Bolton-Brown turned his head; he looked at Hugh a minute through the fresh darkness. "It does make a difference to me. But I don't understand," he added. "Neither do I. I don't like it. It's a pretence, a temporary make-believe, to help Beaupré through." "Through what?" "He's so run after." The young American stared, ejaculated, mused. "Oh, yes--your mother told me." "It's a sort of invention of my mother's and a notion of his own (very absurd, I think) till he can see his way. Mary serves as a kind of escort for these first exposed months. It's ridiculous, but I don't know that it hurts her." "Oh!" said Bolton-Brown. "I don't know either that it does her any good." "No!" said Bolton-Brown. Then he added: "It's certainly very kind of her." "It's a case of old friends," Hugh explained, inadequately as he felt. "He has always been in and out of our house." "But how will it end?" "I haven't the least idea." Bolton-Brown was silent; he faced about to the stern again and stared at the rush of the ship. Then shifting his position once more: "Won't the engagement, before they've done, develop into the regular thing?" Hugh felt as if his mother were listening. "I daresay not. If there were even a remote chance of that, Mary wouldn't have consented." "But mayn't _he_ easily find that--charming as she is--he's in love with her?" "He's too much taken up with himself." "That's just a reason," said Bolton-Brown. "Love is selfish." He considered a moment longer, then he went on: "And mayn't _she_ find--?" "Find what?" said Hugh, as he hesitated. "Why, that she likes him." "She likes him of course, else she wouldn't have come to his assistance. But her certainty about herself must have been just what made her not object to lending herself to the arrangement. She could do it decently because she doesn't seriously care for him. If she did--!" Hugh suddenly stopped. "If she did?" his friend repeated. "It would have been odious." "I see," said Bolton-Brown gently. "But how will they break off?" "It will be Mary who'll break off." "Perhaps she'll find it difficult." "She'll require a pretext." "I see," mused Bolton-Brown, shifting his position again. "She'll find one," Hugh declared. "I hope so," his companion responded. For some minutes neither of them spoke; then Hugh asked: "Are you in love with her?" "Oh, my dear fellow!" Bolton-Brown wailed. He instantly added: "Will it be any use for me to go back?" Again Hugh felt as if his mother were listening. But he answered: "_Do_ go back." "It's awfully strange," said Bolton-Brown. "I'll go back." "You had better wait a couple of months, you know." "Mayn't I lose her then?" "No--they'll drop it all."