"Well, I'll just try." The manner in which he emptied his glass was quite different, with a long, slow drawing-out of the enjoyment, full of significance for the initiated.
"Will you be at home to-night ?" asked Durnovo, gently pushing aside the hospitable decanter.

"I have got a lot of work to do to-day, but I should like to run in and see you this evening." "Yes, come and dine." Durnovo shook his head and looked down at his wrinkled and draggled clothing.
"No, I can't do that, old man.

Not in this trim." "Bosh?
What matter?
Jocelyn doesn't mind." "No, but I do." It was obvious that he wanted to accept the invitation, although the objection he raised was probably honest.

For that taint in the blood that cometh from the subtle tar-brush brings with it a vanity that has its equal in no white man's heart.
"Well, I'll lend you a black coat! Seven o'clock sharp!" Durnovo hurried away with a gleam of excitement in his dark eyes.
Maurice Gordon did not resume his work at once.

He sat for some time idly drumming with his fingers on the desk.
"If I can only get her to be civil to him," he reflected aloud, "I'll get into this business yet." At seven o'clock Durnovo appeared at the Gordons' house.