“But my clothes,” he said rather weakly, to end a pause which he felt was undoing him.
Really, it was the feeblest of moves. The yellow chrysanthemum lady merely cast a glance at the displays of ribands peeping shyly from beneath his open overcoat. “I hope,” she said archly, “the King’s uniform will always be good enough for us.”
George saw he was done. The light in the eye of the wicked Elfreda told him so. Evidently some new game was in the wind—but in for a penny, in for a pound! It was a moment for philosophy. Besides, a natural appetite for adventure had been enormously whetted by the amazing events of the past three hours.
There was no help for it. With a reluctance which in the depths of his heart George Norris knew to be not wholly sincere he allowed Mrs. Minever to lead him to the telephone.
XLV
Girlie, in the meantime, had gone to ground in King Edward’s bedroom. The public eye was no place for her. All she asked now, if so much was permitted her, was to retire permanently into private life. She even cherished the modest hope that she might be allowed to make her escape from that house by the first train in the morning.
Shivering at her thoughts over the recently lighted bedroom fire, her faith was still pinned upon Lady Elfreda. It was a much-tired, a sorely-shattered faith, but it was now her only stand-by. The task would devolve upon Lady Elfreda of convincing Mrs. Minever and the others that her Deputy was really not “an adventuress” at all, or any kind of criminal in disguise, but the well educated daughter of a solicitor, who, no matter what her folly, was quite incapable of theft.
It was a horrid position for a budding Charlotte Brontë to occupy. As she viewed in perspective the eleven epic days she had contrived to live through since leaving London she could but marvel at herself. Oh, why had she ever embarked on this maddest of schemes! Her place was lost, her character was lost, she had used abominably a man who had gained her admiration and respect, whom she would have found it very easy to love. Never again could she hold up her head, not even if Lady Elfreda was able to satisfy the police that her Deputy was a reasonably innocent member of society!
Shivering over the logs as they spluttered to a reluctant heat, Girlie had never felt so low and miserable in her life. Remorse was whipping her severely. Ruin stared her in the face. Whatever would become of her! A hopeless future loomed ahead. No ray of hope was visible. Her mad enterprise had ended in the only way it could have done.
Soon after the clock had struck seven Girlie, fathoms deep in gloom, was startled by the entrance of Lady Elfreda. By now the poor Deputy had begun to feel a profound dislike of this cynical girl who had involved her in ruin. Howbeit, she still found it difficult not to admire her. Such assurance, such decision, such competence, such spirit were marvelous. She seemed to have every attribute of a She Napoleon.