Satan--than whom no higher sat.

Still, it is generally allowed that Milton wrote bad grammar there."

Cynthia was awed momentarily--a quotation from "Paradise Lost" always
commands respect--so she harked back to an easier topic.

"Is your sister married?"

"Yes."

"What is her husband?"

"She married rather well, as the saying is. Her husband is a man named
Scarland, and he is chiefly interested in pedigree cattle."

"Let me see," she mused. "I seem to remember the name; it had
something to do with fat cattle, too.... Scarland? Does he exhibit?"

Medenham wished then that he had not been so glib with the Marquis of
Scarland's pet occupation.

"I have been in England so little during the past few years----" he
began.

"I hope you haven't quarreled with your sister?" she put in promptly.

"What, quarrel with Betty? I?" And he laughed at the conceit, though
he wondered what Cynthia would say if, on Monday, he deviated a few
miles from the Hereford and Shrewsbury main road and showed her
Scarland Towers and the park in which the marquis's prize stock were
fattening.

"Oh, is she so nice? And pretty, too, I suppose?"

"People generally speak of her as good-looking. It is a recognized
fact, I believe, that pretty girls usually have brothers not so
favored----"

"What, fishing now as well as rowing? Didn't I say you had a Norman
aspect?"

"Consisting largely of a scowl, I understand."

"But a man is bound to look fierce sometimes. At least, my father
does, though he is celebrated for his unchanging aspect, no matter
what happens. Perhaps he may look like a Sphinx when he is carrying
through what he calls 'a deal,' but I remember very well seeing
lightning in his eye when an Italian prince was rude to me one day. We
were at Pompeii, and this Prince Monte-something induced me to look at
a horrid fresco under the pretense that it was very artistic. Without
thinking what I was doing, I ran to father and complained about it. My
goodness! I wonder the lava didn't melt again before he got through
with his highness, who, after all, was a bit of a virtuoso, and may
have really admired nasty subjects so long as they conformed to
certain standards of art."

"Some ideals call for correction by the toe of a strong boot--I share
Mr. Vanrenen's views on that point most emphatically."

Medenham's character was one that transmuted words to deeds. He drove
the skiff onward with a powerful sweep that discovered