I had to break it to him.
“Well, not absolutely this same waitress. In fact, quite a different waitress. Still, a waitress, you know.”
The light of avuncular affection died out of the old boy’s eyes.
“H’m!” he said a bit dubiously. “I had supposed that Richard was displaying the quality of constancy which is so rare in the modern young man. I—I must think it over.”
So we left it at that, and I came away and told Bingo the position of affairs.
“Allowance O.K.,” I said. “Uncle blessing a trifle wobbly.”
“Doesn’t he seem to want the wedding bells to ring out?”
“I left him thinking it over. If I were a bookie, I should feel justified in offering a hundred to eight against.”
“You can’t have approached him properly. I might have known you would muck it up,” said young Bingo. Which, considering what I had been through for his sake, struck me as a good bit sharper than a serpent’s tooth.
“It’s awkward,” said young Bingo. “It’s infernally awkward. I can’t tell you all the details at the moment, but ... yes, it’s awkward.”