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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love at Second Sight, by Ada Leverson
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+Title: Love at Second Sight
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+Author: Ada Leverson
+
+Release Date: February, 2006  [EBook #9851]
+[This file was first posted on October 24, 2003]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT ***
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+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects,
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+
+LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT
+
+by ADA LEVERSON
+
+First published London, 1916
+
+(Book Three of THE LITTLE OTTLEYS)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TO TACITUS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+An appalling crash, piercing shrieks, a loud, unequal quarrel on a
+staircase, the sharp bang of a door....
+
+Edith started up from her restful corner on the blue sofa by the fire,
+where she had been thinking about her guest, and rushed to the door.
+
+'Archie--Archie! Come here directly! What's that noise?'
+
+A boy of ten came calmly into the room.
+
+'It wasn't me that made the noise,' he said, 'it was Madame Frabelle.'
+
+His mother looked at him. He was a handsome, fair boy with clear grey
+eyes that looked you straight in the face without telling you anything
+at all, long eyelashes that softened, but gave a sly humour to his
+glance, a round face, a very large forehead, and smooth straw-coloured
+hair. Already at this early age he had the expressionless reserve of the
+public school where he was to be sent, with something of the suave
+superiority of the university for which he was intended. Edith thought
+he inherited both of these traits from her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She gazed at him, wondering, as she had often wondered, at the
+impossibility of guessing, even vaguely, what was really going on behind
+that large brow. And he looked back observantly, but not expressively,
+at her. She was a slim, fair, pretty woman, with more vividness and
+character than usually goes with her type. Like the boy, she had
+long-lashed grey eyes, and _blond-cendre_ hair: her mouth and chin were
+of the Burne-Jones order, and her charm, which was great but
+unintentional, and generally unconscious, appealed partly to the senses
+and partly to the intellect. She was essentially not one of those women
+who irritate all their own sex by their power (and still more by their
+fixed determination) to attract men; she was really and unusually
+indifferent to general admiration. Still, that she was not a cold woman,
+not incapable of passionate feeling, was obvious to any physiognomist;
+the fully curved lips showed her generous and pleasure-loving
+temperament, while the softly glancing, intelligent, smiling eyes spoke
+fastidiousness and discrimination. Her voice was low and soft, with a
+vibrating sound in it, and she laughed often and easily, being very
+ready to see and enjoy the amusing side of life. But observation and
+emotion alike were instinctively veiled by a quiet, reposeful manner, so
+that she made herself further popular by appearing retiring. Edith
+Ottley might so easily have been the centre of any group, and yet--she
+was not! Women were grateful to her, and in return admitted that she was
+pretty, unaffected and charming. Today she was dressed very simply in
+dark blue and might have passed for Archie's elder sister.
+
+'It isn't anything. It wasn't my fault. It was her fault. Madame
+Frabelle said _she_ would teach me to take away her mandolin and use it
+for a cricket bat. She needn't teach me; I know already.'
+
+'Now, Archie, you know perfectly well you've no right to go into her
+room when she isn't there.'
+
+'How can I go in when she is there?... She won't let me. Besides, I
+don't want to.'
+
+'It isn't nice of you; you ought not to go into her room without her
+permission.'
+
+'It isn't her room; it's your room. At least, it's the spare room.'
+
+'Have you done any harm to the mandolin?'
+
+He paused a little, as he often did before answering, as if in absence
+of mind, and then said, as though starting up from a reverie:
+
+'Er--no. No harm.'
+
+'Well, what have you done?'
+
+'I can mend it,' he answered.
+
+'Madame Frabelle has been very kind to you, Archie. I'm sorry you're not
+behaving nicely to a guest in your mother's house. It isn't the act of a
+gentleman.'
+
+'Oh. Well, there are a great many things in her room, Mother; some of
+them are rather jolly.'
+
+'Go and say you're sorry, Archie. And you mustn't do it again.'
+
+'Will it be the act of a gentleman to say I'm sorry? It'll be the act of
+a story-teller, you know.'
+
+'What! Aren't you sorry to have bothered her?'
+
+'I'm sorry she found it out,' he said, as he turned to the door.
+
+'These perpetual scenes and quarrels between my son and my guest are
+most painful to me,' Edith said, with assumed solemnity.
+
+He looked grave. 'Well, she needn't have quarrelled.'
+
+'But isn't she very kind to you?'
+
+'Yes, she isn't bad sometimes. I like it when she tells me lies about
+what her husband used to do--I mean stories. She's not a bad sort.... Is
+she a homeless refugette, Mother?'
+
+'Not exactly that. She's a widow, and she's staying with us, and we must
+be nice to her. Now, you won't forget again, will you?'
+
+'Right. But I can mend it.'
+
+'I think I'd better go up and see her,' said Edith.
+
+Archie politely opened the door for his mother.
+
+'I shouldn't, if I were you,' he said.
+
+Edith slowly went back to the fire.
+
+'Well, I'll leave her a little while, perhaps. Now do go and do
+something useful.'
+
+'What, useful? Gracious! I haven't got much more of my holidays,
+Mother.'
+
+'That's no reason why you should spend your time in worrying everybody,
+and smashing the musical instruments of guests that are under
+your roof.'
+
+He looked up at the ceiling and smiled, as if pleased at this way of
+putting it.
+
+'I suppose she's very glad to have a roof to her mouth--I mean to her
+head,' he hurriedly corrected. 'But, Mother, she isn't poor. She has an
+amber necklace. Besides, she gave Dilly sixpence the other day for not
+being frightened of a cow. If she can afford to give a little girl
+sixpence for every animal she says she isn't afraid of!'...
+
+'That only proves she's kind. And I didn't say she was poor; that's not
+the point. We must be nice and considerate to anyone staying with
+us--don't you see?'
+
+He became absent-minded again for a minute.
+
+'Well, I shouldn't be surprised if she'll be able to use it again,' he
+said consolingly--'the mandolin, I mean. Besides, what's the good of it
+anyway? I say, Mother, are all foreigners bad-tempered?'
+
+'Madame Frabelle is not a foreigner.'
+
+'I never said she was. But her husband was. He used to get into
+frightful rages with her sometimes. She says he was a noble fellow. She
+liked him awfully, but she says he never understood her. Do you suppose
+she talked English to him?'
+
+'That's enough, Archie. Go and find something to do.'
+
+As he went out he turned round again and said:
+
+'Does father like her?'
+
+'Why, yes, of course he does.'
+
+'How funny!' said Archie. 'Well, I'll say I'm sorry ... when I see her
+again.'
+
+Edith kissed him, a proceeding that he bore heroically. He was kissable,
+but she seldom gave way to the temptation. Then she went back to the
+sofa. She wanted to go on thinking about that mystery, her guest.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Madame Frabelle had arrived about a fortnight ago, with a letter of
+introduction from Lady Conroy. Lady Conroy herself was a vague, amiable
+Irishwoman, with a very large family of children. She and Edith, who
+knew each other slightly before, had grown intimate when they met, the
+previous summer, at a French watering-place. The letter asked Edith,
+with urgent inconsequence, to be kind to Madame Frabelle, of whom Lady
+Conroy said nothing except that she was of good family--she had been a
+Miss Eglantine Pollard--and was the widow of a well-to-do French
+wine merchant.
+
+She was described as a clever, interesting woman who wished to study
+English life in her native land. It did not surprise Lady Conroy in the
+least that an Englishwoman should wish to study English in England; but
+she was a woman who was never surprised at anything except the obvious
+and the inevitable.
+
+Edith had not had the faintest idea of asking Madame Frabelle to stay at
+her very small house in Sloane Street, for which invitation, indeed,
+there seemed no possible need or occasion. Yet she found herself asking
+her visitor to stay for a few days until a house or a hotel should be
+found; and Bruce, who detested guests in the house, seconded the
+invitation with warmth and enthusiasm. As Bruce was a subconscious snob,
+he may have been slightly influenced by the letter from Lady Conroy, who
+was the wife of an unprominent Cabinet Minister and, in a casual way,
+rather _grande dame_, if not exactly smart. But this consideration could
+not weigh with Edith, and its effect on Bruce must have long passed
+away. Madame Frabelle accepted the invitation as a matter of course,
+made use of it as a matter of convenience, and had remained ever since,
+showing no sign of leaving. Edith was deeply interested in her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And Bruce was more genuinely impressed and unconsciously bored by Madame
+Frabelle than by any woman he had ever met. Yet she was not at all
+extraordinary. She was a tall woman of about fifty, well bred without
+being distinguished, who could never have been handsome but was
+graceful, dignified, and pleasing. She was neither dark nor fair. She
+had a broad, good-natured face, and a pale, clear complexion. She was
+inclined to be fat; not locally, in the manner of a pincushion, but with
+the generally diffused plumpness described in shops as stock size. She
+was not the sort of modern woman of fifty, with a thin figure and a good
+deal of rouge, who looks young from the back when dancing or walking,
+and talks volubly and confidentially of her young men. She had, of
+course, nothing of the middle-aged woman of the past, who at her age
+would have been definitely on the shelf, doing wool-work or collecting
+recipes there. Nor did she resemble the strong-minded type in perpetual
+tailor-made clothes, with short grey hair and eye-glasses, who belongs
+to clubs and talks chiefly of the franchise. Madame Frabelle was soft,
+womanly, amiable, yet extremely outspoken, very firm, and inclined to
+lay down the law. She was certainly charming, as Bruce and Edith agreed
+every day (even now, when they were beginning to wonder when she was
+going away!). She had an extraordinary amount of personal magnetism,
+since she convinced both the Ottleys, as she had convinced Lady Conroy,
+that she was wonderfully clever: in fact, that she knew everything.
+
+A fortnight had passed, and Edith was beginning to grow doubtful. Was
+she so clever? Did she know everything? Did she know anything at all?
+Long arguments, that grew quite heated and excited at luncheon or
+dinner, about the origin of a word, the author of a book, and various
+debatable questions of the kind, invariably ended, after reference to a
+dictionary or an encyclopaedia, in Madame Frabelle proving herself, with
+an air of triumph, to be completely and entirely wrong. She was as
+generally positive as she was fatally mistaken. Yet so intense a belief
+had she in her intuition as well as in her own inaccurate information
+that her hypnotised hosts were growing daily more and more under her
+thumb. She took it for granted that everyone would take her for
+granted--and everyone did.
+
+Was all this agreeable or otherwise? Edith thought it must be, or how
+could they bear it at all? If it had not been extremely pleasant it
+would have been simply impossible.
+
+The fair, gentle, pretty Edith, who was more subtle than she appeared on
+the surface, while apparently indolent, had a very active brain. Madame
+Frabelle caused her to use it more than she had ever done before. Edith
+was intensely curious and until she understood her visitor she could not
+rest satisfied. She made her a psychological study.
+
+For example, here was a curious little point. Madame Frabelle did not
+look young for her age, nor did she seem in the least inclined to wish
+to be admired, nor ever to have been a flirt. The word 'fast', for
+example, would have been quite grotesque as associated with her, though
+she was by no means prudish as to subjects of conversation, nor prim in
+the middle-class way. Yet somehow it would not have seemed incongruous
+or surprising if one had found out that there was even now some romance
+in her life. But, doubtless, the most striking thing about her--and what
+made her popular--was her intense interest in other people. It went so
+far as to reach the very verge of being interference; but she was so
+pleasant that one could scarcely resent it either as curiosity or
+intrusion. Since she had stayed with the Ottleys, she appeared to think
+of no-one and nothing else in the world. One would think that no-one
+else existed for her. And, after all, such extreme interest is
+flattering. Bruce, Archie, Edith, even Dilly's nurse, all had, in her,
+an audience: interested, absorbed, enchanted. Who could help
+enjoying it?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Edith was still thinking about Madame Frabelle when a few minutes later,
+Bruce came in.
+
+Bruce also was fair, besides being tall, good-looking and well built.
+Known by their friends for some reason as the little Ottleys, these two
+were a rather fine-looking pair, and (at a casual glance) admirably
+suited to one another. They appeared to be exactly like thousands of
+other English married couples of the upper middle class between thirty
+and forty; he looked as manly (through being sunburnt from knocking a
+little ball over the links) as if he habitually went tiger-shooting;
+but, though not without charm, he had much less distinction than his
+wife. Most people smiled when Bruce's name was mentioned, and it was
+usual for his intimates to clap him on the back and call him a silly
+ass, which proves he was not unpopular. On the other hand, Edith was
+described as a very pretty woman, or a nice little thing, and by the
+more discriminating, jolly clever when you know her, and don't you
+forget it.
+
+When Bruce told his wife that no-one had ever regretted consulting him
+on a difficult, secret, and delicate matter, Edith had said she was
+quite sure they hadn't. Perhaps she thought no-one had ever regretted
+consulting him on such a subject, simply because no-one had ever tried.
+
+'Oh, please don't move, Edith,' he said, in the tone which means, 'Oh,
+please do move.' 'I like to see you comfortable.'
+
+There was something in his manner that made her feel apologetic, and she
+changed her position with the feeling of guilt about nothing, and a
+tinge of shame for something she hadn't done, easily produced by an air
+of self-sacrifice Bruce was apt to show at such moments.
+
+'Your hair's coming down, Edith,' he said kindly, to add to her vague
+embarrassment.
+
+As a matter of fact, a curl by the right ear was only about one-tenth of
+an inch farther on the cheek than it was intended to be But, by this
+observation, he got the advantage of her by giving the impression that
+she looked wild, unkempt, and ruffled, though she was, in reality,
+exactly as trim and neat as always.
+
+'Well--about the delicate matter you were going to talk over with me,
+Bruce?'
+
+'Oh yes. Oh, by the way,' he said, 'before we go into that, I wonder if
+you could help me about something? You could do me a really great
+service by helping me to find a certain book.'
+
+'Why, of course, Bruce, with pleasure. What is the book?' asked the
+amiable wife, looking alert.
+
+Bruce looked at her with pity.
+
+'What is the book? My dear Edith, don't you see I shouldn't have come to
+you about it if I knew what the book was.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Bruce,' said Edith, now feeling thoroughly in the
+wrong, and looking round the room. 'But if you can't give me the name of
+the book I scarcely see how I can find it.'
+
+'And if I knew its name I shouldn't want your assistance.'
+
+It seemed a deadlock.
+
+Going to the bookcase, Edith said:
+
+'Can't you give me some idea of what it's like?'
+
+'Certainly I can. I've seen it a hundred times in this very room; in
+fact it's always here, except when it's wanted.'
+
+Edith went down on her knees in front of the bookcase and
+cross-questioned Bruce on the physiognomy of the volume. She asked
+whether it was a novel, whether it was blue, whether it belonged to the
+library, whether it was Stevenson, whether it was French, or if it was
+suitable for the children.
+
+To all of these questions he returned a negative.
+
+'Suitable for the children?' he repeated. 'What a fantastic idea! Do you
+think I should take all this trouble to come and request your assistance
+and spend hours of valuable time looking for a book that's suitable for
+the children?'
+
+'But, Bruce, if you request my assistance without having the slightest
+idea of what book it is, how shall I possibly be able to help?'
+
+'Quite so ... quite so. Never mind, Edith, don't trouble. If I say that
+it's a pity there isn't more order in the house you won't regard it, I
+hope, dear, as a reproach in any way. If there were a place for
+everything, and everything in its place--However! Never mind. It's a
+small matter, and it can't be helped. I know, Edith dear, you were not
+brought up to be strictly orderly. Some people are not. I don't blame
+you; not in the least. Still, when Dilly grows up I shall be sorry if--'
+
+'Bruce, it's nothing to do with order. The room is perfectly tidy. It's
+a question of your memory. You don't remember the name of the book.'
+
+'Pardon me, it's not a question of remembering the name; that would be
+nothing. Anyone can forget a name. That wouldn't matter.'
+
+'Oh, then, you mean you don't even know in the least what you want?'
+
+At this moment Bruce decided it was time to find the book, and suddenly
+sprang, like a middle-aged fawn, at the writing-table, seizing a volume
+triumphantly.
+
+'There it is--the whole time!' he said, 'staring at you while you are
+helplessly looking for it. Oh, Edith, Edith!' he laughed amiably. 'How
+like a woman that is! And the very book a few inches from your hand!
+Well, well, never mind; it's found at last. I hope, dear, in the future
+you will be more careful. We'll say no more about it now.'
+
+Edith didn't point out to Bruce that the book was a novel; that it was
+blue; that it belonged to the library, was French, and that it was still
+suitable for the children.
+
+'Well, well,' he said, sitting down with the book, which he had never
+wanted at all, and had never even thought of when he came to the room
+first, 'well, well, here it is! And now for the point I was going to
+tell you when I came in.'
+
+'Shall we have tea, dear?' said Edith.
+
+'Tea? Oh, surely not. It's only just four. I don't think it's good for
+the servants having tea half-an-hour earlier than usual. It's a little
+thing--yes, I know that, but I don't believe in it. I like punctuality,
+regularity--oh, well, of course, dear, if you wish it.'
+
+'No, I don't at all! I thought you might.'
+
+'Oh no. I like punctuality, er--and, as a matter of fact, I had tea at
+the club.'
+
+Laughing, Edith rang the bell.
+
+Bruce lighted a cigarette, first, with his usual courtesy, asking her
+permission.
+
+'I'll tell you about _that_ when Woodhouse has gone,' he said
+mysteriously.
+
+'Oh, can't you tell me anything about it now? I wouldn't have ordered
+tea if I'd known that!'
+
+He enjoyed keeping her waiting, and was delighted at her interest. He
+would have made it last longer, but was unable to bear his own suspense;
+so he said:
+
+'Before I say any more, tell me: where is Madame Frabelle?'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+'Madame Frabelle's in her own room. She stays there a good deal, you
+know. I fancy she does it out of tactfulness.' Edith spoke thoughtfully.
+
+'What does she do there?' Bruce asked with low-toned curiosity, as he
+stood up and looked in the glass.
+
+'She says she goes there to read. She thinks it bores people to see a
+visitor sitting reading about the house; she says it makes them get
+tired of the sight of her.'
+
+'But she can't be reading all those hours, surely?' and Bruce sat down,
+satisfied with his appearance.
+
+'One would think not. I used to think she was probably lying on the sofa
+with cold cream on her face, or something of that sort. But she doesn't.
+Once I went in,' Edith smiled, 'and found her doing Swedish exercises.'
+
+'Good heavens! What a wonderful woman she is! Do you mean to say she's
+learning Swedish, as well as all the other languages she knows?'
+
+'No, no. I mean physical exercises. But go on, Bruce. I'm getting so
+impatient.'
+
+Bruce settled himself down comfortably, blew a ring of smoke, and then
+began slowly:
+
+'I never dreamt, Edith--'
+
+'Oh, Bruce, are you going to tell me everything you never dreamt? We
+shall take weeks getting to the point.'
+
+'Don't be absurd. I'll get to the point at once then. Look here; I think
+we ought to give a dinner for Madame Frabelle!'
+
+'Oh, is that all? Of course! I've been wondering that you didn't wish to
+do it long before now.'
+
+'Have you? I'll tell you why. Thinking Madame Frabelle was a pal, er--a
+friend--of the Conroys, it stood to reason, don't you see, that she knew
+everyone in London; or could, if she liked--everyone worth knowing, I
+mean. Under these circumstances there was no point in--well--in showing
+off our friends to her. But I found out, only last night'--he lowered
+his voice--'what do you think? She isn't an intimate friend of Lady
+Conroy's at all! She only made her acquaintance in the drawing-room of
+the Royal Hotel two days before she came to London!'
+
+Edith laughed.
+
+'How delightful! Then why on earth did Lady Conroy send her to us with a
+letter of introduction? Why just us?'
+
+'Because she likes you. Besides, it's just like her, isn't it? And she
+never said she had known her all her life. We jumped to that conclusion.
+It was our own idea.'
+
+'And how did you find it out?'
+
+'Why, when you went up to the children and left me alone with Madame
+Frabelle yesterday evening, she told me herself; perfectly frankly, in
+her usual way. She's always like that, so frank and open. Besides, she
+hadn't the slightest idea we didn't know it.'
+
+'I hope you didn't let her think--' Edith began.
+
+'Edith! As if I would! Well, that being so'--he lit another
+cigarette--'and under the circumstances, I want to ask some people to
+meet her. See?'
+
+'She seems very happy with us alone, doesn't she? Not as if she cared
+much for going out.'
+
+'Yes, I know; that's all very well. But I don't want her to think we
+don't know anyone. And it seems a bit selfish, too, keeping her all to
+ourselves like this.'
+
+'Who do you want her to meet, dear?'
+
+'I want her to meet the Mitchells,' said Bruce. 'It's only a chance, of
+course, that she hasn't met them already here, and I've told Mitchell at
+the Foreign Office a good deal about her. He's very keen to know her.
+Very keen indeed,' he added thoughtfully.
+
+'And then the Mitchells will ask her to their house, of course?'
+
+'I know they will,' said Bruce, rather jealously. 'Well, I shan't mind
+her going there--once or twice--it's a very pleasant house, you know,
+Edith. And she likes celebrities, and clever people, and that sort
+of thing.'
+
+'Mrs Mitchell will count her as one, no doubt.'
+
+'I daresay! What does that matter? So she is.'
+
+'I know she is, in a way; but, Bruce, don't you wonder why she stays
+here so long? I mean, there's no question of its not being for--well,
+for, say, interested reasons. I happen to know for a fact that she has a
+far larger income for herself alone than we have altogether. She showed
+me her bank-book one day.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+'I don't know. She's so confidential, and perhaps she wanted me to know
+how she was placed. And--she's not that sort of person--she's generous
+and liberal, rather extravagant I should say.'
+
+'Quite so. Still, it's comfortable here, and saves trouble--and she
+likes us.'
+
+Bruce again looked up toward the mirror, though he couldn't see it now.
+
+'Well, I don't mind her being here; it's a nice change, but it seems odd
+she hasn't said a word about going. Well, about the dinner. Who else
+shall we have, Edith? Let it be a small, intimate, distinguished sort of
+dinner. She hates stiffness and ceremony. She likes to have a chance
+to talk.'
+
+'She does, indeed. All right, you can leave it to me, Bruce. I'll make
+it all right. We'll have about eight people, shall we?'
+
+'She must sit next to me, on my left,' Bruce observed. 'And not lilies
+of the valley--she doesn't like the scent.'
+
+Madame Frabelle was usually designated between them by the personal
+pronoun only.
+
+'All right. But what was the delicate, difficult matter that someone
+consulted you about, Bruce?'
+
+'Ah, I was just coining to that.... Hush!'
+
+The door opened. Madame Frabelle came in, dressed in a violet tea-gown.
+
+'Tea?' said Edith, holding out a cup.
+
+'Yes, indeed! I'm always ready for tea, and you have such delightful
+tea, Edith dear!' (They had already reached the point of Christian
+names, though Edith always found Eglantine a little difficult to say.)
+'It's nice to see you back so early, Mr Ottley.'
+
+'Wouldn't you like a slice of lemon?' said Bruce.
+
+To offer her a slice of lemon with tea was, from Bruce, a tribute to the
+lady's talents.
+
+'Oh no! Cream and sugar, please.'
+
+Madame Frabelle was looking very pleasant and very much at her ease as
+she sat down comfortably, taking the largest chair.
+
+'I'm afraid that Archie has been bothering you today,' Edith said, as
+she poured out tea.
+
+'What!' exclaimed Bruce, with a start of horror.
+
+'Oh no, no, no! Not the least in the world, Mr Ottley! He's a most
+delightful boy. We were only having some fun together--about my
+mandolin; that was all!'
+
+(Edith thought of the sounds she had heard on the stairs.)
+
+'I'm afraid I got a little cross. A thing I very seldom do.' Madame
+Frabelle looked apologetically at Edith. 'But we've quite made it up
+now! Oh, and by the way, I want to speak to you both rather seriously
+about your boy,' she went on earnestly. She had a rather powerful,
+clear, penetrating voice, and spoke with authority, decision, and the
+sort of voluble fluency generally known as not letting anyone else get a
+word in edgeways.
+
+'About our boy?' said Bruce, handing the toast to her invitingly, while
+Edith put a cushion behind her back, for which Madame Frabelle gave a
+little gracious smile.
+
+'About your boy. Do you know, I have a very curious gift, Mr Ottley. I
+can always see in children what they're going to make a success of in
+life. Without boasting, I know you, Edith, are kind enough to believe
+that I'm an extraordinary judge of character. Oh, I've always been like
+that. I can't help it. I'll tell you now what you must make of your
+boy,' she pursued. 'He is a born musician!'
+
+'A musician!' exclaimed both his parents at once, in great astonishment.
+
+Madame Frabelle nodded. 'That boy is a born composer! He has genius for
+music. Look at his broad forehead! Those grey eyes, so wide apart! I
+know, just at first one thinks too much from the worldly point of view
+of the success of one's son in life. But why go against nature? The
+boy's a genius!'
+
+'But,' ventured Edith, 'Archie hasn't the slightest ear for music!'
+
+'He dislikes music intensely,' said Bruce. 'Simply loathes it.'
+
+'He cried so much over his piano lessons that we were obliged to let him
+give them up. It used to make him quite ill--and his music mistress
+too,' Edith said. 'I remember she left the last time in hysterics.'
+
+'Yes, by Jove, I remember too. Pretty girl she was. She had a nervous
+breakdown afterwards,' said Bruce rather proudly.
+
+'No, dear; you're thinking of the other one--the woman who began to
+teach him the violin.'
+
+'Oh, am I?'
+
+Madame Frabelle nodded her head with a smile.
+
+'Nothing on earth to do with it, my dear! The boy's a born composer all
+the same. With that face he must be a musician!'
+
+'Really! Funny he hates it so,' said Bruce thoughtfully. 'But still, I
+have no doubt--'
+
+'Believe me, you can't go by his not liking his lessons,' assured Madame
+Frabelle, as she ate a muffin. 'That has nothing to do with it at all.
+The young Mozart--'
+
+'Mozart? I thought he played the piano when he was only three?'
+
+'Handel, I mean--or was it Meyerbeer? At any rate you'll see I'm right.'
+
+'You really think we ought to force him against his will to study music
+seriously, with the idea of his being a composer when he grows up,
+though he detests it?' asked his mother.
+
+Madame Frabelle turned to Edith.
+
+'Won't you feel proud when you see your son conducting his own opera, to
+the applause of thousands? Won't it be something to be the mother of the
+greatest English composer of the twentieth century?'
+
+'It would be rather fun.'
+
+'We shan't hear quite so much about Strauss, Elgar, Debussy and all
+those people when Archie Ottley grows up,' declared Madame Frabelle.
+
+'I hear very little about them now,' said Bruce.
+
+'Well, how should you at the Foreign Office, or the golf-links, or the
+club?' asked Edith.
+
+Bruce ignored Edith, and went on: 'Perhaps he'll turn out to be a Lionel
+Monckton or a Paul Rubens. Perhaps he'll write comic opera revues or
+musical comedies.'
+
+'Oh dear, no,' said their guest, shaking her head decidedly. 'It will be
+the very highest class, the top of the tree! The real thing!'
+
+'Madame Frabelle _may_ be right, you know,' said Bruce.
+
+She leant back, smiling.
+
+'I _know_ I'm right! There's simply no question about it.'
+
+'Well, what do you think we ought to do about it?' said Edith. 'He goes
+to a preparatory school now where they don't have any music lessons
+at all.'
+
+'All the better,' she answered. 'The sort of lessons he would get at a
+school would be no use to him.'
+
+'So I should think,' murmured Edith.
+
+'Leave it, say, for the moment, and when he comes back for his next
+holidays put him under a good teacher--a really great man. And
+you'll see!'
+
+'I daresay we shall,' said Bruce, considerably relieved at the
+postponement. 'Funny though, isn't it, his not knowing one tune from
+another, when he's a born musician?'
+
+It flashed across Edith what an immense bond of sympathy it was between
+Bruce and Madame Frabelle that neither of them was burdened with the
+slightest sense of humour.
+
+When he presently went out (each of them preferred talking to Her alone,
+and She also enjoyed a _tete-a-tete_ most) Madame Frabelle drew up her
+chair nearer to Edith and said:
+
+'My dear, I'm going to tell you something. Don't be angry with me, or
+think me impertinent, but you've been very kind to me, and I look upon
+you as a real friend.'
+
+'It's very sweet of you,' said Edith, feeling hypnotised, and as if she
+would gladly devote her life to Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Well, I can see something. You are not quite happy.'
+
+'Not happy!' exclaimed Edith.
+
+'No. You have a trouble, and I'd give anything to take it away.'
+
+Madame Frabelle looked at her with sympathy, pressed her hand, then
+looked away.
+
+Edith knew she was looking away out of delicacy. Delicacy about what? It
+was an effort not to laugh; but, oddly enough, it was also an effort not
+to feel secretly miserable. She wondered, though, what she was unhappy
+about. She need not have troubled, for Madame Frabelle was quite willing
+to tell her. She was, indeed, willing to tell anyone anything. Perhaps
+that was the secret of her charm.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was utterly impossible, literally out of the question, that Madame
+Frabelle could know anything about the one trouble, the one danger, that
+so narrowly escaped being almost a tragedy, in Edith's life.
+
+It was three years since Bruce, always inclined to vague, mild
+flirtations, had been positively carried off his feet, and literally
+taken away by a determined young art student, with red hair, who had
+failed to marry a friend of his. While Edith, with the children, was
+passing the summer holidays at Westgate, Bruce had sent her the
+strangest of letters, informing her that he and Mavis Argles could not
+live without one another, and had gone to Australia together, and
+imploring her to divorce him. The complication was increased by the fact
+that at that particular moment the most charming man Edith had ever met,
+Aylmer Ross, that eloquent and brilliant barrister, had fallen in love
+with her, and she had become considerably attracted to him. Her pride
+had been hurt at Bruce's conduct, but she had certainly felt it less
+bitterly, in one way, because she was herself so much fascinated by
+Aylmer and his devotion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Edith had behaved with cool courage and real unselfishness. She felt
+certain that Brace's mania would not last, and that if it did he would
+be miserable. Strangely, then, she had declined to divorce him, and
+waited. Her prophecy turned out correct, and by the time they arrived at
+their journey's end the red-haired lady was engaged to a commercial
+traveller whom she met on the boat. By then Bruce and she were equally
+convinced that in going to Australia they had decidedly gone too far.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So Brace came back, and Edith forgave him. She made one condition only
+(which was also her one revenge), that he should never speak about it,
+never mention the subject again.
+
+Aylmer Ross, who had taken his romance seriously to heart, refused to be
+kept as _l'ami de la maison,_ and as a platonic admirer. Deeply
+disappointed--for he was prepared to give his life to Edith and her
+children (he was a widower of independent means)--he had left England;
+she had never seen him since.
+
+All this had been a real event, a real break in Edith's life. For the
+first few months after she suffered, missing the excitement of Aylmer's
+controlled passion, and his congenial society. Gradually she made
+herself--not forget it--but put aside, ignore the whole incident. It
+gave her genuine satisfaction to know that she had made a sacrifice for
+Bruce's sake. She was aware that he could not exist really
+satisfactorily without her, though perhaps he didn't know it. He needed
+her. At first she had endeavoured to remain separated from him, while
+apparently living together, from who knows what feeling of romantic
+fidelity to Aylmer, or pique at the slight shown her by her husband.
+Then she found that impossible. It would make him more liable to other
+complications and the whole situation too full of general difficulties.
+So now, for the last three years, they had been on much the same terms
+as they were before. Bruce had become, perhaps, less patronising, more
+respectful to her, and she a shade more gentle and considerate to him,
+as to a child. For she was generous and did not forgive by halves. There
+were moments of nervous irritation, of course, and of sentimental
+regret. On the whole, though, Edith was glad she had acted as she did.
+But if occasionally she felt her life a little dull and flat, if she
+missed some of the excitement of that eventful year, it was impossible
+for anyone to see it by her manner.
+
+What could Madame Frabelle possibly know about it? What did that lady
+really suppose was the matter?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'What do you think I'm unhappy about?' Edith repeated.
+
+Madame Frabelle, as has been mentioned, was willing to tell her. She
+told her, as usual, with fluency and inaccuracy.
+
+Edith was much amused to find how strangely mistaken was this
+authoritative lady as to her intuitions, how inevitably _a faux_ with
+her penetrations and her instinctive guesses. Madame Frabelle said that
+she believed Edith was beginning to feel the dawn of love for someone,
+and was struggling against it. (The struggle of course in reality had
+long been over.)
+
+Who was the person?
+
+'I haven't met him yet,' Madame Frabelle said; 'but isn't there a name I
+hear very often? Your husband is always talking about him; he told me I
+was to make the acquaintance of this great friend of his. Something
+tells me it is he. I shall know as soon as I see him. You can't hide
+it from me!'
+
+Who was the person Bruce was always mentioning to Madame Frabelle?
+Certainly not Aylmer Ross--he had apparently forgotten his existence.
+
+'Are you referring to--?'
+
+Madame Frabelle looked out of the window and nodded.
+
+'Yes--Mr Mitchell!'
+
+Edith started, and a smile curved her lips.
+
+'It's always the husband's great friend, unfortunately,' sighed
+Eglantine. 'Oh, my dear' (with the usual cheap, ready-made knowingness
+of the cynic), 'I've seen so much of that. Now I'm going to help you.
+I'm determined to leave you two dear, charming people without a cloud,
+when I go.'
+
+'You're not thinking of going?'
+
+'Not yet ... no. Not while you let me stay here, dear. I've friends in
+London, and in the country, but I haven't looked them up, or written to
+them, or done anything since I've been here. I've been too happy. I
+couldn't be bothered. I am so interested in you! Another thing--may I
+say?--for I feel as if I'd known you for years. You think your husband
+doesn't know it. You are wrong.'
+
+'Am I really?'
+
+'Quite. Last night a certain look when he spoke of the Mitchells showed
+me that Bruce is terribly jealous. He doesn't show it, but he is.'
+
+'But--Mrs Mitchell?' suggested Edith. 'She's one of our best friends--a
+dear thing. By the way, we're asking them to dine with us on Tuesday.'
+
+'I'm delighted to hear it. I shall understand everything then. Isn't it
+curious--without even seeing them--that I know all about it? I think
+I've a touch of second sight.'
+
+'But, Eglantine, aren't you going a little far? Hadn't you better wait
+until you've seen them, at least. You've no idea how well the
+Mitchells get on.'
+
+'I've no doubt of it,' she replied, 'and, of course, I don't know that
+he--Mr Mitchell, I mean--even realises what you are to him. But _I_ do!'
+
+Edith was really impressed at the dash with which Madame Frabelle so
+broadly handled this vague theme.
+
+'Wait till you do see them,' she said, rather mischievously, declining
+to deny her friend's suggestion altogether.
+
+'Odd I should have guessed it, isn't it?' Madame Frabelle was evidently
+pleased. 'You'll admit this, Edith, from what your husband says I gather
+you see each other continually, don't you?'
+
+'Very often.'
+
+'Bruce and he are together at the Foreign Office. Bruce thinks much of
+him, and admires him. With it all I notice now and then a tinge of
+bitterness in the way he speaks. He was describing their fancy-dress
+ball to me the other day, and really his description of Mr Mitchell's
+costume would have been almost spiteful in any other man.'
+
+'Well, but Mr Mitchell is over sixty. And he was got up as a black
+poodle.'
+
+'Yes; quite so. But he's a fine-looking man, isn't he? And very pleasant
+and hospitable?'
+
+'Oh yes, of course.'
+
+'On your birthday last week that magnificent basket of flowers came from
+Mr Mitchell,' stated Eglantine.
+
+'Certainly; from the Mitchells rather. But, really, that's nothing. I
+think you'll be a little disappointed if you think he's at all of the
+romantic type.'
+
+'I didn't think that,' she answered, though of course she had; 'but
+something told me--I don't know why--that there's some strange
+attraction.... I never saw a more perfect wife than you, nor a more
+perfect mother. But these things should be nipped in the bud, dear. They
+get hold of you sometimes before you know where you are. And think,' she
+went on with relish, 'how terrible it would be practically to break up
+two homes!'
+
+'Oh, really, I must stop you there,' cried Edith. 'You don't think of
+elopements, do you?'
+
+'I don't say that, necessarily. But I've seen a great deal of life. I've
+lived everywhere, and just the very households--_menages,_ as we say
+abroad--that seem most calm and peaceful, sometimes--It would be,
+anyhow, very dreadful, wouldn't it--to live a double life?'
+
+Edith thought her friend rather enjoyed the idea, but she said:
+
+'You don't imagine, I hope, that there's anything in the nature of an
+intrigue going on between me and Mr Mitchell?'
+
+'No, no, no--not now--not yet--but you don't quite know, Edith, how one
+can be carried away. As I was sitting up in my room--thinking--'
+
+'You think too much,' interrupted Edith.
+
+'Perhaps so--but it came to me like this. I mean to be the one to put
+things right again, if I can. My dear child, a woman of the world like
+myself sees things. You two ought to be ideally happy. You're meant for
+one another--I mean you and Bruce.'
+
+'Do you think so?'
+
+'Absolutely. But this--what shall I say?--this fascination is coming
+between you, and, though you don't realise it, it's saddening Bruce's
+life; it will sadden yours too. At first, no doubt, at the stage you're
+in, dear, it seems all romance and excitement. But later on--Now, Edith,
+promise me you won't be angry with me for what I've said? It's a
+terrible freedom that I've taken, I know. Really a liberty. But if I
+were your'--she glanced at the mirror--'elder sister, I couldn't be
+fonder of you. Don't think I'm a horrid, interfering old thing,
+will you?'
+
+'Indeed I don't; you're a dear.'
+
+'Well, we won't speak of it any more till after Tuesday,' said Madame
+Frabelle, 'and take my advice: throw yourself into other things.'
+
+She glanced round the room.
+
+'It's a splendid idea to divert your thoughts; why don't you refurnish
+your boudoir?'
+
+Edith had often noticed the strange lack in Eglantine of any sense of
+decoration. She dressed charmingly, but with regard to surroundings she
+was entirely devoid of taste. She had the curious provincialism so often
+seen in cosmopolitans who have lived most of their lives in hotels,
+without apparently noticing or caring about their surroundings.
+
+Edith made rather a hobby of decoration, and she had a cultured and
+quiet taste, and much knowledge on the subject. She guessed Madame
+Frabelle thought her rooms too plain, too colourless. Instead of the
+dull greys and blues, and surfaces without design, she felt sure her
+friend would have preferred gorgeous patterns, and even a good deal of
+gilt. Probably at heart Madame Frabelle's ideal was the crimson plush
+and stamped leather and fancy ceilings of the lounge in a foreign hotel.
+
+'I rather like my room, you know,' said Edith.
+
+'And so do I. It's very charming. But a change, dear--a change of
+_entourage_, as we say abroad, would do you good.'
+
+'Well, we must really think that out,' said Edith.
+
+'That's right. And you're not cross?'
+
+'Cross? I don't know when I've enjoyed a conversation so much,' said
+Edith, speaking with perfect truth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The Ottleys and Madame Frabelle were in the drawing-room awaiting their
+guests. (I say advisedly their guests, for no-one could help regarding
+Madame Frabelle as essentially the hostess, and queen of the evening.)
+One would fancy that instead of entertaining more or less for the last
+twelve years the young couple had never given a dinner before; so much
+suppressed excitement was in the air. Bruce was quiet and subdued now
+from combined nervousness and pride, but for the few days previous he
+had been terribly trying to his unfortunate wife; nothing, according to
+him, could be good enough for the purpose of impressing Madame Frabelle,
+and he appeared to have lost all his confidence in Edith's undeniable
+gift for receiving.
+
+The flowers, the menu, the arrangement of the eight people--for the
+dinner was still small, intimate and distinguished, as he had first
+suggested--had been subjected to continual and maddening changes in its
+scheme. Everyone had been disengaged and everyone had accepted--then he
+wished he had asked other people instead.
+
+When Edith was dressed Bruce put the last touch to his irritating
+caprices by asking Edith to take out of her hair a bandeau of blue that
+he had first asked her to put in. Every woman will know what agony that
+must have caused. The pretty fair hair was waved and arranged specially
+for this ornament, and when she took it out the whole scheme seemed to
+her wrong. However, she looked very pretty, dressed in vaporous tulle of
+a shade of blue which only a faultless complexion can bear.
+
+Edith's complexion was her strong point. When she was a little flushed
+she looked all the better for it, and when she was pale it seemed to
+suit her none the worse. Hers was the sort of skin with a satiny texture
+that improves under bright sunshine or electric light; in fact the more
+brilliantly it was lighted the better it looked.
+
+Madame Frabelle (of course) was dressed in black, _decolletee,_ and with
+a good deal of jet. A black aigrette, like a lightning conductor, stood
+up defiantly in her hair. Though it did not harmonise well with the
+somewhat square and _bourgeois_ shape of her head and face, and
+appeared to have dropped on her by accident, yet as a symbol of
+smartness it gave her a kind of distinction. It appeared to have fallen
+from the skies; it was put on in the wrong place, and it did not nestle,
+as it should do, and appear to grow out of the hair, since that glory of
+womanhood, in her case of a dull brown, going slightly grey, was smooth,
+scarce and plainly parted. Madame Frabelle really would have looked her
+best in a cap of the fashion of the sixties. But she could carry off
+anything; and some people said that she did.
+
+Edith had been allowed by her husband _carte blanche_ in the decoration
+of their house.
+
+This was fortunate, as _mise-en-scene_ was a great gift of hers; no-one
+had such a sense as Edith for arranging a room. She had struck the happy
+mean between the eccentric and the conventional. Anything that seemed
+unusual did not appear to be a pose, or a strained attempt at being
+different from others, but seemed to have a reason of its own. For
+example, she greatly disliked the usual gorgeous _endimanche_
+drawing-room and dark conventional dining-room. The room in which she
+received her guests was soft and subdued in colour and not dazzling with
+that blaze of light that is so trying to strangers just arrived and not
+knowing their way about a house (or certain of how they are looking).
+The room seemed to receive them kindly; make them comfortable, and at
+their ease, hoping they looked their best. The shaded lights, not dim
+enough to be depressing, were kind to those past youth and gave
+confidence to the shy. There was nothing ceremonious, nothing chilly,
+about the drawing-room; it was essentially at once comfortable and
+becoming, and the lights shone like shaded sunshine from the dull pink
+corners of the room.
+
+On the other hand, the dining-room helped conversation by its
+stimulating gaiety and daintiness.
+
+The feminine curves of the furniture, such as is usually kept for the
+drawing-room, were all pure Louis-Quinze. It was deliriously pretty in
+its pink and white and pale green.
+
+In the drawing-room the hosts stood by one of those large, old-fashioned
+oaken fireplaces so supremely helpful to conversation and
+_tete-a-tetes_. In Edith's house there was never any general
+conversation except at dinner. People simply made friends, flirted, and
+enjoyed themselves.
+
+As the clock struck eight the Mitchells were announced. Edith could
+scarcely control a laugh as Mr Mitchell came in, he looked so utterly
+unlike the dangerous lover Madame Frabelle had conjured up. He was
+immensely tall, broad, loosely built, large-shouldered, with a red
+beard, a twinkle in his eye, and the merriest of laughs. He was a
+delightful man, but there was no romance about him. Besides, Edith
+remembered him as a black poodle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Mitchell struck a useful note, and seemed a perfect complement to
+her husband, the ideal wife for him. She was about forty-five, but being
+slim, animated, and well dressed (though entirely without _chic_), she
+seemed a good deal younger.
+
+Mr. Mitchell might have been any age between sixty and sixty-five, and
+had the high spirits and vitality of a boy.
+
+It was impossible to help liking this delightful couple; they fully
+deserved their popularity. In the enormous house at Hampstead, arranged
+like a country mansion, where they lived, Mr. Mitchell made it the
+object of his life to collect Bohemians as other people collect Venetian
+glass, from pure love of the material. His wife, with a silly woman's
+subtlety, having rather lower ideals--that is to say, a touch of the
+very human vulgarity known as social ambition--made use of his
+Bohemianism to help her on in her mundane success. This was the
+principle of the thing. If things were well done--and they always were
+at her house--would not a duke, if he were musical, go anywhere to hear
+the greatest tenor in Europe? And would not all the greatest celebrities
+go anywhere to meet a duke?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next the two young Conistons were announced.
+
+Miss Coniston was a thin, amiable, artistic girl, who did tooling in
+leather, made her own dresses, recited, and had a pale, good-looking,
+too well-dressed, disquieting young brother of twenty-two, who seemed to
+be always going out when other people came in, but was rather useful in
+society, being musical and very polite. The music that he chose
+generally gave his audience a shock. Being so young, so pale, and so
+contemporary, one expected him to sing thin, elusive music by Debussy,
+Faure, or Ravel. He seemed never to have heard of these composers, but
+sang instead threatening songs, such as, 'I'll sing thee Songs of
+Araby!' or defiant, teetotal melodies, like 'Drink to Me only with thine
+Eyes!' His voice was good, and louder and deeper than one would expect.
+He accompanied himself and his sister everywhere. She, by the way, to
+add to the interest about her, was said to be privately engaged to a
+celebrity who was never there. Alice and Guy Coniston were orphans, and
+lived alone in a tiny flat in Pelham Gardens. He had been reading for
+the Bar, but when the war broke out he joined the New Army, and was
+now in khaki.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But the _clou_ and great interest of the evening was the arrival of Sir
+Tito Landi, that most popular of all Italian composers. With his white
+moustache, pink and white complexion, and large bright blue eyes, his
+dandified dress, his eyeglass and buttonhole, he had the fresh, fair
+look of an Englishman, the dry brilliance of a Parisian, the _naivete_
+of a genius, the manners of a courtier, and behind it all the diabolic
+humour of the Neapolitan. He was small, thin and slight, with a curious
+dignity of movement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Ah, Tito,' cried Bruce cordially. 'Here you are!'
+
+The dinner was bright and gay from the very beginning, even before the
+first glass of champagne. It began with an optimistic view of the war,
+then, dropping the grave subject, they talked of people, theatres,
+books, and general gossip. In all these things Madame Frabelle took the
+lead. Indeed, she had begun at once laying down the law in a musical
+voice but with a determined manner that gave those who knew her to
+understand only too well that she intended to go steadily on, and
+certainly not to stop to breathe before the ices.
+
+Sir Tito Landi, fixing his eyeglass in his bright blue eye, took in
+Madame Frabelle in one long look, and smiled at her sympathetically.
+
+'What do you think of her?' murmured Edith to Landi.
+
+Hypnotised and slightly puzzled as she was by her guest, she was
+particularly curious for his opinion, as she knew him to be the best
+judge of character of her acquaintance. He had some of the
+capriciousness of the spoilt, successful artist, which showed itself,
+except to those whom he regarded as real friends, in odd variations of
+manner, so that Edith could not tell at all by his being extremely
+charming to Madame Frabelle that he liked her, or by his being abrupt
+and satirical that he didn't. An old friend and a favourite, she could
+rely on what he told her.
+
+'C'est une bonne vieille,' he said. 'Bonne, mais bete!'
+
+'Really?' Edith asked, surprised.
+
+Landi laughed. 'Bete comme ses pieds, ma chere!'
+
+Returning to decent language and conventional tone, he went on with a
+story he was telling about an incident that had happened when he was
+staying with some royalties. His stories were short, new, amusing, and
+invariably suited to his audience. Anything about the Court he saw, at a
+glance, would genuinely interest Madame Frabelle. Edith was amused as
+she saw that lady becoming more and more convinced of Landi's
+importance, and of his respectful admiration.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Long before dinner was over there was no doubt that everyone was
+delighted with Madame Frabelle. She talked so well, suited herself to
+everyone, and simply charmed them all. Yet why? Edith was still
+wondering, but by the time she rose to go upstairs she thought she began
+to understand her friend's secret. People were not charmed with
+Eglantine because she herself was charming, but because she was charmed.
+Madame Frabelle was really as much interested in everyone to whom she
+spoke as she appeared to be; the interest was not assumed. A few little
+pretences and affectations she might have, such as that of knowing a
+great deal about every subject under the sun--of having read everything,
+and been everywhere, but her interest in other people was real. That was
+what made people like her.
+
+Young Coniston, shy, sensitive and reserved as he was, had nevertheless
+told her all about his training at Braintree, the boredom of getting up
+early, the dampness of the tents, and how much he wanted to be sent to
+the front. She admired his valour, was interested in his music, and at
+her persuasion he promised to sing her songs of Araby after dinner.
+
+When the ladies were alone Eglantine's universal fascination was even
+more remarkable. Mrs. Mitchell, at her desire, gave her the address of
+the little dressmaker who ran up Mrs. Mitchell's blouses and skirts.
+This was an honour for Mrs. Mitchell; nothing pleased her so much as to
+be asked for the address of her dressmaker by a woman with a
+foreign name.
+
+As to Miss Coniston, she was enraptured with Eglantine. Madame Frabelle
+arranged to go and see her little exhibition of tooled leather, and
+coaxed out of the shy girl various details about the celebrity, who at
+present had an ambulance in France. She adored reciting, and Miss
+Coniston, to gratify her, offered to recite a poem by Emile Cammaerts
+on the spot.
+
+As to Mr. Mitchell, Madame Frabelle drew him out with more care and
+caution. With the obstinacy of the mistaken she still saw in Mr.
+Mitchell's friendly looks at his hostess a passion for Edith, and shook
+her grey head over the blindness of the poor dear wife.
+
+Bruce hung on her words and was open-mouthed while she spoke, so
+impressed was he at her wonderful cleverness, and at her evident success
+with his friends.
+
+Later on Landi, sitting in the ingle-nook with Edith, said, as he puffed
+a cigar:
+
+'Tiens, ma chere Edith, tu ne vois pas quelque chose?'
+
+'What?'
+
+He always talked French, as a middle course between Italian and English,
+and Edith spoke her own language to him.
+
+'Elle. La Mere Frabelle,' he laughed to himself. 'Elle est folle de ton
+mari!'
+
+'Oh, really, Landi! That's your fancy!'
+
+He mimicked her. 'Farncy! Farncy! Je me suis monte l'imagination,
+peut-etre! J'ai un rien de fievre, sans doute! C'est une idee que j'ai,
+comme ca. Eh bien! Non! Nous verrons. Je te dis qu'elle est amoureuse
+de Bruce.'
+
+'He is very devoted to her, I know,' said Edith, 'and I daresay he's a
+little in love with her--in a way. But she--'
+
+'C'est tout le contraire, chere. Lui, c'est moins; il est flatte. Il la
+trouve une femme intelligente,' he laughed. 'Mais elle! Tu est folle de
+ne pas voir ca, Edith. Enfin! Si ca l'amuse?'
+
+With a laugh he got up, to loud applause, and went to the little white
+enamelled piano. There, with a long cigar in his mouth, he struck a few
+notes, and at once magnetised his audience. The mere touch of his
+fingers on the piano thrilled everyone present.
+
+He sang a composition of his own, which even the piano-organ had never
+succeeded in making hackneyed, 'Adieu, Hiver,' and melodious as only
+Italian music can be. Blue beams flashed from his eyes; he seemed in a
+dream. Suddenly in the most impassioned part, which he was singing in a
+composer's voice, that is, hardly any voice, but with perfect art, he
+caught Madame Frabelle's eye, and gave her a solemn wink. She burst out
+laughing. He then went on singing with sentiment and grace.
+
+All the women present imagined that he was making love to them, while
+each man felt that he, personally, was making love to his ideal woman.
+Such was the effect of Landi's music. It made the most material, even
+the most unmusical, remember some little romance, some _tendresse_, some
+sentiment of the past; Landi seemed to get at the soft spot in
+everybody's heart. All the audience looked dreamy. Edith was thinking of
+Aylmer Ross. Where was he now? Would she ever see him again? Had she
+been wise to throw away her happiness like that? She tried to put the
+thought aside, but she observed, with a smile, that Madame Frabelle
+looked--and not when he was looking at her--a shade tenderly at Bruce.
+
+Edith remembered what Landi had said: 'Si ca l'amuse?' She found an
+opportunity to tell him that Madame Frabelle believed in her own
+intuitions, and had got it into her head that she and Mr. Mitchell were
+attached to one another.
+
+'Naturellement. Elle veut s'excuser; la pauvre.'
+
+'But she really believes it.'
+
+'Elle voit double, alors!' exclaimed Landi.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Edith and Madame Frabelle had long talks next day over the little
+dinner-party, and the people of their intimate circle whom she had met.
+She was delighted with Landi, though a little frightened of him, as most
+people were when they first knew him, unless he really liked them
+immensely.
+
+She impressed on Edith to beware of Mr. Mitchell.
+
+Bruce, for once, had really been satisfied with his own entertainment,
+and declared to Edith that Madame Frabelle had made it go off
+splendidly.
+
+Edith was growing to like her more and more. In a house where Bruce
+lived it was certainly a wonderful help to have a third person often
+present--if it was the right person. The absurd irritations and scenes
+of fault-finding that she had become inured to, but which were always
+trying, were now shorter, milder, or given up altogether. Bruce's temper
+was perennially good, and got better. Then the constant illnesses that
+he used to suffer from--he was unable to pass the military examination
+and go to the front on account of a neurotic heart--these illnesses were
+either omitted entirely or talked over with Madame Frabelle, whose
+advice turned out more successful than that of a dozen specialists.
+
+'An extraordinary woman she is, you know, Edith,' he said. 'You know
+that really peculiar feeling I sometimes have?'
+
+'Which, dear?'
+
+'You know that sort of emptiness in the feet, and heaviness in the head,
+and that curious kind of twitching of the eyelids that I get?'
+
+'Yes, I know. Well, dear?'
+
+'Well, Madame Frabelle has given me a complete cure for it. It seems her
+husband (by the way, what a brute he must have been, and what a life
+that poor woman led! However, never mind that now) had something very
+much of the same kind, only not quite so bad.'
+
+'Which, dear?'
+
+'How do you mean "Which"? Which what?'
+
+'Which peculiar feeling?'
+
+'What peculiar feeling are we talking about?'
+
+'I said, which peculiar feeling did Mr. Frabelle have?'
+
+'What are you trying to get at, Edith?' He looked at her suspiciously.
+
+Edith sighed.
+
+'Was it the heaviness in the feet, or the lightness in the head, or was
+it the twitching of the eyelid which Mr. Frabelle used to suffer from?'
+
+'Oh, ah! Yes, I see what you mean. It seemed he had a little of them
+all. But what do you think she used to do?'
+
+'I haven't the slightest idea.'
+
+'There's some stuff called Tisane--have you ever heard of it?' Bruce
+asked. 'It's a simple remedy, but a very good thing. Well, he used to
+use that.'
+
+'Did he bathe his eye with it?'
+
+'Oh, my dear Edith, you're wool-gathering. Do pull yourself together. He
+drank it, that's what he did, and that's what I'm going to do.
+Eg--Madame Frabelle would go straight down into the kitchen and show you
+how to make it if you like.'
+
+'I don't mind, if cook doesn't,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh, we'll see about that. Anyway she's going to show me how to get it
+made.
+
+'Then there's another thing Madame Frabelle suggested. She's got an idea
+it would do me a world of good to spend a day in the country.'
+
+'Oh, really? Sounds a good idea.'
+
+'Yes. Say, on the river. She's not been there for years it seems. She
+thinks she would rather enjoy it.'
+
+'I should think it would be a capital plan,' said Edith.
+
+'Well, how about next Saturday?' said Bruce, thinking he was concealing
+his eagerness and satisfaction.
+
+'Saturday? Oh yes, certainly. Saturday, by all means, if it's fine. What
+time shall we start?'
+
+He started at once, but was silent.
+
+'Saturday, yes,' Edith went on, after a glance at him. 'Only, I promised
+to take the two children to an afternoon performance.'
+
+'Did you though?' Bruce brightened up. 'Rather hard luck on them to
+disappoint them. Mind you, Edith, I don't believe in spoiling children.
+I don't think their parents should be absolute slaves to them; but, on
+the other hand, I don't think it's good for them to disappoint them
+quite so much as that; and, after all--well, a promise to a child!' He
+shook his head sentimentally. 'Perhaps it's a fad of mine; I daresay it
+is; but I don't like the idea of breaking a promise to a child!'
+
+'It does seem a shame. Too bad.'
+
+'You agree with me? I knew you would. I've heard you say the same
+yourself. Well then, look here, Edith; suppose we do it--suppose you do
+it, I mean. Suppose you go with Archie and Dilly. They're to lunch with
+my mother, aren't they?'
+
+'Yes, dear. But we were to have fetched them from there and then taken
+them on to the theatre!'
+
+'Well, do it, then, my dear girl! Stick to your plan. Don't let me spoil
+your afternoon! Gracious heaven! I--I--why, I can quite well take Madame
+Frabelle myself.' He looked at the barometer. 'The glass is going up,'
+he said, giving it first a tap and then a slight shake to encourage it
+to go up higher and to look sharp about it. 'So that's settled, then,
+dear. That's fixed up. I'll take her on the river. I don't mind in the
+very least. I shall be only too pleased--delighted. Oh, don't thank me,
+my dear girl; I know one ought to put oneself out for a guest,
+especially a widow ... under these circumstances over in England ...
+during the war too ... hang it, it's the least one can do.'... Bruce's
+murmurings were interrupted by the entrance of the lady in question. He
+made the suggestion, and explained the arrangement. She consented
+immediately with much graciousness.
+
+'I dote on the river, and haven't been for years.'
+
+'Now where would you like to go?' he asked. 'What part of the river do
+you like? How about Maidenhead?'
+
+'Oh, any part. Don't ask me! Anything you suggest is sure to be right.
+You know far more about these things than I do. But Maidenhead--isn't it
+just a little commonplace? A little noisy and crowded, even now?'
+
+'By jove, yes, you're quite right. Madame Frabelle's perfectly right,
+Edith, you know. Well, what about Shepperton?'
+
+'Shepperton? Oh, charming! Dear little town. But it isn't exactly what I
+call the river, if you know what I mean. I mean to say--'
+
+'Well, could you suggest a place?' said Bruce.
+
+'Oh, I'm the worst person in the world for suggesting anything,' said
+Madame Frabelle. 'And I know so little of the river. But how about
+Kingston?'
+
+'Kingston? Oh, capital. That would be charming.'
+
+'Kyngestown, as it used to be called' (Madame Frabelle hastened to show
+her knowledge) 'in the days when Saxon kings were crowned there. Am I
+wrong or not? Oh, surely yes.... Wasn't it Kingston? Didn't great Caesar
+cross the river there? And the Roman legions camp upon the
+sloping uplands?'
+
+Bruce gasped. 'You know everything!' he exclaimed.
+
+'Oh no. I remember a little about the history,' she said modestly, 'Ah,
+poor, weak King Edwy!'
+
+'Yes, indeed,' said Bruce, though he had no recollection of having heard
+the gentleman mentioned before. 'Poor chap!'
+
+'Too bad,' murmured Edith.
+
+'How he must have hated that place!' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Rather. I should think so indeed.'
+
+'However, _you_ won't,' said Edith adroitly changing the subject, seeing
+her husband getting deeper out of his depth.
+
+Most of the evening Madame Frabelle read up Baedeker, to the immense
+astonishment of Bruce, who had never before thought of regarding the
+river from the historical and geographical point of view.
+
+The next day, which was fine, if not warm, the two started off with a
+certain amount of bustle and a bundle of rugs, Madame Frabelle in a
+short skirt with a maritime touch about the collar and what she called a
+suitable hat and a dark blue motor veil. She carried off the whole
+costume to admiration.
+
+Archie seemed rather bewildered and annoyed at this division of the
+party.
+
+'But, Mother, we're going out to lunch with grandmother.'
+
+'I know, darling. I'll come and fetch you from there.'
+
+Conventional and restrained as Archie usually was, he sometimes said
+curious things.
+
+Edith saw by his dreamy expression he was going to say one now.
+
+He looked at her for a little while after his father's departure and
+then asked:
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, darling.'
+
+'Is Madame Frabelle a nice little friend for father?'
+
+Edith knew he had often heard her and the nurse or the governess
+discussing whether certain children were nice little friends for him
+or Dilly.
+
+'Oh yes, dear, very nice.'
+
+'Oh.'
+
+The cook came in for orders.
+
+'You're going to lunch all alone then, aren't you, Mother?'
+
+'Yes, I suppose I must. I don't mind. I've got a nice book.'
+
+Archie walked slowly to the door, then said in a tone of envious
+admiration which contained a note of regret:
+
+'I suppose you'll order a delicious pudding?'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She went to fetch the children, who were excited at the prospect of a
+theatre. The elder Mrs Ottley was a pleasant woman, who understood and
+was utterly devoted to her daughter-in-law. Fond as she was of her son,
+she marvelled at Edith's patience and loved her as much as she loved
+Bruce. Though she had never been told, for she was the sort of woman who
+does not require to be told things in order to know them, she knew every
+detail of the sacrifice Edith had once made. She had been almost as
+charmed by Aylmer Ross as her daughter-in-law was, and she had
+considered Edith's action nearly sublime. But she had never believed
+Edith was at that time really in love with Aylmer. She had said, after
+Bruce's return: 'It mustn't happen again, you know, Edith.'
+
+'What mustn't?'
+
+'Don't spoil Bruce. You've made it almost too easy for him. Don't let
+him think he can always be running away and coming back!'
+
+'No, never again,' Edith had answered, with a laugh.
+
+Now they never spoke of the subject. It was a painful one to Mrs Ottley.
+
+Today that lady seemed inclined to detain Edith, and make her--as Archie
+feared--late for the rising of the curtain.
+
+'You really like Madame Frabelle so much, dear?'
+
+'Really I do,' said Edith. 'The more I know her, the more I like her.
+She's the most good-natured, jolly, kind woman I've ever seen. Landi
+likes her too. That's a good sign.'
+
+'And she keeps Bruce in a good temper?' said Mrs Ottley slyly.
+
+'Well, why shouldn't she? I'm not afraid of Madame Frabelle,' Edith
+said, laughing. 'After all, Bruce may be thirty-seven, but she's fifty.'
+
+'She's a wonderful woman,' admitted Mrs. Ottley, who had at first
+disliked her, but had come round, like everyone else. 'Very very nice;
+and really I do like her. But you know my old-fashioned ideas. I never
+approve of a third person living with a married couple.'
+
+'Oh--living! She's only been with us about a month.'
+
+'But you don't think she's going away before the end of the season?'
+
+'You can't call it a season. And she can't easily settle down just now,
+on account of the war. Many of her relations are abroad, and some in the
+country. She hasn't made up her mind where to live yet. She has never
+had a house of her own since her husband died.'
+
+'Yes, I see.'
+
+'Do come, Mother!' urged Archie.
+
+'All right, darling.'
+
+'Will I have to take my hat off?' pouted Dilly, who had on a new hat
+with daisies round it, in which she looked like a baby angel. She had a
+great objection to removing it.
+
+'Yes, dear. Why should you mind?'
+
+'My hair will be all anyhow if I have to take it off in the theatre,'
+said Dilly.
+
+'Don't be a silly little ass,' Archie murmured to his sister. 'Why, in
+some countries women would be sent to prison unless they took their hats
+off at a play!'
+
+The three reached the theatre in what even Archie called good time. This
+meant to be alone in the dark, gloomy theatre for at least twenty
+minutes, no-one present as yet, except two or three people eating
+oranges in the gallery. He liked to be the first and the last.
+
+Edith was fancying to herself how Madame Frabelle would lay down the law
+about the history of Kingston, and read portions of the guide-book
+aloud, while Bruce was pointing out the scenery.
+
+The entertainment, which was all odds and ends, entertained the
+children, but rather bored her. Archie was learning by heart--which was
+a way he had--the words of a favourite song now being sung--
+
+  'Kitty, Kitty, isn't it a pity,
+  In the city you work so hard,--
+  With your one, two, three, four, five,
+  Six, three, seven, five, Cerrard?
+
+  Kitty, Kitty, isn't it a pity,
+  That you're wasting so much time?
+  With your lips close to the telephone,
+  When they might be close to mine_!'
+
+When Edith's eye was suddenly attracted by the appearance of a boy in
+khakis, who was in a box to her right. He looked about seventeen and was
+tall and good-looking; but what struck her about him was his remarkable
+likeness in appearance and in movement to Aylmer Ross. Even his back
+reminded her strongly of her hero. There was something familiar in the
+thick, broad shoulders, in the cool ease of manner, and in the
+expression of the face. But could that young man--why, of course, it was
+three years ago when she parted with Aylmer Ross, Teddy was fourteen;
+these years made a great difference and of course all plans had been
+changed on account of the war. Aylmer, she thought, was too old to have
+been at the front. The boy must be in the New Army.
+
+She watched him perpetually; she felt a longing to go and speak to him.
+After a while, as though attracted by her interest, he turned round and
+looked her straight in the face. How thrilled she felt at this
+likeness.... They were the very last to go out, and Edith contrived to
+be near the party in the box. She dropped something and the young man
+picked it up. She had never seen him, and yet she felt she knew him.
+When he smiled she could not resist speaking to him.
+
+'Thank you. Excuse me. Are you the son of Mr. Aylmer Ross?'
+
+'I am. And I know you quite well by your photograph,' he said in exactly
+Aylmer's pleasant, casual voice. 'You were a great friend of my
+father's, weren't you?'
+
+'Yes. Where are you now?'
+
+He was at Aldershot, but was in town on leave.
+
+'And where's your father?'
+
+'Didn't you know? My father's at the front. He's coming over on leave,
+too, in a fortnight.'
+
+'Really? And are you still at Jermyn Street?'
+
+'Oh yes. Father let his house for three years, but we've come back
+again. Jolly little house, isn't it?'
+
+'Very. And I hope we shall see you both,' said Edith conventionally.
+
+The boy bowed, smiled and walked away so quickly that Archie had no time
+for the salute he had prepared.
+
+He was wonderfully like Aylmer.
+
+Edith was curiously pleased and excited about this little incident.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Madame Frabelle and Bruce arrived at Waterloo in good time for the 11.10
+train, which Bruce had discovered in the ABC.
+
+They wished to know where it started, but nobody appeared interested in
+the subject. Guards and porters, of whom they inquired, seemed surprised
+at their questions and behaved as if they regarded them as signs of
+vulgar and impertinent curiosity. At Waterloo no-one seems to know when
+a train is going to start, where it is starting from, or where it is
+going to. Madame Frabelle unconsciously assumed an air of embarrassment,
+as though she had no responsibility for the queries and excited manner
+of her companion. She seemed, indeed, surprised when Bruce asked to see
+the station-master. Here things came to a head. There was no train for
+Kingston at 11.10; the one at that hour was the Southampton Express; and
+it was worse than useless for Bruce and Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Then the ABC and Bradshaw must both be wrong,' said Bruce reproachfully
+to Madame Frabelle.
+
+An idea occurred to that resourceful lady. 'Perhaps the 11.10 was only
+to start on other days, not on Saturdays.'
+
+She turned out to be right. However, they discovered a train at twenty
+minutes to twelve, which would take them where they wanted, though it
+was not mentioned, apparently, in any timetable, and could only be
+discovered by accident by someone who was looking for something else.
+
+They hung about the station until it arrived, feeling awkward and
+uncomfortable, as people do when they have arrived too early for a
+train. Meanwhile they abused Bradshaw, and discussed the weather. Bruce
+said how wonderful it was how some people always knew what sort of
+weather it was going to be. Madame Frabelle, who was getting
+sufficiently irritable to be epigrammatic, said that she never cared to
+know what the weather was going to be; the weather in England was
+generally bad enough when it came without the added misery of knowing
+about it beforehand.
+
+Bruce complained that she was too Continental. He very nearly said that
+if she didn't like England he wondered she hadn't remained in France,
+but he stopped himself.
+
+At last the train arrived. Bruce had settled his companion with her back
+to the engine in a corner of a first-class carriage, and placed her rugs
+in the rack above. As they will on certain days, every little thing went
+wrong, and the bundle promptly fell off. As she moved to catch it, it
+tumbled on to her hat, nearly crushing the crown. Unconsciously assuming
+the expression of a Christian martyr, Madame Frabelle said it didn't
+matter. Bruce had given her _The Gentlewoman_, _The World_, _The Field_,
+_Punch_, and _The London Mail_ to occupy the twenty-five minutes or so
+while they waited for the train to start. The journey itself was much
+shorter than this interval. Knowing her varied interests, he felt sure
+that these journals would pretty well cover the ground, but he was
+rather surprised, as he took the seat opposite her, to see that she read
+first, in fact instantly started, with apparent interest, on _The London
+Mail_. With a quick glance he saw that she was enjoying 'What Everybody
+Wants to Know'--'Why the Earl of Blank looked so surprised when he met
+the pretty little blonde lady who had been said to be the friend of his
+wife walking in Bond Street with a certain dark gentleman who until now
+he had always understood to be her _bete noire_,' and so forth.
+
+As an example to her he took up _The New Statist_ and read a serious
+article.
+
+When they arrived it was fine and sunny, and they looked at once for a
+boat.
+
+It had not occurred to him before that there would be any difficulty in
+getting one. He imagined a smart new boat all ready for him, with fresh,
+gay cushions, and everything complete and suitable to himself and his
+companion. He was rather irritated when he found instead that the best
+they could do for him was to give him a broken-down, battered-looking
+thing like an old chest, which was to be charged rather heavily for the
+time they meant to spend on the river. It looked far from safe, but it
+was all they could do. So they got in. Bruce meant to show his powers as
+an oarsman. He said Madame Frabelle must steer and asked her to trim
+the boat.
+
+In obedience to his order she sat down with a bang, so heavily that
+Bruce was nearly shot up into the air. Amiable as she always was, and
+respectfully devoted as Bruce was to her, he found that being on the
+river has a mysterious power of bringing out any defects of temper that
+people have concealed when on dry ground. He said to her:
+
+'Don't do that again. Do you mind?' as politely as he could.
+
+She looked up, surprised.
+
+'I beg your pardon, Mr Ottley?'
+
+'Don't do that again.'
+
+'Don't do what? What did I do?'
+
+'Why, I asked you to trim the boat.'
+
+'What did I do? I merely sat down.'
+
+He didn't like to say that she shouldn't sit down with a bump, and took
+his place.
+
+'If you like,' she said graciously, 'I'll relieve you there, presently.'
+
+'How do you mean--relieve me?'
+
+'I mean I'll row--I'll sit in the stern--row!'
+
+'Perhaps you've forgotten the names of the different parts of a boat.
+Madame Frabelle?'
+
+'Oh, I think not, Mr Ottley. It's a good while since I was on the river,
+but it's not the sort of thing one forgets, and I'm supposed to have
+rather a good memory.'
+
+'I'm sure you have--a wonderful memory--still, where I'm sitting is not
+the stern.'
+
+There was a somewhat sulky silence. They admired the scenery of the
+river. Madame Frabelle said she loved the distant glimpses of the grey
+old palace of the Tudors, and asked him if he could imagine what it was
+like when it was gay all day with the clanking of steel and prancing
+horses and things.
+
+'How I love Hampton Court!' she said. 'It looks so quiet and peaceful. I
+think I should like to live there. Think of the evenings in that
+wonderful old place, with its panelled walls, and the echo of feet that
+are no longer there, down the cold, stone corridors--'
+
+Bruce gave a slight laugh.
+
+'Echo of feet that are no longer there? But how could that be? Dear me,
+how poetical you are, Madame Frabelle!'
+
+'I mean the imaginary echo.'
+
+'Imaginary--ah, yes. You're very imaginative, aren't you, Madame
+Frabelle? Well, I don't know whether it's imagination or not, but, do
+you know, I fancy that queer feeling of mine seems to be coming
+on again.'
+
+'What queer feeling?'
+
+'I told you about it, and you were very sympathetic the other night,
+before dinner. A kind of emptiness in the feet, and a hollowness in the
+head, the feeling almost, but not quite, of faintness.'
+
+'It's nearly two o'clock. Perhaps you're hungry,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+Bruce thought this was not fair, putting all the hunger on to him, as if
+she had never felt anything so prosaic. Madame Frabelle always behaved
+as if she were superior to the weaknesses of hunger or sleep, and denied
+ever suffering from either.
+
+'It may be. I had no breakfast,' said Bruce untruthfully, as though it
+were necessary to apologise for requiring food to sustain life.
+
+'Nor did I,' said Madame Frabelle hastily.
+
+'Well, don't you feel that you would like a little lunch?'
+
+'Oh no--oh dear, no. Still, I dare say some food would do you good, Mr
+Ottley--keep you up. I'll come and watch you.'
+
+'But you must have something too.'
+
+'Must I? Oh, very well, just to keep you company.'
+
+They got out very briskly, and, leaving their battered-looking coffin
+(called ironically the _Belle of the River_), they walked with quick
+steps to the nearest hotel. Here they found a selection of large,
+raw-looking cold beef, damp, tired-looking ham, bread, cheese, celery,
+and dessert in the form of dry apples, oranges, and Brazil nuts that had
+long left their native land.
+
+Bruce decided that the right thing to drink was shandy-gaff, but, to
+keep up her Continental reputation, Madame Frabelle said she would like
+a little light wine of the country.
+
+'Red, white, or blue?' asked Bruce, whose spirits were rising.
+
+She laughed very heartily, and decided on a little red.
+
+They had an adequate, if not exquisite, lunch, then Madame Frabelle said
+she would like to go over Hampton Court. A tedious guide offered to go
+with them, but Madame Frabelle said she knew all about the place better
+than he did, so they wandered through the beautiful old palace.
+
+'Oh, to think of King Charles II's beauties living there--those lovely,
+languid ladies--how charming they were!' exclaimed Madame Frabelle.
+
+'They wore very low dresses,' said Bruce, who felt rather sleepy and
+stupid, and as if he didn't quite know what he was saying.
+
+Madame Frabelle modestly looked away from the pictures.
+
+'How exquisite the garden is.'
+
+He agreed, and they went out and sat, somewhat awkwardly, on an
+uncomfortable stone seat.
+
+There was a delicious half-hour of real summer sun--'One of those April
+days that seem a forecast of June,' as Madame Frabelle said.
+
+'How much better it is to be here in the beautiful fresh air than
+squeezed into a stuffy theatre,' remarked Bruce, who was really feeling
+a shade jealous of Edith for seeing the revue that he had wished to see.
+
+'Yes, indeed. There's nothing like England, I think,' she said rather
+irrelevantly.
+
+'How exactly our tastes agree.'
+
+'Do they?'
+
+Her hand was on the edge of the seat. Somehow or other Bruce's had gone
+over it. She didn't appear to notice it.
+
+'What small hands you have!' he remarked.
+
+'Oh no! I take sixes,' said the lady, whose size was really
+three-quarters more than that.
+
+He insisted on looking at the grey suede glove, and then examined her
+rings.
+
+'I suppose these rings have--er--associations for you, Madame Frabelle?'
+
+'Ah!' she said, shaking her head. 'This one--yes, this one--the sapphire
+recalls old memories.' She sighed; she had bought it in the
+Brompton Road.
+
+'A present from your husband, I suppose?' said Bruce, with a tinge of
+bitterness.
+
+'Ah!' she answered.
+
+She thought he was getting a little sentimental, too early in the day,
+and, with an effort at energy, she said:
+
+'Let's go back to the river.'
+
+They went back, and now Bruce began to show off his rowing powers. He
+had not practised for a long time, and didn't get along very quickly.
+She admired his athletic talents, as though he had been a winner of the
+Diamond Sculls.
+
+'If I'd stuck to it, you know,' he said, rather apologetically, 'I'd
+have done well in the rowing line. At one time--a good while ago--I
+thought of going in for Henley, in the Regatta, you know. But with that
+beastly Foreign Office one can't keep up anything of that sort.'
+
+'I suppose not.'
+
+'My muscle,' said Bruce, sticking out his arm, and hitting it rather
+hard, 'is fairly good, you know. Not bad for a London man who never has
+any practice.'
+
+'No indeed.'
+
+'My arm was about seventeen inches round just below the elbow at one
+time,' Bruce said, 'a few years ago.'
+
+'Just fancy! Splendid!' said Madame Frabelle, who remembered that her
+waist was not much more a good while ago.
+
+He told her a good many anecdotes of his prowess in the past, until
+tea-time.
+
+Madame Frabelle depended greatly on tea; anything else she could do
+without. But a cup of tea in the afternoon was necessary to her
+well-being, and her animation. She became rather drowsy and absent by
+four o'clock.
+
+Bruce again suggested their landing and leaving the _Belle of the
+River_, as they had not thought of bringing a tea-basket.
+
+After tea, which was a great success, they became very cheery and jolly.
+They went for a walk and then back to their boat.
+
+This was the happiest time of the day.
+
+When they reached the station, about half-past six, they found a
+disagreeable crowd, pushing, screaming, and singing martial songs. As
+they got into their first-class carriage about a dozen third-class
+passengers sprang in, just as the train started. Bruce was furious, but
+nothing could be done, and the journey back to town was taken with
+Madame Frabelle very nearly pushed on to his knee by a rude young man
+who practically sat on hers, smoking a bad cigarette in her face.
+
+They tacitly agreed to say nothing about this, and got home in time for
+dinner, declaring the day to have been a great success.
+
+Bruce had really enjoyed it. Madame Frabelle said she had; though she
+had a certain little tenderness, half of a motherly kind, for Bruce, she
+far preferred his society in a comfortable house. She didn't really
+think he was the ideal companion for the open air. And he was struck, as
+he had often been before, by her curious way of contradicting herself in
+conversation. She took any side and argued in favour of it so long as it
+was striking or romantic. At one moment she would say with the greatest
+earnestness, for instance, that divorce should not be allowed. Marriage
+should be for ever, or not at all. At another moment she would argue in
+favour of that absurd contradiction in terms known as free love,
+_forgetting_ that she had completely changed round since earlier in the
+conversation. This was irritating, but he was still impressed with her
+infallibility, and Edith remarked more every day how curious that
+infallibility was, and how safe it was to trust. Whenever Madame
+Frabelle knew that something was going to happen, it didn't, and
+whenever she had an intuition that something was going to occur, _then_
+it was pretty safe. It never would. In the same way she had only to look
+at a person to see them as they were not. This was so invariable it was
+really very convenient to have her in the house, for whatever she said
+was always wrong. One had _merely_ to go by contraries and her
+prophecies were most useful.
+
+'It's been jolly for you,' Bruce said to Edith, 'having a ripping time
+in town while I'm taking your visitors about to show them England.'
+
+'You wouldn't have cared for the theatre,' she said. 'But, fancy, I met
+Aylmer's son there--Aylmer Ross, you know. Aylmer himself is at the
+front. They have taken their old house again. He means to come
+back there.'
+
+'Well, I really can't help it,' said Bruce rather fretfully. '_I_ should
+be at the front if it weren't for my neurotic heart. The doctor wouldn't
+hear of passing me--at least one wouldn't. Any fellow who would have
+done so would be--not a careful man. However, I don't know that it
+wouldn't have been just as good to die for my country, and get some
+glory, as to die of heart trouble here.' He sighed.
+
+'Oh no, you won't,' said Edith reassuringly; 'you look the picture of
+health.'
+
+'I've got a bit of sunburn, I think,' said Bruce, popping up to look in
+the glass. 'Funny how I do catch the sun. I asked Dr Pollock about
+it one day.'
+
+'Really--did you consult him about your sunburn?'
+
+'Yes. What are you smiling at, He said it's caused by the extreme
+delicacy of the mucous membrane; nothing to be anxious about.'
+
+'I don't think I am anxious; not particularly. And don't worry, my dear
+boy; it's very becoming,' said Edith.
+
+Bruce patted her head, and gave her a kiss, smiling.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+'We're lunching with the Mitchells today,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh yes. I remember. I'm looking forward to it,' graciously said Madame
+Frabelle. 'It's a pity your husband can't come, isn't it? Ah, you
+naughty girl, I don't believe you think so!' Madame Frabelle, archly
+shook her finger at Edith.
+
+'Eglantine, have you really seriously talked yourself into thinking that
+Mr Mitchell is anything to me?'
+
+'I don't say, dear,' said Madame Frabelle, sitting down comfortably, and
+bringing out her knitting, 'that you yourself are aware of it. I don't
+say that you're in love with him, but that he is devoted to you anyone
+with half-an-eye can see. And some day,' she shook her head, 'some day
+your interest in him may take you by surprise.'
+
+'It is _your_ interest in him that surprises me,' said Edith. 'He's a
+good friend, and we like him very much. But for anything else!--'
+
+'If so, it's really rather wonderful,' mused Eglantine, 'that you've
+never had a thought, even the merest dream, beyond your husband; that it
+has never even occurred to you that anyone else might have suited your
+temperament better.'
+
+Edith dropped her book, and picked it up again. Her friend thought she
+saw, whether through stooping or what not, an increase of colour in
+her face.
+
+'It isn't everyone,' continued Madame Frabelle, 'who would appreciate
+your husband as you do. To me he is a very charming man. I can
+understand his inspiring a feeling almost of motherly interest. I even
+feel sometimes,' she laughed, 'as if it would be a pleasure to look
+after him, take care of him. I think it would not have been a bad thing
+for him to have married a woman a little older than himself. But you,
+Edith, you're so young. You see, you might have made a mistake when you
+married him. You were a mere girl, and I could imagine some of his ways
+might irritate a very young woman.'
+
+After a moment she went on: 'I suppose Bruce was very handsome when you
+married him?'
+
+'Yes, he was. But he hasn't altered much.'
+
+'Yet, as I told you before, Edith, though I think you an ideal wife, you
+don't give me the impression of being in love with him. I hope you don't
+take this as an impertinence, my dear?'
+
+'Not at all. And I'm not sure that I am.'
+
+'Yet your mother-in-law told me the other day that you had been such a
+marvellous wife to him. That you had even made sacrifices. You have
+never had anything to forgive, surely?'
+
+'Oh no, never,' hastily said Edith, fearing that Mrs Ottley was a little
+inclined to be indiscreet.
+
+'She told me that Bruce had been occasionally attracted--only very
+slightly--by other women, but that you were the only person he really
+cared for.'
+
+'Oh, I doubt if he ever thinks much of anyone else,' said Edith.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A characteristic of the Mitchells' entertainments was that one always
+met there the people they had met, even for the first time, at one's own
+house. Here were the Conistons, and Landi, whom Edith was always
+delighted to see.
+
+It was a large and gay lunch. Edith was placed some distance from Mr
+Mitchell. Of course there was also a novelty--some lion or other was
+always at the Mitchells'. Today it consisted of a certain clergyman,
+called the Rev. Byrne Fraser, of whom Mrs Mitchell and her circle were
+making much. He was a handsome, weary-looking man of whom more was
+supposed than could conveniently be said. His wife, who adored him,
+admitted that though he was an excellent husband, he suffered from
+rheumatism and religious doubts, which made him occasionally rather
+trying. There had been some story about him--nobody knew what it was.
+Madame Frabelle instantly took his side, and said she was sure he had
+been ill-treated, though she knew nothing whatever about it. She was
+placed next to him at table and began immediately on what she thought
+was his special subject.
+
+'I understand that you're very modern in your views,' she said, smiling.
+
+'I!' he exclaimed in some surprise. 'Really you are quite mistaken. I
+don't think I am at all.'
+
+'Really? Oh, I'm so glad--I've such a worship myself for tradition. I'm
+so thankful that you have, too.'
+
+'I don't know that I have,' he said.
+
+'It's true, then, what I heard--I felt it was the moment I looked at
+you, Mr Fraser--I mean, that you're an atheist.'
+
+'A _what_?' he exclaimed, turning pale with horror. 'Good heavens,
+Madame, do you know what my profession is?'
+
+He seemed utterly puzzled by her. She managed, all the same, somehow or
+other to lure him into a conversation in which she _heartily_ took his
+side. By the end of lunch they were getting on splendidly, though
+neither of them knew what they were talking about.
+
+And this was one of the curious characteristics of Madame Frabelle.
+Nobody made so many gaffes, yet no-one got out of them so well. To use
+the lawyer's phrase, she used so many words that she managed to engulf
+her own and her interlocutor's ideas. No-one, perhaps, had ever talked
+so much nonsense seriously as she did that day, but the Rev. Byrne
+Fraser said she was a remarkable woman, who had read and thought deeply.
+Also he was enchanted with her interest in him, as everybody always was.
+
+Edith thought she had heard Mr Mitchell saying something to the others
+that interested her. She managed to get near him when the gentlemen
+joined them in the studio, as they called the large room where there was
+a stage, a piano, a parquet floor, and every possible arrangement for
+amusement. Madame Frabelle moved quickly away, supposing that Edith
+wished to speak to him for his sake, whereas really it was in order to
+have repeated something she thought she had heard at lunch.
+
+'Did I hear you saying anything about your old friend, Aylmer Ross?' she
+asked.
+
+'Yes, indeed. Haven't you heard? The poor fellow has been wounded. He
+was taken into hospital at once, fortunately, and he's getting better,
+and is going to be brought home almost immediately, to the same old
+house in Jermyn Street. I think his son is to meet him at the station
+today. We must all go and see him. Capital chap, Aylmer. I always liked
+him. He's travelled so much that--even before the war--I hadn't seen him
+for three years.'
+
+'Was the wound serious?' asked Edith, who had turned pale.
+
+'They were anxious at first. Now he's out of danger. But, poor chap, I'm
+afraid he won't be able to move for a good while. His leg is broken. I
+hear he's got to be kept lying down two or three months.'
+
+'Qu'est ce qu'il y a, Edith?' asked Landi, who joined her.
+
+'I've just heard some bad news,' she said, 'but don't speak about it.'
+
+She told him.
+
+'Bien. Du calme, mon enfant; du calme!'
+
+'But, I'm anxious, Landi.'
+
+'Ca se voit!'
+
+'Do you think--'
+
+'Ce ne sera rien. It's the best thing that could happen to him. He'll be
+all right.... I suppose you want to see him, Edith?'
+
+'He may not wish to see me,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh yes, he will. You were the first person he thought of,' answered
+Landi. 'Why, my dear, you forget you treated him badly!'
+
+'Then, if he'd treated _me_ badly he wouldn't care to see me again, you
+mean?'
+
+'C'est probable,' said Landi, selecting with care a very large cigar
+from a box that was being handed round. 'Now, be quite tranquil. I shall
+go and see him directly I leave here, and I'll let you hear every
+detail. Will that do?'
+
+'Thanks, dear Landi!... But even if he wishes to see me, ought I to
+go?'
+
+'That I don't know. But you will.'
+
+He lighted the long cigar.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Next morning Edith, who always came down to breakfast, though somewhat
+late, found on her plate a letter from Lady Conroy, that most vague and
+forgetful of all charming Irishwomen. It said:
+
+'My DEAR MRS OTTLEY,
+
+Do excuse my troubling you, but could you give me a little information?
+Someone has asked me about Madame Frabelle. I know that she is a friend
+of yours, and is staying with you, and I said so; also I have a sort of
+idea that she was, in some way, connected with you by marriage or
+relationship, but of that I was not quite sure. I fancy that it is due
+to you that I have the pleasure of knowing her, anyhow.
+
+'Could you tell me who she was before she married? What her husband was,
+and anything else about her? That she is most charming and a very clever
+woman I know, of course, already. To say she is a friend of yours is
+enough to say that, but the rest I forget.
+
+'Hoping you will forgive my troubling you, and that you are all very
+well, I remain, yours most sincerely.
+
+'KATHLEEN CONROY
+
+'P.S.--I began to take some lessons in nursing when I came across a most
+charming and delightful girl, called Dulcie Clay. Do you happen to know
+her at all? Her father married again and she was not happy at home, and,
+having no money, she went in for nursing, seriously (not as I did), but
+I'm afraid she is not strong enough for the profession. Remember me to
+Madame Frabelle.'
+
+Edith passed the letter to Bruce.
+
+'Isn't this too delightful?' she said; 'and exactly like her? She sends
+Madame Frabelle to me with a letter of introduction, and then asks me
+who she is!'
+
+'Well,' said Bruce, who saw nothing of the absurdity of the situation,
+'Lady Conroy is a most charming person. It looks almost as if she wanted
+to decline responsibility. I wouldn't annoy her for the world. You must
+give her all the information she wants, of course.'
+
+'But all I know I only know from her.'
+
+'Exactly. Well, tell her what she told you. Madame Frabelle told us
+candidly she made her acquaintance at the hotel! But it's absurd to tell
+Lady Conroy that back! We can't!'
+
+Edith found the original letter of introduction, after some searching,
+and wrote to Lady Conroy to say that she understood Madame Frabelle, who
+was no connection of hers, was a clever, interesting woman, who wished
+to study English life in her native land. She was '_of good family; she
+had been a Miss Eglantine Pollard, and was the widow of a well-to-do
+French wine merchant_.' (This was word for word what Lady Conroy had
+told her.) She went on to say that she '_believed Madame Frabelle had
+several friends and connections in London_.'
+
+'The Mitchells, for instance,' suggested Bruce.
+
+'Yes, that's a good idea. "_She knows the Mitchells very well_,"' Edith
+went on writing. '"_I think you know them also; they are very great
+friends of ours. Mr Mitchell is in the Foreign Office_."'
+
+'And the Conistons?' suggested Bruce.
+
+'Yes. "_She knows the Conistons; the nice young brother and sister we
+are so fond of. She has other friends in London, I believe, but she has
+not troubled to look them up. The more one sees of her the more one
+likes her. She is most charming and amiable and makes friends wherever
+she goes. I don't think I know anything more than this, dear Lady
+Conroy. Yours very sincerely, Edith Ottley. P.S.--I have not met Miss
+Dulcie Clay_."'
+
+Bruce was satisfied with this letter. Edith herself thought it the most
+amusing letter she had ever written.
+
+'The clergyman whom she met at lunch yesterday, by the way,' said Bruce,
+'wouldn't it sound well to mention him?'
+
+Edith good-naturedly laughed, and added to the letter: '"_The Rev. Byrne
+Fraser knows our friend also, and seems to like her_."'
+
+'The only thing is,' said Bruce, after a moment's pause, 'perhaps that
+might do her harm with Lady Conroy, although he's a clergyman. There
+have been some funny stories about the Rev. Byrne Fraser.'
+
+'He certainly liked her,' said Edith. 'He wrote her a long letter last
+night, after meeting her at lunch, to go on with their argument, or
+conversation, or whatever it was, and she's going to hear him preach
+on Sunday.'
+
+'Do you feel she would wish Lady Conroy to know that she's a friend of
+the Rev. Byrne Fraser?' asked Bruce.
+
+'Oh, I think so; or I wouldn't have said it.'
+
+Edith was really growing more and more loyal in her friendship. There
+certainly was something about Madame Frabelle that everybody, clever and
+stupid alike, seemed to be attracted by.
+
+Later Edith received a telephone call from Landi. He told her that he
+had seen Aylmer, who was going on well, that he had begged to see her,
+and had been allowed by his doctor and nurse to receive a visit from her
+on Saturday next. He said that Aylmer had been agitated because his boy
+was going almost immediately to the front. He seemed very pleased at the
+idea of seeing her again.
+
+Edith looked forward with a certain excitement to Saturday.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A day or two later Edith received a letter from Lady Conroy, saying:
+
+'MY DEAR EDITH,
+
+Thank you so much for your nice letter. I remember now, of course,
+Madame Frabelle was a friend of the Mitchells, whom I know so well, and
+like so much. What dears they are! Please remember me to them. I knew
+that she had a friend who was a clergyman, but I wasn't quite sure who
+it was. I suppose it must have been this Mr Fraser. She was a Miss
+Pollard, you know, a very good family, and, as I always understood, the
+more one knows of her the better one likes her.
+
+'Thanks again for your note. I am longing to see you, and shall call
+directly I come to London. Ever yours,
+
+'KATHLEEN CONROY
+
+'P.S.--Madame F's husband was a French wine merchant, and a very
+charming man, I believe. By the way, also, she knows the Conistons, I
+believe, and no doubt several people we both know. Miss Clay has gone to
+London with one of her patients.'
+
+Bruce didn't understand why Edith was so much amused by this letter, nor
+why she said that she should soon write and ask Lady Conroy who Madame
+Frabelle was, and that she would probably answer that she was a great
+friend of Edith's and of the Mitchells, and the Rev. Byrne Fraser.
+
+'She seems a little doubtful about Fraser, doesn't she?' Bruce said.
+
+'I mean Lady Conroy. Certainly she's got rather a funny memory; she
+doesn't seem to have the slightest idea that she sent her to you with a
+letter of introduction. Now we've taken all the responsibility on
+ourselves.'
+
+'Well, really I don't mind,' said Edith. 'What does it matter? There's
+obviously no harm in Madame Frabelle, and never could have been.'
+
+'She's a very clever woman,' said Bruce. 'I'm always interested when I
+hear what she has to say about people. I don't mind telling you that I'm
+nearly always guided by it.'
+
+'So am I,' said Edith.
+
+Indeed Edith did sincerely regard her opinion as very valuable. She
+found her so invariably wrong that she was quite a useful guide. She was
+never quite sure of her own judgement until Madame Frabelle had
+contradicted it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Edith went to call on Aylmer in the little brown house in Jermyn
+Street, she was shown first into the dining-room.
+
+In a few minutes a young girl dressed as a nurse came in to speak to
+her.
+
+She seemed very shy and spoke in a soft voice.
+
+'I'm Miss Clay,' she said. 'I've been nursing for the last six months,
+but I'm not very strong and was afraid I would have to give it up when I
+met Mr Ross at Boulogne. He was getting on so well that I came back to
+look after him and I shall stay until he is quite well, I think.'
+
+Evidently this was the Dulcie Clay Lady Conroy had mentioned. Edith was
+much struck by her. She was a really beautiful girl, with but one slight
+defect, which some people perhaps, would have rather admired--her skin
+was rather too dark, and a curious contrast to her beautiful blue eyes.
+As a rule the combination of blue eyes and dark hair goes with a fair
+complexion. Dulcie Clay had a brown skin, clear and pale, such as
+usually goes with the Spanish type of brunette. But for this curious
+darkness, which showed up her dazzling white teeth, she was quite
+lovely. It was a sweet, sensitive face, and her blue eyes, with long
+eyelashes like little feathers, were charming in their soft expression.
+Her smile was very sweet, though she had a look of melancholy. There was
+something touching about her.
+
+She was below the usual height, slight and graceful. Her hair, parted in
+the middle, was arranged in the Madonna style in two thick natural waves
+each side of her face.
+
+She had none of the bustling self-confidence of the lady nurse, but was
+very gentle and diffident. Surely Aylmer must be in love with her,
+thought Edith.
+
+Then Miss Clay said, in her low voice:
+
+'You are Mrs Ottley, aren't you? I knew you at once.'
+
+'Did you? How was that?'
+
+A little colour came into the pale, dark face.
+
+'Mr Ross has a little photograph of you,' she said, 'and once when he
+was very ill he gave me your name and address and asked me to send it to
+you if anything happened.'
+
+As she said that her eyes filled with tears.
+
+'Oh, but he'll be all right now, won't he?' asked Edith, with a feeling
+of sympathy for Miss Clay, and a desire to cheer the girl.
+
+'Yes, I think he'll be all right now,' she said. 'Do come up.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+It was a curious thing about Madame Frabelle that, though she was
+perfectly at ease in any society, and really had seen a good deal of the
+world, all her notions of life were taken from the stage. She looked
+upon existence from the theatrical point of view. Everyone was to her a
+hero or a heroine, a villain or a victim. To her a death was a
+_denouement_; a marriage a happy ending. Had she known the exact
+circumstances in which Edith went to see the wounded hero, Madame
+Frabelle's dramatic remarks, the obvious observations which she would
+have showered on her friend, would have been quite unendurable.
+Therefore Edith chose to say merely that she was going to see an old
+friend, so as not to excite her friend's irritable imagination by any
+hint of sentiment or romance on the subject.
+
+During her absence in the afternoon, it happened that Mrs Mitchell had
+called, with a lady whom she had known intimately since Tuesday, so she
+was quite an old friend. Madame Frabelle had received them together in
+Edith's place. On her return Madame Frabelle was full of the stranger.
+She had, it seemed been dressed in bright violet, and did nothing but
+laugh. Whether it was that everything amused her, or merely that
+laughter was the only mode she knew of expressing all her sentiments,
+impressions and feelings, Madame Frabelle was not quite sure. Her name
+was Miss Radford, and she was thirty-eight. She had very red cheeks, and
+curly black hair. She had screamed with laughter from disappointment at
+hearing Mrs Ottley was out; and shrieked at hearing that Madame Frabelle
+had been deputed to receive them in her place. Mrs Mitchell had
+whispered that she was a most interesting person, and Madame Frabelle
+thought she certainly was. It appeared that Mrs Mitchell had sent the
+motor somewhere during their visit, and by some mistake it was a long
+time coming back. This had caused peals of laughter from Miss Radford,
+and just as they had made up their minds to walk home the motor arrived,
+so she went away with Mrs Mitchell, giggling so much she could
+hardly stand.
+
+Miss Radford also had been highly amused by the charming way the boudoir
+was furnished, and had laughed most heartily at the curtains and the
+pictures. Edith was sorry to have missed her. She was evidently a
+valuable discovery, one of their new treasures, a rare _trouvaille_ of
+the Mitchells.
+
+Madame Frabelle then told Edith and Bruce that she had promised to dine
+with the Mitchells one day next week. Edith was pleased to find that
+Eglantine, and also Bruce, who had by now returned home, were so full of
+Mrs Mitchell's visit and invitation, that neither of them asked her a
+single question about Aylmer, and appeared to have completely forgotten
+all about him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Madame Frabelle left them for a moment, Edith observed a cloud of
+gloom over Bruce's expressive countenance. He said:
+
+'Well, really! Upon my word! This is a bit too much! Mind you, I'm not
+at all surprised. In fact, I always expected it. But it is a bit of a
+shock, isn't it, when you find old friends throwing you over like this?'
+
+He walked up and down, much agitated, repeating the same thing in
+different words: that he had never been so surprised in his life; that
+it was what he had always known would happen; that it was a great shock,
+and he had always expected it.
+
+At last Edith said: 'I don't see anything so strange about it, Bruce.
+It's natural enough they should have asked her.'
+
+'Oh, is it? How would they ever have known her but for us?'
+
+'How could they ask her without knowing her? Besides we went there last.
+We lunched with them only the other day.'
+
+'That's not the point. You have missed the point entirely.
+Unfortunately, you generally do. You have, in the most marked way, a
+woman's weakness, Edith. You're incapable of arguing logically. I
+consider it a downright slight; no, not so much a slight as an
+insult--perhaps injury is the _mot juste_--to take away our guest and
+not ask us. Not that I should have gone. I shouldn't have dreamed of
+going, in any case. For one thing we were there last; we lunched there
+only the other day. Besides, we're engaged to dine with my mother.'
+
+'Mrs Mitchell knew that; that's why she asked Madame Frabelle because
+she would be alone.'
+
+'Oh, how like you, Edith! Always miss the point--always stick up for
+everyone but me! You invariably take the other side. However, perhaps it
+is all for the best; it's just as well. Nothing would have induced me to
+have gone--even if I hadn't been engaged, I mean. I'm getting a bit
+tired of the Mitchells; sick of them. Their tone is frivolous. And if
+they'd pressed me ever so much, nothing in the world would have made me
+break my promise to my mother.'
+
+'Well, then, it's all right. Why complain?'
+
+Bruce continued, however, in deep depression till they received a
+message from the Mitchells, asking Edith if she and her husband couldn't
+manage to come, all the same, if they were not afraid of offending the
+elder Mrs Ottley. They could go to Bruce's mother at any time, and the
+Mitchells particularly wanted them to meet some people tomorrow night--a
+small party, unexpectedly got up.
+
+'Of course you won't go,' said Edith to Bruce from the telephone. 'You
+said you wouldn't under any circumstances. I'll refuse, shall I?'
+
+'No--no, don't! Certainly not! Of course I shall go. Accept immediately.
+They're quite right, it is perfectly true we can go to my mother any
+other day. Besides, I don't think it's quite fair to old friends like
+the Mitchells to throw them over when they particularly want us and ask
+us as a special favour to them, like this.'
+
+'You don't think, perhaps, that somebody else has disappointed them, and
+they asked us at the last minute, to fill up?' suggested Edith, to whom
+this was perfectly obvious.
+
+Bruce was furious at this suggestion.
+
+'Certainly not!' he exclaimed. 'The idea of such a thing. As if they
+would treat me like that! Decidedly we will go.'
+
+'All right,' she said, 'just as you wish. But your mother will be
+disappointed.'
+
+Bruce insisted. Of course the invitation was accepted, and once again he
+was happy!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And at last Edith was able to be alone, and to think over her meeting
+with Aylmer. A dramatic meeting under romantic circumstances between two
+people of the Anglo-Saxon race always appears to fall a little flat;
+words are difficult to find. When she went in, to find him looking thin
+and weak, pale under his sunburn, changed and worn, she was deeply
+thrilled and touched. It brought close to her the simple, heroic manner
+in which so many men are calmly risking their lives, taking it as a
+matter of course, and as she knew for a fact that he was forty-two and
+had gone into the New Army at the very beginning of the war, she was
+aware he must have strained a point in order to join. She admired
+him for it.
+
+He greeted her with that bright expression in his eyes and with the
+smile that she had always liked so much, which lighted up like a ray of
+sunshine the lean, brown, somewhat hard, face.
+
+She sat down by his side, and all she could think of to say was: 'Well,
+Aylmer?'
+
+He answered: 'Well, Edith! Here you are.'
+
+He took her hand, and she left it in his. Then they sat in silence,
+occasionally broken by an obvious remark.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When he had left three years ago both had parted in love, and Aylmer in
+anger. He had meant never to see her again, never to forgive her for her
+refusal to use Bruce's escapade as a means of freeing herself, to marry
+him. Yet now, when they met they spoke the merest commonplaces. And
+afterwards neither of them could ever remember what had passed between
+them during the visit. She knew it was short, and that it had left an
+impression that calmed her. Somehow she had thought of him so much that
+when she actually saw him again her affection seemed cooler. Had she
+worn out the passion by dint of constancy? That must be strange.
+Unaccountably, touched as she was at his wishing to see her just after
+he had nearly died, the feeling now seemed to be more like a warm
+friendship, and less like love.
+
+The little nurse had seen her out. Edith saw that she had been crying.
+Evidently she was quite devoted to Aylmer, and, poor girl, she probably
+regarded Edith as a rival. But Edith would not be one, of that she was
+determined. She wondered whether their meeting had had the same effect
+on Aylmer. She thought he had shown more emotion than she had.
+
+'He will be better now,' Dulcie Clay had said to her at the door.
+'Please come again, Mrs Ottley.'
+
+Edith thought that generous.
+
+It seemed to her that Dulcie was as frank and open as a child. Edith, at
+any rate, could read her like a book. It made her feel sorry for the
+girl. As Edith analysed her own feelings she wondered why she had felt
+no jealousy of her--only gratitude for her goodness to Aylmer.
+
+All her sensations were confused. Only one resolution was firm in her
+mind. Whether he wished it or not, they should never be on the terms
+they were before. It could only lead to the same ending--to unhappiness.
+No; after all these years of separation, Edith would be his friend, and
+only his friend. Of that she was resolved.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+'Lady Conroy,' said Bruce thoughtfully, at breakfast next day, 'is a
+very strict Roman Catholic.'
+
+Bruce was addicted to volunteering information, and making unanswerable
+remarks.
+
+Madame Frabelle said to Edith in a low, earnest tone:
+
+'Pass me the butter, dear,' and looked attentively at Bruce.
+
+'I sometimes think I shouldn't mind being one myself,' Bruce continued;
+'I should rather like to eat fish on Fridays.'
+
+'But you like eating fish on Thursdays,' said Edith.
+
+'And Mr Ottley never seems to care very much for meat.'
+
+'Unless it's particularly well cooked--in a particular way,' said Edith.
+
+'Fasts,' said Madame Frabelle rather pompously, 'are meant for people
+who like feasts.'
+
+'How true!' He gave her an admiring glance.
+
+'I should not mind confessing, either,' continued Bruce, 'I think I
+should rather like it.'
+
+(He thought he was having a religious discussion.)
+
+'But you always do confess,' said Edith, 'not to priests, perhaps, but
+to friends; to acquaintances, at clubs, to girls you take in to dinner.
+You don't call it confessing, you call it telling them a curious thing
+that you happen to remember.'
+
+'He calls it conversing,' said Madame Frabelle. She then gave a slight
+flippant giggle, afterwards correcting it by a thoughtful sigh.
+
+'The Rev. Byrne Fraser, of course, is very High Church,' Bruce said. 'I
+understood he was Anglican. By the way, was Aylmer Ross a Roman
+Catholic?'
+
+'I think he is.'
+
+Bruce having mentioned his name, Edith now told him the news about her
+visit to their friend. Bruce liked good news--more, perhaps, because it
+was news than because it was good--yet the incident seemed to put him in
+a rather bad temper. He was sorry for Aylmer's illness, glad he was
+better, proud of knowing him, or, indeed, of knowing anyone who had been
+publicly mentioned; and jealous of the admiration visible in both Edith
+and Madame Frabelle. This medley of feeling resulted in his taking up a
+book and saying:
+
+'Good heavens! Again I've found you've dog's-eared my book, Edith!'
+
+'I only turned down a page,' she said gently.
+
+'No, you haven't; you've dog's-eared it. It's frightfully irritating,
+dear, how you take no notice of my rebukes or my comments. Upon my word,
+what I say to you seems to go in at one ear and out at the other, just
+like water on a duck's back.'
+
+'How does the water on a duck's back get into the dog's ears?--I mean
+the duck's ears. Oh, I'm sorry. I won't do it again.'
+
+Bruce sighed, flattened out the folded page and left the room with quiet
+dignity, but caught his foot in the mat. Both ladies ignored
+the accident.
+
+When he had gone, Madame Frabelle said:
+
+'Poor Edith!'
+
+'Bruce is only a little tidy,' said Edith.
+
+'I know. My husband was dreadfully untidy, which is much worse.'
+
+'I suppose they have their faults.'
+
+'Oh, men are all alike!' exclaimed Madame Frabelle cynically.
+
+'Only some men,' said Edith. 'Besides, to a woman--I mean, a nice
+woman--there is no such thing as men. There is a man; and either she is
+so fond of him that she can talk of nothing else, however unfavourably,
+or so much in love with him that she never mentions his name.'
+
+'Men often say women are all alike,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'When a man says that, he means there is only one woman in the world,
+and he's in love with her, and she is not in love with him.'
+
+'Men are not so faithful as women,' remarked Madame Frabelle, with the
+air of a discovery.
+
+'Perhaps not. And yet--well, I think the difference is that a man is
+often more in love with the woman he is unfaithful to than with the
+woman he is unfaithful with. With us it is different.... Madame
+Frabelle, I think I'll take Archie with me today to see Aylmer Ross.
+Tell Bruce so, casually; and will you come with me another day?'
+
+'With the greatest pleasure,' said Madame Frabelle darkly, and with an
+expressive look. (Neither she nor Edith had any idea what it expressed.)
+
+Edith found Aylmer wonderfully better. The pretty little nurse with the
+dark face and pale blue eyes told her he had had a peaceful night and
+had bucked up tremendously. He was seated in an arm-chair with one leg
+on another chair, and with him was Arthur Coniston, a great admirer
+of his.
+
+It was characteristic of Aylmer, the moment he was able, to see as many
+friends as he was allowed. Aylmer was a very gregarious person,
+though--or perhaps because--he detested parties. He liked company, but
+hated society. Arthur Coniston, who always did his best to attract
+attention by his modest, self-effacing manner, was sitting with his
+handsome young head quite on one side from intense respect for his host,
+whom he regarded with the greatest admiration as a man of culture, and a
+judge of art. He rejoiced to be one of the first to see him, just
+returned after three years' absence from England, and having spent the
+last three months at the front.
+
+Arthur Coniston (also in khaki), who was a born interviewer, was anxious
+to know Aylmer's impression of certain things over here, after his
+long absence.
+
+'I should so very much like to know,' he said, 'what your view is of the
+attitude to life of the Post-Impressionists.'
+
+Aylmer smiled. He said: 'I think their attitude to life, as you call it,
+is best expressed in some of Lear's Nonsense Rhymes: "_His Aunt Jobiska
+said, 'Everyone knows that a pobble is better without his toes_.'"'
+
+Archie looked up in smiling recognition of these lines, and Edith
+laughed.
+
+'Excuse me, but I don't quite follow you,' said young Coniston gravely.
+
+'Why, don't you see? Of course, Lear is the spirit they express. A
+portrait by a post-Impressionist is sure to be "A Dong with a luminous
+nose." And don't you remember, "_The owl and the pussycat went to sea in
+a beautiful pea-green boat_"? Wouldn't a boat painted by a
+Post-Impressionist be pea-green?'
+
+'Perfectly. I see that. But--why the pobble without its toes?'
+
+'Why, the sculptor always surrenders colour, and the painted form. Each
+has to give up something for the limitation of art. But the more modern
+artist gives up much more--likeness, beauty, a few features here and
+there--a limb now and then.'
+
+'Ah yes. I quite see what you mean. Like the statuary of Rodin or
+Epstein. One sees really only half the form, as if growing out of the
+sketchy sculpture. And then there's another thing--I hope I'm not
+wearying you?'
+
+'No, indeed. It's great fun: such a change to hear about this sort of
+thing again.'
+
+'The Futurists?' asked Arthur. 'What is your view of them?'
+
+'Well, of course, they are already past, They always were. But I should
+say their attitude to life is that of the man who is looking at the moon
+reflected in a lake, but can't see it; he sees the reflection of a
+coal-scuttle instead.'
+
+'Ah yes. They see things wrong, you mean. They're not so real, not so
+logical, as the Post-Impressionists.'
+
+'Yes, the Futurist is off the rails entirely, and he seems to see hardly
+anything but railways. But all that noisy nonsense of the Futurists
+always bored me frightfully,' Aylmer said. 'Affectation for affectation,
+I prefer the pose of depression and pessimism to that of bullying and
+high spirits. When the affected young poet pretended to be used up and
+worn out, one knew there was vitality under it all. But when I see a
+cheerful young man shrieking about how full of life he is, banging on a
+drum, and blowing on a tin trumpet, and speaking of his good spirits, it
+depresses me, since naturally it gives the contrary impression. It can't
+be real. It ought to be but it isn't. If the noisy person meant what he
+said, he wouldn't say it.'
+
+'I see. The modern _poseurs_ aren't so good as the old ones. Odle is not
+so clever as Beardsley.'
+
+'Of course not. Beardsley had the gift of line--though he didn't always
+know where to draw it--but his illustrations to Wilde's work were
+unsuitable, because Beardsley wanted everything down in black and white,
+and Wilde wanted everything in purple and gold. But both had their
+restraints, and their pose was reserve, not flamboyance.'
+
+'I think you mean that if people are so sickening as to have an
+affectation at all, you would rather they kept it quiet,' said Edith.
+
+'Exactly! At least, it brings a smile to one's lips to see a very young
+man pretend he is bored with life. I have often wondered what the answer
+would be from one of these chaps, and what he would actually say, if you
+held a loaded pistol to his head--I mean the man who says he doesn't
+think life worth living.'
+
+'What do you think he would say?' asked Coniston.
+
+'He would scream: "Good heavens! What are you doing? Put that down!"'
+said Edith.
+
+'She's right,' said Aylmer. 'She always is.'
+
+Dulcie came in and brought tea.
+
+'I hope we're not tiring him,' Edith asked her.
+
+'Oh no. I think it does him good. He enjoys it.'
+
+She sat down with Archie and talked to him gently in the corner.
+
+'After living so much among real things,' Coniston was saying, 'one
+feels half ashamed to discuss our old subjects.'
+
+However, he and Aylmer continued to talk over books and pictures,
+Coniston hanging on his lips as though afraid of missing or forgetting a
+word he said.
+
+Presently Edith told Aylmer about their new friend, Madame Frabelle. He
+was very curious to see her.
+
+'What is she like?' he asked. 'I can't imagine her living with you. Is
+she a skeleton at the feast?'
+
+'A skeleton!' exclaimed Coniston. 'Good heavens--no! Quite the
+contrary.'
+
+'A skeleton who was always feasting would hardly remain one long,'
+suggested Edith.
+
+'Anyhow,' said Aylmer, 'the cupboard is the proper place for a
+skeleton.'
+
+Archie had joined the group round Aylmer. Edith sat in a corner for some
+time, chatting with Dulcie. They arranged that Bruce was to call the
+next day, and Edith and Madame Frabelle the day after.
+
+When they went away Archie, who had listened very closely to the
+conversation, said:
+
+'What a lot of manners Mr Coniston has! What did he mean by saying that
+Spanish painters painted a man in a gramophone?'
+
+Edith racked her brain to remember the sentence. Then she said, with a
+laugh:
+
+'Oh yes, I know! Mr Coniston said: "The Spanish artists painted--to a
+man--in monochrome." I can't explain it, Archie. It doesn't matter. Why
+did you leave Miss Clay and come back to us?'
+
+'Why, I like her all right, but you get tired of talking to women. I get
+bored with Dilly sometimes.'
+
+'Then you're looking forward to going back to school?'
+
+'I shall like the society of boys of my own sex again,' he said grandly.
+
+'You're not always very nice to Dilly, Archie. I've noticed when
+anything is given to her, you always snatch at it. You must remember
+Ladies first.'
+
+'Yes, that's all very well. But then Dilly takes it all, and only gives
+me what's left.'
+
+Archie looked solemn.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+'Edith,' said Bruce, next morning, with some importance of manner, 'I've
+had a letter from Aylmer--Aylmer Ross, you know--asking me, _most_
+particularly, to call on him.'
+
+'Oh, really,' said Edith, who knew it already, as she had asked him to
+write to Bruce.
+
+'He wants me to come at half-past four,' said Bruce, looking over the
+letter pompously. 'Four-thirty, to the minute. I shall certainly do it.
+I shan't lose a minute.'
+
+'I'm afraid you'll have to lose a few minutes,' said Edith. 'It's only
+ten o'clock.'
+
+Bruce stared at her, folded up the letter, and put it in his pocket. He
+thought it would be a suitable punishment for her not to see it.
+
+Obviously he was not in the best of humours. Not being sure what was
+wrong, Edith adopted the simple plan of asking what he meant.
+
+'What do I mean!' exclaimed Bruce, who, when his grievances, were vague,
+relied on such echoes for his most cutting effects. 'You ask me what I
+mean? Mean, indeed!' He took some toast and repeated bitterly: 'Ah! You
+may well ask me what I mean!'
+
+'May I? Well, what were the observations you didn't approve of?'
+
+'Why ... what you said. About several minutes being lost before
+half-past four.'
+
+'Oh, Bruce dear, I didn't mean any harm by it.'
+
+'Harm, indeed!' repeated Bruce. 'Harm! It isn't a question of actual
+harm. I don't say that you meant to injure me, nor even, perhaps, to
+hurt my feelings. But it's a way of speaking--a tone--that I think
+extremely _deplace_, from you to me. Do you follow me, Edith? From
+_you_ to _me_.'
+
+'That's a dark saying. Well, whatever I said I take it back, if you
+don't like it. Will that do?'
+
+Bruce was mollified, but wouldn't show it at once.
+
+'Ah,' he said, 'that's all very well. These sort of things are not so
+easily taken back. You should think before you speak. Prevention is
+better than cure.'
+
+'Yes, and a stitch in time saves nine--though it doesn't rhyme. And it's
+no good crying over spilt milk, and two heads are better than one. But,
+really, Bruce, I didn't mean it.'
+
+'What didn't you mean?'
+
+'Good heavens, I really don't know by now! I'm afraid I've utterly
+forgotten what we were talking about,' said Edith, looking at the door
+with some anxiety.
+
+She was hoping that Madame Frabelle would soon come down and cause a
+diversion.
+
+'Look here, Edith,' said Bruce, 'when an old friend, an old friend of
+yours and mine, and at one time a very intimate friend--next door to a
+brother--when such a friend as that has been wounded at the front,
+fighting for our country--and, mind you, he behaved with remarkable
+gallantry, for it wasn't really necessary for him to go, as he was
+beyond the age--well, when a friend does a thing like that, and comes
+back wounded, and writes, with his own hand, asking me to go and see
+him--well, I think it's the least I can do! I don't know what _you_
+think. It seems to _me_ the right thing. If you disagree with me I'm
+very sorry. But, frankly, it appears to me that I ought to go.'
+
+'Who could doubt it?'
+
+'Read the letter for yourself,' said Bruce, suddenly taking it out of
+his pocket and giving it to her. 'There, you see. "Dear Ottley,"
+he says.'
+
+Here Bruce went to her side of the table and leant over her, reading the
+letter aloud to her over her shoulder, while she was reading it
+to herself.
+
+'"DEAR OTTLEY,--If you could look in tomorrow about half-past four, I
+should be very glad to see you. Yours sincerely, AYLMER ROSS." Fairly
+cordial, I think, isn't it? Or not? Perhaps you think it cold. Would you
+call it a formal letter?'
+
+Bruce took the letter out of her hand and read it over again to himself.
+
+'Very nice, dear,' said Edith.
+
+'So I thought.' He put it away with a triumphant air.
+
+Edith was thinking that the writing was growing stronger. Aylmer must be
+better.
+
+'I say, I hope it isn't a sign he's not so well, that he wants to see
+me. I don't call it a good sign. He's depressed. He thinks I'll
+cheer him up.'
+
+'And I'm sure you will. Ah, here's Madame Frabelle.'
+
+'I'm afraid I'm a little late,' said their guest, with her amiable
+smile.
+
+'Oh dear, no--not at all, not at all,' said Bruce, who was really much
+annoyed at her unpunctuality. 'Of course, if you'd been a minute later I
+shouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing you at all before I went to
+the office--that's all. And what does that matter? Good heavens,
+_that's_ of no importance! Good gracious, this is Liberty Hall, I
+hope--isn't it? I should be very sorry for my guests to feel tied in any
+way--bound to be down at any particular time. Will you have some coffee?
+Edith, give Madame Frabelle a cup of coffee. Late? Oh dear, no;
+certainly not!' He gave a short, ironical laugh.
+
+'Well, I think I'm generally fairly punctual,' said Madame Frabelle,
+beginning her breakfast without appearing to feel this sarcasm. 'What
+made me late this morning was that Archie and Dilly came into my room
+and asked me to settle a kind of dispute they were having.'
+
+'They regard you quite as a magistrate,' said Edith. 'But it was too bad
+of them to come and bother you so early.'
+
+'Oh no. Not at all. I assure you I enjoy it. And, besides, a boy with
+Archie's musical talents is bound to have the artistic temperament, you
+know, and--well--of course, we all know what that leads to--excitement;
+and finally a quarrel sometimes.'
+
+'If he were really musical I should have thought he ought to be more
+harmonious,' Edith said.
+
+'Oh, by the way, Edith, did you consult Landi about him?' Bruce
+inquired. 'You said you intended to.'
+
+'Oh yes, I did. Landi can see no sign of musical genius yet.'
+
+'Dear, dear!' said Bruce.
+
+'Ah, but I am convinced he's wrong. Wait a few years and you'll find
+he'll agree with me yet,' said Madame Frabelle. 'I'm not at all sure,
+either, that a composer like Landi is necessarily the right person to
+judge of youthful genius.'
+
+'Perhaps not. And yet you'd think he'd know a bit about it, too! I mean
+to say, they wouldn't have made him a baronet if he didn't understand
+his profession. Excuse my saying so, won't you?'
+
+'Not at all,' she answered. 'It doesn't follow. I mean it doesn't follow
+that he's right about Archie. Did he try the boy's voice?' she
+asked Edith.
+
+'Very much.'
+
+'How?'
+
+'Well, he asked Archie to sing a few notes.'
+
+'And did he?'
+
+'Yes, he did. But they weren't the notes Landi asked him to sing.'
+
+'Oh!'
+
+'Then Landi played him two tunes, and found he didn't know one from the
+other.'
+
+'Well, what of that?'
+
+'Nothing at all. Except that it showed he had no ear, as well as no
+voice. That is all.'
+
+Madame Frabelle would never own she was beaten.
+
+'Ah, well, well,' she said, shaking her head in an oracular way. 'You
+wait!'
+
+'Certainly. I shall.'
+
+'By the way, I may be a little late for dinner tonight. I'm going to see
+an old friend who's been wounded in the war,' Bruce told Madame
+Frabelle proudly.
+
+It had always been something of an ordeal to Edith when she knew that
+Aylmer and Bruce were alone together. It was a curious feeling, combined
+of loyalty to Bruce (she hated him to make himself ridiculous), loyalty
+to Aylmer, and an indescribable sense of being lowered in her own eyes.
+When they seemed friendly together it pained her self-respect. Most
+women will understand the sensation. However, she knew it had to be, and
+would be glad when it was over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The next evening Bruce came in, holding himself very straight, with a
+slightly military manner. When he saw his wife he just stopped himself
+from saluting.
+
+'That's a man!' he exclaimed. 'That's a splendid fellow.'
+
+Edith didn't answer.
+
+'You don't appreciate him. In my opinion Aylmer Ross is a hero.'
+
+'I hope he's better?'
+
+'Better! He would say so, anyhow. Ah, he's a wonderful chap!' Bruce
+hummed Tipperary below his breath.
+
+Edith was surprised to find herself suffering no less mental discomfort
+and irritation while Bruce talked about Aylmer and praised him than she
+used to feel years ago. It seemed as if three years had passed and
+altered nothing. She answered coldly. Bruce became more enthusiastic. He
+declared that she didn't know how to value such a fine character.
+'Women,' he repeated, 'don't know a hero when they see one.'
+
+Evidently if Bruce had had his way Aylmer would have been covered with
+DSO's and VC's; nothing was good enough for him.
+
+On the other hand, if Edith had praised Aylmer, Bruce would have been
+the first to _debiner_ his actions, undervalue his gifts, and crab him
+generally.
+
+Edith was not one of those women, far more common than is supposed, who
+consider themselves aggrieved and injured when a discarded lover
+consoles himself with someone else. Nor was she one of the numerous
+people who will not throw away what they no longer want for fear someone
+else will pick it up. She had such a strong sympathy for Dulcie Clay
+that she had said to herself several times she would like to see her
+perfectly happy. Edith was convinced that the nurse adored her patient,
+but she was not at all sure that he returned the admiration. Edith
+herself had only seen him alone once, and on that occasion they had said
+hardly anything to each other. He had been constrained and she had been
+embarrassed. The day that Arthur Coniston was there and they talked of
+pictures, Aylmer had given her, by a look, to understand that he would
+like to see her again alone, and she knew perfectly well, even without
+that, that he was longing for another _tete-a-tete_.
+
+However, the next day Edith went with Madame Frabelle.
+
+This was a strangely unsatisfactory visit. Edith knew his looks and
+every tone of his voice so well that she could see that Aylmer, unlike
+everybody else, was not in the least charmed with Madame Frabelle. She
+bored him; he saw nothing in her.
+
+Madame Frabelle was still more disappointed. She had been told he was
+brilliant; he said nothing put commonplaces. He was supposed to be
+witty; he answered everything she said literally. He was said to be a
+man of encyclopaedic information; but when Madame Frabelle questioned him
+on such subjects his answers were dry and short; and when she tried to
+draw him out about the war, he changed the subject in a manner that was
+not very far from being positively rude.
+
+Leaving them for a moment, Edith went to talk to Dulcie.
+
+'How do you think he's getting on?' she said.
+
+'He's getting well; gradually. He seems a little nervous the last day or
+so.'
+
+'Do you think he's been seeing too many people?'
+
+'He hasn't seen more than the doctor has allowed. But, do you know, Mrs.
+Ottley, I think it depends a great deal who the people are.'
+
+She waited a moment and then went on in a low voice:
+
+'You do him more good than anyone. You see, he's known you so long,' she
+added gently, 'and so intimately. It's no strain--I mean he hasn't got
+to make conversation.'
+
+'Yes, I see,' said Edith.
+
+'Mr. Ross hasn't any near relations--no mother or sister. You seem to
+take their place--if you understand what I mean.'
+
+Edith thought it charmingly tactful of her to put it like that.
+
+'I'm sure _you_ take their place,' Edith said.
+
+Dulcie looked down.
+
+'Oh, of course, he hasn't to make any effort with me. But then _I_ don't
+amuse him, and he wants amusement, and change. It's a great bore for a
+man like that--so active mentally, and in every way--to have to lie
+perfectly still, especially when he has no companion but me. I'm rather
+dull in some ways. Besides, I don't know anything about the subjects
+he's interested in.'
+
+'Don't talk nonsense,' said Edith, smiling. 'I should imagine that just
+to look at you would be sufficient.'
+
+'Oh, Mrs. Ottley! How can you?'
+
+She turned away as if rather pained than pleased at the compliment.
+
+'I haven't very high spirits,' she said. 'I'm not sure that I don't
+sometimes depress him.'
+
+'On the contrary; I'm sure he wouldn't like a breezy, restless person
+bouncing about the room and roaring with laughter,' Edith said.
+
+She smiled. 'Perhaps not. But there might be something between. He will
+be able to go for a drive in a week or two. I wondered whether, perhaps,
+you could take him out?'
+
+'Oh yes; I dare say that could be arranged.'
+
+'I have to go out all tomorrow afternoon. I wondered whether you would
+come and sit with him, Mrs. Ottley?'
+
+'Certainly I will, if you like.'
+
+'Oh, please do! I know he's worrying much more about his son than
+anybody thinks. You see, the boy's really very young, and I'm not sure
+he's strong.'
+
+'I suppose neither of them told the truth about their age,' said Edith.
+'It reminds one of the joke in _Punch_: "Where do you expect to go if
+you tell lies? To the front."'
+
+Miss Clay gave a little laugh. Then she started. A bell was heard
+ringing rather loudly.
+
+'I'll tell him you're coming tomorrow, then,' she said.
+
+They returned to Aylmer's room.
+
+He was looking a little sulky. He said as Edith came in:
+
+'I thought you'd gone without saying good-bye. What on earth were you
+doing?'
+
+'Only talking to Miss Clay,' said Edith, sitting down by him. 'How sweet
+she is.'
+
+'Charming,' said Madame Frabelle. 'Wonderfully pretty, too.'
+
+'She's a good nurse,' said Aylmer briefly. 'She's been awfully good to
+me. But I do hope I shan't need her much longer.' He spoke with
+unnecessary fervour.
+
+'Oh, Mr Ross!' exclaimed Madame Frabelle. 'I'm sure if I were a young
+man I should be very sorry when she had to leave me!'
+
+'Possibly. However, you're not a young man. Neither am I.'
+
+There was a moment's silence. This was really an exceptional thing when
+Madame Frabelle was present. Edith could not recall one occasion when
+Eglantine had had nothing to say. Aylmer must have been excessively
+snubbing. Extraordinary I Wonder of wonders! He had actually silenced
+Madame Frabelle!
+
+All Aylmer's natural politeness and amiability returned when they rose
+to take their leave. He suddenly became cordial, cheery and charming.
+Evidently he was so delighted the visitor was going that it quite raised
+his spirits. When they left he gave Edith a little reproachful look. He
+did not ask her to come again. He was afraid she would bring
+Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Well, Edith, I thoroughly understand your husband's hero-worship for
+that man,' said Madame Frabelle (meaning she thoroughly misunderstood
+it). 'I've been studying his character all this afternoon.'
+
+'Do tell me what you think of him!'
+
+'Edith, I'm sorry to say it, but it's a hard, cold, cruel nature.'
+
+'Is it really?'
+
+'Mr Aylmer Ross doesn't know what it is to feel emotion, sentiment, or
+tenderness. Principle he has, perhaps, and no doubt he thinks he has
+great self-control, but that's only because he's absolutely incapable of
+passion of any kind.'
+
+Edith smiled.
+
+'I see you're amused at my being right again. It is an odd thing about
+me, I must own. I never make a mistake,' said Madame Frabelle
+complacently.
+
+As they walked home, she continued to discourse eloquently on the
+subject of Aylmer. She explained him almost entirely away.
+
+There was nothing Madame Frabelle fancied herself more on than
+physiognomy. She pointed out to Edith how the brow showed a narrow mind,
+the mouth bitterness. (How extraordinarily bored Aylmer must have been
+to give that impression of all others, thought her listener.) And the
+eyes, particularly, gave away his chief characteristic, the thing that
+one missed most in his personality.
+
+'And what is that?'
+
+'Can't you see?'
+
+'No, I don't think I can.'
+
+'He has no sense of humour!' said Madame Frabelle triumphantly.
+
+After a few moment's pause, Edith said:
+
+'What do you think of Miss Clay?'
+
+'She's very pretty--extremely pretty. But I don't quite like to say what
+I think of her. I'd rather not. Don't ask me. It doesn't concern me.'
+
+'As bad as that? Oh, do tell me. You're so interesting about character,
+Eglantine.'
+
+'Dear Edith, how kind of you. Well, she's very, very clever, of course.
+Most intellectual. A remarkable brain, I should say. But she's deep and
+scheming; it's a sly, treacherous face.'
+
+'Really, I can't see that.'
+
+Madame Frabelle put her hand on Edith's shoulder. They had just reached
+the house.
+
+'Ah, you don't know so much of life as I do, my dear.'
+
+'I should have said she is certainly not at all above the average in
+cleverness, and I think her particularly simple and frank.'
+
+'Ah, but that's all put on. You'll see I'm right some day. However, it
+doesn't matter. No doubt she's a very good nurse.'
+
+'Don't abuse her to Bruce,' said Edith, as they went in.
+
+'Certainly not. But why do you mind?'
+
+'I don't know; I suppose I like her.'
+
+Madame Frabelle laughed. 'How strange you are!'
+
+She lowered her voice as they walked upstairs, and said:
+
+'To tell the real truth, she gave me a shiver down the spine. I believe
+that girl capable of anything. That dark skin with those pale blue eyes!
+I strongly suspect she has a touch of the tarbrush.'
+
+'My dear! Nonsense. You can't have looked at her fine little features
+and her white hands.'
+
+'Why is she so dark?'
+
+'There may have been Italian or Spanish blood in her family,' said
+Edith, laughing. 'It's not a symptom of crime.'
+
+'There may, indeed,' replied Madame Frabelle in a tone of deep meaning,
+as they reached the door of her room. 'But, mark my words, Edith, that's
+a dangerous woman!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An event had occurred in the Ottley household during their absence.
+Archie had brought home a dog and implored his mother to let him
+keep it.
+
+'What sort of dog is it?' asked Edith.
+
+'Come and look at it. It isn't any particular _sort_. It's just a dog.'
+
+'But, my dear boy, you're going to school the day after tomorrow, and
+you can't take it with you.'
+
+'I know; but I'll teach Dilly to look after it.'
+
+It was a queer, rough, untidy-looking creature; it seemed harmless
+enough; a sort of Dobbin in _Vanity Fair_ in the canine world.
+
+'It's an inconsistent dog. Its face is like a terrier's, and its tail
+like a sort of spaniel,' said Archie. 'But I think it might be trained
+to a bloodhound.'
+
+'You do, do you? What use would a bloodhound be to Dilly?'
+
+'Well, you never know. It might be very useful.'
+
+'I'm afraid there's not room in the house for it.'
+
+'Oh, Mother!' both the children cried together. 'We _must_ keep it!'
+
+'Was it lost?' she asked.
+
+Archie frowned at Dilly, who was beginning to say, 'Not exactly.'
+
+'Tell me how you got it.'
+
+'It was just walking along, and I took its chain. The chain was dragging
+on the ground.'
+
+'You stole it,' said Dilly.
+
+Archie flew at her, but Edith kept him back.
+
+'Stole it! I didn't! Its master had walked on and evidently didn't care
+a bit about it, poor thing. That's not stealing.'
+
+'If Master Archie wants to keep a lot of dogs, he had better take them
+with him to school,' said the nurse. 'I don't want nothing to do with no
+dogs, not in this nursery.'
+
+'There's only one thing to be done, Archie; you must take care of it for
+the next day or two, and I shall advertise in the paper for its master.'
+
+'Oh, mother!'
+
+'Don't you see it isn't even honest to keep it?'
+
+Archie was bitterly disappointed, but consoled at the idea of seeing the
+advertisement in the paper.
+
+'How can we advertise it? We don't know what name it answers to.'
+
+'It would certainly be difficult to describe,' said Edith.
+
+They had tried every name they had ever heard of, and Dilly declared it
+had answered to them all, if answering meant jumping rather wildly round
+them and barking as if in the very highest spirits, it certainly had.
+
+'It'll be fun to see my name in the paper,' said Archie thoughtfully.
+
+'Indeed you won't see your name in the paper.'
+
+'Well, I found it,' said Archie rather sulkily.
+
+'Yes; but you had no right to find it, and still less to bring it home.
+I don't know what your father will say.'
+
+Bruce at once said that it must be taken to Scotland Yard. Dilly cried
+bitterly, and said she wanted it to eat out of her hand, and save her
+life in a snowstorm.
+
+'It's not a St Bernard, you utter little fool,' said her brother.
+
+'Well, it might save me from drowning,' said Dilly.
+
+She had once seen a picture, which she longed to realise, of a dog
+swimming, holding a child in its mouth. She thought it ought to be
+called Faithful or Rover.
+
+All these romantic visions had to be given up. Madame Frabelle said the
+only thing to do was to take it at once to the Battersea Dogs' Home,
+where it would be 'happy with companions of its own age'. Immediately
+after dinner her suggestion was carried out, to the great relief of most
+of the household. The nurse said when it had gone that she had 'known
+all along it was mad, but didn't like to say so.'
+
+'But it took such a fancy to me,' said Archie.
+
+'Perhaps that was why,' said Dilly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The children were separated by force.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+For a woman who was warm-hearted, sensitive and thoughtful, Edith had a
+singularly happy disposition. First, she was good-tempered; not touchy,
+not easily offended about trifles. Such vanity as she had was not in an
+uneasy condition; she cared very little for general admiration, and had
+no feeling for competition. She was without ambition to be superior to
+others. Then, though she saw more deeply into things than the generality
+of women, she was not fond of dwelling on the sad side of life. Very
+small things pleased her, while trifles did not annoy her. Hers was not
+the placidity of the stupid, fat, contented person who never troubles
+about other people.
+
+She was rather of a philosophical turn, and her philosophy tended to
+seeing the brighter side. Where she was singularly fortunate was that
+though she felt pleasure deeply--a temperament that feels pain in
+proportion--her suffering, though acute, seldom lasted long. There was
+an elasticity in her disposition that made her rebound quickly from
+a blow.
+
+Her affections were intense, but she did not suffer the usual penalty of
+love--a continual dread of losing the loved object. If she adored her
+children and was thankful for their health and beauty, she was not
+exactly what is called an anxious mother. She thought much about them,
+and was very determined to have her own way in anything concerning them.
+That, indeed, was a subject on which she would give way to no-one. But
+as she had so far succeeded in directing them according to her own
+ideas, she was satisfied. And she was very hopeful. She could look
+forward to happiness, but troubles she dealt with as they arose.
+
+Certainly, after the first few months of their marriage, Bruce had
+turned out a disappointment. But now that she knew him, knew the worst
+of him, she did not think bad. He had an irritating personality. But
+most people had to live with someone who was a little irritating; and
+she was so accustomed to his various ways and weaknesses that she could
+deal with them unmoved, almost mechanically. She did not take him
+seriously. She would greatly have preferred, of course, that he should
+understand her, that she could look up to him and lean on him. But as
+this was not so, she made the best of it, and managed to be contented
+enough. Three years ago she had not even known she could be deeply
+in love.
+
+She had loved Aylmer Ross. But even at that time, when Bruce gave her
+the opportunity, by his wild escapade with Miss Argles, to free herself
+and marry Aylmer--her ideal of divine happiness at the time--somehow she
+could not do it. She had a curious sense of responsibility towards
+Bruce, which came in the way.
+
+Often since then she had had regrets; she had even felt it had been a
+mistake to throw away such a chance. But she reflected that she would
+have regrets anyhow. It would have worried her to know that Bruce needed
+her. For all that, she knew he did, if unconsciously. So she had made up
+her mind to content herself with a life which, though peaceful, was
+certainly, to her temperament, decidedly incomplete.
+
+Edith had other sources of happiness more acute than that of the
+average. She took an intense and keen enjoyment in life itself.
+Everything interested her, amused her. She was never bored. She so much
+enjoyed the mere spectacle of life that she never required to be the
+central figure. When she had to play the part of a mere spectator it
+didn't depress her; she could delight in society and in character as if
+at a theatre. On the other hand, as she had a good deal of initiative
+and a strong personality, she could also revel in action, in playing a
+principal part. Under a quiet manner her courage was daring and her
+spirit high. Unless someone or something was actively tormenting her, to
+an extent quite insupportable, she was contented, even gay.
+
+Her past romance with Aylmer had naturally opened to her a source of
+delight that she knew nothing of before.
+
+Since she had seen him again she scarcely knew how she felt about it.
+This day she was to see him again alone, because he wished it, and
+because Dulcie Clay had begged her to gratify the wish.
+
+Why was it, she asked herself, that the little nurse desired they should
+be alone together? It was perfectly clear, to a woman with Edith's
+penetration, that Dulcie was in love with Aylmer. Also, she was equally
+sure that the girl believed Aylmer to be devoted to her, Edith. Then it
+must be the purest unselfishness. Dulcie probably, she thought, loved
+him with a kind of hopeless worship. She had seen him ill and weak, she
+pitied him, she wanted him to be happy. In return for this generosity
+Edith felt a generous kindness for her, a sympathy that she would never
+have believed she could feel at seeing such a beautiful girl on those
+rather intimate terms with Aylmer.
+
+It must mean, simply, that Edith knew Aylmer cared for her still. A look
+was enough to convince her that at least he still took a great and deep
+interest in her. And she wanted to come to an understanding with him, or
+she could have avoided a _tete-a-tete_.
+
+During the three years he had been away the feeling had calmed down, but
+the ideal was still there, and the memory. Whenever Bruce was
+maddening--which was fairly often--when she heard music, when she saw
+beautiful scenery, when she was reading a romantic book, when any other
+man admired her, Aylmer was always in her thoughts.
+
+When Edith saw him again she was not sure that she had not worn out her
+passion by dwelling on it. But that might easily be caused by the mere
+_gene_ of the first two or three meetings. There is a shyness, a sort of
+coldness, in meeting again a person one has passionately loved. To see
+the dream in flesh and blood, the thought made concrete, once more
+brings poetry down to prose. Then the terms they met on now were
+changed. He was playing such a different part. Instead of the strong,
+determined man who had voluntarily left her, refusing to know her as a
+friend, and reproaching her bitterly for playing with him, as he called
+it, here was a broken invalid, a pathetic figure who appealed to
+entirely different sentiments. There is naturally something maternal in
+a woman's feeling to a sick man. There was also the halo that surrounds
+the wounded hero. He was not ill through weakness, but through strength
+and courage.
+
+She found herself thinking of him day and night, but it was in a
+different way. It might be because he had not yet referred to their past
+love affair.
+
+Edith dressed with unusual care to go and see him today. Even if a woman
+wishes to discourage or to break off all relations with a man, she
+doesn't, after all, wish to leave a disagreeable impression.
+
+Her prettiness and charm--of which she was modestly but confidently
+aware, by her experience of its effect--was a great satisfaction. It was
+remarkably noticeable today. In front of the glass Edith hesitated
+between her favourite plain sailor hat and a new black velvet toque,
+which shaded her eyes, contrasting with the fair hair of which very
+little showed, and giving her an aspect of dashing yet discreet
+coquetry. She looked younger in the other sailor hat (so she decided
+when she put it on again) and more as she used to look. Which was the
+more attractive? She decided on novelty, and went out, finally, in
+the toque.
+
+Of course only another woman could have appreciated the remarkable fact
+that she could wear at thirty-five such a small hat and yet look fresh.
+Certainly a brim was more flattering to most women of her age, but the
+contour of Edith's face was still as youthful as ever; she had one of
+those clearly shaped oval faces that are not disposed to growing thick
+and broad, or to haggardness. The oval might be a shade wider than it
+was three years ago; that was all the more becoming; did it not make the
+features look smaller?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As she went out she laughed at herself for giving so much thought to her
+appearance. It was as though she believed she was going to play an
+important part in the chief scene of a play.
+
+Once dressed, as usual she lost all self-consciousness, and thought of
+outside things.
+
+Miss Clay was out, as she had told Edith she would be, and the servant
+showed her in.
+
+She saw at once that Aylmer, also, had been looking forward to this
+moment with some excitement. He, too, had dressed with special care; and
+she knew, without being told, that orders had been given to receive no
+other visitors.
+
+He was sitting in an arm-chair, with the bandaged leg on the other
+chair, a small table by his side laid for tea. Even a kettle was boiling
+(no doubt to avoid interruption). It was his old brown library, where
+she had occasionally seen him with others in the old days. But this was
+literally the first time she had seen him in his own house alone.
+
+It was essentially a man's room. Comfortable, but not exactly luxurious;
+very little was sacrificed to decoration.
+
+There were a few very old dark pictures on the walls. The room was
+crammed with books in long, low bookcases. On the mantelpiece was a
+pewter vase of cerise-coloured carnations.
+
+An uncut _English Review_ was in his hand, but he threw it on the floor
+with a characteristic gesture as she came in.
+
+'You look very comfortable,' said Edith, as she took her seat in the
+arm-chair placed for her.
+
+He answered gravely, speaking in his direct, quick way, with his sincere
+manner:
+
+'It was very good of you to come.'
+
+'Shall I pour out your tea?'
+
+'Yes. Let's have tea and get it over.'
+
+She laughed, took off her gloves, and he watched her fingers as they
+occupied themselves with the china, as though he were impatient for the
+ceremony to be finished.
+
+While she poured it out and handed it to him he said not a word. She saw
+that he looked pale and seemed rather nervous. Each tried to put the
+other at ease, more by looks than words. Edith saw it would worry him to
+make conversation. They knew each other well enough to exchange ideas
+without words.
+
+He had something to say and she would not postpone it. That would
+irritate him.
+
+'There,' said Aylmer, giving a little push to the table. 'Do you want
+any more tea?'
+
+'No, thanks.'
+
+'Well--do you mind coming a little nearer?'
+
+She lifted the little table, put it farther behind his chair, placed the
+arm-chair closer to him by the fire, and sat down again. He looked at
+her for some time with a serious expression. Then he said, rather
+abruptly and unexpectedly:
+
+'What a jolly hat!'
+
+'Oh, I _am_ glad you like it!' exclaimed Edith. 'I was afraid you'd hate
+it.'
+
+For the first time they were talking in their old tone, she reflected.
+
+'No, I like it--I love it.' He lowered his voice to say this.
+
+'I'm glad,' she repeated.
+
+'And I love you,' said Aylmer as abruptly, and in a still lower voice.
+
+She didn't answer.
+
+'Look here, Edith. I want to ask you something.'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+He seemed to have some difficulty in speaking. He was agitated.
+
+'Have you forgotten me?'
+
+'You can see I haven't, or I wouldn't be here,' she answered.
+
+'Don't fence with me. I mean, really. Are you the same as when I went
+away?'
+
+'Aylmer, do you think we had better talk about it?'
+
+'We must. I must. I can't endure the torture of seeing you just like
+anybody else. You know I told you--' He stopped a moment.
+
+'You told me you'd never be a mere friend,' she said. 'But everything's
+so different now!'
+
+'It isn't different; that's where you're wrong. You're just the same,
+and so am I. Except that I care for you far more than I ever did.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer!'
+
+'When I thought I was dying I showed your little photograph to Miss
+Clay. I told her all about it. I suppose I was rather mad. It was just
+after an operation. It doesn't matter a bit; she wouldn't ever say
+a word.'
+
+'I'm sure she wouldn't.'
+
+'I had to confide in somebody,' he went on. 'I told her to send you back
+the photograph, and I told her that my greatest wish was to see
+you again.'
+
+'Well, my dear boy, we have met again! Do change your mind from what you
+said last! I mean when you went away.' She spoke in an imploring tone.
+
+'Do you wish to be friends, then?'
+
+She hesitated a moment, then said: 'Yes, I do.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+After a moment's pause he said: 'You say everything's changed. In a way
+it is. I look at things differently--I regard them differently. When
+you've been up against it, and seen life and death pretty close, you
+realise what utter rot it is to live so much for the world.'
+
+Edith stared. 'But ... doesn't it make you feel all the more the
+importance of principle--goodness and religion, and all that sort of
+thing? I expected it would, with you.'
+
+'Frankly, no; it doesn't. Now, let us look at the situation quietly.'
+
+After an agitated pause he went on:
+
+'As far as I make out, you're sacrificing yourself to Bruce. When he ran
+away with that girl, and begged you to divorce him, you could have done
+it. You cared for me. Everything would have been right, even before the
+world. No-one would have blamed you. Yet you wouldn't.'
+
+'But that _wasn't_ for the world, Aylmer; you don't understand. It was
+for myself. Something in me, which I can't help. I felt Bruce needed me
+and would go wrong without me--'
+
+'Why should you care? Did he consider you?'
+
+'That isn't the point, dear boy. I felt as if he was my son, so to
+speak--a sort of feeling of responsibility.'
+
+'Yes, quite. It was quixotic rubbish. That's my opinion. There!'
+
+Edith said nothing, remembering he was still ill.
+
+'Well,' he went on, 'now, he _hasn't_ run away from you. He's stayed
+with you for three years; utterly incapable of appreciating you, as I
+know he is, bothering you to death.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer!'
+
+'Don't I know him? You're wasting and frittering yourself away for
+nothing.'
+
+'The children--'
+
+'Don't you think I'd have looked after the children better than he?'
+
+'Yes, I do, Aylmer. But he _is_ their father. They may keep him
+straight.'
+
+'I consider you're utterly wasted,' he said. 'Well! He's stuck to you,
+apparently, for these last three years (as far as you know), and now I'm
+going to ask you something entirely different, for the last time. When I
+was dying, or thought I was, things showed themselves clearly enough, I
+can tell you. And I made up my mind if I lived to see you, to say this.
+Leave Bruce, with me!'
+
+She stared at him.
+
+'In six weeks, when he's tired of telling his friends at the club about
+it, he'll make up his mind, I suppose, if you insist, or even without,
+to divorce you. But do you suppose he'll keep the children? No, my dear
+of course he won't. You'll never have to leave them. I would never ask
+you that. Now listen!' He put his hand over hers, not caressingly, but
+to keep her quiet. 'He'll want to marry again, won't he?'
+
+'Very likely,' she answered.
+
+'Probably already he's in love with that woman What's-her-name--Madame
+Frabelle--who's staying with you.'
+
+Edith gave a little laugh.
+
+'Perhaps he's in love with her already,' continued Aylmer.
+
+'Quite impossible!' said Edith calmly.
+
+'She's a very good sort. She's not a fool, like the girl. She'd look
+after Bruce very well.'
+
+'So she would,' answered Edith.
+
+'Bruce will adore her, be under her thumb, and keep perfectly
+'straight', as you call it--as straight as he ever would. Won't he?'
+
+She was silent.
+
+'You'll get the children then, don't you see?'
+
+'Yes. With a bad reputation, with a cloud on my life, to bring up
+Dilly!'
+
+He sighed impatiently, and said: 'You see, you don't see things as they
+really are, even now. How could you ever possibly hurt Dilly? You're
+only thinking of what the world says, now.
+
+'Hear me out,' he went on. 'Is this the only country? After the war,
+won't everything be different? Thank goodness, I'm well provided for.
+You needn't take a farthing. Leave even your own income to Bruce if you
+like. You know I've five thousand a year now, Edith?'
+
+'I didn't know it. But that has nothing on earth to do with it,' she
+answered.
+
+'Bosh! It has a great deal to do with it. I can afford to bring your
+children up as well as Teddy, my boy. We can marry. And in a year or two
+no one would think any more about it.'
+
+'You bewilder me,' said Edith.
+
+'I want to. Think it over. Don't be weak. I'm sorry, dear, to ask you to
+take the blame on your side. It's unfair; but after all, perhaps, it's
+straighter than waiting for an opportunity (which you could easily get
+in time) of finding Bruce in the wrong.'
+
+Her face expressed intense determination and disagreement with his
+views.
+
+'Don't answer me,' he said, 'think--'
+
+'My dear boy, you must let me answer you. Will you listen to me?'
+
+'Go on, Edith. I'll always listen to you.'
+
+'You don't realise it, but you're not well,' she said.
+
+He gave an impatient gesture.
+
+'How like a woman! As soon as I talk sense you say I'm not well. A
+broken leg doesn't affect the brain, remember.'
+
+'No, Aylmer; I don't mean that. But you've been thinking this over till
+you've lost your bearings, your sense of proportion....'
+
+'Rot! I've just got it! That's what you mean. It comes to this, my dear
+girl'--he spoke gently. 'Of course, if you don't care for me, my
+suggestion would be perfectly mad. Perhaps you don't. Probably you
+regard our romance as a pretty little story to look back on.'
+
+'No, I don't, unless--'
+
+'I won't ask you straight out,' he said. 'I don't suppose you know
+yourself. But, if you care for me, as I do for you'--he spoke
+steadily--'you'll do as I ask.'
+
+'I might love you quite as much, and yet not do it.'
+
+'I know it's a big thing. It's a sacrifice, in a way. But don't you see,
+Edith, that if you still like me, your present life is a long, slow
+sacrifice to convention, or (as you say) to a morbid sense of
+responsibility?'
+
+She looked away with a startled expression.
+
+'Well, do you love me?' he said rather impatiently, but yet with his old
+charm of tenderness and sincerity. 'I have never changed. As you know,
+after the operation, when they thought I was practically done in--it may
+seem a bit mad, but I was really more sane than I have ever been--I told
+Dulcie Clay all about it.'
+
+She stopped him. 'I know you did, my dear, and I don't blame you a bit.
+She's absolutely loyal. But now, listen. Has nothing occurred to you
+about her?'
+
+'Nothing, except that I'm hoping to get rid of her as soon as possible.'
+
+'She's madly in love with you, Aylmer.'
+
+He looked contemptuous.
+
+'She's a dear girl,' said Edith. 'I feel quite fond of her.'
+
+'Really, I don't see how she comes in. You are perverse, Edith!'
+
+'I'm not perverse. I see things.'
+
+'She's never shown the slightest sign of it,' said Aylmer. 'I think it's
+your imagination. But even if it's not, it isn't my business,
+nor yours.'
+
+'I think it is, a little.'
+
+'If you talk like that, I'll send her away today.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer! how ungrateful of you to say such a thing! She's been an
+angel.'
+
+He spoke wearily. 'I don't want _angels_! I want _you_!' He suddenly
+leant forward and took her hands.
+
+She laughed nervously. 'What a compliment.'
+
+Then she disengaged herself and stood up.
+
+Aylmer sighed. 'Now you're going to say, Ought you to talk so much? What
+is your temperature? Oh, women _are_ irritating, even the nicest,
+confound them!'
+
+Edith was unable to help laughing.
+
+'I'm afraid I _was_ going to say something like that.'
+
+'Now, are you going to say you won't answer me for fear it will excite
+me?'
+
+'Don't talk nonsense,' said Edith. '_I_ take you seriously enough. Don't
+worry!'
+
+He looked delighted.
+
+'Thank heaven! Most women treat a wounded man as if he were a sick child
+or a lunatic. It's the greatest rot. I'm nearly well.'
+
+Edith looked round for his tonic, but stopped herself.
+
+'Are you going now?' he asked.
+
+'No, Aylmer. I thought of stopping a few minutes, if you don't mind.'
+
+'Shall we talk of something else,' said Aylmer satirically, 'to divert
+my thoughts? Hasn't it been lovely weather lately?'
+
+She smiled and sat down again.
+
+'Would you like to know how soon the war will be over?' he went on.
+'Oddly enough, I really don't know!'
+
+'Are you going back when you've recovered?' she asked abruptly.
+
+'Of course I'm going back; and I want to go back with your promise.'
+Then he looked a little conscience-stricken. 'Dear Edith, I don't want
+to rush you. Forgive me.'
+
+They both sat in dead silence for five minutes. He was looking at the
+black velvet toque on the fair hair, over the soft eyes. She was staring
+across at the cherry-coloured carnations in the pewter vase on the
+mantelpiece.
+
+As has been said, they often exchanged ideas without words.
+
+He remarked, as she glanced at a book: 'Yes, I have read _A Life of
+Slavery_. Have you? Do you think it good?'
+
+'Splendid,' Edith answered; 'it's a labour of hate.'
+
+He laughed.
+
+'Quite true. One can't call it a labour of love, though it was written
+to please the writer--not the public.'
+
+'I wonder you could read it,' said Edith, 'after what you've been
+through.'
+
+'It took my thoughts off life,' he said.
+
+'Why? Isn't it life?'
+
+'Of course it is. Literary life.'
+
+Edith looked at the clock.
+
+'When am I going to see you again?' he asked in a rather exhausted
+voice.
+
+'Whenever you like. What about taking you out for a drive next week?'
+
+'Right.'
+
+'I'll think over what you said,' said Edith casually as she stood up.
+
+'What a funny little speech. You're _impayable_! Oh, you are a jolly
+girl!'
+
+'"Jolly" girl,' repeated Edith, not apparently pleased. 'I'm
+thirty-five, with a boy at school and a growing girl of seven!'
+
+'You think too much of the almanac. I'm forty-one, with a son at the
+front.'
+
+'How on earth did you get your commissions?'
+
+'In the usual way. Teddy and I told lies. He said he was eighteen and I
+said I was thirty-nine.'
+
+'I see. Of course.'
+
+He rang the bell.
+
+'Will you write to me, dear Edith?'
+
+'No. I'll come and see you, Aylmer.'
+
+'Are you going to bring Archie, Bruce, or Madame Frabelle?'
+
+'Neither.'
+
+'Do leave Madame Frabelle at home.'
+
+'Though you don't like her, you might pronounce her name right! She's
+such a clever woman.'
+
+'She's an utter fool,' said Aylmer.
+
+'Same thing, very often,' said Edith. 'Don't worry. Good-bye.'
+
+She went away, leaving him perfectly happy and very hungry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hardly had she gone when Miss Clay came in and brought him some beef-tea
+on a tray.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+To Edith's joy, as they entered the Mitchell's huge, familiar
+drawing-room, the first person she saw was her beloved confidant, Sir
+Tito Landi. This was the friend of all others whom she most longed to
+see at this particular moment.
+
+The extraordinary confidence and friendship between the successful
+Italian composer and Edith Ottley needs, perhaps, a word of explanation.
+He was adored equally in the artistic and the social worlds, and was at
+once the most cynical of Don Juans and the most unworldly of Don
+Quixotes. He was a devoted and grateful friend, and a contemptuous but
+not unforgetful enemy.
+
+It was not since his celebrity that Edith had first met him; she had
+known him intimately all her life. From her earliest childhood she had,
+so to speak, been brought up on Landi; on Landi's music and Landi's
+views of life. He had been her mother's music teacher soon after he
+first made a name in London; and long before he was the star whose
+singing or accompanying was a rare favour, and whose presence gave a
+cachet to any entertainment.
+
+How many poor Italians--yes, and many people of other nationalities--had
+reason to bless his acquaintance! How kind, how warm-hearted, how
+foolishly extravagant on others was Landi! His brilliant cleverness,
+which made him received almost as an Englishman among English people,
+was not, however, the cleverness of the _arriviste_. Although he had
+succeeded, and success was his object, no one could be less
+self-interested, less pushing, less scheming. In many things he was a
+child. He would as soon dine at Pagani's with a poor sculptor, or a poor
+and plain woman who was struggling to give lessons in Italian, as with
+the most brilliant hostess in London. And he always found fashion and
+ceremony a bore. He was so great a favourite in England that he had been
+given that most English of titles, a knighthood, just as though he were
+very rich, or political, or a popular actor. In a childish way it amused
+him, and he was pleased with it. But though he was remarkable for his
+courtly tact, he loved most of all to be absolutely free and Bohemian,
+to be quite natural among really sympathetic, witty, or beautiful
+friends. He liked to say what he thought, to go where he wished, and to
+make love when he chose, not when other people chose. He had long been a
+man with an assured position, but he had changed little since he was
+twenty-one, and arrived from Naples with only his talent, his bright
+blue eyes, his fair complexion, his small, dignified figure and his
+daring humour. Yet the music he wrote indicated his sensitive and deeply
+feeling nature, and though his conversation could hardly be called other
+than cynical, nor his jokes puritanical, there was always in him a vein
+of genuine--not sentimental, but perhaps romantic--love and admiration
+for everything good; good in music, good in art, good in character. He
+laid down no rules of what was good. 'Tout savoir c'est tout pardonner'
+was perhaps his motto. But he was very unexpected; that was one of his
+charms. He would pass over the most extraordinary things--envious
+slights, small injuries, things another man would never forgive. On the
+other hand, he retained a bitter memory, not at all without its
+inclination for repayment, for other trifles that many would disregard.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ever since she was a child Edith had been his special favourite. He
+loved the privilege of calling her Edith, of listening to her
+confidences, of treating her with loving familiarity. It was a joke
+between them that, while he used formerly to say, 'Cette enfant! Je l'ai
+vue en jupe courte, vous savez!' he had gradually reached the point of
+declaring, 'Je l'ai vue naitre!' almost with tears in his eyes.
+
+This explains why Landi was the only creature to whom Edith could tell
+everything, and did. Must not all nice people have a confidant? And no
+girl or woman friend--much as they might like her, and she them--could
+ever take the place of Landi, the wise and ever-sympathetic.
+
+There was something in his mental attitude that was not unfeminine,
+direct and assertive as he was. He had what is generally known as
+feminine intuition, a quality perhaps even rarer in women than in men.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Tonight the persistently hospitable Mrs Mitchell had a large party.
+Dressed in grey, she was receiving her guests in the big room on the
+ground floor, and tactfully directing the conversation of a crowd of
+various and more or less interesting persons.
+
+It was one of those parties that had been described as a Russian Salad,
+where one ran an equal risk--or took an equal chance--of being taken to
+dinner by Charlie Chaplin or Winston Churchill, and where society and
+the stage were equally well represented. Young officers on leave and a
+few pretty girls filled the vacancies.
+
+As Bruce, Edith and Madame Frabelle came in together, Landi went
+straight to Edith's side.
+
+Looking at her through his eyeglass, he said, as if to himself, in an
+anxious tone:
+
+'Elle a quelquechose, cette enfant; oui, elle a quelquechose,' and as
+the last guest had not arrived he sat down thoughtfully by her on the
+small sofa.
+
+'Yes, Landi, there is something the matter. I'm longing to tell you
+about it. I want your advice,' said Edith, smiling.
+
+'Tout se sait; tout se fait; tout s'arrange,' sententiously remarked
+Landi, who was not above talking oracular commonplaces at times.
+
+'Oh, it isn't one of those things, Landi.'
+
+'Not? Are you sure? Don't be sad, Edith. Be cheerful. Tiens! Tiens!
+Tiens! How excited you are,' he went on, as she looked at him with
+perfect composure.
+
+'You will think I have reason to be excited when I tell you.'
+
+He smiled in an experienced way.
+
+'I'll sit next to you at dinner and you shall tell me everything. Tiens!
+La vieille qui voit double!' He bowed politely as Madame Frabelle
+came up.
+
+'Dear Sir Tito, _what_ a pleasure to see you again! Your lovely songs
+have been ringing in my ears ever since I heard them!'
+
+'Where did you hear them? On a piano-organ?' he asked.
+
+'You're too bad! Isn't he naughty? No, when you sang here last.'
+
+Mr Mitchell came up, and Madame Frabelle turned away.
+
+'Dieu merci! La pauvre! Elle me donne sur les nerfs ce soir,' said
+Landi. 'I shall sit next to you whether the cards are placed so or not,
+Edith, and you'll tell me everything between the soup and the ices.'
+
+'I will indeed.'
+
+'Madame Meetchel,' he said, looking round through his eyeglass, 'is sure
+to have given you a handsome young man, someone who ought to drive Bruce
+wild with jealousy, but doesn't, or ... or ...'
+
+'Or some fly-blown celebrity.'
+
+'Sans doute!'
+
+The door opened and the last guest appeared. It was young Coniston (in
+khaki), who was invariably asked when there was to be music. He was
+so useful.
+
+He approached Landi at once.
+
+'Ah, cher maitre, quel plaisir!' he said with his South Kensington
+accent and his Oxford manner. (He had been a Cambridge man.)
+
+'C'est vrai?' asked Landi, who had his own way of dismissing a person in
+a friendly way.
+
+Coniston began talking to him of a song. Landi waved him off and went up
+to Mrs Mitchell, said something which made her laugh and blush and try
+to hit him with her fan--the fan, the assault and the manner were all
+out of date, but Mrs Mitchell made no pretence at going with the
+times--and his object was gained.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Tito took Edith in to dinner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+As they found their places at the long table (Sir Tito had exchanged
+cards, as though he meant to fight a duel with Edith's destined partner)
+of course the two turned their backs to one another. On her other side
+was Mr Mitchell. When Madame Frabelle noticed this, she gave Edith an
+arch shake of the head, and made a curious warning movement with her
+hand. Edith smiled at her in astonishment. She had utterly forgotten her
+friend's fancy about the imaginary intrigue supposed to be going on
+between her and Mr Mitchell, and she wondered what the gesture meant.
+Sir Tito also saw it, and, turning round to Edith, said in a low voice:
+
+'Qu'est-ce-qu'elle a, la vieille?'
+
+'I really don't know. I never understand signs. I've forgotten the code,
+I suppose!'
+
+Mr Mitchell, after a word to the person he had taken down, gladly turned
+to Edith. He always complained that the host was obliged to sit between
+the oldest and the most boring guests. It was unusual for him to have so
+pretty a neighbour as Edith. But he was a collector: his joy was to see
+a heterogeneous mass of people, eating and laughing at his table. For
+his wife there were a few social people, for him the Bohemians, and
+always the younger guests.
+
+'Not bad--not bad, is it?' he said, looking critically round down the
+two sides of the table, while his kind pink face beamed with
+hospitable joy.
+
+'You've got a delightful party tonight.'
+
+'What I always say is,' said Mr Mitchell; 'let them enjoy themselves!
+Dash it, I hate etiquette.' He lowered his voice. 'Bruce is looking
+pretty blooming. Not so many illnesses lately has he?'
+
+'Not when he's at home,' said Edith.
+
+'Ah! At the F O the dear fellow does, I'm afraid, suffer a good deal from
+nerves,' said Mr Mitchell, especially towards the end of the day. About
+four o'clock, I mean, you know! You know old Bruce! Good sort he is. I
+see he hasn't got the woman I meant him to sit next to, somehow or
+other. I see he's next to Miss Coniston.'
+
+'Oh, he likes her.'
+
+'Good, good. Thought she was a bit too artistic, and high-browed, as the
+Americans say, for him. But now he's used to that sort of thing, isn't
+he? Madame Frabelle, eh? Wonderful woman. No soup, Edith: why not?'
+
+'It makes me silent,' said Edith; 'and I like to talk.'
+
+Mitchell laughed loudly. 'Ha ha! Champagne for Mrs Ottley. What are you
+about?' He looked up reprovingly at the servant. Mr Mitchell was the
+sort of man who never knows, after twenty years' intimate friendship,
+whether a person takes sugar or not.
+
+Edith allowed the man to fill her glass. She knew it depressed Mr
+Mitchell to see people drinking water. So she only did it
+surreptitiously, and as her glass was always full, because she never
+drank from it, Mr Mitchell was happy.
+
+A very loud feminine laugh was heard.
+
+'That's Miss Radford,' said Mr Mitchell. 'That's how she always goes on.
+She's always laughing. She was immensely charmed with you the day she
+called on you with my wife.'
+
+'Was she?' said Edith, who remembered she herself had been out on that
+occasion.
+
+'Tremendously. I can't remember what she said: I think it was how clever
+you were.'
+
+'She saw Madame Frabelle. I wasn't at home.'
+
+'Ha ha! Good, very good!' Mr Mitchell turned to his other neighbour.
+
+'Eh bien,' said Sir Tito, who was waiting his opportunity. 'Commence!'
+
+At once Edith began murmuring in a low voice her story of herself and
+Aylmer, and related today's conversation in Jermyn Street.
+
+Sir Tito nodded his head occasionally. When he listened most intently,
+he appeared to be looking round the table at other people. He lifted a
+glass of champagne and bowed over it to Mrs Mitchell; then he put his
+hand to his lips and blew a kiss.
+
+'Who's that for?' Edith asked, interrupting herself.
+
+'C'est pour la vieille.'
+
+'Madame Frabelle! Why do you kiss your hand to her?'
+
+'To keep her quiet. Look at her: she's so impressed, and thinks it so
+wicked, that she's blushing and uncomfortable. I've a splendid way,
+Edith (pardon), of silencing all these elderly ladies who make love to
+me. I don't say "Ferme!" I'm polite to them.'
+
+Edith laughed. Sir Tito was not offended.
+
+'Yes, you needn't laugh, my dear child. I'm not old enough yet pour les
+jeunes; at any rate, if I am they don't know it. I'm still pursued by
+the upper middle-age class, with gratitude for favours to come (as
+they think).'
+
+'Well, what's your plan?'
+
+He giggled.
+
+'I tell Madame Frabelle, Madame Meetchel, Lady Everard--first, that they
+have beautiful lips; then, that I can't look at them without longing to
+kiss them. Lady Everard, after I said that, kept her hand before her
+face the whole evening, so as not to distract me, and drive me mad.
+Consequently she couldn't talk.'
+
+'Do they really believe you?'
+
+'Evidemment!... I wonder,' he continued mischievously, as he refused
+wine, 'whether Madame Frabelle will confess to you tonight about my
+passion for her, or whether she will keep it to herself?'
+
+'I dare say she'll tell me. At least she'll ask me if I think so or
+not.'
+
+'Si elle te demande, tu diras que tu n'en sais rien! Well, I think....'
+
+'What?'
+
+'You must wait. Wait and see. Really, it's impossible, my dear child,
+for you to accept an invitation for an elopement as if it were a
+luncheon-party. Not only that, it's good for Aylmer to be kept in doubt.
+Excellent for his health.'
+
+'Really?'
+
+'When I say his health, I mean the health and strength of his love for
+you. You must vacillate, Edith. Souvent femme varie. You sit on the
+fence, n'est-ce-pas? Well, offer the fence to him. But, take it away
+before he sits down. Voila!'
+
+Edith laughed. 'But then this girl, Miss Clay, she's always there. And I
+like her.'
+
+'What is her nationality?'
+
+'How funny you should ask that! I think she must be of Spanish descent.
+She's so quiet, so religious, and has a very dark complexion. And yet
+wonderful light blue eyes.'
+
+'Quelle histoire! Qu'est-ce-que ca fait?'
+
+'The poor girl is mad about Aylmer. He doesn't seem to know it, but he
+makes her worse by his indifference,' Edith said.
+
+'Why aren't you jealous of her, ma chere? No, I won't ask you that--the
+answer is obvious.'
+
+'I mean this, that if I can't ever do what he wishes, I feel she could
+make him happy; and I could bear it if she did.'
+
+'Spanish?' said Landi, as if to himself. 'Ole! ole! Does she use the
+castanets, and wear a mantilla instead of a cap?'
+
+'How frivolous and silly you are. No, of course not. She looks quite
+English, in fact particularly so.'
+
+'And yet you insist she's Spanish! Well, my advice is this. If he has a
+secret alliance with Spain, you should assume the Balkan attitude.'
+
+'Good gracious! What's that?'
+
+'We're talking politics,' said Landi, across the table. 'Politics, and
+geography! Fancy, Meetchel, Mrs Ottley doesn't know anything about
+the Balkans!'
+
+'Ha, very good,' said Mitchell. 'Capital. What a fellow you are!' He
+gave his hearty, clubbable laugh. Mr Mitchell belonged to an
+exceptionally large number of clubs and was a favourite at all. His
+laugh was the chief cause of his popularity there.
+
+'Il est fou,' said Landi quietly to Edith. 'Quel monde! I don't think
+there are half-a-dozen sane people at this table.'
+
+'Oh, Landi!'
+
+'And if there are, they shouldn't by rights be admitted into decent
+society. But the dear Meetchels don't know that; it's not public. I
+adore them both,' he went on, changing his satirical tone, and again
+apparently drinking the health of Mrs Mitchell, who waved her hand
+coquettishly from the end of the long table.
+
+'Now listen, my child. Don't see Aylmer for a little while.'
+
+'He wants me to take him out for a drive.'
+
+'Take him for a drive. But not this week. How Madame Frabelle loves
+Bruce!' he went on, watching her.
+
+'Really, Landi, I assure you you're occasionally as mistaken as she is.
+And she thinks I'm in love with our host.'
+
+'That's because _elle voit double_. I don't.'
+
+'What makes you think....'
+
+'I read between the lines, my dear--between the lines on Madame
+Frabelle's face.'
+
+'She hasn't any.'
+
+'Oh, go along,' said Landi, who sometimes broke into peculiar English
+which he thought was modern slang. Raising his voice, he said: 'The
+dinner is _exquis--exquis_,' so that Mr Mitchell could hear.
+
+'I can't help noting what you've eaten tonight, Landi, though I don't
+usually observe these things,' Edith said. 'You've had half-a-tomato, a
+small piece of vegetable marrow, and a sip of claret. Aren't you going
+to eat anything more?'
+
+'Not much more. I look forward to my coffee and my cigar. Oh, how I look
+forward to it!'
+
+'You know very well, Landi, they let you smoke cigarettes between the
+courses, if you like.'
+
+'It would be better than nothing. We'll see presently.'
+
+'Might I inquire if you live on cigars and coffee?'
+
+'No,' he answered satirically; 'I live on eau sucre. And porreege. I'm
+Scotch.'
+
+'I can't talk to you if you're so silly.'
+
+'You'll tell me the important part on the little sofa upstairs in the
+salon,' he said. 'After dinner. Tonight, here, somehow, the food and the
+faces distract one--unless one is making an acquaintance. I know you too
+well to talk at dinner.'
+
+'Quite true. I ought to take time to think then.'
+
+'There's no hurry. Good heavens! the man has waited four years; he can
+wait another week. Quelle idee!'
+
+'He's going back,' said Edith, 'as soon as he's well. He wants me to
+promise before he goes.'
+
+'Does he! You remind me of the man who said to his wife: "Good-bye, my
+dear, I'm off to the Thirty Years' War." It's all right, Edith. We'll
+find a solution, I have no fears.'
+
+She turned to Mr Mitchell.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Alone with the women, Madame
+Frabelle was the centre of an admiring circle, as she lectured on 'dress
+and economy in war-time,' and how to manage a house on next to nothing a
+year. All the ladies gasped with admiration. Edith especially was
+impressed; because the fact that Madame Frabelle was a guest, and was
+managing nothing, did not prevent her talking as if she had any amount
+of experience on the subject, although, by her own showing she had been
+staying at hotels ever since the war began, except the last weeks she
+had spent with the Ottleys.
+
+The men soon joined them.
+
+A group of war valetudinarians, amongst whom Bruce was not the least
+emphatic, told each other their symptoms in a quiet corner. They
+described their strange shiverings down the spine; the curious fits of
+hunger that came on before meals; the dislike to crossing the road when
+there was an accident; the inability to sleep, sometimes taking the form
+of complete insomnia for as much as twenty minutes in the early morning.
+They pitied each other cordially, though neither listened to the other's
+symptoms, except in exchange for sympathy with their own.
+
+'The war has got on my nerves; I can't think of anything else,' Bruce
+said. 'It's an _idee fixe_. I pant for the morning when the newspaper's
+due, and then I can't look at it! Not even a glance! Odd, isn't it?'
+
+The Rev. Byrne Fraser, who gave his wife great and constant anxiety by
+his fantasies, related how he had curious dreams--the distressing part
+of which was that they never came true--about the death of relatives at
+the front. Another man also had morbid fancies on the subject of the
+casualty list, and had had to go and stay at a farm so as to 'get right
+away from it all'. But he soon left, as he had found, to his great
+disappointment, that his companions there were not intellectual, and
+could not even talk politics or discuss literature. And yet they went in
+(or so he had heard) for 'intensive culture'!...
+
+Presently Sir Tito played his Italian march. The musical portion of the
+party, and the unmusical alike, joined in the chorus. Then the party
+received a welcome addition. Valdez, the great composer, who had written
+many successful operas and had lived so much abroad that he cared now
+for nothing but British music, looked in after a patriotic concert given
+in order to help the unengaged professionals. Always loyal to old
+friends, he had deserted royalty itself tonight to greet Mrs. Mitchell
+and was persuaded by adoring ladies to sing his celebrated old song,
+'After Several Years.' It pleased and thrilled the audience even more
+than Landi's 'Adieu Hiver'. Indeed, tonight it was Valdez who was the
+success of the evening. Middle-aged ladies who had loved him for years
+loved him now more than ever. Young girls who saw him now for the first
+time fell in love, just as their mothers had done, with his splendid
+black eyes and commanding presence, and secretly longed to stroke at
+least every seventh wave of his abundant hair. When Edith assured him
+that his curls were 'like a flock of goats on Mount Gilead' he laughed,
+declared he was much flattered at the comparison, and kissed her hand
+with courtly grace.
+
+Young Mr. Cricker, who came because he wasn't asked, insisted on dancing
+like Nijinsky because he was begged not to, but his leaps and bounds
+were soon stopped by a few subalterns and very young officers on leave,
+who insisted, with some fair partners, on dancing the Fox Trot to the
+sound of a gramophone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a few moments on the little sofa Edith managed to convey the rest of
+her confidence to Landi. She pointed out how hurried, how urgent, how
+pressing it was to give an answer.
+
+'He wants a war elopement, I see,' said Landi. 'Mais ca ne se fait pas!'
+
+'Then what am I to say?'
+
+'Rien.'
+
+'But, Landi, you know I shan't really ever...'
+
+'Would it give you pleasure to see him married to the Spanish girl?'
+
+'She's not exactly Spanish--she only looks it. Don't laugh like that!'
+
+'I don't know why, but Spain seems always to remind me of something
+ridiculous. Onions--or guitars.'
+
+'Well, I shouldn't mind her nearly so much as anyone else.'
+
+'You don't mind her,' said Landi. 'Vous savez qu'il ne l'epouse pas?
+What would you dislike him to do most?'
+
+'I think I couldn't bear anyone else to take my place exactly,' admitted
+Edith.
+
+'C'est ca! you don't want him to be in love with another married woman
+with a husband like Bruce? Well, my dear, he won't. There is no other
+husband like Bruce.
+
+Landi promised to consider the question, and she arranged to go and see
+him at his studio before seeing Aylmer again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As they went out of the house Miss Coniston ran after Madame Frabelle
+and said eagerly:
+
+'Oh, do tell me again; you say _soupe a la vinaigre_ is marvellously
+nourishing and economical. I can have it made for my brother at
+our flat?'
+
+'Of course you can! It costs next to nothing.'
+
+Arthur Coniston came up.
+
+'And tastes like nothing on earth, I suppose?' he grumbled in his
+sister's ear. 'You can't give me much less to eat than you do already.'
+
+'Oh, Arthur!' his sister said. 'Aren't you happy at home? I think you're
+a pessimist.'
+
+'A pessimist!' cried Mitchell, who was following them into the hall.
+'Oh, I hate pessimists! What's the latest definition of them? Ah, I
+know; an optimist is a person who doesn't care what happens as long as
+it doesn't happen to him.'
+
+'Yes,' said Edith quickly, 'and a pessimist is the person who lives with
+the optimist.'
+
+'Dear, dear. I always thought the old joke was that an optimist looks
+after the eyes, and a pessimist after the feet!' cried Madame Frabelle
+as she fastened her cloak.
+
+'Why, then, he ought to go to a cheer-upadist!' said Mr Mitchell. And
+they left him in roars of laughter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Dulcie Clay, in her neat uniform of grey and white, with the scarlet
+cross on the front of her apron, was sitting in the room she occupied
+for the moment in Aylmer's house in Jermyn Street. It was known as 'the
+second best bedroom'. As she was anxious not to behave as if she were a
+guest, she used it as a kind of boudoir when she was not in attendance.
+
+It was charmingly furnished in the prim Chippendale style, a style
+dainty, but not luxurious, that seemed peculiarly suited to Dulcie.
+
+She was in the window-seat--not with her feet up, no cushions behind
+her. Unlike Edith, she was not the kind of woman who rested habitually;
+she sat quite upright in the corner. A beautiful little mahogany table
+was at her right, with a small electric lamp on it, and two books. One
+of the books was her own choice, the other had been lent to her by
+Aylmer. It was a volume of Bernard Shaw. She could make neither head nor
+tail of it, and the prefaces, which she read with the greatest avidity,
+perplexed her even more than the books themselves. Every now and then a
+flash of lightning, in the form of some phrase she knew, illumined for a
+second the darkness of the author's words. But soon she closed the thick
+volume with the small print and returned to _The Daisy Chain_.
+
+Dulcie was barely one-and-twenty. She carried everywhere in her trunk a
+volume called _The Wide, Wide World_. She was never weary of reading
+this work with the comprehensive title; it reminded her of schooldays.
+It was comforting, like a dressing-gown and slippers, like an old
+friend. Whether she had ever thoroughly understood it may be doubted. If
+any modern person nowadays were to dip into it, he would find it,
+perhaps, more obscure than George Meredith at his darkest. Secretly
+Dulcie loved best in the world, in the form of reading matter, the
+feuilletons in the daily papers. There was something so exciting in that
+way they have of stopping at a thrilling moment and leaving you the
+whole day to think over what would come next, and the night to sleep
+over it. She preferred that; she never concentrated her mind for long on
+a story, or any work of the imagination. She was deeply interested in
+her own life. She was more subjective than objective--though, perhaps,
+she had never heard the words. Unconsciously she dealt with life only as
+it related to herself. But this is almost universal with young girls who
+have only just become conscious of themselves, and of their importance
+in the world; have only just left the simple objectiveness of the child
+who wants to look at the world, and have barely begun to feel what it is
+to be an actor rather than a spectator.
+
+Not that any living being could be less selfish or vain, or less of an
+egotist than Dulcie. If she saw things chiefly as they were related to
+herself, it was because this problem of her life was rather an intricate
+one. Her position was not sufficiently simple to suit her simple nature.
+
+Her mother, who had been of Spanish descent, had died young; her father
+had married again. He was the sort of man who always married again, and
+if his present wife, with whom he was rather in love, had passed away he
+would have undoubtedly married a third time. Some men are born husbands;
+they have a passion for domesticity, for a fireside, for a home. Yet,
+curiously, these men very rarely stay at home. Apparently what they want
+is to have a place to get away from.
+
+The new stepmother, who was young and rather pretty, was not unkind, but
+was bored and indifferent to the little girl. Dulcie was sensitive;
+since her father's second marriage she had always felt in the way.
+Whether her stepmother was being charming to her husband, or to some
+other man--she was always charming to somebody--Dulcie felt continually
+that she was not wanted. Her father was kind and casual. He told
+everyone what he believed, that his second wife was an ideal person to
+bring up his little daughter.
+
+Therefore it came upon him as a surprise when she told him she was grown
+up, and still more that she wished to leave home and be a nurse. Mrs.
+Clay had made no objection; the girl rather depressed her, for she felt
+she ought to like her more than she did, so she 'backed up' with
+apparent good nature the great desire to go out and do something.
+
+Dulcie had inherited three hundred a year from her mother. Her father
+had about the same amount of his own to live on. He believed that he
+added to it by mild gambling, and perhaps by talking a good deal at his
+club of how he had been born to make a fortune but had had no luck. His
+second wife had no money.
+
+Dulcie, therefore, was entirely independent. No obstacles were placed in
+her way--the particular form that her ambition took was suggested by the
+war, but in any case she would have done something. She had taken the
+usual means of getting into a hospital.
+
+Gentle, industrious, obedient and unselfish, she got on well. Her
+prettiness gained her no enemies among the women as she was too serious
+about her work at this time to make use of her beauty by attracting men.
+Yet Dulcie was unusually feminine; she had a natural gift for nursing,
+for housekeeping, for domesticity. She was not artistic and was as
+indifferent to abstractions and to general ideas as the ideal average
+woman. She was tactful, sweet, and, she had been called at school,
+rather a doormat. Her appearance was distinguished and she was not at
+all ordinary. It is far from ordinary, indeed it is very rare, to be the
+ideal average woman. She took great interest in detail; she would lie
+awake at night thinking about how she would go the next day to a certain
+inexpensive shop to get a piece of ribbon for one part of her dress to
+match a piece of ribbon in another part--neither of which would ever be
+seen by any human being.
+
+Such men as she saw liked and admired her. Her gradual success led her
+to being sent abroad to a military hospital. She inspired confidence,
+not because she had initiative, but because one knew she would do
+exactly as she was told, which is, in itself, a great quality. At
+Boulogne she made the acquaintance at once of Aylmer, and of _the coup
+de foudre_. She worshipped him at first sight. So she thought herself
+fortunate when she was allowed to come back to London with him. Under
+orders she continued her assiduous attention. Everyone said she was a
+perfect nurse.
+
+Occasionally she went to see her father. He greeted her with warmth and
+affection, and told her all about how, on account of racing being
+stopped, he was gradually becoming a pauper. When she began telling him
+of the events in which she was absorbed he answered by giving her news
+of the prospects for the Cambridgeshire. In the little den in the house
+in West Kensington, where he lived, she would come in and say in a
+soft voice:
+
+'Papa dear, you know I shan't be able to stop much longer.'
+
+'Much longer where?'
+
+'Why, with my patient, Mr Ross--Mr Aylmer Ross.'
+
+'Shan't you? Mind you, my dear, there are two good three-year-olds that
+are not to be sneezed at.' He shook his head solemnly.
+
+It had never occurred to Dulcie for a moment to sneeze at
+three-year-olds. She hardly knew what they were.
+
+'But what do you advise for me, papa?'
+
+'My dear child, I can't advise. You can't select with any approach to
+confidence between Buttercup and Beautiful Doll. Mind you, I'm very much
+inclined to think that More Haste may win yet. Look how he ran in
+August, when nobody knew anything about him!'
+
+'Yes, I know, papa, but--'
+
+She gave it up.
+
+'Go and see your mother, dear; go and ask her about it,' and he returned
+to the racing intelligence.
+
+Strange that a man who had not enough to live on should think he could
+add to his income by backing losers. Still, such was Mr Clay's view of
+life. Besides, he was just going out; he was always just going out.
+
+She would then go and see her stepmother, who greeted her most
+affectionately.
+
+Dulcie only kept half her little income for herself at present, a
+considerable advantage to a woman like Mrs Clay, who declared she was
+'expected to dress up to a certain standard, though, of course, simply
+during war-time.' She would kiss the girl and drag her up to her bedroom
+to show her a new coat and skirt, or send the general servant up to
+bring down the marvellously cheap little tea-gown that had just
+come home.
+
+Both her parents, it will be seen, were ready enough to talk to her, but
+they were not prepared to listen. All the warmth and affection that she
+had in her nature very naturally was concentrated on her patient.
+
+Dulcie now sat in the window-seat, wondering what to do. She was sadly
+thinking what would happen when the time came for her to leave.
+
+In her mind she knew perfectly well that what several people had said
+was true: the profession she had chosen was too arduous for her physical
+strength. Besides, now she could not bear the idea of nursing anyone
+else after Aylmer. She was trying to make up her mind to take something
+else--and she could not think what.
+
+A girl like Dulcie Clay, who has studied only one thing really
+thoroughly, could be fitted only to be a companion either to children,
+whom she adored, or to some tedious elderly lady with fads. She knew she
+would not do for a secretary; she had not the education nor the gift
+for it.
+
+The thought of going back to the stepmother who showed so clearly her
+satisfaction and high spirits in having got rid of her, and of being
+again the unwanted third in the little house in West Kensington, was
+quite unbearable.
+
+She had told much of her position to Edith, who was so sympathetic and
+clever. It would have been a dream of hers, a secret dream, to teach
+Edith's little girl, whom she had once seen, and loved. Yet that would
+have been in some ways rather difficult. As she looked out of the
+window, darkened with fog, she sighed. If she had been the governess at
+Edith's house, she would be constantly seeing Aylmer. She knew, of
+course, all about Aylmer's passion. It would certainly be better than
+nothing to see him sometimes. But the position would have been painful.
+Also, she disliked Bruce. He had given her one or two looks that seemed
+rather to demand admiration than to express it; he had been so kind as
+to give her a few hints on nursing; how to look after a convalescent;
+and had been exceedingly frank and kind in confiding to her his own
+symptoms. As she was a hospital nurse, it seemed to him natural to talk
+rather of his own indisposition than on any other subject. Dulcie was
+rather highly strung, and Bruce got terribly on her nerves; she
+marvelled at Edith's patience. But then Edith.... No, she could not go
+to the Ottleys.
+
+Her other gift--a beautiful soprano voice--also was of hardly any use to
+her, as she was now placed. When she sang she expressed herself more
+completely than at any other time, but that also she had not been taught
+thoroughly; she had been taught nothing thoroughly.
+
+A companion! Though she had not absolutely to earn her living, and kept
+only half of her little inheritance for herself, what was to become of
+her? Well, she wouldn't think about it any more that day. At any rate
+Aylmer talked as though she was to remain some time longer.
+
+When he had returned suddenly to the house in Jermyn Street, a relative
+had hastily obtained for him the necessary servants; his former valet
+was at the front; they were all new to him and to his ways, and he had
+no housekeeper. Dulcie did the housekeeping--could she take that place
+in his house? No, she knew that she was too young, and everyone else
+would have said she was too pretty. Only as a nurse would it be correct
+for her to be his companion.
+
+And from fear of embarrassing him she was hardly ever with him alone.
+She thought he was abrupt, more cool to her since their return, and
+guessed the reason; it was for fear of compromising her. How angelic of
+him; what a wonderful man--how fortunate his first wife must have been.
+And the boy, Teddy--the charming boy so like his father, whom she had
+only seen for a day or two before he left to go out. Teddy's presence
+would help to make it more difficult for her to remain.
+
+In that very short time the boy had distinctly shown her by his marked
+attention how much he admired her. He thought her lovely. He was devoted
+to music and she had sung to him.
+
+Aylmer also liked music, but apparently did not care to hear her sing.
+On the occasion that she did, it seemed to irritate him. Indeed, she
+knew she was merely the most amateurish of musicians, and could just
+accompany herself in a few songs, though the voice itself was a rare
+gift.... How perfect Aylmer had been!... There was a sharp ring. She
+closed the book, turned out the little electric lamp and went
+downstairs.
+
+She was looking ideally pretty in the becoming uniform, but uniforms are
+always becoming, whatever the uniforms or the people may be. The reason
+of this is too obscure to fathom. One would say that to dress to suit
+oneself would be more becoming to men and women. Yet, in fact, the
+limitation and the want of variety in this sort of dress had a singular
+attraction. However, if she had chosen it to suit her, nothing could
+have been more becoming. The severity of the form, the dull colour,
+relieved by the large scarlet cross, showed off to the greatest
+advantage her dense dark hair, her Madonna-like face and the slim yet
+not angular lines of her figure. Dulcie's beauty was of a kind that is
+thrown into relief by excessive plainness of dress.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+As she came in, Aylmer looked at her with more observation than usual,
+and he acknowledged to himself that she was pretty--remarkably pretty,
+quite a picture, as people say, and he liked her, as one likes a
+confidante, a reliable friend. He trusted her, remembering how he had
+given himself away to her that dreadful day in the Boulogne hospital....
+And she had another quality that pleased him immensely; she was neither
+coquettish nor affected, but simple and serious. She appeared to think
+solely of her duties, and in Aylmer's opinion that was just what a nurse
+should do.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Edith's remark that Dulcie was madly in love with him had made a
+certain impression on his mind. Indeed, everything Edith said, even a
+merely trivial observation, was of importance to Aylmer. Edith wouldn't
+have said that unless she meant it. If it was true, did it matter?
+Aylmer was very free from vanity and masculine coquetry. He had a good
+deal of pride and great self-respect. Like almost every human being who
+is superior to the average, he didn't think ill of himself; there were
+things that he was proud of. He was proud, secretly, of having gone into
+the army and of having been wounded. It made him feel he was not on the
+shelf, not useless and superannuated. He took a certain pride also in
+his judgement, his excellent judgement on pictures and literature.
+Perhaps, even, having been a spoilt only child, he was privately proud
+of some of his faults. He knew he was extravagant and impatient. The
+best of everything was barely good enough for Aylmer. Long before he
+inherited the property that had come to him a year ago he had never been
+the sort of young man who would manage on little; who would, for
+example, go to the gallery by Underground or omnibus to see a play or to
+the opera. He required comfort, elbow-room, ease. For that reason he had
+worked really hard at the Bar so as to have enough money to live
+according to his ideas. Not that he took any special interest in the
+Bar. His ideal had always been--if it could be combined--to be either a
+soldier or a man of leisure, devoted to sport, literature and art.
+
+Now he had asserted himself as a soldier, and he meant to go back. But
+he looked forward to leisure to enjoy and indulge his favourite tastes,
+if possible, with the only woman he had ever been deeply in love with.
+
+He was particularly attractive to women, who liked his strong will and
+depth of feeling, his assertive manner and that feeling of trust that he
+inspired. Women always know when a man will not treat them badly.
+Teddy's mother, his first wife, he had really married out of pity.
+
+When she died everyone regarded it as a tragedy except himself. He still
+worshipped his mother, whose little miniature he kept always by him, and
+he had always fancied that Edith resembled her. This was simply an _idee
+d'amoureux_, for there was no resemblance. His mother, according to the
+miniature, had the dark hair and innocent expression that were the
+fashion at the time, while Edith was fair, with rather dark eyebrows,
+grey eyes and the mouth and chin characteristic of Burne-Jones's and
+Rossetti's pictures. But though she might be in appearance a
+Burne-Jones, she was very modern. His favourite little photograph of her
+that he had shown, in his moment of despair, to Dulcie, showed a
+charming face, sensuous yet thoughtful, under a large hat. She had fur
+up to her chin, and was holding a muff; it was a snapshot taken the
+winter before they had parted.
+
+Aylmer worshipped these two women: his dead mother and the living woman
+whom he had never given up entirely. How unlike were both the types to
+Dulcie Clay, with her waved Madonna hair, dark skin, large, clear blue
+eyes, softened by eyelashes of extraordinary length. Her chin was very
+small, her mouth fine, rather thin; she had a pathetic expression; one
+could imagine her attending, helping, nursing, holding a child in her
+arms, but not his intellectual equal, guiding and directing like his
+mother; and without the social brilliance and charm of Edith.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seeing him looking at her with a long, observant look, Dulcie became
+nervous and trembled slightly. She waited for him to speak.
+
+'Come here, Miss Clay. I want to speak to you.'
+
+Instantly she sat down by him.
+
+'I wanted to say--you've been most awfully kind to me.'
+
+Dulcie murmured something.
+
+'I'm nearly well now--aren't I?'
+
+'Dr Wood says you can go out driving next week.'
+
+'Yes; but I don't mean that. I mean, I'm well in myself?'
+
+He spoke quickly, almost impatiently.
+
+'The doctor says you're still suffering from nervous shock;' she
+answered in a toneless voice, professionally.
+
+'Still, very soon I shan't need any attendance that a valet or a
+housekeeper couldn't give me, shall I?'
+
+'No, I suppose not.'
+
+'Well, my dear Miss Clay--of course, I shall hate you to go,' he said
+politely, 'but don't you think we ought to be thinking--'
+
+He stopped.
+
+She answered:
+
+'Of course I'll go whenever you and Dr Wood think it right.'
+
+'You see,' he went on, 'I know I shall need a housekeeper, especially
+when Teddy comes back. He's coming back on leave next week'--Aylmer
+glanced at the telegram in his hand--'and, well--'
+
+'You don't think I could--'
+
+'Of course you would make a splendid housekeeper,' he laughed. 'You are
+already, but--'
+
+She didn't wish to make him uncomfortable. Evidently he was thinking
+what she knew herself. But she was so reluctant to go.
+
+'Don't you think I could remain here for a little while?' she said
+modestly. 'To do the housekeeping and be useful? You see, I've nowhere
+to go really.'
+
+'But, my dear girl, excuse me, don't you see you're rather too--young.
+It would be selfish of me to let you.'
+
+He wished to say that it would be compromising, but a certain
+consciousness prevented his saying it. He felt he would be ridiculous if
+he put it into words.
+
+'Just as you like. How soon do you think I ought to go?'
+
+Though she tried not to show it, there was a look almost of despair in
+her face. Her eyes looked startled, as if trying not to shed tears.
+
+He was very sorry for her, but tried to hide it by a cool and impatient
+manner.
+
+'Well, shall we say in about a fortnight?'
+
+'Certainly.' She looked down.
+
+'I shall miss you awfully,' he said, speaking more quickly than usual to
+get it over.
+
+She gave a very small smile.
+
+'Er--and then may I ask what you're thinking of doing next?'
+
+'That was just what I was thinking about,' she answered rather naively.
+'There are so few things I can do.'
+
+Then fearing this sentence sounded like begging to remain, she hastily
+added:
+
+'And of course if I don't go home I might be a companion or look after
+children.'
+
+'I wonder if Mrs Ottley--' began Aylmer. 'She has a dear little girl,
+and I've heard her say she would soon want someone.'
+
+'Dilly?' said Dulcie, with a slight smile.
+
+'Yes, Dilly.'
+
+There was a moment of intense awkwardness between them.
+
+Then Dulcie said:
+
+'I'm afraid that wouldn't quite do. I'm not clever enough.'
+
+'Oh, rot. You know enough for a child like that. I shall speak to Mrs
+Ottley about it.'
+
+'It's very, very kind of you, but I would rather not. I think I shall
+try to be a companion.'
+
+'What's the name of that woman,' Aylmer said good-naturedly, 'that Irish
+woman, wife of one of the Cabinet Ministers, who came to the hospital at
+Boulogne and wanted to have lessons?'
+
+'Lady Conroy,' Dulcie answered.
+
+'Yes, Lady Conroy. Supposing that she needed a secretary or companion,
+would you dislike that?'
+
+'Oh, no, I should like it very much.'
+
+'Right. I'll get Mrs Ottley to speak to her about it. She said she was
+coming to London, didn't she?'
+
+'Yes. I got to know her fairly well,' said Dulcie. 'She's very
+charming.'
+
+'She's celebrated for her bad memory,' Aylmer said, with a smile.
+
+'She declares she forgets her own name sometimes. Once she got into a
+taxi and told the man to drive home. When he asked where that was, she
+said it was his business to know. She had forgotten her address.'
+
+They both laughed.
+
+'I'll go tomorrow,' said Dulcie, 'and see my stepmother, if you don't
+want me in the afternoon. Or, perhaps, the day you go for a drive would
+be better.'
+
+'Tell me, Miss Clay, aren't you happy at home?'
+
+'Oh, it isn't that. They don't want me. I'm in the way. You see, they've
+got used to my being out of the house.'
+
+'But, excuse me--you don't earn your own living really?'
+
+'No, that isn't really necessary. But I don't want to live at home.'
+
+Her face showed such a decided distaste to the idea that he said no
+more.
+
+'You're looking very well today,' Dulcie said.
+
+He sighed. 'I feel rather rotten. I can't read, can't settle to
+anything.'
+
+She looked at him sympathetically. He felt impelled to go on.
+
+'I'm a bit worried,' he continued.
+
+'About your son?'
+
+'No, not about him so much, though I wish he would get a flesh wound and
+be sent back,' his father said, laughing. 'But about myself.'
+
+She looked at him in silence.
+
+'You know--what I told you.'
+
+She made no answer, looking away to give him time to speak.
+
+'I've made a suggestion,' he said slowly.... 'If it's accepted it'll
+alter all my life. Of course I shall go out again. But still it will
+alter my life.'
+
+Suddenly, overpowered by the longing for sympathy, he said to himself
+aloud.
+
+'I wonder if there's a chance.'
+
+'I don't know what it is,' she murmured, but instinctively she had
+guessed something of it.
+
+'I don't want to think about it any more at present.'
+
+'Shall I read to you?'
+
+'Yes, do.'
+
+She quietly arranged a pillow behind him and took up a newspaper.
+
+He often liked her to read to him; he never listened to a word of it,
+but it was soothing.
+
+She had taken up 'This Morning's Gossip' from _The Daily Mail_, and she
+began in the soft, low, distinct voice reading from The Rambler:
+
+'Lord Redesdale says that when Lord Haldane's scheme for a Territorial
+Army was on foot he took it to the--'
+
+Aylmer stopped her.
+
+'No--not that'
+
+'Shall I read you a novel?'
+
+'I think I should like to hear some poetry today,' he answered.
+
+She had taken up a pretty, tiny little book that lay on his table,
+called _Lyrists of the Restoration_, and began to read aloud:
+
+5165
+  '_Phyllis is my only joy,
+  Faithless as the winds or seas,
+  Sometimes cunning, sometimes coy,
+  Yet she never fails to please_.'
+
+'Oh, please, stop,' Aylmer cried.
+
+She looked up.
+
+'It tinkles like an old-fashioned musical-box. Try another.'
+
+'What would you like?' she asked, smiling.
+
+He took up a French book and passed it to her.
+
+'You'll think I'm very changeable, but I should like this. Read me the
+beginning of _La-Bos_.'
+
+And she began.
+
+He listened with his eyes closed, lulled by the curious technique, with
+its constant repetitions and jewelled style, charmed altogether. She
+read French fluently enough.
+
+'That's delightful,' he said, but he soon noticed she was stumbling over
+the words. No, it was not suitable for her to read. He was obstinate,
+however, and was determined she should read him something.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So they fell back on _Northanger Abbey_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Lady Conroy had arrived home in Carlton House Terrace, complaining of a
+headache. She remained on the sofa in her sitting-room for about five
+minutes, during which time she believed she had been dozing. In reality
+she had been looking for her glasses, dropping her bag and ringing the
+bell to send a servant for a handkerchief.
+
+She was a handsome woman of thirty-eight, with black hair turning a
+little grey, grey Irish eyes and a wonderfully brilliant complexion. She
+must have been a remarkably good-looking girl, but now, to her great
+vexation, she was growing a little too fat. She varied between
+treatments, which she scarcely began before she forgot them, and utter
+indifference to her appearance, when she declared she was much happier,
+letting herself go in loose gowns, and eating everything of which she
+had deprived herself for a day or two for the sake of her figure.
+
+Lady Conroy had often compared herself to the old woman who lived in a
+shoe, because of her large family. Her friends declared she didn't
+remember how many children she had. She loved them, but there were
+certainly weeks when she didn't see the younger ones, for she was
+constantly absorbed in various different subjects. Besides, she spent
+most of her life in looking for things.
+
+She was hopelessly careless and had no memory at all.
+
+Suddenly she glanced at the watch on her wrist, compared it with the
+splendid Empire clock on the mantelpiece, and went with a bewildered
+look to the telephone on her writing-desk. Having gone through a
+considerable amount of torture by calling up the wrong number and
+absently ringing off as soon as she had got the right one, she at last
+found herself talking to Edith.
+
+'Oh, is that you, dear? How lucky to catch you! Yes.... Yes.... I came
+back yesterday. Dying to see you. Can't you come round and see me? Oh,
+you've got on your hat; you were just coming? Of course, I forgot! I
+knew I had an appointment with someone! How soon will you be here?...
+In a quarter of an hour? Good! Could you tell me the time, dear?...
+Four o'clock, thanks. My watch is wrong, and they've never wound the
+clock up all the time I've been away. Good-bye. Don't be long.... How
+soon did you say you could come?... Oh, about a quarter of an hour! Do
+hurry!... I say, I've something very particular to tell you. It's about...
+Oh, I'm detaining you. Very well. I see. Au revoir.'
+
+As she waited for her visitor, Lady Conroy walked round the room. Nearly
+everything on which she cast her eye reminded her of a different train
+of thought, so that by the time Edith was announced by the footman she
+had forgotten what she wanted to tell her.
+
+'How sweet you look, dear!' cried Lady Conroy, welcoming her most
+affectionately. 'How dear of you to come. You can't think how I was
+longing to see you. Can you tell me what day it is?'
+
+'Why, it's Thursday,' Edith said, laughing. 'Don't you remember? You
+wired to me to come and see you today.'
+
+'Of course; so I did. But, surely, I didn't ask you to come on
+Thursday?'
+
+'I assure you that you did.'
+
+'Fancy! How stupid of me! Thursday is my day at home. Dear, dear, dear.
+I forgot to tell Standing; there will be no proper tea. Oh, I've brought
+such a nice French maid--a perfect wonder. She knows everything. She
+always knows what I want. One moment, dear; I'll ring for her and give
+her orders. Wait a minute, though.' She took Edith's hand and patted it
+affectionately. 'Nobody knows I've come back; it'll be all right. We
+shan't have any visitors. I'm bursting with news to tell you.'
+
+'And I'm longing to hear what it is.'
+
+Lady Conroy's charming, animated face became blank. She frowned
+slightly, and a vague look came into her eyes--the pathetic look of
+someone who is trying to remember.
+
+'Wait a minute--what is it? Oh yes. You know that woman you introduced
+me to at Dieppe?'
+
+'What woman?'
+
+'Don't you know, dear? Good heavens, it was you who introduced her--you
+ought to know.'
+
+'Do you mean Madame Frabelle?' asked Edith, who was accustomed to Lady
+Conroy, and could follow the drift of her mind.
+
+'Capital! That's it. How wonderful of you! Yes, Madame Frabelle. How do
+you like her?'
+
+'Very much. But I didn't introduce her to you. You sent her to me.'
+
+'Did I? Well, it's very much the same. Look here, Edith dear. This is
+what I want to ask you. I remember now. Oh, do you mind ringing the bell
+for me? I must tell Marie about the tea, in case people call.'
+
+Edith obeyed.
+
+'You see, dear,' went on her hostess, 'I've undertaken a terrific number
+of things--Belgian refugees, weekly knitting, hundreds of societies--all
+sorts of war work. Well, you know how busy I am, even without all that,
+don't you? Thank heaven the boys are at school, but there are the
+children in the nursery, and I don't leave them--at least hardly
+ever--to their nurse. I look after them myself--when I think of it. Oh,
+they've grown such heavenly angels--too sweet! And how's your
+pet, Dilly?'
+
+'Very well. But do go on.'
+
+'How right of you to keep me to the point, darling. That's where you're
+such a comfort always. Do you mind passing me my glasses? Thanks.'
+
+She put them on and immediately took them off. She only needed them for
+reading.
+
+'Oh yes. I wanted to consult you about something, Edith.'
+
+The footman came in.
+
+'Oh, Standing, send Marie to me at once.... Bother the man, how he keeps
+worrying! Well, Edith dear, as I've got all this tremendous lot of work
+to do, I've made up my mind, for the sake of my health, I simply must
+have a sort of secretary or companion. You see?'
+
+'I quite see. You spoke of it before.'
+
+'Well, how do you think that woman you introduced to me, Madame
+Frabelle--how do you think she would--? Oh, Marie, today's my day at
+home; isn't it, Edith?'
+
+'Today is Thursday,' said Edith.
+
+'Thursday! Oh, my dear. Thursday's not my day at home. Well, anyhow,
+never mind about that. What was I saying, Marie?'
+
+Marie remained respectfully waiting, with a tight French smile on her
+intelligent face.
+
+'Oh, I know what it was. Marie, I want you to look after certain things
+for me here--anyhow, at present. I want you to tell the cook that I want
+tea at four o'clock. Oh no, it's half-past four--well, at five. And
+there's something I particularly want for tea. What is it?' she asked,
+looking at Edith. Immediately answering herself she said: 'I know, I
+want muffins.'
+
+'Madame want "nuffing"?' said Marie.
+
+'No, no, no! Don't be so stupid. It's an English thing, Marie; you
+wouldn't understand. Something I've forgotten to tell the cook about.
+It's so cosy I always think in the winter in London. It always cheers me
+up. You know, what is it?... I know--muffins--_muffins_!' she said the
+word carefully to the French maid.
+
+Edith came to the rescue.
+
+'Tell the cook,' she said, 'for madame, that she wants some muffins for
+tea.'
+
+'Oh, oui. Ah, oui, bien, madame. Merci, madame.'
+
+As the maid was going away Lady Conroy called out:
+
+'Oh, tell the cook it doesn't matter. I won't have them today.'
+
+'Bien, madame.'
+
+Edith was already in a somewhat hilarious mood. Lady Conroy didn't
+irritate her; she amused her almost more than any friend she had.
+Besides, once she could be got to concentrate on any one subject, nobody
+was more entertaining. Edith's English humour delighted in her friend's
+Irish wit.
+
+There was something singularly Irish in the way Lady Conroy managed to
+make a kind of muddle and untidiness all round her, when she had been in
+a room a minute or two. When she had entered the room, it was a
+fine-looking apartment, rather sparsely furnished, with very little in
+it, all severest First Empire style. There were a few old portraits on
+striped pale green walls, and one large basket of hot-house flowers on a
+small table. Yet, since her entrance, the room already looked as if
+several people had been spending the week in it without tidying it up.
+Almost mechanically Edith picked up her bag, books, newspaper,
+cigarettes and the glasses.
+
+'Well, then, you don't think Madame Frabelle would do?' said Lady
+Conroy.
+
+'My dear Lady Conroy, Madame Frabelle wouldn't dream of going as a
+companion or secretary. You want a young girl. She's about fifteen years
+older than you are and she's staying with me as my guest. I shouldn't
+even suggest such a thing.'
+
+'Why not? It wouldn't be at all a hard place.'
+
+'No, I know. But she doesn't want a place. She's very well off,
+remember.'
+
+'Good heavens, she can't have much to do then if she's only staying with
+you,' said Lady Conroy.
+
+'Oh, she has plenty of engagements. No, I shouldn't advise Madame
+Frabelle. But I do know of someone.'
+
+'Do you? Oh, darling Edith, how sweet of you. Oh, just ring the bell for
+me, will you?'
+
+Edith rang.
+
+'I want to send for Marie, my maid, and tell her to order some muffins
+for tea. I forgot to tell the cook.'
+
+'But you have already ordered and countermanded them.'
+
+'Oh, have I?--so I have! Never mind, don't ring. It doesn't matter. Who
+do you know, dear?'
+
+Standing appeared in answer to the bell.
+
+'What do you want, Standing? You mustn't keep bothering and interrupting
+me like this. Oh, tea? Yes, bring tea. And tell Marie I shan't want her
+after all.'
+
+Lady Conroy leant back against her cushions and with a sigh went on:
+
+'You see, I'm in the most terrible muddle, dear Edith. I don't know
+where to turn.'
+
+She turned to her writing-table and opened it.
+
+'Look at this, now,' she said rather triumphantly. 'This is all about my
+war work. Oh no, it isn't. It's an advertisement from a washer-woman.
+Gracious, ought I to keep it, do you think? No, I don't think I need.'
+
+She folded it up and put it carefully away again.
+
+'Don't you think yourself I need someone?'
+
+'Yes, I do. I think it would be very convenient for you to have a nice
+girl with a good memory to keep your things in order.'
+
+'That's it,' cried Lady Conroy, delighted, as she lit a cigarette.
+'That's it--someone who will prevent me dropping cigarette ash all over
+the room and remember my engagements and help me with my war work and
+write my letters and do the telephoning. That's all I shall want. Of
+course, if she could do a little needlework--No, no, that wouldn't do.
+You couldn't expect her to do brainwork as well as needlework.'
+
+Edith broke in.
+
+'Do you remember mentioning to me a girl you met at Boulogne--a nurse
+called Dulcie Clay?'
+
+'Perfectly well,' answered Lady Conroy, puffing away at her cigarette,
+and obviously not speaking the truth.
+
+Edith laughed.
+
+'No, my dear, you don't. But it doesn't matter. Well, this girl has been
+nursing Mr Aylmer Ross, and he doesn't need her any more--at least he
+won't after next week. Would you see her and judge for yourself? You
+might try her.'
+
+'I'm sure I shall if I take her. I'm afraid I'm a trying person. I try
+everyone dreadfully. Oh, by the way, Edith, I met such a perfect angel
+coming over. He was a wounded soldier. He belongs to the Black Watch.
+Doesn't the name Black Watch thrill you? He's in the Irish Guards, so,
+of course, my heart went out to him.'
+
+'The Irish Guards as well?'
+
+'Oh no. That was another man.'
+
+She put her hand to her forehead.
+
+'I'm worrying you, dear, with my bad memory. I'm so sorry. Well, then,
+you'll see Madame Frabelle for me?'
+
+'I will if you like, but not as a companion. It's Miss Clay.'
+
+'Miss Clay,' repeated Lady Conroy. 'Ah, here's tea. Do you take milk and
+sugar. Edith?'
+
+'Let me pour it out,' said Edith, to whom it was maddening to see the
+curious things Lady Conroy did with the tea-tray. She was pouring tea
+into the sugar basin, looking up at Edith with the sweetest smile.
+
+'I can't stay long,' Edith went on. 'I'm very sorry, dear, but you
+remember I told you I'm in a hurry.... I've an appointment at
+Landi's studio.'
+
+'Landi? And who is that?'
+
+'You know him--the composer--Sir Tito.'
+
+'Oh, darling Sir Tito! Of course I do know him!' She smiled
+reminiscently. 'Won't you have anything to eat, dear? Do have a muffin!
+Oh, bother, there are none. I wonder how it is cook always forgets? Then
+you're going to send Madame Frabelle to see me the day after tomorrow?'
+
+Edith took both her hands and shook them, laughing, as she stood up.
+
+'I will arrange to send Miss Clay to see you, and if you like her, if
+you don't mind waiting about ten days or a fortnight, you might engage
+her. It would be doing her a great kindness. She's not happy at home.'
+
+'Oh, poor girl!'
+
+'And she went as a nurse,' continued Edith, 'chiefly because she
+couldn't think of anything else to do. She isn't really strong enough
+for nursing.'
+
+'Isn't she? How sad, poor girl. It reminds me of a girl I met at
+Boulogne. So pretty and nice. In very much the same position really. She
+also wasn't happy at home--'
+
+'This is the same girl,' said Edith. 'You wrote to me about her.'
+
+'Did I? Good heavens, how extraordinary! What a memory you've got,
+Edith. Well, then, she's sure to do.'
+
+'Still, you'd better have an interview,' said Edith. 'Don't trouble to
+ring. I must fly, dear. We'll soon meet again.'
+
+Lady Conroy followed her to the door into the hall, pouring forth
+questions, sympathy and cheerful communications about the charming young
+man in the Black Watch. Just before Edith escaped her friend said:
+
+'Oh, by the by, I meant to ask you something. Who is Madame Frabelle?'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Sir Tito lived in a flat in Mayfair, on the second floor of a large
+corner house. On the ground floor was his studio, which had two
+entrances. The studio was a large, square, white room, containing a
+little platform for pupils. A narrow shelf ran all the way round the
+dado; this shelf was entirely filled with the most charming collection
+of English and French china, little cottages, birds and figures. Above
+the shelf was a picture-rail, which again was filled all the way round
+with signed photographs of friends. Everything in the room was white,
+even the piano was _laque_ white, and the furniture, extremely luxurious
+and comfortable, was in colour a pale and yet dull pink. A curtain
+separated it from another smaller room, which again had a separate
+entrance into the hall on the left, and, through a very small
+dressing-room, led into the street on the right side.
+
+Sir Tito was waiting for Edith, spick, span and debonair as always
+(although during the war he had discarded his buttonhole). He was
+occupied, as he usually was in his leisure time, not in playing the
+piano or composing, but--in making photograph frames! This was his
+hobby, and people often said that he took more pleasure in the carving,
+cutting out, gumming and sticking together of these objects than in
+composing the melodies that were known and loved all over the world.
+
+As soon as Edith came in he showed her a tiny frame carved with
+rosebuds.
+
+'Regarde,' he said, his eyes beaming. 'Voila! C'est mignon,
+n'est-ce-pas? On dirait un petit coeur! Ravissante, hein?' He gazed at
+it lovingly.
+
+'Very sweet,' said Edith, laughing. 'Who is it for?'
+
+'Why, it's for your _mignonne_, Dilly. I've cut out a photograph of hers
+in the shape of a heart. Gentil, n'est ce pas?'
+
+He showed it to her with childish pleasure. Then he put all traces of
+the work carefully away in a drawer and drew Edith near to the fire.
+
+'I've just a quarter of an hour to give you,' said Sir Tito, suddenly
+turning into a serious man of business. And, indeed, he always had many
+appointments, not a few of which were on some subject connected with
+love affairs. Like Aylmer, but in a different way, Sir Tito was always
+being consulted, but, oddly enough, while it was the parents and
+guardians usually who went to Aylmer, husbands worried about their
+wives, mothers about their children; to the older man it was more
+frequently the culprit or the confidant himself or herself who came to
+confide and ask for help and advice.
+
+Edith said:
+
+'The dreadful thing I've to tell you, Landi, is that I've completely
+changed.'
+
+'Comment?'
+
+'Yes. I'm in love with him all over again.'
+
+'C'est vrai?'
+
+'Yes. I don't know how and I don't know why. When he first made that
+suggestion, it seemed wild--impossible. But the things he said--how
+absolutely true it is. Landi, my life's been wasted, utterly wasted.'
+
+Landi said nothing.
+
+'I believe I was deceiving myself,' she went on. 'I've got so accustomed
+to living this sort of half life I've become almost _abrutie_, as you
+would say. I didn't realise how much I cared for him. Now I know I
+always adored him.'
+
+'But you were quite contented.'
+
+'Because I made myself so; because I resolved to be satisfied. But,
+after all, there's something in what he says, Landi. My life with Bruce
+is only a makeshift. Nothing but tact, tact, tact. Oh, I'm so tired of
+tact!' She sighed. 'It seems to me now really too hard that I should
+again have such a great opportunity and should throw it away. You see,
+it is an opportunity, if I love him--and I'm not deceiving myself now.
+I'm in love with him. The more I think about it the more lovely it seems
+to me. It would be an ideal life, Landi.'
+
+He was still silent.
+
+She continued:
+
+'You see, Aylmer knows so well how much the children are to me, and he
+would never ask me to leave them. There's no question of my ever leaving
+them. And Bruce wouldn't mind. Bruce would be only too thankful for me
+to take them. And there's another thing--though I despised the idea at
+the time, there's a good deal in it. I mean that Aylmer's well off, so I
+should never be a burden. He would love to take the responsibility of us
+all. I would leave my income to Bruce; he would be quite comfortable and
+independent. Oh, he would take it. He might be a little cross, but it
+wouldn't last, Landi. He would be better off. He'd find
+somebody--someone who would look after him, perhaps, and make him quite
+happy and comfortable. You're shocked?'
+
+'Ca ne m'etonne pas. It's the reaction,' said Landi, nodding.
+
+'How wonderful of you to understand! I haven't seen him again, you know.
+I've just been thinking. In fact, I'm surprised at myself. But the more
+I reflect on what he said, the more wonderful it seems.... Think how
+he's cared for me all this time!'
+
+'Sans doute. You know that he adores you. But, Edith, it's all very
+well--you put like that--but could you go through with it?'
+
+'I believe I could now,' she answered. 'I begin to long to. You see, I
+mistook my own feelings, Landi; they seemed dulled. I thought I could
+live without love--but why should I? What is it that's made me change
+so? Why do I feel so frightened now at the idea of losing my happiness?'
+
+'C'est la guerre,' said Sir Tito.
+
+'The war? What has that to do with it?'
+
+'Everything. Unconsciously it affects people. Though you yourself are
+not fighting, Aylmer has risked his life, and is going to risk it again.
+This impresses you. To many temperaments things seem to matter less just
+now. People are reckless.'
+
+'Is it that?' asked Edith. 'Perhaps it is. But I was so completely
+deceived in myself.'
+
+'I always knew you could be in love with him,' said Landi. 'But wait a
+moment, Edith--need the remedy be so violent? I don't ask you to live
+without love. Why should a woman live without the very thing she was
+created for? But you know you hate publicity--vulgar scandal. Nobody
+loathes it as you do.'
+
+'It doesn't seem to matter now so much,' Edith said.
+
+'It's the war.'
+
+'Well, whatever's the cause, all I can tell you is that I'm beginning to
+think I shall do it! I want to!... I can't bear to refuse again. I
+haven't seen him since our talk. I changed gradually, alone, just
+thinking. And then you say--'
+
+'Many people have love in their lives without a violent public scandal,'
+he repeated.
+
+'Yes, I know. I understand what you mean. But I hate deceit, Landi. I
+don't think I could lead a double life. And even if I would, he
+wouldn't!'
+
+She spoke rather proudly.
+
+'Pauvre garcon!' said Sir Tito. 'Je l'admire.'
+
+'So do I,' said Edith. 'Aylmer's not a man who could shake hands with
+Bruce and be friends and deceive him. And you know, before, when I
+begged him to remain ... my friend ... he simply wouldn't. He always
+said he despised the man who would accept the part of a tame cat. And he
+doesn't believe in Platonic friendship: Aylmer's too honest, too _real_
+for that.'
+
+'But, Edith, oh, remember, before,' said Landi taking her hand, 'even
+when Bruce ran away with another woman, you couldn't bear the idea
+of divorce.'
+
+'I know. But I may have been wrong. Besides, I didn't care for him as I
+do now. And I'm older now.'
+
+'Isn't this rather sudden, my dear?'
+
+'Only because I've let myself go--let myself be natural! Oh, _do_
+encourage me--give me strength, Landi! Don't let me be a coward! Think
+if Aylmer goes out again and is killed, how miserable I should feel to
+have refused him and disappointed him--for the second time!'
+
+'Wait a moment, Edith. Suppose, as you say, he goes out again and is
+killed, and you _haven't_ disappointed him, what would your position
+be then?'
+
+She couldn't answer.
+
+'How is it your conscientiousness with regard to Bruce doesn't come in
+the way now? Why would it ruin him less now than formerly?'
+
+'Bruce doesn't seem to matter so much.'
+
+'Because he isn't fighting?' asked Sir Tito.
+
+'Oh no, Landi! I never thought of that. But you know he always imagines
+himself ill, and he's quite all right really. He'll enjoy his grievance.
+I _know_ he won't be unhappy. And he's older, and he's not tied to that
+silly, mad girl he ran away with. And besides, I'm older. This is
+probably _my_ last chance!'
+
+She looked at Landi imploringly, as if begging his permission.
+
+He answered calmly: 'Ecoute, cherie. When do you see him again?'
+
+'I'm to take him for a drive tomorrow.'
+
+'My dear Edith, promise me one thing; don't undertake anything yet.'
+
+'But why not?'
+
+'You mustn't. This may be merely an impulse; you may change again. It
+may be a passing mood.'
+
+'I don't think it is,' said Edith. 'Anyhow, it's my wish at present.
+It's the result of thinking, remember--not of his persuasion.'
+
+'Go for a drive, but give him no hope yet.' He took both her hands.
+'Make no promise, except to me. Don't I know you well? I doubt if you
+could do it.'
+
+'Yes, I could! I could go through _anything_ if I were determined, and
+if I had the children safe.'
+
+'Never mind that for the present. Live for the day. Will you promise me
+that?'
+
+She hesitated for a moment.
+
+Then he said:
+
+'Really, dear, it's too serious to be impulsive about. Take time.'
+
+'Very well, Landi. I promise you that.'
+
+'Then we'll meet again afterwards and talk it over. I'll come and see
+you.'
+
+'Very well. And mustn't I tell him anything? Not make him a little bit
+happy?'
+
+'Tell him nothing. Be nice to him. Enjoy your drive. Put off all
+decision at present.'
+
+He looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling, her colour, her expression
+were deepened. She looked all animation, with more life than he had ever
+seen in her.... Somehow the sight made his heart ache a little, a
+very little.
+
+Poor girl! Of course she had been starving for love, and hidden the
+longing under domestic interests, artistic, social, but human. But she
+deserved real love, a real lover. She was so loyal, so true herself.
+
+'Tiens! You look like a lamp that has been lighted,' said Sir Tito,
+chuckling a little to himself. 'Eh, bien!--and the pretty nurse? Does
+she still dance the Cachuca? I know I'm old-fashioned, but it's
+impossible for me not to associate everything Spanish with the
+ridiculous. I think of guitars, mantillas, sombreros, or--what else is
+it? Ah, I know--onions.'
+
+'She isn't even Spanish, really!'
+
+'Then why did you deceive me?' said Landi, a shade absently, with a
+glance at his watch and another in the mirror.
+
+'She can't remain with Aylmer. She knows it herself. I'm trying to
+arrange for her to become a companion for Lady Conroy.'
+
+He laughed.
+
+'You are more particular about her being chaperoned than you were last
+week.'
+
+'Landi, Aylmer will never care for her. She's a dear, but he won't.'
+
+'Tu ne l'a pas revu? Lui--Aylmer?'
+
+'No, but he's written to me.'
+
+'Oh, for heaven's sake, my child, burn the letters! I daresay it won't
+be difficult; they are probably all flames already.'
+
+'I did have one lovely letter,' said Edith.
+
+She took it out of her dress. He glanced at it.
+
+'Mon Dieu! To think that a pupil of mine drives about in a taxi-cab with
+compromising letters in her pocket! Non, tu est folle, veritablement,
+Edith.'
+
+To please him she threw it into the fire, after tearing a small blank
+piece of the paper off, and putting this unwritten-on scrap back in the
+bodice of her dress. As she hurried away, she again promised him not to
+undertake anything, nor to allow Aylmer to overpower her prudent
+intention during their drive.
+
+'What time do you start? I think I shall come too,' said Sir Tito,
+pretending to look at his engagement-book.
+
+He burst out laughing at her expression.
+
+'Ah, I'm not wanted! Tiens! If you're not very careful _one_ person will
+go with you, I can tell you. And that will be Madame Frabelle.'
+
+'No, she won't. Indeed not! It's the last day of Archie's holidays.'
+
+'He's coming with you?'
+
+'On the front seat, with the chauffeur,' said Edith.
+
+There was a ring at the bell. He lifted the curtain and caressingly but
+firmly pushed her through into the other room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Tito had another appointment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+While this drama was taking place in the little house in Sloane Street,
+Madame Frabelle, who lived for romance, and was always imagining it
+where it didn't exist, was, of course, sublimely unconscious of its
+presence. She had grown tired of her fancy about Edith and Mr Mitchell,
+or she made herself believe that her influence had stopped it. But she
+was beginning to think, much as she enjoyed her visit and delighted in
+her surroundings, that it was almost time for her at least to _suggest_
+going away.
+
+She had made Edith's friends her own. She was devoted to Edith, fonder
+of the children than anyone except their grandmother, and strangely,
+considering she was a visitor who gave trouble, she was adored by the
+servants and by everyone in the house, with the single exception
+of Archie.
+
+She was carrying on a kind of half-religious flirtation with the Rev.
+Byrne Fraser, who was gradually succeeding in making her very high
+church. Sometimes she rose early and left the house mysteriously. She
+went to Mass. There was a dreamy expression in her eyes when she came
+back. A slight perfume of incense, instead of the lavender water that
+she formerly affected, was now observable about her.
+
+She went to see the 'London Group' and the 'New English' with young
+Coniston, who explained to her all he had learnt from Aylmer, a little
+wrong; while she assured him that she knew nothing about pictures, but
+she knew what she liked.
+
+She bought book-bindings from Miss Coniston, and showed her how to cook
+macaroni and how to make cheap but unpalatable soup for her brother. And
+she went to all the war concerts and bazaars got up by Valdez, to
+meetings for the Serbians arranged by Mrs Mitchell and to Lady Conroy's
+Knitting Society for the Refugees. She was a very busy woman. But it was
+not these employments that were filling her mind as she sat in her own
+room, looking seriously at herself in the glass. Something made her a
+little preoccupied.
+
+She was beginning to fear that Bruce was getting too fond of her.
+
+The moment the idea occurred to her, it occurred to Bruce also. She had
+a hypnotic effect on him; as soon as she thought of anything he thought
+of it too. Something in her slight change of manner, her cautious way of
+answering, and of rustling self-consciously out of the room when they
+were left alone together, had this effect. Bruce was enchanted. Madame
+Frabelle thought he was getting too fond of her! Then, he must be!
+Perhaps he was. He certainly didn't like the idea at all of her going
+away and changed the subject directly she mentioned it. He had always
+thought her a very wonderful person. He was immensely impressed by her
+universal knowledge and agreeable manners and general charm. Still,
+Madame Frabelle was fifteen years older than Bruce, and Bruce himself
+was no chicken. Although he was under forty, his ideal of himself was
+that he liked only very young girls. This was not true. But as he
+thought it was, it became very much the same thing. As a matter of fact,
+only rather foolish girls were flattered at attentions from Bruce.
+Married women preferred spirited bachelors, and attractive girls
+preferred attractive boys. In fact, Bruce was not wanted socially, and
+he felt a little bit out of it among the men through not being among the
+fighters. The fact that he told everyone that he was not in khaki
+because he was in consumption didn't seem to make him more interesting
+to the general public. His neurotic heart bored his friends at the club.
+In fact there was not a woman, even his mother, except Madame Frabelle,
+who cared to listen to his symptoms. That she did so, and with sympathy,
+was one of her attractions.
+
+But as long as she had listened to them in a sisterly, friendly way, he
+regarded her only as a friend--a friend of whom he was very proud, and
+whom he respected immensely. As has been said, she impressed him so much
+that he did not know she bored him. When she began rustling out of the
+room when they were left alone, and looking away, avoiding his eye when
+he stared at her absently, things were different, and he began to feel
+rather flattered. Of course it would be an infernal shame, and not the
+act of a gentleman, to take advantage of one's position as a host by
+making love to a fascinating guest. But there was so much sympathy
+between them! It is only fair to say that the idea would never have
+occurred to Bruce unless it had first occurred to Madame Frabelle. If a
+distinguished-looking woman in violet velvet leaves the room five
+minutes after she's left alone with one--even though she has grey
+hair--it naturally shows that she thinks one is dangerous. The result of
+it all was that when Bruce heard Edith was taking Aylmer for a drive, he
+apologised very much indeed for not going with her. He said, frankly,
+much as he liked Aylmer, wounded heroes were rather a bore. He hoped
+Aylmer would forgive him. And Madame Frabelle had promised to take him
+to the Oratory. She disapproved of his fancy of becoming a Catholic; she
+was not one herself, though she was extremely high, and growing daily
+higher, but the music at the Oratory on that particular day was very
+wonderful, and they agreed to go there. And afterwards--well, afterwards
+they might stroll home, or--go and have tea in Bond Street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the last day of Archie's holidays, and though it was rather cold
+his mother insisted on taking him with her.
+
+Aylmer tried to hide the shade that came over his face when he saw the
+boy, but remembering that he had undertaken to be a father to him, he
+cheered up as soon as Archie was settled.
+
+It was a lovely autumn day, one of those warm Indian-summer days that
+resemble early spring. There is the same suggestion of warmer sunshine
+yet to come; the air has a scent as of growing things, the kind of
+muffled hopes and suppressed excitement of April is in the deceptive
+air. This sort of day is dangerous to charming people not in their very
+first youth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In high spirits and beyond the speed limit they started for Richmond.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A week later Aylmer and his son were sitting looking at each other in
+the old brown library. Teddy had come over for ten days' leave from
+somewhere in France. Everyone, except his father, was astonished how
+little he had changed. He seemed exactly the same, although he had gone
+through strange experiences. But Aylmer saw a different look in his
+eyes. He looked well and brisk--perhaps a little more developed and more
+manly; his shoulders, always rather thick and broad, seemed even
+broader, although he was thinner. But it was the expression of the eyes
+that had altered. Those eyes had _seen things_. In colour pale blue,
+they had a slightly strained look. They seemed paler. His sunburn
+increased his resemblance to his father, always very striking. Both had
+large foreheads, clearly cut features and square chins. Aylmer was,
+strictly speaking, handsomer. His features more refined, more chiselled.
+But Teddy had the additional charm of extreme youth--youth with the
+self-possession and ease that seemed, as it were, a copy--as his voice
+was an echo--of his father. The difference was in culture and
+experience. Teddy had gone out when he was just on the point of going to
+Balliol, yet seemed to have something of the Oxford manner,
+characteristic of his father--a manner suave, amiable, a little
+ironical. He had the unmistakable public-school look and his training
+had immensely improved his appearance.
+
+Aylmer was disappointed that the very first thing his son insisted on
+doing was to put on evening clothes and go to the Empire. That was where
+the difference in age told. Aylmer would not have gone to the Empire
+fresh from the fighting line. He made no objection, and concealed the
+tiniest ache that he felt when Teddy went out at once with Major Willis,
+an elder friend of his. Quite as old, Aylmer thought to himself, as _he_
+was. But not being a relative, he seemed of the same generation.
+
+The next evening Teddy spent at home, and sat with his father, who
+declared himself to be completely recovered, but was still not allowed
+to put his foot to the ground, Miss Clay was asked to sing to them. Her
+voice, as has been said, was a very beautiful one, a clear, fine
+soprano, with a timbre rare in quality, and naturally thrilling. She had
+not been taught well enough to be a public success perhaps, but was much
+more accomplished than the average amateur.
+
+Teddy delighted in it. She sang all the popular songs--she had a way
+that was almost humorous of putting refinement into the stupidest and
+vulgarest melody. And then she sang some of those technically poor but
+attaching melodies that, sung in a certain way, without sickening
+sentimentality or affectation, seem to search one's soul and bring out
+all that there is in one of romance.
+
+She looked very beautiful, that Aylmer admitted to himself, and she sang
+simply and charmingly; that he owned also. Why did it irritate him so
+intensely to see Teddy moved and thrilled, to see his eyes brighten, his
+colour rise and to see him obviously admiring the girl? When she made an
+excuse to leave them Teddy was evidently quite disappointed.
+
+The next day Aylmer limped down to the library. To his great surprise he
+heard voices in the room Dulcie used for her sitting-room. He heard
+Teddy begging her to sing to him again. He heard her refuse and then
+Teddy's voice asking her to go out to tea with him.
+
+Aylmer limped as loudly as he could, and they evidently heard him, but
+didn't mind in the least. He didn't want Miss Clay to stop at home. He
+was expecting Edith.
+
+'Hang it, let them go!' he said to himself, and he wondered at himself.
+Why should he care? Why _shouldn't_ she flirt with the boy if she liked,
+or rather--for he was too just not to own that it was no desire of
+hers--why shouldn't the boy make up to her? Whatever the reason was, it
+annoyed him.
+
+Annoyance was soon forgotten when Mrs Ottley was announced.
+
+Since their drive to Richmond there had been a period of extraordinary
+happiness and delight for Edith. Not another word had been said with
+reference to Aylmer's proposal. He left it in abeyance, for he saw to
+his great joy and delight that she was becoming her old self, more than
+her old self.
+
+Edith was completely changed. The first thing she thought of now in the
+morning was how soon she should see him again. She managed to conceal it
+well, but she was nervous, absent, with her eyes always on the clock,
+counting the minutes. When other people were present she was cool and
+friendly to Aylmer, but when they were alone he had become intimate,
+delightful, familiar, like the time, three years ago, when they were
+together at the seaside. But her mother-in-law had then been in the
+house. And the children. Everything was so conventional. Now she was
+able to see him alone. Really alone.... His eyes welcomed her as she
+came in. Having shut the door quietly, she reached his chair in a
+little rush.
+
+'Don't take off your hat. I like that hat. That was the hat you wore the
+day I told you--'
+
+'I'm glad it suits me,' she said, interrupting. 'Does it really? Isn't
+it too small?'
+
+'You know it does.'
+
+He was holding her hand. He slowly took off the glove, saying: 'What a
+funny woman you are, Edith. Why do you wear grey gloves? Nobody else
+wears grey gloves.'
+
+'I prefer white ones, but they won't stay white two minutes'
+
+'I like these.'
+
+'Tell me about Teddy. Don't, Aylmer!'
+
+Aylmer was kissing her fingers one by one. She drew them away.
+
+'Teddy! Oh, there's not much to tell.' Then he gave a little laugh. 'I
+believe he's fallen in love with Miss Clay.'
+
+'Has he really? Well, no wonder; think how pretty she is.'
+
+'I know. Is she? I don't think she's a bit pretty.'
+
+'She's to see Lady Conroy tomorrow, you know,' Edith said, divining an
+anxiety or annoyance in Aylmer on the subject.
+
+'Yes. Will it be all right?'
+
+'Oh yes.'
+
+'Well, Teddy's going back on Monday anyway, and I certainly don't need a
+nurse any more. Headley will do all I want.'
+
+Headley was the old butler.
+
+'What scent do you use, Edith?'
+
+'I hardly ever use any. I don't care for scent.'
+
+'But lately you have,' he insisted. 'What is it? I think I like it.'
+
+'It's got a silly name. It's called Omar Khayyam.'
+
+'I thought it was Oriental. I think you're Oriental, Edith. Though
+you're so fair and English-looking. How do you account for it?'
+
+'I can't think,' said Edith.
+
+'Perhaps you're a fair Circassian,' said he. 'Do you think yourself
+you're Oriental?'
+
+'I believe I am, in some ways. I like lying down on cushions. I like
+cigarettes, and scent, and flowers. I hate wine, and exercise, and
+cricket, and bridge.'
+
+'That isn't all that's needed. You wouldn't care for life in a harem,
+would you?' He laughed. 'You with your independent mind and your
+cleverness.'
+
+'Perhaps not exactly, but I can imagine worse things.'
+
+'I shall take you to Egypt,' he said. 'You've never been there, have
+you?'
+
+'Never.' Her eyes sparkled.
+
+'Yes, I shall take you to see the Sphinx. For the first time.'
+
+'Oh, you can't. You're looking very well, Aylmer, wonderfully better.'
+
+'I wonder why? You don't think I'm happy, do you?'
+
+'I am,' said Edith.
+
+'Because you're a woman. You live for the moment. I'm anxious about the
+future.'
+
+'Oh, oh! You're quite wrong. It's not women who live for the moment,'
+said Edith.
+
+'No, I don't know that the average woman does. But then you're not an
+average woman.'
+
+'What am I?'
+
+'You're Edith,' he answered, rather fatuously. But she liked it. She
+moved away.
+
+'Now that's awfully mean of you, taking advantage of my wounded limb.'
+
+She rang for tea.
+
+'And that's even meaner. It's treacherous,' he said, laughing.
+
+She sat down on a chair at a little distance.
+
+'Angel!' he said, in a low, distinct voice.
+
+'It is not for me to dictate,' said Edith, in a tone of command, 'but I
+should think it more sensible of you not to say these things to
+me--just now.'
+
+The servant came in with tea.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+Just before Archie went back to school he made a remark that impressed
+Edith strangely. Quite dressed and ready to start, as he was putting on
+his gloves, he fell into one of his reveries. After being silent for
+some time he said:
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, darling?'
+
+'Why doesn't father fight?'
+
+'I told you before, darling. Your father is not very strong.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, dear?'
+
+'Is Aylmer older than father?'
+
+'Yes. Aylmer's four years older. Why?'
+
+'I don't know. I wish I had a father who could fight, like Aylmer. And
+I'd like to fight too, like Teddy.'
+
+'Aylmer hasn't any wife and children to leave. Teddy's eighteen; you're
+only ten.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, dear?'
+
+'I wish I was old enough to fight. And I wish father was stronger.... Do
+you think I shall ever fight in this war?'
+
+'Good heavens, dear! I hope it isn't going to last seven years more.'
+
+'I wish it would,' said Archie ferociously. 'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, darling?'
+
+'But what's the matter with father? He seems quite well.'
+
+'Oh, he isn't very well. He suffers from nerves.'
+
+'Nerves! What's nerves?'
+
+'I think, darling, it's time for us to start. Where's your coat?'
+
+She drove him to the station. Most of the way he was very silent As she
+put him in the train he said.
+
+'Mother, give my love to Aylmer.'
+
+'All right, dear.'
+
+He then said:
+
+'Mother, I wish Aylmer was my father.'
+
+'Oh, Archie! You mustn't say that.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But she never forgot the boy's remark. It had a stronger influence on
+her action later than anything else. She knew Archie had always had a
+great hero-worship for Aylmer. But that he should actually prefer him
+to Bruce!
+
+She didn't tell Aylmer that for a long time afterwards.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before returning to the front Teddy had become so violently devoted to
+Miss Clay that she was quite glad to see him go. She received his
+attentions with calm and cool friendliness, but gave him not the
+smallest encouragement. She was three years older, but looked younger
+than her age, while Teddy looked much older, more like twenty-two. So
+that when on the one or two occasions during his ten days' leave they
+went out together, they didn't seem at all an ill-assorted couple. And
+whenever Aylmer saw the two together, it created the greatest irritation
+in him. He hardly knew which vexed him more--Dulcie for being attractive
+to the boy, or the boy for being charmed by Dulcie. It was absurd--out
+of place. It displeased him.
+
+A day or two after Teddy's departure Dulcie went to see Lady Conroy, who
+immediately declared that Dulcie was extraordinarily like a charming
+girl she had met at Boulogne. Dulcie convinced her that she was the
+same girl.
+
+'Oh, how perfectly charming!' said Lady Conroy. 'What a coincidence!
+_Too_ wonderful! Well, my dear, I can see at a glance that you're the
+very person I want. Your duties will be very, _very_ light. Oh, how
+light they will be! There's really hardly anything to do! I merely want
+you to be a sort of walking memorandum for me,' Lady Conroy went on,
+smiling. 'Just to recollect what day it is, and what's the date, and
+what time my appointments are, and do my telephoning for me, and write
+my letters, and take the dog out for a walk, and _sometimes_ just hear
+my little girls practise, and keep my papers in order. Oh, one can
+hardly say exactly--you know the sort of thing. Oh yes! and do the
+flowers,' said Lady Conroy, glancing round the room. 'I always forget my
+flowers, and I won't let Marie do them, and so there they are--dead in
+the vases! And I do like a few live flowers about, I must say,' she
+added pathetically.
+
+Dulcie said she thought she could undertake it.
+
+'Well, then, won't you stay now, and have your things sent straight on?
+Oh, do! I do wish you would. I've got two stalls for the St James's
+tonight. My husband can't come, and I can't think of anybody else to
+ask. I should love to take you.'
+
+Dulcie would have enjoyed to go. The theatre was a passion with her, as
+with most naive people. She made some slight objection which Lady Conroy
+at once waved away. However, Dulcie pointed out that she must go home
+first, and as all terms and arrangements absolutely suited both parties,
+it was decided that Dulcie should go to the play with her tonight and
+come the next day to take up her duties.
+
+She asked Lady Conroy if she might have her meals alone when there were
+guests, as she was very shy. A charming little sitting-room, opening out
+of the drawing-rooms, was put at her disposal.
+
+'Oh, certainly, dear; always, of course, except when I'm alone. But
+you'll come when I ask you, now and then, won't you? I thought you'd be
+very useful sometimes at boring lunches, or when there were too many
+men--that sort of thing. And I hear you sing. Oh, that will be
+delightful! You'll sing when we have a few tedious people with us? I
+adore music. We'll go to some of those all-British concerts, won't we?
+We must be patriotic. Do you know it's really been my dream to have a
+sweet, useful, sympathetic girl in the house. And with a memory too!
+Charming!'
+
+Dulcie went away fascinated, if slightly bewildered. It was a pang to
+her to say good-bye to Aylmer, the more so as he showed, in a way that
+was perfectly obvious to the girl, that he was pleased to see her go,
+though he was as cordial as possible.
+
+She had been an embarrassment to him of late. It was beginning to be what
+is known as a false position, since Headley the butler could now look
+after Aylmer. Except for a limp, he was practically well.
+
+Anyone who has ever nursed a person to whom they are devoted, helped him
+through weakness and danger to health again, will understand the curious
+pain she felt to see him independent of her, anxious to show his
+strength. Still, he had been perfect. She would always remember him with
+worship. She meant never to love anyone else all her life.
+
+When she said good-bye she said to him:
+
+'I do hope you'll be very happy.'
+
+He laughed, coloured a little, and said as he squeezed her hand warmly:
+
+'You've been a brick to me, Miss Clay. I shall certainly tell you if I
+ever am happy.'
+
+She wondered what that meant, but she preferred to try to forget it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Dulcie arrived, as she had been told, at a quarter to eight,
+dressed in a black evening dress (she didn't care to wear uniform at the
+theatre), she found Lady Conroy, who was lying on the sofa in a
+tea-gown, utterly astonished to see her.
+
+'My dear! you've come to dine with me after all?'
+
+'No, indeed. I've dined. You said I was to come in time to go to the
+play.'
+
+'The play? Oh! I forgot. I'm so sorry. I've sent the tickets away. I
+forgot I'd anyone to go with me. I'm afraid it can't be helped now. Are
+you very disappointed? Poor child. Well, dear, you'll dine with me,
+anyhow, as you've come, and I can tell you all about what we shall have
+to do, and everything. We'll go to the theatre some other evening.'
+
+Dulcie was obliged to decline eating two dinners. She had not found it
+possible to get through one--her last meal at Aylmer's house. However,
+as she had no idea what else to do, she remained with Lady Conroy. And
+she spent a very pleasant evening.
+
+Lady Conroy told her all about herself, her husband, her children and
+her friends. She told her the history of her life, occasionally
+branching off on to other subjects, and referring to the angel she had
+met on a boat who was in the Black Watch, and who, Dulcie gathered, was
+a wounded officer. Lady Conroy described all the dresses she had at
+present, many that she had had in former years, and others that she
+would like to have had now. She gravely told the girl the most
+inaccurate gossip about such of her friends as Dulcie might possibly
+meet later. She was confidential, amusing, brilliant and inconsequent.
+She appeared enchanted with Dulcie, whom she treated like an intimate
+friend at sight. And Dulcie was charmed with her, though somewhat
+confused at her curious memory. Indeed, they parted at about eleven the
+best possible friends; Lady Conroy insisting on sending her home in
+her car.
+
+Dulcie, who had a sensitive and sensible horror of snobbishness, felt
+sorry to know that her father would casually mention that his daughter
+was staying with the Conroys in Carlton House Terrace, and that her
+stepmother would scold her unless she recollected every dress she
+happened to see there. Still, on the whole she felt cheered.
+
+She had every reason to hope that she would be as happy as a companion,
+in love without hope of a return, could be under any circumstances.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+Madame Frabelle and Edith were sitting side by side in Edith's boudoir.
+Madame Frabelle was knitting. Edith was looking at a book. It was a thin
+little volume of essays, bound by Miss Coniston.
+
+'What is the meaning of this design?' Edith said. 'It seems to me very
+unsuited to Chesterton's work! Olive-green, with twirly things on it!'
+
+'I thought it rather artistic,' answered Madame Frabelle.
+
+'It looks like macaroni, or spaghetti. Perhaps the idea was suggested by
+your showing her how to cook it,' said Edith, laughing.
+
+Madame Frabelle looked gravely serene.
+
+'No--I don't think that had anything to do with it.'
+
+'How literal you are, Eglantine!'
+
+'Am I? I think you do me injustice, Edith dear,' returned the amiable
+guest with a tinge of stateliness as she rolled up her wool.
+
+Edith smiled, put down her book, looked at the clock and rearranged the
+large orange-coloured cushion behind her back. Then she took the book up
+again, looked through it and again put it down.
+
+'You're not at all--forgive me for saying so--not the least bit in the
+world restless today, Edith darling, are you?' said Madame Frabelle in a
+calm, clear, high voice that Edith found quite trying.
+
+'Oh, I hope not--I think not.'
+
+'Ah, that's well,' and Madame Frabelle, with one slight glance at her
+hostess, went on knitting.
+
+'I believe I miss Archie a good deal,' said Edith.
+
+'Ah, yes, you must indeed. I miss the dear boy immensely myself,'
+sympathetically said Madame Frabelle. But Edith thought Madame Frabelle
+bore his loss with a good deal of equanimity, and she owned to herself
+that it was not surprising. The lady had been very good to Archie, but
+he had teased her a good deal. Like the Boy Scouts, but the other way
+round, he had almost made a point of worrying her in some way or other
+every day. Edith could never persuade him to change his view of her.
+
+He said she was a fool.
+
+Somehow, today Edith felt rather pleased with him for thinking so. All
+women are subject to moods, particularly, perhaps, those who have a
+visitor staying with them for a considerable time. There are moments of
+injustice, of unfairness to the most charming feminine guest, from the
+most gentle hostess. And also there are, undoubtedly, times when the
+nicest hostess gets a little on one's nerves.
+
+So--critical, highly strung--Madame Frabelle was feeling today. So was
+Edith. Madame Frabelle was privately thinking that Edith was restless,
+that she had lost her repose, that her lips were redder than they used
+to be. Had she taken to using lip salve too? She was inclined to smile,
+with a twinkle in her eye, at Madame Frabelle's remarks, a shade too
+often. And what was Edith thinking of at this moment? She was thinking
+of Archie's remarks about Madame Frabelle. That boy had genius!
+
+But there would be a reaction, probably during, or immediately after,
+tea-time, for these two women were sincerely fond of one another. The
+irritating fact that Edith was eighteen years younger than her guest
+made Eglantine feel sometimes a desire to guide, even to direct her, and
+if she had the disadvantage in age she wanted at least the privilege of
+gratifying her longing to give advice.
+
+The desire became too strong to be resisted. The advantage of having
+something to do with her hands while she spoke was too great a one not
+to be taken advantage of. So Madame Frabelle said:
+
+'Edith dear.'
+
+'Yes?'
+
+'I've been wanting to say something to you.'
+
+Edith leant forward, putting her elbows on her knees and her face on her
+hands, and said:
+
+'Oh, _do_ tell me, Eglantine. What is it?'
+
+'It is simply this,' said the other lady, calmly continuing her
+knitting.... 'Very often when one's living with a person, one doesn't
+notice little things a comparative stranger would observe. Is that
+not so?'
+
+'What have you observed? What's it about?'
+
+'It is about your husband,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'What! Bruce?' asked Edith.
+
+'Naturally,' replied Madame Frabelle dryly.
+
+'What have you observed about Bruce?'
+
+'I have observed,' replied Madame Frabelle, putting her hand in the sock
+that she was knitting, and looking at it critically, her head on one
+side, 'I have observed that Bruce is not at all well.'
+
+'Oh, I'm sorry you think that. It's true he has seemed rather what he
+calls off colour lately.'
+
+'He suffers,' said Madame Frabelle, as if announcing a great discovery,'
+he suffers from Nerves.'
+
+'I know he does, my dear. Who should know it better than I do? But--do
+you think he is worse lately?'
+
+'I do. He is terribly depressed. He says things to me sometimes
+that--well, that really quite alarm me.'
+
+'I'm sorry. But you mustn't take Bruce too seriously, you know that.'
+
+'Indeed I don't take him too seriously! And I've done my best either to
+change the subject or to make him see the silver lining to every cloud,'
+Madame Frabelle answered solemnly, with a shake of her head.
+
+'I think what Bruce complains of is the want of a silver lining to his
+purse,' Edith said.
+
+'You are jesting, Edith dear.'
+
+'No, I'm not. He worries about money.'
+
+'But only incidentally,' said Madame Frabelle. 'Bruce is really worried
+about the war.'
+
+'Naturally. But surely--I suppose we all are.'
+
+'But Mr. Ottley takes it particularly to heart,' said Madame Frabelle,
+with a kind of touching dignity.
+
+Edith looked at her in a little surprise. Why did she suddenly call
+Bruce 'your husband' or 'Mr. Ottley'?
+
+'Why this distant manner, Eglantine?' said Edith, half laughing. 'I
+thought you always called him Bruce.'
+
+'I beg your pardon; yes, I forgot. Well, don't you see, Edith dear, that
+what we might call his depression, his melancholy point of view, is--is
+growing worse and worse?'
+
+Edith got up, walked to the other end of the room, rearranged some
+violets in a copper vase and came back to the sofa again. Madame
+Frabelle followed her with her eyes. Then Edith said, picking up
+the knitting:
+
+'Take care, dear, you're losing your wool. Yes; perhaps he is worse. He
+might be better if he occupied his mind more.'
+
+'He works at the Foreign Office from ten till four every day,' said
+Madame Frabelle in a tone of defence; 'he looks in at his club, where
+they talk over the news of the war, and then he comes home and we
+discuss it again.... Really, Edith, I scarcely see how much more he
+could do!'
+
+'Oh, my dear, but don't you see all the time he doesn't do
+anything?--anything about the war, I mean. Now both you and I do our
+little best to help, in one way or another. You especially, I'm sure, do
+a tremendous lot; but what does Bruce do? Nothing, except talk.'
+
+'That's just it, Edith. I doubt if your husband is in a fit state of
+health to strain his mind by any more work than he does already. He's
+not strong, dear; remember that.'
+
+'Of course, I know; if he were all right he wouldn't be here,' said
+Edith.' I suppose he really does suffer a great deal.'
+
+'What was it again that prevented him joining?' asked Madame Frabelle,
+with sympathetic tenderness.
+
+'Neurotic heart,' answered Edith. Though she tried her very utmost she
+could not help the tone of her voice sounding a little dry and ironical.
+Of course, she did not in the least believe in Bruce's neurotic heart,
+but she did not want Madame Frabelle to know that.
+
+'Ah! ah! that must cause him a great deal of pain, but I think so far
+his worst symptoms are his nervous fears. Look at last night,' continued
+Madame Frabelle, and now she put down her knitting and folded it into
+her work-basket.' Last night, because there was no moon, and it wasn't
+raining, and fairly clear, Mr Ott--Bruce had absolutely made up his mind
+there would be a Zeppelin raid. It was his own idea.'
+
+'Not quite, dear. Young Coniston, who is a special constable, rang up
+and told him that there was a chance of the Zeppelins last night.'
+
+'Well, perhaps so. At any rate he believed it. Well, instead of being
+satisfied when I told him that I had got out my mask, that I saw to the
+bath being left half-filled with water, helped your husband to put two
+large bags of sand outside his dressing-room--in spite of all that, do
+you know what happened in the middle of the night?'
+
+'I'm afraid I don't,' said Edith. 'Since Archie went back to school I
+have had Dilly in my room, and we both slept soundly all night.'
+
+'Did you? I fancied I saw a light in your room.'
+
+This was quite true. Edith was writing a very long letter.
+
+'Ah, perhaps.'
+
+'Well, at three o'clock in the morning, fancy my surprise to hear a
+knock at my door!'
+
+'I wonder I didn't hear a knock at mine,' said Edith.
+
+'Your husband was afraid to disturb the little girl. Most considerate, I
+thought. Well, he knocked at my door and said that he was unable to
+sleep, that he felt terribly miserable and melancholy, in fact was
+wretched, and that he felt on the point of cutting his throat.... Don't
+be frightened, dear. I don't mean that he really _meant_ it,' said
+Madame Frabelle, putting her hand on Edith's.
+
+'Poor fellow! But what a shame to disturb you.'
+
+'I didn't mind in the least. I was only too pleased. Well, what do you
+think I did? I got up and dressed, went down to the library and lighted
+the fire, and sat up for half-an-hour with your husband trying to
+cheer him up!'
+
+'Did you really?' Edith smiled. 'It was very sweet of you, Eglantine.'
+
+'Not at all; I was only too glad. I made a cup of tea, Bruce had a
+whisky and soda, we had a nice talk, and I sent him back quite cheerful.
+Still, it just shows, doesn't it, how terribly he takes it all?'
+
+'Rather hard on you, Eglantine; quite improper too,' laughed Edith as
+she rang the bell.
+
+Madame Frabelle ignored this remark.
+
+'If I could only feel at all that I've done a little good during my stay
+here, I shall be quite satisfied.'
+
+'Oh! but you mustn't dream yet of--' began Edith.
+
+There was a ring at the bell.
+
+'Why, here is Bruce, just in time for tea.'
+
+Edith went to meet him in the hall. Although he came in with his key, he
+invariably rang the bell, so that the maid could take his coat
+and stick.
+
+'Hallo, Edith,' he said, in a rather sober tone. 'How are you? And where
+is Madame Frabelle?'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+Bruce came in with a rather weary air, and sat down by the fire. Madame
+Frabelle was presiding at the tea-table.
+
+'How are you feeling, Bruce?' Edith asked.
+
+'Oh, pretty rotten. I had a very bad night. How are you, Madame
+Frabelle?'
+
+'Oh, very well. Tea?'
+
+'Poor Bruce!' said Edith kindly. 'Oh, and poor Madame Frabelle,' she
+added, with a smile.
+
+Bruce gave Madame Frabelle a slightly reproachful look as he took a cup
+of tea from her.
+
+'I've been telling Edith,' said that lady in a quiet, dignified way.
+
+'What about?'
+
+'About last night,' said Madame Frabelle, passing Bruce the buttered
+toast without looking at him, as if avoiding his glance.
+
+'I'm really very much ashamed of it,' said Bruce. 'You can't think how
+kind she was to me, Edith.'
+
+'I'm sure she was,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh, you won't have a bad night like that again,' said Madame Frabelle
+cheerily.
+
+'I'm sure I hope not.' He gave a dark, despairing look, and sighed.
+'Upon my word, if it hadn't been for her I don't know what I would have
+done.' He shook his head and stroked his back hair.
+
+Suddenly Edith felt intensely bored. Madame Frabelle and Bruce were
+looking at each other with such intense sympathy, and she knew they
+would repeat in different words what they had said already. They were so
+certain to go over the same ground again and again!... Edith felt she
+was not wanted. But that didn't annoy her. She was merely thinking of an
+excuse to get away from them.
+
+'By the way, how's Aylmer, Edith?' asked Bruce.
+
+'Getting on well. I believe he's been ordered out of town.'
+
+'To the seaside? For God's sake don't let him go to the east coast!'
+
+'The east coast is quite as safe as any other part of England, _I_
+think.' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Oh, he'll take his chance,' Edith replied.
+
+'I expect he'll miss _you_, my dear,' said Bruce. 'You've been so jolly
+good to him lately.'
+
+'Naturally,' said Madame Frabelle, a little quickly, very smoothly, and
+with what Edith thought unnecessary tact. 'Naturally. Anyone so
+kind-hearted as Edith would be sure to try and cheer up the convalescence
+of a wounded friend. Have a _foie-gras_ sandwich, Edith?'
+
+Edith felt an almost irresistible desire to laugh at something in the
+hospitable, almost patronising tone of her guest.
+
+'Oh, Edith likes going to see him,' said Bruce to Madame Frabelle. 'So
+do I, if it comes to that. We're all fond of old Aylmer, you know.'
+
+'I know. I quite understand. You're great friends. Personally, I think
+Mr Ross has behaved splendidly.' Madame Frabelle said this with an air
+of self-control and scrupulous justice.
+
+'You don't care very much about him, I fancy,' said Bruce with the air
+of having made a subtle discovery.
+
+She raised one eyebrow slightly. 'I won't say that. I see very excellent
+points in him. I admit there's a certain coldness, a certain hard
+reserve about his character that--Well, frankly, it doesn't appeal to
+me. But I hope I am fair to him. He's a man I respect.... Yes, I
+respect him.'
+
+'But he doesn't amuse you--what?' said Bruce.
+
+'The fact is, he has no sense of humour,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Fancy your finding that out now!' said Bruce, with a broad smile.
+'Funny! Ha ha! Very funny! Do you know, it never occurred to me! But now
+I come to think of it--yes, perhaps that's what's the matter with him.
+Mind you, I call him a jolly, cheery sort of chap. Quite an optimist--a
+distinct optimist. You never find Aylmer depressed.'
+
+'No, not depressed. It isn't that. But he hasn't got--You won't either
+of you be angry with me for what I say, will you?'
+
+'Oh no, indeed.'
+
+'You won't be cross with me, Edith? Perhaps I ought not to say it.'
+
+'Yes, do tell us,' urged Edith.
+
+'Well, what I consider is the defect in Aylmer Ross is that he has
+brains, but no temperament.'
+
+'Excellent!' cried Bruce. 'Perfectly true. Temperament! That's what he
+wants!'
+
+Edith remembered hearing that phrase used in her presence to Madame
+Frabelle--not about Aylmer, but about someone else. It was very
+characteristic of Madame Frabelle to catch up an idea or a phrase,
+misapply it, and then firmly regard it as her own.
+
+Bruce shook his head. 'Brains, but no temperament! Excellent!'
+
+'Mind you, that doesn't prevent him being an excellent soldier,' went on
+Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Oh dear, no. He's done jolly well,' said Bruce. 'I think I know what
+she means--don't you, Edith?'
+
+'I'm sure _she_ does,' said Edith, who had her doubts. 'I don't know
+that I do quite know what people mean when they say other people haven't
+got temperament. The question is--what _is_ temperament?'
+
+'Oh, my dear, it's a sort of--a something--an atmosphere--a sympathy.
+What I might call the magnetism of personality!'
+
+'That's right!' said Bruce, passing his cup for another cup of tea.
+'Aylmer's hard, hard as nails.'
+
+'Hasn't he got the name of being rather warm-hearted and impulsive,
+though?' suggested Edith.
+
+'Oh, he's good-natured enough,' said Bruce. 'Very generous. I've known
+him to do ever so many kind things and never let a soul except the
+fellow he'd helped know anything about it.'
+
+'You don't understand me,' said Madame Frabelle. 'I don't doubt that for
+a moment. He's a generous man, because he has a sense of duty and of the
+claims of others. But he has the effect on me--'
+
+'Go on, Eglantine.'
+
+'Frankly, he chills me,' said Madame Frabelle. 'When I went to see him
+with Edith, I felt more tired after a quarter of an hour's talk with him
+than I would--' She glanced at Bruce.
+
+'Than you would after hours with Landi, or Bruce, or Byrne Fraser, or
+young Coniston,' suggested Edith.
+
+'That's what I mean. He's difficult to talk to.'
+
+'I have no doubt you're right,' said Edith.
+
+'Well, she generally is,' said Bruce. 'The only thing is she's so
+infernally deep sometimes, she sees things in people that nobody else
+would suspect. Oh, you do, you know!'
+
+'Oh, do I?' said Madame Frabelle modestly.
+
+'Yes, I think you do,' said Edith, who by this time felt inclined to
+throw the tea-tray at her guest. The last fortnight Edith's nerves had
+certainly not been quite calm. Formerly she would have been amused at
+the stupidity of the conversation. Now she felt irritated, bored and
+worried, except when she was with Aylmer.
+
+There was a moment's silence. Bruce leant back and half shut his eyes.
+Madame Frabelle softly put a cushion behind his shoulder, putting a
+finger on her lip as she looked at Edith.
+
+Edith suddenly got up.
+
+'You won't think it horrid of me, Bruce? I've got to go out for a few
+minutes.'
+
+'Oh no, no, no!' said Bruce. 'Certainly not. Do go, my dear girl. You'll
+be back to dinner?'
+
+'Dinner? Of course. It isn't a quarter to six.'
+
+Her eyes were bright. She looked full of elasticity and spirit again.
+
+'I quite forgot,' she said, 'something that I promised to do for Mrs
+Mitchell. And she'll be disappointed if I don't.'
+
+'I know what it is,' said Madame Frabelle archly. 'It's about that
+Society for the Belgians,'--she lowered her voice--'I mean the
+children's _lingerie_!'
+
+'That's it,' said Edith gratefully. 'Well, I'll fly--and be back as soon
+as I can.'
+
+Bruce got up and opened the door for her.
+
+'For heaven's sake don't treat me with ceremony, my dear Edith,' said
+Madame Frabelle.
+
+She made a little sign, as much as to say that she would look after
+Bruce. But she was not very successful in expressing anything by a look
+or a gesture. Edith had no idea what she meant. However, she nodded in
+return, as if she fully comprehended, and then ran up to her room, put
+on her hat, and, too impatient to wait while the servant called a cab,
+walked as quickly as possible until she met one near the top of Sloane
+Street. It was already very dark.
+
+'Twenty-seven Jermyn Street,' said Edith as she jumped in.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later she was sitting next to Aylmer.
+
+'Only for a second; I felt I must see you.'
+
+'Fool! Angel!' said Aylmer, beaming, and kissing her hand.
+
+'Bruce is too irritating for words today. And Madame Frabelle makes me
+sick. I can't stand her. At least today.'
+
+'Oh, Edith, don't tell me you're jealous of the woman! I won't stand it!
+I shan't play.'
+
+'Good heavens, no! Not in the least. But her society's so tedious at
+times. She has such a pompous way of discovering the obvious.'
+
+'I do believe you object to her being in love with Bruce,' said Aylmer
+reproachfully. 'That's a thing I will _not_ stand.'
+
+'Indeed I don't. Besides, she's not. Who could be?... And don't be
+jealous of Bruce, Aylmer.... I know she's very motherly to him, and
+kind. But she's the same to everyone.'
+
+They talked on for a few minutes. Then Edith said:
+
+'Good-bye. I must go.'
+
+'Good-bye,' said Aylmer.
+
+'Oh! Are you going to let me go already?' she asked reproachfully.
+
+She leant over him. Some impulse seemed to draw her near to him.
+
+'You're using that Omar Khayyam scent again,' he said. 'I wish you
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Why? you said you liked it.'
+
+'I do like it. I like it too much.'
+
+She came nearer. Aylmer gently pushed her away.
+
+'How unkind you are!' she said, colouring a little with hurt feeling.
+
+'I can't do that sort of thing,' said Aylmer in a low voice. 'When once
+you've given me your promise--but not before.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer!'
+
+'I won't rush you. You'll see I'm right in time, dear girl.'
+
+'You don't love me!' suddenly exclaimed Edith.
+
+'But that's where you're wrong. I do love you. And I wish you'd go.'
+
+She looked into his eyes, and then said, looking away:
+
+'Are you really going out of town?'
+
+'I'm ordered to. But I doubt if I can stand it.'
+
+'Well, good-bye, Aylmer dear.'
+
+'Fiend! Are you going already? Cruel girl!'
+
+'Why you've just sent me away!'
+
+'I can stand talking to you, Edith. Talking, for hours. But I can't
+stand your being within a yard of me.'
+
+'Thank you so much,' she said, laughing, and arranging her hat in front
+of the mirror.
+
+He spoke in a lower voice:
+
+'How often must I tell you? You know perfectly well.'
+
+'What?'
+
+'I'm not that sort of man.'
+
+'What sort?'
+
+After a moment's pause he said:
+
+'I can't kiss people.'
+
+'I'm very glad you can't. I have no wish for you to kiss _people_.'
+
+'I can't kiss. I don't know how anyone can. I can't do those things.'
+
+She pretended not to hear, looked round the room, took up a book and
+said:
+
+'Will you lend me this, Aylmer?'
+
+'No, I'll give it you.'
+
+'Good-bye.'
+
+'Good-bye, darling,' said Aylmer, ringing the bell.
+
+The butler called her a cab, and she drove to Mrs Mitchell's.
+
+When she got to the door she left a message with the footman to say she
+hadn't been able to see about that matter for Mrs Mitchell yet, but
+would do it tomorrow.
+
+Just as she was speaking Mr Mitchell came up to the door.
+
+'Hallo, hallo, hallo!' he cried in his cheery, booming voice.
+
+'Hallo, Edith! How's Bruce?'
+
+'Why, you ought to know. He's been with you today,' said Edith.
+
+'He seems a bit off colour at the Foreign Office. Won't you all three
+come and dine with us tomorrow? No party. I'm going to ring up and get
+Aylmer. It won't hurt him to dine quietly with us.'
+
+'We shall be delighted,' said Edith.
+
+Mr Mitchell didn't like to see her go, but as he was longing to tell his
+wife a hundred things that interested them both, he waved his hand to
+her, saying:
+
+'Good-bye. The war will be over in six months. Mark my words! And then
+won't we have a good time!'
+
+'Dear Mr Mitchell!' said Edith to herself as she drove back home in the
+dark.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+Landi was growing rather anxious about his favourite, for it was quite
+obvious to him that she was daily becoming more and more under the
+spell. Curious that the first time she should have found the courage to
+refuse, and that now, after three years' absence and with nothing to
+complain of particularly on the subject of her husband, she should now
+be so carried away by this love.
+
+She had developed, no doubt. She was touched also, deeply moved at the
+long fidelity Aylmer had shown. He was now no longer an impulsive
+admirer, but a devotee. Even that, however, would not have induced her
+to think of making such a break in her life if it hadn't been for the
+war. Yes, Sir Tito put it all down to the war. It had an exciting,
+thrilling effect on people. It made them reckless. When a woman knows
+that the man she loves has risked his life, and is only too anxious to
+risk it again--well, it's natural that she should feel she is also
+willing to risk something. Valour has always been rewarded by beauty.
+And then her great sense of responsibility, her conscientiousness about
+Bruce--no wonder that had been undermined by his own weak conduct. How
+could Edith help feeling a slight contempt for a husband who not only
+wouldn't take any chances while he was still within the age, but
+positively imagined himself ill. True, Bruce had always been a _malade
+imaginaire_; like many others with the same weakness, his
+valetudinarianism had been terribly increased by the anxiety and worry
+of the war. But there was not much sympathy about for it just now. While
+so much real suffering was going on, imaginary ills were ignored,
+despised or forgotten.
+
+Bruce hated the war; but he didn't hate it for the sake of other people
+so much as for his own. The interest that the world took in it
+positively bored him--absurd as it seems to say so, Edith was convinced
+that he was positively jealous of the general interest in it! He had
+great fear of losing his money, a great terror of Zeppelins; he gave way
+to his nerves instead of trying to control them. Edith knew his greatest
+wish would have been, had it been possible, to get right away from
+everything and go and live in Spain or America, or somewhere where he
+could hear no more about the war. Such a point of view might be
+understood in the case, say, of a great poet, a great artist, a man of
+genius, without any feeling of patriotism, or even a man beyond the age;
+but Bruce--he was the most ordinary and average of human beings, the
+most commonplace Englishman of thirty-seven who had ever been born; that
+Bruce should feel like that did seem to Edith a little--contemptible;
+yet she was sorry for him, she knew he really suffered from insomnia and
+nerves, though he looked a fine man and had always been regarded as a
+fair sportsman. He had been fair at football and cricket, and could row
+a bit, and was an enthusiastic golfist; still, Edith knew he would never
+have made a soldier. Bruce wanted to be wrapped up in cotton wool,
+petted, humoured, looked up to and generally spoilt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But what Sir Tito felt most was the thought of his favourite, who had
+forgiven her husband that escapade three years ago, now appearing in an
+unfavourable light. She had been absolutely faithful to Bruce in every
+way, under many temptations, and he knew she was still absolutely
+faithful. Aylmer and Edith were neither of them the people for secret
+meetings, for deception. It was not in her to _tromper_ her husband
+while pretending to be a devoted wife, and it was equally unlike Aylmer
+to be a false friend.
+
+Landi was too much of a man of the world to have been particularly
+shocked, even if he had known they had both deceived Bruce. Privately,
+for Edith's own sake he almost wished they had. He hated scandal to
+touch her; he thought she would feel it more than she supposed. But,
+after all, he reflected, had they begun in that way it would have been
+sure to end in an elopement, with a man of Aylmer's spirit and
+determination. Aylmer, besides, was far too exclusive in his affections,
+far too jealous, ever to be able to endure to see Edith under Bruce's
+thumb, ordered about, trying to please him; and indeed Landi was most
+anxious that they should not be alone too much, in case, now that Edith
+cared for him so much, his feelings would carry him away.... Yes, if it
+once went too far the elopement was a certainty.
+
+Would the world blame her so very much? That Bruce would let her take
+the children Landi had no doubt. He would never stand the bother of
+them; he wouldn't desire the responsibility; his pride might be a little
+hurt, but on the whole Sir Tito shrewdly suspected, as did Edith
+herself, that there would be a certain feeling of relief. Bruce had
+become such an egotist that, though he would miss Edith's devotion, he
+wouldn't grudge her the care of the children. Aylmer had pledged her his
+faith, his whole future; undoubtedly he would marry her and take the
+children as his own; still, Edith would bear the brunt before the world.
+
+This Sir Tito did not fancy at all, and instinctively he began to watch
+Bruce. He felt very doubtful of him. The man who had flirted with the
+governess, who had eloped with the art student--was it at all likely
+that he was utterly faithful to Edith now? It was most unlikely. And
+Edith's old friend hoped that things would be adjusted in fairness
+to her.
+
+He knew she would be happy with Aylmer. Why should she not at
+thirty-five begin a new life with the man she really cared for--a
+splendid fellow, a man with a fine character, with all his faults, who
+felt the claims of others, who had brains, pluck, and a sense of honour?
+
+But Aylmer was going out again to the front. Until he returned again,
+nothing should be done. They should be patient.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Dulcie had now been settled down with Lady Conroy for about a week. She
+found her luxurious life at Carlton House Terrace far more congenial
+than she had expected. Her own orderly ways were obviously a great
+comfort to her employer, and though Lady Conroy turned everything to
+chaos as soon as Dulcie had put it straight, still she certainly had a
+good effect on things in general. She had a charming sitting-room to
+herself, and though she sometimes sighed for the little Chippendale room
+with the chintzes, at Jermyn Street, she was on the whole very
+contented. Lady Conroy was a delightful companion. She seldom pressed
+Dulcie to come down to meals when there were guests. Occasionally she
+did so, but so far the only person Dulcie had met more than once was
+Valdez, the handsome composer, who was trying so hard, with the help of
+Lady Conroy and his War Emergency Concerts, to assist such poor
+musicians as were suffering from the war, and at the same time to assert
+the value of British music.
+
+Dulcie had been immensely struck by the commanding appearance and manner
+of Valdez, known everywhere as a singer, a writer of operas and a
+favourite of foreign royalties.
+
+Landi she had often met at Aylmer's, but, privately, she was far more
+impressed by Valdez; first, he was English, though, like herself, of
+Spanish descent, and then he had none of the _mechancete_ and teasing
+wit that made her uncomfortable with Landi. He treated her with
+particularly marked courtesy, and he admired her voice, for Lady Conroy
+had good-naturedly insisted on her singing to him. He had even offered,
+when he had more time, to give her a few lessons. Lady Conroy told her a
+hundred interesting stories about him and Dulcie found a tinge of
+romance about him that helped to give piquancy to her present life.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was very much afraid of Lord Conroy, though he didn't appear to
+notice her. In his own way he was as absent-minded as his wife, to whom
+he was devoted, but whose existence was entirely independent of his.
+
+Lord Conroy had his own library, his own secretary, his own suite of
+rooms, his own motor, he didn't even tell his wife when he intended to
+dine out, and if he occasionally spoke to her of the strained political
+situation which now absorbed him, it certainly wasn't when Dulcie was
+there. With his grey beard and dark, eyebrows, and absent, distinguished
+manner, he was exactly what Dulcie would have dreamed of as an ideal
+Cabinet Minister. He evidently regarded his wife, despite her
+thirty-eight years and plumpness, almost as a child, giving her complete
+freedom to pursue her own devices, admiring her appearance, and smiling
+at her lively and inconsequent conversation; he didn't seem to take her
+seriously. Dulcie was particularly struck by the fact that they each had
+their own completely distinct circle of friends, and except when they
+gave a party or a large dinner these friends hardly met, and certainly
+didn't clash.
+
+As everyone in the house had breakfasts independently, and as Dulcie
+didn't even dine downstairs unless Lady Conroy was alone, she saw very
+little of the man whom she knew to be a political celebrity, and whose
+name was on almost everybody's lips just now. She heard from his wife
+that he was worried and anxious, and hoped the war wouldn't last
+much longer.
+
+There were no less than seven children, from the age of twelve
+downwards. Two of these lived in the schoolroom with the governess, one
+boy was at school, and the rest lived in the nursery with the nurse. One
+might say there were five different sets of people living different
+lives in different rooms, in this enormous house. Sometimes Dulcie
+thought it was hardly quite her idea of home life, a thing Lady Conroy
+talked of continually with great sentiment and enthusiasm, but it was
+pleasant enough. Since she was here to remember engagements and dates
+everything seemed to go on wheels.
+
+One day, feeling very contented and in good spirits, she had gone to see
+her father with an impulse to tell him how well she was getting on.
+Directly the door was opened by the untidy servant Dulcie felt that
+something had happened, that some blow had fallen. Everything looked
+different. She found her father in his den surrounded by papers, his
+appearance and manner so altered that the first thing she said was:
+
+'Oh, papa! what's the matter?'
+
+Her father looked up. At his expression she flew to him and threw her
+arms round him. Then, of course, he broke down. Strange that with all
+women and most men it is only genuine sympathy that makes them give way.
+With a cool man of the world, or with a hard, cold, heartless daughter
+who had reproached him, Mr Clay would have been as casual as an
+undergraduate.
+
+At her sweetness he lost his self-control, and then he told her
+everything.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a short, commonplace, second-rate story, quite trivial and
+middle-class, and _how_ tragic! He had gambled, played cards, lost, then
+fallen back on the resource of the ill-judged and independent-minded--gone
+to the professional lenders. Mr Clay was not the sort of man who would
+ever become a sponge, a nuisance to friends. He was far too proud, and
+though he had often helped other people, he had never yet asked for help.
+In a word, the poor little house was practically in ruins, or rather, as
+he explained frankly enough (giving all details), unless he could get
+eighty pounds by the next morning his furniture would be sold and he and
+his wife would be turned out. Mr Clay had a great horror of a smash. He
+was imprudent, even reckless, but had the sense of honour that would cause
+him to suffer acutely, as Dulcie knew. Of course she offered to help;
+surely since she had three hundred a year of her own she could do
+something, and he had about the same....The father explained that he had
+already sold his income in advance. And her own legacy had been left so
+that she was barred from anticipation. Dulcie, who was practical enough,
+saw that her own tiny income was absolutely all that the three would have
+to live on until her father got something else, and that bankruptcy was
+inevitable unless she could get him eighty pounds in a day.
+
+'It's so little,' he said pathetically, 'and just to think that if Blue
+Boy hadn't been scratched I should have been bound to--Well, well, I
+know. I'm not going to bet any more.'
+
+She made him promise to buck up, she would consult her friends.... Lady
+Conroy would perhaps be angelic and advance her her salary. (Of course
+she loathed the idea when she had been there only a week of being a
+nuisance and--But she must try.) It was worth anything to see her father
+brighten up. He told her to go and see her stepmother.
+
+Mrs. Clay received her with the tenderest expressions and poured out her
+despairs and her troubles; she also confided in Dulcie that she had some
+debts that her husband knew nothing of and must _never_ know. If only
+Dulcie could manage to get her thirty pounds--surely it would be easy
+enough with all her rich friends!--it would save her life. Dulcie
+promised to try, but begged her not to bother so much about dress
+in future.
+
+'Of course I won't, darling! You're a pet and an angel. _Darling_
+Dulcie! The truth is I adore your father. And he always told me that he
+fell in love with me because I looked so smart! I was so terrified of
+losing his affection by getting dowdy, don't you see? Besides, he
+doesn't take the slightest notice what I wear, he never knows what I've
+got on! Always betting or absorbed in the Racing Intelligence; it's
+really dreadful.'
+
+Dulcie promised anything, at least to do her best, if only Mrs Clay
+would be kind, sweet to her father.
+
+'Don't scold him, don't reproach him,' she begged. 'I'm sure he'll be
+terribly ill unless you're very patient and sweet to him. And I promise
+he shall never know about your debts.'
+
+Mrs Clay looked at her in wonder and gratitude. The real reason Dulcie
+took on herself the wife's separate troubles and resolved to keep them
+from her father was that she felt sure that if he reproached his wife
+she would retort and then there would be a miserable state of feud in
+the house, where at least there had been peace and affection till now.
+Dulcie couldn't endure the idea of her father being made unhappy, and
+she thought that by making her stepmother under an obligation to her,
+she would have a sort of hold or influence and could make her behave
+well and kindly to her husband. Dulcie hadn't the slightest idea how she
+was going to do it, but she would.
+
+She never even thought twice about giving up her income to her father.
+She was only too delighted to be able to do it. And she believed that
+his pride and sense of honour might really even make him stop gambling.
+And then there was some chance of happiness for the couple again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie had really undertaken more of a sacrifice for her stepmother,
+whom she rather disliked, than for her father, whom she adored, but it
+was for his sake. She left them cheered, grateful, and relying on her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she got home to her charming room at Carlton House Terrace she sat
+down, put her head in her hands and began to think. She had undertaken
+to get a hundred and ten pounds in two days.
+
+How was she to do it? Of course she knew that Aylmer Ross would be able
+and willing, indeed enchanted, to come to the rescue. He was always
+telling her that she had saved his life.
+
+She would like to get his sympathy and interest, to remind him of her
+existence.
+
+But she was far too much in love with him still to endure the thought of
+a request for money--that cold douche on friendship! She would rather go
+to anyone in the world than Aylmer.
+
+What about Edith Ottley? Edith had been kindness itself to her; it was
+entirely through Edith that she had this position as secretary and
+companion at a salary of a hundred a year which now would mean so
+much to her.
+
+She admired Edith more than any woman she knew; she thought her lovely,
+elegant, clever, fascinating and kindness itself. Yet she would dislike
+to ask Edith even more than Aylmer. The reason was obvious. Edith was
+her rival. Of course it was not her fault. She had not taken Aylmer away
+from her, she was his old friend, but the fact remained that her idol
+was in love with Edith. And Dulcie was so constituted that she could ask
+neither of them a favour to save her life.
+
+Lady Conroy then.... But how awkward, how disagreeable, how painful to
+her pride when she had been there only a week and Lady Conroy treated
+her almost like a sister!... There was a knock at the door.
+
+'Come in!' said Dulcie, surprised. No-one ever came to her little
+sitting-room at this hour, about half-past five. Who could it be? To her
+utter astonishment and confusion the servant announced Mr Valdez.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was sitting on the sofa, still in her hat and coat, her eyes red
+with crying, for she had utterly given way when she got home. She was
+amazed and confused at seeing the composer, who came calmly in, holding
+a piece of music in his hand.
+
+'Good morning, Miss Clay. Please forgive me. I hope I'm not troubling
+you? They told me Lady Conroy was out but that you were at home and up
+here; and I hoped--' He glanced at the highly decorated little piano.
+This room had been known as the music-room before it was given
+to Dulcie.
+
+'Oh, not at all,' she said in confusion, looking up and regretting her
+crimson and swollen eyes and generally unprepared appearance.
+
+He immediately came close to her, sat down on a chair opposite her sofa,
+leant forward and said abruptly, in a tone of warm sympathy:
+
+'You are distressed. What is it, my child? I came up to ask you to play
+over this song. But I shall certainly not go now till you've told me
+what's the matter.'
+
+'Oh, I can't,' said Dulcie, breaking down.
+
+He insisted:
+
+'You can. You shall. I'm sure I can help you. Go on.'
+
+Whether it was his personality which always had a magnetism for her, or
+the reaction of the shock she had had, Dulcie actually told him every
+word, wondering at herself. He listened, and then said cooly:
+
+'My dear child, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. People
+mustn't worry about trifles. Just before the war I won a lot of money at
+Monte Carlo. I simply don't know what to do with it. Stop!' he said, as
+she began to speak. 'You want a hundred and ten pounds. You shall have
+it in half-an-hour. I shall go straight back to Claridge's in a taxi,
+write a cheque, get it changed--for you won't know what to do with a
+cheque, or at any rate it would give you more trouble--and send you the
+money straight back by my servant or my secretary in a taxi.' He stood
+up. 'Not another word, my dear Miss Clay. Don't attach so much
+importance to money. It would be a bore for you to have to bother Lady
+Conroy. I understand. Don't imagine you're under any obligation; you can
+pay it me back just whenever you like and I shall give it to the War
+Emergency Concerts.... Now, _please_, don't be grateful. Aren't
+we friends?'
+
+'You're too kind,' she answered.
+
+He hurried to the door.
+
+'When my secretary comes back she will ask to see you. If anyone knows
+you have a visitor say I sent you the music or tickets for the concert.
+Good-bye. Cheer up now!'
+
+In an hour from the time Valdez had come in to see her, father and
+stepmother had each received the money. The situation was saved.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie marvelled at the action and the manner in which it was done. But
+none who knew Valdez well would have been in the least surprised. He was
+the most generous of men, and particularly he could not bear to see a
+pretty girl in sincere distress through no fault of her own. It was
+Dulcie's simple sincerity that pleased him. He came across very little
+of it in his own world. That world was brilliant, distinguished,
+sometimes artistic, sometimes merely _mondain_. But it was seldom
+sincere. He liked that quality best of all. He certainly was gifted with
+it himself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From this time, though Valdez still encouraged Dulcie to sing and
+occasionally accompanied her, the slight tinge of flirtation vanished
+from his manner. She felt he was only a friend. Did she ever regret it?
+Perhaps, a little.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+'Bruce, said Edith, 'I've just had a letter from Aylmer, from
+Eastcliff.'
+
+'Oh yes,' said Bruce. 'Got him off to the seaside at last, did they?'
+
+It was a Sunday afternoon. Bruce was sitting in a melancholy attitude on
+a sofa in Edith's boudoir; he held _The Weekly Dispatch_ in his hand,
+and was shaking his head over a pessimistic article when his wife
+came in.
+
+Bruce was always depressed now, and if he felt a little more cheerful
+for a moment he seemed to try and conceal it. No doubt his melancholy
+was real enough, but it was also partly a pose and a profession. Having
+undertaken to be depressed, he seemed to think it wrong to show a gleam
+of brightness. Besides, on Sundays Madame Frabelle usually listened to
+him; and this afternoon she had gone, unaccompanied, to hear the Rev.
+Byrne Fraser preach. Bruce felt injured.
+
+He had grown to feel quite lost without her.
+
+'He's very dull there,' said Edith.
+
+'I dare say he is,' he answered. 'I'm sure _I_ should feel half inclined
+to cut my throat if I were alone, with a game leg, at a place like that.
+Besides, they've had the Zepps there already once. Just the place for
+them to come again.'
+
+'He's very bored. But he's much better, and he's going back to the front
+in a fortnight.'
+
+'In a fortnight! Good heavens! Pretty sharp work.'
+
+'It is, indeed. He's counting the hours till he can get off.'
+
+Bruce, sighing, lighted his cigarette.
+
+'I wondered if you'd mind, Bruce, if I went down for the day to see
+him?'
+
+'Mind! Oh _dear_, no! Of course, go. I think it's your duty, poor old
+chap. I wondered you didn't run down for the weekend.'
+
+'I didn't like to do that,' she said.
+
+'Why on earth not?' said Bruce. 'Hard luck for a poor chap with no-one
+to speak to. Going back again; so soon too.'
+
+'Well, if you don't mind I _might_ go down tomorrow for a couple of
+days, and take Dilly.'
+
+'Do,' said Bruce eagerly; 'do the kid good.'
+
+Edith looked at him closely.
+
+'Wouldn't you miss her, now that Archie's at school too? Wouldn't the
+house seem very quiet?'
+
+'Not a bit!' exclaimed Bruce with emphatic sincerity. 'Not the least bit
+in the world! At least, of course, the house _would_ seem quiet, but
+that's just what I like. I _long_ for quiet--yearn for it. You don't
+half understand my condition of health, Edith. The quieter I am, the
+less worried, the better. Of course, take Dilly. _Rather_! I'd _like_
+you to go!'
+
+'All right. I'll go tomorrow morning till Tuesday or Wednesday. But
+wouldn't it seem the least bit rude to Madame Frabelle? She talks of
+going away soon, you know.'
+
+'Oh, she won't mind,' said Bruce decidedly. 'I shouldn't bother about
+her. We never treat her with ceremony.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When, a little bit later, Madame Frabelle came in (with a slight perfume
+of incense about her, and very full of a splendidly depressing sermon
+she had heard), she heartily agreed with Bruce. They both persuaded
+Edith to run down on the Monday and stay till Wednesday evening
+at least.
+
+'Perhaps we shall never meet again,' said Bruce pleasantly, as Edith,
+Dilly and the nurse were starting; 'either the Zeppelins may come while
+you're away, or they may set your hotel at Eastcliff on fire. Just the
+place for them.'
+
+'Well, if you want me you've only to telephone, and I can be back in a
+little more than an hour.'
+
+Madame Frabelle accompanied Edith to the station. She said to her on the
+way:
+
+'Do you know, Edith, I'm half expecting a telegram which may take me
+away. I have a relative who is anxious for me to go and stay with her,
+an aunt. But even if I did go, perhaps you'd let me come back to
+you after?'
+
+Edith assented. Somehow she did not much believe either in the telegram
+nor the relative. She thought that her friend talked like that so as to
+give the impression that she was not a fixture; that she was much sought
+after and had many friends, one or two of whom might insist on her
+leaving the Ottleys soon.
+
+Aylmer was at the little Eastcliff station to meet them. Except that he
+walked with the help of a stick, he seemed well, and having put Dilly,
+the nurse and the luggage in a cab, he proposed to Edith to walk to
+the hotel.
+
+'This _was_ angelic of you, Edith. How jolly the child looks!--like a
+live doll.'
+
+'You didn't mind my bringing her?'
+
+'Why, I'm devoted to her. But, you know, I hope it wasn't done for any
+conventional reasons. Headley and I are in the Annexe, nearly
+half-a-mile from you.'
+
+'I know,' said Edith.
+
+'And when you see the people here, my dear, nobody on earth that counts
+or matters!--people whom you've never seen before and never will again.
+But I've been counting the minutes till you came. It really isn't a bad
+little hole.'
+
+He took her down to a winding path covered in under trees, which led to
+the sea by steps cut in the rock. They sat down on a bench. The sea air
+was fresh and soothing.
+
+'This is where I sit and read--and think about you. Well, Edith, are you
+going to put me out of my suspense? How much longer am I to suffer? Let
+me look at you.'
+
+She looked up at him. He smiled at what he saw.
+
+'It'll be rather jolly to have two days or so here all to ourselves,' he
+said, 'but it will be far from jolly unless you give me that promise.'
+
+'But doesn't the promise refer to after you come back again?' she said
+in a low voice.
+
+'I don't ask you to come away until I'm back again. But I want you to
+promise before that you will.'
+
+Nothing more was said on the subject at the time, but after dinner, when
+Dilly had been put to bed, it was so warm that they could come out
+again, and then she said:
+
+'Aylmer, don't worry yourself any more. I mean to do it.'
+
+'You do!'
+
+He looked at her ecstatically.
+
+'Oh, Edith! I'm too happy! Do you quite realise, dear, what it is?...
+I've been waiting for you for four years. Ever since that night I met
+you at the Mitchells'. Do you know that before the war, when I came into
+that money, I was wild with rage. It seemed so wasted on me. I had no
+use for it then. And when I first met you I used to long for it. I hated
+being hard up.... The first time I had a gleam of hope was when they
+told me I'd got over the operation all right. I couldn't believe my life
+would be spared, for nothing. And now--you won't change your
+mind again?'
+
+Edith convinced him that she would not. They sat hand in hand, perhaps
+as near perfect happiness as two human beings can be....
+
+'We shall never be happier than we are now,' said Edith in a low voice.
+
+'Oh, shan't we?' he said. 'Rubbish! Rot! What about our life when I come
+back again?--every dream realised!'
+
+'And yet your going to risk it,' said Edith.
+
+'Naturally; that's nothing. I shall come back like a bad penny, don't
+you worry. Edith, say you mean it, _again_.'
+
+'Say I mean what?'
+
+'Say you love me, you'll marry me. You and the children will belong to
+me. You won't have any regrets? Swear you won't have any regrets
+and remorse!'
+
+'I never will. You know, Aylmer, I am like that. Most women know what
+they want till they've got it, and then they want something else! But
+when I get what I want I don't regret it.'
+
+'I know, my darling sensible angel!... Edith, to think this might have
+happened three years ago!'
+
+'But then I _would_ have had regrets.'
+
+'You only thought so,' he answered. 'I should have made you forget them
+very soon! Don't you feel, my dear, that we're made for each other?
+I know it.'
+
+'Aylmer, how shall I be able to bear your going out again? It will be
+like a horrible nightmare. And perhaps all we've both gone through may
+be for nothing!'
+
+'No, now I've got your promise everything will be all right.... I feel I
+shall come back all right.... Look here, darling, you need not be
+unhappy with Bruce. We're not going to deceive him. And when I come
+back, we'll tell him. Not till then. There is really no need.'
+
+They walked together to the Annexe, which was entered by a small flight
+of stone steps from the garden. Here Aylmer had a little suite of rooms.
+Edith went into the sitting-room with him and looked round.
+
+'It's ten o'clock and you're here for your health! Call Headley and go
+to bed, there's a good boy.'
+
+He held both her hands.
+
+'I mustn't ask you to stay.'
+
+'_Aylmer_! With Dilly here! And Bruce let me come down to look after
+you! He was quite nice about it.'
+
+'All right, dear, all right.... I know. No. I'm looking forward to when
+I come back.... Go, dear, go.'
+
+Edith walked very slowly down the steps again. He followed her back into
+the garden.
+
+'And suppose--you didn't come back,' she said in a very low voice.
+
+Aylmer glanced round: there was no-one in the garden.
+
+'I'm on my honour here,' he said. 'Go, dear, go. Go in to Dilly.' He
+gave her a little push.
+
+'One kiss,' said Edith.
+
+He smiled.
+
+'Darling girl, I've told you before that's a thing I can't do. I really
+oughtn't to be alone with you at all until we're quite free....'
+
+'But I feel we're engaged,' said Edith simply. 'Is it wrong to kiss your
+fiancee?'
+
+'Engaged? Of course we're engaged. Wrong? Of course it's not wrong! Only...
+I _can't_! Haven't got the self-command.... I do believe you're made
+of ice, Edith--I've often thought so.'
+
+'Yes,' said Edith, 'I dare say you're right.'
+
+Aylmer laughed.
+
+'Nonsense! Good night, my darling--don't catch cold. And, Edith.'
+
+'Yes, Aylmer?'
+
+'I'll meet you here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.'
+
+'Yes, Aylmer.'
+
+'Then you'd better go back in the afternoon. It won't do for you to stay
+another night here. Oh, Edith, how happy we _shall_ be!'
+
+He watched her as she walked across the garden and went into the hotel
+at the front door. Then he went indoors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day Edith, Dilly and the nurse went back to London early in the
+afternoon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+Edith, during the short journey home, sat with a smile on her lips,
+thinking of a little scene she had seen before leaving Eastcliff from
+the hall, known as the lounge, of the hotel. She had watched Dilly,
+beaming with joy, playing with a particularly large air-ball, bright
+rose colour, that Aylmer had bought her from a well-known character of
+the place, a very old woman, who made her living by the sale of these
+old-fashioned balloons. Dilly was enchanted with it. She had said to
+Aylmer when the old woman passed with a quantity of them. 'They look
+like flowers; they ought to have a pretty scent,' which amused him
+immensely. As she held it in her hand, pressing it with her tiny finger,
+a tragedy happened. The air-ball burst. Edith could hardly help laughing
+at seeing Dilly's expression. It was despair--gradual horror--shock, her
+first disillusion! Then as tears were welling up in the large blue
+eyes--she was saying: 'Oh, it's dead!'--Edith saw Aylmer snatch the
+collapsed wreck from the child's hand and run as fast as he could (which
+was not very fast, and only when leaning on a stick) after the old
+woman.... He caught her as she turned the corner, brought back a pink
+and a blue air-ball and gave them to Dilly, one for each hand. The child
+beamed again, happier than at first, threw her arms round his neck and
+kissed him. How touched and delighted Edith was! Would Bruce _ever_ have
+done such a thing? Aylmer had so thoroughly appreciated the little drama
+of joy, disillusion and consolation shown in the expression in Dilly's
+lovely little face. Had anything been wanting to Edith's resolution this
+small incident would have decided it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When they arrived home, a day sooner than they were expected, the
+servant told Edith at the door that Madame Frabelle had gone away.
+
+'Gone without seeing me?'
+
+'Yes, madam. A telegram came for her and she left last night. Here is a
+letter for you, madam.'
+
+Edith ran into the dining-room and tore it open.
+
+'MY DEAREST EDITH (it said),
+
+'To my great regret a wire I half expected came, and I was compelled to
+leave before your return, to join my relative, who is ill. I can't tell
+you how sorry I am not to say good-bye and thank you for your dear kind
+hospitality. But I'll write again, a long letter. I hope also to see you
+later. I will give you my address next time.
+
+'May I say one word? I can't say half enough of my gratitude for your
+kindness and friendship, but, apart from that, may I mention that I
+fear your husband _is very unwell indeed_, his nerves are in a terrible
+state, and I think his condition is more serious than you suppose. He
+should be humoured in everything, not worried, and allowed to do
+whatever he likes. Don't oppose any of his wishes, dear. I say this for
+your and his own good. Don't be angry with him or anybody. Never think
+me wanting in gratitude and friendship.
+
+'Truly, I am still your affectionate friend,
+
+'EGLANTINE.'
+
+What a strange letter. How like her to lay down the law about Bruce! It
+irritated Edith a little, also it made the future seem harder.
+
+About four o'clock Landi called unexpectedly. He always came just when
+Edith wanted him most, and now she confided in him and told him of her
+promise to Aylmer.
+
+He approved of their resolution to wait till Aylmer returned from the
+front and to have nothing on their conscience before. He was indeed much
+relieved at the postponement.
+
+'And how is the Spanish girl?' he asked. 'How does she get on with Lady
+Conroy?'
+
+'Oh, all right. She's not Spanish at all. She had rather a blow last
+week, poor girl. Her father nearly went bankrupt; she was quite in
+despair. It seems your friend Valdez came to the rescue in the most
+generous way, and she's immensely grateful.'
+
+'He helped her, did he?' said Landi, smiling.
+
+'He seems to have behaved most generously and charmingly. Do you think
+he is in love with her, Landi?'
+
+'Very likely he will be now.'
+
+'And she--she adores Aylmer. Will she fall in love with Valdez out of
+gratitude?'
+
+'C'est probable. C'est a esperer.... Enfin-mais toi, mon enfant?'
+
+'And where is Madame Frabelle?' asked Landi.
+
+Edith looked at the postmark.
+
+'Apparently she's at Liverpool, of all places; but she may be going
+somewhere else. I haven't got her address. She says she'll write.'
+
+'C'est ca.... When does Aylmer return to the front?'
+
+'He goes before the Board tomorrow and will know then.'
+
+That evening, when Bruce came in, Edith was struck by his paleness and
+depression; and she began to think Madame Frabelle was right; he must be
+really ill. Then, if he was, could she, later, be so cruel as to leave
+him? She was in doubt again....
+
+'Very bad news in the evening papers,' he said.
+
+'Is it so bad?'
+
+'Edith,' said Bruce, rather solemnly, without listening, 'I want to
+speak to you after dinner. I have something serious to say to you'.
+
+'Really?'
+
+'Yes, really.'
+
+Edith wondered. Could Bruce suspect anything? But apparently he didn't,
+since he spoke in a very friendly way of Aylmer, saying that he hoped he
+wouldn't stop away long....
+
+The dinner passed in trivial conversation. She described Eastcliff, the
+hotel, the people. Bruce appeared absent-minded. After dinner she went
+to join him in the library, where he was smoking, and said:
+
+'Well, Bruce, what is it you have to say to me?'
+
+'Good heavens,' said Bruce, looking at his writing-desk, 'if I've spoken
+of this once I've spoken of it forty times! The inkstand is too full!'
+
+'Oh! I'm so dreadfully sorry,' said Edith, feeling the strangeness of
+Bruce's want of sense of proportion. He had, as it seemed, to speak to
+her about some important matter. Yet the inkstand being too full
+attracted his attention, roused his anger! She remembered he had said
+these very words the day he came back from his elopement with the
+art student.
+
+Edith looked round the room, while Bruce smoked. And so she had really
+made up her mind! She _meant_ to leave him! Not that she intended to see
+Aylmer again now, except once, perhaps, to say good-bye.
+
+But still, she really intended to change her whole life when he returned
+again. She felt rather conscience-stricken, but was glad when she looked
+at Bruce that there had never been anything as yet but Platonic
+affection between her and Aylmer, which she could have no cause to blush
+for before Bruce. And how grateful she felt to Aylmer for his wonderful
+self-control. Thanks to that, she could look Bruce in the face.... Bruce
+was speaking.
+
+'Edith,' he said with some agitation, 'I wish to tell you something.'
+
+She saw he looked pale and nervous.
+
+'What is it, Bruce?' she asked kindly.
+
+'It's this,' he said in a somewhat pompous tone, 'I am in a very strange
+condition of health. I find I can no longer endure to live in London; I
+must get away from the war. The doctor says so. If I'm to keep sane, if
+I'm not to commit suicide, I must give up this domestic life.' She
+stared at him. 'Yes, I'm sorry, I've tried to endure it,' he went on. 'I
+can't stand the responsibility, the anxiety of the children and
+everything. I'm--I'm going away.'
+
+She said nothing, looking at him in silence.
+
+'Yes. I'm going to America. I've taken my passage. I'm going on
+Friday.... I thought of leaving without telling you, but I decided it
+was better to be open.'
+
+'But, Bruce, do you mean for a trip?'
+
+He stood up and looked at her full in the face.
+
+'No, I don't mean for a trip. I want to live in America.'
+
+'And you don't want me to come too?'
+
+'No, Edith; I can't endure married life any longer. It doesn't suit me.
+Three years ago I offered you your freedom and you refused to take it; I
+offer it you again now. You are older, you are perfectly fit to manage
+your life and the children's without me. I must be free--free to look
+after my health and to get away from everything!'
+
+'You mean to leave us altogether then?' said Edith, feeling unspeakably
+thankful.
+
+'Exactly. That's just what I do mean.'
+
+'But will you be happy--comfortable--alone in America?'
+
+He walked across the room and came back.
+
+'Edith, I'm sorry to pain you, but I shall not be alone.'
+
+Edith started, thinking of Madame Frabelle's letter ... from Liverpool!
+Evidently they were going away together.
+
+'Of course I give up the Foreign Office and my salary there, but you
+have some money of your own, Edith; it will be enough for you and the
+children to live quietly. And perhaps I shall be able to afford to send
+you part of my income that my father left me when I get something to do
+over there,' he added rather lamely.
+
+'You mean to get something to do?'
+
+'Yes; when I'm strong enough. I'm very ill--very.'
+
+There was a long pause, then Edith said kindly:
+
+'Have you any fault to find with me, Bruce?'
+
+'Edith, you are a perfect mother,' he said in a peculiar tone which
+sounded to Edith like an echo of Madame Frabelle. 'I've no fault to find
+with you either as a wife. But I'm not happy here. I'm miserable. I
+implore you not to make a scene. Don't oppose me; forgive me--on account
+of my health. This will save my life.'
+
+If he only knew how little she wished to oppose him! She stood up.
+
+'Bruce, you shall do exactly as you like!'
+
+He looked enchanted, relieved.
+
+'I hope you will be happy and well, and I shall try to be. May I just
+ask--is Madame Frabelle going to America?'
+
+'Edith, I will not deny it. We mean to throw in our lot together! Look
+out! You'll have the inkstand over!' She had moved near the
+writing-table.
+
+Edith stopped herself from a hysterical laugh.
+
+'You won't mind if I go down to the club for an hour?'
+
+'Certainly not.'
+
+'And, Edith--say what you can to my mother, and comfort her. Tell her
+it's to save my going off my head, or committing suicide. Will you
+say that?'
+
+'I will,' she replied.
+
+Five minutes later the door banged. Bruce had gone to the club. He
+hadn't told her he had taken a room there, and the same evening he sent
+up for his luggage. He did not wish to see Edith again.
+
+Just before he went out, as if casually for an hour at the club, Edith
+had said:
+
+'Would you like to come and see Dilly asleep?'
+
+It had occurred to her that at least he had been frank and honest, and
+for that he deserved to see Dilly again.
+
+'Edith, my nerves won't stand scenes. I'd better not. I won't see her.'
+
+'Oh, very well!' she cried indignantly. 'I offered it for your sake. I
+would rather you _didn't_ see her.'
+
+'Try not to be angry, Edith. Perhaps--some day--'
+
+'No. Never.'
+
+'You would never let me come back again to see you all?'
+
+'Never. Never.'
+
+'Edith.'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Oh! nothing. You needn't be so cross. Remember my health.'
+
+'I do,' said Edith.
+
+'And--Edith.'
+
+'Yes, Bruce?'
+
+'Don't forget about that inkstand, will you? It's always filled just a
+little too full. It's--it's very awkward.... Remember about it,
+won't you?'
+
+'Yes. Good night.'
+
+'Good night.'
+
+And Bruce went to the club.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day Edith felt she could neither write nor telephone to Aylmer.
+Just once--only once, for a long time--she must see him.
+
+She confided in Landi, who invited them both to tea at his studio for
+once only and was urgent in impressing patience on them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Edith arrived with this thrilling piece of news to announce she
+found Aylmer alone in the pretty white studio. Landi was expected back
+every moment from a lesson at a pupil's house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aylmer was beaming with Joy. 'Oh, my dear!' he cried, 'I'm not going
+away at all! They won't have me! They've given me an appointment at the
+War Office.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer! How wonderful! I know now--I couldn't have borne your going
+out again--now.'
+
+He put his arm round her. Ah! this, she felt, was real love--it wrapped
+her round, it lifted her off her feet.
+
+'But now, Aylmer, we mustn't meet, for a long time.'
+
+'But, why not? What is it? Something has happened!'
+
+'Aylmer, I needn't keep my promise now.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+'Aylmer, Bruce wants to leave me. He's going to leave me--to desert me.
+And the children, too.'
+
+'What! Do you mean--Do you mean--like before?'
+
+'Yes. But this time he won't come back. And he wants me to divorce him.
+And--this time--I shall!'
+
+'Edith! And do you mean--will he want to marry again?'
+
+'Yes, of course! And she'll take care of him--he'll be all right.'
+
+'Oh, Edith!' exclaimed Aylmer. 'Thank heaven for Madame Frabelle!'
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love at Second Sight, by Ada Leverson
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+Title: Love at Second Sight
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+Author: Ada Leverson
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+Release Date: February, 2006  [EBook #9851]
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT ***
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+E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Project Gutenberg Beginners Projects,
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+
+LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT
+
+by ADA LEVERSON
+
+First published London, 1916
+
+(Book Three of THE LITTLE OTTLEYS)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TO TACITUS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+An appalling crash, piercing shrieks, a loud, unequal quarrel on a
+staircase, the sharp bang of a door....
+
+Edith started up from her restful corner on the blue sofa by the fire,
+where she had been thinking about her guest, and rushed to the door.
+
+'Archie--Archie! Come here directly! What's that noise?'
+
+A boy of ten came calmly into the room.
+
+'It wasn't me that made the noise,' he said, 'it was Madame Frabelle.'
+
+His mother looked at him. He was a handsome, fair boy with clear grey
+eyes that looked you straight in the face without telling you anything
+at all, long eyelashes that softened, but gave a sly humour to his
+glance, a round face, a very large forehead, and smooth straw-coloured
+hair. Already at this early age he had the expressionless reserve of the
+public school where he was to be sent, with something of the suave
+superiority of the university for which he was intended. Edith thought
+he inherited both of these traits from her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She gazed at him, wondering, as she had often wondered, at the
+impossibility of guessing, even vaguely, what was really going on behind
+that large brow. And he looked back observantly, but not expressively,
+at her. She was a slim, fair, pretty woman, with more vividness and
+character than usually goes with her type. Like the boy, she had
+long-lashed grey eyes, and _blond-cendre_ hair: her mouth and chin were
+of the Burne-Jones order, and her charm, which was great but
+unintentional, and generally unconscious, appealed partly to the senses
+and partly to the intellect. She was essentially not one of those women
+who irritate all their own sex by their power (and still more by their
+fixed determination) to attract men; she was really and unusually
+indifferent to general admiration. Still, that she was not a cold woman,
+not incapable of passionate feeling, was obvious to any physiognomist;
+the fully curved lips showed her generous and pleasure-loving
+temperament, while the softly glancing, intelligent, smiling eyes spoke
+fastidiousness and discrimination. Her voice was low and soft, with a
+vibrating sound in it, and she laughed often and easily, being very
+ready to see and enjoy the amusing side of life. But observation and
+emotion alike were instinctively veiled by a quiet, reposeful manner, so
+that she made herself further popular by appearing retiring. Edith
+Ottley might so easily have been the centre of any group, and yet--she
+was not! Women were grateful to her, and in return admitted that she was
+pretty, unaffected and charming. Today she was dressed very simply in
+dark blue and might have passed for Archie's elder sister.
+
+'It isn't anything. It wasn't my fault. It was her fault. Madame
+Frabelle said _she_ would teach me to take away her mandolin and use it
+for a cricket bat. She needn't teach me; I know already.'
+
+'Now, Archie, you know perfectly well you've no right to go into her
+room when she isn't there.'
+
+'How can I go in when she is there?... She won't let me. Besides, I
+don't want to.'
+
+'It isn't nice of you; you ought not to go into her room without her
+permission.'
+
+'It isn't her room; it's your room. At least, it's the spare room.'
+
+'Have you done any harm to the mandolin?'
+
+He paused a little, as he often did before answering, as if in absence
+of mind, and then said, as though starting up from a reverie:
+
+'Er--no. No harm.'
+
+'Well, what have you done?'
+
+'I can mend it,' he answered.
+
+'Madame Frabelle has been very kind to you, Archie. I'm sorry you're not
+behaving nicely to a guest in your mother's house. It isn't the act of a
+gentleman.'
+
+'Oh. Well, there are a great many things in her room, Mother; some of
+them are rather jolly.'
+
+'Go and say you're sorry, Archie. And you mustn't do it again.'
+
+'Will it be the act of a gentleman to say I'm sorry? It'll be the act of
+a story-teller, you know.'
+
+'What! Aren't you sorry to have bothered her?'
+
+'I'm sorry she found it out,' he said, as he turned to the door.
+
+'These perpetual scenes and quarrels between my son and my guest are
+most painful to me,' Edith said, with assumed solemnity.
+
+He looked grave. 'Well, she needn't have quarrelled.'
+
+'But isn't she very kind to you?'
+
+'Yes, she isn't bad sometimes. I like it when she tells me lies about
+what her husband used to do--I mean stories. She's not a bad sort.... Is
+she a homeless refugette, Mother?'
+
+'Not exactly that. She's a widow, and she's staying with us, and we must
+be nice to her. Now, you won't forget again, will you?'
+
+'Right. But I can mend it.'
+
+'I think I'd better go up and see her,' said Edith.
+
+Archie politely opened the door for his mother.
+
+'I shouldn't, if I were you,' he said.
+
+Edith slowly went back to the fire.
+
+'Well, I'll leave her a little while, perhaps. Now do go and do
+something useful.'
+
+'What, useful? Gracious! I haven't got much more of my holidays,
+Mother.'
+
+'That's no reason why you should spend your time in worrying everybody,
+and smashing the musical instruments of guests that are under
+your roof.'
+
+He looked up at the ceiling and smiled, as if pleased at this way of
+putting it.
+
+'I suppose she's very glad to have a roof to her mouth--I mean to her
+head,' he hurriedly corrected. 'But, Mother, she isn't poor. She has an
+amber necklace. Besides, she gave Dilly sixpence the other day for not
+being frightened of a cow. If she can afford to give a little girl
+sixpence for every animal she says she isn't afraid of!'...
+
+'That only proves she's kind. And I didn't say she was poor; that's not
+the point. We must be nice and considerate to anyone staying with
+us--don't you see?'
+
+He became absent-minded again for a minute.
+
+'Well, I shouldn't be surprised if she'll be able to use it again,' he
+said consolingly--'the mandolin, I mean. Besides, what's the good of it
+anyway? I say, Mother, are all foreigners bad-tempered?'
+
+'Madame Frabelle is not a foreigner.'
+
+'I never said she was. But her husband was. He used to get into
+frightful rages with her sometimes. She says he was a noble fellow. She
+liked him awfully, but she says he never understood her. Do you suppose
+she talked English to him?'
+
+'That's enough, Archie. Go and find something to do.'
+
+As he went out he turned round again and said:
+
+'Does father like her?'
+
+'Why, yes, of course he does.'
+
+'How funny!' said Archie. 'Well, I'll say I'm sorry ... when I see her
+again.'
+
+Edith kissed him, a proceeding that he bore heroically. He was kissable,
+but she seldom gave way to the temptation. Then she went back to the
+sofa. She wanted to go on thinking about that mystery, her guest.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Madame Frabelle had arrived about a fortnight ago, with a letter of
+introduction from Lady Conroy. Lady Conroy herself was a vague, amiable
+Irishwoman, with a very large family of children. She and Edith, who
+knew each other slightly before, had grown intimate when they met, the
+previous summer, at a French watering-place. The letter asked Edith,
+with urgent inconsequence, to be kind to Madame Frabelle, of whom Lady
+Conroy said nothing except that she was of good family--she had been a
+Miss Eglantine Pollard--and was the widow of a well-to-do French
+wine merchant.
+
+She was described as a clever, interesting woman who wished to study
+English life in her native land. It did not surprise Lady Conroy in the
+least that an Englishwoman should wish to study English in England; but
+she was a woman who was never surprised at anything except the obvious
+and the inevitable.
+
+Edith had not had the faintest idea of asking Madame Frabelle to stay at
+her very small house in Sloane Street, for which invitation, indeed,
+there seemed no possible need or occasion. Yet she found herself asking
+her visitor to stay for a few days until a house or a hotel should be
+found; and Bruce, who detested guests in the house, seconded the
+invitation with warmth and enthusiasm. As Bruce was a subconscious snob,
+he may have been slightly influenced by the letter from Lady Conroy, who
+was the wife of an unprominent Cabinet Minister and, in a casual way,
+rather _grande dame_, if not exactly smart. But this consideration could
+not weigh with Edith, and its effect on Bruce must have long passed
+away. Madame Frabelle accepted the invitation as a matter of course,
+made use of it as a matter of convenience, and had remained ever since,
+showing no sign of leaving. Edith was deeply interested in her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And Bruce was more genuinely impressed and unconsciously bored by Madame
+Frabelle than by any woman he had ever met. Yet she was not at all
+extraordinary. She was a tall woman of about fifty, well bred without
+being distinguished, who could never have been handsome but was
+graceful, dignified, and pleasing. She was neither dark nor fair. She
+had a broad, good-natured face, and a pale, clear complexion. She was
+inclined to be fat; not locally, in the manner of a pincushion, but with
+the generally diffused plumpness described in shops as stock size. She
+was not the sort of modern woman of fifty, with a thin figure and a good
+deal of rouge, who looks young from the back when dancing or walking,
+and talks volubly and confidentially of her young men. She had, of
+course, nothing of the middle-aged woman of the past, who at her age
+would have been definitely on the shelf, doing wool-work or collecting
+recipes there. Nor did she resemble the strong-minded type in perpetual
+tailor-made clothes, with short grey hair and eye-glasses, who belongs
+to clubs and talks chiefly of the franchise. Madame Frabelle was soft,
+womanly, amiable, yet extremely outspoken, very firm, and inclined to
+lay down the law. She was certainly charming, as Bruce and Edith agreed
+every day (even now, when they were beginning to wonder when she was
+going away!). She had an extraordinary amount of personal magnetism,
+since she convinced both the Ottleys, as she had convinced Lady Conroy,
+that she was wonderfully clever: in fact, that she knew everything.
+
+A fortnight had passed, and Edith was beginning to grow doubtful. Was
+she so clever? Did she know everything? Did she know anything at all?
+Long arguments, that grew quite heated and excited at luncheon or
+dinner, about the origin of a word, the author of a book, and various
+debatable questions of the kind, invariably ended, after reference to a
+dictionary or an encyclopaedia, in Madame Frabelle proving herself, with
+an air of triumph, to be completely and entirely wrong. She was as
+generally positive as she was fatally mistaken. Yet so intense a belief
+had she in her intuition as well as in her own inaccurate information
+that her hypnotised hosts were growing daily more and more under her
+thumb. She took it for granted that everyone would take her for
+granted--and everyone did.
+
+Was all this agreeable or otherwise? Edith thought it must be, or how
+could they bear it at all? If it had not been extremely pleasant it
+would have been simply impossible.
+
+The fair, gentle, pretty Edith, who was more subtle than she appeared on
+the surface, while apparently indolent, had a very active brain. Madame
+Frabelle caused her to use it more than she had ever done before. Edith
+was intensely curious and until she understood her visitor she could not
+rest satisfied. She made her a psychological study.
+
+For example, here was a curious little point. Madame Frabelle did not
+look young for her age, nor did she seem in the least inclined to wish
+to be admired, nor ever to have been a flirt. The word 'fast', for
+example, would have been quite grotesque as associated with her, though
+she was by no means prudish as to subjects of conversation, nor prim in
+the middle-class way. Yet somehow it would not have seemed incongruous
+or surprising if one had found out that there was even now some romance
+in her life. But, doubtless, the most striking thing about her--and what
+made her popular--was her intense interest in other people. It went so
+far as to reach the very verge of being interference; but she was so
+pleasant that one could scarcely resent it either as curiosity or
+intrusion. Since she had stayed with the Ottleys, she appeared to think
+of no-one and nothing else in the world. One would think that no-one
+else existed for her. And, after all, such extreme interest is
+flattering. Bruce, Archie, Edith, even Dilly's nurse, all had, in her,
+an audience: interested, absorbed, enchanted. Who could help
+enjoying it?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Edith was still thinking about Madame Frabelle when a few minutes later,
+Bruce came in.
+
+Bruce also was fair, besides being tall, good-looking and well built.
+Known by their friends for some reason as the little Ottleys, these two
+were a rather fine-looking pair, and (at a casual glance) admirably
+suited to one another. They appeared to be exactly like thousands of
+other English married couples of the upper middle class between thirty
+and forty; he looked as manly (through being sunburnt from knocking a
+little ball over the links) as if he habitually went tiger-shooting;
+but, though not without charm, he had much less distinction than his
+wife. Most people smiled when Bruce's name was mentioned, and it was
+usual for his intimates to clap him on the back and call him a silly
+ass, which proves he was not unpopular. On the other hand, Edith was
+described as a very pretty woman, or a nice little thing, and by the
+more discriminating, jolly clever when you know her, and don't you
+forget it.
+
+When Bruce told his wife that no-one had ever regretted consulting him
+on a difficult, secret, and delicate matter, Edith had said she was
+quite sure they hadn't. Perhaps she thought no-one had ever regretted
+consulting him on such a subject, simply because no-one had ever tried.
+
+'Oh, please don't move, Edith,' he said, in the tone which means, 'Oh,
+please do move.' 'I like to see you comfortable.'
+
+There was something in his manner that made her feel apologetic, and she
+changed her position with the feeling of guilt about nothing, and a
+tinge of shame for something she hadn't done, easily produced by an air
+of self-sacrifice Bruce was apt to show at such moments.
+
+'Your hair's coming down, Edith,' he said kindly, to add to her vague
+embarrassment.
+
+As a matter of fact, a curl by the right ear was only about one-tenth of
+an inch farther on the cheek than it was intended to be But, by this
+observation, he got the advantage of her by giving the impression that
+she looked wild, unkempt, and ruffled, though she was, in reality,
+exactly as trim and neat as always.
+
+'Well--about the delicate matter you were going to talk over with me,
+Bruce?'
+
+'Oh yes. Oh, by the way,' he said, 'before we go into that, I wonder if
+you could help me about something? You could do me a really great
+service by helping me to find a certain book.'
+
+'Why, of course, Bruce, with pleasure. What is the book?' asked the
+amiable wife, looking alert.
+
+Bruce looked at her with pity.
+
+'What is the book? My dear Edith, don't you see I shouldn't have come to
+you about it if I knew what the book was.'
+
+'I beg your pardon, Bruce,' said Edith, now feeling thoroughly in the
+wrong, and looking round the room. 'But if you can't give me the name of
+the book I scarcely see how I can find it.'
+
+'And if I knew its name I shouldn't want your assistance.'
+
+It seemed a deadlock.
+
+Going to the bookcase, Edith said:
+
+'Can't you give me some idea of what it's like?'
+
+'Certainly I can. I've seen it a hundred times in this very room; in
+fact it's always here, except when it's wanted.'
+
+Edith went down on her knees in front of the bookcase and
+cross-questioned Bruce on the physiognomy of the volume. She asked
+whether it was a novel, whether it was blue, whether it belonged to the
+library, whether it was Stevenson, whether it was French, or if it was
+suitable for the children.
+
+To all of these questions he returned a negative.
+
+'Suitable for the children?' he repeated. 'What a fantastic idea! Do you
+think I should take all this trouble to come and request your assistance
+and spend hours of valuable time looking for a book that's suitable for
+the children?'
+
+'But, Bruce, if you request my assistance without having the slightest
+idea of what book it is, how shall I possibly be able to help?'
+
+'Quite so ... quite so. Never mind, Edith, don't trouble. If I say that
+it's a pity there isn't more order in the house you won't regard it, I
+hope, dear, as a reproach in any way. If there were a place for
+everything, and everything in its place--However! Never mind. It's a
+small matter, and it can't be helped. I know, Edith dear, you were not
+brought up to be strictly orderly. Some people are not. I don't blame
+you; not in the least. Still, when Dilly grows up I shall be sorry if--'
+
+'Bruce, it's nothing to do with order. The room is perfectly tidy. It's
+a question of your memory. You don't remember the name of the book.'
+
+'Pardon me, it's not a question of remembering the name; that would be
+nothing. Anyone can forget a name. That wouldn't matter.'
+
+'Oh, then, you mean you don't even know in the least what you want?'
+
+At this moment Bruce decided it was time to find the book, and suddenly
+sprang, like a middle-aged fawn, at the writing-table, seizing a volume
+triumphantly.
+
+'There it is--the whole time!' he said, 'staring at you while you are
+helplessly looking for it. Oh, Edith, Edith!' he laughed amiably. 'How
+like a woman that is! And the very book a few inches from your hand!
+Well, well, never mind; it's found at last. I hope, dear, in the future
+you will be more careful. We'll say no more about it now.'
+
+Edith didn't point out to Bruce that the book was a novel; that it was
+blue; that it belonged to the library, was French, and that it was still
+suitable for the children.
+
+'Well, well,' he said, sitting down with the book, which he had never
+wanted at all, and had never even thought of when he came to the room
+first, 'well, well, here it is! And now for the point I was going to
+tell you when I came in.'
+
+'Shall we have tea, dear?' said Edith.
+
+'Tea? Oh, surely not. It's only just four. I don't think it's good for
+the servants having tea half-an-hour earlier than usual. It's a little
+thing--yes, I know that, but I don't believe in it. I like punctuality,
+regularity--oh, well, of course, dear, if you wish it.'
+
+'No, I don't at all! I thought you might.'
+
+'Oh no. I like punctuality, er--and, as a matter of fact, I had tea at
+the club.'
+
+Laughing, Edith rang the bell.
+
+Bruce lighted a cigarette, first, with his usual courtesy, asking her
+permission.
+
+'I'll tell you about _that_ when Woodhouse has gone,' he said
+mysteriously.
+
+'Oh, can't you tell me anything about it now? I wouldn't have ordered
+tea if I'd known that!'
+
+He enjoyed keeping her waiting, and was delighted at her interest. He
+would have made it last longer, but was unable to bear his own suspense;
+so he said:
+
+'Before I say any more, tell me: where is Madame Frabelle?'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+'Madame Frabelle's in her own room. She stays there a good deal, you
+know. I fancy she does it out of tactfulness.' Edith spoke thoughtfully.
+
+'What does she do there?' Bruce asked with low-toned curiosity, as he
+stood up and looked in the glass.
+
+'She says she goes there to read. She thinks it bores people to see a
+visitor sitting reading about the house; she says it makes them get
+tired of the sight of her.'
+
+'But she can't be reading all those hours, surely?' and Bruce sat down,
+satisfied with his appearance.
+
+'One would think not. I used to think she was probably lying on the sofa
+with cold cream on her face, or something of that sort. But she doesn't.
+Once I went in,' Edith smiled, 'and found her doing Swedish exercises.'
+
+'Good heavens! What a wonderful woman she is! Do you mean to say she's
+learning Swedish, as well as all the other languages she knows?'
+
+'No, no. I mean physical exercises. But go on, Bruce. I'm getting so
+impatient.'
+
+Bruce settled himself down comfortably, blew a ring of smoke, and then
+began slowly:
+
+'I never dreamt, Edith--'
+
+'Oh, Bruce, are you going to tell me everything you never dreamt? We
+shall take weeks getting to the point.'
+
+'Don't be absurd. I'll get to the point at once then. Look here; I think
+we ought to give a dinner for Madame Frabelle!'
+
+'Oh, is that all? Of course! I've been wondering that you didn't wish to
+do it long before now.'
+
+'Have you? I'll tell you why. Thinking Madame Frabelle was a pal, er--a
+friend--of the Conroys, it stood to reason, don't you see, that she knew
+everyone in London; or could, if she liked--everyone worth knowing, I
+mean. Under these circumstances there was no point in--well--in showing
+off our friends to her. But I found out, only last night'--he lowered
+his voice--'what do you think? She isn't an intimate friend of Lady
+Conroy's at all! She only made her acquaintance in the drawing-room of
+the Royal Hotel two days before she came to London!'
+
+Edith laughed.
+
+'How delightful! Then why on earth did Lady Conroy send her to us with a
+letter of introduction? Why just us?'
+
+'Because she likes you. Besides, it's just like her, isn't it? And she
+never said she had known her all her life. We jumped to that conclusion.
+It was our own idea.'
+
+'And how did you find it out?'
+
+'Why, when you went up to the children and left me alone with Madame
+Frabelle yesterday evening, she told me herself; perfectly frankly, in
+her usual way. She's always like that, so frank and open. Besides, she
+hadn't the slightest idea we didn't know it.'
+
+'I hope you didn't let her think--' Edith began.
+
+'Edith! As if I would! Well, that being so'--he lit another
+cigarette--'and under the circumstances, I want to ask some people to
+meet her. See?'
+
+'She seems very happy with us alone, doesn't she? Not as if she cared
+much for going out.'
+
+'Yes, I know; that's all very well. But I don't want her to think we
+don't know anyone. And it seems a bit selfish, too, keeping her all to
+ourselves like this.'
+
+'Who do you want her to meet, dear?'
+
+'I want her to meet the Mitchells,' said Bruce. 'It's only a chance, of
+course, that she hasn't met them already here, and I've told Mitchell at
+the Foreign Office a good deal about her. He's very keen to know her.
+Very keen indeed,' he added thoughtfully.
+
+'And then the Mitchells will ask her to their house, of course?'
+
+'I know they will,' said Bruce, rather jealously. 'Well, I shan't mind
+her going there--once or twice--it's a very pleasant house, you know,
+Edith. And she likes celebrities, and clever people, and that sort
+of thing.'
+
+'Mrs Mitchell will count her as one, no doubt.'
+
+'I daresay! What does that matter? So she is.'
+
+'I know she is, in a way; but, Bruce, don't you wonder why she stays
+here so long? I mean, there's no question of its not being for--well,
+for, say, interested reasons. I happen to know for a fact that she has a
+far larger income for herself alone than we have altogether. She showed
+me her bank-book one day.'
+
+'Why?'
+
+'I don't know. She's so confidential, and perhaps she wanted me to know
+how she was placed. And--she's not that sort of person--she's generous
+and liberal, rather extravagant I should say.'
+
+'Quite so. Still, it's comfortable here, and saves trouble--and she
+likes us.'
+
+Bruce again looked up toward the mirror, though he couldn't see it now.
+
+'Well, I don't mind her being here; it's a nice change, but it seems odd
+she hasn't said a word about going. Well, about the dinner. Who else
+shall we have, Edith? Let it be a small, intimate, distinguished sort of
+dinner. She hates stiffness and ceremony. She likes to have a chance
+to talk.'
+
+'She does, indeed. All right, you can leave it to me, Bruce. I'll make
+it all right. We'll have about eight people, shall we?'
+
+'She must sit next to me, on my left,' Bruce observed. 'And not lilies
+of the valley--she doesn't like the scent.'
+
+Madame Frabelle was usually designated between them by the personal
+pronoun only.
+
+'All right. But what was the delicate, difficult matter that someone
+consulted you about, Bruce?'
+
+'Ah, I was just coining to that.... Hush!'
+
+The door opened. Madame Frabelle came in, dressed in a violet tea-gown.
+
+'Tea?' said Edith, holding out a cup.
+
+'Yes, indeed! I'm always ready for tea, and you have such delightful
+tea, Edith dear!' (They had already reached the point of Christian
+names, though Edith always found Eglantine a little difficult to say.)
+'It's nice to see you back so early, Mr Ottley.'
+
+'Wouldn't you like a slice of lemon?' said Bruce.
+
+To offer her a slice of lemon with tea was, from Bruce, a tribute to the
+lady's talents.
+
+'Oh no! Cream and sugar, please.'
+
+Madame Frabelle was looking very pleasant and very much at her ease as
+she sat down comfortably, taking the largest chair.
+
+'I'm afraid that Archie has been bothering you today,' Edith said, as
+she poured out tea.
+
+'What!' exclaimed Bruce, with a start of horror.
+
+'Oh no, no, no! Not the least in the world, Mr Ottley! He's a most
+delightful boy. We were only having some fun together--about my
+mandolin; that was all!'
+
+(Edith thought of the sounds she had heard on the stairs.)
+
+'I'm afraid I got a little cross. A thing I very seldom do.' Madame
+Frabelle looked apologetically at Edith. 'But we've quite made it up
+now! Oh, and by the way, I want to speak to you both rather seriously
+about your boy,' she went on earnestly. She had a rather powerful,
+clear, penetrating voice, and spoke with authority, decision, and the
+sort of voluble fluency generally known as not letting anyone else get a
+word in edgeways.
+
+'About our boy?' said Bruce, handing the toast to her invitingly, while
+Edith put a cushion behind her back, for which Madame Frabelle gave a
+little gracious smile.
+
+'About your boy. Do you know, I have a very curious gift, Mr Ottley. I
+can always see in children what they're going to make a success of in
+life. Without boasting, I know you, Edith, are kind enough to believe
+that I'm an extraordinary judge of character. Oh, I've always been like
+that. I can't help it. I'll tell you now what you must make of your
+boy,' she pursued. 'He is a born musician!'
+
+'A musician!' exclaimed both his parents at once, in great astonishment.
+
+Madame Frabelle nodded. 'That boy is a born composer! He has genius for
+music. Look at his broad forehead! Those grey eyes, so wide apart! I
+know, just at first one thinks too much from the worldly point of view
+of the success of one's son in life. But why go against nature? The
+boy's a genius!'
+
+'But,' ventured Edith, 'Archie hasn't the slightest ear for music!'
+
+'He dislikes music intensely,' said Bruce. 'Simply loathes it.'
+
+'He cried so much over his piano lessons that we were obliged to let him
+give them up. It used to make him quite ill--and his music mistress
+too,' Edith said. 'I remember she left the last time in hysterics.'
+
+'Yes, by Jove, I remember too. Pretty girl she was. She had a nervous
+breakdown afterwards,' said Bruce rather proudly.
+
+'No, dear; you're thinking of the other one--the woman who began to
+teach him the violin.'
+
+'Oh, am I?'
+
+Madame Frabelle nodded her head with a smile.
+
+'Nothing on earth to do with it, my dear! The boy's a born composer all
+the same. With that face he must be a musician!'
+
+'Really! Funny he hates it so,' said Bruce thoughtfully. 'But still, I
+have no doubt--'
+
+'Believe me, you can't go by his not liking his lessons,' assured Madame
+Frabelle, as she ate a muffin. 'That has nothing to do with it at all.
+The young Mozart--'
+
+'Mozart? I thought he played the piano when he was only three?'
+
+'Handel, I mean--or was it Meyerbeer? At any rate you'll see I'm right.'
+
+'You really think we ought to force him against his will to study music
+seriously, with the idea of his being a composer when he grows up,
+though he detests it?' asked his mother.
+
+Madame Frabelle turned to Edith.
+
+'Won't you feel proud when you see your son conducting his own opera, to
+the applause of thousands? Won't it be something to be the mother of the
+greatest English composer of the twentieth century?'
+
+'It would be rather fun.'
+
+'We shan't hear quite so much about Strauss, Elgar, Debussy and all
+those people when Archie Ottley grows up,' declared Madame Frabelle.
+
+'I hear very little about them now,' said Bruce.
+
+'Well, how should you at the Foreign Office, or the golf-links, or the
+club?' asked Edith.
+
+Bruce ignored Edith, and went on: 'Perhaps he'll turn out to be a Lionel
+Monckton or a Paul Rubens. Perhaps he'll write comic opera revues or
+musical comedies.'
+
+'Oh dear, no,' said their guest, shaking her head decidedly. 'It will be
+the very highest class, the top of the tree! The real thing!'
+
+'Madame Frabelle _may_ be right, you know,' said Bruce.
+
+She leant back, smiling.
+
+'I _know_ I'm right! There's simply no question about it.'
+
+'Well, what do you think we ought to do about it?' said Edith. 'He goes
+to a preparatory school now where they don't have any music lessons
+at all.'
+
+'All the better,' she answered. 'The sort of lessons he would get at a
+school would be no use to him.'
+
+'So I should think,' murmured Edith.
+
+'Leave it, say, for the moment, and when he comes back for his next
+holidays put him under a good teacher--a really great man. And
+you'll see!'
+
+'I daresay we shall,' said Bruce, considerably relieved at the
+postponement. 'Funny though, isn't it, his not knowing one tune from
+another, when he's a born musician?'
+
+It flashed across Edith what an immense bond of sympathy it was between
+Bruce and Madame Frabelle that neither of them was burdened with the
+slightest sense of humour.
+
+When he presently went out (each of them preferred talking to Her alone,
+and She also enjoyed a _tête-à-tête_ most) Madame Frabelle drew up her
+chair nearer to Edith and said:
+
+'My dear, I'm going to tell you something. Don't be angry with me, or
+think me impertinent, but you've been very kind to me, and I look upon
+you as a real friend.'
+
+'It's very sweet of you,' said Edith, feeling hypnotised, and as if she
+would gladly devote her life to Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Well, I can see something. You are not quite happy.'
+
+'Not happy!' exclaimed Edith.
+
+'No. You have a trouble, and I'd give anything to take it away.'
+
+Madame Frabelle looked at her with sympathy, pressed her hand, then
+looked away.
+
+Edith knew she was looking away out of delicacy. Delicacy about what? It
+was an effort not to laugh; but, oddly enough, it was also an effort not
+to feel secretly miserable. She wondered, though, what she was unhappy
+about. She need not have troubled, for Madame Frabelle was quite willing
+to tell her. She was, indeed, willing to tell anyone anything. Perhaps
+that was the secret of her charm.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was utterly impossible, literally out of the question, that Madame
+Frabelle could know anything about the one trouble, the one danger, that
+so narrowly escaped being almost a tragedy, in Edith's life.
+
+It was three years since Bruce, always inclined to vague, mild
+flirtations, had been positively carried off his feet, and literally
+taken away by a determined young art student, with red hair, who had
+failed to marry a friend of his. While Edith, with the children, was
+passing the summer holidays at Westgate, Bruce had sent her the
+strangest of letters, informing her that he and Mavis Argles could not
+live without one another, and had gone to Australia together, and
+imploring her to divorce him. The complication was increased by the fact
+that at that particular moment the most charming man Edith had ever met,
+Aylmer Ross, that eloquent and brilliant barrister, had fallen in love
+with her, and she had become considerably attracted to him. Her pride
+had been hurt at Bruce's conduct, but she had certainly felt it less
+bitterly, in one way, because she was herself so much fascinated by
+Aylmer and his devotion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Edith had behaved with cool courage and real unselfishness. She felt
+certain that Brace's mania would not last, and that if it did he would
+be miserable. Strangely, then, she had declined to divorce him, and
+waited. Her prophecy turned out correct, and by the time they arrived at
+their journey's end the red-haired lady was engaged to a commercial
+traveller whom she met on the boat. By then Bruce and she were equally
+convinced that in going to Australia they had decidedly gone too far.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So Brace came back, and Edith forgave him. She made one condition only
+(which was also her one revenge), that he should never speak about it,
+never mention the subject again.
+
+Aylmer Ross, who had taken his romance seriously to heart, refused to be
+kept as _l'ami de la maison,_ and as a platonic admirer. Deeply
+disappointed--for he was prepared to give his life to Edith and her
+children (he was a widower of independent means)--he had left England;
+she had never seen him since.
+
+All this had been a real event, a real break in Edith's life. For the
+first few months after she suffered, missing the excitement of Aylmer's
+controlled passion, and his congenial society. Gradually she made
+herself--not forget it--but put aside, ignore the whole incident. It
+gave her genuine satisfaction to know that she had made a sacrifice for
+Bruce's sake. She was aware that he could not exist really
+satisfactorily without her, though perhaps he didn't know it. He needed
+her. At first she had endeavoured to remain separated from him, while
+apparently living together, from who knows what feeling of romantic
+fidelity to Aylmer, or pique at the slight shown her by her husband.
+Then she found that impossible. It would make him more liable to other
+complications and the whole situation too full of general difficulties.
+So now, for the last three years, they had been on much the same terms
+as they were before. Bruce had become, perhaps, less patronising, more
+respectful to her, and she a shade more gentle and considerate to him,
+as to a child. For she was generous and did not forgive by halves. There
+were moments of nervous irritation, of course, and of sentimental
+regret. On the whole, though, Edith was glad she had acted as she did.
+But if occasionally she felt her life a little dull and flat, if she
+missed some of the excitement of that eventful year, it was impossible
+for anyone to see it by her manner.
+
+What could Madame Frabelle possibly know about it? What did that lady
+really suppose was the matter?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'What do you think I'm unhappy about?' Edith repeated.
+
+Madame Frabelle, as has been mentioned, was willing to tell her. She
+told her, as usual, with fluency and inaccuracy.
+
+Edith was much amused to find how strangely mistaken was this
+authoritative lady as to her intuitions, how inevitably _à faux_ with
+her penetrations and her instinctive guesses. Madame Frabelle said that
+she believed Edith was beginning to feel the dawn of love for someone,
+and was struggling against it. (The struggle of course in reality had
+long been over.)
+
+Who was the person?
+
+'I haven't met him yet,' Madame Frabelle said; 'but isn't there a name I
+hear very often? Your husband is always talking about him; he told me I
+was to make the acquaintance of this great friend of his. Something
+tells me it is he. I shall know as soon as I see him. You can't hide
+it from me!'
+
+Who was the person Bruce was always mentioning to Madame Frabelle?
+Certainly not Aylmer Ross--he had apparently forgotten his existence.
+
+'Are you referring to--?'
+
+Madame Frabelle looked out of the window and nodded.
+
+'Yes--Mr Mitchell!'
+
+Edith started, and a smile curved her lips.
+
+'It's always the husband's great friend, unfortunately,' sighed
+Eglantine. 'Oh, my dear' (with the usual cheap, ready-made knowingness
+of the cynic), 'I've seen so much of that. Now I'm going to help you.
+I'm determined to leave you two dear, charming people without a cloud,
+when I go.'
+
+'You're not thinking of going?'
+
+'Not yet ... no. Not while you let me stay here, dear. I've friends in
+London, and in the country, but I haven't looked them up, or written to
+them, or done anything since I've been here. I've been too happy. I
+couldn't be bothered. I am so interested in you! Another thing--may I
+say?--for I feel as if I'd known you for years. You think your husband
+doesn't know it. You are wrong.'
+
+'Am I really?'
+
+'Quite. Last night a certain look when he spoke of the Mitchells showed
+me that Bruce is terribly jealous. He doesn't show it, but he is.'
+
+'But--Mrs Mitchell?' suggested Edith. 'She's one of our best friends--a
+dear thing. By the way, we're asking them to dine with us on Tuesday.'
+
+'I'm delighted to hear it. I shall understand everything then. Isn't it
+curious--without even seeing them--that I know all about it? I think
+I've a touch of second sight.'
+
+'But, Eglantine, aren't you going a little far? Hadn't you better wait
+until you've seen them, at least. You've no idea how well the
+Mitchells get on.'
+
+'I've no doubt of it,' she replied, 'and, of course, I don't know that
+he--Mr Mitchell, I mean--even realises what you are to him. But _I_ do!'
+
+Edith was really impressed at the dash with which Madame Frabelle so
+broadly handled this vague theme.
+
+'Wait till you do see them,' she said, rather mischievously, declining
+to deny her friend's suggestion altogether.
+
+'Odd I should have guessed it, isn't it?' Madame Frabelle was evidently
+pleased. 'You'll admit this, Edith, from what your husband says I gather
+you see each other continually, don't you?'
+
+'Very often.'
+
+'Bruce and he are together at the Foreign Office. Bruce thinks much of
+him, and admires him. With it all I notice now and then a tinge of
+bitterness in the way he speaks. He was describing their fancy-dress
+ball to me the other day, and really his description of Mr Mitchell's
+costume would have been almost spiteful in any other man.'
+
+'Well, but Mr Mitchell is over sixty. And he was got up as a black
+poodle.'
+
+'Yes; quite so. But he's a fine-looking man, isn't he? And very pleasant
+and hospitable?'
+
+'Oh yes, of course.'
+
+'On your birthday last week that magnificent basket of flowers came from
+Mr Mitchell,' stated Eglantine.
+
+'Certainly; from the Mitchells rather. But, really, that's nothing. I
+think you'll be a little disappointed if you think he's at all of the
+romantic type.'
+
+'I didn't think that,' she answered, though of course she had; 'but
+something told me--I don't know why--that there's some strange
+attraction.... I never saw a more perfect wife than you, nor a more
+perfect mother. But these things should be nipped in the bud, dear. They
+get hold of you sometimes before you know where you are. And think,' she
+went on with relish, 'how terrible it would be practically to break up
+two homes!'
+
+'Oh, really, I must stop you there,' cried Edith. 'You don't think of
+elopements, do you?'
+
+'I don't say that, necessarily. But I've seen a great deal of life. I've
+lived everywhere, and just the very households--_ménages,_ as we say
+abroad--that seem most calm and peaceful, sometimes--It would be,
+anyhow, very dreadful, wouldn't it--to live a double life?'
+
+Edith thought her friend rather enjoyed the idea, but she said:
+
+'You don't imagine, I hope, that there's anything in the nature of an
+intrigue going on between me and Mr Mitchell?'
+
+'No, no, no--not now--not yet--but you don't quite know, Edith, how one
+can be carried away. As I was sitting up in my room--thinking--'
+
+'You think too much,' interrupted Edith.
+
+'Perhaps so--but it came to me like this. I mean to be the one to put
+things right again, if I can. My dear child, a woman of the world like
+myself sees things. You two ought to be ideally happy. You're meant for
+one another--I mean you and Bruce.'
+
+'Do you think so?'
+
+'Absolutely. But this--what shall I say?--this fascination is coming
+between you, and, though you don't realise it, it's saddening Bruce's
+life; it will sadden yours too. At first, no doubt, at the stage you're
+in, dear, it seems all romance and excitement. But later on--Now, Edith,
+promise me you won't be angry with me for what I've said? It's a
+terrible freedom that I've taken, I know. Really a liberty. But if I
+were your'--she glanced at the mirror--'elder sister, I couldn't be
+fonder of you. Don't think I'm a horrid, interfering old thing,
+will you?'
+
+'Indeed I don't; you're a dear.'
+
+'Well, we won't speak of it any more till after Tuesday,' said Madame
+Frabelle, 'and take my advice: throw yourself into other things.'
+
+She glanced round the room.
+
+'It's a splendid idea to divert your thoughts; why don't you refurnish
+your boudoir?'
+
+Edith had often noticed the strange lack in Eglantine of any sense of
+decoration. She dressed charmingly, but with regard to surroundings she
+was entirely devoid of taste. She had the curious provincialism so often
+seen in cosmopolitans who have lived most of their lives in hotels,
+without apparently noticing or caring about their surroundings.
+
+Edith made rather a hobby of decoration, and she had a cultured and
+quiet taste, and much knowledge on the subject. She guessed Madame
+Frabelle thought her rooms too plain, too colourless. Instead of the
+dull greys and blues, and surfaces without design, she felt sure her
+friend would have preferred gorgeous patterns, and even a good deal of
+gilt. Probably at heart Madame Frabelle's ideal was the crimson plush
+and stamped leather and fancy ceilings of the lounge in a foreign hotel.
+
+'I rather like my room, you know,' said Edith.
+
+'And so do I. It's very charming. But a change, dear--a change of
+_entourage_, as we say abroad, would do you good.'
+
+'Well, we must really think that out,' said Edith.
+
+'That's right. And you're not cross?'
+
+'Cross? I don't know when I've enjoyed a conversation so much,' said
+Edith, speaking with perfect truth.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The Ottleys and Madame Frabelle were in the drawing-room awaiting their
+guests. (I say advisedly their guests, for no-one could help regarding
+Madame Frabelle as essentially the hostess, and queen of the evening.)
+One would fancy that instead of entertaining more or less for the last
+twelve years the young couple had never given a dinner before; so much
+suppressed excitement was in the air. Bruce was quiet and subdued now
+from combined nervousness and pride, but for the few days previous he
+had been terribly trying to his unfortunate wife; nothing, according to
+him, could be good enough for the purpose of impressing Madame Frabelle,
+and he appeared to have lost all his confidence in Edith's undeniable
+gift for receiving.
+
+The flowers, the menu, the arrangement of the eight people--for the
+dinner was still small, intimate and distinguished, as he had first
+suggested--had been subjected to continual and maddening changes in its
+scheme. Everyone had been disengaged and everyone had accepted--then he
+wished he had asked other people instead.
+
+When Edith was dressed Bruce put the last touch to his irritating
+caprices by asking Edith to take out of her hair a bandeau of blue that
+he had first asked her to put in. Every woman will know what agony that
+must have caused. The pretty fair hair was waved and arranged specially
+for this ornament, and when she took it out the whole scheme seemed to
+her wrong. However, she looked very pretty, dressed in vaporous tulle of
+a shade of blue which only a faultless complexion can bear.
+
+Edith's complexion was her strong point. When she was a little flushed
+she looked all the better for it, and when she was pale it seemed to
+suit her none the worse. Hers was the sort of skin with a satiny texture
+that improves under bright sunshine or electric light; in fact the more
+brilliantly it was lighted the better it looked.
+
+Madame Frabelle (of course) was dressed in black, _décolletée,_ and with
+a good deal of jet. A black aigrette, like a lightning conductor, stood
+up defiantly in her hair. Though it did not harmonise well with the
+somewhat square and _bourgeois_ shape of her head and face, and
+appeared to have dropped on her by accident, yet as a symbol of
+smartness it gave her a kind of distinction. It appeared to have fallen
+from the skies; it was put on in the wrong place, and it did not nestle,
+as it should do, and appear to grow out of the hair, since that glory of
+womanhood, in her case of a dull brown, going slightly grey, was smooth,
+scarce and plainly parted. Madame Frabelle really would have looked her
+best in a cap of the fashion of the sixties. But she could carry off
+anything; and some people said that she did.
+
+Edith had been allowed by her husband _carte blanche_ in the decoration
+of their house.
+
+This was fortunate, as _mise-en-scène_ was a great gift of hers; no-one
+had such a sense as Edith for arranging a room. She had struck the happy
+mean between the eccentric and the conventional. Anything that seemed
+unusual did not appear to be a pose, or a strained attempt at being
+different from others, but seemed to have a reason of its own. For
+example, she greatly disliked the usual gorgeous _endimanché_
+drawing-room and dark conventional dining-room. The room in which she
+received her guests was soft and subdued in colour and not dazzling with
+that blaze of light that is so trying to strangers just arrived and not
+knowing their way about a house (or certain of how they are looking).
+The room seemed to receive them kindly; make them comfortable, and at
+their ease, hoping they looked their best. The shaded lights, not dim
+enough to be depressing, were kind to those past youth and gave
+confidence to the shy. There was nothing ceremonious, nothing chilly,
+about the drawing-room; it was essentially at once comfortable and
+becoming, and the lights shone like shaded sunshine from the dull pink
+corners of the room.
+
+On the other hand, the dining-room helped conversation by its
+stimulating gaiety and daintiness.
+
+The feminine curves of the furniture, such as is usually kept for the
+drawing-room, were all pure Louis-Quinze. It was deliriously pretty in
+its pink and white and pale green.
+
+In the drawing-room the hosts stood by one of those large, old-fashioned
+oaken fireplaces so supremely helpful to conversation and
+_tête-à-têtes_. In Edith's house there was never any general
+conversation except at dinner. People simply made friends, flirted, and
+enjoyed themselves.
+
+As the clock struck eight the Mitchells were announced. Edith could
+scarcely control a laugh as Mr Mitchell came in, he looked so utterly
+unlike the dangerous lover Madame Frabelle had conjured up. He was
+immensely tall, broad, loosely built, large-shouldered, with a red
+beard, a twinkle in his eye, and the merriest of laughs. He was a
+delightful man, but there was no romance about him. Besides, Edith
+remembered him as a black poodle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Mitchell struck a useful note, and seemed a perfect complement to
+her husband, the ideal wife for him. She was about forty-five, but being
+slim, animated, and well dressed (though entirely without _chic_), she
+seemed a good deal younger.
+
+Mr. Mitchell might have been any age between sixty and sixty-five, and
+had the high spirits and vitality of a boy.
+
+It was impossible to help liking this delightful couple; they fully
+deserved their popularity. In the enormous house at Hampstead, arranged
+like a country mansion, where they lived, Mr. Mitchell made it the
+object of his life to collect Bohemians as other people collect Venetian
+glass, from pure love of the material. His wife, with a silly woman's
+subtlety, having rather lower ideals--that is to say, a touch of the
+very human vulgarity known as social ambition--made use of his
+Bohemianism to help her on in her mundane success. This was the
+principle of the thing. If things were well done--and they always were
+at her house--would not a duke, if he were musical, go anywhere to hear
+the greatest tenor in Europe? And would not all the greatest celebrities
+go anywhere to meet a duke?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next the two young Conistons were announced.
+
+Miss Coniston was a thin, amiable, artistic girl, who did tooling in
+leather, made her own dresses, recited, and had a pale, good-looking,
+too well-dressed, disquieting young brother of twenty-two, who seemed to
+be always going out when other people came in, but was rather useful in
+society, being musical and very polite. The music that he chose
+generally gave his audience a shock. Being so young, so pale, and so
+contemporary, one expected him to sing thin, elusive music by Debussy,
+Fauré, or Ravel. He seemed never to have heard of these composers, but
+sang instead threatening songs, such as, 'I'll sing thee Songs of
+Araby!' or defiant, teetotal melodies, like 'Drink to Me only with thine
+Eyes!' His voice was good, and louder and deeper than one would expect.
+He accompanied himself and his sister everywhere. She, by the way, to
+add to the interest about her, was said to be privately engaged to a
+celebrity who was never there. Alice and Guy Coniston were orphans, and
+lived alone in a tiny flat in Pelham Gardens. He had been reading for
+the Bar, but when the war broke out he joined the New Army, and was
+now in khaki.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But the _clou_ and great interest of the evening was the arrival of Sir
+Tito Landi, that most popular of all Italian composers. With his white
+moustache, pink and white complexion, and large bright blue eyes, his
+dandified dress, his eyeglass and buttonhole, he had the fresh, fair
+look of an Englishman, the dry brilliance of a Parisian, the _naïveté_
+of a genius, the manners of a courtier, and behind it all the diabolic
+humour of the Neapolitan. He was small, thin and slight, with a curious
+dignity of movement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Ah, Tito,' cried Bruce cordially. 'Here you are!'
+
+The dinner was bright and gay from the very beginning, even before the
+first glass of champagne. It began with an optimistic view of the war,
+then, dropping the grave subject, they talked of people, theatres,
+books, and general gossip. In all these things Madame Frabelle took the
+lead. Indeed, she had begun at once laying down the law in a musical
+voice but with a determined manner that gave those who knew her to
+understand only too well that she intended to go steadily on, and
+certainly not to stop to breathe before the ices.
+
+Sir Tito Landi, fixing his eyeglass in his bright blue eye, took in
+Madame Frabelle in one long look, and smiled at her sympathetically.
+
+'What do you think of her?' murmured Edith to Landi.
+
+Hypnotised and slightly puzzled as she was by her guest, she was
+particularly curious for his opinion, as she knew him to be the best
+judge of character of her acquaintance. He had some of the
+capriciousness of the spoilt, successful artist, which showed itself,
+except to those whom he regarded as real friends, in odd variations of
+manner, so that Edith could not tell at all by his being extremely
+charming to Madame Frabelle that he liked her, or by his being abrupt
+and satirical that he didn't. An old friend and a favourite, she could
+rely on what he told her.
+
+'C'est une bonne vieille,' he said. 'Bonne, mais bête!'
+
+'Really?' Edith asked, surprised.
+
+Landi laughed. 'Bête comme ses pieds, ma chère!'
+
+Returning to decent language and conventional tone, he went on with a
+story he was telling about an incident that had happened when he was
+staying with some royalties. His stories were short, new, amusing, and
+invariably suited to his audience. Anything about the Court he saw, at a
+glance, would genuinely interest Madame Frabelle. Edith was amused as
+she saw that lady becoming more and more convinced of Landi's
+importance, and of his respectful admiration.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Long before dinner was over there was no doubt that everyone was
+delighted with Madame Frabelle. She talked so well, suited herself to
+everyone, and simply charmed them all. Yet why? Edith was still
+wondering, but by the time she rose to go upstairs she thought she began
+to understand her friend's secret. People were not charmed with
+Eglantine because she herself was charming, but because she was charmed.
+Madame Frabelle was really as much interested in everyone to whom she
+spoke as she appeared to be; the interest was not assumed. A few little
+pretences and affectations she might have, such as that of knowing a
+great deal about every subject under the sun--of having read everything,
+and been everywhere, but her interest in other people was real. That was
+what made people like her.
+
+Young Coniston, shy, sensitive and reserved as he was, had nevertheless
+told her all about his training at Braintree, the boredom of getting up
+early, the dampness of the tents, and how much he wanted to be sent to
+the front. She admired his valour, was interested in his music, and at
+her persuasion he promised to sing her songs of Araby after dinner.
+
+When the ladies were alone Eglantine's universal fascination was even
+more remarkable. Mrs. Mitchell, at her desire, gave her the address of
+the little dressmaker who ran up Mrs. Mitchell's blouses and skirts.
+This was an honour for Mrs. Mitchell; nothing pleased her so much as to
+be asked for the address of her dressmaker by a woman with a
+foreign name.
+
+As to Miss Coniston, she was enraptured with Eglantine. Madame Frabelle
+arranged to go and see her little exhibition of tooled leather, and
+coaxed out of the shy girl various details about the celebrity, who at
+present had an ambulance in France. She adored reciting, and Miss
+Coniston, to gratify her, offered to recite a poem by Emile Cammaerts
+on the spot.
+
+As to Mr. Mitchell, Madame Frabelle drew him out with more care and
+caution. With the obstinacy of the mistaken she still saw in Mr.
+Mitchell's friendly looks at his hostess a passion for Edith, and shook
+her grey head over the blindness of the poor dear wife.
+
+Bruce hung on her words and was open-mouthed while she spoke, so
+impressed was he at her wonderful cleverness, and at her evident success
+with his friends.
+
+Later on Landi, sitting in the ingle-nook with Edith, said, as he puffed
+a cigar:
+
+'Tiens, ma chère Edith, tu ne vois pas quelque chose?'
+
+'What?'
+
+He always talked French, as a middle course between Italian and English,
+and Edith spoke her own language to him.
+
+'Elle. La Mère Frabelle,' he laughed to himself. 'Elle est folle de ton
+mari!'
+
+'Oh, really, Landi! That's your fancy!'
+
+He mimicked her. 'Farncy! Farncy! Je me suis monté l'imagination,
+peut-être! J'ai un rien de fièvre, sans doute! C'est une idée que j'ai,
+comme ça. Eh bien! Non! Nous verrons. Je te dis qu'elle est amoureuse
+de Bruce.'
+
+'He is very devoted to her, I know,' said Edith, 'and I daresay he's a
+little in love with her--in a way. But she--'
+
+'C'est tout le contraire, chère. Lui, c'est moins; il est flatté. Il la
+trouve une femme intelligente,' he laughed. 'Mais elle! Tu est folle de
+ne pas voir ça, Edith. Enfin! Si ça l'amuse?'
+
+With a laugh he got up, to loud applause, and went to the little white
+enamelled piano. There, with a long cigar in his mouth, he struck a few
+notes, and at once magnetised his audience. The mere touch of his
+fingers on the piano thrilled everyone present.
+
+He sang a composition of his own, which even the piano-organ had never
+succeeded in making hackneyed, 'Adieu, Hiver,' and melodious as only
+Italian music can be. Blue beams flashed from his eyes; he seemed in a
+dream. Suddenly in the most impassioned part, which he was singing in a
+composer's voice, that is, hardly any voice, but with perfect art, he
+caught Madame Frabelle's eye, and gave her a solemn wink. She burst out
+laughing. He then went on singing with sentiment and grace.
+
+All the women present imagined that he was making love to them, while
+each man felt that he, personally, was making love to his ideal woman.
+Such was the effect of Landi's music. It made the most material, even
+the most unmusical, remember some little romance, some _tendresse_, some
+sentiment of the past; Landi seemed to get at the soft spot in
+everybody's heart. All the audience looked dreamy. Edith was thinking of
+Aylmer Ross. Where was he now? Would she ever see him again? Had she
+been wise to throw away her happiness like that? She tried to put the
+thought aside, but she observed, with a smile, that Madame Frabelle
+looked--and not when he was looking at her--a shade tenderly at Bruce.
+
+Edith remembered what Landi had said: 'Si ça l'amuse?' She found an
+opportunity to tell him that Madame Frabelle believed in her own
+intuitions, and had got it into her head that she and Mr. Mitchell were
+attached to one another.
+
+'Naturellement. Elle veut s'excuser; la pauvre.'
+
+'But she really believes it.'
+
+'Elle voit double, alors!' exclaimed Landi.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Edith and Madame Frabelle had long talks next day over the little
+dinner-party, and the people of their intimate circle whom she had met.
+She was delighted with Landi, though a little frightened of him, as most
+people were when they first knew him, unless he really liked them
+immensely.
+
+She impressed on Edith to beware of Mr. Mitchell.
+
+Bruce, for once, had really been satisfied with his own entertainment,
+and declared to Edith that Madame Frabelle had made it go off
+splendidly.
+
+Edith was growing to like her more and more. In a house where Bruce
+lived it was certainly a wonderful help to have a third person often
+present--if it was the right person. The absurd irritations and scenes
+of fault-finding that she had become inured to, but which were always
+trying, were now shorter, milder, or given up altogether. Bruce's temper
+was perennially good, and got better. Then the constant illnesses that
+he used to suffer from--he was unable to pass the military examination
+and go to the front on account of a neurotic heart--these illnesses were
+either omitted entirely or talked over with Madame Frabelle, whose
+advice turned out more successful than that of a dozen specialists.
+
+'An extraordinary woman she is, you know, Edith,' he said. 'You know
+that really peculiar feeling I sometimes have?'
+
+'Which, dear?'
+
+'You know that sort of emptiness in the feet, and heaviness in the head,
+and that curious kind of twitching of the eyelids that I get?'
+
+'Yes, I know. Well, dear?'
+
+'Well, Madame Frabelle has given me a complete cure for it. It seems her
+husband (by the way, what a brute he must have been, and what a life
+that poor woman led! However, never mind that now) had something very
+much of the same kind, only not quite so bad.'
+
+'Which, dear?'
+
+'How do you mean "Which"? Which what?'
+
+'Which peculiar feeling?'
+
+'What peculiar feeling are we talking about?'
+
+'I said, which peculiar feeling did Mr. Frabelle have?'
+
+'What are you trying to get at, Edith?' He looked at her suspiciously.
+
+Edith sighed.
+
+'Was it the heaviness in the feet, or the lightness in the head, or was
+it the twitching of the eyelid which Mr. Frabelle used to suffer from?'
+
+'Oh, ah! Yes, I see what you mean. It seemed he had a little of them
+all. But what do you think she used to do?'
+
+'I haven't the slightest idea.'
+
+'There's some stuff called Tisane--have you ever heard of it?' Bruce
+asked. 'It's a simple remedy, but a very good thing. Well, he used to
+use that.'
+
+'Did he bathe his eye with it?'
+
+'Oh, my dear Edith, you're wool-gathering. Do pull yourself together. He
+drank it, that's what he did, and that's what I'm going to do.
+Eg--Madame Frabelle would go straight down into the kitchen and show you
+how to make it if you like.'
+
+'I don't mind, if cook doesn't,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh, we'll see about that. Anyway she's going to show me how to get it
+made.
+
+'Then there's another thing Madame Frabelle suggested. She's got an idea
+it would do me a world of good to spend a day in the country.'
+
+'Oh, really? Sounds a good idea.'
+
+'Yes. Say, on the river. She's not been there for years it seems. She
+thinks she would rather enjoy it.'
+
+'I should think it would be a capital plan,' said Edith.
+
+'Well, how about next Saturday?' said Bruce, thinking he was concealing
+his eagerness and satisfaction.
+
+'Saturday? Oh yes, certainly. Saturday, by all means, if it's fine. What
+time shall we start?'
+
+He started at once, but was silent.
+
+'Saturday, yes,' Edith went on, after a glance at him. 'Only, I promised
+to take the two children to an afternoon performance.'
+
+'Did you though?' Bruce brightened up. 'Rather hard luck on them to
+disappoint them. Mind you, Edith, I don't believe in spoiling children.
+I don't think their parents should be absolute slaves to them; but, on
+the other hand, I don't think it's good for them to disappoint them
+quite so much as that; and, after all--well, a promise to a child!' He
+shook his head sentimentally. 'Perhaps it's a fad of mine; I daresay it
+is; but I don't like the idea of breaking a promise to a child!'
+
+'It does seem a shame. Too bad.'
+
+'You agree with me? I knew you would. I've heard you say the same
+yourself. Well then, look here, Edith; suppose we do it--suppose you do
+it, I mean. Suppose you go with Archie and Dilly. They're to lunch with
+my mother, aren't they?'
+
+'Yes, dear. But we were to have fetched them from there and then taken
+them on to the theatre!'
+
+'Well, do it, then, my dear girl! Stick to your plan. Don't let me spoil
+your afternoon! Gracious heaven! I--I--why, I can quite well take Madame
+Frabelle myself.' He looked at the barometer. 'The glass is going up,'
+he said, giving it first a tap and then a slight shake to encourage it
+to go up higher and to look sharp about it. 'So that's settled, then,
+dear. That's fixed up. I'll take her on the river. I don't mind in the
+very least. I shall be only too pleased--delighted. Oh, don't thank me,
+my dear girl; I know one ought to put oneself out for a guest,
+especially a widow ... under these circumstances over in England ...
+during the war too ... hang it, it's the least one can do.'... Bruce's
+murmurings were interrupted by the entrance of the lady in question. He
+made the suggestion, and explained the arrangement. She consented
+immediately with much graciousness.
+
+'I dote on the river, and haven't been for years.'
+
+'Now where would you like to go?' he asked. 'What part of the river do
+you like? How about Maidenhead?'
+
+'Oh, any part. Don't ask me! Anything you suggest is sure to be right.
+You know far more about these things than I do. But Maidenhead--isn't it
+just a little commonplace? A little noisy and crowded, even now?'
+
+'By jove, yes, you're quite right. Madame Frabelle's perfectly right,
+Edith, you know. Well, what about Shepperton?'
+
+'Shepperton? Oh, charming! Dear little town. But it isn't exactly what I
+call the river, if you know what I mean. I mean to say--'
+
+'Well, could you suggest a place?' said Bruce.
+
+'Oh, I'm the worst person in the world for suggesting anything,' said
+Madame Frabelle. 'And I know so little of the river. But how about
+Kingston?'
+
+'Kingston? Oh, capital. That would be charming.'
+
+'Kyngestown, as it used to be called' (Madame Frabelle hastened to show
+her knowledge) 'in the days when Saxon kings were crowned there. Am I
+wrong or not? Oh, surely yes.... Wasn't it Kingston? Didn't great Caesar
+cross the river there? And the Roman legions camp upon the
+sloping uplands?'
+
+Bruce gasped. 'You know everything!' he exclaimed.
+
+'Oh no. I remember a little about the history,' she said modestly, 'Ah,
+poor, weak King Edwy!'
+
+'Yes, indeed,' said Bruce, though he had no recollection of having heard
+the gentleman mentioned before. 'Poor chap!'
+
+'Too bad,' murmured Edith.
+
+'How he must have hated that place!' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Rather. I should think so indeed.'
+
+'However, _you_ won't,' said Edith adroitly changing the subject, seeing
+her husband getting deeper out of his depth.
+
+Most of the evening Madame Frabelle read up Baedeker, to the immense
+astonishment of Bruce, who had never before thought of regarding the
+river from the historical and geographical point of view.
+
+The next day, which was fine, if not warm, the two started off with a
+certain amount of bustle and a bundle of rugs, Madame Frabelle in a
+short skirt with a maritime touch about the collar and what she called a
+suitable hat and a dark blue motor veil. She carried off the whole
+costume to admiration.
+
+Archie seemed rather bewildered and annoyed at this division of the
+party.
+
+'But, Mother, we're going out to lunch with grandmother.'
+
+'I know, darling. I'll come and fetch you from there.'
+
+Conventional and restrained as Archie usually was, he sometimes said
+curious things.
+
+Edith saw by his dreamy expression he was going to say one now.
+
+He looked at her for a little while after his father's departure and
+then asked:
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, darling.'
+
+'Is Madame Frabelle a nice little friend for father?'
+
+Edith knew he had often heard her and the nurse or the governess
+discussing whether certain children were nice little friends for him
+or Dilly.
+
+'Oh yes, dear, very nice.'
+
+'Oh.'
+
+The cook came in for orders.
+
+'You're going to lunch all alone then, aren't you, Mother?'
+
+'Yes, I suppose I must. I don't mind. I've got a nice book.'
+
+Archie walked slowly to the door, then said in a tone of envious
+admiration which contained a note of regret:
+
+'I suppose you'll order a delicious pudding?'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She went to fetch the children, who were excited at the prospect of a
+theatre. The elder Mrs Ottley was a pleasant woman, who understood and
+was utterly devoted to her daughter-in-law. Fond as she was of her son,
+she marvelled at Edith's patience and loved her as much as she loved
+Bruce. Though she had never been told, for she was the sort of woman who
+does not require to be told things in order to know them, she knew every
+detail of the sacrifice Edith had once made. She had been almost as
+charmed by Aylmer Ross as her daughter-in-law was, and she had
+considered Edith's action nearly sublime. But she had never believed
+Edith was at that time really in love with Aylmer. She had said, after
+Bruce's return: 'It mustn't happen again, you know, Edith.'
+
+'What mustn't?'
+
+'Don't spoil Bruce. You've made it almost too easy for him. Don't let
+him think he can always be running away and coming back!'
+
+'No, never again,' Edith had answered, with a laugh.
+
+Now they never spoke of the subject. It was a painful one to Mrs Ottley.
+
+Today that lady seemed inclined to detain Edith, and make her--as Archie
+feared--late for the rising of the curtain.
+
+'You really like Madame Frabelle so much, dear?'
+
+'Really I do,' said Edith. 'The more I know her, the more I like her.
+She's the most good-natured, jolly, kind woman I've ever seen. Landi
+likes her too. That's a good sign.'
+
+'And she keeps Bruce in a good temper?' said Mrs Ottley slyly.
+
+'Well, why shouldn't she? I'm not afraid of Madame Frabelle,' Edith
+said, laughing. 'After all, Bruce may be thirty-seven, but she's fifty.'
+
+'She's a wonderful woman,' admitted Mrs. Ottley, who had at first
+disliked her, but had come round, like everyone else. 'Very very nice;
+and really I do like her. But you know my old-fashioned ideas. I never
+approve of a third person living with a married couple.'
+
+'Oh--living! She's only been with us about a month.'
+
+'But you don't think she's going away before the end of the season?'
+
+'You can't call it a season. And she can't easily settle down just now,
+on account of the war. Many of her relations are abroad, and some in the
+country. She hasn't made up her mind where to live yet. She has never
+had a house of her own since her husband died.'
+
+'Yes, I see.'
+
+'Do come, Mother!' urged Archie.
+
+'All right, darling.'
+
+'Will I have to take my hat off?' pouted Dilly, who had on a new hat
+with daisies round it, in which she looked like a baby angel. She had a
+great objection to removing it.
+
+'Yes, dear. Why should you mind?'
+
+'My hair will be all anyhow if I have to take it off in the theatre,'
+said Dilly.
+
+'Don't be a silly little ass,' Archie murmured to his sister. 'Why, in
+some countries women would be sent to prison unless they took their hats
+off at a play!'
+
+The three reached the theatre in what even Archie called good time. This
+meant to be alone in the dark, gloomy theatre for at least twenty
+minutes, no-one present as yet, except two or three people eating
+oranges in the gallery. He liked to be the first and the last.
+
+Edith was fancying to herself how Madame Frabelle would lay down the law
+about the history of Kingston, and read portions of the guide-book
+aloud, while Bruce was pointing out the scenery.
+
+The entertainment, which was all odds and ends, entertained the
+children, but rather bored her. Archie was learning by heart--which was
+a way he had--the words of a favourite song now being sung--
+
+  'Kitty, Kitty, isn't it a pity,
+  In the city you work so hard,--
+  With your one, two, three, four, five,
+  Six, three, seven, five, Cerrard?
+
+  Kitty, Kitty, isn't it a pity,
+  That you're wasting so much time?
+  With your lips close to the telephone,
+  When they might be close to mine_!'
+
+When Edith's eye was suddenly attracted by the appearance of a boy in
+khakis, who was in a box to her right. He looked about seventeen and was
+tall and good-looking; but what struck her about him was his remarkable
+likeness in appearance and in movement to Aylmer Ross. Even his back
+reminded her strongly of her hero. There was something familiar in the
+thick, broad shoulders, in the cool ease of manner, and in the
+expression of the face. But could that young man--why, of course, it was
+three years ago when she parted with Aylmer Ross, Teddy was fourteen;
+these years made a great difference and of course all plans had been
+changed on account of the war. Aylmer, she thought, was too old to have
+been at the front. The boy must be in the New Army.
+
+She watched him perpetually; she felt a longing to go and speak to him.
+After a while, as though attracted by her interest, he turned round and
+looked her straight in the face. How thrilled she felt at this
+likeness.... They were the very last to go out, and Edith contrived to
+be near the party in the box. She dropped something and the young man
+picked it up. She had never seen him, and yet she felt she knew him.
+When he smiled she could not resist speaking to him.
+
+'Thank you. Excuse me. Are you the son of Mr. Aylmer Ross?'
+
+'I am. And I know you quite well by your photograph,' he said in exactly
+Aylmer's pleasant, casual voice. 'You were a great friend of my
+father's, weren't you?'
+
+'Yes. Where are you now?'
+
+He was at Aldershot, but was in town on leave.
+
+'And where's your father?'
+
+'Didn't you know? My father's at the front. He's coming over on leave,
+too, in a fortnight.'
+
+'Really? And are you still at Jermyn Street?'
+
+'Oh yes. Father let his house for three years, but we've come back
+again. Jolly little house, isn't it?'
+
+'Very. And I hope we shall see you both,' said Edith conventionally.
+
+The boy bowed, smiled and walked away so quickly that Archie had no time
+for the salute he had prepared.
+
+He was wonderfully like Aylmer.
+
+Edith was curiously pleased and excited about this little incident.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Madame Frabelle and Bruce arrived at Waterloo in good time for the 11.10
+train, which Bruce had discovered in the ABC.
+
+They wished to know where it started, but nobody appeared interested in
+the subject. Guards and porters, of whom they inquired, seemed surprised
+at their questions and behaved as if they regarded them as signs of
+vulgar and impertinent curiosity. At Waterloo no-one seems to know when
+a train is going to start, where it is starting from, or where it is
+going to. Madame Frabelle unconsciously assumed an air of embarrassment,
+as though she had no responsibility for the queries and excited manner
+of her companion. She seemed, indeed, surprised when Bruce asked to see
+the station-master. Here things came to a head. There was no train for
+Kingston at 11.10; the one at that hour was the Southampton Express; and
+it was worse than useless for Bruce and Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Then the ABC and Bradshaw must both be wrong,' said Bruce reproachfully
+to Madame Frabelle.
+
+An idea occurred to that resourceful lady. 'Perhaps the 11.10 was only
+to start on other days, not on Saturdays.'
+
+She turned out to be right. However, they discovered a train at twenty
+minutes to twelve, which would take them where they wanted, though it
+was not mentioned, apparently, in any timetable, and could only be
+discovered by accident by someone who was looking for something else.
+
+They hung about the station until it arrived, feeling awkward and
+uncomfortable, as people do when they have arrived too early for a
+train. Meanwhile they abused Bradshaw, and discussed the weather. Bruce
+said how wonderful it was how some people always knew what sort of
+weather it was going to be. Madame Frabelle, who was getting
+sufficiently irritable to be epigrammatic, said that she never cared to
+know what the weather was going to be; the weather in England was
+generally bad enough when it came without the added misery of knowing
+about it beforehand.
+
+Bruce complained that she was too Continental. He very nearly said that
+if she didn't like England he wondered she hadn't remained in France,
+but he stopped himself.
+
+At last the train arrived. Bruce had settled his companion with her back
+to the engine in a corner of a first-class carriage, and placed her rugs
+in the rack above. As they will on certain days, every little thing went
+wrong, and the bundle promptly fell off. As she moved to catch it, it
+tumbled on to her hat, nearly crushing the crown. Unconsciously assuming
+the expression of a Christian martyr, Madame Frabelle said it didn't
+matter. Bruce had given her _The Gentlewoman_, _The World_, _The Field_,
+_Punch_, and _The London Mail_ to occupy the twenty-five minutes or so
+while they waited for the train to start. The journey itself was much
+shorter than this interval. Knowing her varied interests, he felt sure
+that these journals would pretty well cover the ground, but he was
+rather surprised, as he took the seat opposite her, to see that she read
+first, in fact instantly started, with apparent interest, on _The London
+Mail_. With a quick glance he saw that she was enjoying 'What Everybody
+Wants to Know'--'Why the Earl of Blank looked so surprised when he met
+the pretty little blonde lady who had been said to be the friend of his
+wife walking in Bond Street with a certain dark gentleman who until now
+he had always understood to be her _bête noire_,' and so forth.
+
+As an example to her he took up _The New Statist_ and read a serious
+article.
+
+When they arrived it was fine and sunny, and they looked at once for a
+boat.
+
+It had not occurred to him before that there would be any difficulty in
+getting one. He imagined a smart new boat all ready for him, with fresh,
+gay cushions, and everything complete and suitable to himself and his
+companion. He was rather irritated when he found instead that the best
+they could do for him was to give him a broken-down, battered-looking
+thing like an old chest, which was to be charged rather heavily for the
+time they meant to spend on the river. It looked far from safe, but it
+was all they could do. So they got in. Bruce meant to show his powers as
+an oarsman. He said Madame Frabelle must steer and asked her to trim
+the boat.
+
+In obedience to his order she sat down with a bang, so heavily that
+Bruce was nearly shot up into the air. Amiable as she always was, and
+respectfully devoted as Bruce was to her, he found that being on the
+river has a mysterious power of bringing out any defects of temper that
+people have concealed when on dry ground. He said to her:
+
+'Don't do that again. Do you mind?' as politely as he could.
+
+She looked up, surprised.
+
+'I beg your pardon, Mr Ottley?'
+
+'Don't do that again.'
+
+'Don't do what? What did I do?'
+
+'Why, I asked you to trim the boat.'
+
+'What did I do? I merely sat down.'
+
+He didn't like to say that she shouldn't sit down with a bump, and took
+his place.
+
+'If you like,' she said graciously, 'I'll relieve you there, presently.'
+
+'How do you mean--relieve me?'
+
+'I mean I'll row--I'll sit in the stern--row!'
+
+'Perhaps you've forgotten the names of the different parts of a boat.
+Madame Frabelle?'
+
+'Oh, I think not, Mr Ottley. It's a good while since I was on the river,
+but it's not the sort of thing one forgets, and I'm supposed to have
+rather a good memory.'
+
+'I'm sure you have--a wonderful memory--still, where I'm sitting is not
+the stern.'
+
+There was a somewhat sulky silence. They admired the scenery of the
+river. Madame Frabelle said she loved the distant glimpses of the grey
+old palace of the Tudors, and asked him if he could imagine what it was
+like when it was gay all day with the clanking of steel and prancing
+horses and things.
+
+'How I love Hampton Court!' she said. 'It looks so quiet and peaceful. I
+think I should like to live there. Think of the evenings in that
+wonderful old place, with its panelled walls, and the echo of feet that
+are no longer there, down the cold, stone corridors--'
+
+Bruce gave a slight laugh.
+
+'Echo of feet that are no longer there? But how could that be? Dear me,
+how poetical you are, Madame Frabelle!'
+
+'I mean the imaginary echo.'
+
+'Imaginary--ah, yes. You're very imaginative, aren't you, Madame
+Frabelle? Well, I don't know whether it's imagination or not, but, do
+you know, I fancy that queer feeling of mine seems to be coming
+on again.'
+
+'What queer feeling?'
+
+'I told you about it, and you were very sympathetic the other night,
+before dinner. A kind of emptiness in the feet, and a hollowness in the
+head, the feeling almost, but not quite, of faintness.'
+
+'It's nearly two o'clock. Perhaps you're hungry,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+Bruce thought this was not fair, putting all the hunger on to him, as if
+she had never felt anything so prosaic. Madame Frabelle always behaved
+as if she were superior to the weaknesses of hunger or sleep, and denied
+ever suffering from either.
+
+'It may be. I had no breakfast,' said Bruce untruthfully, as though it
+were necessary to apologise for requiring food to sustain life.
+
+'Nor did I,' said Madame Frabelle hastily.
+
+'Well, don't you feel that you would like a little lunch?'
+
+'Oh no--oh dear, no. Still, I dare say some food would do you good, Mr
+Ottley--keep you up. I'll come and watch you.'
+
+'But you must have something too.'
+
+'Must I? Oh, very well, just to keep you company.'
+
+They got out very briskly, and, leaving their battered-looking coffin
+(called ironically the _Belle of the River_), they walked with quick
+steps to the nearest hotel. Here they found a selection of large,
+raw-looking cold beef, damp, tired-looking ham, bread, cheese, celery,
+and dessert in the form of dry apples, oranges, and Brazil nuts that had
+long left their native land.
+
+Bruce decided that the right thing to drink was shandy-gaff, but, to
+keep up her Continental reputation, Madame Frabelle said she would like
+a little light wine of the country.
+
+'Red, white, or blue?' asked Bruce, whose spirits were rising.
+
+She laughed very heartily, and decided on a little red.
+
+They had an adequate, if not exquisite, lunch, then Madame Frabelle said
+she would like to go over Hampton Court. A tedious guide offered to go
+with them, but Madame Frabelle said she knew all about the place better
+than he did, so they wandered through the beautiful old palace.
+
+'Oh, to think of King Charles II's beauties living there--those lovely,
+languid ladies--how charming they were!' exclaimed Madame Frabelle.
+
+'They wore very low dresses,' said Bruce, who felt rather sleepy and
+stupid, and as if he didn't quite know what he was saying.
+
+Madame Frabelle modestly looked away from the pictures.
+
+'How exquisite the garden is.'
+
+He agreed, and they went out and sat, somewhat awkwardly, on an
+uncomfortable stone seat.
+
+There was a delicious half-hour of real summer sun--'One of those April
+days that seem a forecast of June,' as Madame Frabelle said.
+
+'How much better it is to be here in the beautiful fresh air than
+squeezed into a stuffy theatre,' remarked Bruce, who was really feeling
+a shade jealous of Edith for seeing the revue that he had wished to see.
+
+'Yes, indeed. There's nothing like England, I think,' she said rather
+irrelevantly.
+
+'How exactly our tastes agree.'
+
+'Do they?'
+
+Her hand was on the edge of the seat. Somehow or other Bruce's had gone
+over it. She didn't appear to notice it.
+
+'What small hands you have!' he remarked.
+
+'Oh no! I take sixes,' said the lady, whose size was really
+three-quarters more than that.
+
+He insisted on looking at the grey suède glove, and then examined her
+rings.
+
+'I suppose these rings have--er--associations for you, Madame Frabelle?'
+
+'Ah!' she said, shaking her head. 'This one--yes, this one--the sapphire
+recalls old memories.' She sighed; she had bought it in the
+Brompton Road.
+
+'A present from your husband, I suppose?' said Bruce, with a tinge of
+bitterness.
+
+'Ah!' she answered.
+
+She thought he was getting a little sentimental, too early in the day,
+and, with an effort at energy, she said:
+
+'Let's go back to the river.'
+
+They went back, and now Bruce began to show off his rowing powers. He
+had not practised for a long time, and didn't get along very quickly.
+She admired his athletic talents, as though he had been a winner of the
+Diamond Sculls.
+
+'If I'd stuck to it, you know,' he said, rather apologetically, 'I'd
+have done well in the rowing line. At one time--a good while ago--I
+thought of going in for Henley, in the Regatta, you know. But with that
+beastly Foreign Office one can't keep up anything of that sort.'
+
+'I suppose not.'
+
+'My muscle,' said Bruce, sticking out his arm, and hitting it rather
+hard, 'is fairly good, you know. Not bad for a London man who never has
+any practice.'
+
+'No indeed.'
+
+'My arm was about seventeen inches round just below the elbow at one
+time,' Bruce said, 'a few years ago.'
+
+'Just fancy! Splendid!' said Madame Frabelle, who remembered that her
+waist was not much more a good while ago.
+
+He told her a good many anecdotes of his prowess in the past, until
+tea-time.
+
+Madame Frabelle depended greatly on tea; anything else she could do
+without. But a cup of tea in the afternoon was necessary to her
+well-being, and her animation. She became rather drowsy and absent by
+four o'clock.
+
+Bruce again suggested their landing and leaving the _Belle of the
+River_, as they had not thought of bringing a tea-basket.
+
+After tea, which was a great success, they became very cheery and jolly.
+They went for a walk and then back to their boat.
+
+This was the happiest time of the day.
+
+When they reached the station, about half-past six, they found a
+disagreeable crowd, pushing, screaming, and singing martial songs. As
+they got into their first-class carriage about a dozen third-class
+passengers sprang in, just as the train started. Bruce was furious, but
+nothing could be done, and the journey back to town was taken with
+Madame Frabelle very nearly pushed on to his knee by a rude young man
+who practically sat on hers, smoking a bad cigarette in her face.
+
+They tacitly agreed to say nothing about this, and got home in time for
+dinner, declaring the day to have been a great success.
+
+Bruce had really enjoyed it. Madame Frabelle said she had; though she
+had a certain little tenderness, half of a motherly kind, for Bruce, she
+far preferred his society in a comfortable house. She didn't really
+think he was the ideal companion for the open air. And he was struck, as
+he had often been before, by her curious way of contradicting herself in
+conversation. She took any side and argued in favour of it so long as it
+was striking or romantic. At one moment she would say with the greatest
+earnestness, for instance, that divorce should not be allowed. Marriage
+should be for ever, or not at all. At another moment she would argue in
+favour of that absurd contradiction in terms known as free love,
+_forgetting_ that she had completely changed round since earlier in the
+conversation. This was irritating, but he was still impressed with her
+infallibility, and Edith remarked more every day how curious that
+infallibility was, and how safe it was to trust. Whenever Madame
+Frabelle knew that something was going to happen, it didn't, and
+whenever she had an intuition that something was going to occur, _then_
+it was pretty safe. It never would. In the same way she had only to look
+at a person to see them as they were not. This was so invariable it was
+really very convenient to have her in the house, for whatever she said
+was always wrong. One had _merely_ to go by contraries and her
+prophecies were most useful.
+
+'It's been jolly for you,' Bruce said to Edith, 'having a ripping time
+in town while I'm taking your visitors about to show them England.'
+
+'You wouldn't have cared for the theatre,' she said. 'But, fancy, I met
+Aylmer's son there--Aylmer Ross, you know. Aylmer himself is at the
+front. They have taken their old house again. He means to come
+back there.'
+
+'Well, I really can't help it,' said Bruce rather fretfully. '_I_ should
+be at the front if it weren't for my neurotic heart. The doctor wouldn't
+hear of passing me--at least one wouldn't. Any fellow who would have
+done so would be--not a careful man. However, I don't know that it
+wouldn't have been just as good to die for my country, and get some
+glory, as to die of heart trouble here.' He sighed.
+
+'Oh no, you won't,' said Edith reassuringly; 'you look the picture of
+health.'
+
+'I've got a bit of sunburn, I think,' said Bruce, popping up to look in
+the glass. 'Funny how I do catch the sun. I asked Dr Pollock about
+it one day.'
+
+'Really--did you consult him about your sunburn?'
+
+'Yes. What are you smiling at, He said it's caused by the extreme
+delicacy of the mucous membrane; nothing to be anxious about.'
+
+'I don't think I am anxious; not particularly. And don't worry, my dear
+boy; it's very becoming,' said Edith.
+
+Bruce patted her head, and gave her a kiss, smiling.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+'We're lunching with the Mitchells today,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh yes. I remember. I'm looking forward to it,' graciously said Madame
+Frabelle. 'It's a pity your husband can't come, isn't it? Ah, you
+naughty girl, I don't believe you think so!' Madame Frabelle, archly
+shook her finger at Edith.
+
+'Eglantine, have you really seriously talked yourself into thinking that
+Mr Mitchell is anything to me?'
+
+'I don't say, dear,' said Madame Frabelle, sitting down comfortably, and
+bringing out her knitting, 'that you yourself are aware of it. I don't
+say that you're in love with him, but that he is devoted to you anyone
+with half-an-eye can see. And some day,' she shook her head, 'some day
+your interest in him may take you by surprise.'
+
+'It is _your_ interest in him that surprises me,' said Edith. 'He's a
+good friend, and we like him very much. But for anything else!--'
+
+'If so, it's really rather wonderful,' mused Eglantine, 'that you've
+never had a thought, even the merest dream, beyond your husband; that it
+has never even occurred to you that anyone else might have suited your
+temperament better.'
+
+Edith dropped her book, and picked it up again. Her friend thought she
+saw, whether through stooping or what not, an increase of colour in
+her face.
+
+'It isn't everyone,' continued Madame Frabelle, 'who would appreciate
+your husband as you do. To me he is a very charming man. I can
+understand his inspiring a feeling almost of motherly interest. I even
+feel sometimes,' she laughed, 'as if it would be a pleasure to look
+after him, take care of him. I think it would not have been a bad thing
+for him to have married a woman a little older than himself. But you,
+Edith, you're so young. You see, you might have made a mistake when you
+married him. You were a mere girl, and I could imagine some of his ways
+might irritate a very young woman.'
+
+After a moment she went on: 'I suppose Bruce was very handsome when you
+married him?'
+
+'Yes, he was. But he hasn't altered much.'
+
+'Yet, as I told you before, Edith, though I think you an ideal wife, you
+don't give me the impression of being in love with him. I hope you don't
+take this as an impertinence, my dear?'
+
+'Not at all. And I'm not sure that I am.'
+
+'Yet your mother-in-law told me the other day that you had been such a
+marvellous wife to him. That you had even made sacrifices. You have
+never had anything to forgive, surely?'
+
+'Oh no, never,' hastily said Edith, fearing that Mrs Ottley was a little
+inclined to be indiscreet.
+
+'She told me that Bruce had been occasionally attracted--only very
+slightly--by other women, but that you were the only person he really
+cared for.'
+
+'Oh, I doubt if he ever thinks much of anyone else,' said Edith.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A characteristic of the Mitchells' entertainments was that one always
+met there the people they had met, even for the first time, at one's own
+house. Here were the Conistons, and Landi, whom Edith was always
+delighted to see.
+
+It was a large and gay lunch. Edith was placed some distance from Mr
+Mitchell. Of course there was also a novelty--some lion or other was
+always at the Mitchells'. Today it consisted of a certain clergyman,
+called the Rev. Byrne Fraser, of whom Mrs Mitchell and her circle were
+making much. He was a handsome, weary-looking man of whom more was
+supposed than could conveniently be said. His wife, who adored him,
+admitted that though he was an excellent husband, he suffered from
+rheumatism and religious doubts, which made him occasionally rather
+trying. There had been some story about him--nobody knew what it was.
+Madame Frabelle instantly took his side, and said she was sure he had
+been ill-treated, though she knew nothing whatever about it. She was
+placed next to him at table and began immediately on what she thought
+was his special subject.
+
+'I understand that you're very modern in your views,' she said, smiling.
+
+'I!' he exclaimed in some surprise. 'Really you are quite mistaken. I
+don't think I am at all.'
+
+'Really? Oh, I'm so glad--I've such a worship myself for tradition. I'm
+so thankful that you have, too.'
+
+'I don't know that I have,' he said.
+
+'It's true, then, what I heard--I felt it was the moment I looked at
+you, Mr Fraser--I mean, that you're an atheist.'
+
+'A _what_?' he exclaimed, turning pale with horror. 'Good heavens,
+Madame, do you know what my profession is?'
+
+He seemed utterly puzzled by her. She managed, all the same, somehow or
+other to lure him into a conversation in which she _heartily_ took his
+side. By the end of lunch they were getting on splendidly, though
+neither of them knew what they were talking about.
+
+And this was one of the curious characteristics of Madame Frabelle.
+Nobody made so many gaffes, yet no-one got out of them so well. To use
+the lawyer's phrase, she used so many words that she managed to engulf
+her own and her interlocutor's ideas. No-one, perhaps, had ever talked
+so much nonsense seriously as she did that day, but the Rev. Byrne
+Fraser said she was a remarkable woman, who had read and thought deeply.
+Also he was enchanted with her interest in him, as everybody always was.
+
+Edith thought she had heard Mr Mitchell saying something to the others
+that interested her. She managed to get near him when the gentlemen
+joined them in the studio, as they called the large room where there was
+a stage, a piano, a parquet floor, and every possible arrangement for
+amusement. Madame Frabelle moved quickly away, supposing that Edith
+wished to speak to him for his sake, whereas really it was in order to
+have repeated something she thought she had heard at lunch.
+
+'Did I hear you saying anything about your old friend, Aylmer Ross?' she
+asked.
+
+'Yes, indeed. Haven't you heard? The poor fellow has been wounded. He
+was taken into hospital at once, fortunately, and he's getting better,
+and is going to be brought home almost immediately, to the same old
+house in Jermyn Street. I think his son is to meet him at the station
+today. We must all go and see him. Capital chap, Aylmer. I always liked
+him. He's travelled so much that--even before the war--I hadn't seen him
+for three years.'
+
+'Was the wound serious?' asked Edith, who had turned pale.
+
+'They were anxious at first. Now he's out of danger. But, poor chap, I'm
+afraid he won't be able to move for a good while. His leg is broken. I
+hear he's got to be kept lying down two or three months.'
+
+'Qu'est ce qu'il y a, Edith?' asked Landi, who joined her.
+
+'I've just heard some bad news,' she said, 'but don't speak about it.'
+
+She told him.
+
+'Bien. Du calme, mon enfant; du calme!'
+
+'But, I'm anxious, Landi.'
+
+'Ca se voit!'
+
+'Do you think--'
+
+'Ce ne sera rien. It's the best thing that could happen to him. He'll be
+all right.... I suppose you want to see him, Edith?'
+
+'He may not wish to see me,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh yes, he will. You were the first person he thought of,' answered
+Landi. 'Why, my dear, you forget you treated him badly!'
+
+'Then, if he'd treated _me_ badly he wouldn't care to see me again, you
+mean?'
+
+'C'est probable,' said Landi, selecting with care a very large cigar
+from a box that was being handed round. 'Now, be quite tranquil. I shall
+go and see him directly I leave here, and I'll let you hear every
+detail. Will that do?'
+
+'Thanks, dear Landi!... But even if he wishes to see me, ought I to
+go?'
+
+'That I don't know. But you will.'
+
+He lighted the long cigar.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Next morning Edith, who always came down to breakfast, though somewhat
+late, found on her plate a letter from Lady Conroy, that most vague and
+forgetful of all charming Irishwomen. It said:
+
+'My DEAR MRS OTTLEY,
+
+Do excuse my troubling you, but could you give me a little information?
+Someone has asked me about Madame Frabelle. I know that she is a friend
+of yours, and is staying with you, and I said so; also I have a sort of
+idea that she was, in some way, connected with you by marriage or
+relationship, but of that I was not quite sure. I fancy that it is due
+to you that I have the pleasure of knowing her, anyhow.
+
+'Could you tell me who she was before she married? What her husband was,
+and anything else about her? That she is most charming and a very clever
+woman I know, of course, already. To say she is a friend of yours is
+enough to say that, but the rest I forget.
+
+'Hoping you will forgive my troubling you, and that you are all very
+well, I remain, yours most sincerely.
+
+'KATHLEEN CONROY
+
+'P.S.--I began to take some lessons in nursing when I came across a most
+charming and delightful girl, called Dulcie Clay. Do you happen to know
+her at all? Her father married again and she was not happy at home, and,
+having no money, she went in for nursing, seriously (not as I did), but
+I'm afraid she is not strong enough for the profession. Remember me to
+Madame Frabelle.'
+
+Edith passed the letter to Bruce.
+
+'Isn't this too delightful?' she said; 'and exactly like her? She sends
+Madame Frabelle to me with a letter of introduction, and then asks me
+who she is!'
+
+'Well,' said Bruce, who saw nothing of the absurdity of the situation,
+'Lady Conroy is a most charming person. It looks almost as if she wanted
+to decline responsibility. I wouldn't annoy her for the world. You must
+give her all the information she wants, of course.'
+
+'But all I know I only know from her.'
+
+'Exactly. Well, tell her what she told you. Madame Frabelle told us
+candidly she made her acquaintance at the hotel! But it's absurd to tell
+Lady Conroy that back! We can't!'
+
+Edith found the original letter of introduction, after some searching,
+and wrote to Lady Conroy to say that she understood Madame Frabelle, who
+was no connection of hers, was a clever, interesting woman, who wished
+to study English life in her native land. She was '_of good family; she
+had been a Miss Eglantine Pollard, and was the widow of a well-to-do
+French wine merchant_.' (This was word for word what Lady Conroy had
+told her.) She went on to say that she '_believed Madame Frabelle had
+several friends and connections in London_.'
+
+'The Mitchells, for instance,' suggested Bruce.
+
+'Yes, that's a good idea. "_She knows the Mitchells very well_,"' Edith
+went on writing. '"_I think you know them also; they are very great
+friends of ours. Mr Mitchell is in the Foreign Office_."'
+
+'And the Conistons?' suggested Bruce.
+
+'Yes. "_She knows the Conistons; the nice young brother and sister we
+are so fond of. She has other friends in London, I believe, but she has
+not troubled to look them up. The more one sees of her the more one
+likes her. She is most charming and amiable and makes friends wherever
+she goes. I don't think I know anything more than this, dear Lady
+Conroy. Yours very sincerely, Edith Ottley. P.S.--I have not met Miss
+Dulcie Clay_."'
+
+Bruce was satisfied with this letter. Edith herself thought it the most
+amusing letter she had ever written.
+
+'The clergyman whom she met at lunch yesterday, by the way,' said Bruce,
+'wouldn't it sound well to mention him?'
+
+Edith good-naturedly laughed, and added to the letter: '"_The Rev. Byrne
+Fraser knows our friend also, and seems to like her_."'
+
+'The only thing is,' said Bruce, after a moment's pause, 'perhaps that
+might do her harm with Lady Conroy, although he's a clergyman. There
+have been some funny stories about the Rev. Byrne Fraser.'
+
+'He certainly liked her,' said Edith. 'He wrote her a long letter last
+night, after meeting her at lunch, to go on with their argument, or
+conversation, or whatever it was, and she's going to hear him preach
+on Sunday.'
+
+'Do you feel she would wish Lady Conroy to know that she's a friend of
+the Rev. Byrne Fraser?' asked Bruce.
+
+'Oh, I think so; or I wouldn't have said it.'
+
+Edith was really growing more and more loyal in her friendship. There
+certainly was something about Madame Frabelle that everybody, clever and
+stupid alike, seemed to be attracted by.
+
+Later Edith received a telephone call from Landi. He told her that he
+had seen Aylmer, who was going on well, that he had begged to see her,
+and had been allowed by his doctor and nurse to receive a visit from her
+on Saturday next. He said that Aylmer had been agitated because his boy
+was going almost immediately to the front. He seemed very pleased at the
+idea of seeing her again.
+
+Edith looked forward with a certain excitement to Saturday.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A day or two later Edith received a letter from Lady Conroy, saying:
+
+'MY DEAR EDITH,
+
+Thank you so much for your nice letter. I remember now, of course,
+Madame Frabelle was a friend of the Mitchells, whom I know so well, and
+like so much. What dears they are! Please remember me to them. I knew
+that she had a friend who was a clergyman, but I wasn't quite sure who
+it was. I suppose it must have been this Mr Fraser. She was a Miss
+Pollard, you know, a very good family, and, as I always understood, the
+more one knows of her the better one likes her.
+
+'Thanks again for your note. I am longing to see you, and shall call
+directly I come to London. Ever yours,
+
+'KATHLEEN CONROY
+
+'P.S.--Madame F's husband was a French wine merchant, and a very
+charming man, I believe. By the way, also, she knows the Conistons, I
+believe, and no doubt several people we both know. Miss Clay has gone to
+London with one of her patients.'
+
+Bruce didn't understand why Edith was so much amused by this letter, nor
+why she said that she should soon write and ask Lady Conroy who Madame
+Frabelle was, and that she would probably answer that she was a great
+friend of Edith's and of the Mitchells, and the Rev. Byrne Fraser.
+
+'She seems a little doubtful about Fraser, doesn't she?' Bruce said.
+
+'I mean Lady Conroy. Certainly she's got rather a funny memory; she
+doesn't seem to have the slightest idea that she sent her to you with a
+letter of introduction. Now we've taken all the responsibility on
+ourselves.'
+
+'Well, really I don't mind,' said Edith. 'What does it matter? There's
+obviously no harm in Madame Frabelle, and never could have been.'
+
+'She's a very clever woman,' said Bruce. 'I'm always interested when I
+hear what she has to say about people. I don't mind telling you that I'm
+nearly always guided by it.'
+
+'So am I,' said Edith.
+
+Indeed Edith did sincerely regard her opinion as very valuable. She
+found her so invariably wrong that she was quite a useful guide. She was
+never quite sure of her own judgement until Madame Frabelle had
+contradicted it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Edith went to call on Aylmer in the little brown house in Jermyn
+Street, she was shown first into the dining-room.
+
+In a few minutes a young girl dressed as a nurse came in to speak to
+her.
+
+She seemed very shy and spoke in a soft voice.
+
+'I'm Miss Clay,' she said. 'I've been nursing for the last six months,
+but I'm not very strong and was afraid I would have to give it up when I
+met Mr Ross at Boulogne. He was getting on so well that I came back to
+look after him and I shall stay until he is quite well, I think.'
+
+Evidently this was the Dulcie Clay Lady Conroy had mentioned. Edith was
+much struck by her. She was a really beautiful girl, with but one slight
+defect, which some people perhaps, would have rather admired--her skin
+was rather too dark, and a curious contrast to her beautiful blue eyes.
+As a rule the combination of blue eyes and dark hair goes with a fair
+complexion. Dulcie Clay had a brown skin, clear and pale, such as
+usually goes with the Spanish type of brunette. But for this curious
+darkness, which showed up her dazzling white teeth, she was quite
+lovely. It was a sweet, sensitive face, and her blue eyes, with long
+eyelashes like little feathers, were charming in their soft expression.
+Her smile was very sweet, though she had a look of melancholy. There was
+something touching about her.
+
+She was below the usual height, slight and graceful. Her hair, parted in
+the middle, was arranged in the Madonna style in two thick natural waves
+each side of her face.
+
+She had none of the bustling self-confidence of the lady nurse, but was
+very gentle and diffident. Surely Aylmer must be in love with her,
+thought Edith.
+
+Then Miss Clay said, in her low voice:
+
+'You are Mrs Ottley, aren't you? I knew you at once.'
+
+'Did you? How was that?'
+
+A little colour came into the pale, dark face.
+
+'Mr Ross has a little photograph of you,' she said, 'and once when he
+was very ill he gave me your name and address and asked me to send it to
+you if anything happened.'
+
+As she said that her eyes filled with tears.
+
+'Oh, but he'll be all right now, won't he?' asked Edith, with a feeling
+of sympathy for Miss Clay, and a desire to cheer the girl.
+
+'Yes, I think he'll be all right now,' she said. 'Do come up.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+It was a curious thing about Madame Frabelle that, though she was
+perfectly at ease in any society, and really had seen a good deal of the
+world, all her notions of life were taken from the stage. She looked
+upon existence from the theatrical point of view. Everyone was to her a
+hero or a heroine, a villain or a victim. To her a death was a
+_dénouement_; a marriage a happy ending. Had she known the exact
+circumstances in which Edith went to see the wounded hero, Madame
+Frabelle's dramatic remarks, the obvious observations which she would
+have showered on her friend, would have been quite unendurable.
+Therefore Edith chose to say merely that she was going to see an old
+friend, so as not to excite her friend's irritable imagination by any
+hint of sentiment or romance on the subject.
+
+During her absence in the afternoon, it happened that Mrs Mitchell had
+called, with a lady whom she had known intimately since Tuesday, so she
+was quite an old friend. Madame Frabelle had received them together in
+Edith's place. On her return Madame Frabelle was full of the stranger.
+She had, it seemed been dressed in bright violet, and did nothing but
+laugh. Whether it was that everything amused her, or merely that
+laughter was the only mode she knew of expressing all her sentiments,
+impressions and feelings, Madame Frabelle was not quite sure. Her name
+was Miss Radford, and she was thirty-eight. She had very red cheeks, and
+curly black hair. She had screamed with laughter from disappointment at
+hearing Mrs Ottley was out; and shrieked at hearing that Madame Frabelle
+had been deputed to receive them in her place. Mrs Mitchell had
+whispered that she was a most interesting person, and Madame Frabelle
+thought she certainly was. It appeared that Mrs Mitchell had sent the
+motor somewhere during their visit, and by some mistake it was a long
+time coming back. This had caused peals of laughter from Miss Radford,
+and just as they had made up their minds to walk home the motor arrived,
+so she went away with Mrs Mitchell, giggling so much she could
+hardly stand.
+
+Miss Radford also had been highly amused by the charming way the boudoir
+was furnished, and had laughed most heartily at the curtains and the
+pictures. Edith was sorry to have missed her. She was evidently a
+valuable discovery, one of their new treasures, a rare _trouvaille_ of
+the Mitchells.
+
+Madame Frabelle then told Edith and Bruce that she had promised to dine
+with the Mitchells one day next week. Edith was pleased to find that
+Eglantine, and also Bruce, who had by now returned home, were so full of
+Mrs Mitchell's visit and invitation, that neither of them asked her a
+single question about Aylmer, and appeared to have completely forgotten
+all about him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As Madame Frabelle left them for a moment, Edith observed a cloud of
+gloom over Bruce's expressive countenance. He said:
+
+'Well, really! Upon my word! This is a bit too much! Mind you, I'm not
+at all surprised. In fact, I always expected it. But it is a bit of a
+shock, isn't it, when you find old friends throwing you over like this?'
+
+He walked up and down, much agitated, repeating the same thing in
+different words: that he had never been so surprised in his life; that
+it was what he had always known would happen; that it was a great shock,
+and he had always expected it.
+
+At last Edith said: 'I don't see anything so strange about it, Bruce.
+It's natural enough they should have asked her.'
+
+'Oh, is it? How would they ever have known her but for us?'
+
+'How could they ask her without knowing her? Besides we went there last.
+We lunched with them only the other day.'
+
+'That's not the point. You have missed the point entirely.
+Unfortunately, you generally do. You have, in the most marked way, a
+woman's weakness, Edith. You're incapable of arguing logically. I
+consider it a downright slight; no, not so much a slight as an
+insult--perhaps injury is the _mot juste_--to take away our guest and
+not ask us. Not that I should have gone. I shouldn't have dreamed of
+going, in any case. For one thing we were there last; we lunched there
+only the other day. Besides, we're engaged to dine with my mother.'
+
+'Mrs Mitchell knew that; that's why she asked Madame Frabelle because
+she would be alone.'
+
+'Oh, how like you, Edith! Always miss the point--always stick up for
+everyone but me! You invariably take the other side. However, perhaps it
+is all for the best; it's just as well. Nothing would have induced me to
+have gone--even if I hadn't been engaged, I mean. I'm getting a bit
+tired of the Mitchells; sick of them. Their tone is frivolous. And if
+they'd pressed me ever so much, nothing in the world would have made me
+break my promise to my mother.'
+
+'Well, then, it's all right. Why complain?'
+
+Bruce continued, however, in deep depression till they received a
+message from the Mitchells, asking Edith if she and her husband couldn't
+manage to come, all the same, if they were not afraid of offending the
+elder Mrs Ottley. They could go to Bruce's mother at any time, and the
+Mitchells particularly wanted them to meet some people tomorrow night--a
+small party, unexpectedly got up.
+
+'Of course you won't go,' said Edith to Bruce from the telephone. 'You
+said you wouldn't under any circumstances. I'll refuse, shall I?'
+
+'No--no, don't! Certainly not! Of course I shall go. Accept immediately.
+They're quite right, it is perfectly true we can go to my mother any
+other day. Besides, I don't think it's quite fair to old friends like
+the Mitchells to throw them over when they particularly want us and ask
+us as a special favour to them, like this.'
+
+'You don't think, perhaps, that somebody else has disappointed them, and
+they asked us at the last minute, to fill up?' suggested Edith, to whom
+this was perfectly obvious.
+
+Bruce was furious at this suggestion.
+
+'Certainly not!' he exclaimed. 'The idea of such a thing. As if they
+would treat me like that! Decidedly we will go.'
+
+'All right,' she said, 'just as you wish. But your mother will be
+disappointed.'
+
+Bruce insisted. Of course the invitation was accepted, and once again he
+was happy!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And at last Edith was able to be alone, and to think over her meeting
+with Aylmer. A dramatic meeting under romantic circumstances between two
+people of the Anglo-Saxon race always appears to fall a little flat;
+words are difficult to find. When she went in, to find him looking thin
+and weak, pale under his sunburn, changed and worn, she was deeply
+thrilled and touched. It brought close to her the simple, heroic manner
+in which so many men are calmly risking their lives, taking it as a
+matter of course, and as she knew for a fact that he was forty-two and
+had gone into the New Army at the very beginning of the war, she was
+aware he must have strained a point in order to join. She admired
+him for it.
+
+He greeted her with that bright expression in his eyes and with the
+smile that she had always liked so much, which lighted up like a ray of
+sunshine the lean, brown, somewhat hard, face.
+
+She sat down by his side, and all she could think of to say was: 'Well,
+Aylmer?'
+
+He answered: 'Well, Edith! Here you are.'
+
+He took her hand, and she left it in his. Then they sat in silence,
+occasionally broken by an obvious remark.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When he had left three years ago both had parted in love, and Aylmer in
+anger. He had meant never to see her again, never to forgive her for her
+refusal to use Bruce's escapade as a means of freeing herself, to marry
+him. Yet now, when they met they spoke the merest commonplaces. And
+afterwards neither of them could ever remember what had passed between
+them during the visit. She knew it was short, and that it had left an
+impression that calmed her. Somehow she had thought of him so much that
+when she actually saw him again her affection seemed cooler. Had she
+worn out the passion by dint of constancy? That must be strange.
+Unaccountably, touched as she was at his wishing to see her just after
+he had nearly died, the feeling now seemed to be more like a warm
+friendship, and less like love.
+
+The little nurse had seen her out. Edith saw that she had been crying.
+Evidently she was quite devoted to Aylmer, and, poor girl, she probably
+regarded Edith as a rival. But Edith would not be one, of that she was
+determined. She wondered whether their meeting had had the same effect
+on Aylmer. She thought he had shown more emotion than she had.
+
+'He will be better now,' Dulcie Clay had said to her at the door.
+'Please come again, Mrs Ottley.'
+
+Edith thought that generous.
+
+It seemed to her that Dulcie was as frank and open as a child. Edith, at
+any rate, could read her like a book. It made her feel sorry for the
+girl. As Edith analysed her own feelings she wondered why she had felt
+no jealousy of her--only gratitude for her goodness to Aylmer.
+
+All her sensations were confused. Only one resolution was firm in her
+mind. Whether he wished it or not, they should never be on the terms
+they were before. It could only lead to the same ending--to unhappiness.
+No; after all these years of separation, Edith would be his friend, and
+only his friend. Of that she was resolved.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+'Lady Conroy,' said Bruce thoughtfully, at breakfast next day, 'is a
+very strict Roman Catholic.'
+
+Bruce was addicted to volunteering information, and making unanswerable
+remarks.
+
+Madame Frabelle said to Edith in a low, earnest tone:
+
+'Pass me the butter, dear,' and looked attentively at Bruce.
+
+'I sometimes think I shouldn't mind being one myself,' Bruce continued;
+'I should rather like to eat fish on Fridays.'
+
+'But you like eating fish on Thursdays,' said Edith.
+
+'And Mr Ottley never seems to care very much for meat.'
+
+'Unless it's particularly well cooked--in a particular way,' said Edith.
+
+'Fasts,' said Madame Frabelle rather pompously, 'are meant for people
+who like feasts.'
+
+'How true!' He gave her an admiring glance.
+
+'I should not mind confessing, either,' continued Bruce, 'I think I
+should rather like it.'
+
+(He thought he was having a religious discussion.)
+
+'But you always do confess,' said Edith, 'not to priests, perhaps, but
+to friends; to acquaintances, at clubs, to girls you take in to dinner.
+You don't call it confessing, you call it telling them a curious thing
+that you happen to remember.'
+
+'He calls it conversing,' said Madame Frabelle. She then gave a slight
+flippant giggle, afterwards correcting it by a thoughtful sigh.
+
+'The Rev. Byrne Fraser, of course, is very High Church,' Bruce said. 'I
+understood he was Anglican. By the way, was Aylmer Ross a Roman
+Catholic?'
+
+'I think he is.'
+
+Bruce having mentioned his name, Edith now told him the news about her
+visit to their friend. Bruce liked good news--more, perhaps, because it
+was news than because it was good--yet the incident seemed to put him in
+a rather bad temper. He was sorry for Aylmer's illness, glad he was
+better, proud of knowing him, or, indeed, of knowing anyone who had been
+publicly mentioned; and jealous of the admiration visible in both Edith
+and Madame Frabelle. This medley of feeling resulted in his taking up a
+book and saying:
+
+'Good heavens! Again I've found you've dog's-eared my book, Edith!'
+
+'I only turned down a page,' she said gently.
+
+'No, you haven't; you've dog's-eared it. It's frightfully irritating,
+dear, how you take no notice of my rebukes or my comments. Upon my word,
+what I say to you seems to go in at one ear and out at the other, just
+like water on a duck's back.'
+
+'How does the water on a duck's back get into the dog's ears?--I mean
+the duck's ears. Oh, I'm sorry. I won't do it again.'
+
+Bruce sighed, flattened out the folded page and left the room with quiet
+dignity, but caught his foot in the mat. Both ladies ignored
+the accident.
+
+When he had gone, Madame Frabelle said:
+
+'Poor Edith!'
+
+'Bruce is only a little tidy,' said Edith.
+
+'I know. My husband was dreadfully untidy, which is much worse.'
+
+'I suppose they have their faults.'
+
+'Oh, men are all alike!' exclaimed Madame Frabelle cynically.
+
+'Only some men,' said Edith. 'Besides, to a woman--I mean, a nice
+woman--there is no such thing as men. There is a man; and either she is
+so fond of him that she can talk of nothing else, however unfavourably,
+or so much in love with him that she never mentions his name.'
+
+'Men often say women are all alike,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'When a man says that, he means there is only one woman in the world,
+and he's in love with her, and she is not in love with him.'
+
+'Men are not so faithful as women,' remarked Madame Frabelle, with the
+air of a discovery.
+
+'Perhaps not. And yet--well, I think the difference is that a man is
+often more in love with the woman he is unfaithful to than with the
+woman he is unfaithful with. With us it is different.... Madame
+Frabelle, I think I'll take Archie with me today to see Aylmer Ross.
+Tell Bruce so, casually; and will you come with me another day?'
+
+'With the greatest pleasure,' said Madame Frabelle darkly, and with an
+expressive look. (Neither she nor Edith had any idea what it expressed.)
+
+Edith found Aylmer wonderfully better. The pretty little nurse with the
+dark face and pale blue eyes told her he had had a peaceful night and
+had bucked up tremendously. He was seated in an arm-chair with one leg
+on another chair, and with him was Arthur Coniston, a great admirer
+of his.
+
+It was characteristic of Aylmer, the moment he was able, to see as many
+friends as he was allowed. Aylmer was a very gregarious person,
+though--or perhaps because--he detested parties. He liked company, but
+hated society. Arthur Coniston, who always did his best to attract
+attention by his modest, self-effacing manner, was sitting with his
+handsome young head quite on one side from intense respect for his host,
+whom he regarded with the greatest admiration as a man of culture, and a
+judge of art. He rejoiced to be one of the first to see him, just
+returned after three years' absence from England, and having spent the
+last three months at the front.
+
+Arthur Coniston (also in khaki), who was a born interviewer, was anxious
+to know Aylmer's impression of certain things over here, after his
+long absence.
+
+'I should so very much like to know,' he said, 'what your view is of the
+attitude to life of the Post-Impressionists.'
+
+Aylmer smiled. He said: 'I think their attitude to life, as you call it,
+is best expressed in some of Lear's Nonsense Rhymes: "_His Aunt Jobiska
+said, 'Everyone knows that a pobble is better without his toes_.'"'
+
+Archie looked up in smiling recognition of these lines, and Edith
+laughed.
+
+'Excuse me, but I don't quite follow you,' said young Coniston gravely.
+
+'Why, don't you see? Of course, Lear is the spirit they express. A
+portrait by a post-Impressionist is sure to be "A Dong with a luminous
+nose." And don't you remember, "_The owl and the pussycat went to sea in
+a beautiful pea-green boat_"? Wouldn't a boat painted by a
+Post-Impressionist be pea-green?'
+
+'Perfectly. I see that. But--why the pobble without its toes?'
+
+'Why, the sculptor always surrenders colour, and the painted form. Each
+has to give up something for the limitation of art. But the more modern
+artist gives up much more--likeness, beauty, a few features here and
+there--a limb now and then.'
+
+'Ah yes. I quite see what you mean. Like the statuary of Rodin or
+Epstein. One sees really only half the form, as if growing out of the
+sketchy sculpture. And then there's another thing--I hope I'm not
+wearying you?'
+
+'No, indeed. It's great fun: such a change to hear about this sort of
+thing again.'
+
+'The Futurists?' asked Arthur. 'What is your view of them?'
+
+'Well, of course, they are already past, They always were. But I should
+say their attitude to life is that of the man who is looking at the moon
+reflected in a lake, but can't see it; he sees the reflection of a
+coal-scuttle instead.'
+
+'Ah yes. They see things wrong, you mean. They're not so real, not so
+logical, as the Post-Impressionists.'
+
+'Yes, the Futurist is off the rails entirely, and he seems to see hardly
+anything but railways. But all that noisy nonsense of the Futurists
+always bored me frightfully,' Aylmer said. 'Affectation for affectation,
+I prefer the pose of depression and pessimism to that of bullying and
+high spirits. When the affected young poet pretended to be used up and
+worn out, one knew there was vitality under it all. But when I see a
+cheerful young man shrieking about how full of life he is, banging on a
+drum, and blowing on a tin trumpet, and speaking of his good spirits, it
+depresses me, since naturally it gives the contrary impression. It can't
+be real. It ought to be but it isn't. If the noisy person meant what he
+said, he wouldn't say it.'
+
+'I see. The modern _poseurs_ aren't so good as the old ones. Odle is not
+so clever as Beardsley.'
+
+'Of course not. Beardsley had the gift of line--though he didn't always
+know where to draw it--but his illustrations to Wilde's work were
+unsuitable, because Beardsley wanted everything down in black and white,
+and Wilde wanted everything in purple and gold. But both had their
+restraints, and their pose was reserve, not flamboyance.'
+
+'I think you mean that if people are so sickening as to have an
+affectation at all, you would rather they kept it quiet,' said Edith.
+
+'Exactly! At least, it brings a smile to one's lips to see a very young
+man pretend he is bored with life. I have often wondered what the answer
+would be from one of these chaps, and what he would actually say, if you
+held a loaded pistol to his head--I mean the man who says he doesn't
+think life worth living.'
+
+'What do you think he would say?' asked Coniston.
+
+'He would scream: "Good heavens! What are you doing? Put that down!"'
+said Edith.
+
+'She's right,' said Aylmer. 'She always is.'
+
+Dulcie came in and brought tea.
+
+'I hope we're not tiring him,' Edith asked her.
+
+'Oh no. I think it does him good. He enjoys it.'
+
+She sat down with Archie and talked to him gently in the corner.
+
+'After living so much among real things,' Coniston was saying, 'one
+feels half ashamed to discuss our old subjects.'
+
+However, he and Aylmer continued to talk over books and pictures,
+Coniston hanging on his lips as though afraid of missing or forgetting a
+word he said.
+
+Presently Edith told Aylmer about their new friend, Madame Frabelle. He
+was very curious to see her.
+
+'What is she like?' he asked. 'I can't imagine her living with you. Is
+she a skeleton at the feast?'
+
+'A skeleton!' exclaimed Coniston. 'Good heavens--no! Quite the
+contrary.'
+
+'A skeleton who was always feasting would hardly remain one long,'
+suggested Edith.
+
+'Anyhow,' said Aylmer, 'the cupboard is the proper place for a
+skeleton.'
+
+Archie had joined the group round Aylmer. Edith sat in a corner for some
+time, chatting with Dulcie. They arranged that Bruce was to call the
+next day, and Edith and Madame Frabelle the day after.
+
+When they went away Archie, who had listened very closely to the
+conversation, said:
+
+'What a lot of manners Mr Coniston has! What did he mean by saying that
+Spanish painters painted a man in a gramophone?'
+
+Edith racked her brain to remember the sentence. Then she said, with a
+laugh:
+
+'Oh yes, I know! Mr Coniston said: "The Spanish artists painted--to a
+man--in monochrome." I can't explain it, Archie. It doesn't matter. Why
+did you leave Miss Clay and come back to us?'
+
+'Why, I like her all right, but you get tired of talking to women. I get
+bored with Dilly sometimes.'
+
+'Then you're looking forward to going back to school?'
+
+'I shall like the society of boys of my own sex again,' he said grandly.
+
+'You're not always very nice to Dilly, Archie. I've noticed when
+anything is given to her, you always snatch at it. You must remember
+Ladies first.'
+
+'Yes, that's all very well. But then Dilly takes it all, and only gives
+me what's left.'
+
+Archie looked solemn.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+'Edith,' said Bruce, next morning, with some importance of manner, 'I've
+had a letter from Aylmer--Aylmer Ross, you know--asking me, _most_
+particularly, to call on him.'
+
+'Oh, really,' said Edith, who knew it already, as she had asked him to
+write to Bruce.
+
+'He wants me to come at half-past four,' said Bruce, looking over the
+letter pompously. 'Four-thirty, to the minute. I shall certainly do it.
+I shan't lose a minute.'
+
+'I'm afraid you'll have to lose a few minutes,' said Edith. 'It's only
+ten o'clock.'
+
+Bruce stared at her, folded up the letter, and put it in his pocket. He
+thought it would be a suitable punishment for her not to see it.
+
+Obviously he was not in the best of humours. Not being sure what was
+wrong, Edith adopted the simple plan of asking what he meant.
+
+'What do I mean!' exclaimed Bruce, who, when his grievances, were vague,
+relied on such echoes for his most cutting effects. 'You ask me what I
+mean? Mean, indeed!' He took some toast and repeated bitterly: 'Ah! You
+may well ask me what I mean!'
+
+'May I? Well, what were the observations you didn't approve of?'
+
+'Why ... what you said. About several minutes being lost before
+half-past four.'
+
+'Oh, Bruce dear, I didn't mean any harm by it.'
+
+'Harm, indeed!' repeated Bruce. 'Harm! It isn't a question of actual
+harm. I don't say that you meant to injure me, nor even, perhaps, to
+hurt my feelings. But it's a way of speaking--a tone--that I think
+extremely _déplacé_, from you to me. Do you follow me, Edith? From
+_you_ to _me_.'
+
+'That's a dark saying. Well, whatever I said I take it back, if you
+don't like it. Will that do?'
+
+Bruce was mollified, but wouldn't show it at once.
+
+'Ah,' he said, 'that's all very well. These sort of things are not so
+easily taken back. You should think before you speak. Prevention is
+better than cure.'
+
+'Yes, and a stitch in time saves nine--though it doesn't rhyme. And it's
+no good crying over spilt milk, and two heads are better than one. But,
+really, Bruce, I didn't mean it.'
+
+'What didn't you mean?'
+
+'Good heavens, I really don't know by now! I'm afraid I've utterly
+forgotten what we were talking about,' said Edith, looking at the door
+with some anxiety.
+
+She was hoping that Madame Frabelle would soon come down and cause a
+diversion.
+
+'Look here, Edith,' said Bruce, 'when an old friend, an old friend of
+yours and mine, and at one time a very intimate friend--next door to a
+brother--when such a friend as that has been wounded at the front,
+fighting for our country--and, mind you, he behaved with remarkable
+gallantry, for it wasn't really necessary for him to go, as he was
+beyond the age--well, when a friend does a thing like that, and comes
+back wounded, and writes, with his own hand, asking me to go and see
+him--well, I think it's the least I can do! I don't know what _you_
+think. It seems to _me_ the right thing. If you disagree with me I'm
+very sorry. But, frankly, it appears to me that I ought to go.'
+
+'Who could doubt it?'
+
+'Read the letter for yourself,' said Bruce, suddenly taking it out of
+his pocket and giving it to her. 'There, you see. "Dear Ottley,"
+he says.'
+
+Here Bruce went to her side of the table and leant over her, reading the
+letter aloud to her over her shoulder, while she was reading it
+to herself.
+
+'"DEAR OTTLEY,--If you could look in tomorrow about half-past four, I
+should be very glad to see you. Yours sincerely, AYLMER ROSS." Fairly
+cordial, I think, isn't it? Or not? Perhaps you think it cold. Would you
+call it a formal letter?'
+
+Bruce took the letter out of her hand and read it over again to himself.
+
+'Very nice, dear,' said Edith.
+
+'So I thought.' He put it away with a triumphant air.
+
+Edith was thinking that the writing was growing stronger. Aylmer must be
+better.
+
+'I say, I hope it isn't a sign he's not so well, that he wants to see
+me. I don't call it a good sign. He's depressed. He thinks I'll
+cheer him up.'
+
+'And I'm sure you will. Ah, here's Madame Frabelle.'
+
+'I'm afraid I'm a little late,' said their guest, with her amiable
+smile.
+
+'Oh dear, no--not at all, not at all,' said Bruce, who was really much
+annoyed at her unpunctuality. 'Of course, if you'd been a minute later I
+shouldn't have had the pleasure of seeing you at all before I went to
+the office--that's all. And what does that matter? Good heavens,
+_that's_ of no importance! Good gracious, this is Liberty Hall, I
+hope--isn't it? I should be very sorry for my guests to feel tied in any
+way--bound to be down at any particular time. Will you have some coffee?
+Edith, give Madame Frabelle a cup of coffee. Late? Oh dear, no;
+certainly not!' He gave a short, ironical laugh.
+
+'Well, I think I'm generally fairly punctual,' said Madame Frabelle,
+beginning her breakfast without appearing to feel this sarcasm. 'What
+made me late this morning was that Archie and Dilly came into my room
+and asked me to settle a kind of dispute they were having.'
+
+'They regard you quite as a magistrate,' said Edith. 'But it was too bad
+of them to come and bother you so early.'
+
+'Oh no. Not at all. I assure you I enjoy it. And, besides, a boy with
+Archie's musical talents is bound to have the artistic temperament, you
+know, and--well--of course, we all know what that leads to--excitement;
+and finally a quarrel sometimes.'
+
+'If he were really musical I should have thought he ought to be more
+harmonious,' Edith said.
+
+'Oh, by the way, Edith, did you consult Landi about him?' Bruce
+inquired. 'You said you intended to.'
+
+'Oh yes, I did. Landi can see no sign of musical genius yet.'
+
+'Dear, dear!' said Bruce.
+
+'Ah, but I am convinced he's wrong. Wait a few years and you'll find
+he'll agree with me yet,' said Madame Frabelle. 'I'm not at all sure,
+either, that a composer like Landi is necessarily the right person to
+judge of youthful genius.'
+
+'Perhaps not. And yet you'd think he'd know a bit about it, too! I mean
+to say, they wouldn't have made him a baronet if he didn't understand
+his profession. Excuse my saying so, won't you?'
+
+'Not at all,' she answered. 'It doesn't follow. I mean it doesn't follow
+that he's right about Archie. Did he try the boy's voice?' she
+asked Edith.
+
+'Very much.'
+
+'How?'
+
+'Well, he asked Archie to sing a few notes.'
+
+'And did he?'
+
+'Yes, he did. But they weren't the notes Landi asked him to sing.'
+
+'Oh!'
+
+'Then Landi played him two tunes, and found he didn't know one from the
+other.'
+
+'Well, what of that?'
+
+'Nothing at all. Except that it showed he had no ear, as well as no
+voice. That is all.'
+
+Madame Frabelle would never own she was beaten.
+
+'Ah, well, well,' she said, shaking her head in an oracular way. 'You
+wait!'
+
+'Certainly. I shall.'
+
+'By the way, I may be a little late for dinner tonight. I'm going to see
+an old friend who's been wounded in the war,' Bruce told Madame
+Frabelle proudly.
+
+It had always been something of an ordeal to Edith when she knew that
+Aylmer and Bruce were alone together. It was a curious feeling, combined
+of loyalty to Bruce (she hated him to make himself ridiculous), loyalty
+to Aylmer, and an indescribable sense of being lowered in her own eyes.
+When they seemed friendly together it pained her self-respect. Most
+women will understand the sensation. However, she knew it had to be, and
+would be glad when it was over.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The next evening Bruce came in, holding himself very straight, with a
+slightly military manner. When he saw his wife he just stopped himself
+from saluting.
+
+'That's a man!' he exclaimed. 'That's a splendid fellow.'
+
+Edith didn't answer.
+
+'You don't appreciate him. In my opinion Aylmer Ross is a hero.'
+
+'I hope he's better?'
+
+'Better! He would say so, anyhow. Ah, he's a wonderful chap!' Bruce
+hummed Tipperary below his breath.
+
+Edith was surprised to find herself suffering no less mental discomfort
+and irritation while Bruce talked about Aylmer and praised him than she
+used to feel years ago. It seemed as if three years had passed and
+altered nothing. She answered coldly. Bruce became more enthusiastic. He
+declared that she didn't know how to value such a fine character.
+'Women,' he repeated, 'don't know a hero when they see one.'
+
+Evidently if Bruce had had his way Aylmer would have been covered with
+DSO's and VC's; nothing was good enough for him.
+
+On the other hand, if Edith had praised Aylmer, Bruce would have been
+the first to _debiner_ his actions, undervalue his gifts, and crab him
+generally.
+
+Edith was not one of those women, far more common than is supposed, who
+consider themselves aggrieved and injured when a discarded lover
+consoles himself with someone else. Nor was she one of the numerous
+people who will not throw away what they no longer want for fear someone
+else will pick it up. She had such a strong sympathy for Dulcie Clay
+that she had said to herself several times she would like to see her
+perfectly happy. Edith was convinced that the nurse adored her patient,
+but she was not at all sure that he returned the admiration. Edith
+herself had only seen him alone once, and on that occasion they had said
+hardly anything to each other. He had been constrained and she had been
+embarrassed. The day that Arthur Coniston was there and they talked of
+pictures, Aylmer had given her, by a look, to understand that he would
+like to see her again alone, and she knew perfectly well, even without
+that, that he was longing for another _tête-à-tête_.
+
+However, the next day Edith went with Madame Frabelle.
+
+This was a strangely unsatisfactory visit. Edith knew his looks and
+every tone of his voice so well that she could see that Aylmer, unlike
+everybody else, was not in the least charmed with Madame Frabelle. She
+bored him; he saw nothing in her.
+
+Madame Frabelle was still more disappointed. She had been told he was
+brilliant; he said nothing put commonplaces. He was supposed to be
+witty; he answered everything she said literally. He was said to be a
+man of encyclopaedic information; but when Madame Frabelle questioned him
+on such subjects his answers were dry and short; and when she tried to
+draw him out about the war, he changed the subject in a manner that was
+not very far from being positively rude.
+
+Leaving them for a moment, Edith went to talk to Dulcie.
+
+'How do you think he's getting on?' she said.
+
+'He's getting well; gradually. He seems a little nervous the last day or
+so.'
+
+'Do you think he's been seeing too many people?'
+
+'He hasn't seen more than the doctor has allowed. But, do you know, Mrs.
+Ottley, I think it depends a great deal who the people are.'
+
+She waited a moment and then went on in a low voice:
+
+'You do him more good than anyone. You see, he's known you so long,' she
+added gently, 'and so intimately. It's no strain--I mean he hasn't got
+to make conversation.'
+
+'Yes, I see,' said Edith.
+
+'Mr. Ross hasn't any near relations--no mother or sister. You seem to
+take their place--if you understand what I mean.'
+
+Edith thought it charmingly tactful of her to put it like that.
+
+'I'm sure _you_ take their place,' Edith said.
+
+Dulcie looked down.
+
+'Oh, of course, he hasn't to make any effort with me. But then _I_ don't
+amuse him, and he wants amusement, and change. It's a great bore for a
+man like that--so active mentally, and in every way--to have to lie
+perfectly still, especially when he has no companion but me. I'm rather
+dull in some ways. Besides, I don't know anything about the subjects
+he's interested in.'
+
+'Don't talk nonsense,' said Edith, smiling. 'I should imagine that just
+to look at you would be sufficient.'
+
+'Oh, Mrs. Ottley! How can you?'
+
+She turned away as if rather pained than pleased at the compliment.
+
+'I haven't very high spirits,' she said. 'I'm not sure that I don't
+sometimes depress him.'
+
+'On the contrary; I'm sure he wouldn't like a breezy, restless person
+bouncing about the room and roaring with laughter,' Edith said.
+
+She smiled. 'Perhaps not. But there might be something between. He will
+be able to go for a drive in a week or two. I wondered whether, perhaps,
+you could take him out?'
+
+'Oh yes; I dare say that could be arranged.'
+
+'I have to go out all tomorrow afternoon. I wondered whether you would
+come and sit with him, Mrs. Ottley?'
+
+'Certainly I will, if you like.'
+
+'Oh, please do! I know he's worrying much more about his son than
+anybody thinks. You see, the boy's really very young, and I'm not sure
+he's strong.'
+
+'I suppose neither of them told the truth about their age,' said Edith.
+'It reminds one of the joke in _Punch_: "Where do you expect to go if
+you tell lies? To the front."'
+
+Miss Clay gave a little laugh. Then she started. A bell was heard
+ringing rather loudly.
+
+'I'll tell him you're coming tomorrow, then,' she said.
+
+They returned to Aylmer's room.
+
+He was looking a little sulky. He said as Edith came in:
+
+'I thought you'd gone without saying good-bye. What on earth were you
+doing?'
+
+'Only talking to Miss Clay,' said Edith, sitting down by him. 'How sweet
+she is.'
+
+'Charming,' said Madame Frabelle. 'Wonderfully pretty, too.'
+
+'She's a good nurse,' said Aylmer briefly. 'She's been awfully good to
+me. But I do hope I shan't need her much longer.' He spoke with
+unnecessary fervour.
+
+'Oh, Mr Ross!' exclaimed Madame Frabelle. 'I'm sure if I were a young
+man I should be very sorry when she had to leave me!'
+
+'Possibly. However, you're not a young man. Neither am I.'
+
+There was a moment's silence. This was really an exceptional thing when
+Madame Frabelle was present. Edith could not recall one occasion when
+Eglantine had had nothing to say. Aylmer must have been excessively
+snubbing. Extraordinary I Wonder of wonders! He had actually silenced
+Madame Frabelle!
+
+All Aylmer's natural politeness and amiability returned when they rose
+to take their leave. He suddenly became cordial, cheery and charming.
+Evidently he was so delighted the visitor was going that it quite raised
+his spirits. When they left he gave Edith a little reproachful look. He
+did not ask her to come again. He was afraid she would bring
+Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Well, Edith, I thoroughly understand your husband's hero-worship for
+that man,' said Madame Frabelle (meaning she thoroughly misunderstood
+it). 'I've been studying his character all this afternoon.'
+
+'Do tell me what you think of him!'
+
+'Edith, I'm sorry to say it, but it's a hard, cold, cruel nature.'
+
+'Is it really?'
+
+'Mr Aylmer Ross doesn't know what it is to feel emotion, sentiment, or
+tenderness. Principle he has, perhaps, and no doubt he thinks he has
+great self-control, but that's only because he's absolutely incapable of
+passion of any kind.'
+
+Edith smiled.
+
+'I see you're amused at my being right again. It is an odd thing about
+me, I must own. I never make a mistake,' said Madame Frabelle
+complacently.
+
+As they walked home, she continued to discourse eloquently on the
+subject of Aylmer. She explained him almost entirely away.
+
+There was nothing Madame Frabelle fancied herself more on than
+physiognomy. She pointed out to Edith how the brow showed a narrow mind,
+the mouth bitterness. (How extraordinarily bored Aylmer must have been
+to give that impression of all others, thought her listener.) And the
+eyes, particularly, gave away his chief characteristic, the thing that
+one missed most in his personality.
+
+'And what is that?'
+
+'Can't you see?'
+
+'No, I don't think I can.'
+
+'He has no sense of humour!' said Madame Frabelle triumphantly.
+
+After a few moment's pause, Edith said:
+
+'What do you think of Miss Clay?'
+
+'She's very pretty--extremely pretty. But I don't quite like to say what
+I think of her. I'd rather not. Don't ask me. It doesn't concern me.'
+
+'As bad as that? Oh, do tell me. You're so interesting about character,
+Eglantine.'
+
+'Dear Edith, how kind of you. Well, she's very, very clever, of course.
+Most intellectual. A remarkable brain, I should say. But she's deep and
+scheming; it's a sly, treacherous face.'
+
+'Really, I can't see that.'
+
+Madame Frabelle put her hand on Edith's shoulder. They had just reached
+the house.
+
+'Ah, you don't know so much of life as I do, my dear.'
+
+'I should have said she is certainly not at all above the average in
+cleverness, and I think her particularly simple and frank.'
+
+'Ah, but that's all put on. You'll see I'm right some day. However, it
+doesn't matter. No doubt she's a very good nurse.'
+
+'Don't abuse her to Bruce,' said Edith, as they went in.
+
+'Certainly not. But why do you mind?'
+
+'I don't know; I suppose I like her.'
+
+Madame Frabelle laughed. 'How strange you are!'
+
+She lowered her voice as they walked upstairs, and said:
+
+'To tell the real truth, she gave me a shiver down the spine. I believe
+that girl capable of anything. That dark skin with those pale blue eyes!
+I strongly suspect she has a touch of the tarbrush.'
+
+'My dear! Nonsense. You can't have looked at her fine little features
+and her white hands.'
+
+'Why is she so dark?'
+
+'There may have been Italian or Spanish blood in her family,' said
+Edith, laughing. 'It's not a symptom of crime.'
+
+'There may, indeed,' replied Madame Frabelle in a tone of deep meaning,
+as they reached the door of her room. 'But, mark my words, Edith, that's
+a dangerous woman!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An event had occurred in the Ottley household during their absence.
+Archie had brought home a dog and implored his mother to let him
+keep it.
+
+'What sort of dog is it?' asked Edith.
+
+'Come and look at it. It isn't any particular _sort_. It's just a dog.'
+
+'But, my dear boy, you're going to school the day after tomorrow, and
+you can't take it with you.'
+
+'I know; but I'll teach Dilly to look after it.'
+
+It was a queer, rough, untidy-looking creature; it seemed harmless
+enough; a sort of Dobbin in _Vanity Fair_ in the canine world.
+
+'It's an inconsistent dog. Its face is like a terrier's, and its tail
+like a sort of spaniel,' said Archie. 'But I think it might be trained
+to a bloodhound.'
+
+'You do, do you? What use would a bloodhound be to Dilly?'
+
+'Well, you never know. It might be very useful.'
+
+'I'm afraid there's not room in the house for it.'
+
+'Oh, Mother!' both the children cried together. 'We _must_ keep it!'
+
+'Was it lost?' she asked.
+
+Archie frowned at Dilly, who was beginning to say, 'Not exactly.'
+
+'Tell me how you got it.'
+
+'It was just walking along, and I took its chain. The chain was dragging
+on the ground.'
+
+'You stole it,' said Dilly.
+
+Archie flew at her, but Edith kept him back.
+
+'Stole it! I didn't! Its master had walked on and evidently didn't care
+a bit about it, poor thing. That's not stealing.'
+
+'If Master Archie wants to keep a lot of dogs, he had better take them
+with him to school,' said the nurse. 'I don't want nothing to do with no
+dogs, not in this nursery.'
+
+'There's only one thing to be done, Archie; you must take care of it for
+the next day or two, and I shall advertise in the paper for its master.'
+
+'Oh, mother!'
+
+'Don't you see it isn't even honest to keep it?'
+
+Archie was bitterly disappointed, but consoled at the idea of seeing the
+advertisement in the paper.
+
+'How can we advertise it? We don't know what name it answers to.'
+
+'It would certainly be difficult to describe,' said Edith.
+
+They had tried every name they had ever heard of, and Dilly declared it
+had answered to them all, if answering meant jumping rather wildly round
+them and barking as if in the very highest spirits, it certainly had.
+
+'It'll be fun to see my name in the paper,' said Archie thoughtfully.
+
+'Indeed you won't see your name in the paper.'
+
+'Well, I found it,' said Archie rather sulkily.
+
+'Yes; but you had no right to find it, and still less to bring it home.
+I don't know what your father will say.'
+
+Bruce at once said that it must be taken to Scotland Yard. Dilly cried
+bitterly, and said she wanted it to eat out of her hand, and save her
+life in a snowstorm.
+
+'It's not a St Bernard, you utter little fool,' said her brother.
+
+'Well, it might save me from drowning,' said Dilly.
+
+She had once seen a picture, which she longed to realise, of a dog
+swimming, holding a child in its mouth. She thought it ought to be
+called Faithful or Rover.
+
+All these romantic visions had to be given up. Madame Frabelle said the
+only thing to do was to take it at once to the Battersea Dogs' Home,
+where it would be 'happy with companions of its own age'. Immediately
+after dinner her suggestion was carried out, to the great relief of most
+of the household. The nurse said when it had gone that she had 'known
+all along it was mad, but didn't like to say so.'
+
+'But it took such a fancy to me,' said Archie.
+
+'Perhaps that was why,' said Dilly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The children were separated by force.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+For a woman who was warm-hearted, sensitive and thoughtful, Edith had a
+singularly happy disposition. First, she was good-tempered; not touchy,
+not easily offended about trifles. Such vanity as she had was not in an
+uneasy condition; she cared very little for general admiration, and had
+no feeling for competition. She was without ambition to be superior to
+others. Then, though she saw more deeply into things than the generality
+of women, she was not fond of dwelling on the sad side of life. Very
+small things pleased her, while trifles did not annoy her. Hers was not
+the placidity of the stupid, fat, contented person who never troubles
+about other people.
+
+She was rather of a philosophical turn, and her philosophy tended to
+seeing the brighter side. Where she was singularly fortunate was that
+though she felt pleasure deeply--a temperament that feels pain in
+proportion--her suffering, though acute, seldom lasted long. There was
+an elasticity in her disposition that made her rebound quickly from
+a blow.
+
+Her affections were intense, but she did not suffer the usual penalty of
+love--a continual dread of losing the loved object. If she adored her
+children and was thankful for their health and beauty, she was not
+exactly what is called an anxious mother. She thought much about them,
+and was very determined to have her own way in anything concerning them.
+That, indeed, was a subject on which she would give way to no-one. But
+as she had so far succeeded in directing them according to her own
+ideas, she was satisfied. And she was very hopeful. She could look
+forward to happiness, but troubles she dealt with as they arose.
+
+Certainly, after the first few months of their marriage, Bruce had
+turned out a disappointment. But now that she knew him, knew the worst
+of him, she did not think bad. He had an irritating personality. But
+most people had to live with someone who was a little irritating; and
+she was so accustomed to his various ways and weaknesses that she could
+deal with them unmoved, almost mechanically. She did not take him
+seriously. She would greatly have preferred, of course, that he should
+understand her, that she could look up to him and lean on him. But as
+this was not so, she made the best of it, and managed to be contented
+enough. Three years ago she had not even known she could be deeply
+in love.
+
+She had loved Aylmer Ross. But even at that time, when Bruce gave her
+the opportunity, by his wild escapade with Miss Argles, to free herself
+and marry Aylmer--her ideal of divine happiness at the time--somehow she
+could not do it. She had a curious sense of responsibility towards
+Bruce, which came in the way.
+
+Often since then she had had regrets; she had even felt it had been a
+mistake to throw away such a chance. But she reflected that she would
+have regrets anyhow. It would have worried her to know that Bruce needed
+her. For all that, she knew he did, if unconsciously. So she had made up
+her mind to content herself with a life which, though peaceful, was
+certainly, to her temperament, decidedly incomplete.
+
+Edith had other sources of happiness more acute than that of the
+average. She took an intense and keen enjoyment in life itself.
+Everything interested her, amused her. She was never bored. She so much
+enjoyed the mere spectacle of life that she never required to be the
+central figure. When she had to play the part of a mere spectator it
+didn't depress her; she could delight in society and in character as if
+at a theatre. On the other hand, as she had a good deal of initiative
+and a strong personality, she could also revel in action, in playing a
+principal part. Under a quiet manner her courage was daring and her
+spirit high. Unless someone or something was actively tormenting her, to
+an extent quite insupportable, she was contented, even gay.
+
+Her past romance with Aylmer had naturally opened to her a source of
+delight that she knew nothing of before.
+
+Since she had seen him again she scarcely knew how she felt about it.
+This day she was to see him again alone, because he wished it, and
+because Dulcie Clay had begged her to gratify the wish.
+
+Why was it, she asked herself, that the little nurse desired they should
+be alone together? It was perfectly clear, to a woman with Edith's
+penetration, that Dulcie was in love with Aylmer. Also, she was equally
+sure that the girl believed Aylmer to be devoted to her, Edith. Then it
+must be the purest unselfishness. Dulcie probably, she thought, loved
+him with a kind of hopeless worship. She had seen him ill and weak, she
+pitied him, she wanted him to be happy. In return for this generosity
+Edith felt a generous kindness for her, a sympathy that she would never
+have believed she could feel at seeing such a beautiful girl on those
+rather intimate terms with Aylmer.
+
+It must mean, simply, that Edith knew Aylmer cared for her still. A look
+was enough to convince her that at least he still took a great and deep
+interest in her. And she wanted to come to an understanding with him, or
+she could have avoided a _tête-à-tête_.
+
+During the three years he had been away the feeling had calmed down, but
+the ideal was still there, and the memory. Whenever Bruce was
+maddening--which was fairly often--when she heard music, when she saw
+beautiful scenery, when she was reading a romantic book, when any other
+man admired her, Aylmer was always in her thoughts.
+
+When Edith saw him again she was not sure that she had not worn out her
+passion by dwelling on it. But that might easily be caused by the mere
+_gêne_ of the first two or three meetings. There is a shyness, a sort of
+coldness, in meeting again a person one has passionately loved. To see
+the dream in flesh and blood, the thought made concrete, once more
+brings poetry down to prose. Then the terms they met on now were
+changed. He was playing such a different part. Instead of the strong,
+determined man who had voluntarily left her, refusing to know her as a
+friend, and reproaching her bitterly for playing with him, as he called
+it, here was a broken invalid, a pathetic figure who appealed to
+entirely different sentiments. There is naturally something maternal in
+a woman's feeling to a sick man. There was also the halo that surrounds
+the wounded hero. He was not ill through weakness, but through strength
+and courage.
+
+She found herself thinking of him day and night, but it was in a
+different way. It might be because he had not yet referred to their past
+love affair.
+
+Edith dressed with unusual care to go and see him today. Even if a woman
+wishes to discourage or to break off all relations with a man, she
+doesn't, after all, wish to leave a disagreeable impression.
+
+Her prettiness and charm--of which she was modestly but confidently
+aware, by her experience of its effect--was a great satisfaction. It was
+remarkably noticeable today. In front of the glass Edith hesitated
+between her favourite plain sailor hat and a new black velvet toque,
+which shaded her eyes, contrasting with the fair hair of which very
+little showed, and giving her an aspect of dashing yet discreet
+coquetry. She looked younger in the other sailor hat (so she decided
+when she put it on again) and more as she used to look. Which was the
+more attractive? She decided on novelty, and went out, finally, in
+the toque.
+
+Of course only another woman could have appreciated the remarkable fact
+that she could wear at thirty-five such a small hat and yet look fresh.
+Certainly a brim was more flattering to most women of her age, but the
+contour of Edith's face was still as youthful as ever; she had one of
+those clearly shaped oval faces that are not disposed to growing thick
+and broad, or to haggardness. The oval might be a shade wider than it
+was three years ago; that was all the more becoming; did it not make the
+features look smaller?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As she went out she laughed at herself for giving so much thought to her
+appearance. It was as though she believed she was going to play an
+important part in the chief scene of a play.
+
+Once dressed, as usual she lost all self-consciousness, and thought of
+outside things.
+
+Miss Clay was out, as she had told Edith she would be, and the servant
+showed her in.
+
+She saw at once that Aylmer, also, had been looking forward to this
+moment with some excitement. He, too, had dressed with special care; and
+she knew, without being told, that orders had been given to receive no
+other visitors.
+
+He was sitting in an arm-chair, with the bandaged leg on the other
+chair, a small table by his side laid for tea. Even a kettle was boiling
+(no doubt to avoid interruption). It was his old brown library, where
+she had occasionally seen him with others in the old days. But this was
+literally the first time she had seen him in his own house alone.
+
+It was essentially a man's room. Comfortable, but not exactly luxurious;
+very little was sacrificed to decoration.
+
+There were a few very old dark pictures on the walls. The room was
+crammed with books in long, low bookcases. On the mantelpiece was a
+pewter vase of cerise-coloured carnations.
+
+An uncut _English Review_ was in his hand, but he threw it on the floor
+with a characteristic gesture as she came in.
+
+'You look very comfortable,' said Edith, as she took her seat in the
+arm-chair placed for her.
+
+He answered gravely, speaking in his direct, quick way, with his sincere
+manner:
+
+'It was very good of you to come.'
+
+'Shall I pour out your tea?'
+
+'Yes. Let's have tea and get it over.'
+
+She laughed, took off her gloves, and he watched her fingers as they
+occupied themselves with the china, as though he were impatient for the
+ceremony to be finished.
+
+While she poured it out and handed it to him he said not a word. She saw
+that he looked pale and seemed rather nervous. Each tried to put the
+other at ease, more by looks than words. Edith saw it would worry him to
+make conversation. They knew each other well enough to exchange ideas
+without words.
+
+He had something to say and she would not postpone it. That would
+irritate him.
+
+'There,' said Aylmer, giving a little push to the table. 'Do you want
+any more tea?'
+
+'No, thanks.'
+
+'Well--do you mind coming a little nearer?'
+
+She lifted the little table, put it farther behind his chair, placed the
+arm-chair closer to him by the fire, and sat down again. He looked at
+her for some time with a serious expression. Then he said, rather
+abruptly and unexpectedly:
+
+'What a jolly hat!'
+
+'Oh, I _am_ glad you like it!' exclaimed Edith. 'I was afraid you'd hate
+it.'
+
+For the first time they were talking in their old tone, she reflected.
+
+'No, I like it--I love it.' He lowered his voice to say this.
+
+'I'm glad,' she repeated.
+
+'And I love you,' said Aylmer as abruptly, and in a still lower voice.
+
+She didn't answer.
+
+'Look here, Edith. I want to ask you something.'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+He seemed to have some difficulty in speaking. He was agitated.
+
+'Have you forgotten me?'
+
+'You can see I haven't, or I wouldn't be here,' she answered.
+
+'Don't fence with me. I mean, really. Are you the same as when I went
+away?'
+
+'Aylmer, do you think we had better talk about it?'
+
+'We must. I must. I can't endure the torture of seeing you just like
+anybody else. You know I told you--' He stopped a moment.
+
+'You told me you'd never be a mere friend,' she said. 'But everything's
+so different now!'
+
+'It isn't different; that's where you're wrong. You're just the same,
+and so am I. Except that I care for you far more than I ever did.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer!'
+
+'When I thought I was dying I showed your little photograph to Miss
+Clay. I told her all about it. I suppose I was rather mad. It was just
+after an operation. It doesn't matter a bit; she wouldn't ever say
+a word.'
+
+'I'm sure she wouldn't.'
+
+'I had to confide in somebody,' he went on. 'I told her to send you back
+the photograph, and I told her that my greatest wish was to see
+you again.'
+
+'Well, my dear boy, we have met again! Do change your mind from what you
+said last! I mean when you went away.' She spoke in an imploring tone.
+
+'Do you wish to be friends, then?'
+
+She hesitated a moment, then said: 'Yes, I do.'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+After a moment's pause he said: 'You say everything's changed. In a way
+it is. I look at things differently--I regard them differently. When
+you've been up against it, and seen life and death pretty close, you
+realise what utter rot it is to live so much for the world.'
+
+Edith stared. 'But ... doesn't it make you feel all the more the
+importance of principle--goodness and religion, and all that sort of
+thing? I expected it would, with you.'
+
+'Frankly, no; it doesn't. Now, let us look at the situation quietly.'
+
+After an agitated pause he went on:
+
+'As far as I make out, you're sacrificing yourself to Bruce. When he ran
+away with that girl, and begged you to divorce him, you could have done
+it. You cared for me. Everything would have been right, even before the
+world. No-one would have blamed you. Yet you wouldn't.'
+
+'But that _wasn't_ for the world, Aylmer; you don't understand. It was
+for myself. Something in me, which I can't help. I felt Bruce needed me
+and would go wrong without me--'
+
+'Why should you care? Did he consider you?'
+
+'That isn't the point, dear boy. I felt as if he was my son, so to
+speak--a sort of feeling of responsibility.'
+
+'Yes, quite. It was quixotic rubbish. That's my opinion. There!'
+
+Edith said nothing, remembering he was still ill.
+
+'Well,' he went on, 'now, he _hasn't_ run away from you. He's stayed
+with you for three years; utterly incapable of appreciating you, as I
+know he is, bothering you to death.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer!'
+
+'Don't I know him? You're wasting and frittering yourself away for
+nothing.'
+
+'The children--'
+
+'Don't you think I'd have looked after the children better than he?'
+
+'Yes, I do, Aylmer. But he _is_ their father. They may keep him
+straight.'
+
+'I consider you're utterly wasted,' he said. 'Well! He's stuck to you,
+apparently, for these last three years (as far as you know), and now I'm
+going to ask you something entirely different, for the last time. When I
+was dying, or thought I was, things showed themselves clearly enough, I
+can tell you. And I made up my mind if I lived to see you, to say this.
+Leave Bruce, with me!'
+
+She stared at him.
+
+'In six weeks, when he's tired of telling his friends at the club about
+it, he'll make up his mind, I suppose, if you insist, or even without,
+to divorce you. But do you suppose he'll keep the children? No, my dear
+of course he won't. You'll never have to leave them. I would never ask
+you that. Now listen!' He put his hand over hers, not caressingly, but
+to keep her quiet. 'He'll want to marry again, won't he?'
+
+'Very likely,' she answered.
+
+'Probably already he's in love with that woman What's-her-name--Madame
+Frabelle--who's staying with you.'
+
+Edith gave a little laugh.
+
+'Perhaps he's in love with her already,' continued Aylmer.
+
+'Quite impossible!' said Edith calmly.
+
+'She's a very good sort. She's not a fool, like the girl. She'd look
+after Bruce very well.'
+
+'So she would,' answered Edith.
+
+'Bruce will adore her, be under her thumb, and keep perfectly
+'straight', as you call it--as straight as he ever would. Won't he?'
+
+She was silent.
+
+'You'll get the children then, don't you see?'
+
+'Yes. With a bad reputation, with a cloud on my life, to bring up
+Dilly!'
+
+He sighed impatiently, and said: 'You see, you don't see things as they
+really are, even now. How could you ever possibly hurt Dilly? You're
+only thinking of what the world says, now.
+
+'Hear me out,' he went on. 'Is this the only country? After the war,
+won't everything be different? Thank goodness, I'm well provided for.
+You needn't take a farthing. Leave even your own income to Bruce if you
+like. You know I've five thousand a year now, Edith?'
+
+'I didn't know it. But that has nothing on earth to do with it,' she
+answered.
+
+'Bosh! It has a great deal to do with it. I can afford to bring your
+children up as well as Teddy, my boy. We can marry. And in a year or two
+no one would think any more about it.'
+
+'You bewilder me,' said Edith.
+
+'I want to. Think it over. Don't be weak. I'm sorry, dear, to ask you to
+take the blame on your side. It's unfair; but after all, perhaps, it's
+straighter than waiting for an opportunity (which you could easily get
+in time) of finding Bruce in the wrong.'
+
+Her face expressed intense determination and disagreement with his
+views.
+
+'Don't answer me,' he said, 'think--'
+
+'My dear boy, you must let me answer you. Will you listen to me?'
+
+'Go on, Edith. I'll always listen to you.'
+
+'You don't realise it, but you're not well,' she said.
+
+He gave an impatient gesture.
+
+'How like a woman! As soon as I talk sense you say I'm not well. A
+broken leg doesn't affect the brain, remember.'
+
+'No, Aylmer; I don't mean that. But you've been thinking this over till
+you've lost your bearings, your sense of proportion....'
+
+'Rot! I've just got it! That's what you mean. It comes to this, my dear
+girl'--he spoke gently. 'Of course, if you don't care for me, my
+suggestion would be perfectly mad. Perhaps you don't. Probably you
+regard our romance as a pretty little story to look back on.'
+
+'No, I don't, unless--'
+
+'I won't ask you straight out,' he said. 'I don't suppose you know
+yourself. But, if you care for me, as I do for you'--he spoke
+steadily--'you'll do as I ask.'
+
+'I might love you quite as much, and yet not do it.'
+
+'I know it's a big thing. It's a sacrifice, in a way. But don't you see,
+Edith, that if you still like me, your present life is a long, slow
+sacrifice to convention, or (as you say) to a morbid sense of
+responsibility?'
+
+She looked away with a startled expression.
+
+'Well, do you love me?' he said rather impatiently, but yet with his old
+charm of tenderness and sincerity. 'I have never changed. As you know,
+after the operation, when they thought I was practically done in--it may
+seem a bit mad, but I was really more sane than I have ever been--I told
+Dulcie Clay all about it.'
+
+She stopped him. 'I know you did, my dear, and I don't blame you a bit.
+She's absolutely loyal. But now, listen. Has nothing occurred to you
+about her?'
+
+'Nothing, except that I'm hoping to get rid of her as soon as possible.'
+
+'She's madly in love with you, Aylmer.'
+
+He looked contemptuous.
+
+'She's a dear girl,' said Edith. 'I feel quite fond of her.'
+
+'Really, I don't see how she comes in. You are perverse, Edith!'
+
+'I'm not perverse. I see things.'
+
+'She's never shown the slightest sign of it,' said Aylmer. 'I think it's
+your imagination. But even if it's not, it isn't my business,
+nor yours.'
+
+'I think it is, a little.'
+
+'If you talk like that, I'll send her away today.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer! how ungrateful of you to say such a thing! She's been an
+angel.'
+
+He spoke wearily. 'I don't want _angels_! I want _you_!' He suddenly
+leant forward and took her hands.
+
+She laughed nervously. 'What a compliment.'
+
+Then she disengaged herself and stood up.
+
+Aylmer sighed. 'Now you're going to say, Ought you to talk so much? What
+is your temperature? Oh, women _are_ irritating, even the nicest,
+confound them!'
+
+Edith was unable to help laughing.
+
+'I'm afraid I _was_ going to say something like that.'
+
+'Now, are you going to say you won't answer me for fear it will excite
+me?'
+
+'Don't talk nonsense,' said Edith. '_I_ take you seriously enough. Don't
+worry!'
+
+He looked delighted.
+
+'Thank heaven! Most women treat a wounded man as if he were a sick child
+or a lunatic. It's the greatest rot. I'm nearly well.'
+
+Edith looked round for his tonic, but stopped herself.
+
+'Are you going now?' he asked.
+
+'No, Aylmer. I thought of stopping a few minutes, if you don't mind.'
+
+'Shall we talk of something else,' said Aylmer satirically, 'to divert
+my thoughts? Hasn't it been lovely weather lately?'
+
+She smiled and sat down again.
+
+'Would you like to know how soon the war will be over?' he went on.
+'Oddly enough, I really don't know!'
+
+'Are you going back when you've recovered?' she asked abruptly.
+
+'Of course I'm going back; and I want to go back with your promise.'
+Then he looked a little conscience-stricken. 'Dear Edith, I don't want
+to rush you. Forgive me.'
+
+They both sat in dead silence for five minutes. He was looking at the
+black velvet toque on the fair hair, over the soft eyes. She was staring
+across at the cherry-coloured carnations in the pewter vase on the
+mantelpiece.
+
+As has been said, they often exchanged ideas without words.
+
+He remarked, as she glanced at a book: 'Yes, I have read _A Life of
+Slavery_. Have you? Do you think it good?'
+
+'Splendid,' Edith answered; 'it's a labour of hate.'
+
+He laughed.
+
+'Quite true. One can't call it a labour of love, though it was written
+to please the writer--not the public.'
+
+'I wonder you could read it,' said Edith, 'after what you've been
+through.'
+
+'It took my thoughts off life,' he said.
+
+'Why? Isn't it life?'
+
+'Of course it is. Literary life.'
+
+Edith looked at the clock.
+
+'When am I going to see you again?' he asked in a rather exhausted
+voice.
+
+'Whenever you like. What about taking you out for a drive next week?'
+
+'Right.'
+
+'I'll think over what you said,' said Edith casually as she stood up.
+
+'What a funny little speech. You're _impayable_! Oh, you are a jolly
+girl!'
+
+'"Jolly" girl,' repeated Edith, not apparently pleased. 'I'm
+thirty-five, with a boy at school and a growing girl of seven!'
+
+'You think too much of the almanac. I'm forty-one, with a son at the
+front.'
+
+'How on earth did you get your commissions?'
+
+'In the usual way. Teddy and I told lies. He said he was eighteen and I
+said I was thirty-nine.'
+
+'I see. Of course.'
+
+He rang the bell.
+
+'Will you write to me, dear Edith?'
+
+'No. I'll come and see you, Aylmer.'
+
+'Are you going to bring Archie, Bruce, or Madame Frabelle?'
+
+'Neither.'
+
+'Do leave Madame Frabelle at home.'
+
+'Though you don't like her, you might pronounce her name right! She's
+such a clever woman.'
+
+'She's an utter fool,' said Aylmer.
+
+'Same thing, very often,' said Edith. 'Don't worry. Good-bye.'
+
+She went away, leaving him perfectly happy and very hungry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hardly had she gone when Miss Clay came in and brought him some beef-tea
+on a tray.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+To Edith's joy, as they entered the Mitchell's huge, familiar
+drawing-room, the first person she saw was her beloved confidant, Sir
+Tito Landi. This was the friend of all others whom she most longed to
+see at this particular moment.
+
+The extraordinary confidence and friendship between the successful
+Italian composer and Edith Ottley needs, perhaps, a word of explanation.
+He was adored equally in the artistic and the social worlds, and was at
+once the most cynical of Don Juans and the most unworldly of Don
+Quixotes. He was a devoted and grateful friend, and a contemptuous but
+not unforgetful enemy.
+
+It was not since his celebrity that Edith had first met him; she had
+known him intimately all her life. From her earliest childhood she had,
+so to speak, been brought up on Landi; on Landi's music and Landi's
+views of life. He had been her mother's music teacher soon after he
+first made a name in London; and long before he was the star whose
+singing or accompanying was a rare favour, and whose presence gave a
+cachet to any entertainment.
+
+How many poor Italians--yes, and many people of other nationalities--had
+reason to bless his acquaintance! How kind, how warm-hearted, how
+foolishly extravagant on others was Landi! His brilliant cleverness,
+which made him received almost as an Englishman among English people,
+was not, however, the cleverness of the _arriviste_. Although he had
+succeeded, and success was his object, no one could be less
+self-interested, less pushing, less scheming. In many things he was a
+child. He would as soon dine at Pagani's with a poor sculptor, or a poor
+and plain woman who was struggling to give lessons in Italian, as with
+the most brilliant hostess in London. And he always found fashion and
+ceremony a bore. He was so great a favourite in England that he had been
+given that most English of titles, a knighthood, just as though he were
+very rich, or political, or a popular actor. In a childish way it amused
+him, and he was pleased with it. But though he was remarkable for his
+courtly tact, he loved most of all to be absolutely free and Bohemian,
+to be quite natural among really sympathetic, witty, or beautiful
+friends. He liked to say what he thought, to go where he wished, and to
+make love when he chose, not when other people chose. He had long been a
+man with an assured position, but he had changed little since he was
+twenty-one, and arrived from Naples with only his talent, his bright
+blue eyes, his fair complexion, his small, dignified figure and his
+daring humour. Yet the music he wrote indicated his sensitive and deeply
+feeling nature, and though his conversation could hardly be called other
+than cynical, nor his jokes puritanical, there was always in him a vein
+of genuine--not sentimental, but perhaps romantic--love and admiration
+for everything good; good in music, good in art, good in character. He
+laid down no rules of what was good. 'Tout savoir c'est tout pardonner'
+was perhaps his motto. But he was very unexpected; that was one of his
+charms. He would pass over the most extraordinary things--envious
+slights, small injuries, things another man would never forgive. On the
+other hand, he retained a bitter memory, not at all without its
+inclination for repayment, for other trifles that many would disregard.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ever since she was a child Edith had been his special favourite. He
+loved the privilege of calling her Edith, of listening to her
+confidences, of treating her with loving familiarity. It was a joke
+between them that, while he used formerly to say, 'Cette enfant! Je l'ai
+vue en jupe courte, vous savez!' he had gradually reached the point of
+declaring, 'Je l'ai vue naître!' almost with tears in his eyes.
+
+This explains why Landi was the only creature to whom Edith could tell
+everything, and did. Must not all nice people have a confidant? And no
+girl or woman friend--much as they might like her, and she them--could
+ever take the place of Landi, the wise and ever-sympathetic.
+
+There was something in his mental attitude that was not unfeminine,
+direct and assertive as he was. He had what is generally known as
+feminine intuition, a quality perhaps even rarer in women than in men.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Tonight the persistently hospitable Mrs Mitchell had a large party.
+Dressed in grey, she was receiving her guests in the big room on the
+ground floor, and tactfully directing the conversation of a crowd of
+various and more or less interesting persons.
+
+It was one of those parties that had been described as a Russian Salad,
+where one ran an equal risk--or took an equal chance--of being taken to
+dinner by Charlie Chaplin or Winston Churchill, and where society and
+the stage were equally well represented. Young officers on leave and a
+few pretty girls filled the vacancies.
+
+As Bruce, Edith and Madame Frabelle came in together, Landi went
+straight to Edith's side.
+
+Looking at her through his eyeglass, he said, as if to himself, in an
+anxious tone:
+
+'Elle a quelquechose, cette enfant; oui, elle a quelquechose,' and as
+the last guest had not arrived he sat down thoughtfully by her on the
+small sofa.
+
+'Yes, Landi, there is something the matter. I'm longing to tell you
+about it. I want your advice,' said Edith, smiling.
+
+'Tout se sait; tout se fait; tout s'arrange,' sententiously remarked
+Landi, who was not above talking oracular commonplaces at times.
+
+'Oh, it isn't one of those things, Landi.'
+
+'Not? Are you sure? Don't be sad, Edith. Be cheerful. Tiens! Tiens!
+Tiens! How excited you are,' he went on, as she looked at him with
+perfect composure.
+
+'You will think I have reason to be excited when I tell you.'
+
+He smiled in an experienced way.
+
+'I'll sit next to you at dinner and you shall tell me everything. Tiens!
+La vieille qui voit double!' He bowed politely as Madame Frabelle
+came up.
+
+'Dear Sir Tito, _what_ a pleasure to see you again! Your lovely songs
+have been ringing in my ears ever since I heard them!'
+
+'Where did you hear them? On a piano-organ?' he asked.
+
+'You're too bad! Isn't he naughty? No, when you sang here last.'
+
+Mr Mitchell came up, and Madame Frabelle turned away.
+
+'Dieu merci! La pauvre! Elle me donne sur les nerfs ce soir,' said
+Landi. 'I shall sit next to you whether the cards are placed so or not,
+Edith, and you'll tell me everything between the soup and the ices.'
+
+'I will indeed.'
+
+'Madame Meetchel,' he said, looking round through his eyeglass, 'is sure
+to have given you a handsome young man, someone who ought to drive Bruce
+wild with jealousy, but doesn't, or ... or ...'
+
+'Or some fly-blown celebrity.'
+
+'Sans doute!'
+
+The door opened and the last guest appeared. It was young Coniston (in
+khaki), who was invariably asked when there was to be music. He was
+so useful.
+
+He approached Landi at once.
+
+'Ah, cher maître, quel plaisir!' he said with his South Kensington
+accent and his Oxford manner. (He had been a Cambridge man.)
+
+'C'est vrai?' asked Landi, who had his own way of dismissing a person in
+a friendly way.
+
+Coniston began talking to him of a song. Landi waved him off and went up
+to Mrs Mitchell, said something which made her laugh and blush and try
+to hit him with her fan--the fan, the assault and the manner were all
+out of date, but Mrs Mitchell made no pretence at going with the
+times--and his object was gained.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Tito took Edith in to dinner.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+As they found their places at the long table (Sir Tito had exchanged
+cards, as though he meant to fight a duel with Edith's destined partner)
+of course the two turned their backs to one another. On her other side
+was Mr Mitchell. When Madame Frabelle noticed this, she gave Edith an
+arch shake of the head, and made a curious warning movement with her
+hand. Edith smiled at her in astonishment. She had utterly forgotten her
+friend's fancy about the imaginary intrigue supposed to be going on
+between her and Mr Mitchell, and she wondered what the gesture meant.
+Sir Tito also saw it, and, turning round to Edith, said in a low voice:
+
+'Qu'est-ce-qu'elle a, la vieille?'
+
+'I really don't know. I never understand signs. I've forgotten the code,
+I suppose!'
+
+Mr Mitchell, after a word to the person he had taken down, gladly turned
+to Edith. He always complained that the host was obliged to sit between
+the oldest and the most boring guests. It was unusual for him to have so
+pretty a neighbour as Edith. But he was a collector: his joy was to see
+a heterogeneous mass of people, eating and laughing at his table. For
+his wife there were a few social people, for him the Bohemians, and
+always the younger guests.
+
+'Not bad--not bad, is it?' he said, looking critically round down the
+two sides of the table, while his kind pink face beamed with
+hospitable joy.
+
+'You've got a delightful party tonight.'
+
+'What I always say is,' said Mr Mitchell; 'let them enjoy themselves!
+Dash it, I hate etiquette.' He lowered his voice. 'Bruce is looking
+pretty blooming. Not so many illnesses lately has he?'
+
+'Not when he's at home,' said Edith.
+
+'Ah! At the F O the dear fellow does, I'm afraid, suffer a good deal from
+nerves,' said Mr Mitchell, especially towards the end of the day. About
+four o'clock, I mean, you know! You know old Bruce! Good sort he is. I
+see he hasn't got the woman I meant him to sit next to, somehow or
+other. I see he's next to Miss Coniston.'
+
+'Oh, he likes her.'
+
+'Good, good. Thought she was a bit too artistic, and high-browed, as the
+Americans say, for him. But now he's used to that sort of thing, isn't
+he? Madame Frabelle, eh? Wonderful woman. No soup, Edith: why not?'
+
+'It makes me silent,' said Edith; 'and I like to talk.'
+
+Mitchell laughed loudly. 'Ha ha! Champagne for Mrs Ottley. What are you
+about?' He looked up reprovingly at the servant. Mr Mitchell was the
+sort of man who never knows, after twenty years' intimate friendship,
+whether a person takes sugar or not.
+
+Edith allowed the man to fill her glass. She knew it depressed Mr
+Mitchell to see people drinking water. So she only did it
+surreptitiously, and as her glass was always full, because she never
+drank from it, Mr Mitchell was happy.
+
+A very loud feminine laugh was heard.
+
+'That's Miss Radford,' said Mr Mitchell. 'That's how she always goes on.
+She's always laughing. She was immensely charmed with you the day she
+called on you with my wife.'
+
+'Was she?' said Edith, who remembered she herself had been out on that
+occasion.
+
+'Tremendously. I can't remember what she said: I think it was how clever
+you were.'
+
+'She saw Madame Frabelle. I wasn't at home.'
+
+'Ha ha! Good, very good!' Mr Mitchell turned to his other neighbour.
+
+'Eh bien,' said Sir Tito, who was waiting his opportunity. 'Commence!'
+
+At once Edith began murmuring in a low voice her story of herself and
+Aylmer, and related today's conversation in Jermyn Street.
+
+Sir Tito nodded his head occasionally. When he listened most intently,
+he appeared to be looking round the table at other people. He lifted a
+glass of champagne and bowed over it to Mrs Mitchell; then he put his
+hand to his lips and blew a kiss.
+
+'Who's that for?' Edith asked, interrupting herself.
+
+'C'est pour la vieille.'
+
+'Madame Frabelle! Why do you kiss your hand to her?'
+
+'To keep her quiet. Look at her: she's so impressed, and thinks it so
+wicked, that she's blushing and uncomfortable. I've a splendid way,
+Edith (pardon), of silencing all these elderly ladies who make love to
+me. I don't say "Ferme!" I'm polite to them.'
+
+Edith laughed. Sir Tito was not offended.
+
+'Yes, you needn't laugh, my dear child. I'm not old enough yet pour les
+jeunes; at any rate, if I am they don't know it. I'm still pursued by
+the upper middle-age class, with gratitude for favours to come (as
+they think).'
+
+'Well, what's your plan?'
+
+He giggled.
+
+'I tell Madame Frabelle, Madame Meetchel, Lady Everard--first, that they
+have beautiful lips; then, that I can't look at them without longing to
+kiss them. Lady Everard, after I said that, kept her hand before her
+face the whole evening, so as not to distract me, and drive me mad.
+Consequently she couldn't talk.'
+
+'Do they really believe you?'
+
+'Evidemment!... I wonder,' he continued mischievously, as he refused
+wine, 'whether Madame Frabelle will confess to you tonight about my
+passion for her, or whether she will keep it to herself?'
+
+'I dare say she'll tell me. At least she'll ask me if I think so or
+not.'
+
+'Si elle te demande, tu diras que tu n'en sais rien! Well, I think....'
+
+'What?'
+
+'You must wait. Wait and see. Really, it's impossible, my dear child,
+for you to accept an invitation for an elopement as if it were a
+luncheon-party. Not only that, it's good for Aylmer to be kept in doubt.
+Excellent for his health.'
+
+'Really?'
+
+'When I say his health, I mean the health and strength of his love for
+you. You must vacillate, Edith. Souvent femme varie. You sit on the
+fence, n'est-ce-pas? Well, offer the fence to him. But, take it away
+before he sits down. Voilà!'
+
+Edith laughed. 'But then this girl, Miss Clay, she's always there. And I
+like her.'
+
+'What is her nationality?'
+
+'How funny you should ask that! I think she must be of Spanish descent.
+She's so quiet, so religious, and has a very dark complexion. And yet
+wonderful light blue eyes.'
+
+'Quelle histoire! Qu'est-ce-que ça fait?'
+
+'The poor girl is mad about Aylmer. He doesn't seem to know it, but he
+makes her worse by his indifference,' Edith said.
+
+'Why aren't you jealous of her, ma chère? No, I won't ask you that--the
+answer is obvious.'
+
+'I mean this, that if I can't ever do what he wishes, I feel she could
+make him happy; and I could bear it if she did.'
+
+'Spanish?' said Landi, as if to himself. 'Olé! olé! Does she use the
+castanets, and wear a mantilla instead of a cap?'
+
+'How frivolous and silly you are. No, of course not. She looks quite
+English, in fact particularly so.'
+
+'And yet you insist she's Spanish! Well, my advice is this. If he has a
+secret alliance with Spain, you should assume the Balkan attitude.'
+
+'Good gracious! What's that?'
+
+'We're talking politics,' said Landi, across the table. 'Politics, and
+geography! Fancy, Meetchel, Mrs Ottley doesn't know anything about
+the Balkans!'
+
+'Ha, very good,' said Mitchell. 'Capital. What a fellow you are!' He
+gave his hearty, clubbable laugh. Mr Mitchell belonged to an
+exceptionally large number of clubs and was a favourite at all. His
+laugh was the chief cause of his popularity there.
+
+'Il est fou,' said Landi quietly to Edith. 'Quel monde! I don't think
+there are half-a-dozen sane people at this table.'
+
+'Oh, Landi!'
+
+'And if there are, they shouldn't by rights be admitted into decent
+society. But the dear Meetchels don't know that; it's not public. I
+adore them both,' he went on, changing his satirical tone, and again
+apparently drinking the health of Mrs Mitchell, who waved her hand
+coquettishly from the end of the long table.
+
+'Now listen, my child. Don't see Aylmer for a little while.'
+
+'He wants me to take him out for a drive.'
+
+'Take him for a drive. But not this week. How Madame Frabelle loves
+Bruce!' he went on, watching her.
+
+'Really, Landi, I assure you you're occasionally as mistaken as she is.
+And she thinks I'm in love with our host.'
+
+'That's because _elle voit double_. I don't.'
+
+'What makes you think....'
+
+'I read between the lines, my dear--between the lines on Madame
+Frabelle's face.'
+
+'She hasn't any.'
+
+'Oh, go along,' said Landi, who sometimes broke into peculiar English
+which he thought was modern slang. Raising his voice, he said: 'The
+dinner is _exquis--exquis_,' so that Mr Mitchell could hear.
+
+'I can't help noting what you've eaten tonight, Landi, though I don't
+usually observe these things,' Edith said. 'You've had half-a-tomato, a
+small piece of vegetable marrow, and a sip of claret. Aren't you going
+to eat anything more?'
+
+'Not much more. I look forward to my coffee and my cigar. Oh, how I look
+forward to it!'
+
+'You know very well, Landi, they let you smoke cigarettes between the
+courses, if you like.'
+
+'It would be better than nothing. We'll see presently.'
+
+'Might I inquire if you live on cigars and coffee?'
+
+'No,' he answered satirically; 'I live on eau sucré. And porreege. I'm
+Scotch.'
+
+'I can't talk to you if you're so silly.'
+
+'You'll tell me the important part on the little sofa upstairs in the
+salon,' he said. 'After dinner. Tonight, here, somehow, the food and the
+faces distract one--unless one is making an acquaintance. I know you too
+well to talk at dinner.'
+
+'Quite true. I ought to take time to think then.'
+
+'There's no hurry. Good heavens! the man has waited four years; he can
+wait another week. Quelle idée!'
+
+'He's going back,' said Edith, 'as soon as he's well. He wants me to
+promise before he goes.'
+
+'Does he! You remind me of the man who said to his wife: "Good-bye, my
+dear, I'm off to the Thirty Years' War." It's all right, Edith. We'll
+find a solution, I have no fears.'
+
+She turned to Mr Mitchell.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Alone with the women, Madame
+Frabelle was the centre of an admiring circle, as she lectured on 'dress
+and economy in war-time,' and how to manage a house on next to nothing a
+year. All the ladies gasped with admiration. Edith especially was
+impressed; because the fact that Madame Frabelle was a guest, and was
+managing nothing, did not prevent her talking as if she had any amount
+of experience on the subject, although, by her own showing she had been
+staying at hotels ever since the war began, except the last weeks she
+had spent with the Ottleys.
+
+The men soon joined them.
+
+A group of war valetudinarians, amongst whom Bruce was not the least
+emphatic, told each other their symptoms in a quiet corner. They
+described their strange shiverings down the spine; the curious fits of
+hunger that came on before meals; the dislike to crossing the road when
+there was an accident; the inability to sleep, sometimes taking the form
+of complete insomnia for as much as twenty minutes in the early morning.
+They pitied each other cordially, though neither listened to the other's
+symptoms, except in exchange for sympathy with their own.
+
+'The war has got on my nerves; I can't think of anything else,' Bruce
+said. 'It's an _idée fixe_. I pant for the morning when the newspaper's
+due, and then I can't look at it! Not even a glance! Odd, isn't it?'
+
+The Rev. Byrne Fraser, who gave his wife great and constant anxiety by
+his fantasies, related how he had curious dreams--the distressing part
+of which was that they never came true--about the death of relatives at
+the front. Another man also had morbid fancies on the subject of the
+casualty list, and had had to go and stay at a farm so as to 'get right
+away from it all'. But he soon left, as he had found, to his great
+disappointment, that his companions there were not intellectual, and
+could not even talk politics or discuss literature. And yet they went in
+(or so he had heard) for 'intensive culture'!...
+
+Presently Sir Tito played his Italian march. The musical portion of the
+party, and the unmusical alike, joined in the chorus. Then the party
+received a welcome addition. Valdez, the great composer, who had written
+many successful operas and had lived so much abroad that he cared now
+for nothing but British music, looked in after a patriotic concert given
+in order to help the unengaged professionals. Always loyal to old
+friends, he had deserted royalty itself tonight to greet Mrs. Mitchell
+and was persuaded by adoring ladies to sing his celebrated old song,
+'After Several Years.' It pleased and thrilled the audience even more
+than Landi's 'Adieu Hiver'. Indeed, tonight it was Valdez who was the
+success of the evening. Middle-aged ladies who had loved him for years
+loved him now more than ever. Young girls who saw him now for the first
+time fell in love, just as their mothers had done, with his splendid
+black eyes and commanding presence, and secretly longed to stroke at
+least every seventh wave of his abundant hair. When Edith assured him
+that his curls were 'like a flock of goats on Mount Gilead' he laughed,
+declared he was much flattered at the comparison, and kissed her hand
+with courtly grace.
+
+Young Mr. Cricker, who came because he wasn't asked, insisted on dancing
+like Nijinsky because he was begged not to, but his leaps and bounds
+were soon stopped by a few subalterns and very young officers on leave,
+who insisted, with some fair partners, on dancing the Fox Trot to the
+sound of a gramophone.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+For a few moments on the little sofa Edith managed to convey the rest of
+her confidence to Landi. She pointed out how hurried, how urgent, how
+pressing it was to give an answer.
+
+'He wants a war elopement, I see,' said Landi. 'Mais ça ne se fait pas!'
+
+'Then what am I to say?'
+
+'Rien.'
+
+'But, Landi, you know I shan't really ever...'
+
+'Would it give you pleasure to see him married to the Spanish girl?'
+
+'She's not exactly Spanish--she only looks it. Don't laugh like that!'
+
+'I don't know why, but Spain seems always to remind me of something
+ridiculous. Onions--or guitars.'
+
+'Well, I shouldn't mind her nearly so much as anyone else.'
+
+'You don't mind her,' said Landi. 'Vous savez qu'il ne l'épouse pas?
+What would you dislike him to do most?'
+
+'I think I couldn't bear anyone else to take my place exactly,' admitted
+Edith.
+
+'C'est ça! you don't want him to be in love with another married woman
+with a husband like Bruce? Well, my dear, he won't. There is no other
+husband like Bruce.
+
+Landi promised to consider the question, and she arranged to go and see
+him at his studio before seeing Aylmer again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As they went out of the house Miss Coniston ran after Madame Frabelle
+and said eagerly:
+
+'Oh, do tell me again; you say _soupe à la vinaigre_ is marvellously
+nourishing and economical. I can have it made for my brother at
+our flat?'
+
+'Of course you can! It costs next to nothing.'
+
+Arthur Coniston came up.
+
+'And tastes like nothing on earth, I suppose?' he grumbled in his
+sister's ear. 'You can't give me much less to eat than you do already.'
+
+'Oh, Arthur!' his sister said. 'Aren't you happy at home? I think you're
+a pessimist.'
+
+'A pessimist!' cried Mitchell, who was following them into the hall.
+'Oh, I hate pessimists! What's the latest definition of them? Ah, I
+know; an optimist is a person who doesn't care what happens as long as
+it doesn't happen to him.'
+
+'Yes,' said Edith quickly, 'and a pessimist is the person who lives with
+the optimist.'
+
+'Dear, dear. I always thought the old joke was that an optimist looks
+after the eyes, and a pessimist after the feet!' cried Madame Frabelle
+as she fastened her cloak.
+
+'Why, then, he ought to go to a cheer-upadist!' said Mr Mitchell. And
+they left him in roars of laughter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Dulcie Clay, in her neat uniform of grey and white, with the scarlet
+cross on the front of her apron, was sitting in the room she occupied
+for the moment in Aylmer's house in Jermyn Street. It was known as 'the
+second best bedroom'. As she was anxious not to behave as if she were a
+guest, she used it as a kind of boudoir when she was not in attendance.
+
+It was charmingly furnished in the prim Chippendale style, a style
+dainty, but not luxurious, that seemed peculiarly suited to Dulcie.
+
+She was in the window-seat--not with her feet up, no cushions behind
+her. Unlike Edith, she was not the kind of woman who rested habitually;
+she sat quite upright in the corner. A beautiful little mahogany table
+was at her right, with a small electric lamp on it, and two books. One
+of the books was her own choice, the other had been lent to her by
+Aylmer. It was a volume of Bernard Shaw. She could make neither head nor
+tail of it, and the prefaces, which she read with the greatest avidity,
+perplexed her even more than the books themselves. Every now and then a
+flash of lightning, in the form of some phrase she knew, illumined for a
+second the darkness of the author's words. But soon she closed the thick
+volume with the small print and returned to _The Daisy Chain_.
+
+Dulcie was barely one-and-twenty. She carried everywhere in her trunk a
+volume called _The Wide, Wide World_. She was never weary of reading
+this work with the comprehensive title; it reminded her of schooldays.
+It was comforting, like a dressing-gown and slippers, like an old
+friend. Whether she had ever thoroughly understood it may be doubted. If
+any modern person nowadays were to dip into it, he would find it,
+perhaps, more obscure than George Meredith at his darkest. Secretly
+Dulcie loved best in the world, in the form of reading matter, the
+feuilletons in the daily papers. There was something so exciting in that
+way they have of stopping at a thrilling moment and leaving you the
+whole day to think over what would come next, and the night to sleep
+over it. She preferred that; she never concentrated her mind for long on
+a story, or any work of the imagination. She was deeply interested in
+her own life. She was more subjective than objective--though, perhaps,
+she had never heard the words. Unconsciously she dealt with life only as
+it related to herself. But this is almost universal with young girls who
+have only just become conscious of themselves, and of their importance
+in the world; have only just left the simple objectiveness of the child
+who wants to look at the world, and have barely begun to feel what it is
+to be an actor rather than a spectator.
+
+Not that any living being could be less selfish or vain, or less of an
+egotist than Dulcie. If she saw things chiefly as they were related to
+herself, it was because this problem of her life was rather an intricate
+one. Her position was not sufficiently simple to suit her simple nature.
+
+Her mother, who had been of Spanish descent, had died young; her father
+had married again. He was the sort of man who always married again, and
+if his present wife, with whom he was rather in love, had passed away he
+would have undoubtedly married a third time. Some men are born husbands;
+they have a passion for domesticity, for a fireside, for a home. Yet,
+curiously, these men very rarely stay at home. Apparently what they want
+is to have a place to get away from.
+
+The new stepmother, who was young and rather pretty, was not unkind, but
+was bored and indifferent to the little girl. Dulcie was sensitive;
+since her father's second marriage she had always felt in the way.
+Whether her stepmother was being charming to her husband, or to some
+other man--she was always charming to somebody--Dulcie felt continually
+that she was not wanted. Her father was kind and casual. He told
+everyone what he believed, that his second wife was an ideal person to
+bring up his little daughter.
+
+Therefore it came upon him as a surprise when she told him she was grown
+up, and still more that she wished to leave home and be a nurse. Mrs.
+Clay had made no objection; the girl rather depressed her, for she felt
+she ought to like her more than she did, so she 'backed up' with
+apparent good nature the great desire to go out and do something.
+
+Dulcie had inherited three hundred a year from her mother. Her father
+had about the same amount of his own to live on. He believed that he
+added to it by mild gambling, and perhaps by talking a good deal at his
+club of how he had been born to make a fortune but had had no luck. His
+second wife had no money.
+
+Dulcie, therefore, was entirely independent. No obstacles were placed in
+her way--the particular form that her ambition took was suggested by the
+war, but in any case she would have done something. She had taken the
+usual means of getting into a hospital.
+
+Gentle, industrious, obedient and unselfish, she got on well. Her
+prettiness gained her no enemies among the women as she was too serious
+about her work at this time to make use of her beauty by attracting men.
+Yet Dulcie was unusually feminine; she had a natural gift for nursing,
+for housekeeping, for domesticity. She was not artistic and was as
+indifferent to abstractions and to general ideas as the ideal average
+woman. She was tactful, sweet, and, she had been called at school,
+rather a doormat. Her appearance was distinguished and she was not at
+all ordinary. It is far from ordinary, indeed it is very rare, to be the
+ideal average woman. She took great interest in detail; she would lie
+awake at night thinking about how she would go the next day to a certain
+inexpensive shop to get a piece of ribbon for one part of her dress to
+match a piece of ribbon in another part--neither of which would ever be
+seen by any human being.
+
+Such men as she saw liked and admired her. Her gradual success led her
+to being sent abroad to a military hospital. She inspired confidence,
+not because she had initiative, but because one knew she would do
+exactly as she was told, which is, in itself, a great quality. At
+Boulogne she made the acquaintance at once of Aylmer, and of _the coup
+de foudre_. She worshipped him at first sight. So she thought herself
+fortunate when she was allowed to come back to London with him. Under
+orders she continued her assiduous attention. Everyone said she was a
+perfect nurse.
+
+Occasionally she went to see her father. He greeted her with warmth and
+affection, and told her all about how, on account of racing being
+stopped, he was gradually becoming a pauper. When she began telling him
+of the events in which she was absorbed he answered by giving her news
+of the prospects for the Cambridgeshire. In the little den in the house
+in West Kensington, where he lived, she would come in and say in a
+soft voice:
+
+'Papa dear, you know I shan't be able to stop much longer.'
+
+'Much longer where?'
+
+'Why, with my patient, Mr Ross--Mr Aylmer Ross.'
+
+'Shan't you? Mind you, my dear, there are two good three-year-olds that
+are not to be sneezed at.' He shook his head solemnly.
+
+It had never occurred to Dulcie for a moment to sneeze at
+three-year-olds. She hardly knew what they were.
+
+'But what do you advise for me, papa?'
+
+'My dear child, I can't advise. You can't select with any approach to
+confidence between Buttercup and Beautiful Doll. Mind you, I'm very much
+inclined to think that More Haste may win yet. Look how he ran in
+August, when nobody knew anything about him!'
+
+'Yes, I know, papa, but--'
+
+She gave it up.
+
+'Go and see your mother, dear; go and ask her about it,' and he returned
+to the racing intelligence.
+
+Strange that a man who had not enough to live on should think he could
+add to his income by backing losers. Still, such was Mr Clay's view of
+life. Besides, he was just going out; he was always just going out.
+
+She would then go and see her stepmother, who greeted her most
+affectionately.
+
+Dulcie only kept half her little income for herself at present, a
+considerable advantage to a woman like Mrs Clay, who declared she was
+'expected to dress up to a certain standard, though, of course, simply
+during war-time.' She would kiss the girl and drag her up to her bedroom
+to show her a new coat and skirt, or send the general servant up to
+bring down the marvellously cheap little tea-gown that had just
+come home.
+
+Both her parents, it will be seen, were ready enough to talk to her, but
+they were not prepared to listen. All the warmth and affection that she
+had in her nature very naturally was concentrated on her patient.
+
+Dulcie now sat in the window-seat, wondering what to do. She was sadly
+thinking what would happen when the time came for her to leave.
+
+In her mind she knew perfectly well that what several people had said
+was true: the profession she had chosen was too arduous for her physical
+strength. Besides, now she could not bear the idea of nursing anyone
+else after Aylmer. She was trying to make up her mind to take something
+else--and she could not think what.
+
+A girl like Dulcie Clay, who has studied only one thing really
+thoroughly, could be fitted only to be a companion either to children,
+whom she adored, or to some tedious elderly lady with fads. She knew she
+would not do for a secretary; she had not the education nor the gift
+for it.
+
+The thought of going back to the stepmother who showed so clearly her
+satisfaction and high spirits in having got rid of her, and of being
+again the unwanted third in the little house in West Kensington, was
+quite unbearable.
+
+She had told much of her position to Edith, who was so sympathetic and
+clever. It would have been a dream of hers, a secret dream, to teach
+Edith's little girl, whom she had once seen, and loved. Yet that would
+have been in some ways rather difficult. As she looked out of the
+window, darkened with fog, she sighed. If she had been the governess at
+Edith's house, she would be constantly seeing Aylmer. She knew, of
+course, all about Aylmer's passion. It would certainly be better than
+nothing to see him sometimes. But the position would have been painful.
+Also, she disliked Bruce. He had given her one or two looks that seemed
+rather to demand admiration than to express it; he had been so kind as
+to give her a few hints on nursing; how to look after a convalescent;
+and had been exceedingly frank and kind in confiding to her his own
+symptoms. As she was a hospital nurse, it seemed to him natural to talk
+rather of his own indisposition than on any other subject. Dulcie was
+rather highly strung, and Bruce got terribly on her nerves; she
+marvelled at Edith's patience. But then Edith.... No, she could not go
+to the Ottleys.
+
+Her other gift--a beautiful soprano voice--also was of hardly any use to
+her, as she was now placed. When she sang she expressed herself more
+completely than at any other time, but that also she had not been taught
+thoroughly; she had been taught nothing thoroughly.
+
+A companion! Though she had not absolutely to earn her living, and kept
+only half of her little inheritance for herself, what was to become of
+her? Well, she wouldn't think about it any more that day. At any rate
+Aylmer talked as though she was to remain some time longer.
+
+When he had returned suddenly to the house in Jermyn Street, a relative
+had hastily obtained for him the necessary servants; his former valet
+was at the front; they were all new to him and to his ways, and he had
+no housekeeper. Dulcie did the housekeeping--could she take that place
+in his house? No, she knew that she was too young, and everyone else
+would have said she was too pretty. Only as a nurse would it be correct
+for her to be his companion.
+
+And from fear of embarrassing him she was hardly ever with him alone.
+She thought he was abrupt, more cool to her since their return, and
+guessed the reason; it was for fear of compromising her. How angelic of
+him; what a wonderful man--how fortunate his first wife must have been.
+And the boy, Teddy--the charming boy so like his father, whom she had
+only seen for a day or two before he left to go out. Teddy's presence
+would help to make it more difficult for her to remain.
+
+In that very short time the boy had distinctly shown her by his marked
+attention how much he admired her. He thought her lovely. He was devoted
+to music and she had sung to him.
+
+Aylmer also liked music, but apparently did not care to hear her sing.
+On the occasion that she did, it seemed to irritate him. Indeed, she
+knew she was merely the most amateurish of musicians, and could just
+accompany herself in a few songs, though the voice itself was a rare
+gift.... How perfect Aylmer had been!... There was a sharp ring. She
+closed the book, turned out the little electric lamp and went
+downstairs.
+
+She was looking ideally pretty in the becoming uniform, but uniforms are
+always becoming, whatever the uniforms or the people may be. The reason
+of this is too obscure to fathom. One would say that to dress to suit
+oneself would be more becoming to men and women. Yet, in fact, the
+limitation and the want of variety in this sort of dress had a singular
+attraction. However, if she had chosen it to suit her, nothing could
+have been more becoming. The severity of the form, the dull colour,
+relieved by the large scarlet cross, showed off to the greatest
+advantage her dense dark hair, her Madonna-like face and the slim yet
+not angular lines of her figure. Dulcie's beauty was of a kind that is
+thrown into relief by excessive plainness of dress.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+As she came in, Aylmer looked at her with more observation than usual,
+and he acknowledged to himself that she was pretty--remarkably pretty,
+quite a picture, as people say, and he liked her, as one likes a
+confidante, a reliable friend. He trusted her, remembering how he had
+given himself away to her that dreadful day in the Boulogne hospital....
+And she had another quality that pleased him immensely; she was neither
+coquettish nor affected, but simple and serious. She appeared to think
+solely of her duties, and in Aylmer's opinion that was just what a nurse
+should do.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But Edith's remark that Dulcie was madly in love with him had made a
+certain impression on his mind. Indeed, everything Edith said, even a
+merely trivial observation, was of importance to Aylmer. Edith wouldn't
+have said that unless she meant it. If it was true, did it matter?
+Aylmer was very free from vanity and masculine coquetry. He had a good
+deal of pride and great self-respect. Like almost every human being who
+is superior to the average, he didn't think ill of himself; there were
+things that he was proud of. He was proud, secretly, of having gone into
+the army and of having been wounded. It made him feel he was not on the
+shelf, not useless and superannuated. He took a certain pride also in
+his judgement, his excellent judgement on pictures and literature.
+Perhaps, even, having been a spoilt only child, he was privately proud
+of some of his faults. He knew he was extravagant and impatient. The
+best of everything was barely good enough for Aylmer. Long before he
+inherited the property that had come to him a year ago he had never been
+the sort of young man who would manage on little; who would, for
+example, go to the gallery by Underground or omnibus to see a play or to
+the opera. He required comfort, elbow-room, ease. For that reason he had
+worked really hard at the Bar so as to have enough money to live
+according to his ideas. Not that he took any special interest in the
+Bar. His ideal had always been--if it could be combined--to be either a
+soldier or a man of leisure, devoted to sport, literature and art.
+
+Now he had asserted himself as a soldier, and he meant to go back. But
+he looked forward to leisure to enjoy and indulge his favourite tastes,
+if possible, with the only woman he had ever been deeply in love with.
+
+He was particularly attractive to women, who liked his strong will and
+depth of feeling, his assertive manner and that feeling of trust that he
+inspired. Women always know when a man will not treat them badly.
+Teddy's mother, his first wife, he had really married out of pity.
+
+When she died everyone regarded it as a tragedy except himself. He still
+worshipped his mother, whose little miniature he kept always by him, and
+he had always fancied that Edith resembled her. This was simply an _idée
+d'amoureux_, for there was no resemblance. His mother, according to the
+miniature, had the dark hair and innocent expression that were the
+fashion at the time, while Edith was fair, with rather dark eyebrows,
+grey eyes and the mouth and chin characteristic of Burne-Jones's and
+Rossetti's pictures. But though she might be in appearance a
+Burne-Jones, she was very modern. His favourite little photograph of her
+that he had shown, in his moment of despair, to Dulcie, showed a
+charming face, sensuous yet thoughtful, under a large hat. She had fur
+up to her chin, and was holding a muff; it was a snapshot taken the
+winter before they had parted.
+
+Aylmer worshipped these two women: his dead mother and the living woman
+whom he had never given up entirely. How unlike were both the types to
+Dulcie Clay, with her waved Madonna hair, dark skin, large, clear blue
+eyes, softened by eyelashes of extraordinary length. Her chin was very
+small, her mouth fine, rather thin; she had a pathetic expression; one
+could imagine her attending, helping, nursing, holding a child in her
+arms, but not his intellectual equal, guiding and directing like his
+mother; and without the social brilliance and charm of Edith.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seeing him looking at her with a long, observant look, Dulcie became
+nervous and trembled slightly. She waited for him to speak.
+
+'Come here, Miss Clay. I want to speak to you.'
+
+Instantly she sat down by him.
+
+'I wanted to say--you've been most awfully kind to me.'
+
+Dulcie murmured something.
+
+'I'm nearly well now--aren't I?'
+
+'Dr Wood says you can go out driving next week.'
+
+'Yes; but I don't mean that. I mean, I'm well in myself?'
+
+He spoke quickly, almost impatiently.
+
+'The doctor says you're still suffering from nervous shock;' she
+answered in a toneless voice, professionally.
+
+'Still, very soon I shan't need any attendance that a valet or a
+housekeeper couldn't give me, shall I?'
+
+'No, I suppose not.'
+
+'Well, my dear Miss Clay--of course, I shall hate you to go,' he said
+politely, 'but don't you think we ought to be thinking--'
+
+He stopped.
+
+She answered:
+
+'Of course I'll go whenever you and Dr Wood think it right.'
+
+'You see,' he went on, 'I know I shall need a housekeeper, especially
+when Teddy comes back. He's coming back on leave next week'--Aylmer
+glanced at the telegram in his hand--'and, well--'
+
+'You don't think I could--'
+
+'Of course you would make a splendid housekeeper,' he laughed. 'You are
+already, but--'
+
+She didn't wish to make him uncomfortable. Evidently he was thinking
+what she knew herself. But she was so reluctant to go.
+
+'Don't you think I could remain here for a little while?' she said
+modestly. 'To do the housekeeping and be useful? You see, I've nowhere
+to go really.'
+
+'But, my dear girl, excuse me, don't you see you're rather too--young.
+It would be selfish of me to let you.'
+
+He wished to say that it would be compromising, but a certain
+consciousness prevented his saying it. He felt he would be ridiculous if
+he put it into words.
+
+'Just as you like. How soon do you think I ought to go?'
+
+Though she tried not to show it, there was a look almost of despair in
+her face. Her eyes looked startled, as if trying not to shed tears.
+
+He was very sorry for her, but tried to hide it by a cool and impatient
+manner.
+
+'Well, shall we say in about a fortnight?'
+
+'Certainly.' She looked down.
+
+'I shall miss you awfully,' he said, speaking more quickly than usual to
+get it over.
+
+She gave a very small smile.
+
+'Er--and then may I ask what you're thinking of doing next?'
+
+'That was just what I was thinking about,' she answered rather naïvely.
+'There are so few things I can do.'
+
+Then fearing this sentence sounded like begging to remain, she hastily
+added:
+
+'And of course if I don't go home I might be a companion or look after
+children.'
+
+'I wonder if Mrs Ottley--' began Aylmer. 'She has a dear little girl,
+and I've heard her say she would soon want someone.'
+
+'Dilly?' said Dulcie, with a slight smile.
+
+'Yes, Dilly.'
+
+There was a moment of intense awkwardness between them.
+
+Then Dulcie said:
+
+'I'm afraid that wouldn't quite do. I'm not clever enough.'
+
+'Oh, rot. You know enough for a child like that. I shall speak to Mrs
+Ottley about it.'
+
+'It's very, very kind of you, but I would rather not. I think I shall
+try to be a companion.'
+
+'What's the name of that woman,' Aylmer said good-naturedly, 'that Irish
+woman, wife of one of the Cabinet Ministers, who came to the hospital at
+Boulogne and wanted to have lessons?'
+
+'Lady Conroy,' Dulcie answered.
+
+'Yes, Lady Conroy. Supposing that she needed a secretary or companion,
+would you dislike that?'
+
+'Oh, no, I should like it very much.'
+
+'Right. I'll get Mrs Ottley to speak to her about it. She said she was
+coming to London, didn't she?'
+
+'Yes. I got to know her fairly well,' said Dulcie. 'She's very
+charming.'
+
+'She's celebrated for her bad memory,' Aylmer said, with a smile.
+
+'She declares she forgets her own name sometimes. Once she got into a
+taxi and told the man to drive home. When he asked where that was, she
+said it was his business to know. She had forgotten her address.'
+
+They both laughed.
+
+'I'll go tomorrow,' said Dulcie, 'and see my stepmother, if you don't
+want me in the afternoon. Or, perhaps, the day you go for a drive would
+be better.'
+
+'Tell me, Miss Clay, aren't you happy at home?'
+
+'Oh, it isn't that. They don't want me. I'm in the way. You see, they've
+got used to my being out of the house.'
+
+'But, excuse me--you don't earn your own living really?'
+
+'No, that isn't really necessary. But I don't want to live at home.'
+
+Her face showed such a decided distaste to the idea that he said no
+more.
+
+'You're looking very well today,' Dulcie said.
+
+He sighed. 'I feel rather rotten. I can't read, can't settle to
+anything.'
+
+She looked at him sympathetically. He felt impelled to go on.
+
+'I'm a bit worried,' he continued.
+
+'About your son?'
+
+'No, not about him so much, though I wish he would get a flesh wound and
+be sent back,' his father said, laughing. 'But about myself.'
+
+She looked at him in silence.
+
+'You know--what I told you.'
+
+She made no answer, looking away to give him time to speak.
+
+'I've made a suggestion,' he said slowly.... 'If it's accepted it'll
+alter all my life. Of course I shall go out again. But still it will
+alter my life.'
+
+Suddenly, overpowered by the longing for sympathy, he said to himself
+aloud.
+
+'I wonder if there's a chance.'
+
+'I don't know what it is,' she murmured, but instinctively she had
+guessed something of it.
+
+'I don't want to think about it any more at present.'
+
+'Shall I read to you?'
+
+'Yes, do.'
+
+She quietly arranged a pillow behind him and took up a newspaper.
+
+He often liked her to read to him; he never listened to a word of it,
+but it was soothing.
+
+She had taken up 'This Morning's Gossip' from _The Daily Mail_, and she
+began in the soft, low, distinct voice reading from The Rambler:
+
+'Lord Redesdale says that when Lord Haldane's scheme for a Territorial
+Army was on foot he took it to the--'
+
+Aylmer stopped her.
+
+'No--not that'
+
+'Shall I read you a novel?'
+
+'I think I should like to hear some poetry today,' he answered.
+
+She had taken up a pretty, tiny little book that lay on his table,
+called _Lyrists of the Restoration_, and began to read aloud:
+
+5165
+  '_Phyllis is my only joy,
+  Faithless as the winds or seas,
+  Sometimes cunning, sometimes coy,
+  Yet she never fails to please_.'
+
+'Oh, please, stop,' Aylmer cried.
+
+She looked up.
+
+'It tinkles like an old-fashioned musical-box. Try another.'
+
+'What would you like?' she asked, smiling.
+
+He took up a French book and passed it to her.
+
+'You'll think I'm very changeable, but I should like this. Read me the
+beginning of _La-Bos_.'
+
+And she began.
+
+He listened with his eyes closed, lulled by the curious technique, with
+its constant repetitions and jewelled style, charmed altogether. She
+read French fluently enough.
+
+'That's delightful,' he said, but he soon noticed she was stumbling over
+the words. No, it was not suitable for her to read. He was obstinate,
+however, and was determined she should read him something.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+So they fell back on _Northanger Abbey_.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Lady Conroy had arrived home in Carlton House Terrace, complaining of a
+headache. She remained on the sofa in her sitting-room for about five
+minutes, during which time she believed she had been dozing. In reality
+she had been looking for her glasses, dropping her bag and ringing the
+bell to send a servant for a handkerchief.
+
+She was a handsome woman of thirty-eight, with black hair turning a
+little grey, grey Irish eyes and a wonderfully brilliant complexion. She
+must have been a remarkably good-looking girl, but now, to her great
+vexation, she was growing a little too fat. She varied between
+treatments, which she scarcely began before she forgot them, and utter
+indifference to her appearance, when she declared she was much happier,
+letting herself go in loose gowns, and eating everything of which she
+had deprived herself for a day or two for the sake of her figure.
+
+Lady Conroy had often compared herself to the old woman who lived in a
+shoe, because of her large family. Her friends declared she didn't
+remember how many children she had. She loved them, but there were
+certainly weeks when she didn't see the younger ones, for she was
+constantly absorbed in various different subjects. Besides, she spent
+most of her life in looking for things.
+
+She was hopelessly careless and had no memory at all.
+
+Suddenly she glanced at the watch on her wrist, compared it with the
+splendid Empire clock on the mantelpiece, and went with a bewildered
+look to the telephone on her writing-desk. Having gone through a
+considerable amount of torture by calling up the wrong number and
+absently ringing off as soon as she had got the right one, she at last
+found herself talking to Edith.
+
+'Oh, is that you, dear? How lucky to catch you! Yes.... Yes.... I came
+back yesterday. Dying to see you. Can't you come round and see me? Oh,
+you've got on your hat; you were just coming? Of course, I forgot! I
+knew I had an appointment with someone! How soon will you be here?...
+In a quarter of an hour? Good! Could you tell me the time, dear?...
+Four o'clock, thanks. My watch is wrong, and they've never wound the
+clock up all the time I've been away. Good-bye. Don't be long.... How
+soon did you say you could come?... Oh, about a quarter of an hour! Do
+hurry!... I say, I've something very particular to tell you. It's about...
+Oh, I'm detaining you. Very well. I see. Au revoir.'
+
+As she waited for her visitor, Lady Conroy walked round the room. Nearly
+everything on which she cast her eye reminded her of a different train
+of thought, so that by the time Edith was announced by the footman she
+had forgotten what she wanted to tell her.
+
+'How sweet you look, dear!' cried Lady Conroy, welcoming her most
+affectionately. 'How dear of you to come. You can't think how I was
+longing to see you. Can you tell me what day it is?'
+
+'Why, it's Thursday,' Edith said, laughing. 'Don't you remember? You
+wired to me to come and see you today.'
+
+'Of course; so I did. But, surely, I didn't ask you to come on
+Thursday?'
+
+'I assure you that you did.'
+
+'Fancy! How stupid of me! Thursday is my day at home. Dear, dear, dear.
+I forgot to tell Standing; there will be no proper tea. Oh, I've brought
+such a nice French maid--a perfect wonder. She knows everything. She
+always knows what I want. One moment, dear; I'll ring for her and give
+her orders. Wait a minute, though.' She took Edith's hand and patted it
+affectionately. 'Nobody knows I've come back; it'll be all right. We
+shan't have any visitors. I'm bursting with news to tell you.'
+
+'And I'm longing to hear what it is.'
+
+Lady Conroy's charming, animated face became blank. She frowned
+slightly, and a vague look came into her eyes--the pathetic look of
+someone who is trying to remember.
+
+'Wait a minute--what is it? Oh yes. You know that woman you introduced
+me to at Dieppe?'
+
+'What woman?'
+
+'Don't you know, dear? Good heavens, it was you who introduced her--you
+ought to know.'
+
+'Do you mean Madame Frabelle?' asked Edith, who was accustomed to Lady
+Conroy, and could follow the drift of her mind.
+
+'Capital! That's it. How wonderful of you! Yes, Madame Frabelle. How do
+you like her?'
+
+'Very much. But I didn't introduce her to you. You sent her to me.'
+
+'Did I? Well, it's very much the same. Look here, Edith dear. This is
+what I want to ask you. I remember now. Oh, do you mind ringing the bell
+for me? I must tell Marie about the tea, in case people call.'
+
+Edith obeyed.
+
+'You see, dear,' went on her hostess, 'I've undertaken a terrific number
+of things--Belgian refugees, weekly knitting, hundreds of societies--all
+sorts of war work. Well, you know how busy I am, even without all that,
+don't you? Thank heaven the boys are at school, but there are the
+children in the nursery, and I don't leave them--at least hardly
+ever--to their nurse. I look after them myself--when I think of it. Oh,
+they've grown such heavenly angels--too sweet! And how's your
+pet, Dilly?'
+
+'Very well. But do go on.'
+
+'How right of you to keep me to the point, darling. That's where you're
+such a comfort always. Do you mind passing me my glasses? Thanks.'
+
+She put them on and immediately took them off. She only needed them for
+reading.
+
+'Oh yes. I wanted to consult you about something, Edith.'
+
+The footman came in.
+
+'Oh, Standing, send Marie to me at once.... Bother the man, how he keeps
+worrying! Well, Edith dear, as I've got all this tremendous lot of work
+to do, I've made up my mind, for the sake of my health, I simply must
+have a sort of secretary or companion. You see?'
+
+'I quite see. You spoke of it before.'
+
+'Well, how do you think that woman you introduced to me, Madame
+Frabelle--how do you think she would--? Oh, Marie, today's my day at
+home; isn't it, Edith?'
+
+'Today is Thursday,' said Edith.
+
+'Thursday! Oh, my dear. Thursday's not my day at home. Well, anyhow,
+never mind about that. What was I saying, Marie?'
+
+Marie remained respectfully waiting, with a tight French smile on her
+intelligent face.
+
+'Oh, I know what it was. Marie, I want you to look after certain things
+for me here--anyhow, at present. I want you to tell the cook that I want
+tea at four o'clock. Oh no, it's half-past four--well, at five. And
+there's something I particularly want for tea. What is it?' she asked,
+looking at Edith. Immediately answering herself she said: 'I know, I
+want muffins.'
+
+'Madame want "nuffing"?' said Marie.
+
+'No, no, no! Don't be so stupid. It's an English thing, Marie; you
+wouldn't understand. Something I've forgotten to tell the cook about.
+It's so cosy I always think in the winter in London. It always cheers me
+up. You know, what is it?... I know--muffins--_muffins_!' she said the
+word carefully to the French maid.
+
+Edith came to the rescue.
+
+'Tell the cook,' she said, 'for madame, that she wants some muffins for
+tea.'
+
+'Oh, oui. Ah, oui, bien, madame. Merci, madame.'
+
+As the maid was going away Lady Conroy called out:
+
+'Oh, tell the cook it doesn't matter. I won't have them today.'
+
+'Bien, madame.'
+
+Edith was already in a somewhat hilarious mood. Lady Conroy didn't
+irritate her; she amused her almost more than any friend she had.
+Besides, once she could be got to concentrate on any one subject, nobody
+was more entertaining. Edith's English humour delighted in her friend's
+Irish wit.
+
+There was something singularly Irish in the way Lady Conroy managed to
+make a kind of muddle and untidiness all round her, when she had been in
+a room a minute or two. When she had entered the room, it was a
+fine-looking apartment, rather sparsely furnished, with very little in
+it, all severest First Empire style. There were a few old portraits on
+striped pale green walls, and one large basket of hot-house flowers on a
+small table. Yet, since her entrance, the room already looked as if
+several people had been spending the week in it without tidying it up.
+Almost mechanically Edith picked up her bag, books, newspaper,
+cigarettes and the glasses.
+
+'Well, then, you don't think Madame Frabelle would do?' said Lady
+Conroy.
+
+'My dear Lady Conroy, Madame Frabelle wouldn't dream of going as a
+companion or secretary. You want a young girl. She's about fifteen years
+older than you are and she's staying with me as my guest. I shouldn't
+even suggest such a thing.'
+
+'Why not? It wouldn't be at all a hard place.'
+
+'No, I know. But she doesn't want a place. She's very well off,
+remember.'
+
+'Good heavens, she can't have much to do then if she's only staying with
+you,' said Lady Conroy.
+
+'Oh, she has plenty of engagements. No, I shouldn't advise Madame
+Frabelle. But I do know of someone.'
+
+'Do you? Oh, darling Edith, how sweet of you. Oh, just ring the bell for
+me, will you?'
+
+Edith rang.
+
+'I want to send for Marie, my maid, and tell her to order some muffins
+for tea. I forgot to tell the cook.'
+
+'But you have already ordered and countermanded them.'
+
+'Oh, have I?--so I have! Never mind, don't ring. It doesn't matter. Who
+do you know, dear?'
+
+Standing appeared in answer to the bell.
+
+'What do you want, Standing? You mustn't keep bothering and interrupting
+me like this. Oh, tea? Yes, bring tea. And tell Marie I shan't want her
+after all.'
+
+Lady Conroy leant back against her cushions and with a sigh went on:
+
+'You see, I'm in the most terrible muddle, dear Edith. I don't know
+where to turn.'
+
+She turned to her writing-table and opened it.
+
+'Look at this, now,' she said rather triumphantly. 'This is all about my
+war work. Oh no, it isn't. It's an advertisement from a washer-woman.
+Gracious, ought I to keep it, do you think? No, I don't think I need.'
+
+She folded it up and put it carefully away again.
+
+'Don't you think yourself I need someone?'
+
+'Yes, I do. I think it would be very convenient for you to have a nice
+girl with a good memory to keep your things in order.'
+
+'That's it,' cried Lady Conroy, delighted, as she lit a cigarette.
+'That's it--someone who will prevent me dropping cigarette ash all over
+the room and remember my engagements and help me with my war work and
+write my letters and do the telephoning. That's all I shall want. Of
+course, if she could do a little needlework--No, no, that wouldn't do.
+You couldn't expect her to do brainwork as well as needlework.'
+
+Edith broke in.
+
+'Do you remember mentioning to me a girl you met at Boulogne--a nurse
+called Dulcie Clay?'
+
+'Perfectly well,' answered Lady Conroy, puffing away at her cigarette,
+and obviously not speaking the truth.
+
+Edith laughed.
+
+'No, my dear, you don't. But it doesn't matter. Well, this girl has been
+nursing Mr Aylmer Ross, and he doesn't need her any more--at least he
+won't after next week. Would you see her and judge for yourself? You
+might try her.'
+
+'I'm sure I shall if I take her. I'm afraid I'm a trying person. I try
+everyone dreadfully. Oh, by the way, Edith, I met such a perfect angel
+coming over. He was a wounded soldier. He belongs to the Black Watch.
+Doesn't the name Black Watch thrill you? He's in the Irish Guards, so,
+of course, my heart went out to him.'
+
+'The Irish Guards as well?'
+
+'Oh no. That was another man.'
+
+She put her hand to her forehead.
+
+'I'm worrying you, dear, with my bad memory. I'm so sorry. Well, then,
+you'll see Madame Frabelle for me?'
+
+'I will if you like, but not as a companion. It's Miss Clay.'
+
+'Miss Clay,' repeated Lady Conroy. 'Ah, here's tea. Do you take milk and
+sugar. Edith?'
+
+'Let me pour it out,' said Edith, to whom it was maddening to see the
+curious things Lady Conroy did with the tea-tray. She was pouring tea
+into the sugar basin, looking up at Edith with the sweetest smile.
+
+'I can't stay long,' Edith went on. 'I'm very sorry, dear, but you
+remember I told you I'm in a hurry.... I've an appointment at
+Landi's studio.'
+
+'Landi? And who is that?'
+
+'You know him--the composer--Sir Tito.'
+
+'Oh, darling Sir Tito! Of course I do know him!' She smiled
+reminiscently. 'Won't you have anything to eat, dear? Do have a muffin!
+Oh, bother, there are none. I wonder how it is cook always forgets? Then
+you're going to send Madame Frabelle to see me the day after tomorrow?'
+
+Edith took both her hands and shook them, laughing, as she stood up.
+
+'I will arrange to send Miss Clay to see you, and if you like her, if
+you don't mind waiting about ten days or a fortnight, you might engage
+her. It would be doing her a great kindness. She's not happy at home.'
+
+'Oh, poor girl!'
+
+'And she went as a nurse,' continued Edith, 'chiefly because she
+couldn't think of anything else to do. She isn't really strong enough
+for nursing.'
+
+'Isn't she? How sad, poor girl. It reminds me of a girl I met at
+Boulogne. So pretty and nice. In very much the same position really. She
+also wasn't happy at home--'
+
+'This is the same girl,' said Edith. 'You wrote to me about her.'
+
+'Did I? Good heavens, how extraordinary! What a memory you've got,
+Edith. Well, then, she's sure to do.'
+
+'Still, you'd better have an interview,' said Edith. 'Don't trouble to
+ring. I must fly, dear. We'll soon meet again.'
+
+Lady Conroy followed her to the door into the hall, pouring forth
+questions, sympathy and cheerful communications about the charming young
+man in the Black Watch. Just before Edith escaped her friend said:
+
+'Oh, by the by, I meant to ask you something. Who is Madame Frabelle?'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Sir Tito lived in a flat in Mayfair, on the second floor of a large
+corner house. On the ground floor was his studio, which had two
+entrances. The studio was a large, square, white room, containing a
+little platform for pupils. A narrow shelf ran all the way round the
+dado; this shelf was entirely filled with the most charming collection
+of English and French china, little cottages, birds and figures. Above
+the shelf was a picture-rail, which again was filled all the way round
+with signed photographs of friends. Everything in the room was white,
+even the piano was _laqué_ white, and the furniture, extremely luxurious
+and comfortable, was in colour a pale and yet dull pink. A curtain
+separated it from another smaller room, which again had a separate
+entrance into the hall on the left, and, through a very small
+dressing-room, led into the street on the right side.
+
+Sir Tito was waiting for Edith, spick, span and debonair as always
+(although during the war he had discarded his buttonhole). He was
+occupied, as he usually was in his leisure time, not in playing the
+piano or composing, but--in making photograph frames! This was his
+hobby, and people often said that he took more pleasure in the carving,
+cutting out, gumming and sticking together of these objects than in
+composing the melodies that were known and loved all over the world.
+
+As soon as Edith came in he showed her a tiny frame carved with
+rosebuds.
+
+'Regarde,' he said, his eyes beaming. 'Voilà! C'est mignon,
+n'est-ce-pas? On dirait un petit coeur! Ravissante, hein?' He gazed at
+it lovingly.
+
+'Very sweet,' said Edith, laughing. 'Who is it for?'
+
+'Why, it's for your _mignonne_, Dilly. I've cut out a photograph of hers
+in the shape of a heart. Gentil, n'est ce pas?'
+
+He showed it to her with childish pleasure. Then he put all traces of
+the work carefully away in a drawer and drew Edith near to the fire.
+
+'I've just a quarter of an hour to give you,' said Sir Tito, suddenly
+turning into a serious man of business. And, indeed, he always had many
+appointments, not a few of which were on some subject connected with
+love affairs. Like Aylmer, but in a different way, Sir Tito was always
+being consulted, but, oddly enough, while it was the parents and
+guardians usually who went to Aylmer, husbands worried about their
+wives, mothers about their children; to the older man it was more
+frequently the culprit or the confidant himself or herself who came to
+confide and ask for help and advice.
+
+Edith said:
+
+'The dreadful thing I've to tell you, Landi, is that I've completely
+changed.'
+
+'Comment?'
+
+'Yes. I'm in love with him all over again.'
+
+'C'est vrai?'
+
+'Yes. I don't know how and I don't know why. When he first made that
+suggestion, it seemed wild--impossible. But the things he said--how
+absolutely true it is. Landi, my life's been wasted, utterly wasted.'
+
+Landi said nothing.
+
+'I believe I was deceiving myself,' she went on. 'I've got so accustomed
+to living this sort of half life I've become almost _abrutie_, as you
+would say. I didn't realise how much I cared for him. Now I know I
+always adored him.'
+
+'But you were quite contented.'
+
+'Because I made myself so; because I resolved to be satisfied. But,
+after all, there's something in what he says, Landi. My life with Bruce
+is only a makeshift. Nothing but tact, tact, tact. Oh, I'm so tired of
+tact!' She sighed. 'It seems to me now really too hard that I should
+again have such a great opportunity and should throw it away. You see,
+it is an opportunity, if I love him--and I'm not deceiving myself now.
+I'm in love with him. The more I think about it the more lovely it seems
+to me. It would be an ideal life, Landi.'
+
+He was still silent.
+
+She continued:
+
+'You see, Aylmer knows so well how much the children are to me, and he
+would never ask me to leave them. There's no question of my ever leaving
+them. And Bruce wouldn't mind. Bruce would be only too thankful for me
+to take them. And there's another thing--though I despised the idea at
+the time, there's a good deal in it. I mean that Aylmer's well off, so I
+should never be a burden. He would love to take the responsibility of us
+all. I would leave my income to Bruce; he would be quite comfortable and
+independent. Oh, he would take it. He might be a little cross, but it
+wouldn't last, Landi. He would be better off. He'd find
+somebody--someone who would look after him, perhaps, and make him quite
+happy and comfortable. You're shocked?'
+
+'Ça ne m'étonne pas. It's the reaction,' said Landi, nodding.
+
+'How wonderful of you to understand! I haven't seen him again, you know.
+I've just been thinking. In fact, I'm surprised at myself. But the more
+I reflect on what he said, the more wonderful it seems.... Think how
+he's cared for me all this time!'
+
+'Sans doute. You know that he adores you. But, Edith, it's all very
+well--you put like that--but could you go through with it?'
+
+'I believe I could now,' she answered. 'I begin to long to. You see, I
+mistook my own feelings, Landi; they seemed dulled. I thought I could
+live without love--but why should I? What is it that's made me change
+so? Why do I feel so frightened now at the idea of losing my happiness?'
+
+'C'est la guerre,' said Sir Tito.
+
+'The war? What has that to do with it?'
+
+'Everything. Unconsciously it affects people. Though you yourself are
+not fighting, Aylmer has risked his life, and is going to risk it again.
+This impresses you. To many temperaments things seem to matter less just
+now. People are reckless.'
+
+'Is it that?' asked Edith. 'Perhaps it is. But I was so completely
+deceived in myself.'
+
+'I always knew you could be in love with him,' said Landi. 'But wait a
+moment, Edith--need the remedy be so violent? I don't ask you to live
+without love. Why should a woman live without the very thing she was
+created for? But you know you hate publicity--vulgar scandal. Nobody
+loathes it as you do.'
+
+'It doesn't seem to matter now so much,' Edith said.
+
+'It's the war.'
+
+'Well, whatever's the cause, all I can tell you is that I'm beginning to
+think I shall do it! I want to!... I can't bear to refuse again. I
+haven't seen him since our talk. I changed gradually, alone, just
+thinking. And then you say--'
+
+'Many people have love in their lives without a violent public scandal,'
+he repeated.
+
+'Yes, I know. I understand what you mean. But I hate deceit, Landi. I
+don't think I could lead a double life. And even if I would, he
+wouldn't!'
+
+She spoke rather proudly.
+
+'Pauvre garçon!' said Sir Tito. 'Je l'admire.'
+
+'So do I,' said Edith. 'Aylmer's not a man who could shake hands with
+Bruce and be friends and deceive him. And you know, before, when I
+begged him to remain ... my friend ... he simply wouldn't. He always
+said he despised the man who would accept the part of a tame cat. And he
+doesn't believe in Platonic friendship: Aylmer's too honest, too _real_
+for that.'
+
+'But, Edith, oh, remember, before,' said Landi taking her hand, 'even
+when Bruce ran away with another woman, you couldn't bear the idea
+of divorce.'
+
+'I know. But I may have been wrong. Besides, I didn't care for him as I
+do now. And I'm older now.'
+
+'Isn't this rather sudden, my dear?'
+
+'Only because I've let myself go--let myself be natural! Oh, _do_
+encourage me--give me strength, Landi! Don't let me be a coward! Think
+if Aylmer goes out again and is killed, how miserable I should feel to
+have refused him and disappointed him--for the second time!'
+
+'Wait a moment, Edith. Suppose, as you say, he goes out again and is
+killed, and you _haven't_ disappointed him, what would your position
+be then?'
+
+She couldn't answer.
+
+'How is it your conscientiousness with regard to Bruce doesn't come in
+the way now? Why would it ruin him less now than formerly?'
+
+'Bruce doesn't seem to matter so much.'
+
+'Because he isn't fighting?' asked Sir Tito.
+
+'Oh no, Landi! I never thought of that. But you know he always imagines
+himself ill, and he's quite all right really. He'll enjoy his grievance.
+I _know_ he won't be unhappy. And he's older, and he's not tied to that
+silly, mad girl he ran away with. And besides, I'm older. This is
+probably _my_ last chance!'
+
+She looked at Landi imploringly, as if begging his permission.
+
+He answered calmly: 'Écoute, chérie. When do you see him again?'
+
+'I'm to take him for a drive tomorrow.'
+
+'My dear Edith, promise me one thing; don't undertake anything yet.'
+
+'But why not?'
+
+'You mustn't. This may be merely an impulse; you may change again. It
+may be a passing mood.'
+
+'I don't think it is,' said Edith. 'Anyhow, it's my wish at present.
+It's the result of thinking, remember--not of his persuasion.'
+
+'Go for a drive, but give him no hope yet.' He took both her hands.
+'Make no promise, except to me. Don't I know you well? I doubt if you
+could do it.'
+
+'Yes, I could! I could go through _anything_ if I were determined, and
+if I had the children safe.'
+
+'Never mind that for the present. Live for the day. Will you promise me
+that?'
+
+She hesitated for a moment.
+
+Then he said:
+
+'Really, dear, it's too serious to be impulsive about. Take time.'
+
+'Very well, Landi. I promise you that.'
+
+'Then we'll meet again afterwards and talk it over. I'll come and see
+you.'
+
+'Very well. And mustn't I tell him anything? Not make him a little bit
+happy?'
+
+'Tell him nothing. Be nice to him. Enjoy your drive. Put off all
+decision at present.'
+
+He looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling, her colour, her expression
+were deepened. She looked all animation, with more life than he had ever
+seen in her.... Somehow the sight made his heart ache a little, a
+very little.
+
+Poor girl! Of course she had been starving for love, and hidden the
+longing under domestic interests, artistic, social, but human. But she
+deserved real love, a real lover. She was so loyal, so true herself.
+
+'Tiens! You look like a lamp that has been lighted,' said Sir Tito,
+chuckling a little to himself. 'Eh, bien!--and the pretty nurse? Does
+she still dance the Cachuca? I know I'm old-fashioned, but it's
+impossible for me not to associate everything Spanish with the
+ridiculous. I think of guitars, mantillas, sombreros, or--what else is
+it? Ah, I know--onions.'
+
+'She isn't even Spanish, really!'
+
+'Then why did you deceive me?' said Landi, a shade absently, with a
+glance at his watch and another in the mirror.
+
+'She can't remain with Aylmer. She knows it herself. I'm trying to
+arrange for her to become a companion for Lady Conroy.'
+
+He laughed.
+
+'You are more particular about her being chaperoned than you were last
+week.'
+
+'Landi, Aylmer will never care for her. She's a dear, but he won't.'
+
+'Tu ne l'a pas revu? Lui--Aylmer?'
+
+'No, but he's written to me.'
+
+'Oh, for heaven's sake, my child, burn the letters! I daresay it won't
+be difficult; they are probably all flames already.'
+
+'I did have one lovely letter,' said Edith.
+
+She took it out of her dress. He glanced at it.
+
+'Mon Dieu! To think that a pupil of mine drives about in a taxi-cab with
+compromising letters in her pocket! Non, tu est folle, véritablement,
+Edith.'
+
+To please him she threw it into the fire, after tearing a small blank
+piece of the paper off, and putting this unwritten-on scrap back in the
+bodice of her dress. As she hurried away, she again promised him not to
+undertake anything, nor to allow Aylmer to overpower her prudent
+intention during their drive.
+
+'What time do you start? I think I shall come too,' said Sir Tito,
+pretending to look at his engagement-book.
+
+He burst out laughing at her expression.
+
+'Ah, I'm not wanted! Tiens! If you're not very careful _one_ person will
+go with you, I can tell you. And that will be Madame Frabelle.'
+
+'No, she won't. Indeed not! It's the last day of Archie's holidays.'
+
+'He's coming with you?'
+
+'On the front seat, with the chauffeur,' said Edith.
+
+There was a ring at the bell. He lifted the curtain and caressingly but
+firmly pushed her through into the other room.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Tito had another appointment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+While this drama was taking place in the little house in Sloane Street,
+Madame Frabelle, who lived for romance, and was always imagining it
+where it didn't exist, was, of course, sublimely unconscious of its
+presence. She had grown tired of her fancy about Edith and Mr Mitchell,
+or she made herself believe that her influence had stopped it. But she
+was beginning to think, much as she enjoyed her visit and delighted in
+her surroundings, that it was almost time for her at least to _suggest_
+going away.
+
+She had made Edith's friends her own. She was devoted to Edith, fonder
+of the children than anyone except their grandmother, and strangely,
+considering she was a visitor who gave trouble, she was adored by the
+servants and by everyone in the house, with the single exception
+of Archie.
+
+She was carrying on a kind of half-religious flirtation with the Rev.
+Byrne Fraser, who was gradually succeeding in making her very high
+church. Sometimes she rose early and left the house mysteriously. She
+went to Mass. There was a dreamy expression in her eyes when she came
+back. A slight perfume of incense, instead of the lavender water that
+she formerly affected, was now observable about her.
+
+She went to see the 'London Group' and the 'New English' with young
+Coniston, who explained to her all he had learnt from Aylmer, a little
+wrong; while she assured him that she knew nothing about pictures, but
+she knew what she liked.
+
+She bought book-bindings from Miss Coniston, and showed her how to cook
+macaroni and how to make cheap but unpalatable soup for her brother. And
+she went to all the war concerts and bazaars got up by Valdez, to
+meetings for the Serbians arranged by Mrs Mitchell and to Lady Conroy's
+Knitting Society for the Refugees. She was a very busy woman. But it was
+not these employments that were filling her mind as she sat in her own
+room, looking seriously at herself in the glass. Something made her a
+little preoccupied.
+
+She was beginning to fear that Bruce was getting too fond of her.
+
+The moment the idea occurred to her, it occurred to Bruce also. She had
+a hypnotic effect on him; as soon as she thought of anything he thought
+of it too. Something in her slight change of manner, her cautious way of
+answering, and of rustling self-consciously out of the room when they
+were left alone together, had this effect. Bruce was enchanted. Madame
+Frabelle thought he was getting too fond of her! Then, he must be!
+Perhaps he was. He certainly didn't like the idea at all of her going
+away and changed the subject directly she mentioned it. He had always
+thought her a very wonderful person. He was immensely impressed by her
+universal knowledge and agreeable manners and general charm. Still,
+Madame Frabelle was fifteen years older than Bruce, and Bruce himself
+was no chicken. Although he was under forty, his ideal of himself was
+that he liked only very young girls. This was not true. But as he
+thought it was, it became very much the same thing. As a matter of fact,
+only rather foolish girls were flattered at attentions from Bruce.
+Married women preferred spirited bachelors, and attractive girls
+preferred attractive boys. In fact, Bruce was not wanted socially, and
+he felt a little bit out of it among the men through not being among the
+fighters. The fact that he told everyone that he was not in khaki
+because he was in consumption didn't seem to make him more interesting
+to the general public. His neurotic heart bored his friends at the club.
+In fact there was not a woman, even his mother, except Madame Frabelle,
+who cared to listen to his symptoms. That she did so, and with sympathy,
+was one of her attractions.
+
+But as long as she had listened to them in a sisterly, friendly way, he
+regarded her only as a friend--a friend of whom he was very proud, and
+whom he respected immensely. As has been said, she impressed him so much
+that he did not know she bored him. When she began rustling out of the
+room when they were left alone, and looking away, avoiding his eye when
+he stared at her absently, things were different, and he began to feel
+rather flattered. Of course it would be an infernal shame, and not the
+act of a gentleman, to take advantage of one's position as a host by
+making love to a fascinating guest. But there was so much sympathy
+between them! It is only fair to say that the idea would never have
+occurred to Bruce unless it had first occurred to Madame Frabelle. If a
+distinguished-looking woman in violet velvet leaves the room five
+minutes after she's left alone with one--even though she has grey
+hair--it naturally shows that she thinks one is dangerous. The result of
+it all was that when Bruce heard Edith was taking Aylmer for a drive, he
+apologised very much indeed for not going with her. He said, frankly,
+much as he liked Aylmer, wounded heroes were rather a bore. He hoped
+Aylmer would forgive him. And Madame Frabelle had promised to take him
+to the Oratory. She disapproved of his fancy of becoming a Catholic; she
+was not one herself, though she was extremely high, and growing daily
+higher, but the music at the Oratory on that particular day was very
+wonderful, and they agreed to go there. And afterwards--well, afterwards
+they might stroll home, or--go and have tea in Bond Street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was the last day of Archie's holidays, and though it was rather cold
+his mother insisted on taking him with her.
+
+Aylmer tried to hide the shade that came over his face when he saw the
+boy, but remembering that he had undertaken to be a father to him, he
+cheered up as soon as Archie was settled.
+
+It was a lovely autumn day, one of those warm Indian-summer days that
+resemble early spring. There is the same suggestion of warmer sunshine
+yet to come; the air has a scent as of growing things, the kind of
+muffled hopes and suppressed excitement of April is in the deceptive
+air. This sort of day is dangerous to charming people not in their very
+first youth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In high spirits and beyond the speed limit they started for Richmond.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A week later Aylmer and his son were sitting looking at each other in
+the old brown library. Teddy had come over for ten days' leave from
+somewhere in France. Everyone, except his father, was astonished how
+little he had changed. He seemed exactly the same, although he had gone
+through strange experiences. But Aylmer saw a different look in his
+eyes. He looked well and brisk--perhaps a little more developed and more
+manly; his shoulders, always rather thick and broad, seemed even
+broader, although he was thinner. But it was the expression of the eyes
+that had altered. Those eyes had _seen things_. In colour pale blue,
+they had a slightly strained look. They seemed paler. His sunburn
+increased his resemblance to his father, always very striking. Both had
+large foreheads, clearly cut features and square chins. Aylmer was,
+strictly speaking, handsomer. His features more refined, more chiselled.
+But Teddy had the additional charm of extreme youth--youth with the
+self-possession and ease that seemed, as it were, a copy--as his voice
+was an echo--of his father. The difference was in culture and
+experience. Teddy had gone out when he was just on the point of going to
+Balliol, yet seemed to have something of the Oxford manner,
+characteristic of his father--a manner suave, amiable, a little
+ironical. He had the unmistakable public-school look and his training
+had immensely improved his appearance.
+
+Aylmer was disappointed that the very first thing his son insisted on
+doing was to put on evening clothes and go to the Empire. That was where
+the difference in age told. Aylmer would not have gone to the Empire
+fresh from the fighting line. He made no objection, and concealed the
+tiniest ache that he felt when Teddy went out at once with Major Willis,
+an elder friend of his. Quite as old, Aylmer thought to himself, as _he_
+was. But not being a relative, he seemed of the same generation.
+
+The next evening Teddy spent at home, and sat with his father, who
+declared himself to be completely recovered, but was still not allowed
+to put his foot to the ground, Miss Clay was asked to sing to them. Her
+voice, as has been said, was a very beautiful one, a clear, fine
+soprano, with a timbre rare in quality, and naturally thrilling. She had
+not been taught well enough to be a public success perhaps, but was much
+more accomplished than the average amateur.
+
+Teddy delighted in it. She sang all the popular songs--she had a way
+that was almost humorous of putting refinement into the stupidest and
+vulgarest melody. And then she sang some of those technically poor but
+attaching melodies that, sung in a certain way, without sickening
+sentimentality or affectation, seem to search one's soul and bring out
+all that there is in one of romance.
+
+She looked very beautiful, that Aylmer admitted to himself, and she sang
+simply and charmingly; that he owned also. Why did it irritate him so
+intensely to see Teddy moved and thrilled, to see his eyes brighten, his
+colour rise and to see him obviously admiring the girl? When she made an
+excuse to leave them Teddy was evidently quite disappointed.
+
+The next day Aylmer limped down to the library. To his great surprise he
+heard voices in the room Dulcie used for her sitting-room. He heard
+Teddy begging her to sing to him again. He heard her refuse and then
+Teddy's voice asking her to go out to tea with him.
+
+Aylmer limped as loudly as he could, and they evidently heard him, but
+didn't mind in the least. He didn't want Miss Clay to stop at home. He
+was expecting Edith.
+
+'Hang it, let them go!' he said to himself, and he wondered at himself.
+Why should he care? Why _shouldn't_ she flirt with the boy if she liked,
+or rather--for he was too just not to own that it was no desire of
+hers--why shouldn't the boy make up to her? Whatever the reason was, it
+annoyed him.
+
+Annoyance was soon forgotten when Mrs Ottley was announced.
+
+Since their drive to Richmond there had been a period of extraordinary
+happiness and delight for Edith. Not another word had been said with
+reference to Aylmer's proposal. He left it in abeyance, for he saw to
+his great joy and delight that she was becoming her old self, more than
+her old self.
+
+Edith was completely changed. The first thing she thought of now in the
+morning was how soon she should see him again. She managed to conceal it
+well, but she was nervous, absent, with her eyes always on the clock,
+counting the minutes. When other people were present she was cool and
+friendly to Aylmer, but when they were alone he had become intimate,
+delightful, familiar, like the time, three years ago, when they were
+together at the seaside. But her mother-in-law had then been in the
+house. And the children. Everything was so conventional. Now she was
+able to see him alone. Really alone.... His eyes welcomed her as she
+came in. Having shut the door quietly, she reached his chair in a
+little rush.
+
+'Don't take off your hat. I like that hat. That was the hat you wore the
+day I told you--'
+
+'I'm glad it suits me,' she said, interrupting. 'Does it really? Isn't
+it too small?'
+
+'You know it does.'
+
+He was holding her hand. He slowly took off the glove, saying: 'What a
+funny woman you are, Edith. Why do you wear grey gloves? Nobody else
+wears grey gloves.'
+
+'I prefer white ones, but they won't stay white two minutes'
+
+'I like these.'
+
+'Tell me about Teddy. Don't, Aylmer!'
+
+Aylmer was kissing her fingers one by one. She drew them away.
+
+'Teddy! Oh, there's not much to tell.' Then he gave a little laugh. 'I
+believe he's fallen in love with Miss Clay.'
+
+'Has he really? Well, no wonder; think how pretty she is.'
+
+'I know. Is she? I don't think she's a bit pretty.'
+
+'She's to see Lady Conroy tomorrow, you know,' Edith said, divining an
+anxiety or annoyance in Aylmer on the subject.
+
+'Yes. Will it be all right?'
+
+'Oh yes.'
+
+'Well, Teddy's going back on Monday anyway, and I certainly don't need a
+nurse any more. Headley will do all I want.'
+
+Headley was the old butler.
+
+'What scent do you use, Edith?'
+
+'I hardly ever use any. I don't care for scent.'
+
+'But lately you have,' he insisted. 'What is it? I think I like it.'
+
+'It's got a silly name. It's called Omar Khayyám.'
+
+'I thought it was Oriental. I think you're Oriental, Edith. Though
+you're so fair and English-looking. How do you account for it?'
+
+'I can't think,' said Edith.
+
+'Perhaps you're a fair Circassian,' said he. 'Do you think yourself
+you're Oriental?'
+
+'I believe I am, in some ways. I like lying down on cushions. I like
+cigarettes, and scent, and flowers. I hate wine, and exercise, and
+cricket, and bridge.'
+
+'That isn't all that's needed. You wouldn't care for life in a harem,
+would you?' He laughed. 'You with your independent mind and your
+cleverness.'
+
+'Perhaps not exactly, but I can imagine worse things.'
+
+'I shall take you to Egypt,' he said. 'You've never been there, have
+you?'
+
+'Never.' Her eyes sparkled.
+
+'Yes, I shall take you to see the Sphinx. For the first time.'
+
+'Oh, you can't. You're looking very well, Aylmer, wonderfully better.'
+
+'I wonder why? You don't think I'm happy, do you?'
+
+'I am,' said Edith.
+
+'Because you're a woman. You live for the moment. I'm anxious about the
+future.'
+
+'Oh, oh! You're quite wrong. It's not women who live for the moment,'
+said Edith.
+
+'No, I don't know that the average woman does. But then you're not an
+average woman.'
+
+'What am I?'
+
+'You're Edith,' he answered, rather fatuously. But she liked it. She
+moved away.
+
+'Now that's awfully mean of you, taking advantage of my wounded limb.'
+
+She rang for tea.
+
+'And that's even meaner. It's treacherous,' he said, laughing.
+
+She sat down on a chair at a little distance.
+
+'Angel!' he said, in a low, distinct voice.
+
+'It is not for me to dictate,' said Edith, in a tone of command, 'but I
+should think it more sensible of you not to say these things to
+me--just now.'
+
+The servant came in with tea.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+Just before Archie went back to school he made a remark that impressed
+Edith strangely. Quite dressed and ready to start, as he was putting on
+his gloves, he fell into one of his reveries. After being silent for
+some time he said:
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, darling?'
+
+'Why doesn't father fight?'
+
+'I told you before, darling. Your father is not very strong.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, dear?'
+
+'Is Aylmer older than father?'
+
+'Yes. Aylmer's four years older. Why?'
+
+'I don't know. I wish I had a father who could fight, like Aylmer. And
+I'd like to fight too, like Teddy.'
+
+'Aylmer hasn't any wife and children to leave. Teddy's eighteen; you're
+only ten.'
+
+'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, dear?'
+
+'I wish I was old enough to fight. And I wish father was stronger.... Do
+you think I shall ever fight in this war?'
+
+'Good heavens, dear! I hope it isn't going to last seven years more.'
+
+'I wish it would,' said Archie ferociously. 'Mother!'
+
+'Yes, darling?'
+
+'But what's the matter with father? He seems quite well.'
+
+'Oh, he isn't very well. He suffers from nerves.'
+
+'Nerves! What's nerves?'
+
+'I think, darling, it's time for us to start. Where's your coat?'
+
+She drove him to the station. Most of the way he was very silent As she
+put him in the train he said.
+
+'Mother, give my love to Aylmer.'
+
+'All right, dear.'
+
+He then said:
+
+'Mother, I wish Aylmer was my father.'
+
+'Oh, Archie! You mustn't say that.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But she never forgot the boy's remark. It had a stronger influence on
+her action later than anything else. She knew Archie had always had a
+great hero-worship for Aylmer. But that he should actually prefer him
+to Bruce!
+
+She didn't tell Aylmer that for a long time afterwards.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before returning to the front Teddy had become so violently devoted to
+Miss Clay that she was quite glad to see him go. She received his
+attentions with calm and cool friendliness, but gave him not the
+smallest encouragement. She was three years older, but looked younger
+than her age, while Teddy looked much older, more like twenty-two. So
+that when on the one or two occasions during his ten days' leave they
+went out together, they didn't seem at all an ill-assorted couple. And
+whenever Aylmer saw the two together, it created the greatest irritation
+in him. He hardly knew which vexed him more--Dulcie for being attractive
+to the boy, or the boy for being charmed by Dulcie. It was absurd--out
+of place. It displeased him.
+
+A day or two after Teddy's departure Dulcie went to see Lady Conroy, who
+immediately declared that Dulcie was extraordinarily like a charming
+girl she had met at Boulogne. Dulcie convinced her that she was the
+same girl.
+
+'Oh, how perfectly charming!' said Lady Conroy. 'What a coincidence!
+_Too_ wonderful! Well, my dear, I can see at a glance that you're the
+very person I want. Your duties will be very, _very_ light. Oh, how
+light they will be! There's really hardly anything to do! I merely want
+you to be a sort of walking memorandum for me,' Lady Conroy went on,
+smiling. 'Just to recollect what day it is, and what's the date, and
+what time my appointments are, and do my telephoning for me, and write
+my letters, and take the dog out for a walk, and _sometimes_ just hear
+my little girls practise, and keep my papers in order. Oh, one can
+hardly say exactly--you know the sort of thing. Oh yes! and do the
+flowers,' said Lady Conroy, glancing round the room. 'I always forget my
+flowers, and I won't let Marie do them, and so there they are--dead in
+the vases! And I do like a few live flowers about, I must say,' she
+added pathetically.
+
+Dulcie said she thought she could undertake it.
+
+'Well, then, won't you stay now, and have your things sent straight on?
+Oh, do! I do wish you would. I've got two stalls for the St James's
+tonight. My husband can't come, and I can't think of anybody else to
+ask. I should love to take you.'
+
+Dulcie would have enjoyed to go. The theatre was a passion with her, as
+with most naïve people. She made some slight objection which Lady Conroy
+at once waved away. However, Dulcie pointed out that she must go home
+first, and as all terms and arrangements absolutely suited both parties,
+it was decided that Dulcie should go to the play with her tonight and
+come the next day to take up her duties.
+
+She asked Lady Conroy if she might have her meals alone when there were
+guests, as she was very shy. A charming little sitting-room, opening out
+of the drawing-rooms, was put at her disposal.
+
+'Oh, certainly, dear; always, of course, except when I'm alone. But
+you'll come when I ask you, now and then, won't you? I thought you'd be
+very useful sometimes at boring lunches, or when there were too many
+men--that sort of thing. And I hear you sing. Oh, that will be
+delightful! You'll sing when we have a few tedious people with us? I
+adore music. We'll go to some of those all-British concerts, won't we?
+We must be patriotic. Do you know it's really been my dream to have a
+sweet, useful, sympathetic girl in the house. And with a memory too!
+Charming!'
+
+Dulcie went away fascinated, if slightly bewildered. It was a pang to
+her to say good-bye to Aylmer, the more so as he showed, in a way that
+was perfectly obvious to the girl, that he was pleased to see her go,
+though he was as cordial as possible.
+
+She had been an embarrassment to him of late. It was beginning to be what
+is known as a false position, since Headley the butler could now look
+after Aylmer. Except for a limp, he was practically well.
+
+Anyone who has ever nursed a person to whom they are devoted, helped him
+through weakness and danger to health again, will understand the curious
+pain she felt to see him independent of her, anxious to show his
+strength. Still, he had been perfect. She would always remember him with
+worship. She meant never to love anyone else all her life.
+
+When she said good-bye she said to him:
+
+'I do hope you'll be very happy.'
+
+He laughed, coloured a little, and said as he squeezed her hand warmly:
+
+'You've been a brick to me, Miss Clay. I shall certainly tell you if I
+ever am happy.'
+
+She wondered what that meant, but she preferred to try to forget it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Dulcie arrived, as she had been told, at a quarter to eight,
+dressed in a black evening dress (she didn't care to wear uniform at the
+theatre), she found Lady Conroy, who was lying on the sofa in a
+tea-gown, utterly astonished to see her.
+
+'My dear! you've come to dine with me after all?'
+
+'No, indeed. I've dined. You said I was to come in time to go to the
+play.'
+
+'The play? Oh! I forgot. I'm so sorry. I've sent the tickets away. I
+forgot I'd anyone to go with me. I'm afraid it can't be helped now. Are
+you very disappointed? Poor child. Well, dear, you'll dine with me,
+anyhow, as you've come, and I can tell you all about what we shall have
+to do, and everything. We'll go to the theatre some other evening.'
+
+Dulcie was obliged to decline eating two dinners. She had not found it
+possible to get through one--her last meal at Aylmer's house. However,
+as she had no idea what else to do, she remained with Lady Conroy. And
+she spent a very pleasant evening.
+
+Lady Conroy told her all about herself, her husband, her children and
+her friends. She told her the history of her life, occasionally
+branching off on to other subjects, and referring to the angel she had
+met on a boat who was in the Black Watch, and who, Dulcie gathered, was
+a wounded officer. Lady Conroy described all the dresses she had at
+present, many that she had had in former years, and others that she
+would like to have had now. She gravely told the girl the most
+inaccurate gossip about such of her friends as Dulcie might possibly
+meet later. She was confidential, amusing, brilliant and inconsequent.
+She appeared enchanted with Dulcie, whom she treated like an intimate
+friend at sight. And Dulcie was charmed with her, though somewhat
+confused at her curious memory. Indeed, they parted at about eleven the
+best possible friends; Lady Conroy insisting on sending her home in
+her car.
+
+Dulcie, who had a sensitive and sensible horror of snobbishness, felt
+sorry to know that her father would casually mention that his daughter
+was staying with the Conroys in Carlton House Terrace, and that her
+stepmother would scold her unless she recollected every dress she
+happened to see there. Still, on the whole she felt cheered.
+
+She had every reason to hope that she would be as happy as a companion,
+in love without hope of a return, could be under any circumstances.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+Madame Frabelle and Edith were sitting side by side in Edith's boudoir.
+Madame Frabelle was knitting. Edith was looking at a book. It was a thin
+little volume of essays, bound by Miss Coniston.
+
+'What is the meaning of this design?' Edith said. 'It seems to me very
+unsuited to Chesterton's work! Olive-green, with twirly things on it!'
+
+'I thought it rather artistic,' answered Madame Frabelle.
+
+'It looks like macaroni, or spaghetti. Perhaps the idea was suggested by
+your showing her how to cook it,' said Edith, laughing.
+
+Madame Frabelle looked gravely serene.
+
+'No--I don't think that had anything to do with it.'
+
+'How literal you are, Eglantine!'
+
+'Am I? I think you do me injustice, Edith dear,' returned the amiable
+guest with a tinge of stateliness as she rolled up her wool.
+
+Edith smiled, put down her book, looked at the clock and rearranged the
+large orange-coloured cushion behind her back. Then she took the book up
+again, looked through it and again put it down.
+
+'You're not at all--forgive me for saying so--not the least bit in the
+world restless today, Edith darling, are you?' said Madame Frabelle in a
+calm, clear, high voice that Edith found quite trying.
+
+'Oh, I hope not--I think not.'
+
+'Ah, that's well,' and Madame Frabelle, with one slight glance at her
+hostess, went on knitting.
+
+'I believe I miss Archie a good deal,' said Edith.
+
+'Ah, yes, you must indeed. I miss the dear boy immensely myself,'
+sympathetically said Madame Frabelle. But Edith thought Madame Frabelle
+bore his loss with a good deal of equanimity, and she owned to herself
+that it was not surprising. The lady had been very good to Archie, but
+he had teased her a good deal. Like the Boy Scouts, but the other way
+round, he had almost made a point of worrying her in some way or other
+every day. Edith could never persuade him to change his view of her.
+
+He said she was a fool.
+
+Somehow, today Edith felt rather pleased with him for thinking so. All
+women are subject to moods, particularly, perhaps, those who have a
+visitor staying with them for a considerable time. There are moments of
+injustice, of unfairness to the most charming feminine guest, from the
+most gentle hostess. And also there are, undoubtedly, times when the
+nicest hostess gets a little on one's nerves.
+
+So--critical, highly strung--Madame Frabelle was feeling today. So was
+Edith. Madame Frabelle was privately thinking that Edith was restless,
+that she had lost her repose, that her lips were redder than they used
+to be. Had she taken to using lip salve too? She was inclined to smile,
+with a twinkle in her eye, at Madame Frabelle's remarks, a shade too
+often. And what was Edith thinking of at this moment? She was thinking
+of Archie's remarks about Madame Frabelle. That boy had genius!
+
+But there would be a reaction, probably during, or immediately after,
+tea-time, for these two women were sincerely fond of one another. The
+irritating fact that Edith was eighteen years younger than her guest
+made Eglantine feel sometimes a desire to guide, even to direct her, and
+if she had the disadvantage in age she wanted at least the privilege of
+gratifying her longing to give advice.
+
+The desire became too strong to be resisted. The advantage of having
+something to do with her hands while she spoke was too great a one not
+to be taken advantage of. So Madame Frabelle said:
+
+'Edith dear.'
+
+'Yes?'
+
+'I've been wanting to say something to you.'
+
+Edith leant forward, putting her elbows on her knees and her face on her
+hands, and said:
+
+'Oh, _do_ tell me, Eglantine. What is it?'
+
+'It is simply this,' said the other lady, calmly continuing her
+knitting.... 'Very often when one's living with a person, one doesn't
+notice little things a comparative stranger would observe. Is that
+not so?'
+
+'What have you observed? What's it about?'
+
+'It is about your husband,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'What! Bruce?' asked Edith.
+
+'Naturally,' replied Madame Frabelle dryly.
+
+'What have you observed about Bruce?'
+
+'I have observed,' replied Madame Frabelle, putting her hand in the sock
+that she was knitting, and looking at it critically, her head on one
+side, 'I have observed that Bruce is not at all well.'
+
+'Oh, I'm sorry you think that. It's true he has seemed rather what he
+calls off colour lately.'
+
+'He suffers,' said Madame Frabelle, as if announcing a great discovery,'
+he suffers from Nerves.'
+
+'I know he does, my dear. Who should know it better than I do? But--do
+you think he is worse lately?'
+
+'I do. He is terribly depressed. He says things to me sometimes
+that--well, that really quite alarm me.'
+
+'I'm sorry. But you mustn't take Bruce too seriously, you know that.'
+
+'Indeed I don't take him too seriously! And I've done my best either to
+change the subject or to make him see the silver lining to every cloud,'
+Madame Frabelle answered solemnly, with a shake of her head.
+
+'I think what Bruce complains of is the want of a silver lining to his
+purse,' Edith said.
+
+'You are jesting, Edith dear.'
+
+'No, I'm not. He worries about money.'
+
+'But only incidentally,' said Madame Frabelle. 'Bruce is really worried
+about the war.'
+
+'Naturally. But surely--I suppose we all are.'
+
+'But Mr. Ottley takes it particularly to heart,' said Madame Frabelle,
+with a kind of touching dignity.
+
+Edith looked at her in a little surprise. Why did she suddenly call
+Bruce 'your husband' or 'Mr. Ottley'?
+
+'Why this distant manner, Eglantine?' said Edith, half laughing. 'I
+thought you always called him Bruce.'
+
+'I beg your pardon; yes, I forgot. Well, don't you see, Edith dear, that
+what we might call his depression, his melancholy point of view, is--is
+growing worse and worse?'
+
+Edith got up, walked to the other end of the room, rearranged some
+violets in a copper vase and came back to the sofa again. Madame
+Frabelle followed her with her eyes. Then Edith said, picking up
+the knitting:
+
+'Take care, dear, you're losing your wool. Yes; perhaps he is worse. He
+might be better if he occupied his mind more.'
+
+'He works at the Foreign Office from ten till four every day,' said
+Madame Frabelle in a tone of defence; 'he looks in at his club, where
+they talk over the news of the war, and then he comes home and we
+discuss it again.... Really, Edith, I scarcely see how much more he
+could do!'
+
+'Oh, my dear, but don't you see all the time he doesn't do
+anything?--anything about the war, I mean. Now both you and I do our
+little best to help, in one way or another. You especially, I'm sure, do
+a tremendous lot; but what does Bruce do? Nothing, except talk.'
+
+'That's just it, Edith. I doubt if your husband is in a fit state of
+health to strain his mind by any more work than he does already. He's
+not strong, dear; remember that.'
+
+'Of course, I know; if he were all right he wouldn't be here,' said
+Edith.' I suppose he really does suffer a great deal.'
+
+'What was it again that prevented him joining?' asked Madame Frabelle,
+with sympathetic tenderness.
+
+'Neurotic heart,' answered Edith. Though she tried her very utmost she
+could not help the tone of her voice sounding a little dry and ironical.
+Of course, she did not in the least believe in Bruce's neurotic heart,
+but she did not want Madame Frabelle to know that.
+
+'Ah! ah! that must cause him a great deal of pain, but I think so far
+his worst symptoms are his nervous fears. Look at last night,' continued
+Madame Frabelle, and now she put down her knitting and folded it into
+her work-basket.' Last night, because there was no moon, and it wasn't
+raining, and fairly clear, Mr Ott--Bruce had absolutely made up his mind
+there would be a Zeppelin raid. It was his own idea.'
+
+'Not quite, dear. Young Coniston, who is a special constable, rang up
+and told him that there was a chance of the Zeppelins last night.'
+
+'Well, perhaps so. At any rate he believed it. Well, instead of being
+satisfied when I told him that I had got out my mask, that I saw to the
+bath being left half-filled with water, helped your husband to put two
+large bags of sand outside his dressing-room--in spite of all that, do
+you know what happened in the middle of the night?'
+
+'I'm afraid I don't,' said Edith. 'Since Archie went back to school I
+have had Dilly in my room, and we both slept soundly all night.'
+
+'Did you? I fancied I saw a light in your room.'
+
+This was quite true. Edith was writing a very long letter.
+
+'Ah, perhaps.'
+
+'Well, at three o'clock in the morning, fancy my surprise to hear a
+knock at my door!'
+
+'I wonder I didn't hear a knock at mine,' said Edith.
+
+'Your husband was afraid to disturb the little girl. Most considerate, I
+thought. Well, he knocked at my door and said that he was unable to
+sleep, that he felt terribly miserable and melancholy, in fact was
+wretched, and that he felt on the point of cutting his throat.... Don't
+be frightened, dear. I don't mean that he really _meant_ it,' said
+Madame Frabelle, putting her hand on Edith's.
+
+'Poor fellow! But what a shame to disturb you.'
+
+'I didn't mind in the least. I was only too pleased. Well, what do you
+think I did? I got up and dressed, went down to the library and lighted
+the fire, and sat up for half-an-hour with your husband trying to
+cheer him up!'
+
+'Did you really?' Edith smiled. 'It was very sweet of you, Eglantine.'
+
+'Not at all; I was only too glad. I made a cup of tea, Bruce had a
+whisky and soda, we had a nice talk, and I sent him back quite cheerful.
+Still, it just shows, doesn't it, how terribly he takes it all?'
+
+'Rather hard on you, Eglantine; quite improper too,' laughed Edith as
+she rang the bell.
+
+Madame Frabelle ignored this remark.
+
+'If I could only feel at all that I've done a little good during my stay
+here, I shall be quite satisfied.'
+
+'Oh! but you mustn't dream yet of--' began Edith.
+
+There was a ring at the bell.
+
+'Why, here is Bruce, just in time for tea.'
+
+Edith went to meet him in the hall. Although he came in with his key, he
+invariably rang the bell, so that the maid could take his coat
+and stick.
+
+'Hallo, Edith,' he said, in a rather sober tone. 'How are you? And where
+is Madame Frabelle?'
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+Bruce came in with a rather weary air, and sat down by the fire. Madame
+Frabelle was presiding at the tea-table.
+
+'How are you feeling, Bruce?' Edith asked.
+
+'Oh, pretty rotten. I had a very bad night. How are you, Madame
+Frabelle?'
+
+'Oh, very well. Tea?'
+
+'Poor Bruce!' said Edith kindly. 'Oh, and poor Madame Frabelle,' she
+added, with a smile.
+
+Bruce gave Madame Frabelle a slightly reproachful look as he took a cup
+of tea from her.
+
+'I've been telling Edith,' said that lady in a quiet, dignified way.
+
+'What about?'
+
+'About last night,' said Madame Frabelle, passing Bruce the buttered
+toast without looking at him, as if avoiding his glance.
+
+'I'm really very much ashamed of it,' said Bruce. 'You can't think how
+kind she was to me, Edith.'
+
+'I'm sure she was,' said Edith.
+
+'Oh, you won't have a bad night like that again,' said Madame Frabelle
+cheerily.
+
+'I'm sure I hope not.' He gave a dark, despairing look, and sighed.
+'Upon my word, if it hadn't been for her I don't know what I would have
+done.' He shook his head and stroked his back hair.
+
+Suddenly Edith felt intensely bored. Madame Frabelle and Bruce were
+looking at each other with such intense sympathy, and she knew they
+would repeat in different words what they had said already. They were so
+certain to go over the same ground again and again!... Edith felt she
+was not wanted. But that didn't annoy her. She was merely thinking of an
+excuse to get away from them.
+
+'By the way, how's Aylmer, Edith?' asked Bruce.
+
+'Getting on well. I believe he's been ordered out of town.'
+
+'To the seaside? For God's sake don't let him go to the east coast!'
+
+'The east coast is quite as safe as any other part of England, _I_
+think.' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Oh, he'll take his chance,' Edith replied.
+
+'I expect he'll miss _you_, my dear,' said Bruce. 'You've been so jolly
+good to him lately.'
+
+'Naturally,' said Madame Frabelle, a little quickly, very smoothly, and
+with what Edith thought unnecessary tact. 'Naturally. Anyone so
+kind-hearted as Edith would be sure to try and cheer up the convalescence
+of a wounded friend. Have a _foie-gras_ sandwich, Edith?'
+
+Edith felt an almost irresistible desire to laugh at something in the
+hospitable, almost patronising tone of her guest.
+
+'Oh, Edith likes going to see him,' said Bruce to Madame Frabelle. 'So
+do I, if it comes to that. We're all fond of old Aylmer, you know.'
+
+'I know. I quite understand. You're great friends. Personally, I think
+Mr Ross has behaved splendidly.' Madame Frabelle said this with an air
+of self-control and scrupulous justice.
+
+'You don't care very much about him, I fancy,' said Bruce with the air
+of having made a subtle discovery.
+
+She raised one eyebrow slightly. 'I won't say that. I see very excellent
+points in him. I admit there's a certain coldness, a certain hard
+reserve about his character that--Well, frankly, it doesn't appeal to
+me. But I hope I am fair to him. He's a man I respect.... Yes, I
+respect him.'
+
+'But he doesn't amuse you--what?' said Bruce.
+
+'The fact is, he has no sense of humour,' said Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Fancy your finding that out now!' said Bruce, with a broad smile.
+'Funny! Ha ha! Very funny! Do you know, it never occurred to me! But now
+I come to think of it--yes, perhaps that's what's the matter with him.
+Mind you, I call him a jolly, cheery sort of chap. Quite an optimist--a
+distinct optimist. You never find Aylmer depressed.'
+
+'No, not depressed. It isn't that. But he hasn't got--You won't either
+of you be angry with me for what I say, will you?'
+
+'Oh no, indeed.'
+
+'You won't be cross with me, Edith? Perhaps I ought not to say it.'
+
+'Yes, do tell us,' urged Edith.
+
+'Well, what I consider is the defect in Aylmer Ross is that he has
+brains, but no temperament.'
+
+'Excellent!' cried Bruce. 'Perfectly true. Temperament! That's what he
+wants!'
+
+Edith remembered hearing that phrase used in her presence to Madame
+Frabelle--not about Aylmer, but about someone else. It was very
+characteristic of Madame Frabelle to catch up an idea or a phrase,
+misapply it, and then firmly regard it as her own.
+
+Bruce shook his head. 'Brains, but no temperament! Excellent!'
+
+'Mind you, that doesn't prevent him being an excellent soldier,' went on
+Madame Frabelle.
+
+'Oh dear, no. He's done jolly well,' said Bruce. 'I think I know what
+she means--don't you, Edith?'
+
+'I'm sure _she_ does,' said Edith, who had her doubts. 'I don't know
+that I do quite know what people mean when they say other people haven't
+got temperament. The question is--what _is_ temperament?'
+
+'Oh, my dear, it's a sort of--a something--an atmosphere--a sympathy.
+What I might call the magnetism of personality!'
+
+'That's right!' said Bruce, passing his cup for another cup of tea.
+'Aylmer's hard, hard as nails.'
+
+'Hasn't he got the name of being rather warm-hearted and impulsive,
+though?' suggested Edith.
+
+'Oh, he's good-natured enough,' said Bruce. 'Very generous. I've known
+him to do ever so many kind things and never let a soul except the
+fellow he'd helped know anything about it.'
+
+'You don't understand me,' said Madame Frabelle. 'I don't doubt that for
+a moment. He's a generous man, because he has a sense of duty and of the
+claims of others. But he has the effect on me--'
+
+'Go on, Eglantine.'
+
+'Frankly, he chills me,' said Madame Frabelle. 'When I went to see him
+with Edith, I felt more tired after a quarter of an hour's talk with him
+than I would--' She glanced at Bruce.
+
+'Than you would after hours with Landi, or Bruce, or Byrne Fraser, or
+young Coniston,' suggested Edith.
+
+'That's what I mean. He's difficult to talk to.'
+
+'I have no doubt you're right,' said Edith.
+
+'Well, she generally is,' said Bruce. 'The only thing is she's so
+infernally deep sometimes, she sees things in people that nobody else
+would suspect. Oh, you do, you know!'
+
+'Oh, do I?' said Madame Frabelle modestly.
+
+'Yes, I think you do,' said Edith, who by this time felt inclined to
+throw the tea-tray at her guest. The last fortnight Edith's nerves had
+certainly not been quite calm. Formerly she would have been amused at
+the stupidity of the conversation. Now she felt irritated, bored and
+worried, except when she was with Aylmer.
+
+There was a moment's silence. Bruce leant back and half shut his eyes.
+Madame Frabelle softly put a cushion behind his shoulder, putting a
+finger on her lip as she looked at Edith.
+
+Edith suddenly got up.
+
+'You won't think it horrid of me, Bruce? I've got to go out for a few
+minutes.'
+
+'Oh no, no, no!' said Bruce. 'Certainly not. Do go, my dear girl. You'll
+be back to dinner?'
+
+'Dinner? Of course. It isn't a quarter to six.'
+
+Her eyes were bright. She looked full of elasticity and spirit again.
+
+'I quite forgot,' she said, 'something that I promised to do for Mrs
+Mitchell. And she'll be disappointed if I don't.'
+
+'I know what it is,' said Madame Frabelle archly. 'It's about that
+Society for the Belgians,'--she lowered her voice--'I mean the
+children's _lingerie_!'
+
+'That's it,' said Edith gratefully. 'Well, I'll fly--and be back as soon
+as I can.'
+
+Bruce got up and opened the door for her.
+
+'For heaven's sake don't treat me with ceremony, my dear Edith,' said
+Madame Frabelle.
+
+She made a little sign, as much as to say that she would look after
+Bruce. But she was not very successful in expressing anything by a look
+or a gesture. Edith had no idea what she meant. However, she nodded in
+return, as if she fully comprehended, and then ran up to her room, put
+on her hat, and, too impatient to wait while the servant called a cab,
+walked as quickly as possible until she met one near the top of Sloane
+Street. It was already very dark.
+
+'Twenty-seven Jermyn Street,' said Edith as she jumped in.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later she was sitting next to Aylmer.
+
+'Only for a second; I felt I must see you.'
+
+'Fool! Angel!' said Aylmer, beaming, and kissing her hand.
+
+'Bruce is too irritating for words today. And Madame Frabelle makes me
+sick. I can't stand her. At least today.'
+
+'Oh, Edith, don't tell me you're jealous of the woman! I won't stand it!
+I shan't play.'
+
+'Good heavens, no! Not in the least. But her society's so tedious at
+times. She has such a pompous way of discovering the obvious.'
+
+'I do believe you object to her being in love with Bruce,' said Aylmer
+reproachfully. 'That's a thing I will _not_ stand.'
+
+'Indeed I don't. Besides, she's not. Who could be?... And don't be
+jealous of Bruce, Aylmer.... I know she's very motherly to him, and
+kind. But she's the same to everyone.'
+
+They talked on for a few minutes. Then Edith said:
+
+'Good-bye. I must go.'
+
+'Good-bye,' said Aylmer.
+
+'Oh! Are you going to let me go already?' she asked reproachfully.
+
+She leant over him. Some impulse seemed to draw her near to him.
+
+'You're using that Omar Khayyám scent again,' he said. 'I wish you
+wouldn't.'
+
+'Why? you said you liked it.'
+
+'I do like it. I like it too much.'
+
+She came nearer. Aylmer gently pushed her away.
+
+'How unkind you are!' she said, colouring a little with hurt feeling.
+
+'I can't do that sort of thing,' said Aylmer in a low voice. 'When once
+you've given me your promise--but not before.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer!'
+
+'I won't rush you. You'll see I'm right in time, dear girl.'
+
+'You don't love me!' suddenly exclaimed Edith.
+
+'But that's where you're wrong. I do love you. And I wish you'd go.'
+
+She looked into his eyes, and then said, looking away:
+
+'Are you really going out of town?'
+
+'I'm ordered to. But I doubt if I can stand it.'
+
+'Well, good-bye, Aylmer dear.'
+
+'Fiend! Are you going already? Cruel girl!'
+
+'Why you've just sent me away!'
+
+'I can stand talking to you, Edith. Talking, for hours. But I can't
+stand your being within a yard of me.'
+
+'Thank you so much,' she said, laughing, and arranging her hat in front
+of the mirror.
+
+He spoke in a lower voice:
+
+'How often must I tell you? You know perfectly well.'
+
+'What?'
+
+'I'm not that sort of man.'
+
+'What sort?'
+
+After a moment's pause he said:
+
+'I can't kiss people.'
+
+'I'm very glad you can't. I have no wish for you to kiss _people_.'
+
+'I can't kiss. I don't know how anyone can. I can't do those things.'
+
+She pretended not to hear, looked round the room, took up a book and
+said:
+
+'Will you lend me this, Aylmer?'
+
+'No, I'll give it you.'
+
+'Good-bye.'
+
+'Good-bye, darling,' said Aylmer, ringing the bell.
+
+The butler called her a cab, and she drove to Mrs Mitchell's.
+
+When she got to the door she left a message with the footman to say she
+hadn't been able to see about that matter for Mrs Mitchell yet, but
+would do it tomorrow.
+
+Just as she was speaking Mr Mitchell came up to the door.
+
+'Hallo, hallo, hallo!' he cried in his cheery, booming voice.
+
+'Hallo, Edith! How's Bruce?'
+
+'Why, you ought to know. He's been with you today,' said Edith.
+
+'He seems a bit off colour at the Foreign Office. Won't you all three
+come and dine with us tomorrow? No party. I'm going to ring up and get
+Aylmer. It won't hurt him to dine quietly with us.'
+
+'We shall be delighted,' said Edith.
+
+Mr Mitchell didn't like to see her go, but as he was longing to tell his
+wife a hundred things that interested them both, he waved his hand to
+her, saying:
+
+'Good-bye. The war will be over in six months. Mark my words! And then
+won't we have a good time!'
+
+'Dear Mr Mitchell!' said Edith to herself as she drove back home in the
+dark.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+Landi was growing rather anxious about his favourite, for it was quite
+obvious to him that she was daily becoming more and more under the
+spell. Curious that the first time she should have found the courage to
+refuse, and that now, after three years' absence and with nothing to
+complain of particularly on the subject of her husband, she should now
+be so carried away by this love.
+
+She had developed, no doubt. She was touched also, deeply moved at the
+long fidelity Aylmer had shown. He was now no longer an impulsive
+admirer, but a devotee. Even that, however, would not have induced her
+to think of making such a break in her life if it hadn't been for the
+war. Yes, Sir Tito put it all down to the war. It had an exciting,
+thrilling effect on people. It made them reckless. When a woman knows
+that the man she loves has risked his life, and is only too anxious to
+risk it again--well, it's natural that she should feel she is also
+willing to risk something. Valour has always been rewarded by beauty.
+And then her great sense of responsibility, her conscientiousness about
+Bruce--no wonder that had been undermined by his own weak conduct. How
+could Edith help feeling a slight contempt for a husband who not only
+wouldn't take any chances while he was still within the age, but
+positively imagined himself ill. True, Bruce had always been a _malade
+imaginaire_; like many others with the same weakness, his
+valetudinarianism had been terribly increased by the anxiety and worry
+of the war. But there was not much sympathy about for it just now. While
+so much real suffering was going on, imaginary ills were ignored,
+despised or forgotten.
+
+Bruce hated the war; but he didn't hate it for the sake of other people
+so much as for his own. The interest that the world took in it
+positively bored him--absurd as it seems to say so, Edith was convinced
+that he was positively jealous of the general interest in it! He had
+great fear of losing his money, a great terror of Zeppelins; he gave way
+to his nerves instead of trying to control them. Edith knew his greatest
+wish would have been, had it been possible, to get right away from
+everything and go and live in Spain or America, or somewhere where he
+could hear no more about the war. Such a point of view might be
+understood in the case, say, of a great poet, a great artist, a man of
+genius, without any feeling of patriotism, or even a man beyond the age;
+but Bruce--he was the most ordinary and average of human beings, the
+most commonplace Englishman of thirty-seven who had ever been born; that
+Bruce should feel like that did seem to Edith a little--contemptible;
+yet she was sorry for him, she knew he really suffered from insomnia and
+nerves, though he looked a fine man and had always been regarded as a
+fair sportsman. He had been fair at football and cricket, and could row
+a bit, and was an enthusiastic golfist; still, Edith knew he would never
+have made a soldier. Bruce wanted to be wrapped up in cotton wool,
+petted, humoured, looked up to and generally spoilt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But what Sir Tito felt most was the thought of his favourite, who had
+forgiven her husband that escapade three years ago, now appearing in an
+unfavourable light. She had been absolutely faithful to Bruce in every
+way, under many temptations, and he knew she was still absolutely
+faithful. Aylmer and Edith were neither of them the people for secret
+meetings, for deception. It was not in her to _tromper_ her husband
+while pretending to be a devoted wife, and it was equally unlike Aylmer
+to be a false friend.
+
+Landi was too much of a man of the world to have been particularly
+shocked, even if he had known they had both deceived Bruce. Privately,
+for Edith's own sake he almost wished they had. He hated scandal to
+touch her; he thought she would feel it more than she supposed. But,
+after all, he reflected, had they begun in that way it would have been
+sure to end in an elopement, with a man of Aylmer's spirit and
+determination. Aylmer, besides, was far too exclusive in his affections,
+far too jealous, ever to be able to endure to see Edith under Bruce's
+thumb, ordered about, trying to please him; and indeed Landi was most
+anxious that they should not be alone too much, in case, now that Edith
+cared for him so much, his feelings would carry him away.... Yes, if it
+once went too far the elopement was a certainty.
+
+Would the world blame her so very much? That Bruce would let her take
+the children Landi had no doubt. He would never stand the bother of
+them; he wouldn't desire the responsibility; his pride might be a little
+hurt, but on the whole Sir Tito shrewdly suspected, as did Edith
+herself, that there would be a certain feeling of relief. Bruce had
+become such an egotist that, though he would miss Edith's devotion, he
+wouldn't grudge her the care of the children. Aylmer had pledged her his
+faith, his whole future; undoubtedly he would marry her and take the
+children as his own; still, Edith would bear the brunt before the world.
+
+This Sir Tito did not fancy at all, and instinctively he began to watch
+Bruce. He felt very doubtful of him. The man who had flirted with the
+governess, who had eloped with the art student--was it at all likely
+that he was utterly faithful to Edith now? It was most unlikely. And
+Edith's old friend hoped that things would be adjusted in fairness
+to her.
+
+He knew she would be happy with Aylmer. Why should she not at
+thirty-five begin a new life with the man she really cared for--a
+splendid fellow, a man with a fine character, with all his faults, who
+felt the claims of others, who had brains, pluck, and a sense of honour?
+
+But Aylmer was going out again to the front. Until he returned again,
+nothing should be done. They should be patient.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+Dulcie had now been settled down with Lady Conroy for about a week. She
+found her luxurious life at Carlton House Terrace far more congenial
+than she had expected. Her own orderly ways were obviously a great
+comfort to her employer, and though Lady Conroy turned everything to
+chaos as soon as Dulcie had put it straight, still she certainly had a
+good effect on things in general. She had a charming sitting-room to
+herself, and though she sometimes sighed for the little Chippendale room
+with the chintzes, at Jermyn Street, she was on the whole very
+contented. Lady Conroy was a delightful companion. She seldom pressed
+Dulcie to come down to meals when there were guests. Occasionally she
+did so, but so far the only person Dulcie had met more than once was
+Valdez, the handsome composer, who was trying so hard, with the help of
+Lady Conroy and his War Emergency Concerts, to assist such poor
+musicians as were suffering from the war, and at the same time to assert
+the value of British music.
+
+Dulcie had been immensely struck by the commanding appearance and manner
+of Valdez, known everywhere as a singer, a writer of operas and a
+favourite of foreign royalties.
+
+Landi she had often met at Aylmer's, but, privately, she was far more
+impressed by Valdez; first, he was English, though, like herself, of
+Spanish descent, and then he had none of the _méchanceté_ and teasing
+wit that made her uncomfortable with Landi. He treated her with
+particularly marked courtesy, and he admired her voice, for Lady Conroy
+had good-naturedly insisted on her singing to him. He had even offered,
+when he had more time, to give her a few lessons. Lady Conroy told her a
+hundred interesting stories about him and Dulcie found a tinge of
+romance about him that helped to give piquancy to her present life.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was very much afraid of Lord Conroy, though he didn't appear to
+notice her. In his own way he was as absent-minded as his wife, to whom
+he was devoted, but whose existence was entirely independent of his.
+
+Lord Conroy had his own library, his own secretary, his own suite of
+rooms, his own motor, he didn't even tell his wife when he intended to
+dine out, and if he occasionally spoke to her of the strained political
+situation which now absorbed him, it certainly wasn't when Dulcie was
+there. With his grey beard and dark, eyebrows, and absent, distinguished
+manner, he was exactly what Dulcie would have dreamed of as an ideal
+Cabinet Minister. He evidently regarded his wife, despite her
+thirty-eight years and plumpness, almost as a child, giving her complete
+freedom to pursue her own devices, admiring her appearance, and smiling
+at her lively and inconsequent conversation; he didn't seem to take her
+seriously. Dulcie was particularly struck by the fact that they each had
+their own completely distinct circle of friends, and except when they
+gave a party or a large dinner these friends hardly met, and certainly
+didn't clash.
+
+As everyone in the house had breakfasts independently, and as Dulcie
+didn't even dine downstairs unless Lady Conroy was alone, she saw very
+little of the man whom she knew to be a political celebrity, and whose
+name was on almost everybody's lips just now. She heard from his wife
+that he was worried and anxious, and hoped the war wouldn't last
+much longer.
+
+There were no less than seven children, from the age of twelve
+downwards. Two of these lived in the schoolroom with the governess, one
+boy was at school, and the rest lived in the nursery with the nurse. One
+might say there were five different sets of people living different
+lives in different rooms, in this enormous house. Sometimes Dulcie
+thought it was hardly quite her idea of home life, a thing Lady Conroy
+talked of continually with great sentiment and enthusiasm, but it was
+pleasant enough. Since she was here to remember engagements and dates
+everything seemed to go on wheels.
+
+One day, feeling very contented and in good spirits, she had gone to see
+her father with an impulse to tell him how well she was getting on.
+Directly the door was opened by the untidy servant Dulcie felt that
+something had happened, that some blow had fallen. Everything looked
+different. She found her father in his den surrounded by papers, his
+appearance and manner so altered that the first thing she said was:
+
+'Oh, papa! what's the matter?'
+
+Her father looked up. At his expression she flew to him and threw her
+arms round him. Then, of course, he broke down. Strange that with all
+women and most men it is only genuine sympathy that makes them give way.
+With a cool man of the world, or with a hard, cold, heartless daughter
+who had reproached him, Mr Clay would have been as casual as an
+undergraduate.
+
+At her sweetness he lost his self-control, and then he told her
+everything.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a short, commonplace, second-rate story, quite trivial and
+middle-class, and _how_ tragic! He had gambled, played cards, lost, then
+fallen back on the resource of the ill-judged and independent-minded--gone
+to the professional lenders. Mr Clay was not the sort of man who would
+ever become a sponge, a nuisance to friends. He was far too proud, and
+though he had often helped other people, he had never yet asked for help.
+In a word, the poor little house was practically in ruins, or rather, as
+he explained frankly enough (giving all details), unless he could get
+eighty pounds by the next morning his furniture would be sold and he and
+his wife would be turned out. Mr Clay had a great horror of a smash. He
+was imprudent, even reckless, but had the sense of honour that would cause
+him to suffer acutely, as Dulcie knew. Of course she offered to help;
+surely since she had three hundred a year of her own she could do
+something, and he had about the same....The father explained that he had
+already sold his income in advance. And her own legacy had been left so
+that she was barred from anticipation. Dulcie, who was practical enough,
+saw that her own tiny income was absolutely all that the three would have
+to live on until her father got something else, and that bankruptcy was
+inevitable unless she could get him eighty pounds in a day.
+
+'It's so little,' he said pathetically, 'and just to think that if Blue
+Boy hadn't been scratched I should have been bound to--Well, well, I
+know. I'm not going to bet any more.'
+
+She made him promise to buck up, she would consult her friends.... Lady
+Conroy would perhaps be angelic and advance her her salary. (Of course
+she loathed the idea when she had been there only a week of being a
+nuisance and--But she must try.) It was worth anything to see her father
+brighten up. He told her to go and see her stepmother.
+
+Mrs. Clay received her with the tenderest expressions and poured out her
+despairs and her troubles; she also confided in Dulcie that she had some
+debts that her husband knew nothing of and must _never_ know. If only
+Dulcie could manage to get her thirty pounds--surely it would be easy
+enough with all her rich friends!--it would save her life. Dulcie
+promised to try, but begged her not to bother so much about dress
+in future.
+
+'Of course I won't, darling! You're a pet and an angel. _Darling_
+Dulcie! The truth is I adore your father. And he always told me that he
+fell in love with me because I looked so smart! I was so terrified of
+losing his affection by getting dowdy, don't you see? Besides, he
+doesn't take the slightest notice what I wear, he never knows what I've
+got on! Always betting or absorbed in the Racing Intelligence; it's
+really dreadful.'
+
+Dulcie promised anything, at least to do her best, if only Mrs Clay
+would be kind, sweet to her father.
+
+'Don't scold him, don't reproach him,' she begged. 'I'm sure he'll be
+terribly ill unless you're very patient and sweet to him. And I promise
+he shall never know about your debts.'
+
+Mrs Clay looked at her in wonder and gratitude. The real reason Dulcie
+took on herself the wife's separate troubles and resolved to keep them
+from her father was that she felt sure that if he reproached his wife
+she would retort and then there would be a miserable state of feud in
+the house, where at least there had been peace and affection till now.
+Dulcie couldn't endure the idea of her father being made unhappy, and
+she thought that by making her stepmother under an obligation to her,
+she would have a sort of hold or influence and could make her behave
+well and kindly to her husband. Dulcie hadn't the slightest idea how she
+was going to do it, but she would.
+
+She never even thought twice about giving up her income to her father.
+She was only too delighted to be able to do it. And she believed that
+his pride and sense of honour might really even make him stop gambling.
+And then there was some chance of happiness for the couple again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie had really undertaken more of a sacrifice for her stepmother,
+whom she rather disliked, than for her father, whom she adored, but it
+was for his sake. She left them cheered, grateful, and relying on her.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she got home to her charming room at Carlton House Terrace she sat
+down, put her head in her hands and began to think. She had undertaken
+to get a hundred and ten pounds in two days.
+
+How was she to do it? Of course she knew that Aylmer Ross would be able
+and willing, indeed enchanted, to come to the rescue. He was always
+telling her that she had saved his life.
+
+She would like to get his sympathy and interest, to remind him of her
+existence.
+
+But she was far too much in love with him still to endure the thought of
+a request for money--that cold douche on friendship! She would rather go
+to anyone in the world than Aylmer.
+
+What about Edith Ottley? Edith had been kindness itself to her; it was
+entirely through Edith that she had this position as secretary and
+companion at a salary of a hundred a year which now would mean so
+much to her.
+
+She admired Edith more than any woman she knew; she thought her lovely,
+elegant, clever, fascinating and kindness itself. Yet she would dislike
+to ask Edith even more than Aylmer. The reason was obvious. Edith was
+her rival. Of course it was not her fault. She had not taken Aylmer away
+from her, she was his old friend, but the fact remained that her idol
+was in love with Edith. And Dulcie was so constituted that she could ask
+neither of them a favour to save her life.
+
+Lady Conroy then.... But how awkward, how disagreeable, how painful to
+her pride when she had been there only a week and Lady Conroy treated
+her almost like a sister!... There was a knock at the door.
+
+'Come in!' said Dulcie, surprised. No-one ever came to her little
+sitting-room at this hour, about half-past five. Who could it be? To her
+utter astonishment and confusion the servant announced Mr Valdez.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie was sitting on the sofa, still in her hat and coat, her eyes red
+with crying, for she had utterly given way when she got home. She was
+amazed and confused at seeing the composer, who came calmly in, holding
+a piece of music in his hand.
+
+'Good morning, Miss Clay. Please forgive me. I hope I'm not troubling
+you? They told me Lady Conroy was out but that you were at home and up
+here; and I hoped--' He glanced at the highly decorated little piano.
+This room had been known as the music-room before it was given
+to Dulcie.
+
+'Oh, not at all,' she said in confusion, looking up and regretting her
+crimson and swollen eyes and generally unprepared appearance.
+
+He immediately came close to her, sat down on a chair opposite her sofa,
+leant forward and said abruptly, in a tone of warm sympathy:
+
+'You are distressed. What is it, my child? I came up to ask you to play
+over this song. But I shall certainly not go now till you've told me
+what's the matter.'
+
+'Oh, I can't,' said Dulcie, breaking down.
+
+He insisted:
+
+'You can. You shall. I'm sure I can help you. Go on.'
+
+Whether it was his personality which always had a magnetism for her, or
+the reaction of the shock she had had, Dulcie actually told him every
+word, wondering at herself. He listened, and then said cooly:
+
+'My dear child, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. People
+mustn't worry about trifles. Just before the war I won a lot of money at
+Monte Carlo. I simply don't know what to do with it. Stop!' he said, as
+she began to speak. 'You want a hundred and ten pounds. You shall have
+it in half-an-hour. I shall go straight back to Claridge's in a taxi,
+write a cheque, get it changed--for you won't know what to do with a
+cheque, or at any rate it would give you more trouble--and send you the
+money straight back by my servant or my secretary in a taxi.' He stood
+up. 'Not another word, my dear Miss Clay. Don't attach so much
+importance to money. It would be a bore for you to have to bother Lady
+Conroy. I understand. Don't imagine you're under any obligation; you can
+pay it me back just whenever you like and I shall give it to the War
+Emergency Concerts.... Now, _please_, don't be grateful. Aren't
+we friends?'
+
+'You're too kind,' she answered.
+
+He hurried to the door.
+
+'When my secretary comes back she will ask to see you. If anyone knows
+you have a visitor say I sent you the music or tickets for the concert.
+Good-bye. Cheer up now!'
+
+In an hour from the time Valdez had come in to see her, father and
+stepmother had each received the money. The situation was saved.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dulcie marvelled at the action and the manner in which it was done. But
+none who knew Valdez well would have been in the least surprised. He was
+the most generous of men, and particularly he could not bear to see a
+pretty girl in sincere distress through no fault of her own. It was
+Dulcie's simple sincerity that pleased him. He came across very little
+of it in his own world. That world was brilliant, distinguished,
+sometimes artistic, sometimes merely _mondain_. But it was seldom
+sincere. He liked that quality best of all. He certainly was gifted with
+it himself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From this time, though Valdez still encouraged Dulcie to sing and
+occasionally accompanied her, the slight tinge of flirtation vanished
+from his manner. She felt he was only a friend. Did she ever regret it?
+Perhaps, a little.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+'Bruce, said Edith, 'I've just had a letter from Aylmer, from
+Eastcliff.'
+
+'Oh yes,' said Bruce. 'Got him off to the seaside at last, did they?'
+
+It was a Sunday afternoon. Bruce was sitting in a melancholy attitude on
+a sofa in Edith's boudoir; he held _The Weekly Dispatch_ in his hand,
+and was shaking his head over a pessimistic article when his wife
+came in.
+
+Bruce was always depressed now, and if he felt a little more cheerful
+for a moment he seemed to try and conceal it. No doubt his melancholy
+was real enough, but it was also partly a pose and a profession. Having
+undertaken to be depressed, he seemed to think it wrong to show a gleam
+of brightness. Besides, on Sundays Madame Frabelle usually listened to
+him; and this afternoon she had gone, unaccompanied, to hear the Rev.
+Byrne Fraser preach. Bruce felt injured.
+
+He had grown to feel quite lost without her.
+
+'He's very dull there,' said Edith.
+
+'I dare say he is,' he answered. 'I'm sure _I_ should feel half inclined
+to cut my throat if I were alone, with a game leg, at a place like that.
+Besides, they've had the Zepps there already once. Just the place for
+them to come again.'
+
+'He's very bored. But he's much better, and he's going back to the front
+in a fortnight.'
+
+'In a fortnight! Good heavens! Pretty sharp work.'
+
+'It is, indeed. He's counting the hours till he can get off.'
+
+Bruce, sighing, lighted his cigarette.
+
+'I wondered if you'd mind, Bruce, if I went down for the day to see
+him?'
+
+'Mind! Oh _dear_, no! Of course, go. I think it's your duty, poor old
+chap. I wondered you didn't run down for the weekend.'
+
+'I didn't like to do that,' she said.
+
+'Why on earth not?' said Bruce. 'Hard luck for a poor chap with no-one
+to speak to. Going back again; so soon too.'
+
+'Well, if you don't mind I _might_ go down tomorrow for a couple of
+days, and take Dilly.'
+
+'Do,' said Bruce eagerly; 'do the kid good.'
+
+Edith looked at him closely.
+
+'Wouldn't you miss her, now that Archie's at school too? Wouldn't the
+house seem very quiet?'
+
+'Not a bit!' exclaimed Bruce with emphatic sincerity. 'Not the least bit
+in the world! At least, of course, the house _would_ seem quiet, but
+that's just what I like. I _long_ for quiet--yearn for it. You don't
+half understand my condition of health, Edith. The quieter I am, the
+less worried, the better. Of course, take Dilly. _Rather_! I'd _like_
+you to go!'
+
+'All right. I'll go tomorrow morning till Tuesday or Wednesday. But
+wouldn't it seem the least bit rude to Madame Frabelle? She talks of
+going away soon, you know.'
+
+'Oh, she won't mind,' said Bruce decidedly. 'I shouldn't bother about
+her. We never treat her with ceremony.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When, a little bit later, Madame Frabelle came in (with a slight perfume
+of incense about her, and very full of a splendidly depressing sermon
+she had heard), she heartily agreed with Bruce. They both persuaded
+Edith to run down on the Monday and stay till Wednesday evening
+at least.
+
+'Perhaps we shall never meet again,' said Bruce pleasantly, as Edith,
+Dilly and the nurse were starting; 'either the Zeppelins may come while
+you're away, or they may set your hotel at Eastcliff on fire. Just the
+place for them.'
+
+'Well, if you want me you've only to telephone, and I can be back in a
+little more than an hour.'
+
+Madame Frabelle accompanied Edith to the station. She said to her on the
+way:
+
+'Do you know, Edith, I'm half expecting a telegram which may take me
+away. I have a relative who is anxious for me to go and stay with her,
+an aunt. But even if I did go, perhaps you'd let me come back to
+you after?'
+
+Edith assented. Somehow she did not much believe either in the telegram
+nor the relative. She thought that her friend talked like that so as to
+give the impression that she was not a fixture; that she was much sought
+after and had many friends, one or two of whom might insist on her
+leaving the Ottleys soon.
+
+Aylmer was at the little Eastcliff station to meet them. Except that he
+walked with the help of a stick, he seemed well, and having put Dilly,
+the nurse and the luggage in a cab, he proposed to Edith to walk to
+the hotel.
+
+'This _was_ angelic of you, Edith. How jolly the child looks!--like a
+live doll.'
+
+'You didn't mind my bringing her?'
+
+'Why, I'm devoted to her. But, you know, I hope it wasn't done for any
+conventional reasons. Headley and I are in the Annexe, nearly
+half-a-mile from you.'
+
+'I know,' said Edith.
+
+'And when you see the people here, my dear, nobody on earth that counts
+or matters!--people whom you've never seen before and never will again.
+But I've been counting the minutes till you came. It really isn't a bad
+little hole.'
+
+He took her down to a winding path covered in under trees, which led to
+the sea by steps cut in the rock. They sat down on a bench. The sea air
+was fresh and soothing.
+
+'This is where I sit and read--and think about you. Well, Edith, are you
+going to put me out of my suspense? How much longer am I to suffer? Let
+me look at you.'
+
+She looked up at him. He smiled at what he saw.
+
+'It'll be rather jolly to have two days or so here all to ourselves,' he
+said, 'but it will be far from jolly unless you give me that promise.'
+
+'But doesn't the promise refer to after you come back again?' she said
+in a low voice.
+
+'I don't ask you to come away until I'm back again. But I want you to
+promise before that you will.'
+
+Nothing more was said on the subject at the time, but after dinner, when
+Dilly had been put to bed, it was so warm that they could come out
+again, and then she said:
+
+'Aylmer, don't worry yourself any more. I mean to do it.'
+
+'You do!'
+
+He looked at her ecstatically.
+
+'Oh, Edith! I'm too happy! Do you quite realise, dear, what it is?...
+I've been waiting for you for four years. Ever since that night I met
+you at the Mitchells'. Do you know that before the war, when I came into
+that money, I was wild with rage. It seemed so wasted on me. I had no
+use for it then. And when I first met you I used to long for it. I hated
+being hard up.... The first time I had a gleam of hope was when they
+told me I'd got over the operation all right. I couldn't believe my life
+would be spared, for nothing. And now--you won't change your
+mind again?'
+
+Edith convinced him that she would not. They sat hand in hand, perhaps
+as near perfect happiness as two human beings can be....
+
+'We shall never be happier than we are now,' said Edith in a low voice.
+
+'Oh, shan't we?' he said. 'Rubbish! Rot! What about our life when I come
+back again?--every dream realised!'
+
+'And yet your going to risk it,' said Edith.
+
+'Naturally; that's nothing. I shall come back like a bad penny, don't
+you worry. Edith, say you mean it, _again_.'
+
+'Say I mean what?'
+
+'Say you love me, you'll marry me. You and the children will belong to
+me. You won't have any regrets? Swear you won't have any regrets
+and remorse!'
+
+'I never will. You know, Aylmer, I am like that. Most women know what
+they want till they've got it, and then they want something else! But
+when I get what I want I don't regret it.'
+
+'I know, my darling sensible angel!... Edith, to think this might have
+happened three years ago!'
+
+'But then I _would_ have had regrets.'
+
+'You only thought so,' he answered. 'I should have made you forget them
+very soon! Don't you feel, my dear, that we're made for each other?
+I know it.'
+
+'Aylmer, how shall I be able to bear your going out again? It will be
+like a horrible nightmare. And perhaps all we've both gone through may
+be for nothing!'
+
+'No, now I've got your promise everything will be all right.... I feel I
+shall come back all right.... Look here, darling, you need not be
+unhappy with Bruce. We're not going to deceive him. And when I come
+back, we'll tell him. Not till then. There is really no need.'
+
+They walked together to the Annexe, which was entered by a small flight
+of stone steps from the garden. Here Aylmer had a little suite of rooms.
+Edith went into the sitting-room with him and looked round.
+
+'It's ten o'clock and you're here for your health! Call Headley and go
+to bed, there's a good boy.'
+
+He held both her hands.
+
+'I mustn't ask you to stay.'
+
+'_Aylmer_! With Dilly here! And Bruce let me come down to look after
+you! He was quite nice about it.'
+
+'All right, dear, all right.... I know. No. I'm looking forward to when
+I come back.... Go, dear, go.'
+
+Edith walked very slowly down the steps again. He followed her back into
+the garden.
+
+'And suppose--you didn't come back,' she said in a very low voice.
+
+Aylmer glanced round: there was no-one in the garden.
+
+'I'm on my honour here,' he said. 'Go, dear, go. Go in to Dilly.' He
+gave her a little push.
+
+'One kiss,' said Edith.
+
+He smiled.
+
+'Darling girl, I've told you before that's a thing I can't do. I really
+oughtn't to be alone with you at all until we're quite free....'
+
+'But I feel we're engaged,' said Edith simply. 'Is it wrong to kiss your
+fiancée?'
+
+'Engaged? Of course we're engaged. Wrong? Of course it's not wrong! Only...
+I _can't_! Haven't got the self-command.... I do believe you're made
+of ice, Edith--I've often thought so.'
+
+'Yes,' said Edith, 'I dare say you're right.'
+
+Aylmer laughed.
+
+'Nonsense! Good night, my darling--don't catch cold. And, Edith.'
+
+'Yes, Aylmer?'
+
+'I'll meet you here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.'
+
+'Yes, Aylmer.'
+
+'Then you'd better go back in the afternoon. It won't do for you to stay
+another night here. Oh, Edith, how happy we _shall_ be!'
+
+He watched her as she walked across the garden and went into the hotel
+at the front door. Then he went indoors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day Edith, Dilly and the nurse went back to London early in the
+afternoon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+Edith, during the short journey home, sat with a smile on her lips,
+thinking of a little scene she had seen before leaving Eastcliff from
+the hall, known as the lounge, of the hotel. She had watched Dilly,
+beaming with joy, playing with a particularly large air-ball, bright
+rose colour, that Aylmer had bought her from a well-known character of
+the place, a very old woman, who made her living by the sale of these
+old-fashioned balloons. Dilly was enchanted with it. She had said to
+Aylmer when the old woman passed with a quantity of them. 'They look
+like flowers; they ought to have a pretty scent,' which amused him
+immensely. As she held it in her hand, pressing it with her tiny finger,
+a tragedy happened. The air-ball burst. Edith could hardly help laughing
+at seeing Dilly's expression. It was despair--gradual horror--shock, her
+first disillusion! Then as tears were welling up in the large blue
+eyes--she was saying: 'Oh, it's dead!'--Edith saw Aylmer snatch the
+collapsed wreck from the child's hand and run as fast as he could (which
+was not very fast, and only when leaning on a stick) after the old
+woman.... He caught her as she turned the corner, brought back a pink
+and a blue air-ball and gave them to Dilly, one for each hand. The child
+beamed again, happier than at first, threw her arms round his neck and
+kissed him. How touched and delighted Edith was! Would Bruce _ever_ have
+done such a thing? Aylmer had so thoroughly appreciated the little drama
+of joy, disillusion and consolation shown in the expression in Dilly's
+lovely little face. Had anything been wanting to Edith's resolution this
+small incident would have decided it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When they arrived home, a day sooner than they were expected, the
+servant told Edith at the door that Madame Frabelle had gone away.
+
+'Gone without seeing me?'
+
+'Yes, madam. A telegram came for her and she left last night. Here is a
+letter for you, madam.'
+
+Edith ran into the dining-room and tore it open.
+
+'MY DEAREST EDITH (it said),
+
+'To my great regret a wire I half expected came, and I was compelled to
+leave before your return, to join my relative, who is ill. I can't tell
+you how sorry I am not to say good-bye and thank you for your dear kind
+hospitality. But I'll write again, a long letter. I hope also to see you
+later. I will give you my address next time.
+
+'May I say one word? I can't say half enough of my gratitude for your
+kindness and friendship, but, apart from that, may I mention that I
+fear your husband _is very unwell indeed_, his nerves are in a terrible
+state, and I think his condition is more serious than you suppose. He
+should be humoured in everything, not worried, and allowed to do
+whatever he likes. Don't oppose any of his wishes, dear. I say this for
+your and his own good. Don't be angry with him or anybody. Never think
+me wanting in gratitude and friendship.
+
+'Truly, I am still your affectionate friend,
+
+'EGLANTINE.'
+
+What a strange letter. How like her to lay down the law about Bruce! It
+irritated Edith a little, also it made the future seem harder.
+
+About four o'clock Landi called unexpectedly. He always came just when
+Edith wanted him most, and now she confided in him and told him of her
+promise to Aylmer.
+
+He approved of their resolution to wait till Aylmer returned from the
+front and to have nothing on their conscience before. He was indeed much
+relieved at the postponement.
+
+'And how is the Spanish girl?' he asked. 'How does she get on with Lady
+Conroy?'
+
+'Oh, all right. She's not Spanish at all. She had rather a blow last
+week, poor girl. Her father nearly went bankrupt; she was quite in
+despair. It seems your friend Valdez came to the rescue in the most
+generous way, and she's immensely grateful.'
+
+'He helped her, did he?' said Landi, smiling.
+
+'He seems to have behaved most generously and charmingly. Do you think
+he is in love with her, Landi?'
+
+'Very likely he will be now.'
+
+'And she--she adores Aylmer. Will she fall in love with Valdez out of
+gratitude?'
+
+'C'est probable. C'est à espérer.... Enfin-mais toi, mon enfant?'
+
+'And where is Madame Frabelle?' asked Landi.
+
+Edith looked at the postmark.
+
+'Apparently she's at Liverpool, of all places; but she may be going
+somewhere else. I haven't got her address. She says she'll write.'
+
+'C'est ça.... When does Aylmer return to the front?'
+
+'He goes before the Board tomorrow and will know then.'
+
+That evening, when Bruce came in, Edith was struck by his paleness and
+depression; and she began to think Madame Frabelle was right; he must be
+really ill. Then, if he was, could she, later, be so cruel as to leave
+him? She was in doubt again....
+
+'Very bad news in the evening papers,' he said.
+
+'Is it so bad?'
+
+'Edith,' said Bruce, rather solemnly, without listening, 'I want to
+speak to you after dinner. I have something serious to say to you'.
+
+'Really?'
+
+'Yes, really.'
+
+Edith wondered. Could Bruce suspect anything? But apparently he didn't,
+since he spoke in a very friendly way of Aylmer, saying that he hoped he
+wouldn't stop away long....
+
+The dinner passed in trivial conversation. She described Eastcliff, the
+hotel, the people. Bruce appeared absent-minded. After dinner she went
+to join him in the library, where he was smoking, and said:
+
+'Well, Bruce, what is it you have to say to me?'
+
+'Good heavens,' said Bruce, looking at his writing-desk, 'if I've spoken
+of this once I've spoken of it forty times! The inkstand is too full!'
+
+'Oh! I'm so dreadfully sorry,' said Edith, feeling the strangeness of
+Bruce's want of sense of proportion. He had, as it seemed, to speak to
+her about some important matter. Yet the inkstand being too full
+attracted his attention, roused his anger! She remembered he had said
+these very words the day he came back from his elopement with the
+art student.
+
+Edith looked round the room, while Bruce smoked. And so she had really
+made up her mind! She _meant_ to leave him! Not that she intended to see
+Aylmer again now, except once, perhaps, to say good-bye.
+
+But still, she really intended to change her whole life when he returned
+again. She felt rather conscience-stricken, but was glad when she looked
+at Bruce that there had never been anything as yet but Platonic
+affection between her and Aylmer, which she could have no cause to blush
+for before Bruce. And how grateful she felt to Aylmer for his wonderful
+self-control. Thanks to that, she could look Bruce in the face.... Bruce
+was speaking.
+
+'Edith,' he said with some agitation, 'I wish to tell you something.'
+
+She saw he looked pale and nervous.
+
+'What is it, Bruce?' she asked kindly.
+
+'It's this,' he said in a somewhat pompous tone, 'I am in a very strange
+condition of health. I find I can no longer endure to live in London; I
+must get away from the war. The doctor says so. If I'm to keep sane, if
+I'm not to commit suicide, I must give up this domestic life.' She
+stared at him. 'Yes, I'm sorry, I've tried to endure it,' he went on. 'I
+can't stand the responsibility, the anxiety of the children and
+everything. I'm--I'm going away.'
+
+She said nothing, looking at him in silence.
+
+'Yes. I'm going to America. I've taken my passage. I'm going on
+Friday.... I thought of leaving without telling you, but I decided it
+was better to be open.'
+
+'But, Bruce, do you mean for a trip?'
+
+He stood up and looked at her full in the face.
+
+'No, I don't mean for a trip. I want to live in America.'
+
+'And you don't want me to come too?'
+
+'No, Edith; I can't endure married life any longer. It doesn't suit me.
+Three years ago I offered you your freedom and you refused to take it; I
+offer it you again now. You are older, you are perfectly fit to manage
+your life and the children's without me. I must be free--free to look
+after my health and to get away from everything!'
+
+'You mean to leave us altogether then?' said Edith, feeling unspeakably
+thankful.
+
+'Exactly. That's just what I do mean.'
+
+'But will you be happy--comfortable--alone in America?'
+
+He walked across the room and came back.
+
+'Edith, I'm sorry to pain you, but I shall not be alone.'
+
+Edith started, thinking of Madame Frabelle's letter ... from Liverpool!
+Evidently they were going away together.
+
+'Of course I give up the Foreign Office and my salary there, but you
+have some money of your own, Edith; it will be enough for you and the
+children to live quietly. And perhaps I shall be able to afford to send
+you part of my income that my father left me when I get something to do
+over there,' he added rather lamely.
+
+'You mean to get something to do?'
+
+'Yes; when I'm strong enough. I'm very ill--very.'
+
+There was a long pause, then Edith said kindly:
+
+'Have you any fault to find with me, Bruce?'
+
+'Edith, you are a perfect mother,' he said in a peculiar tone which
+sounded to Edith like an echo of Madame Frabelle. 'I've no fault to find
+with you either as a wife. But I'm not happy here. I'm miserable. I
+implore you not to make a scene. Don't oppose me; forgive me--on account
+of my health. This will save my life.'
+
+If he only knew how little she wished to oppose him! She stood up.
+
+'Bruce, you shall do exactly as you like!'
+
+He looked enchanted, relieved.
+
+'I hope you will be happy and well, and I shall try to be. May I just
+ask--is Madame Frabelle going to America?'
+
+'Edith, I will not deny it. We mean to throw in our lot together! Look
+out! You'll have the inkstand over!' She had moved near the
+writing-table.
+
+Edith stopped herself from a hysterical laugh.
+
+'You won't mind if I go down to the club for an hour?'
+
+'Certainly not.'
+
+'And, Edith--say what you can to my mother, and comfort her. Tell her
+it's to save my going off my head, or committing suicide. Will you
+say that?'
+
+'I will,' she replied.
+
+Five minutes later the door banged. Bruce had gone to the club. He
+hadn't told her he had taken a room there, and the same evening he sent
+up for his luggage. He did not wish to see Edith again.
+
+Just before he went out, as if casually for an hour at the club, Edith
+had said:
+
+'Would you like to come and see Dilly asleep?'
+
+It had occurred to her that at least he had been frank and honest, and
+for that he deserved to see Dilly again.
+
+'Edith, my nerves won't stand scenes. I'd better not. I won't see her.'
+
+'Oh, very well!' she cried indignantly. 'I offered it for your sake. I
+would rather you _didn't_ see her.'
+
+'Try not to be angry, Edith. Perhaps--some day--'
+
+'No. Never.'
+
+'You would never let me come back again to see you all?'
+
+'Never. Never.'
+
+'Edith.'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Oh! nothing. You needn't be so cross. Remember my health.'
+
+'I do,' said Edith.
+
+'And--Edith.'
+
+'Yes, Bruce?'
+
+'Don't forget about that inkstand, will you? It's always filled just a
+little too full. It's--it's very awkward.... Remember about it,
+won't you?'
+
+'Yes. Good night.'
+
+'Good night.'
+
+And Bruce went to the club.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day Edith felt she could neither write nor telephone to Aylmer.
+Just once--only once, for a long time--she must see him.
+
+She confided in Landi, who invited them both to tea at his studio for
+once only and was urgent in impressing patience on them.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Edith arrived with this thrilling piece of news to announce she
+found Aylmer alone in the pretty white studio. Landi was expected back
+every moment from a lesson at a pupil's house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Aylmer was beaming with Joy. 'Oh, my dear!' he cried, 'I'm not going
+away at all! They won't have me! They've given me an appointment at the
+War Office.'
+
+'Oh, Aylmer! How wonderful! I know now--I couldn't have borne your going
+out again--now.'
+
+He put his arm round her. Ah! this, she felt, was real love--it wrapped
+her round, it lifted her off her feet.
+
+'But now, Aylmer, we mustn't meet, for a long time.'
+
+'But, why not? What is it? Something has happened!'
+
+'Aylmer, I needn't keep my promise now.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+'Aylmer, Bruce wants to leave me. He's going to leave me--to desert me.
+And the children, too.'
+
+'What! Do you mean--Do you mean--like before?'
+
+'Yes. But this time he won't come back. And he wants me to divorce him.
+And--this time--I shall!'
+
+'Edith! And do you mean--will he want to marry again?'
+
+'Yes, of course! And she'll take care of him--he'll be all right.'
+
+'Oh, Edith!' exclaimed Aylmer. 'Thank heaven for Madame Frabelle!'
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT ***
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