"I've been telling him, father, that you've been going round London saying that the man who can make fifty runs in half-an-hour is sure to be able to run a business."
"And it's true," said Mr Marston, "it's true. If a man's got the pluck to face a ticklish situation at cricket, he can do anything. Business is only bluff, like cricket, making the bowler think you're set when you're really expecting every ball will be your last. If I've said it to Gerald once I've said it fifty times. 'My boy,' I've said, 'if you don't do another stroke of work in your life you'll be worth a salary of five hundred pounds a year for having brought young Whately to us.' Now come along and let's go over those accounts."
They spent over an hour together, and at the end of it Mr Marston rose from his desk perfectly satisfied.
"As far as I can see you haven't made a slip. It's first class absolutely. Now, you run along to Perkins and settle up your personal accounts with him, and then we'll go out and have lunch somewhere together, the three of us, and you can spend the afternoon at home. I daresay your girl's been missing you."
"I haven't got a girl, sir."
"What! a young fellow like you not got a girl! We shall have to see about that. Why, at your age I seem to remember...." And the old man winked his eye and chuckled gaily.
Perkins received Roland with considerable politeness, mingled for the first time with respect, also, Roland suspected, with a more deep dislike.
"Well, so you're back, are you? And they all tell me you've been doing great things—interviewing Government officials."
"I've had a bit of luck."
"Useful luck?"