As Wilton was convinced that a satisfactory ending to the trouble was imminent, he naturally felt a great desire to be, somehow, the cause of Felicity's renewed happiness; to get, as it were, the credit of it. That his admiration (to put it mildly) should take the form of chivalrous devotion would be, at least, something; especially as it was evident that no other satisfaction was likely to come his way. Her one other confidant was Savile; and it struck Bertie that a kind of confederation with the boy might be a success. Besides, it would be fun.... Savile hadn't ever been cordial with him, but had retained a rather cool, ironical manner, as if suspicious of his attitude. Bertie had that peculiar vanity that consists in an acute desire to be able to please everybody. He had always felt absurdly annoyed at being unable to gain Savile's approval. And the wish to make a conquest of every one connected with Her was no doubt part of his reason for sending Savile an urgent message to come and see him immediately. He was now waiting in his rooms at Half-Moon Street for the boy's arrival. Savile had promised to come round in a reserved and cautious note, but the request had given him intense gratification and joy. He felt he really was becoming a person of importance. The instant Savile arrived he made up his mind that as soon as he was grown up and able to have rooms of his own, they should be arranged, in every particular, exactly like Wilton's. But instead of the Romney, the one picture that Bertie possessed, and which bore so striking a likeness to Felicity, he decided he would have in its place a large portrait of Madame Patti. "Look here, old boy, perhaps you think this rather cheek of me. But we both know that your sister's rather worried just now." "She _is_ a bit off colour," admitted Savile. "Well, why on earth don't you put it straight?" Savile's expression remained impassible. He said: "Think I ought?" "You're the only person who can." "All right," said Savile. "I'll write to Chetwode." "It'll take some time, writing and getting an answer," said Wilton. "No good expecting an answer," said Savile. "He's the sort of chap who never writes letters unless they're unnecessary." "And Lady Chetwode will be in a hurry," observed Bertie. "You know her pretty well," said Savile. "Then what's your idea?" "I shall send him an enormous wire," said Savile--"he's more likely to read it than a letter--explaining the whole thing, and telling him to come home at once. I shan't ask for an answer." "Why not?" "Because I shouldn't get it." "Good. That's a capital idea. But--a--Savile, can you afford these luxuries? I couldn't have, when I was a boy at Eton.--Look here, let me----" Savile turned round and looked Wilton straight in the face. "No, thanks," he said deliberately, shaking his head. Bertie's colour rose. "But, my dear boy, why on earth not?"