ut I don't know." Claude wriggled to the side of the bed, drawing
as near to his brother as he could without getting out. "I don't know.
I've asked you a question, and you haven't answered it. And, by God!
you've got to answer it. Sooner than let any one else get her, I'll
marry her and starve. Now speak."

Thor got up heavily. He had the feeling with which the ancients
submitted when they stood soberly and affirmed that it was useless to
struggle against Fate. Fate was upon him. He saw it now. He had tried to
elude her, but she had got him where he couldn't move. She asserted
herself again when Claude, hanging half out of bed, his mouth feverish,
his eyes burning, insisted, imperiously, "Say, you--_speak_!"

Thor spoke. He spoke from the middle of the floor, his pipe still in his
hand. He spoke without premeditation, as though but uttering the words
that Destiny had put into his mouth from all eternity.

"It's all right, Claude. Calm down. I'm--I'm going to be married to Lois
Willoughby."

But Claude was not yet convinced. "When?"

"Just as soon as we can fix things up after the tenth of next
month--after I get the money."

"How long has that been settled?" Claude demanded, with lingering
suspicion.

"It's been settled for years, as far as I'm concerned. I can hardly
remember the time when I didn't intend--just what I'm going to do."

Claude let himself drop back again among the pillows.

"So now it's all right, isn't it?" Thor continued, making a move toward
the door. "It'll be Lois and I--and you and Rosie. And the money will go
to Rosie. I insist on that. It'll even things up. Five thousand a year.
Perhaps more. We'll see."

He looked back from the door, but Claude, after his excitement, was
lying white and silent, his eyes closed, his profile upturned. Thor was
swept by compunction. It had always been part of the family tradition to
respect Claude's high-strung nerves. Nothing did him more harm than to
be thwarted or stirred up. With a murmured good-night Thor turned out
the light, opening and closing the door softly.

But in the passage he heard the pad of bare feet behind him. Claude
stood there in his pajamas.

"Say, Thor," he whispered, hoarsely, "you're top-hole--'pon my soul you
are." He caught his brother's hand, pulling it rather than shaking it,
like a boy tugging at a bell-rope. "You're a top-hole brother, Thor," he
repeated, nervously, "and I'm a beast. I know you don't care anything
about