it--better than she expected."

His brother sat down again before he answered in a constrained voice,
"Don't you think you are rather hard on her, Eustace?"

"Hard on her? No, not a bit of it. Of all the worthless women that
I know, I think Madeline Croston is the most worthless. Look how she
treated you."

"Eustace," broke in his brother almost sharply, "if you don't mind, I
wish you would not talk of her like that to me. I can't--in short, I
don't like it."

Sir Eustace's eyeglass dropped out of Sir Eustace's eye--he had
opened it so wide to stare at his brother. "Why, my dear fellow," he
ejaculated, "you don't mean to tell me you still care for that woman?"

His brother twisted his great form about uncomfortably in the low chair
as he answered, "I don't know, I'm sure, about caring for her, but I
don't like to hear you say such things about her."

Sir Eustace whistled softly. "I am sorry if I offended you, old fellow,"
he said. "I had no idea that it was still a sore point with you. You
must be a faithful people in South Africa. Here the 'holy feelings of
the heart' are shorter lived. We wear out several generations of them in
twelve years."



III