Miss Erroll passed out.

Selwyn took the note and broke the seal: 

“MY DEAR SELWYN:  I’m in a beastly fix—­an I.O.U. due to-night and pas de quoi!  Obviously I don’t want Neergard to know, being associated as I am with him in business.  As for Austin, he’s a peppery old boy, bless his heart, and I’m not very secure in his good graces at present.  Fact is I got into a rather stiff game last night—­and it’s a matter of honour.  So can you help me to tide it over?  I’ll square it on the first of the month.

     “Yours sincerely,

     “GERALD ERROLL.

     “P.S.—­I’ve meant to look you up for ever so long, and will the
     first moment I have free.”

Below this was pencilled the amount due; and Selwyn’s face grew very serious.

The letter he wrote in return ran: 

     “DEAR GERALD:  Check enclosed to your order.  By the way, can’t you
     lunch with me at the Lenox Club some day this week?  Write, wire, or
     telephone when.

     “Yours,

     “SELWYN.”

When he had sent the note away by the messenger he walked back to the bay-window, hands in his pockets, a worried expression in his gray eyes.  This sort of thing must not be repeated; the boy must halt in his tracks and face sharply the other way.  Besides, his own income was limited—­much too limited to admit of many more loans of that sort.

He ought to see Gerald at once, but somehow he could not in decency appear personally on the heels of his loan.  A certain interval must elapse between the loan and the lecture; in fact he didn’t see very well how he could admonish and instruct until the loan had been cancelled—­that is, until the first of the New Year.

Pacing the floor, disturbed, uncertain as to the course he should pursue, he looked up presently to see Miss Erroll descending the stairs, fresh and sweet in her radiant plumage.  As she caught his eye she waved a silvery chinchilla muff at him—­a marching salute—­and passed on, calling back to him:  “Don’t forget Gerald!”

“No,” he said, “I won’t forget Gerald.”  He stood a moment at the window watching the brougham below where Nina awaited Miss Erroll.  Then, abruptly, he turned back into the room and picked up the telephone receiver, muttering:  “This is no time to mince matters for the sake of appearances.”  And he called up Gerald at the offices of Neergard & Co.

“Is it you, Gerald?” he asked pleasantly.  “It’s all right about that matter; I’ve sent you a note by your messenger.  But I want to talk to you about another matter—­something concerning myself—­I want to ask your advice, in a way.  Can you be at the Lenox by six? . . .  You have an engagement at eight?  Oh, that’s all right; I won’t keep you. . . .  It’s understood, then; the Lenox at six. . . .  Good-bye.”

There was the usual early evening influx of men at the Lenox who dropped in for a glance at the ticker, or for a cocktail or a game of billiards or a bit of gossip before going home to dress.