Part 3 (2/2)
”By your leave!” chanted a porter behind them, and a baggage-truck clove them apart.
”We can't talk in a crowded station,” said Derek irritably. ”Let me get you to the taxi and take you to the hotel.... What do you want to know about Jill?”
”Everything. Where does she come from? Who are her people? I don't know any Mariners.”
”I haven't cross-examined her,” said Derek stiffly. ”But I do know that her parents are dead. Her father was an American.”
”American!”
”Americans frequently have daughters, I believe.”
”There is nothing to be gained by losing your temper,” said Lady Underhill with steely calm.
”There is nothing to be gained, as far as I can see, by all this talk,” retorted Derek. He wondered vexedly why his mother always had this power of making him lose control of himself. He hated to lose control of himself. It upset him, and blurred that vision which he liked to have of himself as a calm, important man superior to ordinary weaknesses. ”Jill and I are engaged, and there is an end to it.”
”Don't be a fool,” said Lady Underhill, and was driven away by another baggage-truck. ”You know perfectly well,” she resumed, returning to the attack, ”that your marriage is a matter of the greatest concern to me and to the whole of the family.”
”Listen, mother!” Derek's long wait on the draughty platform had generated an irritability which overcame the deep-seated awe of his mother which was the result of years of defeat in battles of the will.
”Let me tell you in a few words all that I know of Jill, and then we'll drop the subject. In the first place, she is a lady. Secondly, she has plenty of money....”
”The Underhills do not need to marry for money.”
”I am not marrying for money!”
”Well, go on.”
”I have already described to you in my letter--very inadequately, but I did my best--what she looks like. Her sweetness, her lovableness, all the subtle things about her which go to make her what she is, you will have to judge for yourself.”
”I intend to!”
”Well, that's all, then. She lives with her uncle, a Major Selby....”
”Major Selby? What regiment?”
”I didn't ask him,” snapped the goaded Derek. ”And, in the name of heaven, what does it matter? If you are worrying about Major Selby's social standing, I may as well tell you that he used to know father.”
”What! When? Where?”
”Years ago. In India, when father was at Simla.”
”Selby? Selby? Not Christopher Selby?”
”Oh, you remember him?”
”I certainly remember him! Not that he and I ever met, but your father often spoke of him.”
Derek was relieved. It was abominable that this sort of thing should matter, but one had to face facts, and, as far as his mother was concerned, it did. The fact that Jill's uncle had known his dead father would make all the difference to Lady Underhill.
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