The Top of the World | Page 6

utmost severity. So now you understand."
"I do indeed," said Sylvia.
She had not stirred from her chair, but sat watching her step-mother's
agitated pacing with grim attention. It was her first acquaintance with
the most violent temper she had ever encountered in a woman, and it
interested her. She was no longer conscious of being angry herself. The
whole affair had become a sort of bitter comedy. She looked upon it

with a species of impersonal scorn.
Mrs. Ingleton was obviously lashing herself to fury. She could not
imagine why, not realizing at that stage that she was the victim of a
jealousy so fierce as to amount almost to a mania. She wondered if her
father were watching them from the terrace, and contemplated getting
up to join him, but hesitated to do so, reflecting that it might appear like
flight. At the same time she did not see why she should remain as a
target for her step-mother's invective, and she had just decided upon
departure when Bliss, the butler, opened the door with his own
peculiarly quiet flourish and announced, "Captain Preston!"
A clean-shaven little man, with a horsey appearance about the legs
which evening-dress wholly failed to conceal, entered, and instinctively
Sylvia rose to receive him.
Mrs. Ingleton stopped short and stared as they met in the middle of the
room.
"Hullo, Sylvia!" said the little man, and stamped forward as if he had
just dismounted after a long ride. He had a loud voice and an assertive
manner, and Mrs. Ingleton gazed at him in frozen surprise.
Sylvia turned towards her. "May I introduce Mr. Preston--the M.F.H.?"
Her tone was cold. If the newcomer's advent had been a welcome
diversion it obviously gave her no pleasure.
Preston, however, plainly did not stand in need of any encouragement.
He strode up to Mrs. Ingleton, confronting her with aggressive
self-assurance, "Delighted to meet you, madam. You are Sylvia's
step-mother, I presume? I hope we shall be more nearly connected
before long. Anyone belongin' to Sylvia has my highest esteem. She
has the straightest seat on a horse of any woman I know. Ingleton and I
between us taught her all she knows about huntin', and she does us
credit, by gad!"
He winked at Mrs. Ingleton as he ended, and Sylvia bit her lip. Mrs.
Ingleton, however, held out her hand.

"Pray sit down, Mr. Preston! You are most welcome. Sylvia, my dear,
will you find the cigarettes?"
Sylvia took a box from the table and handed it to him. He took it from
her, openly pinching her fingers as he did so, and offered it to her
instead.
"After you, Cherry-ripe! You're lookin' spiffin' to-night, hey, Mrs.
Ingleton? What do you think of your new daughter?"
Mrs. Ingleton was smiling. "I am only wondering what all you young
men can be about," she said. "I should have thought one of you would
have captured her long ago."
Sylvia turned round, disgust in every line, and walked to the window.
"I will find Dad," she said.
Preston looked after her, standing with legs wide apart on the
hearth-rug. "It's none of my fault, I assure you," he said. "I've been
tryin' to rope her for the last two years. But she's so damn' shy. Can't
get near her, by George."
"Really?" smiled Mrs. Ingleton. "Perhaps you have not gone quite the
right way to work. I think I shall have to take a hand in the game and
see what I can do."
Preston bowed with his hand on his heart, "I always like to get the fair
sex on my side whenever possible. If you can put the halter on her,
you've only to name your price, madam, and it's yours."
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Ingleton. "You're very generous."
"I can afford to be," declared Preston. "She's a decent bit of goods--the
only one I've ever wanted and couldn't get. If you can get the
whip-hand of her and drive her my way--well, it'll be pretty good
business for all concerned. You like diamonds, hey, madam?"
"Very much," laughed Mrs. Ingleton coquettishly. "But you mustn't

make my husband jealous. Remember that now!"
Preston closed one eye deliberately and poked his tongue into his cheek.
"You leave that to me, my good madam. Anythin' of that sort would be
the gift of the bridegroom. See?"
"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Ingleton. "I shall certainly do my best for you,
Mr. Preston."
"Good for you!" said Preston jocularly. "It's a deal then. And you play
every trump you've got!"
"You may depend upon me," said Mrs. Ingleton.

CHAPTER III
THE WHIP-HAND
"Why isn't Mr. Preston engaged to Sylvia?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton of
her husband as she faced him across the breakfast-table on the
following morning.
"He'd like to be," said