“Well—­yes.  As a matter of fact, Neergard is going to be a very rich man some day; and Gerald might have—­But I am not displeased.  What appeals to me is the spectacle of the boy acting with conviction on his own initiative.  Whether or not he is making a mistake has nothing to do with the main thing, and that is that Gerald, for the first time in his rather colourless career, seems to have developed the rudiments of a backbone out of the tail which I saw so frequently either flourishing defiance at me or tucked sullenly between his hind legs.  I had quite a talk with him last night; he behaved very decently, and with a certain modesty which may, one day, develop into something approaching dignity.  We spoke of his own affairs—­in which, for the first time, he appeared to take an intelligent interest.  Besides that, he seemed willing enough to ask my judgment in several matters—­a radical departure from his cub days.”

“What are you going to do for him, dear?” asked his wife, rather bewildered at the unexpected news.  “Of course he must go into some sort of business again—­”

“Certainly.  And, to my astonishment, he actually came and solicited my advice.  I—­I was so amazed, Nina, that I could scarcely credit my own senses.  I managed to say that I’d think it over.  Of course he can, if he chooses, begin everything again and come in with me.  Or—­if I am satisfied that he has any ability—­he can set up some sort of a real-estate office on his own hook.  I could throw a certain amount of business in his way—­but it’s all in the air, yet.  I’ll see him Monday, and we’ll have another talk.  By gad!  Nina,” he added, with a flush of half-shy satisfaction on his ruddy face, “it’s—­it’s almost like having a grown-up son coming bothering me with his affairs; ah—­rather agreeable than otherwise.  There’s certainly something in that boy.  I—­perhaps I have been, at moments, a trifle impatient.  But I did not mean to be.  You know that, dear, don’t you?”

His wife looked up at her big husband in quiet amusement.  “Oh, yes!  I know a little about you,” she said, “and a little about Gerald, too.  He is only a masculine edition of Eileen—­the irresponsible freedom of life brought out all his faults at once, like a horrid rash; it’s due to the masculine notion of masculine education.  His sister’s education was essentially the contrary:  humours were eradicated before first symptoms became manifest.  The moral, mental, and physical drilling and schooling was undertaken and accepted without the slightest hope—­and later without the slightest desire—­for any relaxation of the rigour when she became of age and mistress of herself.  That’s the difference:  a boy looks forward to the moment when he can flourish his heels and wag his ears and bray; a girl has no such prospect.  Gerald has brayed; Eileen never will flourish her heels unless she becomes fashionable after marriage—­which isn’t very likely—­”

Nina hesitated, another idea intruding.