RUSHING TO CONCLUSIONS
_In a First-class Compartment._
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Formidable old party opposite me in the
furs! Nice-looking girl over in the corner; not a patch on my Emma,
though! Wonder why I catch 'em sampling me over their papers whenever
I look up! Can't be anything wrong with my turn out. Why, of course,
they heard Tom talk about my going down to Wyvern Court; think I'm a
visitor there and no end of a duke! Well, what snobs some people are,
to be sure!
_Lady Cantire_ (_to herself_). So this is the young poet I made
Albinia ask to meet me. I can't be mistaken, I distinctly heard his
friend mention _Andromeda_. H'm, well, it's a comfort to find he's
_clean_! Have I read his poetry or not? I know I _had_ the book,
because I distinctly remember telling Maisie she wasn't to read
it--but--well, that's of no consequence. He looks clever and quite
respectable--not in the least picturesque--which is fortunate. I was
beginning to doubt whether it was quite prudent to bring Maisie; but I
needn't have worried myself.
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). Here, actually in the same carriage!
Does he guess who _I_ am? Somehow---- Well, he certainly _is_ different
from what I expected. I thought he would show more signs of having
thought and suffered; for he _must_ have suffered to write as he does.
If mamma knew I had read his poems; that I had actually written to beg
him not to refuse Aunt Albinia's invitation! He never wrote back. Of
course I didn't put any address; but still, he could have found out
from the Red Book if he'd cared. I'm rather glad now he _didn't_ care.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Old girl seems as if she meant to be
sociable; better give her an opening. (_Aloud._) Hem! would you like
the window down an inch or two?
_Lady Cantire._ Not on _my_ account, thank you.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Broke the ice, anyway. (_Aloud._) Oh, _I_
don't want it down, but some people have such a mania for fresh air.
_Lady Cantire_ (_with a dignified little shiver_). Have they? With a
temperature as glacial as it is in here! They must be maniacs indeed!
_Spurrell._ Well, it _is_ chilly; been raw all day. (_To himself._)
She don't answer. I _haven't_ broken the ice.
[_He produces a memorandum book._
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He hasn't said anything _very_ original
yet. So _nice_ of him not to pose! Oh, he's got a note-book; he's
going to compose a poem. How interesting!
[Illustration: "HE'S GOING TO COMPOSE A POEM. HOW
INTERESTING!"]
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Yes, I'm all right if Heliograph wins the
Lincolnshire Handicap; lucky to get on at the price I did. Wonder
what's the latest about the City and Suburban? Let's see whether the
Pink Un has anything about it.
[_He refers to the Sporting Times._
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). The inspiration's stopped--_what_ a
pity! How odd of him to read the _Globe_! I thought he was a Democrat!
_Lady Cantire._ Maisie, there's quite a clever little notice in
_Society Snippets_ about the dance at Skympings last week. I'm sure I
wonder how they pick up these things; it quite bears out what I was
told; says the supper arrangements were "simply disgraceful; not
nearly enough champagne; and what there was, undrinkable!" So _like_
poor dear Lady Chesepare; never _does_ do things like anybody else.
I'm sure _I've_ given her hints enough!
_Spurrell_ (_to himself, with a suppressed grin_). Wants to let me see
_she_ knows some swells. Now _ain't_ that paltry?
_Lady Cantire_ (_tendering the paper_). Would you like to see it,
Maisie? Just this bit here; where my finger is.
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, flushing_). I saw him smile. What _must_
he think of us, with his splendid scorn for rank? (_Aloud._) No, thank
you, mamma: such a wretched light to read by!
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Chance for _me_ to cut in! (_Aloud._)
Beastly light, isn't it? 'Pon my word, the company ought to provide us
with a dog and string apiece when we get out!
_Lady Cantire_ (_bringing a pair of long-handled glasses to bear upon
him_). I happen to hold shares in this line. May I ask _why_ you
consider a provision of dogs and string at all the stations a
necessary or desirable expenditure?
_Spurrell._ Oh--er--well, you know, I only meant, bring on _blindness_
and that. Harmless attempt at a joke, that's all.
_Lady Cantire._ I see. I scarcely expected that _you_ would condescend
to such weakness. I--ah--think you are going down to stay at Wyvern
for a few days, are you not?
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I was right. What Tom said _did_ fetch the
old girl; no harm in humouring her a bit. (_Aloud._) Yes--oh yes,
they--aw--wanted me to run down when I could.
_Lady Cantire._ I heard they were expecting you. You will find Wyvern
a pleasant house--for a short visit.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). _She_ heard! Oh, she wants to kid me she
knows the Culverins. Rats! (_Aloud._) Shall I, though? I dare say.
_Lady Cantire._ Lady Culverin is a very sweet woman; a little limited,
perhaps, not intellectual, or quite what one would call the _grande
dame_; but perhaps _that_ could scarcely be expected.
_Spurrell_ (_vaguely_). Oh, of course not--no. (_To himself._) If she
bluffs, so can I! (_Aloud._) It's funny your turning out to be an
acquaintance of Lady C.'s, though.
_Lady Cantire._ You think so? But I should hardly call myself an
_acquaintance_.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Old cat's trying to back out of it now; she
shan't, though! (_Aloud._) Oh, then I suppose you know Sir Rupert
best?
_Lady Cantire._ Yes, I certainly know Sir Rupert better.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Oh, you do, do you? We'll see. (_Aloud._)
Nice cheery old chap, Sir Rupert, isn't he? I must tell him I
travelled down in the same carriage with a particular friend of his.
(_To himself._) That'll make her sit up!
_Lady Cantire._ Oh, then you and my brother Rupert have met already?
_Spurrell_ (_aghast_). Your brother! Sir Rupert Culverin your----!
Excuse me--if I'd only known, I--I do assure you I never should have
dreamt of saying----!
_Lady Cantire_ (_graciously_). You've said nothing whatever to
distress yourself about. You couldn't possibly be expected to know who
I was. Perhaps I had better tell you at once that I am Lady Cantire,
and this is my daughter, Lady Maisie Mull. (SPURRELL _returns_ Lady
MAISIE'S _little bow in the deepest confusion_.) We are going down to
Wyvern too, so I hope we shall very soon become better acquainted.
_Spurrell_ (_to himself, overwhelmed_). The deuce we shall! I _have_
got myself into a hole this time; I wish I could see my way well out
of it! Why on earth couldn't I hold my confounded tongue? I _shall_
look an ass when I tell 'em.
[_He sits staring at them in silent embarrassment._
_In a Second-class Compartment._
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Singularly attractive face this girl has;
so piquant and so refined! I can't help fancying she is studying me
under her eyelashes. She has remarkably bright eyes. Can she be
interested in me? Does she expect me to talk to her? There are only
she and I--but no, just now I would rather be alone with my thoughts.
This Maisie Mull whom I shall meet so soon; what is _she_ like, I
wonder? I presume she is unmarried. If I may judge from her artless
little letter, she is young and enthusiastic, and she is a passionate
admirer of my verse; she is longing to meet me. I suppose some men's
vanity would be flattered by a tribute like that. I think I must have
none; for it leaves me strangely cold. I did not even reply; it struck
me that it would be difficult to do so with any dignity, and she
didn't tell me where to write to.... After all, how do I know that
this will not end--like everything else--in disillusion? Will not such
crude girlish adoration pall upon me in time? If she were
exceptionally lovely; or say, even as charming as this fair
fellow-passenger of mine--why then, to be sure--but no, something
warns me that that is not to be. I shall find her plain, sandy,
freckled; she will render me ridiculous by her undiscriminating
gush.... Yes, I feel my heart sink more and more at the prospect of
this visit. Ah me!
[_He sighs heavily._
_His Fellow Passenger_ (_to herself_). It's too silly to be sitting
here like a pair of images, considering that---- (_Aloud._) I hope you
aren't feeling unwell?
_Undershell._ Thank you, no, not unwell. I was merely thinking.
_His Fellow Passenger._ You don't seem very cheerful over it, I must
say. I've no wish to be inquisitive, but perhaps you're feeling a
little low-spirited about the place you're going to?
_Undershell._ I--I must confess I am rather dreading the prospect. How
wonderful that you should have guessed it!
_His Fellow Passenger._ Oh, I've been through it myself. I'm just the
same when _I_ go down to a new place; feel a sort of sinking, you
know, as if the people were sure to be disagreeable, and I should
never get on with them.
_Undershell._ _Exactly_ my own sensations! If I could only be sure of
finding _one_ kindred spirit, one soul who would help and understand
me. But I daren't let myself hope even for that!
_His Fellow Passenger._ Well, I wouldn't judge beforehand. The chances
are there'll be _somebody_ you can take to.
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). What sympathy! What bright, cheerful
common sense! (_Aloud._) Do you know, you encourage me more than you
can possibly imagine!
_His Fellow Passenger_ (_retreating_). Oh, if you are going to take my
remarks like _that_, I shall be afraid to go on talking to you!
_Undershell_ (_with pathos_). Don't--_don't_ be afraid to talk to me!
If you only knew the comfort you give! I have found life very sad,
very solitary. And true sympathy is so rare, so refreshing. I--I fear
such an appeal from a stranger may seem a little startling; it is true
that hitherto we have only exchanged a very few sentences; and yet
already I feel that we have something--much--in common. You can't be
so cruel as to let all intimacy cease here--it is quite tantalising
enough that it must end so soon. A very few more minutes, and this
brief episode will be only a memory; I shall have left the little
green oasis far behind me, and be facing the dreary desert once
more--alone!
_His Fellow Passenger_ (_laughing_). Well, of all the uncomplimentary
things! As it happens, though, "the little green oasis"--as you're
kind enough to call me--_won't_ be left behind; not if it's aware of
it! I think I heard your friend mention Wyvern Court! Well, that's
where _I'm_ going.
_Undershell_ (_excitedly_). You--_you_ are going to Wyvern Court! Why,
then, you must be----
[_He checks himself._
_His Fellow Passenger._ What were you going to say; _what_ must I be?
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). There is no doubt about it; bright,
independent girl; gloves a trifle worn; travels second-class for
economy; it must be Miss Mull herself; her letter mentioned Lady
Culverin as her aunt. A poor relation, probably. She doesn't suspect
that I am---- I won't reveal myself just yet; better let it dawn upon
her gradually. (_Aloud._) Why, I was only about to say, why then you
must be going to the same house as I am. How extremely fortunate a
coincidence!
_His Fellow Passenger._ That remains to be seen. (_To herself._) What
a funny little man; such a flowery way of talking for a footman. Oh,
but I forgot; he said he _wasn't_ going to wear livery. Well, he
_would_ look a sight in it!