“George Ball!”
“Aye. Sit on that stool, my lad. Listen to me.” Nick obeyed, staring up at the keen face bent over his own. “Let’s have a little chat. I like you, Nicky.”
“Do ’ee, now? I likes you; yas, I do.” He grinned again, adding slily: “An’ so does Miss Cicely.”
This second allusion challenged Lady Selina’s attention. She turned to glance at her daughter, but, happily, the tell-tale blushed had faded.
“Do you ever smoke cigarettes, Nick?”
“Times, I do, when fellers gi’ me some.”
“Have one with me.”
He held out his cigarette-case. Nick selected one; Grimshaw took another, saying lightly:
“Have you a match?”
“Yas.”