Winding Paths Part 22

"Sir Edwin Crathie?" in abashed tones.

"They called me Squib at school." He said it in a whimsical, humorous voice, looking down at her with very friendly eyes.

But Hal had grown silent.

"I'm afraid by your manner you do disapprove?"

"It is certainly embarra.s.sing. I would rather you had been... well, just any one."

"You'll get used to it," still with the twinkle in his eyes. "In the meantime you haven't answered my question. When will you come for another ride?"

She did not reply, and he leaned a little closer.

"You will come again?"

"I'm afraid Brother Dudley wouldn't like it"; and then they both laughed.

"Will you come in?" as they drew up before her door.

"I'm afraid I haven't time; and besides, I'm a little afraid of Brother Dudley. I only feel equal to the Prime Minister this evening."

She held out her hand.

"Well, thank you ever so much. You saved me from a dreadfully tight corner."

"The thanks should be all mine; you saved me from unmitigated boredom.

I curses my chauffeur for going down with 'flu' to-day, but now I fee ready to raise his salary for it."

He had pulled of his thick motoring-glove, and was holding her hand in a firm, lingering clasp, which she quickly cut short, tucking both her hands into her ulster pockets, and standing up very straight and slim in the lamplight.

"I'll have to go though the confessional now," she told him, "and sit on the stool of repentance for supper."

"No; don't repent; come again." He moved nearer.

"I'm naturally a very busy man, and I can't make engagements offhand, but I can easily get at you on the telephone. Will you come some afternoon, about half-past four?"

"I think you are very rash. How do you know I shall not bring the colours, and wave them wildly down the street, shouting 'Votes for Women'?"

"I'll risk it. Will you come?"

She moved away, latch-key in hand.

"I don't know. I won't promise, anyway. Good-bye, and my best thanks."

There was a rush of light through an open door, a last bright smile, and he found himself alone in the street.

CHAPTER XIII

When Hal entered the sitting-room and met Dudley's eyes she felt, as she afterwards described it to Lorraine, that she was in for it. Yet it was not so very late, barely half-past nine. On the table her supper was still waiting for her.

"We've had a slight accident," she said, taking the bully by the horns; "something went wrong with the steering gear, and it delayed us. Have you had supper?" noticing the table was still laid for two.

"I always have supper at eight on Sundays, because Mrs. White has to clear it away herself, as you know. Isn't d.i.c.k coming in?"

"No. He's -" Hall stopped short, considering the advantages of prevarication.

"I wanted to see him," testily. "He said he would give me a particular address to-night. Why is he in such a hurry?"

"It wasn't d.i.c.k who brought me."

She took off her motor-bonnet and threw it on the sofa, running her hands through her bright hair, and rubbing her cheeks, which were a little cold.

"Not d.i.c.k?..." Dudley looked up from his book peremptorily. "Who did bring you?"

Hal took her seat at the table.

"Well, you see, we had a slight accident. We had just stopped to examine the steering gear, when another car came round a curve and crashed into us. d.i.c.k's car was damaged, and..." she reached across for the salad, and helped herself with as unconcerned an air as she could muster... "Oh!... onions!... how scrumptious!... Mrs. White always remembers my plebeian tastes, but not my patrician ones."

"Well!" he suggested coldly. "d.i.c.k's car was damaged, and -"

"d.i.c.k had to stay and nurse it."

"Then dit you come home by train?"

"There was no train. There was nothing else."

"Nothing else than what?"

"Nothing but the car that run into us, or going to an inn for the night with d.i.c.k. I was afraid you wouldn't like that," with a mischievous gleam.

"My likes and dislikes are not, apparently, of the smallest moment to you, or you would not have been motoring late on Sunday at all."

"d.i.c.k can't go other days."

"Who was in this other car?"

"A man."

Again he glanced up quickly.

"Any one else?"

"No. His chauffeur is down with 'flu'."