“I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Blatherwick,” she said; “I warn you that I was prepared to be very jealous. You used to tell me, you know, that I was the only girl with whom you cared to talk.”
“It is—quite true, quite true, Miss Merton,” he answered eagerly, dropping his voice a little and glancing uneasily over his shoulder. “I—I have missed you very much indeed; it has been very dull.”
Mr. Blatherwick sighed; he was rewarded by a very kind glance from a pair of very blue eyes. He fingered the wine list, and began to wonder whether she would care for champagne.
“Now tell me,” she said, “all the news. How are they all at Deringham Hall—the dear old Admiral and the Countess, and that remarkably silly young man, Lord Wolfenden?”
Wolfenden received a kick under the table, and Harcutt’s face positively beamed with delight. Mr. Blatherwick, however, had almost forgotten their proximity. He had made up his mind to order champagne.
“The Ad—Ad—Admiral is well in health, but worse mentally,” he answered. “I am leaving for that very reason. I do not conceive that in fairness to myself I should continue to waste my time in work which can bring forth no fruit. I trust, Miss Merton, that you agree with me.”
“Perfectly,” she answered gravely.
“The Countess,” he continued, “is well, but much worried. There have been strange hap—hap—happenings at the Hall since you left. Lord Wolfenden is there. By the bye, Miss Merton,” he added, dropping his voice, “I do not—not—think that you used to consider Lord Wolfenden so very silly when you were at Deringham.”
“It was very dull sometimes—when you were busy, Mr. Blatherwick,” she answered, beginning her lunch. “I will confess to you that I did try to amuse myself a little with Lord Wolfenden. But he was altogether too rustic—too stupid! I like a man with brains!”
Harcutt produced a handkerchief and stuffed it to his mouth; his face was slowly becoming purple with suppressed laughter. Mr. Blatherwick ordered the champagne.