“Is that Dane Barrington?” asked Valerie, knowing that it was.
“Yes,” Bob answered.
“Have you met him?”
“I’ve been introduced to him.”
“It’s funny you never told me he was here.”
“He isn’t here. He lives out somewhere. Comes to the pub occasionally to gamble and drink.”
Her eyes flashed. “Dear charitable old Bob, so sweet and wholesome?” she sneered.
Bob got red.
“Now, children,” said Father Ryan, spreading out his peaceful hands. “Mr. Barrington would tell you that no man was worth that remark.”
“Do you know him, Father?” she asked.
“I don’t think anybody knows him.”
“But you don’t judge him by what is said of him?”
“I’ve nothing to do with judging him.”
Valerie shot her eyes significantly intensified at Bob.
He got up to go.
“I’m going to have another cup of coffee,” she said. “Oh, you needn’t stay, Bob. Are you going off to the Bentons right away?”
“Yes, I am.”
“All right. Good-night. You’ll be back Monday morning?”
“Yes.” Bob strode out of the dining-room annoyed with himself for being angry about nothing.
Father Ryan made a move to rise.
“Oh, stay and talk to me,” said Valerie, beckoning to Lizzie. “I’ll have another cup of coffee, please. It’s just silly,” she went on as the girl moved away, “that one man should judge another on hearsay.”
