"Ah!You saw him further,"said George amicably."He's a real rouser.Young Val will want a bit of looking after.I was always sorry for Winifred.She's a plucky woman."Again Soames nodded."I must be getting back to her,"he said;"she just wanted to know for certain.We may have to take steps.
I suppose there's no mistake?"
"It's quite O.K.,"said George--it was he who invented so many of those quaint sayings which have been assigned to other sources.
"He was drunk as a lord last night;but he went off all right this morning.His ship's the Tuscarora;"and,fishing out a card,he read mockingly:
"'Mr.Montague Dartie,Poste Restante,Buenos Aires.'I should hurry up with the steps,if I were you.He fairly fed me up last night.""Yes,"said Soames;"but it's not always easy."Then,conscious from George's eyes that he had roused reminiscence of his own affair,he got up,and held out his hand.George rose too.
"Remember me to Winifred.You'll enter her for the Divorce Stakes straight off if you ask me."Soames took a sidelong look back at him from the doorway.George had seated himself again and was staring before him;he looked big and lonely in those black clothes.Soames had never known him so subdued.'I suppose he feels it in a way,'he thought.'They must have about fifty thousand each,all told.They ought to keep the estate together.If there's a war,house property will go down.
Uncle Roger was a good judge,though.'And the face of Annette rose before him in the darkening street;her brown hair and her blue eyes with their dark lashes,her fresh lips and cheeks,dewy and blooming in spite of London,her perfect French figure.'Take steps!'he thought.Re-entering Winifred's house he encountered Val,and they went in together.An idea had occurred to Soames.