"What does this mean?" he demanded, hoarsely. "You here with this man!... My God! are you proud of this thing?... Defiled! Aren't you satisfied with _that_? How you can endure to see him--" Cantor was on his feet, amazed. "Here, Waite," he said, "what's this?" Hildegarde stood beside him, white, very slender and boyish, an inferno of suffering in her eyes. "Potter.... Mr. Cantor," she said, in a whisper. Potter did not look at Cantor, was not ready for Cantor yet. He had first to show his scorn for Hildegarde, his revulsion from the conduct she had chosen for herself. "It's hideous," he said, slowly. "There's such a thing as shame.... You can go about with this man--when you ought to want to kill him.... This whelp...." "Potter--what are you saying? What do you know?" "If you please, Miss von Essen," said Cantor, stepping between her and Potter. "Now talk to me," he said, evenly. "What's the matter with you? Are you crazy?" Potter looked into Cantor's eyes an instant before he spoke; then he said, with quiet intensity: "There isn't much I can do about it, Cantor.... There's no way of giving you your deserts, but I'm going to do the best I can.... I'm going to thrash you till you whimper. I'm going to hammer you till you crawl on your knees to Miss von Essen and beg her forgiveness--for a thing that can't be forgiven.... You swine!" He struck suddenly, viciously, and Cantor went down. Before Potter could spring over him something thudded dully on the back of his head, the world seemed upheaving and splitting apart, and he staggered, swayed, and sprawled upon the ground at Hildegarde's feet.... Philip had struck him down with a driver from the caddy bag. Hildegarde uttered a single cry and threw herself above Potter, shielding him from the possibility of another blow. "You sha'n't!" she cried. "You sha'n't hurt him! Leave him be." Cantor struggled to his feet, his face livid, his mouth cut and bleeding. Hildegarde glared at him, drawing herself closer to Potter, who lay without movement. "What's the matter with the fool?" Cantor said, harshly. "I don't understand," she said, "but you sha'n't touch him. He sha'n't be harmed." Cantor glanced at Philip. "I guess he won't bother us for a while," he said. "The wild man!... Is he jealous--is that it?" She did not reply, but tried to raise Potter's head to her lap. "Get water," she said. Cantor bent over to examine Potter's head. "He's all right," he said. "He'll wake up in a minute, and when he does--" "When he does," she said, "we'll get him to his car.... Poor boy! It's been hard--he's had a hard time.... Oh, Potter, it's been hard for me, too!..." "Look here," Cantor said, ungently. "What about this? Had you any idea this lunatic was planning this sort of thing? What does it mean, anyhow?"