was.

Well! He was a sportsman, and had taken the risk. He must wait now. At
the back of his mind he was wondering how he could get out of it.

He had not to wait long. His letters were answered by the first post.
Evidently, the "Bald-faced Stag" had been kept up late that night to
reply in time.

Gladys wrote very respectfully that she was very sorry she hadn't told
him before, but she was privately engaged to the son of the landlord of
the Green Man at Stanmore: the Eldest Son, she wrote with pride (as
though he would inherit the title). She was awfully sorry. Besides, she
was going to be a manicure, first, for two years, and then settle down
at Stanmore. Her fiance was twenty-one. She hoped Mr. Vaughan would come
over to tea very soon, and she thought his letter was very kind, and
remained his truly, Gladys Brill.

Mr. Brill had written a long and slightly rambling letter which
suggested rough copies and even some assistance from the old vintages of
the "Bald-faced Stag." He refused most firmly, though thoroughly
sensible of the honour done him by Mr. Vaughan's offer, but he couldn't
go back on his word to his friend at the Green Man. The arrangement had
been made, when Gladys and the son were in their cradles, by him and
his pal of the Green Man and he couldn't go back on his word. And Gladys
liked the young chap; and it was a great honour, indeed, that Mr.
Vaughan had done them, and it would have been splendid for Gladys in the
worldly sense. But there! it was better, perhaps, not to mix up
Stations. Mr. Brill repeated this sentiment over and over again, always
using a capital S for station--(as though Vaughan had expressed an
insane desire to confuse Victoria with the Great Western). And he
remained very respectfully, Tom Brill.

"A manicure in Bond Street and then the landlady of a common country
inn! Never! She shan't! I'll go down and persuade her. I'll make them
come round."

Vaughan was so hurt and disappointed that he felt he could never smile
again.

But he did.

CHAPTER XXXII

TENSION

When the sisters came back from their drive Harry was sitting on the
little marble terrace reading _Count Florio and Phillis K._ and smoking
cigarettes. With almost conjugal unfairness he complained that Valentia
always went out just before he arrived. In fact, he had begged her to
get the visit over that afternoon, as he intended to be late.

Valentia sat down and began a lively account of "The Angles