“An’ who’s to help me with Verity an’ the sky-pilot? It’s always like this. Just as she’s thinkin’ she might possibly make up her mind to marry me, off she goes an’ starts a hobby of some kind, an’ I get shoved into the background. Parson-squashin’s all very well, but it takes so much of her energy, an’ she forgets that I’m—well, just waitin’. And nobody has the faintest influence with her but you, Debbie darlin’, as you know. Mayn’t I really take you home? I’ve got a new——”
“Yes, I know,” Deb interrupted ruthlessly. “A new carburettor or a gudgeon-pin or a ball-bearing. You always have. Thank you, Larry. I’ve given up cars. And I won’t, I won’t, I won’t be patted!”
After she had gone, Verity cried unaffectedly behind the sheltering screen, while Larry, almost weeping himself, kicked things miserably and chopped splinters off the table.
“It’s hurt her so dreadfully!” she said, “every bit of her; her pride, her affection, herself. She’ll never be the same again. And people are saying such hateful things. I could strangle them—the—the alligators! Slinker was a rotter, but he was quite decent to her—she’s bound to miss him a little. And think of all he represented! She couldn’t help but feel that. And now she’s nothing—nothing—except her name and her pride. What can we do for her? What can we? Not that it’s any use asking you!”
“There’s Christian,” said Larrupper, slowly, and Verity looked up with a start. Their eyes met across the table, and Larrupper nodded his black head.
“Laker’s a good sort,” he went on, apparently irrelevantly. “Always goin’ about pickin’ up the cryin’ an’ the crocked. It’s just meat an’ drink an’ five rounds of golf to old Laker. There’s never any knowin’, is there, dear—I mean, old girl?”
Verity looked at him almost approvingly as she thrust various parcels into his arms, preparatory to rising.
“Larry,” she observed kindly, “I do believe you’re growing a brain!”
CHAPTER IV
Larruppin’ Lyndesay, perturbed by the events of the morning, roared down Hillgate at a pace that sent peaceful marketers flying to the pavement. Dixon of Dockerneuk, coming up leisurely, watched him and smiled—for there was a dog.