result in his not being able to go to herfor months
Certainly, if her welcome had meant what he imagined, shecould not, for the second time within a few weeks, havesubmitted so tamely to the disarrangement of their plans; adisarrangement which–his official duties considered–might,for all she knew, result in his not being able to go to herfor months.
"Please don’t come till thirtieth." The thirtieth–and itwas now the fifteenth! She flung back the fortnight on hishands as if he had been an idler indifferent to dates,instead of an active young diplomatist who, to respond toher call, had had to hew his way through a very jungle ofengagements! "Please don’t come till thirtieth." That wasall. Not the shadow of an excuse or a regret; not even theperfunctory "have written" with which it is usual to softensuch blows. She didn’t want him, and had taken the shortestway to tell him so. Even in his first moment ofexasperation it struck him as characteristic that she shouldnot have padded her postponement with a fib. Certainly hermoral angles were not draped!
"If I asked her to marry me, she’d have refused in the samelanguage. But thank heaven I haven’t!" he reflected.
These considerations, which had been with him every yard ofthe way from London, reached a climax of irony as he wasdrawn into the crowd on the pier. It did not soften hisfeelings to remember that, but for her lack of forethought,he might, at this harsh end of the stormy May day, have beensitting before his club fire in London instead of shiveringin the damp human herd on the pier. Admitting the sex’straditional right to change, she might at least have advisedhim of hers by telegraphing directly to his rooms. But inspite of their exchange of letters she had apparently failedto note his address, and a breathless emissary had rushedfrom the Embassy to pitch her telegram into his compartmentas the train was moving from the station.
Yes, he had given her chance enough to learn where he lived;and this minor proof of her indifference became, as hejammed his way through the crowd, the main point of hisgrievance against her and of his derision of himself. Halfway down the pier the prod of an umbrella increased hisexasperation by rousing him to the fact that it was raining.
Instantly the narrow ledge became a battle-ground ofthrusting, slanting, parrying domes. The wind rose with therain, and the harried wretches exposed to this doubleassault wreaked on their neighbours the vengeance they couldnot take on the elements.
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