"Wait a bit. You haven't heard the whole position. You saw me in Catsford? You saw me bow to her?"
I nodded assent.
"Then I think I ought to go and pay her my respects—if it's not disagreeable to her to receive me."
"But why should it be?"
"I belong to Fillingford Manor. I'm living there now. Neither the master nor the lady of the house will—neither of them shares my views."
That did, on reflection, make the matter a little less simple than it had seemed at first.
"I don't suppose we either of us want to discuss their reasons—or wonder at the line they take. I had a little talk with my father about it. He's always very fair. 'You're a man,' he said. 'Decide for yourself. If after the recognition that passed between you—and on your initiative, as I understand—you feel bound—as you say you do—as a gentleman to go and pay your respects, go. But I shall be obliged to you if you will make the relations between that house and this as distant as is consistent with the demands of courtesy.'"
"In view of that I don't think you're in any way bound to call: I'm not at all sure you ought to. Lord Fillingford's wishes are entitled to great weight—especially while you're living in his house."
He was a man now—and a fine specimen of one—but his boyish impetuosity had not left him. "By Jove, I want to go, Austin!" he exclaimed.
"Well, I thought that perhaps you did."