Plank moved forward on tiptoe, bulky and noiseless; and Siward held out his hand, saying something amiably formal.
"Would you like to have me come again ?" asked Plank, red with embarrassment, yet so naively that at first Siward found no words to answer him; then-- "Would you care to come, Mr.Plank ?" "Yes." Siward looked at him curiously, almost cautiously.

His first impressions of the man had been summed up in one contemptuous word.

Besides, barring that, what was there in common between himself and such a type as Plank?
He had not even troubled himself to avoid him at Shotover; he had merely been aware of him when Plank spoke to him; never otherwise, except that afternoon beside the swimming pool, when he had made one of his rare criticisms on Plank.
Perhaps Plank had changed, perhaps Siward had; for he found nothing offensive in the bulky young man now--nothing particularly attractive, either, except for a certain simplicity, a certain direct candour in the heavy blue eyes which met his squarely.
"Come in for a cigar when you have a few moments idle," said Siward slowly.
"It will give me great pleasure," said Plank, bowing.
And that was all.

He followed Fleetwood down the stairs; Wands held their coats, and bowed them out into the falling shadows of the winter twilight.
Siward, sitting beside his window, watched them enter their hansom and drive away up the avenue.

A dull flush had settled over his cheeks; the aroma of spirits hung in the air, and he looked across the room at the decanter.