e called, and thought,
in love with this fresh young beauty, so swiftly and alluringly
developing. It exasperated him with the intensity of selfishness's
avarice that he could not have both Theresa Howland's fortune and
Adelaide. It seemed to him that he had a right to both. Not in the coldly
selfish only is the fact of desire in itself the basis of right. By the
time he reached home, he was angry through and through, and bent upon
finding some one to be angry with. He threw the reins to a groom and,
savagely sullen of face, went slowly up the terrace-like steps.

His mother, on the watch for his return, came to meet him. "How is Mr.
Ranger this morning?" she asked.

"Just the same," he answered curtly.

"And--Del?"

No answer.

They went into the library; he lit a cigarette and seated himself at the
writing table. She watched him anxiously but had far too keen insight to
speak and give him the excuse to explode. Not until she turned to leave
the room did he break his surly silence to say: "I might as well tell
you. I'm engaged to Theresa Howland."

"O Ross, I'm _so_ glad!" she exclaimed, lighting up with pride and
pleasure. Then, warned by his expression, she restrained herself. "I have
felt certain for a long time that you would not throw yourself away on
Adelaide. She is a nice girl--pretty, sweet, and all that. But women
differ from each other only in unimportant details. A man ought to see to
it that by marrying he strengthens his influence and position in the
world and provides for the standing of his children. And I think Theresa
has far more steadiness; and, besides, she has been about the world--she
was presented at court last spring a year ago, wasn't she? She is _such_
a lady. It will be so satisfactory to have her as the head of your
establishment--probably Mr. Howland will give her Windrift. And her
cousin--that Mr. Fanning she married--is connected with all the best
families in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia. They are at the top of
our aristocracy."

This recital was not to inform, but to inspire--to remind him what a wise
and brilliant move he had made in the game of life. And it had precisely
the effect she intended. Had she not herself created and fostered in him
the nature that would welcome such stuff as a bat welcomes night?

"I'm going back to Windrift to-morrow," he said, still sullen, but with
the note of the quarrel-seeker gone from his voice.

"When do you wish me to write to her?