The wastrel has done you harm enough." "You forget something," Helen rejoined in a strained, cold voice.

"The house is mine." She knew her mistake as she saw the change in Festing's look, and weakly turned her head.

When she looked back it was too late.

His hands were clenched and his gaze was fixed.
"I--I didn't quite mean that," she faltered.
"Anyhow, it's true," said Festing quietly.

"The farm is yours as well, and I admit you have no grounds for being satisfied with the way I've managed your property.