Part 68 (1/2)
”She hardly seems the kind of person Basil would like, but he appeared quite pleased. It may have been a little quixotism. All he said was:
”What in the world should we have done without you, G; and there! only a few weeks ago you were wis.h.i.+ng you had not been born.”
”How like Basil. All grat.i.tude and understanding as usual. But it must have hit him rather hard, Dudley. Is he all right?”
”I don't know.” The gloom on Dudley's face deepened. ”I thought he looked very ill, but I could not get Ethel to say much. She seemed rather to avoid me. I don't think she likes me.”
Hal was conscious of a little inward smile of gladness. She had guessed Ethel's secret long enough ago, and she knew the power of uncertainty and a little thwarting. Dudley would naturally try to break down Ethel's dislike; and perhaps in doing so he would grow to know her better.
”I think I must try and get up to-morrow,” was all she said. ”Ethel is so reserved. She will get ill herself if she broods and frets on t he top of all her work and anxiety.”
”Will you?” he asked, with some eagerness. ”Basil loves to see you; and if he is really worse, I shall get Sir John Maitland to go up and see him again.”
”Of course I'll go. We may be able to help them between us.”
She was just going away upstairs to bed, when the forlorness of Dudley's att.i.tude, and the thought of her own sore heart before d.i.c.k comforted her, made her lay down her hat again and cross the room to him.
”Dudley, don't forget you've got me still. I know I'm very trying sometimes, but I love you so much more than Doris ever could have.”
She sat on the arm of his chair, and played with the lapel of his coat.
”Don't forget about me, Dudley. If you are just only miserable, I shall be miserable too.”
He looked at her with a sudden greater depth of affection than she had ever seen.
”I don't forget, Hal. If it weren't for you, what in the world should I do now?... It's no use talking about it, is it? You will understand that; but thank G.o.d you're still here with me, and we can go on the same again.”
She stooped and kissed him hurriedly, and then left the room, that he might not see the tears br.i.m.m.i.n.g over in her eyes.
The next morning she rang up Lorraine's flat, to know if she had come back yet. She was rather surprised when Jean her maid answered. It was not like Lorraine to go away without her maid.
”You don't know when to expect her?...” she repeated uncertainly.
”No; Miss Vivian said she might come any day, or she might stay over another Sunday. She has the motor with her.”
”Is she far from a station?” Hal asked, contemplating the possibility of joining her on Sat.u.r.day if she had not returned.
”About seven miles, I think. She went down in the car, and is coming back in it. I have had one letter, in which she says she is having lovely weather, and absolute rest, and feeling much better.”
”That's good. Well, if she comes back suddenly will you ask her to 'phone me? I want to see her.”
But neither the next day nor the one after was there any call, and in reply to a second query on Sat.u.r.day, Jean said she had only received a wire that morning saying she was staying until Tuesday.
Hal was a little puzzled that she had not been invited down for the second week-end, but decided Lorraine must have meant to return and changed her mind at the last moment, leaving no time to get a message to her.
A later encounter with d.i.c.k, however, puzzled her more than ever.
”Old Alymer is taking quite a long holiday,” he said. ”We were expecting him on Tuesday or Wednesday, but he never turned up. He was at the Temple on Thursday, but went away again in the evening.”