"I'll be tooling off, then."
"If you must."
"I think I'd better."
"Well, pip pip."
"Toodle-oo," I said, and out into the fresh air.
Knowing what was waiting for me at home, I would have preferred to go
to the club and spend the rest of the day there. But the thing had to
be faced.
"Well?" said Aunt Agatha, as I trickled into the sitting room.
"Well, yes and no," I replied.
"What do you mean? Did she refuse the money?"
"Not exactly."
"She accepted it?"
"Well, there, again, not precisely."
I explained what had happened. I wasn't expecting her to be any too
frightfully pleased, and it's as well that I wasn't, because she
wasn't. In fact, as the story unfolded, her comments became fruitier
and fruitier, and when I had finished she uttered an exclamation that
nearly broke a window. It sounded something like "Gor!"--as if she had
started to say "Gorblimey!" and had remembered her ancient lineage
just in time.
"I'm sorry," I said. "And can a man say more? I lost my nerve. The old
morale suddenly turned blue on me. It's the sort of thing that might
have happened to anyone."
"I never heard of anything so spineless in my life."