“I see,” he said at last. “It’s a variant of those advertisements they print in the magazines. ‘Why pay rent? Own somebody else’s home!’”
“That _does_ rather sum it up,” said Jill.
Jill was immensely relieved. For all her courageous bearing, she had not relished the task of breaking the news to Wally. She knew that he had a sense of humor, but a man may have a sense of humor and yet not see anything amusing in having his home stolen in his absence.
“It’s so wonderful that it happened to be you. Suppose it had been an utter stranger! What could I have done?”
“It would have been the same thing. You would have won him over in two minutes. Nobody could resist you.”
“I can’t help telling the truth. Washington was just the same.”
“Then you don’t mind Uncle Chris giving his dinner-party here tonight?”
“You really are an angel,” said Jill gratefully. “From what he said, I think he looks on it as rather an important function. He has invited a very rich woman, who has been showing him a lot of hospitality,—a Mrs Peagrim …”
“Quite well. She goes in a good deal for being Bohemian and knowing people who write and paint and act and so on. That reminds me. I gave Freddie Rooke a letter of introduction to her.”
“Yes. He suddenly made up his mind to come over. He came to me for advice about the journey. He sailed a couple of days before I did. I suppose he’s somewhere in New York by now, unless he was going on to Florida. He didn’t tell me what his plans were.”
Jill was conscious of a sudden depression. Much as she liked Freddie, he belonged to a chapter in her life which was closed and which she was trying her hardest to forget. It was impossible to think of Freddie without thinking of Derek, and to think of Derek was like touching an exposed nerve. The news that Freddie was in New York shocked her. New York had already shown itself a city of chance encounters. Could she avoid meeting Freddie?
She knew Freddie so well. There was not a dearer or a better-hearted youth in the world, but he had not that fine sensibility which pilots a man through the awkwardnesses of life. He was a blunderer. Instinct told her that, if she met Freddie, he would talk of Derek, and, if thinking of Derek was touching an exposed nerve, talking of him would like pressing on that nerve with a heavy hand. She shivered.