Virginia turned to him, a wave of hot resentment flowing clear to her
finger tips. If he had seen her flushed, intent face he would have
backed ground quickly. Unfortunately he was gazing quietly out the
window.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Wholly aware of her own displeasure, wondering at it and anxious to hide
it, she was able to control her voice. Its tone gave no key to her
thoughts. Harold answered her, still unwarned:

"I mean--keep him at his distance. He's a different sort from you and
I. I don't mean he isn't all right, as far as his kind goes--but he
hasn't had the advantages." Harold spoke tolerantly, patronizingly.
"Those fellows are apt to take advantage of any familiarity. They're
all right if you keep 'em in their place--but they're mighty likely to
break lose from it any minute. I'm sorry you ever let him call you
Virginia."

Virginia's eyes blazed. If it is one of the precepts of good breeding
ever to let anger control the spirit, Virginia had made a breach indeed.
Her little hands clenched, and she had a fierce and insane desire to
beat those babbling lips with her fists. Then she struggled to regain
her composure.

"Listen, Harold," she began at last coldly. "I don't care to hear any
more such talk as that."

The man looked up then. He saw the righteous indignation in her face.
He felt the rising tide of his own anger. "I'm only trying to warn
you----" he began weakly.

"And I don't need or want any such warnings. I don't care what you
think of Bill--for that matter, you can be sure that Bill doesn't care
at all either--but I'll ask you to keep your thoughts to yourself.
Oh, if you only knew--how good, how strong, how true he has been--how
tender he has been to me----"

Harold was torn with jealous rage, and in his fury and malice he made
the worst mistake of all. "I hope he hasn't been _too_ tender----" he
suggested viciously.

But at once he was on his feet, begging her pardon. He knew that he had
made a dangerous and regrettable mistake. She forgave him--forgiveness
was as much a part of her as her graciousness or her loyalty--but she
didn't immediately forget. And Harold sat long hours with smoldering
eyes and clenched hands, a climbing fire and fury in his brain, while
the malice and resentment and jealousy that he held toward Bill grew to
hatred, bitter and black.

XVII

The addition of Harold to their number did not influence, for long,
Virginia's o