The room had grown dark as they talked, and now Alfaretta brought a lamp, looking curiously at the rector, as she passed him.

"Supper's ready, Mr.Ward," she said.
"Yes," John said.

"Dr.Howe, I hope"-- But the rector plunged again into argument.

Once he stopped, and said, "So, surely, she can return ?" "It is impossible," John answered quietly.
And again, "You will let me send her back ?" And he said, "No." At last, wearied and baffled, Dr.Howe rose.

He leaned heavily forward on the table, his open palm resting on the volume of sermons, which Alfaretta had lifted from the floor, and he looked steadily at John.
"Then, sir," he said slowly, "I am to understand, for my niece, that this monstrous decision of yours is fixed and unchangeable?
We cannot hope that her love, or her youth, or your duty, or the miserable scandal of the affair, will ever move your cruel determination ?" John rose, too.