“Anna’s father knows, and he’s been awfully decent about it,” said Johnny, “and I’d like you to know too, Mr. Reeder.” Mr. Reeder murmured something congratulatory. That matter of love and loving was at any rate shelved. “And Desboyne has been awfully decent--I told Anna all about that rather unpleasant little scene you witnessed--he never told her a word. He wrote apologizing to Anna, and wrote an apology to me. He has offered me a very good position in Singapore if I care to take it--he’s terribly rich, and it sounds very good.” “It doesn’t sound good to me.” Anna’s voice was decisive. “I appreciate Clive’s generosity, but I don’t think he ought to give up his Civil Service work except for something better in England. I want you to persuade him, Mr. Reeder.” Mr. Reeder looked from one to the other dismally. The idea of persuading anybody to do anything in which he himself was not greatly absorbed filled him with dismay. As a mentor to the young he recognized his limitations. He liked Johnny Southers as he liked any decent young fellow. He thought Anna Welford was extraordinarily pretty; but even these two facts in conjunction could not arouse him to enthusiasm. “I don’t want much persuading,” said Johnny, to his relief. “I’ve got something else up my sleeve--a pretty big thing. I’m not at liberty to talk about it; in fact, I’ve been asked not to. If that comes off, the Singapore job will be refused. It isn’t so very difficult now. The point is this, Mr. Reeder: if you were offered a partnership in a thriving concern, that could be made into something very big if one put one’s heart and soul into it, would you accept?” Mr. Reeder looked at the ceiling and sighed. “Hypotheses always worry me, Mr. Southers. Perhaps, when the moment comes, if you could tell me all about the business, I may be able to advise you, although I confess I have never been regarded as a man whose advice was worth two--um--hoots.” “That’s what I wanted to see you about, Mr. Reeder.” Anna nodded slowly. “I’m so terribly afraid of Johnny leaving the service for an uncertainty, and I do want him to talk the matter over with you. I don’t want to know his secrets”--there was the ghost of a smile in her eyes--“I think I know most of them that count.” Mr. Reeder looked round miserably. He felt himself caught and entangled in a network of dull domesticity. He was, if the truth be told, immensely bored, and, had he been more temperamental, he might have screamed. He wished he had not overtaken these loitering lovers, or that they would apply to one of those periodicals which maintain a department devoted to advising the young and the sentimental in the choice of their careers. It was with the greatest happiness that he closed the door upon their small mystery and devoted himself to the serious business of high tea.