Uncle Chris confronted Freddie sternly outside the front door.
“What does this mean? Good God, Freddie, have you no delicacy”
“Why are you bringing Underhill to this party? Don't you realize that poor Jill will be there? How do you suppose she will feel when she sees that blackguard again? The cad who threw her over and nearly broke her heart!”
Freddie's jaw fell. He groped for his fallen eyeglass.
“Oh, my aunt! Do you think she will be pipped?”
“But, listen. Derek wants to marry her.”
“Oh, absolutely. That's why he's come over.”
“I don't understand this. I saw the letter myself which he wrote to her, breaking off the engagement.”
“Yes, but he's dashed sorry about all that now. Wishes he had never been such a mug, and all that sort of thing. As a matter of fact, that's why I shot over here in the first place. As an ambassador, don't you know. I told Jill all about it directly I saw her, but she seemed inclined to give it a miss rather, so I cabled old Derek to pop here in person. Seemed to me, don't you know, that Jill might be more likely to make it up and all that if she saw old Derek.”
Uncle Chris nodded, his composure restored.
“Very true. Yes, certainly, my boy, you acted most sensibly. Badly as Underhill behaved, she undoubtedly loved him. It would be the best possible thing that could happen if they could be brought together. It is my dearest wish to see Jill comfortably settled. I was half hoping that she might marry young Pilkington.”
“He is quite a nice young fellow,” argued Uncle Chris. “None too many brains, perhaps, but Jill would supply that deficiency. Still, of course, Underhill would be much better.”
“She ought to marry someone,” said Freddie earnestly. “I mean, all rot a girl like Jill having to knock about and rough it like this.”
“Of course,” said Freddie thoughtfully, “the catch in the whole dashed business is that she's such a bally independent sort of girl. I mean to say, it's quite possible she may hand Derek the mitten, you know.”
“In that case, let us hope that she will look more favorably on young Pilkington.”
“Yes,” said Freddie. “Well, yes. But—well, I wouldn't call the Pilker a very ripe sporting proposition. About sixty to one against is the way I should figure it, if I were making a book. It may be just because I'm feeling a bit pipped this morning—got turfed out of bed at seven o'clock and all that—but I have an idea that she may give both of them the old razz. May be wrong, of course.”
“Let us hope that you are, my boy,” said Uncle Chris gravely. “For in that case I should be forced into a course of action from which I confess that I shrink.”
“Freddie, my boy, you are a very old friend of Jill's and I am her uncle. I feel that I can speak plainly to you. Jill is the dearest thing to me in the world. She trusted me, and I failed her. I was responsible for the loss of her money, and my one object in life is to see her by some means or other in a position equal to the one of which I deprived her. If she marries a rich man, well and good. That, provided she marries him because she is fond of him, will be the very best thing that can happen. But if she does not there is another way. It may be possible for me to marry a rich woman.”
“Good God! You don't mean — you aren't thinking of marrying Mrs Peagrim!”
“I wouldn't have mentioned names, but, as you have guessed — Yes, if the worst comes to the worst, I shall make the supreme sacrifice. Tonight will decide. Goodbye, my boy. I want to look in at my club for a few minutes. Tell Underhill that he has my best wishes.”
