"Hartley is very busy," said Coryndon, with the determination of a man
who intends to see what he has come to see. "I don't like to be
perpetually badgering him. Could I go alone?"

"You could," said Joicey shortly.

"I want to miss nothing."

Coryndon turned his head away and looked at the crowded room, fixing his
gaze on a whirring fan that hung low on a brass rod, and when he looked
round again, Joicey had got up and was making his way out into the
night. Fitzgibbon was surrounded by several other men, and there was no
sign of his friend Hartley, so he got up and slipped out, standing
hatless, until his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

The strong lights from the veranda encroached some way into the gloom,
and, here and there, a few people still sat around basket tables,
enjoying the evening air. Coryndon looked at them, with his head bent
forward, a little like a cat just about to emerge through a door into a
dark passage. For a little time, he stood there, watching and listening,
and then he turned away and walked out along the footpath, as though in
a hurry to get back to his bungalow.




XIII

PUTS FORWARD THE FACT THAT A SUDDEN FRIENDSHIP NEED NOT BE BASED UPON A