I’ll confess.”
“Imp!
Be serious, Bevy.”
“Never more so,” she said.
“Now listen, Frank!
It was this way.
On board our steamer were a half-dozen Englishmen, old and young, and all of them handsome; at least, those with whom I flirted were handsome.”
“I’m sure of that,” said Cowperwood, tolerantly, and still a little dubiously.
“And so?”
“Well, if you’re going to be as generous as all that, I’ll have to tell you that it was all flirtation in your behalf, and innocent, too, although you needn’t believe that.
For instance, I found out about a little suburban place called Boveney on the Thames, not more than thirty miles from London.
The most attractive young bachelor, Arthur Tavistock, told me about it.
He lives there with his mother, Lady Tavistock.
He’s sure I’d like her.
And my mother likes him very much.
So you see . . .”
“Well, I see we live at Boveney, Mother and I,” said Cowperwood, almost sarcastically.
“Precisely!” mocked Berenice.
“And that’s another important point—you and Mother, I mean.
From now on you’re going to have to pay a good deal of attention to her.
And very little to me.
Except as my guardian, of course,” and she tweaked his ear.
“In other words, Cowperwood, the guardian and family friend.” He smiled dryly.
“Exactly!” persisted Berenice.
“And what’s more, I’m to go punting with Arthur very soon.
And, better still,” and here she chuckled, “he knows of a lovely houseboat which will be ideal for Mother and me.
And so, moonlight nights, or sunny afternoons around teatime, while my mother and his mother sit and crochet or walk in the garden, and you smoke and read, Arthur and I . . .”
“Yes, I know, a charming life together: houseboat, lover, spring, guardian, mother.
Quite an ideal summer, in fact.”
“It couldn’t be better,” insisted Berenice vehemently.
“He even described the awnings, red and green.
And all of his friends.”
“Red and green, too, I suppose,” commented Cowperwood.
“Well, practically; flannels and blazers, you know.
And all perfectly proper.
He told Mother so. A host of friends to whom Mother and I are to be introduced.”
“And the wedding invitations?”
“By June, at the latest, I promise you.”
“May I give the bride away?”
“You could, of course,” replied Berenice, without a smile.
“By George!” and Cowperwood laughed loudly.
“Quite a successful voyage, I must say!”
“You haven’t heard a fraction of it,” she went on blatantly, and almost contentiously.
“Not a fraction!
There’s Maidenhead—I blush to mention it——”
“You do?
I’ll make a note of that.”
“I haven’t told you yet about Colonel Hawkesberry, of the Royal something-or-other,” she said, mock-foolishly.
“One of those regiment things; knows a fellow officer who has a cousin who has a cottage in some park or other on the Thames.”
“Two cottages and two houseboats!