A Knight on Wheels Part 47

"Mr. Falconer sends his compliments, miss," she announced deferentially, "and would be very much obliged if you could say whether you wanted him particular, because he is painting a picture."

Jean Leslie smiled. She was wondering what Montagu really had said. But to the maid she merely replied:--

"Is the model there?"

"No, miss. Models go at five."

"Then say to Mr. Falconer that I should be greatly obliged if he could see me for a few minutes, as I wish to consult him upon an important matter."

When the maid had departed, Miss Leslie rose and walked to the window, through which the afternoon sun was s.h.i.+ning. Peggy's tastes rather leaned to rose-coloured curtains and silk blinds. Jean Leslie arranged these to her liking. Then, having adjusted her hat to the proper angle, she sat down with her back to the light, and waited.

Presently Montagu entered.

"Well, Jean," he said affably,--he was flattered by his new rule of consultant,--"you are looking very smart to-day."

"This testimonial is most gratifying," said Miss Leslie. "Do you like my furs?"

Montagu surveyed her critically. He had a real eye for form and tone; and he nodded approval.

"Yes," he said; "they suit you perfectly. And that bunch of violets adds just the right touch of subdued colour."

"Thank you," said Miss Leslie meekly.

Montagu sat down on the other side of the hearth.

"However," he said importantly, "I believe I am correct in supposing that you did not come here to show me your clothes." (In this he was not so correct as he thought.) "I understand you wish to have my opinion on some matter."

"Yes," said Miss Leslie. "It is a matter which I could confide to no one but a very old and very trustworthy friend."

"Quite so, quite so," said Montagu, much gratified, but a little staggered. For the last twenty years he had rarely encountered the lady before him for more than five minutes without becoming embroiled with her in a skirmish of some description; and pitched battles had been not infrequent.

"I want to ask what you _think_, Montagu," continued Miss Leslie. "You are one of the few people I know whom I would describe as a true man of the world."

Montagu Falconer began to purr gently.

"Possibly," he said--"possibly! Well?"

"The fact is," confessed Miss Leslie, after a momentary hesitation, "I have received an offer of marriage."

"Good G.o.d!" exclaimed Montagu. "Who is the"--he was about to say "idiot," but corrected himself--"gentleman?"

"His name," said Miss Leslie, casting down her eyes, "is Adolphus Prince. I have known him for many years."

"Extraordinary name! Is he old or young?"

Miss Leslie considered.

"He is about fifty," she said.

"Rather elderly," commented Montagu Falconer, who was only forty-eight.

"How old are you, by the way?"

"Forty-two," said Miss Leslie coyly.

"I am bound to say, Jean," remarked Montagu handsomely, "that you don't look it. Now, what of this fellow? Is he a gentleman?"

"I hope so," said Miss Leslie humbly.

"But are you _sure_? You dear women, Jean, if I may say so, are too apt to be carried away by your feelings. What is his station--his position?"

"He is a retired colonel of militia," replied Miss Leslie. (This statement would have surprised Timothy, who would have it that his rival was a superannuated tea-taster.) "He has lived a great deal in India, and is now quite alone in the world."

"I see. One leg and no liver, I presume!" said Montagu facetiously.

Miss Leslie laughed appreciatively.

"You are as caustic as ever, Montagu," she said. "You spare none of us.

But what do you think I should do? I am a solitary woman. It is a dreich business, living by one's self, is it not?"

"It is, it is," agreed Montagu, lapsing straightway into self-pity. "Too true! Believe me, Jean, I know what it means, better than most."

"Still, you are not entirely alone," Miss Leslie reminded him. "You have Peggy."

"It is a fact," admitted Falconer with an air of gloomy sarcasm, "that I do possess a daughter; but for all practical purposes I might as well be Robinson Crusoe. I never see her by day, for I am busy in the studio and naturally do not want to be pestered. In the afternoon, as often as not, she goes out or invites some people in. In either case I take my tea alone, for I cannot stand her a.s.sociates. When she does go out she frequently returns only just in time to give me my dinner."

Miss Leslie nodded sympathetically.

"I am sorry," she said. "I had not realised things from your point of view. It all shows how little we really know of one another's inner lives."

"And the only nights upon which she ever seems to stay at home,"

concluded the neglected parent, "are those on which I go out."

Montagu was accustomed to go out about five nights a week, and his daughter perhaps twice a month; so this statement may have been approximately correct.

"I see I have often been thoughtless in my previous att.i.tude toward you, Montagu," said the contrite Miss Leslie. "We women are apt to forget that a man--even a strong, self-reliant man--may sometimes unbend. He, too, may desire companions.h.i.+p,--the right sort of companions.h.i.+p, of course,--as much as the weakest woman. Forgive me!"

Montagu, highly appreciative of the very proper spirit displayed by Miss Leslie, forgave her freely, and then launched into a further catalogue of grievances, Adolphus Prince retiring for the time modestly into the background.

When he had finished, Miss Leslie said:--

"Peggy is young, and perhaps thoughtless. When she marries--"

Montagu Falconer nearly bounded out of his chair. He was genuinely alarmed.

"Marry? That child marry? Good G.o.d, Jean, don't suggest such a thing!

What would become of me, I should like to know. What does the girl want to marry for? Hasn't she got a comfortable home of her own? Hasn't she got me--her father--her only relation in the world--to take care of her?

My dear Jean, do not be romantic at your time of life, I beg of you! You haven't been putting notions into her head, I hope?"

Miss Leslie hastened to still the tempest which she had created.