Beatrice and Roger shook hands--that is, Beatrice let her hand rest lifelessly in Roger’s until he dropped it. He bowed them out into the sunshine and stood in the doorway, watching them. At the edge of the forest Beatrice turned suddenly and started back. Roger saw her father wheel round--heard his sharp “Beatrice!”--saw his look of furious amazement. The girl came almost running. Roger braced himself, through his whole body a gripping sensation that might be either terror or delight. When she stood before him, her eyes down, her cheeks pale, her bosom heaving, she said: “The other day you asked me whether I’d give up everything for you. I didn’t know then. I do know now.” “Pardon me, but I did not,” said Roger, calm and cold. “However it was,” she rushed on, “that question came up. And I didn’t know then whether I would or would not. Well, I know now.” “Your father is impatient.” “I’m sure I would,” she said, a fascinating haughty humility in her face, in her voice. And she looked so brilliantly young and ardent. Roger’s glance fled before hers. A brief electric silence, then he laughed pleasantly. “And _I’m_ sure you wouldn’t. And it doesn’t matter whether you would or wouldn’t. Good-by, Rix. Your father’s look is aimed to kill.” “How cruel you are--and how blind!” she cried, eyes and cheeks aflame. And as quickly as she had come she sped away to rejoin her father. Roger heaved a great sigh. “Now,” said he aloud, “I’ve seen the last of her. I can resume.” VIII AN INFURIATE FATHER “I suppose you went back to apologize for me,” said her father as they started on together. “You don’t understand him,” replied she miserably. “Artists--great artists--are different.” “He _is_ a good deal of a man. D’Artois was right. I’ll see that he does those panels.” And Richmond gave the nod of a man who has money and knows that money is all-powerful. Beatrice stopped short, her eyes opened wide. “Why,” exclaimed she, “I thought you disliked him!” “Not at all--not at all,” replied her father. “He’s a disagreeable chap. But all men who amount to anything are. A man who’s thoroughly agreeable is invariably weak. An agreeable man’s rarely worth more then twelve or fifteen a week. What this world needs is more people like this friend of yours. I saw that he had built himself up solidly from the ground. I wish I had a son like that! Your brothers are pretty poor excuses, thanks to the vicious training your mother has given them. ‘Be a gentleman--and make everybody comfortable--don’t do anything to hurt anybody’s feelings or to make yourself conspicuous.’ That is, be a cipher.” Richmond snorted. “A gentleman is a cipher--and ciphers count for nothing unless they’re annexed after a figure that stands for something. But I suppose a successful man can’t expect to have strong sons. He has to be thankful if they’re not imbecile or dissipated.”