“Rot the scandal,” said Derry. “Besides, I’m naturally virtuous, so if I’m to come off in public I must have a smell at the jumps. Quite apart from that, my darling, it’s making me well. I’ve always found you lovely, and a chance of telling you so is good for my heart. And it ought to be good for yours—unless you hate me.”
“You know I don’t hate you, Derry, but I’m rather bad at games.”
“What good d’you think I am? I’ve never kissed a woman but Jenny since I was wed. The mercy is that, now that we’ve got to play, we’ve drawn each other instead of a couple of souls. It’s not a game that I’d play with everyone.”
Rosemary threw up her head.
“I’m not going to keep Virginia’s saddle dry.”
“Or I Roger’s,” said Derry. “Don’t you believe it, my dear. If I didn’t think I could stand on my own flat feet, I’d get out of this chaise.”
“But it wouldn’t console me at all to throw my arms round your neck. I’m very fond of you, Derry, but Roger’s my man.”
“And Jenny’s my girl,” said Derry. “That’s why I want her back. And I think the way to get her is to show her that she hasn’t got me. Very well, then. I’ve got to find a playmate.”
“That shouldn’t take you long,” said Rosemary Chase. “I could mention——”
“I’ve a weakness,” said Derry Peruke, “for playing the game. I hate making love to a girl with my tongue in my cheek. Yet to explain the position would be to court trouble of the corrosive sort.”