"You don't quite get my meaning," persisted Freddie, crossing his legs
comfortably. "I was trying to make it easy for myself."
"You mean, you think she ought to marry you?"
"That's it, precisely. How clever you are."
"But you are said to be engaged to Miss Rodney," ventured Brock, feeling
his way.
"That's just the point, Mr. Medcroft. We're not really engaged--but
almost. As a matter of fact, we've got to the point where it's really up
to me to speak to her father about it, don't you know. Luckily, I
haven't."
"Luckily?"
"Yes. That would have committed me, don't you see. I've been tentatively
engaged more than a dozen times, but never quite up to the girl's
father. Now, I don't mind telling you that I've changed my mind about
Katherine. She's a jolly good sort, but she's not just _my_ sort. I
thought she was, but--well, you know how it is yourself. The heart's a
damned queer organ. Mine has gone back to Constance in the last two
days. You are her brother-in-law, and you're a good fellow, through and
through. I want your help. I've got money to burn, and the family's got
position in the States. I can take care of her as she should be taken
care of. No little old six-room flat for her. But, of course, you
understand, I can't quite carry the thing through with Katherine still
feeling herself attached, as it were. The thing to decide is this: how
best can I let Katherine down easily and take on Connie without putting
myself in a rather hazardous position? I'm a gentleman, you see, and I
can't do anything downright rotten.
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