ife--whoever she may be--will meet with no discourtesy under my roof."

"Is that the best you can offer us?"

"Louis! Louis!--if it lay only with me--I would do what you wished--even
this--if it made you happy--"

He took her in his arms and kissed her in silence.

"You don't understand," she said,--"it is not I--it is the family--our
entire little world against her. It would be only an eternal, hopeless,
heart-breaking struggle for you, and for her;--pain for you--deep pain
and resentment and bitterness for those who did not--perhaps could
not--take your views of--"

"I don't care, mother, as long as you and father and Lily stand by her.
And Valerie won't marry me unless you do. I didn't tell you that, but it
is the truth. And I'm fighting very hard to win her--harder than you
know--or will ever know. Don't embitter me; don't let me give up.
Because, if I do, it means desperation--and things which you never could
understand.... And _I_ want you to talk to father. Will you? And to
Lily, too. Its fairer to warn her that I have learned of her meeting
Valerie. Then I'll talk to them both and see what can be done.... And,
mother, I am very happy and very grateful and very proud that you are
going to stand by me--and by the loveliest girl in all the world."

That night Lily came to his room. Her eyes were red, but there was fire
in them. She seated herself and surveyed her brother with ominous
self-possession.

"Well, Lily," he said pleasantly, prepared to keep his temper at all
hazards.

"Well, Louis, I understand from mother that you have some questions to
ask me."

"No questions, little sister; only your sympathetic attention while I
tell you how matters stand with me."

"You require too much!" she said shortly.

"If I ask for your sympathy?"

"Not if you ask it for yourself, Louis. But if you include that--"

"Please, dear!" he interrupted, checking her with a slight gesture--for
an instant only; then she went on in a determined voice:

"Louis, I might as well tell you at once that I have no sympathy for
her. I wrote to her, out of sheer kindness, for her own good--and she
replied so insolently that--that I am not yet perfectly recovered--"

"What did you write?"

Mrs. Collis remained disdainfully silent, but her eyes sparkled.

"Won't you tell me," he asked, patiently, "what it was you wrote to
Valerie West?"

"Yes, I'll tell you if you insist on knowing!--even if you do
misconstrue it! I wrote to