"Of course, I should like to see him. And bring me something on a tray, here in front of the fire." Lambert walked in. "Don't mind my coming this way, George?" "I'm glad I'm no longer 'Morton'," George said, dryly. "Sit down. I'm going to have a bite to eat." He glanced at his watch. "Good Lord! It's after ten o'clock." "Yes," Lambert said, choosing a chair, "there was a lot to talk about." Little of the trouble had left Lambert's face, but George fancied Sylvia's brother looked at him with curiosity, with a form of respect. "I'm glad you've come," George said, "but I don't intend to apologize for what I did this evening. I think we all, no matter what our inheritance, fight without thought of affectations for our happiness. That's what I did. I love your sister, Lambert. Never dreamed how much until to-night. Not a great deal to say, but it's enormous beyond definition to think. You have Betty, so perhaps you can understand." Lambert smiled in a superior fashion. "I'm a little confused," he said. "She's led me to believe all along she's disliked you; has kept you away from Oakmont; has made it difficult from the start. Then I find her, whether willingly or not--at least not crying out for help--in your arms." "I had to open her eyes to what she had done," George answered. "I wasn't exactly accountable, but I honestly believe I took the only possible means. I don't know whether I succeeded." "I fancy you succeeded," Lambert muttered. George stretched out his hand, looked at Lambert appealingly. "She didn't say so--she----" Lambert shook his head. "She wouldn't talk about you at all." He waited while the servant entered and arranged George's tray. "Of course you've dined?" "After a fashion," Lambert answered. "Not hungry. You might give me a drink." "I feel apologetic about eating," George said when they were alone again. "Don't see why I should have an appetite." Lambert fingered his glass. "Do you know why she didn't have you drawn and quartered?" "No. Don't try to create happiness, Lambert, where there mayn't be any." "I'm creating nothing. I'm asking a question, in an effort to understand why she won't, as I say, mention your name; why she can't bear to have it mentioned." "If you were right, if things could be straightened out," George said, "you--you could put up with it?" "Easily," Lambert answered, "and I'll confess I couldn't if it were Corporal John Smith. I've been fond of you for a long time, George, and I owe you a great deal, but that doesn't figure. You're worthy even of Sylvia; but I don't say I'm right. You can't count on Sylvia. And even if I were, I don't see any way to straighten things out." George returned to his meal. "If you had taken the proper attitude," he scolded, "you could have handled Dalrymple. He's weak, avaricious, cowardly."