Selwyn reflected:  “I believe I’d go and see Neergard if I were perfectly sure of my personal sentiments toward him. . . .  He’s been civil enough to me, of course, but I have always had a curious feeling about Neergard—­that he’s for ever on the edge of doing something—­doubtful—­”

“His business reputation is all right.  He shaves the dead line like a safety razor, but he’s never yet cut through it.  On principle, however, look out for an apple-faced Dutchman with a thin nose and no lips.  Neither Jew, Yankee, nor American stands any chance in a deal with that type of financier.  Personally my feeling is this:  if I’ve got to play games with Julius Neergard, I’d prefer to be his partner.  And so I told Gerald.  By the way—­”

Austin checked himself, looked down at his cigar, turned it over and over several times, then continued quietly: 

—­“By the way, I suppose Gerald is like other young men of his age and times—­immersed in his own affairs—­thoughtless perhaps, perhaps a trifle selfish in the cross-country gallop after pleasure. . . .  I was rather severe with him about his neglect of his sister.  He ought to have come here to pay his respects to you, too—­”

“Oh, don’t put such notions into his head—­”

“Yes, I will!” insisted Austin; “however indifferent and thoughtless and selfish he is to other people, he’s got to be considerate toward his own family.  And I told him so.  Have you seen him lately?”

“N-o,” admitted Selwyn.

“Not since that first time when he came to do the civil by you?”

“No; but don’t—­”

“Yes, I will,” repeated his brother-in-law; “and I’m going to have a thorough explanation with him and learn what he’s up to.  He’s got to be decent to his sister; he ought to report to me occasionally; that’s all there is to it.  He has entirely too much liberty with his bachelor quarters and his junior whipper-snapper club, and his house parties and his cruises on Neergard’s boat!”

He got up, casting his cigar from him, and moved about bulkily, muttering of matters to be regulated, and firmly, too.  But Selwyn, looking out of the window across the Park, knew perfectly well that young Erroll, now of age, with a small portion of his handsome income at his mercy, was past the regulating stage and beyond the authority of Austin.  There was no harm in him; he was simply a joyous, pleasure-loving cub, chock full of energetic instincts, good and bad, right and wrong, out of which, formed from the acts which become habits, character matures.  This was his estimate of Gerald.

* * * * *

The next morning, riding in the Park with Eileen, he found a chance to speak cordially of her brother.

“I’ve meant to look up Gerald,” he said, as though the neglect were his own fault, “but every time something happens to switch me on to another track.”

“I’m afraid that I do a great deal of the switching,” she said; “don’t I?  But you’ve been so nice to me and to the children that—­”