"I don't know whether it's because I'm rather exalted, rather morbid, in my reaction against my momentary levity, that he strikes me as so far from being a booby that I really think what he has engaged to do is very fine. If without intending it, and in ignorance of the social perspective of a country not his own, he has appeared to go so far that they have had a right to expect he would go further, he's willing to pay the penalty. Poor fellow, he pays for all of us."
"Surely he's very meek," said Mrs. Rushbrook. "He's what you call a muff."
"Que voulez-vous? He's simple—he's generous."
"I see what you mean—I like that."
"You would like him if you knew him. He has acted like a gallant gentleman—from a sense of duty."
"It is rather fine," Mrs. Rushbrook murmured.
"He's too good for Veronica," I continued.
"And you want me to tell her so?"
"Well, something of that sort. I want you to arrange it."
"I'm much obliged—that's a fine large order!" my companion laughed.
"Go and see Mrs. Goldie, intercede with her, entreat her to let him go, tell her that they really oughtn't to take advantage of a momentary aberration, an extravagance of magnanimity."
"Don't you think it's your place to do all that?"
"Do you imagine it would do any good—that they would release him?" I demanded.
"How can I tell? You could try. Is Veronica very fond of him?" Mrs. Rushbrook pursued.
"I don't think any of them can really be very fond of any one who isn't 'smart.' They want certain things that don't belong to Wilmerding at all—to his nation-