Part 25 (2/2)

Borden rang the bell for a drink.

”d.i.c.kinson was right,” he said. ”I've found a new star.”

Let.i.tia, on her return from the theatre that same evening, found her father seated in a comfortable corner of the library, with a volume of Don Quixote in his hand, a whisky and soda and a box of cigarettes by his side. He had exchanged his dinner jacket for a plain black velvet coat, and, as he laid his book down at her coming, she seemed to notice again that vague look of tiredness in his face.

”Quiet evening, dad?” she asked, flinging herself into a low chair by his side.

”A very pleasant one,” he replied. ”Montavon's party was postponed, but I have reopened an old fund of amus.e.m.e.nt here. With the exception of Borrow, none of our modern humourists appeal to me like Cervantes.”

”You wouldn't call Borrow exactly modern, would you?”

”Perhaps not,” the Marquis conceded. ”I may be wrong to ignore the literature of the present day, but such attempts as I have made to appreciate it have been unsatisfactory. You enjoyed the play, dear?”

”Very much,” Let.i.tia acquiesced. ”The house was crowded.”

”Any one you know?”

She mentioned a few names, then she hesitated. ”And that clever woman who wrote 'The Changing Earth' was there in a box--Marcia Hannaway.

She was with rather a dour-looking man--her publisher, I think Charlie said it was.”

The Marquis received the information with no signs of particular interest. Let.i.tia stretched out for a cigarette, lit it and looked a little appealingly at her father.

”Dad,” she said, ”I've made an awful idiot of myself.”

”In what direction?” the Marquis enquired sympathetically. ”If it is a financial matter, I am fortunately--”

”Worse!” Let.i.tia groaned. ”I've promised to marry Charlie Grantham.”

The Marquis stretched out his long, elegant hand and patted his daughter's.

”But, my dear child,” he said, ”surely that was inevitable, was it not?

I have looked upon it as almost certain to happen some day.”

”Well, I'm rather glad you take it like that,” Let.i.tia remarked. ”Now I come to think of it, I suppose I should have had to say 'yes'

sometime or another.”

”Where is Charlie?”

”Gone home in a huff, because I wouldn't let him kiss me in the car or bring him in with me.”

”Either course would surely have been usual,” the Marquis ventured.

”Perhaps, but I feel unusual,” Let.i.tia declared. ”It isn't that I mind marrying Charlie, but I know I shall detest being married to him.”

”One must remember, dear,” her father went on soothingly, ”that with us, marriage is scarcely a subject for neurotic ecstasies or most unwholesome hysterics. Your position imposes upon you the necessity of an alliance with some house of kindred a.s.sociations. The choice, therefore, is not a large one, and you are spared the very undignified compet.i.tive considerations which attach themselves to people when it does not matter whom on earth they marry. The Dukedom of Grantham is unfortunately not an ancient one, nor was it conferred upon such ill.u.s.trious stock as the Marquisate of Mandeleys. However, the Granthams have their place amongst us, and I imagine that the alliance will generally be considered satisfactory.”

”Oh, I hope so,” Let.i.tia replied, without enthusiasm. ”I only hope I shall find it satisfactory. I didn't mean to say 'yes' for at least another year.”

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