"I see," said Marston. "I'm known to be dull; but I'm not so dull that I miss your meaning. Well, you know Harry Wyndham's my friend."
They were lovers who used no reserve, and Mabel did not hesitate.
"Flora's my friend," she said. "Do you always trust Wyndham?"
"If I didn't trust him, he wouldn't be my friend."
"In some ways, you're very nice, Bob. But I'm afraid. Flora's attracted by Wyndham. I wish she were not."
"Why? Don't you like Harry?"
"It's rather that I love Flora. She's sincere and proud. She's fastidious; I think I mean she's scrupulously honorable."
"Then you imply that Harry is not?" Marston asked, with a touch of sternness.
"No, I don't altogether imply this; but I feel he is not the man for Flora."
"Well," said Marston quietly, "I have known Harry long. He's clever and generous; he has pluck and when strain comes is his best. I know what some folks think about him, and Harry knows his handicap. The Wyndhams were rather a wild lot, the family business was drifting on the rocks, and the character of its recent head was not good. All this is a load for Harry, but he'll run straight, and I feel my job is to help him out."