I hesitated; then resolved on a taradiddle,—in Marjorie’s interest.
‘Marjorie is high-strung,—extremely sensitive. Her imagination is quickly aflame. Perhaps, last night, you drove her as far as was safe. You heard for yourself how, in consequence, she suffered. You don’t want people to say you have driven her into a lunatic asylum.’
‘I—good heavens, no! I—I’ll send for the doctor directly I get home,—I—I’ll have the best opinion in town.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,—you’ll only make her worse. What you have to do is to be patient with her, and let her have peace.—As for this affair of Lessingham’s, I have a suspicion that it may not be all such plain sailing as she supposes.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean nothing. I only wish you to understand that until you hear from me again you had better let matters slide. Give the girl her head.’
‘Give the girl her head! H-haven’t I—I g-given the g-girl her h-head all her l-life!’ He looked at his watch. ‘Why, the day’s half gone!’ He began scurrying towards the front door, I following at his heels. ‘I’ve got a committee meeting on at the club,—m-most important! For weeks they’ve been giving us the worst food you ever tasted in your life,—p-played havoc with my digestion, and I—I’m going to tell them if—things aren’t changed, they—they’ll have to pay my doctor’s bills.—As for that man, Lessingham—’
As he spoke, he himself opened the hall door, and there, standing on the step was ‘that man Lessingham’ himself. Lindon was a picture. The Apostle was as cool as a cucumber. He held out his hand.
‘Good morning, Mr Lindon. What delightful weather we are having.’
Lindon put his hand behind his back,—and behaved as stupidly as he very well could have done.