She gulped the cool night air thirstily, and it gave her courage. But it gave her no wisdom. She had indeed got away from Lady Clifton-Wyatt’s direct accusation of being a spy and she had brought with her unscathed the only man whose good opinion was important to her. But she did not know what she wanted to do with him, except that she did not want him to fall into Lady Clifton-Wyatt’s hands––in which she had left her reputation.
Polly Widdicombe would have gone after Marie Louise forthwith, but Polly did not intend to leave her pet foewoman in possession of the field––not that she loved Marie Louise more, but that she loved Lady Clifton-Wyatt less. Polly was dazed and bewildered by Marie Louise’s defection, but she would not accept Lady Clifton-Wyatt’s version of this story or of any other.
Besides, Polly gleaned that Marie Louise wanted to be alone, and she knew that the best gift friendship can bestow at times is solitude. The next best gift is defense in absence. Polly announced that she would not permit her friend to be traduced; and Lady Clifton-Wyatt, seeing that the men had flocked in from the dining-room and knowing that men always discount one woman’s attack on 135 another as mere cattiness, assumed her most angelic mien and changed the subject.
As usual in retreats, the first problem was transportation. Marie Louise found herself and Davidge outside Mrs. Prothero’s door, with no means of getting to Rosslyn. She had come in the Widdicombe car; Davidge had come in a hotel cab and sent it away. Luckily at last a taxi returning to the railroad terminal whizzed by. Davidge yelled in vain. Then he put his two fingers to his mouth and let out a short blast that brought the taxi-driver round. In accordance with the traffic rules, he had to make the circuit of the big statue-crowned circle in front of Mrs. Prothero’s home, one of those numerous hubs that give Washington the effect of what some one called “revolving streets.”
When he drew up at the curb Davidge’s first question was:
“How’s your gasolene supply?”
“Full up, boss.”
Marie Louise laughed. “You don’t want to spend another night in a taxi with me, I see.”
Davidge writhed at this deduction. He started to say, “I’d be glad to spend the rest of my life in a taxi with you.” That sounded a little too flamboyant, especially with a driver listening in. So he said nothing but “Huh!”