“I have been rather a worthless fellow, Miss Hope,” confessed Dick Danvers. “I was beginning to despair of myself till I came across you and your father. The atmosphere here—I don’t mean the material atmosphere of Crane Court—is so invigorating: its simplicity, its sincerity. I used to have ideals. I tried to stifle them. There is a set that sneers at all that sort of thing. Now I see that they are good. You will help me?”
Every woman is a mother. Tommy felt for the moment that she wanted to take this big boy on her knee and talk to him for his good. He was only an overgrown lad. But so exceedingly overgrown! Tommy had to content herself with holding out her hand. Dick Danvers grasped it tightly.
Clodd was the only one who did not approve of him.
“How did you get hold of him?” asked Clodd one afternoon, he and Peter alone in the office.
“He came. He came in the usual way,” explained Peter.
“What do you know about him?”
“Nothing. What is there to know? One doesn’t ask for a character with a journalist.”
“No, I suppose that wouldn’t work. Found out anything about him since?”
“Nothing against him. Why so suspicious of everybody?”
“Because you are just a woolly lamb and want a dog to look after you. Who is he? On a first night he gives away his stall and sneaks into the pit. When you send him to a picture-gallery, he dodges the private view and goes on the first shilling day. If an invitation comes to a public dinner, he asks me to go and eat it for him and tell him what it’s all about. That doesn’t suggest the frank and honest journalist, does it?”