It would have been bad enough at any time to have Kathleen hanging on his coat, straightening his tie, leaning close, smiling up in his eyes, losing him his balance, recapturing him every time he edged away. But with Marjorie as the grim witness it was maddening.
He loathed and abominated Kathleen Llewellyn, and if she had only been a man, he could cheerfully have beaten her to a pulp and chucked her out of the window. But because she was a helpless little baggage, he had to be as polite as he could while she sat and tore his plans to pieces, embittered Marjorie's heart against him, and either ended all hopes of their marriage, or furnished an everlasting rancor to be recalled in every quarrel to their dying day. Oh, etiquette, what injustices are endured in thy name!
So there he sat, sweating his soul's blood, and able only to spar for time and wonder when the gong would ring. And now she was off on a new tack:
"And where are you bound for, Harry, dear?"
"The Philippines," he said, and for the first time there was something beautiful in their remoteness.
"Perhaps we shall cross the Pacific on the same boat."
The first sincere smile he had experienced came to him: "I go on an army transport, fortu—unfortunately."
"Oh, I just love soldiers. Couldn't mamma and I go on the transport? Mamma is very fond of soldiers, too."
"I'm afraid it couldn't be arranged."
"Too bad, but perhaps we can stop off and pay you a visit. I just love army posts. So does mamma."