"
"Is Wilshaw so badly off?"
"His money is tied up until he is twenty-eight," Sarah explained. "I
think that his father must have known how he was going to turn out.
Jimmy promised that he would never anticipate it, and the dear old thing
keeps his word. We shall be married on his twenty-eighth birthday, all
right, unless his mother does the decent thing before."
"Has she money?" Wingate asked.
"Plenty--but she hasn't much confidence in Jimmy. I think she shows signs
of wavering lately, though. Perhaps his latest idea--he's going into the
City to-morrow, you know--may bring her around.--Mr. Wingate!"
"Well?"
"You're rather a dear old thing, you know," she said, "although you're
so serious."
"And you're quite nice," he admitted, "although you're such an
incorrigible little flirt."
"How do you know?" she laughed. "You never give me a chance of showing
what I can do in that direction."
"Too old, my dear young lady," her host lamented, as he mixed himself a
whisky and soda.
"Rubbish!" she scoffed. "Too much in love with some one else, I believe."
"These are too strenuous days for that sort of thing," he rejoined,
"except for children like you and Mr. Wilshaw."
"I don't know so much about that," she objected. "The world has never
gone so queerly that people haven't remembered to go on loving and be
made love to.
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