"Yes. Looking after men who would stay out to all hours, and regale
themselves upon cake and all sorts of indigestible stuff. And more
than that, Shock is outside waiting."

"Oh," cried Betty, "do bring him in. For years Helen and I have
known him, and yet we don't know him. Bring him in."

"Can you not persuade him to come in?" urged Helen.

"I am sure I cannot. But if you were to try--" The Don paused,
looking doubtfully at her. Helen hesitated.

"Oh, he's awful, I know. He will hardly speak to me," interrupted
Betty. "But if you'll come with me I'll humble myself before him."

In a moment or two, sure enough, they returned, with Shock
following.

He was a big man, gaunt and bony, with a mighty pair of shoulders
topped by a square, massive head on which bristled a veritable shock
of coarse, yellow hair. But he had a strong, honest face, and good,
deep blue eyes. He seemed too big for the room, and after shaking
hands awkwardly with Helen, who had gone forward to meet him, he
subsided into, deep arm-chair, struggling with his hands and feet.

The contrast between Shock on the one hand, and the elegant Lloyd
and the handsome Don on the other, could hardly be more striking.
All in the room were conscious of this contrast and sought in every,
way to minimise it. Betty plunged into football talk, to which Shock
listened for the most part smilingly silent.