had an importance. What that episode was had escaped him. He
dismissed the thing from his mind. It was not worth harrying his
memory about.
Judicious tipping secured the three a compartment to themselves.
Hargate, having read the evening paper, went to sleep in the far
corner. Jimmy and Lord Dreever, who sat opposite each other, fell
into a desultory conversation.
After awhile, Lord Dreever's remarks took a somewhat intimate turn.
Jimmy was one of those men whose manner invites confidences. His
lordship began to unburden his soul of certain facts relating to the
family.
'Have you ever met my Uncle Thomas?' he inquired. 'You know Blunt's
Stores? Well, he's Blunt. It's a company now, but he still runs it.
He married my aunt. You'll meet him at Dreever.'
Jimmy said he would be delighted.
'I bet you won't,' said the last of the Dreevers, with candor. 'He's
a frightful man--the limit. Always fussing round like a hen. Gives
me a fearful time, I can. tell you. Look here, I don't mind telling
you--we're pals--he's dead set on my marrying a rich girl.'
'Well, that sounds all right. There are worse hobbies. Any
particular rich girl?'
'There's always one. He sicks me on to one after another. Quite nice
girls, you know, some of them; only, I want to marry somebody else,
that girl you saw me with at the Savoy.'
'Why don't you tell your uncle?'
'He'd have a fit. She hasn't a penny; nor have I, except what I get
from him. Of course, this is strictly between ourselves.'
'Of course.'
'I know everybody thinks there's money attached to the title; but
there isn't, not a penny. When my Aunt Julia married Sir Thomas, the
whole frightful show was pretty well in pawn. So, you see how it
is.'
'Ever think of work?' asked Jimmy.
'Work?' said Lord Dreever, reflectively. 'Well, you know, I
shouldn't mind work, only I'm dashed if I can see what I could do. I
shouldn't know how. Nowadays, you want a fearful specialized
education, and so on. Tell you what, though, I shouldn't mind the
diplomatic service. One of these days, I shall have a dash at asking
my uncle to put up the money. I believe I shouldn't be half-bad at
that. I'm rather a quick sort of chap at times, you know. Lots of
fellows have said so.'
He cleared his throat modestly, and proceeded.
'It isn't only my Uncle Thomas,' he said. 'There's Aunt Julia, too.
She's about as much the limit as he is. I remember, when I was a
kid, she was always sitting on me. She does still. Wait till you see
her. Sort of woman who makes you feel that your hands are the color
of tomatoes and the size of legs of mutton, if you know what I mean.
And talks as if she were biting at you. Frightful!'
Having unburdened himself of these criticisms, Lord Dreever yawned,
leaned back, and was presently asleep.
