“Inexcusable of me,” said Ross. “I hope I shan’t lose my job.”
She apparently did not choose to notice this flippancy.
“Come!” she ordered, and went past him, down the stairs, and out of that sorry little cottage. She ran all the way to the[Pg 457] car, and two or three times she said “Hurry!” to Ross, who kept easily at her side with his usual stride.
“Now!” she said. “Drive as fast as you possibly can!”
“Sorry,” said Ross, “but my only license is one I had in Manila—and even that’s expired. I can’t afford to take chances.”
She shrugged her shoulders, with an unpleasant little laugh. She was in a very evil temper; the light was on inside of the car, and now and then he glanced at her, saw her sitting there, her black eyes staring straight before her, her mouth set in a mutinous and scornful line.
She was in torment; he felt sure of that, but he felt equally sure that she would not hesitate to inflict torment upon others. She was cruel, reckless, blind, and deaf in her folly. He wondered why it was that he pitied her so.
Then he, too, shrugged his shoulders; mentally, that is, for he was incapable of so theatric a gesture in the flesh. He himself was in an odd humor, a sort of resigned indifference. He had, for the moment, lost interest in the whole affair. It was too fantastic, too confusing; he didn’t care very much what happened, just now.
“Let me out here!” she said. “There’s not time for you to take me up to the house. I’ll walk. Now hurry!”
He stopped the car at the corner of Wygatt Road; she got out, and he went on, alone. And he was surprised by the difference which her going made. It was as if a monstrous oppression were lifted from his spirit, and he could once more draw a free breath, and once more see the open sky. One clear star was out. No; it was not a mad world; there was awful and majestic order in the universe, inexorable law.