old
fogy. But you're a woman of the world--you will understand.--I made a
fool of myself in that affair, of course. Still, who would have supposed
the woman wouldn't play the game? She's an old hand, an ex-chorus girl,
and all that--Fay Lanham--any one can tell you about her. I don't know
what got into her, except that I'm making a good deal of money nowadays,
and I suppose she's ready to settle down. It was all quite understood, I
assure you--"

Mrs. Kildare suddenly rose, and he saw for the first time how tall she
was. "I am not and have never been a woman of the world, but I know men,
if that is what you mean. And I know"--her voice cut like a whip--"that
when these things occur among men of honor, at least the names of their
victims are not mentioned."

He stared at her in genuine surprise. Chivalry in connection with Fay
Lanham!--the combination was fantastic. "Oh, but--professionals!" he
murmured. "I assure you she was no 'victim'--not as much a victim,
perhaps, as myself."

"That does not interest me. What I wish to know is whether you are free
to marry or not."

"Frankly, I don't know, Mrs. Kildare. The lawyers are to settle that."

"And not knowing, you have dared to court my daughter Jacqueline?"

The repetition of the old-fashioned phrase jarred his over-strung
nerves. "My dear lady, if you mean by 'courting,' Have I proposed
marriage to your daughter? I have not. If you mean, Have I made love to
her? Yes. Naturally. Why not? I assure you, she has met me more than
half way."

The instant the words were out, he would have given much to recall them.
Why could he not have been simple and natural, told her that he loved
Jacqueline, and that he was most heartily ashamed of himself?

Kate reached for the bell-rope and jerked it. When Lige came
running--the service at Storm was not elegant, but it was prompt--she
said, "Pack Mr. Channing's bag, and bring it down at once."

Then she spoke to Channing without looking at him. "My little girl is
only seventeen. You are the nephew of my oldest and most trusted friend.
It has never occurred to me to warn my daughters against gentlemen. I
had forgotten it was necessary. I blame myself very deeply.--Now you
will give me your word to make no effort to communicate with Jacqueline
again in any way."

He protested. "Surely you will let me see her once, Mrs. Kildare! To
explain?--to--to say good-by?"

"Certainly, in my presence. Your word of honor, please."

He