Nothing of moment passed between them during the rest of the journey, but some time after they reached home Herbert turned to Sylvia, who was sitting near him, in the absence of his wife.

“You’re short of funds again?” he asked.

Sylvia explained her embarrassments, and Herbert looked thoughtful.

“So,” he said, “you have spent what George sent, as well as what I advanced you in anticipation of his next remittance.  This can’t go on, you know.”

“I’ll be very economical for the next few months,” Sylvia promised penitently.

“If you’re not, you’ll find very stern economy imperative during those that follow; but I’ll let you have a small check before I leave.”

Sylvia thanked him and they talked about other matters for a while.  Then he said carelessly: 

“There’s a favor you could do me.  It won’t cost you any trouble.  A young man is coming down here next week, and I want you to be as pleasant as you can and make him enjoy his visit.  I’m inclined to think he’ll appreciate any little attention you can show him.”

“The last’s a cheap compliment,” Sylvia rejoined.  “Aren’t you asking me to undertake your wife’s duty?”

Herbert smiled.

“Not altogether.  Muriel’s an excellent hostess; she will do her part, but I want you to assist her.  You have exceptional and rather dangerous gifts.”

“Don’t go too far,” Sylvia warned him.  “But I’d better understand the situation.  How long do you expect me to be amiable to the man?”

“Only for a couple of days.  He might come down again, but that’s not certain.”

Sylvia considered, for she saw what Herbert required.  She was to exert her powers of fascination upon the visitor, in order to make him more pliable in his host’s hands.  The task was not a disagreeable one, and she had foreseen all along that Herbert, in indulging her in various ways, would look for some return.

“After all,” she said, “there’s no reason why I should be ungracious to him, so long as he’s pleasant.”

Herbert carelessly nodded agreement, but Sylvia knew that he expected her to carry out his wishes; and she did not find it difficult when the guest arrived.

Paul Singleton was young, and perhaps unusually susceptible to the influences brought to bear upon him during his visit.  Born with some talents, in very humble station, he had by means of scholarships obtained an excellent education, and had devoted himself in particular to the study of botany.  A prosperous man who took an interest in him sent him out to a tropical plantation, where he wrote a work on the vegetable product of equatorial regions, which secured him notice.  Indeed, he was beginning to make his mark as an authority on the subject.  So far, however, his life had been one of economy and self-denial, and although Lansing’s dwelling was not characterized by any very marked signs of culture or luxury, it was different from the surroundings to which Singleton was accustomed.  His hostess was staidly cordial and at once set him at his ease; Sylvia was a revelation.  Her piquant prettiness and her charm of manner dazzled him.  She played her part well, not merely because she had agreed to do so, but because it was one that strongly appealed to her nature.