Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. Smith had never seen anything like it. "Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not. They have no amenities, they scratch the mellow surface of things almost as if they did it on purpose; and Lady Palsworthy and Mrs.
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