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private
affairs to a man who would probably spread them far and near, but she felt that
the girl’s reputation for sanity should be protected.
    ‘Myra
is rather depressed just now. She has had an unfortunate love affair.’
    This
interested the Duke. He had always been as inquisitive as a cat. He blew his
moustache up against his nose and allowed his eyes to protrude.
    ‘What
happened? Feller walk out on her?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘She walk
out on him?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well,
somebody must have walked out on someone.’
    Lady
Constance felt that having said so much she might as well tell all. The
alternative was to have the man stand there asking questions for the rest of
the morning, and she wanted to finish her letter.
    ‘I put
a stop to the thing,’ she said curtly.
    The
Duke gave his moustache a puff.
    ‘You
did? Why? None of your ruddy business, was it?’
    ‘Of
course it was. When James Schoonmaker went back to America, he left her in my
charge. I was responsible for her. So when I found that she had become involved
with this man, there was only one thing to do, take her away to Blandings, out
of his reach. He has no money, no prospects, nothing. James would never forgive
me if she married him.’
    ‘Ever
seen the chap?’
    ‘No.
And I don’t want to.’
    ‘Probably
a frightful bounder who drops his aitches and has ‘cocoa and bloaters for
supper.’
    ‘No,
according to Myra, he was at Harrow and Oxford.’
    ‘That
damns him,’ said the Duke, who had been at Eton and Cambridge. ‘All Harrovians
are the scum of the earth, and Oxonians are even worse. Very wise of you to
remove her from his clutches.’
    ‘So I
thought.’
    ‘That’s
why she slinks about the place like a funeral mute, is it? You ought to divert
her mind from the fellow, get her interested in somebody else.’
    ‘The
same idea occurred to me. I’ve invited Archie to the castle.’
    ‘Archie
who?’
    ‘Your
nephew Archie.’
    ‘Oh, my
God! That poop?’
    ‘He is
not a poop at all. He’s very good-looking and very charming.’
    ‘Who
did he ever charm? Not me.’
    ‘Well,
I am hoping he will charm her. I’m a great believer in propinquity.’
    The
Duke was not at his best with long words, but he thought he saw what she was
driving at.
    ‘You
mean if he digs in here, he may cut this bloater-eating blighter out? Girl’s
father’s a millionaire, isn’t he?’
    ‘Several
times over, I believe.’
    ‘Then
tell young Archie to get after the wench with all speed,’ said the Duke
enthusiastically. His nephew was employed by the Mammoth Publishing Company,
that vast concern which supplies the more fatheaded of England’s millions with
their daily, weekly and monthly reading matter, but in so minor a capacity that
he, the Duke, was still obliged to supplement his salary with an allowance.
And if there was one thing that parsimonious man disliked, it was supplementing
people’s salaries with allowances. The prospect of getting the boy off his
payroll was a glittering one, and his eyes bulged brightly as he envisaged it. ‘Tell
him to spare no effort,’ he urged. ‘Tell him to pull up his socks and leave no
stone unturned. Tell him —Oh, hell! Come in, curse you.’
    There
had been a knock at the door. Lavender Briggs’ entered, all spectacles and
efficiency.
    ‘I
found Lord Emsworth, Lady Constance, and told him the car was in readiness.’
    ‘Oh,
thank you, Miss Briggs. Where was he?’
    ‘Down
at the sty. Would there be anything furthah?’
    ‘No
thank you, Miss Briggs.’
    As the
door closed, the Duke exploded with a loud report. ‘Down at the sty!’ he cried.
‘Wouldn’t you have known it! Whenever you want him, he’s down at the sty,
gazing at that pig of his, absorbed, like somebody watching a strip-tease act. It’s
a not wholesome for a man to worship a pig the way he does. Isn’t there
something in the Bible about the Israelites worshipping a pig? No, it was a
golden calf, but the principle’s the same. I tell