"But where can I take you to?" asked astounded Gibson.
"Not me!" said Susan's gallant, with emphasis. "I suppose you think that at a caffy-resterong you can do anything? Don't make no mistake. They're the properest lot at Granpong that ever I struck in all my natural. Why, just to think of Madum opening the door, and me bringing in a young lady at midnight! Not me!"
"Oh, Tom, don't be such a beast!" moaned Susan. "The very idea! You know quite well, you do, that I'd never go to the same house. I'd die first. But, oh Tom, you must take me somewhere. We might go to the clergyman's wife."
"They don't have no clergymen in France," said Gibson, with British scorn; "only priests. And priests don't have no wives. But look here. What do you want to be took away for? What's up?"
"It's some tiff with the Missis," said Gibson derisively; "that's what it is. And I ain't going to be a party to it. Bet my feet the Missis is in the right. Fact is, this toff"--Gibson paused, and repeated the word with disdain--"this toff has given you swelled head. Not me! I ain't going to take sides against the Missis just for the sake of him. The old girl's always been too good to me."
The undress grammar and off-duty vocabulary of my two model domestics opened my eyes wide and made my ears burn. As for Ruddington, he touched my hand again, and I saw that his face was full of pain. He had guessed that I was showing him Susan.
"We must," I answered, stamping my foot on the grass. For Susan was speaking.
"No, Tom, no," she moaned; "not the Missis! It isn't a tiff with the Missis. Oh, it breaks my heart to think of it! To-night, just before I ran away, she was sitting looking at the fire. She looked that sad and lonely, I burst out crying; and if I hadn't run straight out of the house, I wouldn't have come at all. No, no, no! Not the Missis."
"What the dooce is it, then?" asked Gibson.
"It's ... it's him!" blurted Susan, desperately.
"Yes," groaned Susan, "the toff! He's coming. He wants to meet me, here."
"No. To-morrow. Eleven o'clock. Oh, Tom, I can't bear it! Take me away!"
Gibson emitted a long, low whistle. He took off his cap, crushed it up, and put it on again. Then he ducked for Susan's bag and dropped it down a few yards away, as if he wanted room. Last of all, he bent his head till he could look straight into Susan's eyes.