Ross was silent, struggling against curiosity.  Finally curiosity won.  “How did you know, Ernest?” he asked.

“On the way to the station I met Dory Hargrave looking like a sunrise.  I asked him what was up—­you know, he and I are like brothers.  And he said:  ‘I’ve induced Adelaide Ranger to promise to marry me.’  ’Why, I never knew you cared about her in that way,’ said I. And he said:  ’There’s lots of things in this world you don’t know, Ernest, a lot of important things, and this is one of ’em.  I’ve never cared about anybody else.’”

Belden had been thinking that the engagement between Ross and Adelaide was dissolved by mutual consent.  A glance at Ross and he changed his mind; for, Ross was so amazed at Adelaide’s thus challenging him—­it could be nothing more than an audacious challenge—­that he showed it.  “I beg your pardon, old man,” Belden said impulsively.  “I didn’t appreciate that I was making a prying brute of myself.”

Ross decided that a “gentleman” would be silent under the suspicion of having been jilted, and that therefore he must be silent—­on that subject.  “Not at all,” said he.  “I suppose you haven’t heard yet that I’m engaged to Miss Howland, of Chicago.”

“Ah—­Really—­I congratulate you,” said Belden.

And Ross, seeing that his cousin understood precisely what he had intended he should, felt meaner than ever.

CHAPTER IX

THE LONG FAREWELL

Not until Adelaide told Arthur and saw the expression that succeeded his first blank stare of incredulity did she realize what the world, her “world,” would think of her engagement to Theodore Hargrave.  It was illuminative of her real character and of her real mind as to Ross, and as to Dory also, that, instead of being crushed by her brother’s look of downright horror, she straightway ejected the snobbish suggestions with which her vanity had been taunting her, and called her heart, as well as her pride, to the defense of Dory.

“You’re joking,” said Arthur, when he was able to articulate; “and a mighty poor joke it is.  Dory!  Why, Del, it’s ridiculous.  And in place of Ross Whitney!”

“Be careful what you say, Artie,” she warned in a quiet, ominous tone, with that in her eyes which should in prudence have halted him.  “I am engaged to Dory, remember.”

“Nonsense!” cried Arthur.  “Why, he hasn’t a cent, except his beggarly salary as professor at that little jay college.  And even if he should amount to something some day, he’ll never have anything or any standing in society.  I thought you had pride, Del.  Just wait till I see him!  I’ll let him know what I think of his impudence.  Of course, I don’t blame him.  Naturally, he wants to get up in the world.  But you—­” Arthur’s laugh was a sneer—­“And I thought you were proud!”