For a few months he had no reason to alter his opinion. Thanks to his presence of mind, the Prentice family had no terrors for him. Heart-whole and fancy free, he led the easy life of a man of leisure, a condition of things suddenly upset by the arrival of Miss Grace Lindsay to take up a post at the elementary school. Mr. Barrett succumbed almost at once, and, after a few encounters in the street and meetings at mutual friends’, went to unbosom him-self to Mr. Jernshaw.
“What has she got to do with you?” demanded that gentleman.
“I—I’m rather struck with her,” said Mr. Barrett.
“Struck with her?” repeated his friend, sharply. “I’m surprised at you. You’ve no business to think of such things.”
“Why not?” demanded Mr. Barrett, in tones that were sharper still.
“Why not?” repeated the other. “Have you forgotten your wife and children?”
Mr. Barrett, who, to do him justice, had forgotten, fell back in his chair and sat gazing at him, open-mouthed.
“You’re in a false position—in a way,” said Mr. Jernshaw, sternly.
“False is no name for it,” said Mr. Barrett, huskily. “What am I to do?”
“Do?” repeated the other, staring at him. “Nothing! Unless, perhaps, you send for your wife and children. I suppose, in any case, you would have to have the little ones if anything happened to her?”