An unfortunate love affair, in Lady Caterham’s opinion, was often highly beneficial to young girls. It made them take life seriously.
“I don’t suppose George Lomax realises for a moment that you have—shall we say, grown up? Eileen dear,” she said, “I must have a few words with him.”
“He doesn’t like me,” said Bundle. “I know he won’t ask me.”
“Nonsense,” said Lady Caterham. “I shall make a point of it. I knew George Lomax when he was so high.” She indicated a quite impossible height. “He will be only too pleased to do me a favour. And he will be sure to see for himself that it is vitally important that the present-day young girls of our own class should take an intelligent interest in the welfare of their country.”
Bundle nearly said: “Hear, hear,” but checked herself.
“I will find you some literature now,” said Lady Caterham, rising.
She called in a piercing voice: “Miss Connor.”
A very neat secretary with a frightened expression came running. Lady Caterham gave her various directions. Presently Bundle was driving back to Brook Street with an armful of the driest-looking literature imaginable.
Her next proceeding was to ring up Jimmy Thesiger. His first words were full of triumph.
“I’ve managed it,” he said. “Had a lot of trouble with Bill, though. He’d got it into his thick head that I should be a lamb among wolves. But I made him see sense at last. I’ve got a lot of thingummybobs now and I’m studying them. You know, blue books and white papers. Deadly dull—but one must do the thing properly. Have you ever heard of the Santa Fe boundary dispute?”