"You lied to him, and you
just tried to lie to me now. You're not particularly clever at it,
although I don't doubt but that you've had considerable practice."

With a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders, he walked over to the chair
at the table and sat down, still holding his hat in his hand, and
without removing his overcoat. Laura came back laden with more things.
Seeing Brockton sitting, she stopped, and, turning on him, laid the
dresses down.

"What are you going to do?" she demanded.

"Sit down here and rest a few moments; maybe longer," he replied
coolly.

She looked at him in dismay.

"You can't do that!" she exclaimed.

"I don't see why not. This is my own place."

"But don't you see that he'll come back here soon and find you here?"

"That's just exactly what I want him to do."

Laura looked at him helplessly. With suppressed emotion, almost on the
verge of hysteria, she broke out:

"I want to tell you this. If you do this thing, you'll ruin my life.
You've done enough to it already. Now, I want you to go. I don't think
you've got any right to come here now, in this way, and take this
happiness from me. I've given you everything I've got, and now I want
to live right and decently. He wants me to marry him. We love each
other. Now, Will Brockton, it's come to this. You've got to leave this
place, do you hear? You've got to leave this place. Please get out!"

Brockton was white and determined looking. For the first time in his
life, he was really angry. Leaving his chair and advancing towards her,
he said menacingly:

"Do you think I'm going to let a woman make a liar out of me? I'm going
to stay right here. I like that boy, and I'm not going to let you put
him to the bad."

"I want you to go!" she cried.

Shutting the trunk-lid down, she went over to the dresser and opened
the drawer, to get more things out.

"And I tell you I won't go," he retorted furiously. "I'm going to show
you up. I'm going to tell him the truth. It isn't you I care for--he's
got to know."

Slamming the drawer shut, she turned and faced him, almost tiger-like
in her anger.

"You don't care for me?" she cried.

"No."

"It isn't me you're thinking of?"

"No."

"Who's the liar now?"

"Liar?"

"Yes, liar. You are! You don't care for this man, and you know it."

"You're foolish."

"Yes, I am foolish, and I've been foolish all my life, but I'm getting
a little sense now."

Kneeling in the armchair facing hi