Some Do Not . . ._ A Novel - Ford Madox Ford [157]
'I don't...' His face had become suddenly dark brown, scarlet and then brownish purple. He stood droopingly looking at Tietjens' boots.
'Oh! Ah! Well!' he said at last. 'See you at Macmaster's to-night...A great thing, his knighthood. First-class man.'
That had been the first Tietjens had heard of Macmaster's knighthood; he had missed looking at the honours list of that morning. Afterwards, dining alone with Sir Vincent and Lady Macmaster, he had seen, pinned up, a back view of the Sovereign doing something to Vincent; a photo for next morning's papers. From Macmaster's embarrassed hushings of Edith Ethel's explanation that the honour was for special services of a specific kind Tietjens guessed both the nature of Macmaster's service and the fact that the little man hadn't told Edith Ethel who, originally, had done the work. And--just like his girl--Tietjens had let it go at that. He didn't see why poor Vincent shouldn't have that little bit of prestige at home--under all the monuments! But he hadn't--though through all the evening Macmaster, with the solicitude and affection of a cringing Italian greyhound, had hastened from celebrity to celebrity to hang over Tietjens, and although Tietjens knew that his friend was grieved and appalled, like any woman, at his, Tietjens', going out again to France--Tietjens hadn't been able to look Macmaster again in the face...He had felt ashamed. He had felt, for the first time in his life, ashamed!
Even when he, Tietjens, had slipped away from the party--to go to his good fortune!--Macmaster had come panting down the stairs, running after him, through guests coming up. He had said:
'Wait...You're not going...I want to...' With a miserable and appalled glance he had looked up the stairs; Lady Macmaster might have come out too. With his black, short beard quivering and his wretched eyes turned down, he had said:
'I wanted to explain...This miserable knighthood...'
Tietjens patted him on the shoulder, Macmaster being on the stairs above him.
'It's all right, old man,' he had said--and with real affection: 'We've powlered up and down enough for a little thing like that not to...I'm very glad...'
Macmaster had whispered:
'And Valentine...She's not here to-night...'
He had exclaimed:
'By God!...If I thought..' Tietjens had said: 'It's all right. It's all right. She's at another party...I'm going on...'
Macmaster had looked at him doubtingly and with misery, leaning over and clutching the clammy banisters.
'Tell her...' he said...'Good God! You may be killed...I beg you...I beg you to believe...I will...Like the apple of my eye...In the swift glance that Tietjens took of his face he could see that Macmaster's eyes were full of tears.
They both stood looking down at the stone stairs for a long time.
Then Macmaster had said: 'Well...'
Tietjens had said: 'Well...2 But he hadn't been able to look at Macmaster's eyes, though he had felt his friend's eyes pitiably exploring his own face...'A backstairs way out of it,' he had thought; a queer thing that you couldn't look in the face of a man you were never going to see again!
'But by God,' he said to himself fiercely, when his mind came back again to the girl in front of him, 'this isn't going to be another backstairs exit...I must tell her...I'm damned if I don't make an effort...
She had her handkerchief to her face.
'I'm always crying,' she said...'A little bubbling spring that can be trusted to keep on...
He looked to the right and to the left. Ruggles or General Someone with false teeth that didn't fit must be coming along. The street with its sooty boskage was clean, empty and silent. She was looking at him. He didn't know how long he had been silent, he didn't know where he had been; intolerable waves urged him towards her.
After a long time he said:
'Well...'
She moved back. She said:
'I won't watch you out of sight...It is unlucky to watch anyone out of sight...But I will never...I will never cut what you said then out of my memory...' She was gone; the door shut. He had wondered what she would never cut out