R

Chapter I

It is not often that you see a man tear his hair, but this is exactly
what Rashleigh Allerton did. He tore it, first, because of being under
the stress of great agitation, and second, because he had it to
tear--a thick, black shock with a tendency to part in the middle, but
brushed carefully to one side. Seated on the extreme edge of one of
Miss Walbrook's strong, slender armchairs, his elbows on his knees, he
dug his fingers into the dark mass with every fresh taunt from his
fiancee.

She was standing over him, high-tempered, imperious. "So it's come to
this," she said, with decision; "you've got to choose between a
stupid, vulgar lot of men, and me."

He gritted his teeth. "Do you expect me to give up all my friends?"

"All your friends! That's another matter. I'm speaking of half a dozen
profligates, of whom you seem determined--I _must_ say it, Rash; you
force me to it--of whom you seem determined to be one."

He jumped to his feet, a slim, good-looking, well-dressed figure in
spite of the tumbled effect imparted by excitement. "But, good
heavens, Barbara, what have I been doing?"

"I don't pretend to follow you there. I only know the condition in
which you came here from the club last night."

He was honestly bewildered. "Came here from the club last night?
Why--why, I wasn't so bad."

Standing away from him, she twirled the engagement solitaire as if
resisting the impulse to snatch it off. "That would be a question of
point of view, wouldn't it? If Aunt Marion hadn't been here----"

"I'd only had----"

"Please, Rash! I don't want to know the details."

"But I want you to know them. I've told you a dozen times that if I
take so much as a cocktail or a glass of sherry I'm all in, when
another fellow can take ten times as much and not----"

"Rash, dear, I haven't known you all my life without being quite aware
that you're excitable. 'Crazy Rash' we used to call you when we were
children, and Crazy Rash you are still. But that's not my point."

"Your point is that that infernal old Aunt Marion of yours doesn't
like me."

"She's not infernal, and she's not old, but it's true that she doesn't
like you. All the more reason, then, that when she gave her consent to
our engagement on condition that you'd give up your disgusting
habits----"

He raced away from her to the other side of the room, turning to face
her like an exasperated animal at bay.

The room was noteworthy, and of