Eric looked at his watch and walked aimlessly downstairs. He had forgotten to eat any luncheon, and Gaisford’s suggestion of dinner made him conscious of a head-ache and a vague feeling of sickness. He was dawdling irresolutely in the shadowy hall, trying to decide whether it was better to continue hungry or to face conversation at the club, when he heard his name called and looked up to find John Gaymer standing in front of the name-board by the fire-place.
“I was coming to return your call,” he announced.
Eric realized dully that he wanted, above all things, to avoid an altercation. The head-ache told him that; he shuddered at the thought of noise and the effort of reining his temper and barbing his tongue for a wrangle. He had a head-ache, because he was hungry; he was hungry, because he had been about Ivy’s business all day. And Ivy was in such pain that he could not bear to stay in her room. Gaymer—and Gaymer alone—was responsible; he was responsible for her agony of mind and of body; he would be responsible, if she died. It was hardly the moment for him to thrust himself into what, for all Gaisford’s bluff confidence, might at any moment become a house of death; it was hardly the atmosphere or mood in which to force a gratuitous quarrel.
“I’m afraid I’m going out,” said Eric with an effort to avoid copying the veiled bellicose tone of his companion. “I didn’t have any lunch, so I’m dining rather early.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you. Shall I find Ivy upstairs?”
Eric looked thoughtfully at the composed face and powerful frame, wondering why he took the trouble to study him so carefully and realizing with a shock that he was gauging his strength for the moment when they had to fight this out. He wished that he felt less empty and sick. One well-placed blow over the heart from Gaymer’s ready arm would probably kill him.
“She’s upstairs,” he answered. “You can’t see her, though.”
“What a slave-driver you are!,” Gaymer laughed. “I only want to speak to her for a minute.”
“It’s impossible.”
Gaymer raised his eyebrows slightly and felt for his cigarette-case. He looked vainly for a chair and then hoisted himself on to a table beside the fire-place: