CHAPTER V


"Oh I say, I want you to stop a little," Henry St. George said to him at
eleven o'clock the night he dined with the head of the profession. The
company--none of it indeed _of_ the profession--had been numerous and was
taking its leave; our young man, after bidding good-night to his hostess,
had put out his hand in farewell to the master of the house. Besides
drawing from the latter the protest I have cited this movement provoked a
further priceless word about their chance now to have a talk, their going
into his room, his having still everything to say. Paul Overt was all
delight at this kindness; nevertheless he mentioned in weak jocose
qualification the bare fact that he had promised to go to another place
which was at a considerable distance.

"Well then you'll break your promise, that's all. You quite awful
humbug!" St. George added in a tone that confirmed our young man's ease.

"Certainly I'll break it--but it was a real promise."

"Do you mean to Miss Fancourt? You're following her?" his friend asked.

He answered by a question. "Oh is _she_ going?"

"Base impostor!" his ironic host went on. "I've treated you handsomely
on the article of that young lady: I won't make another concession. Wait
three minutes--I'll be with you." He gave himself to his departing