But for once in a way Reggie had no answer. He was staring down the course, biting jerkingly at an unlit cigarette.
It was Gwendoline who broke the silence. "Poor Reggie," she said. "I can't let you starve. You must come and dine with us."
Tony thrust his hand into his pocket, and pulled out Reggie's five-pound note.
"Musette," he observed, "there is still corn in Egypt. What about the Savoy?"
Musette, who had been looking at him with rather troubled eyes, shook her head and smiled.
"No, Tony," she said; "I should be haunted by Mr. Seton's ghost. You must dine with me at Curzon Street."
"Perhaps it would be more decent," said Tony. "After all, Reggie was a friend of mine before he went under. I'll send the fiver to the Anti-Socialist fund."
Reggie, who seemed to have recovered himself, turned round with a laugh.
"Yours is a callous heart, Tony," he said. "Suppose we leave this scene of vice and get back to town. There's sure to be a poisonous crush after the last race."
"I'm ready," replied Musette.