an old company-sergeant-major of mine, and reinforce him with a few choice specimens of Billingsgate. It is obvious that the Aunt is susceptible to rhetoric—when suitably adorned," he added as an afterthought.
Drewitt turned to Lola and smiled. For some time the three sat silent.
"Excuse me a moment, will you, Lola? There's Ballinger, and I want to ask him about that place in Scotland."
Beresford had jumped up, and with a smile and a blush Lola inclined her head, and he strode off in pursuit of a little fair-haired man with the strut of a turkey.
"Only once in a blameless life have I ever ventured upon unsolicited advice," said Drewitt reminiscently after a pause. "In a moment of mental abstraction I advised a man who was complaining of loneliness to take a wife. He took me literally, and the husband of the lady took half his fortune as damages."
"Is this a confession, or merely an anecdote?" enquired Lola demurely.
"Neither," was the reply. "It is autobiography, and history is about to repeat itself." Drewitt paused and looked at Lola with a little friendly smile that he kept for his special friends. "Richard is an ass."
Lola stiffened slightly. She looked straight across at him; but Drewitt was examining the knuckles of his left hand.
