Jack looked astonished. “What did you do that for?” he asked.
“Oh,” said Clarence, “when the governor talks to me about his generosity I always whistle.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Glynne,” said Jack, “but cannot you add a word or two to the whistle?”
“Well,” said Clarence, “perhaps I can put in a word. A thought that usually runs through my mind when the governor is talking to me, is, don’t believe all he says. Take my advice, Mr. De Vinne, follow the course your heart dictates and I believe everything will come out right in the end. Now, I have been waiting nearly an hour for you for this little game of billiards and I must insist upon you taking your cue.”
It was late that night when Clarence parted from Jack at the door of the latter’s room. Young Mr. Glynne had smoked cigarettes incessantly while they had been playing billiards, and he felt the necessity of a walk in the open air before going to bed.
As he passed the door of the library, he was surprised to find it open, for he had supposed that his father had already retired.
“Is that you, Clarence?”
“Yes, father. I thought you had gone to bed.”
“Come in,” said the elder Mr. Glynne. “I want to talk to you.”
Clarence sauntered into the room, his hands in his pockets, wondering what was in store for him. His father shut the door and then turned upon him sharply.