Down deep in her nature, Dorothy hid those stubborn traits that distinguished her religious ancestor of the gate-post and the water-pan.
"For your hand," repeated Mrs.Hanway-Harley uneasily.
Dorothy making no return, Mrs.Hanway-Harley, after waiting a moment, gave herself to a recount of those glowing advantages promised by such a marriage.

Was a nobleman, wealthy, young, handsome, on terms of comradeship with his Czar, to be refused?
Half the women in Washington were wild for such an offer.

It would place the Harleys on a footing by themselves.
"But I don't love him!" urged Dorothy, as though that had to do with the question.
At this foolishly unfortunate objection, Mrs.Hanway-Harley was rendered speechless.

Then, as notice of Dorothy's white, cold obstinacy began to dawn upon her, she went suddenly into lamentations.

To think her child, her only child, should deal her such a blow! Mrs.Hanway-Harley called herself the most ill-treated of parents.