"Well, I fancy that time hangs pretty heavy on his hands. Of course, I am too busy to do much in the entertaining line—and I have an idea that I am too German for his taste. At any rate, my wife is very anxious that he should see something more of Berlin life—the social life, you know—and that he should have a—a good impression."
"I can quite understand that," Seleneck said slowly. "We'll do everything we can. Let me see, Elsa was talking of giving a little dinner next week. I'll tell her to include him in the invitation."
"Thank you," Wolff answered. He was staring hard in front of him, and an uncomfortable flush had mounted his cheeks. "It's very good of you both," he added, as though ashamed of his own lack of enthusiasm. "As a matter of fact, Miles has found entertainment enough for the present. He has picked up with Bauer, who appears to have some rich relations here. My—my wife has got to know them too."
"Yes, so I heard," Seleneck observed grimly.
Wolff looked up, frowning.
"Is there any objection?" he demanded.
"I don't know, alter Junge." Seleneck hesitated, conscious again of a failing diplomacy, but goaded on by a sense of duty. "The Bauers are immensely wealthy, but they do not belong to our set, and Bauer himself is not the sort of man to whom I should like to trust a young fellow—or, indeed, any one," he added almost inaudibly.
"What do you mean by that?"
Seleneck faced the stern eyes with the courage of desperation.
"I mean—I feel I ought to tell you—your wife's intimacy with the Bauers is causing ill-feeling. It is all nonsense, of course, but you know how it is—people talk. Forgive me for putting it plainly—Bauer has a bad reputation. They say he has already escaped dismissal from the Army by a hair's-breadth. It is well to be careful." He waited a moment, and then went on, "It has been on my mind some time, Wolff. I felt I ought to warn you, but was afraid you might take it amiss."