“Chuck him!” advised Mr Goble cordially.
“No, thanks, I couldn’t, really.”
The cloud began to descend again upon Mr Goble’s brow. He was accustomed to having these invitations of his treated as royal commands.
“Come along!”
“I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
Mr Goble subjected her to a prolonged stare, seemed about to speak, changed his mind, and swung off moodily in the direction of the grill-room. He was not used to this sort of treatment.
He had hardly gone, when Wally appeared.
“What was he saying to you?” demanded Wally abruptly, without preliminary greeting.
“He was asking me to lunch.”
Wally was silent for a moment. His good-natured face wore an unwonted scowl.