"No," said Buzzy, resolutely. "I'm going to try the other thing first. That's what I've been trained for. Good night, George. Don't tell the fellows, will you? They'll guy me to death. I just wanted you to understand that I can't go on as I'm going on twelve thousand a year."
"I quite understand, old boy."
Buzzy held his hand for a moment, looking quite steadily into his eyes. "You don't think I'm as useless as the rest of 'em think I am, do you, George?"
"God bless you, no! No one thinks that of you!"
"George, I hate a liar," said Buzzy, but his face glowed with a happy smile.
In the lobby he met his father.
"Where the devil have you been?" demanded Van Pycke, senior. "Damitall, I've wasted half an hour waiting for you."
"I didn't know you were waiting, dad. Why didn't you send in your card?"
"Send in my—why, confound you, Bosworth, I'm a member of this club. Why should I send in—"
"Don't lose your temper, dad. I apologize for keeping you waiting. Don't let me keep you any longer."