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Thousandth Woman

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[Pg 146] <h2>X THE WEEK OF THEIR LIVES</h2> "Toye's gone back to Italy," said Cazalet. "He says he may be away only a week. Let's make it the week of our lives!" The scene was the little room it pleased Blanche to call her parlor, and the time a preposterously early hour of the following forenoon. Cazalet might have 'planed down from the skies into her sunny snuggery, though his brand-new Burberry rather suggested another extravagant taxicab. But Blanche saw only his worn excited face; and her own was not at its best in her sheer amazement. If she had heard the last two sentences,[Pg 147] to understand them at the time she would have felt bound to take them up first, and to ask how on earth Mr. Toye could affect her plans or pleasures. But such was the effect of the preceding statement that all the rest was several moments on the way to her comprehension, where it arrived, indeed, more incomprehensible than ever, but not worth making a fuss about then. "Italy!" she had ejaculated meanwhile. "When did he go?" "Nine o'clock last night." "But"—she checked herself—"I simply can't understand it, that's all!" "Why? Have you seen him since the other afternoon?" His manner might have explained those other two remarks, now bothering her when it was too late to notice them; on the other hand, she was by no means sure[Pg 148] that it did. He might simply dislike Toye, and that again might explain his extraordinary heat over the argument at Littleford. Blanche began to feel the air somewhat heavily charged with explanations, either demanded or desired; they were things she hated, and she determined not to add to them if she could help it. "I haven't set eyes on him again," she said. "But he's been seen here—in a taxi." "Who saw him?" "Martha—if she's not mistaken." This was a little disingenuous, as will appear; but that impetuous Sweep was in a merciful hurry to know something else. "When was this, Blanche?" "Just about dark—say seven or so. She owns it was about dark," said Blanche, though she felt ashamed of herself. "Well, it's just possible. He left me[Pg 149] about six; said he had to see some one, too, now I think of it. But I'd give a bit to know what he was doing, messing about down here at the last moment!" Blanche liked this as little as anything that Cazalet had said yet, and he had said nothing that she did like this morning. But there were allowances to be made for him, she knew. And yet to strengthen her knowledge, or rather to let him confirm it for her, either by word or by his silence, she stated a certain case for him aloud. "Poor old Sweep!" she laughed. "It's a shame that you should have come home to be worried like this." "I am worried," he said simply. "I think it's just splendid, all you're doing for that poor man, but especially the way you're doing it." "I wish to God you wouldn't say that, Blanche!" [Pg 150] He paid her the compliment of speaking exactly as he would have spoken to a man; or rather, she happened to be the woman to take it as a compliment. "But I do say it, Sweep! I've heard all about it from Charlie. He rang me up last night." "You're on the telephone, are you?" "Everybody is in these days. Where have you lived? Oh, I forgot!" And she laughed. Anything to lift this duet of theirs out of the minor key! "But what does old Charlie really think of the case? That's more to the point," said Cazalet uneasily. "Well, he seemed to fear there was no chance of bail before the adjourned hearing. But I rather gathered he was not going to be in it himself?" "No. We decided on one of those sportsmen who love rushing in where a[Pg 151] family lawyer like Charlie owns to looking down his nose. I've seen the chap, and primed him up about old Savage, and our find in the foundations. He says he'll make an example of Drinkwater, and Charlie says they call him the Bobby's Bugbear!" "But surely he'll have to tell his client who's behind him?" "No. He's just the type who would have rushed in, anyhow. And it'll be time enough to put Scruton under obligations when I've got him off!" Blanche looked at the troubled eyes avoiding hers, and thought that she had never heard of a fine thing being done so finely. This very shamefacedness appealed to her intensely, and yet last night Charlie had said that old Sweep was in such tremendous spirits about it all! Why was he so down this morning? [Pg 152] She only knew she could have taken his hand, but for a very good reason why she could not. She had even to guard against an equivocally sympathetic voice or manner, as she asked, "How long did they remand him for?" "Eight days." "Well, then, you'll know the best or the worst to-day week!" "Yes!" he said eagerly, almost himself again. "But, whichever way it goes, I'm afraid it means trouble for me, Blanche; some time or other I'll tell you why; but that's why I want this to be the week of our lives." So he really meant what he had said before. The phrase had been no careless misuse of words; but neither, after all, did it necessarily apply to Mr. Toye. That was something. It made it easier for Blanche not to ask questions. [Pg 153] Cazalet had gone out on the balcony; now he called to her; and there was no taxi, but a smart open car, waiting in the road, its brasses blazing in the sun, an immaculate chauffeur at the wheel. "Whose is that, Sweep?" "Mine, for the week I'm talking about! I mean ours, if you'd only buck up and get ready to come out! A week doesn't last forever, you know!" Blanche ran off to Martha, who fussed and hindered her with the best intentions. It would have been difficult to say which was the more excited of the two. But the old nurse would waste time in perfectly fatuous reminiscences of the very earliest expeditions in which Mr. Cazalet had lead and Blanche had followed, and what a bonny pair they had made even then, etc. Severely snubbed on that subject, she took to peering at her mistress, once her bairn,[Pg 154] with furtive eagerness and impatience; for Blanche, on her side, looked as though she had something on her mind, and, indeed, had made one or two attempts to get it off. She had to force it even in the end. "There's just one thing I want to say before I go, Martha." "Yes, dearie, yes?" "You know when Mr. Toye called yesterday, and I was out?" "Oh, Mr. Toye; yes, I remember, Miss Blanche." "Well, I don't want you to say that he came in and waited half an hour in vain; in fact, not that he came in at all, or that you're even sure you saw him, unless, of course, you're asked." "Who should ask me, I wonder?" "Well, I don't know, but there seems to be a little bad blood between Mr. Toye and Mr. Cazalet." [Pg 155] Martha looked for a moment as though she were about to weep, and then for another moment as though she would die of laughing. But a third moment she celebrated by making an utter old fool of herself, as she would have been told to her face by anybody but Blanche, whose yellow hair was being disarranged by the very hands that had helped to imprison it under that motor-hat and veil. "Oh, Blanchie, is that all you have to tell me?" said Martha. And then the week of their lives began. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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