“Tell me what's wrong and I may be able to help you.”
Morland looked at him for a moment in gloomy doubt. Then he shook his head.
“You can't help me. I thought you could, but you can't. It's a matter for a lawyer. I must run up to town.”
“And cut the garden-party?”
“That's where I'm tied,” exclaimed Morland, impatiently. “I ought to start now, but if I cut the garden-party the duchess would never forgive me—and by Jove, I may need the duchess more than ever—and I've got a meeting to attend in Cosford this morning to which a lot of people are coming from a distance.”
“Can't I interview the lawyer for you?”
“No. I must do it myself.”
The butler entered and looked with grave displeasure at the wreckage on the tea-tray. While he was repairing the disaster, Morland went back to the window and Jimmie stood by his side.
“If you fight it through squarely, it will all come right in the end.”
“You don't mind my not telling you about it?” said Morland, in a low voice.