He would not have liked it himself if his two best friends had
been at daggers drawn. Still, he could not bring himself to treat Fenn
as if nothing had happened, simply to oblige Silver. There had been a
time when he might have done it, but now that Fenn had started a
deliberate campaign against him by giving Wren--and probably, thought
Kennedy, half the other fags in the house--leave down town when he
ought to have sent them on to him, things had gone too far. However,
he could do no harm by going over to Jimmy's to tea, even if Fenn was
there. He had not looked to interview Fenn before an audience, but if
that audience consisted only of Jimmy, it would not matter so much.
His advent surprised Fenn. The astute James, fancying that if he
mentioned that he was expecting Kennedy to tea, Fenn would make a bolt
for it, had said nothing about it.
When Kennedy arrived there was one of those awkward pauses which are
so difficult to fill up in a satisfactory manner.
"Now you're up, Fenn," said Jimmy, as the latter rose, evidently with
the intention of leaving the study, "you might as well reach down that
toasting-fork and make some toast."
"I'm afraid I must be off now, Jimmy," said Fenn.
"No you aren't," said Silver. "You bustle about and make yourself
useful, and don't talk rot. You'll find your cup on that shelf over
there, Kennedy.
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