"Perhaps not. We will train our young friend's mind to cope with moral
problems. He'll never get on in the world nowadays unless he can do
that. It's now part of a gentleman's--still more of a
lady's--education."

Eugene was clearly wanted. By some agency, into which it is needless to
inquire, though we may have suspicions, at that moment Eugene strolled
into the billiard-room.

"We have a little question to submit to you, my dear fellow," said Ayre
blandly.

Eugene looked at him suspiciously. He had been a good deal worried the
last few days, and had a dim idea that he deserved it, which deprived
him of the sense of unmerited suffering--a most valuable consolation in
time of trouble.

"It's about Stafford. You remember the head of him Morewood did, and the
conclusion we drew from it--or, rather, it forced upon us?"

Eugene nodded, instinctively assuming his most nonchalant air.

"We think he's a bad case. What think you?"

"I agree--at least, I suppose I do. I haven't thought much about it."

Ayre thought the indifference overdone, but he took no notice of it.

"We are inclined to think he ought to be shown that picture. I am clear
about it; Morewood doubts. And we are going to refer it to you."