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In a way she would be true to him always, but the world did not
know her as he did, and he knew perfectly well how she was talked about
and her frivolous conduct commented upon by such people as Lady Jane and
her set. But he could not help himself. Daisy was master, and he
submitted, with a feeling of humiliation which showed itself upon his
face and made him very quiet and ill at ease, except when Bessie was
with him. There was something about Bessie which restored his
self-respect and made a man of him, Bessie was his all, and to himself
he had made a vow that she should not follow in the footsteps of her
mother.
"I will kill her first," he said, with clenched fists and flashing eyes,
and Daisy would never have known him could she have seen him when, as
was often the case, he went over by himself what he would say to her if
he ever got his courage up.
Taking a chair for his auditor, he would gesticulate fiercely, and
declare that he would not stand it any longer. "Daisy McPherson," he
would say, addressing himself to the chair, "I tell you what it is.


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