“I do,” was his unabashed affirmative. “Nice, comfortable, elevating palliness with you; and a right down rollicking bust-up occasionally with the ladies of the unpretending school of wild oats.” “I want my giant for the present to be satisfied with his palliness with me and his work. Do you think he will?” “As I haven’t seen him I can’t say. If I get the chance, however, I’ll tell him that ‘wild oats’ are the very devil, and I’d give all I’ve got to have stuck to work and had naught to do with ’em.” “You know you wouldn’t, Flip,” with a little laugh. “I know I couldn’t, you mean; but I never admit it to juniors.” “Well, you shall come to the flat to meet him. If he gets a brief, we’ll have a little dinner party, and I’ll ask Hal and her cousin and St. Quintin.” “Right you are. I haven’t seen Miss Pritchard for ages. Shall we turn now, and go back by Rottingdean?” “Let us go whichever way has the best view of the sea. I feel I want to look at wide, breezy spaces for a while, and not talk at all.” “You shall,” he promised, and they sped along in silence. CHAPTER XVII When Hall sat on the side of her bed, brushing her hair and meditating on her irritation, she had not misjudged when she anticipated great enjoyment from an afternoon run with her new friend. It would have been difficult indeed to say who enjoyed it the most. Hal was in great form, and Sir Edwin Crathie half unconsciously took his tone from her, dropping his usual attitude towards women he liked, and adopting instead one as gay and careless and inconsequent as hers. It was not in the nature of the man to desist from flirting with her, but his pretty speeches were coupled with a humour and chaff that robbed them of any pointedness, and merely resulted in an amusing amount of parry and thrust, over which they both laughed whole-heartedly. “You are an absolute witch,” he told her as they sat enjoying a big tea at an hotel on the south coast; “ever since we started you have made me behave more or less like a school-boy, and a tea like this is the climax.” “It’s a good thing I am the only witness,” she laughed. “The poorness of your jokes alone would have horrified your colleagues, but to see you eating such a tea must have meant a request for your resignation—it is so incompatible with the dignity of a Cabinet Minister.” “I had almost forgotten I was a Cabinet Minister. Gad! but it’s nice to get right away from the cares of office occasionally like this. When will you come again?” “Oh, I don’t think I must come any more,” roguishly. “I’m sure Brother Dudley will not consent.” “What has Brother Dudley go to do with it?… Did he consent this time?” “Not exactly. I anticipated his willingness.” “You little fibber. You mean you anticipated his firm refusal, and took French leave, so that you need not disobey him.” “It is true that Dudley and I differ occasionally, but I do not disobey him… if I can help it.”