“Why, indeed? But your mother—she takes the year for granted.”
“And I suppose your father would turn you out of his house if you were to marry me inside that time?”
“That would be almost certain. It is generally assumed that a year——”
And here there would be an interval—a breathless interlude in the academic consideration of that nice question in the etiquette of wedlock.
And then they got tired of discussing it, and it was relegated to the lovers’ limbo of the unnecessary.
But if there were grave reasons (in the eyes of such people as accepted the conventional as the inevitable) why they should not be married for a year, there did not seem to be any reason why the intentions of the pair should be concealed for the same period. Mr. Wingfield appeared several times in the High Street of Framsby with Miss Wadhurst beside him in his motor; and after the third time of observing so remarkable an incident, some of the onlookers made an honest attempt to account for it. The best set discussed it, and agreed that, being people of the world, they would not shake their heads in condemnation of the antics of a young reprobate. When a young reprobate has a rent roll of something approaching fifteen thousand a year his peccadilloes must be looked on with the eye of leniency.
The fiat having gone forth to this effect, the members of the best set looked indulgently into the shop windows when they noticed the approach of the motor with the silly young man and the foolish young woman side by side. This was very advanced, the best set thought—it put them on a level of tact with the best set in Trouville or Monte Carlo, where they understood such incidents were quite usual. But of course when the mothers came upon Mr. Wingfield when he was alone, they did not fail to recognize him or to do their best to induce him to accompany them home to tea. Equally as a matter of course when they met Priscilla they either looked across the street or at the telegraph wires between the roofs in front of them. The elderly ones sniffed, and the younger ones sneered.
But when one day Miss Wadhurst appeared by the side of Mrs. Wingfield in her victoria the impression produced in Framsby was indescribable. It was paralysing. A four-line whip was passed round the members of the best set calling them to their places in the front row of the pavilion seats at the Tennis and Croquet Club to discuss the situation.
“The poor old lady! She could have no idea of what has been going on!”
“It would be an act of duty—certainly of charity—to give her a hint.”