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One, who was dark and handsome, I did not know. The other was Mrs Drassilis. I was given no leisure for wondering how Cynthia's mother came to be in the grounds of Sanstead House, for her companion, almost before the car had stopped, jumped out and clutched me by the arm, at the same time uttering this cryptic speech: 'Whatever he offers I'll double!
I won't give you up. 'It's too late, she said, with a little catch in her voice. 'You are engaged to Mrs Ford. 'I am engaged, but not to Mrs Ford. I am engaged to someone you have never met Cynthia Drassilis. She pulled her hand away quickly, wide-eyed, and for some moments was silent. 'Do you love her? she asked at last. 'No. 'Does she love you?
She spoke bitterly. She was following the automobile with an offended eye as it moved down the drive. The car rounded the corner. Sam turned and waved a farewell. Mr and Mrs Ford, seated close together in the tonneau, did not even look round. Mrs Drassilis sniffed disgustedly. 'She's a friend of Cynthia's. Cynthia asked me to come down here with her to see you. I came, to oblige her.
I arrived at Marlow Square, where I was to pick up Cynthia and her mother, a little late, and found Mrs Drassilis, florid and overdressed, in the drawing-room with a sleek-haired, pale young man known to me as Tankerville Gifford to his intimates, of whom I was not one, and in the personal paragraphs of the coloured sporting weeklies, as 'Tanky'. I had seen him frequently at restaurants.
To sum him up, he was a most unspeakable little cad, and, if the drawing-room had not been Mrs Drassilis's, I should have wondered at finding him in it. Mrs Drassilis introduced us. 'I think we have already met, I said. He stared glassily. 'Don't remember. I was not surprised. At this moment Cynthia came in.
Cynthia, I imagined, would have broken the news already, which would mitigate the embarrassment of the interview to some extent; but the recollection of my last night's encounter with Mrs Drassilis prevented me from looking forward with any joy to the prospect of meeting her again. Cynthia's voice greeted me as I unhooked the receiver. 'Hullo, Peter! Is that you?
In their opinion the Hon. Hugo Drassilis had married beneath him not so far beneath him as to make the thing a horror to be avoided in conversation and thought, but far enough to render them coldly polite to his wife during his lifetime and almost icy to his widow after his death.
He considered that, by doubling the income derived from Hugo's life-insurance and inviting Cynthia to the family seat once a year during her childhood, he had done all that could be expected of him in the matter. He had not. Mrs Drassilis expected a great deal more of him, the non-receipt of which had spoiled her temper, her looks, and the peace of mind of all who had anything much to do with her.
The world was itself again, and I was listening quietly and with a mild interest which, try as I would, I could not make any stronger. I had exhausted my emotion on the essential fact: the details were an anticlimax. 'I liked him directly I saw him, said Mrs Drassilis. 'And, of course, as he was such a friend of yours, we naturally 'A friend of mine? 'I am speaking of Lord Mountry. 'Mountry?
'Oh no, sir, I assure you! 'There is. What guarantee have I that you won't double-cross me? Sam smiled, relieved. 'You forget that I told you I was about to be married, sir. My wife won't let me! Mr Ford waved his hand towards the automobile. 'Jump in, he said briefly, 'and tell him where to drive to. You're engaged! 'No manners! said Mrs Drassilis. 'None whatever. I always said so.
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