“Watts, I give my word she shall never know the truth from me.”
“God bless you, Peter. True as ever. Then that is settled. You shall have a clear field and every chance.”
“I fear not. There’s something more. Mrs. D’Alloi won’t pardon that incident—nor do I blame her. I can’t force my presence here if she does not give her consent. It would be too cruel, even if I could hope to succeed in spite of her. I want to see her this morning. You can tell better than I whether you had best speak to her first, or whether I shall tell her.”
“H’m. That is a corker, isn’t it? Don’t you think you had better let things drift?”
“No. I’m not going to try and win a girl’s love behind the mother’s back. Remember, Watts, the mother is the only one to whom a girl can go at such a time. We mustn’t try to take advantage of either.”
“Well, I’ll speak to her, and do my best. Then I’ll send her to you. Help yourself to the tobacco if you get tired of waiting tout seul.”
Watts went upstairs and knocked at a door. “Yes,” said a voice. Watts put his head in. “Is my Rosebud so busy that she can’t spare her lover a few moments?”
“Watts, you know I live for you.”
Watts dropped down on the lounge. “Come here, then, like a loving little wife, and let me say my little say.”
No woman nearing forty can resist a little tenderness in her husband, and Mrs. D’Alloi snuggled up to Watts in the pleasantest frame of mind. Watts leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then Mrs. D’Alloi snuggled some more.