Nevertheless, he did not like the idea of cutting himself utterly adrift from his relatives. Homewood had been home to him, more truly home than his father's house ever proved. Spite of all the anxiety of the later time, his residence under Mortomley's roof had been a happy period. He liked his uncle and his wife, and the little Lenore, and--well there was no use in looking back--the happy days were gone and past, and he must look out for himself. He could not afford to quarrel with Mr. Dean, and Dolly's bitter speech still rankled in his memory, but yet he had not meant to give up Homewood entirely, and Mr. Dean must have blundered in some way to leave such an impression on Mrs. Mortomley's mind. "I will have it out with her at once," he decided, and he threw away his cigar, girt up his loins for the coming struggle, and re-entered the house. He found Dolly in the library writing a letter. When he entered, she raised her head to see who it was, but immediately and without remark resumed her occupation. There was a bright red spot flaming on each cheek, and a dangerous sparkle in her eyes, which assured Rupert the air was not yet clear, and that the storm might come round again at any moment. But he knew the sooner they commenced their quarrel the more speedily it would be over, and so plunged into the matter at once. "Dolly, what have you been doing to Mr. Dean? He has gone off looking as black as a thunder-cloud." "I have been giving him a piece of my mind," she answered without looking up, and her pen flew more rapidly over the paper. "Your explanation is not lady-like, but it is explicit," remarked Rupert, "I am afraid you will soon not have any mind left if you are so generous in disposing of it." "If my mind proves of no more use to me in the future than it has in the past, the sooner I dispose of it all the better," was the reply. "Do you think you are wise in commencing your present campaign by quarrelling with everybody?" he inquired. "Yes, if every one is like Mr. Dean and--and other people." "Meaning me?" "Meaning you, if you choose to take the cap and wear it." "Do you know Mr. Dean says he would not marry you if you had twenty thousand a year?" "It is a matter of the utmost indifference to me what Mr. Dean says or thinks either." "He told me you considered Antonia and myself little, if at all, better than rats." "Did he happen to tell you what I thought of him?" There was no shaming or threatening Dolly into a good temper when a mood like this was on her. So Rupert changed his tactics. "Do put down your pen and let us talk this matter over quietly together." "You had better go away and not ask me to talk at all," she answered; but she ceased writing nevertheless. "Do you want that letter posted?" he inquired. "No, I shall send it by a messenger." "It is not to Mr. Dean, is it?" "To Mr. Dean," she repeated. "What should I write to Mr. Dean for? It is to no one connected with Mr. Dean or you."