He stooped to kiss her. "Well, what does the bounder want?"
"Oh, nothing much," she said. "Simply, he finds himself in this direction after big game, and, having heard of our being here, he wants to know if we will put him up for a night or two—for the sake of old times, he has the effrontery to add."
"Do you want him?" asked Will, the echo of a fighting note in his voice.
She smiled again as she heard it. "No, not particularly. I am really indifferent. But I think it would look rather silly to refuse, don't you? Besides, it would be good for him to see how old and staid I have become."
Will looked slightly grim. Nevertheless, he did not argue the point.
"All right, Daisy. Do as you think best!" he said.
She returned to her letter, still holding his arm. "That's very wise of you, Will," she said softly. "Then I suppose I shall write and tell him to come."
"What's the fellow's name?" asked Will.
Daisy turned again to the signature. "Merton Hunt-Goring. He was a major in the Sappers, but he has retired now, he says. He can't be very young. He was no chicken in those days. I didn't really like him, you know; but he amused me."
Will smiled. "Poor darling! Your bore of a husband never did that."
She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "Dear old duffer! When are we going for that honeymoon of ours? And what shall we do with Peggy? Don't say we've got to wait till she is safely married to Noel!"