awakened to the reality of his situation. He had borne the allusions
of her brother, whose old scorn for his dependent childhood had been
embittered by his sister's marriage and was now scarcely concealed. Yet,
while he had never altered his own political faith and social creed
in this antagonistic atmosphere, he had often wondered, with his old
conscientiousness and characteristic self-abnegation, whether his own
political convictions were not merely a revulsion from his domestic
tyranny and alien surroundings.

In the midst of this gloomy retrospect the coupe stopped with a jerk
before his own house. The door was quickly opened by a servant, who
appeared to be awaiting him.

"Some one to see you in the library, sir," said the man, "and"--He
hesitated and looked towards the coupe.

"Well?" said Clarence impatiently.

"He said, sir, as how you were not to send away the carriage."

"Indeed, and who is it?" demanded Clarence sharply.

"Mr. Hooker. He said I was to say Jim Hooker."

The momentary annoyance in Clarence's face changed to a look of
reflective curiosity.

"He said he knew you were at the theatre, and he would wait until you
came home," continued the man, dubiously watching his master's face. "He
don't know you've come in, sir, and--and I can easily get rid of him."