‟NO, thank you, Joicey,” said the Earl of Mansar for the third time, and the stout, good-looking young man who was his companion began rolling up the large plan with a pained expression.
It was an interesting chart, with parallelograms and rhomboids of pink and green, and he had talked himself hoarse in an endeavour to persuade his sometime comrade into agreement.
“I dare say it is all right,” said Mansar, tossing a cigarette into the extended palm of the Honourable Felix Joicey, “and I know that, so far as you are concerned, it is all right. There is a lot of oil in Roumania—though I’ve never heard that a gusher had gushed in the Doebnitz region—and as likely as not there is a fortune in the proposition.”
is“There are a dozen fortunes,” said the enthusiastic Mr. Joicey, and Lord Mansar
