of it. His engagement had been so sudden. Jill had swept into his
life like a comet. His mother knew nothing of her. A month ago he had
known nothing of her himself. It would, he perceived, as far as the
benevolent approval of Lady Underhill was concerned, have been an
altogether different matter had his choice fallen upon one of those
damsels whose characters, personality, and ancestry she knew.
Daughters of solid and useful men; sisters of rising young
politicians like himself; nieces of Burke's peerage; he could have
introduced without embarrassment one of these in the role of
bride-elect. But Jill . . . Oh, well, when once his mother had met
Jill, everything was sure to be all right. Nobody could resist Jill.
It would be like resisting the sunshine.

Somewhat comforted by this reflection, Derek turned to begin one more
walk along the platform, and stopped in mid-stride, raging. Beaming
over the collar of a plaid greatcoat, all helpfulness and devotion,
Freddie Rooke was advancing towards him, the friend that sticketh
closer than a brother. Like some loving dog, who, ordered home,
sneaks softly on through alleys and by-ways, peeping round corners
and crouching behind lamp-posts, the faithful Freddie had followed
him after all. And with him, to add the last touch to Derek's
discomfiture, were those two inseparable allies of his, Ronny
Devereux and Algy Martyn.

"Well, old thing," said Freddie, patting Derek encouragingly on the
shoulder, "here we are after all! I know you told me not to roil
round and so forth, but I knew you didn't mean it. I thought it over
after you had left, and decided it would be a rotten trick not to
cluster about you in your hour of need. I hope you don't mind Ronny
and Algy breezing along, too. The fact is, I was in the deuce of a