Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Byng, seated at a table in the corner of theRegent Grill-Room, gazed fondly into each other's eyes. George,seated at the same table, but feeling many miles away, watched themmoodily, fighting to hold off a depression which, cured for a whileby the exhilaration of the ride in Reggie's racing-car (it hadbeaten its previous record for the trip to London by nearly twentyminutes), now threatened to return. The gay scene, the ecstasy ofReggie, the more restrained but equally manifest happiness of hisbride--these things induced melancholy in George. He had not wishedto attend the wedding-lunch, but the happy pair seemed to berevolted at the idea that he should stroll off and get a bite toeat somewhere else.

　　"Stick by us, laddie," Reggie had said pleadingly, "for there ismuch to discuss, and we need the counsel of a man of the world. Weare married all right--""Though it didn't seem legal in that little registrar's office,"put in Alice.

　　"--But that, as the blighters say in books, is but a beginning, notan end. We have now to think out the most tactful way of lettingthe news seep through, as it were, to the mater.""And Lord Marshmoreton," said Alice. "Don't forget he has lost hissecretary.""And Lord Marshmoreton," amended Reggie. "And about a million otherpeople who'll be most frightfully peeved at my doing the WeddingGlide without consulting them. Stick by us, old top. Join oursimple meal. And over the old coronas we will discuss many things."The arrival of a waiter with dishes broke up the silent communionbetween husband and wife, and lowered Reggie to a more earthlyplane. He refilled the glasses from the stout bottle that nestledin the ice-bucket--(" Only this one, dear!" murmured the bride ina warning undertone, and "All right darling!" replied the dutifulgroom)--and raised his own to his lips.

　　"Cheerio! Here's to us all! Maddest, merriest day of all the gladNew year and so forth. And now," he continued, becoming sternlypractical, "about the good old sequel and aftermath, so to speak,of this little binge of ours. What's to be done. You're a brainysort of feller, Bevan, old man, and we look to you for suggestions.

　　How would you set about breaking the news to mother?""Write her a letter," said George.

　　Reggie was profoundly impressed.

　　"Didn't I tell you he would have some devilish shrewd scheme?" hesaid enthusiastically to Alice. "Write her a letter! What could bebetter? Poetry, by Gad!" His face clouded. "But what would you sayin it? That's a pretty knotty point.""Not at all. Be perfectly frank and straightforward. Say you aresorry to go against her wishes--""Wishes," murmured Reggie, scribbling industrially on the back ofthe marriage licence.

　　"--But you know that all she wants is your happiness--"Reggie looked doubtful.

　　"I'm not sure about that last bit, old thing. You don't know themater!""Never mind, Reggie," put in Alice. "Say it, anyhow. Mr. Bevan isperfectly right.""Right ho, darling! All right, laddie--'happiness'. And then?""Point out in a few well-chosen sentences how charming Mrs. Byngis . . .""Mrs. Byng!" Reggie smiled fatuously. "I don't think I ever heardanything that sounded so indescribably ripping. That part'll beeasy enough. Besides, the mater knows Alice.""Lady Caroline has seen me at the castle," said his bridedoubtfully, "but I shouldn't say she knows me. She has hardlyspoken a dozen words to me.""There," said Reggie, earnestly, "you're in luck, dear heart! Themater's a great speaker, especially in moments of excitement. I'mnot looking forward to the time when she starts on me. Betweenourselves, laddie, and meaning no disrespect to the dear soul, whenthe mater is moved and begins to talk, she uses up most of thelanguage.""Outspoken, is she?""I should hate to meet the person who could out-speak her," saidReggie.

　　George sought information on a delicate point.

　　"And financially? Does she exercise any authority over you in thatway?""You mean has the mater the first call on the family doubloons?"said Reggie. "Oh, absolutely not! You see, when I call her themater, it's using the word in a loose sense, so to speak. She's mystep-mother really. She has her own little collection of pieces ofeight, and I have mine. That part's simple enough.""Then the whole thing is simple. I don't see what you've beenworrying about.""Just what I keep telling him, Mr. Bevan," said Alice.

　　"You're a perfectly free agent. She has no hold on you of anykind."Reggie Byng blinked dizzily.

　　"Why, now you put it like that," he exclaimed, "I can see that Ijolly well am! It's an amazing thing, you know, habit and all that.

　　I've been so accustomed for years to jumping through hoops andshamming dead when the mater lifted a little finger, that itabsolutely never occurred to me that I had a soul of my own. I giveyou my honest word I never saw it till this moment.""And now it's too late!""Eh?"George indicated Alice with a gesture. The newly-made Mrs. Byngsmiled.

　　"Mr. Bevan means that now you've got to jump through hoops and shamdead when I lift a little finger!"Reggie raised her hand to his lips, and nibbled at it gently.

　　"Blessums 'ittle finger! It shall lift it and have 'ums Reggiejumping through. . . ." He broke off and tendered George a manlyapology. "Sorry, old top! Forgot myself for the moment. Shan'toccur again! Have another chicken or an eclair or some soup orsomething!"Over the cigars Reggie became expansive.

　　"Now that you've lifted the frightful weight of the mater off mymind, dear old lad," he said, puffing luxuriously, "I find myselfsurveying the future in a calmer spirit. It seems to me that thebest thing to do, as regards the mater and everybody else, issimply to prolong the merry wedding-trip till Time the Great Healerhas had a chance to cure the wound. Alice wants to put in a week orso in Paris. . . .""Paris!" murmured the bride ecstatically.

　　"Then I would like to trickle southwards to the Riviera. . .""If you mean Monte Carlo, dear," said his wife with gentlefirmness, "no!""No, no, not Monte Carlo," said Reggie hastily, "though it's agreat place. Air--scenery--and what not! But Nice and Bordigheraand Mentone and other fairly ripe resorts. You'd enjoy them. Andafter that . . . I had a scheme for buying back my yacht, the jollyold Siren, and cruising about the Mediterranean for a month or so. Isold her to a local sportsman when I was in America a couple ofyears ago. But I saw in the paper yesterday that the poor oldbuffer had died suddenly, so I suppose it would be difficult to gethold of her for the time being." Reggie broke off with a sharpexclamation.

　　"My sainted aunt!""What's the matter?"Both his companions were looking past him, wide-eyed. Georgeoccupied the chair that had its back to the door, and was unable tosee what it was that had caused their consternation; but he deducedthat someone known to both of them must have entered therestaurant; and his first thought, perhaps naturally, was that itmust be Reggie's "mater". Reggie dived behind a menu, which he heldbefore him like a shield, and his bride, after one quick look, hadturned away so that her face was hidden. George swung around, butthe newcomer, whoever he or she was, was now seated andindistinguishable from the rest of the lunchers.

　　"Who is it?"Reggie laid down the menu with the air of one who after a momentarypanic rallies.

　　"Don't know what I'm making such a fuss about," he said stoutly. "Ikeep forgetting that none of these blighters really matter in thescheme of things. I've a good mind to go over and pass the time ofday.""Don't!" pleaded his wife. "I feel so guilty.""Who is it?" asked George again. "Your step-mother?""Great Scott, no!" said Reggie. "Nothing so bad as that. It's oldMarshmoreton.""Lord Marshmoreton!""Absolutely! And looking positively festive.""I feel so awful, Mr. Bevan," said Alice. "You know, I left thecastle without a word to anyone, and he doesn't know yet that therewon't be any secretary waiting for him when he gets back."Reggie took another look over George's shoulder and chuckled.

　　"It's all right, darling. Don't worry. We can nip off secretly bythe other door. He's not going to stop us. He's got a girl withhim! The old boy has come to life--absolutely! He's gassing awaysixteen to the dozen to a frightfully pretty girl with gold hair.

　　If you slew the old bean round at an angle of about forty-five,Bevan, old top, you can see her. Take a look. He won't see you.

　　He's got his back to us.""Do you call her pretty?" asked Alice disparagingly.

　　"Now that I take a good look, precious," replied Reggie withalacrity, "no! Absolutely not! Not my style at all!"His wife crumbled bread.

　　"I think she must know you, Reggie dear," she said softly. "She'swaving to you.""She's waving to ME," said George, bringing back the sunshine toReggie's life, and causing the latter's face to lose its huntedlook. "I know her very well. Her name's Dore. Billie Dore.""Old man," said Reggie, "be a good fellow and slide over to theirtable and cover our retreat. I know there's nothing to be afraid ofreally, but I simply can't face the old boy.""And break the news to him that I've gone, Mr. Bevan," added Alice.

　　"Very well, I'll say good-bye, then.""Good-bye, Mr. Bevan, and thank you ever so much."Reggie shook George's hand warmly.

　　"Good-bye, Bevan old thing, you're a ripper. I can't tell you howbucked up I am at the sportsmanlike way you've rallied round. I'lldo the same for you one of these days. Just hold the old boy inplay for a minute or two while we leg it. And, if he wants us, tellhim our address till further notice is Paris. What ho! What ho!

　　What ho! Toodle-oo, laddie, toodle-oo!"George threaded his way across the room. Billie Dore welcomed himwith a friendly smile. The earl, who had turned to observe hisprogress, seemed less delighted to see him. His weather-beaten facewore an almost furtive look. He reminded George of a schoolboy whohas been caught in some breach of the law.

　　"Fancy seeing you here, George!" said Billie. "We're alwaysmeeting, aren't we? How did you come to separate yourself from thepigs and chickens? I thought you were never going to leave them.""I had to run up on business," explained George. "How are you, LordMarshmoreton?"The earl nodded briefly.

　　"So you're on to him, too?" said Billie. "When did you get wise?""Lord Marshmoreton was kind enough to call on me the other morningand drop the incognito.""Isn't dadda the foxiest old thing!" said Billie delightedly.

　　"Imagine him standing there that day in the garden, kidding usalong like that! I tell you, when they brought me his card lastnight after the first act and I went down to take a slant at thisLord Marshmoreton and found dadda hanging round the stage door, youcould have knocked me over with a whisk-broom.""I have not stood at the stage-door for twenty-five years," saidLord Marshmoreton sadly.

　　"Now, it's no use your pulling that Henry W. Methuselah stuff,"said Billie affectionately. "You can't get away with it. Anyonecan see you're just a kid. Can't they, George?" She indicated theblushing earl with a wave of the hand. "Isn't dadda the youngestthing that ever happened?""Exactly what I told him myself."Lord Marshmoreton giggled. There is no other verb that describesthe sound that proceeded from him.

　　"I feel young," he admitted.

　　"I wish some of the juveniles in the shows I've been in," saidBillie, "were as young as you. It's getting so nowadays that one'sthankful if a juvenile has teeth." She glanced across the room.

　　"Your pals are walking out on you, George. The people you werelunching with," she explained. "They're leaving.""That's all right. I said good-bye to them." He looked at LordMarshmoreton. It seemed a suitable opportunity to break the news.

　　"I was lunching with Mr. and Mrs. Byng," he said.

　　Nothing appeared to stir beneath Lord Marshmoreton's tannedforehead.

　　"Reggie Byng and his wife, Lord Marshmoreton," a............