"But I am not going to be vindictive," he resumed. "It is only natural that you should feel a little sore and hurt. One doesn't turn out of a snug crib like this without turning a hair. As a matter of fact, there is no reason why you should go at all, at least, not for some time to come. I don't suppose I shall ever marry--I'm not that kind of chap. There is no reason why Mary and the old gentleman and myself shouldn't be very snug here together. Mr. Dashwood wants little more than the run of his teeth at his time of life." Mary's cheeks flamed at the unconscious humiliation. She was being offered a home as a pauper and a dependent; it was infinitely worse than going into a workhouse. Mary had never dreamed of being humbled and crushed in the dust like this. Before she could reply, Slight looked into the doorway, his dry, red face screwed up into the semblance of respect. He announced Horace Mayfield in a loud voice. Mayfield came in, glass in eye, serene and self-confident, his hard mouth looking more like a steel trap than ever. The quiet triumph in his eyes was not lost on Mary; she did not fail to note the gleam of possession as he glanced at her. There was cold consolation in the knowledge that after all Mayfield was powerless to hold her soul and body in thraldom any longer. "I beg your pardon," Mayfield said, "I seem to be intruding on a family conference or something of that kind. Slight did not tell me, though I have every reason to believe that he was listening outside the door. What are you doing here?" The question was flung headlong at Vincent Dashwood, who had started and changed colour as Mayfield came in. Evidently these two knew one another, for Mayfield was rudely contemptuous, Dashwood cringing yet defiant. Was there yet another vulgar mystery here? Mary wondered wearily. "Perhaps I had better explain," Ralph said. "This, Mr. Mayfield, is an unexpected, but nevertheless dramatic situation. Let me present you to Sir Vincent Dashwood, only son and heir of the late Ralph Dashwood, who died some time ago. Sir Vincent had some natural hesitation in declaring his identity; he was loth to upset existing arrangements. We must all respect proper feeling of that kind. One reason Sir Vincent had for keeping his personality a secret was the fact that he lacked the legal proof of his parent's marriage. By a fortunate chance I was able to supply the omission. Still, we need not go into that. The fact remains that Sir Vincent has now established his claim, as the family solicitors will admit without unnecessary delay. Unhappily, this new condition of affairs makes it very awkward for Sir George--I mean, Mr. George Dashwood. By this cruel stroke he finds himself practically a pauper. And on Miss Dashwood the blow falls with the same heavy weight. The heiress becomes dependent upon the charity of the head of the family."