“But don’t you see you are admitting that he shouldn’t come?” Clare asked, with some color in her face. “He is young and inexperienced, and your friends are men of the world. What is safe for them may be dangerous for him.”
Kenwardine pondered. Fuller was an attractive lad, and he would not have been displeased to think that Clare’s wish to protect him might spring from sentimental tenderness. But if this were so, she would hardly have been so frank and have admitted that he was weak. Moreover, if she found his society congenial, she would not insist on keeping him away.
“You are afraid some of the others might take advantage of his rashness?” he suggested. “Can’t you trust me to see this doesn’t happen?”
“It did happen, not long ago. And you can’t go very far; one can’t be rude to one’s guests.”
“Well,” said Kenwardine, smiling, “it’s kind of you to make an excuse for me. On the whole, of course, I like you to be fastidious in your choice of friends, but one should temper severity with sense. I don’t want you to get as exacting as Brandon, for example.”
“I’m afraid he was right when he tried to keep Fuller away.”
“Right in thinking my house was unsafe for the lad, and in warning him that you and I were unfit for him to associate with?”
Kenwardine studied the girl. She looked distressed, and he thought this significant, but after a moment or two she answered steadily:
“After all, Brandon had some grounds for thinking so. I would much sooner you didn’t urge me to ask Jake Fuller.”
“Very well,” said Kenwardine. “I don’t want you to do anything that’s repugnant; but, of course, if he comes to see me, I can’t send him off. It isn’t a matter of much importance, anyhow.”