"If any one should call, sir?" asked Ropes interrogatively.
Tony picked up his cap.
"Tell them," he said, "that it is more blessed to give than to receive."
"Yes, sir," replied Ropes gravely.
Three minutes afterwards, with Tony at the wheel and Reggie reclining luxuriously in the beautiful limousine body, the big Rolls-Royce drew noiselessly away down Piccadilly. Whatever Tony's shortcomings might be, he could certainly drive a car. Threading his way through the traffic with a very poetry of judgment, he glided round the corner of Park Lane, and, cutting across the bows of an onrushing motor omnibus, disappeared in the direction of Curzon Street before the indignant brake-grabbing driver of the latter could recall a single adequate word.
In front of a small, recently painted house he brought the big six-cylinder to a standstill. Then he turned round.
"I'll ring," he said. "Don't you trouble to get out."
"I wasn't going to," replied Reggie pleasantly.
As a matter of fact, there was no necessity for the exertion, for just as Tony was preparing to disembark, the door of the house opened, and a tall, pleasant-looking girl, neatly dressed in blue serge, stepped out on to the pavement.
Tony jumped down and took off his cap, while Reggie gracefully rose and imitated his example.