The authorities at Aschaffenburg requested Herr Harrison to remove his son Michael from the School of Forestry.  Michael after his first few weeks had done no good at the school.  In view of the expense to Herr Harrison involved in his fees and maintenance, they could not honestly advise his entering upon another term.  It would only be a deplorable throwing away of money on a useless scheme.  His son Michael had no thoroughness, no practical ability, and no grasp whatever of theoretic detail.  From Herr Harrison’s point of view this was the more regrettable inasmuch as the young man had colossal decision and persistence and energy of his own.  He was an indefatigable dreamer.  Very likely—­when his dreams had crystallized—­a poet.  But the idea Herr Harrison had had that his son Michael would make a man of business, or an expert in Forestry, was altogether fantastic and absurd.  And from the desperate involutions of the final sentence Dorothy disentangled the clear fact that Michael’s personal charm, combined with his hostility to discipline, his complete indifference to the aims of the authorities, and his utter lack of any sense of responsibility, made him a dangerous influence in any school.

That was the end of Anthony’s plans for Michael.

The next morning Nicky wired from some village in Sussex:  “Married yesterday.—­NICKY.”

After that nothing seemed to matter.  With Nicky gone from them they were glad to have Michael back again.  Frances said they might be thankful for one thing—­that there wasn’t any German Peggy or any German Desmond in Michael’s problem.

And since both Michael and Veronica were to be removed at once, the simplest arrangement was that he should return to Dresden and bring her back with him.

Frances had never been afraid for Michael.

Michael knew that he had made havoc of his father’s plans.  He couldn’t help that.  His affair was far too desperate.  And any other man but his father would have foreseen that the havoc was inevitable and would have made no plans.  He knew he had been turned into the tree-travelling scheme that had been meant for Nicky, because, though Nicky had slipped out of it, his father simply couldn’t bear to give up his idea.  And no wonder, when the dear old thing had so few of them.

He had been honest with his father about it; every bit as honest as Nicky had been.  He had wanted to travel if he could go to China and Japan, just as Nicky had wanted to travel if he could go to places like the West Indies and the Himalaya.  And he didn’t mind trying to get the trees in when he was there.  He was even prepared to accept Germany and the School for Forestry if Germany was the only way to China and Japan.  But he had told his father not to mind if nothing came of it at the end of all the travelling.  And his father had said he would take the risk.  He preferred taking the risk to giving up his idea.