"Tea be hanged! Have a man's drink," hospitably and diplomatically said Mr. Goodchild. There was still a chance of escaping. He knew what violent opposition had done to sentimental daughters.
"Yes, but you'll have to allow us a decent rate of interest on our balances."
"How much do you carry?" asked Mr. Goodchild, carelessly.
"Enough for Dawson to offer three per cent. But let us not talk business here. I'll call on you to-morrow.
"All right. But Dawson can't do it, not even on time deposits, and—"
"Scotch for mine," said H. R. "Is Frederick coming?"
Mr. Goodchild was, after all, a gentleman. He rang for Frederick. He also was thirsty.
"Hendrik, it's beautiful," said Grace, enthusiastically. "But are you perfectly sure you can—"
"Empress, don't you wish it done?"
"Of course."