‘She looks all right, considering,’ said Noel. He felt even more stupid than usual, having sat up with Jasper until five o’clock that morning talking about love.
‘Considering what?’
‘Considering she has scarlet-fever.’
‘Scarlet-fever my bottom. Try and pull yourself together old boy. How can I help you if you won’t help yourself at all? Could you listen to me intelligently for a few minutes, all this is really most interesting from our point of view. You see what has obviously happened – either she can’t take the Duke or the Duke can’t take her (doesn’t matter which) so they decided, or she decided off her own bat, that the only way to break it off at the eleventh hour would be for her to have some illness with a long quarantine. Good. The interesting part from our point of view is this – next, possibly, to Eugenia Malmains, Lady Marjorie Merrith (Miss Jones) is the greatest heiress in England. I believe it’s something fabulous how rich she is. Now here are we, two old bums, with two enormous fortunes dangling in front of our noses. Ours for the asking and God knows we need ’em.’
‘What makes you suppose they are ours for the asking?’
‘In the case of Eugenia I should have thought it was obvious. She would marry anybody to get away from T.P.O.F. In the case of Lady M. we have a powerful ally in the Rebound. Fantastic what a girl will do on the Rebound. But what I want you to understand now is that we must sketch out a plan of action – it’s no good both going for both, that would only end in neither getting either. So we must choose which we want. Now I thought of giving you first choice on condition that you go on financing this racket.’
‘I absolutely refuse to lend you another penny, if that’s what you’re driving at.’
Jasper sighed. ‘If you don’t,’ he said, reluctantly, ‘I shall be forced to stay on here insolvent, which would be awkward for you under the circumstances, and make a pass at Mrs Lace.’
Noel saw the force of this argument. Jasper had, before now, broken up many a happy love affair. ‘As a matter of fact old boy,’ he said, in a conciliatory tone of voice, ‘I was only joking. I like to have you here, it would be awfully dull all alone.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jasper, ‘just choose your girl then will you? I’m rather anxious to get on with the work in hand.’
‘My head aches,’ said Noel. ‘Let me go to sleep again please.’
‘You can, as soon as you’ve chosen. Now, think well, I can’t have you changing your mind about this later. Eugenia is richer, more beautiful and madder, Miss Jones is better dressed, more presentable and I should say on the whole lousier. Which will you have?’
‘You don’t seem to remember that I’m in love already,’ said Noel with simple dignity.
‘Oh, cut it out. I’m fearfully in love myself. Do you suppose I am going to let that stand in my way? Not likely. There are times, my dear old boy, when love has got to take its proper place as an unethical and anti-social emotion, and this is one of them. Come on, now choose?’
‘I will have Eugenia,’ Noel muttered into his bed-clothes, ‘anything for a quiet life.’
‘A quiet life is the last thing you are likely to enjoy with that girl, still have it your own way of course. I shall now go and tee myself up “très snob pour le sport” and pursue the elusive Lady Marjorie. I wonder if she’s about yet – never knew a girl to be so bedridden, goes to bed early, gets up late, and lies down most of the day with her face greased.’
Noel called out after him that he did not want any luncheon, and once more composed himself for sleep.
Ten minutes later Jasper, contrary to all his plans, was kissing Miss Smith at the bottom of the garden.
‘Darling Miss Smith,’ he said, ‘do you know that I’m madly in love with you?’
‘Darling Mr Aspect, are you really? I call that sweet of you.’
‘Darling Miss Smith, could one be told who you are?’
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Because it happens to interest me.’
‘Well, I’m a lot of different things. At the present time I seem to be just a confidante.’
‘To Lady Marjorie?’
‘Oh! you know that now, do you? Yes, I’m her confidante. When Marge goes mad in white satin with flowers in her hair, I go mad in white linen with straws in my hair (literary allusion), that’s what we’re up to at the present moment.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Who is your husband?’
‘He’s called Anthony St Julien, I’m called Poppy St Julien. Call me Poppy if you want to.’
‘Thanks, you’re Miss Smith to me though. Where is Anthony St Julien now?’
‘Having a cocktail somewhere before lunch I should guess.’
‘Does he know that Poppy St Julien has been kissing Jasper Aspect under a willow tree, so early in the morning?’
‘He does not. Nor, if he did, would he care,’ said Mrs St Julien.
‘Good heavens, is the man an eel? Now tell me all about the heroine.’
‘She’s just a heroine you know.’
‘In what way so heroic?’
‘I mean, she’s not ordinary like you and me. One must either regard her as a monstrosity of selfishness or else as a heroine. To
