"Please don't start quarrelling about money," she said pathetically. "I'm simply dying for a cup of tea."
There seemed to be something strangely familiar and attractive to Colin in the mere sound of her voice, and, running lightly up the staircase, he pressed both their hands in a simultaneous greeting.
"I'm so sorry," he exclaimed. "I was forgetting the brutal way in which Mark always treats his staff. I suppose he has been working you to death and half starving you at the same time."
"Of course I have," declared Mark. "Look at her worn and haggard appearance."
"Well, we haven't been exactly idle," admitted Nancy, laughing. "All the same, I think I am bearing up pretty well."
Mark led the way into the study, where a table was already laid, and waved his hand toward the largest of the armchairs.
"You take the seat of honour, Colin," he said. "It's a privilege we always keep for distinguished strangers."
"There's no need to rub it in," objected Colin. "I should have looked you up ages ago if it hadn't been for my devotion to duty. This is the first holiday I've had since I went to the Professor's."
"How are you getting on?" asked Nancy.
"Up to the present," replied Colin modestly, "I think I have given what they call complete satisfaction."