"Is Eileen at home?"
Lord Caterham felt reprieved, but slightly surprised.
"Yes, yes," he said. "Bundle's here. Got that friend of hers with her—the little Wade girl. Very nice girl—very nice girl. Going to be quite a good golfer one day. Nice easy swing—"
He was chatting garrulously on when George interrupted with ruthlessness:
"I am glad Eileen is at home. Perhaps I might have an interview with her presently?"
"Certainly, my dear fellow, certainly." Lord Caterham still felt very surprised, but was still enjoying the sensation of reprieve. "If it doesn't bore you."
"Nothing could bore me less," said George. "I think, Caterham, if I may say so, that you hardly appreciate the fact that Eileen is grown up. She is no longer a child. She is a woman, and if I may say so, a very charming and talented woman. The man who succeeds in winning her love will be extremely lucky. I repeat it—extremely lucky."
"Oh, I daresay," said Lord Caterham. "But she's very restless, you know. Never content to be in one place for more than two minutes together. However, I daresay young fellows don't mind that nowadays."
"You mean that she is not content to stagnate. Eileen has brains, Caterham; she is ambitious. She interests herself in the questions of the day, and brings her fresh and vivid young intellect to bear upon them."
Lord Caterham stared at him. It occurred to him that what was so often referred to as "the strain of modern life," had begun to tell upon George. Certainly his description of Bundle seemed to Lord Caterham ludicrously unlike.