'Hullo,' she said. This is Imogen.'
But it was a male voice that spoke:
'Oh, there you are. Well, it's all fixed.'
'What?'
'Yes. Busby has receipted the bill.'
'Not the whole bill.'
'In full.'
'Ooh!'
'I thought you would be pleased.'
'But you're a perfect marvel. However did you manage it?'
'Full details will be supplied when we meet.'
'When will that be?'
'In a trice.'
'Good. Do hurry.'
'I will. Oh, and one other thing.'
'Yes?'
'Will you marry me?'
'What?'
'Marry me.'
'Did you say, would I marry you?'
'That's right. Marry. M for mayonnaise—'
Jane began to giggle feebly.
'Are you sobbing?' said the voice.
'I'm laughing.'
'Not so good. I don't like the sound of that. Mocking laughter, eh? No, rather sinister. You won't marry me?'
'No.'
'Then will you order me a medium dry Martini? I'll be right along.'
CHAPTER 5
'WHY not?' asked Joe.
Jane was inspecting her plate of hors d'oeuvres, conscious, when it was too late, as everybody is, that she had made the wrong choice.
'Don't you always feel,' she said, 'that what you really want is just sardines?'
'I thought I had made it abundantly clear that I wanted you.'
'I mean, instead of a lot of potato salad and pickled cabbage.'
'Don't let us wander off on to the subject of potato salad,' he said gently. 'You don't seem to realize that I have paid you the greatest compliment a man can pay a woman – or so I read somewhere.'
'Oh, I do.'
'Then stick to the point and let us have none of this light talk about pickled cabbage. I asked you to marry me. You said you wouldn't. I now come right back at you by asking: Why not?'
'I promised mother I would never marry a man I had only known five minutes.'
'More like twenty, surely.'
'Well, even twenty.'
'You're upsetting all my plans.'
'I'm sorry. But you do realize, don't you, that we are practically strangers?'
'Girls often employ that apparently specious argument on a man. Only to discover later that he was a tadpole and they were a fish in the Palaeozoic Age. Then they look silly.'
'Do you think you and I were?'
'Of course. I remember it distinctly. Bless my soul, those were the days. Never a dull moment.'
'I don't think I like tadpoles.'
'Ah, but I've come on a lot since then. I'm a pretty brilliant figure these days. For one thing, I've written a play.'
'So has everybody.'
'True. But where I get the bulge is that mine has been produced, and with stupendous success. I'll tell you all about it, shall I? Or I might read you the notices. I have them here.'
'Later on, I think, don't you?'
'Any time that suits you.'
'I mean, I'm very glad you have had a stupendous success, and I'm simply dying to hear all about it, but you haven't told me yet about Mr Busby.'
'Oh, that?'
'Yes.'
'A bagatelle. You really want to hear what happened?'
'Start at the beginning and don't leave out anything. So far, it seems like a miracle to me.'
Joe took a sip of hock cup.
'Well, it's scarcely worth talking about, and I shall always regard it as one of my purely minor triumphs, but here is the scenario. When I left you, I went to his room. "Ha, Busby!" I said. And he said, "Oh, it's you, is it?" And I said yes, it was, and told him that I had come about your bill.'
'And then—'
'Well, then, I admit, I began by taking the wrong line. The one I sketched out for you, if you recall.'
'You appealed to his better feelings?'
'Exactly. I said here was a lovely girl, the loveliest girl I had ever seen, with the most wonderful eyes and a sort of how-shall-I-describe-it about her, looking like a Fournier picture in La Vie Parisienne come to life, asking a favour of him, and was he going to refuse it? Was he going to send her away with those wonderful eyes swimming in tears? Was he going to compel her to break it to her white-haired father—'
'He's only grizzled.'
' – her grizzled father that the ramp was still on and that he had got to dig down into his jeans for ninety-six pounds, three and eleven? Was he, from sheer sordid greed, going to cast a blight on a once-happy home and make a deserving big-game hunter wish that he had never seen a charging rhinoceros in his life? Well, to cut a long story short, he was. He was quite definite about it. I begged him to think again. I said that this was not the real Mortimer Busby speaking. I implored him to make a gesture. I'll tell you something about your eyes,' said Joe. 'Most people would say they were blue – the deep, soft, unearthly blue of a Southern California summer twilight, and, in a sense, they would be right. They are blue. But at certain moments there comes into them a sort of green, like the sea at—'
'Never mind my eyes. I expect they're all right—'
'They're super-colossal.'
' – but in any case, it's too late to do anything about them now. You were saying you asked him to make a gesture. Upon which—'
'Upon which, he curtly refused to make a gesture. So I did. I raised my hand and allowed it to hover over his back like a butterfly about to settle on some lovely flower.'
'Why was that so good?'
'Because he had already informed me that he had been sitting in the sun and got his shoulders skinned. Well, after that everything went as smooth as the oil he should have used, but didn't. I told him that, unless he let Conscience be his guide, I proposed to slap him on the back and keep right along slapping; and that, though he would no doubt yell for assistance, before that assistance could arrive I should have been able to administer fully fifty sloshes – thirteen, as he was a publisher, of course counting as twelve. Was not this, I said, a heavy price to pay for the satisfaction of gypping a retired hippopotamus shooter out of a mere ninety-six, three, eleven? He saw my point, and with pretty eagerness reached for his fountain pen and started signing. The receipted bill is on the table before you. Or, rather,' said Joe, retrieving it and cleaning it with his napkin, 'in the butter dish. Here you are.'
Jane took it devoutly.
'You really are the most wonderful man on earth,' she said.
'I'm pretty good,' admitted Joe. 'But surely, if you feel that way—'
'No. My admiration stops short of marrying you.'
'Ah, come on. Make an effort.'
'I'm sorry.'
'You'll be sorrier. When it is too late, you will realize what you have missed, and will suffer from what is called remorse. Let's get this thing threshed out. What seems to be the difficulty?'
'For one thing, I'm already engaged.'
'Well, you were engaged for lunch.'
'That's true.'
Joe mused.
'You're engaged, are you?'
'Yes.'
'Engaged, eh?'
'Yes, Mr Bones, engaged.'
'Who is this insect?'
'Nobody you know.'
'Well, tell me the whole sordid story. Is he worthy of you?'
'Quite.'
'That's what you think. Rich?'
'Poor.'
'As I supposed. Just after you for your money.'
'What money?'
'Isn't your father rolling in the stuff?'
'He hasn't a bean. We live on a handful of rice, like the coolies. That's why I'm eating so much now. I don't often taste meat.'
'But I thought Barts had it in sackfuls.'
'Not my Bart.'
'Odd. They always have in the manuscripts submitted to my late employer. And in those manuscripts, I may mention, they don't stand for any nonsense from penniless suitors. The
y reach for the horsewhip and get after them. Has your father shown any activity in that direction?'
'No.'
'I don't believe the man's a Bart at all. A knight at the most.'
'You see, he hasn't heard yet that I've got a penniless suitor.'
'You haven't told him of this ghastly entanglement of yours?'
'No.'
'Cowardy custard.'
'It isn't cowardy custard, at all. I want them to get to know and learn to love each other before I break the news. When they do, I shall announce the engagement. And never will the wedding bells have rung out more merrily in the little village church—'
'Don't go on. You're making me sick.'
'I'm sorry. Will you send us a fish slice?'
'Certainly not. I disapprove of the whole thing. Most unsuitable. You must get out of it at once. Write him a letter, telling him it's all off, and then come along with me to the nearest registrar's.'
'You think that would be fun?'
'I should enjoy it.'
'I shouldn't.'
'You won't write him a letter, telling him it's all off?'
'I will not.'
'Just as you say. I don't want to rush you, of course.'
'No, I can see that.'
'My wooing must be conducted in a slow, formal, orderly manner. There must be nothing of which Emily Post would disapprove. First of all, we must tell each other all about ourselves.'
'Why is that?'
'So that we can discover mutual friends, mutual tastes, and so on. On that foundation we can build. At present, I can see that the mere fact that we went around together a lot in the Palaeozoic Age isn't enough. We shall have to start from scratch, just as if we had never met before. I must face the fact that you don't even know my name. Oh, by the way, you said one rather disturbing thing on the telephone. Unless I am mistaken, your opening words were "This is Imogen".'
'I was christened Imogen.'
'But what a perfectly ghastly name. How did you get it?'
'It was my mother's doing, I believe.'
'Well, I wouldn't say a word against your mother, of course—'
'You'd better not.'
'But I can't possibly call you Imogen.'
'Have you considered the idea of calling me Miss Abbott?'
'What, an old buddy like me?'
'As a matter of fact, most people call me Jane.'
'Well, that's not so bad. I like Jane. Or I might call you Ginger. Because of your hair.'
'My hair is not ginger.'
'It is. It's a lovely golden ginger. However, Jane will do. Jane? Jane? Yes, Jane's all right. And now let us go into this matter of mutual friends. Nothing creates a pleasanter bond than the discovery of a flock of mutual friends. Do you know a man named Faraday?'
'No. Do you know a girl named Purvis?'
'No. Do you know men named Thompson, Butterworth, Allenby, Jukes and Desborough-Smith?'
'No. Do you know girls named Merridew, Cleghorn, Foster, Wentworth and Bates?'
'I do not. We don't seem to move in the same circles at all. Do you live in London?'
'No. I live at a place called Walsingford Hall, in Berkshire.'
'Ah, that explains it. Buried in the country, eh? No wonder you don't know Faraday, Thompson, Butterworth, Allenby, Jukes and Desborough-Smith. Nice place, is it?'
'No.'
'You surprise me. It sounds fine. Why not?'
'Because my great-great-uncle rebuilt it in the Victorian era. It's awful. We're trying to sell it.'
'I would, if I were you. Then you could come to London and meet Faraday, Thompson, Butterworth, Allenby and the rest of the boys.'
'The trouble is that it's so hideous that our only hope is somebody astigmatic.'
'Have you any cockeyed prospect in view?'
'Well – touch wood – yes. There's an American woman, the Princess Dwornitzchek— What's the matter?'
'There!' said Joe, speaking a little thickly, for the fist which he had banged upon the table had struck the prongs of a fork, and he was sucking it. 'I knew, if we went on long enough, we should scare up some mutual – I won't say "friend" – acquaintance.'
'Do you know the Princess?'
'My stepmother.'
'She isn't!'
'She is too. I have documents to prove it.'
Jane looked at him, open-mouthed.
'You aren't Tubby's brother Joe?'
'I certainly am Tubby's brother Joe. Though, taking into consideration my eminence, it might be better to put it that he is my brother Tubby. Fancy you knowing him. Go on. You say it.'
'Say what?'
'About it being a small world.'
'Well, it is extraordinary that you should be Tubby's brother Joe the very morning he was talking about you.'
'It isn't the only morning I've been Tubby's brother Joe, by any manner of means. No, indeed. Many and many's the morning, rain and shine, fair weather and foul—' An idea struck Joe. 'He's not this fellow you're engaged to?'
'No,' said Jane shortly. She had remembered that she had not yet forgiven Tubby.
'Good. I should have hated to blight a brother's life. So he was talking about me, was he? He could have no nobler subject. What was he saying?'
'He said he thought you were in Mr Busby's publishing business.'
'So did Busby, poor devil. I had to break it to him that I wasn't. Painful. What else?'
'He told me that you and your stepmother had not got on very well together.'
'A conservative way of putting it. Did he go into details?'
'He said she had – "slung you out" was the expression he used.'
'So that's the story going the round of the clubs, is it? Let me tell you that I left home of my own volition and under my own steam. Shall I tell you all about it? It will make you think even more highly of me, for it shows me up in a very attractive light. One morning, out of a blue sky, what do you think? She sprang it on me that she wanted me to marry a certain wench of means, a girl I particularly disliked. I said I wouldn't. Heated words ensued. I will not give you the whole of the discussion, just the gist. And remember that when I employ a shrill, mean, squeaky voice, it's my stepmother speaking, and when I use a firm, manly, resonant voice, it's me. "You will marry this girl on pain of my signal displeasure."'
'Did she really talk like that?'
'Just like that. It was one of the things I disliked in her. Well, I drew myself up and said "No! No!" I said. "There are some matters on which a man is not to be dictated to. Besides, I'm going to wait for young Ginger."'
'Jane, if you don't mind.'
'I beg your pardon. "I'm going to wait for young Jane," I said. "She'll be along at any moment, and a fine sap I should look if I was married to someone else when she arrived." She glared at me through her lorgnette. "Is this your final word?" I lit a cigarette. "It is," I said. "You fully realize the consequences?" "I do," I said, and off I went, scorning her gold. Pretty creditable, don't you think?'
'Only what any man would have done.'
'Tubby wouldn't have done it in a hundred years. Nor, or I am vastly mistaken, would Faraday, Thompson, Butterworth, Allenby, Jukes or Desborough-Smith. Especially Desborough-Smith. Only a man of the most sterling nature would have done it. You're sure you don't want to marry a fellow capable of a thing like that?'
'No, really, thanks. I don't believe it, either.'
'Well, on the whole, I don't blame you.'
'Isn't it true?'
'Not in the least. I just made it up. But why did you think it wasn't?'
'Tubby told me that you left your stepmother when you were twenty-one. Even she wouldn't have expected you to get married at twenty-one.'
'You have a very keen, incisive mind,' said Joe admiringly. 'Lovely eyes, beautiful hair, perfect teeth and a keen, incisive mind. What you might call a full hand. Can you wonder that you have been selected for the position of Mrs J. J. Vanringham?'
'Why did you really leave home?'
; The smile suddenly faded out of his eyes. There was a short silence.
'Oh, there were reasons.'
'What reasons?'
'Suppose we talk about something else.'
Jane gave a little gasp, and the colour flamed into her face. She was a girl whom men had always rather gone out of their way to treat with a deferential respect, and to be snubbed was a new experience for her.
'Perhaps you will suggest a few subjects which you consider inoffensive,' she said. 'That will save a lot of trouble.'
Even to herself it sounded fatuous. And it was plain that he thought so, too, for the curious hard look vanished from his face, and his mouth widened into the familiar grin.
'I'm sorry' he said.
'Not at all,' said Jane distantly.
It was the injustice of it that stung her. She felt that she had been lured on and made a fool of. If a man as good as says to you: 'I am just a cheerful idiot. Let us talk nonsense for a while. It may amuse you till you feel you have had enough of it,' you accept him on those terms. You are naturally aggrieved when he suddenly changes the rules of the game and draws himself up with a cold 'Madam, you strangely forget yourself.
'I'm afraid I was abrupt.'
'You were abominably rude.'
'A much better way of putting it. You have a very happy gift of phrase.'
'Snubbing me for asking a perfectly natural—'
'I know, I know. My head is in the dust. I spoke without thinking. Your question brought up a picture which I don't like looking at, and I snapped automatically, like a dog with a sore paw. Of course I'll tell you why I left home.'
'I haven't the slightest desire to know.'
'Of course you have. You're all agog. You mustn't be pompous.'
'I'm sorry you find me pompous.'
'Quite all right. Faults on both sides.'
Jane got up.
'I must be going.'
'Don't be silly. You can't go yet. You haven't had your fruit salad.'
'I don't want any.'
'Then you shouldn't have ordered it,' said Joe severely. 'Three shillings! Do you think I'm made of money? Heaven knows I do not grudge you fruit salad, whatever the expense—'
'Good-bye.'
'You're really going?'
'Yes.'