“It was neither.”

“Who was it, then?  Come, out with it.  I dare you to.  I’ll have him sued for slander.  I’ll—–­”

“It wasn’t a he.  It was a woman who ought to know at least as much about him as you do.”

“There’s no such woman, except his mother, and she worships the ground he walks on.  Thinks he’s a kind of up-to-date Saint George, and I’m hanged if she’s far wrong.  Why, since Peter was a boy he’s never cared that”—­and a yellow thumb and finger snapped for emphasis under Win’s eyes—­“for any woman till he got silly over you.”

The girl laughed a fierce little laugh.  “You tell me this?  You defend him to me?  Is that policy?”

Peter senior suddenly looked foolish.  He had straightened himself to glare at the upstart.  Now he collapsed again.

“No, it ain’t policy,” he confessed, “but I guess it’s human nature.  My blood ain’t quite dried up yet, and I can’t sit quiet while anybody blackguards my own flesh and bone.  You tell me who said these things about him!”

“I will not tell you.”

“Don’t you know I’m liable to have you discharged for impudence?”

“You can’t discharge me, for I’ve already discharged myself.  I’d rather starve than serve one more day at your horrid old Hands.”

“Horrid old Hands, eh?  I can keep you from getting a job in any other store.”

“I don’t want one.  I’ve had enough of stores.  I am not afraid of anything you can do, Mr. Rolls.  Though they do call you ‘Saint Peter’ behind your back—­meaning just the opposite—­you haven’t the keys of heaven.”

“You’re an impudent young hussy.”

“Perhaps.  But you deserve impudence.  You deserve worse, sir.  A moment ago I hated you.  I—­think I could have killed you.  But—­but now I can’t help admiring something big in you, that makes you defend your son in spite of yourself, when it was policy to let me loathe him.”

“‘Loathe’ is no word to use for my boy,” the old man caught her up again.  “I don’t want you to marry him, no!  But, whatever happens, I can’t have you or any one else doing him black injustice.”

“Then, ‘whatever happens,’ I’ll admit to you that never in the bottom of my heart did I believe those things.  I didn’t believe them to-day, but I—­you were so horrible—­I had to be horrible, too.  There!  The same motive that made you defend him against your own interest has made me confess that to you now.  But you needn’t be afraid.  I don’t think in any case I could have married him knowing how his—­his family would feel.  Still I might, if he’d tried to persuade me; I can’t be sure.  I might have been weak.  As it is, though—­after you’ve insulted me in this cruel way, I believe nothing would induce me to say yes if he asked me.  And he never has asked me.”

“Never has asked you?” echoed Peter senior, dumbfounded.

Some one had begun to knock at the door, but he did not hear.  Neither did Winifred.  Each was absorbed in the other.  Insensibly their tones in addressing each other were changed.  Some other ingredient had mysteriously mingled with their rage; or, poured upon its stormy surface, had calmed the waves.  They were enemies still, but the girl had found the man human; the man, because he was man, found himself yielding to her woman’s domination.