"Oh, my dear old Theophilus," moaned the æsthetic Timothy, "do you mean to say you have resurrected the Bulgarian Atrocities?"
The ornaments in question had been a Christmas present from Mrs. Grice. ("I bought 'em just before closing-time at a Sale of Work what my married sister in the Wandsworth Road was interested in, sir," she had explained. "A Sale of Work in aid of the Bulgarian Atrocities, it was. I said to Grice at the time that they would brighten up your room something wonderful. There they are, sir, with our respectful Christmas wishes—one from Grice and one from me. Oh, thank you sir!") Hence their name.
"Yes," said Philip; "Mrs. Grice got them out of the cupboard as soon as I returned, and they were duly washed and put up this morning. I was hoping she had forgotten about them; but they will have to stay there now. We mustn't offend the old lady. You are a tremendous swell to-night, Tim. Going out?"
"Yes," said Tim importantly, "I am." He produced a pair of white gloves and began to try them on, surveying Philip's aged dinner-jacket and black tie with tolerant indulgence.
"I must now pull myself together," he announced, turning to survey an appallingly tight white waistcoat with immense satisfaction in the glass over the mantelpiece, "and pass along quietly."
"You needn't go yet," said Philip, filling another pipe.
"Despite your frenzied entreaties, old son," replied Timothy, "I simply must. There is going to be dirty work at the crossroads to-night," he added mysteriously.
Philip, who gathered that a confidence of some kind was on the way, waited. It was good to see Timothy again. His company was always exhilarating, and at the present juncture it was extra welcome. For Philip found himself at an unexpectedly loose end. He had landed from the Caspian a week before, determined this time to put his whole fate to the touch—only to find that his Lady was not in London. Friends in Hampshire—he knew neither their name nor address, and was much too self-conscious to enquire at Tite Street—had snatched her away directly after her father's wedding, and the date of her return was uncertain. Therefore he leaned at this moment upon Timothy.
Presently Tim enquired:—
"I say, Phil, ever been in love, old friend?"