Severance accepted the invitation to the Ritz. His principal reason for doing so was because he knew it would enrage Garth.
It was a strange and strained luncheon, for those present (with the exception of "Pobbles") talked very little and thought so much that it seemed to each one as if his or her thoughts shrieked aloud or shot from the head in streaks of blue lightning.
Marise thought, "What comes next? What does He mean to do?" And "He," with a capital "H," was no longer Severance, but this stranger, Garth.
Mrs. Sorel thought, "How are we going to get rid of the man? I'm sure he means mischief. Shall I appeal to Lord Severance, or would that make matters worse?"
Severance thought, "How am I to get some time alone with Marise, and come to an understanding before I sail to-morrow morning? How are we to arrange about our letters and cables?"
And Garth thought, "What will She say when she finds out what I've arranged at the Plaza?"
As for Lord Pobblebrook, he had only vague, pleasant thoughts such as men of his type do have at a wedding luncheon with plenty of champagne. It was a very good luncheon, for they do things well at the Ritz, and the champagne was a last song of glory before America went "dry."
At last, when Severance had to give up hope of a whispered word with Marise, he was obliged to declare his hand. "I'll call at the theatre to-night to say good-bye if you don't mind," he announced aloud, with a casual air. "I suppose you won't hand things over to your understudy, in spite of what's happened to-day?"
"I shall play to-night, of course," said Marise.
"And every night," added Mums.
Silence followed her words.
"Won't you come back to the Plaza with us, Lord Pobblebrook?" asked Mrs. Sorel. "If you have never been there, I'd like you to see what a charming hotel it is. Next time you run over from dear England, you might like to try it for yourself. Major Garth, I'm sorry to say, is obliged to attend to business this afternoon—business concerned with his mission, so unfortunately—unless you'll go with us—my daughter and I will be obliged to taxi back alone."
"Of course I'll come, with pleasure!" heartily consented Pobbles.
"My business doesn't begin quite so early," said Garth. "If you'll drive with Mrs. Sorel, sir, I'll take my wife as far as the Plaza."
If Mums could have stabbed her son-in-law, not fatally but painfully, with a stiletto-flash from her eyes, it would have given her infinite satisfaction to do so. As she could not, she had to confess herself worsted for the moment; for Lord Pobblebrook was the Colonel of Lord Severance as well as of Major Garth; and it was for such as he that the conventional farce of this wedding had taken place. He must not be allowed to suspect that anything was wrong, or Tony's whole elaborate scheme might be wrecked. It was most probable that Lord Pobblebrook and Mr. Ionides belonged to some of the same London clubs and met now and then.
Marise was oddly dazed at finding herself alone in a taxi with Garth, bound for the Plaza Hotel, which she thought of as "home." She had expected that Tony or Mums would succeed in rescuing her, but neither had risen to the occasion: and the girl realised that this lack of initiative on their part was due to the presence of Pobbles. She hardly knew whether to be more vexed or amused at Garth's triumph (she supposed that he considered it such); but her lips twitched with that fatal sense of humour which Mums so disapproved.
"It is rather funny, isn't it?" said her companion.
Marise stiffened. This was a critical moment. Much depended upon the start she made on stepping over the threshold of this strange situation. She must be careful to keep the whip hand.
"What I was laughing at is funny, in a way," she grudged. "It occurred to me that it was smart of you to bring your Colonel to—to—the—er——"
"Show," suggested Garth.
"If you like to call it that."
"I thought the word pretty well described it from your point of view," explained Garth.
Marise looked straight at him.
"What was it from yours? It can't have been much more."
"I don't feel bound to tell you what it was from mine."
"Oh, well, you needn't!" Her chin went up. "I'm not really curious."
"Why should you be? You'll find out in time."
A spark lit the blue eyes under the blue hat.
"I do hope you're not planning to spring any surprises on me, Major Garth," she said, in an acid tone that was a youthful copy of Mums, "because, if you are, it will only lead to unpleasantness. Whereas, if you keep to the spirit of the bargain, we——"
"Allow me to point out," Garth cut in, with an impersonal air of detachment which puzzled her, "that you yourself have 'queered' the 'bargain.'"
"I don't know what you mean," exclaimed Marise.
"That's another instance of your not thinking things out beforehand," he said. "If you'd stopped to reflect a minute before you proposed to marry me this morning you'd have seen what you were up against."
Marise felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as if the man had slapped them with the flat of his big hand.
"What a way of putting it!" she flashed at him. "You may be a hero and all that—no doubt you are, as you're a V.C. But as a man—a gentleman—I'm afraid you've got quite a lot to learn."
"Of course I have," said Garth. "You knew I was only a temporary gentleman. I heard Severance state the fact to you on shipboard when he was telling you some of my other disadvantages. Scratch a temporary gentleman, and under the surface you find——"
"What?" Marise threw into a pause.
"The things you'll find in me, when you know me better."
"Oh!" she breathed. And on second thoughts added, "I don't intend to 'scratch' you, and find things under the surface. I don't suppose I shall ever know you much better."
"Call it worse, then," he suggested.
"Neither better, nor worse!"
"Yet you've just promised to take me for both."
"That meant nothing, as you know very well."
"I do not know anything of the sort."
"Then you are a 'temporary gentleman' indeed! We spoke just now of that bargain——"
"Which, through your own actions, doesn't exist."
"Of course it exists. You talk in ri............