"Taking her hospitality,—oh, it's a shame! a shame!"
"Peter must make it right with Electra," he ventured.
"Peter! He has tried. He has tried too much. Things are not right between them any more. I know that."
Osmond, almost with no conscious will, went back to what he had been thinking when she came in.
"Peter belongs to your Brotherhood—"
"Don't say mine. It is my father's." She spoke with an unguarded warmth.
"But you belong to it, too."
"I used to. I used to do everything my father told me to—but not now—not now!" She looked like a beautiful rebel, the color deepened in her cheeks, her eyes darkening.
Osmond could not question her, but he went back to his own puzzle.
"The trouble is—about Peter—his painting has taken a back seat. He talks about the Brotherhood—little else."