Chapter 24

Lance had come to the window feeling a little sorry for his father, but there was something in that smile which checked the flow of this feeling. At the age of fifteen Lance had collected stamps, and had given his collection away at the end of eighteen months. Rotten bad business! His father, jokingly, had told him so at the time. And here was his father, fiftyish where the son had been fifteen, but giving nothing away without a swivel eye on the profit or the “advert.” Sir Probyn still spoke of “adverts.” It irrit…