ought to wear the V.C., if ever there was one," he ended, thrusting an
arm through Charlie's, as the latter, having put on his coat, turned
once more towards them.

"Oh, you are utterly wrong," the boy said forcibly, almost angrily. "If
you judge a man by what he does on impulse you might decorate the
biggest blackguard in the world with the V.C."

"You're made of impulse, my dear lad," Bertie remarked, walking off with
him. "You're a mass of impulse. That's why you do such idiotic things."

Charlie yielded, chafing, to the friendly hand.

"I should like to kick you, Bertie," he said.

But he went no further than that. Bertie Richmond was his very good
friend, and he was Bertie's. Neither of them was likely to forget that
fact.


VIII

"Oh, Charlie, here you are! I _am_ glad!"

Molly entered the smoking-room with an air of resolution. She had just
returned from evening church with Fisher. They were late, and the latter
had gone off to dress forthwith.

But Molly had glanced into the smoking-room, and, seeing Charlie alone
there, as she had half hoped but scarcely expected, she entered.