"I have turned my back on the creed of my life and on every sound
instinct in me," I continued.

He stopped his walk and looked intently at me.

"I have ancestors whose memory I cherish, and I have torn up their work
as if it were a scrap of paper covered with a child's meaningless
scribble."

Sir James stepped up to the table, his fine face alive with emotion.

"For what?" he asked.

I rose and looked straight into his eyes.

"For a woman," I whispered, very low but very proudly.

Our hands met across the table in a hard grip.

"You have done well, sir!" he said. "I asked you to give me advice. You
have set me an example."

He sat down again, and looked hopefully at the fire and then moodily at
Master Freake.

"There is this unfortunate difference between Mr. Wheatman's case and
mine. I have, and he has not, given my plain word to a father."

"I admit that is a striking difference," said Master Freake. "I am no