A youngish man, who was sitting in a corner, rose and shook the creases from his trousers and glanced at the clock.
“I at least have to go,” he said.
“You needn’t hurry away!”
Wynne touched Quiltan on the arm. “Never stay a pioneer,” he implored. “ ‘For the rest shall follow after by the bones upon the way,’ to quote Kipling.”
Ten minutes after his arrival he had cleared the room completely. The guests departed without apparent resentment: indeed, one lady gave Wynne her card, and said, “You positively must come and be amusing at one of my Thursdays.”
Quiltan was wearing an expression of some annoyance when he returned after bidding farewell to the last of the company.
“It is all very well,” he said; “but what precisely do you want?”
Before answering Wynne took an easy inspection of the man before him.
Lane Quiltan was tall, well built, and very pleasant to look upon. His features were attractive and regular, his voice and expression were compelling of confidence. At a glance Wynne summed him up as a “good fellow, and a good deal more.”
“Well?” said Quiltan.