The young man began to view a developing situation with a deepening anxiety. Instinct told him that there might be rocks ahead. “By the way, who is your father? What is his name?”
“You must come and meet him.” With a laugh defiant rather than gay she got up abruptly from the station bench.
Perforce it had to be left at that, for the time being at all events. George was prepared to go with her to the world’s end if she commanded him, so why not to Clavering Park? He rose, too, from the bench and went with her across the bridge to the Up platform just as the belated 2.10 was in the act of moving off.
In the station yard was a decrepit taxi which they were able to hire and in about half an hour the lodge gates of Clavering Park confronted them. By now the bewilderment and curiosity of George were almost unbearable. He was in the seventh heaven, it was true, but native commonsense grimly warned him that his heaven was strangely insecure. The romance of the circumstances was weaving a spell of its own; the sense of enchantment increased as the mystery grew; he was beginning slowly to realize what a truly delightful thing she was to possess and on that very account, as became one who had learned much in a hard school, he understood how necessary it was to take care. There must be no counting of chickens. Somehow the nearer they drew to their destination the less favorable grew the portents. By the time the lodge gates had opened and their taxi had rattled through, the sense of “Ethel’s” innate Top-Doggishness had developed quite remarkably.
“Those trees and the deer remind me of my home.” She might have been speaking for the sake of conversation; on the other hand her intention may have been to prepare his mind for certain revelations to follow.
“Tell me, Ethel, where is your home?” In his own apprehensive ear his voice sounded odd, strained, nervous.
“I live in Ireland.”
“I used to live there too,” he said. “Ireland was where I was brought up.”
“Really. Now that’s very interesting.” The tones of her voice were so soft and warm and rich that they made him think of velvet. “Do tell me exactly where.”
“I was brought up at a place called Bally Euchra in County Kildare.”