“It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
Lady Mablethorpe showed slight signs of agitation. “You are the most provoking creature! How can you talk in that cool way about such a disastrous possibility?”
“Well, at least I should be rid of her,” said Mr Ravenscar callously. “If you’re thinking of marrying her to Adrian, I can tell you now that—”
“Oh, Max, that is what I wanted to see you about!” interrupted his aunt, recalled by the mention of her son’s name to the more pressing problem of the moment. “I am quite distracted with worry!”
“Oh?” said Ravenscar, with casual interest. “What’s the young fool been doing?”
Lady Mablethorpe bristled instinctively at this uncomplimentary description of her only child, but a moment’s reflection brought the unwelcome conviction that the slighting term had been earned. “He thinks he is in love,” she said tragically.
Mr Ravenscar was unmoved. “He’ll think it a good many times for the next five or six years. How old is the cub?”
“Considering you are one of his trustees, you surely know that he is not yet twenty-one!”
“Forbid the banns, then,” recommended Mr Ravenscar flippantly.
“I wish you will be serious! This is no laughing matter! He will be of age in a couple of months now! And before we know where we are we shall have him married to some scheming hussy.”