"I say," he said, "you ought to go into Parliament."
"P'raps I shall," replied the Industrious Apprentice haughtily.
Evidently with the intention of resuming his interrupted discourse, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Then, suddenly, his mouth closed with a jerk, he turned a dusky red, and assumed an ostrich-like posture over the cylinders of the car.
"There's a trunk-call coming through for you, Mr. Meldrum," said a clear voice.
Philip turned round, to find Miss Jennings.
"I shall be back directly, Mr. Rendle," he said to Timothy, and accompanied the typist to the office.
"Brand is a great orator, Miss Jennings," he remarked, as he sat down to the telephone.
Miss Jennings sniffed.
"That hot-air artist?" she replied witheringly. "He's the laughing-stock of the place. Not that I know him. We on the office-staff keep ourselves to ourselves. We don't—"
At this moment the trunk-call came through, and the conversation terminated.