"But—but—come; why in God's name—will you throw yourself away on—on such a—you're joking—you—"
She motioned him to a chair. He obeyed like one in a trance.
"Now, Tom, be calm. When I was a baby I loved you, but that is long ago. Today, Tom, you're an insufferable cad and I—well, I'm too much like you to have two of us in the same family."
"But, Stillings!" he burst forth, almost in tears. "The snake—what is he?"
"Nearly as bad as you, I'll admit; but he has four thousand a year and sense enough to keep it. In truth, I need it; for, thanks to your political activity, my own position is gone."
"But he's a—a damned rascal!" Wounded self-conceit was now getting the upper hand.
She laughed.
"I think he is. But he's such an exceptional rascal; he appeals to me. You know, Tom, we're all more or less rascally—except one."
"Except who?" he asked quickly.
"Bles Alwyn."