By the time he had reached this point in his reflections the motor had stopped at one of the side doors of the castle.
"There is, of course, some perfectly proper explanation—" the Duke decided. It's a harmless flirtation, if any flirtation at all. Perhaps it's a beneficent bit of benevolence; at any rate it's Jimmy's own affair, and after all, he's going to buy the property—perhaps he's going to marry. Why not?
Ashamed to have placed his friend, if only momentarily, in an equivocal position, he turned about as they got out of the car and put an affectionate hand on the American's shoulder.
"Oh, I expect, old man, that you've got some wonderful scheme up your sleeve! You're going to be married and fetch your bride to The Dials."
Poor Bulstrode unfortunately echoed: "Married!" with a world of scorn in his tone. "My poor Westboro,' after what I've lately seen and heard here—forgive me if I say that for the time at least I'm not too sharply tempted."
"Since," he said as he greeted her, "you appear to be intending to live here forever, you'll welcome me when I come back from London. I'm coming back for Christmas, but if I don't run in before you'll understand, won't you, that it is because I simply haven't dared. Westboro' has already seen me cut across to this place."
The Duchess interrupted him. "Oh, in that case, I shall, of course, be obliged to move away." And to her great surprise Bulstrode quickly agreed with her.
"I should think it wise—not of course in the least knowing why you originally came."
She looked at him rather quizzically.
"You mean to say then that you don't really know?"