of it, and she married him.
But she knew the soul of him, you see? She knew that this sort of rotten
foolishness was only his body. So he worshiped her. Naturally. Properly.
She meant God to him... Mighty few women like that! Candidly, I don't
think your wife is one of them. Besides, this is _after_ marriage.
That's different, Maurice. Very different. It isn't a square deal."

Maurice made a miserable shamed sound of agreement. Then he said,
huskily, "Of course I won't lie; I'll just--not tell her."

"The thing for us to do," said Mr. Houghton, "is to get you out of this
mess. Then you'll keep straight? Some fellows wouldn't. You will,
because--" he paused; Maurice looked at him with scared eyes--"because
if a man is sufficiently aware of having been a damned fool, he's
immune. I'll bet on you, Maurice."

CHAPTER XII

Yet Henry Houghton had moments of fearing that he would lose his bet,
for Maurice was such a very damned fool! One might have guessed as much
when he would not admit that Lily was lying. She might be blackmailing
him, he said; she might be a "crow"; but she wasn't lying. When his
guardian had talked it all out with him, and written a letter which
Maurice was to take to a lawyer ("she'll want to get rid of the child;
they always want to get rid of the child; so she may let you off easier
if you say you'll see that it is cared for; and we'll have Hayes put it
in black and white") when all these arrangements had been made, Maurice
almost dished the whole thing (so Mr. Houghton expressed it) by
saying--again as if the words burst up from some choked well of
truthfulness:

"Uncle Henry, it isn't blackmail; and--and I've got to be half decent!"

Down from the upper hall came a sweet, anxious voice: "Maurice, darling!
It's twelve o'clock! What _are_ you doing?"

Mr. Houghton called back: "We're talking business, Eleanor. I'll send
him up in a quarter of an hour. Don't lose your beauty sleep, my dear.
(Mary _must_ tell her not to be such an idiot!)" Then he looked at
Maurice: "My boy, you can't be decent with a leech. You've got to leave
this to Hayes."

"She isn't a leech. I ought to help her, I'll see her myself."

"My dear fellow, don't be a bigger ass than you can help! You can meet
what you see fit to call your responsibilities, as a few other
conscientious fools have done before you; though," he added, heavily,
"I hope she won't suck you dry! How you are going to squeeze out the
money, _I