"
"So it is in the moat at home. Half a score people were skating there
already as I drove away this morning. Tooley is five miles off. Why need
you take the trouble to go to Tooley?"
"Several people, last night, said they were going. I thought I might as
well go too."
"Where were you last night, Reggie? I don't want to tie you at home, by any
means, but sometimes I like to know where you have been."
"All right, Francis. Of course. There was a dance at the Days' in Queen
Anne Street. I've gone to it every New Year's Night, for years. I went
there."
"I see." The light hazel eyes of Sir Francis, according strangely with his
black hair and palely dusky complexion, considered his brother's cheerful
countenance.
"I'm going to ask you not to go to the Days' in Queen Anne Street any more,
Reggie," he said.
Reggie widely stared. "I don't think my going there, when I wish, and they
ask me, can do any harm to any one," he protested.
"Sit down, will you?" his brother said, and pointed to the chair on the
other side of the table by which he sat.
"I think not, now. I think I'll be off. The ice mayn't keep--"
The other still pointed to the chair. "What I want to say to you won't
keep--emphatically.
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