"Mr. Ansted, I hope you will pardon the rudeness, but your words sound to me almost like those of an insane person. You recognize your influence over a young man to be evil, realize it to the extent that you make an effort to have him withdrawn from it, and yet if I understand you, make no attempt to change the character of the influence which you have over him. That can not possibly be your meaning!"
"I think it is, about that. Don't you understand? What is a mere entertainment to me—a passing luxury, which I can afford, and which does me no harm—is the very brink of a precipice to poor Harry, owing to his unfortunate inherited tendencies. I would like to see him saved, but there is nothing in particular that I can do."
"Oh," she said in genuine distress, "I wonder if it is possible for a soul to be so blind! You can do everything, Mr. Ansted; and, moreover, how can you think you have a right to say that you are not personally in danger from the same source? Men as assured in position and as strong in mental power as you have fallen by the hundreds. Surely you know that there is no safety from such a foe save in having none of him."
"Do you think so? In that we would differ. I am not fanatical in this matter. I recognize Harry's danger, but I recognize equally that I am built in a different mold, and have different antecedents."
"And have no responsibilities connected with him?"
"Oh, yes, I have," he said in utmost good humor; "I assumed responsibility when I came here to ask you to help him. It was the best thing I could think of to do for the boy. You think I am playing a part, but upon honor, I am not. I know his mother is anxious."
She wondered afterward whether it were not an unwise question to ask, but said:
"Is not your mother anxious, Mr. Ansted?"
"Not in the least!" he answered smilingly.