“I shall want the cab, Parker,” he said. “Don’t send it away.”
Mrs. Ames whisked round on Parker with amazing rapidity.
“Do as I tell you, Parker,” she said, “and be quick!”
It was a mere conflict of will that, for the next five seconds, silently raged between them, but as definite and as hard-hitting as any affair of the prize ring. And it was impossible that there should be any but the one end to it, for Mrs. Ames devoted her whole strength and will to it, while from the first her husband’s heart was not in the battle. But she was fighting for her all, and not only her all, but his, and not only his, but Millie’s. Three existences were at stake, and the ruin of two homes was being hazarded. And when he spoke, she knew she was winning.
“I must go,” he said. “She will be waiting at the station.”
“She will wait to no purpose,” said Mrs. Ames.
“She will be”—no word seemed adequate—“be furious,” he said. “A man cannot treat a woman like that.”
Any blow would do: he had no defence: she could strike him as she pleased.
“Elsie comes home next week,” she said. “A pleasant home-coming. And Harry will have to leave Cambridge!”
“But I love her!” he said.