"Tyrant" was the least of them, and, worse than that, she had, in a very fury of temper, told him that he "needn't take that pompous"--yes, "pompous" had been her unpleasant word--"tone" with her, when he had inquired, more in sorrow than in anger, if this were really his Genevieve speaking. There was a pause in their hostilities. They looked at each other aghast. Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. Each saw that love [Illustration: "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that_? Why, really, that's _tyranny_!"] in the other's heart was dead, and that things never could be the same again. So they stood looking down this dark gulf, and the light of anger died. In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to breakfast." The two ladies were seated at table. "We heard you two love birds cooing and billing, and thought we might as well begin," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "Regularity is of the highest importance in bringing up a child." Cousin Emelene was reading the _Sentinel._ George's quick eye glanced at the headlines: _Candidate Remington Heckled by Suffragists. Ask Him Leading Questions._ "Why, dear me," she remarked, her kind eyes on George, "it's perfectly awful, isn't it, that they break the laws that way just for a little more money. But I don't see why they want to annoy dear George. They ought to be glad they are going to get a district attorney who'll put all those things straight. I think it's very silly of them to ask him, don't you, Genevieve?" "Let me see," said Genevieve, taking the paper. "All he's got to do, anyway, is to answer," pursued Cousin Emelene. "Yes, that's all," replied Genevieve, her melancholy gaze on George. Yesterday she would have had Emelene's childlike faith. But this stranger, who, for a trivial and tyrannical reason, had sent away Betty--how would _he_ act? "They showed these right opposite your windows?" she questioned. "Yes," he returned. "Our friend Mrs. Herrington did it herself. It was the first course of our dinner. If you think that's good taste--" "I would expect it of her," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "But it makes it so easy for George," Emelene repeated. "They'll know now what sort of a man he is. Little children at work, just to make a little more money--it's awful!" "Talking about money, George," said Alys, "have you seen to my houses yet?" "Not yet," replied the harassed George. "You'll have to excuse my going into the reasons now. I'm late as it is." His voice had not the calm he would have wished for. As he took his departure, he heard Alys saying, "If you'll let me, my dear, I'd adore helping you about the housekeeping. I don't want to stay here and be a burden. If you'll just turn it over to me, I could cut your housekeeping expenses in half." "Damn the women," was the unchivalrous thought that rose to George's lips.