e made a wry face. Any advances
from him she would wilfully misinterpret. And Ruthven? How on earth
could he bring himself to approach him?

And the problem therefore remained as it was; the only chance of any
solution apparently depending upon these friends of Gerald's, not one of
whom was a friend of Selwyn; indeed some among them were indifferent to
the verge of open enmity.

And yet he had promised Eileen to do what he could. What merit lay in
performing an easy obligation? What courage was required to keep a
promise easily kept? If he cared anything for her--if he really cared
for Gerald, he owed them more than effortless fulfilment. And here there
could be no fulfilment without effort, without the discarding from self
of the last rags of pride. And even then, what hope was there--after the
sacrifice of self and the disregard of almost certain humiliation?

It was horribly hard for him; there seemed to be no chance in sight. But
forlorn hope was slowly rousing the soldier in him--the grim, dogged,
desperate necessity of doing his duty to the full and of leaving
consequences to that Destiny, which some call by a name more reverent.

So first of all, when at length he had decided, he nerved himself to
strike straight at the centre; and within the hour he found Gerald at
the Stuyvesant Club.

The boy descended to the visitors' rooms, Selwyn's card in his hand and
distrust written on every feature. And at Selwyn's first frank and
friendly words he reddened to the temples and checked him.

"I won't listen," he said. "They--Austin and--and everybody have been
putting you up to this until I'm tired of it. Do they think I'm a baby?
Do they suppose I don't know enough to take care of myself? Are they
trying to make me ridiculous? I tell you they'd better let me alone. My
friends are my friends, and I won't listen to any criticism of them, and
that settles it."

"Gerald--"

"Oh, I know perfectly well that you dislike Neergard. I don't, and
that's the difference."

"I'm not speaking of Mr. Neergard, Gerald; I'm only trying to tell you
what this man Ruthven really is doing--"

"What do I care what he is doing!" cried Gerald angrily. "And, anyway,
it isn't likely I'd come to you to find out anything about Mrs.
Ruthven's second husband!"

Selwyn rose, very white and still. After a moment he drew a quiet
breath, his clinched hands relaxed, and he picked up his hat and gloves.

"They are my friends," muttered Gerald