As he said this, though his face was full of frankness and kindliness once more, Charliewood felt that sick loathing of himself he had experienced just before his guest had arrived. There was a throbbing at his temples, his throat felt as if it were packed with warm flour. He hurriedly gulped down some champagne and went on. "Everybody knows by this time," he said in a quiet voice, "that--that--well, old chap, that there has been a sort of set to partners and a change in certain quarters." At that moment William appeared with the fish, Charliewood having rung for him at the psychological moment, knowing that the little interlude would give his guest time to collect his thoughts. When the man had once more left the room, Rathbone, who had been biting his lips in perplexity and drumming upon the table with his fingers, bent towards his host. "I see you know all about it," he said; "and, upon my word, if you'd let me, I should like to talk things over with you from one point of view." "My dear Rathbone," Charliewood replied, "say nothing whatever to me unless you like, but understand that what you did say would be said in absolute confidence, and that if the experience of a man older in social life, and accustomed to all its vagaries, can help you, I give it to you with all my heart." "Now I call that very good of you, Charliewood," the young man answered. "I'll tell you straight out, what you probably already know, and I'll ask you for a hint as to what I ought to do. Miss Poole"--he mentioned the name with obvious reluctance--"has found that she made an--er, well, a sort of mistake in her affections. I have no doubt it's all over London that she's written to Sir William Gouldesbrough telling him so." "Throwing him over, in fact," Charliewood said. "If you like to put it so," the other answered, "and of course that is just what it amounts to." "Well then?" Charliewood said. "I feel in a sort of way that I've done an awfully caddish thing," Rathbone went on. "Fortunately, I am not in Gouldesbrough's set. I don't know him at all. At the same time it's awfully bad form to make love to a girl who's engaged to any one else. And that, unconsciously, is just what I seem to have been doing for a very long time. But, believe me," he concluded with a singular simplicity and boyishness, "I really couldn't help it." Charliewood laughed a little and then sighed to himself. "I quite understand," he said; "these things do and will happen, and it wasn't your fault at all. But I do think it's very wrong if a girl who finds that she has made a mistake doesn't put it right before it becomes unavoidable." "Do you really?" Rathbone cried. "Well, do you know, that's just my point of view, and it relieves me to hear you say so." "And do you know," Charliewood replied, "that I'm probably the most intimate friend William Gouldesbrough has in the world?"