"But you do. I told you once you were different. You shouldn't compare yourself with Mr. Blodgett or any one. What you set out for you always get." He smiled a little. She was right, and he must never lose his sense of will, his confidence of success. She started to speak, then hesitated. She wouldn't meet his glance. "Why," she asked, "did you tell me that night?" "Because," he answered, uncomfortably, "you were too good a friend to impose upon. I had to give you an opportunity to drive me away." "I didn't take it," she said, quickly, "yet you went as thoroughly as if I had." She spread her hands. "You make me feel as if I'd done something awkward to you. It isn't fair." Smiling wistfully, he touched her hand. "Don't talk that way. Don't let us ever quarrel, Betty. You've never meant anything but kindness to me. I'd like to feel there's always a little kindness for me in your heart." Her long lashes lowered slowly over her eyes. "There is. There always will be, George." X For some time after Betty had left him George remained staring at the fire. The chatter and the intermittent banging of the piano made him long for quiet; but it was good discipline to stay downstairs, and Mrs. Sinclair had said Sylvia might show herself later. So he waited, struggling with his old doubt, asking himself if he had actually acquired anything genuine except his money. Later he wandered again from room to room, seeking Sylvia, but she didn't appear, and he couldn't understand her failure. Had it any meaning for him? Why, for that matter, should she strike him before any other knew of the weapon in her hand? From time to time Dalrymple expressed a maudlin concern for her, and George's uncertainty increased. If it should turn out to be Dalrymple, he told himself hotly, he would be capable of killing. The young man quite fulfilled his promise of the early evening. Long after the last of the women had retired he remained in the smoking-room. Rogers abetted him, glad, doubtless, to be sportive in such distinguished company. Wandel loitered, too, and was unusually flushed, refilling his glass rather often. Lambert, Blodgett, and he were at a final game of billiards. "You've been with Dalrymple all evening," George said, significantly, to Wandel. "My dear George," Wandel answered, easily, "I observe the habits of my fellow creatures. Be they good or bad I venture not to interfere." "An easy creed," George said. "You're not your brother's keeper." "Rather not. The man that keeps himself makes the world better." George had a disturbing fancy that Wandel accused him. "You don't mean that at all," he said. "When will you learn to say what you mean?" "Perhaps," Wandel replied, sipping, "when I decide not to enter politics." "Your shot," Blodgett called, and Wandel strolled to the table. Dalrymple didn't play, his accuracy having diminished to the point of laughter. He edged across to George.