Part 75 (1/2)
”My father is dead,” she added.
As she spoke she looked up at him, and she saw a sharp quiver distort his lips for an instant.
”Did you know him?” she exclaimed, standing still.
”I? Indeed no! Why should you suppose so?”
”I thought--I don't know!”
He was now looking so calm, so earnestly sympathetic, that she almost believed that her eyes had played her a trick and that his face had not changed at her news.
”I'm not normal to-day,” she thought.
”I am deeply grieved, deeply. Please accept from me my most full sympathy.”
”Thank you. I scarcely ever saw my father, but naturally this news has upset me. He died in the Bahamas.”
”How very sad! So far away!”
”Yes.”
They were still standing together, and he was holding his umbrella over her head and gazing down at her earnestly, when Craven turned the corner of the road and came up to them. Miss Van Tuyn flushed. Although she had asked Craven to come, she felt startled when she saw him, and her confusion of mind increased. She did not feel competent to deal with the situation which she had deliberately brought about. Craven had come upon them too suddenly. She had somehow not expected him just at that moment, when she and Arabian were standing still. Before she was able to recover her normal self-possession, Craven had taken off his hat to her and gone rapidly past them. She had just time to see the grim line of his lips and the hard, searching glance he sent to her companion. Arabian, she noticed, looked after him, and she saw that, while he looked, his large eyes lost all their melting gentleness. They had a cruel, almost menacing expression in them, and they were horribly intelligent at that moment.
”What does this man not know?” she thought.
He might have little, or no, ordinary learning, but she was positive that he had an almost appallingly intimate knowledge of many chapters in the dark books of life.
”Shall we--?” said Arabian.
And they walked on slowly together.
”May I make a suggestion, Miss Van Tuyn,” he said gently.
”What is it?”
”My little flat is close by, in Rose Tree Gardens. It is not quite arranged, but tea will be ready. Let me please offer you a cup of tea and a cigarette. There is a taxi!”
He made a signal with his left hand.
”We will keep it at the door, so that you may at once leave when you feel refreshed. You have had this bad shock. You need a moment to recover.”
The cab stopped beside them.
”No, I must really go home,” she said, with an attempt at determination.
”Of course! But please let me have the privilege. You have told me first of all of your grief. This is real friends.h.i.+p. Let me then be also friendly, and help you to recover yourself.”
”But really I must--”
”Four, Rose Tree Gardens! You know them?”