“It was you that wore her clothes to the city wasn’t it? It was you that taunted her for being in a menial position! and wouldn’t hear to her going to those examinations that she set so much store by, wasn’t it?”--responded he. Into the midst of this loud altercation there came a tap on the side door close to which Eugene was sitting. It was so startling for any one to come to that door at that time of night that Eugene jumped and sat up. Both were absolutely still for a quarter of a second. Nannette even turned a little white as she stared toward the door which had four latticed panes of glass and was lightly draped in open fish net. Nannette recovered first. “There she is, I suppose,” she said in a low whisper with lips that scarcely moved, for she was conscious that she must be under the eye of whoever was outside. “For pity’s sake don’t rave now and send her off again. And don’t you give in either. She needs a lesson after acting like this.” She arose and gathered up her hat and wrap which were lying where she had thrown them when she came in from Judge Peterson’s. Her action seemed to bring Eugene to his senses. He got up and went to the door, opening it but a few inches and looking out with an air of affront. But Joyce was not outside, as he had half made up his mind she would be. A man stood there in the darkness, a stranger he seemed to be at first glimpse, tall, well built, of almost haughty bearing--a thing Eugene could never tolerate in any man but himself. For a moment they stood gazing at one another. It was almost as if the man outside were sizing up the man who stood against the light. Then Eugene remarked acridly: “Well, what do you want?” giving the door the least bit of an impatient jerk as if he were about to close it. The visitor must speak quickly. There was perfect courtesy in the voice that replied: “Mr. Massey? Sherwood’s my name. I’d like to have a few words with you.” There was a grave assurance about the young man’s tone that irritated Eugene. Then he reflected that the man might have some news concerning Joyce and it would be as well to hear him through. “Well, if you don’t take too long,” he said curtly, stepping out to the porch and drawing the door to after him. “We were just about to retire. I suppose you’re aware it’s rather late for callers.” The young man lifted his hat with a grave smile that showed a row of irritatingly beautiful teeth, and gave him somehow the appearance of great advantage, but instead of telling his errand he put his hand out and pushed open the door saying pleasantly, and almost with an air of authority: “We’ll just go inside if you don’t mind,” and was in before Eugene could resent his action. This was most extraordinary behaviour and Eugene half ready to eject him for his presumption, was yet somehow compelled to follow him.