f--out of--"

"Yes; out of what?"

"Out of pure goodness," she said, firmly.

"Fiddle-faddle! People don't do things out of pure goodness. The man who
seems to is either a sentimentalist or a knave. If he's a
sentimentalist, he does it for effect; if he's a knave, because it helps
roguery. There's always some ax to grind."

"I think you'd have to make an exception of Mr. Davenant."

"Davenant? Is that his name? Yes, I believe your papa did tell me
so--the boy Tom Davenant fished out of the slums."

With some indignation Olivia told the story of Davenant's birth and
adoption. "So you see," she went on, "he has goodness in his blood.
There's no reason why that shouldn't be inherited as much as--as
insanity--or a taste for alcohol."

"Stuff, dear! The man or the boy, or whatever he is, calculated on
getting something better than he gave. We must simply pay him off and
get rid of him. Noblesse oblige."

"We may get rid of him, Aunt Vic, but we can never pay him off."

"He'll be paid off, won't he, if we return his loan at an interest of
five--I'm willing to say six--per cent.?"

Olivia came forward, looking distressed. "Oh, I hope you won't, dear
Aunt Vic. I mean about the five or six per cent. Give him back his money
if you will, only give it back in the--in the princely way in which he
let us have it."

"Well, I call that princely--six per cent."

"Oh, please, Aunt Vic! You'd offend him. You'd hurt him. He's just the
sort of big, sensitive creature that's most easily wounded, and--"

"Tiens! You interest me. Stop fidgeting round the room and come and tell
me about him. Sit down," she commanded, pointing to the other corner of
the sofa. "There must be a lot I haven't heard."

If Olivia hesitated, it was chiefly because of her own eagerness to talk
of him, to sing his praises. Since, however, she must sooner or later
learn to do this with self-possession, she fortified herself to begin.
With occasional interruptions from her aunt she told the tale as she
understood it, taking as point of departure the evening when Davenant
came to dine at Tory Hill, on his return from his travels round the
world.

"So there was a time when you didn't like him," was Madame de Melcourt's
first comment.

"There was a time when I didn't understand him."

"But when you did understand him you changed your mind."

"I couldn't help it."

"And did you change anything more than your--mind?"

There was so much insinuation in