To his amazement he found his hand violently shaken.

"My dear old man!" Kirk was stammering in his delight. "My dear old
sport, you don't know what a weight you've taken off my mind. You know
how it is. A fellow falls in love and instantly starts thinking he
hasn't a chance on earth. I hadn't a notion she felt that way about me.
I'm not fit to shine her shoes. My dear old man, if you hadn't come and
told me this I never should have had the nerve to say a word to her.

"You're a corker. You've changed everything. You'll have to excuse me.
I must go to her. I can't wait a minute. I must rush and dress. Make
yourself at home here. Have you breakfasted? George! George! Say,
George, I've got to rush away. See that Mr. Bannister has everything he
wants. Get him some breakfast. Good-bye, old man." He gripped Bailey's
hand once more. "You're all right. Good-bye!"

He sprang for the staircase. George Pennicut turned to the speechless
Bailey.

"How would it be if I made you a nice cup of hot tea and a rasher of
'am, sir?" he inquired with a kindly smile.

Bailey eyed him glassily, then found speech.

"Go to hell!" he shouted. He strode to the door and shot into the
street, a seething volcano.

George, for his part, was startled, but polite.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Very good, sir," and withdrew.