"I do not think there is danger in his going to-day, but it does
seem right to tell you that poor Dermot Tracy is said to be very
extravagant, and to lead a wild life. And Harold, though I have
known him all my life, I have been thinking that it will not do for
me to be here, if this should become a resort of the set of people he
has made friends of."
Harold answered in his steady, grave way, "I see. But, Lucy, I
suppose none of them have been so bad as I have been?"--rather as if
he were wondering over the matter.
"But you belong to me," I answered, and I saw a look of real pleasure
meet my smile.
"I wish I knew what was best for Eustace," he said, after a few more
moments' thought. "Is it doing him harm for me to be here? I could
go back to New South Wales at once, only in some ways I don't think
the old fellow could get on without me, till he is more used to it
all, and in safe hands."
I had no hesitation in answering that Eustace would be much worse off
without his cousin, and that the treatment we were receiving was
chiefly on account of the fathers of both, not personal to Harold.
"Then you think it would not help him for me to leave him?"
"I think he is far more likely to live it down with you to help him."
"But, Lucy, are you being given up by all your friends for our sakes?
We did not know it meant that when we asked you to stay with us!"
"No more did I.
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