He made no objection at all, but held open the door in silence.
The ungracious woman, summoned from the kitchen in the act of yawning prodigiously, ushered her into a room as cold as a well, with a mingled perfume of pomatum and apple-garret which turned her what Tony would have described as "niffy." She took off her skirt, and asked that it might be hung before the kitchen fire. She could not, however, undress, since she had with her no necessaries for the night, and the landlady volunteered no assistance.
She lay down in wretched discomfort, thinking that Gerald downstairs, with a fire, had far the best of the bargain; but she was determined not to go down to him. Until the last quarter of an hour, though she was acutely alive to the inconvenience of the situation, it had not struck her as awkward. Now this aspect had presented itself, and she felt a new mental disquiet which greatly increased her physical suffering. In view of her late ill-health, and the care which her husband had exercised in order that she might recover completely, the accident was most unfortunate. From that point of view, if from no other, she felt certain of Gaunt's displeasure; and a creeping terror, vague and formless, prevented her from resting. She hardly slept until after dawn, when she dropped into heavy sleep, only to wake, affrighted, about seven with a sore throat and a burning forehead.
She sat up, dizzy and sick. Yet if there was one thing more certain than another, it was that she could not possibly stay where she was. Somehow or other she must get back to Worthing at once, even though she could not stand upon her feet.
She flung herself out of bed, animated with the strength of desperation. Peering into the small, cracked mirror, she was encouraged by finding that she did not look ill. Her temperature was, as a matter of fact, 101, and her colour was the flush of fever, but she did not know that.
There was no bell in her wretched room, and she had to call repeatedly before she could make anybody hear. At last the woman appeared, and she begged soap, hot water and a towel. After a long interval, an earthenware jug, containing about a pint of liquid, was produced. With this, and a tiny comb which she kept in her vanity bag, she made what toilette she could.
It was somewhat consoling to find a good fire burning, and a cloth spread for breakfast, when she crawled downstairs, stiff and aching. Gerald had gone out for news of the car, and presently returned with milk, butter and eggs, neither of which commodities seemed to be kept in stock at the inn. He had found at Bignor a telegram from Baines, announcing a bad breakdown, but saying he hoped to be along at about 9.30. Gerald had left instructions for him to come on straight to the inn at Dilvington; and, with a great assumption of cheerfulness, hoped that their troubles were over.
Virginia hardly answered him. In spite of her desire that he should not know how ill she felt, she found it impossible to keep up appearances, and could not eat. He attributed all to her sense of the unpleasant position in which she found herself. He was acutely conscious of the fact that the car, when it arrived, would bring Ferris with it; and he now felt himself an unutterable hound to have consented to such a plan.
At a few minutes to ten, the welcome horn was heard. The girl's eyes cleared a little, she rose, and eagerly put on her hat and coat, filled with the one wish to be out of the place and away. She was at the door when the motor appeared; and as it came to a stop, she started and shrank back with a momentary loss of self-control. She had quite forgotten Ferris.
Though he had plotted and arranged the moment, Gerald was hatefully embarrassed now that it was upon him. There was a knowing, confidential flavour about Ferris's manner which was detestable. He seemed to be metaphorically winking at Gerald, who believed he would have done it actually, could he have caught his eye when Mrs. Gaunt was not looking.