“I understand why you take his side. You cheapen and degrade yourself and you bring shame upon your brother and me by your disgraceful affair with this ruffian. Don't look shocked! You meet him secretly, I know--how much farther you have gone with him I don't know. It is enough that you--” “Stop! You shall not say such things to me!” “You came in here to have it out with me. Weil, we'll have it out. You think because you're English, and all that, that you are better than I. You show it in your every action; you turn up your nose at me because I am an American. Well, what if I am? Where would you be if it were not for me? And where would _he_ be? You'd starve if it were not for me. You hang to me like a leech--you sponge on me, you gorge yourself--” “That is enough, Evelyn. You have said all that is necessary. I deserve it, too, for meddling in your affairs. It may satisfy you to know that I have always despised you. Having confessed, I can only add that we cannot live another hour under the same roof. You need not order me to go. I shall do so of my own accord--gladly.” Penelope turned to the door. She was as cold as ice. “It is the first time you have ever done anything to please me. You may go in the morning.” “I shall go to-night!” “As you like. It is near morning. Where do you expect to go at this hour of night?” “I am not afraid of the night. Tomorrow I shall send over from the village for my trunks.” She paused near the door and then came back to Cecil's side. “Goodbye, Cecil. I'll write. Good-bye.” He looked up with a hazy smile. “G'night,” he muttered thickly. Without another word or so much as a glance at Lady Bazelhurst, Penelope Drake went swiftly from the room. The big hall clock struck the half-hour after eleven. Some one--a woman--was laughing in the billiard-room below; the click of the balls came to her ears like the snapping of angry teeth. She did not hesitate; it was not in her nature. The room in which she had found so much delight was now loathsome to her. With nervous fingers she threw the small things she most cherished into a bag,--her purse, her jewels, her little treasures. Somehow it seemed to her as if she were hurrying to catch a night train, that was all. With her own strong young arms she dragged the two huge trunks from the closet. Half an hour later they were full and locked. Then she looked about with a dry, mirthless smile. “I wonder where I _am_ to go?” she murmured, half aloud. A momentary feeling of indecision attacked her. The click of the balls had ceased, the clock had struck twelve. It was dark and still, and the wind was crying in the trees.