"English villages are so charming."
"How was the General when you saw him last?" On and on like a whirligig went the silly, futile thoughts, while before me the two heads wagged, and nodded, and tossed, and a laughing conversation was kept up with apparently equal enjoyment on both sides. Delphine had a child"s capacity for enjoying the present; even when the car pulled up and she alighted before the door of the "Parish Hall," the smile was still on her face. The little treat had blown away the cobwebs; she was refreshed and ready, if not precisely anxious, for work.
"Thanks awfully, Ralph. That was as good as a hundred tonics! I do think a car is a glorious possession." Then she looked at me and nodded encouragingly. "Now it is your turn! It"s ever so much more fun in front. Ralph will be quite proud of sitting beside your bonnet!"
So after all neither of us said it, and I should never have the satisfaction of knowing if he had meant--
He opened the door, and I meekly got out and took the other seat. What was the use of making a fuss? Delphine disappeared behind the oak door, the engines whirled, and we were off again, steaming out of the village, and down the sloping road which led to the lovely sweep of the heath, the speed steadily increasing, until we were travelling at a good forty miles an hour. Four milestones flashed past before either of us spoke a word; then in desperation I made a beginning.
"She needs change, doesn"t she? It"s quite touching to see how it cheers her up."
"She?" he repeated. "Who?" He turned his eyes on me as he spoke, and they were absolutely, genuinely blank. Astounding as it appeared, he really did not know.
"Delphine, of course! Who else could I mean?"
"Oh-oh. Yes, I had forgotten all about her."
He might have been talking of a fly that for a moment had buzzed by his side. The cruel indifference of his manner stung me into quick retort.
"Yet you seemed very kind--you _were_ very kind to her a few minutes ago. Do you always forget so quickly?"
A movement of his hand reduced the speed of the engine. We had left the village far behind, and the wide high road stretched before us like a brown ribbon, sloping gently up and down the gra.s.sy slopes. For miles ahead there was not a soul in view. Ralph Maplestone stared at me and I stared back at him. Seen close at hand, his plain face had an attraction of its own. It looked strong and honest; its tints were all fresh and clean, speaking of a healthy, out-of-door life. No little child had ever clearer eyes. They didn"t look so stern as I had believed.
"What have I to remember? Delphine came for a drive; I"m glad she enjoyed it, but it is over. Why should I think of her any more?"
"Oh, no reason at all!" I said testily. I felt testy, as if from a personal injury. "Only when one has a friend, it is agreeable to believe that out of sight is not immediately out of mind. But, of course, I am a woman. Women"s memories are proverbially longer than men"s."
The speed slackened still further. Now we were rumbling along at a speed which made conversation easy. The blue eyes gave me another keen glance.
"Women burden their memories with a thousand trivialities. Men brush them aside, and keep to the few that count. In the big things of life they are less forgetful than women!"
I smiled, a slow, superior smile, and spoke in a forbearing voice:--
"Do you think you--er--_really_ understand very much about women?"
"No--I don"t. How can I? I don"t know any," he replied bluntly, and the answer was so surprisingly, illogically different from what I expected, that involuntarily I laughed, and went on laughing while he stammered and tried to explain.
"Of course I have my opinion--every fellow has. One has eyes. One can"t go through life without _seeing_. But, personally, it"s quite true. I _don"t_ know any. Never have done!"
"Your mother?"
"You would think so, but we are too much alike--tongue-tied--can"t say what we feel. She is more at home with my sister, who chatters from morning till night, and has no reticences, no susceptibilities. We care for each other; to a point we are good friends, but beyond that-- strangers."
I didn"t laugh any more.
"Your sister, then. Don"t you two--?"
"No. She was educated abroad. She married the year she came out. She lives in Scotland. Nominally we are brother and sister; actually the merest acquaintances. She"s a nice girl--generous, affectionate. But we don"t touch."
"Delphine?"
"That child!" His shoulders moved with a gesture of dismissal, as if the suggestion was too absurd for discussion. Poor Delphine, how her vanity would have suffered if she had been there at the moment! I suppose my face was expressive, for he added in quick explanation: "She"s a nice child. I"m fond of her, but she is still waiting to grow up. It"s perfectly true, Miss Wastneys, I know no women. They have been a sealed book to me."
I was sorry for the big lonely thing. It must be hard to be born with a temperament which keeps one closed, as it were, within iron doors, while all the time the poor hungry soul longs to get out. I felt glad that I was made the other way round. At the same time it seemed a good opportunity to put in a word for my own s.e.x. I straightened my back, and tried to look solemn and elderly. I spoke in deep, impressive tones:--
"Mr Maplestone, I"m sorry, but you are illogical. You acknowledge that this is a subject about which you know nothing, yet almost in the same breath you criticise and condemn. Men blame women for having no sense of justice, but they are just as bad. They are worse, and with less excuse. Women"s perceptions are so keen that they see every side of a situation, so it happens sometimes that they get confused, and appear contradictory. Men are so blind that they only see _one_ side--their own side--and in utter ignorance of all the others they proceed to lay down the law. For my part, I prefer the woman"s standpoint."
Such a blankly amazed face stared into mine! The blue eyes widened, a glimpse of strong white teeth showed between the parted lips. He gaped like a child, and said vaguely:--
"Yes, but--I don"t understand! That may all be quite true, but what on earth has it got to do with what we were talking of last?"
I bridled. Nothing on earth is more exasperating than to enlarge on one"s own pet theories, and then to find that they have fallen flat. I made my voice as chilling as possible.
"To me the connection seems obvious."
"Sorry. My stupidity, I suppose. I fail to grasp it. Will you explain?"
"You said that Delphine was not a woman. If that is so, it"s her husband"s fault--and yours! And every other man"s with whom she comes in contact. You all treat her like a child, and expect her to behave as a child, and then turn round and abuse her because she dances to your tune."
"Excuse me. Who abuses her?"
"You did. You said--"
"I said she was a charming child of whom I was very fond. Is that abuse?"
"In the--er--the connection in which you used it--in the way in which you said it, and meant it, and avoided saying something else--yes, it is."
For a moment he looked as if he were going to laugh, then met my eyes, thought better of it, and grunted instead.
"Sorry. Again I don"t quite follow. But no doubt it is my illogical mind. I should be interested to know in what way you hold me responsible for Delphine"s shortcomings?"
"I have just told you. You treat her as a child who must be fed on sweetmeats, and bribed with treats and diversions; conversationally you talk down to her level. It never occurs to you to expect her to be in earnest about any one thing."
"Well?"
"Well! Isn"t that enough? Can"t you see how such an att.i.tude must affect her character and development?"
"No, I can"t. To my mind it wouldn"t matter what the whole world thought. For good or ill, I stand for myself. What other people happened to think about me wouldn"t affect me one jot."
I said loftily:--
"You are a man. Women are different. We _do_ care. We _are_ affected.
That"s why it is so dreadfully important that we should be understood.
I know it by experience. In different surroundings, with different people, I myself am two or three totally different women--"
He asked no questions, but looked at me, silent, expectant, and lured by that fatal love of talking about oneself which exists in so many feminine hearts, I fell into the trap, and prattled thoughtlessly on:--
"At home with my younger sister, I was the one who had all the responsibility and management. She depended on me. I was the Autocrat of the Household, and everything I said was law."