Kingdom Lost by Patricia Wentworth Page A

said Valentine literally. “But it hurts—here.” She touched her side. “Why does it hurt, Barclay?”
    â€œIt won’t go on hutting, kid. Things don’t. You think they’re going to, but they don’t. What’s Austin been doing?”
    â€œIt’s my money. He says he hasn’t got any, and he says he won’t marry me because I’ve got a lot. And I said I didn’t want to marry him or anybody.”
    Barclay leaned towards her over the table.
    â€œNow look here, kid! I’m going to talk to you like a Dutch uncle.”
    A fleeting gleam of interest crossed the mournful face.
    â€œHow does a Dutch uncle talk, Barclay?”
    â€œLike I’m going to. You just sit up and take notice, and you’ll know. Now, my dear, don’t you be in a hurry over this marrying business. For one thing, you’re a lot too young; and for another, you don’t know enough. See? Take Master Austin. I haven’t got anything against him except his temper. But you’ll meet dozens of young fellows that would suit you better and be a heap easier to live with. Why, I’d be a heap easier to live with myself—and if I thought it was playing the game, I’d make the running and cut Master Austin out.” He laughed good-naturedly, but he was watching her. “Eh, kid? What would you think of it if I did? Too old—eh—and too fat? That’s about the size of it—isn’t it?”
    Valentine looked interested.
    â€œYou’re much fatter than Austin. Are you very, very old?”
    â€œOld enough to be your Dutch uncle anyway—and old enough not to make a fool of myself.”
    Barclay’s voice was sufficiently rueful to attract her attention.
    â€œWhy did you say it like that?”
    â€œBecause I am a fool. Look here, kiddy, I’m going to play the game all right. But just supposing that things don’t turn out right for you, and there isn’t any fairy prince, and you ever come to feel that I’m not too old and too fat—well, I’d like you to know that as far as I’m concerned it would be a deal.”
    Valentine took her elbows off the table and sat up straight.
    â€œWhat does all that mean?”
    â€œWell, my dear, it means that if you ever want Nicholas Barclay, you can have him.”
    A bright and beautiful colour came into her face; her lips parted eagerly.
    â€œAre you proposing to me?”
    â€œWell—”
    â€œLike in a book?”
    â€œThat’s about the size of it,” said Barclay.
    â€œHow lovely! I wish Austin was here! I wish he could hear you doing it! Barclay, will you say it all over again for Austin to hear?”
    Barclay leaned back in his chair and laughed until his eyes almost disappeared.
    â€œWell, I’m blessed!” he said.
    â€œWon’t you?”
    â€œIt’s not done,” said Barclay. “Gosh, kid! How old do you call yourself?”
    Valentine looked offended.
    â€œI’m twenty and a half. And I don’t think you ought to laugh when you’re proposing to me. None of the people in the books do.”
    He pushed back his chair and got up.
    â€œSee here, Val—No, you wouldn’t understand.”
    She looked up at him seriously.
    â€œYes, I would. I’m very intelligent—Edward said so.”
    â€œWell, he hadn’t tried proposing to you, my dear. Would you understand if I told you that I laughed because, if I hadn’t laughed, I might have cried?”
    â€œYou’re too old to cry,” said Valentine decidedly.
    â€œAnd too fat! Gosh! What a fool I am!” He came nearer. “Will you give me a kiss, Val?”
    She sprang from her chair, and was out of reach even as he put out a tentative hand. There was fire in her eyes.
    Barclay looked at her in amazement.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Did you think I’d kiss you against your will?” His voice wasn’t good-natured