“Gerald—­”

“Oh, I know perfectly well that you dislike Neergard.  I don’t, and that’s the difference.”

“I’m not speaking of Mr. Neergard, Gerald; I’m only trying to tell you what this man Ruthven really is doing—­”

“What do I care what he is doing!” cried Gerald angrily.  “And, anyway, it isn’t likely I’d come to you to find out anything about Mrs. Ruthven’s second husband!”

Selwyn rose, very white and still.  After a moment he drew a quiet breath, his clinched hands relaxed, and he picked up his hat and gloves.

“They are my friends,” muttered Gerald, as pale as he.  “You drove me into speaking that way.”

“Perhaps I did, my boy. . . .  I don’t judge you. . . .  If you ever find you need help, come to me; and if you can’t come, and still need me, send for me.  I’ll do what I can—­always.  I know you better than you know yourself.  Good-bye.”

He turned to the door; and Gerald burst out:  “Why can’t you let my friends alone?  I liked you before you began this sort of thing!”

“I will let them alone if you will,” said Selwyn, halting.  “I can’t stand by and see you exploited and used and perverted.  Will you give me one chance to talk it over, Gerald?”

“No, I wont!” returned Gerald hotly; “I’ll stand for my friends every time!  There’s no treachery in me!”

“You are not standing by me very fast,” said the elder man gently.

“I said I was standing by my friends!” repeated the boy.

“Very well, Gerald; but it’s at the expense of your own people, I’m afraid.”

“That’s my business, and you’re not one of ’em!” retorted the boy, infuriated; “and you won’t be, either, if I can prevent it, no matter whether people say that you’re engaged to her—­”

“What!” whispered Selwyn, wheeling like a flash.  The last vestige of colour had fled from his face; and Gerald caught his breath, almost blinded by the blaze of fury in the elder man’s eyes.

Neither spoke again; and after a moment Selwyn’s eyes fell, he turned heavily on his heel and walked away, head bent, gray eyes narrowing to slits.

Yet, through the brain’s chaos and the heart’s loud tumult and the clamour of pulses run wild at the insult flung into his very face, the grim instinct to go on persisted.  And he went on, and on, for her sake—­on—­he knew not how—­until he came to Neergard’s apartment in one of the vast West-Side constructions, bearing the name of a sovereign state; and here, after an interval, he followed his card to Neergard’s splendid suite, where a man-servant received him and left him seated by a sunny window overlooking the blossoming foliage of the Park.

When Neergard came in, and stood on the farther side of a big oak table, Selwyn rose, returning the cool, curt nod.

“Mr. Neergard,” he said, “it is not easy for me to come here after what I said to you when I severed my connection with your firm.  You have every reason to be unfriendly toward me; but I came on the chance that whatever resentment you may feel will not prevent you from hearing me out.”