“I?” He laughed. “Don’t I? I’m always in a bad temper all the year round. One has to be in business, it impresses people; it’s the only kind of authority that the office-boy understands.”
“Don’t you get awfully tired of it all?” she asked him. “Blotting-paper, I mean, and pens and sealing-wax?”
“No. I never used to think about it. One lived by rule so. There were regular hours at which one did things and always every day the same regular things to do. But now, after this fortnight, it will, I think, be hard. I shall remember things and places, and it will be difficult to settle down.”
She looked at him critically. “Yes, you’re not the sort of man to whom business would be enough. Some men can go on and never want anything else at all. I know plenty of men like that, but you’re not one of them.” She paused for a moment and then said suddenly, “But oh, Mr. Maradick, why did you come to Treliss?”
“Why?” he said, vaguely echoing her.
“Yes, of all places in the world. There never was a place more unsettling; whatever you’ve been before Treliss will make you something different now, and if anything’s ever going to happen to you it will happen here. However, have your holiday, Mr. Maradick, have it to the full. I’m going to have mine.”
They had arrived. The wagonette had drawn up in front of a little wayside inn, “The Hearty Cow,” having for its background a sweeping moor of golden gorse; the little brown house stood like a humble penitent on the outskirts of some royal crowd.
Everyone got down and shovelled rugs and baskets and kettles; everyone protested and laughed and ran back to see if there was anything left behind, and ran on in front to look at the view. At the turn of the brow of the hill Maradick drew a deep breath. He did not think he had ever seen anything so lovely before. On both sides and behind him the gorse flamed; in front of him was the sea stretching, a burning blue, for miles; against the black cliffs in the distance it broke in little waves of hard curling white. They had brought with them a tent that was now spread over their heads to keep off the sun, they crowded round the unpacking of the baskets. Conversation was general.
“Oh, paté de foie gras, chicken, lobster salad, that’s right. No, Tony, wait a moment. Don’t open them yet, they’re jam and things. Oh! there’s the champagne. Please, Mr. Lester, would you mind?”
“So I said to him that if he couldn’t behave at a dance he’d better not come at all—yes, look at the view, isn’t it lovely?—better not come at all; don’t you think I was perfectly right, Mr. Gale? Too atrocious, you know, to speak——”