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Page 68
There was no doubt whatever in Mrs. Fisher's mind that a man was
infinitely preferable as a companion to a woman. Mr. Wilkins's
presence and conversation at once raised the standard of the
dinner-table from that of a bear garden--yes, a bear garden--to
that of a civilized social gathering. He talked as men talk, about
interesting subjects, and, though most courteous to Lady Caroline,
showed no traces of dissolving into simpers and idiocy whenever he
addressed her. He was, indeed, precisely as courteous to Mrs. Fisher
herself; and when for the first time at that table politics were
introduced, he listened to her with the proper seriousness on her
exhibiting a desire to speak, and treated her opinions with the
attention they deserved. He appeared to think much as she did about
Lloyd George, and in regard to literature he was equally sound. In
fact there was real conversation, and he liked nuts. How he could
have married Mrs. Wilkins was a mystery.
Lotty, for her part, looked on with round eyes. She had expected
Mellersh to take at least two days before he got to this stage, but the
San Salvatore spell had worked instantly. It was not only that he was
pleasant at dinner, for she had always seen him pleasant at dinners
with other people, but he had been pleasant all day privately--so
pleasant that he had complimented her on her looks while she was
brushing out her hair, and kissed her. Kissed her! And it was neither
good-morning nor good-night.
Well, this being so, she would put off telling him the truth
about her nest-egg, and about Rose not being his hostess after all,
till next day. Pity to spoil things. She had been going to blurt it
out as soon as he had had a rest, but it did seem a pity to disturb
such a very beautiful frame of mind as that of Mellersh this first day.
Let him too get more firmly fixed in heaven. Once fixed he wouldn't
mind anything.
Her face sparkled with delight at the instantaneous effect of San
Salvatore. Even the catastrophe of the bath, of which she had been
told when she came in from the garden, had not shaken him. Of course
all that he had needed was a holiday. What a brute she had been to him
when he wanted to take her himself to Italy. But this arrangement, as
it happened, was ever so much better, though not through any merit of
hers. She talked and laughed gaily, not a shred of fear of him left in
her, and even when she said, struck by his spotlessness, that he looked
so clean that one could eat one's dinner off him, and Scrap laughed,
Mellersh laughed too. He would have minded that at home, supposing
that at home she had had the spirit to say it.
It was a successful evening. Scrap, whenever she looked at Mr.
Wilkins, saw him in his towel, dripping water, and felt indulgent.
Mrs. Fisher was delighted with him. Rose was a dignified hostess in
Mr. Wilkins's eyes, quiet and dignified, and he admired the way she
waived her right to preside at the head of the table--as a graceful
compliment, of course, to Mrs. Fisher's age. Mrs. Arbuthnot was,
opined Mr. Wilkins, naturally retiring. She was the most retiring of
the three ladies. He had met her before dinner alone for a moment in
the drawing-room, and had expressed in appropriate language his sense
of her kindness in wishing him to join her party, and she had been
retiring. Was she shy? Probably. She had blushed, and murmured as if
in deprecation, and then the others had come in. At dinner she talked
least. He would, of course, become better acquainted with her during
the next few days, and it would be a pleasure, he was sure.
Meanwhile Lady Caroline was all and more than all Mr. Wilkins had
imagined, and had received his speeches, worked in skillfully between
the courses, graciously; Mrs. Fisher was the exact old lady he had been
hoping to come across all his professional life; and Lotty and not only
immensely improved, but was obviously au mieux--Mr. Wilkins knew what
was necessary in French--with Lady Caroline. He had been much
tormented during the day by the thought of how he had stood conversing
with Lady Caroline forgetful of his not being dressed, and had at last
written her a note most deeply apologizing, and beseeching her to
overlook his amazing, his incomprehensible obliviousness, to which she
had replied in pencil on the back of the envelop, "Don't worry." And
he had obeyed her commands, and had put it from him. The result was he
was now in great contentment. Before going to sleep that night he
pinched his wife's ear. She was amazed. These endearments . . .
What is more, the morning brought no relapse in Mr. Wilkins, and
he kept up to his high level through out the day, in spite of its being
the first day of the second week, and therefore pay day.
It being pay day precipitated Lotty's confession, which she had,
when it came to the point, been inclined to put off a little longer.
She was not afraid, she dared anything, but Mellersh was in such an
admirable humour--why risk clouding it just yet? When, however, soon
after breakfast Costanza appeared with a pile of very dirty little bits
of paper covered with sums in pencil, and having knocked at Mrs.
Fisher's door and been sent away, and at Lady Caroline's door and been
sent away, and at Rose's door and had no answer because Rose had gone
out, she waylaid Lotty, who was showing Mellersh over the house, and
pointed to the bits of paper and talked very rapidly and loud, and
shrugged her shoulders a great deal, and kept on pointing at the bits
of paper, Lotty remembered that a week had passed without anybody
paying anything to anyone, and that the moment had come to settle up.
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