A madman's wager; but I'll stick." "Six months; twelve o'clock, midnight, November thirteenth.

It's the date, old boy; that's what hoodooed you, as the Americans say." Kitty wasn't sure that the speaker was English; if he was, he had lost the insular significance of his vowels.

Still, it was, in its way, as pleasant a voice as the other's.

There was no doubt about the younger man; he was English to the core, English in his love of chance, English in his loyalty to his word; stupidly English.

That he was the younger was a trifling matter to deduce: no young man ever led his elder into mischief, harmful or innocuous.
"Six months.