exercise." That was the only remark that Miss de Millo addressed to
him during the meal (Miss Gladys de Mille, the banker's daughter,
known as "Baby" to her intimates). She was a stout and round-faced
girl, who devoted herself strictly to the business of lunching; and
Montague noticed at the end that she was breathing rather hard, and
that her big round eyes seemed bigger than ever.

Conversation was general about the table, but it was not easy
conversation to follow. It consisted mostly of what is known as
"joshing," and involved acquaintance with intimate details of
personalities and past events. Also, there was a great deal of slang
used, which kept a stranger's wits on the jump. However, Montague
concluded that all his deficiencies were made up for by his brother,
whose sallies were the cause of the loudest laughter. Just now he
seemed to the other more like the Oliver he had known of old--for
Montague had already noted a change in him. At home there had never
been any end to his gaiety and fun, and it was hard to get him to
take anything seriously; but now he kept all his jokes for company,
and when he was alone he was in deadly earnest. Apparently he was
working hard over his pleasures.

Montague could understand how this was possible. Some one, for
instance, had worked hard over the ordering of the lunch--to secure
the maximum of explosive effect. It began with ice-cream, moulded in
fancy shapes and then buried in white of egg and baked brown. Then
there was a turtle soup, thick and green and greasy; and
then--horror of horrors--a great steaming plum-pudding. It was
served in a strange phenomenon of a platter, with six long, silver
legs; and the waiter set it in front of Robbie Walling and lifted
the cover with a sweeping gesture--and then removed it and served it