affectations for our happiness.
That's what I did. I love your sister, Lambert. Never dreamed how much
until to-night. Not a great deal to say, but it's enormous beyond
definition to think. You have Betty, so perhaps you can understand."

Lambert smiled in a superior fashion.

"I'm a little confused," he said. "She's led me to believe all along
she's disliked you; has kept you away from Oakmont; has made it
difficult from the start. Then I find her, whether willingly or not--at
least not crying out for help--in your arms."

"I had to open her eyes to what she had done," George answered. "I
wasn't exactly accountable, but I honestly believe I took the only
possible means. I don't know whether I succeeded."

"I fancy you succeeded," Lambert muttered.

George stretched out his hand, looked at Lambert appealingly.

"She didn't say so--she----"

Lambert shook his head.

"She wouldn't talk about you at all."

He waited while the servant entered and arranged George's tray.

"Of course you've dined?"

"After a fashion," Lambert answered. "Not hungry. You might give me a
drink."

"I feel apologetic about eating," George said when they were alone
again. "Don't see why I should have an appetite."

Lambert fingered his glass.

"Do you know why she didn't have you drawn and quartered?"

"No. Don't try to create happiness, Lambert, where there mayn't be any."

"I'm creating nothing. I'm asking a question, in an effort to
understand why she won't, as I say, mention your name; why she can't
bear to have it mentioned."

"If you were right, if things could be straightened out," George said,
"you--you could put up with it?"

"Easily," Lambert answered, "and I'll confess I couldn't if it were
Corporal John Smith. I've been fond of you for a long time, George, and
I owe you a great deal, but that doesn't figure. You're worthy even of
Sylvia; but I don't say I'm right. You can't count on Sylvia. And even
if I were, I don't see any way to straighten things out."

George returned to his meal.

"If you had taken the proper attitude," he scolded, "you could have
handled Dalrymple. He's weak, avaricious, cowardly."

"Oh, Dalrymple! I can handle him. It's Sylvia," Lambert said. "In the
long run Dolly agreed to about everything. Of course he wanted money,
and he'll have to have it; but heaven knows there's plenty of money.
Trouble is, the wedding can't be hushed up. That's plain. It will be in
every paper to-morrow. We a