Tommy faced round. "I say, like a good chap,--you've practically forced
this, you know--you're not going to--to let her go?"

Monck's eyes looked back straight and hard. He did not speak for a
moment; then, "You want to know my intentions, Tommy," he said. "You
shall. Your sister and I are observing a truce for the present, but it
won't last for ever. I am making plans for a move myself. I am going to
live at the Club."

"Is that going to help?" demanded Tommy bluntly.

Monck looked sardonic. "We mustn't offend the angels, you know, Tommy,"
he said.

Tommy made a sound expressive of gross irreverence. "Oh, that's it, is
it? Now we know where we are. I've been feeling pretty rotten about it,
I can tell you."

"You always were an ass, weren't you?" said Monck, getting up.

Tommy got up too, giving himself an impatient shake. He pushed an
apologetic hand through Monck's arm. "I can't expect ever to get even
with a swell like you," he said humbly,

Monck looked at him. Something in the boy's devotion seemed to move him,
for his eyes were very kindly though his laugh was ironic. "You'll have
an almighty awakening one of these days, my son," he said. "By the way,
if we are going to be brothers, you had better call me by my Christian
name."