Monty looked at him in astonishment. Here was the most popular boy in Groton School complaining of enemies. Monty felt a thrill that had something of enjoyment in it. His own upbringing had been so free from any danger and his parents had safeguarded him from so much trouble that he had found life insipid at times. Yet here was a man talking of enemies. It was fascinating.
“Do you mean it?” he demanded.
“Why not?” said Denby, rolling himself a cigarette.
“You hadn’t any at school,” Monty insisted.
“That was a dozen years ago nearly,” Denby insisted. “Since then—” He paused. “My career wouldn’t interest you, my financial expert, but I am safe in saying I have accumulated a number of persons who do not wish me well.”
“You must certainly meet Alice,” Monty asserted. “She’s like you. She often says I’m the only really uninteresting person she’s fond of.”
Denby assured himself that Alice would not interest him in the slightest degree and made haste to change the subject, but Monty held on to his chosen course.
“We’ll all dine together to-morrow night,” he cried.
“I’m afraid I’m too busy.”
“Too busy to dine with Alice Harrington when you’ve the opportunity?” Monty exclaimed. “Are you a woman-hater?”