“I’ve only one afternoon free this month, and that’s to-morrah,” said Arminius.
Most unfortunate, but it happened that on the morrow the vain young fellow was booked to take Adela and her Cousin Jane from Cumberland, to drink tea at Claridges’.
“Just as you like,” said Arminius Wingrove. “My only afternoon.”
The young man knitted his brow in grave perplexity.
“I wonder if I could persuade Adela to turn up the other shop and come to the Carlton. It isn’t quite playing the game though, is it?—and she mustn’t know what for, because if she does I’m bound to get it.”
So supremely bored looked Arminius in the stress of these parochial affairs, that like a wise young fellow the heir to the barony decided to curtail them somewhat.
“Yes, I’ll be there at five to-morrow, Fat—I should say Minnie. Carlton is quite as expensive as the other box, although the crush is greater. You know Adela Rocklaw, don’t you?”
“Met her at High Cliff,” said Arminius casual-like. “Old Warlock’s daughter. Girl you are engaged to.”
“Not engaged exactly.”
“Thought you were.”