I
had a task before me with my mother, and here Mr Nixon was
plunging into the supper. I could not break it gently to my mother
that I was engaged to a strange young woman in the presence of Mr
Nixon. Mr Nixon had been in to supper several times during
previous visits of mine, but never on the first night.
However, I had to make the best of it. And we sat down and began
on the ham, the sausages, the eggs, the crumpets, the toast, the
jams, the mince-tarts, the Stilton, and the celery. But we none of
us ate very much, despite my little plump mother's protestations.
My suspicion was that perhaps something had gone slightly wrong
with my mother's affairs, and that Mr Nixon was taking the first
opportunity to explain things to me. But such a possibility did
not interest me, for I could easily afford to keep my mother and a
wife too. I was still preoccupied in my engagement--and surely
there is nothing astonishing in that--and I began to compose the
words in which, immediately on the departure of Mr Nixon after
supper, I would tackle my mother on the subject.
When we had reached the Stilton and celery, I intimated that I
must walk down to the post-office, as I had to dispatch a letter.
'Won't it do tomorrow, my pet?' asked my mother.
'It will not,' I said.
Imagine leaving Agnes two days without news of my safe arrival and
without assurances of my love! I had started writing the letter in
the train, near Willesden, and I finished it in the drawing-room.
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