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diff --git a/35079.txt b/35079.txt deleted file mode 100644 index bd418c5..0000000 --- a/35079.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10312 +0,0 @@ - The Rustle of Silk - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost -no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Title: The Rustle of Silk - -Author: Cosmo Hamilton - -Release Date: January 25, 2011 [EBook #35079] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLE OF SILK *** - - - - -Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net. - - - [Illustration: Betty Compson and Conway Tearle] - - -THE RUSTLE OF SILK - -BY - -COSMO HAMILTON - - -Author of _Scandal_, Etc. - - - - -GROSSET & DUNLAP - -Made in the United States of America - - -Copyright, 1922, -By Cosmo Hamilton. -All rights reserved - -Published April, 1922 -Reprinted April, 1922 (twice) -Reprinted June, 1922 -Reprinted July, 1922 - -Printed in the United States of America - - - - -Contents - - - - PART I - - PART II - - PART III - - PART IV - - PART V - - PART VI - - PART VII - - PART VIII - - - - -PART I - - - -I - - -The man had followed her from Marble Arch,--not a mackerel-eyed old man, -sensual and without respect, but one who responded to emotions as an -artist and was still young and still interested. He had seen her descend -from a motor omnibus, had caught his breath at her disturbing -femininity, had watched her pass like a sunbeam on the garden side of -the road, and in the spirit of a man who sees the materialization of the -very essence of woman, turned and followed. - -All the way along, under branches of trees that were newly peppered with -early green, he watched her and saw other men's heads turn as she -passed,--on busses, in taxicabs, in cars and in the infrequent -horse-drawn carriage that was like a Chaucerian noun dropped into the -pages of a modern book. He saw men stop as he had stopped and catch -their breath and then pursue their way reluctantly. He noticed that -women, especially passee, tired women, paid her tribute by a flash of -smile or a sudden brightness of the eye. There was no conscious effort -to attract in the girl's manner, nothing bizarre or even smart in her -clothing. Her young figure, the perfection of form, was plainly dressed. -She wore the clothes of a student of the lower middle class, of the -small shopkeeping class, and probably either made them herself or bought -them off the peg. There was no startling beauty in her face or anything -wonderful in her eyes, and certainly nothing of challenge, of -coquetry,--nothing but the sublime unself-consciousness of a child. And -yet there was so definite and disordering a sense of sex about her that -she passed through a very procession of tribute. - -The man was a dramatist whose business was to play upon the emotions of -sex, and to watch this child and the stir she made seemed to him to -refute once more the ludicrous attempts of would-be reformers to remold -humanity and prohibit the greatest of the urges of nature, and made him -laugh. He wondered all the way along not who she was, because that -didn't matter, but what she would do and become,--this girl with her -wide-apart eyes, oval face and full red lips, with the nose of a -patrician and the sensitive nostrils of a horse,--if she would quickly -marry in her own class and drift from early motherhood into a -discontented drabness, or burst the bonds and be transferred from her -probable back yard into a great conservatory. - -He marveled at her astonishing detachment and was amused to discover -that she was playing at some sort of game all by herself. From time to -time, as she danced along, she assumed suddenly a dignified and gracious -personality, walking slowly, with a high chin, bowing to imaginary -acquaintances and looking through the railings of Kensington Gardens -with an air of proprietorship. Then she as quickly returned to her own -obviously normal self and hurried a little, conscious of approaching -dusk. Finally, with the cunning of city breeding, she nicked across the -road, and he saw her stop outside the tube station at Bayswater, -arrested by the bill of an evening paper,--"Fallaray against reprisals. -New crisis in the Irish Question. Notable defection from Lloyd-George -forces." - -He watched the girl stand in front of these glaring words and read them -over and over with extraordinary interest. Standing at her elbow, he -heard her heave a quick excited sigh. He imagined that she must be Irish -and watched her enter the station, linger about the bookstall and fasten -eagerly upon a magazine,--so eagerly that he slipped again to her elbow -and looked to see why. On the cover of this fiction monthly was the -photograph of the man whose name was set forth on the poster,--the Right -Hon. Arthur Napier Fallaray, Home Secretary. He knew the face well. It -was one of the few arresting faces in public life; one in which there -was something medieval, something also of Savonarola, Manning, and, in -the eyes, of Christ,--a clean-shaven face, thin and hawk-like, with a -hatchet jaw line, a sad and sensitive mouth and thick brown hair that -went into one or two deep kinks. It might have been the face of a -hunchback or one who had been inflicted from babyhood with paralysis, -obliged to stand aloof from the rush and tear of other children. Only -the head was shown on the cover, not the body that stood six foot one, -the broad shoulders and the long arms suggestive of the latent strength -of a wrestler. - -The flush that suffused the girl's face surprised the watcher and piqued -his curiosity. Fallaray, the ascetic, the married bachelor who lived in -one wing of his house while Lady Feodorowna entertained the resuscitated -Souls in the other,--and this young girl of the lower middle class, -worshiping at his shrine! He would have followed her for the rest of the -afternoon with no other purpose than to study her moods and watch her -stir the passers-by like the whir of an aeroplane or the sudden scent of -lilac. But the arrival of a train swept a crowd between them and he lost -her. He took a ticket to see if she were on one or other of the -platforms, returned to the street and searched up and down. She had -gone. Before he left, another bill was posted upon the board of the -_Evening Standard_. "Fallaray sees Prime Minister. May resign from -cabinet. Uneasiness in Downing Street," and as he walked away, no longer -interested in the psychology of crowds, but with his imagination all -eager and alight, the playwright in him had grasped at the germ of a -dramatic experiment.--Take the man Fallaray, a true and sensitive -patriot, working for no rewards; humanitarian, scholar, untouched by -romance, deaf to the rustle of silk--and that girl, woman to the tips of -her ears, Eve in every movement of her body---- - - - -II - - -"Lola's late," said Mrs. Breezy. "She ought to have been home half an -hour ago." - -Without taking from his eye the magnifying glass through which he was -peering into the entrails of a watch, John Breezy gave a fat man's -chuckle. "Don't you worry about Lola. She's the original good girl and -has more friends among strangers than the pigeons in Kensington Gardens. -She's all right, old dear." - -But Mrs. Breezy never gave more than one ear to her husband. She was not -satisfied. She left her place behind the glistening counter of the -little jewelry shop in Queen's Road, Bayswater, and went out into the -street to see if she could see anything of her ewe lamb,--the one child -of her busy and thrifty married life. On a rain-washed board above her -head was painted "John Breezy, Watchmaker and Jeweler, Founded in 1760 -by Armand de Breze." The name had been Bowdlerized as a concession to -the careless English ear. - -On the curb a legless man was seated in a sort of perambulator with -double wheels, playing a concertina and accompanying another man with no -arms and a glass eye who sang with a gorgeous cockney accent, "Come -hout, Come hout, the Spring is 'ere." A few yards farther down a girl -with the remains of prettiness was playing the violin at the side of an -elderly woman with the smile of professional supplication who held a -small tin cup. The incessant crowd which passed up and down Queen's Road -paid little attention either to these stray dogs or to those who -occupied other competitive positions in this street of constant noises. -Flappers with very short skirts and every known specimen of leg added to -the tragic-comedy of a thoroughfare in which provincialism and -sophistication were like oil and water. Here was drawn the outside line -of polite pretence. The tide of _hoi polloi_ washed up to it and over. -Ex-governors of Indian provinces, utterly unrecognized, ex-officers and -men of gallant British regiments, mostly out of employment, nurse girls -with children, and women of semi-society who lived in those dull barrack -houses of Inverness Terrace, where cats squabbled and tradesmen's boys -fought, passed the anxious mother. - -Not a day went by that she did not hear from Lola of one or perhaps a -series of attempts, in the street, in the Tube, in busses and in the -Park, to win her into conversation. The horror stirred by these accounts -in the heart of the little woman, to say nothing of the terror, seemed -oddly exaggerated to the daughter, who, with her eyes large and gleaming -with fun, described the manner in which she left her unrestrained -admirers flat and inarticulate. There was nothing vain in this -acceptance of male admiration, the mother knew. It was something of -which the child had been aware ever since she could remember; had -accepted without regret; had hitherto put to no use; but which, deep -down in her soul, was recognized as the all-powerful asset of a woman, -not to be bought with money, achieved by art or simulated by acting. - -Not in so many words had this "gift," as Lola called it, been -interpreted and discussed by Mrs. Breezy. On the contrary, she tried to -ignore and hide it away as a dangerous thing which she would have been -ashamed to possess. In the full flower of her own youth there had been -nothing in herself, she thanked God, to lift her out of the great ruck -of women except, as Breezy had discovered, a shrewd head, a tactful -tongue and the infinite capacity for taking pains. And she was ashamed -of it in Lola. It gave her incessant and painful uneasiness and fright -and made her feel, in sleepless hours and while in church, that she had -done some wicked thing before her marriage that must be punished. With -unusual fairness she accepted all the blame but never had had the -courage to tell the truth, either to herself or her husband, as to her -true feelings towards this uncanny child, as she sometimes inwardly -called her. Had she done so, she must have confessed that Lola was the -only human being with whom she had come into touch that remained a total -stranger; she must have owned to having been divided from her child -almost always by a sort of wall, a division of class over which it was -increasingly impossible to cross. - -There were times, indeed, when the little woman had gone down to the -overcrowded parlor behind the shop so consumed with the idea that she -had brought into the world the offspring of another woman that she had -sat down cold and puzzled and with an aching heart. It had seemed to her -then, as now, that something queer and eerie had happened. At the back -of her mind there had been and was still a sort of superstition that -Lola was a changeling, that the fairies or the devil or some imp of -mischief had taken her own baby away at the moment of her birth and -replaced it with an exquisite little creature stolen from the house of -an aristocrat. How else could she account for the tiny wrists, small -delicate hands, those wide blue eyes, those sensitive nostrils and above -all that extraordinary capacity for passing with superb unconsciousness -and yet with supreme sophistication through everyday crowds. - -There was nothing of John in this girl, of that fat Tomcat-like man, -with no more brain than was necessary to peer into watches and repair -jewelry, to look with half an eye at current events and grow into -increasing content on the same small patch of earth. Neither was there -anything of herself, nothing so vulgar as shrewdness, nothing so -commonplace as tact and nothing so legitimate as taking pains. Either -she did things on the spur of an impulse, by inspiration, or she dropped -them, like the shells of nuts. - -In spite of this uncanny idea, Mrs. Breezy loved her little girl, -adopted though she seemed to be, and constant anxiety ran through her -heart like a thread behind a needle. If any man had spoken to _her_ on -the street, she would have screamed or called a policeman. She certainly -would have been immediately covered with goose flesh. Beyond that, if -she had ever discovered that she had been born with the power to stir -the feelings of men at first sight, as music stirs the emotions of an -audience or wind the surface of water, she would have been tempted to -have turned Catholic and taken the veil. - -Not an evening went by, therefore, that did not find Mrs. Breezy on the -step of the shop in Queen's Road, Bayswater, looking anxiously up and -down for the appearance of Lola among the heterogeneous crowd which -infested that street. Always she expected to see at her side a man, -perhaps _the_ man who would take her child away. She had her worries, -poor little woman, more perhaps than most mothers. - -That evening, the light reluctant to leave the sky, Spring's hand upon -the city trees, Lola did bring some one home,--a woman. - - - -III - - -Miss Breezy, sister of John, made a point of spending every Thursday -evening at the neat and gleaming shop in Queen's Road. It was her night -off. Sometimes she turned up with tickets for the theater given to her -by the great lady to whom she acted as housekeeper, sometimes to a -concert and once or twice during the season for the opera. If there were -only two tickets, it was always Lola who enjoyed the other. Mr. and Mrs. -Breezy were contented to hear the child's account of what they gladly -missed on her behalf. Frequently they got more from the girl's -description than they would have received had they used the tickets -themselves. - -It was this woman who unconsciously had made Fallaray the hero of Lola's -dreams. She had brought all the latest gossip from the Fallaray house in -which she had served since that strange wedding ten years before, when -the son of the Minister for Education, himself in the House of Commons, -had gone in a sort of trance to St. Margaret's, Westminster, and come -out of it surprised to find himself married to the eldest daughter of -the Marquis of Amesbury,--the brilliant, beautiful, harum-scarum member -of a pre-war set that had given England many rude shocks, stepped over -all the conventions of an already careless age and done "stunts" which -sent a thrill of horror and amazement all through the body of the old -British Lion; a set whose cynicism, egotism, perversion, hobnobbing with -political enemies, manufacture of erotic poetry and ribald jests had -spread like an epidemic. - -Miss Breezy, whose Christian name was Hannah, as well it might be, -entered in great excitement. "Have you seen the paper?" she asked, -giving her sister-in-law peck to the watchmaker's wife. "Mr. Fallaray's -declared himself against reprisals. He's condemned the methods of the -Black and Tans. They yelled at him in the House this afternoon and -called him Sinn Feiner. Just think of that! If any other man had done -it, I mean any other Minister, Lloyd George could have afforded to -smile. But Mr. Fallaray! It may kill the coalition government, and then -what will happen?" - -All this was given out in the shop itself, luckily empty of customers. -"Woo," said John. "Good gracious me," said Mrs. Breezy. "Just as I -expected," said Lola, and she entered the parlor and threw her books -into a corner and perched herself on the table, swinging her legs. - -"'Just as you expected?' What do you know about it all, pray?" Miss -Breezy regarded the girl with the irritation that goes with those who -forget that little pitchers have ears. She also forgot that the question -of Ireland, of little real importance among all the world's troubles, -was being forced into daily and even hourly notice by brutal murders and -by equally brutal reprisals and that England was, at that moment, racked -from end to end with passionate resentment and anger with which even -children were tainted. - -And Lola laughed,--that ripple of laughter which had made so many men -stand rooted to their shoes after having had the temerity to speak to -her on the spur of the moment, or after many manoeuverings. "What I know -of Mr. Fallaray," she said, "you've taught me. I read the papers for the -rest." And she heaved an enormous sigh and seemed to leave her body and -fly out like a homing pigeon. - -"Don't say anything more until I come back," cried Mrs. Breezy, rapping -her energetic heels on the floor on the way out to close the shop. - -Beamingly important, the bearer of back-stairs gossip, Miss Breezy -removed her coat,--one of those curious garments which seem to be made -especially for elderly spinsters and are worn by them proudly as a -uniform and with the certain knowledge that everybody can see that they -have gone through life in single blessedness, dependent neither for -happiness nor livelihood on a mere man. - -John Breezy, who had lost all suggestion of his French ancestry and -spoke English with the ripest Bayswater, removed his apron. He liked, it -is true, to remember his Huguenot grandfather and from time to time -indulged in Latin gestures, but when he ventured into a few words of -French his accent was atrocious. "Mong Doo," he said, therefore, and -shrugged his fat shoulders almost up to his ears. He had no sympathy -with the Irish. He considered that they were screaming fanatics, -handicapped by a form of diseased egotism and colossal ignorance which -could not be dealt with in any reasonable manner. He belonged to the -school of thought, led by the _Morning Post_, which would dearly like to -put an enormous charge of T. N. T. under the whole island and blow it -sky high. "Of course you buck a good deal about your Fallaray," he said -to his sister, "that's natural. You take his money and you live on his -food. But I think he's a weakling. He's only making things more -difficult. I wish to God I was in the House of Commons. I'd show 'em -what to do to Ireland." - -There was a burst of laughter from Lola who jumped off the table and -threw her arms around her father's neck. "How wonderful you are, Daddy," -she said. "A regular old John Bull!" - -Returning before anything further could be said, Mrs. Breezy shut the -parlor door and made herself extremely comfortable to hear the latest -from behind the scenes. It was very wonderful to possess a sister-in-law -who regularly, once a week, came into that dull backwater with the sort -of thing that never got into the papers and who was able to bandy great -names about without turning a hair. "Now, then, Hannah, let's have it -all from the beginning and please, John, don't interrupt." She would -have liked to have added, "Please, Lola," too, but knew better. - -Then it was that Miss Breezy settled henwise among the cushions on the -sofa and let herself go. It was a good thing for her that her family was -unacquainted with any of those unscrupulous illiterates who wrote the -chit-chat in the _Daily Mirror_. - -"It was last night that I knew about all this," she said. "I went in to -see Lady Feo about engaging a new personal maid. Her great friend was -there,--Mrs. Malwood, who was Lady Glayburgh in the first year of the -War, Lady Pytchley in the second, Mrs. Graham Macoover in the third, -married Mr. Aubrey Malwood in the fourth and still has him on her hands. -I was kept waiting while they finished their talk. Mrs. Malwood had to -hurry home because she was taking part in the theatricals at the -Eastminsters. I heard Lady Feo say that Mr. Fallaray had decided to -throw his bomb in the House this afternoon. She was frightfully excited. -She said she didn't give a damn about the Irish question--and I wish she -didn't speak like that--but that it would be great fun to have a general -election to brighten things up and give her a chance to win some money. -I don't know how Lady Feo knew that her husband had decided to take this -step, because they never meet and I don't believe he ever tells her -anything that he has on his mind. I shouldn't be surprised if she got it -from Mr. Fallaray's secretary. I've seen them whispering in corners -lately and once she starts her tricks on any man, good-by loyalty. My -word, but she's a wonderful woman. A perfect devil but very kind to me. -I've no grumbles. If we do have a general election, and I hope to -goodness we don't, there's only one man to be Prime Minister, and that's -Mr. Fallaray. But there's no chance of it. All the Prime Minister's -newspapers are against him, and all his jackals, and he has more enemies -than any man in the Cabinet, and not a soul to back him up. Office means -too much to them all and they're all in terror of being defeated in the -country. He's the loneliest man in the whole of London and one of the -greatest. That's what I say. I've been with the family ten years and -there are things I like about Lady Feo, for all her rottenness. But I -know this. If she'd been a good wife to that man and had given him a -home to come back to and the love that he needs and two or three -children to romp with even for half an hour a day, there'd be a very -much better chance for England in this mess than there is at present." - -Stopping for breath, she looked up and caught the eyes of the girl whose -face had flushed at the sight of the picture on the cover of the -magazine. They were filled with something that startled her, something -in which there was so great a passion that it threw a hot dart at her -spinsterhood and left her rattled and confused. - - - -IV - - -Miss Breezy was to receive another shock that evening. - -It happened that several neighbors came in unexpectedly and stayed to -play cards. It was necessary, therefore, to adjourn from the cosy little -parlor behind the shop and go up to the drawing-room on the second -floor,--a stiff uncomfortable room used only on Sundays and when the -family definitely entertained. It smelt of furniture polish, cake and -antimacassars. Lola had no patience with cards and helped her mother to -make coffee and sandwiches. Miss Breezy, who clung to certain old -shibboleths with the pathetic persistence of a limpet, regarded a pack -of cards as the instrument of the devil. Besides, she resented the -intrusion of every one who put her out of the limelight. Her weekly orgy -of talk emptied the cistern of her brain. - -She suspected something out of the way when Lola suddenly jumped on the -sofa like an Angora kitten, snuggled up and began to purr at her side, -saying how nice it was to see her, how terribly they would miss her -visits, and how well-informed she was. The little head pressed against -her bosom was not uncomforting to the childless woman. The warm arm -clasped about her shoulder flattered her vanity. But this display of -affection was unusual. It drew from her a rather shrewd question. "Well, -my dear, and what do you want to get out of me? I know you. This is -cupboard love." - -She won a gleam of teeth and a twinkle of congratulation from those -wide-apart eyes. "How clever you are, Auntie. But it isn't cupboard -love, at least not quite. I want to consult you about my future because -you're so sensible and wise." - -"Your future.--Your future is to get married and have babies. That was -marked out for you before you began to talk. I never saw such a -collection of dolls in a little girl's room in all my life. A born -mother, my dear, that's what you are. I hope to goodness you have the -luck to find the right sort of man in your own walk of life." - -Lola shook her head and snuggled a little closer, putting her lips to -the spinster's ear. "There's plenty of time for that," she said. "And, -anyway, the right man for me won't be in my own walk of life, as you -call it." - -"What! Why not?" - -"Because I want to better myself, as you once said that every girl -should do. I haven't forgotten. I remember everything that _you_ say, -Auntie." - -"Oh, you do, do you? Well, go on with it." What a pretty thing she was -with her fine skin and red lips and disconcerting nostrils. Clever as a -monkey, too, my word. Amazing that Ellen should be her mother! - -"And so I want to get away from Queen's Road, if I can. I want to take a -peep, just a peep for a little while into another world and learn how to -talk and think and hold myself. Other girls like me have become ladies -when they had the chance. I can't, I _know_ I can't, become a teacher as -Mother says I must. You know that, too, when you think about me. I -should teach the children everything they ought not to know, for one -thing, you know I should, and throw it all up in a week. I overheard you -say that to Mother the very last time you were here." - -"My dear, your ears are too long. But you're right all the same. I can't -see _you_ in a school for the shabby genteel." A warm fierce kiss was -pressed suddenly to her lips. "But what can I do to help you out? I -don't know." - -"But I do, Auntie. You're trying to find a personal maid for Lady Feo. -Engage me. I may work up to become a housekeeper like you some day even. -Who knows?" - -So that was it.--Good heavens! - -Miss Breezy unfolded herself from the girl's embrace and sat with her -back as stiff as a ramrod. "I couldn't think of such a thing," she said. -"You don't belong to the class that ladies' maids come from, nor does -your mother. A funny way to better yourself, that, I must say. Don't -mention it again, please." She got up and shook herself as though to -cast away both the girl's spell and her absurd request. Her -sister-in-law, after a long day's work, was impatient for bed and -yawning in a way which she hoped would convey a hint to her husband's -friends. She had already wound up the clock on the mantelpiece with -extreme deliberation. "I think my cab must be here," said Miss Breezy -loudly, in order to help her. "I ordered him to fetch me. Don't trouble -to come down but do take the trouble to find out what's the matter with -Lola. She's been reading too many novels or seeing too many moving -pictures. I don't know which it is." - -To Mrs. Breezy's entire satisfaction, her sister-in-law's departure -broke up the party. There was always a new day to face and she needed -her eight hours' rest. Mr. Preedy, the butcher whose inflated body bore -a ludicrous resemblance to a punch ball and who smelt strongly of meat -fat, his hard-bosomed spouse and Ernest Treadwell, the young man from -the library who would have sold his soul for Lola, followed her down the -narrow staircase. But it was Lola who got the last word. She stood on -the step of the cab and put a soft hand against Miss Breezy's cheek. "Do -this for me, Auntie," she wheedled. "Please, please. If you don't----" - -"Well?" - -"There are other great ladies and very few ladies' maids, and if I go to -one of them, how will you be able to keep your eye on me,--and you ought -to keep your eye on me, you know." - -"Well!" said Miss Breezy to herself, as the cab rattled home. "Did you -ever? What an extraordinary child! Nothing of John about her and just as -little of Ellen. Where does she get these strange things from?" It was -not until she arrived finally at Dover Street that she added two words -to her attempted diagnosis which came in the nature of an inspiration. -"_She's French!_" - - - -V - - -It was a lukewarm night, without wind and without moon, starless. -Excited at having got in her request, which she knew from a close study -of her aunt's character was bound to be refused and after a process of -flattery eventually conceded, Lola waved her hand to the Preedys and -graciously consented to give a few minutes to Ernest Treadwell. The -butcher and his wife, after a lifetime of intimacy with animals, had -both taken on a marked resemblance to sheep. They walked away in the -direction of their large and prosperous corner shop with wide-apart legs -and short quick steps, as though expecting to be rounded up by a bored -but conscientious dog. As she leaned against the private door of her -father's shop, with the light of the lamp-post on hair that was the -color of buttercups, she did look French. If Miss Breezy were to take -the trouble to read a well-known book of memoirs published during the -reign of Louis XIV, it would dawn upon her that the little Lola of -Queen's Road, Bayswater, daughter of the cockney watchmaker and Ellen -who came from a flat market garden in Middlesex, threw back to a certain -Madame de Breze, the famous courtesan. Whether her respect for her -brother would become less or grow greater for this discovery it is not -easy to say. Probably, being a snob, it would increase. - -"Don't stand there without a hat, Lola dear. You may catch cold." - -"Mother always says that," said Lola, "even in the middle of the summer, -but she won't call again for ten minutes, so let's steal a little chat." -She put her hand on Treadwell's shoulder with a butterfly touch and held -him rooted and grateful. He had the pale skin that goes with red hair as -well as the pale eyes, but as he looked at this girl of whom he dreamed -by day and night, they flared as they had flared when he had seen her -first as a little girl with her hair in a queue at the other end of a -classroom. He stood with his foot on the step and his hands clasped -together, inarticulate. Behind his utter commonplaceness there was the -soul of Romeo, the passion of self-sacrifice that goes with great -lovers. He had been too young for gun fodder in the war but he had -served in spirit for Lola's sake and had performed a useful job in the -capacity of a boy scout messenger in the War Office. His bony knees and -awkward body had been the joke of many a ribald subaltern, mud-stained -from the trenches. - -"What are you doing on Saturday afternoon?" asked Lola. "Shall we walk -to Hampton Court and see the crocuses? They're all up now like little -soldiers in a pantomime." - -"I'll call for you at two o'clock," answered the boy, thrilling as -though he had been decorated. "We'll have tea there and come back on top -of a bus. I suppose your mother wouldn't let me take you to the theater? -There's a great piece at the Hammersmith,--Henry Ainley. He's fine." - -Lola laughed softly. "Mother's a dear," she said. "She lets me do -everything I want to do after I've told her that I'm simply going to do -it. Besides, she likes you." - -"Do _you_ like me, Lola?" The question came before the boy could be -seized with his usual timidity. It was followed by a rush of blood to -the head. - -The girl's answer proved her possession of great kindness and an amazing -lack of coquetry. "You are one of my oldest friends, Ernest," she -replied, thereby giving the boy something to hope for but absolutely -nothing to grasp. He had never dared to go so far as this before and -like all the other boys who hung round Lola had never been able, by any -of his crude efforts, to get her to flirt. Friend was the only word that -any of them could apply to her. And yet even the least precocious of -these boys was convinced of the fact that she was not innocent of her -power. - -"I love the spring,--just smell it in the air," said Lola, going off at -a tangent, "but I shall never live in the country--I mean all the time. -I shall go there and see things grow and get all the scent and the -whispers and the music of the stars and then rush back to town. Do you -believe in reincarnation, Ernest? I do. I was a canary once and lived in -a cage, a big golden cage, full of seeds and water and little bells that -jingled. It stood on the table in a room filled with tapestry and lovely -old furniture. Servants in livery gave me a saucer for a bath and -refilled my seed pans.--I feel like a canary now sometimes. I like to -fly out, perfectly tame, and with no cats about, sing a little and -imagine that I am perfectly free, and then flick back, stand on a perch -and do my best singing to the noise of traffic." And she laughed again -and added, "What rot we talk when we're young, don't we? I must go." - -"No, not yet. Please not yet." And the boy put his hands out to touch -her and was afraid. He would gladly have died then and there in that -street just to be allowed to kiss her lips. - -"It's late. I must go, Ernest. I have to get up so awfully early. I hate -getting up early. I would like breakfast in bed and a nice maid to bring -me my letters and the papers. Besides, I don't want to worry Mother. She -has all the worries of the shop. Good night and don't be late on -Saturday." She held out her hand. - -The boy seized it and held it tight, his brain reeling, and his blood on -fire. He stood for an instant unable to give expression to the romance -that she stirred in him, with his mouth open and his rather faulty teeth -showing, and his big awkward nose very white. And when she had gone and -the door of her castle was closed, the poor knight, who had none of the -effrontery of the troubadour, paced up and down for an hour in front of -the shop, saying half aloud all the things from Shakespeare which alone -seemed fit for the ears of that princess,--princess of Queen's Road, -Bayswater! - - - -VI - - -The room at the back of the house in which Lola had been installed since -she had been old enough to sleep alone had been her parents' bedroom and -was larger than the one to which they had retired. While Breezy had -argued that he damned well didn't intend to turn out for that kid, Mrs. -Breezy had moved the furniture. The best room only was good enough for -Lola. The window gave a sordid view of back yards filled with packing -cases, washing, empty bottles and one or two anaemic laburnum trees -which for a few days once a year burst into a sort of golden smile and -then became sullen again,--observation posts for the most corrupt of -animals, the London cat. It was in this room that Mrs. Breezy, -trespassing sometimes, stood for a few moments lost in amazement, -feeling more than ever the changeling sense that she did her best to -forget. - -With the money that she had saved up--birthday money, Christmas money -and a small allowance made to her by her father--Lola had bought a rank -imitation of an old four-poster bed made probably in Birmingham. Over it -she had hung a canopy of chintz with a tapestry pattern on a black -background, copied from an illustration in the life of Du Barry. From -time to time pillows with lace covers had been added to the luxurious -pile, a little footstool placed at the side of the bed and--the latest -acquisition--an eiderdown now lent an air of swollen pomp to the whole -thing, which, to the puzzled and concerned mother, was immoral. Hers was -one of those still existing minds which read immorality into all -attempts to break away from her own strict set of conventions, -especially when it was in the direction of beautifying a bed, to her, of -course, an unmentionable thing. In America, without doubt, she would be -a cherished and respected member of the Board of Motion Picture Censors, -as well as--having a cellar--a militant prohibitionist. - -For the rest, the room possessed a sofa which was an English cousin to -an Italian day bed and curtains of china silk in which there was a faint -tinge of pink. A small table on which there was a collection of dainty -things for writing, mementos of many Christmases and several lines of -shelves crammed with books gave the room something of the appearance of -a boudoir, and this was added to by half a dozen cheap French prints -framed in gold which looked rather well against a wall paper of tiny -bouquets tied up with blue ribbon. Lola's collection of books had -frequently sent John Breezy into gusts of mirth. There was nothing among -them that he could read. Very few of them were in English and those were -of French history. The rest were the lives and memoirs of famous -courtesans, including those of the Madame de Breze, to whom the -watchmaker always referred with a mixture of pride and levity,--but not -when his wife was in hearing. A bulky French dictionary, old and -dog-eared, stood in solitude upon the writing table. - -It was to this room that Lola withdrew as often as possible to cut -herself off from every suggestion of Queen's Road, Bayswater, and the -shop below, and to forget her daily journeys to and from the Polytechnic -where she was supposed to be taking a commercial course in bookkeeping -and shorthand with a view either to going into an office or becoming a -teacher in one of the many small schools which endeavored to keep their -heads up in and about that portion of London. - -The game of make-believe, which the dramatist who followed Lola from -Hyde Park corner that afternoon had watched her play, had been carried -on in this bed-sitting room ever since she had fallen under the spell of -the de Breze memoirs. It was here, especially on Sunday mornings, that -this young thing let her imagination have full play while her father and -mother, dressed in their Sabbath best, attended the Methodist Church -near-by. Then, playing the part of her celebrated ancestress, she put on -a little lace cap and a _peignoir_ over her nightgown and sat up in bed -to receive the imaginary friends, admirers and sycophants who came to -her with the latest gossip, with rare and beautiful gifts and with the -flattery of their kind, which, while it pleased her very much, failed to -turn her head, because, after all, she had inherited much of her -mother's shrewdness. With her door locked, her nose powdered and her -lips the color of a cherry, Lola conducted, for her own amusement, a -brilliant series of monologues which, if given on the stage in a setting -a little more elaborate, would have set all London laughing. - -The girl's mimicry of the people whom she brought to life from the pages -of those French books was perfectly delightful. She brought her master -to life. With a keen sense of characterization she built him -up--unconsciously assisted by Aunt Hannah--into as close a resemblance -to Fallaray as she could,--a tired, world-worn man, starving for love -and adoration, weighed down by the problems of a civilization in chaos, -distrait and sometimes almost brusque, but always chivalrous and kind, -who came to her for refreshment and inspiration and left her with a -lighter tread and renewed optimism. Ancient dames whose days were over -came to her with envy in their hearts and the hope of charity in their -withered souls to tell her of their triumphs and the scandals of their -time. But the character upon whom she concentrated all her humor and -sarcasm was the friend of her master, an unscrupulous person who loved -her and never could resist the opportunity of pressing his suit in -flowery but passionate terms and with an accent which, elaborately -Parisian, was reproduced from that of the French journalist who had -taught Lola his language in a class that she had attended for several -years. These word fencings had begun, of course, as a child would -naturally have begun them, with the stilted sentences and high-flown -remarks which she had lifted from Grimm's Fairy Tales. They had become -more and more sophisticated as the years had passed and were now full of -subtleties and insinuations against which, egging the man on, Lola -defended herself with what she took to be great wit and cleverness. - -If her little mother had ever gone so far as to put her ear to the -keyhole of that bedroom, she would have listened to something which -would probably have sent her to a doctor to consult him as to her -daughter's mental condition. She would have heard, for instance, the -well-modulated voice of that practised lovemaker and the laughing -high-pitched replies of a girl not unpleased with his attentions but -adamant to his pleadings and perfectly sure of herself. It is true that -Mrs. Breezy would not have understood one word that was spoken because -it was all in French, but the mere act of conducting long conversations -with imaginary characters as a hobby would have struck deep at her sense -of the fitness of things, especially as Sunday was the day chosen for -such a game. The Methodist mind is strangely inelastic. - -What would have been said to all this by a disciple of Freud it is easy -to conceive. He would have read into it the existence of a complex -proving a suppressed desire which must have landed Lola in a lunatic -asylum. Common sense and a rudimentary knowledge of heredity might, -however, have given to the mother and the psychoanalyst the key to all -this. The fact was that Lola threw back to her French ancestress who, -like herself, was the daughter of humble, honest people, and the glamor -of the de Breze memoirs had not only caught and colored her imagination, -which was her strongest trait, but had shown her how to exploit the gift -of sex appeal in a way that would make her essential to a man who had it -in him to become a great political figure, the only way in which she, -like the de Breze, could be placed in a golden cage with all the -luxuries, share in the secrets of government, meet the men who counted, -bask in the reflected glory of power, and give in return so -whole-hearted a love, devotion, encouragement and refreshment that her -"master" would go out to the affairs of his country grateful and -humanized. She could not, of course, ever hope to achieve this ambition -by marriage. No such man would marry the daughter of a watchmaker. It -was that the spirit of this woman lived again in the Breezys' little -daughter; that in her there had been revived the same desire to force a -place for herself in a world to which she had not been born, and that -she had been endowed with the same feminine qualities that were -necessary to such a scheme. In the knowledge of this and pinning her -faith to a similar cause--the word was hers--Lola Breezy had gone -through those curious years of double life more and more determined to -perform this kind of courtesanship, believing that she had inherited the -voice with which to sing the little songs of a canary in the secret cage -of no less a man than one of proved ability and idealism, who was within -an ace of premiership, and--so that her vanity might be satisfied in the -proof of her own ability to help him--against whom was pitted all that -was mean, ignorant, jealous and reactionary in a bad political system. - -What more natural, therefore, than that the man who fulfilled all these -requirements and whom she would give her life to serve was Fallaray. He -had been brought home to her every Thursday evening by her aunt for ten -years. She had read in the papers every word that he had spoken; had -followed his course of action through all the years of the War which he -had done his best to prevent; had watched his lonely struggle to -substantiate a League of Nations free from blood lust and territorial -greed; had seen him pelted with lies and calumny when he had cried out -that Germany must be allowed to live if Europe were to live; and that -very day had stood trembling in front of the billboard which announced -that he would not stand for the bloody and disastrous reprisals in -Ireland that were backed by the Prime Minister. He was the one honest -man, the one idealist in English politics; the one great humanitarian -who possessed that strength and fairness of mind which permitted him to -see both sides of a question; to belong to a party without being a slave -to its shibboleths; to commit the sudden volt-faces so impossible to -brass hats and to the Junkers of all nationality; the one man in the -House of Commons who didn't give a damn for limelight, -self-aggrandizement, titles, graft and all the rest of the things which -have been brought into that low and unclean business by men who would -sell the country for a drink. And above all he was unhappy with his -wife. - -The housekeeper aunt had built up for this girl a hero who fitted -exactly into the niche in her heart and ambitions. All the stories and -backstairs gossip about him had excited her desire to become a second -Madame de Breze in his life and bring the rustle of silk to this Eveless -man. Never once did there enter into her game of make-believe or her -dreams of achievement the idea of becoming Fallaray's wife, even if, at -any time, he should be free to marry again. She had too keen a sense of -psychology for that. She saw the need to Fallaray, as to other such men -in his position, of a secret romance,--stolen meetings, brief escapes, -entrancing interludes, and the desire--the paradox of asceticism--for -feminine charms. She had read the story of Parnell and understood it; of -Nelson and sympathized with it. She knew the history of other men of -absorbing patriotism and great intellect who had kept their optimism and -their humanity because of a woman's tenderness and flattery, and -whenever she looked at the picture of Fallaray, in whom she recognized a -modern Quixote tilting at windmills, she saw that he stood in urgent -need of a woman who could do for him what Madame de Breze had done for -that minister of Louis XIV. During all her intelligent years, therefore, -she had conducted herself in the hope, vague and futile as it seemed, of -some day being discovered to Fallaray, and in her heart there had grown -up a love and a hero worship so strong and so passionate that it could -never be transferred to any other man. - -The reason, then, why Lola had turned the whole force of her -concentration upon entering the house in Dover Street as lady's maid -becomes clear. Here, suddenly, was her chance. Once in this house, in -attendance upon Lady Feo, it would be possible for her not only to learn -the manners and the language of the only women who were known to -Fallaray, but eventually, with luck and strategy, to exercise her gift, -as she called it, upon Fallaray himself. What did she care whether, as -her aunt had said, she went down a peg in the social scale by becoming a -lady's maid? She would willingly become a crossing sweeper or a beggar -girl. - -If it were true that Fallaray never went into the side of the house that -was occupied by his wife, then she would eventually, when she felt that -her apprenticeship had been served, slip into the other side. Like all -women she had cunning and like very few courage. Opportunity comes to -those who make it and she was ready and eager to undergo any humiliation -to try herself, so to speak, on Fallaray. Ernest Treadwell loved her and -would, she knew, die for her willingly. There was the hero stuff in him. -Other boys, too numerous to mention, would go through fire and water for -her kisses. Life was punctuated with turned heads, sudden flashes of eye -and everyday attempts to win her favor. Once in that house in Dover -Street---- - - - -VII - - -Saturday came. Ernest Treadwell arrived early, his face shining with -Windsor soap. He had bought a spring tie at Hope Brothers, the name and -the season going well with his mood. It was a ghastly affair,--yellow -with blobs of red. It was indeed much more suited to Mr. Prouty, the -butcher. It illustrated something at which he frequently looked,--animal -blood on a sawdust floor. But Ernest Treadwell was one of those men who -could always be persuaded into wearing anything that was offered to him. -He was a dreamer, the stuff that poets are made of, impractical, -embarrassed. He went about with his young and incoherent brain seething -with the tail end of big thoughts. If he had not been watched by a fond -mother, he would probably have left the house with his trousers around -his neck and his legs thrust through the sleeves of his coat. He walked -up and down the street for half an hour with his cap on the back of his -head and a tuft of hair sticking out in front of it,--an earnest, -ungainly, intelligent, heroic person who might one day become a second -Wells and write a Joan and Peter about the children of Joan and Peter. - -Saturday was a good day for the Breezys and much of Friday night had -been spent cleaning and rearranging the cheap and alluring -silverware--birthday presents, wedding presents, lovers' presents--which -invariably filled the windows. Twice Lola had looked down and watched -her young friend as he marched up and down beneath, with an ecstatic -smile on his face. It was after her second look that she made up her -mind to desert the crocuses in Hampton Court and make that boy escort -her to Dover Street. Acting under a sudden inspiration she determined to -go and see her aunt. She knew perfectly well that Miss Breezy had had -time to think over the point which had been suggested to her and was by -now probably quite ready to accept it. That was the woman's character. -She began by saying no to everything and ended, of course, by saying yes -to most of them, and the more emphatic she was in the beginning the more -easily she caved in finally. After all, she was very fond of her niece -and would welcome the opportunity of having the girl's company at night -and during the hours when Lady Feo was out. Lola knew all that and her -entrance into Dover Street had become an obsession, a fixed idea, and if -her aunt should develop a hitherto undemonstrated stiff back,--well then -her hand must be forced, that's all, either by hook or by crook. Dressed -as simply as usual but wearing her Sunday hat, Lola passed through the -shop, dropped a kiss on her father's head, twiddled her fingers at her -mother, who was "getting off" a perfectly hideous vase stuck into a -filigree silver support and must not, therefore, be interrupted in her -diplomatic flow of persuasion. She was met at the door by Ernest -Treadwell, who sheepishly removed his cap. He would have given ten years -of his life to have been able to doff it in the manner of Sir Walter -Raleigh and utter a string of highly polished phrases suitable to that -epoch-making occasion. Instead of which he said, "'Ello," and dropped -his "h" at her feet. - -Queen's Road wore its usual Saturday afternoon appearance and its narrow -pavement was filled with people shopping for Sunday,--the tide of -semi-society clashing with that of mere respectability. "Hampton -Court'll look great to-day," said Ernest, who felt that with the -assistance of the crocuses he might be able to stammer a few words of -love and admiration. - -Lola glanced up at the clear sky and the April sun which was in a very -kindly mood. "I'm sure it will," she said, "but I'm afraid I've got a -disappointment for Ernie. I want you to be a dear and take me to see my -aunt in Dover Street. It's--it's awfully important." - -The boy's eyes flicked and a curious whiteness settled about his nose. -But he played the knight. "Whatever you say, Lola," he said, and forced -himself to smile. Poor boy, it was a sad blow. He had gone to bed the -night before, dreaming of this little adventure. It would have been the -first time that he had ever spent an afternoon and evening alone with -the girl who occupied the throne of his heart. - -Lola knew this. She could see the whole story behind the boy's smile. So -she took his arm to compensate him,--knowing how well it would. "There -are crocuses in Kensington Garden," she said. "We'll have a look at -those as we pass." - -Every head that turned and every eye that flared made Ernest Treadwell -swell with pride as well as resentment. A policeman held up the traffic -for Lola at the top of the road and one of the keepers of the Gardens, -an old soldier, saluted her as she went through the gates. She rewarded -these attentions with what she called her best de Breze smile. Some day -other and vastly more important men should gladly show her deference. -They followed the broad path which led to Marble Arch, raising their -voices in order to overcome the incessant roar of traffic in the -Bayswater Road. Lola did most of the talking that afternoon and it was -all inspirational, to fire the boy into greater ambition and effort. She -had read some of his poetry,--strange stuff that showed the influence of -Masefield, crude and half-baked but not untouched with imagery. She -believed in Ernest Treadwell and took a very real delight in his -improvement. But for her encouragement it might have been some years -before he broke out of hobble-de-hoydom and the semi-vicious ineptitude -that goes with it. He was very happy as he went along with the warm hand -on his arm. His vanity glowed under her friendship, as she intended that -it should. - -The old Gardens were green and fresh, gay with new leaves and daffodils. -Only the presence of smashed men made it look different from the good -days before the War. Would all those children who played under the eyes -of mothers and nurses be laid presently in sacrifice upon the altars of -the old Bad Men of politics who had done nothing to avert the recent -cataclysm? - -Lola was excited and on her mettle. She was nearing the crossroads. On -the one that she had marked out stood Fallaray,--the merest speck. -Success with Aunt Hannah meant the first rung of her ladder. Oxford -Street was like a once smart woman who had become _declasse_. It seemed -to be competing with High Street, Putney. There was something -pathetically blatant in the shop window arrangements, a strained effort -to catch what little money was left to the public after the struggle to -make both ends meet and pay the overwhelming taxation. The two young -people were unconscious of the change. Lola babbled incessantly. Among -other things she said, "I suppose you're a socialist, aren't you, -Ernest? You've never discussed it with me, but I think you must be -because you write poetry, and somehow all poets seem to be socialists. I -suppose it's because poetry's so badly paid." - -"I dunno about that. I've never tried to sell my stuff. I'm against -everything and everybody, if that's what you mean. But I don't know -whether it's true to call it Socialism. There's a new word for it which -suits me,--intelligensia. I don't think that's the way to pronounce it -but it's near enough. It's in all the weekly papers now and stands for -anarchy with hair oil on the bombs. Why do you ask me?" - -Lola still had her hand on his arm. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to give -you a shock soon. I'm going to be a servant." - -"Good God," said Ernest. His grandfather had been a valet, his father a -piano tuner, he himself had risen to the heights of assistant librarian -in a public library, and if his ambition to become a Labor member ever -was realized he might very easily wind up as a peer. His children would -then belong to the new aristocracy with Lola as Lady Treadwell. He -gasped under the blow. "What will your mother say?" - -"I'm afraid Mother will hang her head in shame until she gets my angle -of it. Luckily I can always point to Aunt. She's a housekeeper, you see, -and after all that's only a sort of upper servant, isn't it?" - -"But,--what's the idea?" - -This was not a question to which Lola had any intention of giving an -answer. It was a perfectly private affair. She went off at one of her -inevitable tangents so useful in order to dodge issues. She pointed to -an enormous Rolls-Royce which stood outside Selfridge's. On the panel -was painted a coat of arms as big as a soup tureen. She held Ernest back -to watch the peculiar people who descended from it,--the man small and -fat, with bandy legs and a great moustache waxed into points; the woman -bulbous and wobbly, cluttered up with diamonds, made pathetic by a skirt -that was almost up to her knees. What an excellent thing the War had -been for them. - -"New rich," said Lola. "I saw them the other day coming out of a house -at the top of Park Lane which Father told me used to belong to a Duke. -Good Lord, why shouldn't I be a servant without causing a crack in the -constitution of the country?" - -Fundamentally snobbish as all socialists are, the boy shook his head. -"You should lead, not serve," he said, quoting from one of his masters. -And that was all he could manage. Lola,--a servant! They turned into -Bond Street in which all the suburban ladies who were not enjoying the -matinees were gluing their noses to the shop windows. Ernest Treadwell -was unfamiliar with this part of London. He preferred the democratic -Strand when he could get away from his duties. He felt more and more -sheepish and self-conscious as Lola drew up instinctively at every shop -in which corsets were displayed and diaphanous underwear spread out. The -silk stockings on extremely well-shaped wooden legs she admired -extremely and desired above all things. The bootmakers' shops also came -in for her close attention. The little French shoes with high vamps and -stubby noses drew exclamations of delight and envy. Several spots on the -window of Aspray's bore the impression of her nose before she could tear -herself away. A set of dressing-table things made of gold and -tortoiseshell made her eyes widen and her lips part. Ernest Treadwell -would willingly have sacrificed all his half-baked socialism to be able -to buy any one of those things for Lola. - -Finally they came to Dover Street, that oasis in the heart of Mayfair -where even yet certain houses remain untouched by the hand of trade. The -Fallaray house was on the sunny side, where it stood gloomily with -frowning windows and an uninviting door. It was the oldest house in the -street and wore its octogenarian appearance without camouflage. It had -belonged originally to the Throgmorton family upon whom Fate had laid a -hoodoo. The last of the line was glad to sell it to Fallaray's -grandfather, the cotton man. What he would have said if he could have -returned to his old haunts, opened his door with his latch key and -walked in to find Lady Feo and her gang God only knows. - -It was well known to Lola. Many times she had walked up and down Dover -Street in order to gaze at the windows behind which she thought that -Fallaray might be sitting, and several times she had been into her -aunt's rooms which overlooked the narrow yards of Bond Street. - -"Wait for me here, Ernest," she said. "I don't think I shall be very -long. If I'm more than half an hour, give me up and we'll have another -afternoon later on." - -She waved her hand, went down the area steps and rang the bell. Ernest -Treadwell, to whom the house had taken on a sinister appearance, sloped -off with rounded shoulders and a tight mouth. They might have been in -Hampton Court looking at the crocuses.--Lola,--a servant. Good God! - - - -VIII - - -Albert Simpkins opened the door. - -It wasn't his job to open doors, because he was a valet. But it so -happened that he was the only person in the servants' quarters who was -not either dressing, lying down after a heavy lunch or out to enjoy an -hour's fresh air. - -"Miss Breezy, please," said Lola. - -Simpkins gasped. If he had been passing through the hall and a footman -had opened the front door to this girl he would have slipped into a dark -corner to watch her enter, believing that she had come to visit Lady -Feo. He knew a thoroughbred when he saw one. That she should have come -to the area of all places seemed to him to be irregular, not in -conformity with the rules of social rectitude which were his religion. -All the same he thrilled, and like every other man who caught sight of -Lola and stood near enough to catch the indefinable scent of her hair, -stumbled over his words. - -Lola repeated her remark and gave him a vivid friendly smile. If she -carried her point with her aunt presently, this man would certainly be -useful. "If you will please come in," said Simpkins, "I'll go and see if -Miss Breezy's upstairs. What name shall I say?" - -"Lola Breezy." - -"Miss Lola Breezy. Thank you." He paused for a moment to bask, and then -with a little bow in which he acknowledged her irresistible and -astonishing effect, disappeared,--valet stamped upon his respectability -like a Cunard label on a suit case. - -Lola chuckled and remained standing in the middle of what was used by -the servants as a sitting room. How easy it was, with her gift, to -shatter men's few senses. She knew the place well,--its pictures of -Queen Victoria and of famous race horses cut from illustrated papers -cheaply framed and its snapshots of the gardens of Chilton Park, -Whitecross, Bucks. Discarded books of all sorts were piled up on various -tables. _The Spectator_ and _The New Statesman_, Massingham's peevish -weekly, _Punch_, _The Sketch_ and _The Tatler_, _Eve_ and the -_Bystander_, which had come downstairs from the higher regions, were -scattered here and there. They had been read and commented upon first by -the butler and then downwards through all the gradations of servants to -the girl who played galley slave to the cook. Lola wondered how long it -would be before she also would be spending her spare time in that room, -hobnobbing with the various members of the family below stairs. A few -days, perhaps, not more,--now that she had fastened on this plan. - -Simpkins returned almost immediately. "If you will follow me," he said, -and gave her an alluring smile which disclosed a row of teeth that were -peculiarly English. He led the way along a narrow passage up the back -staircase and out upon a wide and imposing corridor, hung with Flemish -tapestry and old portraits, which appealed to Lola's sense of the -decorative and sent her head up with a tilt of proprietorship. This was -her atmosphere. This was the corridor along which her imaginary -sycophants had passed so often to her room in Queen's Road, Bayswater. -"We're not supposed to go through here," said Simpkins, eager to talk, -"except on duty. But it's a short cut to the housekeeper's quarters and -there's no one in to catch us. You look well against that hanging," he -added. "Like a picture in the Academy,"--which to him was the Temple of -Art. - -A door opened and there were heavy footsteps. - -"Look out. The governor." He seized Lola's arm and in a panic drew her -into the shadow of a large armoire. - -Her heart jumped into her mouth!--It was her hero in the flesh, the man -at whose feet she had worshipped,--within a few inches of her, walking -slowly, with his hands behind his back, his mouth compressed and a sort -of hit-me-why-don't-you in his eye. Still with Simpkins's hand upon her -arm she slipped out,--not to be seen, not with any thought of herself, -but to watch Fallaray stride along the corridor; and get the wonder of a -first look. - -A door banged and he was gone. - -"A pretty near thing," said Simpkins. "It always happens like that. I -don't suppose he would have noticed us. Mostly he sees nothing but his -thoughts,--looks inwards, I mean. But rules is rules. He lives in that -wing of the 'ouse,--has a library and a bedroom there and another room -fitted up as a gym where he goes through exercises to keep hisself fit. -Give 'im enough in the House to keep 'im fit, you'd think, wouldn't yer? -A wonderful man.--Come on, Miss, nick through here." He opened a door, -ran lightly up a short flight of stairs and came back again into the -servant's passage. "'Ere you are," he said and smiled brilliantly, -putting in, as he thought, good work. This girl----! "I'll be glad to -see you 'ome," he added anxiously. - -Lola said, "Thank you, but I have some one waiting for me," and entered. - - - -IX - - -"Well!" said Miss Breezy. - -"I hope so," said Lola, kissing the ear that was presented to her. - -"I'm just rearranging my things. Her Ladyship's just given me some new -pictures. They used to be in the morning room, but she got sick of them -and handed 'em over to me. I'm going to hang them up." She might have -added that nearly everything that the room contained had been given to -her by Lady Feo with a similar generosity but her sense of humor was not -very keen or else her sense of loyalty was. At any rate, there she stood -in the middle of a nice airy room with something around her head to keep -the dust out of her hair, wearing a pair of gloves, a stepladder near at -hand. - -There were six fair-sized canvases in gold frames,--seascapes; bold, -excellent work, with the wind blowing over them and spray coming out -that made the lips all salty. They made you hear the mewing of sea -gulls. - -"Lady Feo bought them to help a young artist. He was killed in the War. -She hates the sea, it makes her sick, and doesn't want to be reminded of -anything sad. I don't wonder, and anyway, they'll look very nice here. -Do you like them?" - -Lola had sized them up in a glance. She too would have turned them out. -They seemed to her rough and draughty. "Yes," she said, "they're very -good, aren't they?" She mounted the ladder and held out her hands. She -had come to ask a favor. She might as well make herself popular at once. -"Hand them up, Auntie, and I'll hang them for you." - -"Oh, well now, that's very nice. I get giddy on a ladder. You came just -at the right moment. Can you manage it? It's very heavy. The first time -I've ever seen you making yourself useful, my dear." - -This enabled Lola to get in her first point. "Mother never allows me to -be useful," she said, "and really doesn't understand the sort of thing -that I can do best." She stretched up, hung the cord over a brass -bracket and straightened it. - -"Well, you can certainly do this job! Go on and do the rest while you're -at it. I was looking forward to a very tiring afternoon. I didn't want -to have any of the maids to help me. They resent being asked to do -anything that is outside their regular duty." - -And so Lola proceeded, hating to get her hands dirty and not very keen -on indulging in athletics, but with a determination made doubly firm by -the fleeting sight of Fallaray. - -Miss Breezy was in an equable mood that afternoon,--less pompous than -usual, less consumed with the importance of being the controlling brain -in the management of the Fallaray "establishment," as she called it in -the stilted language of the auctioneer. She became almost human as she -watched Lola perform the task which would have put her to a considerable -amount of physical inconvenience. When one is relieved of anything in -the nature of work, equability is the cheapest form of gratitude. - -The room was a particularly nice one, large, with a low ceiling and two -windows which overlooked Dover Street. It didn't in the least indicate -the character of the housekeeper because not a single thing in it was -her own except a few books. Everything else had been given to her by -Lady Feo, and like the pictures, had been discarded from one or other of -the rooms below. The Sheraton sofa had come from the drawing-room. A -Dowager Duchess had sat on it one evening after dinner and let herself -go on the question of the Feo gang. It had been thrown out the following -morning. The armoire of ripe oak, made up of old French altarpieces--an -exquisite thing worth its weight in gold--had suffered a similar fate. -Rappe the ubiquitous photographer had taken a picture of Lady Feo -leaning against one of its doors. It turned out badly. In fact, the -angel on the other door looked precisely as though it were growing on -Lady Feo's nose. It might have been good art but it was bad -salesmanship. Away went the armoire. The story of all the other things -was the same so that the room had begun to assume the appearance of the -den of a dealer in old furniture. There were even a couple of old -masters on the walls,--a Reynolds and a Lely, portraits of the members -of Lady Feo's family whose faces she objected to and whose admonishing -eyes she couldn't bear to have upon her when she came down to luncheon -feeling a little chippy after a night out. These also were priceless. It -had become indeed one of the nicest rooms in the house. Every day it -added something to Miss Breezy's increasing air of dignity and -beatitude. - -Lola did not fail to admire the way in which her aunt had arranged her -wonderful presents and used all her arts of flattery before she came -round to the reason of her visit. This she did as soon as Miss Breezy -had prepared tea with something of the ceremony of the Japanese and -arranged herself to be entertained by the child for whose temperament -she had found some excuse by labelling it French. Going cunningly to -work, she began by saying, "What do you think? You remember Mother's -friends, the Proutys, who were playing cards the other night?" - -"Indeed I do," replied Miss Breezy. "Whenever I meet those people it -takes me some time to get over the unpleasant smell of meat fat. What -about them?" - -"Cissie, the daughter, has gone into the chorus of the Gaiety, and is -very happy there. She's going to be in the second row at first, but -she's bound to be noticed, she says, because she has to pose as a statue -in the second act covered all over with white stuff." - -"Nothing else?" - -"No, but it will take an hour to put on every night. And before the end -of the run she'll probably be married at St. Margaret's to an officer in -the Guards, she says. She told me that she couldn't hope to become a -lady in any other way. I was wondering what you would say if I did the -same thing?" - -Miss Breezy almost dropped her cup as Lola knew that she would. "You -don't mean to say you've come to tell me that you've got _that_ fearful -scheme in the back of your head, you alarming child? A chorus girl?" - -Lola laughed. "You know _my_ way of improving myself: to serve an -apprenticeship as a lady's maid, a respectable way,--the way in which -you're going to help me now that you've thought it all over." - -The answer came like the rapping of a machine gun. "I've not thought it -over and what's more, I'm not going to begin to think it over. I told -you so." - -Without turning a hair Lola handed a plate of cakes. "But you wouldn't -like me to follow Cissie's example, would you,--and that's the -alternative." Poor dear old Aunt! What was the use of pretending to be -firm. All the trumps were against her. - -But for once Lola miscalculated her hand and the woman. "If you must -make a fool of yourself," said Miss Breezy, "you must. I'm not your -mother and luckily you can't break my heart. I told you the other night -and I tell you again that I do not intend to be a party to your lowering -yourself by becoming a servant and there's an end of it." And she waved -her disengaged hand. - -It was almost a minute before Lola recovered her breath. She sat back, -then, and put her head on one side. "In that case," she said in a -perfectly even voice, "I must try to get used to the other idea. I think -I might look rather well in tights and Cissie tells me that if I were to -join her at the Gaiety I should be put into a number in which five other -girls will come on in underclothes in a bedroom scene. Of course I -should keep my own name and before long you'd see my photograph in the -_Tatler_ as 'the latest recruit to the footlights,--the -great-great-granddaughter of the famous Madame de Breze.' I should tell -the first reporter that, of course, to make it interesting." - -Miss Breezy rocked to and fro, gripping her cup. How often had she -shuddered at the sight of scantily dressed precocious girls sitting in -alarming attitudes on the shiny paper of the _Tatler_. To think of Lola -in underclothes, debasing a highly respectable name! Nevertheless, "I am -not to be bullied," she said, wobbling like a turkey. "I have always -given way to you before, Lola, but in this case my mind is made up. -Can't you understand how awkward it would be to have you in the house on -a level with servants who have to be kept in order by me? It would -undermine my authority." That was the point, and it was a good one. And -then her starchiness left her under the horror of the alternative. "As -for that other thing,--well, you couldn't go a better way to kill your -poor mother and surely you don't want to do that?" - -"Of course I don't, Auntie." - -"There's no call for you to think about any way of earning a living, -Lola. Your parents don't want to get rid of you, Heaven knows, and even -in these bad times they can get along very nicely and keep you too. You -know that." - -Lola had never dreamed of this adamantine attitude. Her aunt had been so -easy to manage before. What was she to do? - -Thinking that she was winning, Miss Breezy went at it again. "Come, now. -Be a good child and forget both these schemes. Go on with your classes -and it won't be long before a suitable person will turn up and ask you -to marry him. Your type marries young. Now, will you promise me to think -no more about it all?" - -But this was Lola's only chance to enter the first stage of her crusade. -She would fight for it to the last gasp. "The chorus, yes," she said. -"As for the other thing, no, Auntie. If you won't help me I must get the -paper in the morning and search through the advertisements. I'm sure to -come across some one who wants a lady's maid and after all, it won't -very much matter who it is. You see, I want to earn my living, and I -have made up my mind to do it in this way. There's good pay, a beautiful -house to live in, no early trains to catch, no bad weather to go -through, holidays in the country and with any luck foreign travel. I -can't understand why many more girls like me don't go in for this sort -of life. I only thought, of course, it would be so nice to be under your -eye and guidance. Mother would much prefer it to be that way, I'm sure." - -But even this practical argument had no effect except to rouse the good -lady's dander. "You are a very nagging girl," she cried. "I can see -perfectly well what you're driving at but you won't undermine my -decision, I can tell you that. I will not have you in this house and -that's final." - -Lola was beaten. To her astonishment and chagrin she found that her nail -was not to be hammered in. There was steel in the old lady's -composition, after all. But there was steel in her own and she quickly -decided to leave things as they stood and think out another line of -attack before the following Thursday. And then, remembering Ernest -Treadwell, who was living up to his name from one end of the street to -the other and back, she rose to tear herself away with an air of great -patience and affection. Just as she was about to bend down and touch the -usual ear with her lips, the door suddenly swung open and a woman with -bobbed hair, wearing a red velvet tam-o'-shanter and a curious one-piece -garment of brown velvet which disclosed a pair of very admirable legs, -stood smiling in the doorway. Her face was as white as the petals of a -white rose. Her large violet eyes had lashes as black as her eyebrows -and her wanton mouth showed a set of teeth as white and strong as a -negro's. "Oh, hello, Breezy," she cried out, her voice round and -ringing. "Excuse my barging in like this. I want to know what you've -done about the table decorations for to-morrow night." - -Miss Breezy rose hurriedly to her feet, and Lola, although she had never -seen this woman before, followed her example, sensing the fact that here -was the famous Lady Feo. - -"I sent Mr. Biddle round to Lee and Higgins in Bond Street, my lady. You -need have no anxiety about it." - -"That's all right but I've altered my mind. I don't want flowers. I've -bought a set of caricatures and I'm going to put one in front of every -place. If it's too late to cancel the order, telephone to Lee and -Higgins and tell them to send the flowers to any old hospital that -occurs to them." Lady Feo had spotted Lola immediately and during all -this time had never taken her eyes away from the girl's face and figure, -which she looked over with frank and unabashed curiosity and admiration. -With characteristic effrontery she made her examination as thorough as -she would have done if she had been sizing up a horse with a view to -purchase. "Attractive little person," she said to herself. "As dainty as -a piece of Sevres. What the devil's she doing here?" Making conversation -with a view to discover who Lola was, she added aloud, "I see you've -hung the pictures, Breezy.--Breezy and seascapes; they go well together, -don't they?" And she laughed at the little joke,--a gay and boyish -laugh. - -With her heart thumping and a ray of hope in front of her, Lola marked -her appreciation of the joke with her most delighted smile. - -And Miss Breezy indulged in a diplomatic titter. - -"Isn't it a little remiss of you, Breezy, not to introduce me to your -friend?" - -"Oh, I beg your ladyship's pardon, I'm sure. This is my niece Lola." She -wished the child in the middle of next week and dreaded the result of -this most unfortunate interruption. - -Lady Feo stretched out her hand,--a long-fingered able hand, born for -the violin. "How do you do," she said, as though to an equal. "How is it -that I haven't seen you before? Breezy and I are such old friends. I -call her Breezy in that rather abrupt manner--forgive me, won't -you?--because I'm both rude and affectionate. I hope I didn't cut in on -a family consultation?" - -Lola braced herself. Here was her opportunity indeed! "Oh, no, my lady. -It _was_ a sort of consultation, because I came to talk to Aunt about my -future. It's time I earned my own living and as she doesn't want me to -go on the stage, she's going to be kind enough to help me in another -way." She got all this in a little breathlessly, with charming naivete. - -"What way?" asked Lady Feo bluntly. "I should think you'd make a great -success on the stage." - -Lola took no notice of her aunt's angry and frantic signs. She stood -demure and modest under the searching gaze of Lady Feo and with a sense -of extreme triumph took the jump. "The way I most wanted to begin," she -said, "was to be your ladyship's maid. That's my great ambition." - -"And for the love of heaven, why not? Breezy, why the deuce haven't you -told me about this girl? I would like to have her about me. She's -decorative. I wouldn't mind being touched by her and I'm sure she'd look -after my things. Look how neat she is. She might have come out of a -bandbox." - -Miss Breezy bit her lip. She was bitterly annoyed. She was unaware of -the expression but she felt that Lola had double-crossed her,--as indeed -she had. "Well, my lady," she said, "to tell you the truth, I didn't -think that you would care to have two people of the same family in your -house. It always leads to trouble." - -"Oh, rot," said Lady Feo, "I loathe those old shibboleths. They're so -silly." She turned to Lola. "Look here, do you really mean to say that -you'd rather be a lady's maid than kick your heels about in the chorus?" - -"If you please, my lady," said Lola. - -"Well, I think you'll miss a lot of fun, but as far as I'm concerned, -you're an absolute Godsend. The girl I've had for two years is going to -be married. Of course, I can't stop that, as much as I shall miss her. -The earth needs repeopling, so I must let her go. The question has been -where to get another. With all the unemployment no one seems very keen -on doing anything but work in factories. I'd love to have you. Come by -all means. Breezy, engage her. I hope we shall rub along very nicely -together." - -As much to hide the gleam in her eyes from her aunt as to show deference -to her new mistress, Lola bowed. "I thank you, my lady," she said. - -"Fine," said Lady Feo, "fine. That's great. Saves me a world of trouble. -Pretty lucky thing that I looked in here, wasn't it?" She went to the -door and turned. "When can you come, Lola?" - -"To-morrow.--To-night." - -"To-night. I will let Emily off at once. She'll be glad enough. I'll -send you home in the car. You can pack your things and get back in time -to brush my hair. I suppose you know something about your job?" - -Miss Breezy broke in hurriedly. Even now perhaps it might not be too -late to beat this girl at her own game. "That's it, my lady," she said, -tumbling over her words. "She doesn't know anything about it. I'm afraid -I ought to say----" - -"Oh, well, Breezy, that's nothing new. They none of 'em know anything. -I'll teach her. I don't want a sham expert with her nose in the air. All -I need is a girl with quick fingers, nippy on her feet, good to look at, -who will laugh at my jokes. You promise to do that, Lola?" - -A most delicious smile curled all about Lola's mouth. "I promise, my -lady," she said. - -Lady Feo nodded at her. "She'll make a sensation," she thought. "How -jealous they'll all be.--Righto, then. Seven o'clock. Don't be late. So -long." And off she went, slamming the door behind her. - -"You little devil," said Miss Breezy, her dignity in great slabs at her -feet. - -But Lola had won. And the amazing part of it was that the door of the -house in Dover Street had been opened to her by Fallaray's wife. - - - - -PART II - - - -I - - -Mrs. Malwood was hipped. She had been losing heavily at bridge, her -Pomeranian had been run over in Berkeley Square and taken to the dog's -hospital, her most recent flame had just been married to his colonel's -daughter, and her fourth husband was still alive. Poor little soul, she -had lots to grumble about. So she had come round to be cheered up by Feo -Fallaray who always managed to laugh through deaths and epidemics to -find her friend in the first stages of being dressed for dinner. She had -explained her mental attitude, received a hearty kiss and been told to -lie down and make herself comfortable. There she was, at the moment, in -one of the peculiar frocks which had become almost like the uniform of -Feo's "gang." She was not old, except in experience. In fact, she was -not more than twenty-three. But as she lay on the sofa with her eyes -closed and her lashes like black fans on her cheeks, a little pout on -her pretty mouth and her bobbed head resting upon a brilliant cushion, -she looked, in those clothes of hers, like a school girl whose -headmistress was a woman of an aesthetic turn of mind but with a curious -penchant for athleticism. Underneath her smock of duvetyn, the color of -a ripe horse-chestnut, she wore bloomers and stockings rolled down under -her knees,--as everybody could see. She might have been a rather swagger -girl scout who never scouted, and there was just a touch of masculinity -about her without anything muscular. She was, otherwise, so tiny a thing -that any sort of a man could have taken her up in one hand and held her -above his head. Very different from Lady Feo, whose shoulders were -broad, whose bones were large, who stood five foot ten without her -shoes, who could hand back anything that was given to her and swing a -golf club like a man. - -"I've just been dipping into Margot's Diary, Georgie. Topping stuff. I -wish to God she were young again,--one of us. She'd make things hum. I -can't understand why the critics have all thrown so many vitriolic fits -about her book and called her the master egotist. Don't they know the -meaning of words and isn't this an autobiography? Good Lord, if any -woman has a right to be egotistical it's Margot. She did everything well -and to my way of thinking she writes better than all the novelists -alive. She can sum up a character as well in ten lines as all our -verbose young men in ten chapters. In her next book I hope to heaven -she'll get her second wind and put a searchlight into Downing Street. -Her poor old bird utterly lost his tail but the public ought to know to -what depths of trickery and meanness politics can be carried.--You can -make that iron a bit hotter if you like, Lola. Don't be afraid of it." - -Lola gave her a glint of smile and laid the iron back on its stand. - -During the process of being dressed, Lady Feo reclined in a sort of -barber's chair--not covered with a _peignoir_ or a filmy dressing jacket -but in what is called in America a union suit--a one-piece thing of silk -with no sleeves and cut like rowing shorts. It became her tremendously -well,--cool and calm and perfectly satisfied with herself. She glanced -at Lola, who stood quiet and efficient in a neat frock of black alpaca, -with her golden hair done closely to her small head, and then winked at -Georgie and gave a hitch to her elbow to call attention to the new maid -whom she had already broken in and regarded as the latest actor in her -private theatricals. Her whole life was a sort of play in which she took -the leading part. - -There was something in that large and airy bedroom which always did Mrs. -Malwood good. She liked its Spartan simplicity, its white walls, white -furniture, white carpet and the curtains and cushions which were of -delicate water-color tones suggestive of sweet peas. It had once been -wholly black as a background for Lady Feo's dead-white skin. But her -friend had grown out of that, as she grew out of almost everything -sooner or later. - -"New, isn't she?" asked Mrs. Malwood without lowering her voice. - -"A month old," replied Lady Feo, "and becoming more and more useful -every moment. Aren't you, Lola?" - -Lola bowed and smiled and once more put the hot tongs to the thick wiry -hair which eventually would stand out around her mistress's head like -that of some Hawaiian girl. - -"Where did you pick her up?" asked Georgie. - -"She fell into my lap like a ripe plum. She's a niece of my Breezy, the -housekeeper. You'd never think it, would you? I'm more and more inclined -to believe, as a matter of fact, that she escaped from a china cabinet -from a collection of Dresden pieces." - -Mrs. Malwood perched herself upon an elbow and examined Lola -languidly,--who was quite used to this sort of thing, having already -been discussed openly before innumerable people as though she were a -freak. - -They little knew how closely Lola was studying them in turn,--their -manner, their accent, their tricks of phrase and for what purpose she -was undergoing this apprenticeship. Out for sensation, they would -certainly have attained a thrilling one could they have seen into the -mind of this discreet and industrious girl who performed her duties with -the deftest fingers and went about like a disembodied spirit. - -"Where are you dining?" - -"Here," said Lady Feo. "I've got half a dozen of Arthur's friendly -enemies coming. It will be a sort of Cabinet meeting. They're all in a -frightful stew about his attitude on the Irish question. They know that -he and I are not what the papers call 'in sympathy,' so why the dickens -they've invited themselves I don't know,--in the hope, I suppose, of my -being able to work on his feelings and get him to climb down from his -high horse. The little Welshman is the last man to cod himself that his -position is anything but extremely rocky and he knows that he can't -afford to lose the support of a man like Arthur, whose honesty is sworn -to by every Tom, Dick and Harry in the land; this is in the way of a -_dernier ressort_, I suppose. I shall be the only woman present. Pity me -among this set of indecisive second-raters who are all in a dead funk -and utterly unable to cope with the situation, either in Germany, -France, Ireland, India or anywhere else and have messed up the whole -show. If I had Margot's pen, just think what a ripping chapter I could -write in my diary if I kept one, eh, Georgie?" She threw back her head -and laughed. - -As far as Fallaray's hard-and-fast stand against reprisals was concerned -she cared nothing. In fact, Ireland was a word with which she was -completely fed up. She had erased it from her dictionary. It meant -nothing to her that British officers were being murdered in their beds -and thrown at the feet of their wives or that the scum of the army had -blacked and tanned their way through a country burning with passion and -completely mad. The evening was just one of a series of stunts to her -out of which she would derive great amusement and be provided with -enough chitchat to give her friends gusts of mirth for weeks. - -"I saw Fallaray to-day," said Georgie. "He was walking in the Park. He -only needs a suit of armor to look like Richard Coeur de Lion. Is he -really and honestly sincere, Feo, or is this a political trick to get -the Welshman out of Downing Street? I ask because I don't believe that -any man can have been in the House as long as he has and remain clean." - -"Don't you know," said Lady Feo, with only the merest glint of smile, -"that Arthur has been divinely appointed to save civilization from -chaos? Don't you know that?" - -"Yes, but I know a good many of the others who have--when any one's -looking. You really can't make me believe in these people, especially -since the War. Such duds, my dear." - -"All the same, you can believe in Arthur." She spoke seriously. "He has -no veneer, no dishonesty, no power of escape from his own standards of -life. That's why he and I are like oil and water. We don't speak the -same language. He reminds me always of an Evangelist at a fancy-dress -ball, or Cromwell at a varsity binge. He's a wonderful dull dog, is -Arthur, absolutely out of place in English politics and it's perfectly -ridiculous that he should be married to me. God knows why I did it. His -profile fascinated me, probably, and the way he played tennis. I was -dippy about both those things at the time. I'm awfully sorry for him, -too. He needs a wife,--a nice cowlike creature with no sense of humor -who would lick his boots, put eau de cologne on his high forehead, run -to meet him with a little cry of adoration and spring out of bed to turn -on his bath when he came home in the middle of the night. All Cromwells -do and don't they love the smell of powder!--Good for you, Lola. Don't -you get frightfully fed up with this thick wiry hair of mine?" - -Lola smiled and shook her head. It was only when she was alone with her -mistress that she permitted herself to answer questions. But as she -listened and with a burning heart heard her hero discussed and dismissed -and knew, better and more certainly than ever, the things that he -needed, one phrase ran like a recurring motif through her brain,--the -rustle of silk, the rustle of silk. - - - -II - - -Lola and Miss Breezy were not on speaking terms. - -The elderly spinster considered that she had been used and flouted, -treated as though she were in her dotage and had lost her authority to -engage and dismiss the members of the Fallaray menage. She had nursed, -therefore, a feeling of bitter antagonism against Lola during her three -weeks under the same roof. She had not treated her niece to anything in -the nature of an outburst on her return from Queen's Road to take up her -duties. "Dignity, dignity," she repeated again and again and steeled -herself with two other wonderful words that have helped so many similar -women in the great crisis of wounded vanity,--"my position." She had -simply cut her dead. Since then they had, of course, met frequently and -had even been obliged to speak to each other. They did so as though they -were totally unrelated and had never met before. - -All this led to a certain amount of comedy below stairs, it being -perfectly well known to every one that Lola was the housekeeper's niece. -What Lola did when Miss Breezy entered the servants' sitting room the -night of her arrival filled the maids with astonishment, resentment and -admiration,--astonishment because of her extraordinary capacity of -holding in her laughter, resentment because she treated Miss Breezy with -the sort of respect which that good lady never got from them, and -admiration because of the innate breeding which seemed to ooze from that -child's finger tips. She had risen to her feet. And ever since she had -continued to do so--a thing, the possibility of which the others had -never conceived--and when spoken to had replied, "Yes, Miss Breezy," -with a perfectly straight face and not one glint of humor in her eye. It -was wonderful. It was like something in a book,--an old book by a man -who wrote of times that were as dead as mutton. It was gorgeous. It gave -the girls the stitch from laughing. It became one of their standard -jokes. "Up for Miss Breezy," the word went after that and there was a -scramble out of chairs. All this made the elderly spinster angrier than -ever. Not only had she been done by this girl but, my word, the child -was rubbing it in. - -It was curious to see the effect that Lola had upon the other servants. -They were all tainted with the Bolshevism that has followed in the wake -of the War. They drew their wages and grumbled, slurred their duties, -ate everything that they could lay their hands on, thought nothing of -destroying the utensils of the kitchen and the various things which they -used in the course of work, went out as often as they could and stayed -out much later than the rules of the house permitted. But under the -subtle influence of this always smiling, always good-tempered girl who -seemed to have come from another planet, ribaldry and coarse jokes and -the rather loose larking with the footmen began gradually to disappear. -Without resentment, because Lola was so companionable and fitted into -her new surroundings like a key into a lock, they toned themselves down -in her presence, and finding her absolutely without "side," hurried to -win her friendship, went into her room at night, singly, to confide in -her,--were not in the least jealous because Albert Simpkins, the butler -and the two footmen competed with one another to grovel at her feet. In -a word, Lola was as great a favorite below stairs as she was above. She -had realized that the ultimate success of her plan depended on her -popularity in the servants' sitting room and in winning these people to -her side had used all her homogeneous sense, even, perhaps, with greater -care and thoughtfulness than she had applied to her task of ingratiating -herself with Lady Feo. She knew very well that if the servants didn't -get on with her she would never be able to stay. They would make it -impossible. - -How Madame de Breze would have chuckled had she been able to see her -little imitator sitting on the sofa at night, beneath an oleograph of -Queen Victoria, going through the current _Tatler_ in the midst of a -group of maids, with a butler and two footmen hanging over her shoulders -and a perfect valet dreaming of matrimony sitting astride a chair as -near as he could get. How she would have laughed at her descendant's -small quips and touches of wit and irony as she discussed the people who -were known to her companions by sight and by name and seemed to belong -to a sort of menagerie, separated from them by the iron bars of class -distinction through which they could be seen moving about,--well fed and -well groomed and performing for the public. - -It was no trouble to Lola to do all this. She had done it almost all her -life with the gradations of children with whom she had been at -school,--admired by the girls, keeping the boys at arms' length and yet -retaining their friendship. It was perfectly easy. Lady Feo had liked -her instantly and so no effort was necessary. Tactfulness alone was -required,--to be silent when her mistress obviously required silence, to -be merry and bright when her mood was expansive and to anticipate her -wishes whenever in attendance. All Lola's period of make-believe, during -which she had played the celebrated courtesan in her little back -bedroom, had taught her precisely how to conduct herself in her new -surroundings. Had not she herself been in the hands of just such a -lady's maid as she had now become and seen her laugh when she had -laughed, remain quiet when she had demanded quietude? It merely meant -that she had exchanged roles with Lady Feo for a time and was playing -the servant's part instead of that of the leading lady. She reveled in -the whole thing. It gave her constant delight and pleasure. Above all, -she was under the same roof as her hero, of whom she caught a momentary -glimpse from time to time,--from the window as he got into his car, from -the gallery above the hall as he came back from the House of Commons, or -late at night when he passed along the corridor to his lonely rooms, -sometimes tired and with dragging feet, sometimes scornful and -impatient, and once or twice so blazing with anger that it was a wonder -that the things he touched did not burst into flames. - - - -III - - -The only one of the servants who took the remotest interest in the -arrival of those members of the Cabinet who were to dine with Lady Feo -was Lola. With the butler's connivance she stood inside the hat room in -the hall and peeped through the door. To her there was something not -only indescribably interesting in the sight at close quarters of men of -whom she had read daily for years and who were admired or loathed by her -father and his friends, but something moving, because they had it in -their power to help or hinder the work of Fallaray. She found them to be -a curiously smug and well-fed lot, undistinguished, badly dressed and -not very different from the ordinary run of Queen's Road tradesmen. She -thought that they looked like piano tuners and was astonished and -disappointed. - -The most important person, who arrived late and whose face was of course -familiar to her from caricatures, made up for all the rest. He stood in -the full light for a moment while he gave his coat and hat to a -footman,--a soft dump hat and a coat lined with very shiny black satin. -He looked more than ever like a quack doctor, one who was a cross -between a comedian and a revivalist. His uncut hair, very white now, -flopped over the back of his collar in a most uncivilized manner and his -little moustache of the walrus type was quite out of keeping with it. If -he had been clean-shaven he could have passed for a poet, or a dramatist -who desired to advertise the fact, as some of them do who flourished in -the Victorian period. His short plebeian figure, with legs far too small -and apparently too frail to carry his fat little trunk, gave him a -gnome-like appearance, but in his eyes, which were very wonderful, there -was a gleam of humor and resourcefulness which stamped him as a -consummate leader of men, while his forehead denoted imagination and -keen intelligence. It made Lola laugh to see the way in which he tried -to win the callous footman with a cheery word, never losing an -opportunity of making a client, and to watch his rabbit-like way of -going upstairs to the drawing-room. - -She was met by Simpkins, who darted quickly and eagerly to her side. -"Look 'ere," he said in a whisper. "You're free for the evening. How -about doing a show with me? I can get you back before Lady Feo'll want -you again. What d'yer say?" - -"Yes," said Lola, "I should love it. What shall we see?" - -Simpkins was a gallery first nighter and an ardent patron of the drama. -Whatever he recommended, therefore, was sure to be worth seeing. "Well," -he said, "there's Irene Vanbrugh in a new American play,--'Miss Nell o' -New Orleans.' I couldn't get to see it but I read old man Walkley and I -saw what Punch said. I don't think the play's much, but Irene is -orlright. Nip up and get your things on. Let's go and test it." - -Lola nipped. Her little bedroom was in the servants' corridor. She was -lucky that it wasn't, like most servants' bedrooms, in the basement, -cheek by jowl with the coal cellar. She changed quickly, excited at the -prospect of stealing a few hours away from the house in Dover Street. -She had been home twice on her nights off, there to be gazed at in -silent wonder by the little mother who seemed to know her even less than -ever and to be put through an exhaustive cross-examination by her -father, whose mind ran to small details, as was natural in one who wore -a magnifying glass perpetually in his eye. She met Simpkins in the -servants' sitting room,--very spruce in a tail coat and a bowler with -his black tie ingeniously pulled through a gold ring in which there was -a most depressed diamond. - -She was received with a chorus of inquiries from the maids. "Hello, -Lola," "On the loose with Simpky?" "This is something new, ain't it?" -"Going to do the shimmy in 'Ammersmith?" and so forth. To all of which -she replied in one sentence. "Mr. Simpkins is taking me to an organ -recital," and won a scream of mirth. - -Simpkins was ecstatic. He had made a bet with himself that his appeal -would be refused. Always before Lola had turned him down and he knew -that the frequent pestering of the butler and the two footmen had been -unable to move her to adventure. "We've just time to do it," he said, -put two fingers into his mouth and sent a piercing whistle into the -muggy April evening. A prowling taxi drew up short and quivered, and a -well-shaped head looked round to see from whom this urgent call had -issued. Taking Lola's hand, Simpkins ran her across the street and -opened the door. "The Dooker York's." - -"Righto, Sir," said the driver, giving a quick and appreciative glance -at his customer's companion. Exactly three years ago the owner of that -particularly nice voice, straight nose and small moustache had commanded -a battery of the R. F. A. and fired with open sights at the advancing -enemy. With nothing to eat except apples plucked from the orchards -through which he had retired with his ragged and weakening men, he had -fought coolly and cheerily for many days and nights, utterly out of -touch with the main army and eventually, looking like a scarecrow, had -removed his guns from impossible positions and fallen on his face in -Amiens. Thus does a grateful Parliament reward its saviors. - -Simpkins slipped his hand through Lola's arm. "I've been looking forward -to this," he said. "You don't know what you've done for me. I'm a -different man since I saw you first." - -"I," said Lola quickly, "am precisely the same girl," and very kindly -and definitely gave him back his hand and drew a little farther into her -corner of the cab. But Simpkins wasn't hurt. On the contrary he esteemed -her the more highly for this action. She proved herself so to be -different from the girls with whom he was acquainted and thus lived up -to his preconceived idea of her. "Sorry," he said, "thank you," and -glowed with love. - -It was perfectly true that Simpkins was a different man since he had -seen Lola. She had revolutionized his life and his thoughts and -strengthened his ambitions. He was a good fellow, clean-minded, with one -or two ideals to which he had clung faithfully and well through the many -temptations which were provided by his like below stairs. He had -character. He was illiterate but not unintelligent. He had something -that the human sensibility is frequently without,--a soul, and because -of that he had imagination and a sense of worship. He was the sort of -man of whom fanatics are made under a crisis of deep emotion. As a -gentleman's gentleman he regarded himself as having a sort of mission in -life. He must be honest, always ready for his master's call; spruce, -cheerful and discreet. When tempted to make himself acquainted with the -contents of private letters he must never give anything away. He had -held himself in waiting, so to speak, for a great love affair and had -built up in his mind a good and wholesome picture of home and wife and -children. Lola fitted into this picture and dominated it as no other -girl had ever done, and he had fallen actually and metaphorically before -her like a shack before a hurricane. At any time now he could leave -service and branch out for himself, because he had inherited from his -father a sum of money which would enable him to buy a public house -somewhere in the country--preferably on the upper Thames--and let rooms -to nice people,--they would have to be nice people. He was a man in the -middle thirties with plenty of time to add to his good nest egg, bring -up a little family with great care and put his son in a good school with -a view to making him a gentleman,--a dentist perhaps, or a clerk in -Coutts's bank. He could see only Lola as the mother of this boy and the -fact that she had accepted his invitation to go to the theater filled -him with a great hopefulness; he rejoiced in her having disallowed his -familiarity. - -To Lola, Simpkins was less than the dust. She had already sized him up -as a rather curious character to be respected and even liked but not, of -course, to be considered as anything but an infrequent escort into the -theater life of London. - -She placed him among the Treadwells,--though not so high up in the list -as Ernest. One of these fine days she hoped to be able to lift the -Bayswater poet out of the public library into the public gaze, to do for -him what Madame de Breze had done for Paul Brissac. - -They arrived at the theater in good time. With a curious touch of -embarrassment, because he had seen at once that the cab was being driven -by a gentleman, Simpkins handed over half a crown and said, "That's all -right, you can keep the change." He received a crisp and unabashed -"Thank you" and a little bow from the waist down which was a cross -between extreme politeness and ineffable cheek, and before Lola turned -to go into the theater she was given a pucka salute with the hand almost -flat upon the ear. She returned a smile that was like one of those -electric advertisements which flick in and out of the sky in all really -progressive American cities. It nearly knocked the man over and almost -caused him to collide with a policeman. - -Simpkins was tempted to buy two seats in the stalls and could have done -so without question in these after-war times when almost the only people -who have enough money for their laundresses are the profiteers. But -tradition prevailed and he took her up to the dress circle,--where -nobody dressed. The people were coming reluctantly into the theater in -the usual manner of Londoners. English people are not ardent theater -goers and have to be dragged in to see a play almost in the same manner -as in the old days of barnstorming, when the manager beat a drum on the -threshold of the tent, the hero and the heroine stood at his elbow and -made pathetic appeals to passers-by, and the villain, lurking in the -background, grimaced at all the girls. - -The orchestra had just begun to tune up and the scraping of fiddles sent -a tingle through Lola's veins. It put her in the mood, as it always did, -to forget life, her own personality and the presence of Simpkins, and -place herself into the character of the play's heroine. From an -unexpected pocket Simpkins brought out a small box of chocolates. He was -one of those strange people who, although they have just risen from a -hearty meal, cannot go through an evening at the theater without -munching something. "'Ave one," he said. "They're nice." - -"You think of everything," said Lola, and in order not to hurt his -feelings, took one and dropped it under the seat. "There's going to be a -good house," she added. - -"Irene always draws 'em in. By Gum, she's given me some good evenings in -her time. She's what I call safe. You can bank on her. She dresses like -a lady, too, and that gets me. Good old Irene." And then he put his face -rather close to Lola's. "Some one said you thought of going on the stage -before you joined us. That's not true, is it?" - -"No," said Lola. "Not in the least true. I discussed it with my aunt. In -fact, to be quite honest, I put it to her head like a pistol." - -"Oh, I see." Simpkins heaved a sigh of relief. If Lola were to go on the -stage,--and all these young officers buzzing about, treating marriage as -though it were a betting transaction---- - -"I think," said Lola with naive gravity, "that it's better to play a -leading part in life than to be in the chorus on the stage. Cleverer -acting is required, too, don't you think so?" - -A leading part in life? Simpkins was worried. Would she consider the -wife of a man who owned the "Black Bell" at Wargrave to be a leading -part? "You're not ambitious, are yer?" he asked, peering at her -patrician profile. - -"Oh," she said, "Oh," and suddenly threw out her hands. - -And then the lights went out and the buzz of talking ceased gradually as -though bees were retiring in platoons from a feeding place. - - - -IV - - -They walked to Trafalgar Square. Lola was still in the old garden of -Miss Nell among the Creoles and the music of the Mardi Gras frolickers. -She had no ears for the expert criticisms of her escort. There were -plenty of unoccupied taxis scouting for fares but Lola pulled up under -the shadow of the National Gallery to watch the big play of life for a -moment or two. From force of a habit which she had not yet conquered, -she looked up at the sky, half expecting to see the great white beams of -searchlights swing and stammer until they focussed upon something that -looked like a silver fish, and then to twinge under the quick reports of -anti-aircraft guns. Twice during the War she had been caught on that -spot during a raid and had stood transfixed to the pavement between -fright and a keen desire to see the show. Memories of those -never-to-be-forgotten incidents, small as they were and of no -consequence in the story of the War--the loss of a few well-fed -noncombatants who made themselves targets for stray shrapnel because -they wouldn't dip like rabbits into funk holes--came back to her then, -as well they might. The War's evidences forced themselves every day upon -the notice even of those who desired to forget,--the processions of -unemployed with their rattling collection boxes among the ugliest of -them all. - -Big Ben struck the quarter and Lola returned to earth. "Simpky," she -said, "cab, quick." And he called one and gave the address. And then she -began again to hear what the valet was saying. He had used up Miss Nell -o' New Orleans and had come to Miss Lola of Queen's Road, Bayswater. -"Look 'ere, can't we do this often, you and me? We can always sneak off -when there's a dinner on or Lady Feo's out in the push. It don't cost -much and I've got plenty of money." - -"I should like to very much," said Lola. "Once a fortnight, say. You -see, I go home every Wednesday night. I don't think we ought to do it -more often than once a fortnight because, after all, I feel rather -responsible to Auntie and I don't want to set a bad example to the other -girls." - -"Well, promise you won't go out with the other men. I let you into the -'ouse first, don't forget that, and that was a sort of omen to me and if -you could bring yourself to look upon me as--well----" He broke off -nervously and ran his hand over his forehead, which was damp with -excitement. - -But Lola was not in the least nonplussed. She had had so much practice. -She was an expert in mentally making all sorts and conditions of men her -brothers. She said, "Simpky,"--although the man looked extremely -un-Russian,--"you mustn't spoil me. Also you must remember that Ellen -Glazeby has hopes. She's a friend of mine." - -"Oh, my God," said Simpkins, with a touch of melodrama. "If I'd been -engaged to 'er and on the verge of marriage, and then 'ad seen you,--or -even if I'd been married for a couple of years and was 'appy and 'ad -seen you----Religious as I am----" - -Lola turned to him with extreme simplicity. "But I'm a good girl, -Simpky," she said. - -And he gave a funny throaty sound, like a frog at night with its feet in -water; and one of his hands fluttered out and caught hold of the end of -Lola's piece of fur, and this he pressed to his lips. "Oh, my God," he -said again, words failing. - -And so Lola was rather glad when the cab drew up at the house in Dover -Street. - -A car arrived at the same time and honked impatiently and imperiously. -Simpkins leapt from the taxi and said, "Pull out of the way, quick." It -did so. And as Lola descended and stood at the top of the area steps, -she saw Fallaray go slowly up to the front door with rounded shoulders, -as though he were Atlas with the weight of the world on his back. He was -followed by a man whose step was light and eager. - - - -V - - -It was George Lytham. - -The editor of a new weekly called _Reconstruction_ which had not as yet -done more than take its place among all those elder brothers on the -bookstalls which were suffering from a combination of hardening of the -arteries and shrinkage of the exchequer, Lytham was a live wire, a man -who could make mistakes, eat his own words, and having gone halfway up -the wrong road, turn around without giving a curse for what other men -would call dignity and retrace his steps at a run. Eton and Balliol, he -had been a wet-bob, had a chest like a prize fighter and a forearm as -hard as a cricket bat. The third son of old Lord Lockinge, he had sat in -the House as member for one of those agricultural constituencies which -are too dull and scattered to attract Radical propagandists and nearly -always plump for Unionism. He had quickly made his mark. _Punch_ drew -him in rowing shorts after his maiden speech and the Northcliff press -made a point of referring to him as Young Lochinvar. But he had chucked -the House in disgust after two years of it, one year of enormous -enthusiasm during which he had worked like a dog and another year of -sickly pessimism and disillusion brought about by contact with a set of -political crows who fluttered over the carcass of -England,--traditionless, illiterate, dishonest, of low minds and low -accents, led by the Old Bad Men who had inherited the right or tricked -their way to the front benches and had all died before the War but were -still living and still clinging to office. He owed allegiance to no -leader and had started _Reconstruction_, backed with the money of the -great mine owners and merchants who should have been members of the -Cabinet, for the purpose of cleaning out the Augean stables. He numbered -among his contributors every political free-thinker in -England,--ex-members of Parliament, ex-war correspondents who spoke with -horror of brass hats, and men who had served in all capacities in the -War and were, for that reason, determined to remove the frightful burden -of taxation caused by the maintenance of a great war machine for the -indulgence of escapades in Mesopotamia and Ireland. - -Lytham was young,--not yet thirty-five; unmarried, so that his purpose -was single, his time his own. His paper was his wife and he was out for -blood,--not with a bludgeon, not with a gun, but with an intellect -which, supported by other intellects, alone provided some hope for the -future of England and the Human Family. He had fastened upon Fallaray -and dogged his heels. He regarded him as a brother, was ready to back -him through thick and thin and had come home with him that night to -discuss one or two of the great questions of the moment and to make -plans for quick functioning. - -When Fallaray led the way into his den and turned up the lights--all of -them, so that there should be no shadows in the room and no -ghosts--Lytham took his place with his back to the fire, standing in the -frame of black oak like the picture of a crusader who had left his armor -at home; he liked that room for its size and simplicity and tradition, -its books and prints and unashamed early-Victorianism. He was as tall as -Fallaray but not as thin and did not look as though the fires of his -soul had burnt him down to the bone. His hair was brown and crisp and -short, his moustache small, his nose straight and his eyes large and -full of humor and irony. Except for his mouth there was nothing -sensitive in his face and the only sign of restlessness that he -permitted himself to show was in his habit of lighting one cigarette -from the butt of another just finished,--the cheapest stinkers that were -on the market and which had been smoked by the men of the regiment to -which he had been attached from the beginning to the end of the -War,--fags, in other words. His holder was far too long for the comfort -of people who stood too close. - -"Now, Fallaray," he said, "let's get down to it." - -Fallaray sat on the edge of his desk which he gripped tight with both -his hands. "I'm ready," he answered. - -"The point is this. You have come out against reprisals, which means -that you have dared to voice the overwhelming sentiment of the country -at a moment when the Government has plumped for whole hoggism and given -Sinn Fein its finest advertisement. So far so good. But this is only the -beginning. To carry the thing on to its right conclusion, you must not -only resign from the Cabinet but you must lead us to an immediate -settlement of the Irish question. You must organize all that section of -British opinion and American opinion--which counts for so much--and work -for the overthrow of the coalition government. Will you do it?" - -"Of course." - -"Ah!" - -"But wait a second. Here we are marching with France into Germany, -occupying towns for the purpose of wringing out of these whimpering -liars the fruits of victory which they say they cannot pay and which -they may not be able to pay. Already the fires of Bolshevism are -breaking out everywhere as a result. Are we to put the Irish question -before one that is surrounded with the most amazing threads of -difficulty and may lead to the death of Europe? In other words, my dear -Lytham, is murder and arson in one small island of greater importance to -the world at this moment than the possibility of a new and even more -terrible war in Europe, with disease and famine following at its heels? -The men I have served with during the last war say 'no.' They have even -gone so far as to dine here to-night with my wife to try and get her to -move me out of what they call my rut,--to persuade me, because they have -failed to do so, to shelve the Irish question and back up France in her -perfectly righteous demand for reparations. I can't make up my mind -whether I will see this German question through, or swing body and soul -to the Irish question and handicap them in this new crisis. If you've -got anything to say, for God's sake, say it." - -For a moment Lytham had nothing to say. It did seem to him, as he stood -there in that quiet room with all its books and with hardly a sound -coming in from the street below, that the troubles of that green and -egotistical island melted away before those which did not affect merely -England and France and Germany, Austria, Russia, Poland, Belgium but -America also. It did seem to him that the murder of a few Britishers, a -handful of loyal Irishmen and the reprisals of the Black and Tans for -cowardly ambushes, brutally carried out, were in the nature of a side -show in a circus of shows, of a small family quarrel in a city of -families who were up against a frightful epidemic,--and he didn't know -what to say. - -The two men looked into each other's eyes, searched each other's hearts -and waited, listening, for an inspiration,--from God probably, whose -children had become strangely out of hand. - -Thus they stood, silent and without a sign, as others were -standing,--bewildered, embarrassed, groping. - -And then the door was flung open. - - - -VI - - -Feo Fallaray's ideas of evening clothes were curious. Her smock-frock, -or wrapper, or whatever she called the thing, had a shimmer of green -about it. Her stockings were green and she wore round her head a circlet -of the most marvelous pieces of jade. The result was bizarre and made -her look as though she were in fancy dress. She might have been an -English Polaire ready to enter the smarter Bohemian circles of a London -Montmartre. Or, to quote the remark of a woman in the opposite set, "a -pre-Raphaelite flapper." - -She drew up short on seeing Lytham. He was no friend of hers. He was far -too normal, far too earnest, and both his hands were on the wheel. But -with all the audacity of which she was past mistress, she gave him one -of her widest smiles. "Oh, it's you," she said. "They told me some one -was with my beloved husband. Well, how's young Lochinvar?" - -Lytham bowed profoundly and touched her hand with the tips of his -fingers. "Very well, thank you," he said. How he detested green. If he -had been married and his wife had dared to appear in such a frock, he -would have returned her to her mother for good. - -Fallaray rose from the desk on which he was sitting and walked to the -farthest end of the room. There was no one in the world who gave him -such a sense of irritation as this woman did. - -"I'm not welcome, I know," said Feo, "but I thought you might like me to -come and tell you what happened to-night, Arthur." - -Fallaray turned, but did not look at her. "Thanks so much," he said. -"Yes. You're very kind. I'm afraid you've been pretty badly bored." - -She echoed the word, giving it all its dictionary interpretations and -some which are certainly not in any dictionary. - -"When I see those people," she said, "I marvel at our ever having got -through the War. Well, the end of it is that I am to ask you to -reconsider your attitude. The argument is that your secession puts them -into the cart just at a moment when they think, rightly or wrongly, that -they are forcing the fear of God into the Sinn Feiners. They can't -imagine that my influence with you is absolutely nil, because they have -the bourgeois idea of marriage and think that because two people are -tied together by Church and law they must of necessity be in full -sympathy. So all I can do is to make my report and add on my own account -that I never saw such a set of petty opportunists in all my career." - -Lytham gave her a match for the cigarette that she had put into a black -holder with a narrow band of diamonds. "Did you give them any views of -your own?" he asked. - - - [Illustration: A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.] - - -"Rather," she said, the light on her hair like moonlight on black water. -"I held forth at length with my back to the fireplace. As a matter of -fact, quite on the spur of the moment, I handed them a very brilliant -idea." - -"Yes?" It was a little incredulous. - -"Yes, odd as it very obviously seems to you, Lochinvar. I said that I -thought that this was the psychological moment for a nice piece of -theatricality. I said that some one, probably Kipling, should draft a -letter for the King, in which he should set forth the fact that he was -going to withdraw every one of his soldiers and all his officials from -Ireland at once and leave the Irish to run themselves, giving them the -same kind of dominion government that they have in Australia and Canada, -wishing them Godspeed and a happy Easter,--a manly, colloquial letter, -very simple and direct, and ending with a touch of real emotion, the -sort of thing that the King would write on his own, better than any -one." - -There was a moment's pause, during which Lytham darted a quick look at -Fallaray. A gleam came into the eyes of both men. - -"What did they say to that?" he asked. - -"My dear man, what do you suppose they said? Having no imagination and -precious little knowledge of the facts of the case, they dragged in -Ulster and talked about civil war, which I think is absurd, because -already, as Arthur knows perfectly well, Ulster is feeling the pinch of -the boycott and has deserted Carson to a man. They're longing for a -settlement and only anxious to go on making bawbees in the good old -Scotch Presbyterian manner.--They couldn't see, and I don't suppose they -will ever be made to see, this lot, that a letter from the King would -immediately have the effect of withdrawing all the sympathy from the -Irish and reduce them from martyrs to the level of ordinary human -beings. They couldn't see that every Irish grievance would be taken away -in one fell swoop, that the priests would be left without a leg to stand -on and that above all America would be the first to say 'Now show us.' -It would be a frightful blow to Collins and de Valera and also to the -Germans and the Sinn Feiners in the United States, and make all the -world admire the British sense of sportsmanship,--which we have almost -lost by everything that has been done during and since the War by our -people in Ireland.--What do _you_ think of it,--both of you?" - -She threw her head back and waited for a scoffing laugh from Lytham and -a look from her husband that would move her to ribaldry. Her long white -neck rose out of her queer gown like a pillar, the pieces of jade in her -hair shimmered oddly and there was the gleam of undergraduate ragging in -her eyes. - -Fallaray looked at his wife for the first time. "It was an inspiration," -he said. "I confess that I have never thought of this solution." - -Feo was amazed but bowed ironically. "Very generous, Arthur, very -generous. I couldn't have been married to you all this time without -having acquired a certain amount of intelligence, though, could I?" Even -at such a moment she could not remain serious, although she was -perfectly ready to confess to a considerable flutter of vanity at -Fallaray's favorable comment. - -"My God," said George Lytham, "it takes a woman to think of a thing like -this." - -"You'll make me swollen-headed in a moment, you two." - -Lytham took no further notice of her. He strode over to Fallaray. "Could -this be done? I quite agree with your wife in her interpretation of the -effect of such a letter and of course it could be made the sort of human -document which would electrify the world. I agree, too, that once our -soldiers were withdrawn with all the brass hats from the castle, the -huge majority of reasonable Irishmen would insist on taking hold of -things against the very small minority of Republicans who have merely -used Ireland as a means of feathering their own nests, and be obliged to -prove that they are fit to run their own country without bloody -squabbles, cat-calling, filthy recriminations and all the other things -for which they have earned a historical reputation. But--can it be -done?" - -Fallaray paced up and down the room with his hands clasped behind his -back and his great shoulders rounded. Lytham and Lady Feo watched him. -It was a peculiar moment. They both saw in it the test of Fallaray's -imagination and, in a way, humor. They could see that he was looking at -this thing from every possible angle, dissecting it as a chemist would -dissect bad water. At last he gave a groan and stopped and faced them. - -"Not with these men," he said. "Not with this political system, not in -these times. Do you imagine for a moment that the present Cabinet holds -a single man big enough, humble enough, patriotic enough to permit even -the King to step on the stage and absorb the limelight? No. Not one. -There is some microbe in the House of Commons, some atrocious cootie -which gets under the skin of its members and poisons them so that they -become the victims of a form of egomania of which they never can be -cured. Then, too, my dear Lytham, we must get it into our heads that the -Irish trouble is like a cancer in the body of the Constitution. We may -hit upon a medicine that seems likely to give temporary relief--the -withdrawal of the troops, the appointment of a new Lord Lieutenant, even -the establishment of a Dominion Government--but we have got to remember -that the hatred of the Irish for the English is fundamental and -permanent. What may seem to us to-day to offer a solution to this -age-old problem becomes futile and unworkable to-morrow. In our efforts -to deal with the question we must not allow ourselves to be influenced -by the quick transitory events that chase each other across the front -pages of the paper. We must, if we can, go to the root of the -malady,--the deep human emotion that burns in the hearts and souls of -the Irish and endeavor to understand. Otherwise we are as children -making foolish marks on shifting sand. What we write to-day is -obliterated to-morrow." - -He turned about, walked slowly over to the chair at his desk and dropped -into it heavily, rising again immediately because Feo was standing. - -Seeing which, and having an engagement to join Mrs. Malwood and several -others at a private dance club, she made for the door. "Well," she said, -"there it is. I did my best for you." - -"An excellent best," said Fallaray. "Thank you again. Are you leaving -us?" - -She waved her hand, that long able hand which might have achieved good -things but for that fatal kink in her,--and went. - -"Brilliant woman," said Fallaray. It was on the tip of Lytham's tongue -to say "Brilliant what?" but he swallowed the remark. - -And presently they heard Feo's high-pitched voice in the street below, -giving an order to her chauffeur. - -And they resumed the discussion, coming back always to the point from -which they started. The Old Bad Man, shuffling, juggling, lying to -others as well as themselves, without the sense to realize that -something far worse than the War was coming hourly to a head, blocked -every avenue of escape. - - - -VII - - -Lytham walked home in the small hours of that morning. He had the luck -to live in the Albany, at the Piccadilly end. The streets, but for a -silent-footed Bobby or two, were deserted. Even the night birds had -given up hope and withdrawn to their various nests. - -He wondered once more, as he went along, what on earth had made Fallaray -marry Feo, of all women. It was one of his favorite forms of mental -pastime to try and discover the reason of ninety-nine per cent, of the -marriages which had come under his fairly intimate observation. It -seemed to him, in reviewing the whole body of his friends, not only that -every man had married the wrong woman but that every woman had married -the wrong man. - -There was his brother, for instance,--Charlie Lytham, master of -foxhounds and one of the most good-natured creatures to be found on -earth,--hearty, honest, charitable, full of laughter, a superb horseman, -everybody's friend. For some unexplained and astounding reason he hadn't -married one of the nice healthy English girls who rode and golfed and -stumped about the countryside, perfectly content to live out of town for -ten months of the year and enjoy a brief bust in London. He had been -dragged to the altar by a woman who looked like a turkey and gobbled -like one when she spoke, who wore the most impossible clothes with -waggling feathers and rattling beads, spoke in a loud raucous voice and -was as great a form of irritation to every one who came in contact with -her as the siren of a factory. What was the idea?--Poor devil. He had -condemned himself to penal servitude. - -Then there was his sister, Helena Lytham, a beautiful decorative person -born to play the queen in pageants and stand about as in a fresco in a -rather thick nightgown which clung decorously to her Leightonian -figure,--respectable but airy. On Lytham's return from Coblenz after the -Armistice she had presented him to a little dapper person who barely -came up to her shoulder, who smoked a perpetual cigar out of the corner -of his mouth, wore a waistcoat with a linoleum pattern, skin-tight -trousers and boots with brown leather uppers. He realized George's idea -of the riding master of a Margate livery stable. And so it went on all -the way through.--And here was Fallaray. - -The truth of the thing was that Fallaray had not married Lady Feo. Lady -Feo had married Fallaray. What she had said to Mrs. Malwood was -perfectly true. At eighteen her hobbies were profiles and tennis. At -twenty-four Fallaray's profile was at its best. He looked like a Greek -god, especially when he was playing tennis with a shirt open at the -neck, and she had met him during the year that he had put up that superb -fight against Wilding in the good old days. The fact that he was Arthur -Fallaray, the son of a distinguished father, born and bred for a place -on the front bench, a marked man already because of his speeches in the -Oxford Union, didn't matter. His profile was the finest that she had -seen and his tennis was in the championship class, and so she had -deliberately gone for him, followed him from house party to house party -with the sole intention of acquiring and possessing. At the end of six -weeks she had got him. He had been obliged to kiss her. Her face had -been purposely held in place to receive it. The rest was easy. -Whereupon, she had immediately advertised the engagement broadcast, -brought her relations down upon Fallaray in a swarm, sent paragraphs to -the papers and made it literally impossible for the unfortunate man to -do anything but go through with the damned thing like a -gentleman,--dazed by the turn of events and totally unacquainted with -the galloping creature who had seemed to him to resemble a thoroughbred -but untrained yearling, kicking its heels about in a paddock. It had all -been just a lark to her,--no more serious than collecting postage -stamps, which eventually she could sell or give away. If ever she were -to fall really in love, it would be perfectly simple, she had argued, -either to be divorced or to juggle affairs so that she might divorce -Fallaray. Any man who played tennis as well as he had done could do a -little thing like that for her. The result was well known. A man of high -ideals, Fallaray had gone through with this staggering marriage with -every intention of making it work. Being in love with no other girl, he -had determined to do his utmost to play the game and presently stand -proudly among a little family of Fallarays. But he had found in Feo some -one who had no standards, no sense of right and wrong, give and take; a -girl who was a confirmed anarchist, who cared no more for law and order, -Church and State or the fundamentals of _life_, _tradition_, _honor_, -womanhood than an animal, a beautiful orang-outang, if there is such a -thing, who or which delighted in hanging to branches by its tail and -making weird grimaces at passers-by. The thing had been a tragedy, so -far as Fallaray was concerned, an uncanny and terrible event in his -life, almost in the nature of an incurable illness. The so-called -honeymoon to which he never looked back, had been a nightmare filled -with scoffing laughter, brilliant and amazing remarks, out of which he -had emerged in a state of mental chaos to plunge into work as an -antidote. They had always lived under the same roof because it was -necessary for a man who goes into politics to truckle to that curious -form of hypocrisy which will never be eradicated from the British -system. Her people and his people had demanded this, and his first -constituency had made it a _sine qua non_. Not requiring much money, he -had been and continued to be very generous in his allowance to his wife, -who did not possess a cent of her own. On the contrary, it was -frequently necessary for her to settle her brother's debts and even to -pay her father's bills from time to time. The gallant old Marquis was -without anything so bourgeois as the money sense and couldn't possibly -play bridge under five pounds a thousand. There was also the system with -which he had many times attempted to break the bank at Monte Carlo. - -To-day, never interfering with her way of life and living in his own -wing like a bachelor, he knew less of Feo's character than he did when -she had caught him first. What he knew of her friendships and her -peregrinations he got from the newspapers. When it was necessary to dine -at his own table, he treated her as though she were one of his guests, -or rather as though he were one of hers. There was no scandal attaching -to his name, because women played absolutely no part in his life; and -there was no actual scandal attaching to hers. Only notoriety. She had -come to be looked upon by society and by the vast middle class who -discussed society as a beautiful freak, an audacious strange creature -who frittered away her gifts, who was the leader of a set of women of -all ages, married and unmarried, who took an impish delight in flouting -the conventions and believed that they established the proof of unusual -intelligence by a self-conscious display of eccentricity. - - - -VIII - - -And in the meantime Lola continued to be an apt little pupil. Her quick -ear had already enabled her to pick up the round crisp intonation of -Lady Feo and her friends and at any moment of the day she could now give -an exact imitation of their walk, manner of shaking hands and those -characteristic tricks which made them different from all the women who -had had the ill fortune to come into the world in the small streets. - -Up in the servant's bedroom in Dover Street, before a square of mirror, -Lola practised and rehearsed for her eventual debut,--the form of which -was on the knees of the gods. She had entered her term of apprenticeship -quite prepared to serve conscientiously for at least a year,--a long -probation for one so young and eager. Probably she would have continued -to study and listen and watch, with gathering impatience, but for a -sudden hurrying forward of the clock brought about by the gift of a -frock,--rustling with silk. A failure, because the dressmaker, with the -ineffable cheek of these people, had entirely departed from Feo's rigid -requirements, it provided Lola with the key to life. Giving one yell at -the sight of it, Feo was just about to rip it in pieces when she caught -the longing eyes of her maid. Whereupon, with the generosity which is so -easy when it is done with other people's money, she said, "Coming over," -rolled it into a ball and threw it at Lola. It was, as may be imagined, -a very charming and reasonable garment such as might have been worn by a -perfectly respectable person. - -On her way home that night, Lola dropped in to her own little dressmaker -who lived in one of the numerous dismal villas off Queen's Road, for the -purpose of having it altered to fit her. It was miles too large. She had -eventually brought it back to Dover Street and hidden it away behind one -of her day frocks in her only cupboard, and every time that she took a -peep at it, her eyes sparkled and her breath came short and she wondered -when and how she could possibly wear it. - -Filled with a great longing to try her wings and fly out of the cage -like the canary of which she had spoken to Ernest Treadwell, there were -moments in her life now when she was consumed with impatience. The poet -of the public library, the illiterate and ecstatic valet, the pompous -butler and the two cockney footmen,--she had grown beyond all these. She -was absolutely sure of herself as an honorary member of the Feo "gang." -She felt that she could hold her own now with the men of their class. If -she were right, her apprenticeship would be over. Fully fledged, she -could proceed with her great scheme. The chance came as chances always -do come, and as usual she took it. - -Several days after Lytham's talk with Fallaray--which had left them both -in that state of irresolution which seemed to have infected every -one--Lady Feo went off for the week-end, leaving Lola behind. The party -had been arranged on the spur of the moment and was to take place in a -cottage with a limited number of bedrooms. If Lady Feo had given the -thing a moment's thought, she would have told Lola to take three days -holiday. But this she had forgotten to do. And so there was Lola in -Dover Street with idle hands. The devil finds some mischief still---- - -At four o'clock that evening Simpkins entered the servants' sitting -room. Lola happened to be alone, surrounded by _Tatlers_, _Punches_ and -_Bystanders_, fretting a little and longing to try her paces. "Good -old," he said, "Mr. Fallaray has got to dine at the Savoy to-night with -his Ma and Auntie from the country. One of them family affairs which, -not coming too frequently, does him good. And you're free. How about -another show, Princess?" He had recently taken to calling her princess. -"There's another American play on which ain't bad, I hear. Let's sample -it. What do you say?" - -Mr. Fallaray.--The Savoy---- - -Without giving the matter an instant's thought, Lola shook her head. -"_Too bad, Simpky,_" she said, "I promised Mother to go home to-night. -She has some friends coming and I am going to help her." - -"Oh," said Simpkins, extremely disappointed. "Well, then, I'll take you -'ome and if I'm very good and put on a new tie I may be asked,--I say I -may----" He paused, having dropped what he considered to be a delicate -hint. - -This was a most awkward moment. Mr. Fallaray--The Savoy--That new frock. -And here was Simpkins butting in and standing with his head craned -forward as if to meet the invitation halfway. So she said, as cool as a -cucumber, "Mother will be very disappointed not to be able to ask you, -Simpky, because she likes you so much. She enjoyed both times you came -home with me. So did Father. But, you see, our drawing-room is very -small and Mother has asked too many people as it is. Get tickets for -tomorrow night and I shall be very glad to go with you." - -There was no guile in Lola's eye and not the smallest hesitation in her -speech. Simpkins bore up bravely. He knew these parties and the way in -which some hostesses allowed their rooms to brim over. And, anyway, it -was much better to have Lola all to himself. He could live for Saturday. -"Righto," he said. "Let me know when you're ready to go and if you feel -like a taxicab----" - -"I couldn't think of it," said Lola. "You spend much too much money, -Simpky. You're an absolute profiteer. I shall go by Tube and this time a -friend of mine is fetching me." - -"Treadwell?" She nodded and calmly examined a picture of Lopodoski in -one of her latest contortions. - -There was a black cloud on Simpkins's face. He had met Ernest at the -Breezys' house. He had seen the way in which this boy gazed at -Lola,--lanky, uncouth, socialistic young cub. He was not jealous, good -Lord, no. That would be absurd. A junior librarian with a salary that -was far less than any plumber got, and him a man of means with the -"Black Bull" at Wargrave on the horizon. All the same, if he heard that -Ernest Treadwell had suddenly been run over by a pantechnicon and -flattened out like a frog---- - -And that was why he sat down on the sofa a little too close to Lola and -dared to possess himself of her hand. "Princess,--you know 'ow I feel. -You know what you've done to me." - -Lola patted his hand and gave it back and rewarded him with a smile -which she considered to be matronly. "Nice Simpky," she said. "Very nice -Simpky," as though he were a rather faulty terrier a little too keen on -the thrown stick. "I must go now," she added and rose. "I have some -sewing to do for Lady Feo." - -And as Simpkins watched her go, his whole heart swelled, and something -went to his head that blurred everything for a moment. He would sell his -soul for that girl. For her sake he would even set light to the "Black -Bull" and watch it burn, if that would give her a moment's amusement. - -Mr. Fallaray.--The Savoy---- - -What Lola did in Lady Feo's room was not to sew but to seat herself at -the dressing table, do her hair with the greatest care and practise with -the make-up sticks,--rouge, and the brush of water colors with which she -emphasized her eyebrows. Finally, time having flown, she borrowed a pair -of lace stockings, some shoes and gloves, made her way stealthily along -the servants' corridor to her own room, and packed them, with the new -frock, into a cardboard box. Dressed and hatted for the street, she -carried the magic costume in which she was going to transplant herself -from Cinderella's kitchen to the palace of the Prince and went down to -the servants' sitting room through which it was necessary for her to go -in order to escape. - -Miss Breezy was there, issuing, as she would have said, orders to one of -the housemaids. That was lucky. It saved Lola from answering an outburst -of questions. As it was, she gave a little bow to her aunt, said "Good -evening, Miss Breezy," opened the door and nipped up the area steps into -the street. A little involuntary laugh floated behind her like the -petals of a rose. A prowling taxi caught her eye. She nodded and was in -before any one could say Jack Robinson,--if any one now remembers the -name of that mystic early Victorian. - -The address she gave was 22 Castleton Terrace, Bayswater. - -Mr. Fallaray.--The Savoy! - - - -IX - - -"My word," said Mrs. Rumbold, getting up from her knees and taking a pin -out of her mouth. "I never see anything like it before. It's my opinion -that you could 'old your own in that frock with any of the best, my -dear. It's so quiet--yet so compelling. The best of taste. If I see you -coming down the steps of the Ritz, I should nudge the person I was with -and say, 'Duke's daughter. French mother probably.'" - -"Thank you," said Lola. And that was exactly how she felt. Carried -forward on the current of her impatience, she didn't stop to ask herself -what was the use of going to the Savoy, of all places, alone,--the -danger, the absurdity. "I wonder if you'll be so kind as to fold up my -day dress, put it in the box and string it up. You're sure you'll be up -as late as half-past eleven? If so, it won't take me a moment to change -and I'll leave the evening dress here." - -"Oh, that'll be all right," said Mrs. Rumbold. "I shall be up, my dear. -The old man's going to a dinner and will come staggering back later than -that. He'll be a regular Mason to-night, bless him." And she stood back, -looked Lola all over with the greatest admiration and a certain amount -of personal pride. She was a good dressmaker, no doubt about it. An -awful lot of stuff had had to be taken out of that frock. It must have -been made for a woman with the shoulders of a rowing man. It wasn't for -her to ask what the little game was, to inquire why a lady's maid was -going out on the sly, looking like her mistress. She had her living to -make and dressmaking was a precarious livelihood in these times. "Have a -good evening, my dear," she said; "enjoy yourself. Only live once, yer -know." And added inwardly, "And I'll lay you'll manage to do yourself -pretty well,--a lot better than most, with that face and figure and the -style and all. Lord, but how you've come on since I see yer last. All -the zwar-zwar of the reg'ler thing, sweep-me-bob." - -The taxi was still waiting at the door, ticking up sixpences, but in -Lola's pocket was a little purse bulging with her savings. She turned at -the door. "Mrs. Rumbold," she said, and it might have been Lady Feo who -was speaking, "you certainly are one in a million." - -There was a sudden cry of despair. - -"Lord 'a' mercy, what's the trouble?" - -Lola had become herself again, a tragic, large-eyed self. "I can't go -like this," she said. "I have no evening cloak." The whole framework of -her adventure flapped like the sides of a tent in a high wind. - -"My dear!" cried Mrs. Rumbold. "Well, there's a nice lookout. What in -the world's to be done?" - -Fallaray.--The Savoy---- - -"Wait a second. I've got an idea." The woman with tousled hair made a -dart at a curtain which was stretched across one of the corners of her -workroom. She emerged immediately with something thin and black which -gleamed here and there with silver. "Put that on," she said. "I've just -made it for Mrs. Wimpole in Inverness Terrace. She won't be calling for -it until to-morrer. If you'll promise to bring it back safe----" - -All Lola's confidence returned and a smile of triumph came into her -face. "That will do nicely," she said, and placed herself to receive the -borrowed garment. A quick glance in the mirror showed her that if it -wasn't exactly the sort of thing that she would have chosen, it passed. - -"You're a brick, Mrs. Rumbold, a perfect brick. I can't tell you how -grateful I am." And she bent forward and touched the withered cheek with -her lips. One of these days she would do something for this hard-working -woman whose eldest boy sat legless in the back parlor,--something which -would relieve the great and persistent strain which followed her from -one plucky day to another. - -And then, pausing for a moment on the top of the steps in order to make -sure that there was no one in the street who could recognize -her--Queen's Road was only just round the corner--Lola ran down and put -her hand on the door of the taxi cab. - -"The Savoy," she said. - - - - -PART III - - - -I - - -Sir Peter Chalfont's cork arm had become one of the institutions of the -town. Long ago the grimness had gone out of everybody's laughter at the -tricks he played with it,--presenting it with the palm the wrong way, -making it squeak suddenly and wagging it about from the wrist as a -greeting to his friends. Every one had grown accustomed to his frequent -changes of gloves and his habit of appearing at dinner with those -dreadful stiff fingers in white buckskin. He had indeed trained the -thing to perform as though it were an animal and he could do almost -anything with it except tie a dress tie. That was beyond him. - -At quarter to eight on the evening of Lola's first dip into life, he -turned away from the telephone and presented himself to the man who had -been his batman during the last year of the War. He had had three since -the miracle of the Marne. He was rather bored because he had just been -told by the girl who had promised to dine with him that she didn't feel -like eating and he knew that meant that some one else had cropped up who -was more amusing than himself. He had a great mind to give the Savoy a -wide berth and walk round to Boodles and have dinner with the _Pall Mall -Gazette_. But on second thoughts the idea of accompanying his cold -salmon and cucumber with the accumulating mass of depressing evidence of -the world's unrest, as set forth in the evening paper, appalled him. -Charles was trying to edge his way back into Hungary. The Russian Reds -were emptying their poison all over the map. English miners had gone out -on strike and with a callousness altogether criminal had left the pumps -unmanned. Viviani had landed in the United States to endeavor to prove -to the new President that if he did not jerk the Senate out of Main -Street he would inevitably sentence Europe to death. And Lloyd George, -even to the amazement of those who knew him best, was continuing his -game of poker with Lenin and Trotsky. - -It couldn't be done. And so, his tie duly tied by the clumsy-fingered -man who had received lessons from a shop in the Burlington Arcade, the -gallant Peter left his rooms in Park Place and stood on the curb in St. -James's Street. Should he walk or drive? Should he try to raise a friend -equally at a loose end, or carry on alone? How he missed his dear old -father, who, until the day of his peaceful death, was always ready to -join him in a cheery dinner at the Marlborough or the Orleans or at one -of the hotels where he could see the pretty girls. After all, dining at -the Savoy was not such a lonely proceeding as it seemed. Among the -profiteers and the new rich there might be a familiar face. And there -was at any rate an orchestra. With a dump hat at an angle of forty-five -and a light overcoat over his dinner jacket, he was a mark for all the -prowling cabs which found business worse than usual. Two or three of -them knew this tall wiry man and had served in his Division. One of the -youngest of the Brigadier Generals in the British Army, he had worn his -brass hat as though it were the cap of a man with one pip; they loved -him for that and any day and any night would cheerfully have followed -him to hell. Many of them had called him "Beauty Chalfont," which had -made him uncomfortable. It was better than "Bloody" Chalfont or -"Butcher" Chalfont,--adjectives that had been rather too freely applied -to some of his brother Brigadiers. So far as the majority of passers-by -were concerned, this man to whom willing hands had gone up in salute and -who had turned out to be a born soldier was, like so many demobilized -officers all over the country, of no account, a nobody, his name and his -services forgotten. - -The pre-war cheeriness which had belonged to the Savoy was absent now. -Chorus ladies and Guards officers, baby-faced foreign office clerks and -members of the Bachelors, famous artists and dramatists and the -ubiquitous creatures who put together the musical potpourris of the -town, beautiful ladies of doubtful reputation and highly respectable -ones without quite so much beauty no longer jostled the traveling -Americans, tennis-playing Greeks and Indian rajahs in the foyer. -Chalfont marched in to find the place filled with wrongly dressed men -with plebeian legs and strange women who seemed to have been dug out of -the residential end of factory cities. Their pearls and diamonds were -almost enough to stir Bolshevism in the souls of curates. - -Shedding his coat and hat and taking a ticket from a flunkey, on whose -chest there was a line of ribbons, he looked across the long vista of -intervening space to the dining room. The band was playing "Avalon" and -a buzz of conversation went up in the tobacco smoke. What was the name -of that cheery little soul who had dined with him in March, 1914? March, -1914. He had been a happy-go-lucky Captain in the 21st Lancers in those -days, drawing a generous allowance from the old man and squeezing every -ounce of fun out of life. The years between had brought him up against -the sort of realities that he did not care to think about when left -without companionship and occupation. Two younger brothers dead and -nearly all his pals.--Just as he was about to go down the stairs and be -conducted to one of the small tables in the draught he saw a girl in a -black cloak with touches of silver on it standing alone, large-eyed, her -butter-colored hair gleaming in the light, and caught his breath. -"Jumping Joseph," he said to himself, "look at that," and was rooted to -the floor. - -It was Lola, as scared as a child in the middle of traffic, a rabbit -among a pack of hounds, asking herself, cold and hot by turns, what she -had done--oh, what--by coming to that place with no one to look after -her, wishing and wishing that the floor would open up and let her into a -tunnel which would lead her out to the back room of the nerve-wrung -dressmaker. Every passing man who looked her up and down and every woman -who turned her head over her shoulder added stone after stone to the -pile of her folly, so childish, so laughable, so stupendous. How could -she have been such a fool,--the canary so far away from the safety of -its cage. - -Chalfont looked again. "She's been let down by somebody," he thought. -"What sort of blighter is it who wouldn't break his neck to be on the -steps to meet such a--perfectly----All these cursed eyes, greedily -signaling. What's to be done?" - -And as he stood there, turning it all over, his chivalry stirred, Lola -came slowly out of her panic. If only Mrs. Rumbold had asked her with -whom she was going, if only she had had, somewhere in all the world, one -sophisticated friend to tell her that such a step as this was false and -might be fatal. The way out was to stand for one more moment and look as -though her escort were late, or had been obliged to go to the telephone, -and then face the fact that in her utter and appalling ignorance she had -made a mistake, slip away, drive back to that dismal Terrace and change -into her Cinderella clothes. Ecstasy approaching madness must have made -her suppose that all she had to do was to sail in to this hotel in Lady -Feo's frock and all the rest would follow,--that looking, as well as -feeling "a lady" now and loving like a woman, something would go out -from her soul--a little call--and Fallaray would rise and come to her. -Mr. Fallaray. The Savoy. They were far, far out of her reach. Her heart -was in her borrowed shoes. And then she became aware of Chalfont, met -his eyes and saw in them sympathy and concern and understanding. And -what was more, she knew this man. Yes, she did. He was no stranger; she -had seen him often,--that very day. It was a rescue! A friendly smile -curled up her lips. - -Chalfont maintained his balance. Training told. He gave it fifty -seconds--fifty extraordinary seconds--during which he asked himself, "Is -she--or not?" Deciding not by a unanimous vote, he went across to her -and bowed. "I'm awfully afraid that something must have happened. Can I -be of use to you?" - -"I'm longing for asparagus," said Lola in the manner of an old friend. - -"That's perfectly simple," said Chalfont, blinking just once. "I'm -alone, you're alone, and asparagus ought to be good just now." - -"Suppose we go in then," said Lola, buying the hotel, her blood dancing, -her eyes all free from fright. She was perfectly happy in the presence -of this man because she recognized in him immediately a modern version -of the Chevalier who had so frequently brought her bonbons to her room -at Versailles which overlooked the back yard of Queen's Road, Bayswater. - -"My name's Chalfont, Peter Chalfont." A rigid conventionality sat on his -shoulders. - -"I know," she said, and added without a moment's hesitation, "I am -Madame de Breze." And then she knew how she knew. How useful was the -Tatler. Before the War, during the War, after the War, the eyes of this -man had stared at her from its pages in the same spirit of protection. -That very afternoon she had paused at his photograph taken in hunting -kit, sitting on his horse beside the Prince of Wales, underneath which -was printed, "Sir Peter Chalfont, Bart. V. C. Late Brigadier -General,"--and somewhere among that crowd was Fallaray. - - - -II - - -As they went down the red-carpeted stairs and passed through what Peter -called "the monkey house," the people who had dined at a cheap -restaurant and now at the cost of a cup of coffee were there to watch -the menagerie followed Lola with eager eyes. Some of them recognized -Chalfont. But who was she? A chorus girl? No. A sister? He was certainly -not wearing a brotherly expression. A lady? Obviously, and one who could -afford not to wear a single jewel. What a refreshing contrast to the -wives of profiteers. And she was so young, so finished,--a Personality. -Even Grosvenor Bones, the man who made it his duty to know everybody and -supplied the _Daily Looking Glass_ with illiterate little paragraphs, -was puzzled and, like a dramatic critic who sees something really -original and faultless, startled, disconcerted. - -Feeling her own pulse as she passed through the avenue of stares, Lola -was amazed to find that her heart-beats were normal, that she was not in -the least excited or frightened or uncertain of herself any longer. She -felt, indeed--and commented inwardly on the fact--as though dinner at -the Savoy were part of her usual routine, and that Peter Chalfont was -merely Albert Simpkins or Ernest Treadwell in a better coat and cast in -a rarer mold. How Chalfont would have laughed if she had told him this. -She felt, as a matter of fact, like a girl who was playing a leading -part on the London stage as a dark horse, but who had in reality gained -enormous experience in a repertory company in the Provinces. She thanked -her stars that she had indulged in her private game for so long a time. - -The bandmaster, a glossy person with a roving and precocious eye, bent -double, violin and all, and signaled congratulations to Chalfont with -ears and eyes, eyebrows and mouth. He had the impertinence of a -successful jockey. A head waiter came to the entrance of the dining room -and washed his hands,--his face wearing his best bedside manner. "For -two, Sir Peter?" he asked, as though he were not quite sure that some -miracle might not break them into three. And Peter nodded. But Lola was -not to be hurried off to the first of the disengaged tables. Fallaray -was somewhere in the room and her scheme was, if possible, to sit at a -table well within his line of vision. She laid the tips of her fingers -on Chalfont's arm and inspected the room.--There was Fallaray, as -noticeable in that heterogeneous crowd as a Rodin figure among the -efforts of amateur sculptors. "That table," she said to the head waiter -and indicated one placed against a pillar. One or two of Chalfont's -friends S. O. S.'d to him as he followed the young, slim erect figure -across the maze. Luck with her once more, Lola found herself face to -face with Fallaray, only two tables intervening. She decided that the -charming old lady was his mother. The other had no interest for her. - -A thousand questions ran through Chalfont's head. Madame de -Breze.--Widow of one of the gallant Frenchmen who had been killed in the -War, or the wife, let down by her lover, of an elderly Parisian blood? -He would bet his life against the latter conjecture, and the first did -not seem to be possible because he had never seen any face so free from -grief, pain or suffering. De Breze. The name conveyed nothing. He had -never heard it before. It had a good ring about it. But how was it that -this girl talked English as well as his sister? She looked French. She -wore her dress like a Frenchwoman. There was something about the -neatness of her hair which Frenchwomen alone achieve. Probably educated -in England. He was delighted with her acceptance of the situation. That -was decidedly French. An English girl, even in these days, would either -have frozen him to his shoes or lent to the episode a forced note of -irregularity which would have made it tiresome and tasteless. - -It was not until after the asparagus had arrived that Lola succeeded in -catching Fallaray's eyes. They looked at her for a moment as though she -were merely a necessary piece of hotel decoration and wandered off. But -to her intense and indescribable joy, they returned and remained and -something came into them which showed her that he had focused them upon -her as a human being and a woman. She saw that he wore the expression of -a man who had suddenly heard the loud ringing of a bell, an alarm bell. -And then, having seen that his stare had been noticed, he never looked -again. - -The rustle of silk!--The rustle of silk! - -And presently, Chalfont being silent, she leant forward and spoke in a -low voice. Luckily the band was not playing a jazz tune but at the -request of some old-fashioned person Massenet's "Elegy." She said, "Sir -Peter, will you do something for me?" And he replied, "Anything under -the sun." "Well, then, will you introduce me to Mr. Fallaray before he -leaves the room? He's at a table just behind you. I admire him so much. -It would be a great--the greatest----" - -Her voice broke and a flush ran up to her hair, and something came into -her eyes that made them look like stars. - -Luckily Chalfont was not looking at her face. Her request was a large -order, and as usual when puzzled,--he was never disconcerted--he began -twisting about his comic cork hand. "Fallaray?" he said, and raised his -eyebrows. "Of course, I'd love to do it for you. I know him as well as -anybody else does, I suppose--I mean ordinary people. But he doesn't -remember me from Adam. He passed me to-night in the foyer, for instance, -and looked clean through my head. I had to put up my hand to see that I -hadn't left it at home. He's the only man, except the sweep who used to -come to our house when I was a kid, of whom I've ever been afraid. -However--you wish it and the thing must be done." And he gave her a -little bow. - -Lola could see that she had given her new friend a task from which he -would do almost anything to escape. After all, there was not much in -common between Fallaray, whose nose was at the grindstone, and Peter -Chalfont, who had nothing to do but kill time. But she must meet -Fallaray that night. It was written. Every man was a stepping-stone to -this one man who needed her so, but did not know her yet. Therefore, -with a touch of ruthlessness that came to her directly from her famous -ancestress, she thanked him and added, "It can be managed near the place -where you put your hat and coat." - -Chalfont was amused and interested and even perhaps a little astonished -at this pretty young thing who had the ways of a woman of the world. "I -agree with you," he said, "but----" and looked at the menu. - -Lola shook her head. "I hate buts. They are at the meat course and we've -only just begun. Dinner doesn't really interest you and I'm a mere -canary. The moment they rise from the table we can make a quick exit." -It was on the tip of her tongue to quote Simpkins and say "nick out." - -Chalfont grinned, pounced upon his roll and started to eat. "After all," -he said, "it will give me an admirable opportunity of inviting you to -supper. Keep an eye on the old birds and as soon as they show a -disposition to evacuate the situation we'll limber up and wait for them -in the foyer. He's a hero of yours. Is that the idea?" - -"Yes," she said simply. - -"Do you happen to know Lady Feo?" - -"Very well, indeed. She has been very kind to me. I like her." - -Chalfont shifted his shoulders. That was quite enough. "Are you going to -give me the whole of the evening?" he asked. "Or will that escort of -yours show up sooner or later and claim you?" - -"He's as good as dead, as far as I'm concerned. What do you suggest?" - -He bent forward eagerly. "I dunno. A show of sorts. Not the theater. I -can't stand that. We might drop into one of the Reviews or see what they -are doing at the Coliseum. I love the red-nosed comedian who falls over -a pin and breaks a million plates in an agony of economical terror. Do -you like that sort of thing?" - -Lola's experience of Reviews and Variety entertainments was limited to -Hammersmith and the suburbs. "You're going to do something for me," she -said, "so I am perfectly ready to do something for you. I'm rather keen -about give and take." - -Which was good hearing for Chalfont. He hadn't met many women who -understood that golden rule. He could see even then that the little de -Breze was going to play ducks and drakes with his future plans, put him -to a considerable amount of inconvenience and probably keep him hanging -about town,--for which he had very little use now that the sun was -shining. Already Lola's attraction had begun its disturbing effect. He -was on the verge of becoming brother of a valet, a butler, two footmen -and the Lord knew how many of the hobble-de-hoys of Queen's Road, -Bayswater. - -The fish came and they both fell to,--Lola watching Fallaray's table -keenly. "I saw a rather decent photograph of you in the _Tatler_ -to-day," she said. It might have been Feo who spoke. "You won the point -to point, didn't you?" - -"I did," said Chalfont. "But I should have been beaten by the Boy if I -hadn't had a better horse. He rode like the devil." - -"You don't think that point to points are rather playing the fool just -now, then?" The question came quietly but had the effect of making -Chalfont suspend his fork in mid-air. - -"Yes. I do. But under the present system what is the ordinary plain man -to do but stand aside and watch our political muddlers mess everything -up? I was asked to rejoin and take over a district in Ireland. Not me. I -could see myself raising Cain in about ten minutes and washed out at the -end of a week. Soldiers aren't required in Ireland." - -"No?" - -"No. Nor policemen, nor machine guns. Ireland stands in need of a little -man with an Irish accent and the soul of Christ." - -Lola rose to her feet. Fallaray had done the same thing and was bending -over his mother. - -And so Chalfont with, it must be confessed, a slightly rueful glance at -his plate, told the waiter to give his bill to his chief, and followed -Madame de Breze along the lane between the tables and up the long path -of the "monkey house." And presently, when Fallaray gave his number to -the flunkey and waited for his coat and hat, Chalfont carried out his -orders. He went forward. "How do you do?" he said. "Wonderful weather." -It was a little lame. - -Fallaray did not recognize the speaker except as a man who obviously had -been a soldier. A left hand had been presented. The other was eloquent -enough. "How are you?" he replied. "Yes, it _is_ wonderful weather." - -And then Chalfont made the plunge. "I want to introduce you, if I may, -to one of our Allies who admires you very much, Madame de Breze--Mr. -Fallaray." - -Fallaray turned. From the little eager hand that nestled into his own -Lola sent a message of all the hero-worship and adoration that possessed -her soul and all the desire to serve and love that had become the one -overwhelming passion of her life. But neither spoke. - -A moment later she was standing with Peter Chalfont, watching Fallaray -on his way out with the two little ladies.--Her heart was fluttering -like the wings of a bird. - -But half-way through the evening, after having been swept away by -Tschaikowsky's "Francesca da Rimini" and the Fantasy from "Romeo and -Juliet" and stirred deeply by Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries," Fallaray -underwent a strange and disconcerting experience. Leaving his place -between his mother and old Lady Ladbroke, he went to smoke a cigarette -in the foyer of the hall during the intermission. The music had gone to -his brain and driven out of it for the moment the anxieties that beset -him. All the vibrations of that wonderful orchestra flew about him like -a million birds and the sense of sex that he had got from Lola's touch -ran through his veins. - -He went through the swing-doors and out onto the steps of the building. -It was one of those wonderful nights which come sometimes in April and -touch the city with magic. It was like the advance guard of June -bringing with it the warmth and the scents of that exquisite month. The -sky was clear and almost Italian, and the moonlight lay like snow on the -roofs. It cast long shadows across the street. Fallaray looked up at the -stars and a new and curious thrill of youth ran through him and a sort -of impatience at having missed something--he hardly knew what. Wherever -he looked he seemed to see two wide-apart eyes filled with adoration and -longing and a little red mouth half open. "De Breze," he said to -himself. "De Breze." And the name seemed to hold romance and to carry -his thoughts out of London, out of the present and back to the times of -beflowered garments and powdered heads, of minuets and high red heels. - -And as he stood there, far away from the bewilderment and futility of -Parliament, a car drove up to the hall and two women got out. They were -Mrs. Malwood and Feo and they were dressed in country clothes--the -curious country clothes affected by them both. Mrs. Malwood, who was -laughing and excited, passed Fallaray without noticing him and entered -the building. But Feo drew up short in front of him, amazed at his -expression. "Good Lord, Arthur," she said, "what are you doing here and -what on earth are you thinking about?" - -Music and the stars and Lola were in his eyes as he looked at her. "I -thought you were in the country," he said. - -"I was. I shall be again in an hour or two. In the middle of dinner I -suddenly remembered that a protege of mine, Leo Kirosch, was to sing -here to-night. So I dashed up. He's in the second part of the program, -so I shall be in time to hear him. It entirely rotted the party, but -that couldn't be helped." - -She had never seen that look in Fallaray's eyes before and was -intrigued. It had never been brought to life by her. Could it be -possible that this Quixote, this St. Anthony, had looked at last upon -the flesh pots? What fun if he had! How delicious was the mere vague -idea of Fallaray, of all men, being touched by anything so ordinary and -human as love, and how vastly amusing that she, who had worked herself -into a sort of half belief that she was attracted by this young Polish -singer, should now stand face to face with the man to whom she was tied -by law, though by no other bonds. The dash up from the country was worth -it even though she had risen unsatisfied from dinner and missed her -coffee and cognac.... Or was it that she herself, having dropped from -the clouds, and looking as she knew she did, more beautiful and fresh -than usual because of her imaginary love affair with this long-haired -youth who sang like a thrush, had brought this unaccustomed look into -her husband's eyes?... How very amusing! - -"Do you mean to say that having only driven down this afternoon to the -country, you've come all the way up again just to hear two or three -songs?" - -"I do," she said. "Mad, isn't it? 'That crazy woman Feo on the rampage -again.' Is that what you're thinking?" - -"Something like that," he answered, and smiled at her. He felt queerly -and charmingly young that night and lenient and rather in sympathy with -madness. The Cromwellianism in which he had wrapped himself had fallen -temporarily from his shoulders. He put his hand under her elbow and -brought her up to the top step on a level with himself. - -"My God," thought Lady Feo, "the man's alive for once. He tingles. I -_must_ be looking well." What did it matter if Leo Kirosch was singing -and she would miss his songs? It was much better sport to stand on the -steps of that old building and flirt with her husband. She took his arm -and stood close against him and looked up into his face with her most -winning smile. "It gave me the shock of my life to see you here," she -said. "I didn't know that you had a penchant for these suburban orgies. -Who are you with?" - -"My mother and Aunt Betsy." - -Under any other circumstances Feo would have thrown back her head and -laughed derisively. Those two old birds. Instead of which she snuggled a -little closer just to see the effect. It was ages since she had treated -this man to anything in the nature of familiarity, in fact it was the -first time since that night when she had made him kiss her because his -profile and his tennis playing had obsessed her. - -"After you've taken them home," she said, "why not motor back with us? -It's a gorgeous night, and the Eliots' cottage is high up on a range of -hills almost within reaching distance of the stars." - -Her grotesque sense of humor carried her away. How immense it would be -to tempt this man out of the stony path of duty and see what he would -do. What a story for her little friends! What screams of mirth she could -evoke in her recital of so amazing an event, especially as she could -dress it all up as she alone knew so well how to do! And then to be able -to add to it all the indignant broken English of Kirosch at finding -himself deserted. He had promised to sing to her that night. What a -frightfully funny story. - -For a moment or two, with the intoxication of music and of those -wide-apart eyes still upon him, Fallaray stood closer to his wife than -he had ever been. It seemed to him that she had grown softer and sweeter -and he was surprised and full of wonder, until he remembered that she -had come to see Kirosch, whom she called her protege--and then he -understood. - -Mrs. Malwood came out and luckily broke things up. "He's singing," she -said. "Aren't you coming in? Good heavens, Feo, what the deuce are you -playing at? You've dragged me up and ruined everything, only to miss the -very thing you seemed so keen to hear. What is the idea?" She recognized -Fallaray and said, "Oh, it's you." - -And he bowed and got away--that kink in Feo's nature was all across her -face like a birthmark. - -And when Feo looked again, she saw in Fallaray's eyes once more the old -aloofness, the old dislike. And she laughed and threw back her head. -"_Cherchez la femme_," she said. "One of these days I'll get you to tell -me why you looked like that." And she disappeared with Mrs. Malwood to -smile down on Kirosch from her seat near the platform. - -And Fallaray remained out under the stars, his intoxication all gone. -Nowhere could he see and nowhere did he wish to see those wide-apart -eyes with their adoration. The tingle of that little hand had left him. -And just as he turned to go back into the building a newspaper boy -darted out to a side street with a shrill raucous cry, "Speshall. Mines -Floodin'. Riots in Wales. Speshall." - - - -III - - -The tears that blinded her eyes had gone when Chalfont came back from -the cloakroom. He saw on Lola's face a smile that made him think of -sunlight on a bank of primroses. - -But they didn't go to the Coliseum, after all. It so happened that just -as they were about to leave the Savoy, Chalfont was pounced upon by a -little woman, the sight of whom made Lola long to burst into a laugh. -She was amazingly fat, almost as fat indeed as one of those pathetic -women who go round with circuses and sit in a tent all by themselves -dressed in tinsel and present an unbelievable leg to gaping yokels and -say, "Pinch it, dearie, and see for yourself." Her good-natured face, -with eyes as blue as birds' eggs, ran down into three double chins. It -was crowned with a mass of hair dyed a brilliant yellow, the roots of -which grew blackly like last year's leaves under spring's carpet. With -an inconceivable lack of humor she was dressed like a flapper. She was a -comic note in a tragic world. "Oh, hello, Peter," she said. "You bad -boy, you've deserted me," and then she looked at Lola with a beaming -smile of appreciation and added, "No wonder." - -More than a little annoyed, because the one thing that he most wanted -was to keep Lola to himself, Peter presented his cork hand. "I've been -in the country," he said. "I'm awfully sorry I had to miss your party. -Lady Cheyne--Madame de Breze." - -"There, I knew you were French. I've been betting on it ever since you -came in. We could see you two from our table." She waved her hand -towards a group of six or seven people who were standing at the top of -the stairs. "Come along home with me now," she said. "We're going to -have some music. I've got a new Russian violinist--you needn't be -afraid, he's been thoroughly disinfected--and a dear thing who sings the -roof off. I can't pronounce her name. It's a cross between a sneeze and -an oath. I believe she comes from Czecho-Slovakia. Also I've got Alton -Cartridge, the poet. He's going to read one of his latest effusions. -He's the great futurist, you know. That is, he doesn't bother himself -about rhymes and not very much about reason. Why don't you both come?" - -Chalfont looked quickly at Lola and signaled, "For God's sake, no." - -So she said, "I should love to." The name and fame of Lady Cheyne was -well known to her through the medium of the "Letters of Evelyn." - -"That's very sweet of you, my dear. One hundred Kensington Gore. -Memorize it, because I know that Peter will forget. He always does. We -can't raise a car between us so we're all going in taxis. See you later -then." - -She squeezed Lola's hand, nodded roguishly at Peter and bounced away to -join her friends, watched hypnotically by people on their way out who, -although she was one of London's landmarks, had never seen her before. - -Chalfont was abominably disappointed. It would have been so jolly to -have had Lola all to himself. "Wasn't that rather unkind of you?" he -asked. - -"Yes," said Lola, "it was, but I couldn't resist the chance to see Lady -Cheyne at home and discover if all the stories about her are true. I'm -so sorry, but after all we can do the Coliseum another night." - -"Oh, well, then, that's all right." He brightened up considerably. -"Probably you will be more amused at number One Hundred than you would -have been at the Coliseum. Poppy manages to surround herself with all -the latest freaks." He led her out, captured a cab and gave the man the -address. - -"Tell me about her," said Lola. "You know her very well, it seems." - -"No, I don't. I've only met her twice. She arrives at Christian names -within half an hour. She calls herself the mother of thousands, and is, -although she's never had a child of her own. Nobody knows who she was -before she married Sir William Cheyne, the contractor, but it's -generally believed that she's the daughter of a country parson brought -up between the Bible and the kitchen garden. She tells everybody that -she was very pretty as a girl. It's her horticultural training that -makes her look like a cauliflower. The old man died about ten years ago -and left her very well off. She's really a remarkable little soul, -greatly to be respected. Every struggling artist who has ever found his -way into London has been financed by her. She has a heart of gold and -during the War she was the chairman of one of the soldiers' -entertainment committees. I shall never forget seeing her behind the -lines, surrounded by muddy Tommies just relieved. She was a prime -favorite out there and was known as Poppy throughout the British Army. -How long are you going to be in London?" He switched suddenly to -personalities. - -"For the rest of the season," said Lola, "and then my plans are -uncertain. I may go down to Buckinghamshire or I may spend July at -Dinard. It isn't settled yet." She had heard Lady Feo talk over both -places with Mrs. Malwood. - -"I wonder if I've met your husband about London?" - -"I am a widow," said Lola. Her tone was a little sad but, at the same -time, it was filled with resignation. - -That was something to know. There was no further information -forthcoming, however, and as Peter was one of those men who had a great -respect for fourth walls, he left it at that. - -They were the last to arrive. Their cab had stalled three times in -Piccadilly and coughed badly through Knightsbridge. Every window of -number One Hundred was alight and as they entered the hall a high -soprano voice was sending piercing vibrations all through the house. A -long oak settle in the hall was covered with strange coats and stranger -hats and there were queer people sitting on the stairs. The drawing-room -was obviously overflowing. - -Lola picked her way upstairs, Chalfont following closely. Among these -people who conveyed the impression of having slept in their clothes--Art -is always a little shy of cold water--Lola felt a sense of distress. -Democratic in her ability to make friends with all honest members of the -proletariat, like those in the servants' sitting room in Dover Street, -she felt hopelessly aristocratic when it came to affection with dandruff -on its velvet collar. - -The drawing-room, wide and lofty, was one great square of bad taste, -filled, overfilled, with what America aptly calls "junk." Spurious -Italian furniture jostled with imitation English oak. Huge pieces of -fake tapestry hung on the walls side by side with canvases of extremely -self-conscious nudes. Early Victorian whatnots covered with silver -apostle spoons jostled with Tottenham Court Road antiques. All the lamp -shades on the numerous electric lamps were red and heavy, so that the -light crept through. To add to the conglomeration of absurdities the -whole place reeked with burning josh sticks. A woman who dyes her hair a -brilliant yellow invariably burns something on the altar of renewed -optimism. The only thing that rang true in the room was the grand piano -and that was kept in tune. - -Sprawling on divans which were ranged around the walls Lola could make -out the forms of men and women of all sizes, ages and nationalities. The -men had more hair than the women. There must have been at least sixty -people present, among whom Peter Chalfont looked like a greyhound and -Lola like an advertisement of somebody's soap. A tremendous woman, -standing with her feet wide apart like a sea captain in a gale, or a -self-conscious golfer on the first tee, was singing Carmen's most -flamboyant song. She was accompanied by a little person of the male -gender whose lank black locks flapped over his eyes. They seemed to be -competing in making the most noise because when the pianist attempted to -overwhelm the voice with all the strength that he possessed, the singer -filled herself with breath, gripped the floor with her well-trained -feet, and sent forth sounds that must have been excessively trying to -the Albert Memorial. - -At the end of this shattering event Lady Cheyne bubbled forward and took -Lola's hand. "What do you do, my dear?" she asked, as though she were a -performing dog to be put through her tricks. To which Lola replied, -"Nothing. Nothing at all," with rock-like firmness. - -So the exhibitor of human vanities turned persuasively to Peter. "But -you whistle, don't you?" she asked. And Peter with a stiffening spine -replied, "Yes, but only for taxis." - -"In that case," said Lady Cheyne, genuinely astonished that neither of -the new arrivals showed any eagerness to jump at her suggestion to -advertise, "find a corner somewhere. A little protegee of mine is going -to dance for us. She is an interpreter of soul moods. So wonderful and -inspiring. You'll love it, I'm sure." - -Obeying orders, Peter led Lola into a distant corner, eyed by various -artists who labeled him "Soldier" and dismissed him loftily. The passing -of Lola sent a quiver through them and they were ready for the first -available opportunity to attitudinize about her chair. At a sign from -Lady Cheyne the little pianist commenced to play one of Heller's -"Sleepless Nights" and a very thin girl, wrapped in a small piece of -chiffon, dropped into the middle of the room like a beam of moonlight. - -"A spring onion," said Chalfont, in a whisper, "newly plucked from the -warm earth." The burst of applause drowned Lola's flutter of laughter. -The interpretation of soul moods resolved itself, of course, into the -usual series of prancings and high jumps, scuttlings round and roguish -bendings, a final leap into the air and a collapse upon the floor. - -And so the evening unwound itself. There were violin solos by men in a -frenzy of false ecstasy, piano solos by women who put that -long-suffering instrument through every conceivable form of torture, -readings of nebulous drivel by the poet Cartridge in a high-pitched -minor-canon voice, and recitations by women without restraint or -humor,--disciples of the new poetry, which Chalfont, quoting from one of -the precocious members of the Bachelors' Club, called "Loose Verse." - -And then came supper, a welcome event for which all those sixty people -had been waiting. This was served in the dining room, another large and -eccentric apartment where an embittered man manipulated the punch bowl -and was in great request. As soon as she had seen all her guests fully -occupied with chicken salad and fish croquettes, Lady Cheyne returned to -the deserted drawing-room where she found Chalfont and Lola in deep -conversation. She burst upon them like a hand grenade, crying, "Aren't -they darlings? Every one a genius and all of them hungry. They come to -me like homing pigeons and I do my best to get them placed. Always I -have here one or two of the great impressarios,--agents, you know, and -sometimes I achieve the presence of an actor-manager. But Shakespeare is -out of fashion now and so all my Romeos and Juliets stand a poor chance. -I often sigh for dear Sir Herbert who came here for what he called -'atmosphere and local color.' You must come again, my dear. Peter will -be very glad to bring you, I'm sure, and I shall be delighted to have -you for my week-end parties. I have a place at Whitecross, Bucks. The -garden runs down to the Fallaray place, you know." - -From that point on, that big point, Lola ceased to listen. - -The whole evening had been filled with amazing sensations. Panic, the -sudden switch to reassurance, the excitement of meeting Chalfont, the -sweeping joy of touching Fallaray's hand and the knowledge that having -broken through the hoop she could now continue to emerge from Dover -Street with her new and eager companion to serve an apprenticeship for -her final role. She had lived a year in an evening. But there was still -another sensation lying in wait for her. The moment had come when she -must return unseen to Castleton Terrace and get back to Dover Street in -good time to reassume the part of lady's maid so that she might not be -caught by the housekeeper and reported,--a chance for which Miss Breezy -was eagerly waiting. And as she sat unconscious of Lady Cheyne's babble -and the buzz of conversation which drifted in from the dining room, she -switched on her brain. - -How, in the name of all that was wonderful, was she to give Chalfont the -slip. That was the new problem to solve; because, of course, he would -naturally insist on seeing her home in the ordinary course of events. If -he had thought about it at all, she knew that he must have imagined that -she was staying either at the Ritz, the Carlton or the Berkeley, or that -she was living in one of the smaller houses in Curzon Street, Half Moon -Street or Norfolk Street, Park Lane. The jagged end of panic settled -upon her once more and her hands grew icy. It was utterly essential to -her future plans that Chalfont should remain in complete ignorance of -her identity. He must be used by her during the remainder of the season. -He must bring her again to this house. Lady Cheyne had become an -important factor in her scheme because the garden of her country house -ran down to Chilton Park. It was to Chilton Park that Fallaray loved to -go alone for the week-end and wander about, gaining refreshment for his -tired brain; and always it had seemed to Lola, when she had dared to -look into the future, that this place, standing high up on the ridge of -hills above the vale of Aylesbury, backed by a great beech forest and -landmarked by the white cross that had been cut by the Romans, was the -first milestone on her road to love and to the fulfillment of the dream -which had held her all those years. - -The problem of her escape and her Cinderella flight became more and more -pressing. What fib could she invent to tell Chalfont? Without any doubt -he would ask her for permission to call. He would want to know her -telephone number and her address. In his eye already there was the -Simpkins look, the Ernest Treadwell expression and, but for his innate -chivalry and breeding, she knew that he would have given tongue to some -of the things which she could see at the back of his eyes. It was past -eleven. She had heard the clock in the hall strike just now. - -She began to rehearse a series of scenes. She saw herself rise and say, -"I must go now. A thousand thanks for all that you have done for me this -evening. Will you please ask Lady Cheyne if I may have a taxi?" She saw -herself standing on the doorstep, the taxi waiting, with Chalfont -assuming that he was to play the cavalier and eventually stand -bareheaded, holding her hand, opposite the shabby little villa in -Castleton Terrace. Which would never do. Madame de Breze did not live -anywhere near Queen's Road, Bayswater. - -She saw herself driven by Chalfont to the Ritz or the Carlton, escorted -by him to the lift where he would wait to see the last of her as she was -taken up to the rooms that she did not possess. That also was -impossible. Great heavens, what was she to do? Trying again, her hands -icier than ever, she saw Chalfont with growing incredulity listening to -cock-and-bull stories which ran like this: - -"I don't want you to see me home. As a matter of fact I'm very -old-fashioned." Or, "We must say good night here. I'm staying with a -puritanical aunt who will be sure to ask me who brought me home and when -I say, 'Sir Peter Chalfont' her answer will be 'I didn't know you knew -Sir Peter Chalfont. Where did you meet him?' And then I shall have to -tell the story of how you picked me up. Can you imagine the -result?"--And this was hopeless because, of course, Peter would say, -"How in the name of all that's marvelous will your good old aunt know -who brings you home? Good old aunts haven't got to know the truth. -Besides, if it comes to that, you can drop me about ten doors from the -house and then go on alone. It's perfectly easy, and it's done every -day." And who, after all, was this aunt? Miss Breezy, the housekeeper. - -Phew! - -And then came an inspiration. "I'm very hungry," she said aloud. "I -begin to remember that dinner was a little unsatisfactory." She laughed -and Peter laughed. "But I must go and powder my nose. Please don't -bother, Lady Cheyne. I'll find my way and rejoin you in a moment." - -She picked up the cloak which she had brought into the drawing-room, -threw at Chalfont a smile of the most charming camaraderie, touched Lady -Cheyne's arm in a way that asked for friendship and left the -drawing-room. With one quick look at the deserted hall with all its -strange coats and stranger hats, she made for the front door, opened it, -closed it behind her stealthily and ran down the stone path which led to -the street. The theater traffic was all headed towards High Street, -Kensington. There was not a vacant taxi to be seen. It would not do to -stand about in front of the house, so the little Cinderella who had not -waited for the magic hour of twelve and had taken good care not to leave -her crystal slipper behind her ran up the street to the first turning -and stood quivering with excitement and glee beneath a friendly lamp -post. A little laugh floated into the muggy air. - -"Yes, it's a funny world, ain't it?" - -It was a Bobby who had sidled up from the shadow of a wall and towered -above her, with a sceptical grin about his mouth. - -Instantly a new thought came into Lola's head. "What would Lady Feo do?" -She gave it five seconds and turned coolly, calmly and graciously to the -arm of the law,--a strong and obviously would-be familiar arm. This -girl--running about alone in evening dress--at that time of night. - -"I told my car to wait here," she said. "Evidently there has been some -mistake. Will you be good enough to call me a cab?" - -A hand swept up to the peak of the helmet. "Nothing simpler, Madam." - -By the grace of God and the luck that follows drunkards, a taxi was -discharging a fare halfway down the road. The ex-sergeant of the Sussex -regiment put two fingers into his mouth. With a new interest in life the -cab made a wide turn and came up not without style, but with a certain -amount of discretion, because of the uniform which could be seen beneath -the lamp post. - -The Bobby opened the door. There was admiration in his eyes. "A good -fairy, ma'am," he said. - -And Lola paused and looked up into his face,--a man face, with a big -moustache and rather bristling eyebrows, a dent in a firm chin and the -mark of shrapnel on the left cheek bone. "A very good fairy," she said. -"You'll never know how good. Thanks, most awfully." - -And once more the hand flicked to the brim of the helmet as Lola in an -undertone gave her address to the driver. Not even the Bobby must see -the anti-climax which would be brought about by such an address as -Castleton Terrace. - - ---- - -A scrawny black cat rose and arched its back as Lola, telling the taxi -man to wait, ran up the steps. One of those loose bells that jangle -indiscreetly woke the echoes in the sleeping street, and the door was -opened by the invincible Mrs. Rumbold, tired-eyed, with yawn marks all -over her face. "Well, here you are, dearie," she said, as cheerful as -usual, "absobally-lootely to the minute. The old man ain't turned up -yet. But you're not going to keep the taxi waiting, are you?" - -"Yes," said Lola. - -"Gor blimey." The comment was a perfectly natural one under the -circumstances. - -And while Lola changed back again into the day clothes of the lady's -maid, Mrs. Rumbold lent a willing hand and babbled freely. It was good -to have some one to speak to. Her legless son had been put to bed two -hours before, asking himself, "Have they forgotten?" - -Finally the inevitable question, which Mrs. Rumbold, for all her lessons -in discretion, simply could not resist. "Where have yer bin, dearie?" - -And Lola said, "The Savoy. I dined with a knight in shining armor with a -white cross on his chest." - -"Oh," said Mrs. Rumbold, "he was going on to a fancy ball, I suppose. -Lord, how these boys love to dress themselves up." But a lurking -suspicion of something that was not quite right edged its way into that -good woman's thoughts. What was little Lola Breezy from the shop round -the corner doing with a gent as 'ad enough money to dine at the Savoy -and sport about in old-time costumes? "Well, of course, as I said -before, you can only live once. But watch your step, dearie. Lots of -banana skins about." - -And Lola threw her arms round the woman's neck and kissed her warmly. -"Fate has swept the pavement for me," she said, once more as Feo would -have spoken. "I shall not make any slip." - - - -IV - - -Ernest Treadwell faced her at the bottom of the steps, and beneath the -peak of his flabby cap his eyes were filled with fright. - -"Is anything the matter with Father or Mother?" - -"No," he said. - -"Why do you look like that, then?" Her hand fell away from his coat. If -there was nothing wrong with her parents---- - -He edged her away from the cab and spoke quickly, without the usual -stammer and timidity. He was laboring under a passion of apprehension. -It made him almost rude. "I came this way round from the Tube and saw -you get out of this cab dressed up like a--a lady. What are you doing? -Where've you been?" He caught her by the wrist, excited by a sense of -impending evil. Oh, God, how he loved this girl! - -And Lola remembered this, although her brain was filled with pictures of -the Savoy, of Chalfont and of Fallaray. Irritation, in which was mingled -a certain degree of haughtiness, was dropped immediately. She knew that -she had always been enthroned in this boy's heart. She must respect his -emotion. - -"Don't worry about me, Ernie," she said, soothingly. "Lady Feo gave me -the dress. I changed into it at Mrs. Rumbold's and brought it back for -her to work on again. It isn't quite right." - -"But where could you go to wear a thing like that--and the cloak? You -looked so--so unlike----" He could only see her as she used to be behind -the shop counter and out for walks with him. - -And Lola gave a little reassuring laugh because an answer was not ready. -If instead of Ernest Treadwell the man who held her up had been -Simpkins! "One of the girls had two stalls for the St. James's--her -brother's in the box office--and so we both dressed up and went. It was -great fun." Why did these men force her into lying? She took her hand -away. - -"Oh," he said, "I see," his fear rising like a crow and taking wings. - -"And now if you've finished playing the glaring inquisitor, I'll say -good night." She gave him her hand again. - -Covered with the old timidity, he remained where he stood and gazed. -There was something all about her, a glow, a light; a look in her eyes -that he had put there in his dreams. "Can't I go with you to Dover -Street?" - -Why not? Yes, that might be good, in case Simpkins should be waiting. -"Come along then. You've made me late. Tell him where to go." - -The cab turned into Queen's Road and as it passed the narrow house with -the jeweler's shop below--all in darkness now--Lola leaned forward and -kissed her hand to it. Her father with the glass in his eyes, the ready -laugh, the easy-going way, the confidence in her; her capable mother, a -little difficult to kiss, peeping out of a shell; her own old room so -full of memories, the ground in which she grew. They were slipping -behind. They had almost been specks on the horizon during all that -eventful night, during which she had found her wings. And this Treadwell -boy, his feet in a public library, his soul among the stars, such -clothes and such an accent.--And now there were Chalfont and Lady Cheyne -and--Fallaray? No, not yet. But he had touched her hand and heard the -songs of birds. - -"Lola, it hurts me now you've gone. I hate to pass the shop. There's -nothing to do but"--he knew the word and tumbled it out--"yearn." If -only he might have held her hand, say halfway to the house that he -hated. - -"Is that a new cap, Ernie? Take it off. You don't look like a poet. -Nothing to do? Have you forgotten your promise to read and learn? You -can't become a Masefield in a day!" - -He put his hands up to his face and spoke through sudden sobs. "With you -away I shall never become anything, any time. Come back, Lola. Nothing's -the same now you're away." - -And she gave him her hand, poor boy. And he held it all too tight, like -a drowning man, as indeed he felt that he was. Since Dover Street had -come into life he hadn't written a line. The urge had gone. Ambition, so -high before, had fallen like an empty rocket. Lola,--it was for her that -he had worked his eyes to sightlessness far into all those nights. - -"This will never do," she said. Inspiration--she could give him that, -though nothing else--was almost as golden as love. He was to be Some -One,--a modern Paul Brissac. She needed that. And she refired him as the -cab ran on, rekindled the cold stove and set the logs ablaze. Work, -work, study, feel, express, eliminate, temper down. Genius could be -crowded out by weeds like other flowering things. - -And as the cab drew up the hand was raised to burning lips. But the -shame of standing aside while the driver was paid--that added a very big -log. - -"Good night, Poet." - -"Good night, Princess." (Oh-h, that was Simpkins's word.) - -Dover Street--and the area steps. - - - - -PART IV - - - -I - - -For a Marquis he was disconcertingly hairy. So much so that even those -fast diminishing people who still force themselves to believe that a -title necessarily places men on a high and ethereal plane were obliged -to confess that Feo's father might have been any one,--a mere -entomologist for instance, bland, concentrated and careless of -appearance, who pottered about in the open after perfectly superfluous -insects and forgot that such a thing as civilization existed. He had the -appearance indeed of a man who sleeps in tents, scorns to consult a -looking-glass and cuts his own hair with a pair of grass clippers at -long intervals. On a handsome and humorous face, always somehow -sun-tanned, white wiry hairs sprouted everywhere. A tremendous -moustache, all akimbo, completely covered his mouth and spread along -each cheek almost to his ears, from which white tufts protruded. The -clean-cut jaw was shaved as high as the cheek bones, which were left, -like a lawn at the roots of a tree, to run wild. Deep-set blue eyes were -overhung by larky bushes and the large fine head exuded a thick thatch -of obstreperous white stuff that was unmastered by a brush. And as if -all this were not enough, there was a small cascade under the middle of -the lower lip kept just long enough to bend up and bite in moments of -deep calculation. There may have been hairs upon his conscience too, -judging by his exquisite lack of memory. - -His was, nevertheless, a very old title and a long line of buried -Marquises had all done something, good and bad, to place the name of -Amesbury in the pages of history. Rip Van Winkle, as most people called -the present noble Lord, had done good and bad things too, like the rest -of us,--good because his heart was kind, and bad from force of -circumstances. If he had inherited a fine fortune with his father's -shoes instead of bricks and mortar mortgaged from cellar to ceiling, his -might have been a different story and not one unfortunately linked up -with several rather shady transactions. At fifty-five, however, life -found him still abounding in optimism on the nice allowance granted to -him by Fallaray, and always on the lookout, like all Micawbers, for -something to turn up. - -He had driven the large brake to the station to meet Feo and her party -who were on their way down for the week-end. His temporary exile at -Chilton Park, brought about by a universal disinclination to honor his -checks, had been a little dull. He was delighted at the prospect of -seeing people again, especially Mrs. Malwood. He was fond of Angoras and -liked to hear them purr. So with a rather seedy square felt hat over one -eye and a loose overcoat of Irish homespun over his riding kit, he -clambered down from the high box, saw that the groom was at the horses' -heads and strolled into the station to talk over the impending strike of -the Triple Alliance with the station master,--the parlor Bolshevist of -Princes Risborough. An express swooped through the station as he stood -on the platform and made a parachute of his overcoat. The London train -was not due for fifteen minutes. - -Tapping on the door of Mr. Sparrow's room, he entered to find that -worthy exulting over the morning paper, his pale, tubercular face -flushed with excitement. The headlines announced that "England faces -revolution. Mines flood as miners steal coal and await with confidence -the entire support of allied unions. Great Britain on the edge of a -precipice." - -"All wrong," said Rip Van Winkle quietly. "Panicky misinterpretation of -the situation, Sparrow,--much as you desire the opposite." - -The station master whipped round, his fish-like eyes strangely magnified -by the strong glasses in his spectacles. "What makes yer say that, m' -Lord?" he asked, even at that moment flattered at the presence of a -Marquis in his office. "Labor has England by the throat." - -"England has Labor by the seat of the pants, you should say, Sparrow. -Take my word for it, the strike is not only doomed to eventual failure, -however the fluctuations go, but the Labor movement will grow less and -less terrorist in its methods from this day onwards." - -Mr. Sparrow threw back his head and laughed loudly,--showing an -incomplete collection of very disastrous teeth. "Well, there won't be a -damned train running by this time Monday," he said. - -"I'll bet you a thousand oak apples to one there will," replied Lord -Amesbury, "and I'll tell you why. Every sane and law-abiding Englishman, -from the small clerk to the most doddering duke, has begun to organize -and this mighty revolution of yours is already as dead as mutton." - -"Oh, is that so?" Mr. Sparrow laughed again. - -"That is so. You see, Sparrow, you Labor gentlemen, talking -paradoxically, have got hold of the wrong end of the stick, not merely -in this country but all over the world. You have been the bullies of the -school and for a considerable number of years you have made our -politicians stiff with fright. They have licked your boots and given way -to you whenever you demanded higher wages. They pampered and petted you -all through the War, from which you emerged with swollen heads and far -too many pianos. When history turns its cold eye upon you, you will be -summed up as a set of pretty dirty blackguards who did less to win the -War than all the dud shells piled into a heap. You slacked, grumbled, -threatened and held up governments for wages out of all proportion to -your work. You proved the possession of criminal as well as unpatriotic -instincts and you finally showed yourselves up in your true light when -you deserted the mines and took the pumpers away. There isn't any word -in any dictionary to define the sort of indignation which that dastardly -and wanton action has caused. The result of it has been to put the first -big nail in the coffin of Labor unions. You have been discovered as men -with a yellow streak. Governments now see, what they have never been -able to recognize before, that labor does not form the most important -section of the three sections of society, the other two being capital -and the purchasing power. You have made clear to them, Master Sparrow, -that labor and capital are at the mercy of the third element,--the great -middle class, the people who buy from capital, pay your wages and who -can at any moment, by not buying, reduce both capital and labor to -nothingness. The new strike, the epoch-making strike, is of this middle -class, and they haven't struck against you but against strikes. At last -the worm has turned and I venture to prophesy, foolish as it is, that -after a series of damaging and expensive kicks, labor will descend to -its proper place, with a just share in profits that will enable it to -get a little joy out of life, freed from the tyrannical hand of unions, -and with more spare time than is at present enjoyed by the members of -the middle class who will continue to take the rough with the smooth, -without squealing, as heretofore. In fact, I look upon this strike of -miners as one of the best things that has ever happened in history and -nothing gives me greater joy and greater satisfaction than to watch, as -I shall do from to-day onwards, the gradual diminishing of the excessive -size of the labor head.--How are your potatoes coming along?" - -Without waiting for an answer, the tall old man turned quietly and left -the room; while the parlor Bolshevist, stuffed with the pamphlets of -Hyndman and Marks, Lenin and Trotsky, gave a vicious kick to the leg of -the table and eyed the receding figure with venom. - -The train was late and so Rip Van Winkle killed time by studying the -contents of the bookstall, looking with a sort of incredulity at the -stuff on which the public is fed,--illiterate fiction with glaring -covers and cheap weeklies filled with egregious gossip and suggestive -drawings. The extra fifteen minutes of waiting was passed very -pleasantly by his Lordship because many of his old friends from the -village came up to him and talked. The chemist, who had driven down -personally to collect his monthly box of drugs from London, was very -affable. So also was the blacksmith who had known Lord Amesbury for many -years and treated him with _bonhomie_. They talked racing with great -earnestness. The postman, the gardener from the house of the war -profiteer, and the village policeman, all of them very good friends of -the man upon whom they looked as representing the good old days, livened -things up. With the real democracy that belongs solely to the -aristocrat, Rip Van Winkle knew all about the ailments of their wives, -the prospects of their children, the number of their hens and pigs and -their different forms of religious worship, which he duly respected, -whether they were Little Baptists, Big Baptists or Middle-sized -Baptists, Minor Methodists or Major Methodists, Independent Churchmen or -Dependent Churchmen, Roman Catholics or Anglicans whose Catholicism is -interpreted intelligently. The village consisted perhaps of twenty-five -hundred souls, but they all had their different cures, and there were as -many churches and chapels in and off the High Street as there were -public houses. It had always seemed to Feo's father that honest beer is -infinitely preferable to the various sorts of religion which were to be -obtained in those other public houses in their various bottles, all -labeled differently, and he hoped that the prohibition which had been -the means of developing among the people of the United States so many -drinks far more injurious than those in which alcohol prevailed would -never be forced by graft and hypocrisy, self-seeking and salary-making -upon the tight little island,--not always so tight as prohibitionists -supposed. - -Lady Feo bounded out of the train, followed by Mrs. Malwood and their -two new friends recently picked up,--Feo's latest fancy, Gordon -Macquarie, a glossy young man who backed musical plays in order that he -might dally with the pretty members of his choruses, and Mrs. Malwood's -most recent time-killer whose name was Dowth,--David Dowth, the Welsh -mine owner, who had just succeeded to his father's property and had -invaded London to see life. Cambridge was still upon the latter's face -and very obviously upon his waistcoat. He was a green youth who would -learn about women from Mrs. Malwood. They were both new to Rip Van -Winkle and for that reason all the more interesting. Lola, carrying a -jewel case, emerged from a compartment at the back of the train with -Mrs. Malwood's maid, similarly burdened, and it was at Lola that Lord -Amesbury threw his most appreciative glance. - -"French," he said to himself. "The reincarnation of those pretty little -people made immortal by Fragonard." - -Feo threw her arms round her father's neck and kissed him on those -places of his cheeks which were clear of undergrowth. "Good old Rip," -she said. "Always on the spot. Been bored, old boy?" - -Lord Amesbury laughed. "To be perfectly frank, yes," he said. "I have -missed my race meetings and my bridge at Boodles, but I have been -studying the awakening of spring and the psychology of bird life, all -very delightful. Also I have been watching the daily changes among the -trees in the beech forest. Amazingly dramatic, my dear. But it's good to -see you again and I hope your two friends are gamblers. Possibly I can -make a bit out of them." - -He patted her on the shoulder and looked her up and down with admiration -not unmixed with astonishment. Among the many riddles which he had never -been able to solve he placed the fact that he of all men was Feo's -father. What extraordinary twist had nature performed in making his only -daughter a girl instead of a boy? Standing there in her short skirt and -manly looking golf shoes with lopping tongues, her beautiful square -shoulders lightly covered with a coarsely knitted sweater of chestnut -brown and a sort of Tyrolean hat drawn down over her ears, she looked -like a young officer in the First Life Guards masquerading in women's -clothes. - - - -II - - -When Lord Amesbury mounted the box with Feo at his side and turned out -of the station yard into the long road which led to the old village of -Princes Risborough, the first thing that caught Lola's eyes was the -white cross cut by the Romans in the chalk of the hill, on the top of -which sat Chilton Park. Again and again she had stood in front of -photographs of this very view. They hung in Miss Breezy's room, neatly -framed. Many times Miss Breezy herself had explained to Lola the meaning -of that cross, so far as its historical significance went, and Lola had -been duly impressed. The Romans,--how long ago they must have lived. But -to her, more and more as her love and adoration grew, that white cross -stood as a mark for the place to which Fallaray went from time to time -for peace, to listen to the wind among the beech trees, to watch the -sheep on the distant hills, to wander among the gardens of his old house -and forget the falsity and the appalling ineptitude of his brother -Ministers. The photographs had indicated very well the beauty of this -scene but the sight of it in the life, all green in the first flush of -spring, brought a sob to Lola's throat. Once more the feeling came all -over her that it would be at Chilton Park that she would meet Fallaray -at last alone and discover her love to him,--not as lady's maid but as -the little human thing, the Eve. - -She sat shoulder to shoulder with the groom opposite to Mrs. Malwood's -maid,--Dowth, Macquarie and Mrs. Malwood in close juxtaposition. But she -had no ears for their conversation. As the village approached, not one -single feature of it escaped her eager eyes,--its wide cobbled street, -its warm Queen Anne houses, its old-fashioned shops, its Red Lion and -Royal George and Black Bull, its funny little post office up three -stairs, its doctor's house all covered with creeper, its ancient church -sitting hen-wise among her children. It seemed to her that all these -things, old and quiet and honest, had gone to the making of Fallaray's -character; that he belonged to them and was part of them and represented -them; and it gave her a curious feeling of being let into Fallaray's -secrets as she went along. - -From time to time people hatted Lady Feo and one or two old women, -riddled with rheumatism, bobbed--not because of any sense of serfdom, -but because they liked to do so--a pleasant though inverted sense of -egotism which is at the bottom of all tradition. Rip Van Winkle saluted -every one with his whip; the butchers--and there were several, although -meat was still one of the luxuries--the landlords of the public houses -who were not so fat as they used to be before the War, the vicar, a high -churchman with an astonishingly low collar, and the usual comic person -who invariably retires to such villages, lives in a workman's cottage -among the remnants of passed glory and talks to any one who will listen -to him of the good old days when he tooled his team of spanking bays and -hobnobbed in London, when society really _was_ society, with men of -famous names and ladies of well-known frailty. This particular -gentleman, Augustus Warburgh, pronounced Warborough, made himself up to -look like Whistler and wore the sort of clothes which would have -appealed greatly to a character actor. What he lived on no one knew. One -or two people with nasty minds were convinced that his small income was -derived from blackmail,--probably a most pernicious piece of libel. On -his few pounds a week, however, he did himself extremely well and lived -alone in a four-room cottage as antediluvian as himself, in which there -were some very charming pieces of Jacobean furniture, a collection of -excellent sporting prints and numerous books all well-thumbed, "Barry -Lyndon" being the most favored. - -In this little place, with its old beams and uneven floors of oak, -Augustus Warburgh "did" for himself, cooking his own meals, making his -own bed and bringing home from his occasional trips to London mysterious -bottles filled with delicatessen from Appenrodts, amazing pickles and an -occasional case of unblended Balblair which he got from a relative of -his who owned half of the isle of Skye. Nips of this glorious but -dangerous juice he offered to his cronies in his expansive moods and -delighted in seeing them immediately slide under his table with the -expression worn by Charlie Chaplin after he has been plumped on the head -with a meat axe. Needless to say that he and Rip Van Winkle got along -together like a house on fire. They talked the same language, enjoyed -the same highly spiced food, dipped back into the same period and had -inevitably done the same people. The Warburgh bow as the brake passed in -the High Street was not Albertian but Elizabethan. - -Feo laughed as she waved her hand. "When he dies," she said, "and I -don't think he ever will, Princes Risborough will lose one of its most -beautiful notes,--like London when they did away with Jimmies. Not that -I remember Jimmies, except from what you've told me about it. Let's have -him up to dinner one night and make him drunk." - -"You can't," said Lord Amesbury. "It's impossible. There is a hole in -every one of the soles of his shoes through which all the fumes of -alcohol leak. You can stew him, you can pickle him, you can float him, -but you cannot sink him. When everybody else is down and out, that is -the time when Augustus takes the floor and rises to the eloquence and -vitriolic power of Dr. Johnson.--Tell me, Feo, who is that remarkable -child that you have got in tow?" - -"My maid, you mean? She's the niece of my old Breezy. Isn't she -charming? Such an honest little soul too. Does her job with the most -utter neatness and nicety of touch and listens excellently. I rescued -her from the stage,--I mean, of course, the chorus. A good deed in a -naughty world." That's how she liked to put it, her memory being a -little hazy. "I don't know what will become of her. Of course, she can't -be my maid forever. Judging from the way in which my male friends look -at her whenever they get the chance, I shouldn't be a bit surprised if -one of these days she eloped with a duke. It would fill me with joy to -meet her in her husband's ancestral home all covered with the family -jewels and do my best to win a gracious smile. Or else she'll marry -Simpkins, who is, I hear, frightfully mashed on her, and retire to a -village pub, there to imitate the domestic cat and litter the world with -kittens. I dunno. Anything may happen to a girl like that. But whatever -it is, it will be one of these two extremes. I hate to think about it -because I like her. It's very nice to have her about me." - -Rip Van Winkle smiled. "To parody a joke in last week's _La Vie -Parisienne_, I am not so old as I look, my dear." - -"You dare," said Feo. But she laughed too. "Good Lord, Father, don't go -and do a thing like that. If I had to call that girl Mother, I think -that even my sense of humor would crack." - -"A little joke, Feo," said Rip. "Nothing more. I can't even keep myself, -you see." - -Whereupon, having left the village, the brake turned into the road that -ran up to Whitecross at an angle of forty-five. The old man slowed the -horses down to a walk and waved his whip towards the screen of trees -which hid Chilton Park from the public gaze. "It's been a wonderful -spring," he said. "I have watched it with infinite pleasure. It has -filled my old brain with poetry and very possibly with regrets. All the -same, I'm glad you have come down. I've been rather lonely here. The -evenings are long and ghosts have a knack of coming out and standing -round my chair.--How is Edmund? I regret that I have forgotten to ask -you about him before. One somehow always forgets to ask about Edmund, -although I see that he is regarded by George Lytham and his crowd as the -new Messiah." - -Feo laughed again, showing all her wonderful teeth. "I had a quaint few -minutes with Edmund the other night on the steps of Langham Hall. He had -taken his mother and Aunt Betsy to a symphony concert. Do you know, I -rather think that George is right about Edmund? He has all the makings -of a Messiah and of course all the opportunities. I shouldn't be a bit -surprised if he emerged from the present generation of second-raters and -led England out of its morass. But he'll only achieve this if he -continues to remain untouched by any feminine hand. Of course, he's -absolutely safe so far as I'm concerned, but there was a most peculiar -look in his face the other night which startled me somewhat. I thought -he'd fallen in love with me,--which would have been most inconvenient. -But I was wrong.--Well, here we are at the old homestead. How it reeks -of Fallaray and worthiness." - - - -III - - -But the party was not a success. Very shortly after lunch, during which -Feo and Mrs. Malwood had put in good work in an unprecedented attempt to -charm their new acquisitions, they all adjourned to the terrace,--that -wonderful old terrace of weather-beaten stone giving on to a wide view -of an Italian garden backed by a panorama of rolling hills and of the -famous beech forest ten miles deep, under which, in certain parts, -especially in the Icknield Way through which the Romans had passed, the -leaves of immemorial summers, all red and dry, lay twenty feet deep. - -Gilbert Jermyn, Feo's brother, had dashed over on his motor bicycle from -Great Marlow where he was staying with several friends, ex-flying men -like himself and equally devoid of cash, trying to formulate some scheme -whereby they might get back into adventure once more. Lord Amesbury had -gone down to a pet place of his own to take a nap in the long grass with -the sun on his face. Feo, who had been dancing until five o'clock that -morning, was lying full stretch on a dozen cushions in the shadow of the -house, Macquarie in attendance. Mrs. Malwood, petulant and disgruntled, -was sitting near by with David Dowth. Gilbert Jermyn, who could see that -he was superfluous, sat by himself on the balustrade gazing into the -distance. His clean-cut face was heavy with despondency. He had -forgotten to light his cigarette. - -"You're about the liveliest undertaker I've ever struck," said Feo. -"What the deuce is the matter with you?" - -Macquarie shrugged his shoulders,--his girlishly cut coat with its tight -waist and tight sleeves crinkling as he did so. "Oh, my dear," he said, -"it's no good your expecting anything from me to-day. Under the -circumstances it's impossible for me to scintillate." - -"What do you mean?" asked Feo roughly. She had ordered this man down in -her royal way, being rather taken with his tallness, youngness and -smoothness, and demanded scintillation. - -"But look at the position! I hate to be mercenary and talk about money, -but you know, my dear thing, almost every bob I've got is invested in -the three musical comedies now running, and if things go on as they are, -every one of them will be shut down because of the coal strike. That's a -jolly nice lookout. I'm no Spartan, and I confess that I find it very -difficult to be merry and bright among the gravestones of my hopes." - -And while he went on like that, dropping in many "my dears" and "you -dear things" as though he had known Feo all his life, instead of more or -less for twenty minutes, making gestures in imitation of those of the -spoilt small-part lady, Lord Amesbury's daughter and Fallaray's wife -became gradually more and more aware of the fact that she had made a -fool of herself. There was something broadly declasse about this man -which, even to one of her homogeneous nature, became a reproach. She was -getting, she could see, a little careless in her choice of friends and -for this one, whom she had picked out of semi-society and the musical -comedy night life of London--so dull, so naked, so hungry and thirsty -and so diamond seeking--to play the yellow dog and find excuses for his -lack of entertainment left her, she found with astonishment, wholly -without adjectives. It was indeed altogether beyond words. And she sat -watching and listening to this vain and brainless person with a sort of -admiration for his audacity. - -As for Dowth and Mrs. Malwood they, too, were not hitting it off, and in -reply to Mrs. Malwood's impatient question the young Welshman's answer -had many points of excuse. "Three of my mines have been flooded," he -said gravely, "which knocks my future income all cock-eyed. God knows -how I shall emerge from this frightful business. A week ago I was one of -the richest men in England. To-day I face pauperism. It's appalling. You -expect me to sit at your feet and make love to you with the sword of -Damocles hanging over my head. It can't be done, Mrs. Malwood. And, mind -you, even if the remainder of my mines escape ruin, I go under. That's -as plain as the nose on my face. The Government, always in terror of -labor, has been amazingly supported in this business by the whole sanity -of England, but the end of it will be that the miners will be given less -wages but large shares in the profits of the coal owners. I shall -probably be able to make a better living by becoming a miner myself. You -sit there petulant and annoyed because I am in the depths of -despondency. You'll cry out for cake when bread has run out, like all -the women of your kind, but you see in me a doomed man unable to raise a -finger to save property which has been in my family for several -generations. I simply can't jibber and giggle and crack jokes with you -and talk innuendoes. I was a fool to come down at all." - -"Oh," said Mrs. Malwood aghast. "Oh--I suppose you think that I ought to -amuse _you_?" - -"Yes, I do," said Dowth. - -And Mrs. Malwood also was at a loss for adjectives. - -And when, presently, Rip Van Winkle appeared, smiling and sun-tanned to -join what he expected to be a jovial group, he found a strange silence -and a most uncomfortable air of jarring temperaments. He was well -accustomed to these little parties of Feo's and to watch her at work -with new men whom she collected on her way through life. Usually they -were rather riotous affairs, filled with mirth and daring. What in the -name of all that was wonderful had happened to this one? He joined his -son and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. - -"Gibbie," he said, "enlighten me." - -But he got no explanation from this young man, who seemed to be like a -bird whose wings had been cut. "My dear Father," he said, "I've no -sympathy with Feo's little pranks. She and the Malwood girl seem to have -picked up a bounder and a shivering Welsh terrier this time, and even -they probably regret it. I ran over this afternoon to yarn with you, as -a matter of fact. Come on, let's get out of this. Let's go down to the -stream and sit under the trees and have it out." - -And so they left together, unnoticed by that disconcerted foursome with -whose little games fate had had the impudence to interfere. And -presently, seated on the bank of the brook which ran through the lower -part of the park, Lord Gilbert Jermyn, ex-major Royal Air Force, D. S. -O., M. C., got it off his chest. "O God," he began, "how fed up I am -with this infernal peace." - -The old man gazed at his son with amazement. "I don't follow you," he -said. "Peace? My dear lad, we have all been praying for it and we -haven't got it yet." - -The boy, and he was nothing more than that, sat with rounded shoulders -and a deep frown on his face, hunched up, flicking pieces of earth into -the bubbling water. - -"I know all about that," he went on. "Of course you've prayed for peace. -So did everybody over twenty-four. But what about us,--we who were -caught as kids, before we knew anything, and taught the art of flying -and sent up at any old time, careless of death, the eyes of the -artillery, the protectors of the artillery, the supermen with beardless -faces. What about us in this so-called peace of yours? Here we are at a -loose end, with no education, because that was utterly interrupted, able -to do absolutely nothing for a living,--let down, let out, looked on -rather as though we were brigands because we have grown into the habit -of breaking records, smashing conventions and killing as a pastime. Do -you see my point, old boy? We herd together in civics when we're not in -the police courts for bashing bobbies and not in the divorce courts for -running off with other people's wives, and we ask ourselves, in pretty -direct English, what the hell is going to become of us,--and echo -answers what. But I can tell you this. What we want is war, perpetual -bloody war, never mind who's the enemy. You made us want it, you fitted -us for it and for nothing else. We're all pretty excellent in the air -and in consequence utterly useless on earth. And when I read the papers, -and I never read more than the headlines anyway, I long to see that -Germany is going to take advantage of the damned stupidity of all the -Allied governments, including that of America, gather up the weapons -that she hasn't returned and the men who are going to refuse to pay -reparations and start the whole business over again. My God, how eagerly -I'd get back into my uniform, polish up my buttons, stop drinking and -smoking and get fit for flying once more. I'd sing like Caruso up there -among the clouds and empty my machine gun at the first Boche who came -along with a thrill of joy. That's my job. I know no other." - -The old man's hair stood on end,--all of it, like a white bush. - - - -IV - - -Something happened that afternoon which might have swung Lola's life on -to an entirely different set of rails and put Fallaray even farther out -of her reach. The unrest which had followed the War had made the -acquisition of servants very difficult. The young country girls who had -been glad enough to go into service in the large houses now preferred to -stick to their factories, because they were able to have free evenings. -The housekeeper at Chilton Park was very short-handed and in consequence -asked Lola and Mrs. Malwood's maid if they would make themselves useful. -Mrs. Malwood's didn't see it. She had been well bitten by the -trades-union bug and, therefore, was not going to do anything of any -sort except her specific duties, and those as carelessly as she could. -The housekeeper could go and hang herself. Violet, the girl in question, -intended to lie on her bed and read _Scarlet Bits_ until she was needed -by her mistress. Lola, whose blood was good, was very glad to lend a -hand. With perfect willingness she committed an offence against lady's -maids which shocked Violet to the very roots of her system. She donned a -little cap and apron and turned herself into a parlor maid, a creature, -as all the world knows, many pegs of the ladder beneath her own position -as a lady's maid. When, therefore, tea was served on the terrace, Lola -assisted the butler, looking daintier than ever, and so utterly free -from coquetry, because there was no man in the world except Fallaray for -her, that she might have been a little ghost. - -But the trained eye of Gordon Macquarie looked her over immediately. He -turned to Lady Feo, to whom he had not addressed a word for twenty -minutes, and said with a sudden flash of enthusiasm, "Ye gods and little -fishes, what a picture of a girl! Wouldn't she look perfectly wonderful -in the front line of the chorus on the O. P. side! An actress too, I bet -you. Look at the way she's pretending not to be alive. Of course she -knows how perfectly sweet she looks in that saucy make-up." - -If Mr. Gordon Macquarie had deliberately gone out of his way to discover -the most brilliant method of sentencing himself to the lethal chamber he -could not have been more successful than by using that outpouring of -gushing words. Feo had fully realized, from the moment that she had left -the dining room, that in acquiring Gordon Macquarie she had committed -the gravest _faux pas_ of her life. Not only was he a bounder but he did -not possess the imagination and the sense of proportion to know that in -being invited down to Chilton Park by Lady Feo he had metaphorically -been decorated with a much coverted order. His egotism and his whining -fright had made him unable to maintain his fourth wall and at least -imitate the ways of a gentleman. Never before in her history had Feo -spent an afternoon so unpleasant and so humiliating, and now, to be -obliged to listen to a paean of praise about her maid, if you please, -was the last straw. Any other woman would probably have risen from her -place among her cushions, followed Lola into the house and either boxed -her ears or ordered her back to town. - -But Feo had humor, and although her pride was wounded and she would -willingly have given orders for Macquarie to be shot through the head, -she pursued a slightly different method. She rose, gave Macquarie a most -curious smile, waited until Lola had retired from the terrace, followed -her and called her back just as she was about to disappear into the -servants' quarters. "Lola," she said, "run up at once and pack my -things. We are going back to town. Say nothing to anybody. Be nippy," -the word was Simpkins's, "and in the meantime I will telephone for a -car. Do you understand?" - -"Yes, my lady." In Lola's voice there must have been something of the -tremendous disappointment that swept over her. But it was ignored or -unnoticed by her mistress. To leave Chilton Park almost as soon as she -had seen it,--not to be able to creep secretly into Fallaray's room and -stand there all alone and get from it the feeling of the man, the -vibrations of his thoughts,--not to be able to steal out in the -moonlight and wander among the Italian gardens made magic by the white -light and picture to herself the tall ascetic lonely figure in front of -whom some night she intended to move Heaven and earth to stand. - -But she turned away quickly, obeyed orders without a single question and -ran up the wide staircase blindly, because, for the moment, her eyes -were filled with tears. But only for the moment. After all, there was -nothing in this visit that could help her scheme along. She must keep -her courage and her nerve, continue her course of study, watch her -opportunities and be ready to seize the real chance when it presented -itself. Lady Feo was bored,--which, of course, was a crime. Macquarie -was a false coin. Lola could have told her that. How many exactly -similar men had ogled her in the street and attempted to capture her -attention. She had been amazed to see him join Lady Feo at Paddington -station that morning. She instantly put him down as a counter jumper -from a second-rate linen draper's in the upper reaches of Oxford -Street.--She was ready for Feo when she came up to put on her hat. Her -deft fingers had worked quickly, and she was alert and bright, in spite -of her huge disappointment. - -It was characteristic of Feo to break up her houseparty with the most -unscrupulous disregard for the convenience of the other members of it, -and to care nothing for the fact that she would spoil the pleasure of -her father. He and her brother, her little friend, Mrs. Malwood, and the -two disappointing men must pay her bill. She never paid. It was -characteristic of her, also, to turn her mind quickly, before leaving, -upon some other way of obtaining amusement, as she dreaded to face a -dull and barren Sunday in London. She remembered suddenly that Penelope -Winchfield, one of the "gang," had opened her house near Aylesbury, -which was only a short drive from Princes Risborough. It was a brain -wave. So she went to the telephone and rang up, invited herself for the -week-end and went finally into the car and slipped away with Lola -without saying good-by to a single person. "How I hate this place," she -said. "Something always goes wrong here." And she turned and made a face -at the old building like a naughty child. - -Any other woman--at any rate, any other woman whose upbringing had been -as harum-scarum as Feo's--would have given Lola her notice and dropped -her like an old shoe. But she had humor. - - - -V - - -Queen's Road, Bayswater, so far as the jeweler's little shop was -concerned, was in for a surprise that evening. Just as Lola's mother was -about to close up after a rather depressing day which had brought very -little business--a few wrist watches to be attended to, nothing more--a -car drove up, and from it descended Lola, carrying a handbag and smiling -like a girl let out of school. - -"Why, my dear," cried Mrs. Breezy, "what does this mean? I thought you -were going to Chilton Park." But she held her ewe lamb warmly and gladly -in her arms, while a shout of welcome came from behind the glass screen -where the fat man sat with the microscope in his eye. - -Lola laughed. "I went there," she said, "but something happened. I'll -tell you about that later. And then Lady Feo altered her plans, drove -over to Aylesbury and told me I might do anything I liked until Monday -night, as there was no room for me in Mrs. Winchfield's house. And so, -of course, I came home. How are you, Mummy darling? Oh, I'm so glad to -see you." And she kissed the little woman again with a touch of -exuberance and ran into the shop to pounce upon her father, all among -his watches. It was good to see the way in which that man caught his -little girl in his arms and held her tight.--A good girl, Lola, a good -affectionate girl, working hard when there was no need for her to do so -and improving herself. Good Lord, she had begun to talk like a lady and -think like a lady, but she would never be too grand to come into the -little old shop in Queen's Road, Bayswater,--not Lola. - -He said all that rather emotionally and this too. "It isn't as if we -hadn't seen yer for such a long time. You've never missed droppin' in -upon us whenever you could get away, but this's like a sunny day when -the papers said it was goin' to be wet,--like finding a real good tot of -cognac in a bottle yer thought was empty." And he kissed her again on -both cheeks and held her away from him, the Frenchman in him coming out -in his utter lack of self-consciousness. He looked her all over with a -great smile on his fat face and stroked the sleeve of her blue serge -coat, touched the white thing at her throat and finally pinched the lobe -of one of her tiny ears. - -"It isn't that yer clothes are smarter, or that yer've grown older or -anything like that. It's that you seem to have pulled yer feet out of -this place, me girl. It doesn't seem to be your place now.--It's manner. -It's the way yer hold yer head, tilt yer chin up.--It's accent. It's the -way you end yer sentences. When a woman comes into the shop and speaks -to me as you do, I know that she won't pay her bills but that her name's -in the Red Book.--You little monkey, yer've picked up all the tricks and -manners of her ladyship. You'll be saying 'My God' soon, as yer aunt -tells us Lady Feo does! Well, well, well." And he hugged her again, -laughed, and then, finding that he showed certain points of his French -antecedents, began to exaggerate them as he had seen Robert Nainby do at -the Gaiety. He was a consummate actor and a very honest person. The two -don't always go together. - -And then Mrs. Breezy, who in the meantime had been practical and shut -the shop, followed them into the parlor, which seemed to Lola to be -shrinking every time she saw it and more crowded with cardboard boxes, -account books, alarm clocks and the surplus from the shop, and sprang a -little surprise. "Who do you think's coming to dinner to-night?" she -asked. - -"Is anybody coming to dinner? What a nuisance," said Lola, who had -looked forward to enjoying the company of her father and mother -uninterrupted. - -John Breezy gave a roguish glance at his wife and winked. "Give yer ten -guesses," he said. - -"Ernest Treadwell." - -"No," said Mrs. Breezy, "Albert Simpkins." - -"Simpky? How funny. Did you ask him or did he ask himself?" - -"He asked himself," said John Breezy. - -"I asked him," said Mrs. Breezy. - -"I see. The true Simpky way. He suggested that he would like to have -dinner with you and you caught the suggestion. He comes of such a long -line of men who have worn their masters' clothes that he is now a sort -of second-hand edition of them all, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised -if, when he falls in love, he goes to the parents first and asks their -permission to propose to the daughter; and he'll probably ask not for -the daughter herself but for her hand,--which never seems to me to be -much of a compliment to the daughter." - -Mrs. Breezy and her husband exchanged a quick glance. Either there was -something uncanny about Lola or she knew that this very respectable man -was madly in love with her. During his numerous visits to the jeweler's -shop Simpkins had invariably led the conversation round to Lola, finding -a thousand phases of her character which he adored. But the last time he -had been with them there was something in his manner and voice which -made it easy to guess that his visit that evening was for the purpose of -asking them whether they considered him worthy of becoming their -son-in-law. It may be said that they considered that he was, especially -after he had told them about the money inherited from his father and his -own savings and confided in them his scheme of buying that very -desirable inn at Wargrave, in which they could, of course, frequently -spend very pleasant week-ends during the summer months. They had before -this recognized in him a man of great depth of feeling, of excellent -principles and a certain strange ecstasy,--somewhat paradoxical in one -who nearly always appeared in a swallow-tail coat, dark trousers and a -black tie. - -Seeing that this was an occasion of considerable importance, Mrs. Breezy -had arranged to dine in the drawing-room. It now behooved her to hurry -up to her room and change her clothes and lay an extra place for Lola. -The dinner itself was being cooked at that moment by the baker next -door,--duck, new peas and potatoes and apple pie with a nice piece of -Gruyere cheese, which, with two bottles of Beaujolais from the Breezy -cellar, would be worthy of Mr. Simpkins's attention even though he did -come from Dover Street, Mayfair. - -As a matter of fact, Lola's remark about the daughter's hand was merely -an arrow fired into the air. She had been encouraging Simpkins to look -with favor upon the lovesick girl who sat so frequently upon her bed and -poured out her heart. She never conceived the possibility of being -herself asked for by good old Simpky, who had been so kind to her and -was such a knowledgable companion at the theater. The idea of becoming -his wife was grotesque, ridiculous, pathetic, hugely remote from her -definite plan of life. She considered that the girl Ellen was exactly -suited to him. Had she not inherited all the attributes of an -innkeeper's wife from her worthy parents who had kept the Golden Sheaf -at Shepperton since away back before the great wind? So she ran up to -her room to tidy herself, with her soul full of Chilton Park and -Fallaray. - -Simpkins arrived precisely on time, smelling of Windsor soap and -brilliantine. He had indulged in a tie which had white spots upon it, -discreet white spots, and into this he had stuck a golden pin,--a -horse-shoe for luck. He was welcomed by Mr. Breezy in the drawing-room -and immediately twigged the fact that there were four places laid. - -Mr. Breezy was waggish. It is the way of a parent in all such -circumstances. "My boy, who do you think?" - -"I dunno. Who?" His tone was anxious and his brows were flustered. - -"Lola," said Mr. Breezy. - -"Lola!--I thought she was at Chilton Park with 'er ladyship. I chose -this evening because of that. This'll make me very--well----" - -"Not you," said John Breezy. "You're all right, me boy. We like you. -That inn down at Wargrave sounds good. I can see a nice kitchen garden. -I shall love to wander in it in the early morning and pull up spring -onions. I'm French enough for them still. You can take it that the -missus and I are all in your favor,--formalities waived. We'll slip away -after dinner, go for a little walk and you can plump the question. The -betting is you'll win." And he clapped the disconcerted valet heartily -on the back,--the rather narrow back. - -"I'm very much obliged, Mr. Breezy," said Simpkins, who had gone white -to the lips, "and also to Mrs. Breezy. It's nice to be trusted like -this, and all that. But I must say, in all honesty, I wanted to take -this affair step by step, so to speak. If I'd 'ad the good fortune to be -encouraged by you in my desire to ask for Lola's 'and,"--there it -came,--"I should 'ave taken a week at least to 'ave thought out the -proper things to say to Lola 'erself. Sometimes there's a little laugh -in the back of 'er eyes which throws a man off his words. I don't know -whether you've noticed that. But this is very sudden and I shall 'ave to -do a lot of thinking during the meal." - -"Oh, you English," said John Breezy and roared with laughter. "Mong -Doo!" - -One of Simpkins's hands fidgeted with his tie while the other -straightened the feathers on the top of his head. Jumping Joseph, he was -fairly up against it! How he wished he was a daring man who had traveled -a little and read some of the modern novels. It was a frightful handicap -to be so old-fashioned. - -And then the ladies arrived,--Mrs. Breezy in a white fichu which looked -like an antimacassar, a thing usually kept for Christmas day and wedding -anniversaries; Lola in a neat blue suit and the highest spirits,--a -charming costume. - -"Hello, Simpky." - -"Good evening, Mr. Simpkins." - -Simpkins bowed. He certainly had the Grandison manner. And while Lola -brought him up to date with the state of affairs, so far as she knew -them, Mrs. Breezy disappeared, stood on a chair against the fence in the -back yard and received the hot dishes which were handed over to her by -the baker's wife. A couple of scrawny cats, with tails erect, attracted -by the aroma of hot duck, followed her to the back door,--but got no -farther. "You shall have the bones," said Mrs. Breezy, and they were -duly encouraged. - -The dinner was a success, even although Simpkins sat through it in one -long trance. He ate well to fortify himself and it was obvious to John -Breezy, sympathetic soul that he was, that his guest was rehearsing a -flowery speech of proposal. The unconscious Lola kept up a merry rattle -of conversation and gave them a vivid description of the village through -which she had passed that afternoon and of her drive back to town alone -from Aylesbury. Of Chilton Park she said nothing. It was too sacred. And -when presently John Breezy's programme was carried out, the table -cleared, the two cats rewarded for their patience and Simpkins left -alone with Lola, there was a moment of shattering silence. But even then -Lola was unsuspecting, and it was not until the valet unbuttoned his -coat to free his swelling chest and placed himself in a supplicating -attitude on the sofa at her side, that she tumbled to the situation. - -"Oh, Simpky," she said, "what _are_ you going to do?" - -It was a wonderful cue. It helped him to take the first ditch without -touching either of the banks. The poor wretch slipped down upon his -knees, all his pre-arranged words scattered like a load of bricks. "Ask -you to marry me, Lola," he said. "Lola, darling, I love you. I loved you -the very minute you came down the area steps, which was all wrong -because I thought you'd come from heaven and therefore your place was -the front door. I love you and I want you to marry me, and I'll buy the -inn and work like a dog and we'll send the boy to Lansing or the City of -London School and make a gentleman of 'im." - -Not resentment, not amusement, but a great pity swept over Lola. This -was a good, kind, generous man and his emotion was so simple and so -genuine. And she must hurt him because it was impossible, absurd. - -And so for a moment she sat very still and erect, looking exactly like a -daffodil with the light on her yellow head, and her eyes shut, because -there might be in them that twinkle which Simpkins had noticed and which -he must not see. And presently she said, putting her hand on his -shoulder, "Oh, Simpky, dear old Simpky, why couldn't you have loved -Ellen? What a difficult world it is." - -"Ellen," he said. "Oh." - -"I can't, Simpky. I simply can't." - -And he sat on his heels and looked like a pricked balloon. "Ain't I good -enough, Lola?" - -"Yes, quite good enough. Perhaps too good. But, oh, Simpky, I'm so -awfully in love with some one else and it's a difficult world. That's -the truth. I have to tell it to you. I can never, never marry you, -never. Please accept this. Whatever happens to me, and I don't know -whatever _will_ happen to me, I shall always remember how good you were -and how proud you made me feel. But I'm so awfully in love with some one -else. Awfully. And perhaps I shall never be married. That's the truth, -Simpky." - -And she bent down and kissed him on the forehead, and then got up -quickly and raised the kneeling man to his feet. And he stood there, -shattered, empty and wordless, with the blow that she had given him ever -so softly marking his face, marking his soul. - -And Lola was very, very sorry. Poor old Simpky. Poor little Ellen. It -was indeed a difficult world. - - - -VI - - -The next day was Saturday,--a busy day for the Breezys, the one day in -the week upon which they pinned their faith to make up for slack -business during the remainder of it. In the morning Lola helped her -mother to make an enticing display in the windows and along the counter -in the shop itself. Mrs. Breezy had recently broadened out a little and -now endeavored to sell kodaks and photographic materials, self-filling -pens and stationery for ladies, which is tantamount to saying that it -was stationery unfit for men. During this busy and early hour, while -John Breezy, one-eyed, was looking into the complaints of wrist watches, -most of which were suffering from having been taken into the bath, Lola -answered her mother's silent inquiry as to what had happened the -previous evening. With a duster in one hand and a silver sugar basin in -the other, she looked up suddenly and said, "No, Mother, it wasn't and -will never be possible. Poor old Simpky." - -And Mrs. Breezy nodded and shrugged her shoulders. And Lola hoped that -that would be the end of it. But why should she have hoped so, knowing -women? A few minutes later Mrs. Breezy began. - -"The inn at Wargrave would have been so nice. He said that it had an -orchard on one side and a large lawn running down to the river on the -other, shaded with old trees,--little tables underneath and lovers' -nooks and sweet peas growing in tubs. Ah, how nice after Queen's Road, -Bayswater. And your father could have fished for hours and I could have -rearranged the furniture--and very good furniture too, he said--and made -things look spick and span. And he's a good man, is Albert Simpkins, a -very unusual man, educated, religious, honest, with a sort of white -flame burning in him somewhere. He would have made a good husband, -dearie.--However, I suppose you know best." And she threw an anxious -glance at her little girl who had become, if anything, more of an enigma -to her than ever. It didn't matter about the apron that she wore; nor -did the fact that she was very efficiently cleaning that silver thing -detract from the new and subtle dignity and poise that she had acquired. -And her accent, and her choice of words,--they were those of Mrs. -Breezy's favorite actress who played fashionable women. It was very -extraordinary. What a good ear the child must have and what a very -observant eye,--rather like her father's, although he had to be assisted -by a microscope. "You won't think it over, I suppose?" she asked -finally, long after Lola had believed the subject to be closed. Mothers -have an amazing way of recurring to old arguments. But Lola shook her -head again and gave a little gesture that was peculiarly French, as who -should say, "My dear! Marriage!" - -As soon as the shop was opened and Mrs. Breezy was on duty and John -Breezy was humming softly over his most monotonous job, Lola went -upstairs to the little bedroom which she had completely outgrown now, -put on her hat and presently slipped out of the house. All the usual -musicians were already at work on the curbstone of Queen's Road. The -strains of "Annie Laurie" were mixed with those of "Son o' Mine" and -there was one daring creature with a concertina who was desecrating -Gounod's "Ave Maria." Perambulators cluttered the pavements and eager -housewives were in earnest conversation with butchers and greengrocers -who had arranged their wares temptingly outside their shops so that they -could be handled and considered and sampled. Lola made her way to -Kensington Gardens filled with a desire which had been growing upon her -ever since she woke up to make another Cinderella dash into the great -world. She was seized with another overpowering eagerness to meet -Fallaray on his own level. He was to be in town over the week-end. She -knew that. The Government, as though it had not already enough troubles -to contend with--Germany haggling and France ready to fly at her throat -and America hiding her head in the sand of dead shibboleths like an -ostrich--was in the throes of the big strike and its members were -hurrying from one conference to another with the labor leaders. Lady Feo -away, she had a wonderful chance to use that night and nothing would be -easier than to dress once more at Mrs. Rumbold's and slip into her -mother's house with a latchkey. But she was not able to go into the -Gardens because they had been closed to the public. They had been turned -over to the military to be used as a center for the mobilization of -supplies. She could see men in khaki everywhere, going about their work -with a sort of merry energy. "Back to the army agin, Sergeant, back to -the army agin." Unconcerned by the crisis which had fallen upon England -and unable to wander along her favorite paths, she turned away just at -the moment when a large car, followed by a line of motor busses and -heterogeneous traffic, was being held up by a policeman to enable a -company of boy scouts to cross the high road. She heard a shout. She saw -a man in khaki with a red band round his cap and much brass on its peak -and two long lines of ribbons on his chest become suddenly athletic -under the stress of great excitement. The next instant her hand was -seized and she looked up. It was Chalfont. - -"I was just going to think about you," she said. - -"I've never stopped thinking of you," said Chalfont. "What became of -you? Where did you go? Where have you been? I searched every hotel in -the town. I've been almost through every street, like Gilbert a Beckett, -calling your name. Good God, why have you played with me like this?" - -Somehow, for all his height and finish, in spite of his uniform and his -big car and his obvious importance, he reminded her of Simpkins. ("Lola, -I love you.") The same emotion was in the voice, the same desire in the -eyes. What _was_ there in her that made her do this thing to men,--while -the one man was unattainable, unapproachable? It was a difficult world. - -"I'm very sorry," she said. "I had to go away that night. But I was just -on the verge of thinking about you again. You can't think how glad I am -to see you." - -Still holding her hand as though he would never let her escape, Chalfont -mastered his voice. "You little lovely de Breze," he said, not choosing -his words. "You strange little bird. I've caught you again and I've a -damned good mind to clip your wings and put you in a cage." - -And Lola laughed. "I've always been a canary," she said, "and some day -you may find me in a cage." But she didn't add, "not your cage, however -golden." Fallaray's was the only cage and if that were made of bits of -stick it would be golden to her. - -"Well, you're back in town. That's the chief thing. Get into my car and -I'll drive you home and let's do something to-night. Let's dine at the -Savoy or the Carlton. I don't care. Or don't let's dine. Anything you -like, so long as you're with me. I've got to go along to the War Office -now, but I have my evening off, like any factory hand." And he drew her -towards the car, which was waiting by the curb. - -"You can drive me as far as Marble Arch," said Lola. "I must leave you -there because I want to buy something in Bond Street." - -"All right, Bond Street then. I want to buy something there too." He -helped her in and said to his man, "Masterman's, quick." - -The scout master who had drawn his company up against the railings gave -a command as Chalfont helped Lola in. The boys presented arms and -Chalfont returned their salute with extreme gravity. "The future -strike-breakers of the country," he said. "The best institution we've -got.--How well you look. Don't you think you might have sent me a line? -I felt like a man in a parachute dropping from twenty-two thousand feet -in the dark when I found that you had left me. It was rather a rotten -trick of yours." - -"It was very rotten," said Lola, "but it couldn't be helped, and I may -have to do it again. I don't want you to ask me why. I don't want you to -ask me anything. There's a wee mystery about me which I must ask you to -respect. Don't think about it. Don't let it worry you, but whenever we -go out again just let me disappear. One of these days I'll tell you all -about it, General, and probably you will be very much amused." She ran -her finger along his ribbons and gave him a little smile of respect and -admiration which almost made him blush. "Well, then," she added, "what -about to-night? I'm free. That's why I was just going to think of you -and really wasn't a bit surprised when you suddenly pounced upon me. -Things happen like that, don't they? I can meet you at the Savoy or the -Carlton or anywhere else you like. Personally, I'm all for the Carlton." - -"The Carlton then," he said. "Seven-thirty, and after that,--what?" - -"Let's leave it," said Lola. "I love doing things on the spur of the -moment." - -"You swear you'll come?" - -And Lola made a little cross over her heart. - -Chalfont heaved a sigh and settled back and looked at her, longing to -touch her, longing, in front of all the world, to draw her into his arms -and kiss her lips. God, if only this girl knew what she had done to -him.--And all the while the car bowled along, competing with every other -type of car for precedence, all selfish and many badly driven. Lola had -no eyes for the undercurrent of excitement that gave the crowds the look -that they had worn in the first days of the War or for the outbreak of -khaki that lent the streets their old familiar appearance. She was -thinking ahead and making plans and tingling at the idea of dipping once -more into the current of life. - -Masterman's, it turned out, was a florist's shop, filled attractively -with lovely blossoms. Chalfont sprang out and gave Lola his hand. "Come -in," he said, "and tell them where to send enough flowers to make a -garden of your house. Please,--to celebrate my having found you at -last." He wished to Heaven that he might have taken her to Aspray's and -covered her with diamonds. He would willingly have gone broke to do her -honor. - -And one of the men came forward to offer his eager services to one who -certainly must be of great importance to appear so plainly dressed. - -"How kind of you," said Lola. "Those, then," and she pointed to a bunch -of proud red roses that were standing in a vase. - -"Is that all?" - -"I want to carry them," she said. - -Chalfont was almost boyishly disappointed. He would like to have -pictured her among a riot of color. He had not brought her there with a -Machiavelian desire to hear her give her address. He was not that kind -of man. "Won't you have some more?" - -But somehow--what was it in her that did these things to men--Lola could -see the inn at Wargrave, its orchard and its smooth lawn with little -tables under the trees and the silver stream near by, and hear the -words, "I love you, Lola; am I good enough----" And she shook her head. -"No more," she said. "They're lovely," took them from the man and put -them to her lips. - -Chalfont gave his name and followed her to the street. "Now where?" he -asked. - -Lola held out her hand. "Nowhere else. I'm walking. A thousand thanks. -Seven-thirty, the Carlton then." - -And once more Chalfont saluted, not as though to a company of boy scouts -but to a queen. - -And when he had gone, Lola heaved a great big sigh and put the roses to -her heart. If they had come from Chilton Park--if Fallaray had cut them -for her--If. - - - - -PART V - - - -I - - -Fallaray had been lunching with George Lytham at his rooms in the -Albany. There had been half a dozen of the men who backed -_Reconstruction_ to meet him. From one o'clock until three every one of -the numerous troubles which affected England had been discussed and -argued about,--disarmament, unemployment, the triple alliance, -Mesopotamia, Indian unrest, the inevitable Ireland, the German chicanery -and the hot-tempered attitude of France in the matter of Ruhr; and, as -though with an impish desire to invent new troubles, George Lytham had -brought up the subject of Bolshevism in the universities. Every one of -the men present had, of course, his own pet solution to these questions, -and as usual, argument had run about like a terrier out for a -walk,--backwards and forwards and in circles. Finally, with his head in -a whirl, Fallaray had broken up the party to go along to the House. He -was down to answer questions from the critics of the Government, and, -according to his custom, to dodge the truth as far as he could. He -walked out into Piccadilly with his host and together these two tall -men, who were giving themselves up to an apparently abortive attempt to -put together again the peace of the world--deliberately and ruthlessly -smashed by the country which now whined and squealed and cried out -excuses while it hid money and machine guns in secret places--made for -Westminster arm in arm. - -"Where's your car?" asked young Lochinvar. - -"I gave it up," said Fallaray. "The sight of our unemployed going about -in processions made the keeping of a car grotesque. I've tried to cut -down in every other way too. If I were a bachelor, I would let the house -in Dover Street, go and live in two rooms and give the money I thus -saved to the fund for out-of-work soldiers. I can't do that. There's -Feo." - -Lytham nodded and said to himself, "Yes, there's Feo and her old scamp -of a father and Gilbert Jermyn,--with nothing back from any of them, not -even gratitude." If he had stood in Fallaray's shoes he would long since -have brought an action for divorce against that woman and gone in quest -of a girl who understood the rudimentary rules of sportsmanship and the -art of give and take. He held in utter contempt the old adage that -having made your bed it is necessary to lie upon it. What bosh that was. -Wasn't the town full of beds of every size and price? Sometimes, when he -thought of the way in which Fallaray permitted himself to be run and -worked and milked and used by his so-called wife and her family, by the -Government, by all sorts of societies and even by himself, a huge -impatience swept over him and he wanted to cry out, "Fallaray, for God's -sake, kick somebody. Don't be so damned fair. Give a little -consideration to yourself. Don't always look at everything from -everybody else's point of view. Be selfish for a change." - -And yet, all the while, different as he was from Fallaray in nature and -character--with that strong streak of ruthlessness which permitted him -to climb over the bodies of his opponents--Lytham loved Fallaray and -would willingly have blacked his boots. There were moments when, looking -into the eyes of his friend, he saw behind them a spirit as pure, as -unselfish and as merciful as that of Christ, and he stood back, almost -in awe. It was all the more galling, therefore, to see his friend hipped -and hedged in by the rotten tricks of his party, by the quick shifting -changes of his chief and by the heavy blundering of the other old bad -men. How could he stand it? Why didn't he give it all up, get out, try -and find a corner of the earth where people didn't quarrel and -cheat,--and fall in love. He needed, no man more so, the "rustle of -silk." - -Fallaray was on his own chain of thought. "Hookwood's line about the -Irish leaders," he said suddenly, "if based on any truth, makes -negotiations with them futile. They have got a great deal of American -money in their possession,--every Irish servant girl in the United -States has been forced by the priests to subscribe to the Sinn Fein -funds. We know that. But if, as Hookwood says, the Irish Republican -leaders are afraid of an inquiry as to how they have spent or misspent -these funds, it stands to reason that they will continue to fight tooth -and nail for something which they know they can never get. It's the only -way in which they can maintain a barrier between themselves and disgrace -and that brings us back to the beginning. Robert Cecil, Lord Derby, -Horace Plunkett, Philip Gibbs and all the rest of us may just as well -toss up the sponge. Don't you think so, Lytham?" - -"Oh, God," said Lytham, "I'm sick of the Irish. The mere mention of the -name gives me jaundice. A rabble of egomaniacs led by a set of crooks -and gunmen who are no longer blessed by the Roman Catholic Church." - -After which, as this was certainly a conversation stop, there was -silence. They walked down St. James's Street into the Mall, through the -Horse Guard's parade to Parliament Street and so to the courtyard of the -House of Commons. The undercurrent of excitement and activity brought -about by the strike was noticeable everywhere. Military lorries carrying -men and kit moved about. St. George's barracks was alive with recruits -and old soldiers going back. In and out of the Horse Guards ex-officers -in mufti came and went. The girls who had served in the W. A. A. C.'s -streamed back again to enroll, and through it all, sarcastic emblems of -a peace that did not exist, sat the two figures on horseback in their -plumes and brass. - -"London enjoying itself," said Fallaray ironically. "There is the taste -of blood in the mouths of all our people. Fighting has become a habit, -almost a hobby." - -And young Lochinvar nodded. Would he ever forget the similar scenes that -had taken place away back in that August of '14? - -"I'm tired," said Fallaray, with a groan. "I'm dog-tired. If Feo were -not at Chilton Park this weekend, I would escape after question time and -go down and lie on the earth and sleep.--Well, good by, my dear lad. -Don't be impatient with me. Bring out your numbers of _Reconstruction_, -hit hard and truly from the shoulder and see what you can do, you young -hot-heads. As for me----!" - -They stood on the edge of the courtyard with all its indifferent pigeons -struggling for a living, oblivious to the intricacies, secrecies and -colossal egotisms of the men who passed into the House. But before they -separated something happened which made both their hearts beat faster. - -A tall, primly dressed elderly man, who had apparently been waiting, -sprang forward, a glint of great anger in his eyes and two spots of -color on his pale cheeks. He said, "Mr. Fallaray, a word with you, Sir." - -And Fallaray turned with his usual courtesy and consideration. "What can -I do?" he asked. - -"I'll tell you what you can do. You can stop showing sympathy for the -Irish murderers and assassins. You can stop pussyfooting. You can -withdraw all your remarks about reprisals. That's what you can do. And -if you're interested, I'll tell you why I say so." His voice shook and -blood seemed to suffuse his pale eyes. - -"My only son went all through the War from the beginning to the end. He -joined as a Tommy because, as an insignificant doctor, I had no pull. He -was promoted to a commission for gallantry and decorated with the M. C. -for distinguished work in the field. He was wounded three times--once so -severely that his life was given up--but he returned to his regiment and -finally marched with it into Germany. He was almost the last officer to -be demobbed. After which, failing to get employment because patriots are -not required in the city, he volunteered for the Black and Tans. Last -Friday afternoon, in the course of carrying out orders, he was set upon -in the streets of Cork by a dozen men in masks, foully murdered and -hideously desecrated. My God, Mr. Fallaray, do you wonder that my blood -boils when I hear of your weak-kneed treatment of these dirty dogs?" - -He stood for a moment shaking, his refined face distorted, his gentle -unathletic figure quivering with rage and indignation. Then he turned on -his heel and went away, walking like a drunkard. - -Fallaray and George Lytham looked at each other and both of them made -the same gesture of impotence. - -It was a difficult world. - - - -II - - -Fallaray's position in the Cabinet was a peculiar one. It was rather -like that of a disconcerting child in the house of orthodox church -people who insisted on asking direct and pertinent questions on the -Bible story, especially after having read Wells's first volume of the -"Outline of History." How did Adam and Eve get into Eden? If God never -sleeps, isn't he very cross in the morning? And so on. - -All through the War, Fallaray had been a thorn in the side of his chief. -His honesty and his continual "why" were a source of irritation and -sometimes of anger. He had no patience whatever with shiftiness, -intrigue and favoritism, the appointment of mere duffers to positions of -high responsibility. He made no bones whatever about expressing his -opinion as to the frivolity that prevailed in certain quarters, together -with the habit of dodging every grave issue. On the question of the -League of Nations too, he was in close accord with Lord Robert Cecil and -often made drastic criticisms of the frequent somersaults of his chief. -His definite stand on the Irish question was extremely annoying to the -brass-hat brigade and to the master-flounderer and weathercock, who -showed himself more and more to be a mixture of Billy Sunday and Mark -Anthony, crying out that black was white at one end of the town and ten -minutes later that white was black at the other end. And yet, when it -came to results, Fallaray might almost as well have been on the town -council of Lower Muddleton as in the Cabinet of the British Government. -Respected for his faithfulness to duty, he was disliked for his honesty -and feared for his utter disregard for personal aggrandizement and the -salary that went with it. - -No wonder, therefore, that he was tired. He had been under a long and -continual strain. In Parliament he found himself still dealing with the -men who had suffered from brain anaemia before the War and had, -therefore, been unable ever to believe, in spite of Lord Roberts, that -war was possible,--that same body of professional politicians who were -mentally and physically incapable of looking at the numerous problems of -the hour, the day and the week with sanity and with courage. At home--if -such a word could be used for Dover Street--there was Feo, who had no -more right to be under his roof than any one of the women that passed -him in the street. He was a tired and lonely man on the verge of -complete disillusionment, disappointed with his fellow Ministers and -deeply disappointed with the suspicion and jealousy which had grown up -between England and her allies. It seemed to him, also, that the blank -refusal of the United States to have anything to do with the League of -Nations, even as revised from the original draft of President Wilson, -the Messiah who had failed to function mainly because of the personal -spite of the Republican leaders, jeopardized the future of the world and -gave Germany a springboard which one of these days she would not fail to -use. In spite of her reluctantly made promises, she was very busy -inventing new and diabolical weapons of war and taking out patents for -them in Washington, while pretending to observe the laws laid down by -the Allies as to her disarmament and the manufacture of war materials -under her treaty obligations. Krupps had designed new methods of -artillery fire control, new fuses for projectiles, new gas engines, new -naval fire-control devices, new parts for airplanes, new chemicals and -new radio apparatuses. To what end? In the face of these facts he could -perfectly well understand the French attitude, hysterical as it seemed -to be. They knew her for a liar, a cheat and an everlasting enemy and -whenever Fallaray returned from those interminable conferences in Paris, -he did so with the recollection upon him of something in the eyes of -Foch and other Frenchmen whose love of country was a religion that put a -touch of fear into his soul. What were they all doing, these politicians -of England, of the United States, of Italy? Were they not those very -same ostriches who during all the years that led up to the War had -hidden their heads in the sand,--the same heads, precisely the same -sand? - -As he entered the House that afternoon to be heckled with questions -which he dared not answer truthfully, he wished that he had been born -not to politics but to sportsmanship. He wished that he had carried on -his undergraduate love of games, had kept himself fit, had joined the -army as a subaltern in August, '14, and had found the German bullet upon -which his name had been written. In such a way, at any rate, he could -better have served his country than by being at that grave moment an -impotent piece on the political chessboard. Both publically and -privately this man felt himself to be a failure. In the House of Commons -he was more or less friendless, regarded as an unreliable party man. In -his home he was a lodger, ignored by the woman who ran his house. He was -without love, joy, kindness, the interest and devotion of any one sweet -person who could put her soft fingers on his forehead and give him back -his optimism. He was like Samson shackled to the windlass which he -pushed round and round with gradually diminishing strength. - - - -III - - -Lola spent the afternoon with Ernest Treadwell. Loyalty to her old -friend took her to the public library on her way back to lunch to ask -him to fetch her for a little walk in the afternoon. The flash of joy -that came into that boy's eyes at the sight of her rewarded her well and -sufficiently. To tell the truth, she would much have preferred to devote -the whole of that afternoon to daydreams, but she knew, no one better, -the peculiar temperament of young Treadwell and his hungry need of the -inspiration which she alone could give him. But just as the boy arrived, -a telegram was handed in addressed abruptly to "Breezy, 77 Queen's Road, -Bayswater." It was opened, naturally enough, by John, who, to the -astonishment of half a dozen customers, emitted a howl of rage. Getting -up from his chair behind the glass screen, he wobbled into the back -parlor where Lola was seated with Ernest, deciding as to whether they -should take the motor bus to Wimbleton Common or the train to Windsor. -With an air of comic drama, though he did not intend it to be comic, the -watchmaker flung the telegram upon the crowded table. The remains of -lunch hobnobbed with kodaks, tissue paper, balls of string and empty -cardboard boxes. The telegram fell on a pat of butter and to Ernest -Treadwell's imaginative eye it looked like a hand grenade stuck into a -blob of clay. To him, somehow, there was always something sinister about -a telegram. Was this one going to ruin the brief happiness of his -afternoon? - -It was from Feo and ran like this. "I shall need you at six o'clock. -Sorry. You had better be at Dover Street at five-thirty. Am dining in -town." - -Lola read these words over again and again. Windsor was impossible. Even -the trip to Wimbleton Common could not be made. But how was this going -to affect the Carlton at seven-thirty? She longed above all things once -more to get into the clothes and the proper social surroundings of -Madame de Breze, and hear people talking what had become her own -language and listen to the music of a good orchestra. She felt that she -deserved another adventure with Chalfont. This erratic twist by Lady -Feo, whose movements seemed that week-end to resemble those of the -woodcock, shattered all these plans. At least,--did they? Not if she -knew it. - -"Well, there it is," she said and gave the telegram to Ernest Treadwell, -who had been watching her face with the most painful anxiety. "She who -must be obeyed. I'm afraid this means that all we can do is to wander -about for a couple of hours and that our little jaunt to Windsor must be -postponed. And we never went to Hampton Court to see the crocuses, did -we? Bad luck." - -But while she was speaking, her brain was hitting all its cylinders and -racing ahead. She would go to the Carlton, Lady Feo or no Lady Feo. She -would get her dress from Mrs. Rumbold, with her shoes and stockings, and -take them to Dover Street. She would have to dress at Dover Street, -bribe Ellen to get her a taxicab and slip down at twelve o'clock to let -her in to the area door. That must be the plan of action, whatever the -risks might be. - -She sprang to her feet and flung an arm round her father's neck,--her -disappointed, affectionate father who had looked forward to a merry -evening at the local music hall and to one of the old-time Sundays when -he could march out in his best clothes and show off Lola to the -neighbors. "It's life, Daddy," she said. "It can't be helped. You have -your wrist watches. I have Lady Feo. What's the good of grumbling? Tell -Mother when you get the chance. At the moment she is busy and mustn't be -disturbed. Come on, Ernest, let's go." - -But Ernest had other views, now that the country was impossible. "I've -got something in my pocket I want to read to you," he said. "Might we go -up to the drawing-room, do you think?" - -That was excellent. That made things ever so much easier. She could give -Ernest until four o'clock or a little after and then get rid of him, go -round to Mrs. Rumbold and get eventually to Dover Street in time to have -everything ready for Lady Feo on her arrival. - -And so they went upstairs and opened up the aloof room, with its -persistent and insular odor of the Sabbath and antimacassars, and drew -up chairs to the window. The row of houses opposite, which had been -converted into shops, was bathed in the afternoon sun. A florist's -windows alight with flowers looked like a line from Tennyson in the -middle of a financial article in a newspaper. Traffic roared in the -street below but did not quite succeed in drowning a weather-beaten -piano accompanying a throaty baritone singing, "She dwelt amid the -untrodden wiys.--And h'oh the differ-rence ter me." - -With a thoughtfulness that seemed to Ernest Treadwell to be exquisite, -Lola shut the window so that she might not miss a single word that she -was about to hear. Without any preliminaries and with the colossal -egotism that is part and parcel of all writing, the young librarian took -from his pocket a wad of manuscript, and in a deadly monotone commenced -to read his epic. It was in blank verse and ran to about sixteen pages. -It retold the old story of Paola and Francesca, not in the manner of -Stephen Phillips and not in imitation of Masefield or any of the younger -poets, but in the Treadwell way,--jerky, explosive and here and there -out of key; but for all that filled with a rough picturesqueness and -passion, with a quite extraordinary sense of color and feeling which -held Lola breathless from beginning to end. It was this boy's greatest -effort, on which he had been working for innumerable months, burning the -midnight oil with the influence of Lola upon him, and his great love -which lifted him into ecstasy.--And when he had finished and ventured to -look into her face, he saw there something that crowned his head with -laurels and filled his heart with tears. - -"Oh," she said. "Oh.--Ernie, you've done it. It's beautiful. You are a -poet. However far behind them all, you are in the line of great -singers." And she reached out for the manuscript and saw that on the -first page, in angular boyish writing, were the words, "To Lola,--of -whom I dream." - -Simpkins, Treadwell, Chalfont,--but, oh, where was Fallaray, her hero, -the man who needed love? - - - -IV - - -When Feo bounced into her room a little after five-thirty she found a -perfectly composed and efficient Lola who had laid out a selection of -her mistress's most recent frocks with the accompanying shoes and -stockings. There was nothing about the girl to indicate her latent -excitement and her determination under any circumstances to keep her -appointment at the Carlton. The cardboard box from Mrs. Rumbold's was up -in her room. Ellen had been interviewed and had promised to slip down -and open the area door at twelve o'clock. - -Feo nodded and gave one of her widest smiles. "Good for you, Lola," she -said. "If you had been out for the day or something, I should, of -course, have been able to do my hair, dress and get off,--but not so -well as when you're here. If it came to a push I suppose I could do -everything for myself, even cook my breakfast; but I should hate it and -it wouldn't give me any pleasure.--That one," she said, and pointed to a -most peculiar frock that looked like the effort of that -overconscientious chameleon when it endeavored to imitate the tartan of -the Gordon Highlanders. It was a very chaos of colors, but she was in -the highest spirits and evidently felt in a riotous mood. And while she -gave herself up to Lola, in order to have a few deep waves put in her -wiry bobbed hair, she babbled as though she were talking to Mrs. Malwood -or one of her other particular friends. - -"I don't know what the devil's happened to this week-end," she said. -"Every blessed thing's gone wrong. That glossy scoundrel at -Chilton,--good Lord, I must be more careful,--and all those dullards at -Aylesbury! We played bridge nearly all night and no one ever doubled. It -was like going to a race meeting and finding the anti-vice brigade where -the bookies ought to be. I simply couldn't stay there another night, so -I slept until four o'clock this afternoon, had a cup of tea in my room -and dashed up. To-night I hope for better things. An old friend of -mine--and really old friends have their points--got back from India -yesterday. I saw his name in the paper and rang him up at the Rag. We're -going to dine and dance and so forth, quite like old times; so do your -best with me, Lola. I haven't seen this man for five years.--Don't allow -any of them to remain round my eyes.--Oh, by the way, I'm really awfully -sorry to have smashed up your plans and I don't see how you can go back -to your father and mother to-morrow because I shall want to be dressed -about ten o'clock and I shall be home again to sleep. So it pretty well -rots your day, Lola. Never mind, I'll see that you have a little holiday -before long." - -And she smiled up into Lola's face and for the moment looked very -womanly and charming and perfectly sincere. For all her curious tangents -and unexpected twists and the peculiar hardness and unscrupulous -selfishness that she brought into her dealings with every one, this -woman had good points; and even when she hurt her friends deeply she had -an unexplainable knack of retaining their loyalty. She really liked Lola -and admired her and would have gone very far out of her way to look -after her.--The pity of it was that she had not been born a man. - -She babbled on while Lola polished her up and did all those quite -unnecessary things which modern life has invented for women before they -will show themselves to the public. In the frankest possible way and -without the least reserve she roughed out the history of the man who had -come back,--a pucca soldier who had been in India since the War and was -one of Feo's earliest friends. He had loved her violently, been turned -down for Fallaray and had never married. It so happened that he had not -seen Feo during his periods of leave while the War was on and had told -her over the telephone that if he didn't see her then, at once, he'd -either have apoplexy or be taken to Bow Street for smashing the town. -Feo laughed when she repeated this. - -"And he would too," she said. "He's just that sort. Those tall, dark men -with a dash of the Oriental in them somewhere go through life with the -apparent indifference of a greyhound until the bursting point comes, and -when they give way,--whew, look out for the splinters." - -She was excited,--almost as excited as Lola was. And finally, dressed -and scented, with her nails pink and her full lips reddened, she had -never looked more characteristically Feo, more virile, more audacious, -more thoroughbred and at the same time more bizarre. "Now for the Ritz," -she said (Ah, then the Carlton was safe), turned at the door and in a -moment of impulse took a diamond bracelet from her wrist and pitched it -at Lola as though it were a tennis ball. "You're a jolly good sportsman, -child," she added, with her widest smile. - -All the way downstairs she sang an aria from "Le Coq d'Or,"--a strange, -wistful, moonlit thing.--And hardly had she gone before Lola seated -herself at the dressing table, where she commenced those operations -which would transform her also into a woman of the world. - - - -V - - -And then, with her nose in the air and her hands folded over her tummy, -Miss Breezy marched into the dressing room. "Oh," she said, which was -quite enough. - -And Lola sprang to her feet, caught in the act of using her mistress's -make-up. But it was so long, or it seemed to be so long, since she had -held any conversation with her aunt that nearly all sense of -relationship had faded out. This was Miss Breezy the housekeeper, -natural enemy of servants and on the lookout especially to find -something which would form the basis of an unfavorable report in regard -to Lola. - -"Good afternoon, Miss Breezy." - -"Oh, don't be absurd. I'm your aunt and there's no getting away from it. -This playing of parts makes me impatient." Her tone was snappy but there -was, oddly enough, nothing antagonistic in her expression. On the -contrary--and this put Lola immediately on her guard--there was all -about her a new air of armistice, an obvious desire to call off -unfriendly relations and bury the hatchet. - -The thought that ran through Lola's head was, "What does she want to -know?" - -With a touch of the adventurous spirit for which Lola had not given her -credit, the good lady, who had recently somewhat increased in bulk, -clambered into Feo's extraordinary chair, in which she looked exactly as -if she were waiting to have a tooth filled. Her thinning hair, streaked -with white, was scrupulously drawn away from her forehead. Her black -shiny dress was self-consciously plain and prim, and she wore those very -ugly elastic-sided boots with patent leather tips that are always -somehow associated with Philistinism. She might have been the Chairwoman -of a Committee of Motion Picture Censorship. "I spent Thursday evening -with your mother and father," she said. "I'm glad to hear business is -improving. Young Treadwell was there,--a precocious sort of person, I -thought." - -"A poet," said Lola. - -"Poet, eh? Yes, I thought he was something of that sort. If I were his -mother I'd spank the poetry out of him. What do we want poets for? Might -as well have fiddlers to imitate whatever the man's name was who played -frivolous tunes when some place or other was burning. Men should work -these days, not write sloppy things about gravestones." - -"He'll make his mark," said Lola. - -"You should say a scratch," corrected Miss Breezy. "However, that isn't -the point. It appears that Simpkins has become a friend of the family." - -Ah, so that was it. She had heard the gossip about Simpky and it was -curiosity, not kindness, which had brought her into the dressing room. - -"Simpkins," said Miss Breezy, "is a warm member. His father left him -some money and he has saved. For Ellen, for Elizabeth or even for Annie, -whose father is a Baptist minister, he would make a very desirable -husband. I have nothing to say against him--for them," and she looked -Lola fully and firmly in the eyes. - -And Lola nodded with entire agreement, adding, "Simpky is a good man." - -"So there's nothing in that, then? Is that what you mean?" - -"Nothing," replied Lola. - -And Miss Breezy gave a sigh of relief. It was bad enough for her niece -to have become a lady's maid. - -Would she go now? Or was there something else at the back of her mind? - -For several minutes Miss Breezy babbled rather garrulously about a -number of quite extraneous things. She talked about the soldiers in the -park, the coal strike, what was likely to happen during the summer, the -effect of unemployment on prices, all obviously for the purpose of -presently pouncing hawk-like on the unsuspecting Lola,--who, as a matter -of fact, had no intention of falling into any trap. "In yesterday's -_Daily Looking Glass_," she said suddenly, "there was a short paragraph -that set me thinking. I don't remember the exact wording but it was -something like this. 'A short time ago a beautiful young French woman, -bearing a name which occupies several interesting chapters in the past -history of her country, paid a brief visit to London, dined at the Savoy -with one of our best known generals and disappeared as though she had -melted with the morning dew. The said general, we hear on the best -authority, was distraught and conducted several days' search for his -dinner companion. Inquiries were made at every hotel in town without -success until the name of de Breze became quite well known." - -Lola had caught her breath at the beginning of this quotation which Miss -Breezy obviously knew by heart, and had metaphorically clapped her hand -over her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. But knowing that her -aunt would turn round and fix her analytical eye upon her, Lola -immediately adopted an attitude of mild impersonal interest. - -The eye duly came, in fact both eyes, and they found Lola polite and -unconcerned, the well-trained lady's maid who was forced to listen to -the gossip of her overseer. So that was what it was! Good Heavens, how -much did this woman know? And was she, acting on instinct, going to stay -in that room until it would be too late for Lola to dress and keep her -appointment "with one of our best known generals"? Never before had Lola -hung so breathlessly on her aunt's words. - -"Did _you_ read these lines by any chance?" - -"No," said Lola. - -"I asked your father if there was anybody of the old name in France and -he said he didn't think so. He said he understood from his grandfather -that the name would die with him. It had already become Breezy in -England. Somehow or other, I think this is rather strange." - -"Oh, I don't know," said Lola. "You see these famous names are never -allowed to die right out. This Madame de Breze is probably an actress -who is just using the name to suit herself. It has a good ring to it." - -"That may be so, and it's true that actresses help themselves to any -name that takes their fancy. You, I remember, when you threatened to go -into the chorus, talked about claiming relationship with Madame de -Breze." And again she darted a sharp look at Lola. - -"I have the right to do that," said Lola quietly, but with a very rapid -pulse. - -"Well, sometimes I go out of my way to satisfy a whim. It so happens -that I have a friend in the detective department at Scotland Yard. I've -asked him to keep his eye open for me and let me know what he finds out. -As soon as he comes to me with any definite information, I'll share it -with you, Lola, you may be sure." - -"Oh, thank you, Auntie. That's very kind of you." - -But being unable to force back a tide of color that swept slowly over -her, Lola opened a drawer in the dressing table and began to put back -the various implements that she had used upon her mistress and herself. -To think of it! It was likely, then, that she was to be watched in -future and that presently, perhaps, the story of her harmless adventures -would become the property of her aunt and her parents, of Treadwell and -Simpkins, and that the detective, whom she could picture with a -toothbrush moustache and flat feet, would one day march into the rooms -of General Sir Peter Chalfont and say to him, "Do you know that your -friend Madame de Breze is a lady's maid in the employment of the wife of -Mr. Fallaray?" - -With the peculiar satisfaction of one who has succeeded in making some -one else extraordinarily uncomfortable, Miss Breezy gathered herself -together, scrambled out of the chair which might have belonged to a -dentist and left the room like an elderly peahen who had done her duty -by the world. - -And then, having locked the door, Lola returned to the dressing table. -"Detective or no detective, I shall dine at the Carlton to-night," she -said to herself. "You see if I don't." - - - -VI - - -"I want you to meet my sister, one day soon," said Chalfont. "She's a -good sort. You'll like her." - -"I'm sure I shall," said Lola. "Will she like _me_?" - -Chalfont laughed and answered the question with a look of complete -admiration. Who could help liking a girl so charming, so frank, so cool, -whose love of life was so young and so peculiarly unspoilt? "You would -do her good," he said. "Her husband was killed a week before the -armistice. She adored him and is a lonely soul. No children, and will -never marry again. She's looking after my place in Devonshire, buried -alive. But I've persuaded her to come to London and hook on to things a -bit and I'll bring you together one day next week,--if you're not going -to disappear again. Are you?" - -Lola shrugged her shoulders. "So far as I know at present, my plans will -keep me in town until the end of June." How could she be more definite -than that? - -So Chalfont had to be satisfied and hope for the best. It was not his -habit to drive people into a corner and force confidences. He had told -Lola where he was to be found and she had promised to keep in touch with -him. That, at any rate, was good. "We haven't decided where to go -to-night," he said. "Don't you think we'd better make up our minds?" - -Lola rose from the table. The pleasant dining room at the Carlton was -still well-filled, and the band was playing one of those French things -with an irresistible march time which carry the mind immediately to the -Alcazar and conjure up a picture of an outdoor stage crowded with -dancing figures seen through a trickle of cigarette smoke and gently -moving branches of young leaves. "Don't let's make up our minds what -we'll do till we get to the very doors. Then probably one or other of us -will have a brain wave. In any case I'm very happy. I've loved every -minute of this evening and it's so nice to be with you again." - -Chalfont touched her arm. He could not resist the temptation. "I'd sell -my soul in return for a dozen such nights," he said, and there was a -Simpkins quiver in his voice and a Treadwell look of adoration in his -eyes. He was in uniform, having later to return to the Guards encampment -in Kensington Gardens. They passed through the almost empty lounge into -the hall with its cases of discreet, ruinous jewelry on the walls under -gleaming lights, and there a man in plain clothes drew himself up as -Chalfont approached and clicked his heels. - -"Oh, hello, Ellingham," said Chalfont. "How are you, my dear chap? -Thought you were in India." - -"I was, Sir. Got back yesterday. Curious place, London, by Jove." - -Chalfont turned to Lola. "Madame de Breze, may I introduce my friend -Colonel Ellingham?" - -Those tall dark men with a touch of the Oriental in them somewhere--Lola -caught her breath, but managed to smile and say the conventional thing. - -But at the sound of her voice, the woman who had been standing with her -back to them, talking to the obsequious _maitre d'hotel_, whirled round. -It was Feo--Feo with her eyes wide and round and full of the most -astonishing mischief and amusement--Feo with her mouth half open as -though she were on the point of bursting into a huge laugh. Lola, that -discreet little Lola, that little London mouse, niece of the stiff old -Breezy, daughter of those little people in Queen's Road, Bayswater, with -a brigadier general, if you please, the famous Sir Peter Chalfont with a -comic cork arm to catch whom every match-making mother had spread her -net for years! - -Without turning a hair, Lola held out her hand impulsively. "My dear," -she said in a ringing voice, "I thought you said that you were going to -the Ritz." - -Her own words as she had left her dressing room came back into Feo's -mind. "You're a jolly good sportsman, child."--Well, although she could -hardly believe her eyes and the incident opened up the widest range of -incredulity, she would show this astonishing girl that there were other -sportsmen about. "We went to the Ritz," she replied, as though to one of -her "gang," "but it looked hideously depressing and so we came on here." -And she went forward and put her arm around Lola's shoulder in her most -affectionate way. How well her old frock came out on that charming -figure. She suspected the shoes and stockings. "So this is what you do, -Lola, when the cat's away!" - -And Lola laughed and said, "Oh, but doesn't one deserve a little holiday -from time to time?" - -"Of course,--and you who are so devoted to good causes." - -"The best of causes and the most beautiful." Lola would return the ball -until she dropped. - -Feo knew this and had mercy, but there was an amazing glint in her eyes. -The little monkey! - -It was obvious to Lola that Feo had not met Chalfont or else that she -had met him and was not on speaking terms. Either way how could she -resist the chance that had been brought about by this extraordinary -contretemps. So she said, "Lady Feo, may I introduce my old friend, Sir -Peter Chalfont,--Lady Feodorowna Fallaray." - -It so happened that these two had not met,--although Feo's was not the -fault. It was that Chalfont disliked the lady and had gone deliberately -out of his way to avoid her acquaintance. He bowed profoundly.--Lola, -her name was Lola. What a dear little name. - -"We've got a box at the Adelphi," said Feo. "Berry's funny and -Grossmith's always good. There's room for four. Won't you come?" What -did she care at the moment whether this invitation made Ellingham's eyes -flick with anger or not. All this was too funny for words.--That little -monkey! - -"Thanks so much," said Lola, with a slight drawl, "but it so happens -that we're going round to the House of Commons to hear a debate. Perhaps -we can foregather some other night." And she looked Feo full in the -face, as cool as a fish. - -It didn't matter what was said after that. There was a murmur from the -other three and a separation, Ellingham marching the laughing Feo away, -Chalfont crossing over to the hatroom, greatly relieved. Lola, alone for -a moment, stood in the middle of what seemed to be an ocean of carpet -under hundreds of thousands of lights, with her heart playing ducks and -drakes, but with a sense of thrill and exultation that were -untranslatable. "What a sportsman," she thought.--"But of course she -noticed her stockings." - -And when Chalfont returned to her side he said, "I don't like your -knowing that woman. You seem frightfully pally. You didn't tell me that -she was a great friend of yours." - -"Well," said Lola, "I haven't told you very much of anything, have I? -That's because I like to hear you talk, I suppose." - -"You draw me out," said Chalfont apologetically. "But what's all this -about the House of Commons? First I've heard of it." - -"Oh, just an idea," said Lola lightly. "Couldn't you wangle it?" She had -caught the word from him. - -"I don't know a blessed soul in that monkey shop, except Fallaray." - -"Who better?" asked Lola. "Let's go round, send in your name and ask Mr. -Fallaray for a card." - -"My dear Lola--I beg your pardon, I mean, my dear Madame de Breze--if -you remember, Fallaray didn't know me from Adam that night at the Savoy. -I really don't think I can push myself in like that, if you'll forgive -me. Let's take a chance at the Gaiety. No one's going to the theater -just now. There's sure to be plenty of room." - -By this time they were in the street, with a huge commissionaire waiting -for a glance from Chalfont to bring up a taxi with his silver whistle. -It was another lovely night, clear and warm and windless,--a night that -would have been admirable for Zeppelins. Lola went over to the curb and -looked up at all the stars and at the middle-aged moon. Think of that -light so white and soft on the old gardens of Chilton Park.--"Don't -let's go in to a fuggy building," she said. "Let's walk. London's very -beautiful at night. If you won't take me to the House of Commons, at any -rate walk as far as the Embankment. I want to see the river. I want to -see the little light gleaming over Parliament. It's just a whim." - -"Anything you say," said Chalfont. What did it matter where they went, -so long as they were together? Lola,--so that was her name. - - - -VII - - -They crossed to Trafalgar Square, the figure of Nelson silhouetted -against the sky. They went down Northumberland Avenue to the Embankment -and crossed the road to the river side. The tide was high but the old -river was deserted and sullen. Westminster Bridge faced them, alive with -little lights, and on the opposite bank the dark buildings ran along -until they joined the more cheerful looking St. Thomas's Hospital, whose -every window was alight. Pre-war derelicts who were wont to clutter the -numerous seats were back again in their old places, their dirty ranks -swelled by members of the great new army of unemployed. Many of these -had borne arms for England and wore service ribbons on their greasy -waistcoats. Two or three of them, either from force of habit or in a -spirit of irony and burlesque, sprang up as Chalfont approached and -saluted. It threw a chill through his veins as they did so,--those -gallant men who had come to such a pass. The House of Commons and the -Victoria Tower loomed ahead of them. - -To Chalfont, Parliament stood as a mere talking shop in which a number -of uninspired egotists schemed and struggled in order to cling to office -and salaries while the rest answered to the crack of the party whip and -used whatever influence they had for -self-advertisement,--commercializing the letters which they had bought -the right to place against their names. He detested the place and the -people it sheltered and regarded it as a great sham, a sepulchre of -misplaced hopes and broken promises. But to Lola, who walked silently at -his side, it symbolized the struggles of Fallaray, stood dignified and -with a beautiful sky line as the building in which that man might some -day take his place as the inspired leader of a bewildered and a patient -country. And as she walked along on the pavement which had been worn by -the passing of many feet, glancing from time to time at the water over -which a pageant of history had passed, her heart swelled and her love -seemed to throw a little white light round her head. Was it so absurd, -so grotesque, that she should have in a sort of way grown up for and -given herself to this man who had only seen her once and probably -forgotten her existence? Sometimes it seemed to her not only to be -absurd and grotesque but impudent,--she, the daughter of the Breezys of -Queen's Road, Bayswater, the maid who put waves into the wiry bobbed -hair of an irresponsible lady of fashion, and who, from time to time, -masqueraded in the great city under the name of a relative long since -dead and forgotten. Nevertheless, a tiny figure at the side of Chalfont, -her soul flowered at that moment and she knew that she would very -willingly be burnt at the stake like Joan of Arc if, by so doing, she -could rub away from Fallaray's face even one or two of the lines of -loneliness which life had put upon it. - -Chalfont was silent, because he was wondering how far he dared to go -with this girl who had talked about a "wee mystery" and who did not hold -him in sufficient confidence to tell him where she lived or let him see -her home. This was only the second time that he had met her and he asked -himself with amazement whether it could be true that he was ready to -sacrifice career, position and everything else for her sake. There were -other women who had flitted across his line of vision and with whom he -had passed the time. They had left him untouched, unmoved, a confirmed -bachelor. But during the days that he had spent in an eager search for -Lola he knew that this child had conquered him and brought him down with -a crash. He didn't give a single curse who she was, where she came from -or what was this mystery to which she referred. He loved her. He wanted -her, and he would go through fire and water to make her his wife. And -having come to that conclusion, he broke the silence hitherto disturbed -only by the odd wailing of machinery on the other side of the river and -by the traffic passing over Westminster Bridge like fireflies. He put -his hand under Lola's elbow, stopped her and drew her to the stonework -of the embankment. "In an hour or two," he said, "I suppose you will -disappear again and not give me another thought until you cry out, -'Horse, horse, play with me,' and there isn't a horse. I can't let that -happen." - -Instinct and the subconscious inheritance of a knowledge of men kept -Lola from asking why not. The question would obviously provide Chalfont -with a dangerous cue. - -So Chalfont went on unhelped. He said, "Look here, let's have all this -out. I want you to marry me. I want you to be perfectly frank and treat -me fairly. You're a widow and you appear to be alone. I don't want to -force your hand or ask you to haul down your fourth wall. Nor do I hope -that you will care more about me than any girl after two meetings. I -just want to know this. Are there any complications? Is there anything -in the way of my seeing you day after day and doing my utmost to show -you that I love you more than anything on earth?" - -Simpkins, Treadwell, Chalfont. But where, oh, where was Fallaray? - -Lola didn't know what to say. What was there in her that did these -things to men? She looked up into Chalfont's face and shook her head. -"You're a knight," she said. "You stand in silver armor with a -crusader's cross on your chest. You came to my rescue and proved that -there are good men in this world. You have made an everlasting friend of -me but,--I love some one else. Oh, Sir Peter Chalfont, I love some one -else. He doesn't know it. He may never know it. I may never see him -again. I may die of love like a field daisy put in a dry vase, but when -I cross the Bridge I shall wait until he comes, loving him still." - -Leaning on the parapet side by side they watched the waters go by, dark -and solemn, undisturbed even by the passing of a barge, licking the -stonework away below. And as they stood there, moved to great emotion, -Big Ben sang the hour. It was ten o'clock. On a seat behind them four -men were grouped in attitudes of depression,--hungry, angry. A little -way to their right stood that place in which the so-called leaders sat -up to their necks in the problems of the world, impotent, bewildered. - -And finally Chalfont said, "I see. Well, I wish you luck, little Lola, -and I congratulate you on loving like that. Oddly enough, we both love -like that. I wish to God----" - -And as Lola moved away she put her hand through his arm as a sister -might have done, which was better than nothing; and they walked back -along that avenue of broken men, that street of weary feet, up -Northumberland Avenue and back into the lights and the whirl. "I think -I'll leave you now," said Lola. "There's a cold hand on my heart. I want -to be alone." - -And so, without a word, Chalfont hailed a passing taxi, opened the door, -handed Lola in, and stood back, very erect, very simple, with his cork -arm most uncomic. And before the cab started he flung up his left hand -to the peak of his cap, not as though saluting a company of boy scouts -or a queen, but the woman he loved, the woman he would always love, the -woman for whom he would wait on the other side of the Bridge. - -And all the way to Dover Street Lola wept. - - - -VIII - - -In the servants' sitting room Simpkins was sitting alone, not reading, -not smoking; thinking of Lola and of the inn at Wargrave which had -become so detestable,--a dead ambition, the ghost of a dream. And when -the door opened and Lola let herself in, tear-stained, he sprang to his -feet, gazing in amazement. Lola--dressed like a lady--crying.--But she -held up her hand, went swiftly across the room and out, upstairs. She -was back an hour and a half too soon. There was no need for Ellen to -slip down and open the door. The evening had been a dismal failure. It -would be a long time before she would play Cinderella again,--although -the Prince loved her and had told her so. - -But instead of going through the door which led to the servants' -quarters, she stood for a moment in the corridor through which Simpkins -had taken her when she had first become an inmate of that house and once -more she stayed there against the tapestry with a cold hand on her -heart. Simpkins loved her. Treadwell loved her. Chalfont loved her, but -oh, where was Fallaray? What a little fool she had been ever to suppose, -in her wildest dreams, that Fallaray, Fallaray would see her and stop to -speak, set alight by the love in her eyes! What a silly little fool. - -A door opened and Fallaray came out,--his shoulders rounded, his -Savonarola face pale and lined with sleeplessness. At the sight of the -charming little figure in evening dress he drew up. Mrs. Malwood -perhaps, or another of Feo's friends. She was entertaining again, of -course. - -And Lola trembled like a frightened bird, with great tears welling from -her eyes. - -Fallaray was puzzled. This child did not look like one of Feo's -friends,--and why was she crying? He knew the face, he remembered those -wide-apart eyes. They had followed him into his work, into his -dreams,--de Breze, de Breze,--the Savoy, the Concert. - -He held out his hand. "Madame de Breze," he said, "what have they done -to you?" - -And she shook her head again, trembling violently. - -And Fallaray, with the old curious tingle running through his veins, was -helpless. If she wouldn't tell him what was the matter, what was he to -do? He imagined that some flippancy or some sarcasm had wounded this -astonishing girl and she had fled from the drawing-room and lost her -way. But women were unknown to him, utter strangers, and he was called -to work. He said, "My wife's room is there," stood irresolute for a -moment, although his brain was filled with the songs of birds, and bowed -and went away. - -And when Lola heard the street door close, she moved like a bird shot -through the wings, fumbled her way to the passage which led to her -servant's bedroom and flung herself face downwards upon her bed. What -was it in her that did these things to every man,--except Fallaray? - - - - -PART VI - - - -I - - -To Ellingham's entire satisfaction, Feo did not sit out the performance -at the Adelphi. She left in the middle of the second act. It was not a -piece demanding any sort of concentration. That was not its metier. It -was one of those rather pleasant, loosely made things, bordering here -and there on burlesque, in which several comedians have been allotted -gaps to fill between songs which, repeated again and again, give a large -chorus of pretty girls an opportunity of wearing no dress longer than -five minutes or lower than the knees. But Feo's mind was wandering. The -last twenty-four hours had been filled with disappointment. She agreed -with the adage that if you can't make a mistake you can't make anything. -But this last one, which had taken the Macquarie person into her circle -of light, proved to her that she was losing not only her sense of -perspective but her sense of humor. It rankled; and it continued to -rankle all through the jokes and songs and horseplay of the company -behind the footlights that Saturday night. - -Then, too, she found herself becoming more and more disappointed in -Ellingham. He had aged. Still just on the right side of forty, he seemed -to her to have had all the youth knocked out of him. His resilience had -gone--sapped by the War--and with it his danger, which had been so -attractive. He was now a quiet, repressed, responsible, dull--yes, -dull,--man; in a sort of way the father of a family. When he talked it -was about his regiment in India, his officers, his quartermaster -sergeant, the health of his men, the ugly look of things in the East. -All this made it seem to Feo that Beetle Ellingham had pulled away from -her, left her behind. She was still fooling, while he, once as -irresponsible as herself and almost as mad, had found his feet and was -standing firmly upon them. Disappointment, disappointment. - -"What to do?" she asked, as they got into a taxicab. She rather hoped -that he would say "Nothing. I'll see you home and say good night." - -But he didn't. "I'll drive you home and talk for an hour, if you can -stand such a thing. I'm going to see my old people in Leicestershire -to-morrow, and I don't suppose I shall be back in town for a month or -two." - -She told him to make it Dover Street, and he did so, and there was -silence until the cab drew up at the door of the house in which the -man--whom she had for the first time seriously considered as the new -Messiah--burnt himself up in the endeavor to find some solution to all -the troubles of his country, and, like a squirrel in a cage, ran round -and round and round. - -Feo let herself in and led the way to what she called her den,--a long, -low-ceilinged room, self-consciously decorated in what purported to be a -futuristic manner, the effect of which, as though it had been designed -by an untrained artist striving to disguise his ignorance behind a chaos -of the grotesque, made sanity stagger. And here, full stretch on an -octagonal divan, she mounted a cigarette in her long green holder and -commenced to inhale hungrily. - -Hating the room and all its fake, Ellingham, who more than ever -justified the nickname of Beetle which had been given to him at Eton -because of his over-hanging black eyebrows, prowled up and down with his -hands in his pockets. He, too, was disappointed. It seemed to him that -Feo had remained the hoyden, the overgrown, long-legged girl with boy's -shoulders and the sort of sex illusiveness which had so greatly -attracted him in the old days, and had set him to work to eliminate and -replace. But now she was thirty something, and although he hated to use -the expression about her of all women, he told himself that she was -mutton playing lamb, and a futile lamb at that. Perhaps it was because -he had been all the way through the War and had come out with a series -of unforgettable pictures stamped upon his brain that he had expected to -find some sort of emergement on the part of Feo, who, although she had -been spared the blood and muck of Flanders, was the sister of a flying -man, the relation of innumerable gallant fellows who had been made the -gun fodder of that easily preventable orgy, and the friend of many a -young soldier whose bones now lay under the shallow surface of French -earth. So far as she was concerned, he could see that the War might -never have happened at all. It made him rather sick. Nevertheless he had -loved her violently and had never married because of his remembrance of -her and he wanted to find out how she stood. He was entirely in the -dark. He had not been alone with her once since the end of July, -1914,--a night on the terrace of a house overlooking the Thames at -Cookham, when all the world already knew that slaughter was in the air -and the wings of the angel of death rustled overhead. - -He stopped in front of her, all stretched out among cushions, her short -and pleated frock making her appear to be in a kilt. "Well, how about -it?" he asked. - -And she shrugged her shoulders and tossed the ash of her cigarette at a -small marble pot. "I dunno," she said. "Pretty badly, one way and -another." - -"How's that?" - -"Oh, I dunno," she said again. "One gets nowhere and does really nothing -and spends one's life looking for something that never turns up,--the -glamour of the impossible. Disappointment, disappointment." - -"H'm," said Beetle. "Is there no chance of your getting on better with -Fallaray? He seems to be the only live creature in politics, the one -honest man." He had never imagined that he would ever have put that -question to her. - -"That's true," said Feo. "He is. I have nothing but admiration for -Edmund,--except dislike. Profiles and tennis are no longer my hobbies -and there is no more hope of our getting on, as you call it, than of my -becoming an earnest worker among the slums. Once Feo, always Feo, -y'know. That's the sentence I labor under, Beetle. As a rule, I'm -perfectly satisfied and have no grumbles. I rot about and play the giddy -ox, wear absurd clothes, do my best to give a jar to what remains of -British smugdom and put in a good-enough time. You mustn't judge me as -you find me to-night. I have the megrims. Ghosts are walking and I'm out -of form. To put it truthfully, I'm rather ashamed of myself. I've become -a little too careless. I must relearn the art of drawing the line. -That's all. But, for the Lord's sake, don't let me depress _you_,--that -is, if I have any longer the power of doing so." - -She hadn't, he found, and it hurt. In the old days he would have said so -and in a sort of way got even with her for turning him down and marrying -Fallaray. He would have taken a certain amount of joy in hitting her as -hard as he could. But he had altered. He was not the old Beetle, the -violent, hot-tempered, rather cruel individualist. Men had died at his -side,--officers and Tommies. And so his days of hurting women were over. -He was rather a gentle Beetle now. Curious how things shaped themselves. -And so he prowled up and down with his hands in his pockets, -inarticulate, out of touch,--like a doctor in a lunatic asylum, or an -Oxford man revisiting the scenes of his giddy youth in his very old age. - -And Feo continued to smoke,--smarting. Not because she cared for Beetle -or had ever given him a thought. But because everything was edgeways, -like a picture puzzle that had fallen in a heap. She would have given a -great deal to have had this man take his hands out of his pockets and -stop prowling and become the old violent Beetle once again. She would -have liked to have heard him curse Fallaray and accuse her of being a -rotter. She would have liked to have seen the old hot look in his eyes -and been compelled to laugh him off, using her old flippant words. -Anything,--anything but the thing that was. - -But even as he prowled--up round the wispy table and down in front of -that damn-fool altar, or whatever it was--he became more and more the -ancient friend, distantly related, who had little to talk about and -little that he cared to hear. Once more he went over all the old India -stuff, the regiment, the officers and men, their health, the underlying -unrest of the East. Then he jerked, as a sudden glorious new thought, to -his people and the place they lived in, but all the same this -unsatisfactory reunion lasted twenty minutes less than the given hour. - -Suddenly Ellingham stopped walking and stood in front of Feo and said, -"Good-by. I don't suppose I shall see you again." And wheeled off and -went, quickly, with relief. - -And when Feo heard the front door bang, she remained where she was lying -until the hour was fulfilled, with the hand that he had shaken all -stiff, and with two tears running slowly down her face. - -Disappointment.--Disappointment. - - - -II - - -Lola woke early and went to the window and pulled up the blind. The sun -was shining and half a dozen London sparrows were chirping and hopping -about in the back yard of one of the houses in Bond Street. One poor -anaemic tree stood in the middle of it, and an optimist, condemned to -live in the city, had worked on the small patch of earth and made a -little garden where cats met at night and sang duets and swore, and -talked over all the feline gossip of the neighborhood, fighting from -time to time to keep their claws in, to the cruel derangement of the bed -of geraniums, which looked that morning as though the Germans had passed -over it. - -All Lola's dreams during the night had been filled with tragedies, but -the effect of the one that was upon her still was that she had died, -withered up, after having been left by Fallaray in the corridor where -she had been caught by him in tears,--unable, because, for some reason, -there had been a cold hand on her heart, to jump at the great and -wonderful opportunity that had come to her and which she had worked so -long to achieve. And in this last just waking dream, the reality of -which still left her awed, she had stood, bewildered, on the unfamiliar -side of a short wide bridge, to be faced suddenly by a scoffing and -sarcastic woman who had taunted her for her impotence and lack of grit -and called her middle class, without cunning and without the necessary -strength to be unscrupulous, so vital to success. - -And as she stood facing a new day with these words ringing in her ears, -she told herself that she ought to have died, that she deserved death, -for having lost her nerve and her courage. She accepted the biting -criticism of the successful de Breze and offered no excuses. This was -far too big a thing to win by a series of easy steps. And up to that -time they all had been easy and had led actually to Fallaray. Everything -seemed to have played into her hands and it was she, Lola, who had -failed. If she had possessed even half the cunning of which the de Breze -had spoken, with what avidity and delight she must have seized her -opportunity when Fallaray had come suddenly upon her. But she had proved -herself to be witless and without daring, a girl who had played at being -a courtesan in a back room, who had sentiment and sympathy and emotion -and whose heart, instead of being altogether set on the golden cage, had -become soft with love and hero worship and the delay of hope,--just Lola -Breezy, the watchmaker's daughter, the little Queen's Road girl -suffering from the reaction of having set alight unwillingly all the -wrong men, stirring, finally, her friend Chalfont, who had been so kind -and good. So that when Fallaray had come to her at last, remembering her -name, she had let him go unstirred, without an effort, because she was -thinking of him and not of herself and her love and the passionate -desire of her life. Yes, she deserved to be dead, because her courage -had oozed out of her finger tips and left her trembling. - -But what was she to do now? Give up? Devote herself to lady's maiding -and develop into an Ellen, or resign from this position and return home -to help her mother in the shop and dwindle into love-sickness? Give up -and shake herself back to a normal frame of mind in which, some day, she -would walk to chapel with Ernest Treadwell,--or go to Chalfont and tell -him the truth and put his love to the test? Or, refusing to own herself -a weakling, a dreamer and a failure, begin all over again, this time -with as much of cunning as she could find in her nature and all the -disturbing influence of that too well-proved gift? Which? - -And the answer came in a woman's voice, ringing and strong. "Go on, go -on, de Breze. Begin all over again. You were born to be a canary, with -the need of a golden cage. You inherit the courtesan nature; you must -let it have its way. As such there's a man you can rescue, lonely and -starved of love. It is not as wife that he needs you, but as one with -the rustle of silk----" - -"I will go on," said Lola. "I will begin again." And with a high head -once more and renewed hope and eagerness and courage, she set her brain -to work. All the rungs of the ladder were without the marks of her feet. -But she waved her hand to the pathetic patch of miniature garden with -its anaemic city tree, caught its optimism and began to think. Where was -she to begin? - -Into her mind came some of the gossip of the servants' sitting room, to -which as a rule she paid no attention. Ellen had given out that Simpkins -had said that he was to have time off from the following Friday to -Tuesday because Mr. Fallaray had made his plans to go down alone to -Chilton Park for a short holiday. To Chilton Park for a short holiday! -Ah! Here was a line to be followed up. Here was something which might -enable her to pick up the thread again. - -She began to walk up and down her little room, in a nightgown which -certainly did not belong to a courtesan, repeating to herself again and -again "Chilton Park, Chilton Park," worrying the thing out like a -schoolgirl with a difficult lesson. By some means, by hook or by crook, -she also must get to Chilton Park during that time; that was certain, -even if she had to ask Lady Feo to let her give up her position as -lady's maid. But following this thought came another, instantly,--that -she would regret above all things to put her mistress to inconvenience, -because she was grateful for many kindnesses and maids were scarce. And -she was glad that the de Breze could not hear her think and call out -"weakness, weakness." How to get there? How to be somewhere in the -neighborhood so that she might be able to slip one night into the garden -to be seen by Fallaray, and then, for the first time, prove to herself -and to him that she was not any longer the Lola Breezy of Queen's Road, -Bayswater, the little middle-class girl, timid and afraid, but the -reincarnation of her famous ancestress, as she had always supposed -herself to be, and had played at being so often, and had tried to be -during her brief escapes into life. - - - [Illustration: A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.] - - -How?--How? - -She might, of course, ask Lady Feo for a week's leave--a large order--go -to Whitecross and engage a room at the little inn that she had noticed -at the corner of the road at the top of the hill. But what would be the -use of that? How could she play Madame de Breze in such a place, with -one evening frock and her own plain everyday dress with two -undistinguished hats and a piece of luggage that yelled of Queen's Road, -Bayswater? It was absurd, impossible. Brick wall number one. And so she -tackled the task grimly, thinking hard, swinging from one possibility to -another, but with no better luck. Everything came back to the fact that -all her savings amounted to no more than ten pounds. How could she go -forward, unaided, on that? And then in a flash she saw herself at the -house in Kensington Gore with Chalfont and remembered the words of Lady -Cheyne, who, in asking her to come down to her little place in the -country, had said that the garden ran down to Chilton Park. It had been -pigeonholed in her brain and she had found it! And with a little cry of -delight she pounced upon it like a desert wanderer on water. - -Lady Cheyne,--that kindly soul who was never so happy as when giving a -hand to a stray dog. It might easily happen, the weather being so good, -that she had already left town. That would be wonderful. But if not, if -she were still busy with her musicians and their concerts, then she must -be seen and influenced to leave town, or, better still, called up on the -telephone at once. A tired little woman of the world needed a breath of -fresh air and the peace of a country garden. Would Lady Cheyne take -mercy on her, as she took mercy on so many people, and give her this -peace and this quietude?--Yes, that was the way. It was a brain wave. - -Filled with determination no longer to wait for an opportunity, but to -make one, not to rely on fate, as she had been doing, but to treat fate -as though it were something alive, a man--Simpkins, Treadwell or -Chalfont--and cajole him, Lola proceeded to dress, with the blood -tingling in her veins, and imbued with the feeling of one who faces a -forlorn hope. But it was still too early to use the telephone to the -elderly lady who, if she were in town, had probably listened to music -into the small hours. She must wait and go on thinking. There were other -things to overcome, even if this one came right. How to wheedle a -holiday; to hint, if she dared, at her lack of clothes, a suit-case, -shoes. - -The servants' sitting room was empty. On Sunday, the menage, except for -the cook, slept late. And so Lola marked time impatiently, achieving -breakfast from the sulky woman by flattery. Lady Feo had given out that -she was not to be disturbed until her bell rang. She would wake to find -Sunday in London,--a detestable idea. There was nothing for which to get -up. - -Watching a clock that teased her with its sloth, Lola went over and over -the sort of thing to say to Lady Cheyne, disturbed in her current of -thought by the suddenly garrulous cook who insisted on telling the whole -story of her life, during the course of which she had buried a drunkard -and married a bigamist and lost her savings and acquired asthma,--a -dramatic career, even for a cook. But at nine-thirty, unable to control -herself any longer, she ran upstairs to Feo's alarming den, hunted out -Lady Cheyne's number in the book and eventually got into communication -with an operator who might, from her autocratic manner, very easily have -been Mrs. Trotsky, or the wife of a labor leader, or a coal-miner's -daughter, or indeed a telephone operator of the most approved type. - -A sleepy and rather irritable voice said, "Well?--but isn't it a little -early to ring any one up and on a Sunday morning too?" - -Lola made a wry face. That was not a good beginning. And then, in her -sweetest voice, "Am I speaking to dear Lady Cheyne?" - -"Yes, it's Fanny Cheyne, lying in bed with this diabolical instrument on -her chest, but not feeling very dear, my dear, whoever you are, and I -don't know your voice." - -"It's Madame de Breze and I'm so very sorry to disturb you." - -"Why did you then, if I may say so,--de Breze. I'm sorry too, but really -I hear so many names, just as odd.--If it's about being photographed, -please no. I'm far too fat. Or if it's about a subscription for the -starving children of Cochin China, I have too many starving children of -my own." - -Quick, de Breze, quick, before the good old lady cuts off. - -"The Savoy, the little widow, Sir Peter Chalfont, your wonderful house -so full of genius, and what do you do, my dear.--Don't you remember, -dear Lady Cheyne?" - -"Oh,--let me think now." (The tone was brighter, interest was awakening! -Good for you, de Breze.) "My dear Peter with the comic-tragic leg--no, -arm--the Savoy----" - -"You were with Alton Cartridge and the disinfected Russian violinist, -and you betted on my being French and invited me to Whitecross and when -I went up to powder my nose----" - -"You never came back! Golden hair like butter-cups, wide-apart eyes and -fluttering nostrils, a mouth designed for kissing and all about you the -rattle of sex. You dear thing! How sweet of you to ring me up and on a -Sunday too. Where on earth did you go?" - -Go on, de Breze, go on! A little mystery, a touch of sadness, a hint of -special confidence, flattery, flattery. - -"Ah, if only I could see you. I dare not explain that sudden -disappearance over the telephone,--which must have seemed so rude. You -are the only woman in all the world who could keep an amazing secret and -advise a troubled woman in a tangle of romance----" - -"Secret, romance--who but Poppy for that!" - -It worked, it worked! Lola could _see_ the kind little lady struggle -into a sitting posture, alert and keen, her vanity touched. Go on, de -Breze, go on. - -"Ever since then I've been thinking of you, dear Lady Cheyne, and, at -last, this morning, on the spur of the moment, longing for help, driven -into a corner, remembering your kind invitation to Whitecross----" - -"My dear, you excite me and I adore excitement. Of course you must see -me, at once. But to-day's impossible. I've a thousand things to do. And -to-morrow--let me see now. How can I fit you in? Probably you don't want -to be seen at my house or the Savoy, you mysterious thing. So what can -we arrange? I know. I have it. Quite French and appropriate. Meet me on -the sly at a place where no one ever would dream of our being. Mrs. -Rumbold's, a jobbing dressmaker. I'm going to see her to-morrow to alter -some clothes. Castleton Terrace, Bayswater, 22. She used to work for me. -A poor half-starved soul, but so useful. Half-past eleven. And we'll -arrange for a week-end at my place, perhaps, or elsewhere, wherever you -like." - -"Oh, Whitecross, Whitecross,--it sounds so right." - -"And, it is so right,--romance in every rose bowl. To-morrow then, and I -shall love to see you, my dear, and thank you for thinking of Poppy. I'm -so excited. Good-by." - -"Good-by, dearest Lady Cheyne,--a thousand thanks." - -Well played, de Breze. That's the way to do it. Keep on like that and -prove your grit, my dear. - -And presently for Lady Feo, who would certainly have something to say -about the Carlton episode, and if all went well the frocks, the hats, -the shoes,--but nothing yet about the holiday. That must wait until -after the interview at Mrs. Rumbold's to-morrow. - - - -III - - -After all, then, Feo was to spend a dull and dreary Sunday in London; -but she had slept endlessly, hour after hour, and when at last she woke -at twelve o'clock, the sun was pouring into her room. Wonder of wonders, -there was nothing dull about this Sunday! London lay under an utterly -blue sky and those of its people who had not fled from its streets to -the country, afraid of its dreariness, were out, finding unexpected -touches of beauty in their old city and a lull of traffic that was -restful. - -The sight of Lola as she came into the room in the discreet garments of -her servitude brought instant laughter back to Feo's lips. Only a few -hours ago she had been claimed as an intimate friend by the girl, with -all the confidence and aplomb of a member of the enclosure. How -perfectly delightful. She took her cup of tea and sat up in bed, -forgetting everything except the backwash of her great amusement. Madame -de Breze.--By Jove, those quiet ones,--they knew their way about. When -she had been undressed the night before, Feo had been in no mood to -chaff her maid, then a mere human machine, about her general and her -escapade. Depression, disappointment and humiliation had driven the -Carlton incident out of the way. But now the sun was shining again and -she had slept in a great chunk. What did Gilbert Macquarie count in the -scheme of things now, or, for the matter of that, Ellingham? She thanked -all her gods that she possessed the gift of quick recovery. - -And now to pull the little devil's leg. "Oh, hello, old girl," she said, -carrying on her attitude of the previous night, "how awfully nice of you -to bring me my tea." She expected utter embarrassment and confusion, and -certainly an apology. Good Lord, the girl had pinched those stockings! - -But the answer was quiet and perfectly natural. "That's all right, Feo. -Only too glad." - -After the first gasp of surprise there was a loud guffaw. Nothing in -this world was more pleasing to Feo than the unexpected. "Sunday in -London! But this is as good and a jolly sight better than Saturday night -at the Adelphi. Bravo, Lola. The bitter bit. Keep it up. I love it." - -And with her black hair all tousled, her greenish eyes dancing with -amusement, her large mouth wide open and the collar of her black silk -pajamas gaping, she stirred her tea and waited for the fun. - -And seeing that her mistress was all for laughing and that she had hit -the right note, Lola kept it up. Witless and without daring, eh? Well, -wait and see. - -"I rather wish we'd gone on with you to the theater," she said, lighting -a cigarette and sitting on the arm of a chair in a Georgie Malwood pose. -"It might have amused you to see something of Peter Chalfont, who has -refused to join the gang." - -Feo was amazed at the perfection of what was, of course, an imitation of -herself. Breezy's niece was a very dark horse, it seemed. - -"But where the deuce did you pick him up?" she asked, continuing the -game. - -"Oh, my dear, I've known him for years. He was an old pal of the man I -married in my teens and was always hanging about the place. I call him -the White Knight because he has such a charming way of rescuing women in -distress. If you're keen about getting to know him, I'll work it for -you, with all the pleasure in life." - -Back went that black head with hair like a young Hawaiian. Oh, but this -was immense. A lady's maid and a bedside jester, rolled into one. And -how inimitably the girl had caught her intonation and manner of -expression. A born actress, that was what she was. - -"Don't bother about me. What are you going to do with him? That's what I -want to know." - -Lola shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I dunno," she said, with a lifelike -Feo drawl. "What can I do with him? Only trail him round." - -"Marry him, of course. That man's a catch, you fool. Stacks of money, -three show places in the country, a title as old as Rufus, and only one -hand to hit you with." - -"But I'm not marrying," said Lola. - -And that was too much for Feo. She threw the clothes back and kicked up -her heels like a schoolgirl. But before she could congratulate her -lady's maid on a delightful bit of acting and an egregious piece of -impertinence that was worth all the Sundays in London to watch, the -telephone bell rang and brought her back to facts. - -"Just see who that is, will you? And before you say I'm here, find out -who it is." - -"Yes, my lady," said Lola. The little game was over. It hadn't lasted -long. But if it had put her ladyship into a generous mood---- - -It was Mrs. Winchfield, calling up from Aylesbury. - -"Oh, well," said Feo, with the remembrance of great dullness. "Give me -the 'phone and get my bath ready. And tell them to let me have lots of -breakfast in half an hour, here. I could eat a horse." - -"Very good, my lady." - -And when Lola returned, having carried out her orders and still tingling -with the triumph of having proved her courage and her wit, she found -Lady Feo lying in the middle of the room, on her back, doing exercises. -"All the dullards have left the Winchfields'," she said. "There's to be -a pucca man there this afternoon, one I've had my eye on for weeks. -Quick's the word, Lola. Get me dressed and into the car. This is Sunday -and I'm in London. It's perfectly absurd. I shall stay the night, of -course, and I shan't want you till to-morrow at six. What'll you do? -Lunch at the Carlton?" - -"I shall go home, my lady." But the twinkle returned. - -"Oh, yes, of course. I spoilt your holiday, didn't I? By the way, does -your mother know that you're in society now?" - -And Lola replied, "The bath is ready, my lady." - -And once more Feo laughed, lit a cigarette and went towards the -bathroom. Here she turned and looked at the now mouse-like Lola with a -peculiarly mischievous glint in her eyes. "Wouldn't it be a frightful -spree if I went after Peter Chalfont and told him all I know about you?" -Two minutes later she was singing in the bath. - -Tell Peter Chalfont!--But Lola knew that this was an empty threat. Mr. -Fallaray's wife was a sportsman. _Mr. Fallaray's wife_. - -For the first time in all this business, these words stood out in -ghastly clearness, with all that they meant to Lady Feo and her, who was -"after" Mr. Fallaray. Was she, Lola, a sportsman too? The question came -suddenly, like a bomb dropped from a Zeppelin, and drew the girl up -short. But the answer followed quickly and it was Yes, yes, because this -woman was _not_ Fallaray's wife and never had been. - -But there was more than a little irony in the fact that she liked Lady -Feo, was grateful to her, had seen many of her best points and so far as -the Carlton episode went, recognized in her a most unusual creature, -imbued with a spirit of mischief which was almost like that of a child. -And yet for all that, she _was_ Fallaray's wife.--It was more than -conceivable, as Lola could guess, that if the whole story were confided -in detail, with the de Breze background all brought out, Lady Feo would -first of all laugh and then probably help her little lady's maid for the -fun of the thing, and to be able, impishly, one night when she met -Fallaray coming back from the House worn and round-shouldered, to stand -in front of him, jumping to conclusions, and say, "Ha, ha! Sooner or -later you _all_ come off your pedestal, don't you? But look out, Master -Messiah. If the world spots you in the first of your human games, pop -goes the weasel, and you may as well take to growing roses." - -Still singing, and back again in the highest spirits, Feo breakfasted in -her room and Lola dressed her for the country. Not once but many times -during the hour that followed she endeavored to pump Lola about Chalfont -and as to the number of times that she had gone out into "life." But -Lola was a match for her and evaded all questions; sometimes with a -perfectly straight face, sometimes with an answering twinkle in her eye. -Although she was piqued by the girl's continued elusiveness, Feo was -filled with admiration at her extraordinary self-control,--a thing that -she respected, being without it herself. And then Lola, with a little -sigh, and as though drawn at last, got to _her_ point in this strange -and intimate talk. "I'm afraid I shall never be able to see Sir Peter -again," she said sadly. "I have only one evening frock and he has seen -it twice." - -At which Feo went to her wardrobe, flung open the doors, took down dress -after dress, threw them on her bed and said, "Take your choice. Of -course, you can't always wear the same old frock. Sir Galahad has a -quick eye. Take what stockings you need also and help yourself to my -shoes. There are plenty more where these came from,--you little devil. -If you catch that man, and I shan't be a bit surprised if you do, you -will have done something that nearly every girl in society has taken a -shot at during the last five years. I make one bargain with you, Lola, -in return for these things. Spend your honeymoon at Chilton Park and let -me present you at Court." - -An icy hand had touched her heart again. A honeymoon at Chilton -Park,--with Chalfont. - - - -IV - - -And so Lola was free to go home again and spend the remainder of Sunday -with her people, after all. But when, having tidied up and dressed -herself, she ran downstairs into the servants' sitting room on her way -to the area steps, there sat Simpkins, a crestfallen and tragic figure, -looking at a horizon which no longer contained the outline of his dream -upon the banks of the Thames. He got up as Lola entered,--done for, but -in the spirit of a protector, a Cromwellian spirit. "Where 'ad you bin -last night?" he asked, "in them clothes?" He had not slept for thinking -of it. His Lola, dressed like a lady, coming in with a tear-stained -face, late at night, alone, from a devouring world. All his early chapel -stuff had been revived at the sight. Disappointment had stirred it up. - -Another cross-examination! Wasn't the world large enough for so small a -little figure to escape notice? - -"Dear old Simpky," she said, with that wide-eyed candor of hers, "I'm in -such a hurry. With any luck I shall just be able to catch the bus that -will take me home to lunch." - -But Simpkins put his back against the door. "No," he said. "Not like -that. Even if I've lost yer, I love yer, and it's my job to see you -don't come to no 'arm. You've got to tell me what you're doing." - -There was something in the man's eyes and in the whiteness of his face -that warned Lola immediately of the need to be careful. Her mother had -said that Simpkins was a good man with something of ecstasy in his -nature, and she guessed intuitively that the latter might take the form -eventually, in his ignorance and his love, of a dangerous watchfulness. -So she was very patient and quiet and commonplace, remembering a similar -scene which had taken place with Treadwell outside Mrs. Rumbold's -battered house. - -"I went to a concert with a married friend of mine. Lady Feo gave me the -frock. It's very kind of you to worry, Simpky. And now, please----" - -And after a moment's hesitation Simpkins opened the door and with a -curious dignity gave the girl her freedom. He loved her and believed in -her. She was Lola and she was good, and but for some catastrophic -accident she might be engaged to be married to him. - -But Lola didn't go immediately. She turned round and put her hand on the -valet's arm. "What are you going to do?" she asked, affectionately -concerned. - -"There isn't anything for me to do," he said, "now." - -"Come home with me." - -But he shook his head. "I couldn't," he said. "Your father is a friend -of mine and might slap me on the back and tell me to go on 'oping--and -there isn't any--_is_ there?" - -And she said, "No, Simpky dear. I'm sorry to say there isn't. But you -can't sit here looking at the carpet with the sun shining and so much to -see. Why not come on the bus as far as Queen's Road and then go for a -walk. It would do you good." - -And he said, "Nothing can do me good." - -And she could see that he had begun to revel in his pain, and nurse it, -and elevate it to a great tragedy. And for the first time she recognized -in this man a menace to her scheme. He loved her too well and she had -made him a fanatic. - -This scheme of hers, so like one of the Grimm's fairy tales in which the -woodcutter's daughter dared to love the prince,--was it to get all over -the town? Miss Breezy had a friend in Scotland Yard, a detective. Lady -Feo was on the watch, and here was Simpkins turned into a protector. And -all the while Prince Fallaray lived in the same house and did nothing -more than just remember her name, thinking that she was a friend of the -woman who called herself his wife. - -Never mind; the sun was shining, tears had dried, courage had returned, -frocks and shoes and stockings had come and the impossible was one of -the things that nearly always happened. - -An hour later the door of the watchmaker's shop opened in answer to her -knock. There stood the fat man with his beaming smile of welcome and -surprise, and out of the little parlor came an enticing aroma of roast -lamb and mint sauce. - - - -V - - -That evening, controlling her excitement and anxious to make her people -happy, Lola went to the family chapel with them,--the watchmaker in a -gargantuan tail coat, a pair of pepper and salt trousers, and a bowler -hat in which he might have been mistaken for the mayor of -Caudebac-sur-Seine or a deputy representing one of the smaller -manufacturing towns of France. Beside him his little wife stood bluntly -for England. Everything that she wore told the story not only of her -birth and tradition but of that of several grandmothers. There must have -been at that moment hundreds of thousands of just such women, dressed in -a precisely similar manner, on their way to answer the summons of a bell -which was not very optimistic,--the Church having fallen rather low in -popular favor. It had so many rivals and some of them were, it must be -confessed, more in the mood of the times. - -It was a sight worth seeing to watch these Breezys ambling up Queen's -Road, proudly, with their little girl. And it was because Lola knew that -she was conferring a great treat upon her parents that she submitted -herself to an hour and a half of something worse to her than boredom. -Only a little while ago she had looked forward to the evening service on -Sundays and had been gently moved by the hymns, by the reading from the -Scripture and even by the illiterate impromptus of the minister; and she -had found, in moments that were dull, the usual feminine pleasure in -casting surreptitious glances about the small, plain unbeautiful -building to see what Mrs. This wore or Mrs. That. But now she found -herself going through it all like a fish out of water. As Ellingham had -outgrown Lady Feo, so had she outgrown that flat, uninspired, and rather -cruel service, in which the name of God was always mentioned as a -monster of vengeance, without love and without forgiveness, and with a -suspicious eye to the keyhole of every house. With a sort of shame she -found herself finding fault with the rhymes of the hymns, which every -now and then were dreadful, and were, oh, so badly sung; and when a -smug-faced, uneducated man came forward, shut his eyes, placed himself -in an attitude of elaborate piety and let himself go with terrible -unction, treating God and death and life and joy and humanity as though -they were butter, or worse still, margarine, goose flesh broke out upon -her and a curious self-consciousness as though she were intruding upon a -scene at which she had no right to be present. Away and away back, -church had not been like this to her. Out of a dream she seemed to hear -the deep reverberation of a great organ, the high sweet voices of unseen -boys and the soft murmur of an old scholar retelling the simple story of -Christ's pathetic struggle, and of God's mercy.--Oh, the commonplace, -the misinterpretation, the hypocrisy, the ignorance. No wonder the -busses were filled, she thought, the commons crowded on the outskirts of -the city. To her there was more religion in one shaft of evening sun -than in all those chapels put together. - -It was with thankfulness and relief that Lola went back with her parents -to the street and turned into Queen's Road again, which wore a Sunday -expression. Gone for a brief time were the itinerant musicians, the -innumerable perambulators, the ogling flappers with their cheap silk -stockings and misshapen legs, the retired colonels eking out a grumbling -living on infinitesimal pensions. - -"Let's take a little walk," said Mrs. Breezy. "It's nice now. The -Gardens look more like the country in the twilight." - -"Of course," said Breezy, "walk. Best exercise in the world. Oils a man -up." But all the same he didn't intend to go far. Athleticism was a pose -with him. He had grown so fat sitting on that backless chair behind the -glass screen, looking into the works of sick watches like a poor man's -doctor who treated a long line of ailing people. If it wasn't the -mainspring, then it was over-winding. Very simple. - -But Lola steered them away from Kensington Gardens because soldiers were -there under canvas, and Chalfont was in command of the London district, -and it might happen easily that all of a sudden that purring car would -draw up at the curb and her name be called by the man with the cork arm. - -"Let's go the other way," she said, "for a change. I love to look at all -the houses that are just the same and wonder what the people are like -who live in them, and whether they're just the same." - -It was her evening. She was no longer the little girl to be told to do -this or that and taken here and there with or against her will. She had -broken out of all that, rather strangely and quietly and suddenly; and -in a sort of way her parents had become her children. It always happens. -It is one of the privileges of parenthood eventually to obey. It is the -subtle tribute paid by them to a son or daughter of whom they are proud, -who is part of them and who has come through all the vicissitudes of -childhood and adolescence under their care and guidance. It is one of -the nicer forms of egotism. - -And so these three little people, the Breezys, went into the labyrinths -of villadom, up one street and down another. Some of the houses were -smarter than the rest, with little trees in tubs, and Virginia creepers -twined about their pillars, and perhaps a fat Cupid, weather-stained, -standing in a little square of cat-fought garden, or with two small -lions eying each other from opposite sides of the doorway with bitter -antagonism. But the waning light of a glorious day still clung to the -sky, in which an evening star had opened its eye, and even Bayswater, -that valley of similitude, wore beauty of a sort. And all the way along, -up and down and across, the high-sounding names of the various terraces -ringing with sarcasm, they went together, these three little people, one -far from little outwardly, in great affection. To Lola there was -something unreal, almost uncanny about the whole thing. She had grown -out of all these streets, all this commonplace, that entire world. She -felt like some one who hears a very old tune played in a theater and -looks down with surprise and a little thread of pain from a seat in a -box,--a tune which seemed to take her back, away and away to far distant -days, and stir dim memories.--Only last night she had been sitting in -the Carlton with Chalfont as Madame de Breze, and next Friday, if all -went well---- - -With a sudden thrill of intense excitement and longing, she then and -there made up her mind that some day it would be her privilege and joy -to lift those two estimable people out of Queen's Road and place them, -not too old for enjoyment, among spreading trees and sloping lawns and -all the color of an English garden,--away from watches and silver -wedding presents, kodaks and ugly vases, from need of work, from clash -of traffic and the inevitable voices of throaty baritones. Ah, that was -what she wanted to do, so much, and if possible before it was too late. -Time has an ugly way of slipping off the calendar. - -And when, presently, they returned to the shop and let themselves in, it -was Lola, with a curious emotion, because she might never see them again -as she was that night, who got the supper, who placed them, arguing, in -the stuffy drawing-room, and made many journeys up and down the narrow -staircase to the kitchen. "Please," she said. "Please. This is my -evening. Even a lady's maid can lay a supper if she tries hard enough." -And they did as they were told, reluctantly, but delighted,--and a -little surprised. It was something of a change. And before the evening -was over Treadwell came, wearing a flapping tie, the mark of the poet, -and a suit of reach-me-downs egregiously cut but with something in his -face that lived it down,--love. Poor boy, he had a long way to go alone. - -When at last, having said good night, Lola went upstairs to the room in -which she had played that little game of hers so often and sat in the -dark as quiet as a mouse, holding her breath, not one, no, not a single -one of all her old friends came in to see her,--not the ancient marquis -with his long finger nails and curious rings and highly polished boots; -not the gossipy old women in furbelows and dangling beads; not the -gallant courtier with his innuendoes and high flow of compliments; and -not the little lady's maid who was wont to do her hair. They were dead. -But in their place came Fallaray, stooping, pale and bewildered, hungry -for love, hungry for comfort, dying for inspiration and the rustle of -silk. And when he had sat down with his chin in his hand, she crept up -to his chair and went on her knees and put her golden head against his -heart, and said, "I love you. I love you. I've always loved you. I shall -love you always. And if you never know it and never see me and miss me -altogether in the crowd, I shall wait for you across the Bridge,--and -you will see me then." - -But as she got up from her knees, blinded with tears, the voice came to -her again, strong and full. - -"Go on, go on, de Breze,--courage, my girl, courage. You have not yet -won the right to cry." - - - -VI - - -There were two reasons, then, for the visit to Castleton Terrace. - -Feo's handsome present to Lola reacted most favorably upon Mrs. Rumbold -and came at a moment in that poor woman's existence when cash was scarce -and credit nil. Optimism also had been running a little low. But for -this divine gift how many more suicides there would be every year. - -Mrs. Rumbold was sitting in her workroom in the front of the house, -waiting, like Sister Ann, for some one to turn up, when Lola's taxi -stopped at the door, and with a thrill of hope she saw the driver haul -out a large dress case on which the initials F. F. were painted. This -was followed by Lola, an hour early for her appointment with Lady -Cheyne, and they were both met at the top step by the woman who saw -manna. - -"Well," she cried, shabby and thin, with wisps of unruly hair. "You're a -sight for sore eyes, I will say. I knew I was in for a bitter luck -to-day. I read it in the bottom of me cup. Come in, miss, and let's have -a look at what you've brought me." - -The case was deposited in the middle of the room in which half a dozen -headless and legless trunks mounted on a sort of cage were ranged along -one wall, out of work and gloomy. Because the driver had been batman to -a blood in the 21st Lancers, the case was duly unfastened by him,--a -courtesy totally unexpected and acknowledged by Mrs. Rumbold in -astonished English. - -"Thank you very much," said Lola, with a rewarding smile. "It's very -kind of you." - -"Honored and delighted," was the reply, added to by a full-dress parade -salute with the most wonderful waggle before it finally reached the ear -and was cut away.--And that meant sixpence extra. So every one was -pleased. - -And when Mrs. Rumbold, with expert fingers, drew out one frock after -another, all of them nearly new and bearing the name of a dressmaker who -hung to the edge of society by a hyphen, exclamation followed upon -exclamation. - -"Gorblime," she cried out. "Where in the world did you get 'em? I never -see anything like it. It's a trousseau." - -And Lola laughed and said, "Not this time." - -And Mrs. Rumbold started again, putting Feo's astonishing garments -through a more detailed inspection. "Eccentric, of course," she said. -"But, my word, what material, and look at these 'ere linings. Pre-war -stuff, my dear. Who's your friend?" - -And Lola told her. Why shouldn't she? And extolled Lady Feo's -generosity, in which Mrs. Rumbold heartily concurred. "I know what you -want," she said. "What I did to the last one. Let 'em down at the bottom -and put a bit of somethin' on the top. That's it, isn't it?" - -"Yes," said Lola. "That's it. As quickly as you can, Mrs. Rumbold, -especially with the day frocks." - -"Going away on a visit, dearie?" - -"No--yes," said Lola. "I don't know--but, like you, I live a good deal -on hope." - -The woman made a wry face. "Umm," she said. "You can get awful scraggy -on that diet. Keeps yer girlish, I tell yer." And then she looked up -into Lola's face. It was such a kind face, with so sympathetic a mouth, -that she had no hesitation in letting down her professional fourth wall. -"I'd be thankful if you could let me have a bit on account, miss," she -added, with rather pathetic whimsicality. "Without any bloomin' eyewash, -not even Sherlock Holmes could find as much as a bob in this house, and -I have a bill at the draper's to be met before I can sail in and give -'em perciflage." - -"Nothing easier," said Lola, who had come armed to meet this very -request, having imagination. And out came her little purse and from it -five nice pristine one-pound notes which she had most carefully hoarded -up out of her wages. - -And then for an hour and more Lola transferred herself, taking her time, -from frock to frock, while Mrs. Rumbold did those intricate things with -pins and a pair of scissors which only long practice can achieve. But -Lady Cheyne failed to appear. Had she forgotten? Had some one steered -her off? Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes. -Lola's heart began to sink into her shoes. But just as she was about to -lose hope, there was a loud and haughty ring at the bell which sent Mrs. -Rumbold helter-skelter to the window, through which she peered eagerly. -"Well, upon my word," she cried in a hoarse whisper. "If you ain't a -bloomin' mascot. It's Lady Cheyne who used to be one of my best -customers, and I haven't seen 'er for a year." And she ran out excitedly -and opened the door and hoped her neighbors would be duly impressed by -the rather dilapidated Mercedes which was drawn up in front of the -house. - -There was a burst of welcome, and then Lady Cheyne entered the workroom -much in the same way as a broad-beamed cargo-boat floats into harbor. -And then followed another surprise for Mrs. Rumbold, who was in for a -day of surprises, it appeared. "Well, you dear thing, here you are. -Punctual to the minute, as I always am. How are you, and where have you -been, and why haven't you run in to see me, and how sweet you look." And -the kind and exuberant little lady, whose amazing body seemed to require -more than one dressmaker to cover it up, drew Lola warmly to her side -and kissed her. It is true that she had forgotten her name again. She -saw so many people so often who had such weird and unpronounceable names -that she never even made an effort to remember any of them. But that -golden head and those wide-apart eyes reminded her of the conversation -over the telephone, brought back that evening at her house and linked -them with the tall figure of the one-armed soldier,--her dear friend -Peter something, so good looking, _such_ a darling, but _so_ unkind, -never coming near her. "Extraordinary enough, I was thinking of you only -a few nights ago. I was dining at the Savoy and the little crowd who -were with me spoke of you. They had been with me the night I met you -there and were _so_ interested. One of the men said that if I could find -you and take you to his concert he would try and draw your lips to his -with the power of his art. He often says things like that. But he's only -an artist, so it doesn't matter. Mrs. Rumstick, I want you to find -something to do in the next room until I call you. No, leave my things -alone. I'll explain what has to be done to them in my own good time. -That's right.--We're alone, my dear. Now tell me all about it." She sat -on a chair that had the right to groan and caught hold of Lola's hand. - -"It's love," said Lola. - -"Ah!" - -"It's love and adoration and long-deferred hope." - -"Oh, my dear, how you excite me!" - -"And it can't come right without you." - -"Me! Good gracious, but what can I do?" - -Lola leaned closer. The pathetic farcicality of the dear old lady's -wreaths and becks left the seriousness of all this untouched. She -clasped the dimpled hand in both her own and set her will to work. -"Bring us together," she whispered, setting fire to romance, so that -Lady Cheyne bobbed up and down. "Help us to meet where no one can see, -quickly, quickly. The world is getting old." - -"Well, there's the library at Number One Hundred! No one has ever been -in there except me since Willy passed away. You can come there any time -you like and not a soul will see you. And he, if he doesn't mind his -trousers, can climb over the back wall, so that he shan't be seen going -into the house. I wouldn't do it for any one but you, my dear. That room -has dear memories for me." - -Kind and sweet,--but what was the use? It must be Chilton, Chilton, or -nothing at all. And so Lola kissed her gratitude upon the hot, rouged -cheek, but shook her head and sighed. (Go on, de Breze, go on.) - -"He wouldn't dare," she said. "Nowhere in town; it's far too dangerous. -The least whisper, the merest hint of gossip----" - -Lady Cheyne wobbled at the thought. There was more in this than met the -eye,--a Great Romance, love in High Places. How wonderful to be in, -perhaps, on History. "But at night," she said. "Late, when every one's -in bed. I assure you that after twelve One Hundred might be in the -country." - -"Ah," said Lola, "the country. Isn't there some place in the country, -high up near the sky, with woods behind it where we can meet and -speak----" - -"Whitecross!" cried Lady Cheyne, brilliantly inspired. "Made for love -and kisses, if ever there was a place. How dull of me only just to have -thought of that." - -"Whitecross? What is that?" How eager the tone, how tremulous the voice. - -"My darling nest on the Chilterns, where I'm so seldom able to live. If -only I could get away,--but I'm tied to town." - -"Next Friday, perhaps,--that's the last, the very last----" - -"Well, then, it must be Friday. I can't resist this thing, my dear, so -I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll leave on Thursday. It will give a new -bevy of my proteges a little rest and a quiet time for practise. And you -can come down on Friday." - -"You darling!" (Good for you, de Breze. Very well done, indeed.) - -"Now get a pencil and a piece of paper and write everything down. The -station is Princes Risborough." (As if Lola didn't know that!) "You go -from Paddington and you catch the two-twenty arriving there just before -four. I can't send a car to meet you, because my poor old ten-year-old -outside would drop to pieces going up to Whitecross. So you must take a -station cab and be driven up in time for tea, and you will find one -Russian, one Pole, two Austrians, one Dane and a dear friend of mine -with a voice like velvet who was a Checko-Slovak during the War and -German before and after. A very nice lot, full of talent. I don't know -where they're all going to sleep and I'm sure they don't care, so what's -it matter? They'll give us music from morning to night and all sorts of -fun in between. Killing two birds with one stone, eh?" - -Was it the end of the rainbow at last? "Oh, dear Lady Cheyne, what can I -say?" - -"Nothing more, now, you dear little wide-eyed celandine; wait till we -meet again. Run away and leave me to Mrs. Rumigig. It's a case of old -frocks on to new linings. Income tax drives us even to that. But I'm -very glad, oh, so very glad you came to me, my dear!" - -And Lola threw her arms round the collector of stray dogs and poured out -her thanks, with tears. One rung nearer, two rungs nearer.--And in the -next room, having heroically overcome an almost conquering desire to put -her ear to the keyhole, stood Mrs. Rumbold, still suffering from the -second of her surprises. - -"Do your best to let me have two day frocks and an evening frock," said -Lola. "And I will come for them sometime Friday early. Don't fail me, -will you, Mrs. Rumbold? You can't think and I couldn't possibly explain -to you how important it is." - -"Well, I should say not. I should think it is important, indeed! Little -Lola Breezy's doing herself well these days, staying with the nobility -and gentry and all." - -The woman was amazed to the extent of indiscretion. How did a lady's -maid, daughter of the Breezys of Queen's Road, Bayswater, perform such a -miracle? They were certainly topsy-turvy times, these. - -And then Lola turned quickly and caught Mrs. Rumbold's arm. "You are on -your honor to say nothing about me to Lady Cheyne, remember, and if, by -any chance, you mention my name, bear in mind that it is Madame de -Breze. You understand?" - -There was a moment's hesitation followed by a little gasp and a bow. "I -quite understand, Modum, and I thank you for your custom." - -But before Mrs. Rumbold returned to her workroom, in which the trunks -looked more perky now, she remained where she stood for a moment and -rolled her eyes. - -"Well," she asked herself, "did you _ever_? Modum de Breze!--And she -looks it too, and speaks it. My word, them orders! Blowed if the modern -girl don't cop the current bun. It isn't for me to say anything, but for -the sake of that nice little woman in the watchmaker's shop, I hope it's -all right. That's all.--And now, your ladyship, what can I have the -pleasure of doing for you, if you please? And thank you for comin', I'm -sure. Times is that dull----" - - - -VII - - -When Lola went into Feo's room that evening it was with the intention of -asking for her first holiday. It was a large order; she knew that, -because her mistress had made innumerable engagements for the week. But -this was to be another and most important rung in that ladder, which, if -not achieved, rendered useless the others that she had climbed. - -She was overjoyed to find Feo in an excellent mood. Things had been -going well. The world had been full of amusement and a new man had -turned up, a pucca man this time, discovered at the Winchfields', -constant in his attentions ever since. He owned a string of race horses -and trained them at Dan Thirlwall's old place behind Worthing, which -made him all the more interesting. Feo adored the excitement of racing. -And so it was easy for Lola to approach her subject and she did so at -the moment when she had her ladyship in her power, the curling irons -steaming. "If you please, my lady," she said, in a perfectly even voice -and with her eyes on the black bobbed hair, "would it be quite -convenient for you if I had a week off from Thursday?" - -"But what the devil does that matter?" said Feo. "If I don't give you a -week off, I suppose you'll take it." - -Lola's lips curled into a smile. It was impossible to resist this woman -and her peculiar way of putting things. "But I think you know me better -than that," she said, twining that thick wiry hair round the tongs as an -Italian twines spaghetti round a fork. - -"What makes you think so? I don't know you. I haven't the remotest idea -what you're like. You never tell me anything. Ever since you've been -with me you've never let me see under your skin once. I don't even -believe that you're Breezy's niece. I've only her word for it. After -Sunday morning's exhibition, I'm quite inclined to believe that you -_are_ Madame de Breze masquerading as a lady's maid. If the War was -still going on, I might think that you were a spy. A great idea for you -to get into this house and pinch the papers of a Cabinet Minister. Yes, -of course you can have a week off. What are you going to do? Get -married, after all?" - -Lola shook her head and the curl went away from her lips. "I want to go -down to the country for a little rest," she said. - -Something in the tone of Lola's voice caught Feo's ears. She looked -sharply at her reflection in the glass and saw that the little face -which had captured her fancy and become so familiar had suddenly taken -on an expression of so deep a yearning as to make it almost -unrecognizable. The wide-apart eyes burned with emotion, the red lips -and those sensitive nostrils denoted a pent-up excitement that was -startling. What was it that this strange, secretive child had made up -her mind to do--to commit--to lose? "There is love at the bottom of -this," she said. - -And Lola replied, "Yes, my lady," simply and with a sort of pride. And -then took hold of herself, tight. If there had been any one person in -all the world to whom she could have poured out her little queer story -of all-absorbing love and desire to serve and comfort and inspire and -entertain and rejuvenate---- But there wasn't one--and it was Mr. -Fallaray's wife who fished to know her secret. Was it one of the -ordinary coincidences which had brought, them together--meaningless and -accidental--or one of those studied ironies which fate, in its -mischievous mood, indulges in so frequently? - -"It wouldn't have been any good to deny it. It's all over you like a -label. It's an infernal nuisance, Lola, but I'll try and get on without -you. If you're not going to get married, watch your step, as the -Americans say. I don't give you this tip on moral grounds but from the -worldly point of view. You have your living to make and there's Breezy -to think about and your people." - -She put her hand up and grasped the one in which Lola held the tongs, -and drew her round. Strangely enough, this contradictory creature was -moved. Whether it was because she saw in Lola's eyes something which no -one had been able to bring into her own, who can say? "It's a married -man," she told herself, "or it's Chalfont who isn't thinking of -marriage." "Go easy, my dear," she added aloud. "Believe only half you -hear and get that verified. Men are the most frightful liars. Almost as -bad as women. And they have a most convenient knack of forgetting." - -And then she released the girl so that she might resume her job, as time -was short, and she was dining rather early with the new man at Ranelegh -where "Twelfth Night" was to be acted as a pastoral by Bernard Fagan's -players. All the same, her mind dwelt not so much with curiosity as with -concern upon Lola's leave of absence, because she liked the girl and had -found her very loyal, consistently cheery and always ready to hand. - -"Let me see," she said, with an uncharacteristic touch of womanliness -that must have been brought out by the flaming feminism of Lola. "Among -the frocks that I hurled at you on Sunday there's pretty certain to be -something that you can wear. Help yourself to anything else that you -need. You must look nice. I insist on that. And you'll also want -something to put these things in. Tucked away somewhere there are one or -two dress cases without my initials. They've come in useful on other -occasions. Rout them out. I can't think of anything else, but probably -you will." And she waved her hand with those long thin capable fingers, -as much as to say, "Don't thank me. You'd do the same for me if I were -in your shoes." - -But Lola did thank her and wound up an incoherent burst by saying, -"You're the most generous woman I've ever imagined." - -"Oh, well, I have my moments," replied Feo, who liked it all the same. -"Y'see, 'The Colonel's lady and Judy O'Grady are sisters under the -skin.'" She was very generous and very much interested and if the truth -were to be told a little worried too. For all her coolness at the -Carlton, Lola seemed to her to be so young and so obviously -virginal,--just the sort of girl who would make a great sacrifice, -taking to it a pent-up ecstasy for which she might be asked to pay a -pretty heavy price. And it was such a mistake to pay, according to Feo's -creed. - -Finally, dressed and scented and wearing a pair of oddly shaped lapis -earrings, she stood in front of a pier glass for a moment or two, -looking herself over, finding under her eyes for the first time one or -two disconcerting lines. What was she? Ten years older than this girl -whose face was like an unplucked flower? Ten years certainly,--all -packed with incidents, not one of which had been touched by ecstasy. - -When she turned away it was with a short quick sigh. "Damn," she said, -off on one of her sudden tangents. "I can see myself developing into one -of those women who join the Salvation Army because they've lost their -looks, or get out of the limelight to read bitter verses about dead sea -fruit, if I'm not precious careful." And her mind turned back to the -hour with Ellingham in that foolish futuristic room of hers and the way -in which he had paced up and down, inarticulate, hands in pockets, and -eventually been glad to go. Glad to go,--think of it.--Never mind, here -was the man with the race horses. He might be a little medieval, -perhaps. And on her way out she put her hand under Lola's chin and -tilted up her face. "Mf," she said, "you _have_ got it, badly, haven't -you?" - -And Lola replied, "Yes, my lady," and felt as though she had never left -Queen's Road, Bayswater. - -"Well, good luck." And Feo was gone. - - - -VIII - - -So once again Lola stepped out on to the platform of Princes Risborough -station to wait while a sulky porter, thoroughly trades-union in all his -movements, made up his mind to carry Feo's two cases out to a cab. He -first of all read the name on the labels, pronouncing Breze to himself -as it was known to Queen's Road, Bayswater. Then, with great -deliberation and condescension, having placed a new quid in his mouth, -he tilted them on to the barrow and wheeled them along the platform to -the station yard, followed by Lola. "Want a cab?" he asked. To which -Lola replied, "I don't think I'm quite strong enough to carry them -myself." - -And he gave her a quick look. "Cheeky," he thought. "Knows enough -English fer that, all right." Whereupon he chi-iked the cab driver who -was asleep on his box and yelled out, "Don't yer want ter occupy yerself -once in a way? Sittin' up there orl day, doin' nothin'! Do yer good to -'ave my job fer a bit. Come on darn. Give a hand with these 'ere. What -d'yer think I'm paid fer?" - -Lola opened the door of the rickety and rather smelly cab for herself. -Neither of the men had thought of that. And then she handed the porter a -shilling and looked him straight in the face with her most winning -smile. "It doesn't reward you for your great politeness," she said. "But -these are hard times." - -And as the cab drove slowly off, the porter spat upon the coin. What did -he care for snubs? He was as good as anybody else and a damned sight -better, he was, with his labor union and all. Politeness! -Heh!--Missionaries have introduced the gin bottle to the native and -completely undermined his sense of primitive honor while trades unions -have injected the virus of discontent into the blood of the English -workman and made him a savage. - -And so once more the white cross seen above the village; once more the -Tillage with its chapels and other public houses,--warm old buildings as -yet untouched by the hand of progress, which generally means a cheap -shop-front and goods made in Germany; once more the road leading up to -the Chiltons, with the shadows of old trees cast across. Chilton Park -was passed on the right, with its high wall, time-worn, behind which -Fallaray might even then be walking among his gardens. And presently the -cab turned in to the driveway of what had once been a farmhouse, to -which, by an architect who was an artist and not a builder, wings had -been added. The long uneven roof was thatched, the walls all creeper -covered, the windows diamond paned, the door low, wide and welcoming. A -smooth lawn was dignified with old oaks and beeches and ablaze with -numerous beds of sweet Williams and pansies and all the rustic flowers. -A charming little place, rather perhaps self-consciously pretty, like a -set on the stage. But oh, how delightful after Queen's Road, Bayswater, -and the labyrinths of similitude. - -Lady Cheyne was followed to the door by all her guests and for a moment -Lola thought that she had stumbled on a place crowded with European -refugees. A more eccentric collection of human various she had never -seen, even during that epoch-making evening at Kensington Gore. - -"Here you are, then, looking just as if you had stepped out of one of -the pictures in the boudoir of the Duchess de Nantes." Lola received a -hearty kiss on both cheeks, and her hostess took the opportunity, while -so close, of asking an important question in a whisper. "Your name, my -dear. I'm too sorry, but really my capacity for remembering names has -gone all loose like a piece of dead elastic." - -Lola laughed and told her, and then followed her introduction to the -little group of hairy children who were all waiting on tenterhooks for a -chance to act. It was a comical introduction, because by the time Lady -Cheyne had said "Lola de Breze" she had forgotten the names of all her -other guests. And so, with a gurgle of laughter, she pointed to each one -in turn,--and they stepped forward and spoke; first the women, "Anna -Stezzel," a bow and a flash of teeth, "Regina Spatz," a bow and a -gracious smile, and then the men, "Salo Impf," "Valdemar Varvascho," -"Simon Zalouhou," "Max Wachevsky," "Willy Pouff," fired in bass, -baritone and tenor and accompanied by a kiss upon the little -outstretched hand. It was all Lola could do to stop herself from peals -of laughter. - -Zalouhou, the violinist, was one of the biggest men Lola had ever seen. -He stood six foot six in a pair of dilapidated boots and possessed a -completely unathletic figure with hips like a woman, large soft hands -with long loose fingers and a splendid leonine head with a mass of black -hair streaked with white. He towered over the other little people like a -modern Gulliver. His face was clean-shaven, with fine features and a -noble forehead and a pair of eyes which had never failed to do more to -attract crowded matinees of his country women in the old days than the -beauty of his playing and the mastery of his technique. He had only just -arrived in London, penniless, and in a suit of clothes in which he had -slept on many waysides. He had fought for his country and against his -country, never knowing why and never wanting to fight, and all the while -he had clung desperately to his violin which he had played to ragamuffin -troops in order to be supplied with an extra hunk of bread and a drink -of coffee. The story of his five or six years of mental and physical -chaos, every moment of which was abhorrent to his gentle spirit, was -stamped deeply upon his face. - -Even as Lola was being escorted upstairs to her room by a thrilled -country maid, there was a crash upon the piano in the hall and an -outburst of song. What that little house thought of all those -extraordinary people who could not keep quiet under any circumstance -would have filled a book. The ghosts of former residents, farming -people, must have stood about in horror and surprise. And yet, as Lady -Cheyne well knew, they were all simple souls ready to go into ecstasies -at the sight of a daisy and imbued with genuine loyalty towards each -other. - -Lady Cheyne followed Lola up. She arrived in the tiny bedroom, whose -ceiling sloped down to two small windows, breathless and laughing. "You -can't swing a cat in here," she said. "But, after all, who ever does -swing a cat? I hope you'll be comfortable and I know you'll be amused. I -just want to tell you one thing, my dear. You are at perfect liberty to -do whatever you like, to wander away out of range of the piano, with or -without any of my dear delightful babies, or stay and listen to them and -watch the fun. Until sleep overcomes them they will sing and play and -applaud and have the time of their lives,--which is exactly what I've -brought them here to do, poor things. All the men will fall in love with -you, of course. But you're perfectly used to that, aren't you? You'll -look like a miniature among oleographs, but the change will do you good -and show you another side of life. One thing I can guarantee. You won't -be disturbed in the morning before eleven o'clock. No one thinks of -getting up until then. I'm particularly anxious for you to like -Zalouhou. I predict that he will have an extraordinary success in London -when he makes his appearance next week at Queen's Hall. Did you ever see -such a man? If I know anything about it at all, women will rush forward -to the platform to kiss his feet,--not because he plays the violin like -Kreisler but because of those magnetic eyes. Success in every walk of -life is due entirely to eyes. You know that, my dear. And as to the -Great Affair, I will ask no questions, see nothing and hear nothing, but -rejoice in believing that I am being of use. It is exactly right, isn't -it, golden head? Ah, me, those dear dead days. Now come and have some -tea and taste my strawberries. They're wonderful this year." - -But before going down--and how kind everybody was--Lola stood at one of -her windows from which she could see a corner of Chilton Park, and her -heart went out to Fallaray like a white dove. It was in the air, in the -cloudless sky, in the birds' songs, in the rustle of the leaves, in the -beauty and glory of the flowers that her time had come at last, that all -her work and training were to be put to the supreme test. Success would -mean the little gold cage of which she had heard again in her dream but -which would be the merest lead without love. Failure---- - -Her appearance eventually in the hall, a long, many-windowed room, with -great bowls of cut flowers on gate-legged tables and old dressers, was -celebrated by Salo Impf with an improvisation on the piano that was -filled with spring and received with noisy approval. Imbued with a -certain amount of crude tact, the men of the party did nothing more than -pay tribute to Lola with their eyes while they surrounded Lady Cheyne as -though she were a queen, as indeed she was, having it in her power not -only to provide them with bed and board but to bring them out and give -them a chance in a country always ready to support talent. It was a -funny sight to see this amazingly fat, kind woman pouring tea at a tiny -table into tiny cups surrounded by people who seemed to be perpetually -hungry, but who sang even while they ate, and laughed and jabbered in -between. - -"What would Simpkins say if he could see me here?" thought Lola. "And -Mother and Ernest and Sir Peter Chalfont--and Lady Feo?" - -But she felt happy and in a way comforted among these people. Like her, -they were all struggling towards a goal, all striving after something -for which they had served their apprenticeship. Not one of them had yet -successfully emerged and they were living on what Mrs. Rumbold called, -"the scraggy diet of hope." It did her good to be among them at that -moment, to hear their discussions in amazingly broken English of a debut -in London, to be aware of the extraordinary encouragement which they -gave to each other, without jealousy,--which was so rare. She found -herself listening enthralled to the arias sung by Anna Stezzel, and the -Grieg songs which were so perfectly played by Impf. But it was when -Zalouhou stood up with his violin and played some of the wistful folk -songs of his country that she sat with her hands clasped together, -leaning forward and moved to a deep emotion. Hunger, the daily wrestle -with surly earth, illness, the subjection to a crushing autocracy, and -beneath it self-preservation,--they were all in these sad, fierce songs, -which sometimes burst into passionate resentment and at others laughed a -little and jogged along. What a story they told,--so much rougher and so -much sterner than her own. They gave her courage to go forward but they -left her uncertain as to what was to be her next step. - -When Zalouhou played, it was with his eyes on Lola. Her sympathy and -understanding drew out his most delicate and imaginative skill and gave -him inspiration; and when he had finished and laid aside his violin, he -went to the sofa on which she was sitting and crouched hugely at her -feet, and said something softly in his own tongue. He spoke no English, -but she could guess his meaning because in his eyes there was the look -with which she was familiar in the eyes of Treadwell, Simpkins and -Chalfont. And she said to herself, "As there is something in me that -stirs the hearts of men, give me the chance, O God, to let it be felt by -the only man I shall ever love and who is all alone on earth!" And while -the room rang with music, she went forward in spirit to the gate in the -wall of Chilton Park, which she had seen from her window, opened it and -went inside to look for Fallaray. The intuition which had been upon her -so long that she might touch the heart of Fallaray in Chilton Park was -strong upon her then, once more. - -But she had to wait until after dinner before her opportunity came to -slip away, and this she did when her fellow-workers had returned to the -hall, drawn back to the piano as by a magnet. And then she escaped, in -Feo's silver frock, stole into the placid garden which was filled with -the aroma of sweet peas and June roses, went down to the gate in the -high wall, and stood there, trembling. - -(Go on, de Breze, go on!) - - - -IX - - -Except for the servants, Fallaray was alone in his house. - -He had slept late that morning, put newspapers aside, and allowed the -telephone to ring unanswered. He was determined, at least for a few -days, to cut himself off from London and especially from the new and -futile turn that was taking place in politics. It didn't seem to him to -matter that, because his chief had boxed the political compass again -and, like Gladstone, talked with furious earnestness on both sides of -every question only to leave anger and stultification at every step, the -papers were making a dead set at him, holding him up to ridicule and -abuse and working with vitriolic energy against his government at every -bi-election. If this man were dragged at last from the seat that he had -won by a trick and held by trickery, another of the same kidney and -possibly worse principles would be put into his place to build up -another and a similar rampart about himself with bribes and honors. It -was the system. Nothing could prevent it. Professional politicians had -England by the throat and they were backed by underground money and -supported by politically owned newspapers. What use to struggle against -such odds? He wanted to forget Ireland for a little while, if it were -possible to forget Ireland even for so short a space of time as his -holiday would last. He wanted to put out of his mind, the horrible mess -in Silesia which was straining the _entente cordiale_ to the breaking -point, and the bungling over the coal strike, and so he had been -wandering among his rose gardens, hatless, with the breeze in his hair, -and the scent of new-mown hay in his nostrils, listening to the piping -of the thrush, to the passionate songs of larks, and watching bees busy -themselves from flower to flower with a one-eyed industry and honesty -which he did not meet in men. - -He had lunched out on the terrace and looked down with a great -refreshment upon the sweeping valley of Aylesbury, peaceful beneath the -sun. He had slept again in the afternoon, out of doors, lulled by the -orchestra of birds, and had then gone forth to walk behind those high -walls into the forest of beech trees, the dead red leaves of innumerable -summers at their roots, and to listen to the tramping feet of the ghosts -of Roman armies whose triumphs had left no deeper mark on history than -the feet of sea gulls on the sands. And as his brain became quiet and -the load of political troubles fell from his shoulders, he began to -imagine that he was a free man once more, and a young man, and the old -aspirations of adolescence returned to him like the echo of a dream,--to -love, to laugh, to build a nest, to wander hand in hand with some sweet -thing who trusted him and was wholly his. O God, how good. That was -life. That was truth. That was nature. - -And when, after dinner, he strolled out once more to look at the sky -patterned with stars, dominated by a moon in its cold elusive prime, he -was no longer the London Fallaray, round-shouldered, anxious, -overworked, immeshed like an impotent fly in the web of the bad old -spiders. His chin was up, his shoulders back, a smile upon his lips. -That gorgeous air filled his lungs and not even from the highest point -of vantage could there be seen one glimpse of the little light burning -in the tower of the House of Commons. He was nearer heaven than he had -been for a very long time. Exquisite lines from the great poets floated -through his mind and somewhere near a nightingale poured out a love song -to its mate. - -And when presently he took a stand on that corner of the terrace which -overlooked the Italian garden, it seemed to him that the magic of the -moonlight had stirred some of the stone figures to life. The arm of -Cupid seemed to bend and send an arrow into the air and where it fell he -saw a shimmer of silver and heard the rustle of silk. And he saw and -heard it again and laughed a little at the pranks which imagination -played, especially on such a night. And not believing his eyes or his -ears, he saw this silver thing move again and come slowly up along the -avenue of yews like a living star; and he watched it a little -breathlessly and saw that it was a woman, a girl, timid, like a -trespasser, but still coming on and on with her head up, and the -moonlight in her hair,--golden hair wound round her head like an -aureole. And when at last, born as it seemed of moonlight and poetry, -she came to the edge of the terrace and stopped, he bent down with the -blood tingling in his veins, hardly believing that she was there, still -under the impression that he had brought her to that spot out of his -never realized longing and desire, and saw that she was not a dream of -adolescence but a little live thing with wide-apart eyes and red lips -parted and the white halo of youth about her head. - - - -X - - -A bat blundered in between them and broke the spell. - -And Fallaray climbed over the parapet and dropped on his feet at Lola's -side. All that day, as indeed, briefly, in the House, at his desk, at -night in dreams, ever since the introduction at the Savoy, the eyes of -that girl and the thrill of her hand had come back to him like a song, -to stir, like the urge of spring. And here, suddenly, she stood, -moonlit, but very real, in answer to his subconscious call. - -"This is wonderful," he said, blurting out the truth like a naive boy. -"I've been thinking of you all day. How did you get here?" - -His eager clasp sent a rush of blood through Lola's body. His alone -among men's, as she had always known, was the answering touch. "I'm -staying with Lady Cheyne," she said. "I saw the gate in the wall and it -wasn't locked and I tiptoed in." - -"You knew that I was here?" - -"Yes, and I came to find you." She blurted out the truth like an -unsophisticated girl. - -Was it moonlight, the magic of the night, the throbbing song of the -nightingale that made him seem as young as she?--No. What then? And as -he looked into the eyes of that girl and caught his breath at her -disturbing femininity and disordering sense of sex and the sublime -unself-consciousness of a child, without challenge and without coquetry, -he knew that it was something to be summed up by the words "the rustle -of silk," which epitomized beauty and softness and scent, laughter, -filmy things and love. And he thanked his gods that not even Feo and the -wear and tear of politics had left him out of youth. - -And he thanked her for coming to break his loneliness and led her -through the sleeping flowers, and those figures which had died again -since life had come amongst them, to the arbor made of yews where he had -slept that afternoon. And there, high above the sweeping valley among -whose villages little lights were blinking like far-off fireflies, they -sat and talked and talked, at first like boy and girl, meeting after -separation, telling everything but nothing, shirking the truth to save -it for a time, and then, presently, with no lights left below and all -the earth asleep, like man and woman, reading the truth in eyes that -made no effort to disguise it; telling the truth, in broken words; -learning the truth from heart that beat to heart until the moon had done -her duty and stars had faded out and up over the ridge of hills, -reluctantly, a new day came. - - - - -PART VII - - - -I - - -Fallaray was to meet Lola at the gate in the wall at four o'clock. He -wanted to show her how the vale looked in the light of the afternoon -sun. But it was a long time to wait because, instead of going to bed -after he had taken Lola to Lady Cheyne's cottage at the moment when a -line in the sky behind it had been rubbed by a great white thumb, he had -walked up and down the terrace and watched the dawn push the night away -and break upon him with a message of freedom. - -He paced up and down while the soft blur of the valley came out into the -clear detail of corn fields, rolling acres of grass, sheep dotted, a -long white ribbon of road twisting among villages, each one marked by -the delicate spire of an old church, spinneys of young trees and clumps -of old ones, gnarled and twisted and sometimes lonely, standing like the -sentinels that receive "the secret whispers of each other's watch." - -He stood up to the new day honestly and without shame. Like a man who -suddenly breaks away from a Brotherhood with whose creeds he has found -himself no longer in sympathy, he rejoiced in his release. Lola had come -to him at the moment when he was lying on his oars at the entrance to a -backwater. He had been in the main river too long, pulling his arms out -against the stream. He was tired. It was utterly beyond argument that he -had failed. He had nothing in him of the stuff that goes to the making -of a pushing politician. He detested and despised the whole unholy game -of politics. In addition, he had come to the dangerous age in the life -of a man, especially the ascetic man. He was forty. He had never allowed -himself to listen to the rustle of silk. He had kept his eyes doggedly -on what he had conceived to be his job, wifeless. And when Lola came, -the magnet of her sex drew him not only without a struggle but with an -insatiable hunger into the side of life against which Feo had slammed -the door, leaving him stultified and disgusted. He had welcomed in this -girl what he now regarded as the unmet spirit of his adolescence, and he -fell to her as only such a man can fall. The fact that she loved him and -had told him of her love with the astounding simplicity of a child gave -the whole thing a beauty, a depth and permanence that made him regard -the future with wonder and delight, though not yet with any definite -plan. At present this _volte face_ was too astonishing, too new in its -happening, to be dissected and balanced up. For a few days at least he -wanted irresponsibility, for a change. He wanted, like a man wrecked on -the shore of Eden, to explore into beauty and dally, unseen, with love. -The time was not yet for a decision as to which way he would go, when, -as was certain, some one would discover the wreckage and send out a -rescue party. He had promised himself a holiday and all the more now he -would insist upon its enjoyment. Whether at the end of it he would -refuse ever to go back into the main stream, or go back and take Lola -with him, were questions that he was not yet formulating in his mind. -But as to one thing he was certain, even then. Lola was his; she had -brought back his youth like a miracle, and he would never let her out of -his sight. - -He breakfasted in his library, ignoring the papers. Their daily story of -chaos made more chaotic by the lamentable blundering of fools and -knaves, seemed to deal with a world out of which he had dropped, hanging -to a parachute. He went smiling through the morning, watching the clock -with an impatience that was itself a pleasure. He felt the strange -exhilaration of having lived his future with all his past to spend, of -returning as a student to a school in which he had performed the duties -of a Master. And there were times when he drew up short and sent out a -great boyish laugh that echoed through his house, at the paradox of it -all. And once, but only once, he stood outside himself and saw that he -was placing his usefulness upon the altar of passion. And before he -leaped back into his skin and while yet he retained his sanity and cold -logic, he saw that he loved Lola for her golden hair and wide-apart -eyes, her red lips and tingling hand, her young sweet body,--but not her -soul, not the intangible thing in a woman that keeps a man's love when -passion passes. But to this he said, "I am young again. I have the need -and the right. When I have had time to find her soul, she shall have my -quiet love." - -And finally, at three o'clock, with an hour still to drive away, he went -down to the gate in the wall, eager and insatiable to wait for the -rustle of silk. - - - -II - - -Lady Cheyne had encouraged her flock to lateness in order that she might -lock the door after Lola had come back. She was terrified of burglars, -and although she had sold most of her pearls and diamonds to help her -various proteges over rainy days, she shuddered at the thought of being -disclosed by a flash light to a probably unshaven man. Nothing could -shake her from her belief that a man who could go bearded after five -o'clock in the afternoon must be a criminal,--and this in spite of the -fact that she had lived among artists for years. But she was a woman who -cultivated irrational idiosyncrasies as other women collect old fans or -ancient snuffboxes. She would never live in a flat, for instance, -because if she passed away in one it would be so dreadfully humiliating -to be taken down to the street in a lift, head first. - -Becoming irritable from want of sleep, she had kept everybody up until -two in the morning, by which hour even Salo had ceased from Impfing and -Willy could Pouff no more. Zalouhou, who was as natural as a dog, had -yawned hugely. And then, sending her party up to bed, she had proved the -sublimity of her kindness by doing something that she had never done -before. She had left a lamp burning in the hall and the front door wide -open. - -It was four o'clock when, a very light sleeper, she woke at the sound of -creaking stairs and went out, giving Lola time to arrive at her room, to -peer over the banisters to see that the lamp was out and the front door -closed. Then, returning to bed, she lay in great rotundity and with a -wistful smile, to think back to the days when she had been as young and -slim as Lola and just as much in love. - -It was not until after breakfast, at which Lola did not appear, that she -became aware of a curiosity that was like the bite of a mosquito. Where -had that girl been all those hours and who was the man? But it was not a -sinister curiosity, all alive to gather gossip and spread innuendoes, as -women give so much to do. It was the desire to share, however distantly, -in what she had at once imagined was a Great Romance. Age had turned -sentiment into sentimentality in this kind fat lady and she thought of -everything to do with the heart in capital letters. Lola's words in Mrs. -Rumbold's parlor came back to her. "It's love and adoration and -long-deferred hope," and she was stirred to a great sympathy. Shutting -the drawing-room door upon the after-breakfast rush to music, she went -upstairs to Lola's room in the newest wing, distressed at her inability -to creep. The dear thing was in her care and must be looked after. - -It was nearly midday and the house had echoed with scales and badinage, -bursts of operatic laughter and paeans of soprano praise to the gift of -life for an hour and more. And so, of course, she expected to find her -young friend lying in a daydream, reluctantly awake. But when she opened -the door of Lola's room as quietly as she could, it was to see the -silver frock spilt upon the floor like a pool of moonlight and the girl -lying under the bedclothes in the attitude of a child in irresistible -sleep, breathing like a rose. Her golden hair was streaming on her -pillow, the long, dark lashes of her wide-apart eyes seemed to be stuck -to her cheeks. Her lips were slightly apart and one arm was stretched -out, palm up, with fingers almost closed upon something that she had -found at last and must never let go. - -"Love and adoration and long-deferred hope,"--the words came back again -and told their story to the woman of one great love, so that she was -moved to renewed sympathy and re-thrilled. She stood over the slight -form in its utter relax and saw the lips tremble into a smile and the -fingers close a little more. She said to herself, little knowing how -exact was the simile upon which she stumbled, "She has found the gate in -the wall." But before leaving the room to keep her song birds as quiet -as possible, in order that her friend might sleep her fill, she caught -sight of a book that lay open on the dressing table, upon the inner -cover of which was pasted the photograph of a familiar face. -"Fallaray!"--She read the title: "Memoirs de Madame de Breze." And she -looked again at the strong, ascetic face, with the lonely eyes, the -unwarmed lips, the cold high brow. It might have been that of St. -Anthony. - -And she stood for a moment before going down to her children--her only -children--and repeated to herself, with great excitement, her former -thought. "A Great Romance, Love in High Places. How wonderful to be in, -perhaps, on History." - - - -III - - -If, during all their inarticulate talks, Fallaray had ever remembered to -ask Lola about herself, she would have told him, with perfect truth, the -little story of her life and love. She was now wholly without fear. She -had found the gate in the wall and had entered to happiness. But -Fallaray went through that week-end without thinking, accepting the -union that she had brought about without question and with a joy and -delight as youthful as her own. From the time that she had found him at -four o'clock waiting for her, not caring where she came from so that she -came, and saw that she had brushed the loneliness from his eyes and -brought a smile to his mouth, all sense of being merely temporary lifted -from her heart. In the eagerness of his welcome, in the hunger of his -embrace, she saw that she belonged, was already as much a possession and -a fact as the old house, hitherto his one treasure and refreshment. - -They went hand in hand through those lovely days, like a boy and a girl. -He led her from one pet place to another and lay at her feet, watching -her with wonder, or going close to kiss her eyes and hair, to prove -again and yet again that she was not a dream. And every moment smoothed -a line from his face and pointed the way to his need of her in all the -days to come. But while he showed that he had lived his future and had -begun to spend his past, she, even then, forgot her past and turned her -eyes to the future. Those holiday days which bound them together must -come to an end, of course. And while she reveled in them as he did and -avoided any mention of the work to which he must return, she had found -herself in finding him, and becoming woman at last, saw her great -responsibility and developed the sense of protection that grows with -woman's love. - -And this new sense was strengthened and made all the more necessary -because his desire to make holiday had come about through her. And while -she lay in his arms in all the ecstasy of love, she knew that she would -fall far short of her achievement if she should become of more -importance in his life than the work that he seemed to have utterly -forgotten. It was for her, she began to see, to send him back with -renewed energy and fire, and then, installed in a secret nest, to fulfil -the part marked out for her as she conceived it and give him the rustle -of silk. - -If she had been the common schemer, using her sex magnetism to provide -luxuries and security--the golden cage, as she had called it in her -youth--the way was easy. But love and hero-worship had placed her on -another level. Her cage was Fallaray's heart, in which she was -imprisoned for life. Looking into the future with the suddenly awakened -practicality that she had inherited from her mother, she began to lay -out careful plans. She must find a girl to take her place with Lady Feo. -Gratitude demanded that. She would go home until such time as she could -take a furnished flat to which Fallaray could come without attracting -attention. What her parents were to be told required much thinking. All -her ideas of a Salon, of meeting political chiefs, of going into a -certain set of society were foolish, she could see. The second of the -most important of her new duties, she told herself, was to shield -Fallaray from gossip which would be of use to his political enemies and -so-called friends; the first to dedicate her life henceforward, by every -gift that she possessed and could acquire, to the inspiration and the -relaxation of the man who belonged more to his country than he did to -her. - -She knew from the observation of specific cases and from her study of -the memoirs and the lives of famous courtesans that men were not held -long by sex attraction alone, although by that, rather than by beauty -and by wit, they were captured. She must, therefore, she owned, with her -peculiar frankness, apprentice herself anew, this time to the -cultivation of intelligence. She must be able, eventually, to talk -Fallaray's language, if possible, and add brain to what she called her -gift. - -All these things worked in her mind, suddenly set into action like one -of her father's doctored watches, while she wandered through the sunny -hours with Fallaray. All that was French and thrifty and practical in -her nature awoke with all that was passionate and love-giving. And when -at night she had to leave him to return to the cottage of the -sympathetic woman whose discretion deserved a monument, she lay awake -for hours to think and plan. She was no longer the lady's maid, going -with love and adoration and long-deferred hope from one failure to -another, no longer the trembling girl egged forward to a forlorn hope. -She had found the gate in the wall, entered into a golden responsibility -and blossomed into a woman. - - - -IV - - -Feo's new man, Clive Arrowsmith, had driven her down to the races at -Windsor. Two of his horses, carrying colors new to the betting public, -were entered. No one knew anything about them, so that if they won, and -they were out to win, the odds would be good. There was a chance of -making some money, always useful. - -"I rather like this meeting," she said. "It's a sort of picnic peopled -with caricatures," and sailed into the enclosure, elastically, in more -than usually characteristic clothes. She had discarded the inevitable -tam-o'-shanter for once in favor of a panama hat, which looked very cool -and light and threw a soft shadow over her face. She was in what she -called a soft mood,--meaning that she was playing a feminine role and -leading up to a serious affair. Arrowsmith was obviously pucca and his -height and slightness, well-shaped, close-cropped head, small -straw-colored moustache, straight nose, strong chin with a deep cleft, -and gray eyes which had a way, most attractive to women, of disbelieving -everything they said had affected Feo and "really rather rattled" her, -as she had confessed to Georgie Malwood late one night. After her recent -bad picks, which had left a nasty taste of humiliation behind, she was -very much in the mood for an old-fashioned sweep into sentiment. She had -great hopes of Arrowsmith and had seen him every day since Sunday. He -was not easy. He erected mental bunkers. He was plus two at the game, -which was good for hers. Altogether he was very satisfactory, and his -horses added to the fun, on the side. - -"It's rather a pet of mine," he said, looking round with a sort of -affectionate recognition, "because when I was at Eton I broke bounds -once or twice and had the time of my life here. Everything tastes better -when there's a law against drinking. But I never thought I should come -here with you." - -"Have you ever thought about it then?" - -"Yes," he said, leaning on the rail and looking under her hat with what -was only the third of his un-ironical examinations. She had memorized -the other two. Was she approaching the veteran class? "The day you were -married I happened to be passing St. Margaret's and the crowd of -fluttering women held me up. I saw you leave the church and I said to -myself, 'My God, if I ever know that girl, I'll have a try to put a -different smile on her face,'" - -"You interest me, Cupid," she said, giving him a nickname on the spur of -the moment. "What sort of smile, if you please?" - -"One that wouldn't make me want to hit you," he answered, still looking. - -"You'll never achieve your object on the way out of church." - -"No, that's dead certain." - -And she wondered whether he had scored or she had. She would like to -feel that he was hard hit enough to go through this affair hell for -leather, into the Divorce Court and out into marriage. It came to her at -that moment, for the first time, that she liked him,--more than liked -him; that he appealed to her and did odd new things to her heart. She -felt that she could make her exit from the gang with this man. - -As for Arrowsmith, he was sufficiently hard hit to hate Feo for the -record that she had made, sufficiently in love with her to resent her -kite-tail of indiscriminations. He loved but didn't like her, and this -meant that he would unmagnetize himself as soon as he could and bolt. -The bunkers that she had found in his nature were those of -fastidiousness, not often belonging to men. But for being the son of -Arrowsmith, the iron founder, whose wealth had been quadrupled by the -War, he would have been a poet, although he might never have written -poetry. As it was, he considered that women should be chaste, and was -the object of derision for so early-Victorian an opinion. The usual -hobby thus failing, he raced, liking thoroughbreds who played the game. -A queer fish, Arrowsmith. - -Georgie Malwood came up. She was with her fourth mother-in-law, Mrs. -Claude Malwood, whose back view was seventeen, but whose face was older -than the Pyramids. And Arrowsmith drifted off to the paddock. - -But they lunched and spent the day together and one of the horses, -"Mince Pie," won the fourth race at six to one, beating the favorite by -a short head. And so Feo had a good day. They got away ahead of the -crowd, except for the people of the theater, who had to dine early and -steady down before entering upon the arduous duties of the night, -especially those of the chorus who, in these days of Reviews, are called -upon to make so many changes of clothes. Art demands many -sacrifices.--It had been decided that the Ritz would do for dinner and -one of the dancing clubs afterwards. But on the way out Gilbert -Macquarie pranced up to Feo, utterly inextinguishable, with a hatband of -one club and a tie of another and clothes that would have frightened a -steam roller. "Oh, hello, old thing," he cried, giving one of his -choicest wriggles. "How goes it?" - -To which Feo replied, with her most courteous insolence, "Out, Mr. -Macquarie," touched Arrowsmith's arm and went. - -But the nasty familiarity of that most poisonous bounder did something -queer to Arrowsmith's physical sense, and he couldn't for the life of -him play conversational ball with Feo on the road home. "To follow -_that_," he thought, and was nauseated. - -But Feo was in her softest, her most feminine mood. After dinner she was -going to dance with this man and be held in his arms. It was a -delightful surprise to discover that she possessed a heart. She had -begun to doubt it. She had been an experimentalist hitherto. And so she -didn't have much to say. And when they emerged from the squalor of -Hammersmith and were passing Queen's Road, Bayswater, the picture of -Lola came suddenly into her mind, the girl in love, and she wondered -sympathetically how she was getting on. "What shall I wear to-night? I -hate those new frocks.--I hope the band plays Boheme at the Ritz.--No -diamonds, just pearls. He's a pearl man, I think. And I'll brush Peau -d'Espagne through my hair. What a profile he has,--Cupid." - -And she shuddered. She had married a profile, the fool. To be set free -was impossible. The British public did not allow its Cabinet Ministers -to be divorced. - -At Dover Street Arrowsmith sprang from the car. He handed Feo out and -rang the doorbell. - -"You look white," she said. "What's the matter?" - -He was grateful for the chance. "That old wound," he said. "It goes back -on me from time to time." - -"That doesn't mean that you'll have to chuck tonight?" She was aghast. - -"I'm awfully afraid so, if you don't mind. It means bed, instantly, and -a doctor. Do forgive me. I can't help myself. I wish to God I could." - -She swallowed an indescribable disappointment and said "Good night, -then. So sorry. Ring me up in the morning and let me know how you feel." - -But she knew that he wouldn't. It was written round his mouth. And as -she went upstairs she whipped herself and cursed Macquarie and looked -back at her kite-tail of indiscriminations with overwhelming regret. -Arrowsmith was a pucca man. - - - -V - - -Ernest Treadwell watched the car come and go. - -Lola had given out at home that she was to be away with Lady Feo, but -that morning he had seen in the paper that her ladyship was in town. She -had "been seen" dining at Hurlingham after the polo match with Major -Clive Arrowsmith, D. S. O., late Grenadier Guards. Dying to see Lola, to -break the wonderful news that his latest sonnet on Death had been -printed by the _Westminster Gazette_, the first of his efforts to find -acceptance in any publication, Treadwell had hurried to Dover Street, -had ventured to present himself at the area door and had been told by -Ellen that Lola was away on a holiday. - -For half an hour he had been walking up and down the street, looking -with puzzled and anxious eyes at the house which had always seemed to -him to wear a sinister look. If she had not been going away with Lady -Feo, why had she said that she was? A holiday,--alone, stolen from her -people and from him to whom hitherto she had always told everything? -What was the meaning of it?--She, Lola, had not told the truth. The -thought blew him into the air, like an explosion. Considering himself, -with the egotism of all half-baked socialists, an intellectual from the -fact that he read Massingham and quoted Sidney Webb, he boasted of being -without faith in God and constitution. He sneered at Patriotism now, and -while he stood for Trades-Unionism remained, like all the rest of his -kind, an individualist to the marrow. But he had believed in Lola -because he loved her and she inspired him, and without her encouragement -and praise he knew that he would let go and crash. Just as he had been -printed in the _Westminster Gazette_! - -And she had not told the truth, even to her people. Where was she? What -was she doing? To whom could she go to spend a holiday? She had no other -relation than her aunt and she also was in town. Ellen had told him so -in answer to his question.--Back into a mind black with jealousy and -suspicion--he was without the habit of faith--came the picture of Lola, -dressed like a lady, getting out of a taxicab at the shady-looking house -in Castleton Terrace. Had she lied to him then? - -Dover Street was at the bottom of it all, and her leaving home to become -a lady's maid to such a woman as Lady Feo. She must have caught some of -the poison of that association, God knew what! In time of trouble it is -always the atheist who is the first to call on God. - -He was about to leave the street in which the Fallaray house had now -assumed the appearance of a morgue to him when Simpkins came up from the -area, with a dull face. After a moment of irresolution he followed and -caught the valet up. "Where's Miss Breezy?" he asked abruptly. - -Simpkins was all the more astonished at the question for the trouble on -that young cub's face. He looked him over sharply,--the cheap cap, the -too long hair, the big nose, the faulty teeth, the pasty face, the -un-athletic body, the awkward feet. Lola was in love. He knew that well -enough. But not with this lout, that was certain, poet or no poet. "I -don't know as 'ow I've got to answer that question," he said, just to -put him in his place. - -"Yes, you have. Where is she?" - -"You ought ter know." He himself knew and as there was no accounting for -tastes and Lola had made a friend of this anaemic hooligan, why didn't -_he_? He lived round the corner from the shop, anyhow. - -"But I don't know. Neither do her father and mother." - -"What's that?" Simpkins drew up short. "You don't know what you're -talkin' about. She went 'ome last Thursday to get a little rest until -to-morrer,--Tuesday." - -Treadwell would have cried out, "It isn't true," but he loved Lola and -was loyal. He had met Simpkins in Queen's Road, Bayswater, and had seen -him on familiar terms with Mr. Breezy, but he was a member of the -Fallaray household and as such was not to be let into this--_this_ -trouble. Not even the Breezys must be told before Lola had been seen and -had given an explanation. They didn't love her as much as he did,--nor -any one else in the world. And so he said, loyalty overmastering his -jealousy and fear, "Oh, is that so? I haven't had time to look in -lately. I didn't know." And seeing a huge unbelief in Simpkins's pale -eyes, he hurried on to explain. "Being in the neighborhood and having -some personal news for Lola, I called at your house. Was surprised to -hear that she was away. That's all. Good night." And away he went, head -forward, left foot turning in, long arms swinging loose. - -But he had touched the spring in Simpkins to a jealousy and a fear that -were precisely similar to his own. Lola was _not_ at home. Treadwell -knew it and had called at Dover Street, expecting to find her there. -They had all been told lies because she was doing something of which she -was ashamed. The night that she had come in, weeping, dressed like a -lady.--The words that had burned into his soul the evening of his -proposal,--"so awfully in love with somebody else and it's a difficult -world.--Perhaps I shall never be married and that's the truth, Simpky. -It's a difficult world." - -"Hi," he called out. "Hi," and started after Treadwell, full stride. - -But rather than face those searching eyes again, at the back of which -there was a curious blaze, Treadwell took to his heels, and followed -hard by Simpkins, whose fanatical spirit of protection was stirred to -its depths, dodged from one street into another. The curious chase would -have ended in Treadwell's escape but for the sudden intervention, in -Vigo Street, of a policeman who slipped out of the entrance to the -Albany and caught the boy in his arms. - -"Now then, now then," he said. "What's all this 'ere?" - -And up came Simpkins, blowing badly, with his tie under his left ear. -"It's--it's alri, Saunders. A friendly race, that's all. He's--he's a -paller mine. Well run, Ernie!" And he put his arm round Treadwell's -shoulders, laughing. - -And the policeman, whose wind was good, laughed, too, at the sight of -those panting men. "Mind wot yer do, Mr. Simpkins," he said, to the nice -little fellow with whom he sometimes took a drink at the bottom of the -area steps. "Set up 'eart trouble if yer not careful." - -Set up heart trouble? Simpkins looked with a sudden irony at the boy who -also would give his life to Lola. And the look was met and understood. -It put them on another footing, they could see. - -After a few more words of badinage the policeman mooched off to finish -his talk with the tall-hatted keeper of the Albany doorway. And Simpkins -said gravely and quietly, "Treadwell, we've got to go into this, you and -me. We're in the same boat and Lola's got ter be--looked after, by both -of us." - -Treadwell nodded. "I'm frightened," he said, without camouflage. - -"So am I," said Simpkins. - -And they went off together, slowly, brought into confidence by a mutual -heart trouble that had already set up. - - - -VI - - -But there was no uneasiness in Queen's Road, Bayswater. John Breezy and -his good wife were happy in the belief that their little girl was -enjoying the air and scents of the country with her ladyship. They had -neither the time nor the desire to dig deeply into the daily papers. To -read of the weathercock policy of the overburdened Prime Minister, -traditionally, nationally, and mentally unable to deal with the great -problems that followed upon each other's heels, made Breezy blasphemous -and brought on an incapacity to sit still. And so he merely glanced at -the front page, hoping against hope for a new government headed by such -men as Lord Robert Cecil, Lord Derby, Lord Grey and Edmund Fallaray, and -for the ignominious downfall of all professional scavengers, titled -newspaper owners and mountebanks who were playing ducks and drakes with -the honor and the traditions of Parliament. He had no wish to be under -the despotism of a Labor Government, having seen that loyalty to leaders -was unknown among Trades Unionists and that principles were things which -they never had had and never would have the courage to avow. - -As for Mrs. Breezy, she never had time for the papers. She didn't know -and didn't care which party was in power, or the difference between -them, and when she heard her husband discuss politics with his friends, -burst into a tirade and get red in the face, as every self-respecting -man has the right to do, she just folded her hands in her lap, smiled, -and said to herself, "Dear old John, what would he do in the millennium, -with no government to condemn!" Therefore, these people had not seen in -the daily "Chit Chat about Society" the fact that Lady Feo had not left -town. They never read those luscious morsels. Because Lady Feo had not -left town Aunt Breezy had been too busy to come round on her usual -evening, when she would have discovered immediately that Lola was up to -something and put the fat in the fire. And so they were happy in their -ignorance,--which is, pretty often, the only state in which it is -achieved. - -Over dinner that night--a scrappy meal, because whenever any one entered -the shop Mrs. Breezy ran out to do her best to sell something--the -conversation turned to the question of Lola's marriage, as it frequently -did. That public house on the river, with its kitchen garden, still -rankled. "You know, John," said Mrs. Breezy suddenly, "I've been -thinking it all over. We were wrong to suppose that Lola would ever have -married a man like Simpkins." - -"Why? He's a good fellow, respectable, clean-minded, thinks a good deal -of himself and has a nice bit of money stowed away. You don't want her -to become engaged to one of these young fly-by-nights round here, do -you,--little clerks who spend all their spare money on clothes, have no -ambition, no education and want to get as much as they can for nothing?" - -"No," said Mrs. Breezy. "I certainly do not, though I don't think it -matters what you and I want, my dear. I've come to the conclusion that -Lola knows what she's going to do, and we couldn't make her alter her -mind if we went down on our knees to her." - -Breezy was profoundly interested. Many times he had discovered that the -little woman who professed to be nothing but a housewife, and very -rarely gave forth any definite opinions of her own, said things from -time to time which almost blew the roof off the shop. She was possessed -of an uncanny intuition, what he regarded almost as second sight, and -when she was in that mood he squashed his own egotism and listened to -her with his mouth open. - -So she went on undisturbed. "What I think is that Lola means to aim -high. I've worked it out in my mind that she got into the house in Dover -Street to learn enough to rise above such men as Simpkins and Ernest -Treadwell, so that she could fit herself to marry a gentleman. And I -think she's right. Look at her. Look at those little ankles and wrists -and the daintiness of her in every way. She's not Queen's Road, -Bayswater, and never was. She's Mayfair from head to foot, mind and -body. We're just accidents in her life, you and I, John, my dear. She -will be a great lady, you mark my words." - -Breezy didn't altogether like being called an accident. He took a good -deal of credit for the fact that Lola was Mayfair, as Emily called it, -rather well. And he said so, and added, "How about the old de Breze -blood? You forget that, my being a little jeweler in a small shop. She's -thrown back, that's what she's done, and I'll tell you what it is, -missus. She won't be ashamed of us, whoever she marries. _She_ doesn't -look upon us as accidents, whatever you may do, and if some man who's A -1 at Lloyd's falls in love with her and makes her his wife, her old -father and mother will be drawn up the ladder after her, if I know -anything about Lola. But it's a dream, just a dream," hoping that it -wasn't, and only saying so as a sort of insurance against bad luck. It -was a new idea and an exciting one, which put that place on the Thames -into the discard. Personally he had hitherto regarded the Simpkins -proposal in a very favorable light. That little man had more money than -he himself could ever make, and, after all, a highly respectable public -house on the upper Thames, patronized by really nice people, had been, -in his estimation, something not to be sneezed at, by any means. - -"Well," said Mrs. Breezy, "you may call it a dream. I don't. Lola thinks -things out. She's always thought things out. She became a lady's maid -for a purpose. When she's finished with that, she'll move on to -something else. I don't know what, because she keeps things to herself. -But she knows more than you and I will ever know. I've noticed that -often. And when she was here on Sunday, and we walked about the streets, -she was no more Lola Breezy than Lady Feo is, and there was something in -the way she laid the dinner and insisted on waiting on us which showed -me that she knew she wasn't. She was what country people call 'fey' that -night. Her body was with us, but her brain and heart and spirit were far -out of our reach. I'm certain of that, John, and I'm certain of -something else, too. She's in love, and she knows her man, and he's a -big man, and very soon she'll have a surprise for us, and it will _be_ a -surprise. You mark my words." - - - [Illustration: A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.] - - -And when she got up to answer the tinkle of the bell on the shop door, -she left the fat John Breezy quivering with excitement and a sort of -awe. Emily was not much of a talker, but when she started she said more -in two minutes than other women say in a week. And after he had told -himself how good it would be for his little girl to win great happiness, -he put both his pale hands on the table, and heaved a tremendous sigh. -"Oh, my God," he said. "And if she could help us to get out of this -shop, never to see a watch again, to be no longer the slave of that -damned little bell, to go away and live in the country, and grow things, -and listen to the birds, and watch the sunsets." - - - -VII - - -At that moment George Lytham drove his car through the gates of Chilton -Park and up to the old house. He asked for Mr. Fallaray, was shown into -the library and paced up and down the room with his hands deep in his -pockets, but with his chin high, his eyes gleaming and a curious smile -about his mouth. - -The moment had come for which he had been waiting since the Armistice, -for which he had been working with all his energy since he had got back -into civilian clothes. He had left London and driven down to Whitecross -on a wave of exhilaration. There had been a meeting at his office at -which all the men of his party had been present,--young men, ex-soldiers -and sailors temporarily commissioned, who had come out of the great -catastrophe to look things straight in the face. "Fallaray is our man," -they had all said unanimously. "Where is he?" And Lytham, who was his -friend, had been sent to fetch him and bring him back to London that -night. The time was ripe for action. - -But when the door opened and Fallaray strolled in--he had never seen him -stroll before--George drew up short, amazed.--But this was not Fallaray. -This was not the man he had seen the previous Friday with rounded -shoulders, haggard face and eyes in the back of his head. Here was one -who looked like a younger brother of Fallaray, a care-free younger -brother, sun-tanned, irresponsible, playing with life. - -"My dear Fallaray," he said, hardly knowing what to say, "what have you -done to yourself?" - -And Fallaray sent out a ringing laugh and clapped young Lochinvar on the -shoulder. "You notice the change, eh? It's wonderful, wonderful. I say -to myself all day long how wonderful it is." And he flung his hands up -and laughed again and threw himself into a chair and stuck his long legs -out. "But what the devil do you want?" he asked lightly, enjoying the -opportunity of showing the serious man who came out of a future that he -himself had forgotten that he was beginning to revel in his past. "I -said that some one would jolly soon see the wreckage on the shore of my -Eden and send out a rescue party, and here you are." - -Lytham didn't understand. The words were Greek to him and the attitude -so surprising that it awakened in him a sort of irritation. Good God, -hadn't this man, who meant so much to them, read the papers? Wasn't he -aware of the fact that the time had arrived in the history of politics -when a strong concerted effort might put a new face upon everything? -"Look here, Fallaray," he said, "let's talk sense." - -"My dear chap," said Fallaray, "you've come to the wrong man for that. I -know nothing about sense, and what's more, I don't want to. Talk romance -to me, quote poetry, tell me your dreams, turn somersaults, but don't -come here and expect any sense from me. I've given it up." - -But Lytham was not to be put off. He said to himself, "The air of this -place has gone to Fallaray's head. He needed a holiday. The reaction has -played a trick upon him. He's pulling my leg." He drew up a chair and -leaned forward eagerly and put his hand on Fallaray's knee. "All right, -old boy," he said. "Have your joke, but come down from the ether in -which you're floating and listen to facts. The wily little P. M. who's -been between the devil and the deep sea for a couple of years is getting -rattled. With the capitalists pushing him one way and the labor leaders -shouldering him the other, he's losing his feet. The by-elections show -the way the wind's blowing in the country and they've made a draught in -Downing Street. Trust a Celt as a political barometer." - -"There's been no wind here, George," said Fallaray, putting his hands -behind his head. "Golden days, my dear fellow, golden days, with the -gentlest of breezes." - -But Lytham ignored the interruption. In five minutes, if he knew his -man, he would have Fallaray sitting up straight. "Our anti-waste men are -winning every seat they stand for," he went on, "and this means the -nucleus of a new party, our party. The country is behind us, Fallaray, -and if we keep our heads and get down to work, the next general election -will not be a walk-over for the labor men but for us. Lloyd George is on -his last legs, in spite of his newspapers, and with him the -Coalitionists disappear to a man. As for Trades-Unionism, the coal -strike has proved that it oscillates between communism and socialism, -the nationalizing of everything--mines, railways, land, capital--and the -country doesn't like it and isn't ready for it. The way, therefore, is -easy if we organize at once under a leader who has won the reputation -for honesty, and that leader is yourself. But there is not a moment to -waste. My car is outside. Drive up with me now and meet us to-morrow -morning. Unanimously we look to you." He sprang to his feet and made a -gesture towards the door. - -But Fallaray settled more comfortably into his chair and crossed one -long leg over the other. "Do you know your Hood?" he asked. - -"Hood?--Why?" - -"Listen to this: - - "'Peace and rest at length have come, - All the day's long toil is past, - And each heart is whispering Home, - Home at last.'" - -"But what has that got to do with it?" - -"That's my answer to you, George." And Fallaray waved his hand, as -though the question was settled. - -If Lytham had been older or younger, and if his admiration and esteem -for Fallaray had not become so deep-rooted, he must have broken out into -a torrent of incredulity and impatience. What he did, instead, -persuading himself, easily enough, that his friend had not recovered -from his recent disappointments, although he had obviously benefited in -health, was to go over the whole ground again, more quietly and in -greater detail, and to wind up with the assertion that Fallaray was -essential to the cause. - -To all of which Fallaray listened with a sort of respectful interest but -without the slightest enthusiasm, and remained lolling in his chair. He -might have been a Buckinghamshire Squire who knew no language but his -own, hearing a Frenchman holding forth for no apparent reason on -Napoleon. He watched his friend's mouth, appraised his occasional -gestures, ran his eyes with liking over his well-knit body and found his -voice pleasant to the ear. Beyond that, nothing. - -Lytham began to feel like a man who throws stones into a lake. All his -points seemed to disappear into an unruffled and indifferent surface of -water. It was incomprehensible. It was also indescribably baffling. What -on earth had come over this man who, until a few days before, had been -burning with a desire to reconstruct and working himself into a -condition of nervous exhaustion in an endeavor to pull his country out -of chaos? - -"Well," he said, after an extraordinary pause, during which everything -seemed to have fallen flat. "What are you going to do?" - -"But I've told you, my dear George," said Fallaray, with a long sigh of -happiness. "I have found a home, at last." - -"You mean that you are going to let us down?" - -"I mean that I am going to live my own life." - -"That you're out of politics?" - -"Yes. My resignation goes in to-morrow." - -"My God! Why?" - -Fallaray got up and went to the window. He stood for a moment looking -out at a corner of the terrace where several steps led down to a -fountain in which, out of an urn held in the hands of a weather-worn -boy, water was flowing, colored like a rainbow by the evening sun. - -And Lytham followed him, wondering whether he had gone off his head, -become feeble-minded as the result of overstrain. And then he saw Lola -sitting on the edge of the fountain, with her face tilted up, her hands -clasped round one of her knees and her golden hair gleaming. - -And there both men remained, gazing,--Fallaray with a smile of -possession, of infinite pride and pleasure; Lytham with an expression of -profound amazement and quick understanding. - -"So it's a woman," he thought. And as he continued to look, another -picture of that girl came back into his mind. He had seen her before. He -had turned as she had passed him somewhere and caught his breath. He -remembered to have said to himself as she had walked away, "Eve, come to -life! Some poor devil of an Adam will go to hell for her."--The -Carlton--Chalfont--the foyer with its little cases of glittering jewels, -the long strip of carpet leading to the stairs of the dining room--the -palms--the orchestra. It all came back.--Well, this might be a form of -madness in a man of Fallaray's age and womanless life, but, thank God, -it was one with which he could deal. It was physical, not mental, as he -had feared. Fallaray might very well play Adam without going into hell. - -"Can't you combine the two," he said. "Politics and that girl? It's been -done before. It's being done every day. The one is helped by the other." - -But Fallaray shook his head. "I am not going to do it," he said. "I have -had a surfeit of one and nothing of the other. Take it from me finally, -George,--I am out of the political game. I think I should have been out -of it in any case, because I came here acknowledging failure, fed up, -nauseated. I am not the man to juggle with intrigues, to say one thing -to placate the capitalists to-day and another to fool labor to-morrow. -It isn't my way and I shall not be missed. On the contrary, my -resignation will be accepted with eagerness. I am going to begin all -over again, free, perfectly firm in my belief that there are better men -to do my job. I was a bull in a china shop, and it will remain a china -shop, whether it's run by one party or another. It's the system. Nothing -can alter it. I couldn't, you and your party won't be able to. It's gone -too far. It's a cancer. It will kill the country. And so I'm out. I -consider that I have earned the right to love and make a home. Row off -from my Eden, my dear fellow, and leave me in peace. I am not going to -be rescued." - -"We'll see about that," thought Lytham. "This is not Fallaray who -speaks. It's the man of forty suddenly hit by passion. I'll fight that -girl to the last gasp. We must have this man, we _must_." - -He turned away, deeply disappointed at the queer tangent at which his -chief had gone off, bitterly annoyed to find that here was a fight -within a fight at a time when unity was vital. He was himself a -perfectly normal creature who regarded the rustle of silk as one of the -necessities, like golf and tobacco, but to sacrifice a career or let -down a cause for the sake of a woman was to him an act of unimaginable -weakness and folly. If only Fallaray had been younger or older, or, -better still, had been contentedly married to Feo! Cursed bad luck that -he had been caught at forty.--But, struck with an idea in which he could -see immediate possibilities, he stopped on his way to the door and went -back to Fallaray. To work it out in his usual energetic way he must use -strategy and appear to accept his friend's decision as irreparable. "All -right," he said. "You know best. I'll argue no more. But as there's no -need now for me to dash back to town, mayn't I linger with you in -Arcadia for a couple of hours?" - -Fallaray was delighted. Lola was to dine at Lady Cheyne's, and he would -be alone. It would be very jolly to have George to dinner, especially as -he saw the futility of argument and recognized an ultimatum. "Stay and -have some food," he said. "I've much to tell you. But will you let me -leave you for ten minutes?" - -That was precisely what young Lochinvar intended to do before he drove -away,--speak to that woman. - -He watched Fallaray join Lola at the fountain, give her his hand and -wander off among the rose trees, wearing what he called the fatuous -smile of the middle-aged man in love. And then, so that he might obtain -a point or two for future use, he rang the bell for Elmer. The butler -and he had known each other for years. He would answer a few nonchalant -questions without reserve. "Good afternoon, Elmer," he said, when the -old man came in. - -"Good afternoon to you, Sir." He might have been an actor who in palmy -days had played Hamlet at Bristol. - -"I'm staying to an early dinner with Mr. Fallaray. A whiskey and soda -would go down rather well in the meantime." - -"Certainly, Sir." - -"Oh, and Elmer." - -"Sir?" His turn and the respectful familiar angle of his head were only -possible to actors of the good old school. - -"The name of the charming lady who has so kindly helped to brighten up -Mr. Fallaray's week-end." - -"Madame de Breze, Sir." - -"Oh, yes, of course." He had never heard it before. Married then, or a -widow. French. 'Um. "And she is staying with----" - -"Lady Cheyne, Sir." - -"Oh, yes,--that house----" - -"A stone's throw from the gate in the wall, Sir. You can see the roof -from this window." - -"Thanks very much, Elmer. How's your son getting on now?" - -"Very well indeed, Sir, thank you, owing to your kindness." - -"A very good fellow,--a first-rate soldier. One of our best junior -officers. Not too much soda, then." - -"No, Sir." He left the room like an elderly sun-beam. - -"Good!" said George Lytham. "Get off early, hang about by the gate, -intercept this young woman on her way back to Fallaray and see what her -game is. That's the idea." - -And he sat down, lit a cigarette and picked up a copy of Hood that lay -open on the table. His eyes fell on some marked lines. - - "Peace and rest at length have come, - All the day's long toil is past, - And each heart is whispering Home, - Home at last." - -And he thought of Feo whom he had seen several nights running with -Arrowsmith and before that, for a series of years, with Dick, Tom and -Harry. Never with Fallaray. - -"Poor devil," he thought. "He's been too long without it. It won't be -easy to rescue him now." - - - -VIII - - -And at the gate in the wall Fallaray held Lola close in his arms and -kissed her, again and again. - -"My little Lola," he said softly, "how wonderful you are,--how wonderful -all this is. You had been in the air all round me for weeks. I used to -see your eyes among the stars looking down at me when I left the House. -I used to wake at night and feel them upon me all warm about my heart. -Lots of times, like the wings of a bird, they flashed between me and my -work. And the tingle of your hand that never left me ran through my -veins like fire. I could have stopped dead that night at the Savoy and -followed you away. And when I found you weeping in the corridor in Dover -Street I was confused and bewildered because then I was old and I was -fighting against you for the cause. De Breze, de Breze,--the name used -to come to me, suddenly, like the forerunner of rain to a dried-up -plant. And at last I got away and came down here, as I know now, to -throw off my useless years and go back, past all the milestones on a -long road, and wait for you. And then you heard my cry and opened the -gate and walked among those stone figures of my life and gave me back my -youth." - -"With love and adoration and long-deferred hope," she said and crept -closer to his heart. "I love you. I love you. I've always loved you. And -if I'd never found you, I should have waited for you on the other side -of the Bridge,--loving you still." - -"My dear--who am I to deserve this?" - -"You are Fallaray. Who else?" - -And he laughed at that and held up her face and kissed her lips and -said, "No. I'm no longer Fallaray, that husk of a man, emptying his -energy on the ribs of chaos. I'm Edmund the boy, transformed to -adolescence. I'm Any Man in love." - -And again she went closer, feeling the far-off shudder of thunder, with -a new-born fear of opening the gate in the wall. "Who was that man who -came to see you?" - -"Young Lochinvar,--Lytham. He's interested in politics." - -"What did he want to see you about?" - -"Nothing." And he brushed away the lingering recollection with his hand. - -"No. Tell me. I want to know." - -"I forget." And he laughed and kissed her once again. - -"But in any case you have to go back to-morrow?" - -He shook his head and ran his fingers over her hair. - -"But you said you'd have to,--that night." - -"Did I? I forget." And he put his hand over her heart and held it there. - -And again there came that thunder shudder, and she eyed the gate with -fear. "Did he want you to go back to-night? Tell me; I've _got_ to -know." And she drew away a little--a very little--in order to force her -point. - -But he drew her back and kissed her eyes. "Don't look like that," he -said. "What's it matter? Let him want. I'm not going back. I'm never -going back. If George Lytham were multiplied by a hundred thousand and -they all landed on my island with grappling irons, I'd laugh them back -to sea. They shan't have me. I've given them all I had. I've found my -youth and I'll enjoy it, here, anywhere, with you." He stretched out and -opened the gate. "And now, I must let you go, my sweet. But don't be -longer than you can help. Get dinner over quickly and come back to me -again. Wear that silver frock and I'll wait for you on the terrace, as I -did before. I want to be surprised again as you shimmer among those cold -stones." He let her go. - -And she went through the gate and stood irresolute, as the shudder came -again. With a little cry she turned and flung her arms round his neck as -though she were saying, "Good-by." - -And yet there was only a cloud as big as a man's hand in that clear sky. - - - -IX - - -No one, it might be thought, could hear to think at the narrow table in -Lady Cheyne's house. Those natural, childlike creatures who, if they had -ever learned the artificialities forget them, talked, argued, sang and -screamed each other down all at the same time. They could not really be -musicians if they didn't. - -Zalouhou, whose only preparations for dinner consisted in bushing out -his tie and hair, sat at his hostess' left; Willy Pouff, in an evening -suit borrowed from a waiter friend who had gone to a hospital with a -poisoned hand, on her right. Lola, at the end of the table, sat between -Valdemar Varvascho and Max Wachevsky, who had remembered, oddly enough, -to wash their faces, though Varvascho's beard had grown darkly during -the day. Both the women had changed and made up for artificial light. -The result of Anna Stezzel's hour was remarkable, as well, perhaps, as -somewhat disconcerting. A voluptuous person, with hair as black as a wet -starling, she had plastered her face with a thick coating of white stuff -on which her lips resembled blood stains in the snow. Her beaded evening -gown saved the company from panic merely by an accident and disclosed -also the whole wide expanse of a rather yellow back. Regina Spatz was -built on Zuluesque lines, too, but more by luck than judgment a white -blouse tempered her amazing ampleness. She had used henna on her hair so -that it might have been fungus in a tropic sea and sat in a perpetual -blush of indiscriminate rouge. Salo Impf was wedged against her side and -looked like a Hudson River tugboat under the lee of the _Aquitania_. - -Like all fat women, Lady Cheyne was devoted to eating and had long since -decided to let herself go. "One can only live once," she said, in -self-defense; "and how does one know that there'll be peas and potatoes -in the next world." The dinner, to the loudly expressed satisfaction of -the musicians, was substantial and excellent. Each course was received -with a volley of welcome, expressed in several languages. The hard -exercise of singing, playing, gesticulating, praising and breathing -deeply gave these children of the exuberant Muse the best of appetites. -It was a shattering meal. - -But Lola could hear herself think, for all that. She sat smiling and -nodding. Her body went through the proper mechanics, but her spirit was -outside the gate in the wall, trembling. There was a cloud in the sky, -already. Fallaray was going to make her more important than his work, -and she had not come to him for that. Her metier was to bring into his -loveless life the rustle of silk,--love, tenderness, flattery, -refreshment, softness, beauty, laughter, adoration, which would send him -out of her secret nest strengthened, humanized, eager, optimistic. She -must fail lamentably if the effect of her absorbed him to the -elimination of everything that made him necessary to the man who had -come from London and to all that he represented. George Lytham, of -_Reconstruction_, the organizer of the Anti-waste Party,--she had heard -him discussed by Lady Feo. Without Fallaray he might be left -leaderless,--because of her. - -She went upstairs as soon as she could to put on the silver frock. There -had been no time to change before dinner. Fallaray had kissed her so -often that she had been late. She was joined immediately by Lady, -Cheyne, who was anxious. She had seen something in Lola's eyes. - -"What is it, my dear?" she asked. "I'm worried about you." - -And Lola went to her, as to a mother, and shut her eyes and gave a -little cry that seemed to come from her soul. - -"There's something wrong!--Has he hurt you? Tell me." - -And Lola said, "Oh, no. He would never hurt me, never. He loves me. But -I may be hurting him, and that's so very much worse." - -"I don't understand. You mean--his reputation? But what if you are? -We're all too precious careful to guard the reputations of our -politicians, to help them along in their petty careers." - -"But he isn't a politician, and he isn't working for a career." She drew -away sharply. No one must have a word against Fallaray. - -"Well, what is it then? I want you to be happy. I want this to be a -Great Romance. And, good Heavens, my darling, it's only three days old." - -Lola spoke through tears. Yes, it was only three days old. "He may love -me too much," she said. "I may become more important than his work." - -Lady Cheyne's anxiety left her, like smoke. And she gave a laugh and -drew what she called that old-fashioned child into her arms again. "My -dear," she said, "don't let _that_ distress you. Make yourself more -important than his work. Encourage him to love you more than himself. -He'll be different from most men if he is capable of that! But perhaps -happiness is something new in his life, and I shouldn't wonder, with -Lady Feo for a wife." - -It never occurred to Lola to ask her friend how she had discovered the -secret. She listened eagerly to her sophistries, trying to persuade -herself that they were true. - -"Get him to take you away. There are beautiful places to go to, and he -never will be missed. There'll be a paragraph,--'ill-health causes the -resignation of Mr. Fallaray'; the clubs will talk, but the people will -believe the papers, and presently Lady Feo will sue for divorce, -desertion. A nice thing,--she being the deserter! And you and he,--what -do you care? Is happiness so cheap that you can throw it away, either of -you? If he loves you, _that's_ his career, and a very much better one -than leading parties and making empty promises and becoming Prime -Minister. If he loves you well enough to sacrifice all that, for the -sake of womanhood see that he does it, and you will build a bigger -statue for him than any that he could win." - -And she kissed her little de Breze, who seemed to have undergone a -perfectly natural _crise de neuf_, being so much in love, and patted her -on the shoulder. "Take an old woman's advice, my pet. If you've won that -man, keep him. He'll live to thank you for it one of these days." - -And finally, when Lola slipped into the twilight in her silver frock, -there didn't seem to be a single cloud in the sky. Only an evening star. -What Lady Cheyne had said she believed because she wanted to believe it, -because this Great Romance was only three days old and hope had been so -long deferred.--She stopped in the old garden and picked a rose and -pulled its thorns off so that she might give it to Fallaray, and she -lingered for a moment taking in the scents and the quiet sounds of that -most lovely evening,--more lovely and more unclouded even than that -other one, which was locked in her memory. And then she went along the -path through the corner of a wood. A rabbit disappeared into the -undergrowth, but the fairies were not out yet, and there was no one to -spy. Was happiness so cheap that she could throw it away,--his and her -own? "If you've won that man, keep him." She danced all the rest of the -way and over the side road to the gate in the wall,--early, after all, -by half an hour. She would wait outside until she heard Fallaray's quick -step and watch the star. "I'll get him to take me away," she thought. -"There are beautiful places to go to, and he never will be missed." - -She turned quickly, hearing some one on the road. She saw a car drawn up -a little distance away, and a man come swinging towards her. - -It was young Lochinvar. - - - -X - - -"Madame de Breze," he said, standing bareheaded, "my name is Lytham. May -I ask you to be so kind as to give me ten minutes?" - -"Twenty," she answered, with the smile that she had flashed at Chalfont -that night at the Savoy. "I have just that much to spare." - -"Thank you." But now that he was there, after all his strategy, after -saying good-by to Fallaray, driving all the way down the hill from -Whitecross and up again into that side road, he didn't know how to -begin, or where. This girl! God,--how disordering a quality of sex! No -wonder she had shattered poor old Fallaray. - -"Shall we walk along the lane? It turns a little way up and you can see -the cross cut in the hill." - -"Yes," he said. "But there are so many crosses, aren't there, and -they're all cut on somebody's hill." He saw that she looked at him -sharply and was glad. Quick to take points, evidently. This interview -would not be quite so difficult, after all. - -"You came down from town to see Edmund?" She called him by his Christian -name to show this man where he stood. - -"On the most urgent business," he said, "I saw you sitting at the side -of the fountain. It's a dear old place." - -She was not beautiful, and she was not sophisticated. That way of -dragging in Fallaray's Christian name was childish in its naivete. But -all about her there was something so fresh and young, so sublimely -unselfconscious, so disturbingly feminine, so appealing in its essence -of womanhood that he had to pay her tribute and measure his words. He -would hate to hurt this girl. De Breze--Madame de Breze--how was it that -he hadn't heard of her before? She knew Chalfont. She was staying with -Poppy Cheyne. Fallaray had met her somewhere. Odd that he had missed her -in the crowd. - -"I'll come to the point, if I may," he said. "And I must bore you a -little with a disquisition on the state of affairs." - -"I'm interested in politics," she said, with a forlorn attempt to keep a -high head. - -"Then perhaps you know what's happened, to a certain extent, although -probably not as much as those of us who stand in the wings of the -political stage and see the actors without their make-up,--not a pretty -sight, sometimes." - -"Well?" But the cloud had returned and blotted out the evening star, and -there was the shudder of distant thunder again. - -"Well, the people are turning against the old gang, at last. The Prime -Minister has only his favorites and parasites and newspapers left with -him. The Unionists are scared stiff by the sudden uprising of the -Anti-waste Party and Labor has been drained of its fighting funds. The -Liberals have withered. There is one great cry for honest government, -relief from crushing taxation, a fair reward for hard work, and new -leadership that will make the future safe from new wars. We must have -Fallaray. He's the only man. I came here this evening to fetch him. He -refuses to come because of you. What are you going to do?" - -As he drew up short and faced her, she looked like a deer surrounded by -dogs. He was sorry, but this was no time for fooling. What stuff was -this girl made of? Had she the gift of self-sacrifice as well as the -magnetism of sex? Or was she just a female, who would cling to what she -had won, self before everything? - -"I love him," she said. - -Well, it was good to know that, but was that an answer? "Yes," he said. -"Well?" He would like to have added "But does he love you and can you -keep him after passion is dead,--a man like Fallaray, who, after all, is -forty." But he hadn't the courage or the desire to hurt. - -"And because I love him he must go," she said. - -He leaned forward and seized her hand. He was surprised, delighted, and -a little awed. She had gone as white as a lily. "You will see to that? -You will use all your influence to give him back to us?" He could hardly -believe his ears and his eyes. - -"All my influence," she said, standing very straight. - -He bent down and touched her hand with his lips. - -They were at the gate. They heard steps on the other side of the wall. - -"Go," she said, "quickly." - -But before he went he bowed, as to a queen. - -And then Lola heard the voice again, harshly. "Go on, de Breze, go on. -Don't be weak. Stick to your guns. You have him in the palm of your -hand." - -But she shook her head. "But I'm not de Breze. I've only tried to be. -I'm Lola Breezy of Queen's Road, Bayswater, and this is love." - -She opened the gate and went in to Fallaray. - - - - -PART VIII - - - -I - - -There was a hooligan knock on Georgie Malwood's bedroom door. - -Saying "Aubrey" to herself without any sign either of irritation or -petulance, she put down her book, gathered herself together, and slid -off the bed. In a suit of boy's pajamas she looked as young and -undeveloped as when, at seventeen, she had married Clayburgh in the -first week of the War. Her bobbed hair went into points over her ears -like horns, and added to her juvenile appearance. She might have been a -schoolgirl peeping at life through the keyhole, instead of a woman of -twenty-four, older than Methuselah. - -She unlocked the door. "Barge in," she said, standing clear. - -And Aubrey Malwood, with his six foot two of brawn and muscle, his -yellow Viking hair, eyebrows and moustache, barged, as he always did. - -"I've just dropped in to tell you," he said, going straight to the -looking-glass, "that Feo rang up an hour ago. She wants you to lunch -with her in Dover Street." - -Perching herself on the window seat, like a pillow girl in Peter Pan, -Georgie gazed uninterestedly at that portion of the Park at -Knightsbridge which is between the barracks and the Hotel. - -"Oh, damn," she said, "I wish she'd leave me alone." Young Malwood was -so astonished at this sentiment that he was drawn away from -self-admiration. He liked his type immensely. - -"I never expected to hear you say that! What's the notion?" - -His much-married wife's doglike worship of Feo Fallaray had, as a matter -of fact, immediately eliminated him from her daily pursuits and long ago -sent him after another form of amusement. - -"Oh, I dunno," said Georgie. "She's been different lately; lost her -sense of humor, and become serious and sentimental,--the very things -she's always hated in other people. You're so fond of yourself that I -don't suppose you've ever noticed the shattering effect of having the -teacher you imitated go back suddenly to the sloppy state you were in at -the beginning of your lessons. I'll go this time and then fall away. -Feo's over." - -Malwood went back to the glass and posed as a gladiator with an -imaginary sword and shield. His magnificent height and breadth and bone -made him capable of any gladiatorial effort. Only as to brain was he a -case of arrested development. At twenty-eight he was still only just fit -for Oxford. In any case, as things were, this desertion from her leader -would leave Georgie exactly what she was,--someone who had the legal -right to provide him with funds. - -"Well," he said, "it's your funeral," and let it go. The fact that the -elaborate dressing table was covered with framed photographs of his -three equally young predecessors, as well as toilet things bearing their -crests and initials, left this perpetual undergraduate unmoved. He had -never been in love with Georgie. He had been somewhat attracted by her -tinyness and imperturbability, but what had made him ask her to be his -wife was the fact that everybody was talking about her as a creator of a -record,--three times a widow in five years,--and he was one of those -men, who, being unable to attract attention by anything that he could -do, felt the need of basking in reflected glory. He had been fatuously -satisfied to follow her into a public place and see people nudge each -other as she passed. It was a thousand to one that if he had not married -Georgie, he would have hunted London to find a girl who had won her way -into the _Tatler_ as a high diver or a swallower of knives. Why Georgie -had married him was the mystery. Having acquired the married habit, it -was probable that she had accepted him before she had had time to -discover that beneath his astonishing good looks and magnificent -physique there was the mind of a potato. He had turned out to be an -expensive hobby because when his father's business had been ruined by -the War, he possessed nothing but his pay as a second lieutenant. Peace -had removed even that and left him in her little house in Knightsbridge -with eight pairs of perfect riding boots, a collection of old civvies, -and an absolute incapability of earning a legitimate shilling. With -characteristic cold-bloodedness she had, however, immediately advertised -that she would not be responsible for his debts, and made him an -allowance of ten pounds a week, a fourth of her income after the -depredation of income tax. An invulnerable sponge, with a contagious -chuckle, a fairly good eye for tennis, and a homogeneous nature, he -managed to hang on by the skin of his teeth and was perfectly happy and -satisfied. But for Georgie, he must have been a farm laborer in Canada -or a salesman in a motor-car shop on the strength of his appearance. Or -he might have gone to Ireland in the Black and Tans. - -"Well," he said, having delivered his message, "cheerio. I'm going to -Datchet for a week to stay on the Mullets' houseboat." - -Georgie looked round at him, stirred to a slight curiosity. - -"Mullet? New friends?" - -"Yes. War profiteers. Rolling in the stuff. Great fun. Know everybody. -Champagne and diamonds for breakfast. Haven't got a loose fiver about -you, I suppose?" - -With a faint smile Georgie pointed to her cigarette case on the dressing -table. And without a qualm Malwood opened it, removed his wife's last -night's bridge winnings, murmured, "Thanks most awfully," and barged -out, whistling a tune from "The League of Notions." - -"All right, then. For the last time, lunch with Feo," thought Georgie, -moving from the window seat lazily. "She's over." - - - -II - - -For the first time since Feo had lifted Georgie Malwood into her -intimacy, in that half-careless, half-cautious way that belongs usually -to the illegitimate offspring of kings, her small, unemotional friend -was late for her appointment. Always before, like every other member of -the gang, Georgie Malwood had reported on the early side of the -prescribed moment and killed time without impatience until it had -occurred to Feo to put in an appearance. That morning, which was without -word from Arrowsmith, as she had predicted with the uncanny intuition -that makes women suffer before as well as after they are hurt, Feo was -punctual. She entered her den with the expectation of finding Georgie -curled up on the sofa, halfway through a slim volume of new poems. The -room was empty and there had been no message of apology, no hastily -scribbled note of endearment and explanation. - -During the longest forty-five minutes that she had ever spent, Feo -passed from astonishment to anger and finally into the chilly -realization that her uncharacteristic behavior of the last few weeks had -been discussed and criticized, and that the judgment of her friends was -unmistakably reflected in the new attitude of the hitherto faithful and -obsequious Georgie,--always the first to catch the color of her -surroundings. She, Feo, the Queen of Flippancy, the ringleader of -eroticism, had had the temerity to play serious, an unforgivable crime -in the estimation of the decadent set which had ignored the War and -emerged triumphantly into the chaos of peace. Well, there it was. A long -and successful innings was ended. She would be glad to withdraw from the -field. - -She waited in her favorite place with her beautiful straight back to the -fireplace, both elbows on the low mantel board and one foot on the -fender. Her face was as white as a candle, her large violet eyes were -filled with grim amusement, and her wide, full-lipped mouth was a little -twisted. She wore a frock that was the color of seaweed, cut almost up -to her knees, with short sleeves, a loose belt, and a great blob of jade -attached to a thin gold chain lying between her breasts. Her thick, wiry -hair was out of curl and fell straight, like that of a page in the Court -of Cesare Borgia. For all her modernity there was something about her -that was peculiarly medieval, masculinely girlish rather than -effeminately boyish. She might have been the leading member of a famous -troupe of Russian ballet dancers, ready at a moment's notice to slip out -of her wrapper and spring with athletic grace high into the air. - -Her first remark upon Georgie's lazy entrance was Feoistic and -disconcerting. - -"So I'm over, I see," she said, and waited ironically for its effect. - -Not honest enough to say, "Yes, you are," Georgie hedged, with some -little confusion. - -"What makes you think so, Feo?" - -"Your infernal rudeness, my dear, which you wouldn't have dared to -indulge in a week ago. You've all sensed the fact that I'm sick to tears -of the games I've led you into, and would gladly have gone in for babies -if I'd had the luck to seem desirable to the right man." She made a long -arm and rang the bell. "I am ripe for repentance, you see, or perhaps it -might be more accurate, though less dramatic, to say eager for a new -sensation. It isn't coming off, but you can all go and hang yourselves -so far as I'm concerned. I'm out. I'm going to continue to be serious. -Bring lunch in here," she added, as a footman framed himself in the -doorway, "quickly. I'm starving." - -Almost any other girl who had been the favorite of such a woman as Feo -would have found in this renunciation of leadership something to cause -emotion. Mere gratitude for many favors and much kindness seemed to -demand that. But this young phlegmatic thing was just as unmoved as she -had been on receipt of the various war office telegrams officially -regretting the deaths of Lord Clayburgh, Captain Graham Macoover, and -Sir Harry Pytchley. She lit the inevitable cigarette, chose the -much-cushioned divan, and stretched herself at full length. - -"I can do with a little groundsel too," she said, as though the other -subject had been threshed out. - -And so it had, for the time being. Feo, oddly enough, had no bricks to -throw. She could change her religion, it seemed, without pitching mud at -the church of her recent beliefs. It was not until lunch was finished -and the last trickle of resentment at Georgie's failure to apologize had -gone out of her system that she returned to the matter and began, in a -way, to think aloud. It was not as indiscreet as it might have been, -because Georgie Malwood was completely self-contained and had developed -concentration to such a degree, her first three husbands having been -given to arguing, that she could lie and follow her own train of thought -as easily in a room in which a mass of women were playing bridge as in a -monkey house. Her interest in Feo was dead. She was over. - -And so Feo gave herself away to a little person whose ears were closed. - -"I don't know what exactly to do," she said. "At the moment, I feel like -a fish out of water. If Arrowsmith had liked me and been ready to upset -the conventional ideas of his exemplary family, I'd have eloped with -him, however frightfully it would have put Edmund in the cart. I don't -mind owning that Arrowsmith is the only man I've ever met who could have -turned me into the Spartan mother and worthy _haus-frau_. I had dreams -of living with him behind the high walls of a nice old house and making -the place echo with the pattering feet of babes. It's the culminating -disappointment of several months of 'em,--the bad streak which all of us -have to go through at one time or another, I suppose. However, he -doesn't like me, worse luck, and so there it is. So I think I'd better -make the best of a bad job and cultivate Edmund. I think I'd better -study the life of Lady Randolph Churchill and make myself useful to my -husband. Politics are in a most interesting state just now, with Lloyd -George on the verge of collapse at last, and the brainy dishonesty of a -woman suddenly inspired with political ambition is exactly what Edmund -needs to push him to the top. He has been too long without a woman's -unscrupulous influence." - -She began to pace the room with long swinging strides, eagerly, -clutching at this new idea like a drowning man to a spar. Her eyes began -to sparkle and the old ring came back to her voice. Here was a way to -use her superabundant energy and build up a new hobby. - -"I'm no longer a flapping girl with everything to discover," she went -on, "I've had my share of love stuff. By Jove, I'll use my intelligence, -for a change. I'll get into the fight and develop strategy. Every one's -looking to Edmund as the one honest man in the political game, and I'll -buckle to and help him. He's an amazing creature. I've always admired -him, and there's something that suits my present state of mind in making -up to him for my perfectly rotten treatment all these years. If I can't -make a lover into a husband, by Jingo, I can set to work to make a -husband into a lover. There's an idea for you, Feo, my pet! There's a -mighty interesting scheme to dig your teeth into, my broad-shouldered -friend!" - -She sent out an excited laugh and flung up her hand as though to welcome -a brain wave. Her amazing resilience stood her in good stead in this -crisis of her life,--to say nothing of her courage and queer sense of -humor. Her blood began to move again. Fed up with decadence, she would -plump whole-heartedly for usefulness now, be normal, go to work, get -into the good books of George Lytham and his party, surprise Fallaray by -her sudden allegiance to his cause and to him, and gradually break down -the door that she had slammed in his face. - -"I'll let my hair grow," she continued gayly, working the vein that was -to rescue her from despondency and failure with pathetic eagerness. - -"I'll chuck eccentric clothes. I'll turn up slang and blasphemy. I'll -teach myself manners and the language of old political hens. I'll keep -brilliance within speed limits. Yes, I'll do all that if I have to work -like a coolie. And I'll tell you what else I'll do. I'll bet you a -thousand pounds to sixpence that before the end of the year I'll be the -wife--I said the wife, Georgie--of the next Prime Minister. Will you -take it?" - -She drew up short, alight and excited, her foot already on the beginning -of the new road, and paused for a reply. - -Georgie stretched like a young Angora cat and yawned with perfect -frankness. - -"I'll take whatever I can get, Feo," she said. "But what the devil are -you talking about? I haven't heard a blessed word." - -And Feo's laugh must have carried into Bond Street. - - - -III - - -And when Georgie had transferred herself from the many-cushioned divan -to her extremely smart car, in which, with an expressionless face and a -mind as calm as a cheese, she was going to drive to Hurlingham to be -present at, rather than to watch, the polo, Feo went upstairs. - -She felt that she must walk, and walk quickly, in an endeavor to keep up -with her new line of thought, at the end of which she saw, more and more -clearly, a most worth-while goal. Before she could arrive at this, she -could see a vista of bunkers ahead of her to negotiate which all her -gifts of intrigue would have, happily, to be exercised. To give interest -and excitement to her plan of becoming Fallaray's wife in fact, as well -as by law, she required bunkers and needed difficulties. The more the -merrier. She knew that, at present, Fallaray was as far away from her as -though he were at the North Pole,--and as cold. She was dead certain of -the fact that she had been of no more account to him, from the first few -hours of their outrageous honeymoon, than a piece of furniture in one of -the rooms in his house of which he never made use. That being so, she -could see the constant and cunning employment of the brains that she had -allowed to lie fallow through all her rudimentary rioting,--brains that -she possessed in abundance, far above the average. In the use of these -lay her salvation, her one chance to swing herself out of the great -disappointment and its subsequent loose-endedness which had been brought -about by Arrowsmith's sudden deflection. Her passionate desire for this -man was not going easily to die. She knew that. Her dreams would be -filled with him for a considerable time, of course. She realized, also, -looking at that uncompleted episode with blunt honesty, that, but for -him, she would still be playing the fool, giving herself and her gifts -to the entertainment of all the half-witted members of the gang. To the -fastidious Arrowsmith and her unrequited love she owed her sudden -determination to make herself useful to Fallaray and finally to become, -moving Heaven and earth in the process, his wife. This was the -paradoxical way in which her curious mind worked. No tears and -lamentations for her. She had no use for them. On the contrary, she had -courage and pride, and by setting herself the most difficult task that -she could possibly have chosen, two things would result,--her sense of -adventure would be gratified to the hilt and Arrowsmith shown the stuff -of which she was made. - -But on her way to her room, which was to be without Lola until the -following morning, she stopped in the corridor, turned and went to the -door of Fallaray's den. After a moment's hesitation she entered, feeling -that she was trespassing, never before having gone into it of her own -volition. She could not be caught there because Fallaray had escaped to -his beloved Chilton, she remembered. Her desire was to stand there alone -for a few moments, to merge herself into its atmosphere; to get from its -book-lined walls and faint odor of tobacco something of the sense of the -man who had unconsciously become her partner. - -The vibrations of the room as they came to her were those of one which -had belonged to an ascetic, long dead and held in the sort of respect by -his country that is shown by the preservation of his work place. It was -museum-like and tidy, even prim. The desk was in perfect order and had -the cold appearance of not having been used for a century. The fireplace -was clean and empty. The waste-paper basket might never have been -employed. There was nothing personal to give the place warmth and life. -No photographs of women or children. No old pipes. And even in the cold -eyes of the bust of Dante that looked down upon her from the top of one -of the bookcases there was no expression, either of surprise or -resentment at her intrusion. - -Most women would have been chilled, and a little frightened, there. It -would have been natural for them, in Feo's circumstances, had they -possessed imagination, to have been struck with a sense of remorse. It -should have been their business, if nothing else, to see that this room -lived and had personality, comfort and a little color,--flowers from -time to time, and at least one charming picture of a youngster on the -parental desk. And Feo did feel, as she looked about in her new mood, a -little shiver of shame and the red-hot needle of repentance pricking her -hitherto dormant conscience. - -"Poor old Edmund," she said aloud, "what have I done to him? This place -is dry, bloodless, like a mausoleum. Well, I'll alter it all. I have a -job, thank God. Something to set my teeth into. Something to direct my -energy at,--if it isn't too late." - -And as this startling afterthought struck her, she wheeled round, darted -across the room to the place where a narrow slip of looking-glass hung -in an old gold frame, and put herself through a searching examination. - -"Mf! Still attractive in your own peculiar way," she said finally, with -relief. "The early bloom gone, of course; lines here and there, -especially round the eyes. Massage and the proper amount of sleep will -probably rub those away. But there's distinction about you, Feo dear, -and softness can be cultivated. You're as hard as an oil painting now, -you priceless rotter. However, hope springs eternal, and where there's a -will there's a way." - -She laughed at herself for these nursery quotations and clenched her -fists for the fray. But as she turned, fairly well satisfied with the -result of her inspection, she heard steps in the corridor--Fallaray's -steps--and the blood rushed into her face. By George, she was going to -be caught, after all. - - - -IV - - -Fallaray? This sun-tanned, smiling man with shoulders square, chin high, -and a song in his eyes, who came into the room like a southwest gale? - -If he felt surprise at the unfamiliar sight of Feo in his den, he -allowed nothing of it to show. He held out a cordial hand and went to -her eagerly. - -"I've come up to town to see you," he said. "You must have got my S. O. -S." - -The manner provided the second shock. But Feo returned the pressure of -his hand and tried instantly to think of an answer that would be -suitable to her new role. - -"I think I must have done so," she said quietly, returning his smile. -"Your holiday has worked wonders, Edmund." - -"A miracle, an absolute miracle!" - -A nearer look proved that his word was the right one. Here was almost -the young Fallaray of the tennis courts and the profile that she had set -herself impishly to acquire in those old days. Good Heavens, could it be -that she _was_ too late, and that another woman had brought about this -amazing change? She refused to permit the thought to take root. She told -herself that she had had her share of disappointments. He had needed -rest and his beloved Chilton, bathed in the most un-English sunlight, -had worked its magic. It must be so. Look at this friendliness. That -wasn't consistent with the influence of another woman. And yet, as an -expert in love, she recognized the unmistakable look. - -"I'm only staying the night here," he said. "I'm off to Chilton again in -the morning. So there's no time to lose. Can you give me ten minutes?" - -"Of course," she said. "And as many more as you care to ask for. I'm out -of the old game." She hurried to get that in, astonished at her -uncharacteristic womanliness. - -But he was one-eyed, like a boy. What at any other time would have -brought an incredulous exclamation left him now incurious, without -surprise. He was driving hard for his own goal. Anything that affected -Feo, or any one else, except Lola, didn't matter. Her revolutionary -statement passed almost unheard. He pushed an armchair into place. - -"Sit down," he said, "I want to talk to you." - -And as she sat down it was with a sudden sense of fatalism. There was -something in all this that was predetermined, inevitable. That flame had -been set alight in him by love, and nothing else. She felt, sitting -there, like that most feeble of all figures, Canute. What was the use in -trying to persuade herself that what she dreaded to hear was not going -to be said? She was too late. She had let this man go. - -He walked up and down for a moment, restless and wound up, passing and -repassing the white-faced woman who could have told him precisely what -he was about to say. - -"I want to be set free," he said, with almost as little emotion as would -have been called up by the discussion of a change of butchers. "I want -you to let me arrange to be divorced. Something has happened that has -altered my entire scheme of life. I want to begin all over again. I have -come back this afternoon to put this to you and to ask you to help me. I -think I know that many times since we've been married you would have -asked me to do this, if I hadn't been in politics. I'm grateful to you, -as I'm sure you know, for having respected what was my career to that -extent. I am going out. My resignation is in my pocket. It is to be sent -to the P. M. to-night. When I go back to-morrow, it will be as a free -man, so far as Westminster is concerned. I want to return to Chilton, -having left instructions with your lawyers, with your permission, to -proceed with the action. The evidence necessary will be provided and the -case will be undefended. I shall try to have it brought forward at the -earliest possible moment. May I ask you to be kind enough to meet me in -this matter?" - -He drew up in front of her and waited, with as little impatience as -breeding would permit. - -If this question had been put to her a week ago, or yesterday, she would -have cried out, "Yes," with joy and seen herself able to face a future -with Arrowsmith, such as she had pictured in her dreams. It came upon -her now, on top of her determination to turn over a new leaf, like a -breaker, notwithstanding the fact that she had seen it coming. But she -got up, pride and courage and tradition in every line of her -eccentrically dressed body, and faced him. - -"You may," she replied. "And I will help you in every possible way. It's -the least that I can do." - -"Thank you," he said. "I am deeply grateful. I knew that you would say -just that." And he bowed before turning to go to his desk. "Who _are_ -your lawyers?" - -She hadn't any lawyers, but she remembered the name of the firm in which -one of the partners was the husband of a woman in the gang, and she gave -it to him. - -He wrote it down eagerly. "I'm afraid it will be necessary for you to -see these people in the morning. Is that perfectly convenient?" - -"Perfectly," she said. "I have no engagements, as it happens." - -"Then I will write a statement of the facts," he said, "at once. The -papers can be served upon me at Chilton." - -It was easy to get out of marriage as it had been to get into it. - -"Is that all?" she asked, with a touch of her old lightness. - -He rose. "Yes, thank you," he said, and went to the door to open it for -her. There were youth and elasticity and happiness all about him. - -But as she watched him cross the room, something flashed in front of her -eyes, a vivid ball of foolish years which broke into a thousand pieces -at her feet, among the jagged ends of which she could see the ruins of a -great career, the broken figure of a St. Anthony, with roses pinned to -the cross upon his chest. - -He stopped her as she was going and held out his hand again. - -"I am very grateful, Feo." - -And she smiled and returned his grasp. "The best of luck," she said. "I -hope you'll be very happy, for a change." - - - -V - - -Having now no incentive to go either to her room or anywhere else, her -new plan dying at its birth, Feo remained in the corridor, standing with -her back against one of the pieces of Flemish tapestry which Simpkins -had pointed out to Lola. She folded her arms, crossed one foot over the -other, and dipped her chin, not frowning, not with any sort of -self-pity, but with elevated eyebrows and her mouth half open, -incredulous. - -"Of course I'm not surprised at Edmund's being smashed on a girl," she -told herself. "How the Dickens he's gone on so long is beyond belief. I -hope she's a nice child,--she must be young; he's forty; I hope he's not -been bird-limed by one of the afterwar virgins who are prowling the -earth for prey. I'm very ready to make way gracefully and have a dash at -something else, probably hospital work, sitting on charity boards with -the dowagers who wish to goodness they had dared to be as loose as I've -been. But--but what I want to know is, who's shuffling the cards? Why -the devil am I getting this long run of Yarboroughs? I can't hold -anything,--anything at all, except an occasional knave like Macquarie. -Why this run of bad luck now? Why not last year, next year, next week? -Why should Edmund deliberately choose to-day, of all days, to come back, -with no warning, and put a heavy foot bang in the middle of my scheme of -retribution? Is it--meant? I mean it's too beautifully neat to be an -accident. Is it the good old upper cut one always gets for playing the -giddy ox, I wonder?--Mf! Interesting. Very. More to come, too, probably, -seeing that I'm still on my feet. I've got to get it in the solar plexus -and slide under the ropes, I suppose, now they're after me. 'Every -guilty deed holds in itself the seed of retribution and undying pain.' -Well, I'm a little nervous, like some poor creature on the way to the -operating table; and--and I'll tell you what else I am, by George! I'm -eaten up with curiosity to know who the girl is, and how she managed to -get into the line of vision of this girl-blind man,--and I don't quite -know how I shall be able to contain myself until I satisfy this -longing.--Oh, hullo, Lola. This is good. I didn't expect you till the -morning. But I don't mind saying that I've never been so pleased to see -anybody as you, my dear. Had a good time?" - -She went to the top of the stairs and waited for Lola to come up, -smiling and very friendly. She was fond of this girl. She had missed her -beyond words,--not only for her services, which were so deft, so -sure-fingered, but also for her smile, her admiration. Good little Lola; -clever little Lola too, by George. That Carlton episode,--most amusing. -And this recent business, which, she remembered, was touched with a sort -of--what? Was ecstasy the word? Good fun to know what had happened. -Thank the Lord there was going to be a pause between knock-outs, after -all. - -Dressed in her perfectly plain ready-made walking frock, her own shoes -and a neat little hat that she had bought in Queen's Road, Bayswater, -Lola came upstairs quickly with her eyes on Feo's face. She seemed -hardly to be able to hold back the words that were trembling on her -lips. It was obvious that she had been crying; her lids were red and -swollen. But she didn't look unhappy or miserable, as a girl might if -everything had gone wrong; nor in the least self-conscious. She wore -neither her expression as lady's maid, nor that of the young widow to -whom some one had given London; but of a mother whose boy was in trouble -and must be got out of it, at once, _please_, and helped back to his -place among other good boys. - -"Will you come down to your room, Lady Feo?" she asked. "Mr. Lytham will -be here in a few minutes and I want you to see him." - -Lytham--young Lochinvar! How priceless if he were the man for whom she -had dressed this child up. - -"Why, of course. But what's the matter, Lola? You've been crying. You -look fey." - -Lola put her hand on Feo's arm, urgently. "Please come down," she said. -"I want to tell you something before Mr. Lytham comes." - -Well, this seemed to be her favor-granting day, as well as one of those -during which Fate had recognized her as being on his book. First Edmund -and then Lola,--there was not much to choose between their undisguised -egotism. And the lady's maid business,--that was all over, plainly. -George Lytham,--who'd have thought it? If Lola were in trouble, she had -a friend in that house. - -And so, without any more questions, she went back to her futuristic den -which, after her brief talk with Fallaray, seemed to belong to a very -distant past. But before Lola could begin to tell her story, a footman -made his appearance and said that Mr. Lytham was in the hall. - -"Show him in here," said Feo and turned to watch the door. - -She wondered if she would be able to tell from his expression what was -the meaning of her being brought into this,--a disinclination on his -part to take the blame, or an earnest desire to do what was right under -the circumstances? She never imagined the possibility of his not knowing -that Lola was a lady's maid dressed in the feathers of the jay. Unlike -Peter Chalfont, who accepted without question, Lytham held things up to -the light and examined their marks. - -There was, however, nothing uncomfortable in his eyes. On the contrary, -he looked more than ever like the captain, Feo thought, of a County -Cricket Club, healthy, confident and fully alive to his enormous -responsibility. He wore a suit of thin blue flannels, the M. C. C. tie -under a soft low collar, and brown shoes that had become almost red from -long and expert treatment. He didn't shake hands like a German, with a -stiff deference contradicted by a mackerel eye, or with the tender -effusion of an actor who imagines that women have only to come under his -magnetism to offer themselves in sacrifice. Bolt upright, with his head -thrown back, he shook hands with an honest grip, without deference and -without familiarity, like a good cricketer. - -"How do you do, Lady Feo," he said, in his most masculine voice. "It's -kind of you to see us." Then he turned to Lola with a friendly smile. -"Your telephone message caught me just as I was going to dash off for a -game of tennis after a hard day, Madame de Breze," he added. - -Oh, so this was another of the de Breze episodes, was it, like the one -with Beauty Chalfont. Curiosity came hugely to Feo's rescue. Here, at -any rate, was a break in her run of bad luck, very welcome. What on -earth could be the meaning of this quaint meeting,--George Lytham, the -earnest worker pledged to reconstruction, and this enigmatic child, who -might have stood for Joan of Arc? If Lola had caught Lytham and brought -him to Dover Street to receive substantiation, Feo was quite prepared to -lie on her behalf. What a joke to palm off the daughter of a Queen's -Road jeweler on the early-Victorian mother of the worthy George! - -"Well?" she said, looking from one to the other with a return of her -impish delight in human experimentation. - -"Mr. Lytham can explain this better than I can," said Lola quietly. - -"I'm not so sure about that, but I'll do my best." - -He drew a chair forward and sat down. Under ordinary circumstances, -where there was the normal amount of happiness, or even the mutual -agreement to give and take that goes with the average marriage, his task -would have been a difficult one. But in the case of Feo and his chief he -felt able to deal with the matter entirely without self-consciousness, -or delicacy in the choice of words. - -"I needn't worry you with any of the details of the new political -situation, Lady Feo. You know them, probably, as well as I do. But what -you don't know, because the moment isn't yet ripe for the publication of -our plans, is that Mr. Fallaray has been chosen to lead the Anti-waste -Party, which is concentrating its forces to rout the old gang out of -politics at the next General Election, give Parliament back its lost -prestige, and do away with the pernicious influence of the Press Lords. -A big job, by Jove, which Fallaray alone can achieve." - -"Well?" repeated Feo, wondering what in the world this preamble had to -do with the case in question. - -"Well, at the end of the meeting of my party yesterday, I was sent down -to Chilton Park to tell Mr. Fallaray our plans. I was stultified to be -told that he had decided to chuck politics." - -"And go in for love. Yes, I know. But what has this got to do with -Lola,--with Madame de Breze?" - -That was the point that beat Feo, the thing that filled her with a sort -of impatient astonishment. Was this uncommunicative girl, who seemed to -her to be so essentially feminine, whose metier in life was obviously to -purr under the touch of a masculine hand, who had been given a holiday -to go on a love chase with Chalfont, presumably, somehow connected with -politics? It was incredible. - -"Oh, you've seen Fallaray." - -"Yes, my dear man, yes! He broke the news to me the moment he came in," - -"Did he ask you to give him a divorce?" - -"He did, without a single stutter." - -"And you said----" - -"But--my dear young Lochinvar, may I make so bold as to ask why this -perfectly personal matter has to be discussed in the open, so to speak?" -She made her meaning unmistakably clear. This girl was not so close a -friend as he might have been led to suppose. - -"What did you say to Mr. Fallaray?" asked Lola, leaning forward eagerly. - -And Lytham waited with equal anxiety for an answer. - -It did not come for an extraordinary moment and only then in the form of -a tangent. Feo turned slowly round to the girl who was in the habit of -dressing her and putting her to bed. With raised eyebrows and an air of -amused amazement, she ran her eyes over every inch of her, as though -trying very hard to find something to palliate the insufferable cheek -that she was apparently expected to swallow. - -"My good Lola," she said finally, "what the devil has this got to do -with you?" - -"Madame de Breze is the _dea ex machina_," said Lytham, evenly. - -It didn't seem to him to be necessary to lead up to this announcement -like a cat on hot bricks, considering that Lady Feo had openly flouted -his chief from the first. She had no feelings to respect. - -"_What did you say?_" - -He repeated his remark, a little surprised at the gaping astonishment -which was caused by it. - -"Madame de Breze--Lola--the woman for whom I am to be asked to step -aside?--Is this a joke?" - -"No," he said. "Far from a joke." - -"Ye Gods!" said Feo. And she sat for a moment, holding her breath, with -her large intelligent mouth open, her dark Italian eyes fixed on -Lytham's face, and one of her long thin capable hands suspended in -mid-air. She might have been struck by lightning, or turned into salt -like Lot's inquisitive wife. - -It was plain enough to Lola that her mistress was reviewing in her mind -all the small points of their connection,--the engagement in the -housekeeper's room, the knowledge of her parentage, the generous -presents of those clothes for her beautification, the half-jealous, -half-sympathetic interest that had been shown in her love affair with -Chalfont, as she had allowed Lady Feo to imagine. She had come to Dover -Street, not to take this woman's husband away, but to give him back, to -beg that he should be retained by all the hollow ties of Church and law; -bound, held, controlled, rendered completely unable to break away,--not -for Feo's sake, and not for his, but for his country's. And so, having -committed no theft because Fallaray was morally free, and being -unashamed of her scheme which had been merely to give a lonely man the -rustle of silk, she hung upon an answer to her question. - -Once more Feo turned to look at Lola, leaning forward, and for a moment -something flooded her eyes that was like blood, and a rush of unformed -words of blasphemous anger crowded to her lips. With distended nostrils -and widening fingers, she took on the appearance, briefly, of a figure, -half man, half woman, stirred to its vitals with a desire to kill in -punishment of treachery, suffering under the sort of humiliation that -makes pride collapse like a toy balloon. And then a sense of humor came -to the rescue. She sprang to her feet and burst into peal after peal of -laughter so loud and irresistible and prolonged, that it brought on -physical weakness and streaming tears. Finally, standing in her favorite -place with her back to the fireplace, dabbing her eyes and steadying her -voice, she began to talk huskily, with anger, and sarcasm, and -looseness, puncturing her sometimes pedantic choice of words with one -that was appropriate to a cab driver. - -"Well, I'll be damned," she said, "Lola--purring little Lola, and in -those clothes, too! I don't mind confessing that I would never have -believed it possible. I mean for you to have had the courage to aim so -high. It's easy to understand _his_ end of it. The greater the ascetic, -the smaller the distance to fall. Ha!--And you, you busy patriot, you -earnest, self-confident young Lochinvar, if only I could make clear to -you the whole ludicrous aspect of this bitter farce, this mordant slice -of satire. You wouldn't enjoy it, because you're a hero-worshipper, with -one foot in the Albert period. And in any case I can't let you into it -because my inherited instinct of sportsmanship is with me still, even in -this. And so you'll miss the point of the orgy of laughter that gave me -the stitch. But I don't mind telling you that it's a scream, and would -make a lovely chapter in the history of statesmen's love affairs." - -That Fallaray should have turned from her to pick up this bourgeois -little person, a servant in his house,--that was what rankled, in spite -of her saying that she understood his end of it. Good God! - -But to Lytham, who knew Lola as Madame de Breze, and had found her to be -willing to make a great sacrifice for love, the inner meaning of Feo's -outburst was lost. He told himself, as he had often done before, that -Feo was an extraordinary creature, queer and erotic, and came back to -the main road bluntly. - -"May I ask you to be so kind as to tell me," he said, "what answer you -gave to Mr. Fallaray when he asked you to give him a divorce? A great -deal depends upon that." - -"You mean because of his career and the success of your political -plans?" - -"Yes." - -"And why do you want to know, pray?" Feo shot the question at Lola. - -"Because of Mr. Fallaray's career," Lola replied simply, "and the -success of these political plans." - -But this was something much too large to be swallowed, much too good to -be true. Regarding Lola as a deceitful minx, a most cunning little -schemer, Feo took the liberty to disbelieve this statement utterly, -although on the face of it Lola appeared to have thrown in her lot with -Lytham. Why?--What was she up to now?--An impish desire to keep these -two on tenterhooks and get a little fun out of all this--it was the only -thing that she could get--suddenly seized Feo strongly. Here was a -gorgeous chance for drama. Here was an epoch-making opportunity -unexpectedly to force Lytham and the young vamp, as she called her, to -ask Fallaray himself for an answer to this question, and watch the -scene. It was probably the only opportunity to satisfy an avid curiosity -to see how Fallaray would behave when faced with his "affinity," and -find out what game the girl who had been her servant was playing. This -high-faluting attitude of Lola's was all nonsense, of course. She had -caught Fallaray with her extraordinary sexiness and meant to cling to -him like a limpet. To become the second Mrs. Fallaray was naturally the -acme of her ambition, even although she succeeded to a man who must -place himself on the shelf in order to indulge in an amorous adventure. -A great idea! But it would have to be carried out carefully, so that no -inkling of it might escape. - -"Excuse me for a moment," said Feo, and marched out of the room with a -perfectly expressionless face. - -Shutting the door behind her, she caught the eye of a man servant who -was on duty in the hall. He came smartly forward. - -"Go up to Mr. Fallaray and say that I shall be greatly obliged if he -will come to my den at once on an important matter." And then, having -taken two or three excited turns up and down the hall, she controlled -her face and went back into the room. - -"Saint Anthony, Young Lochinvar, the lady's maid," she said to herself, -"and the ex-leader of the erotics. A heterogeneous company, if ever -there was one." - -Once more, standing with her back to the fireplace, her elbows on the -low mantel board, Feo looked down at Lola, whose eyes were very large -and like those of a child who had cried herself out of tears. - -"Where have you been?" she asked. - -"At Whitecross, with Lady Cheyne," replied Lola. - -"Oh!--The little fat woman who has the house near the gate in the wall? -I see. And you came back this afternoon?" - -"Yes," said Lola. - -"With my husband?" - -"No," said Lola. - -"Does he know that you intended to give me the pleasure of seeing you -here with our mutual friend?" - -"No," said Lola. - -Was that a lie or not? The girl had been crying, that was obvious. -Something had evidently gone wrong with her scheme. But why this -surreptitious meeting, this bringing in of Lytham? It was easy, of -course, to appreciate _his_ anxiety. He needed an impeccable Fallaray. -He was working for his party, his political campaign, and in the long -run, being an earnest patriot, for his country.--She had a few questions -to put to him too. - -"Where did you meet Lola de Breze, Young Lochinvar?" she asked. - -"At Chilton Park," said Lytham, who had begun to be somewhat mystified -at the way in which things were going; and, if the truth were told, -impatient. All he had come to know was whether he had an ally in Lady -Feo or an enemy, and make his plans accordingly. He could see no reason -for her to dodge the issue. His game of tennis looked hopeless. What -curious creatures women were. - -"When?" - -There was the sound of quick steps in the hall. - -"Last night." - -The door opened and Fallaray walked in. - -With a gleeful smile Feo spoke through his exclamation of surprise. -"Edmund, I would like you to tell your friends what my answer was to -your request for a divorce." - -Hating to be caught in what was obviously an endeavor to influence his -chief's wife against a decision to unhitch himself from marriage and -politics, Lytham sprang to his feet, feeling as disconcerted as he -looked. - -Lola made no movement except to stiffen in her chair. - -Watching Fallaray closely, Feo saw first a flare of passion light up his -eyes at the sight of Lola, and then an expression of resentment come -into them at not being able, others being present, to catch her in his -arms. An impetuous movement had taken him to the middle of the room, -where he drew up short and stood irresolute and self-conscious and -looking rather absurd under the gaze of Lytham and his wife. - -"What is all this?" he asked, after an awkward pause, during which he -began to suspect that he had been tricked by Feo and was faced by a -combination of objection. - -"Don't ask me," said Feo, waving her hand towards Lytham and Lola. - -"Then I must ask you, George," said Fallaray, making an effort to -disguise his anger. He could see that he had been made the subject of -discussion, as if he were some one to be coerced and who did not know -his own business. - -"This is not quite fair," said Lytham. "Our intention was to see Lady -Feo, get her views and cooperation, and then, to-night or to-morrow, -come to you and beg you to do the sane thing in this affair. We had no -hand in your being dragged into this private meeting." - -He too was angry. Feo had cheated and brought about the sort of crisis -that should have been avoided. Any one who knew Fallaray's detestation -of personalities must have seen what this breaking down of his fourth -wall would bring about. - -"Who do you mean by 'we'?" demanded Fallaray. - -"Madame de Breze and myself," said Lytham. - -"What! You ask me to believe that Madame de Breze has come here with you -to persuade my wife to go back on her promise to set me free? What do -you take me for?" He laughed at the utter absurdity of the idea and in -doing so, broke the tension and the stiltedness of the scene, as he -realized that Feo had deliberately intended it to become. And then, with -a certain boyishness that went oddly with his monk-like face, he went -over to Lola and put his hand on her shoulder. - -"All right," he added. "Let's have this out and come to a final -understanding. It will save all further arguments. Just before you -brought Lola here, having, as I can see, worked on her feelings by -talking about your party and telling her that her coming into my life -would ruin my career--I know your dogged enthusiasm, George--I saw my -wife. I put my case to her at once and she agreed very generously to -release me. A messenger will be here in ten minutes to take my statement -to her lawyers and my resignation to the Prime Minister. I shall return -to Chilton to-morrow to wait there, or wherever else it may suit me, -until the end of the divorce proceedings. You won't agree with me, but -that is what I call doing the sane thing. Finally, all going well, as -please God it may, this lady and I will get married and live happily -ever after." - -He spoke lightly, even jauntily, but with an undercurrent of emotion -that it was impossible for him to disguise. - -And then, to Feo's complete amazement, Lola, who had been so quiet and -unobtrusive, rose and backed away from Fallaray, her face as white as -the stone figures at Chilton under moonlight, her hands clasped together -to give her strength, her eyes as dry as an empty well. She was bereft -of tears. - -"But I am not going to marry you," she said, "because if I do everything -will go badly." - -Fallaray sprang forward to take her in his arms and kiss her into love -and life and acquiescence, as he had done before,--once at the gate and -once again last night under the stars. - -But she backed away and ranged herself with Lytham. - -"I love Fallaray," she said. "Fallaray the leader, the man who is -needed, the man who has made himself necessary. If I were to marry -Fallaray the deserter, there would be no such thing as happiness for me -or for him." - -Fallaray's eager hands fell suddenly to his sides. The word that had -come to Lola as an inspiration, though it broke her heart to use it, hit -him like a well-aimed stone. Deserter!--A man who turned and ran, who -slunk away from the fight at its moment of crisis, who absconded from -duty in violation of all traditions of service, thinking of no one but -himself. Deserter! It was the right word, the damnable right word that -rears itself up for every man to read at the crossroads of life.--And he -stood looking at this girl who had brought him back to a momentary youth -through a glamor that gave way to the cold light of duty. His was a -pitiful figure, middle-aged, love-hungry, doomed to be sacrificed upon -the altar of public service. - -Lytham didn't rejoice at the sight, having sympathy and imagination. -Neither did Feo, who had just lost her own grasp upon a dream. - -"Is it possible that you love me so much?" he asked. - -And Lola said, "Yes, yes!" - -It was on Lytham's tongue to say, "My dear man, don't you gather what I -mean by the 'sane thing'? There's no need to take this in the spirit of -a Knight Crusader. A little nest somewhere, discreetly guarded." - -And it was on Feo's tongue to add, also completely modern, "Of course. -Why not? Isn't it done every day? No one need know, and if it's ever -found out, isn't it the unwritten law to protect the reputations of -public men so long as there is no irate husband to stir up our -hypocritical moral sense by bringing the thing into the open?" - -But neither spoke. There was something in the way in which Lola stood, -brave but trembling, that kept them silent; something in Fallaray's -expression of adoration and respect that made them feel ashamed of their -materialism. They were ignorant of all that had gone to the making of -Lola's apprenticeship to give that lonely man the rustle of silk, and of -the fact that he had grown to love this girl not as a mistress, but as a -wife. - -And after a silence that held them breathless, Fallaray spoke again. "I -must be worthy of you, my little Lola," he said, "and not desert. I will -go on with the glory of your love as a banner--and if I die first, I -will wait for you on the other side of the Bridge." - -"I will be faithful," she said. - -He held out his arms, and she rushed into them with a great cry, pressed -herself to his heart, and took her last living kiss. - -"Till then," said Fallaray finally, letting her go. - -But nothing more came from Lola except a groping movement of her hands. - -At the door, square of shoulder, Fallaray beckoned to Lytham and went -out and up to his room. - -It was Feo who wept. - - - -VI - - -Leaving his cubby-hole behind the screen and taking the inevitable glass -out of his eye, John Breezy waddled through the shop to the parlor to -enjoy a cup of tea. It was good to see the new brightness and daintiness -assumed by the whole of that little place since Lola had come back and -put her touch upon everything. It was good also to break away from the -mechanism of unhealthy watches for a quarter of an hour and get into -contact with humanity that was cheerful and well. - -"Hurray!" he said, "what should I do without my cupper tea?" - -With one eye on the shop door and the other on the teapot, Mrs. Breezy -presided at the chaotic table. The tea tray had cleared an opening among -the heterogeneous mass of accumulation. It was the ritual of week-day -afternoons, faithfully performed year in and year out,--and of late, -since Lola had been helping in the shop, more frequently interrupted -than ever before. Now that she had fallen into the steady habit of -sitting behind the counter near the window, business had perked up -noticeably and it was astonishing how many young men were discovering -the need of safety-razor blades, Waterman's fountain pens, silver -cigarette cases, and the like. Was it astonishing? - -"Nice weather for Lola's afternoon off," said Breezy, emptying his cup -into his saucer, cabman's fashion. Tea cooled the sooner like that and -went down with a more succulent sound. "Hampton Court again?" - -"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Breezy, "with Ernest. Wonderful how much -better he looks since Lola came back,--cleaner, more self-respecting. He -had another poem in the paper yesterday. Did you read it?" - -"Um. I scanned it over. Pretty good coming from behind a face like that. -Somehow, I always think of a poet as a man with big eyes, a velvet coat, -hair all over his face, who was born with a dictionary in his hand. -Funny thing, breaking out in a lad like Ernest. Caused by the War, -p'raps. It's left a lot of queer things behind it. He'd make more money -if he tried to turn out stories like Garvice wrote. I think I shall -speak to him about it and get him to be practical." - -"No, don't," said Mrs. Breezy, "you'd upset Lola. She believes in Ernest -and wants him to make a name." - -"What's the good of a name without money? However, I won't interfere. -You--you don't suppose that Lola's thinking of marrying that boy some -day, do you?" It was a most uncomfortable thought. His little girl must -do better than that. - -Mrs. Breezy was silent for a moment and her face wore a look of the most -curious puzzlement. - -"I don't know what she thinks, John. To tell you the truth, dear, I -don't know anything about her, and I never did. I don't know why she -went to Dover Street or why she came back. She's never told me and I've -never asked her. When I catch her face sometimes, I can see in it -something that makes my heart miss a beat. I can't describe it. It may -be pain, it may be joy,--I don't know. I can't tell. But it isn't regret -and it isn't sorrow. It lights her up like, as though there was -something burning in her heart. John, our little girl's miles away from -us, although she's never been nearer. She dreams, I think, and walks in -another world with some one. We've got to be very kind to her, old man. -She's--she's a strange, strange child." - -Breezy pushed himself out of the sofa as a rather heavily laden boat is -oozed out of mud. He was irritable and perhaps a little frightened. - -"I don't find her strange," he said. "Strange! What a word! She's a good -girl, that's what she is,--as open as a book, with nothing to hide. And -she's our girl, and she's doing her job without grumbling, and she's -doubling the business. And what's more, she's cheerful and happy and -loving. I'm damned if I can see anything strange about her. You -certainly have a knack of saying queer things about Lola, one way 'n' -another, you have!" And he marched out of the parlor in a kind of fat -huff, only to march back again immediately to put his arm round the -little woman's neck and give her an apologetic kiss. He was one of these -men who loved peace at any price and erected high barriers round himself -in order that he shouldn't see anything to disturb his ease of mind. It -was the same form of brain anaemia, the same lack of moral courage from -which the Liberal Government had suffered in the face of the warning of -Lord Roberts. In other words, the policy of the ostrich. Knowing very -well that his wife had all the brains of the partnership and never said -anything for the mere sake of saying it, he was quite sure that she was -right as to Lola, and he had himself almost swallowed one of the little -screws that played so large a part in the interior of his watches on -seeing the look that Mrs. Breezy had described on the face of his little -girl as she sat perched up on a high stool waiting for the next -customer, with her eyes on something very far away. And because this -gave him a jar and frightened him a little, he persuaded himself that -what he had seen he had not seen, because it was uncomfortable to see -it. It is a form of mental dope and it suits all sorts of -constitutions,--like religion. - -And so, blotting out of his mind the little conversation which had taken -place over the teapot, Breezy returned to his job, his fat hands working -on the intricate mechanisms of his Swiss and American invalids with -astonishing delicacy of touch; and all the while he whistled softly -through his teeth. He was never at a loss for a tune because the flotsam -and jetsam that came in and went out of Queen's Road, Bayswater, with -their tired pianos, their squeaky fiddles, and their throaty baritones -provided him with all the sentimental ballads of yesterday and to-day. - -It was seven o'clock when he looked up and saw Lola enter with Ernest -Treadwell,--the girl with a reflection of all the flowers of Hampton -Court in her eyes and the boy with love and adoration in his. It was -true that all about him there was a great improvement, a more healthy -appearance, a look of honest sleep and clean thinking. But he was still -the same ugly duckling with obstreperous hair and unfortunate teeth and -a half-precocious, half-timid manner. All the same, the fairies had -touched him at his birth and endowed him with that strange thing that is -called genius. He had the soul of a poet. - -"Come up," said Lola, "you're not doing anything to-night, so you may as -well stay to dinner. I've found something I want to read to you." - -She waved her hand to her father, smiled at her mother who was selling -note-paper to a housemaid from Inverness Terrace for love letters--and -so the paper was pink--and led the way upstairs to the drawing-room -which had been opened up and put in daily use. Its Sabbath look and -Sabbath smell, its antimacassars had disappeared. There were books -about, many books; sevenpenny editions of novels that hadn't fallen -quite stillborn from the press, and one or two by Wells and Lawrence and -Somerset Maugham. - -"Sit down for a moment, Ernie," she said, "and make yourself happy. I'll -be with you again in five minutes." And he looked after her with a dog's -eyes and sat down to watch the door with a dog's patience. - -In her own room she went to her desk, unlocked a drawer and took out a -page cut from _The Tatler_ on which was reproduced a photograph of -Fallaray. She had framed it and kept it hidden away under lock and key, -and always when she came home from her walks, and several times a day -when she could slip up and shut herself in for a moment or two, she took -it out to gaze at it and press it to her breast. It was her last link, -her last and everlasting link with the foolish dreams with which that -room was so intimately associated,--a room no longer made up to -represent that of a courtesan; a normal room now, suitable to the -daughter of a watchmaker in Queen's Road, Bayswater. - -The evening sun gilded the commonplace line of the roofs opposite as she -stood in the window with Fallaray's face against her heart. - -"I love you," she said, "I love you. I shall always love you, and if I -die first, I shall wait for you on the other side of the Bridge." - -She returned it to its hiding place, took off her hat, tidied her hair, -picked up a little book and went back to the drawing-room. - -"Listen," she said, "this is for you. - - "'I shall see my way as birds their trackless way. - I shall arrive,--what time, what circuit first, - I ask not; but unless God send His hail - Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, - In some time, His good time, I shall arrive; - He guides me and the bird. In His good time.'" - -And as the boy watched her and saw her light up as though there were -something burning in her heart, he knew that those lines were as much -for herself as for him. - -THE END - - - -"The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay" - -There Are Two Sides to Everything-- - ---including the wrapper which covers every Grosset & Dunlap book. When -you feel in the mood for a good romance, refer to the carefully selected -list of modern fiction comprising most of the successes by prominent -writers of the day which is printed on the back of every Grosset & -Dunlap book wrapper. - -You will find more than five hundred titles to choose from--books for -every mood and every taste and every pocketbook. - -Don't forget the other side, but in case the wrapper is lost, write to -the publishers for a complete catalog. - -There is a Grosset & Dunlap Book for every mood and for every taste. - - - -ETHEL M. DELL'S NOVELS - -May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -THE LAMP IN THE DESERT - -The scene of this splendid story is laid in India and tells of the lamp -of love that continues to shine through all sorts of tribulations to -final happiness. - -GREATHEART - -The story of a cripple whose deformed body conceals a noble soul. - -THE HUNDREDTH CHANCE - -A hero who worked to win even when there was only "a hundredth chance." - -THE SWINDLER - -The story of a "bad man's" soul revealed by a woman's faith. - -THE TIDAL WAVE - -Tales of love and of women who learned to know the true from the false. - -THE SAFETY CURTAIN - -A very vivid love story of India. The volume also contains four other -long stories of equal interest. - -Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - - - -FLORENCE L. BARCLAY'S NOVELS - -May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -THE WHITE LADIES OF WORCESTER - -A novel of the 12th Century. The heroine, believing she had lost her -lover, enters a convent. He returns, and interesting developments -follow. - -THE UPAS TREE - -A love story of rare charm. It deals with a successful author and his -wife. - -THROUGH THE POSTERN GATE - -The story of a seven day courtship, in which the discrepancy in ages -vanished into insignificance before the convincing demonstration of -abiding love. - -THE ROSARY - -The story of a young artist who is reputed to love beauty above all else -in the world, but who, when blinded through an accident, gains life's -greatest happiness. A rare story of the great passion of two real people -superbly capable of love, its sacrifices and its exceeding reward. - -THE MISTRESS OF SHENSTONE - -The lovely young Lady Ingleby, recently widowed by the death of a -husband who never understood her, meets a fine, clean young chap who is -ignorant of her title and they fall deeply in love with each other. When -he learns her real identity a situation of singular power is developed. - -THE BROKEN HALO - -The story of a young man whose religious belief was shattered in -childhood and restored to him by the little white lady, many years older -than himself, to whom he is passionately devoted. - -THE FOLLOWING OF THE STAR - -The story of a young missionary, who, about to start for Africa, marries -wealthy Diana Rivers, in order to help her fulfill the conditions of her -uncle's will, and how they finally come to love each other and are -reunited after experiences that soften and purify. - -Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - - - -BOOTH TARKINGTON'S NOVELS - -May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -SEVENTEEN. Illustrated by Arthur William Brown. - -No one but the creator of Penrod could have portrayed the immortal young -people of this story. Its humor is irresistible and reminiscent of the -time when the reader was Seventeen. - -PENROD. Illustrated by Gordon Grant. - -This is a picture of a boy's heart, full of the lovable, humorous, -tragic things which are locked secrets to most older folks. It is a -finished, exquisite work. - -PENROD AND SAM. Illustrated by Worth Brehm. - -Like "Penrod" and "Seventeen," this book contains some remarkable phases -of real boyhood and some of the best stories of juvenile prankishness -that have ever been written. - -THE TURMOIL. Illustrated by C. E. Chambers. - -Bibbs Sheridan is a dreamy, imaginative youth, who revolts against his -father's plans for him to be a servitor of big business. The love of a -fine girl turns Bibb's life from failure to success. - -THE GENTLEMAN FROM INDIANA. Frontispiece. - -A story of love and politics,--more especially a picture of a country -editor's life in Indiana, but the charm of the book lies in the love -interest. - -THE FLIRT. Illustrated by Clarence F. Underwood. - -The "Flirt," the younger of two sisters, breaks one girl's engagement, -drives one man to suicide, causes the murder of another, leads another -to lose his fortune, and in the end marries a stupid and unpromising -suitor, leaving the really worthy one to marry her sister. - -Ask for Complete free list of G. & D, Popular Copyrighted Fiction - -Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - - - -KATHLEEN NORRIS' STORIES - -May be had wherever books are sold. Ask far Grosset & Dunlap's list - -SISTERS. Frontispiece by Frank Street. - -The California Redwoods furnish the background for this beautiful story -of sisterly devotion and sacrifice. - -POOR, DEAR, MARGARET KIRBY. Frontispiece by George Gibbs. - -A collection of delightful stories, including "Bridging the Years" and -"The Tide-Marsh." This story is now shown in moving pictures. - -JOSSELYN'S WIFE. Frontispiece by C. 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Popular Copyrighted Fiction - -Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - - - -STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY GENE STRATTON-PORTER - -May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. - -MICHAEL O'HALLORAN, Illustrated by Frances Rogers. - -Michael is a quick-witted little Irish newsboy, living in Northern -Indiana. He adopts a deserted little girl, a cripple. He also assumes -the responsibility of leading the entire rural community upward and -onward. - -LADDIE. Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer. - -This is a bright, cheery tale with the scenes laid in Indiana. The story -is told by Little Sister, the youngest member of a large family, but it -is concerned not so much with childish doings as with the love affairs -of older members of the family. Chief among them is that of Laddie and -the Princess, an English girl who has come to live in the neighborhood -and about whose family there hangs a mystery. - -THE HARVESTER. Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs. - -"The Harvester," is a man of the woods and fields, and if the book had -nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man it would be notable. -But when the Girl comes to his "Medicine Woods," there begins a romance -of the rarest idyllic quality. - -FRECKLES. Illustrated. - -Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he -takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great -Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to -the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The -Angel" are full of real sentiment. - -A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. Illustrated. - -The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, loveable type of -the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness -towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of -her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and -unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. - -AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. Illustrations in colors. - -The scene of this charming love story is laid in Central Indiana. The -story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self-sacrificing love. -The novel is brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and -its pathos and tender sentiment will endear it to all. - -THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL. Profusely illustrated. - -A love ideal of the Cardinal bird and his mate, told with delicacy and -humor. - -Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RUSTLE OF SILK *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35079 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. 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