encounter
thunder, rain, lightning; in fact, a chance of death from cold and
exposure, all because he dare not spend one night beneath the roof of a
respectable woman like Mrs. Connolly, with a girl friend, without
bringing down on him the censures of his entire world."

"You can, it appears, be a most eloquent advocate for the supposed
follies of any one but your husband. Nevertheless, I must persist in my
opinion that it was, to put it very charitably indeed, inconsiderate of
your brother to study his own comfort at the expense of his--girl
friend. I believe that is your way of putting it, isn't it?"

"Yes," immovably. She has so far given way to movement, however, that
she has taken up a feather fan lying near, and now so holds it between
her and Baltimore that he cannot distinctly see her face.

"As for the world you speak of--it will not judge him as leniently as
you do. It can talk. No one," bitterly, "is as good a witness of that as
I am."

"But seldom," coldly, "without reason."

"And no one is a better witness of that than you are! That is what you
would say, isn't it? Put down that fan, can't you?" with a touch of
savage impatience. "Are you ashamed to carry out your argument with me
face to face?"

"Ashamed!" Lady Baltimore has sprung suddenly to her feet, and sent the
fan with a little crash to the ground. "Oh! shame on you to mention such
a word."

"Am I to be forever your one scapegoat? Now take another one, I beseech
you," says Baltimore with that old, queer, devilish mockery on his face
that was never seen there until gossiping tongues divided him from his
wife. "Here is your brother, actually thrown to you, as it were. Surely
he will be a proof that I am not the only vile one among all the herd.
If nothing else, acknowledge him selfish. A man who thought more of a
dry coat than a young, a very young, girl's reputation. Is that nothing?
Oh! consider, I beseech you!" his bantering manner, in which there is so
much misery that it should have reached her but does not, grows stronger
every instant "Even a big chill from the heavens above would not have
killed him, whereas we all know how a little breath from the world below
can kill many a----"

"Oh I you can talk, talk, talk," says she, that late unusual burst of
passion showing some hot embers still. "But can words alter facts?" She
pauses; a sudden chill seems to enwrap her. As if horrified by her late
descent into passion she gathers herself to