"Please sit down," urged Helen. "We want to ask you about the match."
"I really cannot," replied The Don. "I am on duty, you see."
"On duty?"
"Yes. Looking after men who would stay out to all hours, and regale themselves upon cake and all sorts of indigestible stuff. And more than that, Shock is outside waiting."
"Oh," cried Betty, "do bring him in. For years Helen and I have known him, and yet we don't know him. Bring him in."
"Can you not persuade him to come in?" urged Helen.
"I am sure I cannot. But if you were to try—" The Don paused, looking doubtfully at her. Helen hesitated.
"Oh, he's awful, I know. He will hardly speak to me," interrupted Betty. "But if you'll come with me I'll humble myself before him."
In a moment or two, sure enough, they returned, with Shock following.
He was a big man, gaunt and bony, with a mighty pair of shoulders topped by a square, massive head on which bristled a veritable shock of coarse, yellow hair. But he had a strong, honest face, and good, deep blue eyes. He seemed too big for the room, and after shaking hands awkwardly with Helen, who had gone forward to meet him, he subsided into, deep arm-chair, struggling with his hands and feet.