Linda Lee, Incorporated Part 16

"With you, anywhere. But...." He mustered an unconvincing grin. "Oh, it's all right, of course. But Julie Allingham--you know--really!"

Lucinda's mouth tightened, for an instant her eyes held a sullen light.

"How tiresome! You sound just like Bel. How often have I heard him use almost the same words: 'Julie Allingham--you know--really!'"

"Sorry," Dobbin said stiffly.

"What's the matter with Julie Allingham?" Lucinda demanded in a pet.

"She's amusing, I like her."

"Then there's nothing more to be said."

"Oh, you're all alike, you, Bel, and all the rest of you!"

"Think so?"

"What if Julie has made history of a few husbands? At least, she's been honest about her changes of heart; when she tired of one, she got rid of him legally before taking on another. I call that more decent treatment than most men give their wives."

"Never having had a wife, can't argue."

"Oh, you sound more like Bel every minute! Do come along."

All at once her succes had evaporated into thin air, the flavour of it, that had been so sweet, had gone flat, like champagne too long uncorked.

And all (she thought) because Dobbin with his stupid prejudices had reminded her of Bel!

It began to seem as if there might have been more truth than she had guessed in her a.s.sertion that men were all alike in their att.i.tude toward women, toward their wives and toward--the others.

But if that were so (surely she wasn't the first to glimpse an immortal truth) why did women ever marry?

And why, in the name of reason! having once worried through the ordeal of having a husband, did any woman ever repeat an experiment which experience should have taught her was predestined to prove a failure?

She emerged from a brown study to find herself in the car, with Dobbin at her side watching her thoughtfully.

"Cross with me, Cinda?"

With an effort Lucinda shrugged out of her ill-humour.

"No, of course not. With myself, rather, for being a silly. Dobbin: you're a dear."

"I know," he agreed with comic complacence; "but it doesn't get me anywhere."

"You're not very flattering. I don't tell every man he's a dear."

"I'm wondering what the term means to you."

"It means a great deal."

"But what are the privileges and appurtenances of a dear's estate in your esteem? Does it carry the right to take liberties?"

"It might be worth your while to try and find out."

"Well.... It's been a question in my mind ever since last night, and something you said just now.... Is the inference justified, you and Druce aren't getting along too well?"

"Oh, do stop reminding me of Bel! I do so want to forget him for tonight."

"Then it's worse than I thought."

"It's worse than anybody thinks that doesn't know, Dobbin."

"So he hasn't changed...."

"How do you mean?"

"Why, I used to know Bellamy pretty well, pal around with him and that sort of thing...."

"No," said Lucinda slowly, eyes straight ahead--"if you mean what I mean, Bel hasn't changed."

"Then...." Daubeney found a hand which Lucinda resigned to his without a struggle. "As a man who truly loves you, dear, and always has, I think the right is mine to ask yet another question: What are you going to do?"

She shook her head dolefully: "I don't know yet."

"You said last night you were still in love...."

"Last night it was true."

"But today----?"

"I don't know."

"I won't ask you what has happened, Cinda----"

"Please don't. I don't want to talk about it."

"Only I must know one thing: Is there anyone else--with you, I mean?"

Lucinda met those devoted eyes honestly. "No, Dobbin, I'm sorry--not even you...."

"Then that's all right. No need for either of us to worry. You'll come through with flying colours. Only, don't do anything in haste, and right or wrong, count on me."

Lucinda gave his fingers a friendly pressure and disengaged her hand.

"Dear Dobbin," she said gently.

The car was pulling in toward a corner.

XII