CHAPTER VIII
THE HEIRESS INDISPOSED
RICHARD, I require moral courage," said Drewitt, lazily, as he crumpled up into a basket-chair, which squeaked protestingly beneath his weight, "and if the funds will run to it, a whisky-and-soda."
Beresford beckoned to the waiter and gave the order. Hoskins had telephoned earlier in the day to say that Drewitt would be calling at the Ritz-Carlton about nine.
"I'm bound for the Aunt's," continued Drewitt a few minutes later, when, fortified by the whisky-and-soda, he proceeded to light a cigarette. "There we shall meet the latest aspirant to my hand and what might be called 'the trimmings.'"
"Lola Craven?"
"The same. Incidentally you accompany me. It has been said, I believe, that romance brought up the nine-fifteen. We shall in all probability be a few minutes late."
"But why on earth do you want me? I haven't been invited."
"It's a dinner-party, Richard, and the Aunt never desires poor relations at dinner-parties. At a crush,
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