"Margaret, you want to make me uncomfortable," he exclaimed pettishly. "But you shan't. No, my dear, you shan't." He let himself sink back again and joining the tips of his fingers contemplated the ceiling. But Margaret was in the mind to try. She shot out her words at him like so many explosive bullets. "Being friends is one thing, Harold. Marrying is another." "Very true, Margaret, very true." "They are in love with one another." "Rubbish, Margaret, rubbish." "I watched them at the dinner-table and afterwards. They are man and woman, Harold. That's what you don't understand. They are not illustrations of your theories. Ask Robert." "No," exclaimed Robert Pettifer. He hurriedly lit a cigar. "Any inference I should make must be purely hypothetical." "Yes, we'll ask Robert. Come, Pettifer!" cried Mr. Hazlewood. "Let us have your opinion." Robert Pettifer came reluctantly down from his corner. "Well, if you insist, I think they were very friendly." "Ah!" cried Hazlewood in triumph. "Being friends is one thing, Margaret. Marrying is another." Mrs. Pettifer shook her head over her brother with a most aggravating pity. "Dick said a shrewd thing the other day to me, Harold." Mr. Hazlewood looked doubtfully at his sister. "I am sure of it," he answered, but he was careful not to ask for any repetition of the shrewd remark. Margaret, however, was not in the mind to let him off. "He said that sentimental philosophers sooner or later break their heads against their own theories. Mark those words, Harold! I hope they won't come true of you. I hope so very much indeed." But it was abundantly clear that she had not a shadow of doubt that they would come true. Mr. Hazlewood was stung by the slighting phrase. "I am not a sentimental philosopher," he said hotly. "Sentiment I altogether abhor. I hold strong views, I admit." "You do indeed," his sister interrupted with an ironical laugh. "Oh, I have read your pamphlet, Harold. The prison walls must cast no shadow and convicts, once they are released, have as much right to sit down at our dinner-tables as they had before. Well, you carry your principles into practice, that I will say. We had an illustration to-night." "You are unjust, Margaret," and Mr. Hazlewood rose from his chair with some dignity. "You speak of Mrs. Ballantyne, not for the first time, as if she had been tried and condemned. In fact she was tried and acquitted," and in his turn he appealed to Pettifer. "Ask Robert!" he said. But Pettifer was slow to answer, and when he did it was without assurance.