Good afternoon!" The door was slammed to and they shot downwards.

Francis turned to the lift man.
"Do you know a Mr.Wilmore who comes here sometimes ?" he asked.
"Not likely!" the man scoffed.

"They're comin' and goin' all the time from four o'clock in the afternoon till eleven at night.

If I heard a name I shouldn't remember it.

This way out, gentlemen." Wilmore's hand was in his pocket but the man turned deliberately away.
They walked out into the street.
"For downright incivility," the former observed, "commend me to the attendants of a young men's gymnasium!" Francis smiled.
"All the same, old fellow," he said, "if you worry for another five minutes about Reggie, you're an ass." At six o'clock that evening Francis turned his two-seater into a winding drive bordered with rhododendrons, and pulled up before the porch of a charming two-storied bungalow, covered with creepers, and with French-windows opening from every room onto the lawns.