THE AWKWARD AGE
the proof? What I meant to say just now was that I wouldn't—at least I hope I shouldn't—have named her as I did save to an old friend."
Mr. Longdon looked promptly satisfied and reassured. "You probably heard me address her myself."
"I did, but you have your rights, and that wouldn't excuse me. The only thing is that I go to see her every Sunday."
Mr. Longdon pondered; then, a little to Vanderbank's surprise, at any rate to his deeper amusement, candidly asked: "Only Fernanda? No other lady?"
"Oh yes, several other ladies."
Mr. Longdon appeared to hear this with pleasure. "You're quite right. We don't make enough of Sunday at Beccles."
"Oh, we make plenty of it in London!" Vanderbank said. "And I think it's rather in my interest I should mention that Mrs. Brookenham calls me—"
His visitor covered him now with an attention that just operated as a check. "By your Christian name?" Before Vanderbank could in any degree attenuate, "What is your Christian name?" Mr. Longdon asked.
Vanderbank felt, of a sudden, almost guilty—as if his answer could only impute extravagance to the lady. "My Christian name"—he blushed it out—"is Gustavus."
His friend took a droll, conscious leap. "And she calls you Gussy?"
"No, not even Gussy. But I scarcely think I ought to tell you," he pursued, "if she herself gave you no glimpse of the fact. Any implication that she consciously avoided it might make you see deeper depths."
Vanderbank spoke with pointed levity, but his companion showed him, after an instant, a face just covered—and a little painfully—with the vision of the possibility brushed away by the joke. "Oh, I'm not so bad as that!" Mr. Longdon modestly ejaculated.
12
