“Say anything you like. All right.”
The car started well, and with ordinary luck would have got away. But Porgly-woggles, who was playing in the garden, chose this moment to sit down in the middle of the path. Crane, in trying to pass him, ran one wheel over a bed of wallflowers. Dolly screamed. Margaret, hearing the noise, rushed out hatless, and was in time to jump on the footboard. She said not a single word: he was only treating her as she had treated Helen, and her rage at his dishonesty only helped to indicate what Helen would feel against them. She thought, “I deserve it: I am punished for lowering my colours.” And she accepted his apologies with a calmness that astonished him.
“I still consider you are not fit for it,” he kept saying.
“Perhaps I was not at lunch. But the whole thing is spread clearly before me now.”
“I was meaning to act for the best.”
“Just lend me your scarf, will you? This wind takes one’s hair so.”
“Certainly, dear girl. Are you all right now?”
“Look! My hands have stopped trembling.”
“And have quite forgiven me? Then listen. Her cab should already have arrived at Howards End. (We’re a little late, but no matter.) Our first move will be to send it down to wait at the farm, as, if possible, one doesn’t want a scene before servants. A certain gentleman”—he pointed at Crane’s back—“won’t drive in, but will wait a little short of the front gate, behind the laurels. Have you still the keys of the house?”
“Yes.”