“You’re an extraordinary girl, Jill! One never knows when you’re going to get the wind up.” 

 “Isn’t it enough to make me get the wind up, as you call it, when you say absurd things like that?” 

 “I meant well, old girl!” 

 “That’s the trouble with you. You always do mean well. You go about the world meaning well till people fly to put themselves under police protection. Besides, what on earth could Lady Underhill find to object to in me? I’ve plenty of money, and I’m one of the most charming and attractive of Society belles. You needn’t take my word for that, and I don’t suppose you’ve noticed it, but that’s what Mr Gossip in the Morning Mirror called me when he was writing about my getting engaged to Derek. My maid showed me the clipping. There was quite a long paragraph, with a picture of me that looked like a Zulu chieftainess taken in a coal-cellar during a bad fog. Well, after that, what could anyone say against me? I’m a perfect prize! I expect Lady Underhill screamed with joy when she heard the news and went singing all over her Riviera villa.” 

 “Yes,” said Freddie dubiously. “Yes, yes, oh, quite so, rather!” 

 Jill looked at him sternly. 

 “Freddie, you’re concealing something from me! You don’t think I’m a charming and attractive Society belle! Tell me why not and I’ll show you where you are wrong. Is it my face you object to, or my manners, or my figure? There was a young bride of Antigua, who said to her mate, ‘What a pig you are!’ Said he, ‘Oh, my queen, is it manners you mean, or do you allude to my fig-u-ar?’ Isn’t my figuar all right, Freddie?” 

 “Oh, I think you’re topping.” 

 “But for some reason you’re afraid that Derek’s mother won’t think so. Why won’t Lady Underhill agree with Mr Gossip?” 

 Freddie hesitated. 

 “Speak up!” 

 “Well, it’s like this. Remember I’ve known the old devil …” 

 “Freddie Rooke! Where do you pick up such expressions? Not from me!” 

 Prev. P 24/312 next