“But come, I must be dressing. Dear me, it is very late. We shall have to hurry. By the way, my boy, I shall take the opportunity of making a public announcement of the engagement to-night. It will be a capital occasion for it, I think, perhaps, at the conclusion of the theatricals, a little speech—something quite impromptu and informal, just asking them to wish you happiness, and so on. I like the idea. There is an old-world air about it that appeals to me. Yes.”
He turned to the dressing-table and removed his collar.
“Well, run along, my boy,” he said. “You must not be late.”
His lordship tottered from the room. He did quite an unprecedented amount of thinking as he hurried into his evening clothes; but the thought which occurred most frequently was that, whatever happened, all was well in one way, at any rate. He had the twenty pounds. There would be something colossal in the shape of disturbances when his uncle learned the truth. It would be the biggest thing since the San Francisco earthquake. But what of it? He had the money.
He slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. He would take it down with him, and pay Hargate directly after dinner.
He left the room. The flutter of a skirt caught his eye as he reached the landing. A girl was coming down the corridor on the other side. He waited at the head of the stairs to let her go down before him. As she came on to the landing he saw that it was Molly.
For a moment there was an awkward pause.
“Er—I got your note,” said his lordship.
She looked at him, and then burst out laughing.
“You know you don’t mind the least little bit,” she said—“not a scrap. Now, do you?”