“You shut up. Men who don't get on with women always abuse them; you are soured since Miss ----, the actress, jilted you.” “If you ever dare mention that subject, I will never speak to you again. You know I don't break my word.” “Why do you interfere in my affairs? You don't think of me when you go down to browbeat Charlie Stracey; you don't think of what would have been said of me had Frank hit him, and it had all come out in the papers.” Maggie said no more; she saw she had gone too far. Willy sat puffing at his pipe; but when her father spoke of a certain investment that had not turned out as well as he had anticipated, he joined in the conversation, and she hoped her cruelty was forgotten. XII Frank uttered a cry of surprise when he opened the studio door to his friend. It was his favourite complaint that Willy never came to see him. “At last, at last! This is the second time you have been in the place since it was finished, faithless friend!” “My dear fellow, you know it is not my fault. I have been very busy lately trying to get on with my accounts. There's not a room in the Manor House where I can work in; my sisters' things are everywhere, and they must not be interfered with--their ball-dresses, their birds, their work. My sisters think of nothing but pleasure.” “Triss, go back, go to your chair, sir; I'll get the whip.” Showing his fangs, the bull-dog retired; then with a hideous growl sprang upon his chair, and sat eyeing Willy's calves. “I cannot think what pleasure it can give you to keep such a brute. Even if I had my accounts finished, I don't think I should care to come here much. It isn't safe.” “You are quite mistaken. There's not a better-tempered dog alive than Triss; he wouldn't bite any one unless he attacked me. Give me a slap, and you'll see--I won't let him come near you.” “Thank you, I'd rather not. But he sometimes growls even at you, and shows his teeth, too.” “That's only a way of his, and when he does it I kick him. Come here, Triss--come here, sir!” The dog approached slowly; he sat down and gave his paw to his master, but he did not cease to growl. “There! We have had enough of you, go back to your chair. What will you take--a glass of Chartreuse--a cigarette?” “Thanks, both if you will let me. I see you like pretty things,” he said, admiring the tall legs of the table--early English--and the quaint glasses into which Frank poured the liqueur. “You've got the place to look very nice.”