No matter what social
engagements they may happen to have, these are all thrown aside for the
new friend. London people, with all their correctness, are really more
unconventional than any other people in the world. For instance, in
Paris such a thing could never happen in any kind of _monde_, unless,
perhaps, it were among artists and Bohemians; and even then it would be
their great object to prove to one another that they were not wanting
in distractions and were very much in demand; the lady, especially,
would make the man wait for an opportunity of seeing her again, from
calculation, to make herself seem of more value. Such second-rate
solicitudes would never even occur to Edith. But she had a scruple
about throwing over old Mrs Ottley.
* * * * *
'Won't your mother be disappointed?' Edith asked.
'My dear Edith, you can safely leave that to me. Of course she'll be
disappointed, but you can go round and see her, and speak to her nicely
and tell her that after all we can't come because we've got another
engagement.'
'And am I to tell her it's a subsequent one? Otherwise she'll wonder we
didn't mention it before.'
'Don't be in a hurry, dear. Don't rush things; remember... she's my
mother. Perhaps to you, Edith, it seems a rather old-fashioned idea,
and I daresay you think it's rot, but to me there's something very
sacred about the idea of a mother.' He lit a cigarette and looked in
the glass.
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