Ryland tip-toed across the room with long strides and whispered hoarsely in his sister’s ear.
“Is the Old Gentleman, your father, to house, maiden?”
“No, you idiot; of course he isn’t at this time of night. He does some work.”
“Cruel, fair. But, oh Lord, I breathe again. A bowl of milk or I die.”
Ryland slid into the big chair beside his sister and with one arm squeezed her to him. Mangane, watching in some amazement, had difficulty in repressing a stab of jealousy at sight of the flush of pleasure on the girl’s face. Presumably, this must be Ryland Fratten, her half-brother; there was nothing to worry about.
“Ry, have you met Mr. Mangane? This is my brother, Mr. Mangane.”
“Steady. Half-brother; give the devil his due.”
Mangane nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction, but Ryland struggled to his feet, walked round the tea-table, and held out his hand.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” he said. “You’re obviously human. Dune was a machine—and I never found the right butter to put into it. I want all the human beings I can get at headquarters.”
The charm of his smile, rather than the flippant words, melted the slight chill in the secretary’s manner and for a few minutes he remained talking to Inez, while Ryland sat on the sofa, eating chocolate cake and muttering to himself.