The Honourable Herbert's face was expressionless, as he bent over and kissed her.
"Quite so, darling," he murmured. "Quite so. Don't worry about it any more...."
And it was not until he was at the wheel of his car driving back to his office that he gave vent to his real feelings. "Ask the men?" He saw himself doing it. The cursed luck of the thing. But for that one episode yesterday, he could have bluffed it through, until they were married at any rate. After that he had never had an intention of carrying on a deception which bored him to extinction: there would be no need to.... But now.... The marvel to him was that they hadn't struck already. And once they did, and John Frenton came down to the works and the cause became known—good-bye to his hopes of the future. Marjorie would never forgive him. And as the realization of what that would entail struck him seriously for the first time, he swore savagely. He had been banking on the Frenton millions not only morally but actually. And if they failed to materialize.... Once again he cursed under his breath....
It was after dinner that night that Marjorie made up her mind. She had twice rung up her fiancé with no result. The first time he had not come in: the second he had just gone out—to the local theatre, the servant believed. With a frown she hung up the receiver, and turning away walked slowly to her father's study.
"I want to see the book of addresses, daddy," she said, quietly.
It was one of old Frenton's hobbies to have the address of every one of his men entered in a large book, which enabled periodical gifts to arrive if there was any illness in the family.
"It's over there, girlie," he said, with a sleepy smile. "What do you want it for?"
"Mrs. Tracy has just had a baby," she announced, turning over the leaves.
But it was not under the T's that she looked. Mendle, Morgan, Morrison ... Morrison, John, 9, Castle Road.... Thoughtfully she closed the book, and put it back in its proper place. Then she crossed the room, and kissed her father lovingly on his bald head.
"You're a dear old thing," she whispered. "Go and play billiards with the general...."