“Gone away.”
“Where has he gone to?”
“Oh! come down and I’ll tell you everything. Dick! Dick! is that a bath I hear you dragging over the floor? Dick, if you dare to have the impudence to keep me waiting whilst you take a bath, I’ll—I’ll come up and pull you out of it. Do come on!”
“Directly!”
“Well, don’t be long,” grumbled Jane; and she apparently took her seat on the cushions upon the matting, for he could hear her grumbling about the absence of chairs.
This was a new development of affairs. George bolted! It was just what one might have expected of the man, to insult a girl and then fly from the wrath to come.
It was rather a relief, too, viewed by the light of morning. No man likes the task of thrashing a dog that has misbehaved: the thing has to be done, but it is unpleasant, and if the creature runs away and hides, so much the better. And the thrashing of a fat, wheezy pug without teeth or means of defense was what the punishment of George du Telle would amount to.
He dressed rapidly and came down to the room where Jane was sitting on a cushion, trying to read the Japan Mail.
“Oh, there you are! Come and sit down. No, not beside me; right opposite, if you please.”
“Tell me all about it.”