The coast being clear, Dick's storm-cloud burst. The Chantrelles out for their walk, he imagined them to be washing their domestic dirty linen, he took the floor.

Being alone, he meant having it out, as he termed it, with his sister. Had quite determined on doing it very quietly and calmly. Whistling a few bars of Rule Britannia by way of appropriate prelude, he said suddenly:

"I am expecting one or two important letters, Mab. I wish directly they come you would send them to the post, will you—re-directed to my club?"

"Re-directed—to—your—club!"

"Yes. I have not quite made up my mind where I shall put up, but I am bound to go into the club each day. You won't forget, will you?"

He made a pretended movement in the direction of the door. She was on her feet in a moment, stopping him; stood by his side in dismay. Seized the lapels of his coat and looked at him reproachfully, horror-stricken; fear for him tearing at her heart-strings.

"Dick!"

"Hullo!"

"What—do—you—mean?"

"What do I me—. Surely I spoke plainly. I just want you to re-direct——"

"Yes, yes, yes. But you are here!"

"Ah! Now. But I am going up to London by the afternoon train."

"To—London!"

"Yes."

Mabel's heart sank. She read obstinacy in that frowning face of his; knew what sort of thing that was to fight; had had experience of it. She played what was usually a trump card.

"And at Christmas time, too! Christmas! You will leave me here alone?"

"Alone? Well—I like that! You have got your dear friends, the Chantrelles. There isn't much of a lonely look about you when Percy is around."

"Dick!"

"Hullo!"

"Don't be horrid!"

"Why? Do you claim a monopoly of the right to be so?"

"Dick!"

Her eyes were flashing now; her face had gone crimson-coloured, and her little foot was tapping the floor. She had emotions which ran up her thermometer with the rapidity of a lightning's flash. The altitude of their tempers just then was about equally high.

"Don't keep calling me Dick like that," he said. "It's irritating."

"What's the matter?"

"With me? Nothing!"

"There is."

"Very well, there is. Have your own way. I know that way—you are like the Pears' Soap boy—you won't be happy till you get it."

"Dick!" She almost spat out his name in her fierce emphasis. "You are not going—you shall not go to town to-day!"

"All being well," he replied calmly—white heat calm—"I shall catch the three-thirty-five up."

She was white too, with annoyance. Managed to choke down some of the things she was burning to say; was alive to what their effect would be if uttered. She knew Dick; experience had taught her how large was the amount of patience needed to cope with his impetuosity. Her foot heavily on the pedal of her temper, she gave forth sweet sounds:

"What does this mean? Tell me, Dick. Why are you going?"

The voice was so very gentle that it hurt Dick to hurt her. But he persisted—the little wretch, to treat his best friend so!—she deserved it. Yawning, he said:

"Oh, I feel like spending a merry Christmas. The kind of thing that clings to Christmas cards and Dickens was so full of, you know. I am afraid there isn't enough merriment to go round here; not enough to satisfy a man with a large appetite for it."

"Why not?"

"Way it is dished up, I suppose: surroundings. I don't like your friends——"

"My friends!"

The foot slipped off the pedal: the note of temper sounded as she blazed out indignantly:

"Who asked them here?"

Dick shrugged his shoulders. Otherwise disregarded her interruption as he continued:

"—you positively insult mine."

"Insult!"

"I think that's the correct word; I can't find a more expressive one lying about."

"Pray who are the friends of mine that you do not like?"

"Refrain from the obvious! You haven't fifty thousand of them staying in the house just now!"

"The Chantrelles, you mean. I repeat, who invited them here? Answer me!"

She stamped her foot as she let loose her shaft. It went home this time: buried its head, rendering Dick furious. He had cursed himself a hundred times for being the cause of their presence. But for that——

"Look here, Mab, you and I don't want to quarrel."

A quarrel just then was the thing he was itching for; if he could have hit something or somebody it would have been an immense relief to his feelings; he went on:

"I have a friend; a man who saved my life! A man who devoted himself to me; but for whom, I should be now at the bottom of the sea."

"Dick!"

She hid her face in her hands. All the memories she had thrust aside, grateful memories, rushed back on her. She did not want Dick to see what she knew her face would show: horror of her own ingratitude to Masters. The recollection of all he had done for her brother flooded her.

"Oh, it's true! I'm not romancing. When I said good-bye to you in that Lambeth bedroom, I meant it to be a good-bye. I went on board that boat with the full intention of making a hole in the water."

"Dick! Dick! Don't say it!"

"I do say it. I say it emphatically. Life didn't seem worth the living to me. Masters shared my cabin; nursed me; tended me; made me see things differently. In fact, made a man of me. When I think of him, and all he did for me, I cry from my heart: God bless him! God bless him!"

He turned his head that she might not see the tears filling his eyes; continued:

"When I think of the debt I owe him, a debt I would pay with my life cheerfully if it would help him, I—I—I——"

She interrupted him; was standing close to him again, white-faced, dry-eyed, breathing heavily.

"Dick! Dick!" she gasped. "You don't know how you are hurting me!"

"And I bring him here," he spluttered, "to your home. Because it was the only place I could bring him to; because I thought my sister loved me, that she would stretch out a warm hand of welcome to the man who saved me. What happens? What happens? She doesn't throw the plates and dishes at him, but, by God! I wish she had! It would have been better than the cold, cutting, contemptuous nature of her insults!"

He struggled to get free from her arms; they had found their way round his neck, and her head was on his bosom. But she held him too tightly. He was unfair; she knew it; not all the wrong was on her side.

"You think nothing of me, Dick!" Her sobbing expostulation: "You ignore the things he has done; the way he has behaved to me!"

"Yes," replied Dick grimly. "Perhaps it's just as well I do. Gracie tells me that in the dead of night he came, and sat up, and nursed her back to life! That's one of the things he did for you and the child you profess to love so much! He's good at nursing, is Prince Charlie, poor old chap!—I have had some. You have had some. But it seems to have struck us in different lights; to have inspired different feelings. Personally, I'd lay down my life for him! The grandest fellow I ever met; God bless him!"

"Dick! Dick! Dick!"

She covered her face with her hands; the tears were streaming through her fingers. He went on pitilessly; his blood was too hot now for softness.

"You don't see anything to be grateful for in what he did for you. On the contrary, his kindly affection for Gracie is a cause of complaint! You coolly tell me I don't know the things he has done, and how he has behaved to you! 'Prince Charlie'—yes. Gracie was right in naming him so. He is a prince; a Real Prince. The child has more gratitude in her little finger than you——"

She stopped him. Would not let him continue. Placed a hand over his mouth as she cried:

"Dick, you are breaking my heart!"