She didn’t speak; but he could feel her warm breath on his face.
He sat absolutely motionless for a moment, then he freed his hand, and said with strained courtesy:
“You are wasting your time, I assure you.”
He took her hand away from his cheek, but she went on pressing close against his side, as if determined that he would not be unaware of her nearness or her charms.
“Mrs. Wallis, please be good enough to realise that this is quite pointless,” he said more firmly.
The chauffeur in front of the glass partition could not hear any of this.
“Mrs. Wallis!” Now Jolly was sharp.
She let him go, but before he realised what she was going to do, moved again, seized his face between her hands, pulled his head down, and kissed him. He felt the soft warmth of her lips, the sharpness of her teeth as he struggled to free his head, but she had him in a hold that was hard to break.
“You’re so sweet,” she said, cooingly, “you’re so quaint, darling, why don’t you relax a little? No one would mind if you just relaxed.” She kissed him again, lingeringly, and his head was still imprisoned. He could not free himself without hurting her. “Just relax, darling,” she breathed, and he could only just see her face and her eyes as she looked at him.
He could stand outside himself, as it were, and see all this, the absurdity of it, the ludicrousness. He, Jolly, in charge of this woman, helpless under her grasp, fighting against her blandishments. He felt worse than he had ever felt in his life. He must stop her nonsense, it mustn’t matter if he hurt her. He took her wrist at last, and twisted sharply, and she gasped and fell back.
“I am sorry,” he said stiffly. “You left me no choice.”
She looked at him intently, showing no resentment.
“Poor, poor darling,” she said in that soft, cooing voice. “Aren’t you allowed any life of your own? Do you have to do everything that Rollison tells you? Won’t he even let you have a kiss or a little cuddle without permission? Why don’t you be a
“This discussion is quite pointless.”
Stella Wallis gave a curiously cooing laugh, and Jolly felt its barb and knew that in a way she was right: he was behaving like a pompous prig. He had to. He was serving Rollison, and had to take this woman to the cottage. She did not exist as a woman, simply as a prisoner of the Toffs, so he dare not relax. It did not matter how much of a fool she made him feel. At least there was only half an hour or so longer.
He could draw the driver’s attention, but the man was concentrating on the out-of-town traffic, and Jolly did not want to look a fool as well as feel one.
“Jolly,” Mrs. Wallis said, and slid her hand to his again. “Don’t be silly, pet, you—”
She stopped abruptly, to stifle a yawn. Jolly’s hopes rose. She would soon lose consciousness, and the embarrassing business could be forgotten.
She pressed close against him again.
“Jolly, honey, you really are so sweet,” she said huskily. “You’re wasted working for a man like Rollison—why don’t you relax, and be nice to me? I’ll put in a word for you with Tiny, you won’t get hurt.”
Will you kindly take your hand away, madam, sit back in the corner, and stop behaving like a woman of the streets.”
She drew back abruptly, and next moment she sneered:
Tut I’m not that kind of a woman, Jolly, I’m very particular about my men friends. Do you know what will happen to you when my husband hears that you took me away?”
“Your husband will doubtless spend most of the rest of his life in prison, where he most rightly belongs,” Jolly said coldly.
She stared, then laughed again. This time he could feel her quivering, as if she was helpless with the laughter. She patted the back of his hand, instead of squeezing, and said marvellingly:
“You’re wonderful, Jolly, you’re priceless! I didn’t think that anyone like you still lived. It’s such a pity.”
She kept still in her corner for some minutes, and Jolly began to breathe more freely, but he was still too close to her to feel that the absurd crisis was over. He smoothed back his ruffled hair, and was tempted to wipe the lipstick off his lips, for he could feel it on them; but he did not. There was probably lipstick on his shirt and collar, too; he must never be seen like this.
“Jolly,” the woman said, “how about telling the driver to turn round and take me home?”
“That is impossible, and you know it.”
“It would be worth a pony, Jolly.”
“Fifty pounds or five hundred, that is immaterial,” Jolly said, and realised that he still sounded like a pompous fool, but he could not prevent himself. “Will you kindly resign yourself to the fact—”
She began to laugh again.
In the middle of the laughter, while his face was going scarlet, and he had to restrain himself from slapping her, she yawned. This time she couldn’t suppress it; she realised that and was frightened. She clutched Jolly’s hands, but this was no part of an attempt to seduce him, he could sense her fear.
Now don’t worry, you’ll be quite all right,” he said in a much more normal voice.
“You don’t know Tiny,” Stella said, and her voice quivered helplessly. “You don’t know—” She fell forward against him, dead to the world.
