“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, don’t talk so despondently. Remember it’s only a petty quarrel, after all,” he declared, endeavouring to cheer me up.
I tried again to laugh, saying, “Yes, that’s true, but absence makes the heart grow fonder—we’re told.”
“Very well, old fellow, if you won’t take my advice I can’t help it,” he observed disappointedly.
By this time we were at the corner of Adam Street, and I exclaimed, “By the way, what are you doing with yourself this evening?”
“Nothing.”
“Come and have a bit of dinner with Bob Nugent and myself at the Junior Garrick; I’m on my way there.”
“Thanks, you’re very kind. By Jove, I’ve had nothing to eat since I left the Dene, and I’m getting a trifle peckish!”
“Then come along,” I commanded. We turned into the Adelphi, and entered the club.
In the pleasant oak-panelled dining-room, the windows of which commanded a view of the Embankment Gardens and the river, half-a-dozen men had assembled. At one of the tables Nugent and Rivers were awaiting me.
They both rose and gave me a hearty greeting on entering, and, in turn, I introduced Demetrius, who, by his ready wit and entertaining manner, soon ingratiated himself with my two old friends.