Featherstone looked surprised.
“I guess it’s a bit of a blow. But you needn’t fly off the handle. I love her all right, and I ain’t ’xactly penniless.”
Featherstone stroked his chin.
“There are certain conditions to my approval. You will realize that Angela occupies a prominent 84 position in the social world, and I should naturally like to be assured that you are in a position to provide for her in a way commensurate with her needs. There would be, of course, some marriage settlement. But I do not wish to deal with that side. My lawyer, Mr. Ayscough, is a very old family friend. He has Angela’s interest at heart no less than I. His assurance on the—er—financial side would be sufficient guarantee. In such circumstances I should see no reason to withhold my consent.”
“Thanks. Put it there!” said Jim. “Now, where does he hang out?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Where does he live?”
“Oh, Ayscough? Lincoln’s Inn Fields.”
“Good. I’m off. I’ll be along there first thing in the morning and get that settlement fixed up. I ain’t a man that wastes time.”
The meeting between Ayscough and Jim was very brief. Ayscough explained the position in choice language, and hit up for £50,000 marriage settlement. Jim, who didn’t quite see why he couldn’t be trusted to look after his own wife, 85 agreed without demur and went out like a whirlwind.