‘Philip,’ she said, in her rasping tones, ‘is it true that you were the leading spirit in your travels with Mr. Torwood, as Sir Herbert seemed to imply? Considering that you were entirely dependent upon him, it seems rather curious that he should depend upon you.’ ‘Well, my dear aunt, I suppose when two people travel and live together, year after year, they do grow to lean one upon the other to a certain extent. Of course I tried all I could to save Torwood trouble, and he may have come to depend in a certain measure upon me. I do not see anything peculiar in that. I suppose I have the stronger will of the two, and that always tells in the long-run.’ ‘You had not a strong will as a child,’ said Mrs. Belassis shortly. ‘Perhaps I was never allowed the use of it,’ suggested Tor, smiling. ‘Well, you have certainly made up for lost time now,’ retorted the lady, beginning to wield her fan, a sure sign that she was put out. ‘Your friend no doubt found as much, to his cost.’ ‘We never quarrelled, anyway.’ ‘But you always took the lead?’ ‘I did not say that; but I may have done so to a certain extent.’ ‘Your letters always gave us to understand quite the contrary. It was always Mr. Torwood who planned and arranged and paid for everything. I always thought that you were a kind of tame dog or valet to him.’ ‘I am sure you would always think what was kind and flattering,’ answered Tor, with a little satirical bow, which greatly annoyed Mrs. Belassis, who was not used to retort. ‘You always gave us cause to think what was flattering, did you not?’ she asked, with a sneer. ‘Running away from your uncle’s care the moment the time came for you to earn a living, and repay him for all the benefits heaped upon you—running away to live on the charity of a stranger, who might kick you over at any moment, rather than be independent and do honest work. I wish Mr. Torwood had turned you adrift, just that you might learn what you had lost by your folly and pride.’ ‘I am always grateful for good wishes,’ said Tor pleasantly. ‘Have you any more to offer me before I go?’ ‘I am glad to hear that you are grateful—I should hardly have thought as much from my knowledge of your character. I suppose you consider yourself under obligations to the friend upon whose charity you have lived all these years? Yet now that your prosperity has come, you leave him ill and alone in Germany, whilst you come over to enjoy your inheritance here. Your ideas of gratitude are evidently as original as the rest of your character.’