"After a man has slaved his soul out," Cameron moaned, "these are the things a woman cares about!"
Crane won the rubber, and spent considerable gallantry upon Nellie in compensation. Cameron had yawned all through, but no one had noticed. Crane lighted a cigarette and perched upon the corner of the dining-table.
"I say, Joe, got anything on to-morrow night?"
"I have," said Cameron.
"Something you can't chuck?"
"Scarcely. A director's dinner."
Crane grew thoughtful.
"You certainly are a victim of the power-passion," he sighed, considering Cameron. "I don't know how you stand it. I'd have more money, no doubt, if I weren't so apathetic, but, by Jinks, it doesn't look worth it to me!"
"A question of taste," said Cameron briefly.
"Taste? If that were all!" He smoked, looking at Nellie through the haze. "I say, Nell, I've got tickets for Kreisler to-morrow night. Come with me, there's a good girl! Lend me your wife, will you, Joe?"