“Well, I did, didn’t I, Tony? Speak up for me, there’s a brick!”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Tony. “They were jolly short, and there didn’t seem to be much moping about it.”
“That was to cheer you up. You didn’t want me to make you think that I was depressed, did you?”
Sir Richard had finished his grouse and could turn his attention to other things. He complained of the brilliancy of the lights, and some of them were turned out.
“Where’s your man, Tony?” said Rupert. “Let’s see him.”
“Over there by the window—a man and a woman at a table by themselves—a big man, clean shaven. There, you can see him now, behind that long waiter—a pretty woman in white, laughing.”
“Oh, well! He’s better than some,” Rupert grudgingly admitted. “Not so bad—strong, muscular, silent hero type—it’s a pretty woman.” He fastened his eye-glass, an attention that he always paid to anyone who really deserved it.
“Yes, I like him,” said Lady Gale; “what did you say his name was?”
“I didn’t quite catch it; Marabin, or Mara—no, I don’t know—Mara—something. But I say, what are we going to do to-night? We must do something. I was never so excited in my life, and I don’t a bit know why.”
“Oh, that will pass,” said Rupert; “we know your moods, Tony. You must take him out into the garden, Alice, and quiet him down. Oh! look, they’re going, those Marabins or whatever their names are. She carries herself well, that woman.”