Manor, and finding his old quarters at Sir
Roderick's swept and garnished, incontinently took up his abode there,
and proceeded to look round for some suitable occupation. When this
momentous but invisible event accomplished itself, Sir Roderick was
outwardly engaged in the innocent and aimless pursuit of knocking the
billiard balls about and listening absently to a discourse from Morewood
on the essential truths which he (Morewood) had grasped and presented
alone of modern artists. The theme was not exhilarating, and Sir
Roderick's tenant soon grew very tired of it; the presentment of truth,
indeed, essential or otherwise, not being a matter that concerned him.
But in the course of an inspection of Sir Roderick's consciousness, he
had come across something that appeared worth following up, and toward
it he proceeded to direct his entertainer's conversation.

"I say, Morewood," said Ayre, breaking in on the discourse, "do you
think it's fair to keep that fellow Stafford in the dark?"

"Is he in the dark?"

"It's a queer thing, but he is. I never knew a man who was in love
before without knowing it,--they say women are that way,--but then I
never met a 'Father' before."

"What do you propose, since you insist on gossiping?"

"It isn't gossip; it's Christian feeling. Some one ought to tell the
poor beggar."

"Perhaps you'd like to."

"I should, but it would seem like a liberty, and I never take liberties.
You do constantly, so you might as well take this one."

"I like that! Why, the man's a stranger! If he ought to be told at all,
Lane's the man to do it."

"Yes, but you see, Lane--"

"That's quite true; I forgot. But isn't he better left alone to get over
it?"

Sir Roderick, unprejudiced, might have conceded the point. But the
prompter intervened.

"What I'm thinking about is this: is it fair to her? I don't say she's
in love with him, but she admires him immensely. They're always
together, and--well, it's plain what's likely enough to happen. If it
does, what will be said? Who'll believe he did it unconsciously? And if
he breaks her heart, how is it better because he did it unconsciously?"

"You are unusually benevolent," said Morewood dryly.

"Hang it! a man has some feelings."

"You're a humbug, Ayre!"

"Never mind what I am. You won't tell him?"

"No."

"It would be a very interesting problem."

"It would."

"That vow of his is all nonsense, ain't it?"

"Utter nonsense!"

"Why shouldn'