“I’m comin’ home with you,” Larrupper announced, stepping after her into the Heron brougham. His face was quite colourless, and he did not look at her. “Old Grange is followin’ behind with the car, but there’s somethin’ I want to say to you, an’ it won’t improve with keepin’. Then I’m goin’ back for a chin-chin with Blackburn.”
“You’re not to say anything to Billy!” Verity exclaimed angrily. “Leave him to Mr. Grant. You’ll only make things worse.”
“That’s just what I want to make ’em!” Larry responded grimly. “I mean to make ’em so bad that there’ll be no dancin’ except on crutches for the next six months. It’s no use arguin’, my dear girl. This is a man’s job, so you may as well stop worryin’.”
“Oh, but don’t you understand——?” Verity began piteously, and stopped, for she had seen his face by a passing lamp, and she was afraid. They drove back to Heron in silence.
Mrs. Cantacute was already upstairs when they got in, and they went up together to tell her how things had gone. She worshipped every hair of Larry’s head, and he spent many an hour with her, cheering her after his own peculiar fashion.
Oh, it had been a complete success! they informed her, carefully leaving awkward details to be broken later. A crowded house and a most appreciative audience. Everything, in fact, that could be desired.
“And how did my favourite song go?” gentle Mrs. Cantacute inquired eagerly. “You know the one I mean, don’t you?—the song with the pretty refrain—‘Honey.’”
Verity coloured to the roots of her hair under her paint, for Larrupper was looking at her mercilessly across the bed.
“Oh, it was the song of the evenin’!” he answered easily and with effusion. “Went like steam an’ took like influenza. Everybody in the place goin’ away hummin’ it, even carpin’ old Savaury an’ his pampered darlin’ of a coachman. I mustn’t stop, though, dear old sweetheart. Grange is outside, waitin’, an’ he’ll be hungry after all that yowlin’.”
“Send him in for something,” Mrs. Cantacute begged, as he stooped to kiss her. “And mind you get what you want yourself, Lionel. You know you are at home here, don’t you?”