Her companion's amusement grew. "Your operations are rapid."
"Remarkably. I've asked him to come to me."
Tony raised his eyebrows. "To come to you?"
"Till he can get a train—to-morrow. He can't stay on here."
Tony looked at it. "I see what you mean."
"That's a blessing—you don't always! I like him—he's my sort. And something seems to tell me I'm his!"
"I won't gracefully insult you by saying you're every one's," Tony observed. Then, after an instant, "Is he very much cut up?" he inquired.
"He's utterly staggered. He doesn't understand."
Tony thought again. "No more do I. But you'll console him," he added.
"I'll feed him first," said his neighbour. "I'll take him back with me to luncheon."
"Isn't that scarcely civil?"
"Civil to you?" Mrs. Beever interposed. "That's exactly what he asked me. I told him I would arrange it with you."
"And you're 'arranging' it, I see. But how can you take him if Rose is bringing him in?"
