I
sold her to a local sportsman when I was in America a couple of
years ago. But I saw in the paper yesterday that the poor old
buffer had died suddenly, so I suppose it would be difficult to get
hold of her for the time being." Reggie broke off with a sharp
exclamation.
"My sainted aunt!"
"What's the matter?"
Both his companions were looking past him, wide-eyed. George
occupied the chair that had its back to the door, and was unable to
see what it was that had caused their consternation; but he deduced
that someone known to both of them must have entered the
restaurant; and his first thought, perhaps naturally, was that it
must be Reggie's "mater". Reggie dived behind a menu, which he held
before him like a shield, and his bride, after one quick look, had
turned away so that her face was hidden. George swung around, but
the newcomer, whoever he or she was, was now seated and
indistinguishable from the rest of the lunchers.
"Who is it?"
Reggie laid down the menu with the air of one who after a momentary
panic rallies.
"Don't know what I'm making such a fuss about," he said stoutly. "I
keep forgetting that none of these blighters really matter in the
scheme of things.
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