“It is not necessary to remind me.  My mother knows it and will stand by her.  Will you do less for your own brother?”

“Louis!  You are cruel, selfish, utterly heartless—­”

“I am trying to think of everybody in the family who is concerned; but, when a man’s in love he can’t help thinking a little of the woman he loves—­especially if nobody else does.”  He turned his head and looked out of the window.  Stars were shining faintly in a luminous sky.  His face seemed to have grown old and gray and haggard: 

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, as though speaking to himself;—­“I don’t know where to turn.  She would marry me if you’d let her; she will never marry me if my family is unkind to her—­”

“What will she do, then?” asked Lily, coolly.

For a moment he let her words pass, then, turned around.  The expression of his sister’s brightly curious eyes perplexed him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, disturbed.

“What I say, Louis.  I asked you what Miss West means to do if she does not marry you?  Discontinue her indiscreet intimacy with you?”

“Why should she?”

Lily said, sharply:  “I would not have to put that question to a modest girl.”

“I have to put it to you!” he retorted, beginning to lose his self-command.  “Why should Valerie West discontinue her friendship with me because my family’s stupid attitude toward her makes it impossible for a generous and proud girl to marry me?”

Lily, pale, infuriated, leaned forward in her chair.

“Because,” she retorted violently, “if that intimacy continues much longer a stupid world and your stupid family will believe that the girl is your mistress!  But in that event, thank God, the infamy will rest where it belongs—­not on us!”

A cold rage paralysed his speech; she saw its ghastly reflection on his white and haggard face—­saw him quiver under the shock; rose involuntarily, terrified at the lengths to which passion had scourged her: 

“Louis,” she faltered—­“I—­I didn’t mean that!—­I was beside myself; forgive me, please!  Don’t look like that; you are frightening me—­”

She caught his arm as he passed her, clung to it, pallid, fearful, imploring,—­“W-what are you going to do, Louis!  Don’t go, dear, please.  I’m sorry, I’m very, very humble.  Won’t you speak to me?  I said too much; I was wrong;—­I—­I will try to be different—­try to reconcile myself to—­to what—­you—­wish—­”

He looked down at her where she hung to him, tearful face lifted to his: 

“I didn’t know women could feel that way about another woman,” he said, in a dull voice.  “There’s no use—­no use—­”

“But—­but I love you dearly, Louis!  I couldn’t endure it to have anything come between us—­disrupt the family—­”

“Nothing will, Lily....  I must go now.”

“Don’t you believe I love you?”

He drew a deep, unconscious breath.