“It’s you that’s hard, Lup—ay, and unjust, too! You haven’t earned the right to spoil your father’s last days.”
“He’s had his life, sir. This is mine.”
“And much good may it do you! You’re a fool!” Lanty swung on his heel to find the Watters chauffeur at his elbow, wearing such a shocked expression that both the other men smiled. Lup said, “Like enough! Good-night to you, sir!” and rattled off, and Lancaster drifted to the car. Dandy put out a hand to him through the window.
“Whom were you slanging on the pavement? And do you know what has happened to Wiggie? They have it inside that he’s gone home already.”
It was explained that he had driven off with Mr. and Miss Knewstubb, and she lifted her eyebrows a little. She was so used to Wiggie’s devotion that the wind blew cold at the slightest sign of defection.
“It’s quite all right, of course, but we’d promised to send over. I had nothing particular to do, so I just came for the run. I hope he won’t get cold after the hot room—I brought the closed car on purpose—especially as he came to please me.”
“He pleased a good many other people, too,” Lanty said warmly. “He was immense! I can’t think why he isn’t in the front rank of English singers. Surely somebody ought to have found him out!”
“Oh, he’s getting on all right,” she answered, rather hurriedly. “I’m sure he enjoyed singing for you.”
“Well, yes, I think he did. He was great, anyhow! I’m glad you thought of sending him as your representative.”
“I was interested.” She looked down, so that her head with its halo of yellow light was thrown into relief by the night and her dark furs. There were yellow chrysanthemums opposite.