Ralph Maplestone seized his hat and marched out of the room.
Chapter Fifteen.
A Startling Proposal of Marriage.
His afternoon the Squire, in his capacity of churchwarden, spent an hour with the Vicar in his study, and then joined us for tea on the lawn. It was a hot, airless, summer afternoon, and we were all rather silent and disinclined to eat, and I felt my eyes wandering to the big grey car which stood waiting outside the gate and wishing—many things!
I wished that I had a car of my own. I wished I had my dear old Dinah, on whose back I had been wont to roam the country-side. So long as Charmion and the garden had absorbed my attention I had been contented enough, but now an overwhelming restlessness seized me. I was tired of the slow movement of my own feet. I longed to move quickly, to feel the refreshing rush of air on my cheeks once more. I wished the woman-hating, unappreciative Ralph Maplestone, had been a kind, considerate, understanding, put-your-self-in-her-place sort of man, who would have offered his time, and his car, and his services as chauffeur.
“Delphine, would you like to have a run in the car for a couple of hours or so before dinner?”
We jumped on our chairs, Delphine and I, automatically, like marionettes, the one from pleasure, the other from surprise. Had he seen? Had he noticed? The light blue eyes stared coolly ahead. For pure callous indifference their expression could not have been beaten. Coincidence! Nothing more.
“Oh, Ralph, you dear! How angelic of you! I should love it of all things. It’s so close and stuffy in this garden. It will be perfectly delicious to have a blow. Which way shall we go?”