He answered absently.

‘She talks of another month or two.’

’But what have her guardians to say to that?  Why, she has been away for nearly half a year.  How can that be called living at the old house?’

‘It’s no business of mine.’

’Nor of mine, you mean to say.  Still, it does seem rather strange.  I suppose she is quite to be trusted?’

’Trusted?  What harm can come to her?  She’s keeping out of Sam Barmby’s way, that’s all.  I believe he plagued her to marry him.  A nice husband for Nancy!’

‘I wish we had taken to each other,’ said Mrs. Damerel musingly.  ’I think she was a little jealous of the attention I had paid to you.  But perhaps we shall do better some day.  And I’m quite content so long as you care a little for me, dear boy.  You’ll never give me up, will you?’

It was asked with unusual show of feeling; she leaned forward, her eyes fixed tenderly upon the boy’s face.

‘You would never let a Fanny French come between us, Horace dear?’

‘I only wish you hadn’t brought her among your friends.’

’Some day you will be glad of what I did.  Whatever happens, I am your best friend—­the best and truest friend you will ever have.  You will know it some day.’

The voice impressed Horace, its emotion was so true.  Several times through the day he recalled and thought of it.  As yet he had felt nothing like affection for Mrs. Damerel, but before their next meeting an impulse he did not try to account for caused him to write her a letter—­simply to assure her that he was not ungrateful for her kindness.  The reply that came in a few hours surprised and touched him, for it repeated in yet warmer words all she had spoken.  ’Let me be in the place of a mother to you, dear Horace.  Think of me as if I were your mother.  If I were your mother indeed, I could not love you more.’  He mused over this, and received from it a sense of comfort which was quite new to him.

All through the winter he had been living as a gentleman of assured independence.  This was managed very simply.  Acting on Mrs. Damerel’s counsel he insured his life, and straightaway used the policy as security for a loan of five hundred pounds from a friend of Mrs. Damerel’s.  The insurance itself was not effected without a disagreeable little episode.  As a result of the medical examination, Horace learnt, greatly to his surprise, that he would have to pay a premium somewhat higher than the ordinary.  Unpleasant questions were asked:  Was he quite sure that he knew of no case of consumption in his family?  Quite sure, he answered stoutly, and sincerely.  Why?  Did the doctor think him consumptive?  Oh dear no, but—­a slight constitutional weakness.  In fine, the higher premium must be exacted.  He paid it with the indifference of his years, but said nothing to Mrs. Damerel.

And thereupon began the sowing of wild oats.  At two-and-twenty, after domestic restraint and occupations that he detested, he was let loose upon life.  Five hundred pounds seemed to him practically inexhaustible.  He did not wish to indulge in great extravagance; merely to see and to taste the world.