“The landlady has made some absurd difficulty about letting me have these rooms because I came here alone.”
“She won’t make any difficulty now,” said Arnold. “I have settled that.”
Arnold smiled. After what had passed, it was an indescribable relief to him to see the humorous side of his own position at the inn.
“Certainly,” he answered. “When I asked for the lady who had arrived here alone this afternoon--”
“I was told, in your interests, to ask for her as my wife.”
Anne looked at him--in alarm as well as in surprise.
“You asked for me as your wife?” she repeated.
“Yes. I haven’t done wrong--have I? As I understood it, there was no alternative. Geoffrey told me you had settled with him to present yourself here as a married lady, whose husband was coming to join her.”
“I thought of _him_ when I said that. I never thought of _you_.”
“Natural enough. Still, it comes to the same thing (doesn’t it?) with the people of this house.”
“I will try and explain myself a little better. Geoffrey said your position here depended on my asking for you at the door (as _he_ would have asked for you if he had come) in the character of your husband.”
“No right? After what you have told me of the landlady, just think what might have happened if he had _not_ said it! I haven’t had much experience myself of these things. But--allow me to ask--wouldn’t it have been a little awkward (at my age) if I had come here and inquired for you as a friend? Don’t you think, in that case, the landlady might have made some additional difficulty about letting you have the rooms?”
It was beyond dispute that the landlady would have refused to let the rooms at all. It was equally plain that the deception which Arnold had practiced on the people of the inn was a deception which Anne had herself rendered necessary, in her own interests. She was not to blame; it was clearly impossible for her to have foreseen such an event as Geoffrey’s departure for London. Still, she felt an uneasy sense of responsibility--a vague dread of what might happen next. She sat nervously twisting her handkerchief in her lap, and made no answer.
“Don’t suppose I object to this little stratagem,” Arnold went on. “I am serving my old friend, and I am helping the lady who is soon to be his wife.”