not take a hand in this. At least, we have agreed all along that--in
this case you know--you and my sister--we have planned definitely that
you should live in your old place. We're going to take that over. The
redemption time has plenty of margin, and we can't allow those people to
come in here and steal one of the old Virginia places in that way. We
are going to arrange to hold that for you and my sister, and we thought
that perhaps in time something could be worked out of the rest of the
property in the same way. That is, unless Colonel Meriwether, your
father's partner, shall offer some better solution. I suppose you talked
it over with him?"

"I did not talk with him about it at all," said I, dully. For many
reasons I did not care to repeat all of my story to him. I had told it
often enough already. "None the less, it seems very generous of you and
your father to take this interest in me. It would be very churlish of me
if I did not appreciate it. But I trust nothing has been done as yet--"

"You trust not? Why, Cowles, you speak as though you did not want us to
do it."

"I do not," said I.

"Oh, then--"

"You know our family well enough."

"That's true. But you won't be offended if I suggest to you that there
are two sides to this, and two prides. All the country knows of your
engagement, and now that you have returned, it will be expected that my
sister will set the day before long. Of course, we shouldn't want my
sister to begin too far down--oh, damn it, Cowles, you know what I
mean."

"I presume so," said I to him, slowly. "But suppose that your sister
should offer to her friends the explanation that the change in my
fortunes no longer leaves desirable this alliance with my family?"

"Do you suggest that?"

"I have not done so."

"Has she suggested it?"

"We have not talked of it, yet it might be hard for your sister to share
a lot so humble and so uncertain."

"That I presume will be for her to decide," he said slowly. "I admit it
is a hard question all around. But, of course, in a matter of this kind,
the man has to carry the heavy end of the log if there is one. If that
falls to you, we know you will not complain."

"No," said I, "I hope not."

His forehead still remained furrowed with the old Sheraton wrinkles. He
seemed uneasy. "By Jove," he broke out at length, flushing as he turned
to me, "it is hard for a fellow to tell sometimes what's right, isn't
it? Jack, you remember Jennie Wil