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MICHAEL
40
enough last night. There was I in rank rebellion to my father, and
it vexed him horribly; it did more, it grieved him."
She laid her hand on Michael's knee.
"As if I didn't know that!" she said. "We're all sorry for that,
though I should have been much sorrier if you had given in and
ceased to vex him. But there it is! Accept that, and then, my
dear, swiftly apply yourself to perceive the humour of it. And
now, about your plans!"
"I shall go to Baireuth on Wednesday, and then on to Munich," began
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Michael.
"That, of course. Perhaps you may find the humour of a Channel
crossing. I look for it in vain. Yet I don't know. . . . The man
who puts on a yachting-cap, and asks if there's a bit of a sea on.
It proves to be the case, and he is excessively unwell. I must
look out for him next time I cross. And then?"
"Then I shall settle in town and study. Oh, here's my father
coming home."
Lord Ashbridge approached down the terrace. He stopped for a
moment at the desecrated geranium bed, saw the two sitting
together, and turned at right angles and went into the house.
Almost immediately a footman came out with a long dog-lead and
advanced hesitatingly to Og. Og was convinced that he had come to
play with him, and crouched and growled and retreated and advanced
with engaging affability. Out of the windows of the library looked
Lord Ashbridge's baleful face. . . . Aunt Barbara swayed out of
her chair, and laid a trembling hand on Michael's shoulder.
"I shall go and apologise for Og," she said. "I shall do it quite
sincerely, my dear. But there are points."
CHAPTER IV
Michael practised a certain mature and rather elderly precision in
the ordinary affairs of daily life. His habits were almost unduly
tidy and punctual; he answered letters by return of post, he never
mislaid things nor tore up documents which he particularly desired
should be preserved; he kept his gold in a purse and his change in
a trousers-pocket, and in matters of travelling he always arrived
at stations with plenty of time to spare, and had such creature
comforts as he desired for his journey in a neat Gladstone bag
above his head. He never travelled first-class, for the very
simple and adequate reason that, though very well off, he preferred
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to spend his money in ways that were more productive of usefulness
or pleasure; and thus, when he took his place in the corner of a
second-class compartment of the Dover-Ostend express on the
Wednesday morning following, he was the only occupant of it.
Probably he had never felt so fully at liberty, nor enjoyed a
MICHAEL
41
keener zest for life and the future. For the first time he had
asserted his own indisputable right to stand on his own feet, and
though he was genuinely sorry for his father's chagrin at not being
able to tuck him up in the family coach, his own sense of
independence could not but wave its banners. There had been a
second interview, no less fruitless than the first, and Lord
Ashbridge had told him that when next his presence was desired at
home, he would be informed of the fact. His mother had cried in a
mild, trickling fashion, but it was quite obvious that in her heart
of hearts she was more concerned with a bilious attack of peculiar
intensity that had assailed Petsy. She wished Michael would not be
so disobedient and vex his father, but she was quite sure that
before long some formula, in diplomatic phrase, would be found on
which reconciliation could be based; whereas it was highly
uncertain whether any formula could be found that would produce the
desired effect on Petsy, whose illness she attributed to the shock
of Og's sudden and disconcerting appearance on Saturday, when all
Petsy's nervous force was required to digest the copious cream.
Consequently, though she threw reproachful glances at Michael,
those directed at Barbara, who was the cause of the acuter tragedy,
were pointed with more penetrating blame. Indeed, it is
questionable whether Lady Ashbridge would have cried at all over
Michael's affairs had not Petsy's also been in so lamentable and
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critical a state.
Just as the train began to move out of the station a young man
rushed across the platform, eluded the embrace of the guard who
attempted to stop him with amazing agility, and jumped into
Michael's compartment. He slammed the door after him, and leaned
out, apparently looking for someone, whom he soon saw.
"Just caught it, Sylvia," he shouted. "Send on my luggage, will
you? It's in the taxi still, I think, and I haven't paid the man.
Good-bye, darling."
He waved to her till the curving line took the platform out of
sight, and then sat down with a laugh, and eyes of friendly
interest for Michael.
"Narrow squeak, wasn't it?" he said gleefully. "I thought the
guard had collared me. And I should have missed Parsifal."
Michael had recognised him at once as he rushed across the
platform; his shouting to Sylvia had but confirmed the recognition;
and here on the day of his entering into his new kingdom of liberty
was one of its citizens almost thrown into his arms. But for the
moment his old invincible habit of shyness and sensitiveness
forbade any responsive lightness of welcome, and he was merely
formal, merely courteous.
"And all your luggage left behind," he said. "Won't you be
dreadfully uncomfortable?"
"Uncomfortable? Why?" asked Falbe. "I shall buy a handkerchief
and a collar every day, and a shirt and a pair of socks every other
day till it arrives."
MICHAEL
42
Michael felt a sudden, daring impulse. He remembered Aunt
Barbara's salutary remarks about crossness being the equivalent of
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thinking about oneself. And the effort that it cost him may be
taken as the measure of his solitary disposition.
"But you needn't do that," he said, "if--if you will be good enough
to borrow of me till your things come."
He blurted it out awkwardly, almost brusquely, and Falbe looked
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