“I’ll say what I please about Connie!” Mills shouted. “You children--you and Leila--what have I got from you but disappointment and shame? Leila runs away and marries a scoundrel out of the divorce court and now your wife--a woman I tried to save you from--has smirched us all with dishonor. I didn’t want you to marry her; I begged you not to do it. But I yielded in the hope of making you happy. I wanted you and Leila to take the place you’re entitled to in this town. Everything was done for you! Look up there,” he went on hoarsely, pointing to the portraits above the book shelves, “look at those men and women--your forebears--people who laid the foundations of this town, and they look down on you and what do they see? Failure! Disgrace! Nothing but failure! And you stand here and pretend--pretend----” Mills’s arm fell to his side and the sentence died on his lips. Constance stood in the door; there were angry tears in her eyes and her face was white as she advanced a little way into the room and paused before Mills. “I did not know how foul--how base you could be! You needn’t fear him, Shep! Only a coward would have bawled such a thing for the servants to hear--possibly the neighbors. You’ve called upon your ancestors, Mr. Mills, to witness your shame and disgrace at having admitted me into your sacred family circle! Shep, have you ever noticed the resemblance--it’s really quite remarkable--of young Mr. Storrs to your grandfather Mills? It’s most curious--rather impressive, in fact!” She was gazing at the portrait of Franklin Mills III, with a contemptuous smile on her lips. “Connie, _Connie_----” Shep faltered. “Storrs! What do you mean by that?” demanded Mills. His mouth hung open; with his head thrust forward he gazed at the portrait as if he had never seen it before. “Nothing, of course,” she went on slowly, giving every effect to her words. “But when you spent some time in that town with the singular name--Laconia, wasn’t it?--you were young and probably quite fascinating--Storrs came from there--an interesting--a wholly admirable young man!” “Connie--I don’t get what you’re driving at!” Shep exclaimed, his eyes fastened upon his grandfather’s portrait. “Constance is merely trying to be insolent,” Mills said, but his hand shook as he took a cigarette from a box and lighted it. When he looked up he was disconcerted to find Shep regarding him with a blank stare. Constance, already at the door, said quietly: “Come, Shep. I think we must be going.” The silence of the house was broken in a moment by the closing of the front door. II