"Only this, that I've loved her for a very long while and that if you don't think I'm too old, I should like your permission to ask her to marry me."
Tabs thought to himself with a glow of satisfaction, "At last I've done it. And done it in just the way and at just the time that I'd always planned."
He felt the pride of a man who had worked on schedule and been punctual to the second.
Sir Tobias turned. His face was composed. It was some seconds before he spoke. "Of course this is no surprise to me. You are old for her. You'll be fifty-five when she's scarcely forty." He paused and Tabs' heart sank. "You're older than her; but then you're wiser. She needs a husband who'll be wise." He sat leisurely as though he were resting from a long journey; then he stretched out his hand. Tabs went over and took it. "My dear fellow, there's only one thing I ask: make her always happy."
The clock in the hall struck midnight. He lifted himself to his feet. "I had no idea how the time had flown. By the way, that's the address—the Maisie woman's."
Tabs took it carelessly. It had become a thing of little consequence. He folded it away in his pocket. "And when shall I see Terry?" Of a sudden he felt that he must see her; see her and make sure of her without loss of time.
"To-morrow, I suppose. Say about eleven."
Tabs thought back. He had expected to receive a call from General Braithwaite about eleven, or at least to hear from him as soon as he had opened his morning's letters. Then he smiled to himself; when once he was engaged to Terry, what General Braithwaite did or did not do would be no longer of any importance.
"Yes, about eleven, if it'll be agreeable to Terry."