before making inquiries about him?"

"She knows very well who he is. She's visited here several times.
If told of Harrie's past dissipations, she'd soothe herself with the
usual dope of boys being boys, and men being men, and bygones being
bygones." Selwyn's hands made gesture of disgust. "It's a plain
case of damned fool. She deserves what she'll get if she lets her
daughter marry Harrie. But the daughter doesn't. Somebody ought to
tell the child she mustn't marry him. If there was a father or
brother the responsibility would be on them. There's neither."

"But didn't you tell Harrie--that--that--"

"I did. And the language I used was not learned in a kindergarten.
Among other things I told him was that if he-- Oh, it's no use going
into that. It's easy to say what you'll do, but it isn't easy to
show your brother up as--as everything one's brother shouldn't be."

For a moment or two Selwyn continued his restless walking up and down
the room, in his face no masking of the pain and weariness of spirit
that were possessing him. To no one else would he speak so frankly
of a family affair, and I wanted much to help him, but how? What was
it he wanted me to do? I could not see where I came in to do
anything.

"Is Harrie very much in love?" Such questioning was consciously
silly, but something had to be said. "Do you think he really loves
the girl?"

"No, I don't. He says he does, of course, but he doesn't love
anything but himself. Making love is a habit with him. Our girls
know how to take the sort of stuff he talks; rather expect it, but
this little creature is obviously a literalist. I imagine Harrie
hardly remembers how it happened. He probably was surprised to find
himself engaged. However, he's determined to go through with it. A
million-dollar mother-in-law has a good deal in her favor. But
something is the matter with the boy. He's not himself."

"Didn't he go away about a year ago, and stay some time? If he could
begin all over--"

"There's nowhere under heaven I wouldn't send him if he'd go with the
purpose of beginning all over, but he won't stay away. About six
months ago he went to South America and stayed four months. Since he
got home he's been worse than ever--reckless, defiant, and drinking
heavily. His health has gone and most of his money; practically all
of it. I don't know what to do. I want to do what is right. Tell
me what it is, Danny."

My breath was drawn