“Upon my word, Billy,” the girl said indignantly, “I don’t think you ought to talk like that even in fun.  You know perfectly well that Mr. Holland only insisted on going because he thought he was better able to bear the physical strain.”

“Physical strain!” exclaimed McVay colouring to the roots of his sandy hair, from pure annoyance; “I don’t know what you mean,...  Holland is, of course, a larger man than I, but not stronger....  Oh, well, as far as mere brute force goes, perhaps, but in the matter of bearing physical strain, you betray the most absurd ignorance.  It is well known scientifically that medium-sized men like myself, when their muscles are at all developed (and you know my muscles), are better fitted for endurance than any of these over-grown giants.”

“Then,” said she calmly, “if you knew you were better fitted I can’t see why you did not go.”

“You are not quite fair to your brother,” said Geoffrey interrupting, for McVay looked as if he would explode in another moment under the sense of injustice.  “He did propose going himself, but I would not let him; I—­I made it a personal matter.”

“Very personal,” replied McVay with feeling.  “I’ll just explain how it was.  Last night, as soon as I realised how bad the storm was, I made up my mind that I had better attempt to enter the house.  I succeeded after some trouble, came to this room, turned on the light—­a spooky thing; an empty house, picked up a book, had quite forgotten my position, the world, everything, when a voice at my elbow said:  ‘Fond of reading?’ I was never more surprised in my life.  I felt distinctly caught,—­an interloper.  And to make matters worse, I saw that Holland did not at once recognise me.  I made every effort to leave, but he would not hear of such a thing.  He made it perfectly plain in fact that it was his wish to keep me.  I yielded.  That, I think, Holland, is a pretty accurate account of the night’s proceeding, isn’t it?”

Geoffrey did not answer.  His soul rebelled at the farce, and at McVay’s irrepressible enjoyment of his own abilities.  As Holland met the twinkling joy of those small blue eyes, he wondered if he would not be doing mankind a favour by putting a bullet into McVay before the dawn of another day.  Unconscious of this possibility, McVay continued to his sister: 

“Well, it has all been a painful experience for you, my dear... a long and dangerous adventure for a woman, but you were at least warmly clad.  A handsome coat, is it not, Holland?”

“Very,” said Geoffrey chillingly.

“Now that coat,” McVay went on unchilled, “was a real bargain.  I may say I paid nothing for it,—­little more than the trouble of taking it home.  Although from another point of view, its price was pretty high....”

“Really, Billy, I don’t think Mr. Holland is interested in our bargains.”

“In some, he is.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Geoffrey, eyeing McVay with a warning glance, “I think I know of just about a dozen people who will want a circumstantial account of all of them.”