The God in the Car: A Novel

"Of course, I'll come."

"Bring all this with you," cried Harry. "I shan't take up your time. You must stick to your own work as much as you like. When'll you come, Tom?"

"Why, to-morrow," said Tom Loring.

"Not now?"

"I might, if you like," smiled Tom.

"That's right, old chap. You can send round for your things. Bring a bag, and come to-night. Your room's there for you. I told them to keep it ready. Damn it, Tom, I thought things would come straight some day, and I kept it ready."

Had things come straight? Tom did not know.

"I say," pursued Harry, "I met Ruston to-day. He was very kind about my cutting the Omofaga. I wonder if I've been unjust to him!"

Then Tom smiled.

"I shouldn't bother about that, if I were you," said he.

"Well, he's not a thin-skinned chap, is he?" asked Harry, with relief.

"I should fancy not," said Tom.

"You see, he's off in a fortnight, and I thought we ought to part friends. So I told him – well, I said, you know, that when he came back, we should be glad to see him."

Tom began to laugh.

"You're getting quite a diplomatist, Harry," he said.

When Harry bustled away, his high spirits raised higher still by Tom's ready assent, Tom put on the garb of society, and took a cab to Adela Ferrars'.

"She'll be very pleased about this," thought Tom, as he went along. "It's good news to take her."

But whatever else Tom Loring knew, it is certain that he was not infallible on the subject of women and their feelings. He recognised the fact (having indeed suspected it many times before) when Adela, on the telling of his tidings, flashed out in petulance,

"She's sent for you back?" she asked; and Tom nodded.

"And you're going?" was the next quick question.

"Well, I could hardly refuse, could I?"

"No; I suppose not – at least not if you're Maggie Dennison's dog, for her to drive away with a stick and whistle back at her pleasure."

Tom had been drinking tea. He set down the cup, and feebly stroked his thigh with his hand; and he glanced at Adela (who was rattling the tea things) with deprecatory surprise.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," he ventured to remark.

"Oh, of course, you hadn't. Maggie sends you away – you go. Maggie sends a footman (well, then, Harry) for you – and back you go. And I suppose you'll say you're very sorry, won't you? and you'll promise you won't do it again, won't you?"

"I don't think I shall be asked to do that," said Tom, speaking seriously, but showing a slight offence in his manner.

"But if she tells you to?" asked Adela scornfully.

"I didn't think you'd take it like this. Why shouldn't I go back?"

"Oh, go back! Go back and fetch and carry for Maggie, and write Harry's speeches till the end of the chapter. Oh, yes, go back."

Tom was puzzled.

"Has anything upset you to-day?" he asked.

"Has anything upset me!" echoed Adela, throwing her eyes up to the ceiling.

Tom finished his tea in a nervous gulp.

"I don't see why I shouldn't go back," he said.

"Well, I'm telling you to go back," said Adela. "Go back till she's had enough of you again – and then be turned out again."

Tom's face grew crimson.

"At least," he said slowly, "she has never spoken to me like that."

Adela had left the table and taken an arm-chair near the fire. Her back was to the door and her face towards Tom; she held a fire-screen between her and him, letting the blaze burn her face. But Tom, being unobservant, paid no attention to the position of the fire-screen. With a look of pain on his face, he took up his hat and rose to his feet. The meeting had been very different from what he had hoped.

"When do you go?" she asked brusquely.

"To-night. I'm just going back to my rooms for a bag, and then I shall go. I'm sorry you should – I'm sorry you don't think I'm doing right."

"It doesn't matter two straws what I think," said Adela behind the screen.

"Aye, but it does to me," said Tom.

She made no answer, and he stood for a moment, looking uneasily at the intruding fire-screen.

"Well, good-bye," he said.

"Good-bye."

"I shall see you soon, I hope."

"If Maggie will let you come."

"I don't know," said Tom, "what pleasure you find in that. It seems to me that as a gentleman – to say nothing of my being their friend – I must go back."

She made no retort to this, and he moved a step towards the door. Then he turned and glanced at her. She had dropped the screen and her eyes were fixed on the fire. He sighed, frowned, shrugged his shoulders, turned, and made for the door again. In another second he would have been gone, but Adela cried softly,

"Mr. Loring."