am in the father's eyes which gave Thor a second
pang. He had seen it once or twice already during these weeks of partial
estrangement. It was the gleam of hope--of hope that Thor might have
grown repentant. It had the sparkle of fire in it when, seated in a
business attitude at the desk which held the center of the library, he
looked up expectantly at his son. "Well, my boy?"

Thor remained standing. "It's about that property of Fay's, father."

"Oh, again?" The light in the eyes went out with the suddenness of an
electric lamp.

"I only want to say this, father," Thor hurried on, so as to get the
interview over, "that if you want to sell the place, I'll take it. I'll
take it on your own terms. You can make them what you like."

Archie leaned on the desk, passing his hand over his brow. "I'm sorry,
Thor. I can't."

Thor had the curious reminiscent sensation of being once more a little
boy, with some pleasure forbidden him. "Oh, father, why? I want it
awfully."

"So I see. I don't see why you should, but--"

"Well, I'll tell you. I want to protect Fay, because--"

Masterman interrupted without looking up. "And that's just what I don't
want to do. I want to get rid of the lot."

Rid of the lot! The expression was alarming. In his father's mind the
issue, then, was personal. It was not only personal, but it was
inclusive. It included Rosie. She was rated in--the lot. Clearly the
minute had come at which to speak plainly.

"If you want to get rid of them on my account, father, I may as well
tell you--"

"No; it's got nothing to do with you." He was still resting his forehead
on his hand, looking downward at the blotting-paper on his desk. "It's
Claude."

Thor started back. "Claude? What's he got to do with it?"

"I hadn't made up my mind whether to tell you or not; but--"

"He doesn't even know them. Of course he knows who they are. Fay was
Grandpa Thorley's--"

Masterman continued to speak wearily. "He may not know them all. It's
motive enough for my action that he knows--the girl."

"Oh no, he doesn't."

"You'd better ask him."

"I have asked him."

"Then you'd better ask him again."

"But, father, she couldn't know him without my seeing it. I'm at the
house nearly every day. The mother, you know."

"Apparently your eyes aren't sharp enough. You should take a lesson from
your uncle Sim."

"But, father, I don't understand--"

"Then I'll tell you. It seems that Claude has known this girl for