“I think, on the whole, that I’d better show you a letter I’ve had,” he said.  “Mind you, I take no responsibility for what you do.”

“Nobody wants you to,” said Eugene, with a smile.  “We all understand that’s your position.”

Ayre flung the letter over to him and he read it.

“Oh, by Jove, this is the devil!” he exclaimed, jumping off the writing-table, where he had seated himself.

“So Morewood seems to think.”

“Poor old fellow!  I say, what shall I do?  Poor old Stafford!  Fancy his cutting up like this.”

“It’s kind of you to pity him.”

“What do you mean?  I say, Ayre, you don’t think there is anything in it?”

“Anything in it?”

“You don’t think there’s any chance that Claudia likes him?”

“Haven’t an idea one way or the other,” said Ayre rather disingenuously.

Eugene looked very perturbed.

“You see,” continued Ayre, “it’s pretty cool of you to assume the girl is in love with you when she knew you were engaged to somebody else up to a month ago.”

“Oh, damn it, yes!” groaned Eugene; “but she knew old Stafford had sworn not to marry anybody.”

“And she knew—­of course she knew—­you both wanted to marry her.  I wonder what she thought of both of you!”

“She never had any idea of the sort about him.  About me she may have had an inkling.”

“Just an inkling, perhaps,” assented Sir Roderick.

“The worst of it is, you know, if she does like me I shall feel a brute, cutting in now.  Old Stafford knew I was engaged too, you know.”

“It all serves you right,” observed Ayre comfortingly.  “If you must get engaged at all, why the deuce couldn’t you pick the right girl?”

“Fact is, I don’t show up over well.”

“You don’t; that is a fact.”

“Ayre, I think I ought to let him have his shot first.”

“Bosh! why, as like as not she’d take him!  If it struck her that he was chucking away his immortal soul and all that for her sake, as like as not she’d take him.  Depend upon it, Eugene, once she caught the idea of romantic sin, she’d be gone—­no girl could stand up against it.”

“It is rather the sort of thing to catch Claudia’s fancy.”

“You cut in, my boy,” continued Ayre, “Frendship’s all very well—­”

“Yes, ‘save in the office and affairs of love!’” quoted Eugene, with a smile of scorn at himself.

“Well, you’d better make up your mind, and don’t mount stilts.”

“I’ll go down and look round.  But I can’t ask her without telling her or letting him tell her.”

“Pooh! she knows.”

“She doesn’t, I tell you.”

“Then she ought to.  You’re a nice fellow!  I slave and eavesdrop for you, and now you won’t do the rest yourself.  What the deuce do you all see in that parson?  If I were your age, and thought Claudia Territon would have me, it would take a lot of parsons to put me on one side.”