Architects -- Fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- England -- Fiction
"Madam, they shall see their uncle," Lucas answered. At any rate his
agreeable voice had not coarsened. He turned to George: "What d'you
think of it, George?"
"My boy, I'm proud of you," said George. In his tennis-flannels he felt
like one who has arrived at an evening party in morning-dress. And
indeed he was proud of Lucas. Something profound and ingenuous in him
rose into his eyes and caused them to shine.
Lucas related his adventures with the tailor and other purveyors, and
explained that he had to 'join his regiment' the next day, but would be
able to remain in London for the present. George questioned him about
his business affairs.
"No difficulty about that whatever!" said Lucas lightly. "The old firm
will carry on as usual; Enwright and Orgreave will have to manage it
between them; and of course they wouldn't dream of trying to cut off the
spondulicks. Not that I should let that stop me if they did."
"Yes, it's all very well for _you_ to talk like that!" said Lois, with a
swift change of tone. "You've got partners to do your work for you, and
you've got money.... Have you written to mother, Laurencine?"
George objected to his wife making excuses. His gaze faltered.
"Of course, darling!" Laurencine answered eagerly, agreeing with her
sister's differentiation between George and Everard. "No, not yet. But
I'm going to to-night. Everard, we ought to be off."
"I've got a taxi outside," said Lucas.
"A taxi?" she repeated in a disappointed tone. And then, as an
afterthought: "Well, I have to call at Debenham's."
The fact was that Laurencine wanted to be seen walking with her military
officer in some well-frequented thoroughfare. They lived at Hampstead.
Lois rang the bell.
"Ask nurse to bring the children down, please--at once," she told the
parlourmaid.
"So this is the new tea-gown, if I mistake not!" observed Lucas in the
pause. "_Très chic_! I suppose Laurencine's told you all about the
chauffeur being run off with against his will by a passionate virgin.
_I_ couldn't start the car this morning myself."
"You never could start a car by yourself, my boy," said George. "What's
this about the passionate virgin?"
V
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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