"What cynics you public men are!" I exclaimed as I ran down the steps and turned in the direction of Chester Square.
I have said that "Providence" is not one of my star _rôles_, and I had every reason to know that my eloquence was unavailing when set to the task of converting Joyce from her militant campaign. However, I have seen stones worn away by constant dripping.... And in any case I had not been near the house for nearly two days.
"I'm afraid you can't see Joyce," Elsie told me as we shook hands. "She wouldn't go to bed when the doctor told her, and now she's really rather bad."
I was more upset by the news than I care to say, but Elsie hastened to assure me.
"It's nothing much so far," she said. "But she's got a temperature and can't sleep, and worries a good deal."
"Can't we get her away?" I exclaimed impatiently.
"I've tried, but she simply won't leave town."
It always annoys me to find any one thinking the world will come to an end unless run on his or her own favourite lines.
"If she died, some one else would have to edit it," I pointed out. "Who's doing it now?"
"Mrs. Millington. I'm afraid it's no use telling people that till they _are_ dead."
"And then it's a little late in the day," I answered irritably.
Elsie proceeded to give me the real reason for Joyce's obstinacy.
"When you're dead you don't have to take responsibility for your deputy's mistakes."
"That's it, is it? Mrs. Millington setting the Thames on fire?"
"Her zeal sometimes outruns her discretion," said Elsie with a smile. "That's what's chiefly worrying Joyce."
I picked up my hat and stick and moved towards the door.
"And Joyce is losing her nerve?" I hazarded.
"She's not up to her usual form," was all Elsie would answer.
"Give her my love," I said at the door, "and best wishes for a quick recovery. If she isn't well in two days' time, I shall carry her off by main force and put her into a nursing home."
Then I went off to lunch at the Club, and found fault with the food, the wine, the cigars and all creation. Paddy Culling opened a subscription list to buy me a box of liver pills. The Seraph--after I had been two minutes at Adelphi Terrace--said he was sorry Joyce was no better.... I thanked him for his sympathy, and sat down to read the current copy of the _New Militant_.
