Which was good hearing for Chalfont. He hadn’t met many women who understood that golden rule. He could see even then that the little de Brézé was going to play ducks and drakes with his future plans, put him to a considerable amount of inconvenience and probably keep him hanging about town,—for which he had very little use now that the sun was shining. Already Lola’s attraction had begun its disturbing effect. He was on the verge of becoming brother of a valet, a butler, two footmen and the Lord knew how many of the hobble-de-hoys of Queen’s Road, Bayswater.
The fish came and they both fell to,—Lola watching Fallaray’s table keenly. “I saw a rather decent photograph of you in the Tatler to-day,” she said. It might have been Feo who spoke. “You won the point to point, didn’t you?”
“I did,” said Chalfont. “But I should have been beaten by the Boy if I hadn’t had a better horse. He rode like the devil.”
“You don’t think that point to points are rather playing the fool just now, then?” The question came quietly but had the effect of making Chalfont suspend his fork in mid-air.
“Yes. I do. But under the present system what is the ordinary plain man to do but stand aside and watch our political muddlers mess everything up? I was asked to rejoin and take over a district in Ireland. Not me. I could see myself raising Cain in about ten minutes and washed out at the end of a week. Soldiers aren’t required in Ireland.”
“No?”
“No. Nor policemen, nor machine guns. Ireland stands in need of a little man with an Irish accent and the soul of Christ.”
Lola rose to her feet. Fallaray had done the same thing and was bending over his mother.
And so Chalfont with, it must be confessed, a slightly rueful glance at his plate, told the waiter to give his bill to his chief, and followed Madame de Brézé along the lane between the tables and up the long path of the “monkey house.” And presently, when Fallaray gave his number to the flunkey and waited for his coat and hat, Chalfont carried out his orders. He went forward. “How do you do?” he said. “Wonderful weather.” It was a little lame.
Fallaray did not recognize the speaker except as a man who obviously had been a soldier. A left hand had been presented. The other was eloquent enough. “How are you?” he replied. “Yes, it is wonderful weather.”