Part 10 (1/2)
”I can never quite forgive myself for being poor, since it's going to cost me so much.”
”You are too equivocal for any use. Answer my question,” snapped the small inquisitor.
”How can I?” Brockway inquired, with masculine density. ”Forgiveness implies an injury, and----”
”Oh, _oh_--how stupid you can be when you try! You know perfectly well what I mean.”
”I'm not sure that I do,” said Brockway, whose wit was easily confounded by a sharp tongue.
”Then I'll put it in words of one syllable. Do you mean to ask Miss Vennor to be your wife?”
”I couldn't, and keep my self-respect.”
”Not if you knew she wanted you to?” persisted the small tormentor.
”Oh, I say--that couldn't be, you know,” he protested. ”I'm nothing more than a pleasant acquaintance to her, at the very most.”
”But if you knew she did?”
”How could I know it?”
”We are not discussing ways and means; answer the question.”
Thereat the man, tempted beyond what he could bear, abdicated in favor of the lover. ”If I could be certain of that, Mrs. Burton--if I could be sure she loves me, nothing on earth should stand in the way of our happiness. Is that what you wanted me to say?”
The little lady clapped her hands enthusiastically. ”I thought I could find the joint in your armor, after awhile. Now you may go; I want to be by myself and think. Good-night.”
Brockway took the summary dismissal good-naturedly, and, as the train was just then slowing into a station, he ran out to drop off and catch the upcoming hand-rail of the Tadmor.
XI
AN ARRIVAL IN TRANSIT
When Gertrude bade Brockway good-night, she changed places for the moment with a naughty child on its way to face the consequences of a misbehavior, entering the private car with a childish consciousness of wrong-doing fighting for place with a rather militant determination to meet reproof with womanly indifference. Much to her relief, she found her father alone, and there was no distinguishable note of displeasure in his greeting.
”Well, Gertrude, did you enjoy your little diversion? Sit down and tell me about it. How does the cab compare with the sitting-room of a private car?”
The greeting was misleading, but she saw fit to regard it as merely the handshaking which precedes a battle royal.
”I enjoyed it much,” she answered, quietly. ”It was very exciting; and very interesting, too.”
”Ah; I presume so. And your escort took good care of you--made you quite comfortable, I suppose.”
”Yes.”
Mr. Vennor leaned back in his chair and regarded her gravely through the swirls of blue smoke curling upward from his cigar. ”Didn't it strike you as being rather--ah--a girlish thing for you to do? in the night, you know, and with a comparative stranger?”
Gertrude thought the battle was about to open, and began to throw up hasty fortifications. ”Mr. Brockway is not a stranger; you may remember that we became quite well acquainted----”