n that he began to
feel was inevitable; he got even now a tangible pleasure from the
consideration of an announcement of his passion for Ludowika Winscombe,
a sheer insistence upon it in the face of an antagonistic world. But for
the present he must be careful. This, the greatest event that had
befallen him, summed up all that he innately was; it expressed him, a
black Penny, absolutely; Howat felt the distance between himself, his
convictions, and the convictions of the world, immeasurably widening.
His feeling for Ludowika symbolized his isolation from the interwoven
fabric of the plane of society; it gave at last a tangible bulk to his
scorn.

As he had feared, presently she rose and went to her room. Myrtle took
her place on the sofa. Gilbert Penny vanished with a broad witticism at
the well known preference of youth, in certain situations, for its own
council. David Forsythe made a wry face at Howat. Caroline gaily laid
her arm across her mother's shoulder and propelled her from the room.
David stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor; and Howat, hardly less
clumsy, took his departure. He found Caroline awaiting him in the shadow
of his door; she followed him and stood silent while he made a light.
Her face was serious, and her hands clasped tightly. "Howat," she said
in a small voice, "it's--it's, that is, David loves me. Whatever do you
suppose father and Myrtle will say?"

"What do you think David is saying to Myrtle now?" he asked drily. "I am
glad, Caroline; everything worked out straight for you. David is a
damned good Quaker. For some others life isn't so easy." She laid a warm
hand on his shoulder. "I wish you were happy, Howat." A slight
irritation seized him at the facile manner in which she radiated her
satisfaction, and he moved away. "David's going back to-night. I wish he
wouldn't," she said troubled. "That long, dark way. Anything might
happen. But he has simply got to be at his father's office in the
morning. He is going to speak to him first, see what will be given us at
the Furnace."

"It should be quite a family party at breakfast," Howat predicted.

VII

He was entirely right. Ludowika rarely appeared so early; Myrtle's face
seemed wan and pinched, and her father rallied her on her indisposition
after what should have been an entrancing evening. She declared
suddenly, "I hate David Forsythe!" Gilbert Penny was obviously startled.
Caroline half rose, as if she had finished breakfa