Too, he had begun to show a peculiar pride in the commercial development of Gerald, speaking often of his gratifying application to business, the stability of his modest position, the friends he was making among men of substance, their regard for him. "Not that the boy is doing much of a business yet," he would say with a tolerant shrug of his big fleshy shoulders, "but he's laying the foundation for success--a good, upright, solid foundation--with the doubtful scheming of Neergard left out"--at that time Neergard had not yet gone to pieces, physically--"and I expect to aid him when aid is required, and to extend to him, judiciously, such assistance, from time to time, as I think he may require. . . . There's one thing--" Austin puffed once or twice at his cigar and frowned; and Selwyn, absently watching the dying embers on the hearth, waited in silence. "One thing," repeated Austin, reaching for the tongs and laying a log of white birch across the coals; "and that is Gerald's fondness for pretty girls. . . . Not that it isn't all right, too, but I hope he isn't going to involve himself--hang a millstone around his neck before he can see his way clear to some promise of a permanent income based on--" "Pooh!" said Selwyn. "What's that?" demanded Austin, turning red. Selwyn laughed. "What did you have when you married my sister?" Austin, still red and dignified, said: "Your sister is a very remarkable woman--extremely unusual. I had the good sense to see that the first time I ever met her." "Gerald will see the same thing when his time comes," said Selwyn quietly. "Don't worry, Austin; he's sound at the core." Austin considered his cigar-end, turning it round and round. "There's good stock in the boy; I always knew it--even when he acted like a yellow pup. You see, Phil, that my treatment of him was the proper treatment. I was right in refusing to mollycoddle him or put up with any of his callow, unbaked impudence. You know yourself that you wanted me to let up on him--make all kinds of excuses. Why, man, if I had given him an inch leeway he'd have been up to his ears in debt. But I was firm. He saw I'd stand no fooling. He didn't dare contract debts which he couldn't pay. So now, Phil, you can appreciate the results of my attitude toward him." "I can, indeed," said Selwyn thoughtfully. "I think I've made a man of him," persisted Austin. "He's certainly a manly fellow," nodded Selwyn. "You admit it?" "Certainly, Austin." "Well, I'm glad of it. You thought me harsh--oh, I know you did!--but I don't blame you. I knew what I was about. Why, Phil, if I hadn't taken the firm stand I took that boy would have been running to Nina and Eileen--he did go to his sister once, but he never dared try it again!--and he'd probably have borrowed money of Neergard and--by Jove! he might even have come to you to get him out of his scrapes!" "Oh, scarcely that," protested Selwyn with grave humour.