thumping its chest.'
Jane knitted her brow anxiously.
'Father's a pretty hard egg, isn't he?'
'It is not for me to criticize your father,' said Packy primly, 'but I can tell you this – if he ever asks me to come down a lonely alley with him to see his stamp collection I shall refuse with considerable firmness.'
'I never realized till now that he was quite such a man-eater. I've hardly seen him these last two years. I've been in Paris, finishing. I wonder if it was really wise to send Blair up?'
'Is he insured?'
'The trouble is, you see, Father has very decided views about the sort of man he wants me to marry. That's what has made us keep the thing a secret. He expects me to make a big match.'
'Some belted Earl?'
'It looks more like a belted Vicomte at the moment. He is taking me to visit some people named Gedge who live in a Château over in Brittany. It belongs to a French Vicomtesse, and I feel sure Father's real reason for going there is that her son will be there and he wants to bring us together. He practically said as much this morning. I can't see what else would take him to a place like St Rocque.'
'St Rocque? This fellow your father wants you to marry isn't the Vicomte de Blissac, by any chance?'
'Yes. Why, do you know him?'
'I was talking to him only this afternoon. Well, this is certainly where I can oblige with a word in season. You mustn't do it. You positively mustn't. I'm not saying a word against the dear old Veek, mind you. As a companion for a merry evening in the pleasure zone of a great city he stands almost without a peer. But if I were a girl I wouldn't marry him on a bet. He isn't the type. I love him like a brother, but he's the fellow who first suggested the title "What Fun Frenchmen Have". I should imagine New York is talking about him still. Even in circles which prided themselves on being a trifle rapid, his work was considered swift. My good kid, don't dream of marrying him.'
'I'm not going to. And don't call me your good kid. I'm going to marry Blair.'
Packy did not want to depress her, but he could not help looking doubtful.
'You think you are,' he said. 'But my experience is that you never know who you're going to marry in this world. I once thought I was going to marry a cabaret girl called Myrtle Blandish.'
'Were you engaged to her?'
'All signed on the dotted line. And then one day I got a letter from her saying that she had run off with a man named Scott or Pott or even – her handwriting was practically illegible – Bott. It just shows you, doesn't it? However, I can see now that it was the best thing that could have happened – except possibly for poor old Bott. A nice girl, but essentially a female Veek. It wouldn't have done. Her habit of never going to bed before five would alone have been enough to spoil the cosiness of the home.'
And now you're engaged to Lord Stableford's daughter? Rather a step up.'
'Quite. Both socially and spiritually. They don't come more spiritual than Beatrice.'
'Is that her name? Beatrice what?'
'Bracken.'
'Not Lady Beatrice Bracken? I've seen photographs of her in the papers. She must be lovely.'
'Lovely! Say, have you ever seen Greta Garbo?'
'Yes.'
And Constance Bennett?'
'Yes.'
And Norma Shearer?'
'Of course I have.'
'Mix 'em together and what have you got? Beatrice.'
And did you really say what you were telling us to Lord Stableford?'
'Well, not those actual words, perhaps. But I was firm with him, very firm.'
And he crawled?'
'I had him pawing at my trouser-legs. Of course, I'm pretty rich. That may have helped.'
'Blair has hardly any money.'
'But they tell me that everybody whose opinion matters regards him as one of the leaders of the younger school of novelists.'
'So he is. But he writes the sort of books that most people don't read. He's above their heads, I mean. As a matter of fact, he makes practically nothing out of his novels.'
'How does he eat?'
'He's got a job with the British Broadcasting
Jane knitted her brow anxiously.
'Father's a pretty hard egg, isn't he?'
'It is not for me to criticize your father,' said Packy primly, 'but I can tell you this – if he ever asks me to come down a lonely alley with him to see his stamp collection I shall refuse with considerable firmness.'
'I never realized till now that he was quite such a man-eater. I've hardly seen him these last two years. I've been in Paris, finishing. I wonder if it was really wise to send Blair up?'
'Is he insured?'
'The trouble is, you see, Father has very decided views about the sort of man he wants me to marry. That's what has made us keep the thing a secret. He expects me to make a big match.'
'Some belted Earl?'
'It looks more like a belted Vicomte at the moment. He is taking me to visit some people named Gedge who live in a Château over in Brittany. It belongs to a French Vicomtesse, and I feel sure Father's real reason for going there is that her son will be there and he wants to bring us together. He practically said as much this morning. I can't see what else would take him to a place like St Rocque.'
'St Rocque? This fellow your father wants you to marry isn't the Vicomte de Blissac, by any chance?'
'Yes. Why, do you know him?'
'I was talking to him only this afternoon. Well, this is certainly where I can oblige with a word in season. You mustn't do it. You positively mustn't. I'm not saying a word against the dear old Veek, mind you. As a companion for a merry evening in the pleasure zone of a great city he stands almost without a peer. But if I were a girl I wouldn't marry him on a bet. He isn't the type. I love him like a brother, but he's the fellow who first suggested the title "What Fun Frenchmen Have". I should imagine New York is talking about him still. Even in circles which prided themselves on being a trifle rapid, his work was considered swift. My good kid, don't dream of marrying him.'
'I'm not going to. And don't call me your good kid. I'm going to marry Blair.'
Packy did not want to depress her, but he could not help looking doubtful.
'You think you are,' he said. 'But my experience is that you never know who you're going to marry in this world. I once thought I was going to marry a cabaret girl called Myrtle Blandish.'
'Were you engaged to her?'
'All signed on the dotted line. And then one day I got a letter from her saying that she had run off with a man named Scott or Pott or even – her handwriting was practically illegible – Bott. It just shows you, doesn't it? However, I can see now that it was the best thing that could have happened – except possibly for poor old Bott. A nice girl, but essentially a female Veek. It wouldn't have done. Her habit of never going to bed before five would alone have been enough to spoil the cosiness of the home.'
And now you're engaged to Lord Stableford's daughter? Rather a step up.'
'Quite. Both socially and spiritually. They don't come more spiritual than Beatrice.'
'Is that her name? Beatrice what?'
'Bracken.'
'Not Lady Beatrice Bracken? I've seen photographs of her in the papers. She must be lovely.'
'Lovely! Say, have you ever seen Greta Garbo?'
'Yes.'
And Constance Bennett?'
'Yes.'
And Norma Shearer?'
'Of course I have.'
'Mix 'em together and what have you got? Beatrice.'
And did you really say what you were telling us to Lord Stableford?'
'Well, not those actual words, perhaps. But I was firm with him, very firm.'
And he crawled?'
'I had him pawing at my trouser-legs. Of course, I'm pretty rich. That may have helped.'
'Blair has hardly any money.'
'But they tell me that everybody whose opinion matters regards him as one of the leaders of the younger school of novelists.'
'So he is. But he writes the sort of books that most people don't read. He's above their heads, I mean. As a matter of fact, he makes practically nothing out of his novels.'
'How does he eat?'
'He's got a job with the British Broadcasting
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