"So am I," returned his guest. "It would have broken my heart to refuse an invitation like this."
Mark grinned broadly, and, thrusting his arm through his companion's, piloted him across the lounge in the direction of the grill-room door.
"I've ordered a table," he announced, "so unless you'd rather wait a bit we may as well have lunch right away."
"That will suit me," said Colin cheerfully. "I breakfasted at eight, and I've just walked up from the hospital."
Following an obsequious gentleman, who apparently recognized Mark, they threaded their way through the room and took their places at a small table in the opposite corner, which looked out into the courtyard.
Mark picked up the menu and studied it with some care.
"What do you say about oysters to start with?" he suggested. "A dozen oysters each and a bottle of Chablis?"
"It's a good idea," admitted Colin. "Especially the Chablis."
"We can discuss what we'll have afterward while we're eating them," continued his host. He gave the order, and, as the waiter departed, he sat back in his chair and took a genial survey of the restaurant.
"What is the precise meaning of this debauch?" inquired Colin. "Is it your birthday or have you been backing the winner of the Cesarewitch?"