"You know Sault, don't you? Isn't he a great friend of yours?"
She struggled up out of his arms. "Friend! Of course not. He is a
great friend of Christina's but not of mine. He is so old and
funny-looking. He has gray hair and he is quite dark--when I say
dark, I mean he is not a negro, but--well, dark."
"I understand. Not a friend of yours?"
"Of course not. There are times when I can't stand him! He doesn't
read or write, did you know that? Of course you do--and he has been
in prison, you told me that, too. If mother knew she would have a
fit. Why do you talk about him, Ronnie?"
"I've no special reason, only--"
"Only what, has he been talking about me?"
"Not to me, of course--he told a friend of mine that he didn't like
you to know me. It was a surprise to me that he was aware we were
friends. Did you tell him?"
"Me--I? Of course not. I never heard of such nerve! How dare he!"
"S-sh--don't get angry, darling. I'm sure he meant well. You have
to do something for me, Evie dear."
"Talking about me--!"
"What is the use?" He bent his head and kissed her. "It will be
easy for you to say that you've only met me once or twice--and that
you are not seeing me any more."
"But you--you _will_ see me, Ronnie?"
"Surely. You don't suppose that anything in the world will ever come
between us, do you? Not fifty Saults."
"It is Christina!" she said. "How mean of her to discuss me with
Sault! And I've done so much for her; brought her books from the
store and given her little things--I do think it is deceitful of her."
"Will you do as I ask?"
"Of course, Ronnie darling. I'll tell her that I've given you up.
But she is terribly sharp and I must be careful. I sleep in the same
room, ours is a very small house. I used to have a room of my own
until Sault came--the horrid old man. He is in love with Christina.
It does seem ridiculous, doesn't it, a man like that? Christina says
she isn't, but really--she is so deceitful."
"Will you tell her what I suggest?" he insisted.
"Yes--I'll tell her. As for Mr. Sault--"
"Leave me to deal with Mr. Sault," said Ronnie grandly.
Evie reached home, her little brain charged with conflicting
emotions. Her relief at meeting the man again, the happiness that
meeting had brought, her resentment at Sault's unwarranted
interference, her hurt from Christina's supposed duplicity and breach
of confidence, each contended for domination and each in turn
triumphed.
"I have given up Ronnie and I am not going to meet him again," she
said as she entered the room.
She was without finesse and Christina, instantly alert, was not
impressed. "This is very sudden. What has happened?"
"I've given him up!" Evie slammed her hat down on a rickety
dressing-table. She had no intention of letting the matter rest
there. Her annoyance with Sault must be expressed.
"If a girl cannot have a friendship without her own sister and her
sister's beastly friends making up all sorts of beastly stories about
her and breaking their sacred word, too, by telling beastly people
about their private affairs, then she'd better give up having
friendships," she said a trifle incoherently.
"I want to sort that out," said Christina, frowning, "the only thing
I'm perfectly sure about is that somebody is beastly. Do you mean
that people have been talking about you and your--Ronnie?"
Evie glowered at her. "You know--you know!" she blurted tremulously.
"You and Sault between you, trying to interfere in my--interfering in
my affairs."
"Oh," said Christina, "is that all?"
"Is that all! Don't you think it enough, parting Ronnie and I?
Breaking my heart, that is what you're doing!" she wailed. "I'll
never speak to Sault again. The old murderer--that's what he is, a
murderer! I'm going to tell mother and have him chucked out of the
house. We're not safe. Some night he'll come along with a knife and
cut our throats. A nigger murderer," she screamed. "He may be good
enough to be your fancy man, but he's not good enough for me!"
"Open the window and tell the street all about it," suggested
Christina. "You'll get an audience in no time. Go along! Open the
window! They would love to hear. Every woman in this street screams
her trouble sooner or later. The woman across the road was shouting
'murder' all last night. Be fashionable, Evie. Ronnie would love to
know that you made a hit in Walter Street."
Evie was weeping now. "You're horrible and vulgar, and I wish I was
dead! You've--you've parted Ronnie and I--you and Sault!"
"I don't think so," said Christina quietly, "my impression is that
you are saying what Ronnie told you to say."
"I swear--" began Evie.
"Don't swear, Evie, screech. It is more convincing. Ronnie told you
to say that you had given him up. What did Ambrose Sault do?"
"He went to a friend of Ronnie's with a lot of lies--about me and
Ronnie. And you must have told him, Christina. It was mean, mean,
mean of you!"
"He didn't want telling. He heard you the other night when you were
having hysterics and yelling 'Oh, Ronnie, Ronnie!' at the top of your
voice. You did everything except give Ronnie's address and telephone
number. Apart from that I did tell him. I wanted to know the kind
of man you're raving about. And your Ronnie is just dirt."
"Don't dare to say that--don't dare!"
"If mother didn't sleep like a dormouse she'd hear you--some people
think they can make black white if they shout 'black' loudly enough.
Ronald Morelle has a bad reputation with girls. I don't care if you
foam at the mouth, Evie, I'm going to say it. He is a blackguard!"
"Sault told you! Sault told you!" Evie's voice had a shrill thin
edge to it. "I know he did--a murderer--a nigger murderer, that is
what he is. Not fit to live under the same roof as me--I shall tell
Ronnie what he said--I'll tell him tomorrow, and then you'll see!"
"As you are permanently parted, I don't see how you will have an
opportunity of telling him," said Christina. "I could have told him
myself, today, I saw him."
"Saw him, how?" Evie was surprised into interest.
"With my eyes. Mr. Sault took me into Kensington Gardens and I saw
him--he pointed him out to me."
Evie smiled contemptuously. "That is where you and your damned Sault
were wrong," she said in triumph. "Ronnie has been working in his
flat all the afternoon! He was writing an article for _The
Statesman_!"
"He didn't seem to be working very hard when I saw him," said
Christina unmoved, "unless he was dictating his article to Miss
Merville. They were driving together. Mr. Sault said: 'There is
Morelle'--"
"He should have said 'Mister'."
"And I saw him. He is good-looking; the best looking man I have ever
seen."
"It wasn't Ronnie--I don't mean that Ronnie isn't good looking. He's
lovely. But it couldn't have been him. Besides, he hates that
Merville girl, at least he doesn't like her. You are only saying
this to make me jealous. How was he dressed?"
"So far as I could see, he wore a long-tailed coat--he certainly had
a top hat. Mr. Sault said that he thought he had been to Lady
Somebody-or-other's garden party. Mr. Steppe was going, but couldn't
get away."
"Now I know it wasn't Ronnie! He was wearing a blue suit--no, he
hadn't changed his clothes. He told me he didn't dress until an hour
before he met me. Sault is a--he must have been mistaken."