"And Soames was with her?" said Aunt Hester, to whom Mrs. Small had as
yet had no opportunity of relating the incident.
"Soames with her? Of course not!"
"But was she all alone in London?"
"Oh, no; there was Mr. Bosinney with her. She was perfectly dressed."
But Swithin, hearing the name Irene, looked severely at Euphemia, who,
it is true, never did look well in a dress, whatever she may have done
on other occasions, and said:
"Dressed like a lady, I've no doubt. It's a pleasure to see her."
At this moment James and his daughters were announced. Dartie, feeling
badly in want of a drink, had pleaded an appointment with his dentist,
and, being put down at the Marble Arch, had got into a hansom, and was
already seated in the window of his club in Piccadilly.
His wife, he told his cronies, had wanted to take him to pay some calls.
It was not in his line--not exactly. Haw!
Hailing the waiter, he sent him out to the hall to see what had won
the 4.30 race. He was dog-tired, he said, and that was a fact; had been
drivin' about with his wife to 'shows' all the afternoon. Had put his
foot down at last. A fellow must live his own life.
At this moment, glancing out of the bay window--for he loved this seat
whence he could see everybody pass--his eye unfortunately, or perhaps
fortunately, chanced to light on the figure of Soames, who was mousing
across the road from the Green Park-side, with the evident intention of
coming in, for he, too, belonged to 'The Iseeum.'
Dartie sprang to his feet; grasping his glass, he muttered something
about 'that 4.30 race,' and swiftly withdrew to the card-room, where
Soames never came. Here, in complete isolation and a dim light, he lived
his own life till half past seven, by which hour he knew Soames must
certainly have left the club.
It would not do, as he kept repeating to himself whenever he felt the
impulse to join the gossips in the bay-window getting too strong for
him--it absolutely would not do, with finances as low as his, and the
'old man' (James) rusty ever since that business over the oil shares,
which was no fault of his, to risk a row with Winifred.
If Soames were to see him in the club it would be sure to come round to
her that he wasn't at the dentist's at all. He never knew a family where
things 'came round' so. Uneasily, amongst the green baize card-tables,
a frown on his olive coloured face, his check trousers crossed, and
patent-leather boots shining through the gloom, he sat biting his
forefinger, and wondering where the deuce he was to get the money if
Erotic failed to win the Lancashire Cup.