"Where's Gartney?" asked the Master after greeting his friend, "he promised to be early."
"Eustace's promises are like pie crust," replied Errington, giving his cloak and hat to the waiter, "made to be broken."
"You look very broken yourself," remarked Macjean meditatively, as the gaslight fell on Guy's face. "What is the matter? Have you had bad news? Will you have a glass of sherry?"
"Nothing is the matter," replied the baronet categorically. "I have not had bad news, and I will take a glass of sherry."
He really felt very worried over the position in which he now found himself regarding his wife, but it was better he should dine in company than alone, as a solitary meal would only make matters appear much worse than they really were. Besides he was going to consult Eustace, who, he felt certain, would advise him for the best, so he put the best face he could on the matter, and chatted gaily over his sherry to the two young men while waiting for his cousin.
Presently Eustace, cool, calm and unconcerned, arrived, with a large appetite and an apology for being late.
"I've got a man who is in the habit of mislaying things," he explained as they all sat down to dinner, "he mislaid his brains when he was born, and hasn't found them yet, so I suffer in consequence. No sherry for me, thank you! Water, please!"
"Ugh, London water," groaned Laxton, holding up his sherry to the light.
"Water," remarked Mr. Gartney sententiously, "is the purest of all elements."
"Not in town," retorted Macjean with a grimace. "I don't believe in Adam's wine."