small clan."

"His mother's the Honourable," said Quinby, with studious unconcern, yet
I fancied with increased interest in me.

"I used to see something of them both," I deliberately admitted, "when
the lad was little. How has he turned out?"

Quinby gave his peculiar nasal laugh.

"A nice youth," said he. "A very nice youth!"

"Do you mean nice or nasty?" I asked, inclined to bridle at his tone.

"Oh, anything but nasty," said Quinby. "Only--well--perhaps a bit rapid
for his years!"

I stooped and put my name in the book before making any further remark.
Then I handed Quinby my cigarette-case, and we sat down on the nearest
lounge.

"Rapid, is he?" said I. "That's quite interesting. And how does it take
him?"

"Oh, not in any way that's discreditable; but as a matter of fact,
there's a gay young widow here, and they're fairly going it!"

I lit my cigarette with a certain unexpected sense of downright
satisfaction. So there was something in it after all. It had seemed such
a fool's errand in the train.