The results of the ballot came as a great surprise to every man of them except the one who had turned the course. Questioning, no doubt, went round the room and there was a ripple of comment passing among the groups after the meeting was over and the members were going out. At the foot of the stairs one man met Stephen Kent and told him the result, which he had come over to learn. The disappointment in his face was intense as he took a few steps more, taking out his penknife to cut his cigar, and met Glenn Andrews.
“Look here, Andrews, what does this mean? They tell me I am blackballed.”
“They told you the truth,” he said, coolly.
“Well! that’s damned strange.” Kent’s answer had in it the sting of humiliation.
“If I knew the man who did it, I would thrash him within an inch of his life. The sneak!”
Glenn Andrews’ eyes were dilated and flashing.
“Stephen Kent, you don’t have to go very far to find him. I am the man.”
“You; and may I ask why?”
“Because your dishonorable conduct to Miss Powel proved to me that you are not a gentleman.”
He was fearless in speech and action. His exultant manliness made the other cower.