He made no answer.
She tried to slip her hand under his forehead, and lift it.
"Nigel, what have you been doing?"
He snarled something at her, and she remembered the other awful occasion when she had seen her brother drunk.
"Leave him alone, and he'll come to himself," said Len. "It's natural for him to get drunk—he's the sort."
"Oh, no, he isn't!—Nigel, come upstairs with me, and let me put something cool on your head."
"Damn you!" growled the boy, "leave me alone."
"Oh, Nigel, don't hate me—I'm not blaming you—I think I know why you got drunk, and I——"
Her sentence was never finished. With a yell of fury he sprang to his feet, knocking over his chair, and seized her in a grip of iron.