“Chum’s off colour a bit, I think,” he said confidentially to Diana Churton. “She couldn’t sleep last night for the heat.”
“We’ll get out to Vohitra—it’s about time,” said Di good-naturedly. “I’m thinking of making up a party. You can’t get back to lunch at the bungalow, Ally; it’s too late. Come on board the mail, and see Mrs. Ritchie Stern. The Greville has just passed the Gates.”
Ally vacillated, and looked at his watch. “Chum expected me to lunch at home!” he said.
“Send Brissy in your place!” said Di, with a short laugh. “No, tell Bute; he’s got to ride up to Government House, and he’ll take a message.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Ally, and his face cleared to its own gay good-humour, “I’ll telephone; I can ring up from the post-office. Wait for me, Di, and we’ll go on board together.”
CHAPTER XI
“Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit? There is more hope of a fool than of him!”—Jewish Proverb.
I think it is the Chinese who have a proverb that says: “To expect one who does not come, to eat and not to be satisfied, and to work for years and get no promotion, are three things which are enough to kill a man.” Mrs. Lewin had been proving the wearing process of the first clause for a good half-hour, before the telephone bell rang, and her husband’s voice informed her that he was detained, and—er—awfully sorry, but would not be in to lunch. “I’ll come up later—have you got a headache, Chum?” said the strong tones, muffled to half their weight like a ventriloquist’s.
The “er” was a fatal hesitation, and struck Mrs. Lewin’s keenness of perception. Ally had not been detained by duty as he wished her to imagine—he was lunching on board the mail boat, catching at the nearest pleasure as usual, to his own detriment and hers. For a minute a wave of very human irritation prompted her to let him go his own way. Why should she for ever stand between him and retribution? She was tired, and inclination prompted her to let the struggle go, and take consequences as easily and without regret as he did. Then with another change of mood she saw that Ally’s lack of purpose was no excuse for her own. The very things she saw and condemned in him were a spur to her to be on her own guard. The danger was hers as well as his—the object to be gained her own safety too. She could let no chance go by, and the feeblest of human excuses always is, “I am no worse than my neighbours.” It all passed over her conscious mind while she stood with the little apparatus still in her hands.
“No, I’ve no headache—I’m all right,” she said quietly. “But come up after lunch, Ally—I want to see you. It’s important—but don’t say anything to any one. Tell them I am seedy if you like, and that you must get back.”