He was shown into the double drawing-room, and it was untenanted--a fact remarkable enough to make him wonder. He had come to know the family habit well, and after dinner, when it was too cool to sit on the veranda, at least four of the five would be found in the living rooms. Was he too early? He looked at his watch. No; it was a full hour a-past the Langford dinner time. In the midst of his wonderings the door opened to admit, not Dorothy or Isabel, but Mrs. Langford. “You must excuse me if I have kept you waiting,” said the lady in the tone which turns the apology into a chilly conventionalism. “I was not expecting any one so early. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Brant?” Brant doubted his ears, and glanced around involuntarily as one who has stumbled into the wrong house. “I--do for me? Why, nothing in particular,” he stammered. “Are--are the young ladies at home?” “Not to you, Mr. Brant; nor will they be if you should ever happen to call again.” Brant laid fast hold of his sanity and fought for calm speech. “But, Mrs. Langford,” he gasped, “I--I don’t understand. What have I done?” “Rather ask what you have not done,” said the lady icily. “But since you put the question, I may answer it. You have come here, not once, but many times, knowing very well that if your history had been known to us or to Mr. Antrim our doors would never have been opened to you. If that is not sufficient, I can be still more explicit, if you wish it.” “By Heaven, madam, I do wish it!” Brant exploded, rushing upon his fate like any fool of them all. But anger was fast supplanting astonishment. “Very well, sir. Would you mind telling me where you have spent the better part of your life since you left college?” “In the mining camps.” He had a sharp premonition of what was coming. “And your occupation was----” “It was not what it should have been, I admit. But is there no room for repentance in your creed, Mrs. Langford?” “Assuredly; but you have not repented. That is proved by your own act in coming here quite as much as by anything that Mr. Harding says of you.” “Harding!” At the mention of the name Brant saw what his enemy had done and went mad accordingly. “Do you mean to say you would listen for a moment to anything that damnable hound could say of me, or of any one?” Mrs. Langford retreated to the door. “Pardon me, Mr. Brant, if I leave you--you are merely making a bad matter worse. A gentleman does not so far forget himself as to swear in the presence of a lady. I think we understand each other, and I will bid you good evening.”