Part 29 (1/2)
”Come in,” she said, liking his tone, which flattered her by a.s.suming her sense of humour.
”As I'm sleeping at the office to-night, I thought I might as well take one or two of my musical instruments after all. So I came back.”
”You've been round?” she asked, meaning round to the Orgreaves'.
”Yes.”
”What is it, really?”
”Well, it appears to be pericarditis supervening on renal disease. He lost consciousness, you know.”
”Yes, I know. But what is pericarditis?”
”Pericarditis is inflammation of the pericardium.”
”And what's the pericardium?”
They both smiled faintly.
”The pericardium is the membrane that encloses the heart. I don't mind telling you that I've only just acquired this encyclopaedic knowledge from Stirling,--he was there.”
”And is it supposed to be very dangerous?”
”I don't know. Doctors never want to tell you anything except what you can find out for yourself.”
After a little hesitating pause they went into the drawing-room, where the lights were still burning, and the full disorder of the musical evening persisted, including the cigarette-ash on the carpet. Tertius Ingpen picked up his clarinet case, took out the instrument, examined the mouthpiece lovingly, and with tenderness laid it back.
”Do sit down a moment,” said Hilda, sitting limply down. ”It's stifling, isn't it?”
”Let me open the window,” he suggested politely.
As he returned from the window, he said, pulling his short beard:
”It was wonderful how those Orgreaves went through the musical evening, wasn't it? Makes you proud of being English.... I suppose Janet's a great friend of yours?”
His enthusiasm touched her, and her pride in Janet quickened to it. She gave a deliberate, satisfied nod in reply to his question. She was glad to be alone with him in the silence of the house.
”Ed gone to bed?” he questioned, after another little pause.
Already he was calling her husband Ed, and with an affectionate intonation!
She nodded again.
”He stuck it out jolly well,” said Ingpen, still standing.
”He brings these attacks on himself,” said Hilda, with the calm sententiousness of a good digestion discussing a bad one. She was becoming pleased with herself--with her expensive dress, her position, her philosophy, and her power to hold the full attention of this man.
Ingpen replied, looking steadily at her:
”We bring everything on ourselves.”