Some Do Not . . ._ A Novel - Ford Madox Ford [3]
Tietjens said:
'I'll come in to-morrow night if I may. That will give Ferens time to get back into his attic.'
That morning, at breakfast, four months having passed, Tietjens had received a letter from his wife. She asked, without any contrition at all, to be taken back. She was fed-up with Perowne and Brittany.
Tietjens looked up at Macmaster. Macmaster was already half out of his chair, looking at him with enlarged, steel-blue eyes, his beard quivering. By the time Tietjens spoke Macmaster had his hand on the neck of the cut-glass brandy decanter in the brown wood tantalus.
Tietjens said:
'Sylvia asks me to take her back.'
Macmaster said:
'Have a little of this!'
Tietjens was about to say: 'No,' automatically. He changed that to:
'Yes. Perhaps. A liqueur glass.'
He noticed that the lip of the decanter agitated, tinkling on the glass. Macmaster must be trembling. Macmaster, with his back still turned, said:
'Shall you take her back?'
Tietjens answered:
'I imagine so.' The brandy warmed his chest in its descent. Macmaster said:
'Better have another.'
Tietjens answered:
'Yes. Thanks.'
Macmaster went on with his breakfast and his letters. So did Tietjens. Ferens came in, removed the bacon plates and set on the table a silver water-heated dish that contained poached eggs and haddock. A long time afterwards Tietjens said:
'Yes, in principle I'm determined to. But I shall take three days to think out the details.'
He seemed to have no feelings about the matter. Certain insolent phrases in Sylvia's letter hung in his mind. He preferred a letter like that. The brandy made no difference to his mentality, but it seemed to keep him from shivering.
Macmaster said:
'Suppose we go down to Rye by the 11.40. We could get a round after tea now the days are long. I want to call on a parson near there. He has helped me with my book.'
Tietjens said:
'Did your poet know parsons? But of course he did_ Duchemin is the name, isn't it?
Macmaster said:
'We could call about two-thirty. That will be all right in the country. We stay till four with a cab outside. We can be on the first tee at five. If we like the course we'll stay next day: then Tuesday at Hythe and Wednesday at Sandwich. Or we could stay at Rye all your three days.'
'It will probably suit me better to keep moving,' Tietjens said. 'There are those British Columbia figures of yours. If we took a cab now I could finish them for you in an hour and twelve minutes. Then British North Africa can go to the printers. It's only 8.30 now.'
Macmaster said, with some concern:
'Oh, but you couldn't: I can make our going all right with Sir Reginald.'
Tietjens said:
'Oh yes, I can. Ingleby will be pleased if you tell him they're finished. I'll have them ready for you to give him when he comes at ten.'
Macmaster said:
'What an extraordinary fellow you are, Chrissie. Almost a genius!'
'Oh,' Tietjens answered: 'I was looking at your papers yesterday after you'd left and I've got most of the totals in my head. I was thinking about them before I went to sleep. I think you make a mistake in over-estimating the pull of Klondyke this year on the population. The passes are open, but relatively no one is going through. I'll add a note to that effect.'
In the cab he said:
'I'm sorry to bother you with my beastly affairs. But how will it affect you and the office?'
'The office,' Macmaster said, 'not at all. It is supposed that Sylvia is nursing Mrs Satterthwaite abroad. As for me, I wish...'--he closed his small, strong teeth--'I wish you would drag the woman through the mud. By God I do! Why should she mangle you for the rest of your life? She's done enough!'
Tietjens gazed out over the flap of the cab.
That explained a question. Some days before, a young man, a friend of his wife's rather than of his own, had approached him in the club and had said that he hoped Mrs Satterthwaite--his wife's mother--was better. He said now:
'I see. Mrs Satterthwaite