"And all those other things," pursued Miss Plummer indefatigably.

"You must have heard his music on the Victrola."

"Why, of course!"

It was not Lady Caroline who spoke, but a man further down the

table. He spoke with enthusiasm.

"Of course, by Jove!" he said. "The Schenectady Shimmy, by Jove,

and all that! Ripping!"

Everybody seemed pleased and interested. Everybody, that is to say,

except Lady Caroline and Lord Belpher. Percy was feeling that he

had been tricked. He cursed the imbecility of Keggs in suggesting

that this man should be invited to dinner. Everything had gone

wrong. George was an undoubted success. The majority of the

company were solid for him. As far as exposing his unworthiness in

the eyes of Maud was concerned, the dinner had been a ghastly

failure. Much better to have left him to lurk in his infernal

cottage. Lord Belpher drained his glass moodily. He was seriously

upset.

But his discomfort at that moment was as nothing to the agony which

rent his tortured soul a moment later. Lord Marshmoreton, who had

been listening with growing excitement to the chorus of approval,

rose from his seat. He cleared his throat. It was plain that Lord

Marshmoreton had something on his mind.

"Er. . . ." he said.

The clatter of conversation ceased once more--stunned, as it always

is at dinner parties when one of the gathering is seen to have

assumed an upright position. Lord Marshmoreton cleared his throat

again. His tanned face had taken on a deeper hue, and there was a

look in his eyes which seemed to suggest that he was defying

something or somebody. It was the look which Ajax had in his eyes

when he defied the lightning, the look which nervous husbands have

when they announce their intention of going round the corner to bowl

a few games with the boys. One could not say definitely that Lord

Marshmoreton looked pop-eyed. On the other hand, one could not

assert truthfully that he did not. At any rate, he was manifestly

embarrassed. He had made up his mind to a certain course of action

on the spur of the moment, taking advantage, as others have done,

of the trend of popular enthusiasm: and his state of mind was

nervous but resolute, like that of a soldier going over the top.

He cleared his throat for the third time, took one swift glance at

his sister Caroline, then gazed glassily into the emptiness above

her head.

"Take this opportunity," he said rapidly, clutching at the

table-cloth for support, "take this opportunity of announcing the

engagement of my daughter Maud to Mr. Bevan. And," he concluded

with a rush, pouring back into his chair, "I should like you all to

drink their health!"




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