simple joys of the millionaire, really a child of nature. Some of them keep automatic hydraulic organs and beastly machines that sing. Now Macrae is not a man of that sort, and he has only one motor up here, and only uses that for practical purposes to bring luggage and supplies, but the wireless thing is the apple of his eye. And Blake sneered.’
‘He is usually very civil indeed, almost grovelling, to the father,’ said Lady Bude. ‘But I tell you for your benefit, Mr. Merton, that he has no chance with the daughter. I know it for certain. He only amuses her. Now here, you are clever.’
Merton bowed.
‘Clever, or you would not have diverted me from my question with all that science. You are not ill looking.’
‘Spare my blushes,’ said Merton; adding, ‘Lady Bude, if you must be answered, you are clever enough to have found me out.’
‘That needed less acuteness than you suppose,’ said the lady.
‘I am very sorry to hear it,’ said Merton. ‘You know how utterly hopeless it is.’
‘There I don’t agree with you,’ said Lady Bude.
Merton blushed. ‘If you are right,’ he said, ‘then I have no business to be here. What am I in the eyes of a man like Mr. Macrae? An adventurer, that is what he would think me. I did think that I had done nothing, said nothing, looked nothing, but having the chance—well, I could not keep away from her. It is not honourable. I must go. . . . I love her.’
Merton turned away and gazed at the sunset without seeing it.