airs?"

He took a menacing step forward.

[Illustration: With a fierce gesture he took another step forward.]

Milbanke stood firm.

"I have my reasons," he said quietly.

"Your reasons, have you?" Asshlin laughed harshly. "Then I'll have my
answer. What do you mean by it?"

For a second the older man remained silent and unmoved; then a light
gleamed in his colourless eyes.

"All right!" he said. "You shall have it. Perhaps it is as well. I came
here expecting to see the boy I had known grown into a genial,
hospitable, honourable gentleman; instead, I find him an undisciplined,
tyrannical egotist."

He said it quickly in a rush of unusual vehemence. All his
anticipations, all his suspicions, and their subsequent
justification--coupled with the new sense of protection towards the
children of his early friend--found voice in these words.

"You are an egotist, Denis," he repeated distinctly. "A weak, worthless
egotist--not fit to have children--not fit to have a friend----"

Asshlin stared at him for a moment in speechless surprise; then
indignation surmounted every other feeling. With a fierce gesture he
took another step forward, his eyes blazing, his hand menacingly
clenched.

"How--how dare you?" he stammered. "How dare you? By God, if you were a
bigger man I'd--I'd----"

He paused, choked by his fury.

"I know--I know. But I'm not afraid of you. I'm not to be bullied into
subjection."

Milbanke's temper, difficult to rouse, was stirred at last. He gave his
host glance for glance.

"You realise what you have said?" Asshlin's dark face was distorted,
his voice came unsteadily.

"Yes. I regret that I have to say it, but I do not regret saying it. It
is wholesome for a man to hear the truth."

"Oh, it's wholesome to hear the truth, is it?"

"Yes; and I won't see you go to pieces for want of a word. You are a
man with obligations, and you are neglecting your obligations. There
are other things in life besides cards and horses----"

Asshlin suddenly threw back his head.

"By God, you're right!" he cried. "And the other things are a damn
sight worse. I'd put a good horse before a self-righteous preacher any
day."

Milbanke's usually pallid face flushed.

"You mean that for me?" he asked quietly.

Asshlin shrugged his shoulders.

"If you like," he said. "If the cap fits----" For a moment Milbanke
said nothing; then once again he straightened his small, thin figure.

"Very well, Denis," he sa