“Oh, all right,” he said. “If she wants it. . . .”
“That’s right,” said Forsyth, shepherding him out of the room. . . .
A moment later he stood before his lady.
“Hullo, Belinda,” he said. “How—how are you?”
Miss Seneschal nodded.
“Full of it, thanks,” she said composedly. “How are you?”
“Bursting,” said Pomeroy. “Simply bursting, thanks. Awfully nice of old
Drawbridge to do us so proud.”
“Perfectly sweet of him,” said Belinda.
Forsyth brought forward a chair.
“Sit down,” he said.
Pomeroy subsided gratefully.
“The property,” said the lawyer, resuming his seat, “has been left to
you two jointly. I take it you came to see me to ask—not so much what
that means as where you each come in.” The two nodded, and Pomeroy
crossed his legs. “Well, first let me tell you what it means. It means
that each of you is absolute owner of _Les Iles d’Or_ and all the villa
contains—subject only to the other’s right. Each of you can take
possession as and when you please, invite what guests, install what
servants you like. Neither of you can exclude the other. If A is there,
and B decides to come, A can’t exclude B—or his servants or his ox or
his ass or anything that is his. B has a co-equal right. Very well. The
only way to enjoy a property so held is to make and abide by an
arrangement. The obvious and most simple way is for each to agree to use
it for half the year.”
Miss Seneschal frowned.
“My plans,” she said, “are rather unsettled. I don’t think I want to
bind myself . . .”
“I agree,” said Pomeroy. “The Biarritz feelin’ is apt to come with a
rush. An’ supposin’ one chose the wrong half.”
“Supposing,” said Belinda dreamily, “supposing, to begin with, we took
it for three months each. This is March. Well, you have it till the end
of June, and I’ll have it from then to October. Then if that works——”
“Nothing doing,” said Captain Pomeroy. Belinda started, and Forsyth’s
hand flew to his mouth. “The Biarritz season is short, but it’s very
sweet.”
“When is the season?” said Forsyth.
“Well, there are really two seasons,” said Belinda. “The Spring season
and——”
“Yes, you can have that one,” said Pomeroy. “What about July _nach_
September?”
“Oh, of course it’s more crowded then,” admitted Belinda, “but to my
mind the pleasantest time is in the Spring.”
“All right,” said Pomeroy promptly. “You have it now, and I’ll take over
on the first of July.”
Miss Seneschal swallowed.
“I can’t do that,” she said coldly. “I—I’m engaged from now till July.”
“So’m I,” said Pomeroy shortly. “Six deep. London season.”
There was a pregnant silence.