of vigour—in my prime. The balance of years should be on the husband’s side. And Eileen has serious tastes—an older man will suit her better than some young jackanapes without either experience or savoir-faire. I can assure you, my dear Caterham, that I will cherish her—er—exquisite youth, I will cherish it—er—it will be appreciated. To watch the exquisite flower of her mind unfolding—what a privilege! And to think that I never realised—”
He shook his head deprecatingly and Lord Caterham, finding his voice with difficulty, said blankly:
“Do I understand you to mean—ah, my dear fellow, you can’t want to marry Bundle?”
“You are surprised. I suppose to you it seems sudden. I have your permission, then, to speak to her?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lord Caterham. “If it’s permission you want—of course you can. But you know, Lomax, I really shouldn’t if I were you. Just go home and think it over like a good fellow. Count twenty. All that sort of thing. Always a pity to propose and make a fool of yourself.”
“I dare say you mean your advice kindly, Caterham, though I must confess that you put it somewhat strangely. But I have made up my mind to put my fortune to the test. I may see Eileen?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to do with me,” said Lord Caterham hastily; “Eileen settles her own affairs. If she came to me tomorrow and said she was going to marry the chauffeur, I shouldn’t make any objections. It’s the only way nowadays. Your children can make life damned unpleasant if you don’t give in to them in every way. I say to Bundle, ‘Do as you like, but don’t worry me,’ and really, on the whole, she is amazingly good about it.”
George stood up, intent upon his purpose.