him. Meanwhile, the stranger, despite his avowedly festive spirit,
showed a certain reserve.

When the music again struck up he declined to dance, preferring to
remain with Higgins in their inconspicuous corner.

"There's a fine fellow," the latter remarked, following his best
friend's figure with his eyes, when he and Locke were once more
alone. "Sweet nature."

"Anthony? Yes, he looks it."

"He's got just two faults, I always say: he's too modest by far
and he's lazy--won't work."

"He doesn't have to work. His old man has plenty of coin, hasn't
he?"

"Yes, and he'll keep it, too. Heartless old wretch. Mr.--What's
your name, again?"

"Locke."

"Mr. Locke." The speaker stared mournfully at his companion.
"D'you know what that unnatural parent did?"

"No."

"He let his only son and heir go to jail."