What if he and Eugene met?
Ayre had not much faith in the power of friendship under such circumstances.
"I think, on the whole, that I'd better show you a letter I've had," he said.

"Mind you, I take no responsibility for what you do." "Nobody wants you to," said Eugene, with a smile.

"We all understand that's your position." Ayre flung the letter over to him and he read it.
"Oh, by Jove, this is the devil!" he exclaimed, jumping off the writing-table, where he had seated himself.
"So Morewood seems to think." "Poor old fellow! I say, what shall I do?
Poor old Stafford! Fancy his cutting up like this." "It's kind of you to pity him." "What do you mean?
I say, Ayre, you don't think there is anything in it ?" "Anything in it ?" "You don't think there's any chance that Claudia likes him ?" "Haven't an idea one way or the other," said Ayre rather disingenuously.
Eugene looked very perturbed.
"You see," continued Ayre, "it's pretty cool of you to assume the girl is in love with you when she knew you were engaged to somebody else up to a month ago." "Oh, damn it, yes!" groaned Eugene; "but she knew old Stafford had sworn not to marry anybody." "And she knew--of course she knew--you both wanted to marry her.

I wonder what she thought of both of you!" "She never had any idea of the sort about him.

About me she may have had an inkling." "Just an inkling, perhaps," assented Sir Roderick.
"The worst of it is, you know, if she does like me I shall feel a brute, cutting in now.