CHAPTER 27.
In his bedroom at the Carlton Hotel George Bevan was packing. Thatis to say, he had begun packing; but for the last twenty minutes hehad been sitting on the side of the bed, staring into a futurewhich became bleaker and bleaker the more he examined it. In thelast two days he had been no stranger to these grey moods, and theyhad become harder and harder to dispel. Now, with the steamer-trunkbefore him gaping to receive its contents, he gave himself upwhole-heartedly to gloom.
Somehow the steamer-trunk, with all that it implied of partings andvoyagings, seemed to emphasize the fact that he was going out aloneinto an empty world. Soon he would be on board the liner, everyrevolution of whose engines would be taking him farther away fromwhere his heart would always be. There were moments when thetorment of this realization became almost physical.
It was incredible that three short weeks ago he had been a happyman. Lonely, perhaps, but only in a vague, impersonal way. Notlonely with this aching loneliness that tortured him now. What wasthere left for him? As regards any triumphs which the future mightbring in connection with his work, he was, as Mac the stage-doorkeeper had said, "blarzy". Any success he might have would be but astale repetition of other successes which he had achieved. He wouldgo on working, of course, but--. The ringing of the telephone bellacross the room jerked him back to the present. He got up with amuttered malediction. Someone calling up again from the theatreprobably. They had been doing it all the time since he had announcedhis intention of leaving for America by Saturday's boat.
"Hello?" he said wearily.
"Is that George?" asked a voice. It seemed familiar, but all femalevoices sound the same over the telephone.
"This is George," he replied. "Who are you?"
"Don't you know my voice?"
"I do not."
"You'll know it quite well before long. I'm a great talker."
"Is that Billie?"
"It is not Billie, whoever Billie may be. I am female, George."
"So is Billie."
"Well, you had better run through the list of your feminine friendstill you reach me."
"I haven't any feminine friends."
"None?"
"That's odd."
"Why?"
"You told me in the garden two nights ago that you looked on me asa pal."
George sat down abruptly. He felt boneless.
"Is--is that you?" he stammered. "It can't be--Maud!"
"How clever of you to guess. George, I want to ask you one or twothings. In the first place, are you fond of butter?"
George blinked. This was not a dream. He had just bumped his kneeagainst the corner of the telephone table, and it still hurt mostconvincingly. He needed the evidence to assure himself that he wasawake.
"Butter?" he queried. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, well, if you don't even know what butter means, I expect it'sall right. What is your weight, George?"
"About a hundred and eighty pounds. But I don't understand."
"Wait a minute." There was a silence at the other end of the wire."About thirteen stone," said Maud's voice. "I've been doing it inmy head. And what was it this time last year?"
"About the same, I think. I always weigh about the same."
"How wonderful! George!"
"Yes?"
"This is very important. Have you ever been in Florida?"
"I was there one winter."
"Do you know a fish called the pompano?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about it."
"How do you mean? It's just a fish. You eat it."
"I know. Go into details."
"There aren't any details. You just eat it."
The voice at the other end of the wire purred with approval. "Inever heard anything so splendid. The last man who mentioned pompanoto me became absolutely lyrical about sprigs of parsley and meltedbutter. Well, that's that. Now, here's another very important point.How about wall-paper?"
George pressed his unoccupied hand against his forehead.This conversation was unnerving him.
"I didn't get that," he said.
"Didn't get what?"
"I mean, I didn't quite catch what you said that time. Itsounded to me like 'What about wall-paper?'"
"It was 'What about wall-paper?' Why not?"
"But," said George weakly, "it doesn't make any sense."
"Oh, but it does. I mean, what about wall-paper for your den?"
"My den?"
"Your den. You must have a den. Where do you suppose you're goingto work, if you don't? Now, my idea would be some nice quietgrass-cloth. And, of course, you would have lots of pictures andbooks. And a photograph of me. I'll go and be taken specially. Thenthere would be a piano for you to work on, and two or three reallycomfortable chairs. And--well, that would be about all, wouldn'tit?"
George pulled himself together.
"Hello!" he said.
"Why do you say 'Hello'?"
"I forgot I was in London. I should have said 'Are you there?'"
"Yes, I'm here."
"Well, then, what does it all mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"What you've been saying--about butter and pompanos and wall-paperand my den and all that? I don't understand."
"How stupid of you! I was asking you what sort of wall-paper youwould like in your den after we were married and settled down."
George dropped the receiver. It clashed against the side of thetable. He groped for it blindly.
"Hello!" he said.
"Don't say 'Hello!' It sounds so abrupt!"
"What did you say then?"
"I said 'Don't say Hello!'"
"No, before that! Before that! You said something about gettingmarried."
"Well, aren't we going to get married? Our engagement is announcedin the Morning Post."
"But--But--"
"George!" Maud's voice shook. "Don't tell me you are going to jiltme!" she said tragically. "Because, if you are, let me know intime, as I shall want to bring an action for breach of promise.I've just met such a capable young man who will look after thewhole thing for me. He wears a bowler hat on the side of his headand calls waitresses 'Mabel'. Answer 'yes' or 'no'. Will you marryme?"
"But--But--how about--I mean, what about--I mean how about--?"
"Make up your mind what you do mean."
"The other fellow!" gasped George.
A musical laugh was wafted to him over the wire.
"What about him?"
"Well, what about him?" said George.
"Isn't a girl allowed to change her mind?" said Maud.
George yelped excitedly. Maud gave a cry.
"Don't sing!" she said. "You nearly made me deaf."
"Have you changed your mind?"
"Certainly I have!"
"And you really think--You really want--I mean, you reallywant--You really think--"
"Don't be so incoherent!"
"Maud!"
"Well?"
"Will you marry me?"
"Of course I will."
"Gosh!"
"What did you say?"
"I said Gosh! And listen to me, when I say Gosh, I mean Gosh! Whereare you? I must see you. Where can we meet? I want to see you! ForHeaven's sake, tell me where you are. I want to see you! Where areyou? Where are you?"
"I'm downstairs."
"Where? Here at the 'Carlton'?"
"Here at the 'Carlton'!"
"Alone?"
"Quite alone."
"You won't be long!" said George.
He hung up the receiver, and bounded across the room to where hiscoat hung over the back of a chair. The edge of the steamer-trunkcaught his shin.
"Well," said George to the steamer-trunk, "and what are you buttingin for? Who wants you, I should like to know!"
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