"Nevill, old chap!" cried Jack, holding out a hand.
Nevill clasped it warmly; his momentary confusion had vanished.
"My dear Clare—" he began.
"Not that name," Jack interrupted, laughingly. "I'm called Vernon on this side of the Channel."
"What, John Vernon, the rising artist?"
"The same."
"It's news to me. I congratulate you, old man. If I had known I would have looked you up long ago, but I lost all trace of you."
"That's my case," said Jack. "I supposed you were still abroad. Been back long?"
"Yes, a couple of years."
"By Jove, it's queer we didn't meet before. Fancy you turning up here!"