“Yes.” “Some of those bar girls are very pretty; rather dangerous, though, I should think.” “They seemed to me to be very nice girls; you would be surprised if you heard them talk. I assure you the one that sat next to me spoke just like a lady. You know in these hard times people must do something. Lots of ladies have to buckle to and work for their bread.” Frank lapsed into silence. Willy sat apparently watching the blue and green spectacle of the sea. Frank knew that it interested him not the least, and he wondered if his friend had heard what he had been saying. Triss, seeing that smelling and fighting were equally vain endeavours, had laid himself out in the sun, and he returned his master's caresses by deep growls. One more menacing than the others woke Willy from his meditation, and he said: “What's the time? It ought to be getting on to lunch time.” “I daresay it is.” “Where shall we go? Do you know of a good place? What about that restaurant opposite the pier?” “Well,” said Willy, with a short, abrupt laugh, “the fact is, I must lunch at my office; but I shall be very glad if you will come.” “I didn't know you had an office--an office for what?” “I started an agency at the beginning of the year for artificial manure, but I think I shall drop it. I am arranging to go on the Stock Exchange. The difficulty is whether I shall be able to get my father to allow me to take enough money out of the business.” “What business?” “The distillery.” “Oh, but what about this office? Why are you obliged to lunch at your office? Are you expecting customers? I know nothing about that sort of thing.” “No, I wish I were. The fact is, my missis is staying in Brighton for a few weeks. The child has been ailing a good deal lately, and the doctor ordered change of air.” “Child! Missis! I know nothing of this.” “A very nice woman, I think you'll like her. She is devoted to me. We've been together now two years or more, I can't say exactly, I should have to refer to my diary.” “But the child?” “The child isn't mine. She had the child before I knew her.” “And what is the matter with it?” “Curvature of the spine. The doctor says she will outgrow it. Cissy will be quite strong and healthy although she may never have what you would call a good figure. But there is a matter on which I want to speak to you. The fact is, I am going to be married.” “To whom?” “To the lady whom you will see at lunch, Cissy's mother.” Frank said: “If you really love her I have nothing to say against it.” Willy did not answer. Frank waited for an answer and then broke the silence: “But do you love her?” “Yes, I am very fond of her; she is a very good sort.” Frank was implacable. “Do you love her like the other one?” The question wounded, but Frank was absorbed in his own special sentimentalities. “I was younger then, it is not the same; I am getting old. How many years older am I than you--seven, I think? You are three-and-twenty, I am thirty. How time flies!”