Helena stepped back, wincing and silent.

"You will be so good as to consider the result of such tomfoolery--to

me."

"And what about me?" she said. "Your 'daughter'--I suppose you mean

Alice--is not the only person in the world!"

But Lloyd Pryor, having dealt his blow, was gracious again. "My dear,

you needn't begin recriminations. Of course, I speak on your account

as much as on my own. It would have been--well, awkward, all round.

You must see that it does not occur again. You will not get on terms

with these people that will encourage them to look me up. You

understand?"

She looked at him, terror-stricken. In all their squabbles and

differences--and there had been many in the last few years--he had

never spoken in this extraordinary tone. It was not anger, it was not

the courteous brutality with which she was more or less familiar; it

was superiority. The color swept into her face; even her throat

reddened. She said stammering, "I don't know why you speak--in--in

this tone--"

"I am not going to speak any more in any tone," he said lightly;

"there's the stage! Good-by, my dear. I trust your boy may recover

rapidly. Tell him I was prepared for his sling and the 'smooth stone

out of the brook'! Sorry I couldn't have seen more of you." As he

spoke he went into the hall; she followed him without a word. He

picked up his hat, and then, turning, tipped her chin back and kissed

her. She made no response.

When he had gone, she went into the parlor and Shut the door.




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