“Edgar, in this you must allow me to judge. I am quite decided that there shall be no nonsense about it. There must be no comings and goings with the Pine Croft bungalow. Think of the horrid creature, with that woman and his half-breed children! No! That is all over and done with. Of course, he may come to the house; indeed, he must come once, and we shall have him to dinner. And of course you need not cut him——” “Cut him?” exclaimed the little Colonel, sitting very straight on his horse. “Cut him? Not if I know myself! That sort of thing isn’t done, Augusta, among decent men. We must know the facts at any rate. Besides, he won’t trouble any one long. He is about done in. He’ll blow out before long.” “The sooner the better! It’s about the most decent thing he could do, under the circumstances. Oh, you may look at me! I can’t, I simply can’t work up any compassion for that man.” For some time they rode on in silence, the Colonel’s wife setting a rattling pace and refusing all conversation. As they drew near home, however, she slowed down to a walk. “Edgar, I want to speak to you quite seriously.” Her tone prepared the Colonel for the fixed and inevitable. “We shall say nothing to Paul tonight. I must have—we must have time to think. You may have thought me harsh just now, but the thing is really most perplexing and demands the most careful consideration. You can see that, Edgar?” “Certainly, my dear. Most obvious, I am sure,” replied her husband, fully convinced of impending evil. “And you will have to make clear to that—to Mr. Gaspard that all interchange of social amenities must of course cease.” “But, my dear, I don’t——” “He will at once see the propriety of the suggestion.” “He would,” muttered the Colonel. “For, after all, he is—he was a gentleman.” “Ah, that is something,” said the Colonel bitterly. “And you will have no difficulty in making clear to him that since he has deliberately chosen to outrage all the decencies of civilised society he cannot expect his friends to ignore the fact.” “Exactly,” murmured the Colonel, deeply disturbed at the prospect before him. “As for Paul——” “Yes, Paul! You can’t think——” “Please don’t catch me up that way, Edgar. As I was saying, Paul must just make his choice. He is quite old enough to understand—make his choice between his father and—and the rest of us.” “You can’t mean, Augusta, that the boy——” “Allow me to finish. You _do_ interrupt so.” “Beg pardon, I’m sure.” “I am quite prepared to receive Paul as one of our family. He is a very nice boy and will easily fit in. But there must be no coming and going——” “But, great Heaven! Augusta, you can’t mean that the boy must repudiate his father——” “Or us. I exactly do.” His wife’s voice carried the inexorable calm of fate. “It would kill him to leave his father and——” “Pooh! Let us not indulge ourselves in heroics.” “But the boy is not to blame. It is not his fault that——”