"Ha! yes--you see I've got one saving clause in my predicament. My mother says I may bring some one down with me, and I don't know who the deuce to take--for any of our fellows would ruin me in half a day with the old lady, by talking slang, or flirting with the maids, or something else." "And you want me to go and victimise myself for a week? Much obliged, I'm sure." "Nonsense, Markworth. By Jove! that's a ripping hazard in the middle pocket; you've got the red in baulk, too, and the game's all in your hands. You are really the only fellow I'd ask, and it would be a perfect godsend to have you. It won't be so dull for the two of us together, and I'm sure you'll be able to pull me out of many a scrape with the old lady, for she's just your sort, and you can tackle her like one o'clock; only talk to her about the `Ologies' old country families, and the peerage, and you'll be all right. She never speaks of anything else. Besides, there's a Miss Kingscott down there--a governess, or companion, or something of the sort to my sister--whom I've never yet seen, as she only came there this year. I daresay you can make love to her." "Thank you, especially after the warning about the maids!" "But you'll come, won't you?" "I can't promise, Tom. There, that stroke ends the game; let's finish billiards: they're too slow. What are you going to do to-night, Tom?" "A lot of us are going to have a quiet little dinner party at Lane's. The old colonel has been awfully jolly, and let away nearly the whole squad on leave together. Will you come? There'll be Harrowby, Miles-- in fact all the boys. We'll have lansquenette afterwards, and then you and I can talk over about running down to the country. Do come, there's a good fellow." "Well, I will; what time do you dine?" "Sharp seven; so don't be late." "I'll be there. Ta-ta, now, for I've got a lot of letters to write. I'm stopping at the `Tavistock' by the way, in case I don't turn up and you want to find me." They had emerged from the billiard-room, and now stood in the street. "But you must come, I shall expect you and will take no excuse. I'm going to call on some jolly girls whom I met at the Woolwich hop last night. So good-bye till seven--sharp, mind!" "All right," answered the other, as Tom Hartshorne hailed a hansom, and was quickly whirled off to his destination in Bruton Street, where the Miss Inskips, two pretty and fast young ladies of the period, dwelt with their mamma, a widowed dame. Allynne Markworth was not so much a type, as a specimen, of a curious class of men constantly to be met with in London society, and of whom society knows next to nothing. No one knew where he came from, who were his progenitors, or what he did; and yet he suffered in no respect from this self-same ignorance of the world around him, in which he lived and moved and had his being, as any other of its more regular units.