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Updated: May 24, 2025
Had she not carried me away in precisely the same manner once upon a time? Gunton-Cresswell were not serious. He thanked me, but said I had frightened her to such good purpose that the date would now have to stand. "You will not he surprised to hear," he added, "that I have called in all my work. I shall want every penny I make. The expenses of an engaged man are hair-raising.
Invitations still arrived from her, but her afternoon parties clashed with my after-breakfast pipe, and as for her evening receptions well, by the time I had pieced together the various component parts of my dress clothes, I found myself ready for bed. That is to say, more ready for bed than I usually am. I went to Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell in a very bitter mood. I was bent on trouble.
"I've come to congratulate Eva," I said. Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell sighed. "I was afraid of this," she said. "The announcement was the more pleasant," I went on, "because James has been a bosom friend of mine." "I'm afraid you are going to be extremely disagreeable about your cousin's engagement," she said. "I am," I answered her. "Very disagreeable.
I felt it was the supreme event of my life. It was the moment. And surely I should have spoilt it all unless my old-time friends had been sitting near me. Eva and Julian were with Mr. and Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell in the box opposite us. To the Barrel Club I had sent the first row of the dress circle. It was expensive, but worth it. Hatton and Sidney Price were in the stalls.
Gunton-Cresswell, "hitherto you have acted manfully toward Eva. You have been brave. Have you no regard for Eva?" "None," I said. "Nor for Mr. Cloyster?" "Not a scrap." "But why are you behaving in this appallingly selfish way?" This was a facer. I couldn't quite explain to her how things really were, so I said: "Never you mind. Selfish or not, Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell, I'm out for trouble."
Yes, yes! Extraordinary. Curious coincidence. Excursus on smallness of world. Queer old gentleman, Mr. Gunton-Cresswell. He is, indeed. Quite one of the old school. Oh, quite. Still wears that beaver hat? Does he really? Yes. Ha, ha! Yes. Here the humanising influence of the Teutonic school of philosophic analysis was demonstrated by my mother's action. Mr.
Her wonderful eyes met mine. The mist in them seemed to turn to dew. "My darling," she whispered, very low. The road was deserted. We were alone. I drew her face to mine and kissed her. My love for her grows daily. Old Gunton-Cresswell has introduced me to a big firm of linoleum manufacturers. I am taking over their huge system of advertising next week. My salary will be enormous.
Gunton-Cresswell, looking rather wry, was taking cover in his study when I arrived. Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell was in the drawing-room. Before Eva came down I got a word alone with her. "I've had a nice, straight-forward letter from James," she said, "and he has done all he can to put things straight with us." "Ah!" said I. "That telegram, he tells me, was the outcome of a sudden panic." "Dear me!"
Hurried footsteps on my staircase. A loud tapping at my door. The church clock chiming twelve. The agitated, weeping figure of Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell approaching my hammock. A telegram thrust into my hand. Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell's hysterical exclamation, "You infamous monster you you are at the bottom of this." All very disconcerting. All, fortunately, very unusual.
And I shoved the bilious-hued telegraph form under his nose, just as Mrs. Gunton-Cresswell had shoved it under mine. "It means that I'm done," he said. "I don't understand." "I'll explain. I have postponed my marriage for the same reason that I refused you a clean cup because I cannot afford luxuries." "It may be my dulness; but, still, I don't follow you. What exactly are you driving at?"
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