"Young 'uns must sweat if they're to get there. That's all right. Aren't it, Alston?"
"Rather!"
"Can't you get him back?" continued Crayford.
The softness, the almost luxurious abandon of look and manner was dropping away from him. The man who has "interests," and who seldom forgets them for more than a very few minutes, began to reappear.
"Well, I might. But—why?"
"Don't he want to see his chum Alston?"
"Certainly; he always likes to see Mr. Lake."
"Well then?"
"The only thing is he needs complete rest."
"And so do I, but d'you think I'm going to take it? Not I! It's the resters get left. You might telegraph that to your husband, and say it comes straight from me."