complexion, jovial among his friends, and perhaps even more
jovial with chance acquaintances. It was estimated by envious
intimates that his joviality with chance acquaintances, specially
with young men of the upper classes, with large purses and small
foreheads--was worth hundreds of pounds a year to him. There was
something about his comfortable appearance and his jolly manner
that irresistibly attracted a certain type of young man. It was
his good fortune that this type of young man should be the type
financially most worth attracting.

Freddie Threepwood had fallen under his spell during his short
but crowded life in London. They had met for the first time at
the Derby; and ever since then R. Jones had held in Freddie's
estimation that position of guide, philosopher and friend which
he held in the estimation of so many young men of Freddie's
stamp.

That was why, at twelve o'clock punctually on this Spring day, he
tapped with his cane on R. Jones' ground glass, and showed such
satisfaction and relief when the door was opened by the
proprietor in person.

"Well, well, well!" said R. Jones rollickingly. "Whom have we
here? The dashing bridegroom-to-be, and no other!"

R. Jones, like Lord Emsworth, was delighted that Freddie was
about to marry a nice girl with plenty of money. The sudden
turning off of the tap from which Freddie's allowance had flowed
had hit him hard. He had other sources of income, of course; but
few so easy and unfailing as Freddie had been in the days of his