Quin was appalled at the effect of these words. Mr. Chester's eyes got quite red around the rims and his lips actually trembled.
"Poor Enid!" he said. Then he remembered himself, or rather forgot himself, and became a Number Nine again, and bored Quin talking business until ten o'clock.
At parting they shook hands cordially, and Mr. Chester urged him to come again.
"I wonder if you would care to use one of my tickets for the Symphony Orchestra next week?" he asked.
Quin looked embarrassed. He had accepted a similar invitation the week before, and had confided to Rose Martel afterward that he "never heard such a bully band playing such bum music." But Mr. Chester's intention was so kind that he could run no risk of offending him.
"I'll go if I can," he said, leaving himself a loophole.
"Here is the ticket," said Mr. Chester, "and in case you do not use it, perhaps you will so good as to pass it on to some one who can."
This suggestion afforded Quin an inspiration.
"Say, Miss Enid," he said the next morning at breakfast. "I want to give you a ticket to the Symphony Orchestra next Friday night. Will you go?"
"But, my dear boy," she protested greatly touched, "I cannot go by myself."