In For It!
"I shall keep out of his way for a day or two—put up at the Royal instead of going home," Reggie had explained to Bessie in the quarter of an hour he was tête-à-tête with her before Deleah came in. "By the time he sees me again he'll have forgotten all about finding me here."
"I suppose you don't see that all this fuss about being 'found' in our house is not very complimentary to us?" Bessie said.
"Oh hang!" said Reggie. "How can I help it if he objects? You all know very well you're good enough for me."
He was not a clever nor a tactful young man, although quite good-natured. He did not intend to offend, and never understood why he sometimes did so. Bessie was "touchy," as he often declared, but she bore no malice. So long as she had the young man dangling around, so long as she could dress for him, put on her long mauve ribbons for him, do up her hair for him in a chignon whose dimensions should surpass those of any other chignon in Brockenham, so long as Emily continued to make him the subject for her winks and nods and innuendoes, she lived in her Paradise and was fairly content.
But by putting up at the Royal Reggie did not long evade the discussion he foresaw might be unpleasant; for on the very next morning, before he had arisen from his bed he received a message from his brother asking for his presence at a certain hour at the Brewery.
"I'm in for it now," he said to himself when he got the message; but he did not dream of disregarding it.
He presented himself, therefore, punctually enough, in the pleasant private room which looked out upon the river flowing black and oily so far beneath; where the portrait of the father of the two men hung above Sir Francis's head as he stood upon the hearthrug.
"Oh, there you are, Reggie! Good-morning."
"Here I am. Sharp as a new pin, and bright as a button."