You should know that, at
least."
"I believe that he is," Aynesworth answered. "I can tell you that
much, at least, without breach of faith. So far as one who watches him
can tell, he lives for his own gratification--and his indulgence in it
does not, as a rule, make for the happiness of other people."
"Then what does he want with us?" she asked almost sharply. "I ask
myself that question until--I am terrified."
Aynesworth hesitated.
"It is very possible," he said, "that he is simply making use of you
to re-enter the world. Curiously enough, he has never seemed to care
for solitude. He makes numberless acquaintances. What pleasure he
finds in it I do not know, but he seldom avoids people. He may be
simply making use of you."
"What do you think yourself?"
"I cannot tell," Aynesworth answered. "Indeed I cannot tell."
She left him a little impatiently, and Aynesworth joined the outside
of the circle of men who had gathered round Wingrave. He was answering
their questions readily enough, if a little laconically. He was quite
aware that he occupied in society the one unique place to which
princes might not even aspire--there was something of divinity about
his millions, something of awe in the tone of the men with whom he
talked. Women pretended to be interested in him because of the romance
of his suddenly acquired wealth--the men did not trouble to deceive
themselves or anyone else.
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