I am glad to say that I suppressed the desire to ask him to use his
influence, if any, with Professor Derrick to effect a reconciliation.
I felt that I must play the game.
"I ought not to be speaking to you, you know," said Mr. Chase. "You're
under arrest."
"He's still--" I stopped for a word.
"Very much so. I'll do what I can."
"It's very good of you."
"But the time is not yet ripe. He may be said at present to be
simmering down."
"I see. Thanks. Good-by."
"So long."
And Mr. Chase walked on with long strides to the Cob.
* * * * *
The days passed slowly. I saw nothing more of Phyllis or her sister.
The professor I met once or twice on the links. I had taken earnestly
to golf in this time of stress. Golf, it has been said, is the game of
disappointed lovers. On the other hand, it has further been pointed
out that it does not follow that, because a man is a failure as a
lover, he will be any good at all on the links. My game was distinctly
poor at first. But a round or two put me back into my proper form,
which is fair. The professor's demeanor at these accidental meetings
on the links was a faithful reproduction of his attitude on the beach.
Only by a studied imitation of the absolute stranger did he show that
he had observed my presence.
Once or twice after dinner, when Ukridge was smoking one of his
special cigars while Mrs. Ukridge petted Edwin (now moving in society
once more, and in his right mind), I walked out across the fields
through the cool summer night till I came to the hedge that shut off
the Derricks' grounds. Not the hedge through which I had made my first
entrance, but another, lower, and nearer the house. Standing there
under the shade of a tree I could see the lighted windows of the
drawing-room.
Generally there was music inside, and, the windows being opened on
account of the warmth of the night, I was able to make myself a little
more miserable by hearing Phyllis sing. It deepened the feeling of
banishment.
I shall never forget those furtive visits. The intense stillness of
the night, broken by an occasional rustling in the grass or the hedge;
the smell of the flowers in the garden beyond; the distant drone of
the sea.
"God makes sech nights, all white and still,
Fur'z you can look and listen."
Another day had generally begun before I moved from my hiding place,
and started for home, surprised to find my limbs stiff and my clothes
bathed with dew.
Life seemed a poor institution during these days.