Tony chattered all the way down to the hall. “The Lesters are ripping. We’ve known Milly Lester ever since the beginning of time. She’s not much older than me, you know, and we lived next door to each other in Carrington Gardens. Our prams always went out and round the Square together, and we used to say goo-goo to each other. Then later on I used to make up stories for her. She was always awfully keen on stories and I was rather a nailer at them; then we used to fight, and I slapped her face and she pinched me. Then we went to the panto together, and used to dance with each other at Christmas parties. I was never in love with her, you know: she was just a jolly good sort whom I liked to be with. She’s always up to a rag; _he_ thinks it’s a little too often. He’s a solemn sort of beggar and jolly serious, lives more in his books than out of them, which doesn’t make for sociability. Rather hard luck on her.” “What was his attraction for her?” asked Maradick. “Oh, I don’t know,” said Tony; “she admired his books awfully and made the mistake of thinking that the man was like them. So he is, in a way; it’s as if you’d married the books, you know, and there wasn’t anything else there except the leather.” They were silent for a little time, and then Tony said, “On a day like this one’s afraid—‘Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes,’ you know—it’s all _too_ beautiful and wonderful and makes such a splendid background for the adventure that we’re on the edge of.” “Adventure?” said Maradick. “Yes; you haven’t forgotten the other night, have you? I’ve been waiting for you to speak to me about it. And then this afternoon I saw it was all right. My asking you to come out was a kind of test, only I knew you’d say yes. I knew that mother had been talking to you about it. About me and whether you’d help me? Wasn’t it?” “That’s between your mother and myself,” said Maradick. “Well, it was, all the same. And you said yes. And it’s ripping, it’s just what I so especially wanted. They’ve all been wondering what I’m up to. Of course they could see that something was up; and they’re simply longing to know all about it, the others out of curiosity and mother because she cares. It isn’t a bit curiosity with her, you know, it’s only that she wants to know that I’m safe, and now that she’s stuck you, whom she so obviously trusts, as a kind of bodyguard over me she’ll be comfortable and won’t worry any more. It’s simply splendid—that she won’t worry and that you said yes.” He paused and stood in the path, looking at Maradick. “Because, you know,” he went on, with that charming, rather crooked little smile that he had, “I do most awfully want you for a friend quite apart from its making mother comfortable. You’re just the chap to carry it through; I’m right about it’s being settled, aren’t I?” Maradick held out his hand.