"Well, there's been the usual doin's the last week or two. I've been dancin' every night till I'm tired. 'Bout time for the country agen——"
"Have you been down to Seddon at all?"
"Yes. Two nights last week—all dried up—Place wants me a bit oftener down there——"
"What's this I hear about young Olive Ormond marrying Besset Crewe's daughter?"
"So they say—can't imagine it myself. The girl's about eighty-four and a half and he's the most awful kid. Saw them at the opera the other night——"
"What about Scotland this summer, Roddy? Are you going?"
"Don't think so. Depends——"
Then there was silence. The little conversation had been as stiff as it was possible a conversation could be. The China dragons must have wondered—never before so constrained a dialogue between these two!
Now another pause, then suddenly Roddy, his hands clutching one another, his face redder than ever—
"I want—I wonder—dash it—have I your leave to ask your granddaughter to marry me?"