defiance, and he saw her lip curl. An idler is apt to be like a sullen
child, except that in a grown man the child's sulky spite becomes a dark
malice, all-embracing. For the very reason that Vance knew he was
receiving what he deserved, and that this was the just reward for his
thriftless years of idleness, he began to hate Elizabeth with a cold,
quiet hatred. There is something stimulating about any great passion. Now
Vance felt his nerves soothed and calmed. His self-possession returned
with a rush. He was suddenly able to smile into her face.

"After all," he said, "you're absolutely right. I've been a failure,
Elizabeth--a rank, disheartening failure. You'd be foolish to trust the
result of your life labors in my hands--entirely foolish. I admit that
it's a shrewd blow to see the estate go to--Terry."

He found it oddly difficult to name the boy.

"But why not? Why not Terry? He's a clean youngster, and he may turn out
very well--in spite of his blood. I hope so. The Lord knows you've given
him every chance and the best start in the world. I wish him luck!"

He reached out his hand, and her bloodless fingers closed strongly over
it.

"There's the old Vance talking," she said warmly, a mist across her eyes.
"I almost thought that part of you had died."

He writhed inwardly. "By Jove, Elizabeth, think of that boy, coming out
of nothing, everything poured into his hands--and now within ten days of
his goal! Rather exciting, isn't it? Suppose he should stumble at the
very threshold of his success? Eh?"