know."

"Right-o!" said Sidney, raising his hat in farewell. "By Jove, I
wouldn't miss this for millions," he continued, making room for Frances
beside him. "Your young friend is really somewhat violent in his style,
eh, what?"

"There are times when violence is the only possible thing," replied
Frances grimly.

"By the way, who is the victim? I mean, what is he exactly?"

"Mr. Stillwell? Oh, he is the son of his father, the biggest merchant in
Blackwater. Oh, lovely! Beautiful return! Jack is simply away above his
form! And something of a merchant and financier on his own account, to
be quite fair. Making money fast and using it wisely. But I'm not going
to talk about him. You see a lot of him about the Rectory, don't you?"

"Well, something," replied Sidney. "I can't quite understand the
situation, I confess. To be quite frank, I don't cotton much to him. A
bit sweetish, eh, what?"

"Yes, at the Rectory doubtless. I would hardly attribute to him a sweet
disposition. Oh, quit talking about him. He had flat feet in the war, I
think it was. Jack's twin brother was killed, you know--and mine--well,
you know how mine is."

A swift vision of a bright-faced, cheery-voiced soldier, feeling his way
around a darkened room in the Amory home, leaped to Sidney's mind and
overwhelmed him with pity and self-reproach.