He received Savile in a kind of winter garden, or conservatory at the back of his house, and went to meet him with the most charming cordiality, to put the boy at his ease. He would have been rather surprised had he known that something about his reddish hair, and his mouth open with hospitable welcome against the green background, reminded the boy irresistibly of an amiable gold-fish. "So delighted, dear boy, that you should have thought of me. Anything, of course, in the world that I could do for you, or for any of your charming family, I should look upon as a real privilege. Have a cigarette? You smoke, of course? You oughtn't to. Take this nice comfortable chair--not that one, it's horrid--and tell me all about it." "Thanks, awfully," said Savile seriously, intensely amused at his host's nervous, elaborate politeness, and trying hard to repress the inclination to laugh that Jasmyn always inspired in him. How fluttered and flattered the dear old thing seemed! Savile wasn't a bit frightened of him. "I knew you know all about things, Mr. Vere," said Savile, accepting a cigarette and a cushioned deck-chair, "and I thought I'd ask your advice about something." Jasmyn was completely at a loss. Could it be a question of a tenner? It so often was. But no, he felt sure that it was nothing quite so commonplace, or quite so simple. In a few minutes he had heard and thoroughly taken in the whole story. He was most interested, and particularly sympathetic about Sylvia, though from his own point of view--the worldly social-conventional view--she ought to have done better. As he thought it over he walked up and down the winter garden. Some birds were twittering in gold cages among the palms and plants, and every now and then he stopped to talk to them in the little language one uses to pets, which irritated Savile to the verge of madness. "I know of one thing," said Jasmyn, "and only one, that might do. I know a charming young fellow who's been ordered to travel for a year, and needs a companion. He doesn't want to go, a bit; but his relatives might be able to persuade him to, if he took a fancy to Woodville, and I'm sure he would. He's just a little mad. That would be delightful for your friend if he could get it: yachting for six months; a motoring tour in Italy; all sorts of nice things. He's a man called Newman Ferguson." "But you see, it's Woodville himself who wants a companion," said Savile. "I don't think in his present state he'd be particularly keen on being shut up alone on a yacht with a raving lunatic, and struggling with him in a padded state-room. I shouldn't think he'd do for the post. Then, I don't see how his going away for a year would help." "True, my dear boy. How clever you are! Well, I suppose I must think it over, and look round." Savile looked very disappointed. "I mustn't let you go without giving you some hope, though. I see how much your heart is in it!" said Jasmyn good-naturedly.