licitly in you, deeply, deeply
sensible of your goodness and sweetness and loyalty to her. I am not a
woman; I was a fool to say so. But you--you are so overwhelmingly a man
that if it were in me to love--in that way--it would be you! . . . Do
you understand me? Or have I lost a friend? Will you forgive my foolish
boast? Can you still keep me first in your heart--as you are in mine?
And pardon in me all that I am not? Can you do these things because I
ask you?"

"Yes," he said.

CHAPTER IX

A NOVICE

Gerald came to Silverside two or three times during the early summer,
arriving usually on Friday and remaining until the following Monday
morning.

All his youthful admiration and friendship for Selwyn had returned; that
was plainly evident--and with it something less of callow
self-sufficiency. He did not appear to be as cock-sure of himself and
the world as he had been; there was less bumptiousness about him, less
aggressive complacency. Somewhere and somehow somebody or something had
come into collision with him; but who or what this had been he did not
offer to confide in Selwyn; and the older man, dreading to disturb the
existing accord between them, forbore to question him or invite, even
indirectly, any confidence not offered.

Selwyn had slowly become conscious of this change in Gerald. In the
boy's manner toward others there seemed to be hints of that seriousness
which maturity or the first pressure of responsibility brings, even to
the more thoughtless. Plainly enough some experience, not wholly
agreeable, was teaching him the elements of consideration for others; he
was less impulsive, more tolerant; yet, at times, Selwyn and Eileen also
noticed that he became very restless toward the end of his visits at
Silverside; as though something in the city awaited him--some duty, or
responsibility not entirely pleasant.

There was, too, something of soberness, amounting, at moments, to
discontented listlessness--not solitary brooding; for at such moments he
stuck to Selwyn, following him about and remaining rather close to him,
as though the elder man's mere presence was a comfort--even a
protection.

At such intervals Selwyn longed to invite the boy's confidence, knowing
that he had some phase of life to face for which his experience was
evidently inadequate. But Gerald gave no sign of invitation; and Selwyn
dared not speak lest he undo what time and his forbearance were slowly
repairing.

So their