"Trifling!" he roared. "Would you
trifle with a lady from your own state, sir?"
"I was never in love with her," exclaimed Dan, angrily.
"Not in love with her? What business have you not to be in love with her?"
retorted the Major, tossing back his long white hair. "I have given her to
understand that you are in love with her, sir."
The blood rushed to Dan's head, and he stumbled over an ottoman as he
turned away.
"Then I call it unwarrantable interference," he said brutally, and went
toward the door. There the Major's flashing eyes held him back an instant.
"It was when I believed you to be worthy of her," went on the old man,
relentlessly, "when--fool that I was--I dared to hope that dirty blood
could be made clean again; that Jack Montjoy's son could be a gentleman."
For a moment only Dan stood motionless and looked at him from the
threshold. Then, without speaking, he crossed the hall, took down his hat,
and unbarred the outer door. It slammed after him, and he went out into the
night.
A keen wind was still blowing, and as he descended the steps he felt it
lifting the dampened hair from his forehead. With a breath of relief he
stood bareheaded in the drive and raised his face to the cool elm leaves
that drifted slowly down. After the heated atmosphere of the library there
was something pleasant in the mere absence of light, and in the soft
rustling of the branches overhead. The humour of his blood went suddenly
quiet as if he had plunged headlong into cold water.
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