"What on?" Max did not sound particularly encouraging. He proceeded to
light his pipe with exceeding deliberation. He despised cigars.

Nick closed his eyes. "In my capacity of chaperon," he said. "It's a
beastly difficult position by the way. I'm weighed down by
responsibility."

"So I've noticed," remarked Max drily.

"Well, you haven't done much to lighten the burden," said Nick. "I
suppose you haven't realized yet that I am one of the gods that control
your destiny."

"Well, no; I hadn't." Max leaned against the mantelpiece and smoked,
with his face to the ceiling. "I knew you were a species of deity of
course. I've been told that several times. And I humbly beg to offer you
my sympathy."

"Thanks!" Nick's eyes flashed open as if at the pulling of a string. "If
it isn't an empty phrase, I value it."

"I don't deal in empty phrases as a rule," said Max.

"Quite so. Only with a definite end in view? I hold that no one should
ever do or say anything without a purpose."

"So do I," said Max.

Nick's eyes flickered over him and closed again. "Then, my dear chap,"