"Of course," he added, "his father was only too glad to pay his debts. But boys don't always see things in their true proportions. Neither do women." Westguard, silent, scowling, pulled at his pipe for a while, then: "Why should you play surgeon and nurse in such a loathsome hospital?" "Somebody must. I seem better fitted to do it than the next man." "Yes," said Westguard with a wry face, "I fancy somebody must do unpleasant things--even among the lepers of Molokai. But I'd prefer real lepers." "The social sort are sometimes sicker," laughed Quarren. "I don't agree with you.... By the way, it's all off between my aunt and me." "I'm sorry, Karl----" "I'm not! I don't want her money. She told me to go to the devil, and I said something similar. Do you know what she wants me to do?" he added angrily. "Give up writing, live on an allowance from her, and marry Chrysos Lacy! What do you think of that for a cold-blooded and impertinent proposition! We had a fearful family row," he continued with satisfaction--"my aunt bellowing so that her footmen actually fled, and I doing the cool and haughty, and letting her bellow her bally head off." "You and she have exchanged civilities before," said Quarren, smiling. "Yes, but this is really serious. I'm damned if I give up writing." "Or marry Chrysos Lacy?" "Or that, either. Do you think I want a red-headed wife? And I've never spoken a dozen words to her, either. And I'll pick out my own wife. What does my aunt think I am? I wish I were in love with somebody's parlour-maid. B'jinks! I'd marry her, just to see my aunt's expression----" "Oh, stop your fulminations," said Quarren, laughing. "That's the way with you artistic people; you're a passionate pack of pups!" "I'm not as passionate as my aunt!" retorted Westguard wrathfully. "Do you consider her artistic? She's a meddlesome, malicious, domineering, insolent, evil old woman, and I told her so." Quarren managed to stifle his laughter for a moment, but his sense of the ludicrous was keen, and the scene his fancy evoked sent him off into mirth uncontrollable. Westguard eyed him gloomily; ominous clouds poured from "The Weather-breeder." "Perhaps it's funny," he said, "but she and I cannot stand each other, and this time it's all off for keeps. I told her if she sent me another check I'd send it back. That settles it, doesn't it?" "You're foolish, Karl----" "Never mind. If I can't keep myself alive in an untrammelled and self-respecting exercise of my profession--" His voice ended in a gurgling growl. Then, as though the recollections of his injuries at the hands of his aunt still stung him, he reared up in his chair: "Chrysos Lacy," he roared, "is a sweet, innocent girl--not a bale of fashionable merchandise! Besides," he added in a modified tone, "I was rather taken by--by Mrs. Leeds." Quarren slowly raised his eyes.