Jill the Reckless. P. G. Wodehouse

got to know."

      "I have not got to know him, and I thank heaven for it!"

      "He's a very good-natured fellow. It was decent of him to put me up at the Albany while our house was let. By the way, he has some seats for the first night of a new piece this evening. He suggested that we might all dine at the Albany and go on to the theatre." He hesitated a moment. "Jill will be there," he said, and felt easier now that her name had at last come into the talk. "She's longing to meet you."

      "Then why didn't she meet me?"

      "Here, do you mean? At the station? Well, I—I wanted you to see her for the first time in pleasanter surroundings."

      "Oh!" said Lady Underhill shortly.

      It is a disturbing thought that we suffer in this world just as much by being prudent and taking precautions as we do by being rash and impulsive and acting as the spirit moves us. If Jill had been permitted by her wary fiancé to come with him to the station to meet his mother it is certain that much trouble would have been avoided. True, Lady Underhill would probably have been rude to her in the opening stages of the interview, but she would not have been alarmed and suspicious; or, rather, the vague suspicion which she had been feeling would not have solidified, as it did now into definite certainty of the worst. All that Derek had effected by his careful diplomacy had been to convince his mother that he considered his bride-elect something to be broken gently to her.

      She stopped and faced him.

      "Who is she?" she demanded. "Who is this girl?"

      Derek flushed.

      "I thought I made everything clear in my letter."

      "You made nothing clear at all."

      "By your leave!" chanted a porter behind them, and a baggage-truck clove them apart.

      "We can't talk in a crowded station," said Derek irritably. "Let me get you to the taxi and take you to the hotel. … What do you want to know about Jill?"

      "Everything. Where does she come from? Who are her people? I don't know any Mariners."

      "I haven't cross-examined her," said Derek stiffly. "But I do know that her parents are dead. Her father was an American."

      "American!"

      "Americans frequently have daughters, I believe."

      "There is nothing to be gained by losing your temper," said Lady Underhill with steely calm.

      "There is nothing to be gained, as far as I can see, by all this talk," retorted Derek. He wondered vexedly why his mother always had this power of making him lose control of himself. He hated to lose control of himself. It upset him, and blurred that vision which he liked to have of himself as a calm, important man superior to ordinary weaknesses. "Jill and I are engaged, and there is an end to it."

      "Don't be a fool," said Lady Underhill, and was driven away by another baggage-truck. "You know perfectly well," she resumed, returning to the attack, "that your marriage is a matter of the greatest concern to me and to the whole of the family."

      "Listen, mother!" Derek's long wait on the draughty platform had generated an irritability which overcame the deep-seated awe of his mother which was the result of years of defeat in battles of the will. "Let me tell you in a few words all that I know of Jill, and then we'll drop the subject. In the first place, she is a lady. Secondly, she has plenty of money. … "

      "The Underhills do not need to marry for money."

      "I am not marrying for money!"

      "Well, go on."

      "I have already described to you in my letter—very inadequately, but I did my best—what she looks like. Her sweetness, her lovableness, all the subtle things about her which go to make her what she is, you will have to judge for yourself."

      "I intend to!"

      "Well, that's all, then. She lives with her uncle, a Major Selby. … "

      "Major Selby? What regiment?"

      "I didn't ask him," snapped the goaded Derek. "And, in the name of heaven, what does it matter? If you are worrying about Major Selby's social standing, I may as well tell you that he used to know father."

      "What! When? Where?"

      "Years ago. In India, when father was at Simla."

      "Selby? Selby? Not Christopher Selby?"

      "Oh, you remember him?"

      "I certainly remember him! Not that he and I ever met, but your father often spoke of him."

      Derek was relieved. It was abominable that this sort of thing should matter, but one had to face facts, and, as far as his mother was concerned, it did. The fact that Jill's uncle had known his dead father would make all the difference to Lady Underhill.

      "Christopher Selby!" said Lady Underhill reflectively. "Yes! I have often heard your father speak of him. He was the man who gave your father an I.O.U. to pay a card debt, and redeemed it with a cheque which was returned by the bank!"

      "What!"

      "Didn't you hear what I said? I will repeat it, if you wish."

      "There must have been some mistake."

      "Only the one your father made when he trusted the man."

      "It must have been some other fellow."

      "Of course!" said Lady Underhill satirically. "No doubt your father knew hundreds of Christopher Selbys!"

      Derek bit his lip.

      "Well, after all," he said doggedly, "whether it's true or not. … "

      "I see no reason why your father should not have spoken the truth."

      "All right. We'll say it is true, then. But what does it matter? I am marrying Jill, not her uncle."

      "Nevertheless, it would be pleasanter if her only living relative were not a swindler! … Tell me, where and how did you meet this girl?"

      "I should be glad if you would not refer to her as 'this girl.' The name, if you have forgotten it, is Mariner."

      "Well, where did you meet Miss Mariner?"

      "At Prince's. Just after you left for Mentone. Freddie Rooke introduced me."

      "Oh, your intellectual friend Mr. Rooke knows her?"

      "They were children together. Her people lived next to the Rookes in Worcestershire."

      "I thought you said she was an American."

      "I said her father was. He settled in England. Jill hasn't been in America since she was eight or nine."

      "The fact," said Lady Underhill, "that the girl is a friend of Mr. Rooke is no great recommendation."

      Derek kicked angrily at a box of matches which someone had thrown down on the platform.

      "I wonder if you could possibly get it into your head, mother, that I want to marry Jill, not engage her as an under-housemaid. I don't consider that she requires recommendations, as you call them. However, don't you think the most sensible thing is for you to wait till you meet her at dinner to-night, and then you can form your own opinion? I'm beginning to get a little bored by this futile discussion."

      "As you seem quite unable to talk on the subject of this girl without becoming rude," said Lady Underhill, "I agree with you. Let us hope that my first impression will be a favourable one. Experience has taught me that first impressions are everything."

      "I'm glad you think so," said Derek, "for I fell in love with Jill the very first moment I saw her!"

IV

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