Miss Catheron smiled once more, a smile more stinging than words.

"No doubt. You have many things yet to learn, I am quite sure. Victor,
tell your wife that, however dulcet her voice may be, it would sound
sweeter if not raised so _very_ high. Of course, it is to be
expected--I make every allowance, poor child, for the failings of
her--class. The dressing-bell is ringing, dinner in an hour, until
then--_au revoir_."

Still with that most insolent smile she bows low once more, and in her
gold silk, her Spanish laces, her diamonds and splendor, Miss Catheron
swept out of the room.

And this was Ethel's welcome home.

* * * * *

Just two hours later, a young man came walking briskly up the long
avenue leading to the great portico entrance of Catheron Royals. The
night was dark, except for the chill white stars--here under the
arching oaks and elms not even the starlight shone. But neither for
the darkness nor loneliness cared this young man. With his hands in
his pockets he went along at a swinging pace, whistling cheerily. He
was very tall; he walked with a swagger. You could make out no more in
the darkness.

The great house loomed up before him, huge, black, grand, a row of
lights all along the first floor. The young man stopped his whistling,
and looked up with a smile not pleasant to see.