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Page 77
"And as straight as a string. No one ever said a word against
Billie."
"No?"
"She may go out to lunch and supper and all that kind of thing, but
there's nothing to that."
"Nothing!" agreed the earl warmly. "Girls must eat!"
"They do. You ought to see them."
"A little harmless relaxation after the fatigue of the day!"
"Exactly. Nothing more."
Lord Marshmoreton felt more drawn than ever to this sensible young
man--sensible, at least, on all points but one. It was a pity they
could not see eye to eye on what was and what was not suitable in
the matter of the love-affairs of the aristocracy.
"So you are a composer, Mr. Bevan?" he said affably.
"Yes."
Lord Marshmoreton gave a little sigh. "It's a long time since I
went to see a musical performance. More than twenty years. When I
was up at Oxford, and for some years afterwards, I was a great
theatre-goer. Never used to miss a first night at the Gaiety. Those
were the days of Nellie Farren and Kate Vaughan. Florence St.
John, too. How excellent she was in Faust Up To Date! But we missed
Nellie Farren. Meyer Lutz was the Gaiety composer then. But a good
deal of water has flowed under the bridge since those days. I don't
suppose you have ever heard of Meyer Lutz?"
"I don't think I have."
"Johnnie Toole was playing a piece called Partners. Not a good
play. And the Yeoman of the Guard had just been produced at the
Savoy. That makes it seem a long time ago, doesn't it? Well, I
mustn't take up all your time. Good-bye, Mr. Bevan. I am glad to
have had the opportunity of this little talk. The Regal Theatre, I
think you said, is where your piece is playing? I shall probably be
going to London shortly. I hope to see it." Lord Marshmoreton rose.
"As regards the other matter, there is no hope of inducing you to
see the matter in the right light?"
"We seem to disagree as to which is the right light."
"Then there is nothing more to be said. I will be perfectly frank
with you, Mr. Bevan. I like you . . ."
"The feeling is quite mutual."
"But I don't want you as a son-in-law. And, dammit," exploded Lord
Marshmoreton, "I won't have you as a son-in-law! Good God! do you
think that you can harry and assault my son Percy in the heart of
Piccadilly and generally make yourself a damned nuisance and then
settle down here without an invitation at my very gates and expect
to be welcomed into the bosom of the family? If I were a young
man . . ."
"I thought we had agreed that you were a young man."
"Don't interrupt me!"
"I only said . . ."
"I heard what you said. Flattery!"
"Nothing of the kind. Truth."
Lord Marshmoreton melted. He smiled. "Young idiot!"
"We agree there all right."
Lord Marshmoreton hesitated. Then with a rush he unbosomed himself,
and made his own position on the matter clear.
"I know what you'll be saying to yourself the moment my back is
turned. You'll be calling me a stage heavy father and an old snob
and a number of other things. Don't interrupt me, dammit! You will,
I tell you! And you'll be wrong. I don't think the Marshmoretons
are fenced off from the rest of the world by some sort of divinity.
My sister does. Percy does. But Percy's an ass! If ever you find
yourself thinking differently from my son Percy, on any subject,
congratulate yourself. You'll be right."
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