the strict execution of the charge laid upon him,
may he not try to persuade Miss Arkwright to take a less frigid view of
life? The reader, virtuous soul, may censure: I can only record. Yet,
too, it was something in the nature of a drug to his conscience. When he
had time to think (and he had plenty of time for that) he loathed the
idea of being there under false pretenses, playing the spy. It was all
very well arguing that it was for the sake of Beatrice, but it would
have been an easier task if Winifred had not been so charming. She was
too charming, but it had to be done.... Of course, he ought to have
refused a hint of dalliance, but one step leads to another, and man is
frail. Besides, it had not gone very far ... not far enough to hurt
either him or her.

One mundane detail must be given in this chapter. The morning after his
arrival he had written to London for a supply of clothes. For the
credit of the Blair side of the family he felt that some of Beatrice's
notes ought to be spent on an adequate wardrobe. They came the day
after, giving color to the excuse that his valet had got drunk and
pawned the contents of his flat two hours after his leaving London. Miss
Arkwright did not seem to think it strange; anything might happen in
that wicked city. But she considered the Homburg hat a little "too
continental." This was before her education had begun in earnest.

CHAPTER XVII

OFF WITH THE OLD LOVE

It is all very well to be urged to suspect, for, within reason, nothing
is easier. The world, in the process of our education, deals out so many
hard knocks that speedily we begin to look with dubious eyes on every
stranger--sometimes, alas! even upon our friends. We suspect the motives
of Smith, who recommends a first-rate cigar: does he get a commission?
We suspect Brown, who asks us to drop in any evening: has he a
marriageable daughter? Jones lauds the latest novel: is he the anonymous
author? Robinson advises the purchase of Consolidated Stumers: is he
trying to make us "hold the baby"? Suspicion is epidemic. What the world
wants is a host of missionary spirits to say, "For goodness' sake do
drop suspicion for a while and believe in your fellow man! Smith really
does imagine himself a judge of tobacco; Brown, as a matter of fact,
thinks you quite a pleasant chap, and his daughter is engaged; Jones
never wrote a line in his life, save on a check; and Robinson for once
has inside information. Give suspi