There is no need to gratify idle curiosity upon the subject.
The really important thing that did happen, before Cinderella slipped her latch-key in the door, was that Mr. Philip re-affirmed his manly determination not to take “No” for an answer. He vowed, moreover, that he would come and interview Grandmamma after she had had her siesta on the afternoon of the Sabbath Day.
CHAPTER XII
THE PROCONSULAR TOUCH
It had been a crowded and glorious week for the Green Chartreuse, but it was not until the Sabbath Day that it had really to embrace the crisis of its fate. Mary had not said “Yes,” and she had not said “No,” but she had seemed to imply that Grandmamma might prove obdurate. Then there was also that little obstacle in Grosvenor Square to negotiate. Yes, taking one fact with another, it was reasonably clear to the Twin Brethren that Sunday promised to be a rather important day in the calendar.
The heir to the barony did not go to church on the morning of the fateful day, although, perhaps, it would have been wise to have done so. He read The Referee instead, in order to collect a few ideas as to his general bearing in the convention after lunch in the library at No. 88.
The Governing Classes were decidedly FF. Not a day later than the third week in October, Warlock thought, otherwise it would play the dickens with his shooting.
“Egypt would be such a nice place in which to spend the honeymoon,” said Mother.
Little recked the Powers, however, of the Homeric struggle that was being waged within the precincts of the immaculate braided morning coat that sat so perfectly upon the manly form of Mr. Philip.
Do if you Dare, said the Twin Brethren.
Don’t be a Cur, said the Green Chartreuse.