“Oh mother, mother! She made me come, she pushed me off.” And almost as if not to say more she went quickly below.
I paid Mrs. Nettlepoint a morning visit after luncheon and another in the evening, before she “turned in.” That same day, in the evening, she said to me suddenly: “Do you know what I’ve done? I’ve asked Jasper.”
“Asked him what?”
“Why, if she asked him, you understand.”
I wondered. “Do I understand?”
“If you don’t it’s because you ‘regular’ won’t, as she says. If that girl really asked him—on the balcony—to sail with us.”
“My dear lady, do you suppose that if she did he’d tell you?”
She had to recognise my acuteness. “That’s just what he says. But he says she didn’t.”
“And do you consider the statement valuable?” I asked, laughing out. “You had better ask your young friend herself.”
Mrs. Nettlepoint stared. “I couldn’t do that.”