"Yes, I suppose so."
The tone in which he spoke was ironical, but his companion didn't notice
it.
"Do you know Paulton well?" the elder man asked himself.
"As well as I care to. Why do you ask?"
"Only just out of curiosity. Many people form an unfavourable
impression of him when they meet him first, and afterwards they come to
like him."
"That's the reverse of my case," answered the young man quickly. "The
first time I met him I rather liked him, I remember. But after I had
met him several times--well, I changed about him. He may be all right!
I dare say he is. I suppose our personalities are not akin, as I have
heard some one put it."
"He's a fine shot."
"You are right. He is. I thought he would win the cup to-day."
"The bird that knocked him out was badly hit. If he had killed it, he
would have won second money."
The young Englishman lay back, stretched himself, and yawned. "I'm
getting fed up with this place," he said at last. "I shall get back to
England in a day or two. How long shall you remain here?"
"It depends--partly on Dago. We're running a sort of syndicate
together, you know--or probably you don't know. He has to see one or
two men here about it before we leave."
"What sort of syndicate?"
"I am afraid I'm not at liberty to tell you--yet. I can tell you this--
though, we have a lady interested in it, a very pretty girl. That ought
to appeal to you," and he laughed.
"Have I seen her?" the young man asked, looking at him curiously.