"These, m'lord," said Ridley.
"Exactly so," said his lordship.
And while he was taking off his gaiters and thinking of Penelope, Bob was sitting on the edge of Gordon's bed and telling him all about it.
"Why are you here?" asked Bob.
"She sent me a telegram," said poor Gordon.
"I say, what about?"
"Sayin' I wath a noble character and so on," replied Gordon, miserably, "and I came here at onth becauth the telegram came from here."
As the sleep went out of his eyes, he talked less Hebraically.
"I thought she might be here," he added, shaking his curly head.
Bob thought very hard.