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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-07-03 10:48:57 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2026-07-03 10:48:57 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/79009-0.txt b/79009-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..778e1c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9423 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79009 *** + + + [Cover Illustration] + +[Illustration: _In the Tower Room._] + + + + + A + SERVANT OF REALITY + + + BY + PHYLLIS BOTTOME + Author of “The Dark Tower,” “The Second + Fiddle,” “Helen of Troy and Rose,” etc. + + ILLUSTRATED BY + NORMAN PRICE + + + + + NEW YORK + THE CENTURY CO. + 1919 + + + + + Copyright, 1919, by + THE CENTURY CO. + + + _Published, October, 1919_ + + + + + TO + BETTY AND MAIDA + + + + + LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + 1. In the Tower Room + + 2. Daphne pushed him back into his chair and knelt beside + him + + 3. He did not know what was left of him or what was Kitty + + 4. There was no curtain left between Anthony and his pain + + 5. Like one of the June butterflies that haunt the down + country + + + CHAPTER I + +Anthony Arden closed his eyes; he was trying to let the unutterable +misery of two years slip from him. It was over; it was all over, as over +as an extracted tooth, but he could not yet feel relief or exultation. +These feelings must come later, when he saw England. When he closed his +eyes he escaped seeing the very fat, red neck, passing without gradation +into the round-shaped head of his German guard. + +In two hours he would be over the frontier into Holland and have no +guard. He kept saying to himself, “Free! free! free!” The word sounded +perfectly meaningless. Fears assailed him; he was quite used to fears, +ordinary fears about food, vermin, a bullying sergeant, or the collapse +of a fellow-prisoner. These were reasonable fears; the new kind were +not. They were too much like hopes; they were really terrible. + +He had never been one of the men who collapsed; but he knew all about +collapses. He had fought them as St. Paul fought with the beasts at +Ephesus. + +He knew their beginnings, the ominous vacillations of the will, when a +man could wait for a quarter of an hour before deciding which foot to +put his boot on. This would be the prelude to a fearful lethargy. +Anthony had watched the restlessness of the driven body before the mind +suddenly ceased to drive it; the rush and flutter of the helpless +thoughts till the interludes came; the blank spaces when the thoughts +subsided, and the thinker, exhausted, overwrought, and trembling, would +appeal to him for drugs. Bromide was useful if there was any tiding over +to be done, but too often it edged stupor with despair, and one could +seldom tide over the illimitable seas of prolonged imprisonment. + +Anthony was a wonderful hand at keeping people up. Even the Germans +appreciated his power, and as they had by that time learned to prefer +sane prisoners to mad ones, they gave him all the drugs he asked for and +freedom to apply what other methods occurred to him. + +Anthony had entered the war as one of the fighting forces; but in +another life, a strange, safe, horizonless, dignified world, where men +thought and acted without compulsion and knew next to nothing of fear, +he had been a rising young surgeon with an unshakable nerve. He was the +type of man who always rises; he could absorb himself in his aims and +control his desires and yet escape the tyranny of self. + +The universe was his center; he was not the center of the universe. He +had no use for emotions and was not easily put out. He loved his home +and went there very seldom. He disagreed with his father whenever they +met, and wrote to his mother regularly once a week, on half-sheets of +paper, without telling her anything. + +Daphne, his favorite sister, infuriated and delighted him; he +disapproved of everything she did, and generally found himself helping +her to do it. His eldest brother Tom, he never wrote to, seldom saw, and +loved ineradicably. Anthony would not have called it “love,” neither +would Tom; but neither would have hesitated an instant to die for the +other. Tom had been killed. There was a third brother, Henry, cleverer +than Tom, who fortunately had varicose veins. Owing to this he knew +nothing about the war except what he was told and what he had gathered +from the newspapers. He had a flat in London. Anthony was going there +now. + +London! He didn’t really believe in it; that was why he shut his eyes to +see it better. While he was a prisoner he had never dared to make +pictures he could see; that was one of the ways in which men collapsed. +They got to seeing things; quite sensible things at first, things that +were there. Then they started seeing things that were not. It was always +better to keep one’s eyes fixed on little, every-day facts. + +Anthony knew that London was safe. Zeppelins had done their best, +aëroplanes had touched London as a boy’s catapult drops pebbles into a +field. You had to hunt to find the pebbles; the field remained placidly +unshaken. + +Daphne always slipped into her letters, “Funny old London is just the +same.” It was one of the faults he used to find with Daphne that she +overlooked the essential, but he had not known how realistic it made +letters. All his people had been wonderful about writing; they had +arranged it among themselves so that somebody, even if it was only an +aunt, wrote to him every day in the week. And they had thought of +everything in the way of parcels. + +There had been six months’ hell first. Hell is a place where you are +forgotten by all you love and remembered by all you hate. Fortunately, +this was at the beginning, when Anthony had his self-control intact, +except for the first forty-eight hours. Anthony hadn’t been +self-controlled then, but he had not expected to have his broken leg +kicked. It had startled him very much. He had resented it, and they had +hurt him. They had hurt him so that when he remembered it he began to +tremble all over and to feel like ice. It wasn’t the actual physical +pain alone; it was the cruelty and the surprise. It was such a strange +feeling, to be quite powerless and hated, especially when one had lived +a particularly normal and kindly life and never known anything about +hate. + +Hate is such a funny, medieval little word, like devil or hell; it means +nothing till one has tried it. When Anthony was a young man and knew +everything, and had learned nothing, he had laughed at these little +medieval words. He had called them, rather proudly, to his mother, +“theological nursery toys,” and she had said, “I wonder.” But he +wouldn’t have believed then that men could cry like children, or stop +crying and go to pieces—utterly to little pieces before other men’s +eyes. He hadn’t supposed, either, that other men could laugh at them or +have such cruel eyes. + +It had shot through him once or twice, during those first six months, +that he had believed, actually believed, that people always behaved like +human beings. He might just as well have swallowed the old story of +Jonah and the whale. It was much better afterward. He himself had helped +to make it better; he hadn’t realized his own struggles. It just seemed +very gradually to have got bearable; and when it was bearable, he had +discovered that he was old. + +All the top of his short, tight curls were gray, he could walk straight +with a very slight limp, and hold his head up; but his keen, gray eyes +were not as steady as they used to be, and if any one spoke loudly, he +jumped, or if they moved near him quickly, he flinched like a beaten +dog. Yes, he knew all about hate, and when the letters and the parcels +broke through, and he found the other world still existed and he was +remembered, passionately remembered and loved, just as if he were alive, +he learned something about love. + +His mother ceased to be a not very clear-thinking, extremely +old-fashioned, middle-aged lady who had lived in the country all her +life, and who would keep asking him to go to church; she became instead +a steady hand to hold on to in a darkened room. + +And as for Daphne, incapable, inconsequent, and most flirtatious Daphne, +who forgot everything and never answered any one, and was always doing +what she had much better not, and suggesting you should bear the +consequences of it because you were so sensible, he couldn’t have told +any one what Daphne meant to him. She never forgot a post, and knew +mysteriously the very moods in which he would meet her letters, and she +would go on being just what she always was, only regularly. Her very +voice reached him, like a lark singing under his window at dawn. It was +her letter he got first about Tom; he always saw it in her words, but as +if she had first put her own heart between him and the blow. + +It was incredible to him that he could once have thought it a bore to go +down to Pannell for week-ends. The whole of his body and all his being +ached for home. Every night for a few minutes before he slept, if sleep +were possible, he had allowed himself to think of Pannell. First, the +railway station “Boscott,” with its blue lobelias picked out with white +chalk stones by Tuppins, the station-master. Then Daphne with her hair +half down her back, because she’d driven the pony in by herself and it +“hadn’t exactly” bolted; then, beyond Daphne’s hair and eyes, the line +of the downs, sometimes swathed in milky mists, and sometimes very firm +and velvety under a fleet of flying clouds. Boscott was a small village +with yellow barns dropped in a hollow. + +Pannell Manor was in Pannell woods. There was an open space for it, and +the downs rose up in front of it. The church had been built at its gate, +on a lawn with flitting shadows of deer. The deer slipped delicately in +and out of patches of bracken. A wall separated them from the smooth +green terrace in front of the house, but you could always look over it +toward the downs, and watch the deer steal between the trees. + +Pannell was an Elizabethan house, and the front of it was a mass of +tall, thin windows shining out of old gray and yellow stone. It had +suited Tom to perfection. It made Anthony sick to remember how it had +suited Tom. It would be Anthony’s now, and he wasn’t a landowning type; +he would simply have to do what he could with it in the intervals of his +profession. Unfortunately, Pannell wasn’t a place with which to do +things at intervals. It wanted the steady landlore of a practical, +unimaginative Sussex man. It wanted Tom. It had always belonged to +people like Tom; slow, patient, good-natured people who knew how to +leave things alone and never hurried anything except a fox. The land +would have to miss them for a generation now, because most of them were +dead. + + * * * * * + +They were at the frontier at last. Anthony got out on to the platform +with several other men. They all looked dazed and a little +uncomfortable, and tried to pretend that they knew how to move about on +platforms and get freely, without shouted directions, into trains. +Fortunately, the Dutch guards helped them. + +They had very little to say to one another. They lit cigarettes with +shaking hands and grinned nervously when they met one another’s eyes. Of +course they were enjoying themselves awfully and weren’t afraid of an +accident on the train or the boat going down or suddenly finding they +were dying of some acute disease, and couldn’t get home first. It was +absurd to suppose that they could have such fears, for they were all +quite ordinary young Englishmen who had been in German prisons only a +few years. They were perfectly all right, really; they had made a point +of saying this in all their letters home. + +Anthony knew exactly how they felt. He advised them to get a drink, but +they were all too afraid of missing their connection, which couldn’t +start for half an hour. Anthony forced himself to go into the +waiting-room and order a drink. He was very proud of still being able to +make himself do things, and a little self-conscious about it. He had +forgotten the time when he wasn’t self-conscious and never had to make +himself do perfectly obvious things. + +They took the journey through Holland by moonlight. The country +stretched out in a sheet of silver; water and land melted together into +a delicate mist. The windmills moved across it like the black wings of +strange, inanimate birds. There were no walls and no barbed wire; just +wide-open spaces, with a low, broad sky above them. + +They got on to the boat at midnight, and some one said it was England +already, for boats were always England. There were a few wives who had +not been able to wait for their husbands to reach England. They met them +shyly and without words; and afterward, Anthony noticed, even though +they were together, they still had a look of stubborn longing in their +eyes. + +Anthony was not going to be met at all; he had arranged everything with +Henry. He would go to Henry’s rooms for a night and just hear how +everything was and be told about Tom; that would make things easier for +his mother. He would go down to Pannell next day; he had particularly +said he didn’t want Daphne to come up. He wanted to get into things +gradually. + +There could be no possible danger of the boat sinking; he told several +fellows who asked him that all the accursed mines were swept away, the +seas were free. They were English and they were free. Of course he +didn’t say this, nor did the other men; they merely felt it moving +stubbornly in their hearts without words. + +Anthony fully intended to go to sleep. He had wired for a berth, and the +other men were quiet as mice; but he was under the impression that none +of them slept; they were all quite ready to run up on deck if by any +chance one of the mines had been overlooked. His idea had been to get up +very early and watch the cliffs creep close across the sea. He +remembered a poem of Macaulay’s which he had learned as a boy—it was +called “The Jacobite’s Epitaph” and was a short reticent poem, with a +line in it which had always haunted him,— + + By those white cliffs I never more may see— + +Well, he wanted to see them; but when the boat arrived, England was lost +in a blur of rain. He saw nothing but a solid wall of grayness rising up +in front of him. The other men were on deck very early, too; apparently +the same idea had occurred to them, but none of them said anything about +Macaulay’s poetry. + +It took an eternity to get alongside the wharf, and lots of accidents +might have happened. Nobody spoke except the youngest of them, who had +been in prison only a few months, and he remembered that it would be +jolly to get a good hot cup of tea, and wondered if they still made dear +old moldy buns. + +There was no cheering to greet them, because they were not the first +boat-load of prisoners to reach England, and it was particularly early +in the morning. But there were two trains waiting, small, comfortable +English trains that ran on velvet lines through an endless expanse of +wet, green fields. + +Two hours later the London Terminus closed on them like a large black +shell. Nobody took any notice of them; they weren’t, of course, any +different from anybody else, except that they weren’t quite so smart at +picking up a taxi as people who haven’t been in German prisons. They let +opportunities slip. + +Anthony was one of the first to get one. He shook hands with several of +the fellows who hadn’t been specially met, and gave a lift to a +particularly bewildered looking boy who had forgotten where he lived for +the moment, but thought they’d remember it for him at the Oxford and +Cambridge Club. He was very proud because, although he had forgotten his +address, he could remember his own name perfectly. + +Anthony wanted to explain to the boy that they had got back into a world +where people were in the habit of remembering their own names, and that +they must try to appear as much like ordinary people as possible. But +when Anthony began to explain, he was brought up short, because he +realized that he himself couldn’t quite remember how ordinary people +behaved. + +Just as the quick, organized traffic in the streets was a dangerous blur +to his unaccustomed eyes, so were those old unconscious ways of normal +people a strange, a perilous blur to his insecure and unaccustomed +senses. + +Fortunately, some one at the club did remember the boy’s address, but +there was no one who could fill in the curious unexpected gaps in +Anthony’s hidden mind. + + + CHAPTER II + +Civilization had gone to pieces, but outwardly London looked just the +same. The winding loops of traffic weaved their perpetual chain, checked +by imperturbable, blue policemen; picture palaces and public houses, +congested tubes and swinging ’buses, the long, blue shadows of the dusk +and the arched lights of the street corners, had no new secrets to +reveal. The husks of everything Anthony saw were mercilessly indifferent +to change. + +But surely the people would be different? People cannot pass through +hell and keep their values of life the same; they cannot lose security +and not gain a certain spiritual significance. + +It was startling to Anthony to find that Henry had not altered at all; +he did not even look older. He lived in the same charming rooms, full of +old French china. Henry could not afford good pictures, so he had very +wisely limited himself to excellent prints. His books neither frightened +the unreading public nor shocked the cultivated. Henry had kept an +expensive cook, and during the war by her help had evaded food +difficulties while keeping patriotically within his rations. There was +no track once beaten that Henry did not follow; nor had he ever found it +difficult to believe what he knew to be generally accepted. He shook +hands with Anthony with some emotion, and asked twice how he was. + +“This is really tremendous,” Henry exclaimed, “quite tremendous.” The +situation promptly dwindled under his qualifying adjectives. “By Jove! +what a lot we shall have to talk over! How does it feel to be back?” + +“I can’t tell you yet,” said Anthony, sinking into a luxurious arm-chair +before the fire. “Physically it’s comfortable. I’ve often thought of +this arm-chair.” + +Henry said, “My dear fellow!” deprecatingly. He hoped he wasn’t going to +hear too much about hardship; he always skipped what he referred to as +“literary horrors” in the accounts of war correspondents. “Things,” as +he often used to say without specifying what things, “were quite bad +enough without unduly harrowing one’s feelings.” + +“We’ll have dinner in a minute,” Henry continued cheerfully, “and then +we’ll make history. Of course I know everybody has written regularly to +you, but it’s quite extraordinary how facts drop out one way or another +in correspondence—quite important little facts.” + +“I haven’t written everything back,” observed Anthony in a queer, tired +voice, which sounded thick. “You see, I couldn’t—lots of things. I +couldn’t; but I dare say they don’t matter now.” + +“I knew you’d take a sensible view,” Henry agreed eagerly. “It’s no use +raking over old troubles, is it? I assure you we’ve all had hardships to +bear as well; air raids, for instance, _most_ unpleasant and so noisy. +The servants felt it a great deal. The one thing that has kept me up +during the last few years has been the spirit of cheeriness. I’ve +insisted upon taking a bright view of things, and I’ve found it paid; +over and over again I’ve found it paid.” + +“You would find it pay,” Anthony agreed after a short pause, looking +round the room with curious, inattentive eyes. “And none of the china +has been broken, has it? It seems to me I remember all the pieces.” + +“No,” Henry replied; “Mary is very careful, you know. I shouldn’t let +her touch them if she wasn’t. Some of this is priceless.” + +“Quite right,” agreed Anthony. “Only being careful doesn’t always +prevent things from being broken, does it? There’s an awful lot of luck +in what breaks and what doesn’t. D’you mind, before we have dinner, +telling me what’s known about Tom?” + +Anthony moved as he spoke, and crouched forward a little over the fire +as if he were cold. Henry couldn’t see his face; he was privately +shocked at the thin, rather weak, and shaky look of his restored +brother. + +Anthony had not kept his spirit up; he had lost smartness in a manner +that, if it was pitiable, was also annoying to a relative who had been +prepared to be proud of him. And it showed a certain lack of tact upon +Anthony’s part to ask Henry about Tom before dinner. + +“I expect,” Henry said in a grave, constrained voice, which indicated +deep feeling without transgressing good taste, “you know practically all +there is to know already. Tom was acting as Forward observing officer in +one of the woods on the Somme. It is a little confusing, as no one +actually saw what took place, but they suppose a shell caught him and +his telephonist. The messages stopped, and when they advanced they found +the bodies. The major wrote, of course, and several of his +brother-officers. Mother will show you all the letters. Dear old Tom, he +did his duty like—” + +Henry stopped abruptly. He was going to say a Briton or a hero; a burst +of most appalling profanity checked him. + +He stared blankly at the crouched and blasphemous figure in front of the +fire. Anthony cursed steadily and monotonously for several seconds. He +seemed beyond his own control; then he pulled himself together. + +“I beg your pardon, old man,” he stammered. “I—I—my nerves, you know; +that was why I wanted to have my home-coming over gradually. Don’t pay +any attention to me. I’ll be all right in a minute. What I want to know +is, How long was it between the time they got Tom’s last message and +found the body? That’s all I want to know.” + +“Have a whisky and soda,” Henry murmured sympathetically. “Of course +it’s quite natural you should be upset; it would have been better to go +into all this after dinner. As far as I can make out—the major was a +little vague—there were three days before they actually found the body; +but of course Tom was killed instantly. All of them said so in their +letters. It was a great comfort to us to feel that there could have been +no actual suffering—my God! Anthony! don’t laugh like that! It doesn’t +sound human; it really doesn’t. Here, take this whisky and soda!” + +Henry had to force the glass between Anthony’s stiffened lips. He was +bowed and contracted with his unearthly laughter. His hands shook as if +he were in an ague; his whole body shook. Henry had never been in such a +situation in his life, and all of it was perfectly unnecessary. Tom had +been dead two years. Then Anthony gasped out: + +“Thanks. Yes, that’s what I wanted to know—three days.” The whisky and +soda had quieted him. He stopped trembling. + +Mary came in and announced dinner. + +Henry asked Anthony considerately if he would like to wait five minutes, +but Anthony, without any consideration whatever, replied that he was as +hungry as a wolf. He really did seem very hungry, and ate like a wolf, +but he drank nothing. Henry heard him say in a whisper that was +perfectly audible: + +“If I drink anything, I shall go to pieces. If I drink anything, I shall +go to pieces.” + +Henry looked anxiously at Mary, but her eyes were intent upon a green +vegetable, over which she noiselessly readjusted one of Henry’s solid +silver spoons. Anthony did not notice Mary at all, but in helping +himself he dropped the spoon. + +When they were back again in Henry’s drawing-room, Anthony moved +restlessly about and tried to pull the curtains to look out of the +window. + +Henry said: + +“Sit down, my dear old chap,” and Anthony sat down with a jerk, as if +some one had pulled him. + +“I don’t know if you would like me to run over the terms of Tom’s will,” +Henry suggested. “I suppose we must dip into business some time or +other, but perhaps—” + +“Run over anything you like now,” said Anthony. He leaned back in his +arm-chair and closed his eyes, but he wasn’t asleep. He followed Henry’s +excellent account of business affairs with his old clear-cut attention. +Henry was greatly relieved at the questions Anthony shot out at him. He +went on to speak of Pannell. + +“It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were home for a time to look after +things,” Henry suggested. “Father has lost grip. You’ll notice a +difference in him, and in mother, too. The strain upon those who +remained at home has been greater perhaps than you fellows quite +realize.” Henry sighed a little reproachfully. He wanted Anthony to +understand that he had not been the only one to suffer; he felt that +self-pity would be very bad for a man of Anthony’s type. “I mustn’t +weaken him by my sympathy,” Henry reminded himself. + +“Yes,” said Anthony, without opening his eyes. “If people realized it, +it must have been—I was going to say worse for them; but mercifully +we’re so built that what we don’t see reaches only the most imaginative. +Knowledge and realization seldom meet. I see that now. I used to +believe, as a doctor, that I knew something about pain; but of course I +didn’t. I knew as much about it as people know of an earthquake shock +from reading about it in a newspaper. My nerves were untouched.” + +“I have always thought doctors must be rather insensitive,” said Henry, +complacently. “Frankly, I have never been able to stand the sight of +suffering. I suppose things were pretty rotten over there for you?” As +Anthony did not answer, Henry added tactfully, “You must tell me all +about it some time when you feel more up to the mark, and things get +easier to talk about.” + +Anthony’s eyelids flickered; the lines between his lips and his mouth +were deep as furrows. + +It was obvious that with his usual good sense he agreed with Henry that +it was better to postpone the history of his captivity. + +Still, Henry did not want to postpone it entirely. He was curious to be +told something about it—how many meals one got a day, and what amount +of exercises one was allowed to take. He wanted to hear the kind of +things one could afterwards talk over comfortably at the club with the +other fellows. + +But Anthony had lost the faculty of realizing what was expected of him +in conversation. He didn’t follow the line of Henry’s thoughts. He began +abruptly: + +“Those were awfully good cigarettes you kept sending me. Wonderful what +a civilizing thing a cigarette is! Did some fellows good, you know, just +to look at them; kept them up to the mark. ’Pon my word, I shouldn’t +wonder if it helped ’em to be straight more than their prayers. What one +wants, you know, out there is some point to hold on to, some point +outside oneself. Religions that push you inside yourself make a shocking +mess of it, and all religions do it too much. What you want is to get +out, no matter how small the point you’re aiming at; then you’re safe—I +mean that’s your chance of keeping sane. Of course it’s only a chance.” + +Henry cleared his throat nervously. + +“The Young Men’s Christian Association,” he said, “has really done +wonders in this war. It is one of the charities I made a point of +backing up. I quite agree with you that the social element in religion +is extremely important. The church has overlooked it shockingly. I put +down its comparative failure to its inability to deal with its +congregations socially.” + +Anthony opened his eyes and stared at Henry. He looked as if he did not +know what his brother was talking about. Apparently he had not been +referring to the church. + +The door burst open. + +“I can’t help it, Mary. No matter what Mr. Henry said, I will +see—Tony!” + +She was in his arms; when he heard her voice he had got up and felt for +her as if he were blind. + +It was Daphne; of course she had done exactly what they had arranged for +her not to do. Her eyes blazed at him, fierce with tenderness; he could +hardly meet them. He felt her arms tighten round him. + +“Ah, they’ve hurt you! they’ve hurt you!” she gasped. + +Anthony tried hard to hold himself together. He kept telling himself +that he mustn’t make an ass of himself before Henry. Daphne pushed him +back into his chair and knelt beside him, gazing at him with the +piercing eyes of mercy and love. There was no use trying to hoodwink +Daphne. She saw what war had done to Anthony; she saw nothing else. + +Henry hovered ineffectually in the rear of the situation; he tried hard +to stop its being a situation, but Daphne overpowered him. She took no +notice of the halves of inconspicuous sentences which escaped from his +lips except to say, after a moment or two, casually over her shoulder, +as if he weren’t a member of his family and her host, “You’d better go, +Henry.” + +If Anthony had lifted his little finger to keep him, Henry would have +stayed—but Anthony did not look in his direction either. His lips had +started trembling; he held his elbow on his knee and his hand over his +eyes. Henry tiptoed out of the room as if he had inadvertently strayed +into a prayer-meeting. + +Daphne took Anthony in her arms again. + +“Oh, what have they done to you!” she murmured. “They have eaten half +your life.” + +Then she began to cry terribly, and it gave back Anthony all his +self-control to see her cry. He laughed at her, and patted the back of +her obstinately untidy curls. They were just like his own, only made out +of spun gold. His had turned gray. + +“Don’t be a goose,” he protested. “It’s all right now. Nothing’s the +matter really. I’m perfectly fit. Are you crying about me or is it Tom?” + +“Oh, you!” she sobbed. “Tom’s only dead.” + +“Well, I’ll be all right soon,” Anthony reassured her. “I’ll be just as +usual in a little while. All the fellows feel rather queer at first, you +know. You ought to be at Pannell. I kept thinking you’d meet me there +to-morrow. I suppose they’re all right, aren’t they? Henry would have +told me if they weren’t.” + +[Illustration: _Daphne pushed him back into his chair and knelt beside +him._] + +“Yes, yes, yes,” said Daphne, quickly; “everything’s quite all right.” +Her sobs had subsided now, and she searched through his pockets to find +the handkerchief she ought to have had the sense to bring with her. + +“Something’s changed?” said Anthony, sharply. “What is it, Daphne? +You’re hiding something from me.” + +“No, no, not changed,” whispered Daphne. “I’m not changed, Tony; only I +didn’t mean to tell you to-night. Don’t you see how old I am, how +monstrously, awfully old?” + +Anthony studied her beautiful, radiant face with keen, questioning eyes. + +“You’ve turned into some kind of grownup woman at last, haven’t you?” he +asked slowly. “Hullo! what’s that on your finger?” + +“Yes,” she said, “it is really. Isn’t it funny? I can’t get used to it. +I didn’t want to be happy a bit by myself without you, but he was in the +Flying Corps, and I was so anxious! We were married last June. I made +them all swear not to tell you. I censored their letters for months for +fear of its dropping out. You see, I knew, if you were with me, you’d be +glad. O Tony, doesn’t it seem wonderful! It’s over, and he’s all right. +I keep saying that instead of my prayers all day. It’s over, and he’s +all right.” + +Anthony nodded. + +“Yes,” he said; “yes, I suppose so. It’s over, and it’s all right, +either way you look at it, perhaps.” + +They were silent for a moment, then she said quickly: “Oh, Tony darling, +Tom was killed at once. Jim found out for me; I can prove it to you. +Tell me you believe me? You know I wouldn’t rest till I found out. Jim +went over and saw the Major. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. You do +believe me, Tony?” + +Anthony was not looking at her; he was looking straight into the heart +of the fire. + +“Yes,” he said in a perfectly level voice; “yes, I believe you. I say—I +say, Daphne, d’you think Henry’d mind if I kept a light in my room all +night?” + + + CHAPTER III + +Anthony would not have admitted that he had a creed, because he thought +creeds unscientific; but if you habitually act up to certain unspoken +principles, they become dogmas. Anthony’s creed ran as follows: + +“Play your best whether you are likely to win or not. Never let any one +down for the sake of your own convenience; never lie; face disaster +readily, even if you could by exercising a little ingenuity evade your +share of it. Back whatever you believe in except your own mistakes; own +up to a blunder instantly without the emphasis of egoism. Do not involve +other people in your actions, and do not be involved by them, and let +the end of your work have the same quality as its beginning.” + +It was an excellent creed, full of self-respect and armed at all points +against the inroads of reality; the kind of creed that gives a man peace +at the last, unless he has had too bad a time in the interval. It had no +mercy in it either for himself or for others. Prison shook it to its +foundation. Anthony had not allowed for a life that was a hideous +nightmare beneath the plane of self-control, or for a moral chaos +without rules. There was nothing he could act upon; he simply suffered +as those under the harrow of acute physical pain suffer, without +horizon. + +Incidents in Anthony’s hospital career flashed into his mind with a new +meaning. He remembered a woman dying in child-birth who had told her +agonized husband with unfaltering mendacity that it wasn’t nearly so bad +as she had expected. Anthony had admired her then, but he had not +thought her superhuman; he had believed that people could always bear +pain properly. + +The last words of a boy of nineteen crushed in a street accident came +back to him: “I don’t want to live; it’s too cruel to care about.” At +the time Anthony had believed this remark to be a proof of the lack of +discipline in the lower classes. + +He knew now that there are moments in which it is a miracle to behave +properly, when life becomes simply too cruel to care about. He felt that +there was a power which sometimes saved people at these moments, but +that it was not a virtue inherent in themselves; and he lost a little of +his self-respect. + +The other prisoners taught Anthony that kindness was more necessary than +skill. It wasn’t enough to do things for them; many of them were beyond +the more direct aids of science, and even if they had not been, Anthony +had not the proper means for assisting them. + +What was necessary, if he was to be of any use to his fellow-prisoners, +was for him to involve himself in their sufferings. It was precisely +what Anthony had made a point of avoiding throughout his career. He had +to put aside his personal fastidiousnesses and to overcome his love of +independence. + +At first the other men were afraid of Anthony’s self-control, and they +had left him alone in consequence, and Anthony had to destroy this +salutary fear to which he owed his privacy. Nothing but the fact that he +hated being useless gave him the courage to persevere. He wanted to +work. He did not love his fellow-prisoners; they maddened him. They had +had codes, too, once, but either they had not taken their codes so +seriously as Anthony had taken his, or their power of control was +slighter. They grumbled without ceasing, quarreled readily, and were +often disgusting. + +Only one or two of them were really complaining, quarrelsome, or +disgusting men; these were the things that happened to them from +outside, through the gigantic pressure of adverse circumstance playing +upon their unnourished bodies. They could not help themselves. + +In time Anthony realized the power of adversity, and it made it much +easier to get on with his fellow-prisoners; he saw that their temper was +no more to blame than their indigestion. Even their vices, or their +endless references to vice, were merely like the outbreak of a tedious +delusion. The difference between them and Anthony was that Anthony +_could_ help himself. It ceased to be their self-control that mattered; +his became vital. If that went, he could be of no use to anybody. +Anthony guarded his self-control as if it were the elixir of life. He +measured it out by inches; when he felt it menaced, he retired into +absolute silence. It was the only thing he could retire into; there was +no space for solitude except in his own soul. + +It was a long and difficult task, and Anthony never got to the end of +it; but long before he realized that he was succeeding, every one in the +camp came to him with their troubles. They saw that he had a margin of +strength to deal with the affairs of other people, and most of them had +become men without margins. + +There were plenty of damaged bodies for Anthony to treat, and added to +these were the more complicated cases, broken hearts, bad habits, and +the deadly collapse of the will. These attacked Anthony’s inner citadel, +and found him at a loss for supplies. He tried hard to evolve comfort +for his patient from his scanty spiritual stores, because he had +discovered that very unhappy men cannot live without spiritual comfort +even when they are being half-starved. Men were going to pieces because +they missed religion just as much as because they missed bread. It was +even more disintegrating. The religion that they missed had no definite +form; it was that of human ties, traditions, and the obligations of +love. The prison rules did not take the place of these obligations, nor +did quinine act as a substitute for love. + +There was no give and take between their former existence and their +present one. They could not send anything home except their hopes, and +after a time these were broken by the endless monotony of expectation. +Anthony fought against despair as if it were the German Empire. It +became part of his profession. He had always fought death as if it were +despair, and now he fought despair as if it were death. But his methods +had to be more empirical. + +“You’ll have a hell of a time if you don’t keep straight,” he reminded +his menaced patients, “a much worse hell than if you do.” But he soon +found that this was not a successful argument. Self-preservation has to +be an instantaneous need before it can resist despair. + +Tradition was a better specific. + +“After all, we’re Englishmen,” Anthony urged. “We don’t want them to +think they’ve reduced us to behaving like pigs or sinking into idiots. +We’ve got to keep our end up.” + +But this stimulant wore out in time. There was nothing fundamental in +it; there is a greater need of letting go under great pressure than in +preserving appearances. Men ceased to care what anybody thought of them; +they even ceased to care what they thought of themselves. + +Anthony was more successful when he appealed to their feeling for their +people at home. + +“We mustn’t go back spoiled,” he pleaded; “we must pull ourselves +together so that there will be something to take back worth taking. One +couldn’t let one’s people down.” + +Anthony often laughed at himself over his own methods, they were so +rough and ready, and reminded him so often of the attempts at religious +reformations, which he had always despised. + +“It takes more,” he said to himself, grimly, “to make a good Salvation +Army lass than I should have thought possible.” + +And, after all, nothing answered for long, nothing that Anthony could +find to say. He had no idea that what kept the tone of the camp +considerably higher than it would otherwise have been was the quiet +persistency of his own example. Anthony planned his advice, and it was +good as far as it went; but his example was spontaneous, and it went +very much further. + +For two years Anthony fought in the dark the battle of the soul in which +he did not believe, and now he told himself the battle could stop. There +was nothing else to fight against except a few strained nerves. He could +go back to his proper work, the study of how to heal the human body, a +much more reasonable and satisfactory adventure than how to keep alive +the human soul. He was still nervous, and he did not feel happy yet; but +that was because he had the meeting with his people before him, and the +memory of Tom’s death standing like a shadow across his return to +Pannell. The first few minutes would be difficult, especially with his +father. + +Pannell meant Tom to Mr. Arden; the rest of his family was only a +pleasant and expensive annex. He had built all his future, and the +future of his race, upon his eldest son. Mr. Arden had never understood +Anthony; he did not see why any son of his should wish to be a doctor. +There was the army, the navy, the civil service, the church, and the +bar, ample professions for any one with brains to find a career in. +Ardens _had_ doctors; they didn’t expect to _be_ them. + +Mr. Arden told Anthony plainly that a surgeon’s was not a gentleman’s +profession. Quite good fellows went into it sometimes when they couldn’t +afford better, but the squire was prepared to do something better than +that even for his second son. + +But Anthony had been obstinate about this low taste for science. He had +clung to it as if it had been a barmaid, and there were moments when the +squire would have preferred a barmaid; for it is easier to get rid of a +woman than of an idea. Anthony knew that he had a painful struggle to +face with his father, for he had no intention of giving up his +profession for the sake of Pannell, and if science was a blunder in a +younger son, it would be considered a crime in the eldest. + +He thought perhaps it was because of this impending struggle that he +could not enjoy the approach to Pannell. The velvety green fields did +not move him, nor the wide expanse of the barebacked downs. He was +nervously aware of the passing stations, as if he wished to retain them +between himself and Boscott. Daphne wouldn’t be there now; he had left +her with her husband. His first meeting with this new brother-in-law had +hurt him intensely. Anthony had immediately liked Jim Wynne, but he +hadn’t got over the fact of the marriage; it made him feel absurdly +lonely, and as if his return to his profession wouldn’t be the final +satisfaction he had expected. Of course going to Pannell would make it +all right if he could overcome being afraid of rows. He’d always rather +liked rows before. His father used to get hot over them, and Anthony +used to get cold. They said outrageous things to each other, and neither +of them ever came within range of the other one’s arguments; but there +had been no fear on either side, and no favor. Anthony was aware of fear +now. He did not want to hurt his father. + +Boscott came, after all, with a rush. Anthony saw his father’s face as +the train drew up at the tiny station before he recognized the two tall +young sisters who had shot up into women during his absence. He +reflected that his sisters had grown, but they had not changed. His +father had changed. + +The squire shook Anthony’s hand with welcoming vigor, and looked him +between the eyes. + +“I’m glad to have you back, my boy,” he said heartily; then he looked +away suddenly, as if he were seeing some one else. + +The squire had determined to be cordial. He had prepared the words all +the way down to the station, but he had not known what it would cost him +to meet the wrong son. And then Anthony refused to drive Vixen. + +“Please yourself, of course,” said Mr. Arden, gruffly. “She’s a fine +little mare, goes like silk. You won’t have seen such a horse anywhere +where you’ve been.” The squire did not wish to say the word “Germany.” +He considered the bare existence of such a country indecent. + +Anthony kissed his sisters’ cool, firm cheeks. They were pink with +excitement and extremely shy. They wondered if Anthony noticed how grown +up they were, and why he was so terribly thin despite all their parcels. + +“We didn’t bring the dogs,” Ursula explained—“we thought they would be +too excited—but Max is quite well.” + +Max was Anthony’s own dog, a brusque, unamiable, and fanatically loyal +Aberdeen. + +“He simply hated your being away, you know. He sleeps in your room +regularly, because he won’t sleep anywhere else, and he bit Mary for +cleaning it last week—not badly—on the ankle.” + +“A quarrelsome, bad-tempered, crotchety cur,” Mr. Arden asserted, with +restored good-humor; “but your mother thinks the world of him because he +refused to eat for three days after you left. The girls tempted him with +raw meat, and in the end he gave way to ’em. But he’s borne a grudge +against ’em ever since.” + +“That was awfully nice of you,” Anthony said gratefully to his sisters. +He would have been ashamed to say how often he had thought of Max during +his captivity, and that he hadn’t liked to ask how he was for fear of +hearing he was dead. + +“Your mother didn’t come to meet you,” Mr. Arden explained as they +seated themselves in the dog-cart, and Vixen, after a slight premonitory +shy at the gate-post, darted off down the long, white road like a +swallow. “I persuaded her not to. She’s not up to much excitement +nowadays, and of course we’re not giving any celebration in the village +for your return. You’ll understand all that.” + +Anthony nodded. + +It was too early for the trees to be out, but there was a misty look +over the budding boughs, and the tilled fields and woodlands had already +slipped from the hand of winter and lay open for the visiting spring. +The white road stretched between the Pannell woods and the Pannell +farms, and straight before them, as the road wound up toward the low, +soft skies, were the sloping shoulders of the downs. Pannell stood under +them, gray and weather-beaten, facing the shifting shadows with its +unchanging stone. + +As they passed into the drive, Vixen, moving as if she ran on velvet +springs, the gray walls of Pannell rose up in front of them. First the +clock-tower in the massive stone stables, a stretch of open park, and +then the long, uneven lines of the roof. Anthony’s heart struck suddenly +against his side. He had not realized before what it would be to own +Pannell. The knowledge flooded him with a kind of awe. The ancient +trees, the mossy lawns were his, and his the evanescent spirit of the +changeless place. + +Mr. Arden glanced sharply at him. Neither of them said anything, but +Anthony knew that his father divined his feeling and bitterly resented +it. Anthony flushed painfully. He wanted to explain how gladly he would +have given up that strange thrill of possession for the sight of Tom, +broad-shouldered and casual, strolling out of the stable door, a gun +over his shoulder and a dog at his heels. If his father could only have +guessed that deeper feeling, that stubborn sense of loss which had +become part of Anthony’s very being since Tom’s death, he would not have +been hurt at the momentary pride of place which had swept over him +without replacing or touching the deeper sense of his grief. But it was +Mr. Arden’s misfortune that he could not read deeply into the mind of +his younger son. + +The last moments of the drive were intolerably long; even his sisters, +who had been pointing out all the changes of three years to Anthony, +ceased chattering. + +It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and the February light lay level +across the lawn, fugitive and without weight. + +Vixen consented to draw up on the familiar gravel after a slight +pretense that she had never been there before and couldn’t be expected +to remain an instant in so strange a situation. A groom ran to her head +and out of a French window poured a torrent of dogs, a fox-terrier, two +white West Highlanders, and more gingerly, as a matter of form, came +Max. + +For a moment he stood stock-still, his whole being centered in an +anxious, questioning sniff, and then three years, a third of his brief +lifetime, ceased to exist. He hurled the two white West Highlanders to +right and left of him, he passed straight over the back of Demon, the +ecstatic fox-terrier, he leaped at the thin, gray figure of Anthony +fiercely and without a sound. Three times he flung himself upward +silently at his master’s chest, weaving like a shuttle the pattern of +his desperate joy; then Anthony found a voice to say his name huskily, +and Max, the sober, the undemonstrative, that foe to emotion in +fox-terriers, sat down on the top of a flight of steps and proceeded to +have a fit of violent hysterics. + +Anthony had to push him aside in order to hurry through the open French +windows to his mother’s arms. + +As he caught her against his heart, he heard her whisper over and over +under her breath: + +“Are you sure you’re not hungry, Tony? Are you sure you’re not hungry?” + +She knew he had been in Holland and overnight in London, but she wanted +to hear him say he was not hungry. She had thought of nothing else for +two years. + +Anthony felt quite happy at coming back to his mother, because he knew +she would not want him to be Tom. + +Tom was not the race to Mrs. Arden as he had been to his father. He was +Tom, and the son she held in her frail arms was Anthony. + +“You must have tea at once,” she whispered tremulously. “It’s quite +ready, and I hope you won’t mind eating a new-laid egg with it, it’s +more solid. Oh, you’re so thin, my darling!” + +“I’m not nearly so thin as you are, Mother,” said Anthony, trying to see +her face through misty eyes. “By Jove! you’re like a little leaf!” His +mother shook her head smilingly at him. + +“I’m not thin, Anthony,” she murmured; “I’m only old.” + +And then Anthony saw that was what had happened while he was away; his +mother had grown old. + + + CHAPTER IV + +The house was extraordinarily quiet. Anthony kept listening for the +heavy tread of a sentry, the raucous cry of a German voice, or the sound +of a restless fellow-prisoner turning on his bed. Instead, he felt like +a tangible substance the guarded silence of the old, thick walls. He was +glad he had the electric light fully on. It showed him that it was, +after all, an ordinary, empty room, a place you could get in and out of +easily. + +It had been his own, and everything in it recalled the memories of his +boyhood. He could count the roses on the worn carpet, and see the hole +he had burned in it under the window by a drop of acid. The old oak +wardrobe was roughened and eaten into by time. It had made a splendid +shy hole for treasures, mixed up with superfluous underclothes. + +The book-case in the corner held all Anthony’s school prizes, a fine, +solid row of young achievements. It had always hurt Anthony’s feelings +that the squire never cared to look at them, and it had hurt the +squire’s feelings that Anthony had cared to win them when Tom was +content with cups and bats. + +Everything in the room came back to Tom. Tom was in old school +photograph groups on the walls. It had seemed incredibly important to +Anthony at the time to buy them, though, as a form of decoration, they +resembled a paper of pins, and now he could hardly remember the fellows’ +names. They were healthy, well-made boys, with short futures. Most of +them were dead. Tom was usually sitting in the center with a cup or a +presentation bat behind him. Anthony tried to hurry away from that +well-known direct gaze, looking straight out of the photograph at him; +but however fast he hurried, Tom’s eyes followed him. Anthony tried to +fix his mind instead upon the prints of Watts and Burne-Jones which he +had bought with a sense of thrilled compulsion in his early twenties, +and hadn’t had time to get rid of afterward. + +He remembered that he had once encouraged the tenderest fancies for the +half-starved, anemic creatures with long necks and heavy hair; but he +could not rouse in himself the faintest interest in these weary ladies +now. Anthony had not wanted real women in his youth. He had been afraid +of them, and later on he had despised women. It is always simpler for +young men to despise what they are afraid of: it makes them feel less +afraid; but it sometimes gives them in later life more reason for fear. + +Anthony despised women because he thought that they interfered with a +man’s work. Bad women interfered with it intermittently, and good women +interfered with it all the time. They did not understand the abstract, +and Anthony, perhaps fortunately for himself, had not time to stop and +explain it to them. Anthony remembered a curious, wistful saying of +Tom’s: “It must make a fellow feel rather like the Almighty to keep as +straight as you do.” It _had_ made Anthony feel rather like the +Almighty, but his virtue had isolated him. In order to exercise it he +had become rigid, and rigidity is seldom popular with women. + +Anthony had never been a success with them. Either they wanted to +attract Anthony, and found they couldn’t, or they did not want to +attract him, and suspected him of thinking they did. In either case +women misled Anthony, and avoided him when they couldn’t mislead him. +But for the sake of Pannell he would have to marry now. + +Anthony’s mind slipped indolently over his sister’s friends; he had none +of his own under forty. “Women become interesting,” he thought, “when +they cease to be attractive.” + +Ursula’s and Gladys’s friends were far too young to suit him. They +considered themselves grown up, of course. They had round, firm cheeks +like pink tennis-balls, and the eyes of intelligent puppies. Physically +they were everything a woman should be, but they never opened a book, +and would look frightened and drop things if Anthony spoke to them. + +Daphne’s friends were of the right age, but she was apt to like clever +women who had been misunderstood by their families. Anthony disliked +women who were misunderstood, and he suspected all cleverness in women. +If it was genuine, and not a mere ruse of the unattractive, he +considered that it led to grave nervous disorders. + +Anthony wanted a wife without a nerve, with great practical common +sense, like the best type of elderly trained nurse. She must not be more +than twenty-five years old, with plenty of knowledge of actual life and +its processes and no abstract intelligence. + +Abstract intelligence played the devil with women. They carried their +emotions into it, and thought with their blood. They poured personality +into the universe as a man pours water into a jug, and the universe was +not made to hold personality. Women were never impersonal, and they were +most dangerous when they were being clever about hiding it. They could +not deal straight with fact. They did not have even a temptation without +a serpent to support it, and they were capable of melting down the +multiplication table into a channel for personal drama. Anthony’s +thoughts became a little vague at this point. He did not exactly want to +marry a woman without charm; but he had got his mind away from Tom, at +all events, or thought he had. + +An owl shrieked under his window. He knew it was an owl, but the shriek +curiously haunted and disturbed him. He got out of bed and began to walk +up and down the room; it did not help him very much, because he had +already got all the help there is to be got from this form of exercise +while he was a prisoner. Still, it was curiously better to think about +prison than to think about Tom. + +To-morrow he had promised to tell his people his experiences; his mother +had helped him to put it off a day. It would be wiser, perhaps, to +prepare beforehand what he meant to tell them. It wouldn’t do if he ran +off the rails anywhere and told them the truth. + +It was not that the truth was so bad, but that you could not tell it. It +was so misleading. It would be like giving a coherent explanation of +Christian Science to a hard-headed business man with a toothache. + +It would have been easier to tell them perhaps—everything would have +been easier—if they had not all been so silent about Tom. That was what +made the house so infernally full of his presence. There was nothing +secret about Tom; he was the most open person alive: but now he was +being hushed up until everything became aware of him. + +The moment Anthony had entered the hall he had felt conscious of the +weight of this silence. It was in the servants’ faces, and had taken +possession of inanimate things. The very walking-sticks in the hall +seemed under the weight of it, and silence brooded over the staircase +and in all the empty spaces of the rooms. Everything was waiting for Tom +to come and use it; everything had belonged to Tom and was still his. + +All the evening the house waited. They hadn’t put off dinner, because +that was a meal which was never put off for anybody; but when the clock +struck eight all their eyes had gone to the door expectantly. + +The squire gave an impatient sigh. He had always been impatient with Tom +for being late, but he had never really minded. Nobody said anything; +they had just gone in to dinner, and the squire had opened a bottle of +old wine and been vexed with Anthony for not drinking more of it. Of +course he was really vexed with Anthony for being Anthony, but he put it +down to the wine. + +Anthony made up his mind to speak of Tom to his father directly they +were alone after dinner; but the words stuck in his throat. He was +afraid of breaking into something that mustn’t be broken into. He had a +feeling that the beauty of his home was unsubstantial. He was intensely +aware of it: the spotless, delicate linen; the shining, unobtrusive +silver; the quiet comfort and security of all its simplest processes. It +seemed to Anthony that the bared voice of pain might break it all to +pieces. It would be like touching porcelain with a hammer. + +He longed for his father to speak of Tom, but Mr. Arden said nothing. He +was heroically accepting the return of the wrong son, and his heroism +cost Anthony his father’s confidence. Mr. Arden was kind to Anthony and +even mildly cheerful, but he held his son away from his grief. The +squire had not shared his sorrow even with his wife. He had spared her. +“I think we won’t talk of Tom, my dear, at present,” was what he had +said to her after the first few desolate hours, and Mrs. Arden had +appeared spared. She had kissed him silently and left the room. Tom +unspoken of had settled down upon the house; no one spoke of him, and no +one remembered him as Tom, and no one forgot him as a grief. It made +Anthony feel in some strange way as if he was to blame for not being +killed as well. He had gone to bed as soon as he could, and even here he +couldn’t get away from his false impression of Tom. + +He opened the door of his room and listened. The house was perfectly +still; he could hear the old clock down-stairs creak each time its heavy +pendulum swung to and fro. + +It used to creak like that when he and Tom were in the night nursery +up-stairs, and they came out of it to hang over the banisters to listen. +If it was very dark and late, they sometimes thought it wasn’t the +clock, but a bad old man creeping up-stairs to catch them; but they +never went back into the night nursery until they had stopped being +afraid, because they knew they mustn’t be cowards. They knew that as +soon as they knew anything. + +Tom’s room was at the end of the passage nearest the stables, because +Tom loved to hear the grooms hiss over the horses early in the morning. +Anthony felt that he must go to Tom’s room and find him. It wasn’t any +use waiting any longer; only Tom could drive away the weight of this +delusive ghost. + +Everything was in order, and except that the order was a little too +perfect it looked just as it used to look when Tom was in it. There were +his boating cups and sport trophies on the mantelpiece; a cricket-bat +stood in the corner, and Tom’s school cap with colors hung over his +fishing-rod. + +There was a row of pipes over the writing-table by the window, and a +series of sporting prints decorated the walls. + +Nothing had been changed; the familiar smell of good leather, a great +deal used, lingered over all the furniture. Anthony went to the +writing-table and picked up a small, shabby red book. It was called “My +Friends’ Opinions,” and had been given to Tom by Daphne on his sixteenth +birthday. + +It contained a series of printed questions on one page, with blank +spaces for answers upon the opposite side, and would probably, as far as +Tom was concerned, have remained blank if he had not been overtaken by +influenza and a rainy day. + +This unfortunate combination had produced Tom’s opinions, written in a +round school-boy hand, and as he had not changed them since his +sixteenth birthday, they remained the sole expression of his +unexpressive personality. + +Anthony picked up the book and read it slowly, as if he were listening +to Tom’s voice. + +“What is your favorite flower?” the inquisition began. + +Tom had written, “A rose,” because he felt that he was safe with roses. +You could not catch him out there; most people preferred roses. + +“What is your favorite Christian name?” + +Tom had felt this to be a snare, and had confused the issue. He had put +“Bluebell” and “Eleanore.” Bluebell was Tom’s sole excursion into prose +fancy. He had never met a “Bluebell,” and the name corresponded to +Anthony’s Burne-Jones ladies. Eleanore was supported by fact; she was +Tom’s favorite mare. + +“What character do you admire most in fiction?” + +“_Hereward the Wake._” + +_Hereward_ wasn’t really a character at all, but all that fighting had +made him sound like one to Tom, and his battle-cry was worth many +austere virtues. + +“In history?” + +“Richard Cœur de Lion.” Richard, too, had escaped the strictest moral +elevation, but his title and the Holy Land preserved him. + +“In real life?” + +“My father.” There was nothing to be said to this statement except that +in the day of calamity the squire had come across it and been enabled to +hold up his head. + +“Your favorite book?” + +“‘Black Beauty’ and ‘Tom Brown’s School Days.’ Besides, these are the +only ones I have read through by myself except when I had to.” + +Hunting was, of course, Tom’s chief pastime. + +The questions did not go very deeply into religious matters. Tom had got +out of them neatly by mentioning “the Church of England” and “the +Bible.” + +The inquiry ended romantically with, “What is your favorite quotation?” + +This surprised Anthony, for Tom had written “Those friends thou hast and +their adoption tried, grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.” Of +course this was what Tom would do, but Anthony had not known that he +read Shakspere, and Tom had added another line, though he was obviously +unaware that it did not belong to the quotation above it: “For truth is +truth to the end of the reckoning.” + +Anthony put the book down. He felt as if Tom couldn’t haunt him any +more. Tom had got to the end of the reckoning first; that was all there +was to it. + +The night before Tom’s regiment had left England, Anthony had asked Tom +what he thought about death. He had not put it like that of course, +because Tom would not have known how to deal with an abstraction. He had +said, “What do you feel about things, old chap? D’you mind awfully the +idea of going out?” And Tom had answered after a pause, as if the +question was not wholly new to him: “Oh, I don’t know. It seems simple +enough. Look at rabbits—you know what I mean: you’re awfully alive one +moment, and then just a little bit of limp fur the next. I’ve often +thought it funny, but never particularly terrible. What do you feel +about it yourself?” + +“You mustn’t judge by my feelings,” Anthony had answered. “You see, it’s +my profession to fight death. Frankly, I hate it. I’ve tried to get the +better of it for years, but beyond a certain point you can’t. Nobody +ever has. It downs you. I dare say I shan’t mind extinction for myself. +The act of death is generally unconscious, and if it isn’t, it is so +disagreeable that no sane man would wish to prolong it. I never have +believed there was the ghost of a life afterward.” + +This had shocked Tom considerably. He had said: + +“Oh, well, you know, I believe in the church and all that up to a +certain point, of course; and then there’s the Bible. I’m not a clever +chap like you, but I honestly feel as if it must be all right somehow, +if one does the best one can, you know, and all that. There must be +something in it.” + +Anthony smiled at this remembrance; then he shivered as he turned to go +back to his own room. + +He was wondering again if death had come to Tom quickly, like the shot +rabbit, one moment all alive and next a little bit of limp flesh and +blood, funny, but not terrible? + +He dared not let himself think of the alternative, and either way, what +_had_ come afterward? Nothing, as he believed, or whatever it was that +Tom was groping after, when he asserted that: “It must be all right +somehow. There must be something in it.” + +“For truth is truth to the end of the reckoning.” That was the only +enigmatical statement that Anthony had ever known Tom endorse; for it +was enigmatic to any one else but Tom. + +It was all very well for Tom to talk as if truth was the next door +neighbor’s pig, but how was Anthony to find it so ascertainable? And how +could he bear not to find it, when it included, as it included now, the +possibility of Tom’s own immortality? + +There was a tentative scratch at the door. Max had awakened to find +Anthony gone and tracked him methodically down the passage. Truth was +not enigmatical to Max. He had only to follow his instincts, which led +him unerringly in the direction of his master. + + + CHAPTER V + +Anthony’s breakfast was sent up to his room on a tray. He felt an absurd +inclination to cry at the sight of the delicate linen, the golden +creaminess of the butter, the liquid sunshine of a honeycomb, and the +thin egg-shell china, white with a green sprig, which had been one of +his mother’s wedding presents. + +He wished he could get used to the physical beauty of inanimate things. +Beauty struck raw against his strained and awakened senses, like the +piercing music of a violin. + +After breakfast Anthony found his mother in the morning-room. She was +always to be found there at the same time, interviewing servants, going +over household accounts, or writing her family letters. Her even, +blameless existence was full of little cares and arrangements for her +family’s comfort. + +Nothing had ever broken into Mrs. Arden’s habits. She was always willing +to assist poor people if they had anything usual the matter with them; +and if what they had the matter with them was unusual, she referred it +to the squire. + +The room looked south on to the terrace, fronting the downs. It was full +of sunshine. On the table by the window stood a bowl of early daffodils. +Mrs. Arden turned as Anthony came in. + +“I hoped you’d come here, dear,” she said as he kissed her. “I rather +wanted you all to myself this morning. The girls are in the garden, and +your father had to go out. While we are alone together, I want to show +you all the wonderful letters about dear Tom. You would hardly believe +people could be so kind; every one wrote to us.” + +Anthony sat down on the window-seat, and Mrs. Arden took out the +letters. + +They were kept in a long, open box on her writing-table, and labeled in +her exquisite, neat hand-writing: “From Tom’s friends.” “From his +relations.” “From the people on the estate.” “From his regiment.” “From +the clergy.” “From public people.” + +“I think I like his friends’ letters best,” Mrs. Arden explained +quietly. “They sound more like him, and some of the villagers wrote +about when he was a child. It is such a comfort to know how well he was +understood and loved. What I like best is to think of him being +remembered. I don’t know how to put it quite, but when people live a +very long time, they are connected with so many things and events, +aren’t they? Even if they’re quite dull people, they don’t drop out so +easily; but short lives like Tom’s might disappear and be lost,—I mean +humanly speaking,—mightn’t they, if people weren’t specially kind about +remembering? Dear Mr. Medal is so good to me! He preached a wonderful +sermon on purpose to reassure me about the remembrances of God. I think +that was what he called it. But of course one believes that God +remembers; only sometimes (perhaps you’ll understand what I mean better +than Mr. Medal did), one wants to think the _earth_ remembered Tom as +well. He did so much for it, didn’t he, here at Pannell?” + +Anthony nodded. He knew exactly what his mother meant. He, too, had the +same feeling. He wanted the earth to remember Tom—the earth which he +had tended with such care and had slipped out of at the last so +unobtrusively. + +Anthony read the letters out loud to his mother. She sat beside him, +with her hand on his arm, and every now and then she cried a little, +because it was such a comfort having Anthony read the letters out loud +to her. + +Anthony read packet after packet, holding on to himself and keeping his +voice even. When he had finished them all, Mrs. Arden said: + +“Now, then, if you wouldn’t mind telling me all about Germany before +your father comes in, then I should really understand what you have been +through.” + +Mrs. Arden could say “Germany” better than Mr. Arden could, but she +couldn’t for the life of her say “prison.” + +“I tried to read all that the newspapers said about it, you know, +Anthony,” she explained, “and all the books that came out on the +subject. I am sure they were wonderfully written, and no doubt their +authors knew all about their subjects, only, you see, they never said +any of the things I particularly wanted to know. I dare say it was my +fault. I am so stupid at understanding descriptions in books; I always +wish people would just tell you what happened.” + +Anthony cleared his throat and looked at the daffodils. + +“Perhaps,” he said, “you had better ask me exactly what you do want to +know.” Anthony expected to get off rather cheaply with his mother. She +was, as a rule, very easy to get off cheaply from. She never saw points +very clearly, her own or any one else’s. He had not counted on her +asking questions, which, if he hadn’t been very careful, would have told +her far too much. He did not know how the most ignorant fears, if they +come direct from the heart, hit at truth. + +Of course he was intensely careful. He got round all her questions, he +evaded the sharp issues of her fears, and he told her the strictest +minimum of painful things. The Ardens never frightened women except by +reassuring them. + +Mrs. Arden listened anxiously to Anthony’s answers. She did not press +her points. She saw after a few moments that Anthony was sparing her, +and that it made it easier for him to spare her. + +Once she sighed a little, and at the end she said: + +“People’s hair isn’t usually so gray at twenty-eight, Anthony.” + +Anthony got out of that very cleverly. He said it was the climate. Quite +young Germans had gray hair or else they were bald. She couldn’t say his +hair wasn’t thick. + +“And they were really nice to you,” Mrs. Arden murmured, “after the +first?” + +Anthony had admitted to her that at first they weren’t very nice to him. + +“They were all right,” he said a little restlessly—“what they had to +be, you know, Mother. Guards aren’t supposed to be friendly, and the +commandant was quite a good fellow, really. He had to be a bit stiff, +you know; that was what he was there for. I generally took him the +complaints; he was always quite decent to me.” + +“And what complaints did you take him, dear?” Mrs. Arden softly +questioned. + +Anthony did not meet her eyes. + +“Oh, ordinary prisoners’ complaints, you know,” he explained carelessly. +“Sometimes we wanted more exercise, or the heating went wrong, or what +we had in the way of food wasn’t quite up to the mark. You know the kind +of thing.” + +Mrs. Arden was silent for a moment. She was not quite sure that she did +know the kind of thing, but she saw that Anthony wanted her to know it. +Then she said: + +“Your father has asked Mr. Medal to dine with us to-night. He wants so +much to see you again and to hear your experiences, and so does your +father, of course. I thought perhaps you would tell them after dinner, +when the girls and I had gone, you know.” + +Anthony stiffened. He did not want to see the vicar or to tell him his +experiences; he saw that his mother thought he would talk more freely to +the two men. + +He did not guess that she thought it would be good for him to talk more +freely, and still less that if he had told her everything, she would not +have known more surely than she did what he had suffered. + +“I suppose I shall have to see Medal sooner or later,” he agreed after a +pause, “only I don’t want to see people just yet or to be asked +questions. I don’t mean yours, Mother, of course. It isn’t that one’s +had such a hard time, you know. Most fellows have had a far worse one; +only one wants to get used to things gradually.” + +“Yes, dear, I understand,” said Mrs. Arden, gently. “Only, of course, +you’ll want to tell your father, and I thought Mr. Medal might be a +help. After all, he’s almost like one of ourselves.” + +“He isn’t much like one of me,” said Anthony, with a rueful grin. “You +forget he hasn’t got over my shocking opinions. He told me that I was +the most poisoned skeptic he ever prepared for confirmation.” + +Mrs. Arden smiled. + +“Well, dear,” she said, “haven’t _you_ got over your shocking opinions +yet? I think one does, as one gets older, cease to shock.” + +But Anthony had not got as old as that yet. + +“I’m not the least more religious, if that’s what you mean, Mother,” he +confessed a little uncomfortably. + +Mrs. Arden sighed gently, but she waived the question. She did not think +that with a really good man like Anthony it mattered very much what he +thought he believed. Mrs. Arden never interfered with men’s opinions or +children’s toys; it was her experience that they both preferred what you +would least have chosen for them. But that as long as they were kept +amused, it did not greatly matter what object their choice fell upon. + +“Max is longing to take you round the garden,” she said. “You’ll find +the girls out there waiting for you; they want to show you their +improvements. They’ve been really wonderful since the war, you know, +helping your father on the estate; and Ursula is quite pretty, but not, +of course, as pretty as Daphne. Go out and be nice to them; and don’t, +if you can help it, be too clever, Anthony.” + +Anthony couldn’t really help it. He always had been too clever for the +rest of his family. His mother and Daphne overlooked it, but it stuck in +the throats of the others; they found it as difficult to swallow as a +fishbone. + +Ursula and Gladys did what they could with him. They strolled round the +park together, and showed him where they had planted potatoes when the +Government had made all that fuss about potatoes, and how much ground +they had persuaded father to have cut up into allotments for the +villagers. Ursula knew all about the land. It had been her war work, and +she was rather disappointed to find that Anthony knew something about +it, too. He was apologetic over his knowledge, but he had to admit that +he had picked up a thing or two in Germany, and had ideas of his own. + +Gladys had been a V.A.D. and of course she expected Anthony to talk to +her about the extraordinary cases they had had in their cottage +hospital. All their cases had been extraordinary, and what was the use +of having a doctor in the family if you couldn’t talk things over with +him, and tell the other V.A.D.’s afterward where they were wrong? But +Anthony said it was no use theorizing about a case you hadn’t seen; you +might as well try to paint a picture from a description of your +great-grandmother. + +When they asked him about his experiences in Germany he told them how he +and the other officers had got up charades and mock parliamentary +debates. They had had really tremendous fun over woman’s suffrage, and +Anthony had argued on both sides so persuasively that nobody had been +able to guess what his real opinions were. + +“But you do believe in suffrage now, don’t you?” both his sisters cried +breathlessly. “Almost everybody does since the war. It’s not a bit like +what it was when the Suffragettes were so silly, and father got so angry +about it. Besides, we’ve got the vote!” + +“It seems to me exactly what it was,” said Anthony, aggravatingly, “and +I always agreed with it. That is to say, I always agreed women had as +much right as they had ability; until they have the right, of course we +cannot judge of their ability. My theory has always been, if you want +people to hang themselves, give them the longest rope.” + +“But do you want them to hang themselves?” Ursula asked uncertainly. +“That’s not being on their side, is it?” + +Anthony looked from one flushed young face to the other. He felt he was, +after all, tremendously on the side of women. But he was not considering +them at all as they wished him to consider them: an intense tenderness +pervaded his judgment. + +His sisters were eighteen and twenty years old, bewilderingly young and +untried. Nothing had finished for them, nor had they ever seen the +betrayal of illusion. + +The war had been a great call on their young and unawakened energies; +they had met it dauntlessly, protected from all its horrors and free +from its indelible stains. The tragic early deaths of their +contemporaries had saddened and ennobled their lives. They had been +tried by sorrow, but they had not been brutalized by pain. They had made +the sacrifice of the pleasures of their class and race with a willing +heart. All that had come to them and all that they had given up had +developed and enriched them. + +They had found out what was in themselves, and had acted capably and +conscientiously on the material that lay to their hands. Beauty had +never left them; love and companionship remained the unconscious support +of their lives. They had never been terrified or beaten down or come to +the end of their tether. Anthony, looking at their smooth young faces +and fearless eyes, hoped passionately that they would continue to escape +all such realities. If he had believed in prayer, he would have prayed +that they might never know anything more terrible than their protected +duty. He looked away from them so that they should not see his haunted +eyes. + +“I am on your side” he said after a long pause, “more, perhaps, than you +know. As to believing in you as individuals, I believe in you very +strongly. It’s quite a part of my creed to believe in my sisters.” + +Neither Ursula nor Gladys was satisfied with this answer. They didn’t +wish to be believed in as sisters, and they couldn’t explain what they +did wish, so they showed Anthony the stables instead. + +There was no doubt that Mr. Medal helped at dinner. He had a great deal +of natural tact, and a good many openings arose for the use of it. The +squire was irritable. He did not like Anthony’s ideas about land, he +suspected him of socialism; and though, of course, a certain amount of +socialism had to be let in to save worse, if Anthony was socialistic, it +wouldn’t be in the kind of way that the “Times” suggested canny +landlords should adopt. + +Mrs. Arden was nervous because she thought it would be unfortunate if +politics or religion turned up; but when there are one or two large +subjects which it would be unfortunate to mention, the conversation has +a strange way of turning slap in their direction, especially if you are +nervous about it. + +The girls were a little nervous, too, because they felt they had the +position of women to uphold before Anthony, and were not quite sure that +their father and Mr. Medal would remember to show Anthony that they were +quite grown up. + +Mr. Medal did, however; he remembered it beautifully. He recounted all +the girls had done for the cottage hospital, drew out the squire’s +well-known theories on agricultural prospects, and touched lightly on +the histories of village families (not related to the footmen) in a way +that did credit to his cloth. + +Mrs. Arden kept thinking: + +“How wonderful clergymen are! I am sure they must be specially helped.” + +And Mr. Arden gradually thawed over the food. It was very good food, but +if the conversation had gone wrong, he would have thought it wasn’t. +They did not talk about anything painful till the women had left the +room; then the squire said: + +“Now, Anthony, my boy, we should like to hear how those scoundrels +treated you. Let’s have the whole thing from the start, without any +gloves on. I understand you were all taken in a lump, the men on your +flanks having retreated without your knowing it. They killed some of you +after you had surrendered, didn’t they?” + +Anthony looked down at the white tablecloth and began to play nervously +with his empty glass. It had been a very long day. Of course he wasn’t +going to break down and see things, and only housemaids scream. He would +get through quite easily if he just steered clear of a few awkward +corners. + +“Three hundred of us were taken together,” he began in a low, even +voice, “but they killed about fifty or sixty before they were stopped by +a fat man with glasses. I think he was a Bavarian. He said, ‘My God! +these are men, not chickens.’ My leg was broken, so I was on the +ground.” This was an awkward corner. Anthony couldn’t tell them anything +about that. He went on hurriedly: + +“It was awfully cold, you know, in December, and we had five days on the +train. For two days we hadn’t any water,—I think it was two days,—and +I don’t remember much about the food on the journey. The guards were +rather rough. I was in a hospital for three months. It was quite well +managed, on the whole, a little dirty, according to our ideas; probably +on account of the nursing. Some of the nurses behaved well, and others +didn’t. There were one or two who took the patients’ food, and nobody +had any too much food. + +“For the first six months we had rather a bad time; that was before we +got the letters and parcels regularly. We were shunted about a good deal +in cold, badly arranged camps; the bedding was very insufficient. + +“We must remember that the Germans were not organized for a long war. +They expected a short war and great victories, but not large quantities +of prisoners to keep indefinitely without any prospect of final victory; +and then there was the blockade.” + +“Ah, yes; we had them there,” said the squire, cheerfully. “What +happened when you made complaints about the food?” + +“We didn’t make complaints then,” said Anthony, slowly. He looked up +across the shaded electric lights, covered with yellow silk in the shape +of tulips, at Mr. Medal’s face. Mr. Medal was following Anthony with +kindly intentness and peeling a walnut. He had a benevolent, comfortable +face, with fixed ideas behind it. It was quite funny to think what his +face would look like if a shrieking woman had spat into it and called +him a cursed pig-dog. + +When Mr. Medal was preparing Anthony for confirmation he had warned him +against certain temptations which he might be called upon to face in his +future life. A scene in the prison camp flashed before Anthony’s eyes; +it was another of his awkward corners. There was a temptation in it, but +not in the least like anything the vicar had mentioned. + +“When I could walk all right,” he went on after a short pause, “I was +put in the Westphalian camp I told you about, Father. It was in a bad +sanitary condition; there was a great deal of dysentery and light +typhoid, with some graver cases. I made complaints then, regularly, till +they altered the conditions. I wasn’t very popular with the authorities. +You have no idea how difficult it is to face a well-fed, angry man and +state your rights as a human being. When you are rather down in the +mouth, you do not feel as if you have any rights, and they don’t either, +of course.” + +“They’re not human beings at all!” shouted the squire, banging his fist +on the table. “Damned bullying blackguards!” + +Anthony jumped as if his father had struck him. + +“It’s funny your saying that, sir,” he said after a pause. “They struck +me as very human always, and very like some of our own people. It +occurred to me that we might be treating Germans just the same if we +thought of them what they thought of us. I often used to wonder if we +weren’t. War makes people untruthful.” + +“My dear boy,” said Mr. Medal, softly, before the squire could +interfere, “it is your rundown condition which makes you feel like this. +An underfed brain is hardly master of itself.” + +“That’s quite true,” agreed Anthony, “and yet you have no idea how +clearly one sees things when one is underfed. One sees everything as +clear as glass. And not only the usual things, but what people are +thinking as well, and why they think it. It is curiously disturbing to +see so many things so plainly, and not be able to help them.” + +He pulled himself up; this wasn’t what he had meant to say at all. + +“We cleaned the camp,” he went on, “and the condition of the men +improved greatly, and the rest of the time we just—well, you +know—waited. I got a certain amount of exercise allowed me, and I +taught the men Swedish drill to make them fit. They let me act as camp +doctor, with a German medico to refer to if I needed outside help. + +“I used to need outside help, you see, when any one went mad.” + +Mr. Medal stopped peeling walnuts. + +“Mad!” spluttered the squire. “What d’you mean, my boy? What did any one +go mad for?” + +And then what Anthony was afraid might be going to happen to him +happened. He began to see things. He caught hold of the table to steady +himself, and his glass rolled on to the floor and smashed to pieces. He +tried to get up and go outside the circle of the light. Light infuriated +as well as terrified him. + +He saw the vicar’s face in a kind of blur jumping between him and the +pictures, his large, round, contented face as frightened as a startled +rabbit. + +Anthony’s teeth began to chatter, and he felt he was going to scream. He +caught hold of his lips and bit them till the blood came. That helped +him to get to the window and open it without screaming. The cool, clean +air from the downs caught and soothed him like the touch of a friendly +hand. + +He stood there breathing deeply, while the merciful, soft darkness +covered up all he could not forget. The things themselves had never been +so terrible as the pictures. Anthony had been able to deal with what had +happened, but he could not deal with the memories of what had happened. +They ripped his self-control as if it was calico. + +He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. + +“Are you all right, my boy?” the squire asked unsteadily. + +“Quite all right, sir,” said Anthony. + +For a moment they stood there together, and it seemed to Anthony as if +some ineradicable stubbornness of blood connected him with his father +and his father with him. It was an instinct stronger than any +misunderstanding. + +The squire said nothing, and in a minute they were all three sitting +around the table as if nothing had happened. + +Mr. Medal looked the most disturbed of the three. + +Anthony finished his experiences quite comfortably without any awkward +corners. + +“D’you know, Mary,” said the squire when he joined his wife in their +room, “those German pirates have upset that boy of ours; I don’t think I +quite took it in at first. His nerve’s shaken. What do you think we’d +better do about it? Medal suggests sea-bathing. Did you notice the boy +was at all upset?” + +Mrs. Arden looked at the back of the squire’s head with tender +exasperation. + +“Yes, dear,” she said. “When I gave him his tea—when he first came in, +you know—his hands shook. Anthony always has such perfectly steady +hands. I don’t think sea-bathing would help him at all. I want him to go +and stay with Daphne. So many young people run in and out there in such +a simple, free-and-easy way, I think it might be good for him. I have +written to Daphne about it. It seems to me that some really nice girl, +whose people we knew all about, would quiet Anthony’s nerves down better +than anything.” + +“Marry him?” said the squire, reflectively. “That’s what you’re up to, +is it? Well, of course he’s Pannell to think of now; but falling in love +mightn’t have such a quieting effect as you seem to fancy, Mary. I can +remember that it had rather a stimulating effect on me.” + +“It depends,” said his wife, slipping his pocket-handkerchief under his +pillow, “on whom you fall in love with. I specially said to Daphne—a +nice, quiet girl.” + + + CHAPTER VI + +Ruth Mellicot had perhaps rather too classic a brow; it rose above her +clear gray eyes, white and firm and a little high. She would have made a +perfect model for Minerva. + +She had been to Girton, and besides a very quiet manner and an ability +to follow the points of an argument, however abstruse, she spoke in a +low, pleasant voice very agreeable to listen to. There was no reason why +it should make people feel as if they had gone back to the school-room. + +Both Daphne and Jim liked her extremely. She was a woman to be relied +upon in every emergency and she was never in the way. She was modern in +her ideas, without coming into conflict with respectability. She had +grasped the convenient truth that it is well to think a century ahead, +and to act a century behind the present. She was very open-minded about +the other world and extremely clear-headed about this one. + +Anthony could talk to her upon any subject he liked. He had always +thought it was absurd that women should have to be talked to as if the +facts of life did not exist for them in the presence of the opposite +sex. If you wanted to know what a woman thought about life, she should +be capable of telling you without shirking facts or showing +embarrassment. + +Ruth was perfectly capable of telling Anthony what she thought upon any +subject; she shirked nothing, and it was Anthony who felt embarrassed. +She regarded him with her grave, candid eyes as if they were +fellow-students at a lecture, discussing one of the subjects in their +course. She said that men and women must work together on the +dissecting-tables of life, and doctors do not like illustrations about +dissecting-tables. Daphne argued afterward with Jim that they oughtn’t +to have been left so much alone together. + +It was wonderful weather for April, the kind of weather that seemed +designed for long country rambles, teas at wayside inns, and late +returns in time to dress for dinner. Anthony had explained to Daphne +that if she wanted him really to make friends with Ruth Mellicot, they +must be a great deal alone together. He made friends slowly, and he did +not think women ever showed their real selves before a third person. + +When Daphne said, “Do they before a second?” Anthony smiled the smile of +a man who has reason to believe in his own power of discrimination, and +replied that they probably did it unconsciously. + +Ruth looked very well in coats and skirts, and walking suited her. In +the evening she did not show to such advantage. Good walkers seldom do. +She was not exactly clumsy, but her figure appeared rather pointless. +When she moved she seemed to be shouldering her way through obstacles. +There was very little slope to her shoulders, and her elbows and wrists +were more prominent than they should have been. + +Her conversation was extremely interesting. She read the newspapers +carefully, and Anthony never heard her jump ahead of her facts. Ruth did +not always share Anthony’s opinions, but she was prepared to listen to +his arguments, and he could see that on the whole she wanted to agree +with him. + +Ruth was twenty-five, and in a sensible, unferocious way she wished to +get married. She hoped to find a man of her class with steady +principles, a moderate income, and more or less the same ideals. A man +who would wish to have a happy, hygienic home, two or three healthy +children, and who had a genuine desire to improve the world up to a +certain point. Ruth did not wish a crank; cranks wish to improve the +world unreasonably and involve their personal futures in their efforts. +Ruth did not think this a very necessary or desirable attitude. People’s +individual futures should run on one line, and their efforts to reform +the world should run on another, and these two lines should be parallel +and never meet. When she said she feared fanatics and disliked cranks +this was what she meant. It is what people usually do mean. Anthony +agreed with her, only he meant something a little different. Before he +had been two years in prison he would have meant something exactly the +same. + +Ruth studied Anthony much as he was studying her. She had the same +prospect in view; if she liked him, she meant to marry him. + +It did not annoy Anthony to guess this fact. On the contrary, it rather +amused him. He liked her quiet, appraising eyes and her distinct and +unevasive questions. Sometimes he found them a little too difficult to +answer, but he appreciated her asking them. She was not at all eager to +attract him, which would have frightened him, nor did she appear to be +greatly attracted by him. + +Their cards were all out on the table, and they played them in turn +without any effort at concealment. It sent Daphne and Jim into fits of +laughter. + +Daphne and Jim weren’t superior about their happiness. It was a child of +so much danger and uncertainty that even now when life appeared open +before it, they walked delicately, like an Agag, and hid the sharpness +of their joy. But they could not hide their happiness itself. They +existed in a charmed circle of love, and though they looked over the +edge of it from time to time, their inner life was complete, and +uninterrupted by the actions of others. + +“Of course,” Anthony observed to Daphne when Ruth had left them to +change her shoes, most sensibly, without a suggestion from Anthony, +after they had been caught in a shower, “it’s an immense comfort to hear +exactly what a woman thinks about things. I appreciate it awfully and +all that, you know. Miss Mellicot’s just been telling me what she +expects of a husband. Daphne, if you laugh into your tea like that +you’ll choke. Only it occurred to me to wonder if you’d ever put it +quite like that to Jim.” + +“My dear,” said Daphne, chuckling, “as if I should have dared! And if I +had dared, it wouldn’t have mattered. You see, I never thought about him +in the least like that. I don’t now. He was just Jim.” + +“Still,” Anthony protested, “you must have said to yourself some time or +other before you fell in love with him: ‘What kind of fellow is this, +good or bad? Would he make a good father for my children? That kind of +thing—what?’” + +Daphne’s eyes brimmed with laughter. She shook her head violently. + +“I never said anything of the kind,” she answered him. “I always thought +of him as Jim, _not_ as a man, and I was terrified he’d fall out of his +aëroplane and be killed before I knew if he really loved me, and I +didn’t think about anybody’s children for millions of years afterward. +Of course I dare say goodness was a part of his being Jim, but not +nearly _all_ of it. Badness wouldn’t have mattered if it hadn’t altered +him. Of course I suppose some kinds of badness _do_ really alter people. +That must be awful, like losing your way in a fog—your way _home_—when +you _know_ it so frightfully well really; but it wouldn’t stop being +your home, would it?” + +Daphne became quite serious, looking at Anthony over her bread and +butter. It was funny to think of Ruth and Anthony, but it wasn’t funny +to think how badness might alter love. + +“Of course,” said Anthony, “neither Miss Mellicot nor I sentimentalize +nature. If you act on sane principles, sufficient emotion will follow +later; only—” his face slightly clouded as he regarded his sister’s +shining eyes—“I must confess, Daphne, just between you and me, you +know, that it’s rather like going to a dentist without a toothache.” + +“Doesn’t it ache the least little bit?” Daphne asked with anxiety as +Ruth came into the room. + +Anthony shook his head, and looked consideringly at the tall, tidy young +woman in front of the tea-table. Ruth did her hair very well. It was +bright, smooth, brown hair, and very thick. + +“Not in the least, thanks,” said Anthony a little dryly. “I haven’t felt +even a preliminary twinge. Won’t you have one of these little pink +things, Miss Mellicot?” + +“I’ll have bread and butter first, please,” said Ruth. “It’s the good +old nursery rule, isn’t it?” + +And then the door opened, and Kitty came in. + +She did not wait to be announced as “Miss Costrelle.” She simply threw a +long, blue chiffon scarf on a chair, followed by a gold handbag and a +perfectly insufficient umbrella with a jeweled handle; then she embraced +Daphne. + +“I know I oughtn’t to have come,” she said apologetically, for the only +welcome Daphne gave her was to say reproachfully, “O Kitty! Kitty!” + +“It was only tea. I literally was dying for some on the doorstep, and +the next house was miles off and full of women who hate me like poison, +and won’t say so except when they think I’m looking the other way. And I +thought you wouldn’t like Jimmy to find me just _dead_ on the mat. It +would make him think you such a bad housekeeper. + +“This is your brother, isn’t it? I’ve met Miss Mellicot before, I +believe. I’m awfully afraid of her. You are the one who went to Girton, +aren’t you? I can’t think why Daphne has such awfully clever friends; +she isn’t a bit clever herself, really, is she, Captain Arden? Of course +I know _you_ are, but men don’t matter. One isn’t afraid of _their_ +cleverness.” + +“Give her her tea,” said Daphne, resignedly. She seemed to be +simultaneously annoyed and amused at the appearance of her unexpected +visitor. “She’s not really afraid of anybody’s cleverness.” + +Kitty laughed over her tea-cup at Anthony. Her eyes, which were almost +black and a little narrow at the corners, laughed, too; her long emerald +ear-rings laughed at him. Everything about her glittered and sparkled, +and seemed in some strange way directed straight at Anthony. + +She took what color there was out of Miss Mellicot as sunshine takes the +light out of a fire. + +“Of course I’ve heard all about you,” she said, making room for Anthony +on the sofa beside her. “Daphne’s really awfully fond of me, though you +mightn’t think it. I’m one of her secret sins. She keeps me for dull, +rainy days, as you keep chocolates and tell people you have a headache, +and then shut yourself up with a box of them and a good detective story. +Don’t you ever do that? Don’t you, Miss Mellicot?” + +“I never eat chocolates,” said Ruth, coldly. + +Daphne groaned inwardly. It was not the moment for Ruth to repudiate +chocolates. + +Kitty opened her eyes wider than ever. She had black lashes which curled +upward, and when she laughed her eyelashes swept together and made her +look as if her eyes were shut. + +“Wouldn’t Miss Mellicot make a good food-controller?” Kitty murmured. +“Perhaps you were one during the war, Miss Mellicot? I often wondered +who the Government really got hold of. I don’t believe men did that kind +of thing themselves, poor dears. There must have been some really clever +people behind the scenes who knew just how much food there really was, +and what was absolutely necessary for babies. Somebody very competent +who didn’t mind people not having what they wanted.” + +“Do you suppose that women are the only sex who wish to deprive others +of what they want?” asked Miss Mellicot, disdainfully. “You don’t appear +to have a high opinion of your sisters.” + +“They’re the only people who really seem to mind my having what I want,” +said Kitty, plaintively. “Still, of course, it wouldn’t be any fun +getting it if nobody minded your having it, would it? Do you play +billiards, Captain Arden? Yes?” Anthony nodded. + +“They have a really good table here,” Kitty said, directing a glance at +Daphne’s increasing gravity. “I’ve finished my tea now, and it’s begun +to rain again, so I can’t possibly go home. It would be such a pity to +spoil this hat, wouldn’t it, Miss Mellicot? But perhaps you don’t wear +hats?” + +“Not such perishable ones—in the country,” agreed Miss Mellicot, +smoothly. + +“It would die in a good cause,” said Anthony with appreciation, studying +the golden wing that rested on Kitty’s dark, wavy hair. + +Miss Mellicot’s lips tightened. It was the first time Anthony had seen +her with tight lips. They accentuated her likeness to Minerva. + +Kitty smiled at Anthony. Then she turned coaxingly to Daphne. + +“We may just as well have a game now, mayn’t we, Daphne?” she urged. “Or +is it bad for Captain Arden to play billiards?” + +“It’s remarkably good for him,” said Anthony, quickly. + +He had an intense desire to get Kitty away from Miss Mellicot. Of course +it was Kitty who was behaving badly, but, curiously enough, it was not +Miss Mellicot whom Anthony wished to take away from Kitty. + +Miss Mellicot behaved extremely well. It is quite compatible with +behaving well to look like one of the Muses in the Vatican. There is a +didactic Muse fronting the stairs, who keeps a thin little finger very +levelly lifted. She seems to warn the approaching onlooker not to be +carried away by his feelings. + +Miss Mellicot did not lift her finger. She merely turned her eyes a +little fixedly on Anthony. Anthony avoided her glance. Perhaps some day +it would be his domestic duty to meet fixed glances and reply to them, +but at present he slipped into fluidity. He hurried out of the room +behind Kitty. + +When they were in the hall, with the door shut, Kitty turned and laughed +at him. + +“Now,” she said, “I know you are _really_ brave, Captain Arden. Do you +know how I should describe Miss Mellicot?” + +“No,” said Anthony; “but I have no doubt your description would be +picturesque and a little unfair.” + +“No, it wouldn’t,” said Kitty, petulantly, throwing open the +billiard-room door. “I shouldn’t be a bit unfair to her. I should +describe her as a perfect wife and mother.” + +Anthony found himself saying in a tone which he had never dreamed of +using with Ruth Mellicot: + +“_You_ deserve to have your ears boxed.” But it was a perfectly suitable +tone to use with Kitty. She merely made a face at him over her shoulder. + +He watched her with delight swing down her cue and chalk it. She had +fine little hands and delicate wrists; her short skirts revealed the +neatest feet and ankles Anthony had ever seen. Every line of her small, +graceful figure told. She was beautifully dressed, with that unnecessary +expensive luxury which Ruth and Anthony had mutually deplored in modern +women. + +Anthony could hear the rustle of her silk petticoats as she swung round, +and see through her transparent chiffon blouse the lace and ribbons +under it. Kitty’s lips were artificially reddened, and her small, +tip-tilted nose was powdered. She had taken no pains to disguise the +fact. She was a minx, a flirt, and a perfectly obvious danger-signal to +any sane man. + +And yet almost all sane men would have done precisely what Anthony did. +He followed her into the billiard-room to see what she was up to. + +She heaved a little sigh of relief when the door closed. + +“I don’t really like women, you know,” she told him, “except Daphne, and +not Daphne when she’s cross with me, and she’s awfully cross with me +to-day. Still she’s generally kind to me; other women aren’t.” + +“I should hardly suppose that you gave them much reason to be,” said +Anthony, with his eyes on the poise of her figure bending over the +table. + +“Still,” said Kitty, looking up at him with dancing eyes, “I don’t know +that I give men much _reason_, and yet men are always kind to me, even +awfully clever ones like you. And even when I behave—and I do sometimes +behave, you know—like a perfect fiend.” + +“I can well believe it,” said Anthony. “Do you like to start, or shall +I?” + +Anthony did not believe that Kitty could really play billiards. He +thought billiards was one of her ways of escape from other women. But he +was mistaken. Kitty played a most excellent game of billiards, and was +really fond of it; only she could play more than one game at a time. + +“I’m being a fiend now,” said Kitty in a low voice, like a subdued +child’s. “Perhaps you didn’t know it, but I am—a fiend to Daphne. I +promised not to come all the while you were here. Wasn’t it awful to +break it, when Daphne’s been so tremendously good to me, and Jim, too, +only Jim doesn’t count. And it wasn’t true about the tea—it was just +curiosity.” + +“Well,” said Anthony, “I hope your curiosity is satisfied agreeably. May +I ask why you promised not to come here during my visit?” + +Kitty measured her shot carefully, took it successfully, and looked up +at him. + +“Daphne thought I should be bad for you,” she said. “You see, I am +usually supposed to be rather bad for men.” + +Anthony aimed, and missed. It was an easy stroke and Anthony couldn’t +think how he had come to miss it. + +“Do you try to be?” he asked her. + +Kitty hung her head. + +“Sometimes I try to be,” said Kitty. + +“Are you trying now?” Anthony asked her. “Because I rather fancy you’re +putting me off my game.” + +“I don’t want to do that,” said Kitty, quickly; “not a bit. Do you +_like_ Miss Mellicot? Is she a great comfort to you, I mean? If you were +unhappy, you couldn’t put your head against her as if she were a +cushion, could you? It would be rather like leaning against one of those +marble block tombstones, the ones that lie flat on the ground, and you +feel no one could resurrect under them. Of course she has quite a good +figure, really; only I’m _sure_ her bones are hard.” + +“I have not attempted to take that particular form of comfort from Miss +Mellicot, if that is what you are asking me,” said Anthony, trying hard +to keep his gravity. “It’s your turn, I think. I’ve missed again; there +must be something wrong about my confounded cue.” + +“Use mine for a change,” said Kitty, sweetly. “I hope you don’t mind +what I said about Miss Mellicot’s bones?” + +Anthony did not mean to touch Kitty’s hand; the thing simply happened. +He felt it slim and warm under his fingers. Kitty’s long eyelashes fell +over her eyes and hid them. He could not tell if what had happened had +happened purposely; he only knew that it was difficult to take away his +hand. + +“You haven’t said if you really like her,” declared Kitty after a pause. + +“I really like her very much,” said Anthony, dryly. + +“Now it’s your turn again,” said Kitty, gaily. “You ought to be more +careful this time, Captain Arden. I don’t believe you took aim properly +before. I’m rather glad you like her as little as that.” + +It occurred to Anthony that probably when other men were alone with +Kitty, and she said this kind of thing, they kissed her. The thought of +it stung him intolerably. + +“Look here,” he said fiercely, “why do you talk to me as if you cared a +hang what I think of anybody? You know you don’t. I suppose it’s your +usual way of talking to men you’ve met half an hour ago, but I tell you +plainly I don’t care for it. You’ve no right to behave as if it mattered +to you what I think when it doesn’t, or as if it mattered to me what +_you_ think when—when—” + +“When it doesn’t?” asked Kitty, softly. “It’s rather horrid of you to +say that, even if it’s true.” + +“Well, you haven’t any right—” said Anthony, sulkily. He wouldn’t look +at her, but he knew perfectly well what she looked like. She had caught +her upper lip with one of her teeth and was trying to prevent herself +smiling. + +“As if having rights mattered,” said Kitty. “You are silly, Captain +Arden.” + +Anthony put down his cue deliberately and faced her. + +“I don’t know this game,” he said quietly. “Am I supposed to kiss you? +Because in about twenty seconds that is what is going to happen whether +I am supposed to or not.” + +Kitty tossed her head defiantly, then said unexpectedly: + +“Oh, I am a mean little cur to break my promise to Daphne,” and without +a word of explanation she flung herself into one of Jim’s neat leather +arm-chairs, buried her head in her arms, and shook pitifully with sobs. + +Anthony found himself on his knees beside her, with one arm across her +shoulders. + +“Don’t; don’t, my dear child, my dear baby!” he whispered. “If I was a +brute and rough, I’m awfully sorry. I won’t touch you. You can say +whatever naughty, silly thing you like. Is that what you’re crying for?” + +Kitty shook her head. She was crying without tears, as boys do who have +been beaten in a race. + +Anthony drew her into his arms and held her close against him. She made +no effort to release herself, nor did she seem aware of him. She fought +silently to control her sobs. Anthony felt as if he had a bird’s heart +throbbing under his hand. She was such an exquisite, delicate creature! +Perfume and softness breathed from her small crushed figure. At last +Kitty raised her head and pushed away his encircling arms. + +“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I know it wasn’t fair even to cry; but I +couldn’t help that. Just for a moment you looked, when you were angry, +so like Dick—that was why I came to see you; I have such a funny +feeling, as if I must see the men who do come back. You see, Dick and I +were engaged. But he went off so quickly, before we could be married. He +was in the regular army—Mons—and then he was missing. I couldn’t stop +hoping. I hoped quite awfully and steadily for two years, then I knew it +was no good. I didn’t care what happened then. I don’t care now, and I +never shall in the least care what happens. I just amuse myself.” + +Anthony put his hands on her shoulders and met her defiant eyes; beneath +the defiance he saw her frightened, broken heart. + +He saw her as Daphne had seen her, not as the easier men who flirted +with her saw her, or as the angry women whose jealousy she roused saw +her. The pity and the waste of it went through him like a knife. + +“You poor little thing!” he said gently. “You poor, dear little thing!” + +She sprang away from him quickly. + +“No, no,” she said; “I’m _not_ like that. I’m not poor. You needn’t be +sorry for me. I do just as I like, and I enjoy myself awfully. I dare +say I shall enjoy myself awfully with you. I’m sorry I made such a fuss. +I haven’t cried like that for ages. It was just—that you reminded me; +besides, I could see you’ve had a pretty bad time yourself. If you’d +really liked that woman, I’d have left you alone. You do believe that, +don’t you?” + +“I propose to believe everything you ever tell me,” said Anthony, +steadily. “But aren’t you going to leave me alone?” + +She turned and faced him. + +“Do you want me to?” Kitty asked. Her eyes widened again, the corners of +her mouth quivered, all of her became as it had been before—a +glittering, dancing, creature, as bright and strong as a steel magnet. + +Anthony made a few steps toward her. + +“No,” he said reluctantly; “I suppose I don’t want you to leave me +alone.” + + + CHAPTER VII + +Miss Mellicot behaved extremely well. She did not go away at once, and +she never in Anthony’s presence referred to Kitty. What she said to +Daphne on the subject of Kitty, in the privacy of her bedroom, might +have been taken from the most outspoken of the classics. She had not +been to Girton for nothing. + +Miss Mellicot was direct, and in her quiet and ladylike voice she +stripped the career of Kitty Costrelle of all the pity and tenderness +with which Daphne had attempted to cover it. + +“It does not do to sentimentalize about facts, Daphne,” Ruth told her. +“This is the kind of girl you have chosen for a friend, and your +brother, whose judgment is much less sound than I thought, has had to +take the consequences.” + +“As if,” Daphne said afterward indignantly to Jim, “you could arrange +human beings in pockets, like cocoa—so much hot water to so much +sugar—and know exactly what kind of cup you were going to get at the +end of it.” + +But at the time Daphne could think of no evasive comparisons. She was +crushed under the weight of fact. She had gone to Ruth’s bedroom because +she was afraid that Ruth would be unhappy, but Ruth was not unhappy. She +was very seldom unhappy, and she was almost invariably right. + +Jimmy drove Miss Mellicot to the station at the end of the week, when +her visit came to a not too noticeable close. + +Anthony had meant to fulfil this office, but he came in so late for +lunch that he had to be left in the dining-room with some reproachfully +cold mince. + +Anthony assured himself that he was under no obligation to Miss +Mellicot, and that she was far too sensible a woman to suppose that he +was; but as he stood by the French window in the dining-room watching +her drive off with Jim, he felt a little uncomfortable. + +Miss Mellicot looked very well in a high dog-cart. Her veils and pins +never betrayed her, and she kept her hat on without visible effort. +These traits are indicative of character, the kind of character which +Anthony particularly liked; and yet when the dog-cart had disappeared +from view behind the laurel-bushes, Anthony returned to his cold mince +with a sigh of unmistakable relief. + +He had kept his own counsel for forty-eight hours while he considered +that he was thinking things over. Anthony told himself that he was not +going to act precipitately about Kitty. He was going to ask Daphne a few +straight questions first. + +When he had finished his lunch he went out into the garden to ask them. +Merry Gardens was not an old place, like Pannell; it was a comfortable, +two-storied house, which rambled conveniently enough between a +cedar-tree on a small, sloping lawn to the edge of the fields, which +swallowed it up on three sides. + +Daphne lay in a hammock under the cedar-tree planning new beds for the +following spring. It was an absorbing occupation, and peculiarly +difficult to carry on in a hammock, owing to the size of garden-books, +the fluttering quality of catalogues, and the hopelessness (in a +hammock) of once letting go of a pencil. + +She did not hear Anthony approach, and he sat for some time gazing +straight in front of him before he broached the question of Kitty. His +eyes absorbed the pleasant, easy landscape of Rochett. + +Essex is supposed to be an ugly county by those who do not live in it, +but it contrives, once you get away from the endless ramifications of +Liverpool Street Station, to have a very pretty little air of its own. +It is like one of those women who, without being showily attractive, +know how to carry their heads. + +As a county it frequently ignores its reputation for flatness, and +breaks away into the roundness of small, covered hills, and no one has +ever accused Essex of not being green. + +From the cedar-tree on the lawn the fields sloped softly away into +innumerable folds of wooded copse and distant orchards. The rich +pasture-lands glowed in the mild April sunshine with a light that was +all their own. It had none of the emphatic clarity of the South, or the +delicate, fine shades of northern Europe; it was a soft and lovely +coloring that caused in Anthony an unexpected tightening of the heart. + +When he had been given six weeks’ solitary confinement in a whitewashed +cell for making too many complaints about the condition of his camp, he +had been haunted by just such a landscape. He slipped his hand out to +touch the rough bark of the cedar, to make sure of himself. He did not +want to wake up suddenly and find the picture fade. + +He wanted to keep the green blur of fields, the small group of cottages +looking as if they were a thatched and mossy plant native to the soil +itself, and the spire of the thick-set church across the village green +safe in his eyes forever. Something in the tension of his figure caught +his sister’s attention. She looked up quickly. + +“Oh, Anthony,” she said, “how quietly you came out and how still you +are! You look as if you were holding everything still with you, except, +of course, my catalogues of Dutch bulbs. The attempts they make to get +over the side of the hammock nobody could control. Poor Ruth! Did you +see her drive away? She’s so nice, really. I half hoped, and half didn’t +hope, you’d like her.” + +“That,” said Anthony, feeling suddenly freed from the fixity of his +attention, “was exactly how I liked her. Would you mind telling me why +you asked Miss Costrelle not to come here during my visit? She made me +feel rather a fool when she told me it was your arrangement to keep her +out of the house while I was here. Did you suppose I couldn’t keep my +head with a pretty girl, or had you anything in particular against her? +Forgive me for asking you, but I want to make up my mind about going to +see her. I haven’t been yet, you know. I felt I couldn’t; but I’d rather +like to now, unless there is some very definite reason against it.” + +“I wasn’t thinking of your head being turned,” said Daphne, slowly. She +knew this question would come, and she had tried to prepare herself to +meet it; but she wished that Jimmy were with her to give her the +security of his admiration. She felt her tact might be a little fallible +before Anthony’s keen, gray eyes. “I was thinking most, I suppose, of +poor little Kitty. But of course I thought of you, too, Anthony; I +didn’t want you to be disturbed. You’ve got so many new things to get +used to, and Kitty would be rather a tremendous new one if you really +got intimate with her. She wouldn’t be like Ruth, an experience you can +take or leave in cold blood.” + +“I don’t wish to take life like a nursing home,” interrupted Anthony a +little unfairly, for Ruth was not like a nursing home. “But why ‘poor +Kitty’? You might tell me, I think, a little more about Miss Costrelle.” + +“Oh, I’ll tell you anything,” agreed Daphne, rapidly, “anything I can, +of course, and I know what you mean about life; only there’s rather a +difference between taking it like a nursing home and taking it like the +Niagara Rapids. + +“Jimmy knew Kitty first, before he knew me, you know, and one day he +told me about her, after her lover was killed. Jimmy was sure he was +killed in 1914. Kitty was awfully plucky. She drove a motor-ambulance in +France for two years without a break. She was considered one of their +very best drivers. She never seemed to mind what she did or where she +went, or what she saw; she seemed made of iron and fire. And then, of +course, she broke down. No one could have stood her unrelenting work, +and no one could stop her. When she stopped she just gave up +everything—hope and her old habits and her work. She came back here, an +unprotected little flame, burning whatever she came across. Nothing +could persuade her to settle down or take up any fresh interests. + +“Her father is a perfect old rip who used to own most of the land about +here. He has succeeded in getting rid of all of it except an old +farm-house he fortunately settled on Kitty as a present when she came of +age. She lives there now, on and off, with an old nurse, and a French +cook she picked up on her travels, and I believe her father turns up +occasionally for week-ends. The greater part of his life is spent in +London with a queer collection of blackguards and anonymous ladies. + +“Jimmy and I have tried awfully hard to get Kitty received in the +neighborhood. She used to be, of course, but now people are inclined +to cold-shoulder her. She won’t go to church or do any of the usual +things, and of course, as you see for yourself, she flirts with +every man she comes across. I knew, if she saw you, she’d at least +attempt it with you, and I don’t believe you know how to flirt—do you, +Anthony?—properly.” + +“I’m not at all sure I couldn’t learn,” said Anthony, consideringly, +lighting a cigarette. “Of course it was quite sensible of you and Jim to +try to get her out of my way; but now that she’s come and seen and +conquered what do you propose to do about it?” + +“What do you want me to do about it?” asked Daphne. “I wasn’t going to +do anything.” + +“That’s what I want you to do,” said Anthony, throwing away his +match—“leave us alone. I won’t do Miss Costrelle any particular harm if +I can help it, but I don’t propose to cut her acquaintance merely +because she has had an unfortunate bringing-up and indulges in a risqué +manner. It will be an interesting experience for me to know a flirt.” + +Daphne said nothing. If this was the result of forty-eight hours’ solid +reflection on the part of Anthony, she doubted if anything she could say +would add to the weight of it. + +Anthony felt sure from his knowledge of women that if Daphne had +anything to urge against Kitty, she would very properly have urged it. +She would not have invented adverse facts, but she would have stated +picturesquely what adverse facts there were. He argued from her silence +that there was none. He was relieved by Daphne’s account of Kitty, and +he did not realize that he had intended to be relieved by whatever +account of Kitty he received. + +He met Kitty on his way to the farm. She was driving a two-seated, +rakish car round a precipitous corner. She pulled up when she saw him. + +“Your brother-in-law is a splendid whip,” she observed. “I came right on +to him suddenly at the end of Clatter’s Lane. I didn’t do it on purpose, +but there’s an awfully sharp turn, and I wasn’t expecting anything. I +got by without touching the cart, but Polly bolted. Miss Mellicot didn’t +scream. She just held her hat on most sensibly. She wears rather hard +hats, doesn’t she? Jim swore.” + +“Did you happen to see the result of Polly’s bolting?” Anthony asked +with what gravity he could muster. + +Kitty had on a purple slouch hat drawn nearly over her eyes, and tied by +a long, purple scarf. She wore amethyst ear-rings, and a big bunch of +Neapolitan violets was pinned to her breast. These facts served to +reduce the anxiety with which Anthony waited to hear the fate of the +dog-cart. + +“Oh, Jimmy must have got her in hand all right,” said Kitty, easily. +“They’d be back by now in pieces if he hadn’t. You ought to have driven +Miss Mellicot to the station yourself, you know, Captain Arden. I do +think it was rather shabby of you not to. Do you want to have a spin in +my car? I’ll take you if Daphne knows you were coming to see me. You +were coming to see me, weren’t you?” + +Anthony nodded, and got into the car. Kitty turned it toward the distant +hills without waiting for a further answer. + +“Daphne knows perfectly,” said Anthony at length, “what my plans are, +and she’s been telling me all about you.” + +Kitty kept her eyes on the road without speaking. They flew along in +silence for a few minutes. Then she said in a curious, flat little +voice: + +“Whatever she said was true, you know, Captain Arden.” + +“She might have told me,” said Anthony as they shot through the village +and tore breathlessly to left and right down country lanes and +palpitating commons, “that you habitually exceeded the speed limit.” + +“I wonder she didn’t tell you that,” said Kitty, with a sudden dimple. +“But perhaps she thought that, as you were so very clever, you would +have guessed it. D’you mind how fast we go?” + +Anthony shook his head. He wasn’t going to explain to Kitty what it felt +like, after sitting for two years in a small compound watching a man +with a gun on the other side of a barbed-wire fence, with a wall beyond +it, to be melting through space with the rapidity of a flying cloud. + +He was not sure that he was afraid, but the sense of habitual unreality +which possessed him was sharper than ever before. He felt as if some +fine cord connecting him with the universe had been severed, and that he +might at any moment find himself carried off into bottomless space. He +lost the sense of his own body, and held on to his racing mind with all +the strength that was left in him. + +It was difficult to talk while Kitty was driving. She shaved disaster +habitually by the turn of a hair; her small, steady hand barely touched +the steering-wheel; her eyes ate up the oncoming road with a searching +eagerness. + +There were moments when it seemed to Anthony that she was not aware of +what she was doing: she drove in a trance of speed. The wind caught her +hair and blew it flat against her face, then lifted it suddenly, +revealing her long-lashed, sparkling eyes, shining as water shines when +trees are blown backward from a hidden pool. Her lips were parted with a +fierce enjoyment. The purple scarf furled and unfurled itself against +Anthony’s cheek. + +Once or twice she turned her head toward him and laughed a little. + +“Your nerve seems to be all right,” she assured him when they had +escaped a donkey-cart by a miracle and hustled a perilous pathway +through a herd of cows. “I wonder what it feels like to be afraid of +being hurt,” she added speculatively. “I don’t mean disliking it. I +dislike it myself intensely, but I can’t imagine not doing anything I +wanted because I was afraid of anything, can you?” + +“Yes, I can,” said Anthony, looking away from her. “I can imagine being +afraid of all sorts of things—noises—angry voices, people’s eyes, not +getting food when your whole body aches for it, thinking that perhaps +you are going to be left without water, or seeing things that haven’t +happened, but which you know _may_ happen. Look here, don’t let’s talk +about fear, Miss Costrelle. It’s something that’s inside you, and +fierce, like a wild beast in a cage; it’s all right if you keep the bars +shut. I can manage all my wild beasts quite comfortably then, but I +don’t want to feel as if any one’s hand was on the lock, fingering at +the bars. Understand fear? I can understand any mortal thing about fear +except people’s being able to overcome it. That I haven’t been able to +understand. Do you despise me for being a coward, or think I shall get +quite right with plenty of good hard exercise and a quart of milk a +day?” + +“Miss Mellicot said that, didn’t she?” asked Kitty. + +She put on speed for a long stretch of flat road, and then looked at +Anthony. + +“Of course I don’t think you’re a coward,” she said. “I didn’t mean that +kind of being afraid, though perhaps it helps you to understand the +_personal-skin_ fear, which was what I did mean.” + +“I have that, too,” said Anthony, quietly. + +“Well,” said Kitty, gently, “if you have, you’ll just set your teeth and +hold on. The people I mean don’t. They let their teeth and everything +else go. They expect to be held on _to_. I know you aren’t like them; +that’s why I want to be friends. It’s rather fine when you know how, +isn’t it? I don’t mean being friends, but just setting your teeth and +holding on. Would you prefer being a dormouse and sleeping through all +your winters?” + +“Ah, you’re not given the blessed chance,” said Anthony. “I’d close with +the dormouse to-morrow, Miss Costrelle, if I had the choice; but it’s +winters during which my imagination is particularly lively. Why do you +drive with your gloves off? You’ll get your hands cold.” + +“You can warm them if you like,” said Kitty, calmly, “turn and turn +about. I can drive just as easily with my left hand. I like to see my +rings when I’m driving.” + +“It’s very nice of you,” said Anthony, “to make me such an offer; but I +don’t propose to have any of your friends, or even enemies, +witness—what shall I call them?—your gloveless vagaries.” + +“You’re too particular,” said Kitty. “Other men aren’t so particular, +Captain Arden.” + +Anthony shot a vexed glance at her. Why was she like a charming, +confidential child one moment, and an Eve with the hard knowledge of the +ages in her the next? + +“I don’t intend to treat you as you imply other men treat you,” he said +coldly. “I have my own methods.” + +“They treat me,” said Kitty, defiantly, “exactly as I intend to have +them treat me. I believe you think that I’m a poor little persecuted +angel half the time and a maddening little fool the other half. I’m +nothing of the kind. I’m twenty-three, and I know my way about +considerably better than you do. Shall I drop you here? We’ve come +another way round. My house is up this lane and then to the right. Be +rather careful how you turn, for I’m apt to come suddenly round the +corner, and I always forget to sound my horn till afterward. I’m +expecting my one and only parent just now, so I sha’n’t ask you in. He’s +a very entertaining person. I can’t say you’re very entertaining +yourself, Captain Arden, but I dare say I shall get used to you in +time.” + +“I’m glad to hear that,” said Anthony, “because it sounds as if you mean +to give me time.” + +Kitty pulled up to let him out. There was no one in the lane, and +Anthony put his hand over hers and held it there. + +She looked at him moodily with eyes which had suddenly turned dark and +lifeless. + +Anthony had never seen a face which depended so for its beauty upon its +expression. When Kitty wished, her face became like a house with all its +blinds down. She shut out everything, even her prettiness. + +For a moment she looked like that now, speculative and sulky, as if she +questioned Anthony’s possible worth to her, and was annoyed with him for +not possessing it more obviously. Then she shrugged her shoulders and +withdrew her hand. + +“Oh, yes,” she said petulantly, “I suppose I do. You’re rather +strong-minded and odd, and I dare say you’ll amuse me for a time. Only, +for goodness’ sake, don’t try to take care of me or show me what I’m +_not_ like and ought to be! I really couldn’t stand that. I’m just what +I _am_, you know, and you’re just what you are, and that’s quite +different.” + +“And if you’ve done with some of those Neapolitan violets,” said +Anthony, unexpectedly to himself, “you can hand them over to me.” + +Kitty laughed, and unfastened the bunch. + +“You can have them all,” she said. “Father will only ask who I put them +on for!” + +“I don’t want all,” explained Anthony, carefully; “I want exactly half.” + +He took them from her as he spoke, and repinned the rest with a steady +hand. + +“You do pin flowers on nicely,” Kitty remarked. “I will say that for +you. Most men expect pins to stick into space, and let the flowers +dribble all over you. I suppose it’s because you’re a doctor. You have a +wonderfully steady hand, Captain Arden, even for a doctor.” + +“It’s just as well,” explained Anthony, laughing at her. “You should +know that you are not as intoxicating as you appear to imagine. I’m very +pleased to have the violets, but they don’t excite me.” + +“That sounds rather like a challenge,” said Kitty, while the laughter +shot back into her eyes again. “A dangerous kind of challenge for you to +make, coming on the top of the violets.” + +“Ah, but I got my half safely first,” said Anthony. “I ran no risk over +it.” + +“You got half of what I didn’t want,” agreed Kitty, still laughing. +“Good-by, Captain Arden. Don’t be too sure about that risk.” + +She shot away from him through the leafy lane. The boughs met over her +head and hid her from his eyes. The lane seemed curiously still and +empty after she had gone; almost as if the spring had followed her out +of it. + + + CHAPTER VIII + +Anthony knew that Daphne and Jim disapproved of his intimacy with Kitty. +They never interfered with him and they never let their disapproval out +in words, but it was as solid as a mahogany table. They used the silent +pressure of sensible and kindly people who expect common sense to +triumph in the end if nothing is done to rouse bad blood by argument. +They didn’t invite Kitty to the house, and they never asked Anthony +where he had been. + +On one occasion Jim, at Daphne’s instigation, went a shade further: he +made a statement about Kitty that was not in her favor. + +“It’s no use my saying anything,” Daphne privately urged him. “You see, +men like Anthony believe what other men tell them about women, when they +won’t believe what other women tell them. If I say anything about Kitty, +Anthony’ll think it’s because I’m fond of him or vexed with Kitty or +recently married; but he’ll think you _know_. Put it in your own words, +of course; it’ll be worse if he thinks I’m behind you.” + +Jim cleared his throat. He had not even told Daphne what he thought +about Kitty in his own words. Men’s thoughts about Kitty eluded words. +They did not think about her; they felt her. But Jim realized quite as +strongly as Daphne that it would be a good thing to pull Anthony up. + +“The trouble is,” he explained a little uncertainly, “that you never +know about a girl—whether you’re pulling a man up or setting him on by +letting fly at her.” + +“Oh, don’t let fly at her!” cried Daphne, suddenly remorseful. “Poor +little Kitty! Just say what she _is_, you know.” + +Jim grunted. As if he could say what Kitty was without letting fly at +her! He was not yet accustomed to the way in which Daphne slipped +between the meshes of fact. + +Jim chose the occasion when he was walking to the post with Anthony and +Kitty whirled by them in a cloud of dust. He stopped to choke, and +turned to look after her. + +“There,” he remarked, with unmistakable emphasis, “goes a piece of +pretty hot stuff.” + +He couldn’t have put it more plainly. Anthony’s face set hard; he made +no answer. + +His mind set hard, too. He wasn’t going to accept any one else’s +estimate of Kitty. He had got into the habit of living against current +opinion when he was a prisoner, and he knew its value. You just said to +your mind, “It is a lie,” and forced your will to accept it. + +You said it in the face of newspapers, guards, commandants, and the +swift inroads of rumor, and it enabled you to live equably and +indifferently among the broken pieces of your fears. + +Anthony was in love for the first time in his life, and every one wished +him to believe that the object of his love was worthless. Daphne and +Jim, with their serene and prosperous happiness, wished him to believe +it; a peculiarly stupid and suburban neighborhood offered him their cold +shoulders as a proof; and Kitty herself made intermittent efforts to +convince him of the same fact. + +Anthony was convinced of nothing beyond the sense of Kitty’s presence. +She was everywhere, whether she was worthless or not. When he wasn’t +with her, he saw her, and heard through whatever else he was listening +to, the sound of Kitty’s voice. + +He had no terms for what he felt for Kitty. She was part of the spring. +The little dawn wind spoke of her; when he looked out of his window into +the apple-blossoms, it was to see her face. He heard her hurrying voice +in the thrushes’ songs; a group of silver birches at the garden’s edge +were counterparts of Kitty. + +Kitty wasn’t very tall, and though she was slender, her figure had not +the dignity of a silver birch. Her small, provocative face was +artificially whitened and not the least like the apple-blossom; her +voice was never for long as innocent of innuendo as a thrush’s; and for +all these divergencies from his dreams Anthony had for Kitty a fiercer +tenderness. She was no longer a single “experience,” however +interesting. She had become for Anthony the medium of the spirit of +life. + +Anthony had never been in love before, and he was unaware that love +concentrates the forces of the soul into one channel, and then, +transcending concentration, breaks its expression over all the world. He +only knew that there were a dozen different Kittys and that he loved +them all. + +He loved the wicked Kitty, who played on him as if he were an +instrument; the gay, nonchalant, flirtatious Kitty, who never let him +feel unaware of a secret relationship between them, which might mean +anything forever, and the next moment be as finished as a blown candle. +He loved the child Kitty, who asked him what the Elizabethans were, with +a secret hope that they might turn out to be negro minstrels. She loved +people with banjos. + +Perhaps Anthony cared for this ignorant child Kitty most of all; he felt +he could hardly bear to have her out of his sight. And he loved his +dear, confiding comrade Kitty, who told him what he ought to do when he +couldn’t sleep, and poured out to him the nuisance money was when you +hadn’t got enough. Father always supposed they had more till they found, +of course, it was ever so much less. Anthony gathered that father was a +great dear, if only people weren’t such sharks. The world, according to +Kitty, was divided into sharks and prudes: the sharks (horrid +tradespeople who would send in bills when you hadn’t paid them for years +and couldn’t be expected to) used up your money, and the prudes +prevented you from enjoying what was left. + +And there was the cruel Kitty. Anthony put her last in his mind because +it hurt him to think of Kitty as cruel. This Kitty was an Ishmaelitish +woman whose hand was against every woman, and every woman’s hand against +her. Kitty could be very cruel to other women. She left no man alone who +belonged to them, she wounded the pride of happy women new to love, and +she struck at their trust in their lovers. + +She did it deliberately, with hard eyes and malicious laughter. She knew +that she could set men alight, and she used her power indiscriminately. +She made herself cheap in order to attract attention; but making herself +cheap paid. Kitty always secured short successes. Sometimes they were +short because Kitty didn’t want to go on with them, but often because, +after their first response to her, the men collected themselves and made +a successful resistance. But whether they succeeded in resisting her or +she succeeded in attracting them, Kitty always laughed. She laughed at +the men for being such fools as to yield to her; she laughed at the +other women for minding, because, as she pointed out to Anthony, she +really wouldn’t have done it if the other women hadn’t minded; and she +laughed at herself for not always being able to pull it off. + +It was as if she did not care for her own discredit, and this was what +hurt Anthony sharpest. One cannot protect people who do not mind +discrediting themselves. + +“She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Anthony argued defensively to +himself. “She’s only twenty-three. Girls are blind to passion; they’re +brought up blind and explosive. It’s a wicked combination, and they’re +the first victims of the explosion when it takes place, though they are +not the only victims, of course! We’re wretchedly uncivilized, and our +worst sign of it is our fear of revealing nature to the young. They’ve +got to handle it, and not to warn them is like putting a gun into a +child’s hands and not telling him what happens when you pull the +trigger.” + +Anthony assured himself that Kitty did not know what happened when one +pulled the trigger. He let life slip between him and his wits, he forgot +Pannell, and he even put aside the preoccupation of his profession. He +had some excuse for this, for a surgeon must have steady hands, and his +hands were not quite steady yet. + +Rochett was doing what it could for Anthony, and spring had set itself +into his heart, but his raw nerves were not wholly covered yet. He could +not count on his serenity. + +Every morning he woke at dawn to listen to the country sounds. The earth +stirred at three o’clock in a faint, gray light—a light which was like +the mere absence of darkness. All the birds moved in their nests at its +approach, and shook out a sleepy protest before they sank into their +last short sleep. A wind sprang up suddenly and passed across the fields +with a faint shuddering of shaken leaves; sometimes a brief shower fell, +a hurrying small shower, leaving behind it the sweetness of the visited +earth. + +Anthony would lean out of his open window, watching the light come +across the sloping fields. The big row of elms at the foot of the +apple-orchard moved first; they drove their heavy, grave heads out of +the dark, and between them the gray, clear fields tentatively took +color. + +The apple-orchard beyond the kitchen-garden became for a brief moment an +unearthly splendor; the white and pink of its blossoms shone like an +alabaster screen. The light deepened and kindled under a colorless sky; +pink clouds floated up into it with golden edges; the sunshine came +softly without fire. There was no direct moment of transformation before +Anthony found the flowers in the garden had their natural colors, the +fields their dew-washed green, and all the quiet land its daily covering +of tranquil light. + +Anthony drank in the sounds of life, the little regular country sounds, +with a quickened sense of reassurance and returning energy. The mildness +of England sank into his being, not all at once, and not with the +blinding ecstasy he had expected, but at last it came. He felt he was at +home and free. He slept quietly at night, and when he woke he knew +before he remembered that nothing terrible was going to happen. He found +himself not able to say which was stronger in him, love of Kitty or love +of England. Both consumed and restored him, and at first Kitty helped +England to quiet Anthony. + +It pleased her to see him happy, to make his restless, haunted eyes turn +to laughter, to watch his strained senses relax under her confident +gentleness. + +He didn’t make love to her. This was odd, of course, but Kitty rather +liked it. His eyes showed her that he felt for her the hungry, obedient +worship of a good dog. He looked at her with all the gentleness of a +first passion before it turns to fire. + +Anthony was not a weak person, but when he looked at Kitty his eyes were +often as appealing as a child’s. + +He tremendously wanted her to be kind to him; and sometimes Kitty was +cold and hard and shut him out of her eyes. She wanted him to entertain +her, and took the life out of him by showing him that he didn’t. Or she +tried to hurt him by saying reckless things. Kitty didn’t have to try +very hard in this direction; she knew she could always hurt Anthony by +depreciating herself. + +It was the way she punished him for his occasional attempts to hold her +in. Anthony always wanted to take care of Kitty. In order to take care +of her, it was necessary to see as much of her as possible. The really +awkward part of this task was the little that is possible in censorious +small places like Rochett, when sooner or later people have to be in for +meals, and neighbors do not acknowledge the lengthening out of spring +evenings as a definite alteration to the clock. + +Of course Anthony met Kitty every day, but this wasn’t nearly enough for +him. There was all the part of the day when he wasn’t with her, when she +might get her feet wet, or break without the immunity of his protection +into some danger zone of mischief. + +Kitty couldn’t be expected to know the perils of life when Anthony +wasn’t there. She hadn’t known them before he came, and she only laughed +when he tried to point them out to her and to lay down laws and +arrangements for the rest of her time. She either laughed or she grew a +little restive; and when she grew restive, Anthony, who knew that +nothing in the world could hold her, least of all his heart, quickly +withdrew his claims. + +He told her that of course he wouldn’t bother her; she must do exactly +as she liked, only for his sake to be a little careful. And Kitty +laughed still more. It was so absurd of Anthony to suppose for a single +moment that she wouldn’t do exactly what she liked whether he told her +to or not. But it was nice of him to want her to be careful; it was not +what men usually wanted of Kitty. + + + CHAPTER IX + +Kitty had never had many advantages, but there had been a time when to +be Kitty was in itself an advantage. Her mother died at her birth, and +her father, though she was the only human being he really loved, was +very little with her; he preferred his caprices to his affections. But +Kitty did not miss either of her natural protectors very deeply. She had +Peckham, and though Peckham was only an old nurse, she was a selfless +fount of love; from a bump to a dead bird she was all attention, +consolation, and reward. + +Nothing that Kitty cared for escaped Peckham, and she stood solid and +aggressive between Kitty and her occasional fears. Peckham was unable +always to provide Kitty with what she wanted—the brass eagle off the +lectern and the housekeeper’s blue beads were a case in point—but she +strained every nerve to procure substitutes. In all her happy childhood +Kitty never knew what it was to be deliberately thwarted. + +And then there was Dick. One said one’s prayers to God, but everything +else one said to Dick. Dick was the eldest son of the retired rector, an +enchanting personage who did not preach sermons and who always went +about with sweets in his pocket. He was the only pillar of the church +who ever attracted Kitty. + +Dick’s people lived across the river, at the foot of the garden. There +was an island in the river, and Dick made a bridge from his garden to +the island, and from the island to Kitty’s garden. Long before the +bridge was built, when they were only babies, they were taken solemnly +by the road to tea, to play with each other. + +Whenever Kitty fell down, Dick, who was a year older, picked her up; and +whatever Dick was given, he gave half of it to Kitty. Even his catapult +he lent her. It was one of those strange affections which transcend +relationship and never alter except to deepen as the years pass. + +They took their first plunge into life together, hand in hand, and it +never occurred to either of them to have a separate thought. They played +together every day until Dick went to school, and they broke their +hearts over the agonizing separations, between the golden flashes of the +holidays. The gloom was slightly lifted for Kitty by Dick’s rabbits +(they were carefully transferred to her across the bridge, hutch by +hutch) and to Dick by her scrawled bulletins as to their increasing and +pervasive families. + +When he came back they still played together. Other boys had entered +into Dick’s life to war with feminine influences, but they did not touch +his feelings for Kitty. + +Kitty had none of the distinctive markings of a girl; she might just as +well have been another boy. Dick’s favorite pursuits were hers. There +was no tree she feared to climb, she ran like a deer, and her high jumps +cleared her own height. She was more unexpected than boys usually are, +but she was just as truthful, just as loyal, just as plucky. + +She did not stop being a comrade until Dick was eighteen, and then she +became everything else. The comrade was still there, but submerged in +something so tremendous and inspiring, so exciting and yet so intensely +secure, that Dick found no words to explain even to Kitty what he felt +for her. + +But Kitty didn’t need Dick’s words. What happened first to Dick happened +as a matter of course afterward to Kitty. When Peckham, unable to bear +the responsibility of the situation, reported upon it to Mr. Costrelle, +he listened to her with amused attention. Then he said: + +“Have they been allowed to see as much as they liked of each other till +now, no opposition at all, eh?” + +Peckham in a flutter answered that they had. + +“You see, sir,” she explained, “Miss Kitty being such a tomboy, and +Master Dick’s mother an invalid and never out of the house, I was hard +put to it to think of a reason why they shouldn’t be together.” + +“Well, continue not to think of a reason,” replied Mr. Costrelle, +calmly. “Allow them to be together as much as ever they choose. They’ll +soon get over it. When young people are permitted to do exactly as they +like, they seldom continue to like it for any length of time.” + +Not long after this conversation Mr. Costrelle decided to take Kitty +abroad. He was in the habit of frequent and prolonged visits to Paris +and Monte Carlo. Kitty, accompanied by intermittent governesses, +wouldn’t be a bother, and Mr. Costrelle wanted her to be taught to speak +French and how to put her clothes on properly. He did not think these +two subjects easily mastered in his own country. + +“The only thing a girl need bother her head about,” Mr. Costrelle +explained to Kitty, “is how to amuse a man and how to get a bit of her +own back. Lots of old women will cram you up with nonsense; they’ll say +a woman needs education, freedom, equal rights, and what not. Don’t you +believe ’em. Men are what matter to women, and women are what matter to +men. + +“A clever girl hasn’t got equal rights; she’s got ’em _all_, and a girl +isn’t clever if she’s read half the London Library and can’t make a man +who looked at her once want to look at her again. Make ’em want and keep +’em wanting. You can’t begin too early, but don’t lose your head over +it. That’s where women make such awful fools of themselves. They start +caring about some fellow and running him down as if they were a Paris +cabby after a foot-passenger. No man’ll stand it. Don’t you ever budge, +however much you care for a fellow. Get him keen and then hold him. Good +artificial fly, invisible line, firm hand at the end of it, feet well +against the bank, and you’ll have your fish landed. D’you see my point?” + +Kitty saw her parent’s point; she listened gravely out of the depths of +her seventeen-year-old wisdom and innocence. She was never quite so old +again. + +“You won’t mind, will you,” she said consideringly, “if I marry Dick +instead, and don’t play any particular kind of game? You see, I’d rather +marry Dick.” + +“Marry whom you like,” said her father, promptly, “provided he can +support you. I can’t, as you know, and what your mother wanted to leave +you three hundred a year for God only knows. You can’t even dress on it. +She always was penny wise and pound foolish. But take my advice. If you +want to keep your husband, learn to play your game. Any fool can get a +husband; look at the sights who do. ’Pon my word, I saw a woman the +other day with a cast in her eye and a harelip, with a wedding-ring on. +Of course you’d think there was money back of it, but there wasn’t. +Sheer will power. She’d been after him like a boa constrictor gets a +rabbit. But that’s not enough to keep a man faithful for a fortnight. +You must learn the ropes.” + +“But Dick,” Kitty said reflectively—“couldn’t I keep Dick without +playing a game? You see, there never have been any particular ropes with +Dick.” + +“I never met a man yet,” said Mr. Costrelle, emphatically, “who didn’t +like a woman better because other men were after her. Besides, you’ve +got yourself to think of. Life’s chancy. You want to have something to +fall back on. + +“I dare say a lot of people—all your mother’s relations and that stuffy +set at Rochett—would say I ought to have had you educated to some +profession. Well, what I’m teaching you will pay you better than _any_ +profession. You never need be at a loss. If you’re happy with Dick, or +whoever you pick out to be happy with, you can _stay_ happy; and if +you’re not, by Jove! you can make ’em pay for it.” + +“But I’m going to be happy, of course,” said Kitty, calmly. “I settled +all that long ago, and I sha’n’t want anybody to pay for it.” + +“Well, make damned sure you can _make_ them pay for it if you ever do +want it,” urged Mr. Costrelle. “No use thinking you’ll have a shy at it +later on, when your looks are going. You might as well race a horse +that’s never learned to start. You take my word for it, girls and horses +need training while they’re young.” + +“All right,” said Kitty, thoughtfully; “I’ll train.” + +It amused Mr. Costrelle extremely to watch Kitty training, and it didn’t +do Kitty any particular harm then. + +Her heart was safe, and she learned point by point, sometimes from a +lightly dropped reflection of her father’s, and more often from the +varied experiences that presented themselves, the mastery of her +subject. + +Mr. Costrelle knew men of all sorts and of all ages, and they all became +sooner or later the declared admirers of Kitty. Peckham, perturbed and +powerless, watched the strange procession. She could not interfere with +Kitty’s freedom, but she never left her alone. She sat and knitted on +benches at Monte Carlo, she reluctantly attended the most risqué of +French plays, she was seasick on board yachts, and giddy in +racing-motors; but Peckham was always there. Perhaps, owing to this +adamant protection, Kitty flirted serenely on without disaster. She +learned the ways of men, and little by little she learned the powers of +women. Dick didn’t like it, but he fell deeper in love. + +They argued and quarreled about Kitty’s adventures, but neither of them +ever doubted the other. Their future was plain before them, and in the +depths of their hearts they knew that there were no other men or any +other women. + +When Kitty was eighteen Mr. Costrelle insisted on her spending six weeks +in London with an aunt. Kitty didn’t want to go. She didn’t like her +aunt, with whom she had occasionally lunched in an awe-inspiring, dark +London dining-room where she had been stared at reflectively and without +kindness by three girl cousins. + +The Mallards were a dull family; still, they had a large house and a +wide acquaintance. They were modern enough to know what to go and see, +though none of it adhered to them. No member of the family had ever said +anything worth remembering or had done anything it was necessary to +forget. London spoke of them as “the dull Mallards,” but it did speak of +them. + +Mr. Costrelle, who hardly ever urged any course of action upon Kitty, +virtually insisted upon the Mallards. + +“Yes, of course you’ll be bored,” he agreed; “but, my dear child, at +your age what else can you expect? Young people must learn to be bored, +and the sooner the better. I’ve been bored for fifty years, but I’ve +learned how. I quite admit that your aunt’s a dowd and your cousins +three young and very undistinguished frumps, but that’s precisely why +they’re so valuable. If you have one good frump at your side, you have a +margin; with three or four, any future is virtually open to you. + +“You know all the men you need to know now, and none of the women you’ve +met with me can be of the slightest use to you. It’s high time you +should square a few frumps. Otherwise the men’ll do you harm. You’ll be +considered fast.” + +“But aren’t I fast?” Kitty inquired. “I thought knowing a lot of men was +always fast.” + +“So it is,” said her father, with a chuckle, “damned fast and damned +convenient, but you’ll have to slow up over it. Sprinkle a few of these +Mallard women across your track, and then you can do what you like. +See?” + +Kitty didn’t see, but she did what she liked. + +It was, after all, quite an amusing time. Many of the men she knew +turned up, and invitations were showered upon her, backed by flowers and +chocolates. Her cousins didn’t like her even though she religiously +shared all the chocolates and flowers with them, and her aunt stared +rather hard at some of Kitty’s callers. + +Kitty’s French clothes were a great success, but her French manners had +to be toned down. Dick hated them, and the other men were sometimes a +little tiresome. Kitty had long ago learned to deal with men who were +tiresome. She did it with laughter and good humor and a little touch of +decision, and she very seldom needed any other weapon. + +A good many of the men she had met in Monte Carlo and met again in +London were tiresome; and in the middle of the six weeks Dick wanted to +marry her. He said quite suddenly he _must_ marry her. The Mallards sent +Kitty back to her father with expedition and without cordiality. + +Mr. Costrelle shrugged his shoulders and said it was a pity. + +“You’ve had a very short run for your money,” he observed to Kitty, “but +do as you like. Dick’s a good fellow. I suppose you can pig it on nine +hundred a year, which, I understand, you’ll scrape up between you, and +Dick’ll have money some day. I dare say domesticity is best taken young. +You can make a fresh start later on if you want to, now you’ve got the +swing of it.” + +They were to be married in a month, and two weeks later Dick was +crossing the channel with the First Expeditionary Force. + +He hadn’t expected to be called up so soon. A telegram to Kitty +miscarried, and in the end they hadn’t time for marriage, only for a +strange half-hour, in which they said nothing at all except queer, +fragmentary things out of the tops of their minds; but of course they +expected the war to be over in three months. + +There was no time for anything but jokes, little clumsy jokes about +Berlin and the kaiser; and then there seemed nothing left but +interminable terror. + +A few weeks later the rector came to Alington Farm to tell Kitty that +Dick was missing. Kitty was spraying the second crop of roses against +blight. They were Gloire de Dijon roses, growing low over the porch, +full of heavy scent. + +The rector said to her: “My dear, will you come and see my wife? She’s +almost your mother now, you know.” + +He wished that Kitty had had a real mother. She faced him for a moment +speechlessly; her eyes slipped past his words to his fears. He answered +them quickly. + +“I do not know that he is dead,” he said, showing her the telegram. + +Kitty was afraid the rector was going to say something about God, but he +didn’t. He looked all about him vaguely, down to the garden’s edge, and +across the rickety bridge. + +“We don’t know what it means,” he said dully; he kept his eyes turned +away from Kitty. + +She stood quite still, holding the telegram, as if she could not make up +her mind to give it back to him. It did not seem to Kitty that Dick +belonged to either his father or his mother. They were old; they had had +him. He had been their child. They were lucky people whose relationship +was complete; no one could stop Dick having been their son. They could +afford to know that he was dead. + +“No,” she said at last, “I won’t go and see his mother.” + +She turned and went into the house. The rector did nothing to retain +her, and he never told any one what Kitty had said. + +Kitty went to her room and locked the door. She lay on the bed, face +downward, till the dark came. + +Her body felt dry and as if it were broken. She shed no tears. Peckham +came to her door crying, but Kitty told her to go away. + +“Please,” she said quietly, “go right away, Peckham.” + +The next day her father came down from London. Kitty unlocked the door +for him. She knew he wouldn’t say anything to bother her. He brought her +a cup of tea, and when she had drunk it, he said to her: + +“’Member my telling you life was chancy? Well! it is, you see, damned +chancy. If I were you, I should just sit tight and make the best of it.” + +“So I would if I were sure he was dead,” explained Kitty. “You see, if +he’s there,—anywhere at all, I mean,—I want to be what he wants—that +kind of woman; and if he isn’t, well, then, I don’t care what I am.” + +“Well, give the thing time,” urged her father. “Wait a bit; you’re very +young. You can only be innocent once, you know; you can always be the +other thing.” + +“Oh, I’m not thinking of all that,” said Kitty, impatiently. “Men don’t +matter. I’m wondering what to be—myself, you see, if things don’t come +right.” + +“No, of course you’re not now,” agreed her father. “But you will, you +know, my dear. Dreams are what we all start out with, and it’s pretty +tough when they get broken. But it’s facts we end up on, and when we +want the facts, we want them worse than we wanted the dreams.” + +“You talk as if Dick hadn’t been a fact,” said Kitty, bitterly; and then +she began to cry, because she herself had spoken as if Dick were no +longer a fact. + +Mr. Costrelle helped her to go to France. He couldn’t go himself because +three relentless doctors refused to pass him for active service. + +“If I were you,” he said to Kitty as he saw her off, “I should wait two +years. The war won’t end any sooner. People say it will, but it won’t. +You’ll have a hell of a time, but you can afford it at eighteen. So +shall I, of course, and at my age it’s more serious. I shall simply be +bored stiff with people all around me doing things for their country, +the kind of people, I mean, who will take this war as if it were a new +sort of lap-dog. + +“I sha’n’t turn a hair myself. If my country doesn’t want me to fight, +it can leave me alone. I’m not going to turn myself into a Red Cross +pin-cushion to please anybody. + +“When you want to come back, you’ll find me just as you left me—except +for what they get out of me in the way of taxes.” + +“I wonder what you’ll find me,” said Kitty. + + + CHAPTER X + +Peckham had none of the rights of love; she had only its services and +its long suspenses. It was very gratifying, in the face of the entire +dissolving household, to be put in charge of Alington Farm, to have an +assured income, a kitchen maid, and a silk umbrella with her initials on +the handle, presented to her by Miss Kitty as a parting present. But +Peckham saw through these gratifications to the fact of her lamb’s +unprotected disappearance. No umbrella could soften the fact of Miss +Kitty’s going into the country in Europe of which Peckham least +approved. + +Peckham disliked all countries that were not her own, but she had a +special horror of France. She thought it an indecent place, abandoned to +a parcel of fly-by-nights and the sinister ministrations of the Roman +Catholic Church. Peckham did not know which she disapproved of most +thoroughly, the grands boulevards or the pope. Now there were the +Germans, and by what she read in the newspapers, they were as bad or +worse. + +The French couldn’t get them out of the country, and we had to help +them, that is to say, Miss Kitty had to help them. The European War +became for Peckham an act of reckless charity on the part of Kitty. + +And after two years the war stopped. It went on in the newspapers and as +far as the soldiers were concerned, and strange things took place or +ceased to take place in the larder; but Miss Kitty returned. + +Alington Hall had been sold. There was only Alington Farm left. It was +the last piece of the old Alington estate. Mr. Costrelle had settled it +upon Kitty as a twenty-first birthday present. It was older than the +hall itself, and stood in an overgrown garden, with an ancient +four-square tower rising out of it, flanked by an old stone chapel that +had for years been the undisputed abode of a family of Berkshire pigs. +Mr. Costrelle hardly ever came near it. He stayed in London, and +sometimes in the summer he came down for a night or two, looked moodily +over the little place, tipped Peckham, and told her that Miss Kitty was +well, there was no occasion for her to starve herself, and the war would +probably go on forever. + +“Should you say Miss Kitty was really better, sir—happier, as you might +say?” Peckham would venture as the last moments of Mr. Costrelle’s +occasional visit drew to a close, and Mr. Costrelle always shook hands +with her at the gate, most handsomely (the postman had remarked upon it +with awe; for Mr. Costrelle was not one to demean himself with +inferiors), and replied in the same words: + +“There isn’t any news of Master Dick, you know, nurse. I should say Miss +Kitty was about the same.” + +And at the end of the two years Miss Kitty came back, but she wasn’t at +all the same. + +She was taller and thinner and a very great deal older. But her age was +not a visible portent. She looked as pretty as a peach and as young as a +June day. It was in her mind and in the presentment of her personality +that Kitty had grown old. She had been like a flower in her youth, and +now she was like a piece of very bright, well-polished enamel. + +Kitty was very kind to Peckham, but there was something as hard as steel +under her kindness. She was very gay, but there was something +unapproachably bitter under her gaiety. She was a woman of the world, +and she very soon became the talk of Rochett. + +England was denuded of men, but Alington Farm was never long without +one. Generals, colonels, lieutenants, engineers, commanders of +men-of-war, each appeared and reappeared on leave, or stationed within +motoring distance, and Kitty entertained them all. There were only a +French cook, Peckham, and the kitchen maid, but there always seemed +money enough for what Kitty wanted. Her room was always full of new +French clothes and of strange French perfumes. There was a litter of +men’s photographs in presentation silver frames that Kitty rarely looked +at, and of endless letters that she barely read, and there was a good +deal of valuable jewelry that she frequently wore. It was perhaps not +surprising that Rochett should talk and that Peckham should suffer. + +Peckham knew that Kitty had three hundred a year; so did Rochett. +Rochett drew its own conclusions, and Peckham refused to draw hers. + +Mr. Costrelle came down a good deal oftener. He got on remarkably well +with whichever of Kitty’s friends happened to be there—they stayed at +the inn and spent their entire days at Alington—and Mr. Costrelle +seemed not in the least concerned by the regularity of their appearances +or the lateness of their departures. + +“Well, you’ve got Miss Kitty back,” he said on the first of these +occasions to Peckham. + +Peckham met his eyes in a way that was unusual with her. + +“Yes, in a sense I have, sir,” she assented. + +“Just the same as ever?” Mr. Costrelle remarked, smiling a little at the +fixity of Peckham’s regard. + +“I don’t find Miss Kitty the same, sir,” Peckham ventured breathlessly. + +“Ah, well,” Mr. Costrelle said, turning away to end the conversation, +“you must put up with what you have, Peckham. It’s a changing universe, +and wise people change with it. I don’t say they improve—that’s a +matter of opinion—but they change.” + +Peckham did not expostulate directly with Kitty. She did not dare. The +vicar’s wife expostulated, and she left the drawing-room with flaming +cheeks and an air of having got the worst of it. + +“Don’t let that woman in again if she calls,” Kitty remarked afterward +to Peckham. “She’s been impertinent. I don’t like impertinent women.” +But the vicar’s wife didn’t call again. + +Gradually every one in the neighborhood—the women, that is to +say—ceased to call, every one except Daphne Wynne. Daphne came often, +and Peckham learned to love the sound of laughter which ensued—the old +easy laughter that reminded her of the times before Miss Kitty went away +and when she did not have that little cold ring in her voice, which made +her laughter now have a formidable and dangerous sound. + +Kitty never laughed like that with Daphne Wynne; and now even Daphne +Wynne had stopped coming. + +Peckham went slowly up-stairs to brush Miss Kitty’s hair. She was a +splendid brusher, and it was the hour of the day she liked most. When +Miss Kitty sat still in front of her long Italian mirror, with her +thick, black hair sweeping to her knees, she looked like a little child +again, and sometimes, when she was in the mood for it, she talked like a +little child to Peckham. But this afternoon Peckham was afraid. She knew +she must say something at last, she must risk the rebuff which would +cost her more than it cost the vicar’s wife. She could not go on any +longer saying nothing to Miss Kitty, when all the rest of the world had +turned against her and was saying everything it could. + +While Mrs. Wynne continued to call, Peckham had said to herself that +Rochett was old-fashioned and stupid and didn’t know what went on in +good society among young people without any harm in it. But Mrs. Wynne +knew. Mrs. Wynne, with her kind, laughing eyes, would never stop seeing +her friends for any but reasons which Peckham would have to consider +grave. + +Captain Arden was a grave reason. Miss Kitty wasn’t being fair with +Captain Arden. If she liked him, why didn’t she marry him? And if she +didn’t marry him, why didn’t she let him alone? + +“Is that you, Peckham?” Kitty called out a little impatiently. “I’m +going out this afternoon, so you must be quick. I sha’n’t be in till +late.” + +“Yes, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham. She took out the large ivory brush and +began with her steady hand a rhythmic movement of the brush over Kitty’s +thick, glossy hair. + +Kitty’s hair shone as a well-bred horse’s coat shines under the hand of +the most careful of grooms; she smiled at Peckham in the glass. + +“You’re grave to-day, Peckham,” she said. “You look rather like Lot’s +wife going to seed when she looked back on Sodom. I suppose I’m Sodom, +aren’t I? What have I been doing now? Anything worth your turning into +salt for? Do you think I’m a very wicked woman, Nannie?” + +“Well, Miss, I’m sure I never think of you as a woman at all,” said +Peckham, evasively, “having brought you up, as it were, from a baby. Nor +would any one, the length you wear your skirts, and all that stocking +showing! I do wish you’d let me let down a tuck or two. The way people +can’t take their eyes off your legs is more than I can bear, Miss +Kitty.” + +“But I like to have everybody’s eyes on my legs,” said Kitty, calmly. +“If you had as pretty ones as I have, Nannie, you’d wear your skirts up +to your knees, and thank God for them.” + +“You let your tongue run away with you, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, +severely. “Respectable people in my class of life don’t think anything +about their legs, and if I’d been given pink silk stockings by a young +man when I was a girl, and he not even a blood relation, I should have +died of shame.” + +Kitty laughed. + +“I made Captain Arden buy me those silk stockings, Nannie,” she +explained. “He’s very like you. He wanted to die of shame, but people +don’t die of shame as easily as you think. Papa says shame was invented +to keep modest people from boring amusing ones; only it hasn’t +succeeded.” + +“Don’t you go quoting your papa to me, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, +stiffly. “You know I never could bear to hear the things he said, before +an innocent child, too. I wonder Captain Arden’s sister don’t come in +with him sometimes like she used to. There isn’t a nicer lady anywhere +than Mrs. Wynne. Have you done anything to vex her, Miss?” + +The small, white face between its two dark showers of falling hair +winced suddenly; a sullen expression came into Kitty’s eyes. + +“I shall do as I like,” she said shortly, “and behave as I please. It’s +nothing to you, Nannie, if I choose to quarrel with Mrs. Wynne.” + +Peckham went on brushing just as smoothly, just as steadily, but her +heart was out of it; it was everything in the world to her what Kitty +did, and Kitty knew it. + +Kitty blinked her eyelids rapidly together and repented. + +“Sorry, Nannie,” she said. “It was horrid of me to say that. Of course +you care, and I do, too, really. I am very fond of Daphne Wynne. I +expect she thinks I’m not playing the game with Captain Arden, you know, +and that’s put her back up.” + +“If you was to marry Captain Arden, now,” said Peckham, persuasively, +“she wouldn’t go for to object to that, would she, Miss Kitty?” + +Kitty laughed again, with that note of bitterness in it, as hard as a +stone under clear water. + +“She’d have every right to, Nannie,” she said; “but I’m not, as a matter +of fact, thinking of marrying Captain Arden. I don’t happen to be a +marrying woman. I prefer a—single life.” + +“If you’ll excuse my saying so, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, severely, +“that’s a mistake on your part. A man behind you is a man behind you, as +it were. Ladies can be a great deal freer, with a gentleman to look +after them, than they can living alone; and Captain Arden’s such a nice +gentleman, too.” + +“I don’t want to be looked after,” said Kitty, impatiently, “and why +should I marry Captain Arden any more than any of my other friends? I’ve +far grander matches under my hand if I wanted them, Nannie.” + +“Yes, I know, my dear,” said Peckham, gently; “but you don’t treat them +as you treat Captain Arden. You have a way with him that seems more +comfortable like, more as if you were at home with him; and that’s what +I like to see in any one coming to the house so often.” + +“Have I?” said Kitty, consideringly. “Have I a different way with him? I +must stop it if I have, you know, Nannie. That’s what I should call +being unfair. I suppose it’s because he’s had such a bad time; still, +that’s hardly a reason for giving him a worse.” + +“If you feel like that about him Miss Kitty,” Peckham urged, “why not do +a little more for him? He’s longing for a home and to settle down with +you and all. I can see it in his eyes. Couldn’t you look at it like +something you could do for him, and he having had such a bad time, as +you say?” + +“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Kitty, coldly. +“Besides, he’s come out of his bad time. It’s over for him; he’s come +out all right. I’m not terribly sorry for him.” + +She closed her eyes for a moment on the vision of those who had not come +out all right. Peckham went on brushing her hair quietly and holding her +breath for fear of checking what Miss Kitty might say next, but all +Kitty said, after a minute’s pause, was: + +“Where’s my scarlet tam-o’-shanter? I think it’s going to rain. And my +Burberry. I’ll put on my chiffon dress to-night; the one you say heathen +savages wouldn’t be seen in. As a matter of fact, Peckham, heathen +savages wouldn’t dream of wearing anything like so much. A feather +behind one ear and a necklace is quite sufficient for a heathen savage, +and if you go on looking as solemn as the last trump at a race meeting, +that’s the way I’ll come down to dinner to-night.” + +Peckham whitened visibly under this dire threat. + +“Some day, Miss Kitty,” she observed, “there’ll be a judgment upon you, +there will surely.” + +“Well, I don’t mind if there is,” said Kitty, defiantly, snatching up +the scarlet cap and cramming it low over her eyes. “I’ve got a grievance +against the judge, if it comes to that, worth any two of his against me. +But don’t you worry, Nannie! It’s Captain Arden I’m going out with this +afternoon; that ought to please you. He’s as quiet as a suet pudding, +and as safe as a cathedral.” + +“It don’t matter how particular gentlemen are if you aren’t, Miss +Kitty,” said Peckham, quietly. “What they begin as has nothing to do +with it. A hair turns them.” + +“Well, I’m just going to try,” said Kitty, with a mischievous gleam in +her eyes as she left the room, “if a hair _will_ turn Captain Arden.” + + + CHAPTER XI + +Anthony had no inner egoism; he did not make pictures in his mind of +himself, nor did he try to make them to his advantage in the minds of +other people. He was without that key to character that the desire to +please others involves. Nobody had ever called him sympathetic or +confided to him picturesque and inaccurate accounts of their lives. His +desire to serve was evident; but it was roused only by those who were +courageous sufferers, at the mercy of a stronger force. He took no +interest in the aggrieved, and he always asked why a dog was lame before +attempting to help it over a stile. + +But he had made no such researches into the causes of Kitty’s ostracism. +He swept into the back of his mind all adverse facts against her. Kitty +was not to blame; everybody else was to blame: her father, for her +upbringing, which was admittedly careless; the neighborhood, for its +blind-eyed strictness; and, above all, other women. The women of Rochett +became Anthony’s inveterate enemies. They were unappeasably at war with +Kitty; but it was difficult for Anthony to fight them, because they did +things which Anthony could not fight. + +When they passed Mrs. Bucket, the clergyman’s wife, in the car, she +deliberately turned her back and gazed through the hedge. + +One cannot get out of a motor-car and fight with a lady for looking at a +hedge; and yet Mrs. Bucket’s action was obviously hostile. There was +nothing in the hedge, or through it, to look at except the silhouette of +a preoccupied pig, and there was no dust in the road; there was only +Kitty. + +“A woman of that type,” Anthony exclaimed angrily, “disgusts me. Their +religion is supposed to be love, and their practice is hate. They +wouldn’t have been seen in the New Testament except behind the portliest +of the Pharisees. None of them envisages a generous action, and they +haven’t enough courage to face one of their own ugly thoughts. If she +has anything against you, why doesn’t she stand up and say so? She +belongs to a race of jackals that eat other people’s kill.” + +“Rubbish!” said Kitty, lightly. “Poor old thing, she isn’t a bit like a +jackal. She doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her; why should she bow to +me?” + +“_You_ wouldn’t have cut her,” said Anthony, a little crestfallen at +this reception of his championship. “I saw you meant to bow to her.” + +“It’s not in my interest to cut respectable women,” replied Kitty, +coolly. “I don’t often get the chance; they turn their backs before I +have time to do more than cock my tam-o’-shanter at them.” + +“Even Daphne’s unfair to you,” went on Anthony, bitterly. “At least, I +suppose she is. If she wasn’t unfair, you’d surely come to Merry +Gardens.” + +“Have you asked her why I don’t come?” replied Kitty, evasively, putting +on speed with a jerk. + +“Oh, she only says, ‘She can come if she likes, Tony; I sha’n’t stop +her.’ But if she asked you, you’d come, wouldn’t you, Kitty? Not asking +you is stopping you.” + +“She won’t ask me,” said Kitty, dryly. “I should leave it alone if I +were you, Anthony. I don’t believe Ishmael was a man. I believe he was a +lady of certain attractions, living in a suspicious country neighborhood +where nobody knew how to put on their clothes. But Daphne’s all right. I +told you why she’s down on me before, but I didn’t tell you what she’d +tried to do for me first. + +“She came here to an awfully stiff and old-fashioned neighborhood, where +the people were all friends of Jim’s, and had wanted him to marry one of +their daughters, with her own way to make, and she tried to make mine +instead. She saw me left out at a silly, frumpish, old school treat +where they’d had to ask me to get a subscription; and from that moment +she fought my battles in season and out of season, and it was mostly out +of season with my battles. And what have I ever done for her? Nothing +except try to turn her husband’s head.” + +“Kitty!” exclaimed Anthony, aghast. “Old Jim?” + +“Oh, well,” said Kitty, indifferently, “I did; and no thanks to _his_ +superior morals that I didn’t succeed. I got fed up with his explaining +potato crops to me, so I dropped him. Jim’s a nice fellow and he hates +me like poison now. He thinks it’s virtue, but it isn’t: it’s pure funk. +But Daphne was never afraid of me. She was nice to me, not pitying or +superior or ‘you-poor-thing-ish,’ just nice. She thought I’d had no +luck.” + +“Perhaps she didn’t know about Jim,” suggested Anthony, who refused to +see his favorite sister justified at Kitty’s expense. + +“Oh, she knew,” said Kitty, calmly, “as quickly as she would have known +if her first baby had cut a new tooth. Daphne’s no fool about men. She +knew she could really hold Jim, and she wasn’t afraid of me; but she +wasn’t going to be nasty either. She isn’t really nasty now; she’s +merely holding off because I’m not playing the game. She’d be nice again +to-morrow if I’d behave properly to you.” + +“What do you call behaving properly to me?” asked Anthony, with +amusement. “I’ve not complained so far.” + +“Never seeing you again would be behaving properly to you,” said Kitty, +with a curious gravity. “I see that now, but it’s too late.” + +“You couldn’t, I fancy, even the two of you, dispose of me quite so +easily,” observed Anthony. + +Kitty made no answer to this statement. She said after a pause: + +“Women are all right. Look at Peckham. Peckham would be cut into little +bits to prevent my having a chilblain. I don’t quite know a man who +would be, not even you, Tony. Oh, actual bits, perhaps. But you wouldn’t +always want to take a back seat so as to give me a front one, would you? +That’s what old Peckham wants: she’d be willing to be jolted off on to +the road to see me safe and sound on the front seat.” + +Anthony said something about the maternal instinct. + +“You can call it what you like,” said Kitty, indifferently. “All I’m +saying is, women do more for you than men sometimes, and don’t get +anything out of it. There was a woman once who did a thing for me—an +angel from heaven would have turned its nose up at—and she made no more +fuss about it than if she had lent me a pocket-handkerchief. I +appreciate that you’re paying me a left-handed compliment by having a +shy at women; but you can take my word for it, there’s nothing in it.” + +“You dislike them yourself,” urged Anthony, hotly; “you told me so.” + +“Of course I do,” said Kitty. “Why not? I dislike them because they’re +not anxious for me to amuse myself at their expense, and that’s the only +form of amusement that happens to appeal to me. I dare say you like +burglars—I don’t blame you for it—but it’s a peculiar taste that the +police don’t share. As far as other women are concerned, I’m a burglar +and, they’re the police. It’s not much use your trying to reconcile us, +is it?” + +Anthony ignored this metaphor. He did not believe that Kitty broke laws. +She merely ignored conventionalities. + +“What happened to the woman you say helped you?” he asked, instead, a +little resentfully. “If she was really a good sort, why didn’t you keep +hold of her and have a friend to fall back on?” + +“We couldn’t meet again,” said Kitty, briefly. “That’s the hill over +there beyond the windmill, with the row of beeches on the top. We get +out there.” + +Anthony frowned at the windmill. He hated mysteries, and above all he +hated coming on a mystery in Kitty’s life. He suspected that there were +things he would dislike to know in Kitty’s career, but he disliked even +more not knowing them. + +“I haven’t the right to ask you any questions, of course,” he said +stiffly. + +“No,” agreed Kitty, “you haven’t; but don’t let that worry you. I +wouldn’t answer you even if you had. I don’t believe in rights about +questions. Live and let live, that’s my motto. We dump the car here and +climb up. Rather a nice hill, isn’t it?” + +Anthony stood looking up at the soft, green incline above them. There +were thickets of young hazel-bushes on the slopes, hollows full of +may-blossom, and the sharpened green of very young leaves. + +“‘The new-born leaves,’” Kitty quoted softly, touching them with her +bared fingers. “That’s Dante, isn’t it? The woman I told you about said +that to me once. Of course I never read myself except when it’s wet, and +I shouldn’t read Dante in a blizzard. I prefer D’Annunzio.” + +“I don’t believe you’ve read a word of D’Annunzio in your life,” said +Anthony, crossly. “You just say that to tease me, because you know I +hate decadent stuff, full of moonshine and mud. Why do you always try to +make yourself out what you know I don’t like, Kitty?” + +“Well, it does tease you, doesn’t it?” laughed Kitty. “Poor old Tony! +You’re awfully easily teased. Never mind; that’s because you like me. I +like you to like me, you know.” + +“I wish you did,” said Anthony under his breath. He held a bramble back +to let her pass. Kitty saw his arm tremble as she touched it. + +“Oh, not like that,” she said lightly; “that’s a stupid, solemn way. +Like me as if liking were a joke, not as if it were a state funeral and +I were the corpse.” + +Anthony stopped suddenly. He felt as if something had literally moved in +his heart. + +“For God’s sake! don’t talk like that!” he exclaimed harshly. “You’re +not ill, are you?” + +Kitty turned her head and opened wide eyes at him in which astonishment +mixed with a curious look of resentment. + +“Ill?” she said. “Why should I be ill? How just like a doctor! Of all +the nonsense, Anthony!” + +It wasn’t in the least like a doctor; it was the kind of statement that +any doctor would have laughed at, and of course it was nonsense, only +some stubborn instinct in Anthony remained unrelieved. He had felt one +of those moments of panic that the heart never forgets. + +Kitty’s lithe young figure stepped steadily on in front of him. She was +beyond the copse of young trees and out on the open hillside. Anthony +called to her to stop and watch the beauty of the expanding world at +their feet, the line of may-blossoms like the crest of a breaking wave, +beyond it the orchards, and a common covered with a burnished shield of +gorse, flame upon golden flame. + +But Kitty refused to do more than glance at it over her shoulder. + +“It’s the same old view I’ve seen for years,” she said impatiently. + +Anthony shut his lips. The view meant nothing to him if she would not +share it. Kitty’s impatience stripped the woods of bloom and disallowed +the beauty of the day. He wondered if he had been stupid to talk against +women; perhaps Kitty had not realized that it was because she was +different from all other women that all the other women must be in the +wrong. Anthony couldn’t explain this to Kitty; he couldn’t really +explain anything. For moment by moment he felt more aware of her and +less aware of everything else. + +He did not dream that Kitty was intentionally blinding him to everything +but herself. She did not speak again until she had reached the group of +beeches at the top of the hill. They stood silent and massive above her, +as if their big brown trunks were the columns of a cathedral aisle. + +“There’ll be thunder soon,” said Kitty under her breath. “I love +storms.” + +Anthony stood beside her as motionless as one of the tree trunks. He +thought she did not realize what he was feeling. Perhaps she was +thinking of the coming rain, while he stood tense with his struggle not +to take her in his arms. + +She turned and looked at him with eyes in which laughter brimmed over, +seized him by the shoulders, and swiftly drawing his head down to hers, +kissed him full on the lips. + +Her action took Anthony completely by surprise. He caught her so close +to him that she could not speak, and covered her face and eyes and hair +with kisses. It was as if they ceased to be human beings, and became two +wild creatures in the woods, full of magic and madness. Anthony slipped +beyond her control and beyond his own. + +All the years of his intense restraint fell from him; his whole being +seemed to alter in her arms. He did not know what was left of him or +what was Kitty. + +Kitty said his name at last, over and over, very softly and steadily. + +“Anthony! Anthony!” It seemed to him as if he were being called back out +of another world. He let her go at last, forcing his will to answer +hers. + +She leaned, with her back against a tree, breathless and white, but +laughing a little. + +[Illustration: _He did not know what was left of him or what was +Kitty._] + +“I won’t scold you, Tony,” she said. “It was all my fault. I took you by +surprise, and that was a little the way you took me. I didn’t know, you +see, you would be that kind of lover.” + +“I didn’t frighten you, did I?” he asked anxiously. “I’ll take the +greatest care of you always, Kitty; I’ll never let anything hurt or +frighten you again. I never dreamed you could, I never thought I +might—” + +“Don’t put too much weight on anything I do,” Kitty interrupted him +quickly. “The woods are full of mischief. Poor old Anthony! You do look +done. That’s because you think I am, isn’t it? Well, I’ll race you to +the bottom of the hill to show you I’m not.” + +She was off like a flash between the trunks of the trees, and Anthony +after her. It was a breathless, absurd, confusing race. + +Anthony felt as if he had got into a nightmare. He did not know the +path, and Kitty was mercilessly aware of it. She took short cuts and +avoided rough places, leaving him to stumble into pitfalls and be caught +by unexpected brambles. He broke free at last, and before they reached +the car he had caught her and seized her by the shoulders. + +“Kitty, you’re a little devil,” he said breathlessly. “Are you all +right?” + +Kitty ignored his question. + +“That’s better,” she said, with approving eyes. “I’m a little devil, and +you’re no better than you should be—now. You can come home and dine +with me—no, I won’t be kissed on the roadside; but just bear those two +facts in mind, won’t you?” + +She sprang away from him into the car. Anthony swung himself up beside +her, taking the steering-wheel out of her hands. + +“No, you don’t,” he said fiercely. “I’ve had enough of your initiative +for one afternoon. I’m going to do the driving from now on.” + +Kitty yielded lightly, with smiling eyes. She watched Anthony’s face as +he steered the car out of the narrow lane and road by the windmill. His +eyes had a queer, odd light in them—a light of intense, controlled +excitement, and his rather heavy jaws were set firmly. She would not be +able to take him by surprise so easily again. The clouds had darkened +rapidly, and just as they turned into the open road the rain began. +Thunder rolled down on them from the low hills, and all the may-trees +and the golden gorse were blotted out in storm. + +Kitty leaned back in the car and shut her eyes; a little smile still +lingered round her lips. Anthony glanced at her from time to time to see +that she was properly wrapped up and did not look as if she was too +exhausted by her race. + +He swore to himself that he would never again leave her to her own +discretion or let her do things for which she had to pay. + +He would pay for whatever she did himself, and guide those small, wilful +hands of hers, and put his heart under her feet. He could not tell if he +was happy or sad, but he was settled; he knew what he had to do. + +She was his life now; there was no other uncertainty. Nothing that +people said of her could alter his judgment. Daphne and Jim, his people +at Pannell, must accept her or be blotted out. + +There was nothing left but Kitty. Kitty, too, was silent. She sat +muffled up in her Burberry, with the rain lashing against her face. She +was quite comfortable and content, but she made no resolutions. Only, as +they flashed past the wet fields and round the familiar corners, she +remembered Peckham’s phrase, “A hair will turn him.” A hair had turned +Anthony. That was why Kitty was smiling. + + + CHAPTER XII + +The tower room was unlike anything else in the shabby old farm-house. It +was hundreds of years old, but Kitty had overrun it with modernity. + +A staircase separated it from the rest of the house, the four narrow, +deep-set windows looked out over the unkempt garden. Twilight was +falling, and the scent of brier-roses invaded the still air, and filled +the room with fragrance. It was the first time Anthony had been in the +tower. Kitty took him to the foot of the little staircase and told him +to go up and wait there while she dressed for dinner. + +“It may amuse you,” she said, “poking about among my things.” + +The rain had stopped falling. A gray mist surrounded the tower, out of +which the dark shapes of the trees leaned like thick shadows. Roses +climbed up above the window-sills, and swallows darted to and fro +beneath them. Their nests were all about the tower. + +Anthony leaned out of the window and heard the stirring of wings and the +subdued movement of the leaves that parted to receive them. He thought +that Kitty was like a swallow, swift and fugitive, a restless, reckless +daughter of the air; and his heart moved in him with delight to think +that he might make a nest to hold her, a place of security and peace for +her to rest in between her circling flights. + +The inside of the tower room was curiously unlike its setting; it was +full of odd colors and extravagant luxury. + +It contained beautiful things, but it did not express beauty; it +expressed excitement and love of physical comfort. There was a long, +very soft divan covered with cushions; the colors of the cushions +clashed against one another, orange and green and gold, with here and +there a bizarre note of black. + +Between two of the windows hung a vivid piece of Sicilian embroidery +with a design of grapes and pomegranates. By the door there was a +Chinese screen of very dim gold, on which a flight of storks crossed a +scarlet sunset, fading into gray. + +The room was too small for the treasures it held; old French porcelain, +lacquer boxes, and Italian bronzes jostled one another. Nothing seemed +to connect with anything else or with any idea behind itself. + +A low book-case ran along the wall beneath the Sicilian altar-cloth. +Anthony read the titles of the books carefully in the fading light. They +were chiefly French novels of an unmistakable type. Kitty had been a +great deal in France with her father; perhaps the books belonged to him. +They were more like the books a man would have chosen, a man who had no +moral sense, and particularly liked to have the lack of it stimulated. + +Anthony did not know much about French novels, but a glance or two at +them was enough to show him that they belonged to that light, evasive +expression of evil that is hard to define, very expensive, and extremely +disintegrating. + +Anthony left the book-case and began to walk up and down. He had a +curious, restless feeling, which he had not had for many weeks. It was +as if he could not get out when he knew he could. It was a feeling that +made him try doors and get as near as he could to windows, and it always +ended in his walking to and fro as if his life depended on performing a +series of vain movements. + +It is a trick that prisoners learn in long confinements, and perhaps of +all their habits it is the hardest to shake off. + +Anthony walked up and down the little crowded room till Kitty came. By +the time he heard her step he had almost forgotten where he was. + +The room was nearly dark, and as Kitty opened the door she turned on the +light and stood under it. + +She was dressed in yellow gauze. One of the cleverest French dressmakers +had designed the costume for her. It did not look as if it were a dress, +but as if Kitty were a flower, an extraordinary, graceful, human flower +from which the foliage had receded. + +Her neck and shoulders rose bare out of the golden chiffon; the folds of +it were fastened together with an amber ornament at her waist; the +clinging, narrow skirt was slit up at the sides to show her slender feet +and ankles; a green scarf escaped and hung behind her. A long chain of +amber and green jade hung round her neck, catching and holding all the +light in the room. + +Kitty paused for a moment, and then moved quickly, like the passage of a +sunbeam, into Anthony’s arms. + +Anthony no longer felt imprisoned. It seemed to him as if he had +conquered space, and held all that he wanted of it forever. + +But as quickly as he embraced her, Kitty gently released herself. Her +eyes ran swiftly over him, alive with laughter. + +“We must have dinner first,” she said. “How do you like my room and my +dress and me? You’ll have to tell me after dinner. Poor old Anthony!” +Her voice had a curious quality of control in it, as if Anthony had +ceased to be himself and had become merely an instrument of her will. He +was dimly aware of the fact, but he did not resent it. He only wanted to +express Kitty’s will. + +Anthony could not talk much at dinner. He ate and drank without seeing +or tasting what was set before him. He was only aware of Kitty opposite +him, Kitty laughing, Kitty recounting little tales of her life abroad, +incidents in hotels, on railway stations. Wherever Kitty had been, +incidents had followed. + +Kitty always talked easily without the consciousness of any effect but +her own amusement. She had little vivid turns of speech that stuck in +Anthony’s mind, but her talking went by favor. At times she was stonily +silent, and withdrew herself from any approach to expression. + +To-night Anthony could not respond to her; he could not take his eyes +away from her face or follow a word of what she said. + +He knew her voice was music, and by the sound of it he knew that she was +pleased. He was shut off from any other form of consciousness. + +Peckham waited upon them silently, but her every gesture was a reproach. +She put the plates down with severity, she poured out their wine as if +she wished to mingle it with gall, she carried things in and out of the +room with unveiled hostility; every movement of her starched apron was a +remonstrance. + +She wept in the pantry and she prayed in the hall; she even glanced +imploringly straight at the impassive loveliness of Kitty. + +But Peckham’s efforts and her pains counted for nothing. Anthony did not +know that she was there, and Kitty, perceiving all she felt, took her +own way. + +After dinner they went back to the tower room. Anthony drew Kitty to him +with a long sigh of relief. + +“I thought you were never coming,” he said; “I thought I should never +see you really like this again.” + +“Poor old Tony!” Kitty murmured softly. “You do care for me awfully, +don’t you?” + +“Hopelessly,” said Anthony, smiling at her, “hopelessly. I can never +show you. Kitty, you won’t keep me waiting, will you? I’ve waited all my +life for you, and I don’t feel as if I could stand much more of it.” + +Kitty’s eyes opened to receive him without barriers. She gave him a +long, full look. + +“No, of course not,” she said gently. “I shouldn’t be such a beast. +You’ve had a terrible time; I’d like to make you awfully happy, Tony.” + +“When?” he whispered. “Kitty darling, when will you marry me?” + +Kitty jerked herself suddenly out of his arms. + +“Marry you?” she said angrily. “I’m never going to marry you. What are +you talking about, Tony?” + +He stared at her in blank surprise. + +“You silly old boy!” she said more gently, “you don’t seem to be very +clever at taking things in. Sit down and be sensible; don’t stand +looking at me like that. I haven’t done you any harm.” + +Anthony sat down obediently. His eyes were still perplexed, but he put +his mind on all that he remembered Kitty had told him about Dick. That +was presumably the obstacle. Well, he would get over Dick. He was not +going to have Kitty held back from life by a ghost. + +Kitty slipped on to a footstool in front of the small wood fire. She +looked thoughtfully at the amber beads at the point of her small satin +slippers. They were where they should be; at first Peckham had put them +too far forward. + +She hoped Anthony wasn’t going to be foolish. He had a heavy line of +jaw, and it was set exactly as it had been in the motor when he said he +was going to drive; but Kitty had had no objection to his driving, so +that it had not mattered. It was quite useless his talking about +marriage. She did object to marriage. + +“Kitty,” Anthony said slowly, “I think I understand what you feel. It’s +about Dick, isn’t it?” + +Kitty looked startled, but in a moment she had recovered herself. + +“I told you,” she said a little uncertainly, “that I was never going to +marry any one else but Dick.” + +“I know,” said Anthony; “but that was before I cared for you. I think +that must have made a difference, Kitty, for, after all, you’ve let me +care.” + +Kitty said nothing. + +“You felt as if Dick were a part of your actual life, didn’t you?” +Anthony persisted. + +Kitty answered without raising her eyes. + +“Not part of it,” she said; “all of it. And not only my life: he was +part of me; he is still. That’s one reason why I can’t. But it isn’t any +use talking about it, Anthony. Why don’t you stop talking?” + +“We must talk about it first,” said Anthony. “We’ve got to get the whole +thing straight. You are quite sure he is dead?” + +Kitty flushed, but she answered without faltering. + +“Yes; I waited to be sure. John Adams, from our old lodge, was his +servant. They were posted missing at the same time; so there was always +the chance. + +“One day John turned up. He’d been maimed, so they sent him back. Dick +died in one of their hospitals with a wound through his head. He kept +calling my name till he died. He never said anything else. When John +told me, I felt as if some one were laughing at me. We’d never been +married. We might have been quite easily. That would have been something +to hold on to; but there wasn’t anything.” + +“No,” said Anthony; “sometimes there doesn’t seem anything to hold on +to.” + +Kitty looked up at him. His eyes were fixed on her with an intense +watchful tenderness; he did not look lost as he had looked at dinner. +All his faculties were alive for her; and because he was using them for +her, he was in possession of himself. For a moment it occurred to Kitty +that she might not be able to shake this possession. + +“It is no use your turning into a doctor or anything,” she said shortly. +“I can’t be doctored. I’m what you call a hopeless case.” + +“There isn’t, strictly speaking, any such case,” said Anthony, smiling, +“and you’ve got to listen to me a few minutes. + +“You’re twenty-three, you’re a woman, and you’re not only Kitty. You’re +not only Dick’s; you belong to life. Dick didn’t only belong to you. If +he had, he wouldn’t have gone straight out to die; he would have waited +till he had to go. But he didn’t; he went at once; he belonged to the +service of life. You ought to give yourself honestly to the work of the +world. You ought to be a wife and you ought to have a home and children. +If you were one of the women who didn’t take hold of men, it would be +different. You’d be a worker then—some women are—or you’d be a mother, +perhaps, just a natural mother with or without children, doing what she +can for helpless lives. But you’re not a mother woman or a worker, and +you must not go on being nothing but a wasteful, mischievous +will-o’-the-wisp. If you are, you’ll be the part of Dick that +contradicted him and refuses to serve life.” + +“He got a good deal out of serving life, didn’t he?” said Kitty, +bitterly. “And you think I’m going to be fooled, too? I’m just what you +call me—pure mischievous waste. I won’t be a wife; I don’t want any +poor, beastly, miserable little children born to get their hearts broken +like the rest of us. I’ll be what I am. You can’t say I didn’t warn you. +I may be a will-o’-the-wisp, but I play fair, Anthony. That’s more than +whoever made me did with me.” + +“Do you—do you play quite fair, Kitty?” Anthony asked gently. “Is it +fair to make a man feel for you as I do, so that he can’t see or think +or feel anything but a blind need of you—the need of having you in his +eyes, in his home, so that he can serve and worship you all the days of +his life? Is it quite fair to turn round and say, ‘Yes, I warned you’? I +don’t think you did warn me of that, Kitty. You can play a light game +with a light man; but you didn’t think I was a light man, did you?” + +Kitty was silent for a moment; she turned her eyes away from him. + +“No,” she said at last; “I didn’t. I liked you. I didn’t mean to like +you. I didn’t mean to care really at all; I never have before. If I +hadn’t, you wouldn’t perhaps. You’d just have despised me and had a good +time; that was all I ought to have let you do. And I did think you +would—” + +“Would what?” asked Anthony, perplexed. + +“Would despise me,” said Kitty under her breath. + +“Well, I don’t,” said Anthony. “I think you’re reckless and haven’t been +taken care of properly; but I propose to change all that. The only thing +that matters is that you care. If you care, that makes it all right. You +mightn’t care enough to marry me yet; then I’ll have to be patient till +you do. But I’ll make you care for me, Kitty; you’ve only got to trust +me a little.” + +“Oh, don’t, Tony! Don’t!” said Kitty, shivering. “This is getting +horrible. Why won’t you understand? It isn’t only Dick; I’m not _fit_ to +marry! I’m not fit to marry any man!” + +She moved swiftly away from him to the other side of the room. + +Anthony sat perfectly still where she had left him. He did not take in +what she had said. The words got into his mind, but they refused to +correspond with anything that was there. They stood separately like +blocks of wood; there was no cohesion in them and no form. + +She was not fit to marry any man. Kitty had made this plain statement, +but it did not seem plain to Anthony. + +She was Kitty, and he loved her, and she loved him. This confused the +other statement. + +Anthony did what he had so often practised when he felt his self-control +leaving him in prison: he retired into absolute silence. + +His mind moved against his will. He had got to think of Kitty; that was +why he kept still. When his will was rested enough, it would attack his +mind; till then he saw only pictures: pictures of Kitty in the red +tam-o’-shanter laughing at the rain which blew against her face; Kitty +in one of her moments of slow, childlike gravity; Kitty standing without +help or guidance against an unjust, enigmatic world. + +It was a long time before the pictures changed, and his mind struck upon +the facility of Kitty—the deadly facility with which she handled men. + +She was not defenseless then; it was Anthony who had been defenseless in +her hands. He had been so careful to protect her and spare her even from +his ardent thoughts, and he had never had a base or cruel thought of +her. He had only wanted to wait till she was sure of herself so that he +should not startle her by the strength of his love. Well, she was sure +of herself and she was sure of him. + +But was this Kitty, the Kitty he had meant to win? What had she to do +with this facile, scheming, easily triumphant Kitty? This Kitty was not +helpless; there was no need to shield her from anything. She had not +tried to save herself. She had gone not blindly or weakly or from the +sharp constraint of passion, but with deliberate steps, with perfect +mastery, into the world of women who are not fit to marry. + +Anthony had no longings for any such world. He had accepted long ago an +ordered universe. He hated concealments and he despised light loves. He +was not prepared to readjust his relationship with Kitty. His mind +pointed out to him relentlessly what Kitty had always meant. + +He understood the tower room, with its expensive luxuries, the violent +colors; the enervating comfort. They troubled the senses; everything +Kitty did troubled the senses. She had not wanted to go deeper than +this. She would not have gone deeper if the senses were the measure of +the soul; but something larger had broken through and shaken them both. + +Anthony put the thought of this larger thing aside. It concerned him, +perhaps; but he could not see that it concerned Kitty. + +He was not going to stand any more from Kitty; he was going to get out. + +He became suddenly pitiless with pain. The door of the round tower was +in front of him. He need not look back. He could escape and get clean +away. He could leave without compunction this creature who had set a +snare for him, to trip him up out of the freedom of his new life, this +creature, Kitty! + +All this while she had not made a sound. He did not know how long he had +been silent. Perhaps she had slipped out of the room without his +noticing, but he did not think so; he felt she was in the room. + +Perhaps she sat in some beautiful, seductive attitude, waiting to catch +and hold his unwary eyes; but his eyes were not unwary now. + +He turned his head and looked at Kitty. + +She was crouched up in a small chair by her desk. + +She had not even moved her dress to sit down. She looked like a +school-boy who has told a lie and does not know how to confess it. She +did not look at all seductive. + +When Anthony turned to her she met his eyes with her miserable eyes +without flinching; but her misery was not for herself. She spoke +quickly. + +“Poor old Tony! Hadn’t you better go? I’m frightfully sorry to have let +you down like this. I didn’t dream you thought—such an impossible thing +of me. You see, every one knows. I haven’t hidden anything; even +Peckham, I think, knows. But I did hide a little from Peckham; it would +have made her feel so—so awfully upset. So I just hoped she wouldn’t +guess. I really didn’t think I need tell Peckham. D’you know, Tony, if I +were you, I’d go? I would honestly. And don’t bother to think about me, +because, you see, what you thought me—wasn’t there at all; it was just +a girl who didn’t exist. But lots of frightfully nice girls do. I wish +it hadn’t happened.” She paused and drew a long, difficult breath. “I +wish it hadn’t happened,” she repeated dully. + +Anthony stirred uneasily in his chair. She looked so different from the +brilliant Kitty who had turned on the light and stood before him like a +golden flame. She looked tired and without any charm. She did not even +hold up her head. She was perfectly right, of course; he had loved some +one who didn’t exist, a reckless, but innocent, girl whom he could have +made a home for and protected from all the evil of the world. + +He could get over a woman who didn’t exist. He could not protect this +Kitty; she was herself part of the world’s evil. Still, this Kitty had +said she cared for him and she looked upset. He told himself sharply +that it served her right to care; and of course she was upset, because +he had escaped her; he wasn’t one of her many captives. + +Anthony took human justice into his heart and felt it very cold. + +He had known what pain was, and the complete knowledge of pain unfits +the heart for executing justice. + +He got up and went over to where Kitty sat hunched up on the Sheraton +chair. + +“I wouldn’t be such a beast as to leave you,” he said, kneeling down +beside her. “I’m sorry I made that mistake. Let me stay on somehow, +Kitty.” + +Kitty began to speak; then she moved nervously away from him to the +window. + +“Oh, you’d much better go!” she said between her teeth. + +Anthony followed her. + +“Do you want me to go?” he asked, fixing her with his eyes. + +“How can I want you to go?” she said impatiently. “It’s all too—stupid. +I’ve been such a fool. I wish I hadn’t, Tony, and now it’s too late. If +you’ve been a fool too often, you can’t stop. I’ve got into the way of +it; I can’t get out. But what’s the use—of your getting into the way of +it, too?” + +“Perhaps I sha’n’t,” said Anthony. “Perhaps together we can manage +something? We might even manage to get out.” + +He was aware that he was suggesting something he did not know the +strength of; but Kitty knew the strength of it. She looked at him with +weary, doubtful eyes. + +There was not a sound anywhere in the house. The rain dripped slowly +from the eaves; the air hung in a thick mist about the old gray tower; +the night shut them in upon themselves. + +“Well,” said Kitty at last, “I suppose I’ll try and be your friend; I do +rather want one. I’ll talk to you to-morrow. You’d better go now. It’s +not exactly what I’d planned as an end to our evening; still, it ought +to please Peckham. Good-by, Tony. Be careful of the stairs as you go +down.” + +He looked at her for a moment. She stood smiling at him with a queer, +crooked little smile. It made him wonder why, after all, he was leaving +her. He hadn’t any sense that he was doing right; he had only a queer +instinct that he wanted to think things over and not to let her down. +She had been let down so often. She had let herself down so often. + +He turned and left her without looking back. + +Kitty waited till she heard the door of the tower close at the foot of +the stairs. Then she lay down on the divan and closed her eyes. Her face +was white and drawn as if with very sharp physical pain. She kept quite +still and made no sound; but after an hour had passed she got up and +began walking to and fro, as Anthony had done while he was waiting for +her; but no one came to bring any light to Kitty. + +Once she went to the open window and looked out into the night. + +“I can’t bear it,” she whispered between her teeth; and then, “I shall +have to bear it.” + +Toward morning she went slowly to her own room and undressed. The pain +had gone now. She turned her face toward the dawn and slept. + + + CHAPTER XIII + +Anthony found himself wondering the next morning if he hadn’t put his +foot into it. The breakfast-table is a place where the emotions of last +night are apt to bring this metaphor home to one’s mind. Heroism looks +less heroic before ham and eggs, and the desire to save the world +flickers in front of bread and marmalade. + +The breakfast-table at Merry Gardens was a particularly normal and +easy-going institution. There were things left hot on the side-board, +and you could be as late as you liked. Very often there was no other +company provided for you but sunbeams and the morning newspaper. + +Anthony’s adventure of the night before did not precisely sink in its +significance, but he imperceptibly changed his attitude toward it. +Hadn’t he, after all, been rather a fool? He was a practical man, and he +had allowed himself to get into a situation which was, to say the least +of it, unpractical. Kitty had refused his offer, and he had refused +hers. What, then, was their alternative? + +Anthony knew too much about his feelings to suppose that the momentary +shock given to them would do more than hold them back for a time. He was +the same, and so was Kitty. She was a different person from the Kitty he +had believed her to be, but she had the same powers of attraction. If +they drifted, they would drift in one direction—the direction he +intended to avoid. It was only if they parted that they could escape +both the horns of their dilemma. The reasonable thing, then, was to +part, as Kitty herself had pointed out to him. + +Some strange, obscure, but very obstinate feeling in Anthony the night +before had refused to endorse his reason. He could not leave her looking +like a beaten child. + +Daphne came in and poured out his tea. She explained that Jim had been +up hours trying to persuade a calf that its best interests lay in the +direction of the butcher. Jim was better than the cow-man at these +moments of persuasion, because he always knew which way an unwilling +animal is liable to turn. The cow-man went the other way with force, but +Jim went the same way with strategy, and calves, like the rest of +humanity, yield readily only to those who appear to be agreeing with +them. + +“That brings us back to the old question,” said Anthony, tapping a +new-laid egg, “of which we are wisest to follow, reason or instinct?” + +“It doesn’t bring Jim back to it,” Daphne replied, with a dimple; +“because he hasn’t any reason. He just feels things are so, and they are +so. I never knew a person who had fewer processes and more arrivals.” + +“Then you think instincts are wiser than reasons, even when they +contradict common sense?” asked Anthony, curiously. + +“Oh, common sense!” said Daphne, with contempt. “Who minds contradicting +common sense? I’m sure I don’t; it’s so crude! It sounds all right, and +then you poke it, and over it goes like a house of cards. Besides, when +you come down to it, it’s generally a way of saving one’s own corns. +When people say, ‘But do let us take a common-sense view of things,’ +don’t they always mean, ‘Don’t, for heaven’s sake! let me in for +anything’?” + +Anthony laughed. + +“My profession is founded on common sense,” he explained. “Half of good +doctoring is looking at facts straight and acting on them sensibly. +People who get ill can’t do this, and doctors drag them back into it and +hold them there till nature reinforces them. I can’t dismiss common +sense so lightly. Besides, you let in other people as well as yourself +if you act against reason. What becomes of bad instincts?” + +“Oh, I don’t call them instincts,” said Daphne. “Those are desires, they +come out of the top of your mind, you know, and pretend to be instincts, +because they’re strong, and you want to do them. When I say an instinct, +I mean the whole of you, back of your mind, that set feeling like a good +chocolate shape. You feel, ‘I’ve _got_ to do it,’ not, ‘I _want_ to do +it.’ Something bigger than you is getting at you or coming out through +you, I don’t know which.” + +“I don’t believe in things bigger than myself interfering with my will,” +said Anthony. “I have not experienced it.” Then he stopped suddenly. +After all, he _had_ experienced it, had been himself subject in dreadful +hours to strange reinforcements. He had known and done things that he +could not account for; they had not come from himself. Perhaps they came +from his unconscious self; but he disliked this phrase, which he thought +fanciful. + +“That’s a duck’s egg,” observed Daphne, swiftly. “They taste a little +stronger, but they’re just as nice. If it’s _there_, the something I +mean, it doesn’t matter whether you believe in it or not. I mean _it_ +won’t mind. It’s too large to mind; it just acts.” + +“You seem to know a good deal about _it_” said Anthony, accepting the +duck’s egg. “Newly married people make extraordinary discoveries. First +they discover themselves. This, I believe, takes the honeymoon, and is +not interesting to observers; then they discover the universe; after +that they settle down and proceed to take both to pieces at their +leisure. You seem to be in the middle phase, the most illuminating to +the uninitiated. May I ask if you know how your glorified instinct is +liable to act, and what it feels like?” + +“If it’s your instinct,” said Daphne, with unshaken confidence, +“_you’ll_ know that. I don’t know anything about your instinct, you see; +I only know my own. It’s just telling me I haven’t ordered the dinner, +and the butcher may come any minute, so I must be quick about it. You’ll +be in to-night, won’t you?” + +Anthony hesitated. + +“I don’t know,” he said. “Better not count on me.” + +Daphne, too, paused for a moment. Then she said tentatively: + +“Mother comes next week, Tony.” + +Anthony met her eyes steadily. + +“Yes, Daphne,” he answered. + +“It’ll be rather awkward,” Daphne began a little uncomfortably, “about +Kitty, won’t it? Mother’s sure to guess there’s somebody, and wonder why +we don’t have her here. Do you really _want_ me to have Kitty here, +Tony?” + +Anthony got up, and opened the door for her. + +“No,” he said quietly, “I don’t.” + +Daphne drew a quick breath as if something had hurt her. She knew that +yesterday Anthony had wanted Kitty to come to the house. + +Their eyes held each other for a long moment, but neither of them said +anything. The Ardens were a frank, but uncommunicative, family. They +expressed what they thought, but they kept their private affairs to +themselves. When they most wanted to show sympathy they got out of one +another’s way. + +Daphne left him alone now. She went to deal with the cook, and Anthony +resettled to his breakfast. + +He had decided what to do. His conversation with Daphne had not altered +him,—conversations with women never did,—it had merely helped to +crystallize his intention. He would go and tell Kitty their scheme +wouldn’t work: + +It wouldn’t be particularly easy to tell her after having persuaded her +the night before to try it, but it would be less easy still for Kitty if +they tried it and it failed. If they had got to part, they could at +least part decently and as friends. + +This was where Anthony made his first mistake: lovers do not part as +friends. If they meet in order to part, they very seldom succeed in +parting at all, and when they do succeed, it is with bitterness and +without the sanity of reasonable forms. + +When Anthony arrived at the farm he found Mr. Costrelle in possession. +He had motored over from a friend’s house in the course of the morning. + +“I always arrive an hour before dinner and leave an hour after +breakfast,” Mr. Costrelle informed Anthony. “I consider it one of the +chief rules of civilization. Nobody wants to see you trailing about his +house all day with a train in your eye. I am sure you agree with me. I +arrived here at this unearthly hour only because Kitty has persuaded me +to look on this as a home; otherwise I would have motored to and fro +from duck pond to duck pond till seven o’clock in the evening, poisoning +myself with bad sherry and cold beef rolled in sawdust, which is what +English inns provide you with in the place of food. The country is a +beastly place for putting in time. ‘The kindly fruits of the earth’ are +very much overrated. I never enjoy them, and there are no rational +amusements. I don’t know how you can stand it.” + +Kitty laughed. + +“Tony hasn’t found any difficulty so far,” she remarked, “but of course +he doesn’t happen to be my father. You’ve just come in time,” she added +to Anthony. “Papa has brought me an invitation from an aunt to stay two +or three weeks with her in London—an invitation that’s been about five +years en route, and I’m going to show him what rags I have to wear. You +can help him decide if they’ll do.” + +“You’d better go to Paris,” observed Mr. Costrelle, “and buy new ones. +It won’t take any time and will save a lot of worry.” + +“I can’t afford it,” said Kitty, briefly. + +Mr. Costrelle looked from Kitty to Anthony and from Anthony to Kitty. He +drew out a long and extraordinarily good cigar. It was as fragrant as +very good tea. + +“Well,” he said in his slow, cool voice, in which suggestion always told +with the directness of a carefully chosen chemical, “I should have +thought you could have afforded it—somehow or other.” + +If Mr. Costrelle had said, “Isn’t this man here to foot your bills?” he +could not have made his meaning clearer. + +Kitty flushed suddenly to the roots of her hair; the tears showed for an +instant in her eyes. It was the only time in her life that she appeared +obviously disconcerted. She spoke quickly. + +“Oh, one can always raise money, of course—” she agreed, with a little +shaken laugh. “I’m not totally at the end of my resources, Papa. Still, +I think what I have will do. You two sit up here in the tower as a +council of war, and I’ll try them before you one by one. It’ll be a +mannikin show without music.” + +Mr. Costrelle nodded and prepared to make himself comfortable. + +He had spent between fifty and sixty years in the pursuit of comfort, +and he could always effect the process better for himself than the most +careful attendant could accomplish for him. + +He shut the tower windows because he disliked drafts, then he chose the +easiest position on the divan with consideration, placed himself with +his back to the light—he disliked glare—drew a footstool in front of +him, and proceeded to enjoy his cigar. + +He did not ask Anthony if he smoked; he did not care if Anthony smoked +or not. He considered his cigars far too good for young men. + +Anthony watched him with an antagonism that was queerly blended with +amusement. It was impossible not to be amused by a person whose +absorption in himself was so unruffled. Mr. Costrelle was tall, lean, +and pale. He had a long, well-finished face with remarkably blue eyes; +they shone out of the hollows of his white cheeks like forget-me-nots by +the side of a pool. + +His hair was gray, thick, and very well brushed. He went to the best +tailor in London and had an excellent set of the shoulders. He carried +the marks of his perpetual dissipation lightly. They were plain to +Anthony’s trained and scrutinizing eyes, but they would have escaped the +ordinary observer. + +Mr. Costrelle had done several generous actions in his life; he had not +yet become incapable of doing them, but he had never continuously put +himself out for any one. He did not care what people thought of him, and +he said whatever came into his head. When he wanted to do a thing he did +it, whatever consequences might follow. He considered it extremely +bourgeois to be checked by consequences; and though he had a very shrewd +idea of the feelings of others, as people who live for sensation usually +have, he never for a moment stopped to consider them. He asked no +quarter and he gave none. He did not believe in any one else’s motives. +If they were different from his own, he thought them morbid or +sentimental. + +Mr. Costrelle believed that some people were foolish about getting what +they wanted and other people were intelligent, but he did not think +there was any other difference worth mentioning. He said to Kitty: + +“I shall take trouble to show you the ropes, but I sha’n’t take any +further trouble about you. A person who knows the ropes and doesn’t +follow them properly is a fool, and a fool’s a person that every one +else had better avoid.” + +Mr. Costrelle observed Anthony without looking at him. Anthony was a +good-looking man of his own class who had had a rough time of it and had +succeeded in holding himself together. Mr. Costrelle had already decided +that it was high time Kitty settled down and married. He came down on +purpose to tell her so, and he decided that Anthony would do as well as +any one else. + +Anthony did not look a particularly easy man to fool, but his having had +a bad time would probably make him easier, and Mr. Costrelle did justice +to his daughter; he considered that Kitty, if she kept her head, could +fool any man. + +This decision did not make Mr. Costrelle politer to Anthony; it merely +made him observant. + +“You interested in women’s clothes?” he remarked after a pause. + +“No,” said Anthony. “I suppose I have a general idea of whether they +suit them or not.” + +“It’s a great waste of time having general ideas about clothes,” said +Mr. Costrelle, dispassionately. “It’s a thing men ought to study +carefully in order to help the women. Women have very little sense about +what they wear; they put themselves into the hands of dressmakers, +ignorant and interested people, most of ’em, and get ruined. Of course +my girl’s different. I taught Kitty myself. She consults the one or two +real designers there are in Paris, but she has her own ideas. She is the +only perfectly dressed woman I know. You never see her in a motor +looking as if she were going to a Sunday-school treat, or off to church +as if she were leading a ballet. She considers the occasion, what hat’ll +carry in a high wind, what in general suits her at different times of +the day, and she gets the right shade and the right materials and puts +’em on properly. + +“Cut is the main point. A woman should know her own figure as a captain +knows his ship. If she goes wrong about line, give her up as a bad job; +take her to the nearest department shop and let her run amuck among +ready-made clothes. Nothing’ll save her. The French haven’t anything +like our natural amount of beauty, but you hardly ever see a plain woman +in France. Women have too much sense to be plain over there. They know +how to avoid it; besides, their men help them. Look at a German _Frau_! +By Jove! she is the indictment of the whole race. It’s a satisfaction to +me to think that the Germans have the women they deserve. + +“Ah, here’s Kitty, black and white, with a touch of scarlet. Those +stripes are too broad for your height, Kitty; they make you look like a +young zebra. You want to have the stripes halved. Get it copied with a +smaller stripe, and, I should say, a quarter of an inch shorter. You can +stand it, and the scarlet’ll tell more; otherwise it’ll do very nicely.” + +The dresses followed one another in a bewildering flood; they seemed to +Anthony interminable and extravagant, and yet he found himself enchanted +by them. In each he was confronted by a new Kitty. It was like seeing a +succession of Lady Hamilton’s portraits: you could not fix your mind on +which was loveliest. + +Kitty was not so beautiful as the immortal Emma, but she had more +spirit. She had the quality which makes a man sit up. No man in Kitty’s +presence ever forgot to make the best of himself; it seemed worth while. + +Mr. Costrelle smoked on steadily, with watchful eyes. Nothing escaped +his criticism. He examined the smallest detail, and he and Kitty +discussed the points of difference inexhaustibly. They listened +indulgently to Anthony when he spoke, but they plainly regarded him as +one of the uninitiated. + +Their relationship surprised Anthony, who had been brought up in a +family where the feeling of kinship was strong, it was at once so +cordial and so casual. Kitty and her father might have been congenial +strangers meeting for the first time in a railway-carriage. They +obviously got on well together, but there seemed no particular reason +why they should ever meet again. + +Kitty reappeared for the last time in the yellow chiffon dress she had +worn the night before. It was intolerable to Anthony that she should +wear it now. Kitty took it as a matter of course; she even sat in the +small Sheraton chair, with her head thrown back, and glanced across the +room with unmoved eyes at her father. + +“Do you think I’m all right in this particular primrose shade?” she +asked anxiously. “I meant it to have less color in it, but they always +coarsen their shades over here.” + +“It’ll be better at night,” agreed her father. “If you want to tone it +down a bit, have the scarf the same color as the jade ornament.” + +“Are you sitting straight?” asked Anthony, suddenly. + +Kitty stared at him. + +“What a funny question!” she said a little irritably. “Yes, I suppose I +am.” + +“That left shoulder doesn’t look the same as the right,” said Anthony; +“that’s all.” + +Mr. Costrelle looked amazed. + +“She never had a curvature,” he said. “I hope you haven’t done anything +so stupid, my dear girl, as to develop one at your age.” + +“Of course I haven’t,” said Kitty, impatiently. “Tony’s a doctor; he’s +fussy. All doctors are fussy. They like to make discoveries; and as the +only discovery they can make is something wrong with you, they’re very +pessimistic company. What a pity you can’t discover I’m all right, Tony! +It would be much nicer for papa, and have the added merit, for the +scientific mind, of being accurate.” + +Anthony did not answer her; he was looking intently at her shoulder. +There was something wrong about it. Kitty got up with a little impatient +swing of her skirts and left the room. + +“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” observed Mr. Costrelle, thoughtfully. +“I had an idea your people owned Pannell, that jolly old place in +Sussex, under the downs.” + +“They do,” said Anthony, shortly. + +“You’re the oldest son living, aren’t you?” pursued Mr. Costrelle, +ignoring Anthony’s annoyance. + +“Yes,” said Anthony. + +“It’s a strange fad,” said Mr. Costrelle, contemplatively. “Personally I +think medical science is frightfully overrated. Things that don’t get +right of themselves, stay wrong; that’s my experience. Besides, what you +want of a doctor is not to stop your doing things, which is, I take it, +what you prescribe half the time, but to show you how you can go on +doing them with impunity. But you don’t. Nobody gives impunity—there’s +no such thing—and when you come to think of it, it’s the only thing you +want. Who cares to be well if they can’t do as they like, and who cares +to do what they like if they can’t be well?” + +Anthony ignored this conundrum. He was still thinking hard. + +“I ought to have noticed that before,” he said under his breath, +“unless, of course, she has her clothes bunched up there. That would +account for it.” + +“Her _clothes_ bunched up!” said Mr. Costrelle with scorn. “My dear +young man, is that the kind of dress which has clothes bunched up under +it, and is Kitty, poor innocent child—innocent I mean of being +idiotic—the kind of person not to put on her clothes properly?” + +Kitty came back, and the subject dropped. + +“I don’t see how you ever succeeded in getting Aunt Mallard to invite me +to the house again,” said Kitty, “considering my fearful reputation. Do +you, Tony? You must have been awfully clever, Papa.” + +“No,” said Mr. Costrelle, complacently, “I was not, in this instance, +clever; I was merely good. Very few women who have passed their first +youth are obdurate to a repentant sinner of the opposite sex. Your aunt +was no exception. I sacrificed myself for you. I simply said: ‘My dear +Augusta, can you wonder that the child has tales told about her when you +consider my career? I regret it deeply, but it has been I hesitate to +tell you how shocking. I dare say if I had done as you advised earlier, +and had a thoroughly good companion for her, people might have held +their tongues; but you know what country tongues are, unsophisticated +and anxious to believe the worst. And I admit I disliked the idea of a +respectable middle-aged lady in my house—I mean in Kitty’s house. They +never have been in mine as far as I can remember. Either I should have +shocked them, and they would have gone; or else I wouldn’t have shocked +them, and then they wouldn’t have been of much use if they had stayed. +You see my point?’ + +“Your aunt said she did, and that it was deplorable; she added: ‘As all +my girls are married, I don’t mind taking Kitty for a fortnight. But +mind, no fast married men are to come to the house.’ + +“Your aunt is so intelligent and, for a deeply religious woman, so on +the spot. + +“I took the liberty of answering for you, Kitty; but I said I supposed +it didn’t matter how fast the unmarried men were. And your aunt most +tactfully remarked that it didn’t do to be too old-fashioned.” + +“I dare say I shall have some fun,” said Kitty, thoughtfully. “I hope +you said I must have a latch-key.” + +Mr. Costrelle shook his head. + +“I did my best,” he explained. “I said you were always very considerate +about the servants not having late hours, and that if you happened to be +out with me—to a theater or a lecture, you know—it might be as well +for her to lend you an extra key. She said lectures were never late. It +was the best I could do. I dare say you’ll manage it better.” + +“Dear old thing!” said Kitty, appreciatively, “how well you get on with +Aunt Augusta! It seems almost a pity you don’t see more of her.” + +“It’s not at all a pity,” said Mr. Costrelle, firmly. “She takes away my +appetite for lunch, to which she always invites me. Women with drab +complexions should never wear fawn color; but they always do.” + +“I’ll be one of the unmarried ones,” said Anthony, suddenly. “I suppose +I can call even if I am not fast?” + +“Will you?” said Kitty, carelessly. + +She took it as a matter of course, and yet an hour ago it had not been a +matter of course. + +Anthony looked away from Kitty. He was aware that he had never cared so +little for her as he did at the moment of his decision. + +She and her father struck him as intolerably light. He could not +understand their rapacity for pleasure. Neither of them had any fixed +goal beyond their fugitive desires. + +All their wits, all their ingenuities, were bent in attaining temporary +gratifications. Neither of them had any roots or appeared to have any +compunction. + +Last night Kitty had seemed to be really sorry; she had spoken with what +sounded like conviction. Where was the conviction now? She had wanted +Anthony as a stand-by, if as nothing else. To-day she was apparently +indifferent whether he was there or not. + +It would be easy to leave her now, and yet Anthony knew that what held +him to her was the very fact of her incorrigible lightness. It had +flashed into his mind that she was threatened—threatened as a butterfly +is threatened by the brutal onslaught of a sudden storm. He could feel +the pitiless cold of it against her colored wings. There was no shelter +for her in Mr. Costrelle, and Kitty had herself broken down all other +shelters. + +Anthony could have left Kitty if he had been certain of the sunshine for +her. There might, after all, be nothing wrong; but Anthony was not +certain of the sunshine. + + + CHAPTER XIV + +After lunch they went on the river. Mr. Costrelle excused himself. He +explained that only the very young or the exasperatingly dutiful ever +did things between the hours of two and four o’clock in the afternoon. +This was a time that should be dedicated to a reticent idleness. As he +was neither young nor dutiful, he intended to conceal himself until +tea-time. + +Kitty reappeared in a dress that was the color of a Malmaison carnation. +She had a felt hat of the same shade, with a narrow black-velvet ribbon +round it, and she carried a rose-colored parasol. + +“The ways of women,” observed Mr. Costrelle, regarding Kitty +thoughtfully through a single eyeglass, “are strange. They are not past +finding out, as we are told those of Providence are, but they have at +times the same deceptive sidewise movement, like a crab’s. Explain to +us, my dear child, why you refrained from showing us that very excellent +garment this morning. The pink topaz set in brilliants, which you wear +round your neck, is new to me and a good note.” + +“Oh, this dress?” said Kitty, serenely. “I forgot I had it.” + +A flicker of amusement passed over Mr. Costrelle’s heavy eyelids. He +knew now what he had wanted to find out. Kitty liked this new young man; +she liked him enough to reserve surprises for him, and then lie about +them. He let his eyeglass fall and retired into the house. + +It was one of those early summer days which England occasionally drops +upon her appreciative, but unexpectant, inhabitants. May was at its +loveliest, the trees were all in blossom, the blackbird gave his deepest +under-water note, the thrush flung out his reiterated challenge of sheer +joy, and the young world was full of the surprises of its multitudinous +green shades. On the river the reeds and rushes lived a life of their +own; loose-strife and forget-me-nots grew out from the green banks; +yellow water lilies and lifted buds of coral set their small thick-set +flowers afloat upon the stream. Dragon-flies darted to and fro, shooting +blue and green flames between the fastnesses of the dark bulrushes, +small shocks of speed and color. + +Kitty leaned back against the apple-green cushions of the punt, +supremely comfortable and at peace. + +She was always capable of complete surrender to a sunny hour; her +conscience never interfered with either her own or other people’s +comfort. She had the disposition of ephemeral things to love the light +and play in it, however short it was. + +Kitty crossed her slim ankles, and, opening a jeweled case, drew out a +cigarette and lit it. She narrowed her eyes and fixed them upon Anthony +with satisfaction. + +Anthony’s head was bare and his shirt open at the throat; his figure +showed to better advantage in motion than at rest. Motion relieved and +freed him from his own watchfulness. He punted with long, sure strokes +and a steady eye. + +Kitty had no need to think of her hat or fear the magnetism of +low-growing bushes. The motion of the boat was imperceptible and +noiseless; it seemed a part of the slow-moving stream. She yielded +herself completely to the serene compulsion of the sunny hour. She +smiled a little, but she had no thoughts; her mind melted into +sensation. + +But Anthony could not let himself go. He, too, wanted to enjoy himself; +but he had an ulterior motive, and no one with an ulterior motive has +ever yet succeeded in sharing the joy of others. + +He leaned forward suddenly, with his eyes intent upon Kitty’s face. + +“What is the matter with that shoulder of yours?” he asked quickly. + +Kitty turned her lazy eyes back to the stream. They rested on the quick +spurt of a dragon-fly between the hawthorn bushes. + +“Oh,” she said carelessly, “didn’t I tell you? You were right, after +all. I’d caught up some ribbons I wear on a bodice underneath; they did +make an awful lump. Don’t tell papa. He’d think it so careless of me not +to have taken it off.” + +“It was the only low-necked dress you tried on,” observed Anthony, with +the same intentness. + +“Was it?” replied Kitty, indifferently. “I don’t think I have any other +decent ones. I must get some when I go to town. I hardly ever go out in +the evenings here.” + +Kitty’s carelessness would have deceived the very elect, but she did not +quite succeed in deceiving Anthony. Added to the keenness of his +professional training was the instinctive watchfulness of love. Anthony +noticed that when Kitty had answered him she unconsciously straightened +herself a little, nor did she return to the same complete relaxation +again. She in her turn watched him. + +“Oh, that’s all right, then,” he answered in a tone of obvious relief, +which was more successful in blinding Kitty than she had been in +deceiving him. “I am going to stay here till you turn me out this +afternoon,” he added. “To-morrow I sha’n’t be able to see you. My +mother’s coming to Merry Gardens.” + +“What’s she like?” asked Kitty, curiously. + +Few men are capable of giving a comprehensive description of their +mothers offhand, and Anthony was no exception. + +“Oh, well,” he said a little awkwardly, “I suppose she’s like other +people’s mothers.” + +Kitty brushed aside this evasion. + +“You must tell me about her,” she asserted. “I never met her, you know. +She came to see Daphne after Daphne first came here, but I was away. I +should like to see your mother, Tony.” + +This was merely the expression of a pious hope on Kitty’s part. She was +not really desirous of meeting the mothers of her men friends, with whom +her one point of contact would have led to direct antagonism, and she +would have let the matter slide if Anthony had shown a little tact. + +Tact with women is the knowledge of when to leave a subject alone, and +Anthony had not grasped this saving truth. + +“Oh, no,” he remarked hurriedly, “you wouldn’t care about her in the +least. She’s not your sort, she wouldn’t entertain you.” + +Kitty’s narrowed eyes grew slowly larger. + +“You mean,” she said in a voice of deceptive gentleness, “that she +wouldn’t like me and would disapprove of me?” + +This was, of course, what Anthony had meant, but the way was still open +to him to save the situation by a direct denial. The path of +transgressors is hard, but it is softness itself compared with the path +of a man who tells an adverse truth to a woman who loves him. + +Kitty could stand criticism, but she could not stand Anthony’s +criticism. + +“In a sense I do mean that,” agreed Anthony. “I mean both. It wouldn’t +be at all suitable.” + +“I assure you,” said Kitty, with dangerous sweetness, “I have sometimes +had a ‘_succés fou_’ with old ladies.” + +Anthony winced. He did not like hearing his mother called an old lady, +nor did he like to think of Kitty setting herself to win a delusive +popularity from his mother. + +“It wouldn’t do at all,” he said decisively. “I told Daphne so this +morning.” + +Kitty sat up perfectly straight. She threw her cigarette into the water; +her eyes literally blazed at Anthony. + +“You did what?” she asked incredulously. “You told Daphne that I was +unsuitable to meet your mother?” + +“Practically,” Anthony admitted. + +“Then Daphne knows,” said Kitty in a cold, level voice, “that _you_ know +what I am.” + +Anthony drew the punt into the nearest bank, shipped his pole, and sat +down opposite Kitty. He saw now that he was in for trouble, and he +prepared to face it. + +“She only knows I didn’t think it suitable,” he replied doggedly. “I +can’t help it, Kitty, I don’t!” + +“Suitable!” exclaimed Kitty, her voice lashing at the word. “No, I +suppose I’m _not_ suitable; that’s what you all are in your nice, safe, +tidy, unspeakably selfish world! Your mother’s _safe_, Daphne’s safe, +you’re safe—and, if you like, you can play with me outside it, and take +anything I care to give you, and _you’re_ all right! My father could +meet your mother,—you know his life, don’t you?—but that doesn’t +matter. He’s quite suitable. Only girls who have had bad times and been +broken by them aren’t suitable. They’re dangerous; they must be kept +down! They’d do elderly respectable married women harm! We’d shock them, +I suppose, by showing them what happens when things don’t go right in +this awfully easy, decent, bread-and-butter world! + +“You refused to let Daphne invite me. Yesterday you fought my battles +and were keen to get me asked, but yesterday of course you thought I was +innocent—a little rapid—but innocent. To-day I’m not. I’m just a +graceless little pariah you can take out in a punt! You offered me your +friendship last night, and I was fool enough to think you meant +something rather fine by it. You didn’t; you meant just this—that I was +good enough to amuse you, but I mustn’t touch your precious family with +a forty-foot pole. + +“Take me back, Tony. I wish I’d left you to Miss Mellicot. But you’re +worse than her, for she’d have had the sense to leave me alone.” + +“You’re hopelessly unfair,” said Anthony, steadying himself against his +rising anger. “You want both to eat your cake and have it. You went off +the track of your own free will, then why don’t you stay off it? I +didn’t make the damned rules that keep people on it; but I know they’re +there, and if you break them—and you have a perfect right to break them +if you want to—you ought to be prepared to pay for it and not hold me +accountable. If people take the trouble to keep a few plain rules in +order to make a good, clean place for bringing up their children, why +should they let in those who haven’t controlled themselves to spoil it?” + +“You’ve said enough,” said Kitty, white to the lips. “Take me home.” + +“No, I haven’t said enough,” said Anthony, firmly, “and I want you to +listen to me, because I want to stand by you through anything except +unfairness. But it’s no use expecting me to agree to a lot of +sentimental cant about the kindness and unkindness of a perfectly +obvious fact. It isn’t a question of my mother only. Of course it +wouldn’t hurt her to meet you, and of course if you wanted to charm her, +you’d charm her, then she’d ask you to Pannell.” + +“That,” interrupted Kitty, viciously, “_would_ bring the world to an +end, wouldn’t it? How I should contaminate Pannell! You’d have to have +the whole place disinfected afterward!” + +“That’s not the point,” replied Anthony, pitilessly. “The point is that +you would be there on false pretenses, because my people wouldn’t let +you come, of course, if they knew what I know about you. Do you like +going about on false pretenses? But of course you do. I’m a fool to +suppose you have any honor; you’re going to London now on false +pretenses.” + +“Ah,” interrupted Kitty, with a cruel little laugh, “I see. You object +to my going to London. That’s your real trouble, isn’t it? I might meet +a man there who wouldn’t be as selfish as a dog in the manger and as +moral as a curate. I might meet a _real_ man.” + +Anthony’s impulse was to spring out of the punt on to the bank and leave +Kitty. + +She sat there looking at him with a little derisive smile on her lips. +There was no light in her small, white face; it was fixed and implacable +and as set against him as an iron door. + +Anthony felt every passion he thought he had conquered rise up in him, +and they were all ugly, greedy, cruel passions without intermixture or +relief. The green trees met over their heads; the high, pale clouds +sailed by on idle wings; the whole lovely summer world about them was as +unreal as a painted screen. Only their anger was real; their unsparing +desire to hurt each other was real; their foolish, ineffectual combat, +which took for both of them the light out of the day. + +Kitty held herself as still as a trapped bird. Her heart beat painfully +in her throat, but she met Anthony’s angry eyes with her level, light +gaze, and kept her smiling lips unshaken. + +“D’you mean that, Kitty?” Anthony asked slowly. “D’you mean I don’t seem +like a real man to you because I want to make love to you and haven’t? +By God! I’ll make love to you now if you do.” + +“If you dare to touch me,” said Kitty, quietly, “I’ll upset the boat. Of +course I shall never speak to you again in any case.” + +“Oh, all right,” said Anthony, “only in the future when you feel +inclined to cry down the justice of good people you might remember with +what kind of fairness you’ve treated me. I’m off. You can punt back by +yourself, can’t you?” + +“No, I can’t,” said Kitty. + +There was something in the way in which she said these three little +words that shook Anthony. + +He could not have said what it was that shook him, but there was a +controlled helplessness in Kitty’s voice which prevented him from +leaving her. + +“I’ll take you back, then,” he said stiffly. + +It occurred to him afterward that he might have punted back and let +Kitty walk home, but it did not occur to him then, and it never crossed +his mind that it had occurred to Kitty already, but that she knew she +could not walk. + +He took up the pole suddenly and rose to his feet. + +Kitty watched him for a few moments in silence, then she said in a small +contrite voice: + +“Tony, I was angry; I didn’t mean that—not the horrid thing I said +about your not being a man. It’s just because you are I mind so awfully. +Of course it’s silly. One really likes one’s own world best and one +shouldn’t poach. I expect you did mean all you said, didn’t you?” + +Anthony considered. He could not honestly say that he had not meant what +he said, but he wished very much he had not said it. There are probably +few regrets more keen than those we feel when we have been righteous +over much. + +“I dare say,” he admitted, “that what made me so nasty _was_ partly your +going to London. We were having—at least I thought we were—rather a +good time here, and all of a sudden you seemed to forget all about it +and only to think of clothes and nothing else, like a gnat in the air +turning people’s heads and all that London rubbish, and I felt I’d been +a fool to care so much when you evidently couldn’t have cared at all.” + +“I see,” said Kitty. + +She leaned back against the cushions with the lightness of a fallen +leaf. She turned her head away so that the brim of her hat shaded her +from Anthony’s persistent eyes. + +“I do want to go to London, Tony,” she said slowly, “only I liked this, +too. You make a mistake if you thought I didn’t care. I do care for all +this. What you said about false pretenses, you know, I’ve always thought +of differently. I never really believed I owed it to the world not to +score off it when I could. I felt I had been downed. If Aunt Augusta had +cared a button for me, I’d have told her the truth and taken the +consequences; but she is getting something by having me up or she +wouldn’t ask me. I don’t know how to explain quite. I’ve cared for +awfully few people and I’ve never tried to explain unless I’ve cared, +and I haven’t felt as if I owed anybody anything; but though I honestly +chose my own line, and ought to face it, I would have kept my—my +self-control, as you call it, and made the effort, if I’d been even a +little happy or had had any one who cared a pin whether I kept straight +or not. Of course there was Peckham, but she wasn’t with me then. I was +awfully lonely, and then I knew how. Lots of other girls are quite as +lonely, but a good many of them keep out of my little bothers because, +you see, they don’t know how. Not all, of course; they’re real good ones +too, only it’s not as different as you think. Awfully few people are +_really_ different; things that push them about are different.” + +Anthony acknowledged this possibility. He didn’t want to hurt Kitty now; +he wanted to spare her, but he was uncertain of the best way of sparing +her. Facts had not spared her, and Anthony still believed in the wisdom +of facts. + +“Still,” he explained, “if people have met hard times by keeping +straight, it doesn’t seem quite fair for those who have chosen what is, +I suppose, after all, the easier way, to come down on the straight ones +for not wanting to share their privileges with them. There is something, +isn’t there, in paying for your fun?” + +Kitty smiled her little twisted smile. + +“Oh, yes, Tony,” she said; “I know, and it’s more sensible to be good, +and you get an awful lot of things thrown in—coals and blankets, you +know. The fun doesn’t keep you half as warm as the coals and blankets, +but I expect it’s quite fair really.” + +“Sometimes it’s the other way round,” objected Anthony. “I don’t think +being good or bad is advantageous in itself; it depends on what you’re +out for. If you’re out for an easy time, I think the chances are that +you get what you want more easily by being lawless. Only if you have to +pay for it afterward, as I’m bound to admit in a carefully policed world +the lawless usually do, you mustn’t squeal, must you? That’s my idea.” + +“No, I won’t squeal,” said Kitty in a low voice. “I think I see what you +mean, Tony. We’ll go home now.” + +“Must we?” pleaded Anthony. “I’ve been such a brute and I’ve given you +such a loathsome time, and I think I wanted to be particularly nice. I +don’t know how it happened.” + +“I do,” said Kitty, laughing; “I know exactly how it happened. It was +all my fault. I wanted to be wicked, but now I want to go in. I’m not +really feeling quite good yet. I’ve climbed down, and that’s made me +awfully anxious for my tea. I’ve never climbed down for any one in my +life before, Tony; so when I’m particularly tiresome you’ll remember +that,—won’t you?—and in return I’ll try to forgive you for being in +the right.” + +“I don’t know that I was in the right,” said Anthony, uncertainly making +for the landing-stage. + +“That’ll make it all the easier to forgive you,” said Kitty, lightly. +“You’ll put the cushions away, won’t you, while I go up to the house?” + +She slipped out of the punt and up the narrow wooden steps before +Anthony could help her, but she did not go straight back to the house. + +It was some time before she rejoined Anthony, and her father, on the +lawn. + +“If I were you,” said Mr. Costrelle as she approached the tea-table, “I +should send for some more of that face cream from Paris. You’ve sat out +too long in the sun.” + + + CHAPTER XV + +Kitty was unaccustomed to the processes of thought; she considered +reason to be of the same general quality as coal-mining, a useful +industry safely left in the hands of experts. She did not foresee +trouble. She came against the corners of adverse facts as those who walk +unwarily in the dark bruise themselves against unexpected obstacles. + +When she went to bed the night after her quarrel with Anthony she found +herself exposed to one of these unexpected spiritual bruises. She could +not sleep. It was a soundless, mild June night. The garden lay gray and +still under her window. There was no darkness; only a long suspension of +light. Nothing was alive but Kitty. She drew on a scarlet dressing-gown +and leaned out of the window. + +It must be rather funny, she thought, being dead. If it was only +stillness, like the gray shadow of the lawn, one wouldn’t mind very +much, and there would be no pain and no bother. You wouldn’t have to +decide anything. + +She was not in severe pain to-night. Those singular paroxysms which +seized her chest and her right arm, and made her feel like a creature +caught in a trap, were mercifully holding off. + +It was clever of Anthony to guess that there was something the matter +with her, perhaps it was that odd little lump under her arm which had +made one shoulder look higher than the other. She had examined her neck +very carefully before she went to bed and noticed nothing herself. + +Kitty had never taken the least precaution about her health. She knew +nothing about illness except that it was very bad for people’s looks. +She did not think a lump under her arm could be an illness. If the pain +got too bad, she would not stand it, but she wouldn’t be bothered with +doctors and operations. All the wild things she loved and knew lived +freely, and when their time came, went into bushes and died. Of course +it wouldn’t be as simple as that for her, but you could make it fairly +simple. + +A bat flickered by, heavily drooping like a sagging leaf. Kitty moved a +little and watched the darker shadow of the shrubbery swallowing its +tiny form. + +She liked the thin vague darkness melting away into the sky; there +seemed nothing that could hurt you in it. After all, she’d had a good +time, and a long life was merely the fading down of good times. + +“I don’t find anything new in it,” her father had assured her. “Nor do I +think the facts I already know worth the attention one has more or less +to give them. I survive from habit, and so, I believe, do most people.” + +Kitty did not think habit worth survival. She wished to live a hundred +lives, each of them different, and she had tried only one, and it was +very much the same. The worst of it was, if you went into one kind of +life thoroughly, it seemed to dish you for all the others. Hers for +instance—she hadn’t quite realized before how it had dished her for +people like Anthony’s mother. + +Kitty’s practice had always been to eat her cake and have it. She had +eaten and forgotten; and when she wanted fresh cake, it was always +there. It was true that there had been occasional breakdowns in this +system; but on the whole she had lived the life she had chosen, with +very few rebuffs and no remorse. It was rather absurd at this time of +day to begin to want a different kind of life. + +Perhaps it had been a mistake to take up Anthony. She hadn’t seen at the +beginning why they shouldn’t just have fun—her kind of fun. + +But Anthony had his own kind of fun. He thought about right and wrong, +though he wasn’t a bit religious. Kitty never thought about right and +wrong if she could help it. She didn’t see what it had got to do with +her and Anthony. Why couldn’t it be left to people who went to church +and liked it? When Anthony had told her about his work as if it was a +sacred obligation, she supposed it was because he had not had any +opportunity of going to musical comedies for a long time, and had +nothing else to talk about. She thought he was mad when he explained to +her that if in the future it came to a choice between having to give up +his profession or Pannell, he would give up Pannell. She hoped that he +would get over it as soon as his overstrung nerves had become more +normal. + +But Anthony had got steadily more normal, and he had not got over it. He +really wanted to do his work more than he wanted a good time. It was, +oddly enough, his idea of a good time. He kept coming back to it when he +ought to have been amusing Kitty. He actually appeared to think he was +amusing her. It was part of Anthony’s idea of fun. The rest of his fun +was loving her—loving her in a way that disturbed everything else. + +Anthony was more anxious to protect her than to please her, and he was +apparently more anxious still that she should do right. He never had +accepted the convenience of her recklessness. If he had, he might have +been with her now in this emphatic night stillness, and then she would +have told him everything. There would have been no barriers. But Anthony +did not know this. It was hidden from him by his implacable innocence! +He did not know what he might have had, or, if he continued indefinitely +the part he had chosen, what would happen to him. + +But Kitty knew. She knew that she would drag him under, and involve his +life, so that the work he loved would be hindered, and his life caught +away from the people and customs which belonged to him. He would become +a part of the circle of her lawlessness. + +He could think what he liked, that was the worst of thought it had so +much margin, but that narrow path experience was against Anthony. + +Kitty knew that out of certain situations certain facts arise, they do +not happen as you like, they happen as they must; thought does not save +any man’s steps from the abyss unless he turns away from it. + +It seemed to Kitty, as she sat huddled up on the window-sill, that the +gray light over the fields had changed a little. The shadows were darker +in it, and there was a sense of movement in the air, as if the earth was +coming back to life. A long way off she heard the call of a bird. + +There was only one way to save Anthony: she could disenchant him, she +could do what he would think despicable. He had fine, stern principles, +but Kitty hadn’t. Her only principle had been to amuse herself; so that +it would be much easier for her to give up hers than for Anthony to give +up his. Kitty did not say, “I must not do wrong even to save Anthony.” +She knew she must do wrong if it _could_ save him. She was thinking only +of him. + +The worst of it was that she would have to be really horrible. She +couldn’t put Anthony off with anything less than the complete +disfigurement of herself. He had accepted too much already not to be +willing to accept more, unless it was of such a nature as to shake his +whole faith in Kitty’s character. She must do something which would +violate his taste and make him feel that she was contemptible. + +He had forgiven badness, partly because he hadn’t seen it, and partly +because there were excuses which he could put between her and her acts. +He would not forgive her if she could make him despise her. + +Kitty hunted in her relentless, clear little mind for an essential +ugliness. There were things she had done which she hadn’t minded at the +time, but which she now realized would hurt her to tell Anthony; she had +not let herself think about these incidents before. + +She could remember the time when she had hastened over their +accomplishment because they had jarred some instinct in her, which had +first rebelled and then sunk into acquiescence. They jarred her mind now +to think about, but she faced each incident steadily in turn, to see if +it was ugly enough to disenchant Anthony. + +It must be something she had really done which he couldn’t get over, +something that would lash his memory and scar it with a cruel image, and +she must attach this image to herself, so that afterward, when he went +away, he would not crave for her, but be able to say, “Well, thank God, +I saw through her in time!” + +Kitty put her head down on the scarlet dressing-gown and shook a little +with dry, reluctant sobs. She did not cry very long or very hard, +because she was afraid of bringing on the pain; but she felt as if her +spirit was buried in a place of tears. She didn’t want Anthony to see +through her, she did not want to see through herself. Why was it that +after she had forgotten all about love, and stamped out the pure and +perfect promise of her early years, love should return and haunt her +with promises as strong as ever, and its attainment impossible? Could +those fugitive, unconnected acts into which she had flung herself from +excitement, and a desire to use her unexplored, untempered powers, close +against her forever any fuller life? + +Must she always be a “vagrant,” shut outside those magic walls which +hold mothers and their children, homes, and the rich security of love? + +Kitty lifted her head and looked out once more into the mysterious life +of the night. She could hear the distant droning of the frogs in the +water meadows, and watch the mists blown by the strong dawn wind, +flitting in strange shapes across the lawn. + +Nature went on her own silent way, clothing in darkness the deepest +processes of life. + +Kitty could not expect the assistance of a revelation either from nature +or from man. She had chosen the predatory life of loneliness in which +there is neither sympathy nor companionship, and where the outcast is +pitted against the solidarity of a hostile world. + +She could do what she liked and let Anthony take the consequences, or +she could take the consequences and do what she didn’t like. There did +not seem to be any other alternative. Her mind fixed suddenly on a +sufficient incident. There was something she could tell Anthony which +would be certain to send him away. She hadn’t immediately thought of it +because it had seemed trivial at the time, but it wasn’t trivial if she +looked at it in connection with Anthony, and she could make it worse +than it was. + +She shrank from proclaiming it because it unfortunately involved +somebody else, though he wasn’t very deeply involved. Kitty could manage +to make him appear almost innocent in comparison with herself, and, +fortunately, it never mattered that a man should be wholly innocent. + +Kitty gave a wicked chuckle as she saw in a sudden flash how it would +annoy the person involved. It would be the only amusing point in the +whole affair; and she was perhaps entitled to that much amusement; for +if he was annoyed, she would be ruined in Anthony’s eyes. + +Still, it really wouldn’t do just to mess Anthony’s life up for nothing. +It would be awfully dull and horrible sending him away, but it would be +more horrible to smash him up when he’d been awfully good to her. She +wasn’t going to like doing it, of course; she hadn’t liked quarreling +with him on the river. She hadn’t been prepared for that particular +quarrel, or she could have finished the whole thing then. Anthony had +taken her by surprise, and she had been so hurt that her wits had broken +down. She had stopped quarreling when she ought to have gone on. That +was what happened when you got accidentally hurt—it did not happen when +you meant to hurt yourself. You could keep your head then. + +As the light broadened out over the fields and ran like silver down the +little river, the pain in Kitty’s arm came on her like a toothache. It +was an extraordinary pain, dull at first and then as fierce as a blow, +and it seemed to hold Kitty so that she was like some thing shaken in an +iron vise. She could not move, and her breathing came uncomfortably, as +if it were being forced through a narrow space. + +The attack lasted longer than she had ever known it to last. The sun +came out and drank up all the shadows, and the little shapes of mist +that leaned over the water slipped into the willows; but the land was no +longer real to Kitty. It looked like some foreign country. She was being +held back by a dreadful iron grip, so that she could take no part in it. + +The pain dulled down at last, and broken and white-lipped, she struggled +to bed. She said to herself that she must do something about the pain +soon if it didn’t get any better. + +Then she fixed her mind on what she had better do to disenchant Anthony. +It was easier to Kitty to put off the thought of death than to put off +the thought of Anthony. + + + CHAPTER XVI + +Mrs. Arden was enjoying herself very much. She was sitting under a large +pink May-tree on the lawn, watching her children. + +Daphne was in a lounge-chair half asleep; Anthony, with Max at his feet, +was reading out loud emphatic modern poetry, which his mother could not +understand; Jim was mending a fishing-rod; and nobody seemed to be in +anybody else’s way. + +The two men were going to play tennis after tea despite its being +Sunday; but this did not really matter, as Mr. Arden was not there to +object. + +After thirty-five years of married life the moral law had sunk for Mrs. +Arden into the consideration of what would or what would not upset Mr. +Arden. It was an extremely happy marriage. Her husband was faithful, +tyrannical, and kind, and she gave way to him on every point except when +he interfered, as he sometimes did from the highest motives, with the +happiness of his children. Mrs. Arden always asserted that her husband +was the best judge of his children’s happiness, and spent her entire +life in altering his judgments to suit the children. She had no +intellectual ability, but she knew when children would rebel. + +“When you are older you will understand your dear father better,” she +often told them; but it had never occurred to her to think that when Mr. +Arden was older he would understand his children better. She knew he +never would. Mrs. Arden’s happiest hours were when she knew Mr. Arden +was safe doing something he liked and the children were nowhere near +him. She had never faced any problem that was not domestic, nor had she +ever met a human being of her own class who was not respectable. + +There had been a nervous flurry once over Tom and a musical-comedy star, +but it had all ended most satisfactorily. The musical-comedy star had +married a lord, and Tom had gone to India and killed a tiger. + +Mrs. Arden looked reflectively at Anthony. He was getting over his +imprisonment wonderfully well. His eyes no longer had that bright +flickering look of an animal endangered, and he had ceased to keep +himself in hand, as if what he was carrying would break if he forgot to +hold it carefully. + +Her tranquil eyes turned from their satisfaction in him to rest upon +Daphne. + +It was the hour of Daphne’s life when she was of most importance to the +universe. Her husband’s every thought and hope centered in her, and +nature had laid upon Daphne her greatest task and her supreme reward. + +Mrs. Arden knew what Daphne felt like. She remembered her own sensations +before the birth of Tom, her incredible deep content in the face of all +physical inconvenience, and Mr. Arden’s frightened tenderness. + +He had waited upon her hand and foot, as Jim waited upon Daphne now; his +thoughts had hung on her wishes. Mr. Arden’s thought hung on his own +wishes now, and he no longer waited upon his wife. She waited upon him +instead, without, however, making him at all conspicuous by it. Mr. +Arden liked to be thought a young man and to be treated with the +deference due to an old one. + +But Mrs. Arden did not look at the relinquished gifts of life with any +self-pity. She realized that as you grow older, you have less and suffer +more; but on the other hand you know how to suffer better, and you can +enjoy with a delightful escape from responsibility the experiences of +others. + +Mrs. Arden approved the arrangement of Providence by which you had the +prizes while you had the battles, and ceased to have the battles at the +moment when the prizes became unobtainable. + +It was a soft and peaceful afternoon. Anthony went on reading out loud, +with obvious enjoyment. The startling paradoxes of modern poets rang +harmlessly through the slumbering, flower-scented air. It was as if +nothing very dreadful had ever happened. + +Mrs. Arden sighed softly, because she never for an instant forgot Tom. +When she repeated in the creed that she believed in the resurrection of +the dead, she saw Tom in white flannels with his hat pulled forward over +his eyes, precisely as she saw Anthony now, except that Tom’s shoulders +were broader, and he was usually doing something useful with his hands. + +The garden gate clicked, and an extraordinary vision appeared upon the +lawn. It was Kitty, accompanied by Mr. Costrelle. Kitty wore the pink +Malmaison dress, with pale-pink stockings and remarkably smart black +suède shoes. She balanced a rose-pink parasol to perfection. + +Mr. Costrelle trailed indolently beside her, long, lean, white-faced, +without expression except for his pale eyes, which had a sharpened, +appraising look, as if he were on the look-out for a new possession, but +had no intention of being taken in by it. They approached the group +under the pink May-tree with friendliness, but they belonged to a +hostile tribe. + +Kitty moved swiftly across the lawn, kissed Daphne, who was half asleep +and taken unawares, perfunctorily; noticed Jim and Anthony with a little +lift of an eyebrow more perfunctory still, and turned her undivided +attention upon Mrs. Arden. + +“I’m Kitty Costrelle,” she announced, “and I know you’re Daphne’s +mother. I’ve wanted to meet you for ages.” She sank into a chair by Mrs. +Arden’s side and turned her shoulder upon the rest of the group. + +Mrs. Arden had a flurried sense that both her son-in-law and Anthony +wanted, for some unknown reason, to intervene, but they didn’t know how; +and Daphne, who did know how, found herself fully occupied by the fixed +attention of Mr. Costrelle. + +Mrs. Arden was not accustomed to the forward notice of very +smart-looking girls without shyness, who ignore the polite and cautious +responses of the provincial well bred. + +Jim and Anthony still made baffled efforts to enter into their +conversation, but Kitty relentlessly forced them out. Her vivid eyes, +her expressive gestures, were only for Mrs. Arden. + +Mrs. Arden was confused by these advances, but beneath her confusion she +was oddly aware of a feeling of compassion. She was shy and +inconspicuous and old, and quite incapable of facile friendliness; but +she felt as if this brilliant, effective girl was somehow at a +disadvantage. + +Kitty wasn’t as sure of herself as she pretended to be; she wasn’t as +sure of any one or anything as Mrs. Arden had all her life taken for +granted that people naturally were. Mrs. Arden had an ineffaceable +background, and Kitty had no background at all. + +Kitty, with all her air of easy conquests and perfect assurance, +fluttered there before them all, like a bird in a high wind, perched +upon a swinging bough. + +She talked very sensibly to Mrs. Arden about the country and the growth +of flowers; she referred sympathetically to Daphne, and asked Mrs. Arden +if she didn’t find her son wonderfully better. She seemed to have very +accurate information about the Ardens, and Pannell slipped in and out of +her sentences as if it had been a part of her own career; but Mrs. Arden +in return could not remember that Daphne had told her anything at all +about Kitty Costrelle. + +It was reassuring, however, to discover, since Anthony must have seen a +good deal of her, that Kitty wasn’t an actress. Mrs. Arden knew +Anthony’s temperament well, and she was aware that you could not have +put an actress out of his head by the insertion of a tiger. + +Kitty was still talking to her with the same flattering intimacy when +Anthony returned from an abortive set of tennis with Jim. + +“If you are interested in roses,” Mrs. Arden said to Kitty as Anthony +joined them, “you must come and see my little rose garden at Pannell. +Mustn’t she, dear?” + +Anthony’s and Kitty’s eyes met like flint. + +“I don’t think we’ve got very much to show her,” said Anthony, quietly. + +“I’ll come with all the pleasure in the world,” said Kitty, rising to +her feet. She looked past Anthony; the brightness of her eyes deepened +suddenly. She had done what she could with Mrs. Arden more or less +successfully, but all the power she had was in her eyes as she looked +past Anthony toward Jim Wynne. + +“Jim,” she said softly. + +Daphne looked up from her fencing with Mr. Costrelle. Her eyes darkened +suddenly; her words stumbled and broke off as if a wind had dispersed +them. Kitty’s slow smile deepened. + +“Jim,” she repeated, “I want one of those nectarines of yours, the jolly +warm ones you grow in your houses. D’you remember you used to call them +the apples of the Hesperides?” + +“Did I?” mumbled Jim. “The deuce of a silly name for them!” + +“I thought it a very pretty name,” said Kitty. “Of course I didn’t know +what it meant, but it sounded such an awfully nice place to get apples +from.” + +She slipped her hand familiarly on Jim’s arm, and without a word he +turned and followed her. + +Daphne gathered up her sentence again, but the peace of the summer +afternoon was gone. Only Mrs. Arden did not know what had happened. It +seemed to her much safer to see Kitty walk off with Jim than if she had +carried away Anthony. + +“That’s a very attractive girl, dear,” she said to her son, “but what a +curious thing none of you has ever happened to mention her to me before! +I think, if I were you, I should go into the house and get a little +shawl for Daphne. She shivered just now as if she had caught cold.” + + + CHAPTER XVII + +Jimmy was a good host, and he waited patiently while Kitty examined the +nectarines. There was not much to choose between the solid pink and +yellow globes hanging on the south wall of the greenhouse. The sun had +burned its own color into them; the air was warm and full of the heavy +scent of flowers and ferns producing artificially their precocious, +unseasonable life. + +Kitty took a long time choosing her nectarine. She was not quite sure +what line to take with Jimmy. He had the peculiar shutdown look of a man +whose nerves are being subjected to strain, and who has made up his mind +to keep all possible approaches to them closed. He was not thinking of +his greenhouse, and he wanted to get back to his wife. + +Kitty chose her fruit at last, and strolled in silence out into the +kitchen garden. There was a seat opposite a bed of pansies, on which she +sat down. The bright upturned faces of the pansies stared at the sun; +bees pushed their slow way above them to a cloud of feathery larkspur. +In the elms beyond the paddock the rooks were cawing their wrangling +pathway home to bed. + +Kitty took out a cigarette and looked up thoughtfully at Jimmy. + +“It’s rather nice for men,” she observed, “being able to be rude +comfortably. We can’t, you know; we have to put ourselves out and make +conversation and hold on to the appearance of things. I don’t know why, +but we do. If you were in my garden now, I should have to look pleasant +and find you a match. This dress has no pockets.” + +Jimmy handed her his box, reluctantly. + +“I don’t know,” he said, looking over her head. “I think I’m quite +polite enough; I brought you here.” + +“Of course I’m awfully grateful for that,” agreed Kitty, “though I’m not +at all sure whether you could help it. Your mother-in-law would have +been so surprised if you’d said: ‘Hanged if I give you a nectarine! Go +home, and be damned to you!’ By the by, are you afraid I’m going to make +love to you, Jimmy? You look rather like one of those old Johnnies who +thought they ought to resist visions and started to put the visions off +by making themselves look as disagreeable as possible. I never thought +it was a good plan, really; it must have put the visions on their +mettle.” + +“I don’t care whether you try or not,” said Jimmy, untruthfully. “It +doesn’t make the least odds to me what you think you’re doing.” + +Kitty laughed a little under her breath. + +“You’d sound safer if you weren’t so sure,” she murmured. “However, if +it’s any comfort to you, I’m _not_ going to make love to you. It would +take such a long time and be such an effort, and might not be worth it +even if I succeeded. I’m going to make you furious instead. You are +cross already, so it won’t be so much trouble. What do you say to my +marrying Tony? I’ve got a fancy for Pannell.” + +Jimmy tried to look as if he didn’t believe her; but his eyes ceased to +measure the new asparagus bed, and came back hurriedly to Kitty’s +upturned face. + +She looked as blandly innocent as the pansies at her feet. + +“Yes,” she said consideringly, “that would make me a kind of roundabout +sister-in-law to you, wouldn’t it? How would you like that?” + +“I shouldn’t like it at all,” said Jimmy, coldly; “but I’m not sure even +_that_ would be sufficient inducement to you to do it. Why do you want +Pannell, which you wouldn’t get in any case for many years? You aren’t +usually so mercenary.” + +“Nobody’s mercenary when they have enough money,” said Kitty, “but all +really careful people lay up a pear for their thirst. Pannell’s a nice +fat pear, and at present I’m intolerably short and by and by I shall +probably be thirsty.” + +“I’d rather give you two or three hundred,” said Jimmy after a pause. + +“Thanks,” said Kitty, puffing at her cigarette and watching his face +with obvious enjoyment. “But I don’t want a tip. I’d like something +solid in the funds, and I wouldn’t even mind a husband. This kind of +thing you know—” she waved her cigarette in the direction of the +low-browed house and the distant lawn—“rather brings up the subject of +family life in an attractive light. All husbands aren’t cross, and it +isn’t always Sunday.” + +“You can’t marry Anthony,” said Jimmy, doggedly. “If he knew what I know +about you, he wouldn’t do it, you see.” + +“But he doesn’t, you see,” mocked Kitty, with a malicious little laugh. + +“If you were to insist on marrying him,” said Jimmy, quietly, “I should +have to tell him.” + +Kitty blinked and screwed her wicked eyelashes together. + +“You’re a brave man, Jimmy,” she said, “but I shouldn’t advise it. If +you dot Tony’s i’s for him, I shall dot Daphne’s, and it isn’t the +moment I’d choose for Daphne’s.” + +Jimmy had been expecting this thrust. He took it outwardly coolly, but +inwardly he had only one conscious feeling—a desire to kill Kitty at +once and with his hands. He kept quite still; the murmuring low voices +of the bees and the far-off, distracted cawings of the rooks were the +only sounds in the world. + +Kitty read murder in his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. If there was a +moment in Kitty’s life that she really prized above all others it was +the instant when, sailing close up to the wind, she ran a perceptible +chance of being capsized by it. + +She had this moment now, it passed as suddenly as she faced it. Jim drew +a long breath, and put his hands in his pockets. + +“You could do that, of course,” he said carefully, “if you were cad +enough.” + +“Any one who tells is a cad,” said Kitty, calmly, “and we should both of +us have beautiful motives. At least yours would be beautiful, and mine +would be reasonable; it is always reasonable to pay back a hit if one +can. Still, I grant it would be better not to begin. You see, they both +know a certain amount already, and it wouldn’t be particularly +reassuring to know more.” + +“Rather than let Tony marry you, I’d tell them both—everything,” said +Jimmy, sternly. + +Kitty laughed out suddenly. + +“Here is Tony,” she said, rising to her feet. “I only wanted you to wait +here with me till he came after us. I don’t intend to marry him. As you +wouldn’t flirt, I had to think of something to amuse you to fill up the +time. + +“Hullo, Tony. Jimmy and I have been having such an awfully funny +talk—what they call in the newspapers ‘a grave moral issue.’ You’ll be +glad to hear Jimmy chose the truth—the whole truth and nothing but the +truth, in spite of the most fearful penalties attached to it. Only, as I +was pulling his leg all the time, there won’t be any penalties. You can +get off scot-free with your virtue, Jimmy.” + +Jimmy said something under his breath and turned to escape, but Kitty +checked him. + +“No, you don’t,” she said. “I’m going to make you feel perfectly +comfortable first by way of reward. Tony, he’s afraid you’ll marry me, +but you won’t, will you, when you know he’s been one of my lovers? I +told you once I tried to turn his head, but I didn’t tell you I _had_ +turned it.” + +Jimmy’s self-control left him. He swore savagely at Kitty, and at the +name he called her by Anthony sprang forward and struck him. + +Jimmy struck back, and for a minute or two Kitty watched them with +interested approval. She had seen men fight for her before and she had +never interfered. Then she saw that Anthony was getting the worst of it. +Jimmy was stronger and heavier, and he was, if anything, the angrier; +the weight of the anger he felt for Kitty got behind his mounting rage +with Anthony. He might have forgiven Anthony’s blow if it had been the +only one. + +Kitty deliberately shut down the rose-pink parasol and drove it between +the combatants. They started back for an instant, and in that instant +she had slipped between them, the broken sunshade in her hands. + +“Go to Daphne, Jim,” she said over her shoulder. “She may come along +here at any moment and see you. You don’t want to upset her; leave Tony +to me.” + +Jimmy obeyed her without looking at her. + +“You’d better sit down,” Kitty said to Anthony. Her eyes softened for a +moment as they rested on him. “You shouldn’t fight when you’re so out of +condition,” she added. + +Anthony shook his head vehemently. + +“Is what you said true?” he demanded. + +“Yes,” said Kitty, “it was true. That’s what annoys Jim so. Men are so +silly! What’s the use of being annoyed over ancient history? Besides, +he’s perfectly safe now; Daphne’ll look after him. Why don’t you sit +down?” + +“I’m afraid I’m silly, too,” said Anthony stiffly. “If what you said is +true, I can’t stand it either, Kitty.” + +Kitty nodded; she had not meant Anthony to stand it. + +“All right,” she said; “I told you before that it was better you should +go away. Thank you for trying to knock Jimmy down.” + +Anthony hesitated a moment. + +“Why did you tell me?” he asked her at last. “You needn’t have told me; +I would never have guessed it.” + +“I don’t know,” said Kitty; “I suppose I got bored and wanted to stir +things up. Everybody looks so comfortable here, all primed with tea and +the ten commandments. I just wanted to show that they aren’t as solid as +they look. Besides, Jim is really rather trying just now; he thinks +being happy is a virtue which he’s hit on for himself. I can’t stand +people who are righteous about their luck.” + +“I haven’t got that virtue,” said Anthony in a low, unsteady voice, “and +it’s me you’ve really hit, Kitty. Jimmy won’t care.” + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +“Oh, you’re just as bad,” she said without looking at him; “you belong +to the same lot, you’re one of the solid people. Nothing can really get +hold of you and break you up.” Her voice caught for a moment. “I wish +you’d go away. I hate the lot of you.” + +Anthony took a step toward her. For a moment he thought of her and not +of the pain she was causing him. It seemed to him as if Kitty was, +absurdly enough, the victim and not the destroyer; but there was no +yielding in Kitty to respond to his instinct. Her chin was up, and her +eyes, as hard as pebbles, met his unflinchingly. + +“Don’t you _see_,” she said fiercely, “that I’m simply _bored_ by you?” + +And Anthony, struck to the heart, believed that she was simply bored, +and left her. + + + CHAPTER XVIII + +Anthony’s hardly won control snapped like a broken twig; he turned from +Kitty, and walked quickly out into the road. His mind was held in the +suspension of shock. He neither knew where he was going nor considered +what he meant to do. He stumbled as he walked with his head bowed and +pushed forward as if he were tied to something he could not get rid of. + +There was a desperate urgency in his broken mind, like the urgency of +high fever; he knew there was something he mustn’t think about, some +dreadful image just beyond his conscious will which was prepared to leap +into his mind. Fear ran at his heels. It had neither face nor name, but +it pursued him like a shadow along the hot, white road. + +Motors overtook and passed him, people watched him from their garden +gates, and wondered at his crouched, absorbed figure hurrying past them. +He never turned his head through the small, chattering villages or on +the open road. Max followed him, foot-sore and perplexed, but +one-indeaed as Ruth. He knew that there was something strangely wrong +with his master, and he was determined that whatever was wrong or +strange, he would share it. + +Anthony had lost his self-consciousness; he ceased to be aware of his +own significance. Self-control and the governance of his mind dropped +away from him like unheeded, unessential things. He was a human being +hounded by an obscure emotion that he dared not face. Anthony ran from +it, but he was conscious as he ran that he could not escape it. There +would be a moment when exhaustion would catch him and force him to give +battle, and there was nothing left in him to fight with. His heart was +as empty as his mind. + +They were passing the entrance to a small orchard that lay fronting an +old farm-house when Max felt that they had gone far enough. He whined +suddenly and ran in front of Anthony, lifting a dusty paw, and fixing +his burning topaz eyes on Anthony’s face. He would go on if Anthony went +on, but he had made his protest. Anthony paused uncertainly, looking +about him at the unfamiliar road, the distant red-brick farm, and the +space of white blooms vivid against the evening light. He turned +stumblingly, and sank on the bank under the apple-blossoms. Max crept +beside him, pushing his head against his master’s chest. + +Dogs have only one way of showing sympathy with human beings; they offer +themselves up upon the altar of their master’s pain. Max pushed himself +relentlessly into Anthony’s suffering; he would not stay outside and be +safe. He would be a part of Anthony’s pain till the pain stopped. +Anthony felt the warmth reach his heart and was a little comforted. + +A late lark was still singing above the orchard trees, very high and +shrill in the clear evening air; the sun lay like a sea of fire across +the fields; every separate grass in the hedge stood up alive in it. + +[Illustration: _There was no curtain left between Anthony and his +pain._] + +There was no curtain left between Anthony and his pain. He saw its face +and eyes, and they were the face and eyes of Kitty. She had done an +incredible thing incredibly, like some fifth-rate girl in a café. It was +not only cruel; it was vulgar. She had said words that drew blood. They +disfigured Anthony’s love for her. + +He might have stood the fact, but not Kitty’s throwing it between the +two men to force on a fight; and for what other reason had she thrown +it? She was bored and light, and, like a bad little tune, her words ran +on in his mind and tortured him. They did not set him free—spiritually +Kitty was dead to him; but Kitty dead was Kitty accessible—the image of +her pulled him back like a strong cable. + +If this was what she was, why could he not take advantage of it, satisfy +the hard hunger that possessed him, and grant himself at least the +release of his strained senses? + +He told himself this was what love was worth. It was the master miracle +and cheat of life. Anthony had been let out of prison and confronted +with ecstasy, and ecstasy was a trap. He buried his face in his hands +and shut out the lark’s song and the intolerable world. + +If he went back, he had nothing to lose. Kitty had destroyed the +spiritual part of love. The man who did not take the actual and make the +best of it was a fool. + +It was better to be like an ordinary man, and pigeon-hole women: one +kind—Miss Mellicot, for instance—you marry and respect, and the other +you go wild over and spiritually ignore. Anthony had never believed this +method fair to women. He had not liked to think that any human being +should be treated without respect to his humanity; but perhaps the +judgment of the normal world was sound, and there were people—people +like Kitty—too light to touch even the honor in others. One did not let +them down by treating them at their own valuation because they were too +low to be let down. + +But one ought to be very sure of this condition. A memory stirred in +Anthony of how he had thought the same once of his fellow prisoners: he +had condemned them root and branch as fellows who had thrown away their +codes and were therefore worthless. + +Afterwards his condemnation had worn thin, he had found so many excuses, +the black clouds of their follies and their failures had been stripped +away like mists, and he had seen through the mists the havoc and +struggle of their souls, for even below their code something had +struggled in them. + +Anthony was not sure of Kitty. He thought of her skimming life like a +summer gnat above a pool, a light thing in the light air of her life, +without balance or stability; but he could not be certain that she, too, +had had no struggle. She had worked and suffered. For two years she had +helped to stem the tide of suffering in France when France was the +cockpit of the world, and she had shirked nothing. + +She did not shirk anything now, Anthony did not deny her pluck, and once +he had seen her cry. The memory of Kitty’s tears was a strange comfort +to Anthony. + +Love rose slowly in his heart and shook him; it would not let him be +driven back cheaply to a worthless Kitty, it would not let Kitty be +worthless. Love held him to her courage and her tears; it even involved +him in her disasters and suggested that if he had been wiser, kinder, +less full of the sense of what was due to the rules of his life—he +might have served her. + +Love did not seem to wish for a freed Anthony. + +His mind caught against a new point. Whatever Kitty was like, he needn’t +make her worse, he needn’t add humiliation to her. And it would be a new +humiliation if he went back to take her on her own terms; for she would +know that in doing so he despised her. She would let him despise her +because she would think it was only fair, but she would not like it, and +because she would not like it, he must not do it. He must let her at +least feel that the man who had respected her still respected her enough +to leave her alone. He tried to hold himself to this decision, but it +took the taste out of his life. + +He did not know now what to do. He realized that his body was exhausted +and wanted food, but he had no wish to fight this exhaustion. He would +have liked to crawl farther into the hedge and become invisible and part +of the earth. Max stirring in his arms roused him to his feet. He pushed +on heavily, with his face towards London. + +The apple-blossoms were spectral in the evening light; the sun fell +behind a group of flaming elms; for a long time the sky held a delicate +mauve color, fading into darkness. + +The endless houses of the suburbs began; they streamed past him with +long gaps of ugly, empty fields and half-built roads. He noticed nothing +but a sense of closing in and the merciful quieting of night. He did not +hurry any more. + +Pain had got up to him now and was no longer pursuing him, and pain had +a familiar face, there was no surprise in it. + +Beauty and joy had been the surprise and fear was the race to escape +losing them. Anthony had been overtaken and the race had gone against +him; but there was still pain and the mastery of pain. + +Anthony had been near enough to happiness to divine that there is no +such personal success as the success of joy. + +He realized that joy is the chief principle of life, and that without it +the Kingdom of Heaven must be entered maimed. Anthony ignored the +Kingdom of Heaven because he could not see it; but he could see, in +flashes, that he was maimed; and unconsciously he felt that the Kingdom +of Heaven was anything that lay beyond the fact of his maiming. + +Anthony tried to think about his work, but his mind beat relentlessly +against the thought of Kitty. + +His life had no value to himself without joy, but he could still serve +the community. If the world was hard, it was the more important for +those who had tasted the quality of hardness to set themselves towards +discovering possible alleviations for others. + +The success of the personal life was not the boundary of the human +spirit. + +Happiness serves life unconsciously and has chosen the better part, but +pain is the Martha who must busy herself about many things. Anthony was +like a drowning man clinging to a straw. He did not know that he was +drowning, but the thought of helping the world against pain was the +straw to which he clung. + +As the persistent streets closed in upon Anthony a strange feeling of +exhilaration stole across his senses. He had a lift of the mind, and was +possessed by that false sense of strength which comes on the verge of +complete exhaustion. + +He told himself that, after all, happiness was the only risk, and that +he had survived it. + + + CHAPTER XIX + +It was long past midnight, and London was as still as a mountain pass. +The lights rose up hard and straight out of the empty streets; the vast, +dim spaces of the squares retreated from them as if they were the points +of weapons. Every now and then a furtive loiterer passed Anthony, a +creature as shadowy and unsubstantial as a dream. Sleepy and stolid +policemen stood phlegmatically under occasional lamp posts, with their +backs turned away from the mysterious secrecy of the dark. The tall +houses were overpoweringly still, blank citadels of ease and security +which forced a sense of outlawry upon the passer-by. + +Anthony felt the sharp stir in him of a grudge against prosperity. It +suddenly seemed to him as if law and order held too many cards. All +humanity is at the mercy of certain casual blows, but how vast is the +difference between the people who can afford to place in front of +themselves the comfortable buffers of prosperity and those bleak +wanderers whom the blast strikes full without any protection! + +Anthony had learned as few men in his position had learned the grim +habit of privation; he knew the difference between those who command +conveniences and those who are commanded by inconvenience. He had been +without comfort, he had forfeited privacy, and become inured to rest +without ease. He knew that privations undermine you and unfit you for +higher pleasures, and that the little jar and spite of painful living +prevent in you the release of thought. He knew also that behind +privation stands tyranny, the blind possessor who strikes against +courage and freedom. + +Anthony held no theories about rich and poor, but his prison experience +had taught him that those without choice are captives. + +If you cannot change a job, or correct a misfit, or gain a right without +the risk of an appeal which may push you into an abyss, you are a +captive. + +Only men with margins can afford the courage of their convictions, and +unfortunately margins, while they produce courage, change convictions. +He remembered only by chance, because for the moment he had no money and +could not get a meal for Max, what it had been like to be without a +margin. + +He remembered good Germans who were kind to prisoners. Their kindnesses +were not worse than their brutalities, because nothing is worse than +brutality; but they were harder to bear. + +Anthony felt again the fierce shudder with which he used to meet their +victorious, satisfied eyes. He had found it harder than the others to +bear benevolence. Their captors had looked at the prisoners and pointed +out what was good for them; sometimes it was good for them, but the +prisoners had no choice. There is often a great deal to be said for the +safety of walls, but the weak go to them not because they like them, but +because the strong push them there. + +The big, fine houses of the West End looked down on Anthony +contemplatively; they seemed to be pointing out to him the rights of +their solidity. Anthony changed Max from one arm to the other; he was +near Henry’s flat. It was a pity to disturb Henry, but Max was plainly +exhausted. He lay like a springless log in Anthony’s arms, and now and +then whimpered to express his sense of the unseemliness of perpetual +tramping through the night. + +Anthony knew that he could find Henry’s flat—his mind had a bewildered +sense of the loss of other alternatives. He could not think of anywhere +else to go. But Henry’s flat stood out with a vivid, startling clearness +because he had come back to it out of prison—he knew that he could find +it in the dark. + +Anthony was not conscious of his own fatigue. He had walked twenty-five +miles between five o’clock in the afternoon and two o’clock in the +morning, but his mind was fresh and his thoughts ran through it as fast +as a stream runs with the leap of a waterfall behind it. + +Some of his thought ran backwards as the eddies of a stream run +backwards on to themselves. + +Henry’s flat was behind Buckingham Gate. He could see a microscopic view +of the Green Park from it and the open drilling space of the Guards. + +These were shadowed spaces now full of a held darkness. Henry had come +in late from an evening’s successful bridge, and he was preparing +himself for sleep by reading a pleasant, well-written story. He liked to +subside gradually from excitement to repose. + +The maids always went to bed regularly at eleven. Henry listened with +incredulity to the sharp tang of the bell. He opened the door and gazed +with polite annoyance at the dusty figure of his brother. + +“Really, Anthony,” he exclaimed, “what an extraordinary hour to call—in +flannels, too! And what have you in your arms? That Aberdeen?” Henry +invariably thought of dogs according to their species. “You know I +_never_ like dogs in my flat.” + +“He has got to have a light meal and a drink,” explained Anthony. “I’ve +walked him unmercifully—in fact, I’ve walked him from Rochett.” + +Henry said no more. He prided himself upon the way in which his mind +rose to face an emergency, especially by the manner in which, if +possible, he evaded finding out what the emergency was until it was +forced upon him. + +He led Anthony into the dining-room, and said in a hushed voice: + +“Above everything, we must not disturb the maids—that is the first +thing to be considered. I hardly know what there is to eat in the +house.” + +“Well, look in the larder,” said Anthony, a trifle bluntly. “I suppose +you know where your larder is? I do. I had a flat like this once. It +ought to be on the north side of the kitchen. I don’t want anything to +eat myself; I want only scraps for the dog, and something to drink. +Don’t give him too much at once.” + +“It is not easy to disinter food in the middle of the night,” objected +Henry, “even if I can find the larder. However, I’ll do what I can. Why +did you walk so far—in flannels? Has anything happened to any one?” +Henry meant, “Is any one dead?” but he never spoke of the dead except +collectively. + +Anthony said that every one was perfectly all right, and Henry left him. + +Anthony sank into a big arm-chair, and Max fell asleep instantly at his +feet on a soft lambswool rug. The room was full of light. It was just +what all the other big, inaccessible houses were like, so cruel outside, +so full of comfort and hospitality within. Anthony wondered what it +would look like smashed? Even this room, if you got up and broke +everything in it, might look uncomfortable. Anthony’s eyes took in all +the breakable things. He wasn’t going to touch anything, of course; but +he had an odd, excited desire in his mind to see the room in fragments, +broken down, and utterly in pieces, like some men’s lives, so that, no +matter what you did, you could not put them together again. It did not +seem quite fair to Anthony that outside things should remain safe and +whole. + +Henry came back on tiptoe with a plate of scraps for Max and a tin dish +full of water. Max woke instantly, thanked Anthony for the food with a +wag of his short, bushy tail, and ungratefully ignored Henry. + +Henry was a little surprised and annoyed with Anthony for drinking only +milk. He objected to his brother’s abstemiousness because, as he knew, +it did not come from principle. Henry felt that the only reason for +being moral was morality, and Anthony had no grasp whatever of morality. + +Henry had received disquieting accounts recently of Anthony’s behavior +from a friend who lived at Rochett. He had written discreetly to Daphne, +asking for details; but Daphne, although she was a married woman and +could have replied with sufficient directness quite nicely, had not +replied at all. + +Henry took a chair opposite Anthony and regarded him with tactful +vigilance. + +“I rather wonder,” he said guardedly, “what made you walk twenty-five +miles on Sunday night when you could have got up by the eight-thirty +this morning.” + +“I might have asked for a lift,” Anthony said consideringly, “earlier in +the night, perhaps, if I’d had any money; but I forgot to put change in +my pockets when I put on my tennis things, and then I started to walk. +Have you ever been without money, Henry?” + +“I’ve sometimes run it very fine,” Henry observed thoughtfully, “after a +race meeting, and of course during the war I was perpetually short.” + +“Short of everything?” Anthony strangely persisted. + +“Hardly, my dear fellow,” said Henry, with an indulgent smile, “or I +shouldn’t be here now, should I? Everything is a tall order.” + +“That’s what I keep wondering,” said Anthony in a low, uncertain voice. +“If one is short of everything, even hopes, what does one do? These +circumstances occur, you know, Henry. Have you ever thought what you +would do if everything failed, and there was no ground left to fight +on?” + +Henry shook his head reassuringly. + +“Those circumstances aren’t likely to come,” he answered. “Of course I +know what you mean. Men have bad times. I had an extremely unpleasant +one myself when you fellows went to France; it was no fun being kept out +of it, and people discussing why one didn’t go. I had hours of extreme +depression, but I pulled myself together and got over it. Depend upon +it, my dear fellow, making the best of things is a question of grit.” + +“Yes, yes,” said Anthony, impatiently; “but you must have the things to +make the best of. What I mean is, what happens when you reach the point +where nothing is savable? + +“I’ve been thinking as I came along about the down-and-outers, men who +are moneyless, without health, or without control, I don’t much mind +which—the people who have gone under. Death is so simple! You just go +out; but what happens when life goes on and everything else stops?” + +“Do you mean when you have no income?” inquired Henry, anxiously. “Has +anything happened to Pannell?” + +“Oh, nothing,” said Anthony, “nothing at all, has happened to anything. +I wasn’t thinking of us.” + +He leaned forward, and Henry noticed with uneasiness that Anthony’s eyes +moved and shone unceasingly. + +“Henry, I wish you’d tell me honestly—what do you believe?” + +Henry turned his eyes instantly on the carpet. He saw in a flash what +had happened. Poor old Anthony had religious mania. That was why he +drank milk instead of whisky, walked twenty-five miles on Sunday night, +and wouldn’t carry money about with him. This was what came of never +going to church: the pendulum—or was it the boomerang?—swung back, and +Anthony had been hit by it. Henry’s mind acted with promptitude and +decision. He would soothe Anthony and, as soon as he could, make an +excuse to leave the room, and telephone for a doctor. Fortunately, +Hilton Laurence, one of Anthony’s best friends, lived quite near. He had +a disagreeable, curt manner, but he could probably give Anthony a +sleeping-draft and not mention it to any one else. Henry cleared his +throat. + +“I am sure, my dear fellow,” he said with feeling, “that there is behind +the world a creative and guiding power making for righteousness.” + +There was no sound in the room except Max’s snoring. Anthony kept so +still that he might have been made of stone. He seemed to be holding +himself down in his chair with both his hands. Henry gathered confidence +from Anthony’s fixed quiet. + +“I don’t,” he continued gravely, “often probe into these questions—it +seems to me wiser for us to take things on trust—but I am confident +from my own experience—and I am sure, if you think it over, you will be +from yours—that we are guided and provided for all our lives.” + +“Was Belgium guided and provided for,” asked Anthony, suddenly, “or +children maimed in air raids, or outraged women? If you’d seen some of +the people I’ve seen in hospital, my dear fellow, you’d back down on a +kindly Providence. We’ve got to look at things differently, and not rake +up old mufflers out of the easier ages. What I want to know is, have you +ever thought about it? Do comfortable people think?” + +Anthony did not really care what Henry thought; he knew that Henry took +his ideas ready-made from leading articles out of conservative papers, +the opinions of other well-to-do people, and his momentary personal +convenience. Anthony doubted if Henry had ever had a naked thought +except once when he was nearly choked by a quinsy; but he wanted to +rouse Henry and also to talk himself. Thoughts ran through his brain as +fresh and fast as the swirl of water; he wanted to see them take form +and come out into the quiet room; he wanted to convince Henry of +tragedy. + +“What about other people?” he repeated. “You know the Serbians have had +all their manhood rotted by typhoid and blotted out by guns? You know +that men have been frightened out of their wits, and it takes an awful +lot to frighten men out of their wits, and all the broken-hearted old +people with nothing left to love till death takes them. Do you believe +they were created for their good, robbed for their good by +righteousness? And yet if there is no righteousness, one wonders why one +minds. Why do we think about it at all, but not go on our own greedy way +snatching at anything we like regardless of the sufferings of others? +Horses don’t care about other horses. They would face any shelled place, +the trained ones—wonderful beggars!—without turning a hair—they’d see +other horses struck in front of them, done in before their eyes, and +never budge: but let a piece of shell scratch their flanks, and you +couldn’t get them near the lines again, no good at all after a personal +hit. Men aren’t like that. We mind other people’s hits; some of us try +to stop them at a risk to ourselves. That’s what I can’t make out, this +something in us. Is hitting what we need to put us on to it? Are we +meant to keep down the guns as well as to suffer by them? And is God +just the same only on a larger scale, more hit, more determined to stop +what’s hitting us? The story of Calvary, for instance. Is it a kind of +queer, double-edged truth to show us that we and God with us are caught +in a trap of pain, and must voluntarily stick it out, even when we could +escape, to help the rest from going under?” + +“There is the love of God, of course,” said Henry, with one eye on the +door. “I quite appreciate that point.” + +“Yes, we’ve got to care,” Anthony agreed slowly; “that’s what I never +used to see. If you don’t care, you can’t help. You’re not a safe person +even, except, of course, to yourself. We’ve got to care enough to be +broken to pieces; because that’s what it comes to; you can’t help people +unless you’re being broken with them, you’re too far away.” + +“Self-control—” said Henry, going toward the fireplace and looking down +into it as if he had lost something. “A religion without self-control, +you know, wouldn’t _do_. That is the value of form in Christianity.” + +“We’ve tried that,” replied Anthony, impatiently. “Christianity which +distinctly said ‘the letter killeth’ is too hard for us; so we set up +churches and got out of it. We put the gold into the fire because it was +so difficult to obey a spiritual God, and there came out a calf, an +awfully clever golden calf, very convenient to worship, made up of all +the ornaments of the people. But what ought to have gone into the fire +was _us_! God went into it.” + +Henry shuddered. He disliked blasphemy. + +“If you’ll excuse me a minute,” he said, “I’ll just see if the spare +room is ready. You must want to go to bed. I’ll be back directly.” + +Henry came back humming cheerfully in the manner of those visitors to +the sick who wish to encourage the sufferer by the sight of their own +immunity. + +Henry had remembered everything; he had told Hilton Laurence, who +sounded extremely snappy at the other end of the telephone, to bring a +sleeping-draft. + +Anthony was sitting with his eyes shut. He did not speak until the +electric bell sounded; then he opened them with curious celerity and +remarked: + +“That’s probably the doctor you sent for just now. It’s too early for +the milk.” + +Henry jumped. He remembered the extreme cunning of madmen, and hurried +to the door. + +It was Hilton Laurence, and he said: + +“Well, where is he?” as if he didn’t want to hear Henry’s explanations. +However, he had to hear them while he was taking off his coat. Henry +explained in a hushed voice Anthony’s condition and his own inspired +tact. The last time he had left the room he had taken away the poker. + +Hilton Laurence showed no tact at all; he walked into the dining-room +noisily, shook hands with Anthony, and said: + +“Hullo, old chap! What’s the matter with you?” + +Anthony began to laugh. He laughed so hard that both the other men +standing one on each side of him appeared preternaturally grave, and the +graver they became the more wildly Anthony laughed. + +Hilton Laurence looked at Anthony from under heavy questioning eyebrows +and then looked away again, but he did nothing to stop him laughing. + +After awhile Anthony stopped himself with a jerk. + +“I’ve just discovered Henry thinks I’m mad,” he explained to Hilton +Laurence. “The funny part of it is, I’m not sure whether I am or not.” + +Hilton Laurence sat down on Henry’s chair and said: + +“You’d better go to bed, Mr. Arden, and leave your brother to me. He’ll +be all right. Let him sleep on in the morning.” + +“The door on the left is his room,” Henry explained carefully; “mine is +on the right, if you should want me.” + +Hilton Laurence nodded. When the two men were alone neither of them +spoke for a few moments, then Laurence said: + +“What’s up with you, old chap?” + +And Anthony, meeting his eyes, said quietly: + +“I have been riding for a fall, and I’ve got it.” + +“Some woman?” asked Laurence. + +Anthony nodded. + +Laurence said softly: + +“Damn women!” + +Anthony shook his head quickly. + +“No,” he said, “that hasn’t answered. It’s been tried already, you +know.” + +Hilton Laurence took out a small bottle. + +“Here’s a sleeping-draft,” he explained. “It’ll put her out of your head +for twenty-four hours; then you’d better come and see me. I’ve got a +good hospital under my care—brain and spine cases, result of +wounds—and I want another man to help me. How rusty have you got?” + +“The Germans let me look after our men and study some of their own +methods in hospital,” Anthony explained. “I’ve helped at some good +operations and I read a lot. I don’t think I did much less work than if +I’d been here; I’ll have to get used to the conditions, that’s all.” + +“Good,” said Hilton Laurence. “I dare say you can give me some tips. I +have some very obscure cases.” He got up and glanced at Anthony again. +“Well,” he observed, “that’s all there is for you, you know—work.” + +“I know,” Anthony agreed; “thanks awfully. I dare say I can work under +you. I couldn’t think how I should manage to get back into things. I had +what the Quakers call ‘a stop in my mind,’ quite literally a stop, +Hilton, and when you arrive at a stop you find a quantity of strange +impulses ready to get hold of you—vultures of the mind hovering about +on the off chance of a carcass, and there doesn’t seem anything handy to +keep them off. I was quite near going mad.” + +Hilton Laurence nodded. + +“Take a good long rest in bed,” he said, “and you’ll find your mind’s +all right. But you must keep away from the sore spot. That’s what work’s +for; work and—well, for some of us, you know, other women.” + +Anthony shook his head. “I know,” he said. “I’ve thought of that, too, +but it won’t do. There are no other women for me. I’ve never cared about +women like that.” + +“Ah, you’re romantic,” said Hilton Laurence, going to the door. “I can’t +cure romance.” + + + CHAPTER XX + +Nothing could have been less like Rochett than Number 27 Palace Court. +It was one of thirty large, red, solid houses overlooking one another. +It was sufficiently far from a main thoroughfare not to be noisy, and +sufficiently near never to taste, except in the small hours of the +morning, undiluted silence. It was a broad cul-de-sac of a street, +neither green nor untidy, upon which the sun struck without the +tenderness of shadows. In the summer it was full of hard, clear light, +and in the winter it seemed particularly open to gloom. + +The house looked as if every thought it had was born in London and had +never gone outside it except for the week-end. All the other houses were +the same; they employed the usual number of well-trained servants, and +enjoyed the same number of good meals and carefully kept habits. The +only difference between Number 27 and the others was that it had been +taken over by the Government as a receptacle for human pain and +helplessness. It was an officers’ hospital for cases which needed +recurrent surgical skill. + +Behind its solid face spun the slow, cruel hours of the fight between +life and death, the sometimes stagnant, but ever progressing, fight +between the courage of the mind, reinforced by skill, and the +helplessness of the broken body. + +It was a grim, persistent fight, shrouded in mystery. Sometimes skill +got the better of the mystery, and men who came there expecting never to +walk again went away cured and rejoicing; and more often mystery got the +better of skill, and hopes and efforts were alike baffled. + +The hospital was only one of Hilton Laurence’s many activities. He was +an eminent surgeon, with his hands full, and glad to leave the +unremunerative and more stationary work to Anthony. + +Anthony didn’t want money; he wanted work. He had no tastes; two ugly +rooms in a quiet street, with an occasional ill-cooked meal when he and +his landlady remembered it simultaneously, were all he asked for. He had +no expensive pursuits and no desire for expensive objects. He had a +nervous horror of society, and refused every invitation he received. + +Books contented him, and the only form of exercise he took was to walk +out of London down the North Road with Max at his heels after his work +on summer evenings. He walked straight out, sat in a hedge to smoke a +pipe, and returned. When the weather became too cold, he went into a +cottage for a cup of tea instead; but he never sought any companionship +beyond Max’s, and he disliked all attempts at conversation. + +Anthony did not realize that he was trying as far as possible to +reproduce his prison conditions; but it was, nevertheless, what his mind +fumbled toward. He wanted to feel about him the safety of inflexible +habit, set work, and an increasing inhibition. He wanted to close all +the avenues to his senses down which might come the haunting images +which racked his heart. He wanted not to remember, not to feel, not to +see. He felt that if he could only completely cut himself off from his +old conditions, he might be as marooned in London as on a desert island. + +It was easy to get rid of his family by the hedge of his work and the +reassurance of an occasional letter. He seldom saw Henry, who had been +severely discomposed by his own lack of judgment. He was, of course, +glad Anthony had not gone out of his mind, but at the same time he +disliked to think that he had been provided with all the materials for +thinking so without the event taking place. + +Hilton Laurence persisted from time to time in trying to draw Anthony +out of his packed solitude; but Anthony disliked his excellent, +well-chosen dinners, where men aired their theories of reconstruction, +and carefully avoided the subject upon which their lives were spent. All +talk which did not deal with the immediate became for Anthony a mere +cheating of the intelligence, a bite on empty air. He wanted to see +speech used only for the purpose of action. + +Thought was different. You must, he knew, accumulate thought in order to +provide the safe material for activity, but no after-dinner conversation +went very deeply into thought. London traveled more easily upon the +oiled surface of its hourly topics; and Anthony, who had got into the +habit of thinking a thing out till he hit against his last idea, was +often disconcertingly aware that people thought he ought to stop, and +that politeness forced you to leave your social foxes at some distance +from their holes. + +“You ought to be a Trappist,” Hilton Laurence said to him once; “you +have made a religion of silence.” + +The only exception Anthony made was that he talked to his patients; for +them he waived all his rules and inhibitions, he encouraged them to +speak off the point, because they did not know what the point was, and, +if confined to its preconceived direction, might miss it altogether. + +Anthony was peculiarly gentle and patient with his cases. He would +listen intently to the irrelevant, and no complaint ever escaped him. + +“It is just as important for a mind that manufactures complaints to get +rid of them by airing them,” he explained to Hilton Laurence, who +suggested shorter methods, “as for a real complaint to be looked into +and tackled; only the remedy in the first case is chiefly in the airing +of it. It is always worth while to listen to what people say if they +have anything wrong with them at all. Of course if their only ground is +to present themselves picturesquely, one might try a different method. +All introspection is selfish beyond a certain point, and all selfishness +increases the difficulty of breaking a habit. It is a curious point that +unselfishness is invariably bad for other people, and selfishness bad +for the person himself. One would like to know the moral, if any, a +bishop would draw from it.” + +“You may be sure he wouldn’t accept it if he couldn’t draw a moral from +it,” said Hilton Laurence. “But what method would you try with a case of +sheer nerves?” + +“I’ll tell you when I’ve found one,” replied Anthony. “At present I +don’t believe in sheer anything. I used to before I went to prison, and +when I was first there—the first six months—I believed then in sheer +misery; but other factors came in. There were curious, unexpected +let-ups.” + +“You must have had some odd experiences,” Hilton Laurence ventured +tentatively. Anthony had never talked to him of his imprisonment. + +“The most ordinary ones in the world,” Anthony answered dryly. “I learnt +how to bear what I couldn’t, and I got this out of it—that now I know I +can. The limit of human endurance is the limit of consciousness. When +you get to a certain point you turn or break; or, what is perhaps more +common, part of you breaks, and part of you turns. Life means you to +have this process gradually. That’s why, in general, old people are +weaker and wiser than the young; they don’t get their experiences all at +once. But in this war some of us got it quick, and we have to pay for it +slow.” + +Number 27 Palace Court absorbed Anthony. He had cases outside it, +private cases which came to him from his old practice or from the wide +circle of the Arden family, and others came from his singular successes; +but his life was the life of Number 27 Palace Court. He felt it move in +him like the double consciousness of domesticity. He never took any +obvious notice of the nurses, but nothing about them escaped him. If one +of them needed a holiday, Anthony saw that she got it; and if another +scamped her work, Anthony found out why, and if he couldn’t remove the +cause—and he often could remove the cause—he removed the nurse. He +rather disliked the capable and unattractive matron, who seemed to rely +more than the unattractive should upon the exhibition of her capacities; +but he saw that her rule was in the main just, good for the patients, +and bringing out, with occasional flares, the best qualities of the +nurses, and he knew that justice, even a rough-tongued justice, is too +valuable a quality to pass over. When Hilton Laurence said: “I can’t +stand that matron; let’s get rid of her. Women were meant to please, and +she wouldn’t please an iron door-scraper,” Anthony bluntly refused. + +“I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t see that women were any more meant +to please than men. When they do, they often do it to get out of other +things. Matron knows her job; we’ve never had a scandal here, or lost a +case through carelessness. You don’t want a woman you can fall in love +with for a matron; you want a woman you can’t.” + +Hilton Laurence looked rueful, but he agreed. + +“I’m not at all sure _you_ can’t fall in love with her,” he said rather +crossly. “You’re both made of cast-iron. The sisters are quite pretty, +and I don’t believe you’ve looked at them!” + +But Anthony had looked at them. He knew every detail of their work, and +he had watched their absorbed complete self-consciousness, to which +their daily life was a mere subsidiary fact. They were women long before +they were nurses. + +Anthony studied the Irish Roman Catholic sister, whose gay and joking +exterior hid a determined unselfishness; he knew she would appear +careless of details and be safe to leave patients with; he couldn’t +trust her memory, but he felt certain of her punctual heart. She was one +of the race of mother-women to whom all objects of care are more +precious than their lives. + +On the other hand, he deeply disliked a smart and neat-handed young +woman whose interest centered in her own attractions, and who would +sacrifice a patient’s comfort for a moment’s self-indulgence. + +A flirtatious night sister once made an emergency call an opportunity +for a determined attempt upon Anthony’s affections, but she did not do +it again. He stared at her out of strange, gray eyes with ironic +curiosity. + +“I wonder why you are doing this kind of thing,” he said on the landing +in his low, clear voice; “you do it very badly. I should strongly advise +you to return to your duties.” + +It was the first time that Anthony had realized that the nurses were of +the same species as Kitty. It came over him as he looked at the confused +and irate night sister how differently Kitty would have taken his +question, and how in the end she would have triumphed over him. He could +never have said that Kitty played the game of sex badly; she played it +so well that half the time Anthony had never been aware that she played +it at all. + +Now he was aware. Every sense he had ached for her and demanded her +perpetual stimulus. He was like a man athirst in a desert of sand; he +could drug his brain with work, but at night his body and his heart beat +out their revenge upon him; and this silly woman, with her unready +eagerness for his attention, forced back his torture straight upon him. + +He wondered, as he left her, if he had blamed her too sharply. Perhaps +her desire to win his admiration had been aroused by the obstinate +longing for another woman in himself. The invisible traffic between mind +and mind is full of misleading messages. The night nurse hated him from +that moment, but all the nurses preferred Hilton Laurence; he was less +polite, much less considerate, and far more approachable. + +It was the patients who wanted Anthony. There was something in his +spare, tall figure, a little bent, in his grizzled hair and young gray +eyes, which filled them with confidence and hope. He was young enough to +inspire them, and old enough to reassure them by his steadiness, and +they knew he cared. + +They felt he was there for them, not for success or experience or money, +not merely as a doctor, but as a personality. He would never let +anything interfere between their cure and his efforts, nor would he give +up helping them when help seemed useless. + +The purpose of his being was to relieve pain, and in the depths of his +quiet eyes was the full knowledge of it. He had that understanding of +suffering, complete and without shrinking, which few doctors possess. He +did not want, as Hilton Laurence did, to rush in with his health, his +skill, and his brisk cheerfulness, and then get out again as soon as +possible, forgetting. + +Laurence’s “cut and come again” attitude frightened the weak and gave no +encouragement to men who had been slowly undermined by recurrent pain. +They could not believe in quick or cheap escapes. + +Anthony offered them none; he never deluded them or hurried from them. +If there was nothing he could do, he listened carefully to what they had +to bear; the most he ever said was, “I think this trouble will improve +in time,” or, “I hope this may help you a little,” and when he said +this, improvement and help always followed, and renewed the smoking flax +of hope. + +He succeeded in persuading men to make efforts who had given up the +attempt in despair, because they saw that he had personal dealings with +despair. + +“You see,” Anthony explained, “it is always worth while trying, because +no one knows the exact place where courage takes over from failure, and +it is a pity to stop at failure if one can help it. Miracles are merely +getting the hang of a thing suddenly that you’ve tried at deliberately +till you’re sick of it; you’ve got to help yourself just as far as you +can before anything else helps you, and few of us know how far we can +till we try.” + +“It’s much easier,” he explained to another man suffering from general +debility after a severe wound, “to get over a bad time than to get over +having had one. That’s your trouble now. The bad time is finished, but +it took half of you to get through it; you’ve got to win that half back. +It will be quicker if you keep reminding yourself that you really _are_ +on the right side of things, though of course it won’t be easy. You must +go on calling the other half of you back.” + +But if his patience was endless with the weak, he was sharp with those +who did forbidden things from bravado. Anthony had always despised the +false courage which wants to be admired; it cloaked too clearly an +invisible cowardice. + +“Don’t think you are showing courage,” he would assert to a man who had +disobeyed a restriction. “Courage is the patient handling of danger; it +is not the foolish manufacturing of it for purposes of showing off. No +one in a busy hospital is going to admire a fool. We should deeply +regret it if we threw away your case by our carelessness, but no one is +going to mind your throwing it away by your own.” + +Anthony took endless trouble to divert his patients’ minds; he never +rested till he found some taste or hobby which he could encourage. +Nothing in the hospital was allowed to prevent a man’s carving out a +healthy interest. + +Hilton Laurence was often surprised, and the matron frequently irate, at +Anthony’s waiving of the rules to suit the oddest occupations. + +“In a short case,” he explained to Hilton Laurence, “you can concentrate +on the disease, and one needs only to know enough of a man’s mind to +keep his nerves quiet and his common sense uppermost; but in a long case +you _must_ know your man, and get him an object—virtually _any_ object +outside of himself—to hook on to. Any invalid’s attention gets +concentrated on discomfort and sensation, and the longer the case is, +the more water-logged and self-centered the mind gets. You’ve got to +fill it, if it’s only for half an hour a day, and never mind on +what—comic songs, theosophy, tall stories, well-cooked food, the study +of the Welsh language, or a music-hall star. Look at that jockey you +handed over to me a month ago. I couldn’t think what to do with him, he +seemed such a stuck case; all that septic business, going on so long, +had just rotted him to pieces. Actually, the mischief had stopped, but I +couldn’t start him up. He’d been ill too long. I wrote to my father to +unearth some old racing papers I knew my brother Tom had kept for years, +and the man lighted up immediately. Sister got him an album, and I found +him sitting up in bed, a thing he assured me he would never do again, +pasting in different records of horses as fast as he could go. Then we +started getting a sporting editor to visit him and keep him up in what +was going on now, and it’s astonishing to see the change in him. He’s +sleeping and eating and getting quite a healthy color back, and all +because he’s succeeded in finding something that interests him more than +his own inside. + +“All these long cases need humoring; they are beyond drugs and knives. +We doctors have got to learn how to give them desires.” + +“Desires,” murmured Hilton Laurence. “Well, I dare say you’re right. +I’ve often acted on that theory without analyzing it.” He hesitated for +a moment, then he risked, “Come to think of it, I did it in your own. +You know, my dear fellow, six months ago, when I blew in to Henry’s +flat, you were as near going bang off your head as any fellow I ever +saw. I wondered how I dared trust you in an operating theater with the +instruments.” + +“I’d have been much more dangerous without them,” agreed Anthony. +“Things you are accustomed to handle give you sanity straighter than +ideas. I once knew a pianist who was so drunk before his performance he +couldn’t walk across the stage. The manager asked him how on earth he +was going to play? And he said, ‘Just get me to the piano somehow; it’ll +take care of me.’ They put him on the music-stool before the curtain +rose, and he played divinely. No one guessed why he didn’t get up to bow +afterward.” + +“Do you think your piano has cured you?” asked Laurence, curiously. + +Anthony looked at him steadily for a moment, then he turned away. + +“The man was still drunk,” he observed, “after he’d finished playing.” + + + CHAPTER XXI + +Cheerfulness was the predominant note of the two long wards in No. 27 +Palace Court. They were first floor rooms, formerly stately London +drawing-rooms, leading into each other. One room had long, bulging +windows looking over the short, broad street toward the high, red houses +opposite, and the other large, straight windows which overlooked a +small, open plot, a brown tank, and a tree. The room itself was divided +by its small beds and enlarged by its shining, carpetless floor. A glass +case by the door held beautifully polished sterilizing instruments. It +was the only sign of the office of the place. A large center table was +covered with well-arranged flowers. By each man’s bedside was a +convenient locker with room for more flowers. There were no curtains, no +pictures, nothing but the friendly monotony of whitewashed walls. + +Charming printed-cotton counterpanes covered the small beds, and in the +beds were the broken men. The nurses moved in and out, young, starched, +and brimming over with their helpful activity. They were always there +when they were wanted, and their stereotyped smiles and jokes were as +unfailing as the cleanliness of the polished instruments; but the men +were, nevertheless, alone, under the mask of their cheerfulness. + +Visitors came in from outside; they brought the breath of the big, +bustling world with them, and sometimes they brought its fatigue. They +seldom knew how to talk to the patients. Either the sight of pain and +helplessness reminded them of street accidents and doleful emergencies, +which they promptly related, or they felt they must rouse their old +friends to what was going on in their own full lives; so they poured out +the wash of their easy cheerfulness across a sea of pain. + +The tired and weakened minds of the patients gathered themselves +together for the effort of attention. Very few visitors realized that in +the presence of weakness personal strength should be used only to +reinforce it along the lines of least resistance; and that those who are +suffering pain are more vulnerable to accounts of pain than they can +very well bear. + +Anthony knew these points from memory. He knew how to slip a pillow +under a tired head so as to give it the precise angle of fresh +restfulness and in just the same way he had learned how to slip the +subject a man wanted under his drifting mind. It was part of his +treatment to spend hours in the hospital. It upset the nurses and +curtailed their jokes, but after a time they got used to him. He was +very silent, and came in and out like a shadow drawn by some instinct +toward the men who needed him most. + +Of the three types of cases in the little hospital, one was of those who +were nearing the point where they would have to be pronounced hopeless. +When this was reached, they would be moved to a big hospital for +incurables, or, if they preferred it, they could be returned to their +own homes. + +The mind of science—all that it already knew, and all that its patient +skill was fumbling toward—would be switched off them; there would be +nothing more to be done. Whenever they saw a doctor in the wards their +eyes grew into the question: “Has the time come? Are we finished?” + +The doctor or the matron always told them as if a pleasant change lay +before them, and the men wanted to be ready to take the joke in the +right spirit. They knew that when that change came there would be no +more changes. + +Hilton Laurence never dealt with the hopeless cases. He left them to +Anthony. They were not operatable, and he frankly confessed that he +didn’t know what to say to them. + +He could, he explained, tell a man he was going to die as well as any +one, but he hadn’t the nerve to tell him he was going on dying. He left +that to Anthony. Anthony accepted his patients in a different spirit; he +sat with them every day, and when he was not with them, his mind was +seldom off them. He was determined they should have a future. His mind +twisted this way and that against the teeth of their cages. + +Whatever was left of them Anthony found a use for. He never let one +physically hopeless case leave No. 27 without something he could do +before him. Each patient cost him sleepless nights and endless +watchfulness; his own life became sucked up in their problems, but he +grudged nothing that he gave. He knew that death was far less terrible +and far less an enemy than despair. + +The second set of cases were those for which there was some hope, but in +which the symptoms had continued so long as to obscure it. The patients +might win through to approximate recovery if the men themselves could +grasp it or were not too tired to wish to grasp it. + +These cases were the most difficult of all, because unless the will was +arrested and brought into action, they would probably sink into the same +class as the incurable. They had to be made to believe that they were +getting better and at the same time stimulated to want it. + +Their symptoms had already obtained a fascination for them; they longed +to be left in the little effortless circle of their pain and weakness. +Suffering was their world; it was no longer acute, and their strength +had sunk below the line of any desire to escape it. They only wanted +their condition to be acknowledged and to be left alone with it. + +Anthony was endlessly patient with them. He found out what their old +tastes had been before their symptoms blotted out their significance, +and he worked down to them as a careful excavator works down to a buried +marble. He was never in a hurry and he never struck too hard. + +The third class of cases were the happy ones. An acute observer would +have known them as he entered the wards. Their eyes were alive, and the +look in their faces was resolute. They knew they were getting better and +that they were contributing towards their own recovery. They often had +to suffer intense pain, but beyond it was an horizon; they had not sunk +below the level of personal fight. + +Anthony found them a great help, because he set them in his mind as the +models for the others. He learned from watching them what could be +expected of the coöperative spirit, once you had found and roused it. + +“Science can do a great deal,” Anthony observed to Hilton Laurence, “but +if we get faith on top of it, it can do almost anything. The trouble is +that scientific men aren’t taught to handle faith, and generally the +faith-healing people are set against science; so we do our job about as +well as a team of pulling horses.” + +“The invisible isn’t our job,” said Hilton Laurence, impatiently, “and +most people’s faith is nonsense.” + +Anthony shook his head. + +“I don’t think it is,” he said reflectively. “I think most people’s +faith is courage; only we haven’t enough of it.” + +Hilton Laurence looked suspiciously at his partner. He was sometimes +afraid that Anthony was becoming a crank. Laurence was enough of a +scientist to know that you must keep your eyes open for a new theory, +but he wished to see a new theory produced on an old line. Cranks are +people who want new lines. However, perhaps all Anthony needed was a +holiday. + +Hilton Laurence met Henry the next day by chance at a street corner. + +“Your brother,” he said, “ought to go out more. Why don’t you take him +to a music hall? Try ‘Yellow Slippers.’” + +Henry had not seen Anthony for months. He had made several suggestions, +but Anthony had always got out of them or asked Henry to meet him at +hours and places that Henry thought unsuitable. + +Henry urged “Yellow Slippers” over the telephone. Anthony replied that +he would certainly dine with Henry, but he hated music halls. + +Henry, however, convinced him that he must tolerate the revue because +Anthony had, after all, tolerated nothing convivial for ages, and it was +Henry’s idea of being with him. It didn’t occur to Henry as possible +simply to dine with one’s brother and have the rest of the evening +suspended in front of one. + +“It’s not as if you played bridge,” he reminded Anthony, reproachfully. + +They went to “Yellow Slippers,” and it was exactly what Anthony had +thought it would be—one good song, several pretty dresses, boredom, +noise, and very unanimating coarseness. Between the acts they walked up +and down the promenade, and saw the over-dressed, over-painted, +under-vitalized habitués. Henry knew who they all were, if they were at +all well-known, but he was very careful not to do more than point them +out to Anthony. + +“We don’t want to get mixed up with any of them,” he explained. “At the +same time, one can’t go about with one’s eyes shut.” + +It reminded Anthony of a circus, but he didn’t say so—heat and dust and +glare, and creatures held to be tame that ought to have been free to be +wild. The wildness that he saw occasionally flicker up through the slow +evening was not enough to tear down one of the bars. + +The promenade was not, as it would once have been to Anthony, a boring +or a disgusting sight. It shook him with pity. He knew now what these +men and women wanted: they were seeking for the chief stimulant of life. +The younger people had in their eager search the quality of freshness; +they sought for this vivid stimulant with more uncertainty. Sex still +had for them the survival of the unexpected. They looked for it in the +wrong place, because out of this glare and noise, with its promiscuous +expanse of professional charm, they could get only the least from their +desires. They were throwing away quality for the sake of experience. + +But for the older people there was a deeper pity, with a sharper +penalty. They knew precisely what they wanted; there was no mystery to +uplift and disguise desire for them, and no escape into the unexpected. +What they had had many times and with zest they wanted to have again +with a flickering satiety. They wanted it less, and yet they wanted it +with a sharper edge of eagerness than the young. They knew that they had +only a short time, and there was nothing else that they wanted to do +with it. Anthony watched them without condemnation; he, too, shared +their sense of frustration. Experience which had shut them in had shut +him out; he saw no reason for any superiority. There was something in +them which they had wasted until it had lost its significance, and there +was something in himself which for lack of use had no longer any +significance at all. + +“There,” said Henry, with a note of explanatory patronage, “is quite a +different type—a woman with style. I am very much mistaken if she is +not a woman of the world. One notices these differences at once if one +has the observer’s eye. I dare say she has no more virtue than a +professional cocotte, but she knows how to carry her head. She’d pass +anywhere for any one.” + +Anthony turned his head to follow Henry’s eyes. + +“All these types are alike to me,” he began; then he stopped abruptly, +for the words were no longer true. The girl leaning over the balustrade +was Kitty. + +Whatever Kitty was there for, even if she didn’t particularly want it, +was already in her hands. She had an air of complete detachment and +immunity. As she turned her gaze slowly back to the promenade her eyes +met Anthony’s. She still smiled indolently, but in her eyes there +flashed a sudden signal of appeal. + +She looked at Anthony for a moment as his worst patients looked at him +when he came into the ward and their eyes searched him to read their +hopeless fate. + +Then as he hurried quickly toward her, she gave her old careless laugh. + +“Hello, Tony,” she said. “You’re as unexpected as an archbishop. I +should never have thought ‘Yellow Slippers’ was your kind of form. You +must be going down in the world just as I’m climbing up!” + +She made no introduction to the man beside her; there was of course a +man beside her, a tall, weedy youth with a single eyeglass. Kitty turned +her shoulder toward him, and said over it, “Go and get me a box of +chocolates; you know the kind I like.” Then she waited till he had +disappeared. Anthony noticed with a sharp pang of dismay that Kitty had +changed. Her face and wrists were curiously thin, and there were hollows +under her unquiet eyes; but her smile was the same, and she looked him +up and down in a whimsical, unhurried friendliness. + +“It’s awfully nice to see you,” she said, “once in a way, you know, +after six months. Is that your brother Henry? He’s like you, only he’s +much tidier—tidier in his nature, I mean, as well as in his lovely +white waistcoat. He’ll burst with curiosity, trying to pretend he +doesn’t want to hear what we’re saying. Why don’t you bring him over and +introduce him to me? I couldn’t do him any harm, you know; I’m sure he +takes far too much care of himself to run any risk. I suppose I’m a +risk, aren’t I? I can’t say _you_ look particularly nice, Tony. Your +eyes are cross, and your hair’s too long, and your dress-suit is +shocking. It looks as if you wear it only once a year to dine with the +lord mayor. I expect you keep it the rest of the time under a pile of +medical dictionaries, don’t you? I do like a man to be smart.” + +“I’m not going to waste time introducing you to Henry,” said Anthony, +quickly, “but I’ve got to see you properly myself. Where are you +staying? Here’s your confounded ass with the chocolates.” + +“He has fifteen thousand pounds a year, so he tells me,” said Kitty; “so +he can afford to be silly. You can’t, you know, Tony. I shouldn’t bother +about my address if I were you.” + +“You’ve got to tell me,” said Anthony, stubbornly. Kitty’s eyebrows went +up. “I mean,” he entreated, “you might let me know, Kitty. This isn’t +seeing you, if you were honest when you said you were glad.” + +The young man reached them and looked haughtily at Anthony. + +Kitty held out her hand for the chocolates. + +“Yes,” she said reflectively, “these are the kind I eat, only I don’t +feel like them now.” + +She raised her eyes to Anthony. + +“I’ve taken a flat with Peckham,” she said, “a horrid little hole; but +I’ve let the farm. You can come and see me to-morrow if you like, at +four o’clock—6 Trevor Road, Kensington. Fancy Kensington! It sounds +like mothers’ meetings and socks for the poor, doesn’t it? But you won’t +meet any mothers at Trevor Road. Good-by, Tony.” + +Anthony turned reluctantly away from her. He was aware of Henry’s tact +in the distance, strained almost to breaking-point by his curiosity, but +Anthony brushed it ruthlessly aside. Henry’s tact meant nothing to him; +he must get away now, get away at once before his self-control broke +like glass. Anthony felt as breakable as glass, and as transparent, +before Henry’s searching eyes. He realized suddenly that he had, after +all, been thinking about Kitty for six months. He had never left a +moment unemployed, but behind the employment, behind the fixity of his +outer mind, had lain inexorably, almost unconsciously, the central +thought of Kitty; and now that he had seen her face to face, his +thinking was no longer unconscious. It pervaded the visible universe. + +“I’ve got to get out,” he said brusquely to Henry. + +“Oh, all right, all right,” said Henry, soothingly. “But for Heaven’s +sake, old fellow, don’t _look_ as if you’d got to! The building is not +on fire.” + +“Isn’t it?” murmured Anthony, dryly, as he turned away. “I have a kind +of impression that it is.” + + + CHAPTER XXII + +The very fact that Anthony had fought with the image of Kitty for months +undermined his resistance to her; the sight of her set him ablaze, and +there was nothing left in him which could put out the fire. He turned +his eyes from her only because she possessed the universe. As long as he +was sure of her presence, he could go on behaving as if she were not +there; but from the moment the big door swung behind him and his sight +was robbed of her, he lost all other consciousness. + +It was a cold, raw evening in December, unhappy flakes of snow fell +without direction or intent, and changed instantly to moisture on the +pavement. Henry acquired a taxi with precision. He said something about +skidding and something about the evening having been a pleasant one, and +he was prepared to share the comfort of the taxi with Anthony; but +Anthony shook his head. He stood there ambiguously without offering to +give the taxi driver Henry’s address. Henry gave it himself, finally, +and dissolved like the uneasy snow, leaving Anthony to the wet streets +and his persistent phantom. + +Everything held Kitty, each darkened window, each hard bright light, +each flying taxi. Anthony saw over and over again her thin wrists and +hands, the hollows under her eyes, the mocking spirit of her laughter. +What did it cover? What dreadful thing was Kitty hiding? What had +attacked and eaten away her youth? + +The physical aspect of her dimmed all other questions; he did not ask +himself who the man was she had with her, or why she was in London. +Sickeningly and with increasing pressure fear and memory rushed over +Anthony. He saw the apple-orchards in June, he remembered how the +buttercup-fields sailed toward him on their sea of gold, but fear was in +every image of that returning spring. His heart beat uneasily under the +vision of beauty. + +All these things were Kitty. She had the mastery of the green hills and +open skies. She was the breath of meadow sweet and the songs of birds; +he saw again the innocent, reckless Kitty of his dreams. But why was she +so changed and thin—what haunted her gay eyes and shadowed her soft +lines and delicate curves? She was like a spring on which a blight has +fallen. + +When Anthony reached his empty rooms he walked to and fro till the late +winter morning sent its unlovely, muffled light into the room; then he +lay down on his bed without undressing. Sleep caught him and flung him +like an enemy. + +When he awoke it was late, and he could hurry through the early details +of his day and let the hurry blind him. Anthony was only aware of an +intense uneasiness awaiting him. He had to take a minor bone operation +at the hospital for Hilton Laurence. It was a tedious, ticklish small +operation on which Anthony could force his mind; he did not let himself +think of anything beyond it. The usual instruments, the heavy net of the +ether fumes filling the theater, came down like a shelter between him +and his stalking fear. + +After the operation he went the round of his wards, but here the sense +of emergency died out and refused to support him. + +The patients felt the quality of Anthony’s attention was different; +there was no strength in it. He looked at them, listened and commented +on what they told him, but the force he used on them and for them was no +longer there. It was reserving itself for an unknown ordeal; they could +not touch it. + +Anthony stopped to look at his bone case, slowly coming back to +consciousness from the world into which the ether had mercifully plunged +him. The white, inexpressive face on the pillow, with drugged, blank +eyes, roused in him a sense of envy. This man could get through his +worst moments buried in unconsciousness. Anthony was alive and aware as +a man tied to a stake and facing flame is aware. + +He prolonged his work till the late afternoon, and then hurried with a +desperate sense of frustration toward Trevor Road. It was an unexpected +small road lying between two main thoroughfares, a small, unmeaning +little byway of low, fawn-colored houses. + +The street was respectable, but dingy; it seemed planted there without +intention, and it was difficult to imagine Kitty in any place so +unobtrusive and so without the forms of life. + +Peckham opened the door to Anthony, and Peckham, too, was changed. Her +face was older and smaller than Anthony remembered it. She had faded, +and become uncertain of herself. Her standards of life had fought with +her love for Kitty. Love had, in the end, triumphed, but at the expense +of Peckham’s solidity; she could go on serving Kitty without believing +in her, but there was less of Peckham left to serve. + +She was glad to see Anthony, but her eyes told him that though she would +rather see him than any one else, he had come too late to save her +ruined standards. + +She said a little dryly: + +“It’s a long time, sir, since we’ve seen you. You’ll find Miss Kitty +up-stairs; she has the front room on the right.” + +Kitty had the most expensive spot in the inexpensive house. There were +more windows and heavier curtains in her room than in any of the others, +and it was filled with larger pieces of insignificant furniture. +Massive, curious-headed chrysanthemums bloomed oddly in hideous vases, +and a box of chocolates lay unopen on the table. + +There was a fog outside, and some of it had crept into the overloaded +little room and given it an air of mystery. Kitty was sitting over the +fire, crouched on a large blue-velvet footstool. + +Her small, white face had a look of stubborn suffering. She glanced +unsmilingly at Anthony over her shoulder. + +“You’ve come, then,” she said; “you’d have been more sensible not to. +It’s such a boring day! I don’t say I wouldn’t be pleased to see the +Angel Gabriel walk in with his last trump. It would be some kind of +sensation, anyhow. I’ve always thought the day after the judgment would +be rather fun. It’ll be such a joke rubbing it into the other goats that +they’re in the same box as you. There are sure to be some pious ones who +thought they’d get off cheap and leave you to the burning. + +“What do you think of my new quarters? Third-class lodgings rather +remind one of hell, don’t they?” She waved her hand in the direction of +the spotty, leaden oil paintings on the walls. “It’s not very amusing, +is it?” + +“You’ll have to tell me why you’re here before I can say whether it’s +amusing or not,” said Anthony, carefully. “People’s idea of amusement +differ. I didn’t find ‘Yellow Slippers’ entertaining last night, for +instance.” + +“It was better than the alternative, anyhow,” said Kitty, defensively. +“Fancy being shut up with these spiky book-cases and blue roses all the +evening! Personally, I consider my present surroundings a certificate of +my respectability. Poor old Peckham! You might tell her it strikes you +like that; it would please her. I shouldn’t stay in a place like this if +I were going in for gilded rapture, should I? + +“The truth is, I’m stony broke. I’ve forgotten all about the two ends +somebody or other tries to make meet. I haven’t even got one; and if I +had, I’d sell it for twopence.” + +Anthony’s eyes rested on Kitty’s jeweled fingers and on her barbaric +dress of wallflower and old gold. + +“Well,” he said, “you ought to see your way to twopence.” + +“That’s clever of you,” she said approvingly. “Any one else would have +offered me fifty pounds, and I should have no use whatever for fifty +pounds. What I want is five thousand a year and no questions asked.” + +“Even that,” said Anthony, “you might get if you put your mind to it.” + +“Not without questions,” said Kitty, quickly. “If people do anything for +you at all, they want to know what you do with it, and all about you. +Then they try to make you do something else. Curiosity is so tiresome! I +never want to know anything I don’t know already; the kind of things you +can be told aren’t the least interesting.” + +“I’m afraid they have a distinct interest for me,” said Anthony, slowly. +“I came here to find out one of them to-day.” + +Kitty looked at him appealingly. + +“Didn’t you just come to see me?” she murmured. “Don’t ask silly +questions, and after I’ve warned you so nicely, too, and I wasn’t +feeling nice when you first came in. I might quite easily stop being +nice now if you bother me about anything.” + +“Kitty,” interrupted Anthony, “I’m sorry, but I don’t care a damn +whether you’re nice or not. I’ve got to find out now what is the matter +with your shoulder.” + +Kitty stammered in a gust of frightened anger. She flung her head back, +and her face grew pinched and changed, as a flower withers and alters +under a touch of frost. + +“What do you mean?” she said sharply. “There _is_ nothing the matter +with my shoulder. You’re stupid and interfering. I wish you hadn’t +come.” + +“Still, I have come,” said Anthony, “and I’ve got to find out.” + +He got up and took her very gently by both arms. She twisted under his +hands, and struggled madly against him like a wild thing. + +“Let me go!” she muttered between clenched teeth. “I hate you! I’ve +always hated you! Let me go, Anthony!” + +But he did not let her go. He held her with a gentle force against which +all her struggles failed her. She sank passively against him; the wild +throbbing of her whole being stilled itself. She neither fainted nor +cried. + +Her eyelids covered her eyes. There was no color in her face except the +delicate touches of rouge that stained its deadly whiteness. Anthony +carried her over to a small, hard sofa by the window and laid her down +on it. She was no heavier than a child. + +Kitty opened her eyes and smiled at him. Her anger was gone as suddenly +as it had come. + +“Do what you like,” she said, shutting her eyes again. “After all, it +doesn’t really matter what anybody knows.” + +Anthony fixed his face so that, if she looked at him later, she would +not see his expression change. He was aware of what he had to meet, and +he knew that he must show nothing. The strength of her resistance to him +had been the strength of her fear. He became aware of every sound in the +small room: the muffled noises of the foggy street; a stir below him in +the dining-room, where some visitors were pushing back their chairs; the +plunge and vent of the small flames in the fireplace; and Kitty’s light, +swift breathing under his hands. + +He made his examination methodically and quickly. It was what he had +feared, but it was worse, because not even Anthony had dreamed that +Kitty could bear in silence such a burden of hidden pain. The lump on +her shoulder and beneath her arm extended in a long line down her side; +the growth had probably been very rapid for the last six months. It was +already close to the wall of her lungs, if the poison had not already +invaded it. He guessed from the unstable lightness of her breathing that +the invasion had already taken place. + +He finished his examination without comment, drawing the shimmering +dress lightly over her deadly secret. He knew that Kitty’s eyes were on +him now, and he turned his own to meet them. They showed her nothing but +his steadiness. + +“I hate lying down,” said Kitty, impatiently. She pulled herself up by a +hand on his shoulder, shivered a little, and moved back to the +fireplace. For a while neither of them spoke; then Anthony broke the +haunted silence. + +“It may be one of two things,” he said quietly. “I must get a second +opinion before I decide which it is. Hilton Laurence had better see you +with me to-morrow; but if you don’t mind, I must ask you a few questions +first. I think we can do something about it, you know.” + +“Oh, but I don’t want anything done,” said Kitty, quickly; “that’s just +why I haven’t told any one. I arranged it all in my mind—you see, I +hate fuss and doctors and nurses. I was afraid from the first it might +be rather bad, and I simply won’t be an invalid. Directly I’ve had as +much as I can stand, I shall send Peckham off for a holiday and then I +shall go away by myself, to some nice, undisturbed place, and take +veronal. It’s just been a kind of race between the fun and the pain. I +didn’t mean to stop until I’d had enough fun, and I meant to stop if I +had too much pain; but after I’d decided—it was—it was enough—” +Anthony lowered his eyes. The room was foggier than before. Kitty leaned +forward a little. The words that came from her seemed forced against her +will; they crept out into the dim air like frightened things. “I’ve had +enough pain now,” she whispered. + +Their hands groped for each other. Anthony knelt down beside her and put +his arms round her waist. He held her to him as if he could hold off the +onslaught of all enemies; but it was Anthony who broke down. + +Kitty drew his head into her lap and stroked his hair. + +“It doesn’t matter,” she said under her breath. “It’s not as bad as you +think. It’ll be all right, Tony. I won’t go on too long. I’m glad you +know after all. I didn’t want you to, because I hate the—the ugliness; +but you mustn’t mind so much. You see, my life isn’t really anything +very important. I’m just waste—like a bit of dust that dances in the +sunlight. It looks pretty jumping up and down, but when the light’s +gone, it’s only dust.” + +“Don’t, Kitty! don’t!” said Anthony. “I can’t stand it. I’m so horribly +strong myself, and I can’t use my strength for you. I can’t get any of +it out.” + +“But there isn’t anything for you to worry about,” Kitty urged. “I’ve +had all the things I wanted—I mean all the things I could have if I’d +lived to be a hundred—and it would bore me awfully to grow old and fat, +perhaps, with wrinkles. Now I shall just slip out, nicely and young, +without any fuss.” + +Anthony pulled himself together. + +“Not yet,” he said, “Kitty darling. You haven’t begun to have the things +you want yet, because I hadn’t got them to give you before; now I have. +Only give me a chance. Let me fight your pain! For God’s sake, Kitty, +let me fight it!” + +She looked curiously down at him. + +“How funny of you to care still,” she said, “when I thought I’d killed +it! Dear old Tony, I didn’t mean you to have this wretched time. What is +it that you want me to do?” + +“Be patient,” he urged her; “do what I tell you. I’ll have to see Hilton +Laurence first before I’m sure, but there are things that can be done +for you. I admit it’s a fight, but you’ll have the whole of us on your +side. Everything I am and everything I can do will go into this fight, +Kitty.” + +Her eyes looked gravely at him. She seemed to be weighing for him and +for him alone the cost of what he asked her. She shut herself out of it +as completely as if she had already ceased to exist. Then she said +gently: + +“All right, old boy. I promise you I won’t back out of it.” + + + CHAPTER XXIII + +The two men discussed the case for an hour before Kitty came. They were +busy men, and an hour was an unusually long time in which to go through +the claims of even the strangest case. Kitty’s case, though there was an +element of doubt about it, was not strange; but it was, in a doctor’s +phrase, a “nearly perfect case.” Hilton Laurence, poring over the +diagram Anthony had drawn for him, had never seen one so far advanced. + +“And she can come here,” he said incredulously, “in a taxi? She must be +a strong young woman; most women, or men, for the matter of that, at her +stage of the proceedings, would be lying drugged in bed with a couple of +nurses in attendance.” + +“She isn’t like the ordinary run of women,” said Anthony. “She has the +thoroughbred’s nerve; that’s what seems to give her a chance, a fighting +chance.” + +Hilton Laurence glanced quickly at Anthony. + +“Do you know her very well,” he demanded,—“as a friend, I mean, as well +as a patient?” + +Anthony hesitated a moment, then he faced his friend’s eyes. + +“I know her about as well,” he said gravely, “as a man knows a woman +when he can think of nothing else.” + +Hilton Laurence shook his head. + +“Ah,” he said, “that’s a pity. I’d better do the operating myself, then. +You can help me if you like, of course, but you’ll be asking a good deal +of yourself, Arden. If I were you, I’d leave the case entirely in +another man’s hands.” + +“I can’t do that,” said Anthony, quickly, “but I’ll be glad if you’ll do +the actual operating. I’ll see her through the rest; I am asking more of +her than I am of myself. But you have to ask a good deal of people in +order to be of any use to them.” + +A discreet parlor-maid came in with a card. + +“Show her in,” said Hilton Laurence without looking at Anthony. + +Kitty came into the room as if she were arriving at a party—a party +where she expected to be very successfully entertained. She looked +triumphantly well and perfectly mistress of herself. She wore a set of +Russian sables, a little gold-brown fur cap came down low over her dark +curls, her emerald ear-rings danced beneath it, as Anthony remembered +they had danced and flashed the first time he saw her. + +She threw back her furs with a little gesture of relief; they were lined +with green brocade and showed a honey-colored chiffon blouse. + +Kitty moved like the light _Princess_ in George McDonald’s fairy-tale, +the _Princess_ who could not weep because she had no gravity. + +At Anthony’s introduction she gave Hilton Laurence an intimate, +disarming smile. Kitty’s smile was at once an invitation to good +fellowship, and a promise that no tiresome exactions would follow. It +was a smile that said, “Here I am, and I’m sure you’re going to be +awfully nice to me; but you won’t find me a bit of a bother afterward.” + +The two men were aware that they had ceased for the moment to be +doctors: Kitty had transformed them into alert and friendly hosts. +Hilton Laurence held a chair for her, and Anthony was sent to find a +biscuit for her Pekinese. + +“I hope you don’t mind dogs,” Kitty explained. “As a matter of fact, +Algy isn’t a dog; he’s a Chinese dragon. You can’t keep a real dog in +London, can you? But I must have something that wags. Besides, Algy is +supposed to match my fur. He loves it so much he eats it. I suppose you +haven’t got chocolate biscuits; those are the kind he likes the best. +Your rooms are rather nice, not like a doctor’s a bit. Those old prints +are so jolly, and I suppose you have flower-boxes in the spring—like an +actress. But what a frightful lot of books! Do you make Tony read them? +Poor old Tony! Do tell me about him. I suppose he’s awfully clever, +isn’t he, like the strong, silent men in the detective-stories who find +out everything in the end, if they don’t turn out to be the murderer +themselves? I shouldn’t think you were a silent man, are you, Mr. +Laurence? Though I’m sure you’re a strong one. Tony says I’m to call you +‘Mister,’ because surgeons are smarter than doctors, and the smarter you +are the less there is to show for it. Is that the idea?” + +Hilton agreed that it was, only, if you got smarter still, he explained, +they made you a knight, which rather landed you. + +The Pekinese being satisfied with sweet biscuits, took the rug in front +of the fire. + +The sun came out and played upon the gilt bindings of the medical books +and made patches of gold upon the thick, soft carpet. Kitty eyed it +appreciatively. She loved the sun and thick, soft carpets and all the +ease and brightness of the world. She leaned back in her chair and +surveyed the two men before her with confidence. She knew that she could +handle the occasion with the ease which was natural to her in all +situations which contained men. + +Men can put up with disagreeable occasions, but they do not like to feel +that any woman they admire finds an occasion disagreeable, and Kitty +invariably let them off this realization. + +“You do yourselves awfully well,” she said appreciatively, “don’t you? I +think it’s so sensible. Now here’s a place where I suppose a certain +amount of tiresome things go on—and yet it’s quite cosy and nice to +look at—and I expect, Mr. Laurence, you have a first-rate cook? Anthony +didn’t say if I was to stay to lunch or not—I’ve never been to a +doctor’s before—so I don’t in the least know what happens, but I +suppose you ring a bell and turn me out when you have had enough of me? +Perhaps Tony gets up on the hearth rug and says ‘Well—?’ I’ve tried +that and it generally succeeds—when it doesn’t I turn on a gramophone +with a record of Tosti’s ‘Good-by.’ You might find that useful, Mr. +Laurence—of course it’s rather affectionate.” + +“Kitty,” said Anthony, quietly, “I think you’d better come over here and +let us have a look at you. You’ll have to take your things off, and lie +down on this little sofa.” + +The two men turned to each other while Kitty strolled across the room. +She stood in the patch of sunlight, and slipped off the security of her +sable furs. + +She was silent now, but there was a tranquillity in her silence compared +with which the perfunctory conversation of the two surgeons together was +nothing but a nervous flurry. They had to say something, but Kitty +hadn’t. She looked out of the window, lay down on the sofa, and turned +her eyes in the direction of Algy, who yawned. + +“Now we’ll just have a look at you,” said Hilton Laurence, with a +renewed and impersonal cheerfulness. + +Anthony said nothing. He stood on the other side of Kitty with his eyes +fixed intently on his colleague. He was trying to see Kitty not with his +own eyes, but with Hilton Laurence’s eyes. He was determined to know and +feel about her exactly what Hilton Laurence knew and felt, so that he +would not be deceived by the sharpness of his own personal hopes and +fears. He ceased to think of Kitty herself in his anxiety to read the +other man’s mind. + +Hilton Laurence was not thinking of Kitty’s personality either. She had +become a case, an extraordinarily interesting, madly neglected, case. +She was not a human being any longer; she was a little undressed figure +on a sofa, a pitifully broken figure lying there to be, if possible, +mended. + +She was forgotten, but she herself did not forget; her mind wandered +with amused serenity over the men before her. They couldn’t be only +doctors to Kitty; they were men, and it was the first time she had ever +seen men intensely at work. + +All the rest of her life had been connected with men at play. + +Kitty had been their play. Games, dances, and entertainments had filled +in the hours, and she had shared them all with an admirable mastery; but +she knew that she herself was the aim of all the other pleasures. The +men she knew had been intent, but they were intent on pleasing her, and +these two men, who had forgotten her altogether, were just as intent +without there being any question of pleasure. + +She wondered curiously what it would have been like for her if she had +had something to do, something besides men to interest her. Her whole +life might have been different; less amusing, perhaps, but more worth +while. She might have been just as attractive, but with something else +to fall back on—something with more permanence and dignity. But perhaps +she couldn’t have managed both. Being attractive took a great deal of +time. Her father had once told her: “People who rely on their natural +charm wear it out or have to become unselfish. It’s a subject to which +you must devote your whole attention in order to succeed.” And +apparently the interest of work took time, too. After all, you couldn’t +have everything. + +Kitty was glad that she had seen Anthony at work. Work would be good for +him; it would be good for him whatever happened. + +The Pekinese stopped yawning, drew his way slowly through the +lamb’s-wool mat, and sniffed suspiciously at the two doctors’ legs. + +“Silly old thing!” murmured Kitty. “They aren’t doing me any harm. They +think they’re doing me good; that’s their idea, anyhow.” + +Hilton Laurence was recalled by her voice. He spoke with his habitual +reassurance, but without looking at her. + +“Thanks,” he said; “I think we’ve seen enough. If you don’t mind, Miss +Costrelle, there are just one or two points we’d better discuss while +you’re dressing up again. I’m afraid we’ve tired you, rather. Shall I +send you in a glass of wine and a biscuit?” + +Kitty shook her head. She thought it rather funny of the two men to go +away and leave her, but it made it convenient to powder her nose. +Laurence had a sensible looking-glass. + +When they came back they found the same conquering princess as before. +Kitty’s head rested against a black cushion, and the Pekinese was rolled +up in her lap. + +Kitty had a habit of complete muscular control, so that she made very +few useless movements. She could sit perfectly still for hours without +stiffness or restlessness. She sat quite still now, smiling across the +room at the two men as they came back to her. + +Anthony had himself well in hand. His face expressed nothing; he even +gave Kitty a slight answering smile, which did not touch the controlled +gravity of his eyes. But Hilton Laurence came in with a reluctance he +could not quite hide; he hated to pass sentence on this radiant young +life before him. The thought of it made him look tired and old. He could +stand his friend’s iron self-control, but it was harder to meet the +friendly gaiety of Kitty. + +He drew a chair opposite her and said quickly: + +“I’m not going to beat about the bush, Miss Costrelle. That lump of +yours is a nuisance; we’ve got to get rid of it. Arden and I are both of +one mind; we think surgical treatment is needed.” + +“Surgical treatment means an operation, Kitty,” said Anthony, with a +little twisted smile; “it’s our pretty way of putting it.” + +“No, I don’t want to be pretty,” corrected Hilton Laurence, frowning; +“I’m going to be perfectly straight with you. This operation, which is +for bad glands, is a tedious, difficult, and serious business, and +you’re not in the very best condition to have it. But you’re a brave +girl, and I think you’ll stand it.” + +“Is it only glands?” asked Kitty, playing with one of Algy’s long, soft +ears. + +“Aren’t very bad glands enough for you?” asked Hilton Laurence, quickly. +Perhaps he asked his counter-question a shade too quickly. Kitty’s eyes +rested on him thoughtfully, then they turned to Anthony. + +“Is it only glands, Tony?” she repeated. + +“We’re not perfectly sure ourselves,” said Anthony, gently; “but in any +case, we think it’ll help the pain, Kitty.” + +“You’ll undoubtedly be the gainer by it,” interposed Hilton Laurence. +“You don’t stand to lose anything by the operation, Miss Costrelle.” + +“No,” she said quietly; “only, of course, I’ll be ill, sha’n’t I—I mean +it’s just lying in bed and having nurses and being an invalid? It’s +rather sickening, isn’t it?” + +“Life is a sickening business, Miss Costrelle,” said Hilton Laurence, +gravely. + +None of them said anything for a time. The fire crackled busily on the +hearth, the winter sunshine filled the quiet room. There was nothing to +be said against the impalpable and awkward fact that would turn a gay +princess into a stricken, hopeless invalid. The two men facing Kitty +could perhaps ease her downfall, but they could not prevent it. They +knew what lay before her. + +It was impossible to say what Kitty knew. She was grave for a few +moments, then she picked up Algy and shook him. + +“He likes to sleep,” she explained, “in the middle of the morning, +though he’s quite young, really. I think it’s the cream he takes for +breakfast—he will have it—and it goes to his head. It’s in the Bible, +isn’t it, how shocking it is to be drunk at the third hour of the day? I +don’t know if it was meant to include Pekes.” + +She rose with her light, careless grace and glanced over her shoulder at +Anthony. + +“Let’s go to Kew in a taxi and have lunch at Richmond, Tony,” she +suggested. “It’s such a heavenly day.” + +Hilton Laurence gave a sigh of relief. She didn’t understand, then; he +smiled paternally upon her. + +“You couldn’t have a better program,” he exclaimed; “the air will do you +all the good in the world.” + +“All the good in the world?” repeated Kitty, teasingly. “And how much do +you suppose that is?” + +Of course she knew that nothing would do her any good. A dazed look had +come over Anthony’s face; he stood quite still by the door, holding it +open for her. + +Hilton Laurence transferred his swift, clear-cut attention to Anthony. + +“Hand me over your case-notes for to-day, old boy,” he said quietly. +“I’ll take them over for you.” + +Anthony pulled himself together. + +“Thanks,” he said gratefully; “but I must just go and telephone to the +hospital.” + +Kitty passed out into the hall. Hilton Laurence followed her. She laid +her hand on his arm with a little friendly gesture of persuasion. + +“Look here,” she said in a rapid undertone. “When I’m dead, make Tony +stick to his work, make him think he ought to help people. He likes +helping people, you know. It’s funny; I had no idea work mattered so +much to men, but I see it does. Make him stick to it. You see, it would +be such an awful pity for Tony to be smashed, wouldn’t it? Because he +really _does_ help people, and awfully few people ever really help. They +just make a fuss on the top; they don’t go down into it. I’m sure you +know what I mean.” + +“My dear young lady—” stammered Hilton Laurence. Of course he ought to +say she wasn’t going to be dead, but something in Kitty’s eyes checked +him. He didn’t say it. + +They stood for a long, queer moment in the hall holding each other’s +eyes. Then Kitty heard Anthony’s returning footsteps. She smiled at +Hilton Laurence, reassuringly. + +“I dare say I shall get better, and it won’t matter,” she murmured +soothingly. “Another time,” she added in her clear, high little voice, +“perhaps you’ll invite me to lunch. Could he, Tony? Or is it one of your +dreadful rules that doctors can’t eat with patients—like prisoners with +their executioners? I’m fearfully hungry, but I dare say I shall hold +out till I get to Richmond. Tell the man to drive fast.” + +Kitty leaned back in the taxi, and Algy, yapping with tremendous zeal, +poised himself on her knees. He was prepared to feel that he himself was +the engine. Every nerve in his small, erect body responded to the +winding-up of the car. He stood upon Kitty’s lap as an admiral stands +upon his bridge, ready to direct the biddable universe. + +Kitty turned her head and looked back at Hilton Laurence. He did not +usually stand on the steps to say farewell to his patients, but he stood +there now. + +“Promise you’ll keep him up to it?” called Kitty, touching Anthony’s arm +with her hand. + +“I promise,” agreed Hilton Laurence, steadily. + +“What’s that you’ve made him promise?” asked Anthony as they moved +quickly down Wimpole Street, and flashed up the bustling stretch of +traffic stretching away toward the Marble Arch. + +“Oh, it’s just a little thing I wanted him to do for me,” replied Kitty, +lightly. “And now I’m going to enjoy myself.” + + + CHAPTER XXIV + +Anthony had known moments in the years of his captivity when he had let +himself go in a sudden compulsion of happiness. He had shut out by an +effort of the will all sense of his imprisonment, and enjoyed as +separate things the sight and smell of summer fields. He realized that +he and Kitty were doing the same thing now; they had their single sunny +hour, and behind and in front of it were monstrous experiences. It was a +green space, with edelweiss growing between precipices. They had had to +climb up, and they still had the dangers of the descent before them; but +for a little while they stood safe and triumphant among the flowers. + +Kitty managed their precarious footing better than Anthony; her pleasure +was not invaded by thought or by the conscious effort of her own will. +She had the strange humility of those who have not set themselves free +by moral struggles. She could be happy because she expected nothing of +herself and very little of others. She knew no more than that it was a +fine day and she had Anthony. + +Kitty loved her lunch in the old-fashioned, dark dining-room at +Richmond, and when they reached Kew she loved the gardens even more. She +caught sight of a squirrel making a brief excursion between the trees in +an open avenue, and she held out her bare hands and laughed at the +feeling of the warm sunshine touching them. Without a sign of fatigue, +she drew Anthony on and on, across the lawn, where in the spring the +azaleas bloom, and on into the leafless, empty bluebell wood. + +“It’s like a sea,” Kitty told him, “when they’re out; not the big, +clumsy sea, full of water, but a string of clear blue pools left behind +by a tide. You look and look till the blueness closes over your head. I +think the light to-day is a ghost light, for I can almost see the +bluebells. We must come here together one day next spring.” She broke +off suddenly, and said she wanted to see the palace where Henry VIII’s +wives spent the gayer intervals of their precarious existences. + +“It must have been rather nice,” Kitty observed speculatively, “to have +been one of those short queens; only I don’t believe Henry would have +cut my head off. I’d have been short more naturally. The thing with +Henry would have been to get tired first. I could easily have managed +that.” + +“Aren’t you tired now,” Anthony asked anxiously, “without managing it?” + +“Ah, you aren’t Henry VIII,” said Kitty; “I don’t have to take the +precaution of being tired of you.” + +He hadn’t the heart to tell her that there were other precautions which +it would have been wise for her to take. It was as if Kitty had for the +moment evaded the line of fatigue, and was holding by sheer will to the +absence of pain. + +She strolled with him round the wide pond that lay as flat as an +upturned looking-glass within a whispering thicket of yellow water +reeds. + +“Fancy it’s being a fine day,” Kitty exclaimed, slipping her arm into +Anthony’s, “and then seeing a squirrel and having nobody about! I like +winter best, don’t you? There’s nothing to take your attention off what +there is. The trees are so jolly and black and bare; the grass is like a +special treat; the sky is nearer; and when it’s fine, you don’t expect +it. It’s so nice not to be sold by a surprise.” + +Anthony was puzzled by this revelation of Kitty. He had not supposed she +would like anything undecorative or bare. She voiced his very thoughts +for him, and then, with a sudden little shiver of discontent, she said: + +“I hate the water reeds. They all shuffle and chatter so—like a crowd +of underbred women in church. It’s cold, too. After all, I think I like +hothouses best. Do you know the blue lotus? Let’s go there. I like blue +lotuses. They lie in a pool and do nothing but stare at you—awfully +nice, lazy, well-dressed flowers.” + +They walked back to the blue-lotus house. Kitty flung off her furs and +gazed down into the pool. Palms and tropical foliage surrounded them, +and in the distance there was the broad back of a discreet custodian. + +“Funny old thing!” said Kitty, looking down at the blue lotus. “It looks +just the same as the one I saw ages ago. I wonder how long the flower +lives.” Anthony told her, but Kitty did not listen to him. She said +suddenly: “I got into an awful row after you left Rochetts. I suppose +Jim must have said something to Daphne. When I went back to the lawn to +say good-by, they both got up and walked into the house without speaking +to me. It’s funny the way married people act in lumps, isn’t it? Your +poor mother didn’t understand. She was awfully bothered and kind, and +kept saying she was sure Daphne couldn’t be well. Finally I said: + +“‘It’s quite all right, Mrs. Arden, really. Daphne thinks I’m not fit to +speak to—and I’m _not_, you know.’ Your mother put her hand on my arm +and said: + +“‘My dear, I’m _so_ sorry.’ Wasn’t it sweet of her? I think it was the +nicest thing anybody ever said to me. Papa was examining a rose-tree +through his eyeglass. I don’t know what he heard or thought about it; +what he said was: + +“‘We must really get a Mabel Vernon.’ Then we went home. The nicest part +of papa is he never says anything unless you do.” + +Kitty gave a little inconsequent laugh. + +“I think I must have been mad that night,” she added reflectively, “for +I did such an absurd thing! I worked myself up into telling dear old +Peckham all sorts of things she needn’t ever have known. It was so +silly, for I wasn’t even going on with them. I knew I’d come to a stop. +You can’t be ill and gay beyond a certain point, can you? Besides, I +didn’t want to very much. + +“Of course I’m as gay as I can be now, but nothing Peckham need have +minded. I always think confessions are worse than sins. Don’t you? +Usually you only upset yourself by your sins, but you upset other people +by your confessions.” + +Anthony drew Kitty to a seat. + +“Tell me,” he asked her gently, “what made you make that scene there at +Rochetts if you don’t believe in confessions and don’t like upsetting +people?” + +Kitty stared at him. + +“Oh, that,” she said. “Don’t you know? I had to; I didn’t want you to +get dragged into all this. I knew something or other was coming, and I +meant you not to have the bother of it. I thought you wouldn’t go on +caring for me if I was nasty enough and you got clean away. Heaps of +people have got over caring for me beautifully. Of course I see you +haven’t now; so it’s different. I can’t keep you out of things if you +really care. I suppose I shall just have to do what you like.” + +Anthony looked down at her eagerly. + +“Will you really, Kitty?” he asked. “There is something else I want. I +want it awfully, more than I can ever tell you; I’ve been thinking about +it all night, hoping I could ask you, but afraid of being a bother, too. +It makes the whole thing simpler if you can do it. I want you to marry +me at once, in three days, before the operation. I want the right of +taking care of you. If you give it to me, we needn’t have any nursing +homes or nurses. I’ll take a furnished house, and look after you myself +with Peckham. Whatever we have to go through, we can go through solidly +together. It was my being such a fool as not to share everything with +you that left you alone with this—this misery. I can’t let myself think +of it. You won’t mind marrying me now, will you?” + +Kitty laughed. + +“Silly old thing!” she said. “It was I that didn’t want to share +anything. It’s awfully sweet of you to think about marriage, but why +need we be married? If you want so awfully to take care of me, I’ll let +you do it; but marriage seems to me rather off the point.” + +“It isn’t,” said Anthony, passionately; “it matters tremendously to me. +I want the right, the sanction, whatever you like to call it; I want our +lives held together before the world as well as in our hearts. + +“I want every one to know that we’ve hit on something that lasts.” + +Kitty looked at him consideringly. + +“Marriage doesn’t always last,” she said a little dryly, then she +slipped her hand over Anthony’s. “You want nobody to say anything +horrid,” she said gently, “but I don’t care any more what people say.” + +“I care,” Anthony said desperately, “and, O Kitty, I want you for +myself. I don’t want any one else to interfere or speak or think between +us. We’ve had so much of that already. Let’s fall in with the world, if +it’s the only way to keep out the world.” + +Kitty moved a little restlessly. + +“It isn’t the world,” she said; “it’s your mother and Daphne. Those are +the people I don’t want to come across. They’ve been good and dear and +kind, but it hasn’t been possible—and it’s I, not they, who have made +it impossible. Because I’m ill, doesn’t make me good, you know, Tony.” + +Anthony bent his head and kissed her hands passionately, one after the +other; he held them to his lips as if he could not let them go. + +“I can’t stand any more, Kitty,” he said quietly. “I’d like to stop and +think of them if you want me to, but I can’t. I think only of you. I +need you as I never needed you. Don’t shut me out for anything on +earth.” + +Kitty watched him with bright, unshrinking eyes. + +“How long would it be for, Tony?” she asked. + +“Always, always,” he cried brokenly. “I hope so—I believe so, Kitty. I +will have your life. It’ll be all right, if you can stand just for a +time having to be ill—” + +Kitty put her hand up to check the words on his lips. + +“No, no,” she said; “don’t say doctors’ things, Tony. I don’t need to be +reassured. Besides, it wouldn’t have the effect you want. If I thought +marriage would really be for long, you see, I wouldn’t do it. I’d do +anything else you want, but not tie you up—and hurt them. I’d think it +boring; but if it’s for just a little while and you awfully wanted to, +we could explain to them, and then they wouldn’t mind so much. But I +must know the truth; is it only for a little while?” + +Anthony bowed his head. The words that had stood outside his mind like +armed sentries all the day rushed in and took possession: “She may live +a year after the operation if her strength holds out.” + +“Not awfully long,” he said thickly. + +Kitty got up and peered down at the blue lotus. + +“All right,” she said quietly. “Won’t it be fun being married? We’ll ask +papa to give us lunch afterward at the Carlton. Will you see him for me, +Tony, and tell him about it? Dear old thing! He’ll like ordering lunch.” + +The shadows in the lotus-house had changed; the custodian approached +them, jingling his keys significantly. + +“It’ll be nicer in the air,” Kitty said, taking Anthony’s arm. “They’re +rather stuffy things, blue lotuses, after all.” + +Anthony became suddenly aware of how exhausted Kitty had become. Without +a word they turned toward the gates. The garden was deserted, and the +short winter day was drawing to a close. It seemed an eternity before +the long road yielded them a taxi. Anthony lifted Kitty into it and held +her in his arms. + +She gave herself up to pain without resistance, in the same spirit in +which she had given herself up to pleasure, only more quietly. The pain +beat down on her as rain beats on a flower. Anthony was baffled by his +separation from her suffering. His imagination struck and struck against +it, as the sea fumbles and strikes against the walls of iron cliffs, +seeking an entrance. He could not get in to share her pain with her, and +Kitty could not let him in. + +When they reached Trevor Road, the fire was burning brightly, and +Peckham, vigilant and expectant, produced hot-water bottles and tea. + +Moment by moment the gray pallor of Kitty’s face lightened. + +“It’s been such a jolly day, Tony,” she whispered. “I hadn’t any idea +Kew would be such fun. Go and see papa now; don’t forget to tell him +about the lunch.” + +Mr. Costrelle was always to be seen between four and eight o’clock at +his club. + +Bridge was his inflexible habit. He found the element of chance, he +explained, purer in cards than in women, and nothing ever held Mr. +Costrelle permanently, except the element of chance. + +He told Anthony immediately that he could spare him only ten minutes. + +“However,” he added reassuringly, “most things can be said in ten +minutes. Will you have a whisky and soda?” + +Anthony not only consented, but poured himself out a very stiff glass. + +“Rattled!” thought Mr. Costrelle. “Kitty! What a mistake it is not to +diffuse one’s sentiments!” + +“I don’t know if you have any idea,” Anthony began after a short pause, +“that I care for Kitty.” + +“You spent the larger part of six weeks in my daughter’s company last +year,” said Mr. Costrelle. “I never ask questions, but salient facts +rarely escape me.” + +“I want to marry her,” Anthony said, leaning forward, “immediately, +within three days.” + +Mr. Costrelle’s long, white face lifted for a moment; his blue eyes +passed rapidly over Anthony, and then returned to his glass. + +“Thursday,” he said, “I think that brings us to Thursday. People with +superstitions, I believe, avoid Friday. I always respect superstitions; +there seems as much reason to believe in them as to believe in anything +else. I am glad you have avoided Friday.” + +“Unfortunately,” pursued Anthony, “this is not all I have to tell you.” +He hesitated for a moment. Mr. Costrelle screwed his eyeglass into his +eye and waited patiently. He disliked sentences beginning with +“Unfortunately,” especially if they referred to Kitty. “Do you +remember,” Anthony began again, “that I thought last summer there was +something wrong with her shoulder?” + +Mr. Costrelle continued to regard Anthony with defensive passivity. + +“Certainly I do,” he agreed. “Most doctors think there is something +wrong with somebody—a most disconcerting profession.” + +“Well,” said Anthony, impatiently, “in this case I happened to be right; +there was a growth below the shoulder which threw it a little out of +place. It has increased rapidly. I saw Hilton Laurence with her this +morning; we both think we ought to operate immediately.” + +Mr. Costrelle drew out a slim cigar-case, took out a cigar, lit it, and +leaned back in his chair. + +“What is the nature of the growth?” he asked when he completed this +arrangement, “and what will be the effect of the operation if it is +successful?” + +“We are not absolutely certain of its nature,” replied Anthony, “but all +the symptoms point to its being malignant. It is probably a fibroid +cancer. The operation will prolong her life. She could not live six +weeks if we left her as she is, and the pain—” + +Anthony stopped abruptly. The memory of Kitty lying motionless in his +arms choked him. He could not speak to Mr. Costrelle of Kitty’s pain. +Mr. Costrelle finished his sentence for him. + +“Naturally,” he observed, “the pain will be considerable in either case. +Well, it’s a very disagreeable subject, and as I suppose you know all +there is to be known about it, I leave it entirely in your hands.” + +Anthony drew a deep breath. He had not known what to expect from Mr. +Costrelle, but this entire detachment left him with a sense of its not +having been necessary to expect anything. He realized what Kitty had +always had to face, a responsibility from which in every emergency Mr. +Costrelle invariably withdrew. + +Mr. Costrelle wished to be quite friendly and nice about it, and as he +met Anthony’s astonished eyes, it occurred to him that possibly he had +not entirely fulfilled his future son-in-law’s expectations. + +“I’m quite pleased about the marriage,” he added cordially. “The point +of it, under the circumstances, entirely evades me, but I am sure it’s +an admirable thing for Kitty. Marriage always suits women. Did she send +me any message?” + +It hardly seemed a convenient moment to suggest a luncheon party, but +Anthony, remembering that it was Kitty’s wish, made the suggestion a +little tentatively. Mr. Costrelle’s consent was as spontaneous as if the +idea was a relief. + +“Certainly she shall have a luncheon at the Carlton,” he said. “I could +have arranged, perhaps, a more perfect meal elsewhere, but women like +other things besides food. Shall we say lunch at two o’clock? I shall +arrange to bring my own wine. I have a Château Yquêm which is tolerably +well known. Our ten minutes is up, I think.” + +Mr. Costrelle’s self-possession was complete. He shook hands with +Anthony loosely and briefly, and joined his bridge four with his usual +long-limbed, lounging gait. But despite Mr. Costrelle’s impassivity, his +ten minutes had taken the zest from his life. + +Sorrow could not disarrange his habits, but it could devitalize a +failing taste. Mr. Costrelle knew that he would never enjoy his bridge +so much again. Anthony thought his future father-in-law did not know the +meaning of grief. He did not realize that the grief which the mind +evades is a grief which dogs a man’s footsteps to the end of his days. + +Anthony plunged into the short concentrated time which lay before the +operation with a queer sense of relief. He had gained no support from +Mr. Costrelle, but he would have Kitty all the more to himself. + + + CHAPTER XXV + +When Anthony informed Henry of his impending marriage over the +telephone, Henry exclaimed, “Good God!” but he was very useful +afterward. He gave Anthony the address of a house in Duke Lane that +belonged to friends of his who wanted to go abroad immediately and were +willing to let it as it stood; and he volunteered to go down to Pannell +for Anthony to break the news to his parents. + +Henry knew that a great deal of manipulation was necessary if the +marriage was to be accepted by the family, and he thought it had better +be accepted, because, after a talk with Hilton Laurence, he had come to +the conclusion that he couldn’t prove Anthony mad, and that the marriage +wasn’t a permanent disaster. + +“Insane acts are seldom certifiable,” Hilton Laurence explained rather +dryly to Henry, “and in any case you won’t have long to put up with it.” + +Henry felt very strongly that a thing that couldn’t be stopped and +wouldn’t last long had better not be looked into at all. + +It was unfortunate that Anthony insisted his parents should be told the +truth before they decided whether they would receive Kitty or not, but +Henry, in whose hands the truth had been deposited, felt that it was +open to him to deal with it economically. + +Powder in sufficient quantities may destroy an empire, but readjusted, +and with the explosive elements left out, it is said to give a +beneficial appearance to overheated complexions. + +Henry told his father that he probably wouldn’t consider the marriage +suitable. Miss Costrelle came from a good old Essex family, but she was +poor and had lived a long time abroad. She hadn’t any particular home, +and Anthony was marrying her before the operation in order to look after +her himself. + +“Of course it’s quixotic,” Henry continued swiftly before Mr. Arden was +fairly launched upon his first negative. “Poor old Tony has had a bee in +his bonnet ever since he returned to England. It isn’t an ordinary +marriage, and you know I feel with you, sir, that ordinary marriages are +always the best; but I do think he might have done worse. If the girl +recovers, which is, I fear, extremely improbable, she’ll make him more +normal; and if she doesn’t, he’ll have had his head, and be free again, +without much damage done.” + +Mr. Arden listened to Henry with some consideration. He knew that Henry, +with very little help from him, had carved out a successful legal +career. His father appreciated success and respected the law. It was +true the law was not always amenable to force, but on the whole it +usually protected the rights of those who had most of them, and you +could not override it when it went against you. Mr. Arden listened to +Henry, even when he differed from him, with more patience than he +usually found convenient. + +“If she comes from a good family, she must have relatives,” he said +severely; “all good families have relatives. It’s pure nonsense for Tony +to make himself responsible for an invalid bride. I don’t approve of it +at all. You may tell him so from me. I sha’n’t accept it. Why should I? +It’s not the kind of thing an eldest son should do. What’s to become of +the place? Tony is as selfish as if he were a scatter-brained young +fool, and he hasn’t the excuse of being one. Doesn’t he know at his age +he ought to have children?” + +“But Henry says, dear,” interposed Mrs. Arden, gently, “that it’s a +really dangerous operation and that it is not likely that Miss Costrelle +will live long after it, and then dear Anthony could marry again.” + +“That makes it worse,” declared Mr. Arden. “It sounds to me like adding +murder to matrimony. I don’t want to sit and wish for a poor girl to +die, and I don’t like re-marriages. The whole thing is both silly and +shocking. I shall have no hand in it.” + +“You hear what your father says, Henry,” said Mrs. Arden, with an air of +finality, which always soothed her husband. “I shouldn’t say any more +about it until after tea.” + +But when tea-time came Mr. Arden had had a further conversation with his +wife—a conversation in which, after a good deal of heated repetition, +on Mr. Arden’s part, a few suggestions on Mrs. Arden’s, which he had +come to feel were his own, had softly permeated the repetitions. They +ran as follows: Anthony was of age, he could really do what he liked; +therefore opposition was useless, particularly as it had never been +known to answer with Anthony. It was almost certain the girl would die, +and dead girls are not aggressive. They need not say anything very +definite until after the operation. If it was successful, and the girl +got better, she did belong to a good family; if she didn’t get better, +she wouldn’t belong to any family at all. + +Anthony was not asking them for money. He had said nothing about +settlements. The squire hated settlements. You had to tie up your money +and then keep your hands off it. He wouldn’t have to do this in the +circumstances, and he couldn’t have got out of doing it in any other. A +message founded on these facts was produced at tea-time, which could +easily be presented to Anthony in the light of acquiescence. + +“He’s of age,” Mr. Arden said reluctantly, “and I can’t stop him making +a fool of himself. Tell him from me that we sha’n’t come to the +marriage—the whole thing is very disagreeable and odd—but if the girl +gets better, she can come here to convalesce. Pannell’s his home, and I +sha’n’t keep him or his wife out of it.” + +Mrs. Arden hid in the shrubbery and preceded Henry to the steps of the +dog-cart. + +“I remember Miss Costrelle quite well,” she said, with a curious little +flush on her face; “I thought her quite fascinating. Of course I know +she’s not suitable for Tony’s wife, poor dear. It’s a pity she is so—so +French, but I can’t help feeling sorry she is ill. Give them _both_ my +love, Henry.” + +Henry did not give the whole of this message, either; he thought it was +rash. He seldom gave the whole of any message. + +He offered to write to Daphne, but Anthony had done this for himself. He +wrote: + + I know you once understood and loved Kitty. I didn’t when I was + with you; I only saw what the world had done to her and I blamed + her for it. It’s so hard not to blame people for their scars. + Anyway, you’ll forgive her now if she hurt you, for she is under + the harrow. I can’t lift it off; I can stand by her, that is + all. + + I have found a way of doing it which perhaps even you won’t + understand; but if anybody can understand, you will. I daren’t + look ahead at any future, but I suppose instinct, or whatever it + is that pushes us forward to help each other, will keep me up to + the mark. Laurence operates on Friday; I shall assist. + + Don’t bother to come even if you want to; only think of her with + kindness. For your sake she would not have married me if she had + not known that it was only for a little time. Do you remember + how happy you were when I came back from prison? I like to + remember your happiness; only I think it is true that one loves + even more when one is unhappy. + + ANTHONY. + +Henry settled all the details of the marriage. Bishops and chaplains in +his hands were as malleable as butter. There were no impediments. + +Kitty had been so exhausted after her day at Kew that Anthony had +insisted on her remaining in bed until the morning of her marriage. He +had succeeded in keeping her out of pain. + +Kitty enjoyed the rest of lying in bed and looking at her new room. It +was a quiet, pretty room. The windows overlooked the Carmelites’ garden +on the other side of the narrow street. + +It was not a large garden, but there were trees in it, and Kitty took a +great interest in the Carmelites. + +“Monks are the kind of men I don’t know,” she explained to Anthony. “I +do so wish I could have one to talk to! I want to ask them what it feels +like to live all day long under a rule and never to know what God made +the world for. For I suppose He did rather mean it for men and women to +live in, didn’t He? And yet I admire them; it’s rather fine to shut +yourself behind a wall into a stone church because you think it pleases +anybody, even God. + +“I wonder if there’s some kind of trick about prayer. Do you think there +is, and that’s why they can go on for such an awfully long time and not +mind being bored? Peckham prays, too; but she takes off her stays first, +and prays in her dressing-gown. Do you think God hears her and the monks +as well? It must be rather nice for Him, I should think, that some +people don’t pray. Peckham expects to get answers. Do the monks?” + +Anthony said he thought they did, but probably not the same kind of +answers. He told Kitty his own theories about auto-suggestion, but Kitty +only said: + +“I don’t think that makes it any easier. Where does the auto-suggestion +come from? There’s always an outside as well as an inside, isn’t there? +And if God made the outside, He could put the idea into you from it, +couldn’t He? You must start a ball of wool somewhere.” + +Anthony wanted to go on with the subject, for it surprised him to see +that Kitty had lit on a connected form of reasoning. But she broke off +immediately, as if she was afraid of anything deeper than a chance +question. + +“I’m so glad you like Peckham,” she said softly. “I think I’ve got an +awfully nice family now—you and Peckham and Henry. Henry came to ask me +this morning if I wanted a red carpet. He said I couldn’t have a carpet +without a carriage or a carriage without a carpet. I do like Henry’s +mind. I told him we were going to walk down the little alley to the +church, so he said we couldn’t have a carpet; but we might have bells +afterward, if we liked.” + +The walk to St. Mary Abbot’s was a mere stone’s-throw from Duke Lane, +but Kitty’s strength was only in her mind. Her eyes laughed, and she +pretended that when she paused to look into the tiny square or at the +quaint shop-windows of Church Walk she was doing it for fun and not +because her breath had failed her. + +She had wanted to walk, because she said it would seem more like the +country. She lingered as they came to the open doorway of the church +beneath the trees. They could look up the long nave of the church toward +the altar. + +Henry had had it beautifully decorated with lilies and white lilac. +Kitty had not thought of the actual marriage before; she had thought of +her dress, which was the color of autumn leaves, of lunch at the +Carlton, and the fun of the way Henry had dealt with the bishop; but the +grave service under its white shrine of flowers came to her +unexpectedly. She had a wave of sudden fear; her face remained +impassive, and the gravity that settled down upon her seemed merely +appropriate to the hour, but her heart beat against her side like an +imprisoned bird. + +It was the emptiness of the church which disconcerted Kitty. There was +no one there but Peckham and Henry in a seat in front of the altar. A +verger with a duster stood in a distant corner, and an expectant curate +put his head round the door from the vestry to see if they had arrived. + +Peckham was on her knees, and her black bonnet, with its single red +rose, looked as if it were being shaken by concealed emotion. Henry’s +face was a blank. He was prepared for anything, and his entire +consciousness rose to hide the signs of his preparation. Kitty might +faint, Anthony might start some dreadful skeptical fad. They might be +late; they ought not to have walked in together. The situation bristled +with irregularities, and it depended upon Henry’s face to make it look +as regular as possible. + +Anthony was entirely preoccupied with how much Kitty could stand and +whether he couldn’t persuade her afterward to give up lunching at the +Carlton. The service passed over his head without any significance +whatever, except that of length. + +As Kitty turned toward him to make her answering troth, her eyes widened +a little, and her lips stiffened. She had forgotten the great words, but +they raised suddenly in her heart a storm of memory. Dick had said them +to her, long ago, by the bridge he had built across their gardens: “For +better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.” + +Anthony wavered and disappeared before her eyes, and Dick came in his +place—Dick, who was all her early life—and held in his hands her rich, +untouched, and perfect memories. + +Anthony stood only for broken things, for hours of pain and indecision, +for her incomplete and torturing emergencies, and for her blind hours of +shame. She laid her small hand firmly on the rails until the pain shot +up her arm into her shoulder. The pain brought back the figure of +Anthony. He stood looking down at her with reassuring, watchful eyes. + +Death and innocence and Dick took no part in this marriage, but a love +that was stronger than youth and innocence stood by her and would stand +by her to the end. + + + CHAPTER XXVI + +Anthony felt that he knew Kitty in the church; she was there in his +world, a part of the act that bound them. He was not sure of her +thoughts, but he was sure of her attitude. Outside the church she ceased +to belong to him. When he suggested under his breath that they should +give up the Carlton, her amazed eyes met his in a flash of hostility. + +“Give up lunching with papa?” she exclaimed. “But he’s ordered it!” + +Anthony had touched by accident on one of Kitty’s laws. She had so few +that it was not surprising he should have failed to recognize their +existence. But the law of pleasure is at least as strong in its +compulsion to its votaries as any other law. Business appointments never +disturbed Kitty. You kept them if you remembered them and if you had +nothing better to do; but social engagements, which were meant to be an +exchange of pleasure, were inviolate. Inconvenience, suffering, fate +even, bowed before a luncheon party. You couldn’t put off what was meant +to amuse. It might even bore you; but if you’d promised, you’d promised. + +The intention was, after all, there, and the intention was sacred. + +Henry understood this immediately. + +“If you had thought it would be too much for her,” he said a little +reproachfully to Anthony, “you should have telephoned overnight to Mr. +Costrelle.” + +“It won’t be too much for me,” said Kitty, impatiently; “I shall like +it. It will be great fun after that stuffy, old, black church. The +flowers were charming, Henry. I like to be drenched in lilies. I could +get drunk on the scent of them, couldn’t you? They’re the least-innocent +flower in the world, and yet every one gets taken in by them, especially +in church. The curate had adenoids. I dare say he couldn’t help it, but +I hate men with adenoids. This is what the troth, or whatever it was +called, sounded like.” + +Kitty imitated the curate to perfection. Henry laughed, and Anthony +wondered where the Kitty was who at the moment of those uttered words +had looked afraid. She had not been thinking of the curate’s adenoids +then. + +He was absorbed in his thoughts of Kitty’s remaining hours. Did she +realize how few there were, or know the awful curtain which would come +down between the Kitty as she was to-day and the Kitty she was to be +to-morrow? He wanted every moment of her held in the privacy of their +small house, dedicated to their love and understanding, and he felt a +bitter rebellion against the artificial public hours that she had +claimed instead. + +It was a harsh, unlovely day. London had a look of dirty cold, the +houses were pinched into mere shelters, the raw air pursued and baffled +the passers-by, forcing them into an irritated consciousness of their +errands. There was no color anywhere. The gray of the sky was dead and +unluminous, the streets a greasy brown. Their motor skidded and shuffled +through the traffic like a sleep-walker, blind to everything but its own +passage. + +Henry talked cheerfully of possible skating. At present it was too damp, +but the temperature was falling fast; a good hard frost— + +He hoped Kitty and Anthony were not going to fall out on their wedding +day; neither of them made any suitable response to the possibility of +frost. These hasty rushes into marriage usually ended in bad temper. + +Henry congratulated himself inwardly on his escapes from matrimony. They +had never been narrow escapes. He had foreseen the danger a long way +off, but they had been complete. People were likely to turn out +unsatisfactory at close quarters, especially women. Women were romantic, +and when they were married they were incessant, and it took a very +strong digestion to stand incessant romance. That was the worst of +marriage; you couldn’t turn away from it with a good conscience. + +Of course Anthony had made the situation a great deal more difficult +than it need have been. Miss Costrelle was perfectly charming, but none +of her charms were domestic, and all of them were undoubtedly a shade +too obvious. She reminded Henry of a picture in the Wallace Collection. +It was a portrait of Perdita Robinson with a muff. Perdita Robinson +hadn’t been very domestic, either. + +Kitty smiled across at him. + +“I know what you’re thinking,” she said alarmingly. “You’re like the man +in the Bible who thanked God he wasn’t as other men were. You know the +proper kind of wife is a bother, and the kind of wife who wouldn’t be a +bother—that’s me; you know, Tony—isn’t a proper kind of wife at all. +Confess you were thinking something like that, Henry.” + +“Few men can be so fortunate as Anthony,” replied Henry with skilled +irrelevancy; but he was glad when they reached the Carlton. + +If Kitty had been guilty of a gust of bad temper, it left her as she +entered the hotel. The big, smart lounge was like home to her. She drew +in a long breath of the slightly stale, slightly scented air as if it +refreshed her. She knew exactly how to hold herself in public. She was +more conscious than any Englishwoman is by nature, and more trained than +any Englishwoman allows herself to be to hide her consciousness. Her +studied spontaneity gave an impression of perfect ease, which is the +seal of the true artist. + +The Carlton was Kitty’s sphere; in a moment she had seen and mastered +the human material in the lounge. No other woman there held men’s eyes +as Kitty held them. She moved slowly, with little pauses, in exactly the +right space and light. With each brief phrase she threw at Henry or +Anthony she was aware first of its effect upon them, and then in the +widening circles of a disturbed pool she noted the further effect +spreading throughout the room. + +Mr. Costrelle rose slowly from behind a palm and greeted his guests +phlegmatically. His eyes ran over Kitty with a steady critical +appreciation. Anthony saw with a pang of pure surprise that at the +moment it mattered more to Mr. Costrelle that Kitty should be dressed +properly than that she shouldn’t look ill. + +She did not look ill to the ordinary spectator, who failed to take +account of the carefully hidden signs. She was made up with finished and +unerring skill. Her picture-hat, with its thick, shaded plumes of dull +pale pink, softened the outlines of her face. She carried her head as if +she had never known physical fatigue. + +Kitty had what other women missed, the art of personality. Nothing that +she did miscarried, and no movement of her fine, supple body was without +significance. To-day she was more alive than Anthony had ever seen her; +differently alive, for it was not the life of her inner self: it was the +directed energy of a trained workman performing his task. + +Mr. Costrelle led them to the table he had prepared for them. He had +chosen the most public and visible spot in the room. + +Kitty sat down with her back to the light, and smiled at him across a +bowl of mauve and pale-pink carnations. Her smile was like a signal +between two trained performers. + +Mr. Costrelle had done his part. The meal was perfect. He had ordered a +few dishes, each one the best and most delicate of its kind. He had +chosen two sound wines, and crowned them with the Château Yquêm, which +lay in a basket beside him. + +It was now Kitty’s turn to play hers. She must be entertaining enough to +keep everything going, and not so absorbing as to interfere with a due +appreciation of the food. She must make each man feel at his best for +not too long at a time, and without interfering with the attractions of +the other men. She must also make all the other women in the room +jealous and their men envious. + +Anthony, with his heart on the rack, watched her with grim concern. +Everything in the big, spacious room was utterly unreal to him: its +little tables, its flowers, its groups of well-dressed people. Their +idleness, their privileges, their evocation of temporary tastes, +revolted and amazed him. + +For years he had lived hard and thought continuously, he had seen pain +and struggled with it as the man in the Laocoon struggles with the +presence of the coiled serpent; and these people lived dead against the +image of pain, even when, as in Kitty’s case, it hung poised above them +ready to strike; they blinded themselves against the issues of life. +They spent money and time and strength on expensive clothes and foods +and endless reiterations and repetitions of unnecessary, unenlightening +words. + +Sometimes Anthony caught a clever phrase. Mr. Costrelle and Kitty +herself were often inadvertently witty, but they had not set out to be, +and they never let it go very far. They wanted to entertain, but they +hadn’t any notion of sticking to an idea; it did not seem to them very +entertaining to stick to anything for long. + +Kitty sat there discussing a notorious career with clipped expert +phrases—the career of a woman she didn’t know, a mere bagatelle out of +a newspaper—and she was within a few hours of the sharpest of personal +struggles, she was even now menaced by acute and driving pain. + +Anthony saw the shadow of it in her eyes, and heard in the faint +hardness of her laughter, the effort of her self-control. + +They were wasting their few hours, that tiny margin left to them, on a +dish called “_les jeunes demoiselles_,” a careful preparation of +shell-less craw-fish in a cream sauce. Kitty’s eyes rested on Anthony +for a moment, but only with the genial audacity with which they passed +on to Henry. They had no message for him. She acquiesced in the _jeunes +demoiselles_. + +A smart, good-looking man, whose attention had been riveted on their +table for some time, rose, and crossed the room to speak to Kitty. His +eyes had a look in them which was like the sudden assertion of a claim. + +“What luck!” he exclaimed as he reached them. “Who in the world would +have expected you here?” + +“And why not here?” asked Kitty, with a veiled challenge in her laughing +eyes. “It’s very jolly and comfortable and not unknown, I believe, as a +European resort. You know my father, don’t you? This is my +husband—Captain Arden. Sir Frederick Stair.” + +The claim in Sir Frederick’s eyes sharpened into incredulity. He turned +from Kitty to Anthony. Anthony met and returned his hard critical gaze. + +The two men measured each other, and Kitty, leaning back in her chair, +watched them with unconcealed amusement. + +Mr. Costrelle poured out a glass of wine imperturbably. The situation +appealed to him; he liked to watch Kitty handle a difficult moment. + +Henry cleared his throat. He was not sure that everything was quite +comfortable, and he was annoyed that Sir Frederick had apparently +forgotten playing bridge with him some time ago at the club. + +“Oh,” said Sir Frederick at last, with his eyes still on Anthony. “We +haven’t run across each other before, I think?” + +“We have not been particularly likely to,” said Anthony, a little dryly. +“I spent most of the war in a German prison.” + +“I was in Egypt,” said Sir Frederick. “A good deal going on there one +way or another. Where does one find you now, Mrs. Arden? I can’t afford +to have you disappear again. But perhaps you will be more permanent now +that you’re married?” + +“I don’t think I shall ever be awfully permanent,” said Kitty, closing +her long eyelashes together and then opening them suddenly. “We’re just +passing through town.” + +Sir Frederick’s eyebrows shot up. He was being dismissed, and he had not +expected dismissal. Kitty smiled at him. Her smile was reassuring to his +pride. + +Stupid things, her kind eyes said, had intervened. She didn’t like +dismissing him, either; but still she dismissed him. + +“I was fortunate,” he said politely, “to have caught even this glimpse.” + +Kitty gave him her hand. Mr. Costrelle mentioned his club. + +Sir Frederick threw back a very fine pair of shoulders, bowed stiffly to +Anthony, and walked away. + +He had been perfectly polite and he had shown Kitty no sign of +disrespect, perhaps he had been a shade more respectful than a man need +be to a woman for whom no other idea had ever occurred. + +“An odd coincidence,” said Mr. Costrelle, “Stair turning up to-day. I +shall now open the Château Yquêm.” + +He took up a small napkin and the best type of corkscrew in silence, and +with great precaution he first held and then detached the cork, handing +it round to each in turn to catch the perfume which clung to it; then +with unfaltering gravity he poured out the four glasses. The wine was +golden and as soft as honey; the dry fire in it had blended with the +ripening touch of time. + +They drank in silence and without a toast. Anthony raised his eyes to +Kitty, but she was not looking at him. She was smiling, but her lips +were grave. Some memory or perhaps some premonition held her. + +“I don’t think,” said Mr. Costrelle, slowly and gravely, “that you can +beat this wine now in England.” + +“The war has done a dreadful lot of harm,” agreed Henry, +sympathetically. “Priceless wine has been parted with—I believe +rashly—to Americans.” + +“People who can take wine like this across the Atlantic,” said Mr. +Costrelle, “deserve to drink nothing but their own raw grapes.” + +“It’s been simply awfully jolly, Papa dear,” said Kitty, drawing on her +gloves; “but I suppose we must be off. I’ve enjoyed myself immensely.” + +Kitty lingered in the lounge. She liked watching the throngs of people +passing in and out. The veiled admiration of the men, the covert glances +of the women, eased her heart. After all, it was her world. She had +succeeded in it. + +She said good-by laughingly to Henry and her father. Henry’s +appreciation of the lunch had brought Mr. Costrelle to offering him one +of his best cigars. + +“I’ll see you next week, I dare say,” Mr. Costrelle observed to Kitty. +“That dead pink is a good shade, especially with sable.” And to Anthony +he added, “You might perhaps ring me up sometime.” + +Henry shook hands warmly with them both. Anthony had, after all, done +nothing out of the way, and Kitty had been perfect—perfect, that is, as +another man’s wife. For Henry himself she would have had to be a little +toned down. + +When they were alone in the motor, Kitty turned to Anthony with +appealing eyes. + +“You didn’t mind awfully, did you?” she asked quickly. “You see, after +all, Tony, it _is_ the only kind of thing I know how to do.” + + + CHAPTER XXVII + +For the last three days before the operation Anthony had succeeded in +warding off from Kitty any fresh attack of pain. He had studied her with +an absorption as acute as the absorption of personal consciousness in +the presence of mortal danger. All his senses had been alert to forewarn +and protect Kitty, and he had accomplished the temporary miracle. + +After the luncheon party, Anthony noticed with alarm that she showed +that peculiar physical restlessness which is often the forerunner of +severe pain. He made Kitty go to bed, and sat beside her hour after +hour, soothing and quieting her. Peckham had been invaluable; she had +brought out various garments of Kitty’s for correction and comparison. +She had been full of stories of Kitty’s childhood, and questions about +their going abroad. It had been settled that as soon as Kitty recovered +from the operation they were to go to Spain. + +At last Anthony had left her quiet and apparently asleep. He went into +the dressing-room next to hers, leaving the door open so that he could +hear her turn or sigh. He felt that he must be alone for an hour. All +these days his mind had been taking bitter account of the symptoms +ranged against him. + +This was his hour of reckoning. He knew that he had done all that was in +his power; he had given Kitty a respite before the operation, but he +could do no more: the disease was progressive and inexorable. Anthony +saw with a terrific clarity the force of all that was against him. The +symptoms of Kitty’s case came on against his mind like the resistless +impact of waves. If he succeeded in beating the first line of breakers, +the limitless ocean heaved up a further challenge. His puny strength +would spend itself against them in vain; sooner or later the sea would +overwhelm them both. + +It was too late to save Kitty. Anthony did not need Hilton Laurence’s +verdict; something in his own heart suddenly failed him. He saw that he +had done his utmost in the last few days, and that his utmost was worth +nothing. He wondered fearfully, if he had been a younger man, untried +and undaunted by experience, could he by mere audacity and blindness +have snatched Kitty back from disease? Suffering is not a school of +strength; it is a school in which one learns one’s weakness. + +Anthony knew what he could bear, and to that extent knowledge freed his +mind; he was not surprised by the weight of pain. He was too used to it, +but he was incapable in his turn of surprising pain. He had learned not +only his powers, but his limitations. Facts entrapped and hampered him. +He was aware of the frailness of his mind; strung to too high a pitch, +it would not give him any reassurance of its capacity. + +Ever since the early days of Anthony’s captivity darkness had broken in +upon him from time to time and shaken the steadiness of his mind. He +knew the only thing to do was to wait till it passed, to keep before his +eyes the fact that the darkness was from outside and impermanent, and to +hold to the integrity of his unflinching will. + +In the long run, what Anthony had decided to do he could do; he could +not attain the desired result, but he could force himself step by step +to take the right direction toward the result. He held to his will now, +but he was aware that the struggle was harder. He needed more for Kitty +than he had ever needed for himself. + +He steadied his mind to confront the future. He wanted to envisage the +whole course of Kitty’s case. He had to put out of his mind the +insistent pictures of the operating-table, the arrangements he had made +with Hilton Laurence, the minute preparations and precautions for the +actual hour. The details kept rushing at him like delusive lists of +uncompleted purchases. He knew there was no need for him to keep them in +his mind, but they flickered to and fro, taunting him with his +fallibility. + +Suppose he forgot something important, something vital? Kitty depended +on his memory, and his memory was outrageously tired. It played Anthony +tricks to show him how tired he was, and then with a gloomy clearness it +reiterated a string of details none of which he needed or could control. +He did not want to use his memory now. He wanted to get beyond it to +some point of decision. If he could not save Kitty, what should he do? + +If he let things take their course, Anthony saw exactly what would take +place. There would be the operation, a tedious, dangerous business, +which must in the nature of the case be left incomplete. Moment by +moment Kitty’s life would hang by a thread. Hilton Laurence would hold +the threads. Anthony could trust the task to him; he was a masterly +operator with a thorough, placid mind. He had been known in moments of +great tension to hold the ends of a severed artery together and tell a +funny story to relieve the nerves of his audience. Probably Hilton +Laurence would safely disentangle and keep together the threads of +Kitty’s life. She would, what is called, get over the operation. + +Her left arm would be powerless for a long time. She would suffer +again regularly and without strength the onslaughts of atrocious +pain. Kitty would very gradually get better up to a certain point; +then she would stick for perhaps two or three months; then the little +innocuous-seeming, deadly signs of a return would start up. The disease +would be very quick on its returning pathway, and, short of the mercy +of an accident, it would be very dreadful. + +Words from “The Duchess of Malfi” haunted Anthony’s mind: “her death a +hideous storm of terror.” Was that all he could do for Kitty? + +It wasn’t any use fighting for her life. The question was a smaller one +than that—he was only fighting for time. Fighting for life, with every +symptom set plainly against you, was only fighting for a convention, an +idea. But this convention was a sacred one to Anthony. + +It was a professional necessity, a point of honor to prolong menaced +existences. It was not a real necessity; because, unlike real +necessities, he had in his hands the power to evade it. Nor could +Anthony delude himself with the mercy of an accident. He had no talent +for self-delusion, and he had seen too many cases where there were no +accidents. + +If all he wanted was to save Kitty, why couldn’t he still save her by +letting her go? Why force her through a year of misery, with its +shadowed horror at the end? Why not now, on the top of the course of her +momentary security, grant her freedom? + +But had he the right to let her go? She would have let herself go +without a qualm—it was only her confidence in his love, her pity for +him, which held her back. But who was he to judge what was best for +Kitty? He could not see the sky for the stars, nor her body for her +soul. All his being was invaded by his tenderness for Kitty; there was +no desire in her which did not meet in him with a passion of response. +He did not know what she most wanted now; her reticent, shy spirit was +buried under all the haphazard promiscuities of her life. Kitty had +fenced it away not only from Anthony, but from herself. She had snatched +at the trivial to cover the eternal. + +He longed desperately at this moment of her great ordeal to stand by her +spirit, as he stood by her beleaguered body, and help it forth upon the +chartless seas. Was it fair to set this child soul free? Fear of her +anguish and her mortal struggle bit deep into his heart, but he had a +deeper fear, a deeper question, to which he found no answer. + +He sat torn with his indecision; then he heard her voice murmuring, +“Tony! Tony!” and went back into the lighted circle of her room. + +The room was full of flowers and shaded wax candles. Kitty sat up in bed +with long plaits of dark hair down her back. She looked like a child of +ten, a very frightened child. + +“Tony,” she said, “Tony, it’s the pain coming—” + +Her eyes fastened themselves on his with a look of shaken entreaty—then +they left him, to wander restlessly about the room, as if to hold and +keep all the safety of the inanimate things beside which her own +existence was so fugitive and insecure. + +Anthony gave her a slight sedative, and lay down beside her, taking her +hand in his. He felt his old power flow back into him to meet her +emergencies. He fixed his mind steadily upon Kitty’s pain, and held it +as the one point upon which his whole conscious being hung. He meant to +take her pain away, reduce it, and keep it from her. + +He had never yet succeeded in moving pain by his will; he had only +helped by his actual services to relinquish the grip of it. The +experiment he tried now was different. He determined literally to _take_ +Kitty’s pain. He felt as if in the room beside them there was another +strength more formidable than his own fighting for Kitty. + +He did not know what the power was, but he was aware of it to his +finger-tips. It seemed to be tearing at Kitty as desperate hands tear at +a wall between themselves and safety. It was as if the power in the room +wanted to take Kitty’s life to pieces in order that something behind her +life might escape. + +It did not occur to Anthony that this was a benevolent power, for +Anthony did not believe that there was anything behind Kitty’s life; he +was concerned only with what he saw, the inert and pain-stricken body +beside him. Kitty spoke no word; only her eyes moved—moved as the eyes +move of some one who is searching for something which they cannot find. + +It was an unhurried, implacable search. Kitty herself knew nothing of +it. She lay still with her small, stubborn mouth set to bear her pain, +and all her faith centered upon Anthony. + +For an hour the fight went on between Anthony and his unseen opponent, +and then suddenly he felt it relax; the power, whatever it was, had +withdrawn. Anthony knew instinctively that he had not conquered. This +had been a voluntary retreat; but it was Anthony, and not the retreating +power, who was exhausted. + +“I’m better,” Kitty said in a thin, flickering voice; “much better, +Tony. I’ve not been better so quickly for a long time.” + +Anthony did not answer at once. He was too aware of a swift, massive +pain set like a vise upon his arm and shoulder. He was astonished at the +violence of this sensation, but his reason quickly supplied a cause. He +had removed Kitty’s pain by hypnosis, and had weakened himself too much +in the process to be able to defend himself against the hysterical +reaction of his own body. + +He assured himself that he could not really have taken Kitty’s pain, but +he could, of course, really think he had taken it. This was the true +explanation, and not the delusion which suggested itself to Anthony, +that the power he had felt himself struggling against had agreed to +transfer the pain in answer to his own intensity. + +“Lie quite still, Kitty,” he said, “while I make you a cup of tea. You +want something to make you warm and comfortable after that attack.” + +“You’re awfully clever, Tony,” she murmured. “I want to ask you +something rather queer. You won’t mind, will you? What is there ahead of +me to-morrow if—if things don’t go right?” + +“They will go right,” said Anthony, quietly, lighting the spirit-lamp. +“I am quite positive of it, or I shouldn’t have suggested the operation. +What is it you mean exactly by—‘ahead of you’?” + +“Well,” Kitty explained, “you know, when you set out on a railway +journey, how quickly everything changes, and you don’t. What I mean is, +what will happen if nothing else changes, and you _do_? Or shall I just +be dead?” + +Anthony’s mind shot back to Tom. It was curious how he and Kitty claimed +with the same simplicity and without dread a prospect beyond mortality. + +Tom had felt it more solidly than Kitty, but neither of them had had +Anthony’s blank incredulity in the face of the invisible. How could he +believe what nobody could prove or see? And yet, since he had answered +Tom’s question, he had felt his skepticism shaken over and over again. +He was no longer sure that there was nothing else. + +“I used to think,” said Anthony, slowly, watching Kitty’s face as he +chose his words to meet her need, “that there was nothing beyond death, +that all our struggles and our troubles ceased automatically. I am not +so sure now. When I thought like that I hadn’t been in love. There was +nothing in my life that felt it wanted to reach beyond it. I can imagine +now something stronger than death. I don’t say there _is_ something +stronger, but I can imagine it. You see, I don’t know how to put it +quite, but since I’ve known you, I’ve cared, cared all round a lot more +for everybody. Before I only knew things from the outside. My work was +as good as I could make it, but I always stood outside it. Since I cared +for you, lots of me gets inside. It isn’t only liking to make a success; +it’s caring for a person. It’s you, Kitty, who have given me that +feeling.” + +“Have I really?” asked Kitty, incredulously. “How nice of you to tell +me, Tony. I should have thought I’d put you off. I’ve put off most +people. I’m awfully glad you care more because of me. I care, too; +that’s what rather upsets me just now. I’m not afraid a bit, but I do +feel sorry. I see now I must have done such a lot of harm not caring. I +don’t believe my doing all the things I oughtn’t really matters, do you? + +“But not having cared enough about the people I did them with, that’s +all wrong, and having hurt poor women who loved their men, that’s rather +awful, isn’t it? I don’t like to think of hurting people now I know what +being hurt is like. Besides, if there is a God, I suppose we’re all in +the same boat and part of Him; so the worst thing we can do is to hurt +each other, isn’t it?” + +Anthony nodded. He did not attempt to evade Kitty’s scruples. Brushing +aside truth did not seem to him a kindness. + +“We all do it,” he said gently, “some of us from being too strict with +our lives, so that we feel better than other people, and are worse, and +perhaps those who haven’t been strict enough—hurt as well. Because, if +you haven’t counted the cost, other people have to pay as well as you. +Still, you’ve paid a good deal by now, Kitty, and I suppose, if there is +a God, what matters most, is to have learned love and courage. I don’t +see anything else I want to carry on myself into another world, and +you’ve had plenty of those. If you do go out anywhere, you’ll take them +both with you.” + +Kitty drew his hand against her cheek. + +“I’ll take love with me,” she said, “now, Tony.” + +They were silent while Kitty drank her tea, then she said: + +“I’m awfully sleepy, Tony, but it seems such a waste of time to go to +sleep.” + +He bent over her and kissed her. + +“Go to sleep,” he said. “There’s plenty of time really for everything, +and it will make to-morrow better.” + +“To-morrow,” said Kitty after a little pause, “is just a sort of +adventure, isn’t it, Tony? It’ll be awfully funny if you and the monks +and Peckham and I all come out some day in the same place. Can you hear +the bell? They go and pray in the church at two o’clock.” + +Anthony listened from the open window. He heard very faintly the signal +of the monks for their first prayers. + +Kitty turned towards him, smiling, and she was still smiling when +Anthony saw that she was asleep. Anthony’s mind stilled itself, and +turned once more to meet its new ordeal. + +He had determined what to do. Just as he had taken her pain, so he would +take her life; he would take everything that menaced her, and dispose of +it. It did not matter what the consequences were or what the risk; they +would fall upon him and upon him alone. Kitty should go forth upon that +great adventure freed of her pain and of the long year’s waiting. + +Anthony was intensely sure of himself now, and he was aware of nothing +else with which he had to reckon. + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + +Kitty slept placidly till six o’clock. She was not aware of Anthony’s +leaving her or of his whispered conversation with Peckham at her door. +She woke to a bright fire and her morning tea with a sense of unusual +security. Peckham always lit her fire early and brought her tea, but +that was usually after a bad night, and this had been a good one. +Kitty’s arm and shoulder felt numb and stiff from the recent attack, but +mere discomfort was a small thing after acute pain. It was a minute or +two before Kitty remembered that the day held a new experience for her. +Her nerves rose unfalteringly to meet it. + +“Well, Peckham,” she said, “is it a nice day? Am I to have nothing to +eat, just when I’m hungry?” + +“That’s Captain Arden’s orders, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, firmly, “and +I don’t need to have starched caps and aprons to carry them out. It’s +not many gentlemen would have been wishful to do their nursing +themselves, with me by way of being hands and feet to them, when they +could have had all the certificated sisters, or whatever they call +themselves, and welcome. If I’d been his mother, Captain Arden couldn’t +be more considerate of my feelings, and I can’t say a word to thank him, +Miss Kitty. I should say Ma’am, for fear of not looking like flint, the +way the young ladies do in the hospitals.” + +“Dear old Peckham!” said Kitty. “I’ll tell him you’re pleased. Is the +cook down-stairs giving him a good breakfast?” + +“I dare say he’ll be able to eat it,” said Peckham, dubiously. “I don’t +wish to say anything about other people’s servants at a moment like +this, Miss Kitty; I will only remark that they mean well and leave it at +that. The h’omlette the cook made him last night looked trod on, and the +tweeny maid wears corsets that pinch her to the bone, and scamps her +work according, as well she may. Only one cup of tea, please, Miss +Kitty, Captain Arden says, and then to lie still till he comes up to +you. You’re not to have no hair pins in, and stockings you must. I wish +I could have gone in with you, my dear lamb, but the captain says he’ll +take care of you there himself.” + +“Pooh!” said Kitty, “I sha’n’t need any taking care of. Don’t make faces +at me, Peckham. I know you want to say something religious to me, and I +don’t like religion first thing in the morning. Have you brought in the +lace cap with the butterflies on and my best lawn nightgown? I’ll wear +my blue satin dressing-gown with the old lace collar.” + +“I ironed the butterfly cap last night, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, +severely, “though I must say I think it out of place, butterflies not +being what you should call upon in a time like the present.” + +“I don’t know about that, Peckham,” said Kitty. “You’re no more likely +to suit eternity plain than pretty; rather less, I should think. +However, I’ll turn up here all right again, don’t you fret. I shall just +buzz off and then buzz back again, and don’t forget I want the paste +buckles on the blue slippers.” + +Peckham produced the blue slippers. + +“You stick to Captain Arden, whatever happens,” Kitty added; “he’ll take +care of you. Papa’s no good, poor old thing! I dare say he’d like to be, +but he’s like me; he has expensive tastes. Is that you, Tony? Come in +and see what I look like. It’s a pity you aren’t going to have more +doctors. I shall be rather wasted on only two of you.” + +Kitty laughed at him from the fireside. She stood there, blue and white, +like one of the June butterflies that haunt the down country. + +“You haven’t seen my post,” she said. “Henry has sent me pink roses, and +your mother a box of her own flowers, the flame-color cyclamen I love +so. It was too sweet of her. And here’s a wire from Daphne. ‘All love +and sympathy. Coming up to-morrow.’ Of course you must stop her; their +baby’s nearly due, isn’t it? But tell her I was awfully glad she wanted +to come; but I’ll tell her that myself, of course, later on. Your people +are most awfully nice, Tony. I’m not surprised—” Kitty broke off +suddenly. She was going to say that she was not surprised he had not +wanted her to know them, but it might hurt him to remember this now; so +she said instead: “I’m not surprised. You’re rather nice yourself.” She +looked up at him with the old provocative light in her eyes. + +Anthony drew her to an arm-chair by the fire. + +“I didn’t mean you to get dressed so soon,” he said gently. “Hilton +Laurence may be a little late.” + +He sat down opposite her, and Kitty drew a cigarette out of a long +silver box, lit it, and put it between his lips. + +“You’ll feel happier smoking,” she said kindly. “Men always feel so +stupid before things happen; they don’t know what to do with their +minds. It must be specially boring if they’re clever like you, Tony, +because then they expect to say such awfully good things, and no one can +say good things at last moments.” + +“I don’t know that I want to say anything good,” said Anthony; “but it’s +true there are things I’d like to say to you.” He spoke as unemotionally +as possible, but the words forced themselves out of him. + +[Illustration: _Like one of the June butterflies that haunt the down +country._] + +He could not let her go without a sign into the dark. She would never +hear or speak to him again, because before she had recovered from the +operation, when they had left Kitty in his care, he intended to inject +sufficient morphia to prevent her coming round. He had the syringe in +his pocket now, and as he looked across at her, his mind was registering +the weight of the moments which lay between her life and his action. + +“You do trust me, Kitty?” he asked her in a low voice—“trust me to do +what I think best for you?” + +Kitty laughed. + +“Oh, yes,” she said gently; “you’ll always do right, poor old thing. +Perhaps I might be afraid of what’s right, but I couldn’t be afraid you +wouldn’t do it.” + +“You needn’t be afraid, Kitty,” said Anthony, holding her eyes. “I +should do what was wrong without hesitation if I thought it could help +you.” + +“That’s nice of you,” said Kitty, appreciatively. “I like people to say +they don’t mind what they do for me; but, still, don’t do wrong. It +would only make you feel uncomfortable. I shall get on all right. D’you +like my buckles?” + +Anthony said he did like her buckles. + +The room seemed full of the clumsiness of great moments. There was so +much that lay unachieved between them, everything, except the slender +thread of their strange tenderness. Anthony found that he could say no +more; his heart was dumb. He took her in his arms and kissed her. He was +intensely aware of her life, of the response in her, the supple +sweetness of her youth and its surrender; and deeper still he was aware +that his own strength, which he held back for the sake of her frailness, +was as incomplete to hold or protect her as if he had been a cripple. + +Her slight, delicate body dragged at the root of his being. Her eyes +smiled into his, sunny, dauntless, challenging eyes, as laughing as an +open stream. + +“There,” she said, “off you go to meet your old wise men. Don’t worry +about me. It’ll amuse me to think of all the funny things that may be +going to happen in another half-hour.” + +Anthony forced himself to leave her, but his whole being resisted his +will. He felt himself one with Kitty; to go from her was like falling +over a cliff. + +He guessed by the slam of the front door that Hilton Laurence had +arrived. He bent his head to meet her lips and left her. It was a cold, +black morning. The little, empty room Anthony had arranged as a theater +was very hot and light, a large fire burned at red heat, and all the +lights were on. + +“You’d better have a pick-me-up,” Hilton Laurence observed to Anthony +after they had made their brief arrangements. + +“I don’t need one,” said Anthony, quietly. “Shall I fetch her?” + +Laurence nodded. + +“It’s a rum job not having a nurse,” said the anesthetist, fretfully. “I +do dislike innovations in an operation case.” + +“Oh, well, as long as your tools are handy, and you have a man with a +head on to stand by you,” said Laurence, cheerfully, “it’s all the same +in the end. Nurses have a nice look and save a good deal of bother, +especially with a nervous patient. But this isn’t a nervous patient. +She’s had a lot to fight through, poor little woman!” + +“For a long job like this, chloroform is the most satisfactory,” said +the anesthetist. “However, we can start with a mixture and see how she +stands it.” + +The amazing vision of Kitty broke off their conversation. She had never +looked prettier in her life. The long, blue gown, the butterfly cap, the +delicately reddened lips, brought out the intensity of her great, dark +eyes, alive with spirit and laughter. She wrinkled up her nose as she +entered. + +“You poor old things! how hot you have made it for yourselves!” she +said. “I shall soon be the only comfortable person in the room.” + +She shook hands with Laurence and the anesthetist, and with a quick +movement sprang sidewise to the table, swinging her feet toward the +floor. + +“You didn’t think I could do that with one arm in a sling, did you?” she +asked gaily. “That’s the advantage of being light.” + +Her breathing came as swiftly and easily as a child’s. Anthony stood on +one side of her, his hand on her wrist, and the anesthetist on the +other. + +Her eyes smiled across the table at Hilton Laurence, and then closed. +She opened them as the anesthetist, satisfied by his examination, began +to give her his last directions in soothing professional tones. Her lips +curved in a faint mocking smile. She looked away from him to Anthony; +behind the laughter in her eyes was a sudden gleam of reassurance. It +was as if her spirit gathered itself up together and called to him not +for help, but to give him help. She had never said in words that she +loved him, but her eyes said it now, definitely, completely, without +wavering. Then they closed finally and did not open again. + +“She’s off like a bird,” said the anesthetist, with satisfaction. + +Hilton Laurence reappeared from behind a screen ready to begin his task. +No one spoke for a time. + +Then Anthony became aware that there was another presence in the room. +It was the same power he had fought the night before. + +It filled the room with a strange, preliminary tension before it began +to act. + +Anthony’s outer attention was fixed upon Laurence’s needs, but his inner +faculties concentrated to encounter this new element. As he did so, he +discovered that the whole force of his centered will was useless. Hilton +Laurence and his unrivaled skill, the anesthetist and his intent +watchfulness, were nothing against this unseen power; they were blown +before it like leaves in a wind. + +In a moment of terrible despair Anthony felt himself flung back and +beaten before the battle had begun. The unseen force had swept them all +aside and broken its way into the life of Kitty. There was a moment of +suspense, and then as quickly as his despair there shot into Anthony’s +brain an amazing and sharp relief. + +He knew in a flash that this power was not an enemy. It was true it tore +to pieces the husk of the beloved life, but mercy was at the root of the +destruction. It was tearing her to pieces because the pieces were in the +way, life itself was in the way of Kitty; and Anthony became aware that +what he thought was his enemy was an immense reinforcement. + +Once more he centered his will in the struggle, but he went with the +stream now and no longer threw his impotence against it. + +He alone was aware of the unseen power, but he saw the others moving at +its bidding. + +Anthony knew what had happened to Kitty before the eyes of the +anesthetist had caught the sudden change. He leaned forward and said +quietly—he heard the words slip out into the room without effort or +excitement—“She’s gone.” + +Hilton Laurence, bending over a severed vein, said: + +“Nonsense! my dear chap, keep your head. She’s as right as rain.” But he +looked up sharply as the anesthetist cried: + +“By Jove! he’s right! She’s gone!” + +Anthony stood by them curiously unconcerned, while Laurence and the +anesthetist tried one after the other their useless remedies. He obeyed +their flung directions automatically, threw open the window, drew out +the oxygen-cylinder, and filled it; but there was no flicker of a +response. + +He had prepared everything. Nothing had been forgotten or overlooked, +and all the time they used their ineffectual, puny efforts over Kitty’s +little broken body, Anthony felt his heart singing within him. They +could not set back the clock. Kitty had escaped them. She was no longer +there. + +Swiftly, simply as the lift of a gull’s wing, she had flown, and not for +anything in all the world would Anthony have recalled her. + +After a time Hilton Laurence turned away from the table. + +“I’m awfully sorry, old boy,” he said defensively. “You see for +yourself, don’t you—it’s no damned good?” + +“I’m sure I don’t understand it,” said the anesthetist more defensively +still. “I took every precaution. I’ve never had a case slip like that +before. It’s most disconcerting. I needn’t say, Arden, I’m most terribly +sorry.” + +They stood looking at Anthony like school-boys detected in crime by the +head-master. Anthony turned away his face so that they could not see the +triumph in his eyes. + +“Of course you did everything,” he said reassuringly, “everything you +could. I am perfectly satisfied that nothing could have saved her. The +lungs were not working properly, and the heart couldn’t carry on. It was +always a risk, but I feel we were justified in trying it.” + +“More than justified,” said Laurence in a relieved tone. “In my opinion +it would have been criminal not to have tried. I am most thankful, my +dear boy, you can see it all so sanely.” + +“I think I’ll carry her back into her room now,” said Anthony, +uncertainly. + +The two men stood aside to let him pass with his light burden. + +Peckham was standing by the bed in Kitty’s room. He laid her down +without speaking, and looked across at Peckham. + +“She’s all right,” he said gently; “more all right now than we could +ever have made her, Peckham.” + +Peckham bowed her head. + +“Yes, sir,” she murmured between her sobs. “I felt she was going to be +took. She do look just as she did, poor lamb, when she was a little +girl, sir. One couldn’t, if I may say so, take her naughtiness to heart, +and I can’t go for to believe the good Lord will be any harder.” + +Then Peckham left him. + +He was alone now with his wife. She was broken like a toy by the hand of +science to which he had entrusted her. All his desires were frustrated +and his endeavors destroyed. He had not even saved Kitty. Something else +had intervened to save her. Anthony was not aware of this power now; the +unresponsiveness of death closed down on him. + +His eyes fixed themselves on Kitty’s little lace cap made in the shape +of butterflies, and this last futility broke his heart. + + + CHAPTER XXIX + +Grief slows all the processes of time. To Anthony it might have been +weeks that he had been alone with silence in Kitty’s empty room, and yet +it was only two hours before Henry, calling to inquire for Kitty, became +aware of what had taken place. + +Henry was aghast to discover that nothing had been done. He had not been +telephoned for. Anthony, though a doctor, had ignored the urgencies of +death. + +Peckham, who had made tea twice, but never even knocked at Kitty’s door, +had received no instructions. Anthony remained for two hours, +“apparently,” as Henry said to himself, “brooding.” + +Henry always considered time spent upon thought as “brooding,” unless it +was accompanied by paper, a writing-table, and ink; then it became +thinking. + +When Anthony came down-stairs, Henry was surprised to observe no outward +change in him. He bore none of the marks of grief, and he was uninclined +to speak in a hushed voice. + +Henry came forward with an outstretched hand. + +“My dear fellow,” he said in a low tone, “I am shocked and distressed +beyond words.” + +Of course Henry was not distressed beyond words. Words did very nicely +for him. He was, as a matter of fact, intensely relieved. + +Providence had acted, as it could only occasionally be relied upon to +act, with considerable tact and promptitude. + +Perhaps the promptitude was a little overdone; six weeks later, +considering the date of the marriage, would have been less startling and +no less convenient. But Henry was prepared to overlook this slight lapse +of taste on the part of the higher powers in view of the fact that they +had carried out his main intention. They had got rid of Kitty. + +Henry was not, however, in the least prepared for Anthony’s saying in an +offhand tone: + +“Yes, I suppose it was the best possible thing, really,” quite as if he +were answering Henry’s thoughts and not his words. Henry was sorry for +Kitty, he had been charmed by her, and he was readily sorry for those +who were capable of charming him; but the fact remained that Kitty was +not respectable and that all Ardens married respectable women. Now that +Kitty was dead, he thought it would have been better taste on Anthony’s +part not to refer to her disabilities. To admit death as a solution was, +Henry felt, a direct slur upon Kitty. + +“Let’s have something to eat,” Anthony unexpectedly suggested. “Peckham, +have you got some tea hot for us?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Peckham, fluttering, but justified. “It’s in the +dining-room now, sir, and an egg, if you could face it.” + +“I’ll eat anything you’ve got,” said Anthony with conviction. He did not +even have to be tempted. + +Henry felt a little bitterly how much more devastating grief would have +been to him. He had had his lunch two hours earlier, and he did not want +tea now; though Kitty had only been his sister-in-law. + +“I thought, perhaps,” he said gravely, “I might be of use to you, my +dear fellow. There are certain things—” + +“Yes, I know,” interrupted Anthony, who was standing to eat his food in +a thoroughly uncomfortable, restless way by the door. “There are heaps +of things—telegrams, undertakers, the registrar. I’d be awfully obliged +if you’d do them for me. Hilton Laurence said he’d look in and help +later. I want to go out for a walk.” + +“People will expect to hear from you direct,” suggested Henry, who did +not think that widowers should go for walks before the funeral. + +“Sign my name, do anything you like,” said Anthony, hastily. “She hadn’t +any wishes. Will you see Costrelle for me? Don’t interrupt his bridge; +he plays between five and seven-thirty.” + +“On an occasion like this—” said Henry, severely. He was going to give +up his own bridge. + +“Yes, yes, I know,” said Anthony, hurriedly; “but Costrelle doesn’t +think in occasions; he won’t like being interrupted. It’s awfully good +of you, my dear old chap, to do these things for me. I think—I think I +must get out.” + +“There will be certain questions which you alone can decide,” said +Henry. “When shall I expect you back?” + +Anthony looked for the first time as if he was a little changed. He +fumbled perceptibly for an answer. + +“I don’t know what time it is now,” he said jerkily, and without waiting +for Henry to tell him he walked out into the hall, shutting the door +after him. + +The day had grown unexpectedly mild and sunny. Anthony walked listlessly +and without any definite direction. He wanted to get to some open space +where people would cease to pour past him like part of a great +procession. He found himself at last by the river. The light lay faint +and thin over its gray waters, gleaming with a pale, transparent silver +upon the distant towers of Westminster. The huddled, low waterside +houses looked full of the stubborn comfort and unconsciousness of +England. Westminster brooded high and bright above a flock of little, +ugly dwelling-places. There was no background to the ancient river but +the smoke from factory chimneys and the low, dim sky. + +Anthony was not aware of his grief, but he was aware of a great desire, +a compulsion of his inner being, to get away from all pity and +arrangements. He wanted to place between himself and Kitty’s death a +host of less immediate objects. + +The towers of Westminster rested him, the rocking motion of the motor +buses, passing like broad-sided ships down the stream of the open +thoroughfares, lulled him. The slow pressure of the river upon its +unhurrying journey to the sea placed a merciful image between his +thoughts and Kitty. + +Time stood still. The hours hung on Anthony heavily with the weight of +years. + +As he leaned over the bridge and watched the long, slow ripples pass his +thoughts unnumbered, he felt eternity. The sun sank into the misty west; +there was a faint deepening of color and light along the Embankment. +Five white swans rose on massive wings high above Battersea Bridge; they +slipped dazzlingly across a path of light into the darkening sky, taking +the day with them. + +Twilight slipped gray and blue in long lanes between the shadowy houses; +the lights at the street corners had misty haloes round them, like a +cloud-encircled, opal moon. + +Anthony became aware of an overwhelming physical fatigue; it was so +intense that, despite the chill of the falling night, he sank with +relief on to one of the benches. It was empty, for it was too early for +the prowlers of the night to seek their rest there, and too late for the +belated children playing their last games. + +Anthony could no longer see the river, but he was aware of it moving +quietly beside him in the dark. It seemed to help his mind to turn +slowly and without pain back to the thought of Kitty. He reflected what +a wonderful and easy chance his life would afford a cynic for laughter. +Only a few years ago his career had been so shapely and definite a fact. +He knew what he meant to do, and he had the means and the ability with +which to do it. He was as sure of his surgical powers and his unshakable +nerve as of the continuity of bread upon his table. He had no bad +habits, no overmastering temptations. His life was a clear and steadfast +plan, and in due time, with substantial success behind him and ripened +ambition for the future, he meant to seek and find a fitting mate. + +He laughed out suddenly into the dark. He was not that sane man now, +with his iron-like securities. He had lost the rapier-like decision of +the unbroken. His mind saw many issues, his will flickered at a choice +of opportunities, a long day’s work unstrung him like a delicate girl. +His memory was uncertain, his clean slate was written across with +undecipherable, lost activities. He was not sure of anything at all. + +And his love, that reserved and whole-hearted quality on which Anthony +meant to found a home, had been called out and wasted on a light woman, +happily dead. Destiny had applauded him for his equipment and then +destroyed it. + +And yet he was aware, sitting there in the dark and cold, with his +weaknesses and his great grief, that he would not for anything in the +world be the old Anthony, secure and hidebound, moving with blind +assurance among infinite things. The old Anthony had been a master of +material facts; he had not been a servant of reality. Broken and twisted +and sore, unsure of his aims, diffident of his remaining powers, Anthony +knew that there was nothing in him that reserved itself for its own +purposes. + +He could meet all that came with his naked new possession. The old +Anthony had given his faculties only to his work; he himself remained +aloof, fastidious, and unused. He had been imprisoned in a fortress of +privilege. + +An unseen hand had plucked him out of it, and plunged him into a +fettered, dreadful intimacy with miserable human beings, so that he +should learn the reality of pain. Pain had taught Anthony his own +insignificance and broken a little of his isolation away from him. +Anthony had given more of himself than he knew to his fellow-prisoners, +but he had not given all. His sympathies were touched and widened, but +his heart remained intact. He could still blame men for their +weaknesses. + +He thought of his return to England, and how its beauty and serenity had +rebuilt him. But he was not the same again; there was more that was +accessible in him, or he would never have known Kitty. + +She would have been to him either what she intended to be, a few weeks’ +amusement, or perhaps merely a fresh peg upon which to hang his measured +morality. It would have been so easy for the old Anthony to have +dispensed with Kitty. But his new responsiveness to pain had saved him +from this ignoble security. Her need had called to him, and his whole +being had rushed out to answer it. + +Kitty had taken from him one by one his old immunities. She had shaken +him with a passion so vivid that he saw his code as a little thing, and +she had roused in him a tenderness that was stronger than any +self-control. She had not done these things of a set purpose; she had no +purposes. She was one of the instruments of life. + +She could not give him the completeness of love because love’s +completeness had been defaced in her, but out of the shattered gifts and +images of their hours together she had left him one changeless memory: +Kitty had never blamed or judged a human soul. + +From her father to the vicar’s wife she absolved them all. All women +were her natural enemies before their faces, but behind their backs she +was their indignant advocate. She could even stand up for the +self-righteous with a whimsical admiration. Anthony remembered with a +pang of shame how easily and quickly she had let him off his own +rigidities. + +He had felt his rigidity was his strength. Even now he was aware of the +loss of it, with a certain sense of formidable exposure; but he was no +longer afraid of the exposure. + +He did not want to get out of anything until he had taken with him the +comradeship of what was in it. + +Kitty’s little, narrow life was like the foam of a wave. It had been +lived for pleasure; and, miscarried by the wind, had broken itself +against the iron rocks of life. + +Anthony’s wider being was like the force and purpose of the waters +beneath; but for a moment the powerless foam had lit it onward and +enlightened its purposes. + +Kitty had not changed the direction of Anthony’s life, but she had +changed the angle of his vision. She had told him that she was only an +atom of dust dancing in a sunbeam, and that when the light went, there +would be nothing left of her but dust. It seemed to Anthony that it was +the dust that had gone, and left him with the memory of light. + +A cold, wet wind rose from the river, cutting against his weariness. He +shivered, rose, and set his face toward home. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER NOTES + +Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple +spellings occur, majority use has been employed. + +Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors +occur. + + [The end of _A Servant of Reality_ by Phyllis Bottome] + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79009 *** diff --git a/79009-h/79009-h.htm b/79009-h/79009-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06ac8bf --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/79009-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13339 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <title>A Servant of Reality | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/> + <meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" /> + <meta name="DC.Creator" content="Phyllis Bottome"/> + <meta name="DC.Illustrator" content="Norman Price"/> + <meta name="DC.Title" content="A Servant of Reality"/> + <meta name="DC.Language" content="en"/> + <meta name="DC.Created" content="1918"/> + <meta name="DC.date.issued" content="1918"/> + <meta name="Tags" content="fiction"/> + <meta name="DC.Publisher" content="Distributed Proofreaders Canada"/> + <meta name="generator" content="fpgen 4.67a"/> + <style type="text/css"> + body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; 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+ } + .tdStyle2 { + padding: 2px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top;padding-left:29px; text-indent:-24px; + } + .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } + .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } + .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } + </style> + <style type="text/css"> + .poetry-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } + .pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + .literal-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } + .figcenter { max-width:600px; } + h1 { font-size: 2em; } + h2 { font-size: 1.5em; } + div.lgc { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em } + hr.tbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid white; + width:30%; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35%; + margin-top: 1.0em; margin-bottom: 1.0em; } + p { margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em; } + </style> + </head> + + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79009 ***</div> + + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='Book cover' id='iid-0000' style='width:95%;height:auto;'/> +</div> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'> +<img src='images/ill001.jpg' alt='Man and woman embrace' id='img01' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/> +<p class='caption'><span class='it'>In the Tower Room.</span></p> +</div> + +<div><h1>A<br/> SERVANT OF REALITY</h1></div> + +<div class='lgc' style='margin-top:2em;'> <!-- rend=';sb:2;' --> +<p class='line' style='font-size:small;'>BY</p> +<p class='line' style='font-size:x-large;'>PHYLLIS BOTTOME</p> +<p class='line' style='font-size:small;'>Author of “The Dark Tower,” “The Second</p> +<p class='line' style='font-size:small;'>Fiddle,” “Helen of Troy and Rose,” etc.</p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line' style='font-size:small;'>ILLUSTRATED BY</p> +<p class='line'>NORMAN PRICE</p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/logo.jpg' alt='logo' id='iid-0001' style='width:15%;height:auto;'/> +</div> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'>NEW YORK</p> +<p class='line'>THE CENTURY CO.</p> +<p class='line'>1919</p> +</div> <!-- end rend --> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='lgc' style='margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:3em;'> <!-- rend=';' --> +<p class='line'>Copyright, 1919, by</p> +<p class='line'><span class='sc'>The Century Co.</span></p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'> </p> +<p class='line'><span class='it'>Published, October, 1919</span></p> +</div> <!-- end rend --> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<div class='lgc' style='margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:3em;'> <!-- rend=';' --> +<p class='line'>TO</p> +<p class='line'>BETTY AND MAIDA</p> +</div> <!-- end rend --> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> +<colgroup> +<col span='1' style='width: 2.5em;'/> +<col span='1' style='width: 27.5em;'/> +</colgroup> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img01'>1.</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'>In the Tower Room</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img02'>2.</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'>Daphne pushed him back into his chair and knelt beside him</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img03'>3.</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'>He did not know what was left of him or what was Kitty</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img04'>4.</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'>There was no curtain left between Anthony and his pain</td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> +<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img05'>5.</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'>Like one of the June butterflies that haunt the down country</td></tr> +</table> + +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony Arden closed his eyes; he +was trying to let the unutterable misery +of two years slip from him. It was over; it was +all over, as over as an extracted tooth, but he +could not yet feel relief or exultation. These +feelings must come later, when he saw England. +When he closed his eyes he escaped seeing +the very fat, red neck, passing without +gradation into the round-shaped head of his +German guard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In two hours he would be over the frontier +into Holland and have no guard. He kept +saying to himself, “Free! free! free!” The +word sounded perfectly meaningless. Fears +assailed him; he was quite used to fears, ordinary +fears about food, vermin, a bullying +sergeant, or the collapse of a fellow-prisoner. +These were reasonable fears; the new kind +were not. They were too much like hopes; +they were really terrible.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had never been one of the men who collapsed; +but he knew all about collapses. He +had fought them as St. Paul fought with the +beasts at Ephesus.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He knew their beginnings, the ominous +vacillations of the will, when a man could wait +for a quarter of an hour before deciding which +foot to put his boot on. This would be the +prelude to a fearful lethargy. Anthony had +watched the restlessness of the driven body +before the mind suddenly ceased to drive it; +the rush and flutter of the helpless thoughts +till the interludes came; the blank spaces when +the thoughts subsided, and the thinker, exhausted, +overwrought, and trembling, would +appeal to him for drugs. Bromide was useful +if there was any tiding over to be done, +but too often it edged stupor with despair, +and one could seldom tide over the illimitable +seas of prolonged imprisonment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was a wonderful hand at keeping +people up. Even the Germans appreciated +his power, and as they had by that time +learned to prefer sane prisoners to mad ones, +they gave him all the drugs he asked for and +freedom to apply what other methods occurred +to him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had entered the war as one of the +fighting forces; but in another life, a strange, +safe, horizonless, dignified world, where men +thought and acted without compulsion and +knew next to nothing of fear, he had been a +rising young surgeon with an unshakable +nerve. He was the type of man who always +rises; he could absorb himself in his aims and +control his desires and yet escape the tyranny +of self.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The universe was his center; he was not the +center of the universe. He had no use for +emotions and was not easily put out. He +loved his home and went there very seldom. +He disagreed with his father whenever they +met, and wrote to his mother regularly once a +week, on half-sheets of paper, without telling +her anything.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne, his favorite sister, infuriated and +delighted him; he disapproved of everything +she did, and generally found himself helping +her to do it. His eldest brother Tom, he +never wrote to, seldom saw, and loved ineradicably. +Anthony would not have called +it “love,” neither would Tom; but neither +would have hesitated an instant to die for the +other. Tom had been killed. There was a +third brother, Henry, cleverer than Tom, who +fortunately had varicose veins. Owing to +this he knew nothing about the war except +what he was told and what he had gathered +from the newspapers. He had a flat in London. +Anthony was going there now.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>London! He didn’t really believe in it; +that was why he shut his eyes to see it better. +While he was a prisoner he had never dared +to make pictures he could see; that was one +of the ways in which men collapsed. They +got to seeing things; quite sensible things at +first, things that were there. Then they +started seeing things that were not. It was +always better to keep one’s eyes fixed on little, +every-day facts.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew that London was safe. +Zeppelins had done their best, aëroplanes had +touched London as a boy’s catapult drops +pebbles into a field. You had to hunt to +find the pebbles; the field remained placidly +unshaken.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne always slipped into her letters, +“Funny old London is just the same.” It +was one of the faults he used to find with +Daphne that she overlooked the essential, but +he had not known how realistic it made letters. +All his people had been wonderful about writing; +they had arranged it among themselves +so that somebody, even if it was only an aunt, +wrote to him every day in the week. And +they had thought of everything in the way of +parcels.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There had been six months’ hell first. Hell +is a place where you are forgotten by all you +love and remembered by all you hate. Fortunately, +this was at the beginning, when +Anthony had his self-control intact, except +for the first forty-eight hours. Anthony +hadn’t been self-controlled then, but he had +not expected to have his broken leg kicked. +It had startled him very much. He had resented +it, and they had hurt him. They had +hurt him so that when he remembered it he +began to tremble all over and to feel like ice. +It wasn’t the actual physical pain alone; it +was the cruelty and the surprise. It was +such a strange feeling, to be quite powerless +and hated, especially when one had lived a +particularly normal and kindly life and never +known anything about hate.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hate is such a funny, medieval little word, +like devil or hell; it means nothing till one +has tried it. When Anthony was a young +man and knew everything, and had learned +nothing, he had laughed at these little +medieval words. He had called them, rather +proudly, to his mother, “theological nursery +toys,” and she had said, “I wonder.” But he +wouldn’t have believed then that men could +cry like children, or stop crying and go to +pieces—utterly to little pieces before other +men’s eyes. He hadn’t supposed, either, +that other men could laugh at them or have +such cruel eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It had shot through him once or twice, during +those first six months, that he had believed, +actually believed, that people always behaved +like human beings. He might just as well +have swallowed the old story of Jonah and the +whale. It was much better afterward. He +himself had helped to make it better; he +hadn’t realized his own struggles. It just +seemed very gradually to have got bearable; +and when it was bearable, he had discovered +that he was old.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All the top of his short, tight curls were +gray, he could walk straight with a very slight +limp, and hold his head up; but his keen, gray +eyes were not as steady as they used to be, +and if any one spoke loudly, he jumped, or +if they moved near him quickly, he flinched +like a beaten dog. Yes, he knew all about +hate, and when the letters and the parcels +broke through, and he found the other world +still existed and he was remembered, passionately +remembered and loved, just as if he were +alive, he learned something about love.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His mother ceased to be a not very clear-thinking, +extremely old-fashioned, middle-aged +lady who had lived in the country all her +life, and who would keep asking him to go +to church; she became instead a steady hand +to hold on to in a darkened room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And as for Daphne, incapable, inconsequent, +and most flirtatious Daphne, who forgot +everything and never answered any one, +and was always doing what she had much better +not, and suggesting you should bear the +consequences of it because you were so sensible, +he couldn’t have told any one what Daphne +meant to him. She never forgot a post, and +knew mysteriously the very moods in which +he would meet her letters, and she would go on +being just what she always was, only regularly. +Her very voice reached him, like a +lark singing under his window at dawn. It +was her letter he got first about Tom; he always +saw it in her words, but as if she had +first put her own heart between him and the +blow.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was incredible to him that he could once +have thought it a bore to go down to Pannell +for week-ends. The whole of his body and +all his being ached for home. Every night +for a few minutes before he slept, if sleep were +possible, he had allowed himself to think of +Pannell. First, the railway station “Boscott,” +with its blue lobelias picked out with +white chalk stones by Tuppins, the station-master. +Then Daphne with her hair half +down her back, because she’d driven the pony +in by herself and it “hadn’t exactly” bolted; +then, beyond Daphne’s hair and eyes, the line +of the downs, sometimes swathed in milky +mists, and sometimes very firm and velvety +under a fleet of flying clouds. Boscott was +a small village with yellow barns dropped in +a hollow.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Pannell Manor was in Pannell woods. +There was an open space for it, and the downs +rose up in front of it. The church had been +built at its gate, on a lawn with flitting shadows +of deer. The deer slipped delicately in +and out of patches of bracken. A wall separated +them from the smooth green terrace in +front of the house, but you could always look +over it toward the downs, and watch the deer +steal between the trees.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Pannell was an Elizabethan house, and the +front of it was a mass of tall, thin windows +shining out of old gray and yellow stone. It +had suited Tom to perfection. It made Anthony +sick to remember how it had suited +Tom. It would be Anthony’s now, and he +wasn’t a landowning type; he would simply +have to do what he could with it in the intervals +of his profession. Unfortunately, +Pannell wasn’t a place with which to do things +at intervals. It wanted the steady landlore of +a practical, unimaginative Sussex man. It +wanted Tom. It had always belonged to +people like Tom; slow, patient, good-natured +people who knew how to leave things alone +and never hurried anything except a fox. +The land would have to miss them for a generation +now, because most of them were dead.</p> + +<hr class='tbk'/> + +<p class='pindent'>They were at the frontier at last. Anthony +got out on to the platform with several +other men. They all looked dazed and a little +uncomfortable, and tried to pretend that +they knew how to move about on platforms +and get freely, without shouted directions, +into trains. Fortunately, the Dutch guards +helped them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They had very little to say to one another. +They lit cigarettes with shaking hands and +grinned nervously when they met one another’s +eyes. Of course they were enjoying +themselves awfully and weren’t afraid of an +accident on the train or the boat going down +or suddenly finding they were dying of some +acute disease, and couldn’t get home first. +It was absurd to suppose that they could have +such fears, for they were all quite ordinary +young Englishmen who had been in German +prisons only a few years. They were perfectly +all right, really; they had made a point +of saying this in all their letters home.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew exactly how they felt. He +advised them to get a drink, but they were +all too afraid of missing their connection, +which couldn’t start for half an hour. Anthony +forced himself to go into the waiting-room +and order a drink. He was very proud +of still being able to make himself do things, +and a little self-conscious about it. He had +forgotten the time when he wasn’t self-conscious +and never had to make himself do +perfectly obvious things.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They took the journey through Holland by +moonlight. The country stretched out in a +sheet of silver; water and land melted together +into a delicate mist. The windmills +moved across it like the black wings of +strange, inanimate birds. There were no +walls and no barbed wire; just wide-open +spaces, with a low, broad sky above them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They got on to the boat at midnight, and +some one said it was England already, for +boats were always England. There were a +few wives who had not been able to wait for +their husbands to reach England. They met +them shyly and without words; and afterward, +Anthony noticed, even though they were +together, they still had a look of stubborn +longing in their eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not going to be met at all; he +had arranged everything with Henry. He +would go to Henry’s rooms for a night and +just hear how everything was and be told +about Tom; that would make things easier +for his mother. He would go down to Pannell +next day; he had particularly said he +didn’t want Daphne to come up. He wanted +to get into things gradually.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There could be no possible danger of the +boat sinking; he told several fellows who asked +him that all the accursed mines were swept +away, the seas were free. They were English +and they were free. Of course he didn’t say +this, nor did the other men; they merely felt it +moving stubbornly in their hearts without +words.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony fully intended to go to sleep. He +had wired for a berth, and the other men were +quiet as mice; but he was under the impression +that none of them slept; they were all quite +ready to run up on deck if by any chance one +of the mines had been overlooked. His idea +had been to get up very early and watch the +cliffs creep close across the sea. He remembered +a poem of Macaulay’s which he had +learned as a boy—it was called “The Jacobite’s +Epitaph” and was a short reticent poem, +with a line in it which had always haunted +him,—</p> + + + <div class='poetry-container' style=''> + <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> +<div class='stanza-outer'> +<p class='line0'>By those white cliffs I never more may see—</p> +</div> +</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> + +<p class='pindent'>Well, he wanted to see them; but when the +boat arrived, England was lost in a blur of +rain. He saw nothing but a solid wall of +grayness rising up in front of him. The other +men were on deck very early, too; apparently +the same idea had occurred to them, but none +of them said anything about Macaulay’s +poetry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It took an eternity to get alongside the +wharf, and lots of accidents might have happened. +Nobody spoke except the youngest of +them, who had been in prison only a few +months, and he remembered that it would be +jolly to get a good hot cup of tea, and wondered +if they still made dear old moldy buns.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no cheering to greet them, because +they were not the first boat-load of prisoners +to reach England, and it was particularly +early in the morning. But there were +two trains waiting, small, comfortable English +trains that ran on velvet lines through an endless +expanse of wet, green fields.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Two hours later the London Terminus +closed on them like a large black shell. Nobody +took any notice of them; they weren’t, of +course, any different from anybody else, except +that they weren’t quite so smart at picking +up a taxi as people who haven’t been in +German prisons. They let opportunities slip.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was one of the first to get one. +He shook hands with several of the fellows +who hadn’t been specially met, and gave a lift +to a particularly bewildered looking boy who +had forgotten where he lived for the moment, +but thought they’d remember it for him at the +Oxford and Cambridge Club. He was very +proud because, although he had forgotten his +address, he could remember his own name perfectly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony wanted to explain to the boy that +they had got back into a world where people +were in the habit of remembering their own +names, and that they must try to appear as +much like ordinary people as possible. But +when Anthony began to explain, he was +brought up short, because he realized that he +himself couldn’t quite remember how ordinary +people behaved.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Just as the quick, organized traffic in the +streets was a dangerous blur to his unaccustomed +eyes, so were those old unconscious +ways of normal people a strange, a perilous +blur to his insecure and unaccustomed senses.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Fortunately, some one at the club did remember +the boy’s address, but there was no +one who could fill in the curious unexpected +gaps in Anthony’s hidden mind.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Civilization had gone to pieces, +but outwardly London looked just the +same. The winding loops of traffic weaved +their perpetual chain, checked by imperturbable, +blue policemen; picture palaces and public +houses, congested tubes and swinging +’buses, the long, blue shadows of the dusk and +the arched lights of the street corners, had no +new secrets to reveal. The husks of everything +Anthony saw were mercilessly indifferent +to change.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But surely the people would be different? +People cannot pass through hell and keep +their values of life the same; they cannot lose +security and not gain a certain spiritual significance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was startling to Anthony to find that +Henry had not altered at all; he did not even +look older. He lived in the same charming +rooms, full of old French china. Henry +could not afford good pictures, so he had very +wisely limited himself to excellent prints. +His books neither frightened the unreading +public nor shocked the cultivated. Henry +had kept an expensive cook, and during the +war by her help had evaded food difficulties +while keeping patriotically within his rations. +There was no track once beaten that Henry +did not follow; nor had he ever found it difficult +to believe what he knew to be generally +accepted. He shook hands with Anthony +with some emotion, and asked twice how he +was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“This is really tremendous,” Henry exclaimed, +“quite tremendous.” The situation +promptly dwindled under his qualifying adjectives. +“By Jove! what a lot we shall have +to talk over! How does it feel to be back?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t tell you yet,” said Anthony, sinking +into a luxurious arm-chair before the fire. +“Physically it’s comfortable. I’ve often +thought of this arm-chair.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry said, “My dear fellow!” deprecatingly. +He hoped he wasn’t going to hear too +much about hardship; he always skipped what +he referred to as “literary horrors” in the accounts +of war correspondents. “Things,” as +he often used to say without specifying what +things, “were quite bad enough without unduly +harrowing one’s feelings.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’ll have dinner in a minute,” Henry +continued cheerfully, “and then we’ll make +history. Of course I know everybody has +written regularly to you, but it’s quite extraordinary +how facts drop out one way or another +in correspondence—quite important little +facts.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t written everything back,” observed +Anthony in a queer, tired voice, which +sounded thick. “You see, I couldn’t—lots of +things. I couldn’t; but I dare say they don’t +matter now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I knew you’d take a sensible view,” Henry +agreed eagerly. “It’s no use raking over old +troubles, is it? I assure you we’ve all had +hardships to bear as well; air raids, for instance, +<span class='it'>most</span> unpleasant and so noisy. The +servants felt it a great deal. The one thing +that has kept me up during the last few years +has been the spirit of cheeriness. I’ve insisted +upon taking a bright view of things, and +I’ve found it paid; over and over again I’ve +found it paid.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You would find it pay,” Anthony agreed +after a short pause, looking round the room +with curious, inattentive eyes. “And none of +the china has been broken, has it? It seems to +me I remember all the pieces.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” Henry replied; “Mary is very careful, +you know. I shouldn’t let her touch +them if she wasn’t. Some of this is priceless.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quite right,” agreed Anthony. “Only being +careful doesn’t always prevent things +from being broken, does it? There’s an awful +lot of luck in what breaks and what doesn’t. +D’you mind, before we have dinner, telling +me what’s known about Tom?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony moved as he spoke, and crouched +forward a little over the fire as if he were cold. +Henry couldn’t see his face; he was privately +shocked at the thin, rather weak, and shaky +look of his restored brother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had not kept his spirit up; he had +lost smartness in a manner that, if it was pitiable, +was also annoying to a relative who had +been prepared to be proud of him. And it +showed a certain lack of tact upon Anthony’s +part to ask Henry about Tom before dinner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I expect,” Henry said in a grave, constrained +voice, which indicated deep feeling +without transgressing good taste, “you know +practically all there is to know already. +Tom was acting as Forward observing officer +in one of the woods on the Somme. It is a little +confusing, as no one actually saw what took +place, but they suppose a shell caught him and +his telephonist. The messages stopped, and +when they advanced they found the bodies. +The major wrote, of course, and several of his +brother-officers. Mother will show you all the +letters. Dear old Tom, he did his duty +like—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry stopped abruptly. He was going +to say a Briton or a hero; a burst of most appalling +profanity checked him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He stared blankly at the crouched and +blasphemous figure in front of the fire. Anthony +cursed steadily and monotonously for +several seconds. He seemed beyond his own +control; then he pulled himself together.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I beg your pardon, old man,” he stammered. +“I—I—my nerves, you know; that +was why I wanted to have my home-coming +over gradually. Don’t pay any attention to +me. I’ll be all right in a minute. What I +want to know is, How long was it between the +time they got Tom’s last message and found +the body? That’s all I want to know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have a whisky and soda,” Henry murmured +sympathetically. “Of course it’s quite +natural you should be upset; it would have +been better to go into all this after dinner. As +far as I can make out—the major was a little +vague—there were three days before they actually +found the body; but of course Tom was +killed instantly. All of them said so in their +letters. It was a great comfort to us to feel +that there could have been no actual suffering—my +God! Anthony! don’t laugh like +that! It doesn’t sound human; it really +doesn’t. Here, take this whisky and soda!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry had to force the glass between Anthony’s +stiffened lips. He was bowed and +contracted with his unearthly laughter. His +hands shook as if he were in an ague; his whole +body shook. Henry had never been in such a +situation in his life, and all of it was perfectly +unnecessary. Tom had been dead two years. +Then Anthony gasped out:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thanks. Yes, that’s what I wanted to +know—three days.” The whisky and soda +had quieted him. He stopped trembling.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mary came in and announced dinner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry asked Anthony considerately if he +would like to wait five minutes, but Anthony, +without any consideration whatever, replied +that he was as hungry as a wolf. He really +did seem very hungry, and ate like a wolf, but +he drank nothing. Henry heard him say in a +whisper that was perfectly audible:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I drink anything, I shall go to pieces. +If I drink anything, I shall go to pieces.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry looked anxiously at Mary, but her +eyes were intent upon a green vegetable, over +which she noiselessly readjusted one of Henry’s +solid silver spoons. Anthony did not +notice Mary at all, but in helping himself he +dropped the spoon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they were back again in Henry’s +drawing-room, Anthony moved restlessly +about and tried to pull the curtains to look +out of the window.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, my dear old chap,” and Anthony +sat down with a jerk, as if some one had pulled +him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know if you would like me to run +over the terms of Tom’s will,” Henry suggested. +“I suppose we must dip into business +some time or other, but perhaps—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Run over anything you like now,” said Anthony. +He leaned back in his arm-chair and +closed his eyes, but he wasn’t asleep. He followed +Henry’s excellent account of business +affairs with his old clear-cut attention. +Henry was greatly relieved at the questions +Anthony shot out at him. He went on to +speak of Pannell.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It wouldn’t be a bad thing if you were +home for a time to look after things,” Henry +suggested. “Father has lost grip. You’ll +notice a difference in him, and in mother, too. +The strain upon those who remained at home +has been greater perhaps than you fellows +quite realize.” Henry sighed a little reproachfully. +He wanted Anthony to understand +that he had not been the only one to suffer; +he felt that self-pity would be very bad +for a man of Anthony’s type. “I mustn’t +weaken him by my sympathy,” Henry reminded +himself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Anthony, without opening his +eyes. “If people realized it, it must have +been—I was going to say worse for them; but +mercifully we’re so built that what we don’t +see reaches only the most imaginative. +Knowledge and realization seldom meet. I +see that now. I used to believe, as a doctor, +that I knew something about pain; but of +course I didn’t. I knew as much about it as +people know of an earthquake shock from +reading about it in a newspaper. My nerves +were untouched.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I have always thought doctors must be +rather insensitive,” said Henry, complacently. +“Frankly, I have never been able to stand the +sight of suffering. I suppose things were +pretty rotten over there for you?” As Anthony +did not answer, Henry added tactfully, +“You must tell me all about it some time when +you feel more up to the mark, and things get +easier to talk about.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s eyelids flickered; the lines between +his lips and his mouth were deep as furrows.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was obvious that with his usual good +sense he agreed with Henry that it was better +to postpone the history of his captivity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Still, Henry did not want to postpone it +entirely. He was curious to be told something +about it—how many meals one got a day, and +what amount of exercises one was allowed to +take. He wanted to hear the kind of things +one could afterwards talk over comfortably at +the club with the other fellows.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony had lost the faculty of realizing +what was expected of him in conversation. +He didn’t follow the line of Henry’s thoughts. +He began abruptly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Those were awfully good cigarettes you +kept sending me. Wonderful what a civilizing +thing a cigarette is! Did some fellows +good, you know, just to look at them; kept +them up to the mark. ’Pon my word, I +shouldn’t wonder if it helped ’em to be +straight more than their prayers. What one +wants, you know, out there is some point to +hold on to, some point outside oneself. Religions +that push you inside yourself make a +shocking mess of it, and all religions do it too +much. What you want is to get out, no matter +how small the point you’re aiming at; then +you’re safe—I mean that’s your chance of +keeping sane. Of course it’s only a chance.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry cleared his throat nervously.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The Young Men’s Christian Association,” +he said, “has really done wonders in this war. +It is one of the charities I made a point of +backing up. I quite agree with you that the +social element in religion is extremely important. +The church has overlooked it shockingly. +I put down its comparative failure to +its inability to deal with its congregations socially.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony opened his eyes and stared at +Henry. He looked as if he did not know +what his brother was talking about. Apparently +he had not been referring to the church.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The door burst open.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t help it, Mary. No matter what +Mr. Henry said, I will see—Tony!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was in his arms; when he heard her voice +he had got up and felt for her as if he were +blind.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was Daphne; of course she had done exactly +what they had arranged for her not to +do. Her eyes blazed at him, fierce with tenderness; +he could hardly meet them. He felt +her arms tighten round him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, they’ve hurt you! they’ve hurt you!” +she gasped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony tried hard to hold himself together. +He kept telling himself that he +mustn’t make an ass of himself before Henry. +Daphne pushed him back into his chair and +knelt beside him, gazing at him with the piercing +eyes of mercy and love. There was no +use trying to hoodwink Daphne. She saw +what war had done to Anthony; she saw nothing +else.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry hovered ineffectually in the rear of +the situation; he tried hard to stop its being a +situation, but Daphne overpowered him. She +took no notice of the halves of inconspicuous +sentences which escaped from his lips except +to say, after a moment or two, casually over +her shoulder, as if he weren’t a member of his +family and her host, “You’d better go, +Henry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If Anthony had lifted his little finger to +keep him, Henry would have stayed—but +Anthony did not look in his direction either. +His lips had started trembling; he held his +elbow on his knee and his hand over his eyes. +Henry tiptoed out of the room as if he had +inadvertently strayed into a prayer-meeting.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne took Anthony in her arms again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, what have they done to you!” she murmured. +“They have eaten half your life.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then she began to cry terribly, and it gave +back Anthony all his self-control to see her +cry. He laughed at her, and patted the back +of her obstinately untidy curls. They were +just like his own, only made out of spun gold. +His had turned gray.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be a goose,” he protested. “It’s all +right now. Nothing’s the matter really. +I’m perfectly fit. Are you crying about me +or is it Tom?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you!” she sobbed. “Tom’s only dead.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll be all right soon,” Anthony reassured +her. “I’ll be just as usual in a little +while. All the fellows feel rather queer at +first, you know. You ought to be at Pannell. +I kept thinking you’d meet me there to-morrow. +I suppose they’re all right, aren’t +they? Henry would have told me if they +weren’t.”</p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'> +<img src='images/ill002.jpg' alt='Woman kneels in front of man' id='img02' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/> +<p class='caption'><span class='it'>Daphne pushed him back into his chair and knelt beside him.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes, yes,” said Daphne, quickly; +“everything’s quite all right.” Her sobs had +subsided now, and she searched through his +pockets to find the handkerchief she ought to +have had the sense to bring with her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Something’s changed?” said Anthony, +sharply. “What is it, Daphne? You’re hiding +something from me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no, not changed,” whispered Daphne. +“I’m not changed, Tony; only I didn’t mean +to tell you to-night. Don’t you see how old I +am, how monstrously, awfully old?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony studied her beautiful, radiant face +with keen, questioning eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve turned into some kind of grownup +woman at last, haven’t you?” he asked +slowly. “Hullo! what’s that on your finger?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said, “it is really. Isn’t it +funny? I can’t get used to it. I didn’t want +to be happy a bit by myself without you, but +he was in the Flying Corps, and I was so +anxious! We were married last June. I +made them all swear not to tell you. I censored +their letters for months for fear of its +dropping out. You see, I knew, if you were +with me, you’d be glad. O Tony, doesn’t it +seem wonderful! It’s over, and he’s all +right. I keep saying that instead of my +prayers all day. It’s over, and he’s all +right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony nodded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he said; “yes, I suppose so. It’s +over, and it’s all right, either way you look at +it, perhaps.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were silent for a moment, then she said +quickly: “Oh, Tony darling, Tom was killed at +once. Jim found out for me; I can prove it +to you. Tell me you believe me? You know +I wouldn’t rest till I found out. Jim went +over and saw the Major. You know I +wouldn’t lie to you. You do believe me, +Tony?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not looking at her; he was +looking straight into the heart of the fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he said in a perfectly level voice; +“yes, I believe you. I say—I say, Daphne, +d’you think Henry’d mind if I kept a light in +my room all night?”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony would not have admitted +that he had a creed, because he thought +creeds unscientific; but if you habitually act +up to certain unspoken principles, they become +dogmas. Anthony’s creed ran as follows:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Play your best whether you are likely to +win or not. Never let any one down for the +sake of your own convenience; never lie; face +disaster readily, even if you could by exercising +a little ingenuity evade your share of it. +Back whatever you believe in except your own +mistakes; own up to a blunder instantly without +the emphasis of egoism. Do not involve +other people in your actions, and do not be involved +by them, and let the end of your work +have the same quality as its beginning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was an excellent creed, full of self-respect +and armed at all points against the inroads +of reality; the kind of creed that gives a +man peace at the last, unless he has had too +bad a time in the interval. It had no mercy in +it either for himself or for others. Prison +shook it to its foundation. Anthony had not +allowed for a life that was a hideous nightmare +beneath the plane of self-control, or for a +moral chaos without rules. There was nothing +he could act upon; he simply suffered as +those under the harrow of acute physical pain +suffer, without horizon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Incidents in Anthony’s hospital career +flashed into his mind with a new meaning. +He remembered a woman dying in child-birth +who had told her agonized husband with unfaltering +mendacity that it wasn’t nearly so +bad as she had expected. Anthony had admired +her then, but he had not thought her +superhuman; he had believed that people +could always bear pain properly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The last words of a boy of nineteen crushed +in a street accident came back to him: “I don’t +want to live; it’s too cruel to care about.” +At the time Anthony had believed this remark +to be a proof of the lack of discipline in the +lower classes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He knew now that there are moments in +which it is a miracle to behave properly, when +life becomes simply too cruel to care about. +He felt that there was a power which sometimes +saved people at these moments, but +that it was not a virtue inherent in themselves; +and he lost a little of his self-respect.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The other prisoners taught Anthony that +kindness was more necessary than skill. It +wasn’t enough to do things for them; many of +them were beyond the more direct aids of +science, and even if they had not been, Anthony +had not the proper means for assisting +them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>What was necessary, if he was to be of any +use to his fellow-prisoners, was for him to involve +himself in their sufferings. It was precisely +what Anthony had made a point of +avoiding throughout his career. He had to +put aside his personal fastidiousnesses and to +overcome his love of independence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>At first the other men were afraid of Anthony’s +self-control, and they had left him +alone in consequence, and Anthony had to +destroy this salutary fear to which he owed his +privacy. Nothing but the fact that he hated +being useless gave him the courage to persevere. +He wanted to work. He did not love +his fellow-prisoners; they maddened him. +They had had codes, too, once, but either they +had not taken their codes so seriously as Anthony +had taken his, or their power of control +was slighter. They grumbled without ceasing, +quarreled readily, and were often disgusting.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Only one or two of them were really complaining, +quarrelsome, or disgusting men; +these were the things that happened to them +from outside, through the gigantic pressure of +adverse circumstance playing upon their unnourished +bodies. They could not help themselves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In time Anthony realized the power of adversity, +and it made it much easier to get on +with his fellow-prisoners; he saw that their +temper was no more to blame than their indigestion. +Even their vices, or their endless +references to vice, were merely like the outbreak +of a tedious delusion. The difference +between them and Anthony was that Anthony +<span class='it'>could</span> help himself. It ceased to be their self-control +that mattered; his became vital. If +that went, he could be of no use to anybody. +Anthony guarded his self-control as if it were +the elixir of life. He measured it out by +inches; when he felt it menaced, he retired into +absolute silence. It was the only thing he +could retire into; there was no space for solitude +except in his own soul.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a long and difficult task, and Anthony +never got to the end of it; but long before +he realized that he was succeeding, every +one in the camp came to him with their +troubles. They saw that he had a margin of +strength to deal with the affairs of other people, +and most of them had become men without +margins.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There were plenty of damaged bodies for +Anthony to treat, and added to these were the +more complicated cases, broken hearts, bad +habits, and the deadly collapse of the will. +These attacked Anthony’s inner citadel, and +found him at a loss for supplies. He tried +hard to evolve comfort for his patient from +his scanty spiritual stores, because he had discovered +that very unhappy men cannot live +without spiritual comfort even when they are +being half-starved. Men were going to pieces +because they missed religion just as much as +because they missed bread. It was even more +disintegrating. The religion that they missed +had no definite form; it was that of human +ties, traditions, and the obligations of love. +The prison rules did not take the place of these +obligations, nor did quinine act as a substitute +for love.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no give and take between their +former existence and their present one. They +could not send anything home except their +hopes, and after a time these were broken by +the endless monotony of expectation. Anthony +fought against despair as if it were the +German Empire. It became part of his profession. +He had always fought death as if it +were despair, and now he fought despair as if +it were death. But his methods had to be +more empirical.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll have a hell of a time if you don’t +keep straight,” he reminded his menaced patients, +“a much worse hell than if you do.” +But he soon found that this was not a successful +argument. Self-preservation has to be an +instantaneous need before it can resist despair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tradition was a better specific.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“After all, we’re Englishmen,” Anthony +urged. “We don’t want them to think +they’ve reduced us to behaving like pigs or +sinking into idiots. We’ve got to keep our +end up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But this stimulant wore out in time. There +was nothing fundamental in it; there is a +greater need of letting go under great pressure +than in preserving appearances. Men +ceased to care what anybody thought of them; +they even ceased to care what they thought of +themselves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was more successful when he appealed +to their feeling for their people at home.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We mustn’t go back spoiled,” he pleaded; +“we must pull ourselves together so that there +will be something to take back worth taking. +One couldn’t let one’s people down.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony often laughed at himself over his +own methods, they were so rough and ready, +and reminded him so often of the attempts at +religious reformations, which he had always +despised.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It takes more,” he said to himself, grimly, +“to make a good Salvation Army lass than I +should have thought possible.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And, after all, nothing answered for long, +nothing that Anthony could find to say. He +had no idea that what kept the tone of the +camp considerably higher than it would otherwise +have been was the quiet persistency of his +own example. Anthony planned his advice, +and it was good as far as it went; but his example +was spontaneous, and it went very much +further.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For two years Anthony fought in the dark +the battle of the soul in which he did not believe, +and now he told himself the battle could +stop. There was nothing else to fight against +except a few strained nerves. He could go +back to his proper work, the study of how to +heal the human body, a much more reasonable +and satisfactory adventure than how to keep +alive the human soul. He was still nervous, +and he did not feel happy yet; but that was because +he had the meeting with his people before +him, and the memory of Tom’s death standing +like a shadow across his return to Pannell. +The first few minutes would be difficult, especially +with his father.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Pannell meant Tom to Mr. Arden; the rest +of his family was only a pleasant and expensive +annex. He had built all his future, and +the future of his race, upon his eldest son. +Mr. Arden had never understood Anthony; he +did not see why any son of his should wish to be +a doctor. There was the army, the navy, the +civil service, the church, and the bar, ample +professions for any one with brains to find a +career in. Ardens <span class='it'>had</span> doctors; they didn’t +expect to <span class='it'>be</span> them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Arden told Anthony plainly that a surgeon’s +was not a gentleman’s profession. +Quite good fellows went into it sometimes +when they couldn’t afford better, but the +squire was prepared to do something better +than that even for his second son.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony had been obstinate about this +low taste for science. He had clung to it as +if it had been a barmaid, and there were moments +when the squire would have preferred +a barmaid; for it is easier to get rid of a woman +than of an idea. Anthony knew that he +had a painful struggle to face with his father, +for he had no intention of giving up his profession +for the sake of Pannell, and if science +was a blunder in a younger son, it would be +considered a crime in the eldest.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He thought perhaps it was because of this +impending struggle that he could not enjoy +the approach to Pannell. The velvety green +fields did not move him, nor the wide expanse +of the barebacked downs. He was nervously +aware of the passing stations, as if he wished +to retain them between himself and Boscott. +Daphne wouldn’t be there now; he had left +her with her husband. His first meeting with +this new brother-in-law had hurt him intensely. +Anthony had immediately liked Jim Wynne, +but he hadn’t got over the fact of the marriage; +it made him feel absurdly lonely, and as +if his return to his profession wouldn’t be the +final satisfaction he had expected. Of course +going to Pannell would make it all right if he +could overcome being afraid of rows. He’d +always rather liked rows before. His father +used to get hot over them, and Anthony used to +get cold. They said outrageous things to +each other, and neither of them ever came +within range of the other one’s arguments; but +there had been no fear on either side, and no +favor. Anthony was aware of fear now. He +did not want to hurt his father.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Boscott came, after all, with a rush. Anthony +saw his father’s face as the train drew +up at the tiny station before he recognized the +two tall young sisters who had shot up into +women during his absence. He reflected that +his sisters had grown, but they had not +changed. His father had changed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The squire shook Anthony’s hand with welcoming +vigor, and looked him between the +eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad to have you back, my boy,” he +said heartily; then he looked away suddenly, +as if he were seeing some one else.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The squire had determined to be cordial. +He had prepared the words all the way down +to the station, but he had not known what it +would cost him to meet the wrong son. And +then Anthony refused to drive Vixen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Please yourself, of course,” said Mr. Arden, +gruffly. “She’s a fine little mare, goes +like silk. You won’t have seen such a horse +anywhere where you’ve been.” The squire +did not wish to say the word “Germany.” He +considered the bare existence of such a country +indecent.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony kissed his sisters’ cool, firm cheeks. +They were pink with excitement and extremely +shy. They wondered if Anthony noticed +how grown up they were, and why he was +so terribly thin despite all their parcels.</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “We didn’t bring the dogs,” Ursula explained—“we +thought they would be too excited—but +Max is quite well.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Max was Anthony’s own dog, a brusque, unamiable, +and fanatically loyal Aberdeen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He simply hated your being away, you +know. He sleeps in your room regularly, because +he won’t sleep anywhere else, and he bit +Mary for cleaning it last week—not badly—on +the ankle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“A quarrelsome, bad-tempered, crotchety +cur,” Mr. Arden asserted, with restored good-humor; +“but your mother thinks the world of +him because he refused to eat for three days +after you left. The girls tempted him with +raw meat, and in the end he gave way to ’em. +But he’s borne a grudge against ’em ever +since.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That was awfully nice of you,” Anthony +said gratefully to his sisters. He would have +been ashamed to say how often he had thought +of Max during his captivity, and that he +hadn’t liked to ask how he was for fear of hearing +he was dead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your mother didn’t come to meet you,” +Mr. Arden explained as they seated themselves +in the dog-cart, and Vixen, after a +slight premonitory shy at the gate-post, +darted off down the long, white road like a +swallow. “I persuaded her not to. She’s +not up to much excitement nowadays, and of +course we’re not giving any celebration in the +village for your return. You’ll understand +all that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony nodded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was too early for the trees to be out, but +there was a misty look over the budding +boughs, and the tilled fields and woodlands +had already slipped from the hand of winter +and lay open for the visiting spring. The +white road stretched between the Pannell +woods and the Pannell farms, and straight before +them, as the road wound up toward the +low, soft skies, were the sloping shoulders of +the downs. Pannell stood under them, gray +and weather-beaten, facing the shifting shadows +with its unchanging stone.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As they passed into the drive, Vixen, moving +as if she ran on velvet springs, the gray +walls of Pannell rose up in front of them. +First the clock-tower in the massive stone +stables, a stretch of open park, and then the +long, uneven lines of the roof. Anthony’s +heart struck suddenly against his side. He +had not realized before what it would be to own +Pannell. The knowledge flooded him with a +kind of awe. The ancient trees, the mossy +lawns were his, and his the evanescent spirit of +the changeless place.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Arden glanced sharply at him. +Neither of them said anything, but Anthony +knew that his father divined his feeling and +bitterly resented it. Anthony flushed painfully. +He wanted to explain how gladly he +would have given up that strange thrill of +possession for the sight of Tom, broad-shouldered +and casual, strolling out of the stable +door, a gun over his shoulder and a dog at his +heels. If his father could only have guessed +that deeper feeling, that stubborn sense of loss +which had become part of Anthony’s very being +since Tom’s death, he would not have been +hurt at the momentary pride of place which had +swept over him without replacing or touching +the deeper sense of his grief. But it was Mr. +Arden’s misfortune that he could not read +deeply into the mind of his younger son.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The last moments of the drive were intolerably +long; even his sisters, who had been pointing +out all the changes of three years to Anthony, +ceased chattering.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and the +February light lay level across the lawn, fugitive +and without weight.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Vixen consented to draw up on the familiar +gravel after a slight pretense that she had never +been there before and couldn’t be expected to +remain an instant in so strange a situation. A +groom ran to her head and out of a French +window poured a torrent of dogs, a fox-terrier, +two white West Highlanders, and more gingerly, +as a matter of form, came Max.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For a moment he stood stock-still, his whole +being centered in an anxious, questioning sniff, +and then three years, a third of his brief lifetime, +ceased to exist. He hurled the two white +West Highlanders to right and left of him, he +passed straight over the back of Demon, the +ecstatic fox-terrier, he leaped at the thin, gray +figure of Anthony fiercely and without a +sound. Three times he flung himself upward +silently at his master’s chest, weaving like +a shuttle the pattern of his desperate joy; then +Anthony found a voice to say his name huskily, +and Max, the sober, the undemonstrative, that +foe to emotion in fox-terriers, sat down on the +top of a flight of steps and proceeded to have +a fit of violent hysterics.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had to push him aside in order to +hurry through the open French windows to his +mother’s arms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As he caught her against his heart, he heard +her whisper over and over under her breath:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure you’re not hungry, Tony? +Are you sure you’re not hungry?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She knew he had been in Holland and overnight +in London, but she wanted to hear him +say he was not hungry. She had thought of +nothing else for two years.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt quite happy at coming back to +his mother, because he knew she would not +want him to be Tom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tom was not the race to Mrs. Arden as he +had been to his father. He was Tom, and the +son she held in her frail arms was Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You must have tea at once,” she whispered +tremulously. “It’s quite ready, and I hope +you won’t mind eating a new-laid egg with +it, it’s more solid. Oh, you’re so thin, my +darling!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not nearly so thin as you are, Mother,” +said Anthony, trying to see her face through +misty eyes. “By Jove! you’re like a little +leaf!” His mother shook her head smilingly +at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not thin, Anthony,” she murmured; +“I’m only old.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And then Anthony saw that was what had +happened while he was away; his mother had +grown old.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>The house was extraordinarily quiet. +Anthony kept listening for the heavy +tread of a sentry, the raucous cry of a German +voice, or the sound of a restless fellow-prisoner +turning on his bed. Instead, he felt +like a tangible substance the guarded silence +of the old, thick walls. He was glad he had +the electric light fully on. It showed him that +it was, after all, an ordinary, empty room, a +place you could get in and out of easily.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It had been his own, and everything in it recalled +the memories of his boyhood. He could +count the roses on the worn carpet, and see the +hole he had burned in it under the window by +a drop of acid. The old oak wardrobe was +roughened and eaten into by time. It had +made a splendid shy hole for treasures, mixed +up with superfluous underclothes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The book-case in the corner held all Anthony’s +school prizes, a fine, solid row of young +achievements. It had always hurt Anthony’s +feelings that the squire never cared to look at +them, and it had hurt the squire’s feelings that +Anthony had cared to win them when Tom +was content with cups and bats.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Everything in the room came back to Tom. +Tom was in old school photograph groups on +the walls. It had seemed incredibly important +to Anthony at the time to buy them, +though, as a form of decoration, they resembled +a paper of pins, and now he could hardly +remember the fellows’ names. They were +healthy, well-made boys, with short futures. +Most of them were dead. Tom was usually +sitting in the center with a cup or a presentation +bat behind him. Anthony tried to hurry +away from that well-known direct gaze, looking +straight out of the photograph at him; but +however fast he hurried, Tom’s eyes followed +him. Anthony tried to fix his mind instead +upon the prints of Watts and Burne-Jones +which he had bought with a sense of thrilled +compulsion in his early twenties, and hadn’t +had time to get rid of afterward.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He remembered that he had once encouraged +the tenderest fancies for the half-starved, +anemic creatures with long necks and heavy +hair; but he could not rouse in himself the faintest +interest in these weary ladies now. Anthony +had not wanted real women in his youth. +He had been afraid of them, and later on he +had despised women. It is always simpler for +young men to despise what they are afraid of: +it makes them feel less afraid; but it sometimes +gives them in later life more reason for fear.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony despised women because he +thought that they interfered with a man’s +work. Bad women interfered with it intermittently, +and good women interfered with it +all the time. They did not understand the abstract, +and Anthony, perhaps fortunately for +himself, had not time to stop and explain it to +them. Anthony remembered a curious, wistful +saying of Tom’s: “It must make a fellow +feel rather like the Almighty to keep as +straight as you do.” It <span class='it'>had</span> made Anthony +feel rather like the Almighty, but his virtue had +isolated him. In order to exercise it he had +become rigid, and rigidity is seldom popular +with women.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had never been a success with them. +Either they wanted to attract Anthony, and +found they couldn’t, or they did not want to +attract him, and suspected him of thinking +they did. In either case women misled Anthony, +and avoided him when they couldn’t +mislead him. But for the sake of Pannell he +would have to marry now.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s mind slipped indolently over his +sister’s friends; he had none of his own under +forty. “Women become interesting,” he +thought, “when they cease to be attractive.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ursula’s and Gladys’s friends were far too +young to suit him. They considered themselves +grown up, of course. They had round, +firm cheeks like pink tennis-balls, and the eyes +of intelligent puppies. Physically they were +everything a woman should be, but they never +opened a book, and would look frightened and +drop things if Anthony spoke to them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne’s friends were of the right age, but +she was apt to like clever women who had been +misunderstood by their families. Anthony +disliked women who were misunderstood, and +he suspected all cleverness in women. If it +was genuine, and not a mere ruse of the unattractive, +he considered that it led to grave nervous +disorders.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony wanted a wife without a nerve, +with great practical common sense, like the best +type of elderly trained nurse. She must not +be more than twenty-five years old, with plenty +of knowledge of actual life and its processes +and no abstract intelligence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Abstract intelligence played the devil with +women. They carried their emotions into it, +and thought with their blood. They poured +personality into the universe as a man pours +water into a jug, and the universe was not made +to hold personality. Women were never impersonal, +and they were most dangerous when +they were being clever about hiding it. They +could not deal straight with fact. They did +not have even a temptation without a serpent +to support it, and they were capable of melting +down the multiplication table into a channel for +personal drama. Anthony’s thoughts became +a little vague at this point. He did not exactly +want to marry a woman without charm; +but he had got his mind away from Tom, at all +events, or thought he had.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>An owl shrieked under his window. He +knew it was an owl, but the shriek curiously +haunted and disturbed him. He got out of +bed and began to walk up and down the room; +it did not help him very much, because he had +already got all the help there is to be got from +this form of exercise while he was a prisoner. +Still, it was curiously better to think about +prison than to think about Tom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>To-morrow he had promised to tell his people +his experiences; his mother had helped him to +put it off a day. It would be wiser, perhaps, +to prepare beforehand what he meant to tell +them. It wouldn’t do if he ran off the rails +anywhere and told them the truth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was not that the truth was so bad, but that +you could not tell it. It was so misleading. +It would be like giving a coherent explanation +of Christian Science to a hard-headed business +man with a toothache.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It would have been easier to tell them perhaps—everything +would have been easier—if +they had not all been so silent about Tom. +That was what made the house so infernally +full of his presence. There was nothing secret +about Tom; he was the most open person alive: +but now he was being hushed up until everything +became aware of him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The moment Anthony had entered the hall +he had felt conscious of the weight of this silence. +It was in the servants’ faces, and had +taken possession of inanimate things. The very +walking-sticks in the hall seemed under the +weight of it, and silence brooded over the staircase +and in all the empty spaces of the rooms. +Everything was waiting for Tom to come and +use it; everything had belonged to Tom and +was still his.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All the evening the house waited. They +hadn’t put off dinner, because that was a meal +which was never put off for anybody; but when +the clock struck eight all their eyes had gone to +the door expectantly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The squire gave an impatient sigh. He had +always been impatient with Tom for being late, +but he had never really minded. Nobody said +anything; they had just gone in to dinner, and +the squire had opened a bottle of old wine and +been vexed with Anthony for not drinking +more of it. Of course he was really vexed with +Anthony for being Anthony, but he put it down +to the wine.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony made up his mind to speak of Tom +to his father directly they were alone after dinner; +but the words stuck in his throat. He was +afraid of breaking into something that mustn’t +be broken into. He had a feeling that the +beauty of his home was unsubstantial. He +was intensely aware of it: the spotless, delicate +linen; the shining, unobtrusive silver; the quiet +comfort and security of all its simplest processes. +It seemed to Anthony that the bared +voice of pain might break it all to pieces. It +would be like touching porcelain with a hammer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He longed for his father to speak of Tom, +but Mr. Arden said nothing. He was heroically +accepting the return of the wrong son, and +his heroism cost Anthony his father’s confidence. +Mr. Arden was kind to Anthony and +even mildly cheerful, but he held his son away +from his grief. The squire had not shared his +sorrow even with his wife. He had spared +her. “I think we won’t talk of Tom, my dear, +at present,” was what he had said to her after +the first few desolate hours, and Mrs. Arden +had appeared spared. She had kissed him silently +and left the room. Tom unspoken of +had settled down upon the house; no one spoke +of him, and no one remembered him as Tom, +and no one forgot him as a grief. It made +Anthony feel in some strange way as if he was +to blame for not being killed as well. He had +gone to bed as soon as he could, and even here +he couldn’t get away from his false impression +of Tom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He opened the door of his room and listened. +The house was perfectly still; he could hear the +old clock down-stairs creak each time its heavy +pendulum swung to and fro.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It used to creak like that when he and Tom +were in the night nursery up-stairs, and they +came out of it to hang over the banisters to +listen. If it was very dark and late, they +sometimes thought it wasn’t the clock, but a +bad old man creeping up-stairs to catch them; +but they never went back into the night nursery +until they had stopped being afraid, because +they knew they mustn’t be cowards. +They knew that as soon as they knew anything.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tom’s room was at the end of the passage +nearest the stables, because Tom loved to hear +the grooms hiss over the horses early in the +morning. Anthony felt that he must go to +Tom’s room and find him. It wasn’t any use +waiting any longer; only Tom could drive +away the weight of this delusive ghost.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Everything was in order, and except that the +order was a little too perfect it looked just as +it used to look when Tom was in it. There +were his boating cups and sport trophies on +the mantelpiece; a cricket-bat stood in the corner, +and Tom’s school cap with colors hung +over his fishing-rod.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a row of pipes over the writing-table +by the window, and a series of sporting +prints decorated the walls.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Nothing had been changed; the familiar +smell of good leather, a great deal used, lingered +over all the furniture. Anthony went to +the writing-table and picked up a small, shabby +red book. It was called “My Friends’ +Opinions,” and had been given to Tom by +Daphne on his sixteenth birthday.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It contained a series of printed questions on +one page, with blank spaces for answers upon +the opposite side, and would probably, as far +as Tom was concerned, have remained blank +if he had not been overtaken by influenza and +a rainy day.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This unfortunate combination had produced +Tom’s opinions, written in a round +school-boy hand, and as he had not changed +them since his sixteenth birthday, they remained +the sole expression of his unexpressive +personality.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony picked up the book and read it +slowly, as if he were listening to Tom’s voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is your favorite flower?” the inquisition +began.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tom had written, “A rose,” because he felt +that he was safe with roses. You could not +catch him out there; most people preferred +roses.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is your favorite Christian name?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tom had felt this to be a snare, and had +confused the issue. He had put “Bluebell” +and “Eleanore.” Bluebell was Tom’s sole excursion +into prose fancy. He had never met +a “Bluebell,” and the name corresponded to +Anthony’s Burne-Jones ladies. Eleanore was +supported by fact; she was Tom’s favorite +mare.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What character do you admire most in fiction?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Hereward the Wake.</span>”</p> + +<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Hereward</span> wasn’t really a character at all, +but all that fighting had made him sound like +one to Tom, and his battle-cry was worth many +austere virtues.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“In history?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Richard Cœur de Lion.” Richard, too, +had escaped the strictest moral elevation, but +his title and the Holy Land preserved him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“In real life?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My father.” There was nothing to be said +to this statement except that in the day of calamity +the squire had come across it and been +enabled to hold up his head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your favorite book?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Black Beauty’ and ‘Tom Brown’s School +Days.’ Besides, these are the only ones I have +read through by myself except when I had to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hunting was, of course, Tom’s chief pastime.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The questions did not go very deeply into +religious matters. Tom had got out of them +neatly by mentioning “the Church of England” +and “the Bible.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The inquiry ended romantically with, +“What is your favorite quotation?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This surprised Anthony, for Tom had written +“Those friends thou hast and their adoption +tried, grapple them to thy soul with hooks of +steel.” Of course this was what Tom would +do, but Anthony had not known that he read +Shakspere, and Tom had added another line, +though he was obviously unaware that it did +not belong to the quotation above it: “For truth +is truth to the end of the reckoning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony put the book down. He felt as if +Tom couldn’t haunt him any more. Tom had +got to the end of the reckoning first; that was +all there was to it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The night before Tom’s regiment had left +England, Anthony had asked Tom what he +thought about death. He had not put it like +that of course, because Tom would not have +known how to deal with an abstraction. He +had said, “What do you feel about things, old +chap? D’you mind awfully the idea of going +out?” And Tom had answered after a pause, +as if the question was not wholly new to him: +“Oh, I don’t know. It seems simple enough. +Look at rabbits—you know what I mean: +you’re awfully alive one moment, and then +just a little bit of limp fur the next. I’ve +often thought it funny, but never particularly +terrible. What do you feel about it yourself?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You mustn’t judge by my feelings,” Anthony +had answered. “You see, it’s my profession +to fight death. Frankly, I hate it. +I’ve tried to get the better of it for years, +but beyond a certain point you can’t. Nobody +ever has. It downs you. I dare say I +shan’t mind extinction for myself. The act +of death is generally unconscious, and if it +isn’t, it is so disagreeable that no sane man +would wish to prolong it. I never have believed +there was the ghost of a life afterward.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This had shocked Tom considerably. He +had said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, you know, I believe in the church +and all that up to a certain point, of course; +and then there’s the Bible. I’m not a clever +chap like you, but I honestly feel as if it must +be all right somehow, if one does the best one +can, you know, and all that. There must be +something in it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony smiled at this remembrance; then +he shivered as he turned to go back to his +own room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was wondering again if death had come +to Tom quickly, like the shot rabbit, one moment +all alive and next a little bit of limp flesh +and blood, funny, but not terrible?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He dared not let himself think of the alternative, +and either way, what <span class='it'>had</span> come afterward? +Nothing, as he believed, or whatever +it was that Tom was groping after, when +he asserted that: “It must be all right somehow. +There must be something in it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“For truth is truth to the end of the reckoning.” +That was the only enigmatical statement +that Anthony had ever known Tom endorse; +for it was enigmatic to any one else but +Tom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was all very well for Tom to talk as if +truth was the next door neighbor’s pig, but +how was Anthony to find it so ascertainable? +And how could he bear not to find it, when it +included, as it included now, the possibility of +Tom’s own immortality?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a tentative scratch at the door. +Max had awakened to find Anthony gone and +tracked him methodically down the passage. +Truth was not enigmatical to Max. He had +only to follow his instincts, which led him unerringly +in the direction of his master.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s breakfast was sent up to +his room on a tray. He felt an absurd +inclination to cry at the sight of the delicate +linen, the golden creaminess of the butter, the +liquid sunshine of a honeycomb, and the thin +egg-shell china, white with a green sprig, which +had been one of his mother’s wedding presents.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He wished he could get used to the physical +beauty of inanimate things. Beauty struck +raw against his strained and awakened senses, +like the piercing music of a violin.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After breakfast Anthony found his mother +in the morning-room. She was always to be +found there at the same time, interviewing +servants, going over household accounts, or +writing her family letters. Her even, blameless +existence was full of little cares and arrangements +for her family’s comfort.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Nothing had ever broken into Mrs. Arden’s +habits. She was always willing to assist poor +people if they had anything usual the matter +with them; and if what they had the matter +with them was unusual, she referred it to the +squire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room looked south on to the terrace, +fronting the downs. It was full of sunshine. +On the table by the window stood a bowl of +early daffodils. Mrs. Arden turned as Anthony +came in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hoped you’d come here, dear,” she said as +he kissed her. “I rather wanted you all to myself +this morning. The girls are in the garden, +and your father had to go out. While we are +alone together, I want to show you all the wonderful +letters about dear Tom. You would +hardly believe people could be so kind; every +one wrote to us.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony sat down on the window-seat, and +Mrs. Arden took out the letters.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were kept in a long, open box on her +writing-table, and labeled in her exquisite, neat +hand-writing: “From Tom’s friends.” “From +his relations.” “From the people on the estate.” +“From his regiment.” “From the +clergy.” “From public people.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I think I like his friends’ letters best,” Mrs. +Arden explained quietly. “They sound more +like him, and some of the villagers wrote about +when he was a child. It is such a comfort to +know how well he was understood and loved. +What I like best is to think of him being remembered. +I don’t know how to put it quite, +but when people live a very long time, they +are connected with so many things and events, +aren’t they? Even if they’re quite dull +people, they don’t drop out so easily; but short +lives like Tom’s might disappear and be lost,—I +mean humanly speaking,—mightn’t they, if +people weren’t specially kind about remembering? +Dear Mr. Medal is so good to me! +He preached a wonderful sermon on purpose +to reassure me about the remembrances of God. +I think that was what he called it. But of +course one believes that God remembers; only +sometimes (perhaps you’ll understand what I +mean better than Mr. Medal did), one wants +to think the <span class='it'>earth</span> remembered Tom as well. +He did so much for it, didn’t he, here at Pannell?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony nodded. He knew exactly what +his mother meant. He, too, had the same feeling. +He wanted the earth to remember +Tom—the earth which he had tended with such +care and had slipped out of at the last so unobtrusively.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony read the letters out loud to his +mother. She sat beside him, with her hand on +his arm, and every now and then she cried a little, +because it was such a comfort having Anthony +read the letters out loud to her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony read packet after packet, holding +on to himself and keeping his voice even. +When he had finished them all, Mrs. Arden +said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now, then, if you wouldn’t mind telling me +all about Germany before your father comes +in, then I should really understand what you +have been through.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden could say “Germany” better +than Mr. Arden could, but she couldn’t for the +life of her say “prison.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I tried to read all that the newspapers said +about it, you know, Anthony,” she explained, +“and all the books that came out on the subject. +I am sure they were wonderfully written, +and no doubt their authors knew all about +their subjects, only, you see, they never said +any of the things I particularly wanted to +know. I dare say it was my fault. I am so +stupid at understanding descriptions in books; +I always wish people would just tell you what +happened.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony cleared his throat and looked at the +daffodils.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps,” he said, “you had better ask me +exactly what you do want to know.” Anthony +expected to get off rather cheaply with his +mother. She was, as a rule, very easy to get +off cheaply from. She never saw points very +clearly, her own or any one else’s. He had +not counted on her asking questions, which, if +he hadn’t been very careful, would have told +her far too much. He did not know how the +most ignorant fears, if they come direct from +the heart, hit at truth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Of course he was intensely careful. He got +round all her questions, he evaded the sharp +issues of her fears, and he told her the strictest +minimum of painful things. The Ardens +never frightened women except by reassuring +them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden listened anxiously to Anthony’s +answers. She did not press her points. She +saw after a few moments that Anthony was +sparing her, and that it made it easier for him +to spare her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Once she sighed a little, and at the end she +said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“People’s hair isn’t usually so gray at +twenty-eight, Anthony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony got out of that very cleverly. He +said it was the climate. Quite young Germans +had gray hair or else they were bald. +She couldn’t say his hair wasn’t thick.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And they were really nice to you,” Mrs. +Arden murmured, “after the first?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had admitted to her that at first +they weren’t very nice to him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They were all right,” he said a little restlessly—“what +they had to be, you know, +Mother. Guards aren’t supposed to be +friendly, and the commandant was quite a good +fellow, really. He had to be a bit stiff, you +know; that was what he was there for. I generally +took him the complaints; he was always +quite decent to me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And what complaints did you take him, +dear?” Mrs. Arden softly questioned.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not meet her eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, ordinary prisoners’ complaints, you +know,” he explained carelessly. “Sometimes +we wanted more exercise, or the heating went +wrong, or what we had in the way of food +wasn’t quite up to the mark. You know the +kind of thing.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden was silent for a moment. She +was not quite sure that she did know the kind +of thing, but she saw that Anthony wanted her +to know it. Then she said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your father has asked Mr. Medal to dine +with us to-night. He wants so much to see +you again and to hear your experiences, and so +does your father, of course. I thought perhaps +you would tell them after dinner, when +the girls and I had gone, you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stiffened. He did not want to see +the vicar or to tell him his experiences; he saw +that his mother thought he would talk more +freely to the two men.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He did not guess that she thought it would +be good for him to talk more freely, and still +less that if he had told her everything, she +would not have known more surely than she +did what he had suffered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I shall have to see Medal sooner +or later,” he agreed after a pause, “only I don’t +want to see people just yet or to be asked questions. +I don’t mean yours, Mother, of course. +It isn’t that one’s had such a hard time, you +know. Most fellows have had a far worse one; +only one wants to get used to things gradually.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, dear, I understand,” said Mrs. Arden, +gently. “Only, of course, you’ll want to tell +your father, and I thought Mr. Medal might +be a help. After all, he’s almost like one of +ourselves.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He isn’t much like one of me,” said Anthony, +with a rueful grin. “You forget he +hasn’t got over my shocking opinions. He +told me that I was the most poisoned skeptic he +ever prepared for confirmation.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden smiled.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, dear,” she said, “haven’t <span class='it'>you</span> got over +your shocking opinions yet? I think one does, +as one gets older, cease to shock.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony had not got as old as that yet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not the least more religious, if that’s +what you mean, Mother,” he confessed a little +uncomfortably.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden sighed gently, but she waived +the question. She did not think that with a +really good man like Anthony it mattered very +much what he thought he believed. Mrs. Arden +never interfered with men’s opinions or +children’s toys; it was her experience that they +both preferred what you would least have +chosen for them. But that as long as they +were kept amused, it did not greatly matter +what object their choice fell upon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Max is longing to take you round the +garden,” she said. “You’ll find the girls out +there waiting for you; they want to show you +their improvements. They’ve been really +wonderful since the war, you know, helping +your father on the estate; and Ursula is quite +pretty, but not, of course, as pretty as Daphne. +Go out and be nice to them; and don’t, if you +can help it, be too clever, Anthony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony couldn’t really help it. He always +had been too clever for the rest of his +family. His mother and Daphne overlooked +it, but it stuck in the throats of the others; they +found it as difficult to swallow as a fishbone.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ursula and Gladys did what they could with +him. They strolled round the park together, +and showed him where they had planted potatoes +when the Government had made all that +fuss about potatoes, and how much ground they +had persuaded father to have cut up into allotments +for the villagers. Ursula knew all +about the land. It had been her war work, and +she was rather disappointed to find that Anthony +knew something about it, too. He was +apologetic over his knowledge, but he had to +admit that he had picked up a thing or two in +Germany, and had ideas of his own.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Gladys had been a V.A.D. and of course +she expected Anthony to talk to her about the +extraordinary cases they had had in their cottage +hospital. All their cases had been extraordinary, +and what was the use of having a +doctor in the family if you couldn’t talk things +over with him, and tell the other V.A.D.’s afterward +where they were wrong? But Anthony +said it was no use theorizing about a +case you hadn’t seen; you might as well try to +paint a picture from a description of your +great-grandmother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they asked him about his experiences +in Germany he told them how he and the other +officers had got up charades and mock parliamentary +debates. They had had really tremendous +fun over woman’s suffrage, and Anthony +had argued on both sides so persuasively +that nobody had been able to guess what his +real opinions were.</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “But you do believe in suffrage now, don’t +you?” both his sisters cried breathlessly. “Almost +everybody does since the war. It’s not a +bit like what it was when the Suffragettes were +so silly, and father got so angry about it. Besides, +we’ve got the vote!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “It seems to me exactly what it was,” said +Anthony, aggravatingly, “and I always agreed +with it. That is to say, I always agreed +women had as much right as they had ability; +until they have the right, of course we cannot +judge of their ability. My theory has always +been, if you want people to hang themselves, +give them the longest rope.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “But do you want them to hang themselves?” +Ursula asked uncertainly. “That’s not being +on their side, is it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony looked from one flushed young +face to the other. He felt he was, after all, +tremendously on the side of women. But he +was not considering them at all as they wished +him to consider them: an intense tenderness +pervaded his judgment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His sisters were eighteen and twenty years +old, bewilderingly young and untried. Nothing +had finished for them, nor had they ever +seen the betrayal of illusion.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The war had been a great call on their young +and unawakened energies; they had met it +dauntlessly, protected from all its horrors and +free from its indelible stains. The tragic early +deaths of their contemporaries had saddened +and ennobled their lives. They had been tried +by sorrow, but they had not been brutalized by +pain. They had made the sacrifice of the +pleasures of their class and race with a willing +heart. All that had come to them and all that +they had given up had developed and enriched +them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They had found out what was in themselves, +and had acted capably and conscientiously on +the material that lay to their hands. Beauty +had never left them; love and companionship +remained the unconscious support of their lives. +They had never been terrified or beaten down +or come to the end of their tether. Anthony, +looking at their smooth young faces and fearless +eyes, hoped passionately that they would +continue to escape all such realities. If he had +believed in prayer, he would have prayed that +they might never know anything more terrible +than their protected duty. He looked away +from them so that they should not see his +haunted eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I am on your side” he said after a long +pause, “more, perhaps, than you know. As to +believing in you as individuals, I believe in you +very strongly. It’s quite a part of my creed +to believe in my sisters.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Neither Ursula nor Gladys was satisfied +with this answer. They didn’t wish to be believed +in as sisters, and they couldn’t explain +what they did wish, so they showed Anthony +the stables instead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no doubt that Mr. Medal helped +at dinner. He had a great deal of natural tact, +and a good many openings arose for the use of +it. The squire was irritable. He did not like +Anthony’s ideas about land, he suspected him +of socialism; and though, of course, a certain +amount of socialism had to be let in to save +worse, if Anthony was socialistic, it wouldn’t +be in the kind of way that the “Times” suggested +canny landlords should adopt.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden was nervous because she +thought it would be unfortunate if politics or +religion turned up; but when there are one or +two large subjects which it would be unfortunate +to mention, the conversation has a +strange way of turning slap in their direction, +especially if you are nervous about it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The girls were a little nervous, too, because +they felt they had the position of women to uphold +before Anthony, and were not quite sure +that their father and Mr. Medal would remember +to show Anthony that they were quite +grown up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Medal did, however; he remembered it +beautifully. He recounted all the girls had +done for the cottage hospital, drew out the +squire’s well-known theories on agricultural +prospects, and touched lightly on the histories +of village families (not related to the footmen) +in a way that did credit to his cloth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden kept thinking:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How wonderful clergymen are! I am sure +they must be specially helped.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And Mr. Arden gradually thawed over the +food. It was very good food, but if the conversation +had gone wrong, he would have +thought it wasn’t. They did not talk about +anything painful till the women had left the +room; then the squire said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “Now, Anthony, my boy, we should like to +hear how those scoundrels treated you. Let’s +have the whole thing from the start, without +any gloves on. I understand you were all +taken in a lump, the men on your flanks having +retreated without your knowing it. They +killed some of you after you had surrendered, +didn’t they?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony looked down at the white tablecloth +and began to play nervously with his +empty glass. It had been a very long day. +Of course he wasn’t going to break down and +see things, and only housemaids scream. He +would get through quite easily if he just +steered clear of a few awkward corners.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Three hundred of us were taken together,” +he began in a low, even voice, “but they killed +about fifty or sixty before they were stopped +by a fat man with glasses. I think he was a +Bavarian. He said, ‘My God! these are men, +not chickens.’ My leg was broken, so I was +on the ground.” This was an awkward corner. +Anthony couldn’t tell them anything about +that. He went on hurriedly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was awfully cold, you know, in December, +and we had five days on the train. For +two days we hadn’t any water,—I think it was +two days,—and I don’t remember much about +the food on the journey. The guards were +rather rough. I was in a hospital for three +months. It was quite well managed, on the +whole, a little dirty, according to our ideas; +probably on account of the nursing. Some of +the nurses behaved well, and others didn’t. +There were one or two who took the patients’ +food, and nobody had any too much food.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“For the first six months we had rather a +bad time; that was before we got the letters and +parcels regularly. We were shunted about a +good deal in cold, badly arranged camps; the +bedding was very insufficient.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We must remember that the Germans were +not organized for a long war. They expected +a short war and great victories, but not large +quantities of prisoners to keep indefinitely +without any prospect of final victory; and then +there was the blockade.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, yes; we had them there,” said the +squire, cheerfully. “What happened when +you made complaints about the food?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We didn’t make complaints then,” said +Anthony, slowly. He looked up across the +shaded electric lights, covered with yellow silk +in the shape of tulips, at Mr. Medal’s face. +Mr. Medal was following Anthony with kindly +intentness and peeling a walnut. He had a +benevolent, comfortable face, with fixed ideas +behind it. It was quite funny to think what +his face would look like if a shrieking woman +had spat into it and called him a cursed pig-dog.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Mr. Medal was preparing Anthony +for confirmation he had warned him against +certain temptations which he might be called +upon to face in his future life. A scene in the +prison camp flashed before Anthony’s eyes; it +was another of his awkward corners. There +was a temptation in it, but not in the least like +anything the vicar had mentioned.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When I could walk all right,” he went on +after a short pause, “I was put in the Westphalian +camp I told you about, Father. It was +in a bad sanitary condition; there was a great +deal of dysentery and light typhoid, with some +graver cases. I made complaints then, regularly, +till they altered the conditions. I wasn’t +very popular with the authorities. You have +no idea how difficult it is to face a well-fed, +angry man and state your rights as a human +being. When you are rather down in the +mouth, you do not feel as if you have any rights, +and they don’t either, of course.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’re not human beings at all!” shouted +the squire, banging his fist on the table. +“Damned bullying blackguards!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony jumped as if his father had struck +him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s funny your saying that, sir,” he said +after a pause. “They struck me as very human +always, and very like some of our own +people. It occurred to me that we might be +treating Germans just the same if we thought +of them what they thought of us. I often used +to wonder if we weren’t. War makes people +untruthful.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My dear boy,” said Mr. Medal, softly, before +the squire could interfere, “it is your rundown +condition which makes you feel like this. +An underfed brain is hardly master of itself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s quite true,” agreed Anthony, “and +yet you have no idea how clearly one sees things +when one is underfed. One sees everything as +clear as glass. And not only the usual things, +but what people are thinking as well, and why +they think it. It is curiously disturbing to see +so many things so plainly, and not be able to +help them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He pulled himself up; this wasn’t what he +had meant to say at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We cleaned the camp,” he went on, “and +the condition of the men improved greatly, and +the rest of the time we just—well, you know—waited. +I got a certain amount of exercise +allowed me, and I taught the men Swedish drill +to make them fit. They let me act as camp +doctor, with a German medico to refer to if I +needed outside help.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I used to need outside help, you see, when +any one went mad.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Medal stopped peeling walnuts.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mad!” spluttered the squire. “What +d’you mean, my boy? What did any one go +mad for?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And then what Anthony was afraid might be +going to happen to him happened. He began +to see things. He caught hold of the table to +steady himself, and his glass rolled on to the +floor and smashed to pieces. He tried to get +up and go outside the circle of the light. Light +infuriated as well as terrified him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He saw the vicar’s face in a kind of blur +jumping between him and the pictures, his +large, round, contented face as frightened as a +startled rabbit.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s teeth began to chatter, and he felt +he was going to scream. He caught hold of +his lips and bit them till the blood came. That +helped him to get to the window and open it +without screaming. The cool, clean air from +the downs caught and soothed him like the +touch of a friendly hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He stood there breathing deeply, while the +merciful, soft darkness covered up all he could +not forget. The things themselves had never +been so terrible as the pictures. Anthony had +been able to deal with what had happened, but +he could not deal with the memories of what +had happened. They ripped his self-control as +if it was calico.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you all right, my boy?” the squire asked +unsteadily.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Quite all right, sir,” said Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For a moment they stood there together, and +it seemed to Anthony as if some ineradicable +stubbornness of blood connected him with his +father and his father with him. It was an instinct +stronger than any misunderstanding.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The squire said nothing, and in a minute +they were all three sitting around the table as +if nothing had happened.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Medal looked the most disturbed of the +three.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony finished his experiences quite comfortably +without any awkward corners.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“D’you know, Mary,” said the squire when +he joined his wife in their room, “those German +pirates have upset that boy of ours; I don’t +think I quite took it in at first. His nerve’s +shaken. What do you think we’d better do +about it? Medal suggests sea-bathing. Did +you notice the boy was at all upset?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden looked at the back of the squire’s +head with tender exasperation.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, dear,” she said. “When I gave him +his tea—when he first came in, you know—his +hands shook. Anthony always has such perfectly +steady hands. I don’t think sea-bathing +would help him at all. I want him to go +and stay with Daphne. So many young +people run in and out there in such a simple, +free-and-easy way, I think it might be good for +him. I have written to Daphne about it. It +seems to me that some really nice girl, whose +people we knew all about, would quiet Anthony’s +nerves down better than anything.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Marry him?” said the squire, reflectively. +“That’s what you’re up to, is it? Well, of +course he’s Pannell to think of now; but falling +in love mightn’t have such a quieting effect +as you seem to fancy, Mary. I can remember +that it had rather a stimulating effect on me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It depends,” said his wife, slipping his +pocket-handkerchief under his pillow, “on +whom you fall in love with. I specially said to +Daphne—a nice, quiet girl.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Ruth Mellicot had perhaps rather +too classic a brow; it rose above her clear +gray eyes, white and firm and a little high. +She would have made a perfect model for +Minerva.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She had been to Girton, and besides a very +quiet manner and an ability to follow the points +of an argument, however abstruse, she spoke in +a low, pleasant voice very agreeable to listen +to. There was no reason why it should make +people feel as if they had gone back to the +school-room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Both Daphne and Jim liked her extremely. +She was a woman to be relied upon in every +emergency and she was never in the way. She +was modern in her ideas, without coming into +conflict with respectability. She had grasped +the convenient truth that it is well to think a +century ahead, and to act a century behind the +present. She was very open-minded about the +other world and extremely clear-headed about +this one.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony could talk to her upon any subject +he liked. He had always thought it was absurd +that women should have to be talked to +as if the facts of life did not exist for them in +the presence of the opposite sex. If you +wanted to know what a woman thought about +life, she should be capable of telling you without +shirking facts or showing embarrassment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ruth was perfectly capable of telling Anthony +what she thought upon any subject; she +shirked nothing, and it was Anthony who felt +embarrassed. She regarded him with her +grave, candid eyes as if they were fellow-students +at a lecture, discussing one of the subjects +in their course. She said that men and +women must work together on the dissecting-tables +of life, and doctors do not like illustrations +about dissecting-tables. Daphne argued +afterward with Jim that they oughtn’t to have +been left so much alone together.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was wonderful weather for April, the kind +of weather that seemed designed for long +country rambles, teas at wayside inns, and late +returns in time to dress for dinner. Anthony +had explained to Daphne that if she wanted +him really to make friends with Ruth Mellicot, +they must be a great deal alone together. He +made friends slowly, and he did not think +women ever showed their real selves before a +third person.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Daphne said, “Do they before a second?” +Anthony smiled the smile of a man who +has reason to believe in his own power of discrimination, +and replied that they probably did +it unconsciously.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ruth looked very well in coats and skirts, and +walking suited her. In the evening she did not +show to such advantage. Good walkers seldom +do. She was not exactly clumsy, but her +figure appeared rather pointless. When she +moved she seemed to be shouldering her way +through obstacles. There was very little slope +to her shoulders, and her elbows and wrists +were more prominent than they should have +been.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her conversation was extremely interesting. +She read the newspapers carefully, and Anthony +never heard her jump ahead of her facts. +Ruth did not always share Anthony’s opinions, +but she was prepared to listen to his arguments, +and he could see that on the whole she wanted +to agree with him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ruth was twenty-five, and in a sensible, unferocious +way she wished to get married. She +hoped to find a man of her class with steady +principles, a moderate income, and more or less +the same ideals. A man who would wish to +have a happy, hygienic home, two or three +healthy children, and who had a genuine desire +to improve the world up to a certain point. +Ruth did not wish a crank; cranks wish to improve +the world unreasonably and involve their +personal futures in their efforts. Ruth did not +think this a very necessary or desirable attitude. +People’s individual futures should run on one +line, and their efforts to reform the world +should run on another, and these two lines +should be parallel and never meet. When she +said she feared fanatics and disliked cranks this +was what she meant. It is what people usually +do mean. Anthony agreed with her, only he +meant something a little different. Before he +had been two years in prison he would have +meant something exactly the same.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ruth studied Anthony much as he was +studying her. She had the same prospect in +view; if she liked him, she meant to marry him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It did not annoy Anthony to guess this fact. +On the contrary, it rather amused him. He +liked her quiet, appraising eyes and her distinct +and unevasive questions. Sometimes he found +them a little too difficult to answer, but he appreciated +her asking them. She was not at all +eager to attract him, which would have frightened +him, nor did she appear to be greatly attracted +by him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Their cards were all out on the table, and +they played them in turn without any effort at +concealment. It sent Daphne and Jim into fits +of laughter.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne and Jim weren’t superior about +their happiness. It was a child of so much +danger and uncertainty that even now when +life appeared open before it, they walked delicately, +like an Agag, and hid the sharpness of +their joy. But they could not hide their happiness +itself. They existed in a charmed circle +of love, and though they looked over the edge +of it from time to time, their inner life was complete, +and uninterrupted by the actions of others.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course,” Anthony observed to Daphne +when Ruth had left them to change her shoes, +most sensibly, without a suggestion from Anthony, +after they had been caught in a shower, +“it’s an immense comfort to hear exactly what +a woman thinks about things. I appreciate it +awfully and all that, you know. Miss Mellicot’s +just been telling me what she expects of a +husband. Daphne, if you laugh into your tea +like that you’ll choke. Only it occurred to me +to wonder if you’d ever put it quite like that +to Jim.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My dear,” said Daphne, chuckling, “as if I +should have dared! And if I had dared, it +wouldn’t have mattered. You see, I never +thought about him in the least like that. I +don’t now. He was just Jim.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Still,” Anthony protested, “you must have +said to yourself some time or other before you +fell in love with him: ‘What kind of fellow is +this, good or bad? Would he make a good +father for my children? That kind of thing—what?’ ”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne’s eyes brimmed with laughter. She +shook her head violently.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I never said anything of the kind,” she +answered him. “I always thought of him as +Jim, <span class='it'>not</span> as a man, and I was terrified he’d fall +out of his aëroplane and be killed before I knew +if he really loved me, and I didn’t think about +anybody’s children for millions of years afterward. +Of course I dare say goodness was a +part of his being Jim, but not nearly <span class='it'>all</span> of it. +Badness wouldn’t have mattered if it hadn’t +altered him. Of course I suppose some kinds +of badness <span class='it'>do</span> really alter people. That must +be awful, like losing your way in a fog—your +way <span class='it'>home</span>—when you <span class='it'>know</span> it so frightfully +well really; but it wouldn’t stop being your +home, would it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne became quite serious, looking at Anthony +over her bread and butter. It was +funny to think of Ruth and Anthony, but it +wasn’t funny to think how badness might alter +love.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course,” said Anthony, “neither Miss +Mellicot nor I sentimentalize nature. If you +act on sane principles, sufficient emotion will +follow later; only—” his face slightly clouded +as he regarded his sister’s shining eyes—“I +must confess, Daphne, just between you and +me, you know, that it’s rather like going to a +dentist without a toothache.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Doesn’t it ache the least little bit?” Daphne +asked with anxiety as Ruth came into the room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shook his head, and looked consideringly +at the tall, tidy young woman in front +of the tea-table. Ruth did her hair very well. +It was bright, smooth, brown hair, and very +thick.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not in the least, thanks,” said Anthony a +little dryly. “I haven’t felt even a preliminary +twinge. Won’t you have one of these little +pink things, Miss Mellicot?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll have bread and butter first, please,” +said Ruth. “It’s the good old nursery rule, +isn’t it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And then the door opened, and Kitty came +in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She did not wait to be announced as “Miss +Costrelle.” She simply threw a long, blue chiffon +scarf on a chair, followed by a gold handbag +and a perfectly insufficient umbrella with +a jeweled handle; then she embraced Daphne.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know I oughtn’t to have come,” she said +apologetically, for the only welcome Daphne +gave her was to say reproachfully, “O Kitty! +Kitty!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was only tea. I literally was dying for +some on the doorstep, and the next house was +miles off and full of women who hate me like +poison, and won’t say so except when they think +I’m looking the other way. And I thought +you wouldn’t like Jimmy to find me just <span class='it'>dead</span> +on the mat. It would make him think you +such a bad housekeeper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“This is your brother, isn’t it? I’ve met +Miss Mellicot before, I believe. I’m awfully +afraid of her. You are the one who went +to Girton, aren’t you? I can’t think why +Daphne has such awfully clever friends; she +isn’t a bit clever herself, really, is she, Captain +Arden? Of course I know <span class='it'>you</span> are, but men +don’t matter. One isn’t afraid of <span class='it'>their</span> cleverness.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give her her tea,” said Daphne, resignedly. +She seemed to be simultaneously annoyed +and amused at the appearance of her unexpected +visitor. “She’s not really afraid of +anybody’s cleverness.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed over her tea-cup at Anthony. +Her eyes, which were almost black and a little +narrow at the corners, laughed, too; her long +emerald ear-rings laughed at him. Everything +about her glittered and sparkled, and +seemed in some strange way directed straight +at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She took what color there was out of Miss +Mellicot as sunshine takes the light out of a +fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I’ve heard all about you,” she +said, making room for Anthony on the sofa +beside her. “Daphne’s really awfully fond of +me, though you mightn’t think it. I’m one of +her secret sins. She keeps me for dull, rainy +days, as you keep chocolates and tell people you +have a headache, and then shut yourself up +with a box of them and a good detective story. +Don’t you ever do that? Don’t you, Miss Mellicot?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I never eat chocolates,” said Ruth, coldly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne groaned inwardly. It was not the +moment for Ruth to repudiate chocolates.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty opened her eyes wider than ever. She +had black lashes which curled upward, and +when she laughed her eyelashes swept together +and made her look as if her eyes were shut.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t Miss Mellicot make a good food-controller?” +Kitty murmured. “Perhaps you +were one during the war, Miss Mellicot? I +often wondered who the Government really got +hold of. I don’t believe men did that kind of +thing themselves, poor dears. There must +have been some really clever people behind the +scenes who knew just how much food there +really was, and what was absolutely necessary +for babies. Somebody very competent who +didn’t mind people not having what they +wanted.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you suppose that women are the only sex +who wish to deprive others of what they want?” +asked Miss Mellicot, disdainfully. “You +don’t appear to have a high opinion of your +sisters.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They’re the only people who really seem to +mind my having what I want,” said Kitty, +plaintively. “Still, of course, it wouldn’t be +any fun getting it if nobody minded your having +it, would it? Do you play billiards, Captain +Arden? Yes?” Anthony nodded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They have a really good table here,” Kitty +said, directing a glance at Daphne’s increasing +gravity. “I’ve finished my tea now, and it’s +begun to rain again, so I can’t possibly go home. +It would be such a pity to spoil this hat, +wouldn’t it, Miss Mellicot? But perhaps you +don’t wear hats?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not such perishable ones—in the country,” +agreed Miss Mellicot, smoothly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It would die in a good cause,” said Anthony +with appreciation, studying the golden wing +that rested on Kitty’s dark, wavy hair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Miss Mellicot’s lips tightened. It was the +first time Anthony had seen her with tight +lips. They accentuated her likeness to Minerva.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty smiled at Anthony. Then she turned +coaxingly to Daphne.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We may just as well have a game now, +mayn’t we, Daphne?” she urged. “Or is it +bad for Captain Arden to play billiards?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s remarkably good for him,” said Anthony, +quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had an intense desire to get Kitty away +from Miss Mellicot. Of course it was Kitty +who was behaving badly, but, curiously +enough, it was not Miss Mellicot whom Anthony +wished to take away from Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Miss Mellicot behaved extremely well. It +is quite compatible with behaving well to look +like one of the Muses in the Vatican. There is +a didactic Muse fronting the stairs, who keeps a +thin little finger very levelly lifted. She seems +to warn the approaching onlooker not to be +carried away by his feelings.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Miss Mellicot did not lift her finger. She +merely turned her eyes a little fixedly on Anthony. +Anthony avoided her glance. Perhaps +some day it would be his domestic duty to +meet fixed glances and reply to them, but at +present he slipped into fluidity. He hurried +out of the room behind Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they were in the hall, with the door +shut, Kitty turned and laughed at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now,” she said, “I know you are <span class='it'>really</span> +brave, Captain Arden. Do you know how I +should describe Miss Mellicot?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Anthony; “but I have no doubt +your description would be picturesque and a little +unfair.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, it wouldn’t,” said Kitty, petulantly, +throwing open the billiard-room door. “I +shouldn’t be a bit unfair to her. I should describe +her as a perfect wife and mother.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony found himself saying in a tone +which he had never dreamed of using with Ruth +Mellicot:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>You</span> deserve to have your ears boxed.” +But it was a perfectly suitable tone to use with +Kitty. She merely made a face at him over +her shoulder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He watched her with delight swing down her +cue and chalk it. She had fine little hands and +delicate wrists; her short skirts revealed the +neatest feet and ankles Anthony had ever seen. +Every line of her small, graceful figure told. +She was beautifully dressed, with that unnecessary +expensive luxury which Ruth and Anthony +had mutually deplored in modern +women.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony could hear the rustle of her silk petticoats +as she swung round, and see through her +transparent chiffon blouse the lace and ribbons +under it. Kitty’s lips were artificially reddened, +and her small, tip-tilted nose was powdered. +She had taken no pains to disguise the +fact. She was a minx, a flirt, and a perfectly +obvious danger-signal to any sane man.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And yet almost all sane men would have done +precisely what Anthony did. He followed her +into the billiard-room to see what she was up to.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She heaved a little sigh of relief when the +door closed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t really like women, you know,” she +told him, “except Daphne, and not Daphne +when she’s cross with me, and she’s awfully +cross with me to-day. Still she’s generally +kind to me; other women aren’t.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I should hardly suppose that you gave them +much reason to be,” said Anthony, with his eyes +on the poise of her figure bending over the +table.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Still,” said Kitty, looking up at him with +dancing eyes, “I don’t know that I give men +much <span class='it'>reason</span>, and yet men are always kind to +me, even awfully clever ones like you. And +even when I behave—and I do sometimes behave, +you know—like a perfect fiend.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can well believe it,” said Anthony. “Do +you like to start, or shall I?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not believe that Kitty could +really play billiards. He thought billiards was +one of her ways of escape from other women. +But he was mistaken. Kitty played a most excellent +game of billiards, and was really fond +of it; only she could play more than one game +at a time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m being a fiend now,” said Kitty in a +low voice, like a subdued child’s. “Perhaps +you didn’t know it, but I am—a fiend to +Daphne. I promised not to come all the while +you were here. Wasn’t it awful to break it, +when Daphne’s been so tremendously good to +me, and Jim, too, only Jim doesn’t count. +And it wasn’t true about the tea—it was just +curiosity.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Anthony, “I hope your curiosity +is satisfied agreeably. May I ask why +you promised not to come here during my +visit?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty measured her shot carefully, took it +successfully, and looked up at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Daphne thought I should be bad for you,” +she said. “You see, I am usually supposed to +be rather bad for men.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony aimed, and missed. It was an easy +stroke and Anthony couldn’t think how he had +come to miss it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you try to be?” he asked her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty hung her head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes I try to be,” said Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you trying now?” Anthony asked her. +“Because I rather fancy you’re putting me off +my game.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to do that,” said Kitty, +quickly; “not a bit. Do you <span class='it'>like</span> Miss Mellicot? +Is she a great comfort to you, I mean? +If you were unhappy, you couldn’t put your +head against her as if she were a cushion, could +you? It would be rather like leaning against +one of those marble block tombstones, the ones +that lie flat on the ground, and you feel no one +could resurrect under them. Of course she has +quite a good figure, really; only I’m <span class='it'>sure</span> her +bones are hard.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I have not attempted to take that particular +form of comfort from Miss Mellicot, if that is +what you are asking me,” said Anthony, trying +hard to keep his gravity. “It’s your turn, +I think. I’ve missed again; there must be +something wrong about my confounded cue.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Use mine for a change,” said Kitty, +sweetly. “I hope you don’t mind what I said +about Miss Mellicot’s bones?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not mean to touch Kitty’s hand; +the thing simply happened. He felt it slim and +warm under his fingers. Kitty’s long eyelashes +fell over her eyes and hid them. He +could not tell if what had happened had happened +purposely; he only knew that it was difficult +to take away his hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t said if you really like her,” +declared Kitty after a pause.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I really like her very much,” said Anthony, +dryly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now it’s your turn again,” said Kitty, +gaily. “You ought to be more careful this +time, Captain Arden. I don’t believe you took +aim properly before. I’m rather glad you like +her as little as that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It occurred to Anthony that probably when +other men were alone with Kitty, and she said +this kind of thing, they kissed her. The +thought of it stung him intolerably.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” he said fiercely, “why do you +talk to me as if you cared a hang what I think +of anybody? You know you don’t. I suppose +it’s your usual way of talking to men +you’ve met half an hour ago, but I tell you +plainly I don’t care for it. You’ve no right to +behave as if it mattered to you what I think +when it doesn’t, or as if it mattered to me what +<span class='it'>you</span> think when—when—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When it doesn’t?” asked Kitty, softly. +“It’s rather horrid of you to say that, even if +it’s true.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, you haven’t any right—” said Anthony, +sulkily. He wouldn’t look at her, but +he knew perfectly well what she looked like. +She had caught her upper lip with one of her +teeth and was trying to prevent herself smiling.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“As if having rights mattered,” said Kitty. +“You are silly, Captain Arden.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony put down his cue deliberately and +faced her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know this game,” he said quietly. +“Am I supposed to kiss you? Because in +about twenty seconds that is what is going +to happen whether I am supposed to or +not.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty tossed her head defiantly, then said unexpectedly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am a mean little cur to break my +promise to Daphne,” and without a word of +explanation she flung herself into one of Jim’s +neat leather arm-chairs, buried her head in her +arms, and shook pitifully with sobs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony found himself on his knees beside +her, with one arm across her shoulders.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t; don’t, my dear child, my dear baby!” +he whispered. “If I was a brute and rough, +I’m awfully sorry. I won’t touch you. You +can say whatever naughty, silly thing you like. +Is that what you’re crying for?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty shook her head. She was crying without +tears, as boys do who have been beaten in +a race.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony drew her into his arms and held +her close against him. She made no effort to +release herself, nor did she seem aware of him. +She fought silently to control her sobs. Anthony +felt as if he had a bird’s heart throbbing +under his hand. She was such an exquisite, +delicate creature! Perfume and softness +breathed from her small crushed figure. At +last Kitty raised her head and pushed away his +encircling arms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I know it wasn’t +fair even to cry; but I couldn’t help that. +Just for a moment you looked, when you were +angry, so like Dick—that was why I came to +see you; I have such a funny feeling, as if I +must see the men who do come back. You see, +Dick and I were engaged. But he went off so +quickly, before we could be married. He was +in the regular army—Mons—and then he was +missing. I couldn’t stop hoping. I hoped +quite awfully and steadily for two years, then +I knew it was no good. I didn’t care what +happened then. I don’t care now, and I never +shall in the least care what happens. I just +amuse myself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony put his hands on her shoulders and +met her defiant eyes; beneath the defiance he +saw her frightened, broken heart.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He saw her as Daphne had seen her, not as +the easier men who flirted with her saw her, or +as the angry women whose jealousy she roused +saw her. The pity and the waste of it went +through him like a knife.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You poor little thing!” he said gently. +“You poor, dear little thing!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She sprang away from him quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no,” she said; “I’m <span class='it'>not</span> like that. I’m +not poor. You needn’t be sorry for me. I do +just as I like, and I enjoy myself awfully. I +dare say I shall enjoy myself awfully with you. +I’m sorry I made such a fuss. I haven’t +cried like that for ages. It was just—that you +reminded me; besides, I could see you’ve had +a pretty bad time yourself. If you’d really +liked that woman, I’d have left you alone. +You do believe that, don’t you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I propose to believe everything you ever tell +me,” said Anthony, steadily. “But aren’t you +going to leave me alone?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She turned and faced him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you want me to?” Kitty asked. Her +eyes widened again, the corners of her mouth +quivered, all of her became as it had been before—a +glittering, dancing, creature, as bright +and strong as a steel magnet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony made a few steps toward her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” he said reluctantly; “I suppose I don’t +want you to leave me alone.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Miss Mellicot behaved extremely +well. She did not go away at once, and +she never in Anthony’s presence referred to +Kitty. What she said to Daphne on the subject +of Kitty, in the privacy of her bedroom, +might have been taken from the most outspoken +of the classics. She had not been to Girton for +nothing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Miss Mellicot was direct, and in her quiet and +ladylike voice she stripped the career of Kitty +Costrelle of all the pity and tenderness with +which Daphne had attempted to cover it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It does not do to sentimentalize about facts, +Daphne,” Ruth told her. “This is the kind of +girl you have chosen for a friend, and your +brother, whose judgment is much less sound +than I thought, has had to take the consequences.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“As if,” Daphne said afterward indignantly +to Jim, “you could arrange human beings in +pockets, like cocoa—so much hot water to so +much sugar—and know exactly what kind of +cup you were going to get at the end of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But at the time Daphne could think of no +evasive comparisons. She was crushed under +the weight of fact. She had gone to Ruth’s +bedroom because she was afraid that Ruth +would be unhappy, but Ruth was not unhappy. +She was very seldom unhappy, and she was almost +invariably right.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy drove Miss Mellicot to the station at +the end of the week, when her visit came to a +not too noticeable close.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had meant to fulfil this office, but +he came in so late for lunch that he had to be +left in the dining-room with some reproachfully +cold mince.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony assured himself that he was under +no obligation to Miss Mellicot, and that she was +far too sensible a woman to suppose that he +was; but as he stood by the French window in +the dining-room watching her drive off with +Jim, he felt a little uncomfortable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Miss Mellicot looked very well in a high dog-cart. +Her veils and pins never betrayed her, +and she kept her hat on without visible effort. +These traits are indicative of character, the kind +of character which Anthony particularly liked; +and yet when the dog-cart had disappeared +from view behind the laurel-bushes, Anthony +returned to his cold mince with a sigh of unmistakable +relief.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had kept his own counsel for forty-eight +hours while he considered that he was thinking +things over. Anthony told himself that he was +not going to act precipitately about Kitty. He +was going to ask Daphne a few straight questions +first.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When he had finished his lunch he went out +into the garden to ask them. Merry Gardens +was not an old place, like Pannell; it was a +comfortable, two-storied house, which rambled +conveniently enough between a cedar-tree on a +small, sloping lawn to the edge of the fields, +which swallowed it up on three sides.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne lay in a hammock under the cedar-tree +planning new beds for the following spring. +It was an absorbing occupation, and peculiarly +difficult to carry on in a hammock, owing to the +size of garden-books, the fluttering quality of +catalogues, and the hopelessness (in a hammock) +of once letting go of a pencil.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She did not hear Anthony approach, and he +sat for some time gazing straight in front of +him before he broached the question of Kitty. +His eyes absorbed the pleasant, easy landscape +of Rochett.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Essex is supposed to be an ugly county by +those who do not live in it, but it contrives, once +you get away from the endless ramifications of +Liverpool Street Station, to have a very pretty +little air of its own. It is like one of those +women who, without being showily attractive, +know how to carry their heads.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As a county it frequently ignores its reputation +for flatness, and breaks away into the +roundness of small, covered hills, and no one +has ever accused Essex of not being green.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>From the cedar-tree on the lawn the fields +sloped softly away into innumerable folds of +wooded copse and distant orchards. The rich +pasture-lands glowed in the mild April sunshine +with a light that was all their own. It +had none of the emphatic clarity of the South, +or the delicate, fine shades of northern Europe; +it was a soft and lovely coloring that caused +in Anthony an unexpected tightening of the +heart.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When he had been given six weeks’ solitary +confinement in a whitewashed cell for making +too many complaints about the condition of his +camp, he had been haunted by just such a landscape. +He slipped his hand out to touch the +rough bark of the cedar, to make sure of himself. +He did not want to wake up suddenly +and find the picture fade.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He wanted to keep the green blur of fields, +the small group of cottages looking as if they +were a thatched and mossy plant native to the +soil itself, and the spire of the thick-set church +across the village green safe in his eyes forever. +Something in the tension of his figure caught +his sister’s attention. She looked up quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Anthony,” she said, “how quietly you +came out and how still you are! You look as +if you were holding everything still with you, +except, of course, my catalogues of Dutch +bulbs. The attempts they make to get over the +side of the hammock nobody could control. +Poor Ruth! Did you see her drive away? +She’s so nice, really. I half hoped, and half +didn’t hope, you’d like her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That,” said Anthony, feeling suddenly +freed from the fixity of his attention, “was exactly +how I liked her. Would you mind telling +me why you asked Miss Costrelle not to come +here during my visit? She made me feel rather +a fool when she told me it was your arrangement +to keep her out of the house while I was +here. Did you suppose I couldn’t keep my +head with a pretty girl, or had you anything in +particular against her? Forgive me for asking +you, but I want to make up my mind about +going to see her. I haven’t been yet, you +know. I felt I couldn’t; but I’d rather like +to now, unless there is some very definite reason +against it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wasn’t thinking of your head being +turned,” said Daphne, slowly. She knew this +question would come, and she had tried to prepare +herself to meet it; but she wished that +Jimmy were with her to give her the security +of his admiration. She felt her tact might be +a little fallible before Anthony’s keen, gray +eyes. “I was thinking most, I suppose, of poor +little Kitty. But of course I thought of you, +too, Anthony; I didn’t want you to be disturbed. +You’ve got so many new things to get +used to, and Kitty would be rather a tremendous +new one if you really got intimate with +her. She wouldn’t be like Ruth, an experience +you can take or leave in cold blood.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t wish to take life like a nursing +home,” interrupted Anthony a little unfairly, +for Ruth was not like a nursing home. “But +why ‘poor Kitty’? You might tell me, I think, +a little more about Miss Costrelle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’ll tell you anything,” agreed Daphne, +rapidly, “anything I can, of course, and I know +what you mean about life; only there’s rather +a difference between taking it like a nursing +home and taking it like the Niagara Rapids.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jimmy knew Kitty first, before he knew me, +you know, and one day he told me about her, +after her lover was killed. Jimmy was sure he +was killed in 1914. Kitty was awfully plucky. +She drove a motor-ambulance in France for +two years without a break. She was considered +one of their very best drivers. She never +seemed to mind what she did or where she went, +or what she saw; she seemed made of iron and +fire. And then, of course, she broke down. +No one could have stood her unrelenting work, +and no one could stop her. When she stopped +she just gave up everything—hope and her +old habits and her work. She came back here, +an unprotected little flame, burning whatever +she came across. Nothing could persuade her +to settle down or take up any fresh interests.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Her father is a perfect old rip who used to +own most of the land about here. He has succeeded +in getting rid of all of it except an old +farm-house he fortunately settled on Kitty as +a present when she came of age. She lives +there now, on and off, with an old nurse, and a +French cook she picked up on her travels, and +I believe her father turns up occasionally for +week-ends. The greater part of his life is spent +in London with a queer collection of blackguards +and anonymous ladies.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jimmy and I have tried awfully hard to get +Kitty received in the neighborhood. She used +to be, of course, but now people are inclined to +cold-shoulder her. She won’t go to church or +do any of the usual things, and of course, as you +see for yourself, she flirts with every man she +comes across. I knew, if she saw you, she’d at +least attempt it with you, and I don’t believe +you know how to flirt—do you, Anthony?—properly.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not at all sure I couldn’t learn,” said +Anthony, consideringly, lighting a cigarette. +“Of course it was quite sensible of you and Jim +to try to get her out of my way; but now that +she’s come and seen and conquered what do +you propose to do about it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you want me to do about it?” asked +Daphne. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I want you to do,” said Anthony, +throwing away his match—“leave us +alone. I won’t do Miss Costrelle any particular +harm if I can help it, but I don’t propose to +cut her acquaintance merely because she has had +an unfortunate bringing-up and indulges in a +risqué manner. It will be an interesting experience +for me to know a flirt.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne said nothing. If this was the result +of forty-eight hours’ solid reflection on the part +of Anthony, she doubted if anything she could +say would add to the weight of it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt sure from his knowledge of +women that if Daphne had anything to urge +against Kitty, she would very properly have +urged it. She would not have invented adverse +facts, but she would have stated picturesquely +what adverse facts there were. He argued +from her silence that there was none. He was +relieved by Daphne’s account of Kitty, and he +did not realize that he had intended to be relieved +by whatever account of Kitty he received.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He met Kitty on his way to the farm. She +was driving a two-seated, rakish car round a +precipitous corner. She pulled up when she +saw him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your brother-in-law is a splendid whip,” +she observed. “I came right on to him suddenly +at the end of Clatter’s Lane. I didn’t +do it on purpose, but there’s an awfully sharp +turn, and I wasn’t expecting anything. I got +by without touching the cart, but Polly bolted. +Miss Mellicot didn’t scream. She just held +her hat on most sensibly. She wears rather +hard hats, doesn’t she? Jim swore.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did you happen to see the result of Polly’s +bolting?” Anthony asked with what gravity +he could muster.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had on a purple slouch hat drawn +nearly over her eyes, and tied by a long, purple +scarf. She wore amethyst ear-rings, and a big +bunch of Neapolitan violets was pinned to her +breast. These facts served to reduce the +anxiety with which Anthony waited to hear +the fate of the dog-cart.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Jimmy must have got her in hand all +right,” said Kitty, easily. “They’d be back by +now in pieces if he hadn’t. You ought to have +driven Miss Mellicot to the station yourself, +you know, Captain Arden. I do think it was +rather shabby of you not to. Do you want to +have a spin in my car? I’ll take you if Daphne +knows you were coming to see me. You were +coming to see me, weren’t you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony nodded, and got into the car. +Kitty turned it toward the distant hills without +waiting for a further answer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Daphne knows perfectly,” said Anthony at +length, “what my plans are, and she’s been telling +me all about you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty kept her eyes on the road without +speaking. They flew along in silence for a few +minutes. Then she said in a curious, flat little +voice:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Whatever she said was true, you know, +Captain Arden.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She might have told me,” said Anthony as +they shot through the village and tore breathlessly +to left and right down country lanes and +palpitating commons, “that you habitually exceeded +the speed limit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wonder she didn’t tell you that,” said +Kitty, with a sudden dimple. “But perhaps +she thought that, as you were so very clever, +you would have guessed it. D’you mind how +fast we go?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shook his head. He wasn’t going +to explain to Kitty what it felt like, after sitting +for two years in a small compound watching a +man with a gun on the other side of a barbed-wire +fence, with a wall beyond it, to be melting +through space with the rapidity of a flying +cloud.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was not sure that he was afraid, but the +sense of habitual unreality which possessed +him was sharper than ever before. He felt +as if some fine cord connecting him with the +universe had been severed, and that he might +at any moment find himself carried off into +bottomless space. He lost the sense of his +own body, and held on to his racing mind +with all the strength that was left in him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was difficult to talk while Kitty was driving. +She shaved disaster habitually by the +turn of a hair; her small, steady hand barely +touched the steering-wheel; her eyes ate up +the oncoming road with a searching eagerness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There were moments when it seemed to +Anthony that she was not aware of what she +was doing: she drove in a trance of speed. +The wind caught her hair and blew it flat +against her face, then lifted it suddenly, revealing +her long-lashed, sparkling eyes, shining +as water shines when trees are blown backward +from a hidden pool. Her lips were +parted with a fierce enjoyment. The purple +scarf furled and unfurled itself against Anthony’s +cheek.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Once or twice she turned her head toward +him and laughed a little.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your nerve seems to be all right,” she assured +him when they had escaped a donkey-cart +by a miracle and hustled a perilous pathway +through a herd of cows. “I wonder +what it feels like to be afraid of being hurt,” +she added speculatively. “I don’t mean disliking +it. I dislike it myself intensely, but +I can’t imagine not doing anything I wanted +because I was afraid of anything, can you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I can,” said Anthony, looking away +from her. “I can imagine being afraid of all +sorts of things—noises—angry voices, people’s +eyes, not getting food when your whole body +aches for it, thinking that perhaps you are +going to be left without water, or seeing +things that haven’t happened, but which you +know <span class='it'>may</span> happen. Look here, don’t let’s +talk about fear, Miss Costrelle. It’s something +that’s inside you, and fierce, like a wild +beast in a cage; it’s all right if you keep the +bars shut. I can manage all my wild beasts +quite comfortably then, but I don’t want to +feel as if any one’s hand was on the lock, fingering +at the bars. Understand fear? I can +understand any mortal thing about fear except +people’s being able to overcome it. That +I haven’t been able to understand. Do you +despise me for being a coward, or think I +shall get quite right with plenty of good hard +exercise and a quart of milk a day?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Miss Mellicot said that, didn’t she?” +asked Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She put on speed for a long stretch of flat +road, and then looked at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I don’t think you’re a coward,” +she said. “I didn’t mean that kind of +being afraid, though perhaps it helps you to +understand the <span class='it'>personal-skin</span> fear, which was +what I did mean.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I have that, too,” said Anthony, quietly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Kitty, gently, “if you have, +you’ll just set your teeth and hold on. The +people I mean don’t. They let their teeth +and everything else go. They expect to be +held on <span class='it'>to</span>. I know you aren’t like them; +that’s why I want to be friends. It’s rather +fine when you know how, isn’t it? I don’t +mean being friends, but just setting your +teeth and holding on. Would you prefer being +a dormouse and sleeping through all your +winters?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you’re not given the blessed chance,” +said Anthony. “I’d close with the dormouse +to-morrow, Miss Costrelle, if I had the choice; +but it’s winters during which my imagination +is particularly lively. Why do you drive with +your gloves off? You’ll get your hands +cold.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You can warm them if you like,” said +Kitty, calmly, “turn and turn about. I can +drive just as easily with my left hand. I like +to see my rings when I’m driving.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s very nice of you,” said Anthony, “to +make me such an offer; but I don’t propose to +have any of your friends, or even enemies, +witness—what shall I call them?—your gloveless +vagaries.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re too particular,” said Kitty. +“Other men aren’t so particular, Captain +Arden.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shot a vexed glance at her. Why +was she like a charming, confidential child one +moment, and an Eve with the hard knowledge +of the ages in her the next?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t intend to treat you as you imply +other men treat you,” he said coldly. “I have +my own methods.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They treat me,” said Kitty, defiantly, “exactly +as I intend to have them treat me. I believe +you think that I’m a poor little persecuted +angel half the time and a maddening little +fool the other half. I’m nothing of the +kind. I’m twenty-three, and I know my way +about considerably better than you do. Shall +I drop you here? We’ve come another way +round. My house is up this lane and then to +the right. Be rather careful how you turn, for +I’m apt to come suddenly round the corner, +and I always forget to sound my horn till afterward. +I’m expecting my one and only parent +just now, so I sha’n’t ask you in. He’s a very +entertaining person. I can’t say you’re very +entertaining yourself, Captain Arden, but I +dare say I shall get used to you in time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad to hear that,” said Anthony, “because +it sounds as if you mean to give me time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty pulled up to let him out. There was +no one in the lane, and Anthony put his hand +over hers and held it there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked at him moodily with eyes which +had suddenly turned dark and lifeless.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had never seen a face which depended +so for its beauty upon its expression. +When Kitty wished, her face became like a +house with all its blinds down. She shut out +everything, even her prettiness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For a moment she looked like that now, speculative +and sulky, as if she questioned Anthony’s +possible worth to her, and was annoyed +with him for not possessing it more obviously. +Then she shrugged her shoulders and +withdrew her hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” she said petulantly, “I suppose I +do. You’re rather strong-minded and odd, +and I dare say you’ll amuse me for a time. +Only, for goodness’ sake, don’t try to take care +of me or show me what I’m <span class='it'>not</span> like and ought +to be! I really couldn’t stand that. I’m +just what I <span class='it'>am</span>, you know, and you’re just +what you are, and that’s quite different.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And if you’ve done with some of those Neapolitan +violets,” said Anthony, unexpectedly +to himself, “you can hand them over to me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed, and unfastened the bunch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You can have them all,” she said. “Father +will only ask who I put them on for!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want all,” explained Anthony, carefully; +“I want exactly half.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He took them from her as he spoke, and repinned +the rest with a steady hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You do pin flowers on nicely,” Kitty remarked. +“I will say that for you. Most men +expect pins to stick into space, and let the flowers +dribble all over you. I suppose it’s because +you’re a doctor. You have a wonderfully +steady hand, Captain Arden, even for a +doctor.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s just as well,” explained Anthony, +laughing at her. “You should know that you +are not as intoxicating as you appear to imagine. +I’m very pleased to have the violets, but +they don’t excite me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That sounds rather like a challenge,” said +Kitty, while the laughter shot back into her +eyes again. “A dangerous kind of challenge +for you to make, coming on the top of the +violets.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, but I got my half safely first,” said +Anthony. “I ran no risk over it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You got half of what I didn’t want,” +agreed Kitty, still laughing. “Good-by, Captain +Arden. Don’t be too sure about that +risk.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She shot away from him through the leafy +lane. The boughs met over her head and hid +her from his eyes. The lane seemed curiously +still and empty after she had gone; almost as +if the spring had followed her out of it.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew that Daphne and Jim +disapproved of his intimacy with Kitty. +They never interfered with him and they never +let their disapproval out in words, but it was +as solid as a mahogany table. They used the +silent pressure of sensible and kindly people +who expect common sense to triumph in the +end if nothing is done to rouse bad blood by +argument. They didn’t invite Kitty to the +house, and they never asked Anthony where he +had been.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>On one occasion Jim, at Daphne’s instigation, +went a shade further: he made a statement +about Kitty that was not in her favor.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s no use my saying anything,” Daphne +privately urged him. “You see, men like Anthony +believe what other men tell them about +women, when they won’t believe what other +women tell them. If I say anything about +Kitty, Anthony’ll think it’s because I’m fond +of him or vexed with Kitty or recently married; +but he’ll think you <span class='it'>know</span>. Put it in your +own words, of course; it’ll be worse if he thinks +I’m behind you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jim cleared his throat. He had not even +told Daphne what he thought about Kitty in +his own words. Men’s thoughts about Kitty +eluded words. They did not think about her; +they felt her. But Jim realized quite as +strongly as Daphne that it would be a good +thing to pull Anthony up.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The trouble is,” he explained a little uncertainly, +“that you never know about a girl—whether +you’re pulling a man up or setting +him on by letting fly at her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t let fly at her!” cried Daphne, suddenly +remorseful. “Poor little Kitty! Just +say what she <span class='it'>is</span>, you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jim grunted. As if he could say what +Kitty was without letting fly at her! He was +not yet accustomed to the way in which Daphne +slipped between the meshes of fact.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jim chose the occasion when he was walking +to the post with Anthony and Kitty whirled by +them in a cloud of dust. He stopped to choke, +and turned to look after her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There,” he remarked, with unmistakable +emphasis, “goes a piece of pretty hot stuff.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He couldn’t have put it more plainly. Anthony’s +face set hard; he made no answer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His mind set hard, too. He wasn’t going +to accept any one else’s estimate of Kitty. He +had got into the habit of living against current +opinion when he was a prisoner, and he knew +its value. You just said to your mind, “It is +a lie,” and forced your will to accept it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>You said it in the face of newspapers, +guards, commandants, and the swift inroads of +rumor, and it enabled you to live equably and +indifferently among the broken pieces of your +fears.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was in love for the first time in his +life, and every one wished him to believe that +the object of his love was worthless. Daphne +and Jim, with their serene and prosperous happiness, +wished him to believe it; a peculiarly +stupid and suburban neighborhood offered him +their cold shoulders as a proof; and Kitty herself +made intermittent efforts to convince him +of the same fact.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was convinced of nothing beyond +the sense of Kitty’s presence. She was everywhere, +whether she was worthless or not. +When he wasn’t with her, he saw her, and +heard through whatever else he was listening +to, the sound of Kitty’s voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had no terms for what he felt for Kitty. +She was part of the spring. The little dawn +wind spoke of her; when he looked out of his +window into the apple-blossoms, it was to see +her face. He heard her hurrying voice in the +thrushes’ songs; a group of silver birches at the +garden’s edge were counterparts of Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty wasn’t very tall, and though she was +slender, her figure had not the dignity of a +silver birch. Her small, provocative face was +artificially whitened and not the least like the +apple-blossom; her voice was never for long as +innocent of innuendo as a thrush’s; and for all +these divergencies from his dreams Anthony +had for Kitty a fiercer tenderness. She was no +longer a single “experience,” however interesting. +She had become for Anthony the medium +of the spirit of life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had never been in love before, and +he was unaware that love concentrates the +forces of the soul into one channel, and then, +transcending concentration, breaks its expression +over all the world. He only knew that +there were a dozen different Kittys and that he +loved them all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He loved the wicked Kitty, who played on +him as if he were an instrument; the gay, nonchalant, +flirtatious Kitty, who never let him +feel unaware of a secret relationship between +them, which might mean anything forever, and +the next moment be as finished as a blown +candle. He loved the child Kitty, who asked +him what the Elizabethans were, with a secret +hope that they might turn out to be negro minstrels. +She loved people with banjos.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Perhaps Anthony cared for this ignorant +child Kitty most of all; he felt he could hardly +bear to have her out of his sight. And he loved +his dear, confiding comrade Kitty, who told +him what he ought to do when he couldn’t +sleep, and poured out to him the nuisance +money was when you hadn’t got enough. +Father always supposed they had more till +they found, of course, it was ever so much less. +Anthony gathered that father was a great dear, +if only people weren’t such sharks. The +world, according to Kitty, was divided into +sharks and prudes: the sharks (horrid tradespeople +who would send in bills when you +hadn’t paid them for years and couldn’t be expected +to) used up your money, and the prudes +prevented you from enjoying what was left.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And there was the cruel Kitty. Anthony +put her last in his mind because it hurt him to +think of Kitty as cruel. This Kitty was an +Ishmaelitish woman whose hand was against +every woman, and every woman’s hand against +her. Kitty could be very cruel to other +women. She left no man alone who belonged +to them, she wounded the pride of happy +women new to love, and she struck at their +trust in their lovers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She did it deliberately, with hard eyes and +malicious laughter. She knew that she could +set men alight, and she used her power indiscriminately. +She made herself cheap in order +to attract attention; but making herself cheap +paid. Kitty always secured short successes. +Sometimes they were short because Kitty +didn’t want to go on with them, but often because, +after their first response to her, the men +collected themselves and made a successful resistance. +But whether they succeeded in resisting +her or she succeeded in attracting them, +Kitty always laughed. She laughed at the +men for being such fools as to yield to her; +she laughed at the other women for minding, +because, as she pointed out to Anthony, she +really wouldn’t have done it if the other women +hadn’t minded; and she laughed at herself +for not always being able to pull it off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was as if she did not care for her own +discredit, and this was what hurt Anthony +sharpest. One cannot protect people who do +not mind discrediting themselves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Anthony +argued defensively to himself. “She’s +only twenty-three. Girls are blind to passion; +they’re brought up blind and explosive. It’s +a wicked combination, and they’re the first +victims of the explosion when it takes place, +though they are not the only victims, of course! +We’re wretchedly uncivilized, and our worst +sign of it is our fear of revealing nature to +the young. They’ve got to handle it, and not +to warn them is like putting a gun into a +child’s hands and not telling him what happens +when you pull the trigger.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony assured himself that Kitty did not +know what happened when one pulled the trigger. +He let life slip between him and his wits, +he forgot Pannell, and he even put aside the +preoccupation of his profession. He had some +excuse for this, for a surgeon must have steady +hands, and his hands were not quite steady +yet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Rochett was doing what it could for Anthony, +and spring had set itself into his heart, +but his raw nerves were not wholly covered +yet. He could not count on his serenity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Every morning he woke at dawn to listen +to the country sounds. The earth stirred at +three o’clock in a faint, gray light—a light +which was like the mere absence of darkness. +All the birds moved in their nests at its approach, +and shook out a sleepy protest before +they sank into their last short sleep. A wind +sprang up suddenly and passed across the +fields with a faint shuddering of shaken leaves; +sometimes a brief shower fell, a hurrying small +shower, leaving behind it the sweetness of the +visited earth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony would lean out of his open window, +watching the light come across the sloping +fields. The big row of elms at the foot of the +apple-orchard moved first; they drove their +heavy, grave heads out of the dark, and between +them the gray, clear fields tentatively +took color.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The apple-orchard beyond the kitchen-garden +became for a brief moment an unearthly +splendor; the white and pink of its blossoms +shone like an alabaster screen. The light +deepened and kindled under a colorless sky; +pink clouds floated up into it with golden +edges; the sunshine came softly without fire. +There was no direct moment of transformation +before Anthony found the flowers in the garden +had their natural colors, the fields their dew-washed +green, and all the quiet land its daily +covering of tranquil light.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony drank in the sounds of life, the little +regular country sounds, with a quickened +sense of reassurance and returning energy. +The mildness of England sank into his being, +not all at once, and not with the blinding +ecstasy he had expected, but at last it came. +He felt he was at home and free. He slept +quietly at night, and when he woke he knew +before he remembered that nothing terrible was +going to happen. He found himself not able +to say which was stronger in him, love of +Kitty or love of England. Both consumed +and restored him, and at first Kitty helped +England to quiet Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It pleased her to see him happy, to make +his restless, haunted eyes turn to laughter, to +watch his strained senses relax under her confident +gentleness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He didn’t make love to her. This was odd, +of course, but Kitty rather liked it. His eyes +showed her that he felt for her the hungry, +obedient worship of a good dog. He looked +at her with all the gentleness of a first passion +before it turns to fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not a weak person, but when +he looked at Kitty his eyes were often as appealing +as a child’s.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He tremendously wanted her to be kind to +him; and sometimes Kitty was cold and hard +and shut him out of her eyes. She wanted +him to entertain her, and took the life out of +him by showing him that he didn’t. Or she +tried to hurt him by saying reckless things. +Kitty didn’t have to try very hard in this +direction; she knew she could always hurt Anthony +by depreciating herself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was the way she punished him for his occasional +attempts to hold her in. Anthony always +wanted to take care of Kitty. In order +to take care of her, it was necessary to see as +much of her as possible. The really awkward +part of this task was the little that is possible +in censorious small places like Rochett, when +sooner or later people have to be in for meals, +and neighbors do not acknowledge the lengthening +out of spring evenings as a definite alteration +to the clock.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Of course Anthony met Kitty every day, but +this wasn’t nearly enough for him. There +was all the part of the day when he wasn’t +with her, when she might get her feet wet, or +break without the immunity of his protection +into some danger zone of mischief.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty couldn’t be expected to know the +perils of life when Anthony wasn’t there. +She hadn’t known them before he came, and +she only laughed when he tried to point them +out to her and to lay down laws and arrangements +for the rest of her time. She either +laughed or she grew a little restive; and when +she grew restive, Anthony, who knew that +nothing in the world could hold her, least of +all his heart, quickly withdrew his claims.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He told her that of course he wouldn’t +bother her; she must do exactly as she liked, +only for his sake to be a little careful. And +Kitty laughed still more. It was so absurd of +Anthony to suppose for a single moment that +she wouldn’t do exactly what she liked whether +he told her to or not. But it was nice of him +to want her to be careful; it was not what men +usually wanted of Kitty.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had never had many advantages, +but there had been a time when to be +Kitty was in itself an advantage. Her mother +died at her birth, and her father, though she +was the only human being he really loved, +was very little with her; he preferred his +caprices to his affections. But Kitty did not +miss either of her natural protectors very +deeply. She had Peckham, and though Peckham +was only an old nurse, she was a selfless +fount of love; from a bump to a dead bird +she was all attention, consolation, and reward.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Nothing that Kitty cared for escaped Peckham, +and she stood solid and aggressive between +Kitty and her occasional fears. Peckham +was unable always to provide Kitty with +what she wanted—the brass eagle off the lectern +and the housekeeper’s blue beads were a +case in point—but she strained every nerve +to procure substitutes. In all her happy childhood +Kitty never knew what it was to be deliberately +thwarted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And then there was Dick. One said one’s +prayers to God, but everything else one said +to Dick. Dick was the eldest son of the retired +rector, an enchanting personage who did +not preach sermons and who always went about +with sweets in his pocket. He was the only +pillar of the church who ever attracted Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dick’s people lived across the river, at the +foot of the garden. There was an island in +the river, and Dick made a bridge from his +garden to the island, and from the island to +Kitty’s garden. Long before the bridge was +built, when they were only babies, they were +taken solemnly by the road to tea, to play with +each other.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Whenever Kitty fell down, Dick, who was +a year older, picked her up; and whatever Dick +was given, he gave half of it to Kitty. Even +his catapult he lent her. It was one of those +strange affections which transcend relationship +and never alter except to deepen as the +years pass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They took their first plunge into life together, +hand in hand, and it never occurred to +either of them to have a separate thought. +They played together every day until Dick +went to school, and they broke their hearts +over the agonizing separations, between the +golden flashes of the holidays. The gloom was +slightly lifted for Kitty by Dick’s rabbits +(they were carefully transferred to her across +the bridge, hutch by hutch) and to Dick by +her scrawled bulletins as to their increasing and +pervasive families.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When he came back they still played together. +Other boys had entered into Dick’s +life to war with feminine influences, but they +did not touch his feelings for Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had none of the distinctive markings +of a girl; she might just as well have been another +boy. Dick’s favorite pursuits were hers. +There was no tree she feared to climb, she +ran like a deer, and her high jumps cleared +her own height. She was more unexpected +than boys usually are, but she was just as +truthful, just as loyal, just as plucky.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She did not stop being a comrade until Dick +was eighteen, and then she became everything +else. The comrade was still there, but submerged in something so tremendous and inspiring, +so exciting and yet so intensely secure, +that Dick found no words to explain even to +Kitty what he felt for her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Kitty didn’t need Dick’s words. +What happened first to Dick happened as a +matter of course afterward to Kitty. When +Peckham, unable to bear the responsibility of +the situation, reported upon it to Mr. Costrelle, +he listened to her with amused attention. +Then he said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have they been allowed to see as much +as they liked of each other till now, no opposition +at all, eh?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham in a flutter answered that they +had.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You see, sir,” she explained, “Miss Kitty +being such a tomboy, and Master Dick’s +mother an invalid and never out of the house, I +was hard put to it to think of a reason why +they shouldn’t be together.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, continue not to think of a reason,” +replied Mr. Costrelle, calmly. “Allow them +to be together as much as ever they choose. +They’ll soon get over it. When young people +are permitted to do exactly as they like, they +seldom continue to like it for any length of +time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Not long after this conversation Mr. Costrelle +decided to take Kitty abroad. He was +in the habit of frequent and prolonged visits +to Paris and Monte Carlo. Kitty, accompanied +by intermittent governesses, wouldn’t +be a bother, and Mr. Costrelle wanted her to +be taught to speak French and how to put her +clothes on properly. He did not think these +two subjects easily mastered in his own country.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The only thing a girl need bother her head +about,” Mr. Costrelle explained to Kitty, “is +how to amuse a man and how to get a bit of +her own back. Lots of old women will cram +you up with nonsense; they’ll say a woman +needs education, freedom, equal rights, and +what not. Don’t you believe ’em. Men are +what matter to women, and women are what +matter to men.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“A clever girl hasn’t got equal rights; +she’s got ’em <span class='it'>all</span>, and a girl isn’t clever if +she’s read half the London Library and can’t +make a man who looked at her once want to +look at her again. Make ’em want and keep +’em wanting. You can’t begin too early, but +don’t lose your head over it. That’s where +women make such awful fools of themselves. +They start caring about some fellow and running +him down as if they were a Paris cabby +after a foot-passenger. No man’ll stand it. +Don’t you ever budge, however much you care +for a fellow. Get him keen and then hold him. +Good artificial fly, invisible line, firm hand +at the end of it, feet well against the bank, +and you’ll have your fish landed. D’you see +my point?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty saw her parent’s point; she listened +gravely out of the depths of her seventeen-year-old +wisdom and innocence. She was +never quite so old again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You won’t mind, will you,” she said consideringly, +“if I marry Dick instead, and don’t +play any particular kind of game? You see, +I’d rather marry Dick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Marry whom you like,” said her father, +promptly, “provided he can support you. I +can’t, as you know, and what your mother +wanted to leave you three hundred a year for +God only knows. You can’t even dress on +it. She always was penny wise and pound +foolish. But take my advice. If you want +to keep your husband, learn to play your game. +Any fool can get a husband; look at the sights +who do. ’Pon my word, I saw a woman the +other day with a cast in her eye and a harelip, +with a wedding-ring on. Of course you’d +think there was money back of it, but there +wasn’t. Sheer will power. She’d been after +him like a boa constrictor gets a rabbit. But +that’s not enough to keep a man faithful for +a fortnight. You must learn the ropes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But Dick,” Kitty said reflectively—“couldn’t +I keep Dick without playing a +game? You see, there never have been any +particular ropes with Dick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I never met a man yet,” said Mr. Costrelle, +emphatically, “who didn’t like a woman better +because other men were after her. Besides, +you’ve got yourself to think of. Life’s +chancy. You want to have something to fall +back on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dare say a lot of people—all your mother’s +relations and that stuffy set at Rochett—would +say I ought to have had you educated +to some profession. Well, what I’m teaching +you will pay you better than <span class='it'>any</span> profession. +You never need be at a loss. If +you’re happy with Dick, or whoever you pick +out to be happy with, you can <span class='it'>stay</span> happy; and +if you’re not, by Jove! you can make ’em pay +for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But I’m going to be happy, of course,” +said Kitty, calmly. “I settled all that long +ago, and I sha’n’t want anybody to pay for +it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, make damned sure you can <span class='it'>make</span> +them pay for it if you ever do want it,” urged +Mr. Costrelle. “No use thinking you’ll have +a shy at it later on, when your looks are going. +You might as well race a horse that’s +never learned to start. You take my word +for it, girls and horses need training while +they’re young.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” said Kitty, thoughtfully; “I’ll +train.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It amused Mr. Costrelle extremely to watch +Kitty training, and it didn’t do Kitty any particular +harm then.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her heart was safe, and she learned point +by point, sometimes from a lightly dropped +reflection of her father’s, and more often from +the varied experiences that presented themselves, +the mastery of her subject.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle knew men of all sorts and +of all ages, and they all became sooner or later +the declared admirers of Kitty. Peckham, +perturbed and powerless, watched the strange +procession. She could not interfere with +Kitty’s freedom, but she never left her alone. +She sat and knitted on benches at Monte Carlo, +she reluctantly attended the most risqué of +French plays, she was seasick on board yachts, +and giddy in racing-motors; but Peckham was +always there. Perhaps, owing to this adamant +protection, Kitty flirted serenely on without +disaster. She learned the ways of men, and +little by little she learned the powers of women. +Dick didn’t like it, but he fell deeper in love.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They argued and quarreled about Kitty’s +adventures, but neither of them ever doubted +the other. Their future was plain before them, +and in the depths of their hearts they knew +that there were no other men or any other +women.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Kitty was eighteen Mr. Costrelle insisted +on her spending six weeks in London +with an aunt. Kitty didn’t want to go. She +didn’t like her aunt, with whom she had occasionally +lunched in an awe-inspiring, dark +London dining-room where she had been +stared at reflectively and without kindness by +three girl cousins.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The Mallards were a dull family; still, they +had a large house and a wide acquaintance. +They were modern enough to know what to +go and see, though none of it adhered to them. +No member of the family had ever said anything +worth remembering or had done anything +it was necessary to forget. London +spoke of them as “the dull Mallards,” but it +did speak of them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle, who hardly ever urged any +course of action upon Kitty, virtually insisted +upon the Mallards.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, of course you’ll be bored,” he agreed; +“but, my dear child, at your age what else +can you expect? Young people must learn +to be bored, and the sooner the better. I’ve +been bored for fifty years, but I’ve learned +how. I quite admit that your aunt’s a dowd +and your cousins three young and very undistinguished +frumps, but that’s precisely why +they’re so valuable. If you have one good +frump at your side, you have a margin; with +three or four, any future is virtually open to +you.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You know all the men you need to know +now, and none of the women you’ve met with +me can be of the slightest use to you. It’s +high time you should square a few frumps. +Otherwise the men’ll do you harm. You’ll be +considered fast.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But aren’t I fast?” Kitty inquired. “I +thought knowing a lot of men was always fast.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“So it is,” said her father, with a chuckle, +“damned fast and damned convenient, but +you’ll have to slow up over it. Sprinkle a +few of these Mallard women across your track, +and then you can do what you like. See?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty didn’t see, but she did what she liked.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was, after all, quite an amusing time. +Many of the men she knew turned up, and +invitations were showered upon her, backed by +flowers and chocolates. Her cousins didn’t +like her even though she religiously shared all +the chocolates and flowers with them, and her +aunt stared rather hard at some of Kitty’s +callers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s French clothes were a great success, +but her French manners had to be toned +down. Dick hated them, and the other men +were sometimes a little tiresome. Kitty had +long ago learned to deal with men who were +tiresome. She did it with laughter and good +humor and a little touch of decision, and she +very seldom needed any other weapon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A good many of the men she had met in +Monte Carlo and met again in London were +tiresome; and in the middle of the six weeks +Dick wanted to marry her. He said quite suddenly +he <span class='it'>must</span> marry her. The Mallards sent +Kitty back to her father with expedition and +without cordiality.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle shrugged his shoulders and +said it was a pity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve had a very short run for your +money,” he observed to Kitty, “but do as you +like. Dick’s a good fellow. I suppose you +can pig it on nine hundred a year, which, I +understand, you’ll scrape up between you, and +Dick’ll have money some day. I dare say +domesticity is best taken young. You can +make a fresh start later on if you want to, now +you’ve got the swing of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were to be married in a month, and +two weeks later Dick was crossing the channel +with the First Expeditionary Force.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He hadn’t expected to be called up so soon. +A telegram to Kitty miscarried, and in the +end they hadn’t time for marriage, only for a +strange half-hour, in which they said nothing at +all except queer, fragmentary things out of the +tops of their minds; but of course they expected +the war to be over in three months.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no time for anything but jokes, +little clumsy jokes about Berlin and the kaiser; +and then there seemed nothing left but interminable +terror.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A few weeks later the rector came to Alington +Farm to tell Kitty that Dick was missing. +Kitty was spraying the second crop of roses +against blight. They were Gloire de Dijon +roses, growing low over the porch, full of +heavy scent.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The rector said to her: “My dear, will you +come and see my wife? She’s almost your +mother now, you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He wished that Kitty had had a real mother. +She faced him for a moment speechlessly; her +eyes slipped past his words to his fears. He +answered them quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I do not know that he is dead,” he said, +showing her the telegram.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was afraid the rector was going to +say something about God, but he didn’t. He +looked all about him vaguely, down to the +garden’s edge, and across the rickety bridge.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We don’t know what it means,” he said +dully; he kept his eyes turned away from +Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She stood quite still, holding the telegram, as +if she could not make up her mind to give it +back to him. It did not seem to Kitty that +Dick belonged to either his father or his +mother. They were old; they had had him. +He had been their child. They were lucky +people whose relationship was complete; no +one could stop Dick having been their son. +They could afford to know that he was dead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she said at last, “I won’t go and see +his mother.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She turned and went into the house. The +rector did nothing to retain her, and he never +told any one what Kitty had said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty went to her room and locked the door. +She lay on the bed, face downward, till the +dark came.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her body felt dry and as if it were broken. +She shed no tears. Peckham came to her door +crying, but Kitty told her to go away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Please,” she said quietly, “go right away, +Peckham.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The next day her father came down from +London. Kitty unlocked the door for him. +She knew he wouldn’t say anything to bother +her. He brought her a cup of tea, and when +she had drunk it, he said to her:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ’Member my telling you life was chancy? +Well! it is, you see, damned chancy. If I were +you, I should just sit tight and make the best +of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“So I would if I were sure he was dead,” +explained Kitty. “You see, if he’s there,—anywhere +at all, I mean,—I want to be what +he wants—that kind of woman; and if he isn’t, +well, then, I don’t care what I am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, give the thing time,” urged her +father. “Wait a bit; you’re very young. +You can only be innocent once, you know; +you can always be the other thing.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m not thinking of all that,” said +Kitty, impatiently. “Men don’t matter. +I’m wondering what to be—myself, you see, +if things don’t come right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, of course you’re not now,” agreed her +father. “But you will, you know, my dear. +Dreams are what we all start out with, and +it’s pretty tough when they get broken. But +it’s facts we end up on, and when we want +the facts, we want them worse than we wanted +the dreams.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You talk as if Dick hadn’t been a fact,” +said Kitty, bitterly; and then she began to +cry, because she herself had spoken as if Dick +were no longer a fact.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle helped her to go to France. +He couldn’t go himself because three relentless +doctors refused to pass him for active +service.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I were you,” he said to Kitty as he saw +her off, “I should wait two years. The war +won’t end any sooner. People say it will, but +it won’t. You’ll have a hell of a time, but +you can afford it at eighteen. So shall I, of +course, and at my age it’s more serious. I +shall simply be bored stiff with people all +around me doing things for their country, the +kind of people, I mean, who will take this +war as if it were a new sort of lap-dog.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I sha’n’t turn a hair myself. If my country +doesn’t want me to fight, it can leave me +alone. I’m not going to turn myself into a +Red Cross pin-cushion to please anybody.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When you want to come back, you’ll find +me just as you left me—except for what they +get out of me in the way of taxes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wonder what you’ll find me,” said Kitty.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham had none of the rights of love; +she had only its services and its long suspenses. +It was very gratifying, in the face +of the entire dissolving household, to be put +in charge of Alington Farm, to have an assured +income, a kitchen maid, and a silk umbrella +with her initials on the handle, presented +to her by Miss Kitty as a parting present. +But Peckham saw through these gratifications +to the fact of her lamb’s unprotected disappearance. +No umbrella could soften the fact +of Miss Kitty’s going into the country in Europe +of which Peckham least approved.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham disliked all countries that were not +her own, but she had a special horror of France. +She thought it an indecent place, abandoned +to a parcel of fly-by-nights and the sinister ministrations +of the Roman Catholic Church. +Peckham did not know which she disapproved +of most thoroughly, the grands boulevards or +the pope. Now there were the Germans, and +by what she read in the newspapers, they were +as bad or worse.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The French couldn’t get them out of the +country, and we had to help them, that is to +say, Miss Kitty had to help them. The European +War became for Peckham an act of +reckless charity on the part of Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And after two years the war stopped. It +went on in the newspapers and as far as the +soldiers were concerned, and strange things +took place or ceased to take place in the larder; +but Miss Kitty returned.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Alington Hall had been sold. There was +only Alington Farm left. It was the last +piece of the old Alington estate. Mr. Costrelle +had settled it upon Kitty as a twenty-first +birthday present. It was older than the +hall itself, and stood in an overgrown garden, +with an ancient four-square tower rising out +of it, flanked by an old stone chapel that had +for years been the undisputed abode of a family +of Berkshire pigs. Mr. Costrelle hardly +ever came near it. He stayed in London, and +sometimes in the summer he came down for a +night or two, looked moodily over the little +place, tipped Peckham, and told her that Miss +Kitty was well, there was no occasion for her +to starve herself, and the war would probably +go on forever.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Should you say Miss Kitty was really better, +sir—happier, as you might say?” Peckham +would venture as the last moments of Mr. Costrelle’s +occasional visit drew to a close, and Mr. +Costrelle always shook hands with her at the +gate, most handsomely (the postman had remarked +upon it with awe; for Mr. Costrelle +was not one to demean himself with inferiors), +and replied in the same words:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There isn’t any news of Master Dick, you +know, nurse. I should say Miss Kitty was +about the same.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And at the end of the two years Miss Kitty +came back, but she wasn’t at all the same.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was taller and thinner and a very great +deal older. But her age was not a visible portent. +She looked as pretty as a peach and as +young as a June day. It was in her mind and +in the presentment of her personality that +Kitty had grown old. She had been like a +flower in her youth, and now she was like a +piece of very bright, well-polished enamel.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was very kind to Peckham, but there +was something as hard as steel under her kindness. +She was very gay, but there was something +unapproachably bitter under her gaiety. +She was a woman of the world, and she very +soon became the talk of Rochett.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>England was denuded of men, but Alington +Farm was never long without one. Generals, +colonels, lieutenants, engineers, commanders +of men-of-war, each appeared and reappeared +on leave, or stationed within motoring distance, +and Kitty entertained them all. There +were only a French cook, Peckham, and the +kitchen maid, but there always seemed money +enough for what Kitty wanted. Her room +was always full of new French clothes and +of strange French perfumes. There was a litter +of men’s photographs in presentation silver +frames that Kitty rarely looked at, and of +endless letters that she barely read, and there +was a good deal of valuable jewelry that she +frequently wore. It was perhaps not surprising +that Rochett should talk and that Peckham +should suffer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham knew that Kitty had three hundred +a year; so did Rochett. Rochett drew +its own conclusions, and Peckham refused to +draw hers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle came down a good deal oftener. +He got on remarkably well with whichever +of Kitty’s friends happened to be there—they +stayed at the inn and spent their +entire days at Alington—and Mr. Costrelle +seemed not in the least concerned by the regularity +of their appearances or the lateness of +their departures.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’ve got Miss Kitty back,” he +said on the first of these occasions to Peckham.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham met his eyes in a way that was +unusual with her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, in a sense I have, sir,” she assented.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Just the same as ever?” Mr. Costrelle remarked, +smiling a little at the fixity of Peckham’s +regard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t find Miss Kitty the same, sir,” +Peckham ventured breathlessly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, well,” Mr. Costrelle said, turning away +to end the conversation, “you must put up with +what you have, Peckham. It’s a changing +universe, and wise people change with it. I +don’t say they improve—that’s a matter of +opinion—but they change.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham did not expostulate directly with +Kitty. She did not dare. The vicar’s wife +expostulated, and she left the drawing-room +with flaming cheeks and an air of having got +the worst of it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t let that woman in again if she calls,” +Kitty remarked afterward to Peckham. +“She’s been impertinent. I don’t like impertinent +women.” But the vicar’s wife +didn’t call again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Gradually every one in the neighborhood—the +women, that is to say—ceased to call, every +one except Daphne Wynne. Daphne came +often, and Peckham learned to love the sound +of laughter which ensued—the old easy laughter +that reminded her of the times before Miss +Kitty went away and when she did not have +that little cold ring in her voice, which made +her laughter now have a formidable and dangerous +sound.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty never laughed like that with Daphne +Wynne; and now even Daphne Wynne had +stopped coming.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham went slowly up-stairs to brush +Miss Kitty’s hair. She was a splendid +brusher, and it was the hour of the day she +liked most. When Miss Kitty sat still in front +of her long Italian mirror, with her thick, black +hair sweeping to her knees, she looked like a +little child again, and sometimes, when she was +in the mood for it, she talked like a little child +to Peckham. But this afternoon Peckham +was afraid. She knew she must say something +at last, she must risk the rebuff which +would cost her more than it cost the vicar’s +wife. She could not go on any longer saying +nothing to Miss Kitty, when all the rest of +the world had turned against her and was saying +everything it could.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>While Mrs. Wynne continued to call, Peckham +had said to herself that Rochett was old-fashioned +and stupid and didn’t know what +went on in good society among young people +without any harm in it. But Mrs. Wynne +knew. Mrs. Wynne, with her kind, laughing +eyes, would never stop seeing her friends for +any but reasons which Peckham would have +to consider grave.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Captain Arden was a grave reason. Miss +Kitty wasn’t being fair with Captain Arden. +If she liked him, why didn’t she marry him? +And if she didn’t marry him, why didn’t she +let him alone?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is that you, Peckham?” Kitty called out +a little impatiently. “I’m going out this +afternoon, so you must be quick. I sha’n’t +be in till late.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham. She +took out the large ivory brush and began with +her steady hand a rhythmic movement of the +brush over Kitty’s thick, glossy hair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s hair shone as a well-bred horse’s coat +shines under the hand of the most careful of +grooms; she smiled at Peckham in the glass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re grave to-day, Peckham,” she said. +“You look rather like Lot’s wife going to seed +when she looked back on Sodom. I suppose +I’m Sodom, aren’t I? What have I been +doing now? Anything worth your turning +into salt for? Do you think I’m a very wicked +woman, Nannie?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, Miss, I’m sure I never think of you +as a woman at all,” said Peckham, evasively, +“having brought you up, as it were, from a +baby. Nor would any one, the length you +wear your skirts, and all that stocking showing! +I do wish you’d let me let down a tuck +or two. The way people can’t take their eyes +off your legs is more than I can bear, Miss +Kitty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But I like to have everybody’s eyes on my +legs,” said Kitty, calmly. “If you had as +pretty ones as I have, Nannie, you’d wear your +skirts up to your knees, and thank God for +them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You let your tongue run away with you, +Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, severely. “Respectable +people in my class of life don’t think +anything about their legs, and if I’d been given +pink silk stockings by a young man when I +was a girl, and he not even a blood relation, I +should have died of shame.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I made Captain Arden buy me those silk +stockings, Nannie,” she explained. “He’s +very like you. He wanted to die of shame, +but people don’t die of shame as easily as you +think. Papa says shame was invented to keep +modest people from boring amusing ones; only +it hasn’t succeeded.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you go quoting your papa to me, +Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, stiffly. “You +know I never could bear to hear the things he +said, before an innocent child, too. I wonder +Captain Arden’s sister don’t come in with him +sometimes like she used to. There isn’t a +nicer lady anywhere than Mrs. Wynne. Have +you done anything to vex her, Miss?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The small, white face between its two dark +showers of falling hair winced suddenly; a +sullen expression came into Kitty’s eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I shall do as I like,” she said shortly, “and +behave as I please. It’s nothing to you, Nannie, +if I choose to quarrel with Mrs. Wynne.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham went on brushing just as smoothly, +just as steadily, but her heart was out of it; +it was everything in the world to her what +Kitty did, and Kitty knew it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty blinked her eyelids rapidly together +and repented.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sorry, Nannie,” she said. “It was horrid +of me to say that. Of course you care, and +I do, too, really. I am very fond of Daphne +Wynne. I expect she thinks I’m not playing +the game with Captain Arden, you know, and +that’s put her back up.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you was to marry Captain Arden, now,” +said Peckham, persuasively, “she wouldn’t go +for to object to that, would she, Miss Kitty?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed again, with that note of bitterness +in it, as hard as a stone under clear +water.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’d have every right to, Nannie,” she +said; “but I’m not, as a matter of fact, thinking +of marrying Captain Arden. I don’t happen +to be a marrying woman. I prefer a—single +life.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you’ll excuse my saying so, Miss Kitty,” +said Peckham, severely, “that’s a mistake on +your part. A man behind you is a man behind +you, as it were. Ladies can be a great +deal freer, with a gentleman to look after them, +than they can living alone; and Captain Arden’s +such a nice gentleman, too.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to be looked after,” said Kitty, +impatiently, “and why should I marry Captain +Arden any more than any of my other +friends? I’ve far grander matches under my +hand if I wanted them, Nannie.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I know, my dear,” said Peckham, +gently; “but you don’t treat them as you treat +Captain Arden. You have a way with him +that seems more comfortable like, more as if +you were at home with him; and that’s what +I like to see in any one coming to the house so +often.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have I?” said Kitty, consideringly. +“Have I a different way with him? I must +stop it if I have, you know, Nannie. That’s +what I should call being unfair. I suppose +it’s because he’s had such a bad time; still, +that’s hardly a reason for giving him a worse.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you feel like that about him Miss Kitty,” +Peckham urged, “why not do a little more for +him? He’s longing for a home and to settle +down with you and all. I can see it in his eyes. +Couldn’t you look at it like something you +could do for him, and he having had such a bad +time, as you say?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You don’t know what you’re talking +about,” said Kitty, coldly. “Besides, he’s +come out of his bad time. It’s over for him; +he’s come out all right. I’m not terribly +sorry for him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She closed her eyes for a moment on the +vision of those who had not come out all right. +Peckham went on brushing her hair quietly and +holding her breath for fear of checking what +Miss Kitty might say next, but all Kitty said, +after a minute’s pause, was:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Where’s my scarlet tam-o’-shanter? I +think it’s going to rain. And my Burberry. +I’ll put on my chiffon dress to-night; the one +you say heathen savages wouldn’t be seen in. +As a matter of fact, Peckham, heathen savages +wouldn’t dream of wearing anything like +so much. A feather behind one ear and a +necklace is quite sufficient for a heathen savage, +and if you go on looking as solemn as the last +trump at a race meeting, that’s the way I’ll +come down to dinner to-night.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham whitened visibly under this dire +threat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Some day, Miss Kitty,” she observed, +“there’ll be a judgment upon you, there will +surely.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I don’t mind if there is,” said Kitty, +defiantly, snatching up the scarlet cap and +cramming it low over her eyes. “I’ve got a +grievance against the judge, if it comes to that, +worth any two of his against me. But don’t +you worry, Nannie! It’s Captain Arden I’m +going out with this afternoon; that ought to +please you. He’s as quiet as a suet pudding, +and as safe as a cathedral.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It don’t matter how particular gentlemen +are if you aren’t, Miss Kitty,” said Peckham, +quietly. “What they begin as has nothing to +do with it. A hair turns them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m just going to try,” said Kitty, +with a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she left +the room, “if a hair <span class='it'>will</span> turn Captain Arden.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had no inner egoism; he did +not make pictures in his mind of himself, +nor did he try to make them to his advantage +in the minds of other people. He was without +that key to character that the desire to +please others involves. Nobody had ever +called him sympathetic or confided to him picturesque +and inaccurate accounts of their lives. +His desire to serve was evident; but it was +roused only by those who were courageous sufferers, +at the mercy of a stronger force. He +took no interest in the aggrieved, and he always +asked why a dog was lame before attempting +to help it over a stile.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But he had made no such researches into the +causes of Kitty’s ostracism. He swept into +the back of his mind all adverse facts against +her. Kitty was not to blame; everybody else +was to blame: her father, for her upbringing, +which was admittedly careless; the neighborhood, +for its blind-eyed strictness; and, above +all, other women. The women of Rochett +became Anthony’s inveterate enemies. They +were unappeasably at war with Kitty; but it +was difficult for Anthony to fight them, because +they did things which Anthony could not fight.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they passed Mrs. Bucket, the clergyman’s +wife, in the car, she deliberately turned +her back and gazed through the hedge.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>One cannot get out of a motor-car and fight +with a lady for looking at a hedge; and yet +Mrs. Bucket’s action was obviously hostile. +There was nothing in the hedge, or through it, +to look at except the silhouette of a preoccupied +pig, and there was no dust in the road; +there was only Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“A woman of that type,” Anthony exclaimed +angrily, “disgusts me. Their religion +is supposed to be love, and their practice is +hate. They wouldn’t have been seen in the +New Testament except behind the portliest of +the Pharisees. None of them envisages a generous +action, and they haven’t enough courage +to face one of their own ugly thoughts. If +she has anything against you, why doesn’t she +stand up and say so? She belongs to a race +of jackals that eat other people’s kill.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Rubbish!” said Kitty, lightly. “Poor old +thing, she isn’t a bit like a jackal. She +doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her; why +should she bow to me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>You</span> wouldn’t have cut her,” said Anthony, +a little crestfallen at this reception of his championship. +“I saw you meant to bow to her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s not in my interest to cut respectable +women,” replied Kitty, coolly. “I don’t often +get the chance; they turn their backs before I +have time to do more than cock my tam-o’-shanter +at them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Even Daphne’s unfair to you,” went on +Anthony, bitterly. “At least, I suppose she +is. If she wasn’t unfair, you’d surely come +to Merry Gardens.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have you asked her why I don’t come?” +replied Kitty, evasively, putting on speed with +a jerk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, she only says, ‘She can come if she +likes, Tony; I sha’n’t stop her.’ But if she +asked you, you’d come, wouldn’t you, Kitty? +Not asking you is stopping you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She won’t ask me,” said Kitty, dryly. “I +should leave it alone if I were you, Anthony. +I don’t believe Ishmael was a man. I believe +he was a lady of certain attractions, living +in a suspicious country neighborhood where +nobody knew how to put on their clothes. But +Daphne’s all right. I told you why she’s +down on me before, but I didn’t tell you what +she’d tried to do for me first.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She came here to an awfully stiff and old-fashioned +neighborhood, where the people were +all friends of Jim’s, and had wanted him to +marry one of their daughters, with her own +way to make, and she tried to make mine instead. +She saw me left out at a silly, frumpish, +old school treat where they’d had to ask +me to get a subscription; and from that moment +she fought my battles in season and out +of season, and it was mostly out of season with +my battles. And what have I ever done for +her? Nothing except try to turn her husband’s +head.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kitty!” exclaimed Anthony, aghast. +“Old Jim?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well,” said Kitty, indifferently, “I did; +and no thanks to <span class='it'>his</span> superior morals that I +didn’t succeed. I got fed up with his explaining +potato crops to me, so I dropped him. +Jim’s a nice fellow and he hates me like poison +now. He thinks it’s virtue, but it isn’t: it’s +pure funk. But Daphne was never afraid of +me. She was nice to me, not pitying or superior +or ‘you-poor-thing-ish,’ just nice. She +thought I’d had no luck.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps she didn’t know about Jim,” suggested +Anthony, who refused to see his favorite +sister justified at Kitty’s expense.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, she knew,” said Kitty, calmly, “as +quickly as she would have known if her first +baby had cut a new tooth. Daphne’s no fool +about men. She knew she could really hold +Jim, and she wasn’t afraid of me; but she +wasn’t going to be nasty either. She isn’t +really nasty now; she’s merely holding off because +I’m not playing the game. She’d be +nice again to-morrow if I’d behave properly +to you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you call behaving properly to +me?” asked Anthony, with amusement. “I’ve +not complained so far.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Never seeing you again would be behaving +properly to you,” said Kitty, with a curious +gravity. “I see that now, but it’s too +late.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You couldn’t, I fancy, even the two of you, +dispose of me quite so easily,” observed Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty made no answer to this statement. +She said after a pause:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Women are all right. Look at Peckham. +Peckham would be cut into little bits to prevent +my having a chilblain. I don’t quite +know a man who would be, not even you, Tony. +Oh, actual bits, perhaps. But you wouldn’t +always want to take a back seat so as to give +me a front one, would you? That’s what old +Peckham wants: she’d be willing to be jolted +off on to the road to see me safe and sound on +the front seat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony said something about the maternal +instinct.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You can call it what you like,” said Kitty, +indifferently. “All I’m saying is, women do +more for you than men sometimes, and don’t +get anything out of it. There was a woman +once who did a thing for me—an angel from +heaven would have turned its nose up at—and +she made no more fuss about it than if she +had lent me a pocket-handkerchief. I appreciate +that you’re paying me a left-handed compliment +by having a shy at women; but you +can take my word for it, there’s nothing in it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You dislike them yourself,” urged Anthony, +hotly; “you told me so.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I do,” said Kitty. “Why not? +I dislike them because they’re not anxious for +me to amuse myself at their expense, and +that’s the only form of amusement that happens +to appeal to me. I dare say you like +burglars—I don’t blame you for it—but it’s +a peculiar taste that the police don’t share. +As far as other women are concerned, I’m a +burglar and, they’re the police. It’s not +much use your trying to reconcile us, is it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony ignored this metaphor. He did +not believe that Kitty broke laws. She merely +ignored conventionalities.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What happened to the woman you say +helped you?” he asked, instead, a little resentfully. +“If she was really a good sort, why +didn’t you keep hold of her and have a friend +to fall back on?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We couldn’t meet again,” said Kitty, +briefly. “That’s the hill over there beyond +the windmill, with the row of beeches on the +top. We get out there.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony frowned at the windmill. He +hated mysteries, and above all he hated coming +on a mystery in Kitty’s life. He suspected +that there were things he would dislike to know +in Kitty’s career, but he disliked even more +not knowing them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t the right to ask you any questions, +of course,” he said stiffly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” agreed Kitty, “you haven’t; but don’t +let that worry you. I wouldn’t answer you +even if you had. I don’t believe in rights +about questions. Live and let live, that’s my +motto. We dump the car here and climb up. +Rather a nice hill, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stood looking up at the soft, green +incline above them. There were thickets of +young hazel-bushes on the slopes, hollows full +of may-blossom, and the sharpened green of +very young leaves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The new-born leaves,’ ” Kitty quoted +softly, touching them with her bared fingers. +“That’s Dante, isn’t it? The woman I told +you about said that to me once. Of course I +never read myself except when it’s wet, and +I shouldn’t read Dante in a blizzard. I prefer +D’Annunzio.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe you’ve read a word of +D’Annunzio in your life,” said Anthony, +crossly. “You just say that to tease me, because +you know I hate decadent stuff, full +of moonshine and mud. Why do you always +try to make yourself out what you know I +don’t like, Kitty?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, it does tease you, doesn’t it?” +laughed Kitty. “Poor old Tony! You’re +awfully easily teased. Never mind; that’s +because you like me. I like you to like me, +you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wish you did,” said Anthony under his +breath. He held a bramble back to let her +pass. Kitty saw his arm tremble as she +touched it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, not like that,” she said lightly; “that’s +a stupid, solemn way. Like me as if liking +were a joke, not as if it were a state funeral +and I were the corpse.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stopped suddenly. He felt as if +something had literally moved in his heart.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“For God’s sake! don’t talk like that!” he +exclaimed harshly. “You’re not ill, are you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty turned her head and opened wide eyes +at him in which astonishment mixed with a +curious look of resentment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ill?” she said. “Why should I be ill? +How just like a doctor! Of all the nonsense, +Anthony!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It wasn’t in the least like a doctor; it was +the kind of statement that any doctor would +have laughed at, and of course it was nonsense, +only some stubborn instinct in Anthony remained +unrelieved. He had felt one of those +moments of panic that the heart never forgets.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s lithe young figure stepped steadily +on in front of him. She was beyond the copse +of young trees and out on the open hillside. +Anthony called to her to stop and watch the +beauty of the expanding world at their feet, +the line of may-blossoms like the crest of a +breaking wave, beyond it the orchards, and a +common covered with a burnished shield of +gorse, flame upon golden flame.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Kitty refused to do more than glance +at it over her shoulder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s the same old view I’ve seen for years,” +she said impatiently.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shut his lips. The view meant +nothing to him if she would not share it. +Kitty’s impatience stripped the woods of bloom +and disallowed the beauty of the day. He +wondered if he had been stupid to talk against +women; perhaps Kitty had not realized that +it was because she was different from all other +women that all the other women must be in +the wrong. Anthony couldn’t explain this +to Kitty; he couldn’t really explain anything. +For moment by moment he felt more aware +of her and less aware of everything else.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He did not dream that Kitty was intentionally +blinding him to everything but herself. +She did not speak again until she had reached +the group of beeches at the top of the hill. +They stood silent and massive above her, as if +their big brown trunks were the columns of a +cathedral aisle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There’ll be thunder soon,” said Kitty under +her breath. “I love storms.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stood beside her as motionless as +one of the tree trunks. He thought she did +not realize what he was feeling. Perhaps she +was thinking of the coming rain, while he stood +tense with his struggle not to take her in his +arms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She turned and looked at him with eyes in +which laughter brimmed over, seized him by the +shoulders, and swiftly drawing his head down +to hers, kissed him full on the lips.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her action took Anthony completely by +surprise. He caught her so close to him that +she could not speak, and covered her face and +eyes and hair with kisses. It was as if they +ceased to be human beings, and became two +wild creatures in the woods, full of magic and +madness. Anthony slipped beyond her control +and beyond his own.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All the years of his intense restraint fell +from him; his whole being seemed to alter in +her arms. He did not know what was left of +him or what was Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty said his name at last, over and over, +very softly and steadily.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Anthony! Anthony!” It seemed to him +as if he were being called back out of another +world. He let her go at last, forcing his will +to answer hers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She leaned, with her back against a tree, +breathless and white, but laughing a little.</p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'> +<img src='images/ill003.jpg' alt='Man and woman kiss' id='img03' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/> +<p class='caption'><span class='it'>He did not know what was left of him or what was Kitty.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>“I won’t scold you, Tony,” she said. “It +was all my fault. I took you by surprise, and +that was a little the way you took me. I +didn’t know, you see, you would be that kind +of lover.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t frighten you, did I?” he asked +anxiously. “I’ll take the greatest care of you +always, Kitty; I’ll never let anything hurt or +frighten you again. I never dreamed you +could, I never thought I might—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t put too much weight on anything I +do,” Kitty interrupted him quickly. “The +woods are full of mischief. Poor old Anthony! +You do look done. That’s because +you think I am, isn’t it? Well, I’ll race you +to the bottom of the hill to show you I’m not.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was off like a flash between the trunks +of the trees, and Anthony after her. It was +a breathless, absurd, confusing race.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt as if he had got into a nightmare. +He did not know the path, and Kitty +was mercilessly aware of it. She took short +cuts and avoided rough places, leaving him to +stumble into pitfalls and be caught by unexpected +brambles. He broke free at last, and +before they reached the car he had caught her +and seized her by the shoulders.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kitty, you’re a little devil,” he said breathlessly. +“Are you all right?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty ignored his question.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s better,” she said, with approving +eyes. “I’m a little devil, and you’re no better +than you should be—now. You can come +home and dine with me—no, I won’t be kissed +on the roadside; but just bear those two facts +in mind, won’t you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She sprang away from him into the car. +Anthony swung himself up beside her, taking +the steering-wheel out of her hands.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, you don’t,” he said fiercely. “I’ve +had enough of your initiative for one afternoon. +I’m going to do the driving from now +on.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty yielded lightly, with smiling eyes. +She watched Anthony’s face as he steered the +car out of the narrow lane and road by the +windmill. His eyes had a queer, odd light in +them—a light of intense, controlled excitement, +and his rather heavy jaws were set +firmly. She would not be able to take him by +surprise so easily again. The clouds had +darkened rapidly, and just as they turned +into the open road the rain began. Thunder +rolled down on them from the low hills, and all +the may-trees and the golden gorse were +blotted out in storm.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty leaned back in the car and shut her +eyes; a little smile still lingered round her lips. +Anthony glanced at her from time to time to +see that she was properly wrapped up and did +not look as if she was too exhausted by her +race.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He swore to himself that he would never +again leave her to her own discretion or let +her do things for which she had to pay.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He would pay for whatever she did himself, +and guide those small, wilful hands of +hers, and put his heart under her feet. He +could not tell if he was happy or sad, but he +was settled; he knew what he had to do.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was his life now; there was no other +uncertainty. Nothing that people said of her +could alter his judgment. Daphne and Jim, +his people at Pannell, must accept her or be +blotted out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was nothing left but Kitty. Kitty, +too, was silent. She sat muffled up in her +Burberry, with the rain lashing against her +face. She was quite comfortable and content, +but she made no resolutions. Only, as they +flashed past the wet fields and round the familiar +corners, she remembered Peckham’s +phrase, “A hair will turn him.” A hair had +turned Anthony. That was why Kitty was +smiling.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>The tower room was unlike anything else +in the shabby old farm-house. It was +hundreds of years old, but Kitty had overrun +it with modernity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A staircase separated it from the rest of the +house, the four narrow, deep-set windows +looked out over the unkempt garden. Twilight +was falling, and the scent of brier-roses +invaded the still air, and filled the room with +fragrance. It was the first time Anthony had +been in the tower. Kitty took him to the foot +of the little staircase and told him to go up and +wait there while she dressed for dinner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It may amuse you,” she said, “poking about +among my things.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The rain had stopped falling. A gray mist +surrounded the tower, out of which the dark +shapes of the trees leaned like thick shadows. +Roses climbed up above the window-sills, and +swallows darted to and fro beneath them. +Their nests were all about the tower.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony leaned out of the window and +heard the stirring of wings and the subdued +movement of the leaves that parted to receive +them. He thought that Kitty was like a swallow, +swift and fugitive, a restless, reckless +daughter of the air; and his heart moved in +him with delight to think that he might make +a nest to hold her, a place of security and +peace for her to rest in between her circling +flights.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The inside of the tower room was curiously +unlike its setting; it was full of odd colors and +extravagant luxury.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It contained beautiful things, but it did not +express beauty; it expressed excitement and +love of physical comfort. There was a long, +very soft divan covered with cushions; the +colors of the cushions clashed against one another, +orange and green and gold, with here +and there a bizarre note of black.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Between two of the windows hung a vivid +piece of Sicilian embroidery with a design of +grapes and pomegranates. By the door there +was a Chinese screen of very dim gold, on +which a flight of storks crossed a scarlet sunset, +fading into gray.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room was too small for the treasures it +held; old French porcelain, lacquer boxes, and +Italian bronzes jostled one another. Nothing +seemed to connect with anything else or with +any idea behind itself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A low book-case ran along the wall beneath +the Sicilian altar-cloth. Anthony read the +titles of the books carefully in the fading light. +They were chiefly French novels of an unmistakable +type. Kitty had been a great deal in +France with her father; perhaps the books belonged +to him. They were more like the books +a man would have chosen, a man who had no +moral sense, and particularly liked to have the +lack of it stimulated.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not know much about French +novels, but a glance or two at them was enough +to show him that they belonged to that light, +evasive expression of evil that is hard to define, +very expensive, and extremely disintegrating.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony left the book-case and began to +walk up and down. He had a curious, restless +feeling, which he had not had for many weeks. +It was as if he could not get out when he knew +he could. It was a feeling that made him try +doors and get as near as he could to windows, +and it always ended in his walking to and fro +as if his life depended on performing a series +of vain movements.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It is a trick that prisoners learn in long confinements, +and perhaps of all their habits it is +the hardest to shake off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony walked up and down the little +crowded room till Kitty came. By the time +he heard her step he had almost forgotten +where he was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room was nearly dark, and as Kitty +opened the door she turned on the light and +stood under it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was dressed in yellow gauze. One of +the cleverest French dressmakers had designed +the costume for her. It did not look as if it +were a dress, but as if Kitty were a flower, an +extraordinary, graceful, human flower from +which the foliage had receded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her neck and shoulders rose bare out of the +golden chiffon; the folds of it were fastened together +with an amber ornament at her waist; +the clinging, narrow skirt was slit up at the +sides to show her slender feet and ankles; a +green scarf escaped and hung behind her. +A long chain of amber and green jade hung +round her neck, catching and holding all the +light in the room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty paused for a moment, and then moved +quickly, like the passage of a sunbeam, into +Anthony’s arms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony no longer felt imprisoned. It +seemed to him as if he had conquered space, +and held all that he wanted of it forever.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But as quickly as he embraced her, Kitty +gently released herself. Her eyes ran swiftly +over him, alive with laughter.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We must have dinner first,” she said. +“How do you like my room and my dress and +me? You’ll have to tell me after dinner. +Poor old Anthony!” Her voice had a curious +quality of control in it, as if Anthony had +ceased to be himself and had become merely +an instrument of her will. He was dimly +aware of the fact, but he did not resent it. He +only wanted to express Kitty’s will.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony could not talk much at dinner. +He ate and drank without seeing or tasting +what was set before him. He was only aware +of Kitty opposite him, Kitty laughing, Kitty +recounting little tales of her life abroad, incidents +in hotels, on railway stations. Wherever +Kitty had been, incidents had followed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty always talked easily without the consciousness +of any effect but her own amusement. +She had little vivid turns of speech that +stuck in Anthony’s mind, but her talking went +by favor. At times she was stonily silent, and +withdrew herself from any approach to expression.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>To-night Anthony could not respond to her; +he could not take his eyes away from her face +or follow a word of what she said.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He knew her voice was music, and by the +sound of it he knew that she was pleased. He +was shut off from any other form of consciousness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham waited upon them silently, but her +every gesture was a reproach. She put the +plates down with severity, she poured out their +wine as if she wished to mingle it with gall, +she carried things in and out of the room with +unveiled hostility; every movement of her +starched apron was a remonstrance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She wept in the pantry and she prayed in the +hall; she even glanced imploringly straight at +the impassive loveliness of Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Peckham’s efforts and her pains counted +for nothing. Anthony did not know that she +was there, and Kitty, perceiving all she felt, +took her own way.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After dinner they went back to the tower +room. Anthony drew Kitty to him with a +long sigh of relief.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought you were never coming,” he said; +“I thought I should never see you really like +this again.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Poor old Tony!” Kitty murmured softly. +“You do care for me awfully, don’t you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hopelessly,” said Anthony, smiling at her, +“hopelessly. I can never show you. Kitty, +you won’t keep me waiting, will you? I’ve +waited all my life for you, and I don’t feel as +if I could stand much more of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s eyes opened to receive him without +barriers. She gave him a long, full look.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, of course not,” she said gently. “I +shouldn’t be such a beast. You’ve had a terrible +time; I’d like to make you awfully happy, +Tony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When?” he whispered. “Kitty darling, +when will you marry me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty jerked herself suddenly out of his +arms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Marry you?” she said angrily. “I’m +never going to marry you. What are you +talking about, Tony?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He stared at her in blank surprise.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You silly old boy!” she said more gently, +“you don’t seem to be very clever at taking +things in. Sit down and be sensible; don’t +stand looking at me like that. I haven’t done +you any harm.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony sat down obediently. His eyes +were still perplexed, but he put his mind on +all that he remembered Kitty had told him +about Dick. That was presumably the obstacle. +Well, he would get over Dick. He +was not going to have Kitty held back from +life by a ghost.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty slipped on to a footstool in front of +the small wood fire. She looked thoughtfully +at the amber beads at the point of her small +satin slippers. They were where they should +be; at first Peckham had put them too far forward.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She hoped Anthony wasn’t going to be +foolish. He had a heavy line of jaw, and it +was set exactly as it had been in the motor +when he said he was going to drive; but Kitty +had had no objection to his driving, so that it +had not mattered. It was quite useless his +talking about marriage. She did object to +marriage.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kitty,” Anthony said slowly, “I think I +understand what you feel. It’s about Dick, +isn’t it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty looked startled, but in a moment she +had recovered herself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I told you,” she said a little uncertainly, +“that I was never going to marry any one else +but Dick.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know,” said Anthony; “but that was before +I cared for you. I think that must have +made a difference, Kitty, for, after all, you’ve +let me care.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty said nothing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You felt as if Dick were a part of your +actual life, didn’t you?” Anthony persisted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty answered without raising her eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not part of it,” she said; “all of it. And +not only my life: he was part of me; he is still. +That’s one reason why I can’t. But it isn’t +any use talking about it, Anthony. Why +don’t you stop talking?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We must talk about it first,” said Anthony. +“We’ve got to get the whole thing +straight. You are quite sure he is dead?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty flushed, but she answered without faltering.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes; I waited to be sure. John Adams, +from our old lodge, was his servant. They +were posted missing at the same time; so there +was always the chance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“One day John turned up. He’d been +maimed, so they sent him back. Dick died +in one of their hospitals with a wound through +his head. He kept calling my name till he +died. He never said anything else. When +John told me, I felt as if some one were laughing +at me. We’d never been married. We +might have been quite easily. That would +have been something to hold on to; but there +wasn’t anything.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Anthony; “sometimes there +doesn’t seem anything to hold on to.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty looked up at him. His eyes were +fixed on her with an intense watchful tenderness; +he did not look lost as he had looked at +dinner. All his faculties were alive for her; +and because he was using them for her, he was +in possession of himself. For a moment it +occurred to Kitty that she might not be able +to shake this possession.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It is no use your turning into a doctor or +anything,” she said shortly. “I can’t be doctored. +I’m what you call a hopeless case.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There isn’t, strictly speaking, any such +case,” said Anthony, smiling, “and you’ve got +to listen to me a few minutes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re twenty-three, you’re a woman, and +you’re not only Kitty. You’re not only +Dick’s; you belong to life. Dick didn’t only +belong to you. If he had, he wouldn’t have +gone straight out to die; he would have waited +till he had to go. But he didn’t; he went at +once; he belonged to the service of life. You +ought to give yourself honestly to the work of +the world. You ought to be a wife and you +ought to have a home and children. If you +were one of the women who didn’t take hold +of men, it would be different. You’d be a +worker then—some women are—or you’d be +a mother, perhaps, just a natural mother with +or without children, doing what she can for +helpless lives. But you’re not a mother +woman or a worker, and you must not go on +being nothing but a wasteful, mischievous +will-o’-the-wisp. If you are, you’ll be the +part of Dick that contradicted him and refuses +to serve life.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He got a good deal out of serving life, +didn’t he?” said Kitty, bitterly. “And you +think I’m going to be fooled, too? I’m just +what you call me—pure mischievous waste. +I won’t be a wife; I don’t want any poor, +beastly, miserable little children born to get +their hearts broken like the rest of us. I’ll +be what I am. You can’t say I didn’t warn +you. I may be a will-o’-the-wisp, but I play +fair, Anthony. That’s more than whoever +made me did with me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you—do you play quite fair, Kitty?” +Anthony asked gently. “Is it fair to make a +man feel for you as I do, so that he can’t see +or think or feel anything but a blind need of +you—the need of having you in his eyes, in +his home, so that he can serve and worship you +all the days of his life? Is it quite fair to turn +round and say, ‘Yes, I warned you’? I don’t +think you did warn me of that, Kitty. You +can play a light game with a light man; but +you didn’t think I was a light man, did +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was silent for a moment; she turned +her eyes away from him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she said at last; “I didn’t. I liked +you. I didn’t mean to like you. I didn’t +mean to care really at all; I never have before. +If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t perhaps. You’d +just have despised me and had a good time; +that was all I ought to have let you do. And +I did think you would—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Would what?” asked Anthony, perplexed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Would despise me,” said Kitty under her +breath.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, I don’t,” said Anthony. “I think +you’re reckless and haven’t been taken care +of properly; but I propose to change all that. +The only thing that matters is that you care. +If you care, that makes it all right. You +mightn’t care enough to marry me yet; then +I’ll have to be patient till you do. But I’ll +make you care for me, Kitty; you’ve only got +to trust me a little.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t, Tony! Don’t!” said Kitty, +shivering. “This is getting horrible. Why +won’t you understand? It isn’t only Dick; +I’m not <span class='it'>fit</span> to marry! I’m not fit to marry +any man!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She moved swiftly away from him to the +other side of the room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony sat perfectly still where she had +left him. He did not take in what she had +said. The words got into his mind, but they +refused to correspond with anything that was +there. They stood separately like blocks of +wood; there was no cohesion in them and no +form.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was not fit to marry any man. Kitty +had made this plain statement, but it did not +seem plain to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was Kitty, and he loved her, and she +loved him. This confused the other statement.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did what he had so often practised +when he felt his self-control leaving him in +prison: he retired into absolute silence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His mind moved against his will. He had +got to think of Kitty; that was why he kept +still. When his will was rested enough, it +would attack his mind; till then he saw only +pictures: pictures of Kitty in the red tam-o’-shanter +laughing at the rain which blew against +her face; Kitty in one of her moments of slow, +childlike gravity; Kitty standing without help +or guidance against an unjust, enigmatic +world.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a long time before the pictures +changed, and his mind struck upon the facility +of Kitty—the deadly facility with which she +handled men.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was not defenseless then; it was Anthony +who had been defenseless in her hands. +He had been so careful to protect her and +spare her even from his ardent thoughts, and +he had never had a base or cruel thought of +her. He had only wanted to wait till she was +sure of herself so that he should not startle her +by the strength of his love. Well, she was sure +of herself and she was sure of him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But was this Kitty, the Kitty he had meant +to win? What had she to do with this facile, +scheming, easily triumphant Kitty? This +Kitty was not helpless; there was no need to +shield her from anything. She had not tried +to save herself. She had gone not blindly or +weakly or from the sharp constraint of passion, +but with deliberate steps, with perfect +mastery, into the world of women who are not +fit to marry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had no longings for any such +world. He had accepted long ago an ordered +universe. He hated concealments and he despised +light loves. He was not prepared to +readjust his relationship with Kitty. His +mind pointed out to him relentlessly what +Kitty had always meant.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He understood the tower room, with its expensive +luxuries, the violent colors; the enervating +comfort. They troubled the senses; +everything Kitty did troubled the senses. She +had not wanted to go deeper than this. She +would not have gone deeper if the senses were +the measure of the soul; but something larger +had broken through and shaken them both.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony put the thought of this larger +thing aside. It concerned him, perhaps; but +he could not see that it concerned Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was not going to stand any more from +Kitty; he was going to get out.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He became suddenly pitiless with pain. +The door of the round tower was in front of +him. He need not look back. He could escape +and get clean away. He could leave +without compunction this creature who had set +a snare for him, to trip him up out of the freedom +of his new life, this creature, Kitty!</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All this while she had not made a sound. +He did not know how long he had been silent. +Perhaps she had slipped out of the room without +his noticing, but he did not think so; he +felt she was in the room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Perhaps she sat in some beautiful, seductive +attitude, waiting to catch and hold his unwary +eyes; but his eyes were not unwary now.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He turned his head and looked at Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was crouched up in a small chair by her +desk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She had not even moved her dress to sit +down. She looked like a school-boy who has +told a lie and does not know how to confess it. +She did not look at all seductive.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Anthony turned to her she met his +eyes with her miserable eyes without flinching; +but her misery was not for herself. She spoke +quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Poor old Tony! Hadn’t you better go? +I’m frightfully sorry to have let you down +like this. I didn’t dream you thought—such +an impossible thing of me. You see, every +one knows. I haven’t hidden anything; even +Peckham, I think, knows. But I did hide a +little from Peckham; it would have made her +feel so—so awfully upset. So I just hoped +she wouldn’t guess. I really didn’t think I +need tell Peckham. D’you know, Tony, if I +were you, I’d go? I would honestly. And +don’t bother to think about me, because, you +see, what you thought me—wasn’t there at all; +it was just a girl who didn’t exist. But lots +of frightfully nice girls do. I wish it hadn’t +happened.” She paused and drew a long, difficult +breath. “I wish it hadn’t happened,” +she repeated dully.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stirred uneasily in his chair. She +looked so different from the brilliant Kitty +who had turned on the light and stood before +him like a golden flame. She looked tired +and without any charm. She did not even +hold up her head. She was perfectly right, of +course; he had loved some one who didn’t +exist, a reckless, but innocent, girl whom he +could have made a home for and protected +from all the evil of the world.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He could get over a woman who didn’t exist. +He could not protect this Kitty; she was herself +part of the world’s evil. Still, this Kitty +had said she cared for him and she looked upset. +He told himself sharply that it served her +right to care; and of course she was upset, because +he had escaped her; he wasn’t one of +her many captives.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony took human justice into his heart +and felt it very cold.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had known what pain was, and the complete +knowledge of pain unfits the heart for +executing justice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He got up and went over to where Kitty sat +hunched up on the Sheraton chair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t be such a beast as to leave you,” +he said, kneeling down beside her. “I’m sorry +I made that mistake. Let me stay on somehow, +Kitty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty began to speak; then she moved nervously +away from him to the window.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’d much better go!” she said between +her teeth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony followed her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you want me to go?” he asked, fixing +her with his eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How can I want you to go?” she said impatiently. +“It’s all too—stupid. I’ve been +such a fool. I wish I hadn’t, Tony, and now +it’s too late. If you’ve been a fool too often, +you can’t stop. I’ve got into the way of it; +I can’t get out. But what’s the use—of your +getting into the way of it, too?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps I sha’n’t,” said Anthony. “Perhaps +together we can manage something? We +might even manage to get out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was aware that he was suggesting something +he did not know the strength of; but +Kitty knew the strength of it. She looked at +him with weary, doubtful eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was not a sound anywhere in the +house. The rain dripped slowly from the +eaves; the air hung in a thick mist about the +old gray tower; the night shut them in upon +themselves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Kitty at last, “I suppose I’ll +try and be your friend; I do rather want one. +I’ll talk to you to-morrow. You’d better +go now. It’s not exactly what I’d planned +as an end to our evening; still, it ought to +please Peckham. Good-by, Tony. Be careful +of the stairs as you go down.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He looked at her for a moment. She stood +smiling at him with a queer, crooked little +smile. It made him wonder why, after all, +he was leaving her. He hadn’t any sense +that he was doing right; he had only a queer +instinct that he wanted to think things over +and not to let her down. She had been let +down so often. She had let herself down so +often.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He turned and left her without looking +back.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty waited till she heard the door of the +tower close at the foot of the stairs. Then she +lay down on the divan and closed her eyes. +Her face was white and drawn as if with very +sharp physical pain. She kept quite still and +made no sound; but after an hour had passed +she got up and began walking to and fro, as +Anthony had done while he was waiting for +her; but no one came to bring any light to +Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Once she went to the open window and +looked out into the night.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t bear it,” she whispered between her +teeth; and then, “I shall have to bear it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Toward morning she went slowly to her own +room and undressed. The pain had gone now. +She turned her face toward the dawn and +slept.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony found himself wondering +the next morning if he hadn’t put his +foot into it. The breakfast-table is a place +where the emotions of last night are apt to +bring this metaphor home to one’s mind. +Heroism looks less heroic before ham and eggs, +and the desire to save the world flickers in front +of bread and marmalade.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The breakfast-table at Merry Gardens was +a particularly normal and easy-going institution. +There were things left hot on the side-board, +and you could be as late as you liked. +Very often there was no other company provided +for you but sunbeams and the morning +newspaper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s adventure of the night before did +not precisely sink in its significance, but he +imperceptibly changed his attitude toward it. +Hadn’t he, after all, been rather a fool? He +was a practical man, and he had allowed himself +to get into a situation which was, to say +the least of it, unpractical. Kitty had refused +his offer, and he had refused hers. +What, then, was their alternative?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew too much about his feelings +to suppose that the momentary shock given to +them would do more than hold them back for +a time. He was the same, and so was Kitty. +She was a different person from the Kitty he +had believed her to be, but she had the same +powers of attraction. If they drifted, they +would drift in one direction—the direction he +intended to avoid. It was only if they parted +that they could escape both the horns of their +dilemma. The reasonable thing, then, was to +part, as Kitty herself had pointed out to him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Some strange, obscure, but very obstinate +feeling in Anthony the night before had refused +to endorse his reason. He could not +leave her looking like a beaten child.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne came in and poured out his tea. +She explained that Jim had been up hours +trying to persuade a calf that its best interests +lay in the direction of the butcher. Jim was +better than the cow-man at these moments of +persuasion, because he always knew which way +an unwilling animal is liable to turn. The +cow-man went the other way with force, but +Jim went the same way with strategy, and +calves, like the rest of humanity, yield readily +only to those who appear to be agreeing with +them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That brings us back to the old question,” +said Anthony, tapping a new-laid egg, “of +which we are wisest to follow, reason or instinct?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It doesn’t bring Jim back to it,” Daphne +replied, with a dimple; “because he hasn’t any +reason. He just feels things are so, and they +are so. I never knew a person who had fewer +processes and more arrivals.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then you think instincts are wiser than +reasons, even when they contradict common +sense?” asked Anthony, curiously.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, common sense!” said Daphne, with +contempt. “Who minds contradicting common +sense? I’m sure I don’t; it’s so crude! +It sounds all right, and then you poke it, and +over it goes like a house of cards. Besides, +when you come down to it, it’s generally a +way of saving one’s own corns. When people +say, ‘But do let us take a common-sense view +of things,’ don’t they always mean, ‘Don’t, for +heaven’s sake! let me in for anything’?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony laughed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My profession is founded on common +sense,” he explained. “Half of good doctoring +is looking at facts straight and acting on +them sensibly. People who get ill can’t do +this, and doctors drag them back into it and +hold them there till nature reinforces them. +I can’t dismiss common sense so lightly. Besides, +you let in other people as well as yourself +if you act against reason. What becomes +of bad instincts?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t call them instincts,” said +Daphne. “Those are desires, they come out +of the top of your mind, you know, and pretend +to be instincts, because they’re strong, +and you want to do them. When I say an instinct, +I mean the whole of you, back of your +mind, that set feeling like a good chocolate +shape. You feel, ‘I’ve <span class='it'>got</span> to do it,’ not, ‘I +<span class='it'>want</span> to do it.’ Something bigger than you is +getting at you or coming out through you, I +don’t know which.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe in things bigger than myself +interfering with my will,” said Anthony. +“I have not experienced it.” Then he stopped +suddenly. After all, he <span class='it'>had</span> experienced it, +had been himself subject in dreadful hours to +strange reinforcements. He had known and +done things that he could not account for; they +had not come from himself. Perhaps they +came from his unconscious self; but he disliked +this phrase, which he thought fanciful.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s a duck’s egg,” observed Daphne, +swiftly. “They taste a little stronger, but +they’re just as nice. If it’s <span class='it'>there</span>, the something +I mean, it doesn’t matter whether you +believe in it or not. I mean <span class='it'>it</span> won’t mind. +It’s too large to mind; it just acts.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You seem to know a good deal about +<span class='it'>it</span>” said Anthony, accepting the duck’s egg. +“Newly married people make extraordinary +discoveries. First they discover themselves. +This, I believe, takes the honeymoon, and is +not interesting to observers; then they discover +the universe; after that they settle down +and proceed to take both to pieces at their +leisure. You seem to be in the middle phase, +the most illuminating to the uninitiated. May +I ask if you know how your glorified instinct +is liable to act, and what it feels like?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If it’s your instinct,” said Daphne, with +unshaken confidence, “<span class='it'>you’ll</span> know that. I +don’t know anything about your instinct, you +see; I only know my own. It’s just telling +me I haven’t ordered the dinner, and the +butcher may come any minute, so I must be +quick about it. You’ll be in to-night, won’t +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony hesitated.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” he said. “Better not count +on me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne, too, paused for a moment. Then +she said tentatively:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Mother comes next week, Tony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony met her eyes steadily.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, Daphne,” he answered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’ll be rather awkward,” Daphne began +a little uncomfortably, “about Kitty, won’t it? +Mother’s sure to guess there’s somebody, and +wonder why we don’t have her here. Do you +really <span class='it'>want</span> me to have Kitty here, Tony?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony got up, and opened the door for +her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” he said quietly, “I don’t.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne drew a quick breath as if something +had hurt her. She knew that yesterday Anthony +had wanted Kitty to come to the house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Their eyes held each other for a long moment, +but neither of them said anything. The +Ardens were a frank, but uncommunicative, +family. They expressed what they thought, +but they kept their private affairs to themselves. +When they most wanted to show sympathy +they got out of one another’s way.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne left him alone now. She went to +deal with the cook, and Anthony resettled to +his breakfast.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had decided what to do. His conversation +with Daphne had not altered him,—conversations +with women never did,—it had +merely helped to crystallize his intention. He +would go and tell Kitty their scheme wouldn’t +work:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It wouldn’t be particularly easy to tell her +after having persuaded her the night before +to try it, but it would be less easy still for +Kitty if they tried it and it failed. If they +had got to part, they could at least part decently +and as friends.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This was where Anthony made his first mistake: +lovers do not part as friends. If they +meet in order to part, they very seldom succeed +in parting at all, and when they do succeed, +it is with bitterness and without the +sanity of reasonable forms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Anthony arrived at the farm he found +Mr. Costrelle in possession. He had motored +over from a friend’s house in the course of the +morning.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I always arrive an hour before dinner and +leave an hour after breakfast,” Mr. Costrelle +informed Anthony. “I consider it one of the +chief rules of civilization. Nobody wants to +see you trailing about his house all day with +a train in your eye. I am sure you agree with +me. I arrived here at this unearthly hour +only because Kitty has persuaded me to look +on this as a home; otherwise I would have motored +to and fro from duck pond to duck pond +till seven o’clock in the evening, poisoning +myself with bad sherry and cold beef rolled in +sawdust, which is what English inns provide +you with in the place of food. The country is +a beastly place for putting in time. ‘The +kindly fruits of the earth’ are very much overrated. +I never enjoy them, and there are no +rational amusements. I don’t know how you +can stand it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tony hasn’t found any difficulty so far,” +she remarked, “but of course he doesn’t happen +to be my father. You’ve just come in +time,” she added to Anthony. “Papa has +brought me an invitation from an aunt to stay +two or three weeks with her in London—an +invitation that’s been about five years en route, +and I’m going to show him what rags I have +to wear. You can help him decide if they’ll +do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better go to Paris,” observed Mr. +Costrelle, “and buy new ones. It won’t take +any time and will save a lot of worry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t afford it,” said Kitty, briefly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle looked from Kitty to Anthony +and from Anthony to Kitty. He drew out a +long and extraordinarily good cigar. It was +as fragrant as very good tea.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he said in his slow, cool voice, in +which suggestion always told with the directness +of a carefully chosen chemical, “I should +have thought you could have afforded it—somehow +or other.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If Mr. Costrelle had said, “Isn’t this man +here to foot your bills?” he could not have +made his meaning clearer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty flushed suddenly to the roots of her +hair; the tears showed for an instant in her +eyes. It was the only time in her life that she +appeared obviously disconcerted. She spoke +quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, one can always raise money, of +course—” she agreed, with a little shaken +laugh. “I’m not totally at the end of my resources, +Papa. Still, I think what I have will +do. You two sit up here in the tower as a +council of war, and I’ll try them before you +one by one. It’ll be a mannikin show without +music.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle nodded and prepared to make +himself comfortable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had spent between fifty and sixty years +in the pursuit of comfort, and he could always +effect the process better for himself than the +most careful attendant could accomplish for +him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He shut the tower windows because he disliked +drafts, then he chose the easiest position +on the divan with consideration, placed himself +with his back to the light—he disliked +glare—drew a footstool in front of him, and +proceeded to enjoy his cigar.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He did not ask Anthony if he smoked; he +did not care if Anthony smoked or not. He +considered his cigars far too good for young +men.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony watched him with an antagonism +that was queerly blended with amusement. It +was impossible not to be amused by a person +whose absorption in himself was so unruffled. +Mr. Costrelle was tall, lean, and pale. He had +a long, well-finished face with remarkably blue +eyes; they shone out of the hollows of his white +cheeks like forget-me-nots by the side of a pool.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His hair was gray, thick, and very well +brushed. He went to the best tailor in London +and had an excellent set of the shoulders. +He carried the marks of his perpetual dissipation +lightly. They were plain to Anthony’s +trained and scrutinizing eyes, but they would +have escaped the ordinary observer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle had done several generous +actions in his life; he had not yet become incapable +of doing them, but he had never continuously +put himself out for any one. He +did not care what people thought of him, and +he said whatever came into his head. When +he wanted to do a thing he did it, whatever +consequences might follow. He considered it +extremely bourgeois to be checked by consequences; +and though he had a very shrewd +idea of the feelings of others, as people who +live for sensation usually have, he never for +a moment stopped to consider them. He +asked no quarter and he gave none. He did +not believe in any one else’s motives. If they +were different from his own, he thought them +morbid or sentimental.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle believed that some people +were foolish about getting what they wanted +and other people were intelligent, but he did +not think there was any other difference worth +mentioning. He said to Kitty:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I shall take trouble to show you the ropes, +but I sha’n’t take any further trouble about +you. A person who knows the ropes and +doesn’t follow them properly is a fool, and a +fool’s a person that every one else had better +avoid.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle observed Anthony without +looking at him. Anthony was a good-looking +man of his own class who had had a rough time +of it and had succeeded in holding himself +together. Mr. Costrelle had already decided +that it was high time Kitty settled down and +married. He came down on purpose to tell +her so, and he decided that Anthony would do +as well as any one else.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not look a particularly easy +man to fool, but his having had a bad time +would probably make him easier, and Mr. +Costrelle did justice to his daughter; he considered +that Kitty, if she kept her head, could +fool any man.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This decision did not make Mr. Costrelle +politer to Anthony; it merely made him observant.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You interested in women’s clothes?” he +remarked after a pause.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Anthony. “I suppose I have a +general idea of whether they suit them or not.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a great waste of time having general +ideas about clothes,” said Mr. Costrelle, dispassionately. +“It’s a thing men ought to +study carefully in order to help the women. +Women have very little sense about what they +wear; they put themselves into the hands of +dressmakers, ignorant and interested people, +most of ’em, and get ruined. Of course my +girl’s different. I taught Kitty myself. She +consults the one or two real designers there +are in Paris, but she has her own ideas. She +is the only perfectly dressed woman I know. +You never see her in a motor looking as if she +were going to a Sunday-school treat, or off +to church as if she were leading a ballet. She +considers the occasion, what hat’ll carry in a +high wind, what in general suits her at different +times of the day, and she gets the right +shade and the right materials and puts ’em on +properly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Cut is the main point. A woman should +know her own figure as a captain knows his +ship. If she goes wrong about line, give her +up as a bad job; take her to the nearest department +shop and let her run amuck among +ready-made clothes. Nothing’ll save her. +The French haven’t anything like our natural +amount of beauty, but you hardly ever see a +plain woman in France. Women have too +much sense to be plain over there. They +know how to avoid it; besides, their men help +them. Look at a German <span class='it'>Frau</span>! By Jove! +she is the indictment of the whole race. It’s +a satisfaction to me to think that the Germans +have the women they deserve.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, here’s Kitty, black and white, with a +touch of scarlet. Those stripes are too broad +for your height, Kitty; they make you look like +a young zebra. You want to have the stripes +halved. Get it copied with a smaller stripe, +and, I should say, a quarter of an inch shorter. +You can stand it, and the scarlet’ll tell more; +otherwise it’ll do very nicely.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The dresses followed one another in a bewildering +flood; they seemed to Anthony interminable +and extravagant, and yet he found +himself enchanted by them. In each he was +confronted by a new Kitty. It was like seeing +a succession of Lady Hamilton’s portraits: +you could not fix your mind on which was loveliest.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was not so beautiful as the immortal +Emma, but she had more spirit. She had the +quality which makes a man sit up. No man +in Kitty’s presence ever forgot to make the +best of himself; it seemed worth while.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle smoked on steadily, with +watchful eyes. Nothing escaped his criticism. +He examined the smallest detail, and he and +Kitty discussed the points of difference inexhaustibly. +They listened indulgently to Anthony +when he spoke, but they plainly regarded +him as one of the uninitiated.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Their relationship surprised Anthony, who +had been brought up in a family where the +feeling of kinship was strong, it was at once +so cordial and so casual. Kitty and her father +might have been congenial strangers meeting +for the first time in a railway-carriage. They +obviously got on well together, but there +seemed no particular reason why they should +ever meet again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty reappeared for the last time in the +yellow chiffon dress she had worn the night +before. It was intolerable to Anthony that +she should wear it now. Kitty took it as a +matter of course; she even sat in the small +Sheraton chair, with her head thrown back, +and glanced across the room with unmoved +eyes at her father.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think I’m all right in this particular +primrose shade?” she asked anxiously. “I +meant it to have less color in it, but they always +coarsen their shades over here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’ll be better at night,” agreed her father. +“If you want to tone it down a bit, have the +scarf the same color as the jade ornament.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Are you sitting straight?” asked Anthony, +suddenly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty stared at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What a funny question!” she said a little +irritably. “Yes, I suppose I am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That left shoulder doesn’t look the same +as the right,” said Anthony; “that’s all.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle looked amazed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She never had a curvature,” he said. “I +hope you haven’t done anything so stupid, my +dear girl, as to develop one at your age.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I haven’t,” said Kitty, impatiently. +“Tony’s a doctor; he’s fussy. All +doctors are fussy. They like to make discoveries; +and as the only discovery they can make +is something wrong with you, they’re very pessimistic +company. What a pity you can’t discover +I’m all right, Tony! It would be much +nicer for papa, and have the added merit, for +the scientific mind, of being accurate.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not answer her; he was looking +intently at her shoulder. There was something +wrong about it. Kitty got up with a +little impatient swing of her skirts and left the +room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” observed +Mr. Costrelle, thoughtfully. “I had +an idea your people owned Pannell, that jolly +old place in Sussex, under the downs.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They do,” said Anthony, shortly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re the oldest son living, aren’t you?” +pursued Mr. Costrelle, ignoring Anthony’s annoyance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a strange fad,” said Mr. Costrelle, +contemplatively. “Personally I think medical +science is frightfully overrated. Things +that don’t get right of themselves, stay wrong; +that’s my experience. Besides, what you +want of a doctor is not to stop your doing +things, which is, I take it, what you prescribe +half the time, but to show you how you can +go on doing them with impunity. But you +don’t. Nobody gives impunity—there’s no +such thing—and when you come to think of +it, it’s the only thing you want. Who cares +to be well if they can’t do as they like, and who +cares to do what they like if they can’t be +well?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony ignored this conundrum. He was +still thinking hard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I ought to have noticed that before,” he +said under his breath, “unless, of course, she +has her clothes bunched up there. That would +account for it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Her <span class='it'>clothes</span> bunched up!” said Mr. Costrelle +with scorn. “My dear young man, is +that the kind of dress which has clothes bunched +up under it, and is Kitty, poor innocent child—innocent +I mean of being idiotic—the kind of +person not to put on her clothes properly?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty came back, and the subject dropped.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see how you ever succeeded in getting +Aunt Mallard to invite me to the house +again,” said Kitty, “considering my fearful +reputation. Do you, Tony? You must have +been awfully clever, Papa.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Mr. Costrelle, complacently, “I +was not, in this instance, clever; I was merely +good. Very few women who have passed their +first youth are obdurate to a repentant sinner +of the opposite sex. Your aunt was no exception. +I sacrificed myself for you. I simply +said: ‘My dear Augusta, can you wonder +that the child has tales told about her when +you consider my career? I regret it deeply, +but it has been I hesitate to tell you how +shocking. I dare say if I had done as you +advised earlier, and had a thoroughly good +companion for her, people might have held +their tongues; but you know what country +tongues are, unsophisticated and anxious to +believe the worst. And I admit I disliked the +idea of a respectable middle-aged lady in my +house—I mean in Kitty’s house. They never +have been in mine as far as I can remember. +Either I should have shocked them, and they +would have gone; or else I wouldn’t have +shocked them, and then they wouldn’t have +been of much use if they had stayed. You see +my point?’</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your aunt said she did, and that it was +deplorable; she added: ‘As all my girls are +married, I don’t mind taking Kitty for a fortnight. +But mind, no fast married men are to +come to the house.’</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your aunt is so intelligent and, for a deeply +religious woman, so on the spot.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I took the liberty of answering for you, +Kitty; but I said I supposed it didn’t matter +how fast the unmarried men were. And your +aunt most tactfully remarked that it didn’t do +to be too old-fashioned.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dare say I shall have some fun,” said +Kitty, thoughtfully. “I hope you said I must +have a latch-key.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle shook his head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I did my best,” he explained. “I said you +were always very considerate about the servants +not having late hours, and that if you +happened to be out with me—to a theater or a +lecture, you know—it might be as well for her +to lend you an extra key. She said lectures +were never late. It was the best I could do. +I dare say you’ll manage it better.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dear old thing!” said Kitty, appreciatively, +“how well you get on with Aunt Augusta! +It seems almost a pity you don’t see more of +her.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s not at all a pity,” said Mr. Costrelle, +firmly. “She takes away my appetite for +lunch, to which she always invites me. +Women with drab complexions should never +wear fawn color; but they always do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be one of the unmarried ones,” said +Anthony, suddenly. “I suppose I can call +even if I am not fast?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you?” said Kitty, carelessly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She took it as a matter of course, and yet an +hour ago it had not been a matter of course.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony looked away from Kitty. He was +aware that he had never cared so little for her +as he did at the moment of his decision.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She and her father struck him as intolerably +light. He could not understand their rapacity +for pleasure. Neither of them had any +fixed goal beyond their fugitive desires.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All their wits, all their ingenuities, were +bent in attaining temporary gratifications. +Neither of them had any roots or appeared to +have any compunction.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Last night Kitty had seemed to be really +sorry; she had spoken with what sounded like +conviction. Where was the conviction now? +She had wanted Anthony as a stand-by, if as +nothing else. To-day she was apparently indifferent +whether he was there or not.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It would be easy to leave her now, and yet +Anthony knew that what held him to her was +the very fact of her incorrigible lightness. It +had flashed into his mind that she was threatened—threatened +as a butterfly is threatened +by the brutal onslaught of a sudden storm. +He could feel the pitiless cold of it against her +colored wings. There was no shelter for her +in Mr. Costrelle, and Kitty had herself broken +down all other shelters.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony could have left Kitty if he had +been certain of the sunshine for her. There +might, after all, be nothing wrong; but Anthony +was not certain of the sunshine.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>After lunch they went on the river. +Mr. Costrelle excused himself. He explained +that only the very young or the exasperatingly +dutiful ever did things between the +hours of two and four o’clock in the afternoon. +This was a time that should be dedicated to a +reticent idleness. As he was neither young +nor dutiful, he intended to conceal himself +until tea-time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty reappeared in a dress that was the +color of a Malmaison carnation. She had a +felt hat of the same shade, with a narrow black-velvet +ribbon round it, and she carried a rose-colored +parasol.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The ways of women,” observed Mr. Costrelle, +regarding Kitty thoughtfully through +a single eyeglass, “are strange. They are not +past finding out, as we are told those of Providence +are, but they have at times the same deceptive +sidewise movement, like a crab’s. Explain +to us, my dear child, why you refrained +from showing us that very excellent garment +this morning. The pink topaz set in brilliants, +which you wear round your neck, is new to +me and a good note.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, this dress?” said Kitty, serenely. “I +forgot I had it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A flicker of amusement passed over Mr. +Costrelle’s heavy eyelids. He knew now what +he had wanted to find out. Kitty liked this +new young man; she liked him enough to reserve +surprises for him, and then lie about +them. He let his eyeglass fall and retired into +the house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was one of those early summer days which +England occasionally drops upon her appreciative, +but unexpectant, inhabitants. May was +at its loveliest, the trees were all in blossom, +the blackbird gave his deepest under-water +note, the thrush flung out his reiterated challenge +of sheer joy, and the young world was +full of the surprises of its multitudinous green +shades. On the river the reeds and rushes +lived a life of their own; loose-strife and forget-me-nots +grew out from the green banks; yellow +water lilies and lifted buds of coral set +their small thick-set flowers afloat upon the +stream. Dragon-flies darted to and fro, +shooting blue and green flames between the +fastnesses of the dark bulrushes, small shocks +of speed and color.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty leaned back against the apple-green +cushions of the punt, supremely comfortable +and at peace.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was always capable of complete surrender +to a sunny hour; her conscience never interfered +with either her own or other people’s +comfort. She had the disposition of ephemeral +things to love the light and play in it, however +short it was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty crossed her slim ankles, and, opening +a jeweled case, drew out a cigarette and lit it. +She narrowed her eyes and fixed them upon +Anthony with satisfaction.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s head was bare and his shirt open +at the throat; his figure showed to better advantage +in motion than at rest. Motion relieved +and freed him from his own watchfulness. +He punted with long, sure strokes and +a steady eye.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had no need to think of her hat or fear +the magnetism of low-growing bushes. The +motion of the boat was imperceptible and +noiseless; it seemed a part of the slow-moving +stream. She yielded herself completely to +the serene compulsion of the sunny hour. She +smiled a little, but she had no thoughts; her +mind melted into sensation.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony could not let himself go. He, +too, wanted to enjoy himself; but he had an +ulterior motive, and no one with an ulterior +motive has ever yet succeeded in sharing the +joy of others.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He leaned forward suddenly, with his eyes +intent upon Kitty’s face.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter with that shoulder of +yours?” he asked quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty turned her lazy eyes back to the +stream. They rested on the quick spurt of +a dragon-fly between the hawthorn bushes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” she said carelessly, “didn’t I tell you? +You were right, after all. I’d caught up some +ribbons I wear on a bodice underneath; they +did make an awful lump. Don’t tell papa. +He’d think it so careless of me not to have +taken it off.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was the only low-necked dress you tried +on,” observed Anthony, with the same intentness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Was it?” replied Kitty, indifferently. “I +don’t think I have any other decent ones. I +must get some when I go to town. I hardly +ever go out in the evenings here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s carelessness would have deceived the +very elect, but she did not quite succeed in +deceiving Anthony. Added to the keenness +of his professional training was the instinctive +watchfulness of love. Anthony noticed that +when Kitty had answered him she unconsciously +straightened herself a little, nor did +she return to the same complete relaxation +again. She in her turn watched him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s all right, then,” he answered in +a tone of obvious relief, which was more successful +in blinding Kitty than she had been in +deceiving him. “I am going to stay here till +you turn me out this afternoon,” he added. +“To-morrow I sha’n’t be able to see you. My +mother’s coming to Merry Gardens.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s she like?” asked Kitty, curiously.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Few men are capable of giving a comprehensive +description of their mothers offhand, and +Anthony was no exception.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well,” he said a little awkwardly, “I +suppose she’s like other people’s mothers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty brushed aside this evasion.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You must tell me about her,” she asserted. +“I never met her, you know. She came to see +Daphne after Daphne first came here, but I +was away. I should like to see your mother, +Tony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This was merely the expression of a pious +hope on Kitty’s part. She was not really desirous +of meeting the mothers of her men +friends, with whom her one point of contact +would have led to direct antagonism, and she +would have let the matter slide if Anthony had +shown a little tact.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tact with women is the knowledge of when +to leave a subject alone, and Anthony had not +grasped this saving truth.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no,” he remarked hurriedly, “you +wouldn’t care about her in the least. She’s +not your sort, she wouldn’t entertain you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s narrowed eyes grew slowly larger.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You mean,” she said in a voice of deceptive +gentleness, “that she wouldn’t like me and +would disapprove of me?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This was, of course, what Anthony had +meant, but the way was still open to him to +save the situation by a direct denial. The +path of transgressors is hard, but it is softness +itself compared with the path of a man +who tells an adverse truth to a woman who +loves him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty could stand criticism, but she could +not stand Anthony’s criticism.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“In a sense I do mean that,” agreed Anthony. +“I mean both. It wouldn’t be at all +suitable.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I assure you,” said Kitty, with dangerous +sweetness, “I have sometimes had a ‘<span class='it'>succés fou</span>’ +with old ladies.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony winced. He did not like hearing +his mother called an old lady, nor did he like +to think of Kitty setting herself to win a delusive +popularity from his mother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It wouldn’t do at all,” he said decisively. +“I told Daphne so this morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty sat up perfectly straight. She threw +her cigarette into the water; her eyes literally +blazed at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You did what?” she asked incredulously. +“You told Daphne that I was unsuitable to +meet your mother?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Practically,” Anthony admitted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Then Daphne knows,” said Kitty in a cold, +level voice, “that <span class='it'>you</span> know what I am.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony drew the punt into the nearest +bank, shipped his pole, and sat down opposite +Kitty. He saw now that he was in for trouble, +and he prepared to face it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She only knows I didn’t think it suitable,” +he replied doggedly. “I can’t help it, Kitty, +I don’t!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Suitable!” exclaimed Kitty, her voice lashing +at the word. “No, I suppose I’m <span class='it'>not</span> +suitable; that’s what you all are in your nice, +safe, tidy, unspeakably selfish world! Your +mother’s <span class='it'>safe</span>, Daphne’s safe, you’re safe—and, +if you like, you can play with me outside +it, and take anything I care to give you, and +<span class='it'>you’re</span> all right! My father could meet your +mother,—you know his life, don’t you?—but +that doesn’t matter. He’s quite suitable. +Only girls who have had bad times and been +broken by them aren’t suitable. They’re +dangerous; they must be kept down! They’d +do elderly respectable married women harm! +We’d shock them, I suppose, by showing them +what happens when things don’t go right in +this awfully easy, decent, bread-and-butter +world!</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You refused to let Daphne invite me. +Yesterday you fought my battles and were +keen to get me asked, but yesterday of course +you thought I was innocent—a little rapid—but +innocent. To-day I’m not. I’m just a +graceless little pariah you can take out +in a punt! You offered me your friendship +last night, and I was fool enough to think you +meant something rather fine by it. You +didn’t; you meant just this—that I was good +enough to amuse you, but I mustn’t touch +your precious family with a forty-foot pole.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take me back, Tony. I wish I’d left you +to Miss Mellicot. But you’re worse than her, +for she’d have had the sense to leave me alone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re hopelessly unfair,” said Anthony, +steadying himself against his rising anger. +“You want both to eat your cake and have it. +You went off the track of your own free will, +then why don’t you stay off it? I didn’t make +the damned rules that keep people on it; but +I know they’re there, and if you break them—and +you have a perfect right to break them +if you want to—you ought to be prepared to +pay for it and not hold me accountable. If +people take the trouble to keep a few plain +rules in order to make a good, clean place for +bringing up their children, why should they +let in those who haven’t controlled themselves +to spoil it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve said enough,” said Kitty, white to +the lips. “Take me home.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, I haven’t said enough,” said Anthony, +firmly, “and I want you to listen to me, because +I want to stand by you through anything +except unfairness. But it’s no use expecting +me to agree to a lot of sentimental +cant about the kindness and unkindness of a +perfectly obvious fact. It isn’t a question of +my mother only. Of course it wouldn’t hurt +her to meet you, and of course if you wanted +to charm her, you’d charm her, then she’d +ask you to Pannell.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That,” interrupted Kitty, viciously, “<span class='it'>would</span> +bring the world to an end, wouldn’t it? How +I should contaminate Pannell! You’d have +to have the whole place disinfected afterward!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s not the point,” replied Anthony, +pitilessly. “The point is that you would be +there on false pretenses, because my people +wouldn’t let you come, of course, if they knew +what I know about you. Do you like going +about on false pretenses? But of course you +do. I’m a fool to suppose you have any +honor; you’re going to London now on false +pretenses.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah,” interrupted Kitty, with a cruel little +laugh, “I see. You object to my going to +London. That’s your real trouble, isn’t it? +I might meet a man there who wouldn’t be as +selfish as a dog in the manger and as moral as +a curate. I might meet a <span class='it'>real</span> man.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s impulse was to spring out of the +punt on to the bank and leave Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She sat there looking at him with a little derisive +smile on her lips. There was no light +in her small, white face; it was fixed and implacable +and as set against him as an iron door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt every passion he thought he +had conquered rise up in him, and they were +all ugly, greedy, cruel passions without intermixture +or relief. The green trees met over +their heads; the high, pale clouds sailed by on +idle wings; the whole lovely summer world +about them was as unreal as a painted screen. +Only their anger was real; their unsparing desire +to hurt each other was real; their foolish, +ineffectual combat, which took for both of them +the light out of the day.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty held herself as still as a trapped bird. +Her heart beat painfully in her throat, but +she met Anthony’s angry eyes with her level, +light gaze, and kept her smiling lips unshaken.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“D’you mean that, Kitty?” Anthony asked +slowly. “D’you mean I don’t seem like a +real man to you because I want to make love +to you and haven’t? By God! I’ll make +love to you now if you do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you dare to touch me,” said Kitty, +quietly, “I’ll upset the boat. Of course I +shall never speak to you again in any case.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, all right,” said Anthony, “only in the +future when you feel inclined to cry down the +justice of good people you might remember +with what kind of fairness you’ve treated me. +I’m off. You can punt back by yourself, +can’t you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, I can’t,” said Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was something in the way in which +she said these three little words that shook +Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He could not have said what it was that +shook him, but there was a controlled helplessness +in Kitty’s voice which prevented him from +leaving her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll take you back, then,” he said stiffly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It occurred to him afterward that he might +have punted back and let Kitty walk home, but +it did not occur to him then, and it never crossed +his mind that it had occurred to Kitty already, +but that she knew she could not walk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He took up the pole suddenly and rose to his +feet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty watched him for a few moments +in silence, then she said in a small contrite +voice:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tony, I was angry; I didn’t mean that—not +the horrid thing I said about your not +being a man. It’s just because you are I +mind so awfully. Of course it’s silly. One +really likes one’s own world best and one +shouldn’t poach. I expect you did mean all +you said, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony considered. He could not honestly +say that he had not meant what he said, +but he wished very much he had not said it. +There are probably few regrets more keen +than those we feel when we have been righteous +over much.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dare say,” he admitted, “that what made +me so nasty <span class='it'>was</span> partly your going to London. +We were having—at least I thought we were—rather +a good time here, and all of a sudden +you seemed to forget all about it and +only to think of clothes and nothing else, like +a gnat in the air turning people’s heads and +all that London rubbish, and I felt I’d been +a fool to care so much when you evidently +couldn’t have cared at all.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I see,” said Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She leaned back against the cushions with +the lightness of a fallen leaf. She turned her +head away so that the brim of her hat shaded +her from Anthony’s persistent eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I do want to go to London, Tony,” she +said slowly, “only I liked this, too. You make +a mistake if you thought I didn’t care. I do +care for all this. What you said about false +pretenses, you know, I’ve always thought of +differently. I never really believed I owed +it to the world not to score off it when I could. +I felt I had been downed. If Aunt Augusta +had cared a button for me, I’d have told her +the truth and taken the consequences; but she +is getting something by having me up or she +wouldn’t ask me. I don’t know how to explain +quite. I’ve cared for awfully few people +and I’ve never tried to explain unless I’ve +cared, and I haven’t felt as if I owed anybody +anything; but though I honestly chose my +own line, and ought to face it, I would have +kept my—my self-control, as you call it, and +made the effort, if I’d been even a little happy +or had had any one who cared a pin whether I +kept straight or not. Of course there was +Peckham, but she wasn’t with me then. I +was awfully lonely, and then I knew how. +Lots of other girls are quite as lonely, but a +good many of them keep out of my little bothers +because, you see, they don’t know how. +Not all, of course; they’re real good ones too, +only it’s not as different as you think. Awfully +few people are <span class='it'>really</span> different; things +that push them about are different.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony acknowledged this possibility. He +didn’t want to hurt Kitty now; he wanted to +spare her, but he was uncertain of the best way +of sparing her. Facts had not spared her, +and Anthony still believed in the wisdom of +facts.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Still,” he explained, “if people have met +hard times by keeping straight, it doesn’t +seem quite fair for those who have chosen what +is, I suppose, after all, the easier way, to come +down on the straight ones for not wanting to +share their privileges with them. There is +something, isn’t there, in paying for your +fun?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty smiled her little twisted smile.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, Tony,” she said; “I know, and +it’s more sensible to be good, and you get an +awful lot of things thrown in—coals and +blankets, you know. The fun doesn’t keep +you half as warm as the coals and blankets, +but I expect it’s quite fair really.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes it’s the other way round,” objected +Anthony. “I don’t think being good +or bad is advantageous in itself; it depends on +what you’re out for. If you’re out for an +easy time, I think the chances are that you +get what you want more easily by being lawless. +Only if you have to pay for it afterward, +as I’m bound to admit in a carefully +policed world the lawless usually do, you +mustn’t squeal, must you? That’s my idea.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, I won’t squeal,” said Kitty in a low +voice. “I think I see what you mean, Tony. +We’ll go home now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Must we?” pleaded Anthony. “I’ve been +such a brute and I’ve given you such a loathsome +time, and I think I wanted to be particularly +nice. I don’t know how it happened.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I do,” said Kitty, laughing; “I know exactly +how it happened. It was all my fault. +I wanted to be wicked, but now I want to go +in. I’m not really feeling quite good yet. +I’ve climbed down, and that’s made me awfully +anxious for my tea. I’ve never climbed +down for any one in my life before, Tony; +so when I’m particularly tiresome you’ll remember +that,—won’t you?—and in return I’ll +try to forgive you for being in the right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know that I was in the right,” +said Anthony, uncertainly making for the +landing-stage.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’ll make it all the easier to forgive +you,” said Kitty, lightly. “You’ll put the +cushions away, won’t you, while I go up to +the house?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She slipped out of the punt and up the narrow +wooden steps before Anthony could help +her, but she did not go straight back to the +house.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was some time before she rejoined Anthony, +and her father, on the lawn.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If I were you,” said Mr. Costrelle as she +approached the tea-table, “I should send for +some more of that face cream from Paris. +You’ve sat out too long in the sun.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was unaccustomed to the processes +of thought; she considered reason to be +of the same general quality as coal-mining, a +useful industry safely left in the hands of +experts. She did not foresee trouble. She +came against the corners of adverse facts as +those who walk unwarily in the dark bruise +themselves against unexpected obstacles.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When she went to bed the night after her +quarrel with Anthony she found herself exposed +to one of these unexpected spiritual +bruises. She could not sleep. It was a soundless, +mild June night. The garden lay gray +and still under her window. There was no +darkness; only a long suspension of light. +Nothing was alive but Kitty. She drew on +a scarlet dressing-gown and leaned out of the +window.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It must be rather funny, she thought, being +dead. If it was only stillness, like the gray +shadow of the lawn, one wouldn’t mind very +much, and there would be no pain and no +bother. You wouldn’t have to decide anything.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was not in severe pain to-night. Those +singular paroxysms which seized her chest and +her right arm, and made her feel like a creature +caught in a trap, were mercifully holding +off.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was clever of Anthony to guess that there +was something the matter with her, perhaps +it was that odd little lump under her arm which +had made one shoulder look higher than the +other. She had examined her neck very carefully +before she went to bed and noticed nothing +herself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had never taken the least precaution +about her health. She knew nothing about illness +except that it was very bad for people’s +looks. She did not think a lump under her +arm could be an illness. If the pain got too +bad, she would not stand it, but she wouldn’t +be bothered with doctors and operations. All +the wild things she loved and knew lived freely, +and when their time came, went into bushes +and died. Of course it wouldn’t be as simple +as that for her, but you could make it fairly +simple.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A bat flickered by, heavily drooping like +a sagging leaf. Kitty moved a little and +watched the darker shadow of the shrubbery +swallowing its tiny form.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She liked the thin vague darkness melting +away into the sky; there seemed nothing that +could hurt you in it. After all, she’d had a +good time, and a long life was merely the fading +down of good times.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t find anything new in it,” her father +had assured her. “Nor do I think the facts I +already know worth the attention one has more +or less to give them. I survive from habit, and +so, I believe, do most people.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty did not think habit worth survival. +She wished to live a hundred lives, each of +them different, and she had tried only one, and +it was very much the same. The worst of it +was, if you went into one kind of life thoroughly, +it seemed to dish you for all the others. +Hers for instance—she hadn’t quite realized +before how it had dished her for people like +Anthony’s mother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s practice had always been to eat her +cake and have it. She had eaten and forgotten; +and when she wanted fresh cake, it +was always there. It was true that there had +been occasional breakdowns in this system; +but on the whole she had lived the life she had +chosen, with very few rebuffs and no remorse. +It was rather absurd at this time of day to +begin to want a different kind of life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Perhaps it had been a mistake to take up +Anthony. She hadn’t seen at the beginning +why they shouldn’t just have fun—her kind +of fun.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony had his own kind of fun. He +thought about right and wrong, though he +wasn’t a bit religious. Kitty never thought +about right and wrong if she could help it. +She didn’t see what it had got to do with her +and Anthony. Why couldn’t it be left to +people who went to church and liked it? +When Anthony had told her about his work +as if it was a sacred obligation, she supposed +it was because he had not had any opportunity +of going to musical comedies for a long time, +and had nothing else to talk about. She +thought he was mad when he explained to her +that if in the future it came to a choice between +having to give up his profession or Pannell, +he would give up Pannell. She hoped +that he would get over it as soon as his overstrung +nerves had become more normal.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony had got steadily more normal, +and he had not got over it. He really wanted +to do his work more than he wanted a good +time. It was, oddly enough, his idea of a +good time. He kept coming back to it when +he ought to have been amusing Kitty. He +actually appeared to think he was amusing her. +It was part of Anthony’s idea of fun. The +rest of his fun was loving her—loving her in +a way that disturbed everything else.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was more anxious to protect her +than to please her, and he was apparently +more anxious still that she should do right. +He never had accepted the convenience of her +recklessness. If he had, he might have been +with her now in this emphatic night stillness, +and then she would have told him everything. +There would have been no barriers. But Anthony +did not know this. It was hidden from +him by his implacable innocence! He did not +know what he might have had, or, if he continued +indefinitely the part he had chosen, +what would happen to him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Kitty knew. She knew that she would +drag him under, and involve his life, so that +the work he loved would be hindered, and his +life caught away from the people and customs +which belonged to him. He would become a +part of the circle of her lawlessness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He could think what he liked, that was the +worst of thought it had so much margin, but +that narrow path experience was against Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty knew that out of certain situations certain +facts arise, they do not happen as you like, +they happen as they must; thought does not +save any man’s steps from the abyss unless he +turns away from it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It seemed to Kitty, as she sat huddled up on +the window-sill, that the gray light over the +fields had changed a little. The shadows were +darker in it, and there was a sense of movement +in the air, as if the earth was coming back +to life. A long way off she heard the call of +a bird.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was only one way to save Anthony: +she could disenchant him, she could do what +he would think despicable. He had fine, stern +principles, but Kitty hadn’t. Her only principle +had been to amuse herself; so that it +would be much easier for her to give up hers +than for Anthony to give up his. Kitty did +not say, “I must not do wrong even to save +Anthony.” She knew she must do wrong if +it <span class='it'>could</span> save him. She was thinking only of +him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The worst of it was that she would have to +be really horrible. She couldn’t put Anthony +off with anything less than the complete disfigurement +of herself. He had accepted too +much already not to be willing to accept more, +unless it was of such a nature as to shake his +whole faith in Kitty’s character. She must do +something which would violate his taste and +make him feel that she was contemptible.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had forgiven badness, partly because he +hadn’t seen it, and partly because there were +excuses which he could put between her and +her acts. He would not forgive her if she +could make him despise her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty hunted in her relentless, clear little +mind for an essential ugliness. There were +things she had done which she hadn’t minded +at the time, but which she now realized would +hurt her to tell Anthony; she had not let herself +think about these incidents before.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She could remember the time when she had +hastened over their accomplishment because +they had jarred some instinct in her, which +had first rebelled and then sunk into acquiescence. +They jarred her mind now to +think about, but she faced each incident steadily +in turn, to see if it was ugly enough to disenchant +Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It must be something she had really done +which he couldn’t get over, something that +would lash his memory and scar it with a cruel +image, and she must attach this image to herself, +so that afterward, when he went away, +he would not crave for her, but be able to say, +“Well, thank God, I saw through her in time!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty put her head down on the scarlet +dressing-gown and shook a little with dry, reluctant +sobs. She did not cry very long or +very hard, because she was afraid of bringing +on the pain; but she felt as if her spirit was +buried in a place of tears. She didn’t want +Anthony to see through her, she did not want +to see through herself. Why was it that after +she had forgotten all about love, and stamped +out the pure and perfect promise of her early +years, love should return and haunt her with +promises as strong as ever, and its attainment +impossible? Could those fugitive, unconnected +acts into which she had flung herself +from excitement, and a desire to use her unexplored, +untempered powers, close against +her forever any fuller life?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Must she always be a “vagrant,” shut outside +those magic walls which hold mothers and +their children, homes, and the rich security of +love?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty lifted her head and looked out once +more into the mysterious life of the night. She +could hear the distant droning of the frogs in +the water meadows, and watch the mists blown +by the strong dawn wind, flitting in strange +shapes across the lawn.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Nature went on her own silent way, clothing +in darkness the deepest processes of life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty could not expect the assistance of a +revelation either from nature or from man. +She had chosen the predatory life of loneliness +in which there is neither sympathy nor companionship, +and where the outcast is pitted +against the solidarity of a hostile world.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She could do what she liked and let Anthony +take the consequences, or she could take the +consequences and do what she didn’t like. +There did not seem to be any other alternative. +Her mind fixed suddenly on a sufficient incident. +There was something she could tell Anthony +which would be certain to send him away. +She hadn’t immediately thought of it because +it had seemed trivial at the time, but it wasn’t +trivial if she looked at it in connection with +Anthony, and she could make it worse than it +was.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She shrank from proclaiming it because it +unfortunately involved somebody else, though +he wasn’t very deeply involved. Kitty could +manage to make him appear almost innocent +in comparison with herself, and, fortunately, +it never mattered that a man should be wholly +innocent.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty gave a wicked chuckle as she saw in a +sudden flash how it would annoy the person involved. +It would be the only amusing point +in the whole affair; and she was perhaps entitled +to that much amusement; for if he was +annoyed, she would be ruined in Anthony’s +eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Still, it really wouldn’t do just to mess Anthony’s +life up for nothing. It would be awfully +dull and horrible sending him away, but +it would be more horrible to smash him up +when he’d been awfully good to her. She +wasn’t going to like doing it, of course; she +hadn’t liked quarreling with him on the river. +She hadn’t been prepared for that particular +quarrel, or she could have finished the whole +thing then. Anthony had taken her by surprise, +and she had been so hurt that her wits +had broken down. She had stopped quarreling +when she ought to have gone on. That was +what happened when you got accidentally hurt—it +did not happen when you meant to hurt +yourself. You could keep your head then.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As the light broadened out over the fields +and ran like silver down the little river, the pain +in Kitty’s arm came on her like a toothache. +It was an extraordinary pain, dull at first and +then as fierce as a blow, and it seemed to hold +Kitty so that she was like some thing shaken +in an iron vise. She could not move, and her +breathing came uncomfortably, as if it were +being forced through a narrow space.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The attack lasted longer than she had ever +known it to last. The sun came out and drank +up all the shadows, and the little shapes of mist +that leaned over the water slipped into the +willows; but the land was no longer real to +Kitty. It looked like some foreign country. +She was being held back by a dreadful iron +grip, so that she could take no part in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The pain dulled down at last, and broken +and white-lipped, she struggled to bed. She +said to herself that she must do something +about the pain soon if it didn’t get any better.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then she fixed her mind on what she had +better do to disenchant Anthony. It was +easier to Kitty to put off the thought of death +than to put off the thought of Anthony.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden was enjoying herself very +much. She was sitting under a large +pink May-tree on the lawn, watching her children.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne was in a lounge-chair half asleep; +Anthony, with Max at his feet, was reading +out loud emphatic modern poetry, which his +mother could not understand; Jim was mending +a fishing-rod; and nobody seemed to be +in anybody else’s way.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The two men were going to play tennis +after tea despite its being Sunday; but this +did not really matter, as Mr. Arden was not +there to object.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After thirty-five years of married life the +moral law had sunk for Mrs. Arden into the +consideration of what would or what would +not upset Mr. Arden. It was an extremely +happy marriage. Her husband was faithful, +tyrannical, and kind, and she gave way to him +on every point except when he interfered, as +he sometimes did from the highest motives, +with the happiness of his children. Mrs. Arden +always asserted that her husband was the +best judge of his children’s happiness, and +spent her entire life in altering his judgments +to suit the children. She had no intellectual +ability, but she knew when children would +rebel.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“When you are older you will understand +your dear father better,” she often told them; +but it had never occurred to her to think that +when Mr. Arden was older he would understand +his children better. She knew he never +would. Mrs. Arden’s happiest hours were +when she knew Mr. Arden was safe doing +something he liked and the children were nowhere +near him. She had never faced any +problem that was not domestic, nor had she +ever met a human being of her own class who +was not respectable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There had been a nervous flurry once over +Tom and a musical-comedy star, but it had +all ended most satisfactorily. The musical-comedy +star had married a lord, and Tom had +gone to India and killed a tiger.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden looked reflectively at Anthony. +He was getting over his imprisonment wonderfully +well. His eyes no longer had that +bright flickering look of an animal endangered, +and he had ceased to keep himself in +hand, as if what he was carrying would break +if he forgot to hold it carefully.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her tranquil eyes turned from their satisfaction +in him to rest upon Daphne.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was the hour of Daphne’s life when she +was of most importance to the universe. Her +husband’s every thought and hope centered in +her, and nature had laid upon Daphne her +greatest task and her supreme reward.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden knew what Daphne felt like. +She remembered her own sensations before +the birth of Tom, her incredible deep content +in the face of all physical inconvenience, +and Mr. Arden’s frightened tenderness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had waited upon her hand and foot, as +Jim waited upon Daphne now; his thoughts +had hung on her wishes. Mr. Arden’s thought +hung on his own wishes now, and he no longer +waited upon his wife. She waited upon him +instead, without, however, making him at all +conspicuous by it. Mr. Arden liked to be +thought a young man and to be treated with +the deference due to an old one.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Mrs. Arden did not look at the relinquished +gifts of life with any self-pity. She +realized that as you grow older, you have less +and suffer more; but on the other hand you +know how to suffer better, and you can enjoy +with a delightful escape from responsibility +the experiences of others.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden approved the arrangement of +Providence by which you had the prizes while +you had the battles, and ceased to have the +battles at the moment when the prizes became +unobtainable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a soft and peaceful afternoon. Anthony +went on reading out loud, with obvious +enjoyment. The startling paradoxes of modern +poets rang harmlessly through the slumbering, +flower-scented air. It was as if nothing +very dreadful had ever happened.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden sighed softly, because she never +for an instant forgot Tom. When she repeated +in the creed that she believed in the +resurrection of the dead, she saw Tom in white +flannels with his hat pulled forward over his +eyes, precisely as she saw Anthony now, except +that Tom’s shoulders were broader, and +he was usually doing something useful with +his hands.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The garden gate clicked, and an extraordinary +vision appeared upon the lawn. It was +Kitty, accompanied by Mr. Costrelle. Kitty +wore the pink Malmaison dress, with pale-pink +stockings and remarkably smart black suède +shoes. She balanced a rose-pink parasol to +perfection.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle trailed indolently beside her, +long, lean, white-faced, without expression except +for his pale eyes, which had a sharpened, +appraising look, as if he were on the look-out +for a new possession, but had no intention of +being taken in by it. They approached the +group under the pink May-tree with friendliness, +but they belonged to a hostile tribe.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty moved swiftly across the lawn, kissed +Daphne, who was half asleep and taken unawares, +perfunctorily; noticed Jim and Anthony +with a little lift of an eyebrow more +perfunctory still, and turned her undivided attention +upon Mrs. Arden.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m Kitty Costrelle,” she announced, “and +I know you’re Daphne’s mother. I’ve +wanted to meet you for ages.” She sank into +a chair by Mrs. Arden’s side and turned her +shoulder upon the rest of the group.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden had a flurried sense that both +her son-in-law and Anthony wanted, for some +unknown reason, to intervene, but they didn’t +know how; and Daphne, who did know how, +found herself fully occupied by the fixed attention +of Mr. Costrelle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden was not accustomed to the forward +notice of very smart-looking girls without +shyness, who ignore the polite and cautious +responses of the provincial well bred.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jim and Anthony still made baffled efforts +to enter into their conversation, but Kitty relentlessly +forced them out. Her vivid eyes, +her expressive gestures, were only for Mrs. +Arden.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden was confused by these advances, +but beneath her confusion she was oddly aware +of a feeling of compassion. She was shy and +inconspicuous and old, and quite incapable of +facile friendliness; but she felt as if this brilliant, +effective girl was somehow at a disadvantage.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty wasn’t as sure of herself as she pretended +to be; she wasn’t as sure of any one or +anything as Mrs. Arden had all her life taken +for granted that people naturally were. Mrs. +Arden had an ineffaceable background, and +Kitty had no background at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty, with all her air of easy conquests and +perfect assurance, fluttered there before them +all, like a bird in a high wind, perched upon a +swinging bough.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She talked very sensibly to Mrs. Arden +about the country and the growth of flowers; +she referred sympathetically to Daphne, and +asked Mrs. Arden if she didn’t find her son +wonderfully better. She seemed to have very +accurate information about the Ardens, and +Pannell slipped in and out of her sentences +as if it had been a part of her own career; but +Mrs. Arden in return could not remember that +Daphne had told her anything at all about +Kitty Costrelle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was reassuring, however, to discover, since +Anthony must have seen a good deal of her, +that Kitty wasn’t an actress. Mrs. Arden +knew Anthony’s temperament well, and she +was aware that you could not have put an actress +out of his head by the insertion of a tiger.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was still talking to her with the same +flattering intimacy when Anthony returned +from an abortive set of tennis with Jim.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you are interested in roses,” Mrs. Arden +said to Kitty as Anthony joined them, “you +must come and see my little rose garden at +Pannell. Mustn’t she, dear?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s and Kitty’s eyes met like flint.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think we’ve got very much to show +her,” said Anthony, quietly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll come with all the pleasure in the +world,” said Kitty, rising to her feet. She +looked past Anthony; the brightness of her +eyes deepened suddenly. She had done what +she could with Mrs. Arden more or less successfully, +but all the power she had was in her +eyes as she looked past Anthony toward Jim +Wynne.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jim,” she said softly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne looked up from her fencing with +Mr. Costrelle. Her eyes darkened suddenly; +her words stumbled and broke off as if a wind +had dispersed them. Kitty’s slow smile deepened.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Jim,” she repeated, “I want one of those +nectarines of yours, the jolly warm ones you +grow in your houses. D’you remember you +used to call them the apples of the Hesperides?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Did I?” mumbled Jim. “The deuce of a +silly name for them!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought it a very pretty name,” said +Kitty. “Of course I didn’t know what it +meant, but it sounded such an awfully nice +place to get apples from.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She slipped her hand familiarly on Jim’s +arm, and without a word he turned and followed +her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Daphne gathered up her sentence again, but +the peace of the summer afternoon was gone. +Only Mrs. Arden did not know what had happened. +It seemed to her much safer to see +Kitty walk off with Jim than if she had carried +away Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s a very attractive girl, dear,” she +said to her son, “but what a curious thing none +of you has ever happened to mention her to +me before! I think, if I were you, I should +go into the house and get a little shawl for +Daphne. She shivered just now as if she had +caught cold.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy was a good host, and he waited patiently +while Kitty examined the nectarines. +There was not much to choose between +the solid pink and yellow globes hanging on +the south wall of the greenhouse. The sun had +burned its own color into them; the air was +warm and full of the heavy scent of flowers and +ferns producing artificially their precocious, +unseasonable life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty took a long time choosing her nectarine. +She was not quite sure what line to +take with Jimmy. He had the peculiar shutdown +look of a man whose nerves are being +subjected to strain, and who has made up his +mind to keep all possible approaches to them +closed. He was not thinking of his greenhouse, +and he wanted to get back to his wife.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty chose her fruit at last, and strolled +in silence out into the kitchen garden. There +was a seat opposite a bed of pansies, on which +she sat down. The bright upturned faces of +the pansies stared at the sun; bees pushed their +slow way above them to a cloud of feathery +larkspur. In the elms beyond the paddock the +rooks were cawing their wrangling pathway +home to bed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty took out a cigarette and looked up +thoughtfully at Jimmy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s rather nice for men,” she observed, +“being able to be rude comfortably. We +can’t, you know; we have to put ourselves out +and make conversation and hold on to the appearance +of things. I don’t know why, but +we do. If you were in my garden now, I +should have to look pleasant and find you a +match. This dress has no pockets.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy handed her his box, reluctantly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” he said, looking over her +head. “I think I’m quite polite enough; I +brought you here.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I’m awfully grateful for that,” +agreed Kitty, “though I’m not at all sure +whether you could help it. Your mother-in-law +would have been so surprised if you’d +said: ‘Hanged if I give you a nectarine! Go +home, and be damned to you!’ By the by, are +you afraid I’m going to make love to you, +Jimmy? You look rather like one of those +old Johnnies who thought they ought to resist +visions and started to put the visions off +by making themselves look as disagreeable as +possible. I never thought it was a good plan, +really; it must have put the visions on their +mettle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t care whether you try or not,” said +Jimmy, untruthfully. “It doesn’t make the +least odds to me what you think you’re doing.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed a little under her breath.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d sound safer if you weren’t so sure,” +she murmured. “However, if it’s any comfort +to you, I’m <span class='it'>not</span> going to make love to +you. It would take such a long time and be +such an effort, and might not be worth it even +if I succeeded. I’m going to make you furious +instead. You are cross already, so it won’t +be so much trouble. What do you say to my +marrying Tony? I’ve got a fancy for Pannell.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy tried to look as if he didn’t believe +her; but his eyes ceased to measure the new +asparagus bed, and came back hurriedly to +Kitty’s upturned face.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked as blandly innocent as the pansies +at her feet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said consideringly, “that would +make me a kind of roundabout sister-in-law +to you, wouldn’t it? How would you like +that?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I shouldn’t like it at all,” said Jimmy, +coldly; “but I’m not sure even <span class='it'>that</span> would be +sufficient inducement to you to do it. Why +do you want Pannell, which you wouldn’t get +in any case for many years? You aren’t +usually so mercenary.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nobody’s mercenary when they have +enough money,” said Kitty, “but all really +careful people lay up a pear for their thirst. +Pannell’s a nice fat pear, and at present I’m +intolerably short and by and by I shall probably +be thirsty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d rather give you two or three hundred,” +said Jimmy after a pause.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thanks,” said Kitty, puffing at her cigarette +and watching his face with obvious enjoyment. +“But I don’t want a tip. I’d like +something solid in the funds, and I wouldn’t +even mind a husband. This kind of thing you +know—” she waved her cigarette in the direction +of the low-browed house and the distant +lawn—“rather brings up the subject of +family life in an attractive light. All husbands +aren’t cross, and it isn’t always Sunday.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You can’t marry Anthony,” said Jimmy, +doggedly. “If he knew what I know about +you, he wouldn’t do it, you see.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But he doesn’t, you see,” mocked Kitty, +with a malicious little laugh.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you were to insist on marrying him,” +said Jimmy, quietly, “I should have to tell +him.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty blinked and screwed her wicked eyelashes +together.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re a brave man, Jimmy,” she said, +“but I shouldn’t advise it. If you dot Tony’s +i’s for him, I shall dot Daphne’s, and it isn’t +the moment I’d choose for Daphne’s.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy had been expecting this thrust. He +took it outwardly coolly, but inwardly he had +only one conscious feeling—a desire to kill +Kitty at once and with his hands. He kept +quite still; the murmuring low voices of the +bees and the far-off, distracted cawings of the +rooks were the only sounds in the world.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty read murder in his eyes and enjoyed +the sensation. If there was a moment in Kitty’s +life that she really prized above all others +it was the instant when, sailing close up to +the wind, she ran a perceptible chance of being +capsized by it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She had this moment now, it passed as suddenly +as she faced it. Jim drew a long breath, +and put his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You could do that, of course,” he said carefully, +“if you were cad enough.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Any one who tells is a cad,” said Kitty, +calmly, “and we should both of us have beautiful +motives. At least yours would be beautiful, +and mine would be reasonable; it is always +reasonable to pay back a hit if one can. +Still, I grant it would be better not to begin. +You see, they both know a certain amount already, +and it wouldn’t be particularly reassuring +to know more.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Rather than let Tony marry you, I’d tell +them both—everything,” said Jimmy, sternly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed out suddenly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here is Tony,” she said, rising to her feet. +“I only wanted you to wait here with me +till he came after us. I don’t intend to marry +him. As you wouldn’t flirt, I had to think +of something to amuse you to fill up the +time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hullo, Tony. Jimmy and I have been +having such an awfully funny talk—what they +call in the newspapers ‘a grave moral issue.’ +You’ll be glad to hear Jimmy chose the truth—the +whole truth and nothing but the truth, +in spite of the most fearful penalties attached +to it. Only, as I was pulling his leg all the +time, there won’t be any penalties. You can +get off scot-free with your virtue, Jimmy.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy said something under his breath and +turned to escape, but Kitty checked him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, you don’t,” she said. “I’m going to +make you feel perfectly comfortable first by +way of reward. Tony, he’s afraid you’ll +marry me, but you won’t, will you, when you +know he’s been one of my lovers? I told you +once I tried to turn his head, but I didn’t tell +you I <span class='it'>had</span> turned it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy’s self-control left him. He swore +savagely at Kitty, and at the name he called +her by Anthony sprang forward and struck +him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy struck back, and for a minute or +two Kitty watched them with interested approval. +She had seen men fight for her before +and she had never interfered. Then she +saw that Anthony was getting the worst of +it. Jimmy was stronger and heavier, and he +was, if anything, the angrier; the weight of +the anger he felt for Kitty got behind his +mounting rage with Anthony. He might have +forgiven Anthony’s blow if it had been the +only one.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty deliberately shut down the rose-pink +parasol and drove it between the combatants. +They started back for an instant, and in that +instant she had slipped between them, the +broken sunshade in her hands.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go to Daphne, Jim,” she said over her +shoulder. “She may come along here at any +moment and see you. You don’t want to upset +her; leave Tony to me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Jimmy obeyed her without looking at her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better sit down,” Kitty said to Anthony. +Her eyes softened for a moment as +they rested on him. “You shouldn’t fight +when you’re so out of condition,” she added.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shook his head vehemently.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is what you said true?” he demanded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Kitty, “it was true. That’s +what annoys Jim so. Men are so silly! +What’s the use of being annoyed over ancient +history? Besides, he’s perfectly safe now; +Daphne’ll look after him. Why don’t you +sit down?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I’m silly, too,” said Anthony +stiffly. “If what you said is true, I can’t stand +it either, Kitty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty nodded; she had not meant Anthony +to stand it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” she said; “I told you before +that it was better you should go away. Thank +you for trying to knock Jimmy down.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony hesitated a moment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Why did you tell me?” he asked her at +last. “You needn’t have told me; I would +never have guessed it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” said Kitty; “I suppose I +got bored and wanted to stir things up. +Everybody looks so comfortable here, all +primed with tea and the ten commandments. +I just wanted to show that they aren’t as solid +as they look. Besides, Jim is really rather +trying just now; he thinks being happy is a +virtue which he’s hit on for himself. I can’t +stand people who are righteous about their +luck.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t got that virtue,” said Anthony +in a low, unsteady voice, “and it’s me you’ve +really hit, Kitty. Jimmy won’t care.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’re just as bad,” she said without +looking at him; “you belong to the same lot, +you’re one of the solid people. Nothing can +really get hold of you and break you up.” +Her voice caught for a moment. “I wish +you’d go away. I hate the lot of you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony took a step toward her. For a +moment he thought of her and not of the pain +she was causing him. It seemed to him as if +Kitty was, absurdly enough, the victim and +not the destroyer; but there was no yielding in +Kitty to respond to his instinct. Her chin +was up, and her eyes, as hard as pebbles, met +his unflinchingly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you <span class='it'>see</span>,” she said fiercely, “that I’m +simply <span class='it'>bored</span> by you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And Anthony, struck to the heart, believed +that she was simply bored, and left her.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s hardly won control snapped +like a broken twig; he turned from +Kitty, and walked quickly out into the road. +His mind was held in the suspension of +shock. He neither knew where he was going +nor considered what he meant to do. He +stumbled as he walked with his head bowed and +pushed forward as if he were tied to something +he could not get rid of.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a desperate urgency in his broken +mind, like the urgency of high fever; he knew +there was something he mustn’t think about, +some dreadful image just beyond his conscious +will which was prepared to leap into his mind. +Fear ran at his heels. It had neither face nor +name, but it pursued him like a shadow along +the hot, white road.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Motors overtook and passed him, people +watched him from their garden gates, and +wondered at his crouched, absorbed figure +hurrying past them. He never turned his +head through the small, chattering villages or +on the open road. Max followed him, foot-sore +and perplexed, but one-indeaed as Ruth. +He knew that there was something strangely +wrong with his master, and he was determined +that whatever was wrong or strange, he would +share it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had lost his self-consciousness; he +ceased to be aware of his own significance. +Self-control and the governance of his mind +dropped away from him like unheeded, unessential +things. He was a human being +hounded by an obscure emotion that he dared +not face. Anthony ran from it, but he was +conscious as he ran that he could not escape it. +There would be a moment when exhaustion +would catch him and force him to give battle, +and there was nothing left in him to fight with. +His heart was as empty as his mind.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were passing the entrance to a small +orchard that lay fronting an old farm-house +when Max felt that they had gone far enough. +He whined suddenly and ran in front of Anthony, +lifting a dusty paw, and fixing his burning +topaz eyes on Anthony’s face. He would +go on if Anthony went on, but he had made +his protest. Anthony paused uncertainly, +looking about him at the unfamiliar road, the +distant red-brick farm, and the space of white +blooms vivid against the evening light. He +turned stumblingly, and sank on the bank under +the apple-blossoms. Max crept beside +him, pushing his head against his master’s +chest.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Dogs have only one way of showing sympathy +with human beings; they offer themselves +up upon the altar of their master’s pain. Max +pushed himself relentlessly into Anthony’s suffering; +he would not stay outside and be safe. +He would be a part of Anthony’s pain till the +pain stopped. Anthony felt the warmth reach +his heart and was a little comforted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A late lark was still singing above the +orchard trees, very high and shrill in the clear +evening air; the sun lay like a sea of fire across +the fields; every separate grass in the hedge +stood up alive in it.</p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'> +<img src='images/ill004.jpg' alt='Man sits in anguish with pet dog' id='img04' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/> +<p class='caption'><span class='it'>There was no curtain left between Anthony and his pain.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no curtain left between Anthony +and his pain. He saw its face and eyes, and +they were the face and eyes of Kitty. She +had done an incredible thing incredibly, like +some fifth-rate girl in a café. It was not only +cruel; it was vulgar. She had said words that +drew blood. They disfigured Anthony’s love +for her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He might have stood the fact, but not Kitty’s +throwing it between the two men to force +on a fight; and for what other reason had she +thrown it? She was bored and light, and, like +a bad little tune, her words ran on in his mind +and tortured him. They did not set him free—spiritually +Kitty was dead to him; but Kitty +dead was Kitty accessible—the image of her +pulled him back like a strong cable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If this was what she was, why could he not +take advantage of it, satisfy the hard hunger +that possessed him, and grant himself at least +the release of his strained senses?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He told himself this was what love was +worth. It was the master miracle and cheat +of life. Anthony had been let out of prison +and confronted with ecstasy, and ecstasy was +a trap. He buried his face in his hands and +shut out the lark’s song and the intolerable +world.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If he went back, he had nothing to lose. +Kitty had destroyed the spiritual part of love. +The man who did not take the actual and make +the best of it was a fool.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was better to be like an ordinary man, and +pigeon-hole women: one kind—Miss Mellicot, +for instance—you marry and respect, and the +other you go wild over and spiritually ignore. +Anthony had never believed this method fair +to women. He had not liked to think that +any human being should be treated without +respect to his humanity; but perhaps the judgment +of the normal world was sound, and there +were people—people like Kitty—too light to +touch even the honor in others. One did not let +them down by treating them at their own valuation +because they were too low to be let down.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But one ought to be very sure of this condition. +A memory stirred in Anthony of how +he had thought the same once of his fellow +prisoners: he had condemned them root and +branch as fellows who had thrown away their +codes and were therefore worthless.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Afterwards his condemnation had worn thin, +he had found so many excuses, the black clouds +of their follies and their failures had been +stripped away like mists, and he had seen +through the mists the havoc and struggle of +their souls, for even below their code something +had struggled in them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not sure of Kitty. He +thought of her skimming life like a summer +gnat above a pool, a light thing in the light +air of her life, without balance or stability; +but he could not be certain that she, too, had +had no struggle. She had worked and suffered. +For two years she had helped to stem +the tide of suffering in France when France +was the cockpit of the world, and she had +shirked nothing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She did not shirk anything now, Anthony +did not deny her pluck, and once he had seen +her cry. The memory of Kitty’s tears was +a strange comfort to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Love rose slowly in his heart and shook him; +it would not let him be driven back cheaply to +a worthless Kitty, it would not let Kitty be +worthless. Love held him to her courage and +her tears; it even involved him in her disasters +and suggested that if he had been wiser, kinder, +less full of the sense of what was due to the +rules of his life—he might have served her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Love did not seem to wish for a freed Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His mind caught against a new point. +Whatever Kitty was like, he needn’t make her +worse, he needn’t add humiliation to her. +And it would be a new humiliation if he went +back to take her on her own terms; for she +would know that in doing so he despised her. +She would let him despise her because she +would think it was only fair, but she would not +like it, and because she would not like it, he +must not do it. He must let her at least feel +that the man who had respected her still respected +her enough to leave her alone. He +tried to hold himself to this decision, but it +took the taste out of his life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He did not know now what to do. He realized +that his body was exhausted and wanted +food, but he had no wish to fight this exhaustion. +He would have liked to crawl farther +into the hedge and become invisible and part of +the earth. Max stirring in his arms roused +him to his feet. He pushed on heavily, with +his face towards London.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The apple-blossoms were spectral in the evening +light; the sun fell behind a group of flaming +elms; for a long time the sky held a delicate +mauve color, fading into darkness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The endless houses of the suburbs began; +they streamed past him with long gaps of ugly, +empty fields and half-built roads. He noticed +nothing but a sense of closing in and +the merciful quieting of night. He did not +hurry any more.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Pain had got up to him now and was no +longer pursuing him, and pain had a familiar +face, there was no surprise in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Beauty and joy had been the surprise and +fear was the race to escape losing them. Anthony +had been overtaken and the race had +gone against him; but there was still pain and +the mastery of pain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had been near enough to happiness +to divine that there is no such personal +success as the success of joy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He realized that joy is the chief principle +of life, and that without it the Kingdom of +Heaven must be entered maimed. Anthony +ignored the Kingdom of Heaven because he +could not see it; but he could see, in flashes, +that he was maimed; and unconsciously he +felt that the Kingdom of Heaven was anything +that lay beyond the fact of his maiming.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony tried to think about his work, but +his mind beat relentlessly against the thought +of Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His life had no value to himself without +joy, but he could still serve the community. +If the world was hard, it was the more important +for those who had tasted the quality +of hardness to set themselves towards discovering +possible alleviations for others.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The success of the personal life was not the +boundary of the human spirit.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Happiness serves life unconsciously and has +chosen the better part, but pain is the Martha +who must busy herself about many things. +Anthony was like a drowning man clinging to +a straw. He did not know that he was drowning, +but the thought of helping the world +against pain was the straw to which he clung.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As the persistent streets closed in upon Anthony +a strange feeling of exhilaration stole +across his senses. He had a lift of the mind, +and was possessed by that false sense of +strength which comes on the verge of complete +exhaustion.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He told himself that, after all, happiness +was the only risk, and that he had survived it.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>It was long past midnight, and London was +as still as a mountain pass. The lights +rose up hard and straight out of the empty +streets; the vast, dim spaces of the squares +retreated from them as if they were the points +of weapons. Every now and then a furtive +loiterer passed Anthony, a creature as shadowy +and unsubstantial as a dream. Sleepy and +stolid policemen stood phlegmatically under +occasional lamp posts, with their backs turned +away from the mysterious secrecy of the dark. +The tall houses were overpoweringly still, +blank citadels of ease and security which +forced a sense of outlawry upon the passer-by.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt the sharp stir in him of +a grudge against prosperity. It suddenly +seemed to him as if law and order held too +many cards. All humanity is at the mercy of +certain casual blows, but how vast is the difference +between the people who can afford to +place in front of themselves the comfortable +buffers of prosperity and those bleak wanderers +whom the blast strikes full without any +protection!</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had learned as few men in his position +had learned the grim habit of privation; +he knew the difference between those who command +conveniences and those who are commanded +by inconvenience. He had been without +comfort, he had forfeited privacy, and become +inured to rest without ease. He knew +that privations undermine you and unfit you +for higher pleasures, and that the little jar and +spite of painful living prevent in you the release +of thought. He knew also that behind +privation stands tyranny, the blind possessor +who strikes against courage and freedom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony held no theories about rich and +poor, but his prison experience had taught him +that those without choice are captives.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If you cannot change a job, or correct a misfit, +or gain a right without the risk of an appeal +which may push you into an abyss, you +are a captive.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Only men with margins can afford the courage +of their convictions, and unfortunately +margins, while they produce courage, change +convictions. He remembered only by chance, +because for the moment he had no money and +could not get a meal for Max, what it had +been like to be without a margin.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He remembered good Germans who were +kind to prisoners. Their kindnesses were not +worse than their brutalities, because nothing +is worse than brutality; but they were harder +to bear.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt again the fierce shudder with +which he used to meet their victorious, satisfied +eyes. He had found it harder than the +others to bear benevolence. Their captors +had looked at the prisoners and pointed out +what was good for them; sometimes it was good +for them, but the prisoners had no choice. +There is often a great deal to be said for the +safety of walls, but the weak go to them not +because they like them, but because the strong +push them there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The big, fine houses of the West End looked +down on Anthony contemplatively; they +seemed to be pointing out to him the rights of +their solidity. Anthony changed Max from +one arm to the other; he was near Henry’s +flat. It was a pity to disturb Henry, but Max +was plainly exhausted. He lay like a springless +log in Anthony’s arms, and now and then +whimpered to express his sense of the unseemliness +of perpetual tramping through the +night.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew that he could find Henry’s +flat—his mind had a bewildered sense of the +loss of other alternatives. He could not think +of anywhere else to go. But Henry’s flat +stood out with a vivid, startling clearness because +he had come back to it out of prison—he +knew that he could find it in the dark.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not conscious of his own +fatigue. He had walked twenty-five miles between +five o’clock in the afternoon and two +o’clock in the morning, but his mind was fresh +and his thoughts ran through it as fast as a +stream runs with the leap of a waterfall behind +it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Some of his thought ran backwards as the +eddies of a stream run backwards on to themselves.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry’s flat was behind Buckingham Gate. +He could see a microscopic view of the Green +Park from it and the open drilling space of +the Guards.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>These were shadowed spaces now full of a +held darkness. Henry had come in late from +an evening’s successful bridge, and he was +preparing himself for sleep by reading a +pleasant, well-written story. He liked to subside +gradually from excitement to repose.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The maids always went to bed regularly at +eleven. Henry listened with incredulity to the +sharp tang of the bell. He opened the door +and gazed with polite annoyance at the dusty +figure of his brother.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Really, Anthony,” he exclaimed, “what an +extraordinary hour to call—in flannels, too! +And what have you in your arms? That +Aberdeen?” Henry invariably thought of +dogs according to their species. “You know I +<span class='it'>never</span> like dogs in my flat.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He has got to have a light meal and a +drink,” explained Anthony. “I’ve walked +him unmercifully—in fact, I’ve walked him +from Rochett.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry said no more. He prided himself +upon the way in which his mind rose to face an +emergency, especially by the manner in which, +if possible, he evaded finding out what the +emergency was until it was forced upon him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He led Anthony into the dining-room, and +said in a hushed voice:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Above everything, we must not disturb the +maids—that is the first thing to be considered. +I hardly know what there is to eat in the +house.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, look in the larder,” said Anthony, a +trifle bluntly. “I suppose you know where +your larder is? I do. I had a flat like this +once. It ought to be on the north side of the +kitchen. I don’t want anything to eat myself; +I want only scraps for the dog, and +something to drink. Don’t give him too much +at once.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It is not easy to disinter food in the middle +of the night,” objected Henry, “even if +I can find the larder. However, I’ll do what +I can. Why did you walk so far—in flannels? +Has anything happened to any one?” Henry +meant, “Is any one dead?” but he never spoke +of the dead except collectively.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony said that every one was perfectly +all right, and Henry left him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony sank into a big arm-chair, and +Max fell asleep instantly at his feet on a +soft lambswool rug. The room was full of +light. It was just what all the other big, +inaccessible houses were like, so cruel outside, +so full of comfort and hospitality within. +Anthony wondered what it would look like +smashed? Even this room, if you got up and +broke everything in it, might look uncomfortable. +Anthony’s eyes took in all the breakable +things. He wasn’t going to touch anything, +of course; but he had an odd, excited desire +in his mind to see the room in fragments, +broken down, and utterly in pieces, like some +men’s lives, so that, no matter what you did, +you could not put them together again. It +did not seem quite fair to Anthony that outside +things should remain safe and whole.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry came back on tiptoe with a plate of +scraps for Max and a tin dish full of water. +Max woke instantly, thanked Anthony for the +food with a wag of his short, bushy tail, and +ungratefully ignored Henry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry was a little surprised and annoyed +with Anthony for drinking only milk. He objected +to his brother’s abstemiousness because, +as he knew, it did not come from principle. +Henry felt that the only reason for being moral +was morality, and Anthony had no grasp +whatever of morality.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry had received disquieting accounts recently +of Anthony’s behavior from a friend who +lived at Rochett. He had written discreetly +to Daphne, asking for details; but Daphne, although +she was a married woman and could +have replied with sufficient directness quite +nicely, had not replied at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry took a chair opposite Anthony and +regarded him with tactful vigilance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I rather wonder,” he said guardedly, “what +made you walk twenty-five miles on Sunday +night when you could have got up by the eight-thirty +this morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I might have asked for a lift,” Anthony +said consideringly, “earlier in the night, perhaps, +if I’d had any money; but I forgot to +put change in my pockets when I put on my +tennis things, and then I started to walk. +Have you ever been without money, Henry?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve sometimes run it very fine,” Henry +observed thoughtfully, “after a race meeting, +and of course during the war I was perpetually +short.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Short of everything?” Anthony strangely +persisted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hardly, my dear fellow,” said Henry, with +an indulgent smile, “or I shouldn’t be here +now, should I? Everything is a tall order.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s what I keep wondering,” said Anthony +in a low, uncertain voice. “If one is +short of everything, even hopes, what does one +do? These circumstances occur, you know, +Henry. Have you ever thought what you +would do if everything failed, and there was +no ground left to fight on?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry shook his head reassuringly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Those circumstances aren’t likely to come,” +he answered. “Of course I know what you +mean. Men have bad times. I had an extremely +unpleasant one myself when you fellows +went to France; it was no fun being kept +out of it, and people discussing why one didn’t +go. I had hours of extreme depression, but +I pulled myself together and got over it. Depend +upon it, my dear fellow, making the best +of things is a question of grit.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes,” said Anthony, impatiently; +“but you must have the things to make the +best of. What I mean is, what happens when +you reach the point where nothing is savable?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been thinking as I came along about +the down-and-outers, men who are moneyless, +without health, or without control, I don’t +much mind which—the people who have gone +under. Death is so simple! You just go out; +but what happens when life goes on and everything +else stops?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean when you have no income?” +inquired Henry, anxiously. “Has anything +happened to Pannell?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nothing,” said Anthony, “nothing at +all, has happened to anything. I wasn’t +thinking of us.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He leaned forward, and Henry noticed with +uneasiness that Anthony’s eyes moved and +shone unceasingly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Henry, I wish you’d tell me honestly—what +do you believe?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry turned his eyes instantly on the +carpet. He saw in a flash what had happened. +Poor old Anthony had religious mania. That +was why he drank milk instead of whisky, +walked twenty-five miles on Sunday night, and +wouldn’t carry money about with him. This +was what came of never going to church: the +pendulum—or was it the boomerang?—swung +back, and Anthony had been hit by it. +Henry’s mind acted with promptitude and decision. +He would soothe Anthony and, as +soon as he could, make an excuse to leave the +room, and telephone for a doctor. Fortunately, +Hilton Laurence, one of Anthony’s +best friends, lived quite near. He had a disagreeable, +curt manner, but he could probably +give Anthony a sleeping-draft and not +mention it to any one else. Henry cleared +his throat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I am sure, my dear fellow,” he said with +feeling, “that there is behind the world a +creative and guiding power making for righteousness.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was no sound in the room except +Max’s snoring. Anthony kept so still that +he might have been made of stone. He seemed +to be holding himself down in his chair with +both his hands. Henry gathered confidence +from Anthony’s fixed quiet.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t,” he continued gravely, “often +probe into these questions—it seems to me +wiser for us to take things on trust—but I am +confident from my own experience—and I am +sure, if you think it over, you will be from +yours—that we are guided and provided for +all our lives.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Was Belgium guided and provided for,” +asked Anthony, suddenly, “or children maimed +in air raids, or outraged women? If you’d +seen some of the people I’ve seen in hospital, +my dear fellow, you’d back down on a kindly +Providence. We’ve got to look at things differently, +and not rake up old mufflers out of +the easier ages. What I want to know is, +have you ever thought about it? Do comfortable +people think?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not really care what Henry +thought; he knew that Henry took his ideas +ready-made from leading articles out of conservative +papers, the opinions of other well-to-do +people, and his momentary personal convenience. +Anthony doubted if Henry had +ever had a naked thought except once when he +was nearly choked by a quinsy; but he wanted +to rouse Henry and also to talk himself. +Thoughts ran through his brain as fresh and +fast as the swirl of water; he wanted to see +them take form and come out into the quiet +room; he wanted to convince Henry of tragedy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What about other people?” he repeated. +“You know the Serbians have had all their +manhood rotted by typhoid and blotted out by +guns? You know that men have been frightened +out of their wits, and it takes an awful +lot to frighten men out of their wits, and all +the broken-hearted old people with nothing left +to love till death takes them. Do you believe +they were created for their good, robbed for +their good by righteousness? And yet if there +is no righteousness, one wonders why one +minds. Why do we think about it at all, +but not go on our own greedy way snatching at +anything we like regardless of the sufferings +of others? Horses don’t care about other +horses. They would face any shelled place, +the trained ones—wonderful beggars!—without +turning a hair—they’d see other horses +struck in front of them, done in before their +eyes, and never budge: but let a piece of shell +scratch their flanks, and you couldn’t get them +near the lines again, no good at all after a +personal hit. Men aren’t like that. We +mind other people’s hits; some of us try to stop +them at a risk to ourselves. That’s what I +can’t make out, this something in us. Is hitting +what we need to put us on to it? Are we +meant to keep down the guns as well as to +suffer by them? And is God just the same +only on a larger scale, more hit, more determined +to stop what’s hitting us? The story +of Calvary, for instance. Is it a kind of queer, +double-edged truth to show us that we and +God with us are caught in a trap of pain, and +must voluntarily stick it out, even when we +could escape, to help the rest from going under?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There is the love of God, of course,” said +Henry, with one eye on the door. “I quite +appreciate that point.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, we’ve got to care,” Anthony agreed +slowly; “that’s what I never used to see. If +you don’t care, you can’t help. You’re not a +safe person even, except, of course, to yourself. +We’ve got to care enough to be broken to +pieces; because that’s what it comes to; you +can’t help people unless you’re being broken +with them, you’re too far away.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Self-control—” said Henry, going toward +the fireplace and looking down into it as if he +had lost something. “A religion without self-control, +you know, wouldn’t <span class='it'>do</span>. That is the +value of form in Christianity.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’ve tried that,” replied Anthony, impatiently. +“Christianity which distinctly said +‘the letter killeth’ is too hard for us; so we set +up churches and got out of it. We put the +gold into the fire because it was so difficult to +obey a spiritual God, and there came out a +calf, an awfully clever golden calf, very convenient +to worship, made up of all the ornaments +of the people. But what ought to have +gone into the fire was <span class='it'>us</span>! God went into +it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry shuddered. He disliked blasphemy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you’ll excuse me a minute,” he said, +“I’ll just see if the spare room is ready. You +must want to go to bed. I’ll be back directly.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry came back humming cheerfully in +the manner of those visitors to the sick who +wish to encourage the sufferer by the sight of +their own immunity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry had remembered everything; he had +told Hilton Laurence, who sounded extremely +snappy at the other end of the telephone, to +bring a sleeping-draft.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was sitting with his eyes shut. He +did not speak until the electric bell sounded; +then he opened them with curious celerity and +remarked:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s probably the doctor you sent for +just now. It’s too early for the milk.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry jumped. He remembered the extreme +cunning of madmen, and hurried to the +door.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was Hilton Laurence, and he said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, where is he?” as if he didn’t want to +hear Henry’s explanations. However, he had +to hear them while he was taking off his coat. +Henry explained in a hushed voice Anthony’s +condition and his own inspired tact. The last +time he had left the room he had taken away +the poker.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence showed no tact at all; he +walked into the dining-room noisily, shook +hands with Anthony, and said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hullo, old chap! What’s the matter with +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony began to laugh. He laughed so +hard that both the other men standing one on +each side of him appeared preternaturally +grave, and the graver they became the more +wildly Anthony laughed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence looked at Anthony from +under heavy questioning eyebrows and then +looked away again, but he did nothing to stop +him laughing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After awhile Anthony stopped himself with +a jerk.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve just discovered Henry thinks I’m +mad,” he explained to Hilton Laurence. +“The funny part of it is, I’m not sure whether +I am or not.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence sat down on Henry’s chair +and said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better go to bed, Mr. Arden, and +leave your brother to me. He’ll be all right. +Let him sleep on in the morning.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The door on the left is his room,” Henry +explained carefully; “mine is on the right, if +you should want me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence nodded. When the two +men were alone neither of them spoke for a +few moments, then Laurence said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s up with you, old chap?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And Anthony, meeting his eyes, said +quietly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I have been riding for a fall, and I’ve got +it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Some woman?” asked Laurence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony nodded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Laurence said softly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Damn women!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shook his head quickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” he said, “that hasn’t answered. It’s +been tried already, you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence took out a small bottle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Here’s a sleeping-draft,” he explained. +“It’ll put her out of your head for twenty-four +hours; then you’d better come and see +me. I’ve got a good hospital under my care—brain +and spine cases, result of wounds—and +I want another man to help me. How +rusty have you got?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The Germans let me look after our men +and study some of their own methods in hospital,” +Anthony explained. “I’ve helped at +some good operations and I read a lot. I don’t +think I did much less work than if I’d been +here; I’ll have to get used to the conditions, +that’s all.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Good,” said Hilton Laurence. “I dare +say you can give me some tips. I have some +very obscure cases.” He got up and glanced +at Anthony again. “Well,” he observed, +“that’s all there is for you, you know—work.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know,” Anthony agreed; “thanks awfully. +I dare say I can work under you. +I couldn’t think how I should manage to get +back into things. I had what the Quakers +call ‘a stop in my mind,’ quite literally a stop, +Hilton, and when you arrive at a stop you find +a quantity of strange impulses ready to get +hold of you—vultures of the mind hovering +about on the off chance of a carcass, and there +doesn’t seem anything handy to keep them +off. I was quite near going mad.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence nodded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Take a good long rest in bed,” he said, +“and you’ll find your mind’s all right. But +you must keep away from the sore spot. +That’s what work’s for; work and—well, for +some of us, you know, other women.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shook his head. “I know,” he said. +“I’ve thought of that, too, but it won’t do. +There are no other women for me. I’ve never +cared about women like that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you’re romantic,” said Hilton Laurence, +going to the door. “I can’t cure romance.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Nothing could have been less like +Rochett than Number 27 Palace Court. +It was one of thirty large, red, solid houses +overlooking one another. It was sufficiently +far from a main thoroughfare not to be noisy, +and sufficiently near never to taste, except in +the small hours of the morning, undiluted silence. +It was a broad cul-de-sac of a street, +neither green nor untidy, upon which the sun +struck without the tenderness of shadows. In +the summer it was full of hard, clear light, and +in the winter it seemed particularly open to +gloom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The house looked as if every thought it had +was born in London and had never gone outside +it except for the week-end. All the other +houses were the same; they employed the usual +number of well-trained servants, and enjoyed +the same number of good meals and carefully +kept habits. The only difference between +Number 27 and the others was that it had been +taken over by the Government as a receptacle +for human pain and helplessness. It was an +officers’ hospital for cases which needed recurrent +surgical skill.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Behind its solid face spun the slow, cruel +hours of the fight between life and death, the +sometimes stagnant, but ever progressing, fight +between the courage of the mind, reinforced by +skill, and the helplessness of the broken body.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a grim, persistent fight, shrouded in +mystery. Sometimes skill got the better of +the mystery, and men who came there expecting +never to walk again went away cured and +rejoicing; and more often mystery got the better +of skill, and hopes and efforts were alike +baffled.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The hospital was only one of Hilton Laurence’s +many activities. He was an eminent +surgeon, with his hands full, and glad to leave +the unremunerative and more stationary work +to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony didn’t want money; he wanted +work. He had no tastes; two ugly rooms in a +quiet street, with an occasional ill-cooked meal +when he and his landlady remembered it simultaneously, +were all he asked for. He had no +expensive pursuits and no desire for expensive +objects. He had a nervous horror of society, +and refused every invitation he received.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Books contented him, and the only form of +exercise he took was to walk out of London +down the North Road with Max at his heels +after his work on summer evenings. He +walked straight out, sat in a hedge to smoke a +pipe, and returned. When the weather became +too cold, he went into a cottage for a cup +of tea instead; but he never sought any companionship +beyond Max’s, and he disliked all +attempts at conversation.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not realize that he was trying +as far as possible to reproduce his prison conditions; +but it was, nevertheless, what his mind +fumbled toward. He wanted to feel about +him the safety of inflexible habit, set work, and +an increasing inhibition. He wanted to close +all the avenues to his senses down which might +come the haunting images which racked his +heart. He wanted not to remember, not to +feel, not to see. He felt that if he could only +completely cut himself off from his old conditions, +he might be as marooned in London as +on a desert island.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was easy to get rid of his family by the +hedge of his work and the reassurance of an +occasional letter. He seldom saw Henry, who +had been severely discomposed by his own lack +of judgment. He was, of course, glad Anthony +had not gone out of his mind, but at the +same time he disliked to think that he had been +provided with all the materials for thinking so +without the event taking place.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence persisted from time to +time in trying to draw Anthony out of his +packed solitude; but Anthony disliked his excellent, +well-chosen dinners, where men aired +their theories of reconstruction, and carefully +avoided the subject upon which their lives were +spent. All talk which did not deal with the +immediate became for Anthony a mere cheating +of the intelligence, a bite on empty air. +He wanted to see speech used only for the purpose +of action.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Thought was different. You must, he +knew, accumulate thought in order to provide +the safe material for activity, but no after-dinner +conversation went very deeply into +thought. London traveled more easily upon +the oiled surface of its hourly topics; and Anthony, +who had got into the habit of thinking +a thing out till he hit against his last idea, was +often disconcertingly aware that people +thought he ought to stop, and that politeness +forced you to leave your social foxes at some +distance from their holes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You ought to be a Trappist,” Hilton Laurence +said to him once; “you have made a religion +of silence.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The only exception Anthony made was that +he talked to his patients; for them he waived +all his rules and inhibitions, he encouraged +them to speak off the point, because they did +not know what the point was, and, if confined +to its preconceived direction, might miss it altogether.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was peculiarly gentle and patient +with his cases. He would listen intently to the +irrelevant, and no complaint ever escaped him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It is just as important for a mind that +manufactures complaints to get rid of them by +airing them,” he explained to Hilton Laurence, +who suggested shorter methods, “as for a real +complaint to be looked into and tackled; only +the remedy in the first case is chiefly in the +airing of it. It is always worth while to listen +to what people say if they have anything wrong +with them at all. Of course if their only +ground is to present themselves picturesquely, +one might try a different method. All introspection +is selfish beyond a certain point, and +all selfishness increases the difficulty of breaking +a habit. It is a curious point that unselfishness +is invariably bad for other people, +and selfishness bad for the person himself. +One would like to know the moral, if any, a +bishop would draw from it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You may be sure he wouldn’t accept it if +he couldn’t draw a moral from it,” said Hilton +Laurence. “But what method would you try +with a case of sheer nerves?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you when I’ve found one,” replied +Anthony. “At present I don’t believe +in sheer anything. I used to before I went to +prison, and when I was first there—the first +six months—I believed then in sheer misery; +but other factors came in. There were curious, +unexpected let-ups.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You must have had some odd experiences,” +Hilton Laurence ventured tentatively. Anthony +had never talked to him of his imprisonment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The most ordinary ones in the world,” Anthony +answered dryly. “I learnt how to bear +what I couldn’t, and I got this out of it—that +now I know I can. The limit of human endurance +is the limit of consciousness. When +you get to a certain point you turn or break; +or, what is perhaps more common, part of you +breaks, and part of you turns. Life means +you to have this process gradually. That’s +why, in general, old people are weaker and +wiser than the young; they don’t get their experiences +all at once. But in this war some +of us got it quick, and we have to pay for it +slow.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Number 27 Palace Court absorbed Anthony. +He had cases outside it, private cases +which came to him from his old practice or +from the wide circle of the Arden family, and +others came from his singular successes; but +his life was the life of Number 27 Palace Court. +He felt it move in him like the double consciousness +of domesticity. He never took any +obvious notice of the nurses, but nothing about +them escaped him. If one of them needed a +holiday, Anthony saw that she got it; and if +another scamped her work, Anthony found out +why, and if he couldn’t remove the cause—and +he often could remove the cause—he removed +the nurse. He rather disliked the capable +and unattractive matron, who seemed to +rely more than the unattractive should upon +the exhibition of her capacities; but he saw that +her rule was in the main just, good for the patients, +and bringing out, with occasional flares, +the best qualities of the nurses, and he knew +that justice, even a rough-tongued justice, is +too valuable a quality to pass over. When +Hilton Laurence said: “I can’t stand that +matron; let’s get rid of her. Women were +meant to please, and she wouldn’t please an +iron door-scraper,” Anthony bluntly refused.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t see +that women were any more meant to please +than men. When they do, they often do it to +get out of other things. Matron knows her +job; we’ve never had a scandal here, or lost a +case through carelessness. You don’t want a +woman you can fall in love with for a matron; +you want a woman you can’t.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence looked rueful, but he +agreed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not at all sure <span class='it'>you</span> can’t fall in love +with her,” he said rather crossly. “You’re +both made of cast-iron. The sisters are quite +pretty, and I don’t believe you’ve looked at +them!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But Anthony had looked at them. He +knew every detail of their work, and he had +watched their absorbed complete self-consciousness, +to which their daily life was a mere +subsidiary fact. They were women long before +they were nurses.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony studied the Irish Roman Catholic +sister, whose gay and joking exterior hid a determined +unselfishness; he knew she would appear +careless of details and be safe to leave +patients with; he couldn’t trust her memory, +but he felt certain of her punctual heart. She +was one of the race of mother-women to whom +all objects of care are more precious than their +lives.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>On the other hand, he deeply disliked a +smart and neat-handed young woman whose +interest centered in her own attractions, and +who would sacrifice a patient’s comfort for a +moment’s self-indulgence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A flirtatious night sister once made an +emergency call an opportunity for a determined +attempt upon Anthony’s affections, but +she did not do it again. He stared at her out +of strange, gray eyes with ironic curiosity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wonder why you are doing this kind of +thing,” he said on the landing in his low, clear +voice; “you do it very badly. I should +strongly advise you to return to your duties.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was the first time that Anthony had realized +that the nurses were of the same species +as Kitty. It came over him as he looked at +the confused and irate night sister how differently +Kitty would have taken his question, and +how in the end she would have triumphed over +him. He could never have said that Kitty +played the game of sex badly; she played it so +well that half the time Anthony had never +been aware that she played it at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Now he was aware. Every sense he had +ached for her and demanded her perpetual +stimulus. He was like a man athirst in a +desert of sand; he could drug his brain with +work, but at night his body and his heart beat +out their revenge upon him; and this silly +woman, with her unready eagerness for his attention, +forced back his torture straight upon +him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He wondered, as he left her, if he had blamed +her too sharply. Perhaps her desire to win +his admiration had been aroused by the obstinate +longing for another woman in himself. +The invisible traffic between mind and mind is +full of misleading messages. The night nurse +hated him from that moment, but all the nurses +preferred Hilton Laurence; he was less polite, +much less considerate, and far more approachable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was the patients who wanted Anthony. +There was something in his spare, tall figure, +a little bent, in his grizzled hair and young +gray eyes, which filled them with confidence +and hope. He was young enough to inspire +them, and old enough to reassure them by his +steadiness, and they knew he cared.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They felt he was there for them, not for +success or experience or money, not merely as +a doctor, but as a personality. He would +never let anything interfere between their cure +and his efforts, nor would he give up helping +them when help seemed useless.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The purpose of his being was to relieve pain, +and in the depths of his quiet eyes was the full +knowledge of it. He had that understanding +of suffering, complete and without shrinking, +which few doctors possess. He did not want, +as Hilton Laurence did, to rush in with his +health, his skill, and his brisk cheerfulness, and +then get out again as soon as possible, forgetting.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Laurence’s “cut and come again” attitude +frightened the weak and gave no encouragement +to men who had been slowly undermined +by recurrent pain. They could not believe in +quick or cheap escapes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony offered them none; he never deluded +them or hurried from them. If there +was nothing he could do, he listened carefully +to what they had to bear; the most he ever said +was, “I think this trouble will improve in +time,” or, “I hope this may help you a little,” +and when he said this, improvement and help +always followed, and renewed the smoking flax +of hope.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He succeeded in persuading men to make +efforts who had given up the attempt in despair, +because they saw that he had personal +dealings with despair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You see,” Anthony explained, “it is always +worth while trying, because no one knows +the exact place where courage takes over from +failure, and it is a pity to stop at failure if one +can help it. Miracles are merely getting the +hang of a thing suddenly that you’ve tried at +deliberately till you’re sick of it; you’ve got +to help yourself just as far as you can before +anything else helps you, and few of us know +how far we can till we try.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s much easier,” he explained to another +man suffering from general debility after a +severe wound, “to get over a bad time than to +get over having had one. That’s your trouble +now. The bad time is finished, but it took +half of you to get through it; you’ve got to +win that half back. It will be quicker if you +keep reminding yourself that you really <span class='it'>are</span> on +the right side of things, though of course it +won’t be easy. You must go on calling the +other half of you back.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But if his patience was endless with the +weak, he was sharp with those who did forbidden +things from bravado. Anthony had always +despised the false courage which wants +to be admired; it cloaked too clearly an invisible +cowardice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t think you are showing courage,” he +would assert to a man who had disobeyed a +restriction. “Courage is the patient handling +of danger; it is not the foolish manufacturing +of it for purposes of showing off. No one in +a busy hospital is going to admire a fool. We +should deeply regret it if we threw away your +case by our carelessness, but no one is going +to mind your throwing it away by your own.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony took endless trouble to divert his +patients’ minds; he never rested till he found +some taste or hobby which he could encourage. +Nothing in the hospital was allowed to prevent +a man’s carving out a healthy interest.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence was often surprised, and +the matron frequently irate, at Anthony’s +waiving of the rules to suit the oddest occupations.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“In a short case,” he explained to Hilton +Laurence, “you can concentrate on the disease, +and one needs only to know enough of a +man’s mind to keep his nerves quiet and his +common sense uppermost; but in a long case +you <span class='it'>must</span> know your man, and get him an object—virtually +<span class='it'>any</span> object outside of himself—to +hook on to. Any invalid’s attention gets +concentrated on discomfort and sensation, and +the longer the case is, the more water-logged +and self-centered the mind gets. You’ve got +to fill it, if it’s only for half an hour a day, +and never mind on what—comic songs, theosophy, +tall stories, well-cooked food, the study +of the Welsh language, or a music-hall star. +Look at that jockey you handed over to me a +month ago. I couldn’t think what to do with +him, he seemed such a stuck case; all that septic +business, going on so long, had just rotted him +to pieces. Actually, the mischief had stopped, +but I couldn’t start him up. He’d been ill +too long. I wrote to my father to unearth +some old racing papers I knew my brother +Tom had kept for years, and the man lighted +up immediately. Sister got him an album, +and I found him sitting up in bed, a thing he +assured me he would never do again, pasting +in different records of horses as fast as he +could go. Then we started getting a sporting +editor to visit him and keep him up in what +was going on now, and it’s astonishing to see +the change in him. He’s sleeping and eating +and getting quite a healthy color back, and all +because he’s succeeded in finding something +that interests him more than his own inside.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All these long cases need humoring; they +are beyond drugs and knives. We doctors +have got to learn how to give them desires.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Desires,” murmured Hilton Laurence. +“Well, I dare say you’re right. I’ve often +acted on that theory without analyzing it.” +He hesitated for a moment, then he risked, +“Come to think of it, I did it in your own. +You know, my dear fellow, six months ago, +when I blew in to Henry’s flat, you were as +near going bang off your head as any fellow +I ever saw. I wondered how I dared trust +you in an operating theater with the instruments.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’d have been much more dangerous without +them,” agreed Anthony. “Things you +are accustomed to handle give you sanity +straighter than ideas. I once knew a pianist +who was so drunk before his performance he +couldn’t walk across the stage. The manager +asked him how on earth he was going to +play? And he said, ‘Just get me to the piano +somehow; it’ll take care of me.’ They put +him on the music-stool before the curtain rose, +and he played divinely. No one guessed why +he didn’t get up to bow afterward.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you think your piano has cured you?” +asked Laurence, curiously.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony looked at him steadily for a moment, +then he turned away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The man was still drunk,” he observed, +“after he’d finished playing.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Cheerfulness was the predominant +note of the two long wards in No. +27 Palace Court. They were first floor rooms, +formerly stately London drawing-rooms, leading +into each other. One room had long, bulging +windows looking over the short, broad +street toward the high, red houses opposite, +and the other large, straight windows which +overlooked a small, open plot, a brown tank, +and a tree. The room itself was divided by its +small beds and enlarged by its shining, carpetless +floor. A glass case by the door held +beautifully polished sterilizing instruments. +It was the only sign of the office of the place. +A large center table was covered with well-arranged +flowers. By each man’s bedside was +a convenient locker with room for more flowers. +There were no curtains, no pictures, +nothing but the friendly monotony of whitewashed +walls.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Charming printed-cotton counterpanes covered +the small beds, and in the beds were the +broken men. The nurses moved in and out, +young, starched, and brimming over with their +helpful activity. They were always there +when they were wanted, and their stereotyped +smiles and jokes were as unfailing as the cleanliness +of the polished instruments; but the men +were, nevertheless, alone, under the mask of +their cheerfulness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Visitors came in from outside; they brought +the breath of the big, bustling world with them, +and sometimes they brought its fatigue. They +seldom knew how to talk to the patients. +Either the sight of pain and helplessness reminded +them of street accidents and doleful +emergencies, which they promptly related, or +they felt they must rouse their old friends to +what was going on in their own full lives; so +they poured out the wash of their easy cheerfulness +across a sea of pain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The tired and weakened minds of the patients +gathered themselves together for the +effort of attention. Very few visitors realized +that in the presence of weakness personal +strength should be used only to reinforce it +along the lines of least resistance; and that +those who are suffering pain are more vulnerable +to accounts of pain than they can very well +bear.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew these points from memory. +He knew how to slip a pillow under a tired +head so as to give it the precise angle of fresh +restfulness and in just the same way he had +learned how to slip the subject a man wanted +under his drifting mind. It was part of his +treatment to spend hours in the hospital. It +upset the nurses and curtailed their jokes, but +after a time they got used to him. He was +very silent, and came in and out like a shadow +drawn by some instinct toward the men who +needed him most.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Of the three types of cases in the little hospital, +one was of those who were nearing the +point where they would have to be pronounced +hopeless. When this was reached, they would +be moved to a big hospital for incurables, or, +if they preferred it, they could be returned to +their own homes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The mind of science—all that it already +knew, and all that its patient skill was fumbling +toward—would be switched off them; +there would be nothing more to be done. +Whenever they saw a doctor in the wards +their eyes grew into the question: “Has the +time come? Are we finished?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The doctor or the matron always told them +as if a pleasant change lay before them, and +the men wanted to be ready to take the joke +in the right spirit. They knew that when that +change came there would be no more changes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence never dealt with the hopeless +cases. He left them to Anthony. They +were not operatable, and he frankly confessed +that he didn’t know what to say to them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He could, he explained, tell a man he was +going to die as well as any one, but he hadn’t +the nerve to tell him he was going on dying. +He left that to Anthony. Anthony accepted +his patients in a different spirit; he sat with +them every day, and when he was not with +them, his mind was seldom off them. He was +determined they should have a future. His +mind twisted this way and that against the +teeth of their cages.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Whatever was left of them Anthony found +a use for. He never let one physically hopeless +case leave No. 27 without something he +could do before him. Each patient cost him +sleepless nights and endless watchfulness; his +own life became sucked up in their problems, +but he grudged nothing that he gave. He +knew that death was far less terrible and far +less an enemy than despair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The second set of cases were those for which +there was some hope, but in which the symptoms +had continued so long as to obscure it. +The patients might win through to approximate +recovery if the men themselves could +grasp it or were not too tired to wish to +grasp it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>These cases were the most difficult of all, +because unless the will was arrested and +brought into action, they would probably sink +into the same class as the incurable. They had +to be made to believe that they were getting +better and at the same time stimulated to +want it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Their symptoms had already obtained a fascination +for them; they longed to be left in the +little effortless circle of their pain and weakness. +Suffering was their world; it was no +longer acute, and their strength had sunk below +the line of any desire to escape it. They only +wanted their condition to be acknowledged and +to be left alone with it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was endlessly patient with them. +He found out what their old tastes had been +before their symptoms blotted out their significance, +and he worked down to them as a +careful excavator works down to a buried marble. +He was never in a hurry and he never +struck too hard.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The third class of cases were the happy ones. +An acute observer would have known them as +he entered the wards. Their eyes were alive, +and the look in their faces was resolute. They +knew they were getting better and that they +were contributing towards their own recovery. +They often had to suffer intense pain, but beyond +it was an horizon; they had not sunk below +the level of personal fight.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony found them a great help, because +he set them in his mind as the models for the +others. He learned from watching them what +could be expected of the coöperative spirit, +once you had found and roused it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Science can do a great deal,” Anthony observed +to Hilton Laurence, “but if we get faith +on top of it, it can do almost anything. The +trouble is that scientific men aren’t taught to +handle faith, and generally the faith-healing +people are set against science; so we do our +job about as well as a team of pulling horses.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The invisible isn’t our job,” said Hilton +Laurence, impatiently, “and most people’s +faith is nonsense.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony shook his head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think it is,” he said reflectively. +“I think most people’s faith is courage; only +we haven’t enough of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence looked suspiciously at his +partner. He was sometimes afraid that Anthony +was becoming a crank. Laurence was +enough of a scientist to know that you must +keep your eyes open for a new theory, but he +wished to see a new theory produced on an old +line. Cranks are people who want new lines. +However, perhaps all Anthony needed was a +holiday.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence met Henry the next day +by chance at a street corner.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Your brother,” he said, “ought to go out +more. Why don’t you take him to a music +hall? Try ‘Yellow Slippers.’ ”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry had not seen Anthony for months. +He had made several suggestions, but Anthony +had always got out of them or asked +Henry to meet him at hours and places that +Henry thought unsuitable.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry urged “Yellow Slippers” over the +telephone. Anthony replied that he would +certainly dine with Henry, but he hated music +halls.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry, however, convinced him that he must +tolerate the revue because Anthony had, after +all, tolerated nothing convivial for ages, and it +was Henry’s idea of being with him. It +didn’t occur to Henry as possible simply to +dine with one’s brother and have the rest of the +evening suspended in front of one.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s not as if you played bridge,” he reminded +Anthony, reproachfully.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They went to “Yellow Slippers,” and it was +exactly what Anthony had thought it would be—one +good song, several pretty dresses, boredom, +noise, and very unanimating coarseness. +Between the acts they walked up and down the +promenade, and saw the over-dressed, over-painted, +under-vitalized habitués. Henry +knew who they all were, if they were at all +well-known, but he was very careful not to do +more than point them out to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We don’t want to get mixed up with any +of them,” he explained. “At the same time, +one can’t go about with one’s eyes shut.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It reminded Anthony of a circus, but he +didn’t say so—heat and dust and glare, and +creatures held to be tame that ought to have +been free to be wild. The wildness that he saw +occasionally flicker up through the slow evening +was not enough to tear down one of the +bars.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The promenade was not, as it would once +have been to Anthony, a boring or a disgusting +sight. It shook him with pity. He knew now +what these men and women wanted: they were +seeking for the chief stimulant of life. The +younger people had in their eager search the +quality of freshness; they sought for this vivid +stimulant with more uncertainty. Sex still +had for them the survival of the unexpected. +They looked for it in the wrong place, because +out of this glare and noise, with its promiscuous +expanse of professional charm, they could get +only the least from their desires. They were +throwing away quality for the sake of experience.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But for the older people there was a deeper +pity, with a sharper penalty. They knew precisely +what they wanted; there was no mystery +to uplift and disguise desire for them, and +no escape into the unexpected. What they +had had many times and with zest they wanted +to have again with a flickering satiety. They +wanted it less, and yet they wanted it with a +sharper edge of eagerness than the young. +They knew that they had only a short time, and +there was nothing else that they wanted to do +with it. Anthony watched them without condemnation; +he, too, shared their sense of frustration. +Experience which had shut them in +had shut him out; he saw no reason for any +superiority. There was something in them +which they had wasted until it had lost its significance, +and there was something in himself +which for lack of use had no longer any significance +at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There,” said Henry, with a note of explanatory +patronage, “is quite a different type—a +woman with style. I am very much mistaken +if she is not a woman of the world. One +notices these differences at once if one has the +observer’s eye. I dare say she has no more +virtue than a professional cocotte, but she +knows how to carry her head. She’d pass +anywhere for any one.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony turned his head to follow Henry’s +eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All these types are alike to me,” he began; +then he stopped abruptly, for the words were +no longer true. The girl leaning over the +balustrade was Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Whatever Kitty was there for, even if she +didn’t particularly want it, was already in her +hands. She had an air of complete detachment +and immunity. As she turned her gaze +slowly back to the promenade her eyes met +Anthony’s. She still smiled indolently, but +in her eyes there flashed a sudden signal of +appeal.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked at Anthony for a moment as his +worst patients looked at him when he came into +the ward and their eyes searched him to read +their hopeless fate.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then as he hurried quickly toward her, she +gave her old careless laugh.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hello, Tony,” she said. “You’re as unexpected +as an archbishop. I should never +have thought ‘Yellow Slippers’ was your kind +of form. You must be going down in the +world just as I’m climbing up!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She made no introduction to the man beside +her; there was of course a man beside her, a +tall, weedy youth with a single eyeglass. +Kitty turned her shoulder toward him, and +said over it, “Go and get me a box of chocolates; +you know the kind I like.” Then she +waited till he had disappeared. Anthony noticed +with a sharp pang of dismay that Kitty +had changed. Her face and wrists were curiously +thin, and there were hollows under her +unquiet eyes; but her smile was the same, and +she looked him up and down in a whimsical, +unhurried friendliness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s awfully nice to see you,” she said, +“once in a way, you know, after six months. +Is that your brother Henry? He’s like you, +only he’s much tidier—tidier in his nature, I +mean, as well as in his lovely white waistcoat. +He’ll burst with curiosity, trying to pretend +he doesn’t want to hear what we’re saying. +Why don’t you bring him over and introduce +him to me? I couldn’t do him any harm, you +know; I’m sure he takes far too much care of +himself to run any risk. I suppose I’m a risk, +aren’t I? I can’t say <span class='it'>you</span> look particularly +nice, Tony. Your eyes are cross, and your +hair’s too long, and your dress-suit is shocking. +It looks as if you wear it only once a year to +dine with the lord mayor. I expect you keep +it the rest of the time under a pile of medical +dictionaries, don’t you? I do like a man to be +smart.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to waste time introducing +you to Henry,” said Anthony, quickly, “but +I’ve got to see you properly myself. Where +are you staying? Here’s your confounded +ass with the chocolates.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He has fifteen thousand pounds a year, so +he tells me,” said Kitty; “so he can afford to +be silly. You can’t, you know, Tony. I +shouldn’t bother about my address if I were +you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got to tell me,” said Anthony, +stubbornly. Kitty’s eyebrows went up. “I +mean,” he entreated, “you might let me +know, Kitty. This isn’t seeing you, if you +were honest when you said you were +glad.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The young man reached them and looked +haughtily at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty held out her hand for the chocolates.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said reflectively, “these are the +kind I eat, only I don’t feel like them now.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She raised her eyes to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ve taken a flat with Peckham,” she said, +“a horrid little hole; but I’ve let the farm. +You can come and see me to-morrow if you +like, at four o’clock—6 Trevor Road, Kensington. +Fancy Kensington! It sounds like +mothers’ meetings and socks for the poor, +doesn’t it? But you won’t meet any mothers +at Trevor Road. Good-by, Tony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony turned reluctantly away from her. +He was aware of Henry’s tact in the distance, +strained almost to breaking-point by his curiosity, +but Anthony brushed it ruthlessly aside. +Henry’s tact meant nothing to him; he must +get away now, get away at once before his self-control +broke like glass. Anthony felt as +breakable as glass, and as transparent, before +Henry’s searching eyes. He realized suddenly +that he had, after all, been thinking +about Kitty for six months. He had never +left a moment unemployed, but behind the +employment, behind the fixity of his outer +mind, had lain inexorably, almost unconsciously, +the central thought of Kitty; and now +that he had seen her face to face, his thinking +was no longer unconscious. It pervaded the +visible universe.</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “I’ve got to get out,” he said brusquely to +Henry.</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “Oh, all right, all right,” said Henry, soothingly. +“But for Heaven’s sake, old fellow, +don’t <span class='it'>look</span> as if you’d got to! The building is +not on fire.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “Isn’t it?” murmured Anthony, dryly, as +he turned away. “I have a kind of impression +that it is.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>The very fact that Anthony had fought +with the image of Kitty for months undermined +his resistance to her; the sight of +her set him ablaze, and there was nothing left +in him which could put out the fire. He +turned his eyes from her only because she possessed +the universe. As long as he was sure +of her presence, he could go on behaving as if +she were not there; but from the moment the +big door swung behind him and his sight was +robbed of her, he lost all other consciousness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a cold, raw evening in December, +unhappy flakes of snow fell without direction +or intent, and changed instantly to moisture +on the pavement. Henry acquired a taxi with +precision. He said something about skidding +and something about the evening having been +a pleasant one, and he was prepared to share +the comfort of the taxi with Anthony; but Anthony +shook his head. He stood there ambiguously +without offering to give the taxi driver +Henry’s address. Henry gave it himself, +finally, and dissolved like the uneasy snow, +leaving Anthony to the wet streets and his persistent +phantom.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Everything held Kitty, each darkened window, +each hard bright light, each flying taxi. +Anthony saw over and over again her thin +wrists and hands, the hollows under her eyes, +the mocking spirit of her laughter. What did +it cover? What dreadful thing was Kitty hiding? +What had attacked and eaten away her +youth?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The physical aspect of her dimmed all other +questions; he did not ask himself who the man +was she had with her, or why she was in London. +Sickeningly and with increasing pressure +fear and memory rushed over Anthony. +He saw the apple-orchards in June, he remembered +how the buttercup-fields sailed toward +him on their sea of gold, but fear was in every +image of that returning spring. His heart +beat uneasily under the vision of beauty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All these things were Kitty. She had the +mastery of the green hills and open skies. +She was the breath of meadow sweet and the +songs of birds; he saw again the innocent, reckless +Kitty of his dreams. But why was she +so changed and thin—what haunted her gay +eyes and shadowed her soft lines and delicate +curves? She was like a spring on which a +blight has fallen.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Anthony reached his empty rooms he +walked to and fro till the late winter morning +sent its unlovely, muffled light into the room; +then he lay down on his bed without undressing. +Sleep caught him and flung him like an +enemy.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When he awoke it was late, and he could +hurry through the early details of his day and +let the hurry blind him. Anthony was only +aware of an intense uneasiness awaiting him. +He had to take a minor bone operation at the +hospital for Hilton Laurence. It was a tedious, +ticklish small operation on which Anthony +could force his mind; he did not let himself +think of anything beyond it. The usual instruments, +the heavy net of the ether fumes +filling the theater, came down like a shelter +between him and his stalking fear.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After the operation he went the round of +his wards, but here the sense of emergency +died out and refused to support him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The patients felt the quality of Anthony’s +attention was different; there was no strength +in it. He looked at them, listened and commented +on what they told him, but the force +he used on them and for them was no longer +there. It was reserving itself for an unknown +ordeal; they could not touch it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stopped to look at his bone case, +slowly coming back to consciousness from the +world into which the ether had mercifully +plunged him. The white, inexpressive face +on the pillow, with drugged, blank eyes, roused +in him a sense of envy. This man could get +through his worst moments buried in unconsciousness. +Anthony was alive and aware as +a man tied to a stake and facing flame is +aware.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He prolonged his work till the late afternoon, +and then hurried with a desperate sense +of frustration toward Trevor Road. It was +an unexpected small road lying between two +main thoroughfares, a small, unmeaning little +byway of low, fawn-colored houses.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The street was respectable, but dingy; it +seemed planted there without intention, and +it was difficult to imagine Kitty in any place +so unobtrusive and so without the forms of +life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham opened the door to Anthony, and +Peckham, too, was changed. Her face was +older and smaller than Anthony remembered +it. She had faded, and become uncertain of +herself. Her standards of life had fought +with her love for Kitty. Love had, in the end, +triumphed, but at the expense of Peckham’s +solidity; she could go on serving Kitty without +believing in her, but there was less of Peckham +left to serve.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was glad to see Anthony, but her eyes +told him that though she would rather see him +than any one else, he had come too late to save +her ruined standards.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She said a little dryly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a long time, sir, since we’ve seen you. +You’ll find Miss Kitty up-stairs; she has the +front room on the right.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had the most expensive spot in the inexpensive +house. There were more windows +and heavier curtains in her room than in any +of the others, and it was filled with larger pieces +of insignificant furniture. Massive, curious-headed +chrysanthemums bloomed oddly in +hideous vases, and a box of chocolates lay unopen +on the table.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>There was a fog outside, and some of it had +crept into the overloaded little room and given +it an air of mystery. Kitty was sitting over +the fire, crouched on a large blue-velvet footstool.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her small, white face had a look of stubborn +suffering. She glanced unsmilingly at Anthony +over her shoulder.</p> + +<p class='pindent'> “You’ve come, then,” she said; “you’d have +been more sensible not to. It’s such a boring +day! I don’t say I wouldn’t be pleased to see +the Angel Gabriel walk in with his last trump. +It would be some kind of sensation, anyhow. +I’ve always thought the day after the judgment +would be rather fun. It’ll be such a +joke rubbing it into the other goats that +they’re in the same box as you. There are +sure to be some pious ones who thought they’d +get off cheap and leave you to the burning.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you think of my new quarters? +Third-class lodgings rather remind one of hell, +don’t they?” She waved her hand in the direction +of the spotty, leaden oil paintings on +the walls. “It’s not very amusing, is it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll have to tell me why you’re here +before I can say whether it’s amusing or not,” +said Anthony, carefully. “People’s idea of +amusement differ. I didn’t find ‘Yellow Slippers’ +entertaining last night, for instance.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It was better than the alternative, anyhow,” +said Kitty, defensively. “Fancy being shut +up with these spiky book-cases and blue roses +all the evening! Personally, I consider my +present surroundings a certificate of my respectability. +Poor old Peckham! You might +tell her it strikes you like that; it would please +her. I shouldn’t stay in a place like this if +I were going in for gilded rapture, should I?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The truth is, I’m stony broke. I’ve forgotten +all about the two ends somebody or +other tries to make meet. I haven’t even got +one; and if I had, I’d sell it for twopence.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s eyes rested on Kitty’s jeweled +fingers and on her barbaric dress of wallflower +and old gold.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he said, “you ought to see your way +to twopence.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s clever of you,” she said approvingly. +“Any one else would have offered me +fifty pounds, and I should have no use whatever +for fifty pounds. What I want is five +thousand a year and no questions asked.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Even that,” said Anthony, “you might get +if you put your mind to it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not without questions,” said Kitty, quickly. +“If people do anything for you at all, they +want to know what you do with it, and all about +you. Then they try to make you do something +else. Curiosity is so tiresome! I never want +to know anything I don’t know already; the +kind of things you can be told aren’t the least +interesting.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid they have a distinct interest for +me,” said Anthony, slowly. “I came here to +find out one of them to-day.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty looked at him appealingly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t you just come to see me?” she murmured. +“Don’t ask silly questions, and after +I’ve warned you so nicely, too, and I wasn’t +feeling nice when you first came in. I might +quite easily stop being nice now if you bother +me about anything.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kitty,” interrupted Anthony, “I’m sorry, +but I don’t care a damn whether you’re nice +or not. I’ve got to find out now what is the +matter with your shoulder.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty stammered in a gust of frightened +anger. She flung her head back, and her face +grew pinched and changed, as a flower withers +and alters under a touch of frost.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean?” she said sharply. +“There <span class='it'>is</span> nothing the matter with my shoulder. +You’re stupid and interfering. I wish +you hadn’t come.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Still, I have come,” said Anthony, “and +I’ve got to find out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He got up and took her very gently by +both arms. She twisted under his hands, and +struggled madly against him like a wild +thing.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let me go!” she muttered between clenched +teeth. “I hate you! I’ve always hated you! +Let me go, Anthony!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But he did not let her go. He held her +with a gentle force against which all her struggles +failed her. She sank passively against +him; the wild throbbing of her whole being +stilled itself. She neither fainted nor cried.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her eyelids covered her eyes. There was +no color in her face except the delicate touches +of rouge that stained its deadly whiteness. +Anthony carried her over to a small, hard sofa +by the window and laid her down on it. She +was no heavier than a child.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty opened her eyes and smiled at him. +Her anger was gone as suddenly as it had +come.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do what you like,” she said, shutting her +eyes again. “After all, it doesn’t really matter +what anybody knows.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony fixed his face so that, if she looked +at him later, she would not see his expression +change. He was aware of what he had to +meet, and he knew that he must show nothing. +The strength of her resistance to him had been +the strength of her fear. He became aware +of every sound in the small room: the muffled +noises of the foggy street; a stir below him in +the dining-room, where some visitors were +pushing back their chairs; the plunge and vent +of the small flames in the fireplace; and Kitty’s +light, swift breathing under his hands.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He made his examination methodically and +quickly. It was what he had feared, but it was +worse, because not even Anthony had dreamed +that Kitty could bear in silence such a burden +of hidden pain. The lump on her shoulder +and beneath her arm extended in a long line +down her side; the growth had probably been +very rapid for the last six months. It was already +close to the wall of her lungs, if the poison +had not already invaded it. He guessed +from the unstable lightness of her breathing +that the invasion had already taken place.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He finished his examination without comment, +drawing the shimmering dress lightly +over her deadly secret. He knew that Kitty’s +eyes were on him now, and he turned his own +to meet them. They showed her nothing but +his steadiness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hate lying down,” said Kitty, impatiently. +She pulled herself up by a hand on +his shoulder, shivered a little, and moved back +to the fireplace. For a while neither of them +spoke; then Anthony broke the haunted silence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It may be one of two things,” he said +quietly. “I must get a second opinion before +I decide which it is. Hilton Laurence had +better see you with me to-morrow; but if you +don’t mind, I must ask you a few questions +first. I think we can do something about it, +you know.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, but I don’t want anything done,” said +Kitty, quickly; “that’s just why I haven’t +told any one. I arranged it all in my mind—you +see, I hate fuss and doctors and nurses. I +was afraid from the first it might be rather +bad, and I simply won’t be an invalid. Directly +I’ve had as much as I can stand, I shall +send Peckham off for a holiday and then I +shall go away by myself, to some nice, undisturbed +place, and take veronal. It’s just been +a kind of race between the fun and the pain. +I didn’t mean to stop until I’d had enough +fun, and I meant to stop if I had too much +pain; but after I’d decided—it was—it was +enough—” Anthony lowered his eyes. The +room was foggier than before. Kitty leaned +forward a little. The words that came from +her seemed forced against her will; they crept +out into the dim air like frightened things. +“I’ve had enough pain now,” she whispered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Their hands groped for each other. Anthony +knelt down beside her and put his arms +round her waist. He held her to him as if he +could hold off the onslaught of all enemies; +but it was Anthony who broke down.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty drew his head into her lap and stroked +his hair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It doesn’t matter,” she said under her +breath. “It’s not as bad as you think. It’ll +be all right, Tony. I won’t go on too long. +I’m glad you know after all. I didn’t want +you to, because I hate the—the ugliness; but +you mustn’t mind so much. You see, my life +isn’t really anything very important. I’m +just waste—like a bit of dust that dances in +the sunlight. It looks pretty jumping up and +down, but when the light’s gone, it’s only +dust.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Don’t, Kitty! don’t!” said Anthony. “I +can’t stand it. I’m so horribly strong myself, +and I can’t use my strength for you. I can’t +get any of it out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But there isn’t anything for you to worry +about,” Kitty urged. “I’ve had all the +things I wanted—I mean all the things I +could have if I’d lived to be a hundred—and +it would bore me awfully to grow old and fat, +perhaps, with wrinkles. Now I shall just slip +out, nicely and young, without any fuss.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony pulled himself together.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not yet,” he said, “Kitty darling. You +haven’t begun to have the things you want +yet, because I hadn’t got them to give you +before; now I have. Only give me a chance. +Let me fight your pain! For God’s sake, +Kitty, let me fight it!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She looked curiously down at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How funny of you to care still,” she said, +“when I thought I’d killed it! Dear old +Tony, I didn’t mean you to have this wretched +time. What is it that you want me to do?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Be patient,” he urged her; “do what I tell +you. I’ll have to see Hilton Laurence first +before I’m sure, but there are things that can +be done for you. I admit it’s a fight, but +you’ll have the whole of us on your side. +Everything I am and everything I can do will +go into this fight, Kitty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her eyes looked gravely at him. She +seemed to be weighing for him and for him +alone the cost of what he asked her. She shut +herself out of it as completely as if she had +already ceased to exist. Then she said gently:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right, old boy. I promise you I won’t +back out of it.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>The two men discussed the case for an +hour before Kitty came. They were +busy men, and an hour was an unusually long +time in which to go through the claims of even +the strangest case. Kitty’s case, though there +was an element of doubt about it, was not +strange; but it was, in a doctor’s phrase, a +“nearly perfect case.” Hilton Laurence, poring +over the diagram Anthony had drawn for +him, had never seen one so far advanced.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And she can come here,” he said incredulously, +“in a taxi? She must be a strong +young woman; most women, or men, for the +matter of that, at her stage of the proceedings, +would be lying drugged in bed with a couple +of nurses in attendance.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She isn’t like the ordinary run of women,” +said Anthony. “She has the thoroughbred’s +nerve; that’s what seems to give her a chance, +a fighting chance.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence glanced quickly at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Do you know her very well,” he demanded,—“as +a friend, I mean, as well as a patient?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony hesitated a moment, then he faced +his friend’s eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know her about as well,” he said gravely, +“as a man knows a woman when he can think +of nothing else.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence shook his head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah,” he said, “that’s a pity. I’d better +do the operating myself, then. You can help +me if you like, of course, but you’ll be asking +a good deal of yourself, Arden. If I were +you, I’d leave the case entirely in another +man’s hands.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t do that,” said Anthony, quickly, +“but I’ll be glad if you’ll do the actual operating. +I’ll see her through the rest; I am +asking more of her than I am of myself. But +you have to ask a good deal of people in order +to be of any use to them.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A discreet parlor-maid came in with a card.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Show her in,” said Hilton Laurence without +looking at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty came into the room as if she were arriving +at a party—a party where she expected +to be very successfully entertained. She +looked triumphantly well and perfectly mistress +of herself. She wore a set of Russian +sables, a little gold-brown fur cap came down +low over her dark curls, her emerald ear-rings +danced beneath it, as Anthony remembered +they had danced and flashed the first time he +saw her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She threw back her furs with a little gesture +of relief; they were lined with green brocade +and showed a honey-colored chiffon blouse.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty moved like the light <span class='it'>Princess</span> in +George McDonald’s fairy-tale, the <span class='it'>Princess</span> +who could not weep because she had no gravity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>At Anthony’s introduction she gave Hilton +Laurence an intimate, disarming smile. Kitty’s +smile was at once an invitation to good +fellowship, and a promise that no tiresome exactions +would follow. It was a smile that said, +“Here I am, and I’m sure you’re going to be +awfully nice to me; but you won’t find me a +bit of a bother afterward.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The two men were aware that they had +ceased for the moment to be doctors: Kitty +had transformed them into alert and friendly +hosts. Hilton Laurence held a chair for her, +and Anthony was sent to find a biscuit for her +Pekinese.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hope you don’t mind dogs,” Kitty explained. +“As a matter of fact, Algy isn’t a +dog; he’s a Chinese dragon. You can’t keep +a real dog in London, can you? But I must +have something that wags. Besides, Algy is +supposed to match my fur. He loves it so +much he eats it. I suppose you haven’t got +chocolate biscuits; those are the kind he likes +the best. Your rooms are rather nice, not like +a doctor’s a bit. Those old prints are so jolly, +and I suppose you have flower-boxes in the +spring—like an actress. But what a frightful +lot of books! Do you make Tony read them? +Poor old Tony! Do tell me about him. I +suppose he’s awfully clever, isn’t he, like the +strong, silent men in the detective-stories who +find out everything in the end, if they don’t +turn out to be the murderer themselves? I +shouldn’t think you were a silent man, are you, +Mr. Laurence? Though I’m sure you’re a +strong one. Tony says I’m to call you +‘Mister,’ because surgeons are smarter than +doctors, and the smarter you are the less there +is to show for it. Is that the idea?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton agreed that it was, only, if you got +smarter still, he explained, they made you a +knight, which rather landed you.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The Pekinese being satisfied with sweet biscuits, +took the rug in front of the fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The sun came out and played upon the gilt +bindings of the medical books and made +patches of gold upon the thick, soft carpet. +Kitty eyed it appreciatively. She loved the +sun and thick, soft carpets and all the ease and +brightness of the world. She leaned back in +her chair and surveyed the two men before her +with confidence. She knew that she could +handle the occasion with the ease which was +natural to her in all situations which contained +men.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Men can put up with disagreeable occasions, +but they do not like to feel that any woman +they admire finds an occasion disagreeable, and +Kitty invariably let them off this realization.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You do yourselves awfully well,” she said +appreciatively, “don’t you? I think it’s so +sensible. Now here’s a place where I suppose +a certain amount of tiresome things go on—and +yet it’s quite cosy and nice to look at—and +I expect, Mr. Laurence, you have a first-rate +cook? Anthony didn’t say if I was to +stay to lunch or not—I’ve never been to a doctor’s +before—so I don’t in the least know what +happens, but I suppose you ring a bell and +turn me out when you have had enough of me? +Perhaps Tony gets up on the hearth rug and +says ‘Well—?’ I’ve tried that and it generally +succeeds—when it doesn’t I turn on a +gramophone with a record of Tosti’s ‘Good-by.’ +You might find that useful, Mr. Laurence—of +course it’s rather affectionate.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Kitty,” said Anthony, quietly, “I think +you’d better come over here and let us have +a look at you. You’ll have to take your things +off, and lie down on this little sofa.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The two men turned to each other while +Kitty strolled across the room. She stood in +the patch of sunlight, and slipped off the security +of her sable furs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was silent now, but there was a tranquillity +in her silence compared with which the +perfunctory conversation of the two surgeons +together was nothing but a nervous flurry. +They had to say something, but Kitty hadn’t. +She looked out of the window, lay down on the +sofa, and turned her eyes in the direction of +Algy, who yawned.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Now we’ll just have a look at you,” said +Hilton Laurence, with a renewed and impersonal +cheerfulness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony said nothing. He stood on the +other side of Kitty with his eyes fixed intently +on his colleague. He was trying to see Kitty +not with his own eyes, but with Hilton Laurence’s +eyes. He was determined to know and +feel about her exactly what Hilton Laurence +knew and felt, so that he would not be deceived +by the sharpness of his own personal hopes and +fears. He ceased to think of Kitty herself in +his anxiety to read the other man’s mind.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence was not thinking of Kitty’s +personality either. She had become a case, an +extraordinarily interesting, madly neglected, +case. She was not a human being any longer; +she was a little undressed figure on a sofa, a +pitifully broken figure lying there to be, if possible, +mended.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She was forgotten, but she herself did not +forget; her mind wandered with amused serenity +over the men before her. They couldn’t +be only doctors to Kitty; they were men, and +it was the first time she had ever seen men intensely +at work.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>All the rest of her life had been connected +with men at play.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had been their play. Games, dances, +and entertainments had filled in the hours, and +she had shared them all with an admirable mastery; +but she knew that she herself was the +aim of all the other pleasures. The men she +knew had been intent, but they were intent on +pleasing her, and these two men, who had forgotten +her altogether, were just as intent without +there being any question of pleasure.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She wondered curiously what it would have +been like for her if she had had something to +do, something besides men to interest her. +Her whole life might have been different; less +amusing, perhaps, but more worth while. She +might have been just as attractive, but with +something else to fall back on—something with +more permanence and dignity. But perhaps +she couldn’t have managed both. Being attractive +took a great deal of time. Her father +had once told her: “People who rely on +their natural charm wear it out or have to become +unselfish. It’s a subject to which you +must devote your whole attention in order to +succeed.” And apparently the interest of +work took time, too. After all, you couldn’t +have everything.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty was glad that she had seen Anthony +at work. Work would be good for him; it +would be good for him whatever happened.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The Pekinese stopped yawning, drew his +way slowly through the lamb’s-wool mat, and +sniffed suspiciously at the two doctors’ legs.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Silly old thing!” murmured Kitty. “They +aren’t doing me any harm. They think +they’re doing me good; that’s their idea, anyhow.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence was recalled by her voice. +He spoke with his habitual reassurance, but +without looking at her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thanks,” he said; “I think we’ve seen +enough. If you don’t mind, Miss Costrelle, +there are just one or two points we’d better +discuss while you’re dressing up again. I’m +afraid we’ve tired you, rather. Shall I send +you in a glass of wine and a biscuit?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty shook her head. She thought it rather +funny of the two men to go away and leave her, +but it made it convenient to powder her nose. +Laurence had a sensible looking-glass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they came back they found the same +conquering princess as before. Kitty’s head +rested against a black cushion, and the Pekinese +was rolled up in her lap.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had a habit of complete muscular control, +so that she made very few useless movements. +She could sit perfectly still for hours +without stiffness or restlessness. She sat +quite still now, smiling across the room at the +two men as they came back to her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had himself well in hand. His +face expressed nothing; he even gave Kitty +a slight answering smile, which did not touch +the controlled gravity of his eyes. But Hilton +Laurence came in with a reluctance he could +not quite hide; he hated to pass sentence on +this radiant young life before him. The +thought of it made him look tired and old. +He could stand his friend’s iron self-control, +but it was harder to meet the friendly gaiety of +Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He drew a chair opposite her and said +quickly:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m not going to beat about the bush, Miss +Costrelle. That lump of yours is a nuisance; +we’ve got to get rid of it. Arden and I are +both of one mind; we think surgical treatment +is needed.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Surgical treatment means an operation, +Kitty,” said Anthony, with a little twisted +smile; “it’s our pretty way of putting it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t want to be pretty,” corrected +Hilton Laurence, frowning; “I’m going to be +perfectly straight with you. This operation, +which is for bad glands, is a tedious, difficult, +and serious business, and you’re not in the +very best condition to have it. But you’re a +brave girl, and I think you’ll stand it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is it only glands?” asked Kitty, playing +with one of Algy’s long, soft ears.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t very bad glands enough for you?” +asked Hilton Laurence, quickly. Perhaps he +asked his counter-question a shade too quickly. +Kitty’s eyes rested on him thoughtfully, then +they turned to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Is it only glands, Tony?” she repeated.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We’re not perfectly sure ourselves,” said +Anthony, gently; “but in any case, we think +it’ll help the pain, Kitty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll undoubtedly be the gainer by it,” +interposed Hilton Laurence. “You don’t +stand to lose anything by the operation, Miss +Costrelle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No,” she said quietly; “only, of course, +I’ll be ill, sha’n’t I—I mean it’s just lying in +bed and having nurses and being an invalid? +It’s rather sickening, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Life is a sickening business, Miss Costrelle,” +said Hilton Laurence, gravely.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>None of them said anything for a time. +The fire crackled busily on the hearth, the winter +sunshine filled the quiet room. There was +nothing to be said against the impalpable and +awkward fact that would turn a gay princess +into a stricken, hopeless invalid. The two men +facing Kitty could perhaps ease her downfall, +but they could not prevent it. They knew +what lay before her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was impossible to say what Kitty knew. +She was grave for a few moments, then she +picked up Algy and shook him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He likes to sleep,” she explained, “in the +middle of the morning, though he’s quite +young, really. I think it’s the cream he takes +for breakfast—he will have it—and it goes to +his head. It’s in the Bible, isn’t it, how shocking +it is to be drunk at the third hour of the +day? I don’t know if it was meant to include +Pekes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She rose with her light, careless grace and +glanced over her shoulder at Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go to Kew in a taxi and have lunch +at Richmond, Tony,” she suggested. “It’s +such a heavenly day.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence gave a sigh of relief. She +didn’t understand, then; he smiled paternally +upon her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You couldn’t have a better program,” he +exclaimed; “the air will do you all the good +in the world.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All the good in the world?” repeated Kitty, +teasingly. “And how much do you suppose +that is?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Of course she knew that nothing would do +her any good. A dazed look had come over +Anthony’s face; he stood quite still by the +door, holding it open for her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence transferred his swift, clear-cut +attention to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Hand me over your case-notes for to-day, +old boy,” he said quietly. “I’ll take them +over for you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony pulled himself together.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thanks,” he said gratefully; “but I must +just go and telephone to the hospital.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty passed out into the hall. Hilton +Laurence followed her. She laid her hand on +his arm with a little friendly gesture of persuasion.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” she said in a rapid undertone. +“When I’m dead, make Tony stick to his +work, make him think he ought to help people. +He likes helping people, you know. It’s +funny; I had no idea work mattered so much to +men, but I see it does. Make him stick to it. +You see, it would be such an awful pity for +Tony to be smashed, wouldn’t it? Because +he really <span class='it'>does</span> help people, and awfully few +people ever really help. They just make a +fuss on the top; they don’t go down into it. +I’m sure you know what I mean.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My dear young lady—” stammered Hilton +Laurence. Of course he ought to say she +wasn’t going to be dead, but something in Kitty’s +eyes checked him. He didn’t say it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They stood for a long, queer moment in the +hall holding each other’s eyes. Then Kitty +heard Anthony’s returning footsteps. She +smiled at Hilton Laurence, reassuringly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dare say I shall get better, and it won’t +matter,” she murmured soothingly. “Another +time,” she added in her clear, high little +voice, “perhaps you’ll invite me to lunch. +Could he, Tony? Or is it one of your dreadful +rules that doctors can’t eat with patients—like +prisoners with their executioners? I’m +fearfully hungry, but I dare say I shall hold +out till I get to Richmond. Tell the man to +drive fast.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty leaned back in the taxi, and Algy, +yapping with tremendous zeal, poised himself +on her knees. He was prepared to feel that +he himself was the engine. Every nerve in +his small, erect body responded to the winding-up +of the car. He stood upon Kitty’s +lap as an admiral stands upon his bridge, ready +to direct the biddable universe.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty turned her head and looked back at +Hilton Laurence. He did not usually stand +on the steps to say farewell to his patients, but +he stood there now.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Promise you’ll keep him up to it?” called +Kitty, touching Anthony’s arm with her hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I promise,” agreed Hilton Laurence, steadily.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What’s that you’ve made him promise?” +asked Anthony as they moved quickly down +Wimpole Street, and flashed up the bustling +stretch of traffic stretching away toward the +Marble Arch.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it’s just a little thing I wanted him +to do for me,” replied Kitty, lightly. “And +now I’m going to enjoy myself.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had known moments in the +years of his captivity when he had let +himself go in a sudden compulsion of happiness. +He had shut out by an effort of the will +all sense of his imprisonment, and enjoyed +as separate things the sight and smell of summer +fields. He realized that he and Kitty +were doing the same thing now; they had their +single sunny hour, and behind and in front of +it were monstrous experiences. It was a green +space, with edelweiss growing between precipices. +They had had to climb up, and they +still had the dangers of the descent before +them; but for a little while they stood safe and +triumphant among the flowers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty managed their precarious footing better +than Anthony; her pleasure was not invaded +by thought or by the conscious effort +of her own will. She had the strange humility +of those who have not set themselves free by +moral struggles. She could be happy because +she expected nothing of herself and very little +of others. She knew no more than that it was +a fine day and she had Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty loved her lunch in the old-fashioned, +dark dining-room at Richmond, and when they +reached Kew she loved the gardens even more. +She caught sight of a squirrel making a brief +excursion between the trees in an open avenue, +and she held out her bare hands and laughed +at the feeling of the warm sunshine touching +them. Without a sign of fatigue, she drew +Anthony on and on, across the lawn, where in +the spring the azaleas bloom, and on into the +leafless, empty bluebell wood.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s like a sea,” Kitty told him, “when +they’re out; not the big, clumsy sea, full of +water, but a string of clear blue pools left +behind by a tide. You look and look till the +blueness closes over your head. I think the +light to-day is a ghost light, for I can almost +see the bluebells. We must come here together +one day next spring.” She broke off +suddenly, and said she wanted to see the palace +where Henry VIII’s wives spent the gayer +intervals of their precarious existences.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It must have been rather nice,” Kitty observed +speculatively, “to have been one of +those short queens; only I don’t believe Henry +would have cut my head off. I’d have been +short more naturally. The thing with Henry +would have been to get tired first. I could +easily have managed that.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t you tired now,” Anthony asked +anxiously, “without managing it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you aren’t Henry VIII,” said Kitty; +“I don’t have to take the precaution of being +tired of you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He hadn’t the heart to tell her that there +were other precautions which it would have +been wise for her to take. It was as if Kitty +had for the moment evaded the line of fatigue, +and was holding by sheer will to the absence of +pain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She strolled with him round the wide pond +that lay as flat as an upturned looking-glass +within a whispering thicket of yellow water +reeds.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Fancy it’s being a fine day,” Kitty exclaimed, +slipping her arm into Anthony’s, “and +then seeing a squirrel and having nobody +about! I like winter best, don’t you? +There’s nothing to take your attention off +what there is. The trees are so jolly and black +and bare; the grass is like a special treat; the +sky is nearer; and when it’s fine, you don’t +expect it. It’s so nice not to be sold by a +surprise.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was puzzled by this revelation of +Kitty. He had not supposed she would like +anything undecorative or bare. She voiced his +very thoughts for him, and then, with a sudden +little shiver of discontent, she said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I hate the water reeds. They all shuffle +and chatter so—like a crowd of underbred +women in church. It’s cold, too. After all, +I think I like hothouses best. Do you know +the blue lotus? Let’s go there. I like blue +lotuses. They lie in a pool and do nothing +but stare at you—awfully nice, lazy, well-dressed +flowers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They walked back to the blue-lotus house. +Kitty flung off her furs and gazed down into +the pool. Palms and tropical foliage surrounded +them, and in the distance there was +the broad back of a discreet custodian.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Funny old thing!” said Kitty, looking down +at the blue lotus. “It looks just the same as +the one I saw ages ago. I wonder how long +the flower lives.” Anthony told her, but +Kitty did not listen to him. She said suddenly: +“I got into an awful row after you +left Rochetts. I suppose Jim must have said +something to Daphne. When I went back to +the lawn to say good-by, they both got up and +walked into the house without speaking to +me. It’s funny the way married people act in +lumps, isn’t it? Your poor mother didn’t +understand. She was awfully bothered and +kind, and kept saying she was sure Daphne +couldn’t be well. Finally I said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ‘It’s quite all right, Mrs. Arden, really. +Daphne thinks I’m not fit to speak to—and +I’m <span class='it'>not</span>, you know.’ Your mother put her +hand on my arm and said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ‘My dear, I’m <span class='it'>so</span> sorry.’ Wasn’t it sweet +of her? I think it was the nicest thing anybody +ever said to me. Papa was examining +a rose-tree through his eyeglass. I don’t +know what he heard or thought about it; what +he said was:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“ ‘We must really get a Mabel Vernon.’ +Then we went home. The nicest part of papa +is he never says anything unless you do.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty gave a little inconsequent laugh.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I think I must have been mad that night,” +she added reflectively, “for I did such an absurd +thing! I worked myself up into telling +dear old Peckham all sorts of things she +needn’t ever have known. It was so silly, +for I wasn’t even going on with them. I knew +I’d come to a stop. You can’t be ill and gay +beyond a certain point, can you? Besides, I +didn’t want to very much.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course I’m as gay as I can be now, but +nothing Peckham need have minded. I always +think confessions are worse than sins. +Don’t you? Usually you only upset yourself +by your sins, but you upset other people by +your confessions.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony drew Kitty to a seat.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tell me,” he asked her gently, “what made +you make that scene there at Rochetts if you +don’t believe in confessions and don’t like upsetting +people?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty stared at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that,” she said. “Don’t you know? I +had to; I didn’t want you to get dragged into +all this. I knew something or other was coming, +and I meant you not to have the bother +of it. I thought you wouldn’t go on caring +for me if I was nasty enough and you got +clean away. Heaps of people have got over +caring for me beautifully. Of course I see you +haven’t now; so it’s different. I can’t keep +you out of things if you really care. I suppose +I shall just have to do what you like.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony looked down at her eagerly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Will you really, Kitty?” he asked. “There +is something else I want. I want it awfully, +more than I can ever tell you; I’ve been thinking +about it all night, hoping I could ask you, +but afraid of being a bother, too. It makes +the whole thing simpler if you can do it. I +want you to marry me at once, in three days, +before the operation. I want the right of taking +care of you. If you give it to me, we +needn’t have any nursing homes or nurses. +I’ll take a furnished house, and look after you +myself with Peckham. Whatever we have to +go through, we can go through solidly together. +It was my being such a fool as not to share +everything with you that left you alone with +this—this misery. I can’t let myself think of +it. You won’t mind marrying me now, will +you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Silly old thing!” she said. “It was I that +didn’t want to share anything. It’s awfully +sweet of you to think about marriage, but why +need we be married? If you want so awfully +to take care of me, I’ll let you do it; but marriage +seems to me rather off the point.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It isn’t,” said Anthony, passionately; “it +matters tremendously to me. I want the +right, the sanction, whatever you like to call it; +I want our lives held together before the +world as well as in our hearts.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I want every one to know that we’ve hit +on something that lasts.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty looked at him consideringly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Marriage doesn’t always last,” she said a +little dryly, then she slipped her hand over +Anthony’s. “You want nobody to say anything +horrid,” she said gently, “but I don’t +care any more what people say.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I care,” Anthony said desperately, “and, +O Kitty, I want you for myself. I don’t want +any one else to interfere or speak or think between +us. We’ve had so much of that already. +Let’s fall in with the world, if it’s +the only way to keep out the world.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty moved a little restlessly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It isn’t the world,” she said; “it’s your +mother and Daphne. Those are the people I +don’t want to come across. They’ve been +good and dear and kind, but it hasn’t been +possible—and it’s I, not they, who have made +it impossible. Because I’m ill, doesn’t make +me good, you know, Tony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony bent his head and kissed her hands +passionately, one after the other; he held them +to his lips as if he could not let them go.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I can’t stand any more, Kitty,” he said +quietly. “I’d like to stop and think of them +if you want me to, but I can’t. I think only +of you. I need you as I never needed you. +Don’t shut me out for anything on earth.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty watched him with bright, unshrinking +eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“How long would it be for, Tony?” she +asked.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Always, always,” he cried brokenly. “I +hope so—I believe so, Kitty. I will have your +life. It’ll be all right, if you can stand just +for a time having to be ill—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty put her hand up to check the words +on his lips.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“No, no,” she said; “don’t say doctors’ +things, Tony. I don’t need to be reassured. +Besides, it wouldn’t have the effect you want. +If I thought marriage would really be for +long, you see, I wouldn’t do it. I’d do anything +else you want, but not tie you up—and +hurt them. I’d think it boring; but if it’s +for just a little while and you awfully wanted +to, we could explain to them, and then they +wouldn’t mind so much. But I must know +the truth; is it only for a little while?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony bowed his head. The words that +had stood outside his mind like armed sentries +all the day rushed in and took possession: +“She may live a year after the operation if her +strength holds out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Not awfully long,” he said thickly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty got up and peered down at the blue +lotus.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“All right,” she said quietly. “Won’t it be +fun being married? We’ll ask papa to give +us lunch afterward at the Carlton. Will you +see him for me, Tony, and tell him about +it? Dear old thing! He’ll like ordering +lunch.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The shadows in the lotus-house had changed; +the custodian approached them, jingling his +keys significantly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’ll be nicer in the air,” Kitty said, taking +Anthony’s arm. “They’re rather stuffy +things, blue lotuses, after all.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony became suddenly aware of how exhausted +Kitty had become. Without a word +they turned toward the gates. The garden +was deserted, and the short winter day was +drawing to a close. It seemed an eternity before +the long road yielded them a taxi. Anthony +lifted Kitty into it and held her in his +arms.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She gave herself up to pain without resistance, +in the same spirit in which she had given +herself up to pleasure, only more quietly. The +pain beat down on her as rain beats on a flower. +Anthony was baffled by his separation from +her suffering. His imagination struck and +struck against it, as the sea fumbles and strikes +against the walls of iron cliffs, seeking an +entrance. He could not get in to share her +pain with her, and Kitty could not let him +in.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they reached Trevor Road, the fire +was burning brightly, and Peckham, vigilant +and expectant, produced hot-water bottles and +tea.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Moment by moment the gray pallor of Kitty’s +face lightened.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s been such a jolly day, Tony,” she whispered. +“I hadn’t any idea Kew would be +such fun. Go and see papa now; don’t forget +to tell him about the lunch.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle was always to be seen between +four and eight o’clock at his club.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Bridge was his inflexible habit. He found +the element of chance, he explained, purer in +cards than in women, and nothing ever held +Mr. Costrelle permanently, except the element +of chance.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He told Anthony immediately that he could +spare him only ten minutes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“However,” he added reassuringly, “most +things can be said in ten minutes. Will you +have a whisky and soda?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony not only consented, but poured +himself out a very stiff glass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Rattled!” thought Mr. Costrelle. “Kitty! +What a mistake it is not to diffuse one’s sentiments!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know if you have any idea,” Anthony +began after a short pause, “that I care +for Kitty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You spent the larger part of six weeks in +my daughter’s company last year,” said Mr. +Costrelle. “I never ask questions, but salient +facts rarely escape me.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I want to marry her,” Anthony said, leaning +forward, “immediately, within three days.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle’s long, white face lifted for a +moment; his blue eyes passed rapidly over Anthony, +and then returned to his glass.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Thursday,” he said, “I think that brings us +to Thursday. People with superstitions, I believe, +avoid Friday. I always respect superstitions; +there seems as much reason to believe +in them as to believe in anything else. I am +glad you have avoided Friday.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Unfortunately,” pursued Anthony, “this is +not all I have to tell you.” He hesitated for +a moment. Mr. Costrelle screwed his eyeglass +into his eye and waited patiently. He +disliked sentences beginning with “Unfortunately,” +especially if they referred to Kitty. +“Do you remember,” Anthony began again, +“that I thought last summer there was something +wrong with her shoulder?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle continued to regard Anthony +with defensive passivity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Certainly I do,” he agreed. “Most doctors +think there is something wrong with somebody—a +most disconcerting profession.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said Anthony, impatiently, “in this +case I happened to be right; there was a +growth below the shoulder which threw it a +little out of place. It has increased rapidly. +I saw Hilton Laurence with her this morning; +we both think we ought to operate immediately.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle drew out a slim cigar-case, +took out a cigar, lit it, and leaned back in his +chair.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What is the nature of the growth?” he +asked when he completed this arrangement, +“and what will be the effect of the operation if +it is successful?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We are not absolutely certain of its nature,” +replied Anthony, “but all the symptoms +point to its being malignant. It is probably a +fibroid cancer. The operation will prolong +her life. She could not live six weeks if we +left her as she is, and the pain—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stopped abruptly. The memory +of Kitty lying motionless in his arms choked +him. He could not speak to Mr. Costrelle of +Kitty’s pain. Mr. Costrelle finished his sentence +for him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Naturally,” he observed, “the pain will be +considerable in either case. Well, it’s a very +disagreeable subject, and as I suppose you +know all there is to be known about it, I leave +it entirely in your hands.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony drew a deep breath. He had not +known what to expect from Mr. Costrelle, but +this entire detachment left him with a sense +of its not having been necessary to expect anything. +He realized what Kitty had always +had to face, a responsibility from which in +every emergency Mr. Costrelle invariably +withdrew.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle wished to be quite friendly and +nice about it, and as he met Anthony’s astonished +eyes, it occurred to him that possibly he +had not entirely fulfilled his future son-in-law’s +expectations.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m quite pleased about the marriage,” he +added cordially. “The point of it, under the +circumstances, entirely evades me, but I am +sure it’s an admirable thing for Kitty. Marriage +always suits women. Did she send me +any message?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It hardly seemed a convenient moment to +suggest a luncheon party, but Anthony, remembering +that it was Kitty’s wish, made the +suggestion a little tentatively. Mr. Costrelle’s +consent was as spontaneous as if the idea was a +relief.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Certainly she shall have a luncheon at the +Carlton,” he said. “I could have arranged, +perhaps, a more perfect meal elsewhere, but +women like other things besides food. Shall +we say lunch at two o’clock? I shall arrange +to bring my own wine. I have a Château +Yquêm which is tolerably well known. Our +ten minutes is up, I think.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle’s self-possession was complete. +He shook hands with Anthony loosely +and briefly, and joined his bridge four with his +usual long-limbed, lounging gait. But despite +Mr. Costrelle’s impassivity, his ten minutes +had taken the zest from his life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Sorrow could not disarrange his habits, but +it could devitalize a failing taste. Mr. Costrelle +knew that he would never enjoy his +bridge so much again. Anthony thought his +future father-in-law did not know the meaning +of grief. He did not realize that the grief +which the mind evades is a grief which dogs a +man’s footsteps to the end of his days.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony plunged into the short concentrated +time which lay before the operation with +a queer sense of relief. He had gained no support +from Mr. Costrelle, but he would have +Kitty all the more to himself.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>When Anthony informed Henry of his +impending marriage over the telephone, +Henry exclaimed, “Good God!” but he +was very useful afterward. He gave Anthony +the address of a house in Duke Lane that belonged +to friends of his who wanted to go +abroad immediately and were willing to let it +as it stood; and he volunteered to go down to +Pannell for Anthony to break the news to his +parents.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry knew that a great deal of manipulation +was necessary if the marriage was to be +accepted by the family, and he thought it had +better be accepted, because, after a talk with +Hilton Laurence, he had come to the conclusion +that he couldn’t prove Anthony mad, and +that the marriage wasn’t a permanent disaster.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Insane acts are seldom certifiable,” Hilton +Laurence explained rather dryly to Henry, +“and in any case you won’t have long to put up +with it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry felt very strongly that a thing that +couldn’t be stopped and wouldn’t last long +had better not be looked into at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was unfortunate that Anthony insisted his +parents should be told the truth before they +decided whether they would receive Kitty or +not, but Henry, in whose hands the truth had +been deposited, felt that it was open to him to +deal with it economically.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Powder in sufficient quantities may destroy +an empire, but readjusted, and with the explosive +elements left out, it is said to give +a beneficial appearance to overheated complexions.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry told his father that he probably +wouldn’t consider the marriage suitable. +Miss Costrelle came from a good old Essex +family, but she was poor and had lived a long +time abroad. She hadn’t any particular +home, and Anthony was marrying her before +the operation in order to look after her himself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course it’s quixotic,” Henry continued +swiftly before Mr. Arden was fairly launched +upon his first negative. “Poor old Tony has +had a bee in his bonnet ever since he returned +to England. It isn’t an ordinary marriage, +and you know I feel with you, sir, that ordinary +marriages are always the best; but I do +think he might have done worse. If the girl +recovers, which is, I fear, extremely improbable, +she’ll make him more normal; and if +she doesn’t, he’ll have had his head, and be +free again, without much damage done.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Arden listened to Henry with some +consideration. He knew that Henry, with +very little help from him, had carved out a successful +legal career. His father appreciated +success and respected the law. It was true +the law was not always amenable to force, but +on the whole it usually protected the rights of +those who had most of them, and you could not +override it when it went against you. Mr. +Arden listened to Henry, even when he differed +from him, with more patience than he +usually found convenient.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If she comes from a good family, she must +have relatives,” he said severely; “all good +families have relatives. It’s pure nonsense +for Tony to make himself responsible for an +invalid bride. I don’t approve of it at all. +You may tell him so from me. I sha’n’t accept +it. Why should I? It’s not the kind +of thing an eldest son should do. What’s to +become of the place? Tony is as selfish as if +he were a scatter-brained young fool, and he +hasn’t the excuse of being one. Doesn’t he +know at his age he ought to have children?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But Henry says, dear,” interposed Mrs. +Arden, gently, “that it’s a really dangerous +operation and that it is not likely that Miss +Costrelle will live long after it, and then dear +Anthony could marry again.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That makes it worse,” declared Mr. Arden. +“It sounds to me like adding murder to matrimony. +I don’t want to sit and wish for a poor +girl to die, and I don’t like re-marriages. The +whole thing is both silly and shocking. I shall +have no hand in it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You hear what your father says, Henry,” +said Mrs. Arden, with an air of finality, which +always soothed her husband. “I shouldn’t +say any more about it until after tea.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But when tea-time came Mr. Arden had had +a further conversation with his wife—a conversation +in which, after a good deal of heated +repetition, on Mr. Arden’s part, a few suggestions +on Mrs. Arden’s, which he had come +to feel were his own, had softly permeated the +repetitions. They ran as follows: Anthony +was of age, he could really do what he liked; +therefore opposition was useless, particularly +as it had never been known to answer with Anthony. +It was almost certain the girl would +die, and dead girls are not aggressive. They +need not say anything very definite until after +the operation. If it was successful, and the +girl got better, she did belong to a good family; +if she didn’t get better, she wouldn’t belong +to any family at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not asking them for money. +He had said nothing about settlements. The +squire hated settlements. You had to tie up +your money and then keep your hands off it. +He wouldn’t have to do this in the circumstances, +and he couldn’t have got out of doing +it in any other. A message founded on these +facts was produced at tea-time, which could +easily be presented to Anthony in the light of +acquiescence.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“He’s of age,” Mr. Arden said reluctantly, +“and I can’t stop him making a fool of himself. +Tell him from me that we sha’n’t come +to the marriage—the whole thing is very disagreeable +and odd—but if the girl gets better, +she can come here to convalesce. Pannell’s +his home, and I sha’n’t keep him or his wife +out of it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Arden hid in the shrubbery and preceded +Henry to the steps of the dog-cart.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I remember Miss Costrelle quite well,” she +said, with a curious little flush on her face; “I +thought her quite fascinating. Of course I +know she’s not suitable for Tony’s wife, poor +dear. It’s a pity she is so—so French, but I +can’t help feeling sorry she is ill. Give them +<span class='it'>both</span> my love, Henry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry did not give the whole of this message, +either; he thought it was rash. He seldom +gave the whole of any message.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He offered to write to Daphne, but Anthony +had done this for himself. He wrote:</p> + +<div class='blockquote'> + +<p class='pindent'>I know you once understood and loved Kitty. I +didn’t when I was with you; I only saw what the +world had done to her and I blamed her for it. It’s +so hard not to blame people for their scars. Anyway, +you’ll forgive her now if she hurt you, for she +is under the harrow. I can’t lift it off; I can stand +by her, that is all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>I have found a way of doing it which perhaps even +you won’t understand; but if anybody can understand, +you will. I daren’t look ahead at any future, +but I suppose instinct, or whatever it is that pushes +us forward to help each other, will keep me up to +the mark. Laurence operates on Friday; I shall +assist.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Don’t bother to come even if you want to; only +think of her with kindness. For your sake she +would not have married me if she had not known +that it was only for a little time. Do you remember +how happy you were when I came back from prison? +I like to remember your happiness; only I think it is +true that one loves even more when one is unhappy.</p> + +<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:9em;'><span class='sc'>Anthony.</span></p> + +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry settled all the details of the marriage. +Bishops and chaplains in his hands were as +malleable as butter. There were no impediments.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had been so exhausted after her day at +Kew that Anthony had insisted on her remaining +in bed until the morning of her marriage. +He had succeeded in keeping her out of pain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty enjoyed the rest of lying in bed and +looking at her new room. It was a quiet, +pretty room. The windows overlooked the +Carmelites’ garden on the other side of the +narrow street.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was not a large garden, but there were +trees in it, and Kitty took a great interest in +the Carmelites.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Monks are the kind of men I don’t know,” +she explained to Anthony. “I do so wish I +could have one to talk to! I want to ask +them what it feels like to live all day long under +a rule and never to know what God made +the world for. For I suppose He did rather +mean it for men and women to live in, didn’t +He? And yet I admire them; it’s rather fine +to shut yourself behind a wall into a stone +church because you think it pleases anybody, +even God.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if there’s some kind of trick +about prayer. Do you think there is, and +that’s why they can go on for such an awfully +long time and not mind being bored? Peckham +prays, too; but she takes off her stays +first, and prays in her dressing-gown. Do you +think God hears her and the monks as well? +It must be rather nice for Him, I should think, +that some people don’t pray. Peckham expects +to get answers. Do the monks?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony said he thought they did, but probably +not the same kind of answers. He told +Kitty his own theories about auto-suggestion, +but Kitty only said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think that makes it any easier. +Where does the auto-suggestion come from? +There’s always an outside as well as an inside, +isn’t there? And if God made the outside, +He could put the idea into you from it, +couldn’t He? You must start a ball of wool +somewhere.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony wanted to go on with the subject, +for it surprised him to see that Kitty had lit on +a connected form of reasoning. But she broke +off immediately, as if she was afraid of anything +deeper than a chance question.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m so glad you like Peckham,” she said +softly. “I think I’ve got an awfully nice +family now—you and Peckham and Henry. +Henry came to ask me this morning if I wanted +a red carpet. He said I couldn’t have a +carpet without a carriage or a carriage without +a carpet. I do like Henry’s mind. I told +him we were going to walk down the little alley +to the church, so he said we couldn’t have a +carpet; but we might have bells afterward, if +we liked.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The walk to St. Mary Abbot’s was a mere +stone’s-throw from Duke Lane, but Kitty’s +strength was only in her mind. Her eyes +laughed, and she pretended that when she +paused to look into the tiny square or at the +quaint shop-windows of Church Walk she was +doing it for fun and not because her breath +had failed her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She had wanted to walk, because she said +it would seem more like the country. She +lingered as they came to the open doorway +of the church beneath the trees. They could +look up the long nave of the church toward +the altar.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry had had it beautifully decorated with +lilies and white lilac. Kitty had not thought +of the actual marriage before; she had thought +of her dress, which was the color of autumn +leaves, of lunch at the Carlton, and the fun of +the way Henry had dealt with the bishop; but +the grave service under its white shrine of +flowers came to her unexpectedly. She had +a wave of sudden fear; her face remained impassive, +and the gravity that settled down upon +her seemed merely appropriate to the hour, but +her heart beat against her side like an imprisoned +bird.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was the emptiness of the church which +disconcerted Kitty. There was no one there +but Peckham and Henry in a seat in front of +the altar. A verger with a duster stood in a +distant corner, and an expectant curate put +his head round the door from the vestry to see +if they had arrived.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham was on her knees, and her black +bonnet, with its single red rose, looked as if +it were being shaken by concealed emotion. +Henry’s face was a blank. He was prepared +for anything, and his entire consciousness rose +to hide the signs of his preparation. Kitty +might faint, Anthony might start some dreadful +skeptical fad. They might be late; they +ought not to have walked in together. The +situation bristled with irregularities, and it +depended upon Henry’s face to make it look +as regular as possible.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was entirely preoccupied with how +much Kitty could stand and whether he +couldn’t persuade her afterward to give up +lunching at the Carlton. The service passed +over his head without any significance whatever, +except that of length.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As Kitty turned toward him to make her +answering troth, her eyes widened a little, and +her lips stiffened. She had forgotten the great +words, but they raised suddenly in her heart +a storm of memory. Dick had said them to +her, long ago, by the bridge he had built across +their gardens: “For better for worse, for +richer for poorer, in sickness and in health.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony wavered and disappeared before +her eyes, and Dick came in his place—Dick, +who was all her early life—and held in his +hands her rich, untouched, and perfect memories.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stood only for broken things, for +hours of pain and indecision, for her incomplete +and torturing emergencies, and for her +blind hours of shame. She laid her small hand +firmly on the rails until the pain shot up her +arm into her shoulder. The pain brought back +the figure of Anthony. He stood looking +down at her with reassuring, watchful eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Death and innocence and Dick took no part +in this marriage, but a love that was stronger +than youth and innocence stood by her and +would stand by her to the end.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony felt that he knew Kitty in +the church; she was there in his world, a +part of the act that bound them. He was not +sure of her thoughts, but he was sure of her +attitude. Outside the church she ceased to belong +to him. When he suggested under his +breath that they should give up the Carlton, +her amazed eyes met his in a flash of hostility.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Give up lunching with papa?” she exclaimed. +“But he’s ordered it!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony had touched by accident on one of +Kitty’s laws. She had so few that it was not +surprising he should have failed to recognize +their existence. But the law of pleasure is at +least as strong in its compulsion to its votaries +as any other law. Business appointments +never disturbed Kitty. You kept them if you +remembered them and if you had nothing better +to do; but social engagements, which were +meant to be an exchange of pleasure, were inviolate. +Inconvenience, suffering, fate even, +bowed before a luncheon party. You couldn’t +put off what was meant to amuse. It might +even bore you; but if you’d promised, you’d +promised.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The intention was, after all, there, and the +intention was sacred.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry understood this immediately.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“If you had thought it would be too much for +her,” he said a little reproachfully to Anthony, +“you should have telephoned overnight +to Mr. Costrelle.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It won’t be too much for me,” said Kitty, +impatiently; “I shall like it. It will be great +fun after that stuffy, old, black church. The +flowers were charming, Henry. I like to be +drenched in lilies. I could get drunk on the +scent of them, couldn’t you? They’re the +least-innocent flower in the world, and yet +every one gets taken in by them, especially in +church. The curate had adenoids. I dare say +he couldn’t help it, but I hate men with +adenoids. This is what the troth, or whatever +it was called, sounded like.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty imitated the curate to perfection. +Henry laughed, and Anthony wondered where +the Kitty was who at the moment of those uttered +words had looked afraid. She had not +been thinking of the curate’s adenoids then.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was absorbed in his thoughts of Kitty’s +remaining hours. Did she realize how few +there were, or know the awful curtain which +would come down between the Kitty as she +was to-day and the Kitty she was to be to-morrow? +He wanted every moment of her +held in the privacy of their small house, dedicated +to their love and understanding, and he +felt a bitter rebellion against the artificial public +hours that she had claimed instead.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a harsh, unlovely day. London had +a look of dirty cold, the houses were pinched +into mere shelters, the raw air pursued and +baffled the passers-by, forcing them into an +irritated consciousness of their errands. +There was no color anywhere. The gray of +the sky was dead and unluminous, the streets +a greasy brown. Their motor skidded and +shuffled through the traffic like a sleep-walker, +blind to everything but its own passage.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry talked cheerfully of possible skating. +At present it was too damp, but the temperature +was falling fast; a good hard frost—</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He hoped Kitty and Anthony were not going +to fall out on their wedding day; neither +of them made any suitable response to the +possibility of frost. These hasty rushes into +marriage usually ended in bad temper.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry congratulated himself inwardly on +his escapes from matrimony. They had never +been narrow escapes. He had foreseen the +danger a long way off, but they had been complete. +People were likely to turn out unsatisfactory +at close quarters, especially women. +Women were romantic, and when they were +married they were incessant, and it took a very +strong digestion to stand incessant romance. +That was the worst of marriage; you couldn’t +turn away from it with a good conscience.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Of course Anthony had made the situation +a great deal more difficult than it need have +been. Miss Costrelle was perfectly charming, +but none of her charms were domestic, +and all of them were undoubtedly a shade too +obvious. She reminded Henry of a picture in +the Wallace Collection. It was a portrait of +Perdita Robinson with a muff. Perdita Robinson +hadn’t been very domestic, either.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty smiled across at him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I know what you’re thinking,” she said +alarmingly. “You’re like the man in the +Bible who thanked God he wasn’t as other men +were. You know the proper kind of wife is +a bother, and the kind of wife who wouldn’t be +a bother—that’s me; you know, Tony—isn’t +a proper kind of wife at all. Confess you were +thinking something like that, Henry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Few men can be so fortunate as Anthony,” +replied Henry with skilled irrelevancy; but he +was glad when they reached the Carlton.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If Kitty had been guilty of a gust of bad +temper, it left her as she entered the hotel. +The big, smart lounge was like home to her. +She drew in a long breath of the slightly stale, +slightly scented air as if it refreshed her. She +knew exactly how to hold herself in public. +She was more conscious than any Englishwoman +is by nature, and more trained than any +Englishwoman allows herself to be to hide her +consciousness. Her studied spontaneity gave +an impression of perfect ease, which is the seal +of the true artist.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The Carlton was Kitty’s sphere; in a moment +she had seen and mastered the human +material in the lounge. No other woman there +held men’s eyes as Kitty held them. She +moved slowly, with little pauses, in exactly +the right space and light. With each brief +phrase she threw at Henry or Anthony she +was aware first of its effect upon them, and +then in the widening circles of a disturbed pool +she noted the further effect spreading throughout +the room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle rose slowly from behind a +palm and greeted his guests phlegmatically. +His eyes ran over Kitty with a steady critical +appreciation. Anthony saw with a pang of +pure surprise that at the moment it mattered +more to Mr. Costrelle that Kitty should be +dressed properly than that she shouldn’t look +ill.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She did not look ill to the ordinary spectator, +who failed to take account of the carefully +hidden signs. She was made up with finished +and unerring skill. Her picture-hat, with its +thick, shaded plumes of dull pale pink, softened +the outlines of her face. She carried her +head as if she had never known physical +fatigue.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had what other women missed, the +art of personality. Nothing that she did miscarried, +and no movement of her fine, supple +body was without significance. To-day she +was more alive than Anthony had ever seen +her; differently alive, for it was not the life +of her inner self: it was the directed energy of +a trained workman performing his task.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle led them to the table he had +prepared for them. He had chosen the most +public and visible spot in the room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty sat down with her back to the light, +and smiled at him across a bowl of mauve and +pale-pink carnations. Her smile was like a +signal between two trained performers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle had done his part. The meal +was perfect. He had ordered a few dishes, +each one the best and most delicate of its kind. +He had chosen two sound wines, and crowned +them with the Château Yquêm, which lay in a +basket beside him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was now Kitty’s turn to play hers. She +must be entertaining enough to keep everything +going, and not so absorbing as to interfere +with a due appreciation of the food. She +must make each man feel at his best for not +too long at a time, and without interfering +with the attractions of the other men. She +must also make all the other women in the room +jealous and their men envious.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony, with his heart on the rack, watched +her with grim concern. Everything in the +big, spacious room was utterly unreal to him: +its little tables, its flowers, its groups of well-dressed +people. Their idleness, their privileges, +their evocation of temporary tastes, revolted +and amazed him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For years he had lived hard and thought continuously, +he had seen pain and struggled with +it as the man in the Laocoon struggles with +the presence of the coiled serpent; and these +people lived dead against the image of pain, +even when, as in Kitty’s case, it hung poised +above them ready to strike; they blinded themselves +against the issues of life. They spent +money and time and strength on expensive +clothes and foods and endless reiterations and +repetitions of unnecessary, unenlightening +words.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Sometimes Anthony caught a clever phrase. +Mr. Costrelle and Kitty herself were often +inadvertently witty, but they had not set out +to be, and they never let it go very far. They +wanted to entertain, but they hadn’t any notion +of sticking to an idea; it did not seem +to them very entertaining to stick to anything +for long.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty sat there discussing a notorious career +with clipped expert phrases—the career of a +woman she didn’t know, a mere bagatelle out +of a newspaper—and she was within a few +hours of the sharpest of personal struggles, she +was even now menaced by acute and driving +pain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony saw the shadow of it in her eyes, +and heard in the faint hardness of her laughter, +the effort of her self-control.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were wasting their few hours, that tiny +margin left to them, on a dish called “<span class='it'>les jeunes +demoiselles</span>,” a careful preparation of shell-less +craw-fish in a cream sauce. Kitty’s eyes rested +on Anthony for a moment, but only with the +genial audacity with which they passed on to +Henry. They had no message for him. She +acquiesced in the <span class='it'>jeunes demoiselles</span>.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A smart, good-looking man, whose attention +had been riveted on their table for some +time, rose, and crossed the room to speak to +Kitty. His eyes had a look in them which was +like the sudden assertion of a claim.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“What luck!” he exclaimed as he reached +them. “Who in the world would have expected +you here?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“And why not here?” asked Kitty, with a +veiled challenge in her laughing eyes. “It’s +very jolly and comfortable and not unknown, +I believe, as a European resort. You know +my father, don’t you? This is my husband—Captain +Arden. Sir Frederick Stair.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The claim in Sir Frederick’s eyes sharpened +into incredulity. He turned from Kitty to +Anthony. Anthony met and returned his hard +critical gaze.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The two men measured each other, and +Kitty, leaning back in her chair, watched them +with unconcealed amusement.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Mr. Costrelle poured out a glass of wine imperturbably. +The situation appealed to him; +he liked to watch Kitty handle a difficult moment.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry cleared his throat. He was not sure +that everything was quite comfortable, and he +was annoyed that Sir Frederick had apparently +forgotten playing bridge with him some time +ago at the club.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” said Sir Frederick at last, with his +eyes still on Anthony. “We haven’t run +across each other before, I think?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We have not been particularly likely to,” +said Anthony, a little dryly. “I spent most of +the war in a German prison.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was in Egypt,” said Sir Frederick. “A +good deal going on there one way or another. +Where does one find you now, Mrs. Arden? +I can’t afford to have you disappear again. +But perhaps you will be more permanent now +that you’re married?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think I shall ever be awfully permanent,” +said Kitty, closing her long eyelashes +together and then opening them suddenly. +“We’re just passing through town.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Sir Frederick’s eyebrows shot up. He was +being dismissed, and he had not expected dismissal. +Kitty smiled at him. Her smile was +reassuring to his pride.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Stupid things, her kind eyes said, had intervened. +She didn’t like dismissing him, +either; but still she dismissed him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I was fortunate,” he said politely, “to have +caught even this glimpse.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty gave him her hand. Mr. Costrelle +mentioned his club.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Sir Frederick threw back a very fine pair +of shoulders, bowed stiffly to Anthony, and +walked away.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had been perfectly polite and he had +shown Kitty no sign of disrespect, perhaps he +had been a shade more respectful than a man +need be to a woman for whom no other idea had +ever occurred.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“An odd coincidence,” said Mr. Costrelle, +“Stair turning up to-day. I shall now open +the Château Yquêm.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He took up a small napkin and the best type +of corkscrew in silence, and with great precaution +he first held and then detached the +cork, handing it round to each in turn to catch +the perfume which clung to it; then with unfaltering +gravity he poured out the four +glasses. The wine was golden and as soft as +honey; the dry fire in it had blended with the +ripening touch of time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They drank in silence and without a toast. +Anthony raised his eyes to Kitty, but she was +not looking at him. She was smiling, but her +lips were grave. Some memory or perhaps +some premonition held her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think,” said Mr. Costrelle, slowly +and gravely, “that you can beat this wine now +in England.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“The war has done a dreadful lot of harm,” +agreed Henry, sympathetically. “Priceless +wine has been parted with—I believe rashly—to +Americans.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“People who can take wine like this across +the Atlantic,” said Mr. Costrelle, “deserve to +drink nothing but their own raw grapes.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s been simply awfully jolly, Papa +dear,” said Kitty, drawing on her gloves; “but +I suppose we must be off. I’ve enjoyed myself +immensely.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty lingered in the lounge. She liked +watching the throngs of people passing in and +out. The veiled admiration of the men, the +covert glances of the women, eased her heart. +After all, it was her world. She had succeeded +in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She said good-by laughingly to Henry and +her father. Henry’s appreciation of the lunch +had brought Mr. Costrelle to offering him one +of his best cigars.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll see you next week, I dare say,” Mr. +Costrelle observed to Kitty. “That dead pink +is a good shade, especially with sable.” And +to Anthony he added, “You might perhaps +ring me up sometime.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry shook hands warmly with them both. +Anthony had, after all, done nothing out of +the way, and Kitty had been perfect—perfect, +that is, as another man’s wife. For Henry +himself she would have had to be a little toned +down.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When they were alone in the motor, Kitty +turned to Anthony with appealing eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You didn’t mind awfully, did you?” she +asked quickly. “You see, after all, Tony, it <span class='it'>is</span> +the only kind of thing I know how to do.”</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>For the last three days before the operation +Anthony had succeeded in warding +off from Kitty any fresh attack of pain. He +had studied her with an absorption as acute as +the absorption of personal consciousness in the +presence of mortal danger. All his senses had +been alert to forewarn and protect Kitty, and +he had accomplished the temporary miracle.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After the luncheon party, Anthony noticed +with alarm that she showed that peculiar +physical restlessness which is often the forerunner +of severe pain. He made Kitty go to bed, +and sat beside her hour after hour, soothing +and quieting her. Peckham had been invaluable; +she had brought out various garments +of Kitty’s for correction and comparison. +She had been full of stories of Kitty’s childhood, +and questions about their going abroad. +It had been settled that as soon as Kitty recovered +from the operation they were to go to +Spain.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>At last Anthony had left her quiet and apparently +asleep. He went into the dressing-room +next to hers, leaving the door open so +that he could hear her turn or sigh. He felt +that he must be alone for an hour. All these +days his mind had been taking bitter account +of the symptoms ranged against him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>This was his hour of reckoning. He knew +that he had done all that was in his power; +he had given Kitty a respite before the operation, +but he could do no more: the disease was +progressive and inexorable. Anthony saw +with a terrific clarity the force of all that was +against him. The symptoms of Kitty’s case +came on against his mind like the resistless +impact of waves. If he succeeded in beating +the first line of breakers, the limitless ocean +heaved up a further challenge. His puny +strength would spend itself against them in +vain; sooner or later the sea would overwhelm +them both.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was too late to save Kitty. Anthony did +not need Hilton Laurence’s verdict; something +in his own heart suddenly failed him. He saw +that he had done his utmost in the last few +days, and that his utmost was worth nothing. +He wondered fearfully, if he had been a +younger man, untried and undaunted by experience, +could he by mere audacity and blindness +have snatched Kitty back from disease? +Suffering is not a school of strength; it is a +school in which one learns one’s weakness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew what he could bear, and to +that extent knowledge freed his mind; he was +not surprised by the weight of pain. He was +too used to it, but he was incapable in his turn +of surprising pain. He had learned not only +his powers, but his limitations. Facts entrapped +and hampered him. He was aware +of the frailness of his mind; strung to too high +a pitch, it would not give him any reassurance +of its capacity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Ever since the early days of Anthony’s captivity +darkness had broken in upon him from +time to time and shaken the steadiness of his +mind. He knew the only thing to do was to +wait till it passed, to keep before his eyes the +fact that the darkness was from outside and +impermanent, and to hold to the integrity of +his unflinching will.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In the long run, what Anthony had decided +to do he could do; he could not attain the desired +result, but he could force himself step by +step to take the right direction toward the result. +He held to his will now, but he was +aware that the struggle was harder. He +needed more for Kitty than he had ever +needed for himself.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He steadied his mind to confront the future. +He wanted to envisage the whole course +of Kitty’s case. He had to put out of his mind +the insistent pictures of the operating-table, +the arrangements he had made with Hilton +Laurence, the minute preparations and precautions +for the actual hour. The details kept +rushing at him like delusive lists of uncompleted +purchases. He knew there was no need +for him to keep them in his mind, but they +flickered to and fro, taunting him with his +fallibility.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Suppose he forgot something important, +something vital? Kitty depended on his +memory, and his memory was outrageously +tired. It played Anthony tricks to show him +how tired he was, and then with a gloomy +clearness it reiterated a string of details none +of which he needed or could control. He did +not want to use his memory now. He wanted +to get beyond it to some point of decision. +If he could not save Kitty, what should he +do?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If he let things take their course, Anthony +saw exactly what would take place. There +would be the operation, a tedious, dangerous +business, which must in the nature of the case +be left incomplete. Moment by moment Kitty’s +life would hang by a thread. Hilton +Laurence would hold the threads. Anthony +could trust the task to him; he was a masterly +operator with a thorough, placid mind. He +had been known in moments of great tension +to hold the ends of a severed artery together +and tell a funny story to relieve the nerves +of his audience. Probably Hilton Laurence +would safely disentangle and keep together +the threads of Kitty’s life. She would, what +is called, get over the operation.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her left arm would be powerless for a long +time. She would suffer again regularly and +without strength the onslaughts of atrocious +pain. Kitty would very gradually get better +up to a certain point; then she would stick +for perhaps two or three months; then the +little innocuous-seeming, deadly signs of a return +would start up. The disease would be +very quick on its returning pathway, and, short +of the mercy of an accident, it would be very +dreadful.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Words from “The Duchess of Malfi” +haunted Anthony’s mind: “her death a hideous +storm of terror.” Was that all he could do +for Kitty?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It wasn’t any use fighting for her life. The +question was a smaller one than that—he was +only fighting for time. Fighting for life, with +every symptom set plainly against you, was +only fighting for a convention, an idea. But +this convention was a sacred one to Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was a professional necessity, a point of +honor to prolong menaced existences. It was +not a real necessity; because, unlike real necessities, +he had in his hands the power to evade +it. Nor could Anthony delude himself with +the mercy of an accident. He had no talent +for self-delusion, and he had seen too many +cases where there were no accidents.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>If all he wanted was to save Kitty, why +couldn’t he still save her by letting her go? +Why force her through a year of misery, with +its shadowed horror at the end? Why not +now, on the top of the course of her momentary +security, grant her freedom?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>But had he the right to let her go? She +would have let herself go without a qualm—it +was only her confidence in his love, her pity +for him, which held her back. But who was +he to judge what was best for Kitty? He +could not see the sky for the stars, nor her body +for her soul. All his being was invaded by his +tenderness for Kitty; there was no desire in +her which did not meet in him with a passion +of response. He did not know what she most +wanted now; her reticent, shy spirit was buried +under all the haphazard promiscuities of her +life. Kitty had fenced it away not only from +Anthony, but from herself. She had snatched +at the trivial to cover the eternal.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He longed desperately at this moment of her +great ordeal to stand by her spirit, as he stood +by her beleaguered body, and help it forth upon +the chartless seas. Was it fair to set this child +soul free? Fear of her anguish and her mortal +struggle bit deep into his heart, but he had a +deeper fear, a deeper question, to which he +found no answer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He sat torn with his indecision; then he heard +her voice murmuring, “Tony! Tony!” and +went back into the lighted circle of her room.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room was full of flowers and shaded +wax candles. Kitty sat up in bed with long +plaits of dark hair down her back. She looked +like a child of ten, a very frightened child.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Tony,” she said, “Tony, it’s the pain coming—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her eyes fastened themselves on his with a +look of shaken entreaty—then they left him, +to wander restlessly about the room, as if to +hold and keep all the safety of the inanimate +things beside which her own existence was so +fugitive and insecure.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony gave her a slight sedative, and lay +down beside her, taking her hand in his. He +felt his old power flow back into him to meet +her emergencies. He fixed his mind steadily +upon Kitty’s pain, and held it as the one point +upon which his whole conscious being hung. +He meant to take her pain away, reduce it, +and keep it from her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had never yet succeeded in moving pain +by his will; he had only helped by his actual +services to relinquish the grip of it. The experiment +he tried now was different. He determined +literally to <span class='it'>take</span> Kitty’s pain. He +felt as if in the room beside them there was another +strength more formidable than his own +fighting for Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He did not know what the power was, but +he was aware of it to his finger-tips. It seemed +to be tearing at Kitty as desperate hands tear +at a wall between themselves and safety. It +was as if the power in the room wanted to take +Kitty’s life to pieces in order that something +behind her life might escape.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It did not occur to Anthony that this was +a benevolent power, for Anthony did not believe +that there was anything behind Kitty’s +life; he was concerned only with what he saw, +the inert and pain-stricken body beside him. +Kitty spoke no word; only her eyes moved—moved +as the eyes move of some one who is +searching for something which they cannot +find.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It was an unhurried, implacable search. +Kitty herself knew nothing of it. She lay still +with her small, stubborn mouth set to bear her +pain, and all her faith centered upon Anthony.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>For an hour the fight went on between Anthony +and his unseen opponent, and then suddenly +he felt it relax; the power, whatever it +was, had withdrawn. Anthony knew instinctively +that he had not conquered. This had +been a voluntary retreat; but it was Anthony, +and not the retreating power, who was exhausted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m better,” Kitty said in a thin, flickering +voice; “much better, Tony. I’ve not been better +so quickly for a long time.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony did not answer at once. He was +too aware of a swift, massive pain set like a +vise upon his arm and shoulder. He was astonished +at the violence of this sensation, but +his reason quickly supplied a cause. He had +removed Kitty’s pain by hypnosis, and had +weakened himself too much in the process to +be able to defend himself against the hysterical +reaction of his own body.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He assured himself that he could not really +have taken Kitty’s pain, but he could, of course, +really think he had taken it. This was the +true explanation, and not the delusion which +suggested itself to Anthony, that the power he +had felt himself struggling against had agreed +to transfer the pain in answer to his own intensity.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Lie quite still, Kitty,” he said, “while I +make you a cup of tea. You want something +to make you warm and comfortable after that +attack.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’re awfully clever, Tony,” she murmured. +“I want to ask you something rather +queer. You won’t mind, will you? What is +there ahead of me to-morrow if—if things don’t +go right?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“They will go right,” said Anthony, quietly, +lighting the spirit-lamp. “I am quite positive +of it, or I shouldn’t have suggested the operation. +What is it you mean exactly by—‘ahead +of you’?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well,” Kitty explained, “you know, when +you set out on a railway journey, how quickly +everything changes, and you don’t. What +I mean is, what will happen if nothing else +changes, and you <span class='it'>do</span>? Or shall I just be +dead?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s mind shot back to Tom. It was +curious how he and Kitty claimed with the +same simplicity and without dread a prospect +beyond mortality.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Tom had felt it more solidly than Kitty, +but neither of them had had Anthony’s blank +incredulity in the face of the invisible. How +could he believe what nobody could prove or +see? And yet, since he had answered Tom’s +question, he had felt his skepticism shaken +over and over again. He was no longer sure +that there was nothing else.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I used to think,” said Anthony, slowly, +watching Kitty’s face as he chose his words +to meet her need, “that there was nothing beyond +death, that all our struggles and our +troubles ceased automatically. I am not so +sure now. When I thought like that I hadn’t +been in love. There was nothing in my life +that felt it wanted to reach beyond it. I can +imagine now something stronger than death. +I don’t say there <span class='it'>is</span> something stronger, but +I can imagine it. You see, I don’t know how +to put it quite, but since I’ve known you, I’ve +cared, cared all round a lot more for everybody. +Before I only knew things from the +outside. My work was as good as I could +make it, but I always stood outside it. Since +I cared for you, lots of me gets inside. It +isn’t only liking to make a success; it’s caring +for a person. It’s you, Kitty, who have +given me that feeling.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Have I really?” asked Kitty, incredulously. +“How nice of you to tell me, Tony. I +should have thought I’d put you off. I’ve +put off most people. I’m awfully glad you +care more because of me. I care, too; that’s +what rather upsets me just now. I’m not +afraid a bit, but I do feel sorry. I see now I +must have done such a lot of harm not caring. +I don’t believe my doing all the things I +oughtn’t really matters, do you?</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“But not having cared enough about the +people I did them with, that’s all wrong, and +having hurt poor women who loved their men, +that’s rather awful, isn’t it? I don’t like to +think of hurting people now I know what being +hurt is like. Besides, if there is a God, +I suppose we’re all in the same boat and part +of Him; so the worst thing we can do is to +hurt each other, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony nodded. He did not attempt to +evade Kitty’s scruples. Brushing aside truth +did not seem to him a kindness.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“We all do it,” he said gently, “some of us +from being too strict with our lives, so that +we feel better than other people, and are worse, +and perhaps those who haven’t been strict +enough—hurt as well. Because, if you +haven’t counted the cost, other people have to +pay as well as you. Still, you’ve paid a good +deal by now, Kitty, and I suppose, if there +is a God, what matters most, is to have learned +love and courage. I don’t see anything else I +want to carry on myself into another world, +and you’ve had plenty of those. If you do +go out anywhere, you’ll take them both with +you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty drew his hand against her cheek.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll take love with me,” she said, “now, +Tony.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They were silent while Kitty drank her tea, +then she said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m awfully sleepy, Tony, but it seems such +a waste of time to go to sleep.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He bent over her and kissed her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Go to sleep,” he said. “There’s plenty of +time really for everything, and it will make +to-morrow better.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow,” said Kitty after a little pause, +“is just a sort of adventure, isn’t it, Tony? +It’ll be awfully funny if you and the monks +and Peckham and I all come out some day +in the same place. Can you hear the bell? +They go and pray in the church at two o’clock.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony listened from the open window. +He heard very faintly the signal of the monks +for their first prayers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty turned towards him, smiling, and she +was still smiling when Anthony saw that she +was asleep. Anthony’s mind stilled itself, and +turned once more to meet its new ordeal.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had determined what to do. Just as he +had taken her pain, so he would take her life; +he would take everything that menaced her, +and dispose of it. It did not matter what the +consequences were or what the risk; they would +fall upon him and upon him alone. Kitty +should go forth upon that great adventure +freed of her pain and of the long year’s waiting.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was intensely sure of himself now, +and he was aware of nothing else with which he +had to reckon.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty slept placidly till six o’clock. She +was not aware of Anthony’s leaving her +or of his whispered conversation with Peckham +at her door. She woke to a bright fire and her +morning tea with a sense of unusual security. +Peckham always lit her fire early and brought +her tea, but that was usually after a bad night, +and this had been a good one. Kitty’s arm +and shoulder felt numb and stiff from the recent +attack, but mere discomfort was a small +thing after acute pain. It was a minute or +two before Kitty remembered that the day +held a new experience for her. Her nerves +rose unfalteringly to meet it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Well, Peckham,” she said, “is it a nice day? +Am I to have nothing to eat, just when I’m +hungry?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s Captain Arden’s orders, Miss +Kitty,” said Peckham, firmly, “and I don’t +need to have starched caps and aprons to carry +them out. It’s not many gentlemen would +have been wishful to do their nursing themselves, +with me by way of being hands and +feet to them, when they could have had all the +certificated sisters, or whatever they call themselves, +and welcome. If I’d been his mother, +Captain Arden couldn’t be more considerate +of my feelings, and I can’t say a word to thank +him, Miss Kitty. I should say Ma’am, for +fear of not looking like flint, the way the young +ladies do in the hospitals.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Dear old Peckham!” said Kitty. “I’ll tell +him you’re pleased. Is the cook down-stairs +giving him a good breakfast?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I dare say he’ll be able to eat it,” said +Peckham, dubiously. “I don’t wish to say +anything about other people’s servants at a +moment like this, Miss Kitty; I will only remark +that they mean well and leave it at that. +The h’omlette the cook made him last night +looked trod on, and the tweeny maid wears +corsets that pinch her to the bone, and scamps +her work according, as well she may. Only +one cup of tea, please, Miss Kitty, Captain +Arden says, and then to lie still till he comes +up to you. You’re not to have no hair pins +in, and stockings you must. I wish I could +have gone in with you, my dear lamb, but the +captain says he’ll take care of you there himself.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Pooh!” said Kitty, “I sha’n’t need any +taking care of. Don’t make faces at me, Peckham. +I know you want to say something religious +to me, and I don’t like religion first +thing in the morning. Have you brought in +the lace cap with the butterflies on and my best +lawn nightgown? I’ll wear my blue satin +dressing-gown with the old lace collar.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I ironed the butterfly cap last night, Miss +Kitty,” said Peckham, severely, “though I +must say I think it out of place, butterflies not +being what you should call upon in a time like +the present.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know about that, Peckham,” said +Kitty. “You’re no more likely to suit eternity +plain than pretty; rather less, I should +think. However, I’ll turn up here all right +again, don’t you fret. I shall just buzz off +and then buzz back again, and don’t forget I +want the paste buckles on the blue slippers.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham produced the blue slippers.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You stick to Captain Arden, whatever happens,” +Kitty added; “he’ll take care of you. +Papa’s no good, poor old thing! I dare say +he’d like to be, but he’s like me; he has expensive +tastes. Is that you, Tony? Come in +and see what I look like. It’s a pity you +aren’t going to have more doctors. I shall be +rather wasted on only two of you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed at him from the fireside. She +stood there, blue and white, like one of the June +butterflies that haunt the down country.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You haven’t seen my post,” she said. +“Henry has sent me pink roses, and your +mother a box of her own flowers, the flame-color +cyclamen I love so. It was too sweet of +her. And here’s a wire from Daphne. ‘All +love and sympathy. Coming up to-morrow.’ +Of course you must stop her; their baby’s +nearly due, isn’t it? But tell her I was awfully +glad she wanted to come; but I’ll tell +her that myself, of course, later on. Your +people are most awfully nice, Tony. I’m not +surprised—” Kitty broke off suddenly. She +was going to say that she was not surprised he +had not wanted her to know them, but it might +hurt him to remember this now; so she said instead: +“I’m not surprised. You’re rather +nice yourself.” She looked up at him with the +old provocative light in her eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony drew her to an arm-chair by the +fire.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t mean you to get dressed so soon,” +he said gently. “Hilton Laurence may be a +little late.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He sat down opposite her, and Kitty drew a +cigarette out of a long silver box, lit it, and put +it between his lips.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’ll feel happier smoking,” she said +kindly. “Men always feel so stupid before +things happen; they don’t know what to do +with their minds. It must be specially boring +if they’re clever like you, Tony, because then +they expect to say such awfully good things, +and no one can say good things at last moments.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know that I want to say anything +good,” said Anthony; “but it’s true there are +things I’d like to say to you.” He spoke as +unemotionally as possible, but the words forced +themselves out of him.</p> + +<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'> +<img src='images/ill005.jpg' alt='Smiling woman stands in room' id='img05' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/> +<p class='caption'><span class='it'>Like one of the June butterflies that haunt the down country.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class='pindent'>He could not let her go without a sign into +the dark. She would never hear or speak to +him again, because before she had recovered +from the operation, when they had left Kitty +in his care, he intended to inject sufficient +morphia to prevent her coming round. He +had the syringe in his pocket now, and as he +looked across at her, his mind was registering +the weight of the moments which lay between +her life and his action.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You do trust me, Kitty?” he asked her in +a low voice—“trust me to do what I think best +for you?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty laughed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” she said gently; “you’ll always do +right, poor old thing. Perhaps I might be +afraid of what’s right, but I couldn’t be afraid +you wouldn’t do it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t be afraid, Kitty,” said Anthony, +holding her eyes. “I should do what +was wrong without hesitation if I thought it +could help you.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“That’s nice of you,” said Kitty, appreciatively. +“I like people to say they don’t mind +what they do for me; but, still, don’t do wrong. +It would only make you feel uncomfortable. +I shall get on all right. D’you like my +buckles?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony said he did like her buckles.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The room seemed full of the clumsiness of +great moments. There was so much that lay +unachieved between them, everything, except +the slender thread of their strange tenderness. +Anthony found that he could say no more; his +heart was dumb. He took her in his arms and +kissed her. He was intensely aware of her +life, of the response in her, the supple sweetness +of her youth and its surrender; and deeper +still he was aware that his own strength, which +he held back for the sake of her frailness, was +as incomplete to hold or protect her as if he +had been a cripple.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her slight, delicate body dragged at the root +of his being. Her eyes smiled into his, sunny, +dauntless, challenging eyes, as laughing as an +open stream.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There,” she said, “off you go to meet your +old wise men. Don’t worry about me. It’ll +amuse me to think of all the funny things +that may be going to happen in another half-hour.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony forced himself to leave her, but his +whole being resisted his will. He felt himself +one with Kitty; to go from her was like falling +over a cliff.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He guessed by the slam of the front door +that Hilton Laurence had arrived. He bent +his head to meet her lips and left her. It was +a cold, black morning. The little, empty room +Anthony had arranged as a theater was very +hot and light, a large fire burned at red heat, +and all the lights were on.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You’d better have a pick-me-up,” Hilton +Laurence observed to Anthony after they had +made their brief arrangements.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t need one,” said Anthony, quietly. +“Shall I fetch her?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Laurence nodded.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“It’s a rum job not having a nurse,” said +the anesthetist, fretfully. “I do dislike innovations +in an operation case.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, as long as your tools are handy, +and you have a man with a head on to stand by +you,” said Laurence, cheerfully, “it’s all the +same in the end. Nurses have a nice look and +save a good deal of bother, especially with a +nervous patient. But this isn’t a nervous patient. +She’s had a lot to fight through, poor +little woman!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“For a long job like this, chloroform is +the most satisfactory,” said the anesthetist. +“However, we can start with a mixture and +see how she stands it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The amazing vision of Kitty broke off their +conversation. She had never looked prettier +in her life. The long, blue gown, the butterfly +cap, the delicately reddened lips, brought out +the intensity of her great, dark eyes, alive with +spirit and laughter. She wrinkled up her nose +as she entered.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You poor old things! how hot you have +made it for yourselves!” she said. “I shall +soon be the only comfortable person in the +room.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She shook hands with Laurence and the +anesthetist, and with a quick movement sprang +sidewise to the table, swinging her feet toward +the floor.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“You didn’t think I could do that with one +arm in a sling, did you?” she asked gaily. +“That’s the advantage of being light.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her breathing came as swiftly and easily as +a child’s. Anthony stood on one side of her, +his hand on her wrist, and the anesthetist on the +other.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Her eyes smiled across the table at Hilton +Laurence, and then closed. She opened them +as the anesthetist, satisfied by his examination, +began to give her his last directions in soothing +professional tones. Her lips curved in a faint +mocking smile. She looked away from him to +Anthony; behind the laughter in her eyes was a +sudden gleam of reassurance. It was as if her +spirit gathered itself up together and called +to him not for help, but to give him help. She +had never said in words that she loved him, but +her eyes said it now, definitely, completely, +without wavering. Then they closed finally +and did not open again.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’s off like a bird,” said the anesthetist, +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence reappeared from behind a +screen ready to begin his task. No one spoke +for a time.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then Anthony became aware that there was +another presence in the room. It was the +same power he had fought the night before.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>It filled the room with a strange, preliminary +tension before it began to act.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s outer attention was fixed upon +Laurence’s needs, but his inner faculties concentrated +to encounter this new element. As +he did so, he discovered that the whole force of +his centered will was useless. Hilton Laurence +and his unrivaled skill, the anesthetist +and his intent watchfulness, were nothing +against this unseen power; they were blown before +it like leaves in a wind.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>In a moment of terrible despair Anthony +felt himself flung back and beaten before the +battle had begun. The unseen force had +swept them all aside and broken its way into +the life of Kitty. There was a moment of suspense, +and then as quickly as his despair there +shot into Anthony’s brain an amazing and +sharp relief.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He knew in a flash that this power was not +an enemy. It was true it tore to pieces the +husk of the beloved life, but mercy was at the +root of the destruction. It was tearing her +to pieces because the pieces were in the way, +life itself was in the way of Kitty; and Anthony +became aware that what he thought was +his enemy was an immense reinforcement.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Once more he centered his will in the struggle, +but he went with the stream now and no +longer threw his impotence against it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He alone was aware of the unseen power, +but he saw the others moving at its bidding.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony knew what had happened to Kitty +before the eyes of the anesthetist had caught +the sudden change. He leaned forward and +said quietly—he heard the words slip out into +the room without effort or excitement—“She’s +gone.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Hilton Laurence, bending over a severed +vein, said:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense! my dear chap, keep your head. +She’s as right as rain.” But he looked up +sharply as the anesthetist cried:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“By Jove! he’s right! She’s gone!”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony stood by them curiously unconcerned, +while Laurence and the anesthetist +tried one after the other their useless remedies. +He obeyed their flung directions automatically, +threw open the window, drew out the oxygen-cylinder, +and filled it; but there was no flicker +of a response.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had prepared everything. Nothing had +been forgotten or overlooked, and all the time +they used their ineffectual, puny efforts over +Kitty’s little broken body, Anthony felt his +heart singing within him. They could not set +back the clock. Kitty had escaped them. She +was no longer there.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Swiftly, simply as the lift of a gull’s wing, +she had flown, and not for anything in all the +world would Anthony have recalled her.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>After a time Hilton Laurence turned away +from the table.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m awfully sorry, old boy,” he said defensively. +“You see for yourself, don’t you—it’s +no damned good?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure I don’t understand it,” said the +anesthetist more defensively still. “I took +every precaution. I’ve never had a case slip +like that before. It’s most disconcerting. I +needn’t say, Arden, I’m most terribly sorry.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>They stood looking at Anthony like school-boys +detected in crime by the head-master. +Anthony turned away his face so that they +could not see the triumph in his eyes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Of course you did everything,” he said reassuringly, +“everything you could. I am perfectly +satisfied that nothing could have saved +her. The lungs were not working properly, +and the heart couldn’t carry on. It was always +a risk, but I feel we were justified in +trying it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“More than justified,” said Laurence in a +relieved tone. “In my opinion it would have +been criminal not to have tried. I am most +thankful, my dear boy, you can see it all so +sanely.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I think I’ll carry her back into her room +now,” said Anthony, uncertainly.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The two men stood aside to let him pass +with his light burden.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham was standing by the bed in Kitty’s +room. He laid her down without speaking, +and looked across at Peckham.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“She’s all right,” he said gently; “more all +right now than we could ever have made her, +Peckham.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham bowed her head.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” she murmured between her sobs. +“I felt she was going to be took. She do look +just as she did, poor lamb, when she was a +little girl, sir. One couldn’t, if I may say so, +take her naughtiness to heart, and I can’t go +for to believe the good Lord will be any +harder.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Then Peckham left him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He was alone now with his wife. She was +broken like a toy by the hand of science to +which he had entrusted her. All his desires +were frustrated and his endeavors destroyed. +He had not even saved Kitty. Something else +had intervened to save her. Anthony was not +aware of this power now; the unresponsiveness +of death closed down on him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>His eyes fixed themselves on Kitty’s little +lace cap made in the shape of butterflies, and +this last futility broke his heart.</p> + +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<p class='pindent'>Grief slows all the processes of time. +To Anthony it might have been weeks +that he had been alone with silence in Kitty’s +empty room, and yet it was only two hours before +Henry, calling to inquire for Kitty, became +aware of what had taken place.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry was aghast to discover that nothing +had been done. He had not been telephoned +for. Anthony, though a doctor, had ignored +the urgencies of death.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Peckham, who had made tea twice, but never +even knocked at Kitty’s door, had received +no instructions. Anthony remained for two +hours, “apparently,” as Henry said to himself, +“brooding.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry always considered time spent upon +thought as “brooding,” unless it was accompanied +by paper, a writing-table, and ink; then +it became thinking.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>When Anthony came down-stairs, Henry +was surprised to observe no outward change in +him. He bore none of the marks of grief, and +he was uninclined to speak in a hushed voice.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry came forward with an outstretched +hand.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“My dear fellow,” he said in a low tone, “I +am shocked and distressed beyond words.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Of course Henry was not distressed beyond +words. Words did very nicely for him. He +was, as a matter of fact, intensely relieved.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Providence had acted, as it could only occasionally +be relied upon to act, with considerable +tact and promptitude.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Perhaps the promptitude was a little overdone; +six weeks later, considering the date of +the marriage, would have been less startling +and no less convenient. But Henry was prepared +to overlook this slight lapse of taste on +the part of the higher powers in view of the +fact that they had carried out his main intention. +They had got rid of Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry was not, however, in the least prepared +for Anthony’s saying in an offhand +tone:</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I suppose it was the best possible +thing, really,” quite as if he were answering +Henry’s thoughts and not his words. Henry +was sorry for Kitty, he had been charmed by +her, and he was readily sorry for those who +were capable of charming him; but the fact +remained that Kitty was not respectable and +that all Ardens married respectable women. +Now that Kitty was dead, he thought it would +have been better taste on Anthony’s part not +to refer to her disabilities. To admit death +as a solution was, Henry felt, a direct slur upon +Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Let’s have something to eat,” Anthony unexpectedly +suggested. “Peckham, have you +got some tea hot for us?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir,” said Peckham, fluttering, but +justified. “It’s in the dining-room now, sir, +and an egg, if you could face it.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I’ll eat anything you’ve got,” said Anthony +with conviction. He did not even have +to be tempted.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Henry felt a little bitterly how much more +devastating grief would have been to him. He +had had his lunch two hours earlier, and he did +not want tea now; though Kitty had only been +his sister-in-law.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I thought, perhaps,” he said gravely, “I +might be of use to you, my dear fellow. There +are certain things—”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I know,” interrupted Anthony, who +was standing to eat his food in a thoroughly +uncomfortable, restless way by the door. +“There are heaps of things—telegrams, undertakers, +the registrar. I’d be awfully obliged +if you’d do them for me. Hilton Laurence +said he’d look in and help later. I want to go +out for a walk.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“People will expect to hear from you direct,” +suggested Henry, who did not think that +widowers should go for walks before the +funeral.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Sign my name, do anything you like,” said +Anthony, hastily. “She hadn’t any wishes. +Will you see Costrelle for me? Don’t interrupt +his bridge; he plays between five and +seven-thirty.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“On an occasion like this—” said Henry, +severely. He was going to give up his own +bridge.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes, I know,” said Anthony, hurriedly; +“but Costrelle doesn’t think in occasions; +he won’t like being interrupted. It’s +awfully good of you, my dear old chap, to do +these things for me. I think—I think I must +get out.”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“There will be certain questions which you +alone can decide,” said Henry. “When shall +I expect you back?”</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony looked for the first time as if he +was a little changed. He fumbled perceptibly +for an answer.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know what time it is now,” he said +jerkily, and without waiting for Henry to tell +him he walked out into the hall, shutting the +door after him.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The day had grown unexpectedly mild and +sunny. Anthony walked listlessly and without +any definite direction. He wanted to get +to some open space where people would cease to +pour past him like part of a great procession. +He found himself at last by the river. The +light lay faint and thin over its gray waters, +gleaming with a pale, transparent silver upon +the distant towers of Westminster. The huddled, +low waterside houses looked full of the +stubborn comfort and unconsciousness of +England. Westminster brooded high and +bright above a flock of little, ugly dwelling-places. +There was no background to the ancient +river but the smoke from factory chimneys +and the low, dim sky.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony was not aware of his grief, but he +was aware of a great desire, a compulsion of +his inner being, to get away from all pity and +arrangements. He wanted to place between +himself and Kitty’s death a host of less immediate +objects.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>The towers of Westminster rested him, the +rocking motion of the motor buses, passing +like broad-sided ships down the stream of the +open thoroughfares, lulled him. The slow +pressure of the river upon its unhurrying journey +to the sea placed a merciful image between +his thoughts and Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Time stood still. The hours hung on Anthony +heavily with the weight of years.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>As he leaned over the bridge and watched the +long, slow ripples pass his thoughts unnumbered, +he felt eternity. The sun sank into the +misty west; there was a faint deepening of +color and light along the Embankment. Five +white swans rose on massive wings high above +Battersea Bridge; they slipped dazzlingly +across a path of light into the darkening sky, +taking the day with them.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Twilight slipped gray and blue in long lanes +between the shadowy houses; the lights at the +street corners had misty haloes round them, like +a cloud-encircled, opal moon.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony became aware of an overwhelming +physical fatigue; it was so intense that, despite +the chill of the falling night, he sank with relief +on to one of the benches. It was empty, +for it was too early for the prowlers of the +night to seek their rest there, and too late for +the belated children playing their last games.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony could no longer see the river, but +he was aware of it moving quietly beside him +in the dark. It seemed to help his mind to +turn slowly and without pain back to the +thought of Kitty. He reflected what a wonderful +and easy chance his life would afford a +cynic for laughter. Only a few years ago +his career had been so shapely and definite a +fact. He knew what he meant to do, and he +had the means and the ability with which to do +it. He was as sure of his surgical powers and +his unshakable nerve as of the continuity of +bread upon his table. He had no bad habits, +no overmastering temptations. His life was +a clear and steadfast plan, and in due time, +with substantial success behind him and ripened +ambition for the future, he meant to seek and +find a fitting mate.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He laughed out suddenly into the dark. +He was not that sane man now, with his iron-like +securities. He had lost the rapier-like decision +of the unbroken. His mind saw many +issues, his will flickered at a choice of opportunities, +a long day’s work unstrung him like +a delicate girl. His memory was uncertain, +his clean slate was written across with undecipherable, +lost activities. He was not sure of +anything at all.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And his love, that reserved and whole-hearted +quality on which Anthony meant to +found a home, had been called out and wasted +on a light woman, happily dead. Destiny had +applauded him for his equipment and then destroyed +it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>And yet he was aware, sitting there in the +dark and cold, with his weaknesses and his +great grief, that he would not for anything in +the world be the old Anthony, secure and hidebound, +moving with blind assurance among +infinite things. The old Anthony had been a +master of material facts; he had not been a +servant of reality. Broken and twisted and +sore, unsure of his aims, diffident of his remaining +powers, Anthony knew that there was +nothing in him that reserved itself for its own +purposes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He could meet all that came with his naked +new possession. The old Anthony had given +his faculties only to his work; he himself remained +aloof, fastidious, and unused. He had +been imprisoned in a fortress of privilege.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>An unseen hand had plucked him out of it, +and plunged him into a fettered, dreadful intimacy +with miserable human beings, so that he +should learn the reality of pain. Pain had +taught Anthony his own insignificance and +broken a little of his isolation away from him. +Anthony had given more of himself than he +knew to his fellow-prisoners, but he had not +given all. His sympathies were touched and +widened, but his heart remained intact. He +could still blame men for their weaknesses.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He thought of his return to England, and +how its beauty and serenity had rebuilt him. +But he was not the same again; there was more +that was accessible in him, or he would never +have known Kitty.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She would have been to him either what she +intended to be, a few weeks’ amusement, or +perhaps merely a fresh peg upon which to hang +his measured morality. It would have been +so easy for the old Anthony to have dispensed +with Kitty. But his new responsiveness to +pain had saved him from this ignoble security. +Her need had called to him, and his whole being +had rushed out to answer it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had taken from him one by one his +old immunities. She had shaken him with a +passion so vivid that he saw his code as a little +thing, and she had roused in him a tenderness +that was stronger than any self-control. She +had not done these things of a set purpose; she +had no purposes. She was one of the instruments +of life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>She could not give him the completeness of +love because love’s completeness had been defaced +in her, but out of the shattered gifts and +images of their hours together she had left him +one changeless memory: Kitty had never +blamed or judged a human soul.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>From her father to the vicar’s wife she absolved +them all. All women were her natural +enemies before their faces, but behind their +backs she was their indignant advocate. She +could even stand up for the self-righteous with +a whimsical admiration. Anthony remembered +with a pang of shame how easily and +quickly she had let him off his own rigidities.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He had felt his rigidity was his strength. +Even now he was aware of the loss of it, with +a certain sense of formidable exposure; but he +was no longer afraid of the exposure.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>He did not want to get out of anything until +he had taken with him the comradeship of what +was in it.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty’s little, narrow life was like the foam +of a wave. It had been lived for pleasure; and, +miscarried by the wind, had broken itself +against the iron rocks of life.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Anthony’s wider being was like the force +and purpose of the waters beneath; but for a +moment the powerless foam had lit it onward +and enlightened its purposes.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Kitty had not changed the direction of Anthony’s +life, but she had changed the angle of +his vision. She had told him that she was only +an atom of dust dancing in a sunbeam, and +that when the light went, there would be nothing +left of her but dust. It seemed to Anthony +that it was the dust that had gone, and +left him with the memory of light.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>A cold, wet wind rose from the river, cutting +against his weariness. He shivered, rose, +and set his face toward home.</p> + +<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;'>THE END</p> + +<hr class='pbk'/> + +<h3>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</h3> + +<p class='pindent'>Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.</p> + +<p class='pindent'>Illustrations have been relocated due to using a non-page layout.</p> + +<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>[The end of <span class='it'>A Servant of Reality</span> by Phyllis Bottome]</p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79009 ***</div> +</body> +<!-- created with fpgen.py 4.67d on 2026-07-03 16:33:19 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/79009-h/images/cover.jpg b/79009-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e124cdb --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/79009-h/images/ill001.jpg b/79009-h/images/ill001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a1428e --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/ill001.jpg diff --git a/79009-h/images/ill002.jpg b/79009-h/images/ill002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0723840 --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/ill002.jpg diff --git a/79009-h/images/ill003.jpg b/79009-h/images/ill003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..264a28e --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/ill003.jpg diff --git a/79009-h/images/ill004.jpg b/79009-h/images/ill004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a485a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/ill004.jpg diff --git a/79009-h/images/ill005.jpg b/79009-h/images/ill005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..362a79c --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/ill005.jpg diff --git a/79009-h/images/logo.jpg b/79009-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e292056 --- /dev/null +++ b/79009-h/images/logo.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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