“No, Mr Elliot.” Mr Swinton stood with his back to the fire and his legs apart. “I cannot give you permission to marry my daughter.”
I stood, stunned, for I had expected an immediate acceptance. “May I ask why not, sir?”
Mr Swinton faced me openly, as square and honest as the man himself. “Now, I am a plain-speaking man, Mr Elliot, and I mean this kindly. I do not think that you two are suitable for each other. I know you are a qualified doctor, and you are working to increase your practice.” He shook his head. “But you are not right for my daughter.”
I did not reply for a moment as I dredged my mind for something to say. “Evelyn likes me,” I said at last.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Mr Swinton said. “No doubt at all.”
“Pray tell me why you disapprove, sir?” I felt as if I were pleadi
