"It is very kind of you, Mr. Noble," he at length said, "and if I can, in your opinion, add any thing to the success of your very attractive plan, I ought not to refuse, especially as I am hungry for a genuine old-fashioned day with the quails."
"Good!" exclaimed the banker, again darting his soft white hand towards Reynolds, "I am delighted. I am off now on some pressing business; shall be glad to give you and Mr. Moreton further details of our project in due time. Shall hope to have you both at my house to dine before we are off for General DeKay's."
He bowed with amazing suppleness and walked swiftly from the room. He left behind him, so to speak, lingering in the air, a suggestion of irrepressible alertness, outrightness and vim.
"There's an old boy for you," said Moreton, resuming his seat at the table and motioning Reynolds to do likewise. "I have never seen another at all like him. Make a friend of him, and there's no end to the good he will do you. There's not a doubt that he left urgent business to come here and get me into his party. I'm delighted that you were here, don't you know, for we'll have a rare lark. General DeKay is one of your fine old-time Southern planters, I'm told, whose hospitality is as broad as his fields."
"I'm a fool for consenting to join you," Reynolds bluntly exclaimed, "but I am committed to the folly and must make the most of it."
"Since when have you come to consider a day or so behind the dogs in good quail cover a folly?" said Moreton, with a ring of good-humored resentment in his voice.
"You misconstrue me," replied Reynolds, "I shrink from the other feature of the affair. I am out of society for good and all. I fear there will be more women than dogs and quail."
Moreton laughed as a vision of Mr. Noble's charming daughter arose in his mind. She at least would be one of the party.