"You're mistaken. Many people are afraid of you, but I never was and never could be. You're no good; you never were. If you didn't lug my name about with you I'd let you go to hell. You'll go there anyway, but you'll go married first." "I expect to." "Married to Mary Ledwith," she said looking at him. He picked up a cigar, examined it, yawned, then glanced at her: "As I had--recently--occasion to tell Chester Ledwith, I'll marry whom I please. Now suppose you clear out." "Are you dining with us?" "No." "What time may we expect you to-morrow?" "At no time." "Do you intend to marry Mary Ledwith?" "No." "Is that final?" "Yes!" "Do you expect to marry anybody else?" "Yes!" he shouted, partly rising from his chair, his narrow face distorted. "Yes, I do! Now you know, don't you! Is the matter settled at last? Do you understand clearly?--you fat-headed, meddlesome old fool!" He sprang to his feet in an access of fury and began loping up and down the room, gesticulating, almost mouthing out his hatred and abuse--rendered more furious still by the knowledge of his own weakness and disintegration--his downfall from that silent citadel of self-control which had served him so many years as a stronghold for defiance or refuge. "You impertinent old woman!" he shouted, "if you don't keep your fat nose out of my affairs I'll set a thousand men tampering with the foundations of your investments! Keep your distance and mind your business--I warn you now and for the last time, or else--" He swung around on her, and the jaw muscles began to work--"or else I'll supply the Yellows with a few facts concerning that Englishman's late father and yourself!" Mrs. Sprowl's face went pasty-white; in the fat, colourless expanse only the deathless fury of her eyes seemed alive. "So _that_ fetched you," he observed, coolly. "I don't want to give you apoplexy; I don't want you messing up my house. I merely want you to understand that it's dangerous to come sniffing and nosing around my threshold. You _do_ understand, I guess." He continued his promenade but presently came back to her: "You know well enough who I want to marry. If you say or do one thing to interfere I'll see that you figure in the Yellows." He thought a moment; the colour slowly returned to her face. After a fit of coughing she struggled to rise from her chair. He let her pant and scuffle and kick for a while, then opened the door and summoned her footman. "I'm sorry I cannot drive with you this evening," he said quietly, as the footman supported Mrs. Sprowl to her feet, "but I've promised the Wycherlys. Pray offer my compliments and friendly wishes to Mrs. Ledwith." When she had gone he walked back into the library, picked up the telephone and finally got Molly Wycherly on the wire. "Won't you ask me to dinner?" he said. "I've an explanation to make to Mrs. Leeds and I'd be awfully obliged to you." There was a silence, then Molly said, deliberately: