“A house!” murmured Blanche, clasping her hands, and obviously seeing herself helping to arrange the flowers in it.
“A charming house, only fifteen miles from here. Just the place for Billy and his Nancy to settle down in when they get married,” enlarged the elderly enfant terrible. “In fact, once they’ve seen it, they’ll want to motor on and order that special licence at once, I shouldn’t wonder!”
Mercy! I turned my eyes to Mrs. Waters, as if imploring her help to change the conversation; she only nodded and smiled and murmured: “Pretty blouse—I always like you in lacy white things, Nancy!”
There was no checking Uncle Albert; on he went:
“I was looking at the place only last week, and it’s still going! There’s a rose-garden, my dear, almost as prettily arranged as the one here that you were billing and cooing in just now. And a splendid vegetable garden for the more practical side of life. South aspect!—Very excellent fish-curry, Mary—Nice, airy bedrooms! And”—his voice took on an impressive rallentando—“Now, what do you think? A little—a little white wicket-gate at the top of the stairs! That’s the crowning touch, eh?”
Yes. It was.
“That was what took my fancy, you know! I immediately said to myself——”
At all costs, I felt, must Uncle Albert be kept from repeating what he had said to himself.