Vivie went in a cab to her house in the
Victoria Road; Frank back to his hotel. Both had promised to
foregather at Rossiter's house in Portland Place at lunch.
Hitherto Vivie had refrained from entering No. 1 Park Crescent. She
had not seen it or Mrs. Rossiter since David's attack of faintness
and hysteria in February, 1909, nearly two years ago. Why she went
now she scarcely knew, logically. It was unwise to renew relations
too closely with Rossiter, who showed his solicitude for her far too
plainly in his face. The introduction to Linda Rossiter in her
female form would be embarrassing and would doubtless set that good
lady questioning and speculating.
Yet she felt she must see Rossiter--writing was always dangerous and
inadequate--and reason with him; beg him not to spoil his own
chances in life for her, not lose his head in politics and personal
animosities on her behalf, as he seemed likely to do. Already people
were speaking of him as a parallel to ----, and ----, and ---- (you
can fill the blanks for yourself with the names of great men of
science who have become ineffective, quarrelsome, isolated members
of Parliament); saying it was a great loss to Science and no gain to
the legislature.
As to Frank Gardner, she was equally eager for a long explanatory
talk with him. Except that her life had inured her to surprises and
unexpected meetings, it was sufficiently amazing that Frank and she,
who had not seen each other or touched hands for thirteen years,
should meet thus in a dangerous scuffle in a dense struggling crowd
outside the Houses of Parliament.
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