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Updated: May 26, 2025
Do you understand? Very well, then. Good morning." The door closed. Lord Marshmoreton walked away feeling that he had been commendably stern. George filled his pipe and sat smoking thoughtfully. He wondered what Maud was doing at that moment. Maud at that moment was greeting her brother with a bright smile, as he limped downstairs after a belated shave and change of costume.
Lord Marshmoreton gave one wistful glance through the open window. Then he sat down with a sigh, and felt for his reading-glasses. Your true golfer is a man who, knowing that life is short and perfection hard to attain, neglects no opportunity of practising his chosen sport, allowing neither wind nor weather nor any external influence to keep him from it.
Selected is perhaps hardly the right word, as it implies choice, and in George's case there was no choice. There are two inns at Belpher, but the Marshmoreton Arms is the only one that offers accommodation for man and beast, assuming that is to say that the man and beast desire to spend the night.
"I've been meaning to tell you about that," he said. "About what?" "About Miss Dore. I married her myself last Wednesday," said Lord Marshmoreton, and disappeared like a diving duck. At a quarter past four in the afternoon, two days after the memorable dinner-party at which Lord Marshmoreton had behaved with so notable a lack of judgment, Maud sat in Ye Cosy Nooke, waiting for Geoffrey Raymond.
"There are limits, I hope, to even your indiscretions." Lord Marshmoreton cleared his throat. He was sorry for Maud, whom he loved. "Now, looking at the matter broadly " "Be quiet," said Lady Caroline. Lord Marshmoreton subsided. "I wanted to avoid you," said Maud, "so I jumped into the first cab I saw." "I don't believe it," said Percy. "It's the truth."
I I daresay you have noticed it yourself." "My hobby is gardening." Light broke upon George. "Then was it really you ?" "It was!" George sat down. "This opens up a new line of thought!" he said. Lord Marshmoreton remained standing. He shook his head sternly. "It won't do, Mr. . . . I have never heard your name."
He looked across the table with more vivid interest. The amorous Plummer had been just a Voice to him till now. It was exciting to see him in the flesh. "And who are the rest of them?" "They are all members of the family. I thought you knew them." "I know Lord Marshmoreton. And Lady Maud. And, of course, Lord Belpher."
"How can you explain? You my nephew, the heir to the title, behaving like a common rowdy in the streets of London . . . your name in the papers . . . " "If you knew the circumstances." "The circumstances? They are in the evening paper. They are in print." "In verse," added Lord Marshmoreton. He chuckled amiably at the recollection. He was an easily amused man. "You ought to read it, my boy.
London," he proceeded, warming to the argument and thrilled by the clearness and coherence of his reasoning, "is full of girls who take cabs." "She didn't take a cab." "You just said she did," said Lord Marshmoreton cleverly. "I said she got into a cab. There was somebody else already in the cab. A man. Aunt Caroline, it was the man."
"I don't know what you call rich, but, keeping on the safe side, I should say that George pulls down in a good year, during the season around five thousand dollars a week." Lord Marshmoreton was frankly staggered. "A thousand pounds a week! I had no idea!" "I thought you hadn't. And, while I'm boosting George, let me tell you another thing. He's one of the whitest men that ever happened.
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