Fool, I thought, and liar.
Did he think I had not noticed the self-satisfaction that consumed him on account of the favourable reception of his books?
I did not blame him for feeling that, nothing could be more pardonable, but why be at such pains to deny it.
But it was doubtless true that it was mostly for Betty's sake that he relished the notoriety they had brought him.
He had a positive achievement to offer her.
He could lay at her feet now not only his love, but a distinguished reputation.
Betty was not very young any more, she was thirty-six; her marriage, her sojourn abroad, had changed things; she was no longer surrounded by suitors; she had lost the halo with which the public admiration had surrounded her.
The distance between them was no longer insuperable.
He alone had remained faithful through the years.
It was absurd that she should continue to bury her beauty, her wit, her social grace in an island in the corner of the Mediterranean.
He knew she was fond of him.
She could hardly fail to be touched by his long devotion.
And the life he had to offer her now was one that he knew would appeal to her.
He made up his mind to ask her once more to marry him.
He was able to get away towards the end of July.
He wrote and said that he was going to spend his leave in the Greek islands and if she would be glad to see him he would stop off at Rhodes for a day or two where he had heard the Italians had opened a very good hotel.
He put his suggestion in this casual way out of delicacy.
His training at the Foreign Office had taught him to eschew abruptness.
He never willingly put himself in a position from which he could not if necessary withdraw with tact.
Betty sent him a telegram in reply.
She said it was too marvellous that he was coming to Rhodes and of course he must come and stay with her, for at least a fortnight, and he was to wire what boat he was coming by.
He was in a state of wild excitement when at last the ship he had taken at Brindisi steamed, soon after sunrise, into the neat and pretty harbour of Rhodes.
He had hardly slept a wink all night and getting up early had watched the island loom grandly out of the dawn and the sun rise over the summer sea.
Boats came out as the ship dropped her anchor.
The gangway was lowered.
Humphrey, leaning over the rail, watched the doctor and the port officials and the hotel couriers swarm up it.
He was the only Englishman on board.
His nationality was obvious.
A man came on deck and immediately walked up to him.
'Are you Mr Carruthers?'
'Yes.'
He was about to smile and put out his hand, but he perceived in the twinkling of an eye that the person who addressed him, an Englishman like himself, was not a gentleman.
Instinctively his manner, remaining exceedingly polite, became a trifle stiff.
Of course Carruthers did not tell me this, but I see the scene so clearly that I have no hesitation in describing it.
'Her ladyship hopes you don't mind her not coming to meet you, but the boat got in so early and it's more than an hour's drive to where we live.'
'Oh, of course.
Her ladyship well?'
'Yes, thank you.
Got your luggage ready?'
'Yes.'
'If you'll show me where it is I'll tell one of these fellows to put it in a boat.
You won't have any difficulty at the Customs.
I've fixed that up all right, and then we'll get off.
Have you had breakfast?'
'Yes, thank you.'
The man was not quite sure of his aitches.
Carruthers wondered who he was.
You could not say he was uncivil, but he was certainly a little offhand.
Carruthers knew that Betty had rather a large estate; perhaps he was her agent.
He seemed very competent.