"
"Surely at your age," said Mrs. Hignett, disapprovingly, "you could be
better occupied. Do you spend your whole time playing golf?"
"Oh, no. I hunt a bit and shoot a bit and I swim a good lot, and I
still play football occasionally."
"I wonder your father does not insist on your doing some useful work."
"He is beginning to harp on the subject rather. I suppose I shall take
a stab at it sooner or later. Father says I ought to get married, too."
"He is perfectly right."
"I suppose old Eustace will be getting hitched up one of these days?"
said Sam.
Mrs. Hignett started violently.
"Why do you say that?"
"Eh?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, well, he's a romantic sort of fellow. Writes poetry and all that."
"There is no likelihood at all of Eustace marrying. He is of a shy and
retiring temperament and sees few women. He is almost a recluse."
Sam was aware of this and had frequently regretted it. He had always
been fond of his cousin and in that half-amused and rather patronising
way in which men of thews and sinews are fond of the weaker brethren
who run more to pallor and intellect; and he had always felt that if
Eustace had not had to retire to Windles to spend his life with a woman
whom from his earliest years he had always considered the Empress of
the Wash-outs much might have been made of him.
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