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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>THE HONEY-POT</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Honey-Pot" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Countess Barcyǹska" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1916" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="42531" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-04-14" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Honey-Pot" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Honey-Pot" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="honey.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2013-04-14T17:12:44.008204+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42531" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Countess Barcyǹska" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2013-04-14" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a7 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-honey-pot"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE HONEY-POT</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Honey-Pot -<br /> -<br />Author: Countess Barcyǹska -<br /> -<br />Release Date: April 14, 2013 [EBook #42531] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE HONEY-POT</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 76%" id="figure-19"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-20"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="SHE PUT ALEXANDRIA INTO THE MOST COMFORTABLE OF HER CHAIRS AND DREW ANOTHER CLOSE TO IT. PAGE 103." src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">SHE PUT ALEXANDRIA INTO THE MOST COMFORTABLE OF HER CHAIRS AND DREW ANOTHER CLOSE TO IT. PAGE </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#id2">103</a><span class="italics">.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">THE HONEY-POT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY -<br />THE COUNTESS BARCYǸSKA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Author of "The Little Mother Who -<br />Sits at Home."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">NEW YORK -<br />E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY -<br />681 FIFTH AVENUE -<br />1916</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1916 -<br />BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">FIRST IMPRESSION, FEBRUARY 1916 -<br />SECOND IMPRESSION, FEBRUARY 1916</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics small">I am a traveler in the great World-path; my garments -are dirty and my feet are bleeding with thorns. Where -should I achieve flower-beauty, the unsullied loveliness of -a moment's life? The gift that I proudly bring you is -the heart of a woman. Here have all pains and joys -gathered, the hopes and fears and shames of a daughter -of the dust; here love springs up struggling toward -immortal life. Herein lies an imperfection which yet is -noble and grand. If the flower service is finished, my -master, accept this as your servant for the days to come</em><span class="small">.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>—Rabindranath Tagore.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="id1"><span class="x-large">THE HONEY-POT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In her petticoat, barefooted, because the -morning was sultry, Miss Maggy Delamere plied -a well-worn hare's foot to her cheeks with -the sure touch of an artist. Professionally -speaking and adding a final "e" to the term, that -is what she was—chorus-lady by courtesy, -showgirl in the vernacular of the stage. On her small -dressing-table were ranged a number of pots and -bottles, unguents and creams. A battered -make-up box containing remnants and ends of -variously colored grease sticks flanked a looking-glass -of inadequate size and small reflective power. A -beam of sunlight striking across a corner of the -table danced with minute particles of dust from a -powder-puff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The astonishing amount of vigor she put into -the process of facial adornment, the prodigality -with which she used pigments and washes, were -characteristic of her temperament, all generosity -and recklessness. Paint and powder were a habit -with her, not an exigency. No girl of nineteen -could have needed them less. Her complexion, -well-nigh flawless, bloomed beneath the -unnecessary veneer. Not even a cracked mirror could -mitigate her good looks nor detract anything from her -vivacious expression. It reflected a speaking face -even when the lips were still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was taking unusual pains with her appearance -this morning. A card stuck in the edge of -the looking-glass provided the reason.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics">Memo. from A. Stannard, Dramatic Agent.</em><span> -<br />PALL MALL THEATRE. -<br /></span><em class="italics">Voice Trial, June 22nd, 10.45 a. m.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As everybody knows, the Pall Mall is the one -London Theater of all others to which ladies of -the chorus most aspire. In Maggy's case that -aspiration was intensified by real want of an -engagement. She had recently succumbed to an -attack of that childish complaint, measles, and was -more than usually hard-up. Her choice of -garments was as limited as her means, yet twice she -changed her mind about one or another of them -before she was satisfied that she looked her best. -Her efforts to that end finished with the tacking -of several sheets of tissue paper to the inside of -her skirt to give it the rustle of a silk lining. The -rustle—deceptive and effective as stage -thunder—convincingly accomplished, she felt ready to -present herself before any stage-manager in existence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If her mood was serene vanity had no part in -it. Unlike the average chorus-girl she was quite -free from conceit of any kind. She was too -good-looking to be unaware of it, but she did not trade -on her appearance further than professional -principles strictly allowed. She asked no more of it -than that it should bring her in from thirty -shillings to two pounds a week for honest work -behind the footlights. Commercialism with her -ended there. She was all heart, but free from -illusions. Her mother had been on the stage -before her. Always on the stage herself since -childhood, familiarized with its careless, hand-to-mouth -existence, its trials and its exuberances, she had -become worldly-wise at ten and a woman at fifteen. -But the life did not demoralize her. The bad -example of a mother's frailty and intemperance had -been her safeguard. She had never lost her head -or her heart. She did not rate herself very high, -but she rated men lower. Apart from this she -had no hidebound views about life or morality. -Since her mother's unlovely death she had lived -alone and kept her end up somehow. She had -often been penniless, gone hungry and cold; but -so did many of the people among whom she -moved. So long as she was not quite penniless -she never worried. Cigale-like she lived in the -present. If she ever suffered from fits of -depression it was when she realized that she was more -than usually shabby and needy, a condition, -however, which she preferred to put up with rather -than descend to the acquisitive methods of other -girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the rattle of the traffic in the street -below she heard a church clock booming. Incidentally, -she regarded churches less as places of -worship than timepieces of magnitude, convenient -when you do not possess a watch. She counted -the strokes, ten of them, darted to the glass for a -last survey of herself, gave a touch to her hat, -another to her waistbelt, and pattered in her now -stockinged feet to the top of the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoes, please, Mrs. Bell!" she sang out. -"You don't want me to be late, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coming this moment, Miss Delamere!" -shouted an answering voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell lumbered up the stairs with the shoes -in her hand—high-heeled ones of the sort that -only last a fortnight before losing shape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just stopped to give them an extry polish," -she panted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy took them from her and hurriedly put -them on. While she buttoned them her landlady -went on her knees and gave them a final rub up -with her apron. She meant well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have luck to-day," she said, regaining -her feet and surveying her lodger with approval. -"I should look out for the butcher's black cat -on my way, if I was you. Back to dinner, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll have a cut off whatever you've got, if I -am," Maggy answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine's hot Canterbury lamb and onion sauce."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy ran downstairs, slammed the hall door -behind her and walked down the street into the -main thoroughfare, looking for the green motor-bus -that would take her within a stone's throw of -the Pall Mall Theater. In a quarter of an hour -she had reached that imposing edifice. Going -in at the stage door she descended a flight of -stone steps, traversed a long passage, and found -herself upon the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gray daylight filtered down from the skylight -above the flies, just enough for the business of the -moment, no more. Across the unlit footlights -was a gloomy void, pierced by an occasional -gleam from an open door at the back of the pit or -dress-circle, and relieved by the lighter hue of -serried rows of dust-sheets hanging over the seats -and balcony edges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Close to the footlights was a table occupied by -the stage-manager and one of his satellites. In -the corner to their left an upright piano was set -askew with the conductor of the orchestra seated -at it. At the back of the stage, standing about in -groups, some thirty girls and a few men were -waiting to have their voices tried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They chattered noisily. Most of them seemed -to know one another. One or two called out a -greeting to Maggy. Some were volubly discussing -their professional experiences, telling of late -engagements and prospective ones; the run of this -piece, the closing down of that; incidents on tour -and in pantomime; suppers at restaurants and the -demerits of landladies. These topics ran into one -another and overlapped. Others, with giggles, -imparted risky anecdotes in undertones. Most of -them appeared to be taking the situation with the -calmness of habit. Nervousness showed in a few -faces; anxiety in one or two. One pale-faced girl -was in a condition of approaching maternity. In -other surroundings she would have attracted -attention, perhaps called up pathetic surprise that -in the circumstances she should be attempting to -obtain employment. But here very few were -affected by pathos at sight of her, nor was she an -object of much surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After Maggy had exchanged a word or two -with those whom she knew she took very little -notice of the people about her. She stood apart, -humming a tune, and every now and again her -feet broke into a subdued dance step. But this -state of abstraction did not last long. That she -was a creature of impulse showed in an abrupt -change from it to close attention of what was -going on around her. Her fine eyes went alertly -over those present and came to rest on a girl of -about her own age whose quiet manner and dress -of severe black singled her out from the rest. -She was tall and slight, very much in the style of -the women in Shepperson's drawings. Her small -features and graceful figure gave her a -distinguished appearance. She looked what she was, -a lady, and a stranger to her surroundings. She -held a roll of music and glanced nervously about -her until she became aware of Maggy's smiling -regard. It seemed to encourage her. She -returned the smile and advanced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At which end will they begin?" she asked -nervously, making it clear that she was an amateur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere," replied Maggy with friendly -cheerfulness. "You're not a pro.?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought not. I shouldn't let on if I were -you. Managers fight shy of beginners. First -thing they'll ask you at the table is what -experience you've had. Haven't you been on the stage -at all before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I've never appeared in public. I'm new -to it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been looking for a shop—an engagement—long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For five weeks. Ever since I came to London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl in black could not hide the note of -disappointment that came into her voice. Maggy -gave her an encouraging tap on the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five weeks!" she scoffed. "That's nothing. -Lots of us are out for months. You'll -know that if you ever hit real bad luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't wait months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hard up?" Maggy asked with quick understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Same here. Tell me, where are you living? -You're different to the crowd. I like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl in black hesitated and got a little red.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not living anywhere at present," she -confessed. "I was in a boarding-house until to-day. -I had to leave. I shall have to find rooms before -night. Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me -where to look?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had moved away from those nearest -them. Each felt attracted to the other without -knowing why.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did they keep your box?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Why should they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you meant you couldn't pay."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it wasn't that. But I can't go back. A -man came into my room last night—one of the -men staying there. I rang the bell and called -the landlady. I don't understand why, but she -blamed me and was very offensive. I didn't go -to bed again. I sat up, waiting for the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The beast!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cheery look left Maggy's face, giving -place to one of deep resentment. "The man, I -mean," she said, "though I've no doubt the -woman was just as bad. There are houses like -that. Fancy you not knowing it. I should -have ... Here, they're going to begin. Keep -by me. I'll see you through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stage-manager rapped on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence, please! We'll commence now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An immediate hush followed. The groups -broke up, spreading across the stage, facing the -footlights. Such indifference to the occasion as -many of them had hitherto evinced was gone now. -They were there to be engaged. Even the most -self-assured became serious, made so by the -competitive equation. Only twelve girls and three -men were wanted to complete the ranks of the -chorus, and here were nearly forty applicants for -the vacancies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, come on. Who's first? You with -the boa," proceeded the stage-manager. "What's -your song?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl indicated handed her music to the -pianist. He rattled off the prelude without the -waste of a moment. The girl sang a few bars, -and was interrupted by: "That'll do. Next!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing more was said or asked. The girl -took her sheet of music, and effaced herself. -With equal celerity the next dozen were disposed -of. Not more than one out of four was called -to the table for her or his name to be recorded. -All the while the singing was going on the -stage-manager kept up a running fire of remarks at the -expense of the singer. Generally they were -merely sarcastic; some were rude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl in black kept close to Maggy who -looked on unperturbed, now and then jerking out -a subdued comment on the proceedings, partly -to herself, partly for the information of her companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now it's Dickson, poor kid! Look at the -state she's in. Silly of her to come. Powell -won't let her open her mouth.... There you -are! Off she goes. She's crying. The brute! -He needn't have </span><em class="italics">said</em><span> it! ... That's Mortimer. -She'll get taken on.... Knew it at once. -Down goes her name—address 'Makehaste -Mansions!' Don't they get through us quick? -We're not human beings, only voices and figures. -My turn!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She walked confidently down to the table, -ignoring the piano.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's your song?" inquired the stage-manager.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you take my voice on trust, Mr. Powell?" -was her jaunty reply. "It's like a bird's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nightingale, I suppose?" he jeered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, bird of Paradise. Aren't I good enough -to look at?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a momentary hesitation, during which he -appraised her face and figure, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Got a photo of yourself in fleshings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not here. Plenty at my agent's—Stannard's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right. Name, please. Next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl in black was next. Her heart beat -uncomfortably fast as she moved down. Had she -to pitch her voice to fill that gaping void across -the footlights? She shrank from singing to these -blasé-looking men who gave the impression of -damning before they heard. Then she saw that -Maggy was still standing by the table and nodding -encouragingly to her. It gave her heart. She -handed her song to the pianist and commenced to sing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Louder, please," said some one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sang louder and lost her nervousness. It -was not so difficult to fill that huge auditorium, -after all. So far, she was the only one of them -that had been allowed to sing her song half -through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shouldn't mind hearing the rest of that -another day," said the stage-manager, stopping her -at last. "Not half bad, my dear. Name, please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave her name, Alexandra Hersey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you been in?" came the query.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before she could answer Maggy chimed in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was with me on tour in 'The Camera -Girl.' No. 2 Company."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Address?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Maggy came to the rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put her down to mine. 109 Sidey Street. -Then you'll remember us both—p'r'aps!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hooked her arm in Alexandra's and made -for the wings. When they were in the passage -facing the stage-door she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll help you find rooms if you like. I've -nothing to do. I say, you can sing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If it hadn't been for you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, rats!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it was awfully good of you," Alexandra -maintained. "Is there a room in the house where -you live?" she asked, actuated by a strong desire -not to lose sight of her new acquaintance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's room in my room, that's all. I pay -ten shillings a week. My landlady charges -fifteen for two in it. That would be seven-and-six -each. But"—she made a wry face—"you -wouldn't like it. It's slummy. There's a smell -of fried fish and a beastly row half the night. -Still, you can have a look at it if you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was invitation in the tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to come," said Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Right-O. Here's my motor car. The green -one." She held up her hand to a 'bus driver. -"My chauffeur doesn't like stopping, except for -policemen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave Alexandra a push up and sprang on -the footboard after her. They climbed to the -top, and were rattled and jerked in the direction -of the King's Cross Road.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ii"><span class="large">II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One Hundred and Nine Sidey -Street was not an attractive apartment -house, but it was cheap and respectable. -Mrs. Bell, an "old pro" herself, by reason of -having, in some distant past, earned twelve shillings -a week as a "local girl" in pantomime, preferred -the lesser lights of the stage for tenants. She -knew their ways, their freedom from "side," their -unexacting habits. When she could not secure -them she took in "respectable young men." At -the present juncture the young men predominated. -Maggy Delamere was the sole representative of -"the professional" in her house. She occupied -the third-floor front, and owed three weeks' rent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw open the door for Alexandra to -enter. It was the sort of room that many a -domestic servant would have considered inadequate. -The only compensating feature about it on this -hot June day was that it had two windows. Both -stood open, and on the sill of each a pot of -flowers, mignonette in the one, sweet peas in the other, -helped to create an impression of freshness. -This was strengthened by the paucity of its -furniture and the chilly look which an unrelieved -expanse of linoleum invariably gives. A single iron -bedstead occupied one angle. A clean but faded -nightdress case, trimmed with crochet work, lay -on the pillow. This and the flowers in the -windows were the only things that gave evidence of -the room being occupied by a young girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy made a comprehensive gesture with her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The chorus lady at home!" she declaimed -humorously. "Living in the lap of luxury. -There's her voluptuous couch, her Louis the -what's-his-name chest of drawers, her exquisite -bric-à-bric washstand and—My dear, be -careful of the chair! It's a real antique, only three -legs and a swinger! Sit on the bed, it's safer. -Pretty little place, isn't it? We'll have lunch in -a minute or two. Can you eat hot New Zealand -mutton? I told the old woman I'd have a cut off -her joint to-day. I'll just shout down to let her -know there's two of us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After her voice had echoed down the three -flights and been duly answered, she came back and -poured out water for her new friend to wash her -hands in. Common yellow soap was all she could -offer for this purpose. She was only able to -afford the fancy variety and cheap perfumes when -she was in an engagement. She took off her hat -while Alexandra dried her hands and then, as -they sat side by side on the bed, she suddenly -blurted out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What the dickens makes you want to go in -for the stage? Don't tell me if you'd rather not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no reason why I shouldn't," said -Alexandra. "I've longed to ever since I was -quite small."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goodness! And I've wanted to get off it -ever since I can remember. Not that I ever had -the chance. I don't know how to do anything -useful. I suppose you got cracked about the -stage, same as most girls, because you didn't know -anything about it. You belong to a swell family, -I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," was the smiling reply; "only Anglo-Indians."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are they? Half-castes? You're fooling!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"English people who live or have lived in -India. My father was in the army."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, an officer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was impressed. She had once met a -Sergeant-Major, and, superior being as she -thought him, knew that his glory was reflected -from the commissioned ranks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's something to be proud of, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra's people had been in the Army and -Civil Service for generations. It had not -occurred to her to think of them unduly on this -account. She said as much.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," observed Maggy sententiously, "I -should say your father and the rest of your -relations must be either dead or dreaming to let you -go on the stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nearly all my near relations </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> dead. I -have an aunt and uncle—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does he do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a retired colonel. He—they wanted -me to live with them." Alexandra gave the -information with a touch of reluctance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To give a stranger adequate and convincing -reasons why one prefers not to live with -uncongenial relations is not always easy. Alexandra -put it briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have nothing in common," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do you think you have in common -with this life and the people you'll meet in it?" -propounded Maggy. "If I were you I'd go back -and say: 'Nunky old dear, I've changed my -mind. I'll come and live with you and be your -loving niece, amen.' Fancy! a retired -colonel—Anglo-Indian—and you think twice about it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing would induce me to change my -mind," said Alexandra with decision. "There -are three girls, and they find it a tight fit without -me. They're not rich.... When my mother -died I had to do something. Besides, I'm really -ambitious to get on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy snapped her fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, ambition! Do you know what the -ambition of every chorus girl is? It isn't to become -a star-actress. That's clean beyond her. It's to -find a man who'll take her away from a room like -this and treat her decently."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra found it difficult to reconcile such a -statement with one so beaming and joyous-looking -as Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you—you don't think like that?" she rejoined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sometimes I do. I've kept straight so far -because I like being on my own. I hate men, with -their nasty thoughts and their prowling ways. -But I haven't met any that I liked. If I had, -perhaps I shouldn't be here now. If we get taken -on at the Pall Mall it'll be nothing but men, men, -men. We shall get no peace."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You paint everything in such somber colors. -There must be light as well as shade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a lot of limelight, if that's what you -mean; but the shade's all the darker for it. Oh, -I can tell you the stage is a rotten place if you've -got no money or no friends or no chap at the back -of you. I'm not saying that for the sake of -talking. It's good enough for any one like me. But -when I see a blind man crossing the road I always -wish I could make him see, and as I'm not God -Almighty the only thing I can do is to give him a -hand. That's how I feel about you. The -traffic's dangerous enough when you've got eyes in -your head, like I have. It's all traffic on the -stage. I suppose you think you'll be able to look -after yourself? Well, you wait and see. -There'll be Mr. Johnnie at the stage-door asking -you to hop into his landaulette because the road's -slippery or some such nonsense. But what's the -use of trying to convince anybody? I can see -I shan't put you off the stage.... I'll help you -to look for a room, unless—" Maggy's -volubility checked for a moment. "—unless you'd -like to chum with me. I'm just what you see. -Nothing hidden up my sleeve; no drink and no boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw Alexandra wince at her plain language, -and watched her anxiously. Hardly ever before -had she sought the companionship of another girl, -nor could she quite understand the motive that -was making her do so now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her extreme candor certainly had a startling -effect on Alexandra. She had never met any one -so outspoken. But she put the right construction -on Maggy's frankness, recognized it as a -manifestation of genuineness and honesty, and -succumbed to it as she had to the girl's fascinating -vivacity. She was altogether drawn towards her. -Again, Maggy stood to her as the personification -of the new life she had elected to make her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was looking at her expectantly, looking -and smiling. There was something very -compelling in her smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to chum," said Alexandra impulsively.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="iii"><span class="large">III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Maggy spoke of the stage she -generally meant the Pall Mall Theater. -Just now it was in her thoughts more -than any other, perhaps because she had met -Alexandra there, but also because she was inclined to -think that Alexandra and she had made a -favorable impression on its stage-manager.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Pall Mall, De Freyne, its lessee and -manager, and the Pall Mall chorus are a trinity known -the world over. Productions at the Pall Mall -invariably enjoy success. Long runs prevail there. -That was one of the reasons why Maggy looked -forward to an engagement at that theater. -Another was the pay, rather more than was -obtainable elsewhere. In other respects it offered her -no advantages and some drawbacks. She had, -for instance no aspiration to become one of a -chorus whose unrivaled attractions marked it out -as a sort of human </span><em class="italics">delicatessen</em><span> for the -consumption of epicurean males. On the other hand, De -Freyne was indifferent to expense on the question -of costume, and that had had considerable weight -with Maggy. Like any other pretty girl she -reveled in beautiful clothes, even though they should -only be on loan to her for an hour or two out of -the twenty-four. On tour the dresses were often -effective enough at a distance, but either of -inferior material or their pristine freshness -considerably depreciated by having seen previous -service in a London theater. That militated against -the pleasure of wearing them. At the Pall Mall -everything would be new and the best that money -could buy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That De Freyne's object in dressing his chorus -regardless of cost was a licentious one, the desire -to make his two-score of attractive-looking girls -still more attractive in the eyes of the </span><em class="italics">jeunesse -dorée</em><span>, who filled his stalls, was no deterrent to -Maggy on her own account. She did think of it -in regard to Alexandra. She wondered whether -Alexandra would be affected by the demoralizing -influence of those beautiful clothes which at the -Pall Mall were fashioned to display a girl's -physical charms to the very limit of decency. It ended -in her being almost sorry that Alexandra's -innocence and the callousness of an agent should -have sent her to the voice trial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How Alexandra was to make a good impression -on the public by posturing in the chorus was not -explained to her. It was the expression of an -opinion which she could take or leave. In her -innocence she made the common error of -imagining that the public chooses its plays, its novels, -its pictures, its music and its actors and actresses -for itself. She did not stop to think that there -might be gradations in that public or that the vast -majority of it is deprived of selective taste by the -interested parties who cater for it. Generalizing -by the noise the public makes with its hands when -it approves of anything, she argued that -everything it applauds must be good. The noise is -there right enough and the approval is genuine; -but that has to be discounted by the fact that the -public has nothing better to approve of. For the -public—the crowd—is a led horse most of the -time. It is enormously manageable. It does -what it is told and goes where it is taken. Its -taste has never been given a chance of becoming -educated because of the fare that has been forced -upon it. Its purveyors feed it as injuriously as an -ignorant man will a horse. For the want of -anything better the horse will eat what is given it. -So with the public. Obviously the public never -has anything to do with the choice of a play. -Nobody has except the man who buys it and puts it -on the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Following the simile of the led horse and the -proverb that, though you may take it to the water -you cannot make it drink, the public likewise will -once in a way evince the same sort of stubbornness. -Then the play that failed to "go down" is -unostentatiously withdrawn, or the pretender to -histrionic laurels unable to obtain them will try -his or her luck again in another piece with -another's money behind it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all, it is but a question of credulity. -Even Alexandra had to conform to it. She was -advised to apply for a place in the chorus and she -did so. With her necessarily vague ideas about -the chorus she did not think of it as anything very -dreadful. It did not offer so good a footing on -the stage as she desired, that was all. She did -not, for instance, believe all the disparaging things -Maggy said about the stage. She appreciated -that on the stage a girl might be unduly exposed -to temptation, but in her austerity that was no -reason for yielding to it. In her Arcadian purity -she could not conceive of circumstances, however -degrading, having any adverse effect on herself. -Nor could she credit Maggy's insistent assertion -that without money or influence an actress must -remain in the depths. She believed, as -inexperience always does, that talent is bound to be -recognized sooner or later. The creed of the chorus -girl, unspoken, unwritten, was yet hers to learn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For ten days the two girls heard nothing from -the Pall Mall Theater. It was possible, if not -probable, that they might not hear at all. -Meanwhile Maggy went about with Alexandra looking -for an engagement in some other direction. It -was a matter of urgency to both of them to get -something to do. Maggy had been out of an -engagement for two months. She was in -Mrs. Bell's debt, and she owed money to a doctor. -Alexandra was little better off. As the orphaned -daughter of an officer she had a pension of £40 -a year so long as she remained unmarried. But -with the expense she had been put to in coming to -town and in spite of the strictest economy it was -not enough to live on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not help being anxious about the -future; more so than Maggy. Maggy, though -she chafed at them, was accustomed to bad times: -Alexandra had never struck them before. -Hardly had she got over the illusion of imagining -that a small part in a London theater was -obtainable than she found herself in no request even -for the chorus. It was terribly disappointing. -They were forever haunting stage-doors and the -crowded waiting rooms of theatrical agencies. -For hours every day they wandered about the -Strand and its environs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for the prospect of sheer want confronting -them they would have been quite happy. The -bond that united them was based on mutual -respect as well as affection. Disappointment and -privation only cemented it. In these days when -the stale breakfast egg was a comestible to be -shared, when anything better than canned food -became a luxury, their friendship remained free -from any of the pettinesses which generally -characterize the intimacy of people living under -conditions of hardship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stoicism of a family of soldiers supported -Alexandra. She had the pride of race that -refuses to surrender to misfortune. Her grit, -astonishing in one so delicately reared, surprised -Maggy. She began to look up to Alexandra as a -being of a superior world in which the virtues, -being Anglo-Indian, were of a particularly high -order. She had a very nebulous conception of the -meaning of the term.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as Alexandra found it absorbing to listen -to Maggy's stage talk, even though it was -humorously misogynistic, so nothing pleased Maggy so -much as to listen to Alexandra's narration of life -in an Indian military station. It sounded to her -like a history of the high gods: a medley of color, -warmth and ease, good living and brass bands. -She loved to hear of parades and polo, of the -troops of servants, the gymkhanas and dances, all -the social amusements and advantages of the sahib -caste. From habit, Alexandra would use native -words when talking of these things, and Maggy's -unaccustomed brain never quite differentiated -between syce, hazari, maidan, ayah, chit, durzi, -kitmagar, butti, tikka-gari and such-like terms in -common use with Anglo-Indians. But they -impressed her immensely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The amount of talk they got through in these -early days of their friendship was stupendous. -It helped to relieve the harassing search after -employment and its invariable ill-success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One morning, three weeks after their first -meeting, Maggy sprang out of bed to gather up two -letters which their landlady had pushed under the -door. On the flaps were inspiring words in red -lettering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pall Mall Theater! Hooroo! One for -each of us!" she cried, and danced about in her -nightdress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra, behind an improvised screen formed -of a shawl over the towel rail, was having her -morning bath in a zinc tub of inadequate size.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open mine," she called. "I'm wet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She waited anxiously. There came the sound -of tearing paper and then Maggy's voice, raised -excitedly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pull that old shawl down, Lexie! If you -don't practise on me you'll die of shyness and no -clothes at the Pall Mall. We're engaged! -Rehearsal Thursday. Eleven o'clock!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="iv"><span class="large">IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was past one o'clock. For over two hours -without a pause the chorus had been going -through their "business" in the new play with -the reiteration that exasperates the teacher and -the taught. The girls had relapsed into -sulkiness, the stage-manager's temper was ruffled. -Even the pianist in the O.P. corner by the -footlights felt the reaction. His hands rested on the -keys without energy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Powell, the stage-manager, faced the forty girls -standing in a semi-circle, three-deep. The -majority of them were dressed in the ultra-fashionable -style of the moment, some very expensively, -a few with taste. The exceptions were Maggy -and Alexandra. He knew they were all tired -and rebellious; but he was concerned only with -their recalcitrant feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now then, girls. Once more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pianist's hands came down heavily on the -opening chords of a dance movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"La-la-la—da-di-dum—point! Step it out. -Don't mince!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tall girl, gorgeously arrayed, brought the -dance to a stop by leaving her position in the -front row.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not going to stick here all day," she -announced defiantly. "I'm lunching with my boy, -and he won't wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get back to your place, Miss Mortimer," -snapped Powell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not me. I'm going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she began to cross the stage on her way -out a voice came from the depths of the auditorium:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Mortimer, we're not concerned with -your private appointments. If they're to interfere -with your work here you can look for another -engagement somewhere else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The show-girl glanced in the direction of the -voice and shrugged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mean you'll fire me, Mr. De Freyne? Well, -I don't care. Pa's rich!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She walked off jauntily, her high heels clicking -on the boards, a costly plume streaming over her -left ear. The lessee of the Pall Mall Theater -said nothing. He was mildly amused. He -stood in the dark at the back of the dress circle -complacently regarding his theatrical seraglio. -All the girls were pretty, or if not pretty, showy. -Some had been selected for their figures, some for -their faces, some for both. No duchess, not even -a fashionable duchess, was arrayed like one of -these. Solomon in all his glory might perhaps -have competed with them, but not the lilies of the -field. Presently De Freyne's gimlet eyes picked -out Maggy and Alexandra. Their appearance -disturbed his equanimity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched them attentively for ten minutes or -so, at the end of which period the tired -stage-manager dismissed the chorus for the morning. -De Freyne's authoritative voice again made itself -heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Delamere and Miss Hersey. Step up to -my room before you go, please. I want to speak -to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girls exchanged scared glances. A special -interview with De Freyne was sufficiently unusual -to fill them with dismay. He was not in the habit -of detaining members of his chorus for the fun of -the thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They groped their way along dim, soft-carpeted -passages to the front of the house and -entered the managerial office. De Freyne was blunt -to a degree. He wasted no time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You two girls have got to make more of a -show," he told them. "I can't have shabby -dresses at the Pall Mall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra was too taken aback by this curt -rebuke to make any reply; but Maggy lost her -temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meaning flash clothes and jewelry?" she bit -out. "How do you expect us to do it on thirty-five -shillings a week, Mr. De Freyne?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not interested in your resources," was De -Freyne's cold answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to be. You ought to get a pencil -and slate and write down the cost of lodgings, -food, boots, and all the rest of it, and figure out -how little we've got left to buy clothes with—unless -we don't care who buys them for us. -</span><em class="italics">We're</em><span> not that sort—not yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must look smarter," reiterated De -Freyne, showing no resentment at this tirade. -"You silly creatures, don't you want to attract -attention?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll attract attention on the night. Don't -worry," said Maggy. She was afraid of De -Freyne, but she did not let her voice show it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all very well, but you know the -unwritten clause of my agreement with you all. The -ladies of my chorus have got to be dressed -decently off the stage as well as on.... Anyhow, -there it is. Take it or leave it." He dismissed -them with a nod.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither said anything until they had passed -out of the stage-door and were in the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That means new clothes," said Alexandra in -a tone of deep depression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or Dick Whittington!" Maggy rejoined -dryly. "Turn and turn again—our dresses. -I'll have a go at yours to-night, Lexie. Look, -there's Mortimer and her boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A big car slid past them, ridiculously upholstered -in white velvet. An effete-looking youth -and the girl who had stated that her "pa" was -rich lolled in the back seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's eyes followed them speculatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonder if there's anything in it?" she remarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that sort of a good time. Flat, money, -pet dog, car, week-ends at Brighton—enough to eat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to think about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither do I. But I have lately. I'm -wondering what on earth we're standing out for. No -one thinks any the better of us for it. The girls -all think us fools, and the men just grin and wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk about it. Talking makes it all -seem worse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One day I shall do more than talk. I shall -walk off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra said nothing. She knew Maggy's -mood. Maggy was hungry, tired, and cross. -Motives of economy impelled them towards their -lodgings, where half a tin of sardines was waiting -to be consumed. Neither had had anything to -eat since early morning. And when they had -lunched they would have to walk back to the -theater for rehearsal again at three. Maggy -suddenly halted before a Lyons' depot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on in, Lexie," she said. "We can't -wait. We shan't be home till past two. And -if we're late back we'll be fined."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the tin of—" Alexandra began and stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy had pushed open the swing doors. -The grateful smell of hot and well-made coffee -and savory, nourishing food, cheapness -notwithstanding, made her surrender to temptation. -Deprivation has this effect. De Freyne, lunching -expensively at the Savoy, recognizing here and -there approved members of his chorus and their -cavaliers, could not be expected to know anything -of empty stomachs. Besides, it was their own -fault if the girls did not know which side their -bread was buttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down at one of the marble-topped -tables. A waitress came towards them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two cups of coffee, rolls and butter—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was Alexandra's order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coffee, rolls, and two steak-and-kidney puddings," -augmented Maggy recklessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unmoved, the attendant went off to execute the order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy met Alexandra's startled eyes. Her -own were defiant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't tell me," she said. "It'll cost us -nearly eighteenpence. I don't care. </span><em class="italics">I'm</em><span> going -to pay, and if I don't go bust that way I shall do -something worse. We're going to feed, dear!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="v"><span class="large">V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Damn! She's turned off the gas!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy stopped machining. The -small room was plunged in darkness. -Alexandra groped for matches and lit the candles. -It was not easy to work by the flickering light, but -both girls went on with what they were doing. -There was something grim about the task. One -associates the alteration of frills and furbelows -with some small pleasure to the adapter; but there -was none here. Necessity impelled them, kept -them out of their beds. They were heavy with -sleep. The air of the room was close and unpleasant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy had all but finished turning Alexandra's -coat and skirt. Alexandra had adapted two -Indian shawls into an effective dress for Maggy. -The work was too hastily done to bear inspection -at close quarters or much strain by its wearer. -They had been steadily at it for five hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Maggy who gave in first. She finished -machining with a savage jerk, leaving the handle -to revolve by itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's go to bed," she said. "I'll get up half -an hour earlier and finish that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra went on. She was not going to be -beaten for the sake of half an hour. Besides, -she knew that Maggy in the cashmere shawl -arrangement would please De Freyne. She, at any -rate, would pass muster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not so very tired now," she answered -without looking up, "and I may be in the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy shook her hair down and slipped out -of her clothes with the celerity that comes of -practise between the acts. She did not even -trouble to take the paint off her face. She got -into bed and lay watching Alexandra working by -the guttering candle-light. She did not talk. -She was too utterly tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Alexandra's work was done. She hung -up the dress and put away the needles and cotton. -She had a strong inclination to get into bed -without more ado than Maggy had shown; but habit -was not to be denied. She knew she would not -be able to rest properly unless she was clean and -cool. She brushed her hair, washed her face and -hands, brushed her teeth. A huge sigh from -Maggy's bed made her turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I keeping you awake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I sighed because you're so different to -me. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> couldn't wash to-night. And I knew my -hair'd be a mat in the morning and the pillow pink -from my cheeks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you didn't paint. There's no harm -in girls doing it if they need it, but you spoil yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Force of habit. Mother made up my face -from the time I was ten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra in her nightdress knelt down at the -side of her bed. Maggy never said prayers. To -see Alexandra say them, she said, was the nearest -she would ever get to such things. She had never -been taught to pray when a child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Might as well drop Him a hint that we're at -the end of our tether," she suggested presently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Alexandra rose from her knees Maggy -was sitting up in bed watching her, her hands -clasping her legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you mean to say that you believe -somebody hears you!" she said wonderingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And does what you ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—in the end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then He must be pretty deaf.... You look -nice saying your prayers. If I were God I -couldn't refuse you anything. P'raps He's a -woman-hater. Women get the worst of it -everywhere, I think. If we do wrong, we have to -pay for it. If we don't do wrong, we have to -pay just the same. We're made so that we're not -fit to be working all the time. Oh, it's a hell of -a world for women! I can stand anything when -I feel it's fair and just. I can't see any justice -where we're concerned. They have an inspector -Johnnie to see that the scales in the grocery-shops -are fair, but if a woman wants to make a bargain -she's got to do it on the heavy side."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The law courts are the scales."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The law? Aren't the scales against us there -too? If we want a divorce we've got to be -knocked about as well as—other things. If -we're deserted and ruined before we're married -we can get so many shillings a week until the kid's -in his teens. And if there's no kid or it dies, well, -p'raps your God'll help us, but the law won't. -It's all too hard to fight against, and one can't -make head or tail of it. Look at the White Slave -Traffic. They'll flog a man if they catch him at -it, but they won't flog De Freyne and give him -hard labor for the dirty work he's doing every -day of his life, though everybody knows about it. -Why, he's only a—what's it called?—procurer -for the nobility and gentry and all the rich -bounders. And we're not all in yet, but we shall -be. My word, one hears a lot about the -chorus-girl being on the make-haste and living -you-know-how. One doesn't hear how she's driven into it, -like cattle into a dirty pen. I'm done, Lexie. I -shan't hold out long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra blew out the remaining candle. In -the darkness one could just make out the two -narrow beds and the glimmer of the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't give in, Maggy," came Alexandra's -voice after a pause. "When one meets the -man one cares about one doesn't want to come to -him with nothing to give."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? There isn't a man in a hundred -who comes to a woman with a clean slate. Why -should they expect us to have nothing written on -ours?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because when a man marries nature makes -him want a pure woman, not for his own sake but -because of the children she will probably have. -For myself, I know I would rather show a clean -slate to the man I loved and who loved me in a -decent way whatever his life had been, than let a -man who was nothing to me write his name there -first. That must be wrong because it's against -nature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it? I don't know. You can argue better -than I can. You don't lose your temper. Let's -bring it down to ourselves and our difficulties. -The stage is a honey-pot and we girls are the -honey in it, and the men are the flies buzzing -round. They won't leave us alone. They make -it almost impossible for us to live a decent life. -And if it's decent it isn't beautiful. You can't -call it beautiful, Lexie. This room's the limit. -Think of the food we eat. Generally beastly. -And our clothes. Everything's ugly and -makeshift, and yet we've only got to stretch out our -little fingers—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More than our little fingers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you like. Anyway, what are we -waiting for? There's no sense in it. It won't -get us any forrader. Why don't you leave me -alone? I'd almost made up my mind to give in -when I met you. I should rather enjoy cutting -a dash and having everything I want and going -one better than the other girls who crow over us, -and snapping my fingers at the management like -Mortimer did to-day. If a man was going to -marry me and give me a nice broad ring and a -little home there'd be some reason for going on -like this and keeping good; but men don't ask -chorus-girls to marry them, as a rule—not by a -long chalk! Oh, goodnight!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She twisted on to her side, and the bedsprings -groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From neighboring churches clocks began striking -twelve. The noises from the street subsided. -Only an occasional footfall was heard or a cart -rumbling past. Sometimes a shrill voice broke -the stillness, sometimes a drunken song.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girls slept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At dawn a cool breeze moved the dingy window -curtain. Maggy woke and peered through the -gray light at Alexandra, sleeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked as though she were dead and at peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy wondered if that was the better fate.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vi"><span class="large">VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>De Freyne did not seem to notice the -efforts of the two girls in obeying his -instructions to smarten up their appearance: -he said nothing. But for all that, the -change did not escape him. Maggy, in the draped -cashmere affair struck him as likely to appeal to a -Jew or a gentleman from Manchester. He had -a particular individual of each type in his mind, -and awaited a propitious moment for exploiting -her to one or the other. For the next few days -the attention of the girls would have to be -devoted to rehearsals, not men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne's exploitation of his chorus -naturally had it roots in commercialism and -self-interest. The girls themselves very seldom -thanked him for his introductions. They were -astute enough to understand that the advantage was -at least mutual. Not that De Freyne expected -any thanks. It was a trite observation of his that -theatrical people were the most ungrateful lot in -the world. He himself was a shining illustration -of the dictum, but that did not lessen its truth. -He got his "turn" from his wealthy stage-door -dilettanti. It might be a social one in the shape -of admittance to elevated circles; a select club, a -shooting party, a cruise on a big yacht. -Sometimes it was an invitation by a young and -indiscreet member of the peerage to his country house -and a photograph in the illustrated papers to -proclaim it. De Freyne was very partial to reading -beneath the group: "From left to right: The -Marquis of Perth, Lady Angela Coniston, Sir -Francis Manningtree, Mr. De Freyne...." This -was prestige dear to his heart. He toed -the line successfully between Society and -Bohemianism. Most of the rich rascals and all the -rich fools of the world were at his service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But what gave him most satisfaction was to be -able to put an important City man under an -obligation. It often resulted in special information -concerning stocks and shares that brought him -large profits. He would have sacrificed any girl's -reputation for a one-fourth per cent. turn of the -market, and frequently did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this regard he mentally pigeon-holed Maggy. -It would not be difficult to find her a partner in the -dance to which he should set the Mephistophelean -measure. Alexandra he looked at with a cold -eye. He wasn't sure of her. He had nothing -to say against her looks, but he had no use for -prudish high-steppers. Quick of apprehension -where girls were concerned, he put her down in -that category. The chorus would bear thinning -out a bit. As a matter of policy, De Freyne -always engaged more girls than he wanted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For another week rehearsals went on, growing -more frequent and longer. The clever -stage-manager goes nearer creating silk purses out of -sows' ears than any human being. No one in the -early days of rehearsal would associate the -pouting, obtuse, wooden young woman with the airy -fairy sylphs who ravish the eye on a first night; -yet they are one and the same, trained by methods -similar to those used in schooling performing -animals, by coaxing, bullying and inexhaustible patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the chorus were at last up to concert -pitch and the principals letter-perfect, the dress -rehearsal took place. Maggy was in the front -row, looking big and beautiful in a Futurist -creation of rose fleshings and black chiffon. The -front row girls were very carefully chosen for -opulence of figure. Alexandra had been -relegated to the back. She was disappointing in -tights, which means nothing more than that if a -butcher did not approve her an artist might.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was over at last, the long performance with -its glitter, glare and gaiety. There was nothing -in it, but all London would flock to see it because -the music was catchy and the girls so pretty and -the whole show so symbolical of the light side of -life. For several days afterwards rehearsals -were frequent. The usual "cuts" and alterations -had to be made, the show licked into shape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On one of these occasions Maggy received a -message from De Freyne. He wanted to see her. -Leaving Alexandra in the dressing room she went -up to the managerial office. It was nearly one -o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you took my advice," he said in a -friendly tone. "You've been turning yourself -out much better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks," Maggy answered. "Is that all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I'm going to put you in the way of -dressing really well. A very decent chap wants to -know you. You'll be lucky if he likes you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's your opinion. Well, he can like me as -much as he likes. But I'm straight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne chewed the end of his mustache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You get these silly notions from the girl you -live with," he said impatiently. "I'll mix -advice with a bit of prophecy. If you don't try and -make yourselves more agreeable you'll find you're in—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer Street?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's equivalent—Garrick Street and Maiden -Lane—out of a shop. It doesn't hurt you to -be nice to a fellow, does it? He may ask you to -lunch. Duchesses lunch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not a duchess, and I'm particular who I -lunch with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of her sentence the door opened and -a man looked in. He had heard her, and was amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's look as she turned to acknowledge De -Freyne's introduction was inimical. She knew -perfectly well what that introduction portended. -She must be hard. She had repulsed other men. -She could take care of herself. But this -man—what was his name—Woolf?—loomed tall and -big over her, big as Fate, possessive. He -exercised a spell: he appealed to her. She knew it in -the first moment that she looked at him. She -knew she would like to lunch with him, and -that she would inwardly be disappointed if she -had the strength of mind to refuse. When the -invitation came she accepted it with cheeky reservation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Mr. Woolf, so long as you don't -think I'm Little Red Riding-hood and included in -the menu."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The capitulation satisfied her conscience. Then -she remembered Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must go and tell my friend not to wait for -me," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Hersey?" supplied De Freyne. "You -might also ask her to come in here in ten minutes, -will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My car's outside," said Woolf. "You'll -find me at the stage-door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy ran along to the dressing room where -she had left Alexandra. The other girls had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie, I'm going out to lunch," she began -breathlessly. "I wish you were coming too. Do -you mind? I shan't be long. I'll cut home as -quickly as I can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not hide her excitement. It showed -in an added sparkle of the eyes, a catch in the -voice. Alexandra wondered what else besides an -invitation to lunch could have created this effect. -It caused her vague uneasiness. But prospective -enjoyment was so clearly written all over Maggy's -face that she refrained from expressing it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I don't mind," she said. "I hope -you will enjoy yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a dear!" Maggy felt awkward. -"You—you don't think it's wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing wrong in going to lunch with -anybody. Especially if he's—all right, and -knows you are, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's nice, I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad. But be careful, Maggy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy moved to one of the mirrors and took -up a powder-puff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got heaps on already," deprecated -Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I?" She powdered over the rouge. -"I do look rather like puff pastry—in layers, -don't I? Well, I haven't time to take any of it -off. Lexie, De Freyne wants to see you in a -minute or two. I don't think it's anything important. -He seems in a good temper. Ta-ta, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ran out and made for the stage-door where -Woolf was waiting for her. His car, a big open -one, was drawn up opposite it. Maggy wished -the girls had not all gone. They had twitted her -so often about her lack of a male escort. Now -there was no one to see her get in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are we going?" she asked. "The Savoy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not this time," said Woolf. "My house is -not far off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd prefer the Savoy," she persisted, although -she had never actually been to that restaurant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf was the sort of man who invariably gets -his own way with women. In addition to being -characteristically obstinate he was indifferent to -any opinion that clashed with his own. If it was -one that suited him so much the better; if not, he -ignored it. So long as he paid the piper he -considered he had the right to call the tune. But -before paying he scanned the bill carefully. He was -not a gentleman. He met gentlemen sometimes, -and was adaptive enough to be mistaken for one. -He belonged to one or two nearly-good clubs. -He was a man about town in the sense that he was -to be seen wherever money could purchase an entrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll be quite chaperoned at my place," he -assured Maggy. "I've a man and his wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't need a man and his wife to look after -me," she retorted sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave her an attentive stare. "Who does -look after you?" His meaning was obvious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Myself, of course. Why don't we go to the Savoy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How persistent you are. Do you want to -know why, really? Promise you won't be offended?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am I'll hop out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well ... when you let me buy you some -pretty clothes I'll take you there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He half expected she might "hop out," especially -as the car had come to a standstill in a traffic -block. She looked hot-tempered. But Maggy -was too level-headed to be sensitive on the score of -clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that king in the story wouldn't have -been seen with his beggar maid at the Savoy until -he'd dressed her out," she remarked ironically. -"Well, you won't go there with me any time, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because this young woman provides her own -wardrobe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf liked her spirit, otherwise her independence -might have irritated him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arrived at his house he gave her in charge of -his man's wife. Maggy disliked the woman on -sight. There was something furtive about her. -She gave the impression of being one who was -used to waiting on ladies in a single man's house. -Sly and secret amusement lurked in her eyes. She -lingered, unostentatiously, while Maggy prinked -herself in front of the glass. After a minute or -two she turned, and intimated that she was ready.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wouldn't you like to take off your hat, miss?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something unpleasantly insinuating -in the smooth tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thanks," said Maggy shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've left your purse on the table, miss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I? There's nothing in it. It'll be -quite safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman led the way downstairs and ushered -her into a room half-library, half-drawing-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Find everything you wanted?" inquired -Woolf, coming forward to meet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, thanks. What a swanky bed-room! -Silver hair-brushes and face powder and hairpins! -Is it yours?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's the visitors' room. I'm glad you like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say I liked it. It looked as if you -always had it ready for a lady. I don't like the -look of your man's wife either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf laughed at the downright expression of opinion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's all right," he said significantly. "She's -as quiet as the grave and much deeper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's no good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who </span><em class="italics">is</em><span>! Are you?" He took her hand -and tried to draw her to him. Maggy's form -grew rigid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hands off," she said coolly. "There's nothing -doing here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you let me kiss you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the same reason that I keep my hat on, -and you don't. One's out of respect for me and -the other's respect for myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a funny girl!" Woolf drew back and -looked at her. "Why are you on the defensive?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't I need to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not with me, surely. I want to be friends -with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friends!" She threw up her chin aggressively. -"I've only got one in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And who is he?" Woolf asked with quick curiosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's a girl. I chum with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Women can't be friends with each other," he -asserted didactically. "Especially when they're -of the same profession. A Hottentot woman and -her civilized sister have only one occupation—the -study and pursuit of man. You're like doctors, -all at each other's throats. Some of you -practise homeopathy, the others are allopaths. -The first marry and take their husbands in small -doses, the allopaths believe in quantity. Your -friend would probably leave you to-morrow if she -got a good enough chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Talk about some one you know," Maggy responded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The contentious conversation was interrupted -by the entrance of Woolf's man announcing lunch. -They went into the dining room. Maggy was -hungry and did justice to an excellent meal. But -she refused to drink anything stronger than lemon -squash, and when Woolf pressed her for her -reason for such abstinence she gave him none. She -had seen her mother suffer from alcoholic excess. -The smell of spirits always turned her sick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were alone Woolf leant towards her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now let's talk," he said. "What do you -want me to do for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," replied Maggy shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you dislike me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him and away again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. That doesn't mean you're fascinating. -You're the sort of man who might get round a girl -like me if I was fool enough to listen to you. -Lexie—that's my chum—would tell you off at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think she's a man-hater." Woolf -was beginning to feel a distinct antipathy towards -Maggy's friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she isn't. Only men aren't much in our -line. You can see prowling beasts without going -to the Zoo."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's conversational trick of generalizing -led away from the point Woolf wanted to press.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You doubt me," he said. "You'd believe in -me if I wanted to marry you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, cut it! You don't!" she interjected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marriage is an institution for the protection -of women who wear flannel petticoats. It doesn't -follow that a girl can't trust a man because he -offers her a lot more than most wives get."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He offers her a lot more because he knows it -won't last for long. I'm practical."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you were practical you'd listen to my offer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll listen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'd like to make you really comfortable. -You ought to have a smart little place of your -own, and dainty things, and money to spend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's as old as the hills. I daresay I'm not the -only girl you've made that proposition to. Try -somebody else. I'm going now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean you won't think about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was silent for a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I shall think about it right enough, don't -you worry," she said in an odd voice. "I shall -think about it when I'm hungry. I shall think -about it when I'm tired. It's a long way from -the theater to King's Cross Road. I shall -think about it when I see the other girls sneering -at me because I haven't got a boy. I shall think -about it in the summer time when people go to the -sea and take off their clothes, and I shall think of -it in the winter when I'd like a few more on. You -needn't think I don't know that you're tempting -me." Her voice nearly broke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then be friends," urged Woolf again. -"What's to prevent you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie. Lexie would be cut up. Lexie has -made me think more of myself since I've known -her than I ever did before. If it wasn't for her -do you think I'd traipse home night after night -to that slummy little room that's dear at fifteen -shillings a week? </span><em class="italics">She's</em><span> not used to the life, and -if she can hold out against it I ought to be able -to who've never known anything better. Well, -thanks for a nice lunch. You've fed the hungry. -That's one good mark for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf led her back into the other room and -shut the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll kiss me before you go," he said imperiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had her by the wrists. His strong grasp -sent a thrill through her. Though she resisted -she wished there were no harm in letting him kiss -her, wished that his offer were not based on -wrong-doing. It was not only because he could give her -material things that she was tempted. She had -stumbled across a man who made a direct call to -her nature, and she knew it. De Freyne, callously -unselective, could not have deliberately chosen an -individual more likely to encompass Maggy's -surrender. Woolf was not young: nearly forty. -But he was so blatantly good-looking, so—so -swaggering. Maggy knew he was selfish and -probably a little unkind, possibly bad-tempered, -that he would never care for a woman in the way -that women crave to be cared for, tenderly, -protectively. All the same, she knew that she would -get too fond of him if she saw him often and that -he would go to her head....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even now she felt dizzy. Her habitual -self-confidence deserted her. She experienced an -overmastering desire to fling herself into his arms and -cry and cry, to tell him how difficult everything -was, and how she had tried.... But she knew -perfectly well that he would not understand. He -was a man who would never understand women's -feelings because he did not think them worth -understanding. As long as there were women in the -world, plenty of pretty ones, their feelings did not -matter. Flowers did not feel when one picked -them, or if they did, well, that was what they -were there for: to be picked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't want to kiss me against my will, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy struggled free. As a matter of fact -Woolf's grasp had relaxed. He was quite ready -for the interview to end. He had a business -appointment at three and did not want to be late for -it. If Maggy had offered him her soul at three -that afternoon, or what interested him far more, -her substance, he would not have foregone his -appointment. That was the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, good-by," he said, without further -persuasion. "You can go home in my car. I'll -'phone to the garage now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy went to get her purse and gloves. -When she returned Woolf was no longer in the -room. It was five minutes to three.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The car is at the door, miss," the man told -her. "Mr. Woolf had an appointment to keep. -He asked me to say would you ring him up any -time you wished to speak to him. This is his -telephone number, miss." He handed her a card.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He helped her into the car and tucked the linen -rug round her with just that touch of familiarity -which the good servant avoids. Maggy knew -perfectly well what he and his wife thought about -her. Unused as she was to servants, good or bad, -she was quick enough to appreciate that they took -their tone from their employer and his habits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leant back in the car and gave herself up to -the luxury of being driven in it. The celerity with -which she was whirled from the affluence of -Piccadilly and Regent Street to the grimy purlieus of -the King's Cross Road had a disheartening effect -upon her. When the chauffeur stopped at her -door she was sure she saw disparagement in his -face. He would return to his own place and tell -Woolf's man and his wife to what sort of a -lodging-house he had taken her, and they would make -impertinent jokes at her expense. She despised -herself for caring what the man thought or said. -Alexandra wouldn't have cared a button. She -would have scorned the man for scorning her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went upstairs slowly. The period of -reaction had arrived. It depressed her. The -lunch was over; the pleasant excitation Woolf's -company had aroused had died down. She felt "flat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her surprise Alexandra was not in. She put -the kettle on the gas-ring and took out their -tea-cups from the cupboard where they were kept. -She was rather glad she had got in before her -friend. It would show how she cared about her, -to have hurried home and made tea.... Good -old Lexie!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sound of steps outside she called out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurry up, Lexie. Tea!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Mrs. Bell, not Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've brought the bill," she observed, depositing -a half sheet of paper on the table. "I'd be -glad to have it squared soon. You're still one-ten -behind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We haven't got it yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll pay me soon? I shall have to let the -room if you don't. Letting's all I have to depend -on, you know. By the way, I ought to have told -you, it'll be seventeen and six a week now instead -of fifteen. The rents of these houses have gone up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Since I drove here in a car," snapped Maggy. -"We'll pay you and clear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, don't do that, dearie. Can't you just -give me a bit on account?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy opened her purse and held it upside -down. She had given threepence to Woolf's -woman, and the remaining threepence to the -chauffeur. They had despised the coppers, naturally, -and barely thanked her. They would not have -thanked her at all but for the possibility that they -might see her again under more affluent circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something'll happen soon," said the woman, -thinking of the car. "I'll treat you kind because -I've a kind 'eart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood away from the door to let Alexandra, -who had come up, pass into the room. Maggy -looked up quickly. Something was wrong. She -saw it at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I'll let it stand over," went on Mrs. Bell. -"The bill," she explained to Alexandra. "It -seems as it's not convenient for you to pay it yet. -It's disappointing, but I suppose—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much is it?" asked Alexandra in a dispirited voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two pounds—five altogether with last week's bill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Maggy's amazement Alexandra handed her -the amount.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Write the receipt and go, please," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were alone Maggy stood still -waiting for an explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you get it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To add to her astonishment Alexandra began -to cry brokenly. She had never seen her give way -before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie, darling, what is it?" Her voice was -sharp with alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra stopped crying as suddenly as she -had begun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fortnight's salary in lieu of notice," she -said. "I think I've been walking ever since. -The pavements were hot, and—my head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy said nothing more. With a world of -sympathy in her touch she unpinned Alexandra's -hat. Alexandra sat with her hands in her lap -staring in front of her. Maggy knelt on the floor -and gently drew off her friend's shoes, brought -slippers and put them on, after which she poured -out a cup of tea and silently put it before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was dire news. Lexie would tell her more -by and by. Maggy knew she couldn't talk now. -She couldn't have said a word herself without -breaking down. Tea would relieve the tension.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came an irresolute knock at the door, -and their landlady thrust in an arm and a plate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shrimps was passing so I've bought you a pint -for a relish, dears," came a conciliatory whine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To save argument Maggy took them and shut -the door again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"W-what a mixture!" she gasped hysterically. -"Temptation and tea, t-tears and—shrimps!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="vii"><span class="large">VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra began to tell about her -sudden dismissal. De Freyne had been in a -good temper and apparently had no grievance -against her. Every one in the chorus knew -there was always the chance of not being kept on -for the run of the piece. He was the managerial -autocrat of stageland and he did what he liked. -A fortnight's notice or a fortnight's salary in lieu -of notice discharged his obligations so far as his -chorus was concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quite formally and with much the same -stereotyped form of regret as an editor employs in -rejecting a suitable contribution, he told Alexandra -that he did not feel himself justified in retaining -her services.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you—dissatisfied with me?" she faltered, -utterly taken aback.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not exactly. You're a hard worker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I simply find I don't need you. I'm sorry, -but there it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it—because I didn't get a new dress when -you spoke to us? I couldn't afford to," she said -simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne fidgeted with some papers on his desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's all finished and done with," he -answered without looking at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I'd like to know where I've failed, please, -Mr. De Freyne. It's very important that I -should know. I shall have to find another engagement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne gave her a searching look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may get on all right elsewhere," he said. -"I'll tell you the truth for once in a way. You're -not the right type. Don't you see you're not the -sort of material I've got to provide? Hang it all, -it's my living. Do you think I surround myself -with the belles of Houndsditch and the Lord -knows where because I like it? The only kind -of girl I've any use for is the one who, besides -working in business hours, makes a show in -smart places the rest of her time. Miss Mortimer -was a good instance of what I mean until she -got swelled head. You're a lady and you won't -do. Forget you are one and you can stop on or -come back again. I mean that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew what he meant, and since she had no -intention of modeling herself on Miss Mortimer -she also did not attempt to argue the matter. De -Freyne, for some unaccountable reason, tried to -justify himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daresay you think me a sort of understudy -to Apollyon, but if you'll look at things impartially -I'm not as bad as all that. The girls I engage -come to me knowing I can find them the best -market. I give them far better chances than they -can get anywhere else. You and your friend -are—accidents. You have either got to clear -or—conform. In the case of your friend, don't you -think it's rather a shame to persuade her to buck -up against things? She's not like you. It's not -doing her a good turn. I've given her a chance -to-day...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He let the words sink in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra left the theater, dismissed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her luck looked desperately bad. It was -unlikely that she would get another engagement -until the autumn, if then. It was a long time to -wait. True, she might go and stay with her -nearest relatives, the Anglo-Indian Colonel, his wife -and daughters, but they lived in Devonshire. -Once in Devonshire it was morally certain that she -would have to remain there, dependent on people -with whom she had nothing in common. Her -purse would not allow her to make frequent -journeys to London to find work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not want to give up the stage without -a struggle. It would be horribly humiliating to -own herself beaten. She believed in her dramatic -ability. She was not afraid of roughing it, but she -had not seen the rocks ahead. When she turned -over in her mind other ways of earning a living -difficulties presented themselves. She could not -do office work: she knew nothing of shorthand or -typewriting. She might apply for the post of -children's governess or companion, but would she be -acceptable for either? There would be questions -as to her previous experience. All she would be -able to cite would be a fortnight's stage-work in -the chorus, hardly the right qualification for a -guardian of youth or companionship to a lady! -She could picture the instinctive drawing-back of a -prospective employer and the murmured "I'm -afraid you won't do...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, she would have to go on as she had begun -or drop by the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She walked the sun-blistered pavements, hardly -noticing where she was going, trying to think what -to do, where to go. The same old heart-rending -round would begin again—Denton's, Blackmoore's, -Hart's, the lesser known agencies, and -"nothing for you to-day. Look in again, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How she was going to live she simply did not -know. A fortnight's salary! ... She could not -guess how many hundreds of men and women of -the same profession as herself were facing the -same problem without even the fortnight's salary -between them and destitution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was Maggy. Unless Maggy -"conformed," she would be told to go too. De -Freyne's words stuck in her mind: "Isn't it rather -a shame to persuade her to buck up against things? -It's not doing her a good turn." "Things," of -course, was a euphemism for Fate. She had -never meant to impose her own moral views on -Maggy. She didn't want to spoil her material -prospects. Maggy had shown again and again -that it was only on her, Alexandra's, account that -she had elected to make a stand. There was ever -a hint of irresolution behind her apparent -firmness. Alexandra was fairly sure that if Maggy -found a man who would gain her affection and -treat her well she would be ready to be convinced -that there was no harm in an unlegalized union. -That she had not succumbed in the past was no -argument that she would remain unassailable in the -future. Alexandra was perhaps standing in her -light. In one sense she was protecting her, in -the other she was taking the bread out of her -mouth. She did not feel herself privileged to -coerce the younger girl when she could not help -her or even help herself. Maggy was not fiercely -virginal. Once she had taken the initial step she -would lose her sensitiveness. Nature would -demand that she take it sooner or later. She -was frail, because at heart she was so simple, so -unhesitatingly unafraid to go where her instincts -led her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra made up her mind that she would -not try to influence her. It was not fair. But -she hoped she would not yield to temptation. -Something in the thought of Maggy surrendering -twisted her heartstrings. It made her feel so -dreadfully sorry. It was as though she dimly -foresaw that if Maggy snatched at the sham thing -Joy, she would see it turn to sorrow, to dust and -ashes....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found herself before the door of their -lodging. She had walked there mechanically with -dragging steps. De Freyne had said that he had -given Maggy a chance that afternoon. Alexandra -recalled her happy, flushed face, the look of -excitation in her eyes. Maggy had evidently liked -the man, whoever he was. It was only three -o'clock. She did not expect her back yet. She -was probably still enjoying herself tremendously. -Alexandra wondered how much Maggy cared for -her after all, how soon before she would leave her -to fight it out alone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And she found Maggy in before her. Maggy -had made tea, she had taken off Alexandra's hat -and knelt down and drawn off her shoes....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra put down her cup and stretched out -her hand across the table. Maggy took it and -gave it a squeeze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a bit of poetry I learnt once," she -said. "I say it whenever I feel the limit. It's a -sort of psalm.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"All's well with the world, my friend,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And there isn't an ache that lasts;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>All troubles will have an end,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And the rain and the bitter blasts.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>There is sleep when the evil is done,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>There's substance beneath the foam;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And the bully old yellow sun will shine</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Till the cows come home!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Can't you see 'em in your mind's eye, Lexie -dear, a string of them—brown ones with soft -eyes—their heads moving from side to side, -coming down the long lane just round the turning ... -and the sun shining behind them through clouds.... -Cheer up, ducky!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="viii"><span class="large">VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Maggy said very little about Woolf. On -certain topics there was a barrier of -silence between the two girls, imposed by -Alexandra. Maggy was disposed to be utterly -unreserved, crude. Brought up in stage -surroundings she had heard undiscussable things -talked of openly all her life. Alexandra showed -such distaste for laxity of speech that Maggy now -refrained from touching on the subject of sex -almost entirely. Had she been unreserved about -Woolf, his conversation with her and her own -attitude toward him, she would have had to show -herself in a light that Alexandra would have -disliked and certainly not understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was never quite sure in her mind whether -Alexandra was very cold by nature or completely -reserved. She, herself, belonged to the type of -woman, not a rare one, who can discuss her -marital relations with others with a frankness -that no man would ever dream of employing when -speaking of his wife to his most intimate friend. -Alexandra, except under extraordinary stress, -would be as secretive as a man. To discuss -sexual emotions or indulge in speculation about them -with another girl was a thing quite foreign to her. -At school she had, in that sense, been a being apart, -while the other girls whispered in corners. -Instinctively she shrank from having her mind -contaminated by second-hand knowledge of the most -vital and delicate functions of nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her upbringing had been different from -Maggy's. Maggy's mind had been forced -prematurely on the hot-bed of theatrical laxity. -Alexandra's life, up till the last year, had been -one of calm and sweet companionship with an -adored mother. She had lived a healthy, normal -existence, met men of her own class who would -no more have dreamt of thinking irreverently of -her than of their own mothers or sisters. She -was aware that strong passions, illicit unions, and -trouble and misery resulting from immorality, did -exist in the world. She read of these things in -newspapers and the books that were never kept -from her; but these passions and unions and -dissolving of unions seemed things that did not touch -her class.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came into active collision with them for the -first time when she went on the stage. She could -not shut her eyes to the condition of things there -any more than she could shut her ears to the sordid -language of the girls in their common dressing -room. But it made her ashamed to be a woman, -a being of the same sex. These girls thought -of men only in one way. The men whom they -spoke of as their "boys" or their "friends" -were certainly not any coarser in mind than the -girls themselves. They had no more reserves of -speech than factory-hands. There were exceptions -here and there, but being exceptions they -were negligible as a power of reform.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some girls attained their positions legitimately, -she knew; but how few? One could count them -on the fingers of one hand. Every one of them -had had some one, a mother or a father to look -after them, a father who waited at the stage-door -every night, a comfortable home. They had been -dressed well by their people. Though in the -chorus, they had never known its strain and stress, -for they had not been of it. Its hardships and -temptations had, so to speak, been screened from -them, and they had been curiously impervious to -its language. Hence it was that their reputations -had not suffered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even out of musical comedy how few illustrious -names were unassociated with scandal. Alexandra -had heard the true story of how one of -England's most prominent actresses was selected -for her first important part—that of a courtesan. -An actress sufficiently convincing in the role could -not be found, till at last the author of the play -exclaimed in exasperation: "Well, if we can't -get the actress, let's have the woman." The -equivalent had been lauded by the Press and the -public, and the author's fees had not appreciably -diminished!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra knew now that her own chance of -succeeding through hard work or any talent she -might possess was about one in a thousand. She -learnt of the many capable actors and -actresses—some of them more than capable—who were -touring the provinces year after year, and would -wear out their souls and their lives touring the -provinces. It was more than a hard struggle -for the women: women were scarcely given a -fighting chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet all she could do was to fight, fight all the -time so as not to drop out; to make a bare living, -not to lose sight of ambition's pinnacle while she -was forced to dwell in the plains of penury. But -as regards Maggy she would not influence her -one way or the other. Maggy would have to -decide for herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the ensuing week they were less together -than they had ever been. In the morning Maggy -was at the theater while Alexandra went the round -of the stage-doors to see if there was a chance -of her being taken on. Very often they did not -meet till after the show in the evening. For the -first two nights Alexandra had gone to meet -Maggy and had walked back with her; but now -Maggy came home in Woolf's car. She said -nothing about him. Alexandra asked no questions.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ix"><span class="large">IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I've got something to show you," Woolf -said. "Hop in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy got into the car. She had been -lunching with Woolf at his house. He always -sent her to Sidey Street in his car, but never went -there with her. He hated slums and mean streets. -He had been born and bred in them and had had -enough of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coming too?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I'm going to take you to see something -I've just fixed up. I want to know what you -think of it. It's a flat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He got in beside her and set the car going. -Maggy had been holding him at arm's length all -the afternoon. He was getting a little tired of -the pursuit and intended it should end. He could -not associate Maggy with protracted virtue. If -she persisted in this pose—for he thought it -was a pose—he would lose interest in her. He -had told her as much at lunch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, rubbish!" Maggy had responded, -munching at a pear that only a rich man could -afford to buy out of season. "Courting's a -change for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's too much trouble. In business I work -hard. I know what I want and I go on till I get -it. With women I don't want hard work. Besides, -unripe fruit is sour. It's best when it's ready -to fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you've come under the wrong tree," she -said cheekily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she knew that the fruit was trembling on -its stem—ripe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About this flat," she said, when they were on -their way, "are you thinking of moving?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf turned and looked at her intently. She -could not face the searching in his eyes; she blushed -and was angry with herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see what you want my opinion for, -anyway," she said, to cover her confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's funny, but I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said no more. Maggy's thoughts occupied -her for the rest of the drive. She sat back in her -seat, out of contact with Woolf. When he was -close to her, or his clothing touched her, a breathless -sensation assailed her, sapping her strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The flat he took her to see was a furnished one -in Bloomsbury, small but attractive in her eyes. -It contained a bedroom, a bathroom and a sitting -room. Meals were obtainable at a reasonable -price in a restaurant attached to the building. -The rooms had every appearance of being lived -in. There were flowers in sitting room and -bedroom, magazines, a box of chocolates: on the -bedroom dressing-table was a brand-new silver -toilette set and brushes. Among the pictures on -the walls, framed in black and gold, were several -studies of female figures in the nude. The -electric lights were rose-shaded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was entranced with the place. She -forgot her defensive attitude and showed frank -pleasure in all she saw. She fingered the silver brushes -lovingly, smelt the flowers, munched a chocolate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The white-tiled bathroom with its plated fittings -appealed to her strongly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hot and cold!" she murmured. "Not in -bits but all at once. Scrummy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you talking about?" said Woolf, amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In Sidey Street we have a foot-bath and wash -in bits," she explained frankly. "I've dreamt of -baths like this. I've never had one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned on the taps with the fascination of -a child, and watched the water run.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you like it all?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should just think I did!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She perched on the edge of the bath, swinging a foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've really taken it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For three years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's coming to it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's for a good girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean for a bad girl," she pouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She'll be good—to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I hope she'll like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her two hands. "So do I, Maggy. -She's said so, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meaning me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've taken it on the chance that I'll come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's got to be completely furnished. If it -wasn't you it would probably be some one I didn't -care about half so much. But it's going to be -you, isn't it, Maggy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For three years!" Her voice trembled. -"And after? What happens when the agreement's -run out? Has the girl got to be like the -flat—taken on by some one else? There was a -play, wasn't there, a few years ago, called 'Love -and What Then?' It didn't last long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got up and went back into the sitting room. -Woolf followed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you trust me and come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I came I should come without trusting you. -I'm not the kind that tiles herself in. I suppose -I should let things rip."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's yours for the taking. Only you've -got to decide—now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And suddenly Maggy's defenses broke down. -She felt the frail bulwarks of her unsheltered -girlhood crumbling around her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wouldn't be for the bathroom or the -bedroom or what you'd give me," she said huskily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wouldn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His arms were about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she whispered. "It's you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Woolf gave her a little Yale key.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here it is. Let yourself in when you want -to take possession."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had tea sent up from the restaurant and -they had it together in the cosy sitting room. -Maggy was very subdued. She would go back to -Sidey Street only to pack the few personal -possessions she treasured. She hoped, was almost -sure, Alexandra would be out. She dared not -face her just yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll bring you back after the show to-night," -Woolf reminded her when they parted. "Don't -forget I've given you the key."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've given you more than a key," said Maggy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="x"><span class="large">X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Lexie, I feel a beast, but I've got to go. -You'll never understand. That's why -I've said so little about him. Woolf, I -mean. It isn't only what he can give me, though -it does mean something too. I'm wrong somewhere, -I suppose. I don't think about it like you -do. And it's all right for girls like me. -Perhaps it's the only thing. You'll never want to see -me again. That's the one part that doesn't bear -thinking about. I don't suppose you'll believe -I care a hang for you now, but I do, even though -it's too late to go on living with you if I wanted -to. The other thing was stronger, that's all. I -had a little Persian cat once. I used to let her out -for exercise on a string because I was afraid of -losing her. But she got out when I wasn't -looking all the same and disappeared for three days. -She couldn't help it, poor dear. It was just her -nature. I expect I'm like that cat. I was bound -to go on the tiles. You'll think that vulgar. I -am vulgar all through. That's the difference between us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been the best chum in the world, dear. -I can't thank you properly. I'm a rotter. I've -left my cash on the dressing-table. I don't want -it. Fred Woolf will be looking after me. Take -it, do please. What's the use of starving when -you needn't. Good-by, Lexie. You may not -believe it, but I'm crying and I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> care.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"MAGGY."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xi"><span class="large">XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Bell came into the room with the -supper tray. It was mostly tray. The -supper consisted of two cups of cocoa, -half a loaf of bread and an atom of butter. She -gave her lodger an inquisitive glance as she spread -the tablecloth. Alexandra had Maggy's letter -in her hand, and her face was woefully sad.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not lay for two," she said quietly. -"Miss Delamere won't be here in future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bald statement was sufficient for Mrs. Bell. -Ever since the day when Maggy had been brought -to her door in a private car she had more or less -been prepared for this dénouement. The association -of chorus-girls and cars in her experience had -but one meaning: a rise for the former in the plane -of life with a concomitant and much-to-be-desired -acceleration of the pace at which it may be lived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad she's found a friend," she observed -cheerfully. "She's the sort that's made for a man -to look at. Have you seen her chap yet, Miss -Hersey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to talk about Miss Delamere's -affairs," winced Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're upset, I can see. I'm not denying it's -hard to see a friend carried off like that." Mrs. Bell -Bell shook her head deprecatingly. "It's a -trying place, the stage. I wouldn't go back to it -myself, not if I was paid like a Pavlova. I'd rather -toil and moil for Mr. Bell downstairs all the days -of my life." And having thus asserted her claim -to respectability, conjugal endurance and a taste -for sour grapes, with admirable conciseness she -felt she was privileged to ask another question: -"Have you got a shop yet, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's the wrong time of year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't wait till the autumn?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what'll you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not thinking of myself just now. It -doesn't matter," said Alexandra wearily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know. You're bothering your poor head -about Miss Delamere. Don't you fret. She's -got some one to look after her. That's better -than looking after yourself. I daresay she's -sleeping in a creep de sheeny nightdress to-night -with real lace on her pillows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk like that!" Alexandra shuddered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's no good trying to walk clean on a -muddy road. Drink your cocoa while it's hot, -dearie. If you're on the stage you must go on -like the angels in heaven, doing what Rome does, -where there's very little marriage or giving in -marriage." Mrs. Bell's metaphor was mixed, but her -views were definite. "That's why I would rather -see my own girl lying here at my feet dead and -smiling in her coffin than in the profession. She's -a respectable upper housemaid," she finished -comfortably, as she closed the door behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra tried to eat a little dry bread. The -butter was rancid. She ended by giving up the -attempt. Her throat ached. She leant her head -on the table. It ached as much as her heart and -throat did. Her whole body was permeated with -the pain of unshed tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Except for the letter, which was final enough, it -was difficult to realize. She had not even taken -her box, only a small handbag. Her possessions -had been so pitifully meager. Her wooden-backed -brush and a metal comb were still on the -dressing-table, but the cheap German silver -powder box and her rouge and cream pots were gone; -there was the nightdress case on her bed in the -crochet work that was Maggy's hobby with the big -badly-worked M in washed-out greens and pinks. -Wrapped in a little screw of paper was the money -she had left behind. She had taken Alexandra's -photograph, and for some reason she had turned -the face of her own to the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wild desire came to Alexandra to run out, late -as it was, go to Maggy and bring her back. Then -she remembered that she did not even know where -Maggy was. She was gone and that was all; -swallowed up in the immensity of London; -captured by some man unknown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The realization that Maggy had deliberately -stolen away at the call of exigency hurt her acutely. -Passion had never touched Alexandra. Just now -she could only feel impatience with one who was -moved by it to extremes. But mingled with the -distaste for a thing she could not comprehend was -compassion for her friend. Some part of Maggy -must be suffering, sorry. No woman surrenders -herself without some secret, sacred regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat thinking, trying not to think, for hours. -Finally, she undressed and, in the darkness, said -her prayers. She felt they were futile, -childish.... She turned her face to the wall so that -she should not see the ghostly outline of Maggy's -narrow, empty bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the hours passed and sleep did not come she -began to wonder if it were not all a dream. The -idea took hold of her. Of course, Maggy had not -gone....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat up and spoke her name across the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although there was no answer, the tantalizing -obsession was still upon her. She got out of bed -and crossed over to Maggy's, feeling above the -coverlet for the comforting touch of the warm, -sleepy body. The coverlet was flat, the sheets -cool. Maggy had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She groped her way back to her own bed, and -at last tears came, and with tears, sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the morning, the sharp edge of her feelings -was somewhat blunted. She was still sorry, but -not passionately sorry. Those who have wept for -their dead with the poignancy of first grief -experience much the same dulling of the emotions. It -precedes the inevitable resignation, without which -they could not again take up the lonely burden of -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was lost to her, as lost to her as if she -had died. She had not the consolation of knowing -that she would see her again, alive, exuberantly -happy, unregretting, and that this feeling would -pass. She did not know then that across the -barrier of her frailty Maggy would hold out her -strong, young, eager hands, and that she, -Alexandra, would grasp them in unalterable love and -friendship.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put away the money Maggy had wanted her -to take until she could give it back to her, and -directly she had had her breakfast, started for the -theatrical agents' offices. They opened at ten. -She had small hope of obtaining anything at any -of them. The principals did not know her by -sight. When one of them made an occasional -dart into the waiting room and gave a quick -glance round she was only "one of a crowd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At such times there would be a little stir and -scrimmage amongst the men and women in which -she would not share. Men would elbow women, -women elbow men in their efforts to catch the -agent's eye or better still his sleeve. And he -would shake them off in a precipitate passage from -his own room to that of his partner's at the other -end of the waiting room. Alexandra knew his -short, little, staccato, stock sentences by heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing for you to-day, dear." (Shake her off.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry, my dear, I can't stop." (Shake her off.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my dear, I—oh, it's you. Stop behind. -I'll see you later." (Pressure of the hand.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing in your line to-day, old fellow." -(Shake him off.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps a fleeting look at Alexandra, so that -she was in doubt as to whether she had been -noticed or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the crowd would wait on, lessened by the -few who lost heart and went on to other agencies. -The assembly varied little in any of these refuges -of the out-of-works. There you would find every -specimen of stageland: the sprightly young man -with an eye stimulated hopefully by sherry from -the adjacent Bodega, dressed in the last -fashionable suit left from his wardrobe, his waistcoat -pocket bulging with pawntickets; the old actor -with a blue chin, a red nose and a kindly smile, -unctuously imparting the latest "wheeze" to a -brother comedy-merchant; the hard-eyed woman -of forty, rouged, smelling of spirits and patchouli, -consumed with inward wrath because of the -refusal of managers to entertain her applications -for youthful parts; the fresh-looking girl with an -air of country lanes and a pigtail, who -nevertheless was bred and born at Stratford-at-Bow; the -seedy advance-agent, vainly trying to adopt a -managerial air; the plump and cheery chorister -with no ambitions beyond thirty shillings a week -and a long pantomime run; her male compeer -nourishing a secret belief that he could "wipe the -floor" with every tenor on the boards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eleven, twelve, one o'clock, and still the patient -crowd would linger on in the agents' offices, -chattering intermittently, giggling occasionally, -desperately anxious all the same, eyes ever glancing -toward the two shut doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At one would come the unwelcome news, spoken -by the young man who kept the accounts and -made out the contracts:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Whitehead's gone to lunch. Won't be -back to-day. No use waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How quickly the room emptied! Alexandra -did not know that a goodly proportion of its -habitués would quickly foregather for -consultation and refreshment in Rule's or the Bodega, -where the atmosphere was redolent of alcoholic -odors, curiously aromatic, sonorous with sustained -conversation and the low chuckle of the comedians.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One saw the same faces again after the luncheon -hour, at Denton's, at Hart's, at Paul Stannard's, -a little less hopeful, a little more tired as the day -went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Paul Stannard had got Alexandra her -engagement at De Freyne's. She went to him again -now. She liked him. He was a gentleman by -birth, had drifted on to the stage, loathed it, could -not get free of it, and ended by running a -theatrical agency with fair success. He did not call -all girls "dear," only the ones that liked it, and -was more accessible to the rank and file than most -agents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I had fixed you up with De Freyne," -he said. "His show's in for a long run. -Couldn't stick it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. De Freyne told me to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra was tired. She could hardly stand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down," invited Stannard. "Up against it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I've nothing to do. It's serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry." He turned over the leaves of -a big book on his desk. "And I can't help you. -Nothing's doing, except a sextette for Rio."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't I go?" she asked eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed -her compassionately. Belonging as he did to the -class that shelters its women it still hurt him to -see women engaged in fighting for bread. It was -more desperate still when they fought for honor -too, or held it above the price of bread.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you send me to the Pall Mall if you -knew they wouldn't want—any one straight-laced?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't ask every girl who comes to me for -a job to sign an affidavit concerning her morals. -Why are you on the stage at all if you've got -different ideas to the others? You haven't an -earthly. Might as well buy a toothbrush."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Buy a toothbrush?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To sweep out an Augean stable." He -scribbled some addresses on a half sheet of paper. -"There's just a chance these aren't filled up. -Mention my name. I don't hold out any hope, -though." He hesitated for a minute. "Are you -bound to go on at this? Haven't you a home to go to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm bound to go on," she said, trying to keep -the desperate note out of her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, good luck." Stannard held open the -door for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor devil!" he said as he shut it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xii"><span class="large">XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All the names which Stannard had given -her were those of minor managers. It -was late in the season and their companies -would in all probability be made up and booked -for the road. Still she went to them. There was -a bare chance that one of them might have a -vacancy. For two hours she hung about their -offices waiting for an interview, only to waste her -time in the end. "Full up" was the answer she -got to each application. The last place she called -at was situated in a block of buildings off -Shaftesbury Avenue. As she left it a door facing her -on the opposite side of the passage opened and a -man in a frock coat and silk hat came out. He -stopped short, looked her up and down and spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Excuse me, but are you out of an engagement?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she replied, a last glimmer of hope -flickering within her, the silk hat suggesting -something managerial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger's next words confirmed her in -this idea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you're the very person I've been -looking for for a week. The question is, can you -sing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then come in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He threw the door open again and followed -her in. The room contained two chairs, a desk, -a small grand piano, one or two playbills on -the walls and several diagrams of the larynx, -looking not unlike a map of the tube railways.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is my practise room and therefore bare," -he explained. "It's bad to sing in a room blocked -up with furniture. Breaks up the voice, you know. -By the way, my name's Norburton—Gerald -Norburton. You may have heard of it," he added -modestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra had heard of it. The name was -that of a singer of some repute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then, you're not an agent," she said, a -little disappointed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord, no." The idea seemed to amuse him. -"Fact of the matter is this: my friend, Maurice -Haines, wrote to me the other day—here's his -letter—asking me to find him a likely girl for -a sketch he has booked at the Palace. He'd -engaged some one, but she's just gone in for -appendicitis. Funny thing, appendicitis. Has it ever -occurred to you—" The blank look in Alexandra's -face constrained him to keep to business. -"So he appeals to me, thinking that as a singer -I might know some one likely. But I didn't—not -until I saw you. If you can sing it's a sure -thing." He read from the letter he had been -searching for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'She must be tall and dark and a lady. Youth -essential. Of course she must have a well-trained -voice, but previous experience doesn't matter. -I'll look in next week, and if you know a girl who -will do, for heaven's sake have her round. The -sketch is booked for the next six months, first here -and then in the leading provincial towns. I'll pay -ten pounds a week for the right woman.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me it depends on my voice," said -Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it. Do you mind singing me something? -Here's a pile of songs. Pick out one -you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She found a song. Norburton played the -accompaniment. She had an idea she was singing -well and hoped he would think so. When she -finished, she had the impression that he was not -satisfied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid you're disappointed," she said, with -foreboding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not exactly. You've a nice voice. You -want to know how to pitch it better. As it is it -won't carry. I believe I could teach you in five -days, before Haines comes round."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't expect you to do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> teach," he laughed. "Do you doubt -my capability? I assure you that besides being -a public singer I get three guineas for every -half-hour lesson I give."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I meant was," said Alexandra, "that -I couldn't expect you to coach me for nothing, and -I couldn't pay enough to make it worth your -while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He appeared to think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to do my best for Haines," he said. -"Look here. I'll give you five lessons—one -every day for ten minutes—and you can pay me -what you can afford, five shillings a lesson, say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She colored. "That's charity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I really want to help Haines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Alexandra had little more than five -shillings in her purse. The next quarterly payment -of her annuity would not be due for a fortnight. -In the meantime all she possessed was some old -jewelry that had belonged to her mother. There -was the money Maggy had left behind her, but -she was not going to touch that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like you to teach me. It's very good -of you," she said. "Would you take this instead -of money? It's worth a little more than five -five-shilling lessons." She tendered him a ring with -a single pearl in an antique setting. A pawnbroker -would have lent her five pounds on it. She -was anxious that he should take the ring. It -would make her feel less under an obligation to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Apparently he appreciated her feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's very pretty of you," he said. "It -fits my little finger, too. Would you rather I took -it?" There was a shade of reluctance in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much rather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thank you very much. Now I must pull -you through by a little teaching. Can you have -your first lesson now? No time like the present, -is there? Stand in the corner over there to the -right. Now, sing 'ah' on middle C. Keep your -tongue well down. Give it room—give it room! -Swell it out! You'll do very well," he said, after -ten minutes. "To-morrow, same time. I'll drop -Haines a line. Don't thank me, please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another girl came in as Alexandra went out. -She heard Norburton tell her she was early.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you heard from Mr. ——" She -thought the name mentioned was Haines, but -argued she must have been mistaken. The girl -was fair and short, not at all the type Norburton's -friend wanted. Alexandra assumed she must be -one of the singer's private pupils, and thought no -more about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the next four days she came for her lessons, -and at the end of that time Norburton told -her he was quite satisfied with the result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haines will be here to-morrow at eleven," -he told her. "Don't worry, you'll get the engagement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the same she did worry. She pinned her -hopes on it. She had curtailed her food down -to the irreductible minimum. Privation showed -in her looks. She was not a big eater, but her -physique demanded good and nourishing food, -which now she never got. She wanted new shoes -and gloves badly. These she could not manage -to do without indefinitely. She began to lose -confidence in herself in these days. She knew her -appearance was noticeably shabby, and that she -was getting the delicate look that employers -dislike. One cannot say to the man from whom one -is hoping for an engagement: "I'm pale, but I'll -look better when I can afford to feed myself -properly. My clothes are shabby, but they would be -in rags if I hadn't looked after them as if they -were priceless brocades. And I'm not poor and -hungry and out of an engagement because I've no -talent, but because I've certain principles that I've -brought to the wrong place. Give me a chance and -don't ask anything else of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At five minutes to eleven the next day she was -in Shaftesbury Avenue. Outside Mr. Norburton's -door some ten or twelve girls were waiting. -They looked a mixed lot, all of them anxious, poor -and shabby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told me ten," said one of them, "and he's -not here yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been here since half-past nine," said another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One bold spirit rapped sharply on the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a result one next to it bearing a brass plate and -a solicitor's name was opened and a man put his -head out and angrily demanded:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's making that row? If you're waiting -to see the fellow who had that room, he's gone. -Went away yesterday afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meaning Mr. Norburton?" asked one of the girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what his name was. He's -gone, anyhow. It's no good waiting about and -making a noise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shut the door. The girls stared at one -another blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to know the meaning of this," said -one of them truculently. "P'raps the caretaker -can tell us." She clattered down the stone stairs, -and half a dozen of the others followed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fair girl standing next to Alexandra spoke to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you want to see Mr. Norburton too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but I'm afraid I shan't." Alexandra -felt faint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think we shall either. It's my belief -we've been done. Did he give you lessons?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had five, too," nodded the girl. "Two -pounds I paid the blighter. He said I'd suit -Mr. Haines a treat. Read me a letter saying he -wanted a fair girl with a good figure and contralto -voice— What's that? It was a 'tall and dark' -to you! My hat! What did </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> pay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I gave him a pearl ring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O-oh!" Her eyes went round. "I saw -it on his finger. Then you were hard up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had the ring, but not the money to pay him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I had the money. And I haven't got it now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the girls who had gone to make enquiries -below came up again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thought I'd come and tell you," she -panted. "It's true. He's gone, right enough. -The piano was hired and it's been fetched away. -He's done seventeen of us, the beast! His name -isn't Norburton at all, but Easton or Weston, I -forget which. If the real Mr. Norburton or -Maurice Haines heard what he'd been up to they'd -prosecute him. He's just been using their names -to cod us. Oh, I'd like to—to—" The -unspoken threat tailed off in a resigned sigh. "Well, -there's a voice-trial at Daly's at 11.30. I'm off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra did not move. She was dazed. -The other girls melted away, all but one little -creature in black who commenced to sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't cry," said Alexandra, touched by her -grief. "You must try and forget the disappointment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl raised streaming eyes. She was very -plain and wore her hair frizzed out all round her -head. The fingers through which her tears had -been trickling were red and work-worn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I paid him f-four pounds in gold," she wept. -"And he s-said my voice was g-good enough to -get me the engagement. And I've given notice at -the place I'm at on the strength of it, and now -I'll have to go back and ask to be kept on. Makes -me ashamed of myself, it does, after what I said -to the mistress about gettin' ten pounds a week -on the stage. And now f-four pounds of good -money gone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't you any left?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got eleven saved, but it would have been -fifteen," sniffed the girl. She took it hardly that -she had to pay so heavily for her experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then, cheer up," said Alexandra. "I -haven't got fifteen shillings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the world?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you're a lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I?" asked poor Alexandra. Tears were -not far from her own eyes now. The girl saw -them, and the fount of her own dried up in her -compassion for a disappointment that must be even -greater than her own because of the actual need -behind it. A lady, and with less than fifteen -shillings in the world! Why, she had always been -able to earn nearly ten shillings a week, without -counting her board and keep. She had always -been able to count on regular employment, plenty -of food and a fairly comfortable bed; and until -she had been dazzled by the magnificent prospect -of ten pounds a week and still more by the idea -of becoming a "star actress," she had been fairly -contented with her life. She wished she had never -seen that catch advertisement in the newspaper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't think any more about the stage -if I were you," advised Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shan't," was the resolute answer. "It's -no good, is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit of good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind telling me," she said, "if it's -very bad. The girls on it, I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's difficult sometimes for them to be good," -was Alexandra's qualified reply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's pretty much what our milkman says. -He had a wife he divorced that used to go on the -stage once a year in pantomime."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra smiled wanly. She was getting -accustomed to the democratic atmosphere of the -stage, where social differences are inexistent. The -dragging in of the milkman's wife was only a -sharp-cut illustration of the lengths to which the -leveling-down process could go. The life had -robbed her of all surprise at the necessity of -having to rub shoulders with ex-shopgirls and the -like; but this was the first time she had found -herself on terms of equality with a domestic servant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dessay I'm well out of it," said the girl -philosophically. "I hope you'll get on, miss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she passed Alexandra she stopped, making -believe to pick up something that was not there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, look what you've dropped!" she -exclaimed, holding out two half-crowns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra had come out that morning with only -a few pence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't mine," she disclaimed. "If you look -in your purse you'll probably find it's your own -money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl made a pretense of doing so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, that it isn't," she insisted. "It must be -yours, right enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it can't be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before she could anticipate the movement, the -girl slipped past her and raced down the stairs. -Alexandra followed as fast as she could. But -the girl was too quick for her. She was nowhere -to be seen when Alexandra reached the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only then did she comprehend the meaning of -the generous subterfuge. She stood staring down -at the money in her hand—two half-crowns, -given her by a servant!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xiii"><span class="large">XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>July, that theatrical close season, was -wearing itself out. Alexandra subsisted on the -small quarterly dividend that a grateful -country bestows in the way of pension on the orphaned -children of the men who fight its battles. She -sweltered in her one room or else sat in the -deserted ones of theatrical agencies waiting for an -engagement that never came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One sultry afternoon, on turning into Sidey -Street, she found, standing opposite her door, a -brand-new landaulette. In her prosperous days -she had learnt to distinguish between the makes -of cars, and a glance showed her that this one -belonged to a type that was just then being widely -advertised at a popular price. But it was neither -its shape nor finish, nor even the bright coloring -of its paintwork that attracted her attention so -much as the large monogram composed of an -M. and a D. in the center of its door-panel. The -world might contain a thousand other people with -those initials, but M. D. on an empty car outside -Alexandra's door meant that Maggy was inside -the house, waiting for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her heart beat fast and she went in. There -would be a visible difference in Maggy. Their -girlish friendship was a closed chapter. Maggy had -left her. The hurt still rankled. She felt -nervous. It would be like greeting a stranger; worse, -it would be meeting as a stranger one with whom -she had shared a close intimacy. There would -be awkwardness....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy, waiting for her, felt equally nervous. -She had struggled against the desire to see -Alexandra again, but it had grown too strong for her. -She yearned for her. She wanted to tell her that -she had not deserted her, that she could still be -as true a friend as ever. Suppose Alexandra were -so intolerant of what she had done that she would -not even let her stay a minute! Perhaps she -would refuse to speak, or worse still, and this was -more likely, she might pretend hard that her -feelings had not changed so that she, Maggy, might -not feel hurt, and Maggy would know she was -pretending. She began to wish she had not come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Looking round the little room it seemed difficult -to believe that she had really left it. Only -the expensive frock she was wearing, a peep -through the curtains at the new toy that she liked -to drive about in, assured her that she had. Then -she noticed that her bed was gone. That was -even more conclusive evidence of the domestic -rupture than the expensive frock and the car. And -yet Alexandra had her photograph on the mantel-piece. -That cheered her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During one of her periodical peeps at the -window she saw Alexandra walking down the street. -A panicy feeling assailed her. She peeped again -and noticed how slowly she was coming along, how -listless was her step. She looked tired, frail. -Maggy's warm heart gave a compassionate thump. -Her nervousness increased as she heard Alexandra -mounting the stairs. What should she say to -start with? "I was passing, and I thought I'd -look in?" That would sound casual, forced. -Or "I hope you don't mind my coming to see -you." That would be groveling. Should she -wait for Alexandra to speak first? Suppose she -should say something cold and cutting, final? -Suppose she just stood still, waiting for Maggy -to speak? And how long might they not stand -looking at each other like that, without saying a -word....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra opened the door and Maggy faced -round, her breast rising and falling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unrehearsed words bubbled from her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lexie, I'm just the same. Won't you be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy, dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Choking with emotion and gladness, they found -they were holding hands tightly, as if they could -never let go. Big tears welled up in Maggy's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It doesn't alter one a bit," she got out huskily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on the bed, close together, for -a moment or two dumb with congestion of -thought—the numberless things, essentials affecting -themselves, that needed asking and answering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you happy, Maggy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't I look it?" She irradiated happiness. -Her eyes beamed, her lips laughed. "I love him, -Lexie. It's lovely to love a man whatever way -love comes to you. He can't give me the brown -egg at breakfast because he's not there then, but -I feel just as—oh, you know! I'm not really -</span><em class="italics">bad</em><span>, Lexie. There isn't another man in the world -for me. Tell me about yourself, darling. Have -you got anything to do yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I'm beginning to wonder whether I ever -shall. I can't see anything ahead. It's black."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your stomach's empty," said Maggy prosaically. -"You look as if you've lived on nothing -for ten days."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've lived on four-and-sixpence a week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lexie! And I've had caviare and plovers' -eggs and all sorts of expensive things while -you've been starving!" She looked horribly -contrite. "Do you know that picture advertisement -with a big fat cat talking to a thin miserable one -and saying it had been fed on somebody's milk? -I'm the fat cat because I'm being kept by—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't!" said Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry. I forgot. Fred encourages me -to be downright. Don't take the pins out of your -hat. Look here, Lexie. Do me a favor and -come out with me sometimes. Come now! -When Fred's not around I'm at a loose end, and -it's lonely. I get tired of mooching round the -shops and only buying things for myself. The -day would go faster if I could lie in bed half the -morning, but I'm so beastly energetic. I'm awake -at seven and thinking of eggs and bacon. I would -like to show you my flat. Would you mind -coming to see it? There's no one there, only me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw Alexandra hesitate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's such a duck of a flat," she went on. "I -haven't got any one to show it to. Dozens of -times I've said to myself: if only Lexie could see -this or that.... You needn't approve of me, -but do come! We can have an early dinner -before I go to the theater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what about—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred's never there at that time. We generally -lunch out and then I don't see him till after -the show."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On Maggy's left hand Alexandra noticed the -gleam of a wedding ring. Maggy, following her -glance, smiled contentedly. For the moment it -occurred to Alexandra that perhaps Maggy was -really married after all. She asked the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," was the regretful reply. "But I often -forget I'm not. There's not much difference -when you're fond of a man. You get to love him -so much that you don't feel the law could bring -you any closer. All the same I'd like to be -married to him really. I'd like to look after his -clothes, and keep his things tidy—and have his -children." She flushed and got up rather -hurriedly. "Ready? Come along!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the narrow hall they encountered Mrs. Bell. -She had been lying in wait, and now advanced -with her be-ringed and not over-clean hand outstretched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Always pleased to see you, Miss Delamere," -she beamed. "I'm sure Miss Hersey's been quite -lost without you. No chance of your coming back -to us, I suppose?" She smiled knowingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never know," said Maggy lightly. -"Here's something to—buy shrimps with," she -supplemented, winking at Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell gave an astonished and delighted -look at the coin before her fingers closed on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you are a dear! I always did say you -had a heart of gold—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not when my purse had only coppers in it," -Maggy laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you give her? She looked quite -surprised," Alexandra inquired directly the street -door had shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A sovereign."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Swank, my dear. Get in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The car moved off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you like it?" she asked. "It's a -Primus. Fred's got an interest in them. I wish -he'd make me an agent. He's had my photo -taken in one for an ad. They've got electric -starting and lighting and only cost two-seventy-five. -Lean back, dear. Isn't it comfy? Oh, I -wonder what you'll think of my flat. You'll like -the bathroom, I know. Hot water service at any -time of the day or night. That's in the prospectus."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I have a bath?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. Whenever you like. I thought -you'd ask."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not contain her pride in her new home. -Alexandra, unable to help contrasting it with her -own poor room, liked its light daintiness, its -exquisite tidiness. Maggy would have delighted in -doing the whole work of a cottage of her own in -the country. She was by nature domesticated. -The personal touch was everywhere visible about -the flat, especially to Alexandra who knew her. -Maggy had a mania for crochet work. It was to -be seen in all directions. Towels, mats, chair -covers, everything that could have crochet sewn on -to it was so ornamented. A large open workbox, -crammed to overflowing with a medley of fancy-work, -testified to the hours she gave to her needle -and the many directions in which she made use of -it. A mongrel terrier gave them a violent -welcome as they came in, and a dissipated-looking -cat blinked at them lazily from the sofa where it -lay on a cushion. Maggy introduced the two -animals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is Mr. Onions," she said. "I saw him -eating one out of a dustbin and brought him here. -He was starved, Lexie. Now he lives on the fat -of the land, like me. And he's no breed, like -me. Neither is Mrs. Slightly. She's Slightly -because she's slightly soiled, and never will clean -herself, and she's called 'Mrs.' because she's not -married, but ought to be. Isn't it curious, Lexie? -Slightly and Onions are absolute gutter-snipes, but -they've taken to cushions and cream as if they'd -never known anything else. Fred can't bear them. -He wanted me to have a Pekinese with a pedigree, -but </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> haven't a pedigree, so I don't want an -animal with one. Slightly and Onions are such -grateful devils, too. Would you really like a -bath now? After you've had it we'll have tea. -China tea at four and six a pound, my dear! -Think of that! I believe I could drink tea dust -and enjoy it if I knew it was expensive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While Alexandra luxuriated in her bath, -reckless for once of the quantity of water she used, -Maggy took the opportunity of providing something -exceptional in the way of tea. It began with -poached eggs and finished with strawberries and -cream. Maggy was not a bit hungry; she had -lunched late with Woolf. But she knew -Alexandra had been denying herself food and would -eat heartily so long as she could do so in -company. So she crammed loyally, ignoring the -physical discomfort it inflicted on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext" id="id2"><span>Finally she put Alexandra into the most -comfortable of her chairs and drew another close to -it. Onions lay at her feet, Slightly was curled -on her lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now tell me what you've been doing to get -an engagement," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing to tell. No luck anywhere, -that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy sighed. "I wish you could live here. -That's impossible, I know. But why be so proud? -Let me lend you a few pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't. I've not used the money you left. I -meant to give it back to you, but I forgot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You make me angry. Isn't my money good -enough? I'm sorry, Lexie. You've got such -cracked ideas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra decided to be frank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't that," she said. "I would take your -money if I dared and be grateful for it. I would -sooner borrow from you than from any one. But -if I began to borrow, even from you, I should find -it more difficult to keep straight. I've never said -as much to anybody before, but I don't want you -to think I won't take it because it's you who are -offering it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I know what you mean. Once you've -taken the first step you're afraid you'll go on -slithering. But you've got to take some sort of -step to get a job. De Freyne said we were shabby, -Lexie; but if he could see you now! What's the -use of being nearly the same size as your best -friend if you won't let her lend you a dress or -two? Answer me that. That's not borrowing. -That oughtn't to hurt your pride. We used to -swop things. And I've got a dress and a hat, and -a pair of shoes in the other room that are too -small for me. You must have them, Lexie. No -one'll look at you as you are. When managers -see a girl looking shabby they only think of the -reputation of their stage-door. If you'll just let -me give you a leg-up toward a job! Let me drive -you round to the agencies in the car instead of -walking. I won't take 'no.' It's Maggy's call -this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She prevailed in the end, forced the new frock -on Alexandra and the shoes that were too small; -stuffed other things into the parcel when she wasn't -looking—a veil and some gloves, a pot of Bovril -from her sideboard, a tin of biscuits, a bottle of -scent and other things. Alexandra found them -all when she got home. They dropped out of -the most unexpected places. There was a box -of chocolates in one sleeve, some very nice soap -in another. A silk petticoat was wrapped round -a bottle of lemon squash. It was so like Maggy's -indiscriminate largesse. Where she loved, she -was constrained to give, always with both hands. -Before Alexandra left she showed her a photograph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred," she said. "Isn't he handsome? -He's got one white tuft in his black hair. I wish -you knew him, Lexie." Alexandra had all along -been afraid she was going to say that. "I wish -you </span><em class="italics">would</em><span> meet him." Her voice was wistful. -"I'm so proud of you. I've talked about you to -him such a lot. I believe if he were to see you -he'd—think more of me," she added humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doesn't he think a lot of you?" asked Alexandra, -surprised. She put down the photo. The -face, handsome, albeit brutal, did not appeal to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a way. But I don't think he really believes -you're a lady ... that a lady would be real -friends with me. It's difficult to explain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra felt sure she would not like Woolf. -She instantly resented what she suspected must be -his attitude toward Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd be doing me a favor," Maggy said. -"Would you mind very much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra shrank from meeting Woolf because -instinctively she guessed the kind of man he was. -The photograph almost told her. It showed her -a man, not a gentleman, yet whose money bought -him the right of way amongst gentlemen, the type -of man who would assume that every woman, not -a lady, had her price. She felt sorry for Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will meet him if you're very keen about it," -she said at length. It seemed so grudging, so -ungrateful to refuse the one thing required of her. -Maggy would have done, had done, more than -that for her. She acknowledged the concession -now with a spontaneous hug.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll fix a day. We'll have lunch together," -she said. "It makes me so happy, Lexie, to -think I've got you again—my friend. Men say -women can't be friends. They don't know. -Have another look round before you go. You do -think it nice, don't you? Fred's taken it on a -three years' agreement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he married?" asked Alexandra suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then surely he might marry you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would never marry me," said Maggy. -"I don't talk about it. I don't think of it. If he -thought I'd got such an idea in my head I don't -believe he'd want me any longer. He'd hate to -be tied down to anything or anybody for longer -than a three years' agreement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An oppression fell on Alexandra. The room, -which had been flooded by the afternoon sun, was -in shade now. It looked colder, less intimate. -One saw that it was a room whose furniture had -been provided </span><em class="italics">en bloc</em><span> by a Company—the -Company that owned the flats. There was no -individual taste about it. There was nothing -permanent about it. It was not a home, and was not -meant to be one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But after three years—" Alexandra began anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy shut her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you ever love a man," she said, "you'll -know one doesn't think in years. One simply -feels—in minutes."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xiv"><span class="large">XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra did not have to avail herself -of Maggy's offer of her car for the -purpose of visiting the various agencies. -That evening she received a post-card from -Stannard requesting her to call on Mrs. Hugh -Lambert at her house in South Kensington. -Mrs. Lambert's name was familiar to her as that of -the wife of a leading actor-manager on whose -stage she was never seen. She toured the -provinces with plays of her own, while he remained in -London or visited New York, in both of which -cities he was the idol of a vast number of -impressionable women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You could hardly pick up an illustrated paper -without finding Hugh Lambert's photograph in it. -You could buy picture post-cards of him at every -shop where such things are on sale—full-face, in -profile, in costume, out of costume, head and -shoulders, half-length, full-length. How he was able -to devote so much time to being photographed and -yet get a reasonable amount of sleep was a -mystery that did not seem capable of explanation. -He was immensely popular and very good-looking -in an effeminate way. Before arriving at the -dignity of actor-management his talent for poetic -interpretation had been freely recognized. But -success had spoilt him. Now he was mannered. -Costume parts were his hobby. The story went -that, at one of his dress-rehearsals in which he was -figuring as a Roman general in gilded armor, -he asked a lady present what she thought of his -appearance, and that her answer had been: "Oh, -Mr. Lambert, what a girl you are for clothes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Lambert's reputation had increased, so that -of his wife had diminished. At one time she -had promised to develop into an actress of -renown. But for some reason difficult to -understand she never quite succeeded. The critics said -she lacked "personal magnetism," that touch of -attractiveness that gets the actress's individuality -across the footlights. The fact remains that she -failed to please the public in the big roles that -fell to her in her husband's productions. London -dropped her, and Hugh Lambert's name blazed -alone in colored electric lights across the front of -his theater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came a whisper of his marital infidelity. -The couple separated. From this time onwards -Mrs. Lambert was seldom seen on the London stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her career was a disappointing one. None -knew it better than herself. Technically and -emotionally she was a finer actress than her -husband's leading lady, finer indeed than most of the -leading ladies of other managers. That she -became a great attraction in the Provinces was -nothing to her. She loathed the Provinces, their -inadequate theaters, their inferior hotels, and the -incessant traveling. At thirty-five she found -herself as it were back at the collar-work of her earlier -days of struggle, and without its compensations. -Then, conjugal affection and the stimulus of -ambition still unachieved had made touring bearable -and often enjoyable because she shared it with -Lambert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now she was alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hated the sordid manufacturing towns and -their unsophisticated audiences, the eternal -sameness of the self-vaunted watering-places, the dull -spas where fashionable frequenters of the pump -room would condescend to patronize her whom -they would not pay to see in London. She was -a tired woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her came Alexandra at eleven o'clock on the -morning appointed. She had quite forgotten, -until her maid brought her up the card, that she had -asked Stannard to find her a small-part actress who -would also be useful as a companion. She saw -Alexandra at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The impression the latter first got of her was a -pathetic one. She never forgot it. Mrs. Lambert -was sitting up in bed. The small oval of her -face was too pale for health, and her dark hair -accentuated her look of fragility. On the -dressing-table lay a rich copper-colored transformation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you don't mind seeing me in bed," -she said. "I hate keeping people waiting. It's -so selfish. In my time I've sat on dress-baskets -outside dressing-room doors waiting for hours till -some selfish wretch took it into his head to see -me, although he'd made an appointment and knew -perfectly well I was there. I vowed I'd never -treat any one in the same way. Sit down -somewhere and tell me about yourself. What have -you done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very little," Alexandra confessed. "I'm -almost an amateur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert made a wry face. "Not a -moneyed one, I hope?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got forty pounds a year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Officer's daughter's pension?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes." Alexandra looked surprised. "How -did you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm one myself. Officer's daughters can't -do much when they're left stranded. They teach -if they're ugly and sensible enough, and they go -on the stage if they're sufficiently pretty and -foolish. How long have you been at it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how long in an engagement?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I rehearsed for three weeks at the Pall Mall -in the chorus.... I wasn't wanted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't wonder. I can't quite see a girl like -you in the Pall Mall chorus. You must have had -rather an unpleasant time of it there. Were you -worried by men? Before I married I used to -wear a wedding ring. In my innocence, I thought -it would be something of a protection, but it had -quite a contrary effect." She gave Alexandra a -sympathetic look. "Would you really like to -come on tour with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stannard didn't say what you required," -said Alexandra. "Perhaps you won't think I'm -experienced enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I want some one to thread ribbons -through my underclothes, to sleep in my room -when I see bogies, and play a small part—a -servant flicking chairs. I can't promise that it will -increase your theatrical reputation, but perhaps -when you leave me, some minor manager might -be induced to give you a decent part on the -strength of your having been in Mrs. Hugh -Lambert's company. You'll go about with me. I'll -pay all hotel expenses and give you thirty -shillings a week. If you're hard up for clothes, say -so. I've always got a lot more than I want, and -as I send them to the Theatrical Ladies' Guild you -needn't feel under any obligation about taking -them. I hope you'll decide to come. I should -like you to. You won't be overworked and I'll -treat you decently. I'm not a cat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd love to come if you'll have me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we'll consider it arranged then. Stannard -will see to the contract. The tour is for -three months. I leave town in about a fortnight, -but you might as well come and stop here in the -meantime. We shall get to know each other and -rub corners off. Would you care to? Then -come back to-night, somewhere about six. You -can help me with my shopping and packing. I'll -keep you busy!" She held out a thin artistic hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no maid in the hall, so Alexandra -opened the door to let herself out. A man stood -on the steps, about to ring the bell. He was -thirty or so, of an aristocratic type. They both -hesitated for a moment. Then he asked:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you tell me if Mrs. Lambert is in?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—I think so," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you mind telling her I'd like to take -her to lunch. I'll wait if she isn't down yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, certainly," said Alexandra. It struck -her that he seemed to be aware of the late hours -she kept. It argued intimacy. "What name -shall I say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—Chalfont."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went upstairs again, knocked at the door, -and found Mrs. Lambert with the morning's -papers on the bed. She was reading of her -husband's projected departure for America with his -successful repertoire. There were tears in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall have to take to glasses," she said, -looking up. "I can't read without weeping. What -is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Chalfont is downstairs. He wants to -know if you will lunch with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please tell Lord Chalfont," said Mrs. Lambert -in a low voice, "that it's the anniversary of -my separation from my husband, and that I'm -lunching on my heart. But he can come to dinner -to-night if he likes. Ask him to put you in a taxi."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She returned to the newspapers.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xv"><span class="large">XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Lexie's coming to lunch to-morrow," -Maggy informed Woolf. "We must -give her a good one, Fred, and you'll -behave, won't you, D.D.?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"D.D." in Maggy's language of love stood for -Dearest Darling. She was not free from the -modern, time-saving habit, set by trade advertisements -and the halfpenny papers, of abbreviating -words in common use down to their lowest denomination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So she's woken up to the fact that there may -be something to be got out of you," yawned Woolf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Fred. -Lexie couldn't be on the make-haste. She's not -made that way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sounds as if she's too good and uninteresting -to live."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She isn't uninteresting. You'll like her. -She's very pretty. Do be good and do me credit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well ... I like that!" Woolf stared at -her, half-amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean, don't say the things you say to me. -She's sensitive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear girl, don't teach me how to talk to -women. Judging by what you've told me I'm -inclined to think your copybook Lexie is a deep -'un. I don't think I'll come, anyway."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, but you must. I've asked her on purpose -to meet you. I want her to see what a duck -you are, and to like you, and not to think me bad -just because I let you wipe your shoes on me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slipped to the ground and sat at his feet. -Woolf liked her in her devoted moods. Like -many another unworthy man, adulation gave him -peculiar satisfaction. Maggy was rarely flippant -now. She loved Woolf with a passion that almost -frightened her. It was not a passion of the mind. -He dominated her in other ways. She was too -transparent to hide how much she cared. She -gave too much. It was her pleasure, when she -knew he was going to stay several hours with her, -to take off his shoes and put on the pumps which -with a few other things he kept at the flat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She commenced to unlace his shoes now. Then -she dragged his pumps from under the sofa, -kissing them first before she put them on his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You funny creature. What makes you do -that?" he asked, well enough aware of her reason, -but desirous of extracting an expression of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I adore you. I feel like Mary -Magdalene or whoever it was who broke the -precious ointment all over her Master's feet. -Oh, yes, I know who it was. But do you think -she wouldn't have done it just the same if He had -been an ordinary man? He was </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> lord. She -never thought of Him as everybody's Lord. That -isn't blasphemy. It's love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know how I love you," she went -on ardently. "Men think they know how to love, -but they never love as a woman loves. I love you -so much that first of all I wish I had been your -mother, so that I might have held you in my arms -when you were tiny and given you dill water for -your tummy aches, and bathed and powdered you.... -And next I wish I had been your twin sister -to have grown up with you.... And next I wish -I had been the first woman in your life.... And -next I wish.... Oh, and I'm thankful to be—just -yours." She sat up, and went on in rather -a tense voice. "I wonder if you'll ever get tired -of me. Could you, Fred?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm not yet." He gave a playful pull -at her loosened hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And treat me like men treat the A.F.'s in -story-books."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's an A.F.?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abandoned female, you goose. That's what I -am. And when you've finished with me will you -leave me to starve in a garret while you live in a -mansion with a beautiful and good wife? And -will I haunt your doorstep and throw vitriol in -your belovedest face?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What nonsense you're talking, Maggy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't all nonsense. It isn't only in the -story-books that women do that. They do it in real -life too. I read about a case in the paper not long -ago, and the judge asked the girl why she did it. -She answered 'Because I love him.' The silly -judge said: 'That's a funny way of showing -love,' and there was laughter in Court, in brackets. -Laughter in Court! I expect it sounded to that -girl like laughter in hell. I know what she must -have felt. I daresay she lived so long with the -man and loved him so much that she felt as good -as his wife. Then when he left her, she must -have gone mad, poor thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got up and stood in front of him, looking -very sweet and alluring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long will you love me, I wonder?" she mused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf drew her on to his knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So long as you look like you do now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean so long as I'm pretty? Wouldn't -you love me if I looked like poor Mrs. Slightly? -She's losing her fur."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter with Mrs. Slightly?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not care for Maggy's mongrel pets, and -his tone was not encouraging. It put Maggy on -her guard. She had a premonition that it would -be best to hide Mrs. Slightly's secret until it could -no longer be hidden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not quite sure," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I left her in the bathroom. I'll get her. She -hasn't had her supper yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went out of the room. Woolf heard her -calling the cat softly, then came a smothered -exclamation, and she called to him eagerly, excitedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Fred! Fred! Come here! Come and </span><em class="italics">look</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He followed her. She was standing before -Mrs. Slightly's basket. The cat was purring, its -eyes half-shut, tired after the tremendous function -of motherhood. Six little rat-like, squirming -bodies lay against her own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Six of them!" breathed Maggy triumphantly. -"Aren't they lovely! Wasn't it worth going on -the tiles for, Mrs. Dearest? The cat's cradle is -full, full!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf disengaged her arm from his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's disgusting," he said angrily. "You -ought to have got rid of her before this, or—or -kept her in. You can't keep the kittens. They'll -have to be drowned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy looked at him blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't you pleased?" she asked, surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pleased! At a sight like that! Besides, you -told me a lie. I won't have lies. You must have -known before you went to the theater that the cat -had had kittens—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't. Oh, how dare you say so! Do you -think I'd have gone out and left her all these -hours without any milk by her side if I'd guessed -they were coming so soon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flew off, and came back with a saucer of -bread and milk. She put it on the floor and went -down on her hands and knees beside the newly-born -animals. There was a rapt expression on -her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I'll stop," said Woolf huffily, and -moved to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He expected that she would call him back, but -to his surprise she did not even look up. She was -wholly absorbed with the natural phenomenon. -For the first time in their intercourse she was -oblivious of his presence. She did not even hear -him go. She knelt entranced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last a sigh broke from her. She became articulate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you babies!" she whispered. "Oh, you -little, little things!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xvi"><span class="large">XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Maggy looked forward with immense -eagerness to the luncheon at which -Woolf was to meet Alexandra. She -had a double reason for desiring it. In a sense, -Alexandra's presence would mean that she no -longer disapproved of the connection: it would -give it a certain sanction, an authority it would -otherwise lack. Her other reason concerned -Woolf himself. In spite of his assertions to the -contrary, she was sure he knew how to appreciate -a woman of culture. Once he saw how different -Alexandra was from the girls he usually met, his -regard for herself would grow stronger, if only -because she had the advantage of the friendship -of such a superior being.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was not altogether wrong in her assumption -that Woolf liked a lady, although it must be -admitted he seldom felt at ease with one. He -was only himself with déclassé women, or a girl -of Maggy's class, who had few sensibilities to -shock. All the same, he was contemptuous of the -women whose society he frequented, and he had -a sneaking admiration for the women of the more -sedate world to which he did not belong. It was -likely that he would ultimately marry a lady, if -he married at all, since he considered that women, -other than the class that will not give itself away -except in the bond of holy matrimony, were not -worthy of any such honor. He was a cad, of -course, but a cad of ambitions and brains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's rhapsodies about Alexandra left him -cold. He did not credit Maggy with being much -of a judge concerning matters pertaining to the -aristocracy. He did not believe that Alexandra -had the breeding Maggy was always vaunting. -He merely supposed that she was more subtle than -Maggy, one who could ape superior manners, much -as an astute parlormaid can.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fact that this friend so exclusive, according -to Maggy, should overcome her scruples -sufficiently to meet him, knowing perfectly well in -what relation he stood to Maggy, was sufficient -confirmation that she had never had any scruples -of importance to overcome. He was amused that -Maggy could be so hoodwinked by one of her own -sex. But then Maggy was a little fool—pretty -and taking, and that was all. He was too -egregious to appreciate that real friendship for -Maggy, friendship which overrode personal -considerations, had induced Alexandra to accept the -invitation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned up at the flat at the time appointed. -They were to lunch in the restaurant attached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf could not help being impressed with her -appearance. He could not deny that she was -really exceedingly pretty. Her features were -quite perfect—white brow, small straight nose, -well-shaped mouth. He saw all this at a glance, -the cool, scrutinizing glance of valuation with -which he favored every attractive member of her -sex, whether a duchess in her carriage in Bond -Street or a shop-girl on her way to work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy introduced her friend and her lover -with mutual pride. The tone in which she did it -left no doubt that what she would have loved to -say was:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is Lexie. Isn't she lovely? You know -she is;" and then with a certain dubiousness: -"My Fred.... </span><em class="italics">Do</em><span> like him. Surely you must -think him handsome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delighted to meet any friend of Maggy's," -said Woolf cordially. "Been a long time -coming round, haven't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra instantly resented the unnecessary -familiarity he put into his tone, but for Maggy's -sake she refrained from showing it. Woolf was -no better and no worse than she had expected to -find him. He was merely vulgar, from the -salmon-pink handkerchief in his breast-pocket to -the too-valuable pin in his tie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I came as soon as I was asked," she answered -equably. "Maggy and I are old friends. -There's no reason why I should keep away from her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, there isn't. Only Maggy thought -you didn't approve of—this little show." He -waved his arm round the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a dear little flat. I like it very much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf laughed loudly. "The flat's all right. -Perhaps I should have said our little ménage à -deux. There's no harm in it. Everybody's -doing it, aren't they, Maggy? Come along to lunch, -you girls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If Alexandra could have run away then and -there she would have done so. She guessed what -she was in for. Maggy was looking nervous. -She wanted Alexandra and Fred to "get on," to -like each other. She had done her best to make -her lover avoid the sort of conversation Alexandra -would not like. She was dreadfully afraid he was -going to spoil it all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Woolf led the way down to the restaurant -she slipped behind and whispered:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie, don't be shocked if Fred talks a bit. -I've told him not to because you don't like it; but -if he forgets—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra gave her arm a little squeeze. It -heartened her. Her adoring eyes went to the big -figure, striding on in front of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doesn't he look a dear?" she asked. "Could -I </span><em class="italics">help</em><span> it? Fancy him wanting me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her abjectness was a revelation to Alexandra. -She had not conceived it possible that cheeky, -masterful Maggy, could have surrendered her -independence so completely. In this man's -company she was quieter, more subdued, ever -watchful to please, to laugh when he laughed—a little -too much perhaps, too ready to applaud his most -commonplace remarks as witticisms, his untasteful -jokes as gems of wit. She had a mind of her -own. She hardly showed it. His assertive -manhood seemed to have swamped her personality. -All the time she was considering him. He -scarcely considered her at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Conversation did not run freely during the first -part of the meal. Woolf wanted to shine in -Alexandra's eyes as a good host. He showed it -by bullying the waiters over trivialities, until she -began to feel quite uncomfortable. His was not -the quietly assertive tone of the man who knows -what he wants and how to order it. It was -obvious to the very attendants themselves that he -blustered in order to draw attention to his -importance, just as he would tip excessively and yet -argue over a trifling item on the bill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Over his coffee and a cigarette his manner -showed some improvement. Still, he had not -taken Alexandra's measure. She was telling -Maggy of her sudden luck in obtaining an -engagement, and that she was going to stay with -Mrs. Lambert. Maggy was delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm glad!" she said enthusiastically. -"It's tip-top, Lexie. Fred, did you hear that? -Lexie's going on tour with Mrs. Lambert. Isn't -it splendid for her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Splendid for Mrs. Lambert. Rather!" concurred -Woolf, with heavy gallantry. "You'll -have plenty of opportunities of ingenue parts with -the lady," he went on, knowingly. "You'll suit -her to a T. You'll play propriety, of course! -Dashed funny, that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand," said Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, come, we're none of us as good as we -look. Of course you've heard about Mrs. Lambert -and Lord Chalfont? I told you everybody -was doing it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her crimson face and indignant eyes did not -warn him of the blunder he was committing. -Maggy was playing nervously with the crystallized -sugar, afraid of angering Woolf by stemming -the tide of his untactful garrulity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent forward, lowering his voice. "It's -like this," he said, and began to give details of a -liaison which Alexandra had no reason to credit, -details which were offensive and unnecessary. -She was genuinely shocked. Involuntarily she -pushed back her chair while he was still talking -and made the first excuse she could think of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall have to be going now, Maggy. I'm -so sorry. I—I'm late for an appointment as it -is. I—I'll come and say good-by before I go -on tour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must you really go?" asked Maggy weakly. -She knew that Alexandra could stand no more. -It meant that her poor little attempt at concord -between the only two people she cared about had -come to nought. "Fred, tell the waiter to order -a taxicab."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't wait for that," said Alexandra. "I -shall be too late. I ought to go at once. I shall -find one in the street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She managed a reassuring smile to show Maggy -that though her feelings were outraged she meant -to get over it, and let it make no difference to their -friendship. Now that she had met Woolf and -learnt the sort of man he was, nothing would have -induced her to waver in allegiance to Maggy. -Maggy needed her though she might never say it. -She knew she could not bring herself to meet -Woolf again, even for Maggy's sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He insisted on escorting her out of the -restaurant and putting her into a cab. He was aware -now from her almost monosyllabic rejoinders that -he had made a mistake, spoken in bad taste. It -was suddenly obvious to him that she was a -lady—the "real thing," and that he had offended -her. Simultaneously with this came the desire -to know more of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you're annoyed," he said. "Have -I been a bit too plain-spoken?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's my taxi," she said, disregarding the -question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He helped her in, knowing that she disapproved -of him. A natural premonition told him that she -would not be desirous of meeting him again unless -he could convince her he was aware of his error -and regretted it. He was distinctly taken with -her, more now than ever that her fastidiousness -made her difficult. He leant toward her and -spoke almost anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to meet you again. Can't you dine -with me one night before you go? I'm sorry if -I've offended you.... I made a mistake. I -thought you were Maggy's sort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The apology, so disloyal to Maggy, as well as -insulting to herself, inflamed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You unspeakable cad!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf returned to Maggy rather red in the -face. She had left the restaurant and was -waiting for him in her sitting-room. She was afraid -to reproach him, and yet anxious that he should -know he had blundered. She was terribly disappointed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shocked Lexie," she told him, and waited -to see what he would say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made no answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You thought her pretty?" she went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf was biting his finger-nails savagely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you?" she persisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes. Very pretty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had been repulsed, snubbed, and was -rankling under the smart of it. It made him turn to -the girl who had nothing but devotion for him for -a salve to his wounded vanity. The girl who had -just gone was provokingly desirable because of her -cool eyes, her scornful mouth, her aloofness, the -disdain of her. But Maggy was all his, living for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her in his arms almost savagely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're worth ten of her," he exclaimed; and -in his irritation believed what he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her body relaxed submissively in the grip of his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my God, how I love you!" she murmured, -trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid her cheek against his and stroked his -hand. "Will you do me a favor, Fred?" she -went on presently, unconsciously taking advantage -of what she regarded as a soft mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it? A bit more money than I give you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I don't want more money. I've got -enough. I've never been greedy that way, have I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. More silly you. Women should make -hay while the sun shines."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him with soft eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When the sun shines some women only want -to let it warm them through and through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's the favor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pointed at the basket containing Mrs. Slightly -and her offspring, which Woolf had not noticed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You asked me to have them drowned. I'd -rather find homes for them. Please, D.D.?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, good Lord—why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew away from him, walked over to the -basket, and leant over it, as if communing with -Mrs. Slightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had a dream last night," she said. "It's -because of that I—I want Mrs. Slightly's -kittens to live. I dreamt that I was a mother cat, -only in my dream I had but one little kitty. But -it was all mine and I loved it. It had soft black -hair with a white tuft in it—like its father." She -looked straight at the white lock that was so -singular a feature of Woolf's dark hair. "And -one afternoon when I had come back from a stroll -I went to the basket to find that my Kitty was -gone. I mewed for it everywhere. There was -nowhere that I did not look. I couldn't possibly, -as a cat, know that the human I looked up to, the -giver of food and all good things could do -anything so evil as to make away with the precious -thing. It was a nightmare. In my dream, I was -searching, searching for hours. My cat-heart was -breaking. When I woke up, I was mewing! -Don't laugh, Fred. And I made up my mind that -I couldn't have Mrs. Slightly's kittens drowned. -Oh, the people who drown kittens and take away -calves from cows and lambs from sheep, must be -hard-hearted beasts. Why, if I had a baby, a -little soft warm baby, and somebody wanted to -deprive me of it—Fred!" She caught at his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Startled by the sharp note of appeal in her voice -he put a startled question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy had cast her arms protectively round the -basket where Mrs. Slightly and her kittens slept, -all unconscious of issues concerning their fate. -Her shoulders were shaking. She was moved by -some extraordinary emotion. But when she -turned to Woolf again she was calm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am quite sure," she said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xvii"><span class="large">XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The change from the drab surroundings of -the King's Cross Road to Mrs. Lambert's -pretty house in South Kensington made -Alexandra feel as though she had escaped from -purgatory. Hers was the temperament that -withers in a sad environment and expands in a -bright one. Whilst in her lodgings she had had -to put up with dinginess and discomfort: Albert -Place was the antithesis of everything unpleasant. -She seemed to breathe more freely there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The house was small, Georgian and white. -Great wire baskets overflowing with pink climbing -geraniums hung from its porch and balcony. -Between its green iron railings and the front door -was a strip of well-kept garden full of shrubs and -ferns kept fresh and glistening with a constant -supply of moisture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inside it was equally delightful. Mrs. Lambert -had a nice taste for form and color. Where -Maggy would have put hot-toned plush and -burnished copper the actress had quiet soft brocades -and silver. Her furniture consisted mainly of -delicate Georgian mahogany as decorative as it was -comfortable. Alexandra reveled in it all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then again, the change meant relief from anxiety. -She had something to do, she would be paid -for it. For three months or more she would be -free from continuous alarm about the morrow. -Here was occupation, cleanliness, comfort, good -food, agreeable companionship. Over and over -again she kept reminding herself of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The days that followed her arrival were busy -ones. The tour was to start in a fortnight. -There was much shopping to do, packing, -preparation for it. The small part Alexandra was to -play, that of a parlormaid, did not take up much -of her time rehearsing. Mrs. Lambert did not -rehearse at all. Her understudy relieved her of -that duty. Occasionally she would spend an hour -watching her company and conferring with her -manager, but so long as things went on smoothly, -as they generally did, she avoided the theatrical -side of her affairs as much as she could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fact was, as Alexandra quickly found out, -Mrs. Lambert disliked the stage. She loved -acting because she had a gift for it. But she was -not eaten up with her own achievements and was -quite free from the artificial manner and the petty -interests of average stage-folk. Her chief -pleasure lay in getting away from London in her -excellent Panhard limousine on every available occasion -and forgetting that she belonged to the stage. -Alexandra shared many a pleasant drive with her -that hot end of July, lunching in the shade of some -quiet Surrey lane or the more deserted parts of -Richmond Park.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A day or two before they were to start on tour -they met Maggy in a Regent Street shop. -Maggy's appearance was very striking. Her -coloring just now was more vivid than usual. She -bloomed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lexie!" she exclaimed, "I was half -afraid you'd gone off without saying good-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know I wouldn't have done that," Alexandra protested.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't given her a moment to herself," put -in Mrs. Lambert. She was looking at Maggy -with the frank admiration of an unjealous woman. -"Are you great friends, you two?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We used to chum together," Maggy said. -"Lexie is my patron saint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then you must see more of her before -she goes. Won't you come and lunch with us -to-morrow?—seventy-four, Albert Place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should love to," Maggy answered eagerly. -"May I really?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, do," said Mrs. Lambert. "Half-past one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded, and Maggy moved away to join -Woolf, who had come in. He glanced curiously -at Alexandra as she and Mrs. Lambert left the shop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's Mrs. Lambert, with Lexie," Maggy -told him. "I was just talking to them. -Mrs. Lambert asked me to lunch at her house. Isn't -it kind of her? She looked at me so nicely too. -Our hearts seemed to shake hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf had scarcely noticed Mrs. Lambert. -He had only had eyes for Alexandra, and was -incensed because she had not acknowledged him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your precious particular friend cut me," he -said. "I suppose you saw that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure she couldn't have seen you. Why -should she cut you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf had his own reasons for surmising why -she had done so, but he was not going to give them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like you to drop that friendship," he -said vindictively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drop Lexie? Me? You're joking!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy very seldom argued with Woolf. Her -subjugation was nearly complete, but she still had -some spirit left. She showed it now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I gave up living with Lexie to come to you," -she reminded him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you regret it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't, but I probably shall. Anyway, -instead of turning up her nose at me she's behaved -like a darling. I couldn't go back on her. Why, -I—I'd rather have drowned Mrs. Slightly's -kittens with my own hands than been so mean as that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you needn't lunch with her at -Mrs. Lambert's. You might meet Lord Chalfont -there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not in the least likely. But what would -it matter if I did?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you said you didn't know him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never spoken to the bounder, if that's -what you mean," said Woolf testily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand you. You generally don't -care what I do or where I go when I'm not with -you. When I see Lexie again I shall tell her -you're huffy with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now Alexandra had not deliberately meant to -cut Woolf. She would not have done so out of -consideration to Maggy; but as she had only seen -his reflection in one of the shop mirrors she did -not consider it necessary to turn round and bow to -him. Besides, she knew he was the sort of man -Mrs. Lambert would not care about, and it was -quite likely that if she had acknowledged him he -would have presumed on her good nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a lovely girl!" Mrs. Lambert said, -when they were in the street. "She's a joy to -look at. Who was the man who joined her? I -seem to know his face. He looked Jewish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His name is Woolf."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if he's the person who is exploiting -Primus cars. He owns some racehorses too, and -a sporting paper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the same," said Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Chalfont knows more about him than I -do. He had him turned out of his club. It's an -exclusive one, and some thoughtless young fellow -had brought him in. I don't think he's very nice, -dear. What a pity he knows your friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra hesitated. She guessed that -Mrs. Lambert had asked Maggy out of consideration -to herself. But if she knew that Woolf and -Maggy were intimate perhaps she would wish to -rescind that invitation. Alexandra did not want -to be disloyal to Maggy, nor yet to let Mrs. Lambert -be deceived about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy thinks a lot of him," she hesitated. -"I don't want to talk about her because she is my -friend, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert laid her hand on Alexandra's -for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The majority of us have got a 'but' in our -lives," she said in a curious tone, and then added -with apparent irrelevance, "Did I tell you that -Lord Chalfont will be staying with us on tour?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xviii"><span class="large">XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Maggy meant to disregard Woolf's -injunction against her going to Mrs. Lambert's. -The temptation to see Alexandra -was too strong to resist. Moreover, she -thought it likely that he would forget having made -it. Then, if she went and he still objected, she -would admit having disobeyed him. She would -not lie about it. She never did tell lies; not on -moral grounds but because lying was cowardly and -she did not know the meaning of cowardice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf had been a little overbearing with her -lately, too much the master. She did not mind -that sort of tyranny so long as it implied fondness, -but she had a feeling that he was changing -towards her. For one thing, she knew he was -annoyed at her condition. That hurt her -abominably. In books she had read of husbands and -wives being drawn closer together, of estranged -couples becoming reconciled under similar -conditions. Indeed, she had hoped for special -tenderness from him directly he knew they existed. She -had even tried to delude herself into the hope that -he might marry her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not that she wanted any legal hold on -him. She would not have loved Woolf any more -because of marriage. But if he married her it -would be a guarantee of his love, which just now -she had reason to doubt. That was all. The -rights which marriage confer on a woman meant -nothing to her. She only wanted to get rid of the -nightmare dread of separation from him. Any -other girl similarly situated would have stood out -for marriage, but Maggy had too much pride for -that. She recoiled from a more than possible refusal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt thrown back upon herself, lonely in -spirit. A faintness assailed her whenever she -thought of what she would have to undergo -without a soul knowing of it except Woolf. And on -this subject, so closely connecting them, Woolf -was cold and remote. He would have shown -more concern had she cut her finger. She wanted -comfort. It would have helped her to confide in -some sympathetic woman. She wondered whether -she dared tell Alexandra, and decided that it -would not be fair or even expedient. Virginal -Alexandra would not understand, or if she -understood she would be more afraid than Maggy -herself. Obviously she could neither reassure nor -comfort her, since the thing was right out of her -experience, and always would be. Poor Maggy! -Her abundant vitality, her pulsing affections, made -motherhood infinitely desirable to her. As a child -she had scarcely had time to play with dolls -because she was always on the stage, but she had -always yearned over babies. Nature, which takes -no account of the individual, concerned only with -the reproduction of the race, had intended her to -be a mother. Man-made shibboleths were to deny -her that right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took great pains in dressing for her visit -to Mrs. Lambert's. She was free from the spirit -of feminine emulation, but she wanted to look her -best, to please Alexandra's critical taste, so that -she might remember how she looked that day, in -case they might never see each other again. -Maggy had never before been inclined to depression, -but the clammy fingers of morbidity touched -her now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She elected to wear a frock of sprigged muslin -and a simple hat that she had trimmed herself. -The hat was in part a concession to Woolf, for -she took pleasure in such tasks, and liked him to -see that she could excel in them. Thus dressed, -she was quite perfect. Her coloring was so vivid -and her figure so mature that extreme simplicity -suited her. But she was not quite satisfied with -the effect. Her eyes roved over the dressing-table -in search of some finishing touch, and came to a -stop at her jewel-case. From it she took a -diamond bracelet Woolf had given her, and put it -on. He had bestowed it on her with great -impressiveness, and she accordingly believed it to be -very valuable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she reached Albert Place neither -Mrs. Lambert nor Alexandra was in. They had been -detained somewhere and had telephoned through -to say so. The maid showed her into the -drawing room. Somewhat to her dismay she found -it occupied by a man. She did not know him by -sight, but she immediately came to the conclusion -that he must be Lord Chalfont. She felt -awkward, uncertain whether it was "proper" to speak -or not. She had not encountered any men of rank -before, and had not the average chorus girl's -assurance with male members of the peerage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Chalfont got up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fancy we're both here for the same reason: -to lunch," he said pleasantly. "Shall we become -known to each other? I'm Lord Chalfont."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name's Delamere," rejoined Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We both owe something to the French, then. -It ought to provide us with a sort of </span><em class="italics">entente cordiale</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't believe Delamere's my right name. -It's too high-falutin'. But it's the only one I -know of. My mother took it for the stage and it -had to do for my christening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The statement was made quite innocently. -Chalfont was amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure I've seen you before," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His easy manner gave her confidence. She -liked him. She felt she could talk to him without -being on her guard. The way in which he looked -at her had nothing disturbing in it. It was not the -hunting look which she was accustomed to see in -men's eyes, and against which she was for ever -armed. If there was a touch of admiration in it -there was also respect. She recognized the -difference, and knew she had to do with a gentleman. -Woolf had spoken of him as a bounder. There -he was obviously wrong. Lord Chalfont looked -the sort of person she had seen in historical -pictures, dressed in silk and lace, walking -unconcernedly to have his head chopped off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daresay you've seen me often," she agreed. -"I'm in the front row at the Pall Mall Theater—black -chiffon over pink. Then I'm somebody's -boot polish in the advertisements—my photograph, -you know—cleaning my own shoes without -dirtying my frock. And I'm somebody else's -motorcoats, and nearly everybody's mouth-wash -and cigarettes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove! Do you know, I've always wondered -who they got to sit for those advertisements. -How's it arranged? Do you mind telling me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. Sometimes the people—cigarettes -or motorcoats, you know—write and ask -you to come and pose for them at their shops; -but generally it's done through a photographer. -He gets paid for taking the photos, and you get a -little cheque and a lot of advertisement. When -it's for a mouth-wash you have to put on a broad -grin and show your teeth. It's awfully tiring -sometimes. For a hair-restorer you wear your -hair down, and if you haven't much they fluff it out -with a long switch so as to make people believe in -the stuff."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not tempted to use it, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather not! I've got too much hair as it is. -It won't even fall out in the autumn and spring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How about the cigarettes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I daresay they're all right, though I don't -suppose you'd want to smoke them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just what I thought. Personally, I never buy -anything that's advertised if I can help it. When -I have it I invariably have a feeling that I'm -being taken in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it's the women more than the men -who are taken in," said Maggy thoughtfully. -"Women believe anything they see in the papers. -I used to once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "You get to know a lot -about make-believe when you're on the stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you do. How is it I've never met -you here before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm Lexie's friend. I mean Miss Hersey. -Excuse my bad habit of speaking of people by -their Christian names. I know it's not right. I -don't, myself, like to hear women call their -husbands 'Daddy' or 'Father' before strangers. -It always sounds to me as if they wanted you to -consider yourself one of the family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you know Mrs. Lambert, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hardly. I met her with Lexie in a shop the -other day and she asked me to lunch. So here -I am. Have I come too early?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the contrary. I'm very glad you're here, -relieving my solitude."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid I was boring you. I can only -talk rubbish. I can't help it. You see, I don't -know anything about the things that sensible -people talk about. Pictures and books and politics."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you do yourself an injustice. Please -don't imagine I say it out of compliment, but it's -evident you are full of ideas, jolly interesting ones, -too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everybody has ideas of a sort, I suppose. -What I mean is, I can't discuss any of the subjects -that really matter. Religion, for instance. I -know there are a thousand and one different ways -of worshiping God, but I haven't brains enough -to argue about them. I'm far more interested in -a thousand different patterns for crochet, or the -everyday things you see from the top of a bus. -I'm just hot and cold, or happy or miserable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which is it to-day?" asked Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no flippancy in his tone. He saw -that Maggy was an innately simple girl, quite -natural, and by no means unintelligent. He -found her frankness very refreshing, and he could -but admire her delightful appearance. He was -anything but bored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which is it to-day?" he repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Warm and happy—just now. I'm not often -miserable. I love my life," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She meant it. The pretty room, the flowers -abounding in it, the shaded windows framing -masses of pink geranium, the soft ease of the big -armchair she was seated in, so different from the -new-art, unadaptable chairs of her own flat, had -induced in her bodily comfort and mental -contentment. For the moment she had forgotten the -anxieties caused by her physical state. -Unconsciously too she had fallen under the charm of -Chalfont's amiability. She had never met a man -like him. She felt she did not want to be on her -guard with him. Whether he was more honest -or more reasonable than other men she had known -she did not stop to think about. Had she been -asked for her chief impression of him she would -have expressed it in the word clean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So while she waited for Alexandra's return she -let her candor have full play, keeping Chalfont -amused by her cheery talk and quaintly humorous -accounts of her life behind the scenes at the Pall -Mall. She had brought with her a number of -picture postcards of herself to give to Alexandra, -for recently she had become quite a photographic -favorite, and these she showed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is the one I like best," he said. "In -the dress you have on now. It's charming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The dress, you mean. I'm so glad you like -it. I was afraid it was too quiet. I'm never quite -sure about my dresses and hats. My taste in -clothes isn't always quiet. I love bright colors. -They make me feel warm and comfy. You know -how dogs like rolling in mud. I have the same -feeling about colors. If I see anything very -bright and gorgeous I want to hug it to me for -joy. People are always staring at me in the street -because of what I'm wearing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont could quite understand that any one, -in the street or elsewhere, would find pleasure in -looking twice at such a beautiful creature. But -he did not say so in so many words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not mind that," he said. "There's -an esthetic sense in nearly everybody that makes -them glad to look at anything—radiant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Radiant means brilliance, doesn't it? Talking -of brilliance, do you like this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held out her arm with the bracelet on it. -Chalfont had already noticed it. Now he gave it -a closer inspection. Whilst being a good judge -of precious stones he had a great liking for paste -when it was old and good, but what he saw now -was merely a product of the modern manufacturer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A French copy, isn't it?" he asked, thoughtlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's eyes widened. French—copy? -Her diamond bracelet a copy—imitation! She -could not credit it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—they're diamonds!" she stammered, -filled with a horrible misgiving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont noticed the sharp note of disappointment -in her voice and put it down to one of two -causes. Either she had been defrauded by -somebody or the bracelet was a present meant to -deceive her. He made haste to modify the opinion -he had expressed about it. Looking at it once -more, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it? I'm awfully sorry. Of course, I -must be mistaken. Hullo!" he interjected with -relief, "here are Mrs. Lambert and Miss Hersey."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xix"><span class="large">XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lunch was over. Chalfont had taken his -departure; Mrs. Lambert had excused -herself on account of a bad headache and -gone to lie down. The two girls were alone. -The personal equation began to trouble Maggy again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't seen you to talk to since you came to -the flat," she said diffidently. "Were you really -cross with Fred? Of course, what he said about -Lord Chalfont was only what he'd heard. I -could see by your face you were shocked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I wasn't exactly shocked," Alexandra answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you didn't like it. Fred didn't mean any -harm. He's like me: he doesn't think what he -says. I wish you liked him. You don't, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You make me uncomfortable, Maggy. We -can't all like the same people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you're sorry I'm so fond of him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very sorry," said Alexandra in a low voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't stop caring because of that. It's—it's -in my system. Some girls fall in love with a -man because they believe he's good or noble or -brave or something they're particularly keen on; -but if they find out they're mistaken they're off -that man like fleas from a dead rabbit. If that -sounds vulgar please forgive me, Lexie. The -words just came out. It's one of Fred's -expressions. What I mean is, I can't love like that, -though I know I should be much more comfortable -if I could. If I knew you'd stolen Mrs. Lambert's -purse or gone off with a rag-picker it -wouldn't make a bit of difference to me. It's you -I love, not what you do. And I feel the same -about Fred, only more so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Prior to this, Mrs. Lambert had asked Alexandra -a few questions about Maggy's relations -with Woolf. The answers she had fitted in with -certain information about the man himself -previously imparted to her by Chalfont. What she -deduced from the two statements made her sorry -for Alexandra's friend and a little anxious about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No girl is safe with a man like that," she had -said to Alexandra. "If I were you I should try -and persuade her to break with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Alexandra meant to try. There was one -weapon she might have used to shake Maggy's -loyalty to Woolf: the cruelly belittling way in -which he had referred to her just before her cab -drove off. But she shrank from that. It was -too poisonous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What would you say if I asked you to leave -him?" she asked. "Supposing I needed you -back with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy weighed the problem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say you jolly well knew I couldn't -come," she answered. "I'm all in. If Fred was -in Hell and wanted me there I believe I'd have to -get to him. You don't know what it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the little things about him that have eaten -into me. I'm corrupted, or corroded, whatever -it is. Perhaps it's both. I love the white lock in -his hair, the little pellet in his ear where he got -peppered out shooting once, the scent of his -tobacco, the smell of a Harris tweed suit he's got." She -sniffed sensuously. "And there are other -things I can't tell you about...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he were to die or married some one else -you would have to resign yourself to doing -without him," argued Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps. I don't know. He's not dead or -married, and I'm his. I know he could manage -without me. I'm just like an ornament to him. -He dusts me and puts me back on my shelf, and -takes me down sometimes and has a look at me. -I hope to God he'll never drop or break me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra was disturbed by the depth of -passion in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know what you think about Fred," Maggy -went on. "You think he's something near a cad. -Well, there are lots of women who love cads and -who don't know that they are cads. Perhaps I'm -one of them. You can't put me out of this, Lexie -dear. I don't know how it's going to end and I -don't want to know. That's where real life is -rather like the stage. The tag to a play's kept -dark, never spoken until the curtain's about to hide -the players from view. If we knew how things -were going to end with us—knew the tags to our -lives—I guess some of us wouldn't be able to go -on with our parts off the stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was like arguing with a fatalist. Her loyalty -to Woolf was as unalterable as destiny. -Alexandra gave up trying to move her. She changed -the conversation, and an hour later Maggy went -upstairs in response to a message from Mrs. Lambert, -who wanted to say good-by to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert's bedroom was in half darkness. -She was still racked with a headache, but she -wanted to see Maggy and to hear whether Alexandra -had succeeded in persuading her to break with -Woolf. For this purpose she had left the two -girls alone together. Maggy closed the door -gently behind her and tip-toed toward the bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so sorry you feel bad," she said feelingly. -"It won't do for me to stop talking to you. That -will make your head worse. I'll just say good-by -and go. Thank you for being so kind to me. It -was nice to come and see Lexie here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're very fond of her?" asked Mrs. Lambert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's fine. I lived with her, you see. When -you live for weeks with another girl in one room, -and don't have a cross word it stands to reason -one of you must be eighteen-carat. That's Lexie. -She never complained or lost heart, not even when -things were bad and I left her. She's the quiet -sort but she's a fighter. There were soldiers in -her family. It comes out in her. But I've -started to talk—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't tire me. Sit down. It's -refreshing to hear a woman speak well of another. -Rather a novelty too. Aren't you jealous of her -going away with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm awfully glad she's found you. I was -thinking this afternoon how well she fitted in with -everything here. She's a lady, like you. Things -that I never fretted about because I wasn't used -to them, she must have missed terribly. She's -fine lace. I'm crochet work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert laid her thin hand on Maggy's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How would you like to come on tour with -us?" she asked. "I could make room for you. -But I suppose your contract at the Pall Mall -wouldn't permit of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unexpected proposition was tempting -enough. Under different circumstances Maggy -would have jumped at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't the contract that would stop me," -she said with some hesitation. "But I've got a—flat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a pregnant pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there's another reason.... I—I have -to go away for a little while ... and I was glad -that Lexie would be away. Oh, what have I said? -You don't understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's face flushed crimson and then went -white. Mrs. Lambert's hand still lay on hers. -Contact with it gave her a feeling of sisterhood, -a longing to confide. Her pent up feelings -suddenly found voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to tell some one," she choked. "I've -got to go through with something I hate—and -dread. I've longed to speak to another woman -about it, but there was only Lexie, and she's not"—she -stumbled over the word—"married. I -wouldn't tell her. It wouldn't have been right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—can't see your face," whispered Maggy -fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not turned from you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Maggy unburdened her soul. A flood -of unreserved words broke from her. Mrs. Lambert -neither moved nor spoke, but the grasp of -her hand tightened as the poignant story culminated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I daren't let myself think about it," Maggy's -faltering voice went on. "If I think too much -my brain begins to rock, and I'm afraid. It's -wonderful and awful and I don't feel the same. -The other day I saw a woman in the street. She -had such a pretty baby in her arms. It was too -heavy for her to carry, and she looked dead tired, -but I could see by her face how she loved it, weight -and all, and I had to hold on to myself to stop -from screaming out, 'You're lucky. You can -keep yours. I—'" Something she dimly -discerned in Mrs. Lambert's face brought her to a -sudden stop. "Why, I've made you cry!" she -said contritely. "What a brute I am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no. Don't take your hand away," was -the soft rejoinder. "You poor child! My heart -aches for you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Maggy re-entered the drawing room her -eyes were suspiciously red. She seemed anxious -to get away. She put her arms round Alexandra -and hugged her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by, Lexie," she said breathlessly. -"Don't forget me. The best of luck. Mrs. Lambert's -an angel. T-tell her so—from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tore herself away, pulled down her veil, -and was gone, leaving Alexandra bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy stopped at a jeweler's on her way home. -Taking off her bracelet, she handed it to the man -behind the counter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't bother to tell me what it's worth. Just -say whether it's real or sham," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was sham.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dropped it into her bag and went out, with -a new pain gripping at her heart. She never wore -the bracelet again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After dinner that evening Woolf remarked its -absence. She had worn it ever since he had given -it to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's your bracelet?" he inquired. "I -hope you haven't left it about or had it stolen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred," she said, looking him steadily in the -eyes, "I found out quite by accident that it isn't -real. Wait a minute. Let me finish. You know -I don't care tuppence about the value of anything -you give me. It isn't the cost I think of. If -you'd given me a ring out of a penny cracker I -wouldn't have changed it for another from -somebody else a million times its value. But don't -sham to me. I—I can't bear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never told you they were real diamonds," -he rejoined in a nettled voice. "If I didn't say -they were paste you ought to have guessed it. -Anyhow, the bracelet cost me twenty pounds. -Genuine stones that size would have run to the -price of a damn good race horse." He gave her -a disparaging look. "Why, all in, you don't cost -me as much as one of the animals I've got in training."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words froze her. She stared at him in dumb agony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my heart!" she cried, with a sudden catch -at her breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat still, coldly indifferent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I've given it to you!" she presently whispered.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xx"><span class="large">XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra's longing to act, to appear -before an impartial audience in a play -reflecting every-day life, was at last -satisfied when the tour began. Her part was a very -small one, that of a parlormaid only, but it did -not prevent her going through the usual phases -of stage fright at the first performance. On the -second night she was calm and collected. At the -end of a week it surprised her to find that she was -no longer under the spell of theatricalism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she joined the company in the ordinary -way the glamour of the stage would have got hold -of her and remained with her for a long time. -As an insignificant member of it, out of touch with -its leading light, she would have imagined -mysteries where none existed. But from the very first -all these so-called mysteries were exposed. She -was like the assistant to the conjuror: she saw how -things were done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the first place, Mrs. Lambert did not pose as -any high-priestess of the drama: she was rather -contemptuous of the stage. She thought of it as -a way to make an easy living, that was all. -Alexandra's notions about the stage were all associated -with Art: Mrs. Lambert's were confined to figures. -She and her manager talked business unexcitedly -for an hour every day, never esthetics. She was -mildly amused when Alexandra showed her -enthusiasm for acting, as she did in that first week.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll get over it, my dear," she said. "It's -not an art, merely a matter of temperament. If -acting were creative one could take it seriously, -but it isn't. The author creates; the actor only -represents. When I'm acting I often feel like the -inside of a moving picture show. It's all mechanical."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," said Alexandra, "you weren't always -like that? When you first went on the stage—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I felt as you do, all emotion and inexperience. -Now that I've lived and am disillusioned I -know that the stage is only a business, and not a -very edifying one. The public don't see that side -of it, fortunately. They think only of the -amusement it provides. If they would stop there it -wouldn't matter: but they have such a mania for -everything theatrical in this country, such a -desire to penetrate beyond the footlights, that they -quite forget the necessity for a curtain between -the make-believe of the stage and themselves. -They're like a child with a toy. They want to see -the inside mechanism, and directly they do they -suffer the usual disappointment. I never take -people 'behind'; if I do I always find they never -again want to pay for a seat 'in front.' We're -only shop-keepers, after all, and shop-keepers don't -invite their customers behind the counter, any -more than the customers are in the habit of asking -their butcher or their baker to dinner. Somehow -you can't get the public to see things like that. -Instead of keeping members of the stage at a -distance, treating them like kennel-dogs, they invite -them to their houses and pamper them. It makes -them more conceited and self-sufficient than they -are already. I don't deny that a few actors and -actresses are decently born and bred, indoor dogs, -so to speak, knowing their manners; but that's no -reason why the whole pack should be made free of -the public's drawing rooms.... Let us walk up -to the cathedral and spend a quiet hour there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tour had opened in a small cathedral town, -and the three hours spent at the theater each night -hardly counted in their daily round. They -motored about the surrounding country, or read, -talked and did needlework in the private sitting -room of their quiet hotel. Such a life, placid and -yet full of pleasant occupation, was delightful to -Alexandra. She found the weekly change from -town to town exhilarating, and the journey each -Sunday in Mrs. Lambert's comfortable landaulette -a luxurious mode of traveling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the end of their first week Chalfont came -down and remained with them for the rest of the -tour. Both he and Mrs. Lambert treated -Alexandra on terms of equality so that she never felt -an intruder on their intimacy. Before her they -made no secret of their attachment, but she never -regarded it as anything more close than what might -exist between old and tried friends. Sometimes -she detected in Mrs. Lambert quite a sisterly -attitude toward Lord Chalfont. That was probably -accounted for by the differences in their ages, -she being a few years the elder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont often asked after Maggy. He had -quite an open admiration for her, which -Mrs. Lambert shared. But, unlike him, she seldom -asked for news of her. At the time, Alexandra -did not notice this apparent lack of interest. She -was not able to impart anything about Maggy for -the simple reason that she had not heard from her. -Only twice during the early days of the tour had -there been a letter from her. After that, -although Alexandra repeatedly wrote, she got no -reply. She could not help wondering at this -silence. It was not like Maggy. Later, when -she spoke of it to Mrs. Lambert, the latter did not -seem surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're sure to hear from her soon. She may -be away," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And a letter did arrive from Maggy shortly -afterwards. It was written in pencil and strangely -shaky, quite unlike her habitual hand, which -although childish, was remarkably firm. She said -very little, confirmed Mrs. Lambert's prophecy by -admitting that she had been away for a change, -owing to which she had not received Alexandra's -letters until her return. She ended with a -postscript which had evidently been added in a burst -of feeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love Fred more than ever, Lexie. I couldn't -exist without him. He has been such a dear since -I got back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra passed it across the breakfast table -to Mrs. Lambert, with the remark:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's from Maggy. She doesn't say what has -been the matter with her, though."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Has your friend been ill?" he asked with -concern. "I'm sorry to hear that. We must send -her some flowers, Ada."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we will," Mrs. Lambert concurred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After breakfast he went out to buy some. -When he came back Mrs. Lambert was alone in -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What beauties!" she said, lifting the lid of -the box he had brought in with him. "Catherine -Mermets."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hung over the roses, the bitter-sweet of the -memories they evoked coming up to her with their -delicate fragrance. Chalfont always bought her -Catherine Mermets when they were in bloom, -great masses of them; but it was Hugh Lambert -who had first given her a bunch of three, -purchased at a street corner at sixpence each in the -days when sixpences were scarce with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I got them because they are your favorites," -he said. "I thought she would be sure to like -what you like. Anyway, what's good enough for -you is good enough for anybody."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her arm over his shoulder and kissed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're always so thoughtful, and so loyal," -she said. "I'm getting old and you remain -steadfast. It seems such an irony of fate that I can't -love you as you deserve. Although Hugh has no -claim on my feelings or my memory, I can't forget -him. I give you so little, Leonard. One day, -perhaps, some girl will love you worthily, and -make up for my meanness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled down at her, shaking his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep those roses," he said. "I'll get Miss -Delamere some more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, I want her to have them. Put your -card in. Shall I write the address?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Woolf was with Maggy when the post brought -her the roses. He cut the string and stood -looking on while she removed the tissue wrappings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, roses!" she cried delightedly. "Who -can have sent them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had traveled as well as could be expected -of cut flowers, but they were flagging a little for -want of water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf pounced on the card that accompanied them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Lord Chalfont,'" he read, and scowled at -the club address in the corner. "Damn his -impudence sending you flowers! And how the devil -does he know your address?" he demanded angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was perturbed at this outburst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't mind, Fred," she said placably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you tell him where you lived?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course not. You needn't go back to that. -You said you'd forgiven me for going to lunch -with Mrs. Lambert that day. You know I met -him there, and that's all there is in it. He must -have known that I—I hadn't been well—through -Lexie, and sent the flowers out of politeness." She -turned the lid of the box up. "The -address is in a woman's hand: Mrs. Lambert's. -There's nothing to look so furious about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fact that flowers should come to Maggy -from a comparative stranger would not, of itself, -have irritated Woolf. She often received flowers -now, and from men she had never met. Her good -looks and prominence at the Pall Mall accounted -for this. Woolf made no objection. The -admiration of other men for her rather enhanced -her desirability in his eyes. He took it as a tribute -to his own good taste in having secured possession -of her. But Chalfont's name affected him in much -the same manner as a red rag does a bull. It -blinded him with rage because it stood for -everything that he himself was devoid of—birth, -breeding, nobility of nature—and, moreover, -because it was that of the man who had humbled him -by having him turned out of the select club to -which he aspired to membership. That incident -had touched Woolf on the raw. It was much as -if he had been told that he was unworthy of -association with gentlemen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He picked up the roses and pitched them into -the fireplace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damned cheek, sending you a few pennyworth -of dead flowers!" he flared out. "I'll go and -buy you some live ones!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy did not protest. She had learnt -discretion with Woolf. He flung out of the flat. -Half-an-hour later a messenger boy came with a -magnificent bouquet of freshly-cut Catherine Mermets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was so happy arranging them.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxi"><span class="large">XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In spite of the pleasant conditions under which -the tour proceeded it began to be evident to -Alexandra that Mrs. Lambert was suffering -from acute nervous strain. She would spend -hours on the sofa in thoughtful silence. -Conversely, she showed undue vivacity on the stage at -night. Sometimes she evinced an almost feverish -interest in the financial side of her tour, growing -depressed when business was indifferent and -unduly elated when it was extra good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During this period Alexandra learnt for the -first time that Mrs. Lambert had a daughter. -Inconsequently enough, as it seemed to her, -Mrs. Lambert's reference to the fact was the outcome -of a talk between them one day concerning Maggy. -It showed the elder woman in a new aspect, -strongly maternal in her feelings. The child's -absence evidently distressed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you have her with you?" was the -natural inquiry that rose to Alexandra's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reply to this was as spontaneous as the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would love to! But how could I? Baba -is ten. There's Chalfont.... Children are so -quick to notice things...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra's puzzled look showed that she -placed a very innocent construction on the intimacy -of these two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't think we were only friends?" -Mrs. Lambert inquired a little reluctantly. "It's -not so. I supposed you knew."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The admission did not actually shock Alexandra, -but it pained her. She found it difficult to -associate Mrs. Lambert with any form of liaison. -Lord Chalfont, moreover, had also given her the -impression of being a man averse from it. That -these two, in Alexandra's estimation so free from -the taint of theatrical libertinism, should not have -been superior to circumstances was singularly -disconcerting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did think you were only friends," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice was so full of disappointment that -Mrs. Lambert half-regretted her frankness. She -knew Alexandra to be a very pure-minded girl. -She felt she owed her an explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friendship as you understand it is difficult, -almost impossible, between a man and woman in -circumstances like ours," she said. "Lord Chalfont -has remained unmarried on my account. I think -you must know that my husband and I are -separated. Well, a woman is a very lone creature -without love and sympathy. There are so many -things she cannot do for herself. If there were -nothing else there would always be the difficulty -of business. I have to work for Baba's sake. I -couldn't do it alone. I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> leave her independent -of the stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so sorry," was all Alexandra could say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you are. My dear, when I was your -age, like you I was full of regrets for all the -wrongs of the world. I wanted it perfect and -morally rigid. I meant to show that an actress -could still be a lady and quite virtuous. I don't -think I've disproved the one, but the Fates have -been too strong for me to fulfill the second -qualification. I had to separate from my husband. I -did not want to. I loved him. I have nothing to -reproach myself with for the rupture between us. -But for that I should always have been a faithful -wife. I only thought of his career. I used to -fight all his battles, on and off the stage. At one -time I did all his business for him because he hated -it. In those days he wasn't spoilt. He was just -a fascinating, childish person with all the -sensitiveness of an artistic temperament. He was -very fond of me, too.... Then came the time -when he went into management, and there was no -part for me. I was not to play "lead" with him -because he considered me unsuited to it. I was -too proud to play a smaller part in his own -theater.... He engaged Mary Mantel. In -that play their love-making brought down the -house. It was so real. It </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> real. I found -that out very soon. Mary Mantel deliberately -took my husband from me. He was too weak to -resist her—to resist pleasing any pretty woman.... -I told them both what I knew ... and we -parted. If I hadn't discovered what I did, or -suppressed my knowledge of it, I don't doubt -but that he would be with me now, behaving as a -lover to two women! ... For years Lord -Chalfont went about with me. We were friends, -nothing more. I always hoped Hugh would -make atonement and want me back. But I lost -heart, and Chalfont was always there, so patient -and kind.... As a Catholic I couldn't bring -myself to divorce Hugh and marry him, and I thought -that if he should ever get tired of me I should -like him to feel free.... Because I am an -actress, to whom all things are forgiven, the voice -of social ostracism had never been raised against -our union.... That is the whole story. Well, -what do you think of me now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra did not know what to think, still -less to say. The only comment she felt capable -of making was that Mrs. Lambert was not -degraded by what she had done. That was evident. -Alexandra did not make the comparison, but all -the same she dimly comprehended that there was -a certain similarity between Maggy's case and -Mrs. Lambert's. It had never occurred to -Alexandra that Maggy was degraded either.... -Quite suddenly, like a revelation, the reason of -the sympathy between these two, now her closest -friends, dawned on her.... Insensibly too, -because she was not thinking of herself, her own -resistance to frailty seemed to weaken. There -was to come a time when she would recall every -word Maggy and Mrs. Lambert had spoken on -the subject of sex conflict and the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think none the less of you," she answered -steadily after a long pause. "I suppose you are -being more true to yourself in not divorcing your -husband and marrying Lord Chalfont."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. I'm not sure that I've done -right. But the stage makes it so easy for you to -do wrong, to choose the way your inclinations -lead.... Chalfont has been the greater sufferer. -He hates to think that our relationship, when -discussed, is bracketed with the usual run of light -and unholy compacts. I confess to being more -thick-skinned. The stage blunts one's finer -feelings, I suppose. There's something dreadfully -insidious about it. Its lax atmosphere saps the -sense of rectitude. You don't know that your -views are gradually altering until you suddenly -discover that, like everybody else on it, you are -about to make its customs fit your own -circumstances. Nobody on the stage is free from that -taint: chorus girls are not a bit more frail than -highly-paid actresses. Chorus girls are more -flagrant, that is all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra was looking very serious and dismayed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's rather terrible," she said reflectively. -"Maggy has often said much the same thing in a -different way. Is </span><em class="italics">everything</em><span> wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a girl like you, yes. I don't assert that -everything and everybody on the stage is bad. -There are exceptions, of course. Clouds have -their silver lining. What I do maintain is that -the stage is not and never can be a profession that -a nice-minded girl can adopt and expect to -remain untainted by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder"—Alexandra's voice was almost -fearful—"what my own ideas about it will be -in a few years' time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a few years' time, my dear girl, with luck -you will be married and have forgotten all its -ugliness. You may perhaps still be sufficiently -enamored of the theater to let your husband -sometimes pay for two stalls; and sometimes when -you pass a struggling actress in the street you will -recognize her by her stamp and thank God that -you're out of it all. That's the best that can -happen to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you? You wouldn't like to be out of -it—altogether?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert's eyes seemed to hold some happy secret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I look forward to the day when I shall be—resting," -she made answer. "Have you ever -tried to wind a ball of thread with the skein in -your hand? It isn't easy. My skein is tangled -... and I am tired."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxii"><span class="large">XXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They were at Eastbourne during the -following week. One morning whilst in her -bedroom putting on her hat in readiness -for a walk Alexandra was startled by an -impetuous knock at her door. Chalfont's voice, -calling her by name, took her hurriedly to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please go to Ada at once," he said. "She's -ill. She can't act to-night. I have to see her -manager and telephone to London for her doctor. -You'll look after her while I'm gone, won't you?" -he added with deep solicitude as he hastened off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra went quickly to Mrs. Lambert's -room. She was greatly concerned by Chalfont's -bad news, but far less unprepared for it than -he had been. On the previous night Mrs. Lambert -had almost collapsed in her dressing room, -though she had made light of it and had forbidden -Alexandra to say anything about it to Chalfont. -Now she was worse, just recovering from the -dead faint in which she had been found. She -looked exceedingly ill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be frightened," she said in a weak -voice. "I know perfectly well what is the matter -with me. I'm afraid it means an untimely end to -the tour, though. You won't leave me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course not," Alexandra promised. "You -mustn't worry about the tour, or anything. You -want a rest. You'll be quite strong again soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert smiled faintly. "I told you I -looked forward to resting. I meant it in its -eternal sense. Six months ago I knew what was -in store for me, but I meant to stand out this tour, -if I could. I'm afraid they'll try and persuade -me to have an operation.... Just an outside -chance of living.... Oh, my dear, I would so -like to die quietly without being cut about and -pried into."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tears came into Alexandra's eyes. Illness -she was prepared for, but not the thought of -death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, please, don't talk like that," she said -unsteadily. "Heaps of people who are very ill -get better. Let me undress you. Then I'll sit -by you. But I don't think you ought to talk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert was very passive. When Alexandra -had undressed her she lay for a little in -silence. Suddenly she said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember I'm a Catholic.... See that I -have a priest at the last ... if it comes to that. -And—I must say this, don't stop me—if—it's -necessary—afterwards—I would like you to -write to my husband and tell him I sent my love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I promise," murmured Alexandra huskily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Lambert turned on her pillow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Baba will be all right, I think," she whispered, -and fell asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was awake again and quite cheery when -the doctor, a noted specialist, arrived during the -late afternoon. He was a long time with her -and also a long time with Chalfont afterwards. -The result of that conference was that the latter -came to Alexandra and told her that an immediate -operation had been decided on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow?" she asked fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The weakening effect of suspense made her -shrink from the imminence of the ordeal, although -it was not she who was to endure it. Deep -distress was in Chalfont's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, to-night," he said brokenly. "She -wouldn't consent at first.... When Sir James -told me that delay was dangerous I had to—to -advise her to undergo it." He could hardly get -the words out. "There isn't time to move her. -The hotel people have been very decent about it. -I have just seen the manager.... Two nurses -are coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra could only stand and struggle with -her voice. Her feelings were beyond expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid—terribly afraid we have to face -losing her," said Chalfont at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope not," she said fervently, while -the tears streamed down her face. "Is there -anything I can do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, there is." What he had to say cost him -a struggle. "Her husband ought to know. He -ought to be here. I doubt whether a telegram -would be any use, and I can't go to him. Will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll do anything," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. I'll have the car round at once -then." He looked at his watch. "It's six now. -You can be in town by a little after eight. You'll -catch him at the theater. Try and bring him -back with you. It—the operation—will be over -by that time. We shall know—one way or the -other. You would like to see her before you start?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please." Alexandra was very white, but she -was quiet now that she knew the worst and had -not to await in inactivity. "She told me she -would like a priest," she said. "I think you -should send for one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have already."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took a step toward the door but turned -suddenly and without speaking put her hand out. -He grasped and held it tightly, taking comfort -from the action.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll do your best, I know," he said gratefully.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxiii"><span class="large">XXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra said nothing to Mrs. Lambert -of her impending errand. Discretion -counseled silence about it. From -what she had heard of Hugh Lambert, and -judging also by Chalfont's doubts, unexpressed though -they were, whether he would respond to the -obligation imposed on him, she was dreadfully afraid -that she might not be successful. Still, she could -do nothing by remaining in the hotel, and in -going she was avoiding the purgatory of having to -sit in an adjoining room while the woman who -had been so good to her was in the toils of death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was half-past six when Chalfont saw her off -after bidding the chauffeur use the best speed the -car was capable of. The man, who was devoted -to his mistress, needed little incentive. Once -informed of her perilous condition his one thought -was to do his best for her by getting to his -destination without the loss of a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once out of the town he let his engine out. -Alexandra found herself leaning forward in the -car, involuntarily actuated by a desire to urge it -on still faster. At first her troubled mind could -not think coherently, but as the Panhard tore along -over the smooth tarred road northwards, the -monotony of its motion tended to abate her nervous -tension. She found herself reviewing the -incidents that had culminated in the present crisis. -They passed through her mind like a set of -moving pictures, the hum of the engine accentuating -the illusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw herself at home, alone, bereft of the -mother with whom she had happily spent so many -years in the small and placid provincial town that -was like a harbor of refuge to superannuated -Anglo-Indians; her departure from it under the -eyes of a sceptical circle of friends, suspect -because she had elected to choose so unconventional -a way of life as the stage; flitting shadows of -herself in London looking for employment; the -unpleasant picture of a boarding-house; the still more -unpleasant incident that had caused her to leave -it; then the somber picture of the Pall Mall stage -and Maggy. The screen of her mind threw -things up clearly now. The perspective of time -robbed the little room in Sidey Street of its -uninviting aspect, and her life there of its -straitened circumstances. Maggy's desertion of her -was the one sad feature of that picture. The reel -of experience became vivid again as it showed her -in happy companionship with the actress. Pleasant -scenes and cheerful incidents characterized it, -obliterating from her mind the troublous past. -Then, close on the heels of this state of content -came the unexpected shock of present happenings. -From being a spectator of the introspective drama -she came to herself, startled by the abrupt -consciousness of personal participation in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pale face and luminous eyes of the sick -woman filled her thoughts; the odor of drugs that -permeated the room in which she had left her -seemed to fill her nostrils. She thought too of -Chalfont and the self-denying motives that had -prompted him to send for the one man he could -least wish to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was dark inside the car now, but the lit streets -and the turmoil of traffic through which it was -threading its way meant that she had reached -London.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>London again! She no longer felt about it as -she had in the days when she was new to it. The -novelty of it had worn off. She had seen its -seamy side, lived on the verge of its submerged -life, been up against the brunt of it. Repugnance -to it filled her when she remembered, as she -suddenly did, that before many days had elapsed -she would probably have to return to it. She -found herself shrinking at the prospect of going -back to the conditions that wore one down and -sapped one's power of resistance in the unequal -fight for a living there, from having to resume -the weary round once more among the agencies; -the interminable suspense in stuffy waiting rooms -among the loquacious crowd of out-of-works. It -all came back so vividly: her soul sickened of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew that if Mrs. Lambert should recover -she would stand by her. She had said as much. -But if she died.... The unhappy speculation -was not induced by selfishness. The next moment -Alexandra's thoughts were solely concerned with -Mrs. Lambert's personal peril. They made her -forget her own fears. She tried to pray for her. -It seemed incongruous to pray in Piccadilly, where -the car was slowly threading its way among the -traffic. Still, surely God could and would hear -her in spite of the din made by the motor-buses!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were close to Lambert's theater now.... -Another few minutes.... The piece would be -half over.... The car turned down a side street -and stopped at the stage door. Alexandra got -out. There was the usual difficulty with the -stage-door keeper about admittance. He did not know -her. She mentioned Mrs. Lambert's name. That -stirred him even less. His attitude toward the -last-named was that of the hireling inspired by -the master. No </span><em class="italics">Mrs.</em><span> Lambert existed for him. -Indeed, the importation of her name struck him -as the ruse of a stage-struck damsel. They were -always inventing dodges to get past him and make -him lose his job. Ten precious minutes passed -in futile argument. Even in an urgent case like -this, vital to Lambert himself, the absurd -inaccessibility of the successful actor toward any one -of the outside world was borne in on Alexandra -with exaggerated force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll wait here until Mr. Lambert leaves the -theater," she said at last. "And I think I can -promise you that you'll lose your place when he -hears that you refused to take up my card."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her indignation and her threat were too real -to be ignored. They influenced the man's manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, chuck it over," he said grudgingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She handed it to him. In addition to her name -it bore the words "Mrs. Hugh Lambert's -Company." She had already penciled on it a line -meant for Lambert's own eye. The man went -off grumbling. When he returned his arrogance -had entirely disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The governor will see you," he said. "Up -the stairs and the first door on the right." Then -he added insinuatingly: "Sorry to keep you -waiting, miss; but I get it that hot if I let anybody -pass who's wanting an engagement."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was indifferent to his regrets. All she -wanted was to see Lambert and take him back -with her. She passed in, hurried up the stairs, -where at the top his dressing-room door stood open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lambert was playing in a costume piece, a -mid-Georgian comedy that owed a great deal of its -inspiration to Sheridan. In it he appeared as a -beau of that elegant period, and as Alexandra on -entering saw him she could but admit that he -looked the part. Dressed in gorgeous brocade -through which a dainty sword-hilt protruded, -immaculately bewigged, lace-ruffled and overpoweringly -scented, as she discovered on nearing him, -he gave her the impression of extreme elegance, -tempered by foppishness and effeminacy. He was -sitting before the mirror on his dressing-table, -leaning toward it, adding a deeper pencil mark -to his eyebrows. When he had done that to his -satisfaction he picked up a stick of carmine and -deliberately touched up the curve of his lips -before turning round to face his visitor. Alexandra -had always felt an instinctive dislike of make-up -on a man's face, though she recognized it as -essential to the stage. But Lambert's attitude -before the mirror was so affected, so vain that he -instantly inspired her with contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You come from my wife?" he asked, and she -thought she detected a note of dismay in his -fine-toned voice. "Did she send you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she answered. "But I want you to -come down to her at once. She is very ill. I -motored up so as not to lose a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave a slightly startled movement at her -news. It was as though he shrank from hearing it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "Where is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At Eastbourne."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is—is it serious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very serious. They—" the words stuck in -her throat—"they are operating now. She -wished to see you. She was talking of you to -me this morning—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was interrupted by the entrance of a third -person, a woman who came in without knocking, -a woman, pretty beneath her paint, with curiously -hard blue eyes. She stared at Alexandra with -open hostility and then looked interrogatively at -Lambert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This lady has come up from Eastbourne," he -hesitated. "My wife is ill and wants to see me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a momentary silence the newcomer -allowed herself a trifling shrug of the shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has been ill before," she said a little -contemptuously, and turned to Alexandra. "What -is it this time? A bilious attack?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra looked at her steadily, perhaps -disdainfully. She guessed she had to do with Mary -Mantel, the woman who had displaced Mrs. Lambert -in her husband's affections.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We fear she is dying," was her rejoinder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other woman laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I see! Advertising her 'farewell to the -stage.' I daresay she will take her time over it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lambert turned on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be quiet!" he exclaimed irritably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she shrugged. "It's our call directly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't help that. MacBride must go on for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He picked up a towel and was about to remove -the grease paint from his face, but stopped at the -ejaculation that broke from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't possibly go to-night," she burst out. -"Evidently these people"—she made an impatient -gesture that indicated Alexandra—"don't -know that it's the last night of your season, and -that you're booked to leave for America in three -days' time. Or probably they don't care. To -think of throwing up your part at a moment's -notice and letting the curtain come down in your -absence is madness. You must stop for your -speech. If you want to you can go first thing -to-morrow, though you'll probably have a wire by -then to say your wife's better and won't see you -for worlds!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A boy put his head in at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your call, sir," he announced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lambert got up, the towel still in his hand, the -paint still on his face. Alexandra watched the -indecision in it. Had he enough strength of mind -to come? Or would he let self-interest prevail?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hugh, do be guided by me," begged Miss -Mantel. "Think of your career. There will be -call on call for you at the end of the show. The -house is full of pressmen. Are you going to -throw away hundreds of pounds' worth of -gratuitous advertisement?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That last argument decided him. Publicity, the -acclamation of the crowd, the opportunity to pose -before it, to deliver the carefully-prepared speech, -egotistical yet full of sham humility, were -temptations he was unable to resist. With a quiver of -his painted lips that owed nothing to solicitude for -a wife who lay between life and death, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll come in the morning;" and without looking -at Alexandra, made for the stage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard the thunder of applause that greeted -him. To the little tin gods the plaudits of the -multitude are as the music of the spheres.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxiv"><span class="large">XXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was verging on midnight when Chalfont -came out of the sick room to hear the result -of Alexandra's errand. The moment he saw -that she was alone, limp and tired from her -journey, he knew it had failed. He had had the -forethought to have some cold supper ready for her, -and while she ate a little of it and drank the glass -of champagne which he insisted on her taking, he -answered her many questions about Mrs. Lambert. -In tones of sad resignation he told her that the -operation had been successful but that there was -little hope. She had taken the anesthetic badly -and was still under its influence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Lambert wouldn't come?" he asked, when -the painful subject was exhausted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe he was willing to come," she replied. -"I saw him alone first. But Miss Mantel came -in and dissuaded him. It was a last night. He -had to make a speech. She urged him to stay. -He's very weak, I think. He said he would come -in the morning. Can I go to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better not. The nurse will let us know when -she is conscious. It oughtn't to be long now. -Lie down on the sofa and try to sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was too anxious for that, so they sat waiting, -for hours as it seemed. Now and again they -talked, but most of the time absorbed and troubled -thought held them silent. No sound came from -the next room. Presently its quiet was broken by -the monotonous drone of a man's voice. Alexandra -sat up, listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The priest. He's with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twice they heard a faint murmur mingled with -a low intoning. Another half-hour passed. Then -the priest came noiselessly into the room. He -drew Chalfont on one side and they spoke together -in whispers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the latter beckoned to Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," he said; and the three went into the -sick room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A light, carefully screened, threw the bed in -shadow, but not sufficiently to hide the still form -that lay upon it. Although the pallor of death -was in Mrs. Lambert's face, it seemed to have -grown youthful. She looked like a child asleep. -Her eyes were closed. They could not tell -whether she was aware of their presence or not. -The priest stood at the foot of the bed lost in -prayer. The nurses, still and white like statues, -watched from a distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont, kneeling with a hand laid gently on -that of the woman he loved, broke the long silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak to us," he implored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard his voice and opened her eyes. They -had a spectral look, and as she turned them from -him to Alexandra an expression of concern crept -into her face. She murmured something faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your husband will be here in the morning, -dearest," he said softly but distinctly, trying to -stimulate her to consciousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some weighty thought was affecting her mind. -Her eyes were on Chalfont. She seemed to be -making an effort to say something.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That poor girl ... that nice girl..."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont bent low, fearful of losing the whispered words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What poor girl, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They thought she said "Maggy."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lambert arrived at six the next morning. His -first concern was to explain breathlessly to -Alexandra that he had been detained ... a business -matter ... farewell supper.... She would -understand.... He had hardly had three hours' -sleep before starting. Chalfont and Alexandra -could not help exchanging an outraged glance. -When she told him that he had come too late -his weak mouth opened in surprise. Then his -features worked unpleasantly. He stood stupidly, -looking as though he were about to burst into -tears. Chalfont's tolerance was near its limit. -With a set face he indicated the closed door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In there," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lambert hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you not want to see her?" Chalfont's -voice was like steel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It only wanted the point-blank demand to -unnerve Lambert completely. He collapsed into a -chair. It would have been difficult to recognize -his huddled figure as that of the debonair -stage-gallant so familiar and so dear to a host of -infatuated theater-goers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you not want to see her?" Chalfont -repeated remorselessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lambert's face was lowered. When he looked -up cowardice transfigured it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I've never looked on death," he quavered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra, shocked beyond words, thought that -Chalfont would surely strike him. He stood over -him so long in a tense attitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God!" he at last exclaimed. "Can this -be a man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went to the door by which Lambert had -entered, opened it, and then drew aside as far as -he could to let the actor pass.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxv"><span class="large">XXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The London newspapers had not given -much of their space to Mrs. Lambert's -doings while she was alive. She did not -advertise in them. Besides, all their dramatic critics -were on speaking terms with Lambert, and even -dramatic critics have second-hand prejudices. But -now that Mrs. Lambert was dead she was accorded -the half-column of obituary notice to which actors -and actresses seem to have a prescriptive right. -Defunct millionaires and jam-makers get a little -less: British officers who die for their country -have to be satisfied with a couple of lines tucked -away among the Military Intelligence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The papers belauded the dead woman. They -recorded her dramatic successes with much detail. -They were fulsome concerning her virtues. Their -readers were left to imagine the feelings of her -bereaved and heart-broken husband, who at the -moment was sorting an auction-bridge hand in the -cardroom of a transatlantic liner. It was the -sort of pretentious gush that had always sickened -Mrs. Lambert when she read it about others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The funeral was largely attended by members -of the theatrical profession. Few of them knew -the deceased personally, but as the occasion -provided an opportunity for public exhibition and -incidentally for getting their names into the papers -they did not miss it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was not of these. Woolf had made -some engagement for her which he would not let -her break. But she sent a wreath. It was quite -unlike any of the others. Hers was composed of -autumn-tinted leaves and the last homely flowers -that one sees in cottage gardens. She purposely -wished to avoid the conventional effect aimed at -by the professional florist whose stiff made-to-order -wreath implies such indifference to death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra placed it at the head of the coffin. -Mary Mantel had also sent one, ordered before -she left for America with Lambert. But -Alexandra refused to take it in. Lambert's card was -inscribed "From your sorrowing husband." All -the newspapers dragged in those words with a -suitably unctuous comment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Late on the afternoon of the funeral Maggy -managed to evade Woolf and go to Albert Place, -thinking to find Alexandra there. The blinds had -not yet been drawn up, but the front door was -open. Feeling an aversion from disturbing the -silence of a house of mourning she went in without -ringing and ascended to the room Alexandra had -used. Finding it empty she came down and looked -into the drawing room. It was in the green gloom -of a closed jalousie and she thought it unoccupied. -In that room she had spent such a pleasant -half-hour with Lord Chalfont not so very long ago. -Since then, disaster had befallen its owner, and -she herself had been very near to death. The -three events seemed associated in her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was about to draw back when a movement -arrested her. At the far end she made out -Chalfont. He was sitting at an escritoire with his -head bent over it. After a moment of hesitation -she went up to him and timidly touched him -on the shoulder. Dazed by grief and with his -thoughts far away he did not at first recognize her. -Seeing how it was with him she gently said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm Maggy. I didn't mean to disturb you. -I was looking for Lexie.... Now that I'm here -I'd like to say how dreadfully sorry I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After he had thanked her there was a pause. -His ease had temporarily left him. Maggy felt -she was intruding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know where she has gone? Lexie, I -mean," she went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She wrote down her address." Chalfont -searched for and found it among the papers on -the escritoire. "109, Sidey Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then she's gone back. That's where we used -to live together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another silence. Then Chalfont said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you let me know if there is anything I -can do for her? Mrs. Lambert was very -interested in her—and yourself. Indeed—" here -he hesitated a little—"the last word she spoke -was your name. That is why I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The color came into Maggy's face. She did -not let him finish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did she—did she say anything else?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; only your name. She seemed to be -concerned about you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She knew all about me," she said in an -explanatory tone. "She was worried because I had -been ill, I expect. She was like that, I know.... -And she knew I—I wasn't married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her meaning was quite plain, as plain as the -wedding-ring on her ungloved hand. In her -honesty she thought the admission was due to -Chalfont after he had apprized her of Mrs. Lambert's -interest in her. His manner of doing so had -implied friendship. She did not want to accept that -under false pretenses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont was quick to appreciate her motive in -making the confession. If possible it raised her -in his estimation. But it filled him with a curious -sense of disappointment. In spite of the absence -of a legal bond between Mrs. Lambert and himself -he had a strong distaste for free alliances. He -had chafed against circumstances in his own case, -and he was far from sitting in judgment on -Maggy's. Still, he could not help the shock they -had on his feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't think I was that sort," she said, -guessing at what was in his mind. "Lexie's not, -but I'm different. I'm not a lady. It wasn't only -because I wanted clothes and jewelry, or because -I was hungry that—that it happened. I </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> -hate going without things. But it was because I -met a man who made me feel—like jelly. If -he'd had nothing a year I would have gone to the -devil with him just the same.... I'm telling you -all this to show you why we can't be friends, -although I know you're ever so kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can we not? Mrs. Lambert was your friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't think why." Tears came into her -eyes. "There aren't many women like her.... -You loved her, didn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I loved her very dearly. More than she -loved me. Though she loved me as much as I -deserved," he added quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she loved her husband. I know. I -think he must be a pig! ... Why do we love -things that are bad for us, and men that don't -care for us? ... You would have married her, -wouldn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was what I desired more than anything -else," he rejoined in a voice full of regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This unreserved talk did not strike either of -them as strange. Chalfont was usually sphynx-like -about his innermost feelings, but with Maggy -it seemed unnecessary to hide them. It did him -good to unburden his heart to her. Maggy not -only inspired confidence, she attracted it. It gave -her a double hold on sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She would have been 'my lady' then," she -said thoughtfully. "What a draw that would be -to a lot of women—the women who don't put -love first. It's when we love that we don't think -what we get by it.... If the Earl of the Scilly -Isles came crawling all the way from Scotland and -wanted me to marry him I wouldn't leave Woolf."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont lost sight of her amazing geography -in the surprise he felt at the name she mentioned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Woolf! What Woolf?" he stared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred Woolf," she said with a touch of pride. -"He owns the </span><em class="italics">Jockey's Weekly</em><span> and Primus cars. -You must have heard of Biretta, his racehorse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont was incapable of more than the -exclamation. He knew all about Woolf. Sudden -pity for Maggy took hold of him. He could not -run the man down; he could not tell her that -Woolf's name stank in the nostrils of decent-minded -men; that even the men who fraternized -with him took care to keep their womenfolk out of -his reach. He could not tell her of Woolf's shady -reputation on the turf, at the card table, and in the -city. He saw that it would be useless to do so, -and also cruel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've met him, haven't you?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've seen him at race-meetings and—and once -at a club to which I belong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. "Fred goes everywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont did not pursue the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must go now," said Maggy. "Good-by.... -Oh, I forgot to thank you for the roses." She -colored, remembering the fate they had suffered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you liked them. They were -Mrs. Lambert's favorites."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, were they? If I'd known that I would -have got some instead of the wreath I sent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a beautiful wreath—so simple. She -wouldn't have wished it altered if she could have -seen it. It didn't remind one of a funeral."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't want it to. I felt I couldn't just go -and give an order to a florist who grows flowers -on purpose for graves. I was up ever so early -this morning and motored into the country. The -dew was all over the hedges. That's where I got -the leaves from. And in the cottage gardens -wherever I saw the sort of flowers I'd have liked -some one to give me, whether I was dead or alive, -I stopped and asked the woman to pick me a few -for a wreath for a sweet lady. They were so -pleased to give them. Not one would take -payment. They were </span><em class="italics">given</em><span> flowers, given for love, -fresh and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She broke off, shy at having exhibited her -feelings. It saddened Chalfont to think of her in -association with such a man as Woolf. In spite -of it she was still something of a child, with a -child's pretty thoughts. But the next moment -her womanliness showed itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you going away?" she asked. "I would, -if I were a man and had lost all I loved I should -go away to places where I could kill something. -Wild places, where there's solitude and danger, -so that it would be quite sporting to keep alive.... -You'd come back feeling different ... and -perhaps marry some nice girl who would love you -and make up for all that's happened.... I think -Mrs. Lambert would wish that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke as if Mrs. Lambert were not so far away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What makes you say that?" he wondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because—because she told me things." Maggy -hesitated. "May I draw up the blinds -before I go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They pulled up the blinds together and let the -autumn sunshine into the room. Maggy threw -up one of the windows. They stood side by side -looking at the movement in the street. Around -a barrel organ a little way off children were -dancing. A man and a girl, looking into each other's -eyes, passed under the window. On the opposite -side a woman was wheeling a perambulator, -running every now and then so that the baby in it -screamed with delight. The roar of London's -traffic came from a distance. Maggy's eyes grew soft.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life goes on," she said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxvi"><span class="large">XXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The landlady of 109 Sidey Street opened -the door to Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goodness me!" were her first words. -"Whatever have you been doing to yourself, Miss -Delamere? You </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> thin!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had appendicitis," said Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell's face immediately indicated the -thirsty interest which people of her class take in -any form of illness. She closed the door carefully. -A hushed note came into her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Appendicitis! What did they find?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Latchkey and a bath mat," said Maggy solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell looked offended, also disappointed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a one you always were for jokes," she -complained. "I believe you'd joke in your coffin. -Talking of coffins—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you've not been talking of such things -to Miss Hersey," Maggy interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not talk about them? And she just come -back from a funeral! What else would </span><em class="italics">any one</em><span> -talk about? Not that </span><em class="italics">she</em><span> said much, mind you. -I only know there was a carriage-full of wreaths -besides what was in the hearse. I'll have to wait -for the rest of it in the Sunday paper. Miss -Hersey wouldn't say what the corpse looked like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell was wound up. Maggy knew that -the only way to avoid a repetition of the ghoulish -verbosity from which Alexandra must already have -suffered was to get away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is Miss Hersey?" she asked, beginning -to mount the stairs. "Same room?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; a shunter from King's Cross has that -now. Such a nice-spoken young feller. Miss -Hersey's in the room with the cistern. I'll bring -you up a nice cup of tea directly, dear. I won't -put it down in her bill," she whispered in a burst -of generosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upstairs in the room with the cistern the two -girls ran into one another's arms. But Maggy -was not to escape a repetition of the scrutiny that -Mrs. Bell had given her downstairs. After their -embrace Alexandra drew back and looked at her -with concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy!" she exclaimed. "Have you been -ill? There's nothing of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rubbish!" said Maggy. "It's all over, -anyway. I'm what they call </span><em class="italics">svelte</em><span> in the society -papers. I was all face and fatness before. Fred -says I'm a lady-like size now. It's the 'Willow' -corset. I'm in the </span><em class="italics">Ladies' Field</em><span> this week. Such -a sketch! Just a chemise and— But don't let's -talk about me. Lexie, I wanted to ask you -something. Mrs. Lambert wrote to me two or three -times, and I wrote to her. Do you know if she -tore the letters up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I found them. Lord Chalfont asked me to -look through a lot of her papers, and your letters -were there. They were marked in pencil -'Destroy.' I expect she meant to have done it, so I -tore them up myself. There were three letters -and a postcard. I couldn't help seeing what was -on the postcard—'All over, Maggy.' What did -you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under her paint and powder Maggy flushed a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that was—about my illness. Thank you -for destroying the letters, Lexie. There was -nothing in them I couldn't have told you, but they -were about things you'd rather not know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you have been ill?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rest cure, my dear. Forget it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not hurt because you wrote to her about -it instead of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You needn't be. Was it nice being with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra told her all about the tour. While -she talked Maggy began to notice a subtle change -in her. Her views seemed to have grown broader. -She appeared to be more tolerant of human -failings. Her old, hard attitude toward them had -disappeared. She showed this by the manner in -which she spoke of Mrs. Lambert and Chalfont. -It was entirely sympathetic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie, you're different," declared Maggy in -surprise when she had done. "You've come alive!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't feel quite the same," Alexandra -admitted. "I believe I'm—changing. I've been -trying to think things out, Maggy." There was -puzzledom in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What sort of things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Principally morals and—lack of morals.... -Not long ago I had everything neatly -labeled and pigeon-holed in my mind. Things -were either good or bad. People the same. Now -all the labels seem to have come off.... Really, -I'm not half so good as poor Mrs. Lambert was, -and yet she did what I always considered so wrong. -She lived with Lord Chalfont. The strange thing -is it didn't make either of them bad. They were -just like two married people who had the deepest -respect for each other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy gave a nod of comprehension. "And -that puzzles you?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, in a way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I know why. You're asking yourself -whether that sort of thing is really bad, after -all, since it didn't drag them down. You've got -the labels wrong, mixing up morals with people -and putting them all together in the honey-pot. -The stage, I mean. It's a contaminating place, -right enough. The wonder is how anybody gets -out of it clean. Some people can drink filthy -water and keep healthy, and others get typhoid from -it. It doesn't alter the water. What makes me -sorry is that nice people like Mrs. Lambert and -Lord Chalfont and you should have to drink it at -all. The worst of it is you can't tell whether it's -done you any harm until it's worked right into your -system, and then you're generally past help. That -rather proves that immorality is a sort of disease, -probably a microbe, which thrives especially on -the stage. What a pity they can't vaccinate us -against it when we're babies. It would have done -</span><em class="italics">me</em><span> good. </span><em class="italics">I'm</em><span> an example of the corruption of -the stage, if you're looking for one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're nothing of the kind, Maggy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I am. If I hadn't been on the stage -Fred wouldn't have thought I was easy fruit, and -I shouldn't have known what he wanted from the -start. I went over the line because I knew living -with him was all he expected, or I could expect. -I don't say I wouldn't rather be married and -respectable, but as I couldn't have Fred that way, -I've got to put up without it. Marriage and the -stage are like oil and vinegar. They don't mix. -Look at Mrs. Lambert and her husband. Look -at the girls who marry noblemen. Don't they -keep the divorce court busy? And you can't do -any good on the stage without a man at the back -of you. Make up your mind to that. You've -got to bury your conscience like a dog does a bone. -At first you keep on going back to it to see if it's -there, and one day you forget all about it, or you -find it's gone. That's the big difference between -you and the dog.... So you've come back to -this hole, Lexie. Do you think I don't know what -you feel about it? You're like Cinderella, only -you've been to the funeral of your fairy -god-mother. I suppose you'll hold out while your -money lasts, and then begin the old fight all over -again. But there won't be so much fight left in -you. You don't </span><em class="italics">feel</em><span> like fighting. You don't -feel the same. You said so, just now.... Lexie -dear, don't think of your old pal Maggy as a -she-devil taking you up on top of a mountain and -tempting you. But I do want you to make the -most of your chances. I honestly believe if you -take things as they come you won't be sorry. -You're sure to meet some nice man sometime. If -he's able to—to keep you, do give in. If you -love him you'll want to. And what's the use of -giving love the cold shoulder simply because he -doesn't always go about with a marriage license -in his pocket? If it's wrong to talk like that all -I can say is I'd rather love without marriage than -not love at all, even though I knew I was going -to be burnt to a cinder for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I'm asbestos—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All the better if you are: you'll stand it -better. Anyhow, asbestos gets hot.... Lexie, I -haven't a regret in the world. I was a bit down -on my luck before I was ill, but now I'm well -again, I'm glad that I'm Maggy who loves her Fred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra sat staring in front of her, turning -Maggy's advice over in her mind. She knew she -meant every word she said. She recalled -Mrs. Lambert's views about the stage. She had less -faith in her powers of endurance now. Privation -and disappointment had done their work. -In easy circumstances any one may withstand -temptation: surrender comes with adversity. At the -present moment Alexandra was not actually in -touch with adversity. She felt capable of holding -out against temptation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shan't give in," she said with a little of her -old tenacity. "I'm going to try and write."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" asked Maggy blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My experiences."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you haven't had any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and Mrs. Lambert and all that you both -have told me are experiences."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a new aspect of Alexandra. It mystified Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But can you write?" she asked doubtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I think so. At least I've made a beginning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems so funny. Fred says that actresses -can't write. All those things you see in the -magazines and the </span><em class="italics">Jockey's Weekly</em><span> by actresses all -about themselves, with photos stuck in between, -aren't written by them. The printer does it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not the printer, surely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the man from the paper. It's all the -same. I've been interviewed and I know. All I -did was to sign my name at the end. It came -out in </span><em class="italics">The Housewife</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I meant was a serious article. Something true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But nobody wants to read anything serious -about the stage," Maggy contended. "It's for -pleasure.... Fancy you writing! Do let me -see what you've done, Lexie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra went over to the chest of drawers -and came back with her article. It was in -manuscript. She handed it over shyly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's pages and pages!" exclaimed -Maggy, with the bewilderment of one to whom -the space on a postcard presents difficulties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She commenced to read aloud from it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'The stage as a profession for women has -frequently been a subject of discussion. Seldom -however has it occurred to any one to descant on -it as a profession for ladies...'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're always called </span><em class="italics">ladies</em><span> of the profession," -debated Maggy, and read on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'... To do this effectively one must first try -and arrive at the proper definition of the term -"lady," and when one has done so enquire into -the economic and moral effects which the stage -may have on her if she should embark on...'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy raised enquiring, rather helpless, eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does this mean you're a Suffragette?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, of course not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy skipped a paragraph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'A lady, we will say, is one who, apart from -the question of birth, has been brought up to -respect the usual conventions of social life. Let -us now consider how far those conventions are -respected on the stage.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she turned the pages, singling out portions -of them at random, she found it very hard -reading. She thought it like the leaders in the daily -paper, which she always skipped. In reality, it -was not a bad little article for a beginner, in spite -of its consciously correct phraseology and want of -cohesion of idea. But as an unglossed commentary -concerning the ethical side of stage life it -provided food for thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it's brainy," said Maggy, handing -it back. "It doesn't sound a bit like you though. -I hope I'm not a wet blanket, but I think you'll -get sick of the crumply plop it will make coming -back through the letter-box. It's not what you -ever see in the papers. You may ask things about -inferior flannelette or horrid sausages or white -slaves, and it's all right. But the truth about the -stage! Well, there, it's written now, so you may -as well post it; but if I were you, I'd go and see -the editor in the morning before he's had time to -read it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" enquired Alexandra innocently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well ... if he's young—and impressionable—it -might— No, on second thoughts, don't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tea came in. By the side of the teapot Mrs. Bell -had ostentatiously placed a small medicine bottle. -She had also provided what purported to be a cake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sent out for 'three' of gin," she said, -beaming placidly at the bottle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whatever for?" demanded Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a dash in your tea, dear. Seeing as how -you've just come from a funeral—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra's face showed a repugnance. Mrs. Bell -looked grieved. Maggy intervened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Hersey only drinks champagne now," -she said cheerily. "Doctor's orders. And I've -sworn off. You trot off with it downstairs. Gin's -good for landladies."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxvii"><span class="large">XXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra's bad luck held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The only engagements she was offered -she could not accept. One was in provincial -pantomime and therefore not immediate, -another a "walk-on" at a London theater, for -which a premium of £10 was asked. Suggestions -were made to her by doubtful-looking touring -managers which besides being only tentative were also -unwholesome. One agent made it impossible for -her to go and see him again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The soul-sickening chase after employment -continued for several weeks. By husbanding the -money she had saved while on tour with -Mrs. Lambert she was able to keep out of debt; but -time was against her. Soon she would be unable -to do without a fire in her room. Coals at -six-pence a scuttle sounded to her like extravagance -and were therefore prohibitive. She did not -think it likely she would be able to find a cheaper -lodging, or at any rate one where the landlady -was as honest as Mrs. Bell. In Sidey Street she -could at least make sure that if half a herring was -left over at breakfast the other half would be -available at supper time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell was also "particular" about sheets -and cleanliness generally. She took an open pride -in having a lodger who indulged in a daily bath. -The blush of modesty often came to Alexandra's -face as she heard the fact being exultantly -advertised on the stairs to some new or would-be -tenant. Her landlady used it as a testimonial. Once -a week, too, the little room with the cistern was -"done out," which meant that Mrs. Bell used a -duster for a motor-veil and threw the furniture -out on the landing. For these reasons 109 Sidey -Street was tolerable. The lodgers there were -respectable. True, the shunter from King's Cross -Station had the room overhead, but as he did not -import his boisterous occupation into domestic life -Alexandra found him unobjectionable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw a good deal of Maggy, but Maggy was -only able to offer advice and the use of her purse, -neither of which Alexandra would accept. It hurt -her to refuse. The advice she could not reconcile -with her conscience: the money, being Woolf's, -seemed tainted. All this while her one attempt -at literature had kept returning to her with -hopeless monotony. A month had elapsed since she -had last seen it. She had all but forgotten it -when a letter unexpectedly reached her, nebulously -signed "The Editor," requesting her to call at the -offices of his paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went there full of a natural excitement at -the prospect of hearing that her article was to be -printed. To her chagrin the Editor, otherwise -quite a pleasant person, disillusioned her on this -point.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's quite all right," he told her; "but I can't -use it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why did you send for me?" asked poor -Alexandra helplessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For one reason, because I saw you knew your -subject, and it struck me you might put your -knowledge to a more commercial use. My dear young -lady, there isn't a paper in England that would -print this as it stands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra had nothing to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's quite simple," he went on. "Papers live -by advertisement. The stage is one of their -sources of revenue. Besides, it doesn't pay to -vilify the stage. It's too popular. We have to -butter it up. Look at this," he flicked over the -pages of his popular weekly. "Full of photos -of stage beauties, with a eulogistic paragraph to -each. Many of them paid for. Well, we can't -publish a picture of, say, Miss Tottie Fluff on one -page and an indictment of her morals on the next. -Now can we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I suppose not," said Alexandra, vastly -impressed by this amiable frankness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you'll be guided by me you'll leave the -question of stage morality alone. The press, the -public and the profession all unite in a conspiracy -of silence about it. You're on the stage, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Generally off," said Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doing anything now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I wish I were."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, look here: why not write something -in a chatty way about theatrical matters? Take -the exact opposite view to what you have here. -Treat the stage sympathetically. Point out its -elevating influence on the masses. Sugar it all -up. And, I say, not twelve pages: a thousand -words or so. I'll give you thirty shillings for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra went back to Sidey Street and sat -down to try and write fulsome untruths about the -stage. She thought and thought. The ink dried -on her pen. Presently an idea came. She -commenced to write swiftly. When she had covered -two pages she stopped and read them over, realizing -what she was doing. For the paltry sum of -thirty shillings she, who recoiled from sacrificing -her body, was prostituting her pen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put it down and deliberately tore the sheets -into fragments, so small that she would not be -tempted to piece them together again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not for thirty pieces of silver!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxviii"><span class="large">XXVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The cistern, that prominent feature of -Alexandra's bedroom, was for once in a -way overshadowed. So to speak, it was -put out of countenance. If a cistern—squat, -square, and forbidding as this one was—could -have expressed itself it would have done so in the -form of a gasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For, on the bed lay the sable coat, muff and -toque and half-a-dozen unworn French frocks. -Such richness could never have been seen in Sidey -Street before. Alexandra's emotions as she stood -and stared at them were indescribable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had come—several huge cardboard -boxes—that afternoon—with a letter from a -firm of solicitors stating that the furs and the -dresses were a legacy from Mrs. Lambert. The -reason why they had not been delivered before -was that the executors of the will were ignorant -of Miss Hersey's whereabouts. Lord Chalfont -had, however, now returned to London and had -given them her address.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there they lay, beautiful and costly, in -startling contrast with the cistern and the other -unlovely appurtenances of the room. Alexandra -supposed the furs must be worth quite a hundred -pounds. The irony of the situation was not lost -upon her. Here she was in a fireless room, -dreadfully hungry, and there on the bed lay valuables -which nothing would induce her to sell because they -were a gift from the dear dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A day or two ago she had found herself regretting -the destruction of that sugary eulogy of the -stage. She had reconstructed it, but so unsuccessfully -that in the end she decided against posting -it. The editor in all probability would have -forgotten her existence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now late November and a particularly -cheerless specimen of the month. She was glad -to leave her fireless room each morning for the -warmth of the agents' offices, always hoping -against hope that something would turn up. -Pride made her hide her straitened circumstances -from Maggy. She still refused to borrow from -her friend. Maggy's counsel was always the -same: "Climb down, Lexie. Go back to De -Freyne. He'll very likely take you on again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put out a cold hand and touched the furs. -They were so rich, so soft; they signified the very -quintessence of warmth. All she had had for her -lunch that day was cold rice pudding—rice -pudding made with three parts of water to one of -milk. She felt as if she would never thaw again. -It was sheer desire for warmth that made her -suddenly discard her thin black serge for one of the -new acquisitions, a dark brown velvet dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Over it she slipped the fur coat. The warmth -of it was better than a fire. It permeated her, -sent a glow all through her chilled body. She -looked at herself as well as she was able in the -small mirror on her dressing-table and—thought -of De Freyne. De Freyne only wanted well-dressed -girls. She was well-dressed now. She -had enough frocks to keep her looking expensively -dressed for many months. She could not go -another week without an engagement. Her money -would not hold out longer than that. Even -supposing that De Freyne, following his usual custom, -should want to put her in the way of what he -termed "a chance," she need not necessarily avail -herself of it. It was sophistry and she knew it. -Allowing herself no more time for thought she put -on the toque, picked up the muff and went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A motorbus took her to the theater. There she -asked to see De Freyne, fearful lest he should -have forgotten her name. But De Freyne had -not forgotten it nor her. He saw her at once. -He remembered the circumstances under which -he had dismissed her, her inability to dress up to -his standard and her resolve to keep straight. -That had been too novel to slip his memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His jaded, practised eyes took in her changed -appearance, and priced her furs more accurately -than she had done. He knew they must have cost -a good many hundreds, and wondered who had -paid for them. But he made no comment and -asked no questions. He would hear all about it in -good time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come for a fresh contract?" was all he said. -"That's right."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra had not got back to Sidey Street when -Maggy knocked at her door. She looked very -fetching and contented in a gray squirrel coat, a -present from Woolf. She often contrasted her -lot with Alexandra's and felt uncomfortable when -she thought of all she had and all that her poor -proud Lexie went without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she heard that the latter was out she -decided to await her in her room. Mrs. Bell -accompanied her up to it. The first thing Maggy -noticed was the absence of a fire. The tidy grate -showed that it had not been lit that day. She -shivered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What time do you expect her in?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's sure to be back by half-past four," said -Mrs. Bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, hadn't you better light the fire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell pursed her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She don't like her room hot," she mumbled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense; it's freezing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A look, such as a person who is about to reveal -a State secret wears, came into the landlady's face. -She dropped her voice to a tone proper to confidences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To tell you the truth, Miss Delamere, I'm -sadly afraid the poor dear hasn't the money to pay -for a fire. I've lit a bit of a one sometimes on my -own, but coals is coals, and I've my living to make."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My goodness! You ought to have told me," -said Maggy accusingly. "You know I would -have paid for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I told her; but she wouldn't have -it. I don't like to think what'll be the end of her -going on like this. She's so different to any one -I ever come across. I've let rooms to ladies of -the profession for fifteen years. There was -Freddie Aragon. She left me to go off with a trick -bicyclist, and after that she took up with a baronet. -I forget the name. Then there was Cleo Kaydor -who got married to a jockey in church. She used -to come and see me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can smell something burning!" Maggy -broke in, and the tide of Mrs. Bell's reminiscences -was immediately stemmed. She clattered -downstairs to enquire into the false alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy lit the fire and settled herself before -it with a book which she found lying about. It -was one which failed to sustain her interest. -Gradually she dozed and ultimately dropped off -asleep. By the time Alexandra returned the fire -had burnt red, warming the room to a pleasant -and unaccustomed temperature. As she came in -Maggy woke up with a start, unable to believe the -sight that met her eyes. They went from the -sable coat and muff to the toque and back again. -Astonishment and the lovely effect they produced -on their wearer took her breath away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie!" she cried. "Where </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> you get -them? You look a princess! Is it—you don't -mean— Are—are you ruined?" she quaintly -stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra explained how she had come by the -furs. If Maggy had not been so intent on -Mrs. Lambert's legacy she would have noticed an odd -look in their wearer's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my dear, they're perfect!" she exclaimed. -"Real sable!" She clutched at the arm nearest -her. "Lexie, go and see De Freyne in them. -He'll think you've married Rockefeller—or ought to!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've just come from him," said Alexandra in a -weak voice. "He's taken me on again."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxix"><span class="large">XXIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>De Freyne was puzzled about Alexandra. -Her furs and her frocks baffled -him. When it transpired that she was -still living in Sidey Street she became more than -ever an enigma to him. He could not reconcile -that neighborhood with her new and expensive -appearance. Business instincts apart from curiosity -made him keep an eye on her. Some acquaintance -with the private affairs of his fair and usually frail -merchandise was sometimes of value to him. -Like a good tradesman it was his habit to take -stock of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One thing he could not reconcile with Alexandra's -apparent opulence: he never saw her lunching -or supping at the Savoy or similar places. Nor -did she appear to have a motor-car, that invariable -sign of private advancement. Not knowing what -to make of it he was reduced to detaining Maggy -on pretext of business one matinée afternoon and -sounding her about her friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way," he observed casually, after -mildly cautioning her against a want of punctuality -of which she had been guilty on the previous night. -"By the way, Miss Hersey seems to have come to -her senses at last. But why does her friend keep -in the background?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy saw that De Freyne took it for granted -that Alexandra had a man behind her. She also -knew that it would not be to her advantage to -correct the assumption. She even deemed it wise to -stimulate his imagination. It was easy to do that -with a mysterious smile and a knowing shake of -the head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a bit of a State secret," she said with just -the right amount of hesitation. "I oughtn't to -say anything about it. I—I've never seen his -Roy—him, I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne pricked up his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you know who he is? Some foreigner, -I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there wouldn't be any need for secrecy -about a foreigner," protested Maggy with wicked -plausibility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put a few more questions but she refused -to be drawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne was anything but gullible, but -Maggy's artfulness quite took him in. Her -hesitation alone was convincing proof that she knew -more than she would tell. She gleefully retailed -the conversation to Woolf later in the day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mischievous little devil!" he grinned, amused -by her audacity. "What does your precious -Lexie say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She doesn't say anything because I shan't tell -her. She'd probably go straight to De Freyne -and blab out the truth, which wouldn't do her any -good. He'll think more of her now. At any -rate he won't bother her with men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf grunted. He could never understand -why Maggy was always suggesting that though a -thing might be adequate to herself it was not of -necessity good enough for her friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was not far wrong about De Freyne's -subsequent attitude toward Alexandra. Nothing -was said, but all the same she began to receive -more consideration. De Freyne kept an open -eye on the stalls and boxes for any distinguished -personage who might be there on her account. On -two nights in succession one such happened to be -among the audience. This lent color to Maggy's -powers of invention. Alexandra was at once -promoted to the front row. When, a week later, a -young American Croesus made advances to De -Freyne for an introduction to the "tall, dark girl -on the extreme right," he was put off with airy -nonchalance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not the least use, my dear sir," said De -Freyne. "Between you and me, a certain royal -personage is in the way there. But have a look -at the filly next to her, to-night. She's only sixteen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne would not have felt flattered had he -been told that his methods differed little from -those of the astute tradesman who, not having a -particular article in stock, never hesitates to try -and palm off the nearest equivalent on his -customer. Meanwhile he was debating whether it -would not be wise to interpolate a small part for -Alexandra. The upshot was that he sent for her -and heard her sing. The quality of her voice -surprised him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn it, you know how!" he observed. -"Why didn't you tell us you could sing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sang at the voice trial," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then! You weren't sensible in those -days. I must see what I can do for you." He -turned to his stage-manager, who was present. -"'Phone Goss and Lander to come round. I -want to talk over a new song to be put in for Miss -Hersey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sudden stroke of luck quite confounded -Alexandra. Just as Maggy was unaware of the -far-reaching effects of her hints, so was she unable -to account for her preferment. She hardly dared -to believe it would materialize. But a couple of -days later her new song and the script of a few -lines of dialogue to introduce it were handed to -her. She was to have a week in which to rehearse them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne watched some of these rehearsals, -giving much mental consideration to the style of -costume best suited to the singer. In the end he -thought out a design in sprigged muslin, looped -with turquoise ribbon. It would have a refined -and childish effect. Refinement, homeopathically -prescribed, would by its contrast look well on the -stage of the Pall Mall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What De Freyne was not prepared for was an -expression of gratitude from Alexandra. After -her first rehearsal she sought him in his office. -He assumed that, after the manner of her kind, -she had come to ask for an increase of salary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, aren't you satisfied?" he enquired, -hoping to put her off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've come to thank you," was her shy answer. -"It's so kind of you, Mr. De Freyne. I'm very -grateful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was so unaccustomed to being thanked by -the members of his chorus, and so seldom deserved -any, that for a moment he was taken aback.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," he rejoined. "All I want -is that you don't show any nervousness. Audiences -only allow for nervousness on the first night -of a piece. After that it fidgets them. I'm going -to Lucille's for your dress. It's to be </span><em class="italics">à la jeune -fille</em><span>. No shocks to your modesty. As for the -rest, well, I daresay you'll introduce me to -H.R.H. one of these days, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was more a statement than a question, and -De Freyne did not wait for an answer. When -they met after the performance that night -Alexandra, rather bewildered, told Maggy of her -good fortune and De Freyne's curious remark. -Maggy's delight was such that she jumped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my dear!" she cried. "I'll tell you -now. First it was your furs and then it was me. -We've done the trick between us. But come away -from the theater or some one will hear me and then -all the fat will be in the fire!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dragged Alexandra away from the stage-door -and described her interview with De Freyne. -Alexandra listened petrified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy, how could you?" she protested -piteously. "I—I can't let him go on thinking -such a mad thing! I shall have to tell him it isn't true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't, mustn't, mustn't!" commanded -Maggy vehemently. "Don't you see it's good -for you? If you do he'll take away your song -and put that Vandaleur man on your track. He's -after little Graves now, but he let out to her that -he tried to get to know you, only De Freyne told -him he hadn't an earthly. Graves told me that -herself. And you don't want to get me the sack, -do you? After all, Lexie dear," she wheedled, -"I made it a royalty, didn't I? I didn't think -any one else good enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know you meant it for the best. But—but -it's such a horrid idea and so—so far-fetched. -De Freyne is sure to find out sooner or later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So long as it's later it's all right. You make -the most of it while he's dreaming of meeting -your prince and smoking a cigar with him in public, -and p'raps getting the order of the Boot in -diamonds to wear on his chest. It'll do him good to -be disappointed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra would not have been human had she -refused to listen to such reasoning. She might -have argued that De Freyne had recognized her -talent. But she very well knew that was not the -case. It was quite evident to her that had she -been without talent or voice he would have -commissioned Goss and Lander to write her a song -on two notes all the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll chance it, Maggy," she announced finally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right," said Maggy, greatly relieved, -and then became abstracted. "You ought to have -some diamonds to wear on the night," she added -presently. "I wish I knew an I.D.B."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxx"><span class="large">XXX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Diamonds for Alexandra had been no -random idea of Maggy's. The question -of how to provide them, or at least some -jewelry for her to wear on the great occasion, -continued to exercise her mind. She woke up full -of it the next morning. If they were to be -obtained, though only for one night, De Freyne -would be wonderfully and awfully impressed. -And Maggy was right. De Freyne's estimate of -a girl was largely influenced by the intrinsic value -of what she carried upon her person.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf could be of no help in this matter. He -very seldom cared to discuss Alexandra at all, -and considering that he had not shown any -inclination to supply Maggy herself with any jewelry -worth mentioning he was hardly likely to do more -for her friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a daring thought came into her head. -Alexandra had told her that Lord Chalfont was -back in London. Couldn't he do something? -Ever a slave to the enthusiasm of the moment, she -looked up Chalfont's address in the telephone -index and then drove there. Her heart went into -her mouth as she thought of what Woolf would -say if he knew where she was bound for. But -that did not stop her. She was one of Nature's -gamblers, and the element of danger in the -undertaking gave her a certain relish for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont was just going to sit down to his -breakfast—it was only half-past nine—when she was -announced. The earliness of her visit surprised -him, but he was none the less pleased to see her. -Many times during his absence he had recalled her -pretty face, her extraordinary gift of honest -frankness, and above all the sympathetic womanliness -she had shown at their last meeting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expect you think I'm mad coming to see you -so early in the morning," she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad to see you at any time," he said. -"Have you had breakfast?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I snatched it. I wanted to catch you in, and -I didn't want my Fred to know. He wouldn't -like me to be here. Of course, I shan't tell him, -because I've come in a good cause. Can you lend -me some diamonds?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a little staggered by the request. He -would have been prepared to swear that Maggy -was not of the grasping sort, and yet here she was, -admittedly against the regulations, blandly asking -him for diamonds at half-past nine in the morning. -He laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, I haven't had breakfast yet. It's -ready. Suppose you have it with me and tell me -why you want them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I? I should love it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rang the bell, and his man quickly laid -another place at the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sole, omelette, kidneys?" inquired Chalfont. -"You need not wait, Mitchell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Omelette, please," said Maggy, taking the -seat he offered her before the tea and coffee -equipage. "Coffee for you? And sugar?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came back from the sideboard where he had -gone to the electrically-heated stand, smiled as he -served her, and took the cup she handed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," he said, taking his seat, "I -seem to have the feeling that we've breakfasted before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So have I," she rejoined. "I like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your hat spoils the illusion, though."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of a woman in the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She unpinned it and tossed it on to a chair. -The reluctance that had made her retain it that -day so many months ago when she had lunched for -the first time with Woolf was quite absent now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what about the diamonds?" asked Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're not for me. I want them for Lexie. -But it must be a secret. She'd shake me if she -knew. She's back again at the Pall Mall now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to ask you about her. What is she -doing there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you all from the beginning," said -Maggy. "This omelette's splendid. It was -through her legacy. The furs and the dresses -poor Mrs. Lambert left her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Lexie had a hard time for weeks. She -couldn't get an engagement anywhere. So when -the furs came she togged herself out in them and -went and saw De Freyne. He took her on again -because he thought she'd got rich quick, and that -there was a man in it. He was awfully puzzled. -Instead of asking her he tried to pump me, and -I found myself telling stories." Her face screwed -up funnily. "Oh, I let him think! He fancies -it's a royalty—a prince—who's running Lexie, -and he's given her a part and a song on the -strength of it. It goes in three days from now. -It's an awfully big thing for her. I've persuaded -her not to split—not to let on that her prince is -all a fairy story. As I put it to her: she can't -come to much harm with an </span><em class="italics">imaginary</em><span> man. -Now, on the night she'll look so bare."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bare?" echoed Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bare of jewelry, I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her dress is white and pink and turquoise, a -duck of a thing. But she won't have a single -ornament to wear; so if De Freyne is to go on -believing what I told him about the prince she ought -to have some. Diamonds for choice. It doesn't -matter about afterwards. He'll have seen them -once and think she's put them away for safety. -Now that's where you can help. If you'll lend -them I'll make her wear them. You </span><em class="italics">have</em><span> got -some diamonds, haven't you?" she asked anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, in the bank. Of course I'll lend you -some," said Chalfont readily. "I'll telephone -through if you like and tell the bank to send them -along. How will that do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Splendid! That is good of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. I'm very glad to be able to help -Miss Hersey. Besides, I wouldn't for worlds -spoil the practical joke you've played on De -Freyne." He laughed. "It's one of the best -things I ever heard of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you won't let on to Lexie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a word. It shall be our secret."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">knew</em><span> I could count on you," said Maggy -confidently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont looked at his watch. It was ten now, -and the bank would be open, so he went to the -telephone and gave the necessary instructions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where have you been all this while?" Maggy -asked him when he came back to his seat. "I -wondered whether you would take my advice and -plump for some wild place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As it happens it's just as well I didn't. You -wouldn't be pouring out coffee for me if I had -gone to the Rockies or Central Africa," he smiled. -"I went for a commonplace cruise to Madeira and -back instead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you didn't, now.... Do you feel -better—about things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew she was thinking of Mrs. Lambert, -and liked her all the better for her indefiniteness. -It showed delicacy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think so," he answered. "I have often -recalled something you said when we stood at the -window of the little house in Albert Place: 'Life -goes on,' were the words. I'm going on with -mine. I'm trying to make the best of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like to hear that. Love isn't meant to -mope over. It's the sort of thing to remember -with praise and thanksgiving when it's gone. -When the loved one's gone, I mean. When you -come to think of it love's a curious thing. It's -like a very sharp two-edged sword. You handle -it so carelessly that it gives you scratches and cuts -and wounds that are so deep that even when they -heal they throb for years afterwards. I wonder -how I should feel—if my love stopped. I think -my life would stop too. I shouldn't be brave -enough to go on with things.... That doesn't -fit in very well with what I said just now about not -moping, does it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont answered her with a question of his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is love like to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To me? A burning, fiery furnace. All great -waves beating on me and smashing me about."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't that passion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. If it is it's like that stuff -everybody's talking about—radium. It gives off heat -and loses none." She remained lost in thought -for a while. "Perhaps I should feel different if -I were—married.... I dream of it sometimes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was dreaming then. Chalfont saw it in her -eyes. Her artlessness seemed a wonderful thing -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The odd thing is," she went on, "when I'm -imagining that I forget all about the man. It's -like having a sort of marriage service all to yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's silly.... I think of it to make me -go to sleep instead of counting silly sheep. It -makes me float off as if I were on a lovely cloud. -First I hear the church bells ringing—quite loud, -pealing; and my heart goes thumpetty-thump -because I'm going to be married, which I shall never -be in my life. It seems so important and grand. -And then I dress. That doesn't interest me very -much; but I like the look of my face through the -white veil. It's misty, like a summer -morning.... Then I'm in church—a great church, -perhaps a cathedral, and as I go up the aisle it's -as if God is playing the organ, and I'm walking on -all His stars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was quite a wonderful look in her -beautiful face. She seemed to have forgotten -Chalfont. He kept quite still waiting for her to go on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then the service begins. I read it once. -Parts of it I shall never forget. In the church -there are stacks of white flowers and lilies. It's -all so quiet and awful—only the clergyman's -voice.... I feel choking and I can't see because -my eyes are full of tears.... There </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> be -sacred love. I feel it all through me.... And -when it's over I'm crying. Sometimes if I'm not -asleep I go on with the honeymoon. I see fields -and blue sky and a homey-looking house—soft -red brick—with a green lawn and cedar trees on -it. Their branches stretch out to me like loving -arms. I see flowers everywhere. I think it's a -sort of farm, because there are cows and -wondering-eyed calves with soft slobbery noses and curly, -wet, rough tongues; and lambs with baby faces to -make pets of; and clucking chickens and stupid -broody hens. I'd be so kind to them...." She -drew a long breath. The dream was broken. -"Fred would say I'm dotty," she finished apologetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," said Chalfont, "your thoughts -are like dainty butterflies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a maggot in my brain, I expect," was -her dry rejoinder, dispelling her romantic mood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mitchell came in to say that a messenger had -arrived from the bank. Chalfont excused himself -and left the room. A minute or two later he came -back and took Maggy into another room. On -one of its tables stood two mahogany boxes. -Unlocking them he lifted the lids and moved aside -for her to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you'll find what you want here," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The top tray of one of the boxes was studded -with fine rings; the other held necklaces and -bracelets—diamonds, rubies, emeralds and pearls. -Underneath, when he removed the trays, Maggy's -eyes opened wide at a magnificent tiara and other -gemmed ornaments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do they </span><em class="italics">all</em><span> belong to you?" she gasped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, in a sense. They were my mother's. -They have belonged to many a Lady Chalfont in -the past."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then if you marry they will belong to your wife?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I marry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A mischievous look came into Maggy's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't suppose the future Lady Chalfont -would like to see Miss Maggy Delamere taking -her pick," she said. She became serious again. -"I shan't sleep comfortably while I have them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall," smiled Chalfont. "Will you choose -what you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy made a discreet choice, avoiding the -tiara and the more splendid objects much as she -would have liked to see them on Alexandra. -Chalfont put the jewels into a smaller case for -her. When he had done that he handed her a -little pendant, a dainty thing of small diamonds -with a ruby center.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you like that?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's sweet," said Maggy, holding it up for inspection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would like you to keep it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would like to keep it, too. But"—she -handed it back—"I can't take it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear child, why not? It's only a little thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred wouldn't like it. He wouldn't like my -coming here either. I did it because it was for -somebody else. Thank you ever so much though. -I do think you're kind." She gave his hand a -hearty grip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont saw her to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie appears on Thursday night. Don't -forget. Come and clap," were her farewell words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hailed a passing taxi. Chalfont helped her -in. As it drove off she waved to him, smiling. -To Chalfont it seemed that her smile lit the street.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxi"><span class="large">XXXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The transfer of the borrowed diamonds to -Alexandra was a troublesome job. For -once Maggy was reticent. In effect she -said, "Ask no questions and you will be told no -lies." Hers was the stronger will and in the end -it prevailed. Alexandra wore them and De -Freyne saw them. His shrewd eyes did not -mistake them for stage jewelry. He saw they were -real and was rather flabbergasted by their value. -Maggy hoped and prayed he would not interrogate -her again and that he would refrain from -putting awkward questions to Alexandra. He -did neither. He was much too satisfied with -Alexandra's opulent appearance to ask questions. -Moreover, he thought he could have provided -answers to them himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra had had her baptism of stage-fright -on tour. Curiously enough, when it came to walking -into the limelight of the stage of the Pall Mall -she was hardly nervous at all. She did not know -it, but the loss of her old enthusiasm for the stage -made her indifferent. Her sensations were -deadened. De Freyne noticed her calmness and put -it down to self-confidence, the same confidence that -had procured her the attentions of her august -"friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not leap into fame that night. She -attracted notice. The audience thought her pretty -and dainty. They found her refinement rather -in the nature of a </span><em class="italics">sorbet</em><span> between coarser fare. -They were not quite sure that they appreciated her -air of unconcern but it impressed them. So did -her diamonds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>De Freyne was very pleased with her and himself -as well. A good many of his friends, several -newspaper critics, and others who had a financial -interest in the Pall Mall, felicitated him in the -foyer on his discernment in recognizing talent -among the members of his chorus and incidentally -from among the choruses of lesser managers upon -whose folds he and his emissaries were always -watching and making raids. He went round to -the wings to congratulate Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've only one fault to find," he said. "You -coughed twice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had a cold for some time," was her excuse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to take something. See a doctor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, if it doesn't get better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra had on the white wrap which all -ladies of the company were expected to wear over -their costumes when not on the stage. He drew -it slightly aside, exposing her neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Damn fine diamonds, those, my dear. They -ought to keep colds away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded amiably and moved off. Maggy, -minus her wrap, rushing toward Alexandra, -collided with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's your dust-cloak?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, who can think of dust-cloaks when they're -excited!" she exclaimed, and flung her arms round -Alexandra. "You </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> a go, Lexie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the third time this week I've seen you -without it," said De Freyne testily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One and six more for the share-holders. Oh, -don't grumble, Mr. De Freyne, or else I shall kiss -you, too. I don't know what I'm doing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her arm in Alexandra's and dragged -her off to her dressing-room. De Freyne's eyes -followed the former.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Deep little devil, that," he observed to his -stage-manager, who had been looking on. -"Clever too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're all devils," rejoined that experienced -person, wearily. "But it's a change when they're -clever. Talking of cleverness, her friend's worth -watching. She's very raw material, but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean young Delamere? Clever?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clever as paint!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxii"><span class="large">XXXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Maggy had a pleasant surprise in store -for Woolf. She meant to spring it on -him that night after supper; but before -the opportunity arose for doing so she herself -was to suffer anything but a pleasant one from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although he was not in the habit of lavishing -valuable presents on her she spent a good deal -of her pocket money on him. He was not always -grateful for these little attentions. He regarded -her gifts as superfluous expressions of affection, -especially as he paid for both. At one time and -another she had given him a gold cigarette-case, -pocket-books, silver pencils, photograph frames, -smoking requisites. On one occasion, to his -amusement, she had presented him with a -crocheted pajama bag with his initials carried out in -the design. This labor of love was the product -of her period of convalescence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now, perhaps to clear her conscience of her -innocent traffic with Chalfont, she had launched -with extravagance on his account. It took the -form of the gift of a diamond ring. She had paid -for it with all her savings, and she hoped it was -a good stone, because Woolf had the trait which -the proverb warns us against: he liked to look a -gift-horse in the mouth. She was on the point of -making her presentation when he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way, you're going to be a grass-widow -for three weeks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Fred!" she exclaimed, her face falling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got to go abroad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"South of France."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That he should leave her at all was utterly -unexpected: the immediateness of his departure was -so overwhelming. She sat for a while in startled -silence. Suddenly she got up and threw her arms -round him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Fred, take me with you," she coaxed. -"It's summer there, isn't it? I've never been -abroad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf avoided her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I've not been well. It would do me -good. I'd </span><em class="italics">love</em><span> to travel with you, Fred. I'd -have some new trunks with your initials on them, -and I'd look so married and good. Really!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not possible, my dear," said Woolf. "De -Freyne wouldn't let you off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he would. He did before. You -arranged that, so you can again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take you abroad some day," he temporized. -"I really can't this time, Maggy. I shall -be traveling from place to place. I've arranged -dates with a man, and I can't put him off. It's -business. Don't plague me about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw it was no use arguing with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose I may write? What are the -places?" she inquired disconsolately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nice, Mentone, Cannes. Nice to start with -at any rate. I'm not quite sure of my movements, -but I'll let you know. You'd better address me -Poste Restante."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Honeymoon places!" There was a note of -longing in her voice. "Well, I suppose I've had -mine." She thought of the ring, forgot her -chagrin and went on mischievously: "As you're -going on your honeymoon I may as well give you -your wedding present. Here it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put it in his hand and hung back to watch -the effect it should have on him. He looked -pleased, but to her surprise seemed reluctant to -accept it. She broke in on his muttered excuses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tommy rot! I saw by your face that you -liked it. Hold out your finger." She kissed the -ring and also kissed his finger. "How does it -go? ... With this ring I thee wed, with this -body I thee worship.... There now. It's on. -We're as good as—no, worse than married! -Kiss me, you dear King. I don't mind your going -so very much so long as you'll be glad to come -back." Her lips quivered. "We've never been -parted before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's three weeks?" said Woolf lightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be a gray-haired old woman by the -time you come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Heavens! You're crying!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not," she denied, hiding her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silly Maggy." He took her in his arms. -"Cry afterwards. I'm not gone yet."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxiii"><span class="large">XXXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I've brought them back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy had come to restore the -borrowed jewels to Chalfont. It was late -afternoon of the following day. She was dressed -in gray with touches of black, and her face wore a -subdued expression. Woolf had left for the -Continent by the morning boat train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were a brick to lend them," she proceeded. -"Didn't you think Lexie was awfully good?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good indeed," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She isn't a bit excited. Funny, isn't it? She -used to be so keen once. Now I don't think she'd -mind a bit if she left the stage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I? I can't imagine myself anywhere else. -This time twenty years, if Maggy Delamere's still -alive, she'll be capering about in the chorus -somewhere, I expect. I hope I shall be dead though," -she added pessimistically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is the matter with you to-day?" asked Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blue devils. Mr. Woolf's away. He won't -be back for three weeks. He's on his honeymoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont stared at her. For a moment he -thought she was speaking seriously. He could not -understand her calm acceptance of such a fact. -Then Maggy laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's gone to honeymoon places, I mean. On -business. He couldn't take me." She changed -the subject quickly. "Have you ever been to see -Lexie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he replied. "I wasn't sure she would -like me to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps she wouldn't. It's not much of a -place where she lives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I want you to give her a message, if you will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course. What is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An invitation. It's for you too, if you will -accept it. But perhaps you've made arrangements -already—for Christmas, I mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy shook her head. Her Christmas would -have to be spent alone in her flat. It did not occur -to her that Chalfont was making her an alternative -proposition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that case I shall be very glad if you and -Miss Hersey will spend it with me at Purton Towers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy started. Lexie and she and he all -together at Christmas time! At Purton Towers!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that your country-house?" she faltered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. You'll come? We should be rather -quiet because—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because of poor Mrs. Lambert," she -interjected with quick understanding. "Was—was -she there with you last year?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, she would never come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy was thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expect Lexie would love to go," she -cogitated. "And so should I. But I ought to stop -at the flat.... Would it be very wrong if I -didn't? He—Fred—is very strict about me. -I wish I'd asked him...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont did not attempt persuasion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," she said suddenly. "I'll come. -It would be a shame to prevent Lexie having a -good time. She wouldn't come without me. It -will be simply lovely!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll motor you both down on Christmas Eve -and bring you back in time for the theater on -Boxing night. I think you'll like the old place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I? What makes you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For one thing because of the cedars on the lawn."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like in my dream? Oh, ripping!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there is the home-farm. You like animals."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's face lighted up. "Will there be -lambs and calves and fat squealy little pigs?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hardly at this time of year," answered Chalfont, -amused. "You'll have to come in the spring -again to see them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think I could resist it, if you invited -us. May I ask you something?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything you like. Fire away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's this," she said with considerable -hesitation. "I would love to spend a </span><em class="italics">real</em><span> Christmas -Day. Would you mind? One goes to church, -doesn't one? And I would like people not to -know we were actresses. I would like—if you -could manage it—to have a Christmas tree. -Couldn't you ask some village children—a lot of -them? Children are always in season even when -lambs and calves aren't. That's one blessing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think that could be managed. Do you like -children?" he asked, surprised at her earnestness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like them? It's the one part of Heaven that -sounds most attractive. You know where it says -in the Bible: 'Suffer little children ... and of -such is the Kingdom of Heaven,' and then a lot -more toward the end about gold and jasper and -glassy seas and streets of gold. I expect there -must be a nursery for the children who died young. -I'd like to squeeze in with the little angels!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You funny child!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not a child. It's only my silly way of -talking. I'm a woman. Why, this"—she held -up her little finger—"this knows more about love -and pain and everything else than—Lexie's whole -body. Now I must be off. I do talk to you. -What makes me? I only meant to stop a minute." She -was wrought up at the prospect of spending -Christmas—a real country Christmas—under -such delightful conditions as she had outlined and -Chalfont had tacitly acquiesced in. Too impatient -to wait until evening to impart the joyful news to -Alexandra she made for Sidey Street as fast as a -taxicab could take her. There, breathlessly she -told her news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How nice of him!" declared Alexandra. -"Did you meet him accidentally, or how?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How," answered Maggy, and colored violently -under Alexandra's clear and searching eyes. -"I had to go to his house—on business," she -floundered, giving herself away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra could not help laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Maggy! Then the diamonds I wore last -night were his!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing wrong with them, was there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but—but you must be very friendly with -him. Have you seen him a lot since he came back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I went to borrow them and again -to-day when I took them back," replied Maggy, -regaining her self-possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder what he thinks of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, just mad," said Maggy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In a week's time it would be Christmas. The -joys of anticipation helped her to endure Woolf's -absence. She knew that her visit to Purton -Towers would incense him, but she did not intend -going it on that account. She would not be doing -Woolf or herself any wrong in going. When he -returned she would be quite honest and tell him -all about it. Meanwhile she wrote to Chalfont.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dear Lord Chalfont:</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Lexie will love to come. Me too. But -would you mind very much if I brought -Mrs. Slightly and Mr. Onions?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Yours sincerely,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"MAGGY DELAMERE."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her large and sprawly handwriting covered the -sheet. Had it not been for the afterthought in -the form of a postscript which she added overleaf, -Chalfont might have remained in ignorance of the -identity of the two additional guests. It ran thus:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I forgot you don't know them. Mrs. Slightly -could sleep anywhere, being a cat. Mr. Onions -is my dog and has a basket in my room. -At any other time of the year I would not mind -leaving them in charge of the porter at the flats -but at Christmas everybody loses their heads and -they might not get fed. They are not well bred -but they have good manners."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Chalfont did not mind in the least. If Maggy -had wanted in addition to bring a tame goat he -would have welcomed it. All her eccentricities -amused him. Her solicitude for her two pets -showed her thoughtfulness and goodness of heart. -So, when the day arrived, Mrs. Slightly traveled to -Purton Towers in a well-ventilated hat box, while -Onions, wildly excited but restrained by a -brand-new leather leash, sat between Maggy and -Alexandra in the back of the car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a brilliant day, one of those sunny, -windless days that belies the time of year. The air -was crisp rather than cold, and the two girls, -wrapped in their furs and a capacious rug, reveled -in the swift rush of the open car infinitely more -than if they had been driving in a closed one. -Maggy was in prodigious spirits. Chalfont, -driving with his man beside him, turned occasionally -to watch her, regretting that he was unable to -catch a word of her animated talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't life a funny thing, Onions dear," she was -bubbling rather than saying. "Six months ago -you were a gagaboo little horror eating your -namesakes out of a dustbin, and here you are being -driven by a real live lord. The beauty of it is -you don't know it and wouldn't care if you did. -That's one of the reasons why I love you, Onions. -You don't mind me being an abandoned female. -You don't even know that I am one. That's why -King Edward was so fond of his Cæsar. Cæsar -didn't love him because he was a king but because -he was a man. He might have been a coal-heaver -for all Cæsar cared. You little wog-wogs don't -know anything about titles or the marriage service, -but you can love, honor and obey better than we -can, till death makes us howl and bury you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Onions, straining at his lead, leapt up and tried -to snatch a mouthful of her motor-veil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Onions, if I were rich I would try to make a -heaven on earth for all the doggies in the world. -I'd look for all the hungry ones and all the ugly -ones and the beaten ones and the ones whose -mothers sat on them and made them funny shapes. -You should all have lovely patent kennels full of -the best quality straw—heaps of it to wiggle -around in; and exciting food, bones and the -horrible things from insides that you like so much, and -sulphur when you weren't looking, to keep you -well and make your coats shine. And you should -all run about wherever you pleased, chasing -bunny-rabbits and mice and the other sniffy things that -make dogs so excited. And there should be a -special place all wired round for the slow doggies, all -full of rabbits so that they couldn't get away. It -wouldn't be cruel, because after a time you'd make -friends with the bunnies and play hide and seek -with them. Oh, what a lovely world we could -make it if we had it all to ourselves. Lexie, do -look at Onion's face. He's </span><em class="italics">laughing</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra laughed too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How you do lose your head and your heart to -anything you love, Maggy," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy gave her one of her odd looks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't it a way women have?" she retorted.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxiv"><span class="large">XXXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The room, of regal dimensions, was -paneled in linenfold, and hung with old -tapestry. Giant specimens of William -and Mary furniture did not crowd it; nor did the -big canopied four-poster on its dais much curtail -the floor-space. In the wide, open fireplace logs -glowed warmly. A dozen candles shed a soft -light on Alexandra as she sat in a tall carved -armchair by the hearth, plaiting her hair. Maggy -on the bed in her nightgown with her hands clasped -round her knees was lost in the shadow of its -brocaded curtains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pinch me, Lexie, or I shall believe it's all a -dream and wake up," she said. "Fancy, a king -slept here once. I wonder what he'd have said -if he'd been told that hundreds of years -afterwards a chorus girl was coming into his bed—" A -shy gurgle brought her to a stop as she realized -the doubtful meaning she had given to the last -part of the sentence. "Lexie, how quiet you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm reveling in it too," said Alexandra with -a contented sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you're a lady by birth. It's natural to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed it isn't. I've never been in such a -lovely place in my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Footmen with powdered legs!" mused Maggy absently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra laughed softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hair, I mean. Same thing.... And the -dinner served like machinery and yet so quietly. -None of the waiters—servants—in a hurry, -and everything so natural and perfect. I thought -I should feel like walking on new-laid eggs, but -I didn't at all. Oh, if you lived in a place like -this all your life you couldn't help growing noble -and behaving beautifully. I don't feel properly -vulgar here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you're not vulgar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, perhaps not properly.... Isn't -Mrs. Pardiston a dear? She's 'the Honorable,' isn't -she? I think 'the Honorable' sounds more splendid -than 'Lady' or even 'Duchess.' 'Honorable!' It -means so much. The others are tides, -but 'the Honorable' is an—an—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Attribute?" supplied Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that's the word. Isn't it nice of him -asking her—his own aunt—to meet us? Oh, Lord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked Lord Chalfont not to tell any one -we were on the stage. Mrs. Pardiston can't -know. She ought to. She's been so sweet to me. -Perhaps she wouldn't have been if she'd known. -I think I ought to tell her before I go to sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not wait till the morning?" suggested -Alexandra.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure to forget in the morning. I'm going -to get up at seven to see the cows milked. You -mustn't, Lexie, because you've got a cold. And -then there'll be church, and after that the Christmas -tree to do things to, and—I shan't </span><em class="italics">remember</em><span> -I'm on the stage to-morrow. Oh, are you going?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, it's past twelve." Alexandra's -bedroom was opposite Maggy's. "I wish we had -been together," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So do I. But I suppose in the state of life -unto which it has pleased God to call the -aristocracy they never do sleep together. Good night, -darling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left alone, Maggy remained as she was, -hugging her knees and thinking. The soft, warm -silence wrapped her round. Her excited mind -was full of the eventful day: the long motor run -ending with her first close acquaintance with a -noble old edifice such as she had only previously -seen in pictures and photographs. Her first view -of it had made her feel as if she could have knelt -down and worshiped it. It was all so grand -and so very, very good. Her tiny flat, which had -hitherto seemed such a palace in her eyes, -receded to its proper unimposing proportions. She -saw the insignificance of her little white "bedroom -suite" beside the stately furniture that surrounded -her. She thought of the dignity, the age and the -atmosphere of peace into which, as on a magic -carpet, she had been suddenly transported, and -compared it with the fret and turmoil and passion of -her own life. She had been timorous at first of -Mrs. Pardiston with her air of high breeding, -and then fallen completely under the spell of her -charm. It had shown itself so gently maternal -toward her and Alexandra, so unquestioning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Pardiston probably assumed her to -be a lady. It seemed absurd, in spite of her -having striven hard to appear as to the manner -born. Indeed, she had succeeded in behaving -charmingly. Only her modesty prevented her -being assured of it. Even supposing she had -satisfied Lord Chalfont's aunt in that respect, she still -felt she was imposing on the dear old lady by -not having disclosed her want of social standing. -With that doubt on her mind she got into bed, the -enormous bed that enveloped her like a warm, -embracing sea. It kept her awake. Not more -than an hour since, Mrs. Pardiston bidding her -good-night had said, "Come to me if you want -anything, my dears. You know where my room is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Recollection of those words sent her flying out -of bed. She felt she must go and make confession. -Out in the wide corridor she was directed by a -stream of light that came from under her -hostess's door. She knocked at it ever so gently, and -was bidden to enter. She opened it and stood on -the threshhold, hesitating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Pardiston was sitting up in bed, reading. -Maggy's subsequent impression of her was always -that of a white-haired Madonna crowned with -folds of soft lace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I come in? Am—am I disturbing -you?" she asked timidly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my dear. I never get to sleep for hours. -But what is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy closed the door. Barefooted, in her -nightgown, with her hair ruffled, she looked and -felt like a child caught in some reprehensible act.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know whether you knew we—I—I'm -a chorus-girl," she stammered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Pardiston shut her book. She had been -reading the story of the birth of Jesus. That -lonely vigil of Mary and her outcast Son, the -friendlessness and loneliness of it, had its special -appeal on this the dawn of its anniversary. Her -heart was touched. For some unknown reason -also it went out to the girl so wistfully standing by -her bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you, dear?" she said tenderly. "Wrap -yourself in the eider-down and tell me all about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tell her all about it! Maggy was quite unprepared -for the calm and friendly overture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you mind if I didn't?" she faltered. -"It would take so long. I dance and sing for -my living, that's all. There's nothing interesting -about it. But I thought you ought to know, else -you might have—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Pardiston smiled reassuringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should never think ill of a person because -they worked for their living. It was nice of you -to want to trust me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did. You've been so kind.... But I'm -interrupting you. You were reading."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can read to me, if you will." Mrs. Pardiston -took off her spectacles and handed Maggy -the book, indicating the place. "Are you quite -warm? But perhaps you would rather go to bed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll read a little first, please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not till then did Maggy observe that the book -she held was the Bible. A solemn look came -into her face. Her voice was a little unsteady as -she began to read.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of -Judea in the days of Herod the King, behold, -there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Saying, Where is he that is born King of -the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, -and are come to worship him....'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont, passing the room on his way to bed, -heard Maggy's voice, and paused to listen.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxv"><span class="large">XXXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>To get up of a winter's morning to see his -cows milked was not a usual diversion -with Chalfont, but to please Maggy he -turned out at seven and took her to the home farm -to witness that process. She was absorbed by it. -She had never before been nearer to a cow than -the average hedge permits of; and to see them, as -she did now, in the family circle, so to speak, was -a delightful novelty to her. Her love of animals -was very real. She went into raptures over -Chalfont's velvety-nosed prize Jerseys.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her hurry to get up she had neglected to use -any of the creams and unguents which she deemed -necessary for the adornment of her face. It had -been too dark for Chalfont to notice this -omission at first, but on their way back he became -aware of it, and also of the flawlessness of her -complexion. Without stopping to think, he said:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you done to yourself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean, what have I not done?" she -laughed. "I've forgotten my face. Left it out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was on the point of apologizing for his -blunder, but said instead: "I like you much -better as you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what Lexie's always saying. But it's -habit. When a girl makes-up year in and year -out she feels undressed without it. Savages have -that feeling, I suppose," she added comically. "I -haven't wished you a happy Christmas yet. I do -hope you will be very happy—later on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you. And I hope you will be happy always."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm happy now, at any rate. I believe this -is going to be the most heavenly day of my life. I -feel it in my bones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few moments later she burst into Alexandra's -bedroom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lexie dear, happy Christmas! I've been -saying it to the cows and the horses and the -lodge-keeper's children ever since seven. Give me a -hug. I haven't got your Christmas present with -me, because it's an eider-down quilt. You'll find -it on your bed when you get back. Don't -let's think of getting back though. It's so perfect -here. What time will church be? I suppose I -mustn't take Onions to church? He chased the -fowls all over the farmyard this morning. Lord -Chalfont says I can leave him here if I like. It -would be nice for Onions, but not for the fowls. -There's a bell! It must be for breakfast. Come -along; I'm famished."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Church followed on the heels of breakfast. -Maggy had never been to a Christmas service -before. She was tremendously impressed by it. -The maternal instinct, always very strong in her, -tugged at her heart strings. Once, as she knelt, -Alexandra noticed that she was quietly crying. -So did Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Pardiston and Alexandra stopped for -Communion. Leaving the motor for them, the -other two walked back. Maggy was very quiet. -With the latent understanding that made Chalfont -attune himself to her mood he too refrained -from speech. Presently she burst out:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why does the world only appreciate people -after they're dead? What is the good of -birthdays when you're not alive? That poor little -baby! If He came down from Heaven again -they'd let Him be born in a manger just the same. -Only children ought to go to church on Christmas -day. They're good enough. We're not. Do -you know, I wondered I wasn't struck dumb for -being anywhere near to God. God was in church -this morning. I felt Him. I'm not religious, but -I believe in God now. Oh, I wish I was good, like -Lexie. I wish I didn't know what love is. I -wish I'd never been wicked!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was wrought-up. She had forgotten the -necessity for reticence. Her confession had to -come. The restraint of sex was forgotten. If -she thought of Chalfont at all at that moment, it -was as a brother rather than a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush," he said. "You're not wicked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am, I am," she reiterated. "</span><em class="italics">I</em><span> ought to -have had a baby.... People must have thought -the usual things of Mary because of hers.... -But she had Him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You poor little woman," he said unsteadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That he should express compassion where most -men would have shown despisement filled her with -almost dog-like gratitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> like you," she said with sudden -vehemence. "If I had been dear Mrs. Lambert I -would have loved you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," he said very seriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like a passing cloud, the strange emotional -mood soon left her. Her volatile spirits rose -again. By the time she had taken Onions for a -scamper in the grounds she was quite her old self. -Chalfont, watching her flitting here and there, -thought only of her rapturous enjoyment of -innocent pleasures, and succeeded for a little while -in forgetting that such a person as Woolf with -his sullying associations was in existence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day passed with dream-like swiftness for -the two girls. They snatched at its fleeting -pleasures according to their temperaments. To -Alexandra it was a delightful break in a life which she -was beginning to loathe, one for which she could -not be too grateful. Its very evanescence caused -her to enjoy it with temperate zest. Maggy's -livelier feelings made her grasp at all it brought -forth with both hands. To her it was a glimpse -into fairyland, or at least a world in which she -classed herself a complete outsider.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont had not forgotten her desire for a -Christmas tree and the presence of children to -enjoy it. All the youngsters on the estate had -been bidden to the treat. There were small boys, -rosy of cheek, in their best; small girls, -eager-eyed, in the whitest of pinafores. Maggy, at -Mrs. Pardiston's request, presided over the feast -arranged for them. She it was who afterwards -distributed the gifts from the loaded Christmas -tree. Within five minutes the children were under -her spell; in ten she seemed to know all their names -and a great deal about each of them. When at -last the tree was stripped of all but its candles -she started games and joined in them. She -romped. She was a child among children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they had all gone, Chalfont suggested -that before dressing for dinner the two girls should -inspect the picture-gallery, which they had not yet -seen, and as soon as it was lighted up he led the -way there. Maggy's interest at once centered in -the many portraits that lined the walls. The -landscapes and genre pictures that interspersed them -she passed by. Individualities only concerned -her, and to these, in the canvasses of dead and -gone Chalfonts she gave a rapt attention, stopping -at each that appealed to her and asking for its -history. One portrait in particular, that of a very -beautiful girl, she looked at for a long time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was she?" she inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My grandmother," replied Chalfont. "It -was painted just after her marriage. She was -only nineteen when she died, a year later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what a pity! Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont passed to the next portrait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her son," he said. "My father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy understood. She glanced back sadly at -the youthful face of the mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfonts in armor, in uniform, in silk and -velvet and in lace, confronted her everywhere. She -flitted from one to the other, admiring, impressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How proud of them all you must be," she said -finally. "Fancy having—ancestors!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she spoke she paused before the portrait of -a woman, perceiving in it something different -from the rest. The face was handsome, yet -lacked a high-bred look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Another ancestress," said Chalfont. "An -actress, a contemporary of Mrs. Siddons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did she come here?" wondered Maggy, -almost jealous for the honor of his house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She married the fourth Viscount."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Married him!" She stared at the painted -lady. "It was a mistake," she said, as though -to herself, and in so odd a tone that the others -laughed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Chalfont set the two girls down at the -stage-door on Boxing night Maggy pressed a note -into his hand. He read it at his club, where he -went to dine before returning to the theater.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"'Thank you very much' sounds so beastly -ordinary in words, so I must write it, because I -want you to know that I am ever so grateful for -the way you have treated me. It's proper for -a darling saint like Lexie to be asked to stay at -Purton Towers. But me—that's another thing. -I shall get into hot water with Mr. Woolf for -coming, and I don't suppose he'll allow it again -if you ask me, or even let me see you. But don't -ever think that I can forget your kindness. -Although you know what I am you have had me down -to your beautiful home, with your sweet honorable -aunt just as if I wasn't a common girl, which -I am. The only thing I can say is that perhaps -if I had been properly brought up and had a name -to be proud of I shouldn't have dragged it in the -mud like I have my own silly name which can't -belong to me because it's the classy kind actresses -make up. Don't laugh. I'm not often serious, -but I do say God bless you and I mean it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"MAGGY."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The overture was coming to an end when Chalfont -took his seat in the stalls. As the curtain -swished up his eyes went to Maggy, scantily clad -in diaphanous chiffon. He was thinking of the -golden heart of the girl, not at all of her -compulsorily over-exposed beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Maggy was blushing beneath her grease -paint. A sudden access of modesty had come -over her. It was as baffling to herself as was the -remark she flung to the girl dancing beside -her—one, two, three and a kick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What wouldn't I give for a blanket!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxvi"><span class="large">XXXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One evening, a few days after Christmas, -De Freyne waylaid Alexandra as she was -coming from her dressing-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your cough doesn't seem to go," he said. -"People in the stalls don't want to be reminded -of graveyards. It's rather suggestive. You -ought to see a doctor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll find out who my panel doctor is," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should prefer you to go to Bernard Meer. -Son of the late Sir Morton Meer, you know. Like -his father, he's a throat specialist, and not given -to charging fees to members of the profession. -Say you're at the Pall Mall and mention my name -when you see him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was reluctant to do as De Freyne wished, -but he was insistent, and she promised to call at -the Wimpole Street address which he gave her. -It seemed rather absurd to go to a specialist for -a bottle of cough mixture. She took her slight -throat affection as a matter-of-course, a cold -induced by the draughts on the stage and the change -of temperature to which she was exposed after -leaving the theater at night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, therefore, she presented herself next -morning in Wimpole Street she was in a very -apologetic frame of mind. A full waiting-room, -testifying to the doctor's importance, did not help -to restore her confidence. She was the last to -arrive and had a long time to wait. When her -turn came to enter the consulting room she was -more nervous than she had been when making her -first appearance on the stage. She had pictured -Dr. Meer as an elderly man, and her discomfiture -was all the greater when she found him to be a -young one, not over thirty. It may have been -prudish—in some respects she was apt to suffer -from excess of delicacy—but she had a maidenly -dread of the physical examination which she knew -she would have to undergo. Hardly had the door -closed behind her when she felt that the specialist's -keen gray eyes had X-rayed through her sable -coat and made a mental photograph of her slightly -protruding collarbones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Schooled to read faces, he saw how nervous she -was and wondered at it. Nervousness in De -Freyne's young ladies was something of an -anachronism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's wrong?" he asked cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a cold," she replied. "It seems -ridiculous to bother you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled. For so young a man and an -unmarried one his manner was reassuringly paternal. -It was not artificial pretentiousness, but genuine -and natural to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought not to be in the habit of catching -cold in such a gorgeous fur coat. We'll have it -off, please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bereft of the garment, her fragility was -evident enough. Bernard Meer admired slight -women; but this girl's physique struck him as too -delicate for stage-work. He thought, too, that -he detected signs of privation in her face. Why -that should be when apparently she could afford -to dress so expensively was a puzzle to him. He -sounded her carefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing much the matter, is there?" -she asked, when he had done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at present. But you're too thin. You -want looking after, coddling. Are you very keen -on the stage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't find it altogether alluring," she made -answer a little reluctantly; "but I can't afford to -give it up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That isn't absolutely necessary. Only—well, -the luxuries that the average woman can -easily do without are essential to you. Get the -person who gave you those furs to treat you to -a few guinea jars of turtle soup and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra's flaming face made him stop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The lady who gave them to me is dead," she -said quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little while ago she would have resented -Meer's words as an intentional insult. Now she -knew that her connection with the stage had -suggested them to him. Probably he meant -nothing offensive. As a matter of fact he did not. -Still, for some reason which she could not define, -she felt hurt that he should have thought it -necessary to convey what he did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt, too, that his scrutiny was not entirely -that of the physician. She sensed the man in it. -Had she also been aware that he was admiring -her—a circumstance of which his impassive face -gave no indication—and that he was pleasantly -surprised to find her free from a weakness common -to the general run of De Freyne's beauties, her -perturbation would have been greater than it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The trouble with you," he said with friendly -intent, "is mainly want of proper nourishment. -Please forgive the question, but—are you hard up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not at present. At least, not very. I -was rather, before I went back to the Pall Mall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back? You were there before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seemed to be thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you in the chorus?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used to be. Now I have a small part."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But not much in the way of salary?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thirty-five shillings a week. But I have -forty pounds a year of my own besides. I should -be quite reasonably well off if it were not for the -many little things I have to find for the theater. -I ought not to complain. There are thousands of -girls far worse off than I am."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you live—where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made a note of the address.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your appetite?" was the next question. -"For instance, what did you have for breakfast -this morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tea, and bread and butter ... and there -was an egg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The usual sort of egg?" he augmented cynically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A little more than usual," she replied with a -faint smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see. And I suppose you will have lunch -at a bunshop?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Please don't look so prejudiced. Some -bunshops are quite satisfying places. One sees -plenty of men there as well as women."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so. Anæmic clerks who should be -eating a good midday meal to make up for an -indifferent supper at night, and girls who need -meat contenting themselves with coffee and a roll, -or perhaps pastry! Now I'm going to write you -a prescription. Mind you get it made up and -take it. Let me see you again three days from -now. If you don't come I shall visit you. -Seriously, you need to take care of yourself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped the protest that rose to her lips, -gave her the prescription, and, again impressing -on her the necessity of coming to report progress, -let her go. Why he, who had never previously -felt any hankering after an actress, should want -to see more of a stray girl, and one of De Freyne's -at that, was more than he could explain to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra kept the appointment and several -others after it. Her first shyness vanished. -Meer disguised his personal interest in her -because he wanted to benefit her professionally. -Not until he had practically cured her throat trouble -did he give her any indication of his real feelings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you'll be all right now if you take care -of yourself," he told her one morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've given you a lot of trouble," she rejoined -gratefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She placed two guineas on a side table. He -picked up the coins and handed them back to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—please? You can't do it for nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't done it for nothing. If you want -to recompense me, you can quite easily. I should -be honored if you will lunch with me. Will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," she hesitated, "I don't go out to lunch -with anybody—ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's why I said I should be honored if you -would. Come, we're quite friends. I've seen -you four times for ten minutes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wanted to accept. After all, as she had -expressed it to Maggy when Woolf had asked her -out, there was no harm in lunching with a man. -She was reminded of that opinion, now that it -applied to herself. She wanted to accept Meer's -invitation, but was held back by a suspicion of -what these lunches, suppers and dinners were -meant to lead to. Men seemed to think that a -girl on the stage could be bought for the price -of a dinner! And then, in her indecision, she -looked at Meer, saw the friendly eagerness in his -face, and let reason give way to inclination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to refuse," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five minutes later they were on their way to -the Carlton. Meer would have preferred enjoying -her society in a less popular place, but there -was a matinée that day and the Pall Mall was so -close to the great restaurant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Alexandra knew where they were bound -for diffidence seized on her. Maggy might be -there. If she were, and saw her with a man, what -would she think? Alexandra felt that there could -be no two answers to that question. She entered -the big, rose-colored room in fear and trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy, however, was not lunching at the -Carlton that day. But Lander, the composer of -Alexandra's new song, saw her and carried the -news to De Freyne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who do you think was lunching with Bernard -Meer at the Carlton to-day?" he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No woman," answered De Freyne. "He -hates 'em. Thinks they've got fluff in their heads -instead of brains, and that's why they're so -light-headed. Told me so himself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a woman for all that. Nobody less -than little Hersey! And, by Jove, it was quite -fascinating to watch her. At first she hardly -spoke a word; but before long she might have been -alone with him in the restaurant. She seemed to -have clean forgotten everybody else in the place. -And he was just as taken up with her. They -couldn't take their eyes off one another. Wonder -what it means?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing. You've got hold of the wrong -end of the stick, my dear chap. Why, she only -met the fellow a fortnight ago. I sent her to him. -Meer wouldn't look at one of my lot, except professionally."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, when he saw Alexandra that evening -he chaffed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear you were lunching with Meer to-day," -he said. "Was that part of his prescription?" Something -in her face so entirely pure and at the -same time so piteous, made him refrain from -saying more. He had once seen much the same -expression in his own daughter's face when she had -shyly told him that some one had proposed to her -and was coming for his consent. "Damn it all," -he reflected. "She's going to fall in love like any -ordinary girl!" Aloud he said, "Meer isn't a -marrying sort, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra bent her head as she passed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bernard Meer was in the stalls that night. She -saw him looking at her. Once he smiled, and, -trembling, she smiled back, and despised herself -for smiling, since now like nearly all the others -she had "a friend" in the house.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxvii"><span class="large">XXXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Prince's was filling up for supper. The -diapason of many voices, the tinkle of -silver and glass, merged pleasantly with -the music of the band; the sound was like a pæan -of praise to Amphitryon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy and Woolf occupied a table at the end -of the room opposite the balcony. The latter -had been back about ten days, and Maggy was -happy again. She lived so entirely in the present -that she had actually and honestly forgotten to -tell him about her visit to Purton Towers. Of -Chalfont she had seen nothing more. Woolf so -filled her thoughts that, for once, she was even -out of touch with Alexandra. A minute or two -at night between entrances and exits was all they -were able to give to one another. Then Maggy's -one subject was "her Fred," and Alexandra's -reserve kept her silent about Bernard Meer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look over there," said Woolf rather suddenly. -His straying eyes, ever in search of youth -and beauty, had lit on a face he knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?" asked Maggy, gazing about at random.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On your left. Four tables away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy gave a start of astonishment when at -last she discerned Alexandra with a man, a -highly-presentable man, rather stern of face, good-looking -and comparatively young. Her Lexie with a -man! She stared, tongue-tied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See her?" asked Woolf, and broke the spell -of silence that held her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy in her excitement half rose from her -chair and called a greeting to Alexandra. Until -then, the latter, though fully prepared to see -Maggy in such a place, had been unaware of her -presence. At the sound of her voice she looked -up, nodded and smiled. Meer, turning to see -who had attracted her attention, gave Maggy a -glance full of interest. It was evident to him -that she and Alexandra were something more than -mere acquaintances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a striking-looking girl," he said. -"Who is she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her name is Maggy Delamere," replied Alexandra. -"We used to live together at Sidey Street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has a flat," she said with a little constraint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she on the stage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. At the Pall Mall. Haven't you noticed -her? She's in the front row."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know De Freyne had any married -women in his chorus," said Meer thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Maggy isn't married," began Alexandra, -and then stopped in confusion, suspecting that he -must have seen the conspicuously broad wedding -ring on Maggy's left hand, just as she herself could -see it. She crumbled her bread nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you in favor of that sort of thing?" -Meer asked abruptly, showing that he had been -following her line of thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very usual—on the stage," she answered -evasively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't condemn it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't condemn my friend, if that's what you mean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But do you condone it?" he persisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how can I tell you? It's a question of -what one feels individually," she countered -desperately. "With a woman it doesn't necessarily -mean that she has chosen that way.... Sometimes -she has no alternative."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean that your friend would rather be -married?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much rather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a pause he said: "Then what is your -opinion of a man who only offers a woman love -without marriage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a very high one. I couldn't respect -him," she replied, greatly embarrassed. "It -seems such an unfair advantage to take of a girl -who has more than enough of unfair things to -contend with already. I—I would rather not -talk about it, if you don't mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to her that he was deliberately -sounding her code of morality before making the -proposition which she felt was imminent if she continued -to see him. She could no longer disguise from -herself that he wanted her, and that her own -instinct was not one of flight. Had she met him -before she had gone on the stage she would have -estimated his feelings toward her correctly, seen -that he was honorably attracted to her. But her -recent experiences had distorted her views about -courtship. Her heart would have beaten to a -different tune had she known that his motive -in questioning her about Maggy was merely to -ascertain her opinion on a matter which, -owing to her connection with the stage, must be -familiar to her. After her expressed desire to -avoid it he let it drop, and turned to another, more -vital to himself and her, on which he had made -up his mind to speak to her that evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long must you and I go on like this?" he -asked in an undertone, full of suppressed feeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her heart thumped in her throat so that she -could not answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean," he said, "that it's not very satisfying -seeing you so occasionally. It's true we -haven't known one another very long as time goes, -but it has been long enough for me to realize my -own feelings. I want you. Those three words -mean everything that a man can say to a woman. -What is your answer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The surge of feeling, the thrill she experienced -as he said "I want you," left her in no doubt as -to her own emotions. She not only loved, she -loved without reservation, with a magnitude so -huge that it seemed as though a transport of -yearning were being pumped into her by some external -Titanic force. And it came from him, the man -facing, close to her. She heard the clarion cry of -sex for the first time in a crowded restaurant, -where she could not even cover her face with her -hands and so hide her besieged virginity from the -sight of men. She could only sit still and feel her -shame creeping into her face. Maggy, glancing -her way every now and then, saw the agitation -that was moving her and thought she was going -to faint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie's ill!" she whispered anxiously, and -was about to get up and go to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf's hand detained her. He had been -watching Meer, and also seen Alexandra's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit still," he commanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she's going to faint!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not she!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—what's the matter with her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Can't you see?</em><span>" he chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy gasped. Lexie, of all people—at last! -It was as if she saw a huge warm wave gathering, -gaining speed, advancing on the game little -swimmer and bearing her off captive.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxviii"><span class="large">XXXVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Alexandra sat on the edge of her bed. -In the little room with the cistern the -temperature was bitterly cold, but she was -insensible to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had said wonderful things. He had said -she was beautiful.... By the light of the candle -she peered into the glass, trying to see her face -as he had seen it. Perhaps it was the effect of -the two great plaits of dark hair that hung framing -it, or of a certain new softness in her eyes, of -something knowledgeable that she had not seen -there before, but she felt that she was looking at -herself for the first time unveiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hands went to her nightgown, holding it to -her; then, as involuntarily, they loosened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shyly, as though she were not alone, she gazed -back at the dim reflection in the mirror and knew -that girlhood was behind her, that she was no -longer, as Kipling's little maid,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"A field unfilled, a web unwove,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>A bud withheld from sun or bee,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>An alien in the courts of Love,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And priestess of his shrine is she."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All rosy, she blew out the light.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xxxix"><span class="large">XXXIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Next morning Maggy was round at Sidey -Street. She felt that confidences were in -the air. If Alexandra was not dying to -impart them she at least was "all of a twitter" to -hear them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie," she cried, bursting in, "don't have -any secrets from me. Who is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra was in the act of writing a letter. -She looked up apathetically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean the man I was with last night?" -she said. "I'm not going to see him any more, -so we won't talk about him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, we will! Why, I do believe you're -writing to him now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can read what I've written."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus invited, Maggy looked over her shoulder. -Alexandra had begun a stilted little note to -Bernard Meer in which she briefly refused to meet -him any more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think you'll post it," said Maggy -shrewdly. "It doesn't ring true. Besides, what -do you want to run away from him for? He -looked just the sort of man one could trust, not -a bit like the stage-door pest kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She cross-examined Alexandra, dragged from -her the few bald details of her half-dozen -meetings with Meer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you're in love with him," she -declared. "I saw it in your face. If I hadn't -been so taken up with Fred I should have found -out things before last night. Lexie, what's going -to happen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tone in which Maggy asked the question -showed that she expected a particular answer, that -she would be surprised if it were not the one which -followed the line of least resistance. It set -Alexandra wavering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Maggy," she said desperately, "if any -one had told me a few months ago that I should -ever have had to fight against that sort of -temptation I should have died of shame! All last night -I lay awake hating and despising myself, and all -the time I was trying to find excuses for myself. -I never thought love would come like this, taking -one unawares, giving one no time to prepare for -it. If I ever let myself think of it at all it was -as of some fragrant and beautiful little plant that -one could watch shoot and grow and bud—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Instead of that it's gone and done a kind of -Mango trick like I saw at St. George's Hall -once—sprouted up into a full-grown tree while you -waited, or rather while you didn't wait. I -daresay love might have come as you picture it, Lexie, -if you'd stayed at home. Plants grow faster in a -forcing-house; and the stage is, well—a hot-bed. -If you're really in love you might as well try and -get away from it as from an express train when -it's bowled you over. After all, there's just a -chance you won't get scrunched to pieces if you take -it lying down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the hundredth time in the last twelve hours -Alexandra found herself wondering whether she -dared follow Maggy's example, and give herself -to the man she loved. If she did, what would -be the outcome of it? How long would such an -affection, at least on the man's part, last? -Always those old set views of hers about life and -morality rose up to haunt her indecision. Was -she, after all, to recant, give up the fight, own -herself beaten?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old Lexie," murmured Maggy, taking -her hand after a long silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy,"—Alexandra held her eyes questioningly—"tell -me honestly: do you in any way regret -what you did? You know why I want to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy looked within herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she answered thoughtfully, "I don't. I -do admit there's one thing that spoils it, makes it -different to being married. You often wonder -at night, or first thing in the morning, sometimes -even in daytime, whether it's one day nearer the -end or how far off the end is. I'm prepared for -Fred to get tired of me one day, though I hope it -won't come for years and years. But so long as -he's straight over it I'll meet him half way. I'll -go to my own funeral, and not sniffle. It wouldn't -be reasonable to refuse to take the consequences. -You've got to choose for yourself. I believe it's -the only way for us girls on the stage. With most -of us marriage is an accident. Only go into it -with your eyes open. Leave out the fairy-tale -notion that 'they lived happily ever afterwards,' -or at least half of it. Thank goodness for the -'happily,' and be satisfied with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only I could get right away," murmured -Alexandra. "Here I feel hunted down. I sit -and think and think and get weaker and weaker. -And this room and the street simply shriek to me -to leave them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know all the symptoms, dear. They're new -to you, but I've had them over and over again. -The funny part is, Lexie, now it's come to the -point I feel different about you. Although I was -always telling you to climb over the garden wall -to the little boy next door, now that you're half -way up I'm afraid to give you a push. You might -drop into something you didn't expect.... Oh, -Lexie, pet, in my mind's eye I only see you dressed -in white and orange blossoms. It's a damned -shame you shouldn't have them.... And yet, if -you don't, it may be worse later on, because you -know as well as I do that you can't do any good -on the stage all by yourself, and it's better to have -the man you'd have married if you'd been given -the chance than one you don't care a rap about -except for what he can give you. It all sounds -so muddley when I try and put things into words, -but I know what I mean myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stayed a little longer, but, after this, they -both instinctively kept to the shallows of -conversation, avoiding the depths. When she had gone, -Alexandra, as Maggy had prophesied, tore up -her letter. She took a fresh sheet and without -hesitating wrote, "Just when you wish—Alexandra."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she went out and posted it, and, having -betrayed herself, came home and wept bitterly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xl"><span class="large">XL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The crisis of surrender once passed -Alexandra shed no more tears. Not that she -ceased to feel. Indeed, her sensibilities -were all on edge and remained so. But other -feminine instincts soon asserted themselves. One -was the blessed refuge of clothes. Tragedy -notwithstanding, she must make herself presentable. -She thought it would distract her. At first it did -because she had to scheme to make the most of -her dwindling store of wearing apparel. All that -she was rich in were those outer garments -bequeathed to her by Mrs. Lambert. For hours -she adapted this and repaired that, improvising a -pretense at a trousseau. That it was only -pretense burnt itself into her brain. Every ribbon -she threaded through slotted embroidery was not -unlike a tug at her heart strings. All her things -had been marked with her name in full by the -hands of the loved mother who had put every -stitch into them. Well, there would be no change -of name. She tried not to think what the dead -mother, who had treasured her and taught her to -pray, would feel if she could know of the step her -only daughter was about to take. And though -God now seemed to have turned His face from -her, or she hers from God, she thanked Him for -the dead's sake that avowal of it could not be -made. Her mood was one of thankfulness for -small mercies. She no longer rebelled against the -laxity of stage morals. She was going to conform -to them. The stage had deadened her susceptibilities -to right and wrong. She was of it. She -had elected to go the way it pointed. She had -let down the drawbridge of her maidenhood for -the besieging host to walk over as an invited guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the midst of her needlework and her bitter -thoughts there came the sound of feet mounting -the stairs. Mrs. Bell opened the door and -announced "The doctor to see you, Miss Hersey," -in a tone that clearly proclaimed that his visit -provided her with a touch of the same kind of -excitement which she derived from a funeral. -Alexandra was on her feet by this time, painfully -conscious of the litter of garments that lay around -her. Coloring, she gathered them all up in a -heap, and turned to face her lover. He stood -still, impatiently waiting for Mrs. Bell to depart, -and only spoke when the sound of her descending -footsteps had died away. Then he took Alexandra -in his arms and kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I got your note a quarter of an hour ago," -he said. "I couldn't wait. I want to know about -this wretched stage business. How soon can you -get out of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question took her aback. She could not -understand why he should wish her to leave the -stage. She assumed that her connection with it -had been the spur to his desire of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—" she faltered, "do you want me to leave it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> want to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I don't think I ought to, now that I've -made a start—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, my dear child," he interrupted, "you -won't want to work for your living when you're my -wife!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She almost doubted the evidence of her ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you say?" she managed to ask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said: When you're my wife. What else -could you be? You didn't propose to be a sister -to me, did you? I'm impatient, dear. In your -letter you wrote: 'Just when you wish.' Didn't -you mean it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hid her burning face on his shoulder as she -thought of what she had meant. And all the -while his one idea had been marriage! His wife! -Wife! Surely no word ever spoken could be so -full of hallowed significance! ... What would -he think of her if he knew what she had really -meant? Ought she to tell him? Maidenly -modesty counseled reserve, to take what the gods had -given her. But would that be honest? Maggy, -in her position, would have blurted out the truth -at once in her downright way: "Married and -respectable! Oh, my dear, I didn't think you -meant to include that in the program!" or some -such easy phrase. But she was not Maggy, and -words would not come. She heard Meer asking -her how soon she could marry him; heard him -outline a honeymoon in places that would cure her -cough. And all the while she could say nothing. -Meer, as happy as a schoolboy, was making an -inspection of the room. Love lent a glamour to -its cramped proportions and mean appurtenances. -His eyes went to the small bed, resplendent now -by reason of Maggy's eiderdown; an exasperating -little bed nevertheless because it made nearly as -many sleep-dispelling noises as the too obtrusive -cistern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that's where you sleep!" he said softly. -The lacy pillow-case with her monogram on it, -another of Maggy's gifts, lay uppermost. He -bent and kissed it, then laughed diffidently and -moved toward her. She shrank back a step, -making a gesture with her hands that was almost -supplicatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something I must say. I owe it to -you," she said with quick breaths. "You may -not want to marry me when you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw that she was nerving herself to make -some confession. Her connection with the stage -and his own intimate knowledge of it, gained -through professional attendance on many of its -members, brought the disquieting thought that it -might have to do with that ethical laxity that -pervades its atmosphere. But none-the-less his arms -went round her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know the stage is a dashed hard place for a -girl," he said gruffly. "So if it's anything that's -finished and done with don't tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "It's to do with me ... now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not some other man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. Only you; you are the only one there -ever has been, or ever will be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what in the world is wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra's words came tumbling out as though -she feared her courage would evaporate before -she could speak them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said the stage was a hard place for girls. -It is. It's all so wrong everywhere that the idea -of a man proposing marriage is—is a surprise.... -Oh, won't you understand?" She clasped -her hands tensely. "You need not marry me—unless -you want to, because I—didn't expect it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She buried her head for very shame. Her last -words were barely audible. She longed to look -at him to learn what was in his face, but did not dare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meer did not leave her long in doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear," he said, moved to the very heart -of him. "That is between you and me—and God."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xli"><span class="large">XLI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After leaving Alexandra that morning -Maggy had driven to Woolf's club. -They had arranged to lunch together at -some restaurant, but instead he bore her off to her -flat, scarcely vouchsafing a word to her on the way. -That he was in a towering rage she could see -plainly enough. The reason for it she could not -guess. He was apt to lose his temper. At such -times she would tactfully wait until he had calmed -down. Now, however, she was hungry and -wanted her lunch, so she naturally asked for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you think of going for lunch?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her surprise he burst out violently: "Lunch -be damned! You'll have lunch by yourself in -future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter? What have I done?" -she asked, placably enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've found you out, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not another word could she extract from him -until they were in the flat. Coaxing and -gentleness only made him more morose. She began to -feel afraid. What she could not see, because -she did not know that the stage had lost quite a -convincingly bombastic actor in Woolf, was that -much of his anger was assumed; nor did she know -that he was spoiling for a quarrel and that he had -found a very good handle upon which to hang one. -So blinded was she by her devotion that, except for -the fact that since his return she had seen less -of him than usual, she had not observed a certain -weariness in his manner toward her. She did not -at all know what he meant by saying he had found -her out. Hoping to placate him by a show of -affection she made an attempt to kiss him. But -he repulsed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had enough of that," he scowled. "It's -all shammed, and it comes easy to you, my girl. I -was up here half-an-hour ago and I saw your -dressing-case."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she rejoined, "you've seen it before, -haven't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not with a sheet of headed notepaper sticking -out of it—Purton Towers, that swine Chalfont's place!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's face cleared. She thought she knew -now what the storm portended and how to weather it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, is that all?" she said lightly. "I took -it to wrap my toothbrush in, you goose! I was -going to tell you about it all, but I forgot because -I was so happy at having you back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A likely story! You expect me to believe -you forgot to admit you've been carrying on with -Chalfont!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Fred!" she cried, horrified at the allegation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, let's have your expurgated version of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I went there for Christmas with Lexie. And -the Honorable Mrs. Pardiston, his aunt, was there -too. We went to church, and there was a Christmas -tree and a children's party. It was all quite -proper and perfectly glorious. Lord Chalfont -wouldn't do anything that was underhand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you're bound to say that for your -own sake. Look here, Maggy, you needn't tell -me lies. I won't swallow them. You know -perfectly well that if I'd known he'd asked you down -to his rotten place I'd have stopped your going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did think of that, Fred," she admitted; "but -then I knew there was no harm in it, and if I -hadn't gone Lexie wouldn't have been able to, -either; and I wasn't looking forward to spending -Christmas alone here. No flesh and blood girl -could resist a square invitation like that. Why -didn't you take me abroad with you if you couldn't -trust me? I haven't asked you questions about -where you've been or what you did while you were -away. Besides, if it comes to that, husbands and -wives often pay visits apart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you consider yourself particularly qualified -to give an opinion about the habits of married -people?" he sneered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a caddish thing to fling in my face," -she cried indignantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf flinched a little under her flashing eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This quarrel's getting vulgar," he retorted uneasily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's of your making. Look me in the face, -Fred, and you'll see I couldn't tell you a lie. Look -at me, please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did so reluctantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my solemnest word of honor, on my awful -love for you," she said with terrible earnestness, -"I swear to you, Fred, that never once have I been -unfaithful to you, even in thought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never seen Chalfont in town, I suppose?" It -was a chance shot, but Woolf saw that it had -struck home. "Oh, so you have!" he followed -up quickly. "Well—upon my word! That -means, before I went away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. You shan't say I'm deceiving you. I -went to him to borrow some diamonds for Lexie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The astonishing avowal staggered him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a pretty admission!" he laughed satirically. -"Gentlemen are not in the habit of lending -girls diamonds for nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what do you know what </span><em class="italics">gentlemen</em><span> do?" -she retorted, losing control of her temper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she deliberately tried to wound his -self-esteem she could have chosen no better way. -Inadvertently she had touched on the raw. Woolf -would not have admitted it for the world, but deep -down in his consciousness he knew that he was not -a gentleman and had no pretensions to be called -one. What galled him more than all was that -Maggy, whose status would have been considered -a grade lower than his own, must have detected -the social difference between himself and a man -like Chalfont. Accidentally she found the -vulnerable chink in his armor of swagger and -carefully acquired polish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will do," he said, getting up and flushing -darkly. "It's a bit too thick when a girl of your -class sets up to criticise a man of mine. I'm not -a gentleman? Very well, that ends it between you -and me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stark finality of his words and manner made -her tremble all over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean—Oh, my God, Fred, you can't -mean you're done with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's about it.... You've got nothing to -complain of. You'll be better off with Chalfont."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ran to him and held him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't believe there's anything like that," -she cried piteously. "Why, he wouldn't look at -me—not in that way. He knows I belong to you. -If he thinks of me at all it's as he would of the -little East-end children that people take down into -the country for a day. He's a lord and I'm just -common Maggy, and he condescended to be kind -to me. Believe me, Fred, believe me, or I—I -shall die. I can't live without you. You know I -can't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf did believe her. Although he hated -Chalfont and his exclusiveness, which had once -been the means of humbling him, he knew well -enough that because of that very exclusiveness he -would be punctilious in his attitude toward -Maggy. He did not make the mistake of -comparing Maggy's position with that of Mrs. Lambert. -The latter was a woman of some social -standing, separated from her husband. What did -genuinely enrage Woolf was that Chalfont should -be so contemptuous of his, Woolf's, relations with -Maggy that he could be friendly with her in spite -of them. It meant that he was ignored. It was -inconceivable to him that Chalfont's attitude -toward her was largely dictated by a touching respect -for her personality, and pity that she should be -associated with such a man as himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't make a scene," was his unmoved rejoinder. -"We can settle things quite quietly if -you'll be sensible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy felt a fierce desire to scream and laugh -and cry and so break her nightmare by noise. The -cataclysm had come upon her so suddenly; the -break seemed so imminent; her hold over Woolf so -frail. She seemed to have held him by a thread -and that thread had now snapped. Her -sensation was one of absolute shipwreck. She -experienced the very paralysis of actual drowning, -the throbbing of pulses in her head, the suffocation -in her throat, the sense of being entirely -submerged. And just as the drowning person is said -to survey the past with startling clearness so she -now had a rapid mental vista of her brief season -of love and the desolation that would follow it if -Woolf meant what he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm </span><em class="italics">not</em><span> sensible," she pleaded. "You can't -give me up for such a little thing as that. Oh, -you're cruel, cruel!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you're going to be hysterical I shan't stop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His unrelenting manner had a steadying effect -on her. Tortured, but silent, she stared at him. -Could this be the man whom she had been able to -soften and cajole with a mere pose of her body; -the man who had taken possession of her with -such controlling ardor that she was oblivious of -the very details of her capitulation; the man whom -she had loved with such devastating vehemence? -She could see by the utterly unmoved expression -of his face that it was impossible to stir his pity. -There might be a bare chance of exciting his -passion, but a new-born delicacy of feeling in her -prevented an appeal to that side of his nature. She -made a strong effort to keep a hold on herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't be hysterical," she said. "But—I -can't understand why you're going on like this. -You loved me before you went abroad. What has -happened since?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes shifted from her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has happened since?" she repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Woolf would not answer her. He got up and -went to her little inlaid bureau, picked up a pen, -squared his elbows and began writing something. -Quivering with emotion, her breast heaving, her -breath coming in gasping sobs, she stood where -she was, incurious as to what he was doing. -Presently he turned, and placed a piece of paper on the -table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can stay on here till the end of the quarter," -he said. "After that I shall sublet it. And -here"—he pushed the paper toward her—"is a -little present for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took a stumbling step toward him, arms -outstretched, her poor face working.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred! Don't go!" she shrieked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had got to the door. He would go. -Nothing she could say or do would stop him. She -had just enough presence of mind left not to -follow him. Even in that moment of distress she -had the sublime unselfishness to refrain from -making a scene beyond the privacy of the flat—on his -account.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tottered back to the table, clutching at it -for support, stared down at the slip of paper he -had left there—paper with a pretty lacy pattern, -and read:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Pay to</em><span> Miss Delamere ... </span><em class="italics">or order</em><span> Twenty-five pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words danced before her eyes like little -black mocking devils.... </span><em class="italics">Twenty-five pounds</em><span>! -The price which Woolf thought sufficient to buy -her off!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mad now, she scrawled her name on the back -of the cheque, caught up her hat and ran -downstairs into the street. At the corner there -generally stood a miserable woman with a baby, -selling flowers. She was there now. Maggy was a -regular customer of hers. She thrust the cheque -upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's signed on the back. Take it—oh, -take it!" she said wildly, closed the dumfounded -woman's fingers on the cheque, and sped on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went fast, walking aimlessly, conscious of -nothing but the desire for movement. She wanted -to lose herself, to forget herself. Of the things -around her she saw nothing, heard nothing. Her -processes of thought seemed to be exhausted. -Her brain was a mere reservoir of utter hopelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, all the while, it was insensibly driving her -in a given direction. In a dull way she realized -this when she found herself in the street where -Woolf lived. She had never been there since the -day of that eventful lunch with him, seven months -ago. The memory of it had a clarifying effect -on her troubled mind. It calmed her frenzy. -She asked herself what she meant to do, but could -find no answer. She had not consciously intended -going to his house. All motive for doing so was -absent. Yet she could not pass it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rang the bell, and when the door was opened -enquired for Woolf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Woolf is not in, miss," said the servant; -"but Lady Susan is, if you would like to see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy, still mentally benumbed, entered and -followed her.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xlii"><span class="large">XLII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The room Maggy was shown into was -occupied by a woman of about twenty-seven, -busy at the telephone. She looked -up casually, keeping the receiver at her ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take a pew," she said, and addressed herself -to the instrument again, continuing a momentarily -interrupted conversation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was spirited, and apparently had to do with a -bookmaker, for it involved a "pony" on this and -a "pony" on that and a "tenner both ways" on -something else. Several sporting papers, one of -them </span><em class="italics">The Jockey's Weekly</em><span> owned by Woolf, lay -on the table at her elbow, with "Weatherby's" -to keep them company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy did not sit down as invited. There was -something about the woman at the telephone that -gave her a mental stimulus, almost put her on the -defensive. All her torpidity left her. The other -went on speaking into the instrument, interspersing -her instructions with slang and stable-talk. -She was untidily dressed in clothes of an accentuated -sporting cut. Maggy, catching sight of herself -in a mirror, twitched her hat straight, turned -her back and powdered her nose. Then she stood -still, waiting for eventualities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With an "All right, see you on Thursday. -Cheer-O," the woman rang off and swung round -in her chair, bestowing on Maggy a hard-eyed -scrutiny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't think I know you, do I?" she asked. -"And that half-baked woman of mine didn't -announce your name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come to think of it I don't know yours," -returned Maggy, instinctively full of a sense of -antagonism. "She said something about Mr. Woolf -being out and Lady Susan in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right. My name's Susan.... Have -a drink?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy, flabbergasted, said, "No, thank you." She -was puzzling her mind to account for this -young woman's presence in Woolf's house when it -suddenly occurred to her that there could only -be one explanation of it. "You seem to be at -home here," she remarked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's rather cool," the other laughed. "I -</span><em class="italics">am</em><span> at home. Who the deuce d'you think I am?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't an idea. All I know is, you said -your name was Susan, and the maid said you were -a lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This rather wicked thrust only called forth -another laugh, curiously unresentful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, if you want the whole of it, I'm -Lady Susan Woolf, sister of the Earl of -Cantire." Without a trace of </span><em class="italics">mauvaise honte</em><span> the speaker -went on, "You've heard of us, I should think: -the hottest lot in the peerage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy's blank look showed that she was still at -fault.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what relation—" she began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm Mr. Woolf's wife," cut in that lady. -"Are you—the other woman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A quiver, not unlike that which vibrates through -a ship when it runs on a sunken rock, convulsed -Maggy. Like a stricken ship she seemed to hear -the waters of desolation rushing through her vitals. -But she kept her nerve. She would go down, if -she had to, with band playing and flags flying, so -to speak. Not to this woman, who was regarding -her with lazy indifference, would she show the -white feather, admit defeat or desertion. But -Fred secretly married! ... He had lied to get -away on his honeymoon ... and then come back -to her after it! ... The rank infidelity of it -... to two women at once. All Maggy's womanhood -was up in arms, outraged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You use rather odd language," she said with -dreadful calm. "I think I must have come to the -wrong house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you came to see Fred Woolf he lives -here—when he's in." Again the low, lazy laugh -accompanied the rejoinder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do I amuse you?" asked Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not you personally. You look too dashed -serious. Drawing room melodrama sort of -expression. The situation's a bit quaint. Not -many wives would take it calmly when their -husband's pasts come knocking at their front door and -walking in without being asked. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't care. -Daresay some of my old flames will flicker up now -and then. I'm easy-going because it pays. But, -honestly, I hope Fred hasn't left you on the mat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The question was quite devoid of offense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I said I must have come to the wrong house," -reiterated Maggy. "I've only been in this street -once before, and I wasn't sure of the number."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This photograph tell you anything?" Lady -Susan passed one across. "It's Fred's. I think -I hear his gentle footfall in the hall, so you'll know -how things are in a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy braced herself to look at the silver-framed -portrait. She had a facsimile of it at the -flat on the side-table by her bed, signed "Your -warm friend." This one was similarly inscribed. -Evidently Woolf followed a routine in -such matters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard his step outside and his voice calling -"Susan, where are you?" but she did not look up -when he opened the door. Only Lady Susan saw -his startled glance of recognition. It confirmed -what she had already guessed. She watched the -two of them with the zest she would have given -to a prize fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy took her eyes from the photograph and -set it down on the table so that from where he -stood Woolf could see that it was his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I don't know that—gentleman," she -said with calm incisiveness. And then, as if she -had only just become aware of his presence, looked -straight at him. The absence of all recognition -in that look was quite perfectly done. With her -eyes still on him she moved to the door and paused -there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she addressed him in the tone one -adopts toward a person who exhibits a lack of -ordinary manners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you please open the door?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She passed out, band playing, flags flying.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xliii"><span class="large">XLIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Somewhere about three o'clock Maggy -got back to her flat. She was as calm as -death, and knew exactly what she had to do. -In her nature there were few complexities: -intuition guided her most of the time. Now she simply -did not want to live. She was not only heart-broken -because of Woolf's desertion but utterly -crushed in spirit at having discovered that every -foolish ideal with which she had endowed him -had had no existence except in her imagination. -That reflection made her despise herself as much -as she despised him. If the breach could have -occurred without such callous perfidy on his part, -she might still have retained her self-respect. -How much more preferable that would have been, -even though it meant she might have gone on loving him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How she had loved him! She had poured out -to him all the passionate first-love of an -exceedingly ardent nature; she had gloried in him, -suffered for him. She had been content with an illicit -position, even to the extent of refraining from -urging him to legitimize their union when there was -a reason for it—one that would have stirred the -compassion of any other man. She had not -thought herself good enough to be his wife, -because, in effect if not in direct words, he had told -her so. She saw him now as he really was, an -unutterable cad, despicable, utterly snobbish. He -had married with the sole object of associating -himself with a titled family. That it was in bad -odor made no difference to him. To hear the -announcement or to read in print of "Mr. Woolf -and the Lady Susan Woolf" had no doubt been -the prevailing factor with him. It was clear -enough to Maggy. He had not considered her a -fit wife for himself because she was a chorus-girl, -yet he had married a woman infinitely more -common in the slangy sister of a decadent peer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all the time he had been contemplating this -marriage she had made a jest of it, teasing him -about a honeymoon abroad, unwittingly joking -about the terrible truth! To think of it was gall -and wormwood. She had trusted the man. Her -own honesty had made her assume that he was -incapable of deception. Conformity with the easy -code of honor which men generally adhere to, even -in an irregular union, was all she had expected. -It had been denied her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was filled with a distaste for life. It could -be so simply ended. There was a bottle of -laudanum in the cupboard over her washstand. -Without any hesitation she poured its contents into a -tumbler and drank it off. It tasted so nasty that -she ate a chocolate afterwards. Then she locked -her door and lay down on her bed. Nothing in -the world mattered now, not even Alexandra. -She was too weary to think of her, even to analyze -what she believed to be her own last sensations. -Mentally exhausted she fell asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slept from half-past three until half-past -nine, woke up suddenly and felt horribly ill. Her -memory was quite clear. She remembered -everything that had happened that day and what she -had done, and wondered whether she was dead. -A dreadful nausea and discomfort left her in -doubt. Presently she decided she was not dead -but wished she were. She dragged herself to her -feet and, obeying instinct, made herself an emetic. -Though she did not wish to live she wanted to put -an end to her appalling sensations. Later on, she -drank two cups of strong black coffee, and soon -after knew she was recovering. She must have -taken either too little or too much of the horrid -stuff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lay back, waiting for its nauseating effect -to wear off. Half-an-hour passed inertly. Then -abruptly her mind went to Alexandra, and she sat -up. Lexie was on the verge of taking the reckless -step which she, Maggy, had so long been advising, -and Lexie must be stopped. She gave a hurried -look at the clock. Nearly eleven! She might -just catch her at the theater. She flew downstairs, -found a taxi and drove there, just too late. Lexie -had left a few minutes ago. On her way out again -she ran up against the stage-manager.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hullo, Miss Delamere," he began; "what do -you mean by turning up after the show? You -seem quite indifferent to fines." Then he -observed her livid face and the dark circles round her -eyes. "Why, you look like death! What's the -matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing.... Let me go, Mr. Powell. I'll -be all right soon. I want to find Miss Hersey."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tore away, jumped into another cab and -drove to Sidey Street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra was luxuriating in the unwonted -extravagance of a fire. That and the song she was -humming were evidence of a new serenity of mind -that had come to her. She was leisurely undressing, -thinking of her impending marriage, when -Maggy burst into the room, a Maggy whom she -scarcely recognized. She had not been much -concerned at her absence from the theater that night. -She so often played truant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy reeled toward her. Alexandra caught -her in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling, what is it?" she cried in alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy clung to her like a terrified child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie," she gasped, "am I too late? Am I -too late? You haven't—Oh, my God! -Lexie, it isn't worth it. Men—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she fainted. Alexandra got her on -to the bed, loosened her things, and called for -Mrs. Bell. Together they managed to get a little -brandy between her lips. The landlady dabbed -her face with a wet towel; Alexandra held smelling -salts to her nose, and presently she drew the -reluctant breath of returning consciousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please go now," Alexandra requested Mrs. Bell. -"I'll look after her. She shall stay with -me to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bell protested that she wanted to stop. -Her </span><em class="italics">penchant</em><span> for any form of illness enchained -her. She argued that she might be needed, and -only reluctantly left the room when Maggy opened -her eyes and murmured a request to be alone with -her friend. She lay with her face against -Alexandra's shoulder, and then began to cry, weakly -but uncontrollably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie, I've been through Hell since I left -you," she sobbed. "Suddenly I remembered you -and rushed to the theater and then on here. You -mustn't! Promise me you won't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind me, dear. Something has upset -you. Won't you tell me? I shall understand -better then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fred's left me," said Maggy in a cracked -voice. "He's married! ... Never trust a man, -Lexie! Never trust a man! Keep straight if you -starve for it. Promise me you won't go off like -I did. I've come to </span><em class="italics">make</em><span> you promise."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pity kept Alexandra silent. To make that -promise would involve an avowal of her own -happiness. How could she do that in face of the -misery in which her poor friend was sunk?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy clutched at her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A ring!" she cried, fearfully. "On that finger—!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hush, dear! I—I'm quite safe. Believe -me, Maggy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what does it mean? You wouldn't wear -a ring on that finger if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy, darling, it means that I'm going to be -married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy sat up the better to look at her. One -glance at Alexandra's clear, illumined face told -her that in some wondrously blest way her future -had been happily arranged. All thought of her -own disaster temporarily vanished in the joy she -felt for the safety of her friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," she said with a sigh of -relief. "Lexie ... have you got anything to eat?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xliv"><span class="large">XLIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Although she had eaten nothing since -breakfast that morning, a few biscuits and -the remainder of Mrs. Bell's brandy -sufficed Maggy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I'll go," she said, getting up. "I was -in a fearful state about you, but now that -everything has turned out so splendidly I feel quite -all right again. Bless your sweet face, Lexie. -I'd like to kiss you only I'm such a bad -creature." Her lips trembled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! Then I'll kiss you." Alexandra -did so. "You're not going to-night, Maggy. -You've got to stay here with me. We'll tuck in -together. Here's a nightie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tuck in—with you!" Maggy repeated. -"But, Lexie—I'm not—like you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing that's happened can make any -difference between us, Maggy. Try and forget you -ever left me. Get undressed, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very soon they were lying together in the little -bed in the darkness. Alexandra did not talk. -She wanted Maggy to get to sleep. It was so -evident that she needed it. Half-an-hour passed in -silence. A whisper from Maggy broke it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep, Lexie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you enough room?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I have your hand to hold, Lexie? I feel -so lonely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You poor pet!" Alexandra's hand sought hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lexie ... may I tell you things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, if it helps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think anything ever will help. I'm -done for, Lexie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't always feel like that," was the -consoling rejoinder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy sat up in bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tried to kill myself to-day," she said -abruptly. "But the stuff only made me sick. -That's why I wasn't at the theater. I should be -dead by now if it had worked properly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I did. How could I go on living? It's -not worth it. Alone again: a room like this -without even you to make it bearable ... or men. -I won't do that. I went to the bad for love. I -won't do it out of habit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be so despondent. You won't have to -live alone, dear. You shall leave the stage and be -with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it likely?" asked Maggy, with a touch of -her old independence. "I wouldn't tell anybody -but you, but I gave Fred more than he gave me. -It's the meanness of it all that hurts so. There -was the flat, I know, and the car; but they were -only mine so long as he wanted me. And I paid -for the meals I had in the place out of my salary. -He gave me money for dresses because he liked -me showy, but I went to sales and bought bargains, -and what I saved that way I spent on him. And -all the time I gave love, love, love! Oceans of it! -Let me go on. Then, just before you went on -tour I knew I was going to have a baby. Lexie, -I longed for it! I think I'm the sort of woman -that's meant to have babies without much pain or -trouble, just for the sheer joy of mothering them -and kissing their dear, pink, crumply palms. But -Fred was annoyed about it. I told him he could -put me in a laborer's cottage in the country and -I'd live on ten shillings a week if only he would let -me be a mother. Mrs. Lambert knew. I told -her.... I had to go to a dreadful place in -Bayswater until—until it was over.... Fred -arranged everything. He seemed to know all about -it. And I wasn't even a mother, Lexie. I nearly -died. I wish I had. And when I was back again -with Fred, instead of hating him it somehow made -me feel more than ever bound up with him in my -heart, because of having gone through so much -for him. He was quite kind to me afterwards, -almost tender for him. He used to bring me -flowers. I wonder why. He couldn't have loved -me.... But now it's all over...."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alexandra put her arms round the shaking girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lie still," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held Maggy to her as she would have held -a child, and kissed her and cried over her in sheer -pity, so stirred was she by the heartrending story. -Presently Maggy lay very still, breathing evenly, -asleep in Alexandra's arms. But Alexandra lay -awake for a long time, trying to find a reason for -the discrepancies of life. Why, for her, should -there be provided a haven of safety, and for -Maggy nothing but a desolate sea with breakers ahead?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mutely, she prayed to the Providence that had -tided her over so many storms to safeguard -Maggy until she, too, made harbor in calm and -peaceful waters. Praying, she feel asleep and did -not stir when, some hours later, Maggy awoke -and gently disengaged herself from the encircling arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy sat up. By the light of the street lamps -she could just make out Alexandra's peaceful face. -She looked so happy and innocent. Maggy -watched her for a long time very fondly. It was -the only way in which she could bid her farewell, -a long and final one. For Maggy intended -making no mistake this time. She had dreamt of what -she meant to do. The dream had been inspired -by the noises in the street, and it still obsessed her. -The thunder of heavy wheels resounded in her -ears.... She was going to employ a monster -crushing power to blot herself out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very quietly and silently she got out of bed and -groped for her clothes. Dressed, she hovered -for a moment over Alexandra's sleeping form, -bent and touched her forehead with her lips -... and crept out in search of her Juggernaut car.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="xlv"><span class="large">XLV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Maggy intended making for Covent -Garden. She had once seen it in the early -hours after a fancy-dress ball to which -Woolf had taken her, and she had marked the -leviathan motor-lorries, freighted with perishable -produce, converging on it. She meant to end her -troubles under the wheels of one of these. The -drug had failed her because of her ignorance of -the fatal dose. This would be a sure and decisive -way. In her dream it had seemed so feasible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There would be something fitting in such an end. -The very monstrousness of the ponderous vehicle -was symbolical of the violence of the feeling that -she had had for Woolf, the strength of passion -that had drawn her to him. Her spirit had -succumbed to strength and violence: strength and -violence should annihilate her body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The deserted streets were very silent. Maggy -wandered along them, insensibly diverging from -her route. She was thinking dully of a scene that -long ago had made a dreadful impression on her -mind. It had been a disconnected incident at the -time: now its significance was almost personal. -She had once seen a number of dogs pursuing a -small mongrel, typical of the ownerless cur that -gets its living in the streets. It was looking over -its shoulder, heedless of the traffic. A motor-lorry -came along at top speed. The mongrel made an -unexpected dart across its track. There was an -agonizing yelp, suddenly cut short; and though -Maggy had quickly averted her eyes she had not -been able to avoid witnessing the canine tragedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A shudder went through her at the recollection -of it, a shudder of pity for the dog, not of -apprehension for herself. She was too wretched to feel -fear; but she was very weary and to some extent -stupefied. When, therefore, she found herself in -Portland Place instead of Covent Garden she was -indifferent at having wandered in the wrong -direction. She hardly met a soul. It was too late for -night-prowlers and still too early for those who -steal a march upon the day's work. An occasional -policeman was all she came across. One flashed -his lantern in her face, but satisfied by the serious -look on it and her appearance generally, took no -further notice of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to her that she had been walking -interminably before the silence of the streets was -broken by any sound of traffic. She had crossed -the top of Regent Street, gone on due west by -Cavendish Square and Wigmore Street, and was -now in one of the turnings that give on Great -Cumberland Place. At the corner a lighted -doorway and an awning over the pavement told of a -dance in progress. One or two carriages and a -motor car were drawn up before the house. She -did not look up as she passed it, but she slackened -her pace when it was behind her, for she had heard -the sound of a heavy vehicle. A slowly-moving -van drawn by horses lumbered across the top of -the turning. There surely she would find her -</span><em class="italics">coup de grâce</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood in Great Cumberland Place, listening. -The faint rumble of the morning traffic coming -along Edgware and Bayswater Roads was audible -now. Presently it was silenced by a nearer sound, -the reverberation of machinery. It was coming -at last. She kept on the edge of the pavement -waiting and listening, trying to discern the -advancing monster. The clank and rattle of it filled -the wide street with stridulous echoes. She moved -into the roadway, telling herself that she must -make no mistake, give it no chance of avoiding her. -She stood still, nerving herself for the moment of -impact. It was very close now; its noise deafened -her; a breath of hot metal filled her nostrils....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Now!</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood poised, her body bent forward ready -for the spring; and at that moment a heavy hand -fell on her, jerked her roughly back and held her -while the motor-lorry thundered by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go!" she muttered thickly, pulling -ineffectually against a uniformed arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, that I shan't," was the firm rejoinder. -"Trying to do for yourself, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was crossing the road," she gasped, maddened -by this second defeat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stars in their courses seemed to be fighting -against her. Why should they prevent her taking -her worthless life? And now, to add to her -inflictions, she was in the grip of a policeman. She -would be charged, cautioned, watched, so that -another attempt would be well-nigh impossible. -Besides, she wanted to make it now, while the -madness was upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Crossing the road," she repeated. "Here -comes a gentleman. He must have seen me. -He'll believe me, if you won't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She said it to gain time, in the hope that the -policeman would relax his hold, so that she might -run away. But though he took her suggestion, he -gave her no chance of escaping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, sir, did you witness this young -lady step off the pavement sudden-like in front of -that there lorry?" he inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pedestrian, thus addressed, came to a stop. -Maggy stared at him. The street lamp at the -corner was behind him. But while she stared a -motor car slipped past, the beam of its headlights -full on his face, and she caught her breath as their -eyes met—hers and Chalfont's. He was clearly -too astonished to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He—the constable—thinks I was going to -commit suicide, I believe," said Maggy, conjuring -up a laugh that made Chalfont shiver. "It's -fortunate you came along, Lord Chalfont. Please -assure him I'm much too level-headed to do -anything like that. I—I'm on my way home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No part of her statement convinced him, but he -took care that neither she nor the policeman should -see that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I," he said in the most ordinary tone. -"This lady is a friend of mine, constable. Here's -my card. You've erred a little on the side of -discretion, but that's excusable considering how dark -it is. I'll see her home myself. Good morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The policeman looked at the card and then -touched his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, m'lord. I apologize to the young -lady for the mistake. At this hour of the night if -we're not very careful—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," said Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took Maggy's arm, holding it almost as -tightly as the policeman had done, and walked her -on in the direction of the Marble Arch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you," she said in a subdued tone when -they had gone a dozen paces. "Now I can -manage to—to go on by myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think so," he rejoined sternly. -"What are you doing, wandering about at this -time of night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I might as well ask you the same question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can answer it. I have just left a friend's -house—a late affair—fortunately for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why fortunately for me?" she asked, trying -to assume an air of innocent resentment. -"You're making too much fuss about a mistake -in crossing the street."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, still holding her, compelling her to -look at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy, are you going to tell me lies?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she choked, lowering her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—" Chalfont did not proceed with -what he was about to say. A taxi was passing and -he hailed it. "I'll take you to your flat," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, not there! I'm never going there -again!" she cried, drawing back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That she had some potent reason for that -decision was evident to him. He did not ask her -what it was. He guessed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that case," he said, "you must come to -my house. I'm not going to leave you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His determined tone put a stop to her spirit of -rebelliousness. Passively she got into the cab and -sat silent in its obscurity. When it stopped -Chalfont opened his door with a latchkey. His -servants had gone to bed, but in the room where -Maggy had breakfasted with him there were -sandwiches and consommé. He helped her to some -of this, and she, beyond resistance now, took it. -Then she shrank into the depths of the big chair -which he had drawn up to the fire for her. She -was unconscious of the tears of weakness that were -welling from her eyes. Her hair had come down -and was tumbled over her shoulders. Emotion -had played havoc with her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont, watching her, was stirred by feelings -that had their birth in pity. If they were -gathering force, changing into others more personal, -more tender, there was nothing of disloyalty to the -memory of the dead woman on whom he had once -lavished great affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy," he said quietly, "he has left you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted heavy eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How—how did you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought it would come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dry sob broke from her. Then she said: -"He really was on his honeymoon.... Did you -know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. But a few days ago I heard something.... -I knew he was very thick with Cantire. -I saw it coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; I see.... I had to find out for myself.... -Well, it's finished now." She stared -blankly in front of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you care so terribly?" he asked, after a pause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "That's dead, I think. -Everything's dead except myself, and I want to be. -I can't stand it: the hardness—and the loneliness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you were brave."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not when I don't want to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm lonely too," he said; "but I haven't -turned my back on life, partly because your advice -helped me when I was feeling very down. Don't -you think suicide is rather a craven thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps.... I shall have to go on living -now, I suppose," she admitted dully. "Oh, damn -that policeman! I should have been pulp by this -time! That's the second failure. I took -laudanum this afternoon, and was only sick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Chalfont went over to her chair, sat on its -arm-rest and took one of her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you think we have something in common?" -he said, and waited for a reply that should -warrant him speaking more definitely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rested her head against his shoulder like -one who is spent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You make me feel peaceful," she murmured. -"I wish you would give me some poison and let -me die while you held me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You tragic person!" He tried to speak -lightly. "You'll laugh at yourself, later on.... -I want you to live."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll live," she consented. "It's only a -matter of breathing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must promise me that—and something else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right. What's the else?" Her voice -was unutterably tired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything, in effect. I'm not good at -explaining, but, first of all, I want you to understand -that I honor you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Maggy sat bolt upright. Two fierce spots of -color came into her cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Also," he continued, "that from the beginning, -ever since I first met you, even when you -made that admission about—him, I always -thought of you apart from him, as Maggy—the -nice girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maggy—the nice girl!" she echoed in wonder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you came down to Purton Towers I -seemed to see you as belonging there. Even after -you had gone I felt that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—how could I belong to Purton -Towers?" she asked in a wondering voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By marrying me," he said very deliberately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him blankly for a few seconds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marry you!" she faltered. "</span><em class="italics">Me</em><span>—marry you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose," he went on, "suppose I said I -needed you? I do say it. I believe that we can -bring something into each other's lives that at -present is missing, and perhaps always has been. -We should, at any rate, be very perfect friends. -That would be something."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All her face lit up. Her lips quivered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an idea! Me and you! At breakfast, -at dinner—always.... Purton Towers, and -me—your wife! Oh, you dear, I do believe you -mean it! As if I could! But I tell you what: -let me live in a little cottage in the grounds and -sell eggs!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Maggy, you child!" he said tenderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes brimmed over. She took his hand -and kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you so much," she said. "But it's—it's -not in the picture. What sort of a wife -should I make? No, it wouldn't do.... And -there are other reasons."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ada Lambert?" he asked gently. "Is that -one of them? I loved her as a young man loves -the first good woman who comes into his life. I -don't think I do her any disloyalty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's not that. What difference could that -make? If I could I would make you happy -because you lost her. It's me. I don't come from -a good man. I wouldn't let any one say that -except myself. I loathe what he's done to me and -the way he's treated me. But I've loved him. -There's something I gave him I can never get -back. It's strange: though I never want to hear -of him or see him again, I don't want anything -bad to happen to him. I should be sorry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand," nodded Chalfont. "But it -need not stand between you and me, Maggy. We -should start fair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ghost of a smile flickered on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think of the racket there would be in the -papers about us! You would be ashamed. And -I'm not worth it, really. 'Another peer weds -actress. Romance of the stage. The third this -season. Below we append other instances of -brilliant marriages of stage beauties.' Think of it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fancy we could keep it out of the papers," -he said. "We would be married in the country—in -church."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In church!" Her eyes grew misty. "You -would—go to church with me? Oh, my dear, -that would be more of my dream coming true, like -the cedar trees and the cows!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's going to come true," declared Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held him away from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't tempt me. It's not the title. That's -only—funny. Me, my lady! What tempts me -is the thought of being with you in that place where -my heart is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded, appeared to be considering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is this," she said. "If I married you -I would do my best to try and be a lady—not -vulgar. I think, after a little, it would come -easy.... You said we should be perfect friends; -but suppose—suppose I couldn't help loving you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was asking myself if that would come about—hoping -it. In my case it is an eventuality not -very remote."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His very quietness impressed her. She knew -he was not demonstrative, yet behind every word -he spoke the intensity of his feelings was manifest -to her. She had to fight hard to keep in check the -ferment of emotion he had stirred in her. She -picked up her hat from the chair where she had -been sitting on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It might have been more crushed," she said -quaintly, but with a meaning that had a hint of -tragedy averted in it. She went to a mirror and -began arranging her tumbled hair. "I must go -back to Lexie. I stole out while she was asleep. -Perhaps I shall get there before she wakes up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take you," he said. "Only—aren't you -going to give me an answer first, Maggy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made a last desperate and unsuccessful effort -at calmness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—but I'm not worth having," she sobbed -and collapsed in a crumpled heap at his feet. -"Don't stop me!" she gasped, waving him away. -"Let me—</span><em class="italics">burst</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Chalfont stood where he was, waiting -while her pent-up feelings exhausted themselves -in a flood of choking tears, until she should be -ready for him. Presently her sobs ceased. She -struggled to her knees; her hands were clasped; -her face, with a faint presage of happiness upon -it, was turned to the window where the dawn of -a new morning glimmered. Her lips moved. -She was murmuring something beneath her breath. -"What are you saying, dear?" he asked gently. -"I—I think I'm saying my prayers," she -answered huskily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There, on her knees, with her hair still hanging -in disorder, the tears drying on her face, thanksgiving -and humility in her heart, she repeated the -words of her rhymed creed, with a reverence that -surely gave it the consecration of a prayer.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"All's well with the world, my friend,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And there isn't an ache that lasts;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>All troubles will have an end,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>And the rain and the bitter blasts.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>There is sleep when the evil is done,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>There's substance beneath the foam;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And the bully old yellow sun will shine</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Till the cows come home!"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She held out her arms to Chalfont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lift me up," she whispered.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE HONEY-POT</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42531"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42531</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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