"Don't give your final answer to-night." Justin Huntley's bland voice interrupted the boy's reflections. "There is no hurry. Take a week. Two--three--if you like."
Phil pulled himself together.
"Thank you. I will, if you don't object--a few days, anyway. Please don't think I am ungrateful, or don't appreciate the compliment you have paid me--or rather the kindness, for, of course, I know I'm not experienced enough to be much of a partner at present. I--"
But Huntley waved the words aside.
"It's not kindness--nothing but selfishness. I happen to want you. Come on in if you will. Anyway think it over. The madame is alone. Shall we go to her?"
Phil fancied there was an odd, wistful inquiry in Mrs. Huntley's pale eyes as she turned to meet the men as they entered the room. It was almost as if she were making some kind of plea. Whether she wanted him to accept or refuse her husband's offer was not at all clear to Phil. He made his adieus as early as he politely could on the score of a previous engagement and passed out into the night trying to adjust as best he could the confused bundle of thoughts and emotions he carried.
"Wonder if old Mephisto had any qualms," muttered Justin Huntley as the door had closed upon the tall young doctor.
"Did you speak, dear?" inquired his wife. "I didn't understand."
"No, I didn't say anything--worth repeating."
"How like Philip is to his father, isn't he?"