Park that morning. It was amusing; but men do not speak of such things
at their clubs, no matter how amusing. Besides, if the story were aired
and were traced to him, Ruthven might turn ugly. There was no counting
on Ruthven.

Meanwhile Selwyn, perplexed and worried, found young Erroll just
entering the visitors' room, and greeted him with nervous cordiality.

"If you can't stay and dine with me," he said, "I won't put you down.
You know, of course, I can only ask you once in a year, so we'll stay
here and chat a bit."

"Right you are," said young Erroll, flinging off his very new and very
fashionable overcoat--a wonderfully handsome boy, with all the
attraction that a quick, warm, impulsive manner carries. "And I say,
Selwyn, it was awfully decent of you to--"

"Bosh! Friends are for that sort of thing, Gerald. Sit here--" He looked
at the young man hesitatingly; but Gerald calmly took the matter out of
his jurisdiction by nodding his order to the club attendant.

"Lord, but I'm tired," he said, sinking back into a big arm-chair; "I
was up till daylight, and then I had to be in the office by nine, and
to-night Billy Fleetwood is giving--oh, something or other. By the way,
the market isn't doing a thing to the shorts! You're not in, are you,
Selwyn?"

"No, not that way. I hope you are not, either; are you, Gerald?"

"Oh, it's all right," replied the young fellow confidently; and raising