as he may own in the
said club shall be appraised and delivered to the treasurer upon receipt
of the value'--or something like that."

Still Neergard looked at him, hunched up in his chair, chin sunk on his
chest.

"Thought it just as well to mention it," said Ruthven blandly, "as
they've seen fit to take advantage of the--ah--opportunity--under legal
advice. You'll hear from the secretary, I fancy--Mottly, you know. . . .
_Is_ there anything more, Neergard?"

Neergard scarcely heard him. He had listened, mechanically, when told in
as many words that he had been read out of the Siowitha Club; he
understood that he stood alone, discarded, disgraced, with a certain
small coterie of wealthy men implacably hostile to him. But it was not
that which occupied him: he was face to face with the new element of
which he had known nothing--the subtle, occult resistance to himself and
his personality, all that he represented, embodied, stood for, hoped
for.

And for the first time he realised that among the ruthless, no
ruthlessness was permitted him; among the reckless, circumspection had
been required of him; no arrogance, no insolence had been permitted
him among the arrogant and insolent; for, when such as he turned
threateningly upon one of those belonging to that elemental matrix
of which he dared suppose himself an integral part, he found that
he was mistaken. Danger to one from such as he endangered their
common caste--such as it was. And, silently, subtly, all through
that portion of the social fabric, he became slowly sensible of
resistance--resistance everywhere, from every quarter.

Now, hunched up there in his chair, he began to understand. If Ruthven
had been a blackguard--it was not for him to punish him--no, not even
threaten to expose him. His own caste would take care of that; his own
sort would manage such affairs. Meanwhile Neergard had presumed to annoy
them, and the society into which he had forced himself and which he had
digestively affected, was now, squid-like, slowly turning itself inside
out to expel him as a foreign substance from which such unimportant
nutrition as he had afforded had been completely extracted.

He looked at Ruthven, scarcely seeing him. Finally he gathered his thick
legs under to support him as he rose, stupidly, looking about for his
hat.

Ruthven rang for a servant; when he came Neergard followed him without a
word, small eyes vacant, the moisture powdering the ridge of his