XXI
Bythe time that Girlie, homeward bound, had reached the Pendennis Arms at Clavering, she realized that even if the erratic vehicle which went by the gates of the Park was prepared to start immediately, luncheon would be over by the time she got back. She made up her mind accordingly “to go the whole hog,” and proceeded to regale herself with a cup of tea and a war bun at an adjacent confectioner’s. Then, after an hour’s inspection of the small and sleepy town, she set her face towards her temporary home.
She was in no hurry to get there. For one thing she had to evolve some sort of excuse that would cover the fact of her absence from the luncheon table. Again, she had to decide the question whether it was absolutely necessary to return at all. Why not bolt? It would not be difficult. There was a little, only a very little money in her purse, it was true. Should she accept this as the price of her career? That was the question. Just now almost anything seemed better than to return and meet the public exposure which could not long be delayed.
At a bend of the leaf-strewn road, where beyond a rich expanse of park land the imposing chimneys ofthe Hall rose into view, she suddenly stopped to grapple once again with this sore problem. Only too clearly did she realize that flight was her only chance. As far as she was concerned there could be no other solution. It would be a base betrayal of Lady Elfreda, yet Girlie saw now with painful clearness that her new acquaintance was far too dangerous to be regarded as a friend.
The young woman masquerading at The Laurels was entitled to such small consideration that Girlie felt she could square her conscience on that point at least. But now that her thoughts were centered upon running away, she was met by the fact that she had given up her rooms at Laxton, that she had lost her situation, that she had nowhere to go. In the lee of the park wall there followed a tense five minutes of mental conflict. In the end it may have been her odd strain of megalomania that decided the question. Certainly that fatal flaw had much to answer for. Let her rise to the height of opportunity! Let her not be afraid of life, but drink bravely of the cup of high experience!
Finally, swayed no doubt by these perilous ideas, she passed on by the park wall and through the lodge gates. Defiant of fate and all its machinations, she went straight to her room to tidy herself for tea. In the act of doing so she could not help marveling at her own cynicism. It was so incredible that she could not recognize herself. While she changed her dress and rearrangedher hair she began to evolve some sort of a story to cover her absence. As soon as she appeared in the hall she had, of course, to run the gauntlet.
“My dear Lady Elfreda,” cried the yellow chrysanthemum lady at the pitch of humorous expostulation, “wherehaveyou been?”
Girlie hardened her heart. “Into Clavering.” Her courage rose to a dogged defiance. “To do some shopping. I am so sorry. I ought to have told you.”
“But your luncheon?” Mrs. Minever’s face was a study. “Where did you get it?”
“At a tea shop.”
The half amused eyes of the hostess suddenly encountered those of Mrs. Spencer-Jobling. Among her fellow guests the theory was growing that not only was Lady Elfreda suffering from a queer form of “side” but also that she was a little “cracked.” Certainly her manner was most odd and her behavior matched it.
Girlie, however, was now at bay. She took her seat in the midst of her critics, sipped tea and pecked at bread and butter. Never in her life had she felt so wretched. The affair was getting unbearable. As she suffered the rather scathing politeness of Mrs. Spencer-Jobling and the icy tones of the other ladies her mind ran upon suicide. But the demon within bade her go on. There was Shelley’s authority that what poets learn in suffering they teach in song. Of novelists, no doubt, that maxim was equally true.