stairs: "My head is throbbing. I'll go to my room."

"Don't you worry, mater," consoled Alaric. "Leave everything to me.
I'll thrash the whole thing out--absolutely thrash it out."

As Mrs. Chichester disappeared, Alaric turned to his calm sister, who,
strangely enough, was showing some signs of life and interest.

"Awful business, Ethel, eh?"

"Pretty bad."

"Really goin' to teach?"

"Yes."

"Right! I'll find somethin', too. Very likely a doctor. We'll pull
through somehow."

Ethel made a motion toward the door as though to stop any further
conversation.

"Mr. Brent's coming," she said, almost impatiently.

Alaric started for the windows leading into the garden.

"Jolly good of you to let him bore you. I hate the sight of the beggar,
myself. Always looks to me like the first conspirator at a play."

The door opened, and Jarvis entered and ushered in "Mr. Brent." Alaric
hurried into the garden.

CHAPTER II

CHRISTIAN BRENT

A few words of description of Christian Brent might be of interest,
since he represents a type that society always has with it.

They begin by deceiving others: they end by deceiving themselves.

Christian Brent was a dark, tense, eager, scholarly-looking man of
twenty-eight years of age. His career as a diplomatist was halted at
its outset by an early marriage with the only daughter of a prosperous
manufacturer. Brent was moderately independent in his own right, but
the addition of his wife's dowry seemed to destroy all ambition. He no
longer found interest in carrying messages to the various legations or
embassies of Europe, or in filling a routine position as some one's
secretary. From being an intensely eager man of affairs he drifted into
a social lounger--the lapdog of the drawing-room--where the close
breath of some rare perfume meant more than the clash of interests, and
the conquest of a woman greater than that of a nation.

Just at this period Ethel Chichester was the especial object of his
adoration.

Her beauty appealed to him.

Her absolute indifference to him stung him as a lash. It seemed to
belittle his powers of attraction. Consequently he redoubled his
efforts.

Ethel showed neither like nor dislike--just a form of toleration. Brent
accepted this as a dog a crumb, in the hope of something more
substantial to follow. He had come that morning with a fixed resolve.
His manner was determined. His voice wooed as a caress. He went
tenderly to Ethel th