“You’re free, Ivor!” she said. “A man with no ties and plenty of money—my dear, the world’s for you! And here you are, hanging about London in January, when you might be in all the lovely warm places in the world, having marvellous adventures in the sun!”
But he couldn’t go away—and she knew, with pathetic impatience, that he couldn’t. And then, in that bitter loneliness, he was sorry for himself. And his cold continued.
Now there came a day that January when he had not seen Magdalen for two weeks. The time was past when he could see Magdalen. He wanted too much—anyway, it was too much now!—and he couldn’t pretend any more to put up with a little. January was doing its worst that particular day; the rain fell icy cold, and every hour or so it would beat down with feverish fury; and the angry damp seemed to penetrate his flat and bones, there was little comfort in his blazing fire—even had he been restful enough to sit before it for any length of time. Outside, Upper Brook Street was quiet and sodden; every now and then a bare-headed manservant would scuttle under an umbrella to the pillar-box; and towards lunch-time several cars—from his window above they looked like large, fat, wet flies crawling in the glistening dirt—swung along from Park Lane towards Grosvenor Square, full of people going to eat each other’s food. And soon they too would be going south, and Magdalen among them maybe....
Towards a darkened four o’clock he thought it might do him good to go out and walk a little in the rain; he had a sudden longing to stand bare-headed in the rain. It would certainly do him good.... There was a throbbing pain in the back of his head. At least it seemed to be in the back of his head, or to have its headquarters there, for the whole of his head was heavy with it. Not a serious pain, but irritating. Every few minutes he would shake his head as though to shake away the pain, but it just went on irritating him. This damnable cold in the head.... He crushed and swallowed two aspirins, and went out.
He enjoyed it, this aimless wandering in the rain. It was fun to walk slackly along while every one else was hurrying by, anxious to get somewhere. He wasn’t anxious to get anywhere! The men looked awful in the rain, he thought; they smelt of it, and looked like weeds that in their hearts suspected as much; but the hurrying little women looked attractive and pathetic, and oh so serious! There was one, a girl with a white serious face and downcast eyes, whom he would have liked to speak to, but she was swallowed up in the crowds that were waiting for buses at Hyde Park Corner. He walked on, towards Knightsbridge. He wasn’t going anywhere in particular. Maybe he might go into the Hyde Park Hotel and have tea; he didn’t generally take tea, but this afternoon he just might. But somehow he forgot to go as far as the Hyde Park Hotel, and found himself at Magdalen’s door in Wilton Place. He was in Knightsbridge, after all, and he might just as well have tea with Magdalen as alone at the Hyde Park Hotel.
But Magdalen was not in.
“Now that’s very disappointing, Foster,” Ivor said. “And it’s raining, too!”
“Yes, indeed it is, sir,” the man said sympathetically. “If you would care to come in I could give you some tea, sir—and it might be that madam will be in herself soon, though she left no word as to when she would be coming in.”
“It’s cruelly wet,” Foster said thoughtfully, helping Ivor off with his overcoat.
The tea question was settled, then—there, in the “room of state!” No peaches in it now, though! and no Magdalen either! But he was not waiting for Magdalen. He hadn’t really expected to find her at home. He had wanted some tea, that’s all—and, after all, he had so often refused tea in this house that it was only fair to come to it on the one occasion when he did want tea. And now that he had had it he was just waiting to finish a cigarette, and away he’d go. But, it was so warm and pleasant in that “room of state,” he smoked another.... Six o’clock it was now. Well, he wasn’t waiting for Magdalen, anyway. God knew where she was! And he had nothing to say to her even if she did come in.... The half-hour struck. And Ivor, in a sudden wild fury, threw away the cigarette he was about to light, and banged out of the house.