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"I've brought him to apologize to Miss d'Angely, in your presence, Sir Samuel, and Lady Turnour's," said the chauffeur. "I see you know something of the story." "They know all now," said I. For Bertie's face proved the truth of my words, if they had needed proof. His eyes were swimming in tears, and he looked like a whipped school-boy.
"It's getting beyond count how many times you've saved me, and this is only our second day out," I exclaimed. "Here they come now, as they always do, when we exchange a word." I trembled guiltily, but there was no more than a vague general disapproval in Lady Turnour's eyes, the kind of expression which she thinks useful for keeping servants in their place.
"No," I said, "I call it impertinent, and I shall be obliged if you will leave Lady Turnour's room. That's the only thing you can do for me." "By Jove!" said Bertie. "What theatre were you at before you took to lady's maidin'?" To this I deigned no answer. "Anyhow, you're a rippin' little actress." Silence. "And a pretty girl. As pretty as they make 'em."
It might make her as uncomfortable as it liked, but whatever it did, it must on no account interfere with the chauffeur. We were supposed to start at ten, but a woman of Lady Turnour's type doesn't think she's making herself of enough importance unless she keeps people waiting.
"You may put, if you like, 'Lady Turnour's maid," said that young person's mistress, "if you think it would give some personal interest to your sketch for the paper." "Oh, this is for quite a different sort of thing," he explained. "Not devoted to society news at all: more for caricatures and funny bits."
I envy you your imagination, in which you can shut yourself up in a kind of armour against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." "You wouldn't envy me if you had to do Lady Turnour's hair," I sighed. The chauffeur laughed out aloud. "Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed. "I'm sure Sir Samuel would forbid, anyhow," said I. "Do you know, I don't think this trip's going to be so bad?" said he.
Look here, I can lose you your job and have you sent to the prison where naughty girls go. See what I've got in my pocket." Still grasping my frock, he scooped something out of an inner pocket of his coat, and held it for me to look at, in the hollow of his palm. I gave a little cry. It was Lady Turnour's gorgeous bursting sun.
I trembled for our reception at the château, for everything would be our fault, from the snow on the mountains to Lady Turnour's lack of a dinner dress; and the consciousness of our innocence would be our sole comfort.
"Matters have already arranged themselves," announced Mr. Jack Dane, from the door of the pump-court. "I heard Sir Samuel speak about your accommodation, and I saw that nothing was being done, so I discovered the box-room, and it is now ready, all but bed-covering. And for fear there might be trouble about that, I've put Lady Turnour's cushions and rugs on the alleged bed.
"Besides, I can't stand Lady Turnour after what's happened with you gone." "Of course you won't mind," I went on. "It's different for a man. If you were left and I going, it wouldn't matter, because you'd have the car. But I've nothing except Lady Turnour's 'transformation. Luckily, she won't want me to stop." "I think she will," he said, "because your only fault was in having an accident.
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