Part 30 (1/2)
”London. And I can't.”
”Why not?” After all, London was not such a bad idea. He had thought of it before now himself.
”Well--I don't know whether I told you that I'm not on very good terms with my husband's people. They haven't been at all nice to me since poor Frank's death.”
”Poor Elise--”
”They live in London and they want to keep me out of it. My father-in-law gives me a small allowance on condition I don't live there. They hate me,” she said, smiling, ”as much as all that.”
”Is it a large allowance?”
”No. It's a very small one. But they know I can't get on without it.”
”You ought not to be dependent on such people.... Perhaps in a flat--or one of those little houses in St. John's Wood--”
”It would be too heavenly. But what's the good of talking about it?”
”You must know what I want to do for you, Elise. I want to make you happy, to put you safe above all these wretched worries, to take care of you, dear. You _will_ let me, won't you?”
”My dear Mr. Waddington--my dear friend--” The dark eyes brightened.
She saw a clear prospect of the five hundred. Compared with what old Waddy was proposing, such a sum, and a mere loan too, represented moderation. The moment had come, very happily, for reopening this question. ”I can't let you do anything so--so extensive. Really and truly, all I want is just a temporary loan. If you really could lend me that five hundred. You said--”
”I didn't say I would. And I didn't say I wouldn't. I said it would depend.”
”I know. But you never said on what. If the securities I offered you aren't good enough, there's the legacy.”
He was silent. He knew now that his condition had had nothing to do with the securities. He must know, he would know, where he stood.
”My aunt,” said Elise gently, ”is very old.”
”I wouldn't dream of touching your poor little legacy.” He said it with pa.s.sion. ”Won't you drop all this sordid talk about business and trust me?”
”I do trust you.”
The little white hand left off stroking the dark fur and reached out to him. He took it and held it tight. It struggled to withdraw itself.
”You aren't afraid of me?” he said.
”No, but I'm afraid of Partridge coming in and seeing us. He might think it rather odd.”
”He won't come in. It doesn't matter what Partridge thinks.”
”Oh, _doesn't_ it!”
”He won't come in.”
He drew a little closer to her.
”He will. He _will_. He'll come and clear away the things. I hear him coming.”
He got up and went to the door of the smoke-room, to the further door, and looked out.