XLIV
Therenow 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 undulysensitive 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.