’Now, don’t let us have any misunderstanding.  You will please remember that my journey to England is quite independent of what took place two years and a half ago.  It has nothing whatever to do with those circumstances.’

Earwaker smiled.

‘I tell you,’ pursued the other, hotly, ’that I am here to see you —­and one or two other old friends; and to look after some business matters.  You will oblige me by giving credit to my assertion!’

‘Don’t get angry.  I am convinced of the truth of what you say.’

’Very well!  It’s as likely as not that, on returning to Auckland, I shall marry Miss Maccabe—­of whom I have written to you.  I needn’t repeat the substance of my letters.  I am not in love with her, you understand, and I needn’t say that my intercourse with that family has been guided by extreme discretion.  But she is a very sensible young lady.  My only regret is that I didn’t know her half-a-dozen years ago, so that I could have directed her education.  She might have been even more interesting than she is.  But—­you are at leisure, I hope, Earwaker?’

‘For an hour or two.’

’Oh, confound it!  When a friend comes back from the ends of the earth!—­Yes, yes; I understand.  You are a busy man; forgive my hastiness.  Well now, I was going to say that I shall probably call upon Mrs. Jacox.’  He paused, and gave the listener a stern look, forbidding misconstruction.  ’Yes, I shall probably go down to Wrotham.  I wish to put my relations with that family on a proper footing.  Our correspondence has been very satisfactory, especially of late.  The poor woman laments more sincerely her—­well, let us say, her folly of two years and a half ago.  She has outlived it; she regards me as a friend.  Bella and Lily seem to be getting on very well indeed.  That governess of theirs—­we won’t have any more mystery; it was I who undertook the trifling expense.  A really excellent teacher, I have every reason to believe.  I am told that Bella promises to be a remarkable pianist, and Lily is uncommonly strong in languages.  But my interest in them is merely that of a friend; let it be understood.’

’Precisely.  You didn’t say whether the girls have been writing to you?’

’No, no, no!  Not a line.  I have exchanged letters only with their mother.  Anything else would have been indiscreet.  I shall be glad to see them, but my old schemes are things of the past.  There is not the faintest probability that Bella has retained any recollection of me at all.’

‘I daresay not,’ assented Earwaker.

’You think so?  Very well; I have acted wisely.  Bella is still a child, you know—­compared with a man of my age.  She is seventeen and a few months; quite a child!  Miss Maccabe is just one-and-twenty; the proper age.  When we are married, I think I shall bring her to Europe for a year or two.  Her education needs that; she will be delighted to see the old countries.’