Reminding her that Tims, the chauffeur, would soon be at the door to take him to the bank, Collingham sank into the armchair nearest to the bed. His thoughts were on the amount in the proposed issue of Paraguayan bonds the house would be able to carry. "It’s about Bob," she began, in a tone little more than casual. "Did you know he was in a scrape?" He started, firing off his brief questions rapidly: "Who? Bob? What kind of scrape? With a girl?" "Exactly. With a girl who may give us a good deal of trouble unless the thing is stopped." If Collingham’s heart sank it was not wholly because of the scrape with the girl, but because he was afraid of chickens coming home to roost. Though he had never broached the subject with the boy, he had often wondered as to how he met sexual temptation; and now he was to learn. "Is it anything very wrong?" "Only in intention." She sipped her coffee before letting him have the full force of it. "He wants to marry her." He felt some slight relief. "Oh, then it’s not—" "No; not as far as he’s concerned. As to her—well I presume that she’s the usual type." "Did he tell you himself?" "He told me himself." "His job at the bank pays him only two thousand dollars a year. Did he say what else he expected to marry on?" "We didn’t discuss that; but I suppose it would be what he expects you to give him." "And if I don’t give him anything?" "That’s what I wanted to know. If you didn’t—" "He’d call it off?" "No; perhaps not. But she would." "Have you any special reason for thinking so?" "None but my knowledge of—of that kind of woman in general." She went on as quietly as if the incident of fifteen years previously had never occurred. "Men are so guileless about women who have—who have love to sell. They’re such simpletons. They so easily think these women like them for themselves when all the while they’re only gauging the measure of the pocketbook." Collingham endeavored not to hang his head, but it seemed to go down in spite of him as the placid voice sketched his program for the day. Junia had heard her husband say that Mr. Huntley, his second in command, was to go to South America in connection with the issue of Paraguayan bonds. Why shouldn’t Bob be sent with him? It would add to his experience and make him feel important. After he had left Asuncion, reasons could be found for keeping him at Lima, Rio, or Buenos Aires till the whole thing blew over. Having accepted the suggestion gratefully, Collingham came to the question he had up to now repressed. "Who’s the girl? I suppose you know." "She’s been posing for Hubert Wray. Bob met her at the studio. Her name is—" Grasping the arms of the chair, he strained forward. "Not—not Follett’s girl?" "Yes; that _is_ the name. You dismissed her father from the bank last year." Her eyes followed him as he stumbled to his feet. "But what difference does it make whether it’s she or some one else?"