"Well then?" Charliewood said.
"I feel in a sort of way that I've done an awfully caddish thing," Rathbone went on. "Fortunately, I am not in Gouldesbrough's set. I don't know him at all. At the same time it's awfully bad form to make love to a girl who's engaged to any one else. And that, unconsciously, is just what I seem to have been doing for a very long time. But, believe me," he concluded with a singular simplicity and boyishness, "I really couldn't help it."
Charliewood laughed a little and then sighed to himself.
"I quite understand," he said; "these things do and will happen, and it wasn't your fault at all. But I do think it's very wrong if a girl who finds that she has made a mistake doesn't put it right before it becomes unavoidable."
"Do you really?" Rathbone cried. "Well, do you know, that's just my point of view, and it relieves me to hear you say so."
"And do you know," Charliewood replied, "that I'm probably the most intimate friend William Gouldesbrough has in the world?"
Rathbone started. "Good Lord!" he said. "Then—what—then—why? And you really mean that you can be friends with me?"
"That's just what I do mean," Charliewood answered; "and now we've got to the point, I will tell you frankly that though our meeting was a pure accident in the first place, I am awfully glad that we did meet and that you are here to-night. I have talked the whole matter over with poor dear Sir William a good deal lately. He has done me the honour to make me his confidant in the matter. Two or three days ago I mentioned that I knew you."
"What did he say?" Rathbone asked quickly.
"I can't tell you his words," Charliewood answered, "but I can tell you their purpose. And it was a wonderful revelation to me of the strength and beauty of my old friend's character. He's a fine fellow, Rathbone, and when you know him you'll say so too."