Pshaw! there were perhaps, a dozen women who dined with Brady, he insisted reassuringly, and for the matter of that, there were probably a dozen Bradys.

The name was common enough, and the only decent thing to do was to get rid of the suspicion and to apologise to Connie in his thoughts.

To impute a low motive to a simple action had always seemed to him the vulgarity of littleness, and littleness in a man he had come to look upon as a kind of passive vice.

So until the event proved the necessity of action, he was determined that there should be no "black bats" among his thoughts.

Had he loved Connie there might have been perhaps more passion and less conscience in his treatment of the situation, but the humour of the philosopher had for many years replaced in his nature the ardour of the lover.