"Besides," he added, "Mark's easy. Cayley's one of these heavy, quiet people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives himself away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn't he?"
"Some women like that type of ugliness."
"Yes, that's true. Between ourselves, I think there's one here who does. Rather a pretty girl at Jallands" he waved his left hand "down that way."
"What's Jallands?"
"Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called Jalland, but now it's a country cottage belonging to a widow called Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss Norbury—the girl—has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn't much time for that sort of thing."
"What sort of thing?"
"Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she's been to any theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do."
"Mark kept him busy?"
"Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing something for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And, funnily enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark."
"He was fond of him?"
"Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He'd sized Mark up, of course—his vanity, his
