“We are,” Wint said good-naturedly. “But that doesn’t prevent our being political enemies. He’s had some break with Amos. Come in, dad. I want you to hear—”
But the older man heard it first from Mrs. Chase. She came across the room to meet them, pouring it out indignantly. “And Wint wants me to keep her,” she concluded. “Wants me to keep that girl in the house after this. I told him—”
Chase asked: “What’s that? Wint, what is this? Hetty—in trouble?”
“Yes, sir,” said Wint. “I found it out to-night; and I promised her we’d stand by her. Help her.”
Chase demanded sharply: “What right had you to commit us? If she chooses to destroy herself, how does that concern us? I’m surprised at you, Wint. It’s impossible.”
Wint said, in a steady voice: “She needs friends badly. She hasn’t any one to turn to. And Hetty’s a good sort, underneath. I told her—”
“Why doesn’t she turn to the man?” Chase interjected. “He’s the one that ought to—”
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t thought of him,” said Wint. “But if he were likely to help her, it seems to me he would have taken a hand before this. Don’t you think so?”
“Don’t I think so?” Wint’s father was outraged and angry. “I don’t think anything about it. It’s no concern of ours, so long as she packs herself out of here. Let her get out of her own mess.”
“I’m going to make it a concern of mine,” said Wint, his jaw stiffening. “I’m not going to see her turned adrift. I’m going to help her.”