argument, he placed the sweet trophy over that heart which held the
picture of the girl; once there, the boot-heel showed bulgingly foolish
through his coat.

Richard returned to the mother and daughter; the latter had regained her
poise. He introduced himself: "Mr. Richard Storms." The mother gave him
her card: "Mrs. John Harley." She added:

"My name is Hanway-Harley, and this is my daughter, Dorothy Harley.
Hanway is my own family name; I always use it." Then she thanked Richard
for his saving interference in her child's destinies. "Just to think!"
she concluded, and a curdling horror gathered in her tones. "Dorothy,
you might have broken your nose!"

Richard ran a glance over Mrs. Hanway-Harley. She was not coarse, but
was superficial--a woman of inferior ideals. He marveled how a being so
fine as the daughter could have had a no more silken source, and hugged
the boot-heel. The daughter was a flower, the mother a weed. He decided
that the superiority of Dorothy was due to the father, and gave that
absent gentleman a world of credit without waiting to make his
acquaintance.

Mrs. Hanway-Harley said that she lived in Washington. Where did Mr.
Storms live?

"My home has been nowhere for ten years," returned Richard. Then, as he
looked at Dorothy, while his heart took a firmer grip on the picture:
"But I shall live in Washington in a few months."

Dorothy, the saved, beneath whose boot-heel beat Richard's heart, looked