foolishness without result. He had not rescued his fair lady,
but deserted her upon a desert island. For him no bouquets
were flung, nor was there to be any clapping of hands. After
a time he rose like one dreaming, and went slowly, for he was
sick and weak, up to the great pillared house of Hannibal St.
John. The senator in that stern voice of his had bade him
come; nothing could be any worse than it was. He would go.
He knocked, and they showed him into the library. It was four
walls of leather books, an oak table neater than a pin, a huge
chair covered with horsehair much worn, and a blazing fire of
birch logs. Before the fire, one hand thrust into his coat,
the other resting somewhat heavily upon the head of a
whalebone cane, stood the senator. Far off Aladdin heard
Margaret's laugh and with it another young laugh. Then he
looked up like a little hunted thing into the senator's
smoldering eyes.

"Sit down in that chair," said the senator, pointing with his
cane to the only chair in the room. His voice had the effect
of a strong muscular compulsion to which men at once yielded.
Aladdin sat into the big chair, his toes swinging just clear
of the ground. Then there was silence. Aladdin broke it.

"Is Margaret all right?" he gulped.

The senator disregarded the question. Having chosen his
words, he said them.

"I do not know," he began, "what my daughter was doing in a
boat with you. I do not object to her enjoying the society at