“Yes,” said George, urbanely; “Il faut vivre.”
“I don’t suppose you value our opinion, but——”
“Oh yes; I value it at a penny—every evening.”
“I was going to say——”
“Keep it, my dear fellow. What you say has market value—to the extent I have mentioned.”
“My dear Neston, may I——”
“Consider this an interview? My dear Espion, certainly. Make any use of this communication you please. Good night.”
George strolled away. “Suppose I was rather rude,” he said to himself. “But, hang it, I must have earned that fellow fifty pounds!”
George was to earn Mr. Espion a little more yet, as it turned out. He had not gone many steps before he saw his cousin Gerald making his bow to Mrs. Pocklington. Mr. Espion saw him too, and was on the alert. Gerald was closely followed by Tommy Myles.
“Ah, the enemy!” exclaimed George under his breath, pursuing his way towards Laura Pocklington.