He sat there when Harlan swung close to the steps.
"Mr. Kavanagh," said the young man, sternly, "I am Harlan Thornton. Do
you know any ill of me?"
"I know that you're old Land-Grabber Thornton's grandson! I also know
that you have shaken him in politics until his old teeth rattled. And
I'm much obliged to you!"
"I'm not here to talk about politics or my grandfather. I'm here on my
own account. You know where your own daughter is. I've come to ask you
honorably and fairly where she is. Will you tell me?"
Mr. Kavanagh was silent a long time. He seemed to be struggling with
some kind of surprise.
"No, I'll not tell you," he declared at last.
"Then I want to tell _you_ something, sir. I love your daughter. I love
her so honestly--so devotedly that I propose to search for her through
this world. And when I find her--" he hesitated.
"If you find her?"
"I stopped because I do not want to threaten or boast. But I will say,
Mr. Kavanagh, that when I find her I'll beg of her to be my wife, and if
she consents I promise you that no two sour old men are going to spoil
our happiness! I want a fair understanding with you.
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