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He had always held himself immaculate; he had come down to his
fellow-men, loving them, indeed, but feeling that they were of some other
clay than his own, and that through no especial virtue of his, but simply
because God has so wished it. And now he had stood, and a drunken wastrel
had cursed him and told him that he was detested by all men and that they
waited for his downfall.
It was those last words of Davray's that rang in his ears: "You're one of
us now. You're one of us." Drunkard and wastrel though the man was, those
words could not be forgotten, would never be forgotten again.
With his head up, his shoulders back, he returned to his house.
The maid met him in the hall. "There's a man waiting for you in the study,
sir."
"Who is it?"
"Mr. Samuel Hogg, sir."
Brandon looked at the girl fixedly, but not unkindly.
"Why did you let him in, Gladys?"
"He wouldn't take no denial, sir. Mrs. Brandon was out and Miss Joan. He
said you were expecting him and 'e knew you'd soon be back."
"You should never let any one wait, Gladys, unless I have told you
beforehand.


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