"I suppose you're after money," said the genial Isador, with that fine tact which always characterised him.
"I wanted to hear how your company is getting on," evaded the Honourable Jack, inwardly cursing him.
"Oh, don't you worry about the company, my boy. Help yourself to the fizz."
"Well, having your permission to ring for what I want, I'll take the liberty of calling for a bottle, with the ice placed outside instead of inside. All a matter of custom, you know."
Isador laughed.
"Right you are, my boy. Every man to his taste."
"How about the company?"
"Oh, the company's all right. Don't you bother about the company. I'll look after that."
"Who is to be chairman of your board of directors in place of Stranleigh?"
"You'll see when the prospectus comes out."
"A man of title?"
"Yes, and a hanged sight better title than your uppish friend Stranleigh."
"If that is true, I can guess his name if you give me a dozen tries."
"There's more than a dozen men in this country better than Lord Stranleigh. They come high, but we must have them. The investing public is composed of snobs, mostly."
