“Until you did--yes. Oh, Esther,” with a sudden outburst of tenderness, “don’t look like that and don’t speak like that--to me. How could I go? If you knew how hard I had tried to make myself see that I ought to do what you asked! But I couldn’t! I _know_ I shouldn’t go. I came to beg you not to insist on it. And I haven’t seen you for so long, two whole weeks! I have looked forward to to-night-- Oh, dearest, please! Let’s not quarrel again. Let’s--” He came toward her. She stepped back. “Don’t!” she cried. “Don’t! I-- Oh, I can hardly believe all this! It doesn’t seem possible that it is you who have said such things. The last time you were here, when you said what you did about Uncle Foster I--well, after you had gone I tried to find excuses for you. I knew you were disappointed and--well, I was sure you didn’t mean what you said and would tell me so when we met again. And now, instead of that, you say the same things--or worse. So you did mean them, after all.” “Well--well--oh, hang it all! Esther, I said--I said what I believed--yes. And I believe it now.” “Then you believe my uncle is a scamp and a hypocrite and a liar--and I don’t know what beside. You believe that!” “I didn’t call him a liar. But I do believe all this keeping you at home and telling me that I ought to go is just a part of his scheme to separate us. Yes, and I believe you think it is, too--or you would if you weren’t so loyal to him and would let yourself think honestly.... I won’t say that he has lied, exactly, but--” “Why not? You have called Seymour Covell a liar. Not to his face--oh, no! But behind his back--to me.” “Well--I--” “That is enough. I don’t want to hear any more. Not a word.” “But, Esther--” “No. I have learned a great deal to-night. You paid no attention to my wishes. You say yourself that you had no intention of promising what I asked, even when you knew it was as hard for me as it could be for you, and that I asked it just for your sake. And then--as if that wasn’t enough--you let me see that you are going to stay here because you don’t trust me out of your sight.” “I do. I didn’t say--” “Yes, you did. Well, you may do as you please. And I shall do as I please. Good-night.” “Esther--” “Good-night.” He held out his arms. Then, as she made no move nor spoke, the temper, which he had fought so hard to conquer, got the better of him again. “All right,” he said, turning. “All right, then. I said I wasn’t a fool. I was wrong, I guess; I have been one, even if I’m not now. You care a whole lot more for your old scamp of an uncle than you do for me, and you can order me out and let this Covell stay.... I have learned a few things myself this evening.... Good-night!” He strode from the room and, a moment later, the front door of the Townsend mansion closed behind him. This time the parting was absolute, irrevocable, final; they were sure of it, both of them. And they were too angry to care--then. CHAPTER XVI