in, blunt fellow. I have rough ways, and I'm a rough man."

For once she perceived some meaning in his queerness. "Hush your
nonsense!" she said, good-naturedly, the astral of a troubled smile
appearing. "You go to bed."

He kissed her and obeyed.

Edith gave him a cold greeting the next morning at the breakfast-table.

"You mustn't do that under a misapprehension," he warned her, when they
were alone in the dining-room.

"Do what under a what?" she asked.

"Speak to me. I came into the smoking-room last night 'on purpose,'" he
told her, gravely. "I have a prejudice against that young man."

She laughed. "I guess you think it means a great deal who you have
prejudices against!" In mockery she adopted the manner of one who
implores. "Bibbs, for pity's sake PROMISE me, DON'T use YOUR influence
with papa against him!" And she laughed louder.

"Listen," he said, with peculiar earnestness. "I'll tell you now,
because--because I've decided I'm one of the family." And then, as
if the earnestness were too heavy for him to carry it further, he
continued, in his usual tone, "I'm drunk with power, Edith."

"What do you want to tell me?" she demanded, brusquely.

"Lamhorn made love to Sibyl," he said.

Edith hooted. "SHE did to HIM! And because you overheard that spat
between us the other day when I the same as accused her of it, and said
something like that to you afterward--"

"No," he said, gravely. "I KNOW."

"How?"

"I was there, one day a week ago, with Roscoe, and I heard Sibyl and
Lamhorn--"

Edith screamed with laughter. "You were with ROSCOE--and you heard
Lamhorn making love to Sibyl!"

"No. I heard them quarreling."

"You're funnier than ever, Bibbs!" she cried. "You say he made love to
her because you heard them quarreling!"

"That's it. If you want to know what's 'between' people, you can--by the
way they quarrel."

"You'll kill me, Bibbs! What were they quarreling about?"

"Nothing. That's how I knew. People who quarrel over nothing!--it's
always certain--"

Edith stopped laughing abruptly, but continued her mockery. "You ought
to know. You've had so much experience, yourself!"

"I haven't any, Edith," he said. "My life has been about as exciting as
an incubator chicken's. But I look out through the glass at things."

"Well, then," she said, "if you look out through the glass you must know
what effect such stuff would have upon ME!" She rose, visibly agitated.
"What if it WAS true?" sh