The Younger Set | Page 2

acknowledgment of culpability; that he couldn't remain in the service under such suspicion.
"And now, Gerald," continued Austin, striking his broad palm with extended forefinger and leaning heavily forward, "I'll tell you what sort of a man Philip Selwyn is. He permitted Alixe to sue him for absolute divorce--and, to give her every chance to marry Ruthven, he refused to defend the suit. That sort of chivalry is very picturesque, no doubt, but it cost him his career--set him adrift at thirty-five, a man branded as having been divorced from his wife for cause, with no profession left him, no business, not much money--a man in the prime of life and hope and ambition, clean in thought and deed; an upright, just, generous, sensitive man, whose whole career has been blasted because he was too merciful, too generous to throw the blame where it belonged. And it belongs on the shoulders of that Mrs. Jack Ruthven--Alixe Ruthven--whose name you may see in the columns of any paper that truckles to the sort of society she figures in."
Austin stood up, thrust his big hands into his pockets, paced the room for a few moments, and halted before Gerald.
"If any woman ever played me a dirty trick," he said, "I'd see that the public made no mistake in placing the blame. I'm that sort"--he shrugged--"Phil Selwyn isn't; that's the difference--and it may be in his favour from an ethical and sentimental point of view. All right; let it go at that. But all I meant you to understand is that he is every inch a man; and when you have the honour to meet him, keep that fact in the back of your head, among the few brains with which Providence has equipped you."
"Thanks!" said Gerald, colouring up. He cast his cigarette into the empty fireplace, slid off the edge of the table, and picked up his hat. Austin eyed him without particular approval.
"You buy too many clothes," he observed. "That's a new suit, isn't it?"
"Certainly," said Gerald; "I needed it."
"Oh! if you can afford it, all right. . . . How's the nimble Mr. Neergard?"
"Neergard is flourishing. We put through that Rose Valley deal. I tell you what, Austin, I wish you could see your way clear to finance one or two--"
Austin's frown cut him short.
"Oh, all right! You know your own business, of course," said the boy, a little resentfully. "Only as Fane, Harmon & Co. have thought it worth while--"
"I don't care what Fane, Harmon think," growled Austin, touching a button over his desk. His stenographer entered; he nodded a curt dismissal to Gerald, adding, as the boy reached the door:
"Your sister expects you to be on hand to-night--and so do we."
Gerald halted.
"I'd clean forgotten," he began; "I made another--a rather important engagement--"
But Austin was not listening; in fact, he had already begun to dictate to his demure stenographer, and Gerald stood a moment, hesitating, then turned on his heel and went away down the resounding marble corridor.
"They never let me alone," he muttered; "they're always at me--following me up as though I were a schoolboy. . . . Austin's the worst--never satisfied. . . . What do I care for all these functions--sitting around with the younger set and keeping the cradle of conversation rocking? I won't go to that infernal baby-show!"
He entered the elevator and shot down to the great rotunda, still scowling over his grievance. For he had made arrangements to join a card-party at Julius Neergard's rooms that night, and he had no intention of foregoing that pleasure just because his sister's first grown-up dinner-party was fixed for the same date.
As for this man Selwyn, whom he had never met, he saw no reason why he should drop business and scuttle uptown in order to welcome him. No doubt he was a good fellow; no doubt he had behaved very decently in a matter which, until a few moments before, he had heard little about. He meant to be civil; he'd look up Selwyn when he had a chance, and ask him to dine at the club. But this afternoon he couldn't do it; and, as for the evening, he had made his arrangements, and he had no intention of disturbing them on Austin's account.
When he reached his office he picked up the telephone and called up Gerard's house; but neither his sister nor anybody else was there except the children and servants, and Captain Selwyn had not yet called. So he left no message, merely saying that he'd call up again. Which he forgot to do.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Captain Selwyn was sauntering along Fifth Avenue under the leafless trees, scanning the houses of the rich and great across the way; and these new houses of the rich and great stared back at him