eythorp nodded.

Bob Pillin went on with desperation:

"I should like to know what your objection to me is."

The old man turned his head so far as he was able; a grim smile bristled
the hairs about his lips, and twinkled in his eyes. What did he object
to? Why--everything! Object to! That sleek head, those puppy-dog eyes,
fattish red cheeks, high collars, pearl pin, spats, and drawl-pah! the
imbecility, the smugness of his mug; no go, no devil in any of his
sort, in any of these fish-veined, coddled-up young bloods, nothing but
playing for safety! And he wheezed out:

"Milk and water masquerading as port wine."

Bob Pillin frowned.

It was almost too much for the composure even of a man of the world.
That this paralytic old fellow should express contempt for his virility
was really the last thing in jests. Luckily he could not take it
seriously. But suddenly he thought: 'What if he really has the power to
stop my going there, and means to turn them against me!' And his heart
quailed.

"Awfully sorry, sir," he said, "if you don't think I'm wild enough.
Anything I can do for you in that line--"

The old man grunted; and realising that he had been quite witty, Bob
Pillin went on:

"I know I'm not in debt, no entanglements, got a decent income, pretty
good expectations and all that; but I can soon put that all right if I'm
not fit without."

It was perhaps his first attempt at irony, and he could not help
thinking how good it was.

But old Heythorp preserved a deadly silence. He looked like a stuffed
man, a regular Aunt Sally sitting there, with the fixed red in his
cheeks, his stivered hair, square block of a body, and no neck that
you could see-only wanting the pipe in his mouth! Could there really be
danger from such an old idol? The idol spoke:

"I'll give you a word of advice. Don't hang round there, or you'll burn
your fingers. Remember me to your father. Good-night!"

The taxi had stopped before the house in Sefton Park. An insensate
impulse to remain seated and argue the point fought in Bob Pillin with
an impulse to leap out, shake his fist in at the window, and walk off.
He merely said, however:

"Thanks for the lift. Good-night!" And, getting out deliberately, he
walked off.

Old Heythorp, waiting for the driver to help him up, thought 'Fatter,
but no more guts than his father!'

In his sanctum he sank at once into his chair. It was wonderfully still
there every day at this hour; just the cl