He rose from the table.
"I was so interested," grumbled Gaythorpe; and stood up to his lean height of six feet. He followed Edgar across the room, and there waited. His thin face was unreadable; but he was consumed with curiosity.
iii
When the two men were in the smoking room, and deep down in comfortable armchairs, with large and delicious cigars, they spoke no more of business or the world at large. Gaythorpe had been married for a quarter of a century, and he had three boys in whose progress he took deep interest. It was of the boys that he spoke—Cyril, who had left Oxford and was devoting himself to archæology; Roland, who was still at the University; and Alistair, who was at Marlborough. Of Mrs. Gaythorpe he for some time said nothing. But at last he mentioned her.
"D'you know we've been married twenty-five years?" he demanded. "I was thirty-five, and now I'm sixty. You're thirty-seven, and unmarried. You ought to marry soon—before you're forty, because otherwise you won't enjoy your children as I've done. It's a point to bear in mind."
Edgar slightly frowned.
"I shan't marry now," he said. Gaythorpe laughed, a sudden chuckling old man's full laugh.
"By Jove, that's a dangerous thing to say!" he protested. "It's the most dangerous and suspicious remark in the world. I don't think you'll escape marriage. Some young fly-away will make up her mind to settle down; and you'll be pleasantly surprised to find yourself happily married."
"A fly-away?" Edgar raised his brows. "That sounds alarming. I suppose on the principle of the reformed rake. However, I've got an open mind. I admit that I want children; but as far as I can see the people I know don't have them."