"I'll give you a thousand pounds for it," said Eugene.

"What would you do with it?"

"Burn it."

"Then you shouldn't have it for ten thousand."

"I thought you'd say that. But he mustn't see it."

"Why, Lane, you're as bad as a child. It's a man in love, that's all."

"If he saw it," said Eugene, "he'd hang himself."

"Oh, gently!" said Ayre. "If you ask me, I expect Stafford will pretty
soon get beyond any surprise at the revelation. He must walk his path,
like all of us. It can't matter to you, you know," he added, with a
sharp glance.

"No, it can't matter to me," said Eugene steadily.

"Put it away, Morewood, and come out of doors. Perhaps you'd better not
leave it about, at present at any rate."

Morewood took down the picture and placed it in a large portfolio, which
he locked, and accompanied Ayre. Eugene made no motion to come with
them, and they left him sitting there.

"The atmosphere," said Sir Roderick, looking up into the clear summer
sky, "is getting thundery and complicated. I hate complications!