This, of course, annoyed Philip, who always liked to feel, after a conversation with anyone, that “everything had gone off all right”. Had it not been for Katherine, he would not have bothered with the fellow. Another thing puzzled and even alarmed Philip. Henry would often, when he thought that he was unwatched, stare at Philip in a perplexed brooding fashion with a look in his eye that said: “I’ll find out one day all right. You think that no one’s watching you, that I’m not worth anyone’s trouble.... You wait and see.” Henry would look at Philip’s buttons, studs, tie, handkerchief with this same puzzled stare. It was another side of that surveillance of which Philip had been conscious ever since Tim Flaunder’s visit to his rooms. “Ah!” thought Philip, “once I’m married, they can watch as much as they like.... A year’s a long time though.” He decided then to cultivate Henry and to know the boy better. “I’ll show him that there’s nothing in me to be suspicious about—that I’m worthy of marrying his sister. I’ll make a friend of him.” He asked George Trenchard whether he might give Henry an evening. “Take him out to dinner and a music-hall. I’ll look after him.” Trenchard said: “My dear fellow, if you can make Henry look something like an ordinary civilised being we’ll all be in your debt for ever. I don’t envy you your job ... but, of course, do what you like with him.” When Philip told Mrs. Trenchard she said: “How nice for Henry! How kind of you to bother with the boy! He goes out so little. How nice for Henry!” When Philip asked Henry himself, Henry coloured crimson, looked at his boots, muttered something about shirts, stammered “Thanks ... very glad ... awful bore for you”, and finally stumbled from the room. Philip thought Jules for dinner, The Empire, The Carlton for supper. Katherine’s delight when he told her compensated him for all the effort of the undertaking.