Then for a moment some little voice of honour made itself heard, and he had to argue it down. Not to pay such debts—debts of honour, as they were called—was among those very few things that a man must not do, and for which, if he does them, he gets no quarter from society in general. No doubt he could get his debts paid if he went to the Osbornes; but that he could not do. It was much harder for him than that which he proposed to do. So the little voice was silenced again, almost before it began to speak. But it was used to being taken lightly, to be not listened to.
He was not often at home in the evening, but when he was he usually sat in Claude’s room, which, though small, was cooler than the southward-facing drawing room, and he took his cigar there now. A tray of whisky and Perrier had already been placed there, but since he did not wish to be disturbed he rang the bell to tell Parker he wished to be called at eight next morning, and wanted nothing more that night. And then he took some writing paper from a drawer in the knee-hole table, and drew up his chair to it. He had found there also a carefully written out speech by Claude, designed for his constituents. He read a page or two, and found it dealt with local taxation. Large sums like “five million” were written in figures. Smaller sums, as in phrases “fivepence in the pound,” were written out in full. This was convenient. There was also a frequent occurrence of “myself” in the speech. Part of that word concerned Jim. And Claude wrote with a stylograph: there were several of them in the pen tray. Jim had used them regularly since he came into the flat.
Dora was to call for him next morning at twelve, with the design of spending the afternoon at Lord’s to see the cricket, and, arriving there a little before her appointed time, was told that he was out, but had left word that he would be back by twelve. Accordingly, since the heat was great in the street, she came up to the flat and waited for him there.
She felt rather fagged this morning, for the last week had been strenuous, while privately her emotional calendar had made many entries against the days. That estrangement from Claude, that alienation without a quarrel, and therefore the more difficult to terminate, had in some secret way got very much worse; his presence even had begun to irritate her; and he certainly saw that irritation (it did not require much perspicacity), and spared her as much as he could, never, if possible, being alone with her. Instead he threw himself into the hospitalities of the house; looked after Mrs. Per, taking her to picture-galleries and concerts, until Per had declared that he was getting to feel quite an Othello, and performed with zeal all the duties of a resident son of the house. And bitterly Dora saw how easy it was to him, how without any effort he caught the rôle. Like some mysterious stain, appearing again after years, the resemblance between him and his family daily manifested itself more clearly.
The sight of the flat caused these thoughts to inflict themselves very vividly on her mind, and, sitting here alone, waiting, it was almost with shuddering that she expected Claude to enter. How often in these familiar surroundings she had sat just here, expecting and longing for him to come, to know that he and she would be alone together in their nest. And now the walls seemed to observe her with alien eyes, even as with alien eyes she looked at them. It was a blessing, anyhow, that they had gone to Park Lane: the dual solitude here would have been intolerable.
She had not got to wait long, for Jim’s step soon sounded in the passage. She heard him whistling to himself as he went into his bedroom, and next moment he came in.
“I’m not late,” he said, “so don’t scold me. It’s you who are early, which is the most outrageous form of unpunctuality. Well, Dora, how goes it?”
She got up and came across the room to him.
“It doesn’t go very nicely,” she said; “but you seem cheerful, which is to the good. Jim, it is so nice to see somebody cheerful without being jocose. We are all very jocose at Park Lane, and Claude flirts with Mrs. Per.”
Dora gave a little laugh.