A black oak gate-legged table, gleaming with flowers, fruit, and silver, stood out attractively in the centre of the room, while the spring sunshine, streaming in through the open French window, bathed everything in its warm, inspiriting rays. Tony himself looking delightfully cool and serene in a perfectly cut grey morning suit, was lounging on the broad window-seat gazing out into the garden.
He turned round at Guy's entrance.
"Hullo, old chap!" he observed pleasantly: "just out of bed?"
Guy took no notice of this irreverent question. He advanced to the table, and adjusting his pince-nez, carefully inspected its contents.
"If you will forgive my saying so, Tony," he remarked, "you are becoming shamelessly greedy. Where on earth did you get these peaches and hothouse grapes from?"
"I sent Jennings into Harrod's for them," answered Tony. "A little morning exercise is good for him, and I have a friend coming to breakfast."
"Oh!" said Guy. "Any one I know?"
Tony shook his head. "I don't think so. In fact we only became acquainted ourselves last night."
"One of your curious sporting acquaintances, I suppose?" observed Guy with a faint touch of disapproval.
Tony smiled pensively. "Yes," he said, "on the whole I think we may pass the description. If you will wait and have breakfast with us I shall be charmed to introduce you."