Mauney’s astonishment was only less than his instinctive hatred of an action so basely material and selfish. When he learned the facts of William’s evening sojourn in the village he flushed and regarded his brother with eyes that the brother could read only too plainly.
“What’s the matter?” William blurted.
“With whom?” Mauney asked.
“You.”
“I’m feeling sorry.”
“What for?”
“For Evelyn Boyce, of course.”
William’s face colored quickly and the big veins of his neck stood out. He stood, stiffening his arms, then with a savage glare, he shook his fist at his brother.
“You better keep your mouth shut,” he fumed, “or I’ll shut it for you. What I do is my business, not yours.”