As the young Englishman bent over, without replying, Blake roused from his abstraction and perceived that he was not alone in the room.
"Hello—'scuse me!" he mumbled. Half startled, they turned to look at him. He met them with a rare smile. "So it's you, Jeems—and Miss Jenny. Didn't mean to cut in on your 'tates-an'-tay, as the Irishman put it."
He started to turn back. Genevieve sought to stop him. "Won't you join us, Tom?"
"Thanks, no. It's Jimmy's sit-out. I just stepped in here to see if I could find a book on the differential calculus. Been figuring a problem in my head all evening, and there's a formula I need to get my final solution. I know that formula well as I know you, but somehow my memory seems to've stopped working."
"Those bally figures! Can't you ever chop off?" remonstrated Lord James. "You're pegged. Come and join us. Miss Genevieve will be interested to hear about the dam."
"I'm interested, indeed I am, Tom. Papa says you are working out a piece of wonderful engineering."
Blake stared. "What does he know about it?"
"I suppose his consulting engineer told him—your friend Mr. Griffith."
"Grif's not working for him now."
"Indeed? Then I misunderstood. Anyway, you must come and explain all about the dam."