"I say, Sancie, I'm going to ask a favour of you--not the first, by any
means; but I always was a sturdy beggar. The Lord loveth a sturdy beggar,
eh? Well, look here, I'm at a loose end again. Nevile's taken 'em out
driving--to a tea-party--to the Sowerbys. I jibbed, though I was asked. I
lied, because they drove me into a corner. I couldn't face old Sowerby's
chin--and all those gels with their embroidered curates--what? You know
what I mean. I mean their church-work, and the curates they do it for. So
I said I was going fishing--which was a lie--and Mrs. Devereux as good as
said it was a lie. Now, suppose you invite me to tea; how would that be?"
"Then you _do_ go fishing," said Sanchia, and smiled. "Very well. I do
invite you."
"Bravo! You're a true friend. O woman, in our hours of ease...! Trust me
for an apposite quotation ... and new, what? I believe I'm pretty good at
quotations. My people used to play a game. You write down a name on a bit
of paper; then you fold it down; then a quotation; then another name.
That's my vein of gold. Now you have it--the secret's out. I'm coming, you
know. I accept. Many thanks. What's your hour?"
"Half-past four," she told him.
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