beyond his control. He spoke gravely, with a deliberate
conviction.

"I owe something to her, too, Dad."

But Gilder would not let the statement go unchallenged. His heavy voice
rang out rebukingly, overtoned with protest.

"What can you owe her?" he demanded indignantly. "She tricked you into
the marriage. Why, legally, it's not even that. There's been nothing
more than a wedding ceremony. The courts hold that that is only a part
of the marriage actually. The fact that she doesn't receive you makes it
simpler, too. It can be arranged. We must get you out of the scrape."

He turned and went to the desk, as if to sit, but he was halted by his
son's answer, given very gently, yet with a note of finality that to the
father's ear rang like the crack of doom.

"I'm not sure that I want to get out of it, father."

That was all, but those plain words summed the situation, made the issue
a matter not of advice, but of the heart.

Gilder persisted, however, in trying to evade the integral fact of his
son's feeling. Still he tried to fix the issue on the known unsavory
reputation of the woman.

"You want to stay married to this jail-bird!" he stormed.

A gust of fury swept the boy. He loved the woman, in spite of all; he
respected her, even reverenced her. To hear her thus named moved him to
a rage almost beyond his control. But he mastered himself. He remembered
that the man who spoke loved him; he remembered, too, that the word of
opprobrium was no more than the truth, however offensive it might be
to his sensitiveness. He waited a moment until he could hold his voice
even. Then his words were the sternest protest that could have been
uttered, though they came from no exercise of thought, only out of the
deeps of his heart.

"I'm very fond of her."

That was all. But the simple sincerity of the saying griped the father's
mood, as no argument could have done. There was a little silence. After
all, what could meet such loving loyalty?

When at last he spoke, Gilder's voice was subdued, a little husky.

"Now, that you know?" he questioned.

There was no faltering in the answer.

"Now, that I know," Dick said distinctly. Then abruptly, the young man
spoke with the energy of perfect faith in the woman. "Don't you see,
father? Why, she is justified in a way, in her own mind anyhow, I mean.
She was innocent when she was sent to prison. She feels that the world
owes her----"

But the older man would not permit the