od staring as at the size of it--then translated it into his own
terms. "If I'll obligingly announce to the world that I've made an ass
of myself you'll kindly forbear from your united effort--the charming
pair of you--to show me up for one?"

Lady Grace, as if consciously not caring or attempting to answer this,
simply gave the first flare of his criticism time to drop. It wasn't
till a minute passed that she said: "You don't agree to my compromise?"

Ah, the question but fatally sharpened at a stroke the stiffness of his
spirit. "Good God, I'm to 'compromise' on top of everything?--I'm to
let you browbeat me, haggle and bargain with me, over a thing that I'm
entitled to settle with you as things have ever _been_ settled among us,
by uttering to you my last parental word?"

"You don't care enough then for what you name?"--she took it up as
scarce heeding now what he said.

"For putting an end to your odious commerce--? I give you the measure,
on the contrary," said Lord Theign, "of how much I care: as you give me,
very strangely indeed, it strikes me, that of what it costs you--!" But
his other words were lost in the hard long look at her from which he
broke off in turn as for disgust.

It was with an effect of decently shielding herself--the unuttered
meaning came so straight--that she substituted words of her own. "Of
what it costs me to redeem the picture?"

"To lose your tenth-rate friend"--he spoke without scruple now.

She instantly broke into ardent deprecation, pleading at once and
warning. "Father, father, oh--! You hold the thing in your hands."

He pulled up before her again as to thrust the responsibility straight
back. "My orders then are so much rubbish to you?"

Lady Grace held her ground, and they remained face to face in opposition
and accusation, neither making the other the sign of peace. But the girl
at least _had_, in her way, held out the olive-branch, while Lord Theign
had but reaffirmed his will. It was for her acceptance of this that he
searched her, her last word not having yet come. Before it had done so,
however, the door from the lobby opened and Mr. Gotch had regained
their presence. This appeared to determine in Lady Grace a view of the
importance of delay, which she signified to her companion in a "Well--I
must think!" For the butler positively resounded, and Hugh was there.

"Mr. Crimble!" Mr. Gotch proclaimed--with the further extravagance of
projecting the visitor straight u