“Hello, Plank! Glad to see you.”
“Hello! Are you all right?”
“All right.... Much obliged for pulling me through. Wish you'd pull me through this Amalgamated Electric knot-hole, too—some day!”
“Do—do you mean it?” ventured Plank, turning red with delight.
“Mean it? Indeed I do—if you do. Sit here; ring for whatever you want—or perhaps you'd better go down to the sideboard. I'm not to be trusted with the odour in the room just yet.”
“I don't care for anything,” said Plank.
“Whenever you please, then. You know the house, and you don't mind my being unceremonious, do you?”
“No,” said Plank.
“Good!” rejoined Siward, laughing. “I expect the same friendly lack of ceremony from you.”
But that, for Plank, was impossible. All he could do was to care the more for Siward without crossing the border line so suddenly made free; all he could do was to sit there rolling and unrolling his gloves into wads with his clumsy, highly coloured hands, and gaze consciously at everything in the room except Siward.