A minor question which troubled Henry, as they ascended the stone stairs at Chenies Street, was this: Should he kiss Geraldine in front of Tom? He decided that it was not only his right, but his duty, to kiss her in the privacy of her own flat, with none but a relative present. 'Kiss her I will!' his thought ran. And kiss her he did. Nothing untoward occurred. 'Why, of course!' he reflected. 'What on earth was I worrying about?' He was conscious of glory. And he soon saw that Tom really was impressed by Geraldine. Tom's eyes said to him: 'You're not such a fool as you might have been.'
Geraldine scolded Tom for his behaviour at Mrs. Ashton Portway's, and Tom replied in Tom's manner; and then, when they were all at ease, she turned to Henry.
'My poor friend,' she said, 'I've got bad news.'
She handed him a letter from her brother in Leicester, from which it appeared that the brother's two elder children were down with scarlatina, while the youngest, three days old, and the mother, were in a condition to cause a certain anxiety ... and could Geraldine come to the rescue?
'Oh yes,' she said. 'I've arranged with Mr. Snyder, and wired Teddy that I'll arrive early to-morrow.'
She spoke in an extremely matter-of-fact tone, as though there were no such things as love and ecstasy in the world, as though to indicate that in her opinion life was no joke, after all.
'And what about me?' said Henry. He thought: 'My shrewd, capable girl has to sacrifice herself--and me--in order to look after incompetent persons who can't look after themselves!'
'You'll be all right,' said she, still in the same tone.
'Can't I run down and see you?' he suggested.
She laughed briefly, as at a pleasantry, and so Henry laughed too.
'With four sick people on my hands!' she exclaimed.
'How long shall you be away?' he inquired.
'You'd better come back to Paris with me for a week or so, my son,' said Tom. 'I shall leave the day after to-morrow.'
And now Henry laughed, as at a pleasantry. But, to his surprise, Geraldine said:
'Yes, do. What a good idea! I should like you to enjoy yourself, and Paris is so jolly. You've been, haven't you, dearest?'
'No,' Henry replied. 'I've never been abroad at all.'
'_Never?_ Oh, that settles it. You must go.'