It was waste of breath to tell any one so superficially self-confident that a girl of nineteen might need protection from risks older and more insidious than she would deign to admit. His eyes wandered for a moment to the corner where John Gaymer was talking to Amy Loring; it was hard for one man to say what attraction any other man exerted over women, but Gaymer was undeniably popular; without being handsome, he was more than presentable in appearance, with an immaculate shell; the war had proved his strength and reckless courage, and he comported himself towards women with a devil-may-care assurance that occasionally degenerated into a brutality which they did not seem to resent. It was his business if he embarrassed himself with Ivy Maitland’s adoration and hers if she chose to fall in love with him... Eric tried to recall what he had seen of their manner to each other: Gaymer had apparently forced himself upon the party when he heard that Ivy was dining, but this was perhaps no more than a convenient means of meeting his partner before the dance; he had shewn her only the boisterous attention that he held in readiness for all women who would accept it; and, if they were in love, neither would welcome a third person in the taxi....
Eric’s attention was recalled to Ivy when he heard her proclaiming rather petulantly:
“Somebody must make a start.”
“You’ve not yet convinced me that you’ve any great hardships to put up with at home,” he answered, with difficulty suppressing a yawn.
“They aren’t great. They’re small, absurdly small. But they’re innumerable and everlasting. Now, take to-night. When I met Johnnie last week at Mrs. O’Rane’s, we found that we danced rather well together. He’s frightfully good at games and everything—”
“Do you know anything about him?” Eric interrupted.
“Not much. Do you?”
“Nothing at all. I’ve met him on and off for some years, but in all the time I’ve never seen as much of him as I saw of you that night in New York. On general principles, don’t you think it’s—imprudent; aren’t your parents justified in thinking it’s imprudent for you to tumble into an intimacy—not with Gaymer, but with any man of whom you know absolutely nothing?”
“But women have instincts about men! I should be no better off if I dragged him away and introduced him to mother and made her invite him to dinner. I daresay that’s more conventional, but it doesn’t do any good.”
Eric hesitated long enough to ask himself why he inflicted so much advice on a very raw child, but not long enough to answer his own question.