eld out his hand, which Carthew calmly took.

"Will you sit down?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Have a cigarette?" Carthew hesitated.

"Do you mind if I have one of my own, sir?"

"These are Virginian."

"Oh! Thank you, sir." And Carthew took a cigarette from Mr. Prohack's
case.

"Light?"

"After you, sir."

"No, no."

"Thank you, sir."

Carthew coughed, puffed, and leaned back a little in his chair. At this
point Mrs. Prohack left the room. (She said afterwards that she left the
room because she couldn't have borne to be present when Carthew's back
broke the back of the chair.)

Carthew sat silent.

"Well," said Mr. Prohack. "What do you think of the car? I ought to tell
you I know nothing of motors myself, and this is the first one I've ever
had."

"The Eagle is a very good car, sir. If you ask me I should say it was
light on tyres and a bit thirsty with petrol. It's one of them cars as
anybody can _drive_--if you understand what I mean. I mean anybody can
make it _go_. But of course that's only the beginning of what I call
driving."

"Just so," agreed Mr. Prohack, drawing by his smile a very faint smile
from Carthew. "My son seems to think it's about the best car on the
market."

"Well, sir, I've been mixed up with cars pretty well all my life--I mean
since I was twenty--"

"Have you indeed!"

"I have, sir--" Carthew neatly flicked some ash on the carpet, and Mr.
Prohack thoughtfully did the same--"I have, sir, and I haven't yet come
across the best car on the market, if you understand what I mean."

"Perfectly," said Mr. Prohack.

Carthew sat silent.

"But it's a very good car. Nobody could wish for a better. I'll say
that," he added at length.

"Had many accidents in your time?"

"I've been touched, sir, but I've never touched anything myself. You can
have an accident while you're drawn up alongside the kerb. It rather
depends on how many fools have been let loose in the traffic, doesn't
it, sir, if you understand what I mean."

"Exactly," said Mr. Prohack.

Carthew sat silent.

"I gather you've been through the war," Mr. Prohack began again.

"I was in the first Territorial regiment that landed in France, and I
got my discharge July 1919."

"Wounded?"

"Well, sir, I've been blown up twice and buried once and pitched into
the sea once, but nothing ever happened to me."

"I see you don't wear any ribbons."

"It's like this, sir. I've seen enough ribbons on chests since the
armi