"Our investments and our loans are of a different character," he
explained, "but I have no doubt that Fane, Harmon & Co.--"
"Why, both Fane and Harmon are members of the club!" laughed Selwyn.
"You don't expect Neergard to go to them?"
A peculiar expression flickered in Gerard's heavy features; perhaps he
thought that Fane and Harmon and Jack Ruthven were not above exploiting
their own club under certain circumstances. But whatever his opinion, he
said nothing further; and, suggesting that Selwyn remain to dine, went
off to dress.
A few moments later he returned, crestfallen and conciliatory:
"I forgot, Nina and I are dining at the Orchils. Come up a moment; she
wants to speak to you."
So they took the rose-tinted rococo elevator; Austin went away to his
own quarters, and Selwyn tapped at Nina's boudoir.
"Is that you, Phil? One minute; Watson is finishing my hair. . . . Come
in, now; and kindly keep your distance, my friend. Do you suppose I want
Rosamund to know what brand of war-paint I use?"
"Rosamund," he repeated, with a good-humoured shrug; "it's likely--isn't
it?"
"Certainly it's likely.
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