all that it was stimulating.

Bill looked at his watch. He could spare half an hour. He set out
at once for the offices of the eminent law firm of Nichols,
Nichols, Nichols, and Nichols, of which aggregation of Nicholses
his friend Jerry was the last and smallest.




3


On a west-bound omnibus Claire Fenwick sat and raged silently in the
June sunshine. She was furious. What right had Lord Dawlish to look
down his nose and murmur '_Noblesse oblige_' when she asked him a
question, as if she had suggested that he should commit some crime?
It was the patronizing way he had said it that infuriated her, as if
he were a superior being of some kind, governed by codes which she
could not be expected to understand. Everybody nowadays did the sort
of things she suggested, so what was the good of looking shocked and
saying '_Noblesse oblige_'?

The omnibus rolled on towards West Kensington. Claire hated the
place with the bitter hate of one who had read society novels, and
yearned for Grosvenor Square and butlers and a general atmosphere
of soft cushions and pink-shaded lights and maids to do one's
hair. She hated the cheap furniture of the little parlour, the
penetrating contralto of the cook singing hymns in the kitchen,
and the ubiquitousness of her small brother. He was only ten, and