and malice declared that Mrs. Malone had _no_ favourites among
her own sex.) She was drawn to the boy by his air of good breeding and
admirable manners; also she noticed with secret indignation how
shamefully his mother neglected and snubbed him. She took far more
notice of Jimmy Black, or Sandy Larcher, than of her own son. No doubt
she disliked to be so unmistakably dated by his tall, well-grown youth,
and her hostess mentally agreed with a gossip who declared that "Mrs.
Shafto didn't care a pin for her boy--rather the other way, and if she
had kept her figure, she could never keep her word, or a secret--and
was a hard, selfish, grasping woman."

Although Shafto and his mother lived under the same roof, she,
figuratively, sat with folded hands as far as he was concerned; it was
kindly Mrs. Malone who looked after his little comforts, saw that his
socks were mended, and made him a hot drink when he had a heavy cold.
Also, as a special honour, she invited him to her "den," gave him a cup
of coffee, or a glass of port, and talked to him of her Irish home and
her young days. Once upon a time she had been a capital horsewoman,
and it was strange to hear this old lady and the bright-eyed youth
comparing notable runs.

One day in the Strand at luncheon hour, Shafto came face to face with
his old friend Geoffrey Tremenheere, looking bronzed, splendidly fit,
and independent as a prince.

"Hallo, Douglas!" he exclaimed. "Well, if this isn't a piece of luck!
How are you, old man?"

"AH right--and you?"

"I arrived from India yesterday and go up to Scotland to-night--the
family are all on the moors. I've just been looking for a pair of
guns. Come and give your opinion, and then we will lunch. I'm
stopping at the Grand."

"I'd like to awfully, I need not tell you, Geoff, but I've got to be
back at 1.15 sharp--it's mail day."

"Oh, hang mail day! Come along and lunch--and let us have a good old
_bukh_!"

"I don't know what that means--but I'll be glad of lunch, and more glad
of a bit of a jaw!"

"Now, tell me all about yourself, Douglas," said his schoolfellow, as
they sat _vis-a-vis_ in the marble hall. "You don't look particularly
chirpy. Still in the office?"

"Yes--I expect to live and die there."

"Poor old boy--and doing work you hate!"

"Oh, I'm getting used to it now. I shall manage to hang on."

"And Mrs. Shafto--how is she?"

"As usual--going strong. We live in the same boarding-house."