"You don't seem over-pleased," he said.
"Pleased! Have a fiver each way on 'pleased'! No, I'm not exactly leaping with joy."
"Then, what the devil is it all about? What do you mean? What's the idea? If you don't want to marry Miss McEachern, why did you propose to her?"
Lord Dreever closed his eyes.
"Dear old boy, don't! It's my uncle."
"Your uncle?"
"Didn't I explain it all to you—about him wanting me to marry? You know! I told you the whole thing."
Jimmy stared in silence.
"Do you mean to say—?" he said, slowly.
He stopped. It was a profanation to put the thing into words.