"Then I'll tell him to spread it on a bit," said Jappy obligingly. "Great horseman, he is. Got some ripping nags in the New York show next week, and he rides like a dream. Watch him pull down a few ribbons and rosettes. Sure thing."
"Your father told me that the Countess was off riding with him and another chap,—off to Fassifern, I believe."
"For luncheon. They do it three or four times a week. Not for me. I like waiters with shirt fronts and nickle tags."
Alone with me in the casino half an hour later, he announced that it really looked serious, this affair between Aline and his lordship.
I tried to appear indifferent,—a rather pale effort, I fear.
"I think I am in on the secret, Jappy," said I soberly.
He stared. "Has she ever said anything to you, old chap, that would lead you to believe she's keen about him?"
I temporised. "She's keen about somebody, my son; that's as far as I will go."
"Then it must be Amberdale. I'm on to her all right, all right. I know women. She's in love, hang it all. If you know a thing about 'em, you can spot the symptoms without the x-rays. I've been hoping against hope, old man. I don't want her to marry again. She's had all the hell she's entitled to. What's the matter with women, anyhow? They no sooner get out of one muddle than they begin looking around for another. Can't be satisfied with good luck."
"But every one speaks very highly of Lord Amberdale. I'm sure she can't be making a mistake in marrying him."