Chisholm straightened himself in his chair in fiery indignation, which he made no attempt to conceal.
"You mean that after asking my consent, and seeing more of Evelyn, you have changed your mind! Can't you understand that it's an unpardonable confession—one which I never fancied a man born and brought up in your station could have brought himself to make?"
Vane looked at him with an impassive face.
"It strikes me as largely a question of terms—I may not have used the right one. Now that you know how the matter stands, you can describe it in any way that sounds nicest. In regard to your other remark, I've been in a good many stations, and I must admit that until lately none of them were likely to promote much delicacy of sentiment."
"So it seems!" Chisholm was almost too hot to sneer. "But can't you realize how your action reflects upon my daughter?"
Vane held himself in hand. He had only one object: to divert Chisholm's wrath from Evelyn to himself, and he fancied that he was succeeding in this. For the rest, he was conscious of a strong resentment against the man. Evelyn had told him that he had started handicapped.
"It can't reflect upon her unless you talk about it, and both you and Mrs. Chisholm have sense enough to refrain from doing that," he answered dryly. "I can't flatter myself that Evelyn will grieve over me." Then his manner changed. "Now we'll get down to business. I don't purpose to call in that loan, which will, no doubt, be a relief to you."
He rose leisurely and strolled out of the room.
Shortly afterward he met Carroll in the hall, and the latter glanced at him sharply.
"What have you been doing?" he inquired. "There's a look in your eyes I seem to remember."