Slosson colored a little. "Well, I've come more in contact with people, for a fact," he said awkwardly. "It's hard to explain--" "No, it isn't!" she countered. "You're in constructive business, Pete. Happiness always comes to the builder, don't you think? Only a positive and constructive person can perceive the real good in things and people--" She checked herself abruptly, conscious that some one had come to a stop almost behind her chair. She saw Slosson glance up and change countenance. Then a genially maudlin voice broke in upon her--a voice whose liquor-tinged accents sent a shiver through her whole body. "Hullo, Slosson! In town and throwing a party, eh? By gad, old man--" Dorothy turned her head. Her inquiring gaze met the eyes of Macgowan. His words died out, and for an instance there was dead silence. Macgowan was sobered by his incredible and ghastly error. For once his glib tongue was daunted; under Dorothy's gaze, a slow, deep flush crept into his cheeks. Sweat started upon his brow. Dorothy regarded him calmly, without apparent recognition. "Why, it's Mr. Macgowan!" exclaimed Mrs. Deming. "Yes," echoed Dorothy, still gazing at him. "Yes, it's Mr. Macgowan, the liar and traitor, the Judas who betrayed his friend. He seems to have been celebrating his treachery, to judge from his voice. I suppose we should diagnose his ailment as spiritual leprosy. Be careful you're not infected, Pete! I'd be sorry to think of you as being in the same class with this man." She calmly turned her back on Macgowan. The effect of her impersonal arraignment was frightful. A mortal pallor in his face, Macgowan managed a slight, stiff bow, turned, and went his way. Under the circumstances, that bow was more than a parting gesture; it was an achievement. Mrs. Deming was staring at her daughter with horrified eyes. "My dear! You simply can't realize what you're saying--" "Nonsense, mother. This man Macgowan has tried his best to ruin and disgrace Reese, betraying all the trust that was placed in him. He can't do it, but he has made trouble. Now, don't worry! I know what I'm saying, and I'm glad I had the chance to say it to his face. After this, he won't be quite so free and easy when he sees his friends dining in public. He made a mistake to-day that he'll remember--drunk or sober!" "See here, Dot!" exclaimed Slosson hurriedly, almost too hurriedly. "Don't call him a friend of mine! I hardly know the man; haven't seen him since your wedding!"' Dorothy, instantly contrite, reached out and quickly patted his hand. "I didn't mean to be catty, Pete; honest! If I had thought you and he were friends, I'd not be sitting here with you, be sure of that! And mother, please stop looking so disconcerted! Macgowan has passed out of our lives, that's all."' Slosson drew a quick breath, gazed at her admiringly.