Her dead father left her to my care, and am I to sell her to you, that her money may redeem our name from the slough into which _you_ have flung it?
Is innocence to be sacrificed that vice may ride abroad again?
Look here," says the professor, his face deadly white, "you have come to the wrong man.

I shall warn Miss Wynter against marriage with _you,_ as long as there is breath left in my body." Sir Hastings has risen too; _his_ face is dark red; the crimson flood has reached his forehead and dyed it almost black.

Now, at this terrible moment, the likeness between the two brothers, so different in spirit, can be seen; the flashing eyes, the scornful lips, the deadly hatred.

It is a shocking likeness, yet not to be denied.
"What do _you_ mean, damn you ?" says Sir Hastings; he sways a little, as if his passion is overpowering him, and clutches feebly at the edge of the table.__ "Exactly what _I_ have said," retorts the professor, fiercely.
"You refuse then to go with me in this matter ?" _"Finally._ Even if I would, I could not.

I--have other views for her." "Indeed! Perhaps those other views include yourself.