"Does it not strike you, Mr. Bingham," she said quietly, "that you are
taking a very great liberty? Does it not strike you that no man who is
not a relation has any right to speak to a woman as you have spoken to
me?--that, in short, you have been guilty of what in most people would
be an impertinence? What right have you to dictate to me as to whom I
should or should not marry? Surely of all things in the world that is my
own affair."
Geoffrey coloured to the eyes. As would have been the case with most
men of his class, he felt her accusation of having taken a liberty, of
having presumed upon an intimacy, more keenly than any which she could
have brought against him.
"Forgive me," he said humbly. "I can only assure you that I had no such
intention. I only spoke--ill-judgedly, I fear--because--because I felt
driven to it."
Beatrice took no notice of his words, but went on in the same cold
voice.
"What right have you to speak of my affairs with Mr. Davies, with an old
boatman, or even with my father? Had I wished you to do so I should have
asked you. By what authority do you constitute yourself an intermediary
for the purpose of bringing about a marriage which you are so good as to
consider would be to my pecuniary interest? Do you not know that such a
matter is one which the woman concerned, the woman whose happiness and
self-respect are at stake, alone can judge of? I have nothing more to
say except this.
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