"Oh, yes, I know what you will say. But I should have tempered justice with mercy." Her nerves tingled with pity for Burnamy, but in her heart she was glad that her husband had had strength to side with him against himself, and she was proud of the forbearance with which he had done it. In their earlier married life she would have confidently taken the initiative on all moral questions. She still believed that she was better fitted for their decision by her Puritan tradition and her New England birth, but once in a great crisis when it seemed a question of their living, she had weakened before it, and he, with no such advantages, had somehow met the issue with courage and conscience. She could not believe he did so by inspiration, but she had since let him take the brunt of all such issues and the responsibility. He made no reply, and she said: "I suppose you'll admit now there was always something peculiar in the poor boy's manner to Stoller." He would confess no more than that there ought to have been. "I don't see how he could stagger through with that load on his conscience. I'm not sure I like his being able to do so." She was silent in the misgiving which she shared with him, but she said: "I wonder how far it has gone with him and Miss Triscoe?" "Well, from his wanting you to give his message to the general in the plural--" "Don't laugh! It's wicked to laugh! It's heartless!" she cried, hysterically. "What will he do, poor fellow?" "I've an idea that he will light on his feet, somehow. But, at any rate, he's doing the right thing in going to own up to Stoller." "Oh, Stoller! I care nothing for Stoller! Don't speak to me of Stoller!" Burnamy fond the Bird of Prey, as he no longer had the heart to call him, walking up and down in his room like an eagle caught in a trap. He erected his crest fiercely enough, though, when the young fellow came in at his loudly shouted, "Herein!" "What do you want?" he demanded, brutally. This simplified Burnamy's task, while it made it more loathsome. He answered not much less brutally, "I want to tell you that I think I used you badly, that I let you betray yourself, that I feel myself to blame." He could have added, "Curse you!" without change of tone. Stoller sneered in a derision that showed his lower teeth like a dog's when he snarls. "You want to get back!" "No," said Burnamy, mildly, and with increasing sadness as he spoke. "I don't want to get back. Nothing would induce me. I'm going away on the first train." "Well, you're not!" shouted Stoller. "You've lied me into this--" "Look out!" Burnamy turned white.