planning and plotting over the idea that she should make a match with Paul?"
"At one time, my dear Tony?" Rose exclaimed. "There's exactly as much as ever, and I'm already—in these mere three weeks—in the very thick of it! Did you think the question had been quite dropped?" she inquired.
Tony faced her serenely enough—in part because he felt the extreme importance of so doing. "I simply haven't heard much about it. Mrs. Beever used to talk about it. But she hasn't talked of late."
"She talked, my good man, no more than half an hour ago!" Rose replied.
Tony winced; but he stood bravely up; his cigarettes were an extreme resource. "Really? And what did she say to you?"
"She said nothing to me—but she said everything to her son. She said to him, I mean, that she'll never forgive him if she doesn't hear from him an hour or two hence that he has at last successfully availed himself, with Miss Martle, of this auspicious day, as well as of the fact that he's giving her, in honour of it, something remarkably beautiful."
