Mr. Moss offered to bet that where girls were concerned he was never
far wrong. "Slap-dash style is what they like," he remarked, and with
a careless "It's all they understand" dismissed the subject.
It remained, however, in Bob's mind throughout the evening; sprang
instantly when, after breakfast upon the following day, he caught a
glimpse of Mary as he prepared for the City.
Standing for a moment in the hall, it occurred to him that this very
evening offered the opportunity he sought. Mr. and Mrs. Chater were to
dine at the house of a neighbour. The invitation had included Bob--
fortunately he had refused it. Returning to the morning-room, "I
shan't be in to-night," he told his mother.
"Then I needn't order any dinner for you?"
"No." He hung about irresolute, then lit a cigar, and between the
puffs, "Shall you be late?" he asked carelessly.
"Sure to be," Mrs. Chater told him. "It's going to be a big bridge
drive, you know. We shan't get back before midnight. Don't sit up for
us, dear."
Bob inhaled a long breath from his cigar, exhaled it deliciously. The
chance for the slap-dash style was at hand.
"Oh, I'll be later than you. Lemmy Moss has got a bachelors' party on.
We're going to have a billiard match."
"That's capital then, dear. I shall let the servants go to Earl's
Court--I've promised them a long time.
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