"Oh, Cæsar, you're—you're——"
"Well?"
"You're going to play bridge?"
"Yes. What of it? It's only once in a way. I do bar cards on Sunday; but there are reasons."
"What reasons?"
"Reasons which—er—I'll keep to myself."
"All right," said John, stiffly, but with a breaking heart.
Next day he asked Fluff to walk with him, but Fluff was walking with some one else. The Duffer had letters to write, and stigmatized walking as a beastly grind. John determined to walk by himself; but as he was leaving the Manor he met the Caterpillar, a tremendous buck, arrayed in his best—patent-leather boots, white waistcoat, a flower in his buttonhole.
"Where are you off to, Jonathan?"
"To Preston. You'd better come, Caterpillar."