"But never mind that," he went on. "What if I am a bad lot? I don't know what a bad lot is exactly, but if you mean that I've lived with women and been drunk, and lost jobs because I didn't do the work, and been generally on the loose, it's true, of course. But I meant to live decently when I came home. Yes, I did. You can sneer as much as you like. Why didn't you help me? You're my sister, aren't you? And now I don't care what I do. You've all given me up. Well, give me up, and I'll just go to bits as fast as I can go! If you don't want me there are others who do, or at any rate the bit of money I've got. You've kept me from the only decent girl I've ever known, the one I could have been straight with--" "Straight with!" Amy broke in. "How were you going to be straight if you're married already?" He would have answered her but a sound behind him made him turn. He wheeled round and saw his father standing almost up against him. He had only time for a horrified vision of the ghostlike figure, the staring eyes, the open mouth, the white cheeks. The old man caught his coat. "Martin, what was that? What did you say? ... No, no ... I can't bear that now. I can't, I can't." He turned and made as though he would run up the stairs, catching about him like a child the shabby old dressing-gown that he was wearing. At the first step he stumbled, clutching the bannister to save himself. Martin rushed to him, putting his arms round him, holding him close to him. "It's all right, father ... It's not true what you heard ... It's all right." His father turned, putting his arms round his neck. Martin half helped, half carried him up to his bedroom. He laid him on his bed and then, holding his hand, sat by his side all through the long dim afternoon. About, five Warlock suddenly revived, sat up, arid with the assistance of Martin dressed properly, had some tea, and went down to his study. He sat down in his chair, then suddenly looking up at his son he said: "Did you and Amy have a quarrel this afternoon?" "No, father," said Martin. "That's right. I thought--I thought ... I don't know ... My head's confused. You've been a good boy, Martin, haven't you? There's no need for me to worry, is there?" "None, father," Martin said. After a while Martin said: "Father, don't go to Chapel to-night." Warlock smiled. "I must go. That's all right ... Nothing to worry about." For some while he sat there, Martin's hand in his; Martin did not know whether he were asleep or not. At about ten he ate and drank. At eleven he started with Amy and Thurston for the Chapel. CHAPTER XI THE CHARIOT OF FIRE When Jane, scolded by Aunt Anne for an untidy appearance, gave notice and at once departed, Maggie felt as though the ground was giving way under her feet. A week until the New Year, and no opportunity of hearing from Martin during that time. Then she laughed at herself: