"So she is—I am interviewing quite a new type—she has been a moneylender's shorthand typist."
Mr. Strobridge raised his eyebrows—and smiled his whimsical smile. His Aunt Sarah always was original.
"Then I'll leave you—Beatrice has at last made up her mind not to chuck the Arberrys, so we motor down at three o'clock."
"Has Beatrice been unusually tiresome?"
"N-no—she has been writing odes all the morning."
"You ought never to have married, G.—You would not have if Alice Southerwood had not become a widow—a man can't always face his obvious obligations."
Gerard Strobridge laughed.
"Then I shall kiss your hand and say farewell until next week—wisest of aunts!"
He suited the action to the word, and left the room just as the butler was about to open the door and announce:
"Miss Bush, Your Ladyship."