And in the meantime there was the thought of Becky beating at his heart. With miles between them, the thing would have been easy. Other interests would have crowded her out. But here she was definitely within reach—and he wanted her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted Madge, more than he had ever wanted any other woman. There had been a sweetness about her, a dearness.
He thought it over as he lay in bed waiting for his breakfast. Since waking, he had led Kemp a life of it.
"Of all the fools," he said, when at last the tray came.
"Anything the matter, sir?"
George lifted a silver cover. "That's not what I ordered."
"You said a kidney omelette, sir."
"I wanted the kidney broiled—not in a messy sauce. Take it away."
"I'll get you another."
"I don't want another. Take it away." He flung his napkin on the tray and turned his face to the wall. "I've got a headache. Tell Waterman that if he asks for me, that I've told you to go down and meet Miss MacVeigh."