Free Heavy Weather by P. G. Wodehouse

accordingly, to indicate any connexion between the two, and Sue was just about to address to her old friend a cordial word of congratulation on his abilities as a sprinter, when the sound of the opening door caused him to turn. And so blank, so icy was the stare of non-recognition which she encountered that she sank bewildered on the cushions with all the sensations of one who, after being cut by the county, walks into a brick wall.
    It was not long, however, before enlightenment came. Monty was a young man who believed in taking no chances.
    'Nice and green the country's looking, Lady Julia,' he observed. 'Isn't it, Lady Julia?'
    His companion gave it a glance.
    'Very, considering there has been no rain for such a long time.' 'I should think Ronnie must be enjoying it at Blandings, Lady Julia.'
    'I beg your pardon?'
    'I say,' said Monty, spacing his words carefully, 'that your son Ronnie must be enjoying the green of the countryside at Blandings Castle. He likes it green,' explained Monty. And with another frigid stare at Sue he leaned back and puffed his cheeks out.
    There was a pause. Monty had not wrought in vain. An electric thrill seemed to pass through Sue's small body. Her heart was thumping.
    'I beg your pardon,' she said breathlessly. 'Are you Lady Julia Fish?' 'I am.'
    'My name's Sue Brown,' said Sue, wishing that she could have achieved a vocal delivery a little more impressive than that of a very young, startled mouse.
    'Well, well, well!' said Lady Jul ia. 'Fancy that. Quite a coinci dence, Mr Bodkin.'
    'Oh, quite. Most.'
    'We were just talking about you, Miss Brown.'
    Sue nodded speechlessly.
    'I am losing a son and gaining a daughter, and you're the daughter, eh?'
    Sue continued to nod. Monty, personally, considered that she was overdoing it. She ought, he felt, to be saying something. Something bright and snappy like. . . well, he couldn't on the spur of the moment think just what, but something bright and snappy.
    'Yes,' said Lady Julia, 'I recognize you. Ronnie sent me a photograph of you, you know. I thought it charming. Well, you must come over here and tell me all about yourself. We will get rid of Mr Bodkin. . . By the way, you did tell me you had not met Miss Brown?'
    'Definitely not. Certainly not. Far from it. Not at all.'
    ' Don't speak in that tone of horrified loathing, M r Bodkin. I'm sure Miss Brown is a very nice girl, well worthy of your acquaintance. At any rate, you've met her now. Mr Bodkin, Miss Brown.'
    'How do you do?' said Monty stiffly.
    ' How do you do?’ said Sue with aloofness.
    'Mr Bodkin is coming to Blandings as my brother's secretary.'
    'Fancy!' said Sue.
    'And now run along and look at the green countryside, Mr Bodkin. Miss Brown and I want to have a talk about all sorts of things.'
    ' I'll go and have a smoke,' said Monty, inspired. 'Do,' said Lady Julia.
    Monty Bodkin sat in his smoking-compartment, well pleased with himself. It had been a near thing, and it had taken a man of affairs to avert disaster, but he had brought it off. Another half-second and young Sue would have spilled the beans. He was, as we say, pleased with himself, and he was also pleased with Sue. She had shown a swift grasp of the situation. There had been a moment when he had feared he was being too subtle, trying the female intelligence, notoriously so greatly inferior to the male, too high. But all had been well. Good old Sue had understood those guarded hints of his, and now everything looked pretty smooth.
    He closed his eyes contentedly, and dropped off into a refreshing sleep.
    From this he was aroused some half an hour later by the click of the door; and, opening his eyes and blinking once or twice, was enabled to perceive Sue standing before him. 'Ah! Interview over ?'
    Sue nodded and sat down. Her face was grave, like that of a puzzled child. Extraordinarily pretty it made her look, felt Monty, and for an instant there stole over him a faint regret for what might have been. T hen he thought of