“My dear, it’s ridiculous to work yourself into such a state. You know perfectly well I’m terribly busy. I’ve not had a single moment.”
“Where were you last night?”
“I worked until late, if you must know, and then went to bed.”
“How do I know that you’re speaking the truth?” Her voice was hard, suspicious. She could imagine the shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh, hell! If you’re in that sort of mood, goodbye.”
“No, no! I didn’t mean it! Don’t go! I am a fool.” She clung to the receiver as though she was with him.
“Well, damn it! You make things so difficult. What do you think I did?” There was a pause.
The woman fumbled for her handkerchief; she felt her mouth drag at the corner.
“What—what are you doing today?” she began desperately.
“Literally haven’t a moment today,” answered the voice briskly. “I’m up to my eyes in work. I’ve got to finish a story for an American paper.”
“Couldn’t I—couldn’t I come and sit with you?”
“No. I can’t work with anyone round; you must know that by now.”
“What about this evening, or a second for lunch today? I’ve kept it absolutely free, thinking we should be together. I’m going off my head these long, empty days; this endless rain, this never seeing you for one single moment.”
“I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
How far the voice sounded, how distant! If only she could be with him now!
“If you only knew how much I love you!” she said.
He moved restlessly and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“Listen. What’s the use of all this? I’ve got to do some work.”
“Then we aren’t going to see each other at all today? I might just as well go away, go abroad, go right away from you. You don’t care if you never see me again; you hate the sight of me; you. …”
The senseless words poured from her mouth.
He closed his eyes wearily and yawned.
“Why go into all that now? You know how I hate scenes—discussions. Why are you complaining? After all, we’ve had a good time; it’s been good fun; we haven’t hurt anybody. What’s the point of all this tangle of nerves?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be tiresome, only it’s never seeing you, never hearing you. Swear you aren’t angry—promise you aren’t angry. You see, I’ve been so unhappy. I’m loathsome, selfish—and you have your work. But if perhaps—loving you as I do—you. …”
“Well, look. I’ll ring some time later in the week. Goodbye.”
She jabbed furiously at the receiver.
“Wait—wait! What are you doing tomorrow at half-past three?”
But there was no reply.
She straightened her hat and wandered uncertainly away.
He rang the bell for the hotel exchange. “I say, if anyone rings again, say I’m working and can’t be disturbed.”
He stood before the window and watched the rain. What an effort it was, this continual being … If one told the truth for one moment there was the devil to pay. Women were a cope—a decided cope. Still, difficult to live without them—one way and another.
He glanced at the letter that had arrived with his breakfast.
“… And I’m so anxious for you to meet him, because he really is the most important publisher today. Naturally, a genius like you will find your feet anyway, but it does help to get in with the right people. Anyway, lunch at one as usual at the same place. No one will recognise me there. Isn’t convention vile? I would like to shout about us from the housetops, and then we have to sneak to our meetings as though we were ashamed of the most marvellous thing in the world.
“Darling, when I think of last night I …”
Good lord! there were three—no, four pages of this. What a woman!
He placed the letter carefully in his notecase. One never knew … All the same, she must not shout things from the housetops. Sort of damn silly thing a woman would do. Still, she did not yet telephone him every hour of the day like the last one. She was very lovely—and very useful.
He wound up the gramophone that she had given him. He supposed he would be able to use her car again today. Impossible to walk a step in this rain. She had suggested giving him a car of his own.
Yes, she really was rather wonderful. He lounged in the chair while the record whispered in his ear:
“And that’s why Chinks do it—Japs do it.”
“Oh, but you look marvellous!” he told her; “marvellous! Shall we take this little table in the corner?—and then there will be no chance of anyone seeing us. Isn’t that a new hat? But, of course, I adore it; I adore everything you wear.”
She felt for his hand under the table and sighed.
“You know, sweetheart, when you talk to me like this I feel like chucking up everything and just going away with you. After all, what does scandal matter? We love each other. I don’t care about losing my money; we could live in a garret, in a-tent.”
He forced a laugh. “Aren’t you wonderful!”
Surely she would never dream of losing her head to such an appalling extent! Women had no sense of proportion at all.
“Just think, you and I starving in a garret,” she went on dreamily.
“Yes, but it would be the action of a cad,” he said quickly. “I should never forgive myself. How could I be so brutal to drag you away from all your comforts and luxury! It would be criminal.”
He struck his fist upon the table. He almost believed it himself.
“No,” he continued gently, “we must try and content ourselves with things as they are. One day—oh, one day …”
He looked into her eyes. He could say this so many times, and it invariably rang true.
“You know,” he said, as he glanced down the menu and chose mixed grill at 1s. 9d.—she might expect him to pay—“you know, I don’t believe any two lovers have ever understood one another as we do. I can’t explain; it’s something that comes from
