if she had had one, from being driven into the active warfare of the
support of a family.

In the pause that followed there was a ring at the bell, an argument with
the servant, something that sounded like a scuffle, and then a young man
strolled into the room. He was tall and beautifully dressed,--at least
that was the first impression,--though, as a matter of fact, the clothes
were of the cheapest ready-made variety. But nothing could look cheap or
ill made on those splendid muscles. He wore a silk shirt, a flower in his
buttonhole, a gray tie in which was a pearl as big as a pea, long
patent-leather shoes with elaborate buff-colored tops; he carried a thin
stick and a pair of new gloves in one hand, but the most conspicuous
object in his dress was a brand-new, gray felt hat, with a rather wide
brim, which he wore at an angle greater than Mr. Lanley attempted even at
his jauntiest. His face was long and rather dark, and his eyes were a
bright gray blue, under dark brows. He was scowling.

He strode into the middle of the room, and stood there, with his feet
wide apart and his elbows slightly swaying. His hat was still on.

"Your servant said you couldn't see me," he said, with his back teeth set
together, a method of enunciation that seemed to be habitual.

"Didn't want to would be truer, Marty," answered Mrs. Wayne, with a
utmost good temper. "Still, as long as you're here, what do you want?"

Marty Burke didn't answer at once. He stood looking at Mrs. Wayne under
his lowering brows; he had stopped swinging his elbows, and was now very
slightly twitching his cane, as an evilly disposed cat will twitch the
end of its tail.