“I really don’t want to hear,” said Kate, in some alarm.  There’s no telling what men will say when they become confidential, and Kate’s propriety was a tender plant.

“It concerns you.”

“Me?  Nonsense!  How can it?”

“In order to serve a friend, I did a—­well—­a doubtful thing.”

Kate was puzzled.

“You are in a curious mood, Sir Roderick.  Do you often ask moral counsel?”

“I am not going to ask it.  I am, with your kind permission, going to offer it.”

“You are going to offer me moral counsel?”

“I thought of taking that liberty.  You see, we are old friends.”

“We have known one another some time.”

Ayre smiled at the implied correction.

“Do you object to plain speaking?”

“That depends on the speaker.  If he has a right, no; if not, yes.”

“You mean I should have no right?”

“I certainly don’t see on what ground.”

“If not an old friend of yours, as I had hoped to be allowed to rank myself, I am, anyhow, a very old friend of Eugene’s.”

“What has Mr. Lane to do with it?”

“As an old friend of his—­”

“Excuse me, Sir Roderick; you seem to forget that Mr. Lane is even more than an old friend to me.”

“He should be, no doubt,” said Ayre blandly.

“I shall not listen to this.  No old friendship excuses impertinence, Sir Roderick.”

“Pray don’t be angry.  I have really something to say, and—­pardon me—­you must hear it.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“True; I did wrong to say ‘must.’  You are at perfect liberty.  Only, if you refuse, Eugene must hear it.”

Kate paused.  Then, with a laugh, she said: 

“Perhaps I am taking it too gravely.  What is this great thing I must hear?”

“Ah!  I hoped we could settle it amicably.  It’s merely this:  you must release Eugene from his engagement.”

Kate did not trouble to affect surprise.  She knew it would be useless.

“Did he send you to tell me this?”

“You know he didn’t.”

“Then whose envoy are you?  Ah! perhaps you are Claudia Territon’s chosen knight?”

“Not at all,” said Ayre, still unruffled.  “I have had no communication with Lady Claudia—­a fact of which you have no right to affect doubt.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean you must release Eugene.”

“Pray tell me why,” asked she calmly, but with a calm only obtained after effort.

“Because it is not usual—­and in this matter it seems to me usage is right—­it is not usual for a young lady to be engaged to two men at once.”

“You are merely insolent.  I will wish you good-morning.”

“I am glad you understand my insinuation.  Explanations are so tedious.  Where are you going, Miss Bernard?”

“Home.”

“Then I must tell Eugene?”