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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Limit
+
+Author: Ada Leverson
+
+Release Date: March 31, 2009 [EBook #28465]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIMIT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ewa Jaros, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+
+The original spelling and punctuation were retained,
+except for a few issues that were believed to be
+typographical mistakes. The full list of corrections
+can be found at the end of this document.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THE LIMIT
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    =THE LIMIT=
+
+        BY
+
+    ADA LEVERSON
+
+      LONDON
+  CHAPMAN & HALL
+
+Originally published 1911 by Grant Richards Ltd.
+Reissued 1950 by arrangement with the Richards Press Ltd.
+
+Printed by Brüder Rosenbaum, Vienna, Austria
+Cat. No. 5085/4
+
+
+
+
+TO ROBERT ROSS
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Chapter                          Page
+
+I       VALENTIA                   11
+
+II      HARRY                      24
+
+III     VAN BUREN                  32
+
+IV      THE ELDER MRS. WYBURN      37
+
+V       ROMER                      43
+
+VI      HARRY'S ENTERTAINMENT      47
+
+VII     DAPHNE                     62
+
+VIII    IN FANCY DRESS             70
+
+IX      A CELEBRITY AT HOME        79
+
+X       MISCHIEF                   87
+
+XI      THE FRIENDS               105
+
+XII     A HOME CHAT               115
+
+XIII    VALENTIA'S VISIT          123
+
+XIV     A SUGGESTION              131
+
+XV      MISS WALMER               137
+
+XVI     MRS. FOSTER               144
+
+XVII    ENGAGED                   156
+
+XVIII   AT THE CARLTON            163
+
+XIX     AT MISS WESTBURY'S        170
+
+XX      A PROPOSAL                177
+
+XXI     HEREFORD VAUGHAN          183
+
+XXII    GILLIE INTERFERES         189
+
+XXIII   THE BALD-FACED STAG       196
+
+XXIV    THE GREEN GATE            203
+
+XXV     A SUNDAY AFTERNOON        211
+
+XXVI    IN THE ROSE GARDEN        223
+
+XXVII   SEEING THE SUN RISE       230
+
+XXVIII  "REPLY PAID"              235
+
+XXIX    GLADYS                    241
+
+XXX     "THE ANGLES"              248
+
+XXXI    AT EDGWARE                256
+
+XXXII   TENSION                   263
+
+XXXIII  GOOD-BYE                  268
+
+XXXIV   ROMER OVERHEARS           274
+
+XXXV    THE LIMIT                 286
+
+XXXVI   RECONCILIATION            291
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+VALENTIA
+
+
+"Romer, are you listening?"
+
+"Valentia, do I ever do anything else?"
+
+"I've almost decided and absolutely made up my mind that it will look
+ever so much better if you don't go with me to Harry's dinner after
+all."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. We two--you _and_ I--always seem to make such an enormous family
+party! Of course, I know we have to go about in these huge batches
+sometimes--to your mother, and that sort of thing, but in this case it
+will look better not."
+
+Valentia made this rather ungracious suggestion, looking so pretty, so
+serious, and yet with such a conciliating smile that it would have been
+almost impossible for even the most touchy person to have been offended.
+
+The tall, significant-looking husband stopped in his stroll across the
+room.
+
+It was a charming room, with pale grey walls and a pale green carpet,
+and very little in it except, let in as a panel, a delicate low-toned
+portrait of the mistress of the house, vaguely appearing through
+vaporous curtains, holding pale flowers, and painted with a rather
+mysterious effect by that talented young amateur, her cousin, Harry de
+Freyne. It had been his sole success in art, and had been exhibited at
+the Grafton Galleries under the name of The Gilded Lily. No one had ever
+known or was ever likely to know whether the title referred to the
+decorative, if botanically impossible, blossom in her hand, or to the
+golden hair of the seductive sitter.
+
+Romer Wyburn paused a moment--he always paused before speaking--and then
+said very slowly--
+
+"Oh! Really? You think it will look better if I don't go with you?"
+
+He invariably spoke with the greatest deliberation, and with no
+expression whatever.
+
+"Oh yes, dear, I'm sure it would," she repeated coaxingly.
+
+"Do you mean if you go without me?"
+
+"What else can I mean?"
+
+"It'll look better, you think; eh? Is that the idea?"
+
+He sat down opposite the portrait, lighted a cigarette, and thought.
+Then he said with ruminating interest--
+
+"I don't see why. Why will it look so much better for me not to go with
+you?"
+
+"Oh, Romer dear, really! It's one of those things that are almost
+impossible to explain. Oh, if you'd only do just what I advise--if you'd
+only _go_ by me, and not want these long tedious explanations, how much
+better it would be! You see, Harry is giving this dinner _on purpose_ so
+that Daphne shall meet Van Buren by accident. You know all about Van
+Buren, _the_ Van Buren--the millionaire, who turns out to be a dear
+creature and quite charming! and has taken the _greatest_ fancy to
+Harry, and clings on to him, and keeps on and on asking him to ask him
+to meet people. You must own it would be rather jolly for Daphne,
+because, of course, you can't _think_ how he's run after--I mean Van
+Buren--and he isn't an ordinary American snob, and it really and truly
+isn't only his millionairishness, but he's a real person, and
+good-looking and nice as well; and though, Heaven knows, I'm as romantic
+as anybody--for myself--I wouldn't be so selfish as to be romantic for
+her too, and I can't help feeling it's our duty, being in the place of
+parents to her, to give the angel a sporting chance! Of course, the
+point is, Van Buren has told Harry he only likes nice English girls very
+well brought up, and he wants to settle down in England, and he thinks
+that any relation of Harry's must be perfect; and, naturally, I'm
+pleased. I feel exactly like a mother to Daphne, although she's only six
+years younger."
+
+"Well, that's all right. I see all that."
+
+Romer seemed rather bored, as men naturally are at a long catalogue of
+another man's advantages. "Now, look here. Why would it look better for
+me not to go?"
+
+There was some excuse for his insistence on this point, for in a
+superficial way Romer was very effective, fair and good-looking,
+well-made and distinguished; but the entire absence of all expression
+from his empty, regular face, and of all animation from his dry,
+colourless voice and manner, soon counteracted the effectiveness.
+Valentia often said that Romer should never do more than walk through a
+room or look in for a few minutes where there were other people--even at
+a club--and then go away immediately, when he would leave a striking
+impression. If he stayed longer he became alarming. His personality was
+so extraordinarily _nil_ that it was quite oppressive. Obviously kind
+and not in the least pompous, yet his silence made him formidable,
+especially to most of his wife's friends who, though they could hardly
+be reproached with want of pluck as a general rule, had one great fear
+in life--the fear of being bored. It was on this ground that they were
+all terrified of Romer.
+
+"Don't you think, Romer, if we both go it will look too marked? Almost
+as if we were vulgarly trying to get Daphne married? A horrid idea!
+Besides, if you don't turn up Harry can ask some one amusing in your
+place. You see, he's promised to show Van Buren _interesting_ people....
+No, darling, I don't mean it in that way. I'm sure you're interesting
+enough, but I mean queer people, and celebrities and things. That's what
+Van Buren wants, and that's what he must have. And that's one reason why
+he's so delighted with Harry, because Harry can get them all, through
+being a sort of artist, you see. What a good thing, after all, that he
+didn't drift into diplomacy! As he's an American you can't expect Van
+Buren to be really modern, and he has all the old-fashioned ideas about
+what _he_ calls culture. He wants to go in for being intellectual and
+artistic and knowing what he calls people with brains who really count.
+I mean he wants to meet people like Seymour Hicks and Waller, and Thomas
+Hardy, and so on, and not only celebrities and people who have made
+their name, but even people with a future, and, in fact, any peculiar,
+well-educated creatures--anything out of the way."
+
+Romer looked rather dazed.
+
+"Really? Then will Hicks or Hardy be asked in my place?"
+
+Valentia laughed. "Don't be so absurdly literal and hopelessly idiotic,
+darling! No, of course not. But I dare say Harry will get--well--perhaps
+Rathbone, the tattooed man, his Oxford friend."
+
+"Really! And will this chap's being tattooed make the party go off
+better?"
+
+"Oh yes, Romer dear; in a sort of way, because it makes him interesting,
+although you can't see it. When he was quite young he was always having
+lifelong passions for people, and being tattooed in their honour. He has
+blue chain bracelets with initials on his left wrist, and a heart and an
+anchor with other initials on his right arm, and a flight of
+swallows--oh, and goodness knows what! In fact, when you come to think
+of it Mr. Rathbone is really a kind of serial story--with illustrations.
+I wonder Lord Northcliffe doesn't bring him out in monthly parts!" She
+laughed again. "Harry might even get Hereford Vaughan, the man who has
+written all the plays that are going on now. Harry knows him quite well,
+and Van Buren would be so pleased."
+
+"Does Daphne want to many this American chap?"
+
+"Good gracious, no! The idea! Why, she doesn't even know him!... Yes, of
+course she does, naturally."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Romer, though he never by any chance smiled at his wife's careless
+irresponsible chatter, nor laughed at her trivial jests, took the
+deepest interest in them, and would listen, as if under a charm, by the
+hour, to subtleties and frivolities that one would never have imagined
+he would enjoy. Sometimes the faint shadow of a smile would illuminate
+his face like a cold ray of wintry moonlight, but that was when she had
+ceased speaking. The smile was the effect of having watched the sparkle
+of her grey eyes, the expression of her pretty mouth, and her brilliant,
+sunshiny grace.
+
+"It's very sweet of Harry," she said thoughtfully, "to do all this for
+me. It's all for me, or rather it's all for Daphne; he's so fond of
+Daphne."
+
+"Really? Why doesn't he marry her himself?"
+
+She looked surprised and blushed slightly.
+
+"Harry? Why, he never marries!"
+
+"He doesn't as a rule, I know," Romer admitted.
+
+"Then, why should he make an exception for Daphne? He's fond of her--of
+us--in fact, devoted--just like a brother. Not that I ever saw a devoted
+brother. Besides, Harry's made to be a bachelor, and he isn't well off
+enough to marry."
+
+"Really? Hard up? Poor chap! Never saw any sign of it."
+
+"Hard up? No; how like you! Of course, he has plenty of money, for
+_him_, but he spends it all, poor boy. Anyhow, of course, he's not
+really rich like Van Buren. It's on a totally different scale--a
+different sort of thing altogether. But, of course, Van Buren may not
+care for Daphne; people have such funny tastes; and not only that, but
+if he adores and worships the ground she treads on I shan't let her
+dream of marrying him unless she absolutely returns it--at least, unless
+she likes him fairly well."
+
+All this seemed to absorb Romer, and after a pause he said--
+
+"I suppose you'll get Daphne a new dress for Harry's beano?"
+
+Valentia smiled pityingly.
+
+"Yes, of course, you would think that. No! Why, that would be _l'enfance
+de l'art_! First of all, Daphne looks ever so much better when she's
+dressed really simply, not the latest fashion; on the very verge of
+dowdiness! It suits her--shows her off. It would be silly to dress her
+up like a doll or make her look _endimanchée_ on Thursday, or arranged
+and got up expensively, on purpose for Van Buren. I wouldn't, for
+instance, for anything, let her wear her new tulle dress from Armand!
+He'd see through it. Besides, I want her to contrast with me as if I'd
+taken any amount of trouble about my own appearance and none about hers.
+It'll make him pity her a little, and think how well she'd look in the
+sort of clothes he could give her. Besides, I myself am not going to be
+very smart--just tidy."
+
+"Paquin?"
+
+"How clever of you to guess! Well, now I must go and see Harry and hear
+all about the dinner, and tell him how sorry you are you can't come. And
+you're going to lunch at the Club, aren't you? And won't you go and dine
+with your mother on that evening?"
+
+"I may as well."
+
+"_Do_, Romer dear! I can't bear you to neglect her, although I never
+think it's safe to let you dine with her without me. She always takes
+advantage of my absence to be horrid about me, and then you _will_
+defend me, although I've implored you not to heaps of times, and then
+you quarrel. If, this time, she says I'm frivolous and worldly and an
+utter fool and very deep, you must agree with every word. I'm so fond
+of her, she's such a dear thing, it's too bad to worry her by
+contradicting her, and she has such a vile temper! Telephone and invite
+yourself--a pressing invitation, and give her my very best love."
+
+Romer promised all she asked and then went out to the Club.
+
+Valentia watched him through the window as he went. She thought he
+looked very well through a window, and ought by rights always to be seen
+in that way--as it were, under glass. She felt quite proud of him, of
+his smart appearance. In his way, he was an elaborate dandy, and spent
+years at his tailor's, slowly choosing the right thing. She remembered
+she had married him chiefly because of his fine presence and mysterious
+silence. She had thought at the time there must be so much at the back
+of it all, so much in him. He was in love with her and seemed difficult
+to understand. What could be more attractive? And now--well, he was
+ideally kind and good-natured. And she certainly felt sometimes that she
+couldn't even yet quite make him out. Then she gave a slight sigh, went
+to the door and called Daphne.
+
+Daphne came in, trimming a hat. She had lived with the Wyburns ever
+since their marriage five years ago, and Valentia, having no children
+and a most passionately tender disposition--far too much natural
+affection to expend on Romer alone--lavished devotion on her sister. And
+Daphne was so nice and so pretty, almost as pretty as herself, in a
+satisfactorily different way. Valentia with her short straight features,
+grey eyes under dark brows, low forehead almost hidden by wavy fair
+hair, and a mouth curved and curled into subtle and complicated lines,
+was the type loved by Rossetti and Burne-Jones. She had a wonderful fair
+complexion, against which her long eyelashes showed, when she looked
+down, dark and effective, and though she was rather tall, slim and very
+modishly dressed, she never looked like a fashion-plate and had no air
+of being a mere mannequin for clothes, but seemed essentially real, with
+a suggestion in her personality of a beauty at once pagan and
+spiritual--the pagan predominating. Her pictorial appearance had no
+doubt made easier the artist's task, and the pale exquisite portrait had
+truly been described as a whispering likeness.
+
+Daphne, who was not quite eighteen, was a good deal taller, and more
+slender. She had dark brown eyes, smooth dark hair, parted in the
+middle, a rather bright colour and features of the classic type. Her
+chin was rather long, and she had a brilliant, sudden smile, and all
+the attractive freshness and slight abruptness of her age, with an
+occasionally subdued air, caused by the shadow that had fallen on their
+youth by the death of their beautiful mother. Her gentle grace and touch
+of premeditated _naïveté_ made her charming. Beyond question she would
+be a great success.
+
+"Romer can't go on Thursday," Valentia said, taking the needle and hat
+out of her sister's hand and beginning to sew. "I must go and see Harry
+and tell him to get some one else. Really, Daphne, you go too far! It's
+all very well to be clever with your needle, but you needn't tear a
+Lewis hat to pieces and turn it inside out without asking my advice."
+
+"Oh, I wasn't! I was only squashing in the brim and trying to make the
+hat smaller. It seems to have got larger since I put it away."
+
+"Don't be perfectly absurd, darling. It's because you've been seeing
+smaller hats lately."
+
+"Oh yes, I see. Who's going instead of Romer?"
+
+"How should I know? We'll see."
+
+"It's just as you like, darling," said Daphne in her level voice; "but
+in case the American hates me, and I hate him, and Harry's talking to
+you all the time, and I'm frightened of the celebrities, isn't anything
+going to be done for me?"
+
+"Of course not. What do you want? That Foster boy again? Don't look down
+and blush, it makes me sick. All right, perhaps, if there's room. He's a
+nice, decorative boy, but remember they don't dance at dinner, and
+that's the only thing he can do."
+
+"Indeed it isn't!" cried Daphne.
+
+"I'm very sorry to hear it. Suppose Foster's engaged, or at Aldershot?"
+
+"He won't be. It's too sweet of Romer not going. Did you marry him
+because you knew he would do whatever you told him?"
+
+"I don't think it was that so much," said Valentia, thoughtfully, trying
+on the hat in front of the glass. "I thought he was a strong silent man,
+a man with an orange up his sleeve, as it were. But I've never seen the
+orange."
+
+"How funny of you! I should hate a mysterious person. You don't want
+your husband to be a kind of conjurer."
+
+"Yes, I do, as long as he doesn't wear a conjurer's evening dress. I
+like being surprised. Now let's go and surprise Harry at his studio; we
+must be quick, he's expecting us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HARRY
+
+
+Harry de Freyne stood in his usual position, smoking a cigarette, and
+leaning a little forward, with his back to the mirror as if to resist
+the temptation of looking into it. The family good looks were acutely
+accentuated in this young man. He had the smooth, glossy dark hair,
+white teeth, and speaking dark grey eyes that women like; clearly-cut
+features, and the rather prominent chin, generally and mistakenly
+supposed to show strength of character. His pleasant, clean-shaven,
+slightly sunburnt face bore an expression of animation with a certain
+humorous anxiety natural in a man who was generally a good deal in debt
+and always a little in love. Further he had the advantage of a tall,
+strong yet supple figure, with a natural grace of movement and much
+personal charm. Harry knew he was good-looking and did not undervalue
+the fact, but regarded it solely as an asset, not as a private
+satisfaction. He regarded everything as an asset. He was no fop,
+although he wore a single eye-glass rather as a concession to some ideal
+of dandyism than as a help to clear vision. He could see remarkably
+well, with or without it.
+
+The long Empire mirror was placed above a delightful early English large
+open fireplace, in which burnt a Parisian-looking wood fire. Harry was
+the possessor of a fine--indeed, a magnificent studio, full of good old
+things, chiefly other people's, and bad new things, principally his own.
+The theory that all bad art is the result of sincere feeling was
+certainly not exemplified in his case. The portrait of his cousin that
+had been regarded as so full of promise was, as he always, said, the
+only decent piece of work he had ever done. He had been educated for
+diplomacy, and learnt eight languages, some of which he spoke fluently,
+and in all of which he could look with expression.
+
+The room was no mere exhibition of bric-à-brac, but was a cosy, shadowy,
+miscellaneous place, not without an ecclesiastical touch here and there.
+One felt every subject could be gone into there, from stockbroking to
+love, and that everything could be done there, whether it was praying,
+eating, singing, or flirting--everything except perhaps painting.
+
+When the servant announced Mrs. Wyburn and Miss de Freyne one might have
+fancied Harry looked slightly disappointed, but he greeted the pretty
+creatures with suitable effusion and high spirits.
+
+They both sat down rather carefully in the corner seats by the fire.
+
+"Romer can't come, he's dining with his mother," announced Valentia. "He
+ought to, you know, now and then."
+
+"I don't like her," said Daphne, "she abuses every one."
+
+"I know she does, but she's really not so bad, dear, all the same; there
+are many worse. She's rather spiteful, but warmhearted--awfully kind if
+you break your leg," said Valentia.
+
+"But you don't break your leg," said Harry.
+
+"Oh, sometimes you do. At any rate you might. Don't encourage Daphne to
+argue, Harry. Who did you say you'd ask instead if we couldn't get
+Romer?"
+
+"Rathbone's just written to accept in his place," said Harry, taking out
+a letter. "But--don't you think we could persuade Romer if we tried
+hard? However, you know best."
+
+He took out a list. "Hereford Vaughan, Van Buren, Rathbone and
+me--that's four; you two, Lady Walmer, and Miss Luscombe, the actress. I
+think that'll do."
+
+"Lady Walmer?" repeated Valentia. "Why?"
+
+"And a real actress!" murmured Daphne.
+
+"Not a real actress. She's walked on at all the principal theatres in
+London, and somebody's always going to take a theatre for her, but
+there's no danger. I told Van Buren that on the stage they think she's
+in society, and in society they believe she's on the stage. And he
+thinks it's real cute, and an extraordinary English type."
+
+"How are you getting on with him?"
+
+"Beautifully,--if he weren't so beastly intelligent and inquisitive. He
+always wants to know all the news and all the latest gossip. What do you
+think he asked me last night? Why Big Ben was called Big Ben! How on
+earth should I know!"
+
+"Big who?"
+
+"Not big anybody;--the place, the thing;--the clock. He said no doubt I
+must think him dreadfully ignorant for not knowing, but he felt he must
+ask."
+
+Smiling at the recollection, Harry lighted another cigarette.
+
+"What did you say?" Daphne asked.
+
+"If it had been the afternoon I think I'd have taken the risk and told
+him I didn't know, but as it was the evening--he always gets rather
+excited in the evening after dinner and so much Perrier water,--walking
+back to the Ritz in the moonlight, and talking about London, I invented
+a long story.--No, he won't repeat it, don't be frightened; it was
+really rather awful; and when Van Buren gives you his word of honour not
+to tell a thing ..."
+
+"You're all right! That must be a great help," said Valentia
+sympathetically.
+
+"It shows he has a nice loyal nature," Daphne remarked. "I admire that
+sort of thing very much."
+
+"A nice loyal nature! I should think he has! He hates spreading scandal,
+and he wouldn't say a single word now to take away the character of Big
+Ben--if it was----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Oh, if it was ever so! You ought to make Daphne wear one of those thin
+tulle veils to match her hat. They're jolly--you can get them at that
+shop close to me."
+
+"Oh, she needn't, she's going to be manicured, and she's coming back
+here for me in a quarter of an hour."
+
+"Good-bye, darling," said Daphne, standing up, and she made a kind of
+face, which Valentia understood to mean the word Foster.
+
+"What is the child playing at?" said Harry. "If you two have a code it
+would be as well to learn it."
+
+"All right," said Valentia to Daphne.
+
+Harry walked with her to the door and she ran out, saying, "I won't be
+long."
+
+"She wants Foster, the baby Guardsman," explained Valentia.
+
+"Oh, why didn't you say so at first? Of course I suppose they've
+arranged it. At any rate it's as good as done. Then there must be one
+more woman. But never mind now."
+
+Harry sat down beside her and said, in a different voice--he had a very
+good voice, especially when he spoke caressingly--
+
+"How interesting you are! One of your eyebrows is a little thicker than
+the other."
+
+"Oh, Harry!..."
+
+"How are we all going to get home that evening?"
+
+"What do you think?" she asked.
+
+"Well, it's like this, as you may say. We'll all meet at the Ritz and
+dine there. Good. Then we drive in separate vehicles to here, and have
+some music. Then I see you both home, and--well, I think that's all.
+It's not much."
+
+"I don't quite like the way Lady Walmer looks at you, Harry."
+
+"Oh, Valentia! If it comes to that, how do you fondly imagine I shall
+like the way Rathbone is sure to look at you?"
+
+"Oh, Harry! Why, he's tattooed!"
+
+"You see," went on Harry seriously, "I really am making a dash for it
+about Daphne. She'll really be happy with Van Buren, and _I_ shall be
+ever so much happier,--with Van Buren and everyone else,--because,
+through Daphne being always with you, I never see you alone for one
+single second."
+
+"Oh, you exaggerate, Harry!"
+
+"I know I do. I don't see you for half a second."
+
+"Romer has been so nice lately," she answered gently.
+
+"Very amusing, I suppose?"
+
+"But--I often think how very nice he really is."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, even in fun. I'm coming to stay with you in the
+summer--at the Green Gate--unless you'd rather ask Rathbone instead."
+
+"Or unless you'd rather go yachting with the Walmers," she remarked.
+"They have a daughter, haven't they?"
+
+"Oh, Valentia, be anything but blasphemous!..."
+
+"Really?... Oh, Harry!"
+
+"Do you mean to say you need my saying it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then, I will. Valentia, I--"
+
+She got up and opened the door so that Daphne should not have to ring
+when she returned.
+
+When the two sisters left a few minutes later, Harry sat down again as
+if in deep thought and lighted a cigarette. His servant came in.
+
+"Please, sir, Mr. Van Buren is at the telephone."
+
+"Oh well, tell him ... Oh no--, all right--I'll go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+VAN BUREN
+
+
+"It's extremely kind of you, Harry, to let me come around like this in
+the morning. I dare say you want to be working sometimes. I'm really
+afraid of being in the way, but I was rather at a loose end this morning
+and I wanted to have a talk with you," said Van Buren apologetically.
+
+"Rot. Awfully glad to see you, old chap. Have a cigarette?"
+
+"Thanks, Harry, no. I find I'm very much better if I don't smoke till
+after tea.... We're intimate friends now, and yet you never call me
+anything but my surname, or 'old chap'. That reminds me, there's a
+little request I'd like to make of you, Harry."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Call me Matthew--no, call me plain Mat. It would give me real
+pleasure."
+
+Harry smiled rather loudly--
+
+"My dear fellow, I couldn't call you plain Mat. It wouldn't be
+suitable! You're too good-looking!"
+
+Van Buren smiled and shook his head. In its way it was a handsome head
+in the fair, clean-shaven American style, with shining blond hair. He
+had very broad shoulders, and a very thin waist, and that naïve
+worldliness of air so captivating in many of his countrymen.
+
+Except that he wore a buttonhole of Parma violets, he was dressed in
+every particular exactly like Harry. But no one would have believed
+it--he looked so much better dressed.
+
+"That's your chaff, Harry. I'm not a Gibson man, and I don't pretend to
+be."
+
+He looked at his hands, which were small and white, the finger-tips
+brilliantly polished, and said meditatively--
+
+"I'm very much looking forward to meeting your cousin, Harry. I expect
+she's the ideal of a young English lady. Dark, did you say?"
+
+"Rather dark, and very pretty."
+
+"It's a curious thing, Harry, that to me a broonette has always more
+fascination than a blonde. It seems--I may be wrong--as though there's
+more piquancy, more character."
+
+"I quite agree with you," said Harry. "Now the sister--the married
+one--is very fair."
+
+"And she's quite what you call a professional beauty, isn't she?" asked
+Van Buren with great relish.
+
+"My dear fellow, I don't call anyone a professional beauty, and you
+mustn't either. There's no such thing. I can't think how in America you
+get hold of these prehistoric phrases! The expression must have been
+dead long before either of us was born!... Still, she is a beauty all
+the same."
+
+"Is that so? Mind you, Harry, there's something very attractive about a
+blonde, too. To me golden hair and blue eyes suggest gentleness and
+womanliness.... What is Mrs. Wyburn like?"
+
+"Well, she's rather like an angel on a Christmas card, with her hair
+down--I mean she was, as a little girl," said Harry quickly. "Now she's
+considered like 'Love among the Roses' by Burne-Jones."
+
+"Do you really mean that, Harry? Why, she must be more beautiful than
+Miss de Freyne!"
+
+"I wouldn't worry about her, if I were you," Harry said.
+
+"Why not, Harry?"
+
+"Well, you see she's got a husband," said Harry, looking at the ceiling
+as he puffed his cigarette.
+
+"And a cousin," replied Van Buren with unexpected quickness. He then
+burst out laughing.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Harry, not laughing.
+
+"Harry, I do beg of you to forgive my indiscretion. I'm afraid you'll
+think it shows great want of delicacy on my part. It was only meant for
+English chaff. Don't be angry, Harry." Van Buren was quite distressed.
+
+"That's all right, old chap."
+
+"You see, I know you painted her portrait, and if you _had_ felt a
+little sentiment for her, who could blame you? Of course, I'm well aware
+that you're far too much a man of high principle to come any way between
+a woman and her husband, or even to let her know if you had a fancy in
+that direction.... I thoroughly do you justice there, Harry."
+
+"I regard them as sisters," answered Harry.
+
+Van Buren went to the window and stood looking out for a few minutes.
+
+"Well, they are sisters.... What a wonderful place your London is!" he
+said. "Now there's the sort of thing I never can understand, which has
+just happened. A lady called a taxicab. Just as it came up a man--at
+least I suppose he calls himself a man--opened the door. I thought he
+meant to help her in. No! He got in himself and drove away.--Now, Harry,
+how do you account for that?"
+
+"I suppose he could walk quicker," said Harry.
+
+"It's the one fault I have to find with you Englishmen, Harry--the
+single fault. You're not gallant enough to the ladies. Nor is there, in
+my opinion, quite enough respect shown to them. I am always astonished,
+I admit, that they don't resent it. Why, in New York----."
+
+"My dear fellow, they complain bitterly that there's too much respect
+shown to them already," said Harry. "A little more, and they'd do
+without us altogether!"
+
+Van Buren laughed cheerily, and clapped Harry on the shoulder.
+
+"What a fellow you are for chaff! Now, will you come around and have
+lunch with me?"
+
+"When? Now? Thanks, old chap."
+
+"That's real good, Harry," said Van Buren, his eyes sparkling with joy,
+"and we'll walk down Piccadilly together. I must say ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I shan't feel we're real pals till you call me Mat!"
+
+Harry shivered ostentatiously.
+
+They went out, both laughing with great cordiality.
+
+At the corner Van Buren stopped to throw away his buttonhole. He saw
+they were not being worn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE ELDER MRS. WYBURN
+
+
+Romer's mother usually received him with a sarcastic remark, such as
+"Oh, so you remember that I'm not dead yet?" or "I wonder you find time
+to come at all," or something of the same nature, calculated to cast a
+gloom over any visit.
+
+The widow of a rich brewer, Mrs. Wyburn lived in a bad-tempered looking
+old house in Curzon Street, with a harassed footman, a domineering maid,
+a cross cook, and other servants that were continually changing. She was
+one of those excellent housekeepers who spend most of their time "giving
+notice" and "taking up" characters. She nearly always wore a
+hard-looking black silk dress. She had parted black hair, long earrings,
+and a knot of rare old imitation lace at her throat. Eagerness,
+impatience, love of teasing and sharp wit were visible in her face to
+one who could read between the lines. But, notwithstanding this, as she
+had a soft heart and plenty of hard cash, she was not altogether
+unpopular. People enjoyed going to hear the nasty things she said about
+their friends. She had a real _succès de scandale_ on her Wednesdays,
+notwithstanding the fact that a more highly respectable lady had never
+existed in the world.
+
+She adored Romer, although his slow speech and long pauses often drove
+her to the very verge of violence.
+
+"Thought I'd look in," he remarked, rather heavily taking a seat in the
+dark drawing-room, and he proceeded by slow stages to tell her that he
+was coming to dinner on Thursday because Valentia was going out.
+
+She gave him a quick look, combined of motherly pride and annoyance.
+
+"Delighted, of course, dear. Who did you say was Valentia's hostess?"
+
+"She's going with Daphne. Harry's dinner. At some restaurant."
+
+"Oh, indeed!... Well, if you approve of these Bohemian arrangements it's
+not _my_ business. I have my own opinion of Harry de Freyne; I always
+have had--and I shall keep it."
+
+"Do," said Romer, unconsciously epigrammatic.
+
+She waited a minute and then said--
+
+"I don't wish to worry you, my dear ..."
+
+"No?"
+
+"... But I, personally, if I were a man ... perhaps I oughtn't to say
+it--if I saw my wife so much in the society of a person like Harry de
+Freyne--upon my word, I should begin to ask myself what were their
+relations!"
+
+"Cousins," said Romer.
+
+He began to tap his foot slowly against the rail of the chair, but
+remembered Valentia's constant advice, and decided he would not quarrel.
+
+"Well, you know your affairs best, dear. I'm only an interfering
+disagreeable old woman, who knows very little of modern customs and
+ways."
+
+He nodded sympathetically, without answering.
+
+"I love and admire Valentia--in many ways. She's so pretty, but not a
+mere doll! And we women--even the happiest of us--have to go through so
+much! Does she go through the housekeeping books herself, dear?" Mrs.
+Wyburn inquired, with dangerous sweetness.
+
+"Shouldn't think so."
+
+"Ah! that seems rather a pity. Still, I'm just to every one, and I will
+say that she's not extravagant--but has so much cleverness that she
+could manage very well on half the allowance you give her!"
+
+"Is that new--that china bird?" Romer asked, getting up to look at a
+strange, shiny, abnormal-looking parrot on a twig that adorned the
+mantelpiece.
+
+"Do you like it?" she asked.
+
+"It seems all right. Rather jolly."
+
+"Oh! Well, it's funny you haven't noticed it before. Considering it's
+been there all your life, and you used to play with it when you were
+four, it's odd it's escaped your notice. You played with it when you
+were four!" she repeated, growing rather heated.
+
+"Did I though?"
+
+"But things do escape your notice--that's just the point. I sometimes
+wish I didn't see so much myself."
+
+"So do I," he answered. "May I smoke, mother?"
+
+"Of course you may, dear. You may do anything on earth you like. Have
+some tea? _I_ never have anything but China tea, so it won't do you any
+harm."
+
+"I hate China tea," he answered reflectively, after what seemed to his
+mother about half an hour's deep thought.
+
+... "But what I always have said about Valentia is that though we all
+admit, dear, that she has charming manners, is bright and amusing and
+very sweet----"
+
+He smiled.
+
+"_Outwardly_, is there anything behind it all? Has she any depth?" She
+quickly answered her own question, "_I_ think she has; a great deal. I
+believe Valentia is extremely clever in her own way; she turns _you_
+round her little finger. But that wouldn't matter so much--anything's
+better than quarrelling and snapping and finding fault
+continually--which is a thing I hate. But, really, there's one point I'm
+quite anxious about--in fact, I often lie awake the whole night--the
+entire night--and wake up in the morning utterly worn out through
+thinking about it, Romer dear. There's nothing like a mother's
+heart--and this does make me anxious, I own."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, that she should ever be talked about! That she should be
+considered a flirt--and that sort of thing! I couldn't bear the idea of
+my son's wife having her name coupled with that of any young man--or any
+nonsense of that sort. It would be most painful to me. I'm sure I ask
+every one who knows her if anything of that kind is ever said."
+
+Romer threw away the cigarette and stood up.
+
+"What infernal rot!" he said, with a heightened colour.
+
+Her eyes brightened with pleasure. She was delighted to have irritated
+him at last out of his calmness.
+
+"Well, well, perhaps I'm a little over-anxious. It's all love, all
+devotion to you, dear. Of course, people do talk. There's no doubt about
+that; but good gracious! we all know there's nothing in it. Don't we?
+Don't be cross with your poor old mother, Romer."
+
+"That's all right. I must be off. Eight on Thursday, eh?"
+
+She kissed him affectionately, walked with him to the landing, where she
+kept him for about ten minutes complaining of the awful worry she had
+had about the under-housemaid, and of the sickening impossibility of
+getting a piano-tuner to attend to the instrument properly without
+making any sound.
+
+"For I'm a mass of nerves, my dear. Give my best love to dear
+Valentia."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ROMER
+
+
+Romer walked back, trying to throw off the irritating effect of his
+mother's pin-pricks. As was his usual custom when he was a little
+depressed, he went home and sat down in front of his wife's portrait. He
+often sat there for an hour when she was out, looking at it. Any one
+watching him would have thought he was in a state of calm and stupid
+content. In reality, he was worshipping. His passion for his wife was
+his one romance, his one interest, his one thought. He had been married
+five years, and had never yet expressed it in words. He was one of the
+unfortunate people who are not gifted with the power of expression,
+either in word or look. He was practically inarticulate.
+
+As he gazed at the picture--he was feeling a little sad--the sadness
+melted away. The frail figure, bright yet dim, vaguely appearing through
+vaporous curtains, holding an impossible gold flower, had the effect on
+him of a beautiful Madonna on a deeply devout Catholic. It produced in
+him a form of religious ecstasy. He adored her with passion, and with
+the selfishness and jealousy of passion, but circumstances and his
+temperament caused it to take the outward form, principally, of care for
+her happiness. When she was actually present, she still dazzled him so
+much that he could show his feeling only by listening to and agreeing
+with every word she said, by doing what she asked him, and by trying to
+protect her, often without her knowledge, from any kind of pain or
+trouble. She would have been amazed had she realised the violence of his
+devotion to her. Apparently cool and matter-of-fact, he was in reality a
+reticent fanatic. He neither analysed nor showed his sentiment, nor did
+he himself know its extent. He wondered why certain people, certain
+subjects gave him pain. He trusted Valentia absolutely, nor could she in
+his eyes do wrong, and it was only with the subconscious second sight of
+love that he sometimes felt a curious and melancholy presentiment. He
+did not know himself that this suffering was jealousy.
+
+What nonsense his mother talked!...
+
+Harry!... Harry was the best fellow in the world--almost like a brother,
+his greatest friend, though not exactly an intimate friend. Romer was
+too shy to be intimate with any one. Harry was lively, amusing, a
+brilliant talker; kind, good-natured, a capital chap. He appreciated
+Valentia, or he could not have painted that portrait. Romer was very
+grateful for the portrait; yet it sometimes hurt him to think Harry had
+painted it. It showed how well Harry understood Valentia.
+
+This thought Romer always suppressed. He thought it was mean, and he
+could not be mean.
+
+He looked out of the window. It was raining--a chilly spring shower--but
+there was a stir in the air, a rattle in the town, a sense of something
+that was going to happen; summer was not far off, and in the summer, at
+the end of the season, they would go down to the Green Gate, the lovely
+country house with the dream garden as Valentia called it, all built,
+planted, and arranged on purpose for her. Valentia was more herself at
+the Green Gate than anywhere else. Leisure suited her, and roses.
+
+Every year Romer silently counted the weeks until they went back there.
+It was where he was happiest. Of course, they were not alone. Dear
+little Daphne was always with them, dear little thing (she was nearly
+six feet high)--and other people, very often, and Harry--always Harry.
+Perhaps Daphne would marry soon, but what about Harry?
+
+Romer felt rather wearied when he remembered Valentia had said Harry
+was made to be a bachelor. Was he tired of Harry? Not a bit! Harry was a
+capital chap; besides, he didn't see so very much of him in London.
+
+Heaps of people admired Valentia, and that did not annoy Romer at all
+(though it did not please him particularly), but he knew, again
+subconsciously, that Valentia cared less than nothing for any admirers,
+but she certainly was awfully fond of Harry. And no wonder! Harry was
+the best fellow in the world--lively, amusing, quite a brilliant talker;
+kind, good natured, and he appreciated Valentia, or he could not have
+painted that portrait....
+
+Round and round the same thoughts passed through his brain.
+
+It was raining--a chilly spring shower. Had Valentia got her wrap with
+her?
+
+He got up, went into the hall, and saw her fur cloak hanging on a peg.
+
+She evidently didn't care for it. She was tired of it--perhaps it was
+out of fashion; if so, she would never wear it. She might catch cold.
+
+He was not a prompt man, but he went at once to the telephone and gave
+orders to a shop in Bond Street that would result in a collection of
+fur-lined cloaks being sent for her choice that evening. This would
+please her; she would smile and try them on. Besides, it would prevent
+her catching cold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HARRY'S ENTERTAINMENT
+
+
+Van Buren, who was a business man, was an idealist; while Harry de
+Freyne, the artist--was, emphatically, not.
+
+Van Buren had been brought up on Thackeray and Dickens, above all on old
+pictures from _Punch_; Du Maurier's drawings enjoyed at an early age had
+made him romantic about everything connected with London. As soon as he
+was able to leave his bank in New York--in fact, the moment he had
+retired from business--he had realised his dream and come to live in
+London. And Harry seemed to him the incarnation of everything
+delightfully, amusingly English. He had a real hero-worship for Harry,
+who was so astonishingly clever as well. Van Buren was not a snobbish
+Anglomaniac, at least his snobbishness was not of the common quality nor
+about the obvious things; he was a little ashamed of his money, but he
+did not worship rank and titles; it was Intellect--but Intellect that
+had the stamp of fashion--that held a glamour for him. So did everything
+that he supposed to be modern, previous, and up-to-date. No one could
+ever, whether in New York or in London, have been in life less modern
+than poor Van Buren, though he was eminently contemporary and perhaps
+even in advance in matters connected with business. For business he had
+genius, and yet, curiously, no passion; he was unconsciously brilliant
+on the subject; it was hereditary. But in his innermost heart he
+believed that it was vulgar to be an American millionaire! And he had a
+childish horror of vulgarity, and an innocent belief that an Englishman
+who had been to Eton and Oxford and who was _dans le mouvement_, smart
+and good-looking, and had deserted diplomacy for art, must of necessity
+be refined, superior, cultured, everything that Van Buren wanted to be.
+
+Of course he soon found out that Harry was frightfully hard up, and in
+the most delicate manner imaginable--a delicacy rather wasted on his
+friend--implored, as a special favour, to be allowed to be his banker.
+But Harry had refused, having vague ideas of much more important extent
+than a mere loan with regard to making Van Buren useful. He had thus
+gone up in his friend's estimation, at the same time placing him under
+a great and deeply felt obligation by gratifying his fancy for knowing
+clever people and celebrities.
+
+At last the friendship had culminated in Harry's suggestion of a
+marriage between his young cousin, Daphne, and Van Buren. Harry felt
+that if he could compass this arrangement he would at one stroke give
+fortune to Daphne, freedom to himself--the child was very much in his
+way in Valentia's house--and make Van Buren eternally grateful.
+
+Harry really liked Van Buren and respected him; he regarded him as
+touching, but also, at times, as a menace. A shadow sometimes came over
+their friendship, the alarming shadow of the future bore. What was now
+to his cynical mind screamingly funny about the American--his sensitive
+delicate feelings, his high standard of morals with regard to what he
+called the ladies, and illusions that one would rarely find in London in
+a girl of seventeen, might some day develop into priggishness and
+tediousness, and--especially--would take up too much time. For since
+Harry had been intimate with Van Buren he had discovered that the
+tradition of American hustling was, like most traditions, a fiction.
+Americans always have time; Englishmen never. The leisurely way in which
+Van Buren talked was an example of this--it was the way he thought; his
+brain worked slowly. Harry and his like have no time to drawl; they have
+to keep appointments.
+
+On the evening of the Ritz dinner-party Harry was not in a particularly
+good temper, and thought to himself he was rather like a Barnum as he
+introduced his guests one by one to the modest millionaire, who said to
+them all, "Pleased to meet you", and fixed his admiring glance with a
+sentimental respect on Daphne, an undisguised admiration on Valentia,
+and an almost morbid curiosity on Miss Luscombe, the first actress he
+had ever met.
+
+Miss Luscombe was a conventional, rather untidy-looking creature, very
+handsome, with loose hair parted and waved over her ears, and with
+apparently no design or general idea either in her dress or manner. She
+varied from minute to minute from being what she thought theatrical to
+appearing what she supposed to be social. She evidently hadn't settled
+on her pose, always a disastrous moment for a natural woman who wishes
+to be artificial. Practically she always wore evening dress except in
+the evening, so while at her own flat in the afternoon she was
+photographed in a _décolletée_ tea-gown, this evening she was dressed as
+if for Ascot, except for the hat, with an emaciated feather boa and a
+tired embroidered _crêpe de Chine_ scarf thrown over her shoulders,
+also a fan, long gloves, and a rose in her hair by way of hedging. To
+these ornaments she added a cold, of which she complained as soon as she
+saw the other guests. But no one listened. No one ever listened to Miss
+Luscombe, no one ever could, and yet in a way she was popular--a kind of
+pet among a rather large circle of people. Women never disliked her
+because she created no jealousy and always unconsciously put herself at
+a disadvantage; men did not mind her prattle and coquettish airs, being
+well aware that nothing was expected of them. For Miss Luscombe, though
+vain, was a pessimist, and quite good-natured. She was also a standing
+joke.
+
+The other guests besides Valentia in yellow and Daphne in pink--both
+looking as fresh as daisies and as civilised as orchids--consisted of
+Lady Walmer, a smart, good-looking, commonplace woman, rather fatter
+than she wished to be, but very straight-fronted, straightforward, and
+sporting, with dark red hair and splendid jewels; a faded yet powerful
+beauty who had been admired in the eighties, but had only had real
+success since she turned forty-six.
+
+With her was her daughter, a girl who at the first glance looked eight
+feet high, but who really was not very much above the average length.
+She was a splendid athlete, and her talk was principally of hockey. She
+wore a very smart white dress and had a dark brown neck, pretty fair
+hair, and an entirely unaffected bonhomie that quite carried off the
+harshness of her want of style or charm--in fact it had a charm of its
+own. Besides, it was well known that her grandmother had left her an
+estate in the country and £ 7000 a year, and that Lady Walmer was
+anxious to get her married. Hence Miss Walmer never wanted for partners
+at balls nor for attention anywhere, but--it was always for _le bon
+motif_. As Valentia said, she was the sort of girl (poor girl!) that one
+could only marry.
+
+Hereford Vaughan, who was an object of considerable curiosity to several
+of the guests on account of his phenomenal success in having eleven
+plays at the same time being performed in London, New York, Berlin,
+Paris, and every other European city, was, to those who did not know him
+before, an agreeable surprise. Heaven knows what exactly people expected
+of him; perhaps the men feared 'side' and the women that he would be
+overpowering after so many triumphs, but he was merely a rather pale,
+dark, and rather handsome young man. He behaved like anybody else,
+except that perhaps his manner was a little quieter than the average.
+Unless one was very observant (which one isn't), or unless one listened
+to what he said, he did not at first appear too alarmingly clever. He
+had one or two characteristics which must have at times led to
+misunderstandings. One was that whatever or whoever he looked at, his
+dark opaque eyes were so full of vivid expression that women often
+mistook for admiration what was often merely observation. For instance,
+when he glanced at Lady Walmer she at once became quite confused, and
+intensely flattered, nearly blushed and asked him to dinner. While, if
+she had but known, behind that dark glance was merely the thought, "So
+that's the woman that Royalty ... What extraordinary taste!"
+
+Hereford Vaughan, who was himself thirty-four, did not share in the
+modern taste for the battered as a charm in itself, though he could
+forgive it--or, indeed, anything else--if he were amused.
+
+Knowing that Miss Luscombe, hoping for a part, would be painfully nice
+to Vaughan, Harry had good-naturedly placed them as far apart as
+possible. Nevertheless she leaned across the table and said--
+
+"How _do_ you think of all these clever things, Mr. Vaughan? I can't
+think how you do it!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, we'd all like to know that," said Captain Foster, the baby
+Guardsman, as Valentia called him. He spoke enviously. He was a
+perfectly beautiful blond, delightfully stupid, and had been longing for
+enough money to marry somebody ever since he was seventeen.
+
+"I'm sure I'd jolly soon write a play if I only knew how."
+
+"It's perfectly easy, really," said Vaughan; "it's just a knack."
+
+"Is it though?"
+
+"That's all."
+
+"How do you get the things taken?"
+
+"Oh, that's a mere fluke--a bit of luck," said Vaughan.
+
+Every one who heard this sighed with relief to think that was how he
+regarded it.
+
+Vaughan always used this exaggerated modesty as an armour against envy,
+for envy, as a rule, is of success rather than of merit. No one would
+have objected to his talent deserving recognition--only to his getting
+it.
+
+"Now what do you think of Miss Luscombe?" Valentia asked the dramatist.
+
+"I don't think of her. I never regard people on the stage as real
+people," Vaughan answered.
+
+"Don't you, really? Well, you ought to know. You have made a sort of
+corner in 'leading ladies'. What curious clothes she wears!"
+
+"Doesn't she? On the stage she dresses like an actress, and off the
+stage she doesn't dress like a lady. She's so extraordinarily vague," he
+said.
+
+"Yes; and yet I've heard that, though she's so dreamy and romantic,
+she's quite wonderfully practical, really. She never accepts an
+engagement unless she gets a large salary--and all that sort of thing."
+
+"I see. She lives in the clouds, but she insists on their having a
+silver lining," said Vaughan. "Who's the pink young man she's confiding
+in now?"
+
+"It's Mr. Rathbone. He likes theatres--at least he collects programmes
+and posters, I think. Besides, he's tattooed."
+
+"Oh, yes. That must be a great help in listening to Miss Luscombe. He's
+been trained to suffer."
+
+Miss Luscombe was talking rather loudly and most confidentially to
+Rathbone, who had an expression of willing--but agonised--martyrdom on
+his fair pink, clean-shaven features.
+
+"I _told_ dear George Alexander that I would have been only _too_
+pleased to understudy Irene in the new piece--in fact, it would have
+just suited me, Mr. Rathbone, and left me plenty of time for my social
+engagements too. Besides, if I once got a chance of a part like that I
+feel I should have made a hit. Oh, it was a cruel disappointment! After
+being too charming to me--or, at any rate, I was charming to him at the
+Cashmores' reception, you know--I remember he was standing in the
+refreshment-room with Mrs. Cashmore, and I went _straight_ up to him and
+said, 'Don't you remember me, Mr. Alexander?'--and after all this he
+only promised me--and that conditionally--a horrid, silly little part in
+the curtain-raiser in No. 2 B Company on tour. On tour! Of course I
+refused that--one must keep up one's prestige, Mr. Rathbone. There's a
+great deal of injustice in the profession. Talent counts for
+nothing--it's all influence. But I've always had a great ambition ever
+since I was a little girl." Miss Luscombe put her head on one side and
+talked as she had to the interviewer of _The Perfect Lady_. "It was
+always my dream--do you know?--to marry a great actor--or, at any rate,
+to be his great friend--like Irving and Ellen Terry--that sort of
+thing--a great, lifelong friendship! And as a child I was madly in love
+with the elder George Grossmith, but I don't think he ever knew it. Too
+bad!"
+
+She pouted childishly, gave her arch musical laugh with its three
+soprano notes and upward inflection, and then accepted a quail with a
+heavy sigh.
+
+"When I was a boy," said Rathbone in a low concentrated voice of
+reminiscence--he spoke rather quickly, for he had been trying in vain
+during the whole of dinner to get a word in edgeways and feared to lose
+his chance now--"when I was a boy I was in love, too, with some one
+on the stage. Between ourselves--you won't mention it, will you, Miss
+Luscombe?----"
+
+"You can trust me," she said earnestly, with a look of Julia Neilson.
+
+"Good! Well, I was in love, and I've got her initials--C. L.--tattooed
+on me now!"
+
+"Impossible! How exciting! Who is C. L.?"
+
+He looked round the table and murmured in a low voice, "Cissie Loftus.
+Isn't it odd? I wrote and told her about it, but I never received an
+answer to my letter."
+
+"Poor, poor boy! I call that really touching! Will you show me the
+initials some day?"
+
+"Oh no. Impossible." He was stern, adamantine. She hastily went on. "So
+you're very keen--interested in the stage, Mr. Rathbone?"
+
+"Well, in the stage door. I collect programmes, and I haven't missed a
+first night since I was twenty!"
+
+"Fancy! Then I ought to remember your face, at all the theatres!"
+
+"I mean at the Gaiety," he said, "only the Gaiety."
+
+"Oh, the Gaiety!" she turned her shoulder to him.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+"Yes, Miss Daphne, if you would come out to New York you'd have a real
+good time. You'd turn all the young fellow's heads. I'm afraid you'd do
+a terrible amount of damage there. I should like to show you and Mrs.
+Wyburn Newport in the season, too. You ladies have it all your own way
+over the other side of----may I say, the herringpond?"
+
+"Oh, please do; yes, _do_ say the herringpond!"
+
+Daphne leant forward and said to Harry:
+
+"Do you know who is that very distinguished-looking man who has just
+come in--rather weary and a little grey on the temples? He bowed and
+kissed the woman's hand so charmingly--at the next table to us. Looks
+like a great diplomatist."
+
+"Then he must be a stockbroker," said Valentia decidedly. "Every one
+with the grand manner always is."
+
+"Really! I can't say; I don't know any stockbrokers," said Miss
+Luscombe.
+
+"How distinguished that sounds!" murmured Vaughan.
+
+"It's very clever of you, Miss Luscombe," said Lady Walmer; "I don't see
+how you can help it! I know nobody else. I always tell Alec she'll have
+to marry one, and when she says she doesn't want to, 'My dear child,' I
+say, 'you can't marry people you don't see!' And almost the only people
+she ever sees at our house _are_ stockbrokers--except a few soldiers
+who never have a penny."
+
+Alec was the daughter, named after her distinguished godmother.
+
+"It's quite gone out to be snobbish now," Lady Walmer continued in a
+lower voice to Harry. "We're all only too glad to take all we can get in
+exchange for anything we give!"
+
+"And you don't call that snobbish?" said Harry.
+
+"My dear, no!--of course, we give as little as possible. I talk like
+this and yet I married for love--and you know the result! Walmer's
+always gambling, always running after--goodness knows what--and leaves
+me--not quite in the gutter, but certainly on the kerb!"
+
+"Don't you want Alec to marry for love?"
+
+"I'm afraid she'll have to, my dear--she's not very attractive. It's a
+blessing she's an heiress. But if she's allowed to play hockey, and
+skate, and fence, and dance, and the husband is fairly kind to her, I'm
+sure she'll be happy--I mean, I have no idea of her marrying a duke,
+Harry. I shall be satisfied if he's a charming man, and not too
+selfish." She lowered her voice still more to add--"You know she likes
+you, poor child, don't you?"
+
+"You're making fun of me, dear Lady Walmer."
+
+"No, I'm not.... Walmer's taken 'Flying Fish' again, and after Cowes
+we're going for a long cruise. You must come with us. Her father will be
+all right. He lets me have my own way about her. Well, aren't you
+coming?"
+
+"You're too frightfully kind, Lady Walmer, of course. But----"
+
+"My dear boy, of course you're going to the Green Gate, but I wish you'd
+listen to a woman of the world. That," she gave Valentia a piercing
+glance, "can't go on for ever! You will find Romer making a row some
+day, and that will be a bore for you. He's just the sort of man who
+would."
+
+Valentia, noticing their confidential tone and feeling instinctively
+that some treachery was in the air, looked once angrily at Harry and
+then became apparently absorbed in the conversation of Vaughan.
+
+Every one was talking volubly and gaily. Only Daphne and Captain Foster
+were silent as they sat side by side looking at their plates. But they
+were the only people who had found the dinner a real success.
+
+Harry, who with all his _usage du monde_ was peculiarly subject to
+sudden obscure impulses as of the primitive man, became pale with a
+strange and painful sensation as he looked at Valentia.
+
+She was flirting with Vaughan, or so every one present must be thinking.
+Of course it was only from pique, and he would soon put a stop to it.
+
+And Vaughan, with his ironical glance and quiet manner, why did he look
+into her eyes all the time?
+
+What was he saying?
+
+Harry asked them all to come back to the studio for some music, but even
+as he made the arrangement to drive Valentia, he remembered that, _à la
+fin des fins_, he would have to leave her at her husband's house. Would
+Romer be sitting up? What an ass he was! What rot the whole dinner was!
+It was all through Van Buren. Van Buren was a fool. Confound Romer!
+
+Harry was jealous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DAPHNE
+
+
+"More flowers from Van Buren? Let me look at them. A spray of lilies of
+the valley; how touching! He expects you to wear them at the opera. I
+think it's _such_ a mistake to wear real flowers on an evening dress.
+They have a damp, chilly look, like fresh vegetables, at first, and when
+they begin to fade they make you look faded, too. Never mind, Daphne; I
+think perhaps you'd better wear them just to-night," said Valentia.
+
+"Yesterday," said Daphne, "he sent me that basket of American Beauty
+roses. The day before he sent me Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poems."
+
+Valentia smiled. "Poor darling!--I mean Van Buren's a poor darling, not
+you. You see, he's got the nice sort of Boston idea that a man ought
+only to send a girl flowers or books, or music. He thinks it's
+respectful. But, anyway, it's a very good sign."
+
+"A good sign? But I thought there was so much of that sort of thing--I
+mean fuss and attention, to girls in America. I thought that didn't mean
+anything. I mean anything particular."
+
+"Daphne, dear, don't blind yourself; don't shut your eyes to obvious
+facts. It isn't a matter of what you think or what I think, or of
+speculation at all. I _happen to know_ that Van Buren _is_ going to
+propose to you. He'll probably do it at Henley or at Sandown, or in the
+Park. He's certain to want it to be on a typically English background;
+but you can take it from me, for a dead cert, that it's bound to come."
+
+Daphne sat down and looked serious.
+
+"Valentia, it's no good. Don't let him do it. It will be so frightfully
+uncomfortable meeting him afterwards."
+
+"Frightfully uncomfortable meeting the man to whom you're engaged? Why?"
+
+"Because I shan't be engaged to him."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I shall never marry, Valentia."
+
+Valentia stared at her in silence.
+
+"What is your idea, darling? Why, you won't be eighteen till June. You
+can't be sure you'll never want to marry!"
+
+"Well, I don't care for Van Buren."
+
+"I thought you liked him so much?"
+
+"Well, he seems all right at first. But I simply couldn't stand him
+always about."
+
+"Couldn't you? Poor pet! But he mightn't _be_ always about."
+
+"Well, I couldn't stand his marked attention. Valentia, I _hate_ marked
+attention."
+
+"Do you, really? Who'd have thought it?"
+
+"Well--and he'd always be so considerate and so thoughtful and so
+respectful!"
+
+"That mightn't last when you were married," said Valentia consolingly.
+
+"Perhaps he might not be so bad after we were once married.... But I
+shouldn't like to risk it. And the engagement! Oh! I couldn't simply
+_stand_ the engagement! Just think of the ring, and the sentiment, and
+the fuss, and the letters! Oh, he'd enjoy it all so much! Oh, it would
+make me simply sick to see how pleased he'd be!"
+
+"I know that feeling," said Valentia sympathetically, nodding her head.
+
+"Oh, and don't you see how he'd think he was engaged to a
+well-brought-up, nice English girl who was a relation of Harry's, and
+knew all the right people, and all that sort of thing? And he'd take a
+big house--he's hinted this to me already--most likely in Park
+Lane--anyhow, something just like a millionaire in a book. It's all so
+dull, and cut-and-dried."
+
+"Some of these cut-and-dried obvious things turn out quite jolly
+afterwards. It's the uncomfortable, romantic things that are more often
+failures. And you know, Daphne, you do like pretty things and clothes,
+and going everywhere, and--not only that, he's really such a dear, and a
+good sort, and so good-looking! And you'd put me into a very awkward
+position with Harry if you refuse him. But, of course, darling, you must
+do as you like."
+
+"Well, then, Valentia, don't _let_ me refuse him. I don't want to. Don't
+let it come to that. I'm sure I should loathe to hear him propose."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It would make me sick."
+
+"What can I tell Harry really as your reason for not being able to stand
+Van?"
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know!"
+
+"He bores you," announced Valentia. "That's what's the matter. He
+doesn't amuse you."
+
+"It isn't that, it isn't that!" cried Daphne vehemently. "I don't _want_
+to be amused. Do you think I like a man because he's clever, or funny,
+and always making jokes? That bores me frightfully. Harry's way of being
+lively and clever bores me to _death_! I don't want to marry a
+professional entertainer! No, Valentia, that's more the sort of thing
+you'd like. _You're_ quite sorry Romer's not like that."
+
+"I don't suggest that it would be ideal to marry Harry Lauder, Daphne
+dear. But wouldn't you really like someone fairly intelligent?"
+
+"No. Why should I? Do you think I want to marry a man so horribly clever
+that he wouldn't understand a word I said?"
+
+"Let's have it out, dear. What do you think you want?" Valentia answered
+herself; "It's Foster, of course! That dull, empty-headed, commonplace,
+hard-up, handsome boy. You can't marry him. He's just twenty-two, and
+has only a miserable allowance, and is in an expensive regiment, and
+you, darling, will only have three hundred a year. I should love to see
+you happy in your own way and having your wish, but don't you think it's
+a childish fancy? You're both children. Of course he hasn't suggested
+marriage, yet, has he? He knows perfectly well it's out of the
+question."
+
+"Valentia! Darling! Why, he proposed to me the day we were
+introduced--at Prince's, and he's been doing it ever since."
+
+"Oh, how utterly absurd of him! Well, anyhow, you must wait and see.
+Even if he could afford it, I don't think it would be a success. Why,
+there's nothing in the boy! What do you see in him?"
+
+"I like the way he laughs," said Daphne, after a pause.
+
+"Do you mind telling me one thing straight out? I'm being very nice to
+you about this, dear. I ought to scold you. But, at any rate, you must
+treat me with complete confidence."
+
+"Of course, of course, dear."
+
+"Tell me, he hasn't ever kissed you, has he?"
+
+"Oh, Valentia!"
+
+"I beg your pardon, darling. I felt sure he hadn't."
+
+"Of course he has."
+
+"He has!--Where?"
+
+"How do you mean, where? Oh! at every dance where we've ever met. He
+always does, whenever he can. Is it so dreadful? He's such a boy!"
+
+"Fancy your liking him enough for that!" said Valentia, stupefied.
+
+"Oh, he's a darling; and the only person I ever could possibly marry."
+
+"It's rather serious," said Valentia; "and poor Van who is so devoted!"
+
+"He isn't, really," said Daphne decidedly.
+
+"Don't you think so? Why?"
+
+"Oh, the whole thing's an _idea_--the sort of thing he _wants to do_.
+It's not genuine."
+
+"I should have thought the feelings of a man of thirty-four who could
+marry any one he chose would be more real than the fancy of a mere boy!
+Boys like anybody."
+
+"Van isn't genuine like Cyril," said Daphne.
+
+"Who on earth's Cyril?"
+
+"Captain Foster."
+
+Valentia walked round the room and then said--
+
+"And you really suppose you're going to adore him all your life?"
+
+"I _suppose_ so. I really don't know. I know about now. Oh, Valentia, be
+a darling and let him come to the fancy ball with us." She kissed her.
+"And, oh, do tell Harry to explain to Van that it can't go on, that he
+must put it out of his head. Do, darling Valentia. Any well-brought-up
+young girl will do for him just as well!"
+
+"And wouldn't any well-brought-up young girl do for Cyril?"
+
+"I don't know. But only Cyril will do for me. Oh! the jolly way he has
+of saying 'Righto' and 'You're all right,' and calling me 'little girl!'
+Oh, he _is_ a dear!"
+
+"Oh, well, if he says such brilliant things as _that_!"
+
+"It isn't what he _says_----"
+
+"Oh, hush, Daphne, here is Romer. I shan't tell him a word about it.
+Well, I'll think it over." She called Daphne back and said in a
+half-hearted way--
+
+"I suppose it wouldn't do just to sort of please Harry by marrying Van,
+and then seeing that silly boy now and then. You'd so soon get tired of
+him--but, no! that wouldn't be right. Forget that I said it--I don't
+mean it."
+
+"I couldn't stand Van at all," said Daphne definitely, "whether I saw
+Cyril or not."
+
+"Then you shan't be bothered with him. But can't you give up Cyril? I
+know I'm right about it. It isn't only the hard-upness and the
+impossibility--of course, I know he's got relations and all that--but,
+it's he himself. You'll get bored with him, too, in a different way."
+
+"I like him so much _now_," pleaded Daphne.
+
+Romer came in and Valentia merely told him at great length every word of
+the foregoing conversation with lavish comments by herself. Secretly
+Romer was bitterly disappointed when he realised that the possibility of
+his being left alone with his wife was more remote, but of course he
+agreed with Valentia, as she changed her mind a dozen times on the
+subject, and as usual the conversation ended in a telephone message to
+Harry to come round at once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN FANCY DRESS
+
+
+Van Buren had had many pleasures, many gratifications since he had been
+in London; his dreams--the dreams inspired by Du Maurier's drawings when
+he was a little boy--had been very nearly realised. Perhaps the greatest
+triumph that he had had yet was the evening of the Artists' Fancy Ball.
+
+He had succeeded in making up a party to go in costume. He was always
+making up parties, and he had for many years been obsessed by a longing
+to dress up.
+
+Harry, in mockery of his passion for everything English, had advised him
+to go as an Ancient Briton, with a coat of blue paint. Scorning such
+ribald chaff, he had ordered a magnificent costume of chain armour.
+Greatly to his satisfaction he had persuaded Hereford Vaughan to go as
+Shakespeare, Valentia and Daphne respectively as Portia in scarlet and
+Rosalind in green.
+
+A large party were to dine at Van Buren's rooms before the ball. Fancy
+dress has the effect of bringing out odd, unexpected little
+characteristics in people. For example, Harry, good-looking and a dandy,
+quite a romantic type, hated dressing up, and cared nothing whatever
+about his costume; while Romer, the sober and serious, enjoyed it
+immensely, and appeared to think his appearance of the utmost
+importance--almost a matter of life and death.
+
+The women were far less self-conscious in costume than the men, and
+cared far less how they looked, probably because women are always more
+or less in fancy dress, and it was not so much of a novelty to them.
+
+Valentia had pointed out that Shakespeare, to be quite correct, should
+wear ear-rings; so Vaughan called at her house on the way to Van
+Buren's, as she had promised to lend him some.
+
+"He won't know how to put them on," said Daphne, drawing on her long
+boots. "Probably he hasn't had his ears pierced; you must go and screw
+them on for him."
+
+Valentia ran down. Just as she was screwing the long coral and pearl
+ear-rings with rather painful energy on to the unfortunate young man's
+ears, the servant, with a slight expression of terror that could not be
+concealed, announced--
+
+"Mrs. Wyburn."
+
+The situation was really rather comic. Romer's mother, who was going to
+a dinner-party in the same street, could not forgo the pleasure of
+calling unexpectedly on them at half-past seven, vaguely hoping that it
+might be inconvenient to them, and that she would catch them in
+something they didn't want her to know--a true mother's instinct. But
+not in her wildest dreams had she expected what she saw when she entered
+the drawing-room--her daughter-in-law in her red mortar-board, red cloak
+and bands, with, apparently, her arms round the neck of a young man in
+purple silk stockings and jewelled embroidered gloves with rings outside
+them.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn literally sank into a chair.
+
+Valentia was perfectly equal to the occasion. She thoroughly enjoyed the
+baffling of Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"I can't think why Romer didn't tell you," she repeated several times,
+"that Van Buren is giving a dinner for the fancy ball!" and she rang and
+gave orders that her husband and sister were to come down immediately.
+
+Romer had been four hours dressing; Daphne about ten minutes.
+
+"I do think you ought to have a little make-up. Will you?" said Valentia
+to Vaughan.
+
+"I should love to," he answered, to Mrs. Wyburn's disgust and horror,
+looking in the glass and taking very little notice of the indignant old
+lady.
+
+"He _does_ need just a touch of lip-salve and a little black under the
+eyes, don't you think so?" Valentia asked, caressingly, pretending to
+consult Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure. I've no idea what he wants," said Mrs. Wyburn
+with a snap.
+
+"But don't you think it would improve him, darling?" Valentia went on,
+holding her head on one side and holding up her hand as if she were
+looking at a picture.
+
+"Not at all," said Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"Then do you think his lips are red enough already?" asked Valentia.
+
+Vaughan hastily interrupted the absurd discussion.
+
+"The human lip is never red enough," he said decidedly; "they ought to
+be bright, light scarlet."
+
+"That's just what I think. I've got some lovely scarlet stuff--the
+colour of sealing-wax. Shall I fetch it for you?"
+
+"Yes, do," he said.
+
+"But won't it look rather----"
+
+"No; merely decent," said the young man decidedly.
+
+"And what does Romer say to _all this_?" said Mrs. Wyburn with a forced
+smile and a voice trembling with uncontrollable rage.
+
+"Oh, he likes it, darling. He loves it. No one's been so keen about
+their dress as Romer. I'll go and fetch him, and my roll of parchment--I
+had forgotten my roll of parchment."
+
+She ran upstairs and came down saying--
+
+"Romer won't be a minute, dear; he's awfully anxious for you to see his
+dress. He's just darkening his eyelashes. That's all. He's Louis XIX or
+something, you know."
+
+She then deliberately and openly drew Vaughan to the window where there
+was still bright June daylight and painted his lips a brilliant scarlet
+to their mutual satisfaction and Mrs. Wyburn's unspeakable horror.
+
+"Mad," murmured Mrs. Wyburn, half to herself, "quite mad! I shall be
+quite upset for the Trott-Hellyers' dinner-party. It's Dr.
+Trott-Hellyers' birthday. He only _lives_ three doors from you" (she
+said this rather reproachfully), "and I dine with him _every_ year on
+his birthday! And to think I only came in to see my son for a minute or
+two, because I couldn't bear to pass his door ... his very door...."
+
+"Sweet of you," said Valentia.
+
+... "And then to think I should find----" She screamed suddenly.
+
+Daphne had come in, in her green cloak, doublet and hose, and little
+green cap, Romer in paint and powder, patches and lace ruffles, sword
+and snuffbox. There was a lavish amount of rouge on his cheeks and his
+eyes were blacked almost to the temples.
+
+Hearing that his mother was there he had finished the left eye rather
+hurriedly, the result being that he looked as if he had been fighting.
+
+While the poor lady was trying to adjust herself to this sight, and
+explaining for the sixth time why she was there, and making bitter
+remarks about a young girl going to a ball in what she (Mrs. Wyburn)
+called trousers, and while Daphne kept on wrapping herself in the folds
+of her cloak and then undoing them again to show her nice high boots,
+she was still more distressed at the arrival of her _bête noire_ and
+mortal enemy, Harry de Freyne.
+
+Van Buren had sent his motor for them, containing Harry.
+
+Had his name not been announced by the servant, Mrs. Wyburn would
+certainly not have recognised Harry. He was a pierrot in white satin,
+with a violet tulle ruffle round his neck and a black velvet mask. One
+would know him solely by his single eye-glass, his pleasant voice, and
+fluent conversation.
+
+Pretending to be a clown he jumped in, bowed low to Mrs. Wyburn, and
+kissed first Daphne and then Valentia.
+
+With a last-straw expression Mrs. Wyburn drew herself up to her full
+height.
+
+"Give me my cloak, Romer. I must go. No, don't come to the carriage with
+me. Suppose the Trott-Hellyers were to see you--they'd never get over
+it!"
+
+"Why, it's all right, mother," Romer answered. "I'm all right. I'm a
+courtier--of the tenth century--you know. I'm all right."
+
+"And you approve of your young sister-in-law going to a public ball
+dressed up as a man?"
+
+"Rosalind wasn't a man, mother. You forget; you must read the _Midsummer
+Night's Dream_ again. You've forgotten it."
+
+"I shan't find Rosalind there. But that's not the point. When I came in
+I found Valentia with that man--the man who writes in purple
+knickerbockers----"
+
+"No, he doesn't--he never writes in purple knickerbockers."
+
+"Is this meant to be witty?" she asked with a freezing glare.
+
+"What? No, I shouldn't think so."
+
+"I found _your wife_," she said in a low hissing voice, as they passed
+through the hall where there was a large looking-glass--Romer's
+attention wandered--"within an inch of that young man's face, putting
+ear-rings in his ears!"
+
+"Well, she couldn't put them in a mile off," said Romer absently.
+
+He was now frankly turning his back on his mother, and staring at his
+face in the glass.
+
+"Hang it all! I don't look so bad, do I?"
+
+"You look a gentleman," she answered coldly; "any son of mine must look
+a gentleman. Of course, you look ridiculous--and, as far as that goes,
+you _are_ ridiculous; but that doesn't matter quite so much as long as
+you look a gentleman."
+
+"Oh, rot!"
+
+Romer was trying to move a patch from one corner of his eye to the
+other.
+
+"But as to Harry de Freyne?... And shall you allow your wife to dance
+with him in that costume?"
+
+"Of course--why not? And--_doesn't_ Valentia look--jolly?"
+
+"I think the scarlet with her golden hair is rather too--striking," she
+answered spitefully.
+
+"Oh, _she's_ all right!"
+
+"I think you're all mad!" she answered as she reached the door.
+
+The servant opened it.
+
+"Oh, we're all right. Good night, mother. You'll be late for the
+Trott-Hellyers."
+
+Drawing her cloak over her narrow shoulders, Mrs. Wyburn stepped angrily
+into the brougham.
+
+Although it was only three doors from her son's house, she would not for
+the world have walked.
+
+When she arrived there, still in a very bad temper at all she had seen,
+she nevertheless boasted to her neighbour about how remarkably
+distinguished and handsome her son and daughter-in-law had looked in
+costume, and of their success, charm, perfect domestic happiness, and
+importance and perfection generally.
+
+She succeeded in depressing the fossils on both sides of her, but they
+smiled at each other, indulgent to the feminine weakness of so amiable
+and devoted a mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A CELEBRITY AT HOME
+
+
+Miss Luscombe lived with her mother in a species of tank, or rather in a
+flat that gave that impression because it was in the basement. It was
+dark, and such glimpses as they had of people passing on the pavement
+were extremely odd; it seemed a procession of legs and skirts, like
+something in a pantomime or a cinematograph.
+
+The Luscombes lived, as it were, beneath the surface; but that did not
+prevent their being very much _dans le mouvement_, and coming up with
+great frequency to the surface to breathe. And when one had once walked
+down the steps and found one's way into the tank, it was an extremely
+pleasant one, and quite artistic. It seemed original, too. There was
+something almost freakish in being answered by the parlourmaid (who was
+suitably like a fish in manner and profile), "Miss Luscombe is at home,
+and will you please step downstairs?" when one had rung the bell on the
+ground floor. And Miss Luscombe's ringing laugh with its three soprano
+notes and upward cadence always greeted one charmingly and cordially,
+and one always liked her; one couldn't help it. Her great fault was that
+she was never alone. She existed in an atmosphere of teaparties and
+'afternoons'; like the Lotus-Eaters, she lived in 'that land where it
+was always afternoon'.
+
+For an obscure person she led a singularly public life. In her existence
+there seemed no secrets, no shadows, no contrasts, and no domesticity.
+One could never imagine her except in what she regarded as full dress,
+nor without, by her side, a perpetual bamboo table with three little
+shelves in it, in which were distributed small cut pieces of very yellow
+cake with very black currants, sandwiches, made of rather warm thin
+bread and butter, pink and white cocoanut biscuits, and constant relays
+of strong dark tea made in a drab china teapot. On crowded
+afternoons--in fact, every other Thursday--little coffee cups containing
+lumpy iced coffee were also handed round. When they had music there were
+lemonade, mustard and cress sandwiches, and a buffet.
+
+Even when Miss Luscombe was entirely alone she did not seem so. She had
+got into the habit of talking always as if she were surrounded by
+crowds, and said so much about the celebrities who ought to have turned
+up that one felt almost as depressed as if they had really been there.
+Sometimes they came, for there was no one like Miss Luscombe for
+firmness. Also, she was never offended and was hospitality itself, and
+she had a way of greeting one that was a reward for all one's
+trouble--it seemed much more trouble than it really was, somehow, just
+to step down into the tank. And she was so charming no one could help
+being flattered till the next visitor arrived, when she was even more
+charming.
+
+After the Fancy Ball she had got hold of Valentia, who came to see her
+on one of those Thursdays that she had pointed out as peculiarly her
+own--one of _my_ Thursdays. She really believed that for any one else to
+receive on that day was a kind of infringement of copyright.
+
+Miss Luscombe was wearing on this occasion a drab taffeta silk dress
+with transparent sleeves and a low neck. She wore a rose in her hair, a
+necklace, and long gloves, because she said she wouldn't have time to
+dress again before going out to dinner.
+
+About a dozen people were there--vague shamefaced young men with nothing
+to say, and confident, satirical, fluent young men with a great deal to
+laugh at. Most of the older women seemed a shade patronising in tone,
+and looked as if they had never been there before. On the faces of the
+young women and the girls could be read the resolution never to go there
+again.
+
+Mrs. Luscombe, the mother, was so refined that there was scarcely
+anything of her; her presence was barely perceptible. She had learnt the
+art of self-effacement to the point of showing no trace of being there
+at all. To add to the effect of not being noticeable, she wore a dress
+exactly the same colour as the sofa on which she sat--like those insects
+who, when hiding from their foes, become the colour of the leaves on
+which they live. She was practically invisible.
+
+On the other hand, Miss Luscombe herself was very much there--very much
+_en évidence_. Smiling, greeting, archly laughing, sweetly pouting;
+coquetting, eating, playing, singing, acting--almost dancing--an ideal
+and delightful hostess.
+
+She said to every one as they arrived how sweet it was of them to come
+so early, or how naughty it was of them to come so late, or how horrid
+it was of them not to come last time, or how dear it would be of them if
+they came next. She always introduced people to each other who were not
+on speaking terms, and had intentionally cut each other for years. She
+had a real genius for making people accidentally meet who had just
+broken off their engagement, or had some other awkward reason for not
+wishing to see each other--and then pushing them together so that they
+could not get away. At heart she was intensely a peacemaker, but people
+who had met there rarely made up their quarrels.
+
+When the favourite actor arrived she introduced him to every one till he
+was ready to drop, and when the great singer telegraphed he couldn't
+come, she showed the wire to everybody. Most of the guests preferred his
+not coming. Very few could have endured her triumph had he really
+arrived. On the other hand, they would themselves have far preferred to
+receive a telegram of refusal rather than not to hear from him at all.
+
+When these entertainments were over and the mother and daughter were
+left alone, the daughter became far more thoroughly artificial than she
+was when surrounded by her friends. There was no throwing off the mask;
+on the contrary, it was fixed more firmly on, and Miss Luscombe gave
+free vent to her sham passion for imitation comedy.
+
+On this particular Thursday, as soon as Flora Luscombe had laughed her
+last visitor archly to the door, she knelt by her mother's side, put her
+arms round her, and said--
+
+"Dear, dear Mummy, how sweet it is to be alone!"
+
+Mrs. Luscombe shrank back a little. This pet name, only too appropriate,
+always got a little on her nerves, but she felt bound to play up in an
+amateurish sort of way to a certain extent.
+
+"Hadn't you better go and take off that beautiful dress?" she said.
+"You're not really dining out, are you?"
+
+"No, dearest, I managed to get out of it, but alas! I've got to go to
+the Reception--you know--that horrid Royal Institution of Water
+Colours--afterwards. It isn't worth while to change again. Oh, how weary
+one does get of the continual round! And then to-morrow!" She sighed.
+
+"What is it to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow! Don't talk of it! There's Mrs. Morris's At Home in Maida
+Hill, and then right at the other end of London the Hyslop-Dunn's in
+Victoria Grove. Oh, dear! And yet one feels one must be _seen_ at all
+these places, darling, or else it's remarked at once."
+
+"You live too much for the world," replied her mother, tidying up some
+half-finished watercress sandwiches with a sharp knife. She wondered if,
+thus repaired, they would do for next Thursday.
+
+"You know, Mummy dear, that's the worst of our terrible profession. We
+must keep before the public, or else we drop out and are forgotten. What
+a sweet creature Valentia Wyburn is! I thought she was quite, quite
+dear. And the husband and the cousin are darlings too. Of course they
+wouldn't come; I couldn't get them to an afternoon."
+
+She got up and looked in the glass.
+
+"What a crowd there was to-day! Three people came up to the front door
+at the same time. I think they enjoyed themselves, don't you? Though I
+feel I can't pay every one proper attention when there's such a crush,
+but I do my little best.... Mr. Simpson came up to me and told me I
+looked quite wonderful. But he's a silly thing." She pouted and put her
+head on one side. "Did I look too hideous, darling?"
+
+"Beautiful, of course. The only thing is ..."
+
+Miss Luscombe clapped her hands and laughed.
+
+"Did its little girlie really look as nice as all that? Oh, Mummy,
+Mummy!"
+
+"Charming, dear, I only wish that ..."
+
+"It's too proud of its little daughter, that's what it is," said Miss
+Luscombe, sitting on the arm of her mother's chair. "It's a silly, vain,
+conceited mother, that it is. It can't see any fault in its pet."
+
+She tried to pat her mother's cheek. Mrs. Luscombe moved aside with
+justifiable irritation.
+
+"Don't do that, Flora! Yes, dear, of course, I think you're wonderful,
+and looked sweet to-day; but I do wish ..."
+
+"No, no, it doesn't want anything," said Flora.
+
+"I should be so pleased--if you'd put on just a little less lip-salve
+and not quite so much of that bluish powder."
+
+Having succeeded in completing her sentence, her mother got up and faded
+quickly out of the room and shut the door, leaving Flora looking quite
+surprised and rather upset with being found fault with.
+
+Indeed, she did not quite recover her equanimity until she had looked
+over the cards in the hall and put on a great deal more powder and
+lip-salve, after which she told her mother perhaps she was right, and in
+any case she, Flora, would always do what she asked, and would always
+follow her dear, dear Mummy's advice.
+
+She was so charming and amiable that Mrs. Luscombe pretended to believe
+her, and said it was _sweet_ of her to take it all off and go out that
+evening without any adventitious aids to beauty; and this she said in
+spite of the obvious fact that Flora had evidently put on considerably
+more than usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MISCHIEF
+
+
+The elder Mrs. Wyburn was seated at the gloomy window of her
+sulky-looking house in Curzon Street one bright day in the season,
+looking out with some anxiety.
+
+"Of course she's late; but if that woman doesn't come I'll never forgive
+her. She's a silly fool, but at least she does hear what's going on,"
+she reflected.
+
+At this moment an old-fashioned-looking victoria drove up, drawn by two
+large grey horses. In it sat a rather fat and important-looking lady,
+with greyish red hair, a straight decided mouth, and several firm chins.
+Her most marked characteristic was her intense decision on trivialities.
+She was always curiously definite on the vaguest of subjects, and
+extraordinarily firm and sensible about nothing in particular.
+
+Miss Westbury was a rich unmarried woman, with a peculiarly matronly
+appearance, a good-natured love of giving advice, and with views that
+obviously dated--one did not know exactly from when. If she had some of
+the Victorian severities of the sixties, she had also many of the
+sentimental vagaries of the eighties. The serious business of her life
+was gossip. In her lighter moments she collected autographs. But her
+gossip differed from that of the nervous, impatient Mrs. Wyburn in that
+it was far more pompous and moral, and not nearly so spiteful and
+accurate.
+
+Miss Westbury sailed in--I need hardly say she was dressed in
+heliotrope--and sat down rather seriously in a large--and the only
+comfortable--armchair.
+
+"My dear Millie, how extremely good of you to come!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Wyburn.
+
+Miss Westbury had been christened Maria, but Millie was the name which
+she had chosen to be called by her friends.
+
+"I am very pleased to come, dear Isabella. To call on you on one of your
+Wednesdays is, I know, quite hopeless if one has anything to say. To
+call on any one on a day at home, except as a mere matter of form, I do
+not consider sensible."
+
+"Quite so. Will you have some tea?"
+
+Mrs. Wyburn rang the bell rather fretfully. She did not care for
+Millie's made conversation, and hated her way of gaining time.
+
+"I will have what I always have, dear Mrs. Wyburn, at five o'clock, if I
+may--hot water with one teaspoonful of milk, and a saccharine tablet
+which I bring with me. I am not a faddist, and I think all those sort of
+fancies about what is and what is not good for one are exceedingly
+foolish; but when I go in for a régime, dear, I give it a fair chance.
+Otherwise there is no sense in it!"
+
+She settled herself still more sensibly and decidedly in her chair.
+
+"I wonder," said Mrs. Wyburn nervously--one could see she was not
+listening, and thought Miss Westbury was merely drivelling on--"whether
+you will come to the point at once? It would be a great comfort if you
+would. I have been feeling quite anxious about your visit. I rather
+foolishly took some coffee after lunch, and it kept me awake the whole
+afternoon--either that, or my anxiety."
+
+"If you take coffee after lunch," replied Miss Westbury, "you should
+take it made as I do. Two teaspoonfuls of coffee in a large
+breakfast-cup full of hot water, a saccharine tablet, and a teaspoonful
+of condensed----"
+
+"What was it you really heard, Millie dear, about my daughter-in-law?"
+interrupted Mrs. Wyburn sharply.
+
+Here the footman brought in the tea. Miss Westbury frowned, and
+ostentatiously changed the subject.
+
+"Have you been to the Grafton? I was persuaded to go. I think, myself,
+there's a great deal too much fuss made about pictures nowadays. When
+one thinks of the money that's wasted on them, when it might be sent to
+a hospital, it makes one's blood boil! And some of those that are made
+the most fuss about--both the Old Masters and the very new ones--these
+post-men, or whatever they're called--seem to me perfect nonsense. A
+daub and a splash--no real trouble taken--and then you're expected to
+rave about it. There's one man--some one wants me to buy a picture of
+his--he paints all his pictures in tiny squares of different colours;
+when you're close you can't see anything, but it seems that if you walk
+five feet away it forms into a kind of pattern. It seems it's the
+tessellated school, and they tell me that in a few years nothing else
+will count. And what I thought was a mountain in a mist turns out to be
+'A Nun with cows grazing.' Silly nonsense I call it!"
+
+"Was the nun grazing, or the cows?" asked Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"Goodness knows, dear. Then there was that other one called Waning Day,
+or something. Two people in a boat sailing on dry land! Then that
+picture of a purple man with a green beard! Oh, my dear! The people who
+took me there told me it was full of--something French--_essayage_, or
+_mouvement_, I think. The man who tried to make me buy it said it was
+symbolical. But of course I refused. You know I never have anything to
+do with nonsense. Well now, my dear----" Taking pity on Mrs. Wyburn's
+extreme impatience, Miss Westbury came a little nearer. "What I heard
+was simply this. My cousin, Jane Totness, took her little boy, who is in
+London for the holidays, to the British Museum. She always likes to
+improve his mind as much as possible; besides, he had been promised a
+treat after having a tooth out; the first week of the holidays he always
+has a tooth out and a treat after. Jane is like that; she's a sensible
+woman, and I must say I think she brings her boys up very well. I myself
+might have been more inclined to take him to Madame Tussaud's, or even
+to a matinée, or to have an ice at Buzzard's; but I dare say I'm
+old-fashioned enough in some ways, and Jane knows her own business
+best."
+
+"No doubt she does," said Mrs. Wyburn, quivering with impatience,
+tapping her foot on the floor, and trying to restrain herself. "And so
+she took the little boy--Charlie, isn't it?--to the British Museum? Go
+on, dear!"
+
+"Not Charlie, Mrs. Wyburn. It was little Laurence--little Laurence. He
+was called Laurence after his grandfather, Lord Dorking. It's the rule
+in the Totness family; the second son is always called after the
+grandfather, the eldest son after his father, and the third son--I mean,
+of course, if there is one--after the mother's father. Don't you think
+it's a very sensible plan, dear?"
+
+Mrs. Wyburn gave her friend first a sympathetic smile, and then a
+murderous glance.
+
+"Yes. Well?"
+
+"Oh yes. Well, she was just pointing out something to little
+Laurence--he's an intelligent boy, and I dare say he was enjoying it
+very much--when, to her great surprise, _who_ should she see but Mrs.
+Romer Wyburn, talking away like anything on a seat with--who do you
+think?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"That young man Harry de Freyne--her cousin, isn't it?"
+
+"How extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn. "Did they seem uncomfortable
+when they saw Jane?"
+
+"Oh dear, no, my dear. They seemed most comfortable. Jane bowed to
+them--of course rather coldly, she says--and they smiled and nodded, and
+Valentia kissed her hand to Laurence. Of course, Jane was very much
+pained and shocked about it all. I must say her first thought, dear, was
+that I should tell you. Jane Totness is a thoroughly good woman--so
+thoughtful."
+
+"Do you see anything so very peculiar about it?" said Mrs. Wyburn. "You
+know, the young man--I disapprove of him as strongly as any one can--but
+he's an artist, and she is his cousin, and perhaps he wanted to show her
+something in the British Museum?"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Wyburn, far be it from me to look on the dark side of
+things, but, as Jane said, who on earth would go to the British Museum,
+unless they were dragged there by force, except to have a private
+interview?"
+
+"But if he wanted to speak to her alone, I don't see why he shouldn't
+call on her."
+
+"That's just it. If it were a simple, innocent, harmless conversation,
+that is what he would have done. But it was quite clear that there was
+something clandestine about it, and you may be quite sure Romer knew
+nothing of it. Besides, they are always together."
+
+"It does look odd," said Mrs. Wyburn. "What would you advise me to do?
+Shall I speak to my son or my daughter-in-law about it?"
+
+"To neither, my dear. If you speak only to your son, he will tell her,
+and she will get round him, and prove there's nothing in it. If you
+speak to her she will get round you, and say that Romer knew all about
+it. My advice is, if you really want to put a stop to this
+flirtation--I'm sure it's gossiped about--even Jane, who is the last
+person in the world to talk, speaks of it to every one. If I were you, I
+would speak to the young man himself."
+
+"To Harry de Freyne? Yes, it's rather a good idea."
+
+It struck Mrs. Wyburn that to do this would, perhaps, cause more
+annoyance than anything else. She was now anxious to get rid of Miss
+Westbury, who evidently had nothing more to impart. But that lady was
+not so easy to dispose of. She broke into a long monologue on the
+subject of régime, servants, and little dressmakers, occasionally
+returning to the subject of the British Museum, and the shocking
+frivolity there.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn was just thinking of having a violent toothache or some
+other ill, when Miss Westbury suddenly made up her mind to depart.
+
+As soon as she had gone Mrs. Wyburn flew to the Blue Book, looked up
+Harry's address, and wrote him the following note:--
+
+     "Dear Mr. de Freyne,
+
+     "Probably you hardly remember me, but I have met you on two or
+     three occasions at the house of my daughter-in-law, Mrs. Romer
+     Wyburn. There is something I want to say to you which I hardly
+     like to write. I should be glad if you would come and see me
+     to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock. I shall not keep you long.
+     You may think this a strange request, knowing you so slightly as
+     I do, but when we meet, I am sure you will understand.
+
+                                             "Yours truly,
+                                             "ISABELLA WYBURN."
+
+Having written this note, Mrs. Wyburn felt too impatient to send it by
+post; she was simply longing to know that Harry was feeling
+uncomfortable, as he was very certain to feel when he got the letter.
+Although she had a great suspicion and general dislike of the Messenger
+Boy Service, she relented for once in their favour so far as to make use
+of them, and the letter was sent by hand.
+
+She was rewarded for thus conquering her prejudice. Harry was at home,
+and accepted her invitation with most respectful alacrity. His
+manners--especially on paper--were, with old and young ladies, always
+equally perfect--unless he was out of temper.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn eagerly hoped Harry would see Valentia, or somehow convey to
+her about the letter, because it would be sure to make her uneasy also.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The next day the young man was punctual to the moment. The old lady left
+him alone for a few minutes in the dark, dismal drawing-room. She
+thought it would have a salutary effect.
+
+She found him, when she came in, stroking the china bird, and looking at
+himself in the mirror above it.
+
+He received her with such charming grace that she felt almost
+disconcerted, and as if she ought to apologise.
+
+"You received my letter?" she said, rather abruptly.
+
+"With great pleasure. That is why I am here."
+
+He was still standing, smiling delightfully.
+
+"Sit down," she said, with cold graciousness. "I hope you are not in a
+great hurry?"
+
+"All my day belongs to you," he replied with a low bow, taking the seat
+she had indicated. He looked at her with soft deference under his long
+eyelashes.
+
+She found what she had to say more difficult than she had expected. She
+spoke quietly, in a low yet rasping voice, with a sharp dignity.
+
+"I will come straight to the point. To put it plainly, a report has
+reached my ears, Mr. de Freyne, which has caused me very great pain and
+anxiety--I mean, as a mother. And I wondered whether you----"
+
+"As a mother? Surely, Mrs. Wyburn, nothing against Romer? I'm sure I, as
+one of his oldest friends...."
+
+"Against Romer!" She drew herself up stiffly. "Most certainly not!
+There's never been a word breathed otherwise than in dear Romer's favour
+since he was a little boy."
+
+Harry appeared much relieved.
+
+"It's a great comfort to hear you say that. It's only what I was going
+to assure you."
+
+"Besides, do you suppose for one moment that if I had any fault to find
+with my son I should send for you?"
+
+She already had an annoying fancy that he was defeating her, laughing at
+her, and turning the tables.
+
+"It seemed certainly rather strange," Harry said.
+
+"No, indeed! When I say I was troubled as a mother, I meant it in a
+very different sense. What I'm afraid of is that dear Romer might be
+worried if he heard the report to which I refer."
+
+"And that is?..."
+
+She looked at him spitefully, yet with a reluctant admiration.
+
+He was irritatingly good-looking, good-humoured, and at his ease, and
+particularly well-dressed, without appearing in the least conscious of
+it. She wished immensely that he had been plain, or awkward, or even out
+at elbows, or absurdly dandified, or looked _nouveau riche_, or
+something! She felt jealous of him for Romer, and, at the back of her
+brain, she grudgingly and perversely sympathised a little with her
+daughter-in-law. Harry radiated a peculiar charm for women of all ages.
+He did not study them nor try very much to please them; the fascination
+was involuntary; he simply used it.
+
+"And that is, that you and my daughter-in-law, Valentia, were seen
+_alone_----" she paused a moment, showing a latent instinct for dramatic
+effect.
+
+He smiled a little more, and bent his head forward with every sign of
+intelligent interest.
+
+She spoke with emphasis.
+
+"_Alone_--the other morning--at the British Museum!"
+
+Somehow she felt the shot had missed fire. It had fallen flat. It was
+less effective than she had hoped. It did not sound so very shocking
+after all.
+
+He continued to smile with the air of waiting for the climax. She
+gathered herself together and went on--
+
+"I heard it from Miss Westbury, so it is a fact!"
+
+Harry thought of saying that he preferred an old wives' tale any day to
+an old maid's fact, but he only smiled on.
+
+"Of course, if this is untrue, Mr. de Freyne--if it is a mistake, or a
+false report, you have merely to deny it. Assure me it is incorrect--on
+your word of honour--and I will then contradict it in the proper
+quarter."
+
+He decided on his line. "My dear lady, pray don't contradict it. As a
+report it is a gem--it is unique. Not merely because it's absolutely
+true--for, as a matter of fact, I think most reports are--but because of
+its utter unimportance! It seems to me so trivial--so dull--so wanting
+in interest to the general public."
+
+"You think reports are usually true, Mr. de Freyne?"
+
+"I am convinced they are. I believe firmly in the no-smoke-without-fire
+theory. Oh, do you know, I think it is _so_ true!... This certainly is
+true--it's a solemn fact."
+
+"You admit it?"
+
+"I do indeed! Surely I could hardly refuse to go when I was asked?"
+
+"Oh, you were asked?"
+
+"Certainly. And Romer is really such a very old friend of mine, I could
+hardly refuse his request. I may be wrong, but I think one should always
+be ready to take a little trouble for an old friend."
+
+"No doubt you have very strict ideas on the duties and obligations of
+friendship! At _his_ request--my son's?"
+
+"Yes; your son asked me to go and escort Valentia."
+
+"It is very peculiar; you must see that your explanation sounds
+extremely odd."
+
+"Not at all odd," he answered softly, "if you will allow me to
+contradict you." He thought a moment. Then he went on: "You may have
+heard, perhaps, about the dance that little American, Mrs. Newhaven, is
+getting up at the Grafton Galleries for _Deaf and Dumb Dogs and Cats_.
+No? Well, every one is going, and they're arranging to have, by way of
+novelty, Quadrilles of different nationalities. Romer and his wife are
+to dance in the Egyptian Quadrille, and he asked me to take her to the
+British Museum to look round and see if we could find some inspiration
+for Egyptian costumes that wouldn't be too impossible. But when we got
+there, we suddenly remembered the awful story about one of the mummies
+being unlucky, so we went into the Print Room and remained there."
+
+De Freyne paused.
+
+"Of course, if that is all--if my son knows of your going, and even
+asked you to go, there's nothing more to be said ... though I think it
+very foolish, and I don't approve of any of that sort of thing at all."
+
+"What, not of Egyptian quadrilles, Mrs. Wyburn?" asked Harry, with
+surprised innocence and in a coaxing voice. "Why, I'm sure it will be
+frightfully harmless--in fact, very invigorating to the mind. It's not
+as though the dresses were becoming! We saw the most hideous things at
+the Museum. We met Lady Totness, who was dragging a wretched little boy
+about--I suppose as a punishment for something."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn smiled slightly. She began to feel rather inclined to relent
+at the implication that Lady Totness was hideous.
+
+"There you really are wrong, Mr. de Freyne. The boy was taken there as a
+treat."
+
+"A _treat_! For whom? For him? What a strange idea--I mean, to think it
+could be a treat to go anywhere with her, Mrs. Wyburn."
+
+"It is, rather," she acknowledged.
+
+"Well, then, if that is really all that was troubling you, I do hope
+you're happy now?"
+
+He said this with one of his subtle, insinuating changes of tone that
+were always so effective. Musicians will understand when I say it was
+like a change from the common chord in the minor to the dominant in the
+major. It was partly from force of habit, partly because he really
+wished to win Mrs. Wyburn over.
+
+"Of course, now you've given the explanation it's, _so far_, all right.
+You'll have a cup of tea with me, won't you?"
+
+"I should enjoy it particularly. Let me ring." After a minute or two she
+said--
+
+"But perhaps I might venture to suggest it might be better--more
+prudent--if you were to go about a little less with Valentia?... Of
+course, I quite see now that you're so devoted to Romer, and like a
+brother and so forth, but I can't help considering what people say."
+
+"Don't call Lady Totness people, Mrs. Wyburn! Think what a disagreeable,
+insincere woman she is--not a bit _femme du monde_, and so exceptionally
+stupid and spiteful!"
+
+Harry stayed with her for an hour, having tea, chatting, telling her
+stories against every one she didn't like, and speaking with a kind of
+tender and admiring familiarity of both Valentia and Romer, in a way
+that at once reassured and flattered her.
+
+Finally, she actually found herself begging Harry to use his influence
+with the young couple to be less frivolous and mondains, and not to be
+always going out, which he promised to do. She even confided to him her
+great wish that they had two or three children, which would steady them
+down, and he warmly agreed with her, but said that he felt that on that
+subject it was, perhaps, hardly for him to interfere.
+
+Of course he confided in her, in his turn, how frightfully hard up one
+was, with no one buying pictures, and outsiders winning all the big
+races after having no earthly chance on any form they had shown that
+season. Mrs. Wyburn positively tried to talk racing with him for a
+minute or two--rather pathetically--but soon got out of her depth and
+fell back on Art. She said she thought, candidly, that Harry's portrait
+of his cousin was a pity.
+
+They parted excellent friends, she even asking him as a favour not to
+tell Romer the reason of his visit. To Valentia he might mention it, as
+Mrs. Wyburn thought it might be a lesson to her.
+
+Harry professed, at first, some little scruple on the point. He scarcely
+liked, he said, the idea of concealing it from Romer. They always told
+each other everything. But Mrs. Wyburn was afraid of her son's
+anger--which she could not endure, unless _she_ was in the right--and
+of appearing ridiculously meddling. Harry owned that her conduct
+_might_ seem rather malicious and absurd. At last he consented, and it
+was agreed that neither of them should ever say anything about it to
+Romer at all.
+
+It is scarcely necessary to say that Harry kept his promise of silence
+to the letter. Had he not done so the story would at least have had the
+interest of novelty, for Romer had never yet heard anything about the
+expedition to the British Museum, and he never did.
+
+A week or two later, when Mrs. Newhaven's ball at the Grafton Galleries
+was described in the paper, Mrs. Wyburn, who read the account, observed
+that there was no reference whatever to quadrilles of various
+nationalities--Egyptian or otherwise; and she rather wondered at the
+omission. But it did not occur to her to suppose that this portion of
+the entertainment had been entirely imaginary--a lurid figment of
+Harry's vivid fancy and fertile invention.
+
+He left, it must be said, on the old lady a lasting impression--by no
+means an unfavourable one. Even when she had reason to grow seriously
+anxious again on the same subject, she never could bring herself in her
+own mind to blame Harry--she could not at heart think ill of him. She
+was only extremely angry with Romer and Valentia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE FRIENDS
+
+
+Harry had baffled Mrs. Wyburn for the time. He always dealt with his
+difficulties one by one as they cropped up, not _en masse_, and
+invariably in a manner that relieved the tension for a short time
+only--he rarely did anything radical.
+
+His financial position was, however, growing rather serious, and
+occasionally the thought of Miss Walmer flitted through his mind.
+
+To marry Miss Walmer would be far the quickest and simplest way out of
+his difficulties, and she would really be very little trouble, as little
+trouble, perhaps, as any wife could be. Besides, Harry had, with reason,
+great confidence in his own powers of dealing with women--getting
+whatever it was that he wanted from them, and afterwards preventing
+their being a nuisance. But he did not much like the idea of this
+mercenary marriage, because he was not in the least tired of his romance
+with Valentia, and saw great difficulties in the way of keeping it up
+later on. He had worrying doubts as to her consenting to revive it
+afterwards if he married.
+
+Her grey eyes and soft fair hair with its dense waves held a lasting
+fascination for him. It has been well said that for each individual
+there exists in some other being some detail which he or she could find
+only in this particular person. It might be the merest trifle. Harry
+knew what it was in Val that had a specially compelling charm to him--it
+was the way her hair grew on her forehead. And there was something
+childlike in her expression that made a peculiar appeal to him. The
+power her face had over him was undiminished--it had begun seriously
+when he painted her portrait, and had grown gradually since then. And
+she was the only woman he had ever met whose affection for him did not
+cool his own enthusiasm. On the contrary, it was one of the things which
+held him to her most.
+
+In a sense he was even loyal to her. Harry was not one of those
+extravagant Don Juans who made conquests solely for the gratification of
+their vanity by adding to their collection. Essentially cool and
+calculating, he used his attractiveness only when he thought it would be
+of some genuine value to him, or some real satisfaction. As a Lovelace
+he was economical.
+
+Though a great connoisseur of feminine charm and beauty, and
+superficially susceptible and excitable, with all this, as many women
+knew, Harry was as hard as nails.
+
+Valentia was the only woman for whom he had ever felt, besides the
+physical attraction, a kind of indulgent tenderness. This was partly, no
+doubt, because they had been fond of each other as children, and because
+of a racial sympathy, a _sentiment de famille_ due to their
+relationship. But it was not really to be depended on.
+
+No one could be a more charmingly devoted lover than Harry. There was no
+one like him for little attentions and inattentions, charming little
+thoughts, caressing words, and the little jealous scenes that women
+value. It was not the mere mechanically experienced love-making that
+women see through and to which they often prefer a clumsy sincerity. It
+was natural, spontaneous. He had, in fact, a genius for love-making, but
+he had not, like Romer, a genius for love. Harry had all the gift of
+expression--poor Romer had only the gift of feeling.
+
+But notwithstanding Harry's magnetism, a woman once disillusioned by him
+was disillusioned for ever. Women never forgave him. His romances
+generally ended suddenly, and always irrevocably.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+Harry had no great love of truth in the abstract, but, at least, he
+never deceived himself. He saw through his own unscrupulousness, and
+rather despised it just as he despised his own work as a painter. He had
+grown really fond of Van Buren for the simple, sincere qualities in
+which Harry knew himself to be deficient; and the American's
+whole-hearted admiration--almost infatuation--for him gave Harry the
+pleasure one feels in the frank devotion of a child. It touched him,
+even while he intended to make use of it, because it was his nature to
+make use of everything. It is an infallible sign of the second-rate in
+nature and intellect to make use of everything and every one. The genius
+is incapable of making use of people. It is for the second-rate clever
+people to make use of him.
+
+One morning Harry had heard unexpectedly that he had sold a picture--a
+thing that rarely happened--and was looking at the cheque he had
+received, when Van Buren came into the studio. Harry told the news.
+
+"Well, Harry, I do congratulate you, with all my heart! What are you
+going to do with that?"
+
+"Frame it," said Harry. "It's the only one I've had for three years.
+It's a curiosity."
+
+The American laughed.
+
+"Harry, I guess what you're really going to do--you're going to give
+yourself the humble joy of paying some of the more pressing liabilities.
+I know you!"
+
+"My dear fellow, that would be mad extravagance! Oh no. You see, this
+cheque is--just enough to be no earthly use."
+
+Van Buren sat down.
+
+"Harry, if you'd only let me.... But I know that vexes you, so I won't
+talk of it. You're Quixotic, that's what's the matter with you." He
+smiled, pleased with the word. "Yes, Quixotic! I want to speak to you
+about your cousin--I mean Miss Daphne, the beauteous broo-nette."
+
+"Well, how do you think you're getting on?" asked Harry, who already
+knew from Valentia that it was hopeless.
+
+"Not as well as I should like, Harry. I can't say I feel I'm making any
+very great progress. She's a dream, but I'm afraid she regards me as a
+heavy-weight. She's only a child, really, I know. She would prefer a
+little boy of her own age who would make her laugh. Maybe she thinks I'm
+too old. What do you say?"
+
+"You must give her time."
+
+"I pay her every little attention that I can," said Van Buren seriously.
+
+"Perhaps you're too attentive."
+
+"I'd give her anything in the world she wanted, Harry, if she'd let me."
+
+"Well, give her a miss for safety."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Why--this evening you're going to meet her at a dance, aren't you--at
+the Walmers'?"
+
+"Yes; I'm looking forward to that."
+
+"Well, don't go--don't turn up. Then she'll miss you. Say, to-morrow,
+you were prevented."
+
+Van Buren began to smile.
+
+"I see what you mean. It's an idea. You do hand me some good advice! Is
+it what you would do yourself, Harry?"
+
+"It's what I'm always doing."
+
+"But then I don't like the idea of being rude. One always wants to give
+the impression of being well-bred, no matter what the facts maybe."
+
+"It won't be rude. She'll be thinking about you much more than if you
+were there, wondering why you're not."
+
+"You mean it will keep her guessing, Harry?"
+
+"That's the idea. I shan't say you're not coming. I'll pretend to be
+expecting you too."
+
+"Well, perhaps I'll try that. I know I've only got an outside chance.
+She counts me as one of the also-rans."
+
+"Are you really very devoted, old chap? Would you break your heart if it
+didn't come off?"
+
+Van Buren thought a moment, then said with his scrupulous truthfulness--
+
+"Well, no: I can hardly say that, Harry. I'm not so far gone as all
+that. But I think she's a very beautiful, charming, well-brought-up
+young lady--a typical English girl--a June rose, a real peach. She's the
+ideal of the sort of girl I'd like to marry. But if she's out of my
+reach--well, I should resign myself."
+
+"Would you try for some one else? There are probably about a million
+girls just like that, you know, who would be only too delighted."
+
+Van Buren shook his head.
+
+"She's the only girl I should care about marrying. If it doesn't come
+off I shall go back to New York. And I do wish you'd come with me. A
+fellow with your talents would do splendidly there. Why, I'd find you a
+place in the Bank in New York. I'd see you made your fortune pretty
+quick. But you'd never leave London."
+
+"I'm not so sure. Anyway, we'll give it a chance till the autumn."
+
+"Yes, I must see it to a finish."
+
+"If you don't settle down here, then, would you marry an American girl?"
+
+"No. In that case I shan't marry at all. I shall settle down to the life
+of a lonely bachelor--choose the broad and easy path that leads to
+single misery, Harry." He laughed.
+
+"Instead of the straight and narrow road that leads to married
+unhappiness," said Harry. "So you _are_ very keen on Daphne?"
+
+"Not exactly that, perhaps. But it must be her or no one for a
+life-partner. She's the only girl who ever made any appeal to me from
+the point of view of domestic life. When I think of a happy home and a
+fireside with her, it makes me curl like an autumn leaf."
+
+"What a curious chap you are," said Harry, smiling.
+
+"See here," said Van Buren, taking a letter out of his pocket. "I've got
+a letter from a lady--it's signed Flora Luscombe--but I don't seem to
+remember anything about her."
+
+Harry took the letter. It was written on mauve paper in a somewhat
+straggling hand, and was dated from "Dimsdale Mansions, St. Stephen's
+Road, North Kensington." It was a pathetic, yet cheery invitation to
+tea.
+
+"It's Miss Luscombe, of the Tank, as we call it," said Harry.
+
+"Oh, the actress? Well, I think I shall go, Harry. I've never had the
+opportunity of mixing much in dramatic circles. It's real kind of her to
+have asked me, I must say. I didn't even remember her."
+
+"No one ever remembers her. But it's amusing and absurd. You'll meet
+some of the people you like. Flora will show you round--point out all
+the obscurities there, and so forth. Oh, she's a good soul--old Flora."
+
+"Is she old, Harry?"
+
+"About twenty-three, or thirty-three. I like her, though she's rather a
+snob."
+
+"Ah, they say all Americans are snobs, Harry, but I feel sure I'm not.
+Still, if I really liked a man I can't say I should turn against him
+even if he had a title."
+
+"And if I really hated a person I should never get to like him, even if
+he had a bad reputation."
+
+Van Buren looked surprised and impressed, also delighted.
+
+"Is that a paradox, or an epigram, Harry?"
+
+"I can't think!"
+
+"Won't you tell me what it is?"
+
+"It's bosh," said Harry impressively, "mere bosh!"
+
+"Tell me what you really mean by it."
+
+"How should I know? I haven't the very slightest idea," Harry said,
+stretching himself.
+
+Van Buren looked thoughtfully out of the window.
+
+"How do you suppose our ro-mances will end?"
+
+"As badly as possible; romances always do," said Harry. "We ought to be
+only too thankful that they end at all."
+
+"Why, I'm afraid you're a pessimist! How do you define a pessimist,
+Harry?"
+
+"What a mania you have for definition, old chap! I think I agree with
+the little girl who said that an optimist is the man who looks after
+your eyes, and the pessimist the person who looks after your feet."
+
+"Why, that's very subtle. I quite see what she means. There's a lot in
+that idea, Harry." He thought gravely.
+
+"Is there? Well, come out to lunch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A HOME CHAT
+
+
+"Yes, Romer, on the whole I don't think our season's been a success.
+With any amount of struggle, worry, bother, clothes, motoring, and
+making up parties, we've just succeeded in not getting Daphne married to
+Van Buren, and putting your mother in a perpetual, constant, lasting bad
+temper."
+
+"Have we?" said Romer.
+
+He was sitting in an arm-chair listening, as usual, while Valentia
+talked. He did not always understand what she was saying, nor did he
+even always know the subject she was discussing, but he loved to hear
+her voice, that was like an incantation in his ears. He said a few words
+occasionally, desiring that the musical sound should continue.
+
+"All our old friends seem to have grown dull and sensible except Harry,
+and he's been rather jerky and unsatisfactory--and all the new ones have
+turned out complete failures. When I say they're complete failures, of
+course I mean they've bored me. But, of course, it may not have been
+their object in life to do anything else."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Look at Mr. Rathbone--a man like that, tattooed, and collecting old
+programmes of theatres. Well, he's as dull as ditchwater, perfectly
+stupid and always saying the right thing to the wrong people. Then
+Captain Foster, who seemed perfectly harmless and only decorative, turns
+out to be really dangerous, and to count. He's in love with Daphne, and
+he has got his mother, who is very weak and foolish and sentimental,
+round on his side, and Daphne's always going to tea or to lunch there,
+and they've utterly spoilt her--at least, her taste in hats has gone all
+wrong, and she told me that Mrs. Foster had pink paper shavings in her
+drawing-room fireplace, and asked me why I didn't have them too!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. And though she's very good, I know it'll end in our having to give
+in, and a pretty wedding, and a tiny flat, and utter wretchedness! And
+Daphne will get to like old Mrs. Foster better than me, and they'll have
+five hundred a year at the most; and even if they aren't really
+miserable she'll have to gradually grow suburban, and come up to the
+theatre and have to rush off so as to catch the last train back to
+Boshan or Doddington or somewhere! I mean if they take a little house
+out of town--near Mrs. Foster. However, I'm not going to give in just
+yet.... I could understand a slight sacrifice--or even a big one if I
+were in love with Captain Foster, but I'm not. I suppose you'll say that
+I needn't be, but that isn't the point. The utter absurdity is that all
+Daphne wants of him she could see now. No one minds her seeing him. But
+why should she break up her life and spoil her future for it? Of course,
+_that_ part is _his_ idea. He is so selfish that he isn't satisfied with
+the harmless fun they have now, but wants her to live all her life in a
+sort of workman's cottage or tenement building just for the sake of the
+joy, privilege, and honour of having every meal with him!"
+
+"What a brute!" said Romer mildly.
+
+"Isn't he? And suppose a war broke out, and that darling, handsome boy
+perhaps put an end to suddenly by a bullet, or mentioned in despatches,
+or something, and promoted--oh, please don't talk to me about it any
+more, Romer. I hate the life. But I suppose she'll have to go her own
+way."
+
+Valentia paused and looked pensively in the glass.
+
+"And dear Van Buren, he's been pretty badly treated, I think. I suppose
+he knows it isn't my fault or Harry's. I try to make up for it in lots
+of ways--by getting him an introduction to the man who wants to fly
+across the Atlantic. I really hoped he would say to Van Buren, 'Fly with
+me!' but he didn't, and in the most roundabout way and by the most
+fearful lot of trouble--chiefly through me--he was asked to dinner to
+meet that other man--I forget his name, the one who keeps on discovering
+the North Pole. And it seems he is a dear, and awfully good-looking. And
+then he--Van, I mean--has met Bernard Shaw, and Graham White, and Lloyd
+George, and Thomas Hardy, and Sargent, and Lord Roberts, and Henry
+James, and even Gabrielle Ray, so he hasn't had such a bad time in
+London. I don't see that he has anything to complain of, do you, Romer?"
+
+"Shouldn't think so."
+
+"That was what he wanted, you know," continued Valentia. "But if we
+couldn't get him a wife as well, it's not our fault. I'm sure we've
+tried our best. He's such a dear, and very fond of England. He has been
+most useful to Harry, I'm sure; and----I think the new fashions are
+simply frightful. The new way they're going to do the hair will be
+revoltingly unbecoming, and the whole thing will make every one look
+hopelessly dowdy. The smarter you are, the more of a frump you will
+look!"
+
+"Oh, I say, Val!"
+
+"Yes, you will--I mean I will, but I won't.... Because I'm not going to
+follow the fashion like a sheep. And if you're not very careful I shall
+dress in a style of my own."
+
+"Like a sheep! Do sheep follow the fashion?"
+
+"Of course they do. Didn't you know that? What one does all the rest do.
+Of course it doesn't change so often--even in the best Southdown
+circles--at least _we_ don't notice the change. When a new kind of 'baa'
+comes in and they all echo it we don't see any difference, but I don't
+suppose they see any difference in our fashions either. Oh, and Romer,
+I've been worried because I feel I've got so frightfully empty-headed
+and unintellectual through just _living_, never reading or thinking,
+when we go down to the Green Gate I shall read a lot of serious books.
+I'm going to read H. G. Wells, and Hichens, and Aristotle, and some
+history, and all sorts of 'improving' things. When are we going?"
+
+"As soon as possible," said Romer, brightening up. "Let's go next
+Wednesday."
+
+"Oh, I can't be ready quite as soon as that, Romer dear! Let's go on
+Tuesday. I'll arrange it all."
+
+"Good!" said Romer, beaming.
+
+"And I'll get Harry to come down with us."
+
+"Thought he was going yachting with the Walmers?"
+
+"Oh no, he's not, after all.... He doesn't really care for the sea."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Harry, of course, is sorry for Van Buren," continued Valentia. "And yet
+he takes Daphne's part about Cyril Foster. He knows it's spoiling her,
+but he thinks she ought to be spoilt; he's so fond of Daphne."
+
+"Why doesn't he marry her himself?" asked Romer.
+
+"Harry?" She looked at him in surprise. "Why, Romer, what a harpist you
+are. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, he never
+marries! Harry has a great many bad habits, goodness knows. But marrying
+isn't one of them."
+
+"Do you think he's keen on some one else?" asked Romer after a rather
+long pause.
+
+She seemed annoyed at the question, then smiled again.
+
+"I don't know! The other day I called at the studio unexpectedly to ask
+for something I'd forgotten, and found Harry improvising at the
+piano--you know that way he has of improvising from memory--an
+inaccurate memory--of some well-known composer. I've never known him do
+it except when he wanted to--please some woman. Well, Lady Walmer was
+there, leaning over the piano and listening. Should you think from that
+he's keen, as you call it, on her?"
+
+"Lady Walmer! At her age!"
+
+"Why, Romer, she's no older than anybody else! It doesn't matter
+nowadays in the very slightest degree whether one is twenty-eight, or
+thirty-eight, or even forty-eight. To a modern man it's all exactly the
+same. Of course, if a flapper is what is required, well then, naturally,
+he must be shown to another department. But apart from that--why, Lady
+Walmer would be quite as dangerous a rival for me as a woman ten years
+or twenty years younger. And I'm not twenty-five yet."
+
+"Rival to _you_? What do you mean?"
+
+Romer stared at her, a spark of his fanatic admiration showing in his
+eyes.
+
+She laughed and hurried on.
+
+"Nothing. I never mean anything. I know what you think, Harry is not a
+marrying man, but he might become one. But a girl like Alec Walmer! With
+the figure of a suffragette and the mind of a canary who plays cricket,
+or a goose who goes in for golf----"
+
+"Heaps of cash."
+
+"Yes, I know. But Harry's an artist--he needs sympathy."
+
+"He's got his head screwed on the right way."
+
+"But his heart's in the right place."
+
+"What is the right place?"
+
+"Don't be irritating, Romer. We'll go to the Green Gate on Monday then.
+And now I must go out and order a short tweed skirt, and a garden
+roller, and a few other things that we shall need in the country. Leave
+it all to me! No, I never forget anything; even your mother says I'm
+practical. And oh, do let's try and put her in a good temper before we
+go away. You'd better go and see her and say good-bye to-day, early in
+the afternoon, alone. And then I'll go in late and take away the
+impression of anything you've said wrong. Do you see, darling? Dear
+Romer!"
+
+She went out of the room like a sunbeam in a hurry.
+
+Romer followed her with a wondering expression. To him her movements,
+her hair, her eyes seemed to suggest some fascinating language he had
+not yet learnt. She seemed to him almost a magic creature.
+
+As usual, he showed his sensations simply by obeying. He went to say
+good-bye to his mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+VALENTIA'S VISIT
+
+
+Romer's mother, looking intensely cross--it was her form of deep
+thought--was re-embroidering, with extra little stitches, and
+unnecessary little French knots, and elaborate little buttonholes that
+would never see a button, a large and fine piece of embroidery on which
+she had been working for many months. She had that decadent love of
+minute finish in the unessential so often seen in persons of a nervous
+yet persistent temperament.
+
+She was expecting her daughter-in-law. Romer had said, "Val will look in
+this afternoon."
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+Valentia arrived, delightfully dressed, and, to the casual observer,
+looking just as usual, but in her costume there was just that nuance of
+difference--what was it?--extra sobriety, a more subdued look--some
+trifle that she had worn last year to suggest to the seeing eye a hint
+of praiseworthy economy?--at any rate, a shade that other young married
+women would recognise at once as the right note when calling on one's
+mother-in-law.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn greeted her with real pleasure, and with far more warmth
+than she ever showed to her son (her affection for him being authentic).
+The sight of Valentia, however, always genuinely raised her spirits. She
+was fascinated by her, and had an obscure desire to gain Valentia's
+liking, and even admiration--by force, if necessary! At the same time
+she felt jealousy, disapproval, an odd pride in the girl's charming
+appearance, and a venomous desire to give her slight pain.
+
+"Romer has been here, I see--I mean, I guess he has by the cigarette.
+He's the only person who's allowed to smoke here. Yes, Mrs. Wyburn,
+we're off on Wednesday. Won't you miss us awfully? But I shall be very
+glad to go. I've really had enough of the season." Val spoke with a
+shade of weariness.
+
+"No wonder! I suppose you've hardly had one quiet evening at home the
+last three weeks?"
+
+"Very likely not one. Even when we're quite alone Harry comes round, and
+often his American friend too."
+
+This was a challenge.
+
+Valentia was sitting opposite the light, dressed in blue, in a black
+hat of moderate size, looking straight at the elder lady with a smile,
+and stirring her cup of tea.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn admired her pluck and the fit of her dress.
+
+"Yes, exactly--just what I should have thought. You know what a horror I
+have of displaying anything in the shape or form of _interference_, dear
+Valentia. But, since you've mentioned it yourself, may I just say,
+doesn't it seem almost a pity that you should never be alone with your
+husband?"
+
+Valentia began to laugh.
+
+"Oh, really, Mrs. Wyburn, why do you assume that? But of course we're
+longing for a quiet time. That is why we're going away so early. What
+_delicious_ China tea! Yours is the only house where one gets it quite
+like this."
+
+She put down her cup, which was more than half full, with a slight sigh.
+
+"Romer hates China tea too," said Mrs. Wyburn. "It would be really
+better for your nerves if you'd drink it, my dear."
+
+"And when do you go to Bournemouth?"
+
+"The first week in August. So I shall be able to come down one day--as
+Romer asked me--before I go, and just have a peep at what you're all
+doing at the Green Gate."
+
+She smiled with grotesque playfulness.
+
+"Oh, that will be nice," said Valentia. "It must be looking lovely now.
+Did Romer say anything else of any importance?"
+
+"He never says much, as you know, important or not! He's very like his
+poor father, who really used to sit opposite to me for hours at a time
+without opening his lips."
+
+"A strong, silent man," murmured Val sympathetically. "I know so well
+what you mean."
+
+"Indeed you don't," snapped Mrs. Wyburn. "He was the weakest
+creature--_morally_, I mean, poor dear--that ever breathed. He was a
+very tall, fine man, but yet any pretty woman could turn him round her
+little finger! It was his most marked characteristic."
+
+"Fancy! Devoted to you, of course. Romer's often told me."
+
+"I'm sure he hasn't. What can Romer know of my domestic troubles, as he
+was just four when he lost his poor father? But however that may be, I
+do hope, Valentia, you will wear warm, _sensible_ clothes for the
+garden. I never quite like the idea of your sitting out on that little
+terrace late in the evening with practically nothing on your shoulders.
+People should be so careful of the night air."
+
+"How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Wyburn! But I have a wrap--I never sit out
+without a wrap."
+
+"Pink chiffon, I suppose?"
+
+"Now how did you know? You seem to have second sight!"
+
+"Yes; I guessed as much. Very candidly, dear Valentia, I don't approve
+of pink chiffon. But we women of an elder generation are never listened
+to, though our advice is worth hearing, I can tell you."
+
+"Oh no, Mrs. Wyburn, don't say that. What would you advise instead
+then--a red crochet woollen shawl? I'll get one, of course. How lovely
+that embroidery is getting that you're doing! I remember last February
+thinking that it was as beautiful as it could be, and now it is more
+wonderful still. Let me look."
+
+She bent down her pretty head to admire it.
+
+"Is it my fancy, or the light, or hasn't your hair grown a little
+brighter in colour lately, Valentia dear?"
+
+"Oh, do you really think so? I'm so glad. I was afraid it was just the
+same--just as it was in Harry's portrait of me, you know."
+
+"It does look very like the portrait. But, very frankly--you won't mind
+my saying so?--I think that if it were not quite so fair it would be an
+improvement."
+
+"Oh, naughty Mrs. Wyburn! Fancy your wanting me to touch up my
+hair--make it dark at the roots, I suppose, as so many people seem to
+do! Oh! I wouldn't! What would Romer say? He likes it like this."
+
+Before the elder lady had quite recovered from the blow, Valentia went
+on carelessly--
+
+"Daphne sent her love to you. She mayn't have time to come and see you
+before we leave."
+
+"Has she been going to any more fancy balls as Rosalind?" asked Mrs.
+Wyburn sarcastically.
+
+"No, oh no. There haven't been any more."
+
+"I heard a report--oh, only a report--that Mr. Van Buren is a great
+admirer of your sister's; indeed, it was even said that they were going
+to be engaged."
+
+This was really a sore subject to Valentia. Her temper began to waver
+slightly. It had been a very pet scheme of hers, and only Daphne herself
+had defeated it by refusing the millionaire. But of course she knew
+better than to tell Mrs. Wyburn that.
+
+"Oh yes, you heard that. I believe he does admire her very much. But I
+hope I'm not going to lose Daphne yet."
+
+Something in her expression warned Mrs. Wyburn, who said
+affectionately--
+
+"Well, there's plenty of time; she's _so_ young. I don't believe in
+girls marrying till they're sensible women and know something of
+housekeeping, and are fitted to deal with their servants."
+
+"I hope you haven't been having any more trouble with yours lately?"
+
+"Indeed I have! I had just sent for the housemaid to give her notice
+because she never dusts the lustres properly, when she turned round and
+gave it--notice, I mean--to _me_!"
+
+"What a blessing! It saved you the trouble."
+
+"On the contrary, if you knew anything of domestics, Valentia, you would
+see that it put me in a most awkward position--most awkward; and now I
+shall have to live at Mrs. Hunt's!"
+
+"To live at Mrs. Hunt's?" repeated Val, as if stupefied. "Why, you're
+not going to leave your charming house? And who is Mrs. Hunt?--an old
+friend of yours?"
+
+"Don't you really know who Mrs. Hunt is, Valentia?" Mrs. Wyburn's voice
+trembled.
+
+"No; I haven't the faintest idea."
+
+"She's a Registry Off----Well, may you never know! Certainly I'm not
+going to leave my house. The idea of such a thing!"
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ glad," said Val, getting up. "I'm afraid I must leave it,
+though. I have so many little things to do before I go. Now, Mrs.
+Wyburn, take great care of yourself, and I do _hope_ you'll get a nice
+housemaid quite soon. That sort of thing is so worrying, isn't it?"
+
+Mrs. Wyburn accompanied her to the door, and as usual stood on the
+landing with her, complaining of various troubles, and finally parted
+with caressing words and advice about going for country clothes to "a
+little dressmaker--quite near here--who runs up one's blouses and
+skirts."
+
+"Does she? Fancy! She must be small! Good-bye!"...
+
+... "What a woman!" murmured Val as she got into the carriage.
+
+"What a wife for Romer!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn as the door shut.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A SUGGESTION
+
+
+Miss Luscombe, humming a tune, was wandering round her drawing-room,
+arranging it. She always hummed a little tune when she was alone, if
+possible some quaint old French air. Not that she was really alone now;
+only her invisible mother was with her. To do her justice, Flora took as
+much trouble to impress this almost imperceptible audience as if she
+represented a large crowd.
+
+"There!" she said. She dusted a little blue vase and put it further
+back. "Now you're nice and tidy. No, you go back there, you ugly thing!"
+pouting at a photograph, "you're not wanted to-day! Come out more in the
+light, Lady Charles! We want you to be seen. _That's_ better!"
+
+From the depths of an arm-chair, where she was hidden, Mrs. Luscombe,
+who was watching her with intense irritation, said sharply--
+
+"Who do you expect to-day?"
+
+"Oh! how you startled me, Mummy! I didn't know you were there.... Isn't
+it funny, when you wear that dark red dress, _just_ the colour of the
+armchair, one doesn't see you?"
+
+She went on humming in the low, sweet voice, "_La violette double,
+double--la violette double-ra-ra._"
+
+"Pray stop that, Flora. My nerves won't bear it. Who did you say you
+expect?"
+
+"Mr. Rathbone, darling, if you _must_ know. Mr. John Ryland Rathbone, to
+be exact. You know he's one of the Catford Rathbones, don't you, Mummy?"
+
+"What's a Catford Rathbone?"
+
+"Dear mamma!" she laughed. "It's quite a good old family. One of the
+untitled aristocracy."
+
+"I thought you told me his father was a farmer?"
+
+"No, dear--that's a little mistake. I told you his father had _taken_ to
+farming--as a hobby. Besides, that's just what I mean--a fine old yeoman
+stock--the backbone of the country."
+
+"Why are you praising up this Mr. Backbone--or Rathbone--so much? Is he
+in love with you?"
+
+Flora laughed coquettishly, putting on her Russian Princess manner. It
+was voluble, disdainful, and condescending. She often changed, quite
+suddenly, from an _ingénue_ to a _grande dame_, and then to an
+adventuress and back again before you knew where you were.
+
+"Of course he's in love with me. What of that? Poor boy, he must take
+his chance like the others! '_La violette double, double----_' Oh, I
+forgot, dear. I beg your pardon."
+
+"What's he coming here for?" pursued the relentless mother.
+
+Miss Luscombe now became a soubrette of a somewhat hooligan type, and
+pretended to throw a little feather duster she was holding into the
+depths of the arm-chair.
+
+"That remains to be seen. But I'm a girl who knows how to take care of
+herself. I shall keep him in his place, old dear. Don't you worry."
+
+"I don't."
+
+There was a ring at the door. Flora blushed genuinely, and put some
+powder on. She became sweet and tactful again, and refined, the amiable
+woman of the world. She helped her mother out of the arm-chair, quite
+unnecessarily, but perhaps to hurry her departure.
+
+"You'd better leave us alone now, darling," she said, "and girlie will
+tell you all about it afterwards."
+
+Mrs. Luscombe ran like a hare through a side door.
+
+The servant announced, throwing open the folding doors, "Mr. Rathbone."
+
+In two seconds the feather-duster was behind a screen, and Flora,
+looking really very handsome--she was, as usual in the daytime, in
+semi-evening dress--was reading a little book covered in old vellum, and
+kept for the purpose of her being found reading it. She put it down and
+welcomed her guest charmingly.
+
+Rathbone, looking very fair and pink and rather determined, had brought
+with him a kind of case containing his collection of old theatre
+programmes, so that he gave the impression of being a diplomat of high
+importance with a portfolio.
+
+She helped him prettily to show her the programmes, and was pleased to
+see that there was something else on his mind.
+
+She gave him a cigarette and they had tea. He told her the ancient story
+of his writing to Cissie Loftus, and how he had never received an
+answer. She welcomed the anecdote as though it combined the brilliance
+of a jewel with the freshness of a daisy.
+
+Then he spoke in a somewhat thick voice and with that rather gruff
+manner that she associated with sincerity.
+
+"Miss Luscombe, I ..."--he sighed deeply. "To tell you the truth,
+there's something--for a long time I've wanted to ask you."
+
+He fixed on her intently his blue eyes, in which there was an ardent
+glare.
+
+"Really, Mr. Rathbone? What can I do for you?"
+
+"A great deal. The question is, what would you do for me?"
+
+"Oh, that depends," she said, smiling, looking down, and enjoying
+herself.
+
+"Not to put too fine a point upon it, Miss Luscombe----"; he stopped
+nervously.
+
+"Miss Luscombe sounds so formal," she murmured.
+
+"You wouldn't allow me to call you Flora, would you?"
+
+He smiled, but she thought he looked disappointed. Perhaps he was a man
+who needed difficulties--opposition.
+
+"Well ... I ... it depends," she said.
+
+"Look here, Flora, you're a very charming woman. I have a great
+admiration for you. What is more, I believe you to be a thoroughly
+good----" he hesitated again; was he going to say 'woman,'
+'actress?'--he decided on 'sort.'
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Now I'll reveal to you the dream of my life, which I wouldn't tell to
+anybody else."
+
+"I wonder if I can guess it?" she said, wishing he would hurry up. Lady
+Charles was coming at half-past five to get the address of that fur
+place Flora knew of, where you got things practically for nothing--and
+they were worth it, too.
+
+"I know I'm not so very young," continued the young man.
+
+"Why, you're only about thirty-four, aren't you? I call that young."
+
+"Do you--do you really? Now I was afraid I was getting rather too old to
+begin, as it were, a fresh life. Well now"--he came a little nearer and
+touched her hand, which lay on the table; it was a pretty hand, thin and
+bony, with pink polished nails and a garnet ring--"will you do it for
+me? will you help me? will you not think me foolish--too daring--too
+sanguine?..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes. I see you've guessed. Yes. I want to go on the stage."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MISS WALMER
+
+
+"And so you see, don't you, Lady Walmer, that I really simply couldn't
+do it--I mean I must do it. They're expecting me there for the whole
+summer. How could I throw them over at the last minute?"
+
+Harry spoke in his most convincing voice. He was calling on Lady Walmer,
+and they were both sitting in her little yellow boudoir. She had just
+come in from a bazaar, and was wearing a rather angry-looking hat, very
+much turned up on one side, with enormous purple feathers. She was
+looking very far from pleased. Her handsome chin appeared squarer than
+usual. There was a look in her eyes that more than one man besides Harry
+would have been by no means anxious to meet.
+
+She drew off her gloves, stroked one over the other thoughtfully, and
+said--
+
+"Why did you promise to come on the yacht? The whole summer's spoilt for
+Alec."
+
+"I hoped I could--I thought I could manage it. Surely you
+understand----"
+
+"But it's got to come to that sooner or later, Harry. You can't make an
+omelette without breaking eggs. If you want to be a respectable, dull
+married man, you'll have to dissolve your romance, you know. I should
+have thought you were the last person to be weak about anybody else's
+feelings!--No, it's your own, my dear boy."
+
+Harry's colour rose a little.
+
+"My dear Lady Walmer! I'm going to tell--my cousin Valentia--all about
+it--I mean about my hopes. I'm certain that she will be charming about
+it--only too glad, for my sake."
+
+"Oh! And yet I thought she was human! Or--is there some one else?"
+
+"Certainly there's some one else--there's Romer. She's very devoted to
+him."
+
+"Harry, my boy, we should get on so very much better if you wouldn't
+tell so many unnecessary fibs," remarked the lady.
+
+She stood up and drew the hatpins out of her hat.
+
+He said, "I'm quite frank with you. I don't think I've been anything
+else. And, after all, I only ask to do it in my own way--at my own time.
+To choose my moment. Really, one can't behave like an _impossible_
+bounder."
+
+"Oh, can't one? Well, perhaps not."
+
+She took the hat off and put it on a table, giving the impression
+suddenly, without it, of being smooth, a little bald, and very
+good-tempered.
+
+"Then you'll forgive me, Lady Walmer--you'll understand? I should think
+that in about three or four weeks I shall be able to join you somewhere.
+But, about fixing the date--that's impossible. Can't I see Alec to-day?"
+
+She smiled graciously.
+
+"Certainly you may; I want you to. You must cheer her up and say nice
+things to her. Poor child, I wish she weren't so ridiculously pleased
+with you. You don't care two straws for her."
+
+"I give you my word of honour that I will make her happy."
+
+"I suppose you'll make her as happy as any one would. It's always
+something to get one's wish, even if the wish is a failure."
+
+"Now, why do you say that? It won't be a failure."
+
+"All right. I'll send her to you. Now be a good boy, Harry. I'm
+jealous--for Alec--of the Green Gate." She smiled in her attractive way.
+"Will there be an absolute rupture between you and your ... cousins, do
+you think?"
+
+"Oh, good heavens, Lady Walmer, no!" said Harry rather irritably. "We
+shall all be perfect friends, of course ... what impossible things you
+expect."
+
+"I expect only what is certain."
+
+She went away.
+
+Vanity was as elemental in Harry as in any other good-looking young man.
+With him, though, it was not a mere useless pursuit--an
+art-for-art's-sake joy--but invariably calculated and used as a means to
+an end.
+
+He looked in the glass earnestly, then started as Alec came in.
+
+He was always surprised and even a little _gêné_ each time he saw her,
+by her immense apparent height. It seemed so much greater than it was
+because of the somewhat monotonous lines of her figure and her rather
+bird-like face.
+
+Harry watched her, listened to her as she chattered away her hurried,
+inexpressive unmeaning slang, and looked at him with her bright, small,
+beadlike eyes.
+
+He did not appreciate her. He did not know that behind the jerky manner
+and inexpressive face there was a Soul.
+
+She had not been trained to talk sentiment, and she could not express
+her ideas; so, though she adored Harry, she only said to her mother in
+confidence, when in a serious mood, that he was all right; and when in a
+more playful frame of mind to her girl-friends, that he was a little
+_bit_ of all right.
+
+"Alec," he said, making her sit down in the lowest chair (he could not
+bear her towering over him), "isn't it a bore that I can't come on the
+yacht?"
+
+"Pretty useless," she answered.
+
+He took her hand.
+
+"You won't forget me while I'm away, will you, Alec?"
+
+"What do _you_ think?" she answered in a trembling voice, and then gave
+a loud laugh.
+
+"I don't think--I don't know."
+
+"Oh, shut up!"
+
+"Will you be just as nice when I see you again?" continued Harry, in a
+carefully-modulated voice.
+
+"Why do you ask me all this rot?" she said, with another uneasy laugh.
+"Of course I shall."
+
+"Good."
+
+Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. Then he remembered....
+
+"When I join you again I'm going to bring you a ring. What's your
+favourite stone?"
+
+"Rubies and diamonds," she answered without a moment's hesitation. "I
+say, how sporting of you! That'll be ripping!"
+
+He tried to feel touched by her artless joy. He knew he was not an
+ideally ardent suitor.
+
+"Well, we'll have a good time later on, eh?" he said in her own tone.
+
+"Don't be a silly ass!" replied the girl, her eyes full of tears and
+tenderness, and her heart of the most sincere joy and affection.
+
+Harry laughed.
+
+"Tell me, Alec, is your mother a soothing companion? Is she a nice woman
+to live with?"
+
+"Oh! _she's_ all right. A bit off colour sometimes. At least--well, she
+_is_ all right, if you understand--and yet she's _not_--if you know what
+I mean."
+
+"Ah! that is a dark saying. You are pleased to be
+mysterious--sphinx-like."
+
+"You _are_ a rotter, Harry!"
+
+"How subtle you are, Alec. How elusive is the lightning-play of your
+wit!"
+
+"_How_ much?"
+
+"The random poppy of paradox grows too often in the golden cornfield of
+your conversation," Harry went on, taking her hand.
+
+"Oh, rats!" exclaimed the artless girl. "Can't make out what you're
+driving at half the time, when you go on like that. Don't believe you
+know yourself."
+
+"Don't I? Really now, you know, we're almost--well--privately engaged.
+May I kiss you, Alec?"
+
+She blushed crimson, turned her face away, and said, "Please yourself."
+
+Unable to help laughing, he kissed the top of her head, told her to
+write to him, and left the house, feeling like an entirely new and
+recently-discovered kind of bounder.
+
+He hated the double game. It didn't amuse him a bit. But now he felt he
+was free for a month's holiday, during which he had, however, the
+unpleasant holiday task of breaking the news to Valentia.
+
+He was driving home, but changed his mind and called out to the cabman
+to drive to Valentia's house.
+
+He found her trying on furs--furs in mid-summer!
+
+She greeted the arrival of his exquisite discrimination and taste with
+clapped hands, soft, beaming eyes, and her smile--Valentia's smile. Miss
+Walmer couldn't smile at all--she didn't know how. She could only
+laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MRS. FOSTER
+
+
+Daphne had come to say good-bye to Mrs. Foster.
+
+This lady lived in a kind of model cottage in a garden in Ham Common. It
+was not at all like the ideal, 'quaint' model cottages that one sees
+advertised by well-known firms of furnishers, though it might have been.
+Mrs. Foster was rebellious to Waring, and sincerely disliked anything
+modern.
+
+The little drawing-room, and indeed every other room in the house, was
+principally furnished by photographs and groups of her son Cyril--Cyril
+as a very plain boy, in a skirt, with hardly any eyes or hair, and a
+pout; Cyril as a 'perfect pet' of a sailor, at six. Then Cyril in
+cricketing groups (how he stood out against the other ordinary
+boys!)--in Etons (looking neat and supercilious), and then in his
+uniform, in which he looked simply lovely.
+
+Daphne had an intense and growing desire to please his mother. In fact,
+curiously, she was more anxious to gain her approbation than that of
+Cyril himself. To this end she usually remade her hats, when possible,
+in the train on her way to Ham Common, and her pocket when she arrived
+there was usually filled with artificial flowers, feathers, or other
+ornaments that she had taken off her hat, so as to look simple. Also she
+turned it down all the way round to make it look as if it were merely a
+protection from the sun--not a hat.
+
+To-day she wore a pink-spotted muslin dress and a straw hat, with pink
+ribbon. She certainly looked extremely pretty, and not at all what she
+had such a dread of before Mrs. Foster, smart. Mrs. Foster had a horror
+of smartness in the _jeune fille_.
+
+Daphne delighted her. She was a very sentimental woman, with a strong
+theoretical bias for the practical. She was by way of teaching Daphne
+housekeeping and how to manage on a small income (of which art she knew
+very little herself, but was supposed to know a great deal because she
+wore a kind of cap). She had a pretty, delicate, kind face, and was
+wearing large wash-leather gloves, in case she should wish to do a
+little gardening later on.
+
+Daphne had still much of the child in her, and there was nothing she
+enjoyed quite so much as gardening with Mrs. Foster, and occasionally
+stopping to eat a gingerbread-nut, and hear something about Cyril and
+the brilliant remarks he had made as a child.
+
+Mrs. Foster had a chiffonnier of a kind Daphne had never seen before,
+which fascinated her because such queer delightful things came out of it
+in the middle of the morning--slices of seed cake, apples, and the
+gingerbread-nuts. There were pink shavings in the fireplace, and
+wherever there was not a photograph of Cyril there was one of the Prince
+Imperial. Evidently he had been the passion of Mrs. Foster's earlier
+life. She loved to tell the story of how she had seen him at
+Chislehurst, and how she thought he had looked at her.
+
+There were other nice things in the cottage: there were two rather large
+vases of pink china on which were reproduced photographs of Cyril's
+great-uncle and great-aunt--one in whiskers, the other in parted but
+raised hair with an Alexandra curl on the left shoulder. In these vases
+folded slips of paper called spills were kept. A modern note was struck
+by the presence of a baby Grand--a jolly, clumsy, disproportioned
+youthful piano, rather like a colt, on which Daphne played Chopin to
+Mrs. Foster, and sometimes The Chocolate Soldier to Cyril; and Mrs.
+Foster, at twilight, sometimes played and even sang, "_I cannot sing
+the old songs, they are too dear to me,_" which her mother used to sing,
+or, coming a little nearer to the present, "_Ask nothing more, nothing
+more, all I can give thee, I give,_" a passionate song of the early
+eighties.
+
+No one, except Daphne, ever did ask any more.
+
+The whole thing was, to Daphne, a treat. Something in the atmosphere of
+Ladysmith Cottage--that was its name--fascinated and amused her.
+
+Mrs. Foster was a widow. Her husband had been a distinguished soldier.
+Almost the whole of her extremely small income had been devoted to
+Cyril's education, and with the assistance of an uncle who took interest
+in him, he had been got into the Guards, where he existed happily with a
+comparatively small allowance.
+
+Mrs. Foster had not been at all surprised or annoyed at his wishing to
+marry at twenty-two. She thought it extremely natural. It seemed to her
+very sensible of Daphne to accept him, and that she was the most
+fortunate girl in existence.
+
+"I hope your sister doesn't mind my taking you away from the gay,
+fashionable world for a day?" she archly asked.
+
+"Oh no, of course not. We're going in the country next week, so I wanted
+to see you."
+
+"Cyril's at Aldershot. I don't think he'll be able to come down this
+afternoon. He can't get away this week, I'm afraid."
+
+"I shall see him before I go," said Daphne.
+
+"Do you have a letter from him every day, darling?"
+
+"Oh yes, a few lines."
+
+"He is a noble boy!" said Mrs. Foster enthusiastically. "How he always
+hated writing letters! I remember how I guided his little hand to write
+his first letter to his uncle, General Rayner. Just as we got to the end
+of the letter Cyril suddenly jumped up and threw over the table. The
+letter was simply drenched in ink. Dear boy! I've got it still.... Oh,
+you must come into the garden, Daphne. I've something new to show you. A
+friend of mine has just let her house. She didn't know what to do with
+her dovecot--nobody wanted it--so she's given it to me. Come and see the
+dear little creatures--they are so pretty."
+
+They went out into the garden and stood looking at a sort of depressed
+pigeon-house.
+
+Mrs. Foster made strange noises, which she thought suitable to attract
+the inmates, and Daphne saw two doves who struck her as if they had
+married in haste and were repenting at leisure.
+
+"Why don't you let them go free?" suggested the girl. "Just think how
+happy and delighted they'd be."
+
+"I doubt it. I don't think they'd know what to do with their freedom.
+They're not used to my garden yet, that's what's the matter. I do wish
+they would coo; perhaps they will a little later on." (This was a
+favourite expression of Mrs. Foster's.) "I want to see one perched on
+your shoulder, Daphne. It would make such a pretty picture."
+
+"I'd rather give them something to eat," said Daphne.
+
+Mrs. Foster started.
+
+"Oh yes, of course. I fed them all yesterday afternoon, but I forgot
+about them this morning. Henry! Henry!"
+
+The smallest boy appeared that had ever been called by that name.
+
+"Henry, feed the doves."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then bring the watering-can. We're going to water the flowers."
+
+Henry, who seemed of a morose nature, went to obey.
+
+"I'm obliged to have a boy for the knives, and he acts as a gardener
+when I'm busy," explained Mrs. Foster. "There isn't much of a kitchen
+garden, only a few gooseberries and apples, as you know, dear, but it's
+nice to think they grow there, isn't it?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Of course, I can't make much show with them. Henry always eats them
+before they're ripe, which is _rather_ hard. But he's a good, honest
+boy. One of his sisters has gone in for making blouses--in the village,
+you know. She's a brave girl, and I feel sure will get on."
+
+"She must be! Have you ever ...?"
+
+"Oh _no_. Of course not. _I_ couldn't. When a woman reaches a certain
+age, my dear, a certain style is necessary. I don't mean great expense,
+but simple little things that would suit you, darling, wouldn't do for
+me. Now that little pink thing that you're wearing--I should look
+_nothing_ in it, and yet I dare say Henry's sister.... Where did you get
+it, dear?"
+
+"Well, it _came_ from Paquin's," said Daphne. "It's not new."
+
+"Oh! Well, we mustn't be always talking of chiffons together, that's
+very frivolous. You're fond of poetry, aren't you?"
+
+"Not so very," said Daphne truthfully.
+
+"But you would like to hear mine; I know you would, dear," said Mrs.
+Foster, nodding, and patting her hand. "Dear girl, you shall. I've got a
+tiny little volume, all in manuscript. It's quite a secret, darling.
+Hardly any one--now--knows that I was poetical. But I can tell you
+anything--you're so sympathetic. I had at one time a great wish to be a
+sort of--not exactly Elizabeth Barrett Browning, or Christina
+Rossetti--you know who I mean, don't you?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"But a singer of songs--songs of feeling. Well, let us go into the
+garden. I will show it to you later."
+
+They sprinkled a few dead flowers, picked a few weeds, and then Mrs.
+Foster became thoughtful, took off her gloves, and went to her room and
+remained there for some time. She came down with a manuscript book in
+her hand. It had a shiny cover, and in the right-hand corner a piece of
+the cover was cut out. On the paper, showing through, was written in
+Mrs. Foster's delicate handwriting, "Fireflies of Fancy."
+
+"This," she said, patting it, "is my little book, and after lunch I'll
+read you some of the poems, dear Daphne, though I'm not at all sure that
+all of them are quite suitable for you to hear."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Foster!" Daphne found difficulty in believing it.
+
+"You see," continued the delicate-looking old lady, in her sweet,
+refined voice, "I was very much under the influence of the Passionate
+School--Swinburne, Rossetti, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and so on--at the time
+that I wrote. My husband never wished me to publish them. He didn't like
+them--he didn't understand them. I don't mind admitting to you, dear,
+that since I lost him I have sent one or two of the less--well--shall we
+say strongly coloured?--poems to the magazines at times, of course under
+a _nom de plume_. But they were all returned. I think they were
+considered too--well, too----However, I've given up the idea of making
+a name as a poetess now, and very rarely show them to anybody; _very_
+rarely."
+
+Daphne answered, with absolute sincerity, that she was dying to see
+them.
+
+After lunch, when they retired to the little drawing-room, Mrs. Foster
+sat down with her back to the light, and a slight flush on her cheek,
+and took up the book.
+
+Daphne sat in a low little crimson arm-chair exactly opposite her,
+clasping her knees, her brown eyes fixed with the greatest interest as
+Mrs. Foster turned and turned the pages as if unable to select a
+suitable verse.
+
+Then she began to read, in her soft, yet rather high voice, which seemed
+suited only to gentle greetings and adieux, or quavering orders to
+Henry.
+
+    "NIGHT TIME
+
+    _He glanced as he passed,
+    And I hope, and I quiver,
+    I howl and I shudder with pains;
+    And like a she-tiger
+    Or overcharged river,
+    My blood rushes on through my veins._"
+
+She stopped suddenly.
+
+"No, no, dear. I won't read this. Wait a minute. I remember now that was
+the one that was returned because it was too--er----I'll find you
+another one."
+
+"Oh, do finish that one," said Daphne, "please! Isn't the light too much
+for your eyes?"
+
+She jumped up quickly and pulled down the blind an inch or two, and then
+came back, having controlled herself.
+
+Mrs. Foster looked at her rather sharply, and took no notice of what she
+supposed was emotion.
+
+"Ah, here is something more suited to you, darling."
+
+    SPRING
+
+    A QUESTION, AND AN ANSWER
+
+    _Will all the year be summer-time,
+    And each night have a moon?
+    Ah no, the Spring will quickly go,
+    And winter cometh soon._
+
+    _And will your clasp warm mine like wine?
+    And will you love me true?
+    Ah no, the autumn leaves arrive,
+    And we must bid adieu._
+
+"That's a rather pretty thing, in its way, isn't it?" she said.
+
+"Very."
+
+"Here's one more.
+
+    A REMEMBRANCE
+
+    _Seems it well to see
+    A wild honey bee
+    Gold in the sun,
+    Ere day is done,
+    Sitting on a rose,
+    As the summer time grows._
+
+    _Ah, the bold, brave days,
+    Ere the glass of Time
+    'Neath the sun's rays,
+    Like a flame of fire,--
+    And the_ ..."
+
+She stopped again.
+
+"No, I don't think this is quite----"
+
+"Do, do go on!"
+
+Mrs. Foster looked at her.
+
+"You have a great deal of sensibility, Daphne. I believe you have tears
+in your eyes."
+
+"No, I haven't really." She turned away her head, nearly choking.
+
+A loud knock was heard at the front door.
+
+Mrs. Foster looked out of the window.
+
+"It's Cyril!" she exclaimed. "He's got away after all. Quick! Quick!"
+She threw the book under a cushion and sat on it. With trembling
+fingers she took up some needlework out of a basket.
+
+"Not a word--not a word! Go and meet him in the hall, dear. He's come to
+give us a surprise. I'll wait."
+
+Blushing and laughing Daphne ran downstairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ENGAGED
+
+
+Daphne and Cyril sat in the garden together. The conditions seemed
+ideal. It was a lovely afternoon; the sun was hot, but a gay
+irresponsible little west wind stirred the trees; bees hummed
+industriously, butterflies darted casually about among the few flowers,
+and even the reticent doves cooed from time to time, condescendingly.
+Peeping through the blind Mrs. Foster thought the two young people made
+a perfect picture, and was reminded of the Golden Age. Indeed, they had
+very much the charming, almost improbable air of the figures in a Summer
+Number of an illustrated paper. Perhaps the conditions were too perfect:
+the lovers had, of course, nothing to sit on but a rustic seat--Mrs.
+Foster would have thought it a crime to have anything else in a garden,
+and rustic seats are, no doubt, picturesque, but they are very
+uncomfortable; they seem to consist of nothing but points and knobs,
+gnarls and corners.
+
+When Daphne was alone with Cyril like this she felt contented and
+peaceful at first, and then she began to wonder why she wasn't happier
+still--why she didn't feel ecstatic. She was proud of Cyril; he looked
+very handsome in flannels, his regular features, smooth fair hair, small
+head and small feet all added to his resemblance to the hero in the
+holiday number.
+
+Cyril said--
+
+"Dear little girl!" and took her hand.
+
+She laughed and answered--
+
+"Dear old boy!"
+
+Then he said--
+
+"By Jove! you do look ripping, Daphne."
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Jolly being here like this, isn't it?" said Cyril.
+
+"Isn't it?" she answered.
+
+"Jolly day, too."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Wasn't it lucky I was able to get away?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"It was a fearful rush."
+
+"It must have been."
+
+"Jove, it is hot!"
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Darling!"
+
+"Dear boy!"
+
+"May I smoke a cigarette, dear?"
+
+"Yes, do."
+
+He lit a cigarette, and then put his arm round her waist.
+
+"Don't, Cyril."
+
+"Why not?" he asked, removing it.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Henry or some one might see."
+
+"What's Henry?"
+
+"A sort of gardener boy--the boy whose sort of sister makes kind of
+blouses in the village."
+
+"Oh, does he matter?"
+
+Cyril was wondering if he could ask for a drink.
+
+When they were left entirely alone, on purpose to be free, he always
+felt rather shy and awkward, and intensely thirsty.
+
+Daphne began to think about what time it was, and about her train
+back--subjects that never occurred to her when she was alone with Mrs.
+Foster.
+
+"I'm afraid I shall soon have to be going," she said.
+
+"Oh, I say! What, the moment I've arrived?"
+
+He tried not to feel a little relieved. He wondered why he hadn't more
+to say to her. He had been desperate to get consent to their engagement,
+and was always extremely anxious and counting the minutes till they met,
+and when they were together, alone after much elaborate scheming, he
+felt a little embarrassed, and, like his fiancée, was surprised he
+wasn't happier.
+
+"I say, Daphne!"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"You do look sweet."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"Simply ripping! I say!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Won't it be jolly when we're married?"
+
+"Yes; lovely."
+
+"It will be all the time just like this, you see--only nicer ... I say!
+Isn't it hot?"
+
+They sat holding hands, he looking at her admiringly, she feeling mildly
+pleased that such a dear, handsome boy should be so fond of her. In the
+minds of both was another sensation, which they did not recognise, or,
+at all events, would not admit to themselves. They both, especially
+Cyril, counted the minutes to these _tête-à-têtes_, and immediately
+afterwards looked back on them with regret, feeling they had missed
+something. They wrote to each other frequent, short, but intensely
+affectionate letters about the happiness these interviews had given
+them. Yet, while they actually lasted, both Cyril and Daphne, had they
+only known it, were really rather bored. The next day, or the same
+evening, Cyril would write to her:--
+
+"My own Darling,--How jolly it was having you a little to myself
+to-day! And to think that you really care for me!" and so on.
+
+And she would enjoy writing back:--
+
+"Dearest,--Didn't we have a heavenly time in the garden yesterday?" and
+so forth.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+As a matter of fact, they had not had a heavenly time at all; when he
+kissed her, which he sometimes did, she did not really like it, though
+she knew she ought, and it gave her a sort of mental gratification to
+think that he _had_ given this manifestation of love, as she knew it was
+considered the right thing.
+
+He did not really regard her as a woman at all, but more as a lovely
+doll, or sweet companion, and it pleased his vanity immensely to think
+he should be allowed this privilege, which at the same time seemed to
+him a little unnecessary, and even derogatory to her, though he enjoyed
+it very much too, in a somewhat uncomfortable way.
+
+The fact that their engagement was so indefinite, that they had hardly
+any hope of being married for at least two years, perhaps added a little
+to the _gêne_ of these meetings. The instant they were separated he
+began to long to see her alone again. Daphne felt sure she must be
+really in love because she took comparatively little interest in
+anything that was not more or less connected with the idea of Cyril.
+Perhaps she enjoyed the things she associated with him more than his
+actual presence. Talking about him to Valentia, or hearing about him
+from his mother, seemed more amusing and exciting than sitting with him
+alone and holding his hand. She would have liked best never to see him
+except in evening dress at a party, only to hear about him or think
+about him all day.
+
+Cyril was sure that his feeling was real love, because he did not care
+two straws how hard up they should be when they were married, and
+because if he heard any one sing a sentimental song, however badly, he
+immediately thought of her with the greatest tenderness. He believed he
+missed her every moment of the day, and he took great trouble to see
+her, especially when there was a chance of their being alone. But, as a
+matter of fact, he was rather glad when Mrs. Foster came out into the
+garden; and when he had seen Daphne off at the station, although it was
+a pang to see her go away without him, it was perhaps also a slight
+relief.
+
+When Val came to meet her at the station, full of news about the
+extraordinary number of exciting things that had happened in the day,
+and they dashed back to dress for a dinner Harry was giving before going
+to a dance, Daphne felt a tinge of sentiment and regret for the idyllic
+happiness in the garden, and began to count the hours until they should
+meet alone again. The glamour always returned an hour or so after they
+had been separated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT THE CARLTON
+
+
+With characteristic amiability, combined with that courage which had
+caused impatient people, who snubbed her in vain, to say she had the
+hide of a rhinoceros, Miss Luscombe had accepted the blow of Rathbone's
+proposal--the proposal which she had taken for an offer of marriage, but
+which was really an offer to go on the stage. She set to work at once
+making little efforts (most of which she knew to be futile) to arrange
+the matter. After all, if she should succeed in getting him some sort of
+a part, mightn't he, out of gratitude?... And she saw visions. Again, he
+had evidently got it very badly, this mania for acting and dressing up,
+and he had really quite enough money, if he chose to devote it to this
+object only; why shouldn't he take a theatre--make himself the manager
+and _jeune premier_, or, for the matter of that, _vieux dernier_--it
+really didn't matter--and let her be the leading lady? That was if he
+failed in every other scheme. She wrote letters to various people whom
+she knew on the stage, mentioning Rathbone's enormous willingness to
+take _anything_, his gentlemanly appearance, and, she felt sure, really
+_some_ talent, though no experience. Most people took no notice, but
+after a while she received an offer for him to play one of the gentlemen
+in the chorus of _Our Miss Gibbs_ in a second-rate little touring
+company of the smaller northern provincial towns.
+
+It was an excuse for an interview, certainly; but this for a man who
+wished to play Romeo! And if, in his enthusiasm, he should actually
+accept it, it would take him away from her. However, hearing that she
+had some news for him, he, in his delighted gratitude, asked her to tea
+at the Carlton.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+They were seated in the Palm Court eating their tea-cakes and sandwiches
+to the sound of "The Teddy Bear's Picnic," which made one feel cheerful
+and reckless, followed by "Simple Aveu," a thin, sentimental solo on the
+violin that made one feel resigned and melancholy. It was played by a
+man with a three-cornered face and a very bald head, who gazed at the
+ceiling as if in a kind of swoon--a swoon that might have been induced
+either by tender ecstasy or acute boredom.
+
+All around them were noisy Americans, neatly dressed, and a good many
+prim, self-conscious ladies on the stage who had come on from their
+_matinées_ and were accompanied mostly either by very young and rather
+chinless adorers, or by fat, fatuous men with dark moustaches, hair
+inclined to curl, and clothes a shade too gorgeous.
+
+Here and there a simple, provincial-looking family were to be seen who
+had come up for a few days and had been to an afternoon performance, and
+were talking with great animation of the rights and wrongs of the hero
+and heroine of the play. It was characteristic of the provincials that
+they were really excited about the play itself, hardly knowing who were
+performing, while the suburbanites took interest only in the actors, all
+of whom they knew well by name and reputation, even their private
+life--at least, as much of it as got into the _Prattler_, _The Perfect
+Lady_, and _Home Chirps_.
+
+On the whole it was a very characteristic London crowd, in that it
+consisted almost entirely of desirable aliens. Here and there, indeed,
+one saw a thin, slim, pretty woman with a happy but bothered-looking
+young man, both obviously English, who talked in low tones, and were
+evidently at some stage or other of a rose-coloured romance; but they
+were the exception.
+
+Amidst this noisy and confused clientèle, with its showy clothes and
+obvious feminine charms, Miss Luscombe looked a strange, stray, untidy
+hothouse plant. She was odd and artificial, and dressed like nothing on
+earth, in pale and faded colours; but she was not vulgar. She was rather
+queer and delicate, and intensely amiable. Her self-consciousness made
+no claim on one; she was not exacting--always pleased and good-tempered.
+Rathbone recognised these qualities in her, and liked her better to-day,
+amidst the scent of the tea-cakes and cigarettes and the whine of the
+violin, than he had ever liked her before.
+
+Pink, fair, calm, clean, and really hardly anything else, except
+extremely correct, and always good form, without being too noticeably
+so, no one would have dreamed that this quiet young man, who looked like
+a shy subaltern, was simply dying to disport himself on the stage, and
+that it was the dream of his life to make an utter ass of himself as
+Hamlet, or a hopeless fool of himself as (say) the hero in _Still Waters
+Run Deep_--a play he had seen as a boy and had always longed to act in.
+
+She had broken the news to him.
+
+"Miss Luscombe, do you mean to say that is the very best you can do for
+me?"
+
+She explained the difficulties.
+
+He was only one of so many! Unless the name was known it was
+frightfully difficult--even for geniuses--to get on. Of course, he might
+try, and go and see the various managers himself, but, frankly, probably
+nothing would come of it.
+
+He was deeply depressed. What should she suggest?
+
+"Might I ask if you care very, very much?" she asked.
+
+"You might. I do." Yes. His heart was set on it.
+
+Was it really? Well, if he simply hadn't the strength to go on living
+another day without going on the stage, the only thing, clearly, was
+just to hire a theatre and _go_ on! A _matinée_, perhaps. Why not Romeo?
+
+"And why not Juliet?" said he, rather rashly.
+
+"Oh, that would be lovely!"
+
+Her attention wandered at this moment. A very pretty, fair woman was
+rising from behind a palm where she had been seated with her back to the
+room. She went out rather quickly, followed by a good-looking young man
+with a single eye-glass.
+
+"They have been trying to hide!" she exclaimed. "What a joke! It's that
+sweet Valentia Wyburn and Harry de Freyne. They must have been here when
+we arrived, for we should have seen them come in. I wonder what they
+came for?"
+
+"To have tea, perhaps?" suggested Rathbone, after deep thought,
+shrewdly.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But why hide like that?"
+
+"Perhaps they didn't want to be seen," said Rathbone brilliantly.
+
+"Yes, of course, but why not? I hope it doesn't show...."
+
+"Well, it shows there's nothing in it, or they wouldn't come here."
+
+"Does it?" said Miss Luscombe, rather disappointed.
+
+"Well, where's the harm in being here? Ain't we here?"
+
+"Oh yes, of course; but that's different. They're cousins, too, of
+course; I had forgotten."
+
+"I don't see why you should worry if Romer doesn't," said Rathbone.
+
+Before they left Rathbone had very nearly promised to see about engaging
+a theatre, and either for a charity or as an invitation _matinée_, rope,
+as he expressed it, all his friends in, lock the door, and force them to
+see him play Romeo to Miss Luscombe's Juliet.
+
+Flora was deliriously happy at the idea, but had too much experience to
+rely on it, and was quite prepared to be thrown over for another more
+professional actress, and asked to play one of the ladies at the ball in
+the first act instead, probably in a mask. She went home and read over
+her one good notice--a great treasure--that had appeared in an evening
+paper, and had spoken of her as "_a young actress with a bright and
+winsome personality_." That was in a very small part, ten years ago.
+Would she ever get another real chance?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+AT MISS WESTBURY'S
+
+
+Mrs. Wyburn found Miss Westbury being sensible and decided and holding
+forth about things in general to one or two friends over the tea-cups.
+Something in the way the old lady sat down and unfastened her mantle, so
+as to be sure to feel the benefit of it when she went out again, made
+the other women present feel that they were not wanted, and Miss
+Westbury did not attempt to detain them. For (though she would not have
+put it like that) she knew that she would get more fun out of her
+friend's _méchanceté_ if they were alone. Scandal, gossip made tedious
+by morality, is only really enjoyable _en tête-à-tête_.
+
+"I do so hope, Isabella, that you haven't had any more annoyance about
+the silly things that are being said about your pretty daughter-in-law,"
+remarked Miss Westbury, leaning back with the comfortable amiability of
+a fat woman who expects to be amused.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn looked round the room.
+
+"Curious you never have your ceiling painted," she said. "I've often
+wondered why it is. It looks--you'll forgive me for saying so, Millie,
+won't you?--as if you left it in its present state from motives of, may
+I say, economy? But, of course, I know it isn't that--I always say, it's
+simply that you haven't noticed it. Thanks, no--no tea."
+
+Miss Westbury's serenity was slightly disturbed, as her friend intended.
+
+"I certainly don't spend my whole time lying on my back looking at the
+ceiling," she answered rather brusquely. "I have far too much to do."
+
+"I never suggested that you should," quickly replied Mrs. Wyburn. "Such
+a thing never occurred to me for a single moment. And please don't think
+I wish to interfere, or to make remarks about anything that doesn't
+concern me. It merely struck me that if, at any time, you thought by
+some curious chance of having the house done up, it might be a pity to
+leave out the ceiling. But that was all. I do assure you, Millie, I
+never dreamt of hurting your feelings."
+
+Miss Westbury laughed with a rather cackling sound--a sound Mrs. Wyburn
+recognised with satisfaction. It showed just the degree of slight
+annoyance she loved to cause in any one to whom she was speaking. Miss
+Westbury, however, waived the question and became hospitable.
+
+"Do let me persuade you to have a toasted bun. Our baker makes them in a
+special way on purpose for me. There's nothing in the world more
+sensible with one's tea than a small toasted currant bun. I was speaking
+to Dr. Gribling about it only the other day, oddly enough, and he quite
+agreed with me."
+
+"Why _only the other day_? and why _oddly enough_, Millie?--I dare say
+you speak to him constantly about it and about other equally urgent
+matters." She spoke with what she meant to be a slight sneer, in reply
+to which Miss Westbury behaved in a manner that is sometimes described
+as bridling up. She gave a movement meant to be a toss of the head and
+placed her lips firmly together.
+
+"I like Dr. Gribling, Isabella, because he's a thoroughly sensible
+man--a man you can say anything to."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn thought that Miss Westbury would say anything to any one,
+and she shrewdly suspected that Millie was probably the one gleam of
+amusement in poor old Dr. Gribling's dreary round. However, she waved
+the eminent physician aside and said--
+
+"About Valentia. She and Romer have gone down to the country, you know."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Quite early to go. Very nice. Have they a large party
+there, do you know? The Green Gate is such a charming place--so
+picturesque."
+
+"Have you ever seen it?" Mrs. Wyburn asked.
+
+"Only in the _Daily Mail_--I mean accounts of week-ends there, and that
+sort of thing. But I believe it's quite charming. It seems almost a pity
+though, doesn't it, at the end of the season to begin the same
+frivolities and gaieties all over again. I wonder they don't take a
+little rest."
+
+"I believe they are resting. Valentia wrote to me that no one was
+staying there at all, except, of course, Daphne."
+
+"And Harry de Freyne?"
+
+"Yes, and Mr. de Freyne."
+
+"Strange," said Miss Westbury comfortably. "Curious that extraordinary
+infatuation of your--son for this young man. But he's a very charming
+man, isn't he? Most agreeable?"
+
+"He's not absolutely unpleasant."
+
+"I suppose he brightens them up--amuses them? Probably he has very high
+spirits. Perhaps he has the _jar de veev_." Miss Westbury had a private
+pronunciation of foreign expressions all her own. "It is unfortunate,
+but do you know one often sees that in unprincipled people, Isabella."
+
+"He knows that he's not quite a gentleman, and is trying to laugh it
+off," said Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"Does he really? Dear, dear--what a sad thing!--and yet he certainly
+_ought_ to be a gentleman, you know. On his mother's side he is
+connected with the----"
+
+"That's not the point," snapped Mrs. Wyburn. "And of course I don't mean
+to say that--outwardly--he's not. His manner and appearance are
+distinguished. It's the soul that's vulgar."
+
+"Ah, I see! You mean you're afraid he isn't one of _nature's_
+gentlemen?"
+
+"Nature? How do you mean? He has nothing to do with nature. He's a man
+about town."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon--I understood he was an artist. And sometimes,
+you know, artists are extremely fond of nature; in fact, far _too_
+fond."
+
+"I believe all that painting is only done to throw dust in people's
+eyes--an excuse for idleness. Candidly, I don't like studios; I don't
+think they're respectable."
+
+"I know what you mean; but still, after all"--Miss Westbury made a
+feeble attempt at a good-natured defence--"after all, if they all like
+it--I mean to say, if they're all so happy, why should we----"
+
+"I doubt if my son is happy."
+
+"Oh, really, really? Do you think he's _ever noticed anything?_ Isn't he
+devoted to Harry de Freyne?"
+
+"Of course he hates him like poison," replied the mother.
+
+Miss Westbury started in delighted horror, and replied sharply, "How do
+you know that? Did he tell you?"
+
+"Tell me! He would never tell me. Besides, he couldn't tell me--he
+doesn't know it."
+
+"And how do you know it?"
+
+"Mothers know everything," she replied.
+
+After a minute's pause, Miss Westbury said--
+
+"But if you feel sure that Romer isn't happy, and that he, almost
+unconsciously perhaps, doesn't really like this young man being always
+about, mightn't it some day end in some trouble--some explosion?"
+
+"It's quite possible."
+
+"Then I wonder what Romer would do?"
+
+"I know what he would do."
+
+"Good heavens, Isabella, you don't mean to say that he would ever bring
+a----"
+
+"It's really strange," said Mrs. Wyburn, "that at your age you should
+still be so silly. Will you never learn to understand anything at all?
+Of course not. He would protect her."
+
+"Can't something be done? Why don't you speak to Valentia?"
+
+"The advice of a relative-in-law in a case of this kind has never yet
+been known to be of any real use, Millie. I can only hope the whole
+thing may gradually wear itself out."
+
+"May it be so, my dear!" echoed Miss Westbury, unctuously.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn got up to go.
+
+Miss Westbury helped her to fasten her mantle.
+
+"I'm so glad you loosened it, or else you might not feel the benefit of
+it when you go out, Isabella," she observed, for she was not one to miss
+an opportunity of making a remark of this kind. "And _do_ look on the
+bright side. I always say that things of this sort may not be true, and
+even if they are, everything may be for the best in the end."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn liked to excite Millie's interest, and yet somehow loathed
+her sympathy.
+
+"Yes; do you know, I really _should_ have the ceiling painted, if I were
+you," she said, as if it were a new idea. "Otherwise your house is
+looking so nice--quite charming. I think it such an excellent plan not
+to have flowers in the windows, only ever-greens."
+
+"So glad you think so. It _is_ rather a good arrangement, because, you
+see, they always look exactly the same all the year round."
+
+"That they certainly do--and nevergreens would be a better name for
+them," spitefully said Mrs. Wyburn to herself as she drove off.
+
+"What a tiresome mood Isabella was in to-day," said Miss Westbury to
+herself. "I must go and see Jane Totness and tell her what she said....
+Ceiling, indeed! She _was_ nasty!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A PROPOSAL
+
+
+Miss Luscombe was looking out of the window, looking up to the street,
+waiting. At last she saw from her basement (the "tank," as her friends
+called it) a glimpse on the pavement of a pair of feet that she knew.
+They were the feet of Mr. John Ryland Rathbone. She hastened to prepare
+herself for his visit.
+
+It is obvious that people who live in a basement must look at life from
+a different point of view from all others. The proudest of women in that
+position must necessarily see it _de bas en haut_. The woman looking out
+of the drawing-room or higher for the person she is expecting to see
+gets more or less of a bird's-eye view. She sees the top of a hat first,
+and the person necessarily foreshortened. From the dining-room or
+ground-floor window she sees the approaching visitor through glass, but
+practically on a level, almost face to face, and therefore is incapable
+of judging him on the whole or of taking a very large view, since any
+object placed close to the eye deprives one of a sense of
+proportion--shuts out everything else. But from a basement window things
+are very different. It is wonderful how much character one learns to see
+in feet, and it is still more curious how, to the accustomed eye, their
+expression can vary from time to time. Flora saw at a glance by the
+obstinate stamp, the bad-tempered look of his boots, by the nervous
+impatience of his stride, that Mr. Rathbone was coming to see her in a
+state of agitation. One would hardly have believed that, without having
+seen his face at all, she would be so prepared for his behaviour when he
+arrived as to greet him anxiously from the door, even before he came in,
+with "Good heavens, what _is_ the matter?"
+
+"How do you know anything is the matter?"
+
+"I guessed. I saw your steps."
+
+"Everything is going wrong about the play. The expenses get larger every
+day. To sell even _one_ ticket for a charity, they tell me, is simply
+out of the question! I must invite everybody, and even then most of them
+won't come. Just think, my dear Miss Luscombe, all this trouble, worry,
+and expense for amateurs to play _Romeo and Juliet_ at an invitation
+performance to an absolutely empty house!"
+
+"Why do you think it will be empty?... Your friends?"
+
+"My friends? You're my only friend! Every chap at the Club I have spoken
+to about it said they would be out of town that day. One or two said
+they would come on afterwards and join me at supper. Supper! I said it
+was a _matinée_; so then they suggested I should give a dinner
+afterwards. And even women, they're quite as bad. I mentioned it to Lady
+Walmer. She is always so keen on going everywhere, and makes a hobby of
+odd charities and things. She said she was going yachting that day, and
+also that she was going to a wedding."
+
+"What does it matter just about Lady Walmer?"
+
+"Nothing, but it's an indication. Do we want to have no one in a theatre
+but the dressmakers who made the costumes? Miss Luscombe--Flora! I am
+beginning to think we'd better chuck it."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Rathbone! The waste and the disappointment!"
+
+"It would be a greater waste to make an utter fool of oneself in an
+empty house than to postpone it. I'm nervous. I'm really frightened. I'm
+beginning to see that I've been a fool. As to disappointment, _that_,
+Flora, you could console me for if you chose."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Rathbone!"
+
+"You really have been so sweet, so patient, it's my opinion that you are
+an angel!"
+
+"Oh, indeed I'm not!"
+
+"Well, you have the patience of one. You never think about yourself.
+You're all kindness and sweetness and thought for other people. To speak
+perfectly frankly, you have only one tiny fault, Flora. And that is,
+that you seem a _little_ artificial. But it's my opinion that such
+affectations as you have are natural to you and you can't help them, and
+you would be an ideal wife."
+
+Flora was actually silent with gratification. She did not even laugh.
+
+"Look here, Flora, we'd better chuck the performance altogether. Let's
+give it up, and have a show instead at St. George's, Hanover Square."
+
+"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, in a trembling voice, "because
+that would not be right. It wouldn't be nice of you--in fact, it would
+be rather cruel."
+
+"You don't mean to say you care for me the least little bit?" He took
+both her hands and stared hard at her face. "Is there something real
+about you then?" he continued.
+
+Tears came to her eyes. She turned her head away.
+
+"This seems too good to be true," she murmured.
+
+"Let's be married," he cried, "on the day we were going to have the
+show. Let's go to Oberammergau for our honeymoon, and don't let us ever
+go near the theatre again. Will you, dear? Or am I dreaming?"
+
+"Of course. I always have," she answered ingenuously; "but I hadn't a
+scrap of hope, and I didn't know how much I cared for you."
+
+"Dear Flora, I shall give up the stage and devote all my time to you."
+
+"So will I," she said. "I shall never want to act again."
+
+"Nor I, never--never!"
+
+"I shall rush home and countermand everything," he cried.
+
+"Oh, go not yet; it is not yet near day," she quoted in the tender voice
+she used for recitation.
+
+He burst into peals of laughter, and put his arms round her and kissed
+her impetuously.
+
+"Oh, Flora, what a fool I have been all this time! And you knew it--you
+knew it perfectly well. I thought when we were rehearsing that once you
+said the words, 'O Romeo, wherefore art _thou_ Romeo?' with rather
+marked emphasis on the 'thou'...."
+
+"Do you know that I never cared for any one but you in my life, Flora?"
+
+"Oh, oh! Why is 'C. L.' tattooed on your wrist?"
+
+"I'll have it taken out. I'll have Flora put on instead. I'll have
+anything you like tattooed in your honour--a hunting scene, a snap-shot
+of the Coronation--anything you like."
+
+"No, please not. I don't like it; I can't bear it. It's the only thing I
+ever haven't liked about you. But we'll forget it now, won't we?" she
+said.
+
+"And I'll forget the stage. Oh, Flora, how I have worried you! Forgive
+me. We won't think of anything but each other now."
+
+They repeated this sentiment again and again in these and other words
+for about an hour and a half, and forgot to turn up lights and ring the
+bell.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The first real love scene Flora had ever acted in was a triumphant
+success.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HEREFORD VAUGHAN
+
+
+To have eleven plays, all written out of one's own head, and all being
+performed simultaneously in American, in Eskimo, and even in Turkish,
+besides in every known European language; to have money rolling in, and
+the strange world of agents and managers pursuing you by every post and
+imploring for more contracts by every Marconigram; and these triumphs to
+have come quite suddenly, was really enough to have turned the head of
+any young man; yet Hereford Vaughan's (known by his very few intimate
+friends as Gillie) had remained remarkably calm. He was not even
+embittered by success.
+
+To know his jokes were being got over the footlights of so many lands
+was a curious sensation, and it often made him laugh suddenly to reflect
+how wicked certain quips must sound in, say, Japanese. Perhaps his
+friends were rather inclined to resent the way he retained his balance
+after what was really an almost unheard-of hit. They would have been
+readier to pardon it had he shown some sign of boring fatuity; or
+perhaps they thought he might at least have had a temporary nervous
+breakdown; taking the form (for choice) of losing all sense of the value
+of money and wildly throwing bank-notes and gold at every one he saw.
+But he remained quiet, reserved, and as apparently modest as ever.
+
+Modesty is a valuable merit (as I think Schopenhauer has discovered) in
+people who have no other, and the appearance of it is extremely useful
+to those who have, but I am not suggesting that Vaughan was not human,
+and there was, no doubt, many a moment when he smiled to himself, and
+felt that he was a great man.
+
+He was rather secretive and mysterious than blatant or dashing, and
+this, of course, made him, on the whole, more interesting to women. The
+fact that he had made a fortune and lived alone in a charming house with
+nothing but housekeepers, secretaries, telephones, typewriters, and
+cooks, of course made all the women of his acquaintance who had the
+match-making instinct (and what woman has not?) desire to see him
+married. As he showed no sign of doing so, they tried to console
+themselves by pretending that he had some secret romance. Old ladies
+hoped he had a broken heart for some fiancée who was lying under the
+daisies, having died of decline in the classical middle-Victorian way.
+Young ladies thought that he was probably fixed up in some way that
+would be sure in time to dissolve, and that he would marry later on. Far
+the most popular theory was that he didn't marry simply because he _was_
+married, privately; and that he had, no doubt, hurriedly espoused,
+before he was of age (and before the Registrar), some barmaid or
+chorus-girl, or other dreadful person, who had turned out far too
+respectable to divorce, and that he was thus a young man marred. They
+had no grounds for the rumour except that clever and promising young men
+often did these things, and he had always been a particularly promising
+young man, and in this unfortunate case had probably kept his promise.
+
+Vaughan was sitting one morning reading his notices (never believe the
+greatest men when they tell you that they don't do that!), when Muir
+Howard came cheerily, almost boisterously, into the room. He was an old
+school friend who had been devoted to Gillie long before his arrival,
+and of whose faults, virtues, cheeriness, and admiration Vaughan had
+made a confirmed habit.
+
+Muir was a very good-looking barrister, with vague parliamentary
+ambitions and a definite love of machinery. He always had pink cheeks,
+and wore a pink carnation, and looked as flourishing, gay, and yet,
+somehow, battered, as Vaughan looked pale, fresh, and sardonic. One of
+the things that surprised the general public was that Vaughan could not
+live without the continuous society of a person who certainly could not
+understand a word he wrote or much that he said. They didn't realise
+that Vaughan was so accustomed to not listening to Muir's long
+confidences, to disputing every proposition he made, and contradicting
+every word he said, that he always felt lost when his friend was away.
+Muir regarded him as a combination of hero, genius, pet, and child, and
+was always giving him advice and imploring him not to do too much. To
+Vaughan he was, as I have said, a habit, and there is always something
+agreeable in a habit of which one is a little tired.
+
+He had arrived this morning on his bicycle, and came in bringing a whiff
+of heartiness, self-complacency, and fresh air, saying, "Hallo! hallo!
+hallo! Priceless to find you in, Gillie!" All he got for it was that
+Vaughan looked up and said--
+
+"You used to be only breezy. Now you're becoming a thorough draught.
+Fold up and keep quiet, can't you?"
+
+"Nervous, I suppose," said Muir, in a sympathetic voice. "I wonder you
+don't take that stuff that you see in the papers about what is good
+for----"
+
+"Sudden pains in the back on washing-day, bending over the tub, and so
+forth? The portraits of the people before taking the remedy and after
+decided me. It seems, by the pictures, to make your hair grow long and
+give you whiskers and a ghastly squint. Ruins your clothes, too. Your
+collars get the wrong shape."
+
+"Oh well, leave it alone, then. Perhaps you're right.... You haven't
+asked me about the Walmers' dance. I took Miss de Freyne to supper. The
+American chap never turned up, and I was getting on with her simply
+rippingly, when _what_ do you think she said? Confided in me that she
+was privately engaged to and frightfully keen on that boy you met at
+Harry's. The baby Guardsman. Isn't it sickening?"
+
+"What did Miss Walmer do?" asked Vaughan.
+
+"She sort of hung about, waiting for Harry, who seemed to be getting on
+all right with the two strings to his bow, or two stools, or two bundles
+of hay, or whatever it is. What luck some people have!"
+
+"Not in this case. He'll lose them both."
+
+"Really? Why?"
+
+"He's not a diplomatist, and he wants such a lot for himself. He wants
+too much. No self-restraint."
+
+"Pretty useless for Mrs. Wyburn. I like her. She looked topping last
+night, too. But I dare say it'll be all right. Romer's a good chap.
+Awfully dull."
+
+"Most interesting. Are you going to stay here much longer, Muir?"
+
+"Why? Yes."
+
+Vaughan got up.
+
+"All right. Do. I'm going out."
+
+"Where?"
+
+Vaughan did not answer, but gave the heap of notices to his friend, and
+said--
+
+"Just divide the sheep and goats for me, will you? That's just what they
+are, the critics--either sheep or goats."
+
+"Of course I will. But, I say--I came here to have a talk."
+
+"I know you did. You have talked."
+
+He went out. Muir smiled to himself, enjoying this treatment as an
+eccentricity of genius.
+
+Five minutes later Gillie came back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+GILLIE INTERFERES
+
+
+He was not much surprised to find Muir proudly examining the invitation
+cards on the mantelpiece. Muir started and turned round as he came in.
+
+"Back again? Capital!"
+
+"Well, of all the snobs!" said Vaughan.
+
+"Hang it, Gillie, it's only for you. I'm pleased you're getting on,
+that's all."
+
+"No words can tell you how I despise your point of view. Just tell me
+something I want to know. Wasn't there a sort of little scene at this
+dance last night?"
+
+"I didn't see anything," he answered.
+
+"You never do."
+
+"Oh, I remember now, I heard something. It appears that Romer left his
+wife and Daphne at the dance and then came back in an hour to fetch
+them, and she wasn't there."
+
+"Who wasn't where?"
+
+"Val and Harry had gone for a little fresh air in a taxi for about a
+quarter of an hour, that's all. They came back and explained it."
+
+"They would. Don't apologise."
+
+"But just the few minutes that Romer was looking for them made--well,
+rather a fuss. It was perfectly all right afterwards. They all had
+supper together. So there wasn't much talk about it, except, as I say,
+while Romer was waiting for them. I never in my life saw any one look so
+ghastly as that chap did."
+
+Vaughan sat down and looked thoughtful.
+
+"Only you, Muir, would leave out the only thing of the slightest
+importance that you had to tell me, which I hear the second I leave the
+house from that round-faced tattooed idiot, Rathbone, at the corner of
+the street."
+
+"But I tell you it's all right, old chap."
+
+"All right? Don't you see that this sort of thing constantly happening
+will gradually undermine ...? I like Valentia. It's a great shame."
+
+"Harry certainly isn't worth smashing up a happy home for," Muir
+answered, "if that's what you're afraid of. But ... when he marries Miss
+Walmer it'll be all right. Val will forget about him, and settle down
+with Romer again. I'm deeper than you think, Gillie ... ah, I don't say
+much, but I can see as far through a brick wall as most people!"
+
+"Just about as far, I should think," said Vaughan contemptuously.
+
+"What do you propose to do about it?"
+
+"It's likely I'd tell you." Gillie sat down to his desk and rang a bell.
+
+"I suppose I've got to go now, eh?"
+
+"Almost time, I should think."
+
+"Ha, ha, ha! Capital! Well, so long! Be good."
+
+Muir went away as heartily as he had arrived.
+
+The bell was answered by the entrance of the housekeeper, Mrs. Mills.
+She was a muddle-headed, elderly woman in black silk, whom Vaughan kept
+because her extraordinary tactlessness amused him. She invariably
+managed to do and say the wrong thing at the right time. To-day it was a
+hot morning in July. She came in holding in her hand a little card
+covered with frost and robins.
+
+"Mr. Vaughan, sir, I appened to be going through my things, and I come
+across this, sir. I thought pre-aps you'd like it. It is pretty."
+
+She insisted on his taking it.
+
+"Charming, Mrs. Mills, but I don't quite see----"
+
+"Oh, look at the words, sir! They're what I call so appropriate! Do read
+them."
+
+He read the beautiful words--
+
+     _Wishing you a blithe and gladsome Yule._
+
+"What on earth----?"
+
+"Well, sir, I only thought they was pretty, and pre-aps you'd like to
+keep it, sir, or send it to one of your young ladies; but I'll take it
+away if you don't like it." She put it back in her pocket.
+
+"Frankly, I don't. What a genius you have for the wrong thing! Are you
+going to give me plum pudding and turkey on Midsummer Day?"
+
+"I shouldn't dream of such a thing, sir."
+
+Gillie had scribbled a letter.
+
+"Go and ring up a messenger boy, will you?"
+
+"May I send Johnson, sir? I don't old with telephones. They buzz at you
+or makes you jump. And the young person keeps on saying ave you got
+them? before you've ad time to breathe, in a manner of speaking."
+
+She took the note. Vaughan sat down on a sofa to wait for the answer,
+glanced at the clock, and said, "Confound Muir! He's made me waste
+another morning."
+
+When the answer came, Gillie went out and strolled towards Mount Street.
+
+He found Valentia at home, evidently flattered and fluttered at seeing
+him.
+
+"How sweet of you to come!" she said.
+
+"You'll stay to lunch, of course?"
+
+"I'm afraid I can't."
+
+"Oh! lunching with a leading lady, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"With whom?"
+
+"With Romeike and Curtice."
+
+"Not really? What fun! What are they like?"
+
+"Oh, Romeike is all right. I don't care so much about Curtice."
+
+She gave him a cigarette.
+
+"I never in my life," said Vaughan, "before to-day, attempted to
+interfere in anybody else's affairs."
+
+She stared at him.
+
+"But in this case it--may I really smoke?--does seem such a pity! Of
+course you know what I mean, don't you?"
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"You see, I feel so certain that if you were, let's say--married to
+_Harry_ and met Romer after, you'd be so wildly in love with Romer."
+
+"So I was," she said in a low voice. "Tremendously! I thought he was a
+strong silent man with a great deal in him.... Oh! I've told you."
+
+"Yes, but so he is. It's commonplace of you, really, Val, not to see
+it."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry.... I do love Romer, and I think I appreciate him.
+But somehow it's a little dull. It's not exciting as I thought it would
+be."
+
+"Well! if you _must_ have fun, and amusement, and make a hero of
+somebody, why just Harry? Why not a superior man? Me, for instance?"
+
+He was laughing.
+
+"I've been told that an adoration for you would be hopeless, utterly
+hopeless." She smiled. "And we're friends. I can't imagine----"
+
+"Nor I. Of course I know it's utterly absurd to come and give people
+advice on these subjects, and one can't dispute about tastes and all
+that. But my practical mind revolts to see any one so delightful as you
+throwing away the substance for the shadow. You see, I'm a mass of
+platitudes."
+
+"Shadows are very attractive sometimes."
+
+"But they go away too. And then where are you?"
+
+She was silent.
+
+"They do, really. I know what I'm talking about." He stood up. "Think
+over what I've said."
+
+"You're kind, but you're rather depressing, Gillie," said Val. She
+looked a little frightened, but very pretty.
+
+"When do you go back to the country?"
+
+"Oh, to-day. We're there now. We only came up for the dance. We're
+motoring down to the Green Gate.... All of us."
+
+"Oh yes.... I'm afraid you must think me very impertinent."
+
+"Indeed I don't."
+
+"And when I've gone you will give orders that you're never at home to me
+again. But, somehow, I couldn't help it. If it makes you hate me to
+remember what I've said, forget it."
+
+She laughed as he rose to go.
+
+"That's all right, Gillie; but what I want to know is, where you're
+really going."
+
+"I'll tell you, exactly. I'm going home to lunch, because I've an urgent
+appointment immediately afterwards."
+
+"More plays, I suppose? What sort this time?"
+
+"A light comedy, with a very slight love interest," he answered, "all
+dialogue, no action.... At least, so far."
+
+"Oh, then it isn't finished yet?"
+
+"Not quite. Good-bye. And if you ever want a change, remember--a
+_superior_ man!"
+
+They both laughed insincerely.
+
+He left her looking thoughtfully out of the window.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE BALD-FACED STAG
+
+
+Vaughan went home, and after lunching, chiefly on a newspaper and a cup
+of coffee, he got into a taxicab and gave a direction.
+
+The vehicle flew smoothly along down Park Lane, past the Marble Arch
+into the Edgware Road, and on from there between houses and shops,
+growing gradually uglier and uglier, to Maida Vale, up Shoot-up Hill,
+and so on until there was a glimpse of suburban country, and gasworks,
+and glaring posters of melodramas on hoardings, till it stopped suddenly
+at a real little old roadside inn, straight out of Dickens--"The
+Bald-faced Stag at Edgware." Edgware suggested _John Gilpin_, Gillie's
+favourite poem.
+
+Here he got out, and was positively welcomed, and heartily, by a real
+roadside innkeeper--also out of Dickens--resembling the elder Weller--a
+local magnate called Tom Brill, who looked a relic of the coaching days,
+though really he never did anything but stand in front of the inn in
+his shirt-sleeves and welcome people.
+
+Vaughan, obviously an habitué, walked through the inn into a perfectly
+adorable garden, which was so large, so quiet, and so full of pinks,
+hollyhocks, and other old-fashioned flowers, so absolutely peaceful and
+sleepy, that one could have imagined oneself miles away in the country.
+
+The garden belonged as much to the Dickens period as the inn itself. It
+contained a great many wooden arbours in which one could imagine ladies
+in crinolines archly accepting tea, or refusing sips of shrub (whatever
+that may be) with whiskered gentlemen. There was a large cage full of
+Persian pheasants with gorgeous Indian colouring, which always suggested
+to Vaughan--he didn't know why--the Crimean War. There was a parlour
+covered with coloured prints of racehorses and boxing matches, and in
+which was a little round table painted as a draught-board, and furnished
+with a set of Indian chessmen of red and white ivory. The whole thing,
+though only twenty minutes' drive from Mayfair, was unknown, unspoilt,
+and apparently had not altered in any particular since about 1856. Its
+great charm was that it was utterly unself-conscious; it had no idea
+that it was quaint.
+
+Vaughan sat down on a rustic seat and plunged into the atmosphere of the
+period that he loved, revelling in the soothing, delightful calm, and in
+the fact that nobody there knew who he was (though they knew him well by
+name), and that none of his friends and acquaintances would have dreamt
+that he was there.
+
+A large field beyond the garden contained cows, hay, and other rustic
+things.
+
+Presently Tom Brill came up to him, and he asked after Mrs. Brill, whom
+her husband always described, with confidential pride, as "Though I say
+it that shouldn't say it, as fine a woman as you'll meet in a day's
+march."
+
+Vaughan always assented to this proposition. As he had never himself in
+his life been for a day's march, and probably never would, he certainly
+would have had no right to contradict Mr. Brill on the subject.
+
+"Is Miss Brill at home?" he presently asked. "May I see her?"
+
+"Certainly, sir, of course you shall. She's helping her mother. I'll
+call her. Don't move, sir, don't move."
+
+Miss Brill, who had been helping her mother to look out of the window,
+now came into the garden, which immediately became idyllic.
+
+She was not in any way like the innkeeper's daughter of Comic Opera.
+She was a schoolgirl of sixteen, with a long, fair plait, a short serge
+skirt, and a seraphic oval face. She ought to have been called Fanny or
+Clara. Unluckily her name was Gladys.
+
+She said in a very sweet voice--
+
+"You're quite a stranger, sir." And she amplified the assertion by
+adding, "You haven't been here not this ever so long."
+
+"I know I haven't, but I've been longing to come."
+
+"Not you!" she said ironically.
+
+She was standing opposite him, with her hands behind her back. Without a
+hat, in the glaring afternoon sun, with the complexion, pale pink and
+white, of a china doll that had never made up, she was a refreshing
+sight after the theatrical world in London, not to speak of society.
+Vaughan seemed to think so.
+
+"Well, how did you enjoy the play?" he asked.
+
+"It was very kind of you to send us the tickets. Mother enjoyed it."
+
+"You didn't care much for the piece yourself?"
+
+"I thought it was rather silly," she answered.
+
+He had never had a criticism on his work that pleased him more.
+
+"I mean," she went on, "I shouldn't have thought--well, nobody would go
+on like that."
+
+"Go on how?"
+
+"Why, go on so silly."
+
+"You wouldn't like to see another play, written by the same man, then?"
+
+"I wouldn't mind another one. Wild horses wouldn't drag me to see that
+again."
+
+"Wild horses are not likely to try," he observed. At which jest she
+laughed loudly and charmingly, showing marvellous teeth. She had no
+cockney accent, though she occasionally and fitfully dropped an H.
+
+"Oh, Gladys, do take me for a walk in the field."
+
+"Want to see the calf?"
+
+"No; I can live without seeing the calf. I want to sit in the field with
+you."
+
+"You are a caution! Come on then, but I can't stay long."
+
+They climbed the gate, which she seemed to think a quicker mode of
+entrance than sending for the key, and sat in the field, from which Mr.
+Brill always declared you could see three counties. Perhaps you could;
+if so, they all looked exactly alike.
+
+"It's quiet here, isn't it? I shan't have much more of it," she
+remarked.
+
+"Oh, Gladys! Don't say you're going away!"
+
+"Of course I am. Don't you know I'm going to be a manicure in Bond
+Street?"
+
+"Bond Street? How revolting! Is that your ambition?"
+
+"Why, I think it would be very nice. I must do something. Father's
+settled about it. First I'm going to pay to learn it, and then I shall
+earn quite a lot. It's a great hairdresser's."
+
+"I think it's horrible, Gladys. Perhaps you'll fall in love with a
+German hairdresser, and be lost to me for ever."
+
+"I shan't fall in love with no foreigners, don't you fret."
+
+"I'm not fretting. Will you have your hair done up?" he asked, lifting
+the long plait.
+
+"Well, of course I shall, and waved, and that."
+
+"Gladys, they'll spoil you."
+
+The conversation went on in this strain for some time. She alternately
+repeated the exclamation, "How you do go on!" or accused him of the
+mysterious crime of being a caution, but she never stopped looking
+perfectly beautiful and seraphic.
+
+When they went back to the garden a few other visitors had straggled in.
+They all seemed to come in high dog-carts, and they always ordered eggs,
+jam, and watercress with their tea, and were immensely impressed by the
+Persian pheasants.
+
+Vaughan went back to London feeling refreshed, and already, strangely,
+counting the days till he could come back.
+
+There was not a woman in the world he knew whom he would have taken the
+slightest trouble to see except Gladys, the innkeeper's daughter. She
+was an illiterate schoolgirl; and though she had a lovely face, she was
+stupid, and probably not so angelic as she looked; but he always felt a
+little disappointed as he drove back. He wished she were in love with
+him.
+
+And this ungratified wish was, in all his full life with its brilliant
+success, perhaps his greatest real pleasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE GREEN GATE
+
+
+When Harry came down to breakfast, a little late, he found Valentia
+waiting to pour out his coffee, and some letters on his plate. She
+watched him as he opened them. Most of them looked like bills. On the
+envelope of one was a little blue flag. Harry put this letter in his
+pocket, and went on eating.
+
+"It's a lovely morning, Harry. So fresh; just the sort of day not to do
+anything at all."
+
+"Ah! that's what's so delightful about you all," he answered. "You never
+say, 'What shall we do?' and neither of you have ever said yet that this
+is Liberty Hall, which means, as a rule, in a country house, 'Breakfast
+at eight o'clock sharp, you won't mind it being a little cold if you're
+late, and then we are going for a motor drive at 9.30.' Still, I think,
+perhaps, one ought to take a little exercise. I feel almost equal to a
+game of croquet this afternoon--later on--when I'm stronger. Is any one
+coming down to-day?"
+
+"No. And only Van Buren, and Vaughan and Muir Howard on Sunday. I see
+you've heard from the Walmers. What do they say?"
+
+"It's sure to be nothing of interest. How I love your hair parted on one
+side! It makes you look like a boy."
+
+"Not a principal boy, I hope. Why not read the letter?"
+
+Harry got up and fetched himself something from the sideboard.
+
+"I don't feel quite strong enough yet. When I've had breakfast. I should
+like to paint you as you're looking now, Val. I think I'll do a sketch
+of you in the rose garden, all in black and white, like a Beardsley,
+with the balustrades and steps and things behind you. Will you sit to
+me?"
+
+"That's all very well. But why don't you read your letter?"
+
+"There's sure to be nothing in it."
+
+"How can you tell till you've opened it?"
+
+"I know. I always feel what's in a letter without opening it. Don't you?
+I absorb the essence, as it were, through the covers of the envelope, as
+somebody or other--Macaulay, I think--used to absorb all the important
+things through the covers of a book. Or wasn't it Macaulay? Anyhow, it
+doesn't matter. It was some tiresome person whom one oughtn't to talk
+about on a morning like this."
+
+Harry evidently was not quite at his ease.
+
+"But why not read it?" She spoke playfully.
+
+"How persistent women are, just like children. To tease you I just
+shan't."
+
+"Oh, Harry!"
+
+"I shan't read it now at all," he went on. "I can answer it without
+reading it."
+
+"It's only that I should like to know how the Walmers are enjoying
+themselves on _Flying Fish_. Lady Walmer was a little afraid they
+mightn't like it."
+
+Here Romer came up to the window and called out--
+
+"I say, Val, come here a minute. I want to ask you something."
+
+"Here I am, dear," and she vanished into the garden.
+
+The second she had gone Harry opened the letter very carefully, and
+read--
+
+     "Dearest Harry,
+
+     "You are a rotter never to write. I'm having _such_ a time. Weather
+     priceless, but very sick at not hearing from you. Algie Thynne is
+     here. Do you know him? He's rather a nut. Wish you were here. No
+     more to-day. Bye-bye, old son.
+
+                                             "Your loving "ALEC."
+
+     "P.S.--Do write. The moonlight nights are simply topping. Just like
+     a picture. I think you'd like it; otherwise everything is beastly.
+
+     "I love you more than ever.
+
+                                                             "A."
+
+He put the letter back in the untorn envelope and carefully fastened it
+up again. He then placed it on the mantelpiece, and having finished his
+breakfast, lit a cigarette.
+
+He looked thoughtful.
+
+"Algie Thynne, indeed!" he said to himself. "How pathetic, trying to
+make me jealous! Well, it's a pretty letter, and what's more, it must be
+answered."
+
+Val came back.
+
+"Romer wants the lawn mown," she said. "He's perfectly mad on the
+subject of mowing the lawn. He seems to think it ought to be shaved
+every day. It's the only thing he knows about the country. Well, have
+you read your letter?"
+
+"There it is," said Harry. "You can read it if you like." He watched her
+carefully as she took it from the mantelpiece.
+
+"I don't want to read it," she said, holding it.
+
+"Nor do I," said Harry.
+
+"Harry, tell me honestly, wouldn't you really mind if I tore it into
+little bits and put it in the waste-paper basket--just as it is?"
+
+"Not a straw," said Harry, shaking his head.
+
+She clapped her hands, tore it into tiny pieces, and threw it in the
+basket. Then she said, in a low voice of deep gratitude--
+
+"Oh, Harry, you are sweet! Do forgive me."
+
+"I don't see that there's anything to forgive," said Harry.
+
+"Yes, there is; lots. I'm afraid I've been horrid. I'll never bother you
+about any thing again."
+
+She was simply beaming.
+
+"Good," answered Harry indifferently.
+
+But as he followed her into the garden he looked rather perplexed. He
+felt that this sort of thing was not leading up very well to what he
+would have to tell her soon. However, why spoil a lovely day by thinking
+of it?
+
+Like a schoolboy with his holiday task before him, he put it off as long
+as possible.
+
+Though he didn't own it to himself, and was disdainfully amused at
+Alec's letter, still the thought of Algie Thynne, moonlight nights on
+the yacht, topping weather, and his own neglect, gave him some cause for
+alarm. Algie Thynne was _criblé_ with debts, and probably keen on
+marrying for money. Contemptible young ass! Why didn't he _work_? Harry
+despised him.
+
+At the earliest opportunity (which, by the way, did not arise until he
+had made an excuse to go into the village, where he wrote at the post
+office) the answer was sent.
+
+Even Harry found the beginning of the letter too difficult, so he always
+began (as Valentia might have said) without a beginning, which impressed
+Miss Walmer much more. Ever since he had reached the age of discretion,
+which, in his case, was at his majority, Harry had been thoroughly
+trained in the habit of writing letters that gratified the recipient
+enormously without compromising the writer in the slightest degree. The
+habitual dread of those _bêtes noires_ of Don Juan--the breach of
+promise case and the Divorce Court--had got him into the way of writing
+the sort of letter that he would have had no objection to hear read
+aloud in court. Perhaps that was why the sentences were always polished,
+and the meaning a little vague.
+
+     "... I don't speak your language, perhaps, but I understand your
+     letter, reading between the lines. It came like a whiff of fresh
+     sea air. Yes, it would be delightful to be on board _Flying Fish_
+     now. However, no doubt Algie Thynne--(_how_ eloquently, by the way,
+     you describe him! putting all the complications of his character
+     and the dazzling charm of his personality in a nutshell by the
+     simple sentence '_He's rather a nut!_')--amply compensates for my
+     absence. You ask if I know him. I do, though perhaps more by
+     reputation than anything else. We have met once or twice. Where? I
+     can't quite recall. Perhaps at the Oratory, or at the Supper Club
+     or some place of that sort. But somehow I never pursued his
+     acquaintance, nor did it ever ripen into friendship. I felt,
+     instinctively, that he was too clever for me.
+
+     "I trust all the same that his brilliance will not altogether
+     overshadow your memory of _others_. I should not like to think that
+     we were drifting apart. Still, if it should be so, I must resign
+     myself. I could still be happy in thinking of you, Alec.
+
+         _'Love that is love at all
+         Asks for no earthly coronal'_--
+
+     but, I remember, you once expressed to me your opinion that _all
+     poetry is rot_. So I will not bore you with quotations. It is
+     pleasant here, and my cousins are very kind, and leave me alone to
+     think as much as I like. I'm not, somehow, quite in the mood for
+     the usual gaieties and frivolities of a country house. Last night
+     we played Musical Chairs until two in the morning, and to-day I am
+     a little weary. Your postscript gave me joy. I need not say that I
+     reciprocate it, need I?...
+
+     "I feel all that you are feeling, and somehow even know what you
+     are doing, and if you did not write again until we meet, I should
+     not be anxious. I have a trusting nature. But when you wire,
+     remember that the telegraph boy has a good way to walk, and when
+     telegrams arrive after midnight, it causes a sensation and much
+     inquiry. Also I cannot help feeling that every one in the village,
+     as well as at the Green Gate, has read the words I would like to
+     keep to myself alone. I have a curious love of mystery--isn't
+     mystery the great charm of all romance?--So to gratify this fancy
+     of mine, sign your next telegram 'Johnson.' I know you won't mind.
+
+     "When we meet again, all, I trust, will be clear and definite
+     before us. Best love to dear Lady Walmer, and to yourself what I am
+     sure you will know. Don't be angry with me for not writing oftener.
+     I find it very difficult to express my thoughts, for alas, I have
+     no command of language. Not only that, the pens here have one great
+     fault--they won't write. Otherwise they're quite excellent.... Yes,
+     your note has given me, as the French say, 'furiously to think.'
+
+     "Hoping that all will go well with you, and looking forward, think
+     me as always,
+
+                                    "Yours, faithfully,
+                                    "HARRY BROKE DE FREYNE."
+
+"There! that ought to keep her quiet for a month," he thought as he
+posted the letter, and with a sigh of relief turned back towards the
+Green Gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A SUNDAY AFTERNOON
+
+
+By this time Van Buren was entirely in Harry's confidence; that is to
+say, Harry had gradually trained him to bear without flinching the
+situation as Harry represented it. He believed Harry had a hopeless
+romantic affection for Mrs. Romer Wyburn which he was trying to stifle,
+and that Miss Walmer being hopelessly in love with _him_, he was doing
+his best to marry her, partly, as he candidly admitted, on worldly
+grounds.
+
+Van Buren was deeply touched at Harry's trust in him, and was always
+trying to keep him up to his good resolutions by pointing out that any
+understanding (however Platonic) between the pretty Valentia and the
+handsome guest was dishonourable, a breach of hospitality towards Romer,
+that silent but admirable host.
+
+Indeed, he repeated to Harry so often and so firmly, "It can't be done;
+one can't make love to the wife of a friend," that Harry was driven to
+the point of replying that he hardly saw whom else, as a matter of fact,
+one _could_ very well make love to; it being impossible to have romances
+with people one didn't know. And in this case the fact that Harry was
+very fond of Romer made the temptation far greater, as he explained;
+Harry being (as he pointed out) so very sensitive and highly strung that
+he could never, somehow, be really attracted by a woman whose husband
+was not sympathetic to him. Which point of view Van Buren, shaking his
+head, regarded as unsound.
+
+Harry now spent much time giving picturesque sketches and impressions of
+his feelings to his friend, for he had an almost feminine love of
+talking over personal affairs to the sympathetic. In his benevolence Van
+Buren longed to protect Valentia and Romer, and to give Miss Walmer all
+she wanted; but most of all his idea was to save Harry from himself, so
+he always accepted with alacrity invitations to the Green Gate for
+altruistic reasons. Besides, his desire to see Daphne, although she was
+now becoming more and more remote to him, was still persistent, if a
+little less vivid.
+
+"I've had a beautiful womanly letter from Alec to-day," Harry confided
+in Van as soon as he arrived. "You know the sort of thing she writes:
+all in jerks and subaltern's slang. With sincere sentiment showing
+between the lines. And I answered it."
+
+"A beautiful manly letter, I hope? I'm sure you could do that as well as
+any one, Harry."
+
+Harry smiled.
+
+"Oh, just some vague, cautious slosh, not unamusing in its way--it'll
+_get_ there all right."
+
+"Yes, Harry, I know, but I do hope----Ah, Miss Daphne, how beautiful
+your England is looking to-day! In America we never have a day like
+this, warm and yet cool, with all those nice, white, fleecy clouds in
+the sky. Our atmosphere is always so hard and clear. Now this garden
+with those large trees is just like a Corot. They _are_ fine trees.
+Poplars, I presume?"
+
+"You _do_ presume," smiled Daphne; "I don't know what they are, but I'm
+perfectly sure they're not poplars."
+
+"Oh yes--I'm wrong. They're oaks, I've no doubt." He hummed, "'The oak
+and the ash and the bonny ivy tree.' Do let's walk over and look at them
+closer, Miss Daphne."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't. Tea's ready."
+
+To his annoyance Van was obliged to follow Daphne and join the group
+round the tea-table. He declined with some formality of manner to accept
+the glass of iced water Daphne offered him, and looked at her with that
+look of tender, fixed, respectful reproach that had the effect of
+irritating her very nearly to the point of incivility.
+
+She turned to Muir Howard, who was looking very pink and cheery. Muir
+was a popular man for his great ease in making conversation, the kind
+that is as the pudding part in a plum pudding, and without which the
+plums, however delightful, could hardly stick together. Though the great
+majority of people talk commonplaces, their banalities are by no means
+always the kind that help. Muir's particular way of opening open doors,
+flogging dead horses, and genially enjoying any spark of fun in his
+friends, coupled with his good looks and pleasant, hearty disposition,
+made him a most useful and welcome guest, as a sort of super. He was
+quite decorative, and could be turned on to talk newspaper politics to
+dull men, pretty platitudes to plain women; to make himself generally
+useful, and altogether to help things to go. In this way he was
+invaluable. Young girls always liked him; he was a great favourite with
+elderly ladies, and with men of his own age also, who were, however,
+occasionally bored with his worship for his friend Vaughan. He found it
+very difficult not to mention Gillie less than once in every five
+minutes.
+
+That distinguished young man, who was beginning to look a little jaded
+with incense, was engrossed with his hostess. Whenever he was there
+Harry always became particularly devoted in his manner to Valentia, and
+scarcely ever left her other side. This was one of the reasons that she
+enjoyed Gillie's presence, besides that she was, now that she knew him
+well, particularly fond of him. His conversation and personality in
+general had a special flavour.
+
+Every one was talking and laughing with the light intoxication produced
+by tea and cigarettes in the open air on a fine Sunday afternoon,
+excepting only Romer, who as usual said hardly anything, absorbed in
+admiration of his wife. He suddenly remarked--
+
+"I say, Val. The Campbells are coming."
+
+He wondered why this statement produced a burst of irresponsible
+laughter.
+
+"What fun! Will there be bagpipes?" Vaughan asked.
+
+"No, no. Romer means the Prebendary Campbell, or at least his wife and
+daughter. They're coming to see us this afternoon. I had quite
+forgotten. Please all behave nicely. They've been a long time making up
+their minds. I believe they think we're frivolous."
+
+"Not really? How could they? It reminds one of the story of Henry
+James." Vaughan stopped to light a cigarette.
+
+"Go on."
+
+"It appears that for some time his near neighbours in the country
+looked a little coldly on him on the grounds that, being a writer, he
+must be Bohemian. At last the local doctor's wife and clergyman's wife
+called on him, and finding him perfectly respectable, stayed for many
+hours. They were particularly tedious and rather self-righteous. When
+they had gone, he said thoughtfully to some one who was pitying him for
+being bored, 'One of those poor wantons has a certain cadaverous
+grace.'"
+
+The story was well received, except by Van Buren, who seemed painfully
+shocked.
+
+Daphne, who had gone into the house to fetch some snapshots, now came
+running back saying--
+
+"Val, Val! The Campbells are arriving in a fly, and they seem to have
+brought their foreigner with them--that man Miss Campbell told me about.
+He's a kind of Belgian, and awfully clever--he's invented something."
+
+"What's he invented?"
+
+"Brussels sprouts?" suggested Harry rather sleepily.
+
+"But they've been invented already."
+
+"Why shouldn't he invent them over again? Give him a chance."
+
+Muir began to sing softly, "Young Lochinvar has come out of the West,"
+which he appeared to think a suitable serenade, but he stopped suddenly
+at Gillie's entreaty.
+
+"I don't mind anything Muir does, as long as he doesn't sing," he always
+explained.
+
+"It's awful hard lines. I've got a ripping baritone voice, but I never
+have a chance to use it," murmured Muir.
+
+"You shall sing to me this afternoon. I'll accompany you," whispered
+Daphne.
+
+Muir had gratefully answered that it was frightfully decent of her, when
+the servant announced--
+
+"Mrs. and Miss Campbell. Mr.----" He left a blank, unable to pronounce
+the name.
+
+But Mrs. Campbell introduced Mynheer von Stoendyck.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+Mrs. Campbell was an amiable, colourless woman, with a greyish brown
+fringe that looked as if it were made of Berlin wool. Though she was not
+yet forty-five, she wore a bonnet with violet velvet strings, and had a
+very long waist. Also, her skirt, in reality quite normal, looked, to
+the eye used to contemporary fashion, grotesquely wide at the end.
+
+Her daughter was an ordinary Rectory girl, spoilt by a dash of culture.
+At a glance all present saw she was in love with Mr. Stoendyck. He was a
+well-set-up man of about thirty-five, with a military manner and
+scientific eye-glasses, also a turned-up light moustache. He spoke all
+languages with one rasping accent, but Mrs. Campbell seemed to suffer
+under the delusion that he could only understand broken English. So
+whenever people spoke to him she translated their remarks into a sort of
+baby language that seemed singularly out of place from her.
+
+"I'm afraid you must think me dreadfully worldly, calling on you on a
+Sunday," said Mrs. Campbell, laughing socially as she sat down. "But
+what the Prebendary always says is, the better the day the better the
+deed."
+
+"Oh, does he always say that?" Harry asked with great apparent interest,
+waking up. He had been overpowered with languor ever since lunch.
+
+"Yes, and I felt sure you wouldn't mind our bringing our friend, Mr.
+Stoendyck. He is so clever. He's come over to England about an
+invention."
+
+Val thought of Brussels sprouts, but did not suggest it.
+
+Mrs. Campbell apparently couldn't take her eyes off the Belgian, whom
+she watched as one watches a rather dangerous pet, though he appeared
+particularly safe.
+
+Muir, for an unknown reason addressing the Belgian as Professor, was
+asking him his impressions of England. Mrs. Campbell bent forward, and
+said with a nod--
+
+"E ope you like it--Angleterre, you know"--and nodded idiotically.
+
+"I find it most interesting," said Mr. Stoendyck raspingly, in admirable
+English. "There are opportunities in this country for the pursuance of
+science, art, and social intercourse which one would hardly have
+expected. I do not take tea, I thank you much."
+
+"Have a glass of beer?" said Romer, suddenly inspired.
+
+Simple as the sentence was, Mrs. Campbell thought it necessary to
+translate it with more nods.
+
+"E ask you, ave beer. _Bière_, you know! Glass," and then she went on in
+her usual tone, "Most thoughtful of Mr. Wyburn, I'm sure. What a
+charming place this is of yours, Mrs. Wyburn. I always say the Green
+Gate is the most picturesque place in the neighbourhood. And Mr. de
+Freyne, I understand, is an artist. Do you know my daughter, Marion, is
+_so_ interested in art! And my younger son, Garstin, though he is only
+twelve years old, shows great artistic talent, too. He did a map of
+Buckinghamshire that really surprised me, almost any one would recognise
+it at a glance. I always say I'm sure some day Garstin will be in the
+Royal Academy."
+
+Van Buren had approached and began to talk to Mrs. Campbell. Val went
+over to the Belgian, but she heard the American beginning a sentence as
+usual with, "Pleased to meet you. I've never had the opportunity of
+mixing much in clerical circles in New York, Mrs. Campbell," and felt
+sure he was going to ask impossible questions about Prebendaries and
+Rural Deans.
+
+The rasping Belgian, on whom both the mother and daughter cast continual
+anxious and admiring eyes, though he seemed thoroughly able to take care
+of himself, said to Muir, who was taking him on--
+
+"No, I do not spend my entire time over my invention. Mrs. Campbell is
+so kind as to take me for drives in the environment, to give me a right
+impression of the beauties of Hertfordshire. For relaxation I play the
+piano."
+
+"Ha! Musical, eh, Professor?" asked Muir shrewdly. "That's right; so am
+I. I'm awfully keen on music." He spoke reassuringly.
+
+Mr. Stoendyck looked at him through his glasses, and said without
+interest--
+
+"Indeed. I find Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, even on the piano,
+extraordinarily satisfying and refreshing to the mind after the strain
+of looking at English scenery." He drank a long draught of iced lager.
+
+"Oh! Classical, eh? I'm not up to that. Queen's Hall, eh? That sort of
+thing."
+
+"I beg your pardon? Is there----Has the Queen a hall in this
+neighbourhood?"
+
+"How do you mean, Professor?"
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+Mrs. Campbell, who managed to hear through her own conversation with Van
+Buren, called out--
+
+"E say e no understand," and nodded smilingly, seeming to think she had
+helped matters considerably.
+
+Miss Campbell talked of tennis, matins, hats and the opera to Daphne,
+but appeared to be absent, and occasionally smiled at the foreigner, who
+ignored her.
+
+At last the Campbells and their Belgian withdrew, Mrs. Campbell saying
+that the Prebendary wished them to go to Evensong. Their departure left,
+as such visits do, a blank and a reaction. Our friends were silent for a
+minute.
+
+Then Vaughan said--
+
+"I feel crushed, and a little flattened out, too."
+
+"_I_ feel as if my brain were made of cotton wool," said Harry.
+
+"Come and sing," suggested Daphne to Muir, and they went off to the
+drawing-room, from which strains were soon heard about _It IS not
+because_,--something or other.
+
+In the middle of the song Daphne played a wrong note, stopped, and
+said--
+
+"Oh, I wish Cyril was here!"
+
+"So do I. If he can accompany, I wish he was here."
+
+"Oh, go on!"
+
+"_It IS not because thy heart is mine_"....
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The party in the garden listened with a worried expression.
+
+"How about croquet?" suggested Val. "The tapping noise will take it
+off."
+
+"Yes. Come on."
+
+"You can't," said Romer. "The lawn wants mowing."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+IN THE ROSE GARDEN
+
+
+"How lovely this place must look at dawn!"
+
+"By Jove! That's an idea, Gillie," said Harry. "It must look glorious."
+
+They were sitting in the rose garden with Valentia. It was still quite
+light, though the sunset glow had nearly faded. There was a rich mellow
+tone in the sky, a promise of peace, a feeling that it was the end of
+the day, which, combined with the almost cloyingly sweet scent of the
+roses, was enough to make any one feel poetical.
+
+"To think we've never seen the sun rise here!" exclaimed Valentia.
+
+Romer here joined them, smoking a cigarette.
+
+"Hasn't Romer ever seen the sun rise here?" Vaughan asked.
+
+"Never," said Romer.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose because it always happens after I've gone to
+bed," he answered drily.
+
+"Let's sit up all night and see it to-morrow," suggested Valentia.
+
+"Yes. Capital! Do let us!" said Harry.
+
+Romer did not appear much taken with this scheme.
+
+"Oh no, you mustn't _sit_ up," said Vaughan. "That's not the way to see
+it."
+
+"Is there so much difference between staying up and getting up then?"
+Val asked.
+
+"Yes, indeed, all the difference in the world. You must get up fresh,
+with the birds."
+
+"What time do birds get up? Is it _very_ early?"
+
+"It would do if you were out at three this time of the year, or even at
+four."
+
+"Well, let's do it!"
+
+"Oh, I don't think I shall," said Harry.
+
+He looked at Valentia.
+
+She answered--
+
+"You might make a sketch, you know, of the early birds getting up to
+catch the worms. But--I don't think I shall. Anyhow, not _to-morrow_ at
+_half-past three_."
+
+"All right," said Harry with a nod, "we won't. Don't tell Daphne, or
+she'll be out at 3.15 to the tick, to take a snapshot of the dawn."
+
+"A snapshot of the dawn! Wouldn't that be sacrilege?"
+
+"Young girls are always inclined to that. They're so prosaic," said
+Harry, getting up. "I must go and see what Van is doing."
+
+He walked away with his usual quick, supple step and casual bearing.
+They watched his slim figure as he went. Then Romer followed him,
+slowly.
+
+Vaughan turned to Valentia and said: "I shouldn't if I were you."
+
+"Wouldn't what?"
+
+"Why, meet Harry at half-past three to-morrow morning in the rose
+garden."
+
+"Good gracious! I never thought of doing such a thing. Besides, it was
+your idea.... As a matter of fact, I really assure you it wouldn't be
+here. It would be in the orchard if anywhere. There is the loveliest
+cherry-tree there, with a seat all round it."
+
+"How jolly! I'd like to see it. Will you give me the key?"
+
+"Who told you it was kept locked?"
+
+She looked rather annoyed.
+
+"You did, but not intentionally."
+
+"I don't see that you have really any right to suppose----Why
+shouldn't I go in my own orchard, at any hour I like?"
+
+"But, Val--of course you ought to go in your own orchard. But why don't
+you meet Romer there?"
+
+"Oh, Gillie, really!..."
+
+"He is so straight, so good-looking, and, under all that manner, he's
+exactly like Vesuvius. Yes. Fancy, you're living with a volcano and you
+don't appreciate it!"
+
+"Gillie, it's really rather stupid of you to put things like that. It
+isn't a question of liking either one person _or_ another. If Romer were
+ill, or anything like that, don't you _know_----"
+
+"I know you'd devote yourself to him, like a sister or a mother. You'd
+put Harry aside for a time as a pleasure that mustn't be indulged in.
+Now that's just where you're wrong. No! _I_ want to see you being ever
+so good and kind to dear Harry as a duty to a ne'er-do-well of a cousin;
+and regarding Romer----"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"My point is," he went on, "that it's really too distressingly
+conventional of you to suppose that because you happen to be legally
+married there can be no sort of romance. Only comradeship, or perhaps
+affectionate sentiment? That's what you believe."
+
+"Isn't it always so?"
+
+"Most often, I grant. That's generally through the man's point of view.
+But Romer is an exception. He's as much in love as if he had no hope of
+ever being within a mile of you."
+
+She seemed rather flattered. "Do you really think so? But even that
+isn't everything."
+
+"Oh, there's a great deal to be done with Romer," was Vaughan's reply.
+
+He spoke with dreamy significance, and she was silent. Then she
+exclaimed, turning round suddenly--
+
+"I suppose what you really mean is that Harry doesn't care a bit about
+me?"
+
+"No, I don't. But he cares a bit about a lot of people, and things. He's
+superficial, and he has no courage."
+
+"No courage? _Harry!_"
+
+"He'd crumble up in a crisis if a strong man took him in hand."
+
+"That's all nonsense." She was growing angry. "Hasn't he been up in an
+aeroplane, and done--oh, all sorts of things? I call Harry daring and
+brave!"
+
+"That's all vanity. All that is show and vanity. Oh, Valentia, do
+forgive me."
+
+"I'll try.... here he is."
+
+He was seen coming towards them again. Her anger flickered out at once.
+
+"I suppose he thinks we've been here long enough," she said, smiling as
+women do at such symptoms.
+
+"Of course he does. Vanity--just vanity." Vaughan strolled away.
+
+"Look here! What were you two talking about?"
+
+"Nothing. About you, Harry."
+
+"Rubbish. What was he talking about?"
+
+"You, only you."
+
+"I can't see that that chap's so brilliant! It seems to me he's just
+like anybody else. And his work shows it too, really. No soul, no real
+heart in it. All from the outside."
+
+"Nonsense, Harry, nobody is more kind-hearted, more----"
+
+"Look here, Val, I won't have it. Do you hear?"
+
+"Have what, Harry?"
+
+He lowered his voice. "I won't have it. You must go back. It isn't that
+_I_ mind. But Romer will soon think it extraordinary, your sitting out
+alone so long."
+
+"No, he won't."
+
+"All right then, he won't. He must be an ass," said Harry angrily. "I
+don't know what he's thinking of. Hasn't he got eyes?"
+
+"Yes, of course he has."
+
+"And eyelids too," said Harry. "I dare say he pretends not to see that
+Vaughan admires you. Too indolent to bother about it."
+
+"Really. Harry--you go too far. Are you thinking of pointing it out?"
+
+She got up.
+
+"One second," said Harry pleadingly. "It's cruel of you to go now."
+
+"I thought you said we'd better get back?"
+
+"Your hands look so lovely by this light," he spoke in his softest
+voice.
+
+"We really must go."
+
+"Then at half-past three. I'll bring my sketchbook. Do you know where
+the key is? Perhaps you've lost it. You are so dreadfully careless." He
+now spoke in the tone of a reproving husband.
+
+"I've got it. Do you think we'd better? I'm rather tired. Shall you be
+able to wake?"
+
+Harry turned away.
+
+"All right, it doesn't matter, Val. I shall be going soon, and then----"
+
+She followed him quickly.
+
+"No, no, Harry. Of course."
+
+He gave her a grateful look. They joined the group on the little
+verandah in front of the house. Van Buren was sitting in the corner and
+seemed in the depths of depression. From the windows could be heard once
+more strains of music. Daphne was playing an accompaniment. Muir had
+again begun the song, and got a little further into it--"_It is not
+because thy heart is mine, mine only, mine alone._" But Vaughan came up
+promptly and stopped it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+SEEING THE SUN RISE
+
+
+What a delicate air there was in the garden! There had been a little
+rain in the night, but Valentia supposed it to be dew. Every little
+sound seemed the softest music, to the sound of which little dainty
+things seemed to be dancing in the air. The Green Gate, a red Georgian
+house, seen in the early glamour with all its blinds down, except one,
+seemed like a thing half asleep with one eye open.
+
+For a moment she was a little frightened. He was late. She had perhaps
+got up for nothing. But no, it was worth it. It was lovely here.
+
+Another eye of the house slowly opened, and soon Romeo, or Paolo, or
+Faust, appeared. True, he was disguised as a flannelled fool, with a
+sketch-book under his arm. But it _was_ Faust, or Romeo, or Paolo, all
+the same. He looked very handsome. The thought of scoring off other
+people in the house had raised his spirits and had even made him wake up
+in time. Valentia's conversation with Vaughan, whom she knew to be
+honest and believed to be brilliant, had left a certain insidious
+influence on her which would tell gradually, and yet their talk had had
+rather a contradictory effect for the moment. She wanted to prove to
+herself that he was wrong. And Harry felt that his time was growing
+short. Very soon he must put an end to it all.
+
+This thought made him more affectionate. It occurred to him for a moment
+that he would tell her in the orchard; but, of course, he didn't. Every
+day he thought he would tell her, and something always happened to
+prevent it. Besides, there would have to be a quarrel anyhow at the end,
+so why make it longer than necessary?
+
+They sat down under the cherry-tree.
+
+"Fancy you, Valentia, a minion of the moon, rising before dawn! Let me
+look at you. You fill me with wonder and joy."
+
+"Did you mind getting up _very_ much, Harry?"
+
+"It _was_ rather hard. Listen!... That's a thrush, making a scene with
+another thrush in the tree."
+
+"Is it? How do you know?"
+
+"Of course it is! How do _you_ know things? How did you know exactly
+what to wear, Val? I knew you had clothes for every possible occasion;
+but still, to choose the _exact_ right dress to put on to meet your
+cousin at dawn in the orchard seems--well, rather extraordinary. Pinkish
+blue--or is it bluish pink?--to match the sky. How jolly! It fastens in
+front."
+
+"Well, of course I couldn't expect Ogburn to get up in the middle of the
+night."
+
+"And no hatpins for once, thank goodness."
+
+"Well, if we _sat up_ till now I shouldn't be wearing a hat, should I?"
+
+"Don't argue. It's too early."
+
+"It isn't really early. It's very late."
+
+"Oh, Val! You're being logical."
+
+He took her hands and looked at them, and quoted--
+
+    "_They are pale with the pallor of ivories,
+    But they blush at the tips like a curved sea-shell._"
+
+"Oh, Harry!"
+
+He was thinking. He looked almost miserable. "I don't see--I must
+admit--how I shall ever be able to leave your hands!"
+
+She looked at him suspiciously.
+
+"Why should you? What do you mean?"
+
+"Nothing. I only meant I couldn't...."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"What's that?... Some one coming along the lawn."
+
+"Doesn't it sound curious?" she said--"so _rustly_!"
+
+"Who can it be? Surely your friend Vaughan couldn't get up at this
+hour."
+
+"Nonsense! Of course not. They're coming here." She jumped up.
+
+"Go and open the gate at once," said Harry, giving her the key. "I'll
+wait here a minute." While she obeyed he used a good deal of language.
+He now felt that he would give all he possessed to keep her there five
+minutes longer.
+
+"Fancy! It's Romer!" exclaimed Valentia. "He hasn't seen me yet."
+
+"Go to him at _once_. Tell him you got up to see the sun rise. I'll come
+directly and join you. Oh, confound it! _Do_ look sharp. Seem pleased to
+see him." He spoke in a harsh tone of command.
+
+She ran to meet Romer, saying jokingly, "Fancy meeting you!"
+
+"I thought you'd be here. I went to your room and found you were out.
+Thought I'd get up early."
+
+"I'm so glad. _Isn't_ it lovely and worth seeing here? Come and pick
+some fruit in the orchard."
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"Oh, _do_! Harry's devouring gooseberries. He's sketching the sky."
+
+"Why doesn't Harry come?" said Romer.
+
+He had no expression, and it was always impossible to guess by his
+looks or his tone what he was thinking or feeling, except when he
+smiled.
+
+"Here he is."
+
+Harry joined them.
+
+"Good gracious, old boy! Who in the world--! What on earth made you come
+out so early?"
+
+Romer now smiled and looked at Valentia admiringly.
+
+"Gardener's not up yet. Thought perhaps I'd mow the lawn," he said
+apologetically.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+"REPLY PAID"
+
+
+Valentia had been hurt at the tone in which Harry had given his orders,
+and turned from him to help to find the mowing-machine.
+
+"Doesn't she look jolly at sunrise? All that pink and mauve in the sky
+tones in so well. It seems to suit her. That's how she really should be
+painted," said Harry, in the tone of an artist admiring his model.
+"Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes," said Romer.
+
+"She looks like a golden rose," Harry went on. He wanted to please Val,
+who he saw was annoyed with him, and to emphasise the openness of his
+admiration to Romer. "Doesn't she?"
+
+"Quite," said her husband.
+
+Harry felt the morning was spoilt and the situation absurd. He could not
+bear to be thwarted in any way. He went back to his own room, bounced
+angrily on to his bed, and went to sleep again, after having seen
+Valentia through the window helping to push the mower, and saying to
+himself--
+
+"How like a woman! I shall go up to town with Van Buren and send a wire
+to Alec."
+
+This was his revenge.
+
+Their momentary fears about Romer were completely dissipated. He seemed
+exactly as usual. As a rule he was even-tempered. Not many people had
+seen him put out, though he could be very angry, except with Valentia.
+During this day he seemed, for him, a little irritable. Perhaps, Val
+thought, through getting up too early.
+
+Harry went up to town with Van Buren for the day, intending to return
+the same evening. He soon recovered himself in the course of copious
+confidences in the train. As soon as he had arrived in London he began
+to count the minutes before he should go back.
+
+Valentia expected the elder Mrs. Wyburn to lunch.
+
+"What shall we do with her to-day?" Val asked Daphne. "She must be kept
+in a good temper, because it's the last time she'll come down before
+going to Bournemouth. It's rather a pity they've all gone. Romer is sure
+to say the wrong thing to her--let out some trifle that we have been
+carefully concealing for months--praise up Harry, or something."
+
+"Doesn't she like Harry?"
+
+"Since he went to see her she likes him for herself, but not for me."
+
+"What cheek! But he's not here."
+
+"No, if he were she might like him again all right. Then, Romer talks
+too slowly for her. Her mind works quicker than his, and one can only
+deal with him by racing on in front, and turning round to beckon. With
+Mrs. Wyburn there are only two things that are any use--dash and
+volubility. It's difficult to keep the thing going when she's alone with
+us."
+
+"Well, why not pass the time this afternoon by returning the Campbells'
+visit, and take Mrs. Wyburn with us to 'The Angles'?" Daphne suggested.
+
+"Oh no! It's treating them almost like royalty to go so soon. And
+there's the Belgian man."
+
+"Doesn't she like Belgians then, Val?"
+
+"I've never asked her. Only, don't you see, it isn't that but the
+Belgian is what Harry calls a blighter--a beano-blighter; and so is Mrs.
+Wyburn, and it doesn't do to have two beano-blighters in the same
+party."
+
+"Ah, I see; they'd clash. What _is_ a beano-blighter exactly, Val?"
+
+"A person who blights beanos. Who makes every one a little
+uncomfortable, casts a gloom over entertainments--has to be taken in
+hand and dealt with separately from the others--doesn't blend, you
+know."
+
+"You mean some one who isn't the life and soul of the party?"
+
+"No, I don't. That's almost as bad in its way. In fact, the
+life-and-soul-of-the-party person casts almost as great a gloom on the
+rest as a blighter."
+
+"Oh dear! Yes, I see."
+
+"We must meet her at the station in the motor. I shall put on my blue
+serge and my plain sailor. She mustn't see me in the garden without a
+hat, nor in a real one. You do the same, Daphne."
+
+"But my sailor's too large in the head, and that makes it fall over my
+eyes, and that gives it a Frenchy look, like _L'Art et la Mode_,"
+protested Daphne.
+
+"Stuff it with paper. Here's the _Bystander_."
+
+"Oh, isn't it a pity? There's such a pretty picture of----"
+
+"Oh, don't bother."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn was gracious to-day, and all was going well when, about
+half-past five, a telegram, reply paid, was brought. It was addressed to
+Harry.
+
+"What shall we do?"
+
+"Why, keep it till he comes. He'll be back to dinner," Romer said.
+
+"Suppose it's something urgent," said Val, seeming a little agitated.
+"Don't you think perhaps we ought to open it? He won't mind."
+
+"You can't. It's addressed to Harry," said Romer.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn's quick eyes took in some signs of tension, but she
+continued giving them advice about the garden. She thought the flowers
+too florid, and was always a little shocked at the extravagant scent and
+exuberance of the roses. She seemed to think they should be kept more in
+their place--not allowed to climb all over the house, and romp or lean
+about the garden doing just what they liked. She had winced in the
+drawing-room, relented in the dining-room, and refrained, really, only
+in the kitchen, that she had insisted upon seeing. It was the only room
+to the decoration of which she gave whole-hearted praise and approval.
+The cooking at the Green Gate she admitted to be perfect, without
+pretension. In fact, she thought everything in the house a little
+overdone, except the mutton.
+
+"I can't think who that wire can be from," Val said several times to
+Daphne when her mother-in-law had gone. She meant that she could think.
+
+"Well, you'll know directly. Harry's arriving."
+
+Harry found it in the hall, and came in with it.
+
+"You open it for me," he said, giving it to Val.
+
+Since his last instructions to Alec he felt perfectly safe.
+
+She read--
+
+     "_Thousand thanks awfully bucked at letter at Queens' Hotel Cowes
+     for three days could you join us there wire reply fondest love and
+     kisses._
+
+                                                  _Johnson_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+GLADYS
+
+
+On arriving in London, Vaughan found his secretary with the usual
+heaps of letters. One envelope, addressed in a large and rather
+infantine hand, was put aside for him. The note ran--
+
+                                         "The Baldfaced Stag,
+                                              Edgware.
+
+     "Dear Mr. Vaughan,
+
+     "I eard only yesterday that the play you kindly sent me and mother
+     to was wrote by you, I call it a shame you didn't tell me before,
+     we saw the name on the programme, but never thought it could be the
+     same but yesterday mother saw a piece in the paper about you in the
+     weekly dispatch and she said it was the same, I'm sory I said the
+     people in the play went on silly I beg pardon for calling the play
+     silly I wouldnt have done it if Id known, so hope youre not angry,
+     they seemed to me to go on silly, but I dont reelly know much
+     about those kind of ladies and gentlemen, we saw the piece in the
+     paper only yesterday and mother said it was the same, we hope you
+     will soon come again to tea the calf is better believe me yours
+     truly
+
+                                      "GLADIS ADELAIDE BRILL."
+
+He instantly wrote back--
+
+     "Dear Miss Brill,
+
+     "I am _so_ relieved and thankful to hear the calf is better, all
+     the more because I had no idea it had been indisposed. I fancied,
+     though, it was looking a little pale the last time I had the
+     pleasure of meeting it in the field. Please don't think again of
+     your criticism. It gave me very great pleasure. You must think me
+     very foolish. You could say nothing that I would not like except to
+     ask me not to come and see you. I am very busy just now and so have
+     little time for afternoon calls, but will come one of these days
+     soon.
+
+                                          "Yours always,
+                                    "GILBERT HEREFORD VAUGHAN."
+
+
+
+He waited a moment, and then added--
+
+     "I will turn up to-morrow at four. Try not to forget me till then."
+
+For the rest of the day he was in high spirits. The letter seemed to
+keep him up through the various little bothers of the day. He had been
+going to France for the summer. He admitted to himself that this
+semi-flirtation was keeping him in England. He didn't like the idea of
+going away very long from the possibility of turning up at the
+"Bald-faced Stag."
+
+The explanation Harry gave about Johnson's telegram satisfied Valentia
+for the time, as he declined the invitation to Cowes, but the incident
+left an uneasy feeling in Val's mind. She could not bear to own to
+herself that he was deceiving her, and he hadn't the courage to give it
+away yet, not that he cared so very much about hurting her, but he was
+happier at the Green Gate than anywhere else. He liked the house, the
+atmosphere, and Romer; but what kept him most was, of course, that
+curious charm Valentia had for him, which was perhaps stronger than ever
+because he knew that the end was not far off. He often thought he was a
+fool not to have taken the opportunity to break it off on this occasion.
+He couldn't stand the idea of not seeing her, just because of the way
+her hair grew on her forehead! So low, and in such thick waves! Alec
+Walmer's hair, also fair, was thin and unmeaning. She had a low
+forehead, and yet the hair began high up. In the evening when it was
+carefully arranged, and the iron had entered into it, it looked like a
+stiff transformation, even worse than when left to nature.
+
+But of course, in spite of the reconciliation, a residue of mistrust
+remained, and on his side a sensation of restlessness which left him
+irritable; less amiable and pleasant than usual.
+
+They were sitting on the little terrace. He was smoking and reading the
+paper. He suddenly threw it down and said--
+
+"How quiet you are, Val! Why don't you talk?"
+
+"I don't think I've got anything to say."
+
+"You seem depressed," he said, rather aggressively.
+
+"I feel a little depressed."
+
+Harry gave expression to the usual injustice of the unfaithful.
+
+"What a mistake women make in being gloomy! How foolish it is. Shall I
+tell you the key of the whole situation between men and women?"
+
+"Do."
+
+"Well, dear, it's just--a _smile_. Never be dull, never be ill, never be
+depressed. Be gay--always gay. That's what men like--that's the one
+thing that they go out for and come in for--a smile."
+
+"Your ideal of a woman seems to be a Cheshire cat," she answered,
+looking rather amused. "Your motto is, like the man in _The Arcadians_:
+Always Merry and Bright. Well, I'm sure there's a good deal in it. But
+I'm not usually accused of being a dreary person."
+
+"Of course you're not; you're charming, lively, amusing, sympathetic.
+That's your great attraction, Val. But the last few days you seem rather
+to have lost it."
+
+"You can hardly resent my feeling a little down, Harry. One or two
+little things that have happened lately have made me anxious."
+
+"Never be anxious. You ought to trust, trust--always trust."
+
+"Oh, that's all very well! That wire...."
+
+"Are we going to have that all over again? I thought I'd explained." He
+assumed the air of a patient martyr.
+
+"I know you _explained_ all right. Well, I won't think about it any
+more. Don't be horrid, Harry.... Have you seen this week's _Punch_?
+There's something in it simply _too_ heavenly--such a joke! Let me read
+it to you."
+
+"It's very sweet of you--but do you ever realise----I wonder if it's
+ever struck you, Val, that men aren't always in the mood for heavenly
+jokes? There are times when one likes to think--to see life as it is--to
+discuss abstract things, even."
+
+"Oh! Well ... what do you think of Daphne's dress? Isn't it pretty? It
+was made by Ogburn, all out of nothing, in no time."
+
+He looked at Daphne, who was sitting under a tree reading Cyril's last
+letter over again.
+
+"It's all right. It suits _her_. I don't call _that_ a serious subject."
+
+"What subject would you like, then?"
+
+"Well--Romer, for instance. Where is he?"
+
+"Talking to the gardener about mowing. Do you want him? I'll call him if
+you like."
+
+"Dear Val, it's not quite like you to be ironical to _me_.... You ought
+not to laugh at Romer either. I'm complex, perhaps--I know I am; but it
+jars on me when you do that."
+
+She stared at him.
+
+"Look here--I know I'm tiresome," said Harry, returning to his usual
+caressing manner. "Don't take any notice of it. It's--the weather, I
+think, or want of exercise. I'll go and improvise a little."
+
+He pushed back his chair, and, with a parting look of forgiveness, he
+went into the house and began to improvise (rather dismally) a
+well-known funeral march. Or perhaps it was only a coincidence. Perhaps
+he would have thought of it if Chopin hadn't.
+
+Harry was only musical by fits and starts, and generally either to
+impress some one or because he was out of temper. Val never regarded it
+as a good sign when he grappled with the Steinway.
+
+In ten minutes he had grown tired of his mood of melody, and strolled
+into the rose garden with a book.
+
+Yes, certainly Harry was restless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE ANGLES
+
+
+"You're very quiet, Val," remarked Daphne, as they flew along in the
+motor on their way to call on the Prebendary's wife at The Angles.
+
+Both sisters wore little cottage bonnets, blue motor-veils, and large
+loose white coats with high collars.
+
+"How can I talk when we're exceeding the speed limit?" said Valentia.
+
+"You usually do. Is anything the matter?"
+
+"No, nothing at all.... Harry's been horrid lately."
+
+"I suppose he _is_ occasionally."
+
+"No, he's not. He's got the artistic temperament, and of course he can't
+always be the same, poor dear."
+
+"What a pity one can't be an artist without having the artistic
+temperament! It always seems to mean being late for meals, and losing
+your temper, or being amusing when every one wants to go to bed."
+
+"As a matter of fact," said Valentia, "I never knew any one with less of
+it than Harry. There isn't a more hard-headed business man in the world
+in his way, though he _has_ read poetry and plays the piano sometimes,
+and paints. He is an artist too ... but--well, not in any of the
+recognised arts.... I hear Miss Luscombe and Rathbone--I mean Mr. and
+Mrs. Rathbone--have gone to Oberammergau for their honeymoon."
+
+"Oh! Is that the latest thing to do?"
+
+"Of course not, Daphne, but she thinks it is. Miss Luscombe has spent
+her life in trying to catch the last omnibus and always just missing it,
+and she's not going to leave off now just because she happens to be
+married. Here we are!"
+
+The Prebendary's wife received them very graciously. Her waist looked
+longer than ever, and her skirt seemed more than usually abnormal in
+width. She did all that she could to entertain them. She showed them her
+son Garstin's map of Buckinghamshire, and then said--
+
+"I'll send for Mr. Stoendyck. He's upstairs inventing. You can't _think_
+how clever he is and how hard he works. It's really wonderful! We often
+leave him alone for hours to think things out, and sometimes he plays
+sonatas; he says it refreshes him. He really is an extraordinary man."
+
+Mr. Stoendyck came in, looking very martial and scientific and pleased
+with himself, as though he had just invented gunpowder. Mrs. Campbell
+began as usual to talk baby language, and play a kind of Dumb Crambo at
+him. He never seemed able to guess the word.
+
+"I hope we haven't interrupted you in your studies," said Val politely.
+
+"She say she ope she not interrupt. Work, you know. Oeuvre--Arbeit."
+
+"I was just amusing myself with the very witty paper from Germany,
+_Kladderadatsch_. It is very funny," he said.
+
+"It sounds funny," said Val sympathetically.
+
+"What I find in England is that you're all wonderfully serious,
+wonderfully courteous, wonderfully kind"--he bowed to his hostess; "but,
+you'll excuse my saying so, I don't find enough wit or lightness for my
+temperament. For humour I have to go to Belgium or Germany."
+
+He spoke with intense solemnity.
+
+Mrs. Campbell now began to translate him even to himself.
+
+"You say you like fun, wit--just fun to make laugh?" She made strange
+signs with her fingers.
+
+He did not appear to understand the code. He stared at her with a frown,
+and rasped on seriously--
+
+"I find a few comical jokes occasionally a great relief after my heavy
+work. It is very deep work."
+
+"I suppose it would be indiscreet to ask what the invention is?" said
+Valentia, smiling.
+
+"Not at all. There is nothing indiscreet whatever in your curiosity,
+Mrs. Wyburn."
+
+He took a scone covered with butter and swallowed it in an
+extraordinarily short time, and in an ingenious manner.
+
+"No, there's no indiscretion in the matter at all. Do not trouble
+yourself on that score. It is merely the natural interest that a
+cultivated and intellectual English lady would naturally take when she
+hears of an extraordinary invention from another country." He bowed, and
+having thus explained her to herself, he then ate another scone.
+
+"She say she want to know, you know," nodded Mrs. Campbell, putting up a
+playful and threatening finger with dignified coquetry and a stony
+smile. (She was subject to fits of this kind of marble archness
+unexpectedly.)
+
+"Yes. So I understood."
+
+The Belgian was looking at Daphne with distinct admiration. Of course
+Miss Campbell came and sat down beside him. Women always follow their
+instinct to come and sit on the other side of any man whom they regard
+as their property. They seem to think that merely by sitting on the
+other side they protect him from freebooters. As a matter of fact, it
+would be more sensible, if to distract his attention were the object, to
+sit opposite with some one else.
+
+Mr. Stoendyck turned his back on her completely, and said to Daphne--
+
+"Very charming, those motor-veils, and the whole costume. At the same
+time, while being thoroughly practical and sensible, it is, if I may say
+so, extremely becoming."
+
+He bowed with a condescending air, and went on--
+
+"The English young girl--at least, such specimens as I have seen in the
+neighbourhood, especially in the country--seems to me a wonderfully
+beautiful object. In Belgium we are getting on, but we have not reached,
+as yet, the point of freedom combined with modesty that you constantly
+see over here. Particularly, as I say, in rural districts."
+
+He then made what can only be described, vulgarly, as a distinct 'eye.'
+
+Both the Campbells looked uneasy.
+
+"The Prebendary will be in soon," said Mrs. Campbell. "He promised
+faithfully to come back to tea to-day. He also is a very busy man. He
+come in soon," she spoke reassuringly.
+
+Daphne was suddenly taken with a _fou rire_ and began to laugh
+helplessly. Val, seeing her condition, and knowing that when she once
+started there was no hope but in immediate flight, took leave.
+
+They were cordially asked to come again by Mrs. Campbell. But Mr.
+Stoendyck invited them to lunch, and wanted to fix a day and hour. Mrs.
+Campbell, however, declined his invitation for them. Mrs. Wyburn, she
+said, must have a great many engagements.
+
+They left Stoendyck standing in the hall, looking sentimental.
+
+"All foreigners not of the Latin race go on like that," said Val, as
+they drove back. "They may be scientific, or soldiers, philosophers, or
+musicians, but if they're Germans or Belgians or Austrians, or anything
+of that sort, they always get bowled over by a young girl, a blue
+ribbon, plumpness, or fair hair."
+
+"But I'm very thin and dark," said Daphne angrily.
+
+"I don't care if you are. You're a pretty girl, you're unmarried, you've
+got blue chiffon round your head--and there it is.... I don't mean
+Prussian officers, of course."
+
+"_They_ would appreciate _you_, I suppose you mean!"
+
+"One can't say. They'd probably take on anything."
+
+Valentia took out the little looking-glass from her motor-bag, looked at
+it, put it back, and added--
+
+"Anything possible, I mean."
+
+"Go on, Val."
+
+"Go on how?"
+
+"Telling me things. You're so interesting, you know such a lot. Now,
+about the Latin races--wouldn't they like--er--me?"
+
+"Of course they would. But they'd like you better if you were married to
+Cyril or any one. Frenchmen and Italians always want their love-making
+or flirtations to have something in it of the nature of a _score_. They
+love scoring off a third person, whoever it may be,--whether it's their
+friend's wife, or their wife's friend, or anything."
+
+"They're not sincere, then?"
+
+"Don't be silly. If they weren't sincere, why are there nothing but
+unwritten-law crimes all over France and Italy? And why do Parisians
+think and talk of ... nothing else! They're _sincere_ all right: it's
+their hobby. Italians, of course, are more jealous and faithful, and
+Parisians are frightfully vain--there's a good deal of a sort of
+snobbism about it. They love to show off. That's why they're so keen on
+dress."
+
+"Do you think," said Daphne, with sudden anxiety, "that if you don't
+dress to perfection you can't keep a man's love? I _do_ hope not! I mean
+because when I'm married to Cyril I shan't be able to afford to wear
+anything at all, except a clean blouse which I shall have to iron out
+myself, like in _Hearth and Home_."
+
+Valentia shook her head.
+
+"Dressing to perfection doesn't make men love you, silly. It only makes
+women hate you. And I never have yet seen the advantage of that."
+
+"Oh, then, do Parisians want other women to hate you?" asked Daphne. Her
+sister hesitated.
+
+"Sometimes. Very often they don't. They want you to be admired by other
+people, whoever they are, men or women. But in Paris dress counts in a
+different sort of way--it means more--it stands for more. Oh, don't
+bother!"
+
+"Well, give me a straightforward Englishman!" exclaimed Daphne.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" replied Val. "That Belgian Herr, anyhow, doesn't count. I
+can't think why Mrs. Preb. and Miss Campbell are so much in love with
+him."
+
+"Isn't it funny? Why do you think it is, Val?"
+
+"Perhaps it's because he's a man. You see, they're accustomed to
+curates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+AT EDGWARE
+
+
+Miss Brill had twisted up her hair and put on her Sunday dress to
+receive Vaughan.
+
+To harmonise with the Dickens's garden it ought to have been white
+muslin with flounces and a pink sash. But it was a quite long, dark blue
+Liberty satin, made by a smart dressmaker in the Finchley Road. It had a
+high collar, an Empire waist, and gathers.
+
+Her mother was delighted with it. Gladys had not been quite satisfied
+herself, and had tried to tie it in round the ankles with concealed
+string, to make it look more like a nobble skirt, as she called it.
+
+Her almost too abundant hair had been piled over a pad, which gave her
+the appearance of having a swollen head. Yet even so she looked lovely,
+rather like an old-fashioned picture in the Academy of _I'se Gan'ma_, or
+something of the kind, suggesting a baby disguised as a
+grown-up-person.
+
+Vaughan went through the usual ritual of asking after Mrs. Brill--he
+rather hurried Mr. Brill over his remark about the finest woman one
+would see in a day's march--then admired the weather, ordered tea, and
+asked for Miss Brill.
+
+Gladys came and sat down with a rather shy, self-conscious air.
+
+She soon lost it, however, and began to get natural again.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vaughan! I _never_ was more surprised than I was at that piece
+in the paper! And mother come over quite queer, she was so surprised.
+You were kind in your letter to forgive me for being rude. Who'd ever
+have thought you was clever?"
+
+"Who, indeed! But, Gladys, why this get-up? Why are you dressed up in
+satin and dark colours on a summer day?"
+
+"Why, mother said a nice navy blue was always useful. I'd rather have
+had a Cambridge blue myself. Mother says navy blue's so ladylike. Don't
+you like it?"
+
+"Charming. But I don't like what you've done to your hair."
+
+"Don't you, though? Fancy! Well, I don't seem to care much for it
+myself. It's a Pompadour, you know--a pad."
+
+"Take it off," said Vaughan.
+
+"Oh, I can't!"
+
+"All right, _I_ will. Come in the field."
+
+"Well, I don't mind if you do. I'll say I took my hair down because it
+was heavy."
+
+"You've tried to spoil yourself, but you haven't succeeded. Why did you
+do it, Gladys?"
+
+"Seeing you was clever, I thought pr'aps I'd better try to look more
+grown-up."
+
+"Ah! what a mistake! Your great charm is that you're such a regular
+J.F."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"A _jeune fille_."
+
+"What does that mean? What's a J.F. in English?"
+
+"A jolly flapper."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+In the field Vaughan, with several interruptions and reproaches for
+being a caution, managed to take the pad off her head and to throw it in
+the field. But an unfortunate thing happened. All the corn-coloured hair
+fell down over his face and he had kissed her--by accident--before he
+knew it.
+
+"Oh, I say! You are a caution!" was her only remark. But she did not
+laugh, and as she hastily did a little amateur coiffing, he thought she
+looked slightly annoyed. At any rate, she hadn't much more to say to
+him, and he went back to London almost immediately, feeling quite
+absurdly agitated about such an unimportant trifle.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+An hour later, when quietly at home in his study, Vaughan was suddenly
+seized by that species of madness that has been known to wreck careers, "to
+launch a thousand ships," to cause all kinds of chaos. It was that terrible
+_once-on-board-the-lugger-and-the-girl-is-mine-I-must-and-shall-possess-her_
+feeling in its most acute form. Most men have known it at some time in
+their lives. He thought of Harry de Freyne, and felt noble and superior
+in contrast to what _his_ conduct would have been, as he sat down and
+wrote with intense pleasure--
+
+     "Darling Gladys,
+
+     "I love you. Will you marry me? Please try. I'm writing to your
+     father. Don't keep me waiting long for the answer.
+
+                                            "Yours for always,
+                                                "GILLIE."
+
+He then wrote a long and sensible letter to Mr. Brill; all business,
+respect, and urgency, saying he knew that Gladys was very young, but
+that he would make her happy, and so forth.
+
+These two letters he sent off by express messenger in a taxicab to the
+"Bald-faced Stag," and then sat down to dinner.
+
+What a dinner! And what an evening he spent! He planned a long
+journey--what fun to show the child new places and things! Why shouldn't
+he marry the charming, refined, and beautiful daughter of an
+hotel-keeper? He decided even on alterations in the house, and he meant
+to be ecstatically happy.
+
+What did he care for people? He had never lived either to _épater_ the
+_bourgeois_ or to satisfy the ideal of the gentleman next door. He was
+going to do something _he_ liked!...
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+He woke up the next morning at six o'clock with a ghastly chilly horror
+on him. What had he done? Had he been mad? To marry Miss Brill, the
+daughter of the landlord of a little suburban public-house! A girl of
+sixteen, pretty enough certainly, but with no pretensions to being a
+lady, no possibility of having anything in common with him. But it
+wasn't so much the question of what people would say--of course, most of
+the women he knew would drop him, and the men would laugh at him and
+make love to her--but, how long would it last? How long would this
+strange mania endure? Perhaps not a week. The poor child would have an
+awful time, too. She was much happier as she was.
+
+Well! He was a sportsman, and had taken the risk. He must wait now. At
+the back of his mind he was wondering how he could get out of it.
+
+He had not to wait long. His letters were answered by the first post.
+Evidently, the "Bald-faced Stag" had been kept up late that night to
+reply in time.
+
+Gladys wrote very respectfully that she was very sorry she hadn't told
+him before, but she was privately engaged to the son of the landlord of
+the Green Man at Stanmore: the Eldest Son, she wrote with pride (as
+though he would inherit the title). She was awfully sorry. Besides, she
+was going to be a manicure, first, for two years, and then settle down
+at Stanmore. Her fiancé was twenty-one. She hoped Mr. Vaughan would come
+over to tea very soon, and she thought his letter was very kind, and
+remained his truly, Gladys Brill.
+
+Mr. Brill had written a long and slightly rambling letter which
+suggested rough copies and even some assistance from the old vintages of
+the "Bald-faced Stag." He refused most firmly, though thoroughly
+sensible of the honour done him by Mr. Vaughan's offer, but he couldn't
+go back on his word to his friend at the Green Man. The arrangement had
+been made, when Gladys and the son were in their cradles, by him and
+his pal of the Green Man and he couldn't go back on his word. And Gladys
+liked the young chap; and it was a great honour, indeed, that Mr.
+Vaughan had done them, and it would have been splendid for Gladys in the
+worldly sense. But there! it was better, perhaps, not to mix up
+Stations. Mr. Brill repeated this sentiment over and over again, always
+using a capital S for station--(as though Vaughan had expressed an
+insane desire to confuse Victoria with the Great Western). And he
+remained very respectfully, Tom Brill.
+
+"A manicure in Bond Street and then the landlady of a common country
+inn! Never! She shan't! I'll go down and persuade her. I'll make them
+come round."
+
+Vaughan was so hurt and disappointed that he felt he could never smile
+again.
+
+But he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+TENSION
+
+
+When the sisters came back from their drive Harry was sitting on the
+little marble terrace reading _Count Florio and Phillis K._ and smoking
+cigarettes. With almost conjugal unfairness he complained that Valentia
+always went out just before he arrived. In fact, he had begged her to
+get the visit over that afternoon, as he intended to be late.
+
+Valentia sat down and began a lively account of "The Angles," but he
+implored her not to describe those awful people at home, and
+particularly not to tell him anything about that poisonous Belgian. Then
+he told Val that blue didn't suit her, and, when she agreed with him,
+petulantly complained that she had no ideas of her own.
+
+"But I had an idea of my own; only now you say it's wrong."
+
+"So it is. But, even if it is wrong, you should stick to it. You should
+have more individuality."
+
+"What an awful word," she said.
+
+"What's the matter with the word?"
+
+"Nothing. It's so long."
+
+"You're talking nonsense, Valentia."
+
+"Well, why shouldn't I talk nonsense? I'm sure I've heard you say
+there's nothing so depressing as a woman with no nonsense about her."
+
+"I know. But there needn't be nothing else."
+
+"Harry, are you trying to quarrel? If so I'd better go away."
+
+"Oh, all right! Very well! Do as you like," said Harry. "It seems a
+curious way to treat a guest: to go out when you expect him, and then
+the moment you come in to make an excuse to leave him alone again. But
+please yourself!"
+
+He took up his book and turned away.
+
+Valentia went into the house, to her room, and sat down opposite the
+looking-glass with a sigh. It was at moments like these that she
+sometimes thought, with a slight reaction, of Romer. Romer was never
+capricious, never irritable, never trying. It was true that he rarely
+answered her except in monosyllables, but yet she knew that he delighted
+in and tacitly encouraged her fluency. He did not respond to every idea
+she expressed as Harry did (when Harry was in a good temper), but she
+knew she had no better audience. His extreme quietness might be
+admitted, occasionally, to cast a slight gloom, but negatively what
+enormous advantages his silence had! Romer never scolded, never laid
+down the law; never thought it necessary to give her long, minute,
+detailed accounts of his impressions of art, or life, or literature;
+never insisted on pointing out, as if it were a matter of life and
+death, precisely where he differed in his opinions of a book, a play, or
+an incident, from the criticisms in the daily papers. Nor did he refer
+to some annoying past incident half a dozen times a day as a sealed
+subject. He had other qualities. He could take tickets, he could sign
+cheques (and even seemed to like doing it). He could see about things.
+He wasn't selfish. Yes, Valentia thought, when she saw Harry at his
+worst, that perhaps she didn't really quite appreciate her husband. How
+irritating Harry would have been in that capacity!
+
+Daphne came in, and Valentia went on, as usual, with her thoughts aloud.
+
+"Wouldn't Harry be a maddening husband?" she said as she brushed out her
+hair.
+
+"Oh! Would he? In what way?"
+
+"He'd be so selfish, so obtrusive--he'd always want you to do exactly
+what he liked, just when he liked, and never when he didn't, or when you
+liked, I mean."
+
+"How could he like you to do what he liked when he didn't like? That
+would be expecting too much. I don't see what you mean, Val."
+
+"I only mean that when he's in a bad temper Harry's tiresome, and if he
+were married he'd be in one oftener."
+
+"Oh dear! Are most men bad-tempered when they're married, Val?"
+
+"Yes. Nearly always."
+
+"_What?_ Then, will Cyril ..."
+
+"Cyril's a pleasant, easy-going boy, but, as you won't have enough
+money, he's sure to be bad-tempered at times."
+
+"Then aren't married men bad-tempered when they have plenty of money,
+Val?"
+
+"Oh, if they have a great deal they're awfully bad-tempered, too;
+because, you see, then they lose it, or if they don't do that they're
+always trying to enjoy themselves with it and finding the enjoyment
+flat, and then they blame their wives. Besides, anyhow, having enough
+money leads to all sorts of complications."
+
+"Oh dear! Then what do you advise?" Daphne hung on Valentia's words,
+respecting her superior knowledge and experience.
+
+"Oh, I advise enough, anyhow. It can't make you happy, but it can avoid
+certain troubles. Love in a cottage is only all right for the week-end
+when you have a nice house in London as well, and a season ticket or a
+motor, and electric light and things, and a telephone. Oh, by the way,
+our telephone here is eating its head off. We never use it. Go and ring
+up to the grocer, not to forget to send the things, will you, dear? He's
+got a telephone, too--the only tradesman in the village who has."
+
+"What things isn't he to forget to send?"
+
+"How should I know?--the usual things. He never does forget, but it
+looks well to remind him, and the 'phone needs exercise."
+
+"All right. But before I go, Val--suppose you can't have the sort of
+love-in-a-cottage you mean, and there's no fear of your being so rich
+that it makes you miserable, what is the best thing to do?"
+
+"Why, I suppose the old business in the old novels, a competence with
+the man of your heart, would do all right."
+
+Daphne looked pleased.
+
+"For six months, anyhow. Or a year or two, perhaps," Val added.
+
+"Oh dear!" cried Daphne again, as she left the room.
+
+"Poor pet," Val murmured to herself. "I hope I'm not teaching her to be
+cynical."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+GOOD-BYE
+
+
+The only person in the family who did not thoroughly approve of Gladys's
+decision was her mother. Mrs. Brill thought it sheer madness to decline
+proposals of a 'gentleman from the West End,' as she called him; so
+clever and so rich, so handsome and so much in love. She was romantic
+and yet worldly in her views, and was much excited at the idea of the
+rivalry for her daughter. There were bitter scenes between Mr. and Mrs.
+Brill on the subject. Mr. Brill was not romantic nor worldly, but he was
+very sentimental, and he didn't hold with breaking his word to the Green
+Man, nor indeed with that mixing up of Stations to which he had already
+alluded.
+
+Between the opposing views of her parents Gladys became somewhat
+bewildered. She liked the son of the Green Man (he was in reality only a
+green boy, but good-looking, and she had always known him), and she
+wished to be loyal to him. Yet her mother's remarks about Mr. Vaughan
+began to appeal to her imagination, such as it was. She was rather
+dazzled and began to weaken. She was at the age when one can really be
+in love with anybody, and she was flattered. Though she felt she would
+feel more at home with her childhood's friend, she began, very slightly,
+to look down upon him when she compared him with Gillie.
+
+Vaughan came down the day after he had received her letter, and behaved
+precisely as usual.
+
+Mr. Brill, meeting him with a rather shamefaced air in the garden, said
+straightforwardly--
+
+"Very pleased indeed to see you, Mr. Vaughan. You got my letter, sir?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. To my sorrow. I want to talk to you about it."
+
+"Well, I was sorry to write it, sir, if you take my meaning. But there!
+Well, Mrs. Brill 'as expressed a wish for a few words with you, if you
+wouldn't mind."
+
+"I shall be delighted, of course. But--may I see Gladys?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir. Tea and bread and butter? The usual thing?"
+
+"Yes, please. As usual." Mr. Brill lingered.
+
+"Ave some watercress with it, sir," he added sympathetically, "or we've
+got some very nice little radishes. Ow about them?"
+
+Vaughan nearly laughed.
+
+"No, thank you! I'm afraid they wouldn't be any use to me, Mr. Brill."
+
+"Ha, ha! You will have your joke!"
+
+Mr. Brill went in and told his wife that Mr. Vaughan was "sitting there
+looking that miserable it was enough to make one's heart ache."
+
+With this satisfactory intelligence he sent Gladys into the garden.
+
+She was all blushes and shyness. Her hair had gone back into the long
+plait, and she wore her schoolgirl dress again.
+
+"You're too proud, Gladys!" he said reproachfully. "Why did you never
+tell me of your engagement?"
+
+"Why, I didn't ardly count it to interest you, Mr. Vaughan. Besides,
+it's not to be for two years."
+
+"Are you in love with him?"
+
+"Why, what a question! I _like_ him. He's a nice boy."
+
+"I suppose he's very much in love with you?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right."
+
+"That was a very cruel letter you wrote me, Gladys."
+
+"I was afraid you'd think it rude," she answered apologetically.
+
+"No, dear. It isn't rude to refuse a proposal. You can't accept them
+all, can you?"
+
+"You've made a wretched tea, Mr. Vaughan. Is there anything else you'd
+like?"
+
+"Yes, I want to go in the field again, like the day before yesterday."
+
+"Was it only the day before yesterday? So it was. A lot seems to ave
+appened since. Well, come along."
+
+She looked such an absolute child as she climbed the gate that Gillie
+felt almost ashamed of his proposal, and thought that probably her
+father was quite right.... But her face was so exactly like Sir Joshua
+Reynolds' angels' heads, she might have sat for them. She was too
+absurdly pretty. And sweet, too, he thought. She had no vulgar
+pretensions, she was simple. She only wanted a little polish. He could
+teach her everything necessary. No task could have been more
+congenial....
+
+"So you think I'm too old for you. Is that it?"
+
+"No, it isn't. It isn't that. It's what father told you."
+
+"Would you hate to go for a long journey with me, to see other places,
+other countries?"
+
+"Oh no; I'd like it. We went to Clacton last summer. It _was_ fun."
+
+He thought a little.
+
+"Gladys, as you're so young, won't you leave the whole thing in abeyance
+for a time?"
+
+"In what, did you say?"
+
+"Undecided. Let me come and talk to you about it in six months. The only
+thing I can't bear you to do is to be a manicure. I'm going to speak to
+your mother about it. I can't stand it."
+
+"Oh, why, Mr. Vaughan? I should have thought it was nice for me to sort
+of better myself."
+
+"Nonsense. Far better stay here. Well, will you agree to that?"
+
+"To give up the manicuring and to leave the engagement open like? Is
+that what you mean?"
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+She thought a minute.
+
+"I really don't see how I can. And--my boy would feel it something cruel
+if I put him off like that."
+
+"When do you see him?" he asked jealously.
+
+"Why, on Sundays. Only on Sundays."
+
+"Ah, that's why I've never seen him. I wondered why I'd never met my
+hated rival."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Oh, now, you're going on silly, like the people in the play!... I don't
+believe you alf mean it."
+
+"Don't you believe I love you?"
+
+"How can you? You don't ardly know me, except as a friend."
+
+"I'll tell you why I love you if you like, dearest."
+
+"Well, why?" She spoke with girlish curiosity.
+
+"Because you're lovely, and lovable, and sweet. Because you're a
+darling."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+"Doesn't your boy, as you call him, say these things to you?"
+
+"Not like that. I only see him on Sundays."
+
+"And does he kiss you on Sundays?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+Vaughan got up.
+
+"All right, I won't worry you any more.... I'll let you be happy in your
+own way, dear.... I must go now."
+
+"Oh, _must_ you?"
+
+She seemed very disappointed.
+
+"Yes, I'm going to France."
+
+"What, to-day?"
+
+"No, next week."
+
+"Oh, I am sorry."
+
+"Good-bye, dear."
+
+He went in and bid adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Brill and the "Bald-faced Stag"
+for ever. He said to her father that he was resigned.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+As soon as he had gone, Gladys went upstairs to her room, looked in the
+glass, then burst out crying.
+
+She had fallen in love with Gillie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+ROMER OVERHEARS
+
+
+Romer started to go by himself for a five-mile walk, leaving Daphne,
+Valentia and Harry in the garden, but a nail in his boot hurt so much
+that, after the first half-mile, Romer decided he couldn't stand it any
+longer, and would walk back, go quietly in, and then surprise them by
+coming to tea in the garden.
+
+He was gone a very short time, but he hastened his steps, looking
+forward immensely to the removal of the boot, and also to seeing
+Valentia again.
+
+Lately he had been more than ever devoted to her. Ever since they had
+been at the Green Gate she had been specially gentle and charming--but
+not nearly so lively as usual. Sometimes she looked quite anxious and
+preoccupied. He thought, too, that she was occasionally irritable; which
+was unlike her--and her spirits varied continually.
+
+He asked her one day what was the matter, and she assured him that
+there was nothing, so he believed her. But he was always thinking about
+her, trying to find some means to please her. He was dissatisfied about
+her.
+
+He came back, went into his room, and his spirits incalculably raised by
+the cessation of the torture, he went and sat by the window, and looked
+out at the lovely garden.
+
+It was a hot summer day; a little wind was in the trees.
+
+Exactly under the window, on the little verandah, sat Harry with
+Valentia. Daphne was no longer there.
+
+They were talking; and talking, it seemed to him, in an agitated way.
+
+Leaning a little over he could see Valentia on a bamboo chair. To his
+horror he saw that she was crying.
+
+Harry, speaking in a suppressed but rather angry voice, appeared to be
+trying to comfort her.
+
+Without a second's hesitation or a moment's scruple, Romer intently
+listened. He did not hide or draw behind the curtain. He remained in
+full view, in the window, so that they could see him easily if they
+happened to look up. But they did not; they were far too much
+preoccupied.... He heard Harry speaking volubly, saying, in a tone of
+irritated apology and explanation--
+
+"My dear girl, I do wish to heaven you wouldn't take it like that. I
+haven't changed--I never shall. I don't care two straws about Miss
+Walmer. But really, it is such a splendid chance for me! You ought no
+more to expect me to give it up than any other good business opportunity
+that might crop up."
+
+"I should never see you again," she answered, her voice broken by sobs.
+
+"Yes, you would. We should be the same as ever. You know we can't do
+without each other. You're part of my life."
+
+He spoke casually, but with irritation, as if mentioning a self-evident
+fact.
+
+"Oh yes, you say that," she answered sadly. "But nothing could alter the
+fact that you wish to be treacherous, and throw me over--and just for
+money! It's simply degrading. It's all nonsense to say it will be just
+the same!"
+
+"Well, of course--for a time--immediately after the marriage--it
+couldn't be; but it would gradually drift into very much the same."
+
+"It wouldn't, even if it could, because I should never see you again,"
+she repeated.
+
+Harry stood up with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised.
+
+Romer could see his face quite plainly, and wondered at its hard,
+selfish, almost cruel expression.
+
+"Well, if you won't you won't," he said. "How can I waste all my life
+dangling after a woman who is married to somebody else? I should be only
+too delighted--if I could afford it. But I can't, and that's the brutal
+truth. And then, you know, there has been a little talk. That
+mother-in-law of yours has been gossiping about us. Some day, Romer's
+bound to get hold of it, and then where shall we be? Don't you see,
+dear," he went on more gently, "this will stop all that? Wouldn't it be
+better for me to be married--just in this official sort of way--to
+remain in England, and be able to see you just the same as ever--very
+soon--than to go out to the colonies or somewhere, and never see you
+again at all? There's no doubt I've got to do something. I'm in a
+frightful hole. Seven thousand a year--a place in the country--and a
+decent sort of girl, dropped down on me, as it were, from heaven! I
+hadn't the slightest idea of such luck--and hadn't any pretensions to
+it. But the girl has taken a liking to me, and her mother wants to get
+her married. It's ugly--unromantic--but there are the facts. If you
+cared for me really, I shouldn't think you would want to stand in my
+way."
+
+"Very well, do it, then," she said, drying her eyes. "If you can speak
+in this heartless way it shows you are very different from what I
+believed you. But it will kill me; I shall never get over it."
+
+She was rushing away when Harry caught her hand and stopped her.
+
+"Listen," he said, in an impressive voice. "Go to your room, bathe your
+eyes, and calm yourself down. Make no more scenes, for heaven's sake,
+and we'll see what can be done."
+
+"Oh, Harry, really--_is_ there any hope? Or are you deceiving me again?"
+
+"I've almost agreed to it, you know," he said. "Still, there's not what
+one could call an actual engagement yet. At any rate, it might be
+delayed. I'll see; I'll think--really if I weren't so hard up I wouldn't
+do it."
+
+"Oh, Harry!" A gleam of joy came into her eyes, and she clasped her
+hands.
+
+"Then you won't worry me any more about it for the next few days?" he
+asked.
+
+"I promise;" and smiling sweetly through her tears she left him, going
+into the house. Her room, on the same floor as Romer's, was at the other
+end of the corridor, so she did not even pass his door, and had not the
+slightest idea that he was at home.
+
+He was still at the window, looking out apparently at the garden.
+
+Harry gave an impatient sigh, lit a cigarette and strolled off through
+the garden.
+
+It had been about three o'clock when Romer had come in and sat down by
+the window. He was still there in precisely the same position at seven,
+when his valet brought his hot water.
+
+But Romer could not dress and go down to dinner. He could not see them
+till he had made up his mind what to do. He always thought slowly, and
+now he was acutely anxious to make no mistake. He felt that by the
+slightest wrong move he might lose Valentia altogether. That, at least,
+was his instinctive dread. He sent Valentia a message that he had to go
+up to London to see his mother, and would be back the next day. He
+arranged that she did not get the message till he was driving to the
+station--just before dinner.
+
+He went up to London and stayed at an hotel, but did not go to his
+mother's, and thought nearly all night till he had made a resolution.
+Then he slept till nine o'clock, feeling much happier. He remembered
+clearly that Harry was coming to town and going to the studio on this
+day, as he often did. He calculated that he would be likely to arrive by
+the quick early morning train, and was standing waiting at the door of
+the studio at twelve o'clock when Harry drove up, looking intensely
+surprised, with hand outstretched, cordial and delighted.
+
+"My dear fellow, how jolly of you to remember I was coming up! Come in,
+come in! I've only got this bothering business to attend to, then we'll
+lunch together, and go back by the four train, shall we? You won't have
+to stop on here, will you?"
+
+"I don't know," said Romer, as he followed Harry.
+
+"Your mother's not ill, I hope," said Harry, throwing himself into an
+arm-chair.
+
+"I don't think so," said Romer; "she's at Bournemouth."
+
+"Bournemouth! How like her! But you haven't been down there to see her?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Don't think so."
+
+"Then it isn't your mother that brought you up to town, old chap?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Is anything wrong?" asked Harry, after a moment's pause.
+
+It struck him that Romer looked very odd, and as he noted a slightly
+greyish tinge in Romer's face, he turned pale himself under his becoming
+sunburn.
+
+"What is the matter?" repeated Harry, who could not be quiet. His
+weakness lay in the fact that he never, under any circumstances, could
+entirely "hold his tongue."
+
+Romer put down his stick and hat, which he had been holding, took a
+chair exactly opposite Harry, stared him in the face, and said in a dry,
+hard voice, much less slowly than usual--
+
+"There's something I wish you to do."
+
+"You wish me to----"
+
+"Yes. Write to Miss Walmer definitely breaking off your engagement."
+
+"My--engagement?"
+
+"I heard what you said yesterday afternoon. I came back from my
+walk--there was a nail in my boot. I heard every word from the window in
+my room."
+
+"You listened?"
+
+"Yes, I listened."
+
+"Romer, my dear fellow, I swear to you that ..."
+
+"Don't swear anything to me," said Romer quietly. "And don't dare to
+defend Valentia to me.... I advise you not."
+
+Harry was silent, utterly bewildered.
+
+"I find that your----friendship, instead of being a pleasure to her, is
+making her miserable. For some reason she likes to have you about. She
+doesn't wish you to marry Miss Walmer. Well, you shan't! Do you hear
+that? You shan't! You're not going to marry that girl and then come
+dangling about again."
+
+He waited a minute and then said--
+
+"Valentia's got to be happy. You're not going to have everything _you_
+want. You can surely make a little sacrifice to be her friend!" Then for
+one moment only Romer nearly lost his control. He said--
+
+"We've been married five years, and I've never said a word or done a
+thing that she didn't like. And _you_ made her cry. You! You made her
+cry!"
+
+"My dear Romer, I assure you it's all ..."
+
+Romer interrupted him in a low voice, impatiently.
+
+"Oh, shut up, will you? I want no talk or discussion. I want only one
+thing. You're to write immediately, definitely putting an end to this
+engagement. While you write the letter I'll wait, and then I'll post it
+myself. Will you do it?"
+
+"My dear fellow, of course I'll do anything. But how strange you are! I
+should have thought----"
+
+"I don't want to know what you would have thought, and I don't care a
+straw what you think of my attitude. On condition you do what I say, I
+shall never refer to the subject again, and everything shall be as it
+has been."
+
+Harry was obviously greatly relieved.
+
+"I will do whatever you wish," he said, looking and feeling ashamed of
+himself.
+
+Seeing that Romer was evidently in a hurry for the letter, he drew
+writing materials to him.
+
+Then Romer said--
+
+"One more thing. You are not to tell Valentia anything about this. She's
+not to know I overheard. I won't have her distressed. Remember that."
+
+"I give you my word of honour," said Harry.
+
+"Very well. And when I've posted the letter we'll wipe out the whole
+thing. Don't even say you saw me in town."
+
+"Of course I won't."
+
+As Harry bent his head low over the writing-table, Romer, who was
+sitting motionless, looked at a curious dagger that was hanging on the
+wall, with a horrible sudden longing to plunge it in Harry's neck....
+Horrified at his own fancy, he looked away from it and thought of
+Valentia. Valentia would smile and be happy now, and everything would go
+smoothly again. He would not have to say anything painful to her; she
+would never be uncomfortable in his presence. In time she would probably
+grow tired of Harry and could turn to him, Romer, again, with more
+affection than if anything painful had passed between them.... His
+attitude had been extraordinarily unselfish, and yet it had its root in
+the deep scheming selfishness and subtle calculation of the passion of
+love. To get Valentia back, as he vaguely hoped, some time, however
+distant, he had acted most wisely, and he knew it. For he cared for her
+far too much ever to have conventional thoughts on the subject. It never
+even occurred to him to try to act as the husband ought to act, or as by
+the incessant insidious influence of plays and novels most of us have
+been brought up to think he ought to act. Most people are far more
+guided than they know in their views of life by the artificial
+conventions of the theatre and of literature, or by tradition. In fact,
+most people are other people. Romer was himself. He thought simply for
+himself, like a child. And so it happened that he acted in a crisis
+terrible to him, more wisely for his own interest than the most
+sophisticated of men....
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+"Here is the letter. Will you read it?"
+
+Romer read it and put it back in the envelope. Then he said--
+
+"All right. You're going back to the Green Gate this afternoon?"
+
+"If I may."
+
+"I shall be back to-morrow," said Romer, in his ordinary voice.
+
+Harry accompanied him to the door and held out his hand.
+
+Romer hesitated a moment. Then he said--
+
+"Good-bye," with a nod, and went away, taking no notice of it.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+"By Jove!" said Harry, to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE LIMIT
+
+
+Romer went back to his hotel that evening feeling happier than he had
+ever expected to be again. He felt sure now that everything would be
+perfectly right. He refused to allow himself to dwell for a moment on
+possibilities, and on what had been, or on what might have been. But he
+was like a man who had been slightly stunned by a blow on the head and
+was beginning to feel the pain the next day. Yet the pain was not very
+acute; he did not quite realise it, but, unconsciously, it made him
+feverish. And he was still a little stupefied. It did not occur to him
+to go to the Club, or to look up any friends, and he remained in the
+little hotel in Jermyn Street, filled at this time of the year
+principally by Americans, and he dined alone there--dined well, and
+smoked a long cigar. Then he went for a walk. London at the beginning of
+August was not empty, but stale, crowded, untidy, hot--unlike itself. He
+tried not to think of the garden of the Green Gate. Suddenly, with a
+stab, he imagined Harry and Valentia; probably now he was telling her
+that the engagement was broken off, and she was smiling and happy. Well!
+it was what he wished. Since what had happened he felt his great love
+for Valentia was much less vivid than it had been. He cared for her more
+remotely. She seemed at a great distance. He thought that he felt more
+to her as if she were a dear sister and living far away. Yes, that was
+it; he loved her now like a sister.
+
+Surprised at his own calm, and much pleased with his behaviour in the
+matter, he retired to bed. The instant he had closed his eyes he seemed
+to see, with the clearness of an hallucination, Harry's head bending low
+over the writing-table, and, hanging above him on the wall of the
+studio, the curious dagger; a Japanese weapon that was one of Harry's
+treasures. And Romer felt again precisely the same horrible longing that
+he had felt that morning at the studio--the sudden longing to plunge it
+into Harry's neck. Horrified at the fancy and at himself, he turned up
+the light and tried to read. He could not fix his attention on a word of
+the article "Silk and Stuff" in the _Pall Mall_....
+
+Of course he was not angry with Valentia; how could she help it? She
+must be made happy. But she seemed dim, distant, remote. It was an
+effort to recall her face.... Harry--Harry did not seem very real to him
+either. It was all unreal. But he, Romer, had done the right thing.
+Harry would never make her cry again.
+
+Everything would go on as before. And _he_ had never said a word that it
+would be painful for them both to remember. There was nothing
+uncomfortable between them. He felt she would grow tired of Harry of her
+own accord, and would then return to him, Romer, with no disagreeable
+recollection of scenes, nor of their having said horrible things to one
+another. Yes, he had been quite right. Yet she did not seem to him so
+near as she used to be. He was not angry with her.... No, of course not.
+He was not jealous. Perhaps she seemed more remote, more distant,
+because he felt a certain coldness, and--yes--the coldness was there
+because he was a little hurt perhaps.... And then he tried to go to
+sleep again. But instantly his insane vision came back, and he got up
+and walked round the room and tried to banish it.... At last he really
+went to sleep, and awoke trembling with horror. He had had a horrible
+dream. He dreamt that Harry was writing a letter, and that he had taken
+the dagger from the wall of the studio and killed him. This was simply
+horrible.
+
+Then he began to realise the reason. It was subconscious jealousy. Then
+he saw that he had set himself a task too big for him, and that he could
+not endure to see Harry with Valentia now. It would be impossible to
+bear it. He would have to tell him to go. He had mistaken his own
+feelings. What he had heard on the verandah, what he had imagined, could
+never be obliterated. Indeed, he saw clearly that if he tried to endure
+it he would break down. The effort would lead to madness.--It was
+impossible.... He had sent Harry back to her! He had actually sent him;
+it was unbearable.
+
+He would go back the next day, take Harry aside, and tell him that he
+had found he couldn't bear it, and that on some pretext he must go away.
+He would tell him that he had reached the limit of his endurance and
+could bear no more. He would never speak of it to Valentia. Valentia
+would be sad--but that could not be helped. He knew, now, that he could
+not endure the sight of Harry again.
+
+Having made this resolution, he became much calmer. But the dream
+recurred each time he went to sleep until, in dread of it, he resolved
+to sleep no more. His nerves felt shattered.
+
+And then, he began to count the minutes till he could be back at the
+Green Gate. To see Valentia again and to banish Harry for ever! And all
+the obvious, human feelings that he thought he was free from had come
+back. He broke down; bitter tears of self-pity, of sentiment, and of
+heartbroken humiliation fell from his eyes. He remembered their
+engagement and their honeymoon, and then the eternal and everlasting
+amusing cousin; Harry, and his sickening good looks and ceaseless
+chatter. No more of it, by heaven! It would be something worth having
+lived for to have no more of the brilliant Harry. He saw now that he had
+always been subconsciously jealous of him--that he had always loathed
+and hated him. And rightly, by instinct; for not only had he done the
+most unpardonable injury one friend can do to another, without a scruple
+and without a hesitation, but he had shown the same baseness to her. He
+made her unhappy. He made her cry. He wanted to marry for money and come
+back again, treacherous to every one--hard, heartless, selfish, vulgar
+in mind and in attitude to life. Romer hated him.
+
+Well! Romer would tell him that very day that he had changed his mind
+and that he was to go anywhere--anyhow--only to go. Neither he nor
+Valentia should ever see him again.
+
+Valentia seemed a long way off. She seemed remote and distant. That was
+because he was still hurt and angry. When Harry had once gone, perhaps
+she would seem near again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+RECONCILIATION
+
+
+Romer had made one mistake in his calculations. He had forgotten that
+Harry was a talker. He fully believed that the young man would go back
+and get all possible credit from Valentia for breaking off the
+engagement, and would adhere to the very letter of their strange
+agreement. This, indeed, Harry fully intended to do. When he first went
+back he told her, to her immense joy and satisfaction, merely that he
+had broken it off. But when some people who had come to dinner had gone
+away and she and Harry could be alone, the habit of confidential gossip,
+the habit, especially, of impressing and surprising her, and, above all,
+the inability to keep to himself anything so amazing, was too strong for
+him.
+
+Picturesquely, vividly, and quite amusingly Harry told her every word of
+the story; first exacting a solemn promise not to repeat it.
+
+"Isn't he _impayable_? Isn't he a marvel? No, Valentia, don't look so
+grave, or I shall think you've lost your sense of humour."
+
+"But do you believe he really thinks----"
+
+"He doesn't think," said Harry, stopping her. "He won't think. You're
+faultless in his eyes. He would never allow himself to imagine you
+anything else. Valentia, this is a wonderful situation--you don't
+appreciate it! It's unheard of! He particularly wished that everything
+should go on as before."
+
+He took her hand. She immediately took it away and drew back coldly.
+
+"A wonderful situation! Do you think Van Buren will enjoy it?" she asked
+satirically.
+
+"Van Buren! What on earth do you mean, Val? Do you suppose for a minute
+that I'd talk about it?"
+
+"I know you will. You couldn't resist it. It's _impayable_ you say....
+Oh, but it was mean of you to tell me!"
+
+"Mean!" cried Harry indignantly. "Why, it was very generous! I might
+easily have pleased you very much more by saying I broke it off quite of
+my own accord."
+
+"That wasn't why you told me. You wanted me to laugh at Romer and think
+him ridiculous."
+
+"I don't at all. I was in the ridiculous position. Be a woman of the
+world, Val. Don't talk bosh! We shall soon forget it happened."
+
+"I shall never forget," she answered. "And things _can't_ go on as they
+were, because I think he's behaved magnificently, because I think he's
+heroic. And if I didn't appreciate the way he spared me I should be....
+Why, don't you realise what it must have been for him, Harry, to hear
+every word we said? And yet he didn't try to make me suffer for it!"
+
+"He complained that _I_ made you cry!" said Harry with a ghost of a
+smile.
+
+"Look here, Harry, it's no good. I see I was right about Romer from the
+first. I married him because I thought there was something
+remarkable--something finer than other people about him. And I was
+right."
+
+"If you talk like that, I shall know you're in love with him," said
+Harry tauntingly and angrily. "_I_ was a fool to tell you. You're just
+upset, my dear," he added, "at the idea of his knowing of the whole
+thing. By to-morrow, when he comes back, everything will have calmed
+down."
+
+"I want to be left alone," said Valentia.
+
+Harry was annoyed, for he himself was not just now in the mood for
+reverie, and even in the smallest things he disliked giving up his own
+wishes.
+
+"Oh, very well," he said ungraciously; "perhaps it's a pity I wrote the
+letter."
+
+"Perhaps it is," she answered as she went away and shut the door.
+
+Harry sat up late, swearing at his own indiscretion and the
+unaccountability of women. But he was not prepared for what followed.
+
+The next morning, as he was dressing, a note was given to him. It said--
+
+     "Dear Harry,
+
+     "After what you told me yesterday, I feel I never wish to see you
+     again. This is not anger; but it's incurable. I can't account for
+     it, but it is there. How you could have been so stupid as to think
+     I could remain with both you and Romer in the house with this
+     knowledge between us, I simply can't understand. How could I help
+     contrasting his generosity with your self-interested selfishness? I
+     am not angry any more about Miss Walmer. I'm quite indifferent. If
+     you married her to-morrow it would give me no pain. The only kind
+     thing you can do for me now, and the one thing I implore, is to go
+     away on any pretext you like and without seeing me again. To put it
+     perfectly plainly, Harry, I have changed entirely since last night.
+     I see everything differently. Everything _is_ different. Forgive
+     me, but I don't wish to see you any more.      "VALENTIA.
+
+     "P.S.--I will send your photographs and other things to the studio.
+     I should like you to burn mine, but do not send them back. I don't
+     want to look at anything that reminds me of you. Do not be angry--I
+     can't help it. I am so unhappy.
+
+                                                            V.
+
+     "If you don't go I know I shall be seriously ill."
+
+After reading this letter Harry was probably about a thousand times more
+in love with Valentia than he had ever been in his life. Indeed, he felt
+that he had never cared for her before. He pretended even to himself to
+laugh at it, and walked up and down his room, saying to himself: "What a
+couple! What a woman! What a man! They're unique. No, they're too
+wonderful!"
+
+But he didn't succeed in deceiving himself. He _knew_ that letter was
+final. He did not give it up at once. He wrote her three letters. The
+first, one of indignant reproach: "_You never really cared for me_," and
+so forth, which she did not answer; the second, witty and trivial, with
+allusions to mountains and molehills and tragedy queens; the third,
+desperately imploring her to see him once before he went away. To the
+third one she sent a reply, simply saying--
+
+"Please, please go as soon as possible."
+
+After all his emotion and passionate correspondence it was by this time
+only about half-past ten. Harry packed, dressed, and went off to the
+station, mad with rage. He left no word for Romer at all. He felt he had
+better leave all that to the wife. He had lost her absolutely and for
+ever--and Miss Walmer too.
+
+In prompt response to his wire Van Buren met him at the station.
+
+And what a wonderful consolation it was to tell him all about it!
+
+Certainly no man ever had a better audience; no one more impressed,
+shocked, delighted, horrified, amused, grieved, pleased and sympathetic
+ever listened to a confidence. For Van Buren it was as good as a _cause
+célèbre_, a musical comedy, a _feuilleton_ in the _Daily Mail_ and a
+series of snapshots from the homes of the upper classes--all in one.
+Never in his life had he heard anything so intensely English. The story
+gave him the acute, objective, artistic joy that one takes in the best
+literature, an intellectual pleasure that is usually more or less
+mingled with the merely spiteful satisfaction that we are accused of
+taking in the misfortunes of our best friends. And how well Harry told
+it!
+
+His style was perfect. It was brilliancy, charm, humour, and pathos; he
+laughed at himself, and yet made himself an object of real sympathy,
+without losing either his dignity or his dash.
+
+He knew that his confidence aroused enormous interest, and to him that
+was a great gratification. And so Harry drowned his sorrows in talk, as
+other men drown theirs in wine, or in sport, or in taking some violent
+step. He intoxicated and soothed himself with conversation.
+
+But Harry was not an unpractical man--not one of those for whom words
+take place of actions--and he could face facts. Valentia was irrevocably
+lost to him. To attempt to regain Miss Walmer, although it might perhaps
+not be impossible, would make him ridiculous. The letter he had written
+at Romer's dictation had been too definite. He would give himself away
+hopelessly as a fortune-hunter if he tried to go back on that. Besides,
+he was absolutely sick of it all, and if he was more in love with
+Valentia than he had ever supposed himself to be because she no longer
+wanted him, he disliked the thought of Miss Walmer far more than he ever
+had before, because he was convinced she would forgive him and be
+devoted to him even now.
+
+Van Buren had taken the knock, as he expressed it, using with relish the
+English slang phrase, with regard to Daphne, and he had made up his mind
+to return to New York. Under the circumstances he now had little
+difficulty in persuading Harry to come out with him right away. He
+undertook to provide for his friend's future, and that he should make a
+fortune in the Bank, and perhaps when this was agreed upon Van Buren
+had never been so happy. He was far more genuinely a man's man than was
+Harry. He regarded women from the point of view of the well-bred
+American--with deference, a sort of distant tenderness, a most
+chivalrous and gentle respect. He looked upon them as ornamental and as
+delightful adjuncts to life, like flowers in a ball-room, but not
+seriously as part of it. Nor, either, as mere toys. He placed women far
+more highly than Harry did; he thought everything should be done for
+them, given to them, that they had a right to any position they were
+able to hold, that they should be treated with reverence, consideration,
+liberality ... and even justice; but--he could do without them. Harry
+couldn't. And so they would always continue to fall in love with Harry,
+and to find Van Buren a little dull.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+When Romer arrived at the Green Gate that afternoon he found Valentia
+sitting alone in the drawing-room. Her hands were clasped, she had a
+serious, anxious, thoughtful expression that he had never seen before.
+He was surprised at the painful start it gave him to see her again, but
+he came in defying this sensation.
+
+"Hallo!" he said, in what he meant to be a perfectly easy manner.
+
+He glanced round the room.
+
+"Where's Harry?"
+
+"Harry's gone," said Valentia, in a low voice.
+
+"Oh, has he?"
+
+Romer walked to the window. He looked at her dress, a white dress that
+he liked, but did not meet her eyes. Then he said--
+
+"Oh, he's gone. When is he coming back?"
+
+"Never," she said.
+
+Romer didn't answer, nor ask why.
+
+After a minute he said--
+
+"Where's Daphne?"
+
+"Gone to stay with Mrs. Foster for a week."
+
+"Oh! Who's coming down to-day?"
+
+"Nobody. I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind--being alone, I mean." She
+spoke without her usual fluency.
+
+He stood staring out of the window into the quiet, damp garden. Then he
+turned slowly round and looked at her. He looked at her little feet in
+their little white laced shoes; at the slim, narrow line of the white
+dress; at the hands clasped in her lap....
+
+And he felt a sudden pang of cruel, realistic jealousy. But he looked at
+her eyes and saw tears in them, and, pitying her, he crushed it down for
+ever.
+
+The marvellous instinct with which women are usually credited seems too
+often to desert them on the only occasions when it would be of any real
+use. One would say it was there for trivialities only, since in a crisis
+they are usually dense, fatally doing the wrong thing. It is hardly too
+much to say that most domestic tragedies are caused by the feminine
+intuition of men and the want of it in women. Fortunately, Valentia's
+feeling of remorseful tenderness towards Romer enabled her to read him
+now. Of course she would have loved to cry, to explain at great length,
+to beg him to forgive her and have a reconciliation. But something told
+her that he could not have borne it; that the subject must never be
+touched; that she must spare him any reference to it--any scene.
+
+So she said nothing.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+And, during the curious silence, he gradually and slowly took in the
+soothing facts. He regained his sense of proportion, of perspective. He
+saw she was disillusioned about Harry; he felt that the infatuation was
+over; and, what was more, he realised, to his unutterable relief, that
+she was not going to talk about it. How he dreaded that terrible
+explicitness of women, their passion for tidying up, their love of
+labels! He would not even have to hear it called a sealed subject, and
+he would not have to say anything at all.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+He looked out of the window again, began to whistle in a slightly
+embarrassed way, and then said casually--
+
+"Let's come out, Val. The lawn wants mowing."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+The original spelling and punctuation were retained, except for
+a few issues that were believed to be typographical mistakes.
+
+The full list of corrections is as follows:
+
++------+--------------------+--------------------+-------------------+
+| page | original text      | corrected to       | explanation       |
++------+--------------------+--------------------+-------------------+
+|  15  | old-fashoned       | old-fashioned      | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+|  32  | ,old chap'         | 'old chap'         | comma corrected   |
+|      |                    |                    |   to single quote |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 142  | of colour          | off colour         | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 144  | CAPTER             | CHAPTER            | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 153  | darling.           | darling."          | Double quote      |
+|      |                    |                    | added.            |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 181  | on the 'thou.'"... | on the 'thou.'..." | The position of   |
+|      |                    |                    | ellipsis was      |
+|      |                    |                    | changed.          |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 201  | airdresser's       | hairdresser's      | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 220  | "Ha! musical,      | "Ha! Musical,      | Lowercase         |
+|      |                    |                    | corrected         |
+|      |                    |                    | to uppercase.     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 256  | Dicken's           | Dickens's          | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 273  | things to you?'    | things to you?"    | Single quote      |
+|      |                    |                    | corrected to      |
+|      |                    |                    | double quote.     |
++------+--------------------+--------------------+-------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Limit
+
+Author: Ada Leverson
+
+Release Date: March 31, 2009 [EBook #28465]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIMIT ***
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+Produced by Ewa Jaros, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
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+
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+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="tnote">
+<h2>Transcriber's Note</h2>
+
+<p>The original spelling and punctuation were retained,
+except for a few issues that were believed to be
+typographical mistakes. All the corrections are
+marked with a dashed line and the original text should
+appear on <ins class="ins" title="like this">hovering
+the mouse over it</ins>. The full list of corrections
+can be found <a href="#tnotes">at the end of this document</a>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="padding">
+<div class="padding">
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+<h1>THE LIMIT</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>ADA LEVERSON</h2>
+</div>
+<div class="padding">
+<p class="center noind">LONDON
+CHAPMAN &amp; HALL</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<div class="padding">
+<div class="padding">
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+<p class="center noind">Originally published 1911 by Grant Richards Ltd.<br />
+Reissued 1950 by arrangement with the Richards Press Ltd.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="padding">
+<p class="center noind">Printed by Br&uuml;der Rosenbaum, Vienna, Austria<br />
+Cat. No. 5085/4</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+<div class="padding">
+<div class="padding"><p class="center noind">TO
+ROBERT ROSS</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+<div class="clear"><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p></div>
+
+<div class="clear">&nbsp;</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+<div id="contents"><h2>CONTENTS</h2></div>
+
+<table summary="contents" class="contents-tbl">
+<tr><th class="left">Chapter</th><th>&nbsp;</th><th class="right">Page</th></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I">VALENTIA</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_II">HARRY</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_III">VAN BUREN</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">THE ELDER MRS. WYBURN</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_V">ROMER</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">HARRY'S ENTERTAINMENT</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">DAPHNE</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">IN FANCY DRESS</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">A CELEBRITY AT HOME</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr>
+
+
+<tr><td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_X">MISCHIEF</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">THE FRIENDS</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">A HOME CHAT</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">VALENTIA'S VISIT</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">A SUGGESTION</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">MISS WALMER</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">MRS. FOSTER</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">ENGAGED</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">AT THE CARLTON</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">AT MISS WESTBURY'S</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">A PROPOSAL</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">HEREFORD VAUGHAN</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">GILLIE INTERFERES</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">THE BALD-FACED STAG</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">THE GREEN GATE</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">A SUNDAY AFTERNOON</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">IN THE ROSE GARDEN</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">SEEING THE SUN RISE</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">"REPLY PAID"</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">GLADYS</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">"THE ANGLES"</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">AT EDGWARE</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">TENSION</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">GOOD-BYE</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">ROMER OVERHEARS</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">THE LIMIT</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI</a></td><td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">RECONCILIATION</a></td><td class="pg"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>VALENTIA</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Romer, are you listening?"</p>
+
+<p>"Valentia, do I ever do anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've almost decided and absolutely made
+up my mind that it will look ever so much
+better if you don't go with me to Harry's
+dinner after all."</p>
+
+<p>"Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. We two&mdash;you <i>and</i> I&mdash;always seem to
+make such an enormous family party! Of
+course, I know we have to go about in these huge
+batches sometimes&mdash;to your mother, and that
+sort of thing, but in this case it will look better
+not."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia made this rather ungracious suggestion,
+looking so pretty, so serious, and yet
+with such a conciliating smile that it would have
+been almost impossible for even the most touchy
+person to have been offended.</p>
+
+<p>The tall, significant-looking husband stopped
+in his stroll across the room.</p>
+
+<p>It was a charming room, with pale grey walls<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+and a pale green carpet, and very little in it
+except, let in as a panel, a delicate low-toned
+portrait of the mistress of the house, vaguely
+appearing through vaporous curtains, holding
+pale flowers, and painted with a rather mysterious
+effect by that talented young amateur, her
+cousin, Harry de Freyne. It had been his sole
+success in art, and had been exhibited at the
+Grafton Galleries under the name of The
+Gilded Lily. No one had ever known or was
+ever likely to know whether the title referred
+to the decorative, if botanically impossible,
+blossom in her hand, or to the golden hair of the
+seductive sitter.</p>
+
+<p>Romer Wyburn paused a moment&mdash;he always
+paused before speaking&mdash;and then said
+very slowly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Really? You think it will look better
+if I don't go with you?"</p>
+
+<p>He invariably spoke with the greatest deliberation,
+and with no expression whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, dear, I'm sure it would," she
+repeated coaxingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean if you go without me?"</p>
+
+<p>"What else can I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"It'll look better, you think; eh? Is that the
+idea?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>He sat down opposite the portrait, lighted a
+cigarette, and thought. Then he said with
+ruminating interest&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why. Why will it look so much
+better for me not to go with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Romer dear, really! It's one of those
+things that are almost impossible to explain.
+Oh, if you'd only do just what I advise&mdash;if
+you'd only <i>go</i> by me, and not want these long
+tedious explanations, how much better it would
+be! You see, Harry is giving this dinner <i>on
+purpose</i> so that Daphne shall meet Van Buren
+by accident. You know all about Van Buren, <i>the</i>
+Van Buren&mdash;the millionaire, who turns out to
+be a dear creature and quite charming! and has
+taken the <i>greatest</i> fancy to Harry, and clings on
+to him, and keeps on and on asking him to ask
+him to meet people. You must own it would be
+rather jolly for Daphne, because, of course, you
+can't <i>think</i> how he's run after&mdash;I mean Van
+Buren&mdash;and he isn't an ordinary American
+snob, and it really and truly isn't only his
+millionairishness, but he's a real person, and
+good-looking and nice as well; and though,
+Heaven knows, I'm as romantic as anybody&mdash;for
+myself&mdash;I wouldn't be so selfish as to be
+romantic for her too, and I can't help feeling it's
+our duty, being in the place of parents to her,
+to give the angel a sporting chance! Of course,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>the point is, Van Buren has told Harry he only
+likes nice English girls very well brought up,
+and he wants to settle down in England, and he
+thinks that any relation of Harry's must be perfect;
+and, naturally, I'm pleased. I feel exactly
+like a mother to Daphne, although she's only
+six years younger."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's all right. I see all that."</p>
+
+<p>Romer seemed rather bored, as men naturally
+are at a long catalogue of another man's
+advantages. "Now, look here. Why would it
+look better for me not to go?"</p>
+
+<p>There was some excuse for his insistence on
+this point, for in a superficial way Romer was
+very effective, fair and good-looking, well-made
+and distinguished; but the entire absence
+of all expression from his empty, regular face,
+and of all animation from his dry, colourless
+voice and manner, soon counteracted the
+effectiveness. Valentia often said that Romer
+should never do more than walk through a
+room or look in for a few minutes where there
+were other people&mdash;even at a club&mdash;and then
+go away immediately, when he would leave a
+striking impression. If he stayed longer he became
+alarming. His personality was so extraordinarily
+<i>nil</i> that it was quite oppressive.
+Obviously kind and not in the least pompous,
+yet his silence made him formidable, especially
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>to most of his wife's friends who, though they
+could hardly be reproached with want of pluck
+as a general rule, had one great fear in life&mdash;the
+fear of being bored. It was on this ground
+that they were all terrified of Romer.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think, Romer, if we both go it
+will look too marked? Almost as if we were
+vulgarly trying to get Daphne married? A
+horrid idea! Besides, if you don't turn up Harry
+can ask some one amusing in your place. You see,
+he's promised to show Van Buren <i>interesting</i>
+people.... No, darling, I don't mean it in that
+way. I'm sure you're interesting enough, but
+I mean queer people, and celebrities and things.
+That's what Van Buren wants, and that's what
+he must have. And that's one reason why he's
+so delighted with Harry, because Harry can get
+them all, through being a sort of artist, you see.
+What a good thing, after all, that he didn't
+drift into diplomacy! As he's an American you
+can't expect Van Buren to be really modern,
+and he has all the <a class="ins" href="#tnote_1"  name="tAnchor_1" title="old-fashoned">old-fashioned</a> ideas about
+what <i>he</i> calls culture. He wants to go in for
+being intellectual and artistic and knowing what
+he calls people with brains who really count.
+I mean he wants to meet people like Seymour
+Hicks and Waller, and Thomas Hardy, and so
+on, and not only celebrities and people who have
+made their name, but even people with a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>future, and, in fact, any peculiar, well-educated
+creatures&mdash;anything out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>Romer looked rather dazed.</p>
+
+<p>"Really? Then will Hicks or Hardy be asked
+in my place?"</p>
+
+<p>Valentia laughed. "Don't be so absurdly
+literal and hopelessly idiotic, darling! No, of
+course not. But I dare say Harry will get&mdash;well&mdash;perhaps
+Rathbone, the tattooed man, his
+Oxford friend."</p>
+
+<p>"Really! And will this chap's being tattooed
+make the party go off better?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, Romer dear; in a sort of way,
+because it makes him interesting, although you
+can't see it. When he was quite young he was
+always having lifelong passions for people, and
+being tattooed in their honour. He has blue
+chain bracelets with initials on his left wrist, and
+a heart and an anchor with other initials on
+his right arm, and a flight of swallows&mdash;oh, and
+goodness knows what! In fact, when you come
+to think of it Mr. Rathbone is really a kind of
+serial story&mdash;with illustrations. I wonder Lord
+Northcliffe doesn't bring him out in monthly
+parts!" She laughed again. "Harry might even
+get Hereford Vaughan, the man who has
+written all the plays that are going on now.
+Harry knows him quite well, and Van Buren
+would be so pleased."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>"Does Daphne want to many this American
+chap?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious, no! The idea! Why, she
+doesn't even know him!... Yes, of course she
+does, naturally."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>Romer, though he never by any chance
+smiled at his wife's careless irresponsible chatter,
+nor laughed at her trivial jests, took the deepest
+interest in them, and would listen, as if under a
+charm, by the hour, to subtleties and frivolities
+that one would never have imagined he would
+enjoy. Sometimes the faint shadow of a smile
+would illuminate his face like a cold ray of
+wintry moonlight, but that was when she had
+ceased speaking. The smile was the effect of
+having watched the sparkle of her grey eyes,
+the expression of her pretty mouth, and her
+brilliant, sunshiny grace.</p>
+
+<p>"It's very sweet of Harry," she said thoughtfully,
+"to do all this for me. It's all for me, or
+rather it's all for Daphne; he's so fond of
+Daphne."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? Why doesn't he marry her himself?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked surprised and blushed slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry? Why, he never marries!"</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't as a rule, I know," Romer admitted.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>"Then, why should he make an exception for
+Daphne? He's fond of her&mdash;of us&mdash;in fact,
+devoted&mdash;just like a brother. Not that I ever
+saw a devoted brother. Besides, Harry's made
+to be a bachelor, and he isn't well off enough
+to marry."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? Hard up? Poor chap! Never saw
+any sign of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Hard up? No; how like you! Of course, he
+has plenty of money, for <i>him</i>, but he spends it
+all, poor boy. Anyhow, of course, he's not really
+rich like Van Buren. It's on a totally different
+scale&mdash;a different sort of thing altogether. But,
+of course, Van Buren may not care for Daphne;
+people have such funny tastes; and not only
+that, but if he adores and worships the ground
+she treads on I shan't let her dream of marrying
+him unless she absolutely returns it&mdash;at least,
+unless she likes him fairly well."</p>
+
+<p>All this seemed to absorb Romer, and after a
+pause he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you'll get Daphne a new dress for
+Harry's beano?"</p>
+
+<p>Valentia smiled pityingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course, you would think that. No!
+Why, that would be <i>l'enfance de l'art</i>! First of
+all, Daphne looks ever so much better when
+she's dressed really simply, not the latest
+fashion; on the very verge of dowdiness! It
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>suits her&mdash;shows her off. It would be silly to
+dress her up like a doll or make her look <i>endimanch&eacute;e</i>
+on Thursday, or arranged and got up
+expensively, on purpose for Van Buren. I
+wouldn't, for instance, for anything, let her
+wear her new tulle dress from Armand! He'd
+see through it. Besides, I want her to contrast
+with me as if I'd taken any amount of trouble
+about my own appearance and none about hers.
+It'll make him pity her a little, and think how
+well she'd look in the sort of clothes he could
+give her. Besides, I myself am not going to be
+very smart&mdash;just tidy."</p>
+
+<p>"Paquin?"</p>
+
+<p>"How clever of you to guess! Well, now I
+must go and see Harry and hear all about the
+dinner, and tell him how sorry you are you
+can't come. And you're going to lunch at the
+Club, aren't you? And won't you go and dine
+with your mother on that evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"I may as well."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Do</i>, Romer dear! I can't bear you to neglect
+her, although I never think it's safe to let you
+dine with her without me. She always takes
+advantage of my absence to be horrid about
+me, and then you <i>will</i> defend me, although I've
+implored you not to heaps of times, and then
+you quarrel. If, this time, she says I'm frivolous
+and worldly and an utter fool and very deep, you
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>must agree with every word. I'm so fond of her,
+she's such a dear thing, it's too bad to worry her
+by contradicting her, and she has such a vile
+temper! Telephone and invite yourself&mdash;a pressing
+invitation, and give her my very best love."</p>
+
+<p>Romer promised all she asked and then went
+out to the Club.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia watched him through the window as
+he went. She thought he looked very well
+through a window, and ought by rights always
+to be seen in that way&mdash;as it were, under glass.
+She felt quite proud of him, of his smart
+appearance. In his way, he was an elaborate
+dandy, and spent years at his tailor's, slowly
+choosing the right thing. She remembered she
+had married him chiefly because of his fine
+presence and mysterious silence. She had
+thought at the time there must be so much at
+the back of it all, so much in him. He was in
+love with her and seemed difficult to understand.
+What could be more attractive? And now&mdash;well,
+he was ideally kind and good-natured.
+And she certainly felt sometimes that she
+couldn't even yet quite make him out. Then she
+gave a slight sigh, went to the door and called
+Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne came in, trimming a hat. She had
+lived with the Wyburns ever since their
+marriage five years ago, and Valentia, having
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>no children and a most passionately tender
+disposition&mdash;far too much natural affection to
+expend on Romer alone&mdash;lavished devotion on
+her sister. And Daphne was so nice and so
+pretty, almost as pretty as herself, in a satisfactorily
+different way. Valentia with her short
+straight features, grey eyes under dark brows,
+low forehead almost hidden by wavy fair hair,
+and a mouth curved and curled into subtle and
+complicated lines, was the type loved by Rossetti
+and Burne-Jones. She had a wonderful
+fair complexion, against which her long eyelashes
+showed, when she looked down, dark and
+effective, and though she was rather tall, slim
+and very modishly dressed, she never looked
+like a fashion-plate and had no air of being a
+mere mannequin for clothes, but seemed
+essentially real, with a suggestion in her personality
+of a beauty at once pagan and spiritual&mdash;the
+pagan predominating. Her pictorial
+appearance had no doubt made easier the artist's
+task, and the pale exquisite portrait had truly
+been described as a whispering likeness.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne, who was not quite eighteen, was a
+good deal taller, and more slender. She had
+dark brown eyes, smooth dark hair, parted in
+the middle, a rather bright colour and features
+of the classic type. Her chin was rather long,
+and she had a brilliant, sudden smile, and all
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>the attractive freshness and slight abruptness
+of her age, with an occasionally subdued air,
+caused by the shadow that had fallen on their
+youth by the death of their beautiful mother.
+Her gentle grace and touch of premeditated
+<i>na&iuml;vet&eacute;</i> made her charming. Beyond question
+she would be a great success.</p>
+
+<p>"Romer can't go on Thursday," Valentia
+said, taking the needle and hat out of her sister's
+hand and beginning to sew. "I must go and see
+Harry and tell him to get some one else. Really,
+Daphne, you go too far! It's all very well to be
+clever with your needle, but you needn't tear
+a Lewis hat to pieces and turn it inside out
+without asking my advice."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wasn't! I was only squashing in the
+brim and trying to make the hat smaller. It
+seems to have got larger since I put it away."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be perfectly absurd, darling. It's
+because you've been seeing smaller hats lately."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I see. Who's going instead of
+Romer?"</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know? We'll see."</p>
+
+<p>"It's just as you like, darling," said Daphne
+in her level voice; "but in case the American
+hates me, and I hate him, and Harry's talking
+to you all the time, and I'm frightened of the
+celebrities, isn't anything going to be done for
+me?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>"Of course not. What do you want? That
+Foster boy again? Don't look down and blush,
+it makes me sick. All right, perhaps, if there's
+room. He's a nice, decorative boy, but remember
+they don't dance at dinner, and that's the only
+thing he can do."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed it isn't!" cried Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very sorry to hear it. Suppose Foster's
+engaged, or at Aldershot?"</p>
+
+<p>"He won't be. It's too sweet of Romer not
+going. Did you marry him because you knew
+he would do whatever you told him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it was that so much," said
+Valentia, thoughtfully, trying on the hat in
+front of the glass. "I thought he was a strong
+silent man, a man with an orange up his sleeve,
+as it were. But I've never seen the orange."</p>
+
+<p>"How funny of you! I should hate a mysterious
+person. You don't want your husband to be
+a kind of conjurer."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do, as long as he doesn't wear a
+conjurer's evening dress. I like being surprised.
+Now let's go and surprise Harry at his studio;
+we must be quick, he's expecting us."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>HARRY</h3>
+
+
+<p>Harry de Freyne stood in his usual
+position, smoking a cigarette, and leaning
+a little forward, with his back to the mirror as
+if to resist the temptation of looking into it.
+The family good looks were acutely accentuated
+in this young man. He had the smooth, glossy
+dark hair, white teeth, and speaking dark grey
+eyes that women like; clearly-cut features, and
+the rather prominent chin, generally and
+mistakenly supposed to show strength of
+character. His pleasant, clean-shaven, slightly
+sunburnt face bore an expression of animation
+with a certain humorous anxiety natural in a
+man who was generally a good deal in debt and
+always a little in love. Further he had the
+advantage of a tall, strong yet supple figure,
+with a natural grace of movement and much
+personal charm. Harry knew he was good-looking
+and did not undervalue the fact, but
+regarded it solely as an asset, not as a private
+satisfaction. He regarded everything as an asset.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>He was no fop, although he wore a single
+eye-glass rather as a concession to some
+ideal of dandyism than as a help to clear
+vision. He could see remarkably well, with or
+without it.</p>
+
+<p>The long Empire mirror was placed above a
+delightful early English large open fireplace, in
+which burnt a Parisian-looking wood fire. Harry
+was the possessor of a fine&mdash;indeed, a magnificent
+studio, full of good old things, chiefly
+other people's, and bad new things, principally
+his own. The theory that all bad art is the result
+of sincere feeling was certainly not exemplified
+in his case. The portrait of his cousin that had
+been regarded as so full of promise was, as
+he always, said, the only decent piece of work
+he had ever done. He had been educated for
+diplomacy, and learnt eight languages, some of
+which he spoke fluently, and in all of which
+he could look with expression.</p>
+
+<p>The room was no mere exhibition of bric-&agrave;-brac,
+but was a cosy, shadowy, miscellaneous
+place, not without an ecclesiastical touch here
+and there. One felt every subject could be
+gone into there, from stockbroking to love, and
+that everything could be done there, whether
+it was praying, eating, singing, or flirting&mdash;everything
+except perhaps painting.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>When the servant announced Mrs. Wyburn
+and Miss de Freyne one might have fancied
+Harry looked slightly disappointed, but he
+greeted the pretty creatures with suitable
+effusion and high spirits.</p>
+
+<p>They both sat down rather carefully in the
+corner seats by the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Romer can't come, he's dining with his
+mother," announced Valentia. "He ought to,
+you know, now and then."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like her," said Daphne, "she abuses
+every one."</p>
+
+<p>"I know she does, but she's really not so bad,
+dear, all the same; there are many worse. She's
+rather spiteful, but warmhearted&mdash;awfully
+kind if you break your leg," said Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't break your leg," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sometimes you do. At any rate you
+might. Don't encourage Daphne to argue,
+Harry. Who did you say you'd ask instead if we
+couldn't get Romer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rathbone's just written to accept in his
+place," said Harry, taking out a letter. "But&mdash;don't
+you think we could persuade Romer if we
+tried hard? However, you know best."</p>
+
+<p>He took out a list. "Hereford Vaughan, Van
+Buren, Rathbone and me&mdash;that's four; you
+two, Lady Walmer, and Miss Luscombe, the
+actress. I think that'll do."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>"Lady Walmer?" repeated Valentia. "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"And a real actress!" murmured Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a real actress. She's walked on at all the
+principal theatres in London, and somebody's
+always going to take a theatre for her, but
+there's no danger. I told Van Buren that on the
+stage they think she's in society, and in society
+they believe she's on the stage. And he thinks
+it's real cute, and an extraordinary English
+type."</p>
+
+<p>"How are you getting on with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beautifully,&mdash;if he weren't so beastly intelligent
+and inquisitive. He always wants to
+know all the news and all the latest gossip.
+What do you think he asked me last night?
+Why Big Ben was called Big Ben! How on earth
+should I know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Big who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not big anybody;&mdash;the place, the thing;&mdash;the
+clock. He said no doubt I must think him
+dreadfully ignorant for not knowing, but he
+felt he must ask."</p>
+
+<p>Smiling at the recollection, Harry lighted
+another cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you say?" Daphne asked.</p>
+
+<p>"If it had been the afternoon I think I'd have
+taken the risk and told him I didn't know, but
+as it was the evening&mdash;he always gets rather
+excited in the evening after dinner and so much
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Perrier water,&mdash;walking back to the Ritz in the
+moonlight, and talking about London, I invented
+a long story.&mdash;No, he won't repeat it,
+don't be frightened; it was really rather awful;
+and when Van Buren gives you his word of
+honour not to tell a thing ..."</p>
+
+<p>"You're all right! That must be a great help,"
+said Valentia sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"It shows he has a nice loyal nature,"
+Daphne remarked. "I admire that sort of thing
+very much."</p>
+
+<p>"A nice loyal nature! I should think he has!
+He hates spreading scandal, and he wouldn't
+say a single word now to take away the
+character of Big Ben&mdash;if it was&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if it was ever so! You ought to make
+Daphne wear one of those thin tulle veils to
+match her hat. They're jolly&mdash;you can get
+them at that shop close to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she needn't, she's going to be manicured,
+and she's coming back here for me in a
+quarter of an hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, darling," said Daphne, standing
+up, and she made a kind of face, which Valentia
+understood to mean the word Foster.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the child playing at?" said Harry.
+"If you two have a code it would be as well to
+learn it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>"All right," said Valentia to Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>Harry walked with her to the door and she
+ran out, saying, "I won't be long."</p>
+
+<p>"She wants Foster, the baby Guardsman,"
+explained Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, why didn't you say so at first? Of course
+I suppose they've arranged it. At any rate it's
+as good as done. Then there must be one more
+woman. But never mind now."</p>
+
+<p>Harry sat down beside her and said, in a
+different voice&mdash;he had a very good voice,
+especially when he spoke caressingly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How interesting you are! One of your eyebrows
+is a little thicker than the other."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry!..."</p>
+
+<p>"How are we all going to get home that
+evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's like this, as you may say. We'll all
+meet at the Ritz and dine there. Good. Then we
+drive in separate vehicles to here, and have
+some music. Then I see you both home, and&mdash;well,
+I think that's all. It's not much."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite like the way Lady Walmer
+looks at you, Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Valentia! If it comes to that, how do you
+fondly imagine I shall like the way Rathbone is
+sure to look at you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry! Why, he's tattooed!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>"You see," went on Harry seriously, "I
+really am making a dash for it about Daphne.
+She'll really be happy with Van Buren, and <i>I</i>
+shall be ever so much happier,&mdash;with Van
+Buren and everyone else,&mdash;because, through
+Daphne being always with you, I never see you
+alone for one single second."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you exaggerate, Harry!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know I do. I don't see you for half a
+second."</p>
+
+<p>"Romer has been so nice lately," she answered
+gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Very amusing, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;I often think how very nice he really
+is."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't say that, even in fun. I'm coming
+to stay with you in the summer&mdash;at the Green
+Gate&mdash;unless you'd rather ask Rathbone instead."</p>
+
+<p>"Or unless you'd rather go yachting with the
+Walmers," she remarked. "They have a
+daughter, haven't they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Valentia, be anything but blasphemous!..."</p>
+
+<p>"Really?... Oh, Harry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say you need my saying it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, I will. Valentia, I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>She got up and opened the door so that
+Daphne should not have to ring when she
+returned.</p>
+
+<p>When the two sisters left a few minutes
+later, Harry sat down again as if in deep
+thought and lighted a cigarette. His servant
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, sir, Mr. Van Buren is at the
+telephone."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh well, tell him ... Oh no&mdash;, all right&mdash;I'll
+go."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>VAN BUREN</h3>
+
+
+<p>"It's extremely kind of you, Harry, to let
+me come around like this in the morning.
+I dare say you want to be working sometimes.
+I'm really afraid of being in the way, but I
+was rather at a loose end this morning and I
+wanted to have a talk with you," said Van
+Buren apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Rot. Awfully glad to see you, old chap.
+Have a cigarette?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, Harry, no. I find I'm very much
+better if I don't smoke till after tea.... We're
+intimate friends now, and yet you never call
+me anything but my surname, or <a class="ins" href="#tnote_2"  name="tAnchor_2" title=",old chap'">'old chap'</a>.
+That reminds me, there's a little request I'd
+like to make of you, Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Call me Matthew&mdash;no, call me plain Mat. It
+would give me real pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>Harry smiled rather loudly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, I couldn't call you plain
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>Mat. It wouldn't be suitable! You're too good-looking!"</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren smiled and shook his head. In its
+way it was a handsome head in the fair, clean-shaven
+American style, with shining blond hair.
+He had very broad shoulders, and a very thin waist,
+and that na&iuml;ve worldliness of air so captivating in
+many of his countrymen.</p>
+
+<p>Except that he wore a buttonhole of Parma
+violets, he was dressed in every particular
+exactly like Harry. But no one would have believed
+it&mdash;he looked so much better dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's your chaff, Harry. I'm not a Gibson
+man, and I don't pretend to be."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his hands, which were small and
+white, the finger-tips brilliantly polished, and
+said meditatively&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very much looking forward to meeting
+your cousin, Harry. I expect she's the ideal of
+a young English lady. Dark, did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather dark, and very pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a curious thing, Harry, that to me a broonette
+has always more fascination than a blonde.
+It seems&mdash;I may be wrong&mdash;as though there's
+more piquancy, more character."</p>
+
+<p>"I quite agree with you," said Harry. "Now
+the sister&mdash;the married one&mdash;is very fair."</p>
+
+<p>"And she's quite what you call a professional
+beauty, isn't she?" asked Van Buren with great
+relish.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>"My dear fellow, I don't call anyone a professional
+beauty, and you mustn't either. There's
+no such thing. I can't think how in America you
+get hold of these prehistoric phrases! The expression
+must have been dead long before either of
+us was born!... Still, she is a beauty all the
+same."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so? Mind you, Harry, there's something
+very attractive about a blonde, too. To me
+golden hair and blue eyes suggest gentleness and
+womanliness.... What is Mrs. Wyburn like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she's rather like an angel on a Christmas
+card, with her hair down&mdash;I mean she was,
+as a little girl," said Harry quickly. "Now she's
+considered like 'Love among the Roses' by
+Burne-Jones."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really mean that, Harry? Why, she
+must be more beautiful than Miss de Freyne!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't worry about her, if I were you,"
+Harry said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see she's got a husband," said
+Harry, looking at the ceiling as he puffed his
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"And a cousin," replied Van Buren with unexpected
+quickness. He then burst out laughing.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>"What do you mean?" asked Harry, not laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, I do beg of you to forgive my indiscretion.
+I'm afraid you'll think it shows great
+want of delicacy on my part. It was only meant
+for English chaff. Don't be angry, Harry." Van
+Buren was quite distressed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I know you painted her portrait,
+and if you <i>had</i> felt a little sentiment for her,
+who could blame you? Of course, I'm well aware
+that you're far too much a man of high principle
+to come any way between a woman and
+her husband, or even to let her know if you had
+a fancy in that direction.... I thoroughly do
+you justice there, Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"I regard them as sisters," answered Harry.</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren went to the window and stood
+looking out for a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they are sisters.... What a wonderful
+place your London is!" he said. "Now there's
+the sort of thing I never can understand, which
+has just happened. A lady called a taxicab. Just
+as it came up a man&mdash;at least I suppose he calls
+himself a man&mdash;opened the door. I thought he
+meant to help her in. No! He got in himself and
+drove away.&mdash;Now, Harry, how do you account
+for that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he could walk quicker," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>"It's the one fault I have to find with you
+Englishmen, Harry&mdash;the single fault. You're
+not gallant enough to the ladies. Nor is there, in
+my opinion, quite enough respect shown to
+them. I am always astonished, I admit, that
+they don't resent it. Why, in New York&mdash;&mdash;."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, they complain bitterly that
+there's too much respect shown to them already,"
+said Harry. "A little more, and they'd
+do without us altogether!"</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren laughed cheerily, and clapped
+Harry on the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"What a fellow you are for chaff! Now, will
+you come around and have lunch with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"When? Now? Thanks, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"That's real good, Harry," said Van Buren,
+his eyes sparkling with joy, "and we'll walk
+down Piccadilly together. I must say ..."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't feel we're real pals till you call me
+Mat!"</p>
+
+<p>Harry shivered ostentatiously.</p>
+
+<p>They went out, both laughing with great
+cordiality.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner Van Buren stopped to throw
+away his buttonhole. He saw they were not
+being worn.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ELDER MRS. WYBURN</h3>
+
+
+<p>Romer's mother usually received him with
+a sarcastic remark, such as "Oh, so you remember
+that I'm not dead yet?" or "I wonder
+you find time to come at all," or something of
+the same nature, calculated to cast a gloom over
+any visit.</p>
+
+<p>The widow of a rich brewer, Mrs. Wyburn
+lived in a bad-tempered looking old house in
+Curzon Street, with a harassed footman, a
+domineering maid, a cross cook, and other servants
+that were continually changing. She was
+one of those excellent housekeepers who spend
+most of their time "giving notice" and "taking
+up" characters. She nearly always wore a hard-looking
+black silk dress. She had parted black
+hair, long earrings, and a knot of rare old imitation
+lace at her throat. Eagerness, impatience,
+love of teasing and sharp wit were visible in her
+face to one who could read between the lines.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>But, notwithstanding this, as she had a soft
+heart and plenty of hard cash, she was not altogether
+unpopular. People enjoyed going to
+hear the nasty things she said about their friends.
+She had a real <i>succ&egrave;s de scandale</i> on her Wednesdays,
+notwithstanding the fact that a more
+highly respectable lady had never existed in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>She adored Romer, although his slow speech
+and long pauses often drove her to the very
+verge of violence.</p>
+
+<p>"Thought I'd look in," he remarked, rather
+heavily taking a seat in the dark drawing-room,
+and he proceeded by slow stages to tell her that
+he was coming to dinner on Thursday because
+Valentia was going out.</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a quick look, combined of
+motherly pride and annoyance.</p>
+
+<p>"Delighted, of course, dear. Who did you say
+was Valentia's hostess?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's going with Daphne. Harry's dinner.
+At some restaurant."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed!... Well, if you approve of
+these Bohemian arrangements it's not <i>my</i> business.
+I have my own opinion of Harry de
+Freyne; I always have had&mdash;and I shall keep it."</p>
+
+<p>"Do," said Romer, unconsciously epigrammatic.</p>
+
+<p>She waited a minute and then said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>"I don't wish to worry you, my dear ..."</p>
+
+<p>"No?"</p>
+
+<p>"... But I, personally, if I were a man ...
+perhaps I oughtn't to say it&mdash;if I saw my wife
+so much in the society of a person like Harry de
+Freyne&mdash;upon my word, I should begin to ask
+myself what were their relations!"</p>
+
+<p>"Cousins," said Romer.</p>
+
+<p>He began to tap his foot slowly against the
+rail of the chair, but remembered Valentia's
+constant advice, and decided he would not
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know your affairs best, dear. I'm
+only an interfering disagreeable old woman,
+who knows very little of modern customs and
+ways."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded sympathetically, without answering.</p>
+
+<p>"I love and admire Valentia&mdash;in many ways.
+She's so pretty, but not a mere doll! And we
+women&mdash;even the happiest of us&mdash;have to go
+through so much! Does she go through the
+housekeeping books herself, dear?" Mrs. Wyburn
+inquired, with dangerous sweetness.</p>
+
+<p>"Shouldn't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that seems rather a pity. Still, I'm just
+to every one, and I will say that she's not extravagant&mdash;but
+has so much cleverness that she
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>could manage very well on half the allowance
+you give her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that new&mdash;that china bird?" Romer asked,
+getting up to look at a strange, shiny, abnormal-looking
+parrot on a twig that adorned the
+mantelpiece.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like it?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems all right. Rather jolly."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Well, it's funny you haven't noticed it
+before. Considering it's been there all your life,
+and you used to play with it when you were
+four, it's odd it's escaped your notice. You
+played with it when you were four!" she repeated,
+growing rather heated.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I though?"</p>
+
+<p>"But things do escape your notice&mdash;that's
+just the point. I sometimes wish I didn't see so
+much myself."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I," he answered. "May I smoke,
+mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you may, dear. You may do anything
+on earth you like. Have some tea? <i>I</i> never have
+anything but China tea, so it won't do you any
+harm."</p>
+
+<p>"I hate China tea," he answered reflectively,
+after what seemed to his mother about half an
+hour's deep thought.</p>
+
+<p>... "But what I always have said about
+Valentia is that though we all admit, dear,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>that she has charming manners, is bright and
+amusing and very sweet&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Outwardly</i>, is there anything behind it all?
+Has she any depth?" She quickly answered her
+own question, "<i>I</i> think she has; a great deal. I
+believe Valentia is extremely clever in her own
+way; she turns <i>you</i> round her little finger. But
+that wouldn't matter so much&mdash;anything's
+better than quarrelling and snapping and finding
+fault continually&mdash;which is a thing I hate.
+But, really, there's one point I'm quite anxious
+about&mdash;in fact, I often lie awake the whole
+night&mdash;the entire night&mdash;and wake up in the
+morning utterly worn out through thinking
+about it, Romer dear. There's nothing like a
+mother's heart&mdash;and this does make me anxious,
+I own."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that she should ever be talked about!
+That she should be considered a flirt&mdash;and that
+sort of thing! I couldn't bear the idea of my
+son's wife having her name coupled with that
+of any young man&mdash;or any nonsense of that
+sort. It would be most painful to me. I'm sure
+I ask every one who knows her if anything of
+that kind is ever said."</p>
+
+<p>Romer threw away the cigarette and stood
+up.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>"What infernal rot!" he said, with a heightened
+colour.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes brightened with pleasure. She was
+delighted to have irritated him at last out of his
+calmness.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, perhaps I'm a little over-anxious.
+It's all love, all devotion to you, dear.
+Of course, people do talk. There's no doubt
+about that; but good gracious! we all know
+there's nothing in it. Don't we? Don't be cross
+with your poor old mother, Romer."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right. I must be off. Eight on
+Thursday, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>She kissed him affectionately, walked with
+him to the landing, where she kept him for
+about ten minutes complaining of the awful
+worry she had had about the under-housemaid,
+and of the sickening impossibility of getting a
+piano-tuner to attend to the instrument properly
+without making any sound.</p>
+
+<p>"For I'm a mass of nerves, my dear. Give my
+best love to dear Valentia."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>ROMER</h3>
+
+
+<p>Romer walked back, trying to throw off the
+irritating effect of his mother's pin-pricks.
+As was his usual custom when he was a little
+depressed, he went home and sat down in front
+of his wife's portrait. He often sat there for an
+hour when she was out, looking at it. Any one
+watching him would have thought he was in a
+state of calm and stupid content. In reality, he
+was worshipping. His passion for his wife was
+his one romance, his one interest, his one
+thought. He had been married five years, and
+had never yet expressed it in words. He was one
+of the unfortunate people who are not gifted
+with the power of expression, either in word or
+look. He was practically inarticulate.</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed at the picture&mdash;he was feeling a
+little sad&mdash;the sadness melted away. The frail
+figure, bright yet dim, vaguely appearing
+through vaporous curtains, holding an impossible
+gold flower, had the effect on him of a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>beautiful Madonna on a deeply devout Catholic.
+It produced in him a form of religious ecstasy.
+He adored her with passion, and with the
+selfishness and jealousy of passion, but circumstances
+and his temperament caused it to take
+the outward form, principally, of care for her
+happiness. When she was actually present, she
+still dazzled him so much that he could show
+his feeling only by listening to and agreeing
+with every word she said, by doing what she
+asked him, and by trying to protect her, often
+without her knowledge, from any kind of pain or
+trouble. She would have been amazed had she
+realised the violence of his devotion to her.
+Apparently cool and matter-of-fact, he was in
+reality a reticent fanatic. He neither analysed nor
+showed his sentiment, nor did he himself know its
+extent. He wondered why certain people, certain
+subjects gave him pain. He trusted Valentia
+absolutely, nor could she in his eyes do wrong,
+and it was only with the subconscious second
+sight of love that he sometimes felt a curious
+and melancholy presentiment. He did not know
+himself that this suffering was jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>What nonsense his mother talked!...</p>
+
+<p>Harry!... Harry was the best fellow in the
+world&mdash;almost like a brother, his greatest
+friend, though not exactly an intimate friend.
+Romer was too shy to be intimate with any one.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>Harry was lively, amusing, a brilliant talker;
+kind, good-natured, a capital chap. He appreciated
+Valentia, or he could not have painted
+that portrait. Romer was very grateful for the
+portrait; yet it sometimes hurt him to think
+Harry had painted it. It showed how well
+Harry understood Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>This thought Romer always suppressed. He
+thought it was mean, and he could not be mean.</p>
+
+<p>He looked out of the window. It was raining&mdash;a
+chilly spring shower&mdash;but there was a stir
+in the air, a rattle in the town, a sense of
+something that was going to happen; summer
+was not far off, and in the summer, at the end
+of the season, they would go down to the
+Green Gate, the lovely country house with the
+dream garden as Valentia called it, all built,
+planted, and arranged on purpose for her.
+Valentia was more herself at the Green Gate
+than anywhere else. Leisure suited her, and roses.</p>
+
+<p>Every year Romer silently counted the weeks
+until they went back there. It was where he
+was happiest. Of course, they were not alone.
+Dear little Daphne was always with them, dear
+little thing (she was nearly six feet high)&mdash;and
+other people, very often, and Harry&mdash;always
+Harry. Perhaps Daphne would marry soon, but
+what about Harry?</p>
+
+<p>Romer felt rather wearied when he remembered
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>Valentia had said Harry was made to be
+a bachelor. Was he tired of Harry? Not a bit!
+Harry was a capital chap; besides, he didn't see
+so very much of him in London.</p>
+
+<p>Heaps of people admired Valentia, and that
+did not annoy Romer at all (though it did not
+please him particularly), but he knew, again
+subconsciously, that Valentia cared less than
+nothing for any admirers, but she certainly was
+awfully fond of Harry. And no wonder! Harry
+was the best fellow in the world&mdash;lively,
+amusing, quite a brilliant talker; kind, good
+natured, and he appreciated Valentia, or he
+could not have painted that portrait....</p>
+
+<p>Round and round the same thoughts passed
+through his brain.</p>
+
+<p>It was raining&mdash;a chilly spring shower. Had
+Valentia got her wrap with her?</p>
+
+<p>He got up, went into the hall, and saw her
+fur cloak hanging on a peg.</p>
+
+<p>She evidently didn't care for it. She was tired
+of it&mdash;perhaps it was out of fashion; if so, she
+would never wear it. She might catch cold.</p>
+
+<p>He was not a prompt man, but he went at once
+to the telephone and gave orders to a shop in Bond
+Street that would result in a collection of fur-lined
+cloaks being sent for her choice that evening. This
+would please her; she would smile and try them
+on. Besides, it would prevent her catching cold.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>HARRY'S ENTERTAINMENT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Van Buren, who was a business man,
+was an idealist; while Harry de Freyne,
+the artist&mdash;was, emphatically, not.</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren had been brought up on Thackeray
+and Dickens, above all on old pictures from
+<i>Punch</i>; Du Maurier's drawings enjoyed at an
+early age had made him romantic about everything
+connected with London. As soon as he
+was able to leave his bank in New York&mdash;in
+fact, the moment he had retired from business&mdash;he
+had realised his dream and come to live
+in London. And Harry seemed to him the incarnation
+of everything delightfully, amusingly
+English. He had a real hero-worship for Harry,
+who was so astonishingly clever as well. Van
+Buren was not a snobbish Anglomaniac, at least
+his snobbishness was not of the common quality
+nor about the obvious things; he was a little
+ashamed of his money, but he did not worship
+rank and titles; it was Intellect&mdash;but Intellect
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>that had the stamp of fashion&mdash;that held a
+glamour for him. So did everything that he
+supposed to be modern, previous, and up-to-date.
+No one could ever, whether in New York
+or in London, have been in life less modern
+than poor Van Buren, though he was eminently
+contemporary and perhaps even in
+advance in matters connected with business.
+For business he had genius, and yet, curiously,
+no passion; he was unconsciously brilliant on
+the subject; it was hereditary. But in his innermost
+heart he believed that it was vulgar to be
+an American millionaire! And he had a childish
+horror of vulgarity, and an innocent belief that
+an Englishman who had been to Eton and
+Oxford and who was <i>dans le mouvement</i>, smart
+and good-looking, and had deserted diplomacy
+for art, must of necessity be refined, superior,
+cultured, everything that Van Buren wanted
+to be.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he soon found out that Harry was
+frightfully hard up, and in the most delicate
+manner imaginable&mdash;a delicacy rather wasted
+on his friend&mdash;implored, as a special favour,
+to be allowed to be his banker. But Harry had
+refused, having vague ideas of much more
+important extent than a mere loan with regard
+to making Van Buren useful. He had thus
+gone up in his friend's estimation, at the same
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>time placing him under a great and deeply felt
+obligation by gratifying his fancy for knowing
+clever people and celebrities.</p>
+
+<p>At last the friendship had culminated in
+Harry's suggestion of a marriage between his
+young cousin, Daphne, and Van Buren. Harry
+felt that if he could compass this arrangement
+he would at one stroke give fortune to Daphne,
+freedom to himself&mdash;the child was very much
+in his way in Valentia's house&mdash;and make Van
+Buren eternally grateful.</p>
+
+<p>Harry really liked Van Buren and respected
+him; he regarded him as touching, but also,
+at times, as a menace. A shadow sometimes
+came over their friendship, the alarming shadow
+of the future bore. What was now to his
+cynical mind screamingly funny about the
+American&mdash;his sensitive delicate feelings, his
+high standard of morals with regard to what he
+called the ladies, and illusions that one would
+rarely find in London in a girl of seventeen,
+might some day develop into priggishness and
+tediousness, and&mdash;especially&mdash;would take up
+too much time. For since Harry had been intimate
+with Van Buren he had discovered that
+the tradition of American hustling was, like
+most traditions, a fiction. Americans always
+have time; Englishmen never. The leisurely
+way in which Van Buren talked was an example
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>of this&mdash;it was the way he thought; his brain
+worked slowly. Harry and his like have no time
+to drawl; they have to keep appointments.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening of the Ritz dinner-party
+Harry was not in a particularly good temper,
+and thought to himself he was rather like a
+Barnum as he introduced his guests one by one
+to the modest millionaire, who said to them all,
+"Pleased to meet you", and fixed his admiring
+glance with a sentimental respect on Daphne,
+an undisguised admiration on Valentia, and
+an almost morbid curiosity on Miss Luscombe,
+the first actress he had ever met.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe was a conventional, rather
+untidy-looking creature, very handsome, with
+loose hair parted and waved over her ears, and
+with apparently no design or general idea
+either in her dress or manner. She varied from
+minute to minute from being what she thought
+theatrical to appearing what she supposed to be
+social. She evidently hadn't settled on her pose,
+always a disastrous moment for a natural
+woman who wishes to be artificial. Practically
+she always wore evening dress except in the
+evening, so while at her own flat in the afternoon
+she was photographed in a <i>d&eacute;collet&eacute;e</i> tea-gown,
+this evening she was dressed as if for
+Ascot, except for the hat, with an emaciated
+feather boa and a tired embroidered <i>cr&ecirc;pe de
+Chine</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> scarf thrown over her shoulders, also a
+fan, long gloves, and a rose in her hair by way
+of hedging. To these ornaments she added a
+cold, of which she complained as soon as she
+saw the other guests. But no one listened. No
+one ever listened to Miss Luscombe, no one
+ever could, and yet in a way she was popular&mdash;a
+kind of pet among a rather large circle of people.
+Women never disliked her because she created
+no jealousy and always unconsciously put herself
+at a disadvantage; men did not mind her
+prattle and coquettish airs, being well aware
+that nothing was expected of them. For Miss
+Luscombe, though vain, was a pessimist, and
+quite good-natured. She was also a standing
+joke.</p>
+
+<p>The other guests besides Valentia in yellow
+and Daphne in pink&mdash;both looking as fresh as
+daisies and as civilised as orchids&mdash;consisted of
+Lady Walmer, a smart, good-looking, commonplace
+woman, rather fatter than she wished to
+be, but very straight-fronted, straightforward,
+and sporting, with dark red hair and splendid
+jewels; a faded yet powerful beauty who had
+been admired in the eighties, but had only had
+real success since she turned forty-six.</p>
+
+<p>With her was her daughter, a girl who at the
+first glance looked eight feet high, but who really
+was not very much above the average length.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>She was a splendid athlete, and her talk was
+principally of hockey. She wore a very smart
+white dress and had a dark brown neck, pretty
+fair hair, and an entirely unaffected bonhomie
+that quite carried off the harshness of her want
+of style or charm&mdash;in fact it had a charm of its
+own. Besides, it was well known that her
+grandmother had left her an estate in the
+country and &pound; 7000 a year, and that Lady
+Walmer was anxious to get her married. Hence
+Miss Walmer never wanted for partners at balls
+nor for attention anywhere, but&mdash;it was always
+for <i>le bon motif</i>. As Valentia said, she was the
+sort of girl (poor girl!) that one could only marry.</p>
+
+<p>Hereford Vaughan, who was an object of
+considerable curiosity to several of the guests on
+account of his phenomenal success in having
+eleven plays at the same time being performed
+in London, New York, Berlin, Paris, and every
+other European city, was, to those who did not
+know him before, an agreeable surprise. Heaven
+knows what exactly people expected of him; perhaps
+the men feared 'side' and the women that
+he would be overpowering after so many
+triumphs, but he was merely a rather pale, dark,
+and rather handsome young man. He behaved
+like anybody else, except that perhaps his manner
+was a little quieter than the average. Unless
+one was very observant (which one isn't), or
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>unless one listened to what he said, he did
+not at first appear too alarmingly clever. He had
+one or two characteristics which must have at
+times led to misunderstandings. One was that
+whatever or whoever he looked at, his dark
+opaque eyes were so full of vivid expression that
+women often mistook for admiration what was
+often merely observation. For instance, when he
+glanced at Lady Walmer she at once became
+quite confused, and intensely flattered, nearly
+blushed and asked him to dinner. While, if she
+had but known, behind that dark glance was
+merely the thought, "So that's the woman that
+Royalty ... What extraordinary taste!"</p>
+
+<p>Hereford Vaughan, who was himself thirty-four,
+did not share in the modern taste for the
+battered as a charm in itself, though he could
+forgive it&mdash;or, indeed, anything else&mdash;if he were
+amused.</p>
+
+<p>Knowing that Miss Luscombe, hoping for a
+part, would be painfully nice to Vaughan, Harry
+had good-naturedly placed them as far apart
+as possible. Nevertheless she leaned across the
+table and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How <i>do</i> you think of all these clever things,
+Mr. Vaughan? I can't think how you do it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, we'd all like to know that,"
+said Captain Foster, the baby Guardsman, as
+Valentia called him. He spoke enviously. He was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>a perfectly beautiful blond, delightfully stupid,
+and had been longing for enough money to
+marry somebody ever since he was seventeen.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I'd jolly soon write a play if I only
+knew how."</p>
+
+<p>"It's perfectly easy, really," said Vaughan;
+"it's just a knack."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it though?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you get the things taken?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's a mere fluke&mdash;a bit of luck," said
+Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>Every one who heard this sighed with relief to
+think that was how he regarded it.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan always used this exaggerated modesty
+as an armour against envy, for envy, as
+a rule, is of success rather than of merit. No one
+would have objected to his talent deserving
+recognition&mdash;only to his getting it.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what do you think of Miss Luscombe?"
+Valentia asked the dramatist.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think of her. I never regard people on
+the stage as real people," Vaughan answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you, really? Well, you ought to know.
+You have made a sort of corner in 'leading
+ladies'. What curious clothes she wears!"</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't she? On the stage she dresses like an
+actress, and off the stage she doesn't dress like a
+lady. She's so extraordinarily vague," he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>"Yes; and yet I've heard that, though she's
+so dreamy and romantic, she's quite wonderfully
+practical, really. She never accepts an engagement
+unless she gets a large salary&mdash;and all that
+sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. She lives in the clouds, but she insists
+on their having a silver lining," said Vaughan.
+"Who's the pink young man she's confiding in
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's Mr. Rathbone. He likes theatres&mdash;at
+least he collects programmes and posters, I think.
+Besides, he's tattooed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes. That must be a great help in listening
+to Miss Luscombe. He's been trained to
+suffer."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe was talking rather loudly and
+most confidentially to Rathbone, who had an
+expression of willing&mdash;but agonised&mdash;martyrdom
+on his fair pink, clean-shaven features.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>told</i> dear George Alexander that I would
+have been only <i>too</i> pleased to understudy Irene
+in the new piece&mdash;in fact, it would have just
+suited me, Mr. Rathbone, and left me plenty of
+time for my social engagements too. Besides, if I
+once got a chance of a part like that I feel I should
+have made a hit. Oh, it was a cruel disappointment!
+After being too charming to me&mdash;or, at
+any rate, I was charming to him at the Cashmores'
+reception, you know&mdash;I remember he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>was standing in the refreshment-room with Mrs.
+Cashmore, and I went <i>straight</i> up to him and
+said, 'Don't you remember me, Mr. Alexander?'&mdash;and
+after all this he only promised me&mdash;and
+that conditionally&mdash;a horrid, silly little part in
+the curtain-raiser in No. 2 B Company on tour.
+On tour! Of course I refused that&mdash;one must
+keep up one's prestige, Mr. Rathbone. There's a
+great deal of injustice in the profession. Talent
+counts for nothing&mdash;it's all influence. But I've
+always had a great ambition ever since I was
+a little girl." Miss Luscombe put her head on one
+side and talked as she had to the interviewer of
+<i>The Perfect Lady</i>. "It was always my dream&mdash;do
+you know?&mdash;to marry a great actor&mdash;or, at
+any rate, to be his great friend&mdash;like Irving and
+Ellen Terry&mdash;that sort of thing&mdash;a great, lifelong
+friendship! And as a child I was madly in
+love with the elder George Grossmith, but I
+don't think he ever knew it. Too bad!"</p>
+
+<p>She pouted childishly, gave her arch musical
+laugh with its three soprano notes and upward
+inflection, and then accepted a quail with a
+heavy sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"When I was a boy," said Rathbone in a low
+concentrated voice of reminiscence&mdash;he spoke
+rather quickly, for he had been trying in vain
+during the whole of dinner to get a word in
+edgeways and feared to lose his chance now&mdash;"when
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>I was a boy I was in love, too, with some
+one on the stage. Between ourselves&mdash;you won't
+mention it, will you, Miss Luscombe?&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You can trust me," she said earnestly, with
+a look of Julia Neilson.</p>
+
+<p>"Good! Well, I was in love, and I've got her
+initials&mdash;C. L.&mdash;tattooed on me now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible! How exciting! Who is C. L.?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked round the table and murmured in
+a low voice, "Cissie Loftus. Isn't it odd? I wrote
+and told her about it, but I never received an
+answer to my letter."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor, poor boy! I call that really touching!
+Will you show me the initials some day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no. Impossible." He was stern, adamantine.
+She hastily went on. "So you're very keen&mdash;interested
+in the stage, Mr. Rathbone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, in the stage door. I collect programmes,
+and I haven't missed a first night since I was
+twenty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy! Then I ought to remember your face,
+at all the theatres!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean at the Gaiety," he said, "only the
+Gaiety."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the Gaiety!" she turned her shoulder
+to him.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Daphne, if you would come out to
+New York you'd have a real good time. You'd
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>turn all the young fellow's heads. I'm afraid
+you'd do a terrible amount of damage there. I
+should like to show you and Mrs. Wyburn Newport
+in the season, too. You ladies have it all
+your own way over the other side of&mdash;&mdash;may I
+say, the herringpond?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please do; yes, <i>do</i> say the herringpond!"</p>
+
+<p>Daphne leant forward and said to Harry:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know who is that very distinguished-looking
+man who has just come in&mdash;rather
+weary and a little grey on the temples? He
+bowed and kissed the woman's hand so charmingly&mdash;at
+the next table to us. Looks like a great
+diplomatist."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he must be a stockbroker," said
+Valentia decidedly. "Every one with the grand
+manner always is."</p>
+
+<p>"Really! I can't say; I don't know any stockbrokers,"
+said Miss Luscombe.</p>
+
+<p>"How distinguished that sounds!" murmured
+Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"It's very clever of you, Miss Luscombe,"
+said Lady Walmer; "I don't see how you can
+help it! I know nobody else. I always tell Alec
+she'll have to marry one, and when she says she
+doesn't want to, 'My dear child,' I say, 'you
+can't marry people you don't see!' And almost
+the only people she ever sees at our house <i>are</i>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>stockbrokers&mdash;except a few soldiers who never
+have a penny."</p>
+
+<p>Alec was the daughter, named after her distinguished
+godmother.</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite gone out to be snobbish now," Lady
+Walmer continued in a lower voice to Harry.
+"We're all only too glad to take all we can get
+in exchange for anything we give!"</p>
+
+<p>"And you don't call that snobbish?" said
+Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, no!&mdash;of course, we give as little as
+possible. I talk like this and yet I married for
+love&mdash;and you know the result! Walmer's always
+gambling, always running after&mdash;goodness
+knows what&mdash;and leaves me&mdash;not quite in
+the gutter, but certainly on the kerb!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you want Alec to marry for love?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid she'll have to, my dear&mdash;she's
+not very attractive. It's a blessing she's an
+heiress. But if she's allowed to play hockey, and
+skate, and fence, and dance, and the husband is
+fairly kind to her, I'm sure she'll be happy&mdash;I
+mean, I have no idea of her marrying a duke,
+Harry. I shall be satisfied if he's a charming man,
+and not too selfish." She lowered her voice still
+more to add&mdash;"You know she likes you, poor
+child, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're making fun of me, dear Lady
+Walmer."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>"No, I'm not.... Walmer's taken 'Flying
+Fish' again, and after Cowes we're going for a
+long cruise. You must come with us. Her father
+will be all right. He lets me have my own way
+about her. Well, aren't you coming?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're too frightfully kind, Lady Walmer,
+of course. But&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, of course you're going to the
+Green Gate, but I wish you'd listen to a woman
+of the world. That," she gave Valentia a piercing
+glance, "can't go on for ever! You will find
+Romer making a row some day, and that will be
+a bore for you. He's just the sort of man who
+would."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia, noticing their confidential tone and
+feeling instinctively that some treachery was
+in the air, looked once angrily at Harry and then
+became apparently absorbed in the conversation
+of Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>Every one was talking volubly and gaily.
+Only Daphne and Captain Foster were silent as
+they sat side by side looking at their plates. But
+they were the only people who had found the
+dinner a real success.</p>
+
+<p>Harry, who with all his <i>usage du monde</i> was
+peculiarly subject to sudden obscure impulses
+as of the primitive man, became pale with a
+strange and painful sensation as he looked at
+Valentia.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>She was flirting with Vaughan, or so every
+one present must be thinking. Of course it was
+only from pique, and he would soon put a stop
+to it.</p>
+
+<p>And Vaughan, with his ironical glance and
+quiet manner, why did he look into her eyes
+all the time?</p>
+
+<p>What was he saying?</p>
+
+<p>Harry asked them all to come back to the
+studio for some music, but even as he made
+the arrangement to drive Valentia, he remembered
+that, <i>&agrave; la fin des fins</i>, he would have to
+leave her at her husband's house. Would
+Romer be sitting up? What an ass he was! What
+rot the whole dinner was! It was all through
+Van Buren. Van Buren was a fool. Confound
+Romer!</p>
+
+<p>Harry was jealous.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>DAPHNE</h3>
+
+
+<p>"More flowers from Van Buren? Let me
+look at them. A spray of lilies of the
+valley; how touching! He expects you to wear
+them at the opera. I think it's <i>such</i> a mistake to
+wear real flowers on an evening dress. They
+have a damp, chilly look, like fresh vegetables,
+at first, and when they begin to fade they make
+you look faded, too. Never mind, Daphne; I
+think perhaps you'd better wear them just to-night,"
+said Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday," said Daphne, "he sent me that
+basket of American Beauty roses. The day before
+he sent me Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poems."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia smiled. "Poor darling!&mdash;I mean Van
+Buren's a poor darling, not you. You see, he's
+got the nice sort of Boston idea that a man ought
+only to send a girl flowers or books, or music.
+He thinks it's respectful. But, anyway, it's a very
+good sign."</p>
+
+<p>"A good sign? But I thought there was so
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>much of that sort of thing&mdash;I mean fuss and
+attention, to girls in America. I thought that
+didn't mean anything. I mean anything particular."</p>
+
+<p>"Daphne, dear, don't blind yourself; don't
+shut your eyes to obvious facts. It isn't a matter
+of what you think or what I think, or of speculation
+at all. I <i>happen to know</i> that Van Buren <i>is</i>
+going to propose to you. He'll probably do it at
+Henley or at Sandown, or in the Park. He's
+certain to want it to be on a typically English
+background; but you can take it from me, for a
+dead cert, that it's bound to come."</p>
+
+<p>Daphne sat down and looked serious.</p>
+
+<p>"Valentia, it's no good. Don't let him do it.
+It will be so frightfully uncomfortable meeting
+him afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"Frightfully uncomfortable meeting the man
+to whom you're engaged? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I shan't be engaged to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never marry, Valentia."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia stared at her in silence.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your idea, darling? Why, you won't
+be eighteen till June. You can't be sure you'll
+never want to marry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't care for Van Buren."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you liked him so much?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>"Well, he seems all right at first. But I
+simply couldn't stand him always about."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you? Poor pet! But he mightn't <i>be</i>
+always about."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I couldn't stand his marked attention.
+Valentia, I <i>hate</i> marked attention."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you, really? Who'd have thought it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;and he'd always be so considerate
+and so thoughtful and so respectful!"</p>
+
+<p>"That mightn't last when you were married,"
+said Valentia consolingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he might not be so bad after we were
+once married.... But I shouldn't like to risk it.
+And the engagement! Oh! I couldn't simply
+<i>stand</i> the engagement! Just think of the ring,
+and the sentiment, and the fuss, and the letters!
+Oh, he'd enjoy it all so much! Oh, it would make
+me simply sick to see how pleased he'd be!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that feeling," said Valentia sympathetically,
+nodding her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, and don't you see how he'd think he was
+engaged to a well-brought-up, nice English girl
+who was a relation of Harry's, and knew all the
+right people, and all that sort of thing? And
+he'd take a big house&mdash;he's hinted this to me
+already&mdash;most likely in Park Lane&mdash;anyhow,
+something just like a millionaire in a book. It's
+all so dull, and cut-and-dried."</p>
+
+<p>"Some of these cut-and-dried obvious things
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>turn out quite jolly afterwards. It's the uncomfortable,
+romantic things that are more often
+failures. And you know, Daphne, you do like
+pretty things and clothes, and going everywhere,
+and&mdash;not only that, he's really such a dear, and
+a good sort, and so good-looking! And you'd put
+me into a very awkward position with Harry if
+you refuse him. But, of course, darling, you
+must do as you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Valentia, don't <i>let</i> me refuse
+him. I don't want to. Don't let it come to that.
+I'm sure I should loathe to hear him propose."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would make me sick."</p>
+
+<p>"What can I tell Harry really as your reason
+for not being able to stand Van?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure <i>I</i> don't know!"</p>
+
+<p>"He bores you," announced Valentia. "That's
+what's the matter. He doesn't amuse you."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't that, it isn't that!" cried Daphne
+vehemently. "I don't <i>want</i> to be amused. Do
+you think I like a man because he's clever, or
+funny, and always making jokes? That bores me
+frightfully. Harry's way of being lively and
+clever bores me to <i>death</i>! I don't want to marry
+a professional entertainer! No, Valentia, that's
+more the sort of thing you'd like. <i>You're</i> quite
+sorry Romer's not like that."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suggest that it would be ideal to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>marry Harry Lauder, Daphne dear. But wouldn't
+you really like someone fairly intelligent?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. Why should I? Do you think I want to
+marry a man so horribly clever that he wouldn't
+understand a word I said?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's have it out, dear. What do you think
+you want?" Valentia answered herself; "It's
+Foster, of course! That dull, empty-headed,
+commonplace, hard-up, handsome boy. You
+can't marry him. He's just twenty-two, and has
+only a miserable allowance, and is in an expensive
+regiment, and you, darling, will only have three
+hundred a year. I should love to see you happy
+in your own way and having your wish, but
+don't you think it's a childish fancy? You're
+both children. Of course he hasn't suggested
+marriage, yet, has he? He knows perfectly well
+it's out of the question."</p>
+
+<p>"Valentia! Darling! Why, he proposed to me
+the day we were introduced&mdash;at Prince's, and
+he's been doing it ever since."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how utterly absurd of him! Well, anyhow,
+you must wait and see. Even if he could
+afford it, I don't think it would be a success.
+Why, there's nothing in the boy! What do you
+see in him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I like the way he laughs," said Daphne,
+after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind telling me one thing straight
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>out? I'm being very nice to you about this, dear.
+I ought to scold you. But, at any rate, you must
+treat me with complete confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, of course, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, he hasn't ever kissed you, has he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Valentia!"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, darling. I felt sure he
+hadn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he has."</p>
+
+<p>"He has!&mdash;Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean, where? Oh! at every
+dance where we've ever met. He always does,
+whenever he can. Is it so dreadful? He's such a
+boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy your liking him enough for that!"
+said Valentia, stupefied.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's a darling; and the only person I
+ever could possibly marry."</p>
+
+<p>"It's rather serious," said Valentia; "and
+poor Van who is so devoted!"</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't, really," said Daphne decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think so? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the whole thing's an <i>idea</i>&mdash;the sort of
+thing he <i>wants to do</i>. It's not genuine."</p>
+
+<p>"I should have thought the feelings of a man
+of thirty-four who could marry any one he chose
+would be more real than the fancy of a mere
+boy! Boys like anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"Van isn't genuine like Cyril," said Daphne.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>"Who on earth's Cyril?"</p>
+
+<p>"Captain Foster."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia walked round the room and then
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And you really suppose you're going to adore
+him all your life?"</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>suppose</i> so. I really don't know. I know
+about now. Oh, Valentia, be a darling and let
+him come to the fancy ball with us." She kissed
+her. "And, oh, do tell Harry to explain to Van
+that it can't go on, that he must put it out of his
+head. Do, darling Valentia. Any well-brought-up
+young girl will do for him just as well!"</p>
+
+<p>"And wouldn't any well-brought-up young
+girl do for Cyril?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. But only Cyril will do for me.
+Oh! the jolly way he has of saying 'Righto' and
+'You're all right,' and calling me 'little girl!'
+Oh, he <i>is</i> a dear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, if he says such brilliant things as
+<i>that</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't what he <i>says</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, hush, Daphne, here is Romer. I shan't
+tell him a word about it. Well, I'll think it
+over." She called Daphne back and said in a
+half-hearted way&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it wouldn't do just to sort of please
+Harry by marrying Van, and then seeing that
+silly boy now and then. You'd so soon get tired
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>of him&mdash;but, no! that wouldn't be right. Forget
+that I said it&mdash;I don't mean it."</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't stand Van at all," said Daphne
+definitely, "whether I saw Cyril or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you shan't be bothered with him. But
+can't you give up Cyril? I know I'm right about
+it. It isn't only the hard-upness and the impossibility&mdash;of
+course, I know he's got relations
+and all that&mdash;but, it's he himself. You'll get
+bored with him, too, in a different way."</p>
+
+<p>"I like him so much <i>now</i>," pleaded Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>Romer came in and Valentia merely told him
+at great length every word of the foregoing
+conversation with lavish comments by herself.
+Secretly Romer was bitterly disappointed when
+he realised that the possibility of his being left
+alone with his wife was more remote, but of
+course he agreed with Valentia, as she changed
+her mind a dozen times on the subject, and as
+usual the conversation ended in a telephone
+message to Harry to come round at once.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>IN FANCY DRESS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Van Buren had had many pleasures,
+many gratifications since he had been in
+London; his dreams&mdash;the dreams inspired by
+Du Maurier's drawings when he was a little
+boy&mdash;had been very nearly realised. Perhaps the
+greatest triumph that he had had yet was the
+evening of the Artists' Fancy Ball.</p>
+
+<p>He had succeeded in making up a party to go
+in costume. He was always making up parties,
+and he had for many years been obsessed by a
+longing to dress up.</p>
+
+<p>Harry, in mockery of his passion for everything
+English, had advised him to go as an
+Ancient Briton, with a coat of blue paint. Scorning
+such ribald chaff, he had ordered a magnificent
+costume of chain armour. Greatly to his
+satisfaction he had persuaded Hereford Vaughan
+to go as Shakespeare, Valentia and Daphne
+respectively as Portia in scarlet and Rosalind in
+green.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>A large party were to dine at Van Buren's
+rooms before the ball. Fancy dress has the effect
+of bringing out odd, unexpected little characteristics
+in people. For example, Harry, good-looking
+and a dandy, quite a romantic type,
+hated dressing up, and cared nothing whatever
+about his costume; while Romer, the sober and
+serious, enjoyed it immensely, and appeared to
+think his appearance of the utmost importance&mdash;almost
+a matter of life and death.</p>
+
+<p>The women were far less self-conscious in
+costume than the men, and cared far less how
+they looked, probably because women are always
+more or less in fancy dress, and it was not so
+much of a novelty to them.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia had pointed out that Shakespeare, to
+be quite correct, should wear ear-rings; so
+Vaughan called at her house on the way to Van
+Buren's, as she had promised to lend him some.</p>
+
+<p>"He won't know how to put them on," said
+Daphne, drawing on her long boots. "Probably
+he hasn't had his ears pierced; you must go and
+screw them on for him."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia ran down. Just as she was screwing
+the long coral and pearl ear-rings with rather
+painful energy on to the unfortunate young man's
+ears, the servant, with a slight expression of
+terror that could not be concealed, announced&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Wyburn."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>The situation was really rather comic. Romer's
+mother, who was going to a dinner-party in the
+same street, could not forgo the pleasure of
+calling unexpectedly on them at half-past seven,
+vaguely hoping that it might be inconvenient to
+them, and that she would catch them in something
+they didn't want her to know&mdash;a true
+mother's instinct. But not in her wildest dreams
+had she expected what she saw when she entered
+the drawing-room&mdash;her daughter-in-law in her
+red mortar-board, red cloak and bands, with,
+apparently, her arms round the neck of a young
+man in purple silk stockings and jewelled embroidered
+gloves with rings outside them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn literally sank into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia was perfectly equal to the occasion.
+She thoroughly enjoyed the baffling of Mrs.
+Wyburn.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think why Romer didn't tell you,"
+she repeated several times, "that Van Buren is
+giving a dinner for the fancy ball!" and she rang
+and gave orders that her husband and sister were
+to come down immediately.</p>
+
+<p>Romer had been four hours dressing; Daphne
+about ten minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"I do think you ought to have a little make-up.
+Will you?" said Valentia to Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"I should love to," he answered, to Mrs.
+Wyburn's disgust and horror, looking in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>glass and taking very little notice of the indignant old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"He <i>does</i> need just a touch of lip-salve and a
+little black under the eyes, don't you think so?"
+Valentia asked, caressingly, pretending to consult
+Mrs. Wyburn.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say, I'm sure. I've no idea what he
+wants," said Mrs. Wyburn with a snap.</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you think it would improve him,
+darling?" Valentia went on, holding her head on
+one side and holding up her hand as if she were
+looking at a picture.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said Mrs. Wyburn.</p>
+
+<p>"Then do you think his lips are red enough
+already?" asked Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan hastily interrupted the absurd discussion.</p>
+
+<p>"The human lip is never red enough," he
+said decidedly; "they ought to be bright, light
+scarlet."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I think. I've got some
+lovely scarlet stuff&mdash;the colour of sealing-wax.
+Shall I fetch it for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"But won't it look rather&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No; merely decent," said the young man decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"And what does Romer say to <i>all this</i>?" said
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>Mrs. Wyburn with a forced smile and a voice
+trembling with uncontrollable rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he likes it, darling. He loves it. No one's
+been so keen about their dress as Romer. I'll go
+and fetch him, and my roll of parchment&mdash;I had
+forgotten my roll of parchment."</p>
+
+<p>She ran upstairs and came down saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Romer won't be a minute, dear; he's awfully
+anxious for you to see his dress. He's just darkening
+his eyelashes. That's all. He's Louis XIX or
+something, you know."</p>
+
+<p>She then deliberately and openly drew Vaughan
+to the window where there was still bright June
+daylight and painted his lips a brilliant scarlet
+to their mutual satisfaction and Mrs. Wyburn's
+unspeakable horror.</p>
+
+<p>"Mad," murmured Mrs. Wyburn, half to
+herself, "quite mad! I shall be quite upset for
+the Trott-Hellyers' dinner-party. It's Dr. Trott-Hellyers'
+birthday. He only <i>lives</i> three doors
+from you" (she said this rather reproachfully),
+"and I dine with him <i>every</i> year on his birthday!
+And to think I only came in to see my son for a
+minute or two, because I couldn't bear to pass
+his door ... his very door...."</p>
+
+<p>"Sweet of you," said Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>... "And then to think I should find&mdash;&mdash;" She
+screamed suddenly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>Daphne had come in, in her green cloak,
+doublet and hose, and little green cap, Romer in
+paint and powder, patches and lace ruffles,
+sword and snuffbox. There was a lavish amount
+of rouge on his cheeks and his eyes were blacked
+almost to the temples.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing that his mother was there he had
+finished the left eye rather hurriedly, the result
+being that he looked as if he had been fighting.</p>
+
+<p>While the poor lady was trying to adjust herself
+to this sight, and explaining for the sixth
+time why she was there, and making bitter
+remarks about a young girl going to a ball in
+what she (Mrs. Wyburn) called trousers, and
+while Daphne kept on wrapping herself in the
+folds of her cloak and then undoing them again
+to show her nice high boots, she was still more
+distressed at the arrival of her <i>b&ecirc;te noire</i> and
+mortal enemy, Harry de Freyne.</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren had sent his motor for them, containing
+Harry.</p>
+
+<p>Had his name not been announced by the servant,
+Mrs. Wyburn would certainly not have recognised
+Harry. He was a pierrot in white satin,
+with a violet tulle ruffle round his neck and a
+black velvet mask. One would know him solely
+by his single eye-glass, his pleasant voice, and
+fluent conversation.</p>
+
+<p>Pretending to be a clown he jumped in,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>bowed low to Mrs. Wyburn, and kissed first
+Daphne and then Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>With a last-straw expression Mrs. Wyburn
+drew herself up to her full height.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me my cloak, Romer. I must go. No,
+don't come to the carriage with me. Suppose the
+Trott-Hellyers were to see you&mdash;they'd never
+get over it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, it's all right, mother," Romer answered.
+"I'm all right. I'm a courtier&mdash;of the
+tenth century&mdash;you know. I'm all right."</p>
+
+<p>"And you approve of your young sister-in-law
+going to a public ball dressed up as a man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rosalind wasn't a man, mother. You forget;
+you must read the <i>Midsummer Night's Dream</i>
+again. You've forgotten it."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't find Rosalind there. But that's not
+the point. When I came in I found Valentia with
+that man&mdash;the man who writes in purple
+knickerbockers&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he doesn't&mdash;he never writes in purple
+knickerbockers."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this meant to be witty?" she asked with a
+freezing glare.</p>
+
+<p>"What? No, I shouldn't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"I found <i>your wife</i>," she said in a low hissing
+voice, as they passed through the hall where
+there was a large looking-glass&mdash;Romer's attention
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>wandered&mdash;"within an inch of that young
+man's face, putting ear-rings in his ears!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she couldn't put them in a mile off,"
+said Romer absently.</p>
+
+<p>He was now frankly turning his back on his
+mother, and staring at his face in the glass.</p>
+
+<p>"Hang it all! I don't look so bad, do I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You look a gentleman," she answered coldly;
+"any son of mine must look a gentleman. Of
+course, you look ridiculous&mdash;and, as far as that
+goes, you <i>are</i> ridiculous; but that doesn't matter
+quite so much as long as you look a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, rot!"</p>
+
+<p>Romer was trying to move a patch from one
+corner of his eye to the other.</p>
+
+<p>"But as to Harry de Freyne?... And shall
+you allow your wife to dance with him in that
+costume?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course&mdash;why not? And&mdash;<i>doesn't</i> Valentia
+look&mdash;jolly?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think the scarlet with her golden hair is
+rather too&mdash;striking," she answered spitefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>she's</i> all right!"</p>
+
+<p>"I think you're all mad!" she answered as she
+reached the door.</p>
+
+<p>The servant opened it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we're all right. Good night, mother.
+You'll be late for the Trott-Hellyers."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>Drawing her cloak over her narrow shoulders,
+Mrs. Wyburn stepped angrily into the brougham.</p>
+
+<p>Although it was only three doors from her
+son's house, she would not for the world have
+walked.</p>
+
+<p>When she arrived there, still in a very bad
+temper at all she had seen, she nevertheless
+boasted to her neighbour about how remarkably
+distinguished and handsome her son and
+daughter-in-law had looked in costume, and of
+their success, charm, perfect domestic happiness,
+and importance and perfection generally.</p>
+
+<p>She succeeded in depressing the fossils on
+both sides of her, but they smiled at each other,
+indulgent to the feminine weakness of so amiable
+and devoted a mother.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>A CELEBRITY AT HOME</h3>
+
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe lived with her mother
+in a species of tank, or rather in a flat
+that gave that impression because it was in the
+basement. It was dark, and such glimpses as they
+had of people passing on the pavement were
+extremely odd; it seemed a procession of legs
+and skirts, like something in a pantomime or a
+cinematograph.</p>
+
+<p>The Luscombes lived, as it were, beneath the
+surface; but that did not prevent their being very
+much <i>dans le mouvement</i>, and coming up with
+great frequency to the surface to breathe. And
+when one had once walked down the steps and
+found one's way into the tank, it was an extremely
+pleasant one, and quite artistic. It seemed
+original, too. There was something almost
+freakish in being answered by the parlourmaid
+(who was suitably like a fish in manner and
+profile), "Miss Luscombe is at home, and will
+you please step downstairs?" when one had rung
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>the bell on the ground floor. And Miss Luscombe's
+ringing laugh with its three soprano notes and
+upward cadence always greeted one charmingly
+and cordially, and one always liked her; one
+couldn't help it. Her great fault was that she
+was never alone. She existed in an atmosphere
+of teaparties and 'afternoons'; like the Lotus-Eaters,
+she lived in 'that land where it was
+always afternoon'.</p>
+
+<p>For an obscure person she led a singularly
+public life. In her existence there seemed no
+secrets, no shadows, no contrasts, and no domesticity.
+One could never imagine her except in
+what she regarded as full dress, nor without, by
+her side, a perpetual bamboo table with three
+little shelves in it, in which were distributed
+small cut pieces of very yellow cake with very
+black currants, sandwiches, made of rather
+warm thin bread and butter, pink and white
+cocoanut biscuits, and constant relays of strong
+dark tea made in a drab china teapot. On
+crowded afternoons&mdash;in fact, every other Thursday&mdash;little
+coffee cups containing lumpy iced
+coffee were also handed round. When they had
+music there were lemonade, mustard and cress
+sandwiches, and a buffet.</p>
+
+<p>Even when Miss Luscombe was entirely alone
+she did not seem so. She had got into the habit
+of talking always as if she were surrounded by
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>crowds, and said so much about the celebrities
+who ought to have turned up that one felt
+almost as depressed as if they had really been
+there. Sometimes they came, for there was no
+one like Miss Luscombe for firmness. Also, she
+was never offended and was hospitality itself,
+and she had a way of greeting one that was a
+reward for all one's trouble&mdash;it seemed much
+more trouble than it really was, somehow, just
+to step down into the tank. And she was so
+charming no one could help being flattered till
+the next visitor arrived, when she was even
+more charming.</p>
+
+<p>After the Fancy Ball she had got hold of
+Valentia, who came to see her on one of those
+Thursdays that she had pointed out as peculiarly
+her own&mdash;one of <i>my</i> Thursdays. She really
+believed that for any one else to receive on that
+day was a kind of infringement of copyright.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe was wearing on this occasion
+a drab taffeta silk dress with transparent sleeves
+and a low neck. She wore a rose in her hair, a
+necklace, and long gloves, because she said she
+wouldn't have time to dress again before going
+out to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>About a dozen people were there&mdash;vague
+shamefaced young men with nothing to say, and
+confident, satirical, fluent young men with a
+great deal to laugh at. Most of the older women
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>seemed a shade patronising in tone, and looked
+as if they had never been there before. On the
+faces of the young women and the girls could be
+read the resolution never to go there again.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luscombe, the mother, was so refined
+that there was scarcely anything of her; her
+presence was barely perceptible. She had learnt
+the art of self-effacement to the point of showing
+no trace of being there at all. To add to the
+effect of not being noticeable, she wore a dress
+exactly the same colour as the sofa on which she
+sat&mdash;like those insects who, when hiding from
+their foes, become the colour of the leaves on
+which they live. She was practically invisible.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, Miss Luscombe herself
+was very much there&mdash;very much <i>en &eacute;vidence</i>.
+Smiling, greeting, archly laughing, sweetly
+pouting; coquetting, eating, playing, singing,
+acting&mdash;almost dancing&mdash;an ideal and delightful
+hostess.</p>
+
+<p>She said to every one as they arrived how
+sweet it was of them to come so early, or how
+naughty it was of them to come so late, or how
+horrid it was of them not to come last time, or
+how dear it would be of them if they came next.
+She always introduced people to each other who
+were not on speaking terms, and had intentionally
+cut each other for years. She had a real
+genius for making people accidentally meet who
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>had just broken off their engagement, or had
+some other awkward reason for not wishing to
+see each other&mdash;and then pushing them together
+so that they could not get away. At
+heart she was intensely a peacemaker, but
+people who had met there rarely made up
+their quarrels.</p>
+
+<p>When the favourite actor arrived she introduced
+him to every one till he was ready to
+drop, and when the great singer telegraphed he
+couldn't come, she showed the wire to everybody.
+Most of the guests preferred his not
+coming. Very few could have endured her
+triumph had he really arrived. On the other
+hand, they would themselves have far preferred
+to receive a telegram of refusal rather than not
+to hear from him at all.</p>
+
+<p>When these entertainments were over and
+the mother and daughter were left alone, the
+daughter became far more thoroughly artificial
+than she was when surrounded by her friends.
+There was no throwing off the mask; on the
+contrary, it was fixed more firmly on, and Miss
+Luscombe gave free vent to her sham passion
+for imitation comedy.</p>
+
+<p>On this particular Thursday, as soon as
+Flora Luscombe had laughed her last visitor
+archly to the door, she knelt by her mother's
+side, put her arms round her, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>"Dear, dear Mummy, how sweet it is to be
+alone!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luscombe shrank back a little. This pet
+name, only too appropriate, always got a little
+on her nerves, but she felt bound to play up in an
+amateurish sort of way to a certain extent.</p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't you better go and take off that
+beautiful dress?" she said. "You're not really
+dining out, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dearest, I managed to get out of it, but
+alas! I've got to go to the Reception&mdash;you know&mdash;that
+horrid Royal Institution of Water
+Colours&mdash;afterwards. It isn't worth while to
+change again. Oh, how weary one does get of
+the continual round! And then to-morrow!"
+She sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow! Don't talk of it! There's Mrs.
+Morris's At Home in Maida Hill, and then
+right at the other end of London the Hyslop-Dunn's
+in Victoria Grove. Oh, dear! And yet
+one feels one must be <i>seen</i> at all these places,
+darling, or else it's remarked at once."</p>
+
+<p>"You live too much for the world," replied
+her mother, tidying up some half-finished
+watercress sandwiches with a sharp knife. She
+wondered if, thus repaired, they would do for
+next Thursday.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Mummy dear, that's the worst
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>of our terrible profession. We must keep before
+the public, or else we drop out and are forgotten.
+What a sweet creature Valentia Wyburn is! I
+thought she was quite, quite dear. And the
+husband and the cousin are darlings too. Of
+course they wouldn't come; I couldn't get them
+to an afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>She got up and looked in the glass.</p>
+
+<p>"What a crowd there was to-day! Three
+people came up to the front door at the same
+time. I think they enjoyed themselves, don't
+you? Though I feel I can't pay every one proper
+attention when there's such a crush, but I do
+my little best.... Mr. Simpson came up to
+me and told me I looked quite wonderful. But
+he's a silly thing." She pouted and put her head
+on one side. "Did I look too hideous, darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful, of course. The only thing is ..."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe clapped her hands and
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Did its little girlie really look as nice as all
+that? Oh, Mummy, Mummy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Charming, dear, I only wish that ..."</p>
+
+<p>"It's too proud of its little daughter, that's
+what it is," said Miss Luscombe, sitting on the
+arm of her mother's chair. "It's a silly, vain,
+conceited mother, that it is. It can't see any
+fault in its pet."</p>
+
+<p>She tried to pat her mother's cheek. Mrs.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>Luscombe moved aside with justifiable irritation.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't do that, Flora! Yes, dear, of course, I
+think you're wonderful, and looked sweet to-day;
+but I do wish ..."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, it doesn't want anything," said Flora.</p>
+
+<p>"I should be so pleased&mdash;if you'd put on just
+a little less lip-salve and not quite so much of
+that bluish powder."</p>
+
+<p>Having succeeded in completing her sentence,
+her mother got up and faded quickly out of the
+room and shut the door, leaving Flora looking
+quite surprised and rather upset with being
+found fault with.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, she did not quite recover her equanimity
+until she had looked over the cards in the
+hall and put on a great deal more powder and
+lip-salve, after which she told her mother
+perhaps she was right, and in any case she,
+Flora, would always do what she asked, and
+would always follow her dear, dear Mummy's
+advice.</p>
+
+<p>She was so charming and amiable that Mrs.
+Luscombe pretended to believe her, and said it
+was <i>sweet</i> of her to take it all off and go out
+that evening without any adventitious aids to
+beauty; and this she said in spite of the obvious
+fact that Flora had evidently put on considerably
+more than usual.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>MISCHIEF</h3>
+
+
+<p>The elder Mrs. Wyburn was seated at the
+gloomy window of her sulky-looking house
+in Curzon Street one bright day in the season,
+looking out with some anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she's late; but if that woman
+doesn't come I'll never forgive her. She's a silly
+fool, but at least she does hear what's going on,"
+she reflected.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment an old-fashioned-looking
+victoria drove up, drawn by two large grey
+horses. In it sat a rather fat and important-looking
+lady, with greyish red hair, a straight
+decided mouth, and several firm chins. Her
+most marked characteristic was her intense
+decision on trivialities. She was always curiously
+definite on the vaguest of subjects, and extraordinarily
+firm and sensible about nothing
+in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury was a rich unmarried woman,
+with a peculiarly matronly appearance, a good-natured
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>love of giving advice, and with views
+that obviously dated&mdash;one did not know exactly
+from when. If she had some of the Victorian
+severities of the sixties, she had also many of
+the sentimental vagaries of the eighties. The
+serious business of her life was gossip. In her
+lighter moments she collected autographs. But
+her gossip differed from that of the nervous,
+impatient Mrs. Wyburn in that it was far more
+pompous and moral, and not nearly so spiteful
+and accurate.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury sailed in&mdash;I need hardly say
+she was dressed in heliotrope&mdash;and sat down
+rather seriously in a large&mdash;and the only comfortable&mdash;armchair.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Millie, how extremely good of you
+to come!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury had been christened Maria,
+but Millie was the name which she had chosen
+to be called by her friends.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very pleased to come, dear Isabella.
+To call on you on one of your Wednesdays is, I
+know, quite hopeless if one has anything to
+say. To call on any one on a day at home, except
+as a mere matter of form, I do not consider
+sensible."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so. Will you have some tea?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn rang the bell rather fretfully.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>She did not care for Millie's made conversation,
+and hated her way of gaining time.</p>
+
+<p>"I will have what I always have, dear Mrs.
+Wyburn, at five o'clock, if I may&mdash;hot water
+with one teaspoonful of milk, and a saccharine
+tablet which I bring with me. I am not a faddist,
+and I think all those sort of fancies about what
+is and what is not good for one are exceedingly
+foolish; but when I go in for a r&eacute;gime, dear,
+I give it a fair chance. Otherwise there is no
+sense in it!"</p>
+
+<p>She settled herself still more sensibly and
+decidedly in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," said Mrs. Wyburn nervously&mdash;one
+could see she was not listening, and thought
+Miss Westbury was merely drivelling on&mdash;"whether
+you will come to the point at once?
+It would be a great comfort if you would. I
+have been feeling quite anxious about your
+visit. I rather foolishly took some coffee after
+lunch, and it kept me awake the whole afternoon&mdash;either
+that, or my anxiety."</p>
+
+<p>"If you take coffee after lunch," replied Miss
+Westbury, "you should take it made as I do.
+Two teaspoonfuls of coffee in a large breakfast-cup
+full of hot water, a saccharine tablet, and a
+teaspoonful of condensed&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What was it you really heard, Millie dear,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>about my daughter-in-law?" interrupted Mrs.
+Wyburn sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Here the footman brought in the tea. Miss
+Westbury frowned, and ostentatiously changed
+the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been to the Grafton? I was persuaded
+to go. I think, myself, there's a great
+deal too much fuss made about pictures nowadays.
+When one thinks of the money that's
+wasted on them, when it might be sent to a
+hospital, it makes one's blood boil! And some
+of those that are made the most fuss about&mdash;both
+the Old Masters and the very new ones&mdash;these
+post-men, or whatever they're called&mdash;seem
+to me perfect nonsense. A daub and a
+splash&mdash;no real trouble taken&mdash;and then you're
+expected to rave about it. There's one man&mdash;some
+one wants me to buy a picture of his&mdash;he
+paints all his pictures in tiny squares of different
+colours; when you're close you can't see anything,
+but it seems that if you walk five feet
+away it forms into a kind of pattern. It seems
+it's the tessellated school, and they tell me that
+in a few years nothing else will count. And what
+I thought was a mountain in a mist turns out
+to be 'A Nun with cows grazing.' Silly nonsense
+I call it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Was the nun grazing, or the cows?" asked
+Mrs. Wyburn.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>"Goodness knows, dear. Then there was that
+other one called Waning Day, or something.
+Two people in a boat sailing on dry land! Then
+that picture of a purple man with a green
+beard! Oh, my dear! The people who took me
+there told me it was full of&mdash;something French&mdash;<i>essayage</i>,
+or <i>mouvement</i>, I think. The man
+who tried to make me buy it said it was symbolical.
+But of course I refused. You know I
+never have anything to do with nonsense. Well
+now, my dear&mdash;&mdash;" Taking pity on Mrs.
+Wyburn's extreme impatience, Miss Westbury
+came a little nearer. "What I heard was simply
+this. My cousin, Jane Totness, took her little
+boy, who is in London for the holidays, to the
+British Museum. She always likes to improve
+his mind as much as possible; besides, he had
+been promised a treat after having a tooth out;
+the first week of the holidays he always has
+a tooth out and a treat after. Jane is like that;
+she's a sensible woman, and I must say I think
+she brings her boys up very well. I myself might
+have been more inclined to take him to Madame
+Tussaud's, or even to a matin&eacute;e, or to have an
+ice at Buzzard's; but I dare say I'm old-fashioned
+enough in some ways, and Jane knows her own
+business best."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt she does," said Mrs. Wyburn,
+quivering with impatience, tapping her foot on
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>the floor, and trying to restrain herself. "And
+so she took the little boy&mdash;Charlie, isn't it?&mdash;to
+the British Museum? Go on, dear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not Charlie, Mrs. Wyburn. It was little
+Laurence&mdash;little Laurence. He was called
+Laurence after his grandfather, Lord Dorking.
+It's the rule in the Totness family; the second
+son is always called after the grandfather, the
+eldest son after his father, and the third son&mdash;I
+mean, of course, if there is one&mdash;after the
+mother's father. Don't you think it's a very
+sensible plan, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn gave her friend first a sympathetic
+smile, and then a murderous glance.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes. Well, she was just pointing out
+something to little Laurence&mdash;he's an intelligent
+boy, and I dare say he was enjoying it
+very much&mdash;when, to her great surprise, <i>who</i>
+should she see but Mrs. Romer Wyburn, talking
+away like anything on a seat with&mdash;who do
+you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"That young man Harry de Freyne&mdash;her
+cousin, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"How extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn.
+"Did they seem uncomfortable when they
+saw Jane?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>"Oh dear, no, my dear. They seemed most
+comfortable. Jane bowed to them&mdash;of course
+rather coldly, she says&mdash;and they smiled and
+nodded, and Valentia kissed her hand to
+Laurence. Of course, Jane was very much
+pained and shocked about it all. I must say her
+first thought, dear, was that I should tell you.
+Jane Totness is a thoroughly good woman&mdash;so
+thoughtful."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you see anything so very peculiar about
+it?" said Mrs. Wyburn. "You know, the young
+man&mdash;I disapprove of him as strongly as any
+one can&mdash;but he's an artist, and she is his cousin,
+and perhaps he wanted to show her something
+in the British Museum?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Mrs. Wyburn, far be it from me to
+look on the dark side of things, but, as Jane
+said, who on earth would go to the British
+Museum, unless they were dragged there by
+force, except to have a private interview?"</p>
+
+<p>"But if he wanted to speak to her alone, I
+don't see why he shouldn't call on her."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it. If it were a simple, innocent,
+harmless conversation, that is what he would
+have done. But it was quite clear that there was
+something clandestine about it, and you may
+be quite sure Romer knew nothing of it.
+Besides, they are always together."</p>
+
+<p>"It does look odd," said Mrs. Wyburn. "What
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>would you advise me to do? Shall I speak to my
+son or my daughter-in-law about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"To neither, my dear. If you speak only to
+your son, he will tell her, and she will get round
+him, and prove there's nothing in it. If you
+speak to her she will get round you, and say
+that Romer knew all about it. My advice is, if
+you really want to put a stop to this flirtation&mdash;I'm
+sure it's gossiped about&mdash;even Jane, who
+is the last person in the world to talk, speaks of
+it to every one. If I were you, I would speak to
+the young man himself."</p>
+
+<p>"To Harry de Freyne? Yes, it's rather a good
+idea."</p>
+
+<p>It struck Mrs. Wyburn that to do this would,
+perhaps, cause more annoyance than anything
+else. She was now anxious to get rid of Miss
+Westbury, who evidently had nothing more to
+impart. But that lady was not so easy to dispose
+of. She broke into a long monologue on the
+subject of r&eacute;gime, servants, and little dressmakers,
+occasionally returning to the subject
+of the British Museum, and the shocking frivolity
+there.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn was just thinking of having a
+violent toothache or some other ill, when Miss
+Westbury suddenly made up her mind to depart.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she had gone Mrs. Wyburn flew
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>to the Blue Book, looked up Harry's address,
+and wrote him the following note:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>
+"Dear Mr. de Freyne,
+</p>
+
+<p>"Probably you hardly remember me, but
+I have met you on two or three occasions at the
+house of my daughter-in-law, Mrs. Romer
+Wyburn. There is something I want to say to
+you which I hardly like to write. I should be
+glad if you would come and see me to-morrow
+afternoon at four o'clock. I shall not keep you
+long. You may think this a strange request,
+knowing you so slightly as I do, but when we
+meet, I am sure you will understand.</p>
+
+<p class="blckright">
+"Yours truly,<br />
+<br />
+"<span class="smcap">Isabella Wyburn</span>."<br />
+</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Having written this note, Mrs. Wyburn felt
+too impatient to send it by post; she was simply
+longing to know that Harry was feeling uncomfortable,
+as he was very certain to feel when
+he got the letter. Although she had a great
+suspicion and general dislike of the Messenger
+Boy Service, she relented for once in their
+favour so far as to make use of them, and the
+letter was sent by hand.</p>
+
+<p>She was rewarded for thus conquering her
+prejudice. Harry was at home, and accepted her
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>invitation with most respectful alacrity. His
+manners&mdash;especially on paper&mdash;were, with old
+and young ladies, always equally perfect&mdash;unless
+he was out of temper.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn eagerly hoped Harry would see
+Valentia, or somehow convey to her about the
+letter, because it would be sure to make her
+uneasy also.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The next day the young man was punctual
+to the moment. The old lady left him alone for
+a few minutes in the dark, dismal drawing-room.
+She thought it would have a salutary
+effect.</p>
+
+<p>She found him, when she came in, stroking
+the china bird, and looking at himself in the
+mirror above it.</p>
+
+<p>He received her with such charming grace
+that she felt almost disconcerted, and as if she
+ought to apologise.</p>
+
+<p>"You received my letter?" she said, rather
+abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"With great pleasure. That is why I am
+here."</p>
+
+<p>He was still standing, smiling delightfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down," she said, with cold graciousness.
+"I hope you are not in a great hurry?"</p>
+
+<p>"All my day belongs to you," he replied with
+a low bow, taking the seat she had indicated.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>He looked at her with soft deference under his
+long eyelashes.</p>
+
+<p>She found what she had to say more difficult
+than she had expected. She spoke quietly, in
+a low yet rasping voice, with a sharp dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"I will come straight to the point. To put it
+plainly, a report has reached my ears, Mr. de
+Freyne, which has caused me very great pain
+and anxiety&mdash;I mean, as a mother. And I
+wondered whether you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As a mother? Surely, Mrs. Wyburn, nothing
+against Romer? I'm sure I, as one of his oldest
+friends...."</p>
+
+<p>"Against Romer!" She drew herself up stiffly.
+"Most certainly not! There's never been a word
+breathed otherwise than in dear Romer's
+favour since he was a little boy."</p>
+
+<p>Harry appeared much relieved.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a great comfort to hear you say that.
+It's only what I was going to assure you."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides, do you suppose for one moment
+that if I had any fault to find with my son I
+should send for you?"</p>
+
+<p>She already had an annoying fancy that he
+was defeating her, laughing at her, and turning
+the tables.</p>
+
+<p>"It seemed certainly rather strange," Harry
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed! When I say I was troubled as a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>mother, I meant it in a very different sense.
+What I'm afraid of is that dear Romer might be
+worried if he heard the report to which I refer."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is?..."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him spitefully, yet with a
+reluctant admiration.</p>
+
+<p>He was irritatingly good-looking, good-humoured,
+and at his ease, and particularly
+well-dressed, without appearing in the least
+conscious of it. She wished immensely that he
+had been plain, or awkward, or even out at
+elbows, or absurdly dandified, or looked <i>nouveau
+riche</i>, or something! She felt jealous of him for
+Romer, and, at the back of her brain, she
+grudgingly and perversely sympathised a little
+with her daughter-in-law. Harry radiated a
+peculiar charm for women of all ages. He did
+not study them nor try very much to please
+them; the fascination was involuntary; he
+simply used it.</p>
+
+<p>"And that is, that you and my daughter-in-law,
+Valentia, were seen <i>alone</i>&mdash;&mdash;" she paused
+a moment, showing a latent instinct for
+dramatic effect.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled a little more, and bent his head
+forward with every sign of intelligent interest.</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Alone</i>&mdash;the other morning&mdash;at the British
+Museum!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>Somehow she felt the shot had missed fire. It
+had fallen flat. It was less effective than she had
+hoped. It did not sound so very shocking after all.</p>
+
+<p>He continued to smile with the air of waiting
+for the climax. She gathered herself together
+and went on&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I heard it from Miss Westbury, so it is a fact!"</p>
+
+<p>Harry thought of saying that he preferred an
+old wives' tale any day to an old maid's fact,
+but he only smiled on.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, if this is untrue, Mr. de Freyne&mdash;if
+it is a mistake, or a false report, you have
+merely to deny it. Assure me it is incorrect&mdash;on
+your word of honour&mdash;and I will then contradict
+it in the proper quarter."</p>
+
+<p>He decided on his line. "My dear lady, pray
+don't contradict it. As a report it is a gem&mdash;it is
+unique. Not merely because it's absolutely true&mdash;for,
+as a matter of fact, I think most reports
+are&mdash;but because of its utter unimportance! It
+seems to me so trivial&mdash;so dull&mdash;so wanting in
+interest to the general public."</p>
+
+<p>"You think reports are usually true, Mr. de
+Freyne?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am convinced they are. I believe firmly in
+the no-smoke-without-fire theory. Oh, do you
+know, I think it is <i>so</i> true!... This certainly
+is true&mdash;it's a solemn fact."</p>
+
+<p>"You admit it?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>"I do indeed! Surely I could hardly refuse to
+go when I was asked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you were asked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. And Romer is really such a very
+old friend of mine, I could hardly refuse his
+request. I may be wrong, but I think one should
+always be ready to take a little trouble for an
+old friend."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt you have very strict ideas on the
+duties and obligations of friendship! At <i>his</i>
+request&mdash;my son's?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; your son asked me to go and escort
+Valentia."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very peculiar; you must see that your
+explanation sounds extremely odd."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all odd," he answered softly, "if you
+will allow me to contradict you." He thought a
+moment. Then he went on: "You may have
+heard, perhaps, about the dance that little
+American, Mrs. Newhaven, is getting up at the
+Grafton Galleries for <i>Deaf and Dumb Dogs and
+Cats</i>. No? Well, every one is going, and they're
+arranging to have, by way of novelty, Quadrilles
+of different nationalities. Romer and his wife
+are to dance in the Egyptian Quadrille, and he
+asked me to take her to the British Museum to
+look round and see if we could find some inspiration
+for Egyptian costumes that wouldn't
+be too impossible. But when we got there, we
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>suddenly remembered the awful story about
+one of the mummies being unlucky, so we went
+into the Print Room and remained there."</p>
+
+<p>De Freyne paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, if that is all&mdash;if my son knows of
+your going, and even asked you to go, there's
+nothing more to be said ... though I think it
+very foolish, and I don't approve of any of that
+sort of thing at all."</p>
+
+<p>"What, not of Egyptian quadrilles, Mrs.
+Wyburn?" asked Harry, with surprised innocence
+and in a coaxing voice. "Why, I'm sure
+it will be frightfully harmless&mdash;in fact, very
+invigorating to the mind. It's not as though the
+dresses were becoming! We saw the most hideous
+things at the Museum. We met Lady Totness,
+who was dragging a wretched little boy about&mdash;I
+suppose as a punishment for something."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn smiled slightly. She began to
+feel rather inclined to relent at the implication
+that Lady Totness was hideous.</p>
+
+<p>"There you really are wrong, Mr. de Freyne.
+The boy was taken there as a treat."</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>treat</i>! For whom? For him? What a
+strange idea&mdash;I mean, to think it could be a
+treat to go anywhere with her, Mrs. Wyburn."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, rather," she acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, if that is really all that was
+troubling you, I do hope you're happy now?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>He said this with one of his subtle, insinuating
+changes of tone that were always so effective.
+Musicians will understand when I say it was
+like a change from the common chord in the
+minor to the dominant in the major. It was
+partly from force of habit, partly because he
+really wished to win Mrs. Wyburn over.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, now you've given the explanation
+it's, <i>so far</i>, all right. You'll have a cup of tea
+with me, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should enjoy it particularly. Let me ring."
+After a minute or two she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"But perhaps I might venture to suggest it
+might be better&mdash;more prudent&mdash;if you were
+to go about a little less with Valentia?... Of
+course, I quite see now that you're so devoted
+to Romer, and like a brother and so forth, but
+I can't help considering what people say."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call Lady Totness people, Mrs.
+Wyburn! Think what a disagreeable, insincere
+woman she is&mdash;not a bit <i>femme du monde</i>, and
+so exceptionally stupid and spiteful!"</p>
+
+<p>Harry stayed with her for an hour, having
+tea, chatting, telling her stories against every
+one she didn't like, and speaking with a kind
+of tender and admiring familiarity of both
+Valentia and Romer, in a way that at once
+reassured and flattered her.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, she actually found herself begging
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>Harry to use his influence with the young
+couple to be less frivolous and mondains, and
+not to be always going out, which he promised
+to do. She even confided to him her great wish
+that they had two or three children, which
+would steady them down, and he warmly
+agreed with her, but said that he felt that on
+that subject it was, perhaps, hardly for him to
+interfere.</p>
+
+<p>Of course he confided in her, in his turn,
+how frightfully hard up one was, with no one
+buying pictures, and outsiders winning all the
+big races after having no earthly chance on any
+form they had shown that season. Mrs. Wyburn
+positively tried to talk racing with him for a
+minute or two&mdash;rather pathetically&mdash;but soon
+got out of her depth and fell back on Art. She
+said she thought, candidly, that Harry's portrait
+of his cousin was a pity.</p>
+
+<p>They parted excellent friends, she even asking
+him as a favour not to tell Romer the reason
+of his visit. To Valentia he might mention it, as
+Mrs. Wyburn thought it might be a lesson to her.</p>
+
+<p>Harry professed, at first, some little scruple
+on the point. He scarcely liked, he said, the
+idea of concealing it from Romer. They always
+told each other everything. But Mrs. Wyburn
+was afraid of her son's anger&mdash;which she could
+not endure, unless <i>she</i> was in the right&mdash;and of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>appearing ridiculously meddling. Harry owned
+that her conduct <i>might</i> seem rather malicious
+and absurd. At last he consented, and it was
+agreed that neither of them should ever say
+anything about it to Romer at all.</p>
+
+<p>It is scarcely necessary to say that Harry kept
+his promise of silence to the letter. Had he not
+done so the story would at least have had the
+interest of novelty, for Romer had never yet
+heard anything about the expedition to the
+British Museum, and he never did.</p>
+
+<p>A week or two later, when Mrs. Newhaven's
+ball at the Grafton Galleries was described in
+the paper, Mrs. Wyburn, who read the account,
+observed that there was no reference whatever
+to quadrilles of various nationalities&mdash;Egyptian
+or otherwise; and she rather wondered at the
+omission. But it did not occur to her to suppose
+that this portion of the entertainment had been
+entirely imaginary&mdash;a lurid figment of Harry's
+vivid fancy and fertile invention.</p>
+
+<p>He left, it must be said, on the old lady a
+lasting impression&mdash;by no means an unfavourable
+one. Even when she had reason to grow
+seriously anxious again on the same subject,
+she never could bring herself in her own mind
+to blame Harry&mdash;she could not at heart think
+ill of him. She was only extremely angry with
+Romer and Valentia.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FRIENDS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Harry had baffled Mrs. Wyburn for the
+time. He always dealt with his difficulties
+one by one as they cropped up, not <i>en masse</i>,
+and invariably in a manner that relieved the
+tension for a short time only&mdash;he rarely did
+anything radical.</p>
+
+<p>His financial position was, however, growing
+rather serious, and occasionally the thought of
+Miss Walmer flitted through his mind.</p>
+
+<p>To marry Miss Walmer would be far the
+quickest and simplest way out of his difficulties,
+and she would really be very little trouble, as
+little trouble, perhaps, as any wife could be.
+Besides, Harry had, with reason, great confidence
+in his own powers of dealing with
+women&mdash;getting whatever it was that he
+wanted from them, and afterwards preventing
+their being a nuisance. But he did not much like
+the idea of this mercenary marriage, because he
+was not in the least tired of his romance with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>Valentia, and saw great difficulties in the way
+of keeping it up later on. He had worrying
+doubts as to her consenting to revive it afterwards
+if he married.</p>
+
+<p>Her grey eyes and soft fair hair with its
+dense waves held a lasting fascination for him.
+It has been well said that for each individual
+there exists in some other being some detail
+which he or she could find only in this particular
+person. It might be the merest trifle. Harry
+knew what it was in Val that had a specially
+compelling charm to him&mdash;it was the way her
+hair grew on her forehead. And there was
+something childlike in her expression that made
+a peculiar appeal to him. The power her face
+had over him was undiminished&mdash;it had begun
+seriously when he painted her portrait, and had
+grown gradually since then. And she was the
+only woman he had ever met whose affection
+for him did not cool his own enthusiasm. On
+the contrary, it was one of the things which
+held him to her most.</p>
+
+<p>In a sense he was even loyal to her. Harry was
+not one of those extravagant Don Juans who
+made conquests solely for the gratification of
+their vanity by adding to their collection.
+Essentially cool and calculating, he used his
+attractiveness only when he thought it would
+be of some genuine value to him, or some
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>real satisfaction. As a Lovelace he was economical.</p>
+
+<p>Though a great connoisseur of feminine
+charm and beauty, and superficially susceptible
+and excitable, with all this, as many women
+knew, Harry was as hard as nails.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia was the only woman for whom he
+had ever felt, besides the physical attraction, a
+kind of indulgent tenderness. This was partly,
+no doubt, because they had been fond of each
+other as children, and because of a racial sympathy,
+a <i>sentiment de famille</i> due to their
+relationship. But it was not really to be depended
+on.</p>
+
+<p>No one could be a more charmingly devoted
+lover than Harry. There was no one like him
+for little attentions and inattentions, charming
+little thoughts, caressing words, and the little
+jealous scenes that women value. It was not
+the mere mechanically experienced love-making
+that women see through and to which they
+often prefer a clumsy sincerity. It was natural,
+spontaneous. He had, in fact, a genius for love-making,
+but he had not, like Romer, a genius
+for love. Harry had all the gift of expression&mdash;poor
+Romer had only the gift of feeling.</p>
+
+<p>But notwithstanding Harry's magnetism, a
+woman once disillusioned by him was disillusioned
+for ever. Women never forgave him.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>His romances generally ended suddenly, and
+always irrevocably.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Harry had no great love of truth in the abstract,
+but, at least, he never deceived himself.
+He saw through his own unscrupulousness, and
+rather despised it just as he despised his own
+work as a painter. He had grown really fond
+of Van Buren for the simple, sincere qualities
+in which Harry knew himself to be deficient;
+and the American's whole-hearted admiration&mdash;almost
+infatuation&mdash;for him gave Harry the
+pleasure one feels in the frank devotion of a
+child. It touched him, even while he intended
+to make use of it, because it was his nature to
+make use of everything. It is an infallible sign
+of the second-rate in nature and intellect to
+make use of everything and every one. The
+genius is incapable of making use of people. It
+is for the second-rate clever people to make use
+of him.</p>
+
+<p>One morning Harry had heard unexpectedly
+that he had sold a picture&mdash;a thing that rarely
+happened&mdash;and was looking at the cheque he
+had received, when Van Buren came into the
+studio. Harry told the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Harry, I do congratulate you, with
+all my heart! What are you going to do with
+that?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>"Frame it," said Harry. "It's the only one
+I've had for three years. It's a curiosity."</p>
+
+<p>The American laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, I guess what you're really going to
+do&mdash;you're going to give yourself the humble
+joy of paying some of the more pressing
+liabilities. I know you!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, that would be mad extravagance!
+Oh no. You see, this cheque is&mdash;just
+enough to be no earthly use."</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren sat down.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, if you'd only let me.... But I know
+that vexes you, so I won't talk of it. You're
+Quixotic, that's what's the matter with you."
+He smiled, pleased with the word. "Yes,
+Quixotic! I want to speak to you about your
+cousin&mdash;I mean Miss Daphne, the beauteous
+broo-nette."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how do you think you're getting on?"
+asked Harry, who already knew from Valentia
+that it was hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>"Not as well as I should like, Harry. I can't
+say I feel I'm making any very great progress.
+She's a dream, but I'm afraid she regards me
+as a heavy-weight. She's only a child, really,
+I know. She would prefer a little boy of her
+own age who would make her laugh. Maybe
+she thinks I'm too old. What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"You must give her time."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>"I pay her every little attention that I can,"
+said Van Buren seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you're too attentive."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd give her anything in the world she
+wanted, Harry, if she'd let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, give her a miss for safety."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;this evening you're going to meet
+her at a dance, aren't you&mdash;at the Walmers'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I'm looking forward to that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't go&mdash;don't turn up. Then she'll
+miss you. Say, to-morrow, you were prevented."</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren began to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I see what you mean. It's an idea. You do
+hand me some good advice! Is it what you
+would do yourself, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's what I'm always doing."</p>
+
+<p>"But then I don't like the idea of being rude.
+One always wants to give the impression of being
+well-bred, no matter what the facts maybe."</p>
+
+<p>"It won't be rude. She'll be thinking about
+you much more than if you were there, wondering
+why you're not."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean it will keep her guessing, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the idea. I shan't say you're not
+coming. I'll pretend to be expecting you too."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps I'll try that. I know I've only
+got an outside chance. She counts me as one of
+the also-rans."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>"Are you really very devoted, old chap? Would
+you break your heart if it didn't come off?"</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren thought a moment, then said with
+his scrupulous truthfulness&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no: I can hardly say that, Harry. I'm
+not so far gone as all that. But I think she's
+a very beautiful, charming, well-brought-up
+young lady&mdash;a typical English girl&mdash;a June rose,
+a real peach. She's the ideal of the sort of girl
+I'd like to marry. But if she's out of my reach&mdash;well,
+I should resign myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you try for some one else? There are
+probably about a million girls just like that, you
+know, who would be only too delighted."</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"She's the only girl I should care about marrying.
+If it doesn't come off I shall go back to
+New York. And I do wish you'd come with me.
+A fellow with your talents would do splendidly
+there. Why, I'd find you a place in the Bank in
+New York. I'd see you made your fortune
+pretty quick. But you'd never leave London."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure. Anyway, we'll give it a
+chance till the autumn."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I must see it to a finish."</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't settle down here, then, would
+you marry an American girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. In that case I shan't marry at all. I shall
+settle down to the life of a lonely bachelor&mdash;choose
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>the broad and easy path that leads to
+single misery, Harry." He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Instead of the straight and narrow road that
+leads to married unhappiness," said Harry.
+"So you <i>are</i> very keen on Daphne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly that, perhaps. But it must be
+her or no one for a life-partner. She's the only
+girl who ever made any appeal to me from the
+point of view of domestic life. When I think of
+a happy home and a fireside with her, it makes
+me curl like an autumn leaf."</p>
+
+<p>"What a curious chap you are," said Harry,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"See here," said Van Buren, taking a letter
+out of his pocket. "I've got a letter from a lady&mdash;it's
+signed Flora Luscombe&mdash;but I don't seem
+to remember anything about her."</p>
+
+<p>Harry took the letter. It was written on
+mauve paper in a somewhat straggling hand,
+and was dated from "Dimsdale Mansions,
+St. Stephen's Road, North Kensington." It was
+a pathetic, yet cheery invitation to tea.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Miss Luscombe, of the Tank, as we call
+it," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the actress? Well, I think I shall go,
+Harry. I've never had the opportunity of mixing
+much in dramatic circles. It's real kind of
+her to have asked me, I must say. I didn't even
+remember her."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>"No one ever remembers her. But it's amusing
+and absurd. You'll meet some of the people
+you like. Flora will show you round&mdash;point out
+all the obscurities there, and so forth. Oh, she's
+a good soul&mdash;old Flora."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she old, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"About twenty-three, or thirty-three. I like
+her, though she's rather a snob."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, they say all Americans are snobs, Harry,
+but I feel sure I'm not. Still, if I really liked a
+man I can't say I should turn against him even
+if he had a title."</p>
+
+<p>"And if I really hated a person I should never
+get to like him, even if he had a bad reputation."</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren looked surprised and impressed,
+also delighted.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that a paradox, or an epigram, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think!"</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you tell me what it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's bosh," said Harry impressively, "mere
+bosh!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me what you really mean by it."</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know? I haven't the very
+slightest idea," Harry said, stretching himself.</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren looked thoughtfully out of the
+window.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you suppose our ro-mances will
+end?"</p>
+
+<p>"As badly as possible; romances always do,"
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>said Harry. "We ought to be only too thankful
+that they end at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I'm afraid you're a pessimist! How
+do you define a pessimist, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"What a mania you have for definition, old
+chap! I think I agree with the little girl who
+said that an optimist is the man who looks after
+your eyes, and the pessimist the person who
+looks after your feet."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's very subtle. I quite see what
+she means. There's a lot in that idea, Harry."
+He thought gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there? Well, come out to lunch."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>A HOME CHAT</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Yes, Romer, on the whole I don't think
+our season's been a success. With any
+amount of struggle, worry, bother, clothes,
+motoring, and making up parties, we've just
+succeeded in not getting Daphne married to
+Van Buren, and putting your mother in a perpetual,
+constant, lasting bad temper."</p>
+
+<p>"Have we?" said Romer.</p>
+
+<p>He was sitting in an arm-chair listening, as
+usual, while Valentia talked. He did not always
+understand what she was saying, nor did he
+even always know the subject she was discussing,
+but he loved to hear her voice, that was
+like an incantation in his ears. He said a few
+words occasionally, desiring that the musical
+sound should continue.</p>
+
+<p>"All our old friends seem to have grown dull
+and sensible except Harry, and he's been rather
+jerky and unsatisfactory&mdash;and all the new ones
+have turned out complete failures. When I say
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>they're complete failures, of course I mean
+they've bored me. But, of course, it may not
+have been their object in life to do anything
+else."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Look at Mr. Rathbone&mdash;a man like that,
+tattooed, and collecting old programmes of theatres.
+Well, he's as dull as ditchwater, perfectly
+stupid and always saying the right thing to the
+wrong people. Then Captain Foster, who seemed
+perfectly harmless and only decorative,
+turns out to be really dangerous, and to count.
+He's in love with Daphne, and he has got his
+mother, who is very weak and foolish and
+sentimental, round on his side, and Daphne's
+always going to tea or to lunch there, and
+they've utterly spoilt her&mdash;at least, her taste
+in hats has gone all wrong, and she told me that
+Mrs. Foster had pink paper shavings in her
+drawing-room fireplace, and asked me why I
+didn't have them too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And though she's very good, I know
+it'll end in our having to give in, and a pretty
+wedding, and a tiny flat, and utter wretchedness!
+And Daphne will get to like old Mrs.
+Foster better than me, and they'll have five
+hundred a year at the most; and even if they
+aren't really miserable she'll have to gradually
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>grow suburban, and come up to the theatre and
+have to rush off so as to catch the last train
+back to Boshan or Doddington or somewhere!
+I mean if they take a little house out of town&mdash;near
+Mrs. Foster. However, I'm not going to
+give in just yet.... I could understand a slight
+sacrifice&mdash;or even a big one if I were in love
+with Captain Foster, but I'm not. I suppose
+you'll say that I needn't be, but that isn't the
+point. The utter absurdity is that all Daphne
+wants of him she could see now. No one minds
+her seeing him. But why should she break up
+her life and spoil her future for it? Of course,
+<i>that</i> part is <i>his</i> idea. He is so selfish that he
+isn't satisfied with the harmless fun they have
+now, but wants her to live all her life in a sort
+of workman's cottage or tenement building just
+for the sake of the joy, privilege, and honour of
+having every meal with him!"</p>
+
+<p>"What a brute!" said Romer mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't he? And suppose a war broke out, and
+that darling, handsome boy perhaps put an end
+to suddenly by a bullet, or mentioned in despatches,
+or something, and promoted&mdash;oh,
+please don't talk to me about it any more,
+Romer. I hate the life. But I suppose she'll have
+to go her own way."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia paused and looked pensively in the
+glass.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>"And dear Van Buren, he's been pretty badly
+treated, I think. I suppose he knows it isn't my
+fault or Harry's. I try to make up for it in lots
+of ways&mdash;by getting him an introduction to the
+man who wants to fly across the Atlantic. I
+really hoped he would say to Van Buren, 'Fly
+with me!' but he didn't, and in the most
+roundabout way and by the most fearful lot of
+trouble&mdash;chiefly through me&mdash;he was asked to
+dinner to meet that other man&mdash;I forget his
+name, the one who keeps on discovering the
+North Pole. And it seems he is a dear, and
+awfully good-looking. And then he&mdash;Van, I
+mean&mdash;has met Bernard Shaw, and Graham
+White, and Lloyd George, and Thomas Hardy,
+and Sargent, and Lord Roberts, and Henry
+James, and even Gabrielle Ray, so he hasn't
+had such a bad time in London. I don't see that
+he has anything to complain of, do you, Romer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shouldn't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"That was what he wanted, you know,"
+continued Valentia. "But if we couldn't get
+him a wife as well, it's not our fault. I'm sure
+we've tried our best. He's such a dear, and very
+fond of England. He has been most useful to
+Harry, I'm sure; and&mdash;&mdash;I think the new
+fashions are simply frightful. The new way
+they're going to do the hair will be revoltingly
+unbecoming, and the whole thing will make
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>every one look hopelessly dowdy. The smarter
+you are, the more of a frump you will look!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say, Val!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will&mdash;I mean I will, but I won't....
+Because I'm not going to follow the fashion like
+a sheep. And if you're not very careful I shall
+dress in a style of my own."</p>
+
+<p>"Like a sheep! Do sheep follow the fashion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they do. Didn't you know that?
+What one does all the rest do. Of course it
+doesn't change so often&mdash;even in the best
+Southdown circles&mdash;at least <i>we</i> don't notice the
+change. When a new kind of 'baa' comes in and
+they all echo it we don't see any difference, but
+I don't suppose they see any difference in our
+fashions either. Oh, and Romer, I've been
+worried because I feel I've got so frightfully
+empty-headed and unintellectual through just
+<i>living</i>, never reading or thinking, when we go
+down to the Green Gate I shall read a lot of
+serious books. I'm going to read H. G. Wells,
+and Hichens, and Aristotle, and some history,
+and all sorts of 'improving' things. When are
+we going?"</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as possible," said Romer, brightening
+up. "Let's go next Wednesday."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can't be ready quite as soon as that,
+Romer dear! Let's go on Tuesday. I'll arrange
+it all."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>"Good!" said Romer, beaming.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll get Harry to come down with us."</p>
+
+<p>"Thought he was going yachting with the
+Walmers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, he's not, after all.... He doesn't
+really care for the sea."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, of course, is sorry for Van Buren,"
+continued Valentia. "And yet he takes Daphne's
+part about Cyril Foster. He knows it's spoiling
+her, but he thinks she ought to be spoilt; he's
+so fond of Daphne."</p>
+
+<p>"Why doesn't he marry her himself?" asked
+Romer.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry?" She looked at him in surprise.
+"Why, Romer, what a harpist you are. If I've
+told you once, I've told you a hundred times, he
+never marries! Harry has a great many bad
+habits, goodness knows. But marrying isn't one
+of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he's keen on some one else?"
+asked Romer after a rather long pause.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed annoyed at the question, then
+smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know! The other day I called at the
+studio unexpectedly to ask for something I'd
+forgotten, and found Harry improvising at the
+piano&mdash;you know that way he has of improvising
+from memory&mdash;an inaccurate memory&mdash;of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>some well-known composer. I've never
+known him do it except when he wanted to&mdash;please
+some woman. Well, Lady Walmer was
+there, leaning over the piano and listening.
+Should you think from that he's keen, as you
+call it, on her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lady Walmer! At her age!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Romer, she's no older than anybody
+else! It doesn't matter nowadays in the very
+slightest degree whether one is twenty-eight,
+or thirty-eight, or even forty-eight. To a
+modern man it's all exactly the same. Of course,
+if a flapper is what is required, well then,
+naturally, he must be shown to another department.
+But apart from that&mdash;why, Lady Walmer
+would be quite as dangerous a rival for me as a
+woman ten years or twenty years younger.
+And I'm not twenty-five yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Rival to <i>you</i>? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Romer stared at her, a spark of his fanatic
+admiration showing in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed and hurried on.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I never mean anything. I know
+what you think, Harry is not a marrying man,
+but he might become one. But a girl like Alec
+Walmer! With the figure of a suffragette and
+the mind of a canary who plays cricket, or a
+goose who goes in for golf&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Heaps of cash."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>"Yes, I know. But Harry's an artist&mdash;he needs
+sympathy."</p>
+
+<p>"He's got his head screwed on the right way."</p>
+
+<p>"But his heart's in the right place."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the right place?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be irritating, Romer. We'll go to the
+Green Gate on Monday then. And now I must
+go out and order a short tweed skirt, and a
+garden roller, and a few other things that we
+shall need in the country. Leave it all to me!
+No, I never forget anything; even your mother
+says I'm practical. And oh, do let's try and put
+her in a good temper before we go away. You'd
+better go and see her and say good-bye to-day,
+early in the afternoon, alone. And then I'll go
+in late and take away the impression of anything
+you've said wrong. Do you see, darling? Dear
+Romer!"</p>
+
+<p>She went out of the room like a sunbeam in
+a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>Romer followed her with a wondering expression.
+To him her movements, her hair, her eyes
+seemed to suggest some fascinating language he
+had not yet learnt. She seemed to him almost
+a magic creature.</p>
+
+<p>As usual, he showed his sensations simply by
+obeying. He went to say good-bye to his mother.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>VALENTIA'S VISIT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Romer's mother, looking intensely cross&mdash;it
+was her form of deep thought&mdash;was re-embroidering,
+with extra little stitches, and
+unnecessary little French knots, and elaborate
+little buttonholes that would never see
+a button, a large and fine piece of embroidery
+on which she had been working for many
+months. She had that decadent love of minute
+finish in the unessential so often seen in persons
+of a nervous yet persistent temperament.</p>
+
+<p>She was expecting her daughter-in-law.
+Romer had said, "Val will look in this afternoon."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Valentia arrived, delightfully dressed, and,
+to the casual observer, looking just as usual, but
+in her costume there was just that nuance of
+difference&mdash;what was it?&mdash;extra sobriety, a
+more subdued look&mdash;some trifle that she had
+worn last year to suggest to the seeing eye a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>hint of praiseworthy economy?&mdash;at any rate,
+a shade that other young married women
+would recognise at once as the right note when
+calling on one's mother-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn greeted her with real pleasure,
+and with far more warmth than she ever
+showed to her son (her affection for him being
+authentic). The sight of Valentia, however,
+always genuinely raised her spirits. She was
+fascinated by her, and had an obscure desire
+to gain Valentia's liking, and even admiration&mdash;by
+force, if necessary! At the same time she
+felt jealousy, disapproval, an odd pride in the
+girl's charming appearance, and a venomous
+desire to give her slight pain.</p>
+
+<p>"Romer has been here, I see&mdash;I mean, I
+guess he has by the cigarette. He's the only
+person who's allowed to smoke here. Yes,
+Mrs. Wyburn, we're off on Wednesday. Won't
+you miss us awfully? But I shall be very glad
+to go. I've really had enough of the season."
+Val spoke with a shade of weariness.</p>
+
+<p>"No wonder! I suppose you've hardly had
+one quiet evening at home the last three weeks?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely not one. Even when we're
+quite alone Harry comes round, and often his
+American friend too."</p>
+
+<p>This was a challenge.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia was sitting opposite the light, dressed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>in blue, in a black hat of moderate size, looking
+straight at the elder lady with a smile, and
+stirring her cup of tea.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn admired her pluck and the fit
+of her dress.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, exactly&mdash;just what I should have
+thought. You know what a horror I have of
+displaying anything in the shape or form of
+<i>interference</i>, dear Valentia. But, since you've
+mentioned it yourself, may I just say, doesn't
+it seem almost a pity that you should never be
+alone with your husband?"</p>
+
+<p>Valentia began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, really, Mrs. Wyburn, why do you
+assume that? But of course we're longing for a
+quiet time. That is why we're going away so
+early. What <i>delicious</i> China tea! Yours is the
+only house where one gets it quite like this."</p>
+
+<p>She put down her cup, which was more than
+half full, with a slight sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Romer hates China tea too," said Mrs.
+Wyburn. "It would be really better for your
+nerves if you'd drink it, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"And when do you go to Bournemouth?"</p>
+
+<p>"The first week in August. So I shall be able
+to come down one day&mdash;as Romer asked me&mdash;before
+I go, and just have a peep at what you're
+all doing at the Green Gate."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled with grotesque playfulness.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>"Oh, that will be nice," said Valentia. "It
+must be looking lovely now. Did Romer say
+anything else of any importance?"</p>
+
+<p>"He never says much, as you know, important
+or not! He's very like his poor father, who
+really used to sit opposite to me for hours at a
+time without opening his lips."</p>
+
+<p>"A strong, silent man," murmured Val sympathetically.
+"I know so well what you mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed you don't," snapped Mrs. Wyburn.
+"He was the weakest creature&mdash;<i>morally</i>, I
+mean, poor dear&mdash;that ever breathed. He was
+a very tall, fine man, but yet any pretty woman
+could turn him round her little finger! It was
+his most marked characteristic."</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy! Devoted to you, of course. Romer's
+often told me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure he hasn't. What can Romer know
+of my domestic troubles, as he was just four
+when he lost his poor father? But however that
+may be, I do hope, Valentia, you will wear
+warm, <i>sensible</i> clothes for the garden. I never
+quite like the idea of your sitting out on that
+little terrace late in the evening with practically
+nothing on your shoulders. People should
+be so careful of the night air."</p>
+
+<p>"How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Wyburn! But
+I have a wrap&mdash;I never sit out without a wrap."</p>
+
+<p>"Pink chiffon, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>"Now how did you know? You seem to have
+second sight!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I guessed as much. Very candidly, dear
+Valentia, I don't approve of pink chiffon. But
+we women of an elder generation are never
+listened to, though our advice is worth hearing,
+I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, Mrs. Wyburn, don't say that. What
+would you advise instead then&mdash;a red crochet
+woollen shawl? I'll get one, of course. How
+lovely that embroidery is getting that you're
+doing! I remember last February thinking that
+it was as beautiful as it could be, and now it
+is more wonderful still. Let me look."</p>
+
+<p>She bent down her pretty head to admire it.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it my fancy, or the light, or hasn't your
+hair grown a little brighter in colour lately,
+Valentia dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do you really think so? I'm so glad. I
+was afraid it was just the same&mdash;just as it was
+in Harry's portrait of me, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"It does look very like the portrait. But, very
+frankly&mdash;you won't mind my saying so?&mdash;I
+think that if it were not quite so fair it would
+be an improvement."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, naughty Mrs. Wyburn! Fancy your
+wanting me to touch up my hair&mdash;make it
+dark at the roots, I suppose, as so many people
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>seem to do! Oh! I wouldn't! What would
+Romer say? He likes it like this."</p>
+
+<p>Before the elder lady had quite recovered
+from the blow, Valentia went on carelessly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Daphne sent her love to you. She mayn't
+have time to come and see you before we leave."</p>
+
+<p>"Has she been going to any more fancy balls
+as Rosalind?" asked Mrs. Wyburn sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>"No, oh no. There haven't been any more."</p>
+
+<p>"I heard a report&mdash;oh, only a report&mdash;that
+Mr. Van Buren is a great admirer of your
+sister's; indeed, it was even said that they were
+going to be engaged."</p>
+
+<p>This was really a sore subject to Valentia.
+Her temper began to waver slightly. It had been
+a very pet scheme of hers, and only Daphne
+herself had defeated it by refusing the millionaire.
+But of course she knew better than to tell
+Mrs. Wyburn that.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you heard that. I believe he does
+admire her very much. But I hope I'm not
+going to lose Daphne yet."</p>
+
+<p>Something in her expression warned Mrs.
+Wyburn, who said affectionately&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's plenty of time; she's <i>so</i> young.
+I don't believe in girls marrying till they're
+sensible women and know something of housekeeping,
+and are fitted to deal with their
+servants."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>"I hope you haven't been having any more
+trouble with yours lately?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I have! I had just sent for the housemaid
+to give her notice because she never dusts
+the lustres properly, when she turned round
+and gave it&mdash;notice, I mean&mdash;to <i>me</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"What a blessing! It saved you the trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary, if you knew anything of
+domestics, Valentia, you would see that it put
+me in a most awkward position&mdash;most awkward;
+and now I shall have to live at Mrs.
+Hunt's!"</p>
+
+<p>"To live at Mrs. Hunt's?" repeated Val, as if
+stupefied. "Why, you're not going to leave your
+charming house? And who is Mrs. Hunt?&mdash;an
+old friend of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you really know who Mrs. Hunt is,
+Valentia?" Mrs. Wyburn's voice trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I haven't the faintest idea."</p>
+
+<p>"She's a Registry Off&mdash;&mdash;Well, may you
+never know! Certainly I'm not going to leave
+my house. The idea of such a thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm <i>so</i> glad," said Val, getting up. "I'm
+afraid I must leave it, though. I have so many
+little things to do before I go. Now, Mrs.
+Wyburn, take great care of yourself, and I do
+<i>hope</i> you'll get a nice housemaid quite soon.
+That sort of thing is so worrying, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn accompanied her to the door,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>and as usual stood on the landing with her,
+complaining of various troubles, and finally
+parted with caressing words and advice about
+going for country clothes to "a little dressmaker&mdash;quite
+near here&mdash;who runs up one's blouses
+and skirts."</p>
+
+<p>"Does she? Fancy! She must be small! Good-bye!" ...</p>
+
+<p>... "What a woman!" murmured Val as she
+got into the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>"What a wife for Romer!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Wyburn as the door shut.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>A SUGGESTION</h3>
+
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe, humming a tune, was
+wandering round her drawing-room, arranging
+it. She always hummed a little tune
+when she was alone, if possible some quaint old
+French air. Not that she was really alone now;
+only her invisible mother was with her. To do
+her justice, Flora took as much trouble to impress
+this almost imperceptible audience as if
+she represented a large crowd.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she said. She dusted a little blue
+vase and put it further back. "Now you're nice
+and tidy. No, you go back there, you ugly
+thing!" pouting at a photograph, "you're not
+wanted to-day! Come out more in the light,
+Lady Charles! We want you to be seen. <i>That's</i>
+better!"</p>
+
+<p>From the depths of an arm-chair, where she
+was hidden, Mrs. Luscombe, who was watching
+her with intense irritation, said sharply&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you expect to-day?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>"Oh! how you startled me, Mummy! I didn't
+know you were there.... Isn't it funny, when
+you wear that dark red dress, <i>just</i> the colour of
+the armchair, one doesn't see you?"</p>
+
+<p>She went on humming in the low, sweet
+voice, "<i>La violette double, double&mdash;la violette
+double-ra-ra.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Pray stop that, Flora. My nerves won't bear
+it. Who did you say you expect?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Rathbone, darling, if you <i>must</i> know.
+Mr. John Ryland Rathbone, to be exact. You
+know he's one of the Catford Rathbones, don't
+you, Mummy?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's a Catford Rathbone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear mamma!" she laughed. "It's quite a
+good old family. One of the untitled aristocracy."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you told me his father was a
+farmer?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear&mdash;that's a little mistake. I told you
+his father had <i>taken</i> to farming&mdash;as a hobby.
+Besides, that's just what I mean&mdash;a fine old yeoman
+stock&mdash;the backbone of the country."</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you praising up this Mr. Backbone&mdash;or
+Rathbone&mdash;so much? Is he in love with
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Flora laughed coquettishly, putting on her
+Russian Princess manner. It was voluble, disdainful,
+and condescending. She often changed,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>quite suddenly, from an <i>ing&eacute;nue</i> to a <i>grande
+dame</i>, and then to an adventuress and back again
+before you knew where you were.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he's in love with me. What of
+that? Poor boy, he must take his chance like the
+others! '<i>La violette double, double&mdash;&mdash;</i>' Oh, I
+forgot, dear. I beg your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>"What's he coming here for?" pursued the
+relentless mother.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe now became a soubrette of a
+somewhat hooligan type, and pretended to
+throw a little feather duster she was holding
+into the depths of the arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p>"That remains to be seen. But I'm a girl who
+knows how to take care of herself. I shall keep
+him in his place, old dear. Don't you worry."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't."</p>
+
+<p>There was a ring at the door. Flora blushed
+genuinely, and put some powder on. She became
+sweet and tactful again, and refined, the
+amiable woman of the world. She helped her
+mother out of the arm-chair, quite unnecessarily,
+but perhaps to hurry her departure.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better leave us alone now, darling,"
+she said, "and girlie will tell you all about it
+afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Luscombe ran like a hare through a side
+door.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>The servant announced, throwing open the
+folding doors, "Mr. Rathbone."</p>
+
+<p>In two seconds the feather-duster was behind
+a screen, and Flora, looking really very handsome&mdash;she
+was, as usual in the daytime, in
+semi-evening dress&mdash;was reading a little book
+covered in old vellum, and kept for the purpose
+of her being found reading it. She put it down
+and welcomed her guest charmingly.</p>
+
+<p>Rathbone, looking very fair and pink and
+rather determined, had brought with him a
+kind of case containing his collection of old
+theatre programmes, so that he gave the impression
+of being a diplomat of high importance
+with a portfolio.</p>
+
+<p>She helped him prettily to show her the programmes,
+and was pleased to see that there was
+something else on his mind.</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a cigarette and they had tea. He
+told her the ancient story of his writing to Cissie
+Loftus, and how he had never received an
+answer. She welcomed the anecdote as though
+it combined the brilliance of a jewel with the
+freshness of a daisy.</p>
+
+<p>Then he spoke in a somewhat thick voice and
+with that rather gruff manner that she associated
+with sincerity.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Luscombe, I ..."&mdash;he sighed deeply.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>"To tell you the truth, there's something&mdash;for a
+long time I've wanted to ask you."</p>
+
+<p>He fixed on her intently his blue eyes, in
+which there was an ardent glare.</p>
+
+<p>"Really, Mr. Rathbone? What can I do for
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal. The question is, what would
+you do for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that depends," she said, smiling, looking
+down, and enjoying herself.</p>
+
+<p>"Not to put too fine a point upon it, Miss
+Luscombe&mdash;&mdash;"; he stopped nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Luscombe sounds so formal," she
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't allow me to call you Flora,
+would you?"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, but she thought he looked disappointed.
+Perhaps he was a man who needed
+difficulties&mdash;opposition.</p>
+
+<p>"Well ... I ... it depends," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Flora, you're a very charming
+woman. I have a great admiration for you. What
+is more, I believe you to be a thoroughly
+good&mdash;&mdash;" he hesitated again; was he going to
+say 'woman,' 'actress?'&mdash;he decided on 'sort.'</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"Now I'll reveal to you the dream of my life,
+which I wouldn't tell to anybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if I can guess it?" she said, wishing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>he would hurry up. Lady Charles was coming
+at half-past five to get the address of that fur
+place Flora knew of, where you got things practically
+for nothing&mdash;and they were worth it, too.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I'm not so very young," continued
+the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you're only about thirty-four, aren't
+you? I call that young."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you&mdash;do you really? Now I was afraid
+I was getting rather too old to begin, as it were,
+a fresh life. Well now"&mdash;he came a little nearer
+and touched her hand, which lay on the table; it
+was a pretty hand, thin and bony, with pink
+polished nails and a garnet ring&mdash;"will you do
+it for me? will you help me? will you not think
+me foolish&mdash;too daring&mdash;too sanguine?..."</p>
+
+<p>"What?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I see you've guessed. Yes. I want to
+go on the stage."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>MISS WALMER</h3>
+
+
+<p>"And so you see, don't you, Lady Walmer,
+that I really simply couldn't do it&mdash;I
+mean I must do it. They're expecting me there
+for the whole summer. How could I throw them
+over at the last minute?"</p>
+
+<p>Harry spoke in his most convincing voice. He
+was calling on Lady Walmer, and they were
+both sitting in her little yellow boudoir. She had
+just come in from a bazaar, and was wearing a
+rather angry-looking hat, very much turned up
+on one side, with enormous purple feathers. She
+was looking very far from pleased. Her handsome
+chin appeared squarer than usual. There
+was a look in her eyes that more than one man
+besides Harry would have been by no means
+anxious to meet.</p>
+
+<p>She drew off her gloves, stroked one over the
+other thoughtfully, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you promise to come on the yacht?
+The whole summer's spoilt for Alec."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>"I hoped I could&mdash;I thought I could manage
+it. Surely you understand&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But it's got to come to that sooner or later,
+Harry. You can't make an omelette without
+breaking eggs. If you want to be a respectable,
+dull married man, you'll have to dissolve your
+romance, you know. I should have thought you
+were the last person to be weak about anybody
+else's feelings!&mdash;No, it's your own, my dear boy."</p>
+
+<p>Harry's colour rose a little.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Lady Walmer! I'm going to tell&mdash;my
+cousin Valentia&mdash;all about it&mdash;I mean about
+my hopes. I'm certain that she will be charming
+about it&mdash;only too glad, for my sake."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! And yet I thought she was human! Or&mdash;is
+there some one else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly there's some one else&mdash;there's
+Romer. She's very devoted to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, my boy, we should get on so very
+much better if you wouldn't tell so many
+unnecessary fibs," remarked the lady.</p>
+
+<p>She stood up and drew the hatpins out of
+her hat.</p>
+
+<p>He said, "I'm quite frank with you. I don't
+think I've been anything else. And, after all, I
+only ask to do it in my own way&mdash;at my own
+time. To choose my moment. Really, one can't
+behave like an <i>impossible</i> bounder."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, can't one? Well, perhaps not."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>She took the hat off and put it on a table,
+giving the impression suddenly, without it, of
+being smooth, a little bald, and very good-tempered.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll forgive me, Lady Walmer&mdash;you'll
+understand? I should think that in about
+three or four weeks I shall be able to join you
+somewhere. But, about fixing the date&mdash;that's
+impossible. Can't I see Alec to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled graciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly you may; I want you to. You must
+cheer her up and say nice things to her. Poor
+child, I wish she weren't so ridiculously pleased
+with you. You don't care two straws for her."</p>
+
+<p>"I give you my word of honour that I will
+make her happy."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you'll make her as happy as any
+one would. It's always something to get one's
+wish, even if the wish is a failure."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, why do you say that? It won't be a
+failure."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I'll send her to you. Now be a
+good boy, Harry. I'm jealous&mdash;for Alec&mdash;of the
+Green Gate." She smiled in her attractive way.
+"Will there be an absolute rupture between you
+and your ... cousins, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, good heavens, Lady Walmer, no!" said
+Harry rather irritably. "We shall all be perfect
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>friends, of course ... what impossible things you
+expect."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect only what is certain."</p>
+
+<p>She went away.</p>
+
+<p>Vanity was as elemental in Harry as in any
+other good-looking young man. With him,
+though, it was not a mere useless pursuit&mdash;an
+art-for-art's-sake joy&mdash;but invariably calculated
+and used as a means to an end.</p>
+
+<p>He looked in the glass earnestly, then started
+as Alec came in.</p>
+
+<p>He was always surprised and even a little <i>g&ecirc;n&eacute;</i>
+each time he saw her, by her immense apparent
+height. It seemed so much greater than it was
+because of the somewhat monotonous lines of her
+figure and her rather bird-like face.</p>
+
+<p>Harry watched her, listened to her as she
+chattered away her hurried, inexpressive unmeaning
+slang, and looked at him with her
+bright, small, beadlike eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He did not appreciate her. He did not know
+that behind the jerky manner and inexpressive
+face there was a Soul.</p>
+
+<p>She had not been trained to talk sentiment,
+and she could not express her ideas; so, though
+she adored Harry, she only said to her mother in
+confidence, when in a serious mood, that he was
+all right; and when in a more playful frame of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>mind to her girl-friends, that he was a little
+<i>bit</i> of all right.</p>
+
+<p>"Alec," he said, making her sit down in the
+lowest chair (he could not bear her towering
+over him), "isn't it a bore that I can't come on
+the yacht?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty useless," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You won't forget me while I'm away, will
+you, Alec?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do <i>you</i> think?" she answered in a
+trembling voice, and then gave a loud laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think&mdash;I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shut up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be just as nice when I see you
+again?" continued Harry, in a carefully-modulated
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you ask me all this rot?" she said,
+with another uneasy laugh. "Of course I shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Good."</p>
+
+<p>Harry couldn't think of anything else to say.
+Then he remembered....</p>
+
+<p>"When I join you again I'm going to bring
+you a ring. What's your favourite stone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rubies and diamonds," she answered without
+a moment's hesitation. "I say, how sporting
+of you! That'll be ripping!"</p>
+
+<p>He tried to feel touched by her artless joy. He
+knew he was not an ideally ardent suitor.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>"Well, we'll have a good time later on, eh?"
+he said in her own tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a silly ass!" replied the girl, her
+eyes full of tears and tenderness, and her heart
+of the most sincere joy and affection.</p>
+
+<p>Harry laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, Alec, is your mother a soothing
+companion? Is she a nice woman to live with?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! <i>she's</i> all right. A bit <a class="ins" href="#tnote_3"  name="tAnchor_3" title="of colour">off colour</a> sometimes.
+At least&mdash;well, she <i>is</i> all right, if you
+understand&mdash;and yet she's <i>not</i>&mdash;if you know
+what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that is a dark saying. You are pleased to
+be mysterious&mdash;sphinx-like."</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> a rotter, Harry!"</p>
+
+<p>"How subtle you are, Alec. How elusive is the
+lightning-play of your wit!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>How</i> much?"</p>
+
+<p>"The random poppy of paradox grows too
+often in the golden cornfield of your conversation,"
+Harry went on, taking her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, rats!" exclaimed the artless girl. "Can't
+make out what you're driving at half the time,
+when you go on like that. Don't believe you
+know yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I? Really now, you know, we're
+almost&mdash;well&mdash;privately engaged. May I kiss
+you, Alec?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>She blushed crimson, turned her face away,
+and said, "Please yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Unable to help laughing, he kissed the top of
+her head, told her to write to him, and left the
+house, feeling like an entirely new and recently-discovered
+kind of bounder.</p>
+
+<p>He hated the double game. It didn't amuse
+him a bit. But now he felt he was free for a
+month's holiday, during which he had, however,
+the unpleasant holiday task of breaking the
+news to Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>He was driving home, but changed his mind
+and called out to the cabman to drive to
+Valentia's house.</p>
+
+<p>He found her trying on furs&mdash;furs in mid-summer!</p>
+
+<p>She greeted the arrival of his exquisite discrimination
+and taste with clapped hands, soft,
+beaming eyes, and her smile&mdash;Valentia's smile.
+Miss Walmer couldn't smile at all&mdash;she didn't
+know how. She could only laugh.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><a class="ins" href="#tnote_4"  name="tAnchor_4" title="CAPTER">CHAPTER</a> XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. FOSTER</h3>
+
+
+<p>Daphne had come to say good-bye to Mrs.
+Foster.</p>
+
+<p>This lady lived in a kind of model cottage in
+a garden in Ham Common. It was not at all like
+the ideal, 'quaint' model cottages that one sees
+advertised by well-known firms of furnishers,
+though it might have been. Mrs. Foster was
+rebellious to Waring, and sincerely disliked anything
+modern.</p>
+
+<p>The little drawing-room, and indeed every
+other room in the house, was principally furnished
+by photographs and groups of her son Cyril&mdash;Cyril
+as a very plain boy, in a skirt, with hardly
+any eyes or hair, and a pout; Cyril as a 'perfect
+pet' of a sailor, at six. Then Cyril in cricketing
+groups (how he stood out against the other
+ordinary boys!)&mdash;in Etons (looking neat and
+supercilious), and then in his uniform, in which
+he looked simply lovely.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne had an intense and growing desire to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>please his mother. In fact, curiously, she was
+more anxious to gain her approbation than that
+of Cyril himself. To this end she usually remade
+her hats, when possible, in the train on her way
+to Ham Common, and her pocket when she
+arrived there was usually filled with artificial
+flowers, feathers, or other ornaments that she
+had taken off her hat, so as to look simple. Also
+she turned it down all the way round to make
+it look as if it were merely a protection from the
+sun&mdash;not a hat.</p>
+
+<p>To-day she wore a pink-spotted muslin dress
+and a straw hat, with pink ribbon. She certainly
+looked extremely pretty, and not at all what she
+had such a dread of before Mrs. Foster, smart.
+Mrs. Foster had a horror of smartness in the
+<i>jeune fille</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne delighted her. She was a very sentimental
+woman, with a strong theoretical bias
+for the practical. She was by way of teaching
+Daphne housekeeping and how to manage on a
+small income (of which art she knew very little
+herself, but was supposed to know a great deal
+because she wore a kind of cap). She had a
+pretty, delicate, kind face, and was wearing large
+wash-leather gloves, in case she should wish to
+do a little gardening later on.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne had still much of the child in her, and
+there was nothing she enjoyed quite so much as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>gardening with Mrs. Foster, and occasionally
+stopping to eat a gingerbread-nut, and hear
+something about Cyril and the brilliant remarks
+he had made as a child.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster had a chiffonnier of a kind Daphne
+had never seen before, which fascinated her
+because such queer delightful things came out
+of it in the middle of the morning&mdash;slices of
+seed cake, apples, and the gingerbread-nuts.
+There were pink shavings in the fireplace, and
+wherever there was not a photograph of Cyril
+there was one of the Prince Imperial. Evidently
+he had been the passion of Mrs. Foster's earlier
+life. She loved to tell the story of how she had
+seen him at Chislehurst, and how she thought
+he had looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>There were other nice things in the cottage:
+there were two rather large vases of pink china
+on which were reproduced photographs of Cyril's
+great-uncle and great-aunt&mdash;one in whiskers,
+the other in parted but raised hair with an
+Alexandra curl on the left shoulder. In these
+vases folded slips of paper called spills were kept.
+A modern note was struck by the presence of a
+baby Grand&mdash;a jolly, clumsy, disproportioned
+youthful piano, rather like a colt, on which
+Daphne played Chopin to Mrs. Foster, and
+sometimes The Chocolate Soldier to Cyril; and
+Mrs. Foster, at twilight, sometimes played and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>even sang, "<i>I cannot sing the old songs, they are
+too dear to me,</i>" which her mother used to
+sing, or, coming a little nearer to the present,
+"<i>Ask nothing more, nothing more, all I can give
+thee, I give,</i>" a passionate song of the early
+eighties.</p>
+
+<p>No one, except Daphne, ever did ask any more.</p>
+
+<p>The whole thing was, to Daphne, a treat.
+Something in the atmosphere of Ladysmith
+Cottage&mdash;that was its name&mdash;fascinated and
+amused her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster was a widow. Her husband had
+been a distinguished soldier. Almost the whole
+of her extremely small income had been devoted
+to Cyril's education, and with the assistance
+of an uncle who took interest in him, he had
+been got into the Guards, where he existed
+happily with a comparatively small allowance.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster had not been at all surprised or
+annoyed at his wishing to marry at twenty-two.
+She thought it extremely natural. It seemed
+to her very sensible of Daphne to accept
+him, and that she was the most fortunate girl
+in existence.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope your sister doesn't mind my taking
+you away from the gay, fashionable world for
+a day?" she archly asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, of course not. We're going in the
+country next week, so I wanted to see you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>"Cyril's at Aldershot. I don't think he'll be
+able to come down this afternoon. He can't get
+away this week, I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall see him before I go," said Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you have a letter from him every day,
+darling?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, a few lines."</p>
+
+<p>"He is a noble boy!" said Mrs. Foster enthusiastically.
+"How he always hated writing
+letters! I remember how I guided his little hand
+to write his first letter to his uncle, General
+Rayner. Just as we got to the end of the letter
+Cyril suddenly jumped up and threw over the
+table. The letter was simply drenched in ink.
+Dear boy! I've got it still.... Oh, you must
+come into the garden, Daphne. I've something
+new to show you. A friend of mine has just
+let her house. She didn't know what to do with
+her dovecot&mdash;nobody wanted it&mdash;so she's given
+it to me. Come and see the dear little creatures&mdash;they
+are so pretty."</p>
+
+<p>They went out into the garden and stood
+looking at a sort of depressed pigeon-house.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster made strange noises, which she
+thought suitable to attract the inmates, and
+Daphne saw two doves who struck her as if
+they had married in haste and were repenting
+at leisure.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you let them go free?" suggested
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>the girl. "Just think how happy and delighted
+they'd be."</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt it. I don't think they'd know what
+to do with their freedom. They're not used to
+my garden yet, that's what's the matter. I do
+wish they would coo; perhaps they will a little
+later on." (This was a favourite expression of
+Mrs. Foster's.) "I want to see one perched on
+your shoulder, Daphne. It would make such a
+pretty picture."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather give them something to eat,"
+said Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster started.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, of course. I fed them all yesterday
+afternoon, but I forgot about them this morning.
+Henry! Henry!"</p>
+
+<p>The smallest boy appeared that had ever been
+called by that name.</p>
+
+<p>"Henry, feed the doves."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p>
+
+<p>"Then bring the watering-can. We're going
+to water the flowers."</p>
+
+<p>Henry, who seemed of a morose nature, went
+to obey.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm obliged to have a boy for the knives,
+and he acts as a gardener when I'm busy,"
+explained Mrs. Foster. "There isn't much of a
+kitchen garden, only a few gooseberries and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>apples, as you know, dear, but it's nice to think
+they grow there, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I can't make much show with
+them. Henry always eats them before they're
+ripe, which is <i>rather</i> hard. But he's a good,
+honest boy. One of his sisters has gone in for
+making blouses&mdash;in the village, you know.
+She's a brave girl, and I feel sure will get on."</p>
+
+<p>"She must be! Have you ever ...?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh <i>no</i>. Of course not. <i>I</i> couldn't. When a
+woman reaches a certain age, my dear, a certain
+style is necessary. I don't mean great expense,
+but simple little things that would suit you,
+darling, wouldn't do for me. Now that little
+pink thing that you're wearing&mdash;I should look
+<i>nothing</i> in it, and yet I dare say Henry's sister....
+Where did you get it, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it <i>came</i> from Paquin's," said Daphne.
+"It's not new."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Well, we mustn't be always talking of
+chiffons together, that's very frivolous. You're
+fond of poetry, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so very," said Daphne truthfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But you would like to hear mine; I know
+you would, dear," said Mrs. Foster, nodding,
+and patting her hand. "Dear girl, you shall.
+I've got a tiny little volume, all in manuscript.
+It's quite a secret, darling. Hardly any one&mdash;now&mdash;knows
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>that I was poetical. But I can tell
+you anything&mdash;you're so sympathetic. I had
+at one time a great wish to be a sort of&mdash;not
+exactly Elizabeth Barrett Browning, or Christina
+Rossetti&mdash;you know who I mean, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>"But a singer of songs&mdash;songs of feeling.
+Well, let us go into the garden. I will show it
+to you later."</p>
+
+<p>They sprinkled a few dead flowers, picked
+a few weeds, and then Mrs. Foster became
+thoughtful, took off her gloves, and went to her
+room and remained there for some time. She
+came down with a manuscript book in her
+hand. It had a shiny cover, and in the right-hand
+corner a piece of the cover was cut out.
+On the paper, showing through, was written
+in Mrs. Foster's delicate handwriting, "Fireflies
+of Fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"This," she said, patting it, "is my little
+book, and after lunch I'll read you some of the
+poems, dear Daphne, though I'm not at all sure
+that all of them are quite suitable for you to
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mrs. Foster!" Daphne found difficulty
+in believing it.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," continued the delicate-looking
+old lady, in her sweet, refined voice, "I was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>very much under the influence of the Passionate
+School&mdash;Swinburne, Rossetti, Ella Wheeler
+Wilcox, and so on&mdash;at the time that I wrote.
+My husband never wished me to publish them.
+He didn't like them&mdash;he didn't understand
+them. I don't mind admitting to you, dear, that
+since I lost him I have sent one or two of the
+less&mdash;well&mdash;shall we say strongly coloured?&mdash;poems
+to the magazines at times, of course under
+a <i>nom de plume</i>. But they were all returned.
+I think they were considered too&mdash;well, too&mdash;&mdash;However,
+I've given up the idea of making a
+name as a poetess now, and very rarely show
+them to anybody; <i>very</i> rarely."</p>
+
+<p>Daphne answered, with absolute sincerity,
+that she was dying to see them.</p>
+
+<p>After lunch, when they retired to the little
+drawing-room, Mrs. Foster sat down with her
+back to the light, and a slight flush on her cheek,
+and took up the book.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne sat in a low little crimson arm-chair
+exactly opposite her, clasping her knees, her
+brown eyes fixed with the greatest interest as
+Mrs. Foster turned and turned the pages as if
+unable to select a suitable verse.</p>
+
+<p>Then she began to read, in her soft, yet rather
+high voice, which seemed suited only to gentle
+greetings and adieux, or quavering orders to
+Henry.</p>
+
+<div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></div>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"NIGHT TIME<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>He glanced as he passed,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And I hope, and I quiver,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>I howl and I shudder with pains;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And like a she-tiger</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Or overcharged river,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>My blood rushes on through my veins."</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She stopped suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, dear. I won't read this. Wait a
+minute. I remember now that was the one that
+was returned because it was too&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;I'll
+find you another one."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do finish that one," said Daphne,
+"please! Isn't the light too much for your eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>She jumped up quickly and pulled down the
+blind an inch or two, and then came back,
+having controlled herself.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster looked at her rather sharply, and
+took no notice of what she supposed was emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, here is something more suited to you,
+<a class="ins" href="#tnote_5"  name="tAnchor_5" title="darling.">darling."</a></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">SPRING<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0 smcap">A Question, and an Answer</span><br />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Will all the year be summer-time,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And each night have a moon?</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Ah no, the Spring will quickly go,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And winter cometh soon.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>And will your clasp warm mine like wine?</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And will you love me true?</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Ah no, the autumn leaves arrive,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And we must bid adieu.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>"That's a rather pretty thing, in its way,
+isn't it?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Very."</p>
+
+<p>"Here's one more.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A REMEMBRANCE<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Seems it well to see</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>A wild honey bee</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Gold in the sun,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Ere day is done,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Sitting on a rose,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>As the summer time grows.</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Ah, the bold, brave days,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Ere the glass of Time</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>'Neath the sun's rays,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Like a flame of fire,&mdash;</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And the</i> ..."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>She stopped again.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't think this is quite&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do, do go on!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a great deal of sensibility, Daphne.
+I believe you have tears in your eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't really." She turned away her
+head, nearly choking.</p>
+
+<p>A loud knock was heard at the front door.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Foster looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Cyril!" she exclaimed. "He's got away
+after all. Quick! Quick!" She threw the book
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>under a cushion and sat on it. With trembling
+fingers she took up some needlework out of a
+basket.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a word&mdash;not a word! Go and meet him
+in the hall, dear. He's come to give us a surprise.
+I'll wait."</p>
+
+<p>Blushing and laughing Daphne ran downstairs.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>ENGAGED</h3>
+
+
+<p>Daphne and Cyril sat in the garden
+together. The conditions seemed ideal.
+It was a lovely afternoon; the sun was hot, but
+a gay irresponsible little west wind stirred the
+trees; bees hummed industriously, butterflies
+darted casually about among the few flowers,
+and even the reticent doves cooed from time
+to time, condescendingly. Peeping through the
+blind Mrs. Foster thought the two young people
+made a perfect picture, and was reminded of
+the Golden Age. Indeed, they had very much
+the charming, almost improbable air of the
+figures in a Summer Number of an illustrated
+paper. Perhaps the conditions were too perfect:
+the lovers had, of course, nothing to sit on but
+a rustic seat&mdash;Mrs. Foster would have thought
+it a crime to have anything else in a garden, and
+rustic seats are, no doubt, picturesque, but they
+are very uncomfortable; they seem to consist of
+nothing but points and knobs, gnarls and corners.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>When Daphne was alone with Cyril like this
+she felt contented and peaceful at first, and then
+she began to wonder why she wasn't happier
+still&mdash;why she didn't feel ecstatic. She was
+proud of Cyril; he looked very handsome in
+flannels, his regular features, smooth fair hair,
+small head and small feet all added to his
+resemblance to the hero in the holiday number.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Dear little girl!" and took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed and answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old boy!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! you do look ripping, Daphne."</p>
+
+<p>She smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Jolly being here like this, isn't it?" said
+Cyril.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it?" she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Jolly day, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't it lucky I was able to get away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rather."</p>
+
+<p>"It was a fearful rush."</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been."</p>
+
+<p>"Jove, it is hot!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Darling!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear boy!"</p>
+
+<p>"May I smoke a cigarette, dear?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>"Yes, do."</p>
+
+<p>He lit a cigarette, and then put his arm
+round her waist.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't, Cyril."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" he asked, removing it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. Henry or some one might
+see."</p>
+
+<p>"What's Henry?"</p>
+
+<p>"A sort of gardener boy&mdash;the boy whose sort
+of sister makes kind of blouses in the village."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, does he matter?"</p>
+
+<p>Cyril was wondering if he could ask for a
+drink.</p>
+
+<p>When they were left entirely alone, on purpose
+to be free, he always felt rather shy and
+awkward, and intensely thirsty.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne began to think about what time it
+was, and about her train back&mdash;subjects that
+never occurred to her when she was alone with
+Mrs. Foster.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I shall soon have to be going,"
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say! What, the moment I've arrived?"</p>
+
+<p>He tried not to feel a little relieved. He
+wondered why he hadn't more to say to her. He
+had been desperate to get consent to their engagement,
+and was always extremely anxious and
+counting the minutes till they met, and when
+they were together, alone after much elaborate
+scheming, he felt a little embarrassed, and, like
+his fianc&eacute;e, was surprised he wasn't happier.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>"I say, Daphne!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"You do look sweet."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simply ripping! I say!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Won't it be jolly when we're married?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; lovely."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be all the time just like this, you
+see&mdash;only nicer ... I say! Isn't it hot?"</p>
+
+<p>They sat holding hands, he looking at her
+admiringly, she feeling mildly pleased that such
+a dear, handsome boy should be so fond of her.
+In the minds of both was another sensation,
+which they did not recognise, or, at all events,
+would not admit to themselves. They both,
+especially Cyril, counted the minutes to these
+<i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;tes</i>, and immediately afterwards looked
+back on them with regret, feeling they had
+missed something. They wrote to each other
+frequent, short, but intensely affectionate letters
+about the happiness these interviews had given
+them. Yet, while they actually lasted, both
+Cyril and Daphne, had they only known it,
+were really rather bored. The next day, or the
+same evening, Cyril would write to her:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My own Darling,&mdash;How jolly it was having
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>you a little to myself to-day! And to think that
+you really care for me!" and so on.</p>
+
+<p>And she would enjoy writing back:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest,&mdash;Didn't we have a heavenly time
+in the garden yesterday?" and so forth.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, they had not had a
+heavenly time at all; when he kissed her, which
+he sometimes did, she did not really like it,
+though she knew she ought, and it gave her
+a sort of mental gratification to think that he
+<i>had</i> given this manifestation of love, as she
+knew it was considered the right thing.</p>
+
+<p>He did not really regard her as a woman at
+all, but more as a lovely doll, or sweet companion,
+and it pleased his vanity immensely to
+think he should be allowed this privilege,
+which at the same time seemed to him a little
+unnecessary, and even derogatory to her,
+though he enjoyed it very much too, in a somewhat
+uncomfortable way.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that their engagement was so
+indefinite, that they had hardly any hope of
+being married for at least two years, perhaps
+added a little to the <i>g&ecirc;ne</i> of these meetings.
+The instant they were separated he began to
+long to see her alone again. Daphne felt sure
+she must be really in love because she took
+comparatively little interest in anything that
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>was not more or less connected with the idea
+of Cyril. Perhaps she enjoyed the things she
+associated with him more than his actual presence.
+Talking about him to Valentia, or
+hearing about him from his mother, seemed
+more amusing and exciting than sitting with
+him alone and holding his hand. She would
+have liked best never to see him except in
+evening dress at a party, only to hear about him
+or think about him all day.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril was sure that his feeling was real love,
+because he did not care two straws how hard up
+they should be when they were married, and
+because if he heard any one sing a sentimental
+song, however badly, he immediately thought
+of her with the greatest tenderness. He believed
+he missed her every moment of the day, and he
+took great trouble to see her, especially when
+there was a chance of their being alone. But, as
+a matter of fact, he was rather glad when Mrs.
+Foster came out into the garden; and when he
+had seen Daphne off at the station, although it
+was a pang to see her go away without him, it
+was perhaps also a slight relief.</p>
+
+<p>When Val came to meet her at the station,
+full of news about the extraordinary number
+of exciting things that had happened in the day,
+and they dashed back to dress for a dinner
+Harry was giving before going to a dance,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>Daphne felt a tinge of sentiment and regret for
+the idyllic happiness in the garden, and began
+to count the hours until they should meet alone
+again. The glamour always returned an hour
+or so after they had been separated.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>AT THE CARLTON</h3>
+
+
+<p>With characteristic amiability, combined
+with that courage which had caused
+impatient people, who snubbed her in vain, to
+say she had the hide of a rhinoceros, Miss
+Luscombe had accepted the blow of Rathbone's
+proposal&mdash;the proposal which she had taken for
+an offer of marriage, but which was really an
+offer to go on the stage. She set to work at once
+making little efforts (most of which she knew
+to be futile) to arrange the matter. After all,
+if she should succeed in getting him some sort of
+a part, mightn't he, out of gratitude?... And
+she saw visions. Again, he had evidently got it
+very badly, this mania for acting and dressing
+up, and he had really quite enough money, if
+he chose to devote it to this object only; why
+shouldn't he take a theatre&mdash;make himself the
+manager and <i>jeune premier</i>, or, for the matter
+of that, <i>vieux dernier</i>&mdash;it really didn't matter&mdash;and
+let her be the leading lady? That was if he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>failed in every other scheme. She wrote letters
+to various people whom she knew on the stage,
+mentioning Rathbone's enormous willingness
+to take <i>anything</i>, his gentlemanly appearance,
+and, she felt sure, really <i>some</i> talent, though
+no experience. Most people took no notice, but
+after a while she received an offer for him to
+play one of the gentlemen in the chorus of <i>Our
+Miss Gibbs</i> in a second-rate little touring company
+of the smaller northern provincial towns.</p>
+
+<p>It was an excuse for an interview, certainly;
+but this for a man who wished to play Romeo!
+And if, in his enthusiasm, he should actually
+accept it, it would take him away from her.
+However, hearing that she had some news for
+him, he, in his delighted gratitude, asked her to
+tea at the Carlton.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>They were seated in the Palm Court eating
+their tea-cakes and sandwiches to the sound of
+"The Teddy Bear's Picnic," which made one
+feel cheerful and reckless, followed by "Simple
+Aveu," a thin, sentimental solo on the violin that
+made one feel resigned and melancholy. It was
+played by a man with a three-cornered face and
+a very bald head, who gazed at the ceiling as if
+in a kind of swoon&mdash;a swoon that might have
+been induced either by tender ecstasy or acute
+boredom.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>All around them were noisy Americans, neatly
+dressed, and a good many prim, self-conscious
+ladies on the stage who had come on from their
+<i>matin&eacute;es</i> and were accompanied mostly either
+by very young and rather chinless adorers, or
+by fat, fatuous men with dark moustaches, hair
+inclined to curl, and clothes a shade too gorgeous.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there a simple, provincial-looking
+family were to be seen who had come up for a
+few days and had been to an afternoon performance,
+and were talking with great animation
+of the rights and wrongs of the hero and heroine
+of the play. It was characteristic of the provincials
+that they were really excited about the play
+itself, hardly knowing who were performing,
+while the suburbanites took interest only in the
+actors, all of whom they knew well by name and
+reputation, even their private life&mdash;at least, as
+much of it as got into the <i>Prattler</i>, <i>The Perfect
+Lady</i>, and <i>Home Chirps</i>.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole it was a very characteristic
+London crowd, in that it consisted almost
+entirely of desirable aliens. Here and there,
+indeed, one saw a thin, slim, pretty woman with
+a happy but bothered-looking young man, both
+obviously English, who talked in low tones, and
+were evidently at some stage or other of a rose-coloured
+romance; but they were the exception.</p>
+
+<p>Amidst this noisy and confused client&egrave;le, with
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>its showy clothes and obvious feminine charms,
+Miss Luscombe looked a strange, stray, untidy
+hothouse plant. She was odd and artificial, and
+dressed like nothing on earth, in pale and faded
+colours; but she was not vulgar. She was rather
+queer and delicate, and intensely amiable. Her
+self-consciousness made no claim on one; she
+was not exacting&mdash;always pleased and good-tempered.
+Rathbone recognised these qualities
+in her, and liked her better to-day, amidst the
+scent of the tea-cakes and cigarettes and the
+whine of the violin, than he had ever liked her
+before.</p>
+
+<p>Pink, fair, calm, clean, and really hardly anything
+else, except extremely correct, and always
+good form, without being too noticeably so, no
+one would have dreamed that this quiet young
+man, who looked like a shy subaltern, was
+simply dying to disport himself on the stage, and
+that it was the dream of his life to make an utter
+ass of himself as Hamlet, or a hopeless fool of
+himself as (say) the hero in <i>Still Waters Run
+Deep</i>&mdash;a play he had seen as a boy and had
+always longed to act in.</p>
+
+<p>She had broken the news to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Luscombe, do you mean to say that is
+the very best you can do for me?"</p>
+
+<p>She explained the difficulties.</p>
+
+<p>He was only one of so many! Unless the name
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>was known it was frightfully difficult&mdash;even for
+geniuses&mdash;to get on. Of course, he might try,
+and go and see the various managers himself,
+but, frankly, probably nothing would come of it.</p>
+
+<p>He was deeply depressed. What should she
+suggest?</p>
+
+<p>"Might I ask if you care very, very much?"
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You might. I do." Yes. His heart was set
+on it.</p>
+
+<p>Was it really? Well, if he simply hadn't the
+strength to go on living another day without
+going on the stage, the only thing, clearly, was
+just to hire a theatre and <i>go</i> on! A <i>matin&eacute;e</i>,
+perhaps. Why not Romeo?</p>
+
+<p>"And why not Juliet?" said he, rather rashly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that would be lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>Her attention wandered at this moment. A
+very pretty, fair woman was rising from behind
+a palm where she had been seated with her back
+to the room. She went out rather quickly, followed
+by a good-looking young man with a single
+eye-glass.</p>
+
+<p>"They have been trying to hide!" she
+exclaimed. "What a joke! It's that sweet Valentia
+Wyburn and Harry de Freyne. They must have
+been here when we arrived, for we should have
+seen them come in. I wonder what they came
+for?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>"To have tea, perhaps?" suggested Rathbone,
+after deep thought, shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I know. But why hide like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they didn't want to be seen," said
+Rathbone brilliantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course, but why not? I hope it
+doesn't show...."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it shows there's nothing in it, or they
+wouldn't come here."</p>
+
+<p>"Does it?" said Miss Luscombe, rather disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, where's the harm in being here? Ain't
+we here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, of course; but that's different.
+They're cousins, too, of course; I had forgotten."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why you should worry if Romer
+doesn't," said Rathbone.</p>
+
+<p>Before they left Rathbone had very nearly
+promised to see about engaging a theatre, and
+either for a charity or as an invitation <i>matin&eacute;e</i>,
+rope, as he expressed it, all his friends in, lock the
+door, and force them to see him play Romeo to
+Miss Luscombe's Juliet.</p>
+
+<p>Flora was deliriously happy at the idea, but
+had too much experience to rely on it, and was
+quite prepared to be thrown over for another
+more professional actress, and asked to play one
+of the ladies at the ball in the first act instead,
+probably in a mask. She went home and read
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>over her one good notice&mdash;a great treasure&mdash;that
+had appeared in an evening paper, and had
+spoken of her as "<i>a young actress with a bright
+and winsome personality</i>." That was in a very
+small part, ten years ago. Would she ever get
+another real chance?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>AT MISS WESTBURY'S</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn found Miss Westbury being
+sensible and decided and holding forth
+about things in general to one or two friends
+over the tea-cups. Something in the way the old
+lady sat down and unfastened her mantle, so as
+to be sure to feel the benefit of it when she went
+out again, made the other women present feel
+that they were not wanted, and Miss Westbury
+did not attempt to detain them. For (though she
+would not have put it like that) she knew that
+she would get more fun out of her friend's
+<i>m&eacute;chancet&eacute;</i> if they were alone. Scandal, gossip
+made tedious by morality, is only really enjoyable
+<i>en t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"I do so hope, Isabella, that you haven't had
+any more annoyance about the silly things that
+are being said about your pretty daughter-in-law,"
+remarked Miss Westbury, leaning back
+with the comfortable amiability of a fat woman
+who expects to be amused.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>Mrs. Wyburn looked round the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Curious you never have your ceiling painted,"
+she said. "I've often wondered why it is. It looks&mdash;you'll
+forgive me for saying so, Millie, won't
+you?&mdash;as if you left it in its present state from
+motives of, may I say, economy? But, of course,
+I know it isn't that&mdash;I always say, it's simply
+that you haven't noticed it. Thanks, no&mdash;no tea."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury's serenity was slightly disturbed,
+as her friend intended.</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly don't spend my whole time lying
+on my back looking at the ceiling," she answered
+rather brusquely. "I have far too much to do."</p>
+
+<p>"I never suggested that you should," quickly
+replied Mrs. Wyburn. "Such a thing never
+occurred to me for a single moment. And please
+don't think I wish to interfere, or to make
+remarks about anything that doesn't concern
+me. It merely struck me that if, at any time, you
+thought by some curious chance of having the
+house done up, it might be a pity to leave out
+the ceiling. But that was all. I do assure you,
+Millie, I never dreamt of hurting your feelings."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury laughed with a rather cackling
+sound&mdash;a sound Mrs. Wyburn recognised with
+satisfaction. It showed just the degree of slight
+annoyance she loved to cause in any one to whom
+she was speaking. Miss Westbury, however,
+waived the question and became hospitable.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>"Do let me persuade you to have a toasted
+bun. Our baker makes them in a special way on
+purpose for me. There's nothing in the world
+more sensible with one's tea than a small toasted
+currant bun. I was speaking to Dr. Gribling
+about it only the other day, oddly enough, and
+he quite agreed with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why <i>only the other day</i>? and why <i>oddly
+enough</i>, Millie?&mdash;I dare say you speak to him
+constantly about it and about other equally
+urgent matters." She spoke with what she
+meant to be a slight sneer, in reply to which
+Miss Westbury behaved in a manner that is
+sometimes described as bridling up. She gave a
+movement meant to be a toss of the head and
+placed her lips firmly together.</p>
+
+<p>"I like Dr. Gribling, Isabella, because he's a
+thoroughly sensible man&mdash;a man you can say
+anything to."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn thought that Miss Westbury
+would say anything to any one, and she shrewdly
+suspected that Millie was probably the one gleam
+of amusement in poor old Dr. Gribling's dreary
+round. However, she waved the eminent
+physician aside and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"About Valentia. She and Romer have gone
+down to the country, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed! Quite early to go. Very nice.
+Have they a large party there, do you know? The
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>Green Gate is such a charming place&mdash;so
+picturesque."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever seen it?" Mrs. Wyburn asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Only in the <i>Daily Mail</i>&mdash;I mean accounts
+of week-ends there, and that sort of thing. But I
+believe it's quite charming. It seems almost a
+pity though, doesn't it, at the end of the season
+to begin the same frivolities and gaieties all over
+again. I wonder they don't take a little rest."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe they are resting. Valentia wrote to
+me that no one was staying there at all, except,
+of course, Daphne."</p>
+
+<p>"And Harry de Freyne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and Mr. de Freyne."</p>
+
+<p>"Strange," said Miss Westbury comfortably.
+"Curious that extraordinary infatuation of your&mdash;son
+for this young man. But he's a very
+charming man, isn't he? Most agreeable?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's not absolutely unpleasant."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he brightens them up&mdash;amuses
+them? Probably he has very high spirits. Perhaps
+he has the <i>jar de veev</i>." Miss Westbury had a
+private pronunciation of foreign expressions all
+her own. "It is unfortunate, but do you know one
+often sees that in unprincipled people, Isabella."</p>
+
+<p>"He knows that he's not quite a gentleman,
+and is trying to laugh it off," said Mrs. Wyburn.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he really? Dear, dear&mdash;what a sad
+thing!&mdash;and yet he certainly <i>ought</i> to be a gentleman,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>you know. On his mother's side he is connected
+with the&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's not the point," snapped Mrs. Wyburn.
+"And of course I don't mean to say that&mdash;outwardly&mdash;he's
+not. His manner and appearance
+are distinguished. It's the soul that's vulgar."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see! You mean you're afraid he isn't
+one of <i>nature's</i> gentlemen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nature? How do you mean? He has nothing
+to do with nature. He's a man about town."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon&mdash;I understood he was
+an artist. And sometimes, you know, artists are
+extremely fond of nature; in fact, far <i>too</i> fond."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe all that painting is only done to
+throw dust in people's eyes&mdash;an excuse for
+idleness. Candidly, I don't like studios; I don't
+think they're respectable."</p>
+
+<p>"I know what you mean; but still, after all"&mdash;Miss
+Westbury made a feeble attempt at a good-natured
+defence&mdash;"after all, if they all like it&mdash;I
+mean to say, if they're all so happy, why should
+we&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt if my son is happy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, really, really? Do you think he's <i>ever
+noticed anything?</i> Isn't he devoted to Harry de
+Freyne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he hates him like poison," replied
+the mother.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury started in delighted horror,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>and replied sharply, "How do you know that?
+Did he tell you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me! He would never tell me. Besides,
+he couldn't tell me&mdash;he doesn't know it."</p>
+
+<p>"And how do you know it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mothers know everything," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>After a minute's pause, Miss Westbury said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"But if you feel sure that Romer isn't happy,
+and that he, almost unconsciously perhaps,
+doesn't really like this young man being always
+about, mightn't it some day end in some
+trouble&mdash;some explosion?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite possible."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I wonder what Romer would do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know what he would do."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, Isabella, you don't mean to
+say that he would ever bring a&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"It's really strange," said Mrs. Wyburn, "that
+at your age you should still be so silly. Will you
+never learn to understand anything at all? Of
+course not. He would protect her."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't something be done? Why don't you
+speak to Valentia?"</p>
+
+<p>"The advice of a relative-in-law in a case of
+this kind has never yet been known to be of any
+real use, Millie. I can only hope the whole thing
+may gradually wear itself out."</p>
+
+<p>"May it be so, my dear!" echoed Miss Westbury,
+unctuously.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>Mrs. Wyburn got up to go.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Westbury helped her to fasten her
+mantle.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad you loosened it, or else you might
+not feel the benefit of it when you go out,
+Isabella," she observed, for she was not one to
+miss an opportunity of making a remark of this
+kind. "And <i>do</i> look on the bright side. I always
+say that things of this sort may not be true, and
+even if they are, everything may be for the best
+in the end."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn liked to excite Millie's interest,
+and yet somehow loathed her sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; do you know, I really <i>should</i> have the
+ceiling painted, if I were you," she said, as if it
+were a new idea. "Otherwise your house is
+looking so nice&mdash;quite charming. I think it such
+an excellent plan not to have flowers in the
+windows, only ever-greens."</p>
+
+<p>"So glad you think so. It <i>is</i> rather a good
+arrangement, because, you see, they always
+look exactly the same all the year round."</p>
+
+<p>"That they certainly do&mdash;and nevergreens
+would be a better name for them," spitefully
+said Mrs. Wyburn to herself as she drove off.</p>
+
+<p>"What a tiresome mood Isabella was in to-day,"
+said Miss Westbury to herself. "I must go
+and see Jane Totness and tell her what she
+said.... Ceiling, indeed! She <i>was</i> nasty!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>A PROPOSAL</h3>
+
+
+<p>Miss Luscombe was looking out of the
+window, looking up to the street, waiting.
+At last she saw from her basement (the
+"tank," as her friends called it) a glimpse
+on the pavement of a pair of feet that she
+knew. They were the feet of Mr. John Ryland
+Rathbone. She hastened to prepare herself for
+his visit.</p>
+
+<p>It is obvious that people who live in a basement
+must look at life from a different point of
+view from all others. The proudest of women
+in that position must necessarily see it <i>de bas en
+haut</i>. The woman looking out of the drawing-room
+or higher for the person she is expecting
+to see gets more or less of a bird's-eye view. She
+sees the top of a hat first, and the person
+necessarily foreshortened. From the dining-room
+or ground-floor window she sees the
+approaching visitor through glass, but practically
+on a level, almost face to face, and therefore is
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>incapable of judging him on the whole or of
+taking a very large view, since any object placed
+close to the eye deprives one of a sense of
+proportion&mdash;shuts out everything else. But
+from a basement window things are very different.
+It is wonderful how much character one
+learns to see in feet, and it is still more curious
+how, to the accustomed eye, their expression can
+vary from time to time. Flora saw at a glance
+by the obstinate stamp, the bad-tempered look
+of his boots, by the nervous impatience of his
+stride, that Mr. Rathbone was coming to see her
+in a state of agitation. One would hardly have
+believed that, without having seen his face at
+all, she would be so prepared for his behaviour
+when he arrived as to greet him anxiously from
+the door, even before he came in, with "Good
+heavens, what <i>is</i> the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know anything is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guessed. I saw your steps."</p>
+
+<p>"Everything is going wrong about the play.
+The expenses get larger every day. To sell even
+<i>one</i> ticket for a charity, they tell me, is simply
+out of the question! I must invite everybody,
+and even then most of them won't come. Just
+think, my dear Miss Luscombe, all this trouble,
+worry, and expense for amateurs to play
+<i>Romeo and Juliet</i> at an invitation performance
+to an absolutely empty house!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>"Why do you think it will be empty?...
+Your friends?"</p>
+
+<p>"My friends? You're my only friend! Every
+chap at the Club I have spoken to about it
+said they would be out of town that day. One
+or two said they would come on afterwards and
+join me at supper. Supper! I said it was a <i>matin&eacute;e</i>;
+so then they suggested I should give a dinner
+afterwards. And even women, they're quite as
+bad. I mentioned it to Lady Walmer. She is
+always so keen on going everywhere, and makes
+a hobby of odd charities and things. She said
+she was going yachting that day, and also that
+she was going to a wedding."</p>
+
+<p>"What does it matter just about Lady
+Walmer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, but it's an indication. Do we want
+to have no one in a theatre but the dressmakers
+who made the costumes? Miss Luscombe&mdash;Flora!
+I am beginning to think we'd better
+chuck it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Rathbone! The waste and the disappointment!"</p>
+
+<p>"It would be a greater waste to make an utter
+fool of oneself in an empty house than to postpone
+it. I'm nervous. I'm really frightened. I'm
+beginning to see that I've been a fool. As to
+disappointment, <i>that</i>, Flora, you could console
+me for if you chose."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>"Oh, Mr. Rathbone!"</p>
+
+<p>"You really have been so sweet, so patient,
+it's my opinion that you are an angel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed I'm not!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you have the patience of one. You
+never think about yourself. You're all kindness
+and sweetness and thought for other people. To
+speak perfectly frankly, you have only one tiny
+fault, Flora. And that is, that you seem a <i>little</i>
+artificial. But it's my opinion that such affectations
+as you have are natural to you and you
+can't help them, and you would be an ideal
+wife."</p>
+
+<p>Flora was actually silent with gratification.
+She did not even laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Flora, we'd better chuck the performance
+altogether. Let's give it up, and have
+a show instead at St. George's, Hanover Square."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, in
+a trembling voice, "because that would not be
+right. It wouldn't be nice of you&mdash;in fact, it
+would be rather cruel."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say you care for me the
+least little bit?" He took both her hands and
+stared hard at her face. "Is there something
+real about you then?" he continued.</p>
+
+<p>Tears came to her eyes. She turned her head
+away.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>"This seems too good to be true," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's be married," he cried, "on the day we
+were going to have the show. Let's go to Oberammergau
+for our honeymoon, and don't let
+us ever go near the theatre again. Will you,
+dear? Or am I dreaming?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. I always have," she answered ingenuously;
+"but I hadn't a scrap of hope, and
+I didn't know how much I cared for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Flora, I shall give up the stage and
+devote all my time to you."</p>
+
+<p>"So will I," she said. "I shall never want to
+act again."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I, never&mdash;never!"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall rush home and countermand everything,"
+he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, go not yet; it is not yet near day," she
+quoted in the tender voice she used for recitation.</p>
+
+<p>He burst into peals of laughter, and put his
+arms round her and kissed her impetuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Flora, what a fool I have been all this
+time! And you knew it&mdash;you knew it perfectly
+well. I thought when we were rehearsing that
+once you said the words, 'O Romeo, wherefore
+art <i>thou</i> Romeo?' with rather marked emphasis
+<a class="ins" href="#tnote_6"  name="tAnchor_6" title="on the 'thou.'&quot;...">
+on the 'thou'...."</a></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>"Do you know that I never cared for any one
+but you in my life, Flora?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, oh! Why is 'C. L.' tattooed on your
+wrist?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll have it taken out. I'll have Flora put
+on instead. I'll have anything you like tattooed
+in your honour&mdash;a hunting scene, a snap-shot
+of the Coronation&mdash;anything you like."</p>
+
+<p>"No, please not. I don't like it; I can't bear
+it. It's the only thing I ever haven't liked about
+you. But we'll forget it now, won't we?" she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll forget the stage. Oh, Flora, how I
+have worried you! Forgive me. We won't
+think of anything but each other now."</p>
+
+<p>They repeated this sentiment again and again
+in these and other words for about an hour and
+a half, and forgot to turn up lights and ring the
+bell.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The first real love scene Flora had ever acted
+in was a triumphant success.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>HEREFORD VAUGHAN</h3>
+
+
+<p>To have eleven plays, all written out of
+one's own head, and all being performed
+simultaneously in American, in Eskimo, and
+even in Turkish, besides in every known European
+language; to have money rolling in, and
+the strange world of agents and managers
+pursuing you by every post and imploring for
+more contracts by every Marconigram; and
+these triumphs to have come quite suddenly,
+was really enough to have turned the head of
+any young man; yet Hereford Vaughan's
+(known by his very few intimate friends as
+Gillie) had remained remarkably calm. He was
+not even embittered by success.</p>
+
+<p>To know his jokes were being got over the
+footlights of so many lands was a curious sensation,
+and it often made him laugh suddenly to
+reflect how wicked certain quips must sound in,
+say, Japanese. Perhaps his friends were rather
+inclined to resent the way he retained his
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>balance after what was really an almost unheard-of
+hit. They would have been readier to
+pardon it had he shown some sign of boring
+fatuity; or perhaps they thought he might at
+least have had a temporary nervous breakdown;
+taking the form (for choice) of losing all sense
+of the value of money and wildly throwing
+bank-notes and gold at every one he saw. But
+he remained quiet, reserved, and as apparently
+modest as ever.</p>
+
+<p>Modesty is a valuable merit (as I think
+Schopenhauer has discovered) in people who
+have no other, and the appearance of it is extremely
+useful to those who have, but I am not
+suggesting that Vaughan was not human, and
+there was, no doubt, many a moment when he
+smiled to himself, and felt that he was a great
+man.</p>
+
+<p>He was rather secretive and mysterious than
+blatant or dashing, and this, of course, made
+him, on the whole, more interesting to women.
+The fact that he had made a fortune and lived
+alone in a charming house with nothing but
+housekeepers, secretaries, telephones, typewriters,
+and cooks, of course made all the women
+of his acquaintance who had the match-making
+instinct (and what woman has not?) desire to
+see him married. As he showed no sign of doing
+so, they tried to console themselves by pretending
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>that he had some secret romance. Old ladies
+hoped he had a broken heart for some fianc&eacute;e
+who was lying under the daisies, having died of
+decline in the classical middle-Victorian way.
+Young ladies thought that he was probably
+fixed up in some way that would be sure in
+time to dissolve, and that he would marry later
+on. Far the most popular theory was that he
+didn't marry simply because he <i>was</i> married,
+privately; and that he had, no doubt, hurriedly
+espoused, before he was of age (and before the
+Registrar), some barmaid or chorus-girl, or
+other dreadful person, who had turned out far
+too respectable to divorce, and that he was thus
+a young man marred. They had no grounds for
+the rumour except that clever and promising
+young men often did these things, and he had
+always been a particularly promising young
+man, and in this unfortunate case had probably
+kept his promise.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan was sitting one morning reading
+his notices (never believe the greatest men when
+they tell you that they don't do that!), when
+Muir Howard came cheerily, almost boisterously,
+into the room. He was an old school
+friend who had been devoted to Gillie long before
+his arrival, and of whose faults, virtues,
+cheeriness, and admiration Vaughan had made
+a confirmed habit.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>Muir was a very good-looking barrister, with
+vague parliamentary ambitions and a definite
+love of machinery. He always had pink cheeks,
+and wore a pink carnation, and looked as flourishing,
+gay, and yet, somehow, battered, as Vaughan
+looked pale, fresh, and sardonic. One of the
+things that surprised the general public was
+that Vaughan could not live without the continuous
+society of a person who certainly could
+not understand a word he wrote or much that
+he said. They didn't realise that Vaughan was
+so accustomed to not listening to Muir's long
+confidences, to disputing every proposition he
+made, and contradicting every word he said,
+that he always felt lost when his friend was
+away. Muir regarded him as a combination of
+hero, genius, pet, and child, and was always
+giving him advice and imploring him not to
+do too much. To Vaughan he was, as I have
+said, a habit, and there is always something
+agreeable in a habit of which one is a little
+tired.</p>
+
+<p>He had arrived this morning on his bicycle,
+and came in bringing a whiff of heartiness, self-complacency,
+and fresh air, saying, "Hallo!
+hallo! hallo! Priceless to find you in, Gillie!"
+All he got for it was that Vaughan looked up
+and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You used to be only breezy. Now you're
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>becoming a thorough draught. Fold up and
+keep quiet, can't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nervous, I suppose," said Muir, in a sympathetic
+voice. "I wonder you don't take that
+stuff that you see in the papers about what is
+good for&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Sudden pains in the back on washing-day,
+bending over the tub, and so forth? The portraits
+of the people before taking the remedy
+and after decided me. It seems, by the pictures,
+to make your hair grow long and give you
+whiskers and a ghastly squint. Ruins your
+clothes, too. Your collars get the wrong shape."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh well, leave it alone, then. Perhaps you're
+right.... You haven't asked me about the
+Walmers' dance. I took Miss de Freyne to
+supper. The American chap never turned up,
+and I was getting on with her simply rippingly,
+when <i>what</i> do you think she said? Confided in
+me that she was privately engaged to and
+frightfully keen on that boy you met at Harry's.
+The baby Guardsman. Isn't it sickening?"</p>
+
+<p>"What did Miss Walmer do?" asked Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"She sort of hung about, waiting for Harry,
+who seemed to be getting on all right with the
+two strings to his bow, or two stools, or two
+bundles of hay, or whatever it is. What luck
+some people have!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not in this case. He'll lose them both."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>"Really? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's not a diplomatist, and he wants such
+a lot for himself. He wants too much. No self-restraint."</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty useless for Mrs. Wyburn. I like her.
+She looked topping last night, too. But I dare say
+it'll be all right. Romer's a good chap. Awfully
+dull."</p>
+
+<p>"Most interesting. Are you going to stay here
+much longer, Muir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why? Yes."</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan got up.</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Do. I'm going out."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan did not answer, but gave the heap
+of notices to his friend, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Just divide the sheep and goats for me, will
+you? That's just what they are, the critics&mdash;either
+sheep or goats."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will. But, I say&mdash;I came here to
+have a talk."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you did. You have talked."</p>
+
+<p>He went out. Muir smiled to himself, enjoying
+this treatment as an eccentricity of genius.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later Gillie came back.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>GILLIE INTERFERES</h3>
+
+
+<p>He was not much surprised to find Muir
+proudly examining the invitation cards
+on the mantelpiece. Muir started and turned
+round as he came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Back again? Capital!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of all the snobs!" said Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"Hang it, Gillie, it's only for you. I'm pleased
+you're getting on, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"No words can tell you how I despise your
+point of view. Just tell me something I want
+to know. Wasn't there a sort of little scene at
+this dance last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't see anything," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>"You never do."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I remember now, I heard something. It
+appears that Romer left his wife and Daphne
+at the dance and then came back in an hour to
+fetch them, and she wasn't there."</p>
+
+<p>"Who wasn't where?"</p>
+
+<p>"Val and Harry had gone for a little fresh air
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>in a taxi for about a quarter of an hour, that's
+all. They came back and explained it."</p>
+
+<p>"They would. Don't apologise."</p>
+
+<p>"But just the few minutes that Romer was
+looking for them made&mdash;well, rather a fuss. It
+was perfectly all right afterwards. They all had
+supper together. So there wasn't much talk
+about it, except, as I say, while Romer was
+waiting for them. I never in my life saw any one
+look so ghastly as that chap did."</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan sat down and looked thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>"Only you, Muir, would leave out the only
+thing of the slightest importance that you had
+to tell me, which I hear the second I leave the
+house from that round-faced tattooed idiot,
+Rathbone, at the corner of the street."</p>
+
+<p>"But I tell you it's all right, old chap."</p>
+
+<p>"All right? Don't you see that this sort of
+thing constantly happening will gradually
+undermine ...? I like Valentia. It's a great
+shame."</p>
+
+<p>"Harry certainly isn't worth smashing up a
+happy home for," Muir answered, "if that's
+what you're afraid of. But ... when he marries
+Miss Walmer it'll be all right. Val will forget
+about him, and settle down with Romer again.
+I'm deeper than you think, Gillie ... ah, I
+don't say much, but I can see as far through a
+brick wall as most people!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>"Just about as far, I should think," said
+Vaughan contemptuously.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you propose to do about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's likely I'd tell you." Gillie sat down to
+his desk and rang a bell.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I've got to go now, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Almost time, I should think."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha, ha, ha! Capital! Well, so long! Be
+good."</p>
+
+<p>Muir went away as heartily as he had arrived.</p>
+
+<p>The bell was answered by the entrance of the
+housekeeper, Mrs. Mills. She was a muddle-headed,
+elderly woman in black silk, whom
+Vaughan kept because her extraordinary tactlessness
+amused him. She invariably managed
+to do and say the wrong thing at the right
+time. To-day it was a hot morning in July. She
+came in holding in her hand a little card covered
+with frost and robins.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Vaughan, sir, I appened to be going
+through my things, and I come across this, sir.
+I thought pre-aps you'd like it. It is pretty."</p>
+
+<p>She insisted on his taking it.</p>
+
+<p>"Charming, Mrs. Mills, but I don't quite
+see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, look at the words, sir! They're what I
+call so appropriate! Do read them."</p>
+
+<p>He read the beautiful words&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Wishing you a blithe and gladsome Yule.</i></p></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>"What on earth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, I only thought they was pretty,
+and pre-aps you'd like to keep it, sir, or send it
+to one of your young ladies; but I'll take it
+away if you don't like it." She put it back in her
+pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"Frankly, I don't. What a genius you have
+for the wrong thing! Are you going to give me
+plum pudding and turkey on Midsummer Day?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't dream of such a thing, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Gillie had scribbled a letter.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and ring up a messenger boy, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"May I send Johnson, sir? I don't old with
+telephones. They buzz at you or makes you
+jump. And the young person keeps on saying
+ave you got them? before you've ad time to
+breathe, in a manner of speaking."</p>
+
+<p>She took the note. Vaughan sat down on a
+sofa to wait for the answer, glanced at the clock,
+and said, "Confound Muir! He's made me
+waste another morning."</p>
+
+<p>When the answer came, Gillie went out and
+strolled towards Mount Street.</p>
+
+<p>He found Valentia at home, evidently flattered
+and fluttered at seeing him.</p>
+
+<p>"How sweet of you to come!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll stay to lunch, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I can't."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>"Oh! lunching with a leading lady, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"With whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"With Romeike and Curtice."</p>
+
+<p>"Not really? What fun! What are they like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Romeike is all right. I don't care so
+much about Curtice."</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"I never in my life," said Vaughan, "before
+to-day, attempted to interfere in anybody else's
+affairs."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"But in this case it&mdash;may I really smoke?&mdash;does
+seem such a pity! Of course you know what
+I mean, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I feel so certain that if you were,
+let's say&mdash;married to <i>Harry</i> and met Romer
+after, you'd be so wildly in love with Romer."</p>
+
+<p>"So I was," she said in a low voice. "Tremendously!
+I thought he was a strong silent
+man with a great deal in him.... Oh! I've
+told you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but so he is. It's commonplace of you,
+really, Val, not to see it."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm awfully sorry.... I do love Romer, and
+I think I appreciate him. But somehow it's a
+little dull. It's not exciting as I thought it
+would be."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>"Well! if you <i>must</i> have fun, and amusement,
+and make a hero of somebody, why just
+Harry? Why not a superior man? Me, for instance?"</p>
+
+<p>He was laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been told that an adoration for you
+would be hopeless, utterly hopeless." She smiled.
+"And we're friends. I can't imagine&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I. Of course I know it's utterly absurd
+to come and give people advice on these subjects,
+and one can't dispute about tastes and all that.
+But my practical mind revolts to see any one so
+delightful as you throwing away the substance
+for the shadow. You see, I'm a mass of platitudes."</p>
+
+<p>"Shadows are very attractive sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"But they go away too. And then where are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>She was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"They do, really. I know what I'm talking
+about." He stood up. "Think over what I've
+said."</p>
+
+<p>"You're kind, but you're rather depressing,
+Gillie," said Val. She looked a little frightened,
+but very pretty.</p>
+
+<p>"When do you go back to the country?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, to-day. We're there now. We only came
+up for the dance. We're motoring down to the
+Green Gate.... All of us."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>"Oh yes.... I'm afraid you must think me
+very impertinent."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"And when I've gone you will give orders
+that you're never at home to me again. But,
+somehow, I couldn't help it. If it makes you
+hate me to remember what I've said, forget it."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed as he rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, Gillie; but what I want to
+know is, where you're really going."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you, exactly. I'm going home to
+lunch, because I've an urgent appointment
+immediately afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"More plays, I suppose? What sort this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"A light comedy, with a very slight love
+interest," he answered, "all dialogue, no action....
+At least, so far."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then it isn't finished yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite. Good-bye. And if you ever want
+a change, remember&mdash;a <i>superior</i> man!"</p>
+
+<p>They both laughed insincerely.</p>
+
+<p>He left her looking thoughtfully out of the
+window.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BALD-FACED STAG</h3>
+
+
+<p>Vaughan went home, and after lunching,
+chiefly on a newspaper and a cup of coffee,
+he got into a taxicab and gave a direction.</p>
+
+<p>The vehicle flew smoothly along down Park
+Lane, past the Marble Arch into the Edgware
+Road, and on from there between houses and
+shops, growing gradually uglier and uglier, to
+Maida Vale, up Shoot-up Hill, and so on until
+there was a glimpse of suburban country, and
+gasworks, and glaring posters of melodramas on
+hoardings, till it stopped suddenly at a real little
+old roadside inn, straight out of Dickens&mdash;"The
+Bald-faced Stag at Edgware." Edgware suggested
+<i>John Gilpin</i>, Gillie's favourite poem.</p>
+
+<p>Here he got out, and was positively welcomed,
+and heartily, by a real roadside innkeeper&mdash;also
+out of Dickens&mdash;resembling the elder
+Weller&mdash;a local magnate called Tom Brill,
+who looked a relic of the coaching days, though
+really he never did anything but stand in front
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>of the inn in his shirt-sleeves and welcome
+people.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan, obviously an habitu&eacute;, walked
+through the inn into a perfectly adorable garden,
+which was so large, so quiet, and so full of
+pinks, hollyhocks, and other old-fashioned
+flowers, so absolutely peaceful and sleepy, that
+one could have imagined oneself miles away
+in the country.</p>
+
+<p>The garden belonged as much to the Dickens
+period as the inn itself. It contained a great
+many wooden arbours in which one could
+imagine ladies in crinolines archly accepting
+tea, or refusing sips of shrub (whatever that
+may be) with whiskered gentlemen. There was
+a large cage full of Persian pheasants with
+gorgeous Indian colouring, which always suggested
+to Vaughan&mdash;he didn't know why&mdash;the
+Crimean War. There was a parlour covered
+with coloured prints of racehorses and boxing
+matches, and in which was a little round table
+painted as a draught-board, and furnished with
+a set of Indian chessmen of red and white ivory.
+The whole thing, though only twenty minutes'
+drive from Mayfair, was unknown, unspoilt,
+and apparently had not altered in any particular
+since about 1856. Its great charm was
+that it was utterly unself-conscious; it had no
+idea that it was quaint.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>Vaughan sat down on a rustic seat and
+plunged into the atmosphere of the period that
+he loved, revelling in the soothing, delightful
+calm, and in the fact that nobody there knew
+who he was (though they knew him well by
+name), and that none of his friends and acquaintances
+would have dreamt that he was
+there.</p>
+
+<p>A large field beyond the garden contained
+cows, hay, and other rustic things.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Tom Brill came up to him, and he
+asked after Mrs. Brill, whom her husband
+always described, with confidential pride, as
+"Though I say it that shouldn't say it, as fine
+a woman as you'll meet in a day's march."</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan always assented to this proposition.
+As he had never himself in his life been for a
+day's march, and probably never would, he
+certainly would have had no right to contradict
+Mr. Brill on the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Miss Brill at home?" he presently asked.
+"May I see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, sir, of course you shall. She's
+helping her mother. I'll call her. Don't move,
+sir, don't move."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Brill, who had been helping her mother
+to look out of the window, now came into the
+garden, which immediately became idyllic.</p>
+
+<p>She was not in any way like the innkeeper's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>daughter of Comic Opera. She was a schoolgirl
+of sixteen, with a long, fair plait, a short serge
+skirt, and a seraphic oval face. She ought to
+have been called Fanny or Clara. Unluckily her
+name was Gladys.</p>
+
+<p>She said in a very sweet voice&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite a stranger, sir." And she
+amplified the assertion by adding, "You haven't
+been here not this ever so long."</p>
+
+<p>"I know I haven't, but I've been longing to
+come."</p>
+
+<p>"Not you!" she said ironically.</p>
+
+<p>She was standing opposite him, with her
+hands behind her back. Without a hat, in the
+glaring afternoon sun, with the complexion,
+pale pink and white, of a china doll that had
+never made up, she was a refreshing sight after
+the theatrical world in London, not to speak of
+society. Vaughan seemed to think so.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how did you enjoy the play?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"It was very kind of you to send us the
+tickets. Mother enjoyed it."</p>
+
+<p>"You didn't care much for the piece yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it was rather silly," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He had never had a criticism on his work
+that pleased him more.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>"I mean," she went on, "I shouldn't have
+thought&mdash;well, nobody would go on like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on how?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, go on so silly."</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't like to see another play,
+written by the same man, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't mind another one. Wild horses
+wouldn't drag me to see that again."</p>
+
+<p>"Wild horses are not likely to try," he
+observed. At which jest she laughed loudly and
+charmingly, showing marvellous teeth. She had
+no cockney accent, though she occasionally and
+fitfully dropped an H.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gladys, do take me for a walk in the
+field."</p>
+
+<p>"Want to see the calf?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I can live without seeing the calf. I
+want to sit in the field with you."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a caution! Come on then, but I
+can't stay long."</p>
+
+<p>They climbed the gate, which she seemed to
+think a quicker mode of entrance than sending
+for the key, and sat in the field, from which
+Mr. Brill always declared you could see three
+counties. Perhaps you could; if so, they all
+looked exactly alike.</p>
+
+<p>"It's quiet here, isn't it? I shan't have much
+more of it," she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Gladys! Don't say you're going away!"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>"Of course I am. Don't you know I'm going
+to be a manicure in Bond Street?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bond Street? How revolting! Is that your
+ambition?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I think it would be very nice. I must
+do something. Father's settled about it. First
+I'm going to pay to learn it, and then I shall
+earn quite a lot. It's a great <a class="ins" href="#tnote_7"  name="tAnchor_7" title="airdresser's">hairdresser's</a>."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's horrible, Gladys. Perhaps you'll
+fall in love with a German hairdresser, and be
+lost to me for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't fall in love with no foreigners,
+don't you fret."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not fretting. Will you have your hair
+done up?" he asked, lifting the long plait.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course I shall, and waved, and that."</p>
+
+<p>"Gladys, they'll spoil you."</p>
+
+<p>The conversation went on in this strain for
+some time. She alternately repeated the exclamation,
+"How you do go on!" or accused
+him of the mysterious crime of being a caution,
+but she never stopped looking perfectly beautiful
+and seraphic.</p>
+
+<p>When they went back to the garden a few
+other visitors had straggled in. They all seemed
+to come in high dog-carts, and they always
+ordered eggs, jam, and watercress with their
+tea, and were immensely impressed by the
+Persian pheasants.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>Vaughan went back to London feeling refreshed,
+and already, strangely, counting the
+days till he could come back.</p>
+
+<p>There was not a woman in the world he
+knew whom he would have taken the slightest
+trouble to see except Gladys, the innkeeper's
+daughter. She was an illiterate schoolgirl; and
+though she had a lovely face, she was stupid,
+and probably not so angelic as she looked; but
+he always felt a little disappointed as he drove
+back. He wished she were in love with him.</p>
+
+<p>And this ungratified wish was, in all his full
+life with its brilliant success, perhaps his
+greatest real pleasure.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GREEN GATE</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Harry came down to breakfast, a
+little late, he found Valentia waiting
+to pour out his coffee, and some letters on his
+plate. She watched him as he opened them.
+Most of them looked like bills. On the envelope
+of one was a little blue flag. Harry put this
+letter in his pocket, and went on eating.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a lovely morning, Harry. So fresh;
+just the sort of day not to do anything
+at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that's what's so delightful about you
+all," he answered. "You never say, 'What shall
+we do?' and neither of you have ever said yet
+that this is Liberty Hall, which means, as a
+rule, in a country house, 'Breakfast at eight
+o'clock sharp, you won't mind it being a little
+cold if you're late, and then we are going for a
+motor drive at 9.30.' Still, I think, perhaps,
+one ought to take a little exercise. I feel almost
+equal to a game of croquet this afternoon&mdash;later
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>on&mdash;when I'm stronger. Is any one
+coming down to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. And only Van Buren, and Vaughan and
+Muir Howard on Sunday. I see you've heard
+from the Walmers. What do they say?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's sure to be nothing of interest. How I
+love your hair parted on one side! It makes you
+look like a boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Not a principal boy, I hope. Why not read
+the letter?"</p>
+
+<p>Harry got up and fetched himself something
+from the sideboard.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel quite strong enough yet. When
+I've had breakfast. I should like to paint you as
+you're looking now, Val. I think I'll do a sketch
+of you in the rose garden, all in black and white,
+like a Beardsley, with the balustrades and steps
+and things behind you. Will you sit to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very well. But why don't you
+read your letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's sure to be nothing in it."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you tell till you've opened it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know. I always feel what's in a letter
+without opening it. Don't you? I absorb the
+essence, as it were, through the covers of the
+envelope, as somebody or other&mdash;Macaulay,
+I think&mdash;used to absorb all the important things
+through the covers of a book. Or wasn't it
+Macaulay? Anyhow, it doesn't matter. It was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>some tiresome person whom one oughtn't to
+talk about on a morning like this."</p>
+
+<p>Harry evidently was not quite at his ease.</p>
+
+<p>"But why not read it?" She spoke playfully.</p>
+
+<p>"How persistent women are, just like children.
+To tease you I just shan't."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry!"</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't read it now at all," he went on.
+"I can answer it without reading it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's only that I should like to know how the
+Walmers are enjoying themselves on <i>Flying
+Fish</i>. Lady Walmer was a little afraid they
+mightn't like it."</p>
+
+<p>Here Romer came up to the window and
+called out&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Val, come here a minute. I want to
+ask you something."</p>
+
+<p>"Here I am, dear," and she vanished into
+the garden.</p>
+
+<p>The second she had gone Harry opened the
+letter very carefully, and read&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dearest Harry,</p>
+
+<p>"You are a rotter never to write. I'm
+having <i>such</i> a time. Weather priceless, but very
+sick at not hearing from you. Algie Thynne is
+here. Do you know him? He's rather a nut.
+Wish you were here. No more to-day.
+Bye-bye, old son.</p>
+
+<p class="right">"Your loving "<span class="smcap">Alec</span>."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>"P.S.&mdash;Do write. The moonlight nights are
+simply topping. Just like a picture. I think
+you'd like it; otherwise everything is beastly.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you more than ever.</p>
+
+<p class="right">"A."</p></div>
+
+<p>He put the letter back in the untorn envelope
+and carefully fastened it up again. He then
+placed it on the mantelpiece, and having
+finished his breakfast, lit a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>He looked thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>"Algie Thynne, indeed!" he said to himself.
+"How pathetic, trying to make me jealous!
+Well, it's a pretty letter, and what's more, it
+must be answered."</p>
+
+<p>Val came back.</p>
+
+<p>"Romer wants the lawn mown," she said.
+"He's perfectly mad on the subject of mowing the
+lawn. He seems to think it ought to be shaved
+every day. It's the only thing he knows about
+the country. Well, have you read your letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"There it is," said Harry. "You can read it
+if you like." He watched her carefully as she
+took it from the mantelpiece.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to read it," she said, holding it.</p>
+
+<p>"Nor do I," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, tell me honestly, wouldn't you
+really mind if I tore it into little bits and put
+it in the waste-paper basket&mdash;just as it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a straw," said Harry, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>She clapped her hands, tore it into tiny pieces,
+and threw it in the basket. Then she said, in a
+low voice of deep gratitude&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry, you are sweet! Do forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that there's anything to forgive,"
+said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is; lots. I'm afraid I've been horrid.
+I'll never bother you about any thing again."</p>
+
+<p>She was simply beaming.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," answered Harry indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>But as he followed her into the garden he
+looked rather perplexed. He felt that this sort
+of thing was not leading up very well to what he
+would have to tell her soon. However, why
+spoil a lovely day by thinking of it?</p>
+
+<p>Like a schoolboy with his holiday task before
+him, he put it off as long as possible.</p>
+
+<p>Though he didn't own it to himself, and was
+disdainfully amused at Alec's letter, still the
+thought of Algie Thynne, moonlight nights
+on the yacht, topping weather, and his own
+neglect, gave him some cause for alarm. Algie
+Thynne was <i>cribl&eacute;</i> with debts, and probably keen
+on marrying for money. Contemptible young
+ass! Why didn't he <i>work</i>? Harry despised him.</p>
+
+<p>At the earliest opportunity (which, by the
+way, did not arise until he had made an excuse
+to go into the village, where he wrote at the
+post office) the answer was sent.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>Even Harry found the beginning of the letter
+too difficult, so he always began (as Valentia
+might have said) without a beginning, which
+impressed Miss Walmer much more. Ever since
+he had reached the age of discretion, which, in
+his case, was at his majority, Harry had been
+thoroughly trained in the habit of writing
+letters that gratified the recipient enormously
+without compromising the writer in the slightest
+degree. The habitual dread of those <i>b&ecirc;tes noires</i>
+of Don Juan&mdash;the breach of promise case and
+the Divorce Court&mdash;had got him into the way
+of writing the sort of letter that he would have
+had no objection to hear read aloud in court.
+Perhaps that was why the sentences were always
+polished, and the meaning a little vague.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"... I don't speak your language, perhaps,
+but I understand your letter, reading between
+the lines. It came like a whiff of fresh sea air.
+Yes, it would be delightful to be on board
+<i>Flying Fish</i> now. However, no doubt Algie
+Thynne&mdash;(<i>how</i> eloquently, by the way, you
+describe him! putting all the complications of
+his character and the dazzling charm of his
+personality in a nutshell by the simple sentence
+'<i>He's rather a nut!</i>')&mdash;amply compensates for
+my absence. You ask if I know him. I do,
+though perhaps more by reputation than anything
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>else. We have met once or twice. Where?
+I can't quite recall. Perhaps at the Oratory, or
+at the Supper Club or some place of that sort.
+But somehow I never pursued his acquaintance,
+nor did it ever ripen into friendship. I felt,
+instinctively, that he was too clever for me.</p>
+
+<p>"I trust all the same that his brilliance will not
+altogether overshadow your memory of <i>others</i>. I
+should not like to think that we were drifting apart.
+Still, if it should be so, I must resign myself.
+I could still be happy in thinking of you, Alec.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>'Love that is love at all</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Asks for no earthly coronal'</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>but, I remember, you once expressed to me your
+opinion that <i>all poetry is rot</i>. So I will not bore
+you with quotations. It is pleasant here, and my
+cousins are very kind, and leave me alone to
+think as much as I like. I'm not, somehow,
+quite in the mood for the usual gaieties and
+frivolities of a country house. Last night we
+played Musical Chairs until two in the morning,
+and to-day I am a little weary. Your postscript
+gave me joy. I need not say that I reciprocate it,
+need I?...</p>
+
+<p>"I feel all that you are feeling, and somehow
+even know what you are doing, and if you did
+not write again until we meet, I should not be
+anxious. I have a trusting nature. But when you
+wire, remember that the telegraph boy has a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>good way to walk, and when telegrams arrive
+after midnight, it causes a sensation and much
+inquiry. Also I cannot help feeling that every
+one in the village, as well as at the Green Gate,
+has read the words I would like to keep to
+myself alone. I have a curious love of mystery&mdash;isn't
+mystery the great charm of all romance?&mdash;So
+to gratify this fancy of mine, sign your next
+telegram 'Johnson.' I know you won't mind.</p>
+
+<p>"When we meet again, all, I trust, will be
+clear and definite before us. Best love to dear
+Lady Walmer, and to yourself what I am sure
+you will know. Don't be angry with me for not
+writing oftener. I find it very difficult to express
+my thoughts, for alas, I have no command
+of language. Not only that, the pens here have
+one great fault&mdash;they won't write. Otherwise
+they're quite excellent.... Yes, your note has
+given me, as the French say, 'furiously to think.'</p>
+
+<p>"Hoping that all will go well with you, and
+looking forward, think me as always,</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+"Yours, faithfully,<br />
+"<span class="smcap">Harry Broke de Freyne</span>."<br />
+</p></div>
+
+<p>"There! that ought to keep her quiet for a
+month," he thought as he posted the letter,
+and with a sigh of relief turned back towards
+the Green Gate.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3>A SUNDAY AFTERNOON</h3>
+
+
+<p>By this time Van Buren was entirely in
+Harry's confidence; that is to say, Harry
+had gradually trained him to bear without
+flinching the situation as Harry represented it.
+He believed Harry had a hopeless romantic
+affection for Mrs. Romer Wyburn which he was
+trying to stifle, and that Miss Walmer being
+hopelessly in love with <i>him</i>, he was doing his
+best to marry her, partly, as he candidly admitted,
+on worldly grounds.</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren was deeply touched at Harry's
+trust in him, and was always trying to keep him
+up to his good resolutions by pointing out that
+any understanding (however Platonic) between
+the pretty Valentia and the handsome guest was
+dishonourable, a breach of hospitality towards
+Romer, that silent but admirable host.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, he repeated to Harry so often and so
+firmly, "It can't be done; one can't make love
+to the wife of a friend," that Harry was driven
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>to the point of replying that he hardly saw
+whom else, as a matter of fact, one <i>could</i> very
+well make love to; it being impossible to have
+romances with people one didn't know. And in
+this case the fact that Harry was very fond of
+Romer made the temptation far greater, as he
+explained; Harry being (as he pointed out) so
+very sensitive and highly strung that he could
+never, somehow, be really attracted by a woman
+whose husband was not sympathetic to him.
+Which point of view Van Buren, shaking his
+head, regarded as unsound.</p>
+
+<p>Harry now spent much time giving picturesque
+sketches and impressions of his feelings
+to his friend, for he had an almost feminine
+love of talking over personal affairs to the
+sympathetic. In his benevolence Van Buren
+longed to protect Valentia and Romer, and to
+give Miss Walmer all she wanted; but most of
+all his idea was to save Harry from himself, so
+he always accepted with alacrity invitations to
+the Green Gate for altruistic reasons. Besides,
+his desire to see Daphne, although she was now
+becoming more and more remote to him, was
+still persistent, if a little less vivid.</p>
+
+<p>"I've had a beautiful womanly letter from
+Alec to-day," Harry confided in Van as soon as
+he arrived. "You know the sort of thing she
+writes: all in jerks and subaltern's slang. With
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>sincere sentiment showing between the lines.
+And I answered it."</p>
+
+<p>"A beautiful manly letter, I hope? I'm sure
+you could do that as well as any one, Harry."</p>
+
+<p>Harry smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just some vague, cautious slosh, not
+unamusing in its way&mdash;it'll <i>get</i> there all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Harry, I know, but I do hope&mdash;&mdash;Ah,
+Miss Daphne, how beautiful your England is
+looking to-day! In America we never have a day
+like this, warm and yet cool, with all those nice,
+white, fleecy clouds in the sky. Our atmosphere
+is always so hard and clear. Now this garden with
+those large trees is just like a Corot. They <i>are</i>
+fine trees. Poplars, I presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>do</i> presume," smiled Daphne; "I don't
+know what they are, but I'm perfectly sure
+they're not poplars."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes&mdash;I'm wrong. They're oaks, I've no
+doubt." He hummed, "'The oak and the ash
+and the bonny ivy tree.' Do let's walk over and
+look at them closer, Miss Daphne."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I can't. Tea's ready."</p>
+
+<p>To his annoyance Van was obliged to follow
+Daphne and join the group round the tea-table.
+He declined with some formality of manner to
+accept the glass of iced water Daphne offered
+him, and looked at her with that look of tender,
+fixed, respectful reproach that had the effect of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>irritating her very nearly to the point of incivility.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to Muir Howard, who was looking
+very pink and cheery. Muir was a popular man
+for his great ease in making conversation, the
+kind that is as the pudding part in a plum pudding,
+and without which the plums, however
+delightful, could hardly stick together. Though
+the great majority of people talk commonplaces,
+their banalities are by no means always the
+kind that help. Muir's particular way of opening
+open doors, flogging dead horses, and
+genially enjoying any spark of fun in his friends,
+coupled with his good looks and pleasant, hearty
+disposition, made him a most useful and welcome
+guest, as a sort of super. He was quite decorative,
+and could be turned on to talk newspaper politics
+to dull men, pretty platitudes to plain women;
+to make himself generally useful, and altogether
+to help things to go. In this way he was invaluable.
+Young girls always liked him; he was a great favourite
+with elderly ladies, and with men of his
+own age also, who were, however, occasionally
+bored with his worship for his friend Vaughan.
+He found it very difficult not to mention Gillie
+less than once in every five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>That distinguished young man, who was beginning
+to look a little jaded with incense, was
+engrossed with his hostess. Whenever he was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>there Harry always became particularly devoted
+in his manner to Valentia, and scarcely ever
+left her other side. This was one of the reasons
+that she enjoyed Gillie's presence, besides that
+she was, now that she knew him well, particularly
+fond of him. His conversation and personality
+in general had a special flavour.</p>
+
+<p>Every one was talking and laughing with the
+light intoxication produced by tea and cigarettes
+in the open air on a fine Sunday afternoon,
+excepting only Romer, who as usual said hardly
+anything, absorbed in admiration of his wife.
+He suddenly remarked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I say, Val. The Campbells are coming."</p>
+
+<p>He wondered why this statement produced
+a burst of irresponsible laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"What fun! Will there be bagpipes?" Vaughan
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no. Romer means the Prebendary
+Campbell, or at least his wife and daughter.
+They're coming to see us this afternoon. I had
+quite forgotten. Please all behave nicely.
+They've been a long time making up their
+minds. I believe they think we're frivolous."</p>
+
+<p>"Not really? How could they? It reminds one
+of the story of Henry James." Vaughan stopped
+to light a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on."</p>
+
+<p>"It appears that for some time his near neighbours
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>in the country looked a little coldly on
+him on the grounds that, being a writer, he
+must be Bohemian. At last the local doctor's
+wife and clergyman's wife called on him, and
+finding him perfectly respectable, stayed for
+many hours. They were particularly tedious and
+rather self-righteous. When they had gone, he
+said thoughtfully to some one who was pitying
+him for being bored, 'One of those poor wantons
+has a certain cadaverous grace.'"</p>
+
+<p>The story was well received, except by Van
+Buren, who seemed painfully shocked.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne, who had gone into the house to
+fetch some snapshots, now came running back
+saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Val, Val! The Campbells are arriving in a
+fly, and they seem to have brought their
+foreigner with them&mdash;that man Miss Campbell
+told me about. He's a kind of Belgian, and awfully
+clever&mdash;he's invented something."</p>
+
+<p>"What's he invented?"</p>
+
+<p>"Brussels sprouts?" suggested Harry rather
+sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>"But they've been invented already."</p>
+
+<p>"Why shouldn't he invent them over again?
+Give him a chance."</p>
+
+<p>Muir began to sing softly, "Young Lochinvar
+has come out of the West," which he appeared
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>to think a suitable serenade, but he stopped
+suddenly at Gillie's entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind anything Muir does, as long as
+he doesn't sing," he always explained.</p>
+
+<p>"It's awful hard lines. I've got a ripping
+baritone voice, but I never have a chance to use
+it," murmured Muir.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall sing to me this afternoon. I'll
+accompany you," whispered Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>Muir had gratefully answered that it was
+frightfully decent of her, when the servant
+announced&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. and Miss Campbell. Mr.&mdash;&mdash;" He left a
+blank, unable to pronounce the name.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Campbell introduced Mynheer von
+Stoendyck.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Mrs. Campbell was an amiable, colourless
+woman, with a greyish brown fringe that looked
+as if it were made of Berlin wool. Though she
+was not yet forty-five, she wore a bonnet with
+violet velvet strings, and had a very long waist.
+Also, her skirt, in reality quite normal, looked,
+to the eye used to contemporary fashion,
+grotesquely wide at the end.</p>
+
+<p>Her daughter was an ordinary Rectory girl,
+spoilt by a dash of culture. At a glance all present
+saw she was in love with Mr. Stoendyck. He was
+a well-set-up man of about thirty-five, with a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>military manner and scientific eye-glasses, also
+a turned-up light moustache. He spoke all
+languages with one rasping accent, but Mrs.
+Campbell seemed to suffer under the delusion
+that he could only understand broken English.
+So whenever people spoke to him she translated
+their remarks into a sort of baby language that
+seemed singularly out of place from her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid you must think me dreadfully
+worldly, calling on you on a Sunday," said Mrs.
+Campbell, laughing socially as she sat down.
+"But what the Prebendary always says is, the
+better the day the better the deed."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, does he always say that?" Harry asked
+with great apparent interest, waking up. He had
+been overpowered with languor ever since lunch.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I felt sure you wouldn't mind our
+bringing our friend, Mr. Stoendyck. He is so
+clever. He's come over to England about an
+invention."</p>
+
+<p>Val thought of Brussels sprouts, but did not
+suggest it.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Campbell apparently couldn't take her
+eyes off the Belgian, whom she watched as one
+watches a rather dangerous pet, though he
+appeared particularly safe.</p>
+
+<p>Muir, for an unknown reason addressing the
+Belgian as Professor, was asking him his impressions
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>of England. Mrs. Campbell bent forward,
+and said with a nod&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"E ope you like it&mdash;Angleterre, you know"&mdash;and
+nodded idiotically.</p>
+
+<p>"I find it most interesting," said Mr. Stoendyck
+raspingly, in admirable English. "There
+are opportunities in this country for the
+pursuance of science, art, and social intercourse
+which one would hardly have expected. I do not
+take tea, I thank you much."</p>
+
+<p>"Have a glass of beer?" said Romer, suddenly
+inspired.</p>
+
+<p>Simple as the sentence was, Mrs. Campbell
+thought it necessary to translate it with more
+nods.</p>
+
+<p>"E ask you, ave beer. <i>Bi&egrave;re</i>, you know! Glass,"
+and then she went on in her usual tone, "Most
+thoughtful of Mr. Wyburn, I'm sure. What a
+charming place this is of yours, Mrs. Wyburn. I
+always say the Green Gate is the most picturesque
+place in the neighbourhood. And Mr. de
+Freyne, I understand, is an artist. Do you know
+my daughter, Marion, is <i>so</i> interested in art!
+And my younger son, Garstin, though he is only
+twelve years old, shows great artistic talent, too.
+He did a map of Buckinghamshire that really
+surprised me, almost any one would recognise it
+at a glance. I always say I'm sure some day
+Garstin will be in the Royal Academy."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>Van Buren had approached and began to talk
+to Mrs. Campbell. Val went over to the Belgian,
+but she heard the American beginning a sentence
+as usual with, "Pleased to meet you. I've never
+had the opportunity of mixing much in clerical
+circles in New York, Mrs. Campbell," and felt
+sure he was going to ask impossible questions
+about Prebendaries and Rural Deans.</p>
+
+<p>The rasping Belgian, on whom both the
+mother and daughter cast continual anxious and
+admiring eyes, though he seemed thoroughly
+able to take care of himself, said to Muir, who
+was taking him on&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not spend my entire time over my
+invention. Mrs. Campbell is so kind as to take me
+for drives in the environment, to give me a right
+impression of the beauties of Hertfordshire. For
+relaxation I play the piano."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! <a class="ins" href="#tnote_8"  name="tAnchor_8" title="musical,">
+Musical,</a> eh, Professor?" asked Muir
+shrewdly. "That's right; so am I. I'm awfully
+keen on music." He spoke reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stoendyck looked at him through his
+glasses, and said without interest&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed. I find Beethoven's Fifth Symphony,
+even on the piano, extraordinarily satisfying and
+refreshing to the mind after the strain of looking
+at English scenery." He drank a long draught of
+iced lager.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Classical, eh? I'm not up to that. Queen's
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>Hall, eh? That sort of thing."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon? Is there&mdash;&mdash;Has the
+Queen a hall in this neighbourhood?"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you mean, Professor?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Campbell, who managed to hear through
+her own conversation with Van Buren, called
+out&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"E say e no understand," and nodded smilingly,
+seeming to think she had helped matters
+considerably.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Campbell talked of tennis, matins, hats
+and the opera to Daphne, but appeared to be
+absent, and occasionally smiled at the foreigner,
+who ignored her.</p>
+
+<p>At last the Campbells and their Belgian withdrew,
+Mrs. Campbell saying that the Prebendary
+wished them to go to Evensong. Their departure
+left, as such visits do, a blank and a reaction. Our
+friends were silent for a minute.</p>
+
+<p>Then Vaughan said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I feel crushed, and a little flattened out, too."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> feel as if my brain were made of cotton
+wool," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Come and sing," suggested Daphne to Muir,
+and they went off to the drawing-room, from
+which strains were soon heard about <i>It IS not
+because</i>,&mdash;something or other.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>In the middle of the song Daphne played a
+wrong note, stopped, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish Cyril was here!"</p>
+
+<p>"So do I. If he can accompany, I wish he was
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, go on!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>It IS not because thy heart is mine</i>"....</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The party in the garden listened with a
+worried expression.</p>
+
+<p>"How about croquet?" suggested Val. "The
+tapping noise will take it off."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Come on."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't," said Romer. "The lawn wants
+mowing."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE ROSE GARDEN</h3>
+
+
+<p>"How lovely this place must look at dawn!"</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove! That's an idea, Gillie," said
+Harry. "It must look glorious."</p>
+
+<p>They were sitting in the rose garden with
+Valentia. It was still quite light, though the
+sunset glow had nearly faded. There was a rich
+mellow tone in the sky, a promise of peace, a
+feeling that it was the end of the day, which,
+combined with the almost cloyingly sweet scent
+of the roses, was enough to make any one feel
+poetical.</p>
+
+<p>"To think we've never seen the sun rise here!"
+exclaimed Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>Romer here joined them, smoking a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>"Hasn't Romer ever seen the sun rise here?"
+Vaughan asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Never," said Romer.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I suppose because it always
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>happens after I've gone to bed," he answered
+drily.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's sit up all night and see it to-morrow,"
+suggested Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Capital! Do let us!" said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>Romer did not appear much taken with this
+scheme.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, you mustn't <i>sit</i> up," said Vaughan.
+"That's not the way to see it."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there so much difference between staying
+up and getting up then?" Val asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, all the difference in the world.
+You must get up fresh, with the birds."</p>
+
+<p>"What time do birds get up? Is it <i>very</i> early?"</p>
+
+<p>"It would do if you were out at three this
+time of the year, or even at four."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let's do it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't think I shall," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>She answered&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You might make a sketch, you know, of the
+early birds getting up to catch the worms. But&mdash;I
+don't think I shall. Anyhow, not <i>to-morrow</i> at
+<i>half-past three</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Harry with a nod, "we won't.
+Don't tell Daphne, or she'll be out at 3.15 to the
+tick, to take a snapshot of the dawn."</p>
+
+<p>"A snapshot of the dawn! Wouldn't that be
+sacrilege?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>"Young girls are always inclined to that.
+They're so prosaic," said Harry, getting up. "I
+must go and see what Van is doing."</p>
+
+<p>He walked away with his usual quick, supple
+step and casual bearing. They watched his slim
+figure as he went. Then Romer followed him,
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan turned to Valentia and said: "I
+shouldn't if I were you."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, meet Harry at half-past three to-morrow
+morning in the rose garden."</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious! I never thought of doing such
+a thing. Besides, it was your idea.... As a matter
+of fact, I really assure you it wouldn't be here. It
+would be in the orchard if anywhere. There is
+the loveliest cherry-tree there, with a seat all
+round it."</p>
+
+<p>"How jolly! I'd like to see it. Will you give
+me the key?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you it was kept locked?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked rather annoyed.</p>
+
+<p>"You did, but not intentionally."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that you have really any right to
+suppose&mdash;&mdash;Why shouldn't I go in my own
+orchard, at any hour I like?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Val&mdash;of course you ought to go in your
+own orchard. But why don't you meet Romer
+there?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>"Oh, Gillie, really!..."</p>
+
+<p>"He is so straight, so good-looking, and, under
+all that manner, he's exactly like Vesuvius. Yes.
+Fancy, you're living with a volcano and you
+don't appreciate it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gillie, it's really rather stupid of you to put
+things like that. It isn't a question of liking
+either one person <i>or</i> another. If Romer were ill,
+or anything like that, don't you <i>know</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know you'd devote yourself to him, like a
+sister or a mother. You'd put Harry aside for a
+time as a pleasure that mustn't be indulged in.
+Now that's just where you're wrong. No! <i>I</i> want
+to see you being ever so good and kind to dear
+Harry as a duty to a ne'er-do-well of a cousin;
+and regarding Romer&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"My point is," he went on, "that it's really
+too distressingly conventional of you to suppose
+that because you happen to be legally married
+there can be no sort of romance. Only comradeship,
+or perhaps affectionate sentiment? That's
+what you believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it always so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most often, I grant. That's generally through
+the man's point of view. But Romer is an exception.
+He's as much in love as if he had no hope
+of ever being within a mile of you."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>She seemed rather flattered. "Do you really
+think so? But even that isn't everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there's a great deal to be done with
+Romer," was Vaughan's reply.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with dreamy significance, and she
+was silent. Then she exclaimed, turning round
+suddenly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose what you really mean is that
+Harry doesn't care a bit about me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't. But he cares a bit about a lot of
+people, and things. He's superficial, and he has
+no courage."</p>
+
+<p>"No courage? <i>Harry!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"He'd crumble up in a crisis if a strong man
+took him in hand."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all nonsense." She was growing
+angry. "Hasn't he been up in an aeroplane, and
+done&mdash;oh, all sorts of things? I call Harry
+daring and brave!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all vanity. All that is show and vanity.
+Oh, Valentia, do forgive me."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try.... here he is."</p>
+
+<p>He was seen coming towards them again.
+Her anger flickered out at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he thinks we've been here long
+enough," she said, smiling as women do at such
+symptoms.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he does. Vanity&mdash;just vanity."
+Vaughan strolled away.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>"Look here! What were you two talking
+about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. About you, Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"Rubbish. What was he talking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"You, only you."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't see that that chap's so brilliant! It
+seems to me he's just like anybody else. And his
+work shows it too, really. No soul, no real heart
+in it. All from the outside."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, Harry, nobody is more kind-hearted,
+more&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Val, I won't have it. Do you
+hear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have what, Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>He lowered his voice. "I won't have it. You
+must go back. It isn't that <i>I</i> mind. But Romer
+will soon think it extraordinary, your sitting
+out alone so long."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he won't."</p>
+
+<p>"All right then, he won't. He must be an
+ass," said Harry angrily. "I don't know what
+he's thinking of. Hasn't he got eyes?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course he has."</p>
+
+<p>"And eyelids too," said Harry. "I dare say
+he pretends not to see that Vaughan admires
+you. Too indolent to bother about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Really. Harry&mdash;you go too far. Are you
+thinking of pointing it out?"</p>
+
+<p>She got up.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>"One second," said Harry pleadingly. "It's
+cruel of you to go now."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you said we'd better get back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your hands look so lovely by this light," he
+spoke in his softest voice.</p>
+
+<p>"We really must go."</p>
+
+<p>"Then at half-past three. I'll bring my
+sketchbook. Do you know where the key is?
+Perhaps you've lost it. You are so dreadfully
+careless." He now spoke in the tone of a reproving
+husband.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got it. Do you think we'd better? I'm
+rather tired. Shall you be able to wake?"</p>
+
+<p>Harry turned away.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, it doesn't matter, Val. I shall be
+going soon, and then&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She followed him quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Harry. Of course."</p>
+
+<p>He gave her a grateful look. They joined the
+group on the little verandah in front of the
+house. Van Buren was sitting in the corner and
+seemed in the depths of depression. From the
+windows could be heard once more strains of
+music. Daphne was playing an accompaniment.
+Muir had again begun the song, and got a little
+further into it&mdash;"<i>It is not because thy heart is
+mine, mine only, mine alone.</i>" But Vaughan
+came up promptly and stopped it.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<h3>SEEING THE SUN RISE</h3>
+
+
+<p>What a delicate air there was in the
+garden! There had been a little rain in
+the night, but Valentia supposed it to be dew.
+Every little sound seemed the softest music, to
+the sound of which little dainty things seemed
+to be dancing in the air. The Green Gate, a red
+Georgian house, seen in the early glamour with
+all its blinds down, except one, seemed like a
+thing half asleep with one eye open.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment she was a little frightened. He
+was late. She had perhaps got up for nothing.
+But no, it was worth it. It was lovely here.</p>
+
+<p>Another eye of the house slowly opened, and
+soon Romeo, or Paolo, or Faust, appeared.
+True, he was disguised as a flannelled fool, with
+a sketch-book under his arm. But it <i>was</i> Faust,
+or Romeo, or Paolo, all the same. He looked
+very handsome. The thought of scoring off
+other people in the house had raised his spirits
+and had even made him wake up in time.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>Valentia's conversation with Vaughan, whom
+she knew to be honest and believed to be
+brilliant, had left a certain insidious influence
+on her which would tell gradually, and yet
+their talk had had rather a contradictory effect
+for the moment. She wanted to prove to herself
+that he was wrong. And Harry felt that his
+time was growing short. Very soon he must put
+an end to it all.</p>
+
+<p>This thought made him more affectionate. It
+occurred to him for a moment that he would
+tell her in the orchard; but, of course, he didn't.
+Every day he thought he would tell her, and
+something always happened to prevent it.
+Besides, there would have to be a quarrel anyhow
+at the end, so why make it longer than
+necessary?</p>
+
+<p>They sat down under the cherry-tree.</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy you, Valentia, a minion of the moon,
+rising before dawn! Let me look at you. You
+fill me with wonder and joy."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you mind getting up <i>very</i> much,
+Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>was</i> rather hard. Listen!... That's a
+thrush, making a scene with another thrush in
+the tree."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it? How do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is! How do <i>you</i> know things?
+How did you know exactly what to wear, Val?
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>I knew you had clothes for every possible occasion;
+but still, to choose the <i>exact</i> right dress to
+put on to meet your cousin at dawn in the
+orchard seems&mdash;well, rather extraordinary.
+Pinkish blue&mdash;or is it bluish pink?&mdash;to match
+the sky. How jolly! It fastens in front."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course I couldn't expect Ogburn to
+get up in the middle of the night."</p>
+
+<p>"And no hatpins for once, thank goodness."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if we <i>sat up</i> till now I shouldn't be
+wearing a hat, should I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't argue. It's too early."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't really early. It's very late."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Val! You're being logical."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hands and looked at them, and
+quoted&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>They are pale with the pallor of ivories,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>But they blush at the tips like a curved sea-shell.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry!"</p>
+
+<p>He was thinking. He looked almost miserable.
+"I don't see&mdash;I must admit&mdash;how I shall ever
+be able to leave your hands!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you? What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I only meant I couldn't...."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!"</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?... Some one coming along
+the lawn."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>"Doesn't it sound curious?" she said&mdash;"so
+<i>rustly</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who can it be? Surely your friend Vaughan
+couldn't get up at this hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! Of course not. They're coming
+here." She jumped up.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and open the gate at once," said Harry,
+giving her the key. "I'll wait here a minute."
+While she obeyed he used a good deal of language.
+He now felt that he would give all he
+possessed to keep her there five minutes longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy! It's Romer!" exclaimed Valentia.
+"He hasn't seen me yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Go to him at <i>once</i>. Tell him you got up to
+see the sun rise. I'll come directly and join you.
+Oh, confound it! <i>Do</i> look sharp. Seem pleased to
+see him." He spoke in a harsh tone of command.</p>
+
+<p>She ran to meet Romer, saying jokingly,
+"Fancy meeting you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd be here. I went to your
+room and found you were out. Thought I'd get
+up early."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad. <i>Isn't</i> it lovely and worth seeing
+here? Come and pick some fruit in the orchard."</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>do</i>! Harry's devouring gooseberries.
+He's sketching the sky."</p>
+
+<p>"Why doesn't Harry come?" said Romer.</p>
+
+<p>He had no expression, and it was always
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>impossible to guess by his looks or his tone what
+he was thinking or feeling, except when he
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Here he is."</p>
+
+<p>Harry joined them.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious, old boy! Who in the world&mdash;!
+What on earth made you come out so early?"</p>
+
+<p>Romer now smiled and looked at Valentia
+admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Gardener's not up yet. Thought perhaps I'd
+mow the lawn," he said apologetically.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>"REPLY PAID"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Valentia had been hurt at the tone in
+which Harry had given his orders, and
+turned from him to help to find the mowing-machine.</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't she look jolly at sunrise? All that
+pink and mauve in the sky tones in so well. It
+seems to suit her. That's how she really should
+be painted," said Harry, in the tone of an artist
+admiring his model. "Don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Romer.</p>
+
+<p>"She looks like a golden rose," Harry went
+on. He wanted to please Val, who he saw was
+annoyed with him, and to emphasise the openness
+of his admiration to Romer. "Doesn't she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," said her husband.</p>
+
+<p>Harry felt the morning was spoilt and the
+situation absurd. He could not bear to be thwarted
+in any way. He went back to his own room,
+bounced angrily on to his bed, and went to sleep
+again, after having seen Valentia through the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>window helping to push the mower, and saying
+to himself&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How like a woman! I shall go up to town
+with Van Buren and send a wire to Alec."</p>
+
+<p>This was his revenge.</p>
+
+<p>Their momentary fears about Romer were
+completely dissipated. He seemed exactly as
+usual. As a rule he was even-tempered. Not
+many people had seen him put out, though he
+could be very angry, except with Valentia.
+During this day he seemed, for him, a little
+irritable. Perhaps, Val thought, through getting
+up too early.</p>
+
+<p>Harry went up to town with Van Buren for
+the day, intending to return the same evening.
+He soon recovered himself in the course of
+copious confidences in the train. As soon as he
+had arrived in London he began to count the
+minutes before he should go back.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia expected the elder Mrs. Wyburn to
+lunch.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do with her to-day?" Val
+asked Daphne. "She must be kept in a good
+temper, because it's the last time she'll come
+down before going to Bournemouth. It's rather
+a pity they've all gone. Romer is sure to say the
+wrong thing to her&mdash;let out some trifle that
+we have been carefully concealing for months&mdash;praise
+up Harry, or something."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>"Doesn't she like Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Since he went to see her she likes him for
+herself, but not for me."</p>
+
+<p>"What cheek! But he's not here."</p>
+
+<p>"No, if he were she might like him again all
+right. Then, Romer talks too slowly for her.
+Her mind works quicker than his, and one can
+only deal with him by racing on in front, and
+turning round to beckon. With Mrs. Wyburn
+there are only two things that are any use&mdash;dash
+and volubility. It's difficult to keep the
+thing going when she's alone with us."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why not pass the time this afternoon
+by returning the Campbells' visit, and take
+Mrs. Wyburn with us to 'The Angles'?" Daphne
+suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! It's treating them almost like royalty
+to go so soon. And there's the Belgian man."</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't she like Belgians then, Val?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've never asked her. Only, don't you see, it
+isn't that but the Belgian is what Harry calls a
+blighter&mdash;a beano-blighter; and so is Mrs. Wyburn,
+and it doesn't do to have two beano-blighters
+in the same party."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see; they'd clash. What <i>is</i> a beano-blighter
+exactly, Val?"</p>
+
+<p>"A person who blights beanos. Who makes
+every one a little uncomfortable, casts a gloom
+over entertainments&mdash;has to be taken in hand
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>and dealt with separately from the others&mdash;doesn't
+blend, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean some one who isn't the life and
+soul of the party?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't. That's almost as bad in its way.
+In fact, the life-and-soul-of-the-party person
+casts almost as great a gloom on the rest as a
+blighter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! Yes, I see."</p>
+
+<p>"We must meet her at the station in the
+motor. I shall put on my blue serge and my
+plain sailor. She mustn't see me in the garden
+without a hat, nor in a real one. You do the
+same, Daphne."</p>
+
+<p>"But my sailor's too large in the head, and
+that makes it fall over my eyes, and that gives
+it a Frenchy look, like <i>L'Art et la Mode</i>," protested
+Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>"Stuff it with paper. Here's the <i>Bystander</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, isn't it a pity? There's such a pretty
+picture of&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't bother."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn was gracious to-day, and all
+was going well when, about half-past five, a
+telegram, reply paid, was brought. It was addressed
+to Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, keep it till he comes. He'll be back to
+dinner," Romer said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>"Suppose it's something urgent," said Val,
+seeming a little agitated. "Don't you think perhaps
+we ought to open it? He won't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't. It's addressed to Harry," said
+Romer.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Wyburn's quick eyes took in some signs
+of tension, but she continued giving them
+advice about the garden. She thought the
+flowers too florid, and was always a little shocked
+at the extravagant scent and exuberance of the
+roses. She seemed to think they should be kept
+more in their place&mdash;not allowed to climb all
+over the house, and romp or lean about the
+garden doing just what they liked. She had
+winced in the drawing-room, relented in the
+dining-room, and refrained, really, only in the
+kitchen, that she had insisted upon seeing. It
+was the only room to the decoration of which she
+gave whole-hearted praise and approval. The
+cooking at the Green Gate she admitted to be
+perfect, without pretension. In fact, she thought
+everything in the house a little overdone, except
+the mutton.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't think who that wire can be from,"
+Val said several times to Daphne when her
+mother-in-law had gone. She meant that she
+could think.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you'll know directly. Harry's arriving."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>Harry found it in the hall, and came in
+with it.</p>
+
+<p>"You open it for me," he said, giving it to
+Val.</p>
+
+<p>Since his last instructions to Alec he felt perfectly
+safe.</p>
+
+<p>She read&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Thousand thanks awfully bucked at letter
+at Queens' Hotel Cowes for three days could you
+join us there wire reply fondest love and kisses.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Johnson</i>."</p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<h3>GLADYS</h3>
+
+
+<p>On arriving in London, Vaughan found his
+secretary with the usual heaps of letters.
+One envelope, addressed in a large and rather
+infantine hand, was put aside for him. The
+note ran&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p class="right">
+"The Baldfaced Stag,
+Edgware.
+</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Mr. Vaughan,</p>
+
+<p>"I eard only yesterday that the play you
+kindly sent me and mother to was wrote by
+you, I call it a shame you didn't tell me before,
+we saw the name on the programme, but never
+thought it could be the same but yesterday
+mother saw a piece in the paper about you in
+the weekly dispatch and she said it was the
+same, I'm sory I said the people in the play
+went on silly I beg pardon for calling the play
+silly I wouldnt have done it if Id known, so
+hope youre not angry, they seemed to me to go
+on silly, but I dont reelly know much about
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>those kind of ladies and gentlemen, we saw the
+piece in the paper only yesterday and mother
+said it was the same, we hope you will soon
+come again to tea the calf is better believe me
+yours truly</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+"<span class="smcap">Gladis Adelaide Brill</span>."<br />
+</p></div>
+
+<p>He instantly wrote back&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Miss Brill,
+</p>
+
+<p>"I am <i>so</i> relieved and thankful to hear
+the calf is better, all the more because I had no
+idea it had been indisposed. I fancied, though,
+it was looking a little pale the last time I had
+the pleasure of meeting it in the field. Please
+don't think again of your criticism. It gave me
+very great pleasure. You must think me very
+foolish. You could say nothing that I would
+not like except to ask me not to come and see
+you. I am very busy just now and so have little
+time for afternoon calls, but will come one of
+these days soon.</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+"Yours always,<br />
+"<span class="smcap">Gilbert Hereford Vaughan</span>."<br />
+</p></div>
+
+<p>He waited a moment, and then added&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I will turn up to-morrow at four. Try not
+to forget me till then."</p>
+
+<p>For the rest of the day he was in high spirits.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>The letter seemed to keep him up through the
+various little bothers of the day. He had been
+going to France for the summer. He admitted
+to himself that this semi-flirtation was keeping
+him in England. He didn't like the idea of
+going away very long from the possibility of
+turning up at the "Bald-faced Stag."</p>
+
+<p>The explanation Harry gave about Johnson's
+telegram satisfied Valentia for the time, as he
+declined the invitation to Cowes, but the incident
+left an uneasy feeling in Val's mind. She could
+not bear to own to herself that he was deceiving
+her, and he hadn't the courage to give it away
+yet, not that he cared so very much about hurting
+her, but he was happier at the Green Gate
+than anywhere else. He liked the house, the
+atmosphere, and Romer; but what kept him
+most was, of course, that curious charm Valentia
+had for him, which was perhaps stronger than
+ever because he knew that the end was not far
+off. He often thought he was a fool not to have
+taken the opportunity to break it off on this
+occasion. He couldn't stand the idea of not seeing
+her, just because of the way her hair grew on her
+forehead! So low, and in such thick waves! Alec
+Walmer's hair, also fair, was thin and unmeaning.
+She had a low forehead, and yet the hair
+began high up. In the evening when it was
+carefully arranged, and the iron had entered
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>into it, it looked like a stiff transformation,
+even worse than when left to nature.</p>
+
+<p>But of course, in spite of the reconciliation, a
+residue of mistrust remained, and on his side a
+sensation of restlessness which left him irritable;
+less amiable and pleasant than usual.</p>
+
+<p>They were sitting on the little terrace. He was
+smoking and reading the paper. He suddenly
+threw it down and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How quiet you are, Val! Why don't you
+talk?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I've got anything to say."</p>
+
+<p>"You seem depressed," he said, rather
+aggressively.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel a little depressed."</p>
+
+<p>Harry gave expression to the usual injustice
+of the unfaithful.</p>
+
+<p>"What a mistake women make in being
+gloomy! How foolish it is. Shall I tell you the
+key of the whole situation between men and
+women?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear, it's just&mdash;a <i>smile</i>. Never be dull,
+never be ill, never be depressed. Be gay&mdash;always
+gay. That's what men like&mdash;that's the one
+thing that they go out for and come in for&mdash;a
+smile."</p>
+
+<p>"Your ideal of a woman seems to be a Cheshire
+cat," she answered, looking rather amused.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>"Your motto is, like the man in <i>The Arcadians</i>:
+Always Merry and Bright. Well, I'm sure there's
+a good deal in it. But I'm not usually accused of
+being a dreary person."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you're not; you're charming,
+lively, amusing, sympathetic. That's your great
+attraction, Val. But the last few days you seem
+rather to have lost it."</p>
+
+<p>"You can hardly resent my feeling a little
+down, Harry. One or two little things that have
+happened lately have made me anxious."</p>
+
+<p>"Never be anxious. You ought to trust, trust&mdash;always
+trust."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all very well! That wire...."</p>
+
+<p>"Are we going to have that all over again? I
+thought I'd explained." He assumed the air of
+a patient martyr.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you <i>explained</i> all right. Well, I won't
+think about it any more. Don't be horrid, Harry....
+Have you seen this week's <i>Punch</i>? There's
+something in it simply <i>too</i> heavenly&mdash;such a
+joke! Let me read it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very sweet of you&mdash;but do you ever
+realise&mdash;&mdash;I wonder if it's ever struck you, Val,
+that men aren't always in the mood for heavenly
+jokes? There are times when one likes to think&mdash;to
+see life as it is&mdash;to discuss abstract things,
+even."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>"Oh! Well ... what do you think of Daphne's
+dress? Isn't it pretty? It was made by Ogburn, all
+out of nothing, in no time."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Daphne, who was sitting under
+a tree reading Cyril's last letter over again.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right. It suits <i>her</i>. I don't call <i>that</i> a
+serious subject."</p>
+
+<p>"What subject would you like, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;Romer, for instance. Where is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Talking to the gardener about mowing. Do
+you want him? I'll call him if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Val, it's not quite like you to be ironical
+to <i>me</i>.... You ought not to laugh at Romer
+either. I'm complex, perhaps&mdash;I know I am; but
+it jars on me when you do that."</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here&mdash;I know I'm tiresome," said
+Harry, returning to his usual caressing manner.
+"Don't take any notice of it. It's&mdash;the weather,
+I think, or want of exercise. I'll go and improvise
+a little."</p>
+
+<p>He pushed back his chair, and, with a parting
+look of forgiveness, he went into the house and
+began to improvise (rather dismally) a well-known
+funeral march. Or perhaps it was only a
+coincidence. Perhaps he would have thought of
+it if Chopin hadn't.</p>
+
+<p>Harry was only musical by fits and starts, and
+generally either to impress some one or because
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>he was out of temper. Val never regarded it as
+a good sign when he grappled with the Steinway.</p>
+
+<p>In ten minutes he had grown tired of his
+mood of melody, and strolled into the rose garden
+with a book.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, certainly Harry was restless.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ANGLES</h3>
+
+
+<p>"You're very quiet, Val," remarked Daphne,
+as they flew along in the motor on their
+way to call on the Prebendary's wife at The
+Angles.</p>
+
+<p>Both sisters wore little cottage bonnets, blue
+motor-veils, and large loose white coats with
+high collars.</p>
+
+<p>"How can I talk when we're exceeding the
+speed limit?" said Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>"You usually do. Is anything the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, nothing at all.... Harry's been horrid
+lately."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he <i>is</i> occasionally."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he's not. He's got the artistic temperament,
+and of course he can't always be the same,
+poor dear."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity one can't be an artist without
+having the artistic temperament! It always
+seems to mean being late for meals, and losing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>your temper, or being amusing when every one
+wants to go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"As a matter of fact," said Valentia, "I never
+knew any one with less of it than Harry. There
+isn't a more hard-headed business man in the
+world in his way, though he <i>has</i> read poetry and
+plays the piano sometimes, and paints. He is an
+artist too ... but&mdash;well, not in any of the
+recognised arts.... I hear Miss Luscombe and
+Rathbone&mdash;I mean Mr. and Mrs. Rathbone&mdash;have
+gone to Oberammergau for their honeymoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Is that the latest thing to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, Daphne, but she thinks it is.
+Miss Luscombe has spent her life in trying to
+catch the last omnibus and always just missing it,
+and she's not going to leave off now just because
+she happens to be married. Here we are!"</p>
+
+<p>The Prebendary's wife received them very
+graciously. Her waist looked longer than ever,
+and her skirt seemed more than usually abnormal
+in width. She did all that she could to
+entertain them. She showed them her son
+Garstin's map of Buckinghamshire, and then
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I'll send for Mr. Stoendyck. He's upstairs
+inventing. You can't <i>think</i> how clever he is and
+how hard he works. It's really wonderful! We
+often leave him alone for hours to think things
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>out, and sometimes he plays sonatas; he says it refreshes
+him. He really is an extraordinary man."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stoendyck came in, looking very martial
+and scientific and pleased with himself, as though
+he had just invented gunpowder. Mrs. Campbell
+began as usual to talk baby language, and play a
+kind of Dumb Crambo at him. He never seemed
+able to guess the word.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we haven't interrupted you in your
+studies," said Val politely.</p>
+
+<p>"She say she ope she not interrupt. Work, you
+know. Oeuvre&mdash;Arbeit."</p>
+
+<p>"I was just amusing myself with the very
+witty paper from Germany, <i>Kladderadatsch</i>. It
+is very funny," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds funny," said Val sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"What I find in England is that you're all
+wonderfully serious, wonderfully courteous,
+wonderfully kind"&mdash;he bowed to his hostess;
+"but, you'll excuse my saying so, I don't find
+enough wit or lightness for my temperament.
+For humour I have to go to Belgium or
+Germany."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with intense solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Campbell now began to translate him
+even to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"You say you like fun, wit&mdash;just fun to make
+laugh?" She made strange signs with her
+fingers.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>He did not appear to understand the code.
+He stared at her with a frown, and rasped on
+seriously&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I find a few comical jokes occasionally a
+great relief after my heavy work. It is very deep
+work."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it would be indiscreet to ask what
+the invention is?" said Valentia, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. There is nothing indiscreet whatever
+in your curiosity, Mrs. Wyburn."</p>
+
+<p>He took a scone covered with butter and
+swallowed it in an extraordinarily short time,
+and in an ingenious manner.</p>
+
+<p>"No, there's no indiscretion in the matter at
+all. Do not trouble yourself on that score. It is
+merely the natural interest that a cultivated
+and intellectual English lady would naturally
+take when she hears of an extraordinary invention
+from another country." He bowed, and
+having thus explained her to herself, he then
+ate another scone.</p>
+
+<p>"She say she want to know, you know,"
+nodded Mrs. Campbell, putting up a playful
+and threatening finger with dignified coquetry
+and a stony smile. (She was subject to fits of
+this kind of marble archness unexpectedly.)</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. So I understood."</p>
+
+<p>The Belgian was looking at Daphne with
+distinct admiration. Of course Miss Campbell
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>came and sat down beside him. Women always
+follow their instinct to come and sit on the other
+side of any man whom they regard as their
+property. They seem to think that merely by
+sitting on the other side they protect him from
+freebooters. As a matter of fact, it would be
+more sensible, if to distract his attention were
+the object, to sit opposite with some one else.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stoendyck turned his back on her completely,
+and said to Daphne&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Very charming, those motor-veils, and the
+whole costume. At the same time, while being
+thoroughly practical and sensible, it is, if I may
+say so, extremely becoming."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed with a condescending air, and went
+on&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The English young girl&mdash;at least, such
+specimens as I have seen in the neighbourhood,
+especially in the country&mdash;seems to me a wonderfully
+beautiful object. In Belgium we are
+getting on, but we have not reached, as yet,
+the point of freedom combined with modesty
+that you constantly see over here. Particularly,
+as I say, in rural districts."</p>
+
+<p>He then made what can only be described,
+vulgarly, as a distinct 'eye.'</p>
+
+<p>Both the Campbells looked uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"The Prebendary will be in soon," said Mrs.
+Campbell. "He promised faithfully to come
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>back to tea to-day. He also is a very busy man.
+He come in soon," she spoke reassuringly.</p>
+
+<p>Daphne was suddenly taken with a <i>fou rire</i>
+and began to laugh helplessly. Val, seeing her
+condition, and knowing that when she once
+started there was no hope but in immediate
+flight, took leave.</p>
+
+<p>They were cordially asked to come again by
+Mrs. Campbell. But Mr. Stoendyck invited them
+to lunch, and wanted to fix a day and hour. Mrs.
+Campbell, however, declined his invitation for
+them. Mrs. Wyburn, she said, must have a
+great many engagements.</p>
+
+<p>They left Stoendyck standing in the hall,
+looking sentimental.</p>
+
+<p>"All foreigners not of the Latin race go on
+like that," said Val, as they drove back. "They
+may be scientific, or soldiers, philosophers, or
+musicians, but if they're Germans or Belgians
+or Austrians, or anything of that sort, they
+always get bowled over by a young girl, a blue
+ribbon, plumpness, or fair hair."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm very thin and dark," said Daphne
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if you are. You're a pretty girl,
+you're unmarried, you've got blue chiffon round
+your head&mdash;and there it is.... I don't mean
+Prussian officers, of course."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>"<i>They</i> would appreciate <i>you</i>, I suppose you
+mean!"</p>
+
+<p>"One can't say. They'd probably take on anything."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia took out the little looking-glass from
+her motor-bag, looked at it, put it back, and
+added&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Anything possible, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on, Val."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on how?"</p>
+
+<p>"Telling me things. You're so interesting,
+you know such a lot. Now, about the Latin
+races&mdash;wouldn't they like&mdash;er&mdash;me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they would. But they'd like you
+better if you were married to Cyril or any one.
+Frenchmen and Italians always want their love-making
+or flirtations to have something in it
+of the nature of a <i>score</i>. They love scoring off a
+third person, whoever it may be,&mdash;whether it's
+their friend's wife, or their wife's friend, or
+anything."</p>
+
+<p>"They're not sincere, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be silly. If they weren't sincere, why
+are there nothing but unwritten-law crimes all
+over France and Italy? And why do Parisians
+think and talk of ... nothing else! They're
+<i>sincere</i> all right: it's their hobby. Italians, of
+course, are more jealous and faithful, and
+Parisians are frightfully vain&mdash;there's a good
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>deal of a sort of snobbism about it. They love to
+show off. That's why they're so keen on dress."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think," said Daphne, with sudden
+anxiety, "that if you don't dress to perfection
+you can't keep a man's love? I <i>do</i> hope not! I
+mean because when I'm married to Cyril I
+shan't be able to afford to wear anything at all,
+except a clean blouse which I shall have to
+iron out myself, like in <i>Hearth and Home</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Valentia shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Dressing to perfection doesn't make men
+love you, silly. It only makes women hate you.
+And I never have yet seen the advantage of that."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then, do Parisians want other women to
+hate you?" asked Daphne. Her sister hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes. Very often they don't. They
+want you to be admired by other people, whoever
+they are, men or women. But in Paris dress
+counts in a different sort of way&mdash;it means more&mdash;it
+stands for more. Oh, don't bother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, give me a straightforward Englishman!"
+exclaimed Daphne.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed!" replied Val. "That Belgian
+Herr, anyhow, doesn't count. I can't think why
+Mrs. Preb. and Miss Campbell are so much in
+love with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it funny? Why do you think it is, Val?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it's because he's a man. You see,
+they're accustomed to curates."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+
+<h3>AT EDGWARE</h3>
+
+
+<p>Miss Brill had twisted up her hair and
+put on her Sunday dress to receive
+Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>To harmonise with the <a class="ins" href="#tnote_9"  name="tAnchor_9" title="Dicken's">Dickens's</a> garden it
+ought to have been white muslin with flounces
+and a pink sash. But it was a quite long, dark
+blue Liberty satin, made by a smart dressmaker
+in the Finchley Road. It had a high collar, an
+Empire waist, and gathers.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother was delighted with it. Gladys
+had not been quite satisfied herself, and had
+tried to tie it in round the ankles with concealed
+string, to make it look more like a nobble skirt,
+as she called it.</p>
+
+<p>Her almost too abundant hair had been piled
+over a pad, which gave her the appearance of
+having a swollen head. Yet even so she looked
+lovely, rather like an old-fashioned picture in
+the Academy of <i>I'se Gan'ma</i>, or something of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>the kind, suggesting a baby disguised as a
+grown-up-person.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan went through the usual ritual of
+asking after Mrs. Brill&mdash;he rather hurried Mr.
+Brill over his remark about the finest woman
+one would see in a day's march&mdash;then admired
+the weather, ordered tea, and asked for Miss Brill.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys came and sat down with a rather shy,
+self-conscious air.</p>
+
+<p>She soon lost it, however, and began to get
+natural again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Vaughan! I <i>never</i> was more surprised
+than I was at that piece in the paper! And
+mother come over quite queer, she was so
+surprised. You were kind in your letter to forgive
+me for being rude. Who'd ever have
+thought you was clever?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who, indeed! But, Gladys, why this get-up?
+Why are you dressed up in satin and dark colours
+on a summer day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, mother said a nice navy blue was
+always useful. I'd rather have had a Cambridge
+blue myself. Mother says navy blue's so ladylike.
+Don't you like it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Charming. But I don't like what you've done
+to your hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you, though? Fancy! Well, I don't
+seem to care much for it myself. It's a Pompadour,
+you know&mdash;a pad."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>"Take it off," said Vaughan.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can't!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right, <i>I</i> will. Come in the field."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't mind if you do. I'll say I took
+my hair down because it was heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"You've tried to spoil yourself, but you
+haven't succeeded. Why did you do it, Gladys?"</p>
+
+<p>"Seeing you was clever, I thought pr'aps I'd
+better try to look more grown-up."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! what a mistake! Your great charm is
+that you're such a regular J.F."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>jeune fille</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"What does that mean? What's a J.F. in
+English?"</p>
+
+<p>"A jolly flapper."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>In the field Vaughan, with several interruptions
+and reproaches for being a caution,
+managed to take the pad off her head and to
+throw it in the field. But an unfortunate thing
+happened. All the corn-coloured hair fell down
+over his face and he had kissed her&mdash;by accident&mdash;before
+he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say! You are a caution!" was her only
+remark. But she did not laugh, and as she hastily
+did a little amateur coiffing, he thought she
+looked slightly annoyed. At any rate, she hadn't
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>much more to say to him, and he went back to
+London almost immediately, feeling quite absurdly
+agitated about such an unimportant trifle.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>An hour later, when quietly at home in his
+study, Vaughan was suddenly seized by that
+species of madness that has been known to wreck
+careers, "to launch a thousand ships," to cause
+all kinds of chaos. It was that terrible
+<i>once-on-board-the-lugger-and-the-girl-is-mine-I-must-and-shall-possess-her</i>
+feeling in its most acute
+form. Most men have known it at some time in
+their lives. He thought of Harry de Freyne, and
+felt noble and superior in contrast to what <i>his</i>
+conduct would have been, as he sat down and
+wrote with intense pleasure&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>
+"Darling Gladys,
+</p>
+
+<p>"I love you. Will you marry me? Please
+try. I'm writing to your father. Don't keep me
+waiting long for the answer.</p>
+
+<p class="sgntr noind">
+ "Yours for always,<br />
+<span class="smcap">"Gillie</span>."
+</p></div>
+
+<p>He then wrote a long and sensible letter to
+Mr. Brill; all business, respect, and urgency,
+saying he knew that Gladys was very young, but
+that he would make her happy, and so forth.</p>
+
+<p>These two letters he sent off by express messenger
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>in a taxicab to the "Bald-faced Stag,"
+and then sat down to dinner.</p>
+
+<p>What a dinner! And what an evening he
+spent! He planned a long journey&mdash;what fun to
+show the child new places and things! Why
+shouldn't he marry the charming, refined, and
+beautiful daughter of an hotel-keeper? He
+decided even on alterations in the house, and
+he meant to be ecstatically happy.</p>
+
+<p>What did he care for people? He had never
+lived either to <i>&eacute;pater</i> the <i>bourgeois</i> or to satisfy
+the ideal of the gentleman next door. He was
+going to do something <i>he</i> liked!...</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>He woke up the next morning at six o'clock
+with a ghastly chilly horror on him. What had
+he done? Had he been mad? To marry Miss Brill,
+the daughter of the landlord of a little suburban
+public-house! A girl of sixteen, pretty enough
+certainly, but with no pretensions to being a
+lady, no possibility of having anything in common
+with him. But it wasn't so much the
+question of what people would say&mdash;of course,
+most of the women he knew would drop him,
+and the men would laugh at him and make love
+to her&mdash;but, how long would it last? How long
+would this strange mania endure? Perhaps not
+a week. The poor child would have an awful
+time, too. She was much happier as she was.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>Well! He was a sportsman, and had taken
+the risk. He must wait now. At the back of his
+mind he was wondering how he could get out
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>He had not to wait long. His letters were
+answered by the first post. Evidently, the "Bald-faced
+Stag" had been kept up late that night to
+reply in time.</p>
+
+<p>Gladys wrote very respectfully that she was
+very sorry she hadn't told him before, but she
+was privately engaged to the son of the landlord
+of the Green Man at Stanmore: the Eldest
+Son, she wrote with pride (as though he would
+inherit the title). She was awfully sorry. Besides,
+she was going to be a manicure, first, for two
+years, and then settle down at Stanmore. Her
+fianc&eacute; was twenty-one. She hoped Mr. Vaughan
+would come over to tea very soon, and she
+thought his letter was very kind, and remained
+his truly, Gladys Brill.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brill had written a long and slightly
+rambling letter which suggested rough copies
+and even some assistance from the old vintages
+of the "Bald-faced Stag." He refused most firmly,
+though thoroughly sensible of the honour done
+him by Mr. Vaughan's offer, but he couldn't go
+back on his word to his friend at the Green
+Man. The arrangement had been made, when
+Gladys and the son were in their cradles, by
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>him and his pal of the Green Man and he
+couldn't go back on his word. And Gladys liked
+the young chap; and it was a great honour,
+indeed, that Mr. Vaughan had done them, and
+it would have been splendid for Gladys in the
+worldly sense. But there! it was better, perhaps,
+not to mix up Stations. Mr. Brill repeated this
+sentiment over and over again, always using
+a capital S for station&mdash;(as though Vaughan had
+expressed an insane desire to confuse Victoria
+with the Great Western). And he remained very
+respectfully, Tom Brill.</p>
+
+<p>"A manicure in Bond Street and then the
+landlady of a common country inn! Never! She
+shan't! I'll go down and persuade her. I'll make
+them come round."</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan was so hurt and disappointed that
+he felt he could never smile again.</p>
+
+<p>But he did.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+
+<h3>TENSION</h3>
+
+
+<p>When the sisters came back from their
+drive Harry was sitting on the little
+marble terrace reading <i>Count Florio and Phillis
+K.</i> and smoking cigarettes. With almost conjugal
+unfairness he complained that Valentia
+always went out just before he arrived. In fact,
+he had begged her to get the visit over that
+afternoon, as he intended to be late.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia sat down and began a lively account
+of "The Angles," but he implored her not to
+describe those awful people at home, and particularly
+not to tell him anything about that
+poisonous Belgian. Then he told Val that blue
+didn't suit her, and, when she agreed with him,
+petulantly complained that she had no ideas of
+her own.</p>
+
+<p>"But I had an idea of my own; only now you
+say it's wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"So it is. But, even if it is wrong, you should
+stick to it. You should have more individuality."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>"What an awful word," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter with the word?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. It's so long."</p>
+
+<p>"You're talking nonsense, Valentia."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, why shouldn't I talk nonsense? I'm
+sure I've heard you say there's nothing so depressing
+as a woman with no nonsense about
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"I know. But there needn't be nothing else."</p>
+
+<p>"Harry, are you trying to quarrel? If so I'd
+better go away."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right! Very well! Do as you like,"
+said Harry. "It seems a curious way to treat a
+guest: to go out when you expect him, and then
+the moment you come in to make an excuse to
+leave him alone again. But please yourself!"</p>
+
+<p>He took up his book and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia went into the house, to her room,
+and sat down opposite the looking-glass with a
+sigh. It was at moments like these that she
+sometimes thought, with a slight reaction, of
+Romer. Romer was never capricious, never
+irritable, never trying. It was true that he rarely
+answered her except in monosyllables, but yet
+she knew that he delighted in and tacitly encouraged
+her fluency. He did not respond to
+every idea she expressed as Harry did (when
+Harry was in a good temper), but she knew she
+had no better audience. His extreme quietness
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>might be admitted, occasionally, to cast a slight
+gloom, but negatively what enormous advantages
+his silence had! Romer never scolded,
+never laid down the law; never thought it
+necessary to give her long, minute, detailed
+accounts of his impressions of art, or life, or
+literature; never insisted on pointing out, as if
+it were a matter of life and death, precisely
+where he differed in his opinions of a book, a
+play, or an incident, from the criticisms in the
+daily papers. Nor did he refer to some annoying
+past incident half a dozen times a day as a
+sealed subject. He had other qualities. He could
+take tickets, he could sign cheques (and even
+seemed to like doing it). He could see about
+things. He wasn't selfish. Yes, Valentia thought,
+when she saw Harry at his worst, that perhaps
+she didn't really quite appreciate her husband.
+How irritating Harry would have been in that
+capacity!</p>
+
+<p>Daphne came in, and Valentia went on, as
+usual, with her thoughts aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't Harry be a maddening husband?"
+she said as she brushed out her hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Would he? In what way?"</p>
+
+<p>"He'd be so selfish, so obtrusive&mdash;he'd always
+want you to do exactly what he liked, just when
+he liked, and never when he didn't, or when
+you liked, I mean."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>"How could he like you to do what he liked
+when he didn't like? That would be expecting
+too much. I don't see what you mean, Val."</p>
+
+<p>"I only mean that when he's in a bad temper
+Harry's tiresome, and if he were married he'd
+be in one oftener."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! Are most men bad-tempered when
+they're married, Val?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Nearly always."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>What?</i> Then, will Cyril ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Cyril's a pleasant, easy-going boy, but, as
+you won't have enough money, he's sure to be
+bad-tempered at times."</p>
+
+<p>"Then aren't married men bad-tempered
+when they have plenty of money, Val?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if they have a great deal they're awfully
+bad-tempered, too; because, you see, then they
+lose it, or if they don't do that they're always
+trying to enjoy themselves with it and finding
+the enjoyment flat, and then they blame their
+wives. Besides, anyhow, having enough money
+leads to all sorts of complications."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear! Then what do you advise?"
+Daphne hung on Valentia's words, respecting
+her superior knowledge and experience.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I advise enough, anyhow. It can't make
+you happy, but it can avoid certain troubles.
+Love in a cottage is only all right for the week-end
+when you have a nice house in London as
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>well, and a season ticket or a motor, and electric
+light and things, and a telephone. Oh, by the
+way, our telephone here is eating its head off.
+We never use it. Go and ring up to the grocer,
+not to forget to send the things, will you, dear?
+He's got a telephone, too&mdash;the only tradesman
+in the village who has."</p>
+
+<p>"What things isn't he to forget to send?"</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know?&mdash;the usual things. He
+never does forget, but it looks well to remind
+him, and the 'phone needs exercise."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. But before I go, Val&mdash;suppose you
+can't have the sort of love-in-a-cottage you
+mean, and there's no fear of your being so rich
+that it makes you miserable, what is the best
+thing to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I suppose the old business in the old
+novels, a competence with the man of your heart,
+would do all right."</p>
+
+<p>Daphne looked pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"For six months, anyhow. Or a year or two,
+perhaps," Val added.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear!" cried Daphne again, as she left
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor pet," Val murmured to herself. "I hope
+I'm not teaching her to be cynical."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>GOOD-BYE</h3>
+
+
+<p>The only person in the family who did not
+thoroughly approve of Gladys's decision
+was her mother. Mrs. Brill thought it sheer
+madness to decline proposals of a 'gentleman
+from the West End,' as she called him; so clever
+and so rich, so handsome and so much in love.
+She was romantic and yet worldly in her views,
+and was much excited at the idea of the rivalry
+for her daughter. There were bitter scenes
+between Mr. and Mrs. Brill on the subject. Mr.
+Brill was not romantic nor worldly, but he was
+very sentimental, and he didn't hold with breaking
+his word to the Green Man, nor indeed with
+that mixing up of Stations to which he had
+already alluded.</p>
+
+<p>Between the opposing views of her parents
+Gladys became somewhat bewildered. She liked
+the son of the Green Man (he was in reality
+only a green boy, but good-looking, and she
+had always known him), and she wished to be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>loyal to him. Yet her mother's remarks about
+Mr. Vaughan began to appeal to her imagination,
+such as it was. She was rather dazzled and
+began to weaken. She was at the age when one
+can really be in love with anybody, and she was
+flattered. Though she felt she would feel more
+at home with her childhood's friend, she began,
+very slightly, to look down upon him when she
+compared him with Gillie.</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan came down the day after he had received
+her letter, and behaved precisely as usual.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brill, meeting him with a rather shamefaced
+air in the garden, said straightforwardly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Very pleased indeed to see you, Mr.
+Vaughan. You got my letter, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed. To my sorrow. I want to talk
+to you about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I was sorry to write it, sir, if you take
+my meaning. But there! Well, Mrs. Brill 'as expressed
+a wish for a few words with you, if you
+wouldn't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be delighted, of course. But&mdash;may I
+see Gladys?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, sir. Tea and bread and butter?
+The usual thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, please. As usual." Mr. Brill lingered.</p>
+
+<p>"Ave some watercress with it, sir," he added
+sympathetically, "or we've got some very nice
+little radishes. Ow about them?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>Vaughan nearly laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you! I'm afraid they wouldn't be
+any use to me, Mr. Brill."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha, ha! You will have your joke!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brill went in and told his wife that Mr.
+Vaughan was "sitting there looking that miserable
+it was enough to make one's heart ache."</p>
+
+<p>With this satisfactory intelligence he sent
+Gladys into the garden.</p>
+
+<p>She was all blushes and shyness. Her hair had
+gone back into the long plait, and she wore her
+schoolgirl dress again.</p>
+
+<p>"You're too proud, Gladys!" he said reproachfully.
+"Why did you never tell me of your
+engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I didn't ardly count it to interest you,
+Mr. Vaughan. Besides, it's not to be for two
+years."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you in love with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what a question! I <i>like</i> him. He's a
+nice boy."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose he's very much in love with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's all right."</p>
+
+<p>"That was a very cruel letter you wrote me,
+Gladys."</p>
+
+<p>"I was afraid you'd think it rude," she answered
+apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear. It isn't rude to refuse a proposal.
+You can't accept them all, can you?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>"You've made a wretched tea, Mr. Vaughan.
+Is there anything else you'd like?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I want to go in the field again, like the
+day before yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it only the day before yesterday? So it
+was. A lot seems to ave appened since. Well,
+come along."</p>
+
+<p>She looked such an absolute child as she
+climbed the gate that Gillie felt almost ashamed
+of his proposal, and thought that probably her
+father was quite right.... But her face was so
+exactly like Sir Joshua Reynolds' angels' heads,
+she might have sat for them. She was too absurdly
+pretty. And sweet, too, he thought. She had
+no vulgar pretensions, she was simple. She only
+wanted a little polish. He could teach her everything
+necessary. No task could have been more
+congenial....</p>
+
+<p>"So you think I'm too old for you. Is that it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it isn't. It isn't that. It's what father
+told you."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you hate to go for a long journey
+with me, to see other places, other countries?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no; I'd like it. We went to Clacton last
+summer. It <i>was</i> fun."</p>
+
+<p>He thought a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Gladys, as you're so young, won't you leave
+the whole thing in abeyance for a time?"</p>
+
+<p>"In what, did you say?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>"Undecided. Let me come and talk to you
+about it in six months. The only thing I can't
+bear you to do is to be a manicure. I'm going
+to speak to your mother about it. I can't stand it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, why, Mr. Vaughan? I should have
+thought it was nice for me to sort of better
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense. Far better stay here. Well, will
+you agree to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"To give up the manicuring and to leave the
+engagement open like? Is that what you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the idea."</p>
+
+<p>She thought a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"I really don't see how I can. And&mdash;my boy
+would feel it something cruel if I put him off
+like that."</p>
+
+<p>"When do you see him?" he asked jealously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, on Sundays. Only on Sundays."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's why I've never seen him. I
+wondered why I'd never met my hated rival."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now, you're going on silly, like the
+people in the play!... I don't believe you alf
+mean it."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you believe I love you?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can you? You don't ardly know me,
+except as a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you why I love you if you like,
+dearest."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>"Well, why?" She spoke with girlish curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you're lovely, and lovable, and
+sweet. Because you're a darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I say!"</p>
+
+<p>"Doesn't your boy, as you call him, say these
+things to <a class="ins" href="#tnote_10"  name="tAnchor_10" title="you?'">you?"</a></p>
+
+<p>"Not like that. I only see him on Sundays."</p>
+
+<p>"And does he kiss you on Sundays?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes."</p>
+
+<p>Vaughan got up.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, I won't worry you any more....
+I'll let you be happy in your own way, dear....
+I must go now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>must</i> you?"</p>
+
+<p>She seemed very disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm going to France."</p>
+
+<p>"What, to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, next week."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I am sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, dear."</p>
+
+<p>He went in and bid adieu to Mr. and Mrs.
+Brill and the "Bald-faced Stag" for ever. He said
+to her father that he was resigned.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>As soon as he had gone, Gladys went upstairs
+to her room, looked in the glass, then burst out
+crying.</p>
+
+<p>She had fallen in love with Gillie.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>ROMER OVERHEARS</h3>
+
+
+<p>Romer started to go by himself for a five-mile
+walk, leaving Daphne, Valentia and
+Harry in the garden, but a nail in his boot hurt
+so much that, after the first half-mile, Romer
+decided he couldn't stand it any longer, and
+would walk back, go quietly in, and then surprise
+them by coming to tea in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>He was gone a very short time, but he
+hastened his steps, looking forward immensely
+to the removal of the boot, and also to seeing
+Valentia again.</p>
+
+<p>Lately he had been more than ever devoted
+to her. Ever since they had been at the Green
+Gate she had been specially gentle and charming&mdash;but
+not nearly so lively as usual. Sometimes
+she looked quite anxious and preoccupied.
+He thought, too, that she was
+occasionally irritable; which was unlike her&mdash;and
+her spirits varied continually.</p>
+
+<p>He asked her one day what was the matter,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>and she assured him that there was nothing, so
+he believed her. But he was always thinking
+about her, trying to find some means to please
+her. He was dissatisfied about her.</p>
+
+<p>He came back, went into his room, and his
+spirits incalculably raised by the cessation of the
+torture, he went and sat by the window, and
+looked out at the lovely garden.</p>
+
+<p>It was a hot summer day; a little wind was in
+the trees.</p>
+
+<p>Exactly under the window, on the little
+verandah, sat Harry with Valentia. Daphne was
+no longer there.</p>
+
+<p>They were talking; and talking, it seemed to
+him, in an agitated way.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning a little over he could see Valentia on
+a bamboo chair. To his horror he saw that she
+was crying.</p>
+
+<p>Harry, speaking in a suppressed but rather
+angry voice, appeared to be trying to comfort her.</p>
+
+<p>Without a second's hesitation or a moment's
+scruple, Romer intently listened. He did not hide
+or draw behind the curtain. He remained in full
+view, in the window, so that they could see him
+easily if they happened to look up. But they did
+not; they were far too much preoccupied.... He
+heard Harry speaking volubly, saying, in a tone
+of irritated apology and explanation&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>"My dear girl, I do wish to heaven you
+wouldn't take it like that. I haven't changed&mdash;I
+never shall. I don't care two straws about Miss
+Walmer. But really, it is such a splendid chance
+for me! You ought no more to expect me to give
+it up than any other good business opportunity
+that might crop up."</p>
+
+<p>"I should never see you again," she answered,
+her voice broken by sobs.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you would. We should be the same as
+ever. You know we can't do without each other.
+You're part of my life."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke casually, but with irritation, as if
+mentioning a self-evident fact.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you say that," she answered sadly.
+"But nothing could alter the fact that you wish
+to be treacherous, and throw me over&mdash;and just
+for money! It's simply degrading. It's all nonsense
+to say it will be just the same!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course&mdash;for a time&mdash;immediately
+after the marriage&mdash;it couldn't be; but it would
+gradually drift into very much the same."</p>
+
+<p>"It wouldn't, even if it could, because I
+should never see you again," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>Harry stood up with his hands in his pockets,
+his shoulders raised.</p>
+
+<p>Romer could see his face quite plainly, and
+wondered at its hard, selfish, almost cruel expression.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>"Well, if you won't you won't," he said.
+"How can I waste all my life dangling after a
+woman who is married to somebody else? I
+should be only too delighted&mdash;if I could afford
+it. But I can't, and that's the brutal truth. And
+then, you know, there has been a little talk.
+That mother-in-law of yours has been gossiping
+about us. Some day, Romer's bound to get
+hold of it, and then where shall we be? Don't
+you see, dear," he went on more gently, "this
+will stop all that? Wouldn't it be better for me
+to be married&mdash;just in this official sort of way&mdash;to
+remain in England, and be able to see you
+just the same as ever&mdash;very soon&mdash;than to go
+out to the colonies or somewhere, and never
+see you again at all? There's no doubt I've got
+to do something. I'm in a frightful hole. Seven
+thousand a year&mdash;a place in the country&mdash;and a
+decent sort of girl, dropped down on me, as it
+were, from heaven! I hadn't the slightest idea
+of such luck&mdash;and hadn't any pretensions to it.
+But the girl has taken a liking to me, and her
+mother wants to get her married. It's ugly&mdash;unromantic&mdash;but
+there are the facts. If you
+cared for me really, I shouldn't think you would
+want to stand in my way."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, do it, then," she said, drying her
+eyes. "If you can speak in this heartless way it
+shows you are very different from what I believed
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>you. But it will kill me; I shall never get
+over it."</p>
+
+<p>She was rushing away when Harry caught her
+hand and stopped her.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," he said, in an impressive voice. "Go
+to your room, bathe your eyes, and calm yourself
+down. Make no more scenes, for heaven's
+sake, and we'll see what can be done."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry, really&mdash;<i>is</i> there any hope? Or
+are you deceiving me again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've almost agreed to it, you know," he said.
+"Still, there's not what one could call an actual
+engagement yet. At any rate, it might be delayed.
+I'll see; I'll think&mdash;really if I weren't so
+hard up I wouldn't do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Harry!" A gleam of joy came into her
+eyes, and she clasped her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you won't worry me any more about
+it for the next few days?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I promise;" and smiling sweetly through her
+tears she left him, going into the house. Her
+room, on the same floor as Romer's, was at the
+other end of the corridor, so she did not even
+pass his door, and had not the slightest idea
+that he was at home.</p>
+
+<p>He was still at the window, looking out apparently
+at the garden.</p>
+
+<p>Harry gave an impatient sigh, lit a cigarette
+and strolled off through the garden.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>It had been about three o'clock when Romer
+had come in and sat down by the window. He
+was still there in precisely the same position at
+seven, when his valet brought his hot water.</p>
+
+<p>But Romer could not dress and go down to
+dinner. He could not see them till he had made
+up his mind what to do. He always thought
+slowly, and now he was acutely anxious to make
+no mistake. He felt that by the slightest wrong
+move he might lose Valentia altogether. That,
+at least, was his instinctive dread. He sent Valentia
+a message that he had to go up to London
+to see his mother, and would be back the next
+day. He arranged that she did not get the message
+till he was driving to the station&mdash;just
+before dinner.</p>
+
+<p>He went up to London and stayed at an
+hotel, but did not go to his mother's, and
+thought nearly all night till he had made a
+resolution. Then he slept till nine o'clock, feeling
+much happier. He remembered clearly that
+Harry was coming to town and going to the
+studio on this day, as he often did. He calculated
+that he would be likely to arrive by the
+quick early morning train, and was standing
+waiting at the door of the studio at twelve
+o'clock when Harry drove up, looking intensely
+surprised, with hand outstretched, cordial and
+delighted.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>"My dear fellow, how jolly of you to remember
+I was coming up! Come in, come in! I've
+only got this bothering business to attend to,
+then we'll lunch together, and go back by the
+four train, shall we? You won't have to stop on
+here, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Romer, as he followed
+Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother's not ill, I hope," said Harry,
+throwing himself into an arm-chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so," said Romer; "she's at
+Bournemouth."</p>
+
+<p>"Bournemouth! How like her! But you
+haven't been down there to see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it isn't your mother that brought you
+up to town, old chap?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Is anything wrong?" asked Harry, after a
+moment's pause.</p>
+
+<p>It struck him that Romer looked very odd,
+and as he noted a slightly greyish tinge in
+Romer's face, he turned pale himself under his
+becoming sunburn.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" repeated Harry, who
+could not be quiet. His weakness lay in the fact
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>that he never, under any circumstances, could
+entirely "hold his tongue."</p>
+
+<p>Romer put down his stick and hat, which he
+had been holding, took a chair exactly opposite
+Harry, stared him in the face, and said in a dry,
+hard voice, much less slowly than usual&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There's something I wish you to do."</p>
+
+<p>"You wish me to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Write to Miss Walmer definitely breaking
+off your engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"My&mdash;engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"I heard what you said yesterday afternoon.
+I came back from my walk&mdash;there was a nail in
+my boot. I heard every word from the window
+in my room."</p>
+
+<p>"You listened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I listened."</p>
+
+<p>"Romer, my dear fellow, I swear to you
+that ..."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't swear anything to me," said Romer
+quietly. "And don't dare to defend Valentia to
+me.... I advise you not."</p>
+
+<p>Harry was silent, utterly bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"I find that your&mdash;&mdash;friendship, instead of
+being a pleasure to her, is making her miserable.
+For some reason she likes to have you about. She
+doesn't wish you to marry Miss Walmer. Well,
+you shan't! Do you hear that? You shan't!
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>You're not going to marry that girl and then
+come dangling about again."</p>
+
+<p>He waited a minute and then said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Valentia's got to be happy. You're not
+going to have everything <i>you</i> want. You can
+surely make a little sacrifice to be her friend!"
+Then for one moment only Romer nearly lost
+his control. He said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We've been married five years, and I've
+never said a word or done a thing that she
+didn't like. And <i>you</i> made her cry. You! You
+made her cry!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Romer, I assure you it's all ..."</p>
+
+<p>Romer interrupted him in a low voice, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shut up, will you? I want no talk or
+discussion. I want only one thing. You're to
+write immediately, definitely putting an end
+to this engagement. While you write the letter
+I'll wait, and then I'll post it myself. Will you
+do it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear fellow, of course I'll do anything.
+But how strange you are! I should have
+thought&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to know what you would have
+thought, and I don't care a straw what you
+think of my attitude. On condition you do what
+I say, I shall never refer to the subject again,
+and everything shall be as it has been."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>Harry was obviously greatly relieved.</p>
+
+<p>"I will do whatever you wish," he said,
+looking and feeling ashamed of himself.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing that Romer was evidently in a hurry
+for the letter, he drew writing materials to him.</p>
+
+<p>Then Romer said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"One more thing. You are not to tell Valentia
+anything about this. She's not to know I
+overheard. I won't have her distressed. Remember
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"I give you my word of honour," said Harry.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. And when I've posted the letter
+we'll wipe out the whole thing. Don't even say
+you saw me in town."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I won't."</p>
+
+<p>As Harry bent his head low over the writing-table,
+Romer, who was sitting motionless,
+looked at a curious dagger that was hanging on
+the wall, with a horrible sudden longing to
+plunge it in Harry's neck.... Horrified at his
+own fancy, he looked away from it and thought
+of Valentia. Valentia would smile and be happy
+now, and everything would go smoothly again.
+He would not have to say anything painful to
+her; she would never be uncomfortable in his
+presence. In time she would probably grow
+tired of Harry and could turn to him, Romer,
+again, with more affection than if anything
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>painful had passed between them.... His
+attitude had been extraordinarily unselfish,
+and yet it had its root in the deep scheming
+selfishness and subtle calculation of the passion
+of love. To get Valentia back, as he vaguely
+hoped, some time, however distant, he had
+acted most wisely, and he knew it. For he cared
+for her far too much ever to have conventional
+thoughts on the subject. It never even occurred
+to him to try to act as the husband ought to act,
+or as by the incessant insidious influence of
+plays and novels most of us have been brought
+up to think he ought to act. Most people are far
+more guided than they know in their views of
+life by the artificial conventions of the theatre
+and of literature, or by tradition. In fact, most
+people are other people. Romer was himself. He
+thought simply for himself, like a child. And so
+it happened that he acted in a crisis terrible to
+him, more wisely for his own interest than the
+most sophisticated of men....</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"Here is the letter. Will you read it?"</p>
+
+<p>Romer read it and put it back in the envelope.
+Then he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"All right. You're going back to the Green
+Gate this afternoon?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I may."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>"I shall be back to-morrow," said Romer, in
+his ordinary voice.</p>
+
+<p>Harry accompanied him to the door and held
+out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Romer hesitated a moment. Then he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," with a nod, and went away,
+taking no notice of it.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"By Jove!" said Harry, to himself.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LIMIT</h3>
+
+
+<p>Romer went back to his hotel that evening
+feeling happier than he had ever expected
+to be again. He felt sure now that everything
+would be perfectly right. He refused to allow
+himself to dwell for a moment on possibilities,
+and on what had been, or on what might have
+been. But he was like a man who had been
+slightly stunned by a blow on the head and was
+beginning to feel the pain the next day. Yet the
+pain was not very acute; he did not quite realise
+it, but, unconsciously, it made him feverish.
+And he was still a little stupefied. It did not
+occur to him to go to the Club, or to look up any
+friends, and he remained in the little hotel in
+Jermyn Street, filled at this time of the year
+principally by Americans, and he dined alone
+there&mdash;dined well, and smoked a long cigar.
+Then he went for a walk. London at the beginning
+of August was not empty, but stale,
+crowded, untidy, hot&mdash;unlike itself. He tried
+not to think of the garden of the Green Gate.
+Suddenly, with a stab, he imagined Harry and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>Valentia; probably now he was telling her that
+the engagement was broken off, and she was
+smiling and happy. Well! it was what he wished.
+Since what had happened he felt his great love
+for Valentia was much less vivid than it had
+been. He cared for her more remotely. She
+seemed at a great distance. He thought that he
+felt more to her as if she were a dear sister and
+living far away. Yes, that was it; he loved her
+now like a sister.</p>
+
+<p>Surprised at his own calm, and much pleased
+with his behaviour in the matter, he retired to
+bed. The instant he had closed his eyes he
+seemed to see, with the clearness of an hallucination,
+Harry's head bending low over the
+writing-table, and, hanging above him on the
+wall of the studio, the curious dagger; a
+Japanese weapon that was one of Harry's
+treasures. And Romer felt again precisely the
+same horrible longing that he had felt that
+morning at the studio&mdash;the sudden longing to
+plunge it into Harry's neck. Horrified at the
+fancy and at himself, he turned up the light
+and tried to read. He could not fix his attention
+on a word of the article "Silk and Stuff" in the
+<i>Pall Mall</i>....</p>
+
+<p>Of course he was not angry with Valentia;
+how could she help it? She must be made happy.
+But she seemed dim, distant, remote. It was an
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>effort to recall her face.... Harry&mdash;Harry did
+not seem very real to him either. It was all
+unreal. But he, Romer, had done the right thing.
+Harry would never make her cry again.</p>
+
+<p>Everything would go on as before. And <i>he</i>
+had never said a word that it would be painful
+for them both to remember. There was nothing
+uncomfortable between them. He felt she
+would grow tired of Harry of her own accord,
+and would then return to him, Romer, with no
+disagreeable recollection of scenes, nor of their
+having said horrible things to one another.
+Yes, he had been quite right. Yet she did not
+seem to him so near as she used to be. He was
+not angry with her.... No, of course not. He
+was not jealous. Perhaps she seemed more remote,
+more distant, because he felt a certain
+coldness, and&mdash;yes&mdash;the coldness was there
+because he was a little hurt perhaps.... And
+then he tried to go to sleep again. But instantly
+his insane vision came back, and he got up and
+walked round the room and tried to banish
+it.... At last he really went to sleep, and awoke
+trembling with horror. He had had a horrible
+dream. He dreamt that Harry was writing a
+letter, and that he had taken the dagger from
+the wall of the studio and killed him. This was
+simply horrible.</p>
+
+<p>Then he began to realise the reason. It was
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>subconscious jealousy. Then he saw that he had
+set himself a task too big for him, and that he
+could not endure to see Harry with Valentia
+now. It would be impossible to bear it. He
+would have to tell him to go. He had mistaken
+his own feelings. What he had heard on the
+verandah, what he had imagined, could never
+be obliterated. Indeed, he saw clearly that if he
+tried to endure it he would break down. The
+effort would lead to madness.&mdash;It was impossible....
+He had sent Harry back to her! He
+had actually sent him; it was unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>He would go back the next day, take Harry
+aside, and tell him that he had found he
+couldn't bear it, and that on some pretext he
+must go away. He would tell him that he had
+reached the limit of his endurance and could
+bear no more. He would never speak of it to
+Valentia. Valentia would be sad&mdash;but that
+could not be helped. He knew, now, that he
+could not endure the sight of Harry again.</p>
+
+<p>Having made this resolution, he became
+much calmer. But the dream recurred each time
+he went to sleep until, in dread of it, he resolved
+to sleep no more. His nerves felt shattered.</p>
+
+<p>And then, he began to count the minutes till
+he could be back at the Green Gate. To see
+Valentia again and to banish Harry for ever!
+And all the obvious, human feelings that he
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>thought he was free from had come back. He
+broke down; bitter tears of self-pity, of sentiment,
+and of heartbroken humiliation fell from
+his eyes. He remembered their engagement and
+their honeymoon, and then the eternal and
+everlasting amusing cousin; Harry, and his
+sickening good looks and ceaseless chatter. No
+more of it, by heaven! It would be something
+worth having lived for to have no more of the
+brilliant Harry. He saw now that he had always
+been subconsciously jealous of him&mdash;that
+he had always loathed and hated him. And
+rightly, by instinct; for not only had he done
+the most unpardonable injury one friend can
+do to another, without a scruple and without a
+hesitation, but he had shown the same baseness
+to her. He made her unhappy. He made her
+cry. He wanted to marry for money and come
+back again, treacherous to every one&mdash;hard,
+heartless, selfish, vulgar in mind and in attitude
+to life. Romer hated him.</p>
+
+<p>Well! Romer would tell him that very day
+that he had changed his mind and that he was
+to go anywhere&mdash;anyhow&mdash;only to go. Neither
+he nor Valentia should ever see him again.</p>
+
+<p>Valentia seemed a long way off. She seemed
+remote and distant. That was because he was
+still hurt and angry. When Harry had once
+gone, perhaps she would seem near again.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>RECONCILIATION</h3>
+
+
+<p>Romer had made one mistake in his calculations.
+He had forgotten that Harry
+was a talker. He fully believed that the young
+man would go back and get all possible credit
+from Valentia for breaking off the engagement,
+and would adhere to the very letter of their
+strange agreement. This, indeed, Harry fully
+intended to do. When he first went back he
+told her, to her immense joy and satisfaction,
+merely that he had broken it off. But when
+some people who had come to dinner had gone
+away and she and Harry could be alone, the
+habit of confidential gossip, the habit, especially,
+of impressing and surprising her, and, above all,
+the inability to keep to himself anything so
+amazing, was too strong for him.</p>
+
+<p>Picturesquely, vividly, and quite amusingly
+Harry told her every word of the story; first
+exacting a solemn promise not to repeat it.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't he <i>impayable</i>? Isn't he a marvel?
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>No, Valentia, don't look so grave, or I shall
+think you've lost your sense of humour."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you believe he really thinks&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He doesn't think," said Harry, stopping her.
+"He won't think. You're faultless in his eyes. He
+would never allow himself to imagine you anything
+else. Valentia, this is a wonderful situation&mdash;you
+don't appreciate it! It's unheard of! He
+particularly wished that everything should go
+on as before."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand. She immediately took it
+away and drew back coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"A wonderful situation! Do you think Van
+Buren will enjoy it?" she asked satirically.</p>
+
+<p>"Van Buren! What on earth do you mean,
+Val? Do you suppose for a minute that I'd talk
+about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know you will. You couldn't resist it. It's
+<i>impayable</i> you say.... Oh, but it was mean of
+you to tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mean!" cried Harry indignantly. "Why, it
+was very generous! I might easily have pleased
+you very much more by saying I broke it off
+quite of my own accord."</p>
+
+<p>"That wasn't why you told me. You wanted
+me to laugh at Romer and think him ridiculous."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't at all. I was in the ridiculous position.
+Be a woman of the world, Val. Don't talk bosh!
+We shall soon forget it happened."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>"I shall never forget," she answered. "And
+things <i>can't</i> go on as they were, because I think
+he's behaved magnificently, because I think he's
+heroic. And if I didn't appreciate the way he
+spared me I should be.... Why, don't you realise
+what it must have been for him, Harry, to hear
+every word we said? And yet he didn't try to
+make me suffer for it!"</p>
+
+<p>"He complained that <i>I</i> made you cry!" said
+Harry with a ghost of a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, Harry, it's no good. I see I was
+right about Romer from the first. I married him
+because I thought there was something remarkable&mdash;something
+finer than other people about
+him. And I was right."</p>
+
+<p>"If you talk like that, I shall know you're in
+love with him," said Harry tauntingly and
+angrily. "<i>I</i> was a fool to tell you. You're just
+upset, my dear," he added, "at the idea of his
+knowing of the whole thing. By to-morrow,
+when he comes back, everything will have
+calmed down."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to be left alone," said Valentia.</p>
+
+<p>Harry was annoyed, for he himself was not
+just now in the mood for reverie, and even in the
+smallest things he disliked giving up his own
+wishes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," he said ungraciously;
+"perhaps it's a pity I wrote the letter."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>"Perhaps it is," she answered as she went
+away and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>Harry sat up late, swearing at his own
+indiscretion and the unaccountability of women.
+But he was not prepared for what followed.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, as he was dressing, a note
+was given to him. It said&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>
+"Dear Harry,
+</p>
+
+<p>"After what you told me yesterday, I feel
+I never wish to see you again. This is not anger;
+but it's incurable. I can't account for it, but it is
+there. How you could have been so stupid as to
+think I could remain with both you and Romer
+in the house with this knowledge between us, I
+simply can't understand. How could I help contrasting
+his generosity with your self-interested
+selfishness? I am not angry any more about Miss
+Walmer. I'm quite indifferent. If you married
+her to-morrow it would give me no pain. The
+only kind thing you can do for me now, and the
+one thing I implore, is to go away on any pretext
+you like and without seeing me again. To put it
+perfectly plainly, Harry, I have changed entirely
+since last night. I see everything differently.
+Everything <i>is</i> different. Forgive me, but I don't
+wish to see you any more.</p>
+<div class="right">"<span class="smcap">Valentia</span>.</div>
+
+<p>"P.S.&mdash;I will send your photographs and other
+things to the studio. I should like you to burn
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>mine, but do not send them back. I don't want
+to look at anything that reminds me of you. Do
+not be angry&mdash;I can't help it. I am so unhappy.</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+V.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't go I know I shall be seriously ill."</p></div>
+
+<p>After reading this letter Harry was probably
+about a thousand times more in love with
+Valentia than he had ever been in his life.
+Indeed, he felt that he had never cared for her
+before. He pretended even to himself to laugh
+at it, and walked up and down his room, saying
+to himself: "What a couple! What a woman!
+What a man! They're unique. No, they're too
+wonderful!"</p>
+
+<p>But he didn't succeed in deceiving himself. He
+<i>knew</i> that letter was final. He did not give it up
+at once. He wrote her three letters. The first,
+one of indignant reproach: "<i>You never really
+cared for me</i>," and so forth, which she did not
+answer; the second, witty and trivial, with
+allusions to mountains and molehills and tragedy
+queens; the third, desperately imploring her to
+see him once before he went away. To the third
+one she sent a reply, simply saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Please, please go as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>After all his emotion and passionate correspondence
+it was by this time only about half-past
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>ten. Harry packed, dressed, and went off
+to the station, mad with rage. He left no word
+for Romer at all. He felt he had better leave
+all that to the wife. He had lost her absolutely
+and for ever&mdash;and Miss Walmer too.</p>
+
+<p>In prompt response to his wire Van Buren
+met him at the station.</p>
+
+<p>And what a wonderful consolation it was to
+tell him all about it!</p>
+
+<p>Certainly no man ever had a better audience;
+no one more impressed, shocked, delighted,
+horrified, amused, grieved, pleased and sympathetic
+ever listened to a confidence. For Van
+Buren it was as good as a <i>cause c&eacute;l&egrave;bre</i>, a musical
+comedy, a <i>feuilleton</i> in the <i>Daily Mail</i> and a
+series of snapshots from the homes of the upper
+classes&mdash;all in one. Never in his life had he
+heard anything so intensely English. The story
+gave him the acute, objective, artistic joy that
+one takes in the best literature, an intellectual
+pleasure that is usually more or less mingled
+with the merely spiteful satisfaction that we are
+accused of taking in the misfortunes of our best
+friends. And how well Harry told it!</p>
+
+<p>His style was perfect. It was brilliancy, charm,
+humour, and pathos; he laughed at himself, and
+yet made himself an object of real sympathy,
+without losing either his dignity or his dash.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that his confidence aroused enormous
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>interest, and to him that was a great gratification.
+And so Harry drowned his sorrows in talk, as
+other men drown theirs in wine, or in sport, or
+in taking some violent step. He intoxicated and
+soothed himself with conversation.</p>
+
+<p>But Harry was not an unpractical man&mdash;not
+one of those for whom words take place of
+actions&mdash;and he could face facts. Valentia was
+irrevocably lost to him. To attempt to regain
+Miss Walmer, although it might perhaps not be
+impossible, would make him ridiculous. The
+letter he had written at Romer's dictation had
+been too definite. He would give himself away
+hopelessly as a fortune-hunter if he tried to go
+back on that. Besides, he was absolutely sick of it
+all, and if he was more in love with Valentia
+than he had ever supposed himself to be because
+she no longer wanted him, he disliked the
+thought of Miss Walmer far more than he ever
+had before, because he was convinced she would
+forgive him and be devoted to him even now.</p>
+
+<p>Van Buren had taken the knock, as he
+expressed it, using with relish the English slang
+phrase, with regard to Daphne, and he had
+made up his mind to return to New York. Under
+the circumstances he now had little difficulty in
+persuading Harry to come out with him right
+away. He undertook to provide for his friend's
+future, and that he should make a fortune in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>Bank, and perhaps when this was agreed upon
+Van Buren had never been so happy. He was far
+more genuinely a man's man than was Harry.
+He regarded women from the point of view of
+the well-bred American&mdash;with deference, a sort
+of distant tenderness, a most chivalrous and
+gentle respect. He looked upon them as
+ornamental and as delightful adjuncts to life,
+like flowers in a ball-room, but not seriously as
+part of it. Nor, either, as mere toys. He placed
+women far more highly than Harry did; he
+thought everything should be done for them,
+given to them, that they had a right to any
+position they were able to hold, that they should
+be treated with reverence, consideration, liberality ...
+and even justice; but&mdash;he could do
+without them. Harry couldn't. And so they
+would always continue to fall in love with Harry,
+and to find Van Buren a little dull.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>When Romer arrived at the Green Gate that
+afternoon he found Valentia sitting alone in the
+drawing-room. Her hands were clasped, she had
+a serious, anxious, thoughtful expression that he
+had never seen before. He was surprised at the
+painful start it gave him to see her again, but he
+came in defying this sensation.</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo!" he said, in what he meant to be a
+perfectly easy manner.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>He glanced round the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Harry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Harry's gone," said Valentia, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, has he?"</p>
+
+<p>Romer walked to the window. He looked at
+her dress, a white dress that he liked, but did not
+meet her eyes. Then he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's gone. When is he coming back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Romer didn't answer, nor ask why.</p>
+
+<p>After a minute he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Daphne?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gone to stay with Mrs. Foster for a week."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Who's coming down to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody. I thought perhaps you wouldn't
+mind&mdash;being alone, I mean." She spoke without
+her usual fluency.</p>
+
+<p>He stood staring out of the window into the
+quiet, damp garden. Then he turned slowly
+round and looked at her. He looked at her little
+feet in their little white laced shoes; at the slim,
+narrow line of the white dress; at the hands
+clasped in her lap....</p>
+
+<p>And he felt a sudden pang of cruel, realistic
+jealousy. But he looked at her eyes and saw
+tears in them, and, pitying her, he crushed it
+down for ever.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>The marvellous instinct with which women
+are usually credited seems too often to desert
+them on the only occasions when it would be of
+any real use. One would say it was there for
+trivialities only, since in a crisis they are usually
+dense, fatally doing the wrong thing. It is
+hardly too much to say that most domestic
+tragedies are caused by the feminine intuition
+of men and the want of it in women. Fortunately,
+Valentia's feeling of remorseful tenderness towards
+Romer enabled her to read him now.
+Of course she would have loved to cry, to explain
+at great length, to beg him to forgive her and
+have a reconciliation. But something told her
+that he could not have borne it; that the subject
+must never be touched; that she must spare him
+any reference to it&mdash;any scene.</p>
+
+<p>So she said nothing.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And, during the curious silence, he gradually
+and slowly took in the soothing facts. He
+regained his sense of proportion, of perspective.
+He saw she was disillusioned about Harry; he
+felt that the infatuation was over; and, what
+was more, he realised, to his unutterable relief,
+that she was not going to talk about it. How he
+dreaded that terrible explicitness of women,
+their passion for tidying up, their love of labels!
+He would not even have to hear it called a
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>sealed subject, and he would not have to say
+anything at all.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>He looked out of the window again, began to
+whistle in a slightly embarrassed way, and then
+said casually&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Let's come out, Val. The lawn wants
+mowing."</p>
+
+
+<p class="center padding">THE END</p>
+
+
+<hr class="wide" />
+
+
+
+<div  id="tnotes" class="tnote">
+<h2>Transcriber's Notes</h2>
+
+<p>The original spelling and punctuation were retained, except for
+a few issues that were believed to be typographical mistakes. </p>
+
+<p>The full list of corrections is as follows:</p>
+
+<table class="wide bordered" summary="Transcriber's Notes">
+<tr>
+	<th>page</th>
+	<th>original text</th>
+	<th>corrected to</th>
+	<th>explanation</th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_1" href="#Page_15" class="cor">15</a></td>
+	<td>old-fashoned</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_1" class="cor">old-fashioned</a></td>
+	<td>a misspelling</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_2" href="#Page_32" class="cor">32</a></td>
+	<td>,old chap'</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_2" class="cor">'old chap'</a></td>
+	<td>comma corrected to single quote </td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_3" href="#Page_142" class="cor">142</a></td>
+	<td>of colour</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_3" class="cor">off colour</a></td>
+	<td>a misspelling</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_4" href="#Page_144" class="cor">144</a></td>
+	<td>CAPTER</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_4" class="cor">CHAPTER</a></td>
+	<td>a misspelling</td>
+	</tr>
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_5" href="#Page_153" class="cor">153</a></td>
+	<td>darling.</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_5" class="cor">darling.&quot;</a></td>
+	<td>double quote added </td>
+</tr>
+
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_6" href="#Page_181" class="cor">181</a></td>
+	<td>on the 'thou.'"... </td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_6" class="cor">on the 'thou.'...&quot;</a></td>
+	<td>the position of ellipsis was changed </td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_7" href="#Page_201" class="cor">201</a></td>
+	<td>airdresser's</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_7" class="cor">hairdresser's</a></td>
+	<td>a misspelling </td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_8" href="#Page_220" class="cor">220</a></td>
+	<td>"Ha! musical,</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_8" class="cor">&quot;Ha! Musical,</a></td>
+	<td> lowercase to uppercase was corrected</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_9" href="#Page_256" class="cor">256</a></td>
+	<td>Dicken's</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_9" class="cor">Dickens's</a></td>
+	<td>a misspelling</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+	<td><a name="tnote_10" href="#Page_273" class="cor">273</a></td>
+	<td>things to you?'</td>
+	<td><a href="#tAnchor_10" class="cor">things to you?&quot;</a></td>
+	<td>Single quote corrected to double quote.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson
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+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/28465.txt b/28465.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..32f430a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28465.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8294 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Limit
+
+Author: Ada Leverson
+
+Release Date: March 31, 2009 [EBook #28465]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIMIT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ewa Jaros, Suzanne Shell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+
+The original spelling and punctuation were retained,
+except for a few issues that were believed to be
+typographical mistakes. The full list of corrections
+can be found at the end of this document.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+THE LIMIT
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    =THE LIMIT=
+
+        BY
+
+    ADA LEVERSON
+
+      LONDON
+  CHAPMAN & HALL
+
+Originally published 1911 by Grant Richards Ltd.
+Reissued 1950 by arrangement with the Richards Press Ltd.
+
+Printed by Brueder Rosenbaum, Vienna, Austria
+Cat. No. 5085/4
+
+
+
+
+TO ROBERT ROSS
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Chapter                          Page
+
+I       VALENTIA                   11
+
+II      HARRY                      24
+
+III     VAN BUREN                  32
+
+IV      THE ELDER MRS. WYBURN      37
+
+V       ROMER                      43
+
+VI      HARRY'S ENTERTAINMENT      47
+
+VII     DAPHNE                     62
+
+VIII    IN FANCY DRESS             70
+
+IX      A CELEBRITY AT HOME        79
+
+X       MISCHIEF                   87
+
+XI      THE FRIENDS               105
+
+XII     A HOME CHAT               115
+
+XIII    VALENTIA'S VISIT          123
+
+XIV     A SUGGESTION              131
+
+XV      MISS WALMER               137
+
+XVI     MRS. FOSTER               144
+
+XVII    ENGAGED                   156
+
+XVIII   AT THE CARLTON            163
+
+XIX     AT MISS WESTBURY'S        170
+
+XX      A PROPOSAL                177
+
+XXI     HEREFORD VAUGHAN          183
+
+XXII    GILLIE INTERFERES         189
+
+XXIII   THE BALD-FACED STAG       196
+
+XXIV    THE GREEN GATE            203
+
+XXV     A SUNDAY AFTERNOON        211
+
+XXVI    IN THE ROSE GARDEN        223
+
+XXVII   SEEING THE SUN RISE       230
+
+XXVIII  "REPLY PAID"              235
+
+XXIX    GLADYS                    241
+
+XXX     "THE ANGLES"              248
+
+XXXI    AT EDGWARE                256
+
+XXXII   TENSION                   263
+
+XXXIII  GOOD-BYE                  268
+
+XXXIV   ROMER OVERHEARS           274
+
+XXXV    THE LIMIT                 286
+
+XXXVI   RECONCILIATION            291
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+VALENTIA
+
+
+"Romer, are you listening?"
+
+"Valentia, do I ever do anything else?"
+
+"I've almost decided and absolutely made up my mind that it will look
+ever so much better if you don't go with me to Harry's dinner after
+all."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. We two--you _and_ I--always seem to make such an enormous family
+party! Of course, I know we have to go about in these huge batches
+sometimes--to your mother, and that sort of thing, but in this case it
+will look better not."
+
+Valentia made this rather ungracious suggestion, looking so pretty, so
+serious, and yet with such a conciliating smile that it would have been
+almost impossible for even the most touchy person to have been offended.
+
+The tall, significant-looking husband stopped in his stroll across the
+room.
+
+It was a charming room, with pale grey walls and a pale green carpet,
+and very little in it except, let in as a panel, a delicate low-toned
+portrait of the mistress of the house, vaguely appearing through
+vaporous curtains, holding pale flowers, and painted with a rather
+mysterious effect by that talented young amateur, her cousin, Harry de
+Freyne. It had been his sole success in art, and had been exhibited at
+the Grafton Galleries under the name of The Gilded Lily. No one had ever
+known or was ever likely to know whether the title referred to the
+decorative, if botanically impossible, blossom in her hand, or to the
+golden hair of the seductive sitter.
+
+Romer Wyburn paused a moment--he always paused before speaking--and then
+said very slowly--
+
+"Oh! Really? You think it will look better if I don't go with you?"
+
+He invariably spoke with the greatest deliberation, and with no
+expression whatever.
+
+"Oh yes, dear, I'm sure it would," she repeated coaxingly.
+
+"Do you mean if you go without me?"
+
+"What else can I mean?"
+
+"It'll look better, you think; eh? Is that the idea?"
+
+He sat down opposite the portrait, lighted a cigarette, and thought.
+Then he said with ruminating interest--
+
+"I don't see why. Why will it look so much better for me not to go with
+you?"
+
+"Oh, Romer dear, really! It's one of those things that are almost
+impossible to explain. Oh, if you'd only do just what I advise--if you'd
+only _go_ by me, and not want these long tedious explanations, how much
+better it would be! You see, Harry is giving this dinner _on purpose_ so
+that Daphne shall meet Van Buren by accident. You know all about Van
+Buren, _the_ Van Buren--the millionaire, who turns out to be a dear
+creature and quite charming! and has taken the _greatest_ fancy to
+Harry, and clings on to him, and keeps on and on asking him to ask him
+to meet people. You must own it would be rather jolly for Daphne,
+because, of course, you can't _think_ how he's run after--I mean Van
+Buren--and he isn't an ordinary American snob, and it really and truly
+isn't only his millionairishness, but he's a real person, and
+good-looking and nice as well; and though, Heaven knows, I'm as romantic
+as anybody--for myself--I wouldn't be so selfish as to be romantic for
+her too, and I can't help feeling it's our duty, being in the place of
+parents to her, to give the angel a sporting chance! Of course, the
+point is, Van Buren has told Harry he only likes nice English girls very
+well brought up, and he wants to settle down in England, and he thinks
+that any relation of Harry's must be perfect; and, naturally, I'm
+pleased. I feel exactly like a mother to Daphne, although she's only six
+years younger."
+
+"Well, that's all right. I see all that."
+
+Romer seemed rather bored, as men naturally are at a long catalogue of
+another man's advantages. "Now, look here. Why would it look better for
+me not to go?"
+
+There was some excuse for his insistence on this point, for in a
+superficial way Romer was very effective, fair and good-looking,
+well-made and distinguished; but the entire absence of all expression
+from his empty, regular face, and of all animation from his dry,
+colourless voice and manner, soon counteracted the effectiveness.
+Valentia often said that Romer should never do more than walk through a
+room or look in for a few minutes where there were other people--even at
+a club--and then go away immediately, when he would leave a striking
+impression. If he stayed longer he became alarming. His personality was
+so extraordinarily _nil_ that it was quite oppressive. Obviously kind
+and not in the least pompous, yet his silence made him formidable,
+especially to most of his wife's friends who, though they could hardly
+be reproached with want of pluck as a general rule, had one great fear
+in life--the fear of being bored. It was on this ground that they were
+all terrified of Romer.
+
+"Don't you think, Romer, if we both go it will look too marked? Almost
+as if we were vulgarly trying to get Daphne married? A horrid idea!
+Besides, if you don't turn up Harry can ask some one amusing in your
+place. You see, he's promised to show Van Buren _interesting_ people....
+No, darling, I don't mean it in that way. I'm sure you're interesting
+enough, but I mean queer people, and celebrities and things. That's what
+Van Buren wants, and that's what he must have. And that's one reason why
+he's so delighted with Harry, because Harry can get them all, through
+being a sort of artist, you see. What a good thing, after all, that he
+didn't drift into diplomacy! As he's an American you can't expect Van
+Buren to be really modern, and he has all the old-fashioned ideas about
+what _he_ calls culture. He wants to go in for being intellectual and
+artistic and knowing what he calls people with brains who really count.
+I mean he wants to meet people like Seymour Hicks and Waller, and Thomas
+Hardy, and so on, and not only celebrities and people who have made
+their name, but even people with a future, and, in fact, any peculiar,
+well-educated creatures--anything out of the way."
+
+Romer looked rather dazed.
+
+"Really? Then will Hicks or Hardy be asked in my place?"
+
+Valentia laughed. "Don't be so absurdly literal and hopelessly idiotic,
+darling! No, of course not. But I dare say Harry will get--well--perhaps
+Rathbone, the tattooed man, his Oxford friend."
+
+"Really! And will this chap's being tattooed make the party go off
+better?"
+
+"Oh yes, Romer dear; in a sort of way, because it makes him interesting,
+although you can't see it. When he was quite young he was always having
+lifelong passions for people, and being tattooed in their honour. He has
+blue chain bracelets with initials on his left wrist, and a heart and an
+anchor with other initials on his right arm, and a flight of
+swallows--oh, and goodness knows what! In fact, when you come to think
+of it Mr. Rathbone is really a kind of serial story--with illustrations.
+I wonder Lord Northcliffe doesn't bring him out in monthly parts!" She
+laughed again. "Harry might even get Hereford Vaughan, the man who has
+written all the plays that are going on now. Harry knows him quite well,
+and Van Buren would be so pleased."
+
+"Does Daphne want to many this American chap?"
+
+"Good gracious, no! The idea! Why, she doesn't even know him!... Yes, of
+course she does, naturally."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Romer, though he never by any chance smiled at his wife's careless
+irresponsible chatter, nor laughed at her trivial jests, took the
+deepest interest in them, and would listen, as if under a charm, by the
+hour, to subtleties and frivolities that one would never have imagined
+he would enjoy. Sometimes the faint shadow of a smile would illuminate
+his face like a cold ray of wintry moonlight, but that was when she had
+ceased speaking. The smile was the effect of having watched the sparkle
+of her grey eyes, the expression of her pretty mouth, and her brilliant,
+sunshiny grace.
+
+"It's very sweet of Harry," she said thoughtfully, "to do all this for
+me. It's all for me, or rather it's all for Daphne; he's so fond of
+Daphne."
+
+"Really? Why doesn't he marry her himself?"
+
+She looked surprised and blushed slightly.
+
+"Harry? Why, he never marries!"
+
+"He doesn't as a rule, I know," Romer admitted.
+
+"Then, why should he make an exception for Daphne? He's fond of her--of
+us--in fact, devoted--just like a brother. Not that I ever saw a devoted
+brother. Besides, Harry's made to be a bachelor, and he isn't well off
+enough to marry."
+
+"Really? Hard up? Poor chap! Never saw any sign of it."
+
+"Hard up? No; how like you! Of course, he has plenty of money, for
+_him_, but he spends it all, poor boy. Anyhow, of course, he's not
+really rich like Van Buren. It's on a totally different scale--a
+different sort of thing altogether. But, of course, Van Buren may not
+care for Daphne; people have such funny tastes; and not only that, but
+if he adores and worships the ground she treads on I shan't let her
+dream of marrying him unless she absolutely returns it--at least, unless
+she likes him fairly well."
+
+All this seemed to absorb Romer, and after a pause he said--
+
+"I suppose you'll get Daphne a new dress for Harry's beano?"
+
+Valentia smiled pityingly.
+
+"Yes, of course, you would think that. No! Why, that would be _l'enfance
+de l'art_! First of all, Daphne looks ever so much better when she's
+dressed really simply, not the latest fashion; on the very verge of
+dowdiness! It suits her--shows her off. It would be silly to dress her
+up like a doll or make her look _endimanchee_ on Thursday, or arranged
+and got up expensively, on purpose for Van Buren. I wouldn't, for
+instance, for anything, let her wear her new tulle dress from Armand!
+He'd see through it. Besides, I want her to contrast with me as if I'd
+taken any amount of trouble about my own appearance and none about hers.
+It'll make him pity her a little, and think how well she'd look in the
+sort of clothes he could give her. Besides, I myself am not going to be
+very smart--just tidy."
+
+"Paquin?"
+
+"How clever of you to guess! Well, now I must go and see Harry and hear
+all about the dinner, and tell him how sorry you are you can't come. And
+you're going to lunch at the Club, aren't you? And won't you go and dine
+with your mother on that evening?"
+
+"I may as well."
+
+"_Do_, Romer dear! I can't bear you to neglect her, although I never
+think it's safe to let you dine with her without me. She always takes
+advantage of my absence to be horrid about me, and then you _will_
+defend me, although I've implored you not to heaps of times, and then
+you quarrel. If, this time, she says I'm frivolous and worldly and an
+utter fool and very deep, you must agree with every word. I'm so fond
+of her, she's such a dear thing, it's too bad to worry her by
+contradicting her, and she has such a vile temper! Telephone and invite
+yourself--a pressing invitation, and give her my very best love."
+
+Romer promised all she asked and then went out to the Club.
+
+Valentia watched him through the window as he went. She thought he
+looked very well through a window, and ought by rights always to be seen
+in that way--as it were, under glass. She felt quite proud of him, of
+his smart appearance. In his way, he was an elaborate dandy, and spent
+years at his tailor's, slowly choosing the right thing. She remembered
+she had married him chiefly because of his fine presence and mysterious
+silence. She had thought at the time there must be so much at the back
+of it all, so much in him. He was in love with her and seemed difficult
+to understand. What could be more attractive? And now--well, he was
+ideally kind and good-natured. And she certainly felt sometimes that she
+couldn't even yet quite make him out. Then she gave a slight sigh, went
+to the door and called Daphne.
+
+Daphne came in, trimming a hat. She had lived with the Wyburns ever
+since their marriage five years ago, and Valentia, having no children
+and a most passionately tender disposition--far too much natural
+affection to expend on Romer alone--lavished devotion on her sister. And
+Daphne was so nice and so pretty, almost as pretty as herself, in a
+satisfactorily different way. Valentia with her short straight features,
+grey eyes under dark brows, low forehead almost hidden by wavy fair
+hair, and a mouth curved and curled into subtle and complicated lines,
+was the type loved by Rossetti and Burne-Jones. She had a wonderful fair
+complexion, against which her long eyelashes showed, when she looked
+down, dark and effective, and though she was rather tall, slim and very
+modishly dressed, she never looked like a fashion-plate and had no air
+of being a mere mannequin for clothes, but seemed essentially real, with
+a suggestion in her personality of a beauty at once pagan and
+spiritual--the pagan predominating. Her pictorial appearance had no
+doubt made easier the artist's task, and the pale exquisite portrait had
+truly been described as a whispering likeness.
+
+Daphne, who was not quite eighteen, was a good deal taller, and more
+slender. She had dark brown eyes, smooth dark hair, parted in the
+middle, a rather bright colour and features of the classic type. Her
+chin was rather long, and she had a brilliant, sudden smile, and all
+the attractive freshness and slight abruptness of her age, with an
+occasionally subdued air, caused by the shadow that had fallen on their
+youth by the death of their beautiful mother. Her gentle grace and touch
+of premeditated _naivete_ made her charming. Beyond question she would
+be a great success.
+
+"Romer can't go on Thursday," Valentia said, taking the needle and hat
+out of her sister's hand and beginning to sew. "I must go and see Harry
+and tell him to get some one else. Really, Daphne, you go too far! It's
+all very well to be clever with your needle, but you needn't tear a
+Lewis hat to pieces and turn it inside out without asking my advice."
+
+"Oh, I wasn't! I was only squashing in the brim and trying to make the
+hat smaller. It seems to have got larger since I put it away."
+
+"Don't be perfectly absurd, darling. It's because you've been seeing
+smaller hats lately."
+
+"Oh yes, I see. Who's going instead of Romer?"
+
+"How should I know? We'll see."
+
+"It's just as you like, darling," said Daphne in her level voice; "but
+in case the American hates me, and I hate him, and Harry's talking to
+you all the time, and I'm frightened of the celebrities, isn't anything
+going to be done for me?"
+
+"Of course not. What do you want? That Foster boy again? Don't look down
+and blush, it makes me sick. All right, perhaps, if there's room. He's a
+nice, decorative boy, but remember they don't dance at dinner, and
+that's the only thing he can do."
+
+"Indeed it isn't!" cried Daphne.
+
+"I'm very sorry to hear it. Suppose Foster's engaged, or at Aldershot?"
+
+"He won't be. It's too sweet of Romer not going. Did you marry him
+because you knew he would do whatever you told him?"
+
+"I don't think it was that so much," said Valentia, thoughtfully, trying
+on the hat in front of the glass. "I thought he was a strong silent man,
+a man with an orange up his sleeve, as it were. But I've never seen the
+orange."
+
+"How funny of you! I should hate a mysterious person. You don't want
+your husband to be a kind of conjurer."
+
+"Yes, I do, as long as he doesn't wear a conjurer's evening dress. I
+like being surprised. Now let's go and surprise Harry at his studio; we
+must be quick, he's expecting us."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HARRY
+
+
+Harry de Freyne stood in his usual position, smoking a cigarette, and
+leaning a little forward, with his back to the mirror as if to resist
+the temptation of looking into it. The family good looks were acutely
+accentuated in this young man. He had the smooth, glossy dark hair,
+white teeth, and speaking dark grey eyes that women like; clearly-cut
+features, and the rather prominent chin, generally and mistakenly
+supposed to show strength of character. His pleasant, clean-shaven,
+slightly sunburnt face bore an expression of animation with a certain
+humorous anxiety natural in a man who was generally a good deal in debt
+and always a little in love. Further he had the advantage of a tall,
+strong yet supple figure, with a natural grace of movement and much
+personal charm. Harry knew he was good-looking and did not undervalue
+the fact, but regarded it solely as an asset, not as a private
+satisfaction. He regarded everything as an asset. He was no fop,
+although he wore a single eye-glass rather as a concession to some ideal
+of dandyism than as a help to clear vision. He could see remarkably
+well, with or without it.
+
+The long Empire mirror was placed above a delightful early English large
+open fireplace, in which burnt a Parisian-looking wood fire. Harry was
+the possessor of a fine--indeed, a magnificent studio, full of good old
+things, chiefly other people's, and bad new things, principally his own.
+The theory that all bad art is the result of sincere feeling was
+certainly not exemplified in his case. The portrait of his cousin that
+had been regarded as so full of promise was, as he always, said, the
+only decent piece of work he had ever done. He had been educated for
+diplomacy, and learnt eight languages, some of which he spoke fluently,
+and in all of which he could look with expression.
+
+The room was no mere exhibition of bric-a-brac, but was a cosy, shadowy,
+miscellaneous place, not without an ecclesiastical touch here and there.
+One felt every subject could be gone into there, from stockbroking to
+love, and that everything could be done there, whether it was praying,
+eating, singing, or flirting--everything except perhaps painting.
+
+When the servant announced Mrs. Wyburn and Miss de Freyne one might have
+fancied Harry looked slightly disappointed, but he greeted the pretty
+creatures with suitable effusion and high spirits.
+
+They both sat down rather carefully in the corner seats by the fire.
+
+"Romer can't come, he's dining with his mother," announced Valentia. "He
+ought to, you know, now and then."
+
+"I don't like her," said Daphne, "she abuses every one."
+
+"I know she does, but she's really not so bad, dear, all the same; there
+are many worse. She's rather spiteful, but warmhearted--awfully kind if
+you break your leg," said Valentia.
+
+"But you don't break your leg," said Harry.
+
+"Oh, sometimes you do. At any rate you might. Don't encourage Daphne to
+argue, Harry. Who did you say you'd ask instead if we couldn't get
+Romer?"
+
+"Rathbone's just written to accept in his place," said Harry, taking out
+a letter. "But--don't you think we could persuade Romer if we tried
+hard? However, you know best."
+
+He took out a list. "Hereford Vaughan, Van Buren, Rathbone and
+me--that's four; you two, Lady Walmer, and Miss Luscombe, the actress. I
+think that'll do."
+
+"Lady Walmer?" repeated Valentia. "Why?"
+
+"And a real actress!" murmured Daphne.
+
+"Not a real actress. She's walked on at all the principal theatres in
+London, and somebody's always going to take a theatre for her, but
+there's no danger. I told Van Buren that on the stage they think she's
+in society, and in society they believe she's on the stage. And he
+thinks it's real cute, and an extraordinary English type."
+
+"How are you getting on with him?"
+
+"Beautifully,--if he weren't so beastly intelligent and inquisitive. He
+always wants to know all the news and all the latest gossip. What do you
+think he asked me last night? Why Big Ben was called Big Ben! How on
+earth should I know!"
+
+"Big who?"
+
+"Not big anybody;--the place, the thing;--the clock. He said no doubt I
+must think him dreadfully ignorant for not knowing, but he felt he must
+ask."
+
+Smiling at the recollection, Harry lighted another cigarette.
+
+"What did you say?" Daphne asked.
+
+"If it had been the afternoon I think I'd have taken the risk and told
+him I didn't know, but as it was the evening--he always gets rather
+excited in the evening after dinner and so much Perrier water,--walking
+back to the Ritz in the moonlight, and talking about London, I invented
+a long story.--No, he won't repeat it, don't be frightened; it was
+really rather awful; and when Van Buren gives you his word of honour not
+to tell a thing ..."
+
+"You're all right! That must be a great help," said Valentia
+sympathetically.
+
+"It shows he has a nice loyal nature," Daphne remarked. "I admire that
+sort of thing very much."
+
+"A nice loyal nature! I should think he has! He hates spreading scandal,
+and he wouldn't say a single word now to take away the character of Big
+Ben--if it was----"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Oh, if it was ever so! You ought to make Daphne wear one of those thin
+tulle veils to match her hat. They're jolly--you can get them at that
+shop close to me."
+
+"Oh, she needn't, she's going to be manicured, and she's coming back
+here for me in a quarter of an hour."
+
+"Good-bye, darling," said Daphne, standing up, and she made a kind of
+face, which Valentia understood to mean the word Foster.
+
+"What is the child playing at?" said Harry. "If you two have a code it
+would be as well to learn it."
+
+"All right," said Valentia to Daphne.
+
+Harry walked with her to the door and she ran out, saying, "I won't be
+long."
+
+"She wants Foster, the baby Guardsman," explained Valentia.
+
+"Oh, why didn't you say so at first? Of course I suppose they've
+arranged it. At any rate it's as good as done. Then there must be one
+more woman. But never mind now."
+
+Harry sat down beside her and said, in a different voice--he had a very
+good voice, especially when he spoke caressingly--
+
+"How interesting you are! One of your eyebrows is a little thicker than
+the other."
+
+"Oh, Harry!..."
+
+"How are we all going to get home that evening?"
+
+"What do you think?" she asked.
+
+"Well, it's like this, as you may say. We'll all meet at the Ritz and
+dine there. Good. Then we drive in separate vehicles to here, and have
+some music. Then I see you both home, and--well, I think that's all.
+It's not much."
+
+"I don't quite like the way Lady Walmer looks at you, Harry."
+
+"Oh, Valentia! If it comes to that, how do you fondly imagine I shall
+like the way Rathbone is sure to look at you?"
+
+"Oh, Harry! Why, he's tattooed!"
+
+"You see," went on Harry seriously, "I really am making a dash for it
+about Daphne. She'll really be happy with Van Buren, and _I_ shall be
+ever so much happier,--with Van Buren and everyone else,--because,
+through Daphne being always with you, I never see you alone for one
+single second."
+
+"Oh, you exaggerate, Harry!"
+
+"I know I do. I don't see you for half a second."
+
+"Romer has been so nice lately," she answered gently.
+
+"Very amusing, I suppose?"
+
+"But--I often think how very nice he really is."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, even in fun. I'm coming to stay with you in the
+summer--at the Green Gate--unless you'd rather ask Rathbone instead."
+
+"Or unless you'd rather go yachting with the Walmers," she remarked.
+"They have a daughter, haven't they?"
+
+"Oh, Valentia, be anything but blasphemous!..."
+
+"Really?... Oh, Harry!"
+
+"Do you mean to say you need my saying it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then, I will. Valentia, I--"
+
+She got up and opened the door so that Daphne should not have to ring
+when she returned.
+
+When the two sisters left a few minutes later, Harry sat down again as
+if in deep thought and lighted a cigarette. His servant came in.
+
+"Please, sir, Mr. Van Buren is at the telephone."
+
+"Oh well, tell him ... Oh no--, all right--I'll go."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+VAN BUREN
+
+
+"It's extremely kind of you, Harry, to let me come around like this in
+the morning. I dare say you want to be working sometimes. I'm really
+afraid of being in the way, but I was rather at a loose end this morning
+and I wanted to have a talk with you," said Van Buren apologetically.
+
+"Rot. Awfully glad to see you, old chap. Have a cigarette?"
+
+"Thanks, Harry, no. I find I'm very much better if I don't smoke till
+after tea.... We're intimate friends now, and yet you never call me
+anything but my surname, or 'old chap'. That reminds me, there's a
+little request I'd like to make of you, Harry."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Call me Matthew--no, call me plain Mat. It would give me real
+pleasure."
+
+Harry smiled rather loudly--
+
+"My dear fellow, I couldn't call you plain Mat. It wouldn't be
+suitable! You're too good-looking!"
+
+Van Buren smiled and shook his head. In its way it was a handsome head
+in the fair, clean-shaven American style, with shining blond hair. He
+had very broad shoulders, and a very thin waist, and that naive
+worldliness of air so captivating in many of his countrymen.
+
+Except that he wore a buttonhole of Parma violets, he was dressed in
+every particular exactly like Harry. But no one would have believed
+it--he looked so much better dressed.
+
+"That's your chaff, Harry. I'm not a Gibson man, and I don't pretend to
+be."
+
+He looked at his hands, which were small and white, the finger-tips
+brilliantly polished, and said meditatively--
+
+"I'm very much looking forward to meeting your cousin, Harry. I expect
+she's the ideal of a young English lady. Dark, did you say?"
+
+"Rather dark, and very pretty."
+
+"It's a curious thing, Harry, that to me a broonette has always more
+fascination than a blonde. It seems--I may be wrong--as though there's
+more piquancy, more character."
+
+"I quite agree with you," said Harry. "Now the sister--the married
+one--is very fair."
+
+"And she's quite what you call a professional beauty, isn't she?" asked
+Van Buren with great relish.
+
+"My dear fellow, I don't call anyone a professional beauty, and you
+mustn't either. There's no such thing. I can't think how in America you
+get hold of these prehistoric phrases! The expression must have been
+dead long before either of us was born!... Still, she is a beauty all
+the same."
+
+"Is that so? Mind you, Harry, there's something very attractive about a
+blonde, too. To me golden hair and blue eyes suggest gentleness and
+womanliness.... What is Mrs. Wyburn like?"
+
+"Well, she's rather like an angel on a Christmas card, with her hair
+down--I mean she was, as a little girl," said Harry quickly. "Now she's
+considered like 'Love among the Roses' by Burne-Jones."
+
+"Do you really mean that, Harry? Why, she must be more beautiful than
+Miss de Freyne!"
+
+"I wouldn't worry about her, if I were you," Harry said.
+
+"Why not, Harry?"
+
+"Well, you see she's got a husband," said Harry, looking at the ceiling
+as he puffed his cigarette.
+
+"And a cousin," replied Van Buren with unexpected quickness. He then
+burst out laughing.
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Harry, not laughing.
+
+"Harry, I do beg of you to forgive my indiscretion. I'm afraid you'll
+think it shows great want of delicacy on my part. It was only meant for
+English chaff. Don't be angry, Harry." Van Buren was quite distressed.
+
+"That's all right, old chap."
+
+"You see, I know you painted her portrait, and if you _had_ felt a
+little sentiment for her, who could blame you? Of course, I'm well aware
+that you're far too much a man of high principle to come any way between
+a woman and her husband, or even to let her know if you had a fancy in
+that direction.... I thoroughly do you justice there, Harry."
+
+"I regard them as sisters," answered Harry.
+
+Van Buren went to the window and stood looking out for a few minutes.
+
+"Well, they are sisters.... What a wonderful place your London is!" he
+said. "Now there's the sort of thing I never can understand, which has
+just happened. A lady called a taxicab. Just as it came up a man--at
+least I suppose he calls himself a man--opened the door. I thought he
+meant to help her in. No! He got in himself and drove away.--Now, Harry,
+how do you account for that?"
+
+"I suppose he could walk quicker," said Harry.
+
+"It's the one fault I have to find with you Englishmen, Harry--the
+single fault. You're not gallant enough to the ladies. Nor is there, in
+my opinion, quite enough respect shown to them. I am always astonished,
+I admit, that they don't resent it. Why, in New York----."
+
+"My dear fellow, they complain bitterly that there's too much respect
+shown to them already," said Harry. "A little more, and they'd do
+without us altogether!"
+
+Van Buren laughed cheerily, and clapped Harry on the shoulder.
+
+"What a fellow you are for chaff! Now, will you come around and have
+lunch with me?"
+
+"When? Now? Thanks, old chap."
+
+"That's real good, Harry," said Van Buren, his eyes sparkling with joy,
+"and we'll walk down Piccadilly together. I must say ..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I shan't feel we're real pals till you call me Mat!"
+
+Harry shivered ostentatiously.
+
+They went out, both laughing with great cordiality.
+
+At the corner Van Buren stopped to throw away his buttonhole. He saw
+they were not being worn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE ELDER MRS. WYBURN
+
+
+Romer's mother usually received him with a sarcastic remark, such as
+"Oh, so you remember that I'm not dead yet?" or "I wonder you find time
+to come at all," or something of the same nature, calculated to cast a
+gloom over any visit.
+
+The widow of a rich brewer, Mrs. Wyburn lived in a bad-tempered looking
+old house in Curzon Street, with a harassed footman, a domineering maid,
+a cross cook, and other servants that were continually changing. She was
+one of those excellent housekeepers who spend most of their time "giving
+notice" and "taking up" characters. She nearly always wore a
+hard-looking black silk dress. She had parted black hair, long earrings,
+and a knot of rare old imitation lace at her throat. Eagerness,
+impatience, love of teasing and sharp wit were visible in her face to
+one who could read between the lines. But, notwithstanding this, as she
+had a soft heart and plenty of hard cash, she was not altogether
+unpopular. People enjoyed going to hear the nasty things she said about
+their friends. She had a real _succes de scandale_ on her Wednesdays,
+notwithstanding the fact that a more highly respectable lady had never
+existed in the world.
+
+She adored Romer, although his slow speech and long pauses often drove
+her to the very verge of violence.
+
+"Thought I'd look in," he remarked, rather heavily taking a seat in the
+dark drawing-room, and he proceeded by slow stages to tell her that he
+was coming to dinner on Thursday because Valentia was going out.
+
+She gave him a quick look, combined of motherly pride and annoyance.
+
+"Delighted, of course, dear. Who did you say was Valentia's hostess?"
+
+"She's going with Daphne. Harry's dinner. At some restaurant."
+
+"Oh, indeed!... Well, if you approve of these Bohemian arrangements it's
+not _my_ business. I have my own opinion of Harry de Freyne; I always
+have had--and I shall keep it."
+
+"Do," said Romer, unconsciously epigrammatic.
+
+She waited a minute and then said--
+
+"I don't wish to worry you, my dear ..."
+
+"No?"
+
+"... But I, personally, if I were a man ... perhaps I oughtn't to say
+it--if I saw my wife so much in the society of a person like Harry de
+Freyne--upon my word, I should begin to ask myself what were their
+relations!"
+
+"Cousins," said Romer.
+
+He began to tap his foot slowly against the rail of the chair, but
+remembered Valentia's constant advice, and decided he would not quarrel.
+
+"Well, you know your affairs best, dear. I'm only an interfering
+disagreeable old woman, who knows very little of modern customs and
+ways."
+
+He nodded sympathetically, without answering.
+
+"I love and admire Valentia--in many ways. She's so pretty, but not a
+mere doll! And we women--even the happiest of us--have to go through so
+much! Does she go through the housekeeping books herself, dear?" Mrs.
+Wyburn inquired, with dangerous sweetness.
+
+"Shouldn't think so."
+
+"Ah! that seems rather a pity. Still, I'm just to every one, and I will
+say that she's not extravagant--but has so much cleverness that she
+could manage very well on half the allowance you give her!"
+
+"Is that new--that china bird?" Romer asked, getting up to look at a
+strange, shiny, abnormal-looking parrot on a twig that adorned the
+mantelpiece.
+
+"Do you like it?" she asked.
+
+"It seems all right. Rather jolly."
+
+"Oh! Well, it's funny you haven't noticed it before. Considering it's
+been there all your life, and you used to play with it when you were
+four, it's odd it's escaped your notice. You played with it when you
+were four!" she repeated, growing rather heated.
+
+"Did I though?"
+
+"But things do escape your notice--that's just the point. I sometimes
+wish I didn't see so much myself."
+
+"So do I," he answered. "May I smoke, mother?"
+
+"Of course you may, dear. You may do anything on earth you like. Have
+some tea? _I_ never have anything but China tea, so it won't do you any
+harm."
+
+"I hate China tea," he answered reflectively, after what seemed to his
+mother about half an hour's deep thought.
+
+... "But what I always have said about Valentia is that though we all
+admit, dear, that she has charming manners, is bright and amusing and
+very sweet----"
+
+He smiled.
+
+"_Outwardly_, is there anything behind it all? Has she any depth?" She
+quickly answered her own question, "_I_ think she has; a great deal. I
+believe Valentia is extremely clever in her own way; she turns _you_
+round her little finger. But that wouldn't matter so much--anything's
+better than quarrelling and snapping and finding fault
+continually--which is a thing I hate. But, really, there's one point I'm
+quite anxious about--in fact, I often lie awake the whole night--the
+entire night--and wake up in the morning utterly worn out through
+thinking about it, Romer dear. There's nothing like a mother's
+heart--and this does make me anxious, I own."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Why, that she should ever be talked about! That she should be
+considered a flirt--and that sort of thing! I couldn't bear the idea of
+my son's wife having her name coupled with that of any young man--or any
+nonsense of that sort. It would be most painful to me. I'm sure I ask
+every one who knows her if anything of that kind is ever said."
+
+Romer threw away the cigarette and stood up.
+
+"What infernal rot!" he said, with a heightened colour.
+
+Her eyes brightened with pleasure. She was delighted to have irritated
+him at last out of his calmness.
+
+"Well, well, perhaps I'm a little over-anxious. It's all love, all
+devotion to you, dear. Of course, people do talk. There's no doubt about
+that; but good gracious! we all know there's nothing in it. Don't we?
+Don't be cross with your poor old mother, Romer."
+
+"That's all right. I must be off. Eight on Thursday, eh?"
+
+She kissed him affectionately, walked with him to the landing, where she
+kept him for about ten minutes complaining of the awful worry she had
+had about the under-housemaid, and of the sickening impossibility of
+getting a piano-tuner to attend to the instrument properly without
+making any sound.
+
+"For I'm a mass of nerves, my dear. Give my best love to dear
+Valentia."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ROMER
+
+
+Romer walked back, trying to throw off the irritating effect of his
+mother's pin-pricks. As was his usual custom when he was a little
+depressed, he went home and sat down in front of his wife's portrait. He
+often sat there for an hour when she was out, looking at it. Any one
+watching him would have thought he was in a state of calm and stupid
+content. In reality, he was worshipping. His passion for his wife was
+his one romance, his one interest, his one thought. He had been married
+five years, and had never yet expressed it in words. He was one of the
+unfortunate people who are not gifted with the power of expression,
+either in word or look. He was practically inarticulate.
+
+As he gazed at the picture--he was feeling a little sad--the sadness
+melted away. The frail figure, bright yet dim, vaguely appearing through
+vaporous curtains, holding an impossible gold flower, had the effect on
+him of a beautiful Madonna on a deeply devout Catholic. It produced in
+him a form of religious ecstasy. He adored her with passion, and with
+the selfishness and jealousy of passion, but circumstances and his
+temperament caused it to take the outward form, principally, of care for
+her happiness. When she was actually present, she still dazzled him so
+much that he could show his feeling only by listening to and agreeing
+with every word she said, by doing what she asked him, and by trying to
+protect her, often without her knowledge, from any kind of pain or
+trouble. She would have been amazed had she realised the violence of his
+devotion to her. Apparently cool and matter-of-fact, he was in reality a
+reticent fanatic. He neither analysed nor showed his sentiment, nor did
+he himself know its extent. He wondered why certain people, certain
+subjects gave him pain. He trusted Valentia absolutely, nor could she in
+his eyes do wrong, and it was only with the subconscious second sight of
+love that he sometimes felt a curious and melancholy presentiment. He
+did not know himself that this suffering was jealousy.
+
+What nonsense his mother talked!...
+
+Harry!... Harry was the best fellow in the world--almost like a brother,
+his greatest friend, though not exactly an intimate friend. Romer was
+too shy to be intimate with any one. Harry was lively, amusing, a
+brilliant talker; kind, good-natured, a capital chap. He appreciated
+Valentia, or he could not have painted that portrait. Romer was very
+grateful for the portrait; yet it sometimes hurt him to think Harry had
+painted it. It showed how well Harry understood Valentia.
+
+This thought Romer always suppressed. He thought it was mean, and he
+could not be mean.
+
+He looked out of the window. It was raining--a chilly spring shower--but
+there was a stir in the air, a rattle in the town, a sense of something
+that was going to happen; summer was not far off, and in the summer, at
+the end of the season, they would go down to the Green Gate, the lovely
+country house with the dream garden as Valentia called it, all built,
+planted, and arranged on purpose for her. Valentia was more herself at
+the Green Gate than anywhere else. Leisure suited her, and roses.
+
+Every year Romer silently counted the weeks until they went back there.
+It was where he was happiest. Of course, they were not alone. Dear
+little Daphne was always with them, dear little thing (she was nearly
+six feet high)--and other people, very often, and Harry--always Harry.
+Perhaps Daphne would marry soon, but what about Harry?
+
+Romer felt rather wearied when he remembered Valentia had said Harry
+was made to be a bachelor. Was he tired of Harry? Not a bit! Harry was a
+capital chap; besides, he didn't see so very much of him in London.
+
+Heaps of people admired Valentia, and that did not annoy Romer at all
+(though it did not please him particularly), but he knew, again
+subconsciously, that Valentia cared less than nothing for any admirers,
+but she certainly was awfully fond of Harry. And no wonder! Harry was
+the best fellow in the world--lively, amusing, quite a brilliant talker;
+kind, good natured, and he appreciated Valentia, or he could not have
+painted that portrait....
+
+Round and round the same thoughts passed through his brain.
+
+It was raining--a chilly spring shower. Had Valentia got her wrap with
+her?
+
+He got up, went into the hall, and saw her fur cloak hanging on a peg.
+
+She evidently didn't care for it. She was tired of it--perhaps it was
+out of fashion; if so, she would never wear it. She might catch cold.
+
+He was not a prompt man, but he went at once to the telephone and gave
+orders to a shop in Bond Street that would result in a collection of
+fur-lined cloaks being sent for her choice that evening. This would
+please her; she would smile and try them on. Besides, it would prevent
+her catching cold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HARRY'S ENTERTAINMENT
+
+
+Van Buren, who was a business man, was an idealist; while Harry de
+Freyne, the artist--was, emphatically, not.
+
+Van Buren had been brought up on Thackeray and Dickens, above all on old
+pictures from _Punch_; Du Maurier's drawings enjoyed at an early age had
+made him romantic about everything connected with London. As soon as he
+was able to leave his bank in New York--in fact, the moment he had
+retired from business--he had realised his dream and come to live in
+London. And Harry seemed to him the incarnation of everything
+delightfully, amusingly English. He had a real hero-worship for Harry,
+who was so astonishingly clever as well. Van Buren was not a snobbish
+Anglomaniac, at least his snobbishness was not of the common quality nor
+about the obvious things; he was a little ashamed of his money, but he
+did not worship rank and titles; it was Intellect--but Intellect that
+had the stamp of fashion--that held a glamour for him. So did everything
+that he supposed to be modern, previous, and up-to-date. No one could
+ever, whether in New York or in London, have been in life less modern
+than poor Van Buren, though he was eminently contemporary and perhaps
+even in advance in matters connected with business. For business he had
+genius, and yet, curiously, no passion; he was unconsciously brilliant
+on the subject; it was hereditary. But in his innermost heart he
+believed that it was vulgar to be an American millionaire! And he had a
+childish horror of vulgarity, and an innocent belief that an Englishman
+who had been to Eton and Oxford and who was _dans le mouvement_, smart
+and good-looking, and had deserted diplomacy for art, must of necessity
+be refined, superior, cultured, everything that Van Buren wanted to be.
+
+Of course he soon found out that Harry was frightfully hard up, and in
+the most delicate manner imaginable--a delicacy rather wasted on his
+friend--implored, as a special favour, to be allowed to be his banker.
+But Harry had refused, having vague ideas of much more important extent
+than a mere loan with regard to making Van Buren useful. He had thus
+gone up in his friend's estimation, at the same time placing him under
+a great and deeply felt obligation by gratifying his fancy for knowing
+clever people and celebrities.
+
+At last the friendship had culminated in Harry's suggestion of a
+marriage between his young cousin, Daphne, and Van Buren. Harry felt
+that if he could compass this arrangement he would at one stroke give
+fortune to Daphne, freedom to himself--the child was very much in his
+way in Valentia's house--and make Van Buren eternally grateful.
+
+Harry really liked Van Buren and respected him; he regarded him as
+touching, but also, at times, as a menace. A shadow sometimes came over
+their friendship, the alarming shadow of the future bore. What was now
+to his cynical mind screamingly funny about the American--his sensitive
+delicate feelings, his high standard of morals with regard to what he
+called the ladies, and illusions that one would rarely find in London in
+a girl of seventeen, might some day develop into priggishness and
+tediousness, and--especially--would take up too much time. For since
+Harry had been intimate with Van Buren he had discovered that the
+tradition of American hustling was, like most traditions, a fiction.
+Americans always have time; Englishmen never. The leisurely way in which
+Van Buren talked was an example of this--it was the way he thought; his
+brain worked slowly. Harry and his like have no time to drawl; they have
+to keep appointments.
+
+On the evening of the Ritz dinner-party Harry was not in a particularly
+good temper, and thought to himself he was rather like a Barnum as he
+introduced his guests one by one to the modest millionaire, who said to
+them all, "Pleased to meet you", and fixed his admiring glance with a
+sentimental respect on Daphne, an undisguised admiration on Valentia,
+and an almost morbid curiosity on Miss Luscombe, the first actress he
+had ever met.
+
+Miss Luscombe was a conventional, rather untidy-looking creature, very
+handsome, with loose hair parted and waved over her ears, and with
+apparently no design or general idea either in her dress or manner. She
+varied from minute to minute from being what she thought theatrical to
+appearing what she supposed to be social. She evidently hadn't settled
+on her pose, always a disastrous moment for a natural woman who wishes
+to be artificial. Practically she always wore evening dress except in
+the evening, so while at her own flat in the afternoon she was
+photographed in a _decolletee_ tea-gown, this evening she was dressed as
+if for Ascot, except for the hat, with an emaciated feather boa and a
+tired embroidered _crepe de Chine_ scarf thrown over her shoulders,
+also a fan, long gloves, and a rose in her hair by way of hedging. To
+these ornaments she added a cold, of which she complained as soon as she
+saw the other guests. But no one listened. No one ever listened to Miss
+Luscombe, no one ever could, and yet in a way she was popular--a kind of
+pet among a rather large circle of people. Women never disliked her
+because she created no jealousy and always unconsciously put herself at
+a disadvantage; men did not mind her prattle and coquettish airs, being
+well aware that nothing was expected of them. For Miss Luscombe, though
+vain, was a pessimist, and quite good-natured. She was also a standing
+joke.
+
+The other guests besides Valentia in yellow and Daphne in pink--both
+looking as fresh as daisies and as civilised as orchids--consisted of
+Lady Walmer, a smart, good-looking, commonplace woman, rather fatter
+than she wished to be, but very straight-fronted, straightforward, and
+sporting, with dark red hair and splendid jewels; a faded yet powerful
+beauty who had been admired in the eighties, but had only had real
+success since she turned forty-six.
+
+With her was her daughter, a girl who at the first glance looked eight
+feet high, but who really was not very much above the average length.
+She was a splendid athlete, and her talk was principally of hockey. She
+wore a very smart white dress and had a dark brown neck, pretty fair
+hair, and an entirely unaffected bonhomie that quite carried off the
+harshness of her want of style or charm--in fact it had a charm of its
+own. Besides, it was well known that her grandmother had left her an
+estate in the country and L 7000 a year, and that Lady Walmer was
+anxious to get her married. Hence Miss Walmer never wanted for partners
+at balls nor for attention anywhere, but--it was always for _le bon
+motif_. As Valentia said, she was the sort of girl (poor girl!) that one
+could only marry.
+
+Hereford Vaughan, who was an object of considerable curiosity to several
+of the guests on account of his phenomenal success in having eleven
+plays at the same time being performed in London, New York, Berlin,
+Paris, and every other European city, was, to those who did not know him
+before, an agreeable surprise. Heaven knows what exactly people expected
+of him; perhaps the men feared 'side' and the women that he would be
+overpowering after so many triumphs, but he was merely a rather pale,
+dark, and rather handsome young man. He behaved like anybody else,
+except that perhaps his manner was a little quieter than the average.
+Unless one was very observant (which one isn't), or unless one listened
+to what he said, he did not at first appear too alarmingly clever. He
+had one or two characteristics which must have at times led to
+misunderstandings. One was that whatever or whoever he looked at, his
+dark opaque eyes were so full of vivid expression that women often
+mistook for admiration what was often merely observation. For instance,
+when he glanced at Lady Walmer she at once became quite confused, and
+intensely flattered, nearly blushed and asked him to dinner. While, if
+she had but known, behind that dark glance was merely the thought, "So
+that's the woman that Royalty ... What extraordinary taste!"
+
+Hereford Vaughan, who was himself thirty-four, did not share in the
+modern taste for the battered as a charm in itself, though he could
+forgive it--or, indeed, anything else--if he were amused.
+
+Knowing that Miss Luscombe, hoping for a part, would be painfully nice
+to Vaughan, Harry had good-naturedly placed them as far apart as
+possible. Nevertheless she leaned across the table and said--
+
+"How _do_ you think of all these clever things, Mr. Vaughan? I can't
+think how you do it!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, we'd all like to know that," said Captain Foster, the baby
+Guardsman, as Valentia called him. He spoke enviously. He was a
+perfectly beautiful blond, delightfully stupid, and had been longing for
+enough money to marry somebody ever since he was seventeen.
+
+"I'm sure I'd jolly soon write a play if I only knew how."
+
+"It's perfectly easy, really," said Vaughan; "it's just a knack."
+
+"Is it though?"
+
+"That's all."
+
+"How do you get the things taken?"
+
+"Oh, that's a mere fluke--a bit of luck," said Vaughan.
+
+Every one who heard this sighed with relief to think that was how he
+regarded it.
+
+Vaughan always used this exaggerated modesty as an armour against envy,
+for envy, as a rule, is of success rather than of merit. No one would
+have objected to his talent deserving recognition--only to his getting
+it.
+
+"Now what do you think of Miss Luscombe?" Valentia asked the dramatist.
+
+"I don't think of her. I never regard people on the stage as real
+people," Vaughan answered.
+
+"Don't you, really? Well, you ought to know. You have made a sort of
+corner in 'leading ladies'. What curious clothes she wears!"
+
+"Doesn't she? On the stage she dresses like an actress, and off the
+stage she doesn't dress like a lady. She's so extraordinarily vague," he
+said.
+
+"Yes; and yet I've heard that, though she's so dreamy and romantic,
+she's quite wonderfully practical, really. She never accepts an
+engagement unless she gets a large salary--and all that sort of thing."
+
+"I see. She lives in the clouds, but she insists on their having a
+silver lining," said Vaughan. "Who's the pink young man she's confiding
+in now?"
+
+"It's Mr. Rathbone. He likes theatres--at least he collects programmes
+and posters, I think. Besides, he's tattooed."
+
+"Oh, yes. That must be a great help in listening to Miss Luscombe. He's
+been trained to suffer."
+
+Miss Luscombe was talking rather loudly and most confidentially to
+Rathbone, who had an expression of willing--but agonised--martyrdom on
+his fair pink, clean-shaven features.
+
+"I _told_ dear George Alexander that I would have been only _too_
+pleased to understudy Irene in the new piece--in fact, it would have
+just suited me, Mr. Rathbone, and left me plenty of time for my social
+engagements too. Besides, if I once got a chance of a part like that I
+feel I should have made a hit. Oh, it was a cruel disappointment! After
+being too charming to me--or, at any rate, I was charming to him at the
+Cashmores' reception, you know--I remember he was standing in the
+refreshment-room with Mrs. Cashmore, and I went _straight_ up to him and
+said, 'Don't you remember me, Mr. Alexander?'--and after all this he
+only promised me--and that conditionally--a horrid, silly little part in
+the curtain-raiser in No. 2 B Company on tour. On tour! Of course I
+refused that--one must keep up one's prestige, Mr. Rathbone. There's a
+great deal of injustice in the profession. Talent counts for
+nothing--it's all influence. But I've always had a great ambition ever
+since I was a little girl." Miss Luscombe put her head on one side and
+talked as she had to the interviewer of _The Perfect Lady_. "It was
+always my dream--do you know?--to marry a great actor--or, at any rate,
+to be his great friend--like Irving and Ellen Terry--that sort of
+thing--a great, lifelong friendship! And as a child I was madly in love
+with the elder George Grossmith, but I don't think he ever knew it. Too
+bad!"
+
+She pouted childishly, gave her arch musical laugh with its three
+soprano notes and upward inflection, and then accepted a quail with a
+heavy sigh.
+
+"When I was a boy," said Rathbone in a low concentrated voice of
+reminiscence--he spoke rather quickly, for he had been trying in vain
+during the whole of dinner to get a word in edgeways and feared to lose
+his chance now--"when I was a boy I was in love, too, with some one
+on the stage. Between ourselves--you won't mention it, will you, Miss
+Luscombe?----"
+
+"You can trust me," she said earnestly, with a look of Julia Neilson.
+
+"Good! Well, I was in love, and I've got her initials--C. L.--tattooed
+on me now!"
+
+"Impossible! How exciting! Who is C. L.?"
+
+He looked round the table and murmured in a low voice, "Cissie Loftus.
+Isn't it odd? I wrote and told her about it, but I never received an
+answer to my letter."
+
+"Poor, poor boy! I call that really touching! Will you show me the
+initials some day?"
+
+"Oh no. Impossible." He was stern, adamantine. She hastily went on. "So
+you're very keen--interested in the stage, Mr. Rathbone?"
+
+"Well, in the stage door. I collect programmes, and I haven't missed a
+first night since I was twenty!"
+
+"Fancy! Then I ought to remember your face, at all the theatres!"
+
+"I mean at the Gaiety," he said, "only the Gaiety."
+
+"Oh, the Gaiety!" she turned her shoulder to him.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+"Yes, Miss Daphne, if you would come out to New York you'd have a real
+good time. You'd turn all the young fellow's heads. I'm afraid you'd do
+a terrible amount of damage there. I should like to show you and Mrs.
+Wyburn Newport in the season, too. You ladies have it all your own way
+over the other side of----may I say, the herringpond?"
+
+"Oh, please do; yes, _do_ say the herringpond!"
+
+Daphne leant forward and said to Harry:
+
+"Do you know who is that very distinguished-looking man who has just
+come in--rather weary and a little grey on the temples? He bowed and
+kissed the woman's hand so charmingly--at the next table to us. Looks
+like a great diplomatist."
+
+"Then he must be a stockbroker," said Valentia decidedly. "Every one
+with the grand manner always is."
+
+"Really! I can't say; I don't know any stockbrokers," said Miss
+Luscombe.
+
+"How distinguished that sounds!" murmured Vaughan.
+
+"It's very clever of you, Miss Luscombe," said Lady Walmer; "I don't see
+how you can help it! I know nobody else. I always tell Alec she'll have
+to marry one, and when she says she doesn't want to, 'My dear child,' I
+say, 'you can't marry people you don't see!' And almost the only people
+she ever sees at our house _are_ stockbrokers--except a few soldiers
+who never have a penny."
+
+Alec was the daughter, named after her distinguished godmother.
+
+"It's quite gone out to be snobbish now," Lady Walmer continued in a
+lower voice to Harry. "We're all only too glad to take all we can get in
+exchange for anything we give!"
+
+"And you don't call that snobbish?" said Harry.
+
+"My dear, no!--of course, we give as little as possible. I talk like
+this and yet I married for love--and you know the result! Walmer's
+always gambling, always running after--goodness knows what--and leaves
+me--not quite in the gutter, but certainly on the kerb!"
+
+"Don't you want Alec to marry for love?"
+
+"I'm afraid she'll have to, my dear--she's not very attractive. It's a
+blessing she's an heiress. But if she's allowed to play hockey, and
+skate, and fence, and dance, and the husband is fairly kind to her, I'm
+sure she'll be happy--I mean, I have no idea of her marrying a duke,
+Harry. I shall be satisfied if he's a charming man, and not too
+selfish." She lowered her voice still more to add--"You know she likes
+you, poor child, don't you?"
+
+"You're making fun of me, dear Lady Walmer."
+
+"No, I'm not.... Walmer's taken 'Flying Fish' again, and after Cowes
+we're going for a long cruise. You must come with us. Her father will be
+all right. He lets me have my own way about her. Well, aren't you
+coming?"
+
+"You're too frightfully kind, Lady Walmer, of course. But----"
+
+"My dear boy, of course you're going to the Green Gate, but I wish you'd
+listen to a woman of the world. That," she gave Valentia a piercing
+glance, "can't go on for ever! You will find Romer making a row some
+day, and that will be a bore for you. He's just the sort of man who
+would."
+
+Valentia, noticing their confidential tone and feeling instinctively
+that some treachery was in the air, looked once angrily at Harry and
+then became apparently absorbed in the conversation of Vaughan.
+
+Every one was talking volubly and gaily. Only Daphne and Captain Foster
+were silent as they sat side by side looking at their plates. But they
+were the only people who had found the dinner a real success.
+
+Harry, who with all his _usage du monde_ was peculiarly subject to
+sudden obscure impulses as of the primitive man, became pale with a
+strange and painful sensation as he looked at Valentia.
+
+She was flirting with Vaughan, or so every one present must be thinking.
+Of course it was only from pique, and he would soon put a stop to it.
+
+And Vaughan, with his ironical glance and quiet manner, why did he look
+into her eyes all the time?
+
+What was he saying?
+
+Harry asked them all to come back to the studio for some music, but even
+as he made the arrangement to drive Valentia, he remembered that, _a la
+fin des fins_, he would have to leave her at her husband's house. Would
+Romer be sitting up? What an ass he was! What rot the whole dinner was!
+It was all through Van Buren. Van Buren was a fool. Confound Romer!
+
+Harry was jealous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+DAPHNE
+
+
+"More flowers from Van Buren? Let me look at them. A spray of lilies of
+the valley; how touching! He expects you to wear them at the opera. I
+think it's _such_ a mistake to wear real flowers on an evening dress.
+They have a damp, chilly look, like fresh vegetables, at first, and when
+they begin to fade they make you look faded, too. Never mind, Daphne; I
+think perhaps you'd better wear them just to-night," said Valentia.
+
+"Yesterday," said Daphne, "he sent me that basket of American Beauty
+roses. The day before he sent me Ella Wheeler Wilcox's poems."
+
+Valentia smiled. "Poor darling!--I mean Van Buren's a poor darling, not
+you. You see, he's got the nice sort of Boston idea that a man ought
+only to send a girl flowers or books, or music. He thinks it's
+respectful. But, anyway, it's a very good sign."
+
+"A good sign? But I thought there was so much of that sort of thing--I
+mean fuss and attention, to girls in America. I thought that didn't mean
+anything. I mean anything particular."
+
+"Daphne, dear, don't blind yourself; don't shut your eyes to obvious
+facts. It isn't a matter of what you think or what I think, or of
+speculation at all. I _happen to know_ that Van Buren _is_ going to
+propose to you. He'll probably do it at Henley or at Sandown, or in the
+Park. He's certain to want it to be on a typically English background;
+but you can take it from me, for a dead cert, that it's bound to come."
+
+Daphne sat down and looked serious.
+
+"Valentia, it's no good. Don't let him do it. It will be so frightfully
+uncomfortable meeting him afterwards."
+
+"Frightfully uncomfortable meeting the man to whom you're engaged? Why?"
+
+"Because I shan't be engaged to him."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I shall never marry, Valentia."
+
+Valentia stared at her in silence.
+
+"What is your idea, darling? Why, you won't be eighteen till June. You
+can't be sure you'll never want to marry!"
+
+"Well, I don't care for Van Buren."
+
+"I thought you liked him so much?"
+
+"Well, he seems all right at first. But I simply couldn't stand him
+always about."
+
+"Couldn't you? Poor pet! But he mightn't _be_ always about."
+
+"Well, I couldn't stand his marked attention. Valentia, I _hate_ marked
+attention."
+
+"Do you, really? Who'd have thought it?"
+
+"Well--and he'd always be so considerate and so thoughtful and so
+respectful!"
+
+"That mightn't last when you were married," said Valentia consolingly.
+
+"Perhaps he might not be so bad after we were once married.... But I
+shouldn't like to risk it. And the engagement! Oh! I couldn't simply
+_stand_ the engagement! Just think of the ring, and the sentiment, and
+the fuss, and the letters! Oh, he'd enjoy it all so much! Oh, it would
+make me simply sick to see how pleased he'd be!"
+
+"I know that feeling," said Valentia sympathetically, nodding her head.
+
+"Oh, and don't you see how he'd think he was engaged to a
+well-brought-up, nice English girl who was a relation of Harry's, and
+knew all the right people, and all that sort of thing? And he'd take a
+big house--he's hinted this to me already--most likely in Park
+Lane--anyhow, something just like a millionaire in a book. It's all so
+dull, and cut-and-dried."
+
+"Some of these cut-and-dried obvious things turn out quite jolly
+afterwards. It's the uncomfortable, romantic things that are more often
+failures. And you know, Daphne, you do like pretty things and clothes,
+and going everywhere, and--not only that, he's really such a dear, and a
+good sort, and so good-looking! And you'd put me into a very awkward
+position with Harry if you refuse him. But, of course, darling, you must
+do as you like."
+
+"Well, then, Valentia, don't _let_ me refuse him. I don't want to. Don't
+let it come to that. I'm sure I should loathe to hear him propose."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It would make me sick."
+
+"What can I tell Harry really as your reason for not being able to stand
+Van?"
+
+"I'm sure _I_ don't know!"
+
+"He bores you," announced Valentia. "That's what's the matter. He
+doesn't amuse you."
+
+"It isn't that, it isn't that!" cried Daphne vehemently. "I don't _want_
+to be amused. Do you think I like a man because he's clever, or funny,
+and always making jokes? That bores me frightfully. Harry's way of being
+lively and clever bores me to _death_! I don't want to marry a
+professional entertainer! No, Valentia, that's more the sort of thing
+you'd like. _You're_ quite sorry Romer's not like that."
+
+"I don't suggest that it would be ideal to marry Harry Lauder, Daphne
+dear. But wouldn't you really like someone fairly intelligent?"
+
+"No. Why should I? Do you think I want to marry a man so horribly clever
+that he wouldn't understand a word I said?"
+
+"Let's have it out, dear. What do you think you want?" Valentia answered
+herself; "It's Foster, of course! That dull, empty-headed, commonplace,
+hard-up, handsome boy. You can't marry him. He's just twenty-two, and
+has only a miserable allowance, and is in an expensive regiment, and
+you, darling, will only have three hundred a year. I should love to see
+you happy in your own way and having your wish, but don't you think it's
+a childish fancy? You're both children. Of course he hasn't suggested
+marriage, yet, has he? He knows perfectly well it's out of the
+question."
+
+"Valentia! Darling! Why, he proposed to me the day we were
+introduced--at Prince's, and he's been doing it ever since."
+
+"Oh, how utterly absurd of him! Well, anyhow, you must wait and see.
+Even if he could afford it, I don't think it would be a success. Why,
+there's nothing in the boy! What do you see in him?"
+
+"I like the way he laughs," said Daphne, after a pause.
+
+"Do you mind telling me one thing straight out? I'm being very nice to
+you about this, dear. I ought to scold you. But, at any rate, you must
+treat me with complete confidence."
+
+"Of course, of course, dear."
+
+"Tell me, he hasn't ever kissed you, has he?"
+
+"Oh, Valentia!"
+
+"I beg your pardon, darling. I felt sure he hadn't."
+
+"Of course he has."
+
+"He has!--Where?"
+
+"How do you mean, where? Oh! at every dance where we've ever met. He
+always does, whenever he can. Is it so dreadful? He's such a boy!"
+
+"Fancy your liking him enough for that!" said Valentia, stupefied.
+
+"Oh, he's a darling; and the only person I ever could possibly marry."
+
+"It's rather serious," said Valentia; "and poor Van who is so devoted!"
+
+"He isn't, really," said Daphne decidedly.
+
+"Don't you think so? Why?"
+
+"Oh, the whole thing's an _idea_--the sort of thing he _wants to do_.
+It's not genuine."
+
+"I should have thought the feelings of a man of thirty-four who could
+marry any one he chose would be more real than the fancy of a mere boy!
+Boys like anybody."
+
+"Van isn't genuine like Cyril," said Daphne.
+
+"Who on earth's Cyril?"
+
+"Captain Foster."
+
+Valentia walked round the room and then said--
+
+"And you really suppose you're going to adore him all your life?"
+
+"I _suppose_ so. I really don't know. I know about now. Oh, Valentia, be
+a darling and let him come to the fancy ball with us." She kissed her.
+"And, oh, do tell Harry to explain to Van that it can't go on, that he
+must put it out of his head. Do, darling Valentia. Any well-brought-up
+young girl will do for him just as well!"
+
+"And wouldn't any well-brought-up young girl do for Cyril?"
+
+"I don't know. But only Cyril will do for me. Oh! the jolly way he has
+of saying 'Righto' and 'You're all right,' and calling me 'little girl!'
+Oh, he _is_ a dear!"
+
+"Oh, well, if he says such brilliant things as _that_!"
+
+"It isn't what he _says_----"
+
+"Oh, hush, Daphne, here is Romer. I shan't tell him a word about it.
+Well, I'll think it over." She called Daphne back and said in a
+half-hearted way--
+
+"I suppose it wouldn't do just to sort of please Harry by marrying Van,
+and then seeing that silly boy now and then. You'd so soon get tired of
+him--but, no! that wouldn't be right. Forget that I said it--I don't
+mean it."
+
+"I couldn't stand Van at all," said Daphne definitely, "whether I saw
+Cyril or not."
+
+"Then you shan't be bothered with him. But can't you give up Cyril? I
+know I'm right about it. It isn't only the hard-upness and the
+impossibility--of course, I know he's got relations and all that--but,
+it's he himself. You'll get bored with him, too, in a different way."
+
+"I like him so much _now_," pleaded Daphne.
+
+Romer came in and Valentia merely told him at great length every word of
+the foregoing conversation with lavish comments by herself. Secretly
+Romer was bitterly disappointed when he realised that the possibility of
+his being left alone with his wife was more remote, but of course he
+agreed with Valentia, as she changed her mind a dozen times on the
+subject, and as usual the conversation ended in a telephone message to
+Harry to come round at once.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN FANCY DRESS
+
+
+Van Buren had had many pleasures, many gratifications since he had been
+in London; his dreams--the dreams inspired by Du Maurier's drawings when
+he was a little boy--had been very nearly realised. Perhaps the greatest
+triumph that he had had yet was the evening of the Artists' Fancy Ball.
+
+He had succeeded in making up a party to go in costume. He was always
+making up parties, and he had for many years been obsessed by a longing
+to dress up.
+
+Harry, in mockery of his passion for everything English, had advised him
+to go as an Ancient Briton, with a coat of blue paint. Scorning such
+ribald chaff, he had ordered a magnificent costume of chain armour.
+Greatly to his satisfaction he had persuaded Hereford Vaughan to go as
+Shakespeare, Valentia and Daphne respectively as Portia in scarlet and
+Rosalind in green.
+
+A large party were to dine at Van Buren's rooms before the ball. Fancy
+dress has the effect of bringing out odd, unexpected little
+characteristics in people. For example, Harry, good-looking and a dandy,
+quite a romantic type, hated dressing up, and cared nothing whatever
+about his costume; while Romer, the sober and serious, enjoyed it
+immensely, and appeared to think his appearance of the utmost
+importance--almost a matter of life and death.
+
+The women were far less self-conscious in costume than the men, and
+cared far less how they looked, probably because women are always more
+or less in fancy dress, and it was not so much of a novelty to them.
+
+Valentia had pointed out that Shakespeare, to be quite correct, should
+wear ear-rings; so Vaughan called at her house on the way to Van
+Buren's, as she had promised to lend him some.
+
+"He won't know how to put them on," said Daphne, drawing on her long
+boots. "Probably he hasn't had his ears pierced; you must go and screw
+them on for him."
+
+Valentia ran down. Just as she was screwing the long coral and pearl
+ear-rings with rather painful energy on to the unfortunate young man's
+ears, the servant, with a slight expression of terror that could not be
+concealed, announced--
+
+"Mrs. Wyburn."
+
+The situation was really rather comic. Romer's mother, who was going to
+a dinner-party in the same street, could not forgo the pleasure of
+calling unexpectedly on them at half-past seven, vaguely hoping that it
+might be inconvenient to them, and that she would catch them in
+something they didn't want her to know--a true mother's instinct. But
+not in her wildest dreams had she expected what she saw when she entered
+the drawing-room--her daughter-in-law in her red mortar-board, red cloak
+and bands, with, apparently, her arms round the neck of a young man in
+purple silk stockings and jewelled embroidered gloves with rings outside
+them.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn literally sank into a chair.
+
+Valentia was perfectly equal to the occasion. She thoroughly enjoyed the
+baffling of Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"I can't think why Romer didn't tell you," she repeated several times,
+"that Van Buren is giving a dinner for the fancy ball!" and she rang and
+gave orders that her husband and sister were to come down immediately.
+
+Romer had been four hours dressing; Daphne about ten minutes.
+
+"I do think you ought to have a little make-up. Will you?" said Valentia
+to Vaughan.
+
+"I should love to," he answered, to Mrs. Wyburn's disgust and horror,
+looking in the glass and taking very little notice of the indignant old
+lady.
+
+"He _does_ need just a touch of lip-salve and a little black under the
+eyes, don't you think so?" Valentia asked, caressingly, pretending to
+consult Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"I can't say, I'm sure. I've no idea what he wants," said Mrs. Wyburn
+with a snap.
+
+"But don't you think it would improve him, darling?" Valentia went on,
+holding her head on one side and holding up her hand as if she were
+looking at a picture.
+
+"Not at all," said Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"Then do you think his lips are red enough already?" asked Valentia.
+
+Vaughan hastily interrupted the absurd discussion.
+
+"The human lip is never red enough," he said decidedly; "they ought to
+be bright, light scarlet."
+
+"That's just what I think. I've got some lovely scarlet stuff--the
+colour of sealing-wax. Shall I fetch it for you?"
+
+"Yes, do," he said.
+
+"But won't it look rather----"
+
+"No; merely decent," said the young man decidedly.
+
+"And what does Romer say to _all this_?" said Mrs. Wyburn with a forced
+smile and a voice trembling with uncontrollable rage.
+
+"Oh, he likes it, darling. He loves it. No one's been so keen about
+their dress as Romer. I'll go and fetch him, and my roll of parchment--I
+had forgotten my roll of parchment."
+
+She ran upstairs and came down saying--
+
+"Romer won't be a minute, dear; he's awfully anxious for you to see his
+dress. He's just darkening his eyelashes. That's all. He's Louis XIX or
+something, you know."
+
+She then deliberately and openly drew Vaughan to the window where there
+was still bright June daylight and painted his lips a brilliant scarlet
+to their mutual satisfaction and Mrs. Wyburn's unspeakable horror.
+
+"Mad," murmured Mrs. Wyburn, half to herself, "quite mad! I shall be
+quite upset for the Trott-Hellyers' dinner-party. It's Dr.
+Trott-Hellyers' birthday. He only _lives_ three doors from you" (she
+said this rather reproachfully), "and I dine with him _every_ year on
+his birthday! And to think I only came in to see my son for a minute or
+two, because I couldn't bear to pass his door ... his very door...."
+
+"Sweet of you," said Valentia.
+
+... "And then to think I should find----" She screamed suddenly.
+
+Daphne had come in, in her green cloak, doublet and hose, and little
+green cap, Romer in paint and powder, patches and lace ruffles, sword
+and snuffbox. There was a lavish amount of rouge on his cheeks and his
+eyes were blacked almost to the temples.
+
+Hearing that his mother was there he had finished the left eye rather
+hurriedly, the result being that he looked as if he had been fighting.
+
+While the poor lady was trying to adjust herself to this sight, and
+explaining for the sixth time why she was there, and making bitter
+remarks about a young girl going to a ball in what she (Mrs. Wyburn)
+called trousers, and while Daphne kept on wrapping herself in the folds
+of her cloak and then undoing them again to show her nice high boots,
+she was still more distressed at the arrival of her _bete noire_ and
+mortal enemy, Harry de Freyne.
+
+Van Buren had sent his motor for them, containing Harry.
+
+Had his name not been announced by the servant, Mrs. Wyburn would
+certainly not have recognised Harry. He was a pierrot in white satin,
+with a violet tulle ruffle round his neck and a black velvet mask. One
+would know him solely by his single eye-glass, his pleasant voice, and
+fluent conversation.
+
+Pretending to be a clown he jumped in, bowed low to Mrs. Wyburn, and
+kissed first Daphne and then Valentia.
+
+With a last-straw expression Mrs. Wyburn drew herself up to her full
+height.
+
+"Give me my cloak, Romer. I must go. No, don't come to the carriage with
+me. Suppose the Trott-Hellyers were to see you--they'd never get over
+it!"
+
+"Why, it's all right, mother," Romer answered. "I'm all right. I'm a
+courtier--of the tenth century--you know. I'm all right."
+
+"And you approve of your young sister-in-law going to a public ball
+dressed up as a man?"
+
+"Rosalind wasn't a man, mother. You forget; you must read the _Midsummer
+Night's Dream_ again. You've forgotten it."
+
+"I shan't find Rosalind there. But that's not the point. When I came in
+I found Valentia with that man--the man who writes in purple
+knickerbockers----"
+
+"No, he doesn't--he never writes in purple knickerbockers."
+
+"Is this meant to be witty?" she asked with a freezing glare.
+
+"What? No, I shouldn't think so."
+
+"I found _your wife_," she said in a low hissing voice, as they passed
+through the hall where there was a large looking-glass--Romer's
+attention wandered--"within an inch of that young man's face, putting
+ear-rings in his ears!"
+
+"Well, she couldn't put them in a mile off," said Romer absently.
+
+He was now frankly turning his back on his mother, and staring at his
+face in the glass.
+
+"Hang it all! I don't look so bad, do I?"
+
+"You look a gentleman," she answered coldly; "any son of mine must look
+a gentleman. Of course, you look ridiculous--and, as far as that goes,
+you _are_ ridiculous; but that doesn't matter quite so much as long as
+you look a gentleman."
+
+"Oh, rot!"
+
+Romer was trying to move a patch from one corner of his eye to the
+other.
+
+"But as to Harry de Freyne?... And shall you allow your wife to dance
+with him in that costume?"
+
+"Of course--why not? And--_doesn't_ Valentia look--jolly?"
+
+"I think the scarlet with her golden hair is rather too--striking," she
+answered spitefully.
+
+"Oh, _she's_ all right!"
+
+"I think you're all mad!" she answered as she reached the door.
+
+The servant opened it.
+
+"Oh, we're all right. Good night, mother. You'll be late for the
+Trott-Hellyers."
+
+Drawing her cloak over her narrow shoulders, Mrs. Wyburn stepped angrily
+into the brougham.
+
+Although it was only three doors from her son's house, she would not for
+the world have walked.
+
+When she arrived there, still in a very bad temper at all she had seen,
+she nevertheless boasted to her neighbour about how remarkably
+distinguished and handsome her son and daughter-in-law had looked in
+costume, and of their success, charm, perfect domestic happiness, and
+importance and perfection generally.
+
+She succeeded in depressing the fossils on both sides of her, but they
+smiled at each other, indulgent to the feminine weakness of so amiable
+and devoted a mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A CELEBRITY AT HOME
+
+
+Miss Luscombe lived with her mother in a species of tank, or rather in a
+flat that gave that impression because it was in the basement. It was
+dark, and such glimpses as they had of people passing on the pavement
+were extremely odd; it seemed a procession of legs and skirts, like
+something in a pantomime or a cinematograph.
+
+The Luscombes lived, as it were, beneath the surface; but that did not
+prevent their being very much _dans le mouvement_, and coming up with
+great frequency to the surface to breathe. And when one had once walked
+down the steps and found one's way into the tank, it was an extremely
+pleasant one, and quite artistic. It seemed original, too. There was
+something almost freakish in being answered by the parlourmaid (who was
+suitably like a fish in manner and profile), "Miss Luscombe is at home,
+and will you please step downstairs?" when one had rung the bell on the
+ground floor. And Miss Luscombe's ringing laugh with its three soprano
+notes and upward cadence always greeted one charmingly and cordially,
+and one always liked her; one couldn't help it. Her great fault was that
+she was never alone. She existed in an atmosphere of teaparties and
+'afternoons'; like the Lotus-Eaters, she lived in 'that land where it
+was always afternoon'.
+
+For an obscure person she led a singularly public life. In her existence
+there seemed no secrets, no shadows, no contrasts, and no domesticity.
+One could never imagine her except in what she regarded as full dress,
+nor without, by her side, a perpetual bamboo table with three little
+shelves in it, in which were distributed small cut pieces of very yellow
+cake with very black currants, sandwiches, made of rather warm thin
+bread and butter, pink and white cocoanut biscuits, and constant relays
+of strong dark tea made in a drab china teapot. On crowded
+afternoons--in fact, every other Thursday--little coffee cups containing
+lumpy iced coffee were also handed round. When they had music there were
+lemonade, mustard and cress sandwiches, and a buffet.
+
+Even when Miss Luscombe was entirely alone she did not seem so. She had
+got into the habit of talking always as if she were surrounded by
+crowds, and said so much about the celebrities who ought to have turned
+up that one felt almost as depressed as if they had really been there.
+Sometimes they came, for there was no one like Miss Luscombe for
+firmness. Also, she was never offended and was hospitality itself, and
+she had a way of greeting one that was a reward for all one's
+trouble--it seemed much more trouble than it really was, somehow, just
+to step down into the tank. And she was so charming no one could help
+being flattered till the next visitor arrived, when she was even more
+charming.
+
+After the Fancy Ball she had got hold of Valentia, who came to see her
+on one of those Thursdays that she had pointed out as peculiarly her
+own--one of _my_ Thursdays. She really believed that for any one else to
+receive on that day was a kind of infringement of copyright.
+
+Miss Luscombe was wearing on this occasion a drab taffeta silk dress
+with transparent sleeves and a low neck. She wore a rose in her hair, a
+necklace, and long gloves, because she said she wouldn't have time to
+dress again before going out to dinner.
+
+About a dozen people were there--vague shamefaced young men with nothing
+to say, and confident, satirical, fluent young men with a great deal to
+laugh at. Most of the older women seemed a shade patronising in tone,
+and looked as if they had never been there before. On the faces of the
+young women and the girls could be read the resolution never to go there
+again.
+
+Mrs. Luscombe, the mother, was so refined that there was scarcely
+anything of her; her presence was barely perceptible. She had learnt the
+art of self-effacement to the point of showing no trace of being there
+at all. To add to the effect of not being noticeable, she wore a dress
+exactly the same colour as the sofa on which she sat--like those insects
+who, when hiding from their foes, become the colour of the leaves on
+which they live. She was practically invisible.
+
+On the other hand, Miss Luscombe herself was very much there--very much
+_en evidence_. Smiling, greeting, archly laughing, sweetly pouting;
+coquetting, eating, playing, singing, acting--almost dancing--an ideal
+and delightful hostess.
+
+She said to every one as they arrived how sweet it was of them to come
+so early, or how naughty it was of them to come so late, or how horrid
+it was of them not to come last time, or how dear it would be of them if
+they came next. She always introduced people to each other who were not
+on speaking terms, and had intentionally cut each other for years. She
+had a real genius for making people accidentally meet who had just
+broken off their engagement, or had some other awkward reason for not
+wishing to see each other--and then pushing them together so that they
+could not get away. At heart she was intensely a peacemaker, but people
+who had met there rarely made up their quarrels.
+
+When the favourite actor arrived she introduced him to every one till he
+was ready to drop, and when the great singer telegraphed he couldn't
+come, she showed the wire to everybody. Most of the guests preferred his
+not coming. Very few could have endured her triumph had he really
+arrived. On the other hand, they would themselves have far preferred to
+receive a telegram of refusal rather than not to hear from him at all.
+
+When these entertainments were over and the mother and daughter were
+left alone, the daughter became far more thoroughly artificial than she
+was when surrounded by her friends. There was no throwing off the mask;
+on the contrary, it was fixed more firmly on, and Miss Luscombe gave
+free vent to her sham passion for imitation comedy.
+
+On this particular Thursday, as soon as Flora Luscombe had laughed her
+last visitor archly to the door, she knelt by her mother's side, put her
+arms round her, and said--
+
+"Dear, dear Mummy, how sweet it is to be alone!"
+
+Mrs. Luscombe shrank back a little. This pet name, only too appropriate,
+always got a little on her nerves, but she felt bound to play up in an
+amateurish sort of way to a certain extent.
+
+"Hadn't you better go and take off that beautiful dress?" she said.
+"You're not really dining out, are you?"
+
+"No, dearest, I managed to get out of it, but alas! I've got to go to
+the Reception--you know--that horrid Royal Institution of Water
+Colours--afterwards. It isn't worth while to change again. Oh, how weary
+one does get of the continual round! And then to-morrow!" She sighed.
+
+"What is it to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow! Don't talk of it! There's Mrs. Morris's At Home in Maida
+Hill, and then right at the other end of London the Hyslop-Dunn's in
+Victoria Grove. Oh, dear! And yet one feels one must be _seen_ at all
+these places, darling, or else it's remarked at once."
+
+"You live too much for the world," replied her mother, tidying up some
+half-finished watercress sandwiches with a sharp knife. She wondered if,
+thus repaired, they would do for next Thursday.
+
+"You know, Mummy dear, that's the worst of our terrible profession. We
+must keep before the public, or else we drop out and are forgotten. What
+a sweet creature Valentia Wyburn is! I thought she was quite, quite
+dear. And the husband and the cousin are darlings too. Of course they
+wouldn't come; I couldn't get them to an afternoon."
+
+She got up and looked in the glass.
+
+"What a crowd there was to-day! Three people came up to the front door
+at the same time. I think they enjoyed themselves, don't you? Though I
+feel I can't pay every one proper attention when there's such a crush,
+but I do my little best.... Mr. Simpson came up to me and told me I
+looked quite wonderful. But he's a silly thing." She pouted and put her
+head on one side. "Did I look too hideous, darling?"
+
+"Beautiful, of course. The only thing is ..."
+
+Miss Luscombe clapped her hands and laughed.
+
+"Did its little girlie really look as nice as all that? Oh, Mummy,
+Mummy!"
+
+"Charming, dear, I only wish that ..."
+
+"It's too proud of its little daughter, that's what it is," said Miss
+Luscombe, sitting on the arm of her mother's chair. "It's a silly, vain,
+conceited mother, that it is. It can't see any fault in its pet."
+
+She tried to pat her mother's cheek. Mrs. Luscombe moved aside with
+justifiable irritation.
+
+"Don't do that, Flora! Yes, dear, of course, I think you're wonderful,
+and looked sweet to-day; but I do wish ..."
+
+"No, no, it doesn't want anything," said Flora.
+
+"I should be so pleased--if you'd put on just a little less lip-salve
+and not quite so much of that bluish powder."
+
+Having succeeded in completing her sentence, her mother got up and faded
+quickly out of the room and shut the door, leaving Flora looking quite
+surprised and rather upset with being found fault with.
+
+Indeed, she did not quite recover her equanimity until she had looked
+over the cards in the hall and put on a great deal more powder and
+lip-salve, after which she told her mother perhaps she was right, and in
+any case she, Flora, would always do what she asked, and would always
+follow her dear, dear Mummy's advice.
+
+She was so charming and amiable that Mrs. Luscombe pretended to believe
+her, and said it was _sweet_ of her to take it all off and go out that
+evening without any adventitious aids to beauty; and this she said in
+spite of the obvious fact that Flora had evidently put on considerably
+more than usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MISCHIEF
+
+
+The elder Mrs. Wyburn was seated at the gloomy window of her
+sulky-looking house in Curzon Street one bright day in the season,
+looking out with some anxiety.
+
+"Of course she's late; but if that woman doesn't come I'll never forgive
+her. She's a silly fool, but at least she does hear what's going on,"
+she reflected.
+
+At this moment an old-fashioned-looking victoria drove up, drawn by two
+large grey horses. In it sat a rather fat and important-looking lady,
+with greyish red hair, a straight decided mouth, and several firm chins.
+Her most marked characteristic was her intense decision on trivialities.
+She was always curiously definite on the vaguest of subjects, and
+extraordinarily firm and sensible about nothing in particular.
+
+Miss Westbury was a rich unmarried woman, with a peculiarly matronly
+appearance, a good-natured love of giving advice, and with views that
+obviously dated--one did not know exactly from when. If she had some of
+the Victorian severities of the sixties, she had also many of the
+sentimental vagaries of the eighties. The serious business of her life
+was gossip. In her lighter moments she collected autographs. But her
+gossip differed from that of the nervous, impatient Mrs. Wyburn in that
+it was far more pompous and moral, and not nearly so spiteful and
+accurate.
+
+Miss Westbury sailed in--I need hardly say she was dressed in
+heliotrope--and sat down rather seriously in a large--and the only
+comfortable--armchair.
+
+"My dear Millie, how extremely good of you to come!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Wyburn.
+
+Miss Westbury had been christened Maria, but Millie was the name which
+she had chosen to be called by her friends.
+
+"I am very pleased to come, dear Isabella. To call on you on one of your
+Wednesdays is, I know, quite hopeless if one has anything to say. To
+call on any one on a day at home, except as a mere matter of form, I do
+not consider sensible."
+
+"Quite so. Will you have some tea?"
+
+Mrs. Wyburn rang the bell rather fretfully. She did not care for
+Millie's made conversation, and hated her way of gaining time.
+
+"I will have what I always have, dear Mrs. Wyburn, at five o'clock, if I
+may--hot water with one teaspoonful of milk, and a saccharine tablet
+which I bring with me. I am not a faddist, and I think all those sort of
+fancies about what is and what is not good for one are exceedingly
+foolish; but when I go in for a regime, dear, I give it a fair chance.
+Otherwise there is no sense in it!"
+
+She settled herself still more sensibly and decidedly in her chair.
+
+"I wonder," said Mrs. Wyburn nervously--one could see she was not
+listening, and thought Miss Westbury was merely drivelling on--"whether
+you will come to the point at once? It would be a great comfort if you
+would. I have been feeling quite anxious about your visit. I rather
+foolishly took some coffee after lunch, and it kept me awake the whole
+afternoon--either that, or my anxiety."
+
+"If you take coffee after lunch," replied Miss Westbury, "you should
+take it made as I do. Two teaspoonfuls of coffee in a large
+breakfast-cup full of hot water, a saccharine tablet, and a teaspoonful
+of condensed----"
+
+"What was it you really heard, Millie dear, about my daughter-in-law?"
+interrupted Mrs. Wyburn sharply.
+
+Here the footman brought in the tea. Miss Westbury frowned, and
+ostentatiously changed the subject.
+
+"Have you been to the Grafton? I was persuaded to go. I think, myself,
+there's a great deal too much fuss made about pictures nowadays. When
+one thinks of the money that's wasted on them, when it might be sent to
+a hospital, it makes one's blood boil! And some of those that are made
+the most fuss about--both the Old Masters and the very new ones--these
+post-men, or whatever they're called--seem to me perfect nonsense. A
+daub and a splash--no real trouble taken--and then you're expected to
+rave about it. There's one man--some one wants me to buy a picture of
+his--he paints all his pictures in tiny squares of different colours;
+when you're close you can't see anything, but it seems that if you walk
+five feet away it forms into a kind of pattern. It seems it's the
+tessellated school, and they tell me that in a few years nothing else
+will count. And what I thought was a mountain in a mist turns out to be
+'A Nun with cows grazing.' Silly nonsense I call it!"
+
+"Was the nun grazing, or the cows?" asked Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"Goodness knows, dear. Then there was that other one called Waning Day,
+or something. Two people in a boat sailing on dry land! Then that
+picture of a purple man with a green beard! Oh, my dear! The people who
+took me there told me it was full of--something French--_essayage_, or
+_mouvement_, I think. The man who tried to make me buy it said it was
+symbolical. But of course I refused. You know I never have anything to
+do with nonsense. Well now, my dear----" Taking pity on Mrs. Wyburn's
+extreme impatience, Miss Westbury came a little nearer. "What I heard
+was simply this. My cousin, Jane Totness, took her little boy, who is in
+London for the holidays, to the British Museum. She always likes to
+improve his mind as much as possible; besides, he had been promised a
+treat after having a tooth out; the first week of the holidays he always
+has a tooth out and a treat after. Jane is like that; she's a sensible
+woman, and I must say I think she brings her boys up very well. I myself
+might have been more inclined to take him to Madame Tussaud's, or even
+to a matinee, or to have an ice at Buzzard's; but I dare say I'm
+old-fashioned enough in some ways, and Jane knows her own business
+best."
+
+"No doubt she does," said Mrs. Wyburn, quivering with impatience,
+tapping her foot on the floor, and trying to restrain herself. "And so
+she took the little boy--Charlie, isn't it?--to the British Museum? Go
+on, dear!"
+
+"Not Charlie, Mrs. Wyburn. It was little Laurence--little Laurence. He
+was called Laurence after his grandfather, Lord Dorking. It's the rule
+in the Totness family; the second son is always called after the
+grandfather, the eldest son after his father, and the third son--I mean,
+of course, if there is one--after the mother's father. Don't you think
+it's a very sensible plan, dear?"
+
+Mrs. Wyburn gave her friend first a sympathetic smile, and then a
+murderous glance.
+
+"Yes. Well?"
+
+"Oh yes. Well, she was just pointing out something to little
+Laurence--he's an intelligent boy, and I dare say he was enjoying it
+very much--when, to her great surprise, _who_ should she see but Mrs.
+Romer Wyburn, talking away like anything on a seat with--who do you
+think?"
+
+"Who?"
+
+"That young man Harry de Freyne--her cousin, isn't it?"
+
+"How extraordinary!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn. "Did they seem uncomfortable
+when they saw Jane?"
+
+"Oh dear, no, my dear. They seemed most comfortable. Jane bowed to
+them--of course rather coldly, she says--and they smiled and nodded, and
+Valentia kissed her hand to Laurence. Of course, Jane was very much
+pained and shocked about it all. I must say her first thought, dear, was
+that I should tell you. Jane Totness is a thoroughly good woman--so
+thoughtful."
+
+"Do you see anything so very peculiar about it?" said Mrs. Wyburn. "You
+know, the young man--I disapprove of him as strongly as any one can--but
+he's an artist, and she is his cousin, and perhaps he wanted to show her
+something in the British Museum?"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Wyburn, far be it from me to look on the dark side of
+things, but, as Jane said, who on earth would go to the British Museum,
+unless they were dragged there by force, except to have a private
+interview?"
+
+"But if he wanted to speak to her alone, I don't see why he shouldn't
+call on her."
+
+"That's just it. If it were a simple, innocent, harmless conversation,
+that is what he would have done. But it was quite clear that there was
+something clandestine about it, and you may be quite sure Romer knew
+nothing of it. Besides, they are always together."
+
+"It does look odd," said Mrs. Wyburn. "What would you advise me to do?
+Shall I speak to my son or my daughter-in-law about it?"
+
+"To neither, my dear. If you speak only to your son, he will tell her,
+and she will get round him, and prove there's nothing in it. If you
+speak to her she will get round you, and say that Romer knew all about
+it. My advice is, if you really want to put a stop to this
+flirtation--I'm sure it's gossiped about--even Jane, who is the last
+person in the world to talk, speaks of it to every one. If I were you, I
+would speak to the young man himself."
+
+"To Harry de Freyne? Yes, it's rather a good idea."
+
+It struck Mrs. Wyburn that to do this would, perhaps, cause more
+annoyance than anything else. She was now anxious to get rid of Miss
+Westbury, who evidently had nothing more to impart. But that lady was
+not so easy to dispose of. She broke into a long monologue on the
+subject of regime, servants, and little dressmakers, occasionally
+returning to the subject of the British Museum, and the shocking
+frivolity there.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn was just thinking of having a violent toothache or some
+other ill, when Miss Westbury suddenly made up her mind to depart.
+
+As soon as she had gone Mrs. Wyburn flew to the Blue Book, looked up
+Harry's address, and wrote him the following note:--
+
+     "Dear Mr. de Freyne,
+
+     "Probably you hardly remember me, but I have met you on two or
+     three occasions at the house of my daughter-in-law, Mrs. Romer
+     Wyburn. There is something I want to say to you which I hardly
+     like to write. I should be glad if you would come and see me
+     to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock. I shall not keep you long.
+     You may think this a strange request, knowing you so slightly as
+     I do, but when we meet, I am sure you will understand.
+
+                                             "Yours truly,
+                                             "ISABELLA WYBURN."
+
+Having written this note, Mrs. Wyburn felt too impatient to send it by
+post; she was simply longing to know that Harry was feeling
+uncomfortable, as he was very certain to feel when he got the letter.
+Although she had a great suspicion and general dislike of the Messenger
+Boy Service, she relented for once in their favour so far as to make use
+of them, and the letter was sent by hand.
+
+She was rewarded for thus conquering her prejudice. Harry was at home,
+and accepted her invitation with most respectful alacrity. His
+manners--especially on paper--were, with old and young ladies, always
+equally perfect--unless he was out of temper.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn eagerly hoped Harry would see Valentia, or somehow convey to
+her about the letter, because it would be sure to make her uneasy also.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The next day the young man was punctual to the moment. The old lady left
+him alone for a few minutes in the dark, dismal drawing-room. She
+thought it would have a salutary effect.
+
+She found him, when she came in, stroking the china bird, and looking at
+himself in the mirror above it.
+
+He received her with such charming grace that she felt almost
+disconcerted, and as if she ought to apologise.
+
+"You received my letter?" she said, rather abruptly.
+
+"With great pleasure. That is why I am here."
+
+He was still standing, smiling delightfully.
+
+"Sit down," she said, with cold graciousness. "I hope you are not in a
+great hurry?"
+
+"All my day belongs to you," he replied with a low bow, taking the seat
+she had indicated. He looked at her with soft deference under his long
+eyelashes.
+
+She found what she had to say more difficult than she had expected. She
+spoke quietly, in a low yet rasping voice, with a sharp dignity.
+
+"I will come straight to the point. To put it plainly, a report has
+reached my ears, Mr. de Freyne, which has caused me very great pain and
+anxiety--I mean, as a mother. And I wondered whether you----"
+
+"As a mother? Surely, Mrs. Wyburn, nothing against Romer? I'm sure I, as
+one of his oldest friends...."
+
+"Against Romer!" She drew herself up stiffly. "Most certainly not!
+There's never been a word breathed otherwise than in dear Romer's favour
+since he was a little boy."
+
+Harry appeared much relieved.
+
+"It's a great comfort to hear you say that. It's only what I was going
+to assure you."
+
+"Besides, do you suppose for one moment that if I had any fault to find
+with my son I should send for you?"
+
+She already had an annoying fancy that he was defeating her, laughing at
+her, and turning the tables.
+
+"It seemed certainly rather strange," Harry said.
+
+"No, indeed! When I say I was troubled as a mother, I meant it in a
+very different sense. What I'm afraid of is that dear Romer might be
+worried if he heard the report to which I refer."
+
+"And that is?..."
+
+She looked at him spitefully, yet with a reluctant admiration.
+
+He was irritatingly good-looking, good-humoured, and at his ease, and
+particularly well-dressed, without appearing in the least conscious of
+it. She wished immensely that he had been plain, or awkward, or even out
+at elbows, or absurdly dandified, or looked _nouveau riche_, or
+something! She felt jealous of him for Romer, and, at the back of her
+brain, she grudgingly and perversely sympathised a little with her
+daughter-in-law. Harry radiated a peculiar charm for women of all ages.
+He did not study them nor try very much to please them; the fascination
+was involuntary; he simply used it.
+
+"And that is, that you and my daughter-in-law, Valentia, were seen
+_alone_----" she paused a moment, showing a latent instinct for dramatic
+effect.
+
+He smiled a little more, and bent his head forward with every sign of
+intelligent interest.
+
+She spoke with emphasis.
+
+"_Alone_--the other morning--at the British Museum!"
+
+Somehow she felt the shot had missed fire. It had fallen flat. It was
+less effective than she had hoped. It did not sound so very shocking
+after all.
+
+He continued to smile with the air of waiting for the climax. She
+gathered herself together and went on--
+
+"I heard it from Miss Westbury, so it is a fact!"
+
+Harry thought of saying that he preferred an old wives' tale any day to
+an old maid's fact, but he only smiled on.
+
+"Of course, if this is untrue, Mr. de Freyne--if it is a mistake, or a
+false report, you have merely to deny it. Assure me it is incorrect--on
+your word of honour--and I will then contradict it in the proper
+quarter."
+
+He decided on his line. "My dear lady, pray don't contradict it. As a
+report it is a gem--it is unique. Not merely because it's absolutely
+true--for, as a matter of fact, I think most reports are--but because of
+its utter unimportance! It seems to me so trivial--so dull--so wanting
+in interest to the general public."
+
+"You think reports are usually true, Mr. de Freyne?"
+
+"I am convinced they are. I believe firmly in the no-smoke-without-fire
+theory. Oh, do you know, I think it is _so_ true!... This certainly is
+true--it's a solemn fact."
+
+"You admit it?"
+
+"I do indeed! Surely I could hardly refuse to go when I was asked?"
+
+"Oh, you were asked?"
+
+"Certainly. And Romer is really such a very old friend of mine, I could
+hardly refuse his request. I may be wrong, but I think one should always
+be ready to take a little trouble for an old friend."
+
+"No doubt you have very strict ideas on the duties and obligations of
+friendship! At _his_ request--my son's?"
+
+"Yes; your son asked me to go and escort Valentia."
+
+"It is very peculiar; you must see that your explanation sounds
+extremely odd."
+
+"Not at all odd," he answered softly, "if you will allow me to
+contradict you." He thought a moment. Then he went on: "You may have
+heard, perhaps, about the dance that little American, Mrs. Newhaven, is
+getting up at the Grafton Galleries for _Deaf and Dumb Dogs and Cats_.
+No? Well, every one is going, and they're arranging to have, by way of
+novelty, Quadrilles of different nationalities. Romer and his wife are
+to dance in the Egyptian Quadrille, and he asked me to take her to the
+British Museum to look round and see if we could find some inspiration
+for Egyptian costumes that wouldn't be too impossible. But when we got
+there, we suddenly remembered the awful story about one of the mummies
+being unlucky, so we went into the Print Room and remained there."
+
+De Freyne paused.
+
+"Of course, if that is all--if my son knows of your going, and even
+asked you to go, there's nothing more to be said ... though I think it
+very foolish, and I don't approve of any of that sort of thing at all."
+
+"What, not of Egyptian quadrilles, Mrs. Wyburn?" asked Harry, with
+surprised innocence and in a coaxing voice. "Why, I'm sure it will be
+frightfully harmless--in fact, very invigorating to the mind. It's not
+as though the dresses were becoming! We saw the most hideous things at
+the Museum. We met Lady Totness, who was dragging a wretched little boy
+about--I suppose as a punishment for something."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn smiled slightly. She began to feel rather inclined to relent
+at the implication that Lady Totness was hideous.
+
+"There you really are wrong, Mr. de Freyne. The boy was taken there as a
+treat."
+
+"A _treat_! For whom? For him? What a strange idea--I mean, to think it
+could be a treat to go anywhere with her, Mrs. Wyburn."
+
+"It is, rather," she acknowledged.
+
+"Well, then, if that is really all that was troubling you, I do hope
+you're happy now?"
+
+He said this with one of his subtle, insinuating changes of tone that
+were always so effective. Musicians will understand when I say it was
+like a change from the common chord in the minor to the dominant in the
+major. It was partly from force of habit, partly because he really
+wished to win Mrs. Wyburn over.
+
+"Of course, now you've given the explanation it's, _so far_, all right.
+You'll have a cup of tea with me, won't you?"
+
+"I should enjoy it particularly. Let me ring." After a minute or two she
+said--
+
+"But perhaps I might venture to suggest it might be better--more
+prudent--if you were to go about a little less with Valentia?... Of
+course, I quite see now that you're so devoted to Romer, and like a
+brother and so forth, but I can't help considering what people say."
+
+"Don't call Lady Totness people, Mrs. Wyburn! Think what a disagreeable,
+insincere woman she is--not a bit _femme du monde_, and so exceptionally
+stupid and spiteful!"
+
+Harry stayed with her for an hour, having tea, chatting, telling her
+stories against every one she didn't like, and speaking with a kind of
+tender and admiring familiarity of both Valentia and Romer, in a way
+that at once reassured and flattered her.
+
+Finally, she actually found herself begging Harry to use his influence
+with the young couple to be less frivolous and mondains, and not to be
+always going out, which he promised to do. She even confided to him her
+great wish that they had two or three children, which would steady them
+down, and he warmly agreed with her, but said that he felt that on that
+subject it was, perhaps, hardly for him to interfere.
+
+Of course he confided in her, in his turn, how frightfully hard up one
+was, with no one buying pictures, and outsiders winning all the big
+races after having no earthly chance on any form they had shown that
+season. Mrs. Wyburn positively tried to talk racing with him for a
+minute or two--rather pathetically--but soon got out of her depth and
+fell back on Art. She said she thought, candidly, that Harry's portrait
+of his cousin was a pity.
+
+They parted excellent friends, she even asking him as a favour not to
+tell Romer the reason of his visit. To Valentia he might mention it, as
+Mrs. Wyburn thought it might be a lesson to her.
+
+Harry professed, at first, some little scruple on the point. He scarcely
+liked, he said, the idea of concealing it from Romer. They always told
+each other everything. But Mrs. Wyburn was afraid of her son's
+anger--which she could not endure, unless _she_ was in the right--and
+of appearing ridiculously meddling. Harry owned that her conduct
+_might_ seem rather malicious and absurd. At last he consented, and it
+was agreed that neither of them should ever say anything about it to
+Romer at all.
+
+It is scarcely necessary to say that Harry kept his promise of silence
+to the letter. Had he not done so the story would at least have had the
+interest of novelty, for Romer had never yet heard anything about the
+expedition to the British Museum, and he never did.
+
+A week or two later, when Mrs. Newhaven's ball at the Grafton Galleries
+was described in the paper, Mrs. Wyburn, who read the account, observed
+that there was no reference whatever to quadrilles of various
+nationalities--Egyptian or otherwise; and she rather wondered at the
+omission. But it did not occur to her to suppose that this portion of
+the entertainment had been entirely imaginary--a lurid figment of
+Harry's vivid fancy and fertile invention.
+
+He left, it must be said, on the old lady a lasting impression--by no
+means an unfavourable one. Even when she had reason to grow seriously
+anxious again on the same subject, she never could bring herself in her
+own mind to blame Harry--she could not at heart think ill of him. She
+was only extremely angry with Romer and Valentia.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE FRIENDS
+
+
+Harry had baffled Mrs. Wyburn for the time. He always dealt with his
+difficulties one by one as they cropped up, not _en masse_, and
+invariably in a manner that relieved the tension for a short time
+only--he rarely did anything radical.
+
+His financial position was, however, growing rather serious, and
+occasionally the thought of Miss Walmer flitted through his mind.
+
+To marry Miss Walmer would be far the quickest and simplest way out of
+his difficulties, and she would really be very little trouble, as little
+trouble, perhaps, as any wife could be. Besides, Harry had, with reason,
+great confidence in his own powers of dealing with women--getting
+whatever it was that he wanted from them, and afterwards preventing
+their being a nuisance. But he did not much like the idea of this
+mercenary marriage, because he was not in the least tired of his romance
+with Valentia, and saw great difficulties in the way of keeping it up
+later on. He had worrying doubts as to her consenting to revive it
+afterwards if he married.
+
+Her grey eyes and soft fair hair with its dense waves held a lasting
+fascination for him. It has been well said that for each individual
+there exists in some other being some detail which he or she could find
+only in this particular person. It might be the merest trifle. Harry
+knew what it was in Val that had a specially compelling charm to him--it
+was the way her hair grew on her forehead. And there was something
+childlike in her expression that made a peculiar appeal to him. The
+power her face had over him was undiminished--it had begun seriously
+when he painted her portrait, and had grown gradually since then. And
+she was the only woman he had ever met whose affection for him did not
+cool his own enthusiasm. On the contrary, it was one of the things which
+held him to her most.
+
+In a sense he was even loyal to her. Harry was not one of those
+extravagant Don Juans who made conquests solely for the gratification of
+their vanity by adding to their collection. Essentially cool and
+calculating, he used his attractiveness only when he thought it would be
+of some genuine value to him, or some real satisfaction. As a Lovelace
+he was economical.
+
+Though a great connoisseur of feminine charm and beauty, and
+superficially susceptible and excitable, with all this, as many women
+knew, Harry was as hard as nails.
+
+Valentia was the only woman for whom he had ever felt, besides the
+physical attraction, a kind of indulgent tenderness. This was partly, no
+doubt, because they had been fond of each other as children, and because
+of a racial sympathy, a _sentiment de famille_ due to their
+relationship. But it was not really to be depended on.
+
+No one could be a more charmingly devoted lover than Harry. There was no
+one like him for little attentions and inattentions, charming little
+thoughts, caressing words, and the little jealous scenes that women
+value. It was not the mere mechanically experienced love-making that
+women see through and to which they often prefer a clumsy sincerity. It
+was natural, spontaneous. He had, in fact, a genius for love-making, but
+he had not, like Romer, a genius for love. Harry had all the gift of
+expression--poor Romer had only the gift of feeling.
+
+But notwithstanding Harry's magnetism, a woman once disillusioned by him
+was disillusioned for ever. Women never forgave him. His romances
+generally ended suddenly, and always irrevocably.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+Harry had no great love of truth in the abstract, but, at least, he
+never deceived himself. He saw through his own unscrupulousness, and
+rather despised it just as he despised his own work as a painter. He had
+grown really fond of Van Buren for the simple, sincere qualities in
+which Harry knew himself to be deficient; and the American's
+whole-hearted admiration--almost infatuation--for him gave Harry the
+pleasure one feels in the frank devotion of a child. It touched him,
+even while he intended to make use of it, because it was his nature to
+make use of everything. It is an infallible sign of the second-rate in
+nature and intellect to make use of everything and every one. The genius
+is incapable of making use of people. It is for the second-rate clever
+people to make use of him.
+
+One morning Harry had heard unexpectedly that he had sold a picture--a
+thing that rarely happened--and was looking at the cheque he had
+received, when Van Buren came into the studio. Harry told the news.
+
+"Well, Harry, I do congratulate you, with all my heart! What are you
+going to do with that?"
+
+"Frame it," said Harry. "It's the only one I've had for three years.
+It's a curiosity."
+
+The American laughed.
+
+"Harry, I guess what you're really going to do--you're going to give
+yourself the humble joy of paying some of the more pressing liabilities.
+I know you!"
+
+"My dear fellow, that would be mad extravagance! Oh no. You see, this
+cheque is--just enough to be no earthly use."
+
+Van Buren sat down.
+
+"Harry, if you'd only let me.... But I know that vexes you, so I won't
+talk of it. You're Quixotic, that's what's the matter with you." He
+smiled, pleased with the word. "Yes, Quixotic! I want to speak to you
+about your cousin--I mean Miss Daphne, the beauteous broo-nette."
+
+"Well, how do you think you're getting on?" asked Harry, who already
+knew from Valentia that it was hopeless.
+
+"Not as well as I should like, Harry. I can't say I feel I'm making any
+very great progress. She's a dream, but I'm afraid she regards me as a
+heavy-weight. She's only a child, really, I know. She would prefer a
+little boy of her own age who would make her laugh. Maybe she thinks I'm
+too old. What do you say?"
+
+"You must give her time."
+
+"I pay her every little attention that I can," said Van Buren seriously.
+
+"Perhaps you're too attentive."
+
+"I'd give her anything in the world she wanted, Harry, if she'd let me."
+
+"Well, give her a miss for safety."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Why--this evening you're going to meet her at a dance, aren't you--at
+the Walmers'?"
+
+"Yes; I'm looking forward to that."
+
+"Well, don't go--don't turn up. Then she'll miss you. Say, to-morrow,
+you were prevented."
+
+Van Buren began to smile.
+
+"I see what you mean. It's an idea. You do hand me some good advice! Is
+it what you would do yourself, Harry?"
+
+"It's what I'm always doing."
+
+"But then I don't like the idea of being rude. One always wants to give
+the impression of being well-bred, no matter what the facts maybe."
+
+"It won't be rude. She'll be thinking about you much more than if you
+were there, wondering why you're not."
+
+"You mean it will keep her guessing, Harry?"
+
+"That's the idea. I shan't say you're not coming. I'll pretend to be
+expecting you too."
+
+"Well, perhaps I'll try that. I know I've only got an outside chance.
+She counts me as one of the also-rans."
+
+"Are you really very devoted, old chap? Would you break your heart if it
+didn't come off?"
+
+Van Buren thought a moment, then said with his scrupulous truthfulness--
+
+"Well, no: I can hardly say that, Harry. I'm not so far gone as all
+that. But I think she's a very beautiful, charming, well-brought-up
+young lady--a typical English girl--a June rose, a real peach. She's the
+ideal of the sort of girl I'd like to marry. But if she's out of my
+reach--well, I should resign myself."
+
+"Would you try for some one else? There are probably about a million
+girls just like that, you know, who would be only too delighted."
+
+Van Buren shook his head.
+
+"She's the only girl I should care about marrying. If it doesn't come
+off I shall go back to New York. And I do wish you'd come with me. A
+fellow with your talents would do splendidly there. Why, I'd find you a
+place in the Bank in New York. I'd see you made your fortune pretty
+quick. But you'd never leave London."
+
+"I'm not so sure. Anyway, we'll give it a chance till the autumn."
+
+"Yes, I must see it to a finish."
+
+"If you don't settle down here, then, would you marry an American girl?"
+
+"No. In that case I shan't marry at all. I shall settle down to the life
+of a lonely bachelor--choose the broad and easy path that leads to
+single misery, Harry." He laughed.
+
+"Instead of the straight and narrow road that leads to married
+unhappiness," said Harry. "So you _are_ very keen on Daphne?"
+
+"Not exactly that, perhaps. But it must be her or no one for a
+life-partner. She's the only girl who ever made any appeal to me from
+the point of view of domestic life. When I think of a happy home and a
+fireside with her, it makes me curl like an autumn leaf."
+
+"What a curious chap you are," said Harry, smiling.
+
+"See here," said Van Buren, taking a letter out of his pocket. "I've got
+a letter from a lady--it's signed Flora Luscombe--but I don't seem to
+remember anything about her."
+
+Harry took the letter. It was written on mauve paper in a somewhat
+straggling hand, and was dated from "Dimsdale Mansions, St. Stephen's
+Road, North Kensington." It was a pathetic, yet cheery invitation to
+tea.
+
+"It's Miss Luscombe, of the Tank, as we call it," said Harry.
+
+"Oh, the actress? Well, I think I shall go, Harry. I've never had the
+opportunity of mixing much in dramatic circles. It's real kind of her to
+have asked me, I must say. I didn't even remember her."
+
+"No one ever remembers her. But it's amusing and absurd. You'll meet
+some of the people you like. Flora will show you round--point out all
+the obscurities there, and so forth. Oh, she's a good soul--old Flora."
+
+"Is she old, Harry?"
+
+"About twenty-three, or thirty-three. I like her, though she's rather a
+snob."
+
+"Ah, they say all Americans are snobs, Harry, but I feel sure I'm not.
+Still, if I really liked a man I can't say I should turn against him
+even if he had a title."
+
+"And if I really hated a person I should never get to like him, even if
+he had a bad reputation."
+
+Van Buren looked surprised and impressed, also delighted.
+
+"Is that a paradox, or an epigram, Harry?"
+
+"I can't think!"
+
+"Won't you tell me what it is?"
+
+"It's bosh," said Harry impressively, "mere bosh!"
+
+"Tell me what you really mean by it."
+
+"How should I know? I haven't the very slightest idea," Harry said,
+stretching himself.
+
+Van Buren looked thoughtfully out of the window.
+
+"How do you suppose our ro-mances will end?"
+
+"As badly as possible; romances always do," said Harry. "We ought to be
+only too thankful that they end at all."
+
+"Why, I'm afraid you're a pessimist! How do you define a pessimist,
+Harry?"
+
+"What a mania you have for definition, old chap! I think I agree with
+the little girl who said that an optimist is the man who looks after
+your eyes, and the pessimist the person who looks after your feet."
+
+"Why, that's very subtle. I quite see what she means. There's a lot in
+that idea, Harry." He thought gravely.
+
+"Is there? Well, come out to lunch."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A HOME CHAT
+
+
+"Yes, Romer, on the whole I don't think our season's been a success.
+With any amount of struggle, worry, bother, clothes, motoring, and
+making up parties, we've just succeeded in not getting Daphne married to
+Van Buren, and putting your mother in a perpetual, constant, lasting bad
+temper."
+
+"Have we?" said Romer.
+
+He was sitting in an arm-chair listening, as usual, while Valentia
+talked. He did not always understand what she was saying, nor did he
+even always know the subject she was discussing, but he loved to hear
+her voice, that was like an incantation in his ears. He said a few words
+occasionally, desiring that the musical sound should continue.
+
+"All our old friends seem to have grown dull and sensible except Harry,
+and he's been rather jerky and unsatisfactory--and all the new ones have
+turned out complete failures. When I say they're complete failures, of
+course I mean they've bored me. But, of course, it may not have been
+their object in life to do anything else."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Look at Mr. Rathbone--a man like that, tattooed, and collecting old
+programmes of theatres. Well, he's as dull as ditchwater, perfectly
+stupid and always saying the right thing to the wrong people. Then
+Captain Foster, who seemed perfectly harmless and only decorative, turns
+out to be really dangerous, and to count. He's in love with Daphne, and
+he has got his mother, who is very weak and foolish and sentimental,
+round on his side, and Daphne's always going to tea or to lunch there,
+and they've utterly spoilt her--at least, her taste in hats has gone all
+wrong, and she told me that Mrs. Foster had pink paper shavings in her
+drawing-room fireplace, and asked me why I didn't have them too!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes. And though she's very good, I know it'll end in our having to give
+in, and a pretty wedding, and a tiny flat, and utter wretchedness! And
+Daphne will get to like old Mrs. Foster better than me, and they'll have
+five hundred a year at the most; and even if they aren't really
+miserable she'll have to gradually grow suburban, and come up to the
+theatre and have to rush off so as to catch the last train back to
+Boshan or Doddington or somewhere! I mean if they take a little house
+out of town--near Mrs. Foster. However, I'm not going to give in just
+yet.... I could understand a slight sacrifice--or even a big one if I
+were in love with Captain Foster, but I'm not. I suppose you'll say that
+I needn't be, but that isn't the point. The utter absurdity is that all
+Daphne wants of him she could see now. No one minds her seeing him. But
+why should she break up her life and spoil her future for it? Of course,
+_that_ part is _his_ idea. He is so selfish that he isn't satisfied with
+the harmless fun they have now, but wants her to live all her life in a
+sort of workman's cottage or tenement building just for the sake of the
+joy, privilege, and honour of having every meal with him!"
+
+"What a brute!" said Romer mildly.
+
+"Isn't he? And suppose a war broke out, and that darling, handsome boy
+perhaps put an end to suddenly by a bullet, or mentioned in despatches,
+or something, and promoted--oh, please don't talk to me about it any
+more, Romer. I hate the life. But I suppose she'll have to go her own
+way."
+
+Valentia paused and looked pensively in the glass.
+
+"And dear Van Buren, he's been pretty badly treated, I think. I suppose
+he knows it isn't my fault or Harry's. I try to make up for it in lots
+of ways--by getting him an introduction to the man who wants to fly
+across the Atlantic. I really hoped he would say to Van Buren, 'Fly with
+me!' but he didn't, and in the most roundabout way and by the most
+fearful lot of trouble--chiefly through me--he was asked to dinner to
+meet that other man--I forget his name, the one who keeps on discovering
+the North Pole. And it seems he is a dear, and awfully good-looking. And
+then he--Van, I mean--has met Bernard Shaw, and Graham White, and Lloyd
+George, and Thomas Hardy, and Sargent, and Lord Roberts, and Henry
+James, and even Gabrielle Ray, so he hasn't had such a bad time in
+London. I don't see that he has anything to complain of, do you, Romer?"
+
+"Shouldn't think so."
+
+"That was what he wanted, you know," continued Valentia. "But if we
+couldn't get him a wife as well, it's not our fault. I'm sure we've
+tried our best. He's such a dear, and very fond of England. He has been
+most useful to Harry, I'm sure; and----I think the new fashions are
+simply frightful. The new way they're going to do the hair will be
+revoltingly unbecoming, and the whole thing will make every one look
+hopelessly dowdy. The smarter you are, the more of a frump you will
+look!"
+
+"Oh, I say, Val!"
+
+"Yes, you will--I mean I will, but I won't.... Because I'm not going to
+follow the fashion like a sheep. And if you're not very careful I shall
+dress in a style of my own."
+
+"Like a sheep! Do sheep follow the fashion?"
+
+"Of course they do. Didn't you know that? What one does all the rest do.
+Of course it doesn't change so often--even in the best Southdown
+circles--at least _we_ don't notice the change. When a new kind of 'baa'
+comes in and they all echo it we don't see any difference, but I don't
+suppose they see any difference in our fashions either. Oh, and Romer,
+I've been worried because I feel I've got so frightfully empty-headed
+and unintellectual through just _living_, never reading or thinking,
+when we go down to the Green Gate I shall read a lot of serious books.
+I'm going to read H. G. Wells, and Hichens, and Aristotle, and some
+history, and all sorts of 'improving' things. When are we going?"
+
+"As soon as possible," said Romer, brightening up. "Let's go next
+Wednesday."
+
+"Oh, I can't be ready quite as soon as that, Romer dear! Let's go on
+Tuesday. I'll arrange it all."
+
+"Good!" said Romer, beaming.
+
+"And I'll get Harry to come down with us."
+
+"Thought he was going yachting with the Walmers?"
+
+"Oh no, he's not, after all.... He doesn't really care for the sea."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Harry, of course, is sorry for Van Buren," continued Valentia. "And yet
+he takes Daphne's part about Cyril Foster. He knows it's spoiling her,
+but he thinks she ought to be spoilt; he's so fond of Daphne."
+
+"Why doesn't he marry her himself?" asked Romer.
+
+"Harry?" She looked at him in surprise. "Why, Romer, what a harpist you
+are. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, he never
+marries! Harry has a great many bad habits, goodness knows. But marrying
+isn't one of them."
+
+"Do you think he's keen on some one else?" asked Romer after a rather
+long pause.
+
+She seemed annoyed at the question, then smiled again.
+
+"I don't know! The other day I called at the studio unexpectedly to ask
+for something I'd forgotten, and found Harry improvising at the
+piano--you know that way he has of improvising from memory--an
+inaccurate memory--of some well-known composer. I've never known him do
+it except when he wanted to--please some woman. Well, Lady Walmer was
+there, leaning over the piano and listening. Should you think from that
+he's keen, as you call it, on her?"
+
+"Lady Walmer! At her age!"
+
+"Why, Romer, she's no older than anybody else! It doesn't matter
+nowadays in the very slightest degree whether one is twenty-eight, or
+thirty-eight, or even forty-eight. To a modern man it's all exactly the
+same. Of course, if a flapper is what is required, well then, naturally,
+he must be shown to another department. But apart from that--why, Lady
+Walmer would be quite as dangerous a rival for me as a woman ten years
+or twenty years younger. And I'm not twenty-five yet."
+
+"Rival to _you_? What do you mean?"
+
+Romer stared at her, a spark of his fanatic admiration showing in his
+eyes.
+
+She laughed and hurried on.
+
+"Nothing. I never mean anything. I know what you think, Harry is not a
+marrying man, but he might become one. But a girl like Alec Walmer! With
+the figure of a suffragette and the mind of a canary who plays cricket,
+or a goose who goes in for golf----"
+
+"Heaps of cash."
+
+"Yes, I know. But Harry's an artist--he needs sympathy."
+
+"He's got his head screwed on the right way."
+
+"But his heart's in the right place."
+
+"What is the right place?"
+
+"Don't be irritating, Romer. We'll go to the Green Gate on Monday then.
+And now I must go out and order a short tweed skirt, and a garden
+roller, and a few other things that we shall need in the country. Leave
+it all to me! No, I never forget anything; even your mother says I'm
+practical. And oh, do let's try and put her in a good temper before we
+go away. You'd better go and see her and say good-bye to-day, early in
+the afternoon, alone. And then I'll go in late and take away the
+impression of anything you've said wrong. Do you see, darling? Dear
+Romer!"
+
+She went out of the room like a sunbeam in a hurry.
+
+Romer followed her with a wondering expression. To him her movements,
+her hair, her eyes seemed to suggest some fascinating language he had
+not yet learnt. She seemed to him almost a magic creature.
+
+As usual, he showed his sensations simply by obeying. He went to say
+good-bye to his mother.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+VALENTIA'S VISIT
+
+
+Romer's mother, looking intensely cross--it was her form of deep
+thought--was re-embroidering, with extra little stitches, and
+unnecessary little French knots, and elaborate little buttonholes that
+would never see a button, a large and fine piece of embroidery on which
+she had been working for many months. She had that decadent love of
+minute finish in the unessential so often seen in persons of a nervous
+yet persistent temperament.
+
+She was expecting her daughter-in-law. Romer had said, "Val will look in
+this afternoon."
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+Valentia arrived, delightfully dressed, and, to the casual observer,
+looking just as usual, but in her costume there was just that nuance of
+difference--what was it?--extra sobriety, a more subdued look--some
+trifle that she had worn last year to suggest to the seeing eye a hint
+of praiseworthy economy?--at any rate, a shade that other young married
+women would recognise at once as the right note when calling on one's
+mother-in-law.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn greeted her with real pleasure, and with far more warmth
+than she ever showed to her son (her affection for him being authentic).
+The sight of Valentia, however, always genuinely raised her spirits. She
+was fascinated by her, and had an obscure desire to gain Valentia's
+liking, and even admiration--by force, if necessary! At the same time
+she felt jealousy, disapproval, an odd pride in the girl's charming
+appearance, and a venomous desire to give her slight pain.
+
+"Romer has been here, I see--I mean, I guess he has by the cigarette.
+He's the only person who's allowed to smoke here. Yes, Mrs. Wyburn,
+we're off on Wednesday. Won't you miss us awfully? But I shall be very
+glad to go. I've really had enough of the season." Val spoke with a
+shade of weariness.
+
+"No wonder! I suppose you've hardly had one quiet evening at home the
+last three weeks?"
+
+"Very likely not one. Even when we're quite alone Harry comes round, and
+often his American friend too."
+
+This was a challenge.
+
+Valentia was sitting opposite the light, dressed in blue, in a black
+hat of moderate size, looking straight at the elder lady with a smile,
+and stirring her cup of tea.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn admired her pluck and the fit of her dress.
+
+"Yes, exactly--just what I should have thought. You know what a horror I
+have of displaying anything in the shape or form of _interference_, dear
+Valentia. But, since you've mentioned it yourself, may I just say,
+doesn't it seem almost a pity that you should never be alone with your
+husband?"
+
+Valentia began to laugh.
+
+"Oh, really, Mrs. Wyburn, why do you assume that? But of course we're
+longing for a quiet time. That is why we're going away so early. What
+_delicious_ China tea! Yours is the only house where one gets it quite
+like this."
+
+She put down her cup, which was more than half full, with a slight sigh.
+
+"Romer hates China tea too," said Mrs. Wyburn. "It would be really
+better for your nerves if you'd drink it, my dear."
+
+"And when do you go to Bournemouth?"
+
+"The first week in August. So I shall be able to come down one day--as
+Romer asked me--before I go, and just have a peep at what you're all
+doing at the Green Gate."
+
+She smiled with grotesque playfulness.
+
+"Oh, that will be nice," said Valentia. "It must be looking lovely now.
+Did Romer say anything else of any importance?"
+
+"He never says much, as you know, important or not! He's very like his
+poor father, who really used to sit opposite to me for hours at a time
+without opening his lips."
+
+"A strong, silent man," murmured Val sympathetically. "I know so well
+what you mean."
+
+"Indeed you don't," snapped Mrs. Wyburn. "He was the weakest
+creature--_morally_, I mean, poor dear--that ever breathed. He was a
+very tall, fine man, but yet any pretty woman could turn him round her
+little finger! It was his most marked characteristic."
+
+"Fancy! Devoted to you, of course. Romer's often told me."
+
+"I'm sure he hasn't. What can Romer know of my domestic troubles, as he
+was just four when he lost his poor father? But however that may be, I
+do hope, Valentia, you will wear warm, _sensible_ clothes for the
+garden. I never quite like the idea of your sitting out on that little
+terrace late in the evening with practically nothing on your shoulders.
+People should be so careful of the night air."
+
+"How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Wyburn! But I have a wrap--I never sit out
+without a wrap."
+
+"Pink chiffon, I suppose?"
+
+"Now how did you know? You seem to have second sight!"
+
+"Yes; I guessed as much. Very candidly, dear Valentia, I don't approve
+of pink chiffon. But we women of an elder generation are never listened
+to, though our advice is worth hearing, I can tell you."
+
+"Oh no, Mrs. Wyburn, don't say that. What would you advise instead
+then--a red crochet woollen shawl? I'll get one, of course. How lovely
+that embroidery is getting that you're doing! I remember last February
+thinking that it was as beautiful as it could be, and now it is more
+wonderful still. Let me look."
+
+She bent down her pretty head to admire it.
+
+"Is it my fancy, or the light, or hasn't your hair grown a little
+brighter in colour lately, Valentia dear?"
+
+"Oh, do you really think so? I'm so glad. I was afraid it was just the
+same--just as it was in Harry's portrait of me, you know."
+
+"It does look very like the portrait. But, very frankly--you won't mind
+my saying so?--I think that if it were not quite so fair it would be an
+improvement."
+
+"Oh, naughty Mrs. Wyburn! Fancy your wanting me to touch up my
+hair--make it dark at the roots, I suppose, as so many people seem to
+do! Oh! I wouldn't! What would Romer say? He likes it like this."
+
+Before the elder lady had quite recovered from the blow, Valentia went
+on carelessly--
+
+"Daphne sent her love to you. She mayn't have time to come and see you
+before we leave."
+
+"Has she been going to any more fancy balls as Rosalind?" asked Mrs.
+Wyburn sarcastically.
+
+"No, oh no. There haven't been any more."
+
+"I heard a report--oh, only a report--that Mr. Van Buren is a great
+admirer of your sister's; indeed, it was even said that they were going
+to be engaged."
+
+This was really a sore subject to Valentia. Her temper began to waver
+slightly. It had been a very pet scheme of hers, and only Daphne herself
+had defeated it by refusing the millionaire. But of course she knew
+better than to tell Mrs. Wyburn that.
+
+"Oh yes, you heard that. I believe he does admire her very much. But I
+hope I'm not going to lose Daphne yet."
+
+Something in her expression warned Mrs. Wyburn, who said
+affectionately--
+
+"Well, there's plenty of time; she's _so_ young. I don't believe in
+girls marrying till they're sensible women and know something of
+housekeeping, and are fitted to deal with their servants."
+
+"I hope you haven't been having any more trouble with yours lately?"
+
+"Indeed I have! I had just sent for the housemaid to give her notice
+because she never dusts the lustres properly, when she turned round and
+gave it--notice, I mean--to _me_!"
+
+"What a blessing! It saved you the trouble."
+
+"On the contrary, if you knew anything of domestics, Valentia, you would
+see that it put me in a most awkward position--most awkward; and now I
+shall have to live at Mrs. Hunt's!"
+
+"To live at Mrs. Hunt's?" repeated Val, as if stupefied. "Why, you're
+not going to leave your charming house? And who is Mrs. Hunt?--an old
+friend of yours?"
+
+"Don't you really know who Mrs. Hunt is, Valentia?" Mrs. Wyburn's voice
+trembled.
+
+"No; I haven't the faintest idea."
+
+"She's a Registry Off----Well, may you never know! Certainly I'm not
+going to leave my house. The idea of such a thing!"
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ glad," said Val, getting up. "I'm afraid I must leave it,
+though. I have so many little things to do before I go. Now, Mrs.
+Wyburn, take great care of yourself, and I do _hope_ you'll get a nice
+housemaid quite soon. That sort of thing is so worrying, isn't it?"
+
+Mrs. Wyburn accompanied her to the door, and as usual stood on the
+landing with her, complaining of various troubles, and finally parted
+with caressing words and advice about going for country clothes to "a
+little dressmaker--quite near here--who runs up one's blouses and
+skirts."
+
+"Does she? Fancy! She must be small! Good-bye!"...
+
+... "What a woman!" murmured Val as she got into the carriage.
+
+"What a wife for Romer!" exclaimed Mrs. Wyburn as the door shut.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A SUGGESTION
+
+
+Miss Luscombe, humming a tune, was wandering round her drawing-room,
+arranging it. She always hummed a little tune when she was alone, if
+possible some quaint old French air. Not that she was really alone now;
+only her invisible mother was with her. To do her justice, Flora took as
+much trouble to impress this almost imperceptible audience as if she
+represented a large crowd.
+
+"There!" she said. She dusted a little blue vase and put it further
+back. "Now you're nice and tidy. No, you go back there, you ugly thing!"
+pouting at a photograph, "you're not wanted to-day! Come out more in the
+light, Lady Charles! We want you to be seen. _That's_ better!"
+
+From the depths of an arm-chair, where she was hidden, Mrs. Luscombe,
+who was watching her with intense irritation, said sharply--
+
+"Who do you expect to-day?"
+
+"Oh! how you startled me, Mummy! I didn't know you were there.... Isn't
+it funny, when you wear that dark red dress, _just_ the colour of the
+armchair, one doesn't see you?"
+
+She went on humming in the low, sweet voice, "_La violette double,
+double--la violette double-ra-ra._"
+
+"Pray stop that, Flora. My nerves won't bear it. Who did you say you
+expect?"
+
+"Mr. Rathbone, darling, if you _must_ know. Mr. John Ryland Rathbone, to
+be exact. You know he's one of the Catford Rathbones, don't you, Mummy?"
+
+"What's a Catford Rathbone?"
+
+"Dear mamma!" she laughed. "It's quite a good old family. One of the
+untitled aristocracy."
+
+"I thought you told me his father was a farmer?"
+
+"No, dear--that's a little mistake. I told you his father had _taken_ to
+farming--as a hobby. Besides, that's just what I mean--a fine old yeoman
+stock--the backbone of the country."
+
+"Why are you praising up this Mr. Backbone--or Rathbone--so much? Is he
+in love with you?"
+
+Flora laughed coquettishly, putting on her Russian Princess manner. It
+was voluble, disdainful, and condescending. She often changed, quite
+suddenly, from an _ingenue_ to a _grande dame_, and then to an
+adventuress and back again before you knew where you were.
+
+"Of course he's in love with me. What of that? Poor boy, he must take
+his chance like the others! '_La violette double, double----_' Oh, I
+forgot, dear. I beg your pardon."
+
+"What's he coming here for?" pursued the relentless mother.
+
+Miss Luscombe now became a soubrette of a somewhat hooligan type, and
+pretended to throw a little feather duster she was holding into the
+depths of the arm-chair.
+
+"That remains to be seen. But I'm a girl who knows how to take care of
+herself. I shall keep him in his place, old dear. Don't you worry."
+
+"I don't."
+
+There was a ring at the door. Flora blushed genuinely, and put some
+powder on. She became sweet and tactful again, and refined, the amiable
+woman of the world. She helped her mother out of the arm-chair, quite
+unnecessarily, but perhaps to hurry her departure.
+
+"You'd better leave us alone now, darling," she said, "and girlie will
+tell you all about it afterwards."
+
+Mrs. Luscombe ran like a hare through a side door.
+
+The servant announced, throwing open the folding doors, "Mr. Rathbone."
+
+In two seconds the feather-duster was behind a screen, and Flora,
+looking really very handsome--she was, as usual in the daytime, in
+semi-evening dress--was reading a little book covered in old vellum, and
+kept for the purpose of her being found reading it. She put it down and
+welcomed her guest charmingly.
+
+Rathbone, looking very fair and pink and rather determined, had brought
+with him a kind of case containing his collection of old theatre
+programmes, so that he gave the impression of being a diplomat of high
+importance with a portfolio.
+
+She helped him prettily to show her the programmes, and was pleased to
+see that there was something else on his mind.
+
+She gave him a cigarette and they had tea. He told her the ancient story
+of his writing to Cissie Loftus, and how he had never received an
+answer. She welcomed the anecdote as though it combined the brilliance
+of a jewel with the freshness of a daisy.
+
+Then he spoke in a somewhat thick voice and with that rather gruff
+manner that she associated with sincerity.
+
+"Miss Luscombe, I ..."--he sighed deeply. "To tell you the truth,
+there's something--for a long time I've wanted to ask you."
+
+He fixed on her intently his blue eyes, in which there was an ardent
+glare.
+
+"Really, Mr. Rathbone? What can I do for you?"
+
+"A great deal. The question is, what would you do for me?"
+
+"Oh, that depends," she said, smiling, looking down, and enjoying
+herself.
+
+"Not to put too fine a point upon it, Miss Luscombe----"; he stopped
+nervously.
+
+"Miss Luscombe sounds so formal," she murmured.
+
+"You wouldn't allow me to call you Flora, would you?"
+
+He smiled, but she thought he looked disappointed. Perhaps he was a man
+who needed difficulties--opposition.
+
+"Well ... I ... it depends," she said.
+
+"Look here, Flora, you're a very charming woman. I have a great
+admiration for you. What is more, I believe you to be a thoroughly
+good----" he hesitated again; was he going to say 'woman,'
+'actress?'--he decided on 'sort.'
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Now I'll reveal to you the dream of my life, which I wouldn't tell to
+anybody else."
+
+"I wonder if I can guess it?" she said, wishing he would hurry up. Lady
+Charles was coming at half-past five to get the address of that fur
+place Flora knew of, where you got things practically for nothing--and
+they were worth it, too.
+
+"I know I'm not so very young," continued the young man.
+
+"Why, you're only about thirty-four, aren't you? I call that young."
+
+"Do you--do you really? Now I was afraid I was getting rather too old to
+begin, as it were, a fresh life. Well now"--he came a little nearer and
+touched her hand, which lay on the table; it was a pretty hand, thin and
+bony, with pink polished nails and a garnet ring--"will you do it for
+me? will you help me? will you not think me foolish--too daring--too
+sanguine?..."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Yes. I see you've guessed. Yes. I want to go on the stage."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+MISS WALMER
+
+
+"And so you see, don't you, Lady Walmer, that I really simply couldn't
+do it--I mean I must do it. They're expecting me there for the whole
+summer. How could I throw them over at the last minute?"
+
+Harry spoke in his most convincing voice. He was calling on Lady Walmer,
+and they were both sitting in her little yellow boudoir. She had just
+come in from a bazaar, and was wearing a rather angry-looking hat, very
+much turned up on one side, with enormous purple feathers. She was
+looking very far from pleased. Her handsome chin appeared squarer than
+usual. There was a look in her eyes that more than one man besides Harry
+would have been by no means anxious to meet.
+
+She drew off her gloves, stroked one over the other thoughtfully, and
+said--
+
+"Why did you promise to come on the yacht? The whole summer's spoilt for
+Alec."
+
+"I hoped I could--I thought I could manage it. Surely you
+understand----"
+
+"But it's got to come to that sooner or later, Harry. You can't make an
+omelette without breaking eggs. If you want to be a respectable, dull
+married man, you'll have to dissolve your romance, you know. I should
+have thought you were the last person to be weak about anybody else's
+feelings!--No, it's your own, my dear boy."
+
+Harry's colour rose a little.
+
+"My dear Lady Walmer! I'm going to tell--my cousin Valentia--all about
+it--I mean about my hopes. I'm certain that she will be charming about
+it--only too glad, for my sake."
+
+"Oh! And yet I thought she was human! Or--is there some one else?"
+
+"Certainly there's some one else--there's Romer. She's very devoted to
+him."
+
+"Harry, my boy, we should get on so very much better if you wouldn't
+tell so many unnecessary fibs," remarked the lady.
+
+She stood up and drew the hatpins out of her hat.
+
+He said, "I'm quite frank with you. I don't think I've been anything
+else. And, after all, I only ask to do it in my own way--at my own time.
+To choose my moment. Really, one can't behave like an _impossible_
+bounder."
+
+"Oh, can't one? Well, perhaps not."
+
+She took the hat off and put it on a table, giving the impression
+suddenly, without it, of being smooth, a little bald, and very
+good-tempered.
+
+"Then you'll forgive me, Lady Walmer--you'll understand? I should think
+that in about three or four weeks I shall be able to join you somewhere.
+But, about fixing the date--that's impossible. Can't I see Alec to-day?"
+
+She smiled graciously.
+
+"Certainly you may; I want you to. You must cheer her up and say nice
+things to her. Poor child, I wish she weren't so ridiculously pleased
+with you. You don't care two straws for her."
+
+"I give you my word of honour that I will make her happy."
+
+"I suppose you'll make her as happy as any one would. It's always
+something to get one's wish, even if the wish is a failure."
+
+"Now, why do you say that? It won't be a failure."
+
+"All right. I'll send her to you. Now be a good boy, Harry. I'm
+jealous--for Alec--of the Green Gate." She smiled in her attractive way.
+"Will there be an absolute rupture between you and your ... cousins, do
+you think?"
+
+"Oh, good heavens, Lady Walmer, no!" said Harry rather irritably. "We
+shall all be perfect friends, of course ... what impossible things you
+expect."
+
+"I expect only what is certain."
+
+She went away.
+
+Vanity was as elemental in Harry as in any other good-looking young man.
+With him, though, it was not a mere useless pursuit--an
+art-for-art's-sake joy--but invariably calculated and used as a means to
+an end.
+
+He looked in the glass earnestly, then started as Alec came in.
+
+He was always surprised and even a little _gene_ each time he saw her,
+by her immense apparent height. It seemed so much greater than it was
+because of the somewhat monotonous lines of her figure and her rather
+bird-like face.
+
+Harry watched her, listened to her as she chattered away her hurried,
+inexpressive unmeaning slang, and looked at him with her bright, small,
+beadlike eyes.
+
+He did not appreciate her. He did not know that behind the jerky manner
+and inexpressive face there was a Soul.
+
+She had not been trained to talk sentiment, and she could not express
+her ideas; so, though she adored Harry, she only said to her mother in
+confidence, when in a serious mood, that he was all right; and when in a
+more playful frame of mind to her girl-friends, that he was a little
+_bit_ of all right.
+
+"Alec," he said, making her sit down in the lowest chair (he could not
+bear her towering over him), "isn't it a bore that I can't come on the
+yacht?"
+
+"Pretty useless," she answered.
+
+He took her hand.
+
+"You won't forget me while I'm away, will you, Alec?"
+
+"What do _you_ think?" she answered in a trembling voice, and then gave
+a loud laugh.
+
+"I don't think--I don't know."
+
+"Oh, shut up!"
+
+"Will you be just as nice when I see you again?" continued Harry, in a
+carefully-modulated voice.
+
+"Why do you ask me all this rot?" she said, with another uneasy laugh.
+"Of course I shall."
+
+"Good."
+
+Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. Then he remembered....
+
+"When I join you again I'm going to bring you a ring. What's your
+favourite stone?"
+
+"Rubies and diamonds," she answered without a moment's hesitation. "I
+say, how sporting of you! That'll be ripping!"
+
+He tried to feel touched by her artless joy. He knew he was not an
+ideally ardent suitor.
+
+"Well, we'll have a good time later on, eh?" he said in her own tone.
+
+"Don't be a silly ass!" replied the girl, her eyes full of tears and
+tenderness, and her heart of the most sincere joy and affection.
+
+Harry laughed.
+
+"Tell me, Alec, is your mother a soothing companion? Is she a nice woman
+to live with?"
+
+"Oh! _she's_ all right. A bit off colour sometimes. At least--well, she
+_is_ all right, if you understand--and yet she's _not_--if you know what
+I mean."
+
+"Ah! that is a dark saying. You are pleased to be
+mysterious--sphinx-like."
+
+"You _are_ a rotter, Harry!"
+
+"How subtle you are, Alec. How elusive is the lightning-play of your
+wit!"
+
+"_How_ much?"
+
+"The random poppy of paradox grows too often in the golden cornfield of
+your conversation," Harry went on, taking her hand.
+
+"Oh, rats!" exclaimed the artless girl. "Can't make out what you're
+driving at half the time, when you go on like that. Don't believe you
+know yourself."
+
+"Don't I? Really now, you know, we're almost--well--privately engaged.
+May I kiss you, Alec?"
+
+She blushed crimson, turned her face away, and said, "Please yourself."
+
+Unable to help laughing, he kissed the top of her head, told her to
+write to him, and left the house, feeling like an entirely new and
+recently-discovered kind of bounder.
+
+He hated the double game. It didn't amuse him a bit. But now he felt he
+was free for a month's holiday, during which he had, however, the
+unpleasant holiday task of breaking the news to Valentia.
+
+He was driving home, but changed his mind and called out to the cabman
+to drive to Valentia's house.
+
+He found her trying on furs--furs in mid-summer!
+
+She greeted the arrival of his exquisite discrimination and taste with
+clapped hands, soft, beaming eyes, and her smile--Valentia's smile. Miss
+Walmer couldn't smile at all--she didn't know how. She could only
+laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+MRS. FOSTER
+
+
+Daphne had come to say good-bye to Mrs. Foster.
+
+This lady lived in a kind of model cottage in a garden in Ham Common. It
+was not at all like the ideal, 'quaint' model cottages that one sees
+advertised by well-known firms of furnishers, though it might have been.
+Mrs. Foster was rebellious to Waring, and sincerely disliked anything
+modern.
+
+The little drawing-room, and indeed every other room in the house, was
+principally furnished by photographs and groups of her son Cyril--Cyril
+as a very plain boy, in a skirt, with hardly any eyes or hair, and a
+pout; Cyril as a 'perfect pet' of a sailor, at six. Then Cyril in
+cricketing groups (how he stood out against the other ordinary
+boys!)--in Etons (looking neat and supercilious), and then in his
+uniform, in which he looked simply lovely.
+
+Daphne had an intense and growing desire to please his mother. In fact,
+curiously, she was more anxious to gain her approbation than that of
+Cyril himself. To this end she usually remade her hats, when possible,
+in the train on her way to Ham Common, and her pocket when she arrived
+there was usually filled with artificial flowers, feathers, or other
+ornaments that she had taken off her hat, so as to look simple. Also she
+turned it down all the way round to make it look as if it were merely a
+protection from the sun--not a hat.
+
+To-day she wore a pink-spotted muslin dress and a straw hat, with pink
+ribbon. She certainly looked extremely pretty, and not at all what she
+had such a dread of before Mrs. Foster, smart. Mrs. Foster had a horror
+of smartness in the _jeune fille_.
+
+Daphne delighted her. She was a very sentimental woman, with a strong
+theoretical bias for the practical. She was by way of teaching Daphne
+housekeeping and how to manage on a small income (of which art she knew
+very little herself, but was supposed to know a great deal because she
+wore a kind of cap). She had a pretty, delicate, kind face, and was
+wearing large wash-leather gloves, in case she should wish to do a
+little gardening later on.
+
+Daphne had still much of the child in her, and there was nothing she
+enjoyed quite so much as gardening with Mrs. Foster, and occasionally
+stopping to eat a gingerbread-nut, and hear something about Cyril and
+the brilliant remarks he had made as a child.
+
+Mrs. Foster had a chiffonnier of a kind Daphne had never seen before,
+which fascinated her because such queer delightful things came out of it
+in the middle of the morning--slices of seed cake, apples, and the
+gingerbread-nuts. There were pink shavings in the fireplace, and
+wherever there was not a photograph of Cyril there was one of the Prince
+Imperial. Evidently he had been the passion of Mrs. Foster's earlier
+life. She loved to tell the story of how she had seen him at
+Chislehurst, and how she thought he had looked at her.
+
+There were other nice things in the cottage: there were two rather large
+vases of pink china on which were reproduced photographs of Cyril's
+great-uncle and great-aunt--one in whiskers, the other in parted but
+raised hair with an Alexandra curl on the left shoulder. In these vases
+folded slips of paper called spills were kept. A modern note was struck
+by the presence of a baby Grand--a jolly, clumsy, disproportioned
+youthful piano, rather like a colt, on which Daphne played Chopin to
+Mrs. Foster, and sometimes The Chocolate Soldier to Cyril; and Mrs.
+Foster, at twilight, sometimes played and even sang, "_I cannot sing
+the old songs, they are too dear to me,_" which her mother used to sing,
+or, coming a little nearer to the present, "_Ask nothing more, nothing
+more, all I can give thee, I give,_" a passionate song of the early
+eighties.
+
+No one, except Daphne, ever did ask any more.
+
+The whole thing was, to Daphne, a treat. Something in the atmosphere of
+Ladysmith Cottage--that was its name--fascinated and amused her.
+
+Mrs. Foster was a widow. Her husband had been a distinguished soldier.
+Almost the whole of her extremely small income had been devoted to
+Cyril's education, and with the assistance of an uncle who took interest
+in him, he had been got into the Guards, where he existed happily with a
+comparatively small allowance.
+
+Mrs. Foster had not been at all surprised or annoyed at his wishing to
+marry at twenty-two. She thought it extremely natural. It seemed to her
+very sensible of Daphne to accept him, and that she was the most
+fortunate girl in existence.
+
+"I hope your sister doesn't mind my taking you away from the gay,
+fashionable world for a day?" she archly asked.
+
+"Oh no, of course not. We're going in the country next week, so I wanted
+to see you."
+
+"Cyril's at Aldershot. I don't think he'll be able to come down this
+afternoon. He can't get away this week, I'm afraid."
+
+"I shall see him before I go," said Daphne.
+
+"Do you have a letter from him every day, darling?"
+
+"Oh yes, a few lines."
+
+"He is a noble boy!" said Mrs. Foster enthusiastically. "How he always
+hated writing letters! I remember how I guided his little hand to write
+his first letter to his uncle, General Rayner. Just as we got to the end
+of the letter Cyril suddenly jumped up and threw over the table. The
+letter was simply drenched in ink. Dear boy! I've got it still.... Oh,
+you must come into the garden, Daphne. I've something new to show you. A
+friend of mine has just let her house. She didn't know what to do with
+her dovecot--nobody wanted it--so she's given it to me. Come and see the
+dear little creatures--they are so pretty."
+
+They went out into the garden and stood looking at a sort of depressed
+pigeon-house.
+
+Mrs. Foster made strange noises, which she thought suitable to attract
+the inmates, and Daphne saw two doves who struck her as if they had
+married in haste and were repenting at leisure.
+
+"Why don't you let them go free?" suggested the girl. "Just think how
+happy and delighted they'd be."
+
+"I doubt it. I don't think they'd know what to do with their freedom.
+They're not used to my garden yet, that's what's the matter. I do wish
+they would coo; perhaps they will a little later on." (This was a
+favourite expression of Mrs. Foster's.) "I want to see one perched on
+your shoulder, Daphne. It would make such a pretty picture."
+
+"I'd rather give them something to eat," said Daphne.
+
+Mrs. Foster started.
+
+"Oh yes, of course. I fed them all yesterday afternoon, but I forgot
+about them this morning. Henry! Henry!"
+
+The smallest boy appeared that had ever been called by that name.
+
+"Henry, feed the doves."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then bring the watering-can. We're going to water the flowers."
+
+Henry, who seemed of a morose nature, went to obey.
+
+"I'm obliged to have a boy for the knives, and he acts as a gardener
+when I'm busy," explained Mrs. Foster. "There isn't much of a kitchen
+garden, only a few gooseberries and apples, as you know, dear, but it's
+nice to think they grow there, isn't it?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Of course, I can't make much show with them. Henry always eats them
+before they're ripe, which is _rather_ hard. But he's a good, honest
+boy. One of his sisters has gone in for making blouses--in the village,
+you know. She's a brave girl, and I feel sure will get on."
+
+"She must be! Have you ever ...?"
+
+"Oh _no_. Of course not. _I_ couldn't. When a woman reaches a certain
+age, my dear, a certain style is necessary. I don't mean great expense,
+but simple little things that would suit you, darling, wouldn't do for
+me. Now that little pink thing that you're wearing--I should look
+_nothing_ in it, and yet I dare say Henry's sister.... Where did you get
+it, dear?"
+
+"Well, it _came_ from Paquin's," said Daphne. "It's not new."
+
+"Oh! Well, we mustn't be always talking of chiffons together, that's
+very frivolous. You're fond of poetry, aren't you?"
+
+"Not so very," said Daphne truthfully.
+
+"But you would like to hear mine; I know you would, dear," said Mrs.
+Foster, nodding, and patting her hand. "Dear girl, you shall. I've got a
+tiny little volume, all in manuscript. It's quite a secret, darling.
+Hardly any one--now--knows that I was poetical. But I can tell you
+anything--you're so sympathetic. I had at one time a great wish to be a
+sort of--not exactly Elizabeth Barrett Browning, or Christina
+Rossetti--you know who I mean, don't you?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+"But a singer of songs--songs of feeling. Well, let us go into the
+garden. I will show it to you later."
+
+They sprinkled a few dead flowers, picked a few weeds, and then Mrs.
+Foster became thoughtful, took off her gloves, and went to her room and
+remained there for some time. She came down with a manuscript book in
+her hand. It had a shiny cover, and in the right-hand corner a piece of
+the cover was cut out. On the paper, showing through, was written in
+Mrs. Foster's delicate handwriting, "Fireflies of Fancy."
+
+"This," she said, patting it, "is my little book, and after lunch I'll
+read you some of the poems, dear Daphne, though I'm not at all sure that
+all of them are quite suitable for you to hear."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Foster!" Daphne found difficulty in believing it.
+
+"You see," continued the delicate-looking old lady, in her sweet,
+refined voice, "I was very much under the influence of the Passionate
+School--Swinburne, Rossetti, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and so on--at the time
+that I wrote. My husband never wished me to publish them. He didn't like
+them--he didn't understand them. I don't mind admitting to you, dear,
+that since I lost him I have sent one or two of the less--well--shall we
+say strongly coloured?--poems to the magazines at times, of course under
+a _nom de plume_. But they were all returned. I think they were
+considered too--well, too----However, I've given up the idea of making
+a name as a poetess now, and very rarely show them to anybody; _very_
+rarely."
+
+Daphne answered, with absolute sincerity, that she was dying to see
+them.
+
+After lunch, when they retired to the little drawing-room, Mrs. Foster
+sat down with her back to the light, and a slight flush on her cheek,
+and took up the book.
+
+Daphne sat in a low little crimson arm-chair exactly opposite her,
+clasping her knees, her brown eyes fixed with the greatest interest as
+Mrs. Foster turned and turned the pages as if unable to select a
+suitable verse.
+
+Then she began to read, in her soft, yet rather high voice, which seemed
+suited only to gentle greetings and adieux, or quavering orders to
+Henry.
+
+    "NIGHT TIME
+
+    _He glanced as he passed,
+    And I hope, and I quiver,
+    I howl and I shudder with pains;
+    And like a she-tiger
+    Or overcharged river,
+    My blood rushes on through my veins._"
+
+She stopped suddenly.
+
+"No, no, dear. I won't read this. Wait a minute. I remember now that was
+the one that was returned because it was too--er----I'll find you
+another one."
+
+"Oh, do finish that one," said Daphne, "please! Isn't the light too much
+for your eyes?"
+
+She jumped up quickly and pulled down the blind an inch or two, and then
+came back, having controlled herself.
+
+Mrs. Foster looked at her rather sharply, and took no notice of what she
+supposed was emotion.
+
+"Ah, here is something more suited to you, darling."
+
+    SPRING
+
+    A QUESTION, AND AN ANSWER
+
+    _Will all the year be summer-time,
+    And each night have a moon?
+    Ah no, the Spring will quickly go,
+    And winter cometh soon._
+
+    _And will your clasp warm mine like wine?
+    And will you love me true?
+    Ah no, the autumn leaves arrive,
+    And we must bid adieu._
+
+"That's a rather pretty thing, in its way, isn't it?" she said.
+
+"Very."
+
+"Here's one more.
+
+    A REMEMBRANCE
+
+    _Seems it well to see
+    A wild honey bee
+    Gold in the sun,
+    Ere day is done,
+    Sitting on a rose,
+    As the summer time grows._
+
+    _Ah, the bold, brave days,
+    Ere the glass of Time
+    'Neath the sun's rays,
+    Like a flame of fire,--
+    And the_ ..."
+
+She stopped again.
+
+"No, I don't think this is quite----"
+
+"Do, do go on!"
+
+Mrs. Foster looked at her.
+
+"You have a great deal of sensibility, Daphne. I believe you have tears
+in your eyes."
+
+"No, I haven't really." She turned away her head, nearly choking.
+
+A loud knock was heard at the front door.
+
+Mrs. Foster looked out of the window.
+
+"It's Cyril!" she exclaimed. "He's got away after all. Quick! Quick!"
+She threw the book under a cushion and sat on it. With trembling
+fingers she took up some needlework out of a basket.
+
+"Not a word--not a word! Go and meet him in the hall, dear. He's come to
+give us a surprise. I'll wait."
+
+Blushing and laughing Daphne ran downstairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+ENGAGED
+
+
+Daphne and Cyril sat in the garden together. The conditions seemed
+ideal. It was a lovely afternoon; the sun was hot, but a gay
+irresponsible little west wind stirred the trees; bees hummed
+industriously, butterflies darted casually about among the few flowers,
+and even the reticent doves cooed from time to time, condescendingly.
+Peeping through the blind Mrs. Foster thought the two young people made
+a perfect picture, and was reminded of the Golden Age. Indeed, they had
+very much the charming, almost improbable air of the figures in a Summer
+Number of an illustrated paper. Perhaps the conditions were too perfect:
+the lovers had, of course, nothing to sit on but a rustic seat--Mrs.
+Foster would have thought it a crime to have anything else in a garden,
+and rustic seats are, no doubt, picturesque, but they are very
+uncomfortable; they seem to consist of nothing but points and knobs,
+gnarls and corners.
+
+When Daphne was alone with Cyril like this she felt contented and
+peaceful at first, and then she began to wonder why she wasn't happier
+still--why she didn't feel ecstatic. She was proud of Cyril; he looked
+very handsome in flannels, his regular features, smooth fair hair, small
+head and small feet all added to his resemblance to the hero in the
+holiday number.
+
+Cyril said--
+
+"Dear little girl!" and took her hand.
+
+She laughed and answered--
+
+"Dear old boy!"
+
+Then he said--
+
+"By Jove! you do look ripping, Daphne."
+
+She smiled.
+
+"Jolly being here like this, isn't it?" said Cyril.
+
+"Isn't it?" she answered.
+
+"Jolly day, too."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Wasn't it lucky I was able to get away?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"It was a fearful rush."
+
+"It must have been."
+
+"Jove, it is hot!"
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"Darling!"
+
+"Dear boy!"
+
+"May I smoke a cigarette, dear?"
+
+"Yes, do."
+
+He lit a cigarette, and then put his arm round her waist.
+
+"Don't, Cyril."
+
+"Why not?" he asked, removing it.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Henry or some one might see."
+
+"What's Henry?"
+
+"A sort of gardener boy--the boy whose sort of sister makes kind of
+blouses in the village."
+
+"Oh, does he matter?"
+
+Cyril was wondering if he could ask for a drink.
+
+When they were left entirely alone, on purpose to be free, he always
+felt rather shy and awkward, and intensely thirsty.
+
+Daphne began to think about what time it was, and about her train
+back--subjects that never occurred to her when she was alone with Mrs.
+Foster.
+
+"I'm afraid I shall soon have to be going," she said.
+
+"Oh, I say! What, the moment I've arrived?"
+
+He tried not to feel a little relieved. He wondered why he hadn't more
+to say to her. He had been desperate to get consent to their engagement,
+and was always extremely anxious and counting the minutes till they met,
+and when they were together, alone after much elaborate scheming, he
+felt a little embarrassed, and, like his fiancee, was surprised he
+wasn't happier.
+
+"I say, Daphne!"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"You do look sweet."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"Simply ripping! I say!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Won't it be jolly when we're married?"
+
+"Yes; lovely."
+
+"It will be all the time just like this, you see--only nicer ... I say!
+Isn't it hot?"
+
+They sat holding hands, he looking at her admiringly, she feeling mildly
+pleased that such a dear, handsome boy should be so fond of her. In the
+minds of both was another sensation, which they did not recognise, or,
+at all events, would not admit to themselves. They both, especially
+Cyril, counted the minutes to these _tete-a-tetes_, and immediately
+afterwards looked back on them with regret, feeling they had missed
+something. They wrote to each other frequent, short, but intensely
+affectionate letters about the happiness these interviews had given
+them. Yet, while they actually lasted, both Cyril and Daphne, had they
+only known it, were really rather bored. The next day, or the same
+evening, Cyril would write to her:--
+
+"My own Darling,--How jolly it was having you a little to myself
+to-day! And to think that you really care for me!" and so on.
+
+And she would enjoy writing back:--
+
+"Dearest,--Didn't we have a heavenly time in the garden yesterday?" and
+so forth.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+As a matter of fact, they had not had a heavenly time at all; when he
+kissed her, which he sometimes did, she did not really like it, though
+she knew she ought, and it gave her a sort of mental gratification to
+think that he _had_ given this manifestation of love, as she knew it was
+considered the right thing.
+
+He did not really regard her as a woman at all, but more as a lovely
+doll, or sweet companion, and it pleased his vanity immensely to think
+he should be allowed this privilege, which at the same time seemed to
+him a little unnecessary, and even derogatory to her, though he enjoyed
+it very much too, in a somewhat uncomfortable way.
+
+The fact that their engagement was so indefinite, that they had hardly
+any hope of being married for at least two years, perhaps added a little
+to the _gene_ of these meetings. The instant they were separated he
+began to long to see her alone again. Daphne felt sure she must be
+really in love because she took comparatively little interest in
+anything that was not more or less connected with the idea of Cyril.
+Perhaps she enjoyed the things she associated with him more than his
+actual presence. Talking about him to Valentia, or hearing about him
+from his mother, seemed more amusing and exciting than sitting with him
+alone and holding his hand. She would have liked best never to see him
+except in evening dress at a party, only to hear about him or think
+about him all day.
+
+Cyril was sure that his feeling was real love, because he did not care
+two straws how hard up they should be when they were married, and
+because if he heard any one sing a sentimental song, however badly, he
+immediately thought of her with the greatest tenderness. He believed he
+missed her every moment of the day, and he took great trouble to see
+her, especially when there was a chance of their being alone. But, as a
+matter of fact, he was rather glad when Mrs. Foster came out into the
+garden; and when he had seen Daphne off at the station, although it was
+a pang to see her go away without him, it was perhaps also a slight
+relief.
+
+When Val came to meet her at the station, full of news about the
+extraordinary number of exciting things that had happened in the day,
+and they dashed back to dress for a dinner Harry was giving before going
+to a dance, Daphne felt a tinge of sentiment and regret for the idyllic
+happiness in the garden, and began to count the hours until they should
+meet alone again. The glamour always returned an hour or so after they
+had been separated.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+AT THE CARLTON
+
+
+With characteristic amiability, combined with that courage which had
+caused impatient people, who snubbed her in vain, to say she had the
+hide of a rhinoceros, Miss Luscombe had accepted the blow of Rathbone's
+proposal--the proposal which she had taken for an offer of marriage, but
+which was really an offer to go on the stage. She set to work at once
+making little efforts (most of which she knew to be futile) to arrange
+the matter. After all, if she should succeed in getting him some sort of
+a part, mightn't he, out of gratitude?... And she saw visions. Again, he
+had evidently got it very badly, this mania for acting and dressing up,
+and he had really quite enough money, if he chose to devote it to this
+object only; why shouldn't he take a theatre--make himself the manager
+and _jeune premier_, or, for the matter of that, _vieux dernier_--it
+really didn't matter--and let her be the leading lady? That was if he
+failed in every other scheme. She wrote letters to various people whom
+she knew on the stage, mentioning Rathbone's enormous willingness to
+take _anything_, his gentlemanly appearance, and, she felt sure, really
+_some_ talent, though no experience. Most people took no notice, but
+after a while she received an offer for him to play one of the gentlemen
+in the chorus of _Our Miss Gibbs_ in a second-rate little touring
+company of the smaller northern provincial towns.
+
+It was an excuse for an interview, certainly; but this for a man who
+wished to play Romeo! And if, in his enthusiasm, he should actually
+accept it, it would take him away from her. However, hearing that she
+had some news for him, he, in his delighted gratitude, asked her to tea
+at the Carlton.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+They were seated in the Palm Court eating their tea-cakes and sandwiches
+to the sound of "The Teddy Bear's Picnic," which made one feel cheerful
+and reckless, followed by "Simple Aveu," a thin, sentimental solo on the
+violin that made one feel resigned and melancholy. It was played by a
+man with a three-cornered face and a very bald head, who gazed at the
+ceiling as if in a kind of swoon--a swoon that might have been induced
+either by tender ecstasy or acute boredom.
+
+All around them were noisy Americans, neatly dressed, and a good many
+prim, self-conscious ladies on the stage who had come on from their
+_matinees_ and were accompanied mostly either by very young and rather
+chinless adorers, or by fat, fatuous men with dark moustaches, hair
+inclined to curl, and clothes a shade too gorgeous.
+
+Here and there a simple, provincial-looking family were to be seen who
+had come up for a few days and had been to an afternoon performance, and
+were talking with great animation of the rights and wrongs of the hero
+and heroine of the play. It was characteristic of the provincials that
+they were really excited about the play itself, hardly knowing who were
+performing, while the suburbanites took interest only in the actors, all
+of whom they knew well by name and reputation, even their private
+life--at least, as much of it as got into the _Prattler_, _The Perfect
+Lady_, and _Home Chirps_.
+
+On the whole it was a very characteristic London crowd, in that it
+consisted almost entirely of desirable aliens. Here and there, indeed,
+one saw a thin, slim, pretty woman with a happy but bothered-looking
+young man, both obviously English, who talked in low tones, and were
+evidently at some stage or other of a rose-coloured romance; but they
+were the exception.
+
+Amidst this noisy and confused clientele, with its showy clothes and
+obvious feminine charms, Miss Luscombe looked a strange, stray, untidy
+hothouse plant. She was odd and artificial, and dressed like nothing on
+earth, in pale and faded colours; but she was not vulgar. She was rather
+queer and delicate, and intensely amiable. Her self-consciousness made
+no claim on one; she was not exacting--always pleased and good-tempered.
+Rathbone recognised these qualities in her, and liked her better to-day,
+amidst the scent of the tea-cakes and cigarettes and the whine of the
+violin, than he had ever liked her before.
+
+Pink, fair, calm, clean, and really hardly anything else, except
+extremely correct, and always good form, without being too noticeably
+so, no one would have dreamed that this quiet young man, who looked like
+a shy subaltern, was simply dying to disport himself on the stage, and
+that it was the dream of his life to make an utter ass of himself as
+Hamlet, or a hopeless fool of himself as (say) the hero in _Still Waters
+Run Deep_--a play he had seen as a boy and had always longed to act in.
+
+She had broken the news to him.
+
+"Miss Luscombe, do you mean to say that is the very best you can do for
+me?"
+
+She explained the difficulties.
+
+He was only one of so many! Unless the name was known it was
+frightfully difficult--even for geniuses--to get on. Of course, he might
+try, and go and see the various managers himself, but, frankly, probably
+nothing would come of it.
+
+He was deeply depressed. What should she suggest?
+
+"Might I ask if you care very, very much?" she asked.
+
+"You might. I do." Yes. His heart was set on it.
+
+Was it really? Well, if he simply hadn't the strength to go on living
+another day without going on the stage, the only thing, clearly, was
+just to hire a theatre and _go_ on! A _matinee_, perhaps. Why not Romeo?
+
+"And why not Juliet?" said he, rather rashly.
+
+"Oh, that would be lovely!"
+
+Her attention wandered at this moment. A very pretty, fair woman was
+rising from behind a palm where she had been seated with her back to the
+room. She went out rather quickly, followed by a good-looking young man
+with a single eye-glass.
+
+"They have been trying to hide!" she exclaimed. "What a joke! It's that
+sweet Valentia Wyburn and Harry de Freyne. They must have been here when
+we arrived, for we should have seen them come in. I wonder what they
+came for?"
+
+"To have tea, perhaps?" suggested Rathbone, after deep thought,
+shrewdly.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know. But why hide like that?"
+
+"Perhaps they didn't want to be seen," said Rathbone brilliantly.
+
+"Yes, of course, but why not? I hope it doesn't show...."
+
+"Well, it shows there's nothing in it, or they wouldn't come here."
+
+"Does it?" said Miss Luscombe, rather disappointed.
+
+"Well, where's the harm in being here? Ain't we here?"
+
+"Oh yes, of course; but that's different. They're cousins, too, of
+course; I had forgotten."
+
+"I don't see why you should worry if Romer doesn't," said Rathbone.
+
+Before they left Rathbone had very nearly promised to see about engaging
+a theatre, and either for a charity or as an invitation _matinee_, rope,
+as he expressed it, all his friends in, lock the door, and force them to
+see him play Romeo to Miss Luscombe's Juliet.
+
+Flora was deliriously happy at the idea, but had too much experience to
+rely on it, and was quite prepared to be thrown over for another more
+professional actress, and asked to play one of the ladies at the ball in
+the first act instead, probably in a mask. She went home and read over
+her one good notice--a great treasure--that had appeared in an evening
+paper, and had spoken of her as "_a young actress with a bright and
+winsome personality_." That was in a very small part, ten years ago.
+Would she ever get another real chance?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+AT MISS WESTBURY'S
+
+
+Mrs. Wyburn found Miss Westbury being sensible and decided and holding
+forth about things in general to one or two friends over the tea-cups.
+Something in the way the old lady sat down and unfastened her mantle, so
+as to be sure to feel the benefit of it when she went out again, made
+the other women present feel that they were not wanted, and Miss
+Westbury did not attempt to detain them. For (though she would not have
+put it like that) she knew that she would get more fun out of her
+friend's _mechancete_ if they were alone. Scandal, gossip made tedious
+by morality, is only really enjoyable _en tete-a-tete_.
+
+"I do so hope, Isabella, that you haven't had any more annoyance about
+the silly things that are being said about your pretty daughter-in-law,"
+remarked Miss Westbury, leaning back with the comfortable amiability of
+a fat woman who expects to be amused.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn looked round the room.
+
+"Curious you never have your ceiling painted," she said. "I've often
+wondered why it is. It looks--you'll forgive me for saying so, Millie,
+won't you?--as if you left it in its present state from motives of, may
+I say, economy? But, of course, I know it isn't that--I always say, it's
+simply that you haven't noticed it. Thanks, no--no tea."
+
+Miss Westbury's serenity was slightly disturbed, as her friend intended.
+
+"I certainly don't spend my whole time lying on my back looking at the
+ceiling," she answered rather brusquely. "I have far too much to do."
+
+"I never suggested that you should," quickly replied Mrs. Wyburn. "Such
+a thing never occurred to me for a single moment. And please don't think
+I wish to interfere, or to make remarks about anything that doesn't
+concern me. It merely struck me that if, at any time, you thought by
+some curious chance of having the house done up, it might be a pity to
+leave out the ceiling. But that was all. I do assure you, Millie, I
+never dreamt of hurting your feelings."
+
+Miss Westbury laughed with a rather cackling sound--a sound Mrs. Wyburn
+recognised with satisfaction. It showed just the degree of slight
+annoyance she loved to cause in any one to whom she was speaking. Miss
+Westbury, however, waived the question and became hospitable.
+
+"Do let me persuade you to have a toasted bun. Our baker makes them in a
+special way on purpose for me. There's nothing in the world more
+sensible with one's tea than a small toasted currant bun. I was speaking
+to Dr. Gribling about it only the other day, oddly enough, and he quite
+agreed with me."
+
+"Why _only the other day_? and why _oddly enough_, Millie?--I dare say
+you speak to him constantly about it and about other equally urgent
+matters." She spoke with what she meant to be a slight sneer, in reply
+to which Miss Westbury behaved in a manner that is sometimes described
+as bridling up. She gave a movement meant to be a toss of the head and
+placed her lips firmly together.
+
+"I like Dr. Gribling, Isabella, because he's a thoroughly sensible
+man--a man you can say anything to."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn thought that Miss Westbury would say anything to any one,
+and she shrewdly suspected that Millie was probably the one gleam of
+amusement in poor old Dr. Gribling's dreary round. However, she waved
+the eminent physician aside and said--
+
+"About Valentia. She and Romer have gone down to the country, you know."
+
+"Oh, indeed! Quite early to go. Very nice. Have they a large party
+there, do you know? The Green Gate is such a charming place--so
+picturesque."
+
+"Have you ever seen it?" Mrs. Wyburn asked.
+
+"Only in the _Daily Mail_--I mean accounts of week-ends there, and that
+sort of thing. But I believe it's quite charming. It seems almost a pity
+though, doesn't it, at the end of the season to begin the same
+frivolities and gaieties all over again. I wonder they don't take a
+little rest."
+
+"I believe they are resting. Valentia wrote to me that no one was
+staying there at all, except, of course, Daphne."
+
+"And Harry de Freyne?"
+
+"Yes, and Mr. de Freyne."
+
+"Strange," said Miss Westbury comfortably. "Curious that extraordinary
+infatuation of your--son for this young man. But he's a very charming
+man, isn't he? Most agreeable?"
+
+"He's not absolutely unpleasant."
+
+"I suppose he brightens them up--amuses them? Probably he has very high
+spirits. Perhaps he has the _jar de veev_." Miss Westbury had a private
+pronunciation of foreign expressions all her own. "It is unfortunate,
+but do you know one often sees that in unprincipled people, Isabella."
+
+"He knows that he's not quite a gentleman, and is trying to laugh it
+off," said Mrs. Wyburn.
+
+"Does he really? Dear, dear--what a sad thing!--and yet he certainly
+_ought_ to be a gentleman, you know. On his mother's side he is
+connected with the----"
+
+"That's not the point," snapped Mrs. Wyburn. "And of course I don't mean
+to say that--outwardly--he's not. His manner and appearance are
+distinguished. It's the soul that's vulgar."
+
+"Ah, I see! You mean you're afraid he isn't one of _nature's_
+gentlemen?"
+
+"Nature? How do you mean? He has nothing to do with nature. He's a man
+about town."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon--I understood he was an artist. And sometimes,
+you know, artists are extremely fond of nature; in fact, far _too_
+fond."
+
+"I believe all that painting is only done to throw dust in people's
+eyes--an excuse for idleness. Candidly, I don't like studios; I don't
+think they're respectable."
+
+"I know what you mean; but still, after all"--Miss Westbury made a
+feeble attempt at a good-natured defence--"after all, if they all like
+it--I mean to say, if they're all so happy, why should we----"
+
+"I doubt if my son is happy."
+
+"Oh, really, really? Do you think he's _ever noticed anything?_ Isn't he
+devoted to Harry de Freyne?"
+
+"Of course he hates him like poison," replied the mother.
+
+Miss Westbury started in delighted horror, and replied sharply, "How do
+you know that? Did he tell you?"
+
+"Tell me! He would never tell me. Besides, he couldn't tell me--he
+doesn't know it."
+
+"And how do you know it?"
+
+"Mothers know everything," she replied.
+
+After a minute's pause, Miss Westbury said--
+
+"But if you feel sure that Romer isn't happy, and that he, almost
+unconsciously perhaps, doesn't really like this young man being always
+about, mightn't it some day end in some trouble--some explosion?"
+
+"It's quite possible."
+
+"Then I wonder what Romer would do?"
+
+"I know what he would do."
+
+"Good heavens, Isabella, you don't mean to say that he would ever bring
+a----"
+
+"It's really strange," said Mrs. Wyburn, "that at your age you should
+still be so silly. Will you never learn to understand anything at all?
+Of course not. He would protect her."
+
+"Can't something be done? Why don't you speak to Valentia?"
+
+"The advice of a relative-in-law in a case of this kind has never yet
+been known to be of any real use, Millie. I can only hope the whole
+thing may gradually wear itself out."
+
+"May it be so, my dear!" echoed Miss Westbury, unctuously.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn got up to go.
+
+Miss Westbury helped her to fasten her mantle.
+
+"I'm so glad you loosened it, or else you might not feel the benefit of
+it when you go out, Isabella," she observed, for she was not one to miss
+an opportunity of making a remark of this kind. "And _do_ look on the
+bright side. I always say that things of this sort may not be true, and
+even if they are, everything may be for the best in the end."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn liked to excite Millie's interest, and yet somehow loathed
+her sympathy.
+
+"Yes; do you know, I really _should_ have the ceiling painted, if I were
+you," she said, as if it were a new idea. "Otherwise your house is
+looking so nice--quite charming. I think it such an excellent plan not
+to have flowers in the windows, only ever-greens."
+
+"So glad you think so. It _is_ rather a good arrangement, because, you
+see, they always look exactly the same all the year round."
+
+"That they certainly do--and nevergreens would be a better name for
+them," spitefully said Mrs. Wyburn to herself as she drove off.
+
+"What a tiresome mood Isabella was in to-day," said Miss Westbury to
+herself. "I must go and see Jane Totness and tell her what she said....
+Ceiling, indeed! She _was_ nasty!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+A PROPOSAL
+
+
+Miss Luscombe was looking out of the window, looking up to the street,
+waiting. At last she saw from her basement (the "tank," as her friends
+called it) a glimpse on the pavement of a pair of feet that she knew.
+They were the feet of Mr. John Ryland Rathbone. She hastened to prepare
+herself for his visit.
+
+It is obvious that people who live in a basement must look at life from
+a different point of view from all others. The proudest of women in that
+position must necessarily see it _de bas en haut_. The woman looking out
+of the drawing-room or higher for the person she is expecting to see
+gets more or less of a bird's-eye view. She sees the top of a hat first,
+and the person necessarily foreshortened. From the dining-room or
+ground-floor window she sees the approaching visitor through glass, but
+practically on a level, almost face to face, and therefore is incapable
+of judging him on the whole or of taking a very large view, since any
+object placed close to the eye deprives one of a sense of
+proportion--shuts out everything else. But from a basement window things
+are very different. It is wonderful how much character one learns to see
+in feet, and it is still more curious how, to the accustomed eye, their
+expression can vary from time to time. Flora saw at a glance by the
+obstinate stamp, the bad-tempered look of his boots, by the nervous
+impatience of his stride, that Mr. Rathbone was coming to see her in a
+state of agitation. One would hardly have believed that, without having
+seen his face at all, she would be so prepared for his behaviour when he
+arrived as to greet him anxiously from the door, even before he came in,
+with "Good heavens, what _is_ the matter?"
+
+"How do you know anything is the matter?"
+
+"I guessed. I saw your steps."
+
+"Everything is going wrong about the play. The expenses get larger every
+day. To sell even _one_ ticket for a charity, they tell me, is simply
+out of the question! I must invite everybody, and even then most of them
+won't come. Just think, my dear Miss Luscombe, all this trouble, worry,
+and expense for amateurs to play _Romeo and Juliet_ at an invitation
+performance to an absolutely empty house!"
+
+"Why do you think it will be empty?... Your friends?"
+
+"My friends? You're my only friend! Every chap at the Club I have spoken
+to about it said they would be out of town that day. One or two said
+they would come on afterwards and join me at supper. Supper! I said it
+was a _matinee_; so then they suggested I should give a dinner
+afterwards. And even women, they're quite as bad. I mentioned it to Lady
+Walmer. She is always so keen on going everywhere, and makes a hobby of
+odd charities and things. She said she was going yachting that day, and
+also that she was going to a wedding."
+
+"What does it matter just about Lady Walmer?"
+
+"Nothing, but it's an indication. Do we want to have no one in a theatre
+but the dressmakers who made the costumes? Miss Luscombe--Flora! I am
+beginning to think we'd better chuck it."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Rathbone! The waste and the disappointment!"
+
+"It would be a greater waste to make an utter fool of oneself in an
+empty house than to postpone it. I'm nervous. I'm really frightened. I'm
+beginning to see that I've been a fool. As to disappointment, _that_,
+Flora, you could console me for if you chose."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Rathbone!"
+
+"You really have been so sweet, so patient, it's my opinion that you are
+an angel!"
+
+"Oh, indeed I'm not!"
+
+"Well, you have the patience of one. You never think about yourself.
+You're all kindness and sweetness and thought for other people. To speak
+perfectly frankly, you have only one tiny fault, Flora. And that is,
+that you seem a _little_ artificial. But it's my opinion that such
+affectations as you have are natural to you and you can't help them, and
+you would be an ideal wife."
+
+Flora was actually silent with gratification. She did not even laugh.
+
+"Look here, Flora, we'd better chuck the performance altogether. Let's
+give it up, and have a show instead at St. George's, Hanover Square."
+
+"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, in a trembling voice, "because
+that would not be right. It wouldn't be nice of you--in fact, it would
+be rather cruel."
+
+"You don't mean to say you care for me the least little bit?" He took
+both her hands and stared hard at her face. "Is there something real
+about you then?" he continued.
+
+Tears came to her eyes. She turned her head away.
+
+"This seems too good to be true," she murmured.
+
+"Let's be married," he cried, "on the day we were going to have the
+show. Let's go to Oberammergau for our honeymoon, and don't let us ever
+go near the theatre again. Will you, dear? Or am I dreaming?"
+
+"Of course. I always have," she answered ingenuously; "but I hadn't a
+scrap of hope, and I didn't know how much I cared for you."
+
+"Dear Flora, I shall give up the stage and devote all my time to you."
+
+"So will I," she said. "I shall never want to act again."
+
+"Nor I, never--never!"
+
+"I shall rush home and countermand everything," he cried.
+
+"Oh, go not yet; it is not yet near day," she quoted in the tender voice
+she used for recitation.
+
+He burst into peals of laughter, and put his arms round her and kissed
+her impetuously.
+
+"Oh, Flora, what a fool I have been all this time! And you knew it--you
+knew it perfectly well. I thought when we were rehearsing that once you
+said the words, 'O Romeo, wherefore art _thou_ Romeo?' with rather
+marked emphasis on the 'thou'...."
+
+"Do you know that I never cared for any one but you in my life, Flora?"
+
+"Oh, oh! Why is 'C. L.' tattooed on your wrist?"
+
+"I'll have it taken out. I'll have Flora put on instead. I'll have
+anything you like tattooed in your honour--a hunting scene, a snap-shot
+of the Coronation--anything you like."
+
+"No, please not. I don't like it; I can't bear it. It's the only thing I
+ever haven't liked about you. But we'll forget it now, won't we?" she
+said.
+
+"And I'll forget the stage. Oh, Flora, how I have worried you! Forgive
+me. We won't think of anything but each other now."
+
+They repeated this sentiment again and again in these and other words
+for about an hour and a half, and forgot to turn up lights and ring the
+bell.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The first real love scene Flora had ever acted in was a triumphant
+success.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+HEREFORD VAUGHAN
+
+
+To have eleven plays, all written out of one's own head, and all being
+performed simultaneously in American, in Eskimo, and even in Turkish,
+besides in every known European language; to have money rolling in, and
+the strange world of agents and managers pursuing you by every post and
+imploring for more contracts by every Marconigram; and these triumphs to
+have come quite suddenly, was really enough to have turned the head of
+any young man; yet Hereford Vaughan's (known by his very few intimate
+friends as Gillie) had remained remarkably calm. He was not even
+embittered by success.
+
+To know his jokes were being got over the footlights of so many lands
+was a curious sensation, and it often made him laugh suddenly to reflect
+how wicked certain quips must sound in, say, Japanese. Perhaps his
+friends were rather inclined to resent the way he retained his balance
+after what was really an almost unheard-of hit. They would have been
+readier to pardon it had he shown some sign of boring fatuity; or
+perhaps they thought he might at least have had a temporary nervous
+breakdown; taking the form (for choice) of losing all sense of the value
+of money and wildly throwing bank-notes and gold at every one he saw.
+But he remained quiet, reserved, and as apparently modest as ever.
+
+Modesty is a valuable merit (as I think Schopenhauer has discovered) in
+people who have no other, and the appearance of it is extremely useful
+to those who have, but I am not suggesting that Vaughan was not human,
+and there was, no doubt, many a moment when he smiled to himself, and
+felt that he was a great man.
+
+He was rather secretive and mysterious than blatant or dashing, and
+this, of course, made him, on the whole, more interesting to women. The
+fact that he had made a fortune and lived alone in a charming house with
+nothing but housekeepers, secretaries, telephones, typewriters, and
+cooks, of course made all the women of his acquaintance who had the
+match-making instinct (and what woman has not?) desire to see him
+married. As he showed no sign of doing so, they tried to console
+themselves by pretending that he had some secret romance. Old ladies
+hoped he had a broken heart for some fiancee who was lying under the
+daisies, having died of decline in the classical middle-Victorian way.
+Young ladies thought that he was probably fixed up in some way that
+would be sure in time to dissolve, and that he would marry later on. Far
+the most popular theory was that he didn't marry simply because he _was_
+married, privately; and that he had, no doubt, hurriedly espoused,
+before he was of age (and before the Registrar), some barmaid or
+chorus-girl, or other dreadful person, who had turned out far too
+respectable to divorce, and that he was thus a young man marred. They
+had no grounds for the rumour except that clever and promising young men
+often did these things, and he had always been a particularly promising
+young man, and in this unfortunate case had probably kept his promise.
+
+Vaughan was sitting one morning reading his notices (never believe the
+greatest men when they tell you that they don't do that!), when Muir
+Howard came cheerily, almost boisterously, into the room. He was an old
+school friend who had been devoted to Gillie long before his arrival,
+and of whose faults, virtues, cheeriness, and admiration Vaughan had
+made a confirmed habit.
+
+Muir was a very good-looking barrister, with vague parliamentary
+ambitions and a definite love of machinery. He always had pink cheeks,
+and wore a pink carnation, and looked as flourishing, gay, and yet,
+somehow, battered, as Vaughan looked pale, fresh, and sardonic. One of
+the things that surprised the general public was that Vaughan could not
+live without the continuous society of a person who certainly could not
+understand a word he wrote or much that he said. They didn't realise
+that Vaughan was so accustomed to not listening to Muir's long
+confidences, to disputing every proposition he made, and contradicting
+every word he said, that he always felt lost when his friend was away.
+Muir regarded him as a combination of hero, genius, pet, and child, and
+was always giving him advice and imploring him not to do too much. To
+Vaughan he was, as I have said, a habit, and there is always something
+agreeable in a habit of which one is a little tired.
+
+He had arrived this morning on his bicycle, and came in bringing a whiff
+of heartiness, self-complacency, and fresh air, saying, "Hallo! hallo!
+hallo! Priceless to find you in, Gillie!" All he got for it was that
+Vaughan looked up and said--
+
+"You used to be only breezy. Now you're becoming a thorough draught.
+Fold up and keep quiet, can't you?"
+
+"Nervous, I suppose," said Muir, in a sympathetic voice. "I wonder you
+don't take that stuff that you see in the papers about what is good
+for----"
+
+"Sudden pains in the back on washing-day, bending over the tub, and so
+forth? The portraits of the people before taking the remedy and after
+decided me. It seems, by the pictures, to make your hair grow long and
+give you whiskers and a ghastly squint. Ruins your clothes, too. Your
+collars get the wrong shape."
+
+"Oh well, leave it alone, then. Perhaps you're right.... You haven't
+asked me about the Walmers' dance. I took Miss de Freyne to supper. The
+American chap never turned up, and I was getting on with her simply
+rippingly, when _what_ do you think she said? Confided in me that she
+was privately engaged to and frightfully keen on that boy you met at
+Harry's. The baby Guardsman. Isn't it sickening?"
+
+"What did Miss Walmer do?" asked Vaughan.
+
+"She sort of hung about, waiting for Harry, who seemed to be getting on
+all right with the two strings to his bow, or two stools, or two bundles
+of hay, or whatever it is. What luck some people have!"
+
+"Not in this case. He'll lose them both."
+
+"Really? Why?"
+
+"He's not a diplomatist, and he wants such a lot for himself. He wants
+too much. No self-restraint."
+
+"Pretty useless for Mrs. Wyburn. I like her. She looked topping last
+night, too. But I dare say it'll be all right. Romer's a good chap.
+Awfully dull."
+
+"Most interesting. Are you going to stay here much longer, Muir?"
+
+"Why? Yes."
+
+Vaughan got up.
+
+"All right. Do. I'm going out."
+
+"Where?"
+
+Vaughan did not answer, but gave the heap of notices to his friend, and
+said--
+
+"Just divide the sheep and goats for me, will you? That's just what they
+are, the critics--either sheep or goats."
+
+"Of course I will. But, I say--I came here to have a talk."
+
+"I know you did. You have talked."
+
+He went out. Muir smiled to himself, enjoying this treatment as an
+eccentricity of genius.
+
+Five minutes later Gillie came back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+GILLIE INTERFERES
+
+
+He was not much surprised to find Muir proudly examining the invitation
+cards on the mantelpiece. Muir started and turned round as he came in.
+
+"Back again? Capital!"
+
+"Well, of all the snobs!" said Vaughan.
+
+"Hang it, Gillie, it's only for you. I'm pleased you're getting on,
+that's all."
+
+"No words can tell you how I despise your point of view. Just tell me
+something I want to know. Wasn't there a sort of little scene at this
+dance last night?"
+
+"I didn't see anything," he answered.
+
+"You never do."
+
+"Oh, I remember now, I heard something. It appears that Romer left his
+wife and Daphne at the dance and then came back in an hour to fetch
+them, and she wasn't there."
+
+"Who wasn't where?"
+
+"Val and Harry had gone for a little fresh air in a taxi for about a
+quarter of an hour, that's all. They came back and explained it."
+
+"They would. Don't apologise."
+
+"But just the few minutes that Romer was looking for them made--well,
+rather a fuss. It was perfectly all right afterwards. They all had
+supper together. So there wasn't much talk about it, except, as I say,
+while Romer was waiting for them. I never in my life saw any one look so
+ghastly as that chap did."
+
+Vaughan sat down and looked thoughtful.
+
+"Only you, Muir, would leave out the only thing of the slightest
+importance that you had to tell me, which I hear the second I leave the
+house from that round-faced tattooed idiot, Rathbone, at the corner of
+the street."
+
+"But I tell you it's all right, old chap."
+
+"All right? Don't you see that this sort of thing constantly happening
+will gradually undermine ...? I like Valentia. It's a great shame."
+
+"Harry certainly isn't worth smashing up a happy home for," Muir
+answered, "if that's what you're afraid of. But ... when he marries Miss
+Walmer it'll be all right. Val will forget about him, and settle down
+with Romer again. I'm deeper than you think, Gillie ... ah, I don't say
+much, but I can see as far through a brick wall as most people!"
+
+"Just about as far, I should think," said Vaughan contemptuously.
+
+"What do you propose to do about it?"
+
+"It's likely I'd tell you." Gillie sat down to his desk and rang a bell.
+
+"I suppose I've got to go now, eh?"
+
+"Almost time, I should think."
+
+"Ha, ha, ha! Capital! Well, so long! Be good."
+
+Muir went away as heartily as he had arrived.
+
+The bell was answered by the entrance of the housekeeper, Mrs. Mills.
+She was a muddle-headed, elderly woman in black silk, whom Vaughan kept
+because her extraordinary tactlessness amused him. She invariably
+managed to do and say the wrong thing at the right time. To-day it was a
+hot morning in July. She came in holding in her hand a little card
+covered with frost and robins.
+
+"Mr. Vaughan, sir, I appened to be going through my things, and I come
+across this, sir. I thought pre-aps you'd like it. It is pretty."
+
+She insisted on his taking it.
+
+"Charming, Mrs. Mills, but I don't quite see----"
+
+"Oh, look at the words, sir! They're what I call so appropriate! Do read
+them."
+
+He read the beautiful words--
+
+     _Wishing you a blithe and gladsome Yule._
+
+"What on earth----?"
+
+"Well, sir, I only thought they was pretty, and pre-aps you'd like to
+keep it, sir, or send it to one of your young ladies; but I'll take it
+away if you don't like it." She put it back in her pocket.
+
+"Frankly, I don't. What a genius you have for the wrong thing! Are you
+going to give me plum pudding and turkey on Midsummer Day?"
+
+"I shouldn't dream of such a thing, sir."
+
+Gillie had scribbled a letter.
+
+"Go and ring up a messenger boy, will you?"
+
+"May I send Johnson, sir? I don't old with telephones. They buzz at you
+or makes you jump. And the young person keeps on saying ave you got
+them? before you've ad time to breathe, in a manner of speaking."
+
+She took the note. Vaughan sat down on a sofa to wait for the answer,
+glanced at the clock, and said, "Confound Muir! He's made me waste
+another morning."
+
+When the answer came, Gillie went out and strolled towards Mount Street.
+
+He found Valentia at home, evidently flattered and fluttered at seeing
+him.
+
+"How sweet of you to come!" she said.
+
+"You'll stay to lunch, of course?"
+
+"I'm afraid I can't."
+
+"Oh! lunching with a leading lady, I suppose?"
+
+"No."
+
+"With whom?"
+
+"With Romeike and Curtice."
+
+"Not really? What fun! What are they like?"
+
+"Oh, Romeike is all right. I don't care so much about Curtice."
+
+She gave him a cigarette.
+
+"I never in my life," said Vaughan, "before to-day, attempted to
+interfere in anybody else's affairs."
+
+She stared at him.
+
+"But in this case it--may I really smoke?--does seem such a pity! Of
+course you know what I mean, don't you?"
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"You see, I feel so certain that if you were, let's say--married to
+_Harry_ and met Romer after, you'd be so wildly in love with Romer."
+
+"So I was," she said in a low voice. "Tremendously! I thought he was a
+strong silent man with a great deal in him.... Oh! I've told you."
+
+"Yes, but so he is. It's commonplace of you, really, Val, not to see
+it."
+
+"I'm awfully sorry.... I do love Romer, and I think I appreciate him.
+But somehow it's a little dull. It's not exciting as I thought it would
+be."
+
+"Well! if you _must_ have fun, and amusement, and make a hero of
+somebody, why just Harry? Why not a superior man? Me, for instance?"
+
+He was laughing.
+
+"I've been told that an adoration for you would be hopeless, utterly
+hopeless." She smiled. "And we're friends. I can't imagine----"
+
+"Nor I. Of course I know it's utterly absurd to come and give people
+advice on these subjects, and one can't dispute about tastes and all
+that. But my practical mind revolts to see any one so delightful as you
+throwing away the substance for the shadow. You see, I'm a mass of
+platitudes."
+
+"Shadows are very attractive sometimes."
+
+"But they go away too. And then where are you?"
+
+She was silent.
+
+"They do, really. I know what I'm talking about." He stood up. "Think
+over what I've said."
+
+"You're kind, but you're rather depressing, Gillie," said Val. She
+looked a little frightened, but very pretty.
+
+"When do you go back to the country?"
+
+"Oh, to-day. We're there now. We only came up for the dance. We're
+motoring down to the Green Gate.... All of us."
+
+"Oh yes.... I'm afraid you must think me very impertinent."
+
+"Indeed I don't."
+
+"And when I've gone you will give orders that you're never at home to me
+again. But, somehow, I couldn't help it. If it makes you hate me to
+remember what I've said, forget it."
+
+She laughed as he rose to go.
+
+"That's all right, Gillie; but what I want to know is, where you're
+really going."
+
+"I'll tell you, exactly. I'm going home to lunch, because I've an urgent
+appointment immediately afterwards."
+
+"More plays, I suppose? What sort this time?"
+
+"A light comedy, with a very slight love interest," he answered, "all
+dialogue, no action.... At least, so far."
+
+"Oh, then it isn't finished yet?"
+
+"Not quite. Good-bye. And if you ever want a change, remember--a
+_superior_ man!"
+
+They both laughed insincerely.
+
+He left her looking thoughtfully out of the window.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+THE BALD-FACED STAG
+
+
+Vaughan went home, and after lunching, chiefly on a newspaper and a cup
+of coffee, he got into a taxicab and gave a direction.
+
+The vehicle flew smoothly along down Park Lane, past the Marble Arch
+into the Edgware Road, and on from there between houses and shops,
+growing gradually uglier and uglier, to Maida Vale, up Shoot-up Hill,
+and so on until there was a glimpse of suburban country, and gasworks,
+and glaring posters of melodramas on hoardings, till it stopped suddenly
+at a real little old roadside inn, straight out of Dickens--"The
+Bald-faced Stag at Edgware." Edgware suggested _John Gilpin_, Gillie's
+favourite poem.
+
+Here he got out, and was positively welcomed, and heartily, by a real
+roadside innkeeper--also out of Dickens--resembling the elder Weller--a
+local magnate called Tom Brill, who looked a relic of the coaching days,
+though really he never did anything but stand in front of the inn in
+his shirt-sleeves and welcome people.
+
+Vaughan, obviously an habitue, walked through the inn into a perfectly
+adorable garden, which was so large, so quiet, and so full of pinks,
+hollyhocks, and other old-fashioned flowers, so absolutely peaceful and
+sleepy, that one could have imagined oneself miles away in the country.
+
+The garden belonged as much to the Dickens period as the inn itself. It
+contained a great many wooden arbours in which one could imagine ladies
+in crinolines archly accepting tea, or refusing sips of shrub (whatever
+that may be) with whiskered gentlemen. There was a large cage full of
+Persian pheasants with gorgeous Indian colouring, which always suggested
+to Vaughan--he didn't know why--the Crimean War. There was a parlour
+covered with coloured prints of racehorses and boxing matches, and in
+which was a little round table painted as a draught-board, and furnished
+with a set of Indian chessmen of red and white ivory. The whole thing,
+though only twenty minutes' drive from Mayfair, was unknown, unspoilt,
+and apparently had not altered in any particular since about 1856. Its
+great charm was that it was utterly unself-conscious; it had no idea
+that it was quaint.
+
+Vaughan sat down on a rustic seat and plunged into the atmosphere of the
+period that he loved, revelling in the soothing, delightful calm, and in
+the fact that nobody there knew who he was (though they knew him well by
+name), and that none of his friends and acquaintances would have dreamt
+that he was there.
+
+A large field beyond the garden contained cows, hay, and other rustic
+things.
+
+Presently Tom Brill came up to him, and he asked after Mrs. Brill, whom
+her husband always described, with confidential pride, as "Though I say
+it that shouldn't say it, as fine a woman as you'll meet in a day's
+march."
+
+Vaughan always assented to this proposition. As he had never himself in
+his life been for a day's march, and probably never would, he certainly
+would have had no right to contradict Mr. Brill on the subject.
+
+"Is Miss Brill at home?" he presently asked. "May I see her?"
+
+"Certainly, sir, of course you shall. She's helping her mother. I'll
+call her. Don't move, sir, don't move."
+
+Miss Brill, who had been helping her mother to look out of the window,
+now came into the garden, which immediately became idyllic.
+
+She was not in any way like the innkeeper's daughter of Comic Opera.
+She was a schoolgirl of sixteen, with a long, fair plait, a short serge
+skirt, and a seraphic oval face. She ought to have been called Fanny or
+Clara. Unluckily her name was Gladys.
+
+She said in a very sweet voice--
+
+"You're quite a stranger, sir." And she amplified the assertion by
+adding, "You haven't been here not this ever so long."
+
+"I know I haven't, but I've been longing to come."
+
+"Not you!" she said ironically.
+
+She was standing opposite him, with her hands behind her back. Without a
+hat, in the glaring afternoon sun, with the complexion, pale pink and
+white, of a china doll that had never made up, she was a refreshing
+sight after the theatrical world in London, not to speak of society.
+Vaughan seemed to think so.
+
+"Well, how did you enjoy the play?" he asked.
+
+"It was very kind of you to send us the tickets. Mother enjoyed it."
+
+"You didn't care much for the piece yourself?"
+
+"I thought it was rather silly," she answered.
+
+He had never had a criticism on his work that pleased him more.
+
+"I mean," she went on, "I shouldn't have thought--well, nobody would go
+on like that."
+
+"Go on how?"
+
+"Why, go on so silly."
+
+"You wouldn't like to see another play, written by the same man, then?"
+
+"I wouldn't mind another one. Wild horses wouldn't drag me to see that
+again."
+
+"Wild horses are not likely to try," he observed. At which jest she
+laughed loudly and charmingly, showing marvellous teeth. She had no
+cockney accent, though she occasionally and fitfully dropped an H.
+
+"Oh, Gladys, do take me for a walk in the field."
+
+"Want to see the calf?"
+
+"No; I can live without seeing the calf. I want to sit in the field with
+you."
+
+"You are a caution! Come on then, but I can't stay long."
+
+They climbed the gate, which she seemed to think a quicker mode of
+entrance than sending for the key, and sat in the field, from which Mr.
+Brill always declared you could see three counties. Perhaps you could;
+if so, they all looked exactly alike.
+
+"It's quiet here, isn't it? I shan't have much more of it," she
+remarked.
+
+"Oh, Gladys! Don't say you're going away!"
+
+"Of course I am. Don't you know I'm going to be a manicure in Bond
+Street?"
+
+"Bond Street? How revolting! Is that your ambition?"
+
+"Why, I think it would be very nice. I must do something. Father's
+settled about it. First I'm going to pay to learn it, and then I shall
+earn quite a lot. It's a great hairdresser's."
+
+"I think it's horrible, Gladys. Perhaps you'll fall in love with a
+German hairdresser, and be lost to me for ever."
+
+"I shan't fall in love with no foreigners, don't you fret."
+
+"I'm not fretting. Will you have your hair done up?" he asked, lifting
+the long plait.
+
+"Well, of course I shall, and waved, and that."
+
+"Gladys, they'll spoil you."
+
+The conversation went on in this strain for some time. She alternately
+repeated the exclamation, "How you do go on!" or accused him of the
+mysterious crime of being a caution, but she never stopped looking
+perfectly beautiful and seraphic.
+
+When they went back to the garden a few other visitors had straggled in.
+They all seemed to come in high dog-carts, and they always ordered eggs,
+jam, and watercress with their tea, and were immensely impressed by the
+Persian pheasants.
+
+Vaughan went back to London feeling refreshed, and already, strangely,
+counting the days till he could come back.
+
+There was not a woman in the world he knew whom he would have taken the
+slightest trouble to see except Gladys, the innkeeper's daughter. She
+was an illiterate schoolgirl; and though she had a lovely face, she was
+stupid, and probably not so angelic as she looked; but he always felt a
+little disappointed as he drove back. He wished she were in love with
+him.
+
+And this ungratified wish was, in all his full life with its brilliant
+success, perhaps his greatest real pleasure.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE GREEN GATE
+
+
+When Harry came down to breakfast, a little late, he found Valentia
+waiting to pour out his coffee, and some letters on his plate. She
+watched him as he opened them. Most of them looked like bills. On the
+envelope of one was a little blue flag. Harry put this letter in his
+pocket, and went on eating.
+
+"It's a lovely morning, Harry. So fresh; just the sort of day not to do
+anything at all."
+
+"Ah! that's what's so delightful about you all," he answered. "You never
+say, 'What shall we do?' and neither of you have ever said yet that this
+is Liberty Hall, which means, as a rule, in a country house, 'Breakfast
+at eight o'clock sharp, you won't mind it being a little cold if you're
+late, and then we are going for a motor drive at 9.30.' Still, I think,
+perhaps, one ought to take a little exercise. I feel almost equal to a
+game of croquet this afternoon--later on--when I'm stronger. Is any one
+coming down to-day?"
+
+"No. And only Van Buren, and Vaughan and Muir Howard on Sunday. I see
+you've heard from the Walmers. What do they say?"
+
+"It's sure to be nothing of interest. How I love your hair parted on one
+side! It makes you look like a boy."
+
+"Not a principal boy, I hope. Why not read the letter?"
+
+Harry got up and fetched himself something from the sideboard.
+
+"I don't feel quite strong enough yet. When I've had breakfast. I should
+like to paint you as you're looking now, Val. I think I'll do a sketch
+of you in the rose garden, all in black and white, like a Beardsley,
+with the balustrades and steps and things behind you. Will you sit to
+me?"
+
+"That's all very well. But why don't you read your letter?"
+
+"There's sure to be nothing in it."
+
+"How can you tell till you've opened it?"
+
+"I know. I always feel what's in a letter without opening it. Don't you?
+I absorb the essence, as it were, through the covers of the envelope, as
+somebody or other--Macaulay, I think--used to absorb all the important
+things through the covers of a book. Or wasn't it Macaulay? Anyhow, it
+doesn't matter. It was some tiresome person whom one oughtn't to talk
+about on a morning like this."
+
+Harry evidently was not quite at his ease.
+
+"But why not read it?" She spoke playfully.
+
+"How persistent women are, just like children. To tease you I just
+shan't."
+
+"Oh, Harry!"
+
+"I shan't read it now at all," he went on. "I can answer it without
+reading it."
+
+"It's only that I should like to know how the Walmers are enjoying
+themselves on _Flying Fish_. Lady Walmer was a little afraid they
+mightn't like it."
+
+Here Romer came up to the window and called out--
+
+"I say, Val, come here a minute. I want to ask you something."
+
+"Here I am, dear," and she vanished into the garden.
+
+The second she had gone Harry opened the letter very carefully, and
+read--
+
+     "Dearest Harry,
+
+     "You are a rotter never to write. I'm having _such_ a time. Weather
+     priceless, but very sick at not hearing from you. Algie Thynne is
+     here. Do you know him? He's rather a nut. Wish you were here. No
+     more to-day. Bye-bye, old son.
+
+                                             "Your loving "ALEC."
+
+     "P.S.--Do write. The moonlight nights are simply topping. Just like
+     a picture. I think you'd like it; otherwise everything is beastly.
+
+     "I love you more than ever.
+
+                                                             "A."
+
+He put the letter back in the untorn envelope and carefully fastened it
+up again. He then placed it on the mantelpiece, and having finished his
+breakfast, lit a cigarette.
+
+He looked thoughtful.
+
+"Algie Thynne, indeed!" he said to himself. "How pathetic, trying to
+make me jealous! Well, it's a pretty letter, and what's more, it must be
+answered."
+
+Val came back.
+
+"Romer wants the lawn mown," she said. "He's perfectly mad on the
+subject of mowing the lawn. He seems to think it ought to be shaved
+every day. It's the only thing he knows about the country. Well, have
+you read your letter?"
+
+"There it is," said Harry. "You can read it if you like." He watched her
+carefully as she took it from the mantelpiece.
+
+"I don't want to read it," she said, holding it.
+
+"Nor do I," said Harry.
+
+"Harry, tell me honestly, wouldn't you really mind if I tore it into
+little bits and put it in the waste-paper basket--just as it is?"
+
+"Not a straw," said Harry, shaking his head.
+
+She clapped her hands, tore it into tiny pieces, and threw it in the
+basket. Then she said, in a low voice of deep gratitude--
+
+"Oh, Harry, you are sweet! Do forgive me."
+
+"I don't see that there's anything to forgive," said Harry.
+
+"Yes, there is; lots. I'm afraid I've been horrid. I'll never bother you
+about any thing again."
+
+She was simply beaming.
+
+"Good," answered Harry indifferently.
+
+But as he followed her into the garden he looked rather perplexed. He
+felt that this sort of thing was not leading up very well to what he
+would have to tell her soon. However, why spoil a lovely day by thinking
+of it?
+
+Like a schoolboy with his holiday task before him, he put it off as long
+as possible.
+
+Though he didn't own it to himself, and was disdainfully amused at
+Alec's letter, still the thought of Algie Thynne, moonlight nights on
+the yacht, topping weather, and his own neglect, gave him some cause for
+alarm. Algie Thynne was _crible_ with debts, and probably keen on
+marrying for money. Contemptible young ass! Why didn't he _work_? Harry
+despised him.
+
+At the earliest opportunity (which, by the way, did not arise until he
+had made an excuse to go into the village, where he wrote at the post
+office) the answer was sent.
+
+Even Harry found the beginning of the letter too difficult, so he always
+began (as Valentia might have said) without a beginning, which impressed
+Miss Walmer much more. Ever since he had reached the age of discretion,
+which, in his case, was at his majority, Harry had been thoroughly
+trained in the habit of writing letters that gratified the recipient
+enormously without compromising the writer in the slightest degree. The
+habitual dread of those _betes noires_ of Don Juan--the breach of
+promise case and the Divorce Court--had got him into the way of writing
+the sort of letter that he would have had no objection to hear read
+aloud in court. Perhaps that was why the sentences were always polished,
+and the meaning a little vague.
+
+     "... I don't speak your language, perhaps, but I understand your
+     letter, reading between the lines. It came like a whiff of fresh
+     sea air. Yes, it would be delightful to be on board _Flying Fish_
+     now. However, no doubt Algie Thynne--(_how_ eloquently, by the way,
+     you describe him! putting all the complications of his character
+     and the dazzling charm of his personality in a nutshell by the
+     simple sentence '_He's rather a nut!_')--amply compensates for my
+     absence. You ask if I know him. I do, though perhaps more by
+     reputation than anything else. We have met once or twice. Where? I
+     can't quite recall. Perhaps at the Oratory, or at the Supper Club
+     or some place of that sort. But somehow I never pursued his
+     acquaintance, nor did it ever ripen into friendship. I felt,
+     instinctively, that he was too clever for me.
+
+     "I trust all the same that his brilliance will not altogether
+     overshadow your memory of _others_. I should not like to think that
+     we were drifting apart. Still, if it should be so, I must resign
+     myself. I could still be happy in thinking of you, Alec.
+
+         _'Love that is love at all
+         Asks for no earthly coronal'_--
+
+     but, I remember, you once expressed to me your opinion that _all
+     poetry is rot_. So I will not bore you with quotations. It is
+     pleasant here, and my cousins are very kind, and leave me alone to
+     think as much as I like. I'm not, somehow, quite in the mood for
+     the usual gaieties and frivolities of a country house. Last night
+     we played Musical Chairs until two in the morning, and to-day I am
+     a little weary. Your postscript gave me joy. I need not say that I
+     reciprocate it, need I?...
+
+     "I feel all that you are feeling, and somehow even know what you
+     are doing, and if you did not write again until we meet, I should
+     not be anxious. I have a trusting nature. But when you wire,
+     remember that the telegraph boy has a good way to walk, and when
+     telegrams arrive after midnight, it causes a sensation and much
+     inquiry. Also I cannot help feeling that every one in the village,
+     as well as at the Green Gate, has read the words I would like to
+     keep to myself alone. I have a curious love of mystery--isn't
+     mystery the great charm of all romance?--So to gratify this fancy
+     of mine, sign your next telegram 'Johnson.' I know you won't mind.
+
+     "When we meet again, all, I trust, will be clear and definite
+     before us. Best love to dear Lady Walmer, and to yourself what I am
+     sure you will know. Don't be angry with me for not writing oftener.
+     I find it very difficult to express my thoughts, for alas, I have
+     no command of language. Not only that, the pens here have one great
+     fault--they won't write. Otherwise they're quite excellent.... Yes,
+     your note has given me, as the French say, 'furiously to think.'
+
+     "Hoping that all will go well with you, and looking forward, think
+     me as always,
+
+                                    "Yours, faithfully,
+                                    "HARRY BROKE DE FREYNE."
+
+"There! that ought to keep her quiet for a month," he thought as he
+posted the letter, and with a sigh of relief turned back towards the
+Green Gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+A SUNDAY AFTERNOON
+
+
+By this time Van Buren was entirely in Harry's confidence; that is to
+say, Harry had gradually trained him to bear without flinching the
+situation as Harry represented it. He believed Harry had a hopeless
+romantic affection for Mrs. Romer Wyburn which he was trying to stifle,
+and that Miss Walmer being hopelessly in love with _him_, he was doing
+his best to marry her, partly, as he candidly admitted, on worldly
+grounds.
+
+Van Buren was deeply touched at Harry's trust in him, and was always
+trying to keep him up to his good resolutions by pointing out that any
+understanding (however Platonic) between the pretty Valentia and the
+handsome guest was dishonourable, a breach of hospitality towards Romer,
+that silent but admirable host.
+
+Indeed, he repeated to Harry so often and so firmly, "It can't be done;
+one can't make love to the wife of a friend," that Harry was driven to
+the point of replying that he hardly saw whom else, as a matter of fact,
+one _could_ very well make love to; it being impossible to have romances
+with people one didn't know. And in this case the fact that Harry was
+very fond of Romer made the temptation far greater, as he explained;
+Harry being (as he pointed out) so very sensitive and highly strung that
+he could never, somehow, be really attracted by a woman whose husband
+was not sympathetic to him. Which point of view Van Buren, shaking his
+head, regarded as unsound.
+
+Harry now spent much time giving picturesque sketches and impressions of
+his feelings to his friend, for he had an almost feminine love of
+talking over personal affairs to the sympathetic. In his benevolence Van
+Buren longed to protect Valentia and Romer, and to give Miss Walmer all
+she wanted; but most of all his idea was to save Harry from himself, so
+he always accepted with alacrity invitations to the Green Gate for
+altruistic reasons. Besides, his desire to see Daphne, although she was
+now becoming more and more remote to him, was still persistent, if a
+little less vivid.
+
+"I've had a beautiful womanly letter from Alec to-day," Harry confided
+in Van as soon as he arrived. "You know the sort of thing she writes:
+all in jerks and subaltern's slang. With sincere sentiment showing
+between the lines. And I answered it."
+
+"A beautiful manly letter, I hope? I'm sure you could do that as well as
+any one, Harry."
+
+Harry smiled.
+
+"Oh, just some vague, cautious slosh, not unamusing in its way--it'll
+_get_ there all right."
+
+"Yes, Harry, I know, but I do hope----Ah, Miss Daphne, how beautiful
+your England is looking to-day! In America we never have a day like
+this, warm and yet cool, with all those nice, white, fleecy clouds in
+the sky. Our atmosphere is always so hard and clear. Now this garden
+with those large trees is just like a Corot. They _are_ fine trees.
+Poplars, I presume?"
+
+"You _do_ presume," smiled Daphne; "I don't know what they are, but I'm
+perfectly sure they're not poplars."
+
+"Oh yes--I'm wrong. They're oaks, I've no doubt." He hummed, "'The oak
+and the ash and the bonny ivy tree.' Do let's walk over and look at them
+closer, Miss Daphne."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't. Tea's ready."
+
+To his annoyance Van was obliged to follow Daphne and join the group
+round the tea-table. He declined with some formality of manner to accept
+the glass of iced water Daphne offered him, and looked at her with that
+look of tender, fixed, respectful reproach that had the effect of
+irritating her very nearly to the point of incivility.
+
+She turned to Muir Howard, who was looking very pink and cheery. Muir
+was a popular man for his great ease in making conversation, the kind
+that is as the pudding part in a plum pudding, and without which the
+plums, however delightful, could hardly stick together. Though the great
+majority of people talk commonplaces, their banalities are by no means
+always the kind that help. Muir's particular way of opening open doors,
+flogging dead horses, and genially enjoying any spark of fun in his
+friends, coupled with his good looks and pleasant, hearty disposition,
+made him a most useful and welcome guest, as a sort of super. He was
+quite decorative, and could be turned on to talk newspaper politics to
+dull men, pretty platitudes to plain women; to make himself generally
+useful, and altogether to help things to go. In this way he was
+invaluable. Young girls always liked him; he was a great favourite with
+elderly ladies, and with men of his own age also, who were, however,
+occasionally bored with his worship for his friend Vaughan. He found it
+very difficult not to mention Gillie less than once in every five
+minutes.
+
+That distinguished young man, who was beginning to look a little jaded
+with incense, was engrossed with his hostess. Whenever he was there
+Harry always became particularly devoted in his manner to Valentia, and
+scarcely ever left her other side. This was one of the reasons that she
+enjoyed Gillie's presence, besides that she was, now that she knew him
+well, particularly fond of him. His conversation and personality in
+general had a special flavour.
+
+Every one was talking and laughing with the light intoxication produced
+by tea and cigarettes in the open air on a fine Sunday afternoon,
+excepting only Romer, who as usual said hardly anything, absorbed in
+admiration of his wife. He suddenly remarked--
+
+"I say, Val. The Campbells are coming."
+
+He wondered why this statement produced a burst of irresponsible
+laughter.
+
+"What fun! Will there be bagpipes?" Vaughan asked.
+
+"No, no. Romer means the Prebendary Campbell, or at least his wife and
+daughter. They're coming to see us this afternoon. I had quite
+forgotten. Please all behave nicely. They've been a long time making up
+their minds. I believe they think we're frivolous."
+
+"Not really? How could they? It reminds one of the story of Henry
+James." Vaughan stopped to light a cigarette.
+
+"Go on."
+
+"It appears that for some time his near neighbours in the country
+looked a little coldly on him on the grounds that, being a writer, he
+must be Bohemian. At last the local doctor's wife and clergyman's wife
+called on him, and finding him perfectly respectable, stayed for many
+hours. They were particularly tedious and rather self-righteous. When
+they had gone, he said thoughtfully to some one who was pitying him for
+being bored, 'One of those poor wantons has a certain cadaverous
+grace.'"
+
+The story was well received, except by Van Buren, who seemed painfully
+shocked.
+
+Daphne, who had gone into the house to fetch some snapshots, now came
+running back saying--
+
+"Val, Val! The Campbells are arriving in a fly, and they seem to have
+brought their foreigner with them--that man Miss Campbell told me about.
+He's a kind of Belgian, and awfully clever--he's invented something."
+
+"What's he invented?"
+
+"Brussels sprouts?" suggested Harry rather sleepily.
+
+"But they've been invented already."
+
+"Why shouldn't he invent them over again? Give him a chance."
+
+Muir began to sing softly, "Young Lochinvar has come out of the West,"
+which he appeared to think a suitable serenade, but he stopped suddenly
+at Gillie's entreaty.
+
+"I don't mind anything Muir does, as long as he doesn't sing," he always
+explained.
+
+"It's awful hard lines. I've got a ripping baritone voice, but I never
+have a chance to use it," murmured Muir.
+
+"You shall sing to me this afternoon. I'll accompany you," whispered
+Daphne.
+
+Muir had gratefully answered that it was frightfully decent of her, when
+the servant announced--
+
+"Mrs. and Miss Campbell. Mr.----" He left a blank, unable to pronounce
+the name.
+
+But Mrs. Campbell introduced Mynheer von Stoendyck.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+Mrs. Campbell was an amiable, colourless woman, with a greyish brown
+fringe that looked as if it were made of Berlin wool. Though she was not
+yet forty-five, she wore a bonnet with violet velvet strings, and had a
+very long waist. Also, her skirt, in reality quite normal, looked, to
+the eye used to contemporary fashion, grotesquely wide at the end.
+
+Her daughter was an ordinary Rectory girl, spoilt by a dash of culture.
+At a glance all present saw she was in love with Mr. Stoendyck. He was a
+well-set-up man of about thirty-five, with a military manner and
+scientific eye-glasses, also a turned-up light moustache. He spoke all
+languages with one rasping accent, but Mrs. Campbell seemed to suffer
+under the delusion that he could only understand broken English. So
+whenever people spoke to him she translated their remarks into a sort of
+baby language that seemed singularly out of place from her.
+
+"I'm afraid you must think me dreadfully worldly, calling on you on a
+Sunday," said Mrs. Campbell, laughing socially as she sat down. "But
+what the Prebendary always says is, the better the day the better the
+deed."
+
+"Oh, does he always say that?" Harry asked with great apparent interest,
+waking up. He had been overpowered with languor ever since lunch.
+
+"Yes, and I felt sure you wouldn't mind our bringing our friend, Mr.
+Stoendyck. He is so clever. He's come over to England about an
+invention."
+
+Val thought of Brussels sprouts, but did not suggest it.
+
+Mrs. Campbell apparently couldn't take her eyes off the Belgian, whom
+she watched as one watches a rather dangerous pet, though he appeared
+particularly safe.
+
+Muir, for an unknown reason addressing the Belgian as Professor, was
+asking him his impressions of England. Mrs. Campbell bent forward, and
+said with a nod--
+
+"E ope you like it--Angleterre, you know"--and nodded idiotically.
+
+"I find it most interesting," said Mr. Stoendyck raspingly, in admirable
+English. "There are opportunities in this country for the pursuance of
+science, art, and social intercourse which one would hardly have
+expected. I do not take tea, I thank you much."
+
+"Have a glass of beer?" said Romer, suddenly inspired.
+
+Simple as the sentence was, Mrs. Campbell thought it necessary to
+translate it with more nods.
+
+"E ask you, ave beer. _Biere_, you know! Glass," and then she went on in
+her usual tone, "Most thoughtful of Mr. Wyburn, I'm sure. What a
+charming place this is of yours, Mrs. Wyburn. I always say the Green
+Gate is the most picturesque place in the neighbourhood. And Mr. de
+Freyne, I understand, is an artist. Do you know my daughter, Marion, is
+_so_ interested in art! And my younger son, Garstin, though he is only
+twelve years old, shows great artistic talent, too. He did a map of
+Buckinghamshire that really surprised me, almost any one would recognise
+it at a glance. I always say I'm sure some day Garstin will be in the
+Royal Academy."
+
+Van Buren had approached and began to talk to Mrs. Campbell. Val went
+over to the Belgian, but she heard the American beginning a sentence as
+usual with, "Pleased to meet you. I've never had the opportunity of
+mixing much in clerical circles in New York, Mrs. Campbell," and felt
+sure he was going to ask impossible questions about Prebendaries and
+Rural Deans.
+
+The rasping Belgian, on whom both the mother and daughter cast continual
+anxious and admiring eyes, though he seemed thoroughly able to take care
+of himself, said to Muir, who was taking him on--
+
+"No, I do not spend my entire time over my invention. Mrs. Campbell is
+so kind as to take me for drives in the environment, to give me a right
+impression of the beauties of Hertfordshire. For relaxation I play the
+piano."
+
+"Ha! Musical, eh, Professor?" asked Muir shrewdly. "That's right; so am
+I. I'm awfully keen on music." He spoke reassuringly.
+
+Mr. Stoendyck looked at him through his glasses, and said without
+interest--
+
+"Indeed. I find Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, even on the piano,
+extraordinarily satisfying and refreshing to the mind after the strain
+of looking at English scenery." He drank a long draught of iced lager.
+
+"Oh! Classical, eh? I'm not up to that. Queen's Hall, eh? That sort of
+thing."
+
+"I beg your pardon? Is there----Has the Queen a hall in this
+neighbourhood?"
+
+"How do you mean, Professor?"
+
+"What do you say?"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+Mrs. Campbell, who managed to hear through her own conversation with Van
+Buren, called out--
+
+"E say e no understand," and nodded smilingly, seeming to think she had
+helped matters considerably.
+
+Miss Campbell talked of tennis, matins, hats and the opera to Daphne,
+but appeared to be absent, and occasionally smiled at the foreigner, who
+ignored her.
+
+At last the Campbells and their Belgian withdrew, Mrs. Campbell saying
+that the Prebendary wished them to go to Evensong. Their departure left,
+as such visits do, a blank and a reaction. Our friends were silent for a
+minute.
+
+Then Vaughan said--
+
+"I feel crushed, and a little flattened out, too."
+
+"_I_ feel as if my brain were made of cotton wool," said Harry.
+
+"Come and sing," suggested Daphne to Muir, and they went off to the
+drawing-room, from which strains were soon heard about _It IS not
+because_,--something or other.
+
+In the middle of the song Daphne played a wrong note, stopped, and
+said--
+
+"Oh, I wish Cyril was here!"
+
+"So do I. If he can accompany, I wish he was here."
+
+"Oh, go on!"
+
+"_It IS not because thy heart is mine_"....
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+The party in the garden listened with a worried expression.
+
+"How about croquet?" suggested Val. "The tapping noise will take it
+off."
+
+"Yes. Come on."
+
+"You can't," said Romer. "The lawn wants mowing."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+IN THE ROSE GARDEN
+
+
+"How lovely this place must look at dawn!"
+
+"By Jove! That's an idea, Gillie," said Harry. "It must look glorious."
+
+They were sitting in the rose garden with Valentia. It was still quite
+light, though the sunset glow had nearly faded. There was a rich mellow
+tone in the sky, a promise of peace, a feeling that it was the end of
+the day, which, combined with the almost cloyingly sweet scent of the
+roses, was enough to make any one feel poetical.
+
+"To think we've never seen the sun rise here!" exclaimed Valentia.
+
+Romer here joined them, smoking a cigarette.
+
+"Hasn't Romer ever seen the sun rise here?" Vaughan asked.
+
+"Never," said Romer.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose because it always happens after I've gone to
+bed," he answered drily.
+
+"Let's sit up all night and see it to-morrow," suggested Valentia.
+
+"Yes. Capital! Do let us!" said Harry.
+
+Romer did not appear much taken with this scheme.
+
+"Oh no, you mustn't _sit_ up," said Vaughan. "That's not the way to see
+it."
+
+"Is there so much difference between staying up and getting up then?"
+Val asked.
+
+"Yes, indeed, all the difference in the world. You must get up fresh,
+with the birds."
+
+"What time do birds get up? Is it _very_ early?"
+
+"It would do if you were out at three this time of the year, or even at
+four."
+
+"Well, let's do it!"
+
+"Oh, I don't think I shall," said Harry.
+
+He looked at Valentia.
+
+She answered--
+
+"You might make a sketch, you know, of the early birds getting up to
+catch the worms. But--I don't think I shall. Anyhow, not _to-morrow_ at
+_half-past three_."
+
+"All right," said Harry with a nod, "we won't. Don't tell Daphne, or
+she'll be out at 3.15 to the tick, to take a snapshot of the dawn."
+
+"A snapshot of the dawn! Wouldn't that be sacrilege?"
+
+"Young girls are always inclined to that. They're so prosaic," said
+Harry, getting up. "I must go and see what Van is doing."
+
+He walked away with his usual quick, supple step and casual bearing.
+They watched his slim figure as he went. Then Romer followed him,
+slowly.
+
+Vaughan turned to Valentia and said: "I shouldn't if I were you."
+
+"Wouldn't what?"
+
+"Why, meet Harry at half-past three to-morrow morning in the rose
+garden."
+
+"Good gracious! I never thought of doing such a thing. Besides, it was
+your idea.... As a matter of fact, I really assure you it wouldn't be
+here. It would be in the orchard if anywhere. There is the loveliest
+cherry-tree there, with a seat all round it."
+
+"How jolly! I'd like to see it. Will you give me the key?"
+
+"Who told you it was kept locked?"
+
+She looked rather annoyed.
+
+"You did, but not intentionally."
+
+"I don't see that you have really any right to suppose----Why
+shouldn't I go in my own orchard, at any hour I like?"
+
+"But, Val--of course you ought to go in your own orchard. But why don't
+you meet Romer there?"
+
+"Oh, Gillie, really!..."
+
+"He is so straight, so good-looking, and, under all that manner, he's
+exactly like Vesuvius. Yes. Fancy, you're living with a volcano and you
+don't appreciate it!"
+
+"Gillie, it's really rather stupid of you to put things like that. It
+isn't a question of liking either one person _or_ another. If Romer were
+ill, or anything like that, don't you _know_----"
+
+"I know you'd devote yourself to him, like a sister or a mother. You'd
+put Harry aside for a time as a pleasure that mustn't be indulged in.
+Now that's just where you're wrong. No! _I_ want to see you being ever
+so good and kind to dear Harry as a duty to a ne'er-do-well of a cousin;
+and regarding Romer----"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"My point is," he went on, "that it's really too distressingly
+conventional of you to suppose that because you happen to be legally
+married there can be no sort of romance. Only comradeship, or perhaps
+affectionate sentiment? That's what you believe."
+
+"Isn't it always so?"
+
+"Most often, I grant. That's generally through the man's point of view.
+But Romer is an exception. He's as much in love as if he had no hope of
+ever being within a mile of you."
+
+She seemed rather flattered. "Do you really think so? But even that
+isn't everything."
+
+"Oh, there's a great deal to be done with Romer," was Vaughan's reply.
+
+He spoke with dreamy significance, and she was silent. Then she
+exclaimed, turning round suddenly--
+
+"I suppose what you really mean is that Harry doesn't care a bit about
+me?"
+
+"No, I don't. But he cares a bit about a lot of people, and things. He's
+superficial, and he has no courage."
+
+"No courage? _Harry!_"
+
+"He'd crumble up in a crisis if a strong man took him in hand."
+
+"That's all nonsense." She was growing angry. "Hasn't he been up in an
+aeroplane, and done--oh, all sorts of things? I call Harry daring and
+brave!"
+
+"That's all vanity. All that is show and vanity. Oh, Valentia, do
+forgive me."
+
+"I'll try.... here he is."
+
+He was seen coming towards them again. Her anger flickered out at once.
+
+"I suppose he thinks we've been here long enough," she said, smiling as
+women do at such symptoms.
+
+"Of course he does. Vanity--just vanity." Vaughan strolled away.
+
+"Look here! What were you two talking about?"
+
+"Nothing. About you, Harry."
+
+"Rubbish. What was he talking about?"
+
+"You, only you."
+
+"I can't see that that chap's so brilliant! It seems to me he's just
+like anybody else. And his work shows it too, really. No soul, no real
+heart in it. All from the outside."
+
+"Nonsense, Harry, nobody is more kind-hearted, more----"
+
+"Look here, Val, I won't have it. Do you hear?"
+
+"Have what, Harry?"
+
+He lowered his voice. "I won't have it. You must go back. It isn't that
+_I_ mind. But Romer will soon think it extraordinary, your sitting out
+alone so long."
+
+"No, he won't."
+
+"All right then, he won't. He must be an ass," said Harry angrily. "I
+don't know what he's thinking of. Hasn't he got eyes?"
+
+"Yes, of course he has."
+
+"And eyelids too," said Harry. "I dare say he pretends not to see that
+Vaughan admires you. Too indolent to bother about it."
+
+"Really. Harry--you go too far. Are you thinking of pointing it out?"
+
+She got up.
+
+"One second," said Harry pleadingly. "It's cruel of you to go now."
+
+"I thought you said we'd better get back?"
+
+"Your hands look so lovely by this light," he spoke in his softest
+voice.
+
+"We really must go."
+
+"Then at half-past three. I'll bring my sketchbook. Do you know where
+the key is? Perhaps you've lost it. You are so dreadfully careless." He
+now spoke in the tone of a reproving husband.
+
+"I've got it. Do you think we'd better? I'm rather tired. Shall you be
+able to wake?"
+
+Harry turned away.
+
+"All right, it doesn't matter, Val. I shall be going soon, and then----"
+
+She followed him quickly.
+
+"No, no, Harry. Of course."
+
+He gave her a grateful look. They joined the group on the little
+verandah in front of the house. Van Buren was sitting in the corner and
+seemed in the depths of depression. From the windows could be heard once
+more strains of music. Daphne was playing an accompaniment. Muir had
+again begun the song, and got a little further into it--"_It is not
+because thy heart is mine, mine only, mine alone._" But Vaughan came up
+promptly and stopped it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+SEEING THE SUN RISE
+
+
+What a delicate air there was in the garden! There had been a little
+rain in the night, but Valentia supposed it to be dew. Every little
+sound seemed the softest music, to the sound of which little dainty
+things seemed to be dancing in the air. The Green Gate, a red Georgian
+house, seen in the early glamour with all its blinds down, except one,
+seemed like a thing half asleep with one eye open.
+
+For a moment she was a little frightened. He was late. She had perhaps
+got up for nothing. But no, it was worth it. It was lovely here.
+
+Another eye of the house slowly opened, and soon Romeo, or Paolo, or
+Faust, appeared. True, he was disguised as a flannelled fool, with a
+sketch-book under his arm. But it _was_ Faust, or Romeo, or Paolo, all
+the same. He looked very handsome. The thought of scoring off other
+people in the house had raised his spirits and had even made him wake up
+in time. Valentia's conversation with Vaughan, whom she knew to be
+honest and believed to be brilliant, had left a certain insidious
+influence on her which would tell gradually, and yet their talk had had
+rather a contradictory effect for the moment. She wanted to prove to
+herself that he was wrong. And Harry felt that his time was growing
+short. Very soon he must put an end to it all.
+
+This thought made him more affectionate. It occurred to him for a moment
+that he would tell her in the orchard; but, of course, he didn't. Every
+day he thought he would tell her, and something always happened to
+prevent it. Besides, there would have to be a quarrel anyhow at the end,
+so why make it longer than necessary?
+
+They sat down under the cherry-tree.
+
+"Fancy you, Valentia, a minion of the moon, rising before dawn! Let me
+look at you. You fill me with wonder and joy."
+
+"Did you mind getting up _very_ much, Harry?"
+
+"It _was_ rather hard. Listen!... That's a thrush, making a scene with
+another thrush in the tree."
+
+"Is it? How do you know?"
+
+"Of course it is! How do _you_ know things? How did you know exactly
+what to wear, Val? I knew you had clothes for every possible occasion;
+but still, to choose the _exact_ right dress to put on to meet your
+cousin at dawn in the orchard seems--well, rather extraordinary. Pinkish
+blue--or is it bluish pink?--to match the sky. How jolly! It fastens in
+front."
+
+"Well, of course I couldn't expect Ogburn to get up in the middle of the
+night."
+
+"And no hatpins for once, thank goodness."
+
+"Well, if we _sat up_ till now I shouldn't be wearing a hat, should I?"
+
+"Don't argue. It's too early."
+
+"It isn't really early. It's very late."
+
+"Oh, Val! You're being logical."
+
+He took her hands and looked at them, and quoted--
+
+    "_They are pale with the pallor of ivories,
+    But they blush at the tips like a curved sea-shell._"
+
+"Oh, Harry!"
+
+He was thinking. He looked almost miserable. "I don't see--I must
+admit--how I shall ever be able to leave your hands!"
+
+She looked at him suspiciously.
+
+"Why should you? What do you mean?"
+
+"Nothing. I only meant I couldn't...."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"What's that?... Some one coming along the lawn."
+
+"Doesn't it sound curious?" she said--"so _rustly_!"
+
+"Who can it be? Surely your friend Vaughan couldn't get up at this
+hour."
+
+"Nonsense! Of course not. They're coming here." She jumped up.
+
+"Go and open the gate at once," said Harry, giving her the key. "I'll
+wait here a minute." While she obeyed he used a good deal of language.
+He now felt that he would give all he possessed to keep her there five
+minutes longer.
+
+"Fancy! It's Romer!" exclaimed Valentia. "He hasn't seen me yet."
+
+"Go to him at _once_. Tell him you got up to see the sun rise. I'll come
+directly and join you. Oh, confound it! _Do_ look sharp. Seem pleased to
+see him." He spoke in a harsh tone of command.
+
+She ran to meet Romer, saying jokingly, "Fancy meeting you!"
+
+"I thought you'd be here. I went to your room and found you were out.
+Thought I'd get up early."
+
+"I'm so glad. _Isn't_ it lovely and worth seeing here? Come and pick
+some fruit in the orchard."
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"Oh, _do_! Harry's devouring gooseberries. He's sketching the sky."
+
+"Why doesn't Harry come?" said Romer.
+
+He had no expression, and it was always impossible to guess by his
+looks or his tone what he was thinking or feeling, except when he
+smiled.
+
+"Here he is."
+
+Harry joined them.
+
+"Good gracious, old boy! Who in the world--! What on earth made you come
+out so early?"
+
+Romer now smiled and looked at Valentia admiringly.
+
+"Gardener's not up yet. Thought perhaps I'd mow the lawn," he said
+apologetically.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+"REPLY PAID"
+
+
+Valentia had been hurt at the tone in which Harry had given his orders,
+and turned from him to help to find the mowing-machine.
+
+"Doesn't she look jolly at sunrise? All that pink and mauve in the sky
+tones in so well. It seems to suit her. That's how she really should be
+painted," said Harry, in the tone of an artist admiring his model.
+"Don't you think so?"
+
+"Yes," said Romer.
+
+"She looks like a golden rose," Harry went on. He wanted to please Val,
+who he saw was annoyed with him, and to emphasise the openness of his
+admiration to Romer. "Doesn't she?"
+
+"Quite," said her husband.
+
+Harry felt the morning was spoilt and the situation absurd. He could not
+bear to be thwarted in any way. He went back to his own room, bounced
+angrily on to his bed, and went to sleep again, after having seen
+Valentia through the window helping to push the mower, and saying to
+himself--
+
+"How like a woman! I shall go up to town with Van Buren and send a wire
+to Alec."
+
+This was his revenge.
+
+Their momentary fears about Romer were completely dissipated. He seemed
+exactly as usual. As a rule he was even-tempered. Not many people had
+seen him put out, though he could be very angry, except with Valentia.
+During this day he seemed, for him, a little irritable. Perhaps, Val
+thought, through getting up too early.
+
+Harry went up to town with Van Buren for the day, intending to return
+the same evening. He soon recovered himself in the course of copious
+confidences in the train. As soon as he had arrived in London he began
+to count the minutes before he should go back.
+
+Valentia expected the elder Mrs. Wyburn to lunch.
+
+"What shall we do with her to-day?" Val asked Daphne. "She must be kept
+in a good temper, because it's the last time she'll come down before
+going to Bournemouth. It's rather a pity they've all gone. Romer is sure
+to say the wrong thing to her--let out some trifle that we have been
+carefully concealing for months--praise up Harry, or something."
+
+"Doesn't she like Harry?"
+
+"Since he went to see her she likes him for herself, but not for me."
+
+"What cheek! But he's not here."
+
+"No, if he were she might like him again all right. Then, Romer talks
+too slowly for her. Her mind works quicker than his, and one can only
+deal with him by racing on in front, and turning round to beckon. With
+Mrs. Wyburn there are only two things that are any use--dash and
+volubility. It's difficult to keep the thing going when she's alone with
+us."
+
+"Well, why not pass the time this afternoon by returning the Campbells'
+visit, and take Mrs. Wyburn with us to 'The Angles'?" Daphne suggested.
+
+"Oh no! It's treating them almost like royalty to go so soon. And
+there's the Belgian man."
+
+"Doesn't she like Belgians then, Val?"
+
+"I've never asked her. Only, don't you see, it isn't that but the
+Belgian is what Harry calls a blighter--a beano-blighter; and so is Mrs.
+Wyburn, and it doesn't do to have two beano-blighters in the same
+party."
+
+"Ah, I see; they'd clash. What _is_ a beano-blighter exactly, Val?"
+
+"A person who blights beanos. Who makes every one a little
+uncomfortable, casts a gloom over entertainments--has to be taken in
+hand and dealt with separately from the others--doesn't blend, you
+know."
+
+"You mean some one who isn't the life and soul of the party?"
+
+"No, I don't. That's almost as bad in its way. In fact, the
+life-and-soul-of-the-party person casts almost as great a gloom on the
+rest as a blighter."
+
+"Oh dear! Yes, I see."
+
+"We must meet her at the station in the motor. I shall put on my blue
+serge and my plain sailor. She mustn't see me in the garden without a
+hat, nor in a real one. You do the same, Daphne."
+
+"But my sailor's too large in the head, and that makes it fall over my
+eyes, and that gives it a Frenchy look, like _L'Art et la Mode_,"
+protested Daphne.
+
+"Stuff it with paper. Here's the _Bystander_."
+
+"Oh, isn't it a pity? There's such a pretty picture of----"
+
+"Oh, don't bother."
+
+Mrs. Wyburn was gracious to-day, and all was going well when, about
+half-past five, a telegram, reply paid, was brought. It was addressed to
+Harry.
+
+"What shall we do?"
+
+"Why, keep it till he comes. He'll be back to dinner," Romer said.
+
+"Suppose it's something urgent," said Val, seeming a little agitated.
+"Don't you think perhaps we ought to open it? He won't mind."
+
+"You can't. It's addressed to Harry," said Romer.
+
+Mrs. Wyburn's quick eyes took in some signs of tension, but she
+continued giving them advice about the garden. She thought the flowers
+too florid, and was always a little shocked at the extravagant scent and
+exuberance of the roses. She seemed to think they should be kept more in
+their place--not allowed to climb all over the house, and romp or lean
+about the garden doing just what they liked. She had winced in the
+drawing-room, relented in the dining-room, and refrained, really, only
+in the kitchen, that she had insisted upon seeing. It was the only room
+to the decoration of which she gave whole-hearted praise and approval.
+The cooking at the Green Gate she admitted to be perfect, without
+pretension. In fact, she thought everything in the house a little
+overdone, except the mutton.
+
+"I can't think who that wire can be from," Val said several times to
+Daphne when her mother-in-law had gone. She meant that she could think.
+
+"Well, you'll know directly. Harry's arriving."
+
+Harry found it in the hall, and came in with it.
+
+"You open it for me," he said, giving it to Val.
+
+Since his last instructions to Alec he felt perfectly safe.
+
+She read--
+
+     "_Thousand thanks awfully bucked at letter at Queens' Hotel Cowes
+     for three days could you join us there wire reply fondest love and
+     kisses._
+
+                                                  _Johnson_."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+GLADYS
+
+
+On arriving in London, Vaughan found his secretary with the usual
+heaps of letters. One envelope, addressed in a large and rather
+infantine hand, was put aside for him. The note ran--
+
+                                         "The Baldfaced Stag,
+                                              Edgware.
+
+     "Dear Mr. Vaughan,
+
+     "I eard only yesterday that the play you kindly sent me and mother
+     to was wrote by you, I call it a shame you didn't tell me before,
+     we saw the name on the programme, but never thought it could be the
+     same but yesterday mother saw a piece in the paper about you in the
+     weekly dispatch and she said it was the same, I'm sory I said the
+     people in the play went on silly I beg pardon for calling the play
+     silly I wouldnt have done it if Id known, so hope youre not angry,
+     they seemed to me to go on silly, but I dont reelly know much
+     about those kind of ladies and gentlemen, we saw the piece in the
+     paper only yesterday and mother said it was the same, we hope you
+     will soon come again to tea the calf is better believe me yours
+     truly
+
+                                      "GLADIS ADELAIDE BRILL."
+
+He instantly wrote back--
+
+     "Dear Miss Brill,
+
+     "I am _so_ relieved and thankful to hear the calf is better, all
+     the more because I had no idea it had been indisposed. I fancied,
+     though, it was looking a little pale the last time I had the
+     pleasure of meeting it in the field. Please don't think again of
+     your criticism. It gave me very great pleasure. You must think me
+     very foolish. You could say nothing that I would not like except to
+     ask me not to come and see you. I am very busy just now and so have
+     little time for afternoon calls, but will come one of these days
+     soon.
+
+                                          "Yours always,
+                                    "GILBERT HEREFORD VAUGHAN."
+
+
+
+He waited a moment, and then added--
+
+     "I will turn up to-morrow at four. Try not to forget me till then."
+
+For the rest of the day he was in high spirits. The letter seemed to
+keep him up through the various little bothers of the day. He had been
+going to France for the summer. He admitted to himself that this
+semi-flirtation was keeping him in England. He didn't like the idea of
+going away very long from the possibility of turning up at the
+"Bald-faced Stag."
+
+The explanation Harry gave about Johnson's telegram satisfied Valentia
+for the time, as he declined the invitation to Cowes, but the incident
+left an uneasy feeling in Val's mind. She could not bear to own to
+herself that he was deceiving her, and he hadn't the courage to give it
+away yet, not that he cared so very much about hurting her, but he was
+happier at the Green Gate than anywhere else. He liked the house, the
+atmosphere, and Romer; but what kept him most was, of course, that
+curious charm Valentia had for him, which was perhaps stronger than ever
+because he knew that the end was not far off. He often thought he was a
+fool not to have taken the opportunity to break it off on this occasion.
+He couldn't stand the idea of not seeing her, just because of the way
+her hair grew on her forehead! So low, and in such thick waves! Alec
+Walmer's hair, also fair, was thin and unmeaning. She had a low
+forehead, and yet the hair began high up. In the evening when it was
+carefully arranged, and the iron had entered into it, it looked like a
+stiff transformation, even worse than when left to nature.
+
+But of course, in spite of the reconciliation, a residue of mistrust
+remained, and on his side a sensation of restlessness which left him
+irritable; less amiable and pleasant than usual.
+
+They were sitting on the little terrace. He was smoking and reading the
+paper. He suddenly threw it down and said--
+
+"How quiet you are, Val! Why don't you talk?"
+
+"I don't think I've got anything to say."
+
+"You seem depressed," he said, rather aggressively.
+
+"I feel a little depressed."
+
+Harry gave expression to the usual injustice of the unfaithful.
+
+"What a mistake women make in being gloomy! How foolish it is. Shall I
+tell you the key of the whole situation between men and women?"
+
+"Do."
+
+"Well, dear, it's just--a _smile_. Never be dull, never be ill, never be
+depressed. Be gay--always gay. That's what men like--that's the one
+thing that they go out for and come in for--a smile."
+
+"Your ideal of a woman seems to be a Cheshire cat," she answered,
+looking rather amused. "Your motto is, like the man in _The Arcadians_:
+Always Merry and Bright. Well, I'm sure there's a good deal in it. But
+I'm not usually accused of being a dreary person."
+
+"Of course you're not; you're charming, lively, amusing, sympathetic.
+That's your great attraction, Val. But the last few days you seem rather
+to have lost it."
+
+"You can hardly resent my feeling a little down, Harry. One or two
+little things that have happened lately have made me anxious."
+
+"Never be anxious. You ought to trust, trust--always trust."
+
+"Oh, that's all very well! That wire...."
+
+"Are we going to have that all over again? I thought I'd explained." He
+assumed the air of a patient martyr.
+
+"I know you _explained_ all right. Well, I won't think about it any
+more. Don't be horrid, Harry.... Have you seen this week's _Punch_?
+There's something in it simply _too_ heavenly--such a joke! Let me read
+it to you."
+
+"It's very sweet of you--but do you ever realise----I wonder if it's
+ever struck you, Val, that men aren't always in the mood for heavenly
+jokes? There are times when one likes to think--to see life as it is--to
+discuss abstract things, even."
+
+"Oh! Well ... what do you think of Daphne's dress? Isn't it pretty? It
+was made by Ogburn, all out of nothing, in no time."
+
+He looked at Daphne, who was sitting under a tree reading Cyril's last
+letter over again.
+
+"It's all right. It suits _her_. I don't call _that_ a serious subject."
+
+"What subject would you like, then?"
+
+"Well--Romer, for instance. Where is he?"
+
+"Talking to the gardener about mowing. Do you want him? I'll call him if
+you like."
+
+"Dear Val, it's not quite like you to be ironical to _me_.... You ought
+not to laugh at Romer either. I'm complex, perhaps--I know I am; but it
+jars on me when you do that."
+
+She stared at him.
+
+"Look here--I know I'm tiresome," said Harry, returning to his usual
+caressing manner. "Don't take any notice of it. It's--the weather, I
+think, or want of exercise. I'll go and improvise a little."
+
+He pushed back his chair, and, with a parting look of forgiveness, he
+went into the house and began to improvise (rather dismally) a
+well-known funeral march. Or perhaps it was only a coincidence. Perhaps
+he would have thought of it if Chopin hadn't.
+
+Harry was only musical by fits and starts, and generally either to
+impress some one or because he was out of temper. Val never regarded it
+as a good sign when he grappled with the Steinway.
+
+In ten minutes he had grown tired of his mood of melody, and strolled
+into the rose garden with a book.
+
+Yes, certainly Harry was restless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+THE ANGLES
+
+
+"You're very quiet, Val," remarked Daphne, as they flew along in the
+motor on their way to call on the Prebendary's wife at The Angles.
+
+Both sisters wore little cottage bonnets, blue motor-veils, and large
+loose white coats with high collars.
+
+"How can I talk when we're exceeding the speed limit?" said Valentia.
+
+"You usually do. Is anything the matter?"
+
+"No, nothing at all.... Harry's been horrid lately."
+
+"I suppose he _is_ occasionally."
+
+"No, he's not. He's got the artistic temperament, and of course he can't
+always be the same, poor dear."
+
+"What a pity one can't be an artist without having the artistic
+temperament! It always seems to mean being late for meals, and losing
+your temper, or being amusing when every one wants to go to bed."
+
+"As a matter of fact," said Valentia, "I never knew any one with less of
+it than Harry. There isn't a more hard-headed business man in the world
+in his way, though he _has_ read poetry and plays the piano sometimes,
+and paints. He is an artist too ... but--well, not in any of the
+recognised arts.... I hear Miss Luscombe and Rathbone--I mean Mr. and
+Mrs. Rathbone--have gone to Oberammergau for their honeymoon."
+
+"Oh! Is that the latest thing to do?"
+
+"Of course not, Daphne, but she thinks it is. Miss Luscombe has spent
+her life in trying to catch the last omnibus and always just missing it,
+and she's not going to leave off now just because she happens to be
+married. Here we are!"
+
+The Prebendary's wife received them very graciously. Her waist looked
+longer than ever, and her skirt seemed more than usually abnormal in
+width. She did all that she could to entertain them. She showed them her
+son Garstin's map of Buckinghamshire, and then said--
+
+"I'll send for Mr. Stoendyck. He's upstairs inventing. You can't _think_
+how clever he is and how hard he works. It's really wonderful! We often
+leave him alone for hours to think things out, and sometimes he plays
+sonatas; he says it refreshes him. He really is an extraordinary man."
+
+Mr. Stoendyck came in, looking very martial and scientific and pleased
+with himself, as though he had just invented gunpowder. Mrs. Campbell
+began as usual to talk baby language, and play a kind of Dumb Crambo at
+him. He never seemed able to guess the word.
+
+"I hope we haven't interrupted you in your studies," said Val politely.
+
+"She say she ope she not interrupt. Work, you know. Oeuvre--Arbeit."
+
+"I was just amusing myself with the very witty paper from Germany,
+_Kladderadatsch_. It is very funny," he said.
+
+"It sounds funny," said Val sympathetically.
+
+"What I find in England is that you're all wonderfully serious,
+wonderfully courteous, wonderfully kind"--he bowed to his hostess; "but,
+you'll excuse my saying so, I don't find enough wit or lightness for my
+temperament. For humour I have to go to Belgium or Germany."
+
+He spoke with intense solemnity.
+
+Mrs. Campbell now began to translate him even to himself.
+
+"You say you like fun, wit--just fun to make laugh?" She made strange
+signs with her fingers.
+
+He did not appear to understand the code. He stared at her with a frown,
+and rasped on seriously--
+
+"I find a few comical jokes occasionally a great relief after my heavy
+work. It is very deep work."
+
+"I suppose it would be indiscreet to ask what the invention is?" said
+Valentia, smiling.
+
+"Not at all. There is nothing indiscreet whatever in your curiosity,
+Mrs. Wyburn."
+
+He took a scone covered with butter and swallowed it in an
+extraordinarily short time, and in an ingenious manner.
+
+"No, there's no indiscretion in the matter at all. Do not trouble
+yourself on that score. It is merely the natural interest that a
+cultivated and intellectual English lady would naturally take when she
+hears of an extraordinary invention from another country." He bowed, and
+having thus explained her to herself, he then ate another scone.
+
+"She say she want to know, you know," nodded Mrs. Campbell, putting up a
+playful and threatening finger with dignified coquetry and a stony
+smile. (She was subject to fits of this kind of marble archness
+unexpectedly.)
+
+"Yes. So I understood."
+
+The Belgian was looking at Daphne with distinct admiration. Of course
+Miss Campbell came and sat down beside him. Women always follow their
+instinct to come and sit on the other side of any man whom they regard
+as their property. They seem to think that merely by sitting on the
+other side they protect him from freebooters. As a matter of fact, it
+would be more sensible, if to distract his attention were the object, to
+sit opposite with some one else.
+
+Mr. Stoendyck turned his back on her completely, and said to Daphne--
+
+"Very charming, those motor-veils, and the whole costume. At the same
+time, while being thoroughly practical and sensible, it is, if I may say
+so, extremely becoming."
+
+He bowed with a condescending air, and went on--
+
+"The English young girl--at least, such specimens as I have seen in the
+neighbourhood, especially in the country--seems to me a wonderfully
+beautiful object. In Belgium we are getting on, but we have not reached,
+as yet, the point of freedom combined with modesty that you constantly
+see over here. Particularly, as I say, in rural districts."
+
+He then made what can only be described, vulgarly, as a distinct 'eye.'
+
+Both the Campbells looked uneasy.
+
+"The Prebendary will be in soon," said Mrs. Campbell. "He promised
+faithfully to come back to tea to-day. He also is a very busy man. He
+come in soon," she spoke reassuringly.
+
+Daphne was suddenly taken with a _fou rire_ and began to laugh
+helplessly. Val, seeing her condition, and knowing that when she once
+started there was no hope but in immediate flight, took leave.
+
+They were cordially asked to come again by Mrs. Campbell. But Mr.
+Stoendyck invited them to lunch, and wanted to fix a day and hour. Mrs.
+Campbell, however, declined his invitation for them. Mrs. Wyburn, she
+said, must have a great many engagements.
+
+They left Stoendyck standing in the hall, looking sentimental.
+
+"All foreigners not of the Latin race go on like that," said Val, as
+they drove back. "They may be scientific, or soldiers, philosophers, or
+musicians, but if they're Germans or Belgians or Austrians, or anything
+of that sort, they always get bowled over by a young girl, a blue
+ribbon, plumpness, or fair hair."
+
+"But I'm very thin and dark," said Daphne angrily.
+
+"I don't care if you are. You're a pretty girl, you're unmarried, you've
+got blue chiffon round your head--and there it is.... I don't mean
+Prussian officers, of course."
+
+"_They_ would appreciate _you_, I suppose you mean!"
+
+"One can't say. They'd probably take on anything."
+
+Valentia took out the little looking-glass from her motor-bag, looked at
+it, put it back, and added--
+
+"Anything possible, I mean."
+
+"Go on, Val."
+
+"Go on how?"
+
+"Telling me things. You're so interesting, you know such a lot. Now,
+about the Latin races--wouldn't they like--er--me?"
+
+"Of course they would. But they'd like you better if you were married to
+Cyril or any one. Frenchmen and Italians always want their love-making
+or flirtations to have something in it of the nature of a _score_. They
+love scoring off a third person, whoever it may be,--whether it's their
+friend's wife, or their wife's friend, or anything."
+
+"They're not sincere, then?"
+
+"Don't be silly. If they weren't sincere, why are there nothing but
+unwritten-law crimes all over France and Italy? And why do Parisians
+think and talk of ... nothing else! They're _sincere_ all right: it's
+their hobby. Italians, of course, are more jealous and faithful, and
+Parisians are frightfully vain--there's a good deal of a sort of
+snobbism about it. They love to show off. That's why they're so keen on
+dress."
+
+"Do you think," said Daphne, with sudden anxiety, "that if you don't
+dress to perfection you can't keep a man's love? I _do_ hope not! I mean
+because when I'm married to Cyril I shan't be able to afford to wear
+anything at all, except a clean blouse which I shall have to iron out
+myself, like in _Hearth and Home_."
+
+Valentia shook her head.
+
+"Dressing to perfection doesn't make men love you, silly. It only makes
+women hate you. And I never have yet seen the advantage of that."
+
+"Oh, then, do Parisians want other women to hate you?" asked Daphne. Her
+sister hesitated.
+
+"Sometimes. Very often they don't. They want you to be admired by other
+people, whoever they are, men or women. But in Paris dress counts in a
+different sort of way--it means more--it stands for more. Oh, don't
+bother!"
+
+"Well, give me a straightforward Englishman!" exclaimed Daphne.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" replied Val. "That Belgian Herr, anyhow, doesn't count. I
+can't think why Mrs. Preb. and Miss Campbell are so much in love with
+him."
+
+"Isn't it funny? Why do you think it is, Val?"
+
+"Perhaps it's because he's a man. You see, they're accustomed to
+curates."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+AT EDGWARE
+
+
+Miss Brill had twisted up her hair and put on her Sunday dress to
+receive Vaughan.
+
+To harmonise with the Dickens's garden it ought to have been white
+muslin with flounces and a pink sash. But it was a quite long, dark blue
+Liberty satin, made by a smart dressmaker in the Finchley Road. It had a
+high collar, an Empire waist, and gathers.
+
+Her mother was delighted with it. Gladys had not been quite satisfied
+herself, and had tried to tie it in round the ankles with concealed
+string, to make it look more like a nobble skirt, as she called it.
+
+Her almost too abundant hair had been piled over a pad, which gave her
+the appearance of having a swollen head. Yet even so she looked lovely,
+rather like an old-fashioned picture in the Academy of _I'se Gan'ma_, or
+something of the kind, suggesting a baby disguised as a
+grown-up-person.
+
+Vaughan went through the usual ritual of asking after Mrs. Brill--he
+rather hurried Mr. Brill over his remark about the finest woman one
+would see in a day's march--then admired the weather, ordered tea, and
+asked for Miss Brill.
+
+Gladys came and sat down with a rather shy, self-conscious air.
+
+She soon lost it, however, and began to get natural again.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Vaughan! I _never_ was more surprised than I was at that piece
+in the paper! And mother come over quite queer, she was so surprised.
+You were kind in your letter to forgive me for being rude. Who'd ever
+have thought you was clever?"
+
+"Who, indeed! But, Gladys, why this get-up? Why are you dressed up in
+satin and dark colours on a summer day?"
+
+"Why, mother said a nice navy blue was always useful. I'd rather have
+had a Cambridge blue myself. Mother says navy blue's so ladylike. Don't
+you like it?"
+
+"Charming. But I don't like what you've done to your hair."
+
+"Don't you, though? Fancy! Well, I don't seem to care much for it
+myself. It's a Pompadour, you know--a pad."
+
+"Take it off," said Vaughan.
+
+"Oh, I can't!"
+
+"All right, _I_ will. Come in the field."
+
+"Well, I don't mind if you do. I'll say I took my hair down because it
+was heavy."
+
+"You've tried to spoil yourself, but you haven't succeeded. Why did you
+do it, Gladys?"
+
+"Seeing you was clever, I thought pr'aps I'd better try to look more
+grown-up."
+
+"Ah! what a mistake! Your great charm is that you're such a regular
+J.F."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"A _jeune fille_."
+
+"What does that mean? What's a J.F. in English?"
+
+"A jolly flapper."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+In the field Vaughan, with several interruptions and reproaches for
+being a caution, managed to take the pad off her head and to throw it in
+the field. But an unfortunate thing happened. All the corn-coloured hair
+fell down over his face and he had kissed her--by accident--before he
+knew it.
+
+"Oh, I say! You are a caution!" was her only remark. But she did not
+laugh, and as she hastily did a little amateur coiffing, he thought she
+looked slightly annoyed. At any rate, she hadn't much more to say to
+him, and he went back to London almost immediately, feeling quite
+absurdly agitated about such an unimportant trifle.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+An hour later, when quietly at home in his study, Vaughan was suddenly
+seized by that species of madness that has been known to wreck careers, "to
+launch a thousand ships," to cause all kinds of chaos. It was that terrible
+_once-on-board-the-lugger-and-the-girl-is-mine-I-must-and-shall-possess-her_
+feeling in its most acute form. Most men have known it at some time in
+their lives. He thought of Harry de Freyne, and felt noble and superior
+in contrast to what _his_ conduct would have been, as he sat down and
+wrote with intense pleasure--
+
+     "Darling Gladys,
+
+     "I love you. Will you marry me? Please try. I'm writing to your
+     father. Don't keep me waiting long for the answer.
+
+                                            "Yours for always,
+                                                "GILLIE."
+
+He then wrote a long and sensible letter to Mr. Brill; all business,
+respect, and urgency, saying he knew that Gladys was very young, but
+that he would make her happy, and so forth.
+
+These two letters he sent off by express messenger in a taxicab to the
+"Bald-faced Stag," and then sat down to dinner.
+
+What a dinner! And what an evening he spent! He planned a long
+journey--what fun to show the child new places and things! Why shouldn't
+he marry the charming, refined, and beautiful daughter of an
+hotel-keeper? He decided even on alterations in the house, and he meant
+to be ecstatically happy.
+
+What did he care for people? He had never lived either to _epater_ the
+_bourgeois_ or to satisfy the ideal of the gentleman next door. He was
+going to do something _he_ liked!...
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+He woke up the next morning at six o'clock with a ghastly chilly horror
+on him. What had he done? Had he been mad? To marry Miss Brill, the
+daughter of the landlord of a little suburban public-house! A girl of
+sixteen, pretty enough certainly, but with no pretensions to being a
+lady, no possibility of having anything in common with him. But it
+wasn't so much the question of what people would say--of course, most of
+the women he knew would drop him, and the men would laugh at him and
+make love to her--but, how long would it last? How long would this
+strange mania endure? Perhaps not a week. The poor child would have an
+awful time, too. She was much happier as she was.
+
+Well! He was a sportsman, and had taken the risk. He must wait now. At
+the back of his mind he was wondering how he could get out of it.
+
+He had not to wait long. His letters were answered by the first post.
+Evidently, the "Bald-faced Stag" had been kept up late that night to
+reply in time.
+
+Gladys wrote very respectfully that she was very sorry she hadn't told
+him before, but she was privately engaged to the son of the landlord of
+the Green Man at Stanmore: the Eldest Son, she wrote with pride (as
+though he would inherit the title). She was awfully sorry. Besides, she
+was going to be a manicure, first, for two years, and then settle down
+at Stanmore. Her fiance was twenty-one. She hoped Mr. Vaughan would come
+over to tea very soon, and she thought his letter was very kind, and
+remained his truly, Gladys Brill.
+
+Mr. Brill had written a long and slightly rambling letter which
+suggested rough copies and even some assistance from the old vintages of
+the "Bald-faced Stag." He refused most firmly, though thoroughly
+sensible of the honour done him by Mr. Vaughan's offer, but he couldn't
+go back on his word to his friend at the Green Man. The arrangement had
+been made, when Gladys and the son were in their cradles, by him and
+his pal of the Green Man and he couldn't go back on his word. And Gladys
+liked the young chap; and it was a great honour, indeed, that Mr.
+Vaughan had done them, and it would have been splendid for Gladys in the
+worldly sense. But there! it was better, perhaps, not to mix up
+Stations. Mr. Brill repeated this sentiment over and over again, always
+using a capital S for station--(as though Vaughan had expressed an
+insane desire to confuse Victoria with the Great Western). And he
+remained very respectfully, Tom Brill.
+
+"A manicure in Bond Street and then the landlady of a common country
+inn! Never! She shan't! I'll go down and persuade her. I'll make them
+come round."
+
+Vaughan was so hurt and disappointed that he felt he could never smile
+again.
+
+But he did.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+TENSION
+
+
+When the sisters came back from their drive Harry was sitting on the
+little marble terrace reading _Count Florio and Phillis K._ and smoking
+cigarettes. With almost conjugal unfairness he complained that Valentia
+always went out just before he arrived. In fact, he had begged her to
+get the visit over that afternoon, as he intended to be late.
+
+Valentia sat down and began a lively account of "The Angles," but he
+implored her not to describe those awful people at home, and
+particularly not to tell him anything about that poisonous Belgian. Then
+he told Val that blue didn't suit her, and, when she agreed with him,
+petulantly complained that she had no ideas of her own.
+
+"But I had an idea of my own; only now you say it's wrong."
+
+"So it is. But, even if it is wrong, you should stick to it. You should
+have more individuality."
+
+"What an awful word," she said.
+
+"What's the matter with the word?"
+
+"Nothing. It's so long."
+
+"You're talking nonsense, Valentia."
+
+"Well, why shouldn't I talk nonsense? I'm sure I've heard you say
+there's nothing so depressing as a woman with no nonsense about her."
+
+"I know. But there needn't be nothing else."
+
+"Harry, are you trying to quarrel? If so I'd better go away."
+
+"Oh, all right! Very well! Do as you like," said Harry. "It seems a
+curious way to treat a guest: to go out when you expect him, and then
+the moment you come in to make an excuse to leave him alone again. But
+please yourself!"
+
+He took up his book and turned away.
+
+Valentia went into the house, to her room, and sat down opposite the
+looking-glass with a sigh. It was at moments like these that she
+sometimes thought, with a slight reaction, of Romer. Romer was never
+capricious, never irritable, never trying. It was true that he rarely
+answered her except in monosyllables, but yet she knew that he delighted
+in and tacitly encouraged her fluency. He did not respond to every idea
+she expressed as Harry did (when Harry was in a good temper), but she
+knew she had no better audience. His extreme quietness might be
+admitted, occasionally, to cast a slight gloom, but negatively what
+enormous advantages his silence had! Romer never scolded, never laid
+down the law; never thought it necessary to give her long, minute,
+detailed accounts of his impressions of art, or life, or literature;
+never insisted on pointing out, as if it were a matter of life and
+death, precisely where he differed in his opinions of a book, a play, or
+an incident, from the criticisms in the daily papers. Nor did he refer
+to some annoying past incident half a dozen times a day as a sealed
+subject. He had other qualities. He could take tickets, he could sign
+cheques (and even seemed to like doing it). He could see about things.
+He wasn't selfish. Yes, Valentia thought, when she saw Harry at his
+worst, that perhaps she didn't really quite appreciate her husband. How
+irritating Harry would have been in that capacity!
+
+Daphne came in, and Valentia went on, as usual, with her thoughts aloud.
+
+"Wouldn't Harry be a maddening husband?" she said as she brushed out her
+hair.
+
+"Oh! Would he? In what way?"
+
+"He'd be so selfish, so obtrusive--he'd always want you to do exactly
+what he liked, just when he liked, and never when he didn't, or when you
+liked, I mean."
+
+"How could he like you to do what he liked when he didn't like? That
+would be expecting too much. I don't see what you mean, Val."
+
+"I only mean that when he's in a bad temper Harry's tiresome, and if he
+were married he'd be in one oftener."
+
+"Oh dear! Are most men bad-tempered when they're married, Val?"
+
+"Yes. Nearly always."
+
+"_What?_ Then, will Cyril ..."
+
+"Cyril's a pleasant, easy-going boy, but, as you won't have enough
+money, he's sure to be bad-tempered at times."
+
+"Then aren't married men bad-tempered when they have plenty of money,
+Val?"
+
+"Oh, if they have a great deal they're awfully bad-tempered, too;
+because, you see, then they lose it, or if they don't do that they're
+always trying to enjoy themselves with it and finding the enjoyment
+flat, and then they blame their wives. Besides, anyhow, having enough
+money leads to all sorts of complications."
+
+"Oh dear! Then what do you advise?" Daphne hung on Valentia's words,
+respecting her superior knowledge and experience.
+
+"Oh, I advise enough, anyhow. It can't make you happy, but it can avoid
+certain troubles. Love in a cottage is only all right for the week-end
+when you have a nice house in London as well, and a season ticket or a
+motor, and electric light and things, and a telephone. Oh, by the way,
+our telephone here is eating its head off. We never use it. Go and ring
+up to the grocer, not to forget to send the things, will you, dear? He's
+got a telephone, too--the only tradesman in the village who has."
+
+"What things isn't he to forget to send?"
+
+"How should I know?--the usual things. He never does forget, but it
+looks well to remind him, and the 'phone needs exercise."
+
+"All right. But before I go, Val--suppose you can't have the sort of
+love-in-a-cottage you mean, and there's no fear of your being so rich
+that it makes you miserable, what is the best thing to do?"
+
+"Why, I suppose the old business in the old novels, a competence with
+the man of your heart, would do all right."
+
+Daphne looked pleased.
+
+"For six months, anyhow. Or a year or two, perhaps," Val added.
+
+"Oh dear!" cried Daphne again, as she left the room.
+
+"Poor pet," Val murmured to herself. "I hope I'm not teaching her to be
+cynical."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+GOOD-BYE
+
+
+The only person in the family who did not thoroughly approve of Gladys's
+decision was her mother. Mrs. Brill thought it sheer madness to decline
+proposals of a 'gentleman from the West End,' as she called him; so
+clever and so rich, so handsome and so much in love. She was romantic
+and yet worldly in her views, and was much excited at the idea of the
+rivalry for her daughter. There were bitter scenes between Mr. and Mrs.
+Brill on the subject. Mr. Brill was not romantic nor worldly, but he was
+very sentimental, and he didn't hold with breaking his word to the Green
+Man, nor indeed with that mixing up of Stations to which he had already
+alluded.
+
+Between the opposing views of her parents Gladys became somewhat
+bewildered. She liked the son of the Green Man (he was in reality only a
+green boy, but good-looking, and she had always known him), and she
+wished to be loyal to him. Yet her mother's remarks about Mr. Vaughan
+began to appeal to her imagination, such as it was. She was rather
+dazzled and began to weaken. She was at the age when one can really be
+in love with anybody, and she was flattered. Though she felt she would
+feel more at home with her childhood's friend, she began, very slightly,
+to look down upon him when she compared him with Gillie.
+
+Vaughan came down the day after he had received her letter, and behaved
+precisely as usual.
+
+Mr. Brill, meeting him with a rather shamefaced air in the garden, said
+straightforwardly--
+
+"Very pleased indeed to see you, Mr. Vaughan. You got my letter, sir?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. To my sorrow. I want to talk to you about it."
+
+"Well, I was sorry to write it, sir, if you take my meaning. But there!
+Well, Mrs. Brill 'as expressed a wish for a few words with you, if you
+wouldn't mind."
+
+"I shall be delighted, of course. But--may I see Gladys?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir. Tea and bread and butter? The usual thing?"
+
+"Yes, please. As usual." Mr. Brill lingered.
+
+"Ave some watercress with it, sir," he added sympathetically, "or we've
+got some very nice little radishes. Ow about them?"
+
+Vaughan nearly laughed.
+
+"No, thank you! I'm afraid they wouldn't be any use to me, Mr. Brill."
+
+"Ha, ha! You will have your joke!"
+
+Mr. Brill went in and told his wife that Mr. Vaughan was "sitting there
+looking that miserable it was enough to make one's heart ache."
+
+With this satisfactory intelligence he sent Gladys into the garden.
+
+She was all blushes and shyness. Her hair had gone back into the long
+plait, and she wore her schoolgirl dress again.
+
+"You're too proud, Gladys!" he said reproachfully. "Why did you never
+tell me of your engagement?"
+
+"Why, I didn't ardly count it to interest you, Mr. Vaughan. Besides,
+it's not to be for two years."
+
+"Are you in love with him?"
+
+"Why, what a question! I _like_ him. He's a nice boy."
+
+"I suppose he's very much in love with you?"
+
+"Oh, he's all right."
+
+"That was a very cruel letter you wrote me, Gladys."
+
+"I was afraid you'd think it rude," she answered apologetically.
+
+"No, dear. It isn't rude to refuse a proposal. You can't accept them
+all, can you?"
+
+"You've made a wretched tea, Mr. Vaughan. Is there anything else you'd
+like?"
+
+"Yes, I want to go in the field again, like the day before yesterday."
+
+"Was it only the day before yesterday? So it was. A lot seems to ave
+appened since. Well, come along."
+
+She looked such an absolute child as she climbed the gate that Gillie
+felt almost ashamed of his proposal, and thought that probably her
+father was quite right.... But her face was so exactly like Sir Joshua
+Reynolds' angels' heads, she might have sat for them. She was too
+absurdly pretty. And sweet, too, he thought. She had no vulgar
+pretensions, she was simple. She only wanted a little polish. He could
+teach her everything necessary. No task could have been more
+congenial....
+
+"So you think I'm too old for you. Is that it?"
+
+"No, it isn't. It isn't that. It's what father told you."
+
+"Would you hate to go for a long journey with me, to see other places,
+other countries?"
+
+"Oh no; I'd like it. We went to Clacton last summer. It _was_ fun."
+
+He thought a little.
+
+"Gladys, as you're so young, won't you leave the whole thing in abeyance
+for a time?"
+
+"In what, did you say?"
+
+"Undecided. Let me come and talk to you about it in six months. The only
+thing I can't bear you to do is to be a manicure. I'm going to speak to
+your mother about it. I can't stand it."
+
+"Oh, why, Mr. Vaughan? I should have thought it was nice for me to sort
+of better myself."
+
+"Nonsense. Far better stay here. Well, will you agree to that?"
+
+"To give up the manicuring and to leave the engagement open like? Is
+that what you mean?"
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+She thought a minute.
+
+"I really don't see how I can. And--my boy would feel it something cruel
+if I put him off like that."
+
+"When do you see him?" he asked jealously.
+
+"Why, on Sundays. Only on Sundays."
+
+"Ah, that's why I've never seen him. I wondered why I'd never met my
+hated rival."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Oh, now, you're going on silly, like the people in the play!... I don't
+believe you alf mean it."
+
+"Don't you believe I love you?"
+
+"How can you? You don't ardly know me, except as a friend."
+
+"I'll tell you why I love you if you like, dearest."
+
+"Well, why?" She spoke with girlish curiosity.
+
+"Because you're lovely, and lovable, and sweet. Because you're a
+darling."
+
+"Oh, I say!"
+
+"Doesn't your boy, as you call him, say these things to you?"
+
+"Not like that. I only see him on Sundays."
+
+"And does he kiss you on Sundays?"
+
+"Oh yes."
+
+Vaughan got up.
+
+"All right, I won't worry you any more.... I'll let you be happy in your
+own way, dear.... I must go now."
+
+"Oh, _must_ you?"
+
+She seemed very disappointed.
+
+"Yes, I'm going to France."
+
+"What, to-day?"
+
+"No, next week."
+
+"Oh, I am sorry."
+
+"Good-bye, dear."
+
+He went in and bid adieu to Mr. and Mrs. Brill and the "Bald-faced Stag"
+for ever. He said to her father that he was resigned.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+As soon as he had gone, Gladys went upstairs to her room, looked in the
+glass, then burst out crying.
+
+She had fallen in love with Gillie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+ROMER OVERHEARS
+
+
+Romer started to go by himself for a five-mile walk, leaving Daphne,
+Valentia and Harry in the garden, but a nail in his boot hurt so much
+that, after the first half-mile, Romer decided he couldn't stand it any
+longer, and would walk back, go quietly in, and then surprise them by
+coming to tea in the garden.
+
+He was gone a very short time, but he hastened his steps, looking
+forward immensely to the removal of the boot, and also to seeing
+Valentia again.
+
+Lately he had been more than ever devoted to her. Ever since they had
+been at the Green Gate she had been specially gentle and charming--but
+not nearly so lively as usual. Sometimes she looked quite anxious and
+preoccupied. He thought, too, that she was occasionally irritable; which
+was unlike her--and her spirits varied continually.
+
+He asked her one day what was the matter, and she assured him that
+there was nothing, so he believed her. But he was always thinking about
+her, trying to find some means to please her. He was dissatisfied about
+her.
+
+He came back, went into his room, and his spirits incalculably raised by
+the cessation of the torture, he went and sat by the window, and looked
+out at the lovely garden.
+
+It was a hot summer day; a little wind was in the trees.
+
+Exactly under the window, on the little verandah, sat Harry with
+Valentia. Daphne was no longer there.
+
+They were talking; and talking, it seemed to him, in an agitated way.
+
+Leaning a little over he could see Valentia on a bamboo chair. To his
+horror he saw that she was crying.
+
+Harry, speaking in a suppressed but rather angry voice, appeared to be
+trying to comfort her.
+
+Without a second's hesitation or a moment's scruple, Romer intently
+listened. He did not hide or draw behind the curtain. He remained in
+full view, in the window, so that they could see him easily if they
+happened to look up. But they did not; they were far too much
+preoccupied.... He heard Harry speaking volubly, saying, in a tone of
+irritated apology and explanation--
+
+"My dear girl, I do wish to heaven you wouldn't take it like that. I
+haven't changed--I never shall. I don't care two straws about Miss
+Walmer. But really, it is such a splendid chance for me! You ought no
+more to expect me to give it up than any other good business opportunity
+that might crop up."
+
+"I should never see you again," she answered, her voice broken by sobs.
+
+"Yes, you would. We should be the same as ever. You know we can't do
+without each other. You're part of my life."
+
+He spoke casually, but with irritation, as if mentioning a self-evident
+fact.
+
+"Oh yes, you say that," she answered sadly. "But nothing could alter the
+fact that you wish to be treacherous, and throw me over--and just for
+money! It's simply degrading. It's all nonsense to say it will be just
+the same!"
+
+"Well, of course--for a time--immediately after the marriage--it
+couldn't be; but it would gradually drift into very much the same."
+
+"It wouldn't, even if it could, because I should never see you again,"
+she repeated.
+
+Harry stood up with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders raised.
+
+Romer could see his face quite plainly, and wondered at its hard,
+selfish, almost cruel expression.
+
+"Well, if you won't you won't," he said. "How can I waste all my life
+dangling after a woman who is married to somebody else? I should be only
+too delighted--if I could afford it. But I can't, and that's the brutal
+truth. And then, you know, there has been a little talk. That
+mother-in-law of yours has been gossiping about us. Some day, Romer's
+bound to get hold of it, and then where shall we be? Don't you see,
+dear," he went on more gently, "this will stop all that? Wouldn't it be
+better for me to be married--just in this official sort of way--to
+remain in England, and be able to see you just the same as ever--very
+soon--than to go out to the colonies or somewhere, and never see you
+again at all? There's no doubt I've got to do something. I'm in a
+frightful hole. Seven thousand a year--a place in the country--and a
+decent sort of girl, dropped down on me, as it were, from heaven! I
+hadn't the slightest idea of such luck--and hadn't any pretensions to
+it. But the girl has taken a liking to me, and her mother wants to get
+her married. It's ugly--unromantic--but there are the facts. If you
+cared for me really, I shouldn't think you would want to stand in my
+way."
+
+"Very well, do it, then," she said, drying her eyes. "If you can speak
+in this heartless way it shows you are very different from what I
+believed you. But it will kill me; I shall never get over it."
+
+She was rushing away when Harry caught her hand and stopped her.
+
+"Listen," he said, in an impressive voice. "Go to your room, bathe your
+eyes, and calm yourself down. Make no more scenes, for heaven's sake,
+and we'll see what can be done."
+
+"Oh, Harry, really--_is_ there any hope? Or are you deceiving me again?"
+
+"I've almost agreed to it, you know," he said. "Still, there's not what
+one could call an actual engagement yet. At any rate, it might be
+delayed. I'll see; I'll think--really if I weren't so hard up I wouldn't
+do it."
+
+"Oh, Harry!" A gleam of joy came into her eyes, and she clasped her
+hands.
+
+"Then you won't worry me any more about it for the next few days?" he
+asked.
+
+"I promise;" and smiling sweetly through her tears she left him, going
+into the house. Her room, on the same floor as Romer's, was at the other
+end of the corridor, so she did not even pass his door, and had not the
+slightest idea that he was at home.
+
+He was still at the window, looking out apparently at the garden.
+
+Harry gave an impatient sigh, lit a cigarette and strolled off through
+the garden.
+
+It had been about three o'clock when Romer had come in and sat down by
+the window. He was still there in precisely the same position at seven,
+when his valet brought his hot water.
+
+But Romer could not dress and go down to dinner. He could not see them
+till he had made up his mind what to do. He always thought slowly, and
+now he was acutely anxious to make no mistake. He felt that by the
+slightest wrong move he might lose Valentia altogether. That, at least,
+was his instinctive dread. He sent Valentia a message that he had to go
+up to London to see his mother, and would be back the next day. He
+arranged that she did not get the message till he was driving to the
+station--just before dinner.
+
+He went up to London and stayed at an hotel, but did not go to his
+mother's, and thought nearly all night till he had made a resolution.
+Then he slept till nine o'clock, feeling much happier. He remembered
+clearly that Harry was coming to town and going to the studio on this
+day, as he often did. He calculated that he would be likely to arrive by
+the quick early morning train, and was standing waiting at the door of
+the studio at twelve o'clock when Harry drove up, looking intensely
+surprised, with hand outstretched, cordial and delighted.
+
+"My dear fellow, how jolly of you to remember I was coming up! Come in,
+come in! I've only got this bothering business to attend to, then we'll
+lunch together, and go back by the four train, shall we? You won't have
+to stop on here, will you?"
+
+"I don't know," said Romer, as he followed Harry.
+
+"Your mother's not ill, I hope," said Harry, throwing himself into an
+arm-chair.
+
+"I don't think so," said Romer; "she's at Bournemouth."
+
+"Bournemouth! How like her! But you haven't been down there to see her?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Don't think so."
+
+"Then it isn't your mother that brought you up to town, old chap?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Is anything wrong?" asked Harry, after a moment's pause.
+
+It struck him that Romer looked very odd, and as he noted a slightly
+greyish tinge in Romer's face, he turned pale himself under his becoming
+sunburn.
+
+"What is the matter?" repeated Harry, who could not be quiet. His
+weakness lay in the fact that he never, under any circumstances, could
+entirely "hold his tongue."
+
+Romer put down his stick and hat, which he had been holding, took a
+chair exactly opposite Harry, stared him in the face, and said in a dry,
+hard voice, much less slowly than usual--
+
+"There's something I wish you to do."
+
+"You wish me to----"
+
+"Yes. Write to Miss Walmer definitely breaking off your engagement."
+
+"My--engagement?"
+
+"I heard what you said yesterday afternoon. I came back from my
+walk--there was a nail in my boot. I heard every word from the window in
+my room."
+
+"You listened?"
+
+"Yes, I listened."
+
+"Romer, my dear fellow, I swear to you that ..."
+
+"Don't swear anything to me," said Romer quietly. "And don't dare to
+defend Valentia to me.... I advise you not."
+
+Harry was silent, utterly bewildered.
+
+"I find that your----friendship, instead of being a pleasure to her, is
+making her miserable. For some reason she likes to have you about. She
+doesn't wish you to marry Miss Walmer. Well, you shan't! Do you hear
+that? You shan't! You're not going to marry that girl and then come
+dangling about again."
+
+He waited a minute and then said--
+
+"Valentia's got to be happy. You're not going to have everything _you_
+want. You can surely make a little sacrifice to be her friend!" Then for
+one moment only Romer nearly lost his control. He said--
+
+"We've been married five years, and I've never said a word or done a
+thing that she didn't like. And _you_ made her cry. You! You made her
+cry!"
+
+"My dear Romer, I assure you it's all ..."
+
+Romer interrupted him in a low voice, impatiently.
+
+"Oh, shut up, will you? I want no talk or discussion. I want only one
+thing. You're to write immediately, definitely putting an end to this
+engagement. While you write the letter I'll wait, and then I'll post it
+myself. Will you do it?"
+
+"My dear fellow, of course I'll do anything. But how strange you are! I
+should have thought----"
+
+"I don't want to know what you would have thought, and I don't care a
+straw what you think of my attitude. On condition you do what I say, I
+shall never refer to the subject again, and everything shall be as it
+has been."
+
+Harry was obviously greatly relieved.
+
+"I will do whatever you wish," he said, looking and feeling ashamed of
+himself.
+
+Seeing that Romer was evidently in a hurry for the letter, he drew
+writing materials to him.
+
+Then Romer said--
+
+"One more thing. You are not to tell Valentia anything about this. She's
+not to know I overheard. I won't have her distressed. Remember that."
+
+"I give you my word of honour," said Harry.
+
+"Very well. And when I've posted the letter we'll wipe out the whole
+thing. Don't even say you saw me in town."
+
+"Of course I won't."
+
+As Harry bent his head low over the writing-table, Romer, who was
+sitting motionless, looked at a curious dagger that was hanging on the
+wall, with a horrible sudden longing to plunge it in Harry's neck....
+Horrified at his own fancy, he looked away from it and thought of
+Valentia. Valentia would smile and be happy now, and everything would go
+smoothly again. He would not have to say anything painful to her; she
+would never be uncomfortable in his presence. In time she would probably
+grow tired of Harry and could turn to him, Romer, again, with more
+affection than if anything painful had passed between them.... His
+attitude had been extraordinarily unselfish, and yet it had its root in
+the deep scheming selfishness and subtle calculation of the passion of
+love. To get Valentia back, as he vaguely hoped, some time, however
+distant, he had acted most wisely, and he knew it. For he cared for her
+far too much ever to have conventional thoughts on the subject. It never
+even occurred to him to try to act as the husband ought to act, or as by
+the incessant insidious influence of plays and novels most of us have
+been brought up to think he ought to act. Most people are far more
+guided than they know in their views of life by the artificial
+conventions of the theatre and of literature, or by tradition. In fact,
+most people are other people. Romer was himself. He thought simply for
+himself, like a child. And so it happened that he acted in a crisis
+terrible to him, more wisely for his own interest than the most
+sophisticated of men....
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+"Here is the letter. Will you read it?"
+
+Romer read it and put it back in the envelope. Then he said--
+
+"All right. You're going back to the Green Gate this afternoon?"
+
+"If I may."
+
+"I shall be back to-morrow," said Romer, in his ordinary voice.
+
+Harry accompanied him to the door and held out his hand.
+
+Romer hesitated a moment. Then he said--
+
+"Good-bye," with a nod, and went away, taking no notice of it.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+"By Jove!" said Harry, to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE LIMIT
+
+
+Romer went back to his hotel that evening feeling happier than he had
+ever expected to be again. He felt sure now that everything would be
+perfectly right. He refused to allow himself to dwell for a moment on
+possibilities, and on what had been, or on what might have been. But he
+was like a man who had been slightly stunned by a blow on the head and
+was beginning to feel the pain the next day. Yet the pain was not very
+acute; he did not quite realise it, but, unconsciously, it made him
+feverish. And he was still a little stupefied. It did not occur to him
+to go to the Club, or to look up any friends, and he remained in the
+little hotel in Jermyn Street, filled at this time of the year
+principally by Americans, and he dined alone there--dined well, and
+smoked a long cigar. Then he went for a walk. London at the beginning of
+August was not empty, but stale, crowded, untidy, hot--unlike itself. He
+tried not to think of the garden of the Green Gate. Suddenly, with a
+stab, he imagined Harry and Valentia; probably now he was telling her
+that the engagement was broken off, and she was smiling and happy. Well!
+it was what he wished. Since what had happened he felt his great love
+for Valentia was much less vivid than it had been. He cared for her more
+remotely. She seemed at a great distance. He thought that he felt more
+to her as if she were a dear sister and living far away. Yes, that was
+it; he loved her now like a sister.
+
+Surprised at his own calm, and much pleased with his behaviour in the
+matter, he retired to bed. The instant he had closed his eyes he seemed
+to see, with the clearness of an hallucination, Harry's head bending low
+over the writing-table, and, hanging above him on the wall of the
+studio, the curious dagger; a Japanese weapon that was one of Harry's
+treasures. And Romer felt again precisely the same horrible longing that
+he had felt that morning at the studio--the sudden longing to plunge it
+into Harry's neck. Horrified at the fancy and at himself, he turned up
+the light and tried to read. He could not fix his attention on a word of
+the article "Silk and Stuff" in the _Pall Mall_....
+
+Of course he was not angry with Valentia; how could she help it? She
+must be made happy. But she seemed dim, distant, remote. It was an
+effort to recall her face.... Harry--Harry did not seem very real to him
+either. It was all unreal. But he, Romer, had done the right thing.
+Harry would never make her cry again.
+
+Everything would go on as before. And _he_ had never said a word that it
+would be painful for them both to remember. There was nothing
+uncomfortable between them. He felt she would grow tired of Harry of her
+own accord, and would then return to him, Romer, with no disagreeable
+recollection of scenes, nor of their having said horrible things to one
+another. Yes, he had been quite right. Yet she did not seem to him so
+near as she used to be. He was not angry with her.... No, of course not.
+He was not jealous. Perhaps she seemed more remote, more distant,
+because he felt a certain coldness, and--yes--the coldness was there
+because he was a little hurt perhaps.... And then he tried to go to
+sleep again. But instantly his insane vision came back, and he got up
+and walked round the room and tried to banish it.... At last he really
+went to sleep, and awoke trembling with horror. He had had a horrible
+dream. He dreamt that Harry was writing a letter, and that he had taken
+the dagger from the wall of the studio and killed him. This was simply
+horrible.
+
+Then he began to realise the reason. It was subconscious jealousy. Then
+he saw that he had set himself a task too big for him, and that he could
+not endure to see Harry with Valentia now. It would be impossible to
+bear it. He would have to tell him to go. He had mistaken his own
+feelings. What he had heard on the verandah, what he had imagined, could
+never be obliterated. Indeed, he saw clearly that if he tried to endure
+it he would break down. The effort would lead to madness.--It was
+impossible.... He had sent Harry back to her! He had actually sent him;
+it was unbearable.
+
+He would go back the next day, take Harry aside, and tell him that he
+had found he couldn't bear it, and that on some pretext he must go away.
+He would tell him that he had reached the limit of his endurance and
+could bear no more. He would never speak of it to Valentia. Valentia
+would be sad--but that could not be helped. He knew, now, that he could
+not endure the sight of Harry again.
+
+Having made this resolution, he became much calmer. But the dream
+recurred each time he went to sleep until, in dread of it, he resolved
+to sleep no more. His nerves felt shattered.
+
+And then, he began to count the minutes till he could be back at the
+Green Gate. To see Valentia again and to banish Harry for ever! And all
+the obvious, human feelings that he thought he was free from had come
+back. He broke down; bitter tears of self-pity, of sentiment, and of
+heartbroken humiliation fell from his eyes. He remembered their
+engagement and their honeymoon, and then the eternal and everlasting
+amusing cousin; Harry, and his sickening good looks and ceaseless
+chatter. No more of it, by heaven! It would be something worth having
+lived for to have no more of the brilliant Harry. He saw now that he had
+always been subconsciously jealous of him--that he had always loathed
+and hated him. And rightly, by instinct; for not only had he done the
+most unpardonable injury one friend can do to another, without a scruple
+and without a hesitation, but he had shown the same baseness to her. He
+made her unhappy. He made her cry. He wanted to marry for money and come
+back again, treacherous to every one--hard, heartless, selfish, vulgar
+in mind and in attitude to life. Romer hated him.
+
+Well! Romer would tell him that very day that he had changed his mind
+and that he was to go anywhere--anyhow--only to go. Neither he nor
+Valentia should ever see him again.
+
+Valentia seemed a long way off. She seemed remote and distant. That was
+because he was still hurt and angry. When Harry had once gone, perhaps
+she would seem near again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+RECONCILIATION
+
+
+Romer had made one mistake in his calculations. He had forgotten that
+Harry was a talker. He fully believed that the young man would go back
+and get all possible credit from Valentia for breaking off the
+engagement, and would adhere to the very letter of their strange
+agreement. This, indeed, Harry fully intended to do. When he first went
+back he told her, to her immense joy and satisfaction, merely that he
+had broken it off. But when some people who had come to dinner had gone
+away and she and Harry could be alone, the habit of confidential gossip,
+the habit, especially, of impressing and surprising her, and, above all,
+the inability to keep to himself anything so amazing, was too strong for
+him.
+
+Picturesquely, vividly, and quite amusingly Harry told her every word of
+the story; first exacting a solemn promise not to repeat it.
+
+"Isn't he _impayable_? Isn't he a marvel? No, Valentia, don't look so
+grave, or I shall think you've lost your sense of humour."
+
+"But do you believe he really thinks----"
+
+"He doesn't think," said Harry, stopping her. "He won't think. You're
+faultless in his eyes. He would never allow himself to imagine you
+anything else. Valentia, this is a wonderful situation--you don't
+appreciate it! It's unheard of! He particularly wished that everything
+should go on as before."
+
+He took her hand. She immediately took it away and drew back coldly.
+
+"A wonderful situation! Do you think Van Buren will enjoy it?" she asked
+satirically.
+
+"Van Buren! What on earth do you mean, Val? Do you suppose for a minute
+that I'd talk about it?"
+
+"I know you will. You couldn't resist it. It's _impayable_ you say....
+Oh, but it was mean of you to tell me!"
+
+"Mean!" cried Harry indignantly. "Why, it was very generous! I might
+easily have pleased you very much more by saying I broke it off quite of
+my own accord."
+
+"That wasn't why you told me. You wanted me to laugh at Romer and think
+him ridiculous."
+
+"I don't at all. I was in the ridiculous position. Be a woman of the
+world, Val. Don't talk bosh! We shall soon forget it happened."
+
+"I shall never forget," she answered. "And things _can't_ go on as they
+were, because I think he's behaved magnificently, because I think he's
+heroic. And if I didn't appreciate the way he spared me I should be....
+Why, don't you realise what it must have been for him, Harry, to hear
+every word we said? And yet he didn't try to make me suffer for it!"
+
+"He complained that _I_ made you cry!" said Harry with a ghost of a
+smile.
+
+"Look here, Harry, it's no good. I see I was right about Romer from the
+first. I married him because I thought there was something
+remarkable--something finer than other people about him. And I was
+right."
+
+"If you talk like that, I shall know you're in love with him," said
+Harry tauntingly and angrily. "_I_ was a fool to tell you. You're just
+upset, my dear," he added, "at the idea of his knowing of the whole
+thing. By to-morrow, when he comes back, everything will have calmed
+down."
+
+"I want to be left alone," said Valentia.
+
+Harry was annoyed, for he himself was not just now in the mood for
+reverie, and even in the smallest things he disliked giving up his own
+wishes.
+
+"Oh, very well," he said ungraciously; "perhaps it's a pity I wrote the
+letter."
+
+"Perhaps it is," she answered as she went away and shut the door.
+
+Harry sat up late, swearing at his own indiscretion and the
+unaccountability of women. But he was not prepared for what followed.
+
+The next morning, as he was dressing, a note was given to him. It said--
+
+     "Dear Harry,
+
+     "After what you told me yesterday, I feel I never wish to see you
+     again. This is not anger; but it's incurable. I can't account for
+     it, but it is there. How you could have been so stupid as to think
+     I could remain with both you and Romer in the house with this
+     knowledge between us, I simply can't understand. How could I help
+     contrasting his generosity with your self-interested selfishness? I
+     am not angry any more about Miss Walmer. I'm quite indifferent. If
+     you married her to-morrow it would give me no pain. The only kind
+     thing you can do for me now, and the one thing I implore, is to go
+     away on any pretext you like and without seeing me again. To put it
+     perfectly plainly, Harry, I have changed entirely since last night.
+     I see everything differently. Everything _is_ different. Forgive
+     me, but I don't wish to see you any more.      "VALENTIA.
+
+     "P.S.--I will send your photographs and other things to the studio.
+     I should like you to burn mine, but do not send them back. I don't
+     want to look at anything that reminds me of you. Do not be angry--I
+     can't help it. I am so unhappy.
+
+                                                            V.
+
+     "If you don't go I know I shall be seriously ill."
+
+After reading this letter Harry was probably about a thousand times more
+in love with Valentia than he had ever been in his life. Indeed, he felt
+that he had never cared for her before. He pretended even to himself to
+laugh at it, and walked up and down his room, saying to himself: "What a
+couple! What a woman! What a man! They're unique. No, they're too
+wonderful!"
+
+But he didn't succeed in deceiving himself. He _knew_ that letter was
+final. He did not give it up at once. He wrote her three letters. The
+first, one of indignant reproach: "_You never really cared for me_," and
+so forth, which she did not answer; the second, witty and trivial, with
+allusions to mountains and molehills and tragedy queens; the third,
+desperately imploring her to see him once before he went away. To the
+third one she sent a reply, simply saying--
+
+"Please, please go as soon as possible."
+
+After all his emotion and passionate correspondence it was by this time
+only about half-past ten. Harry packed, dressed, and went off to the
+station, mad with rage. He left no word for Romer at all. He felt he had
+better leave all that to the wife. He had lost her absolutely and for
+ever--and Miss Walmer too.
+
+In prompt response to his wire Van Buren met him at the station.
+
+And what a wonderful consolation it was to tell him all about it!
+
+Certainly no man ever had a better audience; no one more impressed,
+shocked, delighted, horrified, amused, grieved, pleased and sympathetic
+ever listened to a confidence. For Van Buren it was as good as a _cause
+celebre_, a musical comedy, a _feuilleton_ in the _Daily Mail_ and a
+series of snapshots from the homes of the upper classes--all in one.
+Never in his life had he heard anything so intensely English. The story
+gave him the acute, objective, artistic joy that one takes in the best
+literature, an intellectual pleasure that is usually more or less
+mingled with the merely spiteful satisfaction that we are accused of
+taking in the misfortunes of our best friends. And how well Harry told
+it!
+
+His style was perfect. It was brilliancy, charm, humour, and pathos; he
+laughed at himself, and yet made himself an object of real sympathy,
+without losing either his dignity or his dash.
+
+He knew that his confidence aroused enormous interest, and to him that
+was a great gratification. And so Harry drowned his sorrows in talk, as
+other men drown theirs in wine, or in sport, or in taking some violent
+step. He intoxicated and soothed himself with conversation.
+
+But Harry was not an unpractical man--not one of those for whom words
+take place of actions--and he could face facts. Valentia was irrevocably
+lost to him. To attempt to regain Miss Walmer, although it might perhaps
+not be impossible, would make him ridiculous. The letter he had written
+at Romer's dictation had been too definite. He would give himself away
+hopelessly as a fortune-hunter if he tried to go back on that. Besides,
+he was absolutely sick of it all, and if he was more in love with
+Valentia than he had ever supposed himself to be because she no longer
+wanted him, he disliked the thought of Miss Walmer far more than he ever
+had before, because he was convinced she would forgive him and be
+devoted to him even now.
+
+Van Buren had taken the knock, as he expressed it, using with relish the
+English slang phrase, with regard to Daphne, and he had made up his mind
+to return to New York. Under the circumstances he now had little
+difficulty in persuading Harry to come out with him right away. He
+undertook to provide for his friend's future, and that he should make a
+fortune in the Bank, and perhaps when this was agreed upon Van Buren
+had never been so happy. He was far more genuinely a man's man than was
+Harry. He regarded women from the point of view of the well-bred
+American--with deference, a sort of distant tenderness, a most
+chivalrous and gentle respect. He looked upon them as ornamental and as
+delightful adjuncts to life, like flowers in a ball-room, but not
+seriously as part of it. Nor, either, as mere toys. He placed women far
+more highly than Harry did; he thought everything should be done for
+them, given to them, that they had a right to any position they were
+able to hold, that they should be treated with reverence, consideration,
+liberality ... and even justice; but--he could do without them. Harry
+couldn't. And so they would always continue to fall in love with Harry,
+and to find Van Buren a little dull.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+When Romer arrived at the Green Gate that afternoon he found Valentia
+sitting alone in the drawing-room. Her hands were clasped, she had a
+serious, anxious, thoughtful expression that he had never seen before.
+He was surprised at the painful start it gave him to see her again, but
+he came in defying this sensation.
+
+"Hallo!" he said, in what he meant to be a perfectly easy manner.
+
+He glanced round the room.
+
+"Where's Harry?"
+
+"Harry's gone," said Valentia, in a low voice.
+
+"Oh, has he?"
+
+Romer walked to the window. He looked at her dress, a white dress that
+he liked, but did not meet her eyes. Then he said--
+
+"Oh, he's gone. When is he coming back?"
+
+"Never," she said.
+
+Romer didn't answer, nor ask why.
+
+After a minute he said--
+
+"Where's Daphne?"
+
+"Gone to stay with Mrs. Foster for a week."
+
+"Oh! Who's coming down to-day?"
+
+"Nobody. I thought perhaps you wouldn't mind--being alone, I mean." She
+spoke without her usual fluency.
+
+He stood staring out of the window into the quiet, damp garden. Then he
+turned slowly round and looked at her. He looked at her little feet in
+their little white laced shoes; at the slim, narrow line of the white
+dress; at the hands clasped in her lap....
+
+And he felt a sudden pang of cruel, realistic jealousy. But he looked at
+her eyes and saw tears in them, and, pitying her, he crushed it down for
+ever.
+
+The marvellous instinct with which women are usually credited seems too
+often to desert them on the only occasions when it would be of any real
+use. One would say it was there for trivialities only, since in a crisis
+they are usually dense, fatally doing the wrong thing. It is hardly too
+much to say that most domestic tragedies are caused by the feminine
+intuition of men and the want of it in women. Fortunately, Valentia's
+feeling of remorseful tenderness towards Romer enabled her to read him
+now. Of course she would have loved to cry, to explain at great length,
+to beg him to forgive her and have a reconciliation. But something told
+her that he could not have borne it; that the subject must never be
+touched; that she must spare him any reference to it--any scene.
+
+So she said nothing.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+And, during the curious silence, he gradually and slowly took in the
+soothing facts. He regained his sense of proportion, of perspective. He
+saw she was disillusioned about Harry; he felt that the infatuation was
+over; and, what was more, he realised, to his unutterable relief, that
+she was not going to talk about it. How he dreaded that terrible
+explicitness of women, their passion for tidying up, their love of
+labels! He would not even have to hear it called a sealed subject, and
+he would not have to say anything at all.
+
+       *     *     *     *     *
+
+He looked out of the window again, began to whistle in a slightly
+embarrassed way, and then said casually--
+
+"Let's come out, Val. The lawn wants mowing."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+
+The original spelling and punctuation were retained, except for
+a few issues that were believed to be typographical mistakes.
+
+The full list of corrections is as follows:
+
++------+--------------------+--------------------+-------------------+
+| page | original text      | corrected to       | explanation       |
++------+--------------------+--------------------+-------------------+
+|  15  | old-fashoned       | old-fashioned      | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+|  32  | ,old chap'         | 'old chap'         | comma corrected   |
+|      |                    |                    |   to single quote |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 142  | of colour          | off colour         | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 144  | CAPTER             | CHAPTER            | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 153  | darling.           | darling."          | Double quote      |
+|      |                    |                    | added.            |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 181  | on the 'thou.'"... | on the 'thou.'..." | The position of   |
+|      |                    |                    | ellipsis was      |
+|      |                    |                    | changed.          |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 201  | airdresser's       | hairdresser's      | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 220  | "Ha! musical,      | "Ha! Musical,      | Lowercase         |
+|      |                    |                    | corrected         |
+|      |                    |                    | to uppercase.     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 256  | Dicken's           | Dickens's          | a misspelling     |
+|      |                    |                    |                   |
+| 273  | things to you?'    | things to you?"    | Single quote      |
+|      |                    |                    | corrected to      |
+|      |                    |                    | double quote.     |
++------+--------------------+--------------------+-------------------+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Limit, by Ada Leverson
+
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