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everything. If I’d had a hammer close to my hand I would have thrown it at Roy Sandys—as it was, I just said what I thought of him.”

“H’m! I see. I’m glad you didn’t have a hammer, or we’d both be getting into trouble. You must put a brake on your temper if you mean to get on in the world. Remember that, Tony. All these people will dislike you if you tell them what you think of them—as straight as I know you can.”

“I don’t mind them. They’re all right. I don’t like the women much.”

“And do they like you?”

“Yes,” drawled Tony.

“Oh? You know that, do you?”

“Mostly they do. But they want to kiss me, and say silly things, and I won’t let them.”

“You’re a hard-hearted young beggar!”

“So I’ve been told,” said Tony—“a heartless young devil. They always said that.”

“Who? The women?”

“No—everybody—ever since I can remember. So I might as well make up my mind to it.”

“It doesn’t seem to worry you much.”

“Plenty of other things to worry about.”

“Well—yes. . . . By the way, Tony, who are your people? Your mother was English, I think you said? If your father’s people are—if you don't like them, why don’t you ask your mother’s? I expect they’d want to do something for you.”

“I thought I told you about that.”

“You never told me much.”

“There wasn’t much to say. They wouldn’t have anything to do with her after she married him. They didn’t care. I don’t count that I have any people. I’m going to start fresh.”