When Sir Roderick Ayre returned to England, he had to undergo much questioning concerning his dealings with Stafford. It had somehow become known throughout the little group of people interested in Stafford's abortive love-affair that he and Ayre had held conference together, and the impression was that Ayre's counsel had, to some extent at least, shaped Stafford's resolution and conduct. Ayre did not talk freely on the matter. He fenced with the idle inquiries of the Territon brothers; he calmed Mrs. Lane's solicitude with soothing words; he put Morewood off with a sneer at the transitoriness of love-affairs in general. To Eugene he spoke more openly, and did not hesitate to congratulate himself on the part he had taken in reconciling Stafford to life and work. Eugene cordially agreed with his point of view; and Ayre felt that he was in a fair way to be rid of the matter, when one day Claudia sprang upon him with a new assault. He had come to see her, and tender hearty congratulations. He felt that the successful issue of Eugene's suit was in some degree his own work, and he was well pleased that his two favorites should have taken to one another. Moreover, he reaped intellectual satisfaction from the fulfillment of a prophecy made when its prospect of realization seemed very scant. Claudia admitted her own pleasure in her engagement, and did not attempt to deny that her affection had dated from a period when by all the canons of propriety she should have had no thoughts of Eugene. "We are not responsible for our emotions," she said, laughing; "and you will admit I behaved with the utmost decorum." "About your usual decorum," he replied. "The situation was difficult." "It was indeed," she sighed. "Eugene was so very--well, reckless. But I want to ask you something." "Say on." "I heard about your interview with Father Stafford; what did you say to him?" "Of course Eugene has told you all I told him?" "Probably. I told him to." "Well, that's all." "In fact, you told him I wasn't worth fretting about!" "Not in that personal way. I asserted a general principle, and reluctantly denied that you were an exception." "I hope you did tell him I wasn't worth it, and very plainly. But hasn't he gone back to his religious work?" "I think he will." "Did you advise him to do that?" "Yes, certainly. It's what he's most fit for, and I told him so." "He spoke to me as if--as if he had no religion left." "Yes, it took him in that way. He'll get over that." "I think you were wrong to tell him to go back. Didn't you encourage him to go back to the work without feeling the religion?" "Perhaps I did. Did Eugene tell you that?" "Yes." "I'll never say anything to a lover again." "Didn't you tell him to use his work for personal ends--for ambition, and so on?" "Oh, in a way. I had to stir him up--I had to tide him over a bad hour." "That was very wrong. It was teaching him to degrade himself."