"Uncle Elbert rather lied to you--that's what he did," said Peter with
the utmost quietness.

There was a considerable silence. Peter pulled frowningly at his cigar;
it had gone out but he was too absorbed to notice it, and mechanically
pulled on. Presently he raised his head and looked at Varney.

"Well? This ends it, I suppose? You'll go back to New York this
afternoon?"

"No," said Varney, "I'm going to stay and carry it through just as I
expected."

Peter tapped the chair-arm with his heavy fingers. "Why?"

"Because--well, I promised to, and on the strength of my promise, Uncle
Elbert has gone to trouble and expense for one thing, and has pinned
high hopes on me, for another. I had my chance to ask questions and make
terms and stipulations--and I didn't do it. That was my fault. I am not
even sure that he meant to deceive me. I have no right to break a
contract because I find that my part in it is going to be harder than I
thought."

"This business about her age changes everything. Carstairs has no legal
rights over a nineteen-year-old daughter."

"Legal rights! My dear Peter, you never supposed I thought I was doing
anything legal, did you? No, no; the moral part of it has been my prop
and stay all along, and that still holds. I promised without conditions,
and I'll go ahead on the same terms."