The Story of Ivy · Chapter 9 (2/2)

Well, in so far as she could help him, she’d do anything. Lie for him? Of course she would! Where’s the good of caring for a person if you’re not willing to do anything for him or her? Such was Mrs. Huntley’s simple philosophy of life. She was a good hater as well as a good lover. In her fashion she loved Gretorex, but she hated Ivy Lexton.

Those who are called “the poor” are seldom deceived in a man’s or a woman’s real nature and character. They are too close up against the hard realities of life to make many mistakes. It requires no touchstone to teach them the difference between dross and gold.

About three o’clock the telephone bell rang again.

Gretorex hoped for a moment to hear Ivy’s voice again, but it was a man who asked, “Can I speak to Dr. Roger Gretorex?”

“My name is Roger Gretorex.”

“I have a matter of business to discuss with you, Dr. Gretorex; and I’m telephoning to know if I may come along now, as you are in?”

“Pray do so. But may I ask your name? And would you mind telling me your business?” he called back.

“My name is Orpington. As to my business, it would take too long to explain. But I will be with you in a very few minutes.”

Mechanically Gretorex began to tidy his consulting-room. For the first time in his life he felt horribly afraid, he knew not of what, but that made his dread of the coming inquisition all the sharper, the fuller of suspense.

His mother had managed to keep one conservatory going, and though he had given away a good many of the flowers he had brought up with him this morning, there was still a lovely nosegay on his writing-table. And the sight of these fragrant blossoms recalled poignantly to her son’s mind the woman who had gathered them for him. Was he going to bring sorrow, and what to her would be worse than sorrow⁠—shame⁠—on her honoured name?