which could not be explained in other and likelier ways. He may have got
entangled, for instance, with some woman in London."

Mr. Wedmore took fire at this suggestion.

"In that case, the sooner Doreen forgets all about him the better."

"Mind, I'm only suggesting!" put in the doctor, hastily. "There may be a
dozen more reasons--"

"I shall not wait to find them out," said Mr. Wedmore, decisively. "He
and Max are coming down together this evening. My wife would have them
to help in organizing some affair they're getting up for Christmas. I'll
send him to the right-about without any more nonsense."

"But surely that is hardly--"

"Hardly what?" snapped out Mr. Wedmore, as he poked the fire viciously.

"Well, hardly fair to either of the young people. Put a few questions to
him yourself, or better still, let your wife do it. It may be only a
storm in a teacup, after all. Remember, he is the son of your old
friend. And you wouldn't like to have it on your conscience that you had
treated him harshly."

The doctor's advice was sane and sound enough, but Mr. Wedmore was not
in the mood to listen to it. That notion of an entanglement with another
woman rankled in his proud mind, and made him still less inclined to be
patient and forbearing.