"
Selwyn appeared not to hear him: "Come on, Gerald," he said pleasantly;
"Mrs. Ruthven is going over to the _Niobrara_--"
"For God's sake," whispered Gerald, white as a sheet, "don't force me
into trouble with Neergard."
Selwyn turned on him an astonished gaze: "Are you _afraid_ of that
whelp?"
"Yes," muttered the boy--"I--I'll explain later. But don't force things
now, I beg you."
Mrs. Ruthven coolly leaned over and spoke to Gerald in a low voice;
then, to Selwyn, she said with a smile: "Rosamund and I are going to
Brookminster, anyway, so you and Gerald need not wait. . . . And thank
you for coming over. It was rather nice of you"--she glanced insolently
at Neergard--"considering the crowd we're with. _Good_-night, Captain
Selwyn! _Good_-night, Gerald. So very jolly to have seen you again!"
And, under her breath to Selwyn: "You need not worry; I am going in a
moment. Good-bye and--thank you, Phil. It _is_ good to see somebody of
one's own caste again."
A few moments later, Selwyn and Gerald in their oilskins were dashing
eastward along the coast in the swiftest motor-boat south of the
Narrows.
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