Wrayford hesitated. “All right, I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks a lot, my dear fellow. And you’ll make her see it wasn’t my fault, eh? Women are awfully vague about money, and she’ll think it’s all right if you back me up.”
Wrayford nodded. “As you please.”
“And, Austin—there’s just one more thing. You needn’t say anything to Isabel about the other business—I mean about my mother’s securities.”
“Ah?” said Wrayford, pausing.
Stilling shifted from one foot to the other. “I’d rather put that to the old lady myself. I can make it clear to her. She idolizes me, you know—and, hang it! I’ve got a good record. Up to now, I mean. My mother’s been in clover since I married; I may say she’s been my first thought. And I don’t want her to hear of this beastly business from Isabel. Isabel’s a little harsh at times—and of course this isn’t going to make her any easier to live with.”
“Very well,” said Wrayford.
Stilling, with a look of relief, walked toward the window which opened on the terrace. “Gad! what a queer night! Hot as the kitchen-range. Shouldn’t wonder if we had a squall before morning. I wonder if that infernal skipper took in the launch’s awnings before he went home.”
Wrayford stopped with his hand on the door. “Yes, I saw him do it. She’s shipshape for the night.”
“Good! That saves me a run down to the shore.”