ir turn to speak. Edith returned his gaze with
a mixture of astonishment and increasing anger, while Mr. Lamhorn was
obviously disturbed, though Bibbs had been as considerate as possible in
presenting the weather as a topic. Bibbs had perceived that Lamhorn had
nothing in his mind at any time except "personalities"--he could talk
about people and he could make love. Bibbs, wishing to be courteous,
offered the weather.

Lamhorn refused it, and concluded from Bibbs's luxurious attitude in the
leather chair that this half-crazy brother was a permanent fixture for
the rest of the evening. There was not reason to hope that he would
move, and Lamhorn found himself in danger of looking silly.

"I was just going," he said, rising.

"Oh NO!" Edith cried, sharply.

"Yes. Good night! I think I--"

"Too bad," said Bibbs, genially, walking to the door with the visitor,
while Edith stood staring as the two disappeared in the hall. She heard
Bibbs offering to "help" Lamhorn with his overcoat and the latter rather
curtly declining assistance, these episodes of departure being followed
by the closing of the outer door. She ran into the hall.

"What's the matter with you?" she cried, furiously. "What do you MEAN?
How did you dare come in there when you knew--"

Her voice broke; she made a gesture of rage and despair, and ran up the
stairs, sobbing. She fled to her mother's room, and when Bibbs came up,
a few minutes later, Mrs. Sheridan met him at his door.

"Oh, Bibbs," she said, shaking her head woefully, "you'd oughtn't to
distress your sister! She says you drove that young man right out of the
house. You'd ought to been more considerate."

Bibbs smiled faintly, noting that Edith's door was open, with Edith's
naive shadow motionless across its threshold. "Yes," he said. "He
doesn't appear to be much of a 'man's man.' He ran at just a glimpse of
one."

Edith's shadow moved; her voice came quavering: "You call yourself one?"

"No, no," he answered. "I said, 'just a glimpse of one.' I didn't
claim--" But her door slammed angrily; and he turned to his mother.

"There," he said, sighing. "That's almost the first time in my life I
ever tried to be a man of action, mother, and I succeeded perfectly in
what I tried to do. As a consequence I feel like a horse-thief!"

"You hurt her feelin's," she groaned. "You must 'a' gone at it too
rough, Bibbs."

He looked upon her wanly. "That's my trouble, mother," he murmured. "I'm
a pla