"He was sitting in the arbour, talking to Cleone."

"Confound him!" growled Philip, as if his worst fears were realised. "What's he like?"

Sir Maurice glanced across at him.

"He is about your height—perhaps a little taller. He—ah—seems to have a soft tongue and an engaging manner."

"Oh, has he?" Philip's voice was startlingly grim.

"He and Cleone were renewing their old friendship."

"Oh, were they? What old friendship? He was never our friend!"

"No, I suppose not," said Sir Maurice innocently. "He is some six or seven years older than you, is he not?"

"Five!" said Philip emphatically.

"Only five? Of course, he looks and seems older, but he has seen more of the world, which accounts for it."

To this Philip vouchsafed no answer at all, but he looked at his father with some suspicion. Sir Maurice allowed two or three minutes to elapse before he spoke again.

"By the way, Philip, Bancroft dines with us on Wednesday."

Up sprang Philip in great annoyance.

"What's that, sir? Dines here, and on Wednesday? Surely you did not invite the fellow?"

"But I did," answered Sir Maurice blandly. "Why not?"

"Why not? What do we want with him?"

"It remains to be seen." Sir Maurice hid a smile. "Bancroft is most desirous of meeting you."

Philip made a sound betwixt a grunt and a snort.

"More like he wishes to pursue his acquaintance with Cl—Mistress Cleone," he retorted.

"Well, she's a pretty piece," said his father.

 Prev. P 27/162 next