Freddie produced a snowy handkerchief, and polished his eye-glass. Solemnity descended on him like a cloud. He looked at Jill with an earnest, paternal gaze.
“That reminds me,” he said. “I wanted to have, a bit of a talk with you about that—being engaged and all that sort of thing. I’m glad I got you alone before the Curse arrived.”
“Curse? Do you mean Derek’s mother? That sounds cheerful and encouraging.”
“Well, she is, you know,” said Freddie earnestly. “She’s a bird! It would be idle to deny it. She always puts the fear of God into me. I never know what to say to her.”
“Why don’t you try asking her riddles?”
“It’s no joking matter,” persisted Freddie, his amiable face overcast. “Wait till you meet her! You should have seen her at the station this morning. You don’t know what you’re up against!”
“You make my flesh creep, Freddie. What am I up against?”
Freddie poked the fire scientifically, and assisted it with coal.
“It’s this way,” he said. “Of course, dear old Derek’s the finest chap in the world.”
“I know that,” said Jill softly. She patted Freddie’s hand with a little gesture of gratitude. Freddie’s devotion to Derek was a thing that always touched her. She looked thoughtfully into the fire, and her eyes seemed to glow in sympathy with the glowing coals. “There’s nobody like him!”