“She knows very well who he is.  She’s visited here several times.  If told of Harrie’s past dissipations, she’d soothe herself with the usual dope of boys being boys, and men being men, and bygones being bygones.”  Selwyn’s hands made gesture of disgust.  “It’s a plain case of damned fool.  She deserves what she’ll get if she lets her daughter marry Harrie.  But the daughter doesn’t.  Somebody ought to tell the child she mustn’t marry him.  If there was a father or brother the responsibility would be on them.  There’s neither.”

“But didn’t you tell Harrie—­that—­that—­”

“I did.  And the language I used was not learned in a kindergarten.  Among other things I told him was that if he—­ Oh, it’s no use going into that.  It’s easy to say what you’ll do, but it isn’t easy to show your brother up as—­as everything one’s brother shouldn’t be.”

For a moment or two Selwyn continued his restless walking up and down the room, in his face no masking of the pain and weariness of spirit that were possessing him.  To no one else would he speak so frankly of a family affair, and I wanted much to help him, but how?  What was it he wanted me to do?  I could not see where I came in to do anything.

“Is Harrie very much in love?” Such questioning was consciously silly, but something had to be said.  “Do you think he really loves the girl?”

“No, I don’t.  He says he does, of course, but he doesn’t love anything but himself.  Making love is a habit with him.  Our girls know how to take the sort of stuff he talks; rather expect it, but this little creature is obviously a literalist.  I imagine Harrie hardly remembers how it happened.  He probably was surprised to find himself engaged.  However, he’s determined to go through with it.  A million-dollar mother-in-law has a good deal in her favor.  But something is the matter with the boy.  He’s not himself.”

“Didn’t he go away about a year ago, and stay some time?  If he could begin all over—­”

“There’s nowhere under heaven I wouldn’t send him if he’d go with the purpose of beginning all over, but he won’t stay away.  About six months ago he went to South America and stayed four months.  Since he got home he’s been worse than ever—­reckless, defiant, and drinking heavily.  His health has gone and most of his money; practically all of it.  I don’t know what to do.  I want to do what is right.  Tell me what it is, Danny.”

My breath was drawn in shiveringly and the frightened face of the girl with the baby in her arms again seemed close to me.  Why was I so halting, so afraid to speak?  Usually I reached decisions quickly, but I couldn’t get rid of the girl’s eyes.  They seemed appealing for protection.  Until I knew more about her I must say nothing.  Mrs. Mundy must go to see her and then—­