The God in the Car: A Novel

"What are we to do?" he asked. "We shall see one another sometimes now. I can't come to your house, you know. But sometimes – "

"At a party – here and there! And the rest of the time I must live at – at home! Home!"

He bent to her, whispering,

"We must arrange – "

"No, no," she replied, passionately. "Don't you see?"

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"Oh, you don't understand! It's not that. It's not that I can't live without you."

"I never said that," he interposed quickly.

"And yet I suppose it is that. But it's something more. Willie, I can't live with him."

"Does he suspect?" he asked in an eager whisper.

"I don't know. I really don't know. It's worse if he doesn't. Oh, if you knew what I feel when he looks at me and asks – "

"Asks what?"

"Nothing – nothing in words; but, Willie, everything, everything. I shall go mad, if I stay. And then don't you see – ?" She stopped, going on again a moment later. "I've borne it till I could see you. But I can't go on bearing it."

He glanced at her.

"We can't talk about it here," he said. "Everybody will see how agitated you are."

For answer she schooled her face to rigidity, and her hands to motionlessness.

"You must talk about it – here and now," she said. "It's the only time I've seen you since – Dieppe. What are you going to do, Willie?"

He looked round. Then, with a smile, he offered his arm.

"I must take you to have something," he said. "Come, we must walk through the room."

She rose and took his arm. Bowing and smiling, she turned to greet her acquaintances. She stopped to speak to Lord Detchmore, and exchanged a word with her host.

"Yes. What are you going to do?" she asked again, aloud.

They had reached the room where the buffet stood. Mrs. Dennison, after a few words to Lady Valentine, who was still there, sat down on a chair a little remote from the crowd. Ruston brought her a cup of coffee, and stood in front of her, with the half-conscious intention of shielding her from notice. She drank the coffee hastily; its heat brought a slight glow to her face.

"You're going as you planned?" she asked.

He answered in low, dry tones, emptied of all emotion.

"Yes," said he, "I'm going."

She stretched out her hand towards him imploringly.

"Willie, you must take me with you," she said.

He looked down with startled face.

"My God, Maggie!" he exclaimed.

"I can't stay here. I can't stay with him."

Her lips quivered; he took her cup from her (he feared that she would let it fall), and set it on the table. Behind them he heard merry voices; Semingham's was loud among them. The voices were coming near them.

"I must think," he whispered. "We can't talk now. I must see you again."

"Where?" she asked helplessly.

"Carlin's. Come up to-morrow. I can arrange it. For heaven's sake, begin to talk about something."

She looked up in his face.

"I could stand here and tell it to the room," she said, "sooner than live as I live now."

He had no time to answer. Semingham's arm was on his shoulder. Lord Detchmore stood by his side.

"I want," said Semingham, "to introduce Lord Detchmore to you, Mrs. Dennison. It's not at all disinterested of me. You must persuade him – you know what about."

"No, no," laughed the Minister, "I mustn't be talked to; it's highly improper, and I distrust my virtue."

"I'll be bound now that you were talking about Omofaga this very minute," pursued Semingham.

"Of course we were," said Ruston.

"You're a great enthusiast, Mrs. Dennison," smiled Detchmore. "You ought to go out, you know. Can't you persuade your husband to lend you to the expedition?"

Ruston could have killed the man for his malapropos jesting. Maggie Dennison seemed unable to answer it. Semingham broke in lightly,

"It would be a fine chance for proving the quality – and the equality – of women," said he. "I always told Mrs. Dennison that she ought to be Queen of Omofaga."

"And I hope," said Detchmore, with a significant smile, "that there'll soon be a railway to take you there."

Even at that moment, the light of triumph came suddenly gleaming into Ruston's eyes. He looked at Detchmore, who laughed and nodded.

"I think so. I think I shall be able to manage it," he said.

"That's an end to all our troubles," said Semingham. "Come, we'll drink to it."

He signed to a waiter, who brought champagne. Lord Detchmore gallantly pressed a glass on Mrs. Dennison. She shook her head, but took it.

"Long life to Omofaga, and death to its enemies!" cried Semingham in burlesque heroics, and, with a laugh – that was, as his laughs so often were, as much at himself as at the rest of the world – he made a mock obeisance to Willie Ruston, adding, "Moriamur pro rege nostro!" and draining the glass.