“He is so young.  At twenty-three life isn’t taken very seriously by boys of Harrie’s nature.  He’ll come to himself after a while.”  I was fumbling for words.  “When his money is entirely gone he’ll tire of his—­his way of living and behave himself.”

“The lack of money doesn’t disturb him.  I bought his interest in the house for fear he’d sell it to some one else.  He’s pretty nearly gotten through with that, as with other things he inherited.  How in the name of Heaven my father’s son—­” Selwyn came over to the sofa and sat down.  “I didn’t mean to speak of this, however; of his past behavior.  It’s concerning his latest adventure that I want your help, want you to tell me what to do.”

“Why don’t you smoke?  Haven’t you a cigar?” I reached for a box of matches behind me.  “Begin at the beginning and tell me everything.”

Selwyn lighted his cigar and for a while smoked in silence.  In his face were deep lines that aged it strangely and for the first time I noticed graying hair about his temples.  Suddenly something clutched my heart queerly, something that cleared unnaming darkness, and understanding was upon me.  Unsteadily my hand went out toward him.

“There is nothing you cannot ask me to do, Selwyn.  There is nothing I would not do to help you.”

He lifted my hand to his lips.  “There is no one but you I would talk to of this.  You will not misunderstand.  If I could not come to you—­”

I drew my hand away.  “That’s what a woman is for, to—­to stand by when a man needs her.”  My words came stammeringly.  “I heard Harrie was away.  Where is he and why did he go?”

“He’s in Texas.  He went, I think, because of a mix-up with a girl here he had no business knowing.  There was a row, I believe.”  Selwyn frowned, flicked the ashes from his cigar with impatient movement.  “There’s no use going into that.  I’m not excusing him; there’s no excuse, but so far as that’s concerned there’s nothing to be done, so far as I can see.  He got involved with this girl, a little cashier at some restaurant downtown who thought he was going to marry her.  I knew nothing about this until a few weeks ago.  When I heard it, I went to see the girl.”

The tension of past weeks, not yet entirely unrelaxed, snapped with such swiftness that I seemed suffocating, and, lest he hear the sob in my throat, I got up and went over to the window and opened it a little.  “Was she—­” I made effort to speak steadily.  “Was she the girl who was brought in here?  The girl you were with some three weeks ago?”

Selwyn, who had gotten up as I came back to the sofa, again sat down.  “Yes.  She was the girl.”  His voice was indifferently even.  He had obviously no suspicion of my unworthy wondering, had forgotten, indeed, his indignation at the question I had asked him after seeing him with her.  Other things more compelling had evidently crowded it from memory.