'When one comes to think of it the situation is intensely comic. Maisie's quite right--poor little thing. I didn't know she could cry like that before;but now I know what Torp thinks, I'm sure he'd be quite fool enough to stay at home and try to console me--if he knew. Besides, it isn't nice to own that you've been thrown over like a broken chair. I must carry this business through alone--as usual. If there isn't a war, and Torp finds out, I shall look foolish, that's all. If there is a way I mustn't interfere with another man's chances. Business is business, and I want to be alone--Iwant to be alone. What a row they're ******!'
Somebody hammered at the studio door.
'Come out and frolic, ****ie,' said the Nilghai.
'I should like to, but I can't. I'm not feeling frolicsome.'
'Then, I'll tell the boys and they'll drag you like a badger.'
'Please not, old man. On my word, I'd sooner be left alone just now.'
'Very good. Can we send anything in to you? Fizz, for instance.
Cassavetti is beginning to sing songs of the Sunny South already.'
For one minute **** considered the proposition seriously.
'No, thanks, I've a headache already.'
'Virtuous child. That's the effect of emotion on the young. All my congratulations, ****. I also was concerned in the conspiracy for your welfare.'
'Go to the devil--oh, send Binkie in here.'
The little dog entered on elastic feet, riotous from having been made much of all the evening. He had helped to sing the choruses; but scarcely inside the studio he realised that this was no place for tail-wagging, and settled himself on ****'s lap till it was bedtime. Then he went to bed with ****, who counted every hour as it struck, and rose in the morning with a painfully clear head to receive Torpenhow's more formal congratulations and a particular account of the last night's revels.
'You aren't looking very happy for a newly accepted man,' said Torpenhow.
'Never mind that--it's my own affair, and I'm all right. Do you really go?'
'Yes. With the old Central Southern as usual. They wired, and I accepted on better terms than before.'
'When do you start?'
'The day after to-morrow--for Brindisi.'
'Thank God.' **** spoke from the bottom of his heart.
'Well, that's not a pretty way of saying you're glad to get rid of me. But men in your condition are allowed to be selfish.'
'I didn't mean that. Will you get a hundred pounds cashed for me before you leave?'
'That's a slender amount for housekeeping, isn't it?'
'Oh, it's only for--marriage expenses.'
Torpenhow brought him the money, counted it out in fives and tens, and carefully put it away in the writing table.
'Now I suppose I shall have to listen to his ravings about his girl until Igo. Heaven send us patience with a man in love!' he said to himself.
But never a word did **** say of Maisie or marriage. He hung in the doorway of Torpenhow's room when the latter was packing and asked innumerable questions about the coming campaign, till Torpenhow began to feel annoyed.
'You're a secretive animal, ****ie, and you consume your own smoke, don't you?' he said on the last evening.
'I--I suppose so. By the way, how long do you think this war will last?'
'Days, weeks, or months. One can never tell. It may go on for years.'
'I wish I were going.'
'Good Heavens! You're the most unaccountable creature! Hasn't it occurred to you that you're going to be married--thanks to me?'
'Of course, yes. I'm going to be married--so I am. Going to be married.
I'm awfully grateful to you. Haven't I told you that?'
'You might be going to be hanged by the look of you,' said Torpenhow.
And the next day Torpenhow bade him good-bye and left him to the loneliness he had so much desired.
