“But isn’t she past it?”
“You’d think so, but it would be just like the Gabriels. I wish I could work that Chinese Mandarin trick and say in my head, ‘Uncle G. has left us!’ and be sure that he would instantly fall down dead.”
“Henry!”
“Well, my dear, if you knew him. He’s the most revolting old gentleman. How Daddy ever came to have such a brother! He’s mean and hideous and spiteful and ought to have been dead ages ago. There were two uncles between him and Daddy but they were both killed in the Great War. I understand that they were rather nice, and at any rate they had no sons, which is the great thing in their favour.”
“Henry, I get so muddled. What is your Uncle Gabriel’s name?”
“Gabriel.”
“No, I mean his title and everything.”
“Oh. Well, he’s the Marquis of Wutherwood and Rune. While my grandfather was alive Uncle G. was Lord Rune, the Earl of Rune. That’s the eldest son’s title you see. Daddy is just a younger son.”
“And when your Uncle G. dies your father will be Lord Wutherwood and you’ll be Lord Rune?”
“Yes, I shall, if the old pig ever does die.”