ealed his amusement.

"Then you'll have to keep the poor girl waiting," he said.

"Keep her waiting?" said Savile. "Of course I shall. It's a very good
plan." He got up and took his hat. "Makes them more keen. Don't you find
it so?"

"In _my_ unfortunate experience nothing makes them keen at all, unless,
of course, it's some one one doesn't want. And then everything does."

"Hard luck!" said Savile, shaking his head wisely, and took his leave,
thinking with a smile that Wilton, having obviously got the chuck, was
trying to keep in favour by playing the good friend. "He's not half a
bad chap," thought Savile. "And I'll send that wire; it's a good idea."

He stood under a lamp at the corner of Half-Moon Street and counted his
money.

"Confound it, I've only got a bob! It'll just pay for a cab to Aunt
William's."

Thoroughly enjoying this exciting and adventurous life of diplomacy, he
arrived at his aunt's. She was dressing for dinner. Nevertheless, for
Savile, she came downstairs in a magenta wrapper.

"I hope there's nothing wrong, my dear boy," she said.

"No, everything's quite all right. But--you know what you gave me the
other day, Aunt William?"

"Yes, dear."

"Sorry to say it's all gone."

"Oh, Savile!"

"Before I go back," said Savile, with a note of pathos in his voice,
"I've one or two little presents I'm awfully keen on giving. I dare say
you understand."

She didn't understand, but she gave him a five-pound note.

He beamed, and said, "Well, of all the bricks!"

"You promise me to spend it wisely, Savile dear. But I know I can trust
you."

"Rather! This will be more frightfully useful than you can possibly
imagine. Well, it seems beastly to rush in and get all I can, and then
fly; but I've simply got to go. Besides, you want to dress," said
Savile, looking at the wrapper.

"Yes. Get along with you, and I do hope that you won't turn out a
dreadful, extravagant, fast young man when you're grown up," said Aunt
William, with relish at the idea.

Savile smiled.

"Don't you worry about _that_, Aunt William! Why, you're thinking of
ages ago, or Ouida, or something. There's no such thing nowadays as a
fast young man, as you call it. They're always talking about how ill
they are, or how hard up, and how they don't want to be bothered with
women."

"How do you mean, dear?"

"Why, they're frightened to death of girls marrying them against their
will--or getting mixed up in things--oh, I don