he would owe his very means of livelihood to
Lawrence Stephen.

Besides, he liked Stephen, and it complicated things most frightfully to
go on living in the same house with people who disliked him.

If, Michael said, they chose to dissociate themselves altogether from
their eldest son and his career, very well. They could go on ignoring
and tacitly insulting Mr. Stephen. He could understand their taking a
consistently wrong-headed line like that; but so long as they had any
regard, either for him or his career, he didn't see how they could very
well keep it up any longer. He was sorry, of course, that his career had
let them in for Stephen if they didn't like him; but there it was.

And beyond a doubt it was there.

"You might vindicate Bartie gloriously," Michael said, "by turning me
out of the house and disinheriting me. But would it be worth while? I'm
not asking you to condone Stephen's conduct--if you can't condone it;
I'm asking you either to acknowledge _or_ repudiate your son's debts.

"After all, if _he_ can condone your beastly treatment of him--I
wouldn't like him if he was the swine you think him."

And Anthony had appealed to Michael's mother.

To his "Well, Frances, what do you think? Ought we or oughtn't we?" she
had replied: "I think we ought to stand solid behind Michael."

It was Michael's life that counted, for it was going on into a great
future. Bartie would pass and Michael would remain.

Their nervous advances had ended in a complete surrender to Stephen's
charm.

Vera and Stephen seemed to think that the way to show the sincerity and
sweetness of their reconciliation was to turn up as often as possible on
Frances's Day. They arrived always at the same hour, a little late; they
came by the road and the front door, so that when Bartie saw them
coming he could retreat through the garden door and the lane. The
Flemings and the Jervises retreated with him; and presently, when it had
had a good look at the celebrities, the rest of the party followed.

This Saturday Frances's Day dwindled and melted away and closed, after
its manner; only Vera and Stephen lingered. They stayed on talking to
Michael long after everybody else had gone.

Stephen said he had come to say good-bye to Michael's people and to make
a proposal to Michael himself. He was going to Ireland.

Vera interrupted him with passion.

"He isn't. He hasn't any proposal to make. He hasn't come to say
good-bye."

Her restless