Lawless by John Jakes Page B

want these days. Remind her of that, if you please!” Though he was still smiling, the words had a marked undertone of command.
    Matt resented the officer’s tone and manner. “Tell her yourself, Herr Lepp. I don’t pimp for anyone, Prussians included. Good evening.”
    Lepp snarled something in his native tongue as Matt walked away. Damn fool to indulge your temper that way! he said to himself. But he’d disliked the Prussian from the moment the man had walked into the café, acting as if he owned it.
    He turned and saw Lepp studying him, his monocle back in his eye. The officer’s expression was not at all friendly.
    The Prussian pivoted sharply again and returned to charting the train schedules. Matt hoped he’d seen the last of the fellow, but in view of Lepp’s remarks about Lisa, he doubted it.
    The Calais train came chugging in at five forty-five on the dot. By then the prospect of seeing Dolly had Matt in a state of physical and emotional excitement. But it was a state tinged with a good deal of tension.

Chapter III
Reunion
i
    D OLLY WASN’T AMONG the first passengers who came streaming up the platform. Matt went through an agonizing five minutes as he stared into Gallic eyes and Gallic faces. Had she missed the steamer or thought about their life together and decided she wasn’t coming back?
    His spirit began to feel as wilted as the violets. Then, suddenly, he glimpsed a round English face and pink cheeks, and large, lovely eyes of a blue that looked lavender in a certain light. He recognized the neat but out-of-date clothing she was wearing: the plush pelisse, the little Windsor cap of straw with its ostrich-tip ornament perched on her yellow curls. She spied him at almost the same moment, dropped her portmanteau, rose on tiptoe and waved.
    He started running against the tide of passengers. He had to travel three car lengths to reach her. What he felt as he rushed along—a powerful, soaring emotion that quite eradicated his apprehension—told him how much he truly loved her.
    “Oh Matt, Matt love!” she exclaimed, reaching up for him. Her little gray gloves clasped at the back of his neck. Her cheek, smooth as heavy cream, pressed his darker, sunburned one. Dolly Stubbs was a head shorter than he. She tended to plumpness, but he liked her plump.
    He could feel the swell of her corseted breasts against his shirt. Only a couple of passengers paid any attention as they kissed. He wouldn’t have cared if they had an audience of ten thousand. All he wanted to do was savor the sweetness of her parted lips.
    “Oh!” she said again, out of breath when they broke the embrace. “Oh, I’ve missed you so terribly!”
    “So have I. My God, Doll, three weeks is longer than I ever imagined.”
    She understood, laughed and whispered, “Far too long for me. As you’ll discover when I get you alone.”
    He raised his hand, offering the violets. “Not as pretty as your eyes, but the best I could do on short notice.” That was said in French. It seemed a more appropriate language in which to frame such a high-flown if heartfelt sentiment.
    She inhaled the scent of the flowers, slipped her arm through his and squeezed against him. “Thank you, my darling.”
    He picked up her luggage. They walked to the clamorous central area of the station. Lepp was nowhere to be seen now, Matt noted with some relief.
    “Have you taken care of yourself?” she asked as they started outside.
    With a vaguely surprised expression and perfect sincerity, he said, “I don’t know. I suppose.”
    She frowned. “Still having trouble with your work?”
    “More than ever.”
    “Well, we shall have to talk about that. And some other things, too. The holiday was good for me, Matt. It helped me get some of my thoughts in order.” It was all said in a very light way. Yet he was disturbed, somehow.
    As they left the station, the shower stopped. In the west over a long row of chimney pots, a blue sky worthy of a Constable began to