After a while she grew calmer, and, rising from her knees, went to the door and unlatched it, so that she might hear when her brother came out of the studio. She could hear the murmur of voices below, her father's grave and displeased; and Gerald's sounding rather sulky, she thought. After a while the studio door was opened, and, straining her ears, she was able to catch what her father said— "Very well, my boy. I hope you will keep your word. You must be more careful for the future, for the idea of your squandering money is most painful to me. Remember how needy we have been in the past! And you have treated your sister most unfairly—most dishonourably! I could hardly believe it when I heard about it. Let me see by your future conduct that you are serving her with greater consideration." "Yes, father," Gerald's voice returned. "May I go now, please?" "Certainly." The studio door closed, and the next minute Gerald ascended the stairs. Angel stepped out on the landing, her tear-stained face brightening, for she had gleaned from the few words she had overheard that her brother and father's interview had come to a satisfactory conclusion. "Gerald," she said softly under her breath as the boy reached her side, "was father very angry? Come in, and tell me what he said." "Not likely!" he retorted, his face, which had been pale before, suddenly crimsoning with passion, his eyes flashing indignation upon her. "You've got me into a row, and that ought to satisfy you!" "But it was not my fault! Oh, Gerald, listen to me!" she exclaimed in great distress. "Oh, tell me, was father very angry?" "Much you care if he was! You mean thing! Just because I hadn't paid you that wretched eighteen pence to go and make this fuss! Sneak! Sneak!" he hissed between his clenched teeth as he turned away and entered his own room. He did not expect her to follow him, but she did, and began to explain that she had not been instrumental in getting him into trouble, as he appeared to think; but he turned upon her fiercely, and would not listen. "Get out of my room this instant!" he commanded. "Go quickly, or I'll make you!" "Indeed, Gerald—" "Go!" he interrupted impatiently. "You nasty hypocrite, you!" "Oh, don't call me such names!" she said pleadingly. "Oh, I am so sorry—so sorry—" She broke off with a sob. Had she been wise she would have left him until he was in a better frame of mind, but she could not bear to think that he had formed a wrong opinion of her, so she began once more to enter into an explanation. Completely losing his temper, Gerald turned upon her, and struck her a swift, stinging blow on the cheek with the flat of his hand, leaving the imprint of his fingers on her soft flesh; then, grasping her by the shoulder, he pushed her roughly out of the room and locked the door against her. CHAPTER XX The Quarrel