"Better late than never."
"Besides—I don't know them—and I have my old mack on."
I knew who lived there well enough.
Mother had called.
"It is an honour to know the Gilpins," he assured me.
I knew that. I knew they were frightfully rich and aristocratic, and that half the officers were crazy about Grace Gilpin. All the most attractive ones used to live up at Brennon House playing tennis and boating on the artificial lake in the grounds; and they used to give weekly dances and have a coon orchestra from London, and they had amateur theatricals and no end of fun.
Grace Gilpin had always seemed sort of unreal to me, like the princess in a fairy story. I had never seen her.
"Please! Please!" I protested. "This is madness!"
"It is delicious madness," he said softly.
In the moonlight I could see the heavy, colourless heads of flowers; the scent of them, sweet and strange and all different, seemed to wave over us for a minute as we passed.