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Page 27
"I like the way you stand up for Freddie. So many men in your
position might say horrid things about him."
"Oh, I've nothing against Freddie. He is practically an imbecile
and I don't like his face; outside of that he's all right. But
you will be glad later that you did not marry him. You are much
too real a person. What a wife you will make for a hard-working
man!"
"What does Freddie work hard at?"
"I am alluding at the moment not to Freddie but to myself. I
shall come home tired out. Maybe things will have gone wrong
downtown. I shall be fagged, disheartened. And then you will come
with your cool, white hands and, placing them gently on my
forehead--"
Aline shook her head. "It's no good, George. Really, you had
better realize it. I'm very fond of you, but we are not suited!"
"Why not?"
"You are too overwhelming--too much like a bomb. I think you must
be one of the supermen one reads about. You would want your own
way and nothing but your own way. Now, Freddie will roll through
hoops and sham dead, and we shall be the happiest pair in the
world. I am much too placid and mild to make you happy. You want
somebody who would stand up to you--somebody like Joan
Valentine."
"That's the second time you have mentioned this Joan Valentine.
Who is she?"
"She is a girl who was at school with me. We were the greatest
chums--at least, I worshiped her and would have done anything for
her; and I think she liked me. Then we lost touch with one
another and didn't meet for years. I met her on the street
yesterday, and she is just the same. She has been through the
most awful times. Her father was quite rich; he died suddenly
while he and Joan were in Paris, and she found that he hadn't
left a cent. He had been living right up to his income all the
time. His life wasn't even insured. She came to London; and, so
far as I could make out from the short talk we had, she has done
pretty nearly everything since we last met. She worked in a shop
and went on the stage, and all sorts of things. Isn't it awful,
George!"
"Pretty tough," said Emerson. He was but faintly interested in
Miss Valentine.
"She is so plucky and full of life. She would stand up to you."
"Thanks! My idea of marriage is not a perpetual scrap. My notion
of a wife is something cozy and sympathetic and soothing. That
is why I love you. We shall be the happiest--"
Aline laughed.
"Dear old George! Now pay the check and get me a taxi. I've
endless things to do at home. If Freddie is in town I suppose he
will be calling to see me. Who is Freddie, do you ask? Freddie is
my fiance, George. My betrothed. My steady. The young man I'm
going to marry."
Emerson shook his head resignedly. "Curious how you cling to that
Freddie idea. Never mind! I'll come down to Blandings on Friday
and we shall see what happens. Bear in mind the broad fact that
you and I are going to be married, and that nothing on earth is
going to stop us."
* * *
It was Aline Peters who had to bear the brunt of her father's
mental agony when he discovered, shortly after Lord Emsworth had
left him, that the gem of his collection of scarabs had done the
same. It is always the innocent bystander who suffers.
"The darned old sneak thief!" said Mr. Peters.
"Father!"
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