Bertie stamped furiously. "That's all very well, but--dash it, Lucas, you're always holding me back. And I can't knock under to you in this. I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm going to have it out with Nap. Whatever you may say, it is more my business than yours." He would have flung round with the words, but his brother's hand was still upon him, restraining him. He paused, chafing. "You must let me go. I shall hurt you if you don't." "You will hurt me if I do, boy," Lucas made grave reply. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't help it. There are times when a man--if he is a man--must act for himself. And I--" he broke off, still chafing, his hand seeking without violence to free him from that hold which could not have been so very powerful, though it resisted his efforts. "Luke," he said suddenly, and the anger was gone from his voice, "let me go, old chap. You must let me go. It isn't right--it isn't just to--to take advantage of being--what you are." The quick falter in the words deprived them of any sting, yet on the instant Lucas's hand fell, setting him free. "All right, Bertie! Go!" he said. And Bertie went--three steps, and halted. Lucas remained motionless before the fire. He was not so much as looking at him. Several seconds passed in silence. Then impulsively Bertie turned. His lips were quivering. He went straight back to the quiet figure on the hearth, lifted the free arm, and drew it boyishly round his neck. "Old chap, forgive me!" he said. "For what you haven't done?" Lucas asked, with a very kindly smile. "For being an unconscionable brute!" Bertie said, with feeling. "I didn't mean, it, old man. I didn't mean it!" "Oh, shucks, dear fellow! Don't be such a silly ass! It's demoralising for all concerned." Lucas Errol's hand pressed his shoulder admonishingly. "She's a nice little girl, Bertie. I've taken a kind of fancy to her myself." Bertie looked up quickly. "Luke, you're a brick!" Lucas shook his head. "But you mustn't ask her yet, lad. She's not ready for it. I'm not sure that you are ready for it yourself." Bertie's face fell. "Why not? I'm in dead earnest. I want to marry her, just as soon as she will have me." "Quite so," drawled Nap, from the depths of the lounge behind him. "And she, I doubt not, wants to marry you--even sooner, if possible." He had come up in his noiseless fashion unobserved. Attired in evening dress, slim, sleek, well-groomed, he lay at full length and gazed up at the two brothers, a malicious glitter in his eyes. He held an unlighted cigarette between his fingers. "Pray don't let me interrupt, Lucas," he said airily, ignoring Bertie's sharp exclamation, which was not of a pacific nature. "I always enjoy seeing you trying to teach the pride of the Errols not to make a fool of himself. It's a gigantic undertaking, isn't it? Let me know if you require any assistance." He placed the cigarette between his lips and felt for some matches.