bitter resentment against Wentworth. Mr. Longworth searched his
conscience to see if he could be in the least to blame, but he found
nothing in the recollections of his dealings with the young men to
justify him in feeling at all responsible for the disaster that had
overtaken them. He read his favourite evening paper with less than his
usual interest, for every now and then the episode in his office would
occur to him. Finally he said sharply:

'Edith!'

'Yes, father,' answered his daughter.

'You remember a person named Wentworth, whom you had here the evening
William went away?'

'Yes, father.'

'Very well. Never invite him to this house again.'

'What has he been doing?' asked the young woman in rather a tremulous
voice.

'I desire you also never to ask anyone connected with him--that man
Kenyon, for instance,' continued her father, ignoring her question.

'I thought,' she answered, 'that Mr. Kenyon was not in this country at
present.'

'He is not, but he will be back again, I suppose. At any rate, I wish to
have nothing more to do with those people. You understand that?'