her hair, her young purity of
outline emphasised by the simplicity of her dress, so stirred his
senses, that, in defiance of pride, the whole heart of him went out to
her, claiming her for his own. But it is at just such crises that
habit reveals itself as the hand of steel in a silken glove; and before
she could open her lips, Jock Lenox had stretched out a ghostly arm
from his grave in Aberdeen, and shut to the door of his nephew's heart.

Quita glanced hurriedly from the discarded letter to her husband's face.

"My dear, . . . what has gone wrong? You look terrible. Have you had
bad news?"

The irony of the question brought a smile to his lips.

"Yes. I have had bad news. Read it for yourself." And he pushed the
letter towards her.

"Why? Who is it from?"

"A friend of mine, in England, who seems to know a good deal more about
you than I do."

"What on earth do you mean?" she asked sharply.

"You know well enough what I mean. Read that letter if your memory
needs refreshing."

Her first instinct was indignant refusal. Then curiosity conquered.
Besides, she wanted above all things to gain time: and while she read,
her husband watched her keenly, with God knows what of forlorn hope at
his heart.

But a twisted truth is more formidable than a lie; and intuition warned
Quita that Lenox was in no mood to appreciate the fine shades of
distinction between the literal facts and Max Richardson's free
translation of the same. His frankly masculine comments fired her
cheeks; and at the sight Lenox could restrain himself no longer.

"By Heaven! You care for that fellow still!" he broke out hotly. "And
you had the effrontery to take those solemn words on your lips this
morning, with the love of . . . another man in your heart!"

Quita Lenox, whatever her failings, lacked neither spirit nor courage.
She threw back her head, and faced his anger bravely.

"How dare you say such things to me? I . . . don't care for him. I--I
hate him!"

"Proof conclusive. Indifference kills hatred. No doubt you wanted to
convince yourself, and him, that you were indifferent; and to that end
you must needs crucify the first man who comes handy. An admirable
sample of feminine justice!"

"Eldred, . . . you have no right to speak like that. I won't hear you."

"I have every right; and you shall hear me. It was one thing to know
that you could not give me all I wanted at the start. One hoped to set
that right, in