"And, Austin--there's just one more thing. You needn't say anything to
Isabel about the other business--I mean about my mother's securities."
"Ah?" said Wrayford, pausing.
Stilling shifted from one foot to the other. "I'd rather put that to
the old lady myself. I can make it clear to her. She idolizes me,
you know--and, hang it! I've got a good record. Up to now, I mean. My
mother's been in clover since I married; I may say she's been my first
thought. And I don't want her to hear of this beastly business from
Isabel. Isabel's a little harsh at times--and of course this isn't going
to make her any easier to live with."
"Very well," said Wrayford.
Stilling, with a look of relief, walked toward the window which opened
on the terrace. "Gad! what a queer night! Hot as the kitchen-range.
Shouldn't wonder if we had a squall before morning. I wonder if that
infernal skipper took in the launch's awnings before he went home."
Wrayford stopped with his hand on the door. "Yes, I saw him do it. She's
shipshape for the night."
"Good! That saves me a run down to the shore."
"Good night, then," said Wrayford.
"Good night, old man. You'll tell her?"
"I'll tell her."
"And mum about my mother!" his host called after him.