“But you are said to be engaged to Miss Rodney,” ventured Brock, feeling his way.

“That’s just the point, Mr. Medcroft.  We’re not really engaged—­but almost.  As a matter of fact, we’ve got to the point where it’s really up to me to speak to her father about it, don’t you know.  Luckily, I haven’t.”

“Luckily?”

“Yes.  That would have committed me, don’t you see.  I’ve been tentatively engaged more than a dozen times, but never quite up to the girl’s father.  Now, I don’t mind telling you that I’ve changed my mind about Katherine.  She’s a jolly good sort, but she’s not just my sort.  I thought she was, but—­well, you know how it is yourself.  The heart’s a damned queer organ.  Mine has gone back to Constance in the last two days.  You are her brother-in-law, and you’re a good fellow, through and through.  I want your help.  I’ve got money to burn, and the family’s got position in the States.  I can take care of her as she should be taken care of.  No little old six-room flat for her.  But, of course, you understand, I can’t quite carry the thing through with Katherine still feeling herself attached, as it were.  The thing to decide is this:  how best can I let Katherine down easily and take on Connie without putting myself in a rather hazardous position?  I’m a gentleman, you see, and I can’t do anything downright rotten.  It wouldn’t do.  I’m sure, in her heart, Connie cares for me.  I could make her understand me better if I had half the chance.  But a fellow can’t get near her nowadays.  Don’t you think you are carrying the family link too far?  Now, what I want to ask of you, as a friend, is this:  will you put in a good word for me every chance you get?  I’ll square myself with Katherine all right.  Of course, you’ll understand, I don’t want to actually break with Katherine until I’m reasonably sure of Constance.  I’m a guest of the Rodney family, you see.  It would be downright indecent of me.  No, sir!  I’m not that sort.  I shouldn’t think of ending it all with Katherine so long as we are both guests of her father.  I’d wait until the end of next week.”

Brock had listened in utter amazement to the opening portion of this ingenuous proposal.  As the flexile youth progressed, amazement gave place to indignation and then to disgust.  Brock’s brow grew dark; the impulse to pull his countryman’s nose was hard to overcome.  Never in all his life had he listened to such a frankly cold-blooded argument as that put forth by the insufferable Knicker-bocker.  In the end the big New Yorker saw only the laughable side of the little New Yorker’s plight.  After all, he was a harmless egoist, from whom no girl could expect much in the way of recompense.  It mattered little who the girl of the moment might be, she could not hope to or even seek to hold his perambulatory affections.  “He’s a single example of a great New York class,” reflected Brock.  “The futile, priggish rich!  There are thousands