The God in the Car Part 41

"Hold for your life, Miss Ferrars," said Willie; and going up to Bessie Semingham he held out his hand.

"What, are you really off? It's too bad of you, Mr. Ruston! Not that I've seen much of you. Maggie has quite monopolised you."

Adela and Tom looked at the ground. Semingham turned his back; his smile would not be smothered.

"Of course you're going to say good-bye to her?" pursued Lady Semingham.

Tom looked up, and Adela followed his example. They were rewarded--if it were a reward--by seeing a slight frown--the first shadow since he had been with them--on Ruston's brow. But he answered briskly, with a glance at his watch,

"I can't manage it. I should miss the boat. I must write her a line."

"Oh, she'll never forgive you," cried Lady Semingham.

"Oh, yes, she will," he laughed. "It's for Omof.a.ga, you know. Good-bye.

Good-bye. I'm awfully sorry to go. Good-bye."

He was gone. It was difficult to realise at first. His presence, the fact of him, had filled so large a s.p.a.ce; it had been the feature of the place from the day he had joined them. It had been their interest and their incubus.

For a moment the three stood staring at one another; then Semingham, with a curious laugh, turned on his heel and went into the house. His wife unfolded yesterday's _Morning Post_ and began to read.

"Come for a stroll," said Tom Loring to Adela.

She accompanied him in silence, and they walked a hundred yards or more before she spoke.

"What a blessing!" she said then. "I wonder if your coming sent him away?"

"No, it was genuine," declared Tom, with conviction.

"Then I was very wrong, or he's a most extraordinary man. I can't talk to you about it, Mr. Loring, but you told me I might send. And I did think it--desirable--when I wrote. I did, indeed. I hope you're not very much annoyed?"

"Annoyed! No; I was delighted to come. And I am still more delighted that it looks as if I wasn't wanted."

"Oh, you're wanted, anyhow," said Adela.

She was very happy in his coming, and could not help showing it a little. Fortunately, it was tolerably certain (as she felt sometimes, intolerably certain) that Tom Loring would not notice anything. He never seemed to consider it possible that people might be particularly glad to see him.

"And you can stay, can't you?" she added.

"Oh, yes; I can stay a bit. I should like to. What made you send?"

"You know. I can't possibly describe it."

"Did Semingham notice it too?"

"Yes, he did, Mr. Loring. I distrust that man--Mr. Ruston I mean--utterly. And Maggie----"

"She's wrapped up in him?"

"Terribly. I tried to think it was his wretched Omof.a.ga; but it's not; it's him."

"Well, he's disposed of."

"Yes, indeed," she sighed, in complacent ignorance.

"I must go and see her, you know," said Tom, wrinkling his brow.

Adela laughed.

"What'll she say to me?" asked Tom anxiously.

"Oh, she'll be very pleasant."

"I shan't," said Tom with sudden decision.

Adela looked at him curiously.

"You mean to--to give her 'a bit of your mind?'"

"Well, yes," he answered, smiling. "I think so; don't you?"

"I should like to, if I dared."

"Why, you dare anything!" exclaimed Tom.

"Oh, no, I don't. I splash about a good deal, but I am a coward, really."

They relapsed into silence. Presently Tom began,

"It's been awfully dull in town; n.o.body to speak to, except Mrs.

Cormack."

"Mrs. Cormack!" cried Adela. "I thought you hated her?"

"Well, I've thought a little better of her lately."

"To think of your making friends with Mrs. Cormack!"

"I haven't made friends with her. She's not such a bad woman as you'd think, though."

"I think she's horrible," said Adela.

Tom gave it up.

"There was no one else," he pleaded.

"Well," retorted Adela, "when there is anyone else, you never come near them."

The grammar was confused, but Adela could not improve it, without being landed in unbearable plainness of speech.