"Indeed?--Then why this genteel refection?" Here Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was
forced to look over his shoulder into the room and answer the invisible
Selina. "Yes, my own. I am speaking to Miss Marjory."
Meanwhile Jack was signalling frantically to Marjolaine, who, on her
part, was as frantically motioning him to keep still. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn
again leant forward, and Jack vanished only just in time.
Marjolaine explained. "I--I always take a little refreshment at this
hour."
It was quite obvious that Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn did not believe her.
"How singularly unobservant I am! I have never noticed it. Wait one
moment. I 'll come and help you."
This would never do. "No, thank you," cried Marjolaine, "I am sure your
wife wants you." And she added, as a parting shot, "She sees so little
of you!"
Then taking her courage in both hands she hurried into the Gazebo, where
she and Jack stood, pictures of horror, silently awaiting Mr.
Brooke-Hoskyn's next move.
The latter leant far out of his window vainly endeavouring to peer round
the corner. "Curious, very curious," he muttered.
"Did you hear him?" asked Marjory, in a tragic whisper.
"If he comes here I 'll punch his head," growled Jack.
"Be quiet!"--And again they both listened.
But Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's attention was engaged by Selina, and it was
clear from his remarks that the dear lady was not in her pleasantest
humour. "No, my dear, of course I did n't mean to go.--_Do_ you think
her an ugly little thing?--Matter of taste.--Oh, come! Not jealous, my
own one?--Hold your hand?--Oh, certainly, if you wish it!" And down
came the window with a crash and what sounded very like a fine Saxon
monosyllable.
Marjolaine and Jack, hearing the window close, uttered a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness!" cried Marjolaine; and then, being a daughter of Eve,
"Now you see what you 've done!"
"'Pon my honour, I 've done nothing. Just waited hours."
"Hours, indeed!" said the girl, scornfully.
"It seemed hours," answered Jack, insinuatingly. "It seemed
hours--Miss--Lucy Pryor."
"Lucy Pryor? Oh! you got that out of the book! That was Maman's name
before she married. My name's Lachesnais."
"Beg pardon?"
"La-ches-nais. Marjolaine Lachesnais. You don't pronounce the middle
_s_."
"Are you French?"
"My father was." She had filled the tumbler with claret and was holding
it out to Jack. "Never mind about all that. Make haste."
Jack rose to his feet, tumbler in hand.
"Marjolaine--? That means Marjoram, does n't it?"
"Do you know French?"
Jack bowed as he swallowed the claret. He swallowed unwisely. It was a
lady's claret, and that and a lady's cigar are things to be avoided by
the judicious. Indeed Jack was shaken from head to foot by a convulsive
shudder. "Oh Lord!" said he involuntarily. But he pulled himself
together like a man. "I beg pardon!--Know French? Very little.
Marjoram--sweet Marjoram--how appropriate!"
Marjolaine was eyeing him with grave suspicion. "You are not drinking.
It is Maman's claret!"
Jack gazed stonily at his half-empty tumbler. "Does she--does she take
this for her health?"
"Yes. As medicine."
"As medicine--I understand."
"You said you were thirsty."
"It's a wonderful wine. Quenches your thirst at once." He put the
glass away from him.
"Take some cake?" said Marjolaine.
She had forgotten to bring a knife, so Jack, sailorlike, broke the cake
in two pieces.
"I say!" he cried, "you must have some too, or I shall feel greedy!"
And there they sat, like two children, contentedly munching and swinging
their legs.
"I shall call you Marjory," said Jack, between two bites.
"They all do," answered Marjolaine, with her mouth full.
"Do they?" asked Jack ferociously. "Who?"