“Now, of course,” she continued, “of course a woman can’t know all the ins and outs of a young man’s life, even when she’s his mother. It’s out of the question; and to be very frank with you”--there was something painful now about the lightness of her tone--“his mother had to be rather autocratic, and the boy didn’t much like it. Consequently I can’t feel sure that--well, that she knows even as much as she might about his affairs, now! That’s why I’m confiding in you in this expansive way! I want you to look after him for me!” Loring changed his position, and nodded again gravely and comprehendingly. “I understand!” he said slowly. “I understand!” The statement was true in far wider sense than Mrs. Romayne could be aware of. There was a moment’s silence, during which he seemed to deliberate deeply on the facts presented to him, watched intently by Mrs. Romayne; and then he roused himself, as it were. “I won’t say that your confidence in me gives me great pleasure,” he said, “because I hope you know that. I will simply say that I will do all I can!” The words were admirably spoken, with a gentleness and consideration of tone and manner which were all the more striking from their contrast with his usual demeanour; and they carried an impression of strength and sympathy such as no woman could have resisted. A strange spasm as of intense relief passed across Mrs. Romayne’s face, and for the moment she did not speak. Then she said low and hurriedly: “I have heard that he plays, and it--it worries me! A boy will often listen to a friend whom he respects, and--and--I rely on you.” “I consider myself honoured!” A pause followed, and then Loring continued with an easy seriousness which was very reassuring: “I am very glad to know all this, for it gives me a key, without which I might have blundered considerably! To return confidence for confidence, and to assure you that I really have some power to help you, I will say that I made a little discovery about Julian yesterday which perplexed me a good deal. I shall know now how to act. If he must speculate----” He was interrupted. The daintily coloured face before him changed suddenly and terribly; a ghastly reality that lay behind that expression of carelessness seemed on the instant to crash through all veils and masks as Mrs. Romayne rose to her feet with a hoarse cry, her face drawn and working, her hands stretched out as though to ward off something unendurably horrible. “No!” she gasped, and she was absolutely fighting and struggling for breath, as though something clutched at her throat. “Not that! oh, good heavens, not that! You must stop it! You must prevent it. He must not! He must not! Do you hear me? He must not!” There are some natures which not even contact with throbbing, vibrating reality can touch or thrill, and Loring, surprised, indeed, had risen also, cynical, imperturbable, and cool-headed as usual.