“Don’t talk about it, please,” said Gertrude imploringly.
“Not I, you happy pair,” said Saul, rising, and again laughing unpleasantly as he took up his glass.
“Here’s a speedy and a happy union to you both.”
He drained his glass, and set it down in silence, as Gertrude’s face crimsoned, and then grew pale, while the master of The Mynns frowned.
“Isn’t that what you English people call bad taste?” he said sourly.
“Surely not, my dear boy. I am only Cousin Saul, and have a right to banter a little. There, I’m off back to town.”
“I thought you were going to stay and have a hand at cards, and I want to have a game at billiards on the new table.”
“Cards, billiards? For shame, man, when the lovely Thais sits beside you. Why don’t you take the good the gods provide you?”
“Eh? What do you mean. Hang it all, don’t begin quoting poetry to a fellow. What does he mean, Gertie? Oh, I see. Very good. But that’s all right. She and I understand one another, and we shall have plenty of time to court after we’re married. Eh, Gertie?”
“I must go back to Mrs Hampton now,” said Gertrude gravely.