"Anything the matter, sir?" George lifted a silver cover. "That's not what I ordered." "You said a kidney omelette, sir." "I wanted the kidney broiled--not in a messy sauce. Take it away." "I'll get you another." "I don't want another. Take it away." He flung his napkin on the tray and turned his face to the wall. "I've got a headache. Tell Waterman that if he asks for me, that I've told you to go down and meet Miss MacVeigh." Kemp stood and looked at the figure humped up under the light silk cover. He had long patience. He might have been a stick or stone under his master's abuse. But he was not a stick or a stone. It seemed too that suddenly his soul expanded. No man had ever called him a fool, and he had worn a decoration in France. He knew what he was going to do. And for the first time in many months he felt himself a free man. George's decision to have Kemp meet Madge had been founded on the realization that it would be unbearably awkward if he should pass Becky on the road. She had sent back his pendant without a word, and there was no telling how she was taking it. If the thing were ever renewed--and his mind dwelt daringly on that possibility, explanations would be easy--but he couldn't make explanation if she saw him first in a car with another woman. It was thus that Madge, arriving on the noon train, found Kemp waiting for her. Kemp was very fond of Miss MacVeigh. She was not a snob and there were so many snobs among Dalton's friends. She talked to him as if he were a man and not a mechanical toy. Dalton, on the other hand, treated his valet as if he were a marionette to be pulled by strings, an organ controlled by stops, or a typewriter operated by keys. Major Prime had come down on the same train. Randy, driving Little Sister, was there to meet him. "It is good to get back," the Major said. "I've been homesick." "We missed you a lot. Yesterday we had a barbecue, and you should have been here----" "I wanted to be, Randy. I hope you are not going to turn me out with the rest of the boarders when you roll in affluence." "Affluence, nothing--but I sold two cars yesterday----" "Not bad for a poet." "It is a funny sort of game," said Randy soberly; "all day I run around in this funny little car, and at night I think big thoughts and try to put them on paper." He could not tell the Major that the night before his thoughts had not been the kind to put on paper. He had been in a white fury. He knew that if he met Dalton nothing could keep him from knocking him down. He felt that a stake and burning fagots would be the proper thing, but, failing that, fists would do. Yet, there was Becky's name to be considered. Revenge, if he took it, must be a subtle thing--his mind had worked on it in the darkness of the night. Kemp was helping Madge into the Waterman car. "Who is she?" the Major asked. "She came down on my train." "Miss MacVeigh. Mrs. Waterman is very ill. There is to be an operation at once."