It would be absurd to say that Rollo looked at his uncle keenly.
It was, therefore, not immediately that his dinner with Rollo became a feast of reason and a flow of soul.
'Rollo,' he said, blowing a smoke-ring, 'do you believe in affinities?'
Rollo, in the act of sipping a liqueur brandy, lowered his glass in surprise.
Let them!' he bellowed, sitting up and glaring at Rollo. 'I say, let them!
'Marguerite Parker!' exclaimed Rollo, bounding in his chair.
This was where Rollo asked if he might have a little more brandy.
'Er--when is it to be?' asked Rollo. 'The wedding, and all that?'
Rollo left the room, pale but determined, and hailed a taxi.
And so, at eleven forty-five that evening, had Rollo. For a full three-quarters of an hour he waited, scanning the face of each new arrival with the anxious scrutiny of a lost dog seeking its master; but at fourteen minutes to twelve the last faint flicker of hope had died away.
It was a pleasant laugh, and musical, but it sent Rollo diving, outraged, for the handle of the door.
The sudden appearance of Rollo caused a dead silence.
Rollo stood in the doorway, an impressive statue of restrained indignation.
'So I should think,' said Rollo. 'I believe you, by George!'
The lady nodded cheerfully at Rollo. She was small and slight, with an impudent nose and a mass of brown hair.