Selwyn rose, very white and still. After a moment he drew a quiet breath, his clinched hands relaxed, and he picked up his hat and gloves.
"They are my friends," muttered Gerald, as pale as he. "You drove me into speaking that way."
"Perhaps I did, my boy. . . . I don't judge you. . . . If you ever find you need help, come to me; and if you can't come, and still need me, send for me. I'll do what I can—always. I know you better than you know yourself. Good-bye."
He turned to the door; and Gerald burst out: "Why can't you let my friends alone? I liked you before you began this sort of thing!"
"I will let them alone if you will," said Selwyn, halting. "I can't stand by and see you exploited and used and perverted. Will you give me one chance to talk it over, Gerald?"
"No, I wont!" returned Gerald hotly; "I'll stand for my friends every time! There's no treachery in me!"
"You are not standing by me very fast," said the elder man gently.
"I said I was standing by my friends!" repeated the boy.
"Very well, Gerald; but it's at the expense of your own people, I'm afraid."
"That's my business, and you're not one of 'em!" retorted the boy, infuriated; "and you won't be, either, if I can prevent it, no matter whether people say that you're engaged to her—"