Had John told his father of Rodrigo's former career of philandering? The Italian wondered. Then he decided that John was no tale-bearer. Henry Dorning must have deduced from his guest's general air of sophistication and his aristocratic extraction that he was worldly wise.
The elder Dorning went on, "I have sometimes wondered what will happen to John when he has his first love affair. Because sooner or later it will happen, and it will be all the more violent because of its long postponement. And the girl is quite likely to be of the wrong sort. I can imagine an unscrupulous, clever woman setting out deliberately to ensnare my son for his money and succeeding very handily. He is utterly inexperienced with that type of woman. He believes they are all angels. That's how much he knows about them. He is so much the soul of honor himself that, though he has developed a certain shrewdness in business matters, in the affairs of the heart he is an amateur.
"John is such a sensitive, high-strung boy. It is quite conceivable that an unfortunate love affair would ruin his whole life. He would be without the emotional resiliency to recover from such a catastrophe that the average man possesses. I am boring you with all this, Rodrigo, because I believe you can help him. Without in any way appointing yourself either his chaperon or his guide to worldly things, I think you can gradually draw him a little out of his present narrow way of life. You are a very attractive man, and John is not exactly unpleasing to the feminine eye. Together you could meet people who are engaged upon the lighter things of life. Frivolous, pleasure-loving people. People of Broadway. Enter into New York's night life. Go to Greenwich Village, Palm Beach, Newport. Loaf and play. It will do you both good.
"Of course I am very selfish in this as far as you are concerned. I am thinking primarily of my son and his future. As soon as he told me about you, I secretly rejoiced that he had made such a friend—a cosmopolitan, a man who presumably knew the world. I had hoped that my son-in-law, Warren, might prove such a companion for John. But Warren is too much in love with his wife and too engrossed in his business. In the matter of taking time to play, he is almost as bad as John."
Rodrigo smiled rather dourly to himself. He appreciated that Henry Dorning's diagnosis of John was correct. He was sensible of the honor paid him by the elderly man's confidence and request. But it impressed him as ironical that he should now be urged by John's father to resume his former mode of life, and to resume it to aid the very man for whom he had forsaken it.
Nevertheless, he was about to indicate his willingness to conspire with Mr. Dorning for the education of his son when the object of their discussion, accompanied by Alice, was whirled up the drive in the limousine. John joined the two men on the porch and Alice, with the object of speeding dinner, disappeared into the house.
With a significant and quite unnecessary glance at Rodrigo, Mr. Dorning changed the subject. John offered some laughing comment upon the eccentric ideas of his friend, Edward Fernard, as to interior decoration and inquired about Rodrigo's golf. The conversation lulled a bit and then Henry Dorning, as if recalling something that had for the time being escaped his mind, said, "Mark Rosner is back from Europe. He was up to see me the other day."
"Yes, I told you he crossed with us," John replied. "I understand he has bought a building on Forty-Seventh Street, a converted brown-stone front and intends opening up an antique shop very soon."
"That's what he came to see me about," Mr. Dorning commented dryly. "He wanted me to take a mortgage on the property, so that he could buy it."
"Did you do it?"