"Probably they don't know how shamelessly that young person conducts herself," said Mrs. Futvoye. "And I think it only right that they should be told." "I shall complain, of course," said Horace. "I shall put it very strongly." "A protest would have more weight coming from a woman," said Mrs. Futvoye; "and, as a shareholder in the company, I shall feel bound----" "No, I wouldn't," said Horace; "in fact, you mustn't. For, now I come to think of it, she didn't come from Harrod's, after all, or Whiteley's either." "Then perhaps you will be good enough to inform us where she _did_ come from?" "I would if I knew," said Horace; "but I don't." "What!" cried the Professor, sharply, "do you mean to say you can't account for the existence of a dancing-girl who--in my daughter's presence--kisses your hand and addresses you by endearing epithets?" "Oriental metaphor!" said Horace. "She was a little overstrung. Of course, if I had had any idea she would make such a scene as that---- Sylvia," he broke off, "_you_ don't doubt me?" "No, Horace," said Sylvia, simply, "I'm sure you must have _some_ explanation--only I do think it would be better if you gave it." "If I _told_ you the truth," said Horace, slowly, "you would none of you believe me!" "Then you admit," put in the Professor, "that hitherto you have _not_ been telling the truth?" "Not as invariably as I could have wished," Horace confessed. "So I suspected. Then, unless you can bring yourself to be perfectly candid, you can hardly wonder at our asking you to consider your engagement as broken off?" "Broken off!" echoed Horace. "Sylvia, you won't give me up! You _know_ I wouldn't do anything unworthy of you!" "I'm certain that you can't have done anything which would make me love you one bit the less if I knew it. So why not be quite open with us?" "Because, darling," said Horace, "I'm in such a fix that it would only make matters worse." "In that case," said the Professor, "and as it is already rather late, perhaps you will allow one of your numerous retinue to call a four-wheeler?" Horace clapped his hands, but no one answered the summons, and he could not find any of the slaves in the antechamber. "I'm afraid all the servants have left," he explained; and it is to be feared he would have added that they were all obliged to return to the contractor by eleven, only he caught the Professor's eye and decided that he had better refrain. "If you will wait here, I'll go out and fetch a cab," he added. "There is no occasion to trouble you," said the Professor; "my wife and daughter have already got their things on, and we will walk until we find a cab. Now, Mr. Ventimore, we will bid you good-night and good-bye. For, after what has happened, you will, I trust, have the good taste to discontinue your visits and make no attempt to see Sylvia again." "Upon my honour," protested Horace, "I have done nothing to warrant you in shutting your doors against me."