Then Harry let his hand seek Antony's hand, and they understood each other, without words. But Harry was very unhappy and also very angry. His betrothal to Adriana had been interfered with because it was supposed to be inimical to the social interests of his sister; and now the joy of his reconciliation to his love was shadowed by Rose's misconduct. Yet he felt that some steps must be taken at once to prevent the evils which would certainly result from her selfish weakness, if it were unchecked. For, after all, the sin resolved itself into the black one of selfishness; Rose was determined to have the pleasure she desired, though she should tear it through, the hearts of all who loved her, though it should bring her personally only misery and shame. Such thoughts were natural enough to Harry, and they irritated as well as wounded him. It scarcely needed his mother's look of reproach and querulous question as to "why he had forgotten the dinner hour," to make him speak the truth, with almost brutal frankness. "Where is father?" he asked, impatiently. "Your father has been all day hard at work in the Astor Library. He came home perfectly worn out, and had his dinner served in his study. He did not feel able to dress for the table to-night." "It is perfectly absurd. Father has some duties to his family, I think. For instance, if he would remember he had a daughter. Where is Rose?" "Rose is with that angelic young person, Miss Van Hoosen. And it is not your place to call your father 'absurd.' Some day, you will be proud of him." "My dear mother, Rose is not with Yanna." "_Yanna!_ Rose told me that she was going to the matinee with Miss Van Hoosen. I suppose she is spending the evening with her also." "Rose is at home. She was brought home by Antony Van Hoosen, in a cab. He took her from that fellow Duval. They were taking wine together in a restaurant. Now do you understand?" He spoke with gathering passion, and Mrs. Filmer looked frightened and anxious, but she answered scornfully: "No, I do not. You must speak more plainly. Is Rose sick? Is she hurt? Why should Mr. Van Hoosen interfere with Miss Filmer?" "Mother, go and ask Rose 'why.' I cannot say what I intended to say. I shall go to father; perhaps I can talk to him, if he will listen to me." Mr. Filmer was surrounded by slips of paper which he was arranging with so much absorbing interest that he did not at once look up. But as Harry remained standing before him, he said fretfully: "I have to arrange these data while the facts are fresh in my mind. What do you want, Harry?" "I want to tell you about Rose, sir. You must put down your data and listen to me. It is the most important duty you have." Then the attitude of the elder gentleman changed as quickly as a flash of light. He cast the slips of paper upon the table; his thoughtful countenance became alert; he turned round, faced his son, and asked, sharply: "What do you want to say about your sister?"