"Of course I am," answered Peter, in mild surprise; "in fact, since my father left me five hundred a year, I've devoted myself entirely to entomology."
"And to eating!" said Tim, with a grin. "Why, Peter, you've a paunch like a priest."
"Oh, really!" began Peter, scandalised; but his further protestations were drowned in the laughter of Philip, on hearing which Tim nodded approvingly.
"Come now, my dear friend, that's better. You are more like a Christian than when I last saw you."
"At Bedford?" inquired Philip, still smiling.
"No! In London—no less. Didn't I see you at the theatre six months ago, looking for all the world as if you were attending your own funeral?"
"Why didn't you speak to me?"
"You looked so supercilious and stand-off-the-grass like that I couldn't bring myself to it at all."
"You idiot!" said Philip, colouring with vexation. "You know I am always glad to see you."
"Is that a Chinese invitation, Philip?"