"Thank you, sir," said Bojo gratefully, exalted to the seventh Heaven by this permission, which seemed to bring him back the old intimacy. Patsie was looking at him with shining eyes.
"Yes, but how about your work—the factory?" said Drake.
"The factory be damned," said Bojo fervidly, with the American instinct for the fitness of the direct word. All broke out laughing at his impetuosity.
"Well, Tom, I always did want you in the family," said Drake, clapping him on the shoulder with a sly look at Patsie. "Have it as you wish. I'll be mighty glad to have you, though you did give me a pretty stiff lesson!"
At this moment when Patsie and Bojo did not dare to look at each other, the situation was luckily saved by the announcement of dinner.
In the dining-room they waited several moments for Mrs. Drake to appear until finally a footman brought the news that the mistress of the house was indisposed and begged them to sit down without her. Drake looked rather startled at this and went off into a moody abstraction for quite a while, during which Patsie exchanged solicitous glances with Bojo.
"It is more serious than he will admit," he thought. "I must get a chance to speak to him alone. He will never tell the truth before Drina."
Dinner over, a rather anxious meal partaken of in long silences with occasional bursts of forced conversation, Bojo found opportunity to whisper to Patsie as they returned towards the library.
"Make some excuse and leave us as soon as you can. I'll see you before I go."
She gave him a slight movement of her eyes to show she comprehended and went dancing in ahead.