Freed from this dread, I fell into an extreme of garrulity that landed me in a quagmire of discomfiture. After I had thus talked for a while, rather disconnectedly, he interrupted me. “Renny,” he said, “you’re pretty fond of the girl, aren’t you?” I heard him with a little shock of surprise. “Not that I care,” he went on, airily, “except for your sake, old boy.” “What do you mean?” I said. “We’re up to a thing or two, aren’t we?” said he, “but she’s fifty tricks to our one.” “She has her good points, Jason.” “Oh, yes; lots of them. So many that it hardly seems worth while noticing her setting you up against me.” “She’s never done anything of the sort!” I cried, hotly. “Hasn’t she? Well, that’s all right, and we can be chums again. I only wanted to warn you against putting faith in a chit that can wear a new face easier than her dress, to you, or Modred, or--or any one.” “Modred!” I cried, in astonishment. “Oh, don’t suppose,” he said, “that you’re sole lord of her heart.” “I never did suppose it,” I answered, thickly. “Why should I? She’s free to fancy whom she likes”--but my heart sunk within me. “Yes; that’s the way to look at it,” he said. “You wouldn’t think she could find much to admire in that fatty, now, would you?” “How do you know she does?” “I do know--that’s enough.” “Well, isn’t he a sort of brother to her?” I said--with a courageous effort--“as we all are.” “Of course. That’s it.” “And I don’t know what you mean by ‘any one’ else.” “Don’t you?” He laughed and flung away a stone he had been idly playing with. “Well, I meant Modred, or--or any one else.” “Who else?” “Dad, say--or Dr. Crackenthorpe.” “Oh, you’re an idiot!” I cried; “I won’t talk to you”--and I left him and ran indoors. But he had driven the sting home and the poison already worked furiously in me. How can I explain why? It was true, what he had said, every word of it. She had set me against him, Jason--not in words, but by a tacit conviction of him as one who had of his own act bared his soul momentarily, and revealed a sinister brand across it hitherto unguessed at. Well, this was the first waking from the boyish dream, and should I ever dream it again? I had said we were all in a manner her brothers, and that she was free to smile on whom she chose. What a pitiful handful of dust for all eyes but my own! I felt the passion of longing for her single love surge in me as I spoke. I had never till that moment dreamed of combating another for possession of it. She had seemed mine by right of fortune’s gift from the first, nor had she by her behavior appeared to question the right. We had confidences, discussions, little secrets together, which none but we might share in. We walked and talked and leaned toward one another, with a sense of mutual understanding that was pathetic, I am sure--at least as to my share in it--in God’s eyes.