“Order!  Order!” boomed Folly, as she slammed the book.

Leighton shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s neither here nor there.  You’ll find before you get through with life what people with brains have known for several centuries.  The son that’s worth anything at all is never like his father.  Sons grow.”

“I don’t care anything about that,” said Folly, calmly.  “I’m going to have Lew because—­well, just because I want him.”

“And I say you ’re not.”

“So?” said Folly, her eyes narrowing.  Then she smiled and added, “There’s only one way you can stop me”

“How’s that?” said Leighton.

“By making me want somebody else more.”

Leighton looked at her keenly for a moment.

“I shall never do that,” he said.

“Somehow,” said Folly, still smiling, “you’ve made a fair start.  It isn’t you exactly.  It’s that you are just Lew—­the whole of Lew and a lot of things added.”

“You are blind,” said Leighton; “you don’t know the difference between addition and subtraction.  Anyway, even if I could do it, I wouldn’t.  I want to fight fair—­fair with Lew, fair with you, if you’re fair with me, and fair with myself.  But I want to fight, not play.  Will you lunch at our place to-morrow?”

“Let’s see.  To-morrow,” said Folly, tapping her lips to hide a tiny yawn.  “Well, we can’t fight unless we get together, can we?  Yes, I’ll come.”

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Immediately upon leaving Folly, Leighton called on Lady Derl, by appointment.  He had already been to Helene with his trouble over Lewis.  It was she that had told him to see Folly.  “In a case of even the simplest subtraction,” Helene had said, “you’ve got to know what you’re trying to subtract from.”

As usual, Leighton was shown into Helene’s intimate room.  He closed the door after him quickly.

“Helene,” he said, “where’s the key?”

“The key?  What key?”

“The key to this door.  I want to lock myself in here.”

“Poor frightened thing!” laughed Helene.  “Turn around and let me look at you.  Is your face scratched?”

Leighton pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.  He stared at each familiar object in the room as though he were trying to recall a truant mind.  Finally his eyes came around to Helene, and with a quick smile and the old toss of the head with which he was wont to throw off a mood, he brought himself back to the present.

“With time and patience,” he said, as he sat down, “anybody can get a grip on a personality, but a mighty impersonality is like the Deluge or—­or a steam-roller.  Do I look flattened out?”

“You do, rather, for you,” said Helene.  “Tell me about it from the beginning.”  And Leighton did.  It took him half an hour.  When he got through, she said, still smiling, “I’d like to meet this Folly person.”