"Georgie"
the wicket. There was also that insufferable old nuisance, Borricole, who was asked partly because he was expected to leave money to Georgie, and partly because he was able to advise Georgie's mother on the various little financial matters which interested her so much. She had a taste for risky speculation in those days, and I could see, dearly loved to plunge a bit. I am afraid that, like Georgie, she was not quite as wise as she was charming.
Georgie crossed the room, and in mid-flight I caught him.
"What does she say?" I asked softly.
"Who? What do you mean?"
"Why, your mother, Georgie?"
"My mother?" in actual bewilderment as to my meaning. Georgie had always found it fatally easy to shut up his anxieties in the back cupboards of his mind.
"Taffy!" I reminded him curtly.
His glowing face fell.
"Oh, hang it, Martin! You needn't spoil a chap's dinner. Of course I haven't told her yet. How could I?"
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