"Why shouldn't I?"
"Well," Pamela went on, her eyes travelling out seaward for a moment, "you seem to be one of those sort of men, Mr. Fischer, who never do anything without an object."
"Some powers of observation," he admitted blithely.
"You have an object in being kind to Jimmy, then?"
Mr. Fischer produced a cigar case and selected a cheroot.
"Mind my smoking?"
"Not in the least. The only time I mind things is when people don't answer my questions."
"I was only kind of hesitating," Mr. Fischer went on, leaning back once more in his chair. "You want the truth, don't you?"
"I never think anything else is worth while."
"In the first place, then," her companion began, "your brother belongs to what I suppose is known as the exclusive set in New York. I am a Westerner with few friends there. Through him I have obtained introductions to several people whom it was interesting to me, from a business point of view, to know."