It is all my fault" Mercy's indignation at her reception was too great for her sense of courtesy.
"I don't think it was your fault at all, Mr.White," she exclaimed.
"Good-night," and she was out of sight before Stephen could think of a word to say.
Very slowly he walked back into the sitting-room.

He had seldom been so angry with his mother; but his countenance betrayed no sign of it, and he took his seat opposite her in silence.

Silence, absolute, unconquerable silence, was the armor which Stephen White wore.

It was like those invisible networks of fine chains worn next the skin, in which many men in the olden time passed unscathed through years of battles, and won the reputation of having charmed lives.

No one suspected the secret.