A Damsel in Distress

"What's that?"

"Sir?"

"What did you say?"

"I said, 'No, sir, I have no brother'."

"Didn't you say something else?"

"No, sir."

"What?"

"No, sir."

Reggie's worst suspicions were confirmed.

"Good God!" he muttered. "Then I am!"

Miss Faraday, when he joined her on the settee, wanted an

explanation.

"What were you talking to that man about, Mr. Byng? You seemed to

be having a very interesting conversation."

"I was asking him if he had a brother."

Miss Faraday glanced quickly at him. She had had a feeling for some

time during the evening that his manner had been strange.

"A brother? What made you ask him that?"

"He--I mean--that is to say--what I mean is, he looked the sort of

chap who might have a brother. Lots of those fellows have!"

Alice Faraday's face took on a motherly look. She was fonder of

Reggie than that love-sick youth supposed, and by sheer accident he

had stumbled on the right road to her consideration. Alice Faraday

was one of those girls whose dream it is to be a ministering angel

to some chosen man, to be a good influence to him and raise him to

an appreciation of nobler things. Hitherto, Reggie's personality

had seemed to her agreeable, but negative. A positive vice like

over-indulgence in alcohol altered him completely. It gave him a

significance.

"I told him to get you a lemonade," said Reggie. "He seems to be

taking his time about it. Hi!"

George approached deferentially.

"Sir?"

"Where's that lemonade?"

"Lemonade, sir?"

"Didn't I ask you to bring this lady a glass of lemonade?"

"I did not understand you to do so, sir."

"But, Great Scott! What were we chatting about, then?"

"You were telling me a diverting story about an Irishman who landed

in New York looking for work, sir. You would like a glass of

lemonade, sir? Very good, sir."

Alice placed a hand gently on Reggie's arm.

"Don't you think you had better lie down for a little and rest, Mr.

Byng? I'm sure it would do you good."

The solicitous note in her voice made Reggie quiver like a jelly.

He had never known her speak like that before. For a moment he was

inclined to lay bare his soul; but his nerve was broken. He did not

want her to mistake the outpouring of a strong man's heart for the

irresponsible ravings of a too hearty diner. It was one of Life's

ironies. Here he was for the first time all keyed up to go right

ahead, and he couldn't do it.

"It's the heat of the room," said Alice. "Shall we go and sit

outside on the terrace? Never mind about the lemonade. I'm not

really thirsty."