"Oh, nothing!" he said noisily. Then he leaned forward, his eyes fixed boldly, covetously on her. "I say, when you've got an open date, why not come joy-riding with me?" "Oh!" She drew back, stung to the quick of her pride. He misunderstood her action, perhaps. Shrugging his shoulders, he went on: "Why not? I'm as good a spender as some of the high-rollers!" "How dare you?" she cried, blushing hot under his look. "What do you think I am? Go with _you_!" "You needn't be so particular!" he said, angry in his turn at her contempt. "A chauffeur's not a servant. And I guess I've kept your secrets, young lady!" "What do you mean?" "Look here! I'm no fool! Don't you think I know your game? Don't you think I got on to the brother racket that night? All right! Don't get in a huff! What've I done? Invited you out! What are you turning up your nose at me for? Come, now!" He had ended in a conciliatory tone, smiling at her indignant face with undisguised admiration. "Brennon, that's enough! I shan't want you, now or ever! Mr. Peavey shall hear of this!" "Oh, will he?" he said, with an ugly look. "Then he'll hear of a good deal more! What are you but a--" She gave a cry of shame at the word he flung out in anger, and rushed into the house, utterly crushed and revolted, wounded as she had never been before in all her life. The whole day had been one of blank defeat. Now with her body smarting as if from a blow, broken in spirit, clinging to the window-frame, she had a sudden ominous chill. It seemed as if in a twinkle everything had changed for her--that all that had been so rosy and brilliant before, was now become grim and black; that everything had been broken up; that, one by one, all would fall away. And, as if her cup of bitterness were not full, in her mail she found the one letter she had dreaded for months: