in from the night where the two had been alone together.  Age’s ugly resentment at being supplanted by youth was sufficiently provocative in this case where Britt ardently longed, and had promised himself what he desired; but to that provocation was added the stinging memory of the blow dealt that day by Youth’s hand across Age’s withered mouth; he licked the swollen lips with a rabid tongue.  He beheld the two young folks exchanging looks that gave to their simple words an import which roused all his fury.  Britt shook himself free from all restraint.  He had been assured by the Harndens that their home was his haven; he took advantage of that assurance and of the young man’s more dubious standing in the household.

Britt was holding to the paper-covered novel—­it was doubled in his ireful grip and its title showed plainly above his ridged hand—­a particularly infelicitous title it seemed to be under the circumstances, because Britt was shaking the book like a cudgel and his demeanor was that of a man who was clutching thorns instead of flowers.  He advanced on Frank and his voice made harsh clamor in the little room.  “You’d better not take on any more engagements for to-morrow, Vaniman.  You’ll be mighty busy with me, winding up our business together.”

“Very well, sir.  And suppose we leave off all matters between us until then!”

But Britt had started to run wild and was galloping under the whip of fury.  He had been doing some amazing things that day—­he had written verse, he had blubbered foolishly with a girl looking on, and he had horsewhipped his twin brother before the eyes of the populace—­but what he did next was more amazing than all the rest.  Having sourly admitted to himself that he was a coward when he was alone with the girl, he took advantage of this moment when his choleric desperation gave him fictitious courage.  He slashed into the situation with what weapons he had at hand—­and he held a reserve weapon, so he thought, in the big wallet that thrust its bulk reassuringly against his breast.  “This thing seems to have come to a climax; and it ain’t through any fault of mine.  I’ve never yet been afraid to talk for myself, in a climax, and I ain’t afraid now.  The time to do business is when you’ve got your interested parties assembled—­and the five folks in this room—­the whole five—­may not be collected together again,” he stated, with vengeful significance, looking hard at Vaniman.  Then he whirled on the girl.  “Vona, I want to marry you.  You know it.  Your folks know it.  It’s all understood, even if it hasn’t been put into words.  I’ll give you everything that money will buy.  When you get me you know what you’re getting.  I put the question to you right here and now, before your home folks, and that shows you what kind of a square man I am.  I don’t sneak in dark corners.”  He accused her escort with a glowering side-glance.

Mrs. Harnden simpered.

Vona had never found her mother an especially stable support in times of stress, but the girl did feel that the maternal spirit might arise and help in an emergency as vital as that one!  Mrs. Harnden, however, was gazing into the arena and was blandly indicating by her demeanor, “Thumbs down!”