"I thought you'd say that. But he mustn't see it."
"Why, Lane, you're as bad as a child. It's a man in love, that's all."
"If he saw it," said Eugene, "he'd hang himself."
"Oh, gently!" said Ayre. "If you ask me, I expect Stafford will pretty soon get beyond any surprise at the revelation. He must walk his path, like all of us. It can't matter to you, you know," he added, with a sharp glance.
"No, it can't matter to me," said Eugene steadily.
"Put it away, Morewood, and come out of doors. Perhaps you'd better not leave it about, at present at any rate."
Morewood took down the picture and placed it in a large portfolio, which he locked, and accompanied Ayre. Eugene made no motion to come with them, and they left him sitting there.
"The atmosphere," said Sir Roderick, looking up into the clear summer sky, "is getting thundery and complicated. I hate complications! They're a bore! I think I shall go."
"I shan't. It will be interesting."
"Perhaps you're right. I'll stay a little while."