At last, feeling that he was losing grip and might act foolishly, he announced to Forbes, one night when a glorious moon was shining, and he knew that Evelyn was awaiting him in the garden, that he must leave for London next day.
"Why?" inquired his host. "Has something unforeseen happened? I thought you meant remaining here till the end of the month at the earliest."
"I'm sorry," said Theydon, chewing a cigar viciously as a means toward maintaining his self-control. "I'm sorry, but I must go."
There was a slight pause. Forbes looked at his young friend with those earnest, deep-seeing eyes of his.
"Is it a personal matter?" he went on.
"Yes."
Again there was a pause. Theydon was well aware that he risked a grave misunderstanding, but that could not be avoided. It might be even better so. And then his blood ran cold, because Forbes was saying:
"Are you leaving us because of anything Evelyn has said or done?"
"No, no!" came the frenzied answer. "Heaven help me, why do you ask that?"
"Heaven helps those who help themselves," said the older man. "That is a trite saying, but it meets the case. I think I diagnose your trouble, my boy. You are in love with Evelyn, and dare not tell her so, because I happen to be a rich man. Really I didn't think you had so poor an opinion of me as to believe that money or rank would count against my daughter's happiness."