need for an answer, even though he must strike at her unchivalrously upon a wound which he must have believed cured long ago.
"You see," he said, "all this comes of making a marriage long ago that I was against. I knew what I was talking about when I warned you against Jason Downes."
For a moment she did not answer him, but when she spoke it was to upset him, horribly, by one of those caprices to which women are prey. It may have been because of the strain of the day, but it was more probable that there still was left the embers of her old, inexplicable passion for the worthless Mr. Downes, embers fanned into flame by the return of Philip.
She said, "Very well, Elmer. I'll tell him, but you can consider everything over between you and me, too. I don't want to see you again. If you can't speak to Philip, you needn't speak to me either. I should never have told you. You haven't done anything at all but make things worse."
For a time he only stared at her out of round eyes that were like blue marbles. "Well!" he said, coughing. "Well! I've done my duty. Don't say that I haven't."
"A lot of good it's done," said Emma with bitterness, "a lot of good. . . ."
She seemed, the indomitable Emma, very near to tears. In her corner Naomi snuffled so that they would take some notice of her.
He had meant to make his exit with a cold dignity, and a sense of injury, but Aunt Mabelle stood across his path. Unable any longer to keep up the battle against sleep, she was dozing peacefully in her rocking-chair, unconscious even of the scene that had taken
