"I remember," he said slowly, "I remember catching a fleeting glance--a
very fleeting glance--of the anxious look upon your face as you cleared
the second celery bed. At the time I thought--but never mind. I now
realize that the solicitude there portrayed was on our account. Woman,
I fear we judged your brother too hastily."
"I was going for assistance," I said.
"And lost your way," said Berry. He turned to his wife: "M'dear, I'm
afraid he will always remain a worm. What a thought."
"Make it toads," said I. "It's safer."
CHAPTER IX
A POINT OF HONOUR
"The point is--" I began.
The girl looked up quickly.
"What?"
"This," said I. "Would you be alarmed or offended if I put my
services--"
"Such as they are."
"Such as they are, thank you, at your disposal?"
"Is that an offer or a question?"
"Neither," said I. "It's a point."
She knitted her brows.
"What does one do with points?"
"One deals with them."
"M'm. Well, you can see what you can do, if you like. You mustn't be
rough with the bag. It's sensitive, for all that it's made of pigskin."
"May I have the alleged key? Thank you. It is not by force, but by
persuasion, that I--ahem--gain my points."
"I should think you're an only child."
"I am," I said. "That's why."
We were in a first-class compartment on the London South Western
Railway, rushing away from London, down to Dorsetshire, with its
heights and woodland and its grey stone walls. There had been some
trouble at Waterloo, and it was only at the last moment that an
'engaged' label had been torn off our carriage window and we had been
permitted to enter. The other occupant of the carriage--an aged member
of the House of Lords--after regarding us with disapproval for ninety
miles, had left the train at the last station. Then my lady had turned
to her nice new dressing--bag and had sought to open it. In vain she
had inserted a key. In vain she had attempted to insert other keys,
obviously too large. Therein she had shown her feminism. I love to
see a woman do a womanly thing. Finally she had sighed and pushed her
dark hair back from her temples with a gesture of annoyance. The time
seeming ripe, I had spoken.
Now I turned to the obstructive wards. All she had done was to
double-lock it, and I had it open in a moment.
"Thank you so much."
"Not at all. I was brought up as a burglar. What a blessed thing the
old earl's left us."
"I suppose it is."
"Thank you so much."
"Not at all."
"You see if I had offered my services--such as they are--in his
presence, he would probably have challenged me, and stuck your glove in
his hat."
She laughed.
"He looked rather like it, didn't he?"
"And, of course, according to his lights, you should still be
endeavouring to pull the alarm cord."
"Instead of which--"
"You are going to put your feet up and smoke one of my cigarettes.
It's not a smoking carriage so you'll be able to taste the tobacco."
"Is this another point?" she said, smiling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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