CHAPTER XXIV
Marian was very angry at West’s unexpected desertion after the theater. When she reached home she sat down by the bright fire in the drawing room, which she had told the servant to keep up well, and gave full rein to her disappointment.
It would soon be time to go down again to Rottingdean; Maddison had written to say that work was progressing fast and well, and calling on her to keep her promise to return to him when he could truly report that things were going satisfactorily. She hated the very thought of him now—without any reason, as she admitted to herself. She had looked to West for rescue, and now he seemed about to fail her.
A ring at the outer bell surprised her, and, knowing her maid to be in bed, she went to answer it herself.
“Hullo,” said Mrs. Harding, as Marian opened the door and looked inquiringly out. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, come in.”
“Only for half a shake. I’ve got two boys upstairs, and I thought if you were alone, you’d like to come up for a bit. They’re both pretty oofy, and I can spare you one of them. Come along. You look spiffing.”
The angry blood in her jumped at this unexpected opportunity.
Mrs. Harding’s room reeked with cigarette smoke and the smell of spirits. Two well-dressed young men lounged one on each side of the fireplace, in front of which stood the sofa on which Mrs. Harding had evidently been lying.
“Here, boys,” she said, ushering in Marian. “Now we shall be a four. Two’s company, so’s four, when they split into twos. I’m not good at introductions: Bobby Williams and Chawles Brewer, who never gets quite so intossicated as his name suggests, and this is Marian, though I can’t call her Maid Marian. Now, you sit down that end of the sofa and keep your eye on Bobby or he’ll run you in before you know where you are. Have a drink? I’ve only got B. and S.”