“Well, you ought to,” Roger said severely. “You’re engaged, aren’t you?”
“No,” Alec replied mournfully. After all, Roger would have to know some time that the engagement had been broken off.
Roger stared at him in amazement. “No? But you got engaged to Barbara yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Alec, still more mournfully. “But we broke it off to-day. Or postponed it, rather, It may be on again in a month or so, I hope.”
“But why, in the name of goodness?”
“Oh, for—for certain reasons,” Alec said lamely. “We decided it was the best thing to do. Er—private reasons, you know.”
“Good Lord, I’m awfully sorry to hear it, old man,” said Roger genuinely. “I hope things will come all right for you in the end; and if there’s anything in the world that I can do, you know you’ve only got to say the word. There isn’t a couple anywhere that I’d sooner see fixed up than you and Barbara. You’re quite the nicest two people I know.” Roger was in the habit of disregarding the convention that a man should never under any circumstances display emotion in the presence of another man, just as heartily as he violated all other conventions.
Alec flushed with pleasure. “Thanks awfully, old chap,” he said gruffly. “I knew I could rely on you. But really, there isn’t anything you could possibly do. And things will come out all right, I feel sure.”
“Well, I sincerely hope so, or I’ll wring young Barbara’s neck for her,” said Roger; and both men knew that the topic was closed, until or unless Alec himself chose to reopen it.
“And about this powder?” Alec prompted.