Sir George looked uneasily at his daughter. Her austere sternness disturbed him. He said that Copley was coming over later in the evening to hear what May had to say on the matter. "Very well," she answered, "I am rather glad of that. I shall be able to settle this thing for ever." She turned and swept from the room. She was glad she had kept the tears out of her eyes. She was glad Sir George little knew how terribly he had wounded her. For the rest of the day May went about the house as though nothing had happened. She had a smile and a pleasant word for her visitor, so that even Sir George took heart of grace and deluded himself with the idea that his firmness had not been misplaced. It was only when Copley came that he found out how mistaken he was. Copley had no difficulty in getting May to himself, for Alice Carden was deeply engrossed in a book, and Sir George was sitting over his cigar in the library. At the very first hint of the reason for his visit May turned to him. "I think I know what you are going to say," she observed. "I shall be glad to have this matter finally settled. Oh, no, I don't mean what you do at all. Will you be good enough to come to the library with me, because I should like my father to hear what passes between us? I won't detain you more than a few minutes, and it is the best way." The self-satisfied smile died from Copley's lips. He had not expected a reception like this, and it surprised him, too, to see this uncompromising dignity in May's manner. Perhaps she had never been more alluring or more attractive in his eyes than she was at that moment, and he knew, too, without any words from her, that he was on the eve of defeat. "Very well," he said, "though I don't see why we shouldn't settle it between us. It is our affair." May made no reply. She walked into the library, followed by Copley. Sir George turned eagerly as they entered. "Ah, well?" he said with an uneasy attempt at playfulness. "I see you have come to an understanding."