he virtues."

"I assure you" he began--

"You needn't. If there is one thing I am convinced of, it's your
assurance."

"Really--Ethel--"

"Were you 'carried away' again?" she sneered.

"Do you think for one moment--" he stopped.

"Yes, I do," answered Ethel positively.

Brent hunted through his mind for an explanation. Finally he said
helplessly:

"I--I--don't know what to say."

"Then you'd better say nothing."

"Surely you're not jealous--of a--a--child?"

"No. I don't think it's JEALOUSY," said Ethel slowly.

"Then what is it?" he asked eagerly.

She looked scornfully at him:

"Disgust!" She shrugged her shoulders contemptuously as he tried in
vain to find something to say. Then she went on:

"Now I understand why the SCULLERY is sometimes the rival of the
DRAWING-ROOM. The love of change!"

He turned away from her. He was hurt. Cut to the quick.

"This is not worthy of you!" was all he said.

"That is what rankles," replied Ethel. "It isn't. YOU'RE not."

"Ethel!" he cried desperately.

"If that ever happened again I should have to AMPUTATE YOU."

Brent walked over to the window-seat where he had left his automobile
coat and cap and picked them up.

Ethel watched him quietly.

"Chris! Come here!"

He turned to her.

"There! It's over! I suppose I HAVE been a little hard on you. All
forgotten?" She held out her hand. He bent over it.

"My nerves have been rather severely tried this past month," Ethel went
on. "Put a mongrel into a kennel of thoroughbreds, and they will either
destroy the intruder or be in a continual condition of unsettled,
irritated intolerance. That is exactly MY condition. I'm unsettled,
irritable and intolerant."

Brent sat beside her and said softly:

"Then I've come in time?"

Ethel smiled as she looked right through him:

"So did I, didn't I?" and she indicated the window through which Peg
ran after assaulting Brent.

The young man sprang up reproachfully:

"Don't! Please don't!" he pleaded.

"Very well," replied Ethel complacently, "I won't."

Brent was standing, head down, his manner was crestfallen. He looked
the realisation of misery and self-pity.

"I'm sorry, Chris," remarked Ethel finally, after some moments had
passed. "A month ago it wouldn't have mattered so much. Just now--it
does. I'd rather looked forward to seeing you. It's been horrible here."

"A month of misery for me, too," replied Brent, passionately.

"I'm going away--out o