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But he now saw Marguerite's father again a quite different person from the factotum.... Strange, how the house seemed forlorn! 'Something about a baby, Agg had said vaguely. And it was as though something that Mr. Haim and his wife had concealed had burst from its concealment and horrified and put a curse on the whole Grove. Something not at all nice!
Why indeed in the name of heaven should she promise her father to be back at a quarter-past nine, or at a quarter-past anything? Was she a servant? Had she no rights? Had he himself, George, no rights? A little before nine Agg arrived. Marguerite was fastening the trunk. "Now be sure, Agg," said Marguerite.
Yet she must have noticed his wounded reserve. He did not like such duplicity. He would have preferred her to be less miraculously angelic. When he re-entered the studio, Agg, who very seldom smoked, was puffing violently at a cigarette. She reclined on one elbow on the settee, her eyes fixed on the portrait of herself.
So a selection was made, and the brothers Westmar and Koll were summoned to the charge of bringing up the king. Isulf, also, and Agg and eight other men of mark were not only entrusted with the guardianship of the king, but also granted authority to administer the realm under him. These men were rich in strength and courage, and endowed with ample gifts of mind as well as of body.
She had comprehended at a glance that he had a profound and urgent need to be alone with her. She was marvellously comforting, precious beyond price. All his susceptibilities, wounded by the scene at Alexandra Grove, and further irritated by Agg, were instantaneously salved and soothed. Her tones, her scarcely perceptible gesture of succour, produced the assuaging miracle.
He had not hitherto seen her in male costume, but he would not exhibit any surprise. "Where's Marguerite?" he inquired, advancing to the Stove and rubbing his hands above it. "Restrain your ardour," said Agg lightly. "She'll appear in due season. I've told you you're before your time." George offered no retort.
It showed Agg, glass in hand, as a leering, tottering young drunkard in frills and velvet. The face was odious, but it did strongly resemble Agg's face. The hair was replaced by a bag wig. "Who did that?" "I did, of course," said Agg. She pointed to the large mirror at the opposite side of the studio. "The dickens you did!" George murmured, struck.
His sole desire was to be alone with Marguerite immediately, and he regarded the fancy costume chiefly as an obstacle to the fulfilment of that desire, because Agg could not depart until she had changed it for something else. Then his gaze fell upon a life-size oil-sketch of Agg in the eighteenth-century male dress.
He remembered what Agg had said to him about her; but what Agg had said did not appear to help him practically.... Why had he left Marguerite? Why was he standing thirty feet from her and observing her inimically? He walked back to her, sat down, and said calmly: "Listen to me, darling. Suppose we arrange now, definitely, to get married in two years' time. How will that do for you?"
"Did you tell Agg?" he asked. "What about?" "Our being engaged and so on." She started towards him. "Dearest!" she protested, not in the least irritated or querulous, but kindly, affectionately. "Without asking you first? Didn't we agree we wouldn't say anything to anybody? But we shall have to think about telling Agg." He met her and suddenly seized her. They kissed, and she shut her eyes.
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