“ I don’t like him at all,” said Aunt Agatha. “I never did.”

Ghastly, what? I’d always had an idea that marriage was a bit of a washout, but I’d never dreamed that it demanded such frightful sacrifices from a fellow. I passed the rest of the meal in a sort of stupor.

The scheme had been, if I remember, that after lunch I should go off and caddy for Honoria on a shopping tour down Regent Street; but when she got up and started collecting me and the rest of her things, Aunt Agatha stopped her.

“You run along, dear,” she said. “I want to say a few words to Bertie.”

So Honoria legged it, and Aunt Agatha drew up her chair and started in.

“Bertie,” she said, “dear Honoria does not know it, but a little difficulty has arisen about your marriage.”