He excused these weaknesses on the ground that when he had returned to Boston, and got back to his ordinary round of work and exercise, they would vanish, without having to be overcome; and yet the nearer he drew to his old home, the less impulse he felt for exertion.  He found himself asking the question, “Why should I try to make more money when I’ve got enough already?” to which the only reply was in that vague hope of “doing a little good,” inspired by his visit to the scene of his parents’ work at Hankow.  In this direction, however, his aptitudes were no more spontaneous than they were for the life of cultivated taste.  Henry Guion’s need struck him, therefore, as an opportunity.  If he took other views of it besides, if it made to him an appeal totally different from the altruistic, he was able to conceal the fact—­from himself, at any rate—­in the depths of a soul where much that was vital to the man was always held in subliminal darkness.  It disturbed him, then, to have Drusilla Fane rifle this sanctuary with irreverent persistency, dragging to light what he had kept scrupulously hidden away.

Having found her alone in the drawing-room drinking her tea, he told her at once what he had accomplished in the way of averting the worst phase of the danger hanging over the master of Tory Hill.  He told her, too, with some amount of elation, which he explained as his glee in getting himself down to “hard-pan.”  Drusilla allowed the explanation to pass till she had thanked him ecstatically for what he had done.

“Really, Peter, men are fine!  The minute I heard Cousin Henry’s wretched story I knew the worst couldn’t come to the worst, with you here.  I only wish you could realize what it means to have a big, strong man like you to lean on.”

Davenant looked pleased; he was in the mood to be pleased with anything.  He had had so little of women’s appreciation in his life that Drusilla’s enthusiasm was not only agreeable but new.  He noticed, too, that in speaking Drusilla herself was at her best.  She had never been pretty.  Her mouth was too large, her cheek-bones too high, and her skin too sallow for that; but she had the charm of frankness and intelligence.

Davenant said what was necessary in depreciation of his act, going on to explain the benefit he would reap by being obliged to go to work again.  He enlarged on his plans for taking his old rooms and his old office, and informed her that he knew a fellow, an old pal, who had already let him into a good thing in the way of a copper-mine in the region of Lake Superior.  Drusilla listened with interest till she found an opportunity to say: 

“I’m so glad that is your reason for helping Cousin Henry, Peter; because I was afraid there might be—­another.”

He stopped abruptly, looking dashed.  Unaccustomed to light methods of attack and defense, it took him a few seconds to see Drusilla’s move.

“You thought I might be—­in love?”