"To that of making you laugh at me."
"Would you give a good man up for that?"
"A good man? What man?"
"Well, say me—if I wanted to marry you."
Biddy hesitated a little. "Of course I would, in a moment. At any rate, I'd give up the House of Commons. That's what Nick's going to do now—only you mustn't tell any one."
Sherringham stared. "He's going to chuck up his seat?"
"I think his mind is made up to it. He has talked me over—we have had some deep discussions. Yes, I'm on the side of art!" said Biddy, ardently.
"Do you mean in order to paint—to paint Miss Rooth?" Peter went on.
"To paint every one—that's what he wants. By keeping his seat he hasn't kept Julia, and she was the thing he cared most for, in public life. When he has got out of the whole thing his attitude, as he says, will be at least clear. He's tremendously interesting about it, Peter; he has talked to me wonderfully; he has won me over. Mamma's heart-broken; telling her will be the hardest part."
"If she doesn't know, why is she heart-broken?"
"Oh, at the marriage not coming off—she knows that. That's what she wanted. She thought it perfection. She blames Nick fearfully. She thinks he held the whole thing in his hand and that he has thrown away a magnificent opportunity."
"And what does Nick say to her?"
"He says, 'Dear old mummy!'"
"That's good," said Sherringham.
