Philip Quentin I have always disliked, even mistrusted. His
reputation in New York was that of a man of the town, a rich
roisterer, a 'breaker of hearts,' as your uncle has often called
him. He is a daring notoriety seeker, and this is rare sport for
him." Mrs. Garrison's eyes were blazing, her hands were clenched,
her bearing that of one who is both judge and executioner.

"I think you do him an injustice," said Dorothy, slowly, a feeling
of deep resentment asserting itself. "Philip is not what you call
him. He is a gentleman." Mother and daughter looked into each
other's eyes squarely for a moment, neither flinching, both
justifying themselves for the positions they were to take.

"You defend him?"

"As he would defend me."

"You have another man to defend. Do you think of him?"

"You have yet to say that Ugo is no gentleman. It will then be time
for defense, such as I am offering now."

"We are keeping your friend waiting, Dorothy," said Mrs, Garrison,
with blasting irony. "Give him my compliments and say that we trust
he may come every day. He affords us a subject for pleasant
discussion, and I am sure Prince Ugo will be as charmed to meet him
here as he was in London."

"Don't be sarcastic, mamma. It doesn't help matters and--" began
Dorothy, almost plaintively.