Sam smiled, relieved to know that he was not too late. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Madge is pleased.”
“What!” said George. “Say that again.”
“Madge is pleased,” repeated Sam brazenly. He was sure she was. He trusted Sarah Pullen now.
“Did she tell you so?” asked George.
“Do you imagine I’d be giving you a message like this if she hadn’t sent it?”
George took his cap off. “If that’s so——” he said.
“It’s so,” said Sam, not defining what was so.
The banns went up, and Sam was able to devote his undivided attention to Club affairs, as to which he had an idea arising out of the boredom he suffered while reading “The Clandestine Marriage.” That tuppence was a fruitful investment.
A wet day came and with it, what was now rare, a full attendance at the Club. But, since their repairs and decorations were complete, there was nothing to do except to sit on their reliable chairs and admire their reliability.
“For a Hell-fire Club,” said Sandy, “we lack hellishness.”