He paused and lit a cigarette, while the girl stared at him gravely. “Well,” she said at length, “go on.” “It was after lunch that he got busy. He said to me: ‘Look here, Daventry, you’ve made a bally fool of yourself, but you’re not the first. I’ll write a note to Messrs. Smith and Co.’—those are the warriors who gave me the money—‘and try and persuade them to give you more time, or even possibly reduce the rate of interest.’ Of course, I was all on this, and I arranged to lunch with him again next day, after Smith and Co. had had time to function. And sure enough they did. Wrote a letter in which they were all over me; any friend of Mr. Perrison’s was entitled to special treatment, and so on and so forth. Naturally I was as bucked as a dog with two tails, and asked Perrison if I couldn’t do something more material than just thank him. And—er—he—I mean it was then he told me he knew you by sight.” He glanced at his sister, and then quickly looked away again. “He suggested—er—that perhaps I could arrange to introduce him to you; that it would be an honour he would greatly appreciate, and all that sort of rot.” The girl was sitting very still. “Yes,” she said, quietly, “and you—agreed.” “Well, of course I did. Hang it, he’s quite a decent fellow. Bit Cityish to look at, and I shouldn’t think he knows which end of a horse goes first. But he’s got me out of the devil of a hole, Sybil, and the least you can do is to be moderately decent to the bird. I mean it’s not asking much, is it? I left the governor looking at him in the hall as if he was just going to tread on his face, and that long slab—your pal—is gazing at him through his eyeglasses as if he was mad.” “He’s not my pal, Bill.” Sybil Daventry’s colour heightened a little. “Well, you asked him here, anyway,” grunted the boy. Then with a sudden change of tone he turned to her appealingly. “Syb, old girl—for the Lord’s sake play the game. You know what the governor is, and if he hears about this show—especially as it’s—as it’s not the first time—there’ll be the deuce to pay. You know he said last time that if it happened again he’d turn me out of the house. And the old man is as stubborn as a mule. I only want you to be a bit decent to Perrison.” She looked at him with a grave smile. “If Mr. Perrison is satisfied with my being decent to him, as you put it, I’m perfectly prepared to play the game. But——” She frowned and rose abruptly. “Come on, and I’ll have a look at him.” In silence they went downstairs. Tea had just been brought in, and the house-party was slowly drifting into the hall. But Sybil barely noticed them; her eyes were fixed on the man talking to her father. Or rather, at the moment, her father was talking to the man, and his remark was painfully audible. “There is a very good train back to London at seven-thirty, Mr.—ah—Mr.——”