Joanna went into the drawing room and I followed her. There was a coffee pot on the trivet and Joanna made herself coffee whilst I helped myself to a whisky and soda.

“Worried about you? No, of course not. I thought you’d decided to stay in town and have a binge.”

“I’ve had a binge—of a kind.”

I grinned and then began to laugh.

Joanna asked what I was laughing at and I told her.

“But Jerry, you must have been mad—quite mad!”

“I suppose I was.”

“But, my dear boy, you can’t do things like that—not in a place like this. It will be all round Lymstock tomorrow.”

“I suppose it will. But, after all, Megan’s only a child.”

“She isn’t. She’s twenty. You can’t take a girl of twenty to London and buy her clothes without a most frightful scandal. Good gracious, Jerry, you’ll probably have to marry the girl.”

Joanna was half serious, half laughing.

It was at that moment that I made a very important discovery. “Damn it all,” I said. “I don’t mind if I do. In fact— I should like it.”

A very funny expression came over Joanna’s face. She got up and said dryly, as she went towards the door:

“Yes, I’ve known that for some time….”

She left me standing, glass in hand, aghast at my new discovery.

Chapter Twelve

Twelve

I

I don’t know what the usual reactions are of a man who goes to propose marriage.

In fiction his throat is dry and his collar feels too tight and he is in a pitiable state of nervousness. I didn’t feel at all like that. Having thought of a good idea I just wanted to get it all settled as soon as possible. I didn’t see any particular need for embarrassment.

I went along to the Symmingtons’ house about eleven o’clock. I rang the bell and when Rose came, I asked for Miss Megan. It was the knowing look that Rose gave me that first made me feel slightly shy.

She put me in the little morning room and whilst waiting there I hoped uneasily that they hadn’t been upsetting Megan.

When the door opened and I wheeled round, I was instantly relieved. Megan was not looking shy or upset at all. Her head was still like a glossy chestnut, and she wore that air of pride and self-respect that she had acquired yesterday. She was in her old clothes again but she had managed to make them look different. It’s wonderful what knowledge of her own attractiveness will do for a girl. Megan, I realized suddenly, had grown up.

I suppose I must really have been rather nervous, otherwise I should not have opened the conversation by saying affectionately, “Hallo, catfish!” It was hardly, in the circumstances, a lover-like greeting.

It seemed to suit Megan. She grinned and said, “Hallo!”