“We might drop Belinda,” he suggested turning to his friend and speaking in low, confidential tones. “She is quite a manageable person. Quite. She could—for example—be left behind with the luggage and sent on by train. I do not know if you realize how the land lies in that quarter. It needs only a word to Miss Grammont.”
There was no immediate reply. For a moment he had a wild hope that his companion would agree, and then he perceived that the doctor’s silence meant only the preparation of an ultimatum.
“I object to Miss Grammont and that side of the thing, more than I do to Miss Seyffert.”
Sir Richmond said nothing.
“It may help you to see this affair from a slightly different angle if I tell you that twice today Miss Seyffert has asked me if you were a married man.”
“And of course you told her I was.”
“On the second occasion.”
Sir Richmond smiled again.
“Frankly,” said the doctor, “this adventure is altogether uncongenial to me. It is the sort of thing that has never happened in my life. This highway coupling—”
“Don’t you think,” said Sir Richmond, “that you are attaching rather too much—what shall I say—romantic?—flirtatious?—meaning to this affair? I don’t mind that after my rather lavish confessions you should consider me a rather oversexed person, but isn’t your attitude rather unfair,—unjust, indeed, and almost insulting, to this Miss Grammont? After all, she’s a young lady of very good social position indeed. She doesn’t strike you—does she?—as an undignified or helpless human being. Her manners suggest a person of considerable self-control. And knowing less of me than you do, she probably regards me as almost as safe as—a maiden aunt say. I’m twice her age. We are a party of four. There are conventions, there are considerations.... Aren’t you really, my dear Martineau, overdoing all this side of this very pleasant little enlargement of our interests.”