When Hal entered the sitting-room and met Dudley's eyes she felt, as she afterwards described it to Lorraine, that she was in for it. Yet it was not so very late, barely half-past nine. On the table her supper was still waiting for her.
"We've had a slight accident," she said, taking the bul y by the horns;
"something went wrong with the steering gear, and it delayed us. Have you had supper?" noticing the table was stil laid for two.
"I always have supper at eight on Sundays, because Mrs. White has to clear it away herself, as you know. Isn't Dick coming in?"
"No. He's -" Hal stopped short, considering the advantages of prevarication.
"I wanted to see him," testily. "He said he would give me a particular address to-night. Why is he in such a hurry?"
"It wasn't Dick who brought me."
She took off her motor-bonnet and threw it on the sofa, running her hands through her bright hair, and rubbing her cheeks, which were a little cold.
"Not Dick?..." Dudley looked up from his book peremptorily. "Who did bring you?"
Hal took her seat at the table.
"Well, you see, we had a slight accident. We had just stopped to examine the steering gear, when another car came round a curve and crashed into us. Dick's car was damaged, and..." she reached across for the salad, and helped herself with as unconcerned an air as she could muster... "Oh!... onions!... how scrumptious!... Mrs. White always remembers my plebeian tastes, but not my patrician ones."
"Well!" he suggested coldly. "Dick's car was damaged, and -"
"Dick had to stay and nurse it."
"Then dit you come home by train?"
"There was no train. There was nothing else."
"Nothing else than what?"
"Nothing but the car that run into us, or going to an inn for the night with Dick. I was afraid you wouldn't like that," with a mischievous gleam.
"My likes and dislikes are not, apparently, of the smal est moment to you, or you would not have been motoring late on Sunday at all."
"Dick can't go other days."
"Who was in this other car?"
"A man."
Again he glanced up quickly.
"Any one else?"
"No. His chauffeur is down with 'flu'."
"Was it some one you knew, then?"
"No. He told me on the way in."
"Am I to gather that you returned to London alone, in a motor-car, with a perfect stranger?"
"I'm afraid you are."
"Why didn't Dick come with you? Surely if he takes you out for the day he might at least see you safely home. I never heard of such proceedings in my life. The man might have been a positive blackguard.
Had you any idea who he was?"
"No, none; but what's the use of making a fuss! It's al right now, and I'm safely at home; which is surely better than being in some weird vil age al night, and you wondering what on earth had become of me."
"That is not the question. It's the whole circumstance from beginning to end. I consider Dick's behaviour most reprehensible."
"He couldn't leave his car alone there in the middle of a Kentish high road. He had to stay somewhere near."
"I think he should have considered you of more importance than the car.
To let you return alone, at that hour, with a perfect stranger, is the most unheard of proceeding. I shal certainly tel Dick what I think of him."
"It wasn't Dick's fault," loyally. "I just took the matter into my own hands and came. Dick had nothing to do with it. In fact, I insisted upon his remaining behind."
"Oh, of course you would. You only seem to be happy when you are flying in the face of some convention or other. But Dick is older than you, and he knows my views on these matters. He owed it to me to see you safely home."
"But since I am safely home!..." obstinately.
"You very well might not have been. What the stranger himself must think of you I don't know. Have you any idea who he was?"
"Yes. Sir Edwin Crathie?"
"Sir Edwin Crathie! Do you mean the Cabinet Minister?"
"So he said."
"And did you tel him who you were?"
Again there was a gleam under the lowered lashes.
"I did; but I can't say he either recognised our historie name or seemed much impressed. I real y don't believe he had ever heard of me."
Dudley refused to smile. Instead the frown deepened on his face.
"That is probably just as wel . Your actions of late cannot be said to be entirely to your credit. What is this tale about Thursday night? I met St. Quintin's father with Uncle Bruce this morning in the Park.
You told me Quin's aunt was going to chaperone you. Did she or did she not?"
"I told you Lady Bounce was going to chaperone me. Lady Bounce _did_
chaperone me."
"Is Lady Bounce Quin's aunt?"
"That depends." Hal pushed away her chair, wishing vaguely that fathers and uncles would mind their own business. Either incident alone she could have coped with, but it was a distinct imposition to expect her to manage both at once, and on Sunday night into the bargain.
"I can only presume you lent yourself to such a vulgar proceeding as Quin dressing up as a woman and acting chaperone. Is that the truth?"
"Not entirely. You see, he wasn't an ordinary woman. He went as his aunt, Lady Phyllis Fenton. His personification was a masterpiece."
Dudley began to pace the room. His thin lips were compressed into a straight line, and his whole air distincly worried.
"What you seem quite unable to perceive is the way in which these incidents reflect upon your good taste and upon my guardianship."
Hal grew suddenly nettled.
"It is nonsense to talk of guardianship now. I am twenty-five, and I earn my own living. I am perfectly wel able to take care of myself."
"No; that is just what you are not. You are so rash and inconsequent."
"Well, anyhow I get a good deal out of my life, while you -"
He remembered his own Thursday evening and intercepted:
"It is possible to get a great deal out of life without outraging every convention. Do you imagine either Ethel or Doris Hayward would do the wild things you do?"
"Ethel Hayward is a brick. She couldn't be straitlaced anyhow, nor narrow-minded. Doris would do anything under the sun that suited her own ends."
She got up, and turned away without perceiving his frown, beginning to gather up her paraphernalia. He stopped short in his walk.
"If it real y was Sir Edwin Crathie who brought you home, I must write and thank him, I think."
"I shouldn't bother; probably it wasn't him at all; only some third-rate actor."
Dudley tried to see her face, not sure if she was serious or not, but she kept her head averted as she added:
"Quite possibly it was Lord Bounce."
"You are always treating a serious subject with levity," he complained.
"What am I to think? Do you or do you not believe your escort was Sir Edwin Crathie?"
"Well, as he was awfully afraid I might be a militant suffragette, I think he really was a Cabinet Minister."
"I hope you entirely undeceived him on that score," drily.
"Not at al . I told him I was tingling to scratch him and bite him,"
and the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
Dudley relapsed into silent displeasure, and for a few moments neither spoke. Then Hal, with her garments on her arm, came round to him with a frank, affectionate air.
"Dudley, don't make mountains out of molehills over nothing. I know I am a little wild. I can't help it - we seem to have got mixed up somehow. You've got al the decorum and nice, refined feelings of a charming woman, and I've got the enterprise and 'don't-care' spirit of a man. It isn't any use fighting against facts. You must take me as I am, and make the best of it. I can't change now; and I don't know that I would if I could."
"I don't suppose you would. You positively glory in the very traits that I deplore"; but his voice sounded mollified.
"Oh well, old man, you wouldn't like me to be helpless, and foolish, and wool y-lambified, would you? It wouldn't be half so interesting.
Just fancy if you had a sister like Doris Hayward, can you imagine anything tamer?"
He stiffened again, but she did not notice it.
"As for Thursday night, you never ought to have heard about it, and you never would have done if Uncle Bruce had not been such an old tel tale.
Just wait till I get him alone; that's al . Anyhow, he didn't think it a heinous crime did he ? I expect he gave a great laugh that startled every one within hearing."
As that was exactly what had happened, Dudley made no comment.
"And Sir Edwin Crathie would only have thought me a fool if I had been afraid to come back with him. These things will happen occasional y.
They are not worth worrying about. You are too anxious over trifles, Dudley." She moved away towards the door. "Wel , good-night, don't forget to return thanks that anyhow I am not in a hospital, general y smashed up."
She left him, and retired to bed, feeling a little depressed. Of course he had not forgiven her, nor would he see things from her point of view. She almost wished he did not mind; but all her life she had had an affection that was almost adoration for her one brother, and it always depressed her to displease him, however indifferent she might seem.
She awoke next morning with the sense of depression stil lingering, and set off for the City in far from her usual spirits. The office seemed dingy and dull, and the routine wearisome. It felt like ages and ages since she had driven home through the darkness in Sir Edwin's beautiful car. She wondered if it was real at al ; only what else should make al the old friends at the office appear so uninteresting and commonplace.
She speculated a little forlornly as to whether she would ever be likely to see him again, and decided it was most unlikely, and that probably he had already forgotten the whole incident.
And just when she had reached that point in her meditations, the telephone boy came to tel her some one was asking for her. She asked him dispiritedly who it was, and he replied that the gentleman had declined to give a name.
Hal shut herself into the case, took down the receiver, and, still dispiritedly, asked: "Hullo! Are you there?"
"Is that Miss Pritchard?" asked a voice that made her pulses hasten.
"Yes? Who is that?"
"The mere worm," came back the cheery answer.
"What's the matter? You sound somewhat funereal. Was Brother Dudley very angry?"
"Terrible. I am stil recovering. He seemed to have grave doubts as to whether you really were the eminent person you professed to be!"
"Oh, he did, did he? And what did you say?"
"That it was quite possible you were only a third-rate actor al the time."
"Thanks. I shall not grow vain on your compliments. Have you any grave doubts yourself?"
"I don't mind either way."
"Thanks again. Well, I am speaking to you from my own private sanctum at the House of Commons; and if you want to make sure, you can take my number, and ring up the Exchange and inquire."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Good girl. You don't sound quite so obstreperous as you were last night. What's the matter?"
"I'm only Mondayfied. The office is always boring on a Monday."
"I'm sorry I can't suggest a spin this afternoon, but I'm too much engaged until Wednesday. Wil you come on Wednesday? Wel ?" as Hal, appeared to be meditating.
"Where do you propose going?" she asked.
"Anywhere you like. I'd better not fetch you from the office though.
I'll pick you up just casual y in St. Jame's Park. Wil you be there at five, near the Archway?"
"Al right, if I can get away. How shal I let you know if I change my mind?"
"Don't do anything so childish. The run will do you good after a stuffy office. I'll be there to the minute. Good-bye," and he rang off without waiting for a reply.
Hal went back to her work, with a pleasurable sensation that instead of grey stuffiness there was joyful sunshine. She had never imagined for a moment het would actual y carry out his suggestion of a meetingt; and here they were with an actual appointment.
It was so odd, too, that they had not properly seen each other yet; only having met in the light of street lamps; and she fel to wondering eagerly what he was like in broad daylight. A voice whispered,
"Perhaps you won't like him at all, and will wish you had not gone"; but her love of adventure easily silenced it, and she looked forward to her outing without any misgivings.
Once she thought she would go an tel Lorraine about it first, but later decided it would be more enjoyable to to so afterwards, and kept her own counsel; which perhaps was not entirely wise, seeing how much more cause Lorraine had to know the world than she had.