“Granted, old chap.  But, Gerald, may I say one thing—­or perhaps two?”

“Go ahead!  Give it to me good and plenty!”

“It’s only this:  couldn’t you and I see one another a little oftener?  Don’t be afraid of me; I’m no wet blanket.  I’m not so very aged, either; I know something of the world—­I understand something of men.  I’m pretty good company, Gerald.  What do you say?”

“I say, sure!” cried the boy warmly.

“It’s a go, then.  And one thing more:  couldn’t you manage to come up to the house a little oftener?  Everybody misses you, of course; I think your sister is a trifle sensitive—­”

“I will!” said Gerald, blushing.  “Somehow I’ve had such a lot on hand—­all day at the office, and something on every evening.  I know perfectly well I’ve neglected Eily—­and everybody.  But the first moment I can find free—­”

Selwyn nodded.  “And last of all,” he said, “there’s something about my own affairs that I thought you might advise me on.”

Gerald, proud, enchanted, stood very straight; the older man continued gravely: 

“I’ve a little capital to invest—­not very much.  Suppose—­and this, I need not add, is in confidence between us—­suppose I suggested to Mr. Neergard—­”

“Oh,” cried young Erroll, delighted, “that is fine!  Neergard would be glad enough.  Why, we’ve got that Valleydale tract in shape now, and there are scores of schemes in the air—­scores of them—­important moves which may mean—­anything!” he ended, excitedly.

“Then you think it would be all right—­in case Neergard likes the idea?”

Gerald was enthusiastic.  After a while they shook hands, it being time to separate.  And for a long time Selwyn sat there alone in the visitors’ room, absent-eyed, facing the blazing fire of cannel coal.

How to be friends with this boy without openly playing the mentor; how to gain his confidence without appearing to seek it; how to influence him without alarming him!  No; there was no great harm in him yet; only the impulse of inconsiderate youth; only an enthusiastic capacity for pleasure.

One thing was imperative—­the boy must cut out his card-playing for stakes at once; and there was a way to accomplish that by impressing Gerald with the idea that to do anything behind Neergard’s back which he would not care to tell him about was a sort of treachery.

Who were these people, anyway, who would permit a boy of that age, and in a responsible position, to play for such stakes?  Who were they to encourage such—?

Selwyn’s tightening grasp on his chair suddenly relaxed; he sank back, staring at the brilliant coals.  He, too, had forgotten.

Now he remembered, in humiliation unspeakable, in bitterness past all belief.

Time sped, and he sat there, motionless; and gradually the bitterness became less perceptible as he drifted, intent on drifting, back through the exotic sorcery of dead years—­back into the sun again, where honour was bright and life was young—­where all the world awaited happy conquest—­where there was no curfew in the red evening glow; no end to day, because the golden light had turned to silver; but where the earliest hint of dawn was a challenge, and where every yellow star whispered “Awake!”