I turned, frowning, and looked into the chubby face of Sir Reginald Blackthwaite.
"How are you, Brand? How are you?" he said, with a geniality I found excessive and with a smile beyond words ingratiating.
"How are you?" I said, as civilly as I could, and I turned to my food.
"That's the bone of contention. That's the man who is splitting the Company and undermining the friendship of years—that's Sir Reginald Blackthwaite," I said to Angel, in a low voice.
"Oh, is it?" she said; and she looked at him with greater interest.
I gave him no more thought, but suddenly I perceived a very mischievous expression on Angel's face, and then I distinctly saw her employed in a languishing glance.
"Good heavens!" I said. "Are you making eyes at that old terror?"
"Oh, Roger, you know I wouldn't make eyes at any one! I wouldn't do anything so horrid!" she said plaintively.
"Of course not," I said, in a tone of utter disbelief, for I saw the corners of her mouth quiver with a repressed smile.
"You don't believe me. You're very distrustful," she wailed.
"Not at all. Mine is an ingenuous nature," I said peacefully.
