He was not subtle minded
enough to be aware that her reply to a casual remark he had made
to her at dinner had had a remote effect upon him.
"One of the loveliest creatures I ever saw was a Mrs. Gareth-Lawless,"
he had said. "Are you related to her?"
"I am her daughter," Robin had answered and with a slightly startled
sensation he had managed to slip into amiably deft generalities
while he had secretly wondered how much his grandmother knew or
did not know.
An involuntary thought of Feather had crossed his mind once or
twice during the evening. This was the girl who, it was said, had
actually been saved up for old Coombe. Ugly morbid sort of idea
if it was true. How had the Duchess got hold of her and why and
what was Coombe really up to? Could he have some elderly idea
of wanting a youngster for a wife? Occasionally an old chap did.
Serve him right if some young chap took the wind out of his sails.
He was not a desperate character, but he had been very intimate
with Mrs. Alan Stacy and her friends and it had made him careless.
Also Robin had drawn him--drawn him more than he knew.
"Is it still heavenly?" he asked. (How pointed her fingers were
and how soft and crushable her hand looked as it splashed like a
child's.)
"More heavenly every minute," she answered. He laughed outright.
"The heavenly thing is the way you are enjoying it yourself.
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