I could have gone on without any apology from Mr.Dryfoos; he transcended his authority, but that's a minor matter.

I could have excused it to his ignorance of life among gentlemen; but I can't consent to Lindau's dismissal--it comes to that, whether you do it or I do it, and whether it's a positive or a negative thing--because he holds this opinion or that." "But don't you see," said Fulkerson, "that it's just Lindau's opinions the old man can't stand?
He hasn't got anything against him personally.
I don't suppose there's anybody that appreciates Lindau in some ways more than the old man does." "I understand.

He wants to punish him for his opinions.

Well, I can't consent to that, directly or indirectly.

We don't print his opinions, and he has a perfect right to hold them, whether Mr.Dryfoos agrees with them or not." Mrs.March had judged it decorous for her to say nothing, but she now went and sat down in the chair next her husband.
"Ah, dog on it!" cried Fulkerson, rumpling his hair with both his hands.
"What am I to do?
The old man says he's got to go." "And I don't consent to his going," said March.
"And you won't stay if he goes." Fulkerson rose.