Kemp stood and looked at the figure humped up under the light silk cover. He had long patience. He might have been a stick or stone under his master's abuse. But he was not a stick or a stone. It seemed too that suddenly his soul expanded. No man had ever called him a fool, and he had worn a decoration in France. He knew what he was going to do. And for the first time in many months he felt himself a free man.
George's decision to have Kemp meet Madge had been founded on the realization that it would be
unbearably awkward if he should pass Becky on the road. She had sent back his pendant without a word, and there was no telling how she was taking it. If the thing were ever renewed—and his mind dwelt daringly on that possibility, explanations would be easy—but he couldn't make explanation if she saw him first in a car with another woman.
It was thus that Madge, arriving on the noon train, found Kemp waiting for her. Kemp was very fond of Miss MacVeigh. She was not a snob and there were so many snobs among Dalton's friends. She talked to him as if he were a man and not a mechanical toy. Dalton, on the other hand, treated his valet as if he were a marionette to be pulled by strings, an organ controlled by stops, or a typewriter operated by keys.
Major Prime had come down on the same train. Randy, driving Little Sister, was there to meet him.
"It is good to get back," the Major said. "I've been homesick."
"We missed you a lot. Yesterday we had a barbecue, and you should have been here——"
"I wanted to be, Randy. I hope you are not going to turn me out with the rest of the boarders when you roll in affluence."
"Affluence, nothing—but I sold two cars yesterday——"
"Not bad for a poet."