He hadn't. He knew how he stood with her, how he felt about her; but
whether it amounted to liking or not liking he had not yet inquired.
But that instant he perceived that he did not like her, and he lied.
"Of course I like her. Why shouldn't I?"
"Because"--she was very slow about it--"somehow I should have said
that you were not that sort."
Her light on him came halting, obscured, shivering with all the
vibrations of her voice; but he could see through it, down to the
sources of her thinking, to something secret, luminous, and
profound--her light on Philippa.
She was instantly aware of what she had let him see.
"Oh," she cried, "that was horrid of me. It was feline."
"It was a little," he admitted.
"It's because I know she doesn't like me."
"Why not say at once it's because you don't like her?"
Her eyes, full, lucid, charged with meaning, flashed to him. She
leaped at the chance he offered her to be sincere.
"I don't," she said. "How can I?"
She talked again of trifles, to destroy all cohesion between that
utterance and her next.
"I say, I want you to do something for me. I want you to look after
Furny."
"To look after him?"
"To stand by him, if--if he has a bad time."
He promised her. And then Miss Tarrant claimed him. She was in her
mood of yesterday; but the charm no longer worked on him; he did not
find her adorable that morning.
After a longish round they were overtaken by Brocklebank in his
motor-car. He and Furnival were returning from the station after
seeing Mrs. Viveash off (Furny had had the decency to see her off).
Brocklebank gave a joyous shout and pulled up two yards in front of
them.
As they stood beside the car Straker noticed that Furnival's face
had a queer, mottled look, and that the muscles of his jaw were set
in an immobility of which he could hardly have believed him
capable. He was actually trying to look as if he didn't see Miss
Tarrant. And Miss Tarrant was looking straight at him.
Brocklebank wanted to know if Miss Tarrant cared for a run across
the Hog's Back before luncheon.
Miss Tarrant did care--if Mr. Straker did.
Furnival had got down from his seat beside Brocklebank and had
opened the door of the car, ignoring Straker. He had managed in his
descent to preserve his attitude of distance, so much so that
Straker was amazed to see him enter the car after Miss Tarrant and
take his, Straker's, place beside her. He accomplished this maneuver
in silence, and with an air so withdrawn, so obscurely predestined,
that he seemed innocent of all offense. It was as if he had acted
from some malign compulsion of which he was unaware.
Now Brocklebank in his motor was an earnest and a silent man.
Straker, left to himself, caught fragments of conversation in the
rear. Miss Tarrant began it.
"Why did you give up your seat?"
"You see why," said Furnival.
Straker could see him saying it, flushed and fervent. Then Furnival
went one better, and overdid it.
"There's nothing I wouldn't give up for a chance like this."
Straker heard Philippa laughing softly. He knew she meant him to
hear her, he knew she was saying to him, "Could anything be more
absurd than the creature that I've got in here?"
There was a pause, and then Furnival broke out again:
"I've seen Mrs. Viveash off."
"That," said Miss Tarrant reprovingly, "was the least you could
do."
Furnival made that little fierce, inarticulate sound of his before
he spoke. "I hope you're satisfied. I hope I've done enough to
please you."
"Oh, quite enough. I shouldn't attempt to do _anything_ more if I
were you."
After that there was silence, in which Straker felt that Furnival
was raging.