"I'm no Nebuchadnezzar," retorted Casey, "and I want to be on my own."
"No man can be on his own if he ain't got no capital."
"Ah!" said Martin mysteriously, to baffle Casey's obstinacy. "Ah! that wants getting, that does. If it was 'orses now----"
Casey saw that it was hopeless. Nothing would budge the fat man from his yard. Cars! They were a necessary evil, not to be encouraged beyond the limit of necessity.
Ann wanted to know more about René, but Casey could tell her nothing. He repeated his eulogy of young Fourmy's skill as a driver, and added:
"We've got has-been gentlemen on the ranks, scores of them. But they're not like him. It's a treat to hear him talk, it is. They wanted him, a lot of them did, to pitch into the union, but he doesn't seem to think much of trade-unions. He says they can't do anything yet, in the way of fighting I mean, because they want to make us all middle-classes, and that ain't good enough. If I could get him to go along with me!"
"He hasn't been home all day. Didn't he say anything to you?"
"He did say one day: 'I'm getting sick of this, carting men and women like cattle.' It seems to have got on his nerves a bit. Too good for it, I suppose."
"It would be a good thing," said she, "if we went into the country, though I don't know what I'd do. I do love London and all the lights and that, and the shops."
"You should see the nights in Africa. Some parts you can walk a hundred miles and never see a light. Nothing but stars, and fewer of them than we have here. Flat and empty as the sea some of the country, going on forever and ever in the darkness."
"Ugh!" she said. "It makes me think of Renny. I don't know why. He'd like it, I think."
It was late. Near twelve o'clock. The lamps in the mews flickered as Ann returned to her rooms. The post had brought a note from René, posted in the north of London. He said: "Please tell old Martin I shall be away three days. I will come back then. I think I have it all settled in my mind. I want to get it clear for you, too. You have been so good to me, my dear, and I owe you so much.--R."
There was also a letter for him. She struggled against the desire to open it, and conquered it for that night. The next morning, however, the temptation was too strong for her, and she steamed it open. It was from a Writer to the Signet in Edinburgh to say that the late Miss Janet Fourmy had left René the residue of her estate, which, after certain small legacies had been paid, would amount to nearly four thousand pounds. The house in Scotland would also be his, and all the deceased lady's personal effects.