Parlous Times: A Novel of Modern Diplomacy

Kent-Lauriston frowned, and tugged his moustache a trifle harder, to imply that he now understood the affair to be of a more complex order, requiring the aid of skilful diplomacy, in place of the simple directness of five-pound notes.

"Want my advice, I suppose?"

"Yes," admitted Stanley, "and so I'd better make a clean breast of the matter."

"Decidedly."

"The fact is, I want to marry – or rather, don't want to marry – no, that's not it either – I want to marry the girl bad enough, but I think I'd better not. It would be what the world – what you might call, a foolish match."

"Deucedly hard hit, I suppose?"

"You see," continued the Secretary, ignoring his friend's question, "I know I oughtn't to marry her, but left to myself, I'd do it, and I need a jolly good rowing – only you mustn't be disrespectful to the lady – I – I couldn't stand that."

"I think I know her name."

"Miss Fitzgerald. You dined with her at the Hyde Park Club last evening."

"Daughter of old Fitzgerald of the – th Hussars – "

"I – I believe that was her father's regiment, but now she lives – "

"Lives!" interjected Kent-Lauriston. "No, she doesn't live – visits round with her relatives – old Irish ancestry – ruined castles and no rents – washy blue eyes and hair, at present, golden."

"She is one of the most beautiful Irish girls I've ever seen," cried Stanley. "In repose her face is spirituelle. She is a cousin of Lord Westmoorland."

"Fourteenth cousin – twice removed."

"I don't know her degree of relationship."

"I do."

"She's splendid vitality and courage," said the Secretary, desirous of turning the conversation, which threatened to drift into dangerous channels. "She's dashing, thoroughly dashing."

"Gad, I'm with you there! I've seldom seen a better horse-woman. I've watched her more than once in the hunting field put her gee at hedges and ditches that many a Master of Hounds would have fought shy of, – and clear 'em, too."

Stanley smiled, delighted to hear a word of commendation from a quarter where he least expected it, but Kent-Lauriston's next remark was less gratifying.

"Little rapid, isn't she? Trifle fond of fizz-water and cigarettes?"

"She's the spirits of youth," said the Secretary, a trifle coldly.

"Let me see," mused his adviser. "How about that Hunt Ball at Leamington?"

"I wasn't there, and I must ask you to remember that you're talking of a lady."

"Um, pity!" said his friend ambiguously, and added, "How far have you put your foot in it?"

"Well, I haven't asked her to marry me."

"Ah. Order me another whiskey and soda, please," and Kent-Lauriston sat puffing a cigarette, and tugging at his moustache till the beverage came. Then he drank it thoughtfully, not saying a word; a silence that was full of meaning to Stanley, who flushed and began to fidget uneasily about the room.

Having finished the last drop, and disposed of his cigarette, his adviser looked up and said shortly: —

"How did this begin?"

"I met her some months ago – but only got to know her intimately at the races."

"Derby?"

"No, Ascot."

"Royal Enclosure, of course."

"Royal Enclosure, of course. She was visiting her aunt."

"I know. That type of girl has dozens of aunts."

"Her uncle brought her down and introduced us. He left her a moment to go to the Paddock and never came back."

"Um, left you to do the honours."

"Exactly so, and I did them. Saw the crowd, saw the gees, had lunch – you know the programme."

"Only too well. Do any betting?"

"A little."

"Thought it was against your principles. You told me so once."

"I – I didn't bet – that is – "

"Oh, I see. She did."

"Rather – a good round sum."

"You knew the amount?"

"Well, the fact is – she'd given her uncle her pocket-book, and he got lost."

"Clever uncle; so you paid the reckoning."

"She said she knew the winning horse."

"We always do know the winners."

"This was an exception to prove the rule."

"So you put down – and she never paid up."