"As bad as they make 'em—" he went on, tranquilly.
"No, no, father. You mustn't say that."
"I can't help saying it, Thor. I know how you feel about Claude. You feel as I do myself. But you and I must take hold of him and save him. We must get rid of this girl—"
"But she's not bad, father—"
Masterman raised himself and leaned back in his chair. He saw that Thor was white, with curious black streaks and shadows in his long, gaunt face. "Oh, I know how you feel," he said, again. "It does seem monstrous that the thing should have happened to Claude; but, after all, he's young, and with a little tact we can pull him out. I've said nothing to your mother, and don't mean to. No use alarming her needlessly. I've not said anything to Claude, either. Only known the thing for four or five days. Don't want to make him restive, or drive him to take the bit between his teeth. High-spirited young fellow, Claude is. Needs to be dealt with tactfully. Thing will be, to cut away the ground beneath his feet without his knowing it—by getting rid of the girl."
"But I know Rosie Fay, father, and she's not—"
"Now, my dear Thor, what is a girl but bad when she's willing to meet a man clandestinely night after night—?"
"Oh, but she hasn't done it."
"And I tell you she has done it. Ever since last summer. Night after night."
"Where?" Thor demanded, hoarsely.