'It wasn't your fault any more than it was mine.'
'It was my fault to the extent that, although I lied about it afterwards to make things easier for us both, the comet never really caused me to lose consciousness of what I was doing. I knew quite well that I could have brought you to your senses by slapping your face and that I ought to have done so; but I didn't.'
'Well, I lied, too, for the same reason. I don't mind telling you now. I was never out of my senses and I knew all the time that by one word I could have stopped you; but there came a point when I felt that, whatever happened afterwards, it was worth it, so I deliberately let myself go.'
He nodded. 'It was just the same with me.'
'I get the same feeling sometimes with Derek,' she confessed.
'That's hardly surprising. Your guilty conscience built up in your mind a complex adverse to Sam. Derek's a good-looking chap, and propinquity can play the very devil with their feelings when two attractive, healthy people are thrown together a great deal. D'you think you would be happy with him?'
'Yes; for a time, at least. Perhaps for a long time. But how does that square with your theory of types? Derek is even less complex than Sam or Margery.'
'Perhaps. But in such a tie-up you would be the dominating partner. You know him so intimately that you could play on his every mood, like a pianist on the keyboard of a piano. It's the easy way, and such unions are often very happy. There's practically no mental strain at all, you see, because the senior partner runs the whole outfit, and providing they don't hanker after spiritual companionship they get everything else they want with very little effort.'
'It might not be a bad thing, then?' said Lavina.
He laughed. 'As you're bone-lazy it might be a very good one!'
'Am I lazy—in the real sense?' she smiled.
'No. You have one of the most active minds I've ever met, but, physically, you'd like a man who'd be prepared to wait on you hand and foot, wouldn't you?'
'I suppose I should.'
'And Derek fills that bill admirably.'
'Yes, but I'm not quite certain yet that I want him to. You see, life with Derek could be grand for a bit but he's still to some extent an unknown quantity; whereas I know Sam's worst points and his best. I can't make up my mind whether to take a gamble on a new deal turning up trumps or to stick to something very fine; because, of course, I only have to lift my little finger to get Sam back.'
'Yes,' Hemmingway agreed, 'and perhaps that might suit you best.'
Into the Blizzard
Lavina remained silent for a moment. Suddenly she shivered. Sitting there motionless had caused her to become very cold although she had not noticed it while they had been talking. She shook herself and stood up. 'All you've said has been terribly interesting and it's helped me a lot, much more than even you can realise. But I'm simply frozen. Let's get upstairs now and warm ourselves by the fires.'
That night she was unusually silent, but even Hemmingway, who guessed that she was preoccupied with their conversation of earlier in the day, could not tell whether her inclination was veering towards a definite understanding with Derek or a determination to recapture Sam.
On the eighth morning the blizzard had ceased, so they took to the road again. Their enforced rest had made them the more eager to push on and after they had passed the roof-tcps of Sittingbourne they made good going on a long, straight stretch of road, covering six miles before they halted at the village of Ospringe. They put up there for the night in the straw-filled loft of a high barn, there being no necessity for them to look for a house which might contain stores as they had renewed their supplies from the mansion outside Sittingbourne.
The next was a harder day as they lost their way while passing Faversham; but they found it again and accomplished another five miles, arriving late in the afternoon at Broughton Street. Snow had fallen again during the preceding night, and with that of the blizzard which had held them up for a day, it now buried all but the tallest houses to near their roofs; while the cottages and two-storeyed buildings were entirely submerged, only their gables being indicated by hillocks in the snow.
From Broughton Street they proceeded towards Canterbury, which was easily discernible in the distance as its Cathedral tower could still be seen dominating the almost buried city. When they were within a mile of it Gervaise called to Lavina to incline right, so that instead of entering its maze of rooftops they would by-pass the city and pick up the road again on its south-eastern side.
His idea very nearly proved their undoing as, half a mile farther on, Lavina led the party up a slope on to a flat plateau which appeared to consist of firm snow. It bore her weight and that of Margery who followed; but the sledge party had not advanced more than ten yards on to it before the crust of snow gave way.
The sledge plunged downwards and the men with it, who were buried up to their arm-pits. The plateau of snow concealed a closely planted orchard where air-pockets still remained beneath the branches of the trees. Fortunately none of them was injured and they soon scrambled out, but the heavy sledge was in a hole eight feet deep, and when they had succeeded in scraping away the snow that had fallen on it they found that its weight was too great for them to drag it out. They had to unpack most of their gear before they could lighten the sledge sufficiently to pull it up, and the misadventure delayed them for over an hour.
They were now so far from the highway that it seemed better to go on than to go back; but for the next half-mile, until they reached a row of roof-tops which indicated another road, Lavina had to test the snow-crust every few yards of the way by jumping on it with her ski-sticks. Once they got above the road again they were happier, and picking out their way between the lines of chimney-pots on the south-eastern outskirts of Canterbury they eventually succeeded in locating the Dover road once more.
Darkness was falling when they halted for their tenth night after leaving London, but their short cut had enabled them to place another seven miles of the way behind them. They slept in the attic of a road-side inn and, by combing the place, managed to add a few items to their stores.
On the eleventh day they again did well—seven more miles —but night and snow caught them on the open road, which was now so difficult to follow that, fearing to lose it, they were forced to bivouac in the open; and, although she kept face before the others, Lavina's limbs ached so with the cold that once in her fur bag she cried herself to sleep.
The twelfth day was the worst they had so far experienced as the road was now almost untraceable and snow fell at intervals further delaying their progress. Although Lavina did her utmost to keep to the track there were many occasions when she led the party off it and the heavy sledge got ditched in the treacherous drifts which concealed deep culverts by the road-side. Half the day was spent in pulling the sledge out of holes and, although the whole party were exhausted when twilight came, they had only managed to do four miles. But they had good quarters for the night as Lavina led them to another inn which was standing at a crossroads with its slate roof still showing above the surface.
The thirteenth day was even worse. They lost the road entirely and the scattered houses along it gave no indication, from a distance, where it lay, as they were now snowed up to their chimney-pots. All the natural features of the land except its general contours had disappeared. Even tall trees, pylons and woods were concealed beneath one vast, white blanket which stretched away in a series of rolling slopes as far as the eye could see in every direction.