Avery felt ashamed to explain, but he began as if speaking to Gertrude and ended with a look of challenge at the two men facing him. "I chanced to meet Miss King in the street and as both of us stood in need of advice from you," he was trying to smile unconcernedly, "we came up the avenue together."
There was a distinct look of displeasure and disapproval upon Mr. Foster's face, while John Martin took scant pains to conceal his disgust. He, also, had heard, and repeated, the club gossip to Gertrude's father.
"If good advice is what you want particularly," said Mr. Foster, slowly, "I don't know but that I might accommodate you. I hardly think Gertrude is in a position to—to—"
The bell rang sharply and in an instant the little cash girl from the store rushed in gasping for breath.
"Come quick! quick! Ettie is killed! She fell down stairs and then—oh, something awful happened! I don't know what it was. The doctor is there. He sent me here, 'cause Ettie cried and called for you!" She was looking at Gertrude, who started toward the door.
"Go back and tell the doctor that Miss Foster cannot come," said her father, rising.
"Certainly not, I should hope," remarked John Martin under his breath; "the most preposterous idea!" Gertrude paused. She was looking at her father with appeal in her face. Then her eyes fell upon the tense lips and piercing gaze of Francis King who, half way to the street door, had turned and was looking first from one to the other.
"Papa," said Gertrude, "don't say that. I must go. It is right that I should, and I must." Then with outstretched hands, "I want to go, papa! I need to. Don't—"
"You will do nothing of the kind, Gertrude. It is outrageous. What business have you got with that kind of girls? I asked you to stop having them come here, and I told you to let them alone. I am perfectly disgusted with Avery, here, for—" He had thought Francis was gone. The drapery where she had turned to hear what Gertrude would say hid her from him. "With that kind of girls!" was ringing in her ears. "I hope when you are married that is not the sort of society he is going to surround you with. It—" Avery saw for the first time what the trouble was. He stepped quickly to Gertrude's side and slipped one arm about her. Then he took the hand she still held toward her father.
"My wife shall have her own choice. She is as capable as I to choose. I shall not interfere. She shall not find me a master, but a comrade. Gertrude is her own judge and my adviser. That is all I ask, and it is all I assume for myself as her husband—when that time comes," he added, with her hand to his lips.