"And I refuse point-blank," he answered.
"You will be sorry for it later," I warned him, "when the opportunity has slipped beyond recall."
"Something will turn up," he predicted. Then, perhaps, he saw how his refusal was paining me, for he added: "I've fixed up with some fellows weeks ago that we'd all meet and see life." ...
I had already begun a letter to Lady Erskine, asking if we might postpone our visit for a day or two, when Will came in—very much upset—to say that his friends had broken faith with him; one had already gone to the country, the other two were busy presenting letters of introduction and arranging interviews... As if I had not known all along that, the moment war was over, the whole world would begin looking for jobs...
"Now," I said, "you can have no objection to accepting the Erskines' invitation."
"Barring that I don't want to go," Will rejoined. "I draw the line at Jews at all times and I don't in the least want to start work till I've had a holiday."
"But others are already in the field," I urged. Lady Maitland shewed the sublime assurance to reestablish communications and to ask Sir Adolphus, in the name of their old friendship, to find an opening for her second boy! "You can have all the holidays you want later."
To my delight I saw Will weakening.
"What's the management like?," he asked.
"Oh, my dear, everything is incredibly perfect. The house, the food, the music—"