g out of a trance, to all the harm she had done.

"I may be old-fashioned--" he began and then threw the phrase from him;
it was thus that Alberta, his sister, began her most offensive
pronouncements. "It has always appeared to me that we shelter our more
favored women as we shelter our planted trees, so that they may attain a
stronger maturity."

"But do they, are they--are sheltered women the strongest in a crisis?"

Fiend in human shape, he thought, she was making him question his
bringing up of Adelaide. He would not bear that. His foot stole out to
the self-starter.

For the few minutes that remained of the interview she tried to undo her
work, but the injury was too deep. His life was too near its end for
criticism to be anything but destructive; having no time to collect new
treasure, he simply could not listen to her suggestion that those he
most valued were imitation. He hated her for holding such opinion. Her
soft tones, her eager concessions, her flattering sentences, could now
make no impression upon a man whom half an hour before they would have
completely won.

He bade her a cold good night, hardly more than bent his head, the
chauffeur took the heavy coat from her, and the car had wheeled away
before she was well inside her own doorway.

Pete's brown head was visible over the banisters.

"Hello, Mother!" he said. "Did the old boy kidnap you?"

Mrs. Wayne came up slowly, stumbling over her long, blue draperies in her
weariness and depression.

"Oh, Pete, my darling," she said, "I think I've spoiled everything."

His heart stood still. He knew better than most people that his mother
could either make or mar.

"They won't hear of it?"

She nodded distractedly.

"I do make such a mess of things sometimes!"

He put his arm about her.

"So you do, Mother," he said; "but then think how magnificently you
sometimes pull them out again."

CHAPTER V

Mr. Lanley had not reported the result of his interview immediately. He
told himself that it was too late; but it was only a quarter before
eleven when he was back safe in his own library, feeling somehow not so
safe as usual. He felt attacked, insulted; and yet he also felt vivified
and encouraged. He felt as he might have felt if some one, unbidden, had
cut a vista on the Lanley estates, first outraged in his sense of
property, but afterward delighted with the widened view and the fresher
breeze. It was awkward, though, that he didn't wan