"To the old bounder, of course—to buck him up for to-night. I said 'Cheer up. You'll soon be dead.' That ought to encourage him."
Janey smiled wanly.
"Meantime I've got a piece of news for you. It'll make you laugh. But let's have a drink first—I'm dreadfully thirsty. This weather dries one up like blazes."
"There's beer in the cupboard."
"Right-O! Now we'll drink to Nigel's very good health. Have some, old girl. No? But I say, you look as if you needed it. You're as white as chalk."
"It's only the heat. What's your news, Len?"
"Nothing much, really—only that little misshapen monkey Quentin Lowe's engaged to be married."
"Quentin Lowe...."
Janey's voice seemed to her to come from very far away, as if some one in another part of the room were speaking. She grew sick and faint, but at the same time knew it was all ridiculous.