Dawney took his arm, and walked him up and down.

“I’ll let you go,” he said, “but give me a chance!  It’s as much to me to put you straight as it is to you to paint a decent picture.  Now go to bed; I’ll have a carriage for you to-morrow morning.”

Harz sat down on the bed again, and for a long time stayed without moving, his eyes fixed on the floor.  The sight of him, so desperate and miserable, hurt the young doctor.

“Can you get to bed by yourself?” he asked at last.

Harz nodded.

“Then, good-night, old chap!” and Dawney left the room.

He took his hat and turned towards the Villa.  Between the poplars he stopped to think.  The farther trees were fret-worked black against the lingering gold of the sunset; a huge moth, attracted by the tip of his cigar, came fluttering in his face.  The music of a concertina rose and fell, like the sighing of some disillusioned spirit.  Dawney stood for several minutes staring at the house.

He was shown to Mrs. Decie’s room.  She was holding a magazine before her eyes, and received him with as much relief as philosophy permitted.

“You are the very person I wanted to see,” she said.

He noticed that the magazine she held was uncut.

“You are a young man,” pursued Mrs. Decie, “but as my doctor I have a right to your discretion.”

Dawney smiled; the features of his broad, clean-shaven face looked ridiculously small on such occasions, but his eyes retained their air of calculation.

“That is so,” he answered.

“It is about this unfortunate affair.  I understand that Mr. Harz is with you.  I want you to use your influence to dissuade him from attempting to see my niece.”

“Influence!” said Dawney; “you know Harz!”

Mrs. Decie’s voice hardened.

“Everybody,” she said, “has his weak points.  This young man is open to approach from at least two quarters—­his pride is one, his work an other.  I am seldom wrong in gauging character; these are his vital spots, and they are of the essence of this matter.  I’m sorry for him, of course—­but at his age, and living a man’s life, these things—­” Her smile was extra pale.  “I wish you could give me something for my head.  It’s foolish to worry.  Nerves of course!  But I can’t help it!  You know my opinion, Dr. Dawney.  That young man will go far if he remains unfettered; he will make a name.  You will be doing him a great service if you could show him the affair as it really is—­a drag on him, and quite unworthy of his pride!  Do help me!  You are just the man to do it!”

Dawney threw up his head as if to shake off this impeachment; the curve of his chin thus displayed was imposing in its fulness; altogether he was imposing, having an air of capability.

She struck him, indeed, as really scared; it was as if her mask of smile had become awry, and failed to cover her emotion; and he was puzzled, thinking, ‘I wouldn’t have believed she had it in her....’  “It’s not an easy business,” he said; “I’ll think it over.”