"It's possible, quite possible! Others have been cured,—why not he?" exclaimed Lord James, his face aglow with boyish enthusiasm. But as suddenly it clouded. "Ah, though, most unfortunate—this stand of Miss Leslie's!"
"What about her?" queried Griffith, as the other hesitated.
"She has told him that he must win out absolutely on his own strength, without her aid or sympathy."
"Well, I'll be—switched! Thought she loved him."
Lord James flushed, yet answered without hesitancy. "It is to be presumed she does, otherwise she would not have forced this test upon him."
"How d' you make that out?"
"Mere grateful interest in his welfare would have been satisfied by the assurance of his material success. On the other hand, her—ah—feeling toward him is at present held in restraint by her acute judgment. She had reason to esteem him in that savage environment. She now realizes that he must win her esteem in her own proper environment. She is not merely a young lady—she is a lady. Her rare good sense tells her that she must not accept him unless he proves himself fit."
"He's a lot fitter than all these lallapaloozer papa's boys and some of their fathers,—all those empty-headed swells that are called eligibles," rejoined Griffith.
"It's not a question of polish or culture, believe me. She is far too clever to doubt that he would acquire that quickly enough. My reference was to this one flaw, which may yet shatter him. The question is whether it penetrates too deep into his nature. If not—if he can rid himself of it—then even I admit that he would make her happy."
"Yet she won't lift a finger to help him fight it out?"