THERE now remained for George Norris the task of taking a final leave
of the lady of his choice. Recent developments should have made
the task easy, but when it came to the point he found it supremely
difficult.
While The Dadda was still in the act of ascending the stairs George
offered the hand of farewell. “Good-by, Lady Elfreda.” This trying
business was like a chemist’s draught; let it be attacked at once and
got over quickly.
Lady Elfreda, however, had to be consulted in the matter of pace
and even in the mode of procedure. Completely ignoring the hand of
farewell she asked calmly with that leisureliness which was at times so
exasperating, “When do you start for East Africa?”
“I am going up to town to-morrow,” said George, “to see them at the War
Office. I’m hoping to get out pretty soon.”
“It’ll be very jolly if you do.” She looked at him with the odd
directness which sometimes was so delightful and sometimes so
disconcerting.
Her manner gave no hint of the gulf that had opened between them. He
was troubled exceedingly. Educated by the usage of a hard world he was
not unduly sensitive or inclined to take himself too seriously, but
still he was not proof altogether against a feeling of resentment. He
had been so properly fooled that her air of unconcern seemed an added
impertinence. Still, it was no use mounting the high horse. He must
grin and bear the blow. Perhaps the process would be a little easier
for the fact that in his own mind he was quite sure he didn’t really
deserve it.
George was still trying to make a final exit without loss of dignity
and Lady Elfreda in a subtle way seemed to be trying her utmost to
compromise it still further when Mrs. Minever arrived from the drawing
room. The young man was at such a serious disadvantage that he was
ready to welcome the lady of the house as an agent of providence. But
she, it seemed, was not so much prepared to offer a means of escape as
to fix still further the shackles of embarrassment upon him. She hoped
General Norris would stay to dinner.
Nothing was further from the wish or the intention of General Norris,
but for a reason only known to herself, Mrs. Minever was not at all
inclined to take a polite refusal. “The Laurels is on the telephone.
It will be easy to let them know--unless you have some particular
engagement? And the car shall take you there afterwards.”
The urgency of Mrs. Minever backed by the dynamic glance of the
enchantingly wicked Elfreda made it very difficult for George Norris to
be firm.
“But my clothes,” he said rather weakly, to end a pause which he felt
was undoing him.
Really, it was the feeblest of moves. The yellow chrysanthemum lady
merely cast a glance at the displays of ribands peeping shyly from
beneath his open overcoat. “I hope,” she said archly, “the King’s
uniform will always be good enough for us.”
George saw he was done. The light in the eye of the wicked Elfreda told
him so. Evidently some new game was in the wind--but in for a penny,
in for a pound! It was a moment for philosophy. Besides, a natural
appetite for adventure had been enormously whetted by the amazing
events of the past three hours.
There was no help for it. With a reluctance which in the depths of
his heart George Norris knew to be not wholly sincere he allowed Mrs.
Minever to lead him to the telephone.