Savile arranged his tie in the mirror, and said in his slow, impressive way—
"I don't mention things. But the Governor doesn't care for that go-ahead set. And he's not wrong, either."
"We're only going to dine at Ranelagh,—to try her new motor, dear," said Felicity coaxingly.
"I thought you knew he was at Newmarket."
"Well! Take it as you like, and think me an interfering ass if you choose, but if I were you I'd somehow get Chetwode back from Newmarket,—and not go about so much with Mrs. Ogilvie."
"Why not, Savile?"
"Well, I shouldn't begin that drifting apart business, just yet. It's really rather rot, quite so soon. You're too young, and so on—been married a year, and I'm hanged if he's not fond of you still! Why do it? That's what I say——"
"A person may be very devoted, and a perfect husband, and sweet in every way, and not dream of drifting apart for ages and ages, and yet want to see Tobacco Trust run, darling!"
"I know,—and I've put my last shilling on Penultimate!"