llow, a large smiling silent young man with an intense and serious
desire to miss nothing attainable by one of his fortune and standing.
What use he made of his experiences, Lansing, who had always gone into
his own modest adventures rather thoroughly, had never been able to
guess; but he had always suspected the prodigal Fred of being no more
than a well-disguised looker-on. Now for the first time he began to view
him with another eye. The Gillows were, in fact, the one uneasy point in
Nick's conscience. He and Susy from the first, had talked of them less
than of any other members of their group: they had tacitly avoided the
name from the day on which Susy had come to Lansing's lodgings to say
that Ursula Gillow had asked her to renounce him, till that other day,
just before their marriage, when she had met him with the rapturous cry:
"Here's our first wedding present! Such a thumping big cheque from Fred
and Ursula!"

Plenty of sympathizing people were ready, Lansing knew, to tell him just
what had happened in the interval between those two dates; but he had
taken care not to ask. He had even affected an initiation so complete
that the friends who burned to enlighten him were discouraged by his so
obviously knowing more than they; and gradually he had worked himself
around to their view, and had taken it for granted that he really did.

Now he perceived that he knew nothing at all, and that the "Hullo, old
Fred!" with which Susy hailed Gillow's arrival might be either the usual
tribal welcome--since they were all "old," and all nicknamed, in their
private jargon--or a greeting that concealed inscrutable depths of
complicity.

Susy was visibly glad to see Gillow; but she was glad of everything just
then, and so glad to show her gladness! The fact disarmed her husband
and made him ashamed of his uneasiness. "You ought to have thought this
all out sooner, or else you ought to chuck thinking of it at all,"
was the sound but ineffectual advice he gave himself on the day after
Gillow's arrival; and immediately set to work to rethink the whole
matter.

Fred Gillow showed no consciousness of disturbing any one's peace of
mind. Day after day he sprawled for hours on the Lido sands, his arms
folded under his head, listening to Streffy's nonsense and watching Susy
between sleepy lids; but he betrayed no desire to see her alone, or
to draw her into talk apart from the others. More than ever he seemed
content to be the gratifi