iv

"And now," continued Gaythorpe, towards the end of their conversation, "to revert to your unattractive correspondent."

Edgar gave a short laugh. He turned upon his friend in rebuke.

"He's never been far away from your thoughts. I've felt him there the whole evening. You have two or three facts—that he's antipathetic to me, that he's in a financial difficulty, and that he's written me a letter. That ought to be enough for you."

"Financial difficulty. H'm ... yes...." Gaythorpe reflected. "He wants a loan, presumably. A substantial loan?"

"No, he doesn't want a loan."

"Advice." Gaythorpe was inquisitively silent. "I'm interested in him, you know."

"You're worse. You're inquisitive." Both smiled with a kind of determination. Gaythorpe grunted, conning afresh the points of his information.

"As you know," he presently resumed, "my interest is largely in you. It's by way of being paternal. Before this evening I should have said that you were a bit on the hard side. But there's nothing a sentimental idealist might not do; and I see now that you're a sentimental idealist. I'm filled with fear. I see you Quixotically ruining your family for the sake of self-mortification. You want to help this man because you dislike him. I tell you what's the matter with you, Edgar. Your particular kind of egotism leads you to make a fetish of magnanimity."

"Oh!" laughed Edgar.

"It isn't cowardice. It's indifference. The only thing that will save you is to fall deeply in love with Miss Fly-away. She will tempt you to imprudence, perhaps; but she will vitalise you, and harden you."

"If you remember, she was to marry me only when she was reformed," parried Edgar. "You seem to have forgotten that."

"On the contrary, you misjudge me. Any man, marrying the most reformed character, will find that he has domesticated a tigress," replied Gaythorpe. "Marriage is an illuminating experiment. And now to revert to your unsympathetic correspondent...."