THE NEED FOR INTUITION
In such a world as this, anything which is wholly sane is entirely
uninteresting. But--thank heaven for it!--madness is everywhere, in
every corner, at every turning. You will not even find complete sanity
in a Unitarian; in fact, some of the maddest people I have ever met have
been Unitarians. Yet theirs is an aggravating madness. You can have no
sympathy with a man who believes himself sane.
But anything more utterly irresponsible than this sudden, impulsive
departure of the Lady of St. Joseph can scarcely be imagined. John did
not even know her name and, what is more, did not even realise the fact
until she and Ronald had crossed the stretch of grass and reached the
Broad Walk. Then he ran after them.
Ronald turned first as he heard the hurrying footsteps. Anything
running will arrest the attention of a boy, while a woman hears, just as
quickly, but keeps her head rigid. Evidently, Ronald had told her. She
turned as well. John suddenly found himself face to face with her.
Then the impossible delicacy of the situation and his question came home
to him.
How, before Ronald, to whom he had just been introduced as a friend,
could he ask her name? Simplicity of mind is proverbial in those who
traffic in deep waters; but could the master of the good ship
_Albatross_ ever be so simple as not to find the suggestion of something
peculiar in such a question as this?
And so when he reached her side, he stood there despairingly dumb.
"You wanted to say something?" said she.
He looked helplessly at Ronald. Ronald looked helplessly at him. Then,
when he looked at her, he saw the helplessness in her eyes as well.
"What is it you want?" said her eyes--"I can't get rid of him. He's as
cunning as he can be."
And his eyes replied--"I want to know your name--I want to know who you
are." Which is a foolish thing to say with one's eyes, because no one
could possibly understand it. It might mean anything.
Then he launched a question at a venture. If she had any intuition, she
could guide it safe to port.
"I just wanted to ask," said John--"if you were any relation to
the--the----" At that moment the only name that entered his head was
Wrigglesworth, who kept a little eating-house in Fetter
Lane--"the--oh--what is their name!--the Merediths of Wrotham?"
He had just been reading "The Amazing Marriage." But where on earth was
Wrotham? Well, it must do.
She looked at him in amazement. She had not understood. Who could
blame her?
"The Merediths?" she repeated--"But why should you think----"
"Oh, yes--I know,"--he interposed quickly--"It's not the same
name--but--they--they have relations of your name--they told me
so--cousins or something like that, and I just wondered if--well, it
doesn't matter--you're not. Good-bye."
He lifted his hat and departed. For a moment there was a quite
unreasonable sense of disappointment in his mind. She was wanting in
intuition. She ought to have understood. Of course, in her bewilderment
at his question she had looked charming and that made up for a great
deal. How intensely charming she had looked! Her forehead when she
frowned--the eyes alight with questions. Anyhow, she had understood
that what he had really wanted to say could not be said before Ronald
and, into her confidence she had taken him--closing the door quite
softly behind them. Without question, without understanding, she had
done that. Perhaps it made up for everything.
Presently, he heard the hurrying of feet, and turned at once. How
wonderfully she ran--like a boy of twelve, with a clean stride and a
sure foot.
"I'm so sorry," she said in little breaths. "I didn't understand. The
Merediths and the Wrotham put me all out. It's Dealtry--Julie
Dealtry--they call me Jill. We live in Prince of Wales' Terrace." She
said the number. "Do they call you Jack? Good-bye--to-morrow." And
she was off.