“Well,” he said, “I’m glad to hear that I’m right. I hoped I might meet you here. It’s a great pleasure to know you, Mrs. Pentland. My name is Gavin. … I’m by way of being a friend of Michael O’Hara.”
“Oh!” said Olivia. “How do you do?”
“You’re not in a great hurry, I hope?” he asked. “I’d like to have a word or two with you.”
“No, I’m not in a great hurry.”
It was impossible to imagine what this fussy little man, standing in the middle of the road, bowing and smiling, could have to say to her.
Still holding his hat in his hand, he tossed away the end of his cigar and said, “It’s about a very delicate matter, Mrs. Pentland. It has to do with Mr. O’Hara’s campaign. I suppose you know about that. You’re a friend of his, I believe?”
“Why, yes,” she said coldly. “We ride together.”
He coughed and, clearly ill at ease, set off on a tangent from the main subject. “You see, I’m a great friend of his. In fact, we grew up together … lived in the same ward and fought together as boys. You mightn’t think it to see us together … because he’s such a clever one. He’s made for big things and I’m not. … I’m … I’m just plain John Gavin. But we’re friends, all the same, just the same as ever … just as if he wasn’t a big man. That’s one thing about Michael. He never goes back on his old friends, no matter how great he gets to be.”
A light of adoration shone in the blue eyes of the little man. It was, Olivia thought, as if he were speaking of God; only clearly he thought of Michael O’Hara as greater than God. If Michael affected men like this, it was easy to see why he was so successful.
The little man kept interrupting himself with apologies. “I shan’t keep you long, Mrs. Pentland … only a moment. You see I thought it was better if I saw you here instead of coming to the house.” Suddenly screwing up his shiny face, he became intensely serious. “It’s like this, Mrs. Pentland. … I know you’re a good friend of his and you wish him well. You want to see him get elected … even though you people out here don’t hold much with the Democratic party.”
“Yes,” said Olivia. “That’s true.”
“Well,” he continued with a visible effort, “Michael’s a good friend of mine. I’m sort of a bodyguard to him. Of course, I never come out here. I don’t belong in this world. … I’d feel sort of funny out here.”
(Olivia found herself feeling respect for the little man. He was so simple and so honest and he so obviously worshiped Michael.)
“You see … I know all about Michael. I’ve been through a great deal with him … and he’s not himself just now. There’s something wrong. He ain’t interested in his work. He acts as if he’d be willing to chuck his whole career overboard … and I can’t let him do that. None of his friends … can’t let him do it. We can’t get him to take a proper interest in his affairs. Usually, he manages everything … better than anyone else could.” He became suddenly confidential, closing one eye. “D’you know what I think is the matter? I’ve been watching him and I’ve got an idea.”
He waited until Olivia said, “No … I haven’t the least idea.”
Cocking his head on one side and speaking with the air of having made a great discovery, he said, “Well, I think there’s a woman mixed up in it.”
She felt the blood mounting to her head, in spite of anything she could do. When she was able to speak, she asked, “Yes, and what am I to do?”
He moved a little nearer, still with the same air of confiding in her. “Well, this is my idea. Now, you’re a friend of his … you’ll understand. You see, the trouble is that it’s some woman here in Durham … some swell, you see, like yourself. That’s what makes it hard. He’s had women before, but they were women out of the ward and it didn’t make much difference. But this is different. He’s all upset, and …” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, I don’t like to say a thing like this about Michael, but I think his head is turned a little. That’s a mean thing to say, but then we’re all human, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” said Olivia softly. “Yes … in the end, we’re all human … even swells like me.” There was a twinkle of humor in her eye which for a moment disconcerted the little man.
“Well,” he went on, “he’s all upset about her and he’s no good for anything. Now, what I thought was this … that you could find out who this woman is and go to her and persuade her to lay off him for a time … to go away some place … at least until the campaign is over. It’d make a difference. D’you see?”
He looked at her boldly, as if what he had been saying was absolutely honest and direct, as if he really had not the faintest idea who this woman was, and beneath a sense of anger, Olivia was amused at the crude tact which had evolved this trick.
“There’s not much that I can do,” she said. “It’s a preposterous idea … but I’ll do what I can. I’ll try. I can’t promise anything. It lies with Mr. O’Hara, after all.”
“You see, Mrs. Pentland, if it ever got to be a scandal, it’d be the end of him. A woman out of the ward doesn’t matter so much, but a woman out here would be different. She’d get a lot of publicity from the sassiety editors and all. … That’s what’s dangerous.
