Belinda Mary, you're really the most wonderful child." He sat on the edge of her arm-chair and laid his hand on her shoulder.
"And you've come to take me out to lunch!" "What were you worrying about when I came in ?" she asked.
He made a little gesture as if to dismiss the subject.
"Nothing very much.

You've heard me speak of John Lexman ?" She bent her head.
"Lexman's the writer of a great many mystery stories, but you've probably read his books." She nodded again, and again T.X.noticed the suppressed eagerness in her eyes.
"You're not ill or sickening for anything, are you ?" he asked anxiously; "measles, or mumps or something ?" "Don't be silly," she said; "go on and tell me something about Mr.
Lexman." "He's going to America," said T.X., "and before he goes he wants to give a little lecture." "A lecture ?" "It sounds rum, doesn't it, but that's just what he wants to do." "Why is he doing it!" she asked.
T.X.made a gesture of despair.
"That is one of the mysteries which may never be revealed to me, except--" he pursed his lips and looked thoughtfully at the girl.

"There are times," he said, "when there is a great struggle going on inside a man between all the human and better part of him and the baser professional part of him.

One side of me wants to hear this lecture of John Lexman's very much, the other shrinks from the ordeal." "Let us talk it over at lunch," she said practically, and carried him off..