THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY
dealing, you would have dismissed me. It is impossible that I should remain in your employ."
"Mr. Macdonald, are you serious in this? Do you know what you are doing? Do you know what you are saying?" Mr. St. Clair rose and faced his manager.
"Only too well," said Ranald, with lips that began to quiver, "and all the more because of what I must say further. Mr. St. Clair, I love your daughter. I have loved her for seven years. It is my one desire in life to gain her for my wife."
Mr. St. Clair gazed at him in utter astonishment.
"And in the same breath," he said at length, "you insult me and ask my permission."
"It is vain to ask your permission, I fear, but it is right that you should know my desire and my purpose.
"Your purpose?"
"My unalterable purpose."
"You take my daughter out of my house in—in spite of my teeth?" Mr. St. Clair could hardly find words.
"She will come with me," said Ranald, a little proudly.
"And may I ask how you know? Have you spoken to my daughter?"
"I have not spoken to her openly." The blood rose in his dark face. "But I believe she loves me."
"Well, Mr. Macdonald, your confidence is only paralleled by your prodigious insolence."
"I hope not," said Ranald, lowering his head from its proud pose. "I have no desire to be insolent."
Once more Mr. St. Clair looked at him in silence.
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