here. Uncle Clarence likes you. Uncle Gally likes you. Everybody likes you - except Aunt Constance. And a fat lot we care what Aunt Constance thinks, what?'
'I keep worrying about your mother.'
'And I keep telling you...'
'I know. But I've got that funny feeling you get sometimes that things are going to happen. Trouble, trouble. A dark lady coming over the water.'
'Mother's fair.'
'It doesn't make it any better. I've got that presentiment.'
'Well, I don't see why you should. Everything's gone without a hitch so far.'
'That's just what I mean. I've been so frightfully happy, and I feel that all the beastly things that spoil happiness are just biding their time. Waiting. They can't do nothin' till Martin gets here!'
'Eh?'
'I was thinking of a thing one of the girls used to play on her gramophone in the dressing-room, the last show I was in. It was about a Negro who goes to a haunted house, and demon cats keep coming in, each bigger and more horrible than the last, and as each one comes in it says to the others, "Shall we start in on him now ?" and they shake their heads and say, "Not yet. We can't do nothin' till Martin gets here." Well, I can't help feeling that Martin soon will be here.'
Ronnie had found the word for which he had been searching. 'Morbid. I knew it began with an m. Don't be so dashed morbid!'
Sue gave herself a little shake, like a dog coming out of a pond. She put her arm in Ronnie's and gave it a squeeze. 'I suppose it is morbid.' 'Of course it is.' 'Everything may be all right.'
'Everything's going to be fine. Mother will be crazy about you. She won't be able to help herself. Because of all the ...'
On the verge of becoming lyrical, Ronnie broke off abruptly. The Castle car had just come round the corner from the stables with Voules, the chauffeur, at the helm.
'I didn't know it was as late as that,' said Ronnie discontentedly.
The car drew up beside them, and he eyed Voules with a touch of austerity. It was not that he disliked the chauffeur, a man whom he had known since his boyhood and one with whom he had many a time played village cricket. It was simply that there are moments when a fellow wishes to be free from observation, and one of these is when he is about to bid farewell to his affianced.
However, there was good stuff in Ronald Fish. Ignoring the chauffeur's eye, which betrayed a disposition to be roguish, he gathered his loved one to him and, his face now a pretty cerise, kissed her with all a Fish's passion. This done, he entered the car, leaned out of the window, waved, went on waving, and continued 30 to wave till Sue was out of sight. Then, sitting down, he gazed straight before him, breathing a little heavily through the nostrils.
Sue, having lingered until the car had turned the corner of the drive and was hidden by a clump of rhododendrons, walked pensively back to the terrace.
The August sun was now blazing down in all its imperious majesty. Insects were chirping sleepily in the grass, and the hum of bees in the lavender borders united with the sun and the chirping to engender sloth. A little wistfully Sue looked past the shrubbery at the cedar-shaded lawn where the Hon. Galahad Threep-wood, thoughtfully sipping a whisky and soda, lay back in a deep chair, cool and at his ease. There was another chair beside him, and she knew that he had placed it there for her.
But duty is duty, no matter how warm the sun and drowsy the drone of insects. Ronnie had asked her to go and talk pig to Lord Emsworth, and the task must be performed.
She descended the broad stone steps and, turning westward, made for the corner of the estate sacred to that noble Berkshire sow, Empress of Blandings.
The boudoir of the Empress was situated in a little meadow, dappled with buttercups and daisies, round two sides of which there flowed in a silver semicircle the stream which fed the lake. Lord Emsworth, as his custom was, had pottered off there directly after breakfast, and now, at half past
'I keep worrying about your mother.'
'And I keep telling you...'
'I know. But I've got that funny feeling you get sometimes that things are going to happen. Trouble, trouble. A dark lady coming over the water.'
'Mother's fair.'
'It doesn't make it any better. I've got that presentiment.'
'Well, I don't see why you should. Everything's gone without a hitch so far.'
'That's just what I mean. I've been so frightfully happy, and I feel that all the beastly things that spoil happiness are just biding their time. Waiting. They can't do nothin' till Martin gets here!'
'Eh?'
'I was thinking of a thing one of the girls used to play on her gramophone in the dressing-room, the last show I was in. It was about a Negro who goes to a haunted house, and demon cats keep coming in, each bigger and more horrible than the last, and as each one comes in it says to the others, "Shall we start in on him now ?" and they shake their heads and say, "Not yet. We can't do nothin' till Martin gets here." Well, I can't help feeling that Martin soon will be here.'
Ronnie had found the word for which he had been searching. 'Morbid. I knew it began with an m. Don't be so dashed morbid!'
Sue gave herself a little shake, like a dog coming out of a pond. She put her arm in Ronnie's and gave it a squeeze. 'I suppose it is morbid.' 'Of course it is.' 'Everything may be all right.'
'Everything's going to be fine. Mother will be crazy about you. She won't be able to help herself. Because of all the ...'
On the verge of becoming lyrical, Ronnie broke off abruptly. The Castle car had just come round the corner from the stables with Voules, the chauffeur, at the helm.
'I didn't know it was as late as that,' said Ronnie discontentedly.
The car drew up beside them, and he eyed Voules with a touch of austerity. It was not that he disliked the chauffeur, a man whom he had known since his boyhood and one with whom he had many a time played village cricket. It was simply that there are moments when a fellow wishes to be free from observation, and one of these is when he is about to bid farewell to his affianced.
However, there was good stuff in Ronald Fish. Ignoring the chauffeur's eye, which betrayed a disposition to be roguish, he gathered his loved one to him and, his face now a pretty cerise, kissed her with all a Fish's passion. This done, he entered the car, leaned out of the window, waved, went on waving, and continued 30 to wave till Sue was out of sight. Then, sitting down, he gazed straight before him, breathing a little heavily through the nostrils.
Sue, having lingered until the car had turned the corner of the drive and was hidden by a clump of rhododendrons, walked pensively back to the terrace.
The August sun was now blazing down in all its imperious majesty. Insects were chirping sleepily in the grass, and the hum of bees in the lavender borders united with the sun and the chirping to engender sloth. A little wistfully Sue looked past the shrubbery at the cedar-shaded lawn where the Hon. Galahad Threep-wood, thoughtfully sipping a whisky and soda, lay back in a deep chair, cool and at his ease. There was another chair beside him, and she knew that he had placed it there for her.
But duty is duty, no matter how warm the sun and drowsy the drone of insects. Ronnie had asked her to go and talk pig to Lord Emsworth, and the task must be performed.
She descended the broad stone steps and, turning westward, made for the corner of the estate sacred to that noble Berkshire sow, Empress of Blandings.
The boudoir of the Empress was situated in a little meadow, dappled with buttercups and daisies, round two sides of which there flowed in a silver semicircle the stream which fed the lake. Lord Emsworth, as his custom was, had pottered off there directly after breakfast, and now, at half past
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