"How sweet of you," she answered, blandly. "Do you know Mr. Brooks? Mr. Kingston Brooks, Lord Bertram. Mr. Brooks is a very old friend, and I have so many questions I want to ask him."
Lord Bertram, a slim, aristocratic young man, raised his hat, and glanced with some interest at the other man.
"The Mr. Kingston Brooks of the East End? Lavvy's friend?" he asked, politely.
Brooks smiled.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I am the person who is being exposed—isn't that the word? I warn you, Lady Sybil, that I am a questionable character."
"I will take the risk," she answered, gaily.
"I think you may safely do so," Lord Bertram answered, raising his hat.
"Good-morning, Lady Sybil—morning, Mr. Brooks!"
She led him towards the chairs.
"I am going to take the risk of your being in an extravagant frame of mind," she said, "and make you pay for two chains—up here, on the back now. Now, first of all, do you know that you look shockingly ill?"
"I have just come from-n my doctor," Brooks answered. "He agrees with you."