“Yes, right home; don't want to go anywhere else to-night. I say, old chap, you're a better and cleaner man than I am, but it ain't your fault. That woman ought to make a saint out of any man.”
“Man, you would say so if you knew her,” said Ranald, with a touch of impatience; “but then no one does know her. They certainly don't down in the Indian Lands, for they don't know what she's given up.”
“That's the beauty of it,” replied Harry; “she doesn't feel it that way. Given up? not she! She thinks she's got everything that's good!”
“Well,” said Ranald, thoughtfully, after a pause, “she knows, and she's right.”
When they came to Harry's door Ranald lingered just a moment. “Come in a minute,” said Harry.
“I don't know; I'm coming in to-morrow.”
“Oh, come along just now. Aunt Frank is in bed, but Maimie will be up,” said Harry, dragging him along to the door.
“No, I think not to-night.” While they were talking the door opened and Maimie appeared.
“Ranald,” she cried, in an eager voice, “I knew you would be at Kate's, and I was pretty sure you would come home with Harry. Aren't you coming in?”
“Where's Aunt Frank?” asked Harry.