“Be a pal to me, Polly, and I’ll be a pal to you, old girl, and we’ll be as happy as the birds in the springtime; and you’ll see that my people will come round all right, and you’ll see that Granny will forgive you!”
And here they were at the office of Messrs. Thompson and Allardyce in Wilton Place—not so far from the Church. And Phil-ipp informed a polite young man, with quite the Oxford manner, that they’d take that flat on a three years’ lease from Lady Day—and that, my lords and gentlemen, was how the trick was done. For by the time they had bade adieu to the polite young man with the Oxford manner they were as good as married.
At least, Phil-ipp seemed to think they were. A little previous, perhaps, young fellow; but when you are proceeding full steam ahead at rather more than nine knots an hour, you are rather apt to get a little in front of the time-table, are you not?
“That’s the very old thing for us,” said Phil-ipp, waving his hand across at the Church. “And I say, old girl, let us see if we can’t persuade Granny to give a reception at the Hyde Park Hotel; and I’ll persuade old Min Wingrove to bring all the brightest people in London, and we shall rather wipe the eye of No. 88, the corner house, old girl, shan’t we, when they see the pictures in the papers?”
“I shall rather like to see you persuading Granny, though, Phil-ipp, particularly after what has occurred.”
But Phil-ipp affirmed his manly determination to take the risk, especially as Polly desired to bet a shilling that he daren’t.
“Done with you. And I’m hanged if we won’t go right away and tackle her.”
Whereupon the imperious young man, who was revealing a whole gamut of unexpected qualities, bundled Polly straight into a taxi, demanded to be driven to 10 Bedford Gardens—that magic address—and got in himself.
“I say, old girl,” said he, as they sped past the windows of the Button Club, “little Marge can be one of your bridesmaids, can’t she?”
“Goose,” said Mary.