Now Gordon Galorey's face changed and grew slightly white. "Don't make me angry, my dear chap," he said in a low tone; "I have said what I wanted to say. Now, go to the devil if you like and as soon as you like."

And the boy said hotly, stammering in his excitement:

"Not yet-not yet-not before I tell you what I think."

Gordon, with wonderful control of his own anger, met the boy's eyes, and said with great patience:

"No, don't, Dan; don't go on. There are many things in this affair that we can't touch upon. Let it drop. The right woman would make a ripping man of you, but you oughtn't to marry for ten years."

Dan took the hand which Galorey put out to him, and the Englishman said warmly: "My dear chap, I hope it will all come out right, from my heart."

Dan, who had regained his balance, said to his friend:

"I've been very angry at what you said, but you're the chap my father sent me to. There must be something back of this, and I'm going to find out what it is, and I'm going to take my own way to find out. I wouldn't give a rap for anything that came to me through a trick or a lie, and I wouldn't know how to go to her with a c.o.c.k-and-bull story. I shall act as I feel and go ahead being just as I am, and perhaps she won't want me after all, even if I have got the rocks!"

And Galorey said heartily: "I wish there was a chance of it."

When, later, Gordon thought of Dan it was with a glow. "What a chip of the old block he is," he said; "what a good bit of character, even at twenty-two years." He was divided between feeling that he had made a mess of things between Dan and himself, and feeling sure that some of his advice had gone home. After a moment's silence, Dan Blair's son said: "I'm going up to London to-morrow."

"For long?"

"Don't know."

Then returning with boyish simplicity to their subject, which Galorey thought had been dropped, Dan said:

"There may be something true in what you say, Gordon. Perhaps she does want my money. I'm not a t.i.tled man and I'll never be known for anything except my income. At any rate I was rich when I asked her to marry me, and I'm going to fix up that old place of hers, and I'm glad I've got the coin to do it."

When, later, for they had been interrupted in their conversation by the entrance of the lady herself, Gordon, as Ruggles had done, mentally thought of the flowing tide of life, and how it flowed over what he himself had called "rotten ground." Perhaps old Blair was right, he mused, after all. What does it matter if the source is pure at the head water? It's awfully hard to force it at the start, at least.

CHAPTER XVI-THE MUSICALE PROGRAM

The d.u.c.h.ess ran Dan, made plans, set the pace, and they were very much in evidence during the season. The young American, good-natured and generous, the d.u.c.h.ess beautiful and knowing, were the observed of London, and those of her friends who would have tolerated Dan on account of his money, ended by sincerely liking him. The wedding-day had not been fixed as yet, and Dan was not so violently carried away that he could not wait to be married. Meanwhile Gordon Galorey thanked G.o.d for the delay and hoped for a miracle to break the spell over his friend's son before it should be too late. In early May the question came up regarding the musicale. The d.u.c.h.ess made her list and arranged the Sunday afternoon and her performers to suit her taste, and the week before lounged in her boudoir when Dan and Galorey appeared for a late morning call.

"There, Dan," she said, holding out a bit of paper, "look at the list and the program, will you?"

"Sounds and reads all right," commented Dan, handing it on to Galorey.

Besides being an artistic event, she intended that the concert should serve to present Dan to her special set. She now lit a cigarette and gave one to each of her friends, lighting the Englishman's herself.

"The best names in London," Lord Galorey said. "You see, Dan, we shall trot you out in a royal way. I hope you fully appreciate how swagger this is to be."

Glancing at the list Blair remarked:

"But I don't see Miss Lane's name?"

"Why should you?" the d.u.c.h.ess answered sharply.

"Why, we planned all along that she was to sing," he returned.

She gave a long puff to her cigarette.

"We did _rather_ speak of it. But we shall do very well as we are. The program is full up and it's perfectly ripping as it stands."

"Yes, there's only just one thing the matter with it," the boy smiled good-naturedly, "and it's easy enough to run her in. I guess Miss Lane could be run in most anywhere on any program and not clear the house."

Lord Galorey, who knew nothing about the subject under discussion, said tactfully: "Why, of course, Letty Lane is perfectly charming, but you couldn't get her, my dear chap."

"I think we will let the thing stand as it is," said the d.u.c.h.ess, going back to her desk and stirring her paper about. "It's really too late now, you know, Dan."

Unruffled, but with a determination which Lord Galorey and the lady were far from guessing, Blair resumed tranquilly:

"Oh, I guess she'll come in all right, late as it is. We'll send word to her and fix it up."

The d.u.c.h.ess turned to him, annoyed: "Oh, don't be a beastly bore, dear-you are not really serious."

Dan still smiled at her sweetly. "You bet your life I am, though, Lily."

She rang a bell at the side of her desk, and when the footman came in gave him the sheet of paper. "See that this is taken at once to the stationer's."

"Better wait, Lily"-her fiance extended his hand-"until the program is filled out the way it is going to stand." And Blair fixed his handsome eyes on his future wife. "Why, we got this shindig up," he noted irreverently, "just so Miss Lane could sing at it."

"Nonsense," she cried, angry and powerless, "you ridiculous creature!

Fancy me getting up a musicale for Letty Lane! Do tell Dan to stop bothering and fussing, Gordon. He's too ridiculous!"

And Lord Galorey said: "What is the row anyway?"

"Why, I want Miss Lane to sing here on Sunday," Dan explained....

"And I don't want her," finished the d.u.c.h.ess of Breakwater, who was evidently unwilling to force a scene before Lord Galorey. She handed the list to her servant, but Dan intercepted it.

"Don't send out that list, Lily, as it is."

He gave it back to her, and his tone was so cool, his expression so decided and quiet, that she was disarmed, and dismissed the servant, telling him to return when she should ring again. Coloring with anger, she tapped the envelope against her brilliantly polished nails.

If she had been married to Blair she would have burst into a violent rage; if he had been poorer than he was she would have put him in his place. Lord Galorey understood the contraction of her brows and lips as Dan reminded: "You promised me that you would have her, you know, Lily."

"Give in, Lily," Galorey advised, rising from the chair where he was lounging. "Give in gracefully."

And she turned on Galorey the anger which she dared not show the other man. But Dan interrupted her, explaining simply:

"I knew the girl when she was a kid: she is from my old home, and I want Lily to ask her here to sing for us, and then to see if we can't do something to get her out of the state she is in."

Galorey repeated vaguely, "State?"

"Why, she's all run down, tired out; she's got no real friends in London."