Beverley growled at him inarticulately.

"Yes, I know," said Piers, "But it doesn't affect me so much now. I'm
past the sensitive age." He ate his walnut, drained his glass, and rose.

"You--puppy!" said Sir Beverley, looking up at him.

Piers came to his side. He suddenly knelt down and pulled the old man's
arm round his shoulders. "I say, I'm going to enjoy that trip," he said
boyishly. "Let's get away before the New Year!"

Sir Beverley suffered the action with no further protest than a frown.
"You weren't so mighty anxious when I first suggested it," he grumbled.

Piers laughed. "Can't a man change his mind? I'm keen enough now."

"What do you want to go for?" Sir Beverley looked at him suspiciously.

But Piers' frank return of his look told him nothing. "I love the South
as you know," he said.

"Damn it, yes!" said Sir Beverley irritably. He could never endure any
mention of the Southern blood in Piers.

"And--" Piers' brown fingers grew suddenly tight upon the bony hand he
had drawn over his shoulder--"I like going away with you."

"Oh, stow it, Piers!" growled Sir Beverley.

"The truth, sir!" protested Piers, with eyes that suddenly danced. "It
does me good to be with you. It keeps me young."

"Young!" ejaculated Sir Beverley. "You--infant!"

Piers broke into a laugh. He looked a mere boy when he gave himself up to
merriment. "And it'll do you good too," he said, "to get away from that
beastly doctor who is always hanging around. I long to give him the boot
whenever I see him."

"You don't like each other, eh?" Sir Beverley's smile was sardonic.

"We loathe and detest each other," said Piers. All the boyishness went
out of his face with the words; he looked suddenly grim, and in that
moment the likeness between them was very marked. "I presume this change
of air scheme was his suggestion," he said abruptly.

"And if it was?" said Sir Beverley.

Piers threw back his head and laughed again through clenched teeth. "For
which piece of consideration he has my sincere gratitude," he said. He
pressed his grandfather's hand again and rose. "So it's to be Monte
Carlo, is it? Well, the sooner the better for me. I'll tell Victor to
look up the trains. We can't get away to-morrow or the next day. But we
ought to be able to manage the day after."

He strolled across to the fire, and stood there with his back to the
room, whistling below his breath.

Sir Beverley regarded him frowningly. There was no denyi