“No, no, I will not!” he thundered.  “You have wormed yourself into my confidence by means of lies and deceit.  You have tricked me, fooled me to the very limit!  Oh, it is easy to see how you have beguiled my son into the folly of loving you!  And you—­you have the brazen effrontery to ask me to plead for your father?  No!  No!  No!  Let the law take its course, and now Miss Rossmore—­you will please leave my house to-morrow morning!”

Shirley stood listening to what he had to say, her face white, her mouth quivering.  At last the crisis had come.  It was a fight to the finish between this man, the incarnation of corporate greed and herself, representing the fundamental principles of right and justice.  She turned on him in a fury: 

“Yes, I will leave your house to-night!  Do you think I would remain another hour beneath the roof of a man who is as blind to justice, as deaf to mercy, as incapable of human sympathy as you are!”

She raised her voice; and as she stood there denouncing the man of money, her eyes flashing and her head thrown back, she looked like some avenging angel defying one of the powers of Evil.

“Leave the room!” shouted Ryder, beside himself, and pointing to the door.

“Father!” cried Jefferson, starting forward to protect the girl he loved.

“You have tricked him as you have me!” thundered Ryder.

“It is your own vanity that has tricked you!” cried Shirley contemptuously.  “You lay traps for yourself and walk into them.  You compel everyone around you to lie to you, to cajole you, to praise you, to deceive you!  At least, you cannot accuse me of flattering you.  I have never fawned upon you as you compel your family and your friends and your dependents to do.  I have always appealed to your better nature by telling you the truth, and in your heart you know that I am speaking the truth now.”

“Go!” he commanded.

“Yes, let us go, Shirley!” said Jefferson.

“No, Jeff, I came here alone and I’m going alone!”

“You are not.  I shall go with you.  I intend to make you my wife!”

Ryder laughed scornfully.

“No,” cried Shirley.  “Do you think I’d marry a man whose father is as deep a discredit to the human race as your father is?  No, I wouldn’t marry the son of such a merciless tyrant!  He refuses to lift his voice to save my father.  I refuse to marry his son!”

She turned on Ryder with all the fury of a tiger: 

“You think if you lived in the olden days you’d be a Caesar or an Alexander.  But you wouldn’t!  You’d be a Nero—­a Nero!  Sink my self-respect to the extent of marrying into your family!” she exclaimed contemptuously.  “Never!  I am going to Washington without your aid.  I am going to save my father if I have to go on my knees to every United States Senator.  I’ll go to the White House; I’ll tell the President what you are!  Marry your son—­no, thank you!  No, thank you!”