Mrs. Uniacke—and Stephen...
This was the end of the long "platonic" friendship between the curious pair, the "motherly interest" of the woman!—McTaggart sneered, his face hard.
"I don't know what to do with Roddy." Jill wrote from the depths of her heart. "I never saw him so cut up. Oh, Peter—isn't it dreadful? They've gone off on their honeymoon—for a fortnight, so Mother writes—and then Stephen's coming back—to live with us ... in Father's place!"
McTaggart could hardly restrain his wrath.
"What a fool the woman must be! A dirty trick too—this secrecy—with her own children. Oh—damn the man. He's feathered his nest—you bet he has! Well——" he read the letter through—"that settles it—my affair! Jill shan't live for a day with Stephen as a stepfather. I'll see to that!—Hurry up!" he called to the driver and went on, forming his plans. "I'll go down to Worthing to-night. Those poor children—all alone! ... I call it a most cruel trick—suddenly springing her marriage upon them."
Mario was already there when he reached his rooms, busy unpacking.
McTaggart checked him.
"Look here—leave all that and throw some things into a bag. Enough for the night—I'm off in another hour to Worthing."
"Sissignore." The man's quick eyes fell on the letter McTaggart still held and he smiled to himself. He knew the writing well by now and the eager look it brought to his young master's face.
Here was "l'amore..."—(postmark Worthing!) The sooner the marriage came off the better. This was the valet's private thought. He hated these dingy, narrow rooms and longed for a better establishment. But out aloud he merely asked if McTaggart would need his services.