They had been talking gaily enough about the betrothal when Ansell suddenly interrupted with, “When is the marriage?”
“Mr. Ansell,” said Agnes, blushing, “I wish you hadn’t asked that. That part’s dreadful. Not for years, as far as we can see.”
But Rickie had not seen as far. He had not talked to her of this at all. Last night they had spoken only of love. He exclaimed, “Oh, Agnes-don’t!” Mrs. Lewin laughed roguishly.
“Why this delay?” asked Ansell.
Agnes looked at Rickie, who replied, “I must get money, worse luck.”
“I thought you’d got money.”
He hesitated, and then said, “I must get my foot on the ladder, then.”
Ansell began with, “On which ladder?” but Mrs. Lewin, using the privilege of her sex, exclaimed, “Not another word. If there’s a thing I abominate, it is plans. My head goes whirling at once.” What she really abominated was questions, and she saw that Ansell was turning serious. To appease him, she put on her clever manner and asked him about Germany. How had it impressed him? Were we so totally unfitted to repel invasion? Was not German scholarship overestimated? He replied discourteously, but he did reply; and if she could have stopped him thinking, her triumph would have been complete.
When they rose to go, Agnes held Ansell’s hand for a moment in her own.
“Good-bye,” she said. “It was very unconventional of us to come as we did, but I don’t think any of us are conventional people.”