n't caught her at a
moment when she couldn't judge reasonably. So it's entirely up to her."

"We'll see about it," Dalrymple said. "I have my side. You turn nasty. I
turn nasty. You Planters want an annulment proceeding, or a public
divorce with this rotter as co-respondent?"

"Dolly! You don't know what you're saying."

"I'll fight for my rights," Dalrymple persisted, sullenly.

"See here," George put in, "I stayed to say one thing. Sylvia had
nothing to do with what you saw. She couldn't help herself. Your
crookedness, Dalrymple, made me forget everything except that----Never
mind. Lambert understands. Maybe I was out of my head. Anyway, I didn't
give her a chance. She had to suffer it. Is that quite clear?"

Lambert smiled incredulously.

"That'll sound well in court, too," Dalrymple threatened.

"Drop that!" Lambert cried. "Think who you are; who Sylvia is."

"My wife," Dalrymple came back. "I'll have her or I'll go to court."

George started for the door.

"Don't fret, Lambert," he advised. "Money will go a long way with him.
If I might, I'd like to know what the two of you settle. I mean, if you
want to keep it away from your father and mother, my money's available.
I haven't much use for it any more----"

He broke off. What had he just meant to say: that since he had held
Sylvia in his arms all that had marked the progress of his ambition had
become without value? He would have to find that out. Now he waited at
the door, interested only in Dalrymple's response to his bald proposal.
Dalrymple thrust his hands in his pockets, commenced to pace the room,
but all he said was:

"Teach you all not to make a fool of Dolly."

"Remember," George said. "What she wants. And undesired scandals can be
paid for in various ways."

He glanced at Lambert. Evidently Sylvia's brother on that ground would
meet him as an ally. So he left the house and walked slowly through the
eastern fringe of the park, wishing to avoid even the few people
scattered along the pavements of the avenue, for the touch of Sylvia's
lips was still warm on his mouth. He felt himself apart. He wanted to
remain apart as long as possible with that absorbing memory.

Her angry responses in the past to his few daring gestures were
submerged in the great, scarcely comprehensible fact that she had not
rebuked him when he had tumbled over every barrier to take her in his
arms; nor had she, when cornered by Dalrymple and Lambert, assumed her
logic