"Don't you young man me," Jones irritably cut in. "In the rotunda out
there, Dunwoodie gave me a foretaste of your swank and I can tell you I
relished it. You won't look at a penny of this money because, if you
did, you would be benefiting by an act committed by your father, who, as
sure as you live, was impelled by the powers invisible to rid the earth
of Paliser and to rid it of him for no other reason than that this money
might serve a world in flames. Refused by you it will only revert to an
old rounder who never did a good deed in his life; whereas, instead, it
could call down blessings on your father's grave. But no, perish the
thought! All that is leather and prunella to a young woman who regards
herself as the arbiter of destiny. By God, you are prodigious!"
"I think you are horrid."
"So are you. You are the heiress to millions and millions. No wonder you
put on airs."
Occasionally, to exceptional beings, a hand issuing from nowhere offers
a cup brimming with madness, filled to the top with follies and dreams.
At that cup Cassy stared. It was unreal. If she tried to touch it, it
would vanish.
"It is impossible!" she cried.