"
"Why?"
"Oh! I don't know. I thought you had a good bit of opposition to contend
with."
Old Heythorp looked at him.
"Your grandmother!" he said; then, with his habitual instinct of attack,
added: "You make the most of your opportunities, I see."
At this rude assault Bob Pillin's red-cheeked face assumed a certain
dignity. "I don't know what you mean, sir. Mrs. Larne is very kind to
me."
"No doubt. But don't try to pick the flowers."
Thoroughly upset, Bob Pillin preserved a dogged silence. This fortnight,
since he had first met Phyllis in old Heythorp's hall, had been the most
singular of his existence up to now. He would never have believed that a
fellow could be so quickly and completely bowled, could succumb without
a kick, without even wanting to kick. To one with his philosophy of
having a good time and never committing himself too far, it was in the
nature of "a fair knock-out," and yet so pleasurable, except for the
wear and tear about one's chances. If only he knew how far the old
boy really counted in the matter! To say: "My intentions are strictly
honourable" would be old-fashioned; besides--the old fellow might have
no right to hear it.
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