as she does. But she's always been that way, and she's always been right
about it, too, although I didn't use to think so." This last came with a
lowered voice and a deep, indrawn sigh, and for the moment checked the
flow of his wrath.

Harry hung his head still lower, but he did not attempt to defend
himself.

"Who else were making vulgarians of themselves at Mrs. Cheston's?" St.
George continued in a calmer tone, stretching his shapely legs until the
soles of his shoes touched the fender.

"Mark Gilbert, Tom Murdoch, Langdon Willits, and--"

"Willits, eh?--Well, I should expect it of Willits. He wasn't born a
gentleman--that is, his grandfather wasn't a gentleman--married his
overseer's daughter, if I remember right:--but you come of the best
blood in the State,--egad!--none better! You have something to
maintain--some standard to keep up. A Rutter should never be found
guilty of anything that would degrade his name. You seem to forget
that--you--damn me, Harry!--when I think of it all--and of Kate--my
sweet, lovely Kate,--and how you have made her suffer--for she loves
you--no question of that--I feel like wringing your neck! What the devil
do you mean, Sir?" He was up on his feet now, pacing the room, the dogs
following his every movement with their brown agate eyes, their soft,
silky ears straightening and falling.

So far the young fellow had not moved nor had he offered a word in
defence. He knew his Uncle George--better let him blow it all out, then
the two could come together. At last he said in a contrite tone--his