“I’m sure you will, Hector. And I don’t really think you and Myrtle were suited to one another.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I think you require a softer, gentler kind of a girl. Myrtle is hard as nails.”

“By Jove, I believe you’re right, Carrie. You know, she actually wanted me to fish with a worm. I must admit that did give me a bit of a bump. Yes, I believe you’re right, Carrie. I don’t believe we should ever have seen eye to eye over sport. And that would have created a rift in time.”

“It would have created a chasm,” said Carrie decidedly.

“And married people can’t afford to do that over really important things like sport,” Hector observed gravely. “I mean to say you can differ about things like religion because everybody’s got a right to their own religion and anyway one doesn’t talk about religion in public. But fishing for trout with worms—and garden-worms at that!” He spouted again, but this time it savoured less of a sigh for what he had lost than an exhalation of relief at what he had escaped.

That night Carrie went along to Myrtle’s room in her pastel-rose dressing-gown and sat on the bed with her back against one of the mahogany posts.

“Well, did you find out you were right?” she asked her sister-in-law.

“Right how?”

“Right in thinking he was your property?” said Carrie.

“I believe I’ll marry him if he asks me.”

“Well, if he doesn’t ask you himself I’ll ask you on his account,” said Carrie. “He’s probably afraid of your money. Did he read you the poem?”

“He read me a lot of poems.”

“And all about little you?”

Myrtle nodded.

“What’s it feel like to have poetry written about you?” Carrie asked, her voice just touched by wistfulness.

“It’s lots of fun, Carrie.”

“He’ll have to ask you pretty quick, honey, because now you’ve refused Hector I don’t think we ought to stay on at Glenbogle indefinitely. Anyway, we ought to be nearer Knocknacolly. I suggested to Chester we should furnish some rooms at the Lodge and camp out there till we go home at the end of the month, but Chester’s afraid what Wilton will say, and he doesn’t want to lose him. However, I guess we’ll manage. We can send Wilton down to London.”

“You’ll have to make it clear to Alan that money doesn’t matter,” Myrtle said. “What’s money anyway?”

“Just nothing at all, honey, when there’s as much of it as you and I have.”

Chapter 18

THE PRINCE’S CAVE