“Laugh, you old devil, laugh!” Michael shouted. “Here we are. Did you ever see such a house? It hasn’t quite the austerity of Plashers Mead, has it?”
“It looks rather fun,” Guy commented.
“You know,” Michael said solemnly, pausing for a moment at the head of the steps going down to the front door. “You know, Guy, I believe that you’ll be able to persuade my mother to withdraw all her opposition to-night. I believe I’m going to marry Lily this week. And I shall be so glad—Guy, you don’t know how glad I shall be.”
He ran hurriedly down the steps and had pressed the bell of Number One before Guy had entered the main door.
“I say, you know, it will be really terrible if she’s out after all my boasting,” said Michael. “And Miss Harper, too—that’s the housekeeper—my housekeeper, you know. If they’re both out, we’ll have to go round and wait in the garden until they come in. Hark, there’s somebody coming.”
The door opened, and Michael hurried in.
“Hullo, good afternoon, Miss Harper. You didn’t expect to see me, eh? I’ve brought a friend. Is Miss Haden in the big room?”
“Miss Haden is out, Mr. Fane,” said the housekeeper.
“What’s the matter? You’re looking rather upset.”
“Am I, Mr. Fane?” she asked blankly. “Am I? Oh, no, I’m very well. Oh, yes, very well. It’s the funny light, I expect, Mr. Fane.”