‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. McClintock could not browbeat him, storm as he might.
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