“And as for behaving as you did last night--he’s not worth it. One might forgive him for being idle and all that--but men who get tipsy in the streets and fight horse-car conductors and pugilists are not exactly the kind of people one wants to meet in society--to dance with, for instance. Just listen to this--” “Mother!” “No--I want you to hear it. You can judge for yourself. ‘Mr. John R----, a well-known young gentleman about town and a near relation of--’” “Mother--please don’t!” cried Katharine, bending over the table as though she could not hold up her head. “‘--one of our financial magnates,’” continued Mrs. Lauderdale, inexorably, “and the hero of more than one midnight adventure, has at last met his match in the person of Tam Shelton, the famous light-weight pugilist. An entirety unadvertised and scantily attended encounter took place between these two gentlemen last night between eleven and twelve o’clock, in consequence of a dispute which had arisen in a horse-car. It appears that the representative of the four hundred had mistaken the public conveyance for his own comfortable quarters, and suddenly feeling very tired had naturally proceeded to go to bed--’” With a very quick motion Katharine turned, took the paper from her mother’s hands and tore the doubled fourfold sheet through twice, almost without any apparent effort, before Mrs. Lauderdale could interfere. She said nothing as she tossed the torn bits under the table, but her eyes had suddenly got life in them again. “Katharine!” exclaimed Mrs. Lauderdale, in great annoyance. “How can you be so rude?” “And how can you be so unkind, mother?” asked Katharine, facing her. “Don’t you know what I’m suffering?” “It’s better to know everything, and have it over,” answered Mrs. Lauderdale, with astonishing indifference. “It only seemed to me that as every one would be discussing this abominable affair, you should know beforehand just what the facts were. I don’t in the least wish to hurt your feelings--but now that it’s all over with Jack, you may as well know.” “What may I as well know? That you hate him? That you have suddenly changed your mind--” “My dear, I’ll merely ask you whether a man who does such things is respectable. Yes, or no?” “That’s not the question,” answered Katharine, with rising anger. “Something strange has happened to you. Until last Tuesday you never said anything against him. Then you changed, all in a moment--just as you would take off one pair of gloves and put on another. You used to understand me--and now--oh, mother!” Her voice shook, and she turned away again. The little momentary flame of her anger was swept out of existence by the returning tide of pain.