"Will you come into the house with me, Gladys?" she asked. "Excuse me, Montague, please." Pendleton had instantly found his feet--Porshinger was a trifle slower. Gladys bowed perfunctorily to the latter, and followed Stephanie. Pendleton resumed his seat and slowly lit another cigarette. Porshinger laughed, a chuckling sort of laugh. "I'm squelched, did you notice it?" he remarked. "I noticed the intention, but not the desired result," Pendleton answered very coldly. Porshinger's small eyes flashed a keen look at him--had Stephanie been telling them the truth--or only part of it? He had felt certain she would tell nothing--simply let it be inferred that they had had a disagreement; but there was something in the atmosphere that suggested---- "A slight disagreement last night at the Croydens' over a trifling matter," he laughed easily. "It's funny how a woman can make a man pay up for a little thing. You might imagine from the way she acted that I had done Mrs. Lorraine a grievous wrong." Pendleton smoked and was silent. In truth, he could not quite determine just how to meet the matter, knowing the facts and of Lorraine's contemplated action--whether to show he was aware of anything more than the actual incident of the moment, or to tell Porshinger his opinion of him. The latter, however, would entail the possibility of violence if Porshinger elected to become offensive in his statements as to Stephanie. He _wanted_ to smash Porshinger's face into a nothingness--yet that would be only a temporary personal satisfaction, and would complicate the matter still more without accomplishing anything.