“I’ve had enough of this.” Hugh’s voice was thunder when he was first to break under the strain. “Go with your mother! Play the hero as much as you damned please! I’m through with you! You’ll find it pretty hard to get out of this trouble without a penny of the money you scorn to help you!” “I’ll take my chances with hundreds of others—that’s all.” Howard’s serene reply held the indulgence of the conqueror. Marjorie Benton, too heartfull to speak, to stand between father and son, could hardly realize that this wonderful boy, standing there, superbly defending her, was her son! Never for a moment had she doubted Elinor’s loyalty, and the blow she had received from her had been as unexpected as crushing. Now, as her husband stalked toward the door with the finality she knew so well, she hurried across the space to place herself in the doorway, obstructing his passage. There was no hint of pleading now, though. All that had gone from Marjorie Benton forever. But there was in the determination with which she barred Hugh Benton’s way something greater—the greatest thing in all the world—the determination of the mother to fight for the child she loves. Her voice was menacingly soft as she spoke, ignoring his annoyed gesture to be allowed to past. “Just a moment, Hugh,” she said, “we have not quite finished yet. Last night,” she went on, “you made me an offer. You have not forgotten it?” “An offer?” Hugh lifted eyebrows in puzzled surprise. “You said if I would consent to a divorce, you would arrange everything and settle three-quarters of your fortune upon me.” “Yes—I believe I did say that.” “Are you still willing to go through with it?” “Most assuredly I am.” “Then,” Marjorie’s voice rang clear as a bell, “I accept your proposition! Get your divorce any way that you please! I don’t care what the grounds are—only see that I am given every dollar that you promised me!” “I understand,” Hugh sneered. “You intend using that money for Howard.” “What difference can it make to you—how I intend using it?” she inquired coldly. His voice was cold as her own as he rejoined: “Nothing matters to me—except my freedom. Come, baby!” He looked pityingly at Elinor. “You’re completely worn out—I’m going to take you upstairs.” Alone with his mother, Howard’s diffidence returned. In spite of all his newly-found chivalry he did not feel at ease. “Mother,” he began, “I can’t let you do this for me. You don’t believe in divorce.” “I believe in a _great many_ things,” Marjorie answered, her eyes filled with unshed tears, “that I never believed before. I believe that it takes a great sorrow to bring forth the real character of a true man or woman.” “You never would have given father his freedom if this hadn’t happened with me.” Marjorie placed both hands tenderly upon Howard’s shoulders and looked up at him with eyes brimming with love. “I’m so proud of you—my son!” she murmured.