No, his sister was mistaken; but her mistake must not disturb the blossoming of this unstained flower.  Sufficient that Eileen and he disdainfully ignore the trite interpretation those outside might offer them unasked; sufficient that their confidence in one another remain without motive other than the happiness of unembarrassed people who find a pleasure in sharing an intelligent curiosity concerning men and things and the world about them.

Thinking of these matters, lying back there in his desk chair, he suddenly remembered that Gerald had come in.  They had scarcely seen one another since that unhappy meeting in the Stuyvesant Club; and now, remembering what he had written to Eileen, he emerged with a start from his contented dreaming, sobered by the prospect of seeking Gerald.

For a moment or two he hesitated; but he had said in his letter that he was going to do it; and now he rose, looked around for his pipe, found it, filled and lighted it, and, throwing on his dressing-gown, went out into the corridor, tying the tasselled cords around his waist as he walked.

His first knock remaining unanswered, he knocked more sharply.  Then he heard from within the muffled creak of a bed, heavy steps across the floor.  The door opened with a jerk; Gerald stood there, eyes swollen, hair in disorder, his collar crushed, and the white evening tie unknotted and dangling over his soiled shirt-front.

“Hello,” said Selwyn simply; “may I come in?”

The boy passed his hand across his eyes as though confused by the light; then he turned and walked back toward the bed, still rubbing his eyes, and sat down on the edge.

Selwyn closed the door and seated himself, apparently not noticing Gerald’s dishevelment.

“Thought I’d drop in for a good-night pipe,” he said quietly.  “By the way, Gerald, I’m going down to Silverside next week.  Nina has asked Boots, too.  Couldn’t you fix it to come along with us?”

“I don’t know,” said the boy in a low voice; “I’d like to.”

“Good business!  That will be fine!  What you and I need is a good stiff tramp across the moors, or a gallop, if you like.  It’s great for mental cobwebs, and my brain is disgracefully unswept.  By the way, somebody said that you’d joined the Siowitha Club.”

“Yes,” said the boy listlessly.

“Well, you’ll get some lively trout fishing there now.  It’s only thirty miles from Silverside, you know—­you can run over in the motor very easily.”

Gerald nodded, sitting silent, his handsome head supported in both hands, his eyes on the floor.

That something was very wrong with him appeared plainly enough; but Selwyn, touched to the heart and miserably apprehensive, dared not question him, unasked.

And so they sat there for a while, Selwyn making what conversation he could; and at length Gerald turned and dragged himself across the bed, dropping his head back on the disordered pillows.