Come over
and dine."
"Can't," said Dick.
"Do. I'll open a bottle of the governor's old port. Then we can play
billiards, or piquet, or cat's-cradle, or any rotten thing you like."
Dick excused himself curtly. Austin had come down for Whitsuntide, and a
lady was staying in the house. Lord Banstead pushed his hat to the back
of his head.
"Then what the devil am I to do in this hole of a place?"
"Don't know," said Dick.
"You fellows in the country are so unfriendly. In town I never need
dine alone. Anyone's glad to see me. Feeding all by myself in that
dining-room fairly gives me the pip."
"Then come and dine here," said Dick, unable to refuse a neighbour
hospitality.
"Right," said Banstead. "That is really like the Samaritan Johnnie. I'll
come with pleasure."
"Quarter to eight."
Banstead hesitated. "Couldn't you make it a quarter past?"
Dick stared. "Alter our dinner hour? You've rather a nerve, haven't you,
Banstead?"
"I wouldn't suggest it, if we weren't pals," replied the other, grinning
somewhat shamefacedly.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50