Chapter 17

Lance had closed the door. He had come and stood by the table with that air of alert gravity which was so disturbing to his father. The lad was so full of silences. Sir Probyn, very conscious of his son’s eyes and of the fact that Lance was being detained there like a dog called back when it is bent upon some adventure of its own, had smiled and tried to make an easy movement in his chair. “I have a board-meeting to-morrow. Care to drive me up?” “The Buick?” “No—the Daimler. Good opportunity. I’d like you to come w…