"What are you doing here?" he demanded sternly. "You're supposed to be in bed."
"I know. I got up. I want to watch. I've never seen a pete busted before."
"One wishes to keep the women out of this."
"Well, one won't."
"Now I know what the papers mean when they talk about the headstrong modern girl."
"Avid for sensation."
"Avid, as you say, for sensation. Well, it's lucky you're going to get an indulgent husband."
"Am I?"
"I think so. I've got a new system. Where's Augustus?"
"Up in Shorty's room, I suppose."
"Then why aren't you with him, Shorty? Staff work, staff work. We must have staff work."
Lord Shortlands spoke plaintively.
"He told me to go away. I didn't want to, but he said my watching him made him nervous. He seems a very high-strung sort of chap."
"How was he getting on?"
"All right, it seemed to me."
"Well, you had better go and fetch him."
"Can't you?"
"No. I want to have a word with Terry."
Lord Shortlands, on whom the strain was beginning to tell, ran a fevered hand through his grizzled hair, and whispered something about wishing he could have a drink.
This surprised Mike.
"Haven't you had one? Didn't you share Augustus's plenty?"
"He wouldn't let me. He said it was sinful. And when I pressed the point, he threatened to bounce a bottle on my head. I would give," said Lord Shortlands spaciously, "a million pounds for a drink."
"I can do you one cheaper than that," said Mike. "Skim up to my room, feel at the back of the top right-hand drawer of the chest of drawers, and you will find a flask full of what you need. Help yourself and leave twopence on the mantelpiece."
He went to the door and closed it after his rapidly departing host.
"Alone at last," he said.
Terry's gentle heart had been touched by a father's distress.
"Poor old Shorty!"
"Yes."
"He really isn't fit for this sort of thing."
"No."
"His high blood pressure—"
Mike took her gently by the elbow and led her to a chair. He deposited her lovingly in its depths and seated himself on the arm.
"When I said 'Alone at last,' " he explained, "I didn't mean that now was our chance to discuss Shorty's blood pressure. The time to do that will be later on, when we are sitting side by side before the fire in our little home. 'Let's have a long talk about Shorty's blood pressure,' you will say, and I shall reply 'Oh, goody! Yes, let's.' But for the moment there are weightier matters on the agenda paper. When I came into the room just now, I overheard your father make a very pregnant remark."
"Eavesdropping, eh?"
"I see no harm in dropping a few eaves from time to time. People do it behind screens on the stage, and are highly thought of. He was saying 'Why don't you marry the chap, you miserable little fathead?'"
"He didn't call me a fathead."
"He should have done. Was he alluding to me?"
"He was."
"What a pal! How did the subject come up?"
"He had been asking me why I wouldn't marry you."
"Now, there's a thing I've been trying to figure out for weeks, and I believe I've got it. I see you've been reading Percy's Promise. I skimmed through it last night, and it has given me food for thought. It has suggested to me this new system of which I spoke just now. I see now that I have not been handling my wooing the right way."
"No?"
"No. I have been too flip. Amusing, yes. Entertaining, true. But too flip. They did these things better in 1869. Have you got to the part where Lord Percy proposes to the girl in the conservatory?"
"Not yet."
"I will read it to you. Try to imagine that it is I who am speaking, because he puts in beautiful words just what I want to say. Ready?"
"If you are."
"Then here we go. 'It has been with a loving eye, dearest of all girls, that I have watched you grow from infancy to womanhood. I saw how your natural graces developed, and how by the sweetness of your disposition you were possessing yourself of a manner in which I, who have seen courts, must be allowed to pronounce perfect. It is not too much to say that I am asking a gift which any man, of whatever exalted rank, would be proud to have; that there is no position, however lofty, which you would not grace; and that I yield to no one in the resolution to make that home happy which it is in your power to give me. Your slightest wish shall be gratified, your most trifling want shall be anticipated.' How's that?"
"It's good."
"Let's try some more. 'Dearest, you are breaking a heart that beats only for you. I know that I am not one for whom nature has made a royal road to the hearts of women. You would feel for me if you knew the envy with which I regard those who are so favored. If I do not look, if I do not speak as a lover ought to do, it is not, heaven knows, because love is wanting. The pitcher may be full of good wine, but for that very reason it flows with difficulty. It is hard indeed that eloquence should be denied to one who is pleading for his very life. I love you, I love you, I love you. Dearest, can you never love me?' I don't know why he beefed about not being eloquent. Some steam there. How's it coming? Are you moved?"
"Not much."
"Odd. Percy's girl was. It was at that point that he swung the deal. 'You do not answer,' he cried, drawing her close to him, 'but your silence speaks for you as sweetly as any words. May I take my happiness for granted, love? Your cheek is white, but I will change that lily to a rose.' So saying, he pressed his lips to hers and she, with a low, soft cry, half sigh, half sob, returned his kiss. And thus they plighted troth. You can't get around a definite statement like that. Boy got girl. No question about it. But in my case Boy doesn't?"
"No."
"You didn't give a low, soft cry, half sigh, half sob, without my noticing it?"
"No."
"Then I think I see where the trouble lies. Percy, according to the author, had 'a flowing beard,' which he appears to have acquired—honestly, one hopes—at the early age of twenty-four. We shall have to wait till I have a flowing beard. It would seem to be an essential. I'll start growing one tomorrow."
"I wouldn't. Shall I tell you why I'm not moved?"
"It's about time you made some official pronouncement."
"Well... Have you got to sit on the arm of this chair?"
"Not necessarily. I just wanted to be handy, in case the moment arrived for changing that lily to a rose. However, I will move across the way. Now, then."
Terry hesitated.
"Proceed," said Mike encouragingly.
"It's going to sound rather crazy, I'm afraid."
"Never mind. Start gibbering. Why won't you marry me?"
"Well, if you really want to know, because you're too frightfully good-looking."
"Too-what?"
"Too dazzlingly handsome. I told you it was going to sound crazy."
There was a long silence. Mike seemed stunned.
"Crazy?" he said at length. "It's cuckoo. Girls have been slapped into padded cells for less. You wouldn't call me handsome?"
"You're like something out of a super-film. Haven't you noticed it yourself?"
"Never. Just a good, serviceable face, I should have said."
"The face that launched a thousand ships. Go and look in the glass."
Mike did so. He closed one eye, peered intently and shook his head.