“Yes, you did,” said Ruth bitterly. “And I married Derek Kettering.”
“You wanted to,” said the millionaire sharply.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“And now,” said Van Aldin slowly, “you have been seeing him again—after all I told you. He has been in the house today. I met him outside, and couldn’t place him for the moment.”
Ruth Kettering had recovered her composure.
“I want to tell you one thing, Dad; you are wrong about Armand—the Comte de la Roche, I mean. Oh, I know there were several regrettable incidents in his youth—he has told me about them; but—well, he has cared for me always. It broke his heart when you parted us in Paris, and now—”
She was interrupted by the snort of indignation her father gave.
“So you fell for that stuff, did you? You, a daughter of mine! My God!”
He threw up his hands.
“That women can be such darned fools!”