"Yes. Well, she's the only girl, in fact--Amaranth's her name. Rather silly, but that's not her fault, is it?" He seemed anxious to forestall criticism.

"You can call her Amy--or even Aimee," suggested the Nun consolingly.

Billy laughed. "Have you heard it, or did you guess, Doris?"

"Guessed it. I can guess any conundrum, however baffling. I'm awfully glad, Billy. I'm sure you'll be tremendously happy. When did it happen--and when is it going to happen?"

"About a month ago--and in about three months' time. Didn't you think her pretty?"

"Very pretty," said the Nun, presuming on a somewhat cursory inspection of Miss Amaranth. "And I suppose that since the old man made his pile--?"

"Oh, well, there are two sons. Still--yes, that's all right."

"It all sounds splendid. I don't fall in love myself, as I've told you--"

"Oh, I know that very well," said Billy. "n.o.body knows it better."

Her eyes danced as she shook her head at him demurely. "But I like to see young people settling down happily."

"You are rather a queer girl in that way, Doris. Never feel that way?"

The Nun considered. "I might go so far as to admit that I've an ideal."

"Rather a silly thing to have in this world, isn't it?"

"Happiness makes you unsympathetic, Billy. There's no harm in an ideal if you're careful to keep it as an ideal. Of course if you try to make it practical there are awful risks."

"And what, or who, is your ideal?"

"'Pray what is that to you?'" the Nun quoted, under the circ.u.mstances rather maliciously. "I find having an ideal a most comfortable arrangement. It doesn't worry either him or me--and Sally can't possibly object to it. How are things at Meriton? Andy wrote me his great news, and of course I never answered. But isn't it splendid?"

"I haven't had time to go down lately."

"Oh, of course not--now!"

"But I hear he's doing magnificently. Sure to get in. But Gilly's the best fun. When Andy is off electioneering, Gilly works like a horse.

Sandwiches in the office for lunch, with a gla.s.s of sherry from the pub round the corner! I caught him at it once; he was awfully disgusted."

"Gilly lunching on sandwiches and a gla.s.s of sherry from the pub!" Her voice was full of wondering amazement.

"Yes, he won't hear the last of that in a hurry! When he did come to lunch the other day, we all went early and had a nice little pile of ham sandwiches and a liqueur gla.s.s of Marsala ready for him when he came in.

You should have seen his face--and not heard his language!" The unnatural brother laughed. "You see, Andy didn't want to stand because of neglecting the business, and Gilly backed himself to take on the work so as not to stand in Andy's way. And he's doing it."

"But that's awfully fine of Gilly, I think."

"So it is, of course. That's why he gets so riled when anybody says anything about it."

The Nun nodded in understanding. "And Harry?" she asked.

"They were abroad or in Scotland all the winter; came back to town about a month ago. They've taken a flat in Clarges Street for the season, I believe."

"Have you been to call on Mrs. Harry Belfield?"

"Well, no, I haven't. I don't know what he wants. I think I'll leave him to begin. It seems to be the same old game with him. One sees him everywhere."

"With her?"

"Sometimes with her. I don't think he's doing anything about another const.i.tuency; seems to have chucked it for the present. But he does appear to be having a very good time in London."

"Is he friendly when you meet?"

"Yes, he's friendly and jolly enough." Billy smiled. "It's true that he's generally in a hurry. When I met him with her once, he was in too much of a hurry to stop!"

"It's very sad, but I'm afraid his memories of us are not those of unmixed pleasure."

"I'm afraid not. Andy says he never goes down to Meriton."

"Well, really I don't very well see how he could--with her!"

"I suppose he and his people have some understanding about it. One's sorry for them, you know."

"I think I shall go down to Meriton again this autumn. Any chance of your being there--as a family man?"

"I've promised to speak for Andy, so we may put in a few days there.

Most of the time I shall have to be preaching to my own flock. I say, will you come and meet Amaranth?"

"Of course I will. But really I think I should make it 'Amy'!"

"It's worth considering; but I don't know how she'll feel about it,"

said Billy cautiously.

"Oh, said in the way you'll say it, it'll sound sweet," remarked the Nun flippantly.

Billy still looked doubtful; perhaps "Amaranth" already sounded sweet.

When left alone, Miss Flower indulged herself for awhile in a reverie of a pensive, hardly melancholy, character--not unpleasant, rather philosophical. Billy Foot's new state was the peg from which it hung, its theme the balance of advantage between the single and the married state. It was in some degree a drawback to the former that other people would embrace the latter. Old coteries were thus broken up; old friendships, if not severed, yet rendered less intimate. New comrades had to be found, not always an easy task. There was a danger of loneliness. On the other hand, there were worse things than loneliness; enforced companionship, where companionship had become distasteful, seemed to her distinctly one of them. Being so very much in another person's hands also was a formidable thing; it involved such a liability to be hurt. The balance thus inclined in favour of the single life, in spite of its liability to loneliness. The Nun gave her adhesion to it, with a mental reservation as to the case of an ideal. And even then--the attempt to make it practical? She shook her head with a little sigh, then smiled. "I wonder if Billy had any idea whom I had in my head!" she thought.

Sally Dutton came in and found her friend in this ruminative mood. Doris roused herself to communicate the news of Billy Foot's engagement. It was received in Sally's usual caustic manner. "Came to tell you about it, did he? I wonder how much he's told her about you!"

"I can't complain if my want of responsiveness hasn't been emphasised, Sally. You couldn't expect him to."

"I've been having a talk with Mrs. Harry Belfield," said Sally, taking off her hat.

This announcement came rather pat on the Nun's reflections. She was interested.

"Well, how is she? What happened?"

"In my opinion it's just another of them," Sally p.r.o.nounced.