Estelle did not say that crews of bachelors are seldom out of place in the drawing-room of a young and pretty woman. She looked past her husband to where in fancy she beheld the aisle of a church and the young Adonis, who had been his best man, with eyes full of reverence and awe gazing at her approaching figure.
“I thought,” she said indifferently, “you liked that man you insisted on having instead of Lord Arlington at the wedding?”
“I do,” said Winn. “He’s my best friend. I meet him sometimes in town, you know.”
“He must think it awfully funny,” said Estelle, sadly, “our never having him down here.”
“He’s not that sort,” said Winn. “He was my sub, you know. He wouldn’t think anything funny unless I told him to. We know each other rather well.”
“That makes it funnier still,” said Estelle, relentlessly.
“Oh, all right,” said Winn, after a moment’s pause. “Have him down here if you like. Shall I write to him or will you?”
“He’s your friend,” said Estelle, politely.
“Yes,” said Winn, “but it’s your idea.” There was a peculiar look in his eyes, as if he wanted to warn her about something. He went to the door and then glanced back at her, apparently hoping that she had changed her mind.
Estelle hadn’t the faintest intention of changing her mind. She had already decided to put sweet peas in Lionel’s room and a marked copy of “The Road Mender.”