"The one we had all that fuss about years ago. You know who I mean well enough."
"You mean"—she hesitated—"you mean the Comte de la Roche?"
"Comte de la Roche!" snorted Van Aldin. "I told you at the time that the man was no better than a swindler. You had entangled yourself with him then very deeply, but I got you out of his clutches."
"Yes, you did," said Ruth bitterly. "And I married Derek Kettering."
"You wanted to," said the millionaire sharply.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"And now," said Van Aldin slowly, "you have been seeing him again—after all I told you. He has been in the house to-day. I met him outside, and couldn't place him for the moment."
Ruth Kettering had recovered her composure.
"I want to tell you one thing, Dad; you are wrong about Armand—the Comte de la Roche, I mean. Oh, I know there were several regrettable incidents in his youth—he has told me about them; but—well, he has cared for me always. It broke his heart when you parted us in Paris, and now—"
She was interrupted by the snort of indignation her father gave.