Part 32 (1/2)

”It's not Julian, is it?”

In a peculiar tone Louis replied--

”Looks like him, doesn't it?” And then impulsively he yelled ”Hi!”

The figure kept on its way.

”Seeing that the inimitable Julian's still in South Africa, it can't very well be him. And, anyhow, I'm not going to run after him.”

”No, of course it can't,” Rachel a.s.sented.

Presently the returning procession was re-formed. Louis pushed the bicycle on its front wheel, and Rachel tried to help him to support the weight of the suspended part. He had attempted in vain to take the pedal off the crank.

”It's perhaps a good thing you fell just then,” said Louis. ”Because old Batch is coming in to-night, and we'd better not be late.”

”But you never told me!”

”Didn't I? I forgot,” he said blandly.

”Oh, Louis!... He's not coming for supper, I hope?”

”My child, if there's a chance of a free meal, old Batch will be on the spot.”

The unaccustomed housewife foretold her approaching shame, and proclaimed Louis to be the author of it. She began to quicken her steps.

”You certainly ought to have let me know sooner, dearest,” she said seriously. ”You really are terrible.”

Hard knocks had not hurt her. But she was hurt now. And Louis'

smile was very constrained. Her grave manner of saying ”dearest” had disquieted him.

CHAPTER X

THE CHASM

I

It is true that Rachel held Councillor Thomas Batchgrew in hatred, that she had never pardoned him for the insult which he had put upon her in the Imperial Cinema de Luxe; and that, indeed, she could never pardon him for simply being Thomas Batchgrew. Nevertheless, there was that evening in her heart a little softening towards him. The fact was that the councillor had been flattering her. She would have denied warmly that she was susceptible to flattery; even if authoritatively informed that no human being whatever is unsusceptible to flattery, she would still have protested that she at any rate was, for, like numerous young and inexperienced women, she had persuaded herself that she was the one exception to various otherwise universal rules.

It remained that Thomas Batchgrew had been flattering her. On arrival he had greeted her with that tinge of deference which from an old man never fails to thrill a girl. Rachel's pride as a young married woman was tigerishly alert and hungry that evening. Thomas Batchgrew, little by little, tamed and fed it very judiciously at intervals, until at length it seemed to purr content around him like a cat. The phenomenon was remarkable, and the more so in that Rachel was convinced that, whereas she was as critical and inimical as ever, old Batchgrew had slightly improved. He behaved ”heartily,” and everybody appreciates such behaviour in the Five Towns. He was by nature far too insensitive to notice that the married lovers were treating each other with that finished courtesy which is the symptom of a tiff or of a misunderstanding. And the married lovers, noticing that he noticed nothing, were soon encouraged to make peace; and by means of certain tones and gestures peace was declared in the very presence of the unperceiving old brute, which was peculiarly delightful to the contracting parties.

Rachel had less difficulty with the supper than she feared, whereby also her good-humour was fostered. With half a cold leg of mutton, some cheeses, and the magnificent fancy remains of an At Home tea, arrayed with the d'oyleys and embroidered cloths which brides always richly receive in the Five Towns, a most handsome and impressive supper can be concocted. Rachel was astonished at the splendour of her own table. Mr. Batchgrew treated this supper with unsurpa.s.sable tact.

The adjectives he applied to it were short and emphatic and spoken with a full mouth. He ate the supper; he kept on eating it; he pa.s.sed his plate with alacrity; he refused naught. And as the meal neared its end he emitted those natural inarticulate noises from his throat which in Persia are a sign of high breeding. Useless for Rachel in her heart to call him a glutton--his att.i.tude towards her supper was impeccable.

And now the solid part of the supper was over. One extremity of the Chesterfield had been drawn closer to the fire--an operation easily possible in its new advantageous position--and Louis as master of the house had mended the fire after his own method, and Rachel sat upright (somewhat in the manner of Mrs. Maldon) in the arm-chair opposite Mr.

Batchgrew, extended half-reclining on the Chesterfield. And Mrs. Tams entered with coffee.

”You'll have coffee, Mr. Batchgrew?” said the hostess.