
    »One thing I must tell you. There was no truth in your suspicion that Mr
Milvain wrote that review in The Current. He assured me himself that he was not
the writer, that he had nothing to do with it.«
    Yule looked askance at her, and his face displayed solicitude, which soon
passed, however, into a smile of sarcasm.
    »The gentleman's word no doubt has weight with you.«
    »Father, what do you mean?« broke from Marian, whose eyes of a sudden
flashed stormily. »Would Mr Milvain tell me a lie?«
    »I shouldn't like to say that it is impossible,« replied her father in the
same tone as before.
    »But - what right have you to insult him so grossly?«
    »I have every right, my dear child, to express an opinion about him or any
other man, provided I do it honestly. I beg you not to strike attitudes and
address me in the language of the stage. You insist on my speaking plainly, and
I have spoken plainly. I warned you that we were not likely to agree on this
topic.«
    »Literary quarrels have made you incapable of judging honestly in things
such as this. I wish I could have done for ever with the hateful profession that
so poisons men's minds!«
    »Believe me, my girl,« said her father, incisively, »the simpler thing would
be to hold aloof from such people as use the profession in a spirit of unalloyed
selfishness, who seek only material advancement, and who, whatever connection
they form, have nothing but self-interest in view.«
    And he glared at her with much meaning. Marian - both had remained standing
all through the dialogue - cast down her eyes and became lost in brooding.
    »I speak with profound conviction,« pursued her father, »and, however little
you credit me with such a motive, out of desire to guard you against the dangers
to which your inexperience is exposed. It is perhaps as well that you have
afforded me this -«
    There sounded at the house-door that duplicated double-knock which generally
announces the bearer of a telegram. Yule interrupted himself, and stood in an
attitude of waiting. The servant was heard to go along the passage, to open the
door, and then return towards the study. Yes, it was a telegram. Such despatches
rarely came to this house; Yule tore the envelope, read its contents, and stood
with gaze fixed upon the slip of paper until the servant inquired
