Perhaps now he would say it; now, in the mellow inn-garden where they had tea, and watched the sun drop, a spinning red globe, through the opalescent October mists.
But though Napier talked excitedly, incessantly, of his vagabondage in Spain; fluent description of just what had attracted him: the lazy Southern people with their courtly ways—the clear rich colours—the voluptuous sunshine—over all, a sense of dignified repose, quiescent to the memory of past greatness in history; though he talked so much and so long that by the time they started for home, the chill of evening had crept up dankly over the landscape; yet he did not say: "Come with me, Kathleen...."
A moaning breeze rustled the foliage that clung faithfully to the boughs, reminding them that the day's generous flare of crimson and wine-colour and topaz had been the merest bravado ... and that winter was coming soon, very soon—Kathleen shivered a little, and drew her cloak tightly round her; the cushioned seats of the car felt soggy, and some withered leaves had blown in.... And still Napier talked of Spain, and the Moors in Spain, and castles in Spain, and himself in Spain—with never a word of her in Spain; never a word....
"I've got to go home to dinner to-night, darling; shall I put you down near Hammersmith or——"
She did not want to go home. The panic she was just succeeding in holding at arm's length, would surely find her at Pacific Villa.
She could easily fashion some careless lie to explain her absence to Gareth; the same lie she always used to cover those long evenings at the flat: she was going to the Worleys; they were teaching her bridge; would Gareth care to come too?—she risked the danger of an affirmative, knowing how busy he was of late, how he disliked bridge, how he disliked Trixie. Anyway, he appeared curiously apathetic towards her doings since their summer holiday.
"I don't want any dinner, Nap. Drop me at the flat, and join me later on, can you?"
He assented; but half-heartedly. It was wonderful to be going to Spain; wonderful to win the Cup Race—for he fully intended to win it by dexterous combinations of skill, recklessness, and foul play; wonderful that the feat was one which could be performed showily in sight of the multitude. Nothing was wanting to his anticipations of glory, save a special audience of his wife. Yes, Grace must be persuaded to come with him next week. He planned for a reconciliation to take place between them this very evening.... And afterwards he would sit blissfully with her beautiful auburn head against his knee, and make plans for their second honeymoon, along the Guadal-quiver.... And he would describe to her just how splendid she would feel, seeing him outrival all competitors in the great race.
Yes, Grace must come with him to Spain. He wanted it. Usually he got what he wanted. He drove to Hamilton Terrace and dressed for dinner, in a riot of triumphant anticipation....
A couple of hours later saw him, ominously silent, and with a curious glint under his heavy eyelids, letting himself into the flat where Kathleen awaited him. Grace had refused his request, quite calmly and good-temperedly; had said it would bore her....