Ayre allowed himself to yield in silence.  His motives were a little mixed; and, anyhow, it was not at the moment desirable to explain them.  His vindication would wait.

In the afternoon he paid his call on Mrs. Welman.  She was delighted to see him, not only as a man of social repute, but also because the good lady was in no little distress of mind.  The arrangement between Kate and Eugene was, as a family arrangement, above perfection.  Mrs. Welman was not rich, and like people who are not rich, she highly esteemed riches; like most women, she looked with favor on Eugene; the fact of Kate having some money seemed to her, as it does to most people, a reason for her marrying somebody who had more, instead of aiding in the beneficent work of a more equal distribution of wealth.  But Kate was undeniably willful.  She treated her engagement, indeed, as an absolutely binding and unbreakable tie—­a fact so conclusively accomplished that it could almost be ignored.  But she received any suggestion of a possible excess in her graciousness toward Haddington and her acceptance of his society, as at once a folly and an insult; and as she was of age and paid half the bills, all means of suasion were conspicuously lacking.  Mrs. Welman was in a position exactly the reverse of the pleasant one; she had responsibility without power.  It is true her responsibility was mainly a figment of her own brain, but its burden upon her was none the less heavy for that.

It must be admitted that Ayre’s dealings with her were wanting in candor.  Under the guise of family friendship, he led her on to open her mind to him.  He extracted from her detailed accounts of long excursions into the outskirts of the forest, of numberless walks in the shady paths, of an expedition to the races (where perfect solitude can always be obtained), and of many other diversions which Kate and Haddington had enjoyed together, while she was left to knit “clouds” and chew reflections in the Kurhaus garden.  All this, Ayre recognized, with lively but suppressed satisfaction, was not as it should be.

“I have spoken to Kate,” she concluded, “but she takes no notice; will you do me a service?”

“Of course,” said Ayre; “anything I can.”

“Will you speak to Mr. Haddington?”

This by no means suited Ayre’s book.  Moreover, it would very likely expose him to a snub, and he had no fancy for being snubbed by a man like Haddington.

“I can hardly do that.  I have no position.  I’m not her father, or uncle, or anything of that sort.”

“You might influence him.”

“No, he’d tell me to mind my own business.  To speak plainly, my dear lady, it isn’t as if Kate couldn’t take care of herself.  She could stop his attentions to-morrow if she liked.  Isn’t it so?”

Mrs. Welman sadly admitted it was.

“The only thing I can do is to keep an eye on them, and act as I think best; that I will gladly do.”