"So her mother told me."
"And you are dining there."
"In a few minutes."
The old man took it in, turned it over. It seemed not only victory but
peace, and peace with annexation.
"Very good then. I draw the veil over your road-house. Put the young
woman in a flat. Put her in two flats. Nobody who is anybody ever sees
anything that was not intended for them. Don't beat the drum. That is
all that the right people ask and all I require, except----"
He paused, considered the annexation and added: "I wish you an excellent
appetite. Austen himself was a drivelling idiot and his wife used to be
a rare old girl--is still, I daresay--but they came of good stock, and
the daughter has looks and no brains. You couldn't do better."
He paused again, appeared to lose himself in the past, looked up and
suddenly exclaimed: "You are ridiculous in that damned thing! Oblige me
by getting out."
The young man extracted himself and sat down on the malachite bench. It
was more exposed than the trench and the fumes of the gas bomb that his
father had hurled were hazardous still. Additional protection from them
was needed and he said: "What will you do about Benny?"
The old man disliked to be questioned. On the arm of his chair he beat
with his fingers a quick, brief tattoo.
"Benny belongs to the Place. His father served me there. His grandfather
served yours. You don't get such people nowadays."
Negligently the young man smoothed his tie. "Very picturesque and
feudal. But I don't want him."
His father did not seem to hear, or to care. He was afar, wandering from
it. "Ever notice that he has only one thumb? Same way with his father.
Probably a family trait. I wish there were more families like 'em. This
house is full of trollops and rascals. So is Newport. The house at
Newport is full of rapscallions. Believe I'll offer it to the Government
for a hospital. I wish to God Sally would come over and run it. Do you
ever hear from her?"