When Hal and her cousin emerged from the office the fol owing Wednesday evening, the first thing Hal saw was Sir Edwin's motor, and Sir Edwin himself standing waiting for her. A disengaged taxi was just moving off, having deposited a fare, and instantly, without a word to Dick, she sprang into it. Dick gave a sharp glance round and followed her.
"Tel him where to go," she said.
He directed the chauffeur, and then looked anxiously into her face.
She had turned very pale, and seemed for the moment overcome.
"Sir Edwin's motor?" he asked, and she nodded.
"Shal I cal for you every day?" he said at once.
"No. He can't possibly see me if I go out the other way." Then she added: "He won't go on for long. He was there yesterday, but he did not see me; and after to-day I dare say he will give it up."
Finally she added, with an effort:
"I heard this morning the wedding is already fixed for June. It's to be one of the weddings of the season"; and her lips curled somewhat.
"I'm more sorry for her than for you, Hal," he said quietly. "You've a lot of splendid years before you yet. Heaven only knows what's ahead of her. I doubt he'll not give her much beside his name for his share of the bargain."
She made no comment, leaning back in her corner, white and tired. It was difficult to imagine anything ever being splendid again just then; or any man ever seeming other than tame, after Sir Edwin's clever, virile, interesting personality.
But Dick had judged wisely in suggesting the trip down East. Anything West would merely have recal ed painful memories. The East of London was new to her, and could not fail to be interesting to any one with Hal's love of her fel ows.
They went to a large parish hal , where Quin was in charge for a social evening of dancing and music. Factory girls were there in al their tawdry finery to dance; rough, boisterous youths mostly made fun of them; tired, white-faced, over-worked middle-aged women sat round the wal s, laughing weakly, but forgetting the drudgery for a little while.
At one end of the room older men sat and smoked, and looked at il ustrated periodicals.
Hal entered with Quin and Dick on either side of her, and was immediately accosted by a young lady, with a longer and straighter feather than most of them, with the remark:
"Hul o, miss!... which of 'em's yer sweet'eart?"
A burst of laughter greeted this sally, but Hal, not in the least disconcerted, replied:
"Why, both, of course... I'll be bound you've had two at a time often enough."
The repartee delighted al within hearing, and from that moment Hal was a brilliant succes at the social evenings. She only wondered she had never thought to go before; but perhaps no other moment would have been just so propitious.
The sudden blank in her life craved some interest that was entirely new, and made her more ready to receive fresh impressions and create fresh occupations. She quickly found real pleasure in teaching the girls to dance properly, in listening to their outspoken humour, and soon developed an interest in their varied and vigorous personalities.
As she and Dick went home together that evening he noted joyful y that a little colour had come back to her face, and there was once more a genuine gleam in her eyes.
"You liked it?" he asked.
"Immensely."
"It grows on one. You'll like it better still yet. Alymer and I have always rather laughed at Quin, and regarded him as a crank. But he's not. It's just that he loves humanity, and he gets quite close up to the core of it down there, even if it is half-smothered in vice and dirt. I don't believe he'll ever take orders. It's partly because he's not a clergyman, and they know it, he's such a success. To-night, for instance, there was a big bul ying chap trying to spoil al the fun for the men who wanted to smoke peacefully and look at the books. Quin remonstrated, and he turned round and swore violently at him. To my surprise, Quin, if anything, outdid him. I wouldn't have believed Quin could swear like that. I'm sure I couldn't myself. The chap just looked at him, and tried another oath or two doubtful y. And Quin said:
"Go on if you like, I'm not nearly through yet. I can't be a blank, blank, blank bully, and I don't want to be - it's nothing to be proud of; but I'm as much of a man as you any day."
"The other chaps laughed then, and the brute slunk off to the other side of the room."
"I asked Quin about it later, and he said:
"Oh well, you've got to talk to them in their own language, or they don't listen. That's the best of not being a clergyman. Of course one couldn't very well curse and swear then. But it's the way to manage them. That chap will come to heel in an evening or two, and be reasonably quiet."
"You hit the right note straight off, Hal. Quin was awful y pleased.
Talk to them on their own level first, and presently you'll be getting them struggling up to yours almost without knowing it. He's frightful y keen for you to go again."
"I'm going every Wednesday," she said, "and other times as wel ."
They parted at the door, and Hal went in alone.
The moment she stood in the sitting-room she knew that something had happened. Dudley was sitting in his big chair by the fire, holding neither book nor paper, gazing silently at the flames.
At the table she stood stil .
"What's the matter, Dudley?... What has happened?"
There were a few moments' silence, then, scarcely looking round, he replied:
"She's gone. Run away with another man."
"Gone!..." she echoed. "Gone... with another man! ... Do you mean Doris?"
"Yes. She was married at a Reigstry Office this morning. A messenger boy took the letter up this evening, after they had left for the Continent."
Hal sat down. It was so violently sudden she felt stunned. After a moment Dudley got up and moved aimlessly about the room.
"It's no use attempting to say anything, Hal. There's nothing to say.
Of course I know you're sorry, and al that, but I'd rather you didn't say it. You never liked the engagement, and you never liked Doris.
Probably you were justified, but it doesn't make it any easier for me now."
"Who has she gone with?"
"I believe he's a South African millionaire."
"Ah! - "
"You had heard of him?..." sharply.
"Only last week, from the tenant opposite. She did not know I was your sister, and said something about Doris having two young men, and one of them was a South African mil ionaire."
He made no comment, but continued his aimless walk.
"What about Ethel and Basil?" she could not help asking.
"They are terribly upset. As soon as I had been shown the letter I went out to make inquiries. Ethel could not rest for fear everything was not square. She wanted to go off after her at once. But it's al correct. I saw the Registrar. They were properly married, and they left for Dover at eleven, bound for Paris."
"What in the world will become of Basil?"
He winced visibly. Doris's flagrant selfishness to Basil hurt almost more than her faithlessness to himself.
"She stated in the letter that her husband was allowing her a thousand a year for herself, and she was prepared to pay a housekeeper to look after Basil and the flat."
"Little beast," Hal breathed under her breath. "What are they going to do?" she said aloud.
"The tenant opposite insists upon taking Doris's place. She was sitting with him when Ethel got home, and the letter arrived about the same time. Nothing else wil satisfy her. She is going to be with him all day, and only teach in the evenings after Ethel has got back."
"How splendid of her!" involuntarily.
"She hardly seems the kind of person Basil would like, but he appeared quite pleased. It may have been a little quixotism. All he said was:
"What in the world should we have done without you, G; and there! only a few weeks ago you were wishing you had not been born."
"How like Basil. Al gratitude and understanding as usual. But it must have hit him rather hard, Dudley. Is he al right?"
"I don't know." The gloom on Dudley's face deepened. "I thought he looked very il , but I could not get Ethel to say much. She seemed rather to avoid me. I don't think she likes me."
Hal was conscious of a little inward smile of gladness. She had guessed Ethel's secret long enough ago, and she knew the power of uncertainty and a little thwarting. Dudley would natural y try to break down Ethel's dislike; and perhaps in doing so he would grow to know her better.
"I think I must try and get up to-morrow," was al she said. "Ethel is so reserved. She wil get il herself if she broods and frets on t he top of all her work and anxiety."
"Wil you?" he asked, with some eagerness. "Basil loves to see you; and if he is real y worse, I shall get Sir John Maitland to go up and see him again."
"Of course I'll go. We may be able to help them between us."
She was just going away upstairs to bed, when the forlorness of Dudley's attitude, and the thought of her own sore heart before Dick comforted her, made her lay down her hat again and cross the room to him.
"Dudley, don't forget you've got me still. I know I'm very trying sometimes, but I love you so much more than Doris ever could have."
She sat on the arm of his chair, and played with the lapel of his coat.
"Don't forget about me, Dudley. If you are just only miserable, I shal be miserable too."
He looked at her with a sudden greater depth of affection than she had ever seen.
"I don't forget, Hal. If it weren't for you, what in the world should I do now?... It's no use talking about it, is it? You will understand that; but thank God you're still here with me, and we can go on the same again."
She stooped and kissed him hurriedly, and then left the room, that he might not see the tears brimming over in her eyes.
The next morning she rang up Lorraine's flat, to know if she had come back yet. She was rather surprised when Jean her maid answered. It was not like Lorraine to go away without her maid.
"You don't know when to expect her?..." she repeated uncertainly.
"No; Miss Vivian said she might come any day, or she might stay over another Sunday. She has the motor with her."
"Is she far from a station?" Hal asked, contemplating the possibility of joining her on Saturday if she had not returned.
"About seven miles, I think. She went down in the car, and is coming back in it. I have had one letter, in which she says she is having lovely weather, and absolute rest, and feeling much better."
"That's good. Well, if she comes back suddenly will you ask her to
'phone me? I want to see her."
But neither the next day nor the one after was there any cal , and in reply to a second query on Saturday, Jean said she had only received a wire that morning saying she was staying until Tuesday.
Hal was a little puzzled that she had not been invited down for the second week-end, but decided Lorraine must have meant to return and changed her mind at the last moment, leaving no time to get a message to her.
A later encounter with Dick, however, puzzled her more than ever.
"Old Alymer is taking quite a long holiday," he said. "We were expecting him on Tuesday or Wednesday, but he never turned up. He was at the Temple on Thursday, but went away again in the evening."
"I hope Lorraine isn't ill?" she said anxiously; "but of course if she is, she would have sent for Jean."
"Is he away with Miss Vivian?" Dick asked in some surprise.
"Yes; I made him go," loyally. "He had scruples, but really they seemed too silly, and Lorraine looked so ill, and he always has the knack of cheering her up and doing her good."
Dick looked at her doubtfully.
"I hope you were wise," he said; "but they are rather fascinating people, you know."
"Oh, nonsense! Lorraine is quite eleven years older than Alymer, and she only likes to look at him."
Dick had it in his mind to suggest there had been a far greater disparity between her and Sir Edwin, but he only said:
"Well, he is good to look at, isn't he?... and such a dear old chap.
Nothing seems to spoil him. And of course Miss Vivian has done an awful lot for him. If she wanted him to go, he could hardly refuse."
"That's just what I said," with a little note of triumph. "And Jean told me Lorraine had said in a letter she was having absolute rest, and feeling much better."
Yet, when Hal was alone she wondered a little again why Lorraine, after inviting her for the first Sunday, had said nothing about the second.
It was quite unusual for her not to go for a week-end when Lorraine was at the sea.
She felt suddenly that they wanted to be alone, yet persuaded herself it was only because Lorraine had been so tired.