On the way back to Westmore that night, Garvin met Baird. Baird had been riding with Judith in the afternoon and had dined at Westmore and spent the evening there. When Garvin, saying that he must go to the village, had excused himself and had hurried to Ann, he had left Baird with Edward and Judith. Very soon Edward also had gone out, and Baird and Judith had spent the evening together, as was frequent of late.

Both Garvin and Baird were riding slowly, for both were engrossed by the subject to which, next to his struggle for existence, man gives his intensest interest; Baird had just parted from Judith, Garvin from Ann.

"Hello, Garvin—just back?" Baird asked.

"Yes.... Baird, I think Will Prescott wants a machine. You know he's a sort of third cousin of ours by marriage."

Baird wondered if there was any one of their class in the southeastern states who was not, by marriage or otherwise, cousin to a Westmore. It was an effective argument he had used in persuading Edwin Carter and the others who were combining to form the automobile manufacturing company in which Baird meant to have a large interest, that Garvin would serve them well if given the city agency.

"Good!" he said. "Nail him—or any one else who comes your way. The commission'll be yours."

"How soon do you think I can get back into town and get to work?" Garvin asked. "Is the agency a sure thing?" It was the question to which he had been leading.

Baird had no intention of being hurried in the matter. He meant that Edward should give a guarantee for Garvin that would make his own position in the firm "a sure thing."

"I'll know that in a few days, Garvin. I have to see Edwin Carter again—I can tell you more then. I see no reason why the thing shouldn't go through. I'm going to make every effort to get it for you."

Garvin was forced to curb his impatience. "You're a brick, Baird."

"No—I think you're the man for the place."

They parted, each taking up thoughts that had little to do with business.

Garvin looked up at the long dim line of Westmore. Let Edward have the place if he wanted it; it was rightfully Edward's; it was Edward's money that had bought up the mortgages. He would take Ann and go. Go soon, even if he had to attach himself to Baird's firm merely as a traveling agent.

He unsaddled, stalled his horse, and let himself into the house. The lights were out; Edward and Judith must have gone to bed.

But he saw, as he came up the stairs, that Edward was still up. He was standing in his open door, evidently waiting for him. In his harassed condition, Edward was the last person he wanted to see.

"You up, Ed?" he said casually.

"Yes.... Come in here—I want to speak to you."

Garvin knew instantly that something serious had happened; Edward's manner was so deadly quiet, his voice so ominously even. The apprehension that harried them all was the first thing that settled upon Garvin. "Well, what now?" he said. "Sarah again, I suppose."

Edward closed the door, then faced him. "No.... I wish that every other irresponsible in our family was as safely guarded as poor Sarah is in the place to which I took her.... Garvin Westmore, what's this thing you've been doing? Leading astray a girl who is no more than a child—meeting her at night! How far has it gone? By heaven! if you have harmed her—I'll—" Edward broke off, grasping at the self-control that was leaving him.

Garvin's brain had leaped from thought to thought. Who had spied upon him? How much did Edward know? He could not have been near them that evening. It was not possible for any one to come near the willows and he not detect it. Garvin was capable of perfect coolness, and at unexpected moments. "What girl are you talking about?" he demanded. "I've played with more than one girl on the Ridge—so did you, I reckon, in your time."

Edward drew an uneven breath. "I mean Ann Penniman."

"Yes, I've talked to Ann—what of it?"

"Answer my question! How far has this thing gone?" Edward repeated with such intense passion that Garvin recoiled, surprised rather than angered. Had he not been surprised, he would instantly have flared. "I've done Ann no harm!... But what great difference should it make to you? What's Ann Penniman to you? Why the devil should you come at me in this fashion—even if I had gone the lengths! One would suppose I'd been poaching on your preserves! I'm my own master—neither you nor any other man shall question me about how or with whom I choose to amuse myself!" Garvin had flared finally.

Edward knew well what that sudden high note in Garvin's voice portended. He spoke quickly: "I apologize.... I ought to have got at the thing differently.... Sit down a moment—I want to talk of something else, first ... this matter of your getting the agency.... I've been consulting with Baird—about it.... Sit down—"

Edward had talked with a certain haste, and yet with pauses, quieting his brother while he sought for his own self-control. It was almost beyond him; he had paused, laid hold on the thing, gone on, paused again. He ended with outward calm.

And Garvin had quieted in the sudden way usual with him. Edward had motioned him to a chair, and he took it. Edward sat down opposite to him at the desk; he looked down while he talked. "It seems it depends on me whether Baird's firm will take you on or not. If I take stock in their company, they will give you the agency. I've—"

"I don't want you to sacrifice money on my account," Garvin interrupted. "I mean to go somewhere—away from here—and just as soon as I can. I'll look about for something else, that's all."

Edward continued steadily. "I shall not be doing that. I've looked into the matter—I've had my lawyer do it—for I'm no business man. He says it's a good investment, and I'm willing to go into it. I'd do almost anything to forward either your interests or Judith's. All I can do for Sarah is to see that she has every comfort it's possible to give her at a sanatorium. I made a mistake in taking her out and bringing her here, after she had been shut away from Westmore for twelve years. No wonder her poor brain went wild again and drove her to the Mine Banks. I learned my lesson. I'll never forget that night when you and the rest went after her and we waited here, all of us certain that she had done away with herself. We've Ben Brokaw to thank for having saved us that tragedy." He looked up at his brother. "You see, Garvin, the thing I'm living for now is the Westmore family. I don't want the family to go under. You have splendid blood in you—in spite of the unfortunate inheritance our father gave you. But if you don't give yourself all the help you can, you are done for. I'd give a good deal if you would take hold on life, use your will to create something of a future for yourself. I know how hard it is to do it in this environment, so I'd be glad to have you get out of it, and glad to help you do it."

"Would you advise me to marry and give Westmore an heir?" Garvin asked with bitter sarcasm.

Edward was silent.

"We can cut that possibility out of my future, then. All I want is a more normal sort of life than I've had, and I think I may get it away from here. I mean to get it—it'll save me if anything will. You happened to have been born before father started down hill—you and Judith are the fortunate ones—it's for you to give Westmore an heir." He ended more gravely than bitterly.

"All that lies in the future," Edward returned quietly. He straightened. "Garvin, I'm willing to give you your chance away from here—I'll arrange with Baird to have you go at the earliest possible moment—will you promise in return that you will give up this thing which you have assured me was nothing but play on your part, with Ann?"

Garvin was silent for a moment; then he said, "I want to go as soon as I can. But even if I have to wait around for a while, I promise I'll not go near Ann—that bit of play is ended."

Edward studied him; their eyes met fairly. "Very well," he said. "I will see Baird to-morrow," and he rose.

Garvin got up also, but at the door he stopped. "You've questioned me, Ed—before I go I'd like to ask a question or two."

"Very well."

"Who told you I met Ann?"

"I can't answer that question."

"Did Ann tell you?"

"No—certainly not."

"Then tell me this: What's your especial interest in Ann Penniman?"

Edward's face became expressionless, but he answered clearly, "Your own judgment ought to tell you why I'm horrified at this performance of yours. If Coats Penniman knew, he would draw the same conclusion I did, and he would shoot you on sight. You know how I feel toward the Pennimans, that they have been wronged by our family. Ann deserves the love of an honest man, and it's perfectly evident to me that your intentions do not come under that head. I'll tell you quite frankly that I mean to guard Ann from you—for both your sakes. So, if, in an irrational moment, you should forget your promise to me, I warn you that you will pay dearly for it."

"Save your threats," Garvin returned coolly. "I have no intention of seeing Ann. You seem to feel strongly on the subject, more so than the matter warrants. The best thing will be for me to get away from the Ridge as soon as possible and relieve you of worry," and he went out.

Left alone, Edward paced the floor; there were vivid enough passions beneath the quiet exterior Edward Westmore presented to the world. In his agitation he spoke aloud. "I can't be candid with him, as one would be with a man!" he said passionately. "But if I find he has lied to me! If he has harmed her—!"