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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Winding Paths, by Gertrude Page
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Winding Paths
+
+Author: Gertrude Page
+
+Release Date: July 27, 2002 [eBook #5636]
+[Most recently updated: January 29, 2022]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: W. Debeuf
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINDING PATHS ***
+
+
+
+
+Winding Paths
+
+by Gertrude Page
+
+
+Contents
+
+ CHAPTER I.
+ CHAPTER II.
+ CHAPTER III.
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ CHAPTER V.
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ CHAPTER X.
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ CHAPTER XIII.
+ CHAPTER XIV.
+ CHAPTER XV.
+ CHAPTER XVI.
+ CHAPTER XVII.
+ CHAPTER XVIII.
+ CHAPTER XIX.
+ CHAPTER XX.
+ CHAPTER XXI.
+ CHAPTER XXII.
+ CHAPTER XXIII.
+ CHAPTER XXIV.
+ CHAPTER XXV.
+ CHAPTER XXVI.
+ CHAPTER XXVII.
+ CHAPTER XXVIII.
+ CHAPTER XXIX.
+ CHAPTER XXX.
+ CHAPTER XXXI.
+ CHAPTER XXXII.
+ CHAPTER XXXIII.
+ CHAPTER XXXIV.
+ CHAPTER XXXV.
+ CHAPTER XXXVI.
+ CHAPTER XXXVII.
+ CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+ CHAPTER XXXIX.
+ CHAPTER XL.
+ CHAPTER XLI.
+ CHAPTER XLII.
+ CHAPTER XLIII.
+ CHAPTER XLIV.
+ CHAPTER XLV.
+ CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+
+
+
+“So many gods, so many creeds,
+So many paths that wind and wind,
+And just the art of being kind
+Is all the sad world needs.”
+
+
+
+
+WINDING PATHS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+There were several interesting points about Hal Pritchard and Lorraine
+Vivian, but perhaps the most striking was their friendship for each
+other. From two wide-apart extremes they had somehow gravitated
+together, and commenced at boarding-school a friendship which only
+deepened and strengthened after their exit from the wise supervision of
+the Misses Walton, and their entrance as “finished” young women into
+the wide area of the world at large.
+
+Lorraine went first. She was six years older than Hal, and under
+ordinary circumstances would hardly have been at school with her at
+all. As it was, she went at nineteen because she was not very strong,
+and sea air was considered good for her. She was a sort of
+parlour-boarder, sent to study languages and accomplishments while she
+inhaled the sea air of Eastgate. Why, among all the scholars, who for
+the most part regarded her as a resplendent, beautifully dressed being
+outside their sphere, she should have quickly developed an ardent
+affection for Hal, the rough-and-ready tomboy, remained a mystery; but
+far from being a passing fancy, it ripened steadily into a deep and
+lasting attachment.
+
+When Hal was fifteen, Lorraine left; and it has to be admitted that the
+anxious, motherly hearts of the Misses Walton drew a deep breath of
+relief, and hoped the friendship would now cease, unfed by daily
+contact and daily mutual interests. But there they under-estimated the
+depth of affection already in the hearts of the girls, and their
+natural loyalty, which scorned a mere question of separation, and
+entered into one another’s interests just as eagerly as when they were
+together.
+
+Not that they, the Misses Walton, had anything actually against
+Lorraine, beyond the fact that she promised a degree of beauty likely,
+they felt, coupled as it was with a charming wit and a fascinating
+personality, to open out some striking career for her, and possibly
+become a snare and a temptation.
+
+On the other hand, Hal was just a homely, nondescript, untidy, riotous
+type of schoolgirl, with a very strong capacity for affection, and an
+unmanageable predilection for scrapes and adventures, that made her
+more likely to fall under the sway of Lorraine, should it promise any
+chance of excitement.
+
+And one had only to view Lorraine among the other “young ladies” of the
+seminary to fear the worst. Miss Emily Walton would never have admitted
+it; but even she, fondly clinging to the old tradition that the terms
+“girls” or “women” are less impressive than “young ladies”, felt
+somehow that the orthodox nomenclature did not successfully fit her two
+most remarkable pupils. Of course they were ladies by birth and
+education, else they would certainly not have been admitted to so
+select a seminary; but whereas the rest of the pupils might be said
+more or less to study, and improve, and have their being in a milk and
+biscuit atmosphere, Hal and Lorraine were quite uncomfortably more like
+champagne and good, honest, frothing beer.
+
+No amount of prunes and prism advice and surroundings seemed to dull
+the sparkle in Lorraine, nor daunt nor suppress fearless, outspoken,
+unmanageable Hal. In separate camps, with a nice little following each,
+to keep an even balance, they might merely have livened the free hours;
+but as a combination it soon became apparent they would waken up the
+embryo young ladies quite alarmingly, and initiate a new atmosphere of
+gaiety that might become beyond the restraining, select influence even
+of the Misses Walton.
+
+The first scare came with the new French mistress, who had a perfect
+Parisian accent, but knew very little English. Of course Lorraine
+easily divined this, and, being something of a French scholar already,
+she soon won Mademoiselle’s confidence by one or two charmingly
+expressed, lucid French explanations.
+
+Then came the translation lesson, and choosing a fable that would
+specially lend itself, she started the class off translating it into an
+English fabrication that convulsed both pupils and mistress. Hal, of
+course, followed suit, and the merriment grew fast and furious after a
+few positively rowdy lessons.
+
+Mademoiselle herself gave the fun away at the governesses’ dinner, a
+very precise and formal meal, which took place at seven o’clock, to be
+followed at eight by the pupils’ supper of bread-and-butter with
+occasional sardines. She related in broken English what an amusing book
+they had to read, repeating a few slang terms, that would certainly
+not, under any circumstances, have been allowed to pass the lips of the
+young ladies.
+
+After that it was deemed advisable Lorraine should translate French
+alone, and Hal be severely admonished.
+
+Then there was the dreadful affair of the Boys’ College. It was not
+unusual for them to walk past the school on Sunday afternoons; but it
+was only after Lorraine came that a system was instituted by which, if
+the four front boys all blew their noses as they passed, it was a
+signal that a note, or possibly several, had been slipped under the
+loose brick at the school entrance.
+
+Further, it was only Lorraine who could have sent the answers, because
+none of the other girls had an uncle often running down for a breath of
+sea air, when, of course, he needed his dear niece’s company. He was
+certainly a very attentive uncle, and a very generous one too, judging
+by the Buszard’s cakes and De Brei’s chocolates, and Miss Walton could
+not help eyeing him a little askance.
+
+But then, as Miss Emily said, he was such a very striking,
+distinguished-looking gentleman, people had already been interested to
+learn he had a niece at the Misses Walton’s seminary. Besides, one
+could not reasonably object to a relative calling, and he had seemed so
+devoted to Lorraine’s handsome mother when they had together brought
+her to school.
+
+But of course, after the disgraceful episode of the notes that blew
+into the road, the windows had to be dulled at once, so that no one
+could see the boys pass. It was a mercy the thing had been discovered
+so soon.
+
+Then shortly after came the breaking-up dances, one for the
+governesses, when the masters from the college were invited, and one
+the next night for the girls, when the remains of the same supper did
+duty again, and with reference to which Miss Walton gently told them
+she had not been able to ask any of the boys from the school, as she
+was afraid their parents would not approve; she hoped they were not
+disappointed, and that the big girls would dance with the little ones,
+as it pleased them so.
+
+Lorraine immediately replied sweetly that none of them cared about
+dancing with boys, and some of the children would be much more amusing.
+She made herself spokeswoman, because Miss Walton had
+half-unconsciously glanced at her at the mere mention of the word boys,
+fondly believing that the other well-brought-up pupils would prefer
+their room to their company, whereas Lorraine might think the party
+very tame. Her answer was a pleasant surprise.
+
+But then, who was to know that the night of the governesses’ dance she
+had bribed the three girls in the small dormitory to silence, and after
+some half-dozen of them had gone to bed with their night-gowns over
+their dresses, had given the signal to arise directly the dance was in
+full swing. After that they adjourned to the small dormitory and spread
+out a repast of sweets and cakes, to which such of the younger masters
+as were brave enough to risk detection slipped away up the school
+staircase at intervals, to be more than rewarded by Lorraine’s
+inimitable mimicry.
+
+“There will be no boys for you to dance with, dear girls,” she told
+them gently, “as your parents might not approve,” then added, with
+roguish lights in her splendid eyes: “No boys, dear girls, only a few
+masters to supper in the small dormitory.”
+
+Hal’s misdemeanours were of a less subtle kind. Neither boys nor
+masters interested her particularly as yet; but there were a
+thousand-and-one other ways of livening things up, and she tried them
+all, sometimes getting off scot free, and sometimes finding herself
+uncomfortably pilloried before the rest of the school, to be
+cross-questioned and severely admonished at great lenght before being
+“sent to Coventry” for a stated period.
+
+But, had she only known it, there were many chicken-hearted girls who
+envied her even her disgrace, for the sake of the dauntless, shining
+spirit of her that nothing ever crushed. And as for being “sent to
+Coventry”, well, Hal and Lorraine easily coped with that through the
+twopennyworth system.
+
+If an offender was sent to Coventry, any other girl who spoke to her
+had to pay a fine of twopence, and if either of these two gay spirits
+found themselves doomed to silence, they persuaded such of the others
+as were “game” enough, to have occasional “twopennyworths”.
+
+Of the two, Hal was far the greater favourite; she was in fact the
+popular idol; for though the girls were full of admiration for
+Lorraine, and not a little proud of her, they were also a little afraid
+of a wit that could be sharp-edged, and perhaps resentful too of that
+nameless something about her striking personality that made them feel
+their inferiority.
+
+Hal was quite different, and her unfailing spirits, her vigorous
+championing of the oppressed, or scathing denunciation of anything
+sneaky and mean, made them all look up to her, and love her, whether
+she knew or not.
+
+Even the governess felt her compelling attraction, and would often, by
+a timely word, save her from the consequences of some forgetful moment.
+At the same time, the one who warned Miss Walton against the possible
+ill results of the girl’s growing love for Lorraine little understood
+the nature she had to deal with.
+
+When Hal found herself in the private sanctum, being gently admonished
+concerning a friendship that was thought to be growing too strong, she
+was quick instantly to resent the slur on her chum. She had been sent
+for immediately after “evening prep.,” and having, as usual, inked her
+fingers generously, and rubbed an ink-smudge across her face, to say
+nothing of really disgracefully tumbled hair, she looked a comical
+enough object standing before the impressive presence of the head
+mistress.
+
+“Really, Hal,” Miss Walton remonstrated, “can’t you even keep tidy for
+an hour in the evening?”
+
+“Not when it’s German night,” answered outspoken Hal; “where to put the
+verbs, and how to split them, makes my hair stand on end, and the ink
+squirm out of the pot.”
+
+Miss Walton tried to look severe, remarking: “Don’t be frivolous here,
+my dear”; but, as Hal described it later, “she looked as if having so
+often to be sedate was beginning to make her tired.”
+
+But when she proceeded to explain to Hal that neither she nor her
+sister were easy in their minds about her growing devotion to Lorraine,
+Hal’s expressive mouth began to look rather stern, and neither the
+ink-smudges nor the tousled hair could rob her of a certain naïve
+dignity as she asked, “Are you implying anything against Lorraine?”
+
+“No, no, my dear, certainly not,” Miss Walton replied, feeling slightly
+at a loss to express herself, “but I have never encouraged a violent
+friendship between two girls that is apt to make them hold aloof from
+the others, and be continually in one another’s society. And in this
+instance, Lorraine being so much older than you, and of a temperament
+hardly likely to appeal to your brother, as a desirable one in your
+great friend—”
+
+“I am not asking Dudley to make her his great friend—”
+
+“Don’t interrupt me, dear. I am only speaking of what I am perfectly
+aware are your brother’s feeling concerning you; and seeing you have
+neither father nor mother, I feel my responsibility and his the
+greater.”
+
+“But what is the matter with Lorraine?” Hal cried, growing a little
+exasperated. “She is not nearly so frivolous as I am, and works far
+harder.”
+
+Miss Walton hesitated a little. “We feel she is naturally rather
+worldly-minded and ambitious, whereas you—” She paused.
+
+“Whereas I am a simpleton,” suggested Hal, with a mischievous light in
+her eyes. “Well, then, dear Miss Walton, how fortunate for me that some
+one clever and briljant is willing to give me her friendship and help
+to lift me out of my slough of simpletondom!”
+
+Miss Walton looked up with a reproof on her lips, but it died away, and
+a new expression came into her eyes as she seemed to see something in
+this unruly pupil she had not before suspected. Hal still looked as if
+a smothered sense of injustice might presently explode into hot words;
+but in the meantime the air of dignity stood its ground in spite of
+smudges and untidiness.
+
+Neither spoke for a moment, and then Miss Walton remarked: “You do not
+mean to be guided by me in this matter?”
+
+“Lorraine is my friend,” Hal answered. “I cannot let myself listen to
+anything that suggests a slur upon her.”
+
+“Not even if your brother expressed a wish on the subject?”
+
+“I do not ask Dudley to let me choose his friends.”
+
+“That is quite a different matter. He is fifteen years your senior.”
+
+Hal was silent. She stood with her hands behind her, and her head held
+high, and her clear eyes very straight to the front; well-knit,
+well-built, with a promise of that vague something which is so much
+stronger a factor in the world than mere beauty.
+
+Miss Walton, who necessarily saw much of the mediocre and commonplace
+in her life-work of turning growing girls into presentable young women,
+felt her feelings undergo a further change. She also had the tact to
+see an appeal would go farther than mere advice.
+
+“I was only thinking of you, Hal,” she said, a trifle tiredly. “I have
+nothing against Lorraine, except that she is dangerously attractive if
+she likes, and her love of admiration and excitement does not make her
+a very wise friend for a girl of your age. You are different, and your
+paths are likely to lead far apart in the future. It did not seem to me
+desirable you should grow too fond of each other.”
+
+Even as she spoke she found herself wondering what Hal would say, and
+in an unlooked-for way interested.
+
+Hal answered promptly:
+
+“I do not think our lives will lie apart. Both of us will have to be
+breadwinners at any rate, and that will be a bond.”
+
+Her mobile face seemed to change. “Miss Walton, I’m devoted to
+Lorraine. I always shall be. But you needn’t be anxious. The stronger
+influence is not where you think. I can bend Lorraine’s will, but she
+cannot bend mine. It will always be so. And nothing that you nor any
+one can say will make me change to her.”
+
+They said little more, but when she was alone the head mistress stood
+silently for some minutes looking into the dying embers of her fire.
+Then she uttered to herself an enigmatical sentence:
+
+“Beauty will give to Lorraine the great career; but the greater woman
+will be Hal.”
+
+Shortly after that Lorraine departed, and about a year later embarked
+in the theatrical world.
+
+No one was surprised, but very adverse opinions were expressed among
+the girls concerning her success or otherwise; those who were jealous,
+or who had felt slighted during her short reign as school beauty,
+condemning any possible likelihood of a hit.
+
+Hal said very little. She was already reaching out tentacles to the
+wider world, where schoolgirl criticisms would be mere prattle; and it
+was far more serious to her to wonder what Brother Dudley would think
+of her having an actress for her greatest friend.
+
+She foresaw rocks ahead, but smiled humorously to herself in spite of
+them.
+
+“What a tussle there’ll be!” was her thought, “and how in the world am
+I to convince Dudley that Lorraine does not represent a receptacle for
+all the deadly sins? Heigho! The mere fact of my disagreeing will
+persuade him I am already contaminated, and he will see us both
+heading, like fire-engines, for the nethermost hell.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+If Dudley Pritchard’s imagination did not actually picture the lurid
+and violent descent Hal suggested, it certainly did view with the
+utmost alarm his lively young sister’s friendship with a fully fledged
+actress.
+
+As a matter of fact, Miss Walton’s prognostications concerning his
+attitude to Lorraine Vivian, even as a schoolgirl, had been instantly
+confirmed upon their first meeting.
+
+For no particular reason he disapproved of her. That was rather typical
+of Dudley. He disapproved of a good many things without quite knowing
+why, or being at any particular pains to find out.
+
+Not that it made him bigoted. He could in fact be fairly tolerant; but
+as Hal affectionately observed, Dudley was so apt to pat himself on the
+back for his toleration towards things that it would never have occured
+to most persons needed tolerating.
+
+She knew perfectly well that he considered himself very tolerant
+towards much that was to be deprecated in her, but, far from resenting
+his attitude, she saw chiefly the humorous side, and managed to glean a
+good deal of quiet amusement from it.
+
+Considering the fifteen years’ difference in their ages, and the fact
+that Dudley was a hard-working architect in London, seeing life on all
+sides, while Hal was still a hoydenish schoolgirl, it was really
+remarkable how thoroughly she grasped and understood his character, and
+a great deal concerning the world in general, while he seemed to remain
+at his first decisions concerning her and most things.
+
+It was just perhaps the difference between the book-student and the
+life-student. Dudley had always had a passion for books and for his
+profession. His clever brain was a well of knowledge concerning ancient
+architectures and relics of antiquity. He studied them because he loved
+them, and, before all things else, to him they seemed worth while.
+
+He loved his sister also—he loved her better than any one, but it would
+never have occured to him that she should be studied, or that there was
+anything in her to study. To him she was quite an ordinary girl, rather
+nice-looking when she was neat, but with a most unfortunate lack of the
+sedate dignity and discretion that he considered essential to the
+typically admirable woman.
+
+That there might be other traits in their place, equally admirable, did
+not occur to him. They ware not at any rate the traits he most admired.
+
+Hal, on the other hand, was different in every respect. She loathed
+books, and learning, and what she called “dead old bones and rubbish.”
+But she loved human nature, and studied it in every phase she could.
+
+Left at a very tender age to Dudley’s sole care and protection, she had
+to grow up without the enfolding, sympathetic love of a mother, or the
+gay companionship of brothers and sisters. Not in the least depressed,
+she started off at an early age in quest of adventure to see what the
+world was like outside the four walls of their home.
+
+Brought back, sometimes by a policeman, with whom she had already
+become on the friendliest terms, sometimes in a cab in which some one
+else had placed her, sometimes by a kindly stranger, she would yet slip
+away again on the first opportunity, into the crush of mankind.
+Punishment and expostulation were alike useless; Hal was just as
+fascinated with people as Dudley was with books, and where her nature
+called she fearlessly followed.
+
+Through this roving trait she picked up an amount of commonplace,
+everyday knowledge that would have dumbfoundered the clever young
+architect, had he been in the least able to comprehend it. But while he
+dipped enthusiastically into bygone ages, and won letters and honours
+in his profession, she asked questions about life in the present, and
+grappled with the problem of everyday existence and the peculiarities
+of human nature, in a way that made her largely his superior, despite
+his letters and honours.
+
+And best of all was her complete understanding of him. Dudley fondly
+imagined he was fulfilling to the best possible endeavours his
+obligations of love and guardianship to his young sister. The young
+sister, with her tender, quizzical understanding, regarded him as a
+mere child, with a deliciously humorous way of always taking himself
+very seriously; a brilliant brain, an irritating fund of superiority,
+and something altogether apart that made him dearer than heaven and
+earth and all things therein to her.
+
+Hal might be dearer than all else to Dudley, without finding herself
+loved in any way out of the ordinary, seeing how little he cared much
+about except his profession; but to be the beloved of all, to an eager,
+passionate, intense nature like hers, meant that in her heart she had
+placed him upon a pedestal, and, while fondly having her little smile
+over his shortcomings, yet loved him with an all-embracing love. He did
+not suspect it, and he would not have understood it if he had; being
+rather of the opinion that, considering all he had tried to be to her,
+she might have loved him enough in return to make a greater effort to
+please him.
+
+Her obdurate resistance during the first stage of his disapproval of
+Lorraine Vivian increased this feeling considerably. He felt that if
+she really cared for him she should be willing to be guided by his
+judgment; and while perceiving, just as Miss Walton had done, that she
+meant to have her own way, he had less perspicacity to perceive also
+that nameless trait which, for want of a better word, we sometimes call
+grit, and which dimly proclaimed she might be trusted to follow her own
+strength of character.
+
+When, later, his attitude of displeasure increased a thousandfold.
+
+He was not told of it just at first. Hal was then in the throes of
+convincing him that her particular talents lay in the direction of
+secretarial work and journalism, rather than governessing or idleness,
+and persuading him to make arrangements at once for her to learn
+shorthand and typewriting with a view to becoming the private secretary
+of a well-known editor of one of the leading newspapers.
+
+The editor in question was a distant connection, and quite willing to
+take her if she proved herself capable, recognising, through his skill
+at reading character, that she might eventually prove invaluable in
+other ways than mere letter-writing.
+
+Dudley, seeing no farther than the fact of the City office, set his
+face resolutely against it as long as he could; but, of course, in the
+end Hal carried the day. Then came the shock of the knowledge that
+Lorraine had gone on the stage; and if, as had been said before, he did
+not actually picture the lurid exit to the lower regions Hal gave him
+credit for, he was sufficiently upset to have wakeful nights and many
+anxious, worried hours.
+
+And to make it worse, Hal would not even be serious.
+
+“Oh, don’t look like that, Dudley!” she cried; “we really are not in
+any immediate danger of selling our souls to the Prince of Darkness.
+You dear old solemnsides! Just because Lorraine is going on the stage,
+I believe you already see me in spangles, jumping through a hoop. Or
+rather ‘trying to’, because it is a dead cert. I should miss the hoop,
+and do a sort of double somersault over the horse’s tail.”
+
+Dudley shut his firm lips a little more tightly, and looked hard at his
+boots, without vouchsafing a reply.
+
+“As a matter of fact,” continued the incorrigible, “you ought to
+perceive how beautifully life balances things, by giving a dangerously
+attractive person like Lorraine a matter-of-fact, commonplace pal like
+myself to restrain her, and at the same time ward off possible dangers
+from various unoffending humans, who might fall hurtfully under her
+spell.”
+
+“It is only the danger to you that I have anything to do with.”
+
+“Oh fie, Dudley! as if I mattered half as much as Humanity with a
+capital H.”
+
+“To me, personally, you matter far more in this particular case.”
+
+“And yet, really, the chief danger to me is that I might unconsciously
+catch some reflection of Lorraine’s charm and become dangerously
+attractive myself, instead of just an outspoken hobbledehoy no one
+takes seriously.”
+
+“I am not afraid of that,” he said, evoking a peal of laughter of which
+he could not even see the point; “but since you are quite determined to
+go into the City as a secretary, instead of procuring a nice
+comfortable home as a companion, or staying quietly here to improve
+your mind, I naturally feel you will encounter quite enough dangers
+without getting mixed up in a theatrical set. Though, really,” in a
+grumbling voice, “I can’t see why you don’t stay at home like any
+sensible girl. If I am not rich, I have at least enough for two.”
+
+“But if I stayed at home, and lived on you, Dudley, I should feel I had
+to improve my mind by way of making you some return; and you can’t
+think how dreadfully my mind hates the idea of being improved. And if I
+went to some dear old lady as companion, she would be sure to die in an
+apoplectic fit in a month, and I should be charged with manslaughter.
+And I can’t teach, because I don’t know anything. The only serious
+danger I shall run as Mr. Elliott’s secretary will be putting an
+occasional addition of my own to his letters, in a fit of exasperation,
+or driving his sub-editor mad; and he seems willing to risk that.”
+
+“You are likely to run greater dangers than that if you allow yourself
+to be drawn into a theatrical circle.”
+
+“What sort of dangers?… Oh, my dear, saintly episcopal architect, what
+foundations of darkness are you building upon now, out of a little
+old-fashioned, out-of-date prejudice which you might have dug up from
+some of your studies in antiquity books? There are just as many dangers
+outside the theatrical world as in it, for the sort of woman dangers
+are attractive to; and little Sunday-school teachers have come to
+grief, while famous actresses have won through unscathed.”
+
+Dudley’s face expressed both surprise and distaste.
+
+“I wonder what you know about it anyway. I think you are talking at
+random. Certainly no dangers would come near you if you listened to my
+wishes and settled down quietly at home. If you don’t care about living
+in Bloomsbury, I will take a small house in the suburbs, and you can
+amuse yourself with the housekeeping, and tennis, and that sort of
+thing.”
+
+“And when you want to marry?”
+
+“I shall not want to marry. I am wedded to my profession.”
+
+“O Dudley!… Dudley!…” She slipped off the table where she had been
+jauntily seated, and came and stood beside him, passing her arm through
+his. “Can’t you see I’d just die of a little house in the suburbs,
+looking after the housekeeping: it’s the most dreadful and awful thing
+on the face of the earth. I’m not a bit sorry for slaves, and
+prisoners, and shipwrecked sailors, and East-end starvelings; every bit
+of sympathy I’ve got is used up for the girls who’ve got to stay in
+hundrum homes, and be nothing, and do nothing, but just finished young
+ladies. Work is the finest thing in the world. It’s just splendid to
+have something real to do, and be paid for it. Why, they can’t even go
+to prison, or be hungry, or anything except possible wives for possible
+men who may or may not happen to want them.”
+
+“Of course you are talking arrant nonsense,” Dudley replied frigidly.
+“I don’t know where in the world you get all your queer ideas. Woman’s
+sphere is most decidedly the home; you seem to—” but a small hand was
+clapped vigorously over his mouth, and eyes of feigned horror searching
+his.
+
+“Do you know, I’m half afraid you’ve lived in your musty old books so
+long, Dudley,” with mock seriousness, “that you’ve lost all count of
+time. It is about a thousand years since sane and sensible men believed
+all that drivel about women’s only sphere being the home, and since
+women were content to be mere chattels, stuck in with the rest of the
+furniture, to look after the children. Nowadays the jolly, sensible
+woman that a man likes for wife or pal, is very often a busy worker.”
+
+“Let her work busily at home, then!”
+
+“Why, you’ll want me to crochet antimacassars next, or cross-stitch a
+sampler! Just imagine the thing if I tried! It would have dreadful
+results, because I should be sure to use bad language—I couldn’t help
+it; and the article I should concoct would make people faint, or turn
+cross-eyed or colour-blind. I shan’t do nearly so much harm in the end
+as a City secretary with an actress pal.”
+
+“One thing is quite certain: you mean, as usual, to have your own way,
+and my feelings go for nothing at all.”
+
+He turned away from her, and took up his hat to go out.
+
+“Your protestations of affection, Hal, are apt to seem both insincere
+and out of place.”
+
+The tears came swiftly to her eyes, and she took a quick step towards
+him, but he had gone, and closed the door after him before she could
+speak. She watched his retreating figure, with the tears still
+lingering, and then suddenly she smiled.
+
+“Anyhow, I haven’t got to be sweet and gentle and housekeepy,” was her
+comforting reflection. “I’m going to be a real worker, earning real
+money, and have Lorraine for my pal as well. Some day Dudley will see
+it is all right, and I’m only about half as black as he supposes, and
+that I love him better than anything else at heart. In the meantime, as
+I’m likely to get a biggish dose of dignified disapproval over this
+theatre business, I’d better ask Dick to come out to tea this afternoon
+to buck me up for what lies ahead. Goodness! what a boon a jolly cousin
+is when you happen to have been mated with your great-aunt for a
+brother.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+For a few years after that particular disagreement nothing of special
+note happened. Hal got quickly through her course of shorthand and
+typewriting and became Mr. Elliott’s private secretary and general
+factotum, which last included an occasional flight into journalism as a
+reporter. Naturally, since this sometimes took her to out-of-the-way
+places, and brought her in contact with human oddities, she loved it
+beyond all things, and was ever ready for a jaunt, no matter whither it
+took her.
+
+Brother Dudley was discreetly left a little in the dark about it,
+because nothing in the world would ever have persuaded him that a girl
+of Hal’s age could run promiscuously about London unmolested. Hal knew
+better. She was perfectly well able to acquire a stony stare that
+baffled the most dauntless of impertinent intruders; and she had,
+moreover, an upright, grenadier-like carriage, and an air of
+business-like energy that were safeguards in themselves.
+
+A great deal of persuasive tact was necessary, however, to win Dudley’s
+consent to a year in America, whither Mr. Elliott had to go on
+business; but on Mrs. Elliott calling upon him herself to explain that
+she also was going, and would take care of Hal, he reluctantly
+consented.
+
+Curiously enough, it was that year in a great measure that changed the
+current of Lorraine’s life. She came to the cross-roads, and took the
+wrong turn.
+
+Perhaps Miss Walton, with her knowledge of girls, could have foretold
+it. She might have said, in that enigmatical way of hers, “If Lorraine
+comes to the cross-roads, where life offers a short cut to fame,
+instead of a long, wearisome drudgery, she will probably take it. Hal
+will score off her own bat, or not at all. Lorraine will only care
+about gaining her end.”
+
+Anyhow the cross-roads came, and Hal, the stronger, was not there. As a
+matter of fact, for some little time the two had not seen much of each
+other. Lorraine was touring in the provinces, and rarely had time to
+come to London. Hal was tied by her work, and could not spare the time
+to go to Lorraine.
+
+There was for a little while a cessation of intercourse. Neither was
+the least bit less fond, but circumstances kept them apart, and they
+could only wait until opportunity brought them together again. Both
+were too busy for lengthy correspondence, and only wrote short letters
+occasionally, just to assure each other the friendship held firm, and
+absence made no real difference.
+
+Then Hal went off to America, and while she was away Lorraine came to
+her cross-roads.
+
+It is hardly necessary to review in detail what her life had been since
+she joined the theatrical profession. It is mostly hard work and
+disillusion and disappointment for all in the beginning, and only a
+very small percentage ever win through to the forefront.
+
+But for Lorraine, on the top of all the rest, was a mercenary,
+unscrupulous, intriguing mother, who added tenfold to what must
+inevitably have been a heavy burden and strain—a mother who taxed her
+utmost powers of endurance, and brought her shame as well as endless
+worry; and yet to whom, let it be noted down now, to her everlasting
+credit, no matter in what other way she may have erred, she never
+turned a deaf ear nor treated with the smallest unkindness.
+
+It would be impossible to gauge just what Lorraine had to go through in
+her first few years on the stage. She seemed to make no headway at all,
+and at the end of the third year she felt herself as far as ever from
+getting her chance.
+
+That she was brilliantly clever and brilliantly attractive had not so
+far weighed the balance to her side. There were many others also clever
+and attractive. She felt she had practically everything except the one
+thing needed—influence.
+
+Thus her spirits were at a very low ebb. She was still touring the
+provinces, and heartily sick of all the discomfort involved. Dingy
+lodgings, hurried train journeys, much bickering and jealousy in the
+company with which she was acting, and a great deal of domestic worry
+over that handsome, extravagant mother, who had once taken her, in
+company with the so-called uncle, to the select seminary of the Misses
+Walton.
+
+How her mother managed to live and dress as if she were rich had
+puzzled Lorraine many times in those days; but when she left the
+shelter of those narrow, restricting walls, where windows were
+whitewashed so that even boys might not be seen passing by, she learnt
+many things all too quickly.
+
+She learnt something about the uncles too. One of them was at great
+pains to try and teach her, but with hideous shapes and suggestions
+trying to crowd her mind, the thought of Hal’s freshness still acted as
+a sort of protection and kept her untainted.
+
+A little later, after she had commenced to earn a salary, she found
+that directly the family purse was empty, and creditors objectionably
+insistent, she herself had to come to the rescue.
+
+There were some miserable days then. It was useless to upbraid her
+mother. She always posed as the injured one, and could not see that in
+robbing her child of a real home she was strewing her path with dangers
+as well, by placing her in an ambiguous, comfortless position, from
+which any relief seemed worth while.
+
+Then at last came the welcome news that Mrs. Vivian had procured a post
+as lady-housekeeper to a rich stockbroker in Kensington, who had also a
+large interest in a West-end theatre.
+
+Lorraine read the glowing terms in which her mother described her new
+home and employer with a deep sense of relief, seeing in the new
+venture a probable escape for herself from those relentless demands
+upon her own scanty purse. A month later came the paragraph, in a
+voluminous epistle:
+
+“Mr. Raynor says you are to make his house your home whenever you are
+free. He insists upon giving you a floor all to yourself, like a little
+flat, where you can receive your friends undisturbed, and feel you have
+a little home of your own. I am quite certain also that he will try to
+help you in your career through his interest in the Greenway Theatre.”
+
+If Lorraine wondered at all concerning this unknown man’s interest in
+her welfare she kept it to herself.
+
+A home instead of the dingy lodgings she had grown to hate, and the
+prospect of influential help, were sufficiently alluring to drown all
+other reflections.
+
+When the tour was over she went direct to Kensington, to make her home
+with her mother until her next engagement. She was already too much a
+woman of the world not to notice at once that her mother and her host’s
+relations seemed scarcely those of employee and employer, and there was
+a little passage of arms between herself and Mrs. Vivian the next
+morning.
+
+In reply to a long harangue, in which that lady set forth the
+advantages Lorraine was to gain from her mother’s perspicacity in
+obtaining such a post, she asked rather shortly:
+
+“And why in the world should Mr. Raynor do all this for me, simply
+because you are his housekeeper?”
+
+A red spot burned in Mrs. Vivian’s cheek as she replied: “He does it
+because he wants me to stay; and I have told him I cannot do so unless
+he makes it possible for me to give you a comfortable, happy home
+here.”
+
+Lorraine’s lips curled with a scorn she did not attempt to conceal, but
+she only stood silently gazing across the Park.
+
+She had already decided to make the best of her mother’s deficiencies,
+seeing she was almost the only relative she possessed, but she had a
+natural loathing of hypocrisy, and wished she would leave facts alone
+instead of attempting to gloss them over. Ever since she left school
+she had been obliged to live in lodgings, because her mother would not
+take the trouble to try and provide anything more of a home.
+
+It was a little too much, therefore, that she should now allude to her
+maternal solicitude because it happened to suit her purpose. She felt
+herself growing hard and callous and bitter under the strain of the
+early struggle to succeed, handicapped as she was; and because of one
+or two ugly experiences that came in the path of such a warfare. She
+was losing heart also, and feeling bitterly the stinging whip of
+circumstances. As she stood gazing across the Park, some girls about
+her own age rode past, returning from their morning gallop, talking and
+laughing gaily together.
+
+Lorraine found herself wondering what life would be like with her
+beauty and talent if there were no vulgarly extravagant, unprincipled
+mother in the background, no insistent need to earn money, no gnawing
+ambition for a fame she already began to feel might prove an empty joy.
+
+She had not seen Hal for a year, and she felt an ache for her. In the
+shifting, unreliable, soul-numbing atmosphere of her stage career, she
+still looked upon Hal as a City of Refuge; and when she had not seen
+her for some time she felt herself drifting towards unknown shoals and
+quicksands.
+
+And, unfortunately, Hal was away in America, with the editor to whom
+she was secretary and typist, and not very likely to be back for three
+months.
+
+No; there was nothing for it but to make the best of her mother’s
+explanation and the comfortable home at her feet.
+
+As for Mr. Raynor himself, though he seemed to Lorraine vulgarly proud
+of his self-made position, vulgarly ostentatious of his wealth, and
+vulgarly familiar with both herself and her mother, she could not
+actually lay any offence to his charge. And in any case, he undoubtedly
+could help her, if he chose, to procure at last the coveted part in a
+London theatre. With this end in view, she laid herself out to please
+him and to make the most of her opportunity.
+
+And in this way she came to those cross-roads which had to decide her
+future.
+
+Before she had been a week in the house, Frank Raynor deserted his
+housekeeper altogether, and fell in love with the housekeeper’s
+daughter. Within a fortnight he had laid all his possessions at
+Lorraine’s feet, promising her not only wealth and devotion, but the
+brilliant career she so coveted.
+
+The man was generous, but he was no saint. Give him herself, and she
+would have the world at her feet if he could bring it there. Give any
+less, and he would have no more to say to her whatsoever.
+
+It was the cross-roads.
+
+Lorrain struggled manfully for a month. She hated the idea of marrying
+a man better suited in every way to her mother. She dreaded and hated
+the thought of what had perhaps been between them; yet she was afraid
+to ask any question that might corroborate her worst fears.
+
+All that was best in her of delicate and refined sensitiveness surged
+upward, and she longed to run away to some remote island far removed
+from the harsh realities of life.
+
+Yet, how could she? Without money, without influence, without rich
+friends, what did the world at large hold for her?
+
+How much easier to go with the tide—seize her opportunity—and dare Fate
+to do her worst.
+
+At the last there was a bitter scene between mother and daughter.
+
+“If you refuse Frank Raynor now, you ruin the two of us,” was Mrs.
+Vivian’s angry indictment. “What can we expect from him any more? How
+are you ever going to get another such chance to make a hit?”
+
+“And what if it ruins my life to marry him?” Lorraine asked.
+
+“Such nonsense! The man can give you everything. What in the world more
+do you want? He is good enough looking; he could pass as a gentleman,
+and he is rich.”
+
+A sudden nauseous spasm at all the ugliness of life shook Lorraine. She
+turned on her mother swiftly, scarcely knowing what she said, and
+asked:
+
+“You are anxious enough to sell me to him. What is he to you anyway?
+What has he ever been to you?”
+
+Mrs. Vivian blanched before the suddenness of the attack, but she held
+her ground.
+
+“You absurd child, what in the world could he be to me? It is easy
+enough to see he has no eyes for any one but you.”
+
+“And before I came?”
+
+Lorraine took a step forward, and for a moment the two women faced each
+other squarely. The eyes of each were a little hard, the expressions a
+little flinty; but behind the older woman’s was a scornful,
+unscrupulous indifference to any moral aspect; behind the younger’s a
+hunted, rather pitiful hopelessness. The ugly things of life had caught
+the one in their talons and held her there for good and all, more or
+less a willing slave, the soul of the younger was still alive, still
+conscious, still capable of distinguishing the good and desiring it.
+
+The mother turned away at last with a little harsh laugh.
+
+“Before you came he was nothing to me. He never has been anything.”
+
+Without waiting for Lorraine to speak, she turned again, and added:
+
+“If you weren’t a fool, you would perceive he is treating you better
+than ninety-nine men in a hundred. He has suggested marriage. The
+others might not have done.”
+
+“Oh! I’m not a fool in that way,” came the bitter reply, “but I’ve
+wondered once or twice what your attitude would have been,
+supposing—er—he had been one of the ninety-nine!”
+
+Mrs. Vivian was saved replying by the unexpected appearance of Frank
+Raynor himself. Entering the room with a quick step, he suddenly
+stopped short and looked from one to the other. Something in their
+expressions told him what had transpired. He turned sharply on the
+mother.
+
+“You’ve been speaking to Lorraine about me. I told you I wouldn’t have
+it. I know your bullying ways, and I said she was to be left to decide
+for herself.”
+
+Lorraine saw an angry retort on her mother’s lips, and hurriedly left
+the room. She put on her hat and slipped away into the Park. What was
+she to do?… where, oh where was Hal!
+
+Within three months the short cut was taken. Lorraine was engaged to
+play a leading part at the Greenway Theatre, and she was the wife of
+Frank Raynor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+When Hal came back from America and heard about Lorraine’s marriage, it
+was a great shock to her. At first she could hardly bring herself to
+believe it at all. Nothing thoroughly convinced her until she stood in
+the pretty Kensington house and beheld Mrs. Vivian’s pronounced air of
+triumph, and Lorraine’s somewhat forced attempts at joyousness.
+
+It was one of the few occasions in her life when Lorraine was nervous.
+She did not want Hal to know the sordid facts; and she did not believe
+she would be able to hide them from her.
+
+When Hal, from a mass of somewhat jerky, contradictory information, had
+gleaned that the new leading part at the London theatre had been gained
+through the middle-aged bridegroom’s influence, her comment was
+sufficiently direct.
+
+“Oh, that’s why you did it, is it? Well, I only hope you don’t hate the
+sight of him already.”
+
+“How absurd you are, Hal!... Of course I don’t hate the sight of him.
+He’s a dear. He gives me everything in the world I want, if he possibly
+can.”
+
+“How dull. It’s much more fun getting a few things for oneself. And
+when the only thing in all the world you want is your freedom, do you
+imagine he’ll give you that?”
+
+Lorraine got up suddenly, thrusting her hands out before her, as if to
+ward off some vague fear.
+
+“Hal, you are brutal today. What is the use of talking like that
+now?... Why did you go to America?... Perhaps if you hadn’t gone—”
+
+“Give me a cigarette,” said Hal, with a little catch in her voice, “I
+want soothing. At the present moment you’re a greater strain than
+Dudley talking down at me from a pyramid of worn-out prejudices. I
+don’t know why my two Best-Belovèds should both be cast in a mould to
+weigh so heavily on my shoulders.”
+
+Sitting on the table as usual, she puffed vigorously at her cigarette,
+blowing clouds of smoke, through which Lorraine could not see that her
+eyes were dim with tears. For Hal’s unerring instinct told her that, at
+a critical moment, Lorraine had taken a wrong path.
+
+Lorraine, however, was not looking in Hal’s direction. She had moved to
+the window, and stood with her back to the room, gazing across the
+Park, hiding likewise misty, tell-tale eyes.
+
+Suddenly, as Hal continued silent, she turned to her with a swift
+movement of half-expressed protest.
+
+“Hal! you shan’t condemn me, you shan’t even judge me. Probably you
+can’t understand, because your life is so different—always has been so
+different; but at least you can try to be the same. What difference has
+it made between you and me anyhow?... What difference need it make? I
+have got my chance now, and I am going to be a brilliant success,
+instead of a struggling beginner. What does the rest matter between you
+and me?”
+
+“It doesn’t matter between you and me. But it matters to you. I feel
+I’d give my right hand if you hadn’t done it.”
+
+“How could I help doing it? Oh, I can’t explain; it’s no use. We all
+have to fight our own battles in the long run—friends or no friends.
+Only the friends worth having stick to one, even when it has been a
+nasty, unpleasant sort of battle.”
+
+That hard look, with the hopelessness behind it, was coming back into
+Lorraine’s eyes. She was too loyal to tell even Hal what her mother had
+been like the last few months before the critical moment came, and at
+the critical moment itself. She could not explain just how many
+difficulties her marriage had seemed a way out from.
+
+There had been other men who had not proposed marriage. There had been
+insistent creditors—her mother’s as well as her own. There had been
+that deep hunger for something approaching a real home, and for a sense
+of security, in a life necessarily full of insecurities.
+
+Obdurate, difficult theatre managers, powerful, jealous
+fellow-actresses, ill health, bad luck! Behind the glamour and the
+glitter of the stage, what a world of carking care, of littleness,
+meanness, jealousy, and intrigue she had found herself called upon to
+do battle with.
+
+And now, if only her husband proved amenable, proved livable with, how
+different everything would be? But in any case Hal must be there.
+Somehow nothing of all this showed in her face as she fronted the
+smoker, still blowing clouds of smoke before her eyes.
+
+“What has become of Rod?” Hal asked suddenly.
+
+Lorraine winced a little, but held her ground steadily.
+
+“Rod had to go. What could Rod and I have done with £500 a year?”
+
+“My own”—from the blunt-speaking one—“it surely seems as if you might
+have thought of that before you allowed Rod to run all over the country
+after you, and get ‘gated’, and very nearly ‘sent down’, and spend a
+year or two’s income ahead in trying to give you pleasure.”
+
+Lorraine flung herself down on the sofa with a callous air, and beat
+her foot on the ground impatiently. The parting with Rod was another
+thing she did not propose to describe to Hal. It had hurt too badly,
+for one thing.
+
+“When you moralise, Hal, you are detestable. Besides, it’s so cheap.
+Any one can sit on a table and hurl sarcasm about. I daresay in my
+place you would have married Rod, from a sense of duty or something,
+and ruined all the rest of his life. Or perhaps, after gently breaking
+the news, you’d have let him come dangling round to be ‘mothered’.
+Well, I don’t say I haven’t been a bit of a brute to him; but anyhow I
+tried to do the square thing in the end. I cut the whole affair dead
+off. I told him I would not see him nor write to him again. I’ve since
+sent two letters back unopened, and though you mightn’t think it, I was
+just eating my heart out for a sight of him. But what’s the good! He’s
+got to follow in the footsteps of whole centuries of highly
+respectable, complacent, fat old bankers. His father and mother would
+have a fit if he didn’t develop into the traditional fat old banker
+himself, and beget another of the same ilk to follow on.
+
+“I daresay with me he would have developed a little more soul, and a
+little less stomach—but what of it?” with a graceful shrug. “For the
+good of his country it is written that he shall acquire weight and
+stolidity, instead of an ideal soul, and for the benefit of posterity I
+sentenced him to speedy rotundity, and dull respectability, and the
+begetting of future bankers. He will presently marry some one named
+Alice or Annie, and invite me to the first christening in a spirit of
+Christian forgiveness.”
+
+Hal smiled more soberly than was her wont.
+
+“And what of you?”
+
+“What of me?... Oh, I don’t come into that sort of scheme. I never
+ought to have been there at all. Still, I’m glad I showed him he’d got
+something in himself beside the stale accumulations of many banker
+ancestors; if it’s only for the sake of the next little banker, who may
+want to lay claim to an individual soul.”
+
+“But it hurt, Lorraine?... don’t tell me it didn’t hurt after...
+after—”
+
+“Oh yes, it hurt,” with a low, bitter laugh; “but what of that either?
+It’s generally the woman who gets hurt; but I suppose I knew I was
+riding for a fall.”
+
+“I don’t suppose you are any more hurt than he is. You know he
+worshipped you.”
+
+“Yes; only presently it will be easy for him to get back into the old,
+orthodox groove with ‘Alice’, and persuade himself that I was only a
+youthful infatuation, whereas I— Oh, what does it matter, Hal! Come out
+of that ‘great-aunt’ mood, and let’s be jolly while we can. I’ll ring
+for coffee and liqueurs, and then we’ll make lots of ripping plans to
+see everything in England worth seeing—until I can find time to go
+abroad.”
+
+Hal sprang off her table.
+
+“Oh, very well,” she rejoined, “Let’s get rowdy and sing the song ‘Love
+may go hang.’ When I’ve got it over with Dudley, we’ll just go straight
+on, keeping a good look out for the next fence. You’d better tell me
+something about this paternal husband of yours, just to prepare me for
+our meeting. He doesn’t put his knife in his mouth, and that sort of
+thing, does he?”
+
+“No; not quite so bad. His worst offence at present, I think, is to
+call me ‘wifey’.”
+
+“Wifey!” in accents of horror. “Lorraine, how awful!”
+
+“Yes; but I’m breaking him of it by degrees: that and his fondness for
+a soft felt hat.”
+
+They sat on chatting together with apparent gayness, but Hal’s heart
+was no lighter after she had duly been presented to the paternal
+husband, as she called him, and she journeyed solemnly home on a bus,
+feeling rather as if she had been to a funeral. She tried at first to
+hide her feelings from Dudley—no difficult matter at all, since he
+usually contributed little but a slightly absent “yes” and “no” to the
+conversation, and if the conversation languished he took small notice.
+
+However, he had to be told, and Hal rarely troubled to do much beating
+about the bush, so, in order to rouse him speedily and thoroughly, just
+as he was settling down to his newspaper she hurled the news at his
+head without any preliminary preparation.
+
+“What do you think Lorraine has done now? Been and gone and married a
+man old enough to be her father!”
+
+“Married!... Lorraine Vivian married!”
+
+Dudley’s newspaper went down suddenly on to his knee.
+
+Hal had squatted on the hearthrug, tailor fashion, before the fire, and
+she gave a little swaying movement backward and forward, to signify the
+affirmative. He looked at her a moment as if to make sure she was not
+joking, and then said, with sarcastic lips:
+
+“A man old enough to be her father?... then it isn’t even Rod Burrell!”
+
+“No; it isn’t even Rod Burrell.”
+
+“Some one with more money and influence, I suppose? Well, I don’t know
+that Burrell needs any one’s condolences.”
+
+“He does, badly.”
+
+“He won’t for long. The Burrells are a sensible lot, and no sensible
+man frets over a heartless woman.”
+
+“Lorraine is not a heartless woman. She has too much heart.”
+
+“She is certainly very generous with it.”
+
+“I don’t know which is the more detestable, a sarcastic man or a
+sensible one.” Hal shut her lips tightly, and stared at the fire.
+
+“I imagine you hardly expect any sort of man to admire Miss Vivian’s
+action.”
+
+“It doesn’t matter in the least what ‘any sort of man’ thinks. I am
+only concerned with the possibility that she will weary of matrimony
+quickly and be miserable. I told you, because I wanted you to hear it
+from me instead of from a newspaper.”
+
+Dudley suddenly grew more serious, as he realised how it must in a
+measure affect Hal also.
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+“He is a stockbroker, named Frank Raynor, aged fifty.”
+
+“And of course she married him for his money?”
+
+“I suppose so. Also he partly owns the Greenway Theatre.”
+
+“Pshaw . . . it’s a mere bargain.”
+
+Hal was silent. She had rested her chin on her hands, and was now
+gazing steadily at the embers.
+
+“Of course if he is not a gentleman, you will have to leave off seeing
+so much of her.”
+
+“Not at all. She would need me all the more.”
+
+“That is quite possible,” drily; “but you owe something to yourself and
+me.”
+
+“I couldn’t owe failing a friend to any one. But he is a gentleman
+almost—a self-made one, and he doesn’t let you forget it.”
+
+“Then you’ve seen him?”
+
+“Yes, today.” Her lips suddenly twitched with irresistible humour. “He
+called me ‘Hal’ and Lorraine ‘wifey.’ We bore it bravely.”
+
+“What business had he to call you by your Christian name?”
+
+“None. I suppose he just felt like it. He also alluded to my new hat as
+a bonnet. Also he used to be an office-boy or something. He seemed
+inordinately proud of it.”
+
+“I loathe a self-made man who is always cramming it down one’s throat.
+I don’t see how you can have much in common with either of them any
+more.”
+
+Hal got up, as if she did not want to pursue the subject.
+
+“It won’t make the smallest difference to Lorraine and me,” she said.
+
+Dudley knit his forehead in vexation and perplexity, remarking:
+
+“Of course you mean to be obstinate about it.”
+
+“No,” with a little laugh; “only firm.” She came round to his chair and
+leant over the back it.
+
+“Dear old long-face, don’t look so worried. None of the dreadful things
+have happened yet that you expected to come of my friendship with
+Lorraine. The nearest approach to them was the celebrated young author
+I interviewed, who asked me to go to Paris with him for a fortnight,
+and he was a clergyman’s son who hadn’t even heard of Lorraine. Next, I
+think, was the old gentleman who offered to take me to the White City.
+I don’t seem much the worse for either encounter, do I? and it’s silly
+to meet trouble halfway.”
+
+She bent her head and kissed him on the forehead.
+
+“Dudley,” she finished mischievously, “what are you going to give
+Lorraine for a wedding-present?”
+
+“I might buy her the book, ‘How to be Happy though Married,’” he said
+dilly, “or write her a new one and call it ‘Words of Warning for
+Wifey.’”
+
+“We’ll give her something together,” Hal exclaimed triumphantly,
+knowing that, as usual, she had won the day.
+
+Then she went off to bed, feigning a light-heartedness she was far from
+feeling, and dreading, with vague misgivings, what the future might
+bring forth.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+It was a little over two years later that the crash came. There was
+first a commonplace, sordid tale of bickering and quarrelling, with
+passionate jealousy on the part of the middle-aged husband, and
+callous, maddening indifference on the part of the now successful and
+brilliant actress.
+
+To do Lorraine justice, she was not actively at fault. Her sense of
+fair play made her try sincerely to make the best of what had all along
+been an inevitable fiasco. She did not sin in deed against the man to
+whom she had sold herself, but in thought it was hardly possible for
+her to give him anything but tolerance, or to feel much beyond the
+callous indifference she purposely cultivated, to make their life
+together endurable. The things that at first only irritated her grew
+almost unbearable afterwards.
+
+Lorraine’s father had been a gentleman by birth, breeding, and nature.
+If she inherited from her mother an ambitious, calculating spirit, she
+also inherited from her father refinement, and tone, and a certain
+fineness character, that showed itself chiefly in unorthodox ways, for
+the simple reason that her life and conditions were entirely removed
+from a conventional atmosphere.
+
+As a man she might merely have lived a double life, conforming to the
+conventions when advisable, and following her own ambitions and bent in
+secret, without ever apparently stepping over the line.
+
+As a woman she could but cultivate callous indifference to a great
+deal, and satisfy her soul by “playing fair” according to her lights,
+in the path before her, but nothing could save her from a mental nausea
+of the things in her husband which belonged to his plebeian origin and
+nature, and which crossed with a shrivelling, searing touch her own
+inherent refinement and high-born spirit.
+
+The objectionable friends he brought to the house she found it easier
+to bear than the things he said about them behind their backs; neither,
+again, was his addiction to drink so trying as his mental coarseness. A
+man who had drank too much could be avoided, but the lowness of Frank
+Raynor’s mind seemed to follow and drag hers down.
+
+Yet for two years she held bravely on, cultivating a hard spirit, and
+throwing herself heart and soul into the first delicious joy of
+success. This last surprised even her friends and admirers. A moderate
+hit was quite expected, but not a triumph which placed her almost in
+the first rank, and was due not merely to her acting, but to a bigness
+of spirit and comprehension she had never before had an opporturnty to
+reveal.
+
+It was, indeed, the justification of Hal’s devotion. Hal, by her very
+nature, could not love a small-minded woman. What she so unceasingly
+loved and admired in Lorraine was a hidden something she alone had had
+the perspicacity to perceive, and could so instinctively rely upon. It
+was the something which, given once a fair opening, carried her quickly
+through the company of the lesser successes, and placed her on that
+high plane which demands soul as well as skill.
+
+Then came the dreadful climax. In a drunken, mad moment her husband
+hurled at her that he had been her mother’s lover, and proposed to
+return to his old allegiance—had, in fact, already done so.
+
+Lorraine immediately packed up her own special belongings and left his
+roof for ever.
+
+Expostulations, promises, threats, passionate assurances that he had
+not been responsible for what he said failed alike to move her. She
+knew that whether responsible or not he had spoken the truth, and that
+everything else either he or her mother could say was false.
+
+Finding her obdurate, he swore to ruin them both; but she told him she
+would sing for bread in the streets before she would go back to him;
+and he knew she meant it.
+
+Fearing his influence against her and his sworn revenge, she went to
+Italy for a year, and hid in quiet villages until his passion should
+somewhat have died, finding herself in the dreadful position, not only
+of being betrayed by her mother, but quite unable to obtain any sort of
+freedom without revealing the black stain upon her only near relation.
+
+She could not seek a divorce under the terrible circumstances, and she
+was far too proud and spirited to touch a farthing of her husband’s
+money. It was like a dreadful chapter in her life, of which she could
+only turn down the page; never, never, obliterate nor escape from.
+
+In the black days and weeks of despair which followed, she often felt
+she must have lost her reason without Hal, and even to her she could
+not tell the actual truth. Hal asked once, and then no more. Afterwards
+it was like a secret, unnamed horror between them, from which the
+curtain must not be raised.
+
+For the rest there was the usual but intenser scene of remonstrance
+between Dudley and Hal with the usual resentful and obdurate
+termination. This time Dudley even got seriously angry, unable to see
+anything but a foolish, unprincipled woman reaping a just reward of her
+own sowing; and for nearly a week his displeasure was such that he
+addressed no single word to Hal if he could help it.
+
+Hal, for once, was too wretched about everything to resent his
+attitude, and merely waited for the sun to shine again and the black,
+enveloping clouds to roll away.
+
+She saw Lorraine everyday, in the apartments whence she had fled, and
+helped her to make the necessary arrangements to cancel the short
+remainder of an engagement and get away. She even had one interview
+with the irate husband, but no one ever knew what took place, except
+that Raynor sought no repetition, and seemed afterwards to have a
+respectful awe of Hal’s name which spoke volumes.
+
+Accustomed to intimidating women with a curse and an oath, he had found
+himself unexpectedly dealing with two who could scorch him with a scorn
+and contempt far more withering than a vulgar tirade of blasphemous
+language.
+
+Finally the break was made complete. Lorraine got safely away to Italy,
+her mother retired to an English village, and Raynor departed to
+America for good.
+
+For him it was merely a case of fresh pastures for fresh money-making
+and fresh intrigues.
+
+For Mrs. Vivian only a passing exile from the gaieties and extravagance
+she loved.
+
+For Lorraine it meant a hideous memory, a hideous, overwhelming
+catastrophe, and a hideous tie from which she could not hope to free
+herself.
+
+She went away in a state of nervous prostration that was an illness,
+feeling the horror of it all in her very bones, and clinging with a
+silent hopelessness to Hal in a way that was more heart-rending than
+any hysterical outburst.
+
+Yet that Hal was there was good indeed. Hal, who, though only
+twenty-one, could look out on an ugly world with those clear eyes of
+hers, and while seeing the ugliness undisguised, see always as it were
+beside it the ultimate good, the ultimate hope, the silver lining
+behind the blackest cloud. Hal, who could criticise unerringly, with
+direct, outspoken humour,and yet scorn to judge; who had learnt, by
+some strange instinct, the precious art of holding out a friendly hand
+and generous friendship, even to those condemned of the orthodox,
+sufferers probably through their own wild and foolish actions, without
+in any way becoming besmirched herself, or losing her own inherent
+freshness and purity.
+
+It was not in the least surprising that a man as wedded to his books
+and profession as Dudley should fail to realise what was, in a measure,
+phenomenal. By the simple rule of A B C, he argued that ill necessarily
+contaminates, if the one to come in contact is of young and
+impressionable years. There might of course be exceptions, but hardly
+among those as frivolous and obstinate as Hal.
+
+He worried himself almost ill about it all, until Lorraine was safely
+out of England, adding seriously to poor Hal’s troubled mind, seeing
+she must stand by the one while longing to soothe and please the other,
+and fretting silently over his anxious expression. But once back in
+their old groove, he quickly recovered his spirits, and even tried to
+make up to Hal a little for what she had lost. Unfortunately, however,
+he hit upon an unhappy expedient.
+
+He tried to persuade her to make a friend of a certain Doris Hayward,
+instead of Lorraine.
+
+Doris’s brother had been Dudley’s great friend in the days when both
+were articled to the same profession, but a terrible accident had later
+lain him on an invalid couch for the rest of his life.
+
+When clerk of the works of one of London’s great buildings, a heavy
+crane had slipped and swung sideways, flinging him into the street
+below. He was picked up and carried into the nearest hospital,
+apparently dead, but he had presently come back, almost from the grave,
+to drag out a weary life as an incurable on an invalid sofa.
+
+Soon afterwards his father died, leaving Basil and his two sisters the
+poor pittance of £50 a year between them.
+
+Ethel, the elder, was already a Civil Service clerk at the General Post
+Office, earning £110 a year, and on these two sums they had to subsist
+as best they could.
+
+Basil earned occasional guineas for copying work, when he was well
+enough to stand the strain, and Doris remained at home with him in the
+little Holloway flat, as nurse and housekeeper.
+
+Dudley, with his usual lack of comprehension where women were
+concerned, evolved what seemed to him an admirable plan, in which Hal
+and Doris became great friends, thereby brightening poor Doris’s dull
+existence, and weaning Hal from her allegiance to the unstatisfactory
+Lorraine.
+
+His plans, however, quickly met with the discouragement and downfall
+inevitable from the beginning. At first he tried strategy, and Hal, in
+a good-tempered, careless way, merely listened, while easily avoiding
+any encounter.
+
+Then Dudley went a step too far.
+
+“I have to be out three evenings this week, so I asked Doris Hayward to
+come and keep you company, as I thought you might be dull.”
+
+“You asked Doris to come and keep _me_ company!” repeated Hal, quite
+taken aback.
+
+“Yes; why not? She is such a nice girl, and just your age. I can’t
+think why you are not greater friends.”
+
+“It’s pretty apparent,” with a little curl of her lips.
+
+“We haven’t anything in common: that’s all.”
+
+“But why haven’t you? You can’t possibly know if you never meet. She
+seems such a far more sensible friend for you than Lorraine Vivian,”
+with a shade of irritation.
+
+“Probably that is exactly why I don’t want her friendship,” with a
+light laugh.
+
+“But you might try to be reasonable just once in a way. Try to be
+friendly tomorrow evening.”
+
+Hal, with her quick, light gracefulness, crossed to him, and playfully
+gave him a little shake.
+
+“Dudley, you dear old idiot. I don’t know about being reasonable, but I
+can certainly be honest; and it’s honest I’m going to be now. I think
+it is almost a slur on Lorraine to mention a little, silly,
+dolly-faced, conceited creature like Doris in the same breath; and as
+for being friendly to her tomorrow evening, that’s impossible, because
+I shall not be here. I’m going to the Denisons, and I don’t intend to
+postpone it. You will have to write and tell her I am engaged.”
+
+Dudley’s mouth quickly assumed the rigidity which denoted he was
+greatly displeased, and his voice was frigid as he replied:
+
+“You are very injust to Doris. You scarcely know her, and yet you
+condemn her offhand: the fault you are always finding in me. As for any
+comparison between her and Miss Vivian, it is very certain she would
+not sell herself to a man, and then run away from him because things
+did not turn out as she wanted them.”
+
+Hal turned away, with a slight shrug and a humorous expression as of
+helplessness.
+
+“We won’t argue, _mon frère_, because, since you always read books
+instead of people, you are not very well up in the subject. To put it
+both candidly and vulgarly, I haven’t any use for Doris Hayward at all.
+Ethel I admire tremendously, though I don’t think she likes me; and
+Basil is a saint straight out of heaven, suffering martyrdom for no
+conceivable reason, but Doris is like a useless ornamental china
+shepherdess, which ought to be put on a high shelf where it can’t get
+itself nor any one else into trouble. I’m really dreadfully afraid if I
+had to spend a whole evening alone with her, I should drop her and
+break her to relieve my feelings.”
+
+“Well, you needn’t worry”—moving coldly away. “I have far too much
+respect for Doris to allow her to come here just to be criticised by
+you. I will explain that you are unexpectedly engaged,” and he opened a
+paper in a manner to close the conversation.
+
+Hal made a little grimace at him behind it, and retired discreetly to
+prepare for her daily sojourn in the City.
+
+It happened, however, when, a year later, Lorraine came back to take up
+her theatrical career again in England, there was some vague change in
+her that made Dudley less severe in his criticisms. Trouble had not
+hardened her, nor softened her, but it had made her a little less sure
+of herself, and a little more willing to please.
+
+Hitherto she had taken rather a pleasure in shocking Dudley, under the
+impression that it would do him good and open his mind a little. Now
+she had a greater respect for his sterling side, and could smile kindly
+at his little foibles and fads. The result was that Dudley admitted, a
+trifle grudgingly, she had changed for the better, and rather looked
+forward to the occasional evenings she spent with Hal at their
+Bloomsbury apartments.
+
+He also had to admit that success had in no wise spoilt her, that it
+probably never would. The year of absence, it was soon seen, had not
+injured her reputation in the least. She came back to the stage renewed
+and invigorated, and with still more of that depth of feeling and
+atmosphere of soul which had so enriched her personations before.
+
+She became, very speedily, without any question, one of the leading
+actressess of the day; and the veil of mystery that hung over the
+sudden termination of her short married life, if anything, enhanced her
+charm to a mystery-loving public. And all the time, as Dudley could not
+but see, she never changed to Hal.
+
+From adulation and adoration, from triumphs that might easily turn any
+head she always came quickly back to the little Bloomsbury sitting-room
+when she could, to have one of their old gay gossips and merry laughs.
+She seemed in some way to find a rest there that she could not get
+elsewhere, in the company of people who expected her to live up to a
+recognised standard of individuality.
+
+And the change in Lorraine was a change for the better in Hal too, who
+began now to tone down a little, and at the same time to strengthen and
+deepen in character.
+
+They were, in fact, a pair it was good to see and good to know. In the
+first few years after the break-up of her home Lorraine was at her
+handsomest. Her dark, thick hair had a gloss on it that in some lights
+showed like a bronze glow, and she wore it in thick coils round her
+small head, free from any exaggerated fashion, and yet with a
+distinction all its own. Her dark eyes once more showed the roguish
+lights of her schooldays, and her alluring red mouth twitched
+mischievously when she was in a gay mood.
+
+A little below the medium height, she was so perfectly built as to
+escape any appearance of shortness, and carried herself so well, she
+sometimes appeared almost tall.
+
+Considering what her life had been, she looked strangely young for her
+years, seeming to combine most alluringly the knowledge and sympathy of
+a woman of thirty-five with the freshness and capacity for enjoyment of
+twenty-five. The irrevocable tie so far had not clashed with any new
+affection; her husband remained in America and made no sign; and her
+art was all-sufficing.
+
+Hal was built on quite different lines. Tall, and slender, and well
+knit, she moved with the surging grace of the athlete, and looked out
+upon the world with a joyfulness and humorous kindliness that won her
+friends everywhere. She was not beautiful in any sense that could be
+compared with Lorraine, but she had pretty brown hair, and fine eyes,
+and a clear, warm skin that made up for other defects, and helped to
+produce a very attractive whole.
+
+Lorraine had taught her how to dress—an art of far deeper significance
+than many women trouble to realise; and wherever Hal went, if she did
+not create a sensation, at least she carried a distinction and
+pleasingness that were rarely overlooked. Her daily sojourn in the
+City, among the bread-winners, had made her large-hearted and
+generously tolerant, without hurting in any degree her own innate
+womanliness and charm.
+
+She showed in her every gesture and action how it was possible to be of
+those who must scramble for buses, and press for trams, and live daily
+in the midst of panting, struggling, working, grasping humans, without
+losing tone, or gentleness, or a radiant, fearless spritit.
+
+At the office of the newspaper where she filled the post of secretary
+and typist, she was a sort of cheerful institution to smooth worried
+faces and call up a smile amidst the irritability and frowns.
+
+Blunderers went to her with their troubles, and felt fairly secure if
+she would break the news of the blunder or mistake to the irritable and
+awe-inspiring chief. He, in his turn, would be irritable before her,
+but never with her; and it was a recognised fact among the staff that
+she was almost the only one who could make him laugh.
+
+Thus a few intervening years passed happily enough, briging Lorraine to
+her thirty-first birthday and Hal to her twenty-fifth, without any
+further upheavals to strike a discordant note across the daily round,
+except such inevitable trials as Lorraine continued to meet through her
+mother, and Hal through her devotion to a non-comprehending brother.
+Only, while they had each other and their work, such difficulties were
+not hard to cope with; and life sang a gayer, happier song to them than
+she usually sings to the mere pleasure-seekers.
+
+For work in a wide interesting sphere is a priceless boon, and the men
+who would condemn women solely to pleasure-seeking and the four walls
+of their home are showing the very acme of selfishness, in that they
+are endeavouring to keep solely and entirely for themselves one of the
+best things life has to give.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+It will be remembered, perhaps, that an occasion has already occured
+when Hal had cause to congratulate herself upon the possession of a
+cousin, named Dick, who acted as an antidote to a brother who sometimes
+resembled a great-aunt.
+
+Dick, or to give him his full name, Richard Alastair Bruce, was indeed
+her best friend and boon companion next to Lorraine. He was her
+earliest playmate, and likewise her latest. For many months together
+they had been companions in the wildest of wild escapades as children,
+at Dick’s country home; and now that they were both responsible members
+of the community, in the world’s greatest city, they were equally
+attached.
+
+If Hal was down on her luck, she telephoned Dick to come instantly to
+the rescue, and if it was humanly possible he came. If Dick wanted a
+sympathetic or gay companion, either to go out with him or to listen to
+his latest inspirations, he telephoned to Hal, and little short of an
+urgent, important engagement would delay her.
+
+At the time he becomes of any importance in this narrative he was
+established in a flat in the Cromwell Road, as one of a trio sometimes
+known as the Three Graces. The other two were Harold St. Quintin and
+Alymer Hermon.
+
+The appellation was first given to them when they were freshmen at New
+College, Oxford; partly because they were inseparable, partly because
+they were a particularly good-looking trio, and partly because they all
+three came up from Winchester with great cricket reputations. Within
+two years they were all playing for the ‘Varsity’ and one of them was
+made captain.
+
+Three years from the term of their leaving, after each had gone his own
+way for a season, they gravitated together again, and finally became
+established in the Cromwell Road flat, once more on the old
+affectionate terms.
+
+Dick Bruce was following a literary career, of a somewhat ambiguous
+nature. He wrote weird articles for weird papers, under weird
+pseudonyms, verses, under a woman’s name, for women’s papers, usually
+of the _Home Dressmaker_ type; occasional lines to advertise some
+patent medicine or soap; one or two Salvation Army hymns of a
+particularly rousing nature: and sometimes a weighty, brilliant article
+for a first-class paper, duly signed in his own name.
+
+Besides all this he visited a publisher’s office most days, where he
+was supposed to be meditating the acquirement of a partnership. Hal was
+very apt at terse, concise definitions, and she was quite up to her
+best form when she described him as “the maddest of a mad clan run
+amok.”
+
+Harold St. Quintin, or Quin, as every one called him, was idealist,
+etherealist, and dreamer. His original intention had been to enter the
+Church, but having gone down into East London to give six months to
+slum work, he had remained two years without showing any inclination to
+give it up. Sometimes he lived at the flat, and sometimes he was lost
+for a week at a time somewhere east of St. Paul’s, where one might as
+well have looked for him as for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
+
+Alymer Hermon, after a sojourn on the continent to study languages, was
+now established with a barrister, waiting, it must be confessed,
+without much concern, for his first brief.
+
+Of the three he was the most striking. Dick Bruce was only ordinarily
+good-looking, with a very white skin, a fine forehead, and an arresting
+pair of eyes—eyes that were like an index to a brain that held volumes
+of original observations and whimsicalities, and revealed only just as
+much or little as the author chose.
+
+Harold St. Quintin was small and rather delicate, with never-failing
+cheerfulness on his lips, and eyes that seemed always to have behind
+them the recollection of the pitiful scenes among which he voluntarily
+moved.
+
+Alymer Hermon was Adonis returned to earth. He stood six foot five and
+a half inches in his socks, and was as perfectly proportioned as a man
+may be; with a head and face any sculptor might have been proud to copy
+line by line for a statue of masculine beauty.
+
+When he was captain of the Oxford Eleven, people spoke of his beauty
+more than his cricket, although the latter was quite sufficiently
+striking in itself. There were others who had sweepstakes on his
+height, before the score he would make, or the men he would bowl.
+
+The ‘Varsity’ was proud of him, as they had never been proud of a
+captain before, because he upheld every tradition of manliness and
+manhood at its best. And they only liked him the better that so far his
+attitude to his own comeliness was rather that of boredom than anything
+else. Certainly it weighed as nothing in the balance against the joy of
+scoring a century and achieving a good average with his bowling.
+
+He was equally bored with the young girls who gazed at him in
+adoration, and the women who petted him, and it was a considerable
+source of worry to him that he might appear effeminate, because of his
+blue eyes and golden hair, and fresh, clear complexion, when in reality
+he was as manly as the plainest of hard-sinewed warriors, though the
+indulgence of a slightly aesthetic manner and way of speech, learnt at
+the University, increased rather than counteracted the suggestion of
+effeminacy.
+
+But, taking all things into consideration, he was singularly unspoilt
+and unassuming; and sometimes blended with an old-fashioned, paternal
+air a boyishness and power of enjoyment that could not fail to charm.
+
+The first time that Lorraine met the trio was when Hal took her to
+spend the evening at the flat one Sunday, by arrangement with her
+cousin. She herself knew all three well, having been to the flat many
+times, but it had taken some little persuasion to get Lorraine to go
+with her.
+
+“Of course they are just boys,” said grandiloquent twenty-five, “but
+they are quite amusing, and they will be proud of it all their lives if
+they can say they once had Lorraine Vivian at the flat as a guest.”
+
+“What do you call boys?” asked Lorraine, looking amused; “I thought you
+said they had all left college,”
+
+“So they have, but that’s nothing. Dick is only twenty-five, and the
+others are about twenty-four.”
+
+“A much more irritating age than mere boyhood as a rule.”
+
+“Decidedly; but they really are a little exceptional. Dick, of course,
+is quite mad—that’s what makes him interesting. Alymer Hermon is a
+giant with a great cricket reputation, and Harold St. Quintin is a sort
+of modern Francis Assisi with a sense of humour.”
+
+“The giant sounds the dullest. I hope he doesn’t want to talk cricket
+all the time, because I don’t know anything about it, except that if a
+man stands before the wicket he is out, and if he stands behind it he
+is not in.”
+
+“Oh no; he doesn’t talk cricket. He mostly talks drivel with Dick, and
+St. Quintin laughs.”
+
+“Dick sounds quite the best, in spite of his madness. A cricketer who
+talks drivel, and a future clergyman working in the East End, don’t
+suggest anything that appeals to me in the least.”
+
+Nevertheless, when Lorraine, looking very lovely, entered the small
+sitting-room of her three hosts, her second glance, in spite of
+herself, strayed back to the young giant on the hearth-rug. He was
+looking at Hal sideways, with a quizzical air; and she heard him say:
+
+“It may be new, but it’s not the very latest fashion, because it
+doesn’t stick out far enough at the back, and it doesn’t cover up
+enough of your face.”
+
+“Oh well!” said Hal jauntily, “if I had as much time as you to study
+the fashions, I daresay I should know as much about them. But I have to
+_work_ for my living,” with satirical emphasis.
+
+“What a nuisance for you,” with a delightful smile. “I only pretend to
+work for mine.”
+
+“We all know that. You sit on a stool, and look nice, and wait for a
+brief to come along and beg to be taken up.”
+
+“It’s a chair. I’m not one of the clerks. And I shouldn’t get a brief
+any quicker if I went and shouted on the housetops that I wanted one.”
+
+“Besides, you don’t want one. You know you wouldn’t know what to do
+with it if you got it. Well, how’s East London?…” and Hall crossed to
+the slum-worker, with a show of interest she evidently did not feel for
+the embryo barrister. Lorraine smiled at him, however, and he moved
+leisurely forward to take the vacant seat beside her on the sofa.
+
+“Is Hal trying to sharpen her wit at your expense?” she asked him, in a
+friendly, natural way.
+
+“Yes; but it’s a very blunt weapon at the best. People who always think
+they are the only ones to work are very tiring; don’t you think so?”
+
+“Decidedly; and I don’t suppose she does half s much as you and I in
+reality.”
+
+“Oh well, I could hardly belie myself so far as to assert that. You
+see, it takes a long time to make people understand what a good
+barrister you would be if you got the chance to prove it.”
+
+Hal could not resist a timely shot.
+
+“Personally, I shoud advise you to try and prove it without the chance.
+The chance might undo the proving, you see.”
+
+“What a rotten, mixed-up, meaningless remark!” he retorted. “Is it
+because you find I am so dull, you still have to talk to me?”
+
+“Quin is never dull, he is only depressing. Dick, do hurry up and begin
+supper. I always feel horribly hungry here, because I know Quin has
+just come away from some starving family or other, and I have to try
+and eat to forget.”
+
+Lorraine leant across to the dreamy-eyed first-class circketer,
+voluntarily giving his life to the slums.
+
+“Why do you do it?” she asked with sudden interest. “It seems, somehow,
+unnatural in a—” she hesitated, then finished a little lamely, “a man
+like you.”
+
+“Oh no, not at all,” he hastened to assure her. “It’s the most
+fascinating work in the world. It’s full of novelty and surprises for
+one thing.”
+
+She shuddered a little.
+
+“But the misery and want and starvation. The … the… utter hopelessness
+of it all.”
+
+“But it isn’t hopeless at all. Nothing is hopeless. And then, knowing
+the misery is there, and doing nothing, is far worse than seeing it and
+doing what one can.”
+
+“Oh no, because one can forget so often.”
+
+“Some can. I can’t. Therefore I can only choose to go and wrestle with
+it.”
+
+“Of course it is heroic of you, but still!—”
+
+Harold St. Quintin gave a gay laugh.
+
+“It is not a bit more heroic than your work on the stage to give people
+pleasure. I get as much satisfaction in return as you do; and that is
+the main point. Slum humanity is seething with interest, and it is by
+no means all sad, nor all discouraging. There is probably more humour
+and heroism there per square mile than anywhere else.”
+
+“And no doubt more animal life also,” put in Dick Bruce. “It’s the
+superfluous things that put me off, not the want of anything.”
+
+“It’s feeling such an ass puts me off,” added Hermon; “they’re all so
+busy and alert about one thing or another down there, they make me feel
+a mere cumberer of the earth. A woman manages a husband, and a family,
+and some sort of a home, and does the breadwinning as well. The
+children try to earn pennies in their playtime; and the men work at
+trying to get work.”
+
+“Whereas you?…” suggested Hal with a twinkle, “work at trying not to
+get work.”
+
+“Come to supper, and don’t be so personal, Hal,” said her cousin. “I
+wrote a poem on you last week, and called it ‘Why Men Die Young.’ It is
+in a rag called _The Woman’s Own Newspaper_. It is also in _The Youth’s
+Journal_, with the pronouns altered, and a different title; but I
+forget what.”
+
+“What a waste of time—writing such drivel,” Hal flung at him. “Why
+don’t you compose a masterpiece, and scale Olympus?”
+
+“Too commonplace. Lots of men have done that. Very few are positive
+geniuses at writing drivel. I claim to be in the front rank.”
+
+They sat down to a lively repast, and Lorraine found herself, instead
+of an awe-inspiring, distinguished guest, treated with a frank
+camaraderie that was both amusing and refreshing. They all made a butt
+of Hal, who was quite equal to the three of them; and when the giant
+paraphrased one of her (Lorraine’s) most tragic utterances on the stage
+into a serio-comic dissertation on a fruit salad they were eating,
+lacking in wine, she laughed as gaily as any, and felt she had known
+them for years.
+
+Then Hal insisted upon playing a game she had that moment invented,
+which consisted of each one confessing his or her greatest failing, and
+the gaiety grew.
+
+She led off by informing them that she found she always jumped eagerly
+at any excuse to avoid her morning bath. Dick Bruce followed it up with
+a confession that he found he was never satisfied with fewer than four
+“best girls”, because he liked to compare notes between them, and write
+silly verses on his observations; while Harold St. Quintin owned to an
+objectionable fancy for bull’s-eye peppermints and blowing eggs.
+
+Alymer Hermon confessed that he loved giving advice to people years
+older than himself, concerning things he knew nothing whatever about.
+
+Lorraine tried to cry off, but, hard pressed, she admitted that she
+liked the excitement of spending money she had not got, and then having
+to pawn something to satisfy her creditors. “Spending money you will
+not miss,” she finished, “is very dull beside spending money you do not
+possess.”
+
+Alymer Hermon then suggested they should tell each other of besetting
+faults, and at once informed Hal her colossal opinion of herself and
+all she did was only equalled by its entire lack of foundation.
+
+Hal hurled back at him that every inch in height after six feet
+absorbed vitality from the brain, and that, though his dense stupidity
+was most trying, the reason for it claimed their compassion.
+
+“You pride yourself beyond all reason on your stature,” she said, “and
+are too dense to perceive it is your undoing.”
+
+Lorraine leant towards him and said:
+
+“Inches give magnanimity: big men are always big-hearted; you can
+afford to forgive her, and retaliate that too much brain-power sinks
+individuality into mere machinery. I should say Hal’s besetting fault
+was rapping every one on the knuckles, as if they were the keys of a
+typewriting machine.”
+
+“And yours, my dear Lorraine, is smiling into every one’s eyes, as if
+the world held no others for you. Were I a man, and you smiled at me
+so, I would strangle you before you had time to repeat the glance on
+some one else.”
+
+“And Dick’s besetting sin,” murmured St. Quintin plaintively, “is a
+persistent fancy for other people’s ties and other people’s boots. I
+have cause to bless the benign and other people’s boots. I have cause
+to bless the benign providence who fashioned my shoulders sufficiently
+smaller than his to prevent his wearing my coats.”
+
+“And yours, Quin,” broke in Hermon, “is a fond and loathsome affection
+for pipes so seasoned that the Board of Trade ought to prohibit their
+use.”
+
+“After all,” Hal rapped out at him, “that’s not so bad as love of a
+looking-glass.”
+
+“And love of a looking-glass is no worse than love of throwing stones
+from glass houses,” he retorted.
+
+“Of course it isn’t, Hal,” broke in her cousin, “and probably if you
+had anything nice to look at in your glass—”
+
+Hal stood up.
+
+“The meeting is adjourned,” she announced solemnly, “and the honourable
+member who was just spoken has the president’s leave to absent himself
+on the occasion of the next gathering.”
+
+“Excellent,” cried Quin, while Hermon in great glee rapped the table
+with his knife handle and exclaimed, “Capital, Dick!... That drew
+her... I think you might say it took the middle stump.”
+
+“Oh, thank goodness he’s got on to cricket,” breathed Hal. “He does
+know a little about that, and may possibly talk sense for ten minutes.
+Come along, Lorraine, and don’t address Baby at present, for fear you
+distract him from his game and start him off struggling to be clever
+again. As it is Sunday night, perhaps Dick would like to read us his
+latest effusions in the way of boisterous hymns!”
+
+She led the way back to the bachelor sitting-room, and for some little
+time Dick amused them greatly with his experiences over editors and
+magazines, and then the two went off together to Lorraine’s flat.
+
+At this time she was living at the bottom of Lower Sloane Street, with
+windows looking over the river, and it was generally supposed that her
+mother lived with her.
+
+As a matter of fact, Mrs. Vivian only occupied the ground floor flat in
+company with a friend. Lorraine give her an income on condition she
+should live there, and so, in a sense, act as a sort of chaperone to
+silence the tongues ever ready to find food for scandal in the fact of
+brilliance and beauty living alone; but mother and daughter had never
+again been on terms of cordiality.
+
+So Hal was often Lorraine’s companion for several nights, coming and
+going as she fancied, always sure of a welcome. To her the flat was a
+constant delight, and in the evening she loved to sit on the verandah
+and watch the gliding river—not to sentimentalise and dream, but
+because she loved London with all her heart and soul and strength, and
+to her the river was as the city’s pulsing heart.
+
+The moist freshness of the air coming across from Battersea Park was
+only the more refreshing after Bloomsbury, and the vicinity of several
+well-known names in the world of art and letters appealed porwerfully
+to her imagination. Lorraine usually sat just inside the long French
+window, taking care of her voice, and listening contentedly to Hal’s
+chatter.
+
+They sat thus for a little while after their return from Cromwell Road,
+and it was noticeable that Lorraine was even more silent than usual.
+Hal told her something about each of their three hosts in turn, while
+showing an unmistakable preference for the slum-worker and her cousin.
+At last Lorraine interrupted her.
+
+“Why do you say so little about Mr. Hermon?... you merely told me he
+was a cricketer, which doesn’t, as a matter of fact, describe him at
+all.”
+
+Hal shrugged her shoulders.
+
+“I suppose he doesn’t interest me except in that way.”
+
+“But it is a mere side issue. If he weren’t a cricketer he would be
+just as remarkable.”
+
+“But he isn’t remarkable. He’s only exceptionally big.”
+
+“He’s one of the most remarkable men I’ve ever seen, anyway.”
+
+“Oh, nonsense, Lorraine. Besides, he is hardly a man yet. He’s only
+twenty-four.”
+
+“I can’t help that,” with a little laugh. “I’ve seen a great many men
+in my life, but I’ve never seen any one before like Alymer Hermon.”
+
+“Why in the world not? What do you mean?”
+
+“Well, to begin with, he’s the most perfect specimen of manhood I’ve
+ever beheld. He’s abnormally big without the slightest suggestion of
+being either too big or awkward. He’s simply magnificent. Most men of
+that size are just leggy and gawky: he is neither. Again, other men
+built as he, are usually rather brainless and weak, or probably made so
+much of by women that they become wrapped up in themselves, and are
+always expecting admiration. Alymer Hermon has the freshness of a
+delightful boy, with the fine face and courtly manners of a charming
+man. If you can’t see this, it’s because you don’t know men as well as
+I do.”
+
+Hal stepped over the window sill into the room.
+
+“Pooh!” she said impatiently. “What in the world has happened to you?
+He’s just a stuffed blue-and-gold Apollo.”
+
+Lorraine got up also.
+
+“He’s more than that. Some day you will see; unless... unless....”
+
+“Well, unless what?”
+
+“Oh, nothing, only a man like that can’t expect to escape being spoilt.
+A certain type of woman will inevitably mark him down for her prey, and
+ruin all his freshness.”
+
+“Then you had better take him under your wing,” Hal laughed. “It would
+be a pity for such a paragon to be lost to society. Personally, stuffed
+blue-and-gold Apollos don’t interest me in the least. Come along to
+bed. I’m dead tired,” and she dragged Lorraine away.
+
+But instead of sleeping, the actress lay silently watching a star that
+shone in at her window, and thinking a little sadly about the man
+nature had chosen to endow so bountifully. In a few weeks she would be
+thirty-two and he was twenty-four.
+
+Supposing it had been twenty-two instead of thirty-two, and out of his
+splendour he had given his heart to her dark beauty, what a tale it
+might have been—what a fairy-tale of sweet, impossible things, with a
+golden-haired prince and a dark-eyed princess.
+
+She awoke from her day-dream with a touch of impatience, apostrophising
+herself for her folly. After all, what had a beautiful, successful
+woman at her prime to do with a youth of twenty-four, who played
+foolish games at a supper-table, and was only just beginning to know
+his world? Of course he would bore her intolerably at a second
+interview, and, closing her eyes resolutely, she drove his image from
+her mind.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The second interview, however, by a mere coincidence, took place at
+Lorraine’s flat. She was walking leisurely down Sloane Street one
+afternoon, after visiting her milliner’s, when she ran into the young
+giant going in the opposite direction.
+
+“How so?...” she asked gaily, as is face lit up with a pleased smile,
+and he stopped in front of her. “Whither away at this hour? Are you
+chasing a brief?”
+
+“Much too brief,” he told her. “I had to carry some important papers to
+a certain well-known Cabinet Minister; and he did not even vouchsafe me
+a glance of his countenance. I was given an acknowledgment of them by
+the footman, as if I had been a messenger boy.”
+
+“Too bad. I think you deserve that another celebrity should give you a
+cup of tea, to redeem your opinion of the immortals. My flat is quite
+near, and I am now returning. Will you come?”
+
+“Oh, won’t I?” he said boyishly, and turned back.
+
+It was the fashionable hour in Sloane Street, when many well-dressed,
+well-known people are often seen walking, and when the road is full of
+private motors and carriages. Lorraine found herself moving still more
+slowly. She was accustomed to being gazed at herself, had in fact grown
+a little blasé of it, but the frank admiration bestowed on her giant
+amused and pleased her.
+
+Covertly she watched, as she chatted up to him, for the tell-tale
+consciousness and perhaps heightened colour. But when he was looking
+back into her face he looked straight before him, over the heads of the
+admiring eyes, and paid no smallest heed to them. Neither was he in the
+least self-conscious with her. She wondered if he even realised that
+the tête-à-tête he accepted so simply would have been a joy of heaven
+to many. Anyhow, far from resenting his seeming want of due
+appreciation, she found it made him more interesting.
+
+She spoke of Hal, and he immediately exclaimed: “Hal is a ripper, isn’t
+she? I can’t help teasing her, you know; it’s the best fun in the
+world.”
+
+“Do you usually tease your feminine friends?” she asked. “I’ve no doubt
+you have a great many.”
+
+“Oh, no, I haven’t. Men pals are far jollier.”
+
+“Still, I expect your inches bring you many fair admirers.”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders slightly, and looked a trifle bored, and she
+divined that he disliked flattery and probably the subject of his
+appearance. She adroitly turned the conversation back to Hal, and spoke
+of her until they reached the block of flats.
+
+“Is this where you live? What a ripping situation!” he exclaimed. “I
+would sooner be near the river than near Knightsbridge, even if it is
+not so classy.”
+
+He followed her into the lift, and then into her charming home, full of
+enthusiasm, and still without exhibiting a shade of self-consciousness.
+
+Lorraine found her interest growing momentarily, as he took up his
+stand on her hearth and gazed frankly around, with undisguised
+pleasure.
+
+“What a jolly nice room. It’s one of the prettiest I’ve seen. You have
+the same color-scheme as the Duchess of Medstone in her boudoir, but I
+like your furniture better.”
+
+Lorraine glanced up a little surprised.
+
+“Do you know the Duchess of Medstone?”
+
+“Well, yes”—a trifle bashfully. “You see, those sort of people ask me
+to their houses because of my cricket. Private cricket weeks are rather
+fashionable, and I get invitations as the late Oxford captain.”
+
+“And do you go to people you don’t know?”
+
+“Yes, rather, if I can raise the funds. The nuisance is the tipping.
+There’s always such a rotten lot of servants; and I’m too much afraid
+of them to give anything but gold.”
+
+The tea came in, and she saw him glance round for the chair best suited
+to his bulk.
+
+“My chairs were not designed for giants,” she told him laughingly; “you
+will have to come and sit on the settee.”
+
+He came at once, stretching his long legs out before him, with lazy
+ease, and then drawing his knees up sharply, as if in sudden
+remembrance that he was a guest and they were comparative strangers.
+Lorraine liked him, both for the moment’s forgetfulness and the sudden
+remembrance, and as she glanced again at his beautiful head and
+splendid shoulders, she was conscious of a sudden thrill of
+appreciative admiration.
+
+Hal was right in naming him Apollo. The Sun God might have been
+fashioned just so, when first he ravished the eyes of Venus.
+
+“And so the duchess took you into her boudoir?” she asked, with an
+unaccountable twinge of jealousy. “I do not know her. I’m afraid my
+friends are not so aristocratic as yours. But I believe she is
+considered very handsome.”
+
+“Hard,” he said, with an old-fashioned air. “Handsome enough, but very
+hard. I did not like her nearly so much as Lady Moir, her sister.”
+
+“Still no doubt she was very nice to you?”
+
+Lorraine rather hated herself for the question. The ways of
+aristocratic ladies, whose idle hours often supply a field of labour
+for the Evil One, were perfectly well known to her; and she wondered a
+little sharply how far he was still unspoilt. The majority of big,
+strong, full-blooded young men in his place would assuredly have sipped
+the cup of pleasure pretty deeply by now, even at his years, but with
+that fine, strong face, and the clear, frank eyes was he of these? She
+believed not, and was glad.
+
+He did not treat her question as if it implied any special favours, and
+merely replied jocularly:
+
+“Well, I suppose, since her blood is very blue and mine merely tinged,
+she was rather gracious, but of course the really ‘blue’ people
+generally are.”
+
+“Tell me who you happen to be?” Lorraine leant back against her
+cushions, with her slow, easy grace, asking the question with a
+lightness that robbed it of all pointedness or snobbery.
+
+He seemed amused, for he smiled as he answered frankly:
+
+“I happen to be Alymer Hadstock Hermon, one fo _the_ Hermons all right,
+but not the drawing-room end, so to speak; at the same time tinged with
+her family shadiness—‘blue’ of course I mean—though no doubt it applies
+in other ways as well. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or do you want
+to know more?”
+
+She loved looking at him, particularly with that humorous little smile
+on his lips, so she said:
+
+“Not half. I want to know all the rest.”
+
+“Very well. It’s quite an open book. I was born twenty-four years ago.
+I am an only child, and, as usual, the apple of my mother’s eye and the
+terror of my father’s pocket. He, my father, is not much else just now
+except a recluse. He was recently a member of parliament, a Liberal
+member, and, God knows, that’s little enough. I believe he even climbed
+in by a Chinese pigtail.
+
+“My grandfather was a Judge in the Divorce Court, which doesn’t somehow
+sound quite respectable, and my great-grandfather was a writer of law
+books, for which, personally, I think he ought to have been hanged. I
+can’t go any farther back; at any rate I don’t want to, because I’m
+certain it’s all so correct and dull there isn’t even a family
+skeleton.”
+
+“Is it the women or the men of the family that are beautiful?”
+
+“Oh, both,” with humorous eagerness. “Skeletons and ghosts we sought,
+and clamoured for, but ugliness, never.”
+
+“Well, it’s a pity you were not a woman. Looks are wasted in a man.
+Give a man a ready tongue and a taking manner, and he can usually get
+what he wants, if he’s as ugly as a frog. With you, on the other hand,
+things will come too easily. You will miss all the fun of the chase. On
+my soul I’m sorry for you.”
+
+“The briefs don’t come anyway, nor the ‘oof’: that’s all I can see to
+be sorry for.”
+
+“You don’t want them badly enough, that’s all. If you want the one,
+you’ll make love to an influential woman who can get them, and if you
+want the other, you’ll marry an heiress.”
+
+“I say, you’re giving me rather a rotten character, aren’t you?”
+
+He faced her suddenly, and a new expression dawned in his eyes, as if
+he were only just awakening to the fact that she was beautiful.
+
+“Do you really think I’m such a rotter as all that?”
+
+She glanced away, lowering her eyelids, so that her long lashes swept
+the warm olive cheeks, and with a little callous shrug answered:
+
+“Why should you be a rotter for doing what all the rest of the world
+does? Four-fifths of mankind would give anything for your chances.”
+
+“But you just said you were sorry for me?”
+
+“So I am. So I should be for the four-fifths of mankind, if they got
+all they wanted just for the asking.”
+
+He smiled with a sudden, charming whimsicality.
+
+“I don’t feel much in need of sympathy, you know. It’s a ripping old
+world, as long as you can indulge a few mild fancies, and be left
+alone.”
+
+“Mild fancies!”
+
+She turned on him suddenly.
+
+“What have you to do with mild fancies? Why, you can have the world at
+your feet with a little exertion. Haven’t you any ambition? Don’t you
+even want to plead in the greatest law court in the world as one of the
+first barristers in Europe?”
+
+“Not particularly. Why should I? It would be no end of a fag. I’d far
+rather be left alone.”
+
+“You… you… sluggard,” breaking into a laugh. “If I were Fate, I’d just
+take you by the shoulders and shake you till you woke up. Then I’d go
+on shaking to keep you awake. You shouldn’t be wasted on mere nonentity
+if I held the threads.”
+
+But his blue eyes only smiled whimsically back at her.
+
+“I’m jolly glad you haven’t a say in the matter. Why, I should have to
+give up cricket, and take to working! You’re as bad as Quin with his
+slumming, and Dick with his rotten verses.”
+
+“You don’t know yet that I haven’t a say in the matter,” she remarked
+daringly. “Have a cigarette. I’m awfully sorry I didn’t remember
+sooner.”
+
+“Indeed, you ought to be,” was the gay rejoinder. “I’ve been just dying
+for the moment when you would remember.”
+
+An electric bell rang out as they were lighting their cigarettes, and a
+moment later Hal danced into the room with shining eyes and glowing
+cheeks. A few paces from the door she stopped suddenly.
+
+“Hullo, Baby,” she said, addressing Hermon, “where have you sprung
+from?”
+
+“I found it wandering alone in Sloane Street,” Lorraine remarked, “and
+now we’ve been teaing together.”
+
+Alymer did not look any too pleased at Hal’s frank appellation, but
+former remonstrance had only been met with derision, and he knew he had
+no choice but to submit with a good grace.
+
+“I might ask the same question, Lady-Clerk,” he replied.
+
+“Don’t call me a lady-clerk—I hate the term. I’m a typist, secretary,
+bachelor-girl, city-worker, anything you like, not a lady-clerk—bah!…”
+
+“Then don’t call me Baby.”
+
+Hal’s face broke into the most attractive of smiles.
+
+“I can’t help it. Everything about you, your size, your face, your ways
+just clamour to be called ‘Baby’. Of course if you’d rather be Apollo—”
+
+“Good Lord, no: is that the only alternative?”
+
+“I’m afraid so; you needn’t go if you don’t want to,” as he prepared to
+depart. “We are not going to talk grown-up secrets.”
+
+“If I were Mr. Hermon, I’d give you one good shaking, Hal,” put
+Lorraine. “I’m sure you deserve it.”
+
+“Not a bit. Nothing could do him more good than regular interviews with
+me, to undo all the harm he has received in between from silly, idiotic
+women, who make him think he is something out of the ordinary. Isn’t
+that so, Baby? Aren’t you labouring under the delusion that you’re a
+remarkable fine specimen of humanity? And all the time, Heaven knows,
+you’ve about as much honest purpose and brains as a big over-grown
+school-boy.”
+
+“I hope you are not intending to imply he is more richly endowed with
+dishonest purpose?” said Lorraine.
+
+“Oh, I wouldn’t mind that,” Hal declared, “so long as it was energy and
+purpose of some kind.”
+
+“Even to giving you that good shaking,” he asked, coming forward a step
+menacingly.
+
+“Not in here,” in alarm; “you and I scrapping in Lorraine’s
+drawing-room would cost a hundred pounds or so in valuables. I’ll cry
+‘pax’,” as he still advanced. “Of course you are rather a fine boy
+really, I was only pulling your leg.”
+
+Hermon subsided with a laugh, and Hal proceeded to explain that she had
+come on business, having been asked by the editor of one of their small
+magazines to write up an interview with the actress for him.
+
+“I shall say I found you having a cosy tête-à-tête with a young
+barrister of many inches and little brains,” she laughed. “Come,
+Lorraine, spout away. What is your favourite _hors d’œuvre?_ Did you
+feel like a boiled owl at your first appearance? And which horse do you
+back for next year’s Derby?”
+
+She started scribbling, to the amusement of the other two, carrying on
+a desultory conversation meanwhile.
+
+“This isn’t anything to do with my department, but I like Mr. Hadley,
+and he was keen about it, and offered me three guineas, so I said I’do
+do it… Are your eyes yellow or green? For the life of me, I don’t know.
+Which would you rather I called them? … I’ve got to go to Marlboro’
+House tomorrow to get up a short and vivid account of a garden party,
+because Miss Alton, who generally does it, is down with ‘flu’. Were you
+a prodigal as a kid? no; I mean a prodigy… Fancy me at Marlboro’ House!
+Awful thought, isn’t it? How they dare?
+
+“What is your favourite pastime? Shall I put down shooting? I know you
+don’t know one end of a gun from the other, but it doesn’t matter; and
+it reads rather well—something unique about it in an actress.”
+
+“Why not put angling, and give some of my dear enemies a chance to ask
+what for?”
+
+“Or jam-making,” suggested Alymer, “and redeem the stage in the eyes of
+the British matron.”
+
+“Oh, don’t talk… how can I write? Shall I bring myself in, and dig up
+the dear old chestnut of David and Jonathan?… or shall I describe
+Dudley’s disapproval melting into undisguised worship,” she rippled
+with laughter as she scribbled on. “Oh dear, think if Dudley were to
+find it, and read it, because he hasn’t even discovered yet that he has
+ceased to disapprove.
+
+“Who’s your favourite poet? I might say Dick Bruce; he would write a
+book of poems at once. And Quin might be your hero in real life. Do you
+know where you were born? Up in the Himalayas sounds nice and airy, and
+it might as well have been there as anywhere.”
+
+“If you want anymore you must get it while I eat my dinner,” said
+Lorraine, rising. “I have to try and be at the theatre at seven just
+now. You may as well both dine with me, and you can come to my
+dressing-room afterwards if you like, Hal.”
+
+“No, thank you”; and Hal pulled a wry face. “I’ve seen quite enough of
+the wings, and the green-room, and all the rest of it. You might take
+Baby, just to show him the real thing, and put him off it once for
+all.”
+
+She turned to Hermon.
+
+“Have you ever been behind the scenes? I used to go sometimes, just for
+the fun of it, while it was a novelty; but it quite cured me of any
+possible taste of the stage. Most of the performers were so nervous
+they could hardly speak, their teeth just chattered with cold and
+fright mingled, and the gloom of it was like a vault. And then all the
+gaping, staring faces in rows, looking out of the darkness. You can’t
+think how idiotic people look seen like that. It always suggested to me
+that both stage and stalls were like children playing at being
+lunatics.”
+
+“That’s only your dreadfully prosaic, unromantic mind, Hal. You just
+like to write newspaper articles, and type letters, and smother your
+imagination under dry-and-dust facts.”
+
+“Smother my imagination,” echoed Hal, with a laugh. “Why, it would take
+the imaginations of fifty ordinary people to concoct some of the
+paragraphs we fix up during the week. My imagination is a positive
+goldmine at the office, at least it would be if they dare print all
+that I suggest.”
+
+“You should run a paper yourself,” suggested Hermon; “a few libel
+actions would made it pay like anything.”
+
+“Ah, you haven’t seen Dudley,” with a little grimace. “Dudley would
+have a fit and die before the first action had had time to reach its
+interesting stage. I’d take you home to see him now, but he happens to
+have gone up to Holloway to dinner.”
+
+“I’m dining out myself, so I must fly.” He turned to Lorraine, with a
+gay smile. “I say, may I come and dine with you some other time?”
+
+“Come to the Carlton on Sunday, will you?”
+
+Lorraine hardly knew why she made the sudden decision; she only knew
+perfectly well she would have to break another engagement to keep it,
+and that she was foolishly glad when he accepted.
+
+“It’s all right; you needn’t ask me,” volunteered Hal, as her friend
+glanced at her. “I’m going motoring with Dick, and I shall insist upon
+staying out until ten or eleven. I always try and fill my Sundays full
+of fresh air. “Where are you going tonight, Baby?” she added, with a
+charmingly impudent smile.
+
+“The Albert Hall, with Lady Selon”; and a twinkle shone in his eyes.
+
+“Goodness gracious! What in the world are you going to the Albert Hall
+for? and who is Lady Selon?”
+
+“She is Soccer Selon’s sister-in-law, and she asked me to take her to a
+concert. Is there anything else you would like to know?”
+
+“Her age?” archly.
+
+“Somewhere about thirty-five, I should imagine.”
+
+“Oh! your grandmother, or thereabouts. Well, skip along. Tell Dick to
+call for me early on Sunday.”
+
+When he had said good-bye to Lorraine and departed, Hal held up her
+hand, hanging in a limp fashion.
+
+“I wish you’d teach him to shake hands, Lorry. It feels like shaking a
+blind cord and tassel. Are you going to mother him? What an odd idea
+for you to bother with a boy! You surely don’t mean to tell me he
+interests you?”
+
+“I like to look at him. He’s such a splendid young animal. I feel—oh, I
+don’t know what I feel.”
+
+“Lots of London policemen are splendid young animals, but you don’t
+want tête-à-tête teas with them if they are.”
+
+“You absurd child! Is there any reason why I shouldn’t have tea with
+Mr. Hermon, if it amuses me?”
+
+“None specially; but if it’s just a splendid young animal to look at,
+you want, I daresay it would be safer to import a polar bear from the
+Zoo.”
+
+Lorraine felt a spot of colour burn in her cheeks, but she only laughed
+the subject aside, and alluded to it no more before they parted at the
+theatre door.
+
+Only at a late supper-party that night she was quieter than was her
+wont; and, contrary to her habit, one of the first to leave. A
+well-known rising politician, who had been paying her much attention of
+late, prepared, as usual, to escort her home. She wished he would have
+stayed behind, but had no sufficient reason for refusing his company.
+He taxed her with silence as they spun westwards, and she pleaded a
+headache, wondering a little why all he said, and looked, and did,
+somehow seemed banal and irritating tonight.
+
+He was so sure of himself, so fashionably blasé, so carelessly clever,
+so daringly frank, with all the finished air of the modern smart man,
+basking callously in the assured fact of his own brilliance and
+superiority. She knew that most women would envy her the attentions of
+such a one, and that his interest was undoubtedly a great compliment,
+as such compliments go; but tonight she found herself remembering all
+the other women who had reigned before her, all those who would
+presently succeed her, and she was conscious of an impatient disgust of
+all the shallowness and insincerety of the fashionable, successful man.
+
+“May I come in?” he asked, when they reached the flat, looking rather
+as if he were conferring a favour than soliciting one.
+
+“No; it is too late. Good-night.”
+
+“Too late!…” he laughed a little, and Lorraine felt her temper rising.
+“It is not exceptionally late, a little earlier than usual in fact. Why
+mayn’t I come in?”
+
+“Because I don’t want you,” she said coldly, and she saw him bite his
+lip in swift vexation.
+
+“I shall certainly not press you,” he retorted, and turned away.
+
+At the window of her drawing-room Lorraine lingered a few moments,
+gazin with a half-longing expression at the gleam of the lights on the
+dark flowing river. What was it that gave her that strange sense of
+heartache tonight? Why had her usual companions bored and irritated
+her? Why did Alymer Hermon’s fine, boyish, refreshing face come so
+often to her mind?
+
+She was certainly not in love with him. The mere idea was ridiculous,
+but it was equally certain that something about him had given rise to
+this vague unrest and longing. Was it perhaps that he called to her
+mind the youth she had never known, the young splendid, whole-hearted
+years, when it was so easy to believe and hope and enjoy that which
+life had never given her time for?
+
+True, the world was at her feet now, just as much as it would ever be
+at his, but with what a difference? For her, with the work and stain of
+the knowledge of much evil, and little good. For him, at present, with
+all the glorious freshness of the morning.
+
+She glanced back into the dim room, and among the shadows she saw him
+standing there again, towering up upon her hearthrug, before her
+hearth, with that youthful, frank assurance that was so attractive. Of
+a truth he was unspoilt yet, unspoilt and splendid as the dawn of the
+morning—but for how long?
+
+What would they make of him presently, the women of the world, who must
+needs worship such a man, and strew their charms before him. How was he
+to keep his freshness, when temptation hemmed him in on every side?
+
+She felt a sudden yearning as of hungry mother-love towards him. If he
+had been her son, her very own son, how she would have fought the whole
+world to help him keep his armour bright, and his colours flying high.
+
+And instead?...
+
+The wave of hungry mother-love was followed by one as of swift and
+angry protest. Who had ever cared whether she kept her armour bright
+and her colours flying high? Had not life itself mocked at her early
+aspirations, and trampled jeeringly on her untutored, unformed high
+desires? What chance had she ever had, long as she might, to keep the
+morning freshness?
+
+Well, what of it? She had sought and striven for fame, and fame had
+come; she was a poor creature if she could not look life in the face
+now, and laugh above her wounds.
+
+And in the meantime perhaps she could help him fight some of those
+other women still; the women who would drag him down for their own
+satisfaction, and care nothing for the hurt to him.
+
+Anyhow, she would try to be a good pal to him, and not a temptress. For
+once she would fight for some one else’s hand instead of her own, and
+gain what satisfaction she could in feeling herself a true friend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+About the time that the three in the Chelsea flat were leave-taking, a
+stream of women-clerks in the long passages of the General Post Office
+proclaimed that pressure of work had again meant “overtime” to these
+energetic City-workers.
+
+In consequence, there was a lack of elasticity in the many passing
+feet, and the suggestion of a tired silence in the cloak-room; for
+though the girls hastened to get away from the dreary monotony of the
+huge building, they were, many of them, too tired to depart as joyfully
+as was their wont.
+
+Yet most of them, behind the tiredness, looked out upon the world with
+clear, capable eyes, and strong, self-reliant faces, that spoke well
+for the spirit of their set. Up there in the big office-rooms, year in
+year out, these refined, well-educated women kept ledgers and accounts
+and did the general office work of the Civil Service with a precision
+and neatness and correctness equal to the work of any men, and
+invariably to the astonishment of any interested visitor who was
+permitted to inquire into the system.
+
+Yet the majority of their salaries ranged from £90 a year to £210, and
+they were obliged to pas an examination of no mean stamp to attain a
+post. Small wonder that many of them, having to help support others as
+well as keep themselves, had the delicate, listless, anaemic appearance
+of underfed women badly in need of fresh air, good food, and wholesome
+exercise.
+
+The policy of Great Britain towards her women workers is surely one of
+the greatest contradictions of our enlightened age. Even putting aside
+the vexed question of suffragism, how little has she ever done to try
+and cope with the needs of working womanhood?
+
+In some Government departments, as, for instance, the Army Clothing
+Department, it is a known fact that the women are actually sweated; and
+that in the higher branches, employing gentlewomen, they pay them the
+lowest possible wage, not because the work is ill-done, but because,
+owing to present conditions, plenty of gentlewomen are found to accept
+the offer.
+
+Many of these gentlewomen lose their health in their struggle to obtain
+good food, decent lodging, and a neat appearance on Government
+salaries, knowing full well that the moment they fall out of the ranks
+numbers will be waiting to fill their places.
+
+And in the meantime enlightened authors and politicians write articles,
+and make speeches, holding forth upon the charm and beauty of the Home
+Woman, and drawing unflattering comparisons between her and the worker.
+
+Comfortable elderly gentlemen, who have had successful careers and can
+now afford to dine unwisely every night, and keep their daughters in
+well-dressed indolence, self-satisfied, self-aggrandising,
+self-advertising young politicians, who, having obtained an attentive
+public, delight to cant about the rights of the citizen and the good of
+the Empire, clever, intuitive, charming novelists, who apparently
+possess an unaccountable vein of dense non-comprehension on some
+points—all harp upon this theme of the Home Woman, and the Home Sphere,
+and the infinite superiority, in their own lordly eyes, of the gentle,
+domesticated scion of the family hearth.
+
+As if one-fourth of the women wage-earners, gentle or otherwise, in
+England today had any choice in the matter whatever. The rapidity with
+which a vacant place in the ranks is filled and the numbers waiting for
+it is surely sufficient proof of that; to say nothing of the pitiful
+conditions under which many, gentle and otherwise, cling to their posts
+long after a merciful fate should have given them the opportunity to
+save the remnants of their shattered health amidst country breezes.
+
+It is useless to cry out to the woman that work and competition with
+men is unbecoming to her. She _must_ work, and she _must_ compete, and
+seeing this, it is surely time the British Government accepted the fact
+magnanimously, and took more definite steps to assure her welfare.
+
+If it can only be done through woman’s suffrage, then woman’s suffrage
+must surely come, because, whether British legislators care for the
+good of women or not, nature does care, and as the race moves forward
+the working woman will have to be protected.
+
+It has been seen over and over again that no band of politicians, nor
+powerful men, nor tape-bound State can long defy any advancing good for
+the needs of the whole.
+
+Whether women work or not, they are the mothers of the future; and
+because this fact is greater than the sum of all other facts brought
+forward by the narrowness and short-sightedness of men, we may safely
+believe that, since they _must_ work, nature will see to it that they
+work under the most favourable conditions, no matter what rich men have
+to go the poorer for it.
+
+Pity is that the hour is so delayed; that narrowness, and selfishness,
+and self-aggrandisement still flourish, to the eternal cost of those of
+England’s mothers who bring weaklings into the world, through the hard
+conditions of their enforced labour.
+
+The _true patriot_ of today will agitate not only for the highest
+possible efficiency in the Navy and Army; but, with no less resolve and
+sincerity, for the best possible conditions obtainable for all
+women-workers, that the Empire may not later sink suddenly to decay, in
+spite of her defences, through the impoverished, feeble, sickly
+off-spring who are all the men she has left.
+
+The _true patriot_ will accept the ever-strengthening fact, however
+unpalatable, that the development and emancipation of womanhood has
+brought women to the front as workers, _to stay_; and he will perceive
+that therefore it is incumbent upon the men to endeavour to find that
+happy mean, where they can work together to the advantage of both, and
+to the stability and greatness of a beloved country.
+
+Only now the women-workers toil bravely on, heartening each other with
+jests under conditions in which it is extremely likely men would merely
+cavil and sulk and fill the air with their complainings; dressing
+themselves daintily through personal effort in spite of meagre purses;
+throwing themselves with a splendid joyousness into their few precious
+days of freedom; banding themselves together often and often to wring
+occasional hours of gaiety from the months of toil; keeping brave eyes
+to the front and brave hearts to the task, while they wait steadfastly
+for the day when their worth shall be appreciated and their claims
+recognised.
+
+Hastening to the office in the morning, or hastening home (probably to
+cook their own dinner) at night, they read those clever, carefully
+worded articles and speeches by the men of power and weight, harping
+upon the charm and beauty and superiority of the Home Woman; and they
+laugh across to each other with a frank, rather pitying, rather
+irritated laughter, at the extraordinary dull-wittedness of some
+brilliant brains.
+
+They wonder gaily how these enlightened, clever gentlemen would like it
+if they all became sweet Home women in the workhouses, cultivating
+elegant gardens, and floating round in flowing gowns at their expense.
+
+The men call them “new women” with derision, or mannish, or unsexed;
+but those who have been among them, and known them as friends, know
+that they hold in their ranks some of the most generous-hearted,
+unselfish, big-souled women to exist in England today; and that it is
+just because of that they are able to plod cheerfully on, and laugh
+that indulgent, pitying little laugh, when an outraged man swells with
+virtuous indignation, and waxes eloquent upon their want of womanly
+attributes.
+
+Of such as the best of these was Ethel Hayward. Among the crowd now
+hurrying more or less tiredly into the open air, she might not have
+been noticed. So many had white faces, dark-circled eyes,
+shabby-genteel clothing, and just a commonplace fairness, that in the
+throng it was difficult to discover distinguishing attributes.
+
+One had to see her apart, and note the quick, urgent step, the
+independent, lofty poise of her head, and the steadfastness of the
+tired eyes, and firm, strong mouth, to feel that life had given her a
+heavy burden, which only a noble soul could have supported with
+heroism.
+
+As she left the portals of the General Post Office she hesitated a few
+seconds as to her direction. “Should she go straight back to the little
+flat in Holloway, or should she go west, and get the drawing-paper
+Basil was wanting?”
+
+Doris could easily get the drawing-paper the next day, if she chose;
+and at the flat Dudley Pritchard would have arrived for the evening.
+She surmised hastily that it was extremely probable Doris had made some
+other engagement for herself that she would be unwilling to delay, and
+that Dudley would in no wise regret her own tardy return.
+
+The last thought caused her eyes to grow a little strained, as she
+walked quickly westwards—strained with the determination to face the
+fact unflinchingly, and try to overcome the deep, insistent ache it
+caused.
+
+But the love of a lifetime is not dismissed at will, and looking a
+little pitifully backward, though she was but twenty-eight, Ethel felt
+she could not remember the time when she did not love Dudley Pritchard,
+though it had perhaps only crystallised into the great feature of her
+life at the time when, in silent, heroic endeavour, he had given of all
+he had to win his friend back to life and health.
+
+It was Dudley’s careful savings that he had paid for the great
+specialist and the big operation; Dudley’s courage and devotion that
+had nerved the stricken man to take up the awful burden of perpetual
+invalidism; Dudley’s never-failing encouragement and friendship that
+helped him still to bear the dreary months of utter weariness, in the
+little home kept together by his sister’s salary.
+
+High up in the dreary-looking block of flats in Holloway, attended
+through the day by the erratic ministrations of Doris, and at night by
+the yearning tenderness of Ethel, Basil Hayward dragged out a weary
+martyrdom, that prayed only for release. In vain Ethel murmured over
+him, that to work for him was a glory compared to what it would be to
+live without him; in the silent, tedious hours of her absence, his soul
+broke itself in hopeless, passionate protest against the decree that
+compelled him to accept his daily bread at the hands of the sister he
+would gladly have striven for day and night.
+
+It as a martyrdom across which one can but draw a curtain, and stand
+“eyes frontt”. Look this way, look that, what answer is there, what
+reason, what explanation, of the hidden martyrdoms of the work-a-day
+world, which the blank wall of heaven seems to regard with utter
+unconcern?
+
+Mankind today is less disposed than ever of yore to calmly fold the
+hands and say, “It is the will of God.” They can no longer do so
+honestly without either blaming or criticising the Divine Will that not
+merely permits, but is said to send, such martyrdoms.
+
+Better surely to accept bravely the enigma of the universe, and strive
+to lessen the suffering in our own little sphere, believing that same
+Divine Will is striving with us to mitigate the ills humanity has
+brought upon itself through blind disobedience and careless
+indifference to the laws of nature.
+
+Uncomplaining resignation may help by its example, but the resignation
+which sits with folded hands and makes no effort to amend, is only a
+form of feebleness. The strong soul accepts life silently as a field of
+battle, asking for energy, resource, courage, and that fine spirit
+which obeys the unseen general in unquestioning faith.
+
+It was only in such a spirit, through those years of pain and mystery,
+that Ethel was able to witness her passionately loved brother’s
+martyrdom, and give all the years of her youth to earn that pour salary
+from a wealthy Empire, to keep some sort of a home for the three of
+them in the little, dingy Holloway flat.
+
+For even if Doris had been capable of sustained endeavour, the
+bedridden man could not have been left alone for long, and no choice
+was left them but to eke out Ethel’s pitiful £110 salary between them.
+
+Often perhaps a passionate resentment burned in her heart concerning
+the heavy handicaps under which a woman achieves work equal to a man’s;
+but she had no time to lend herself to any open protest, and toiled on,
+silently fighting her individual daily battle the better encouraged by
+those brave women taking all the opprobrium of the warfare upon their
+own shoulders, for the sake of working womanhood as a whole.
+
+Only, of late a fresh burden had been added in the fear that Dudley was
+growing to care for her sister Doris.
+
+It was not that she grudged Doris the happiness, nor the prospect of a
+home in which she and Dudley might together take care of Basil; but she
+saw ahead the tragedy of the awakening, when Dudley learnt of the
+shallow, selfish little heart behind Doris’s charming exterior.
+
+That he, of all people, should be drawn to such an one was only the
+contradiction seen on all sides in life. Because he had that
+old-fashioned distrust of the independent, self-reliant woman, he must
+needs go to the opposite extreme, and let himself be drawn to one
+capable of little else in the world but ornamentation. Doris, she knew,
+was fitted only to be a rich man’s plaything. Dudley, she felt
+instinctively, would start off by expecting of her things she had never
+had to give, and in his dismay and disappointment might wreck both
+their lives.
+
+Yet she felt powerless to take any step that might save them from each
+other, knowing full well that Doris, bored with her life at the flat,
+had decided that even life with Dudley would be better. And even as
+Ethel hastened westwards, instead of towards home, Doris with infinite
+pains put the finishing touches to her pretty hair, and took a last
+survey of her dainty person before the well-known step should sound on
+the stone staircase outside their unpretentious little door.
+
+She had been very irritable with the invalid, because he was trying to
+get a plan copied quickly, and wanted a special arrangement of light,
+just when she was ready to go and dress after preparing the dinner; but
+when at last Dudley knocked on the door, Doris opened it to him with a
+face of such charming innocence and smiles that irritability would
+never have been imagined in the répertoire of her characteristics. A
+little helpless, a little childish, she might be, but what clever man
+does not love a clinging woman?
+
+“It was so nice of you to come,” she said. “It is such a dreary place
+to turn out to after your long day at the office.”
+
+“But I love coming,” he answered simply. “You know I do.”
+
+He looked at her with unconscious admiration, and Doris noted for the
+hundredth time that although he was not particularly tall, nor
+particularly good-looking, nor particularly anything, yet his thin,
+clean-shaven face had a clever, distinguished air, and he had
+unmistakably the cut and breeding of a gentleman. She knew that even if
+he were only moderately well off, and could not afford the dash she
+loved, he was at least good to be seen with, and a man who might one
+day make his mark. So, though she deprecated most of the qualities
+which were in reality his best points, she decided in her calculating
+little head she would seriously contemplate becoming Mrs. Dudley
+Pritchard.
+
+His greeting with the invalid was, for Dudley, a little boisterous—the
+result of a hint from Ethel. He would probably never have had time to
+see for himself that such a man as Basil Hayward would hate a pitying
+air or invalid manner, but he was sympathetic enough to respond quickly
+to a suggestion that the latest cricket or football news, gaily
+imparted, was far more pleasing to the invalid than a sympathetic
+inquiry after his health.
+
+For Basil Hayward, sufferer and martyr, was prouder of his near
+relationship to a celebrated international cricketer than he would ever
+had been of his own sublime courage had it been lauded to the skies.
+Life had left him little enough, but “give me the power still to glory
+in every manly and athletic achievement of my countrymen,” was his
+unspoken request.
+
+So they discussed the latest sporting news of the world, and then had a
+great argument on a plan of Dudley’s for a competition for a
+grand-stand and pavilion on a celebrated aviation ground, while they
+waited for Ethel.
+
+The small flat had only one sitting-room, and while they talked Doris
+flitted gracefully about, putting the finishing touches to the table.
+Afterwards she sat on a low chair under the lamp, so that the light
+fell full on her pretty hair, while she bowed her head with unwonted
+industry over a piece of sewing.
+
+Occasionally she glanced up at the two men, meeting Dudley’s eyes with
+a pretty confiding look that only added to her charm.
+
+“Ethel is so late. I wonder if we had better wait,” she said at last.
+“She told me on no account to do so.”
+
+Basil glanced at the clock a little anxiously.
+
+“It is too bad,” he murmured; “they have no right to expect so much
+overtime work. She is sure to come soon.”
+
+“Yes; but I think she would like us to begin”; and Doris rose slowly.
+“It will save time when she does come in.”
+
+It was plain Basil disapproved, but she pretended not to see it, and in
+a short time she and Dudley were seated tête-à-tête, while the invalid
+remained on his couch. They were gay from spontaneity of pleasure, and
+Hal would have been surprised at the cheeriness of her grave brother,
+had she seen how he responded to Doris’s playful mood.
+
+Then Ethel’s key sounded in the door, and it was as though a slight
+shadow fell upon them. Doris wished she had been later still; Dudley
+seemed to grow grave again, from habit, and Basil watched the door like
+a big devoted dog, with eyes of hungry love.
+
+As she entered her first glance was for him, and her nod and smile ere
+she turned to greet the visitor hid all her own weariness, and was
+reflected in a light of glad welcome on the sick man’s face.
+
+“I’m so glad you didn’t wait,” she said; “I stayed to get the
+drawing-paper.”
+
+“But why did you, dear?” he asked, with quick remonstrance. “Doris
+could easily have gone tomorrow.”
+
+“Of course I could”; and Doris skilfully threw a hurt tone in her
+voice, which Dudley was quick to detect.
+
+“I wanted to walk,” was all Ethel said, as she moved away to take off
+her hat and coat.
+
+But in spite of her efforts the gaiety did not return, and Doris grew a
+little pensive and sad.
+
+Dudley, with his surface reasoning, saw in her attitude something that
+suggested the other two were in the habit of being entirely wrapped up
+in each other, to the exclusion of the young sister.
+
+Ethel might be a remarkably clever and capable woman; he knew perfectly
+well that she was just as able with her fingers as her brain, and did
+nearly all the upholstering and dressmaking of the household in her
+evening free time; but wasn’t she just a little superior and
+self-satisfied also—just a little unkindly indifferent to the monotony
+and dullness of her young sister’s existence?
+
+Dudley found his sympathy go out more and more to those childlike eyes,
+and the pretty, clinging ways; and a sort of half-fledged resentment
+grew up against the elder sister. He could not choose but admire her,
+if it were only for her devotion to her brother, but he felt a vague
+something, in his thoughts of her, that he could not express, and
+remained grave.
+
+Ethel, watching them both covertly while she moved about helping Doris
+to clear away the dinner things, guessed at much that was passing in
+his mind, and unconsciously grew a little strained in her manner to
+him. That he should pity Doris and blame her seemed at last irony, but
+it could not be helped; and not even to win his love could she attempt
+to change her natural manner, and appear what might better please him.
+
+She even said “good-night” a little coldly, and remained beside Basil
+while Doris went out into the tiny hall with him to get his hat and
+coat.
+
+Doris seemed to Dudley a lonely little figure out there in the dim
+light, with just the suggestion of a droop about her lips and
+wistfulness in her eyes. He believed that she found herself left out in
+the cold with those other two, but was too proud to complain. He felt a
+tenderness springing up in his heart and spreading to his eyes as he
+leaned towards her with a protecting air.
+
+She was small and fragile. It made him feel big and protective; and he
+liked it. Hal was so tall and straight and slim and boyish—not in the
+least the sort of person one could really feel protective to; and he
+liked clinging women… His head bent down quite near to hers as he said
+in a low tone: “I suppose they are like lovers, those two, and you feel
+a little out of it, eh?”
+
+“Yes”—confidingly and gratefully—“and it makes me very unhappy, because
+I love to slave for Basil just as much as Ethel does. But he does not
+want me…” with a little sad air.
+
+“Oh, I think you are mistaken. It could never be that. It is only that
+they have always been so devoted, and I expect it is too lonely for you
+here. You do not get enough change. Would you care to go to the White
+City with me on Thursday evening?”
+
+“Oh, I should love it!” and there was a quick gleam in her eyes.
+
+“Very well, I will arrange it.” His hand closed over hers lingeringly.
+“Good-bye. Don’t be despondent. I will let you know where to meet me.
+We might have dinner at a restaurant first; shall we?”
+
+Again she expressed her delight, and Dudley went off with a glow of
+pleasure that was a surprise to him.
+
+But behind the closed door Doris smiled a little smile in the darkness,
+that had none of the artless innocence of the smiles reserved for him.
+
+“Ethel would just give her head to go with him,” was her first thought;
+and then, “I hope he won’t go to a cheap restaurant.”
+
+In the sitting-room Ethel was putting the last touches to the invalid’s
+comfort for the night, moving about busily. Doris leaned against the
+table, and made no attempt to help her.
+
+“Dudley wants me to go to the White City with him on Thursday evening.
+I said I would.”
+
+“Thursday is the night I have to go and see Dr. Renshaw”; and Ethel
+glanced round with a shadow of vexation on her face.
+
+“I know it is, but you will not be very late.” She paused, then added,
+“I do not get so many treats that I can afford to miss one.”
+
+“Dudley could probably have gone any other night. Did you ask him?”
+
+Ethel spoke a little quickly, and Doris looked ready with a sharp
+retort, when Basil interposed.
+
+“Thursday will be all right, chum. Doris won’t leave before six and you
+will get in by half-past seven. I shall have nearly two whole hours in
+which to do any silly thing I like, without getting scolded”; and his
+smile was very winsome.
+
+“I don’t like you to have to wait so long for your dinner. You always
+get faint. Perhaps Dr. Renshaw would see me another evening... I—”
+
+“Oh, nonsense, chum”—in the same cheery voice—“I’ll have a tin of
+sardines, and eat one every ten minutes until you come.”
+
+Ethel let the matter drop, seeing it would please him best, and Doris
+retired to their room with a slightly sulky air.
+
+“There always seems to be something to damp it if I am to have a
+treat,” was her complaint.
+
+“I don’t think you will feel damped after you start,” Ethel replied
+quietly, and they went to bed in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+When Dudley got back he found Hal waiting up for him, with an
+expression of shining eagerness on her face.
+
+“Oh, Dudley, such fun!” she began, “Lorraine has got the royal box for
+me for Thursday evening. We must have a little dinner-party. Who shall
+we take? It holds four comfortably, and two men could stand at the
+back.”
+
+“Thursday evening!” looking a little taken aback. “I am engaged.”
+
+“Engaged! Well, you must put it off. Why didn’t you tell me? I thought
+you said you had any night free except Friday.”
+
+“I only made the engagement this evening.”
+
+“Are you going to see Basil again? He won’t mind being put off.”
+
+“No. It isn’t Basil.”
+
+“What then?”
+
+Dudley turned away, threw his gloves carelessly down on a sidetable,
+and picked up some letters.
+
+“I asked Doris to go to the White City with me.”
+
+“You—you asked Doris to go to the White City?...” she repeated
+incredulously. “What in the world for?”
+
+“To see it, of course. What else should I ask her for?”
+
+“Oh, Heaven only knows! Why ask her at all? I should certainly upset
+her into the canal from sheer irritation if she came with me.”
+
+“Such nonsense.” He knit his forehead into a decided frown. “You are so
+unfair to Doris. You used to complain that I was unfair to Lorraine. I
+was never as unfair as you are now. You don’t really know Doris at all;
+and she has never done anything to hurt you.”
+
+“It doesn’t follow that she wouldn’t if she had the chance. You’re so
+awfully dense about women, Dudley. Why didn’t you invite Ethel instead?
+She is worth a hundred Dorises. Then we could have taken her to the
+theatre.”
+
+His voice and manner grew very cold.
+
+“I don’t agree with you, but it is not a subject I care to discuss. Is
+there any reason why Doris should not be invited to the theatre?”
+
+“None whatever, except that I don’t propose to ask her.”
+
+They faced each other a moment almost angrily, except that whereas
+Dudley was distinctly vexed, Hal was a little scornful, and
+half-laughing.
+
+“Then I cannot come either, and”—he paused a moment, to add with
+decision—“I object to your going unchaperoned.”
+
+“Do you mean that you wish me to give up the box?”
+
+“You know what I mean.”
+
+Hal was thoughtful a moment, and then remarked with sudden glee:
+
+“I know what I’ll do. I’ll take the Three Graces, and persuade Quin’s
+aunt to come as chaperone. Then we’ll all have supper with Lorraine
+afterwards. You shall have a nice, quiet, interesting evening with
+Doris, and I’ll get two stalls for you for another night.”
+
+She moved about, gathering up her things.
+
+“You don’t know Quin’s aunt, Lady Bounce, do you? She’s the dearest old
+soul, and she loves a theatre. Night-night, old boy; don’t keep Doris
+too long near the canal, in case you are taken with my inclination”;
+and she went gaily off, humming a popular air.
+
+Dudley read through his letters without grasping any of their contents.
+For the first time Hal’s attitude to Doris seriously worried him, and
+he felt vaguely there was trouble ahead.
+
+But when Thursday came, and they were together, she again had the same
+pleasing effect upon his senses, and he let himself be persuaded that
+if Hal grew to know her better, she could not choose but grow fond of
+her.
+
+In the meantime a group in the royal box at the Greenway Theatre was
+causing no small interest to a crowded house.
+
+There was Hal, with her smart, well-groomed air, gleaming white neck
+and arms, and her white, even teeth that looked so attractive even in
+the distance when she smiled.
+
+Dick Bruce, spruce and scholarly, hugely pleased with himself, because
+he had an article in _The National Review_, on the strength of the
+colonies in war time; and some lines entitled “Baby’s Boredom” in
+_Fireside Chat_, concerning which he had already announced his
+intention of standing the champagne for their supper with the cheque.
+
+Of the other two occupants it would be difficult to say which attracted
+the most attention. Alymer Hermon, with his immense stature and
+splendid head, or Quin’s aunt, Lady Bounce, who presented so striking a
+resemblance to another well-known little old lady sometimes seen at the
+theatre, that friends of the last-mentioned were utterly puzzled.
+
+Surely only one little lady in London wore that early Victorian dress,
+with the ringlets and “grande dame” air, and sat with such genuine
+delight and enjoyment through a play? And yet why did she not look out
+for her numerous friends, down there in the stalls, and recognise them?
+
+And who in the world was she with? If that were indeed Lady Phyllis
+Fenton—and it seemed incredible it should not be—who was the splendid
+young giant, and who the white-faced girl with the brilliant smile?
+
+And all the time, absorbed in the play and her companions, the little
+old lady smiled and talked, calmly indifferent to the many eyes below
+waiting for the expected bow of recognition.
+
+Quin, apparently, had not been willing to desert his slummers for a gay
+West-end theatre; so Hal was only escorted by two Graces instead of
+three, but the light in her eyes, for any one near enough to see,
+suggested she was enjoying herself to the utmost in spite of it.
+
+Then came the final sensation, of the little old lady in her strange
+costume and ringlets, passing through the vestibule, on the arm of the
+young giant, followed by the sleek-looking, well-groomed pair of
+cousins, who chatted to each other with an air of the utmost unconcern
+towards the curious glances now levelled at them upon all sides.
+
+“It _must_ be Lady Phyllis Fenton,” said some. “It _can’t_ be,” said
+others. “Then who the devil is it?” asked the men.
+
+And still the little group passed on, smiling and unconcerned, though a
+red spot burned in the giant’s smooth cheeks, and he carefully avoided
+any possibility of meeting Hal’s gleaming eyes.
+
+A roomy electric brougham was awaiting them, and then the watchers said
+it glided away: “Surely that is Lady Phyllis’s car and liveries?”
+
+But what they would have made of the scene inside the car it is
+difficult to say, for the dear little old lady suddenly collapsed
+backwards on her seat, with a howl of laughter, and shot into the air a
+pair of trousered legs.
+
+“Oh my conscience!” gasped Quin, amid choking laughter. “It will be the
+sensation of the season; and when Aunt Phyllis gets to hear about it
+she’ll first have a fit with wrath and then laugh until she’s ill.”
+
+“I’d no idea you were such an actor, Quin,” Hal exclaimed admiringly
+when she could speak; “you ought be holding crowded houses enthralled,
+instead of slumming.”
+
+“Heaven preserve me. Theatres are mostly mummies looking at mummies.
+Down east I get in touch with flesh and blood—the real thing; and I
+prefer it. But I wouldn’t have missed tonight for something. Oh,
+lord!... just think of the people who know Aunt Phyllis that I must
+have cut; and all the fuss there will be when aunt is admonished for
+supping at the Savoy with an actress! We aren’t half through the fun
+yet.”
+
+With which they all went off into fresh peals of laughter, at various
+reminiscences, and were bordering upon a condition of imbecility when
+Lorraine at last joined them with the latest news.
+
+“It’s positively immense,” she said. “The manager told me Lady Phyllis
+Fenton had come with Miss Pritchard, and tomorrow every paper will
+announce it, and the mystery will grow. I ’phoned for a private room at
+the Savoy, to keep the puzzle up. She must only be seen passing through
+on Mr. Hermon’s arm. How splendid they must look. I almost wish I
+wasn’t in the secret.”
+
+“Oh, they do!” Hal cried. “Alymer ought to have had knee breeches and
+silk stockings, and they would look just perfect. I have to talk fast
+to Dick, or I should give it all away in my face.”
+
+“You’ll have to settle with your aunt,” Lorraine laughed to Quin. “I
+hope she won’t cut you off with a shilling.”
+
+“She will be furiously angry and terrifically interested,” he said. “I
+expect I shall have to take you all to dinner to show her what the
+party looked like. Of course, Bonne, her maid, will give it away,
+because I borrowed the garments from her, and said they were for a play
+I was getting up in the East End.”
+
+“You’ll have a bad half-hour with Dudley,” Dick remarked to Hal, with
+enjoyment. “He is sure to hear of it somewhere.”
+
+“Quite sure,” resignedly; “but if it were a bad two hours it would
+still have been worth it. It reminds me of the old days at school,
+Lorraine, when we used to get into scrapes on purpose, if the fun made
+it worth while.”
+
+There was no gayer supper party in the Savoy that night, and the
+champagne paid for with the proceeds of “Baby’s Boredom” proved none
+the less vivifying for the insipidity of its source. Dick insisted upon
+reciting his doggerel, and Quin was not only much toasted as “Lady
+Bounce”, but carried kicking round the room by the giant, because in a
+moment of forgetfulness he used a swear-word, which they all insisted
+was a reflecton upon the conversation of his illustrious aunt.
+
+Lorraine, in most amusing form herself, laughed until she was tired
+out, and wondered why she was not bored. She asked the question of
+Alymer Hermon, who was privileged to see her home, while Dick returned
+with Hal, and Quin beat a hasty retreat to get rid of his disguise.
+
+“After all, you are only boys,” she said, with a little smile, “and
+I’m... well, I’m Lorraine Vivian.”
+
+The giant gazed thoughtfully out of the brougham window a moment, and
+from her corner Lorraine looked long, and a little sadly, at the finely
+modelled head and profile.
+
+“Perhaps,” he said at length, “a great many people you meet make a
+special effort to please you, and try to make an impression on you. We
+being all so young, and just nobodies, realise the uselessness of
+wasting our efforts, and are merely natural.”
+
+She smiled in the shadow, and glanced away from him with the sadness
+deepening.
+
+“I feel tonight I should like to be one of you—so young and just
+nobody. It would be a pleasant change.”
+
+“I don’t think you would like it at all.”
+
+He looked at her with a slightly puzzled air.
+
+“Only the other day you were speaking to me of achievement and
+ambition. You seemed to care so much. You must be glad.”
+
+“Oh yes, yes,” wearily; “but it isn’t enough by itself. There is
+something I have missed, and tonight I feel that it might outweight all
+the rest—something to do with being young, and careless, and fresh, and
+just nobody.”
+
+Still looking at her with slightly puzzled, very kindly eyes, he
+answered simply, “I’m so sorry.”
+
+She seemed to shrink away suddenly into her corner. The very simplicity
+of his sympathy, and the quiet, natural friendliness in his face,
+stirred some strange chord in her heart with a swift, unaccountable
+ache. He looked so big and strong and splendid there in the shadow,
+with his freshness and his charm; and she felt very brain-fagged and
+world-weary; and without in the least knowing why, or what led up to
+the desire, she wanted to feel his arms about her, and his freshness
+soothing her spirit.
+
+And instead he was not even attempting to make love to her, not even
+flirting with her. Would any other man she knew have ridden beside her
+thus after the gentleness she had shown? Was that perhaps the very
+secret of his attraction? Or was it a physical allurement—the
+irresistible charm of bigness and strength, independent of anything
+else, drawing with its time-old sway?
+
+She had no time to probe further, as the brougham stopped at her door.
+He handed her out with the deference so often met with in big men,
+remarking with an old-fashioned air that suited him to perfection:
+
+“I’m afraid we have all tired you very much. It was good of you to come
+with us. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”
+
+“Oh, indeed no; you refreshed me. Good-night. Stevens will run you
+home. Don’t forget Sunday”, and she moved away.
+
+“It must be his bigness,” was her last thought as her head touched the
+pillow. “When I am used to it, no doubt the novelty will pass, and I
+shall find him merely boyish, and be rather bored.”
+
+“I wonder if it is her dainty smallness,” Dudley was musing, away in
+his Bloomsbury lodging, feeling still, with a pleasant thrill, the
+touch of Doris’s small hand on his arm, and seeing again the upward,
+confiding expression in her wide blue eyes. “Odd that Hal should be so
+far astray in her judgment, when she is usually so clever; but if she
+knew her better she would change her mind.”
+
+As for Hal herself, she hastily tumbled into bed, still chuckling in
+huge enjoyment over her evening.
+
+“Those boys are just dears,” was her thought, “and I wouldn’t have
+missed Lady Bounce for the world. What a good thing Dudley was taken
+with paternal affection for that little fool Doris, and I had to have a
+chaperone. Heigh-ho! what a scene there will be if he hears about it;
+but what’s the odds so long as you’re happy? And oh dear! what will
+Lady Phyllis Fenton say when she finds out”; and once more the even
+teeth flashed an irresistible smile into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+It was force of habit chiefly that caused Lorraine, as a rule, to sleep
+long and late on Sunday mornings; and it was greatly to her advantage
+that for so many months, and even years, no mental anxiety had robbed
+her of a splendid capacity to rest. She seemed to have a faculty for
+limiting her worrying hours to the daylight, and being able to lay them
+aside, like her correspondence, at night.
+
+Yet on the following Sunday morning she found herself early awake, with
+a brain only too ready to begin probing restlessly, and having little
+of the calm friendliness she intended it should have towards her guest
+of the evening.
+
+To add to her unrest, her mother paid her an early visit, of a sort
+that had been growing too frequent of late. It was not enough that
+Lorraine paid her rent, and gave her a handsome allowance; when there
+chanced to be no one else to pay her debts, these came upon Lorraine’s
+shoulders also.
+
+T-day it was a long, rambling tale of a hard-hearted dressmaker who,
+having had a new frock back for alteration, had taken upon herself to
+return the skirt, without the bodice, with an intimation that she was
+retaining the delayed portion until her long account was settled. Hence
+Mrs. Vivian found herself with what she called a most important
+engagement, without the equally important new frock to go in.
+
+Lorraine lay under the bedclothes, with only her head showing, and
+watched her a little coldly, as she moved restlessly about the room
+airing her woes. She had promised Madame Luce, over and over again, to
+settle in a week or two; and who would have believed the odious woman
+would serve her such a trick?
+
+Never again, if she had to go naked, would she order a garment from her
+of any description whatever. And the friends she had sent to her as
+customers! Why, half the woman’s trade was owing to her introduction.
+
+“Perhaps the friends don’t pay their bills,” Lorraine suggested in a
+tired voice.
+
+Mrs. Vivian drew herself up a little haughtily.
+
+“I do not think there is any occasion to cast reflections on my
+friends, even if you do not choose to be sociable to them,” which
+remark was intended as a dignified hit at Lorraine’s invincible
+determination to maintain friendly relations with her mother, without
+having anything whatever to do with her mother’s friends.
+
+As many previous hits, it fell quite harmlessly; it was doubtful if
+Lorraine even heard it, half hidden there in the bedclothes with her
+tired eyes.
+
+“I suppose it isn’t any use reminding you that your personal
+expenditure exceeds mine?” she hinted, “and that you have already far
+overstepped the allowance we stipulated?”
+
+“You do not have time to go about as much as I do, and it makes a great
+difference not having hosts of friends.”
+
+“You don’t seem to get much pleasure out of them,” Lorraine could not
+resist saying, knowing as she did how much of her salary went into the
+pockets of these so-called friends, in order to buy their adherence.
+
+“Do I get much pleasure out of anything?” irritably. “My only child is
+one of the first actresses in London, and what is it to me? Do I have
+the pleasure of going about with her? or living with her? or taking any
+part in her success?”
+
+“I suppose it isn’t such a small thing to live by her. If I were not
+successful, we could certainly not live here. It might have been
+Islington and omnibuses,” and she smiled.
+
+“As if that were all. Probably, as real companions we might have been
+even happier in Islington.”
+
+Lorraine stiffened. “Companions!… Ah, I, with whom else ever dancing
+attendance, and changing in identity every few months?”
+
+But she made no comment, for the days of her hot-headed, deep-hearted
+judging were over; and from behind inscrutable eyes she looked upon the
+things that one sees without seeming to see them, and accepted facts
+that hurt her very soul, with a callous, cynical air that defied the
+keenest shafts of probing.
+
+It was her armour in an envious, merciless world, that would have
+rejoiced before her eyes if it could have driven in a barbed arrow even
+through her mother.
+
+More than once a jealous enemy had tried and failed, routed utterly by
+Lorraine’s cynical, cool treatment of a fact that she knew no
+persuasion nor arguing could have helped her to refute. She did not
+even weep about it now in secret.
+
+It was as though she had shed all the tears she had to shed during that
+year of utter revulsion spent in the Italian Riviera, companied by the
+passionless solitudes of snowtopped mountains. Something of a great
+patience and a great gentleness had come to her then, helping her to
+hide the loathing she could not crush, and place the fact of motherhood
+first of all.
+
+As her mother, she had taken Mrs. Vivian back into her heart, and given
+her generously of what worldly possessions she had. And she had done it
+with a wondrous quiet and absence of all ostentation either outwardly
+or inwardly. It had never occured to Lorraine that, whether it was a
+duty or not, after what had passed it was certainly a fine act upon her
+part.
+
+She had not questioned about it at all. To her mother’s apologetic gush
+she had merely turned calm eyes and a strong face.
+
+“It isn’t worth while to remember the past at all,” she had said; “we
+will just begin again on rather different lines. I’ll always let you
+have as much money as I can spare.”
+
+Mrs. Vivian had been a little taken aback by the new Lorraine who
+returned from Italy; and not a little afraid before the calm,
+inscrutable eyes; so that she had secretly rejoiced at the arrangement
+which gave her a separate establishment of her own; but none the less,
+in bursts of righteous indignation supposed to emanate from her
+outraged feelings as a mother, she usually chose to make it her pet
+grievance.
+
+And still Lorraine only smiled the tired smile, and glanced carelessly
+aside with the inscrutable eyes until the tirade was over, the coveted
+cheque made out, and her own little sanctum once again in peaceful
+possession.
+
+Only just occasionally, if the interview had been specially trying, she
+might have been seen afterwards to glance whimsically across to the
+picture, recently enlarged from an old photograph, of a fine-looking
+man in full hunting-rig standing beside a favourite hunter.
+
+“Poor old dad,” she murmured once; “I don’t wonder you couldn’t keep up
+the old place. I don’t know how you got along at all without my
+salary.”
+
+Once when she was feeling the drag of it all a little keenly she told
+the man in the picture: “Mother is splendidly handsome, and I daresay I
+owe her a good deal; but thank God you were there with your fine old
+name and family to give me the things that matter most. It sometimes
+seems as if we had got each other still, dad, and, for the rest, some
+are frail in one way and some another, and fretting doesn’t help any
+one.” The fine eyes had grown more whimsically wistful looking into the
+face of the huntsman as she finished: “Anyhow, the last favourite is
+second cousin to a duke, and she pointed out to me, he might have been
+only a butcher.”
+
+How much Hal knew of her mother’s life Lorraine had never been able to
+gauge, but she had reason to think she knew something and was sporting
+enough to pretend otherwise. If so, she blessed her for it, feeling
+that by that generous non-acknowledgment she rendered a service both to
+her and her dead father.
+
+Yet it seemed strange that any one so young and fresh as Hal should be
+able to act thus, instead of suffering a violent repulsion. Was it the
+depth of her splendid friendship; or was it a naturally adaptable,
+common-sense nature; or was it non-comprehension?
+
+As time passed and she grew to know Hal yet better, she felt
+instinctively it was the first of these, coupled with that true
+sportsman-spirit which was one of her strongest attributes.
+
+Lorraine was not the only one who felt that whether Hal had any
+religion or not, or any faith, through good and ill, by easy paths and
+difficult, one might be absolutely sure that she would “play the game.”
+It made her feel herself richer with her one friend than with her
+mother’s admitted hosts, and though she seemed to hesitate and reason
+on that Sunday morning, both knew the cheque would finally be written,
+and the coveted garment rescued in time for the important lunch.
+
+Only, afterwards, a shadow seemed to linger today that heretofore would
+have vanished with the departing figure. The sunshine crept through the
+drawn curtains, lying like a shaft of hope across the gloom, but it
+brought no answering gleam into the beautiful eyes, with their tired,
+far-off gaze.
+
+It was all very well for Hal to be a main feature in her life, blessing
+it with her friendship, while she turned kindly, unseeing eyes away
+from the corners where the murky shadows lay: Hal, who knew about the
+mad, discreditable marriage and its violent termination, and probably
+also of her mother’s insatiable thirst for admiration and excitement at
+any cost.
+
+There was something about Hal in herself that was as a shining armour,
+against which unkind barbs fell harmlessly, and enabled her to go on
+her serene and joyful way in blissful non-attention.
+
+But could it be the same with this treasured only son, who was
+doubtless destined for a high place in the world by doting parents, and
+other proud bearers of the same old name? Of course he might sup and
+trifle with certain denizens of the theatrical world galore; it would
+only be part of his education, and a thing to wink at, but she already
+doubted whether such a slight companionship would have any attraction.
+
+In spite of his youthfulness, there was something in him that would
+naturally and quickly respond to the fine shades in herself, and grow
+into a friendship that had no part with the casual, gay
+acquaintanceships of the theatre and the world.
+
+In a sense he was like Hal, and she knew that just as she attracted
+Hal’s devotion in spite of all disparity of years and circumstances,
+so, if she chose, she could make this young giant more or less her
+slave.
+
+But was it worht it?
+
+What did she, on her high pedestal, want with his young admiration?
+What did she want with a companion so undeveloped that she herself must
+awaken his strongest forces?
+
+Through the gloom, unheeding the shaft of sunlight, she saw him again,
+towering up there on her hearth, with his young splendour, so
+extraordinarily unspoilt as yet; and she knew that, reasonable or
+unreasonable, she was attracted far beyond her wont.
+
+And then she thought of his easy-going temperament, his lack of
+ambition, his half-sleepy attitude towards life.
+
+What if the wheels ran so smoothly for him that the latent forces were
+never aroused, and little achieved of all that might be?
+
+If love came at his asking, and a sufficiency of success to satisfy an
+easy-going nature, what would there ever be to stir depths which she
+truly believed were worth stiring? Was it so small a thing to help a
+fine soul forward to its best attainment?... was such an aim not worth
+some going aside for both?
+
+She felt there were things she could teach him, which without her he
+might entirely miss; and if without her he were the better according to
+a conventional standard, he might yet be far the poorer in the big,
+deep things of life.
+
+Well, no doubt circumstances would end by suiting themselves, with or
+without her agency. In the meantime why worry, in a world that it would
+seem worked out its own ends, sublimely indifferent to the individual?
+
+They were going to dine together tonight anyhow; their first
+tête-à-tête dinner and evening: time enough to probe and worry when she
+was more sure a mutual attraction existed; wiser at present to seek a
+counter attraction for her own sake, that she might not uselessly build
+a castle without foundations.
+
+Prompt as ever, she reached out for the receiver beside her bed and
+rang up the Albany to know if Lord Denton were awake yet.
+
+“I’m not awake,” came back a sleepy answer. “I am asleep, and dreaming
+of Lorraine Vivian. If my man wakes me now, I shall curse him solidly
+for half an hour.”
+
+“Well, will you dream you are going to take her for a spin into the
+country shortly? I happen to know she is fainting for the longing to
+breathe country air.”
+
+“In my dream I am already waiting at her door, with the Yellow Peril
+spluttering its heart out with delight, and eagerness to be off. I have
+even dreamt she managed to put a motor bonnet on in half-an-hour—is it
+conceivable—or should it be half a day?”
+
+“No, your dream is right. Be outside the door in half an hour, and you
+will see.”
+
+An hour later they were spinning out into Surrey at an alarming pace,
+both silently revelling in the freshness and motion and the fact that
+they were too old friends to need to trouble about conversation. When
+they dived into the lanes he slowed down, remarking:
+
+“I suppose we mustn’t risk scrunching any one up.”
+
+Lorraine only smiled, remaining silent a little longer, and then she
+suddenly asked him:
+
+“When you feel yourself inclined to fall in love foolishly what do you
+do?”
+
+“Well… as a rule…” he began slowly and humorously, “I either cut and
+run, or I hurry to see so much of her that I am bound to get bored.”
+
+“The first plan sounds the safest, but would often be the most
+difficult of execution. Supposing the second miscarries and you don’t
+get bored?”
+
+“Well, then I think—usually—there is an awful moment when I have to
+tell her I can’t afford both a motor and a wife; and to be motorless
+would kill me.”
+
+A sudden little twitching at the corners made Lorraine’s mouth
+dangerously fascinating.
+
+“Evidently you have never fallen in love with me,” she said, “for you
+have not been driven to either way of escape.”
+
+He looked into her face with an answering humour, and a twinkle in his
+eyes as alluring as her smilling lips.
+
+“Because when I fell in love with you I did it sensibly, and not
+foolishly,” was his answer; “instinct told me I couldn’t have you for
+my wife however much I wished it, so I said myself: ‘Flip, old boy,
+she’ll make a thundering good pal, you close with it,’ and I did.”
+
+She made no comment, and he went on more seriously:
+
+“You see, even if you became marriageable and I cut out the motor, you
+wouldn’t be attracted to an ordinary sort of cove like me. I suit you
+down to the ground as a pal, but it wouldn’t go any farther.”
+
+“I wonder why you think that?”
+
+“I don’t exactly _think_ it—thinking is too much bother—but it’s just
+there, like a commonplace fact. You are all temperament, and
+high-strung nerves, and soul, and enthusiasm, and that sort of thing,
+which makes you a great actress. I’m just a two-legged, superior sort
+of animal, who hasn’t much brain, but knows what he likes, and usually
+does it without wasting time on pros and cons. Consequently, I’m just
+as likely to end in prison as anywhere else, and take it without much
+concern as all in the day’s work. You are more likely to end in a
+nunnery, as the most devout of all the nuns.”
+
+“What an odd idea! Why a nunnery?”
+
+“Oh, because it’s an extreme of one sort or another, and you are made
+for extremes. You’ll perhaps be very wicked first”—he smiled
+delightfully—“after which, of course, you’d have to be very good. It’s
+the way you’re made. I’m cut out on quite a different plan. I can’t be
+‘very’ anything, unless it’s very drunk after the Oxford and Cambridge
+at Lord’s.”
+
+“Do you think I could be very wicked?” She asked the question with a
+thoughtfulness that amused him greatly, and he answered at once:
+
+“I haven’t a doubt of it. You are probably plotting the particular form
+of wickedness at this very moment.”
+
+She laughed, and he went on in the same serio-comic mood:
+
+“I quite envy you. It must be very thrilling to think to oneself, ‘I’ve
+dared to be desperately wicked.’ You cease to be a nonentity at once
+and become a force. You get right to hand-grips with the big elemental
+things. Of course that is interesting, but it usually means a
+confounded lot of bother.”
+
+“You are as bad as Hal Pritchard. She announced the other day she would
+rather have a dishonest purpose than no purpose at all.”
+
+“It’s the same idea, only Miss Pritchard lives up to her creed by being
+full of energy and purpose; whereas I can’t be anything but a mediocre
+waster. I’ve neither the pluck to be wicked, not the energy to be good,
+nor enough purpose to regret it. I believe I’m best described as an
+aristocratic ‘stiff’, a ‘stiff’ being a person who spends his life
+trying to avoid having to do things.
+
+“I fill a niche all the same,” he finished, “because I make such an
+excellent foil for the other chaps, who like to pride themselves on
+their superiority and hard work. It’s nice for them to be able to say
+contemptuously, ‘Look at Denton,’ and it’s nice for me to be able to
+feel I’m of some use, without the bother of making an effort.”
+
+“You are certainly quite incorrigible as an idler, if that can be
+called a purpose, and, Flip, don’t change; I love you for it; you are
+one of the most restful things I have ever known.”
+
+He glanced into her face with a keenness that somewhat belied his
+professed incapacity to be in earnest, and remarked with seeming
+lightness:
+
+“Feeling a bit down on your luck, eh? Are you thinking of falling in
+love foolishly?”
+
+“I’m thinking of trying to guard against doing so.”
+
+“You ought not to find it difficult. Crowd him out with other
+admirers.”
+
+“It seems as if he were going to do the crowding out.”
+
+“Why, is he so big?” jocularly.
+
+“There’s six foot five-and-a-half of him.”
+
+“Whew! And thin as a lathe, I suppose; a sort of animated telegraph
+pole.”
+
+“No; broad in proportion, cut to measure absolutely.”
+
+“Then he is a fine fellow,” with conviction.
+
+Lorraine felt a swift glow of pride, and then inwardly admonished
+herself for being silly. What, after all, was size? As Hal had
+trenchantly remarked, plenty of London policemen were just as big and
+fine. Half in self-defence she added:
+
+“He has brains as well, and he is as handsome as Apollo.”
+
+“Then run,” was the laconic response; “don’t stop to buy a ticket; pay
+the other end.”
+
+She smiled, but grew suddenly serious. Leaning forward with eyes
+straining hard to the horizon, she said: “Flip, I’ve had a hard life,
+in spite of the success. Shall I run?... or... shall I stay, and snatch
+joy, while there is still time?”
+
+He looked at her with a growing interest.
+
+“If I were you I should run,” he said; “but, all the same, I think
+you’ll stay.”
+
+“No; I don’t think I shall. There are other reasons. He is a good deal
+younger than I—and—well, I’ve a fair amount on my soul already.”
+
+The tired shadow was coming back to her eyes, but she laughed suddenly
+with an attempt at gaiety.
+
+“You ought to have heard Hal Pritchard on the subject. She remarked
+there were plenty of London policemen just as big, and suggested if I
+wanted a fine young animal to play with, I should be safer with a polar
+bear from the Zoo.”
+
+“Well done, Hal. We ought to have brought her. Where is she today?”
+
+“Careering across England in a haphazard fashion with her cousin Dick
+Bruce. Do you mind turning towards home now? I’m dining out, and have
+some letters to write.”
+
+“Who’s the happy man tonight?... I thought of course I was to have the
+whole day.”
+
+“With a view to getting wholesomely bored! No, Flip, I don’t propose to
+let you find that way out just yet.”
+
+“I should have found it for myself long ago if it were possible. As it
+is, I have grown resigned, and accept what crumbs fall to my portion.”
+He paused a moment and then asked, “Is it Goliath tonight?”
+
+“It is.”
+
+“Rash woman; and just when I have advised you to run.”
+
+“But it is not in the least serious yet. I only asked you in view of it
+becoming so.”
+
+“Which means you will try and start to run, _after_ you are firmly in
+the trap.”
+
+“Not at all. I won’t go near the trap. I’ll tell him I’m old enough to
+be his mother, and talk down to him from years of detestable common
+sense and sagacity.”
+
+“Which sounds as if it would be even duller than dining with me.”
+
+“Oh no. It holds novelty anyway. You are never dull, but likewise you
+are no longer novel.”
+
+They made for the high roads again, and spun along mostly in silence
+until the car once more came to a standstill at Lorraine’s door.
+
+“Come in,” she said, “I’ve lots of time.”
+
+“No,” with a little smile. “I’ve had my crumbs for the day. I’m going
+to have a good solid crust now to keep the balance. Do you know Lottie
+Bird?… Fourteen stone, if she’s an ounce, and a tongue like a
+sixty-horse-power motor. There are times when she’s so damned practical
+and overpowering she does me good. This is one of them. Good-bye. Don’t
+kill the giant with a glance; and don’t be silly enough to get hurt
+yourself.”
+
+“All right. I’ll go in full armour,” and she nodded gaily enough as he
+moved off down the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+What Lorraine exactly meant by full armour she did not quite know, but
+it might very well have been taken to mean the shining armour of her
+own best loveliness. Certainly after no small consideration she chose
+what she believed to be her most becoming gown, and she was unusually
+critical about the dressing of her hair.
+
+All the same, at 7.45 she was ready, and her cavalier had not yet
+arrived. She waited five minutes until he came, and then it was
+necessary to wait another five minutes that he might not know she had
+been more up to time than he. Then she entered the drawing-room in a
+little bit of a hurry, and cut short his simple, direct apologies by
+regretting her own tardiness, and saying she had been out motoring
+until late.
+
+But she had time to note quickly that he also had dressed himself with
+special care, plastering down resolutely the unruly determination of
+his fair hair to curl. That was good. Any suggestion of a curl must
+have produced an effect of effeminacy, whereas that neat, plastered
+wave showed the shapeliness of his head, and gave him a touch of manly
+decision. Her electric brougham was at the door, but she kept it
+waiting a few minutes, that they might be later than the majority of
+diners, and pass up a well-filled room.
+
+In the end their arrival was equal to her best expectations. She led
+the way slowly, with a queenly grace that was one of her best
+attributes; but as she nodded casually to an acquaintance here and
+there, she had plenty of time to observe the curious eyes from all
+around, looking with undisguised admiration, not so much at her
+faultless appearance, which was more or less known, but at her striking
+cavalier.
+
+She had engaged a small table at one of the top corners and arranged
+the seats sideways, so that both could look over the room if they
+wanted to, and at the same time be easily seen by others. She did this
+because it amused her to see people gazing at him, and to watch his
+quiet self-possession. She almost wondered if he even realised how much
+attention he attracted, but perceived that he could hardly help doing
+so, though he took it all with so simple and unabashed an air.
+
+She watched also to see if, as most of the strikingly handsome men she
+had known, he courted tell-tale glances from other eyes, and sipped
+honey from any flower within reach, as well as from his own particular
+flower. And when she found that his absolute and undivided attention
+was given to her, and that all the power of entertaining he could
+muster was called into her service, she felt a glow of gratitude to him
+that he had not disappointed her, but proved himself the simple,
+high-bred gentleman she longed to find him.
+
+It made her show herself to him at her very best. Not showily witty,
+nor callously gay, nor fashionably original, but just her own self of
+light humour and dainty speech and kindly sympathy, the true, best self
+that held Hal’s unswerving devotion through good account and ill.
+
+Unconsciously she left the time-worn paths of beauty and success, and
+became young, and fresh, and whole-hearted as he; tackling abstruse
+problems with a childlike, vigorous air; holding him spell-bound with
+her own charm of conversation one moment, and leading him on to talk
+with ease and frankness the next.
+
+The other diners got up and retired to the lounge, and still they sat
+on; no hint of boredom, no note of disparity, no need of other
+companionship. As they were preparing to rise, she told him lightly
+that he talked amazingly well for his tender years.
+
+“Only twenty-four,” he answered; “it does seem a kiddish age, doesn’t
+it!”
+
+“Dreadfully kiddish. It makes me feel old enough to be your
+grandmother.”
+
+He glanced up, half-questioning, half-deprecating.
+
+“That would be the oddest thing of all, unless I really appear to be
+about twenty years before my time.”
+
+For a reason she could not have fathomed, she looked into his eyes with
+a sudden seriousness and said:
+
+“I was thirty-two last week.”
+
+She saw a quick look of surprise he did not attempt to hide, followed
+by a very charming smile, as he asserted:
+
+“It is impossible. You could not sit there and look like that if you
+were thirty-two.”
+
+“The impossible is so often the true. I’m glad you don’t think I seem
+old. It is nice to believe one can keep young at heart, in spite of the
+years. Shall we go to the lounge?”
+
+Again they moved through the admiring crowd, but this time Lorraine
+felt less idle interest and more inward wonder; and without any
+misgiving she steered to a quiet alcove, where they could talk without
+again being the cynosure of many eyes.
+
+Here, in a pleasant, friendly way, she led him once again to talk of
+the future, and was glad to find, in answering sincerity with
+sincerity, he was ready to admit that he was a little sorry about his
+own lack of ambition and want of application. He did not pretend now
+that it was of no moment. He told her he would like to achieve, only
+somehow he always found his attention wander to other things, and his
+desire grow slack after a week of rigid application.
+
+She recognised that the motive-power was missing, and that unless
+something deeper than mere desire of achievement stirred him, he would
+probably never attain. He needed a goal that should make everything
+else in the world pale before it, and something that seemed almost as
+life and death to hang on his success. But how get it for him? If he
+loved, and was bidden wait until he had prospered, the end was all too
+sure and the love too easy.
+
+It was something different that was needed; something that would bring
+him up with dead abruptness against a blank wall, and leave him with a
+taste of life that was dust and ashes unless he found a way through.
+Either that or some sweet, wild, unattainable desire, that might drive
+him to work and ambition by way of escape.
+
+And there again, where should he encounter such a desire? One had only
+to look into his calm, fine face to feel that the unattainable in the
+form of love, barred by marriage vows as lightly made as broken, would
+never stir the depths of his heart, nor appeal to his real self in any
+way whatever.
+
+He would not love such a woman, however for a time she might fascinate
+him; and afterwards there would only be the nausea and the memory that
+was like an unpleasant taste. Such a woman might teach him many things
+it is no harm for a man to know; but she would never call to the best
+in him, nor help him to realise himself.
+
+“Have you seen your friend the duchess lately?” she asked, with a
+disarming smile, not wishing to appear merely curious.
+
+“Yes; I saw her on Friday, at a ball. She was in great form.”
+
+“You danced with her?”
+
+“Yes. She’s not a good dancer.”
+
+“Then you only had one, I suppose?”
+
+“No, three.” He smiled a little. “We sat out two.”
+
+“You ought to have felt highly honoured.”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know. She is very amusing. A very funny thing happened
+last week. Out of sheer devilry, she and a friend and two men went to
+the Covent Garden Fancy Dress Ball, disguised of course, and just for
+an hour or two. To their horror, after the procession, the friend was
+handed a large glass-and-silver salad bowl, as a prize for being the
+best ‘twostep’ dancer in the room. Of course she had to go off with the
+beastly thing; but she was so proud of winning it, she couldn’t resist
+giving their escapade away, and it got round everywhere.”
+
+“I wonder if our escapade with Lady Bounce is out yet? I haven’t seen
+Hal since Thursday.”
+
+“Oh yes, it is,” eagerly; “the duchess had heard about it. She was
+pumping me to know who was in the joke. We are longing to see Quin and
+hear the latest, but he is down east.”
+
+“What an oddity he is!” thoughtfully. “I liked him so much: but it is
+difficult to reconcile him with slumming.”
+
+“He’s one of the best. Every one loves him. And he does his slumming in
+quite a way of his own. I’ve been with him sometimes, and he just goes
+among the rough characters down there as if he hated being a swell and
+wanted to be one of them. He positively asks them for sympathy, and of
+course it takes their fancy and he is friends with them all.”
+
+“I think you are a remarkable trio altogether. Hal’s cousin Dick is
+just as original in his way as St. Quintin. And you, of course, are
+somehow different to the majority. I wonder how you will each end? St.
+Quintin will perhaps become a bishop. Dick Bruce will write an
+astounding, weird novel, and bound into fame. And you? …”
+
+He flushed a little. “I shall be left far behind by both of them,
+futilely wishing to catch up.”
+
+“I hope not. Your chance is just as good as theirs, if you choose to
+make it so,”
+
+“I fail to see that I have any chance at all.”
+
+“Most chances rest chiefly with ourselves. It’s a great thing to be
+ready for them if they come. I hope you’ll be that.”
+
+“I hope so too, but it would be easier if one were more sure they were
+coming,” and he laughed with a lightness that jarred a little.
+
+She rose to go, as it was getting late, feeling slightly disappointed
+in some vague way; and when they parted she noticed that his handshake
+was slightly limp, as of one who would not grasp life tightly enough to
+compel it to surrender its good things to him.
+
+But in her own sanctum she rallied herself, and hardened her heart,
+asking what had it to do with her after all, and how could his success
+or non-success in any way concern her.
+
+Doubtless in the end he would share the fate of the great majority and
+attain only mediocrity; having missed that one great blinding shaft of
+pain or joy that might have stabbed him into tense, pulsing life, and
+spurred him up the heights of fame and glory.
+
+She let her evening-cloak slide to a chair, turning to glance at a
+calling card on the table, with a renewal of the old, callous, cynical
+air. The practical force of Flip Denton’s conversation was making
+itself felt. Of course it was an absurdity for her to imagine herself
+in love with a youth of twenty-four—almost the dullest of all ages—be
+he never so good to look at. She might very well keep a motherly eye on
+him, and show him a side of life he might perhaps not see otherwise,
+but it must end there.
+
+No doubt a certain novelty had made the evening unusually pleasant:
+after two or three more they would certainly pall, and then she would
+go back to her old chums; the men of the world who had paid their
+footing and won their experience, and come through, careless enough
+devils at best in their own phraseology, but non the worse for a fall
+or two, and a win or two, and a self-taught hardihood for most things
+life was likely any more to send.
+
+She smiled a little as she remembered how calmly he had thanked her and
+said good-night. Of a surety he took his fruits quietly and
+unconcernedly enough. She wondered if he were secretly in love with
+some pink-and-white débutante, who flushed and smiled when he spoke,
+and gazed up at him with fond, adoring eyes. It was likely enough.
+
+No doubt he would tell her all about it soon, as a very young man tells
+a favourite sister, or a jolly, not too elderly aunt. She rather hoped
+he would. It would be an anti-climax humorous enough to cure her all in
+a moment of seeming anything to him other than that jolly, not too
+elderly aunt. Then she would invite Flip to dinner, and they would be
+gay together—she could imagine the tone in which he would call her
+“aunty”—and her folly would fall from her like an outgrown chrysalis,
+leaving her sane, and cynical, and wordly, and whole again.
+
+The train of thought pleased her, and soothed in some way an
+indefinable rasping sense of the general futility of all feeling and
+all striving. Surely she, with her young-old heart, her world-worn
+memories, and her youth that never was, should know that worldly-wise
+dictum full well.
+
+Of course she kew it.
+
+The things that mattered were beauty and brilliance and success; and
+these she had in good measure, brimming over. Her mood made her cross
+suddenly to the many-sided mirror, and switch on a blaze of light that
+would brook no feigning.
+
+In its searching gleams she looked at herself with clear, fearless
+eyes. Yes; it was all there still, untouched and unimpaired by those
+thirty-two years: the colouring, the skin, the rounded, supple
+figure—all the things for which men loved her and the world gave her
+fame.
+
+She gave herself a little mocking salute, and then turned away to hurry
+into her pretty, cosy bed.
+
+But what the blaze of light had not seen the mothering darkness hid
+tenderly. Two bright tear-drops, filling tired eyes that had tried so
+often to fool themselves into blind and callous content.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+“Dick Bruce will write an astounding, weird novel, and bound into
+fame,” Lorraine had remarked to her companion, and away somewhere down
+in Kent, an hour or so earlier, Dick had remarked to Hal as they spun
+along:
+
+“I’ve got the maddest idea for a novel you ever heard of. I’m going to
+make the hit of next season.”
+
+“I hope it’s not about babies,” said Hal, thinking of his doggerel.
+
+“Yes, it is—babies and vegetables.”
+
+“Oh, nonsense. You can’t make a novel out of babies and vegetables.”
+
+“You see if I can’t. The vegetables are all to be endowed with life,
+and of course the scene of my tale will be the vegetable kingdom.”
+
+“And where do the babies come in?”
+
+“The babies will represent mankind.”
+
+“I never heard such rot. Why should mankind be represented by babies?
+Much better let them be represented by green peas or gooseberries.”
+
+“Not at all. Mankind can only properly be represented by babies;
+mankind being in its infancy.”
+
+“But it isn’t. It’s much older than vegetables.”
+
+“It is not. Man was made last, and instead of developing into a
+reasonable, rational object, like a potato or a cabbage, he has strayed
+away into all manner of wild side-issues, and is still nothing but a
+very much perplexed infant.”
+
+“And do you propose to try and help him to emulate the reasonable,
+rational condition of the potato and cabbage?”
+
+“I propose to show him his inferiority to these delectable creations.”
+
+“Then if he has any sense he will just duck you in the Serpentine and
+make you apologise. Personally I consider myself anything but a baby,
+and far superior to any of the cabbage tribe.”
+
+“Ah!...” he cried gleefully. “You are actually proving my theory. I
+can’t explain now, but just wait till that book is written.”
+
+“Are you taking rooms at Colney Hatch while you do it?”
+
+“I have thought about it. You show more understanding in that remark
+than in any of the others.”
+
+“It doesn’t require much effort of understanding to think that out. Is
+the onion or the mangel-wurzel to be your hero?”
+
+“You are unsympathetic. I shall not tell you any more.”
+
+“Not at all. I am most interested really. I should make the cabbage
+your hero, and the onion your heroïne, then she can weep on his
+breast.” They swerved violently, and with a little gasp she added, “All
+the same, I’ve no desire to weep on the highway underneath a motor-car.
+What _are_ you doing?”
+
+“I don’t know. The steering-wheel seems a bit odd.”
+
+They stopped to examine the wheel, and almost immediately, out of the
+gathering darkness behind shot another car, hooting violently to them
+to get out of the way. Unable to stop the oncoming car in time, Dick
+tried to move aside, failed, and in less than a minute the newcomer, in
+spite of brakes swiftly adjusted, crashed into them, smashing their
+lamp, and badly damaging the back near-side wheel of the car.
+
+“Well, I’m blowed!” said Dick, “that’s the only moment in the whole day
+you shouldn’t have been on that particular square yard of the entire
+globe. Any other moment, I could either have moved aside or stopped you
+in time.”
+
+The occupant of the other car, who was driving alone, sprang out and
+came briskly forward.
+
+“What the devil!...” he began, then noticed the lady, and stopped
+short.
+
+“It was certainly the devil,” said Dick, ruefully examining his
+battered wheel, and “I always thought he was credited with the deceny
+to look after his own. How have you fared?”
+
+“Well, he seems to have looked after me all right,” in a cheery voice;
+“there’s nothing that will prevent my going on to town. But if you will
+pardon my curiosity, why take root in the middle of the road and ask
+for trouble?”
+
+Hal’s smile suddenly flashed out in the lamp-light irresistibly.
+
+“It’s a new theory about vegetables being wiser than mankind, but of
+course we took root too soon.”
+
+A pair of grey eyes looked quizzically at her in the darkness,
+discerning only the gleam of a white face in a close-fitting bonnet,
+and the flash of white, even teeth.
+
+“The blasted steering wheel wouldn’t act,” said Dick. “We had just that
+second slowed down to examine it. You might have come along here to all
+eternity and not have been as inopportune.”
+
+“You take it very well.” The big-coated apparition, in motor-cap with
+the ear-flaps down, and motor-goggles, and the suggestion of a
+rotundity about the centre, was not at all engaging to look at, but he
+had a charming voice.
+
+“I’m taking it so ill that I daren’t express myself out loud,” said
+Hal. “What in the world are we to do? Is there a train anywhere near?”
+
+“I’m afraid not, but there is a decent enough inn close by.”
+
+“An inn isn’t much use to me.” She paused, then added solemnly: “I’ve
+got a strait-laced brother.”
+
+Hal’s voice was rather deep and rich for a woman, and it had a
+dangerous allurement in the darkness. The stranger took off his goggles
+and tried again to see her face, while Dick took a minute stock of his
+damage.
+
+“Well,” he suggested, a little daringly, “if he is able to chaperone
+you at the inn himself?—”
+
+“He isn’t,” said Hal; “he’s somewhere east of Piccadilly, studying
+Phœnician Architecture, and the herringbone pattern on antique
+masonry.”
+
+“Oh, damn!” intercepted Dick, “the old man has let me down badly this
+time; this car won’t move before daybreak. It means a red light burning
+all night, and we must go to the inn.”
+
+“But, Dick,” Hal exclaimed in quick alarm. “How can I let Dudley know?
+He’ll have a fit at the idea of my being out all night like that.”
+
+“He ought to be too thankful you are safe and sound to mind anything
+else.”
+
+“But he won’t; because he is always grumbling at my not getting back
+before dark. There must surely be a train from somewhere?”
+
+Her voice had grown seriously alarmed as she began to realise what sort
+of a fix she was in. The stranger came forward to lend his aid to the
+inspection, and after a cursory glance added his verdict to Dick’s.
+
+“You won’t move her before morning; and there are no trains anywhere
+near here on Sunday night. I am going to London myself; you must let me
+give you both a lift.”
+
+Dick stood up with an air of finality.
+
+“I can’t leave her. She isn’t exactly all my own, you see. I must stay
+at the inn, but if you wouldn’t mind taking Miss Pritchard—” he looked
+at Hal a little anxiously.
+
+“I shall be delighted,” came the brisk response from the stranger.
+
+Hal for once was nonplussed, but her habitual humour reasserted itself.
+
+“I don’t know which Dudley will think the most dreadful,” she remarked
+comically, “for me to stay at the inn unchaperoned, or motor back with
+a stranger. I seem to be fairly between the devil and the deep sea.”
+
+The men laughed, but Dick made the decision.
+
+“You had better go back,” he said. “He will at least have you safe
+under lock and key by midnight that way and not lie awake worrying all
+night himself.”
+
+“Then let me run you to the inn first,” said the stranger, and after
+fixing his red lights, Dick went off with them in search of help to
+make the car safer for the night.
+
+A little later the stranger’s motor turned Londonwards with two
+occupants only, one in front and one behind. After a few miles he
+stopped.
+
+“Won’t you come and sit in front? It seems so unsociable to travel like
+this.”
+
+“Most unsociable,” said Hal, “but it would please Brother Dudley.”
+
+“Never mind Brother Dudley now.” The voice was very attractive. “Mind
+me, instead. I’m very dull here, and I hate driving in the dark. My
+chauffeur is down with the ‘flu’, and I couldn’t beg, borrow, nor steal
+any one else’s.”
+
+“Are you a doctor?” she asked, taking her seat beside him.
+
+“Why do you think I should be a doctor?” tucking a warm rug cosily
+round her, in a leisurely fashion.
+
+“Only because I thought perhaps you were obliged to go, in spite of
+your chauffeur being ill.”
+
+“I was obliged to go, but I’m not a doctor.”
+
+They started forward again, but the pace was noticeably slower.
+
+“I hope you don’t mind going slowly, it is so difficult to steer in te
+dark?”
+
+Hal was perfectly aware he had not found it so difficult before, but
+she only said lightly:
+
+“Anything to keep safe from another mishap. I might have to walk home
+next time.”
+
+“Or stay at an inn with me!...” with an amused laugh. “What would
+Brother Dudley do then?”
+
+“Have brain fever first, I expect, then creeping paralysis, then
+sleeping sickness.”
+
+He chuckled with enjoyment, and presently remarked: “I don’t think you
+treat Dudley respectfully enough if he is an affectionate elder
+brother.”
+
+“Oh, yes I do. I sort of leaven the lump. Without me he’d be just a
+clever prig; he couldn’t help it. With me he is only better than most
+men; and his lofty ideas don’t get top-heavy, because I keep him in
+touch with commonplace humanity.”
+
+“Why is he better than most men? What is the matter with the rest of
+us?”
+
+“The rest of you don’t bother to have lofty ideas at all, much less
+struggle to live up to them.”
+
+“You are a little sweeping. Do you like men to have lofty ideas, and be
+priggish?”
+
+“They don’t necessarily go together. It’s only Dudley who thinks all
+the rest of the world ought to be good too.”
+
+“And don’t you agree with him?”
+
+“I look at things from a different standpoint. I admire him
+tremendously, and feel his superiority; but it is more natural to me to
+take things as I find them and make the best of them as they are.”
+
+“You are evidently a very sensible young lady. You can find a warm spot
+in your heart even for a sinner, for instance!”
+
+“I rather like them,” and she gave a low laugh.
+
+“Of course you do, if you’re a true woman.”
+
+“Oh, I’m a true woman right enough. I like a man to have a spice of the
+devil in him; and I like playing with fire; and I love getting into
+mischief.”
+
+“Capital!... you and I must be friends. I’m beginning to think it was a
+lucky mishap for me at all events.”
+
+“I haven’t finished my qualifications yet. You may change your mind. I
+like all those sort of things, but at the same time I like the big
+things as well. Also I’m told I’m most annoyingly practical, and most
+irritatingly capable of taking care of myself, and never getting burnt,
+so to speak.”
+
+“Who told you that?”
+
+“I think it was some one at the office.”
+
+“What office?”
+
+She mentioned the name of one of the leading London papers.
+
+“Oh, you’re a working young lady, are you?” He asked the question with
+a new note in his voice, though it would have been difficult to tell
+just how the information struck him.
+
+Hal gave another laugh.
+
+“A working young lady! How awful! I shall not be friends with you if
+you call me anything so dreadful as that.”
+
+“What do you call it?”
+
+“Well, I think I like ‘Breadwinner’ best, as that is what I do it
+for—but I don’t mind working woman.”
+
+The stranger looked hard into the darkness a few moments, then he asked
+suddenly, sitll with the new note in his voice:
+
+“And I suppose you want the vote?”
+
+Mentally he was wondering whether, if she knew who he was, she would
+attack him physically or insist upon writing in chalk all over his car.
+
+“I don’t want it for myself, because I shouldn’t know what to do with
+it, and I haven’t much time to find out. But I want fair play for
+women-workers generally, and if that is the only way to get it, I hope
+it will come quickly.”
+
+“What do you mean by fair play?”
+
+“Just whatever is fair play. I don’t think women ought to be making
+iron chains at Cradley Heath for a penny a yard, for instance, and that
+sort of thing. I think it is a slur on the men who govern the country
+that it is possible. If you were one of them, and drove about in this
+beautiful car, not caring twopence whether starving women were sweated
+or not, I should—” she hesitated.
+
+“Well, what should you—”
+
+Detecting the mysterious note in his voice, she added with mischievous,
+half-serious intent:
+
+“I should want to scratch you, and bite you, and push you into the
+first available ditch, for a poor coward, who was afraid to take care
+of the interests of woman, in case she got too well able in the end to
+take care of herself—so there.”
+
+He could not help laughing, and when he subsided she added:
+
+“I suppose you are one.”
+
+“Why do you suppose it?”
+
+“Never mind. Are you?”
+
+“You promise you won’t scratch me and bite me?”
+
+“I’ll give you a sporting chance to run away.”
+
+“I’m not very likely to run away from you, I think.”
+
+They had reached the well-lit roads now, and he turned and looked
+keenly into her face, partly to see if by chance he might recognise
+her, and partly to get a cleaner idea of her appearance.
+
+“You look too nice to be a suffragette,” he said.
+
+“Such rot! Do I look too nice to care whether working women and outcast
+women are fairly treated or not?”
+
+“That’s only the bluff of the movement. What they really want is power
+and notoriety.”
+
+Hal tossed her head.
+
+“You’re a positive worm,” she told him frankly.
+
+Again his engaging laugh rang out.
+
+“That’s a nice thing to say to a man who has brought you all the way
+from Millington to London, and helped you out of a tight corner.”
+
+The white teeth gleamed suddenly.
+
+“I’ll qualify it if you like, and call you a cross between a worm and a
+brick.”
+
+“Not good enough. I won’t pass the worm at all. If you don’t retract it
+wholly I shall put you down at the first tram, and let you get back to
+Bloomsbury on your own.”
+
+“I’ll retract, if you’ll tell me who you are.”
+
+“I’ll tell you afterwards.”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“Perhaps you are going to Downing Street even now, to plan a crushing
+blow to the Cause.”
+
+“I am going to Downing Street, but it has nothing to do with the Cause,
+as you call it.”
+
+It was her turn to glance round, but she only saw that he was
+clean-shaven, and somewhat lined. His grey, quizzical eyes met hers
+full of humour.
+
+“I wonder who we both are?” he said.
+
+“I can easily tell you who I am, as I’m so comfortably of no account.
+My name is Harriet Pritchard, and my friends call me Hal. I live with
+Brother Dudley, who is an architect; and if the world isn’t any the
+better for me, I hope it is sometimes a little gayer, that’s all.”
+
+“And are you engaged to the young man whose steering gear went wrong?”
+
+“No; I am not engaged to any one at all.”
+
+“Very nearly perhaps?”
+
+“No; not even within sight of it. Being engaged, and always having to
+go out with the same pal, would bore me to tears.”
+
+“I see.” There was a note of satisfaction in his voice. In the brighter
+lights he had observed that the warm ulster clung to a very shapely
+figure, and covered a pair of fine shoulders, and even if she was not
+pretty, for he could not be quite sure on the point, she was certainly
+very attractive, and had a delightfully engaging smile.
+
+“I wonder if there is room for another in the ranks.”
+
+Something a little condescending in the way he made the suggestion
+nettled Hal.
+
+“Aren’t you a rather old?” she asked.
+
+Again his ready laugh rang out.
+
+“I’ll give frankness for frankness. I am forty-eight.”
+
+“Goodness!… and I am twenty-five.”
+
+“Is that all? Then allow me to say you are a remarkably clever young
+woman.”
+
+“A good many breadwinners are; they have to be. Some of them are too
+clever even for Cabinet Ministers,” and she chuckled joyfully.
+
+In the darkness, she did not see the quick gleam in his eyes, as he
+retorted:
+
+“I don’t think many Cabinet Ministers have the luck to meet a
+breadwinner who is as attractive as she is clever.”
+
+“And if they did,” sarcastically, “I suppose they would drop the
+notoriety yarn and find time to consider whether the working woman is
+treated fairly or not. The weakness in her defence at present seems
+solely that not enough pretty women make up her defenders. Bah! You all
+ought to have kittens to play with, and nanny goats and woolly lambs.”
+
+“I don’t know why you include me. What have I done?”
+
+“Well, if you’re going to Downing Street?”
+
+“Why shouldn’t I be going to a dinner-party?”
+
+She turned and glanced up with a daredevil light in her eyes that
+delighted him.
+
+“I not only think you a member of Parliament, but, judging by your
+fatuous air of superiority, I should imagine you are positively a
+full-blown Cabinet Minister.”
+
+He busied himself with his steering wheel, while little chuckles of
+enjoyment came out of his muffler.
+
+“And supposing I were?” he said at last.
+
+“Goodness!… I hope you’re not?…” in quick alarm.
+
+“Why do you hope so?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know, except that I’ve never known a Cabinet Minister in
+my life, and I never expected, if I met one, to treat him like… like—”
+
+“An old and fatuous lump of superiority!” with a gay laugh. “Well,
+little woman, you needn’t be in the least sorry. I don’t know that I’ve
+ever enjoyed a motor ride more. When will you come again?”
+
+“_Are_ you a Cabinet Minister?…” she asked helplessly.
+
+“Well, I hope you won’t disapprove, for I have to plead guilty to being
+Sir Edwin Crathie.”
+
+“Sir Edwin Crathie?” in abashed tones.
+
+“They called me Squib at school.” He said it in a whimsical, humorous
+voice, looking down at her with very friendly eyes.
+
+But Hal had grown silent.
+
+“I’m afraid by your manner you do disapprove?”
+
+“It is certainly embarrassing. I would rather you had been… well, just
+any one.”
+
+“You’ll get used to it,” still with the twinkle in his eyes. “In the
+meantime you haven’t answered my question. When will you come for
+another ride?”
+
+She did not reply, and he leaned a little closer.
+
+“You will come again?”
+
+“I’m afraid Brother Dudley wouldn’t like it”; and then they both
+laughed.
+
+“Will you come in?” as they drew up before her door.
+
+“I’m afraid I haven’t time; and besides, I’m a little afraid of Brother
+Dudley. I only feel equal to the Prime Minister this evening.”
+
+She held out her hand.
+
+“Well, thank you ever so much. You saved me from a dreadfully tight
+corner.”
+
+“The thanks should be all mine; you saved me from unmitigated boredom.
+I cursed my chauffeur for going down with ‘flu’ today, but now I feel
+ready to raise his salary for it.”
+
+He had pulled of his thick motoring-glove, and was holding her hand in
+a firm, lingering clasp, which she quickly cut short, tucking both her
+hands into her ulster pockets, and standing up very straight and slim
+in the lamplight.
+
+“I’ll have to go though the confessional now,” she told him, “and sit
+on the stool of repentance for supper.”
+
+“No; don’t repent; come again.” He moved nearer.
+
+“I’m naturally a very busy man, and I can’t make engagements offhand,
+but I can easily get at you on the telephone. Will you come some
+afternoon, about half-past four?”
+
+“I think you are very rash. How do you know I shall not bring the
+colours, and wave them wildly down the street, shouting ‘Votes for
+Women’?”
+
+“I’ll risk it. Will you come?”
+
+She moved away, latch-key in hand.
+
+“I don’t know. I won’t promise, anyway. Good-bye, and my best thanks.”
+
+There was a rush of light through an open door, a last bright smile,
+and he found himself alone in the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+When Hal entered the sitting-room and met Dudley’s eyes she felt, as
+she afterwards described it to Lorraine, that she was in for it. Yet it
+was not so very late, barely half-past nine. On the table her supper
+was still waiting for her.
+
+“We’ve had a slight accident,” she said, taking the bully by the horns;
+“something went wrong with the steering gear, and it delayed us. Have
+you had supper?” noticing the table was still laid for two.
+
+“I always have supper at eight on Sundays, because Mrs. White has to
+clear it away herself, as you know. Isn’t Dick coming in?”
+
+“No. He’s—” Hall stopped short, considering the advantages of
+prevarication.
+
+“I wanted to see him,” testily. “He said he would give me a particular
+address tonight. Why is he in such a hurry?”
+
+“It wasn’t Dick who brought me.”
+
+She took off her motor-bonnet and threw it on the sofa, running her
+hands through her bright hair, and rubbing her cheeks, which were a
+little cold.
+
+“Not Dick?...” Dudley looked up from his book peremptorily. “Who did
+bring you?”
+
+Hal took her seat at the table.
+
+“Well, you see, we had a slight accident. We had just stopped to
+examine the steering gear, when another car came round a curve and
+crashed into us. Dick’s car was damaged, and...” she reached across for
+the salad, and helped herself with as unconcerned an air as she could
+muster... “Oh!... onions!... how scrumptious!... Mrs. White always
+remembers my plebeian tastes, but not my patrician ones.”
+
+“Well!” he suggested coldly. “Dick’s car was damaged, and—”
+
+“Dick had to stay and nurse it.”
+
+“Then did you come home by train?”
+
+“There was no train. There was nothing else.”
+
+“Nothing else than what?”
+
+“Nothing but the car that run into us, or going to an inn for the night
+with Dick. I was afraid you wouldn’t like that,” with a mischievous
+gleam.
+
+“My likes and dislikes are not, apparently, of the smallest moment to
+you, or you would not have been motoring late on Sunday at all.”
+
+“Dick can’t go other days.”
+
+“Who was in this other car?”
+
+“A man.”
+
+Again he glanced up quickly.
+
+“Any one else?”
+
+“No. His chauffeur is down with ‘flu’.”
+
+“Was it some one you knew, then?”
+
+“No. He told me on the way in.”
+
+“Am I to gather that you returned to London alone, in a motor-car, with
+a perfect stranger?”
+
+“I’m afraid you are.”
+
+“Why didn’t Dick come with you? Surely if he takes you out for the day
+he might at least see you safely home. I never heard of such
+proceedings in my life. The man might have been a positive blackguard.
+Had you any idea who he was?”
+
+“No, none; but what’s the use of making a fuss! It’s all right now, and
+I’m safely at home; which is surely better than being in some weird
+village all night, and you wondering what on earth had become of me.”
+
+“That is not the question. It’s the whole circumstance from beginning
+to end. I consider Dick’s behaviour most reprehensible.”
+
+“He couldn’t leave his car alone there in the middle of a Kentish high
+road. He had to stay somewhere near.”
+
+“I think he should have considered you of more importance than the car.
+To let you return alone, at that hour, with a perfect stranger, is the
+most unheard of proceeding. I shall certainly tell Dick what I think of
+him.”
+
+“It wasn’t Dick’s fault,” loyally. “I just took the matter into my own
+hands and came. Dick had nothing to do with it. In fact, I insisted
+upon his remaining behind.”
+
+“Oh, of course you would. You only seem to be happy when you are flying
+in the face of some convention or other. But Dick is older than you,
+and he knows my views on these matters. He owed it to me to see you
+safely home.”
+
+“But since I am safely home!...” obstinately.
+
+“You very well might not have been. What the stranger himself must
+think of you I don’t know. Have you any idea who he was?”
+
+“Yes. Sir Edwin Crathie?”
+
+“Sir Edwin Crathie! Do you mean the Cabinet Minister?”
+
+“So he said.”
+
+“And did you tell him who you were?”
+
+Again there was a gleam under the lowered lashes.
+
+“I did; but I can’t say he either recognised our historie name or
+seemed much impressed. I really don’t believe he had ever heard of me.”
+
+Dudley refused to smile. Instead the frown deepened on his face.
+
+“That is probably just as well. Your actions of late cannot be said to
+be entirely to your credit. What is this tale about Thursday night? I
+met St. Quintin’s father with Uncle Bruce this morning in the Park. You
+told me Quin’s aunt was going to chaperone you. Did she or did she
+not?”
+
+“I told you Lady Bounce was going to chaperone me. Lady Bounce _did_
+chaperone me.”
+
+“Is Lady Bounce Quin’s aunt?”
+
+“That depends.” Hal pushed away her chair, wishing vaguely that fathers
+and uncles would mind their own business. Either incident alone she
+could have coped with, but it was a distinct imposition to expect her
+to manage both at once, and on Sunday night into the bargain.
+
+“I can only presume you lent yourself to such a vulgar proceeding as
+Quin dressing up as a woman and acting chaperone. Is that the truth?”
+
+“Not entirely. You see, he wasn’t an ordinary woman. He went as his
+aunt, Lady Phyllis Fenton. His personification was a masterpiece.”
+
+Dudley began to pace the room. His thin lips were compressed into a
+straight line, and his whole air distincly worried.
+
+“What you seem quite unable to perceive is the way in which these
+incidents reflect upon your good taste and upon my guardianship.”
+
+Hal grew suddenly nettled.
+
+“It is nonsense to talk of guardianship now. I am twenty-five, and I
+earn my own living. I am perfectly well able to take care of myself.”
+
+“No; that is just what you are not. You are so rash and inconsequent.”
+
+“Well, anyhow I get a good deal out of my life, while you—”
+
+He remembered his own Thursday evening and intercepted:
+
+“It is possible to get a great deal out of life without outraging every
+convention. Do you imagine either Ethel or Doris Hayward would do the
+wild things you do?”
+
+“Ethel Hayward is a brick. She couldn’t be straitlaced anyhow, nor
+narrow-minded. Doris would do anything under the sun that suited her
+own ends.”
+
+She got up, and turned away without perceiving his frown, beginning to
+gather up her paraphernalia. He stopped short in his walk.
+
+“If it really was Sir Edwin Crathie who brought you home, I must write
+and thank him, I think.”
+
+“I shouldn’t bother; probably it wasn’t him at all; only some
+third-rate actor.”
+
+Dudley tried to see her face, not sure if she was serious or not, but
+she kept her head averted as she added:
+
+“Quite possibly it was Lord Bounce.”
+
+“You are always treating a serious subject with levity,” he complained.
+“What am I to think? Do you or do you not believe your escort was Sir
+Edwin Crathie?”
+
+“Well, as he was awfully afraid I might be a militant suffragette, I
+think he really was a Cabinet Minister.”
+
+“I hope you entirely undeceived him on that score,” drily.
+
+“Not at all. I told him I was tingling to scratch him and bite him,”
+and the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
+
+Dudley relapsed into silent displeasure, and for a few moments neither
+spoke. Then Hal, with her garments on her arm, came round to him with a
+frank, affectionate air.
+
+“Dudley, don’t make mountains out of molehills over nothing. I know I
+am a little wild. I can’t help it—we seem to have got mixed up somehow.
+You’ve got all the decorum and nice, refined feelings of a charming
+woman, and I’ve got the enterprise and ‘don’t-care’ spirit of a man. It
+isn’t any use fighting against facts. You must take me as I am, and
+make the best of it. I can’t change now; and I don’t know that I would
+if I could.”
+
+“I don’t suppose you would. You positively glory in the very traits
+that I deplore”; but his voice sounded mollified.
+
+“Oh well, old man, you wouldn’t like me to be helpless, and foolish,
+and woolly-lambified, would you? It wouldn’t be half so interesting.
+Just fancy if you had a sister like Doris Hayward, can you imagine
+anything tamer?”
+
+He stiffened again, but she did not notice it.
+
+“As for Thursday night, you never ought to have heard about it, and you
+never would have done if Uncle Bruce had not been such an old telltale.
+Just wait till I get him alone; that’s all. Anyhow, he didn’t think it
+a heinous crime did he? I expect he gave a great laugh that startled
+every one within hearing.”
+
+As that was exactly what had happened, Dudley made no comment.
+
+“And Sir Edwin Crathie would only have thought me a fool if I had been
+afraid to come back with him. These things will happen occasionally.
+They are not worth worrying about. You are too anxious over trifles,
+Dudley.” She moved away towards the door. “Well, good-night, don’t
+forget to return thanks that anyhow I am not in a hospital, generally
+smashed up.”
+
+She left him, and retired to bed, feeling a little depressed. Of course
+he had not forgiven her, nor would he see things from her point of
+view. She almost wished he did not mind; but all her life she had had
+an affection that was almost adoration for her one brother, and it
+always depressed her to displease him, however indifferent she might
+seem.
+
+She awoke next morning with the sense of depression still lingering,
+and set off for the City in far from her usual spirits. The office
+seemed dingy and dull, and the routine wearisome. It felt like ages and
+ages since she had driven home through the darkness in Sir Edwin’s
+beautiful car. She wondered if it was real at all; only what else
+should make all the old friends at the office appear so uninteresting
+and commonplace.
+
+She speculated a little forlornly as to whether she would ever be
+likely to see him again, and decided it was most unlikely, and that
+probably he had already forgotten the whole incident.
+
+And just when she had reached that point in her meditations, the
+telephone boy came to tell her some one was asking for her. She asked
+him dispiritedly who it was, and he replied that the gentleman had
+declined to give a name.
+
+Hal shut herself into the case, took down the receiver, and, still
+dispiritedly, asked: “Hullo! Are you there?”
+
+“Is that Miss Pritchard?” asked a voice that made her pulses hasten.
+
+“Yes? Who is that?”
+
+“The mere worm,” came back the cheery answer.
+
+“What’s the matter? You sound somewhat funereal. Was Brother Dudley
+very angry?”
+
+“Terrible. I am still recovering. He seemed to have grave doubts as to
+whether you really were the eminent person you professed to be!”
+
+“Oh, he did, did he? And what did you say?”
+
+“That it was quite possible you were only a third-rate actor all the
+time.”
+
+“Thanks. I shall not grow vain on your compliments. Have you any grave
+doubts yourself?”
+
+“I don’t mind either way.”
+
+“Thanks again. Well, I am speaking to you from my own private sanctum
+at the House of Commons; and if you want to make sure, you can take my
+number, and ring up the Exchange and inquire.”
+
+“I’ll take your word for it.”
+
+“Good girl. You don’t sound quite so obstreperous as you were last
+night. What’s the matter?”
+
+“I’m only Mondayfied. The office is always boring on a Monday.”
+
+“I’m sorry I can’t suggest a spin this afternoon, but I’m too much
+engaged until Wednesday. Will you come on Wednesday? Well?” as Hal,
+appeared to be meditating.
+
+“Where do you propose going?” she asked.
+
+“Anywhere you like. I’d better not fetch you from the office though.
+I’ll pick you up just casually in St. Jame’s Park. Will you be there at
+five, near the Archway?”
+
+“All right, if I can get away. How shall I let you know if I change my
+mind?”
+
+“Don’t do anything so childish. The run will do you good after a stuffy
+office. I’ll be there to the minute. Good-bye,” and he rang off without
+waiting for a reply.
+
+Hal went back to her work, with a pleasurable sensation that instead of
+grey stuffiness there was joyful sunshine. She had never imagined for a
+moment he would actually carry out his suggestion of a meeting; and
+here they were with an actual appointment.
+
+It was so odd, too, that they had not properly seen each other yet;
+only having met in the light of street lamps; and she fell to wondering
+eagerly what he was like in broad daylight. A voice whispered, “Perhaps
+you won’t like him at all, and will wish you had not gone”; but her
+love of adventure easily silenced it, and she looked forward to her
+outing without any misgivings.
+
+Once she thought she would go an tell Lorraine about it first, but
+later decided it would be more enjoyable to do so afterwards, and kept
+her own counsel; which perhaps was not entirely wise, seeing how much
+more cause Lorraine had to know the world than she had.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Sir Edwin Crathie had come to the front very rapidly under the auspices
+of the Liberal Government. Without having any special worth, he was
+sufficiently brilliant and unscrupulous to brush obstacles aside
+without compunction, and assert himself in a manner that impressed his
+hearers with the notion that he was very clever, very thorough, and
+very reliable.
+
+Those who knew him superficially believed him extra-ordinarily clever.
+Those who knew him intimately sometimes shrugged their shoulders. He
+was possessed undoubtedly of a certain flashy sort of cleverness, but
+some of his greatest skill existed in imposing it upon others as
+strength and insight.
+
+As may be imagined, such a man was not much troubled with principles.
+If a step was likely to help him forward with his ambitions, he took it
+without considering the moral aspect. If no help was likely to follow,
+he only took it if it happened to please his fancy. To say that he had
+climbed by women was to put it mildly.
+
+Many of his steps he had taken on women’s hearts, trampling them
+mercilessly in the process. And since he was admittedly unscrupulous,
+it was not surprising, for he was possessed not only of an attractive
+appearance, but of great personal magnetism when he chose to exert it.
+
+He was a bachelor because so far he had considered the single state
+best forwarded his aims, but a growing and imperative need for money
+was now causing him to look round among the richest heiresses for some
+one to pay his debts in consideration of being made Lady Crathie.
+
+In the meantime Hal’s independent spirit and freshness suggested an
+entertaining interlude; and as she attracted him more strongly than any
+woman had done of late, he decided to follow up their chance friendship
+just for the amusement of it.
+
+In consequence, he felt quite boyishly eager for the hours to pass on
+Wednesday, and when at last it was time to start, dismissed his
+chauffeur with a curt sentence, and started off alone. The chauffeur,
+it may be mentioned, merely glanced after him, and with a shrug of his
+shoulders wondered “what the master was up to now.”
+
+When Sir Edwin reached the meeting-place he was not particularly
+surprised to find no signs of Hal. He believed she would come; but
+evidently she liked being perverse, and would purposely keep him
+waiting. He ran the car slowly back again, scanning each pedestrian
+ahead with a certain anxious eagerness, wondering how he would like her
+in broad daylight.
+
+On returning to the Archway, and still finding no one waiting, he
+alighted with a pretence of examining some part of the car, and looked
+back over the paths leading down from Piccadilly.
+
+And something in his mental regions felt rather foolishly glad when he
+recognised her afar off.
+
+He had never seen her walk, but his instinct told him Hal would move
+with just the graceful, swinging stride of the tall, slim figure coming
+towards him, and carry her head and shoulders with just such a
+dauntless, grenadier attitude.
+
+He found himself standing quite still, with his hands deep in his
+overcoat pockets, watching her. Her costume, too, pleased his
+fastidious taste. Of course a first-class tailor had cut a coat and
+skirt with a fit and hang like that; and the small hat, if it had
+nothing Parisian about it, anyhow suited the wearer and dress to
+perfection.
+
+He noted with quiet pleasure that she showed no signs of embarrassment
+when she met his watching gaze, merely crossing the road with the same
+jaunty, upright walk, and a gleam of fun in her eyes.
+
+“Hullo!” was her greeting. “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting. I’ve had a
+busy afternoon helping my chief to give you and The Right Honourable
+Hayes Matheson a good slanging.”
+
+“Oh, you have, have you?”
+
+The grey eyes were growing more and more approving, as he noted each
+detail most likely to appeal to a man who had made a study of women for
+many years. The shapely little ears with the glossy hair curling round
+them, the full, rounded throat, the determined little chin, the frank,
+fearless eyes.
+
+He still hardly knew whether she was pretty or not, but he discerned
+wery quickly that she was amply blessed with that rare gift of
+personality and humour that is so much more durable than a pretty face.
+
+Hal, for her part, was no less interested in him, but she found little
+else than that she had already seen: humorous, quizzical grey eyes, a
+face a good deal lined, and a mouth and chin suggesting a nature fond
+of enjoyment and self-indulgence, which it had never seen any cause to
+deny itself. She saw that he was very grey about the temples, and a
+trifle inclined to stoutness, but tall enough and broad enough to carry
+it off.
+
+A fine figure of a man, though one, she felt instinctively, belonging
+to a very different world to hers. Because she felt his careful
+scrutiny, and because she wanted to assert her indifference to it, she
+remarked suddenly, after a moment:
+
+“Well, how do you like me by daylight?”
+
+“How do you like me?” he retorted, and laughed.
+
+She shook her head, and her eyes grew mischievous.
+
+“Old,” she said; “quite old and grey.”
+
+“Old be damned! Forty-eight is the prime of life.”
+
+She was taking her seat, and gave a low chuckle of enjoyment at having
+drawn him.
+
+“Ah, you may laugh now,” he said, “but I’ll soon show you forty-eight
+is far more attractive than twenty-eight. Where shall we go?”
+
+“I don’t mind in the least, but I should prefer to steer for tea and
+buns.”
+
+“Tea and buns!… how like a woman!… How can you expect to get the vote
+on tea and buns?”
+
+They were spinning along the Broughton Road now, heading for Putney and
+Richmond, and Hal felt her spirits rising momentarily with the joy of
+the motion and comfort and fresh air.
+
+“We don’t expect to get in on tea and buns; we expect to get it on
+whisky and beer. That is to say, we expect the course of events to
+prove that tea and buns conduce to a frame of mind better able to cope
+with the questions of the day than the whisky and beer drained in such
+quantities by men.”
+
+“And when you’ve got it you’ll all vote for the man who happens to be
+good-looking, and who can pay you the prettiest compliments.”
+
+“A few will vote that way, no doubt, but not the majority. Women are
+not so fond of pretty men as they were”; and her lips curled
+significantly.
+
+“Pretty men!…” he echoed, with enjoyment.
+
+“Little woman, you have a neat way of putting things.”
+
+He was silent a few minutes, then added:
+
+“I suppose, down at that office they are all in love with you?”
+
+“I don’t know. I haven’t asked them,” with twinkling eyes. “I’m a bit
+in love with the chief myself.”
+
+“Oh, your are, are you? And what aged man might he be?”
+
+“Oh, he’s quite old,” she laughed; “somewhere about forty-eight.”
+
+“And is he in love with you?”
+
+“It just depends. Sometimes he’s rather fond of me on a Saturday; but
+on Mondays he loathes me.”
+
+“I see. And are you as changeable?”
+
+“No, I love him always; but on Mondays it’s mostly from habit. On
+Saturdays it’s from choice.”
+
+He looked down at her, and it was on the tip of his tongue to state
+some commonplace about being jealous. Then suddenly he looked back to
+his steering wheel, and the commonplace sentence died unspoken. Quite
+unaccountably he felt less inclined to flirt and more inclined to be
+really friendly, and for some distance they skimmed along in silence.
+
+They had tea at the Star and Garter, both chatting volubly on the most
+interesting topics of the day. Hal’s newspaper work had made her
+cognisant of many subjects very few girls of her age would even have
+heard of, and her original criticisms delighted him. It was a gay
+little tea-table, and the time slipped by with extraordinary rapidity.
+Hal noticed it first.
+
+“Do you know it is half-past six?” she said, “and I’m dining out
+tonight. We must fly.”
+
+“Is it really past six?…” in astonishment. “How the time has flown! You
+know, you are such an entertaining little woman, you make me forget
+everything but yourself.” He looked at her hard, and the force of habit
+caused him to add: “I doubt if any other woman I know today could have
+given me so much pleasure.”
+
+“Well, you needn’t thank me,” with her low, fresh laugh, “because I
+came entirely to give myself pleasure.”
+
+“Then I hope you have succeeded. I see it is quite hopeless to expect
+any sort of a complimentary speech from you.”
+
+“Quite; though I don’t mind admitting I have been very enjoyably
+entertained as well.”
+
+“That is something, anyhow. And now I suppose you are going straight
+off home to dress, and dine with some one else, and forget about me?”
+
+“I don’t suppose I shall forget you. It happens to be a journalist
+dinner, and probably we shall tear you to pieces between us before we
+have finished.”
+
+“Well, I’d rather you did that than forget me.”
+
+She felt him looking hard into her face, with something a little
+sinister in his expression, and she got up and turned away.
+
+“Why do you turn away when I am interested? Don’t you think you might
+be a little pleased that I don’t want you to forget me?”
+
+He asked the question with a humorous twinkle, though she felt that he
+meant it seriously as well. This last, however, she was clever enough
+to ignore, and merely threw him a mischievous glance over her shoulder
+as she answered:
+
+“Well, I have to consider Brother Dudley’s attitude, you see; and I’ve
+a notion he would be best pleased for both the incident and motorist of
+Sunday evening to be forgotten.”
+
+He got up slowly, looking amused.
+
+“I suppose he would be horrified at this outing?”
+
+“I strongly suspect he would.”
+
+“What if he hears you were out motoring at Richmond with me?”
+
+“Oh, well, I shall tell him you are old enough to be my father, and not
+to be absurd.”
+
+“Why do you harp on my age so?… If I am old enough to be your father,
+it doesn’t follow that I’m too old to be your lover?”
+
+He was standing close to her now, looking down into her face, and Hal
+felt a little conscious tremor run through her blood. She faced him
+squarely, however, and answered in a gay, careless voice:
+
+“Of course it doesn’t, only, as I don’t happen to want a lover, it’s a
+contingency not worth considering.”
+
+“Perhaps the post is already filled?” he suggested, refusing likewise
+to be daunted.
+
+“Quite filled. It’s a case for a placard stating ‘House Full’, and
+you,” she finished, “would naturally be at the tail end of the queue
+which has to go away.”
+
+He laughed with relish, and gave it up.
+
+“I can see you will take some taming,” he said, as he handed her into
+the car. “My weighty and important position evidently does not impress
+you in the least.”
+
+“Of course not, as you’re a Liberal. They have so few really good men,
+they have to take anything they can get. Back up the Budget and the
+Chancellor, and exhibit a colossal amount of impudence, and there you
+are!”
+
+“Well, there isn’t much to boast of in the way of men on the
+Conservative side, is there? Chiefly a collection of cousins, and
+second-cousins, and cousins by marriage, shoved in by a few interfering
+old aunts. You don’t need me to tell an enlightened young woman like
+you that even impudence might serve the country better than
+cousin-ship.”
+
+“I wonder sometimes if any of you honestly put the country first at any
+time; or whether it is just a popular name for a very big ‘me’?”
+
+“You are such a little sceptic. Do you always credit people with
+self-interested motives?”
+
+“I don’t know that I do; but if you are a city-worker it is a fairly
+safe basis to work upon, until you can find proof that you are wrong.”
+
+He looked down at her with amusement.
+
+“What a wise little head it is! Do you know, I don’t think I ever met
+any one quite like you before,”
+
+“What you have missed!” was the gay rejoinder, and they both laughed.
+
+“I suppose I mustn’t take you home?” as they neared Piccadilly.
+“Brother Dudley might see us?”
+
+“No, thanks. If you will drop me at Hyde Park Corner I will take a
+homely bus, and return to my Bloomsbury level.”
+
+“Until my next free afternoon, I hope. Will you come again soon?”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“What do you do on Sundays?”
+
+“I generally go out with Dick Bruce.”
+
+“Does Dick Bruce consider himself entitled to every Sunday?”
+
+“Well, I consider myself entitled to Dick!…” laughing.
+
+“You’re evidently very fond of Dick.”
+
+“Very,” with enthusiasm. “I have been for twenty-five years. We were
+like the two babies in _Punch_ which said, ‘Help yourself and pass the
+bottle.’”
+
+“Dick’s a lucky devil. Does he take Saturday afternoons as well?”
+
+“No; he plays cricket or hockey then.”
+
+“Then may I have a Saturday afternoon?”
+
+“It would be jolly;” and a swift gleam in her eyes told him she meant
+it.
+
+“Very well. I shall consider that a promise. The first Saturday I can
+arrange, we’ll run down to some little place on the coast, and get some
+sea air. And if you feel inclined to write me a letter between now and
+then, send it to York Chambers, Jermyn Street.”
+
+He pulled up, and instantly she exclaimed in haste:
+
+“Oh, there’s my bus. Good-bye, thanks awfully; I must fly”; and before
+he could get in another word, he saw her clambering on to a
+motor-omnibus, with the utmost unconcern for his sudden, astonished
+solitariness.
+
+“Gad!… what a woman she’ll be one day,” was his comment. “If she’d a
+hundred thousand pounds I wouldn’t mind marrying her myself; she’d
+never let a chap get bored. I’ll warrant,” He moved slowly down
+Piccadilly. “Most of them do,” he cogitated; “it doesn’t seem as if
+there were one woman in a thousand who didn’t soon become a bore.
+Heigh-ho, but debts are more boring still sometimes, and I want a
+fifty-thousand cheque badly.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+When Hal went to tell Lorraine of her adventure she found her a victim
+of the prevailing malady, kept indoors two days with influenza. She was
+not in bed, but lying on a sofa, by a small fire, looking very frail
+and ill. Hal did not say much, as Lorraine disliked fussing, but her
+heart smote her to think she had been absent two days while her friend
+was a prisoner.
+
+“Why didn’t you tell Jean to ’phone me?” she asked. “I would have got
+here somehow.”
+
+Instead of answering, Lorraine nestled down into her cushions, and
+said:
+
+“It’s dreadful nice to see you, chummy.”
+
+Hal drew up a footstool, and sat down with her head against the sofa.
+
+“What does the court physician say, Lorry? Of course he is generally
+fathering and brothering and mothering you as well as doctoring?”
+
+“Yes; he is taking care of me in a sort of all-round, comprehensive
+fashion. I don’t know what I should do without him.”
+
+“Do!…” with a little laugh. “Why, just have another court physician
+instead.” Hal’s eyes strayed round the room. “What loverly flowers,
+Lorraine! Don’t they almost make you feel a corpse?”
+
+“They would if they were white, I dare say.”
+
+On a little table by the sofa was a bowl of violets, looking very sweet
+and homely among the beautiful exotics filling all the other vases. Hal
+buried her nose in them.
+
+“How delicious! Who ventured to send your royal highness anything so
+homely as violets?”
+
+Lorraine’s eyes rested on them with a look of tenderness. “Some one not
+very well off,” she said, “who had the perspicacity to know I should
+value them from him more than the choicest blooms.”
+
+“It sounds as if it might have been Dick. Was it?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Lorraine replied in a careless tone, suggesting there was no special
+interest attached to the giver, but, for some unknown reason, Hal chose
+to be inquisitive.
+
+“The Three Graces are your only ‘hard-up’ friends, and Quin is down
+east, so he would not know you were ill. Surely Baby didn’t think it at
+all out by himself, and actually go into a shop and buy them?”
+
+“You shouldn’t call Mr. Hermon Baby, Hal; it isn’t quite fair.”
+
+“Oh, yes it is, as long as he is so objectless and purposeless.
+Besides, his face is so cherubic I can’t help it.”
+
+“I call his face very manly.”
+
+“Well, so it is—in a way: but it’s cherubic also; and then he’s so
+dreadfully placid. If he’d only wake up, and boil over about
+something.”
+
+She was silent a few moments, and then said suddenly;
+
+“Do you know Sir Edwin Crathie, Lorraine?”
+
+“No; why? I now of him.”
+
+“What do you know of him?”
+
+“Oh, nothing much. I believe he is a great lady’s man.”
+
+“I’ve met him,” said Hal; and she proceeded to tell of the motor mishap
+and subsequent meeting.
+
+Lorraine was interested and amused, but for some strange reason Hal did
+not tell the tale with her usual gusto, and nothing in her voice or
+manner suggested it was more than the most casual of meetings.
+Lorraine, a little preoccupied with her own feelings, for a wonder did
+not discern that Hal treated the incident with a lightness not quite
+natural, considering how exceedingly unlooked-for it was, and before
+the recital was quite finished Jean looked in to inquire if Lorraine
+would see Mr. Hermon. Lorraine replied in the affirmative, and a moment
+later Alymer Hermon entered the room.
+
+“I’m so sorry you are not well,” he said, in his frank, pleasant way.
+“I only heard of it last night.”
+
+“And then you sent me violets. It was nice of you. I appreciate them so
+much.”
+
+“I guessed Dick,” put in Hal, who had not risen from her stool. “I did
+not think you would have the energy to think of them.”
+
+“I have been feeling rather exhausted since,” he told her lightly.
+
+“Take the arm chair,” said Lorraine smilingly, “and have a good rest.”
+
+“Do,” echoed Hal. “I’m sure you are tired out with your day’s work.”
+
+“Don’t be so superior,” he retorted. “Just because you can type a
+certain number of words per minute, you give yourself such airs.”
+
+“Well, that’s a better reason than the fact of being a few inches
+longer than most people.”
+
+“Now you two,” put in Lorraine, “don’t start quarrelling in such a
+hurry. Try and be nice and polite to each other for a few minutes.”
+
+“Baby doesn’t like me when I’m polite,” said Hal.
+
+“I’ve never had a chance to judge.”
+
+“Liar. What about the first time we met?”
+
+“I thought you were rather nice in those days. Your offensive attitude
+is only of comparatively recent date.”
+
+“Oh, don’t sit there like a stodgy old book-worm, reeling off nicely
+rounded sentences.”
+
+“I hope it might impress you with the incongruity of addressing me as
+an infant.”
+
+Hal looked up from her lowly seat with a mischievous, engaging
+expression.
+
+“You know you really are rather clever in a useless sort of fashion,”
+she informed him.
+
+“Thank you,” making a bow.
+
+“Can’t you tell him how to be clever in a useful sort of fashion, with
+all your practical experience?” suggested Lorraine.
+
+“Oh, I _could_; but what’s the use? he doesn’t want to know. It would
+mean hard work.”
+
+“Give him the benefit of a suggestion, anyhow.”
+
+“Well, other briefless barristers peg away at journalism, and political
+agency work, and coaching, and studying. Baby just sits down and looks
+nice, as if he thought the briefs would come fluttering round him like
+all the silly, pink-cheeked, wide-eyed girls. You ought to have seen
+our little maid the night he dined with us. When she first saw him she
+seemed to mutter ‘O my’ in a breathless fashion, and when she handed
+him his plate, she spilt all the gravy on to his knee, gazing into his
+face.”
+
+Hermon looked a little annoyed. “Very few people can talk absolute rot
+in a clever way,” he aimed at her.
+
+Hal laughed.
+
+“Why, that drew you, Baby! You look quite ruffled. I was only pulling
+your leg: the pink-cheeked girls don’t really flutter round, they run
+away in terror at your scowl. You know he can scowl, Lorraine. At least
+it isn’t exactly a scowl; it’s more a cast-iron solemnity of such
+degree that it has a Medusa-like effect and freezes the poor little
+peach-blossom girls into putty images.”
+
+“I’m sure Mr. Hermon never gives his personal appearance a thought,”
+Lorraine replied, “except when you insist upon harping on it.”
+
+“I can’t help it. I feel he’s hemmed in with such a sticky, treacly,
+simpering amount of youthful adoration generally, that I simply have to
+rag him for his good!”
+
+“It’s very kind of you to be so interested in my welfare”—a twinkle
+gleamed suddenly in his blue eyes—“I certainly like your way of adoring
+the best.”
+
+“Ah”—with an answering twinkle—“I didn’t think you had guessed my
+secret. How embarrassing of you! You have positively driven me away.”
+She rose to her feet. “I must go, Lorry. I can’t sit out any more. He
+has discovered that I adore him.”
+
+“You both seem rather imbecile tonight,” Lorraine commented; “but
+surely it needn’t drive you away, Hal.”
+
+“I must go all the same. We have visitors coming. I shall run in again
+tomorrow. Be sure and ’phone me if there is anything I can do for you.”
+She kissed Lorraine, and turned to Hermon. “Good-bye. Don’t display all
+your best allurements to Lorraine this evening, because she isn’t
+strong enough for it. Remember my unhappy plight, and let one victim
+satisfy you for the present.”
+
+“What about your victims?” he asked. “Dick is kicking the toes of his
+boots thin because he saw you yesterday with Sir Edwin Crathie.”
+
+Hal coloured up, much to her own disgust, and greatly to Hermon’s
+enjoyment, who immediately followed up his advantage with:
+
+“I suppose we shall all have to cry small now, because of the right
+honourable gentleman.”
+
+“It will be a puzzler for you to cry small,” was her rather feeble
+retort, as she passed out.
+
+Hermon came back and reseated himself in the big arm chair.
+
+“May I stay?” he asked, and Lorraine answered:
+
+“Yes, do,” in the frank spirit she had told herself must be her
+attitude towards him.
+
+So he sat on with an air of content, seeming to fill some place in the
+pretty room by right of an old comradeship, or some blood-tie, or a
+mutual understanding—an intangible, indefinable attitude that had
+sprung into being between them of itself.
+
+Lorraine did not talk much, because she was tired, but she let the
+goodly sight of him, and the quiet rest of him, lull and soothe her
+senses for the passing moment without any disturbing questioning.
+Hermon likewise did not question. He liked being there, and she seemed
+willing for him to stay, and it seemed enough.
+
+Once or twice lately he was conscious that he had been rather foolish
+with different admiring friends of the fair sex; and though he was no
+prig, and knew most men took kisses and caressess when offered, and
+would have thought it a needless throwing away of good things to
+refuse, he yet felt a little irritated with himself and the givers
+without quite knowing why.
+
+And there was another trying incident over a girl he had met at various
+country-houses the previous summer, and greatly enjoyed a flirtation
+with. Unfortunately, she appeared not to have understood it in the
+light of a flirtation; and now she was writing him miserable,
+reproachful love-letters which had at any rate succeeded in making him
+wish he had been more circumspect. It soothed his ruffled feelings to
+be with Lorraine; and it flattered his vanity to feel that she liked
+him there.
+
+They had been sitting quietly some little time when the front-door bell
+announced another caller, and Jean came to inquire if her mistress
+would see Lord Denton. Lorraine half unconsciously glanced at Hermon,
+and seeing an expression of disappointment on his face, said quietly.
+“Ask him to come tomorrow, Jean. I am very tired tonight.”
+
+Jean went away, and presently returned with a loverly bouquet of
+malmaisons, and three or four new books. “His lordship will call about
+twelve,” she said: “and he hopes, if you feel able to go out, you will
+let him take you in his motor.” Then she went out, leaving them alone
+again.
+
+In the pause that followed, Lorraine lay silently watching him for some
+minutes, wondering what was passing in his mind. Although it was only
+September still, the evenings were drawing in quickly, and there was
+little light in the room except the flickering glow of cheerful flames
+on the hearth. They caught the glint of his hair and shone on his face,
+throwing the delicate, aristocratic features with cameo-like
+dinstinctness on the black shadow beyond.
+
+Lorraine looked again, with the eyes of a connoisseur, and she knew
+that in very truth no merely handsome face and form were here, but a
+nature and character corresponding to the outward beauty of line and
+lineament. She wondered once more as she lay there what it must be to
+have borne such a son; and a surging, aching, tearing pain filled her
+heart for the longing to have known from experience. She felt she could
+have been a saint among women for very joy, and an ideal companion, as
+well as a mother to such as he.
+
+And instead?—
+
+Well, there were murky corners in the background for her as well as her
+mother, but never from actual seeking. When necessity had not driven
+her, loneliness had, and the gnawing ache of a fine, fearless soul to
+grasp some satisfaction from the sorry scheme of things. And always the
+satisfaction had passed so quickly... so quickly, driving the starved
+soul back on itself again, with a little extra weight added to its
+burden of bitter knowledge.
+
+Was there then no counterpart for her—no twin soul—no strong, true
+comrade, to say “You and I” when sorrow and disillusion came, and so
+rob pain of its deepest sting?
+
+Then, as if he felt her scrutiny, he turned his face to her slowly, and
+looked into her eyes.
+
+“You know you are looking rather bad,” he said a little awkwardly and
+shyly. “I’m awfully sorry. I hope you are taking care of yourself.”
+
+“I don’t suppose I should worry much if left to myself,” she told him,
+with a touch of lightness; “but a very stern physician, and a most
+resolute maid, insist upon giving me every possible attention.”
+
+“It doesn’t tire you… my being here?…”
+
+“No; I like it.”
+
+“I wonder why?”
+
+“Do you always want to know the why of things?”
+
+“I’m afraid I don’t as a rule bother much, but this is a little
+amazing, isn’t it?”
+
+“I don’t see why you should think so.”
+
+He studied the fire again.
+
+“Only that you are at the top of the ladder, and I am at the bottom.”
+
+“I was once there too.”
+
+“And did it seem as if it would be impossible ever to reach the top?”
+
+“Yes, often. I don’t think anything but resolute, iron determination
+ever takes any one up. Influence helps a good many up the lower rungs,
+and saves them a lot of the drudgery, but it cannot do much else, and
+unless one is full of grit and purpose at heart, one sticks there.”
+
+“Still, it must be a great help to be pulled through the drudgery.”
+
+“It may mean a good deal of loss also.”
+
+“How?”
+
+“I don’t suppose success that is won through favour means half so much
+to the winner as success that is wrenched from Fate by one’s own
+resolute hands. The only thing is, one wonders so often afterwards if
+it has been worth while.”
+
+“Do you wonder that?”
+
+“Ah!… don’t I?”
+
+He said nothing, and she went on:
+
+“All the same, I imagine I had to succeed or die. I was built that way.
+Nothing less than success would have satisfied me. I often crave for
+quiet, restful happiness now, but if it had been offered then I should
+have passed it by and struggled blindly for fame. Still, it is hard to
+think how easily one can take a false step, and suffer for it till the
+end.”
+
+“Did you do that?”
+
+He turned his eyes to her again, and she saw as sympathy in them that
+was deeper than any feeling he had shown her yet.
+
+“Yes. I was in a very tight corner, and I took a short cut out. I
+married for money and influence. The step brought me all I anticipated,
+but it brought other things as well, that I had chosen not to remember:
+nausea, ennui, self-disgust, loneliness, emptiness. I think I should
+never have won through without Hal.”
+
+“And is your husband living?”
+
+“Yes. In America. We have not troubled each other for a long time. I
+suppose I am fortunate in being left alone.” She was silent a few
+minutes, and then she told him kindly: “Hal says they always chaff you
+about marrying an heiress, for the sake of being rich without any need
+to work; but take my advice, and don’t force the hand of Fate before
+she has had time to give you good things in her own time.”
+
+He turned to her with a very engaging smile as he answered:
+
+“They chaff me about a good many things, but most of them are a little
+wide of the mark. I haven’t any leaning at present towards a paid post
+as husband.”
+
+“I’m glad; but I didn’t for a moment suppose you had seriously. I
+wonder what you have a leaning towards?” she added.
+
+“I should like to succeed.” He sat forward suddenly and leaned his chin
+on his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared hard at the
+flames. “I care a great deal more about succeeding really than any one
+believes; but I’m afraid I’m not cut out for it.”
+
+“I should like to help you,” she said simply.
+
+“You are very good,” he answered, still looking hard into the fire.
+
+Lorraine got up and moved slowly about the room, touching a flower
+here, and a flower there, and rearranging them with deft fingers. She
+turned on an electric light with a soft shade, and glanced at the books
+Flip Denton had brought her.
+
+Hermon sat back in his chair and watched her. He thought he had never
+seen her lovelier than she looked in the homely simplicity of a
+graceful tea-gown, and her thick black hair coiled in a large loose
+knot low on her neck. It gave her an absurdly youthful air, that
+somehow seemed far removed from the brilliant star as he knew her on
+the stage.
+
+Then she came towards him, and stood beside him, resting one foot on
+the fender and one hand on the mantelpiece; and he saw, with swift
+seeing, the shapeliness of the long, thin fingers and the graceful,
+rounded arm.
+
+“You are thoughtful, _mon ami_,” she said, with a soft lightness. “Tell
+me what you are thinking of.”
+
+“I don’t know. I don’t think I am thinking at all. I feel rather as if
+I were sunning myself in your smiles, like a cat.”
+
+“You like being here, like this?”
+
+“I love it.”
+
+“Then come often. Why not?”
+
+“I shall bore you.”
+
+“I think not. It is pleasant to me also to have some one keeping me
+company in such a natural, homely way. You see, I am very much alone. I
+have no women friends except Hal, who is nearly always engaged; and
+there are not many men one can invite to come and sit by one’s
+fireside. You seem to come so naturally and simply. It is clever of
+you. Very few men could. It is difficult to believe you are only
+twenty-four.”
+
+“I fancy years often do not go for very much. I have travelled about
+alone a great deal. Anyhow, you are just as young for thirty-two as I
+am old for twenty-four.”
+
+“Hal has helped to keep me young. She restores me like some patent
+elixir. I suppose I love her more than any one in the world.”
+
+“I’m not surprised,” he answered. “A good many people love Hal. Dick
+and Quin just dote on her.”
+
+She looked at him keenly a moment.
+
+“I am spared wasting my affection,” he added, “by her obvious contempt
+for me.”
+
+“She doesn’t mean any of it. She only wants to rouse you.”
+
+“Still, she succeeds in making me feel rather a worm.”
+
+Lorraine made no comment, but she could not resist a little inward
+smile at the thought of any one making such a man feel a worm. She
+realised there might be no harm in the leavening influence.
+
+The clock struck seven, and he gave a start, rising quickly to his feet
+beside her. Lorraine was a little under medium height if anything, and
+as they stood together he seemed to tower above her like some splendid
+prehistoric human, while she appeared as some exquisite miniature, or
+frail and perfect piece of Dresden china.
+
+And again it seemed as if his physical beauty acted upon her with some
+irresistible magnetism, flowing round her and over her and through her,
+till she was enveloped and obsessed by him.
+
+His age was nothing, years are mere detail; she felt only that he was a
+splendid creature, and everything in her gloried in it. She rested her
+hand lightly on his arm.
+
+“How big you are. You almost overpower me.”
+
+He smiled down at her, but it was just a quiet, friendly smile, and she
+could not tell if her touch stirred him.
+
+“I’m afraid I am rather a monster. It is sometimes a nuisance.”
+
+“Ah, don’t say that. I am quite sure the first Adam was as big as you,
+and Eve was frightened and ran away, but she wouldn’t for the world
+have had him an inch smaller. And every true Eve since has gloried in
+the man who towered above her, and was a little terrifying in his
+strength. Don’t let them spoil you,” she added with a note of
+wistfulness, “all the Eves who must needs follow with or without your
+bidding.”
+
+“I imagine Hal will counteract much of that; and the feeling, when I am
+with you, that I am just a great, brainless, useless animal.”
+
+“No; you are not that; and you are quite extraordinarily unspoilt as
+yet. Come and see me again soon, when you’ve nothing better to do.”
+
+“How soon?”
+
+He was looking hard into her face now, almost as if he were only just
+fully realising her beauty, and she flushed a little as she met his
+ardent eyes and answered:
+
+“As soon as you like.”
+
+“Friday is my first free evening.”
+
+“The come and dine here quietly. I shall not act this week at all. I
+shall run down to the sea from Saturday to Monday.”
+
+She had intended to go on Friday afternoon, but with his nearness all
+Flip Denton’s sage advice vanished from her mind, and instead of
+running away as he urged, she went a step nearer to the temptation.
+
+When he had gone she sat down in the arm chair he had used, and stared
+hard at the fire. Jean came in to urge her to go to bed, but she only
+said:
+
+“No; I like this room and the fire. Bring me the fish, or whatever it
+is, here. I will go to bed about half-past eight if you like, but not
+before.”
+
+So she sat on, and in her heart she saw still the fine face, with its
+unspoiled freshness, and felt his presence still filling the room.
+
+It would seem Fate had brought her and Hal together into the arena of
+new happenings and new feelings, for among the crowded houses of
+Bloomsbury, in a little high-up bedroom near the sky, Hal sat on the
+edge of her bed leisurely brushing her long, bright hair, and pondering
+a telephone message that had asked her to go for a motor ride the
+following Saturday.
+
+“It means putting Amy off,” was her final cogitation, “but I think I’ll
+go. It will be such fun, and I’m rather sick of work.”
+
+So, in spite of strong wills and common-sense warning, we still, as
+ever, let our footsteps follow the alluring paths, and go boldly forth
+to meet a joy, ever careless of the following sorrow that may accompany
+it, until the hour of shunning is past.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The following Friday afternoon Lorraine went out with Flip Denton in
+his motor, and among his first questions was:
+
+“Well, how is the foolish falling in love progressing?”
+
+“It is stationary. I’ve got another friend I want to keep, Flip;
+another friend like you.”
+
+“Ah, I can’t pass that. You were never even remotely in sight of
+falling in love with me. And you know what Kipling says: ‘Love’s like
+line-work; you can’t stand still, you must go backward or forward.’ You
+don’t propose to take my advice and run away from it?”
+
+“Not before I am sure there is danger, anyhow.”
+
+They were silent some moments, then she asked him:
+
+“Do men ever run away, Flip?... My experience has been that the average
+man always has a good try to get what he wants, without much
+consideration for outside things, or for youth, or for harm.”
+
+“That’s because beautiful women necessarily come up against the worst
+in men. It is their fate: one of the balancing conditions perhaps to
+make things more even with the less-favoured women.”
+
+“I suppose great beauty generally undoes a woman. Is it the same with
+men too? It seems a pity when Nature produces anything beautiful she
+should not guard it better—beautiful flowers, beautiful birds,
+beautiful creatures all ravished the quickest; while the little,
+comfortable daisies, and sparrows, and homely people go serenely on
+unharmed.”
+
+He did not reply, and they sped along in the understanding silence they
+were both so fond of.
+
+Denton was thinking, as a man may, of various pretty faces that had
+been the undoing of their owners, and wondering a little dimly and
+confusedly about the paradoxical contrariness of Nature, who gives a
+man his strongest desires nearly always towards forbidden ends. Why
+create a beautiful thing, and then create a longing for it, and then
+probably descend in wrath upon both heads which did but follow the bent
+she herself had given them?
+
+Lorraine was wondering a little bitterly why a man may taste forbidden
+fruit again and again and go unpunished; and why a woman, so often set
+amid sterner temptations, was yet left so strangely unprotected: the
+one so quickly able to put an incident aside, and seek fresh fields for
+conquest; the other so terribly liable to be branded for life in that
+same incident.
+
+It made a bitterness surge up in her soul for her own unprotected
+girlhood and struggling youth; and for all they had brought her to
+learn of the tree of knowledge. No doubt she had been callous enough
+about it at the time; eager only to dare, and triumph, and achieve; but
+how should it have been otherwise, since no kindly guiding hand had
+told her she was wasting her powers and her substance to achieve an end
+that would never satisfy her soul?
+
+Did she even know she had a soul that would presently crave a
+satisfaction found only among the higher and better things, and turn
+away with infinite scorn from the petty triumphs of an hour or a day?
+
+Well, she had fought her fight with the rest, and triumphed greatly in
+the world’s eyes; and now she must abide by the path she had chosen,
+and glean the best satisfaction she could out of it.
+
+And yet—
+
+Later in the afternoon, when she sat drinking a lonely cup of tea by a
+lonely fireside, the questioning, probing mood returned again; the
+significant “and yet” still left the last conclusion without any
+finality. Looking backward, a sense of resentment seemed to creep over
+her; a combative desire to get even with Fate about many things while
+there was time and opportunity.
+
+She remembered particularly the first man who had tried to lead her
+astray. He had been considerably more than twice her age, a hardened
+sinner without any compunction, with a devilish cunning at breaking
+down defences without any seeming over-persuasion, and at whitewashing
+his actions into passionate devotion to youngn inexperienced years. She
+remembered how she had struggled to resist him. It was good to remember
+now that she had not been his victim.
+
+And yet, what of it, while such men could triumph again and again and
+go seemingly unpunished, and young, eager, ambitious souls were often
+so pitifully stranded at the beginning of a career?
+
+Men of his age and his character usually did triumph. How often had she
+seen it since! The first wrong step not a generous-hearted, hot-headed
+youth; but a hardened sinner who had wearied of other hardened sinners
+and turned his evil designs to youth and freshness, hoping perchance to
+be rejuvenated thereby.
+
+And Nature stood by with folded hands, and saw her fairest creations
+soiled and ravished before they had reached maturity, without
+apparently the smallest compunction.
+
+Her first wrong step had been her marriage, and though it had given her
+a good deal in the beginning, in the end how it had robbed her!... ah!
+how it had robbed her of those things that could never be won back.
+
+And now, by an unlooked-for turn of events, she found herself among the
+world-wearied ones, asking for the divine freshness of youth. If she
+chose to make him love her she believed she could.
+
+And yet?—
+
+She stood beside the window and leaned her head against the framework,
+gazing at the river. It was gliding smoothly along now, beautified and
+glorified by the reflected light of a setting sun. How light
+transfigured!
+
+The murky, muddy, sullen Thames, so often going with its countless
+burdens, as one enslaved unwillingly to the needs of commerce, now
+flashing, shining, silver waters hastening joyfully out to sea. She
+felt that often and often her life had been as the shadowed, murky
+waters, enslaved unwillingly by bonds that circumstances had created.
+
+She thought how his life, the life of this man who was beginning to
+fill her soul, was still like the joyous, shining, waters reflecting
+sunlight. Was it possible she wanted to bring the shadows and dim its
+silver radiance for her own gratifications?
+
+And even so, was it in any case likely to go undimmed much longer? The
+shadows were certain enough to come, if not through her, perhaps
+through some one with less soul, and less fineness of aim, who would do
+him far greater harm. Her love for him was not, at least, entirely
+selfish.
+
+She knew that she cared very much for his future. She cared very much
+that life should give him a chance to fulfill the best of his promise.
+
+And if the chance came by shadows, well, across the river of a man’s
+life they flitted lightly enough as a rule, chasing each other away,
+and leaving the waters still flowing joyfully. It was only for a woman,
+apparently, the shadows left a stain that even the sunlight could not
+chase away.
+
+It would seem woman was made a helpmeet for man in many ways beside
+that of keeping his home and bearing his children. How often did he owe
+his best development and best achievements to her, absorbing light from
+her in some mysterious ordering, and soaring away afterwards while she
+was left among the shadows.
+
+Yet, by some equally mysterious compensation, a woman was often so
+fashioned that if she could feel the upward flight was won through her,
+she might rest statisfied even though him she loved had soared away. It
+was the mother-love blending strangely with the wife-love; the
+protecting, inspiring, unselfish, mothering instinct, lying in the soul
+of every true-hearted woman.
+
+Standing gazing at the flashing river, Lorraine, in the midst of her
+probing, knew that it was his ultimate success and good she wanted, as
+well as his freshness to sweeten her own life.
+
+And yet?—
+
+What if she brought a shadow where there would otherwise have been no
+shadow, dimmed a brightness that, without her, had gone undimmed? She
+knew he was not weak naturally. He did not need any strengthening; only
+impetus, ambition, aim, and some safeguarding by the way.
+
+She smiled a little drearily at the recollection that it was from her,
+herself, that probably his own people would think he needed
+safeguarding. She could foresee that they would likely enough hurl
+themselves between him and her, oblivious that by doing so they might
+very possibly be the cause of driving him to far worse. But that, of
+course, no one could help; as how should they know the fine shades
+between the women who lived outside the conventions?
+
+But then again, they need not know that the great friendship
+existed—why should they? After all, few would credit the celebrated,
+beautiful actress with anything beyond a passing fancy for the
+youthful, briefless barrister.
+
+And yet?—
+
+Across every fresh pathway she turned her thoughts along, was still
+that arresting, intangible, “and yet”.
+
+The pity of it! At least he was strong, and true, and unspoilt now. Why
+not give life a chance to leave him so?
+
+Why not give Fate a chance to endow him quickly with the rich, blessed
+love that kept a man walking straight and strong along his steadfast
+way?
+
+But again the thought came back of what he would lose, what he must
+inevitably lose, if he missed the storm and stress and struggle that
+are as the mill and furnace through which the gold is refined, and
+hardened, and separated from the dross.
+
+She went back to the fireside feeling that her probing had brought her
+nowhither, and that she was only very tired and very depressed.
+
+Then she went slowly away to dress, and chose, somewhat to Jean’s
+surprise, one of the simplest evening frocks she possessed. Jean,
+knowing the tall, beautiful new friend was coming to dinner, had laid
+out an elaborate dinner-dress, and arranged the jewel cases for
+selection.
+
+“Put them away at once,” was all her mistress said, with one sweeping
+glance round. “I shall wear that little blue Liberty gown and a single
+row of pearls.”
+
+When Alymer came he found her already seated by the fire, engaged with
+some knitting.
+
+“How nice and homely,” he said. “I never associated you with anything
+so commonplace as sewing.”
+
+“I’m afraid I can’t sew very well,” with a little smile. “I can knit
+this, and that is about all.”
+
+“Are you better?” and he scanned her face critically, in an
+old-fashioned way that gave her secret joy.
+
+“Yes, sir, thank you,” with a low laugh.
+
+He laughed too, and took up his stand on the hearthrug, with his hands
+behind his back, in a natural, quite-at-home way, that seemed to come
+easily to him.
+
+“How jolly it is to see a fire. My mater always seems afraid of
+beginning too soon. I think she has a sort of feeling that if winter
+sees fires started he will hurry.”
+
+“I never leave them off. My fire is one of my staunchest companions. An
+empty grate always depresses me, because if it is sunny and hot I want
+to be out-of-doors, and if it is not, I want my fire. Let us go to
+dinner, then we can get back and purr over it to our hearts’ content.”
+
+Because it pleased her to make him an honoured guest, Lorraine had been
+at considerable pains in ordering her dinner, and she was gratified to
+observe that it was not wasted on him.
+
+Certainly, among other things at Oxford he had learnt to know a good
+dinner and good wine, and enjoy them as a connoisseur. It amused her
+also to observe that the old-fashioned air with which he had inquired a
+little masterfully after her health, grew upon him as the evening
+progressed.
+
+She thought he must be a little bit of a tyrant to his mother, and any
+one he was specially fond of. Not dictatorially so, but with a
+humorous, half-satirical insistence that was very engaging.
+
+When the sat over the fire together, later, she found herself telling
+him many things about her early struggles, and first successes, not in
+the least in a “talking down” attitude, but as to a very sympathetic
+companion of her own age.
+
+It was evident he was truly interested, and this made him a charming
+listener. And he told her yet further of his own hopes, and
+disappointments, and discouragements. Several times since he took his
+degree, one friend or another had held out hopeful expectations of
+being able to put him on to this case of that, which might bring a
+brief. And always the hope had failed, and the promise ended in smoke.
+
+She gave him sympathy in her turn, and said she would not raise his
+expectations unkindly, but she believed she could really help him to
+get a start. She would speak to Lord Denton about it. He was always
+ready to do a little thing like that for her.
+
+“He is one of those dear people,” she told him, “who seem to try to
+make up for their own incorrigible laziness by going out of their way
+to put some one else in the way of a start.”
+
+She saw the colour deepen in his face, and a subdued light shine in his
+eyes, as he thanked her rather haltingly. The little show of diffidence
+was very charming. How far removed, how amazingly far removed he was
+from the average good-looking youth of twenty-four, who was usually so
+anxious to impress every one with his attributes and his powers.
+
+And he was not even average. Every time she saw him she wondered afresh
+at his extraordinary wealth of attraction. One could have forgiven him
+a few airs and mannerisms; but no forgiveness was asked: in every
+single phrase she found him always the modest, unassuming, high-bred
+gentleman.
+
+So they sat on and talked, and for the time being the warfare of the
+afternoon passed from her mind. Probing seemed suddenly out of place.
+Why probe?... Their friendship had slipped of itself into an old
+companionship. What need for more? She knew instinctively he would come
+often to fill her lonely hours, and tell her all about his work and his
+doings.
+
+And sometimes they would go out together on little jaunts. If they did,
+who need know, or who, at any rate, need gossip? She felt a gladness
+grow in her mind at the thought of the happy friendship they might
+have; guarded perhaps from harm by the disparity in their years, and at
+the same time of inestimable benefit to him, and pleasure to her. She
+felt almost motherly as she laid her fingers lightly on his arm, with a
+little laughing jest, as they stood together before parting.
+
+“I have enjoyed my evening of invalidism so much. Come and see me again
+soon, won’t you?”
+
+“I should love to. You are very good to me.”
+
+“Oh, no; I’m not. Don’t let us talk of goodness in that way. I like
+your company; and it is good to have what one likes. I shall expect you
+again soon, Alymer—I may call you Alymer, mayn’t I?... Mr. Hermon is so
+overpowering.”
+
+“I wish you would. I would have asked you, only I was afraid you might
+think it cheek.”
+
+“Very well then, _Alymer_,” with emphasis, “when I have spoken to Lord
+Denton I will telephone you; and I hope he will be able to start you
+off on a road that will very nearly end in a verdict of ‘Suffocated
+with briefs.’”
+
+“Or ‘briefly suffocated’,” he laughed, and beat a hasty retreat, for
+fear of a reprisal.
+
+When he had gone, Lorraine sat again in the firelight, and it seemed as
+if the stress and unrest had fallen from her, and only the memory of a
+pleasant companionship remained. They were going to be the best of
+pals—why not—and why seek to probe any further?
+
+Apparently he was not susceptible, and cared more for his profession
+than any one supposed, and so, since she liked to have him there to
+glory in his comeliness, they could form a mutual benefit society, and
+no one need be hurt at all. It was all quite simple, and she went to
+bed feeling rested and refreshed, and looking forward hopefully for the
+pleasant meetings to come?
+
+Flip Denton was running down to Brighton for the weekend also, to take
+her out on the Sunday in his car; and he noticed at once that a shadow
+which had hovered over her eyes of late had vanished.
+
+“You are looking topping,” he told her. “What about the love affair, is
+it all satisfactorily off? It has been worrying you a little of late.”
+
+“It is not exactly off,” she replied, “but it is more satisfactorily
+placed. We are going to be real good pals. He is going to keep me
+company in some of my lonely hours, and I am going to try and help him
+to get briefs. I am relying on you for the first one, Flip.”
+
+“The dickens you are. My dear girl, why should I put myself out to
+acquire a brief for a rival?”
+
+“Oh, just because you are you. You know you will love it, Flip! You
+will get him a brief, and then you will pat yourself on the back and
+say: ‘I know I’m a lazy dog myself, but I’m a devil of a good chap at
+getting other fellows work.’”
+
+“So I am”—enjoying her thrust—“and it’s a splendid line, and gives far
+more satisfaction in the end. If I tried to work I should only make a
+mess of it, and drive some one nearly crazy, whereas, in putting
+another chap on to a job I give such a lot of folks pleasure, I feel I
+am getting square with the Almighty.”
+
+“Then you’ll try, Flip?”
+
+“It is humanly possible, he shall have a brief of his very own within
+the next month.”
+
+“You are a dear. Sometimes I think you are the most adorable person I
+know.”
+
+“You don’t think it long enough at a time, Lorry. You are too prone to
+go off suddenly after false gods measuring six-foot-five-and-a-half
+inches and with the faces of Apollo Belvederes.”
+
+“Probably it is a merciful precaution on the part of our guardian
+angels, Flip; and, anyhow, you know you like a little variation
+yourself in the way of bulk, and sound, practical, indecorous chorus
+girldom.”
+
+“I do,” was his unabashed affirmative. “Nice, comfortable, elevating
+palliness with you; and a right down rollicking bust-up occasionally
+with the ladies of the unpretending school of wild oats.”
+
+“I want my giant for the present to be satisfied with his palliness
+with me and his work. Do you think he will?”
+
+“As I haven’t seen him I can’t say. If I get the chance, however, I’ll
+tell him that ‘wild oats’ are the very devil, and I’d give all I’ve got
+to have stuck to work and had naught to do with ’em.”
+
+“You know you wouldn’t, Flip,” with a little laugh.
+
+“I know I couldn’t, you mean; but I never admit it to juniors.”
+
+“Well, you shall come to the flat to meet him. If he gets a brief,
+we’ll have a little dinner party, and I’ll ask Hal and her cousin and
+St. Quintin.”
+
+“Right you are. I haven’t seen Miss Pritchard for ages. Shall we turn
+now, and go back by Rottingdean?”
+
+“Let us go whichever way has the best view of the sea. I feel I want to
+look at wide, breezy spaces for a while, and not talk at all.”
+
+“You shall,” he promised, and they sped along in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+When Hall sat on the side of her bed, brushing her hair and meditating
+on her irritation, she had not misjudged when she anticipated great
+enjoyment from an afternoon run with her new friend.
+
+It would have been difficult indeed to say who enjoyed it the most. Hal
+was in great form, and Sir Edwin Crathie half unconsciously took his
+tone from her, dropping his usual attitude towards women he liked, and
+adopting instead one as gay and careless and inconsequent as hers.
+
+It was not in the nature of the man to desist from flirting with her,
+but his pretty speeches were coupled with a humour and chaff that
+robbed them of any pointedness, and merely resulted in an amusing
+amount of parry and thrust, over which they both laughed
+whole-heartedly.
+
+“You are an absolute witch,” he told her as they sat enjoying a big tea
+at an hotel on the south coast; “ever since we started you have made me
+behave more or less like a school-boy, and a tea like this is the
+climax.”
+
+“It’s a good thing I am the only witness,” she laughed. “The poorness
+of your jokes alone would have horrified your colleagues, but to see
+you eating such a tea must have meant a request for your resignation—it
+is so incompatible with the dignity of a Cabinet Minister.”
+
+“I had almost forgotten I was a Cabinet Minister. Gad! but it’s nice to
+get right away from the cares of office occasionally like this. When
+will you come again?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t think I must come any more,” roguishly. “I’m sure Brother
+Dudley will not consent.”
+
+“What has Brother Dudley go to do with it?… Did he consent this time?”
+
+“Not exactly. I anticipated his willingness.”
+
+“You little fibber. You mean you anticipated his firm refusal, and took
+French leave, so that you need not disobey him.”
+
+“It is true that Dudley and I differ occasionally, but I do not disobey
+him… if I can help it.”
+
+“Well, if you took French leave this time, you can easily do it again.”
+
+“But this time it was a novelty. I was curious to find out how I should
+enjoy an afternoon with you?”
+
+“Rubbish. You knew perfectly well you would enjoy it immensely. So did
+I. Two people who like each other always know those kind of things at
+once.”
+
+Hal leaned back in her chair, and her expressive mouth twitched in a
+way that made him long to kiss it hard.
+
+“There are occasions when I don’t like you at all,” she said.
+
+“Fibber again. When don’t you like me?”
+
+“Chiefly when you are quite positive certain sure that I do.”
+
+“Well, that is never; so you are a fibber.”
+
+“I thought you seemed particularly confident nine seconds ago.”
+
+“I was only teasing you. I could hardly have been serious after you
+have called me a worm, and an old man. So now—when will you come
+again?”
+
+“In about a month. Let’s go out as Guys on the fifth of November.”
+
+“A month be blowed! I want to know which day next week?”
+
+“I am full up next week.”
+
+“Full up of what?”
+
+“Lorraine Vivian, Dick Bruce, Quin, the Beloved Chief, and the Baby.”
+
+“What a list! Is Lorraine Vivian the actress? Who are Quin and the
+Baby?”
+
+“She is… and they are!…”
+
+“Who does the Baby belong to?”
+
+“It would be difficult to say. About a dozen probably claim him.”
+
+“And doesn’t he know his own mother?”
+
+“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of mothers.”
+
+“Who were you thinking of?”
+
+“The ladies who have lost their hearts to him.”
+
+“I see. Are you one of them?”
+
+“I am not. You see, his beauty has never struck me all of a heap,
+because I’ve got so used to it.”
+
+“Is he a beautiful baby, or a youth, or a man?”
+
+“A bit of all three. He stands 6 ft. 5 ½ in., and is superbly handsome.
+I call him sometimes, for variation, the stuffed blue-and-gold Apollo.”
+
+“Well, that’s better than ‘a positive worm’,” laughing, “but I don’t
+mind him. Who is Quin?”
+
+“Quin is a philanthropist, sentimentalist, and hero. He spends his life
+working in the East End.”
+
+“I don’t mind him either, and Dick Bruce I’ve seen. The actress doesn’t
+count, and your precious chief you see every day. Now, then, when will
+you come again?”
+
+He got up from his seat and came round to her side of the table. He had
+a vague intention of imprisoning her hand, and perhaps her waist, but
+some indescribable quality held him off. It was difficult to suppose
+she did not half guess what was in his mind, and yet, without showing
+the smallest consciousness or shyness, she faced him with a look so
+boyishly frank and open it utterly disarmed him.
+
+“I am not a bit more persuasive on my right side than my left, and I
+have promised next Saturday to the Three Graces—who are Dick and Quin
+and Baby. We are going to the Crystal Palace to see a football match.”
+
+“Then what about Sunday?”
+
+“Oh, I can’t come on Sunday.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I hardly know, except that it usually belongs to Dudley or Dick.”
+
+“Next Sunday needn’t.”
+
+“Well, that’s what I don’t know.”
+
+“Yes you do.” He moved a little nearer. “You’ve got to keep next Sunday
+for me. It’s my turn. We’ll have a splendid day. We’ll take Peter, and
+we’ll start early and fly down to the New Forest. It’s glorious in the
+autumn. We’ll have a picnic-lunch, and tea at an hotel on the way back.
+So that’s settled.” He got up, and lifted her ulster from the back of a
+chair. “Now come along, and we’ll slip home before it gets late enough
+to cause trouble.”
+
+Hal let it pass for the time, and got into her ulster. She was clever
+enough to see the advantage of retaining a way of escape if she changed
+her mind, or accepting the invitation if she wanted to later on.
+
+She knew perfectly well a girl did not always go out for a whole day
+with a man like Sir Edwin with impunity; but she had also something of
+contempt for a girl who missed a great treat for want of pluck. She
+preferred to leave the question open, and if she badly wanted to go at
+the end of the week she would not, at any rate, stay away because she
+was afraid.
+
+As it happened, circumstances played into Sir Edwin Crathie’s hands.
+About Wednesday, with a diffidence that made Hal secretly amused and
+secretly curious, Dudley asked her if she would mind if he was away for
+the whole day on Sunday. As she was generally away herself as long as
+the summer lasted, she wondered why he should ask her in that manner.
+It was just as they had finished breakfast, and he busied himself with
+his pipe-rack as he made the announcement.
+
+“Of course I don’t mind,” she said. “Are you going into the country?”
+
+“Ye-es.” He seemed about to add something further, but changed his
+mind. Hal, with a little inward chuckle, divined by his manner he must
+be going somewhere with a lady, and she was pleased, as she liked a man
+to have woman friends, believing they made him more broad-minded and
+tolerant and generous-hearted if well-chosen.
+
+She asked no further question, however, and Dudley commenced to whistle
+softly as he drew on his boots. Evidently his mind was somewhat
+relieved after the sentence was said.
+
+So now it remained to discover Dick’s attitude. She could, of course,
+quite easily put him off; but she was not quite prepared to do this of
+her own initiative, as he had so generously placed all his Sundays at
+her disposal. On Friday, however, he was speaking to her through the
+telephone.
+
+“I say, Hal, you’re coming to the Footer match tomorrow, aren’t you?”
+
+“Yes, of course I am. Why?...”
+
+“Well, it’s just this way. I was going to motor the pater to Aunt
+Judith’s, and I forgot all about it. He wants me to take him on Sunday
+instead. What shall I do?... Would you care to come too?”
+
+Hal had not the smallest wish to go to Aunt Judith’s, who belonged to
+the old school, and disapproved in a most outspoken manner of
+lady-clerks of every sort and description. It was a constant grievance
+to her, when she set eyes on Hal,that she did not gratefully accept £20
+as secretary to a well-known, interesting editor.
+
+In consequence, Hal encountered her as little as possible, accepted
+gratefully her interesting, easy billet, and consigned the imaginary
+young children to a Hades peopled with nursery governesses.
+
+“Awfully sweet and good and kind of you, Dicky dear,” she called back
+to him mockingly, “but I think I’ll practise a little self-denial this
+time, and stay away.”
+
+“Odd you should say that,” he laughed, “because I consider I’m
+practising a little self-denial in going. What shall you do with
+yourself? Will Dudley be at home?”
+
+“No; he’s going somewhere for the day, that has a nervous, apologetic
+sort of air about it. I didn’t press for particulars, but I’m dying to
+know. I can’t believe he would really take a gay young person out, and
+yet, judging by his manner, it might be a real flyer from Daly’s.”
+
+“Good old Dudley!... Then I suppose you will go to Lorraine?”
+
+“Yes, I daresay I shall. Good-bye, see you Saturday.”
+
+Hal returned to her work in a meditative mood. She was beginning to
+wonder why she had not had any message from Sir Edwin all the week. Had
+he changed his mind, or had he possibly forgotten? If he rang her up
+presently what was she going to say?
+
+The notion that he had perhaps forgotten was not pleasing; and yet,
+with all he must have to think about during the week, it was equally
+not surprising. As a matter of fact, it had been a most trying week for
+all Ministers.
+
+The party was emphatically growing into disfavour, and all brains had
+to be utilised to find the most efficacious remedy. Sir Edwin had been
+very useful in his suggestions, for he had had considerable practice in
+getting what he wanted by artfulness if no straighter mode offered.
+
+His suggestions to His Majesty’s Cabinet were masterpieces of political
+trickery, and their adoption was a foregone conclusion in spite of the
+Ministers who raised objections. The party had to win back favour
+somehow, and at any rate his were the best plans that offered.
+
+But all through the stirring meetings of the week he never once forgot
+Hal. His silence was merely an adaptation of the policy he was urging
+upon his colleagues. “If I leave her alone till Friday she will get
+piqued,” was his thought, “and then she will come.”
+
+Accordingly, soon after the luncheon hour he rang her up.
+
+“Hullo,” he called. “At last I have got a moment to speak to you.”
+
+“What has happened to all the other moments?” she asked.
+
+“We’ve had a very anxious, worrying week in the House. I’ve scarcely
+had time to get my meals. You surely didn’t suppose I had forgotten
+you—did you?”
+
+“I didn’t suppose either way. It didn’t matter.”
+
+The man at the other end of the wire smiled openly in his empty room.
+“Prevaricator,” was his thought “but, by Gad, she’s game.”
+
+“Well, anyhow I hadn’t, and I wasn’t likely to. I only hope you haven’t
+made another engagement for Sunday? I’m badly in need of a long day in
+the country. Are you still free?”
+
+“It depends—”
+
+“Oh, nonsense; you can’t desert me at the last moment. If I can’t get
+that day off to run down to the New Forest, I shall have to go to a
+tiresome political luncheon party. Now, be patriotic, and serve your
+country by attending to the needs of one of her harassed Ministers.”
+
+“I am always patriotic.”
+
+“Then that settles it. I suppose I’d better not call for you. I’ll pick
+you up at South Kensington Station at 9.30. Peter will make an
+excellent chaperone, so you needn’t worry—good-bye”; and he rang off,
+leaving Hal to hang up the receiver, not quite sure whether she had
+been trapped or not.
+
+At his end he moved across to a window with the smile still lingering
+on his face.
+
+“Nothing like making up a woman’s mind for her,” he mused; “they’re all
+alike when they are on the edge of the stream, hesitating about the
+plunge. Give ’em a little shove, and once they’re in they swim out
+boldly enough. The trouble is, when they want to keep the whole river
+for themselves and will not brook any other swimmers.
+
+“I expect I’m going to have a devil of a time with Gladys, and she’ll
+take a lot of squaring. Women are the deuce when you’re short of funds.
+But I can’t help being susceptible, and Hal has caught my fancy
+altogether. Dear little girl, I expect she’ll want a big shove yet
+before she’ll take the real plunge. But it’s interesting, by Jove! it’s
+interesting; and when she looks a veiled defiance at me with those
+candid, mischievous eyes of hers, I know I’ve got to win somehow.”
+
+Hal went back to her work, feeling a little as if she had been swept
+off her feet; and she was not entirely without misgivings. The possible
+impropriety of going out alone with a man for the whole day did not
+trouble her, but the nature of the man, she was shrewd enough to
+perceive, was a doubtful point.
+
+Of course she was perfectly aware that Aunt Judith, for instance, and
+Dudley, and probably her mother, had she been alive, would have been
+scandalised at such a proceeding; but then she had pluckily fended for
+herself so long, she did not consider she was any longer called upon to
+mould her actions according to their views. She belonged to the large
+army of women who have to spend so much of their time on office chairs
+that their comparatively few hours of pleasure have no room for the
+ordinary conventions that hem round the leisured, home-walled maiden.
+
+If a treat offered, and it was reasonably within bounds, they took it
+and were thankful and gave no thought to the possibly uplifted hands of
+horror among possibly restricted relatives. She was one of those who
+enjoy the freedom of the American girl, without being of those who,
+unfortunately, often fall short of her level-headed characteristics;
+largely perhaps through those very uplifted hands which suggest harm,
+where harm otherwise might never have been thought of.
+
+It was not, now, any suggestions born of uplifted hands that gave Hal
+that faint misgiving. It was that growing doubt concerning the nature
+of the man, and a consciousness that she was unduly pleased the treat
+was actually to take place—a growing consciousness that in spite of the
+doubt she cared more about seeing Sir Edwin Crathie than most men, with
+a like recognition that this might seriously endanger her own peace of
+mind.
+
+It was all very well to go out together on a basis of good-fellowship
+and mutual enjoyment, so long as neither cared anything beyond; but
+what if this unmistakable attraction he exercised over her deepened and
+widened? What if the commonplace, middle-class Hal Pritchard, secretary
+and typist, fell in love with Sir Edwin Crathie, the Cabinet Minister,
+and nephew of Lord St. Ives?
+
+But she thrust the thought away, and apostrophised herself for a silly
+goose, who deserved to get hurt if she had not more sense. Was he not
+twice her age, and brilliantly clever (so his own party said), and so
+obviously out of her range altogether that it would be sheer stupidity
+to allow herself to feel anything beyond the frank fellow-ship they now
+enjoyed? She insisted vigorously to herself that it would, and went off
+to have dinner with Lorraine, who was once more delighting her London
+audience nightly.
+
+It was a curious thing which occured to both afterwards, that there had
+been some indefinable change, observable in each to each, dating from
+that particular evening.
+
+Lorraine was more contentedly gay than she had been for some time—a
+quiet, natural light-heartedness, born of some attainment that was
+giving her joy. Hal was not clever enough to actually perceive this,
+but she did perceive that a certain restless, anxious indecision of
+manner and plans had passed away. For the time being Lorraine was happy
+in a sense she had not been over her success. That Alymer Hermon had
+anything to do with it never entered Hal’s head. She had treated the
+whole matter of Lorraine’s attraction to him with the lightness that
+seemed its only claim, and scarcely remembered it at all.
+
+And yet, all the time, it was the young giant who was bringing the
+soothing and restfulness into the actress’s storm-tossed life. He was
+beginning to be with her constantly—to come to her with all his doings,
+and his imagings, and his hopes. And, as she had suspected, natural or
+unnatural, he was the companion of all others who gave her the most
+pleasure at the time.
+
+World-wearied and brain-wearied with her own unsatisfying successes,
+she found a new interest in entering into his projects, and scheming
+and dreaming for his future instead of her own.
+
+She was quite open to herself about the probability that she would have
+felt nothing of the kind had he been merely a giant, or had he been
+plain. It was the rare, and indeed remarkable combination of such
+physical attributes, with brains, and nobility and an utter absence of
+all assumption.
+
+She forgot about his youth and a certain natural crudity; and what he
+lacked in experience and development she easily balanced with the
+extraordinary physical attraction that had never ceased to sway her.
+
+For the rest, the future might go. Her friendship would not hurt him,
+and his had become necessary to her. If they dreamed over a volcano,
+what of it? Most dreams for such lives as hers usually were in close
+proximity to sudden destruction. Waves from nowhere came up and
+overwhelmed them. Rocks from unseen heights fell on them and crushed
+them. If she was wise she would take what the present offered, and
+leave the future alone.
+
+For Hal, on the other hand, had developed something of the restlessness
+that had fallen from Lorraine. The new element dawning in her life was
+not a restful one; neither did it lend itself to her usual spontaneous
+chaff and gay badinage.
+
+She told Lorraine about her afternoon drive, without giving half the
+particulars she would have done ordinarily; and when Lorraine asked her
+about Sunday, she only said she was perhaps going for another run with
+Sir Edwin. Lorraine did not press the point, because she was having a
+day with Alymer, and was chiefly glad that Hal was happily provided
+with a companion to take Dick’s place.
+
+Then she went off to her theatre, and Hal went home, wishing the next
+day were Sunday.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Dudley hardly knew, himself, why he spoke diffidently about his plans
+for Sunday, and why he did not tell Hal outright that he was taking
+Doris Hayward to a picnic at Marlow, given by mutual friends of his and
+theirs—friends of the old vigorous days, when he and Basil Hayward had
+gone everywhere together, and Hal had still been a boisterous
+schoolgirl. Perhaps he felt she might seem to have been rather unkindly
+left out.
+
+As a matter of fact, an invitation to include his sister had been
+given; but, for reasons he hardly stopped to face, he chose not to
+mention it. That was after he had learnt from a visit to the little
+Holloway flat that nothing would persuade Ethel to leave her brother,
+who had been ailing more than usual of late, and Doris would accompany
+him alone.
+
+It had been with a curious mixture of feelings he had heard this.
+Things were very pitiful up at the little flat, and though his inmost
+sympathy had gone out generously enough to both girls, with a
+perversity born of narrow insight he had reserved the deepest of it for
+Doris.
+
+It seemed to him that she was so young to face such circumstances, and
+at such an early age to become saddened by the vicissitudes of life. In
+the depths of her wide blue eyes he saw unshed tears, and the little
+droop of her pretty mouth went straight to his heart. He wanted to
+gather her up in his arms, and kiss her and pet her till she was again
+all sunshine and smiles.
+
+He was not unaware that Ethel probably suffered more, but her way of
+showing it, or perhaps hiding it, appealed to him less. Instead of that
+mute distress of unshed tears, her quiet eyes wore an inscrutable veil.
+It was as if the anguish behind the veil were something too terrible
+and too sacred to be looked upon by a workaday world; but Dudley only
+knew that a wall of reserve was between him and her trouble.
+
+And her firm, strong mouth had no engaging droop at the corners. It was
+only if anything a little firmer, almost to sternness.
+
+Dudley believed that Basil was dying at last, after his weary
+martyrdom, and he believed that Ethel knew it; and in some vague way it
+hurt him that she gave no sign, and refused to be drawn into any speech
+concerning his increased weakness.
+
+Doris, on the other hand, spoke of it in a faltering, tearful voice,
+adding a little pitifully that it made it harder for her that Ethel was
+so distant and unsympathetic.
+
+In a sense the circumstances nonplussed Dudley altogether. Some inner
+voice told him that such a depth of wondrous, unselfish devotion as
+Ethel showed to her invalid brother could not live in the same heart
+with hardness and want of sympathy; and yet there was the evidence of
+the swimming, melting eyes and drooping lips of the younger sister left
+out in the cold.
+
+Perhaps it was unfortunate that on that very evening of Dudley’s visit
+Ethel had come home rather earlier than her wont, to find Doris not yet
+returned from her daily outing, and, in consequence, the fire out and
+the sick man shivering with cold. He had looked so dreadfully ill that
+she had hastened first to get some brandy to revive him, only to find
+Doris had forgotten her promise to get the empty bottle replaced that
+morning.
+
+In desperation she had hastened to the other little flat on the same
+floor, hoping its inmate might chance to have a little to lend.
+
+The tenant was a lonely, harsh-featured spinster, who eked out a
+precarious living by teaching music. Ethel knew her slightly, as a
+gaunt woman who usually toiled up the stairs with a sort of scornful
+weariness of herself and everything else.
+
+She knew that because she was not fashionable, nor striking, nor
+well-dressed, she taught mostly in rather second-rate schools, and
+often had to take long journeys to her pupils, coming home tired and
+worn at night to an empty, comfortless little dwelling, to light her
+own fire and cook her own evening meal.
+
+She knew, too, that she was a gentlewoman, the daughter of a poor
+clergyman, left penniless, to fight a hard world alone. Had her own
+home been happier, she would gladly have asked her to join them
+sometimes; but the weight of Basil’s illness, and her own usual
+condition of weariness, had left the invitation always unspoken.
+
+“A little brandy,” the music-teacher echoed, with a quick note of
+concern; “yes, I believe I have a drop. Is it your brother? Let me come
+and see if I can help?”
+
+“Thank you,” Ethel had replied, trying not to allow her voice to show
+how much she would have preferred not to accept the proffered help. “I
+think I can manage quite well.”
+
+But the gaunt spinster followed her across the little landing
+obstinately. She had seen Doris out half an hour before, and knew that
+she had not yet returned.
+
+“Ah, you have no fire,” she said, in her somewhat grating voice; “if
+you will let me I will light it,” and without more ado she had procured
+coals and wood for herself, and was down on her knees before the empty
+grate.
+
+Ethel turned away with a sick, helpless feeling over Doris’
+selfishness, and after administering a few drops of brandy, chafed the
+sick man’s hands and feet. When Basil felt better he glanced up
+curiously at the strange, dried-up-looking female who had just
+succeeded in persuading a cheerful blaze to brighten the room. She
+looked back into his face frankly.
+
+“You needn’t mind me,” she informed him; “I’m only the music-teacher
+from the opposite flat.”
+
+“You seem to be rather a kind sort of music-teacher,” he said, with his
+winsome smile, “even if you do only come from the opposite flat.”
+
+The hard face relaxed a very little, and she shrugged her shoulders.
+
+“Oh, well, it isn’t easy to be kind,” she answered, “when you don’t
+stand for much else in the universe but a letter of the alphabet.” She
+turned back to her grate and commenced sweeping up the ashes.
+
+Basil roused himself a little further and looked interested.
+
+“What letter do you stand for?”
+
+“Just G.” She gave a low, harsh laugh. “G is the letter that
+distinguishes my flat from the others, and it is all I stand for to God
+or man.”
+
+“I see.” His white, pain wrung face looked extraordinarily kind. “Well,
+G, I’m very deeply grateful to you for coming across to light my fire;
+and I’m glad there happened to be a G in the universe this afternoon.”
+
+She turned her head away sharply, that neither of them might see the
+sudden, swift mist that dimmed her eyes, but she only answered:
+
+“All the same, if there had been no G, and no you, the universe would
+have had an atom less pain in it, and no one have been any the worse.”
+
+“That’s where you’re wrong,” he told her, “because Ethel couldn’t have
+done without me, and if you put your head in at my door occasionally,
+and just remark to F that G is across the passage, F will be glad the
+universe didn’t decide to leave G out of the alphabet.”
+
+The woman looked at him a moment with a curious expression in her eyes.
+Then she said:
+
+“Well, if _you_ can take the insult of a maimed, or joyless, or cursed
+life like that, it oughtn’t to be so very hard for me to be glad I
+happened to be able to come over and light your fire.”
+
+“Nor so very hard to come again.”
+
+“Ah!…” she hesitated, then said to him, looking half-defiantly towards
+Ethel: “Time after time, when I thought you were alone, I’ve wanted to
+just look in and see if you were all right. But I didn’t like to.
+People don’t take to me as a rule, and I’m… I’m… well, I’m not an
+ingratiating sort of person, and I guessed, probably, you’d all rather
+do without any help I had to give.”
+
+“It was kind of you to think of us at all,” Ethel said, not quite sure
+whether Basil would like her to come in or not.
+
+“You guessed wrong,” was his answer. “_I_ think it would be very nice
+of you to look in occasionally. It certainly seems rather absurd for
+you to be all alone there, and I all alone here, when we both want a
+little company. I’m sure the alphabet was not meant to be so
+unsociable.”
+
+“It just depends.”
+
+She got up from her kneeling posture on the hearth, and stood, a
+grotesque apparition enough, looking at him with her greenish,
+nondescript eyes. Her hay-coloured hair was tightly drawn back from a
+high, bulging forehead, her eyebrows were so light they scarcely showed
+at all, while her nose, which started in a nice straight line, had
+failed her at the last moment by suddenly taking an upward turn in an
+utterly incongruous fashion. She had high cheek-bones, a parchment
+skin, and a mouth that was not much more than a slit; the grotesque
+effect of the whole being heightened by a long, thin neck, which she
+made no effort to cover with a neat high collar, but accentuated by a
+half-and-half untidily loose one.
+
+She wore a cheap, ready-made blouse, with absurd little bows tacked on
+down the front, which Ethel longed to abolish with one sweep, and her
+skirt, which had shrunk considerably in front, sagged in a dejected
+fashion behind.
+
+Yet to Basil’s kindly eyes, there was something behind it all that was
+attractive. For one thing, she was so eminently sincere. One felt she
+had no delusions whatever, concerning her appearance or her oddities;
+and though she looked out upon life with that scornful, resentful air,
+she had yet a keener sense of humour and a clearer brain than most
+women. Under different circumstances she might have been a success.
+
+As it was, she appeared to have got into a wrong groove altogether,
+and, unable to extricate herself, to have merely become an oddity.
+Basil, from his couch, looked up at her with friendly eyes, and she
+finished:
+
+“One may want a little company, without wanting just any company.”
+
+“You think you will find me even duller than nothing?” and his eyes
+twinkled.
+
+“You know I didn’t mean that. You are clever, and well-read, and
+probably fastidious. I’m… well, you see what I am! and no good for
+anything except trying to restrain horrible children from thumping till
+they break the notes.”
+
+“I thought you said you were a music-teacher?”
+
+“That’s what they call it,” with a dry grimace; “but when I dare to be
+honest, I have too much respect for music.”
+
+“Well, you won’t have to weary your soul restraining me from thumping
+anything, so it will be a change to come and talk to me. We’ll turn the
+tables, and I’ll try and restrain you from thumping the universe too
+hard.”
+
+“It would be much more to the point if we thumped together: I, because
+I’m not wanted, and it’s an insult to foist me on to mankind whether I
+like it or not; and you, because… well, because you are a strong man
+cursed with helplessness.”
+
+“Very well, if you come in that particular mood, we’ll just play
+football with the bally old universe, so to speak. The main point to me
+is, that we take a rise out of the powers that be, by being a source of
+entertainment occasionally to each other. As our alphabetical
+significance in the general scheme is next door to each other, we may
+as well get what we can out of the circumstance.”
+
+She turned aside, looking half humorous and half satirical.
+
+“It sounds well enough as you say it, but I expect the powers are
+sneering diabolically at us both. However, if you’ll let me try to be
+some sort of company, I’ll come across again soon—”
+
+A latch-key was heard in the door, and a moment later Doris entered.
+When she saw the two women she looked taken aback, and stammered
+something about not knowing the time.
+
+“When I got in Basil’s fire was out, and he was perished with cold,”
+Ethel said coldly; “and as I had to go to Miss... Miss -”
+
+“Call it G,” put in the music-teacher, with a comical twist of her
+mouth.
+
+“—for brandy, she came over and lit the fire for me.”
+
+“I couldn’t help not knowing the time,” Doris murmured in a low,
+grumbling voice, and went away to take her hat off.
+
+The music-teacher glanced from one to the other, as if about to say
+something, but changed her mind and moved towards the door. On the
+threshold she looked back, and said in her short, dry way:
+
+“If F wants anything of G, G will be ready to come instantly.”
+
+“Thank you,” Basil and Ethel replied together, the former adding, “And
+don’t forget to put your head in at the door occasionally, by way of a
+reminder.”
+
+Ethel said no more to Doris, because she felt it useless, but her
+silence as they prepared the evening meal together signified her
+disapproval. She was deeply worried about Basil’s failing strength, and
+longed to speak of it to someone who could understand; but felt such
+selfish forgetfulness as Doris showed shut her out from any sympathetic
+discussion.
+
+Then Dudley came, and while Doris looked woebegone and sad, Ethel’s
+face was a little stern with stress and anxiety. Basil tried valiantly
+to be cheerful enough for all three, but the effort cost him almost
+more strength than he could muster.
+
+After Dudley had gone, carrying with him the image of Doris’s plaintive
+prettiness and pathetic solitariness, and thinking gladly of the
+pleasure it would be to take her to Marlow on Sunday, Ethel slipped on
+her knees beside Basil’s couch, overcome for a moment by the burden of
+his suffering, and the difficulties of their lives.
+
+Often after Dudley had been, and some little act or glance or word had
+seemed to emphasise the barrier between them, her yearning over Basil
+had broken down her courage. When she had lost them both, what would
+become of her then? was the question that utterley undid her, finding
+no reply beyond a sense of empty darkness.
+
+She told herself she would go right away to another land—to some far
+colony—where she could begin life afresh, with her haunting memories
+kept in the background. She would not stay to see the awakening come to
+Dudley, if Doris were his wife, nor struggle through the long months at
+the General Post Office, when the end of each day’s labour brought no
+welcoming smile from Basil.
+
+She would not settle down alone in a dingy little flat as their
+opposite neighbour, to become a mere letter of the alphabet to God and
+man, surrounded by countless other cyphers of as little meaning and
+account. She would go away to some new, young land, with her vigour and
+her courage, and carve out a path with some semblance of reality and
+value.
+
+Only, could she ever get away from the awful emptiness that would come
+to her with the loss of Basil, and the utter lack of any incentive to
+carry on the unequal struggle?
+
+Basil laid his hand on her bowed head, and for a little while seemed
+unable to speak. Then he steadied his voice, and rallied her with his
+brave, whimsical thoughts.
+
+“Wouldn’t the dear old pater have enjoyed G? She’s just the kind of
+oddity he doted on. Fancy her teaching music of all things. It must be
+only scales and exercises. I think she’s splendid to see the
+incongruity herself, and refuse to call it music when she dare be
+honest. What a grotesque figurehead she looks, chum, doesn’t she? I
+thoroughly enjoyed talking to her.”
+
+But Ethel could not answer to his cheeriness just yet.
+
+“Basil, why are so many humans just mere letters of the alphabet in the
+general scheme?”
+
+She had slid into a sitting posture now, and leaned her head against
+his arm.
+
+“It doesn’t matter so much about the men; they can go out into the
+world and make friends by the way, and become something more if they
+wish; but what of the single women, who have to work for their living,
+and have nothing much to look forward to but a sort of terror as to
+what will become of them when they can work no more? If you could see
+some of them at the office, with that drawn, dried-up, joyless look,
+scraping and saving and starving for dread of the years ahead: it’s so
+unfair, so grossly, hideously, cruelly unfair.”
+
+“It perhaps won’t be when you see all round it, chum. It is so obvious
+we only see one side of things here. When we see the other side it will
+all look so different.”
+
+“Perhaps, but in the meantime they are here, now, in our very midst,
+all _these unwanted_ women. If you saw as much of them as I do, I think
+you would feel even the letter had better not have been supplied. A
+blank would have meant so much less suffering. A penniless woman
+without attractiveness, and with neither husband, child, nor father
+wanting her, is such an anomaly. She just drags on, hating her
+loneliness, dreading and fearing the future or illness, merely existing
+because she is called upon to do so for no apparent reason.”
+
+“But she can always make friends, chum. If she is kind and cheerful and
+hopeful she will soon win love of some sort.”
+
+“Yes… yes… but, Basil, to be all that, when one is weighed down with the
+inequality of chance and a horror of the future calls for a heroine;
+and Life didn’t bother to make many of them heroines. She doesn’t seem
+to have paid much attention to them at all. Orphans and widows and sick
+people she remembers; but the lonely, ageing, hardened, unwanted
+spinster! It sometimes seems to me it is just sentimentality to be
+persuaded everything is all right.
+
+“I don’t believe it is all right. There’s too much useless, silent
+aching, and useless, passionate resentment over circumstances that it
+seems should either never have been, or should be remedied if any
+Guiding Hand has power. I have determination and I’m strong, Basil; the
+future doesn’t frighten me badly yet, but when you are gone, I feel as
+if the loneliness might half kill me, and as if then I ought to have
+the right to become a blank if I wish, since I was never consulted
+about becoming a letter in the great alphabet.”
+
+He did not seek to stay her, knowing with his deep insight that to get
+such thoughts spoken was better than to brood inwardly; and because of
+his unshakable faith in her courage, he was not alarmed by them.
+
+Yet he could not offer any comfort. Had not the enigma of useless pain
+racked and torn his soul piteously through the long years of his
+illness, leaving him indeed with a wonderful courage, but not with a
+theory that would fit the needs of suffering mankind? He could bear his
+own ills, because he had trained and taught himself to take them as a
+soldier takes the miseries of a hard campaign; but the general sum of
+suffering was another matter; and he shrank from saying either that
+suffering was sent by God to do good, or that it was necessary to the
+human race.
+
+All he knew was simply that ills bravely borne seemed aided by some
+mysterious power outside their bearers; whereas the craven and the
+grumbler seemed but to add to their own burden. For the rest, though he
+would not say it for the pain it gave her, the knowledge of his growing
+weakness was already a solace to him, and he watched with hidden
+eagerness for the day that should set him free. At least a corpse was
+no drain upon the slender purse of a beloved sister; and the gnawing
+ache of his helplessness and uselessness would be stilled for ever.
+
+If only Dudley had cared for her? From his vantage-ground of the
+looker-on, with his unnaturally sharpened sensitiveness, he knew
+perfectly how matters stood and how hopeless the desire seemed.
+
+Dear old Dudley, his life-long friend, would probably marry Doris and
+learn his mistake too late; and Ethel, with her fine nature, would go
+to some one else.
+
+Well, one could not change either one’s own little circle of fate, or
+the universe, just to suit oneself; one could only hope for the best,
+while there was still room for hope, and cultivate that soldier-spirit,
+undaunted even in a losing fight.
+
+In the meantime there was the lonely, unwanted spinster opposite, with
+her immediate claim of nearness and loneness; and, as if to direct her
+thoughts into another channel, he said:
+
+“You know, chum, I believe G was quite serious about wanting to come in
+here sometimes. Why not find out which afternoons she comes home early,
+and let her come and get tea and have it with me here. Then Doris need
+not worry about getting back in time.”
+
+“But if you are feeling weak it will tire you so, Basil, to have a
+stranger. You will feel obliged to talk to her.”
+
+“No, I don’t think I shall; and it would be nice to feel she was rather
+glad not to be a blank after all. Let her come one afternoon and try.
+Perhaps one way of grappling with the problem of human suffering—the
+best way—is to try and alleviate the atom of pain that is nearest each
+one of us.”
+
+She assented to please him, and then kissed his forehead with a
+lingering, adoring tenderness, marvelling that such a sufferer could so
+think for others. Then she went quietly to bed, feeling, as the gaunt
+spinster had tried to put it, “If _you_ can bear your ills so, surely I
+might manage to bear mine more courageously.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+The next evening Ethel crossed the little landing to the lonely flat,
+and gave the invitation from F to G.
+
+A good deal to her amusement, she found the gaunt spinster knitting
+babies’ socks, with a basket containing several completed pairs beside
+her. She picked a pair up, and said with a kind little smile:
+
+“I hardly expected to find you doing this.”
+
+“Of course not,” in a short way, that sounded uncivil without being so.
+“It’s an occupation about as much suited to me as teaching music.”
+
+“I wonder why you do it?”
+
+“I do it for bread, naturally. They bring in a few shillings. It is
+just a fluke that I can make them at all. I know as much about a needle
+ordinarily as a flying-machine; but I learnt to knit once under
+protest. I sprained my ankle and was laid up for some weeks, and I told
+the doctor I should go stark, staring mad if he kept me shut up in a
+house doing nothing. He said knitting was a very good preventive to
+madness, and he’d send his wife along. She was a great missionary
+worker, and she pounced on me like a hawk, and started me off knitting
+socks for little gutta-percha babies somewhere in the Antipodes, almost
+before I knew where I was. Such insanity!… as if white babies wanted to
+be bothered with socks, much less black ones! I told the doctor it was
+adding insult to injury to allow it to appear I hadn’t more common
+sense than to occupy my time with garments for the heathen. As if there
+weren’t too many garments in the world already, half the community
+over-dressed, and ready to sell its soul for more. ‘Leave them clean
+and healthy and naked, that’s my advice, doctor,’ I told him; ‘and if
+you weren’t afraid of your wife you’d agree.’”
+
+Ethel leaned against the table, enjoying the rugged face and comically
+twisted mouth.
+
+“But I thought you were a clergyman’s daughter?” she said.
+
+“So I am; but I don’t see why I shouldn’t be credited with a little
+common sense even then. I know they haven’t much as a rule; what with
+their sewing-classes, and praying-classes, and mothers’ meetings
+smothering up their minds till they can’t see beyond their noses. I
+never had much to do with that part of it. They didn’t like me well
+enough in the village to want to pray with me nor sew with me; which
+was just as well, for if I’d prayed, I should have implored the
+Almighthy to open their minds a little, and widen their views, and give
+them each a good thick slab of devilry to counteract their general
+soppiness and short-sighted stupidity. Ugh!… to hear some of those
+soppy folks praying to be delivered from the Evil One, and to have
+strength given them to cast the devil from their hearts! Just as if the
+devil had time to bother with that sanctimonious, chicken-hearted crew.
+He wasn’t very likely to do them the compliment of acknowledging their
+existence.”
+
+“Did no one do any parish work then?”
+
+“Oh, yes, the doctor’s wife did most of it. And when a new doctor came
+they daren’t for the life of them have a word to say to him, for fear
+of the next prayer-meeting, when she would preside. You see, she’d pray
+for the lost sheep in the fold for about half an hour, and how he went
+to the wolf for healing, which was the new doctor—instead of the
+saviour, which was her husband, the old one, and drew lurid pictures of
+the fiery poisons and deadly draughts the wolf gave the poor sheep to
+kill him instead of cure him.”
+
+“And what became of the new doctor?”
+
+“Oh, of course he had to go—which was a pity, as he was the first
+person with a sense of humour who ever entered that village as a
+resident. One could positively talk sense to him, without being
+regarded as a lunatic. As a rule, you had to feign imbecility there if
+you didn’t want to be considered mad. I had just made up my mind to
+learn to knit men’s ties, instead of babies’ socks, when he
+departed”—and she looked at Ethel with a grimness, and at the same time
+a lurking humour, that made it quite impossible for Ethel to keep her
+face.
+
+“And did you change your mind then?” seeing the gaunt spinster was not
+in the least annoyed at her for laughing.
+
+“Yes; I stuck to the babies’ socks. I thought on the whole it was less
+incongruous for a woman with a face like mine to work for a baby than a
+man. And that’s the nearest I ever got to a love affair. Just to wonder
+if I’d knit a man a tie, and change my mind, and knit socks for a
+little black heathen whelp instead.”
+
+“O dear!” said Ethel, with a little smothered gasp, “you don’t mind if
+I laugh, do you? You really are very amusing.”
+
+“Amusing!…” with a little humorous snort. “Well, I don’t mind amusing
+you; but I do think it’s about the most monstrous thing in the way of a
+practical joke I know, for Nature to create a creature like me, with a
+natural inclination to want a mate. Just as if any man could bear to
+get up every morning of his life and see me there.”
+
+“Nonsense,” Ethel exclaimed. “Basil thinks you are very attractive.”
+
+“Does he?” drily. Then, with a sudden, swift humour, “Perhaps it’s a
+pity I didn’t learn to knit ties after all!”
+
+“Tell him about why you didn’t instead—and about the village and the
+doctor’s wife. He’ll be so interested. You will be a positive godsend
+to him. May I tell him to expect you to tea tomorrow?”
+
+“Yes. Tell him, to add to the humour of the situation, I’ll bring
+across a baby’s sock to knit. We’re both so likely to have a mutual
+interest in babies.”
+
+Ethel kept Basil entertained most of the evening with the account of
+her interview, rather to the annoyance of Doris, who, for some vague
+reason, was not at all pleased about the new acquaintance.
+
+Perhaps it was because, on one or two occasions when she had remained
+out later than she should, she had met the music-teacher and
+encountered a fierce and disapproving glare. Doris was quite willing to
+be relieved of her charge occasionally, but she did not at all
+appreciate the idea of a strong-minded individual, who would certainly
+not hesitate not only to condemn her selfishness, but to look her scorn
+of it.
+
+On the evening of Dudley’s visit, when she first found the gaunt
+spinster at the flat, she had gone to bed feeling out of sorts with
+herself and all the world.
+
+She hated having been caught in her selfish forgetfulness; she hated
+the idea of the opposite tenant coming in to help Ethel; she hated
+being Doris Hayward and living in a stuffy Holloway flat. It caused her
+to turn her thoughts more seriously to a way of escape, and, as a
+natural sequence, to how much Dudley’s attentions might mean.
+
+And further, if they were meant in earnest, how she would feel about
+marrying him. She made no pretence to herself of loving him;
+personally, she thought love mostly sentimental nonsense; but she liked
+being with him, and she liked going about with him.
+
+On the other hand, he was not rich, and she hated poverty. If she
+waited a little longer, a richer man might turn up?… or, again, he
+might not, and Dudley might change his mind. Certainly it was very
+awkward to know which was the wisest course, but in the meantime it
+would be just as well to keep Dudley attracted.
+
+To this end she gave her hair an extra curl on Saturday evening, and
+arose betimes on Sunday morning for further preparations. Ethel took a
+bow off her hat, ironed, and remade it, and finally put the finishing
+touches to her appearance.
+
+“You look very nice,” she said. “I hope you’ll have a splendid day. Run
+and show yourself to Basil.”
+
+Basil told her she would certainly be the belle of the luncheon party,
+and finally she departed feeling very pleased with herself.
+
+Dudley was waiting for her at Paddington, and his eyes showed plainly
+that he echoed Basil’s opinion, though he did not actually express it
+in words.
+
+“How did you leave Basil?” he asked. “I wish I felt happier about him.”
+
+“He is much brighter altogether. I really think Ethel might have come,
+as the tenant of the opposite flat would have been only too pleased to
+go and sit with him. She never seems to have any pleasure, does she?
+But it is really her own fault. I would have stayed at home today if
+she would have let me.”
+
+“I think I’m rather glad she wouldn’t; though I am sorry she could not
+have had the treat as well. We are going to have a lovely day, in spite
+of its being so late in the year.”
+
+As it was only a small birthday luncheon, and the others of the party
+had either gone overnight or lived near, they were easily able to get a
+compartment to themselves, and Dudley was conscious of a pleasurable
+quickening of his pulses at the prospect of the long tête-à-tête.
+
+And indeed it was not surprising, for Doris looked adorably pretty and
+winsome, and many a wiser man might have shared his pleased
+anticipation. Moreover, Doris was not in the least stupid or vapid,
+however selfish and shallow her nature; and if she chose she could be a
+very pleasant companion.
+
+And today she did so choose, hovering still in indecision over the
+subject that had filled her thoughts often of late.
+
+Finally, it chanced that during much of the day they were thrown
+together, and all the time she thought how nice it was to be of so much
+consequence to any one; while he enjoyed again the sense of her
+clinging, engaging dependence.
+
+And when they were once more alone in a compartment, steaming back to
+town, it was not in the least surprising that, almost before he knew
+it, Dudley was pouring into her ears a tale of love.
+
+True, it was a very calm and collected tale, but it was none the less
+genuine for that; and from the bottom of his heart he believed that
+she, above all women, was the one he desired as his wife. Transports of
+any description were foreign to his nature. He imagined they always
+would be.
+
+Joyous excitement and enthusiasm he left to Hal, except such enthusiasm
+as he kept for old ruins and ancient architecture. Still, it warmed all
+his blood and quickened all his pulses to have his way at last, and
+hold Doris in his arms, and try to kiss away the unshed tears and the
+little droop from her lips.
+
+He took her home from the station, but did not go in because of the
+lateness of the hour, and the probability that Basil was just getting
+off to sleep; only kissing her again with a certain old-fashioned,
+deferential air and promising to come in the course of a day or two to
+see Ethel and Basil.
+
+Doris let herself in with somewhat mixed feelings.
+
+She had had a delightful day and thoroughly enjoyed it, but, now that
+the die was cast, and the difficult point settled, she found herself
+beginning to be more critical of Dudley.
+
+She wished he were not quite so old-fashioned, nor so good. She was a
+little afraid she would find his sterling qualities distinctly boring,
+and his high standard a difficult and tiresome one to bother with.
+
+And then, of course, there was Hal. Hal never had liked her and
+probably never would. Not that it mattered very much. In fact, it was
+rather pleasant than otherwise to think of Hal’s discomfiture and
+dismay, Doris wondered if she would expect to live with them, and made
+up her mind then and there, very decisively, that she would never agree
+to anything of the kind.
+
+She had suffered quite enough from Ethel’s superiority, without
+encountering a second edition in Hal. As she thought of it, and of how
+she would checkmate Hal’s possible plans to make her home with them,
+she smiled to herself a little cruelly in the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+It was Hal also who filled Dudley’s thoughts as he made his way
+homeward. In her attitude to his engagement he was afraid she was going
+to personate what is known as a “tough nut to crack.” He wondered if
+she would be waiting up for him, and what in the world she would say
+when he told her.
+
+As it happened, she was waiting, sitting over the remains of a little
+fire she had lighted for company. The reason she felt the need of
+company, and the reason she was waiting, was the fact of a perturbed
+frame of mind she was endeavouring to soothe, until he came in to give
+the final touch.
+
+She was perturbed because of the change in Sir Edwin Crathie, and the
+closing scene of a somewhat eventful day. Until tea-time he had been as
+gay and lighthearted and inconsequent as ever.
+
+Their lunch in the New Forest had been an immense success, and both had
+enjoyed it thoroughly. On their way home they further enjoyed a big tea
+at an hotel.
+
+Moreover, the drive had been delightful. The glory of the autumn tints;
+the delicious stillness of the autumn weather, and the sunny coolness
+of the atmosphere had all contributed to make the day perfect. After
+her long hours of office work and monotony, Hal was only the better
+tuned to enjoy it, and as she leant back in blissful ease in the
+luxurious motor, she thought what a goose she would have been to let
+prudish thoughts influence her to forgo it.
+
+Then, once more, after tea, he had deliberately moved his chair nearer
+to hers, and struck a personal note that she found it difficult to
+combat.
+
+“Do you know,” he told her blandly, “you’re the dearest little woman
+I’ve met for a long time? I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed a whole day
+with any one so much as this.”
+
+“It’s just the novelty,” she said, adopting a note of unconcern to head
+him off; “most of your friends flatter and try to please you. It amuses
+me more to contradict you; that’s all.”
+
+“Oh, that’s all, is it! Well, I dare say if I found a special joy in
+being contradicted, I could easily humour the fancy without going for a
+whole day into the country.”
+
+“Ver likely—only, since you wanted your day in the country, you kill
+two birds with one stone, don’t you see?”
+
+“And supposing I badly wanted something else from you besides
+contradiction!… a little affection, for instance!”
+
+“Oh, I’m giving you a lot of that thrown in,” gaily, but she pushed her
+chair a little farther away; “if I didn’t rather like you I shouldn’t
+bother to contradict you.”
+
+“Rather like me!… that’s very cold—I, a great deal more than _rather_
+like you.”
+
+“That, of course, is different,” with a jaunty air, that made them both
+laugh.
+
+“Still, I don’t think we can stop at ‘rather liking’, now—do you?”
+
+“I don’t see why we shouldn’t; we are getting on very nicely.”
+
+He got up suddenly, and walked away to the window. In his heart of
+hearts he was a little nonplussed. Of course they couldn’t stop where
+they were, he argued; but how, with a girl of Hal’s practical
+level-headedness get any farther?
+
+Then he remembered he was a firm believer in swift and sudden measures,
+and usually found they fitted all contingencies. So he swung round,
+crossed the room, put his hand on her shoulders, and boldly kissed her.
+
+“There,” he said—“that is how I ‘rather like’ you.”
+
+Hal was quite taken aback—almost too taken aback to speak; but a red
+spot burned in each cheek, and a sudden flash seemed to gleam angrily
+in her eyes. Her quick brain, however, took in the position instantly.
+If she grew indignant and melodramatic, he would merely laugh at her.
+
+Of course he knew she must be perfectly aware that men often kissed a
+girl who stood to them in her position, without thinking much of it. To
+make a fuss would be rather absurd. On the other hand, of course, he
+had to be disillusioned concerning what he apparently supposed would be
+her feelings on the subject.
+
+“I call that bad taste,” she said coolly. “You might have given me a
+sporting chance to let you know beforehand I should object.” He looked
+about to repeat the action, but she edged away from him. “Of course I
+know lots of girls don’t mind, but that’s nothing to do with you and
+me. I do.”
+
+“Why do you mind?” He felt rather small before the directness of her
+eyes, and tried to bluster himself on to his former level. “It’s very
+silly of you, especially nowadays. There’s no harm in a kiss, is
+there?”
+
+“None that I know of, but I think we were getting on very nicely
+without it. We won’t risk spoiling things. Come along, I’m longing to
+be off”; and she moved towards the door.
+
+“Are you angry with me?” he asked.
+
+“Yes; very; but if you’ll promise not to do it again I’ll try to
+forget. If you transgress further, we shall just have to leave off
+being friends—that’s all.”
+
+He took his seat in the motor beside her in silence, and Peter whizzed
+them away at a good speed.
+
+Hal, enjoying the motion, kept her face averted, and drank in the
+lovely, fresh country air.
+
+Presently a hand stole firmly over hers.
+
+“You’re not to be angry with me any more, little woman. I’m afraid I
+was rather a cad, but you’ve got such a fascinating mouth. I’m sorry.”
+
+She looked frankly into his eyes.
+
+“Well, don’t do it again, then.”
+
+He tried to look no less frankly back, but it was as if some forbidden
+thought flashed across his mind.
+
+“I’ll try not,” he said, a trifle lamely, and looked away.
+
+He still kept possession of her hand, however, until she resolutely
+drew it from him.
+
+“Will Brother Dudley be in?” he asked, when they drew up in Bloomsbury.
+
+“No; he won’t get back much before nine.”
+
+He took her latch-key from her, and opened the door, entering himself,
+instead of taking her proffered hand.
+
+“Which way?” he asked, and she opened the door into their sitting-room.
+
+“I’ll show you Brother Dudley’s photograph now you’re here,” she said
+in a frank voice—“and the very latest of Lorraine Vivian. I wish I had
+one of Apollo; but I’ve never asked for one, because I always make a
+point of pretending not to admire him.”
+
+“It’s only pretence, then?” he asked, glancing at the others as if his
+thoughts were elsewhere.
+
+“It can only be. One is bound to admire him at heart. Nature seldom
+made a fairer gentleman, and it would be mere perversity to deny it,
+except, as I do, for his good.”
+
+Then suddenly she saw he was scarcely listening to her, and looking at
+the photographs without seeing them, and instinctively she moved away,
+feeling a little at loss. The next moment he had caught her shoulders,
+and kissed her again.
+
+“I said I’d try, and so I have, but it’s no use. Little woman, don’t be
+prudish; kiss me back again.”
+
+But she pushed him away, and in the firelight he saw she was very white
+and determined.
+
+“I asked you not to. It is much worse taste still now.”
+
+“No, it isn’t—don’t be silly. Why shouldn’t I kiss you? I... I... have
+got awfully fond of you, and I know you like me somewhere down in your
+heart.”
+
+“I shall cease to do so from this moment.”
+
+“I dare you to. Hal, if you like me, why not take the sweets that
+offer? I’ll be bound you’ve never been kissed in your life as I will
+kiss you. Don’t be prudish. Let me teach you.”
+
+She seemed to hesitate a second, in indecision as to what was her best
+course to withstand him, and, seizing the opportunity, he suddenly
+caught her in his arms and kissed her on the lips with swift, eager
+kisses. Then, not giving her time to speak her resentment, he snatched
+up his hat and moved to the door.
+
+“Don’t be angry,” he said. “I did try, honour bright, but it’s no use;
+good-bye. I must see you again soon”; and he went out, closing the door
+behind him.
+
+For some minutes Hal stood quite still, feeling a little dazed. She saw
+him cross the pavement, give some directions to Peter, and then drive
+away without a backward glance. She stood still a little longer, then
+slowly took off her hat, threw it on the sofa, ran her fingers through
+her hair and sat down.
+
+After a little, the emptiness of the room seemed to oppress her, for
+though it was not cold, she jumped up and put a match to the fire. Then
+the landlady came in with her supper.
+
+“’Ad a nice day, miss?” she asked pleasantly.
+
+“Very nice. How’s Johnnie? Did you get to see him?” alluding to a small
+son boarded out at Highgate for his health.
+
+“Yes; I went up to tea with ’im. ’E looks years better already.”
+
+“I’m very glad.”
+
+Hal sat down to her supper with a preoccupied air, and instead of
+having a little chat, she relapsed into silence, and the landlady
+departed. She felt vaguely that something had upset entirely the even
+tenor of her mind, and she wanted to think. Any other Sunday evening
+she would have told the landlady something about her motor-ride, for
+she and Dudley had now been in the same rooms for seven years, and it
+is quite a fallacy to condemn all London landladies as grasping,
+bad-tempered tyrants.
+
+Hal was quite fond of Mrs. Carr, and had found her unwearingly
+thoughtful and attentive. But tonight she wanted to think, and was glad
+to be alone again, almost immediately returning to her arm chair over
+the fire.
+
+She was conscious, in a vague, uncertain way, that though Sir Edwin had
+kissed her because he cared for her, he could not have acted so had he
+cared in an upright, honest-hearted manner. She attracted him, and he
+wanted all the pleasure he could get out of the attraction, but there,
+no doubt, it ended.
+
+For the rest, he was Sir Edwin Crathie, Cabinet Minister, and member of
+a proud, patrician family. She was Hal Pritchard, secretary, typist,
+and occasional journalist at the office of a leading London paper.
+
+She grew restless, and commenced roaming round the room. Her knowledge
+of life, as it is lived near its teeming, throbbing, working centre,
+warned her that the new turn of their friendship held danger. If she
+was wise, she would shun the danger, and go back to her old life before
+he had come into it. She would firmly and resolutely refuse to see him
+again.
+
+To do so without regret was impossible. Now that the friendship seemed
+about to cease, she realised it had meant more than she knew. She held
+her face in her hands, and her cheeks tingled at the memory of the last
+eager kiss.
+
+She was woman enough to know it was good to be kissed like that by a
+man who, even if his morals and principles left much to be desired, was
+still very much a man, and had won a distinction that made most women
+proud of far less attention than he had shown her.
+
+Still?—
+
+In a different sense she was struggling in a net of circumstances
+something like Lorraine’s. Lorraine wanted to do the right thing, or,
+at any rate, the sporting thing.
+
+So did Hal.
+
+In a world full of temptations, and backsliding, and much suffering
+thereby, the sporting thing for the strong woman is to stand to her
+guns. If Hal dallied with Sir Edwin now, she felt she would be
+deserting her post. At the judgment-bar of her own heart, which, after
+all, matters far more than the judgment-bar of public opinion, she
+would be allowing herself to compromise for the sake of the fleeting,
+dangerous pleasure.
+
+She stopped short by the window, and stared out into the gloomy,
+lamplit street. And it crossed her mind to remember the bitter price so
+many women had paid for that dalliance and compromise, so many now
+probably gazing out with dull eyes into gloomy streets, hopeless,
+reckless, and joyless.
+
+Yes; dalliance and compromise were mistakes. The real pluck was the
+sporting spirit that stood to its guns, even if it cost a big and
+wearisome effort. She would not dally. She would answer to her own
+Best, and try to go on her steadfast way.
+
+After all, she had Dudley and Lorraine. It was good to have a brother
+all to oneself, who was incontestably a dear, in spite of a little
+priggishness and narrowness. He would be home soon, and then they would
+have a last chat over the fire together; and that would help to renew
+her in her determination to cut the dangerous friendship adrift.
+
+She leaned back in the chair a little wearily, and waited for the
+welcome sound of his key in the latch. She wished he would come
+quickly, because she did not quite like the way her mind kept reverting
+to those eager kisses. The memory had the danger of making most other
+thoughts seem thin and dull; and she wondered how she was going to
+replace a friendship that had been so full of interest and enjoyment.
+
+If she had dared, she would like to have persuaded herself that he
+cared for her in the real way; and her cheeks glowed, and her heart
+thumped a little at the thought of all the real way meant. But her
+practical side told her only too decidedly that this was not the case.
+
+Perhaps he was not the sort of man who could care in the real way at
+all. He was too selfish, and grasping, and ambitious by nature. That he
+was interesting and a delightful companion as well did not help
+matters. Men were very often all these things together, but the
+selfish, ambitious, unscrupulous side usually outweighed all the rest
+in big questions that affected their whole lives.
+
+Then she remembered that many of the girls she knew—quite nice, jolly
+girls—would have taken the fun that offered, and not bothered about
+anything beyond the present. Still, that did not affect her own
+particular case.
+
+One had to try and live up to one’s own ideals, not other people’s, and
+in her inmost heart she knew that she thought but poorly of the girls
+who run foolish risks for the sake of a little extra pleasure and
+gratification, just as she thought poorly of the man who amused
+himself, trifling with a girl’s affections, to pass a little time.
+
+Then came the welcome sound of Dudley’s key, and she sat up and turned
+an eager face to the door to greet him.
+
+He came in quietly, and returned the greeting with his usual calm,
+undemonstrative appreciation; only, he did not look at her, nor ask her
+any questions about her day.
+
+The supper was still waiting for him, and he took a few mouthfuls, in a
+preoccupied manner, with his face turned away. Hal asked him about the
+day’s outing, wondering not a little at his manner. He seemed anxious,
+and somewhat ill at ease, and she observed that he did not eat anything
+to speak of.
+
+At last he got up and came to her side near the fire.
+
+“Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asked. “I thought a little fire
+looked so cosy.”
+
+He did not seem to hear her, for instead of replying he coughed
+nervously, cleared his throat, and said:
+
+“I’ve something to tell you, Hal—a piece of news.”
+
+She waited, watching him with a puzzled, curious air. Then, without any
+further preamble, he finished abruptly:
+
+“I’m—I’m—engaged to be married.”
+
+Hal gave a gasp, and became suddenly taut with amazement and
+incredulity. “You’re—engaged—to—be—married!”
+
+“Yes; you’re not very surprised, are you?”
+
+A sudden, awful fear seemed to envelop and clutch at her.
+
+“Who to?” she asked, a little hoarsely?
+
+“To Doris Hayward.”
+
+For some reason he seemed unable to look at her. Vaguely he knew he had
+dealt her a blow, and that it was of a nature he could not soften.
+
+Hal stared hard at the fire, then suddenly started to her feet.
+
+“You can’t mean it,” she exclaimed, forgetting to be circumspect. “You
+couldn’t possibly think seriously of marrying Doris Hayward?”
+
+Instantly he stiffened.
+
+“I don’t know why you speak of it in that way. Certainly I am serious.
+It is hardly a question I should joke about.”
+
+There was a tense silence, then Hal turned to the sofa and picked up
+her hat as if she were a little dazed. She seemed suddenly to have
+nothing to say, and she knew herself to be no good at prevarication. To
+congratulate him seemed an impossibility just yet.
+
+“Of course I know you have never cared for Doris,” he said; “but
+probably you did not know her well enough. I hope you will soon see you
+have misjudged her.”
+
+“I hope so,” she said lamely. “Good-night—I—I—hadn’t thought about your
+getting married. I must get used to the idea. I—” she paused in sudden,
+swift distress. “Good-night; of course I hope you’ll be happy, and all
+that,” and she went hurriedly out, and up to her own room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+When Hal reached her room she sat down on the bed in the dark, and
+stared at the dim square of the window. She was feeling stunned, and as
+if her brain would not work properly. It grasped the significance of
+old, familiar objects as usual, but seemed quite unable to grip and
+understand the something strange and new which had suddenly come into
+being. She remembered she had waited for Dudley to come with soothing
+for a perturbed frame of mind, and instead, he had brought her—_this_.
+
+What could it mean? Surely, surely, not that Doris Hayward was to rob
+her of her brother.
+
+A wave of swift and sudden loneliness seemed to envelop her. The
+blackness of the night closed in upon her, and desolation swept across
+her soul.
+
+“If only it had been Ethel,” was the vague, uncertain thought: “any one
+in the world almost but Doris.”
+
+And again,
+
+“Why had Dudley been so incredibly blind to Doris’s real nature? Why
+had he of all men been caught by a pretty face? Was it possible he
+thought his life would need no other help and comfort but that of a
+charming exterior in his wife?”
+
+How childlike he seemed again to his young sister’s practical, worldly
+knowledge. Of course he knew almost nothing of women, buried in his
+musty old architectural lore, and giving most of his brain to the
+contemplation of ancient ruins and edifices.
+
+He had looked up from his books, and Doris had smiled at him, that
+diabolically winsome, innocent smile of hers; and something in his
+heart, not quite smothered and likewise not healthily developed, had
+warmed into sudden, surprised pleasure, and straightway he thought
+himself in love. Hal was sure of one thing, that if Doris had not
+decided it would suit her plans to be Dudley’s wife, the idea would not
+have occured to him.
+
+After all, what did he want with a wife for years to come, going along
+so contentedly and placidly with his books and his thirst for
+knowledge, and the peacefulness of their sojourn with Mrs. Carr? No
+servant troubles, no housekeeping worries, no taxes, no gas and
+electric-light bills; everything done for them, and for company each
+other.
+
+Oh, of course, it was all Doris’s doing. She wanted to get away from
+the dingy flat and the poverty, and she had hit upon Dudley as a way
+out.
+
+Hal got up suddenly with a bursting feeling. Of course she did not even
+love him, would not even try to change her nature to become more in
+touch with his, would not trouble in the least what obstacles stood
+between any real and deep understanding. Perhaps she was not even
+capable of love, but in any case her affections could not have been
+given to any one as quiet, and studious, and old-fashioned as Dudley.
+
+She went to the window and threw it open that she might lean out and
+breathe the open air. Her head burned and ached, and her eyes smarted
+with a smouldering fire in her brain. She felt more and more how
+entirely it must have been Doris’s doing. Doris had smiled at him, and
+confided in him, and managed first to convey a pathetic picture of her
+own loneliness, and then to suggest how happy her life might be with
+him.
+
+And of course Dudley was all chivalry at heart, and trusting, and
+tender-hearted; that was one reason why he had always deplored her,
+Hal’s, boyish independence and determination to fend for herself. He
+did not understand the vigorous, enterprising, working woman.
+
+Immersed in his books and his studies, he had allowed himself to be
+influenced largely by caricatures, and by the noisy stir of the
+platform woman. But he understood the Doris type, or thought he did,
+and placed their engaging dependence before such spirited resolution as
+her own and Ethel’s.
+
+And how to help him? How, now, to thwart the carrying out of Doris’
+cleverly carried scheme.
+
+Her first thought was Ethel and Basil. She would go to them, and appeal
+to them to help her.
+
+And then she remembered that “blood is thicker than water.” How could
+they thwart their own sister; and in any case what would Dudley ever
+see in it but a persecution that would intensify his affection? One
+hint that Doris was victimised, and she knew Dudley well enough to
+realise he would only marry her the more quickly, whether he had
+learned the truth or not.
+
+Opposition of any sort would probably do far more harm than good at
+present. There was nothing for it but to meet the blow with the best
+face possible, and hope time might yet bring release.
+
+Then her thoughts went back to Sir Edwin, and quite suddenly and
+unaccountably she longed to tell him about it. He would be interested
+for her sake, and he would cheer her up, and make her hopeful in spite
+of herself.
+
+And yet—
+
+No; to see him again, feeling as she felt now, would only mean to see
+him in a mood of weakness, that might make her less able to withstand
+him.
+
+She must rely only on Lorraine and Dick, and try to stand by her
+previous determination. She would see Lorraine directly she left the
+office the next day, and in the meantime she would try and hide from
+Dudley the extent of her dismay.
+
+But in spite of her resolve, when she rested her head on the pillow,
+the hot tears squeezed through her closed eyelids, and in dumb misery
+she told herself Dudley was lost to her for ever.
+
+She awoke the next morning with a dull, aching sense of misery that had
+robbed the sunshine of its warmth, and the day of its brightness; but
+as she dressed she strengthened herself in a resolve to try and hide
+her chagrin, and make some amends to Dudley for her reception of the
+news.
+
+“I suppose you felt pretty disgusted with me last night,” she said at
+the breakfast-table. “I’m sorry, but you took me so violently by
+surprise.”
+
+He had taken his seat, looking grave and displeased, but his face
+relaxed as he replied:
+
+“I’m afraid I was rather sudden. It seemed the easiest”—he hesitated,
+then added—“I hope you’ll try to get on with Doris.”
+
+“Of course.” Hal turned away on some slight pretext. “I’d hate giving
+you up to any one—you know I would—we’ve—we’ve—been very happy together
+here, and—” but her voice broke suddenly.
+
+Dudley looked unhappy, but he steadied his voice and said cheerfully:
+
+“Well, it needn’t be very different. If you and Doris will get fond of
+each other, it will be the same, only better. Of course you will live
+with us.”
+
+“Oh no”; and she tried to smile lightly—“I couldn’t—possibly live
+without Mrs. Carr now. I should never be properly dressed, for one
+thing, and I should always be forgetting important engagements.” She
+changed the subject quickly, seeing he was about to remonstrate. “Have
+you seen Ethel and Basil since—since—”
+
+“No; I’m going to see Basil this afternoon, after taking Doris to
+Wimbledon to see Langfier fly, and I shall stay to dinner. Will you
+come up this evening?”
+
+“No; I’m going out. Perhaps tomorrow—” she hesitated, as if swallowing
+a lump in her throat. “You might give my love to Doris, and say I’ll
+come soon.” She saw Dudley glance at her inquiringly, and recklessly
+dashed into another subject, talking at random until she left.
+
+In the afternoon she hurried straight off to Lorraine’s flat, arriving
+a few minutes after Lorraine had come in from a walk in the Park. She
+was standing by the window, drawing off some long gloves, and even Hal
+was struck by a sort of newness about her—a bloom and a quiet radiance
+that was like a renewal of youth.
+
+She was beautifully dressed as ever, but with a far simpler note than
+usual—something which suggested she wished to look charming, without
+attracting attention; something which suppressed the actress in favour
+of the woman.
+
+It was as if, surrounded with success and attention night after night,
+and for several years, she had wearied of the rôle, and put it aside
+voluntarily whenever opportunity offered. She had been wont to be very
+fashionable and striking in her dress and general appearance, but now
+Hal noticed vaguely a simpler note all through.
+
+Her face and expression seemed to have changed also. A certain hardness
+and callousness had gone. Her smile was more genuine, and her eyes
+kinder. In some mysterious way, it was as though Lorraine had won from
+the past some gleaming of the woman she might have been under happier
+circumstances, and without certain harsh experiences.
+
+And it was all owing to her feeling for Alymer Hermon and his youthful
+pride in her.
+
+They met continually now. Her flat was open to him whenever he liked.
+He came to her when he had anything interesting to relate—when he was
+depressed and when he was hopeful. With the inconsequent acceptance of
+youth, he took from her what an older man would have regarded a little
+shyly, and perhaps feared to take.
+
+She was his pal, his excellent friend, who gave him such sympathy and
+interest and encouragement as she could find nowhere else. Because he
+was young, he drank deep and asked no questions.
+
+He did not imagine for a moment that she was in love with him. True,
+other women were; but then they told him so, and alarmed him with their
+attentions. Lorraine was more inclined to laugh at him and make fun of
+him, in a jolly, pally sort of way, which made him feel perfectly at
+home with her, and successfully banish any questions.
+
+She was more like a man friend, only better, because a man would have
+wanted an equal share of interest, whereas Lorraine seemed content to
+be interested in him. She never encouraged him to talk about her
+triumphs and her other friends. She rather implied they were so public
+and apparent already she did not want to hear any more of them.
+
+But she was always ready to talk of his hopes and aspirations, and help
+him to build foundations to his aircastles. And already, under her
+tuition and help, he had made immense strides. His work and his objects
+had become real to him, ambition had taken root and begun to push out
+little upward shoots. He saw himself one of the leading lights at the
+Bar, and instead of lazily scoffing, he liked the picture. He wanted to
+get there, and if Lorraine was ready to help him, why should she not?
+Why bother to ask questions?
+
+Of course she must be fond of him, or she would not do it; but then he
+was fond of her too—very fond—and why not? The mere suggestion of
+danger did not occur to him. She was so many years his senior, and so
+celebrated, it never crossed his mind to suppose she could have any
+feeling for him beyond the jolly palliness that seemed to have sprung
+up naturally between them.
+
+So he came and went between the Temple and her flat and his own
+quarters, and life began to assume a bigness of possibility that
+drowned all else, and kept him eager and hard working and safe from the
+hurtful influences and actions that attend idle hours.
+
+And Lorraine, for the present, walked in her fool’s paradise and was
+content. She watched him slowly and surely fill out both physically and
+mentally into the promise of his splendid manhood.
+
+She saw his youthful beauty solidifying into the beauty of a man, and
+carefully watered and tended those budding shoots of ambition that were
+to help him attain his best promise.
+
+For the time being the thwarted mother-love that is in every woman
+satisfied her with the evidence of his progress, and she lulled any
+other into quiescence, hugging to herself the knowledge that it was she
+alone to whom he would owe greatness, if he won it, and that even his
+own doting mother had not done, and never could do, the half that she
+was doing to start him on a steadfast way that should lead to fame and
+usefulness.
+
+She made it her excuse for ignoring the questions which her wider
+knowledge could not entirely banish. To what other results the
+friendship might lead she turned a deaf ear. The other results must
+take care of themselves, was her thought; it was enough for her that
+she could help to make him great.
+
+She smiled a little at the thought of the women she had won him from.
+He talked to her now freely and openly, though always with that
+unassuming modesty which was so attractive. She knew what he had
+already had to combat. What a life of self-pleasing and gay-living lay
+open to him if he chose to take it. She knew that, if he chose it,
+though he might still win a certain amount of fame, it would never be
+the well-grounded, staunch, reliable success that she could spur him
+to.
+
+And so she drew a curtain over the dangers her course might hold, and,
+in a light and airy way, threw over him the glow and the warm
+attractiveness of her many fascinations and allurements, that she might
+keep him free from any foolish engagement or low entanglement, to
+concentrate all his mind and his heart upon his work and her.
+
+How long such an aim was likely to satisfy her, or how natural or
+unnatural her course, she left with all the other questions, to be
+faced, if necessary, later on, or to pass with the swift joy into
+oblivion.
+
+At least it was not the first time a woman, scarcely young, and having
+her full measure of success, had turned unaccountably to a man very
+much her junior, for something she apparently sought in vain from men
+of her own age. It might be strange, but it was not unique; and for the
+rest, were not the ways of the little god Love like the ways of many
+events—“stranger than fiction”?
+
+His magnificent physique, his extraordinarily beautiful head, and his
+no less extraordinary, unassuming modesty, attracted and held her with
+links that grew stronger and stronger, and her happiest hours now were
+those in which he made himself delightfully at home in her flat, and
+added to his charm by talking to her with the old-fashioned,
+grandfatherly air she had enjoyed from the first.
+
+And so Hal found a younger and softer Lorraine than she had known for a
+long time, waiting to hear the burden of her tale of woe.
+
+They talked it over in every aspect, Hal sitting in her favourite
+attitude on a stool at Lorraine’s feet; but very little light could be
+won through the clouds. All the consolation Lorraine could suggest was
+a possibility that to be engaged and married to a man like Dudley might
+change Doris altogether for the better; but Hal, beyond feeling
+brighter for having spoken out her dismay, felt there was little indeed
+hope of that.
+
+“Have you seen Sir Edwin Crathie again?” Lorraine asked presently, and
+she was surprised to see a spot of colour instantly flame into Hal’s
+cheeks.
+
+“I’ve had a long motor ride with him,” she said, speaking as if it were
+a mere detail.
+
+“_Have you_?” was Lorraine’s very expressive rejoinder.
+
+“Why do you say it like that?” Hal laughed with seeming lightness. “He
+just took me for a treat. He’s rather sorry for me, being boxed up in
+an office, as he calls it.”
+
+“I see. Well, don’t forget he has the reputation for being rather a
+dangerous man, old girl.”
+
+Hal laughed again.
+
+“I’ll tell him so, and go armed with a revolver next time.” She noticed
+an inquiring look in Lorraine’s eyes, and added: “Don’t look so
+serious, Lorry; he is old enough to be my father. He likes a little
+amusement, the same as you and Baby Hermon.”
+
+She turned away as she spoke, and did not see the swift deepening of
+the look of inquiry, nor a certain strange expression that flitted
+across Lorraine’s face; and almost immediately the door opened, and
+Alymer Hermon walked in unannounced.
+
+“Hullo, Hal!” he exclaimed—“it’s quite a long time since I ran into you
+here.”
+
+“Hullo, Baby!” she retorted. “Why, I declare, you are beginning to look
+quite a man.”
+
+“If you don’t mind I’ll pick you up and carry you all the way down the
+stairs to the street; then you’ll see if I’m a man or not.”
+
+“Tut; any big creature could do that! Got any briefs yet?”
+
+“I have.”
+
+Lorraine looked up instantly with an eager, questioning glance—while
+Hal asked gaily:
+
+“What is it?... I suppose the original holder is sick, or dead, or
+something, and you are a stop-gap.”
+
+“You are wrong, Miss Sharp-tongue. I hold the brief entirely on my own.
+It hasn’t even anything to do with any one in Waltham’s Chambers.”
+
+And still Lorraine, with shining eyes, watched his face.
+
+“I suppose,” said Hal, “the other side have got a very small man, and
+they wanted a big one to frighten him?”
+
+“Wrong again. The other side has Pym, and he is quite six feet in
+height.”
+
+“Then perhaps he looks clever, and they believe in contrasts.”
+
+“I shall carry you down to the street yet,” threateningly; “you are
+running grave risks.”
+
+“So is the poor man trusting his defence to you.”
+
+“It happens to be a lady.”
+
+Hal clapped in her hands.
+
+“Of course,” she cried; “now we are getting at it. The lady chose you
+because she thought your wig and gown becoming. How many interviews
+shall you be having with her?”
+
+“I couldn’t say, but we had one this afternoon.”
+
+“And was she very charming? Did she call you Baby?”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Lorraine.
+
+“I only waste my substance trying to cope with any one as obtuse as
+Hal. Is she going to stay to dinner?”
+
+“I’m afraid so,” smilingly.
+
+He took up his stand on the rug, with his back to the fire and looked
+down at Hal on her footstool.
+
+“It’s a pity about the obtuseness,” he commented, “because she is
+really rather nice to look at. She has improved so much lately.”
+
+“Oh no, I haven’t,” tilting her nose in the air. “I am exactly the
+same; but you have acquired better taste. Is _he_ going to stay to
+dinner, Lorraine?” “I’m afraid so. You will have to call a truce,
+because I want to hear all about the brief; and I shall hear nothing if
+you persist in wrangling.”
+
+“It isn’t my fault,” he said. “I always try to be friends.”
+
+“Well, as far as that goes, I always _try_ to like you,” Hal retorted
+with a laugh.
+
+“You would find it much easier if you did not hurl insults at me. Begin
+another plan altogether.”
+
+“Come along to dinner,” put in Lorraine, rising, “and let us hear about
+this brief.”
+
+She led the way to the dining-room, and they had a merry little meal,
+arranging all about the congratulatory dinner Lorraine proposed to give
+for Alymer to celebrate the important occasion of his first brief.
+
+Afterwards Hal drove to the theatre with her, and stayed a short time
+in her room while, as Lorraine phrased it, she put on her war-paint.
+
+Then she went rather sadly home alone, feeling lost and unhappy about
+Dudley. It crossed her mind once that Lorraine and Alymer Hermon seemed
+be on very much more familiar terms than previously, but she paid
+little heed to the thought, merely supposing that it amused Lorraine to
+help him in his profession.
+
+She sat over the fire and tried to read, but presently the book went
+down into her lap, and her eyes sought the cheery flicker of the
+flames. Only there was no answering glow in her usually bright face,
+rather a sad uneasiness and perplexity, as if circumstances she hardly
+knew how to cope with were closing in upon her.
+
+She felt she had come to a difficult path in life she would have to
+face alone; for in her friendship with Sir Edwin Crathie neither Dudley
+nor Lorraine could help her.
+
+And, gazing into the fire with serious, thoughtful eyes, it was neither
+Dudley and Doris, nor Lorraine and Alymer who finally held her
+thoughts, but sir Edwin Crathie himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+The first time Sir Edwin rang up the newspaper office after the
+memorable Sunday it happened that Hal had gone into the country to
+report an opening ceremony, graced by Royalty, so she was saved the
+necessity of framing a reply.
+
+One of the usual reporters being ill, the news editor had asked her if
+she would like to take his place, and she had eagerly accepted the
+chance. It meant a day in the country, travelling by special train, and
+the writing of the report did not worry her at all, as she had already
+served her apprenticeship to journalism, and knew how to seize on the
+most interesting points and condense them into a small space.
+
+She had a genius for making friends also, and after an excellent
+champagne lunch, and a cup of tea captured for her by a pleasant-faced
+man whom she afterwards discovered to be the Earl of Roxley, she
+motored back to the railway station with a well-known aeronaut, who
+promised to take her for a “fly” some day. They travelled up to town in
+the same compartment, and as Hal had to have her article ready for
+press when she reached the office, it was necessary to write it in the
+train.
+
+The “flying man” wished to turn his hand to journalism too, and
+attempted to help her, without much success, though with a good deal of
+entertainment for himself. He was specially amused at her determination
+to lay considerable stress on the fact that one of the horses in the
+royal carriage fell down between the station and the park.
+
+“What’s the good of putting that in?” he argued; “it is of no
+importance.”
+
+“Why, it’s almost the most important thing of all,” she declared. “You
+evidently don’t know much about journalism. The Public will not be half
+as interested in the King’s speech as in the information that one of
+the horses fell down, and that the King then put his hands on the
+Queen’s, and told her not to be frightened.”
+
+“But he didn’t; and the horse only slipped.”
+
+“But you’re too dense!” she cried, “and, anyhow, you can’t be certain
+that he didn’t. It’s what he ought to have done, and the British Public
+will be awfully pleased to know that he did. They’ll be frightfully
+interested in the horse falling down, too. I suppose you would leave it
+out, and give dates of the building of the edifice, and the different
+styles of architecture, and the names of illustrious people connected
+with it. As if any one wanted to know that! The horse will make far
+better reading, though I daresay I ought to work in a few costs of
+things. The B.P. loves to know what a thing costs.”
+
+“Well, why not value the horse, as you think so much of it? or say that
+it snapped a trace in half which cost two guineas, and was bought in
+Bond Street?”
+
+They both laughed, and then Hal said seriously:
+
+“I think I’ll make it kick over the centre pole, only then perhaps some
+of the other reporters will catch it for not having seen the kick also.
+I once wrote an account of a garden party, and left out that the horses
+of the Prime Minister’s carriage shied and swerved, and one wheel
+caught against the gate-post. As a matter of fact, it did not do much
+more than graze it, but some journalist wrote a thrilling account of
+how the carriage nearly turned over; and I’ve never forgotten the
+chief’s face when he asked me why I hadn’t mentioned the accident to
+the Prime Minister’s carriage. I said there wasn’t an accident, and he
+snapped: ‘Well you’d better have turned them all in a heap in the road
+than left it out altogether!’
+
+“I’ve never made the same mistake since,” she finished, “and now, if
+the chief sees my paragraphs, he has to ring some one up occasionally,
+and make sure I haven’t gone out of bounds altogether.”
+
+“Well, if you’re quite determined to lie... I mean romance... why not
+do it thoroughly? Let the King leap out of the carriage, with the Queen
+in his arms, and the royal coachman fall backwards off the
+box—and—and—both the horses burst out laughing?”
+
+“I’d get the sack for that,” Hal spluttered, busily plying her pencil,
+“and then I’d break my heart, because I’m in love with the chief.”
+
+“Oh”—with a low laugh, “and is it quite hopeless?”
+
+“Quite. The most hopeless _grande passion_ that ever was. He’s been
+married twice already, and the second is still very much alive. Did the
+Queen wear a black hat, or a dark purple one?”
+
+“Dark purple, of course, like her dress. Why, I could write the thing
+better than you.”
+
+“I’m sure you could, if you might have half the newspaper. I don’t know
+where you’d be in thirty-six lines!”
+
+“By Jove! Have you got to squeeze it all into thirty-six lines?”
+
+“Less, if possible. There’s been a row in Berlin, and we have to allow
+for thrilling developments, which may crowd out lots of other
+paragraphs.”
+
+“And supposing you want it a few lines longer?”
+
+“Then the compiler will add a bit on about the weather, or throw in
+another dress description, or something. I’m putting you in now,”
+scribbling on; “but I don’t know your name?”
+
+“And I’m not going to tell it to you for your precious paragraph, so
+you’ll have to cross that bit out again.”
+
+“Not at all,” airily: “a well-known aeronaut, who has recently beaten
+the distance-record, and is looking remarkably well in spite of his
+advanced years, was among the distinguished guests!”
+
+He had to cry “pax” then.
+
+“I give you up,” he said; “you’re too much for me! But I’ll take you
+for a fly the first opportunity I get. Will you come?”
+
+“Will I come!...” in eager tones. “Oh, won’t I?”
+
+And he promised to arrange it.
+
+When they reached Euston, Hal had to dash for the first taxi, and tear
+to the office with her report, and it was not until she was leaving
+that the call boy told her a gentleman had asked for her on the
+telephone in the afternoon.
+
+“Did he give any name?” she asked.
+
+“Yes, Mr. Crathie.”
+
+Hal suppressed a smile. “I suppose you told him I was out.”
+
+“Yes, miss. He wanted to know when you would be back, and I asked Mr.
+Watson, and he told me to say ‘Not before evening.’”
+
+Hal climbed to the top of a bus, and journeyed homewards with a
+thoughtful air. Of course he would ring her up again the next day, and
+then what was she to say?
+
+In the meantime, looming big in her immediate horizon was the visit to
+be paid to Holloway that evening. She was going up without Dudley,
+having expressed a wish to do so, with which he had willingly complied.
+She felt it would be easier not to appear forced without him, and would
+be fairer on Doris also. Yet she dreaded the visit very much, and
+longed that it was over.
+
+Ethel opened the door to her, as she happened to be in the little
+kitchen close beside it, and Hal thought she looked very ill as she
+grasped her hand with warm friendliness, saying:
+
+“How nice of you to come and see Doris so soon.”
+
+“What are you doing in the kitchen?” said Hal. “I want to come and
+help.”
+
+“I’m only making a salad, and shall not be long. You must go to the
+parlour”; and she laughed at the quaint, old-fashioned word.
+
+“No, I’m coming to help,” and Hal walked past her, through the open
+door. “How’s Basil? Dudley spoke as if he was not quite so well just
+now.”
+
+“I’m afraid he isn’t,” with sudden, hardly veiled anxiety; “but it may
+only be the foggy weather.”
+
+To any one else Ethel would probably have asserted that he was well as
+usual, and changed the subject; but she liked Hal specially, and showed
+it by being quite honest with her. She also knew perfectly well that
+Dudley’s engagement must have been a great shock to his only sister,
+not solely because she had nothing whatever in common with Doris, but
+because she herself must love him; and her heart felt very tender and
+friendly over her.
+
+Although Hal had come to see Doris, she did not refrain from following
+her inclination, and seating herself on the kitchen table to chat to
+Ethel while she made the salad. Doris would keep, was her rapid mental
+conclusion, and they two might not get another chance of a few words
+alone.
+
+Chatting thus, it was interesting to note the similarity that existed
+between these wielders of the pen, each daily immersed in a City
+office.
+
+Each had the same clear, frank eyes, the same independent poise of
+head, the same air of capable energy and self-dependence. Each, too,
+had the same rather colourless skin, from lack of fresh air, though
+whereas Ethel looked tired and worn, Hal seemed strong and fresh and
+wore no air of delicacy.
+
+Then Doris came, with her pink-and-white daintiness, and spoke to them
+both with a little triumphant air of condescension; for was not she
+engaged to be married, whereas clever, working women usually became
+“old maids”?
+
+Hal tried not to seem too offhand, but it was quite impossible for her
+to gush, and she could not pretend a sudden affection just because of
+the engagement. So she just said something about Dudley being very
+happy, and hoped they would have good luck, and then went to the
+sitting-room to talk to Basil, entertaining him immensely with her
+account of the day’s ceremony, and her haphazard friendship with the
+“flying man”, who was going to take her in his aeroplane.
+
+“Who was he?” Basil asked. “Has he won any prizes?”
+
+“I don’t know. He did not tell me. I did not discover his name either,
+but he was some relation of the ‘Lord-of-the-Manor’ person who received
+the King.”
+
+“You don’t know his name?” asked Doris in a shocked voice. “Weren’t you
+introduced?”
+
+“Never a bit of it,” laughed Hal. “I was left behind when the last fly
+had gone to the station, and he heard me asking anxiously how soon one
+would get back again, and immediately offered me a seat in the motor he
+was going in. Another man was with him, a much be-medalled officer, who
+was somewhat heavy in hand to talk to, and at the station we gave him
+the slip.”
+
+“How can he take you for a fly if you don’t know who he is?”
+
+“Well, I dare say he won’t; quite likely he didn’t mean it; but if he
+did, he can easily find me at the office. He knew my name, and what
+paper I was there for. They both knew, which probably accounts for the
+gentleman with the medals being somewhat ponderous—soldiers are usually
+snobbish—and he may not have liked having to ride to the station with a
+newspaper woman.”
+
+“But if the other man was the Lord of the Manor’s brother?”
+
+“Oh, that wouldn’t make any difference. He might very well be less
+self-important than anything in a bit of scarlet and medals if he had
+been the Lord of the Manor himself. Why, the Earl of Roxley got tea for
+me, and was most attentive.”
+
+Doris’s eyes opened wider. She had always secretly entertained rather a
+superior attitude towards Hal and her sister, and was glad she was not
+an office clerk. The big, breezy, working world, where the individual
+is taken on his or her merits apart from birth, or standing, or
+occupation, was quite unknown to her; and that Hal’s original,
+attractive personality might open doors for ever shut to her mediocre,
+pretty young-ladyhood, would never enter her mind.
+
+“I don’t think I should care to talk to any one without being
+introduced,” she remarked a little affectedly, to which Hal shrugged
+her shoulders and commented:
+
+“It’s just as well you haven’t to knock about in the world, then. Any
+one with an ounce of common sense and perspicacity knows when it is
+safe, and when it is sheer folly.”
+
+Basil watched her with an amused air.
+
+“I’m sure you do,” he said.
+
+“Yes.” She smiled infectiously. “I’ve only once been spoken to
+unpleasantly in London, after knocking about for seven years, and then
+I offered the man a sixpence. I said: ‘I’m sorry I haven’t any more,
+and I can’t spare that, but if you are hungry!...’ He looked as if he
+would like to slay me, and vanished.”
+
+Doris still looked slightly disapproving, and when at last Hal rose to
+go, she half-unconsciously asked Ethel with her eyes to accompany her
+to get her hat, instead of her prospective sister-in-law. And when they
+were alone, Ethel looked into Hal’s expressive face, and guessing
+something of what she carefully hid, said sympathetically:
+
+“You and Dudley have always been so much to each other; I am afraid you
+must feel it a little having to share him already with another.”
+
+Suddenly and inexplicably Hal’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned
+away quite unable to answer.
+
+Ethel pretended not to notice, but her heart bled for her, knowing how
+much worse it was than just the fact of the engagement.
+
+“I’m so wrapped up in Basil,” she went on, “that if it had happened to
+me I should have felt quite heartbroken, however much I told myself I
+wanted his happiness.”
+
+Hal dabbed her eyes a little viciously.
+
+“Of course I want him to be happy,” she managed to say; “but it is nice
+of you to understand.”
+
+“There’s one thing,” Ethel continued, “you will become a sort of
+relation, and you’ve no idea how pleased Basil and I will be about
+that.”
+
+“Will you?” Hal smiled through her tears, “I rather wonder at it.”
+
+“Of course we shall. Basil and I think you are one of the finest
+characters we have ever known. You’ve no idea how proud we are when you
+come to see us,” which proved Ethel’s understanding heart, for a little
+generous praise is a kind healer to a sore spirit.
+
+Hal looked into her eyes, with a pleased light in her own.
+
+“You are too generous, but it’s nice to be thought well of by any one
+like you and Basil. I shall remember it when I am silly enough to be
+downhearted, and it will cheer me up.”
+
+She had to hurry away then to catch a train, and as she went her mind
+was full of the thought:
+
+“Why, oh why, had Dudley, in his blindness, wooed the younger sister?”
+
+“Well?” he said, as she entered their sitting-room, where he was
+reading over the fire. “How did you get on?”
+
+“Oh, splendidly”—trying to throw a little enthusiasm into her voice.
+“Doris looked amazingly pretty.”
+
+She show a soft light in his eyes, and because it rather maddened her,
+she hastened to add: “But I see a great change in Basil.”
+
+“Yes?... I wondered if you would. I was afraid he did not seem so
+well.”
+
+“Dudley”—with sudden seriousness—“when Basil dies, it will just about
+break Ethel up. She idolises him.”
+
+“I know; but she can hardly wish him to live on if he continues to grow
+worse.”
+
+“I suppose not; but it’s rather awful to think of what it will mean to
+her to lose him. And she’s so sympathetic and tender-hearted.” Hal
+stood a moment looking gravely at the fire—“you know, I think she’s the
+most splendid person I’ve ever known.”
+
+“Splendid!...” a trifle testily. “Why? Splendid seems an odd word to
+use.”
+
+“It’s the one that suits Ethel Hayward best of all. Anything else would
+be too commonplace. When I think what her life is—the endless struggle
+to make both ends meet—work morning, noon, and night—and on the top of
+it all the brother she adores a helpless, suffering invalid, it quite
+overawes me. If she were bitter and complaining it would be different,
+but she is nearly always cheerful and hopeful and ready to think of
+some one else’s troubles. And yet she isn’t goody-goody—nor what one
+describes as ‘worthy’; she’s just human through and through.”
+
+“She sometimes seems to me a little severe,” he said.
+
+“Severe!... Oh, Dudley, she is the kindest soul alive.”
+
+“Perhaps she was tired; but it seemed to me, considering Doris’s youth,
+she expected rather a lot of her.”
+
+“Ah!...”
+
+Hal turned away, and picked up an evening paper. The exclamation might
+have meant anything, yet Dudley half knew it meant that in some way Hal
+believed Doris had wilfully misrepresented her sister, and, naturally
+resenting the inference, he returned to his book and said no more.
+
+Hal lingered a little longer, passed one or two remarks on the evening
+news, told him of her day in the country, and then went to bed.
+
+Yet, in spite of her soreness towards Doris, something in her evening
+with Ethel had unaccountably cheered and refreshed her—the kindly
+praise, the warm-hearted affection, the sight of the strong, womanly
+face, unembittered by its heavy sorrow.
+
+Hal stood at her window, and glanced out over the City, and felt
+renewed in her determination to withstand Sir Edwin Crathie’s advances.
+She knew that he was treating her with a lack of respect he would not
+have dared to show a woman in his own circle.
+
+He was treating her as a City typist; and however much she wished to
+prolong it, she knew she owed it to herself to cut it adrift.
+
+And the next day, when the anticipated telephone call came, her
+resolution was firm and unshaken.
+
+“Tell the gentleman I am engaged,” she told the call boy.
+
+He came back again a moment later to know what time she would be
+disengaged, and she gave the message: “It is quite impossible to say. I
+have some most important work on hand.”
+
+The small boy grinned in a way that made Hal long to box his ears, but
+she returned to her work, and pretended not to see.
+
+At the other end of the wire the speaker sat back in his chair and
+muttered an oath; then for some moments he stared gloomily at his desk.
+
+“Damn it! I like her pluck,” ran his thoughts; “but I don’t mean to be
+put off like that. I’ve got to see her again somehow, if it’s only to
+prove I’m not the cad she thinks me.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+The following afternoon when Hal left the office about half-past four
+she saw a motor she recognised a little way down the street, and was
+almost immediately accosted by Sir Edwin himself.
+
+“I knew you left at this time,” he said frankly, “so I came to meet
+you.”
+
+Hal looked a little taken aback.
+
+“I wonder why you did that,” was all she found to say.
+
+“Well, it was the only way, since you won’t come to the telephone, and
+I am afraid to call on you in Bloomsbury. I want to talk to you. Come
+along and have some tea.”
+
+Hal hesitated, looking doubtfully at the motor, but he urged her on.
+
+“Come; surely you’re not afraid to have a cup of tea with me. We’ll go
+to the Carlton—or the Ritz if you prefer it—and take a conspicuous
+table.”
+
+“In my office garments!” with a low laugh. “I don’t want to be taken
+for your housekeeper.”
+
+“My housekeeper is a deuce of a swell,” laughing in his turn. “She
+certainly wouldn’t be seen in a last year’s frock; but you’re one of
+the lucky people who manage to look smart, even in office clothes, as
+you call them—so come along.”
+
+Hal got into the motor.
+
+“Which is it to be? Ritz or Carlton?”
+
+“Oh, Carlton—and not the centre table.”
+
+“How do you manage it?” he said, as they glided off, looking at her
+with critical, admiring eyes.
+
+“Manage what? I wish you wouldn’t look at me like a doctor studying my
+health. I shall put my tongue out in a minute.”
+
+“Don’t do that. A colleague or an opponent would be sure to be looking,
+and I don’t know which would be worse. Manage to look smart in
+anything, of course I mean.”
+
+“Oh, it’s Lorraine Vivian and her maid; they loathe to see me dowdy.”
+
+“With a little help from the Almighty, who gave you a haughty little
+nose and a short upper lip,” he told her laughingly. “You’re been very
+angry with me, I’m afraid, and no doubt I deserved it, but I’m going to
+make you be friends again and forgive me.”
+
+“You won’t find it easy.”
+
+“I dare say not; but I’m going to try all the same. Shall I begin with
+a humble apology?”
+
+“You couldn’t be humble. I shouldn’t believe in it.”
+
+“I believe I could with you—which means a great deal. Tell me, were you
+fully determined not to speak to me on the telephone, and not to see me
+again?”
+
+“Most certainly I was.”
+
+“What nonsense! And did you really suppose I should submit without
+making an effort to see you, and persuade you to be friends again?”
+
+Hal tilted her nose up a little, and glanced away as she replied a
+trifle scathingly:
+
+“I supposed, having found I was not the sort of girl you imagined, and
+not one you could take liberties with, that possibly our friendship
+would cease to interest you.”
+
+He coloured slightly.
+
+“You hit hard, but I suppose I have deserved it. I shall now have to
+prove to you that I’ve turned over a new leaf, and deserve it no
+longer.”
+
+They stopped before the Carlton as he spoke, and he led the way into
+the lounge, and to a side table.
+
+“I’m sure you’ll trust me this far,” he said; “people stare so when one
+is in the middle of the room.”
+
+Hal sat down and drew off her gloves, feeling, in spite of herself,
+unmistakably happy. It was good to be there, instead of trudging home
+to Bloomsbury; and it was specially good to be chatting to him again.
+
+A dear friend may be always a dear friend, and yet not just the one one
+wants at the moment. When things are difficult, and irritating, and
+disappointing, the pleasantest companion is apt to be one with so much
+individual regard for us at the time that we can hold forth upon our
+troubles without any fear of boring our listener.
+
+When Hal had poured her tale of woe into Lorraine’s ear, she had known
+that Lorraine was genuinely interested and sorry—and yet, also, that
+something else occupied her mind at the same time. Sitting now,
+opposite to Sir Edwin Crathie, it was perfectly apparent for the time
+being that his mind was entirely at her service.
+
+This was further shown by the fact that he realised something was
+worrying her before she told him.
+
+“What’s the matter?” he asked abruptly; “you look as if something very
+boring had happened.”
+
+“It has.”
+
+Hal kept her eyes lowered a moment, with a thoughtful air, and the
+corners of the fascinating mouth drooped a little.
+
+“What has happened?... Tell me what is bothering you.”
+
+He spoke peremptorily, yet with an evident concern for her that made
+the peremptory tone dangerously alluring. Hal remained silent, though
+she felt her pulses quicken, and he added:
+
+“Come, we are going to be friends again; aren’t we? I’ve told you I’m
+very sorry; I can’t do more. You will really have to forgive me now.”
+
+She looked into his face, and something in his eyes told her he was
+quite genuine for the time. Of course it might be rash, and unwise, and
+various other things, but it had been a difficult, trying week, and his
+sympathy was passing good now. Sir Edwin met her gaze for a moment, and
+then lowered his.
+
+He thought it was chiefly when her eyes laughed that he wanted to kiss
+her, but when they had that serious, rather appealing expression, he
+began to feel they were more disturbing still. Mastering his
+unmanageable senses with an effort, he looked up again, and said:
+
+“Well, what is it? Of course you must tell me.”
+
+“Brother Dudley is going to be married,” said Hal with her usual
+directness.
+
+“When?” And Sir Edwin gave a low exclamation of surprise. “Isn’t it
+rather sudden?”
+
+“Very,” in dry tones.
+
+“And I suppose you don’t want to love your prospective sister-in-law
+all in a hurry.”
+
+“I don’t want to love her at all.”
+
+“Then I don’t suppose you will,” with a little laugh. “Presumably you
+know her.”
+
+“I have known her a long time. If I had been asked, she is the last
+girl I could have believed Dudley would care for. I don’t believe he
+does care for her in the real sense. She is very pretty, and she wanted
+to marry him, and she just played on his feelings.”
+
+“What do you call ‘in the real sense’?” he asked pointedly.
+
+A pink spot burned in Hal’s cheeks; she felt the question a little
+beside the mark, and did not want to answer it.
+
+“She has rather a dull home, and is very poor, and I think she thought
+on the whole life would be improved if she were Dudley’s wife.”
+
+“And that is not the real sense?” insistently.
+
+“It certainly is not love.”
+
+“Well, you haven’t yet told me what is?”
+
+“I don’t know much about it, and”—hastily—“I don’t want to. When it’s
+real it hurts, and when it isn’t real it’s just feebleness.”
+
+“Still, you must know some day.”
+
+He liked to see the spot of colour spreading in her cheeks, and the
+frank eyes growing a little defiant as he pressed her against her will.
+
+“It doesn’t follow that I must. Perhaps I shall just be feeble, and
+marry for a home and luxuries.”
+
+“Never,” with conviction. “You’ll—Hal, you’ll get it badly when once
+you’re caught.”
+
+“I never said you might call me ‘Hal’.”
+
+“Didn’t you? Well, I apologise. May I?”
+
+She could not help laughing.
+
+“You evidently mean to; and I suppose you usually have your own way.”
+
+“Very often. That’s sensible of you. Of course you are sometimes
+annoying sensible and practical. I don’t know that I ever liked any one
+quite so level-headed before. It never appealed to me. Yet, somehow, I
+think you could lose your head. You’ve got it in you to do so. I
+wouldn’t give tuppence for a woman who hadn’t.”
+
+Hal was silent, and, as usual, he pressed his point.
+
+“Do you think you could lose your head?”
+
+“I don’t think I shall,” was the evasive answer.
+
+“I wonder,” he said.
+
+She felt him looking hard into her face, and moved restlessly beneath a
+scrutiny that quickened her pulses and warmed her blood in a way that
+was altogether new. Then suddenly she looked up.
+
+“Don’t you think we are rather talking drivel? Let’s get back to the
+original subject. I don’t want to lose my head—it’s rather a nice
+one—sound and reliable and all that.”
+
+He sat back in his chair with a laugh.
+
+“You’re very clever,” he told her admiringly. “I always seem to be
+out-flanked in the end. Very well then, Brother Dudley has got engaged
+foolishly, and Hal has been quietly fretting, instead of being a
+sensible little woman, and telling her friend all about it straight
+away. What are you going to do now?”
+
+“I can’t do anything. He won’t get married for a few months anyway.”
+
+“And when he does?”
+
+“Then I shall stay where I am, and make the best of it, I suppose...
+but... but”—her voice broke a little—“I’m a positive fool about Dudley.
+I can’t bear to lose him.”
+
+“Poor little woman. Well, I’ll be good to you if you’ll let me. I dare
+say I can brighten things up a little. Every cloud has a silver lining,
+you know.”
+
+“I don’t know where Dudley’s will be,” with a wintry smile. “It
+wouldn’t be so hard if I thought there was any chance of his being
+happy. But there isn’t. He doesn’t in the least know her real
+character.”
+
+They sat on until seven o’clock, and then Hal rose to go, feeling
+happier than she had done ever since they last met.
+
+“Well, am I forgiven?” he asked, as she buttoned her gloves.
+
+“You are, for the present,” with an arch glance; “but I reserve the
+right to retract at a moment’s notice.”
+
+“And in the meantime you will prove it by coming out to lunch on
+Sunday? We might go to the Zoo afterwards, and make friends with some
+of the animals.”
+
+At the first suggestion of lunch Hal had been ready to shy away, but
+the idea of the Zoo on Sunday afternoon was too much for her, and she
+said with unmistakable longing:
+
+“I should simply love the Zoo.” Then, after a pause: “Couldn’t I meet
+you there about three?”
+
+“But why wait until three? It is not very friendly of you to refuse to
+lunch with me.”
+
+“I usually go to Lorraine”—somewhat lamely.
+
+“Why not bring Miss Vivian with you?”
+
+“Oh, could I?” eagerly; “that would be splendid—if she is disengaged.”
+
+A curious little half smile crossed his eyes at her eagerness; but he
+only said:
+
+“Certainly, and if she cares to bring a friend, to make the party an
+even number, I shall be only too pleased. Shall we say the Piccadilly,
+for a change, at 1.30?”
+
+Hal thanked him, and as she sped homewards in a taxi he had procured
+for her, she viewed the prospect with real delight.
+
+Dudley, of course, would be spending his Sunday with Doris, and she and
+Lorraine, supposing the latter were disengaged, might have found the
+afternoon a little long alone. The evening was the occasion of the
+dinner-party to commemorate Alymer Hermon’s first brief, so it was very
+likely Lorraine would be free at midday.
+
+She thought it was nice of Sir Edwin to invite her friend as well, and
+as she reviewed the afternoon meeting, her heart was foolishly glad
+over his apology, and insistent determination to be friends. It was
+evident, she believed, that if she adhered to her resolute resistance
+of familiarity, she would be able to keep him at a discreet distance,
+and they might enjoy a really delightful friendship.
+
+Her eyes were smiling and glad at the little upper window that night.
+She had hated cutting off their friendship. The days had been dull and
+dragging without even a telephone chat with him; and though she still
+told herself it was chiefly because of the shock of Dudley’s
+engagement, she knew it was a little for his sake also.
+
+And she thought further, if they might now include Lorraine in some of
+their meetings, it would be an added safeguard, and very entertaining
+as well. She meant to telephone to her the first thing in the morning
+to fix up their Sunday engagement.
+
+Inquiries on the telephone, however, the next morning, elicited the
+information that Lorraine had already arranged to go out to lunch; and
+thus Hal found herself unexpectedly thrown on her own resources. A
+little note from Ethel asking her to accompany Dudley if she had
+nothing better to do, placed her in a further awkward position.
+
+She did not want to go to Holloway, to swell the number of mouths to be
+fed out of Ethel’s slender housekeeping purse, and add one more to be
+cooked for, etc., on Ethel’s one free day. Finally, because it was the
+simplest, as well as the pleasantest thing to do, she telephoned Sir
+Edwin, and told him Lorraine could not accompany her on Sunday, but she
+would be there herself, and afterwards go to the Zoo.
+
+And at the other end of the wire Sir Edwin smiled, an enigmatical smile
+that was unmistakably pleased, as he put back the receiver, and glanced
+towards the cosy fire in his grate.
+
+“I wonder,” he said to himself meditatively, “if one could make her
+care, whether she could care enough to lose her head.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+It was rather a curious circumstance, that on the occasion of
+Lorraine’s dinner-party, Alymer Hermon was the first to notice an
+indefinable change in Hal. To the others she was only gayer than usual,
+more sparkling, better-looking.
+
+From the Zoological Gardens Sir Edwin had taken her home in a taxi, and
+after being a delightful companion all the afternoon, had said good-bye
+in just the friendly, pally spirit that Hal wished, without exhibiting
+any alarming symptoms whatever to disturb her peace of mind. He had
+indeed been at his very best; far nicer than ever before; and together
+they had thoroughly enjoyed their intercourse, through iron bars, with
+the animals they both loved.
+
+Moreover, his knowledge on most subjects did not exclude zoology, and
+he was able to tell her numberless little details of the ways and
+habits of beasts that Hal rejoiced to hear, because she loved all
+four-footed things.
+
+And then there had been the pleasant consciousness of a new winter
+costume, that was not only very up to date, but remarkably becoming;
+and Hal was true woman enough to enjoy the knowledge that she looked
+her best. Neither was it in any degree a mediocre “best”; and even Sir
+Edwin was a little surprised to find himself with a companion who
+attracted nearly as many admiring glances as various lady friends who
+were recognised beauties.
+
+Her slim, graceful figure was singularly perfect, and, as he observed
+with fresh pleasure each time they met, she walked with a natural
+elegance and grace that were a delight to the eye. And happiness gave a
+faint pink flush to her cheeks and a light to her eyes, that somehow
+seemed to radiate gaiety; and her intense power of enjoyment
+communicated itself to others in a way that was wholly delightful.
+
+So they spent a gay afternoon, which cemented the former
+acquaintanceship into a firmer bond of friendship, and because of it he
+vowed within himself he would play fair with her, and make no more
+advances he was not prepared to follow up in an honourable spirit.
+
+For Hal, it was enough that the past mistake seemed genuinely regretted
+and wiped out, and that all his manner to her now held deference and
+respect. And she was intensely glad—almost alarmingly glad, if she had
+stopped to consider; only that would have cast a shadow on the
+sunshine; and she preferred to take the sunshine while it offered, and
+leave the future to take care of itself.
+
+And in the meantime there was Lorraine’s dinner-party, instead of a
+lonely evening, and once more she dressed herself with care and skill;
+and later stood up straight and slim in Lorraine’s pretty drawing-room,
+radiating happiness, and surprising even old friends with her good
+looks.
+
+Alymer Hermon remarked it first. He was standing beside her on the
+hearth, and he looked down from his great height with laughing,
+quizzical eyes and said:
+
+“You’re looking astonishingly pretty tonight. Have you been consulting
+a beauty specialist?”
+
+Dick Bruce and Quin laughed delightedly.
+
+“Why, of course!” cried Dick, digging his hands deep into his pockets,
+and giving himself a little gleeful shake, “I’ve been puzzling my head
+to grasp what it was. I’d forgotten all about the beauty specialists.
+It must have cost an awful lot, Hal.”
+
+“It did,” she told them; “but you’ve no idea how clever they are. They
+can renovate the most hopeless faces. I’m sure you’d all find it worth
+while running to the expense.”
+
+“Now, come Hal,” objected Quin laughingly. “We can’t have the ornament
+of our flat insulted like that. The rising barrister needs no beauty
+specialist, you must admit.”
+
+Hal looked up at the giant with twitching lips.
+
+“I was going to suggest a brain specialist for him. It won’t be much
+use getting lots of briefs because he looks nice in his wig and gown if
+he hasn’t the brains to win his cases.”
+
+Hermon caught her by the shoulders to shake her, and at that moment
+Lord Denton quietly entered the room.
+
+Lorraine had met him in the hall, while hastening across for something
+she had forgotten, and told him to go in, so that he entered
+unannounced, and saw the group before they knew of his presence.
+
+Especially he seemed to see the two on the hearthrug. Hal, with her
+shining eyes, rising coulour, and laughing lips, and Hermon with a sort
+of answering glow in his face, boyishly gripping her shoulders as if to
+shake her. He stood and looked at them a moment without speaking, then
+Hal espied him, and thinking he had that instant entered, exclaimed:
+
+“Help!... Help!... Lord Denton, I am caught in the clutches of
+Leviathan.”
+
+He came forward smillingly.
+
+“Leviathan does not look as if he meant to eat you; and even if he did,
+I don’t believe my courage would run to closing with
+six-foot-five-and-a-half.”
+
+“Awful, isn’t it?” she said, releasing herself and giving him her hand.
+“He is like those lanky pieces of corn which are all stalk and no head.
+Have you seen him before?”
+
+“Once,” offering his hand to Hermon. “Delighted to see you again. I
+hear you’ve made a hit already. My cousin tells me his friend is
+charmed with your way of grappling with her case.”
+
+“Did you take her by the shoulders?” asked Hal wickedly, rubbing her
+own.
+
+“No,” Lord Denton told her. “He was very grave indeed. You must give
+him his due, Miss Pritchard. You’ve seen him grave yourself, haven’t
+you now?”
+
+“Yes; and he looked like a boiled owl. On the whole, I prefer him
+imbecile.”
+
+Alymer turned on her threateningly, but she slipped behind the other
+two, saying:
+
+“Have you met these also, Lord Denton. Mr. St. Quintin, of Shoreditch,
+and my cousin, Dick Bruce, poet, novelist, and mother’s help.”
+
+Denton shook hands with them genially, and then Lorraine came back, and
+they all followed her to the dining-room.
+
+The repast was a very gay one. Every one was in the best of spirits,
+and, which is more important still, all were in attune, and there was
+no dissentient note. Hal was perhaps the gayest, and Lord Denton found
+himself watching her almost if he were seeing her for the first time.
+She seemed to him to have developed amazingly in the few months since
+he last met her, but he supposed girls of her age often developed
+quickly.
+
+Yet even then it seemed a little strange that the merry, rather crude
+young typist, as he had regarded her before, should so easily appear a
+sparkling, distinguished guest. He could not help a little mental
+comparision with Lorraine, not in any way to the latter’s detriment,
+but with a vague thought at the back of his mind concerning her and
+Hermon.
+
+Lorraine would always be beautiful: her whole face and form were
+modelled on lines that would stand the ravages of many years; and for
+him she would ever be one of the dearest of women; but could she match
+Hal’s young, vigorous, independence, that was very likely to prove more
+attractive than a generously given devotion?
+
+Men, like women, are drawn to an indifference that piques them; and he,
+man of the world that he was, foresaw a strong irresistible attraction
+about Hal’s spirited independence.
+
+But, on the other hand, Lorraine was intensely sympathetic and
+understanding, as well as beautiful; and it seemed strange indeed if
+any man she chose to enslave could resist her.
+
+He watched Hermon bend his fair head down to her dark one, with an
+affectionate, protective air, that was very becoming to him; and
+observed that with Hal it was all sparring, and told himself Lorraine
+had nothing to fear.
+
+They toasted Hermon on his brief, and on the laurel wreath Dick
+announced he already perceived sprouting on his manly brow. Hal said it
+was only a daisy chain, or the halo of a cherubim; and the laurels were
+rightly sprouting on Dick’s brow as a novelist.
+
+Hermon returned thanks in a witty, clever little speech, during which
+Lorraine seemed scarcely able to take her eyes from his face, and Lord
+Denton recognised more fully the extraordinary attraction such a man
+must wield, whether by intention or quite unconsciously.
+
+He pictured him towering a head and shoulders above nearly every one
+around at the law courts, with his clear-cut, fine face, looking yet
+more striking in the severe setting of a wig and gown; and he knew that
+Lorraine had made no mistake when she said he only wanted impetus and a
+chance to make a name for himself. If he could rap out a dainty little
+speech like this at a moment’s notice, wearing just that air of
+unpretentious, boyish humour, his path ought undoubtedly to be a path
+of roses, petted by women, admired and appreciated by men.
+
+“In conclusion,” he was saying, “may I suggest a toast to Miss
+Pritchard? I am sure you will all join me in offering her our warmest
+congratulations upon her sudden and unlooked-for promotion, from a
+somewhat nondescript young person to a brilliant and beautiful society
+belle.”
+
+“Speech! speech!” cried Dick and Quin to her gleefully, noisely
+rattling their glasses, and Hal got to her feet.
+
+“Ladies and gentlemen and Baby Alymer Hermon,” she began. “You must
+allow me to acknowledge your kind toast by congratulating you all, in
+return, upon the sudden and swift development of you powers of vision
+and perspicacity: equalled only, I may say, by your extraordinary
+dullness in not having observed long ago those traits for which you are
+pleased, at this late hour, to offer me your congratulations. Before I
+sit down I should like to suggest we all drink the healths of the
+celebrated actress who is our hostess, of a bishop in the making—”
+signifying Quin; “a great novelist in the brewing, and a gentleman
+justly celebrated for the eloquence and ease with which he does nothing
+at all”—and she bowed to Lord Denton.
+
+“Capital!” he exclaimed. “I am evidently dining in very distinguished
+company tonight”; a little later, turning to Dick, he added: “How soon,
+may I ask, will this great novel be procurable by the general public?”
+
+Before Dick could reply, Hal intercepted gaily:
+
+“Well, I think the carrots and turnips have fallen out as to which
+takes precedence at a dinner-party: isn’t that so, Dick? And until the
+difficult question is settled, progress halts.”
+
+“Something of the kind,” agreed Dick promptly; “and there is also
+discord among the vegetable marrows and pumpkins on a similar question;
+but when the Baby Brigade has settled the views of the Trade Unions,
+and reversed the Osborne Judgment, we shall be able to proceed
+smoothly.”
+
+“It sounds a very extraordinary type of novel,” said Lorraine.
+
+“It is. I wanted, if possible, to write something even more imbecile
+than has ever yet been written. I have not the patience for great
+length; nor the wit for brilliant satire; nor the imagination for the
+popular, spicy, impossible, ill-flavoured romance; so I have chosen the
+other line, adopted by the great majority, and aim at purposeless,
+pointless imbecility.”
+
+“And is Hal the model for your heroine?” asked Hermon.
+
+When Hal’s indignation and epithets had subsided, Quin remarked that he
+supposed the book fairly bristled with mothers, and with paragraphs of
+good advice to them.
+
+“Well, yes,” Dick admitted. “There are certainly a good many
+mothers—far more mothers than wives, in fact.”
+
+“Oh, naughty!” put in Lord Denton.
+
+“Not at all. It has to do with a theory. It is to bring out the common
+sense of vegetables compared to humans. Humans condemn millions of
+women, specially born for motherhood, to purposeless, joyless
+spinsterhood, all on account of a prejudice. No green, brainless,
+commonplace vegetable would be guilty of such unutterable folly as
+that.”
+
+“Don’t be too sweeping,” quoth Quin. “In the East End women are still
+mothers from choice; and given decent, healthy conditions, they would
+proudly raise an army to protect their country from her threatening
+foes. It is not their fault that 50 per cent of their offspring are
+sickly, anaemic little weeds.”
+
+“It sounds as if your book has a serious side in spite of its
+imbecility?” suggested Lorraine.
+
+“Imbecility and madness are usually full of seriousness,” Dick told
+her—“far more so than commonplace rationalism.”
+
+“And do you want to revolutionise society?”
+
+“Oh dear no; what an alarming idea!”
+
+“Then what do you want?”—they asked him.
+
+“I want to see all the superfluous unemployed spinsters busy, happy
+mothers, patriotically contributing to raise a splendid fighting-force,
+for one thing, which will certainly be regarded as an utterly imbecile
+idea by a magnificently rational world.”
+
+“And have you any theory about it?” asked Lord Denton.
+
+“Nothing but the worn-out, commonplace, absurdly natural theories of
+the vegetable and animal kingdoms. My only chance is that, being so
+ancient, and so absurdly natural, the modern world may mistake them for
+something entirely new, and seize upon them with the fasionable avidity
+for novelties.”
+
+“Or they may lock you up,” suggested Quin.
+
+“In any case I’m afraid you’ll be too late,” Hal commented, with a half
+grave, half sarcastic air; “for before your theories can make any
+headway, England is likely to have given all her life-blood to systems,
+and restrictions, and cut-and-dried conventions, utterly regardless of
+her need for a strong protecting force to maintain her existence at
+all. Taken in the aggregate, she never has bothered much about the
+primary necessity for the best possible conditions for the mothers of
+the future.”
+
+“What a learned sentence, Hal,” put in Lorraine, looking amused. “Quite
+worthy of a militant suffragette.”
+
+“The announced suffragettes are not the only ones who care for
+England’s future,” she said. “I suppose I care a good deal because I’m
+in the newspaper world, and I know something of what she has to contend
+against in the way of petty party spirit and the self-aggrandising of
+some of her so-called leaders, who haven’t an ounce of true patriotism,
+and only want to shout something outrageous in a very loud voice, just
+to attract public attention.”
+
+“I think Bruce is right up to a certain point,” remarked Lord Denton.
+“We can hardly contemplate the reinstitution of polygamy, but it
+certainly ought to be the business of the State to see that every child
+born into the country is given the best possible conditions in which to
+become a good citizen and, if necessary, a good soldier.”
+
+“Isn’t there a Poor Law for that express purpose?” asked Lorraine.
+
+“Don’t speak of it,” commented Quin sadly. “Our Poor Law, like so many
+excellent institutions, is mostly run on a wrong basis. Huge sums of
+money are expended in procuring homes for homeless children, and the
+last thing that seems to be considered is the suitability of the home.
+Applications are accepted in a perfunctory, business-like way by
+guardians and others—and perhaps an inspector takes a casual glance
+round; but the moral aspect of the whole matter, as to character and
+habits, is mostly left to chance. We, who are on the spot, often have
+to rescue children from the homes the State has provided for them.”
+
+“It is more supervision, then, that you want?” asked Lord Denton.
+
+“It is a different sort of supervision altogether. It ought to be
+woman’s work, not man’s—women who are paid and encouraged and helped.”
+
+“But that might be defying some of the precious conventions,” put in
+Hal with a touch of scorn—“making women too important, don’t you know;
+and encouraging them to be something more than household ornaments. We
+can’t have that, even for the sake of the future. It would be too
+alarming. No; England will continue in her cast-iron rut of prejudice,
+until most of her soul-power is dried up, and only the husk of a great
+nation is left, to follow in the way of other husks.”
+
+“Then I will go to the new, young, strong nation, and watch her
+splendid rise,” quoth Dick.
+
+“Traitor!” they threw at him, but he was quite imperturbed. “Strength
+and vigour are better than old traditions and an enfeebled race; and
+somebody, somewhere on the globe, had got to listen to what I am bound
+to teach.”
+
+“You dear old Juggins,” said Hal, “when England has passed her zenith,
+and gone under to the new, strong race, you will be found sitting
+meditating among cabbages and green peas, like Omar Khayyám in his rose
+garden. The rest of us will have died in the fighting-line—except Baby,
+and they will put him under a glass case, and preserve him as one of
+the few fine specimens left of a decadent race—in spite of his
+brainlessness.”
+
+“Are we a decadent race?” asked Lorraine thoughtfully.
+
+“Only the House of Lords and a few leading Conservatives,” said Lord
+Denton with flippancy. “The workingman who has the courage to refuse to
+work, and the Liberal members who have the grit to demand salaries for
+upsetting the Constitution, led by a few eminent Ministers who delight
+to remove their neighbour’s landmark, and relieve his pocket, are the
+splendid fellows of the grand new opening era of prosperity and
+greatness.”
+
+“Still,” put in Quin hopefully, “it is very fashionable to go big-game
+shooting nowadays, and an African lion may yet chew up a few of them.”
+
+“Poor lion!” quoth Lorraine; “but what a fine finale for the king of
+beasts, to chew up the despoilers of kings. Shall we go to the
+drawing-room?” And she rose to lead the way.
+
+A Bridge table was arranged in an alcove for Hal and three of the men,
+and Lorraine and Hermon sat over the fire for preference. They were far
+enough away from the players to be able to speak of them unheard, and
+Hermon, in the course of their conversation, mentioned that he saw
+something different in Hal tonight to what he had noticed before.
+
+Lorraine thought she was only very lively, but Hermon looked doubtful.
+He could not express what he seemed to see, but in some way her
+liveliness held a new note. He thought she had more tone and a new kind
+of assurance, and he tried to explain it to Lorraine.
+
+“I expect she’s had a jolly afternoon,” was all Lorraine said, with a
+smile. “She has been to the Zoo with Sir Edwin Crathie.”
+
+“Has she?” significantly, and Hermon raised his eyebrows. “Are they
+still friends, then? I thought she only knew him slightly.”
+
+“That was at the beginning,” and Lorraine glanced at him with the smile
+deepening in her eyes. “There always has to be a beginning—doesn’t
+there?”
+
+But no answering smile shone in Alymer Hermon’s face, rather a slight
+shade of anxiety as he glanced across the room at Hal. “I should not
+like a sister of mine to have much to do with Sir Edwin Crathie,” he
+said gravely.
+
+“Perhaps not, you dear old Solemn-acre,” giving his arm a gentle pat;
+“but a sister of yours would not have learned early to battle with the
+world as Hal has.”
+
+“But surely if she is less protected than a sister of mine would have
+been, there is the greater cause for caution.”
+
+“There is no comparision. A sister of yours would always have known
+protection, and always rely on it, and if it failed her she might find
+herself in difficulties and dangers she hardly knew how to cope with.
+Hal faced the difficulties and the dangers early, and learnt to be her
+own defence and protector. Some women have to, you see. It is necessary
+for them to wield weapons and armour out of their own strength, and be
+prepared to be buffeted by a heartless world, and not be afraid. If you
+had a sister, you would want to keep her in cotton-wool, and never let
+any rough, enlightening experience come near her. If I had a daughter,
+I should like her to have the enlightening experience early, and learn
+to be strong and self-dependent like Hal; then I shouldn’t be afraid of
+her future.”
+
+She was silent a few moments, then added thoughtfully: “I think it
+would be better for society in general if the girls of the leisured
+classes knew more about the world, and were better able to take care of
+themselves; meaning, of course, with a pride like Hal’s in going
+straight because it’s the game.”
+
+Hermon’s eyes again strayed to Hal’s pretty head, with its glossy brown
+hair, and Lorraine continued after a pause:
+
+“If I’m afraid of anything with Hal, it is that she might let herself
+get to care for some one who isn’t worth her little finger, or some one
+who is out of her reach, or something generally impossible. She
+wouldn’t care lightly; and she’d get dreadfully hurt.”
+
+“But surely she couldn’t actually fall in love with a man like Edwin
+Crathie?” he remonstrated.
+
+“I wasn’t thinking of Sir Edwin specially. She goes about a great deal,
+you know, and meets many people. She has a strong vein of romance too.
+I always feel I shall be very glad when she is safely anchored, if only
+it is to the right man.”
+
+They were interrupted then by the Bridge players, who had finished
+their first rubber, and Lord Denton persuaded Hermon to change places
+with him for a time, and came to sit over the fire with Lorraine.
+Presently he too mentioned Hal.
+
+“She is the best woman Bridge player I have ever met,” he said. “She
+seems to be developing into something rather out of the ordinary.
+Hasn’t she grown much better-looking?”
+
+Lorraine smiled, a slow, sweet smile.
+
+“Alymer Hermon has just been praising Hal too,” she said; “I like to
+hear you men admire her; it shows you can appreciate sterling worth as
+well—well—shall we call it daring impropriety?”
+
+“You are a little severe.”
+
+“Am I? Well, you see, I know a good many men pretty intimately; and I
+have gleaned from various confiding moments that it is not the working
+woman chiefly, relying only on her own protection, who strays into the
+murky byways and muddy corners of life. It is surprisingly often the
+direction of the idle, home-guarded, bored young lady. Flip, if it came
+to a choice, I believe I would put my money on the worker. It’s such a
+splendid, healthy, steadying thing to have a real purpose and a real
+occupation; instead of just days and weeks of idle enjoyment. And as
+for temptations! Well, they abound pretty fully in both cases; it isn’t
+the amount of temptation likely to be encountered that matters, so much
+as the quality of the individual armour to meet it with.”
+
+“Still, when it comes to being hungry and cold and having no money?” he
+argued.
+
+“It doesn’t make much difference in the long run, except that one hopes
+The Man Above will surely find a wider forgiveness for the woman who
+was hungry and cold than for the woman who was just bored, but hadn’t
+the grit to find an aim and purpose to renew and invigorate a
+purposeless life. All the same, I’d like to see Hal safely anchored to
+a real good fellow. Flip, if you could persuade her to try, she’d make
+you a splendid wife.”
+
+“And what in the world should I do with a splendid wife?” laughing
+frankly into her face—“what an appalling possession! Lorry, old girl,
+I’ve got a splendid woman pal, and that’s good enough for me. If I ever
+want a wife you shall have the privilege of finding me one: but it
+won’t be until I am old and gouty, and then she had better be a
+hospital nurse, inured to irritability.”
+
+“You are quite hopeless,” shaking her head at him, “but I don’t
+particularly want to lose you as a friend, unless it is for Hal; so
+we’ll say no more.”
+
+“Sensible woman! And now I must really be off. I like your friends,
+Lorry. They’re very fresh. And of course Hermon is tremendous. You
+haven’t overdrawn him at all. Only to be careful. Remember the burnt
+child. A man like that ought to be made to wear a mask and hideous
+garments, for the protection of susceptible females.”
+
+“He would need to speak through a grating trumpet as well.”
+
+“Yes, I suppose he would. Even I can hear the attraction in his voice.
+It will be splendid when he begins to feel his feet in the law courts.
+We’ll make a celebrity of him, shall we—just for the interest of it.
+But it’s to be only a hobby, Lorraine, no entanglements, mind”—and he
+laughed his low, pleasant laught.
+
+“Very well, call it a hobby, or what you like—only keep him in mind
+now, Flip. I’ve got him into an ambitious spirit that means everything,
+if there is enough fuel at the beginning to keep it alight until it is
+a glowing pile quite capable of burning gaily alone.”
+
+“Right you are. I like him. You fan the flame, and I’ll rake up the
+fuel. I’ll speak to Hodson about him tomorrow. He’s always ready to
+lend a hand to a promising junior.”
+
+When they had all gone, Lorraine lingered a few moments by her
+fireside.
+
+“A hobby!” she breathed; “yes, why not? Man-making is almost equal to
+man-bearing. I have no son to spur up the Olympian heights; but what
+might I not do for Alymer, if… if—”
+
+She placed her hands on the mantelshelf, and leaned her forehead down
+on them.
+
+“Alymer,” she whispered, a little brokenly, “I wonder if I ought to be
+ready to give you all, and ask nothing? Perhaps make you all the
+splendid man you might be, just for some one else, and get nothing
+myself but a heart-ache?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+The winter months passed more or less uneventfully and pleasantly. The
+case in which Hermon had held his first brief, though in only a very
+secondary position, was rather splendidly won. An unlooked-for
+development in it roused public interest, and filled the Hall with
+spectators. Lord Denton went out of curiosity, and was present when
+Hermon, as an unknown junior, made his first public appearance.
+
+He was not the only man specially interested either; senior counsel on
+both sides had its grandiloquent eye on the new-comer, so to
+speak—interested to know how he would acquit himself. Afterwards they
+congratulated him very warmly, and Denton went to tell Lorraine he had
+made a hit.
+
+“He looked splendid,” he declared enthusiastically; “and he was
+delightfully calm and self-possessed. He’ll soon get another brief now.
+You see.”
+
+He did; and the future began to look very full of promise to this
+favourite of fortune.
+
+As Lorraine had predicted, his growing success filled his mind, and
+kept him safe from many pitfalls; while her sympathetic companionship
+satisfied him in other respects, and formed a substantial bulwark
+between him and the women who would have tried to spoil him.
+
+He had other women friends as well, but Lorraine felt they were not
+dangerous, by the way he talked of them. As long as he did not get
+foolishly engaged, and cripple his career at the very outset, as he
+easily might while he had no income to rely on, she did not fear. Lord
+Denton advised her to marry him to an heiress as soon as possible, but
+Lorraine knew better than to risk an impeding millstone of gold, and
+insisted he must just win his way through on the allowance his father
+gave him.
+
+In the meantime they were a great deal together, and though they seldom
+went to any public place alone, they occasionally broke their rule; and
+it was known, at any rate in theatrical circles, that Lorraine rarely
+went out with her own old set, and had grown reserved and quiet. Hal
+knew something of the absorbing friendship, but she still made light of
+it, and sparred with Hermon whenever she saw him—“for his good.”
+
+As a matter of fact, she did not go quite so much to Lorraine’s as
+usual herself; for many of the hours she had been accustomed to spend
+there she now spent with Sir Edwin Crathie. All through the winter they
+continued to take motor rides into the country; and often they went
+together to a quiet, unfashionable golf club, where they were both
+learning to overcome the intricacies and trials of that absorbing
+pastime.
+
+It was easy for Sir Edwin to silence curious tongues. He spoke of her
+quite frankly as his niece, and Hal more or less acquiesced, because it
+was simpler to arrange an afternoon’s golf, for Dudley had managed to
+become very thoroughly absorbed in Doris, and she asked no questions.
+
+The only two to raise any real objections were Dick and Alymer Hermon.
+Dick had to be talked round, and thoroughly impressed with Sir Edwin’s
+great age (of forty-eight), and though Hal did not state the actual
+years, she was perfectly correct in insisting that he was old enough to
+be her father; though she need not perhaps have said it in quite such a
+tone of ridiculing an absurd idea.
+
+Anyhow, Dick was pacified up to a certain point, and obliged to see
+that the new friendship did her good, keeping her cheerful and hopeful
+in spite of her bitter disappointment about Dudley’s engagement, and
+generally brightening the whole of the winter routine for her.
+
+With Hermon it was rather different. He was less cosmopolitan than
+Dick, and he insistently adhered to his first idea concerning what he
+would have felt had Hal been his sister.
+
+Why she should have been specially interested did not occur to him.
+Dick, of course, actually was a sort of brother, being much more so in
+a sense than many real brothers, as far as personal interest and
+protection went.
+
+When Has was first left an orphan she had been a great deal with him,
+at his own home, and they had always been special friends both then and
+since.
+
+But Hermon was in no sense either a brother or a special friend. They
+had never done anything else but spar, however, good-naturedly; and
+Lorraine, in consequence, twitted him once or twice about looking grave
+over Hal’s doings.
+
+And Hermon had laughed, and coloured a little, saying something about a
+feeling at the flat that they all had a sort of right in Hal, and he
+didn’t see what that brute, Crathie—a Liberal into the bargain—wanted
+to be taking her about for.
+
+He even went so far as to say something to Hal herself about it; one
+day, when they were alone in Lorraine’s drawing-room, waiting for her
+to come in, Hal had just told him frankly she had played golf with Sir
+Edwin the previous day; and in a sudden burst of indignation Hermon
+exclaimed:
+
+“I can’t think how you can be so friendly with the man. Surely you know
+what he is? He has about as much principle as my foot.”
+
+Hal had turned round and stared at him in blank astonishment.
+
+“Goodness gracious!” she exclaimed, “what an outburst! What has Sir
+Edwin done to hurt you?”
+
+But he stood his ground steadily.
+
+“You know it isn’t that. If you were my sister, I wouldn’t let you go
+out with him as you do.”
+
+“Then what a comfort for me, I’m not. And really, Baby dear! I’m much
+more adapted to be your mother.”
+
+“Rot!”
+
+He looked at her almost fiercely for a moment, scarcely aware of it
+himself, but with a sudden, swift, unaccountable resentment of the old
+joke. Hal, surprised again, backed away a little, eyeing him with a
+quizzical, roguish expression that made him want desperately to shake
+her.
+
+“Grandpapa,” she murmured, with a mock, apologetic air, “you really
+mustn’t get so worked up at—at your advanced years.”
+
+His face relaxed suddenly into laughter.
+
+“I don’t know whether I want to shake you or kiss you… you… you—”
+
+“Thanks, I’ll take the shake,” she interrupted promptly. “I certainly
+haven’t deserved such severe punishment as a kiss.”
+
+He took a step towards her, but she stood quite still and laughed in
+his face; and he could only turn away, laughing himself.
+
+Yet he was conscious that her attitude riled him. He was not in the
+least vain, but all the same it was absurd that Hal should persist in
+being the one woman who was not only utterly indifferent to his
+attractions, but seemed almost to scorn him for them. In some of the
+others it would not have mattered in the least—at any rate he thought
+so—but in Hal it was sheer nonsense.
+
+He liked her better than any one, except perhaps Lorraine, and he
+always enjoyed their sparring; but of course there was a limit, and she
+really might be seriously friendly sometimes; and anyhow he hated Sir
+Edwin Crathie.
+
+While he thought all this more or less vaguely, Hal watched him with
+undisguised amusement.
+
+“Don’t think so hard,” she said; “it spoils the line of your profile.”
+
+“Hang my profile!” he exclaimed, almost crossly. “Can’t you be serious
+for five minutes, you’re always so—so—”
+
+“Not at all. I’m perfectly serious. A frown doesn’t suit you one little
+bit. Imagine a scowl on one of Raphael’s cherubim.”
+
+“I don’t want to imagine anything so silly, and I’m not in the least
+like a cherub. It would be more sensible if you want to do some wise
+imagining, to think of Sir Edwin Crathie, and imagine yourself in the
+devil’s clutches.”
+
+“But I’ve not the smallest wish to be in Sir Edwin’s clutches, so why
+should I try to imagine it?… and you’re not at all polite, are you?”
+
+“I’m honest anyway; and I’ll warrant that’s more than he can rise to.”
+
+“But really, dear Alymer,” reverting again to the mocking tone, “at
+what period of your friendship with him have you had occasion to find
+him out?”
+
+“Your sarcasm won’t frighten me. A man knows more about this sort of
+thing than a girl. Of course he is all right in an ordinary way, but
+you are so often with him… Considering his political career, it is
+positively unpatriotic of you to be such close friends.”
+
+“Such nonsense! Do you want me to be as bigoted and narrow-minded as
+those Conservatives who are continually holding the party back, because
+they are quite incapable of realising there are two sides to a
+question? I don’t hold the same views as Sir Edwin at all. I’m not
+likely to, being on the staff of the _Morning Mail_; but that isn’t any
+reason why I should object to him as a friend.”
+
+“No; but his reputation might be.”
+
+Hal stamped her foot.
+
+“Oh, don’t stand there and talk about a man’s reputation in that
+superior, self-satisfied fashion. What is it to you anyhow? My
+friendship can’t possibly be any concern of yours.”
+
+She moved away with a restless, ruffled manner, and threw back at him:
+
+“Of course I’m awfully grateful to you for being so interested in my
+welfare, but your concern is a little misplaced. I am quite capable of
+taking care of myself, and have been for at least seven years.”
+
+He looked hurt, and about to retort, but at that moment Lorraine’s
+latch-key sounded in the door, and Hal went out into the hall to meet
+her.
+
+“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she remarked, as they re-entered together.
+“Baby is in one of his insufferable, superior moods, and is lecturing
+me on my friendship with Sir Edwin. And all because I casually
+mentioned I had had a game of golf with him.”
+
+Lorraine looked a little surprised, but she only remarked laughingly:
+
+“It’s a little fad of his to lecture. I rather like it; but I wonder he
+had the temerity to lecture you.”
+
+“Unfortunately, lecturing doesn’t instill common sense,” put in Hermon,
+“and it only requires common sense to understand Sir Edwin Crathie
+isn’t very likely to prove a satisfactory friend.”
+
+“You mean it only requires dense, narrow-minded self-satisfaction.
+Really, Baby, if you are so good to look at, there is surely a limit
+even to your permissible airs and graces”; and Hal tossed her head.
+
+“Now come, you two,” interposed Lorraine; “I don’t want quarreling over
+my tea. Give her some of that sticky pink-and-white cake, Alymer, and
+have some yourself, and you will soon both grow amiable again.”
+
+“He hasn’t got his bib,” Hal snapped, “and he knows his mother told him
+he was to have bread-and-butter first. You are not to spoil him, Lorry.
+Spoilt children are odious.”
+
+“So are conceited women,” he retorted. “It’s only that new hat that is
+making you so pleased with yourself.”
+
+“It’s a dear hat,” she commented. “You have to pin a curl on with it,
+else there’s a gap. I’m in mortal dread I shall lose the curl, or find
+it hanging down my back.”
+
+No more was said on the subject of Sir Edwin, but when Hal was about to
+leave, and found that Hermon was staying on, she pursed up her lips
+with an air of sanctimonious disapproval and said:
+
+“I don’t want to hurt any one’s feelings, but I’m not at all sure _Mr_.
+Hermont is quite a nice friend for you, Lorraine. His conversation is
+neither elevating nor improving, and I hardly like to go off now and
+leave you alone with him.”
+
+“Don’t worry,” Lorraine laughed. “He is improving every day under my
+tuition. I hope you can say as much for Sir Edwin.”
+
+“I can,” she answered frankly. “He has learnt quite a lot since I took
+him in hand; especially about women and the vote. He has positively
+made the discovery that they don’t all want it just for notoriety, and
+novelty; but I’m afraid he won’t succeed in convincing the other dense
+old gentlemen in the Cabinet. Good-bye!”
+
+“Be circumspect, O Youth and Beauty. And don’t let him over-eat
+himself, Lorry,” she finished, as she departed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+When Hermon was finding fault with Hal’s friendship for Sir Edwin
+Crathie, it had not apparently occured to him that his own friends and
+relations were likely enough to take precisely the same view of his
+friendship with Lorraine Vivian. He did not want to think it, any more
+than Hal had done, and therefore he conveniently ignored the
+probability, and indulged in the reflection that anyhow they were never
+likely to hear of it.
+
+Yet it was through them, and their ill-chosen mode of interference,
+that the first trouble arose, when that quiet, peaceful winter was
+over, and the spring arrived with renewing and vigour, and with new
+happenings in other beside the natural world.
+
+It was as though the one gladsome winter of pleasant companionship and
+firesides was given to them all—Dudley and Hal, Ethel and Basil,
+Lorraine and Hermon—before the wider issues of the future stepped in
+and claimed their toll of sorrow before they gave the deeper joys.
+
+Alymer Hermon’s father and mother were at this time living in a
+charming house at Sevenoaks, whither he went at least once a week to
+see them.
+
+His father had become more or less of a recluse, enjoying a quiet old
+age with his books; but his mother was an energetic, bigoted lady of
+the old school, who had allowed much natural kindliness to become
+absorbed in her devotion to church precepts and church works.
+
+When it first reached her ears that her only son, of boundless hopes
+and dreams, was continually with the actress Lorraine Vivian, she was
+horrified beyond words.
+
+Undoubtedly the story had been much magnified and embroidered, and
+accepted as a scandalous liaison or entanglement without any inquiry.
+To make matters worse, Mrs. Hermon belonged so thoroughly to the old
+school that she could not even distinguish between a clever celebrated
+actress and a chorus girl.
+
+The stage, to her, was a synonym which included all things theatrical
+in one comprehensive ban of immorality and vice, with degrees, of
+course, but in no case without deserving censure from the eminently
+respectable, well-born British matron. She could not have been more
+upset had the heroine of the story been the under housemaid; and indeed
+she placed actressess and housemaids in much the same category.
+
+Of course the friendship must be stopped, and stopped instantly. What a
+mercy of mercies she had discovered it so soon, and that now it might
+be nipped in the bud. Just at the very outset of his career, too, which
+had so astonishingly developed of late, and caused her such proud
+delight.
+
+That that surprising development, both in the career and the beloved
+son, might have anything to do with this dreadful entanglement was not
+to be thought of for a moment; and when Alymer’s father ventured to
+suggest thoughtfully and a little wonderingly that the friendship had
+certainly not harmed the boy, she turned on him with bitterness, ending
+up with the dictum that men were all alike when there was a woman in
+the case, and could not possibly form an unbiased opinion.
+
+After which, she went off to church to a week-day service, partly to
+pray for guidance in a matter in which she had already firmly decided
+what line to take, and partly to unburden her mind to her pet
+clergyman. Of course she must speak to Alymer that very evening. How
+fortunate that it was one of the nights he almost always came to
+Sevenoaks.
+
+If only he had lived at home it would never have happened. It was all
+that hateful little flat where he lived with Bruce and St. Quintin. She
+ought never to have given way so easily. If his father had docked his
+allowance, in order to compel him to live at home, he would soon have
+got used to the daily train journey, and it would have been far better
+for him.
+
+Now, of course, he was not likely to hear of it; and since he was
+making such good headway in his profession, it certainly did seem a
+pity to risk upsetting him. But no doubt a little quiet talk would
+convince him of the unwisdom of allowing his name to be associated with
+an actress just now; and once more she congratulated herself that she
+had heard in time.
+
+The Rev. Hetherington listened to her story with all the sympathetic
+horror she could wish, and she felt buoyed up in her adamantine
+decision, although she still harped on the intention of praying for
+guidance.
+
+The Rev. Hetherington, of morbid and woeful countenance, was one who
+looked across a world glorious with spring sunshine, as if he saw
+nothing but the earwigs, and black-beetles, and creepy, crawly things
+of existence, and he promised readily to pray also: and perhaps God
+smiled the smile He keeps for the good people who so often ask to be
+guided by His Will, when they have long before decided exactly what
+that Will shall be.
+
+The pastor accompanied his parishioner to her door, walking slowly with
+her through a garden bursting into a joyous splendour of crocuses, and
+snowdrops, and promise of laughing daffodils in warm corners; and
+together they lamented the terrible temptations of wicked sirens that
+beset the paths of splendid young men in the world.
+
+“Not that he isn’t a good, affectionate son,” she finished, “but he has
+always been made so much of—which is not in the least surprising, and
+no doubt he has grown lax. Still, he might have remembered how proud a
+name he bore, and, at least, have drawn the line at a frivolous,
+painted actress. His father says she is very clever and quite well
+known, but even he cannot deny she probably paints her face; and surely
+that is enough to show what her mind is! How Alymer could endure it, I
+don’t know. He has been used to such perfect ladies all his life, and
+the mere sight of paint should disgust him.”
+
+“Of course, of course,” murmured the mournful parson, who had great
+hopes of a big subscription for his Young Women’s Bible Class, and was
+in two minds as to whether to regard the present moment as auspicious,
+and introduce the need of educating all young women in high and holy
+thoughts; or whether it was wiser to wait until his companion were in a
+less perturbed frame of mind.
+
+And the crocuses nodded and laughed, holding up their little yellow
+staves gaily to the sunshine, and shouting to each other that it was
+spring, clamouring to make the most of their great day, before the
+flowers came in battalions to crowd them out of sight and mind.
+
+And the gentle little snowdrops whispered secrets to each other, which
+only themselves could hear, about warmth and sunshine and the beauty of
+the new spring world—too old in the wisdom of nature to pay any heed to
+the two humans who would rather have had a world all maxims and rules,
+and rigid straight lines from which no gladsome young hearts ever
+strayed.
+
+Finally the mournful clergyman went away without asking for his
+subscription, having made mental decision that there would be far more
+trouble to come over the painted woman, and yet more propitious
+occasion was likely to arise.
+
+And Alymer’s mother went into the house with set, severe lips; and
+pulled down all the blinds that were letting in sunlight, for fear some
+of the carpets got spoiled.
+
+She did not, however, venture into the library, where her husband sat
+in a large bow window reading, with sunlight flooding all round him,
+and sunshine in his quiet eyes, and the sunshine of a great man’s
+thoughts filling his mind.
+
+He was too much of a philosopher to worry about his son, and, moreover
+he knew Alymer well, and had great faith in his good sense; but he
+realised a mother would take fright more quickly, and that it was as
+well to let her have her talk with the boy, and comfort herself with
+the belief that she had saved him. As long as she did not shut out his
+library sunlight, nor bring her pet clergyman into his sanctum, he
+found it easy to balance her sterling companionable qualities against
+certain others of a trying nature, and go serenely on his philosophical
+way.
+
+Undoubtedly Alymer was a well-selected mixture of both parents. To his
+mother he owed his fine features and his power of resolve when he chose
+to exert it; and to his father his splendid stature, his quiet little
+humours, and the old-fashioned, courtly protectiveness that had so
+quickly won Lorraine’s heart.
+
+Yet it was a mixture that might have borne no practical results if left
+to itself, but rather a retarding.
+
+As Lorraine had so clearly seen, the spur of ambition, and a resolute
+determination to succeed in other walks than that of the casual,
+charming, petted favourite of fortune, were indispensable to bring his
+traits into a harmony with each other that would achieve.
+
+It was to this end that she had given him of her best encouragement and
+help; too old and too wise not to have seen that whatever her own
+personal feelings towards him, it was extremely probable that she had
+helped him towards realising his highest promise, for some one else to
+reap the deepest joy of it.
+
+Well, at any rate she had had the interest and the companionship, and
+these had not been small things. He had come into her life just when it
+was wearying of triumph and adulation; when lovely frocks and jewels,
+and hosts of admirers—the very things she had craved for a few years
+earlier—had commenced to pall in the light of the little real
+satisfaction to be won from them. With some women perhaps they never
+palled. Perhaps each fresh conquest renewed them, and each fresh
+triumph invigorated.
+
+In Lorraine’s complex character, the love of success was blended with a
+love of the deeper and richer things of life. She was of those to whom,
+at times, wide spaces, and fresh breezes, and the big, sweeping,
+elemental things call loudly, above the noise of the world of fashion;
+and she knew what it was to be filled with an aching nausea of all she
+had practically sold her soul to win, and a yearning _nostalgia_ for
+something that might satisfy the finer instincts of her nature.
+
+And in a measure her interest in Hermon had filled the void. Whatever
+her feeling had been in the beginning, it had undoubtedly merged now
+into a definite purpose for his good, from which she meant to
+eliminate—if the time came when he wanted to be free of her—any claim
+her heart might clamour to assert.
+
+Her dealings with him were, for the time being, on a par with the
+generous unselfishness she had shown towards her mother. For both of
+them she found the courage and resolution to thrust herself in the
+background and give of her best as the hour required.
+
+If the friendship had been permitted to develop quietly along these
+lines, a future day might have witnessed Lorraine quite naturally
+outgrowing her infatuation, and happily satisfied with the result of
+her unwearying interest and effort; while Hermon, from his proud
+pinnacle of success, would still have felt her his best friend.
+
+But at the critical moment the blundering, disturbing hand was
+permitted to jar the harmony of the strings and spoil the melody. To
+what end?… who knows?… Perhaps to some unseen, mysterious widening, and
+deepening, and learning necessary to the onward march of Humanity
+towards its goal of Perfection.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+Alymer knew directly he entered the house, and saw his mother, that
+something had upset her, but he did not associate it with Lorraine, and
+kissed her with his usual warm affection.
+
+It was not until after dinner, when they were alone in the
+drawing-room, that the subject was broached, and then, with very little
+preliminary, Mrs. Hermon—bending Divine Guidance to her own will—made a
+merciless attack on “the painted woman.”
+
+It was no doubt the most unwise course of action conceivable; but Mrs.
+Hermon, with her quiet and philosophical husband, and her only son, had
+led a sheltered, smoothly flowing married life, after a yet more
+sheltered girlhood, far removed from the passionate upheavals of
+society, and she had neither practical worldly knowledge nor experience
+to aid her.
+
+She told him the story that had reached her ears through the jealousy
+of a sister, whose only son was very plain, and a scapegrace, and who
+had been fiendishly glad to have an opportunity to cast a slur upon the
+doings of the successful, handsome, steady young barrister.
+
+“Douglas says he is always with her,” had been her sister’s
+conclusion—“and that every one is talking about it, and there is a
+dreadful lot of scandal. I thought it was only kind to tell you, as if
+he goes on in the same way he will certainly ruin his career.”
+
+Then had come the parting shot.
+
+“We all think so much of Alymer, that I would not believe such a story
+of him without proof. Douglas said he usualy went to her flat in
+Chelsea about five, when he leaves Chambers, and I went twice to see if
+he came; and on each occasion he strode along, and swung into the
+building almost as if he lived there.”
+
+Mrs. Hermon did not at first tell her son the source of her
+information, and he did not ask her. Neither, somewhat to her surprise,
+did he attempt to exculpate himself, nor to make any denial.
+
+He stood up on the hearth with that straight, strong look he had, when
+all his faculties were acute, and heard her through to the end. Then
+she said in a hurt voice: “You don’t deny it, Alymer. I have been
+hoping you went to the flat on business, and there was some mistake.”
+
+“I deny everything that you have implied against Miss Vivian. The story
+of the friendship is true.”
+
+His quiet self-possession seemed to disconcert her a little. She was
+prepared for indignant denial, or angry remonstrance even; but this
+calm self-possession was something almost new to her. True, he had
+always been calm and philosophical, like his father; but this was
+something deeper and stronger than she had yet known in him.
+
+“The fact is, mother,” he went on after a pause, “you have run away
+with a totally wrong idea of Miss Vivian. If she were the sort of
+actress you picture, you might perhaps be anxious; but all the same I
+think you might have given me credit for rather better taste.”
+
+“My dear, an actress is an actress—and everyone knows what that is; and
+the mere fact of her calling, or whatever you like to name it, is
+sufficient to seriously hurt your position.”
+
+He smiled a little.
+
+“I dispute the dictum that everyone knows whant an actress is, in the
+sweeping sense you mean. I do not think you know, for one. I shall have
+to try and persuade Miss Vivian to come and see you.”
+
+“Indeed I hope you will do no such thing.”
+
+Again he smiled.
+
+“In any case I should not succeed. She is very proud, and would resent
+patronage even more than you.”
+
+Mrs. Hermon gave a significant sniff of incredulity, but she only said:
+
+“Well, Alymer dear, you will give me a promise not to see her any
+more—won’t you?”
+
+“I can’t do that, mother.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“It is out of the question. For one thing, I owe too much to Miss
+Vivian; and for another, I am too fond of her.”
+
+“All the more reason you should try to break off the friendship at
+once, before she has succeeded in any of her schemes to entangle you.”
+
+“She has no schemes to entangle me, as you put it. She has been a
+splendid friend. I owe my first brief to her, and a good deal else
+beside.”
+
+“Well, and no doubt you have already given her a good deal in return.
+Quite as much as she deserves. There is no necessity for you to ruin
+your whole career, just because she happens to like being seen out with
+you.”
+
+There was a silence, in which Alymer seemed to be cogitating how best
+to disarm his mother’s fears; and also to be reminding himself of her
+natural ignorance on theatrical matters, and his own need to be patient
+therefore. At last he said quietly:
+
+“Miss Vivian only wants to help me in my profession; and I can only
+tell you again she has been a splendid friend to me. Aunt Edith has
+told you a great deal of nonsense. She has always been glad to pick
+holes in me if she could. Most of it is lies, and you must take my word
+for it. It is useless to discuss the matter. I am sorry you have been
+so worried, but I don’t know how to make you understand.”
+
+“I understand far better than you think; and I know you ought to end
+the friendship at once. I want you to do so.”
+
+“It is out of the question. But you need not worry. You must just
+forget. No...” as she attempted further remonstrance; “don’t go on. I
+cannot listen to any more against Miss Vivian. I think I will go and
+smoke a pipe with the pater. Shall you come and sit with us?” And a
+certain expression in his eyes that reminded her of his father in his
+most decisive moods told her he meant to say no more. She rose at once.
+
+She had failed, and she knew it, but she had not the smallest intention
+of giving in. She had started on the wrong tack, that was all. Of
+course the boy was too chivalrous to go back on a friend, particularly
+as he believed he was under some obligation to her. Her plan of
+mercilessly tearing the lady to pieces had not been a good one, but she
+would think of something else, and save him in spite of himself.
+
+And comforting herself with this reflection, she allowed the subject to
+drop, and went with him to the library. Her next plan should be a more
+sure one. She would work in secret with an agent to help her, who could
+see the enormity of the danger, and appreciate more thoroughly than his
+father the urgent need to interfere. She had already a vague plan in
+her head that she believed an excellent one, and which she could put
+into execution immediately.
+
+It was an old-fashioned, time-worn plan, but Mrs. Hermon was a woman of
+old-fashioned ideas, and she did not know but that she was the
+originator. She had not the least idea that quite the commonplace
+course of action in these questions was to send a secret emissary to
+the lady, to reason with her, or plead with her, or bribe her,
+according to her status, on behalf of the innocent young victim of her
+charms. The great thing, she imagined, was to find a suitable agent.
+
+Now, besides the sister who was jealous, she had a bachelor brother of
+a certain well-known stamp. A good-looking, aristocratic,
+well-preserved man of independent means; and though over sixty years of
+age, still a gallant, with not much in his handsome head beyond a
+pathetic desire to continue to captivate, and a belief that he was as
+invincible as ever.
+
+Very shady stories had more than once been written down to his account,
+but he had the wit always to rise above them and sail serenely on to do
+more mischief.
+
+His sister rightly surmised that he would have considerable knowledge
+concerning actressess and the theatrical world, and without troubling
+to consult her husband, she took him into her confidence and unburdened
+all her trouble.
+
+“Phew!” murmured the elderly beau, “so the young scamp has got
+entangled with an actress, has he? Shocking!… shocking!… But don’t
+worry, Ailsa; we’ll soon square the lady one way or another. Do
+you—er—happen to know if she is of the nature one can offer money to?”
+
+“I think not. Alymer insists she is a lady in the real sense; though,
+if so, why did she go on the stage?”
+
+“Love of excitement, I dare say. Is she, by any chance, a chorus girl?”
+
+“No, not exactly; though really I fail to see any difference in degree
+between one actress and another. They are all on the stage; and no
+doubt they all paint their faces and snare good-looking young men.”
+
+“No doubt,” agreed the man, who had more than once made it his business
+to snare an unsuspecting, trusting girl.
+
+“And you will go to see her, and persuade her to drop him; won’t you,
+Percy? It is no use talking to his father; he does not see the matter
+in a serious enough light. He believes Alymer will soon tire of her. So
+he may, but in the meantime she may irredeemably injure his career. Of
+course, if it is a question of money we will find it all right; but
+whatever it is, try to cut the whole matter off entirely. Make love to
+her yourself, Percy, if that is what she wants—you know you have always
+been rather good at that sort of thing”; and she smiled at her own
+astonishing wordly wisdom, feeling almost rakish at having framed such
+a sentence.
+
+“Ah!” with a deprecatory shake of his head, that did not, however, hide
+a certain fitful gleam in his eyes, “I am getting too old for those
+kinds of pranks now, but I will do my best to—er—” For a moment he
+wondered whether he meant to do his best to make love to the actress
+himself, or try to rescue Alymer, and finally finished: “follow out
+your wishes and suggestions.”
+
+“I knew you would, Percy. It was a good idea of mine to ask you. Don’t
+mince matters at all, will you? Make her thoroughly understand she has
+got to give him up under any circumstances, or we shall, well—er—take
+proceedings if it is possible. Anyhow, Alymer must be guarded against
+himself, and his father is too unpractical to help, so we must do it
+alone.”
+
+“I quite agree. Alymer is an exceptionally fine fellow, with an
+exceptionally promising future; and if he cannot see for himself how
+foolish a scandal would be just at the outset, we must, as you say,
+save him on our own account. I am fond of Alymer, very fond, and very
+proud, and I will do all in my power over the matter. What is the
+actress’s name, did you say?”
+
+“I don’t think I mentioned it; but Edith told me in her letter. I will
+look for it.”
+
+She went to a writing-table, and returned with the epistle in her hand,
+glancing through it until she came to the required information, when,
+without looking up, she read, “Lorraine Vivian.”
+
+At the same time a sudden, curious, startled expression crossed the
+faded eyes of the white-haired gallant, and he turned quickly aside,
+stroking his moustache with a slightly nervous air.
+
+“Eh? Do you mean the well-known celebrity?” he asked. “Surely not Miss
+Vivian of the Queen’s Theatre?”
+
+“I suppose so. I never go to the theatre, so I never hear these names.
+Edith certainly writes as if she were well known. Does it makes any
+difference?” she asked, as he was silent. “Don’t you want to go? If you
+don’t I must find some one else; that is all.”
+
+“But certainly I will go. I was only a little surprised. She must be a
+good deal older than Alymer.”
+
+“That only makes it worse. No doubt she is no longer pretty enough for
+older men, so she has to set her cap at young ones, who are flattered
+by her attention. I certainly thought Alymer had more sense—but
+there—one never knows, and these women are very clever, I believe.”
+
+“D—d—I mean—extraordinarily clever; but we can be clever too, and I
+dare say we can contrive to outwit her.”
+
+A little later he went away to catch a train back to town, leaving his
+sister reassured and hopeful; but as he went he repeated to himself in
+a low, incredulous voice: “Lorraine Vivian… Lorraine Vivian… How
+strange that I should be asked to undertake a mission that will cause
+us to meet again. I wonder if you will recognise me quickly? I flatter
+myself, even white hair has not destroyed my claims to a woman’s
+favour.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+Lorraine had not the smallest idea of what was coming upon her. She
+knew perfectly well herself that it would be most unwise for a rising
+young barrister to get talked about with an actress known to have a
+husband living, and it had made her a great deal more cautious than she
+would otherwise have bothered to be.
+
+Moreover, Alymer, seeing nothing to gain by making known his mother’s
+fears, preferred not to annoy her with any account of them. To say that
+he was wholly unaffected by it, however, would be to say too much. He
+was, indeed, exceedingly and bitterly annoyed with his interfering
+aunt, who had obviously tried to make trouble for some petty motive of
+jealousy. He only hoped that his mother would take her line from him
+and his father, and maintain a dignified front, unmoved by his aunt’s
+tale-bearing gossip.
+
+He was slightly affected in another way also. It was almost the first
+time he had seriously considered what the world might say if their
+great friendship was known. He knew it well enough to believe it would
+be in haste to put the worst construction on it, though their own
+immediate friends might stand by them loyally.
+
+It caused him to consider that construction in a light he had hitherto
+been protected from by circumstances, for it thrust forward an aspect
+they had successfully kept in the background. It made him ask the
+question, What was he prepared to do if his aunt continued her
+persecution, and some sort of change had to be made in the friendly,
+delightful intercourse?
+
+He wondered a good deal what Lorraine’s own attitude would be. Would
+she, perhaps, now that she had given him his start, cut all the
+friendship off for his good, and return to her old friends and
+admirers? He shrank from the contemplation of such a solution
+undisguisedly, and meant to continue their pleasant relations if
+possible.
+
+He certainly wished no change whatever, if it could be avoided.
+Lorraine meant everything to him just then, and he could not but know
+how much his companionship and affection had come to mean to her.
+
+So the next day he paid his customary visit, and talked as usual of
+many things, but said no word of what had passed the previous night.
+
+Lorraine’s room was full of violets and snowdrops, cushions of them on
+every side, in lovely array. He moved about looking at them, and she
+watched him from a low chair by the fire, clad in some new spring gown
+of an exquisite mauve shade, that seemed to tone with the
+violet-bedecked room.
+
+It gave her dark eyes something of a violet tint, and her hands looked
+as white and delicate as the snowdrops. Moving about from mass of
+blossoms, Alymer, glancing at her, thought she looked younger and
+lovelier than ever.
+
+“You have a spring air about you,” he said, “and all the room seems
+full of spring. There is something about it all I like better than the
+lilies and roses and malmaisons usually making a display.”
+
+“I sent them all to the dining-room,” she told him. “Every spring is
+such a beautiful new thing, it has to be allowed to reign supreme for a
+little while in here. It gives me rather an ache to see them, all the
+same”—after a pause—“they make me dream of the smell of the new
+woodland, that delicious, damp, earthy smell of spring, and all the
+young, joyful bursting of buds and springing of seeds and the mating
+birds, and the showers that make the leaves glisten. I feel as if I
+should like to tramp out across the country in such a shower, and get
+healthily wet, and be a real bit of the spring for just one week.”
+
+“Why don’t you go? You are not looking very well, and the country air
+would probably do you no end of good.”
+
+“I don’t want to go alone, and I do not know who I could take. Hal is
+not able to leave, and mother would merely be bored to tears, and Flip
+Denton is at Monte Carlo. There is no one really but you and Hal and
+Flip who would fit in with my spring mood. Any one else would strike a
+discordant note.”
+
+“I wish I could come.”
+
+The wish escaped him almost involuntarily, as, with the sight of the
+spring flowers and the spring scent in his nostrils, he too felt the
+call of the fresh, wild, vigorous things in his blood.
+
+Lorraine looked at him with a curious expression on her face. Why, she
+wondered, did he not seriously contemplate coming? Why did he so
+steadily pursue, as far as she was concerned, his serene and
+passionless path? She believed he cared more for her than for any one
+else; and, if so, was it possible the ache sometimes in her heart for a
+closer bond and resolutely strangled, had no counterpart in his hot,
+vigorous youth?
+
+Then he looked suddenly into her eyes, as if to see whether she had
+heard his wish, and what she thought of it. And as their gaze met, she
+saw the blood mantle to his face, and a half-shamed expression creep
+into it, as if he had been discovered in a thought that should never
+have been permitted.
+
+He looked away again to the flowers, and Lorraine turned her eyes to
+the fire, with a swift wonder in her mind. She felt that something had
+transpired since they last parted—something she did not know of, and
+that was entirely different to anything that had crossed their path
+before. Some new thought had been put into his mind. Something that
+made him give her that half-shy, half-wondering look.
+
+She gazed hard at the fire, and her pulses began to beat a little
+fitfully. She knew instinctively that something had come suddenly into
+being between them, which neither might name, and which was the oldest
+thing in the world.
+
+And then across her mind, as once before, swept with swift pitilessness
+a vision of what might have been; of what life might have held for her
+had she been among the blessed—an aching, tearing longing for a
+youthful hour she had irretrievably missed. She drew her hand across
+her eyes, ignoring his presence, shutting him out, seeing only the
+heavenly joy she had missed.
+
+Supposing such a moment had come to her with such a man, when she, like
+him, was in the first flush of youth and beauty; of dreams and hopes,
+and rich believing. What a knight for a lovely maid! What a lover to
+dream of bashfully and fearfully; and with all her soul one thought of
+him.
+
+From her vantage ground of much doing and much knowing, she looked back
+yearningly to the bloom and springtide of life, when all splendid
+things are possible, and any day may bring the splendid knight.
+
+And instead had come... ah, what?
+
+Well! For her it had been the wolf in sheep’s clothing, who, beside all
+he had robbed her of, had taken all her chance of the one great
+awakening to blinding joy. Now she could only look upon the joy from
+afar, seeing a barrier of fateful years, and, like a drawn sword at the
+gate of her dream, the stern, unyielding decree that has echoed
+unchanged down the long centuries: “Thou shalt not—”
+
+Alymer was silent too, standing with the thoughtful expression on his
+face that was so attractive, probing a little nervously into that wish
+he had expressed, and wondering a little uncertainly just what it
+meant.
+
+Then Lorraine got up.
+
+“You are grave, _mon ami_; and it is the springtime. Grave thoughts are
+for the autumn of life—recklessness better becomes the joyful spring.”
+
+“Are you ever reckless nowadays?” he asked, watching her graceful
+movements as she bent down and buried her face in a cushion of violets.
+
+“I am when I smell violets. They may be modest and retiring little
+flowers, but they hold spring rapture and spring lavishness and spring
+desiring in their scent all the same.”
+
+“Then you are reckless now?”
+
+What was it made him dally thus upon dangerous ground? What was it made
+him speak to Lorraine as he had never spoken before, on the very day
+after his mother’s admonition? Why did his immense height and strength
+and the young vigour in his blood suddenly blot out the years that lay
+between them, and sweep into his soul, the knowledge of his masculinity
+and might, which of its own nature possessively dominated her
+femininity?
+
+They seemed all at once to have strayed into an atmosphere, born of
+that warning admonition, and of their talk, of the reckless, creative
+spring; and because, in spite of his youth, he was very much a man, and
+she was a dangerously attractive woman, his pulses leapt fitfully and
+eagerly with the swift ache that has existed ever since God made man
+and woman.
+
+Without looking up, Lorraine felt this. The very air about them seemed
+charged with it, and she too, under some spell of springtime, moved
+into closer proximity to the splendid knight. She brushed against his
+arm unconsciously; and looking down on the top of her dark head, he
+said half-shyly:
+
+“You somehow seem such a little thing today, Lorraine, I feel as if I
+could pick you up, as one does a small child.”
+
+“Please don’t,” with a low laugh—“just think of my dignity.”
+
+“But you are not dignified today. You seem as young and light-hearted
+as the springtime. I feel as if I must be years older than you.”
+
+She raised her face suddenly, with yearning eyes:
+
+“Oh, let us emulate the spring this once—let us both be young and
+foolish and real, and pretend there isn’t any one else in the world.”
+
+For one second he looked at her with wondering incredulity, then, with
+a tender little laugh he suddenly bent down and folded his arms round
+her till she seemed to vanish altogether into his embrace, and kissed
+her on the lips.
+
+“The scent of violets has intoxicated us,” he said, and kissed her
+again.
+
+Then he gently pushed her into her big, deep chair.
+
+“I’m going now. I only ran in to see how you were after that bad
+headache. You must bring the lilies and malmaisons back tomorrow, or I
+shall be offending so grievously you will forbid me the flat.
+Good-bye!” And without another word he went away out of the room.
+
+Lorraine sat quite still, and let the spell wrap her round for the
+precious moments that she could yet hold it. Of course it could not
+stay. In an hour at most she would be her old, brain-weary self again,
+with the best of her youth behind her; while he was still there on the
+threshold, young and strong and free. But even this one short hour was
+good. Life had not given her many such. She would fence it round with
+silence, and solitude, and the scent of violets.
+
+Alymer went out into the streets wondering at himself vaguely, and yet
+with a pleasant glow of memory. He felt it bewildering that Lorraine
+Vivian, whose favours were so eagerly sought by men, should have
+allowed him to kiss her.
+
+It seemed something apart altogether from her generous friendship and
+helpful influence. It made him pleased with himself, and filled his
+mind with a yet greater tenderness to her. He knew so much now of her
+early difficulties and following troubles—of the frivolous,
+unprincipled mother, and the long, uphill fight. She had honoured him
+with her confidence in spite of his youth, and now—
+
+He quickened his steps, and his pulses leapt yet more fitfully. Spring
+was in the air and in his blood, and one of the recognised beauties of
+London had been gracious to him beyond all dreaming.
+
+It was enough for the present hour. Why ask any inconvenient questions
+and spoil it all? Let the future look after itself.
+
+Only one thought for a moment cast a little shadow upon his ardour. It
+crossed his mind, for no accountable reason, to wonder what Hal would
+think. He was a little afraid she would strongly disapprove.
+
+But, after all, if she did, what matter? He owed nothing to Hal, and
+there was no reason why her views should disturb him in the least. Of
+course it did not… and yet… Hal’s good opinion was a thing worth
+having; and, in short, he hoped she would not know.
+
+It was not that she was straight-laced. She was too near the heart of
+humanity through her daily toil to be other than a generous judge; but
+she was also a creature of ideals for herself and for those who would
+be among her best friends; and she would have known unerringly that no
+great, consuming love had drowned his reason and filled his senses.
+
+It was for that she would have judged him; and for that he would have
+stood before her direct gaze ashamed. One might be gay and
+irresponsible and merry, but there were just one or two things which
+must not be allowed in that category. Instinctively, he knew that in
+Hal’s view he would have transgressed—not because he felt too much, but
+because he felt too little to be justified.
+
+But why need she know? Why need any one know? He did not think his
+mother would follow up any further the story she had been told, and he
+would see his aunt about it personally. It was better to have it out
+with her, lest she took upon herself to interview Lorraine, and make
+more trouble still.
+
+He ran up the stairs to the flat, two steps at a time; and scrambled to
+get changed for the dinner to which he was going, still feeling a
+pulsing thrill that, among all men, he was Lorraine Vivian’s chosen
+friend.
+
+In another flat—a bachelor one in Ryder Street—an elderly beau,
+likewise dressed for a dinner-party, though with the utmost care and
+precision, instead of a scramble. And to himself he said, as he took a
+long, last look at the image he loved:
+
+“I must go tomorrow morning and settle this little matter about Alymer.
+No doubt Lorraine will be amazed to see how well-preserved I am. She
+cannot have any real feeling for such a boy, and, after all, a
+good-looking man of the world—”
+
+He smiled to himself as over a thought that pleased him, and rang for
+his servant to go out and hail a taxi.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+It was not difficult for Alymer to persuade himself that a little
+diplomacy on his part would probably assuage his aunt’s wish to upset
+his friendship, and incidentally allay his mother’s fears; but, as it
+happened no one having his welfare so exceedingly at heart over this
+matter with the actress was in any degree as amenable or as quietly
+pacified as he imagined.
+
+Another interview took place between his mother and his aunt, in which
+the latter advised writing to Miss Vivian direct to tell her what his
+father and mother thought of the friendship, and that an uncle of his
+would call upon her at once.
+
+To say that the letter was an insult is to put it mildly, though at the
+same time it was not so much through intention as ignorance.
+
+Lorraine read it with silent amazement, and thought the writer must be
+mad. It seemed quite incredible that any lady in the twentieth century
+should apparently be so ignorant concerning the status of a celebrated
+actress. It was evidently taken for granted that she was an adventuress
+of the worst type.
+
+She was naturally somewhat angry and indignant, but decided it was not
+worth while to take any notice, and merely awaited with some curiosity
+the visit of the uncle who was to expostulate with her, and,
+practically, offer her terms.
+
+He came at about twelve o’clock, and he did not give his name, merely
+asking to see Miss Vivian on a matter of business.
+
+Lorraine dressed with special care, and looked her best when she
+quietly entered the drawing-room. She gave an order to her maid with
+the door half opened, in the most casual and imperturbed of voices,
+then she came slowly in, closed the door behind her, and advanced
+towards the figure standing on the hearth.
+
+When she had taken two steps she stood still suddenly, and in a voice
+that was rasping and harsh, exclaimed:
+
+“_You_!—” Alymer’s uncle squared his shoulders, stroked his white
+moustache with a gallant air, and replied:
+
+“Yes—er—Lorraine. We meet again, you see. I may say—er—I am very glad
+indeed that it is so,” and he advanced a step with outstretched hand.
+
+But Lorraine was rooted to the spot where she stood, and a sudden,
+sharp fierceness seemed to burn in her eyes.
+
+“Have—_you_—come—about—Alymer—Hermon?” she asked in slow, cutting
+tones, as if each word was hammered out of a seething whirlpool of
+suppressed emotions.
+
+“Alymer is my nephew, and his mother asked me to come and—er—talk to
+you about him. She is a good deal perturbed on his behalf—er—because—”
+
+“I do not want to know any more than I am able to gather from the
+extraordinary epistle I received from her this morning. What I should
+like to know is, did you agree to come here on this errand, knowing who
+I was?”
+
+The faded blue eyes of the carefully dressed old roué began to look
+uncomfortably from one object to another; anywhere, indeed, but into
+those scorching orbs, with their suppressed fires.
+
+Then he took his courage in his hands, and tried again.
+
+“My dear Lorraine, you seem to be taking rather a theatrical view of a
+very commonplace matter. Of course it is bad for the boy to get mixed
+up in a scandal, just at the beginning of his career, or, for the
+matter of that, talked about with a celebrated actress whose husband is
+known to be living somewhere. I have come to you as a man of the world,
+to ask you as a woman of the world to be generous in the matter, and
+help me to set the minds of his parents at rest at once—”
+
+“Ah! It was as a man of the world you came to me before; but then
+I—I”—she gave a low, unpleasant laugh—“I wasn’t a woman of the world,
+you see, until you had taught me, and left me.”
+
+He did not quite know what the laugh meant, but now his old eyes were
+roaming over the beauty that was yet hers, and memory was stirring, and
+something made him reckless.
+
+“Don’t speak of it like that,” he pleaded drawing a little nearer. “I
+know I didn’t perhaps treat you quite well; but if there are any amends
+I can make now?—If you will let us be friends again?—”
+
+“Amends—amends. What do I want with amends from such as you?” And her
+eyes flashed dangerously. He retreated quickly, with a hurt, rather
+cowed expression.
+
+“Well, Fate has thrown us together again and I am still a bachelor—and
+I have money—”
+
+“Do please try not to insult me any further.”
+
+Lorraine had grown calmer, though the dangerous look was still in her
+eyes, and she moved away to the window, leaving a large space between
+them, and half-turned her back to him.
+
+“I have already burnt the epistle I received from Mrs. Hermon—its
+insults were too utterly foolish to notice. You may go back and tell
+her her son has never received any harm from me, and I absolutely
+decline to discuss the question any further. As for yourself—you will
+doubtless find a taxi on the rank, just outside.”
+
+“But, my dear lady, I cannot go back leaving the matter like that.”
+
+He grew emboldened again, now that he could not see her eyes.
+
+“I am here to plead on Alymer’s behalf. If you are fond of him, you
+must at least listen to reason for his sake.”
+
+“Not from you. And who are his people that they dare to treat me like
+this? . . . First an insulting letter, and then an emissary such as
+you—”
+
+“Alymer is my nephew, and his mother is my sister, and therefore I am a
+most suitable emissary, except for a certain incident of long ago,
+which has long been consigned to oblivion by both of us, I am sure. The
+boy is young. He is on the threshold of life and a great career. What
+will be the result, do you think, if you refuse to listen, and perhaps
+ruin his prospects for your own pleasure?”
+
+She turned back to him a moment, and the smouldering fires leaped up.
+
+“I was young. I was on the threshold of life. What did you care for my
+youth or my future? What do other men like you care? My mother was lax,
+and you knew it. I believe you gave her diamonds. And now you come to
+me and ask me to spare your nephew—_you_ come—_you_!...” and the scorn
+in her voice lashed him like a stinging whip.
+
+But he tried valiantly to stand his ground, though all his fine attire
+and air of bravado could not save his visible shrinking into a faded,
+dissipated, worthless-looking old rogue.
+
+“If you won’t listen to any plea from me, will you permit me to make
+one from his mother, and appeal to the woman in you to realise her
+anxiety?” Lorraine turned again to the window and looked out upon the
+silver, shining river. And suddenly it was as though all her soul rose
+up in arms. She felt with swift passion that it seemed to matter so
+much in the world that a young man with a promising future should not
+run any risk of harm from an older woman.
+
+But if it was a young woman, and an older man, what did it matter then!
+Why, the very man who would have hurt her could allow himself to plead
+for another young thing, if that other were a man.
+
+Doubtless he would argue, as all the rest of them, that years in men
+craved the freshness and revivifying of youth it was only natural, and
+a woman mattered so much less. But the mature woman herself, she has no
+right to indulge in any longing for that same freshness and
+revivifying.
+
+Ten years ago this man had been just at the age, and with just the
+handsome, aristocratic appearance, in spite of iron-grey hair, that so
+often attracts a girl in the early twenties. She scorns boys at that
+age, and feels the compliment of being chosen by a man of the world
+before the many older women she cannot choose but see would gladly be
+in her place. That it is her youth and not herself that holds the
+attraction is unknown to her, and a clever man may often dupe her young
+affections.
+
+Lorraine, with her romantic, imaginative temperament, had grown to
+believe herself in love with him, and then had followed the old, sordid
+story of insult and her consequent disillusionment. The memories stung
+her now with a bitter stinging heightened by the feeling that life
+cared so much more for Alymer’s welfare than it had ever done for hers.
+
+And then that appeal to her woman’s feeling to sympathise with the
+perturbed mother.
+
+Well, because she was his mother, surely she was blessed enough. What
+had she—Lorraines—to place against that great fact? She felt painfully
+that in spite of her success her life was pitifully, hopelessly barren,
+scarred this way and that, torn and rent and damaged by mistake upon
+mistake which could never now be rectified.
+
+A nausea of it all made her feel in those tense moments, gazing at the
+serenely flowing river, that had she a child she would be borne away on
+the smooth silver water with her little one, out of the fret and
+turmoil, to some quiet nest in the cliffs at its mouth; and there for
+the years that were left her she would fill her days with the peaceful,
+homely joys that had never yet been hers.
+
+But how could she go alone? Only in the uneventful days to find her
+loneness intensified a thousand times, and without escape.
+
+No; the river would flow on to that serene haven; but never for ever
+would she and a little one of her own be borne on its motherly bosom to
+the country of little things and peacefulness.
+
+And the thought only stung her afresh; driving the sting in deep and
+sharp while this man remained under her roof.
+
+“Well,” he said at last; and in the interval his voice seemed to have
+regained some of its polished, self-possessed satisfaction. “I see you
+are deep in thought. You were always tender-hearted, and I felt I
+should not appeal to your womans heart in vain.”
+
+Her face was turned away, so that he could not see her expression, nor
+read what was in her eyes, and purposely she let him go on.
+
+“You will, I know, let me go back with the message Mrs. Hermon is
+waiting for so anxiously. It will be quite simple. No doubt you have
+countless admirers, and if you summon another, and let Alymer think he
+is replaced, after the first hot-headed wrath he will quickly become
+normal again, and apply all his faculties to his profession. I know you
+are too clever not to appreciate just everything involved, and too
+generous not to give the young man his best chance.”
+
+Then he cleared his throat, stroked his moustache, and waited,
+wondering a little why she did not speak. He squared his shoulders
+again, and glanced round to catch a reflection of himself in the
+overmantel, then once more stroked his moustache with a sleek air of
+growing satisfaction.
+
+It had certainly been a most ticklish undertaking, and but for his
+diplomacy, he believed one foredoomed to failure. But of course
+Lorraine was a woman of the world, with a larger mixture of the other
+kind of womanliness, perhaps, than was usual, and he in his
+perspicacity had deftly appealed to both.
+
+Then Lorraine turned round, and at the first glimpse of her face his
+own fell, and suddenly he seemed to be shrinking visibly; as if he
+would not ungladly have vanished through the floor.
+
+She took a step or two forward, and stood in front of him with her head
+held high, and those same scorching fires in her eyes; and there was
+something almost over-awing in the taut intensity of her whole
+attitude, mental and physical.
+
+“No,” she said, in a cold, firm voice. “You may not go back and tell
+Alymer’s mother that I agree to cease my friendship with him for you
+and for her. You may go back and tell her that because when I was young
+you had no thought of my future, and no consideration for my youth, I
+refuse absolutely to parley in the matter at all. I shall not change my
+course of action by one iota. I shall not take any single thought for
+the future. The future may take care of itself. If you can estrange
+Alymer from me, that is your affair. Rather than estrange him myself, I
+will bind him closer. That is my answer to you, and to the _lady_,”
+with fine scorn, “who sat down yesterday and penned that unheard-of
+letter to a fellow-woman she knew nothing whatever against. Yet I think
+I could have charged that to her evident ignorance concerning
+theatrical matters, and forgiven her, if a monstrous irony had not sent
+you to plead her cause—”
+
+“My dear Lorraine,” he interposed, but she stopped him with an
+imperious gesture and continued:
+
+“There is nothing for you to say, nothing that I am in the least likely
+to listen to. You have evidently misunderstood my character from first
+to last. Probably you even credited me with wantonness in those far-off
+days when I was fool enough to believe all you swore to me of love and
+devotion. However that may be, you tried to set my feet in the wrong
+path, and when it suited you, gave me a push that further evil might
+conveniently widen the breach between us. Probably you have done much
+the same again since, and with as little compunction. What I have to
+say to you now is just this, once again. Your mission today is not
+merely useless; it has considerably aggravated any danger there may
+have been. Because of every girl a middle-aged man has treated as you
+sought to treat me I shall hold Alymer to his friendship if I can, and
+use any influence I may have to increase rather than decrease his
+visits.
+
+“It may be fiendish of me. I don’t know. I am no angel; not even the
+obliging soft-hearted fool you and Alymer’s mother seem to have
+concluded I might be. And what is more, if I had a vein of kindliness
+and unselfish consideration, you have done your utmost to stamp it out.
+
+“Most of us are half good, and half bad. Today, you have given the
+devil in me an impetus such as it has seldom had before. That is your
+affair. Go back and explain the real truth if you dare. Tell Mrs.
+Hermon you found the low adventuress a devil, and one that you yourself
+had tried to help to make. Tell her”—again with that low, unpleasant
+laugh—“that you fear the worst for Alymer.
+
+“That is all. Now you can go.”
+
+Once more he futilely tried to speak, but she only waved him aside, and
+walked with a haughty, scornful step ahead of him.
+
+“Jean,” she called to her maid, as she passed through the little hall,
+“Will you open the door for this gentleman?”
+
+In her own room, she slid down into a large cushioned chair and sobbed
+her heart out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+It was there Hal found her. By the merest chance she had run up to the
+flat at her midday hour, to ask a question about Sir Edwin Crathie, and
+a rumour concerning him that she felt an imperative need to have
+answered. When she saw Lorraine in tears the question was instantly
+banished for the moment.
+
+Had Lorraine been in her normal condition, she could hardly have failed
+to notice that the “Hal” who came up in haste to ask this urgent
+question was not the “Hal” of a few months, a few weeks ago. She would
+probably have observed that the vague, indefinable change Alymer had
+seen in her had grown more marked and more defined.
+
+She seemed to have sprung suddenly into womanhood.
+
+It was no light-hearted, careless, rather boisterous girl who appeared
+unexpectedly at the flat, to give her one or two eager hugs, tell her
+the latest news of her doings in gay, gossipy fashion, and eat an
+unconscionable amount of chocolates, usually kept for her special
+delectation.
+
+The old, bright look was there on the surface, the ready, laughing
+speech, but there was also, with it, something that approached a
+dignified phase, and suggested a new reserve. She was also distinctly
+better-looking likewise, in some vague, incomprehensible way.
+
+But Lorraine had not time to take any note of the change, for all her
+faculties were bent upon shielding herself.
+
+Of course it was useless to hide that she had been crying, but at least
+Hal must not know that the crying had been soul-racking sobs.
+
+With a look of consternation and dismay she, Hal, was across the room
+in a bound, kneeling beside the big chair.
+
+“My dear old girl, what in the world is the matter?”
+
+Lorraine contrived to smile with some appearance of reality, as she
+dried her eyes, and said:
+
+“I don’t quite know. It’s idiotic of me, isn’t it? If you hadn’t come
+and stopped me, I should never have been able to appear tonight for
+swollen eyes.” But Hal was not so easily put off. She grasped both
+Lorraine’s hands in hers and said resolutely:
+
+“Why are you crying, Lorry?”
+
+Feeling it hopeless to avoid some sort of a reason, she replied:
+
+“I had a letter this morning that upset me rather. It is silly of me to
+take any notice, and I shouldn’t if I were well. I’ve been wretchedly
+nervy lately, and it makes me silly about things.”
+
+“What was the letter about?”
+
+“Oh, only some one who is jealous, I suppose; trying to get a little
+satisfaction out of saying a few things that may hurt me. It is so
+silly of me to mind.”
+
+Hal’s mind immediately flew to Mrs. Vivian, and instead of inquiring
+any further she just said:
+
+“Poor old Lorry,” and kissed her affectionately.
+
+Then with a little laugh:
+
+“I suppose you weren’t going to have any lunch at all, but I’m
+frightfully hungry. I hope to goodness there is something in the
+house.”
+
+“Run and tell Jean to see cook about it, there’s a dear. I must bathe
+my eyes and try to look presentable.”
+
+While they lunched Hal chatted of many things, but she noted that
+Lorraine was looking thin, and seemed to have something on her mind,
+while she made no attempt to eat what was placed on her plate.
+
+When she was pulling her gloves on later she asked:
+
+“Why don’t you take a week’s holiday and go into the country, Lorry?…
+It is no use going on until you are ill, as you did before.”
+
+“I think I must ask about it. I feel as if one week would do me a world
+of good. How is Sir Edwin? Have you seen him lately?”
+
+“We played golf on Saturday.”
+
+A white look came suddenly into Hal’s face, and she riveted her
+attention on an apparently tiresome fastener as she asked, with the
+greatest show of unconcern she could muster, the question that brought
+her there.
+
+“Have you heard a rumour that he is going to marry Miss Bootes?” naming
+one of the richest heiresses of the day.
+
+“No; I hadn’t heard it.”
+
+Lorraine gave a quick glance at her face, but saw only the look of
+concentration on the fractious fastener.
+
+“Well,” Hal said in level tones, “I suppose she is worth about half a
+million, and I don’t think he is rich.”
+
+“Probably he has only been seen speaking to her, or taking her to
+supper at a big reception. That would be quite enough to make some
+people link them at once, and fix the date of the wedding.”
+
+“There’s a bun-fight at the Bruces’ tonight,” Hal ran on, “with Llaney
+to play the violin, and Lascelles to sing—quite an elaborate affair: so
+it is sure to be very boring; but I suppose Alymer will be there,
+looking adorably beautiful, and all the women gazing at him. It will be
+entertaining to chaff him, anyhow.”
+
+“Well, don’t tell him you found me weeping,” with a little laugh. “He
+might not realise it was only nerves.”
+
+“I’ll tell him he’s to take you away for a week’s holiday,” Hal replied
+lightly. “Goodness knows, you’ve done enough for him.”
+
+She went back to the office and settled down to her work with resolute
+determination, but any one who knew her well would have seen that some
+cloud seemed to have descended upon her, and that all the time she
+stuck to her work she was wrestling to appear normal, in the face of
+some enshrouding worry.
+
+Through all the letter she was writing, and over the proofs she read to
+aid the chief, there seemed to be one sentence dancing in letters of
+glee, like a war-dance executed by little black devils on the foolscap
+of her mind. It was last night she had heard it, that ominous piece of
+news that took her violently by surprise, in spite of her practical
+common sense. Some one had said it quite casually in the motor bus—one
+man to another, as an item of news of the day.
+
+“They say Sir Edwin Crathie is to marry Miss Bootes the heiress.”
+
+“What! The Right Honourable Sir Edwin Crathie?”
+
+“So they say. He’s very heavily in debt, I believe—over some bad
+speculations—and an heiress is about the only thing to float him.
+Besides, the party wants rich men, and it would be a good move on his
+part.”
+
+That was all, and then the two silk-hatted, frock-coated men had got
+out. Eminently well-to-do men—probably both stockbrokers, but men who
+looked as if they would know.
+
+Hal had gone on home in a sudden torment of feeling. Of course he was
+free to marry the heiress if be wished, but why, if so, had he dared
+once again to drop the mask of companiable friendliness with her and
+grow lover-like? The change had been coming slowly of late, wrought
+with infinite caution and care. He had not meant to frighten her again,
+and find himself in disgrace, so he had taken each step very leisurely,
+and made sure of his ground before trusting himself upon it. The next
+time he kissed her, he had determined she should like it too well to
+resent his action.
+
+And the safe moment, as he deemed it, had come the previous Saturday
+after a delightful afternoon at golf. They had motored down to the
+Sundridge Park Links, and stayed afterwards to dine at the club-house,
+then back to Bloomsbury, and into the pretty sitting-room, where Dudley
+was not likely to appear until late, because he had gone to a theatre
+with Doris.
+
+And then for the second time he had kissed her.
+
+But this was quite a different kiss. It was a climax to one of the best
+days he had ever had—a day in which, besides playing golf, they had
+talked of State secrets and State affairs. He had paid her the
+compliment of talking to her as if she were a man, and Hal, being
+exceptionally well informed on most questions of the day, was able to
+hold her own with him, and to make the conversation of genuine
+interest.
+
+And his quick, observant brain greatly admired her power of argument,
+and her woman’s directness of method, confirming the view that while a
+man usually indulges in a good deal of preamble, with many doubts and
+side-lights, a woman trusts to her instinct and arrives at the same
+conclusion in half the time. Of late, too, he had talked to her of
+interesting modern problems; and what had been frivolous in their
+earlier friendship had solidified into a real companionship.
+
+And now as he stood on the hearth with his back to the fire, looking
+with rather critical eyes round the pretty room that Hal had contrived
+to rob of nearly all its lodging-house aspect, she stood quite
+naturally and unconcernedly beside him drawing off her gloves.
+
+“It was a good game,” she was saying, “if you had not messed up that
+sixth hole. It’s a brute, isn’t it. I was lucky to escape that marshy
+bit.”
+
+“You are getting too good for me. Your drives out-classed mine nearly
+every time.”
+
+“But I can’t approach. I never, never, shall be able to hit a ball just
+far enough. If I loft on to the green at all it is always the far side,
+with a roll.”
+
+“You’ll soon master that. A little more practice, and you’ll be in form
+for matches. I think we’ll have to go away somewhere and have a
+fortnight’s golfing! Why not to some little French place? You would
+finish up a first-class player.”
+
+Hal laughed lightly.
+
+“Just imagine Brother Dudley’s face when I told him I was going to
+France for a fortnight with you!”
+
+“You wouldn’t have to tell him anything about me,” watching her with a
+sudden keenness in his eyes. “I should have to be personated by Miss
+Vivian or some one.”
+
+“Oh, I dare say Lorry would come for the matter of that. We might teach
+her to play too.”
+
+“Well, I hardly meant she should actually be there,” he went on in a
+meaning voice. “She’d be rather in the way, wouldn’t she? I don’t know
+that I could do with any one else but you.”
+
+He stepped closer to her, and slipped his arm round her shoulders. “A
+third person will always be in the way when I am with you, Hal.”
+
+She changed colour, and breathed fitfully, moving as if to disengage
+herself from his arm.
+
+“No, don’t go. This is very harmless, and I’ve been exceedingly good
+for a long time, now, haven’t I?”
+
+“All the greater pity to spoil your record,” putting up her hand to
+remove his.
+
+But he only clasped her fingers tightly, and drew her closer, till he
+could feel her heart palpitating a little wildly; and that gave him
+courage.
+
+“It has been far harder than you have the remotest idea of. I deserve
+one kiss, if only by way of encouragement.”
+
+His face was close to hers now, and with a little murmuring sound of
+gladness he kissed her cheek.
+
+“Little woman,” he murmured, “I’ve grown desperately fond of you. I
+hardly know how to do without you. Be a sensible little girl, won’t
+you?”
+
+She disengaged herself resolutely then, but she was not angry, and her
+eyes were shining.
+
+“You are transgressing flagrantly—as I should express it in a newspaper
+report. Collect your forces, and retire gracefully, O transgressor.”
+
+“I suppose I really must go now. It’s been such a splendid day, hasn’t
+it?”
+
+He seemed to speak with a shadow of regret; and there was a shadow of
+regret in his eyes also as he riveted them on her face. Then he turned
+suddenly and picked up his cap.
+
+“Well—the best of friends must part—and the best of days come to an
+end. Good-bye, little girl.”
+
+With his cap in his hand, he suddenly put both his arms round her and
+kissed her with the old passionate eagerness—then he loosed her and
+turned to the door.
+
+“I’m in love with you, Hal—head over ears in love; but it’s a devilish
+hard world, and Heaven only knows what’s to come of it.”
+
+With which enigmatical sentence he let himself out and departed.
+
+When he had gone Hal stood quite still where he had left her, and
+looked into vacancy. About her lips there was the ghost of a smile. In
+her ears was only the recollection of the words, “I’m head over ears in
+love with you.”
+
+So, it was coming at last—the great, glad day of love and fulfilment.
+If he had set out to trifle with her at first, at least he was serious
+enough now. She, too, had only trifled in the beginning, seizing a
+little fun and adventure in her workaday world. There had been no
+reason to suppose it need hurt any one. Now, she, too, was serious.
+
+Perhaps the things detrimental to him that she had heard previously had
+some truth in them then, but he was changed now. Love had changed him.
+He was like another man. She had seen and felt it in a thousand ways
+that could not be translated into speech or writing. It was just that
+he was different, and in every particular it was to his advantage.
+
+She was different too. She did not resent the kiss, because she knew
+that he honestly cared for her. And she knew, too, that she honestly
+cared for him. The end of the enigmatical sentence rankled a little,
+but she did not led herself dwell upon it.
+
+She chose instead to remember how he had kissed her; and that he had
+confessed he was head over ears in love with her. Which only showed
+that Hal—for all her worldly wisdom and practical common sense—could be
+as blind and as romantic as anyone when her heart was touched, and her
+pulses romping feverishly at a memory that thrilled all her being.
+
+Three days later she had heard the conversation.
+
+Of course it was absurd—manifestly so—and yet, and yet—
+
+After a miserable twenty-four hours of fighting against her own
+uneasiness, she paid the flying visit to Lorraine, to see if she could
+glean any light on the gossip from her, only to return to the office
+baffled and tormented.
+
+It was the enigmatical sentence that pressed forward now, instead of
+the thrilling confession that he loved her. Was it possible he was
+indeed so base as to love her and tell her in the very same week that
+he had asked another woman to be his wife?
+
+And if so, what had prompted him? What was in his mind? Why had he not
+left things as they were, and refrained both from the kiss and the
+confession?
+
+And then above her tortured feelings rose the triumphant thought,
+goading and pleasing at the same time: “Whether it is true or not, he
+loves _me_—not her, the heiress, but me—Hal Pritchard—the peniless City
+worker.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+In the evening came the party at Dick Bruce’s home, and it was
+necessary, she knew, to thrust all recollection of Sir Edwin aside, in
+order to give rise to no questioning and appear as usual.
+
+So she dressed herself with special care, rubbed a pink tinge on to her
+white cheeks, bathed and refreshed eyes dulled by worry and shadows,
+and made her appearance, looking, if anything, a little more radiant
+than usual.
+
+“By Jove! you look stunning, Hal,” was her jovial uncle’s warm
+greeting. “Who’d ever have thought, to see the ugly little imp of a
+small child you were, that you would grow up into a fashionable,
+striking woman? I congratulate you. When’s the happy man coming along?”
+
+“When I’m tired of enjoying of myself,” she laughed, “and feel equal to
+coping with anything as trying as a husband. At present a brother keeps
+me quite sufficiently occupied,” and she passed on.
+
+Across the large, well-lit room, towering above every one around him,
+she saw the head and shoulders of Alymer Hermon. All about her, as she
+moved towards him, she heard the low-voiced query: “Who is he?”
+
+No society beauty at her zenith could have caused greater interest. He
+was looking grave, too, and thoughtful, which suited him better than
+laughter, giving him something of a look apart, and banishing all
+suggestion of the conceit and self-satisfaction that would have spoilt
+him. Then he caught sight of Hal, and instantly all his face lit up,
+and a twinkle shone in his eyes as he edged towards her.
+
+“How late you are! I thought you were never coming. Did your hair
+require an extra half-hour? I suppose you’ve been tearing it out by the
+roots over your faithless swain.”
+
+“I don’t know what you mean, and anyhow I shouldn’t be such a fool as
+to tear my own hair out by the roots for any one. If hair is coming out
+in that fashion, it shall be his roots.”
+
+“Come and sit down. I’ll soon find you a chair.”
+
+“What’s the good of that? We can’t converse unless you sit on the
+floor. I work too hard to spend my evening shouting banalities at the
+ceiling.”
+
+“Well, let’s hunt for a couch; there are plenty here on ordinary
+occasions. Isn’t it a poser where all the furniture goes to at a
+‘beano’ like this! There’s nothing in the hall, nor in the dining-room;
+and there doesn’t seem to be much here. Let’s make for the lounge.”
+
+“But I can’t take you away. I shall get my face scratched. You were
+made to be looked at, and half these silly people are staring their
+eyes out in your direction. I don’t know how you put up with it so
+serenely. I should want to bite them all. If I were a man, and had been
+burdened with an appearance like yours, I should want to hit Life in
+the face for it.”
+
+“Don’t be silly. What does it matter? It pleases them, and it doesn’t
+hurt me. I get my own back a little anyway... when I want to”—with a
+low, significant laugh.
+
+“Oh of course lots of women are in love with you,”—with a contemptuous
+sniff; “but if I were a man I wouldn’t give tuppence for the woman who
+made me a present of her affections. You miss all the fun of the chase,
+and the victory. It must be deadly dull.”
+
+“That’s what Lorraine has sometimes said; but what can I do? Shall I
+paint my face black?”
+
+“Oh, I’ve seen you look black enough, but it’s rather becoming than
+otherwise. Anyhow, it isn’t insipid. But you’ve grown quite manly
+lately, I suppose. I hear about you occasionally positively working
+hard. Heavens!—what you owe to Lorraine!”
+
+“I do,” fervently.
+
+“Then why in the world don’t you look after her a bit? I turned up
+unexpectedly at half-past one today, and found her sobbing her eyes
+out.”
+
+“You found Lorraine sobbing her eyes out...” incredulously.
+
+“I did. She told me not to tell you, as it was only nerves—but of
+course it wasn’t. You know as well as I that Lorraine doesn’t suffer
+from weepy nerves. It’s worry again; and she is looking thoroughly
+ill.”
+
+“Why again?...”
+
+He was looking grave enough now, and there was anxiety in his voice.
+
+“Oh, because there’s often something to worry her—either her mother, or
+her memories, or the future. I suppose you haven’t bothered to go and
+see her lately to cheer her up? Been too busy with your briefs!”
+
+“I was there yesterday, to inquire how she was after a bad sick
+headache. The room was all violets and snow-drops”; and his eyes grew
+soft.
+
+“And did she sight of her robust health knock you backwards?”
+
+Hal was irritable from the strain on her own nerves, and it pleased her
+to hurl sarcasms at him, feeling somehow angry at his calm,
+smoothly-flowing path to success.
+
+“I thought she looked ill, and I advised her to go away for a week.”
+
+“That was kind of you. And why won’t she take your safe advice?”
+
+“She won’t go alone, and she said there was no one to go with her.”
+
+“Too many briefs, eh?”
+
+“What have my briefs to do with it?”
+
+“Oh, nothing. She’s given hours and hours to you and your future; but
+of course you couldn’t risk sparing a week—”
+
+“But!...” he began with raised eyebrows.
+
+“Oh, don’t ‘but’ in that inane fashion. If you say it isn’t proper I
+shall scream. Lorraine is nearly old enough to be your mother, and she
+has far too much sense to be in love with you; and you wouldn’t be so
+idiotic as to imagine it any use for you to be in love with her.
+Therefore it’s only a companion she wants to keep her from moping and
+dwelling on sad thoughts; and you seem to be able to do that—as well as
+any of us; so why can’t you get another man, or boy if you prefer it,
+to go for a run into the country with you? Flip would take her by the
+next train if he were there. He wouldn’t care a farthing for
+scandalmongers. But I suppose he can do that sort of thing because he’s
+a man. And, anyhow, I don’t suppose she would go with you, even with a
+third person. She might think a whole week of you too much of a good
+thing.”
+
+His face has grown still more thoughtful, and he paid small heed to her
+taunts.
+
+Lorraine sobbing, Lorraine ailing, Lorraine unhappy, filled his mind.
+What could have happened to upset her so? True, she had not been
+looking well for some weeks, and had complained of headaches and
+weariness; but he felt sure something quie apart had transpired to
+upset her so thoroughly.
+
+Neither did he think it was Hal’s version of the usual worries. He
+greatly feared his own people had made some move of which he was in
+ignorance. He contemplated with deep vexation the probability that he
+himself was indirectly the cause of her new trouble, and he mentally
+decided then and there to go to considerable lengths, if she wished it,
+on her behalf.
+
+Probably if he travelled down to some seaside place and saw her
+comfortably settled, and later on ran down to fetch her, she would be
+more easily induced to go. At any rate he would call the very next day
+and see, if his proposition simplified matters at all.
+
+Hal watched him a little impatiently, and at length remarked:
+
+“You seem to be thinking rather hard. Are you meditating upon
+Lorraine’s trouble, or my suggestion, that it is unlikely she could
+endure a whole week of you, unadulterated?”
+
+“Both,” with a humorous glance at her. “I’m thinking it would be
+interesting to find out the truth in both cases.”
+
+“Well, you won’t do that. Lorraine never tells her troubles. Not even
+to me. And she’s too tender-hearted to hurt your feelings on the other
+question.”
+
+“I’m not afraid of that.”
+
+His face grew a little brighter, and, as if satisfied with the result
+of his cogitations, he changed the subject.
+
+“What’s making you so ratty tonight? Is it the faithless swain?”
+
+“I don’t know what you mean.”
+
+“Perhaps you haven’t seen the evening paper.”
+
+“I haven’t. I’m sick to death of papers by six o’clock.”
+
+“Well, you oughtn’t to have missed it tonight, and then you’d have had
+the pleasure of seeing the announcement of the faithless swain’s
+engagement to the rich heiress.”
+
+Hal bit her lip suddenly, and felt her blood run cold, but she kept her
+outward composure perfectly, and merely commented:
+
+“Oh, you mean about Sir Edwin Crathie and Miss Bootes!… that’s very old
+news.”
+
+“Well, it was only in the paper tonight anyhow; and only given as a
+rumour then. I was going to ask you if it is true. They say he’s in the
+dickens of a mess for money. But of course you know all about it.”
+
+He was enjoying himself now, feeling that he was getting a little of
+his own back, and it made him unconsciously merciless.
+
+“It must have been rather a trying moment when you had to break to him
+that you couldn’t possibly pay any of his debts, and that therefore you
+must part?”
+
+“I don’t know anything about his debts. They don’t interest me. I can
+beat him at golf, playing level, and that’s far more to the point.”
+
+“Then you are going to play golf with him, while Miss Bootes bears his
+proud name in return for paying his debts! Sure, it sounds a nice handy
+arrangement for him.”
+
+Then Hal got up.
+
+“I don’t want to _talk_ to you, because you are talking such drivel;
+and I don’t want to _look_ at you, because your pink and white and blue
+and gold irritate me beyond words, so you’d better go and stand in the
+middle of the room for the benefit of those who delight to gaze; and
+I’ll go in search of a refreshingly ugly person who can talk sense!”
+
+Hermon gave a low chuckle of enjoyment, and continued to chuckle to
+himself until she was lost to sight and his hostess was introducing
+some charming débutante to him. The débutante was pink and white and
+blue and gold likewise, and gazed up at him adorably under long curling
+lashes; but he might have expressed a fellow-feeling with Hal, for he
+found himself merely bored, and longed to go in search, not of a
+refreshingly ugly person, but of the refreshingly irritable, snappy,
+unappreciative one who had just left him.
+
+When at last he was free, however, he found Hal had complained of a
+headache and gone home early, unattended.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+
+On her way home Hal stopped the taxi and bought an evening paper. When
+she got it, however, she found Dudley there, so she merely held it
+under her cloak.
+
+“You are back early,” he said, in a surprised voice.
+
+“Yes. It was very formal and very dull, and I was tired.”
+
+He glanced up with questioning eyes. It was something new for Hal not
+to stay untill the last moment at a festivity. He thought she looked a
+little paler than usual, and there were shadows about her eyes, but she
+interrupted any comment he might make by an inquiry after Doris.
+
+“She is very well.”
+
+He stopped short rather suddenly, and seemed thoughtful. He had been
+urging Doris to fix the date of their wedding, and let him see about
+taking a house or a flat, but she had seemed to avoid the subject
+lately, and he was a little troubled.
+
+“I suppose poor Basil is much the same?”
+
+“Yes. He and Ethel were both asking what had become of you. They said
+you hadn’t been up for a long time.”
+
+“I haven’t. I’ll go tomorrow. Good-night,” and she kissed him, and went
+upstairs.
+
+In her own room she sat on the bed, and read the evening paper.
+
+Yes, it was there sure enough, but it was only given as a rumour. “We
+understand there is a rumour…” How well she knew the phrase, with its
+dangerous suggestiveness, and safe retreat. She wondered who had
+started the rumour, and how the paper had got it.
+
+But, again, insistently she asserted it could not be true. If it had
+not been for last Saturday she might have believed it. But after that…
+no, he could not be so base. She put the thought away from her, and
+tried to sleep, but her eyes would look out into the blackness, and her
+brain ask questions.
+
+“What if it were true?” She clenched her hands and fought the question.
+It could not be true; why worry? Yet he had never made the slightest
+suggestion of marrying her. She remembered that, but scorned it.
+
+Why should he? There had been nothing lover-like between them until the
+previous Saturday; and of course had there been any one else, it would
+have been so easy to go on the same and make no change that particular
+afternoon.
+
+Finding what comfort she could out of these thoughts, she fell at last
+into a troubled sleep.
+
+The following afternoon, in fulfilment of her promise, she went up to
+Holloway from the office. Doris was out, and Ethel not home yet, but
+the door was opened to her by a gaunt stranger, who said:
+
+“Come in. This is one of my days. I’m in charge this afternoon.”
+
+Hal looked into the angular face, which appeared to her as if it had
+been roughly hewn with a chisel, by some one who was a mere amateur,
+and she could not repress a little smile.
+
+“I don’t think I’ve met you before. Are you—are you—a friend of Mr.
+Hayward’s?”
+
+“Well, he’s a friend of mine, if that will do as well. I’m generally
+know here as G. The letter isn’t stamped on my face, but it’s on the
+door of my flat, and that’s much the same.”
+
+She stood aside for Hal to pass down the passage, adding grimly as Hal
+loitered, with rather an amused, engaging expression:
+
+“I don’t stand for much more than a door, with a G on it, as I often
+tell Mr. Hayward, but I suppose it’s all right.”
+
+“A little more occasionally,” suggested Hal. “A door wouldn’t be much
+use to Mr. Hayward, anyhow.”
+
+“That’s what he says. Won’t you go down to his room?”
+
+“What are you going to do?”
+
+“Get the tea. It’s one of the few things I can do passably well.”
+
+“Let me come and help. It won’t take long. I’m interested in that door.
+You see, I’m not even G; and I don’t possess a front door.”
+
+The music-teacher looked searchingly into her face, and was evidently
+pleased with what she saw, for she adopted a friendly note, and seemed
+ready to chat. Hal followed her into the little kitchen, and commenced
+to take off her hat.
+
+“I’m an old friend,” she volunteered, “and I often leave my hat in
+here. Are both Mr. Hayward’s sisters out?”
+
+“Miss Hayward will be late tonight, and her sister is uncertain. It
+depends somewhat upon which young man she is out with,” in acid tones.
+
+Hal glanced up in astonishment, but her companion was busy with the
+cups and saucers, and did not notice the look.
+
+“All I can say is, I’m sorry for that nice gentleman who is fool enough
+to think of marrying her. Lord! he’d be safer with some one with a face
+like a door-knocker, such as mine. But there, they’re all the same; and
+the nicest of them are generally the biggest fools.”
+
+Hal grasped the situation at once, and instead of enlightening her
+concerning her own identity, said casually:
+
+“There’s another young man as well, is there?”
+
+“There is so. A pawnbroker I should take him to be, who wears the
+jewellery left in his care on his person for safety. As a matter of
+fact, I believe he is a South African millionaire. He brought her home
+one day, and Blakde—that’s the housekeeper’s husband down
+below—recognised him. He was out in South Africa in the war, and he saw
+him then.”
+
+Hal drummed on the table with her fingers to assume nonchalance.
+
+“Does Miss Hayward know?”
+
+“Know? Of course she doesn’t. How should she know, particularly if that
+artful monkey did not want her to? I don’t know where the poor sick man
+would be now but for me. She’s always off somewhere—that minx—and I
+rush back from my music pupils, because I can’t rest for the thought of
+him here all alone. I’ve given one up, who wanted a lesson at half-past
+four every day. That’s the time he needs his tea.”
+
+“Why do you do all this for him?” Hal found herself asking, a little
+unaccountably. “He is nothing to you, is he—no relation, I mean?”
+
+“Nothing to me!… Oh, isn’t he though! I’d like to know what is
+anything, if he’s nothing?”
+
+She rattled the cups and saucers a little restlessly, and Hal, with
+growing interest, waited for her to go on.
+
+“Before I knew him, I was nothing in the world but a door with a letter
+on it, as I’ve just told you. That’s all I stood for, a mere letter of
+the alphabet who paid a monthly rent. I told him so, when I first came
+across, and he said, ‘Well, I’m very glad they didn’t leave G out of
+the alphabet.’ That’s all.”
+
+“But I’m his slave now. Nobody cared whether there was a G or not
+before. It isn’t pleasant to feel you’re a mere cypher, with no
+particular meaning to any one; just shot in haphazard to fill up a
+blank—a mere creature, useful to teach exercises and scales to odious
+children one only longs to slap.
+
+“Fancy being expected to keep yourself alive in a dingy little flat,
+for ever alone, just to do that!” The cups rattled more restively
+still. “I say, the universe is the grimmest jester there ever was. Me
+to teach music to keep life in a body that doesn’t want it! If I’d been
+employed laying out corpses in their grave-clothes there’d have been
+some sense in it. I’m not much more that a figurehead of an old hulk
+myself. But music!… music!… Oh Lord, and I haven’t one real note of it
+in my whole composition.”
+
+Hal seated herself on the table. With her quick intuition she perceived
+at once entertainment of an original kind was before her, and she
+promptly laid herself out to obtain all she could.
+
+“Why do you teach music? I don’t think you do quite suggest a
+musician?”
+
+“Of course I don’t.”
+
+The gaunt spinster was cutting some bread-and-butter now with a savage
+air.
+
+“Do I suggest anything, except perhaps a butcher or an undertaker? Yet
+I can only keep myself alive with music. That’s the jest of the Arch
+Humorist. My father was a clergyman. He droned out services for fifty
+years in a hamlet, with a little square church like a wooden money-box.
+I was taught music so that I could—well—make the tin-pot organ groan, I
+used to call it. I had twenty-five years of that, with never a break. I
+got so that, to keep myself from turning into a stone gargoyle on the
+organ seat, I must have my little jest too.
+
+“One way I had it was by making the organ groan dismallest at weddings
+and christenings, and squeak hilariously at funerals. Father never
+noticed, he’d already turned gargoyle, you see, and as for the village
+people! well, it suited them, because they always wept at weddings, and
+overate themselves at funerals.”
+
+“And then?…” Hal was so thoroughly enjoying herself now, she had almost
+forgotten the invalid.
+
+“Well, then the gargoyle died, or ran down, or something. I should
+think he got tired of sing-song the tender mercies of God to the devout
+people, and His judgments on the wicked. It always seemed to me the
+good folks got the nastiest knocks; and the wicked, well, they fairly
+left the green bay tree behind.
+
+“Anyhow, I’d been devout enough, as far as sinning goes, for forty
+years. I wasn’t even blessed with the chance to be anything else. Then
+a new parson came, an underdone young man with new fal-da-dal ideas. I
+wonder how soon _he’d_ become a gargoyle? I defy him to stand out long
+against the cast-iron nonentity of that village. But he didn’t take
+kindly either to me or my music. Hadn’t any sense of humour at all. I
+don’t know what I ever knew a clergyman who had. Perhaps a man couldn’t
+very well go on being a clergyman if he possessed such a trait.
+
+“Anyhow, this particular one did not think I put enough expression into
+the tunes. He said they hardly sounded like sacred tunes at all; which
+wasn’t surprising, when you come to think that sometimes a low note and
+sometimes a high note on that little tin-pot organ would take it into
+its head to stick, and would either boom or squeak all through the
+thing I was playing.” Hal burst out laughing, quite unable to contain
+herself any longer, but the spinster went on calmly: “The tune might
+just as well have been ‘Down by the Old Bull and Bush’ then, but it
+wasn’t my fault, because when your hands and arms and feet and eyes and
+ears are all struggling to keep time with a village choir that varies
+its pace every few bars, you’ve got nothing left to release a stuck
+note with.”
+
+“I hope you didn’t tell the under-done young parson about ‘The Old Bull
+and Bush’?” said Hal, still rocking with enjoyment and bent chiefly
+upon leading her on.
+
+“I’d never heard of it then, or I might have. Even that won’t reach the
+village I’m thinking of for a hundred years; and then they’ll play it
+until the very birds lose heart, and think they are uncannily up to
+date. So they are if you count it when things come round the second
+time. I told him if the organ seemed to be playing ‘Yankee Doodle,’ I
+supposed it was because it felt like it; as, for twenty-five years, it
+had more or less pleased itself at my expense.
+
+“But he’ll be a gargoyle soon, and then he won’t notice, and it will
+boom and squaek to its heart’s content. Of course I ought to have
+stayed on because I matched it all, and I didn’t mind the booming and
+squeaking as long as the choir didn’t get convulsed, and stop
+altogether—because that was liable to catch father’s attention. A
+gargoyle is out of place in London. It’s as mad for me to be here as
+that I’m here to teach music. After I became fossilised I ought to have
+stayed on till I died, and then that self-willed organ could have
+fairly squeaked itself out over my corpse. Come along and have some tea
+now. Poor Mr. Hayward will be getting faint.”
+
+“But you’re too perfectly delicious for anything!” Hal cried, springing
+off the table. “Why haven’t I known you for years? Why haven’t I known
+you all my life? You must meet my cousin Dick Bruce. You absolutely
+_must_, with the least possible delay. He’ll simply dote on you. Come
+along to Basil, and tell me heaps and heaps more”; and she caught her
+by the arm in the friendliest fashion, and half-pulled her along to the
+little sitting-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+
+“What a gossip you two have been having!” Basil said, and, seeing the
+laughter in Hal’s eyes, he added, “has G been telling you some of her
+amazing theories, or tearing the existing order of the universe to
+shreds?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know, but she’s simply immense. Have you heard about the
+tin-pot organ that will play its own way, and the choir that gets
+convulsed, and the underdone young parson? She’s simply got to know
+Dick. He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
+
+“Yes; I’ve heard most of it. She plays an organ of laughter for me
+nowadays, that makes me bless the day she was born.”
+
+The gaunt spinster positively blushed.
+
+“Oh, that’s just your way,” she snapped, bashfully trying to hide her
+pleasure. “If I hadn’t been G, a pretty, charming young woman with real
+music in her might have been, and you’d have liked that much better.”
+
+“No, I shouldn’t. She’d have played ‘Home, Sweet Home,’ with
+variations, and ‘The Maiden’s Prayer’—I know her at a glance. If you do
+only play scales and exercises I’m sure you manage to put a lot of
+character into them.”
+
+“That’s only thumping; and who wants thumping?”
+
+“I do, when it’s the universe. I’m just as much askew with it as you
+are, only I haven’t got the wit to thump it so satisfactorily. You are
+going it for the two of us now.”
+
+“Still, you’re not a gargoyle…” with a queer twist of her face that
+delighted Hal.
+
+“I shall positively take you to Dick myself,” she said, “or bring him
+here to you. He’ll talk to you about a mother’s patience, and babies;
+and you’ll talk to him about gargoyles and organs, and Heaven only
+knows where you’ll both get to; but I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
+
+“I don’t know who Dick may be, but if he talks to me about mothers and
+babies”—grimly—“I shall groan like that organ did at christenings. They
+may be useful in the general scheme, but beyond that I don’t know how
+any one can put up with them at all; with their potsy-wotsy, and
+pucksie-ducksie, and general stickiness. It’s quite enough for me that
+I have to knit stupid little socks for their silly little feet, for
+bread-and-butter. The most I can say for it is, that it’s a more
+satisfactory plan than casting your bread on the waters, on the
+off-chance some kindly Elijah will butter it.”
+
+“Where are the socks, G?” Basil asked, looking round. “I should like
+Hal to enjoy the edifying spectacle of your knitting babies’ socks.”
+
+“You don’t mean that,” interrupted Hal comically. “I can’t believe it.”
+
+“It’s the horrible truth,” asserted the spinster, calmly going on with
+her tea—“most of them go to little black whelps in the Antipodes. After
+all, it isn’t any more incongruous than the music—is it?”
+
+“But you don’t do it for the under-done young parson, surely?”
+
+“Goodness gracious, no. What an idea! He wiped his hands of me long
+ago. The wildest stretch of imagination, you see, could not picture me
+ever looking like an angel; so he left me to my fate!” And again the
+humorous twisted smile delighted her small audience.
+
+“Have you seen Splodgkins lately?” Basil asked. “You say all babies are
+sticky and objectionable; but you must admit that sticky imp down below
+is better than two-thirds of the other babies in the world shining with
+soap polish.”
+
+“So he is”; and the grim face relaxed still further. “He was sitting in
+my way on the stairs this morning, and as I could not get by, I said,
+‘Make room, please, Master Splodgkins; you don’t own the universe.’
+‘Eth oi doth,’ he lisped. ‘Noime ain’t thplodums. Damn th’ ooniverth.’”
+
+It was good to hear Basil’s whole-hearted laughter.
+
+“We ought to have had him to tea,” he said regretfully. “He would have
+delighted Hal. He’s two-and-a-half years old”—turning to her—“this
+remarkable person-age; and, like most gutter snipes, has developed as
+an ordinary child of four. He and G have debates occasionally. He
+wishes to be called D, because that is the letter on his front door,
+and ‘Splodgkins’ hurts his dignity but he’s so funny when he is
+indignant we can’t resist teasing him.”
+
+A little wistful smile crept into the invalid’s eyes. “We have lots of
+fun in this dingy old barrack between us,” he told Hal. “We are rarely
+silly enough to be dull, with so many queer, interesting folks under
+the same roof.”
+
+Hal felt something like a sudden lump in her throat, but she smiled
+brightly as she looked from one to the other, feeling somehow the
+better for knowing such waifs of life and circumstance, who could yet
+baffle Fate’s pitilessness with genuine laughter.
+
+“Dick is writing a most weird and incomprehensible book on vegetables
+and babies. I’m quite certain you could give him lots of ideas,” she
+remarked to G.
+
+“He’d better put Splodgkins in if he wants to make it sell,” said she.
+“Only they mightn’t allow it at the libraries. Splodgkins’s vocabulary
+is fortunately sometimes indistinguishable for his lisp.”
+
+“Splodgkins couldn’t be translated,” put in Basil. “He sometimes comes
+to tea with me and G; but he is almost too exhausting. I think he knows
+every bad word in the English language; but one has to forgive him
+because he always saves half his cake for his baby sister, and hurls
+violent abuse at any one who dares to disparage her.
+
+“Are you going?...” as G got up. “I’m sure Miss Pritchard doesn’t want
+you to leave us.”
+
+“Miss Pritchard!...” In a horrified voice.
+
+“Never mind,” said Hal quickly. “It didn’t matter.” Then to Basil, in
+explanation: “G said something about Doris’s fiancé, not knowing I was
+his sister, but I quite forget what it was. Good-bye, G,” holding out a
+frank hand. “I think you’re a delightful person, and I’m just as glad
+as Basil that you weren’t left out of the alphabet.”
+
+A few minutes later Doris came in, looking flushed and stealthy, and
+the first thing Hal noticed was a loverly little diamond brooch she had
+not seen before.
+
+“What a darling brooch,” she exclaimed, after their greeting. “Did
+Dudley give you that? He might have shown it to me.”
+
+“No...” stammered Doris, turning red. “I’ve had it a long time. It’s
+not real.”
+
+“Well, it’s a wonderful imitation, then” said Hall a little drily—and
+remembered the man like a pawnbroker’s shop.
+
+Then Ethel joined them, and Hal’s quick eyes saw the still increasing
+anxiety, just as surely as she saw the increased furtiveness in Doris’s
+side-long glances. And because of all that she felt for Ethel, she
+trust her own care into the background resolutely, and made the evening
+as gay as she could while she was there.
+
+Only afterwards she went home through the lamp-lit darkness, feeling as
+if some vague shadow had descended silently upon her little world.
+
+What was this insistent, nameless fear at her own heart? Why was
+Lorraine weeping when she found her yesterday? Why was trouble steadily
+gathering on Ethel’s face? What was this gossip about Doris?—
+
+The gloom of a foggy night added to her depression. Why, in the tube
+railway, did all these people about her look so white and tired and
+lifeless? Did they just go on in their niches, in the same way that the
+grotesque music-teacher had gone on in hers for all those monotonous
+years; only to become like an uncared-for, unwanted letter of the
+alphabet pushed in to fill up a blank in a big city at last?
+
+Were they all gargoyles-fixed, rigid, joyless, carved things, fastened
+in their respective niches, not for ornament, or for use specially, but
+just because the general machine seemed to require them?
+
+And if so—why?... why?... why?—
+
+It was so easy to be joyous if one was made for it. Such a little would
+make every one gay, if they were fashioned accordingly. What could be
+the good of disfiguring a beautiful world with all these vacant,
+expressionless, hopeless masks?
+
+Hal did not read poetry. She was perfectly frank about being utterly
+bored with it. When she had anything to say, she liked to say it
+straight out, she explained, without twisting it about to make it rhyme
+with something just shoved in to fill up the line; and she preferred
+other people to do the same.
+
+Yet, perhaps, at that particular moment, had she seen the lines:
+
+“Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
+To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
+Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
+Remould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire?”
+
+
+In her present mood she might have recognised also the stateliness and
+the beauty of a thought transcribed into verse.
+
+Or possibly she would have obstinately asserted there was no occasion
+to introduce the word Love at all—and it was no one’s Heart’s Desire
+she wanted, but just a common-sense, reasonable amount of pleasure for
+all, and a spring-cleaning of all the gloomy, wooden faces.
+
+In the sitting-room at Bloomsbury she threw her hat down on the sofa,
+and ran her fingers through her hair with an almost petulant air.
+
+“I just feel tonight as if it was a rotten old world after all,” she
+said.
+
+Dudley, sitting poring over some plans with a reading-lamp, looked up
+in mild surprise.
+
+“And what has made you feel all that?—not Basil, I’m sure.”
+
+“Well, there’s no occasion to be so very sure. I think it’s decidedly
+rotten where Basil is concerned.”
+
+She came and half-sat on one of the arms of his chair, and rested her
+hand on his coat-collar.
+
+“I wonder what G would think of a sane man spending his evening ruling
+pointless-looking lines on a big sheet of paper?”
+
+“And who may ‘G’ be?”
+
+“I hardly know—except that she’s the quaintest person I’ve ever struck
+yet—and I’ve seen some funny ones.”
+
+“Oh, I know who you mean. Yes; she is an oddity. Well, how was every
+one. How was Doris?”
+
+“I hardly know. She was not there when I arrived, and she did not come
+in until a few minutes before Ethel.”
+
+“I wonder where she was?” thoughtfully. “I asked her to come for tea
+and a walk in the Park today, and she said she could not leave Basil.”
+
+Hal looked keenly into his face, and immediately he smiled and said:
+
+“I suppose the tenant opposite was free unexpectedly, and Doris was
+able to get out after all. Poor little girl. I’m glad. But I wonder she
+didn’t telephone me.”
+
+Hal turned away, feeling a little sick at heart.
+
+Were they all then in the maelstrom of this gloomy sense of an
+engulfing cloud? What could be the meaning of Doris’s behaviour? Did
+Dudley suspect anything? Certainly he had been a good deal preoccupied
+of late, and spoken very little of the future.
+
+She looked out of her window across the blue of London lights, and her
+thoughts roved a little pitifully across the wide reaches of her own
+small world. From Sir Edwin, with his high post in the nation’s
+councils, and Lorraine with her brilliant atmosphere of success and
+triumph, to the dingy block of flats in Holloway, where, in spite of
+almost tragic circumstances, to quote Basil, they had “lots of fun”
+among themselves.
+
+She believed he meant it, too. It was no empty phrase. Rather something
+in touch with Life’s great scheme of compensations, which she
+manipulates in her own great way, beyond the comprehension of puny
+humans.
+
+Certainly neither Sir Edwin nor Lorraine could boast of “lots of fun.”
+Rather, instead, much care and worry and brain-weary grappling with
+problems of modern succesful conditions.
+
+She wondered, with a still further sinking at heart, if perhaps the
+time had come when she would have to grapple too. Was it very likely,
+after their delightful friendship, and after that confession of his the
+previous Saturday, Sir Edwin was prepared tamely to give her up? In her
+heart, she knew him better.
+
+And yet, if the rumour was not false, what else could result? Vaguely
+she felt it might be one of those problems of modern society, coming
+across the evenly flowing river of her life, to demand solution. Not
+the solution of the crowd—to follow a beaten track is rarely
+difficult—but her own individual solution, which might mean much
+warfare of spirit and weary heartache. The foregoing of an alluring
+pleasure she deeply longed to take—not for any reward nor any gain, but
+solely for the sake of the mysterious power abroad in the world which
+is called Good; and which demands of the Present Hour that it is ready
+to crucify itself and its deep desires for the sake of the Future.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+
+As the days of that new spring-time crept on, it appeared that the
+shadow descending upon Hal’s little world had come to stay.
+
+Things happened with surprising quickness, and each happening was of
+that particular order which presents itself enshrouded in gloom, and,
+with a pitilessness which is almost wanton, refuses to allow one gleam
+of the sunshine, carefully wrapped up in its gloomy folds, to send a
+single glad ray of hope to those wrestling in its sinister grip.
+
+One knows the sunshine may possibly be hidden there somewhere—sunshine
+always is hidden in each event somewhere—but what is the use of
+expecting it weeks or months or years hence, when it seems that one
+single ray now would be of more help than a whole sun in some vague,
+distant future?
+
+May it not be that in the development needed to fit the individual for
+the full and glad enjoyment of the sunshine to come, a ray of light
+would blur the film, and spoil the picture instead of producing one
+that is strong, clear and beautiful?
+
+So, a dauntless belief in the sunshine to come, without a ray to
+promise it, may make for greater perfectness through steadfast courage
+than had one beam crept through to lessen the need for effort and for
+strong enduring.
+
+Yet it was strange that the grim hand of destiny should strike at so
+many in that little world at the same time, and that its blows should
+be of that intimate nature which allows of no speech, even to one’s
+dearest friend.
+
+Lorraine knew that the rumour of Sir Edwin Crathie’s engagement was an
+admitted fact; but she did not know how hard it hit Hal. She could only
+have learnt by accident, and, because of events in her own life, she
+was out of the line of such a discovery.
+
+Hal knew that Lorraine, after a nervous breakdown, had gone somewhere
+into the country for a week or so, and that Alymer Hermon had run down
+later to see how she was getting on, and if he could do anything for
+her, but of the almost tragic circumstances that led up to his action
+she knew nothing, and imagined the merest generous attention.
+
+She saw also the preoccupied, aged look growing on Dudley’s face, and
+knew that the shadow was over him too.
+
+Ethel saw the change creeping over Basil as no one else saw it, and
+knew that not even the far future could shed a single gleam for her
+upon the darkness coming.
+
+Yet—for life is oversad to dwell upon rayless darkness even in
+books—bright, enduring, beautiful sunshine was wrapped up in those
+black clouds to flood the little world with joy at the appointed hour.
+
+It was Lorraine’s life that events moved first. After Hal left her, she
+spent a wretched, restless, brain-racking afternoon, and was only just
+able to struggle through her part at night.
+
+And afterwards she became suddenly sickened with the need to struggle.
+She was not extravagant by nature, and had saved enough money from her
+enormous salaries to live very comfortably if she chose.
+
+A nausea of the theatrical world and its incessant demands began to
+obsess her. She felt that from the first day she stood in a manager’s
+office, seeking the chance to start, it had given her everything except
+happiness.
+
+Money, success, position, jewels, fine clothes, admirers, friends,
+adventures, gaieties—all these had come, if by slow degrees, but not
+one single gift had contained the kernel of happiness.
+
+Perhaps it was her own fault. Perhaps the trouble lay in the wrong
+start she had made and never been able to retrieve. But at least there
+was time to try another plan yet.
+
+Finally, feeling the nerve strain of recent events was seriously
+affecting her health, she decided to arrange a week’s holiday to think
+the matter out.
+
+But then what of Alymer?
+
+Nothing had changed her mood since his uncle paid his ill-chosen visit.
+She did not actually intend to try to influence Alymer against his
+people, but she did intend that he should not change to her, nor pass
+out of her life, if she could help it.
+
+Because she, and she alone, had started him off on his promising
+career, she meant to be there to watch it for some time to come. Her
+influence might not any longer be actually needed. The devine fire to
+achieve had already lit into a steady flame in his soul, and her
+presence would make very little difference in future. He had tasted the
+sweets of success, and ambition would not let him reject all that the
+future might hold.
+
+But she must be there to see. In her lonely life he meant everything
+now. There was no need for him to think of marriage for years yet; and
+in the meantime she felt her claim upon him was as strong as any
+mother’s fears.
+
+So she waited for his next visit, wondering much what would transpire
+if he had heard of his uncle’s call.
+
+As it happened, he had. In the interview he had sought with his aunt,
+to request her not to interfere in his affairs, the indignant lady
+hurled at him the story of the visit; or such garbled account of it as
+she had received from the participator himself.
+
+That was quite enough for Alymer—that and Hal’s account of Lorraine in
+tears. He felt that his benefactress, his great friend, had been
+abominably insulted, and he hastened in all the warmth of his ardour to
+her side.
+
+Lorraine was waiting for him in her low, favourite chair, and when he
+first saw her he could not suppress an exclamation to see how frail she
+seemed suddenly to have grown.
+
+Her skin of ivory whiteness, enhanced by the tinge of colour in her
+cheeks, and there were shadows round her eyes placed there by no
+cosmetic art.
+
+All that was most chivalrous, most protective, most affectionate in his
+nature rose uppermost, and shone in his face as he said:
+
+“Lorraine, it is too feeble just to say I am sorry. I heve been cursing
+the blunder with all my heart ever since I knew.”
+
+“That was dear of you,” she said; “but of course I knew that you
+would.”
+
+“I hoped so. I told myself over and over, you must know it had all
+happened without my knowledge.”
+
+Lorraine had no mind to make light of the matter. She felt she would
+hold him better by simply leaving it alone, and letting his own
+feelings work on her side.
+
+She knew of course that his uncle had probably tried to injure her
+case; but then, Alymer was a man of the world, and she trusted him,
+knowing what he must about his uncle, to judge her kindly.
+
+But all this seemed to fade into nothingness when she saw the distress
+and the affection in his eyes—the anger that any one had dared to hurt
+her, and the eager wish to make amends. It made all her smouldering
+love leap up into flame, and the strength of the suddenly roused
+passion almost frightened her. She felt there was desperation in it,
+the desperation of the drowning man who catches at a straw, of the
+condemned man who seizes a last joy.
+
+Quite unexpectedly a reckless, surging desire began to take possession
+of her soul. She had lost so much already; been hit so many times;
+missed so many things.
+
+A picture came back to her, with a new allurement. The picture of
+herself with a little one of her own, floating down the peacefully
+flowing river to some quiet haven, far removed from the glare of the
+footlights. Should she make a bold bid to win that much from the years
+that were left?
+
+She sat quiet, looking into the heart of the fire while the thoughts
+coursed through her brain, and her long lashes hid from the man above
+her the glowing dreamlights in her eyes.
+
+Then he too pulled up a low chair and sat down, so that his head was
+more nearly on a level with hers, and still his eyes looked at her with
+that regretful, protecting expression.
+
+“You must go away, Lorry,” he said, using Hal’s pet name; “you are
+beginning to look thoroughly ill.”
+
+“I don’t feel well, but I haven’t the heart to go alone. I should only
+get melancholia.”
+
+“Hal seemed to think I ought to offer you a little companionship.” He
+said it with a slightly bashful air.
+
+“Hal?…” in a sharp, questioning voice. “What has Hal been saying to
+you?”
+
+“Not much. She was in great form at the Bruces’ last night. She rubbed
+it into me finely on various subjects, and finally went off with her
+head in the air to find some one refreshingly ugly who could talk
+sense.”
+
+They both laughed, but Lorraine’s eyes were thoughtful.
+
+“And what did she say about your companionship?”
+
+“Oh, that it was only some one to talk to and be company you wanted if
+you went away, and that I seemed to fill the post better than any one
+just now.” He paused, then added: “Do I?”
+
+She felt him looking hard into her face, and kept her eyes lowered. She
+did not want him to know that the thought of his companionship in the
+country was like the straw to the drowning man—the last joy to the
+condemned one.
+
+“You always make me forget the years, and feel young,” she said slowly
+and thoughtfully, “and I dare say that is a very good tonic in itself.”
+
+“You oughtn’t to need help from any one for that”; and she knew there
+was genuine admiration in his voice. “You never look anything but
+young. I suppose it is temperament.”
+
+“Temperatment doesn’t erase lines,” with a little sad smile.
+
+“Perhaps not, but it makes them, in some way, suit you; and they add to
+the character in a face.”
+
+“It is sweet of you to say so, Alymer, but it sounds a fairy tale. I
+don’t so very much mind growing old, if only it were not so…
+empty-handed.”
+
+“But surely you have so much!”
+
+“Not very much that counts. Anyhow, I hope some day you will have a
+great deal more.”
+
+“You are depressed. You must really get away somewhere at once.”
+
+He was grandfatherly now, the mood she always loved and laughed at, and
+her pulses quickened to it. He placed one of his large, strong-looking
+hand over hers—it covered them both out of sight—and he leaned a little
+nearer as he said:
+
+“I can see I shall have to take the ordering of it all. You have done
+worlds for me. Now I shall have to take you in hand.”
+
+A harsh expression crossed her face for a moment, thinking of what his
+mother had written her.
+
+“And go straight to perdition!” she said bitterly.
+
+He winced a little.
+
+“I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to make excuses for my own mother,” he
+remarked, with the quiet dignity that was already winning his name in
+the Law Courts, side by side with his gift for light satire. “You
+cannot but know in your heart just how far removed her outlook on the
+world is from ours.”
+
+She wanted to ask him if any outlook gave one woman the right to insult
+another at her pleasure, but she remembered Mrs. Hermon probably did
+not realise that she would have the fineness to see the insult, and was
+not even aware that she had been insulting.
+
+“I should like you to know my father,” he went on. “He is a very
+understanding man.”
+
+“But surely he…”
+
+“No; he knew nothing about it. When my mother spoke to him he asked her
+not to interfere.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+For a few swift moments the generous treatment called to her own
+generosity, and for the sake of the understanding father she was almost
+ready to let go the straw. Only then again came the recollection of the
+uncle, and his impudent offer to substitute himself, and make amends at
+the same time; and again the smouldering fires leaped up, fed by the
+strong, protecting touch of the hand upon hers.
+
+“I think Hal was right,” Alymer was saying. “If my companionship, just
+to run down and see how you are, wherever you may be, will help to
+cheer you up and amuse you, there is no reason why I shouldn’t manage
+it.”
+
+She knew he was making a concession of which he was half-afraid,
+because of what he owed her, and while one half of her longed to be
+self-sacrificing and release him, the other half fiercely demanded the
+straw that yet might save. And still she said nothing, gazing, gazing,
+into the flames.
+
+“What do you think?” he asked.
+
+“I hardly know,” with a tired smile. “Of course I want you, but if—”
+
+“Never mind the ‘if’,” cheerfully. “If I promise to run down and see
+you, will you go away at once, and try to get well again quickly?”
+
+“It would make a lot of difference.”
+
+“Then that settles it. Can you start tomorrow?”
+
+“I think I could.”
+
+Her pulses were leaping fitfully now—leaping and bounding with a swift
+delight. Perhaps he felt it, for he withdrew his hand, and gave himself
+a little shake, as if warding off something dangerous.
+
+“Where will you go?” in a matter-of-fact voice.
+
+“I hardly know, but I like the sea. Any little place that is warm in
+the spring. I might as well motor down, so it doesn’t matter about
+trains, and the motor can come back for you.”
+
+“Shall I bring any one else?” his eyes searched her face.
+
+“Just as you like.” She leant forward and casually stirred the fire.
+“Anyhow, there is sure to be plenty of room at this time of year.”
+
+“Plenty of room, but not plenty of available companion chaperones,”
+with a little laugh.
+
+“Then we should have to make Sydney serve,” naming her chauffeur. She
+got up from her seat.
+
+“I suppose I must think about dinner,” glancing at the clock. “Are you
+joining me this evening?”
+
+“I can’t; I have to go to Morrison’s.”
+
+“How gay you are!”
+
+“It is diplomatic. Morrison could get me a brief tomorrow if he liked.”
+
+“There is a very pretty daughter, just out; isn’t there?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And is she so strikingly lovely?”
+
+“I suppose she is; but she is so full of airs and graces she irritates
+one almost past endurance.”
+
+“I’m afraid you are a severe critic. The way is made too smooth for
+you.”
+
+She had moved near to him again, and stood beside him with one hand
+resting lightly on the mantelpiece, and one foot on the fender. He was
+standing as usual with his back to the fire. He looked down into her
+upturned face, fascinating now from a touch of roguishness.
+
+“The splendid knight is hard to please; mere beauty is too
+commonplace.”
+
+“Isn’t it sure to be?” a little smile played round his lips as he made
+his gallant retort. “How can mere beauty ever appeal to me, who have
+been accustomed to all you have besides?”
+
+“Ah, flatterer!…” she said softly, and smiled into the fire.
+
+There was a tense moment in which he longed to bend down and kiss her
+as he had done when the room was full of violets, but instead he pulled
+himself up sharply and moved away.
+
+“Well, I must be off. Perhaps tonight I shall have the luck to be able
+to look at her from a distance, and not strike the jarring note. I’ll
+try to come in tomorrow to see what you have decided, and then I’ll run
+down on Friday afternoon for a long weekend, to see that you are taking
+decent care of yourself.” As an afterthought he added: “I suppose Hal
+couldn’t get off?”
+
+“I’ll ask her if you like. She would love it, if she could.”
+
+“And keep us amused too. I should get my head bitten off, but you could
+put it on again for me. Good-bye. Anyhow, it is a promise that you will
+go”; and with rather a hurried farewell, he was gone.
+
+Lorraine remained some moments gazing into the fire, and there was a
+softness in her eyes. She knew perfectly well that he had hurried at
+the last moment because when they stood together on the hearth he had
+wanted to kiss her.
+
+And she could not help comparing his strength in refraining with what
+would have been the action of most of the men she had known, who would
+have professed more, and meant less. She leaned her head down on her
+hand, and wondered a little pitifully:
+
+“Why had the best she had ever known come to her too late?”
+
+And then followed the dangerous thought: “Is it indeed too late?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+
+Lorraine was not able to see Hal, but she talked to her on the
+telephone, and told her she was going into the country at once, and
+Alymer was coming down for the weekend. “We wondered if you could get
+off too. Do try,” she said.
+
+Hal answered at once that she could not manage it this week, but
+possibly the next, if Lorraine were still away.
+
+“I’ve only arranged for a week’s holiday,” Lorr aine replied. “What a
+nuisance you should be unable to come this week.”
+
+As a matter of fact, Hal was only going out for the day with her cousin
+on Sunday, but an urgent little note from Sir Edwin had begged her to
+keep Saturday free for him; and because the suspense was becoming
+unendurable, she granted his request, determined to know the truth.
+
+So it happened that Lorraine motored down alone to a quaint little
+fishing-village on the south coast, where there was a charming,
+old-fashioned, creeper-decked hotel, too far from the railway for the
+ordinary weekend tourists, and patronised mainly by motorists in the
+summer.
+
+And on Friday the motor went back to town to fetch Alymer, bringing him
+down about four o’clock, unaccompanied.
+
+“So Sydney will have to be chaperone after all,” Lorraine said lightly.
+“Now, what should you like to do tomorrow?”
+
+“Is there any chance of fishing?”
+
+He asked the question with some diffidence, fearing that it might only
+bore her.
+
+Lorraine clapped her hands.
+
+“Exactly what I thought. We’re going to have the jolliest little
+fishing-smack imaginable for the whole day; and Sunday too, if you
+like; and take our lunch with us, and fish until we are tired.”
+
+A glad light leapt to Alymer’s eyes.
+
+“By gad! You are a trump,” he said.
+
+In the meantime Hal waited a little feverishly for Saturday. They were
+to have one of their long outings. Meet at twelve, motor for two hours,
+lunch at two, then a walk; back to town to dine, without changing, in
+some grill room.
+
+Sir Edwin had mapped it all out beforehand, sitting at his desk, with
+an anxious, unhappy expression, unrelieved by the evidences all around
+him of what he had achieved—of the proud position that was his. Indeed
+he almost wished he could will it all away, and be just an independent,
+moderately successful solicitor, able to please himself in all things;
+instead of bound by the demands of party and position.
+
+And those demands just now were very exacting. It was not an easy party
+to serve, and the less so in that its ranks numbered many soldiers of
+fortune of the swashbuckler type, who meant to hold the power they had
+attained partly on the exploitation of a lie, by fair means or
+otherwise; even if necessary by further lies—lies upon lies—but clever,
+carefully manipulated ones; not bald, childish, outspoken ones.
+
+One of their most prominent office-holders had recently perpetrated a
+lie of the latter type. Such a barefaced, impudent, obvious lie, that
+there was no possibility of covering it up, and the whole country
+talked of it. Music halls laughed at it, comic papers and comic songs
+rang with it, election platforms bristled with it.
+
+Naturally the party was very annoyed. One could imagine them saying
+indignantly to the offender: “Lie as much as you like, but for
+goodness’ sake have the common sense to lie cleverly. If you can’t do
+that, better confine yourself to merely distorting facts.”
+
+The official in question held a post in the same department as Sir
+Edwin—which meant that quite enough opprobrium had been recently hurled
+at the Law without risk of any further scandal.
+
+The party was not sufficiently strong for that. They had fright enough
+over a paragraph in the _Church Gazette_, hinting at a lady in
+connection with one of their Ministers—where there should be no lady;
+but prompt action had steered the ship through those shoals in safety.
+
+But all the same, this business of The Right Honourable Sir Edwin
+Crathie and the Stock Exchange had got to be attended to at once. Under
+no possible consideration must it leak out that a Cabinet Minister had
+been speculating so heavily, and lost to such an extent, that nothing
+but an immense sum of money could save him from disgrace, bankruptcy,
+and ruin.
+
+One friend and another had tided him over for some little time, but he
+had continued to be reckless and incautious, relying with an unpleasant
+sneer upon his title.
+
+“Oh well!” had been his conclusion; “if the worst comes to the worst, I
+can always sell my name to an heiress.”
+
+Finally, that unhappy condition had arrived. It had further chosen the
+worst possible moment—the moment when the music halls and comic papers
+were waxing hilarious over the badly executed lie.
+
+Sir Edwin had been summoned to a consultation that had been the reverse
+of pleasant. The only thing was that the way of escape had been
+thoughtfully planned for him. He had no need to hunt up the heiress for
+himself. She was considerately provided.
+
+Miss Bootes’ father was a wealthy Liberal, who had more than once
+generously supplied funds to the party, in return for some small favour
+he craved. Now he wanted a celebrity, with a title, for his daughter.
+Sir Edwin hardly came up to the required standard, but Mr. Bootes was
+easily persuaded that there was absolutely no limit to his
+possibilities, were he once set on his feet as far as money was
+concerned.
+
+The Prime Ministership, followed by a Peerage, were in his certain
+grasp, had he but the necessary money to back him.
+
+Papa Bootes said over an over to himself: “My daughter, Lady Elizabeth
+Crathie” (it was really Eliza, but had been discreetly changed to suit
+the fashion), and came to the conclusion that a Cabinet Minister for a
+son-in-law sufficiently banished the odorous flavour patent manures had
+given to his fortune.
+
+Finally he inquired the amount of Sir Edwin’s debts, and promised a
+cheque if the delicate little matter were settled.
+
+Hence the consultation, and the polite but firm intimation that Sir
+Edwin must close with the offer—that he had not even the right to
+choose ruin instead, because of its effect on the party.
+
+And of course, now the crisis had come, Sir Edwin did not want to close
+with the offer. In his own mind he consigned the party, and all
+belonging to it, to the very worst hell of Dante’s Inferno.
+
+But, beyond relieving his mind a little, their imaginary exodus did not
+help him in the least. He found himself in the very undesirable
+position of furnishing a telling example of the utter impossibility of
+serving two masters.
+
+To do his common sense justice he had never had the least intention of
+attempting to. Without any prevarication as far as his own feelings
+were concerned, he had quite honestly chosen to serve Mammon. Having
+decided thus far, he banished the very memory of any other possible
+master. He did not exist for him. Mammon, in that it meant place, and
+power, and money, was the only god he wanted to serve.
+
+And now?—
+
+Well, of course, the Little Girl must go. At first he said it harshly,
+shrugging his shoulders and pursing his lips. It had only been a
+pastime all through, and, thanks to her own pluck and sense, it had
+been one of those rare, delightful pastimes that, ended suddenly, might
+leave only a gracious, enjoyable memory behind. He was glad of that.
+
+Somewhere in his heart, that was mostly impressionless India rubber,
+there had proved to be a healthy, flesh-and-blood spot after all. She
+had found it quickly—gone straight to it with the unerring directness
+of a little child. It existed still—would always exist for her.
+
+But in future the India rubber would have to close over it, and hide it
+from all chance of discovery. In future he must not even remember it
+himself. For that way lay weakness. No serving of Mammon could be
+achieved, whichever way he turned, with the frank, candid, clever
+Little Girl.
+
+And so she must go; and since it was inevitable, the sooner the better.
+
+Then had come the afternoon’s golf; and, without asking himself why, he
+had hidden from her that there was any change. Afterwards, because the
+impending finale made him desire her as he had never desired her
+before, he went into the pretty little sitting-room and kissed her.
+
+When he hurriedly departed, he remembered only that the kiss had been
+sweet. Also that evidently no rumour had reached her yet. But of course
+it would. Any moment of any day her newspaper office might get the news
+and publish it.
+
+He spent a wretched week, torn mercilessly by his desire to serve two
+masters. In the end, because he was a man who hated to be thwarted, he
+swore a violent oath, and said that he would.
+
+Then he sent Hal the urgent little note, and made his plans for the
+day. They all hinged largely upon his hope to get her to go to his flat
+in Jermyn Street, after that grill-room dinner. That was why when they
+met he cleverly took the bull by the horns directly he saw in her eyes
+that she had heard the news. He appealed, with insight, to her sense of
+humour.
+
+“If you look at me like that,” he said, “I shall punish you by sitting
+down here, in St. James’s Park, on the curbstone, and giving you an
+explanation before all London that lasts an hour.”
+
+“I’ve a great mind to keep you to it,” with her low, musical laugh,
+“and send Peter to bring a phonograph man with a blank record to take
+it down.”
+
+“And a dozen journalists with snap-shot cameras, and biograph
+apparatus, to link us in notorious publicity to all eternity.”
+
+“No; I couldn’t stand that. What is your alternative?”
+
+“A long, perfect day in this heavenly sunshine, pretending anything in
+the world you like that will make us forget the stale, boresome, old
+week-day world. Then, at the end of it, the unfolding of a glorious
+plan that is an explanation in itself.”
+
+Hal looked doubtful, and seemed to cogitate. He waited in an anxiety he
+could scarce conceal, watching her mobile, sensitive face. Finally the
+sunshine and the light-hearted carelessness made the strongest appeal,
+and she gave in.
+
+“Very well. If it had been dull and cloudy I would not have agreed. But
+one daren’t trifle with sunshine. We’ll take our fill of it while it
+lasts.”
+
+So it happened that their last long day was one of the best they had
+known—each being clever enough to carry out the suggested programme and
+banish the following cloud for the time.
+
+Hal was a little feverish—a little gayer than usual, with some hidden
+strain; a little pathetically anxious to act an indifference she could
+not possibly feel, concerning that rumour, and throw herself heart and
+soul into their compact of forgetting everything for a little while
+except the sunshine and the exhilarating dash through a spring-decked
+England.
+
+In some places the hedges were white with hawthorn; and in sheltered
+nooks they sped past primroses, like pale stars in the grass. There
+were plantations of feathery, exquisite larch trees, their lovely green
+enhanced by tall dark pines, standing among them like sentinels. In gay
+gardens joyous daffodils nodded and laughed to them as they whirled
+past. Sir Edwin ventured an appreciative remark.
+
+“Don’t talk,” Hal said. “Pretend you are in a worldwide cathedral, and
+it is the great annual festival of spring.”
+
+“May I sing?” he asked humorously.
+
+“No; not as you value your life. We have only to listen to the choir.
+Hush, don’t you hear the birds singing the grand spring ‘Te Deum’!”
+
+But after a time she spoke herself.
+
+“Was it all like this on Thursday night—all these delicious scents and
+sights and sounds cast broadcast, for all who passed to enjoy?”
+
+“I expect so. Why?”
+
+The kindliness in the quizzical grey eyes was amazing, as he sat back,
+watching her with covert insistence, instead of the spring glories. How
+the divine spark changes a man for the brief moments when it reigns!
+Banishing utterly Stock Exchange scandals, convenient heiresses,
+exacting parties, the merciless claims of the god Mammon. He might have
+looked just so, years and years ago, before he entered that hard
+service, and buried all his best under layer upon layer of harsh,
+deadening, world-wise grasping. Pity that the best is so frail to
+withstand the onslaught of the demons of power and place—so easily
+overcome and thrust away probably for ever.
+
+“I was up in Holloway. I suppose you know it? And there was a strong
+man dying a helpless invalid, and his sister breaking her heart, and a
+woman from the opposite flat, who said she stood for nothing in the
+world but a letter of the alphabet. And all round was gloom, and murk,
+and shabbiness, and hard, pitiless facts. I came home in the tube, and
+all the passengers seemed to look like lifeless, starved, white-faced
+mummies. They made me feel frightened. I wondered where joy had fled
+to.
+
+“And here, was it just like this all the time?... flowers, and sweet
+scents, and spring, and hopefulness?... And scarcely any one to enjoy
+it all; while those white-faced, vacant mummies were journeying
+foolishly to and fro in that stuffy, detestable tube.”
+
+“You shouldn’t go to such places. What have you to do with Holloway,
+and shabbiness, and starving people? If you belonged to me, I wouldn’t
+let you go.”
+
+“Of course I have to do with them. We all have. But I don’t know what.
+And it frightens me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt frightened before. It
+was like being brought up sharp against a stone wall.”
+
+His lips were suddenly a little stern. Stone walls had to be broken
+down. That was the use of being strong. One was not frightened; one
+just got a battering-ram, and forced a passage through. He would tell
+her soon, but not out here. Not just yet.
+
+“You are forgetting our compact. I’m surprised at you, Hal. I call it a
+slight on the sunshine.”
+
+“Why, so it is!... Avaunt, and leave my mind, Holloway! This day
+belongs to the spring.”
+
+And until they drew up outside the Criterion Grill, she kept her
+spirits high, and gave herself to the joy of the hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+
+When they were half-way through dinner Hal asked, a trifle abruptly:
+
+“Now, what about this piece of news? What does it mean?”
+
+He looked away, unable to meet her candid eyes, and said:
+
+“I will tell you presently.”
+
+“Where? Why not now? Why all this secrecy?”
+
+“Because it is rather a big matter. You have sometimes said you would
+like to see the horns and trophies I brought back from my shooting-trip
+in Canada. Come and see them this evening.”
+
+“At your flat?” doubtfully.
+
+“Yes. Why not?”
+
+Hal knit her forehead and looked perplexed. She had so insistently
+declined to go hitherto, that she was loath now to change her mind. Yet
+she felt it was rather silly to have any fear of him now.
+
+In the end she went.
+
+It was only eight o’clock, and he promised to take her home about nine.
+Besides, something in his manner was baffling her, and she wanted to
+understand how they stood.
+
+Once in the sumptuous, beautifully furnished flat, however, he seemed
+to change. He came up to her suddenly, put his arms round her, and
+kissed her.
+
+“At last,” he breathed. “At last I’ve got you absolutely to myself.”
+
+“Don’t do that.”
+
+Hal disengaged herself and held him at arm’s length. For a moment she
+looked steadily into his eyes, and then she asked:
+
+“How has this report of your engagement got into the papers?” Her lips
+curled a little. “I presume you would hardly act to me like this if it
+is true.”
+
+“It is true in one sense, and not another.”
+
+“Oh...” She seemed a little taken aback. “In what way is it true. Are
+you engaged to Miss Bootes?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Indeed!”
+
+She lifted her eyebrows, and moved a pace or two farther away.
+
+“Don’t move away from me,” he said a little thickly. “It isn’t the part
+that’s true which matters, but the part that is not true.”
+
+“I don’t understand.”
+
+“I brought you here to explain. I can do so very quickly. I am in a
+tight corner. The tightest corner I ever was in my life. Only one thing
+can save me. I must have money. Miss Bootes, or at any rate her father,
+wants a title. I haven’t the shadow of a choice. I have got to sell her
+mine.”
+
+Again Hal’s lips curled, and a little spark of fire shone in her eyes.
+
+“Oh, I can understand all that!” She tossed her head
+half-unconsciously. “But why”—her lips quivered a little—“did you think
+it necessary to insult both of us by, at the same time, becoming
+lover-like to me?”
+
+“I told you why; because I love you.”
+
+He stepped up to her, and caught both her hands in an iron grip.
+
+“Now, listen to me, Hal. Don’t try to break away, for I won’t let you
+go. I tell you it’s a matter of life and death. In your heart you know
+quite well that I love you. You knew it when I kissed you last
+Saturday, and you were glad. I don’t know when you read that
+announcement, but whenever it was, your heart said to you ‘Whether it’s
+true or not, he loves _me_’. Probably you didn’t believe it was true,
+because you knew nothing whatever about the devilish mess I was in. But
+in any case, your heart told you right. I do love you. I love you with
+every bit of me that knows how to love. If I have to be hers in name, I
+am at any rate yours at heart, and shall be all my life. Now, what have
+you to say?”
+
+She tried to drag her hands away, but he gripped them tightly, forcing
+her to feel his strength, his resolve, and his masterfulness.
+
+“I have nothing to say. What should I have? You have elected to sell
+yourself, to let a woman”—with swift scorn—“buy you out of a tight
+corner. I… I…” in a low tense voice, “am sorry we ever met.”
+
+“Why?—”
+
+He hurled the monosyllable at her, now almost crushing her hands in his
+grasp, as he waited, silently compelling her to reply.
+
+“Because the friendship was pleasant. It has meant a good deal. And now
+for it to end like this!… for me to have to scorn you.”
+
+“Why need it end?… Why should you scorn me?… Wouldn’t every second man
+you know in my place act exactly as I am acting? I have no choice. I
+ought not to tell you, but my political chiefs have issued an ultimatum
+to me, and I have got to obey it. Do you suppose I would consider it
+for a moment if I could find any other way out? Do you suppose I would
+risk losing you, would even dream of giving you up, if I were not
+driven to it by the very hell-hounds of circumstance?
+
+“To have felt love at all is the most wonderful thing in my life: I,
+who have always mocked and jeered and disbelieved. Well, anyhow it is
+there now. Listen, Hal. I love you. I love you? _I love you_.”
+
+He tried again to kiss her, but she wrenched at her hands, held in his
+grip.
+
+“Let me go. You… you… to talk of love. You don’t know what it is. Let
+me go… let me go—”
+
+“I won’t. By God, you shan’t speak to me like that. I won’t endure it.”
+
+He was evidently losing control of himself a little, and the sight of
+it steadied her. Behind all her bravado and pluck there was a terrible
+ache. Caught in a mesh of circumstances, she knew she could not
+struggle out without being grievously hurt at heart. She knew that,
+however she loathed his action now, she could not unlove him all in a
+moment.
+
+When he scorched and seared her with his passionate declaration, her
+heart cried out that she wanted him to love her, that she wanted to be
+his. And yet stronger and higher and better than all, was that woman’s
+instinct in her soul which loathed his action and clung wildly in the
+stress of the moment to its own best ideal.
+
+In the swift sense of hopelessness that followed, great tears gathered
+in her eyes, and welled over onto her cheeks. They had an immediate
+effect upon him. He let go her hands.
+
+“Don’t cry, Hal, don’t cry,” he said a little huskily.
+
+“I can’t stand that.”
+
+She brushed the tears away almost angrily, but, ignoring his motion to
+draw up an arm chair, remained standing, straight and slim beside the
+hearth, trying to recover her composure.
+
+Sir Edwin commenced to pace the room. He had succeeded in his scheme so
+far as to get Hal to the flat to discuss the projects in his mind, but
+now that she was there he felt at a loss to proceed. He wished she
+would sit down; he changed his mind and almost wished she would cry;
+standing there, like a soldier on guard, with that direct, fearless
+expression, she disconcerted him, by making him feel mean and paltry
+and small.
+
+And all the time he could not choose but admire her more and more. He
+wished with all his heart in those moments that he could throw his
+position and his party overboard, and go to her with a clean slate, and
+say:
+
+“I have done with serving Mammon. Come to me as my wife, and I will
+serve you instead.”
+
+And instead he had brought her there to say:
+
+“I cannot give up serving Mammon. I must marry the heiress, but let me
+be your lover and I will serve you as well.”
+
+And all the time Hal stood there with those resolute, set lips, as
+erect as a young grenadier.
+
+But all the same he meant to have her if he could, and he remembered of
+old how often he had found a swift, bold attack won. So he stopped
+short beside her, and said:
+
+“You know that whatever circumstances compel me to do, all my heart is
+yours, Hal, and you care a little bit about me. You know you do. Don’t
+condemn me to outer darkness. Come to me like the sensible little woman
+you are. No one will ever know, and I can make your life gayer and
+happier just as long as ever you like.”
+
+She looked at him with a startled, perplexed expression.
+
+“What do you mean?” she asked slowly.
+
+“Now, don’t get angry.”
+
+He laid his hand on her arm, with a caressing touch.
+
+“You’ve knocked about the world too much not to know what I mean. You
+know perfectly well half the girls you know would let themselves be
+persuaded. But that isn’t what I want. I’ve too much respect for your
+strength of character. Come to me because you can be strong enough to
+rise above conventions and because you dare to be a law unto yourself.
+It is the courage I expect of you. Hal, my darling, who is ever to be
+any the wiser if you and I are lovers? Think what I can do for you to
+make life gay and interesting and fresh. Don’t decide in a hurry. If no
+one ever knows, no one need be hurt.”
+
+She moved away from him, and went and stood by the window, looking down
+at the passing lights in St. James’s Street; looking at the lights in
+the windows opposite, looking at the faint light of the stars overhead.
+
+It was characteristic of her that she did not grow angry and indignant;
+nor, in a theatrical spirit, immediately attempt to impress him with
+the fact that she was a good, virtuous woman, and that his suggestion
+filled her with horror. Her knowledge of life was too wide, her
+understanding too deep.
+
+She knew that to such a man as he a proposal of this kind did not
+present any shocking aspect whatever. When he said, “Be a sensible
+little woman,” he meant it to the letter. He actually believed she
+would show common sense in yielding to him, and taking what joy out of
+life she could.
+
+But, unfortunately for the world in general, it is not only the
+horror-struck, conventional, shocked women who resolutely turn their
+eyes from the primrose path. There are plenty of large-hearted,
+broad-minded women, who, seeing the world as it is, instead of how the
+idealists would have it, are content to go on their own strong way,
+fighting their own battle for themselves without saying anything, and
+without judging the actions of others, content in striving to live up
+to their own best selves.
+
+Hal was one of these. If another girl in her place had yielded to the
+alluring prospect of possessing such an interesting lover as Sir Edwin,
+to brighten the commonplace, daily round, she would not have blamed
+her, she would have tried not to judge her.
+
+But she would have been sorry for her in many ways, knowing how apt the
+primrose path is to turn suddenly to thorns and stones; and in an hour
+of need she would have stood by her if she could.
+
+But the fact of possessing these wide sympathies did not lessen any
+obligation she felt to herself. It was her creed to “play the game” as
+far as in her lay, and according to her own definition.
+
+That definition did not admit of any irregularity of this kind. It
+called, instead, sternly and insistently for absolute denial. It told
+her now, without the smallest shadow of doubt, that from tonight she
+must never see Sir Edwin again. She must take whatever interest he had
+brought out of her life, and go back to the old, monotonous round.
+
+It was useless to question or reason. The decree was there in her own
+heart. The insistent call to keep her colours flying high, as she
+fought her way through the pitfalls of life to the Highest and Best.
+
+As she paced the room behind her, disclosing a carefully thought-out
+plan, now pleading, now expostulating, she heard him rather as one afar
+off.
+
+The plan did not matter one way or another. If she could have let
+herself go at all she would not have troubled about plans. His pleading
+and expostulating she scarcely heard.
+
+She was looking out at all the lights, and her mind was grappling with
+problems. How harsh the glare of the streets appeared tonight. How far,
+far away the pin points that were stars. Hal liked a city.
+
+Constellations hanging like great lamps in wonderful, wilderness skies
+would have wearied her quickly. She loved people, and she liked them
+all about her. But tonight she felt suddenly very near to the dark,
+shadowy side of life—very far from the stars of light.
+
+She glanced up at the pin points a little wistfully. If perhaps they
+were nearer with their message of high striving; if perhaps the glare
+at hand were less harsh, there might be so much more steadfast courage
+in the world; so much less weak acceptance of conditions that led to
+pain and misery and disaster.
+
+At last he stood beside her, and implored her to tell him, once for
+all, that she would yield and come.
+
+But when he saw into the clear depths of her eyes, he knew his hopes
+were vain.
+
+Suddenly, with swift self-distrust, his mood softened.
+
+“I suppose I’ve shocked you past forgiveness now,” he said miserably.
+“You’ll think I’ve been a brute to you, and you’ll never forget it.”
+
+“No; I shan’t think that; but I should like to go home at once.”
+
+“But surely that is not your last word!”
+
+“What else is there so say? I... I... can’t do that sort of thing. That
+is all. From today you must go your way, and I must go mine. It is
+useless to discuss it. Let me go home.”
+
+“But you can’t mean it,” he cried. “Surely we are not to part like
+this.”
+
+She had moved back into the room now, and was pulling on her gloves.
+
+“What else can we do?”
+
+“But you care for me, Hal. You can’t deny it. You do care a little;
+don’t you?”
+
+She looked into his eyes without a tremor, but with a pain at the back
+of hers that made him flinch.
+
+“Yes, I care,” she said very quietly.
+
+“Ah!”
+
+Suddenly he sat down, and buried his face in his arms on the table.
+Every good, honest trait he possessed called to him to throw “Mammon”
+to the winds, and make her happy. Let the party take care of itself. It
+was not for his nobility of character they had taken him into the
+Cabinet. Let his creditors do their worst—a strong man could win
+through anything. But the mood did not last. There was not enough room
+in that India rubber heart for it to expand and grow. It died for want
+of breathing-space.
+
+“If you care, why can’t you have the courage to come to me?” he asked a
+little fiercely.
+
+“Because I have the courage to stay away.”
+
+And he knew—hardened sinner that he was—that she named the greater
+courage.
+
+But his goaded feelings called to him, and drove him, making him mad
+with the knowledge he must lose her.
+
+“Heroics!…” he said—“heroics!… Don’t talk like a bread-and-butter miss,
+Hal. It is unthinkable of you.”
+
+He got up from his chair and took a step towards her, but stood
+irresolute—daunted by the calm strength in her face.
+
+“The world is too old for heroics any more. Every one laughs at them.
+Where is the politician today who cares tuppence for anything but the
+main chance? We blazon our way into office, and we blazon louder still
+to keep there. It is the spirit of the age. The strong man takes what
+he wants, and holds it by right of his strength. In primeval times we
+used fists and clubs. Now we hit with brains and words or hard cash.
+That is all the difference. The strong man is still the one who takes
+what he wants, and keeps it. And I want you, Hal. It is mere
+feebleness—childishness—to be thwarted by convention and circumstance.
+Hoodwink convention, and stamp on circumstance. Go through stone walls
+with a battering-ram. As long as the world doesn’t know—who cares?
+Those are my sentiments. They have been for years. When I want a thing,
+I go for it bald-headed, and take it.”
+
+He drew nearer boldly, refusing to be daunted, putting all his strength
+and determination against hers.
+
+“And I want you, Hal. Do you understand? Don’t be a little fool. Come.”
+
+She backed away from him towards the door.
+
+“I understand well enough,” she said quietly, “and I shall never see
+you again if I can help it. All that you say does not appeal to me in
+the least. I am not a politician—thank God—and I am still old-fashioned
+enough to possess an ideal. I am going now. Good-bye.”
+
+But when he saw she was already in the little hall, a wave of fierce
+desire seemed to catch him by the throat.
+
+“Not yet,” he exclaimed hoarsely: “Not yet… I care and you care—you
+cannot go yet—”
+
+But before he reached her, she had slipped through the front door, and
+shut it behind her, and run down the stairs out into the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+
+All through the next day, while motoring with her cousin Dick Bruce,
+Hal made a valiant effort to appear exactly as usual; but all the fresh
+spring countryside now seemed to mock her with its sudden emptiness,
+and the very engine of the motor throbbed out to her that something had
+gone from her life which would not come back any more.
+
+She chatted away to Dick manfully, about all manner of things, but in
+the pauses of their chatter she was silent and still in a manner quite
+unlike her old self—reattending with a start, and sometimes so distrait
+she did not hear when he spoke to her.
+
+After a time Dick began to notice, and then purposely to watch, and
+finally he perceived all her gaiety was forced, and sometimes was
+weighing heavily on her mind.
+
+It was useless to say anything while they motored, so he gave all his
+attention to his driving, and purposely allowed the conversation to
+drop.
+
+When they returned to Bloomsbury he went in to supper with her, as was
+his habit, and, as he hoped, Dudley was away up at Holloway. It was not
+until they had finished their meal, and the landlady had cleared away,
+that he attacked the subject; then, with characteristic directness, he
+said:
+
+“Now, Hal, what’s the matter?”
+
+“The matter?…” in surprise. “What can you mean, Dick? Why should
+anything be the matter?”
+
+She tried to meet his eyes frankly, but before the searching inquiry in
+them her gaze dropped to the fire.
+
+“Something is the matter, Hal. Just as if I shouldn’t know.”
+
+She was thoughtful a moment or two, thinking how best to put him off
+the right scent; then with overpowering suddenness came the
+recollection of all the pleasure and interest and delight the lost
+friendship had stood for, and her eyes filled with tears. It was
+useless to attempt to hide them, so she contrived to say as steadily as
+possible:
+
+“I am a bit down on my luck about something; but it’s nothing to worry
+about. Don’t take any notice; there’s a dear boy. I shall soon forget.”
+
+“But why shouldn’t I take any notice? Don’t be a goose, Hal. Tell me
+what’s the matter.”
+
+She was silent, and after a pause he added:
+
+“I suppose it is Sir Edwin?”
+
+Hal felt it useless to prevaricate, and so she said, with assumed
+lightness:
+
+“Well, it has been a little sudden, and we had some jolly times
+together.”
+
+“Then he is engaged?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+She told him briefly why. Dick watched her with a question in his eyes.
+
+“Did he deliberately get engaged to the other girl, knowing he cared
+for you?” he asked.
+
+Hal tried to lie.
+
+“Oh, there was nothing of that sort between him and me. We were just
+good pals. But of course it can’t go on the same.”
+
+“You’re not a clever liar, Hal,” he said, with a little smile.
+
+She coloured and bit her lip, with an uneasy laugh. Then the tears
+shone again.
+
+“Better tell me about it. Perhaps I can lend a hand to get through
+with.”
+
+Hal placed her hands on the mantelshelf, and leaned her forehead down
+on them.
+
+“Tell me something funny, Dick, or I shall howl in a few seconds. Don’t
+be serious. Be idiotic. Have the carrots and turnips decided which take
+precedence yet? Is her ladyship, the onion, weeping upon the cabbage’s
+lordly bosom? Are the babies talking philosophy over their bottles? For
+Heaven’s sake, Dick, be idiotic, and make me laugh.”
+
+“I think it would do you more good to cry.”
+
+“Oh, no, no: I hate to cry. Do help me not to.”
+
+But Dick understood the relief it was to a woman to have it out, and he
+just sat down in Dudley’s big arm chair, and reached the favourite
+footstool for Hal.
+
+“Sit on the stool of confessional, and I’ll make you laugh later on. If
+you don’t cry now, you will when I’ve gone.”
+
+Hal sat on the footstool, and leaning against his knee, cried quietly
+for several minutes. He played with an unruly strand of hair until she
+dried her eyes, and then said:
+
+“When we were kids, you always told me when things went wrong with you.
+Tell me all about it now.”
+
+“I left off being a kid about a month ago. I’m ancient history now”;
+and she tried to smile through her tears.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Oh, just because—” and then her voice broke suddenly.
+
+“I suppose Sir Edwin was in love with you?”
+
+She did not reply.
+
+“And he was obliged to marry the other woman for the money.”
+
+He was thoughtful for some moments, and then added:
+
+“All the same, when a man like that goes so far as to love a woman,
+which must be a pretty novel experience for him, he doesn’t let her go
+lightly. He won’t let you go lightly, Hal.”
+
+“I shall not see him again.”
+
+“Has it come to that already?”
+
+“It had to. There was no other course.”
+
+“It sounds rather sudden and drastic.” He watched her keenly. “A man
+like that would try to get both of you. Did he try, Hal?”
+
+The hot blood rushed to her face, and she turned her head away.
+
+“Well, he would think it the obvious, sensible course, I suppose, and
+perhaps a good many women would, too. What did you think, Hal?”
+
+“I didn’t think. I hurried away. I shall not see him any more at all.”
+
+He looked at her with a light in his eyes.
+
+“Bravo,” he said; and there was a low thrill in his voice. “He’ll think
+the world more of you, Hal.”
+
+“I’m not sure; anyhow, it doesn’t help very much.”
+
+“Then you wanted to go.”
+
+She stared into the fire and was silent.
+
+“I see,” he said simply. “You are one of the women who would have
+dared, only… of course I knew you wouldn’t, Hal. And, if you had, I
+shouldn’t have been the one to blame you.”
+
+“Yes,” she told him, still staring at the fire. “I could have dared
+under some circumstance. But not these. Never under pretty, ignoble
+ones. I think that all makes it worse. There were two Sir Edwins. There
+was one I knew, and another the world knew. It was the other that
+triumphed. Mine will never come back. It is all finished.”
+
+She bowed her head down on her arms.
+
+“Oh, Dick,” she said. “I shall miss him badly.”
+
+“But I’m glad you let him go, Hal.” He spoke in a quiet voice full of
+feeling. “Most men are pretty casual and indifferent nowadays, and we
+often say we like a woman to be broad-minded, and daring, and all that;
+but, by Jove! when we know she’s straight as a die, without being a
+prude, we’re ready to kneel down to her.
+
+“Stand to your guns, Hal. I... I... want to go on knowing that you are
+among those one wants to kneel down to. If he is very persistent and
+persevering, and it gets harder, I dare say I can help. You can always
+’phone me at a moment’s notice, and I shall consider myself at your
+beck and call.”
+
+“You are a dear, Dick, but I shall not see him. He can only wait for me
+at the office, and I shall go out the back way.”
+
+“Still, if you’re rather lost there are lots of things we might do to
+fill up the time. I’ve been going down East with Quin lately. It’s
+awfully interesting. Especially with him—he’s so splendid with the most
+hopeless characters. There’s a sing-song at one of the clubs on
+Wednesday eve. Come down with us. You’ll see Quin at his very best.”
+
+“I’d love to come. Will you fetch me?”
+
+“I’ll fetch you from the office, and we’ll have a sort of meat-tea meal
+at the Cheshire Cheese. Perhaps Quin will join us.”
+
+So they sat on and talked in the firelight till it was time for Dick to
+go; and all the time Hal was unconsciously drawing strength and
+resolution from him for the fight that lay ahead of her.
+
+Many years ago when she broke her dolls he had tried to mend them and
+comfort her. And now, because he was a simple, manly gentleman, blessed
+with the precious gift of understanding—when she was feeling
+heart-broken he tried with all the old, generous affection to help to
+heal the wound, and bring her consolation.
+
+And away on the southern shore, where a little fishing-village nestled
+in the cliffs, and a creeper-covered hotel awaited sleepily the coming
+of the summer and the summer visitors, Lorraine came to what she deemed
+her hour—the one great hour left—and, as a drowning man, caught at her
+straw. Two long perfect days they had spent on the sea, with an old
+fisherman, full of anecdote, and his young grandson to sail the boat.
+
+Then came the dreamy twilight hour, and their utter loneness; and
+Alymer, with the strong, swift blood in his veins, and the strong lust
+of life in his heart, lost himself, as she meant that he should, in the
+intoxicating atmosphere of her charm and fascination.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+
+When Hal and her cousin emerged from the office the following Wednesday
+evening, the first thing Hal saw was Sir Edwin’s motor, and Sir Edwin
+himself standing waiting for her. A disengaged taxi was just moving
+off, having deposited a fare, and instantly, without a word to Dick,
+she sprang into it. Dick gave a sharp glance round and followed her.
+
+“Tell him where to go,” she said.
+
+He directed the chauffeur, and then looked anxiously into her face. She
+had turned very pale, and seemed for the moment overcome.
+
+“Sir Edwin’s motor?” he asked, and she nodded.
+
+“Shall I call for you every day?” he said at once.
+
+“No. He can’t possibly see me if I go out the other way.” Then she
+added: “He won’t go on for long. He was there yesterday, but he did not
+see me; and after today I dare say he will give it up.”
+
+Finally she added, with an effort:
+
+“I heard this morning the wedding is already fixed for June. It’s to be
+one of the weddings of the season”; and her lips curled somewhat.
+
+“I’m more sorry for her than for you, Hal,” he said quietly. “You’ve a
+lot of splendid years before you yet. Heaven only knows what’s ahead of
+her. I doubt he’ll not give her much beside his name for his share of
+the bargain.”
+
+She made no comment, leaning back in her corner, white and tired. It
+was difficult to imagine anything ever being splendid again just then;
+or any man ever seeming other than tame, after Sir Edwin’s clever,
+virile, interesting personality.
+
+But Dick had judged wisely in suggesting the trip down East. Anything
+West would merely have recalled painful memories. The East of London
+was new to her, and could not fail to be interesting to any one with
+Hal’s love of her fellows.
+
+They went to a large parish hall, where Quin was in charge for a social
+evening of dancing and music. Factory girls were there in all their
+tawdry finery to dance; rough, boisterous youths mostly made fun of
+them; tired, white-faced, over-worked middle-aged women sat round the
+walls, laughing weakly, but forgetting the drudgery for a little while.
+At one end of the room older men sat and smoked, and looked at
+illustrated periodicals.
+
+Hal entered with Quin and Dick on either side of her, and was
+immediately accosted by a young lady, with a longer and straighter
+feather than most of them, with the remark:
+
+“Hullo, miss!… which of ’em’s yer sweet’eart?”
+
+A burst of laughter greeted this sally, but Hal, not in the least
+disconcerted, replied:
+
+“Why, both, of course… I’ll be bound you’ve had two at a time often
+enough.”
+
+The repartee delighted all within hearing, and from that moment Hal was
+a brilliant succes at the social evenings. She only wondered she had
+never thought to go before; but perhaps no other moment would have been
+just so propitious.
+
+The sudden blank in her life craved some interest that was entirely
+new, and made her more ready to receive fresh impressions and create
+fresh occupations. She quickly found real pleasure in teaching the
+girls to dance properly, in listening to their outspoken humour, and
+soon developed an interest in their varied and vigorous personalities.
+
+As she and Dick went home together that evening he noted joyfully that
+a little colour had come back to her face, and there was once more a
+genuine gleam in her eyes.
+
+“You liked it?” he asked.
+
+“Immensely.”
+
+“It grows on one. You’ll like it better still yet. Alymer and I have
+always rather laughed at Quin, and regarded him as a crank. But he’s
+not. It’s just that he loves humanity, and he gets quite close up to
+the core of it down there, even if it is half-smothered in vice and
+dirt. I don’t believe he’ll ever take orders. It’s partly because he’s
+not a clergyman, and they know it, he’s such a success. Tonight, for
+instance, there was a big bullying chap trying to spoil all the fun for
+the men who wanted to smoke peacefully and look at the books. Quin
+remonstrated, and he turned round and swore violently at him. To my
+surprise, Quin, if anything, outdid him. I wouldn’t have believed Quin
+could swear like that. I’m sure I couldn’t myself. The chap just looked
+at him, and tried another oath or two doubtfully. And Quin said:
+
+“Go on if you like, I’m not nearly through yet. I can’t be a blank,
+blank, blank bully, and I don’t want to be—it’s nothing to be proud of;
+but I’m as much of a man as you any day.”
+
+“The other chaps laughed then, and the brute slunk off to the other
+side of the room.”
+
+“I asked Quin about it later, and he said:
+
+“‘Oh well, you’ve got to talk to them in their own language, or they
+don’t listen. That’s the best of not being a clergyman. Of course one
+couldn’t very well curse and swear then. But it’s the way to manage
+them. That chap will come to heel in an evening or two, and be
+reasonably quiet.’
+
+“You hit the right note straight off, Hal. Quin was awfully pleased.
+Talk to them on their own level first, and presently you’ll be getting
+them struggling up to yours almost without knowing it. He’s frightfully
+keen for you to go again.”
+
+“I’m going every Wednesday,” she said, “and other times as well.”
+
+They parted at the door, and Hal went in alone.
+
+The moment she stood in the sitting-room she knew that something had
+happened. Dudley was sitting in his big chair by the fire, holding
+neither book nor paper, gazing silently at the flames.
+
+At the table she stood still.
+
+“What’s the matter, Dudley?… What has happened?”
+
+There were a few moments’ silence, then, scarcely looking round, he
+replied:
+
+“She’s gone. Run away with another man.”
+
+“Gone!…” she echoed. “Gone… with another man! … Do you mean Doris?”
+
+“Yes. She was married at a Registry Office this morning. A messenger
+boy took the letter up this evening, after they had left for the
+Continent.”
+
+Hal sat down. It was so violently sudden she felt stunned. After a
+moment Dudley got up and moved aimlessly about the room.
+
+“It’s no use attempting to say anything, Hal. There’s nothing to say.
+Of course I know you’re sorry, and all that, but I’d rather you didn’t
+say it. You never liked the engagement, and you never liked Doris.
+Probably you were justified, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me
+now.”
+
+“Who has she gone with?”
+
+“I believe he’s a South African millionaire.”
+
+“Ah!—”
+
+“You had heard of him?…” sharply.
+
+“Only last week, from the tenant opposite. She did not know I was your
+sister, and said something about Doris having two young men, and one of
+them was a South African millionaire.”
+
+He made no comment, but continued his aimless walk.
+
+“What about Ethel and Basil?” she could not help asking.
+
+“They are terribly upset. As soon as I had been shown the letter I went
+out to make inquiries. Ethel could not rest for fear everything was not
+square. She wanted to go off after her at once. But it’s all correct. I
+saw the Registrar. They were properly married, and they left for Dover
+at eleven, bound for Paris.”
+
+“What in the world will become of Basil?”
+
+He winced visibly. Doris’s flagrant selfishness to Basil hurt almost
+more than her faithlessness to himself.
+
+“She stated in the letter that her husband was allowing her a thousand
+a year for herself, and she was prepared to pay a housekeeper to look
+after Basil and the flat.”
+
+“Little beast,” Hal breathed under her breath. “What are they going to
+do?” she said aloud.
+
+“The tenant opposite insists upon taking Doris’s place. She was sitting
+with him when Ethel got home, and the letter arrived about the same
+time. Nothing else will satisfy her. She is going to be with him all
+day, and only teach in the evenings after Ethel has got back.”
+
+“How splendid of her!” involuntarily.
+
+“She hardly seems the kind of person Basil would like, but he appeared
+quite pleased. It may have been a little quixotism. All he said was:
+
+“What in the world should we have done without you, G; and there! only
+a few weeks ago you were wishing you had not been born.”
+
+“How like Basil. All gratitude and understanding as usual. But it must
+have hit him rather hard, Dudley. Is he all right?”
+
+“I don’t know.” The gloom on Dudley’s face deepened. “I thought he
+looked very ill, but I could not get Ethel to say much. She seemed
+rather to avoid me. I don’t think she likes me.”
+
+Hal was conscious of a little inward smile of gladness. She had guessed
+Ethel’s secret long enough ago, and she knew the power of uncertainty
+and a little thwarting. Dudley would naturally try to break down
+Ethel’s dislike; and perhaps in doing so he would grow to know her
+better.
+
+“I think I must try and get up tomorrow,” was all she said. “Ethel is
+so reserved. She will get ill herself if she broods and frets on the
+top of all her work and anxiety.”
+
+“Will you?” he asked, with some eagerness. “Basil loves to see you; and
+if he is really worse, I shall get Sir John Maitland to go up and see
+him again.”
+
+“Of course I’ll go. We may be able to help them between us.”
+
+She was just going away upstairs to bed, when the forlorness of
+Dudley’s attitude, and the thought of her own sore heart before Dick
+comforted her, made her lay down her hat again and cross the room to
+him.
+
+“Dudley, don’t forget you’ve got me still. I know I’m very trying
+sometimes, but I love you so much more than Doris ever could have.”
+
+She sat on the arm of his chair, and played with the lapel of his coat.
+
+“Don’t forget about me, Dudley. If you are just only miserable, I shall
+be miserable too.”
+
+He looked at her with a sudden greater depth of affection than she had
+ever seen.
+
+“I don’t forget, Hal. If it weren’t for you, what in the world should I
+do now?… It’s no use talking about it, is it? You will understand that;
+but thank God you’re still here with me, and we can go on the same
+again.”
+
+She stooped and kissed him hurriedly, and then left the room, that he
+might not see the tears brimming over in her eyes.
+
+The next morning she rang up Lorraine’s flat, to know if she had come
+back yet. She was rather surprised when Jean her maid answered. It was
+not like Lorraine to go away without her maid.
+
+“You don’t know when to expect her?…” she repeated uncertainly.
+
+“No; Miss Vivian said she might come any day, or she might stay over
+another Sunday. She has the motor with her.”
+
+“Is she far from a station?” Hal asked, contemplating the possibility
+of joining her on Saturday if she had not returned.
+
+“About seven miles, I think. She went down in the car, and is coming
+back in it. I have had one letter, in which she says she is having
+lovely weather, and absolute rest, and feeling much better.”
+
+“That’s good. Well, if she comes back suddenly will you ask her to
+’phone me? I want to see her.”
+
+But neither the next day nor the one after was there any call, and in
+reply to a second query on Saturday, Jean said she had only received a
+wire that morning saying she was staying until Tuesday.
+
+Hal was a little puzzled that she had not been invited down for the
+second weekend, but decided Lorraine must have meant to return and
+changed her mind at the last moment, leaving no time to get a message
+to her.
+
+A later encounter with Dick, however, puzzled her more than ever.
+
+“Old Alymer is taking quite a long holiday,” he said. “We were
+expecting him on Tuesday or Wednesday, but he never turned up. He was
+at the Temple on Thursday, but went away again in the evening.”
+
+“I hope Lorraine isn’t ill?” she said anxiously; “but of course if she
+is, she would have sent for Jean.”
+
+“Is he away with Miss Vivian?” Dick asked in some surprise.
+
+“Yes; I made him go,” loyally. “He had scruples, but really they seemed
+too silly, and Lorraine looked so ill, and he always has the knack of
+cheering her up and doing her good.”
+
+Dick looked at her doubtfully.
+
+“I hope you were wise,” he said; “but they are rather fascinating
+people, you know.”
+
+“Oh, nonsense! Lorraine is quite eleven years older than Alymer, and
+she only likes to look at him.”
+
+Dick had it in his mind to suggest there had been a far greater
+disparity between her and Sir Edwin, but he only said:
+
+“Well, he is good to look at, isn’t he?… and such a dear old chap.
+Nothing seems to spoil him. And of course Miss Vivian has done an awful
+lot for him. If she wanted him to go, he could hardly refuse.”
+
+“That’s just what I said,” with a little note of triumph. “And Jean
+told me Lorraine had said in a letter she was having absolute rest, and
+feeling much better.”
+
+Yet, when Hal was alone she wondered a little again why Lorraine, after
+inviting her for the first Sunday, had said nothing about the second.
+It was quite unusual for her not to go for a weekend when Lorraine was
+at the sea.
+
+She felt suddenly that they wanted to be alone, yet persuaded herself
+it was only because Lorraine had been so tired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+
+Hal’s uneasiness concerning Lorraine and Alymer Hermon was swallowed up
+almost immediately on Lorraine’s return, by a sudden alarming change in
+Basil Hayward. The first time she went to Holloway after Doris’s
+elopement, she saw the decided symptoms of change, and her report to
+Dudley caused the latter once more, on his own responsibility, to
+request Sir John Maitland to pay a visit to the little flat.
+
+Sir John’s report was the reverse of reassuring, and they all felt the
+end was at hand. Dudley went to Holloway nearly every evening, and
+sometimes stayed until the middle of the night, to sit up with the sick
+man.
+
+Hal went from the office in the afternoons, two or three days each
+week. When she was there the tenant from Flat G went home to snatch a
+short rest, in case a bad night lay ahead.
+
+Ethel went quietly on her way, looking as if already a sorrow had
+wrapped her round before which human aid and human sympathy were
+powerless.
+
+She went to the office as usual, and did her usual work, in nervous
+dread from hour to hour lest a telephone call should summon her in
+haste. She scarcely spoke to any one but Hal; and not very much to her;
+but it was evident in a thousand little ways that she liked to have her
+near.
+
+With Dudley a new sort of coldness seemed to have sprung up. He was
+self-conscious ill at ease with her now; anxious to show his sympathy,
+yet made awkward by his self-sown notion that he was antagonistic to
+her. Ethel did not notice it very much. All her thoughts were with
+Basil.
+
+Hal saw it and was troubled. She was afraid the slight misunderstanding
+might grow into a barrier that it would be extremely difficult to break
+down later on. However, she could only watch anxiously at present, and
+try in small ways to smooth out the growing difficulty.
+
+Basil himself was the most consistently cheerful of all. He believed
+that he was near the end of his long martyrdom, and that in another
+sphere he would be given back his health and strength.
+
+He had seemed very worried at first about Doris and Dudley, but
+gradually he became philosophical over it, and hoped the future would
+bring united happiness to Dudley and Ethel. He consigned her to
+Dudley’s care and Hal’s.
+
+To Dudley he merely said:
+
+“I know you’ll always be a good friend to chum. I’m thankful she will
+at least have you.”
+
+Dudley did not say much in reply, but he looked sufficiently unhappy,
+and withal so glad of the service, that it spoke volumes.
+
+To Hal he said:
+
+“Chum is very fond of you, Hal. You’ll keep an eye on her, won’t you?
+Perhaps there is no one else but you who can.”
+
+Quick tears shone in Hal’s eyes.
+
+“Of course I will… two eyes.. I don’t know that I shall let her out of
+my sight at all.”
+
+Other evening, because Dudley was so often at Holloway, Hal went to
+dinner with the Three Graces. Dick often fetched her from the office,
+and they went back together. Now that she had become interested in the
+East End, they had schemes to talk over, and she and Quin were never
+weary of discussing odd characters there, and odd histories, and plans
+for different amusements.
+
+Dick joined in a times, but was very busy with his new book.
+
+Alymer Hermon had grown strangely quiet. At intervals, for the sake of
+old times, he and Hal had sparring matches, but if, as was not very
+usual, he happened to be at home, he was inclined to do little else but
+lounge and smoke, and watch her while presumably reading a paper.
+
+Hal did not notice it particularly. She had many other things on her
+mind just then, and Alymer only filled a very small corner. She was
+glad he was progressing so satisfactorily. He was well started up the
+ladder now, and though he had had no single big chance to distinguish
+himself once for all, it was generally regarded as merely a matter of
+time. She fancied she did not meet him so much at Lorraine’s, but as
+she did not go nearly so often herself, on account of the Holloway
+visits, she could not really know.
+
+But she noticed that Lorraine also was a little different—a little more
+reserved and likewise quieter. She seemed still to be ailing a good
+deal, and to have lost interest in her profession.
+
+Yet she did not seem unhappy. On the contrary, Hal thought her happier
+than usual in an undemonstrative, dreamy sort of way. She was
+interested in the East End social evenings, and on one occasion went
+herself.
+
+She was also interested in Basil Hayward, and motored up with lovely
+flowers for him; but she talked far less of the theatre, and seemed
+indisposed to consider a new part.
+
+“I want a real long rest this summer,” she had said, “free from
+rehearsals and everything.”
+
+In mid-June Sir Edwin was married, with a great deal of display, and
+much paragraphing of newspapers. The day before the wedding, Hal
+received a beautiful gold watch and chain from him.
+
+“Do not be angry, and do not send it back,” he wrote. “Keep it and wear
+it in memory of some one who was known to you only, and who has since
+died. To me, it is like honouring the memory of my best self if I can
+persuade you thus to perpetuate it. Good-bye, Little Girl; and God
+bless you.”
+
+Hal kept the watch and wore it, and the only one who demurred was
+Alymer Hermon. It was spoken of at the Cromwell Road flat one evening,
+when he was present but taking no part in the conversation. Dick
+admired it, and she told him it had been given to her recently.
+
+Quin was not there, and a moment later Dick was called away to speak to
+some one at the telephone. Alymer looked up at Hal suddenly, with a
+very direct gaze.
+
+“Lorraine told me Sir Edwin gave you the watch the other day. I don’t
+know how you can keep it, much less wear it. You ought to throw it into
+the Thames.”
+
+Hal flushed up angrily.
+
+“Of course I’m interested in your opinion on the matter,” she said,
+“but I had not thought of asking for it.”
+
+Hermon flushed too, but he stood his ground.
+
+“It would be the opinion of most men.”
+
+“‘Most men’ don’t appeal to me in the least. I am quite satisfied with
+my own opinion in this matter.”
+
+“Still, I wish you wouldn’t wear it,” he urged, a little boyishly. “The
+man has shown himself a cad. He was in a tight corner, and he let a
+woman buy him out.”
+
+“And don’t most men take help from a woman at some time or other?”
+
+He winced, but answered sturdily:
+
+“Not monetary help. Besides, he didn’t worry much about getting you
+talked of, did he?”
+
+Hal was just going to make a sarcastic retort, when Dick reappeared,
+and the matter was dropped.
+
+But when she came to think of it afterwards, she could not but be a
+little struck at Alymer’s attitude, and wondered why he had taken so
+much interest in her action.
+
+A few days later Basil Hayward died.
+
+Hal was not there at the time, but Dudley had not come home at all the
+previous night, and she was afraid that his friend was worse. In the
+afternoon she had been detained at the office, and she hardly liked to
+go up to Holloway in the evening without knowing if she was wanted.
+
+So she sat anxiously waiting for Dudley. When at last he arrived he
+looked haggard and worn and ill. Hal stood up when he came in, and
+waited for him to speak.
+
+“It’s all over,” he said, and sank into his chair as if he were
+dead-beat.
+
+Hal’s hart ached with sympathy. She felt instinctively there was more
+here than grief for a friend whose death could only be regarded as a
+merciful release.
+
+She was right. For the last three weeks Dudley and Ethel had been in
+almost daily contact beside the dying man’s bed. Silently, devotedly
+they had served him together.
+
+But while Ethel was occupied only with the sufferer, Dudley, in the
+long night-watches, had seen at last what manner of woman it was he had
+passed by for the pretty, shallow, selfish little sister.
+
+Ever since the elopement, three months ago, he had been changing. It
+had been the bitter blow that had stabbed him awake. In some mysterious
+way new aspects, new ideas, new understanding, began to develop, where
+before had been chiefly a narrow outlook and rigid conformity.
+
+It was though in the fulfilling of her work, Life had harrowed his soul
+with a bitter harrowing, that it might bring forth the better fruit in
+its season. The harrowing had seared and scarred, but already the new
+richness was showing, the new promise of a nobler future.
+
+The All-wise Mother works very much in human life as she does in
+nature—topping off a hope here, and a hope there; ploughing, pruning,
+harrowing the soil and branches of the mind and spirit, that they may
+bring forth rich fruit in due season.
+
+The life that she passes by unheeded, leaving it only to the sunshine
+and wind and rain, often grows little else but rank vegetation, and
+develops rust and mould—never the crops that are life-giving and
+life-sustaining to the world; never the great thoughts, great deeds,
+wide sympathies, that raise mankind to the skies.
+
+But for Dudley the harrowing was not yet finished. Perhaps, indeed, no
+moment of all had been quite so bitter as the sense of his utter
+unworthiness and utter incapability to help Ethel in her hour of direst
+need.
+
+The mere thought unnerved him for the little he might have done. He was
+so imbued with the idea of his helplessness, that he could only stammer
+a few broken sentences she seemed scarcely capable of hearing.
+
+He had but one consolation. Towards the end, the sick man, suddenly
+opening his eyes, looked round for his sister, and seeing she was
+absent, had regarded Dudley with his whole face full of a question.
+
+Dudley leant down to him.
+
+“Yes, old chap,” he asked tenderly. “What is it?”
+
+“Ethel… chum… you will try and help her?”
+
+Then Dudley, with his new understanding, had grasped all that the dying
+man hoped.
+
+“I love her,” he said very simply. “I have been a blind fool, but I am
+awake now. I shall give my life to trying to win her.”
+
+“Oh! thank God… thank God,” Basil whispered. “It is certain to come
+right some day—don’t lose heart. You have made me very happy.”
+
+He sank into stupor after that, and spoke no more, except for a
+whispered “Chum”, just before he died.
+
+Then it was that the full flood of Dudley’s bitterness seemed to close
+in upon him, for his tortured mind translated Ethel’s stunned grief
+into veiled antipathy to his presence; and when there was nothing left
+for him to see to, he went home for Hal.
+
+In his chair, with his head bowed on his hands, Hal thought he had aged
+years in the last three months.
+
+“What shall I do?” she asked. “Shall I go to Ethel?”
+
+“Yes—will you? She doesn’t want me. I feel as if she hated my being
+there now. But if you would go—?”
+
+“It is your imagination, Dudley. Things have all got a little
+topsy-turvy since Doris went, but presently you will see you were
+mistaken. Don’t lose heart too quickly.”
+
+But he refused to be comforted, and merely shook his head in silent
+desolation.
+
+“You’ll stay with her if she wants you?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, I’ll stay”; and she went away to get her hat.
+
+As she mounted the stairs in Holloway, the door of Flat G opened as if
+some one within had been listening for her, and a stealthy head peeped
+out. Then a hand beckoned.
+
+Hal crossed the landing and went inside the door. The poor
+music-teacher’s face was swollen almost past recognition with crying.
+
+“What am I to do?… what am I to do?” she moaned, rocking herself
+backwards and forwards. “There was only one thing in all the world that
+made my life worth living, and now it is gone.”
+
+She sobbed bitterly for a few minutes, softened by Hal’s sympathetic
+presence, then she told her brokenly:
+
+“They’re all mourning. Every single soul in this dreary building.
+Considering he never left the flat, it’s wonderful—wonderful; but he
+knew all the children, and they all knew him. And if you know the
+children you know the fathers and mothers.
+
+“Little Splodgkins, as we always called him, has been sitting like a
+small stone effigy on the stairs outside his door. He has patrolled the
+whole staircase for days, keeping the other children quiet. I told Mr.
+Hayward, and he sent him a message. He said, ‘Tell him to grow up a
+fine man, and fight for his country, and not to forget me before we
+meet again.’ The little chap fought back his tears when I gave him the
+message, and he said: ‘Tell him, I thaid dammit, tho I will.’
+
+“But they’re young, and they’ve got each other, most of the other folks
+here, and I’ve got nothing—nothing. Miss Pritchard, I can’t go on again
+the same—I can’t—I can’t.”
+
+“You must help Miss Hayward, at any rate for a time,” Hal told her; “if
+you didn’t you would be failing him now; and even little Splodgkins
+doesn’t mean to do that.”
+
+“No, of course you’re right. I can light the fire for her in the
+afternoon and put the kettle on. It isn’t much to be alive for, but
+he’d say it was worth while. He’d say, ‘What would she do without a G
+in the alphabet?’ wouldn’t he? I must remember. And now you must go to
+her. It’s worse for her than me, only that she’s still got all her life
+before her, and she’s very attractive, while I never seemed to please
+any one in my life but him.”
+
+“Yes; I must go now,” Hal said; “but I’ll come and see you again. Come
+down east with me next Wednesdayn evening, to a social evening in the
+slums, will you? They’re so interesting. We’ll have tea together first.
+I’ll arrange to take you, and then you’ll meet Dick.”
+
+“Good-bye for the present.”
+
+Then she crossed the landing, wondering with a sinking heart how she
+could ever hope to comfort Ethel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+
+It was not until a spell of exhaustingly hot weather set in in early
+July that Hal saw a still more noticeable frailty in Lorraine.
+
+She was quite unable to act, and spent a great deal of time on her sofa
+near the window, where she could just distinguish the river through the
+trees. It seemed to have a growing fascination for her.
+
+“I’ve always thought,” she told Hal one day, “how I’d like to go away
+from the fret and worry of London, smoothly down the river to a haven
+of sunshine and sea.”
+
+“Why don’t you go, Lorry. Why not go at once, before you get any
+weaker?”
+
+“I think I must. This sultry heat is too much for me, and I’m very
+tired of London and everything belonging to it. I should like to have
+gone to my old haven on the Italian Riviera, but it would be too hot.”
+
+“Why so far?”
+
+Lorraine glanced at Hal with a strange expression in her eyes, as she
+said:
+
+“It is a greater rest to get right away. I shall try some little place
+in Brittany. Switzerland is so overrun with tourists in the summer.”
+
+When she was alone, some of the quiet went out of Lorraine’s face and a
+restless look of pain crept in. She shaded her eyes and gazed long at
+the river.
+
+That old spirit of recklessness, which had caused her to hurl scorn and
+defiance at Mrs. Hermon’s emissary, and afterwards allow Alymer to
+visit her at the little fishing-village, against his wiser judgment,
+had passed away now, and given place to one of poignant questioning—a
+spirit of questioning concerning that mad action of hers, and its
+results. She could not find it in her heart to regret it, not for one
+moment; but nevertheless her mind was sore troubled concerning the
+future for Alymer and herself.
+
+And at the back of all the questioning there sounded ever an insistent
+call to renounce—something above and beyond all desire and all seeming,
+which told her she must not remain in his life, that, as far as she was
+concerned, he must be free for the great work of his future.
+
+And yet how hard it was to go! Ever and anon her longing whispered,
+“Why seek a crisis yet? Why not go on the same a little longer?”
+
+But since, before long, she would be compelled to go, and since the
+nausea of London was gaining upon her, she began to feel it would
+certainly be wiser to start at once, and find some homely, quiet spot
+where she could remain in privacy, with her identity unknown for some
+months.
+
+And always that quiet voice in the background insisted that she must
+cut herself off from Alymer Hermon.
+
+Soon after Hal had left her he came in, and, standing as usual upon the
+hearth, regarded her with grave eyes. He was nearly always grave now,
+as with some recollection that weighed heavily on his mind.
+
+Lorraine tried to rally him, but without much success; and a pitiless
+thought that had sometimes assailed her of late—that he regretted their
+friendship and everything connected with it, struck icily on her heart.
+
+He was too loyal to show it, and yet, that strong instinct of
+womanhood, which reads closed books as if they were spread open to the
+light, sounded its warning note. He would never blame her openly, but
+in his heart he was already beginning to find it a little difficult not
+to do so secretly.
+
+“You can’t go away alone, Lorry,” he said unhappily, “and I can’t
+possibly come with you.”
+
+“Of course you can’t,” cheerfully. “It isn’t to be thought of for a
+moment. I don’t know whether you can even come and see me. You
+certainly mustn’t run any risks just now. Flip tells me Hall is
+interested, and you may get your big chance shortly through him.”
+
+“Still, I shall feel rather a beast.”
+
+“You mustn’t do anything so silly.”
+
+She got up and came and stood near him, leaning her face against his
+arm.
+
+“If you will write to me often, dearie, I shall be all right. If you
+worry I shall be miserable. Try to understand that you have done
+nothing to make me unhappy. A little while ago I had a dream of how I
+longed to go away with a little one of my own, to some quiet spot far
+removed from all I have ever known. If I am to realise my dream, how
+should I not be happy? It is what I asked life to give me.”
+
+But his eyes lost none of their gravity. It was evident, in the midst
+of his dawning success, some cloud had descended upon his horizon, and
+shrouded much of the sunlight.
+
+Lorraine’s sensitive temperament read it quickly, and she decided, for
+his sake, to hasten her departure. She thought her continued presence
+in London under the circumstances was a continual anxiety to him, and
+that he would only breathe freely when she was safe in Brittany.
+
+She did not know—how should she—that after that week’s madness on the
+southern coast there had come rather a terrible revelation to the man
+whom fortune seemed to be smothering with favours.
+
+It had not come all at once. It had been there, or at any rate the gist
+of it, for some time. But when it was present in full force, it had the
+power to make all the adulation, triumph, and hopefulness of his career
+seem but a small thing and of little account, because of one great
+desire beyond his reach.
+
+It came definitely into being during those many evenings Hal spent at
+the Cromwell Road flat, when Dudley was away in Holloway with his
+friend.
+
+It reached a climax of realisation when she openly wore the watch and
+chain Sir Edwin had sent to her. The night he asked her not to wear it,
+and she tautingly refused, saw him, with all his success and favours,
+one of the most perplexed and unhappy men in London.
+
+It was just the waywardness of the little god Love. The fair débutantes
+with money and influence had left him untouched. No older woman but
+Lorraine had disturbed his peace, or appealed to his deepest
+affections.
+
+It was left to Hal, the mocker, the outspoken, the impatient of giant
+inches and splendid head, to awaken his heart to all its richness of
+strong, enduring love.
+
+And what did it mean to her?
+
+The sunshine and the joy might go out of all he was winning and
+achieving, if it might not be won and achieved for her—but what did she
+care—what was she ever likely to care?
+
+Had she not always dealt him laughter and careless scorn where other
+women bowed down? Had she not, over and over, weighed him in the
+balance, in that quiet, direct way of hers, and seen the weak strain
+that had always been there? First the lack of purpose, the idle
+indifference, which, in a different guise, had led up to a memory which
+now tortured his mind—the memory of a mad week; of love that was not
+love, because his whole soul was not given with it—nay, worse, was
+actually given in unconsciousness elsewhere. If she ever knew of that,
+what must her indignation and scorn be then?… Would it not indeed
+separate them for ever?
+
+And even if it did, could it make him unlove her?… Why should it, since
+he had waited no encouragement before he gave her all? If he knew why
+he loved her, it might.
+
+But he did not even know that. It was a thing outside questioning;
+something he seemed to have had no free will about. It was just there—a
+strong, undeniable fact.
+
+Why reason? It did not _need_ reasoning. He loved her. He would always
+love her—simply because she was Hal—and as Hal, to him, was the one
+woman who filled his heart.
+
+No; Lorraine did not know just what fire of repentance and
+self-condemnation and hopeless aching her recklessness had lit for him;
+but it was enough that his gravity grew and deepened, and she believed
+she could lighten it.
+
+She made immediate plans; cancelled her present engagement at
+considerable monetary loss to herself, and almost before any of them
+realised it, had vanished to a little out-of-the-way spot in Brittany,
+alone with Jean.
+
+Hal was quite unhappy that she could not go to her for her own summer
+holiday, but Dick Bruce’s people were taking her to Norway with them,
+and she would not have a day to spare.
+
+She made Alymer promise to run across and see how she was, if possible,
+and then departed without any suspicions or forebodings, with Dudley
+and Dick to join the rest of the party at Hull, whence they were to
+start for the Fiords.
+
+When she returned early in September, Lorraine was still away, and her
+letters gave no hint of returning. Still a little anxious, she sought
+an interview with Alymer, asking him to meet her for tea the following
+day.
+
+The instant they met, Hal saw the change in him, and exclaimed in
+surprise:
+
+“Haven’t you had a holiday? You don’t look very grand.”
+
+Unable to meet her eyes, he turned away towards a small table.
+
+“Oh yes, I’ve had a holiday. I’ve been in France studying the language.
+I can talk like a French froggy now.”
+
+“Then of course, you saw Lorraine?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I wanted to see you about Lorry,” with direct, straight gaze.
+
+He steadied his features with an effort.
+
+“I guessed so.”
+
+“Well, what is the matter with her?”
+
+“Nothing very much. She got thoroughly low I think, and is not pulling
+up very quickly.”
+
+“I don’t understand it,” with puzzled, doubtful eyes. “Lorry is not
+like that. She is quite strong really. She has only once before gone
+under like this, and then it was a mental strain. I wonder if it is
+anything the same again? Did you see much of her?”
+
+“I saw her four or five times.”
+
+“And she didn’t tell you anything?”
+
+“Anything about what?”
+
+“Well—about her husband, for instance. He isn’t worrying her again, is
+he?”
+
+“She did not speak of him at all.”
+
+“Then what is it?… I wish she had not gone so far away. I wish I could
+get to her. Did she say when she might be coming back?”
+
+“Not at present. She likes being there. She does not want to come
+back.”
+
+“That’s what I can’t understand. Something odd seems to have changed
+her. Have you thought so.”
+
+“I don’t think it odd in Lorraine to fancy a long spell of country
+life. She was always loved the country.”
+
+“Not alone,” with decision, “except for a good reason. I feel there is
+a reason now, and I do not know it.”
+
+Suddenly she gave him another direct look.
+
+“You are changed too. You are years older. Is it your advancing
+success, or what? … I don’t say it isn’t becoming,” with a dash of her
+old banter—“but it seems sudden.”
+
+He raised his eyes slowly and looked into her face with an expression
+that in some way hurt her. It was the look of a devoted dog, craving
+forgiveness.
+
+She pushed her cup away impatiently, half laughing and half serious.
+
+“Don’t look at me like that, Baby,” striving blindly to rally him—“you
+make me feel as if I had smacked you.”
+
+He laughed to reassure her, and changed the subject to Norway, trying
+to keep her mind from further questioning concerning himself and
+Lorraine.
+
+After tea she left him to go down to Shoreditch with Dick, first
+meeting him and the forlorn “G” at the Cheshire Cheese for their usual
+high tea.
+
+It had become quite an institution now that “G” should join them, and,
+as Hal had predicted, she and Dick were firm friends. It was the
+brightest spot of the music-teacher’s life since Basil Hayward died,
+and neither of them would have disappointed her for the world if they
+could help it.
+
+Tonight Quin was there also, so Hal was able to get a few words
+privately with Dick.
+
+“What in the world is the matter with Alymer?” she asked. “I had tea
+with him this afternoon. He seems awfully down on his luck.”
+
+“I don’t know what it is,” Dick answered. “He is certainly not very
+gay—yet that last case he won before the Law Courts closed should have
+put him in fine feather for the whole vacation. Did you ask him if
+anything was wrong?”
+
+“Yes; but he would only prevaricate. He has been in France, you know,
+studying the language, and he saw Lorraine, but he says very little
+about her. I wish I had time to go over and see her. Why, in the name
+of goodness, is she not acting this winter?”
+
+But Dick could not help her to any solution, and an accumulation of
+work kept her too busy to brood on the puzzle.
+
+It was at the end of October the shock came.
+
+Hal reached home before Dudley that evening, and found a foreign letter
+awaiting her, written in an unfamiliar handwriting, and bearing the
+post mark of the little village where Lorraine so obstinately remained.
+With an instant sense of apprehension, she tore open the envelope, and
+read its contents with incredulity, amazement, and anxiety struggling
+together in her face.
+
+Then she sat down in the nearest chair with a gasp, and stared blankly
+at the window, as if she could not grasp the import of the bewildering
+news.
+
+The letter was from Jean, partly in French, and partly in English. It
+informed Hal, in somewhat ambiguous phrases, that La Chère Madame was
+very ill, and daily growing weaker, and she, Jean, was very worried and
+unhappy about her. She thought if mademoiselle could possibly get away,
+she should come at once. It then went on to make a statement which took
+Hal’s breath away.
+
+“L’enfant!... l’enfant!...” she repeated in a gasping sort of
+undertone, and stared with bewildered eyes at the window.
+
+What could have happened?... What did it all mean?
+
+Then with a rush all the full significance seemed to come to her.
+Lorraine, ill and alone in that little far-away village, and this
+incomprehensible thing coming upon her; no one but a paid, though
+devoted maid to take care of her; no friend to help her in the
+inevitable hours of dread, and perhaps painful memories and
+apprehensions.
+
+All her quick, warm-hearted sympathy welled up and filled her soul. Of
+course she must go at once, tonight if possible, or early tomorrow.
+
+Yet as she struggled to collect her thoughts and form plans, she was
+conscious of a dumb, nervous cry: “What will Dudley say?... What in the
+world will Dudley say?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+
+He came in while she was still trying to compose herself for the
+struggle she anticipated; and because she had not yet made any headway,
+he saw at once that something alarming had happened.
+
+He glanced at the envelope lying on the table, then at the open letter
+in her hand, and then at her face.
+
+“What is the matter?... Have you had bad news?”
+
+For one dreadful moment, observing the foreign stamp, he thought
+something might have happened to Ethel, who was taking her month’s
+holiday on the Continent. When Hal looked blankly into his face, as if
+quite unable to tell him, he added hurriedly:
+
+“Is your letter about Ethel?... Is she ill?”
+
+“No, it is not Ethel,” Hal answered, noticing, in spite of her
+distress, his unconcealed anxiety. “Some one is ill, but it is not
+Ethel.”
+
+“Is it Lorraine?”
+
+He spoke with quiet, kindly concern now, being reassured concerning the
+swift dread that had sized him.
+
+“Yes,” Hal said nervously. “She is very ill. Dudley, I must go to her
+at once.”
+
+She got up as if she could not bear the strain seated, and moved away
+to the window.
+
+“It’s all rather terrible,” speaking hurriedly; “but don’t... don’t...
+be upset about it. I can’t bear it. I _must_ go, whatever you say, and
+I want you to help me.”
+
+“What is the matter?” He came close to her and tried to see her face.
+“What has happened, Hal?”
+
+“Lorry is in trouble.” She was half crying now; “I have had a letter
+from Jean. She has told me something I did not know. I did not even
+suspect it. But I must go. You will surely see that I must go, Dudley.”
+
+“Tell me what it is,” he said, in a voice so kind, she turned and
+looked into his face, almost in surprise. He met her eyes, and, reading
+all the distress there, he added:
+
+“Don’t be afraid, Hal. I know I was an awful prig a little while ago,
+but... but... it’s not the same since Doris jilted me, and since Basil
+died. I see many things differently now. Tell me Lorraine’s trouble.”
+
+“She is so ill, because if she lives until next December she will have
+a little one. Oh, do you understand, Dudley? She is there all alone,
+because she made a mess of her life and is obliged to hide. I must go
+to her. You will help me, won’t you?”
+
+She glanced at him doubtfully, and then a swift relief seemed to fill
+her face.
+
+“Yes, certainly you must go,” he said gravely; “if Jean says she is ill
+now, I think you should go at once, and see for yourself just how
+things are.”
+
+“Oh, how good of you. I was afraid you would be angry and object.”
+
+He smiled a little sadly.
+
+“I’ve enough money in hand for your ticket. You can catch the early
+boat train, and I’ll send some more by tomorrow’s post. Had you better
+see Mr. Elliott about being absent from the office for a day or two, or
+shall I see him in the morning?”
+
+“He won’t mind. I’ve got everything straight since I came back, and
+Miss White will do my work for a day or two. If you would see him in
+the morning, and just tell him Miss Vivian is very ill and I was sent
+for. He knows what friends we are, and would understand.”
+
+“Very well. Now you must have some dinner, and get to bed, for you will
+have a long, anxious day tomorrow.”
+
+In a sudden rush of feeling, she put her hands on his shoulders and
+kissed him.
+
+“I’m so grateful,” she said, in a quivering voice. “I can’t tell you.
+It has all come upon me as a shock. I had not the faintest suspicion.”
+
+It was not natural to him to be demonstrative, and he only turned away
+with a slight embarrassment, saying:
+
+“I’m sure you hadn’t. But I feel I can trust you now, Hal, to be
+discreet as well as quixotic. Your mission, if one can call it such,
+will need both.”
+
+Then he sought to distract her mind for the present, and while they
+dined he talked of many things to interest her.
+
+“Do you know that Alymer Hermon has just got the chance of his life?”
+he told her, before they rose. “I heard today he is to appear with Hall
+in this big libel case. Sir James Jameson told me at the Club. He said
+Hall had taken a great fancy to him, and if he does really well over
+this case he’s going to take him up. He is very fortunate. Not one man
+in a thousand would get such a chance at his age. I hope he will do
+well; I like him; and if he isn’t a success over this he may never get
+such an opportunity again.”
+
+“When does the case come on?”
+
+“Almost at once, I think, but it probably will not last more than two
+or three days.”
+
+When Hal said good-night to him, she remarked shyly:
+
+“I heard from Ethel last night. She loves the Austrian Tyrol. She said
+she hoped you were better for your trip to Norway.”
+
+His forehead contracted a little, and he did not look up from the book
+he had just opened.
+
+“Is she better herself? Is she any happier?”
+
+Hal looked thoughtfully into the fire.
+
+“I think she is very lonely. I don’t think she will be much happier
+until... until... there is some one to take Basil’s place.”
+
+“No one can do that.” He spoke a little shortly. “Basil was a hero. I
+do not know how she is ever to love a lesser man.”
+
+“If she loved a man, she would easily see heroic qualities in him. She
+could not love a man who was without them; but that does not mean he
+need actually be a hero by any means.”
+
+She longed to say more, but was diffident of doing greater harm than
+good. At last she ventured:
+
+“I have sometimes thought she has a warm corner in her heart for you,
+Dudley.”
+
+“For me!...” He gave a low, harsh laugh for very misery. “No; she
+despises me. She has done for some time. I’m sorry. I’d change it if I
+could, but it’s too late now.”
+
+Hal moved towards the door.
+
+“It is rather a slur on Ethel to suggest that she could possibly
+despise Basil’s best friend. Don’t let an idea like that take root,
+Dudley. ‘Lookers on see most of the game,’ you know, and what I have
+seen has suggested quite differently. Good-night.”
+
+“Good-night. Try to sleep. I’ll take you to Charing Cross myself.”
+
+The next morning Hal started off alone, to find her way to Lorraine’s
+hiding-place, and give her what comfort of friendship she could.
+
+And all the time she asked herself with harried thoughts, “Who has
+brought this trouble into Lorraine’s life?”
+
+And at the back of her mind was the dread premonition “Was it indeed
+Alymer Hermon?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+
+When Hal first saw her old friend she was almost too shocked for words
+at the swift change in her. Lorraine tried hard to smile cheerfully,
+but she could not hide any longer from herself how seriously ill she
+had grown, and she felt it useless to try and hide it from Hal.
+
+Jean had not told her of the letter, and she knew nothing of Hal’s
+coming until she was actually in the house. When she saw her, she could
+have cried for gladness.
+
+“How good of you, Hal… how good of you!” she breathed, and Hal, on her
+knees by the couch, in an unsteady voice replied:
+
+“Oh, why didn’t you send for me sooner? Why didn’t you let me come here
+instead of going to Norway?”
+
+An hour later she went out to the little post office, and wired to
+London to know if she might remain away for a week.
+
+It was evident Lorraine was very ill indeed and needing the utmost
+care.
+
+During the day she seemed to grow steadily worse, and she could not
+bear Hal out of her sight.
+
+“I don’t know whether you are shocked or not,” she said to her once,
+“but if everything goes all right I shall not regret what I have done
+for one moment. I wanted something more real for the rest of my life
+than I have had in its beginning.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I
+wanted his child to live for.”
+
+With a caressing hand on the sick woman’s, Hal asked in a low voice:
+
+“Why isn’t he here taking care of you now? Where is your child’s
+father?”
+
+A swift surprise passed through Lorraine’s eyes, as if it had not
+occured to her Hal would not know the truth. Then she said, very
+softly, “Alymer.”
+
+“Ah!”
+
+The exclamation seemed wrung from Hal unconsciously, and after it her
+lips grew strangely rigid.
+
+“Hal,” Lorraine said weakly, “I’ve loved Alymer almost ever since I
+first saw him. I swore I would not harm his career, and I have not. I
+will not in future. But the child is his, and I thank God for it. I do
+not believe an illegitimate child with a devoted mother is any worse
+off than the legitimate child with a selfish, unloving one. That there
+is love enough matters the most. What can any child have better than a
+life’s devotion?”
+
+Later on she said:
+
+“This is his great week, Hal. In his last letter he tells me his big
+chance has come at last through Sir Philip Hall. We always hoped it
+would. It is the big libel case, and if Sir Philip chooses he can let
+him take a very prominent part. He will, I am sure of it. He is very
+interested in him, and he has given him this chance on purpose. Flip
+thinks it will lead to a great deal; and of course if so it is splendid
+for him.”
+
+Hal said very little. She was overcome at the revelation Lorraine had
+made, and seemed quite unable to grasp it.
+
+Meanwhile she waited fearfully for the crisis the doctor had told her
+was impending. She was expecting him to call again, and was relieved
+when at last he arrived bringing a pleasant-faced French nurse with
+him.
+
+She relinquished her post then, and waited for him anxiously
+downstairs. When he came he told her he must have another opinion at
+once, and Hal knew that something serious was wrong, and that he feared
+the worst.
+
+The next morning, when she saw Lorraine again, she understood that they
+had saved her life, but probably only for a few days at the most.
+
+Lorraine was almost too weak to speak, but she looked into Hal’s eyes,
+and in her own there was a dumb imploring. Hal leant down and murmured:
+
+“What is it, Lorry?… Do you want Alymer?”
+
+“Yes,” was the faint whisper. “I feel it is the end. I want so much to
+see him once more.”
+
+“I will go to London myself, and fetch him,” Hal said, and a look of
+rest crept into the dying woman’s eyes.
+
+
+So it happened that the day before the great libel case Hal stood in
+Hermon’s chambers, and delivered her message.
+
+It was a tense moment—a moment of warring instincts, warring
+inclinations, conflicting fates. It was surely the very irony of
+ironies, that within sight of his goal, with all this woman had
+manoeuvred to give him almost in his hands, she should be the one to
+step suddenly between him and the realisation of everything his life
+had striven for.
+
+To fail Sir Philip Hall at the eleventh hour, under such circumstance,
+could only mean an irreparable disaster. He would lose, as far as his
+profession was concerned, in every single way. It would strike a blow
+at his progress, from which it might never wholly recover.
+
+No wonder, confronted with the sudden demand life had flung at him, he
+stood stock still, with rigid face, almost overcome by the swift
+sword-thrust of fate, and made no reply.
+
+Since Hal told him, in a few, rather abrupt words, her story, he had
+scarcely looked at her. When she first entered his room so
+unexpectedly, his eyes had searched her face as if he would read
+instantly what she had come for?… what she had learnt?… Before hers,
+his gaze fell.
+
+“I have come from Lorraine,” she said, and he understood that she knew
+all.
+
+A dull red crept over his face and neck, and then died away, leaving
+him of an ashy paleness. He was standing by his desk, and he reached
+out one hand and rested it on some books, gripping the backs of them
+with a grip that made his knuckles stand out like white knots. He did
+not ask Hal to sit down. Commonplace amenities died in the stress of
+the moment.
+
+She stood in the middle of the room, very straight and very still. In a
+close-fitting travelling-dress she looked unusually slim, almost
+boyish, and something about her attitude rather suggested a youthful
+knight, sword in hand, come with vengeance to the Transgressor. Yet,
+even in his shame and stunned perplexity, Hermon lost no shred of
+dignity.
+
+He towered above her, with bend head, rigid, white face, grave,
+downcast eyes, and in spite of every reproach her attitude seemed to
+hurl at him, he yet wore the look of nobility that was his birthright.
+
+“When do you think I should go?” he asked at last, with difficulty.
+
+“We ought to cross tonight.”
+
+“Tonight!—I—I—have a very important case tomorrow. It will not last
+long. It matters a great deal.”
+
+“I know,” was the short, uncompromising answer.
+
+He looked up with a swift glance of inquiry. Then he said quietly:
+
+“Do you know that it may wreck my future to leave London tonight?”
+
+“Yes,” said Hal. “I know.”
+
+“And after all Lorraine did not help me to this hour of success, am I
+to throw away my chance?”
+
+“Lorraine is dying. Her dying wish is to see you once more. Is it
+necessary to discuss anything else?”
+
+Again there was silence between them—silence so intense, so poignant,
+it was like a live thing present in the room. Through the double
+windows came a far-off, muffled sound of the traffic in the Strand, but
+it seemed to have nothing whatever to do with the life of that quiet
+room. It did not disturb the silence, in which one could almost hear
+pulse beats. It belonged to another world.
+
+Once Alymer raised his head and looked hard into her face. In his eyes
+there was an expression of utter hopelessness. She had not spoken any
+word of reproach or scorn, yet everything about her as she stood there
+erect and passionless, and without one grain of sympathy for his
+struggle, told him that, just as far as her natural broadness allowed
+her to condemn any one, she condemned him.
+
+For a moment a sort of savage recklessness seized him. He felt suddenly
+he was stranded high-and-dry on a barren rock, with nothing at all any
+more in his world but his profession. He had lost all hope of ever
+winning Hal, which seemed to be all hope of anything worth having.
+Nothing remained but the hollow interest of a great name, and the lust
+of power. He had it in his mind for those brief, passionate moments,
+because he had lost all else, to insist upon taking his chance.
+
+Even one day’s grace might save him. The trial would perhaps last not
+more than two, but in any case, a wire reaching him in the middle,
+which he could show to Sir Philip, might mean all the difference
+between success and failure. The wire could be worded to hide what was
+truly involved, and the plea of a life-and-death urgency would set him
+free without any awkward questioning.
+
+He glanced up to speak, and once again Hal’s attitude arrested him. She
+looked so young, so fresh, so true, so vaguely splendid, in spite of
+the rigid lips that seemed to have closed down tightly upon all she
+must have suffered in the last forty-eight hours.
+
+She was not looking at him now, but, with her head thrown back a
+little, she gazed silently and fatefully at the clock on his
+mantelpiece.
+
+And something about her called to him, with the calling of the great,
+mysterious things, a calling that shamed and scorned that spirit of
+savage recklessness; that swift, relentless lust of power.
+
+“What is anything in the world,” it seemed to cry, “compared to being
+true to one’s friend; true to one’s word; true to one’s love?”
+
+He saw suddenly that in any case success and triumph would bring him
+little enough to gladden his heart; that whichever way he turned was
+gloom and darkness; that in that gloom a possible ray of light might
+still linger, if he could keep always the consciousness that, at the
+most critical hour of his life, he had rung true.
+
+He raised his eyes suddenly, and straightened himself.
+
+“What time does the next train leave?” he said. “I am coming.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+
+After Hal had left, Lorraine sank into a stupor from weakness, and
+remained thus until towards evening. Then she revived, and seemed to
+comprehend better all that had happened; all that was happening still.
+
+She knew that the child she had dreamed of would never lie in her arms
+and look up at her with Alymer’s eyes. She knew that in the first awful
+moments of realisation, and deathly weakness, her whole soul had so
+craved to see Alymer again that she had asked for him.
+
+A few moments later the stupor had come down upon her exhausted senses,
+and without any further word or thought from her, Hal had gone on her
+errand.
+
+At first, in the darkened room where she had suffered so much, she
+remembered only that very soon Alymer might be with her. And the
+thought, while it quickened her pulses, yet made her feel almost faint
+with the longing for him to come quickly. What if they were delayed,
+and this terrible weakness took her away from him without a last
+meeting.
+
+The thought that death was approaching did not frighten her. She rather
+welcomed it. When she left London in the summer, she had felt that she
+could never go back. She had already fixed in her mind the picture of
+the quiet haven, where she would live restfully with Alymer’s child—far
+away from the turmoil that had marked her life almost from its earliest
+beginning, and safe from slander.
+
+She did not mind for herself. The things that most women valued, no
+longer held much meaning for her. She had experienced more than most;
+learned more than most how empty success and triumph may become;
+sounded for herself the shallowness of many things that society regards
+as prizes.
+
+She had been tired for a long time. Now the tiredness had reached a
+climax. If the quiet haven might not bless her life, it was, on the
+whole, better that she should die.
+
+This quiet fatalism only increased her longing to see Alymer once more.
+It was the one thing in all existence left to long for. It merged every
+remaining faculty into one desire. And Hal would bring him. Hal never
+failed any one.
+
+Then came the night, and instead of a quiet sleep, restlessness seized
+her. The recollection of the lawsuit which was to make Alymer’s name
+once for all, came back again and again with merciless insistence,
+fighting like some desperate thing that last, one, great desire. Try as
+she would to smother it, after a little period of rest it came back
+stronger than ever.
+
+In vain she told herself that when he knew she was dying he would have
+no wish but to hasten to her. In vain, she said also, that success
+would no longer mean all it had done; that with love crying to him from
+a death-bed, he would understand its emptiness and scorn it.
+
+Another voice, the voice of her truest self, answered: “Ah! but he is
+young. Remember he is young—young—young—and you, when you were his age,
+cared terribly to succeed. You say now that success is empty, but at
+least you had the satisfaction of learning the fact for yourself. You
+did not have to take another’s word for it, and let your chance pass
+you by, just at the moment of grasping it. If he is to be left without
+you, what will he have then to make up for the great moment lost?
+
+“Nay, worse—what will he have left to spur him to try and regain his
+proud position, and go on up the heights of fame? And for you, of all
+people, to deal this blow to his future—the ambitious future which you
+yourself have fostered and nourished with such care.”
+
+The hours wore on, and still, in spite of the awful physical
+exhaustion, the mental battle raged, draining away strength that should
+have been carefully nursed for each bad hour of many days ahead. The
+nurse watched beside her with growing alarm, seeing the feverishness
+and restlessness, where absolute quiet was imperative.
+
+At last she went to her softly, and said, in a sweet, low voice:
+
+“Madame is in trouble. Madame is fretting. It is not good. Madame must
+try to rest.”
+
+Lorraine turned her feverish, pain-driven eyes to the kindly face, with
+a look of beseeching, but she made no reply.
+
+The nurse laid her cool hand on the burning forehead.
+
+“Madame is not a Catholic, but the priest brings healing to all. Shall
+I ask him to come and pray, that peace may be given to the sick mind?”
+
+“I cannot confess,” Lorraine breathed a little gaspingly. “I could not
+bring myself to it.”
+
+“It is not necessary. The priest will come to pray if madame wishes.”
+
+“Yes,” was the low response; “please ask him.”
+
+The little old man who took care of the souls of the little old-world
+village, and had done for three parts of a century, came to her at
+once, with a womanly tenderness in his face. In a low voice he blessed
+her, and then knelt down and prayed quietly.
+
+After a time, some of the anguish died out of Lorraine’s eyes. She
+turned to him weakly and said:
+
+“I am not a Catholic. I do not know if I am anything, but I want to ask
+you something. If one has sinned, and led another astray, might an act
+of renunciation perhaps save that other from the consequences of the
+sin that was not his?”
+
+“Self-sacrifice and renunciation are ever pleasing to God,” he told her
+simply. “He knows that whatever else there is in a heart, with
+self-sacrifice there is also purity and nobility.”
+
+“If I thought I alone need bear the consequences, I think I could do
+anything,” she whispered—“bear anything, renounce anything.”
+
+Again the quiet soothing of a prayer fell on her ears. She listened,
+and heard the old priest praying God and the Holy Virgin to help her to
+find the courage for the sacrifice her heart called for, that if she
+were about to enter the presence of the Most High, she might take with
+her the cleansing of repentance and a self-sacrificing spirit.
+
+She lay still for some little time listening to the soft cadence of his
+voice, and then she opened her eyes and looked at him with a full,
+sweet look.
+
+“I will do it, Father,” she said to him. “Perhaps, if God understands
+everything, He will let my anguish of renunciation absolve that other
+from all sin. It is the most I have to ask of all the powers in heaven
+and earth.”
+
+“The Holy Mother comfort you, my child,” he said; and with an earnest
+benediction left her.
+
+Then Lorraine motioned to the French nurse that she wanted her, and
+gathering all her remaining strength asked for a telegraph form and
+pencil. The nurse supported her in her arms, while with a trembling
+hand she traced faintly the words of her message. It ran:
+
+“Marked change for the better. No need for haste. Come in a few
+days.—LORRAINE.”
+
+
+It was addressed to Alymer Hermon, at The Middle Temple.
+
+“Please take it now at once,” she said. She knew that the Frenchwoman
+could not read English, and that Jean was not yet awake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+
+In Alymer’s room at the Middle Temple he and Hal were making their
+arrangements to catch the next boat.
+
+The moment he had spoken his decision she had turned to him with a
+swift expression of approval, but, for the rest, her manner was
+somewhat curt and business-like, and showed little of the old
+friendliness.
+
+It made him feel that, as far as she was concerned, he had sinned past
+forgiveness; and he knew with that unerring instinct that sometimes
+illumines a wrong action, that she judged him harshly because she knew
+he had not loved Lorraine with all his strength. How then could he ever
+hope to tell her that one reason he had not loved Lorraine thus was
+because, unconsciously, another woman had won his heart; further, that
+that other woman was herself?
+
+No; of course the day would never dawn when he would dare to tell her
+that. An eternity separated them.
+
+But he tried not to think of it now; to remember only that Lorraine,
+his best friend and his benefactress, was dying, and that she had sent
+Hal to fetch him to her side.
+
+His face was very grave, and he looked white and ill as Hal explained
+what time he must meet her at the station, but he gave no sign of
+flinching; no triumph in the world could now weaken his resolution.
+
+“Very well, that is all arranged,” said Hal, and at that moment there
+was a knock at the door. Alymer crossed the room and opened it himself,
+and was handed a telegram. He read it, looked for a moment as if he
+could not grasp it, then, telling the bearer there was no reply, closed
+the door, went back to Hal, and handed it to her without a word.
+
+Hal read, half aloud:
+
+“Marked change for the better. No need for haste. Come in a few
+days.—LORRAINE.”
+
+
+For some moments there was only silence, and then she looked at him
+with troubled, perplexed eyes, and said:
+
+“I don’t quite know what to make of it.”
+
+“Doesn’t it mean that she has passed some crisis and will live?” he
+suggested. “I think it must.”
+
+Hal still looked doubtful; and at that moment there was another knock
+at the door.
+
+Again Alymer opened it himself. “Lord Denton particularly wishes to see
+you,” he was told.
+
+“Show him in at once,” he replied, and turned to tell Hal who was
+coming.
+
+Flip Denton had come to inquire for more detailed news of Lorraine than
+he could get from her letters. He gathered from them that she was
+remaining away for the whole winter theatrical season, because her
+health was bad; but any suggestion on his part to run over to Brittany
+and see her was persistently negatived. Finally he had come to Alymer.
+
+The moment he saw them he knew that something serious was wrong, and
+that it concerned Lorraine. But when, after learning she was very ill,
+he asked Hal what was the matter, and saw the scarlet blood flame into
+her face, he said no more.
+
+“I was with her yesterday,” she told him, “and the doctor said he
+feared she would not live many days. She wanted Alymer, and I came over
+to fetch him.”
+
+“And you are going at once?” Denton asked him, with a curious
+expression in his eyes.
+
+“I have arranged to.”
+
+“Doesn’t your great case come on this afternoon, or tomorrow morning?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Denton’s grave face did not change. “I see,” he said, and turned a
+little aside.
+
+Then Hal, who had the telegram in her hand, held it out to him.
+
+“This has just come.”
+
+He read it, and his face cleared joyously.
+
+“Why, that is splendid news—don’t you think so?” And he regarded Hal
+with a slightly puzzled air.
+
+“I hardly know what to think,” Hal said. “Yesterday she was very ill.”
+
+“Ah, but you had to leave early,” reassuringly, “and she may have been
+gaining strength all the afternoon, and had a very good night. What are
+you going to do?” looking at Alymer.
+
+Alymer looked at Hal, and waited for her decision.
+
+Hal only looked doubtful and troubled.
+
+“I think you should stay for the lawsuit,” Denton said, to help her.
+“It is evident that Lorraine wished it, and she of all people would not
+have Hermon miss such a chance if possible. I understood Hall it was
+only likely to last two or three days. He has some clinching evidence,
+I think.”
+
+“That is so,” Alymer answered gravely; but he still waited to take his
+cue from Hal.
+
+“You think he should stay for it?” Hal asked Lord Denton.
+
+“I certainly think that is what Lorraine would wish him to do.”
+
+“Very well.”
+
+Hal commenced to pull on her gloves as if there were no more to say,
+and then Denton asked her:
+
+“Will you wait too?”
+
+“No; I am going back by the next boat.”
+
+“I will come with you.”
+
+She glanced at him with slight alarm, and then at Alymer. Denton saw
+the look and seemed surprised. Hal’s eyes asked Alymer what they were
+to do. He spoke with an effort.
+
+“I expect Miss Vivian would be glad to see so old and great a friend as
+Lord Denton.”
+
+“Of course she would,” he said decidedly—and to Hal:
+
+“What time do we leave Charing Cross?”
+
+
+Hal spoke very little on the journey. A nameless dread weighed on her
+spirit, and a haunting fear for Lorraine. She was oppressed by a sense
+of deep sadness for the brilliant, succesful woman she had loved since
+her school days, who was now, after all her triumphs, alone in that
+little foreign village, caught in a maze of tangles and perplexities
+which offered no peaceful solution.
+
+She could not understand Alymer’s part at all, but she was convinced
+Lorraine’s absorbing devotion to him was not reciprocated in like
+manner. If Lorraine learnt this as soon as she recovered, what did the
+future hold for her again but more vain dreams, and bitter hopes that
+could never see fulfilment?
+
+She felt a little pitifully that life was very hard and difficult, even
+when one had a fine courage and will to face it; and a leaden pall of
+sorrow seemed to fold itself round her.
+
+What of Dudley and his hopeless love? Ethel and her inconsolable grief?
+Sir Edwin, and his secret bitterness? the gaunt music-teacher and her
+barren, joyless life?
+
+Across her mind passed some lines, that had a strong attraction for
+her:
+
+“So many gods, so many creeds,
+so many paths that wind and wind,
+And just the art of being kind
+Is all the sad world needs.”
+
+
+Ah! in truth it was a sad world first of all; a sad, sad world in need
+of kindness and comfort. One could but go on trying to be kind, trying
+to be strong.
+
+It was the only thing in a life of pitfalls and easily made mistakes,
+to just march straight forward—eyes front—and not let anything daunt
+permanently. She felt, more profoundly than ever, it was not wise to
+turn aside, looking to right and left, questioning overmuch of right
+and wrong, probing into the actions of others.
+
+Each human being was as a soldier in a vast army, and all were there
+under the same colours, led by the same general, to bear, with what
+courage they could, the fortunes of war. Two might be standing
+together, and one be wounded and the other untouched; many disabled,
+and many unhurt; some left on the field to die, others found and nursed
+back to life.
+
+But the soldier was not there to question. If a comrade fell, it was no
+concern of his how he fell—his concern was to try and help him to
+safety, then go back and fight again, undismayed if his place was but a
+little insignificant one in the smoke and dust, unseen by any but a
+near neighbour perhaps as insignificant as himself.
+
+That was the true spirit of the great soldier, whether he was in the
+ranks, lost in the smoke, or whether, on a magnificent charger, he led
+gloriously for all the world to see.
+
+She remembered the change in Dudley, which had led him so quickly to
+respond to her cry, and refrain from judging. He was seeing things in
+that light also, learning to fight his own fight as pluckily as he
+could, and only to look upon the warfare of others as one ready to help
+them if it chanced that he was able—learning in place of rules and
+precepts, “just the art of being kind.”
+
+Well, together perhaps they could help Lorraine—if she came out of this
+last encounter bruised and broken.
+
+Then they arrived, and she and Lord Denton hastened down the short road
+to the little green-shuttered house. At the sound of the latch on the
+gate the door opened quietly, and Jean, with tears streaming down her
+face, came towards them, choking back gasping sobs.
+
+Hal stood still a second, and then ran forward blindly with
+outstretched hands.
+
+“She is better, Jean—say she is better. Oh, she must be, she must; she
+wired yesterday to say there was great improveent.”
+
+Jean broke down into helpless weeping as she sobbed out:
+
+“She died this morning at six o’clock.”
+
+For one moment Hal seemed too stunned to understand; then she swayed,
+and fell heavily into Denton’s arms.
+
+Later when she had recovered, Jean told them of the restless,
+nerve-racking night; of the priest’s visit, and of the fast-ebbing
+strength gathered together to write some message the nurse had taken to
+the post office. After that extreme exhaustion had set in, greatly
+aggravated by the mental stress, and they could only watch her sinking
+from hour to hour.
+
+“She only roused once more,” Jean said, “and that was to try and write
+a message for you. I have it there,” and she produced a little folded
+note.
+
+In faint, tremulous words Hal read:
+
+“Good-bye, darling Hal. It is hard to be without you now, but you will
+inderstand why I sent the message. I want to tell you it has never been
+Alymer’s fault; do not blame him. I ask it of you. At the last hour I
+have made what reparation I could. Don’t grieve for me. I have made so
+many mistakes, and now I am too tired to go on. Give my dear, dear love
+to Alymer, and say good-bye to Flip and mother. I am not unhappy
+now—only very, very tired.
+
+
+“Your own
+“LORRY.”
+
+
+For the first time since she had recovered from her faint, Hal broke
+down, and Jean and Denton went quietly away, knowing it would be better
+for her afterwards, and left her sobbing her heart out over her letter.
+
+Two days later, flying the colours of a great victory, and flushed with
+the pleasure of warm congratulations poured upon him from all sides,
+Alymer Hermon stepped out upon the little station.
+
+He had never doubted the truth of the message, and he carried his head
+a little higher and his shoulders a little squarer, proud and glad to
+come to Lorraine with the news of his greatest success, and tell her of
+the proud position he had won almost solely through her. For had she
+not first imbued him with ambition and the real desire to achieve, and
+then, at exactly the right moment, procured him the first little
+success that meant so much?
+
+The instant he knew the great case was won, he had dashed out of the
+court, scribbled her a hurried wire, and driven frantically to Charing
+Cross, meditating a special train to Dover, if he were too late. He was
+not, though the guard was just about to give the signal for departure,
+and the boat-train bore him from the station, full of that glad
+consciousness of a great achievement, to carry the news instantly to
+her feet.
+
+On the little station in Brittany Denton was waiting for him. And when
+Alymer saw him the light faded out of his eyes, and the smile from his
+lips.
+
+“She died before we got there,” Denton told him. “We daren’t let you
+know, because she sent that message, on purpose to give you your chance
+in the case.” Then, very kindly: “Sit down, old chap. There’s no hurry.
+Wait and rest a while here.”
+
+Alymer sat down on the little wooden station bench, and buried his face
+in his hands.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+
+It would seem sometimes that Life has a way of keeping the balance
+between joy and pain, by making that which is a source of deepest
+sorrow to one the unlooked-for instrument of great joy to another.
+
+It was so with the sorrow that came down like a cloud upon Hal’s
+spirit, while she was yet striving bravely not to allow herself to fret
+over Sir Edwin’s perfidy.
+
+It was not until after Hermon’s arrival that the announcement of
+Lorraine’s death was sent to the papers. After an anxious consultation,
+Hal and Denton had decided she would have expressly wished nothing to
+be done which might bring the news to Alymer before his case was over,
+and so, while making all preparations for the funeral, they refrained
+from any announcement in the home papers. Directly he arrived, the
+notice was dispatched.
+
+Ethel Hayward, returning from her holiday to the dreary, empty Holloway
+flat, read it in the train as she journeyed. Instantly her mind was
+full of Hal. She felt that in losing the one great woman friend of her
+life Hal would seem to have lost mother, sister, and friend in one.
+
+She went home to the emptiness of the flat, with her heart so full of
+aching sympathy that some of the bitterness of her own loss was
+softened. On her sitting-room table was a beautiful array of flowers.
+She looked at them with soft eyes, believing Hal had sent them, and her
+tenderness made her long to hold the girl in her arms and try to bring
+her a little comfort.
+
+After a restless, troubled half-hour, she decided to go to her. She
+remembered it was the evening Dudley usually spent at the Imperial
+Institute, and she thought it almost certain Hal would be alone.
+
+She dreaded going if Dudley was likely to be there, as the constraint
+between them was a misery to her, but she believed he was obliged to be
+out, remembering how he had always been engaged on Fridays during his
+engagement, and she took her courage in her hands for Hal’s sake, and
+went to the Bloomsbury rooms for the first time.
+
+The maid who opened the door was just going out, and being somewhat
+hurried, did not trouble to note whether she asked for Mr. Pritchard or
+Miss Pritchard, merely standing for her to come in, and then showing
+her into the sitting-room without properly announcing her, she hastened
+away.
+
+So Ethel unexpectedly found herself face to face with Dudley, alone.
+
+He was so astonished, that for a moment he seemed unable to rise,
+merely gazing at her with incredulous eyes, as if he thought he must be
+dreaming.
+
+For the past hour he had sat with a book on his knee, without having
+read a line, for all the time his thoughts had been with her. He knew
+she had returned that night to her empty, desolate home. He had sent
+the flowers up himself, to try and mitigate the emptiness and lack of
+welcome.
+
+He had longed to go to the station to meet her, if only to look after
+her luggage and see her safely into a cab. He hated to think of her
+arriving alone, and departing alone to that empty flat. His utter
+helplessness to do anything for her, when all his soul ached to do all,
+tore at his heart, and thrust mercilessly upon him again and again his
+blindness and folly in the past.
+
+And then suddenly, in the midst of it, without any warning, she stood
+there in the room, looking at him with startled, abashed eyes.
+
+No wonder, with a sense of non-comprehension, joy leapt to his own,
+transforming the white, unhappy gravity of his face to swift,
+questioning eagerness; while at the same time he breathed tensely,
+“Ethel!… you!”
+
+It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name, and in spite
+of her confusion she could not fail to hear the ring of gladness, of
+intense, almost unbelievable joy.
+
+It sent the blood rushing to her white cheeks, and made her heart beat
+wildly. She moved forward a little unsteadily.
+
+“I saw about Miss Vivian’s death today, and I was afraid Hal would be
+all alone fretting… so I came to see—”
+
+She broke off. Something like a sudden appeal in his eyes was unnerving
+her.
+
+Dudley only heard vaguely what she said.
+
+As she came forward he had seen that she was rather overcome; he had
+seen the quick scarlet in her face, followed by a striking parlor, and
+the bewildered surprise in her eyes.
+
+What was it Hal had said that evening before she left? He could not
+remember, but he knew it meant that she did not think Ethel indifferent
+to him as he believed.
+
+He knew she had meant more, but he had not dared to dwell upon it.
+
+He stood up, but did not move towards her. Instead, he just stood
+looking, looking into her eyes. Hers fell, and again the quick colour
+came and went.
+
+“Hal is not here,” he said simply; “she went to Miss Vivian last week.”
+
+“Oh, I am glad. I was afraid she had not had time. I thought, when I
+saw the flowers…” An idea seemed to strike her suddenly. She looked at
+him, and her eyes were full of a question she could not ask. “I thought
+only Hal knew I should be returning today.”
+
+“I knew,” he said simply.
+
+“Did you… did you…” she was at a loss to finish.
+
+This hesitating nervousness was new to him. He had never seen her
+before other than calmly self-possessed. It called, with swift-calling,
+to his natural masculine strength and masculine protectiveness. It
+enabled him to grow sure of himself, and strong.
+
+“Yes, I sent the flowers,” he answered. “I wanted badly to come to the
+station to meet you, but I was afraid you might think it an
+impertinence.” He came a little nearer. “Sould you have thought so?”
+
+He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and she said shyly:
+
+“I should have thought it very kind of you.”
+
+“I am always wanting to do things for you,” he said, “and I am always
+afraid I shall only vex you. And I wouldn’t vex you for the world,” in
+a low, fervent voice.
+
+Again she gave him a swift, shy, questioning glance, and he grew bolder
+still.
+
+He came closer, and stood beside her.
+
+“Most of all, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart and
+soul and strength, and, until this moment, I have been afraid that that
+would vex you too.”
+
+She raised her eyes then, swimming in sudden tears of gladness.
+
+“But it doesn’t?…” he said eagerly, “you… you… Oh, Ethel! is it
+possible you would like me to say it?”
+
+“It has been possible a long time, Dudley, but I did not think it would
+ever be said.”
+
+He took her hands in his and kissed first one and then the other. For
+the moment he was too overwhelmed at the suddenness of his joy to
+understand it.
+
+“I thought you despised me,” he breathed. “It did not seem possible you
+could do anything else; but Hal said I was wrong.”
+
+She smiled faintly.
+
+“Yes; Hal knew,” she told him. “I think she has known some time.” Then
+she seemed to sway a little.
+
+“You are tired out,” he exclaimed in quick commiseration. “What a brute
+I am, letting you stand all this time, after your long journey too! I
+have told myself over and over how I would take care of you if I might,
+and this is how I begin! Forgive me—.”
+
+He gently pushed her towards his own big chair, and when she had sunk
+down in it, fetched a cushion and a footstool. She leaned back wearily,
+looking up at him with eyes that were full of deep joy, if not yet
+emancipated from their long, long vigil of sorrow.
+
+“Is this all true, or am I dreaming? Yesterday—an hour ago—I thought it
+could never happen at all.”
+
+“I too.”
+
+He was kneeling on one knee beside her now, holding her hand against
+his face for the comfort of it.
+
+“I was thinking of you when you came. I am always thinking of you. My
+whole life is like a long thought of you. I was afraid it would never
+become any more. Since I grew to know myself better, it has never
+seemed possible any one like you could care for such as I.”
+
+She gave him her other hand confidingly.
+
+“I think I have always cared, Dudley. Beside Basil, there has never
+been any one else who counted very much at all.”
+
+It was good to be sitting there together by a fireside. So good indeed
+that it swept everything away that had stood between them, with swift,
+generous sweeping. There had been nothing real in the barrier, scarcely
+anything that needed explaining, only the foolish imaginings of two
+hearts that had become imbued with wrong impressions.
+
+“I thought I loved Doris,” he told her, still caressing her hand; “but
+afterwards it was like a pale fancy to my love for you.”
+
+“I was terrified lest she should wreck both your lives,” She answered.
+“She cared so much for money, and the things money can buy. Without it,
+she might have grown bitter and hard and reckless. With it, she wil
+grow kinder, I think. She felt Basil’s death very much. She shed the
+most genuine tears she has ever shed in her life. Dudley, if Basil had
+known that this was coming, it would have been a great comfort to him.”
+
+“He did know.”
+
+“He knew!…” in surprise. “How could he?”
+
+“I told him. I saw he was fretting very much about you, and I guessed
+what was in his mind. I told him I loved you better than my life; and
+he said: ‘Thank God, it will all come right some day.’”
+
+“Ah, I am glad that he knew. Dear Basil, dear Basil. If he had been
+less splendid, Dudley, I think I should have taken my own life when he
+died and left me alone. But in the face of courage like his, one could
+not be a coward.”
+
+Later Dudley took her home. At the door he asked her pleadingly:
+
+“May I came in for a moment? I want to see the flat as it looks now.”
+
+She led the way, and they stood together in the little sitting-room
+where Basil had lived and died, and where Dudley’s flowers now shed a
+fragrance of welcome.
+
+She buried her face in the delicate petals, with memories, and
+thoughts, and feelings too deep for words.
+
+“It feels almost as if his spirit were here with us now,” he said
+softly. “He was so sure he was only going to a grander and wider life.
+I think he must have been right; and that tonight he _knows_.”
+
+Tears were in her eyes again. The loss was so recent still—the memory
+so painful. He drew her to him, and kissed them away.
+
+“That night, Ethel, that first, terrible night when you were alone, it
+nearly killed me to have to go away and leave you, to feel I could not
+do anything at all. You must let me comfort you doubly now to make up
+for it. You must come to me quickly.” She smiled softly, and he added:
+“It would have been Basil’s wish, too. He hated the office as much as I
+do. Tell them tomorrow that you’re not coming any more.”
+
+Her smile deepened at his boyishness.
+
+“There are certain hard-and-fast rules to be observed about leaving.
+I’m afraid they won’t waive them for you.”
+
+“Well, tell them you are going to be married… You _are_ going to be
+married, aren’t you?…” for a moment he was almost like Hal. “Well, why
+don’t you answer? I want to know.”
+
+“I haven’t made up my mind sufficiently yet,” with a low, happy laugh.
+
+“Then I must make it up for you.”
+
+His manner changed again to one of wondering, absorbing tenderness. Hal
+had been right, as usual. Under the man’s surface-narrowness and
+superiority was a deep, true heart that had only been waiting the hour
+of its great emancipation. He took her in his arms and kissed her again
+and again.
+
+“Child,” he breathed, “haven’t I waited long enough? Every hour of the
+last few months, since I knew, has been like a year. Don’t make me
+leave you here alone one moment longer than is necessary.”
+
+
+So it happened that when Hal came back to a dreary, empty, joyless
+London, an unexpected gladness was waiting for her.
+
+The last few days had almost broken her spirit. The pathos of that
+lonely, far-off grave, in the little alien churchyard, where they
+tenderly left the remains of the beautiful, brilliant woman who had
+been so much in her life for so long, seemed more than she could bear.
+
+They three had stood together, representing her richness in friendship,
+her poverty in blood ties. The wire to her mother had only brought the
+reply from some one in London that she was travelling in the South of
+Italy, and could not possibly arrive in time.
+
+Alymer still seemed almost stunned. He had scarcely spoken since Danton
+told him what had happened. At first Hal had declined to see him at
+all, but in the end Denton, with his shrewd common sense, had talked
+her into a kindlier mood.
+
+When they came back from the churchyard she had gone to him in the
+little sitting-room, where he sat alone, with bowed head. He stood up
+when she came in, but he did not speak. He waited for her to say what
+she would, with a look of quiet misery in his eyes that touched her
+heart.
+
+For the first time she saw how changed he was. There seemed nothing of
+the old boyishness left. Only a quiet, grave, deeply suffering man.
+
+She had no conception that she, personally, added every hour and every
+moment to that suffering. She did not know he was enduring a bitter
+sense of having lost her for ever, as well as the friend and
+benefactress he had undoubtedly loved very dearly, if not with the same
+passionate love that she had known for him.
+
+But he only stood before her there, very straight and very still, and
+with that old, quiet, ineradicable dignity which never failed him.
+
+“Lorraine left a little written message for me,” she said to him.
+
+She paused a moment, and her eyes wandered away out to the little
+garden, with its last fading summer beauty yielding already to autumn.
+And so she did not see the expression in his fine face when he ventured
+to look at her. She did not know that because of his hopeless love, and
+withal his quiet courage and quiet pain, at that moment he looked even
+more splendidly a man than perhaps he had ever done before.
+
+Had life been kinder, he would have crossed the space between them in
+one step, and folded her in such an embrace as would have lost her slim
+form entirely in his enfolding bigness. He would have given her a love,
+and a lover, such as falls to the lot of but few women.
+
+And she stood there, with her head half turned away; with sad eyes and
+drooping lips that went to his heart; her mind full of her dead friend,
+and scarcely a glance for him.
+
+“She said I was not to blame you for anything, and she told me to give
+you her dear, dear love.”
+
+He winced visibly, but stood his ground.
+
+“Thank you,” he said, in a very low voice.
+
+Then, with a sudden, longing triumphing over all:
+
+“I prefer to take the blame upon myself, but even then I hope some day
+you will find it possible to forgive me.”
+
+“I shall never forget how much Lorraine loved you,” was all the poor
+hope she gave him.
+
+“Will that make it possible for us to remain friends?”
+
+“Yes; I hope so.” She gave him her hand with an old-fashioned
+solemnity. “For Lorraine’s sake,” she said very simply, and then left
+him.
+
+He turned with a stifled groan, and, leaning his elbows on the
+mantelpiece, buried his face in his hands.
+
+Yet in that painful hour, out of all the tragic mistakes of her life,
+Lorraine might have gleaned this gladness. In that hour he was nearer
+than he had ever been before to the man she had striven to make him;
+for, mercifully for all mankind, there is a “power outside ourselves,”
+which out of wrong, and weakness, and pain can bring forth good.
+
+The sad trio returned to London the following day, and Hal wondered
+forlornly if Dudley would leave his office early to come and meet her.
+
+When she stepped out on the platform he and Ethel were standing
+together, looking for her. Then they saw her, and Ethel came forward
+first, holding out both hands, with a subdued light in her face, that
+made Hal pause and wonder.
+
+“How did you know? It was nice of you to come,” she said, with another
+question in her eyes.
+
+“Dudley told me, dear. I have been thinking of you so much.”
+
+Then Dudley stepped up to them, and in his face, too, was this subdued
+gladness.
+
+Hal looked from one to the other.
+
+“Have you?…” she began, and paused uncertainly.
+
+“Yes, dear”; and Ethel blushed charmingly. “I am going to be your
+sister, so I thought you would let me begin at once, and come to meet
+you, and try to comfort you a little.”
+
+“Oh,” said Hal, drawing a deep breath; “and I thought I was never going
+to be glad about anything again.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+
+It is necessary to take but a cursory glance at the events that
+followed. Life flowed smoothly enough in its way, but it flowed towards
+higher and greater achievements for some, and that can only mean a
+story of obstacles, and drawbacks and difficulties sturdily overcome.
+
+For the three inmates of the Cromwell Road flat it held many prizes.
+
+Alymer Hermon’s career continued to advance by leaps and bounds. The
+“taking up” by Sir Philip Hall became quickly an actual fact, and he
+was soon easily first among the juniors. What he lacked in years and
+experience his striking presence and personal charm supplied, and his
+calm gravity and self-possession went far to counteract his youthful
+appearance.
+
+Dick Bruce finished his great novel, and though it was not quite the
+jumble about vegetables and babies he had prophesied, it was considered
+the most original book of the year, and brought him instantaneous
+recognition and fame.
+
+Quin inherited some money, and built a wonderful East End Club House
+that is all his own, and is as the apple of his eye.
+
+If the great solution of life is to find one’s true environment, he has
+at any rate found his; and in finding it knows a happiness, even amid
+the squalid poverty of Shoreditch, such as is found by few.
+
+In the meantime Hal continued to work and be independent. When Ethel
+and Dudley married, they tried hard to persuade her to live with them,
+but she had already bespoken a smaller sitting-room with her old
+landlady, Mrs. Carr, and made up her mind to live there.
+
+Later, when Dudley began to add to his income, they begged her to give
+up her work, but she was obdurate, again expressing certain views on
+the boon of steady occupation they could not gainsay.
+
+“It is so boring sometimes,” Ethel remonstrated, and she answered:
+
+“Not so boring as idleness in the long run, and having to make up your
+mind each day what you are going to do next. The girls who only enjoy
+themselves without work little know what they miss in never waking up
+in the morning to say, ‘Hurray! this is a holiday.’ No! give me my work
+and my play well balanced, and I’ll turn them into happiness.”
+
+It was months before Alymer dared to speak to her of love. It had taken
+him long to win her to the old fooling again; and in a sudden gladness
+at some little remark or touch that seemed to show him he was truly
+forgiven for his own sake, he told her the story of his love, and his
+long waiting.
+
+Hal was very taken aback, and a little unhappy, but when she had
+convinced him it was really quite hopeless, he forced himself back to
+the old comradeship, and took up his self-imposed burden of waiting
+once more.
+
+Then followed a period of rapid successes, during which Hal told him
+seriously he must now make a choice among the bevy of beauty, wealth,
+and lineage at his disposal.
+
+“You really ought, you know,” she said, “out of consideration for all
+the poor things left hoping against hope, and the numbers that are
+yearly added to them!”
+
+“I have made my choice,” he answered; “it is not my fault about the
+vain hopes. It is the obstinacy of one woman, who is keeping the others
+in the unfortunate condition you describe.”
+
+But she only smiled lightly, and put him off again, concluding with:
+
+“I should be frightened out of my life at possessing anything so
+beauteous and attractive in the way of a husband.”
+
+So Hermon worked on, and waited, believing in his star.
+
+Yet there were times when the apparent hopelessness of it weighed
+heavily on his mind—times when the very lustre of his success seemed
+only to mock him, because of that one thing he craved in vain.
+
+It was so when the greatest achievement of his life came to his hands.
+
+It was given him to plead for a woman’s life against a charge of
+poisoning her husband, pitting his youth and slender experience against
+the greatest advocate of the Crown. The case caused a great stir, and
+with a growing wonderment and pride she hardly dared to account for.
+Hal followed the newspaper reports day by day.
+
+The evening before the speech for the defence he came to her. She
+greeted him as usual, saying little about his present notoriety, but
+she noticed that he looked careworn, as if the strain were becoming too
+much for him; and then suddenly he stated his errand.
+
+“I want you to come to the court tomorrow, Hal. I—I—have a feeling I
+want you to be there when I am speaking. Will you come?”
+
+She looked up doubtfully.
+
+“Why do you want me?”
+
+“I hardly know. I mean to save this woman if I can. She did not give
+the poison. I am quite certain of it; but we can’t prove it absolutely.
+We can only appeal in such a way to the jury that they will feel the
+case is not merely not proven against her, but that she is innocent. I
+think it would inspire me more than anything if you were there.” He
+paused, then added: “I love you so much, Hal, I feel as if I shall save
+her life if you are there.”
+
+Hal looked touched, and agreed to go if he would arrange everything,
+and telephone to her what time to arrive.
+
+The next day she went to the court with the card he had given, and
+found herself received with the utmost deference, and ushered at once
+to a seat reserved for her.
+
+A few minutes afterwards Alymer stood up to make his great speech, and
+then Hal heard a subdued murmur around her, and saw that the judge was
+watching him with some interest and expectancy.
+
+It was the first time she had seen him in his wig and gown, in court,
+and her heart began to beat strangely. She felt suddenly and
+unaccountably incensed with the women all round, who whispered and
+gazed. “What was he to them anyway! How idiotic of them to murmur to
+each other how splendid he looked! What did he care for their
+approval?”
+
+Her heart carried her a little farther. “What is he to you?...” it
+asked. She felt a sudden warm glow of pride, and her eyes grew very
+soft as she watched him.
+
+Then he began to speak, and it seemed as if everything in heaven and
+earth has paused to listen. Surely there was no big thoroughfare with
+hurrying multitudes just outside, no continual stream of noisy,
+hurrying traffic; no busy newspaper offices awaiting each flying
+message—nothing anywhere but that crowded hall, that white-faced
+accused woman waiting for death or freedom, that man in his beauty of
+manhood and power straining every nerve to save her.
+
+An hour passed. No one spoke, no one moved. Sometimes a sob, hastily
+stifled, broke the oppresive hush, sometimes a stifled cough.
+
+Alymer rarely raised his voice, for his was no impassioned, heated
+declaration. It was a magnificent piece of quiet oratory, which carried
+every one along by its earnestness and convincing calm, and was
+intensified by the look upon his noble, resolute face.
+
+After a time every one knew instinctively that he had won. The tension
+grew less taut and more emotional. Women began to weep softly and
+restrainedly. Men cleared their throats again and again. Some one
+sitting next to Hal apparently knew him, and knew her.
+
+“My God,” he breathed in her ear, “he’s magnificent. He’s saved her. I
+wouldn’t have missed this for anything. I’m proud to be his friend.”
+
+Hal’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She began to feel dazed and
+faint. It had been too much for her, and the relief was overwhelming.
+
+She thought of Lorraine, and her heart swelled to think he had so
+gloriously fulfilled her vast hopes, and crowned all she had done for
+him. She longed that she might have been there, and then felt
+mysteriously that she not only was there, but was speaking to her. In a
+vague, unreal, mystical way, Lorraine was pleading with her to give him
+his happiness.
+
+She looked again, confusedly, at the big, strong, calm man; and
+something that had been growing in her heart for months took shape and
+form.
+
+What did the other women matter? He was hers—hers—hers. Why stop to
+question or demur? What did anything matter but that he had loved her
+so long and faithfully; and that at last she loved him?
+
+In a stress of unendurable emotion, she got up unsteadily, and left the
+court.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Alymer finished his speech, and sat down
+instantly turning his head to look for her. Instead of the familiar,
+eager face of the first hour, he saw the empty space, and his
+overwrought mind sank to a dull level of bitter disappointment.
+
+She was not impressed, then—not even interested enough to stay until
+the end. Oh, what did it matter? She was hard—hard, he was a fool to
+love her so.
+
+The jury went away and came back with their verdict of “Not guilty.”
+
+There was a rush and buzz of congratulations. He smiled, because he had
+to smile, and grasped outstretched hands because he had to grasp them.
+The moment it was possible to get away, he walked blindly and hurriedly
+to the entrance, and got into a taxi, before the waiting crowd had had
+time to recognise him.
+
+“Where to?” a policeman asked him, and for a moment he was at a loss to
+know. Then he gave Hal’s address. “Better have it out and done with,”
+was his thought. Once for all he would make her tell him if it was
+hopeless, and if she said yes, he would go away and try to forget her
+in another country.
+
+When he was shown into Hal’s little sitting-room, he found her
+crouching on a footstool in the firelight, before the fire. He stood a
+moment or two and looked at her, and then he said in a slightly harsh
+voice:
+
+“I suppose you hurried away because you were bored. I thought you would
+have stayed until the end. I was a fool. Nothing I do ever has
+interested you, or ever will.”
+
+Hal did not look round. She was staring into the flames, with her chin
+resting in her hands. When he paused she said calmly:
+
+“I can’t hear what you say so far away.”
+
+He moved across the room and stood on the hearth beside her, towering
+above her, with his eyes on the opposite wall.
+
+“I don’t know why I came here at all,” he continued; “but it didn’t
+seem any use going anywhere else. Why did you run away in the middle!
+Did you want to punish my presumption for wishing to try and
+distinguish myself before you, as well as save a woman’s life and
+honour?”
+
+A little smile shone in Hal’s eyes, where the firelight caught them.
+
+“I can’t hear what you say, right up there, near the ceiling.”
+
+He looked down at the dark shapely head, and something in her poise and
+in her voice made his heart suddenly begin to thump rather wildly.
+
+“I haven’t got a beanstalk,” she added.
+
+He leaned a little towards her.
+
+“And if you had?” he asked tensely.
+
+“If I had, I would perhaps climb up it.”
+
+He leaned lower still, his heart thumping yet more wildly.
+
+“If you climbed up a ladder like that, you would be bound to climb into
+my arms.”
+
+“Well—and what if I did?” she said.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Winding Paths, by Gertrude Page</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Winding Paths</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Gertrude Page</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 27, 2002 [eBook #5636]<br />
+[Most recently updated: January 29, 2022]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: W. Debeuf</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINDING PATHS ***</div>
+
+<h1>Winding Paths</h1>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">by Gertrude Page</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap35">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap36">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap37">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap38">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap39">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap40">CHAPTER XL.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap41">CHAPTER XLI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap42">CHAPTER XLII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap43">CHAPTER XLIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap44">CHAPTER XLIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap45">CHAPTER XLV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap46">CHAPTER XLVI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p class="letter">
+&ldquo;So many gods, so many creeds,<br/>
+So many paths that wind and wind,<br/>
+And just the art of being kind<br/>
+Is all the sad world needs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>WINDING PATHS</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<p>
+There were several interesting points about Hal Pritchard and Lorraine Vivian,
+but perhaps the most striking was their friendship for each other. From two
+wide-apart extremes they had somehow gravitated together, and commenced at
+boarding-school a friendship which only deepened and strengthened after their
+exit from the wise supervision of the Misses Walton, and their entrance as
+&ldquo;finished&rdquo; young women into the wide area of the world at large.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine went first. She was six years older than Hal, and under ordinary
+circumstances would hardly have been at school with her at all. As it was, she
+went at nineteen because she was not very strong, and sea air was considered
+good for her. She was a sort of parlour-boarder, sent to study languages and
+accomplishments while she inhaled the sea air of Eastgate. Why, among all the
+scholars, who for the most part regarded her as a resplendent, beautifully
+dressed being outside their sphere, she should have quickly developed an ardent
+affection for Hal, the rough-and-ready tomboy, remained a mystery; but far from
+being a passing fancy, it ripened steadily into a deep and lasting attachment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Hal was fifteen, Lorraine left; and it has to be admitted that the
+anxious, motherly hearts of the Misses Walton drew a deep breath of relief, and
+hoped the friendship would now cease, unfed by daily contact and daily mutual
+interests. But there they under-estimated the depth of affection already in the
+hearts of the girls, and their natural loyalty, which scorned a mere question
+of separation, and entered into one another&rsquo;s interests just as eagerly
+as when they were together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Not that they, the Misses Walton, had anything actually against Lorraine,
+beyond the fact that she promised a degree of beauty likely, they felt, coupled
+as it was with a charming wit and a fascinating personality, to open out some
+striking career for her, and possibly become a snare and a temptation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the other hand, Hal was just a homely, nondescript, untidy, riotous type of
+schoolgirl, with a very strong capacity for affection, and an unmanageable
+predilection for scrapes and adventures, that made her more likely to fall
+under the sway of Lorraine, should it promise any chance of excitement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And one had only to view Lorraine among the other &ldquo;young ladies&rdquo; of
+the seminary to fear the worst. Miss Emily Walton would never have admitted it;
+but even she, fondly clinging to the old tradition that the terms
+&ldquo;girls&rdquo; or &ldquo;women&rdquo; are less impressive than
+&ldquo;young ladies&rdquo;, felt somehow that the orthodox nomenclature did not
+successfully fit her two most remarkable pupils. Of course they were ladies by
+birth and education, else they would certainly not have been admitted to so
+select a seminary; but whereas the rest of the pupils might be said more or
+less to study, and improve, and have their being in a milk and biscuit
+atmosphere, Hal and Lorraine were quite uncomfortably more like champagne and
+good, honest, frothing beer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No amount of prunes and prism advice and surroundings seemed to dull the
+sparkle in Lorraine, nor daunt nor suppress fearless, outspoken, unmanageable
+Hal. In separate camps, with a nice little following each, to keep an even
+balance, they might merely have livened the free hours; but as a combination it
+soon became apparent they would waken up the embryo young ladies quite
+alarmingly, and initiate a new atmosphere of gaiety that might become beyond
+the restraining, select influence even of the Misses Walton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The first scare came with the new French mistress, who had a perfect Parisian
+accent, but knew very little English. Of course Lorraine easily divined this,
+and, being something of a French scholar already, she soon won
+Mademoiselle&rsquo;s confidence by one or two charmingly expressed, lucid
+French explanations.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came the translation lesson, and choosing a fable that would specially
+lend itself, she started the class off translating it into an English
+fabrication that convulsed both pupils and mistress. Hal, of course, followed
+suit, and the merriment grew fast and furious after a few positively rowdy
+lessons.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mademoiselle herself gave the fun away at the governesses&rsquo; dinner, a very
+precise and formal meal, which took place at seven o&rsquo;clock, to be
+followed at eight by the pupils&rsquo; supper of bread-and-butter with
+occasional sardines. She related in broken English what an amusing book they
+had to read, repeating a few slang terms, that would certainly not, under any
+circumstances, have been allowed to pass the lips of the young ladies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After that it was deemed advisable Lorraine should translate French alone, and
+Hal be severely admonished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then there was the dreadful affair of the Boys&rsquo; College. It was not
+unusual for them to walk past the school on Sunday afternoons; but it was only
+after Lorraine came that a system was instituted by which, if the four front
+boys all blew their noses as they passed, it was a signal that a note, or
+possibly several, had been slipped under the loose brick at the school
+entrance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Further, it was only Lorraine who could have sent the answers, because none of
+the other girls had an uncle often running down for a breath of sea air, when,
+of course, he needed his dear niece&rsquo;s company. He was certainly a very
+attentive uncle, and a very generous one too, judging by the Buszard&rsquo;s
+cakes and De Brei&rsquo;s chocolates, and Miss Walton could not help eyeing him
+a little askance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then, as Miss Emily said, he was such a very striking,
+distinguished-looking gentleman, people had already been interested to learn he
+had a niece at the Misses Walton&rsquo;s seminary. Besides, one could not
+reasonably object to a relative calling, and he had seemed so devoted to
+Lorraine&rsquo;s handsome mother when they had together brought her to school.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But of course, after the disgraceful episode of the notes that blew into the
+road, the windows had to be dulled at once, so that no one could see the boys
+pass. It was a mercy the thing had been discovered so soon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then shortly after came the breaking-up dances, one for the governesses, when
+the masters from the college were invited, and one the next night for the
+girls, when the remains of the same supper did duty again, and with reference
+to which Miss Walton gently told them she had not been able to ask any of the
+boys from the school, as she was afraid their parents would not approve; she
+hoped they were not disappointed, and that the big girls would dance with the
+little ones, as it pleased them so.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine immediately replied sweetly that none of them cared about dancing with
+boys, and some of the children would be much more amusing. She made herself
+spokeswoman, because Miss Walton had half-unconsciously glanced at her at the
+mere mention of the word boys, fondly believing that the other well-brought-up
+pupils would prefer their room to their company, whereas Lorraine might think
+the party very tame. Her answer was a pleasant surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then, who was to know that the night of the governesses&rsquo; dance she
+had bribed the three girls in the small dormitory to silence, and after some
+half-dozen of them had gone to bed with their night-gowns over their dresses,
+had given the signal to arise directly the dance was in full swing. After that
+they adjourned to the small dormitory and spread out a repast of sweets and
+cakes, to which such of the younger masters as were brave enough to risk
+detection slipped away up the school staircase at intervals, to be more than
+rewarded by Lorraine&rsquo;s inimitable mimicry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There will be no boys for you to dance with, dear girls,&rdquo; she told
+them gently, &ldquo;as your parents might not approve,&rdquo; then added, with
+roguish lights in her splendid eyes: &ldquo;No boys, dear girls, only a few
+masters to supper in the small dormitory.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s misdemeanours were of a less subtle kind. Neither boys nor masters
+interested her particularly as yet; but there were a thousand-and-one other
+ways of livening things up, and she tried them all, sometimes getting off scot
+free, and sometimes finding herself uncomfortably pilloried before the rest of
+the school, to be cross-questioned and severely admonished at great lenght
+before being &ldquo;sent to Coventry&rdquo; for a stated period.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, had she only known it, there were many chicken-hearted girls who envied
+her even her disgrace, for the sake of the dauntless, shining spirit of her
+that nothing ever crushed. And as for being &ldquo;sent to Coventry&rdquo;,
+well, Hal and Lorraine easily coped with that through the twopennyworth system.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If an offender was sent to Coventry, any other girl who spoke to her had to pay
+a fine of twopence, and if either of these two gay spirits found themselves
+doomed to silence, they persuaded such of the others as were &ldquo;game&rdquo;
+enough, to have occasional &ldquo;twopennyworths&rdquo;.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of the two, Hal was far the greater favourite; she was in fact the popular
+idol; for though the girls were full of admiration for Lorraine, and not a
+little proud of her, they were also a little afraid of a wit that could be
+sharp-edged, and perhaps resentful too of that nameless something about her
+striking personality that made them feel their inferiority.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was quite different, and her unfailing spirits, her vigorous championing of
+the oppressed, or scathing denunciation of anything sneaky and mean, made them
+all look up to her, and love her, whether she knew or not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Even the governess felt her compelling attraction, and would often, by a timely
+word, save her from the consequences of some forgetful moment. At the same
+time, the one who warned Miss Walton against the possible ill results of the
+girl&rsquo;s growing love for Lorraine little understood the nature she had to
+deal with.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Hal found herself in the private sanctum, being gently admonished
+concerning a friendship that was thought to be growing too strong, she was
+quick instantly to resent the slur on her chum. She had been sent for
+immediately after &ldquo;evening prep.,&rdquo; and having, as usual, inked her
+fingers generously, and rubbed an ink-smudge across her face, to say nothing of
+really disgracefully tumbled hair, she looked a comical enough object standing
+before the impressive presence of the head mistress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, Hal,&rdquo; Miss Walton remonstrated, &ldquo;can&rsquo;t you
+even keep tidy for an hour in the evening?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not when it&rsquo;s German night,&rdquo; answered outspoken Hal;
+&ldquo;where to put the verbs, and how to split them, makes my hair stand on
+end, and the ink squirm out of the pot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Walton tried to look severe, remarking: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be frivolous
+here, my dear&rdquo;; but, as Hal described it later, &ldquo;she looked as if
+having so often to be sedate was beginning to make her tired.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when she proceeded to explain to Hal that neither she nor her sister were
+easy in their minds about her growing devotion to Lorraine, Hal&rsquo;s
+expressive mouth began to look rather stern, and neither the ink-smudges nor
+the tousled hair could rob her of a certain na&iuml;ve dignity as she asked,
+&ldquo;Are you implying anything against Lorraine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, no, my dear, certainly not,&rdquo; Miss Walton replied, feeling
+slightly at a loss to express herself, &ldquo;but I have never encouraged a
+violent friendship between two girls that is apt to make them hold aloof from
+the others, and be continually in one another&rsquo;s society. And in this
+instance, Lorraine being so much older than you, and of a temperament hardly
+likely to appeal to your brother, as a desirable one in your great
+friend&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not asking Dudley to make her his great friend&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t interrupt me, dear. I am only speaking of what I am
+perfectly aware are your brother&rsquo;s feeling concerning you; and seeing you
+have neither father nor mother, I feel my responsibility and his the
+greater.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what is the matter with Lorraine?&rdquo; Hal cried, growing a little
+exasperated. &ldquo;She is not nearly so frivolous as I am, and works far
+harder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Walton hesitated a little. &ldquo;We feel she is naturally rather
+worldly-minded and ambitious, whereas you&mdash;&rdquo; She paused.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whereas I am a simpleton,&rdquo; suggested Hal, with a mischievous light
+in her eyes. &ldquo;Well, then, dear Miss Walton, how fortunate for me that
+some one clever and briljant is willing to give me her friendship and help to
+lift me out of my slough of simpletondom!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Walton looked up with a reproof on her lips, but it died away, and a new
+expression came into her eyes as she seemed to see something in this unruly
+pupil she had not before suspected. Hal still looked as if a smothered sense of
+injustice might presently explode into hot words; but in the meantime the air
+of dignity stood its ground in spite of smudges and untidiness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Neither spoke for a moment, and then Miss Walton remarked: &ldquo;You do not
+mean to be guided by me in this matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine is my friend,&rdquo; Hal answered. &ldquo;I cannot let myself
+listen to anything that suggests a slur upon her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not even if your brother expressed a wish on the subject?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not ask Dudley to let me choose his friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is quite a different matter. He is fifteen years your
+senior.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was silent. She stood with her hands behind her, and her head held high,
+and her clear eyes very straight to the front; well-knit, well-built, with a
+promise of that vague something which is so much stronger a factor in the world
+than mere beauty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Walton, who necessarily saw much of the mediocre and commonplace in her
+life-work of turning growing girls into presentable young women, felt her
+feelings undergo a further change. She also had the tact to see an appeal would
+go farther than mere advice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was only thinking of you, Hal,&rdquo; she said, a trifle tiredly.
+&ldquo;I have nothing against Lorraine, except that she is dangerously
+attractive if she likes, and her love of admiration and excitement does not
+make her a very wise friend for a girl of your age. You are different, and your
+paths are likely to lead far apart in the future. It did not seem to me
+desirable you should grow too fond of each other.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Even as she spoke she found herself wondering what Hal would say, and in an
+unlooked-for way interested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal answered promptly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not think our lives will lie apart. Both of us will have to be
+breadwinners at any rate, and that will be a bond.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her mobile face seemed to change. &ldquo;Miss Walton, I&rsquo;m devoted to
+Lorraine. I always shall be. But you needn&rsquo;t be anxious. The stronger
+influence is not where you think. I can bend Lorraine&rsquo;s will, but she
+cannot bend mine. It will always be so. And nothing that you nor any one can
+say will make me change to her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They said little more, but when she was alone the head mistress stood silently
+for some minutes looking into the dying embers of her fire. Then she uttered to
+herself an enigmatical sentence:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Beauty will give to Lorraine the great career; but the greater woman
+will be Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shortly after that Lorraine departed, and about a year later embarked in the
+theatrical world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No one was surprised, but very adverse opinions were expressed among the girls
+concerning her success or otherwise; those who were jealous, or who had felt
+slighted during her short reign as school beauty, condemning any possible
+likelihood of a hit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal said very little. She was already reaching out tentacles to the wider
+world, where schoolgirl criticisms would be mere prattle; and it was far more
+serious to her to wonder what Brother Dudley would think of her having an
+actress for her greatest friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She foresaw rocks ahead, but smiled humorously to herself in spite of them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a tussle there&rsquo;ll be!&rdquo; was her thought, &ldquo;and how
+in the world am I to convince Dudley that Lorraine does not represent a
+receptacle for all the deadly sins? Heigho! The mere fact of my disagreeing
+will persuade him I am already contaminated, and he will see us both heading,
+like fire-engines, for the nethermost hell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<p>
+If Dudley Pritchard&rsquo;s imagination did not actually picture the lurid and
+violent descent Hal suggested, it certainly did view with the utmost alarm his
+lively young sister&rsquo;s friendship with a fully fledged actress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a matter of fact, Miss Walton&rsquo;s prognostications concerning his
+attitude to Lorraine Vivian, even as a schoolgirl, had been instantly confirmed
+upon their first meeting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For no particular reason he disapproved of her. That was rather typical of
+Dudley. He disapproved of a good many things without quite knowing why, or
+being at any particular pains to find out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Not that it made him bigoted. He could in fact be fairly tolerant; but as Hal
+affectionately observed, Dudley was so apt to pat himself on the back for his
+toleration towards things that it would never have occured to most persons
+needed tolerating.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew perfectly well that he considered himself very tolerant towards much
+that was to be deprecated in her, but, far from resenting his attitude, she
+saw chiefly the humorous side, and managed to glean a good deal of quiet
+amusement from it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Considering the fifteen years&rsquo; difference in their ages, and the fact
+that Dudley was a hard-working architect in London, seeing life on all sides,
+while Hal was still a hoydenish schoolgirl, it was really remarkable how
+thoroughly she grasped and understood his character, and a great deal
+concerning the world in general, while he seemed to remain at his first
+decisions concerning her and most things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was just perhaps the difference between the book-student and the
+life-student. Dudley had always had a passion for books and for his profession.
+His clever brain was a well of knowledge concerning ancient architectures and
+relics of antiquity. He studied them because he loved them, and, before all
+things else, to him they seemed worth while.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He loved his sister also&mdash;he loved her better than any one, but it would
+never have occured to him that she should be studied, or that there was
+anything in her to study. To him she was quite an ordinary girl, rather
+nice-looking when she was neat, but with a most unfortunate lack of the sedate
+dignity and discretion that he considered essential to the typically admirable
+woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That there might be other traits in their place, equally admirable, did not
+occur to him. They ware not at any rate the traits he most admired.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal, on the other hand, was different in every respect. She loathed books, and
+learning, and what she called &ldquo;dead old bones and rubbish.&rdquo; But she
+loved human nature, and studied it in every phase she could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Left at a very tender age to Dudley&rsquo;s sole care and protection, she had
+to grow up without the enfolding, sympathetic love of a mother, or the gay
+companionship of brothers and sisters. Not in the least depressed, she started
+off at an early age in quest of adventure to see what the world was like
+outside the four walls of their home.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brought back, sometimes by a policeman, with whom she had already become on the
+friendliest terms, sometimes in a cab in which some one else had placed her,
+sometimes by a kindly stranger, she would yet slip away again on the first
+opportunity, into the crush of mankind. Punishment and expostulation were alike
+useless; Hal was just as fascinated with people as Dudley was with books, and
+where her nature called she fearlessly followed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Through this roving trait she picked up an amount of commonplace, everyday
+knowledge that would have dumbfoundered the clever young architect, had he been
+in the least able to comprehend it. But while he dipped enthusiastically into
+bygone ages, and won letters and honours in his profession, she asked questions
+about life in the present, and grappled with the problem of everyday existence
+and the peculiarities of human nature, in a way that made her largely his
+superior, despite his letters and honours.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And best of all was her complete understanding of him. Dudley fondly imagined
+he was fulfilling to the best possible endeavours his obligations of love and
+guardianship to his young sister. The young sister, with her tender, quizzical
+understanding, regarded him as a mere child, with a deliciously humorous way of
+always taking himself very seriously; a brilliant brain, an irritating fund of
+superiority, and something altogether apart that made him dearer than heaven
+and earth and all things therein to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal might be dearer than all else to Dudley, without finding herself loved in
+any way out of the ordinary, seeing how little he cared much about except his
+profession; but to be the beloved of all, to an eager, passionate, intense
+nature like hers, meant that in her heart she had placed him upon a pedestal,
+and, while fondly having her little smile over his shortcomings, yet loved him
+with an all-embracing love. He did not suspect it, and he would not have
+understood it if he had; being rather of the opinion that, considering all he
+had tried to be to her, she might have loved him enough in return to make a
+greater effort to please him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her obdurate resistance during the first stage of his disapproval of Lorraine
+Vivian increased this feeling considerably. He felt that if she really cared
+for him she should be willing to be guided by his judgment; and while
+perceiving, just as Miss Walton had done, that she meant to have her own way,
+he had less perspicacity to perceive also that nameless trait which, for want
+of a better word, we sometimes call grit, and which dimly proclaimed she might
+be trusted to follow her own strength of character.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When, later, his attitude of displeasure increased a thousandfold.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not told of it just at first. Hal was then in the throes of convincing
+him that her particular talents lay in the direction of secretarial work and
+journalism, rather than governessing or idleness, and persuading him to make
+arrangements at once for her to learn shorthand and typewriting with a view to
+becoming the private secretary of a well-known editor of one of the leading
+newspapers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The editor in question was a distant connection, and quite willing to take her
+if she proved herself capable, recognising, through his skill at reading
+character, that she might eventually prove invaluable in other ways than mere
+letter-writing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley, seeing no farther than the fact of the City office, set his face
+resolutely against it as long as he could; but, of course, in the end Hal
+carried the day. Then came the shock of the knowledge that Lorraine had gone on
+the stage; and if, as had been said before, he did not actually picture the
+lurid exit to the lower regions Hal gave him credit for, he was sufficiently
+upset to have wakeful nights and many anxious, worried hours.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And to make it worse, Hal would not even be serious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t look like that, Dudley!&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;we
+really are not in any immediate danger of selling our souls to the Prince of
+Darkness. You dear old solemnsides! Just because Lorraine is going on the
+stage, I believe you already see me in spangles, jumping through a hoop. Or
+rather &lsquo;trying to&rsquo;, because it is a dead cert. I should miss the
+hoop, and do a sort of double somersault over the horse&rsquo;s tail.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley shut his firm lips a little more tightly, and looked hard at his boots,
+without vouchsafing a reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As a matter of fact,&rdquo; continued the incorrigible, &ldquo;you ought
+to perceive how beautifully life balances things, by giving a dangerously
+attractive person like Lorraine a matter-of-fact, commonplace pal like myself
+to restrain her, and at the same time ward off possible dangers from various
+unoffending humans, who might fall hurtfully under her spell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is only the danger to you that I have anything to do with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh fie, Dudley! as if I mattered half as much as Humanity with a capital
+H.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To me, personally, you matter far more in this particular case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yet, really, the chief danger to me is that I might unconsciously
+catch some reflection of Lorraine&rsquo;s charm and become dangerously
+attractive myself, instead of just an outspoken hobbledehoy no one takes
+seriously.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not afraid of that,&rdquo; he said, evoking a peal of laughter of
+which he could not even see the point; &ldquo;but since you are quite
+determined to go into the City as a secretary, instead of procuring a nice
+comfortable home as a companion, or staying quietly here to improve your mind,
+I naturally feel you will encounter quite enough dangers without getting mixed
+up in a theatrical set. Though, really,&rdquo; in a grumbling voice, &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t see why you don&rsquo;t stay at home like any sensible girl. If I
+am not rich, I have at least enough for two.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if I stayed at home, and lived on you, Dudley, I should feel I had
+to improve my mind by way of making you some return; and you can&rsquo;t think
+how dreadfully my mind hates the idea of being improved. And if I went to some
+dear old lady as companion, she would be sure to die in an apoplectic fit in a
+month, and I should be charged with manslaughter. And I can&rsquo;t teach,
+because I don&rsquo;t know anything. The only serious danger I shall run as Mr.
+Elliott&rsquo;s secretary will be putting an occasional addition of my own to
+his letters, in a fit of exasperation, or driving his sub-editor mad; and he
+seems willing to risk that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are likely to run greater dangers than that if you allow yourself to
+be drawn into a theatrical circle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of dangers?… Oh, my dear, saintly episcopal architect, what
+foundations of darkness are you building upon now, out of a little
+old-fashioned, out-of-date prejudice which you might have dug up from some of
+your studies in antiquity books? There are just as many dangers outside the
+theatrical world as in it, for the sort of woman dangers are attractive to; and
+little Sunday-school teachers have come to grief, while famous actresses have
+won through unscathed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley&rsquo;s face expressed both surprise and distaste.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder what you know about it anyway. I think you are talking at
+random. Certainly no dangers would come near you if you listened to my wishes
+and settled down quietly at home. If you don&rsquo;t care about living in
+Bloomsbury, I will take a small house in the suburbs, and you can amuse
+yourself with the housekeeping, and tennis, and that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when you want to marry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall not want to marry. I am wedded to my profession.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;O Dudley!… Dudley!…&rdquo; She slipped off the table where she had been
+jauntily seated, and came and stood beside him, passing her arm through his.
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you see I&rsquo;d just die of a little house in the suburbs,
+looking after the housekeeping: it&rsquo;s the most dreadful and awful thing on
+the face of the earth. I&rsquo;m not a bit sorry for slaves, and prisoners, and
+shipwrecked sailors, and East-end starvelings; every bit of sympathy I&rsquo;ve
+got is used up for the girls who&rsquo;ve got to stay in hundrum homes, and be
+nothing, and do nothing, but just finished young ladies. Work is the finest
+thing in the world. It&rsquo;s just splendid to have something real to do, and
+be paid for it. Why, they can&rsquo;t even go to prison, or be hungry, or
+anything except possible wives for possible men who may or may not happen to
+want them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you are talking arrant nonsense,&rdquo; Dudley replied
+frigidly. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where in the world you get all your queer
+ideas. Woman&rsquo;s sphere is most decidedly the home; you seem
+to&mdash;&rdquo; but a small hand was clapped vigorously over his mouth, and
+eyes of feigned horror searching his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know, I&rsquo;m half afraid you&rsquo;ve lived in your musty old
+books so long, Dudley,&rdquo; with mock seriousness, &ldquo;that you&rsquo;ve
+lost all count of time. It is about a thousand years since sane and sensible
+men believed all that drivel about women&rsquo;s only sphere being the home,
+and since women were content to be mere chattels, stuck in with the rest of the
+furniture, to look after the children. Nowadays the jolly, sensible woman that
+a man likes for wife or pal, is very often a busy worker.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let her work busily at home, then!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, you&rsquo;ll want me to crochet antimacassars next, or cross-stitch
+a sampler! Just imagine the thing if I tried! It would have dreadful results,
+because I should be sure to use bad language&mdash;I couldn&rsquo;t help it;
+and the article I should concoct would make people faint, or turn cross-eyed or
+colour-blind. I shan&rsquo;t do nearly so much harm in the end as a City
+secretary with an actress pal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One thing is quite certain: you mean, as usual, to have your own way,
+and my feelings go for nothing at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned away from her, and took up his hat to go out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your protestations of affection, Hal, are apt to seem both insincere and
+out of place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The tears came swiftly to her eyes, and she took a quick step towards him, but
+he had gone, and closed the door after him before she could speak. She watched
+his retreating figure, with the tears still lingering, and then suddenly she
+smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyhow, I haven&rsquo;t got to be sweet and gentle and
+housekeepy,&rdquo; was her comforting reflection. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to be
+a real worker, earning real money, and have Lorraine for my pal as well. Some
+day Dudley will see it is all right, and I&rsquo;m only about half as black as
+he supposes, and that I love him better than anything else at heart. In the
+meantime, as I&rsquo;m likely to get a biggish dose of dignified disapproval
+over this theatre business, I&rsquo;d better ask Dick to come out to tea this
+afternoon to buck me up for what lies ahead. Goodness! what a boon a jolly
+cousin is when you happen to have been mated with your great-aunt for a
+brother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<p>
+For a few years after that particular disagreement nothing of special note
+happened. Hal got quickly through her course of shorthand and typewriting and
+became Mr. Elliott&rsquo;s private secretary and general factotum, which last
+included an occasional flight into journalism as a reporter. Naturally, since
+this sometimes took her to out-of-the-way places, and brought her in contact
+with human oddities, she loved it beyond all things, and was ever ready for a
+jaunt, no matter whither it took her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brother Dudley was discreetly left a little in the dark about it, because
+nothing in the world would ever have persuaded him that a girl of Hal&rsquo;s
+age could run promiscuously about London unmolested. Hal knew better. She was
+perfectly well able to acquire a stony stare that baffled the most dauntless of
+impertinent intruders; and she had, moreover, an upright, grenadier-like
+carriage, and an air of business-like energy that were safeguards in
+themselves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A great deal of persuasive tact was necessary, however, to win Dudley&rsquo;s
+consent to a year in America, whither Mr. Elliott had to go on business; but on
+Mrs. Elliott calling upon him herself to explain that she also was going, and
+would take care of Hal, he reluctantly consented.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Curiously enough, it was that year in a great measure that changed the current
+of Lorraine&rsquo;s life. She came to the cross-roads, and took the wrong turn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps Miss Walton, with her knowledge of girls, could have foretold it. She
+might have said, in that enigmatical way of hers, &ldquo;If Lorraine comes to
+the cross-roads, where life offers a short cut to fame, instead of a long,
+wearisome drudgery, she will probably take it. Hal will score off her own bat,
+or not at all. Lorraine will only care about gaining her end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Anyhow the cross-roads came, and Hal, the stronger, was not there. As a matter
+of fact, for some little time the two had not seen much of each other. Lorraine
+was touring in the provinces, and rarely had time to come to London. Hal was
+tied by her work, and could not spare the time to go to Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was for a little while a cessation of intercourse. Neither was the least
+bit less fond, but circumstances kept them apart, and they could only wait
+until opportunity brought them together again. Both were too busy for lengthy
+correspondence, and only wrote short letters occasionally, just to assure each
+other the friendship held firm, and absence made no real difference.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Hal went off to America, and while she was away Lorraine came to her
+cross-roads.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is hardly necessary to review in detail what her life had been since she
+joined the theatrical profession. It is mostly hard work and disillusion and
+disappointment for all in the beginning, and only a very small percentage ever
+win through to the forefront.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But for Lorraine, on the top of all the rest, was a mercenary, unscrupulous,
+intriguing mother, who added tenfold to what must inevitably have been a heavy
+burden and strain&mdash;a mother who taxed her utmost powers of endurance, and
+brought her shame as well as endless worry; and yet to whom, let it be noted
+down now, to her everlasting credit, no matter in what other way she may have
+erred, she never turned a deaf ear nor treated with the smallest unkindness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It would be impossible to gauge just what Lorraine had to go through in her
+first few years on the stage. She seemed to make no headway at all, and at the
+end of the third year she felt herself as far as ever from getting her chance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That she was brilliantly clever and brilliantly attractive had not so far
+weighed the balance to her side. There were many others also clever and
+attractive. She felt she had practically everything except the one thing
+needed&mdash;influence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus her spirits were at a very low ebb. She was still touring the provinces,
+and heartily sick of all the discomfort involved. Dingy lodgings, hurried train
+journeys, much bickering and jealousy in the company with which she was acting,
+and a great deal of domestic worry over that handsome, extravagant mother, who
+had once taken her, in company with the so-called uncle, to the select seminary
+of the Misses Walton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How her mother managed to live and dress as if she were rich had puzzled
+Lorraine many times in those days; but when she left the shelter of those
+narrow, restricting walls, where windows were whitewashed so that even boys
+might not be seen passing by, she learnt many things all too quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She learnt something about the uncles too. One of them was at great pains to
+try and teach her, but with hideous shapes and suggestions trying to crowd her
+mind, the thought of Hal&rsquo;s freshness still acted as a sort of protection
+and kept her untainted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little later, after she had commenced to earn a salary, she found that
+directly the family purse was empty, and creditors objectionably insistent, she
+herself had to come to the rescue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were some miserable days then. It was useless to upbraid her mother. She
+always posed as the injured one, and could not see that in robbing her child of
+a real home she was strewing her path with dangers as well, by placing her in
+an ambiguous, comfortless position, from which any relief seemed worth while.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then at last came the welcome news that Mrs. Vivian had procured a post as
+lady-housekeeper to a rich stockbroker in Kensington, who had also a large
+interest in a West-end theatre.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine read the glowing terms in which her mother described her new home and
+employer with a deep sense of relief, seeing in the new venture a probable
+escape for herself from those relentless demands upon her own scanty purse. A
+month later came the paragraph, in a voluminous epistle:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Raynor says you are to make his house your home whenever you are
+free. He insists upon giving you a floor all to yourself, like a little flat,
+where you can receive your friends undisturbed, and feel you have a little home
+of your own. I am quite certain also that he will try to help you in your
+career through his interest in the Greenway Theatre.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If Lorraine wondered at all concerning this unknown man&rsquo;s interest in her
+welfare she kept it to herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A home instead of the dingy lodgings she had grown to hate, and the prospect of
+influential help, were sufficiently alluring to drown all other reflections.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the tour was over she went direct to Kensington, to make her home with her
+mother until her next engagement. She was already too much a woman of the world
+not to notice at once that her mother and her host&rsquo;s relations seemed
+scarcely those of employee and employer, and there was a little passage of arms
+between herself and Mrs. Vivian the next morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In reply to a long harangue, in which that lady set forth the advantages
+Lorraine was to gain from her mother&rsquo;s perspicacity in obtaining such a
+post, she asked rather shortly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And why in the world should Mr. Raynor do all this for me, simply
+because you are his housekeeper?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A red spot burned in Mrs. Vivian&rsquo;s cheek as she replied: &ldquo;He does
+it because he wants me to stay; and I have told him I cannot do so unless he
+makes it possible for me to give you a comfortable, happy home here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine&rsquo;s lips curled with a scorn she did not attempt to conceal, but
+she only stood silently gazing across the Park.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had already decided to make the best of her mother&rsquo;s deficiencies,
+seeing she was almost the only relative she possessed, but she had a natural
+loathing of hypocrisy, and wished she would leave facts alone instead of
+attempting to gloss them over. Ever since she left school she had been obliged
+to live in lodgings, because her mother would not take the trouble to try and
+provide anything more of a home.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a little too much, therefore, that she should now allude to her maternal
+solicitude because it happened to suit her purpose. She felt herself growing
+hard and callous and bitter under the strain of the early struggle to succeed,
+handicapped as she was; and because of one or two ugly experiences that came in
+the path of such a warfare. She was losing heart also, and feeling bitterly the
+stinging whip of circumstances. As she stood gazing across the Park, some girls
+about her own age rode past, returning from their morning gallop, talking and
+laughing gaily together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine found herself wondering what life would be like with her beauty and
+talent if there were no vulgarly extravagant, unprincipled mother in the
+background, no insistent need to earn money, no gnawing ambition for a fame she
+already began to feel might prove an empty joy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had not seen Hal for a year, and she felt an ache for her. In the shifting,
+unreliable, soul-numbing atmosphere of her stage career, she still looked upon
+Hal as a City of Refuge; and when she had not seen her for some time she felt
+herself drifting towards unknown shoals and quicksands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And, unfortunately, Hal was away in America, with the editor to whom she was
+secretary and typist, and not very likely to be back for three months.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No; there was nothing for it but to make the best of her mother&rsquo;s
+explanation and the comfortable home at her feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for Mr. Raynor himself, though he seemed to Lorraine vulgarly proud of his
+self-made position, vulgarly ostentatious of his wealth, and vulgarly familiar
+with both herself and her mother, she could not actually lay any offence to his
+charge. And in any case, he undoubtedly could help her, if he chose, to procure
+at last the coveted part in a London theatre. With this end in view, she laid
+herself out to please him and to make the most of her opportunity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in this way she came to those cross-roads which had to decide her future.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before she had been a week in the house, Frank Raynor deserted his housekeeper
+altogether, and fell in love with the housekeeper&rsquo;s daughter. Within a
+fortnight he had laid all his possessions at Lorraine&rsquo;s feet, promising
+her not only wealth and devotion, but the brilliant career she so coveted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man was generous, but he was no saint. Give him herself, and she would have
+the world at her feet if he could bring it there. Give any less, and he would
+have no more to say to her whatsoever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the cross-roads.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorrain struggled manfully for a month. She hated the idea of marrying a man
+better suited in every way to her mother. She dreaded and hated the thought of
+what had perhaps been between them; yet she was afraid to ask any question that
+might corroborate her worst fears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All that was best in her of delicate and refined sensitiveness surged upward,
+and she longed to run away to some remote island far removed from the harsh
+realities of life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, how could she? Without money, without influence, without rich friends,
+what did the world at large hold for her?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How much easier to go with the tide&mdash;seize her opportunity&mdash;and dare
+Fate to do her worst.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the last there was a bitter scene between mother and daughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you refuse Frank Raynor now, you ruin the two of us,&rdquo; was Mrs.
+Vivian&rsquo;s angry indictment. &ldquo;What can we expect from him any more?
+How are you ever going to get another such chance to make a hit?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what if it ruins my life to marry him?&rdquo; Lorraine asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such nonsense! The man can give you everything. What in the world more
+do you want? He is good enough looking; he could pass as a gentleman, and he is
+rich.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sudden nauseous spasm at all the ugliness of life shook Lorraine. She turned
+on her mother swiftly, scarcely knowing what she said, and asked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are anxious enough to sell me to him. What is he to you anyway? What
+has he ever been to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Vivian blanched before the suddenness of the attack, but she held her
+ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You absurd child, what in the world could he be to me? It is easy enough
+to see he has no eyes for any one but you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And before I came?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine took a step forward, and for a moment the two women faced each other
+squarely. The eyes of each were a little hard, the expressions a little flinty;
+but behind the older woman&rsquo;s was a scornful, unscrupulous indifference to
+any moral aspect; behind the younger&rsquo;s a hunted, rather pitiful
+hopelessness. The ugly things of life had caught the one in their talons and
+held her there for good and all, more or less a willing slave, the soul of the
+younger was still alive, still conscious, still capable of distinguishing the
+good and desiring it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The mother turned away at last with a little harsh laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Before you came he was nothing to me. He never has been anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without waiting for Lorraine to speak, she turned again, and added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you weren&rsquo;t a fool, you would perceive he is treating you
+better than ninety-nine men in a hundred. He has suggested marriage. The others
+might not have done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! I&rsquo;m not a fool in that way,&rdquo; came the bitter reply,
+&ldquo;but I&rsquo;ve wondered once or twice what your attitude would have
+been, supposing&mdash;er&mdash;he had been one of the ninety-nine!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Vivian was saved replying by the unexpected appearance of Frank Raynor
+himself. Entering the room with a quick step, he suddenly stopped short and
+looked from one to the other. Something in their expressions told him what had
+transpired. He turned sharply on the mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve been speaking to Lorraine about me. I told you I
+wouldn&rsquo;t have it. I know your bullying ways, and I said she was to be
+left to decide for herself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine saw an angry retort on her mother&rsquo;s lips, and hurriedly left the
+room. She put on her hat and slipped away into the Park. What was she to do?…
+where, oh where was Hal!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Within three months the short cut was taken. Lorraine was engaged to play a
+leading part at the Greenway Theatre, and she was the wife of Frank Raynor.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hal came back from America and heard about Lorraine&rsquo;s marriage, it
+was a great shock to her. At first she could hardly bring herself to believe it
+at all. Nothing thoroughly convinced her until she stood in the pretty
+Kensington house and beheld Mrs. Vivian&rsquo;s pronounced air of triumph, and
+Lorraine&rsquo;s somewhat forced attempts at joyousness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was one of the few occasions in her life when Lorraine was nervous. She did
+not want Hal to know the sordid facts; and she did not believe she would be
+able to hide them from her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Hal, from a mass of somewhat jerky, contradictory information, had gleaned
+that the new leading part at the London theatre had been gained through the
+middle-aged bridegroom&rsquo;s influence, her comment was sufficiently direct.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s why you did it, is it? Well, I only hope you
+don&rsquo;t hate the sight of him already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How absurd you are, Hal!... Of course I don&rsquo;t hate the sight of
+him. He&rsquo;s a dear. He gives me everything in the world I want, if he
+possibly can.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How dull. It&rsquo;s much more fun getting a few things for oneself. And
+when the only thing in all the world you want is your freedom, do you imagine
+he&rsquo;ll give you that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine got up suddenly, thrusting her hands out before her, as if to ward off
+some vague fear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal, you are brutal today. What is the use of talking like that now?...
+Why did you go to America?... Perhaps if you hadn&rsquo;t gone&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me a cigarette,&rdquo; said Hal, with a little catch in her voice,
+&ldquo;I want soothing. At the present moment you&rsquo;re a greater strain
+than Dudley talking down at me from a pyramid of worn-out prejudices. I
+don&rsquo;t know why my two Best-Belovèds should both be cast in a mould to
+weigh so heavily on my shoulders.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sitting on the table as usual, she puffed vigorously at her cigarette, blowing
+clouds of smoke, through which Lorraine could not see that her eyes were dim
+with tears. For Hal&rsquo;s unerring instinct told her that, at a critical
+moment, Lorraine had taken a wrong path.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine, however, was not looking in Hal&rsquo;s direction. She had moved to
+the window, and stood with her back to the room, gazing across the Park, hiding
+likewise misty, tell-tale eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly, as Hal continued silent, she turned to her with a swift movement of
+half-expressed protest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal! you shan&rsquo;t condemn me, you shan&rsquo;t even judge me.
+Probably you can&rsquo;t understand, because your life is so
+different&mdash;always has been so different; but at least you can try to be
+the same. What difference has it made between you and me anyhow?... What
+difference need it make? I have got my chance now, and I am going to be a
+brilliant success, instead of a struggling beginner. What does the rest matter
+between you and me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter between you and me. But it matters to you. I
+feel I&rsquo;d give my right hand if you hadn&rsquo;t done it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How could I help doing it? Oh, I can&rsquo;t explain; it&rsquo;s no use.
+We all have to fight our own battles in the long run&mdash;friends or no
+friends. Only the friends worth having stick to one, even when it has been a
+nasty, unpleasant sort of battle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That hard look, with the hopelessness behind it, was coming back into
+Lorraine&rsquo;s eyes. She was too loyal to tell even Hal what her mother had
+been like the last few months before the critical moment came, and at the
+critical moment itself. She could not explain just how many difficulties her
+marriage had seemed a way out from.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There had been other men who had not proposed marriage. There had been
+insistent creditors&mdash;her mother&rsquo;s as well as her own. There had been
+that deep hunger for something approaching a real home, and for a sense of
+security, in a life necessarily full of insecurities.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Obdurate, difficult theatre managers, powerful, jealous fellow-actresses, ill
+health, bad luck! Behind the glamour and the glitter of the stage, what a world
+of carking care, of littleness, meanness, jealousy, and intrigue she had found
+herself called upon to do battle with.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now, if only her husband proved amenable, proved livable with, how
+different everything would be? But in any case Hal must be there. Somehow
+nothing of all this showed in her face as she fronted the smoker, still blowing
+clouds of smoke before her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What has become of Rod?&rdquo; Hal asked suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine winced a little, but held her ground steadily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rod had to go. What could Rod and I have done with &pound;500 a
+year?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My own&rdquo;&mdash;from the blunt-speaking one&mdash;&ldquo;it surely
+seems as if you might have thought of that before you allowed Rod to run all
+over the country after you, and get &lsquo;gated&rsquo;, and very nearly
+&lsquo;sent down&rsquo;, and spend a year or two&rsquo;s income ahead in trying
+to give you pleasure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine flung herself down on the sofa with a callous air, and beat her foot
+on the ground impatiently. The parting with Rod was another thing she did not
+propose to describe to Hal. It had hurt too badly, for one thing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you moralise, Hal, you are detestable. Besides, it&rsquo;s so
+cheap. Any one can sit on a table and hurl sarcasm about. I daresay in my place
+you would have married Rod, from a sense of duty or something, and ruined all
+the rest of his life. Or perhaps, after gently breaking the news, you&rsquo;d
+have let him come dangling round to be &lsquo;mothered&rsquo;. Well, I
+don&rsquo;t say I haven&rsquo;t been a bit of a brute to him; but anyhow I
+tried to do the square thing in the end. I cut the whole affair dead off. I
+told him I would not see him nor write to him again. I&rsquo;ve since sent two
+letters back unopened, and though you mightn&rsquo;t think it, I was just
+eating my heart out for a sight of him. But what&rsquo;s the good! He&rsquo;s
+got to follow in the footsteps of whole centuries of highly respectable,
+complacent, fat old bankers. His father and mother would have a fit if he
+didn&rsquo;t develop into the traditional fat old banker himself, and beget
+another of the same ilk to follow on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I daresay with me he would have developed a little more soul, and a
+little less stomach&mdash;but what of it?&rdquo; with a graceful shrug.
+&ldquo;For the good of his country it is written that he shall acquire weight
+and stolidity, instead of an ideal soul, and for the benefit of posterity I
+sentenced him to speedy rotundity, and dull respectability, and the begetting
+of future bankers. He will presently marry some one named Alice or Annie, and
+invite me to the first christening in a spirit of Christian forgiveness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal smiled more soberly than was her wont.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what of you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What of me?... Oh, I don&rsquo;t come into that sort of scheme. I never
+ought to have been there at all. Still, I&rsquo;m glad I showed him he&rsquo;d
+got something in himself beside the stale accumulations of many banker
+ancestors; if it&rsquo;s only for the sake of the next little banker, who may
+want to lay claim to an individual soul.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it hurt, Lorraine?... don&rsquo;t tell me it didn&rsquo;t hurt
+after... after&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh yes, it hurt,&rdquo; with a low, bitter laugh; &ldquo;but what of
+that either? It&rsquo;s generally the woman who gets hurt; but I suppose I knew
+I was riding for a fall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose you are any more hurt than he is. You know he
+worshipped you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; only presently it will be easy for him to get back into the old,
+orthodox groove with &lsquo;Alice&rsquo;, and persuade himself that I was only
+a youthful infatuation, whereas I&mdash; Oh, what does it matter, Hal! Come out
+of that &lsquo;great-aunt&rsquo; mood, and let&rsquo;s be jolly while we can.
+I&rsquo;ll ring for coffee and liqueurs, and then we&rsquo;ll make lots of
+ripping plans to see everything in England worth seeing&mdash;until I can find
+time to go abroad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal sprang off her table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, very well,&rdquo; she rejoined, &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get rowdy and
+sing the song &lsquo;Love may go hang.&rsquo; When I&rsquo;ve got it over with
+Dudley, we&rsquo;ll just go straight on, keeping a good look out for the next
+fence. You&rsquo;d better tell me something about this paternal husband of
+yours, just to prepare me for our meeting. He doesn&rsquo;t put his knife in
+his mouth, and that sort of thing, does he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; not quite so bad. His worst offence at present, I think, is to call
+me &lsquo;wifey&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wifey!&rdquo; in accents of horror. &ldquo;Lorraine, how awful!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; but I&rsquo;m breaking him of it by degrees: that and his fondness
+for a soft felt hat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They sat on chatting together with apparent gayness, but Hal&rsquo;s heart was
+no lighter after she had duly been presented to the paternal husband, as she
+called him, and she journeyed solemnly home on a bus, feeling rather as if she
+had been to a funeral. She tried at first to hide her feelings from
+Dudley&mdash;no difficult matter at all, since he usually contributed little
+but a slightly absent &ldquo;yes&rdquo; and &ldquo;no&rdquo; to the
+conversation, and if the conversation languished he took small notice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+However, he had to be told, and Hal rarely troubled to do much beating about
+the bush, so, in order to rouse him speedily and thoroughly, just as he was
+settling down to his newspaper she hurled the news at his head without any
+preliminary preparation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you think Lorraine has done now? Been and gone and married a man
+old enough to be her father!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Married!... Lorraine Vivian married!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley&rsquo;s newspaper went down suddenly on to his knee.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal had squatted on the hearthrug, tailor fashion, before the fire, and she
+gave a little swaying movement backward and forward, to signify the
+affirmative. He looked at her a moment as if to make sure she was not joking,
+and then said, with sarcastic lips:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man old enough to be her father?... then it isn&rsquo;t even Rod
+Burrell!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; it isn&rsquo;t even Rod Burrell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some one with more money and influence, I suppose? Well, I don&rsquo;t
+know that Burrell needs any one&rsquo;s condolences.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He does, badly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He won&rsquo;t for long. The Burrells are a sensible lot, and no
+sensible man frets over a heartless woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine is not a heartless woman. She has too much heart.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is certainly very generous with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know which is the more detestable, a sarcastic man or a
+sensible one.&rdquo; Hal shut her lips tightly, and stared at the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I imagine you hardly expect any sort of man to admire Miss
+Vivian&rsquo;s action.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter in the least what &lsquo;any sort of man&rsquo;
+thinks. I am only concerned with the possibility that she will weary of
+matrimony quickly and be miserable. I told you, because I wanted you to hear it
+from me instead of from a newspaper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley suddenly grew more serious, as he realised how it must in a measure
+affect Hal also.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is a stockbroker, named Frank Raynor, aged fifty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And of course she married him for his money?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so. Also he partly owns the Greenway Theatre.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pshaw . . . it&rsquo;s a mere bargain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was silent. She had rested her chin on her hands, and was now gazing
+steadily at the embers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course if he is not a gentleman, you will have to leave off seeing so
+much of her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. She would need me all the more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is quite possible,&rdquo; drily; &ldquo;but you owe something to
+yourself and me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t owe failing a friend to any one. But he is a gentleman
+almost&mdash;a self-made one, and he doesn&rsquo;t let you forget it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you&rsquo;ve seen him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, today.&rdquo; Her lips suddenly twitched with irresistible humour.
+&ldquo;He called me &lsquo;Hal&rsquo; and Lorraine &lsquo;wifey.&rsquo; We bore
+it bravely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What business had he to call you by your Christian name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;None. I suppose he just felt like it. He also alluded to my new hat as a
+bonnet. Also he used to be an office-boy or something. He seemed inordinately
+proud of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I loathe a self-made man who is always cramming it down one&rsquo;s
+throat. I don&rsquo;t see how you can have much in common with either of them
+any more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal got up, as if she did not want to pursue the subject.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It won&rsquo;t make the smallest difference to Lorraine and me,&rdquo;
+she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley knit his forehead in vexation and perplexity, remarking:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you mean to be obstinate about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; with a little laugh; &ldquo;only firm.&rdquo; She came round
+to his chair and leant over the back it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear old long-face, don&rsquo;t look so worried. None of the dreadful
+things have happened yet that you expected to come of my friendship with
+Lorraine. The nearest approach to them was the celebrated young author I
+interviewed, who asked me to go to Paris with him for a fortnight, and he was a
+clergyman&rsquo;s son who hadn&rsquo;t even heard of Lorraine. Next, I think,
+was the old gentleman who offered to take me to the White City. I don&rsquo;t
+seem much the worse for either encounter, do I? and it&rsquo;s silly to meet
+trouble halfway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She bent her head and kissed him on the forehead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley,&rdquo; she finished mischievously, &ldquo;what are you going to
+give Lorraine for a wedding-present?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I might buy her the book, &lsquo;How to be Happy though
+Married,&rsquo;&rdquo; he said dilly, &ldquo;or write her a new one and call it
+&lsquo;Words of Warning for Wifey.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll give her something together,&rdquo; Hal exclaimed
+triumphantly, knowing that, as usual, she had won the day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she went off to bed, feigning a light-heartedness she was far from
+feeling, and dreading, with vague misgivings, what the future might bring
+forth.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was a little over two years later that the crash came. There was first a
+commonplace, sordid tale of bickering and quarrelling, with passionate jealousy
+on the part of the middle-aged husband, and callous, maddening indifference on
+the part of the now successful and brilliant actress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To do Lorraine justice, she was not actively at fault. Her sense of fair play
+made her try sincerely to make the best of what had all along been an
+inevitable fiasco. She did not sin in deed against the man to whom she had sold
+herself, but in thought it was hardly possible for her to give him anything but
+tolerance, or to feel much beyond the callous indifference she purposely
+cultivated, to make their life together endurable. The things that at first
+only irritated her grew almost unbearable afterwards.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine&rsquo;s father had been a gentleman by birth, breeding, and nature. If
+she inherited from her mother an ambitious, calculating spirit, she also
+inherited from her father refinement, and tone, and a certain fineness
+character, that showed itself chiefly in unorthodox ways, for the simple reason
+that her life and conditions were entirely removed from a conventional
+atmosphere.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a man she might merely have lived a double life, conforming to the
+conventions when advisable, and following her own ambitions and bent in secret,
+without ever apparently stepping over the line.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a woman she could but cultivate callous indifference to a great deal, and
+satisfy her soul by &ldquo;playing fair&rdquo; according to her lights, in the
+path before her, but nothing could save her from a mental nausea of the things
+in her husband which belonged to his plebeian origin and nature, and which
+crossed with a shrivelling, searing touch her own inherent refinement and
+high-born spirit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The objectionable friends he brought to the house she found it easier to bear
+than the things he said about them behind their backs; neither, again, was his
+addiction to drink so trying as his mental coarseness. A man who had drank too
+much could be avoided, but the lowness of Frank Raynor&rsquo;s mind seemed to
+follow and drag hers down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet for two years she held bravely on, cultivating a hard spirit, and throwing
+herself heart and soul into the first delicious joy of success. This last
+surprised even her friends and admirers. A moderate hit was quite expected, but
+not a triumph which placed her almost in the first rank, and was due not merely
+to her acting, but to a bigness of spirit and comprehension she had never
+before had an opporturnty to reveal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was, indeed, the justification of Hal&rsquo;s devotion. Hal, by her very
+nature, could not love a small-minded woman. What she so unceasingly loved and
+admired in Lorraine was a hidden something she alone had had the perspicacity
+to perceive, and could so instinctively rely upon. It was the something which,
+given once a fair opening, carried her quickly through the company of the
+lesser successes, and placed her on that high plane which demands soul as well
+as skill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came the dreadful climax. In a drunken, mad moment her husband hurled at
+her that he had been her mother&rsquo;s lover, and proposed to return to his
+old allegiance&mdash;had, in fact, already done so.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine immediately packed up her own special belongings and left his roof for
+ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Expostulations, promises, threats, passionate assurances that he had not been
+responsible for what he said failed alike to move her. She knew that whether
+responsible or not he had spoken the truth, and that everything else either he
+or her mother could say was false.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finding her obdurate, he swore to ruin them both; but she told him she would
+sing for bread in the streets before she would go back to him; and he knew she
+meant it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fearing his influence against her and his sworn revenge, she went to Italy for
+a year, and hid in quiet villages until his passion should somewhat have died,
+finding herself in the dreadful position, not only of being betrayed by her
+mother, but quite unable to obtain any sort of freedom without revealing the
+black stain upon her only near relation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She could not seek a divorce under the terrible circumstances, and she was far
+too proud and spirited to touch a farthing of her husband&rsquo;s money. It was
+like a dreadful chapter in her life, of which she could only turn down the
+page; never, never, obliterate nor escape from.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the black days and weeks of despair which followed, she often felt she must
+have lost her reason without Hal, and even to her she could not tell the actual
+truth. Hal asked once, and then no more. Afterwards it was like a secret,
+unnamed horror between them, from which the curtain must not be raised.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the rest there was the usual but intenser scene of remonstrance between
+Dudley and Hal with the usual resentful and obdurate termination. This time
+Dudley even got seriously angry, unable to see anything but a foolish,
+unprincipled woman reaping a just reward of her own sowing; and for nearly a
+week his displeasure was such that he addressed no single word to Hal if he
+could help it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal, for once, was too wretched about everything to resent his attitude, and
+merely waited for the sun to shine again and the black, enveloping clouds to
+roll away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She saw Lorraine everyday, in the apartments whence she had fled, and helped
+her to make the necessary arrangements to cancel the short remainder of an
+engagement and get away. She even had one interview with the irate husband, but
+no one ever knew what took place, except that Raynor sought no repetition, and
+seemed afterwards to have a respectful awe of Hal&rsquo;s name which spoke
+volumes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Accustomed to intimidating women with a curse and an oath, he had found himself
+unexpectedly dealing with two who could scorch him with a scorn and contempt
+far more withering than a vulgar tirade of blasphemous language.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally the break was made complete. Lorraine got safely away to Italy, her
+mother retired to an English village, and Raynor departed to America for good.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For him it was merely a case of fresh pastures for fresh money-making and fresh
+intrigues.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Mrs. Vivian only a passing exile from the gaieties and extravagance she
+loved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Lorraine it meant a hideous memory, a hideous, overwhelming catastrophe,
+and a hideous tie from which she could not hope to free herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went away in a state of nervous prostration that was an illness, feeling
+the horror of it all in her very bones, and clinging with a silent hopelessness
+to Hal in a way that was more heart-rending than any hysterical outburst.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet that Hal was there was good indeed. Hal, who, though only twenty-one, could
+look out on an ugly world with those clear eyes of hers, and while seeing the
+ugliness undisguised, see always as it were beside it the ultimate good, the
+ultimate hope, the silver lining behind the blackest cloud. Hal, who could
+criticise unerringly, with direct, outspoken humour,and yet scorn to judge; who
+had learnt, by some strange instinct, the precious art of holding out a
+friendly hand and generous friendship, even to those condemned of the orthodox,
+sufferers probably through their own wild and foolish actions, without in any
+way becoming besmirched herself, or losing her own inherent freshness and
+purity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not in the least surprising that a man as wedded to his books and
+profession as Dudley should fail to realise what was, in a measure, phenomenal.
+By the simple rule of A B C, he argued that ill necessarily contaminates, if
+the one to come in contact is of young and impressionable years. There might of
+course be exceptions, but hardly among those as frivolous and obstinate as Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He worried himself almost ill about it all, until Lorraine was safely out of
+England, adding seriously to poor Hal&rsquo;s troubled mind, seeing she must
+stand by the one while longing to soothe and please the other, and fretting
+silently over his anxious expression. But once back in their old groove, he
+quickly recovered his spirits, and even tried to make up to Hal a little for
+what she had lost. Unfortunately, however, he hit upon an unhappy expedient.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He tried to persuade her to make a friend of a certain Doris Hayward, instead
+of Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris&rsquo;s brother had been Dudley&rsquo;s great friend in the days when
+both were articled to the same profession, but a terrible accident had later
+lain him on an invalid couch for the rest of his life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When clerk of the works of one of London&rsquo;s great buildings, a heavy crane
+had slipped and swung sideways, flinging him into the street below. He was
+picked up and carried into the nearest hospital, apparently dead, but he had
+presently come back, almost from the grave, to drag out a weary life as an
+incurable on an invalid sofa.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Soon afterwards his father died, leaving Basil and his two sisters the poor
+pittance of &pound;50 a year between them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel, the elder, was already a Civil Service clerk at the General Post Office,
+earning &pound;110 a year, and on these two sums they had to subsist as best
+they could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil earned occasional guineas for copying work, when he was well enough to
+stand the strain, and Doris remained at home with him in the little Holloway
+flat, as nurse and housekeeper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley, with his usual lack of comprehension where women were concerned,
+evolved what seemed to him an admirable plan, in which Hal and Doris became
+great friends, thereby brightening poor Doris&rsquo;s dull existence, and
+weaning Hal from her allegiance to the unstatisfactory Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His plans, however, quickly met with the discouragement and downfall inevitable
+from the beginning. At first he tried strategy, and Hal, in a good-tempered,
+careless way, merely listened, while easily avoiding any encounter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Dudley went a step too far.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have to be out three evenings this week, so I asked Doris Hayward to
+come and keep you company, as I thought you might be dull.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You asked Doris to come and keep <i>me</i> company!&rdquo; repeated Hal,
+quite taken aback.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; why not? She is such a nice girl, and just your age. I can&rsquo;t
+think why you are not greater friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s pretty apparent,&rdquo; with a little curl of her lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t anything in common: that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why haven&rsquo;t you? You can&rsquo;t possibly know if you never
+meet. She seems such a far more sensible friend for you than Lorraine
+Vivian,&rdquo; with a shade of irritation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably that is exactly why I don&rsquo;t want her friendship,&rdquo;
+with a light laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you might try to be reasonable just once in a way. Try to be
+friendly tomorrow evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal, with her quick, light gracefulness, crossed to him, and playfully gave him
+a little shake.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley, you dear old idiot. I don&rsquo;t know about being reasonable,
+but I can certainly be honest; and it&rsquo;s honest I&rsquo;m going to be now.
+I think it is almost a slur on Lorraine to mention a little, silly,
+dolly-faced, conceited creature like Doris in the same breath; and as for being
+friendly to her tomorrow evening, that&rsquo;s impossible, because I shall not
+be here. I&rsquo;m going to the Denisons, and I don&rsquo;t intend to postpone
+it. You will have to write and tell her I am engaged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley&rsquo;s mouth quickly assumed the rigidity which denoted he was greatly
+displeased, and his voice was frigid as he replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are very injust to Doris. You scarcely know her, and yet you condemn
+her offhand: the fault you are always finding in me. As for any comparison
+between her and Miss Vivian, it is very certain she would not sell herself to a
+man, and then run away from him because things did not turn out as she wanted
+them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal turned away, with a slight shrug and a humorous expression as of
+helplessness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We won&rsquo;t argue, <i>mon frère</i>, because, since you always read
+books instead of people, you are not very well up in the subject. To put it
+both candidly and vulgarly, I haven&rsquo;t any use for Doris Hayward at all.
+Ethel I admire tremendously, though I don&rsquo;t think she likes me; and Basil
+is a saint straight out of heaven, suffering martyrdom for no conceivable
+reason, but Doris is like a useless ornamental china shepherdess, which ought
+to be put on a high shelf where it can&rsquo;t get itself nor any one else
+into trouble. I&rsquo;m really dreadfully afraid if I had to spend a whole
+evening alone with her, I should drop her and break her to relieve my
+feelings.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you needn&rsquo;t worry&rdquo;&mdash;moving coldly away. &ldquo;I
+have far too much respect for Doris to allow her to come here just to be
+criticised by you. I will explain that you are unexpectedly engaged,&rdquo; and
+he opened a paper in a manner to close the conversation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal made a little grimace at him behind it, and retired discreetly to prepare
+for her daily sojourn in the City.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It happened, however, when, a year later, Lorraine came back to take up her
+theatrical career again in England, there was some vague change in her that
+made Dudley less severe in his criticisms. Trouble had not hardened her, nor
+softened her, but it had made her a little less sure of herself, and a little
+more willing to please.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hitherto she had taken rather a pleasure in shocking Dudley, under the
+impression that it would do him good and open his mind a little. Now she had a
+greater respect for his sterling side, and could smile kindly at his little
+foibles and fads. The result was that Dudley admitted, a trifle grudgingly, she
+had changed for the better, and rather looked forward to the occasional
+evenings she spent with Hal at their Bloomsbury apartments.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He also had to admit that success had in no wise spoilt her, that it probably
+never would. The year of absence, it was soon seen, had not injured her
+reputation in the least. She came back to the stage renewed and invigorated,
+and with still more of that depth of feeling and atmosphere of soul which had
+so enriched her personations before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She became, very speedily, without any question, one of the leading actressess
+of the day; and the veil of mystery that hung over the sudden termination of
+her short married life, if anything, enhanced her charm to a mystery-loving
+public. And all the time, as Dudley could not but see, she never changed to
+Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From adulation and adoration, from triumphs that might easily turn any head she
+always came quickly back to the little Bloomsbury sitting-room when she could,
+to have one of their old gay gossips and merry laughs. She seemed in some way
+to find a rest there that she could not get elsewhere, in the company of people
+who expected her to live up to a recognised standard of individuality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the change in Lorraine was a change for the better in Hal too, who began
+now to tone down a little, and at the same time to strengthen and deepen in
+character.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were, in fact, a pair it was good to see and good to know. In the first
+few years after the break-up of her home Lorraine was at her handsomest. Her
+dark, thick hair had a gloss on it that in some lights showed like a bronze
+glow, and she wore it in thick coils round her small head, free from any
+exaggerated fashion, and yet with a distinction all its own. Her dark eyes once
+more showed the roguish lights of her schooldays, and her alluring red mouth
+twitched mischievously when she was in a gay mood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little below the medium height, she was so perfectly built as to escape any
+appearance of shortness, and carried herself so well, she sometimes appeared
+almost tall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Considering what her life had been, she looked strangely young for her years,
+seeming to combine most alluringly the knowledge and sympathy of a woman of
+thirty-five with the freshness and capacity for enjoyment of twenty-five. The
+irrevocable tie so far had not clashed with any new affection; her husband
+remained in America and made no sign; and her art was all-sufficing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was built on quite different lines. Tall, and slender, and well knit, she
+moved with the surging grace of the athlete, and looked out upon the world with
+a joyfulness and humorous kindliness that won her friends everywhere. She was
+not beautiful in any sense that could be compared with Lorraine, but she had
+pretty brown hair, and fine eyes, and a clear, warm skin that made up for other
+defects, and helped to produce a very attractive whole.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine had taught her how to dress&mdash;an art of far deeper significance
+than many women trouble to realise; and wherever Hal went, if she did not
+create a sensation, at least she carried a distinction and pleasingness that
+were rarely overlooked. Her daily sojourn in the City, among the bread-winners,
+had made her large-hearted and generously tolerant, without hurting in any
+degree her own innate womanliness and charm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She showed in her every gesture and action how it was possible to be of those
+who must scramble for buses, and press for trams, and live daily in the midst
+of panting, struggling, working, grasping humans, without losing tone, or
+gentleness, or a radiant, fearless spritit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the office of the newspaper where she filled the post of secretary and
+typist, she was a sort of cheerful institution to smooth worried faces and call
+up a smile amidst the irritability and frowns.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Blunderers went to her with their troubles, and felt fairly secure if she would
+break the news of the blunder or mistake to the irritable and awe-inspiring
+chief. He, in his turn, would be irritable before her, but never with her; and
+it was a recognised fact among the staff that she was almost the only one who
+could make him laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus a few intervening years passed happily enough, briging Lorraine to her
+thirty-first birthday and Hal to her twenty-fifth, without any further
+upheavals to strike a discordant note across the daily round, except such
+inevitable trials as Lorraine continued to meet through her mother, and Hal
+through her devotion to a non-comprehending brother. Only, while they had each
+other and their work, such difficulties were not hard to cope with; and life
+sang a gayer, happier song to them than she usually sings to the mere
+pleasure-seekers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For work in a wide interesting sphere is a priceless boon, and the men who
+would condemn women solely to pleasure-seeking and the four walls of their home
+are showing the very acme of selfishness, in that they are endeavouring to keep
+solely and entirely for themselves one of the best things life has to give.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p>
+It will be remembered, perhaps, that an occasion has already occured when Hal
+had cause to congratulate herself upon the possession of a cousin, named Dick,
+who acted as an antidote to a brother who sometimes resembled a great-aunt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick, or to give him his full name, Richard Alastair Bruce, was indeed her best
+friend and boon companion next to Lorraine. He was her earliest playmate, and
+likewise her latest. For many months together they had been companions in the
+wildest of wild escapades as children, at Dick&rsquo;s country home; and now
+that they were both responsible members of the community, in the world&rsquo;s
+greatest city, they were equally attached.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If Hal was down on her luck, she telephoned Dick to come instantly to the
+rescue, and if it was humanly possible he came. If Dick wanted a sympathetic or
+gay companion, either to go out with him or to listen to his latest
+inspirations, he telephoned to Hal, and little short of an urgent, important
+engagement would delay her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the time he becomes of any importance in this narrative he was established
+in a flat in the Cromwell Road, as one of a trio sometimes known as the Three
+Graces. The other two were Harold St. Quintin and Alymer Hermon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The appellation was first given to them when they were freshmen at New College,
+Oxford; partly because they were inseparable, partly because they were a
+particularly good-looking trio, and partly because they all three came up from
+Winchester with great cricket reputations. Within two years they were all
+playing for the &lsquo;Varsity&rsquo; and one of them was made captain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Three years from the term of their leaving, after each had gone his own way for
+a season, they gravitated together again, and finally became established in the
+Cromwell Road flat, once more on the old affectionate terms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick Bruce was following a literary career, of a somewhat ambiguous nature. He
+wrote weird articles for weird papers, under weird pseudonyms, verses, under a
+woman&rsquo;s name, for women&rsquo;s papers, usually of the <i>Home
+Dressmaker</i> type; occasional lines to advertise some patent medicine or
+soap; one or two Salvation Army hymns of a particularly rousing nature: and
+sometimes a weighty, brilliant article for a first-class paper, duly signed in
+his own name.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Besides all this he visited a publisher&rsquo;s office most days, where he was
+supposed to be meditating the acquirement of a partnership. Hal was very apt at
+terse, concise definitions, and she was quite up to her best form when she
+described him as &ldquo;the maddest of a mad clan run amok.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Harold St. Quintin, or Quin, as every one called him, was idealist,
+etherealist, and dreamer. His original intention had been to enter the Church,
+but having gone down into East London to give six months to slum work, he had
+remained two years without showing any inclination to give it up. Sometimes he
+lived at the flat, and sometimes he was lost for a week at a time somewhere
+east of St. Paul&rsquo;s, where one might as well have looked for him as for
+the proverbial needle in a haystack.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon, after a sojourn on the continent to study languages, was now
+established with a barrister, waiting, it must be confessed, without much
+concern, for his first brief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of the three he was the most striking. Dick Bruce was only ordinarily
+good-looking, with a very white skin, a fine forehead, and an arresting pair of
+eyes&mdash;eyes that were like an index to a brain that held volumes of
+original observations and whimsicalities, and revealed only just as much or
+little as the author chose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Harold St. Quintin was small and rather delicate, with never-failing
+cheerfulness on his lips, and eyes that seemed always to have behind them the
+recollection of the pitiful scenes among which he voluntarily moved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon was Adonis returned to earth. He stood six foot five and a half
+inches in his socks, and was as perfectly proportioned as a man may be; with a
+head and face any sculptor might have been proud to copy line by line for a
+statue of masculine beauty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he was captain of the Oxford Eleven, people spoke of his beauty more than
+his cricket, although the latter was quite sufficiently striking in itself.
+There were others who had sweepstakes on his height, before the score he would
+make, or the men he would bowl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The &lsquo;Varsity&rsquo; was proud of him, as they had never been proud of a
+captain before, because he upheld every tradition of manliness and manhood at
+its best. And they only liked him the better that so far his attitude to his
+own comeliness was rather that of boredom than anything else. Certainly it
+weighed as nothing in the balance against the joy of scoring a century and
+achieving a good average with his bowling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was equally bored with the young girls who gazed at him in adoration, and
+the women who petted him, and it was a considerable source of worry to him that
+he might appear effeminate, because of his blue eyes and golden hair, and
+fresh, clear complexion, when in reality he was as manly as the plainest of
+hard-sinewed warriors, though the indulgence of a slightly aesthetic manner and
+way of speech, learnt at the University, increased rather than counteracted the
+suggestion of effeminacy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, taking all things into consideration, he was singularly unspoilt and
+unassuming; and sometimes blended with an old-fashioned, paternal air a
+boyishness and power of enjoyment that could not fail to charm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The first time that Lorraine met the trio was when Hal took her to spend the
+evening at the flat one Sunday, by arrangement with her cousin. She herself
+knew all three well, having been to the flat many times, but it had taken some
+little persuasion to get Lorraine to go with her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course they are just boys,&rdquo; said grandiloquent twenty-five,
+&ldquo;but they are quite amusing, and they will be proud of it all their lives
+if they can say they once had Lorraine Vivian at the flat as a guest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you call boys?&rdquo; asked Lorraine, looking amused; &ldquo;I
+thought you said they had all left college,&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they have, but that&rsquo;s nothing. Dick is only twenty-five, and
+the others are about twenty-four.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A much more irritating age than mere boyhood as a rule.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Decidedly; but they really are a little exceptional. Dick, of course, is
+quite mad&mdash;that&rsquo;s what makes him interesting. Alymer Hermon is a
+giant with a great cricket reputation, and Harold St. Quintin is a sort of
+modern Francis Assisi with a sense of humour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The giant sounds the dullest. I hope he doesn&rsquo;t want to talk
+cricket all the time, because I don&rsquo;t know anything about it, except that
+if a man stands before the wicket he is out, and if he stands behind it he is
+not in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no; he doesn&rsquo;t talk cricket. He mostly talks drivel with Dick,
+and St. Quintin laughs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dick sounds quite the best, in spite of his madness. A cricketer who
+talks drivel, and a future clergyman working in the East End, don&rsquo;t
+suggest anything that appeals to me in the least.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nevertheless, when Lorraine, looking very lovely, entered the small
+sitting-room of her three hosts, her second glance, in spite of herself,
+strayed back to the young giant on the hearth-rug. He was looking at Hal
+sideways, with a quizzical air; and she heard him say:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It may be new, but it&rsquo;s not the very latest fashion, because it
+doesn&rsquo;t stick out far enough at the back, and it doesn&rsquo;t cover up
+enough of your face.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh well!&rdquo; said Hal jauntily, &ldquo;if I had as much time as you
+to study the fashions, I daresay I should know as much about them. But I have
+to <i>work</i> for my living,&rdquo; with satirical emphasis.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a nuisance for you,&rdquo; with a delightful smile. &ldquo;I only
+pretend to work for mine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We all know that. You sit on a stool, and look nice, and wait for a
+brief to come along and beg to be taken up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a chair. I&rsquo;m not one of the clerks. And I
+shouldn&rsquo;t get a brief any quicker if I went and shouted on the housetops
+that I wanted one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Besides, you don&rsquo;t want one. You know you wouldn&rsquo;t know what
+to do with it if you got it. Well, how&rsquo;s East London?…&rdquo; and Hall
+crossed to the slum-worker, with a show of interest she evidently did not feel
+for the embryo barrister. Lorraine smiled at him, however, and he moved
+leisurely forward to take the vacant seat beside her on the sofa.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is Hal trying to sharpen her wit at your expense?&rdquo; she asked him,
+in a friendly, natural way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; but it&rsquo;s a very blunt weapon at the best. People who always
+think they are the only ones to work are very tiring; don&rsquo;t you think
+so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Decidedly; and I don&rsquo;t suppose she does half s much as you and I
+in reality.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh well, I could hardly belie myself so far as to assert that. You see,
+it takes a long time to make people understand what a good barrister you would
+be if you got the chance to prove it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal could not resist a timely shot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Personally, I shoud advise you to try and prove it without the chance.
+The chance might undo the proving, you see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a rotten, mixed-up, meaningless remark!&rdquo; he retorted.
+&ldquo;Is it because you find I am so dull, you still have to talk to
+me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quin is never dull, he is only depressing. Dick, do hurry up and begin
+supper. I always feel horribly hungry here, because I know Quin has just come
+away from some starving family or other, and I have to try and eat to
+forget.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine leant across to the dreamy-eyed first-class circketer, voluntarily
+giving his life to the slums.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you do it?&rdquo; she asked with sudden interest. &ldquo;It
+seems, somehow, unnatural in a&mdash;&rdquo; she hesitated, then finished a
+little lamely, &ldquo;a man like you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, not at all,&rdquo; he hastened to assure her. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s
+the most fascinating work in the world. It&rsquo;s full of novelty and
+surprises for one thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She shuddered a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the misery and want and starvation. The … the… utter hopelessness of
+it all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it isn&rsquo;t hopeless at all. Nothing is hopeless. And then,
+knowing the misery is there, and doing nothing, is far worse than seeing it and
+doing what one can.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, because one can forget so often.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some can. I can&rsquo;t. Therefore I can only choose to go and wrestle
+with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it is heroic of you, but still!&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Harold St. Quintin gave a gay laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not a bit more heroic than your work on the stage to give people
+pleasure. I get as much satisfaction in return as you do; and that is the main
+point. Slum humanity is seething with interest, and it is by no means all sad,
+nor all discouraging. There is probably more humour and heroism there per
+square mile than anywhere else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And no doubt more animal life also,&rdquo; put in Dick Bruce.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the superfluous things that put me off, not the want of
+anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s feeling such an ass puts me off,&rdquo; added Hermon;
+&ldquo;they&rsquo;re all so busy and alert about one thing or another down
+there, they make me feel a mere cumberer of the earth. A woman manages a
+husband, and a family, and some sort of a home, and does the breadwinning as
+well. The children try to earn pennies in their playtime; and the men work at
+trying to get work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whereas you?…&rdquo; suggested Hal with a twinkle, &ldquo;work at
+trying not to get work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come to supper, and don&rsquo;t be so personal, Hal,&rdquo; said her
+cousin. &ldquo;I wrote a poem on you last week, and called it &lsquo;Why Men
+Die Young.&rsquo; It is in a rag called <i>The Woman&rsquo;s Own Newspaper</i>.
+It is also in <i>The Youth&rsquo;s Journal</i>, with the pronouns altered, and
+a different title; but I forget what.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a waste of time&mdash;writing such drivel,&rdquo; Hal flung at him.
+&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you compose a masterpiece, and scale Olympus?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too commonplace. Lots of men have done that. Very few are positive
+geniuses at writing drivel. I claim to be in the front rank.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They sat down to a lively repast, and Lorraine found herself, instead of an
+awe-inspiring, distinguished guest, treated with a frank camaraderie that was
+both amusing and refreshing. They all made a butt of Hal, who was quite equal
+to the three of them; and when the giant paraphrased one of her
+(Lorraine&rsquo;s) most tragic utterances on the stage into a serio-comic
+dissertation on a fruit salad they were eating, lacking in wine, she laughed as
+gaily as any, and felt she had known them for years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Hal insisted upon playing a game she had that moment invented, which
+consisted of each one confessing his or her greatest failing, and the gaiety
+grew.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She led off by informing them that she found she always jumped eagerly at any
+excuse to avoid her morning bath. Dick Bruce followed it up with a confession
+that he found he was never satisfied with fewer than four &ldquo;best
+girls&rdquo;, because he liked to compare notes between them, and write silly
+verses on his observations; while Harold St. Quintin owned to an objectionable
+fancy for bull&rsquo;s-eye peppermints and blowing eggs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon confessed that he loved giving advice to people years older than
+himself, concerning things he knew nothing whatever about.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine tried to cry off, but, hard pressed, she admitted that she liked the
+excitement of spending money she had not got, and then having to pawn something
+to satisfy her creditors. &ldquo;Spending money you will not miss,&rdquo; she
+finished, &ldquo;is very dull beside spending money you do not possess.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon then suggested they should tell each other of besetting faults,
+and at once informed Hal her colossal opinion of herself and all she did was
+only equalled by its entire lack of foundation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal hurled back at him that every inch in height after six feet absorbed
+vitality from the brain, and that, though his dense stupidity was most trying,
+the reason for it claimed their compassion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You pride yourself beyond all reason on your stature,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;and are too dense to perceive it is your undoing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine leant towards him and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inches give magnanimity: big men are always big-hearted; you can afford
+to forgive her, and retaliate that too much brain-power sinks individuality
+into mere machinery. I should say Hal&rsquo;s besetting fault was rapping every
+one on the knuckles, as if they were the keys of a typewriting machine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yours, my dear Lorraine, is smiling into every one&rsquo;s eyes, as
+if the world held no others for you. Were I a man, and you smiled at me so, I
+would strangle you before you had time to repeat the glance on some one
+else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Dick&rsquo;s besetting sin,&rdquo; murmured St. Quintin plaintively,
+&ldquo;is a persistent fancy for other people&rsquo;s ties and other
+people&rsquo;s boots. I have cause to bless the benign and other people&rsquo;s
+boots. I have cause to bless the benign providence who fashioned my shoulders
+sufficiently smaller than his to prevent his wearing my coats.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And yours, Quin,&rdquo; broke in Hermon, &ldquo;is a fond and loathsome
+affection for pipes so seasoned that the Board of Trade ought to prohibit their
+use.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After all,&rdquo; Hal rapped out at him, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s not so bad
+as love of a looking-glass.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And love of a looking-glass is no worse than love of throwing stones
+from glass houses,&rdquo; he retorted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it isn&rsquo;t, Hal,&rdquo; broke in her cousin, &ldquo;and
+probably if you had anything nice to look at in your glass&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal stood up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The meeting is adjourned,&rdquo; she announced solemnly, &ldquo;and the
+honourable member who was just spoken has the president&rsquo;s leave to absent
+himself on the occasion of the next gathering.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Excellent,&rdquo; cried Quin, while Hermon in great glee rapped the
+table with his knife handle and exclaimed, &ldquo;Capital, Dick!... That drew
+her... I think you might say it took the middle stump.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, thank goodness he&rsquo;s got on to cricket,&rdquo; breathed Hal.
+&ldquo;He does know a little about that, and may possibly talk sense for ten
+minutes. Come along, Lorraine, and don&rsquo;t address Baby at present, for
+fear you distract him from his game and start him off struggling to be clever
+again. As it is Sunday night, perhaps Dick would like to read us his latest
+effusions in the way of boisterous hymns!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She led the way back to the bachelor sitting-room, and for some little time
+Dick amused them greatly with his experiences over editors and magazines, and
+then the two went off together to Lorraine&rsquo;s flat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At this time she was living at the bottom of Lower Sloane Street, with windows
+looking over the river, and it was generally supposed that her mother lived
+with her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a matter of fact, Mrs. Vivian only occupied the ground floor flat in company
+with a friend. Lorraine give her an income on condition she should live there,
+and so, in a sense, act as a sort of chaperone to silence the tongues ever
+ready to find food for scandal in the fact of brilliance and beauty living
+alone; but mother and daughter had never again been on terms of cordiality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Hal was often Lorraine&rsquo;s companion for several nights, coming and
+going as she fancied, always sure of a welcome. To her the flat was a constant
+delight, and in the evening she loved to sit on the verandah and watch the
+gliding river&mdash;not to sentimentalise and dream, but because she loved
+London with all her heart and soul and strength, and to her the river was as
+the city&rsquo;s pulsing heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moist freshness of the air coming across from Battersea Park was only the
+more refreshing after Bloomsbury, and the vicinity of several well-known names
+in the world of art and letters appealed porwerfully to her imagination.
+Lorraine usually sat just inside the long French window, taking care of her
+voice, and listening contentedly to Hal&rsquo;s chatter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They sat thus for a little while after their return from Cromwell Road, and it
+was noticeable that Lorraine was even more silent than usual. Hal told her
+something about each of their three hosts in turn, while showing an
+unmistakable preference for the slum-worker and her cousin. At last Lorraine
+interrupted her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you say so little about Mr. Hermon?... you merely told me he was
+a cricketer, which doesn&rsquo;t, as a matter of fact, describe him at
+all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal shrugged her shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose he doesn&rsquo;t interest me except in that way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it is a mere side issue. If he weren&rsquo;t a cricketer he would be
+just as remarkable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he isn&rsquo;t remarkable. He&rsquo;s only exceptionally big.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s one of the most remarkable men I&rsquo;ve ever seen,
+anyway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nonsense, Lorraine. Besides, he is hardly a man yet. He&rsquo;s only
+twenty-four.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help that,&rdquo; with a little laugh. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+seen a great many men in my life, but I&rsquo;ve never seen any one before like
+Alymer Hermon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why in the world not? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, to begin with, he&rsquo;s the most perfect specimen of manhood
+I&rsquo;ve ever beheld. He&rsquo;s abnormally big without the slightest
+suggestion of being either too big or awkward. He&rsquo;s simply magnificent.
+Most men of that size are just leggy and gawky: he is neither. Again, other men
+built as he, are usually rather brainless and weak, or probably made so much of
+by women that they become wrapped up in themselves, and are always expecting
+admiration. Alymer Hermon has the freshness of a delightful boy, with the fine
+face and courtly manners of a charming man. If you can&rsquo;t see this,
+it&rsquo;s because you don&rsquo;t know men as well as I do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal stepped over the window sill into the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pooh!&rdquo; she said impatiently. &ldquo;What in the world has happened
+to you? He&rsquo;s just a stuffed blue-and-gold Apollo.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine got up also.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s more than that. Some day you will see; unless...
+unless....&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, unless what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nothing, only a man like that can&rsquo;t expect to escape being
+spoilt. A certain type of woman will inevitably mark him down for her prey, and
+ruin all his freshness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you had better take him under your wing,&rdquo; Hal laughed.
+&ldquo;It would be a pity for such a paragon to be lost to society. Personally,
+stuffed blue-and-gold Apollos don&rsquo;t interest me in the least. Come along
+to bed. I&rsquo;m dead tired,&rdquo; and she dragged Lorraine away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But instead of sleeping, the actress lay silently watching a star that shone in
+at her window, and thinking a little sadly about the man nature had chosen to
+endow so bountifully. In a few weeks she would be thirty-two and he was
+twenty-four.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Supposing it had been twenty-two instead of thirty-two, and out of his
+splendour he had given his heart to her dark beauty, what a tale it might have
+been&mdash;what a fairy-tale of sweet, impossible things, with a golden-haired
+prince and a dark-eyed princess.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She awoke from her day-dream with a touch of impatience, apostrophising herself
+for her folly. After all, what had a beautiful, successful woman at her prime
+to do with a youth of twenty-four, who played foolish games at a supper-table,
+and was only just beginning to know his world? Of course he would bore her
+intolerably at a second interview, and, closing her eyes resolutely, she drove
+his image from her mind.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<p>
+The second interview, however, by a mere coincidence, took place at
+Lorraine&rsquo;s flat. She was walking leisurely down Sloane Street one
+afternoon, after visiting her milliner&rsquo;s, when she ran into the young
+giant going in the opposite direction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How so?...&rdquo; she asked gaily, as is face lit up with a pleased
+smile, and he stopped in front of her. &ldquo;Whither away at this hour? Are
+you chasing a brief?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Much too brief,&rdquo; he told her. &ldquo;I had to carry some important
+papers to a certain well-known Cabinet Minister; and he did not even vouchsafe
+me a glance of his countenance. I was given an acknowledgment of them by the
+footman, as if I had been a messenger boy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too bad. I think you deserve that another celebrity should give you a
+cup of tea, to redeem your opinion of the immortals. My flat is quite near, and
+I am now returning. Will you come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, won&rsquo;t I?&rdquo; he said boyishly, and turned back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the fashionable hour in Sloane Street, when many well-dressed,
+well-known people are often seen walking, and when the road is full of private
+motors and carriages. Lorraine found herself moving still more slowly. She was
+accustomed to being gazed at herself, had in fact grown a little blasé of it,
+but the frank admiration bestowed on her giant amused and pleased her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Covertly she watched, as she chatted up to him, for the tell-tale consciousness
+and perhaps heightened colour. But when he was looking back into her face he
+looked straight before him, over the heads of the admiring eyes, and paid no
+smallest heed to them. Neither was he in the least self-conscious with her. She
+wondered if he even realised that the tête-à-tête he accepted so simply would
+have been a joy of heaven to many. Anyhow, far from resenting his seeming want
+of due appreciation, she found it made him more interesting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She spoke of Hal, and he immediately exclaimed: &ldquo;Hal is a ripper,
+isn&rsquo;t she? I can&rsquo;t help teasing her, you know; it&rsquo;s the best
+fun in the world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you usually tease your feminine friends?&rdquo; she asked.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve no doubt you have a great many.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, I haven&rsquo;t. Men pals are far jollier.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, I expect your inches bring you many fair admirers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He shrugged his shoulders slightly, and looked a trifle bored, and she divined
+that he disliked flattery and probably the subject of his appearance. She
+adroitly turned the conversation back to Hal, and spoke of her until they
+reached the block of flats.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this where you live? What a ripping situation!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+&ldquo;I would sooner be near the river than near Knightsbridge, even if it is
+not so classy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He followed her into the lift, and then into her charming home, full of
+enthusiasm, and still without exhibiting a shade of self-consciousness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine found her interest growing momentarily, as he took up his stand on her
+hearth and gazed frankly around, with undisguised pleasure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a jolly nice room. It&rsquo;s one of the prettiest I&rsquo;ve seen.
+You have the same color-scheme as the Duchess of Medstone in her boudoir, but I
+like your furniture better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine glanced up a little surprised.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know the Duchess of Medstone?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, yes&rdquo;&mdash;a trifle bashfully. &ldquo;You see, those sort of
+people ask me to their houses because of my cricket. Private cricket weeks are
+rather fashionable, and I get invitations as the late Oxford captain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you go to people you don&rsquo;t know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, rather, if I can raise the funds. The nuisance is the tipping.
+There&rsquo;s always such a rotten lot of servants; and I&rsquo;m too much
+afraid of them to give anything but gold.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The tea came in, and she saw him glance round for the chair best suited to his
+bulk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My chairs were not designed for giants,&rdquo; she told him laughingly;
+&ldquo;you will have to come and sit on the settee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He came at once, stretching his long legs out before him, with lazy ease, and
+then drawing his knees up sharply, as if in sudden remembrance that he was a
+guest and they were comparative strangers. Lorraine liked him, both for the
+moment&rsquo;s forgetfulness and the sudden remembrance, and as she glanced
+again at his beautiful head and splendid shoulders, she was conscious of a
+sudden thrill of appreciative admiration.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was right in naming him Apollo. The Sun God might have been fashioned just
+so, when first he ravished the eyes of Venus.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And so the duchess took you into her boudoir?&rdquo; she asked, with an
+unaccountable twinge of jealousy. &ldquo;I do not know her. I&rsquo;m afraid my
+friends are not so aristocratic as yours. But I believe she is considered very
+handsome.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hard,&rdquo; he said, with an old-fashioned air. &ldquo;Handsome enough,
+but very hard. I did not like her nearly so much as Lady Moir, her
+sister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still no doubt she was very nice to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine rather hated herself for the question. The ways of aristocratic
+ladies, whose idle hours often supply a field of labour for the Evil One, were
+perfectly well known to her; and she wondered a little sharply how far he was
+still unspoilt. The majority of big, strong, full-blooded young men in his
+place would assuredly have sipped the cup of pleasure pretty deeply by now,
+even at his years, but with that fine, strong face, and the clear, frank eyes
+was he of these? She believed not, and was glad.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not treat her question as if it implied any special favours, and merely
+replied jocularly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I suppose, since her blood is very blue and mine merely tinged,
+she was rather gracious, but of course the really &lsquo;blue&rsquo; people
+generally are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me who you happen to be?&rdquo; Lorraine leant back against her
+cushions, with her slow, easy grace, asking the question with a lightness that
+robbed it of all pointedness or snobbery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He seemed amused, for he smiled as he answered frankly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I happen to be Alymer Hadstock Hermon, one fo <i>the</i> Hermons all
+right, but not the drawing-room end, so to speak; at the same time tinged with
+her family shadiness&mdash;&lsquo;blue&rsquo; of course I mean&mdash;though no
+doubt it applies in other ways as well. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or do
+you want to know more?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She loved looking at him, particularly with that humorous little smile on his
+lips, so she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not half. I want to know all the rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. It&rsquo;s quite an open book. I was born twenty-four years
+ago. I am an only child, and, as usual, the apple of my mother&rsquo;s eye and
+the terror of my father&rsquo;s pocket. He, my father, is not much else just
+now except a recluse. He was recently a member of parliament, a Liberal member,
+and, God knows, that&rsquo;s little enough. I believe he even climbed in by a
+Chinese pigtail.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My grandfather was a Judge in the Divorce Court, which doesn&rsquo;t
+somehow sound quite respectable, and my great-grandfather was a writer of law
+books, for which, personally, I think he ought to have been hanged. I
+can&rsquo;t go any farther back; at any rate I don&rsquo;t want to, because
+I&rsquo;m certain it&rsquo;s all so correct and dull there isn&rsquo;t even a
+family skeleton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it the women or the men of the family that are beautiful?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, both,&rdquo; with humorous eagerness. &ldquo;Skeletons and ghosts we
+sought, and clamoured for, but ugliness, never.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s a pity you were not a woman. Looks are wasted in a man.
+Give a man a ready tongue and a taking manner, and he can usually get what he
+wants, if he&rsquo;s as ugly as a frog. With you, on the other hand, things
+will come too easily. You will miss all the fun of the chase. On my soul
+I&rsquo;m sorry for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The briefs don&rsquo;t come anyway, nor the &lsquo;oof&rsquo;:
+that&rsquo;s all I can see to be sorry for.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t want them badly enough, that&rsquo;s all. If you want
+the one, you&rsquo;ll make love to an influential woman who can get them, and
+if you want the other, you&rsquo;ll marry an heiress.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, you&rsquo;re giving me rather a rotten character, aren&rsquo;t
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He faced her suddenly, and a new expression dawned in his eyes, as if he were
+only just awakening to the fact that she was beautiful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you really think I&rsquo;m such a rotter as all that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She glanced away, lowering her eyelids, so that her long lashes swept the warm
+olive cheeks, and with a little callous shrug answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why should you be a rotter for doing what all the rest of the world
+does? Four-fifths of mankind would give anything for your chances.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you just said you were sorry for me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I am. So I should be for the four-fifths of mankind, if they got all
+they wanted just for the asking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He smiled with a sudden, charming whimsicality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t feel much in need of sympathy, you know. It&rsquo;s a
+ripping old world, as long as you can indulge a few mild fancies, and be left
+alone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mild fancies!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned on him suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What have you to do with mild fancies? Why, you can have the world at
+your feet with a little exertion. Haven&rsquo;t you any ambition? Don&rsquo;t
+you even want to plead in the greatest law court in the world as one of the
+first barristers in Europe?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not particularly. Why should I? It would be no end of a fag. I&rsquo;d
+far rather be left alone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You… you… sluggard,&rdquo; breaking into a laugh. &ldquo;If I were Fate,
+I&rsquo;d just take you by the shoulders and shake you till you woke up. Then
+I&rsquo;d go on shaking to keep you awake. You shouldn&rsquo;t be wasted on
+mere nonentity if I held the threads.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But his blue eyes only smiled whimsically back at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m jolly glad you haven&rsquo;t a say in the matter. Why, I
+should have to give up cricket, and take to working! You&rsquo;re as bad as
+Quin with his slumming, and Dick with his rotten verses.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know yet that I haven&rsquo;t a say in the
+matter,&rdquo; she remarked daringly. &ldquo;Have a cigarette. I&rsquo;m
+awfully sorry I didn&rsquo;t remember sooner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed, you ought to be,&rdquo; was the gay rejoinder. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+been just dying for the moment when you would remember.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An electric bell rang out as they were lighting their cigarettes, and a moment
+later Hal danced into the room with shining eyes and glowing cheeks. A few
+paces from the door she stopped suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, Baby,&rdquo; she said, addressing Hermon, &ldquo;where have you
+sprung from?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I found it wandering alone in Sloane Street,&rdquo; Lorraine remarked,
+&ldquo;and now we&rsquo;ve been teaing together.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer did not look any too pleased at Hal&rsquo;s frank appellation, but
+former remonstrance had only been met with derision, and he knew he had no
+choice but to submit with a good grace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I might ask the same question, Lady-Clerk,&rdquo; he replied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t call me a lady-clerk&mdash;I hate the term. I&rsquo;m a
+typist, secretary, bachelor-girl, city-worker, anything you like, not a
+lady-clerk&mdash;bah!…&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then don&rsquo;t call me Baby.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s face broke into the most attractive of smiles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it. Everything about you, your size, your face, your
+ways just clamour to be called &lsquo;Baby&rsquo;. Of course if you&rsquo;d
+rather be Apollo&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord, no: is that the only alternative?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid so; you needn&rsquo;t go if you don&rsquo;t want
+to,&rdquo; as he prepared to depart. &ldquo;We are not going to talk grown-up
+secrets.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I were Mr. Hermon, I&rsquo;d give you one good shaking, Hal,&rdquo;
+put Lorraine. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you deserve it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a bit. Nothing could do him more good than regular interviews with
+me, to undo all the harm he has received in between from silly, idiotic women,
+who make him think he is something out of the ordinary. Isn&rsquo;t that so,
+Baby? Aren&rsquo;t you labouring under the delusion that you&rsquo;re a
+remarkable fine specimen of humanity? And all the time, Heaven knows,
+you&rsquo;ve about as much honest purpose and brains as a big over-grown
+school-boy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you are not intending to imply he is more richly endowed with
+dishonest purpose?&rdquo; said Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I wouldn&rsquo;t mind that,&rdquo; Hal declared, &ldquo;so long as
+it was energy and purpose of some kind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even to giving you that good shaking,&rdquo; he asked, coming forward a
+step menacingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not in here,&rdquo; in alarm; &ldquo;you and I scrapping in
+Lorraine&rsquo;s drawing-room would cost a hundred pounds or so in valuables.
+I&rsquo;ll cry &lsquo;pax&rsquo;,&rdquo; as he still advanced. &ldquo;Of course
+you are rather a fine boy really, I was only pulling your leg.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon subsided with a laugh, and Hal proceeded to explain that she had come on
+business, having been asked by the editor of one of their small magazines to
+write up an interview with the actress for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall say I found you having a cosy tête-à-tête with a young barrister
+of many inches and little brains,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;Come, Lorraine,
+spout away. What is your favourite <i>hors d&rsquo;œuvre?</i> Did you feel like
+a boiled owl at your first appearance? And which horse do you back for next
+year&rsquo;s Derby?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She started scribbling, to the amusement of the other two, carrying on a
+desultory conversation meanwhile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This isn&rsquo;t anything to do with my department, but I like Mr.
+Hadley, and he was keen about it, and offered me three guineas, so I said
+I&rsquo;do do it… Are your eyes yellow or green? For the life of me, I
+don&rsquo;t know. Which would you rather I called them? … I&rsquo;ve got to go
+to Marlboro&rsquo; House tomorrow to get up a short and vivid account of a
+garden party, because Miss Alton, who generally does it, is down with
+&lsquo;flu&rsquo;. Were you a prodigal as a kid? no; I mean a prodigy… Fancy me
+at Marlboro&rsquo; House! Awful thought, isn&rsquo;t it? How they dare?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is your favourite pastime? Shall I put down shooting? I know you
+don&rsquo;t know one end of a gun from the other, but it doesn&rsquo;t matter;
+and it reads rather well&mdash;something unique about it in an actress.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not put angling, and give some of my dear enemies a chance to ask
+what for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or jam-making,&rdquo; suggested Alymer, &ldquo;and redeem the stage in
+the eyes of the British matron.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t talk… how can I write? Shall I bring myself in, and dig
+up the dear old chestnut of David and Jonathan?… or shall I describe
+Dudley&rsquo;s disapproval melting into undisguised worship,&rdquo; she rippled
+with laughter as she scribbled on. &ldquo;Oh dear, think if Dudley were to find
+it, and read it, because he hasn&rsquo;t even discovered yet that he has ceased
+to disapprove.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s your favourite poet? I might say Dick Bruce; he would write
+a book of poems at once. And Quin might be your hero in real life. Do you know
+where you were born? Up in the Himalayas sounds nice and airy, and it might as
+well have been there as anywhere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you want anymore you must get it while I eat my dinner,&rdquo; said
+Lorraine, rising. &ldquo;I have to try and be at the theatre at seven just now.
+You may as well both dine with me, and you can come to my dressing-room
+afterwards if you like, Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thank you&rdquo;; and Hal pulled a wry face. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen
+quite enough of the wings, and the green-room, and all the rest of it. You
+might take Baby, just to show him the real thing, and put him off it once for
+all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned to Hermon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you ever been behind the scenes? I used to go sometimes, just for
+the fun of it, while it was a novelty; but it quite cured me of any possible
+taste of the stage. Most of the performers were so nervous they could hardly
+speak, their teeth just chattered with cold and fright mingled, and the gloom
+of it was like a vault. And then all the gaping, staring faces in rows, looking
+out of the darkness. You can&rsquo;t think how idiotic people look seen like
+that. It always suggested to me that both stage and stalls were like children
+playing at being lunatics.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only your dreadfully prosaic, unromantic mind, Hal. You
+just like to write newspaper articles, and type letters, and smother your
+imagination under dry-and-dust facts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Smother my imagination,&rdquo; echoed Hal, with a laugh. &ldquo;Why, it
+would take the imaginations of fifty ordinary people to concoct some of the
+paragraphs we fix up during the week. My imagination is a positive goldmine at
+the office, at least it would be if they dare print all that I suggest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You should run a paper yourself,&rdquo; suggested Hermon; &ldquo;a few
+libel actions would made it pay like anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, you haven&rsquo;t seen Dudley,&rdquo; with a little grimace.
+&ldquo;Dudley would have a fit and die before the first action had had time to
+reach its interesting stage. I&rsquo;d take you home to see him now, but he
+happens to have gone up to Holloway to dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m dining out myself, so I must fly.&rdquo; He turned to
+Lorraine, with a gay smile. &ldquo;I say, may I come and dine with you some
+other time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come to the Carlton on Sunday, will you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine hardly knew why she made the sudden decision; she only knew perfectly
+well she would have to break another engagement to keep it, and that she was
+foolishly glad when he accepted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right; you needn&rsquo;t ask me,&rdquo; volunteered Hal,
+as her friend glanced at her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going motoring with Dick, and I
+shall insist upon staying out until ten or eleven. I always try and fill my
+Sundays full of fresh air. &ldquo;Where are you going tonight, Baby?&rdquo; she
+added, with a charmingly impudent smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Albert Hall, with Lady Selon&rdquo;; and a twinkle shone in his
+eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goodness gracious! What in the world are you going to the Albert Hall
+for? and who is Lady Selon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is Soccer Selon&rsquo;s sister-in-law, and she asked me to take her
+to a concert. Is there anything else you would like to know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Her age?&rdquo; archly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Somewhere about thirty-five, I should imagine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! your grandmother, or thereabouts. Well, skip along. Tell Dick to
+call for me early on Sunday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he had said good-bye to Lorraine and departed, Hal held up her hand,
+hanging in a limp fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish you&rsquo;d teach him to shake hands, Lorry. It feels like
+shaking a blind cord and tassel. Are you going to mother him? What an odd idea
+for you to bother with a boy! You surely don&rsquo;t mean to tell me he
+interests you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I like to look at him. He&rsquo;s such a splendid young animal. I
+feel&mdash;oh, I don&rsquo;t know what I feel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lots of London policemen are splendid young animals, but you don&rsquo;t
+want tête-à-tête teas with them if they are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You absurd child! Is there any reason why I shouldn&rsquo;t have tea
+with Mr. Hermon, if it amuses me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;None specially; but if it&rsquo;s just a splendid young animal to look
+at, you want, I daresay it would be safer to import a polar bear from the
+Zoo.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine felt a spot of colour burn in her cheeks, but she only laughed the
+subject aside, and alluded to it no more before they parted at the theatre
+door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only at a late supper-party that night she was quieter than was her wont; and,
+contrary to her habit, one of the first to leave. A well-known rising
+politician, who had been paying her much attention of late, prepared, as usual,
+to escort her home. She wished he would have stayed behind, but had no
+sufficient reason for refusing his company. He taxed her with silence as they
+spun westwards, and she pleaded a headache, wondering a little why all he said,
+and looked, and did, somehow seemed banal and irritating tonight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was so sure of himself, so fashionably blasé, so carelessly clever, so
+daringly frank, with all the finished air of the modern smart man, basking
+callously in the assured fact of his own brilliance and superiority. She knew
+that most women would envy her the attentions of such a one, and that his
+interest was undoubtedly a great compliment, as such compliments go; but
+tonight she found herself remembering all the other women who had reigned
+before her, all those who would presently succeed her, and she was conscious of
+an impatient disgust of all the shallowness and insincerety of the fashionable,
+successful man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I come in?&rdquo; he asked, when they reached the flat, looking
+rather as if he were conferring a favour than soliciting one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; it is too late. Good-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too late!…&rdquo; he laughed a little, and Lorraine felt her temper
+rising. &ldquo;It is not exceptionally late, a little earlier than usual in
+fact. Why mayn&rsquo;t I come in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I don&rsquo;t want you,&rdquo; she said coldly, and she saw him
+bite his lip in swift vexation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall certainly not press you,&rdquo; he retorted, and turned away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the window of her drawing-room Lorraine lingered a few moments, gazin with a
+half-longing expression at the gleam of the lights on the dark flowing river.
+What was it that gave her that strange sense of heartache tonight? Why had her
+usual companions bored and irritated her? Why did Alymer Hermon&rsquo;s fine,
+boyish, refreshing face come so often to her mind?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was certainly not in love with him. The mere idea was ridiculous, but it
+was equally certain that something about him had given rise to this vague
+unrest and longing. Was it perhaps that he called to her mind the youth she had
+never known, the young splendid, whole-hearted years, when it was so easy to
+believe and hope and enjoy that which life had never given her time for?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+True, the world was at her feet now, just as much as it would ever be at his,
+but with what a difference? For her, with the work and stain of the knowledge
+of much evil, and little good. For him, at present, with all the glorious
+freshness of the morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She glanced back into the dim room, and among the shadows she saw him standing
+there again, towering up upon her hearthrug, before her hearth, with that
+youthful, frank assurance that was so attractive. Of a truth he was unspoilt
+yet, unspoilt and splendid as the dawn of the morning&mdash;but for how long?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What would they make of him presently, the women of the world, who must needs
+worship such a man, and strew their charms before him. How was he to keep his
+freshness, when temptation hemmed him in on every side?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt a sudden yearning as of hungry mother-love towards him. If he had been
+her son, her very own son, how she would have fought the whole world to help
+him keep his armour bright, and his colours flying high.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And instead?...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The wave of hungry mother-love was followed by one as of swift and angry
+protest. Who had ever cared whether she kept her armour bright and her colours
+flying high? Had not life itself mocked at her early aspirations, and trampled
+jeeringly on her untutored, unformed high desires? What chance had she ever
+had, long as she might, to keep the morning freshness?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, what of it? She had sought and striven for fame, and fame had come; she
+was a poor creature if she could not look life in the face now, and laugh above
+her wounds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in the meantime perhaps she could help him fight some of those other women
+still; the women who would drag him down for their own satisfaction, and care
+nothing for the hurt to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Anyhow, she would try to be a good pal to him, and not a temptress. For once
+she would fight for some one else&rsquo;s hand instead of her own, and gain
+what satisfaction she could in feeling herself a true friend.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+About the time that the three in the Chelsea flat were leave-taking, a stream
+of women-clerks in the long passages of the General Post Office proclaimed that
+pressure of work had again meant &ldquo;overtime&rdquo; to these energetic
+City-workers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In consequence, there was a lack of elasticity in the many passing feet, and
+the suggestion of a tired silence in the cloak-room; for though the girls
+hastened to get away from the dreary monotony of the huge building, they were,
+many of them, too tired to depart as joyfully as was their wont.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet most of them, behind the tiredness, looked out upon the world with clear,
+capable eyes, and strong, self-reliant faces, that spoke well for the spirit of
+their set. Up there in the big office-rooms, year in year out, these refined,
+well-educated women kept ledgers and accounts and did the general office work
+of the Civil Service with a precision and neatness and correctness equal to the
+work of any men, and invariably to the astonishment of any interested visitor
+who was permitted to inquire into the system.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet the majority of their salaries ranged from &pound;90 a year to &pound;210,
+and they were obliged to pas an examination of no mean stamp to attain a post.
+Small wonder that many of them, having to help support others as well as keep
+themselves, had the delicate, listless, anaemic appearance of underfed women
+badly in need of fresh air, good food, and wholesome exercise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The policy of Great Britain towards her women workers is surely one of the
+greatest contradictions of our enlightened age. Even putting aside the vexed
+question of suffragism, how little has she ever done to try and cope with the
+needs of working womanhood?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In some Government departments, as, for instance, the Army Clothing Department,
+it is a known fact that the women are actually sweated; and that in the higher
+branches, employing gentlewomen, they pay them the lowest possible wage, not
+because the work is ill-done, but because, owing to present conditions, plenty
+of gentlewomen are found to accept the offer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Many of these gentlewomen lose their health in their struggle to obtain good
+food, decent lodging, and a neat appearance on Government salaries, knowing
+full well that the moment they fall out of the ranks numbers will be waiting to
+fill their places.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in the meantime enlightened authors and politicians write articles, and
+make speeches, holding forth upon the charm and beauty of the Home Woman, and
+drawing unflattering comparisons between her and the worker.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Comfortable elderly gentlemen, who have had successful careers and can now
+afford to dine unwisely every night, and keep their daughters in well-dressed
+indolence, self-satisfied, self-aggrandising, self-advertising young
+politicians, who, having obtained an attentive public, delight to cant about
+the rights of the citizen and the good of the Empire, clever, intuitive,
+charming novelists, who apparently possess an unaccountable vein of dense
+non-comprehension on some points&mdash;all harp upon this theme of the Home
+Woman, and the Home Sphere, and the infinite superiority, in their own lordly
+eyes, of the gentle, domesticated scion of the family hearth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As if one-fourth of the women wage-earners, gentle or otherwise, in England
+today had any choice in the matter whatever. The rapidity with which a vacant
+place in the ranks is filled and the numbers waiting for it is surely
+sufficient proof of that; to say nothing of the pitiful conditions under which
+many, gentle and otherwise, cling to their posts long after a merciful fate
+should have given them the opportunity to save the remnants of their shattered
+health amidst country breezes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is useless to cry out to the woman that work and competition with men is
+unbecoming to her. She <i>must</i> work, and she <i>must</i> compete, and
+seeing this, it is surely time the British Government accepted the fact
+magnanimously, and took more definite steps to assure her welfare.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If it can only be done through woman&rsquo;s suffrage, then woman&rsquo;s
+suffrage must surely come, because, whether British legislators care for the
+good of women or not, nature does care, and as the race moves forward the
+working woman will have to be protected.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It has been seen over and over again that no band of politicians, nor powerful
+men, nor tape-bound State can long defy any advancing good for the needs of the
+whole.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Whether women work or not, they are the mothers of the future; and because this
+fact is greater than the sum of all other facts brought forward by the
+narrowness and short-sightedness of men, we may safely believe that, since they
+<i>must</i> work, nature will see to it that they work under the most
+favourable conditions, no matter what rich men have to go the poorer for it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Pity is that the hour is so delayed; that narrowness, and selfishness, and
+self-aggrandisement still flourish, to the eternal cost of those of
+England&rsquo;s mothers who bring weaklings into the world, through the hard
+conditions of their enforced labour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The <i>true patriot</i> of today will agitate not only for the highest
+possible efficiency in the Navy and Army; but, with no less resolve and
+sincerity, for the best possible conditions obtainable for all women-workers,
+that the Empire may not later sink suddenly to decay, in spite of her defences,
+through the impoverished, feeble, sickly off-spring who are all the men she has
+left.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The <i>true patriot</i> will accept the ever-strengthening fact, however
+unpalatable, that the development and emancipation of womanhood has brought
+women to the front as workers, <i>to stay</i>; and he will perceive that
+therefore it is incumbent upon the men to endeavour to find that happy mean,
+where they can work together to the advantage of both, and to the stability and
+greatness of a beloved country.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only now the women-workers toil bravely on, heartening each other with jests
+under conditions in which it is extremely likely men would merely cavil and
+sulk and fill the air with their complainings; dressing themselves daintily
+through personal effort in spite of meagre purses; throwing themselves with a
+splendid joyousness into their few precious days of freedom; banding themselves
+together often and often to wring occasional hours of gaiety from the months of
+toil; keeping brave eyes to the front and brave hearts to the task, while they
+wait steadfastly for the day when their worth shall be appreciated and their
+claims recognised.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hastening to the office in the morning, or hastening home (probably to cook
+their own dinner) at night, they read those clever, carefully worded articles
+and speeches by the men of power and weight, harping upon the charm and beauty
+and superiority of the Home Woman; and they laugh across to each other with a
+frank, rather pitying, rather irritated laughter, at the extraordinary
+dull-wittedness of some brilliant brains.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They wonder gaily how these enlightened, clever gentlemen would like it if they
+all became sweet Home women in the workhouses, cultivating elegant gardens, and
+floating round in flowing gowns at their expense.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The men call them &ldquo;new women&rdquo; with derision, or mannish, or
+unsexed; but those who have been among them, and known them as friends, know
+that they hold in their ranks some of the most generous-hearted, unselfish,
+big-souled women to exist in England today; and that it is just because of
+that they are able to plod cheerfully on, and laugh that indulgent, pitying
+little laugh, when an outraged man swells with virtuous indignation, and waxes
+eloquent upon their want of womanly attributes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of such as the best of these was Ethel Hayward. Among the crowd now hurrying
+more or less tiredly into the open air, she might not have been noticed. So
+many had white faces, dark-circled eyes, shabby-genteel clothing, and just a
+commonplace fairness, that in the throng it was difficult to discover
+distinguishing attributes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One had to see her apart, and note the quick, urgent step, the independent,
+lofty poise of her head, and the steadfastness of the tired eyes, and firm,
+strong mouth, to feel that life had given her a heavy burden, which only a
+noble soul could have supported with heroism.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she left the portals of the General Post Office she hesitated a few seconds
+as to her direction. &ldquo;Should she go straight back to the little flat in
+Holloway, or should she go west, and get the drawing-paper Basil was
+wanting?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris could easily get the drawing-paper the next day, if she chose; and at the
+flat Dudley Pritchard would have arrived for the evening. She surmised hastily
+that it was extremely probable Doris had made some other engagement for herself
+that she would be unwilling to delay, and that Dudley would in no wise regret
+her own tardy return.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The last thought caused her eyes to grow a little strained, as she walked
+quickly westwards&mdash;strained with the determination to face the fact
+unflinchingly, and try to overcome the deep, insistent ache it caused.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the love of a lifetime is not dismissed at will, and looking a little
+pitifully backward, though she was but twenty-eight, Ethel felt she could not
+remember the time when she did not love Dudley Pritchard, though it had perhaps
+only crystallised into the great feature of her life at the time when, in
+silent, heroic endeavour, he had given of all he had to win his friend back to
+life and health.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Dudley&rsquo;s careful savings that he had paid for the great specialist
+and the big operation; Dudley&rsquo;s courage and devotion that had nerved the
+stricken man to take up the awful burden of perpetual invalidism;
+Dudley&rsquo;s never-failing encouragement and friendship that helped him still
+to bear the dreary months of utter weariness, in the little home kept together
+by his sister&rsquo;s salary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+High up in the dreary-looking block of flats in Holloway, attended through the
+day by the erratic ministrations of Doris, and at night by the yearning
+tenderness of Ethel, Basil Hayward dragged out a weary martyrdom, that prayed
+only for release. In vain Ethel murmured over him, that to work for him was a
+glory compared to what it would be to live without him; in the silent, tedious
+hours of her absence, his soul broke itself in hopeless, passionate protest
+against the decree that compelled him to accept his daily bread at the hands of
+the sister he would gladly have striven for day and night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It as a martyrdom across which one can but draw a curtain, and stand
+&ldquo;eyes frontt&rdquo;. Look this way, look that, what answer is there, what
+reason, what explanation, of the hidden martyrdoms of the work-a-day world,
+which the blank wall of heaven seems to regard with utter unconcern?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mankind today is less disposed than ever of yore to calmly fold the hands and
+say, &ldquo;It is the will of God.&rdquo; They can no longer do so honestly
+without either blaming or criticising the Divine Will that not merely permits,
+but is said to send, such martyrdoms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Better surely to accept bravely the enigma of the universe, and strive to
+lessen the suffering in our own little sphere, believing that same Divine Will
+is striving with us to mitigate the ills humanity has brought upon itself
+through blind disobedience and careless indifference to the laws of nature.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Uncomplaining resignation may help by its example, but the resignation which
+sits with folded hands and makes no effort to amend, is only a form of
+feebleness. The strong soul accepts life silently as a field of battle, asking
+for energy, resource, courage, and that fine spirit which obeys the unseen
+general in unquestioning faith.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was only in such a spirit, through those years of pain and mystery, that
+Ethel was able to witness her passionately loved brother&rsquo;s martyrdom, and
+give all the years of her youth to earn that pour salary from a wealthy Empire,
+to keep some sort of a home for the three of them in the little, dingy Holloway
+flat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For even if Doris had been capable of sustained endeavour, the bedridden man
+could not have been left alone for long, and no choice was left them but to eke
+out Ethel&rsquo;s pitiful &pound;110 salary between them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Often perhaps a passionate resentment burned in her heart concerning the heavy
+handicaps under which a woman achieves work equal to a man&rsquo;s; but she had
+no time to lend herself to any open protest, and toiled on, silently fighting
+her individual daily battle the better encouraged by those brave women taking
+all the opprobrium of the warfare upon their own shoulders, for the sake of
+working womanhood as a whole.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only, of late a fresh burden had been added in the fear that Dudley was growing
+to care for her sister Doris.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not that she grudged Doris the happiness, nor the prospect of a home in
+which she and Dudley might together take care of Basil; but she saw ahead the
+tragedy of the awakening, when Dudley learnt of the shallow, selfish little
+heart behind Doris&rsquo;s charming exterior.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That he, of all people, should be drawn to such an one was only the
+contradiction seen on all sides in life. Because he had that old-fashioned
+distrust of the independent, self-reliant woman, he must needs go to the
+opposite extreme, and let himself be drawn to one capable of little else in the
+world but ornamentation. Doris, she knew, was fitted only to be a rich
+man&rsquo;s plaything. Dudley, she felt instinctively, would start off by
+expecting of her things she had never had to give, and in his dismay and
+disappointment might wreck both their lives.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet she felt powerless to take any step that might save them from each other,
+knowing full well that Doris, bored with her life at the flat, had decided that
+even life with Dudley would be better. And even as Ethel hastened westwards,
+instead of towards home, Doris with infinite pains put the finishing touches to
+her pretty hair, and took a last survey of her dainty person before the
+well-known step should sound on the stone staircase outside their unpretentious
+little door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had been very irritable with the invalid, because he was trying to get a
+plan copied quickly, and wanted a special arrangement of light, just when she
+was ready to go and dress after preparing the dinner; but when at last Dudley
+knocked on the door, Doris opened it to him with a face of such charming
+innocence and smiles that irritability would never have been imagined in the
+répertoire of her characteristics. A little helpless, a little childish, she
+might be, but what clever man does not love a clinging woman?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was so nice of you to come,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It is such a
+dreary place to turn out to after your long day at the office.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I love coming,&rdquo; he answered simply. &ldquo;You know I
+do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her with unconscious admiration, and Doris noted for the hundredth
+time that although he was not particularly tall, nor particularly good-looking,
+nor particularly anything, yet his thin, clean-shaven face had a clever,
+distinguished air, and he had unmistakably the cut and breeding of a gentleman.
+She knew that even if he were only moderately well off, and could not afford
+the dash she loved, he was at least good to be seen with, and a man who might
+one day make his mark. So, though she deprecated most of the qualities which
+were in reality his best points, she decided in her calculating little head she
+would seriously contemplate becoming Mrs. Dudley Pritchard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His greeting with the invalid was, for Dudley, a little boisterous&mdash;the
+result of a hint from Ethel. He would probably never have had time to see for
+himself that such a man as Basil Hayward would hate a pitying air or invalid
+manner, but he was sympathetic enough to respond quickly to a suggestion that
+the latest cricket or football news, gaily imparted, was far more pleasing to
+the invalid than a sympathetic inquiry after his health.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Basil Hayward, sufferer and martyr, was prouder of his near relationship to
+a celebrated international cricketer than he would ever had been of his own
+sublime courage had it been lauded to the skies. Life had left him little
+enough, but &ldquo;give me the power still to glory in every manly and athletic
+achievement of my countrymen,&rdquo; was his unspoken request.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they discussed the latest sporting news of the world, and then had a great
+argument on a plan of Dudley&rsquo;s for a competition for a grand-stand and
+pavilion on a celebrated aviation ground, while they waited for Ethel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The small flat had only one sitting-room, and while they talked Doris flitted
+gracefully about, putting the finishing touches to the table. Afterwards she
+sat on a low chair under the lamp, so that the light fell full on her pretty
+hair, while she bowed her head with unwonted industry over a piece of sewing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Occasionally she glanced up at the two men, meeting Dudley&rsquo;s eyes with a
+pretty confiding look that only added to her charm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ethel is so late. I wonder if we had better wait,&rdquo; she said at
+last. &ldquo;She told me on no account to do so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil glanced at the clock a little anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is too bad,&rdquo; he murmured; &ldquo;they have no right to expect
+so much overtime work. She is sure to come soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; but I think she would like us to begin&rdquo;; and Doris rose
+slowly. &ldquo;It will save time when she does come in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was plain Basil disapproved, but she pretended not to see it, and in a short
+time she and Dudley were seated tête-à-tête, while the invalid remained on his
+couch. They were gay from spontaneity of pleasure, and Hal would have been
+surprised at the cheeriness of her grave brother, had she seen how he responded
+to Doris&rsquo;s playful mood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Ethel&rsquo;s key sounded in the door, and it was as though a slight
+shadow fell upon them. Doris wished she had been later still; Dudley seemed to
+grow grave again, from habit, and Basil watched the door like a big devoted
+dog, with eyes of hungry love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she entered her first glance was for him, and her nod and smile ere she
+turned to greet the visitor hid all her own weariness, and was reflected in a
+light of glad welcome on the sick man&rsquo;s face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad you didn&rsquo;t wait,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I
+stayed to get the drawing-paper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why did you, dear?&rdquo; he asked, with quick remonstrance.
+&ldquo;Doris could easily have gone tomorrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I could&rdquo;; and Doris skilfully threw a hurt tone in her
+voice, which Dudley was quick to detect.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to walk,&rdquo; was all Ethel said, as she moved away to take
+off her hat and coat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But in spite of her efforts the gaiety did not return, and Doris grew a little
+pensive and sad.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley, with his surface reasoning, saw in her attitude something that
+suggested the other two were in the habit of being entirely wrapped up in each
+other, to the exclusion of the young sister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel might be a remarkably clever and capable woman; he knew perfectly well
+that she was just as able with her fingers as her brain, and did nearly all the
+upholstering and dressmaking of the household in her evening free time; but
+wasn&rsquo;t she just a little superior and self-satisfied also&mdash;just a
+little unkindly indifferent to the monotony and dullness of her young
+sister&rsquo;s existence?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley found his sympathy go out more and more to those childlike eyes, and the
+pretty, clinging ways; and a sort of half-fledged resentment grew up against
+the elder sister. He could not choose but admire her, if it were only for her
+devotion to her brother, but he felt a vague something, in his thoughts of her,
+that he could not express, and remained grave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel, watching them both covertly while she moved about helping Doris to clear
+away the dinner things, guessed at much that was passing in his mind, and
+unconsciously grew a little strained in her manner to him. That he should pity
+Doris and blame her seemed at last irony, but it could not be helped; and not
+even to win his love could she attempt to change her natural manner, and appear
+what might better please him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She even said &ldquo;good-night&rdquo; a little coldly, and remained beside
+Basil while Doris went out into the tiny hall with him to get his hat and coat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris seemed to Dudley a lonely little figure out there in the dim light, with
+just the suggestion of a droop about her lips and wistfulness in her eyes. He
+believed that she found herself left out in the cold with those other two, but
+was too proud to complain. He felt a tenderness springing up in his heart and
+spreading to his eyes as he leaned towards her with a protecting air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was small and fragile. It made him feel big and protective; and he liked
+it. Hal was so tall and straight and slim and boyish&mdash;not in the least the
+sort of person one could really feel protective to; and he liked clinging
+women… His head bent down quite near to hers as he said in a low tone: &ldquo;I
+suppose they are like lovers, those two, and you feel a little out of it,
+eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes&rdquo;&mdash;confidingly and gratefully&mdash;&ldquo;and it makes
+me very unhappy, because I love to slave for Basil just as much as Ethel does.
+But he does not want me…&rdquo; with a little sad air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I think you are mistaken. It could never be that. It is only that
+they have always been so devoted, and I expect it is too lonely for you here.
+You do not get enough change. Would you care to go to the White City with me on
+Thursday evening?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I should love it!&rdquo; and there was a quick gleam in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, I will arrange it.&rdquo; His hand closed over hers
+lingeringly. &ldquo;Good-bye. Don&rsquo;t be despondent. I will let you know
+where to meet me. We might have dinner at a restaurant first; shall we?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again she expressed her delight, and Dudley went off with a glow of pleasure
+that was a surprise to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But behind the closed door Doris smiled a little smile in the darkness, that
+had none of the artless innocence of the smiles reserved for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ethel would just give her head to go with him,&rdquo; was her first
+thought; and then, &ldquo;I hope he won&rsquo;t go to a cheap
+restaurant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the sitting-room Ethel was putting the last touches to the invalid&rsquo;s
+comfort for the night, moving about busily. Doris leaned against the table, and
+made no attempt to help her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley wants me to go to the White City with him on Thursday evening. I
+said I would.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thursday is the night I have to go and see Dr. Renshaw&rdquo;; and Ethel
+glanced round with a shadow of vexation on her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know it is, but you will not be very late.&rdquo; She paused, then
+added, &ldquo;I do not get so many treats that I can afford to miss one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley could probably have gone any other night. Did you ask him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel spoke a little quickly, and Doris looked ready with a sharp retort, when
+Basil interposed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thursday will be all right, chum. Doris won&rsquo;t leave before six and
+you will get in by half-past seven. I shall have nearly two whole hours in
+which to do any silly thing I like, without getting scolded&rdquo;; and his
+smile was very winsome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like you to have to wait so long for your dinner. You
+always get faint. Perhaps Dr. Renshaw would see me another evening...
+I&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nonsense, chum&rdquo;&mdash;in the same cheery
+voice&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have a tin of sardines, and eat one every ten
+minutes until you come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel let the matter drop, seeing it would please him best, and Doris retired
+to their room with a slightly sulky air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There always seems to be something to damp it if I am to have a
+treat,&rdquo; was her complaint.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think you will feel damped after you start,&rdquo; Ethel
+replied quietly, and they went to bed in silence.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Dudley got back he found Hal waiting up for him, with an expression of
+shining eagerness on her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Dudley, such fun!&rdquo; she began, &ldquo;Lorraine has got the
+royal box for me for Thursday evening. We must have a little dinner-party. Who
+shall we take? It holds four comfortably, and two men could stand at the
+back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thursday evening!&rdquo; looking a little taken aback. &ldquo;I am
+engaged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Engaged! Well, you must put it off. Why didn&rsquo;t you tell me? I
+thought you said you had any night free except Friday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only made the engagement this evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to see Basil again? He won&rsquo;t mind being put
+off.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. It isn&rsquo;t Basil.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley turned away, threw his gloves carelessly down on a sidetable, and picked
+up some letters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked Doris to go to the White City with me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&mdash;you asked Doris to go to the White City?...&rdquo; she
+repeated incredulously. &ldquo;What in the world for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To see it, of course. What else should I ask her for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Heaven only knows! Why ask her at all? I should certainly upset her
+into the canal from sheer irritation if she came with me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such nonsense.&rdquo; He knit his forehead into a decided frown.
+&ldquo;You are so unfair to Doris. You used to complain that I was unfair to
+Lorraine. I was never as unfair as you are now. You don&rsquo;t really know
+Doris at all; and she has never done anything to hurt you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t follow that she wouldn&rsquo;t if she had the chance.
+You&rsquo;re so awfully dense about women, Dudley. Why didn&rsquo;t you invite
+Ethel instead? She is worth a hundred Dorises. Then we could have taken her to
+the theatre.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His voice and manner grew very cold.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t agree with you, but it is not a subject I care to discuss.
+Is there any reason why Doris should not be invited to the theatre?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;None whatever, except that I don&rsquo;t propose to ask her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They faced each other a moment almost angrily, except that whereas Dudley was
+distinctly vexed, Hal was a little scornful, and half-laughing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I cannot come either, and&rdquo;&mdash;he paused a moment, to add
+with decision&mdash;&ldquo;I object to your going unchaperoned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean that you wish me to give up the box?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know what I mean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was thoughtful a moment, and then remarked with sudden glee:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know what I&rsquo;ll do. I&rsquo;ll take the Three Graces, and
+persuade Quin&rsquo;s aunt to come as chaperone. Then we&rsquo;ll all have
+supper with Lorraine afterwards. You shall have a nice, quiet, interesting
+evening with Doris, and I&rsquo;ll get two stalls for you for another
+night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She moved about, gathering up her things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know Quin&rsquo;s aunt, Lady Bounce, do you? She&rsquo;s
+the dearest old soul, and she loves a theatre. Night-night, old boy;
+don&rsquo;t keep Doris too long near the canal, in case you are taken with my
+inclination&rdquo;; and she went gaily off, humming a popular air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley read through his letters without grasping any of their contents. For the
+first time Hal&rsquo;s attitude to Doris seriously worried him, and he felt
+vaguely there was trouble ahead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when Thursday came, and they were together, she again had the same pleasing
+effect upon his senses, and he let himself be persuaded that if Hal grew to
+know her better, she could not choose but grow fond of her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime a group in the royal box at the Greenway Theatre was causing no
+small interest to a crowded house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was Hal, with her smart, well-groomed air, gleaming white neck and arms,
+and her white, even teeth that looked so attractive even in the distance when
+she smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick Bruce, spruce and scholarly, hugely pleased with himself, because he had
+an article in <i>The National Review</i>, on the strength of the colonies in
+war time; and some lines entitled &ldquo;Baby&rsquo;s Boredom&rdquo; in
+<i>Fireside Chat</i>, concerning which he had already announced his intention
+of standing the champagne for their supper with the cheque.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of the other two occupants it would be difficult to say which attracted the
+most attention. Alymer Hermon, with his immense stature and splendid head, or
+Quin&rsquo;s aunt, Lady Bounce, who presented so striking a resemblance to
+another well-known little old lady sometimes seen at the theatre, that friends
+of the last-mentioned were utterly puzzled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Surely only one little lady in London wore that early Victorian dress, with the
+ringlets and &ldquo;grande dame&rdquo; air, and sat with such genuine delight
+and enjoyment through a play? And yet why did she not look out for her numerous
+friends, down there in the stalls, and recognise them?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And who in the world was she with? If that were indeed Lady Phyllis
+Fenton&mdash;and it seemed incredible it should not be&mdash;who was the
+splendid young giant, and who the white-faced girl with the brilliant smile?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And all the time, absorbed in the play and her companions, the little old lady
+smiled and talked, calmly indifferent to the many eyes below waiting for the
+expected bow of recognition.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quin, apparently, had not been willing to desert his slummers for a gay
+West-end theatre; so Hal was only escorted by two Graces instead of three, but
+the light in her eyes, for any one near enough to see, suggested she was
+enjoying herself to the utmost in spite of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came the final sensation, of the little old lady in her strange costume
+and ringlets, passing through the vestibule, on the arm of the young giant,
+followed by the sleek-looking, well-groomed pair of cousins, who chatted to
+each other with an air of the utmost unconcern towards the curious glances now
+levelled at them upon all sides.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It <i>must</i> be Lady Phyllis Fenton,&rdquo; said some. &ldquo;It
+<i>can&rsquo;t</i> be,&rdquo; said others. &ldquo;Then who the devil is
+it?&rdquo; asked the men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And still the little group passed on, smiling and unconcerned, though a red
+spot burned in the giant&rsquo;s smooth cheeks, and he carefully avoided any
+possibility of meeting Hal&rsquo;s gleaming eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A roomy electric brougham was awaiting them, and then the watchers said it
+glided away: &ldquo;Surely that is Lady Phyllis&rsquo;s car and
+liveries?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But what they would have made of the scene inside the car it is difficult to
+say, for the dear little old lady suddenly collapsed backwards on her seat,
+with a howl of laughter, and shot into the air a pair of trousered legs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh my conscience!&rdquo; gasped Quin, amid choking laughter. &ldquo;It
+will be the sensation of the season; and when Aunt Phyllis gets to hear about
+it she&rsquo;ll first have a fit with wrath and then laugh until she&rsquo;s
+ill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d no idea you were such an actor, Quin,&rdquo; Hal exclaimed
+admiringly when she could speak; &ldquo;you ought be holding crowded houses
+enthralled, instead of slumming.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Heaven preserve me. Theatres are mostly mummies looking at mummies. Down
+east I get in touch with flesh and blood&mdash;the real thing; and I prefer it.
+But I wouldn&rsquo;t have missed tonight for something. Oh, lord!... just
+think of the people who know Aunt Phyllis that I must have cut; and all the
+fuss there will be when aunt is admonished for supping at the Savoy with an
+actress! We aren&rsquo;t half through the fun yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With which they all went off into fresh peals of laughter, at various
+reminiscences, and were bordering upon a condition of imbecility when Lorraine
+at last joined them with the latest news.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s positively immense,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The manager told
+me Lady Phyllis Fenton had come with Miss Pritchard, and tomorrow every paper
+will announce it, and the mystery will grow. I &rsquo;phoned for a private room
+at the Savoy, to keep the puzzle up. She must only be seen passing through on
+Mr. Hermon&rsquo;s arm. How splendid they must look. I almost wish I
+wasn&rsquo;t in the secret.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, they do!&rdquo; Hal cried. &ldquo;Alymer ought to have had knee
+breeches and silk stockings, and they would look just perfect. I have to talk
+fast to Dick, or I should give it all away in my face.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to settle with your aunt,&rdquo; Lorraine laughed to
+Quin. &ldquo;I hope she won&rsquo;t cut you off with a shilling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She will be furiously angry and terrifically interested,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I expect I shall have to take you all to dinner to show her what the
+party looked like. Of course, Bonne, her maid, will give it away, because I
+borrowed the garments from her, and said they were for a play I was getting up
+in the East End.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have a bad half-hour with Dudley,&rdquo; Dick remarked to
+Hal, with enjoyment. &ldquo;He is sure to hear of it somewhere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite sure,&rdquo; resignedly; &ldquo;but if it were a bad two hours it
+would still have been worth it. It reminds me of the old days at school,
+Lorraine, when we used to get into scrapes on purpose, if the fun made it worth
+while.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was no gayer supper party in the Savoy that night, and the champagne paid
+for with the proceeds of &ldquo;Baby&rsquo;s Boredom&rdquo; proved none the
+less vivifying for the insipidity of its source. Dick insisted upon reciting
+his doggerel, and Quin was not only much toasted as &ldquo;Lady Bounce&rdquo;,
+but carried kicking round the room by the giant, because in a moment of
+forgetfulness he used a swear-word, which they all insisted was a reflecton
+upon the conversation of his illustrious aunt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine, in most amusing form herself, laughed until she was tired out, and
+wondered why she was not bored. She asked the question of Alymer Hermon, who
+was privileged to see her home, while Dick returned with Hal, and Quin beat a
+hasty retreat to get rid of his disguise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After all, you are only boys,&rdquo; she said, with a little smile,
+&ldquo;and I&rsquo;m... well, I&rsquo;m Lorraine Vivian.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The giant gazed thoughtfully out of the brougham window a moment, and from her
+corner Lorraine looked long, and a little sadly, at the finely modelled head
+and profile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; he said at length, &ldquo;a great many people you meet
+make a special effort to please you, and try to make an impression on you. We
+being all so young, and just nobodies, realise the uselessness of wasting our
+efforts, and are merely natural.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled in the shadow, and glanced away from him with the sadness deepening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I feel tonight I should like to be one of you&mdash;so young and just
+nobody. It would be a pleasant change.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think you would like it at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her with a slightly puzzled air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only the other day you were speaking to me of achievement and ambition.
+You seemed to care so much. You must be glad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh yes, yes,&rdquo; wearily; &ldquo;but it isn&rsquo;t enough by itself.
+There is something I have missed, and tonight I feel that it might outweight
+all the rest&mdash;something to do with being young, and careless, and fresh,
+and just nobody.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still looking at her with slightly puzzled, very kindly eyes, he answered
+simply, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so sorry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She seemed to shrink away suddenly into her corner. The very simplicity of his
+sympathy, and the quiet, natural friendliness in his face, stirred some strange
+chord in her heart with a swift, unaccountable ache. He looked so big and
+strong and splendid there in the shadow, with his freshness and his charm; and
+she felt very brain-fagged and world-weary; and without in the least knowing
+why, or what led up to the desire, she wanted to feel his arms about her, and
+his freshness soothing her spirit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And instead he was not even attempting to make love to her, not even flirting
+with her. Would any other man she knew have ridden beside her thus after the
+gentleness she had shown? Was that perhaps the very secret of his attraction?
+Or was it a physical allurement&mdash;the irresistible charm of bigness and
+strength, independent of anything else, drawing with its time-old sway?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had no time to probe further, as the brougham stopped at her door. He
+handed her out with the deference so often met with in big men, remarking with
+an old-fashioned air that suited him to perfection:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid we have all tired you very much. It was good of you to
+come with us. I can&rsquo;t tell you how much we appreciate it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, indeed no; you refreshed me. Good-night. Stevens will run you home.
+Don&rsquo;t forget Sunday&rdquo;, and she moved away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It must be his bigness,&rdquo; was her last thought as her head touched
+the pillow. &ldquo;When I am used to it, no doubt the novelty will pass, and I
+shall find him merely boyish, and be rather bored.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if it is her dainty smallness,&rdquo; Dudley was musing, away
+in his Bloomsbury lodging, feeling still, with a pleasant thrill, the touch of
+Doris&rsquo;s small hand on his arm, and seeing again the upward, confiding
+expression in her wide blue eyes. &ldquo;Odd that Hal should be so far astray
+in her judgment, when she is usually so clever; but if she knew her better she
+would change her mind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As for Hal herself, she hastily tumbled into bed, still chuckling in huge
+enjoyment over her evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Those boys are just dears,&rdquo; was her thought, &ldquo;and I
+wouldn&rsquo;t have missed Lady Bounce for the world. What a good thing Dudley
+was taken with paternal affection for that little fool Doris, and I had to have
+a chaperone. Heigh-ho! what a scene there will be if he hears about it; but
+what&rsquo;s the odds so long as you&rsquo;re happy? And oh dear! what will
+Lady Phyllis Fenton say when she finds out&rdquo;; and once more the even teeth
+flashed an irresistible smile into the darkness.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was force of habit chiefly that caused Lorraine, as a rule, to sleep long
+and late on Sunday mornings; and it was greatly to her advantage that for so
+many months, and even years, no mental anxiety had robbed her of a splendid
+capacity to rest. She seemed to have a faculty for limiting her worrying hours
+to the daylight, and being able to lay them aside, like her correspondence, at
+night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet on the following Sunday morning she found herself early awake, with a brain
+only too ready to begin probing restlessly, and having little of the calm
+friendliness she intended it should have towards her guest of the evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To add to her unrest, her mother paid her an early visit, of a sort that had
+been growing too frequent of late. It was not enough that Lorraine paid her
+rent, and gave her a handsome allowance; when there chanced to be no one else
+to pay her debts, these came upon Lorraine&rsquo;s shoulders also.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+T-day it was a long, rambling tale of a hard-hearted dressmaker who, having had
+a new frock back for alteration, had taken upon herself to return the skirt,
+without the bodice, with an intimation that she was retaining the delayed
+portion until her long account was settled. Hence Mrs. Vivian found herself
+with what she called a most important engagement, without the equally important
+new frock to go in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine lay under the bedclothes, with only her head showing, and watched her
+a little coldly, as she moved restlessly about the room airing her woes. She
+had promised Madame Luce, over and over again, to settle in a week or two; and
+who would have believed the odious woman would serve her such a trick?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never again, if she had to go naked, would she order a garment from her of any
+description whatever. And the friends she had sent to her as customers! Why,
+half the woman&rsquo;s trade was owing to her introduction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps the friends don&rsquo;t pay their bills,&rdquo; Lorraine
+suggested in a tired voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Vivian drew herself up a little haughtily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not think there is any occasion to cast reflections on my friends,
+even if you do not choose to be sociable to them,&rdquo; which remark was
+intended as a dignified hit at Lorraine&rsquo;s invincible determination to
+maintain friendly relations with her mother, without having anything whatever
+to do with her mother&rsquo;s friends.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As many previous hits, it fell quite harmlessly; it was doubtful if Lorraine
+even heard it, half hidden there in the bedclothes with her tired eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it isn&rsquo;t any use reminding you that your personal
+expenditure exceeds mine?&rdquo; she hinted, &ldquo;and that you have already
+far overstepped the allowance we stipulated?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do not have time to go about as much as I do, and it makes a great
+difference not having hosts of friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t seem to get much pleasure out of them,&rdquo; Lorraine
+could not resist saying, knowing as she did how much of her salary went into
+the pockets of these so-called friends, in order to buy their adherence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do I get much pleasure out of anything?&rdquo; irritably. &ldquo;My only
+child is one of the first actresses in London, and what is it to me? Do I have
+the pleasure of going about with her? or living with her? or taking any part
+in her success?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it isn&rsquo;t such a small thing to live by her. If I were
+not successful, we could certainly not live here. It might have been Islington
+and omnibuses,&rdquo; and she smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As if that were all. Probably, as real companions we might have been
+even happier in Islington.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine stiffened. &ldquo;Companions!… Ah, I, with whom else ever dancing
+attendance, and changing in identity every few months?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she made no comment, for the days of her hot-headed, deep-hearted judging
+were over; and from behind inscrutable eyes she looked upon the things that one
+sees without seeming to see them, and accepted facts that hurt her very soul,
+with a callous, cynical air that defied the keenest shafts of probing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was her armour in an envious, merciless world, that would have rejoiced
+before her eyes if it could have driven in a barbed arrow even through her
+mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+More than once a jealous enemy had tried and failed, routed utterly by
+Lorraine&rsquo;s cynical, cool treatment of a fact that she knew no persuasion
+nor arguing could have helped her to refute. She did not even weep about it now
+in secret.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was as though she had shed all the tears she had to shed during that year of
+utter revulsion spent in the Italian Riviera, companied by the passionless
+solitudes of snowtopped mountains. Something of a great patience and a great
+gentleness had come to her then, helping her to hide the loathing she could not
+crush, and place the fact of motherhood first of all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As her mother, she had taken Mrs. Vivian back into her heart, and given her
+generously of what worldly possessions she had. And she had done it with a
+wondrous quiet and absence of all ostentation either outwardly or inwardly. It
+had never occured to Lorraine that, whether it was a duty or not, after what
+had passed it was certainly a fine act upon her part.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had not questioned about it at all. To her mother&rsquo;s apologetic gush
+she had merely turned calm eyes and a strong face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t worth while to remember the past at all,&rdquo; she had
+said; &ldquo;we will just begin again on rather different lines. I&rsquo;ll
+always let you have as much money as I can spare.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Vivian had been a little taken aback by the new Lorraine who returned from
+Italy; and not a little afraid before the calm, inscrutable eyes; so that she
+had secretly rejoiced at the arrangement which gave her a separate
+establishment of her own; but none the less, in bursts of righteous indignation
+supposed to emanate from her outraged feelings as a mother, she usually chose
+to make it her pet grievance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And still Lorraine only smiled the tired smile, and glanced carelessly aside
+with the inscrutable eyes until the tirade was over, the coveted cheque made
+out, and her own little sanctum once again in peaceful possession.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only just occasionally, if the interview had been specially trying, she might
+have been seen afterwards to glance whimsically across to the picture, recently
+enlarged from an old photograph, of a fine-looking man in full hunting-rig
+standing beside a favourite hunter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor old dad,&rdquo; she murmured once; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t wonder you
+couldn&rsquo;t keep up the old place. I don&rsquo;t know how you got along at
+all without my salary.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once when she was feeling the drag of it all a little keenly she told the man
+in the picture: &ldquo;Mother is splendidly handsome, and I daresay I owe her a
+good deal; but thank God you were there with your fine old name and family to
+give me the things that matter most. It sometimes seems as if we had got each
+other still, dad, and, for the rest, some are frail in one way and some
+another, and fretting doesn&rsquo;t help any one.&rdquo; The fine eyes had
+grown more whimsically wistful looking into the face of the huntsman as she
+finished: &ldquo;Anyhow, the last favourite is second cousin to a duke, and she
+pointed out to me, he might have been only a butcher.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How much Hal knew of her mother&rsquo;s life Lorraine had never been able to
+gauge, but she had reason to think she knew something and was sporting enough
+to pretend otherwise. If so, she blessed her for it, feeling that by that
+generous non-acknowledgment she rendered a service both to her and her dead
+father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet it seemed strange that any one so young and fresh as Hal should be able to
+act thus, instead of suffering a violent repulsion. Was it the depth of her
+splendid friendship; or was it a naturally adaptable, common-sense nature; or
+was it non-comprehension?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As time passed and she grew to know Hal yet better, she felt instinctively it
+was the first of these, coupled with that true sportsman-spirit which was one
+of her strongest attributes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was not the only one who felt that whether Hal had any religion or
+not, or any faith, through good and ill, by easy paths and difficult, one might
+be absolutely sure that she would &ldquo;play the game.&rdquo; It made her feel
+herself richer with her one friend than with her mother&rsquo;s admitted hosts,
+and though she seemed to hesitate and reason on that Sunday morning, both knew
+the cheque would finally be written, and the coveted garment rescued in time
+for the important lunch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only, afterwards, a shadow seemed to linger today that heretofore would have
+vanished with the departing figure. The sunshine crept through the drawn
+curtains, lying like a shaft of hope across the gloom, but it brought no
+answering gleam into the beautiful eyes, with their tired, far-off gaze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was all very well for Hal to be a main feature in her life, blessing it with
+her friendship, while she turned kindly, unseeing eyes away from the corners
+where the murky shadows lay: Hal, who knew about the mad, discreditable
+marriage and its violent termination, and probably also of her mother&rsquo;s
+insatiable thirst for admiration and excitement at any cost.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was something about Hal in herself that was as a shining armour, against
+which unkind barbs fell harmlessly, and enabled her to go on her serene and
+joyful way in blissful non-attention.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But could it be the same with this treasured only son, who was doubtless
+destined for a high place in the world by doting parents, and other proud
+bearers of the same old name? Of course he might sup and trifle with certain
+denizens of the theatrical world galore; it would only be part of his
+education, and a thing to wink at, but she already doubted whether such a
+slight companionship would have any attraction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In spite of his youthfulness, there was something in him that would naturally
+and quickly respond to the fine shades in herself, and grow into a friendship
+that had no part with the casual, gay acquaintanceships of the theatre and the
+world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a sense he was like Hal, and she knew that just as she attracted Hal&rsquo;s
+devotion in spite of all disparity of years and circumstances, so, if she
+chose, she could make this young giant more or less her slave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But was it worht it?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What did she, on her high pedestal, want with his young admiration? What did
+she want with a companion so undeveloped that she herself must awaken his
+strongest forces?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Through the gloom, unheeding the shaft of sunlight, she saw him again, towering
+up there on her hearth, with his young splendour, so extraordinarily unspoilt
+as yet; and she knew that, reasonable or unreasonable, she was attracted far
+beyond her wont.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then she thought of his easy-going temperament, his lack of ambition, his
+half-sleepy attitude towards life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What if the wheels ran so smoothly for him that the latent forces were never
+aroused, and little achieved of all that might be?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If love came at his asking, and a sufficiency of success to satisfy an
+easy-going nature, what would there ever be to stir depths which she truly
+believed were worth stiring? Was it so small a thing to help a fine soul
+forward to its best attainment?... was such an aim not worth some going aside
+for both?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt there were things she could teach him, which without her he might
+entirely miss; and if without her he were the better according to a
+conventional standard, he might yet be far the poorer in the big, deep things
+of life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, no doubt circumstances would end by suiting themselves, with or without
+her agency. In the meantime why worry, in a world that it would seem worked out
+its own ends, sublimely indifferent to the individual?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were going to dine together tonight anyhow; their first tête-à-tête
+dinner and evening: time enough to probe and worry when she was more sure a
+mutual attraction existed; wiser at present to seek a counter attraction for
+her own sake, that she might not uselessly build a castle without foundations.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Prompt as ever, she reached out for the receiver beside her bed and rang up the
+Albany to know if Lord Denton were awake yet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not awake,&rdquo; came back a sleepy answer. &ldquo;I am
+asleep, and dreaming of Lorraine Vivian. If my man wakes me now, I shall curse
+him solidly for half an hour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, will you dream you are going to take her for a spin into the
+country shortly? I happen to know she is fainting for the longing to breathe
+country air.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In my dream I am already waiting at her door, with the Yellow Peril
+spluttering its heart out with delight, and eagerness to be off. I have even
+dreamt she managed to put a motor bonnet on in half-an-hour&mdash;is it
+conceivable&mdash;or should it be half a day?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, your dream is right. Be outside the door in half an hour, and you
+will see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An hour later they were spinning out into Surrey at an alarming pace, both
+silently revelling in the freshness and motion and the fact that they were too
+old friends to need to trouble about conversation. When they dived into the
+lanes he slowed down, remarking:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose we mustn&rsquo;t risk scrunching any one up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine only smiled, remaining silent a little longer, and then she suddenly
+asked him:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When you feel yourself inclined to fall in love foolishly what do you
+do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well… as a rule…&rdquo; he began slowly and humorously, &ldquo;I either
+cut and run, or I hurry to see so much of her that I am bound to get
+bored.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The first plan sounds the safest, but would often be the most difficult
+of execution. Supposing the second miscarries and you don&rsquo;t get
+bored?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then I think&mdash;usually&mdash;there is an awful moment when I
+have to tell her I can&rsquo;t afford both a motor and a wife; and to be
+motorless would kill me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sudden little twitching at the corners made Lorraine&rsquo;s mouth
+dangerously fascinating.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Evidently you have never fallen in love with me,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;for you have not been driven to either way of escape.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked into her face with an answering humour, and a twinkle in his eyes as
+alluring as her smilling lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because when I fell in love with you I did it sensibly, and not
+foolishly,&rdquo; was his answer; &ldquo;instinct told me I couldn&rsquo;t have
+you for my wife however much I wished it, so I said myself: &lsquo;Flip, old
+boy, she&rsquo;ll make a thundering good pal, you close with it,&rsquo; and I
+did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made no comment, and he went on more seriously:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see, even if you became marriageable and I cut out the motor, you
+wouldn&rsquo;t be attracted to an ordinary sort of cove like me. I suit you
+down to the ground as a pal, but it wouldn&rsquo;t go any farther.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder why you think that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t exactly <i>think</i> it&mdash;thinking is too much
+bother&mdash;but it&rsquo;s just there, like a commonplace fact. You are all
+temperament, and high-strung nerves, and soul, and enthusiasm, and that sort of
+thing, which makes you a great actress. I&rsquo;m just a two-legged, superior
+sort of animal, who hasn&rsquo;t much brain, but knows what he likes, and
+usually does it without wasting time on pros and cons. Consequently, I&rsquo;m
+just as likely to end in prison as anywhere else, and take it without much
+concern as all in the day&rsquo;s work. You are more likely to end in a
+nunnery, as the most devout of all the nuns.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What an odd idea! Why a nunnery?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, because it&rsquo;s an extreme of one sort or another, and you are
+made for extremes. You&rsquo;ll perhaps be very wicked first&rdquo;&mdash;he
+smiled delightfully&mdash;&ldquo;after which, of course, you&rsquo;d have to be
+very good. It&rsquo;s the way you&rsquo;re made. I&rsquo;m cut out on quite a
+different plan. I can&rsquo;t be &lsquo;very&rsquo; anything, unless it&rsquo;s
+very drunk after the Oxford and Cambridge at Lord&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think I could be very wicked?&rdquo; She asked the question with
+a thoughtfulness that amused him greatly, and he answered at once:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t a doubt of it. You are probably plotting the particular
+form of wickedness at this very moment.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She laughed, and he went on in the same serio-comic mood:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I quite envy you. It must be very thrilling to think to oneself,
+&lsquo;I&rsquo;ve dared to be desperately wicked.&rsquo; You cease to be a
+nonentity at once and become a force. You get right to hand-grips with the big
+elemental things. Of course that is interesting, but it usually means a
+confounded lot of bother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are as bad as Hal Pritchard. She announced the other day she would
+rather have a dishonest purpose than no purpose at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the same idea, only Miss Pritchard lives up to her creed by
+being full of energy and purpose; whereas I can&rsquo;t be anything but a
+mediocre waster. I&rsquo;ve neither the pluck to be wicked, not the energy to
+be good, nor enough purpose to regret it. I believe I&rsquo;m best described as
+an aristocratic &lsquo;stiff&rsquo;, a &lsquo;stiff&rsquo; being a person who
+spends his life trying to avoid having to do things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fill a niche all the same,&rdquo; he finished, &ldquo;because I make
+such an excellent foil for the other chaps, who like to pride themselves on
+their superiority and hard work. It&rsquo;s nice for them to be able to say
+contemptuously, &lsquo;Look at Denton,&rsquo; and it&rsquo;s nice for me to be
+able to feel I&rsquo;m of some use, without the bother of making an
+effort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are certainly quite incorrigible as an idler, if that can be called
+a purpose, and, Flip, don&rsquo;t change; I love you for it; you are one of the
+most restful things I have ever known.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced into her face with a keenness that somewhat belied his professed
+incapacity to be in earnest, and remarked with seeming lightness:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Feeling a bit down on your luck, eh? Are you thinking of falling in love
+foolishly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m thinking of trying to guard against doing so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ought not to find it difficult. Crowd him out with other
+admirers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems as if he were going to do the crowding out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, is he so big?&rdquo; jocularly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s six foot five-and-a-half of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whew! And thin as a lathe, I suppose; a sort of animated telegraph
+pole.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; broad in proportion, cut to measure absolutely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he is a fine fellow,&rdquo; with conviction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine felt a swift glow of pride, and then inwardly admonished herself for
+being silly. What, after all, was size? As Hal had trenchantly remarked, plenty
+of London policemen were just as big and fine. Half in self-defence she added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has brains as well, and he is as handsome as Apollo.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then run,&rdquo; was the laconic response; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t stop to
+buy a ticket; pay the other end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled, but grew suddenly serious. Leaning forward with eyes straining hard
+to the horizon, she said: &ldquo;Flip, I&rsquo;ve had a hard life, in spite of
+the success. Shall I run?... or... shall I stay, and snatch joy, while there is
+still time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her with a growing interest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I were you I should run,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but, all the same, I
+think you&rsquo;ll stay.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I don&rsquo;t think I shall. There are other reasons. He is a good
+deal younger than I&mdash;and&mdash;well, I&rsquo;ve a fair amount on my soul
+already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The tired shadow was coming back to her eyes, but she laughed suddenly with an
+attempt at gaiety.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ought to have heard Hal Pritchard on the subject. She remarked there
+were plenty of London policemen just as big, and suggested if I wanted a fine
+young animal to play with, I should be safer with a polar bear from the
+Zoo.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well done, Hal. We ought to have brought her. Where is she
+today?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Careering across England in a haphazard fashion with her cousin Dick
+Bruce. Do you mind turning towards home now? I&rsquo;m dining out, and have
+some letters to write.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s the happy man tonight?... I thought of course I was to
+have the whole day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With a view to getting wholesomely bored! No, Flip, I don&rsquo;t
+propose to let you find that way out just yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should have found it for myself long ago if it were possible. As it
+is, I have grown resigned, and accept what crumbs fall to my portion.&rdquo; He
+paused a moment and then asked, &ldquo;Is it Goliath tonight?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rash woman; and just when I have advised you to run.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it is not in the least serious yet. I only asked you in view of it
+becoming so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which means you will try and start to run, <i>after</i> you are firmly
+in the trap.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. I won&rsquo;t go near the trap. I&rsquo;ll tell him
+I&rsquo;m old enough to be his mother, and talk down to him from years of
+detestable common sense and sagacity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which sounds as if it would be even duller than dining with me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no. It holds novelty anyway. You are never dull, but likewise you are
+no longer novel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They made for the high roads again, and spun along mostly in silence until the
+car once more came to a standstill at Lorraine&rsquo;s door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve lots of time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; with a little smile. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had my crumbs for the
+day. I&rsquo;m going to have a good solid crust now to keep the balance. Do you
+know Lottie Bird?… Fourteen stone, if she&rsquo;s an ounce, and a tongue like a
+sixty-horse-power motor. There are times when she&rsquo;s so damned practical
+and overpowering she does me good. This is one of them. Good-bye. Don&rsquo;t
+kill the giant with a glance; and don&rsquo;t be silly enough to get hurt
+yourself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right. I&rsquo;ll go in full armour,&rdquo; and she nodded gaily
+enough as he moved off down the street.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<p>
+What Lorraine exactly meant by full armour she did not quite know, but it might
+very well have been taken to mean the shining armour of her own best
+loveliness. Certainly after no small consideration she chose what she believed
+to be her most becoming gown, and she was unusually critical about the dressing
+of her hair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All the same, at 7.45 she was ready, and her cavalier had not yet arrived. She
+waited five minutes until he came, and then it was necessary to wait another
+five minutes that he might not know she had been more up to time than he. Then
+she entered the drawing-room in a little bit of a hurry, and cut short his
+simple, direct apologies by regretting her own tardiness, and saying she had
+been out motoring until late.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she had time to note quickly that he also had dressed himself with special
+care, plastering down resolutely the unruly determination of his fair hair to
+curl. That was good. Any suggestion of a curl must have produced an effect of
+effeminacy, whereas that neat, plastered wave showed the shapeliness of his
+head, and gave him a touch of manly decision. Her electric brougham was at the
+door, but she kept it waiting a few minutes, that they might be later than the
+majority of diners, and pass up a well-filled room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the end their arrival was equal to her best expectations. She led the way
+slowly, with a queenly grace that was one of her best attributes; but as she
+nodded casually to an acquaintance here and there, she had plenty of time to
+observe the curious eyes from all around, looking with undisguised admiration,
+not so much at her faultless appearance, which was more or less known, but at
+her striking cavalier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had engaged a small table at one of the top corners and arranged the seats
+sideways, so that both could look over the room if they wanted to, and at the
+same time be easily seen by others. She did this because it amused her to see
+people gazing at him, and to watch his quiet self-possession. She almost
+wondered if he even realised how much attention he attracted, but perceived
+that he could hardly help doing so, though he took it all with so simple and
+unabashed an air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She watched also to see if, as most of the strikingly handsome men she had
+known, he courted tell-tale glances from other eyes, and sipped honey from any
+flower within reach, as well as from his own particular flower. And when she
+found that his absolute and undivided attention was given to her, and that all
+the power of entertaining he could muster was called into her service, she felt
+a glow of gratitude to him that he had not disappointed her, but proved himself
+the simple, high-bred gentleman she longed to find him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It made her show herself to him at her very best. Not showily witty, nor
+callously gay, nor fashionably original, but just her own self of light humour
+and dainty speech and kindly sympathy, the true, best self that held
+Hal&rsquo;s unswerving devotion through good account and ill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Unconsciously she left the time-worn paths of beauty and success, and became
+young, and fresh, and whole-hearted as he; tackling abstruse problems with a
+childlike, vigorous air; holding him spell-bound with her own charm of
+conversation one moment, and leading him on to talk with ease and frankness the
+next.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The other diners got up and retired to the lounge, and still they sat on; no
+hint of boredom, no note of disparity, no need of other companionship. As they
+were preparing to rise, she told him lightly that he talked amazingly well for
+his tender years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only twenty-four,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;it does seem a kiddish age,
+doesn&rsquo;t it!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dreadfully kiddish. It makes me feel old enough to be your
+grandmother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced up, half-questioning, half-deprecating.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That would be the oddest thing of all, unless I really appear to be
+about twenty years before my time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a reason she could not have fathomed, she looked into his eyes with a
+sudden seriousness and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thirty-two last week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She saw a quick look of surprise he did not attempt to hide, followed by a very
+charming smile, as he asserted:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is impossible. You could not sit there and look like that if you were
+thirty-two.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The impossible is so often the true. I&rsquo;m glad you don&rsquo;t
+think I seem old. It is nice to believe one can keep young at heart, in spite
+of the years. Shall we go to the lounge?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again they moved through the admiring crowd, but this time Lorraine felt less
+idle interest and more inward wonder; and without any misgiving she steered to
+a quiet alcove, where they could talk without again being the cynosure of many
+eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here, in a pleasant, friendly way, she led him once again to talk of the
+future, and was glad to find, in answering sincerity with sincerity, he was
+ready to admit that he was a little sorry about his own lack of ambition and
+want of application. He did not pretend now that it was of no moment. He told
+her he would like to achieve, only somehow he always found his attention wander
+to other things, and his desire grow slack after a week of rigid application.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She recognised that the motive-power was missing, and that unless something
+deeper than mere desire of achievement stirred him, he would probably never
+attain. He needed a goal that should make everything else in the world pale
+before it, and something that seemed almost as life and death to hang on his
+success. But how get it for him? If he loved, and was bidden wait until he had
+prospered, the end was all too sure and the love too easy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was something different that was needed; something that would bring him up
+with dead abruptness against a blank wall, and leave him with a taste of life
+that was dust and ashes unless he found a way through. Either that or some
+sweet, wild, unattainable desire, that might drive him to work and ambition by
+way of escape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And there again, where should he encounter such a desire? One had only to look
+into his calm, fine face to feel that the unattainable in the form of love,
+barred by marriage vows as lightly made as broken, would never stir the depths
+of his heart, nor appeal to his real self in any way whatever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He would not love such a woman, however for a time she might fascinate him; and
+afterwards there would only be the nausea and the memory that was like an
+unpleasant taste. Such a woman might teach him many things it is no harm for a
+man to know; but she would never call to the best in him, nor help him to
+realise himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you seen your friend the duchess lately?&rdquo; she asked, with a
+disarming smile, not wishing to appear merely curious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I saw her on Friday, at a ball. She was in great form.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You danced with her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. She&rsquo;s not a good dancer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you only had one, I suppose?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, three.&rdquo; He smiled a little. &ldquo;We sat out two.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ought to have felt highly honoured.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t know. She is very amusing. A very funny thing happened
+last week. Out of sheer devilry, she and a friend and two men went to the
+Covent Garden Fancy Dress Ball, disguised of course, and just for an hour or
+two. To their horror, after the procession, the friend was handed a large
+glass-and-silver salad bowl, as a prize for being the best
+&lsquo;twostep&rsquo; dancer in the room. Of course she had to go off with the
+beastly thing; but she was so proud of winning it, she couldn&rsquo;t resist
+giving their escapade away, and it got round everywhere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if our escapade with Lady Bounce is out yet? I haven&rsquo;t
+seen Hal since Thursday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh yes, it is,&rdquo; eagerly; &ldquo;the duchess had heard about it.
+She was pumping me to know who was in the joke. We are longing to see Quin and
+hear the latest, but he is down east.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What an oddity he is!&rdquo; thoughtfully. &ldquo;I liked him so much:
+but it is difficult to reconcile him with slumming.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s one of the best. Every one loves him. And he does his
+slumming in quite a way of his own. I&rsquo;ve been with him sometimes, and he
+just goes among the rough characters down there as if he hated being a swell
+and wanted to be one of them. He positively asks them for sympathy, and of
+course it takes their fancy and he is friends with them all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you are a remarkable trio altogether. Hal&rsquo;s cousin Dick is
+just as original in his way as St. Quintin. And you, of course, are somehow
+different to the majority. I wonder how you will each end? St. Quintin will
+perhaps become a bishop. Dick Bruce will write an astounding, weird novel, and
+bound into fame. And you? …&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He flushed a little. &ldquo;I shall be left far behind by both of them,
+futilely wishing to catch up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not. Your chance is just as good as theirs, if you choose to make
+it so,&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fail to see that I have any chance at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most chances rest chiefly with ourselves. It&rsquo;s a great thing to be
+ready for them if they come. I hope you&rsquo;ll be that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so too, but it would be easier if one were more sure they were
+coming,&rdquo; and he laughed with a lightness that jarred a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She rose to go, as it was getting late, feeling slightly disappointed in some
+vague way; and when they parted she noticed that his handshake was slightly
+limp, as of one who would not grasp life tightly enough to compel it to
+surrender its good things to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But in her own sanctum she rallied herself, and hardened her heart, asking what
+had it to do with her after all, and how could his success or non-success in
+any way concern her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doubtless in the end he would share the fate of the great majority and attain
+only mediocrity; having missed that one great blinding shaft of pain or joy
+that might have stabbed him into tense, pulsing life, and spurred him up the
+heights of fame and glory.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She let her evening-cloak slide to a chair, turning to glance at a calling card
+on the table, with a renewal of the old, callous, cynical air. The practical
+force of Flip Denton&rsquo;s conversation was making itself felt. Of course it
+was an absurdity for her to imagine herself in love with a youth of
+twenty-four&mdash;almost the dullest of all ages&mdash;be he never so good to
+look at. She might very well keep a motherly eye on him, and show him a side of
+life he might perhaps not see otherwise, but it must end there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No doubt a certain novelty had made the evening unusually pleasant: after two
+or three more they would certainly pall, and then she would go back to her old
+chums; the men of the world who had paid their footing and won their
+experience, and come through, careless enough devils at best in their own
+phraseology, but non the worse for a fall or two, and a win or two, and a
+self-taught hardihood for most things life was likely any more to send.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled a little as she remembered how calmly he had thanked her and said
+good-night. Of a surety he took his fruits quietly and unconcernedly enough.
+She wondered if he were secretly in love with some pink-and-white débutante,
+who flushed and smiled when he spoke, and gazed up at him with fond, adoring
+eyes. It was likely enough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No doubt he would tell her all about it soon, as a very young man tells a
+favourite sister, or a jolly, not too elderly aunt. She rather hoped he would.
+It would be an anti-climax humorous enough to cure her all in a moment of
+seeming anything to him other than that jolly, not too elderly aunt. Then she
+would invite Flip to dinner, and they would be gay together&mdash;she could
+imagine the tone in which he would call her &ldquo;aunty&rdquo;&mdash;and her
+folly would fall from her like an outgrown chrysalis, leaving her sane, and
+cynical, and wordly, and whole again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The train of thought pleased her, and soothed in some way an indefinable
+rasping sense of the general futility of all feeling and all striving. Surely
+she, with her young-old heart, her world-worn memories, and her youth that
+never was, should know that worldly-wise dictum full well.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course she kew it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The things that mattered were beauty and brilliance and success; and these she
+had in good measure, brimming over. Her mood made her cross suddenly to the
+many-sided mirror, and switch on a blaze of light that would brook no feigning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In its searching gleams she looked at herself with clear, fearless eyes. Yes;
+it was all there still, untouched and unimpaired by those thirty-two years: the
+colouring, the skin, the rounded, supple figure&mdash;all the things for which
+men loved her and the world gave her fame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gave herself a little mocking salute, and then turned away to hurry into
+her pretty, cosy bed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But what the blaze of light had not seen the mothering darkness hid tenderly.
+Two bright tear-drops, filling tired eyes that had tried so often to fool
+themselves into blind and callous content.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dick Bruce will write an astounding, weird novel, and bound into
+fame,&rdquo; Lorraine had remarked to her companion, and away somewhere down in
+Kent, an hour or so earlier, Dick had remarked to Hal as they spun along:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got the maddest idea for a novel you ever heard of. I&rsquo;m
+going to make the hit of next season.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope it&rsquo;s not about babies,&rdquo; said Hal, thinking of his
+doggerel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it is&mdash;babies and vegetables.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nonsense. You can&rsquo;t make a novel out of babies and
+vegetables.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see if I can&rsquo;t. The vegetables are all to be endowed with
+life, and of course the scene of my tale will be the vegetable kingdom.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And where do the babies come in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The babies will represent mankind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never heard such rot. Why should mankind be represented by babies?
+Much better let them be represented by green peas or gooseberries.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. Mankind can only properly be represented by babies; mankind
+being in its infancy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it isn&rsquo;t. It&rsquo;s much older than vegetables.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not. Man was made last, and instead of developing into a
+reasonable, rational object, like a potato or a cabbage, he has strayed away
+into all manner of wild side-issues, and is still nothing but a very much
+perplexed infant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you propose to try and help him to emulate the reasonable,
+rational condition of the potato and cabbage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I propose to show him his inferiority to these delectable
+creations.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then if he has any sense he will just duck you in the Serpentine and
+make you apologise. Personally I consider myself anything but a baby, and far
+superior to any of the cabbage tribe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!...&rdquo; he cried gleefully. &ldquo;You are actually proving my
+theory. I can&rsquo;t explain now, but just wait till that book is
+written.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you taking rooms at Colney Hatch while you do it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought about it. You show more understanding in that remark than
+in any of the others.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t require much effort of understanding to think that out.
+Is the onion or the mangel-wurzel to be your hero?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are unsympathetic. I shall not tell you any more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. I am most interested really. I should make the cabbage your
+hero, and the onion your hero&iuml;ne, then she can weep on his breast.&rdquo;
+They swerved violently, and with a little gasp she added, &ldquo;All the same,
+I&rsquo;ve no desire to weep on the highway underneath a motor-car. What
+<i>are</i> you doing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. The steering-wheel seems a bit odd.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They stopped to examine the wheel, and almost immediately, out of the gathering
+darkness behind shot another car, hooting violently to them to get out of the
+way. Unable to stop the oncoming car in time, Dick tried to move aside, failed,
+and in less than a minute the newcomer, in spite of brakes swiftly adjusted,
+crashed into them, smashing their lamp, and badly damaging the back near-side
+wheel of the car.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m blowed!&rdquo; said Dick, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the only
+moment in the whole day you shouldn&rsquo;t have been on that particular square
+yard of the entire globe. Any other moment, I could either have moved aside or
+stopped you in time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The occupant of the other car, who was driving alone, sprang out and came
+briskly forward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What the devil!...&rdquo; he began, then noticed the lady, and stopped
+short.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was certainly the devil,&rdquo; said Dick, ruefully examining his
+battered wheel, and &ldquo;I always thought he was credited with the deceny to
+look after his own. How have you fared?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he seems to have looked after me all right,&rdquo; in a cheery
+voice; &ldquo;there&rsquo;s nothing that will prevent my going on to town. But
+if you will pardon my curiosity, why take root in the middle of the road and
+ask for trouble?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s smile suddenly flashed out in the lamp-light irresistibly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a new theory about vegetables being wiser than mankind, but
+of course we took root too soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A pair of grey eyes looked quizzically at her in the darkness, discerning only
+the gleam of a white face in a close-fitting bonnet, and the flash of white,
+even teeth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The blasted steering wheel wouldn&rsquo;t act,&rdquo; said Dick.
+&ldquo;We had just that second slowed down to examine it. You might have come
+along here to all eternity and not have been as inopportune.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You take it very well.&rdquo; The big-coated apparition, in motor-cap
+with the ear-flaps down, and motor-goggles, and the suggestion of a rotundity
+about the centre, was not at all engaging to look at, but he had a charming
+voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m taking it so ill that I daren&rsquo;t express myself out
+loud,&rdquo; said Hal. &ldquo;What in the world are we to do? Is there a train
+anywhere near?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid not, but there is a decent enough inn close by.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An inn isn&rsquo;t much use to me.&rdquo; She paused, then added
+solemnly: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a strait-laced brother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s voice was rather deep and rich for a woman, and it had a dangerous
+allurement in the darkness. The stranger took off his goggles and tried again
+to see her face, while Dick took a minute stock of his damage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he suggested, a little daringly, &ldquo;if he is able to
+chaperone you at the inn himself?&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He isn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Hal; &ldquo;he&rsquo;s somewhere east of
+Piccadilly, studying Phœnician Architecture, and the herringbone pattern on
+antique masonry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, damn!&rdquo; intercepted Dick, &ldquo;the old man has let me down
+badly this time; this car won&rsquo;t move before daybreak. It means a red
+light burning all night, and we must go to the inn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Dick,&rdquo; Hal exclaimed in quick alarm. &ldquo;How can I let
+Dudley know? He&rsquo;ll have a fit at the idea of my being out all night like
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He ought to be too thankful you are safe and sound to mind anything
+else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he won&rsquo;t; because he is always grumbling at my not getting
+back before dark. There must surely be a train from somewhere?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her voice had grown seriously alarmed as she began to realise what sort of a
+fix she was in. The stranger came forward to lend his aid to the inspection,
+and after a cursory glance added his verdict to Dick&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t move her before morning; and there are no trains
+anywhere near here on Sunday night. I am going to London myself; you must let
+me give you both a lift.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick stood up with an air of finality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t leave her. She isn&rsquo;t exactly all my own, you see. I
+must stay at the inn, but if you wouldn&rsquo;t mind taking Miss
+Pritchard&mdash;&rdquo; he looked at Hal a little anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall be delighted,&rdquo; came the brisk response from the stranger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal for once was nonplussed, but her habitual humour reasserted itself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know which Dudley will think the most dreadful,&rdquo; she
+remarked comically, &ldquo;for me to stay at the inn unchaperoned, or motor
+back with a stranger. I seem to be fairly between the devil and the deep
+sea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The men laughed, but Dick made the decision.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You had better go back,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He will at least have you
+safe under lock and key by midnight that way and not lie awake worrying all
+night himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then let me run you to the inn first,&rdquo; said the stranger, and
+after fixing his red lights, Dick went off with them in search of help to make
+the car safer for the night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little later the stranger&rsquo;s motor turned Londonwards with two occupants
+only, one in front and one behind. After a few miles he stopped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you come and sit in front? It seems so unsociable to travel
+like this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most unsociable,&rdquo; said Hal, &ldquo;but it would please Brother
+Dudley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind Brother Dudley now.&rdquo; The voice was very attractive.
+&ldquo;Mind me, instead. I&rsquo;m very dull here, and I hate driving in the
+dark. My chauffeur is down with the &lsquo;flu&rsquo;, and I couldn&rsquo;t
+beg, borrow, nor steal any one else&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you a doctor?&rdquo; she asked, taking her seat beside him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you think I should be a doctor?&rdquo; tucking a warm rug cosily
+round her, in a leisurely fashion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only because I thought perhaps you were obliged to go, in spite of your
+chauffeur being ill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was obliged to go, but I&rsquo;m not a doctor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They started forward again, but the pace was noticeably slower.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you don&rsquo;t mind going slowly, it is so difficult to steer in
+te dark?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was perfectly aware he had not found it so difficult before, but she only
+said lightly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anything to keep safe from another mishap. I might have to walk home
+next time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or stay at an inn with me!...&rdquo; with an amused laugh. &ldquo;What
+would Brother Dudley do then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have brain fever first, I expect, then creeping paralysis, then sleeping
+sickness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He chuckled with enjoyment, and presently remarked: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think
+you treat Dudley respectfully enough if he is an affectionate elder
+brother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes I do. I sort of leaven the lump. Without me he&rsquo;d be just a
+clever prig; he couldn&rsquo;t help it. With me he is only better than most
+men; and his lofty ideas don&rsquo;t get top-heavy, because I keep him in touch
+with commonplace humanity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why is he better than most men? What is the matter with the rest of
+us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The rest of you don&rsquo;t bother to have lofty ideas at all, much less
+struggle to live up to them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a little sweeping. Do you like men to have lofty ideas, and be
+priggish?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They don&rsquo;t necessarily go together. It&rsquo;s only Dudley who
+thinks all the rest of the world ought to be good too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t you agree with him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I look at things from a different standpoint. I admire him tremendously,
+and feel his superiority; but it is more natural to me to take things as I find
+them and make the best of them as they are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are evidently a very sensible young lady. You can find a warm spot
+in your heart even for a sinner, for instance!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I rather like them,&rdquo; and she gave a low laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you do, if you&rsquo;re a true woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;m a true woman right enough. I like a man to have a spice of
+the devil in him; and I like playing with fire; and I love getting into
+mischief.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Capital!... you and I must be friends. I&rsquo;m beginning to think it
+was a lucky mishap for me at all events.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t finished my qualifications yet. You may change your
+mind. I like all those sort of things, but at the same time I like the big
+things as well. Also I&rsquo;m told I&rsquo;m most annoyingly practical, and
+most irritatingly capable of taking care of myself, and never getting burnt, so
+to speak.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who told you that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think it was some one at the office.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What office?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She mentioned the name of one of the leading London papers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you&rsquo;re a working young lady, are you?&rdquo; He asked the
+question with a new note in his voice, though it would have been difficult to
+tell just how the information struck him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal gave another laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A working young lady! How awful! I shall not be friends with you if you
+call me anything so dreadful as that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you call it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I think I like &lsquo;Breadwinner&rsquo; best, as that is what I
+do it for&mdash;but I don&rsquo;t mind working woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The stranger looked hard into the darkness a few moments, then he asked
+suddenly, sitll with the new note in his voice:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suppose you want the vote?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mentally he was wondering whether, if she knew who he was, she would attack him
+physically or insist upon writing in chalk all over his car.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want it for myself, because I shouldn&rsquo;t know what to
+do with it, and I haven&rsquo;t much time to find out. But I want fair play for
+women-workers generally, and if that is the only way to get it, I hope it will
+come quickly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean by fair play?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just whatever is fair play. I don&rsquo;t think women ought to be making
+iron chains at Cradley Heath for a penny a yard, for instance, and that sort of
+thing. I think it is a slur on the men who govern the country that it is
+possible. If you were one of them, and drove about in this beautiful car, not
+caring twopence whether starving women were sweated or not, I
+should&mdash;&rdquo; she hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what should you&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Detecting the mysterious note in his voice, she added with mischievous,
+half-serious intent:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should want to scratch you, and bite you, and push you into the first
+available ditch, for a poor coward, who was afraid to take care of the
+interests of woman, in case she got too well able in the end to take care of
+herself&mdash;so there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He could not help laughing, and when he subsided she added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you are one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you suppose it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind. Are you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You promise you won&rsquo;t scratch me and bite me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give you a sporting chance to run away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not very likely to run away from you, I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had reached the well-lit roads now, and he turned and looked keenly into
+her face, partly to see if by chance he might recognise her, and partly to get
+a cleaner idea of her appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You look too nice to be a suffragette,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such rot! Do I look too nice to care whether working women and outcast
+women are fairly treated or not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only the bluff of the movement. What they really want is
+power and notoriety.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal tossed her head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a positive worm,&rdquo; she told him frankly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again his engaging laugh rang out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a nice thing to say to a man who has brought you all the
+way from Millington to London, and helped you out of a tight corner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The white teeth gleamed suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll qualify it if you like, and call you a cross between a worm
+and a brick.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not good enough. I won&rsquo;t pass the worm at all. If you don&rsquo;t
+retract it wholly I shall put you down at the first tram, and let you get back
+to Bloomsbury on your own.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll retract, if you&rsquo;ll tell me who you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you afterwards.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She shook her head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps you are going to Downing Street even now, to plan a crushing
+blow to the Cause.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am going to Downing Street, but it has nothing to do with the Cause,
+as you call it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was her turn to glance round, but she only saw that he was clean-shaven, and
+somewhat lined. His grey, quizzical eyes met hers full of humour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder who we both are?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can easily tell you who I am, as I&rsquo;m so comfortably of no
+account. My name is Harriet Pritchard, and my friends call me Hal. I live with
+Brother Dudley, who is an architect; and if the world isn&rsquo;t any the
+better for me, I hope it is sometimes a little gayer, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And are you engaged to the young man whose steering gear went
+wrong?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I am not engaged to any one at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very nearly perhaps?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; not even within sight of it. Being engaged, and always having to go
+out with the same pal, would bore me to tears.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see.&rdquo; There was a note of satisfaction in his voice. In the
+brighter lights he had observed that the warm ulster clung to a very shapely
+figure, and covered a pair of fine shoulders, and even if she was not pretty,
+for he could not be quite sure on the point, she was certainly very attractive,
+and had a delightfully engaging smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if there is room for another in the ranks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Something a little condescending in the way he made the suggestion nettled Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you a rather old?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again his ready laugh rang out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give frankness for frankness. I am forty-eight.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goodness!… and I am twenty-five.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that all? Then allow me to say you are a remarkably clever young
+woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A good many breadwinners are; they have to be. Some of them are too
+clever even for Cabinet Ministers,&rdquo; and she chuckled joyfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the darkness, she did not see the quick gleam in his eyes, as he retorted:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think many Cabinet Ministers have the luck to meet a
+breadwinner who is as attractive as she is clever.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if they did,&rdquo; sarcastically, &ldquo;I suppose they would drop
+the notoriety yarn and find time to consider whether the working woman is
+treated fairly or not. The weakness in her defence at present seems solely that
+not enough pretty women make up her defenders. Bah! You all ought to have
+kittens to play with, and nanny goats and woolly lambs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why you include me. What have I done?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you&rsquo;re going to Downing Street?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why shouldn&rsquo;t I be going to a dinner-party?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned and glanced up with a daredevil light in her eyes that delighted
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I not only think you a member of Parliament, but, judging by your
+fatuous air of superiority, I should imagine you are positively a full-blown
+Cabinet Minister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He busied himself with his steering wheel, while little chuckles of enjoyment
+came out of his muffler.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And supposing I were?&rdquo; he said at last.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goodness!… I hope you&rsquo;re not?…&rdquo; in quick alarm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you hope so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t know, except that I&rsquo;ve never known a Cabinet
+Minister in my life, and I never expected, if I met one, to treat him like…
+like&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An old and fatuous lump of superiority!&rdquo; with a gay laugh.
+&ldquo;Well, little woman, you needn&rsquo;t be in the least sorry. I
+don&rsquo;t know that I&rsquo;ve ever enjoyed a motor ride more. When will you
+come again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Are</i> you a Cabinet Minister?…&rdquo; she asked helplessly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I hope you won&rsquo;t disapprove, for I have to plead guilty to
+being Sir Edwin Crathie.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Edwin Crathie?&rdquo; in abashed tones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They called me Squib at school.&rdquo; He said it in a whimsical,
+humorous voice, looking down at her with very friendly eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Hal had grown silent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid by your manner you do disapprove?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is certainly embarrassing. I would rather you had been… well, just
+any one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll get used to it,&rdquo; still with the twinkle in his eyes.
+&ldquo;In the meantime you haven&rsquo;t answered my question. When will you
+come for another ride?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not reply, and he leaned a little closer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will come again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid Brother Dudley wouldn&rsquo;t like it&rdquo;; and then
+they both laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you come in?&rdquo; as they drew up before her door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I haven&rsquo;t time; and besides, I&rsquo;m a little
+afraid of Brother Dudley. I only feel equal to the Prime Minister this
+evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She held out her hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, thank you ever so much. You saved me from a dreadfully tight
+corner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The thanks should be all mine; you saved me from unmitigated boredom. I
+cursed my chauffeur for going down with &lsquo;flu&rsquo; today, but now I
+feel ready to raise his salary for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had pulled of his thick motoring-glove, and was holding her hand in a firm,
+lingering clasp, which she quickly cut short, tucking both her hands into her
+ulster pockets, and standing up very straight and slim in the lamplight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to go though the confessional now,&rdquo; she told him,
+&ldquo;and sit on the stool of repentance for supper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; don&rsquo;t repent; come again.&rdquo; He moved nearer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m naturally a very busy man, and I can&rsquo;t make engagements
+offhand, but I can easily get at you on the telephone. Will you come some
+afternoon, about half-past four?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you are very rash. How do you know I shall not bring the
+colours, and wave them wildly down the street, shouting &lsquo;Votes for
+Women&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll risk it. Will you come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She moved away, latch-key in hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I won&rsquo;t promise, anyway. Good-bye, and my best
+thanks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a rush of light through an open door, a last bright smile, and he
+found himself alone in the street.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hal entered the sitting-room and met Dudley&rsquo;s eyes she felt, as she
+afterwards described it to Lorraine, that she was in for it. Yet it was not so
+very late, barely half-past nine. On the table her supper was still waiting for
+her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve had a slight accident,&rdquo; she said, taking the bully by
+the horns; &ldquo;something went wrong with the steering gear, and it delayed
+us. Have you had supper?&rdquo; noticing the table was still laid for two.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I always have supper at eight on Sundays, because Mrs. White has to
+clear it away herself, as you know. Isn&rsquo;t Dick coming in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. He&rsquo;s&mdash;&rdquo; Hall stopped short, considering the
+advantages of prevarication.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to see him,&rdquo; testily. &ldquo;He said he would give me a
+particular address tonight. Why is he in such a hurry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t Dick who brought me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She took off her motor-bonnet and threw it on the sofa, running her hands
+through her bright hair, and rubbing her cheeks, which were a little cold.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not Dick?...&rdquo; Dudley looked up from his book peremptorily.
+&ldquo;Who did bring you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal took her seat at the table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you see, we had a slight accident. We had just stopped to examine
+the steering gear, when another car came round a curve and crashed into us.
+Dick&rsquo;s car was damaged, and...&rdquo; she reached across for the salad,
+and helped herself with as unconcerned an air as she could muster...
+&ldquo;Oh!... onions!... how scrumptious!... Mrs. White always remembers my
+plebeian tastes, but not my patrician ones.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; he suggested coldly. &ldquo;Dick&rsquo;s car was damaged,
+and&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dick had to stay and nurse it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then did you come home by train?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was no train. There was nothing else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing else than what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing but the car that run into us, or going to an inn for the night
+with Dick. I was afraid you wouldn&rsquo;t like that,&rdquo; with a mischievous
+gleam.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My likes and dislikes are not, apparently, of the smallest moment to
+you, or you would not have been motoring late on Sunday at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dick can&rsquo;t go other days.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who was in this other car?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again he glanced up quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any one else?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. His chauffeur is down with &lsquo;flu&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it some one you knew, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. He told me on the way in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I to gather that you returned to London alone, in a motor-car, with a
+perfect stranger?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t Dick come with you? Surely if he takes you out for the
+day he might at least see you safely home. I never heard of such proceedings in
+my life. The man might have been a positive blackguard. Had you any idea who he
+was?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, none; but what&rsquo;s the use of making a fuss! It&rsquo;s all
+right now, and I&rsquo;m safely at home; which is surely better than being in
+some weird village all night, and you wondering what on earth had become of
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is not the question. It&rsquo;s the whole circumstance from
+beginning to end. I consider Dick&rsquo;s behaviour most reprehensible.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He couldn&rsquo;t leave his car alone there in the middle of a Kentish
+high road. He had to stay somewhere near.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he should have considered you of more importance than the car.
+To let you return alone, at that hour, with a perfect stranger, is the most
+unheard of proceeding. I shall certainly tell Dick what I think of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t Dick&rsquo;s fault,&rdquo; loyally. &ldquo;I just took
+the matter into my own hands and came. Dick had nothing to do with it. In fact,
+I insisted upon his remaining behind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, of course you would. You only seem to be happy when you are flying
+in the face of some convention or other. But Dick is older than you, and he
+knows my views on these matters. He owed it to me to see you safely
+home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But since I am safely home!...&rdquo; obstinately.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You very well might not have been. What the stranger himself must think
+of you I don&rsquo;t know. Have you any idea who he was?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Sir Edwin Crathie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Edwin Crathie! Do you mean the Cabinet Minister?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So he said.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did you tell him who you were?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again there was a gleam under the lowered lashes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did; but I can&rsquo;t say he either recognised our historie name or
+seemed much impressed. I really don&rsquo;t believe he had ever heard of
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley refused to smile. Instead the frown deepened on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is probably just as well. Your actions of late cannot be said to be
+entirely to your credit. What is this tale about Thursday night? I met St.
+Quintin&rsquo;s father with Uncle Bruce this morning in the Park. You told me
+Quin&rsquo;s aunt was going to chaperone you. Did she or did she not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told you Lady Bounce was going to chaperone me. Lady Bounce <i>did</i>
+chaperone me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is Lady Bounce Quin&rsquo;s aunt?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That depends.&rdquo; Hal pushed away her chair, wishing vaguely that
+fathers and uncles would mind their own business. Either incident alone she
+could have coped with, but it was a distinct imposition to expect her to manage
+both at once, and on Sunday night into the bargain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can only presume you lent yourself to such a vulgar proceeding as Quin
+dressing up as a woman and acting chaperone. Is that the truth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not entirely. You see, he wasn&rsquo;t an ordinary woman. He went as his
+aunt, Lady Phyllis Fenton. His personification was a masterpiece.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley began to pace the room. His thin lips were compressed into a straight
+line, and his whole air distincly worried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What you seem quite unable to perceive is the way in which these
+incidents reflect upon your good taste and upon my guardianship.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal grew suddenly nettled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is nonsense to talk of guardianship now. I am twenty-five, and I earn
+my own living. I am perfectly well able to take care of myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; that is just what you are not. You are so rash and
+inconsequent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, anyhow I get a good deal out of my life, while you&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He remembered his own Thursday evening and intercepted:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is possible to get a great deal out of life without outraging every
+convention. Do you imagine either Ethel or Doris Hayward would do the wild
+things you do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ethel Hayward is a brick. She couldn&rsquo;t be straitlaced anyhow, nor
+narrow-minded. Doris would do anything under the sun that suited her own
+ends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She got up, and turned away without perceiving his frown, beginning to gather
+up her paraphernalia. He stopped short in his walk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it really was Sir Edwin Crathie who brought you home, I must write
+and thank him, I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t bother; probably it wasn&rsquo;t him at all; only some
+third-rate actor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley tried to see her face, not sure if she was serious or not, but she kept
+her head averted as she added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite possibly it was Lord Bounce.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are always treating a serious subject with levity,&rdquo; he
+complained. &ldquo;What am I to think? Do you or do you not believe your escort
+was Sir Edwin Crathie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, as he was awfully afraid I might be a militant suffragette, I
+think he really was a Cabinet Minister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you entirely undeceived him on that score,&rdquo; drily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. I told him I was tingling to scratch him and bite
+him,&rdquo; and the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley relapsed into silent displeasure, and for a few moments neither spoke.
+Then Hal, with her garments on her arm, came round to him with a frank,
+affectionate air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley, don&rsquo;t make mountains out of molehills over nothing. I know
+I am a little wild. I can&rsquo;t help it&mdash;we seem to have got mixed up
+somehow. You&rsquo;ve got all the decorum and nice, refined feelings of a
+charming woman, and I&rsquo;ve got the enterprise and
+&lsquo;don&rsquo;t-care&rsquo; spirit of a man. It isn&rsquo;t any use fighting
+against facts. You must take me as I am, and make the best of it. I can&rsquo;t
+change now; and I don&rsquo;t know that I would if I could.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose you would. You positively glory in the very traits
+that I deplore&rdquo;; but his voice sounded mollified.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh well, old man, you wouldn&rsquo;t like me to be helpless, and
+foolish, and woolly-lambified, would you? It wouldn&rsquo;t be half so
+interesting. Just fancy if you had a sister like Doris Hayward, can you imagine
+anything tamer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stiffened again, but she did not notice it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As for Thursday night, you never ought to have heard about it, and you
+never would have done if Uncle Bruce had not been such an old telltale. Just
+wait till I get him alone; that&rsquo;s all. Anyhow, he didn&rsquo;t think it a
+heinous crime did he? I expect he gave a great laugh that startled every one
+within hearing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As that was exactly what had happened, Dudley made no comment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Sir Edwin Crathie would only have thought me a fool if I had been
+afraid to come back with him. These things will happen occasionally. They are
+not worth worrying about. You are too anxious over trifles, Dudley.&rdquo; She
+moved away towards the door. &ldquo;Well, good-night, don&rsquo;t forget to
+return thanks that anyhow I am not in a hospital, generally smashed up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She left him, and retired to bed, feeling a little depressed. Of course he had
+not forgiven her, nor would he see things from her point of view. She almost
+wished he did not mind; but all her life she had had an affection that was
+almost adoration for her one brother, and it always depressed her to displease
+him, however indifferent she might seem.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She awoke next morning with the sense of depression still lingering, and set
+off for the City in far from her usual spirits. The office seemed dingy and
+dull, and the routine wearisome. It felt like ages and ages since she had
+driven home through the darkness in Sir Edwin&rsquo;s beautiful car. She
+wondered if it was real at all; only what else should make all the old friends
+at the office appear so uninteresting and commonplace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She speculated a little forlornly as to whether she would ever be likely to see
+him again, and decided it was most unlikely, and that probably he had already
+forgotten the whole incident.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And just when she had reached that point in her meditations, the telephone boy
+came to tell her some one was asking for her. She asked him dispiritedly who it
+was, and he replied that the gentleman had declined to give a name.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal shut herself into the case, took down the receiver, and, still
+dispiritedly, asked: &ldquo;Hullo! Are you there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that Miss Pritchard?&rdquo; asked a voice that made her pulses
+hasten.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes? Who is that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The mere worm,&rdquo; came back the cheery answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter? You sound somewhat funereal. Was Brother Dudley
+very angry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Terrible. I am still recovering. He seemed to have grave doubts as to
+whether you really were the eminent person you professed to be!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, he did, did he? And what did you say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That it was quite possible you were only a third-rate actor all the
+time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks. I shall not grow vain on your compliments. Have you any grave
+doubts yourself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mind either way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks again. Well, I am speaking to you from my own private sanctum at
+the House of Commons; and if you want to make sure, you can take my number, and
+ring up the Exchange and inquire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take your word for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good girl. You don&rsquo;t sound quite so obstreperous as you were last
+night. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m only Mondayfied. The office is always boring on a
+Monday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry I can&rsquo;t suggest a spin this afternoon, but
+I&rsquo;m too much engaged until Wednesday. Will you come on Wednesday?
+Well?&rdquo; as Hal, appeared to be meditating.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where do you propose going?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anywhere you like. I&rsquo;d better not fetch you from the office
+though. I&rsquo;ll pick you up just casually in St. Jame&rsquo;s Park. Will you
+be there at five, near the Archway?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right, if I can get away. How shall I let you know if I change my
+mind?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do anything so childish. The run will do you good after a
+stuffy office. I&rsquo;ll be there to the minute. Good-bye,&rdquo; and he rang
+off without waiting for a reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal went back to her work, with a pleasurable sensation that instead of grey
+stuffiness there was joyful sunshine. She had never imagined for a moment he
+would actually carry out his suggestion of a meeting; and here they were with
+an actual appointment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was so odd, too, that they had not properly seen each other yet; only having
+met in the light of street lamps; and she fell to wondering eagerly what he was
+like in broad daylight. A voice whispered, &ldquo;Perhaps you won&rsquo;t like
+him at all, and will wish you had not gone&rdquo;; but her love of adventure
+easily silenced it, and she looked forward to her outing without any
+misgivings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once she thought she would go an tell Lorraine about it first, but later
+decided it would be more enjoyable to do so afterwards, and kept her own
+counsel; which perhaps was not entirely wise, seeing how much more cause
+Lorraine had to know the world than she had.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<p>
+Sir Edwin Crathie had come to the front very rapidly under the auspices of the
+Liberal Government. Without having any special worth, he was sufficiently
+brilliant and unscrupulous to brush obstacles aside without compunction, and
+assert himself in a manner that impressed his hearers with the notion that he
+was very clever, very thorough, and very reliable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Those who knew him superficially believed him extra-ordinarily clever. Those
+who knew him intimately sometimes shrugged their shoulders. He was possessed
+undoubtedly of a certain flashy sort of cleverness, but some of his greatest
+skill existed in imposing it upon others as strength and insight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As may be imagined, such a man was not much troubled with principles. If a step
+was likely to help him forward with his ambitions, he took it without
+considering the moral aspect. If no help was likely to follow, he only took it
+if it happened to please his fancy. To say that he had climbed by women was to
+put it mildly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Many of his steps he had taken on women&rsquo;s hearts, trampling them
+mercilessly in the process. And since he was admittedly unscrupulous, it was
+not surprising, for he was possessed not only of an attractive appearance, but
+of great personal magnetism when he chose to exert it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was a bachelor because so far he had considered the single state best
+forwarded his aims, but a growing and imperative need for money was now causing
+him to look round among the richest heiresses for some one to pay his debts in
+consideration of being made Lady Crathie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime Hal&rsquo;s independent spirit and freshness suggested an
+entertaining interlude; and as she attracted him more strongly than any woman
+had done of late, he decided to follow up their chance friendship just for the
+amusement of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In consequence, he felt quite boyishly eager for the hours to pass on
+Wednesday, and when at last it was time to start, dismissed his chauffeur with
+a curt sentence, and started off alone. The chauffeur, it may be mentioned,
+merely glanced after him, and with a shrug of his shoulders wondered
+&ldquo;what the master was up to now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Sir Edwin reached the meeting-place he was not particularly surprised to
+find no signs of Hal. He believed she would come; but evidently she liked being
+perverse, and would purposely keep him waiting. He ran the car slowly back
+again, scanning each pedestrian ahead with a certain anxious eagerness,
+wondering how he would like her in broad daylight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On returning to the Archway, and still finding no one waiting, he alighted with
+a pretence of examining some part of the car, and looked back over the paths
+leading down from Piccadilly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And something in his mental regions felt rather foolishly glad when he
+recognised her afar off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had never seen her walk, but his instinct told him Hal would move with just
+the graceful, swinging stride of the tall, slim figure coming towards him, and
+carry her head and shoulders with just such a dauntless, grenadier attitude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He found himself standing quite still, with his hands deep in his overcoat
+pockets, watching her. Her costume, too, pleased his fastidious taste. Of
+course a first-class tailor had cut a coat and skirt with a fit and hang like
+that; and the small hat, if it had nothing Parisian about it, anyhow suited the
+wearer and dress to perfection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He noted with quiet pleasure that she showed no signs of embarrassment when she
+met his watching gaze, merely crossing the road with the same jaunty, upright
+walk, and a gleam of fun in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo!&rdquo; was her greeting. &ldquo;Hope I haven&rsquo;t kept you
+waiting. I&rsquo;ve had a busy afternoon helping my chief to give you and The
+Right Honourable Hayes Matheson a good slanging.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you have, have you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The grey eyes were growing more and more approving, as he noted each detail
+most likely to appeal to a man who had made a study of women for many years.
+The shapely little ears with the glossy hair curling round them, the full,
+rounded throat, the determined little chin, the frank, fearless eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He still hardly knew whether she was pretty or not, but he discerned wery
+quickly that she was amply blessed with that rare gift of personality and
+humour that is so much more durable than a pretty face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal, for her part, was no less interested in him, but she found little else
+than that she had already seen: humorous, quizzical grey eyes, a face a good
+deal lined, and a mouth and chin suggesting a nature fond of enjoyment and
+self-indulgence, which it had never seen any cause to deny itself. She saw that
+he was very grey about the temples, and a trifle inclined to stoutness, but
+tall enough and broad enough to carry it off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A fine figure of a man, though one, she felt instinctively, belonging to a very
+different world to hers. Because she felt his careful scrutiny, and because she
+wanted to assert her indifference to it, she remarked suddenly, after a moment:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, how do you like me by daylight?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you like me?&rdquo; he retorted, and laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She shook her head, and her eyes grew mischievous.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Old,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;quite old and grey.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Old be damned! Forty-eight is the prime of life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was taking her seat, and gave a low chuckle of enjoyment at having drawn
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, you may laugh now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;ll soon show
+you forty-eight is far more attractive than twenty-eight. Where shall we
+go?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mind in the least, but I should prefer to steer for tea
+and buns.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tea and buns!… how like a woman!… How can you expect to get the vote on
+tea and buns?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were spinning along the Broughton Road now, heading for Putney and
+Richmond, and Hal felt her spirits rising momentarily with the joy of the
+motion and comfort and fresh air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t expect to get in on tea and buns; we expect to get it on
+whisky and beer. That is to say, we expect the course of events to prove that
+tea and buns conduce to a frame of mind better able to cope with the questions
+of the day than the whisky and beer drained in such quantities by men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when you&rsquo;ve got it you&rsquo;ll all vote for the man who
+happens to be good-looking, and who can pay you the prettiest
+compliments.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A few will vote that way, no doubt, but not the majority. Women are not
+so fond of pretty men as they were&rdquo;; and her lips curled significantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pretty men!…&rdquo; he echoed, with enjoyment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little woman, you have a neat way of putting things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was silent a few minutes, then added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose, down at that office they are all in love with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I haven&rsquo;t asked them,&rdquo; with twinkling
+eyes. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a bit in love with the chief myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, your are, are you? And what aged man might he be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, he&rsquo;s quite old,&rdquo; she laughed; &ldquo;somewhere about
+forty-eight.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is he in love with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It just depends. Sometimes he&rsquo;s rather fond of me on a Saturday;
+but on Mondays he loathes me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. And are you as changeable?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I love him always; but on Mondays it&rsquo;s mostly from habit. On
+Saturdays it&rsquo;s from choice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked down at her, and it was on the tip of his tongue to state some
+commonplace about being jealous. Then suddenly he looked back to his steering
+wheel, and the commonplace sentence died unspoken. Quite unaccountably he felt
+less inclined to flirt and more inclined to be really friendly, and for some
+distance they skimmed along in silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had tea at the Star and Garter, both chatting volubly on the most
+interesting topics of the day. Hal&rsquo;s newspaper work had made her
+cognisant of many subjects very few girls of her age would even have heard of,
+and her original criticisms delighted him. It was a gay little tea-table, and
+the time slipped by with extraordinary rapidity. Hal noticed it first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know it is half-past six?&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m
+dining out tonight. We must fly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it really past six?…&rdquo; in astonishment. &ldquo;How the time has
+flown! You know, you are such an entertaining little woman, you make me forget
+everything but yourself.&rdquo; He looked at her hard, and the force of habit
+caused him to add: &ldquo;I doubt if any other woman I know today could have
+given me so much pleasure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you needn&rsquo;t thank me,&rdquo; with her low, fresh laugh,
+&ldquo;because I came entirely to give myself pleasure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I hope you have succeeded. I see it is quite hopeless to expect any
+sort of a complimentary speech from you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite; though I don&rsquo;t mind admitting I have been very enjoyably
+entertained as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is something, anyhow. And now I suppose you are going straight off
+home to dress, and dine with some one else, and forget about me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose I shall forget you. It happens to be a journalist
+dinner, and probably we shall tear you to pieces between us before we have
+finished.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;d rather you did that than forget me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt him looking hard into her face, with something a little sinister in
+his expression, and she got up and turned away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you turn away when I am interested? Don&rsquo;t you think you
+might be a little pleased that I don&rsquo;t want you to forget me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He asked the question with a humorous twinkle, though she felt that he meant it
+seriously as well. This last, however, she was clever enough to ignore, and
+merely threw him a mischievous glance over her shoulder as she answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I have to consider Brother Dudley&rsquo;s attitude, you see; and
+I&rsquo;ve a notion he would be best pleased for both the incident and motorist
+of Sunday evening to be forgotten.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got up slowly, looking amused.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose he would be horrified at this outing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I strongly suspect he would.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What if he hears you were out motoring at Richmond with me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, well, I shall tell him you are old enough to be my father, and not
+to be absurd.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you harp on my age so?… If I am old enough to be your father, it
+doesn&rsquo;t follow that I&rsquo;m too old to be your lover?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was standing close to her now, looking down into her face, and Hal felt a
+little conscious tremor run through her blood. She faced him squarely, however,
+and answered in a gay, careless voice:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it doesn&rsquo;t, only, as I don&rsquo;t happen to want a
+lover, it&rsquo;s a contingency not worth considering.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps the post is already filled?&rdquo; he suggested, refusing
+likewise to be daunted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite filled. It&rsquo;s a case for a placard stating &lsquo;House
+Full&rsquo;, and you,&rdquo; she finished, &ldquo;would naturally be at the
+tail end of the queue which has to go away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He laughed with relish, and gave it up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can see you will take some taming,&rdquo; he said, as he handed her
+into the car. &ldquo;My weighty and important position evidently does not
+impress you in the least.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not, as you&rsquo;re a Liberal. They have so few really good
+men, they have to take anything they can get. Back up the Budget and the
+Chancellor, and exhibit a colossal amount of impudence, and there you
+are!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there isn&rsquo;t much to boast of in the way of men on the
+Conservative side, is there? Chiefly a collection of cousins, and
+second-cousins, and cousins by marriage, shoved in by a few interfering old
+aunts. You don&rsquo;t need me to tell an enlightened young woman like you that
+even impudence might serve the country better than cousin-ship.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder sometimes if any of you honestly put the country first at any
+time; or whether it is just a popular name for a very big
+&lsquo;me&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are such a little sceptic. Do you always credit people with
+self-interested motives?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that I do; but if you are a city-worker it is a
+fairly safe basis to work upon, until you can find proof that you are
+wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked down at her with amusement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a wise little head it is! Do you know, I don&rsquo;t think I ever
+met any one quite like you before,&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What you have missed!&rdquo; was the gay rejoinder, and they both
+laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I mustn&rsquo;t take you home?&rdquo; as they neared
+Piccadilly. &ldquo;Brother Dudley might see us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thanks. If you will drop me at Hyde Park Corner I will take a homely
+bus, and return to my Bloomsbury level.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Until my next free afternoon, I hope. Will you come again soon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you do on Sundays?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I generally go out with Dick Bruce.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does Dick Bruce consider himself entitled to every Sunday?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I consider myself entitled to Dick!…&rdquo; laughing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re evidently very fond of Dick.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very,&rdquo; with enthusiasm. &ldquo;I have been for twenty-five years.
+We were like the two babies in <i>Punch</i> which said, &lsquo;Help yourself
+and pass the bottle.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dick&rsquo;s a lucky devil. Does he take Saturday afternoons as
+well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; he plays cricket or hockey then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then may I have a Saturday afternoon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be jolly;&rdquo; and a swift gleam in her eyes told him she
+meant it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. I shall consider that a promise. The first Saturday I can
+arrange, we&rsquo;ll run down to some little place on the coast, and get some
+sea air. And if you feel inclined to write me a letter between now and then,
+send it to York Chambers, Jermyn Street.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He pulled up, and instantly she exclaimed in haste:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, there&rsquo;s my bus. Good-bye, thanks awfully; I must fly&rdquo;;
+and before he could get in another word, he saw her clambering on to a
+motor-omnibus, with the utmost unconcern for his sudden, astonished
+solitariness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gad!… what a woman she&rsquo;ll be one day,&rdquo; was his comment.
+&ldquo;If she&rsquo;d a hundred thousand pounds I wouldn&rsquo;t mind marrying
+her myself; she&rsquo;d never let a chap get bored. I&rsquo;ll warrant,&rdquo;
+He moved slowly down Piccadilly. &ldquo;Most of them do,&rdquo; he cogitated;
+&ldquo;it doesn&rsquo;t seem as if there were one woman in a thousand who
+didn&rsquo;t soon become a bore. Heigh-ho, but debts are more boring still
+sometimes, and I want a fifty-thousand cheque badly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hal went to tell Lorraine of her adventure she found her a victim of the
+prevailing malady, kept indoors two days with influenza. She was not in bed,
+but lying on a sofa, by a small fire, looking very frail and ill. Hal did not
+say much, as Lorraine disliked fussing, but her heart smote her to think she
+had been absent two days while her friend was a prisoner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you tell Jean to &rsquo;phone me?&rdquo; she asked.
+&ldquo;I would have got here somehow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instead of answering, Lorraine nestled down into her cushions, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s dreadful nice to see you, chummy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal drew up a footstool, and sat down with her head against the sofa.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What does the court physician say, Lorry? Of course he is generally
+fathering and brothering and mothering you as well as doctoring?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; he is taking care of me in a sort of all-round, comprehensive
+fashion. I don&rsquo;t know what I should do without him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do!…&rdquo; with a little laugh. &ldquo;Why, just have another court
+physician instead.&rdquo; Hal&rsquo;s eyes strayed round the room. &ldquo;What
+loverly flowers, Lorraine! Don&rsquo;t they almost make you feel a
+corpse?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They would if they were white, I dare say.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On a little table by the sofa was a bowl of violets, looking very sweet and
+homely among the beautiful exotics filling all the other vases. Hal buried her
+nose in them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How delicious! Who ventured to send your royal highness anything so
+homely as violets?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine&rsquo;s eyes rested on them with a look of tenderness. &ldquo;Some one
+not very well off,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;who had the perspicacity to know I
+should value them from him more than the choicest blooms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It sounds as if it might have been Dick. Was it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine replied in a careless tone, suggesting there was no special interest
+attached to the giver, but, for some unknown reason, Hal chose to be
+inquisitive.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Three Graces are your only &lsquo;hard-up&rsquo; friends, and Quin
+is down east, so he would not know you were ill. Surely Baby didn&rsquo;t think
+it at all out by himself, and actually go into a shop and buy them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You shouldn&rsquo;t call Mr. Hermon Baby, Hal; it isn&rsquo;t quite
+fair.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes it is, as long as he is so objectless and purposeless. Besides,
+his face is so cherubic I can&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I call his face very manly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, so it is&mdash;in a way: but it&rsquo;s cherubic also; and then
+he&rsquo;s so dreadfully placid. If he&rsquo;d only wake up, and boil over
+about something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was silent a few moments, and then said suddenly;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know Sir Edwin Crathie, Lorraine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; why? I now of him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know of him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nothing much. I believe he is a great lady&rsquo;s man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve met him,&rdquo; said Hal; and she proceeded to tell of the
+motor mishap and subsequent meeting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was interested and amused, but for some strange reason Hal did not
+tell the tale with her usual gusto, and nothing in her voice or manner
+suggested it was more than the most casual of meetings. Lorraine, a little
+preoccupied with her own feelings, for a wonder did not discern that Hal
+treated the incident with a lightness not quite natural, considering how
+exceedingly unlooked-for it was, and before the recital was quite finished Jean
+looked in to inquire if Lorraine would see Mr. Hermon. Lorraine replied in the
+affirmative, and a moment later Alymer Hermon entered the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so sorry you are not well,&rdquo; he said, in his frank,
+pleasant way. &ldquo;I only heard of it last night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then you sent me violets. It was nice of you. I appreciate them so
+much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I guessed Dick,&rdquo; put in Hal, who had not risen from her stool.
+&ldquo;I did not think you would have the energy to think of them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have been feeling rather exhausted since,&rdquo; he told her lightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take the arm chair,&rdquo; said Lorraine smilingly, &ldquo;and have a
+good rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do,&rdquo; echoed Hal. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you are tired out with your
+day&rsquo;s work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be so superior,&rdquo; he retorted. &ldquo;Just because you
+can type a certain number of words per minute, you give yourself such
+airs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s a better reason than the fact of being a few inches
+longer than most people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now you two,&rdquo; put in Lorraine, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t start
+quarrelling in such a hurry. Try and be nice and polite to each other for a few
+minutes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Baby doesn&rsquo;t like me when I&rsquo;m polite,&rdquo; said Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never had a chance to judge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Liar. What about the first time we met?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you were rather nice in those days. Your offensive attitude is
+only of comparatively recent date.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t sit there like a stodgy old book-worm, reeling off
+nicely rounded sentences.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope it might impress you with the incongruity of addressing me as an
+infant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked up from her lowly seat with a mischievous, engaging expression.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know you really are rather clever in a useless sort of
+fashion,&rdquo; she informed him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; making a bow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you tell him how to be clever in a useful sort of fashion,
+with all your practical experience?&rdquo; suggested Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I <i>could</i>; but what&rsquo;s the use? he doesn&rsquo;t want to
+know. It would mean hard work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give him the benefit of a suggestion, anyhow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, other briefless barristers peg away at journalism, and political
+agency work, and coaching, and studying. Baby just sits down and looks nice, as
+if he thought the briefs would come fluttering round him like all the silly,
+pink-cheeked, wide-eyed girls. You ought to have seen our little maid the night
+he dined with us. When she first saw him she seemed to mutter &lsquo;O
+my&rsquo; in a breathless fashion, and when she handed him his plate, she spilt
+all the gravy on to his knee, gazing into his face.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon looked a little annoyed. &ldquo;Very few people can talk absolute rot in
+a clever way,&rdquo; he aimed at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, that drew you, Baby! You look quite ruffled. I was only pulling
+your leg: the pink-cheeked girls don&rsquo;t really flutter round, they run
+away in terror at your scowl. You know he can scowl, Lorraine. At least it
+isn&rsquo;t exactly a scowl; it&rsquo;s more a cast-iron solemnity of such
+degree that it has a Medusa-like effect and freezes the poor little
+peach-blossom girls into putty images.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure Mr. Hermon never gives his personal appearance a
+thought,&rdquo; Lorraine replied, &ldquo;except when you insist upon harping on
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t help it. I feel he&rsquo;s hemmed in with such a sticky,
+treacly, simpering amount of youthful adoration generally, that I simply have
+to rag him for his good!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very kind of you to be so interested in my
+welfare&rdquo;&mdash;a twinkle gleamed suddenly in his blue eyes&mdash;&ldquo;I
+certainly like your way of adoring the best.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah&rdquo;&mdash;with an answering twinkle&mdash;&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t
+think you had guessed my secret. How embarrassing of you! You have positively
+driven me away.&rdquo; She rose to her feet. &ldquo;I must go, Lorry. I
+can&rsquo;t sit out any more. He has discovered that I adore him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You both seem rather imbecile tonight,&rdquo; Lorraine commented;
+&ldquo;but surely it needn&rsquo;t drive you away, Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must go all the same. We have visitors coming. I shall run in again
+tomorrow. Be sure and &rsquo;phone me if there is anything I can do for
+you.&rdquo; She kissed Lorraine, and turned to Hermon. &ldquo;Good-bye.
+Don&rsquo;t display all your best allurements to Lorraine this evening, because
+she isn&rsquo;t strong enough for it. Remember my unhappy plight, and let one
+victim satisfy you for the present.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about your victims?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Dick is kicking the
+toes of his boots thin because he saw you yesterday with Sir Edwin
+Crathie.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal coloured up, much to her own disgust, and greatly to Hermon&rsquo;s
+enjoyment, who immediately followed up his advantage with:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose we shall all have to cry small now, because of the right
+honourable gentleman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will be a puzzler for you to cry small,&rdquo; was her rather feeble
+retort, as she passed out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon came back and reseated himself in the big arm chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I stay?&rdquo; he asked, and Lorraine answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, do,&rdquo; in the frank spirit she had told herself must be her
+attitude towards him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he sat on with an air of content, seeming to fill some place in the pretty
+room by right of an old comradeship, or some blood-tie, or a mutual
+understanding&mdash;an intangible, indefinable attitude that had sprung into
+being between them of itself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine did not talk much, because she was tired, but she let the goodly sight
+of him, and the quiet rest of him, lull and soothe her senses for the passing
+moment without any disturbing questioning. Hermon likewise did not question. He
+liked being there, and she seemed willing for him to stay, and it seemed
+enough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once or twice lately he was conscious that he had been rather foolish with
+different admiring friends of the fair sex; and though he was no prig, and knew
+most men took kisses and caressess when offered, and would have thought it a
+needless throwing away of good things to refuse, he yet felt a little irritated
+with himself and the givers without quite knowing why.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And there was another trying incident over a girl he had met at various
+country-houses the previous summer, and greatly enjoyed a flirtation with.
+Unfortunately, she appeared not to have understood it in the light of a
+flirtation; and now she was writing him miserable, reproachful love-letters
+which had at any rate succeeded in making him wish he had been more
+circumspect. It soothed his ruffled feelings to be with Lorraine; and it
+flattered his vanity to feel that she liked him there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had been sitting quietly some little time when the front-door bell
+announced another caller, and Jean came to inquire if her mistress would see
+Lord Denton. Lorraine half unconsciously glanced at Hermon, and seeing an
+expression of disappointment on his face, said quietly. &ldquo;Ask him to come
+tomorrow, Jean. I am very tired tonight.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jean went away, and presently returned with a loverly bouquet of malmaisons,
+and three or four new books. &ldquo;His lordship will call about twelve,&rdquo;
+she said: &ldquo;and he hopes, if you feel able to go out, you will let him
+take you in his motor.&rdquo; Then she went out, leaving them alone again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the pause that followed, Lorraine lay silently watching him for some
+minutes, wondering what was passing in his mind. Although it was only September
+still, the evenings were drawing in quickly, and there was little light in the
+room except the flickering glow of cheerful flames on the hearth. They caught
+the glint of his hair and shone on his face, throwing the delicate,
+aristocratic features with cameo-like dinstinctness on the black shadow beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine looked again, with the eyes of a connoisseur, and she knew that in
+very truth no merely handsome face and form were here, but a nature and
+character corresponding to the outward beauty of line and lineament. She
+wondered once more as she lay there what it must be to have borne such a son;
+and a surging, aching, tearing pain filled her heart for the longing to have
+known from experience. She felt she could have been a saint among women for
+very joy, and an ideal companion, as well as a mother to such as he.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And instead?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, there were murky corners in the background for her as well as her mother,
+but never from actual seeking. When necessity had not driven her, loneliness
+had, and the gnawing ache of a fine, fearless soul to grasp some satisfaction
+from the sorry scheme of things. And always the satisfaction had passed so
+quickly... so quickly, driving the starved soul back on itself again, with a
+little extra weight added to its burden of bitter knowledge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Was there then no counterpart for her&mdash;no twin soul&mdash;no strong, true
+comrade, to say &ldquo;You and I&rdquo; when sorrow and disillusion came, and
+so rob pain of its deepest sting?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, as if he felt her scrutiny, he turned his face to her slowly, and looked
+into her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know you are looking rather bad,&rdquo; he said a little awkwardly
+and shyly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m awfully sorry. I hope you are taking care of
+yourself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose I should worry much if left to myself,&rdquo; she
+told him, with a touch of lightness; &ldquo;but a very stern physician, and a
+most resolute maid, insist upon giving me every possible attention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t tire you… my being here?…&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I like it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you always want to know the why of things?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I don&rsquo;t as a rule bother much, but this is a
+little amazing, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see why you should think so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He studied the fire again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only that you are at the top of the ladder, and I am at the
+bottom.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was once there too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did it seem as if it would be impossible ever to reach the
+top?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, often. I don&rsquo;t think anything but resolute, iron
+determination ever takes any one up. Influence helps a good many up the lower
+rungs, and saves them a lot of the drudgery, but it cannot do much else, and
+unless one is full of grit and purpose at heart, one sticks there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, it must be a great help to be pulled through the drudgery.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It may mean a good deal of loss also.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose success that is won through favour means half so
+much to the winner as success that is wrenched from Fate by one&rsquo;s own
+resolute hands. The only thing is, one wonders so often afterwards if it has
+been worth while.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you wonder that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!… don&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He said nothing, and she went on:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the same, I imagine I had to succeed or die. I was built that way.
+Nothing less than success would have satisfied me. I often crave for quiet,
+restful happiness now, but if it had been offered then I should have passed it
+by and struggled blindly for fame. Still, it is hard to think how easily one
+can take a false step, and suffer for it till the end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you do that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned his eyes to her again, and she saw as sympathy in them that was
+deeper than any feeling he had shown her yet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I was in a very tight corner, and I took a short cut out. I married
+for money and influence. The step brought me all I anticipated, but it brought
+other things as well, that I had chosen not to remember: nausea, ennui,
+self-disgust, loneliness, emptiness. I think I should never have won through
+without Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is your husband living?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. In America. We have not troubled each other for a long time. I
+suppose I am fortunate in being left alone.&rdquo; She was silent a few
+minutes, and then she told him kindly: &ldquo;Hal says they always chaff you
+about marrying an heiress, for the sake of being rich without any need to work;
+but take my advice, and don&rsquo;t force the hand of Fate before she has had
+time to give you good things in her own time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned to her with a very engaging smile as he answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They chaff me about a good many things, but most of them are a little
+wide of the mark. I haven&rsquo;t any leaning at present towards a paid post as
+husband.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad; but I didn&rsquo;t for a moment suppose you had
+seriously. I wonder what you have a leaning towards?&rdquo; she added.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to succeed.&rdquo; He sat forward suddenly and leaned his
+chin on his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared hard at the
+flames. &ldquo;I care a great deal more about succeeding really than any one
+believes; but I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m not cut out for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like to help you,&rdquo; she said simply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are very good,&rdquo; he answered, still looking hard into the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine got up and moved slowly about the room, touching a flower here, and a
+flower there, and rearranging them with deft fingers. She turned on an electric
+light with a soft shade, and glanced at the books Flip Denton had brought her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon sat back in his chair and watched her. He thought he had never seen her
+lovelier than she looked in the homely simplicity of a graceful tea-gown, and
+her thick black hair coiled in a large loose knot low on her neck. It gave her
+an absurdly youthful air, that somehow seemed far removed from the brilliant
+star as he knew her on the stage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she came towards him, and stood beside him, resting one foot on the fender
+and one hand on the mantelpiece; and he saw, with swift seeing, the shapeliness
+of the long, thin fingers and the graceful, rounded arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are thoughtful, <i>mon ami</i>,&rdquo; she said, with a soft
+lightness. &ldquo;Tell me what you are thinking of.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I don&rsquo;t think I am thinking at all. I feel
+rather as if I were sunning myself in your smiles, like a cat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You like being here, like this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I love it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then come often. Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall bore you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think not. It is pleasant to me also to have some one keeping me
+company in such a natural, homely way. You see, I am very much alone. I have no
+women friends except Hal, who is nearly always engaged; and there are not many
+men one can invite to come and sit by one&rsquo;s fireside. You seem to come so
+naturally and simply. It is clever of you. Very few men could. It is difficult
+to believe you are only twenty-four.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fancy years often do not go for very much. I have travelled about
+alone a great deal. Anyhow, you are just as young for thirty-two as I am old
+for twenty-four.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal has helped to keep me young. She restores me like some patent
+elixir. I suppose I love her more than any one in the world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not surprised,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;A good many people
+love Hal. Dick and Quin just dote on her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked at him keenly a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am spared wasting my affection,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;by her obvious
+contempt for me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She doesn&rsquo;t mean any of it. She only wants to rouse you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, she succeeds in making me feel rather a worm.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine made no comment, but she could not resist a little inward smile at the
+thought of any one making such a man feel a worm. She realised there might be
+no harm in the leavening influence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The clock struck seven, and he gave a start, rising quickly to his feet beside
+her. Lorraine was a little under medium height if anything, and as they stood
+together he seemed to tower above her like some splendid prehistoric human,
+while she appeared as some exquisite miniature, or frail and perfect piece of
+Dresden china.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And again it seemed as if his physical beauty acted upon her with some
+irresistible magnetism, flowing round her and over her and through her, till
+she was enveloped and obsessed by him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His age was nothing, years are mere detail; she felt only that he was a
+splendid creature, and everything in her gloried in it. She rested her hand
+lightly on his arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How big you are. You almost overpower me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He smiled down at her, but it was just a quiet, friendly smile, and she could
+not tell if her touch stirred him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I am rather a monster. It is sometimes a
+nuisance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, don&rsquo;t say that. I am quite sure the first Adam was as big as
+you, and Eve was frightened and ran away, but she wouldn&rsquo;t for the world
+have had him an inch smaller. And every true Eve since has gloried in the man
+who towered above her, and was a little terrifying in his strength. Don&rsquo;t
+let them spoil you,&rdquo; she added with a note of wistfulness, &ldquo;all the
+Eves who must needs follow with or without your bidding.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I imagine Hal will counteract much of that; and the feeling, when I am
+with you, that I am just a great, brainless, useless animal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; you are not that; and you are quite extraordinarily unspoilt as yet.
+Come and see me again soon, when you&rsquo;ve nothing better to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How soon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was looking hard into her face now, almost as if he were only just fully
+realising her beauty, and she flushed a little as she met his ardent eyes and
+answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As soon as you like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Friday is my first free evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The come and dine here quietly. I shall not act this week at all. I
+shall run down to the sea from Saturday to Monday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had intended to go on Friday afternoon, but with his nearness all Flip
+Denton&rsquo;s sage advice vanished from her mind, and instead of running away
+as he urged, she went a step nearer to the temptation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he had gone she sat down in the arm chair he had used, and stared hard at
+the fire. Jean came in to urge her to go to bed, but she only said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I like this room and the fire. Bring me the fish, or whatever it is,
+here. I will go to bed about half-past eight if you like, but not
+before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So she sat on, and in her heart she saw still the fine face, with its unspoiled
+freshness, and felt his presence still filling the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It would seem Fate had brought her and Hal together into the arena of new
+happenings and new feelings, for among the crowded houses of Bloomsbury, in a
+little high-up bedroom near the sky, Hal sat on the edge of her bed leisurely
+brushing her long, bright hair, and pondering a telephone message that had
+asked her to go for a motor ride the following Saturday.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It means putting Amy off,&rdquo; was her final cogitation, &ldquo;but I
+think I&rsquo;ll go. It will be such fun, and I&rsquo;m rather sick of
+work.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So, in spite of strong wills and common-sense warning, we still, as ever, let
+our footsteps follow the alluring paths, and go boldly forth to meet a joy,
+ever careless of the following sorrow that may accompany it, until the hour of
+shunning is past.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<p>
+The following Friday afternoon Lorraine went out with Flip Denton in his motor,
+and among his first questions was:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, how is the foolish falling in love progressing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is stationary. I&rsquo;ve got another friend I want to keep, Flip;
+another friend like you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, I can&rsquo;t pass that. You were never even remotely in sight of
+falling in love with me. And you know what Kipling says: &lsquo;Love&rsquo;s
+like line-work; you can&rsquo;t stand still, you must go backward or
+forward.&rsquo; You don&rsquo;t propose to take my advice and run away from
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not before I am sure there is danger, anyhow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were silent some moments, then she asked him:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do men ever run away, Flip?... My experience has been that the average
+man always has a good try to get what he wants, without much consideration for
+outside things, or for youth, or for harm.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s because beautiful women necessarily come up against the
+worst in men. It is their fate: one of the balancing conditions perhaps to make
+things more even with the less-favoured women.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose great beauty generally undoes a woman. Is it the same with men
+too? It seems a pity when Nature produces anything beautiful she should not
+guard it better&mdash;beautiful flowers, beautiful birds, beautiful creatures
+all ravished the quickest; while the little, comfortable daisies, and sparrows,
+and homely people go serenely on unharmed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not reply, and they sped along in the understanding silence they were
+both so fond of.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Denton was thinking, as a man may, of various pretty faces that had been the
+undoing of their owners, and wondering a little dimly and confusedly about the
+paradoxical contrariness of Nature, who gives a man his strongest desires
+nearly always towards forbidden ends. Why create a beautiful thing, and then
+create a longing for it, and then probably descend in wrath upon both heads
+which did but follow the bent she herself had given them?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was wondering a little bitterly why a man may taste forbidden fruit
+again and again and go unpunished; and why a woman, so often set amid sterner
+temptations, was yet left so strangely unprotected: the one so quickly able to
+put an incident aside, and seek fresh fields for conquest; the other so
+terribly liable to be branded for life in that same incident.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It made a bitterness surge up in her soul for her own unprotected girlhood and
+struggling youth; and for all they had brought her to learn of the tree of
+knowledge. No doubt she had been callous enough about it at the time; eager
+only to dare, and triumph, and achieve; but how should it have been otherwise,
+since no kindly guiding hand had told her she was wasting her powers and her
+substance to achieve an end that would never satisfy her soul?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Did she even know she had a soul that would presently crave a satisfaction
+found only among the higher and better things, and turn away with infinite
+scorn from the petty triumphs of an hour or a day?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, she had fought her fight with the rest, and triumphed greatly in the
+world&rsquo;s eyes; and now she must abide by the path she had chosen, and
+glean the best satisfaction she could out of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Later in the afternoon, when she sat drinking a lonely cup of tea by a lonely
+fireside, the questioning, probing mood returned again; the significant
+&ldquo;and yet&rdquo; still left the last conclusion without any finality.
+Looking backward, a sense of resentment seemed to creep over her; a combative
+desire to get even with Fate about many things while there was time and
+opportunity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She remembered particularly the first man who had tried to lead her astray. He
+had been considerably more than twice her age, a hardened sinner without any
+compunction, with a devilish cunning at breaking down defences without any
+seeming over-persuasion, and at whitewashing his actions into passionate
+devotion to youngn inexperienced years. She remembered how she had struggled to
+resist him. It was good to remember now that she had not been his victim.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet, what of it, while such men could triumph again and again and go
+seemingly unpunished, and young, eager, ambitious souls were often so pitifully
+stranded at the beginning of a career?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Men of his age and his character usually did triumph. How often had she seen it
+since! The first wrong step not a generous-hearted, hot-headed youth; but a
+hardened sinner who had wearied of other hardened sinners and turned his evil
+designs to youth and freshness, hoping perchance to be rejuvenated thereby.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Nature stood by with folded hands, and saw her fairest creations soiled and
+ravished before they had reached maturity, without apparently the smallest
+compunction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her first wrong step had been her marriage, and though it had given her a good
+deal in the beginning, in the end how it had robbed her!... ah! how it had
+robbed her of those things that could never be won back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now, by an unlooked-for turn of events, she found herself among the
+world-wearied ones, asking for the divine freshness of youth. If she chose to
+make him love her she believed she could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stood beside the window and leaned her head against the framework, gazing
+at the river. It was gliding smoothly along now, beautified and glorified by
+the reflected light of a setting sun. How light transfigured!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The murky, muddy, sullen Thames, so often going with its countless burdens, as
+one enslaved unwillingly to the needs of commerce, now flashing, shining,
+silver waters hastening joyfully out to sea. She felt that often and often her
+life had been as the shadowed, murky waters, enslaved unwillingly by bonds that
+circumstances had created.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She thought how his life, the life of this man who was beginning to fill her
+soul, was still like the joyous, shining, waters reflecting sunlight. Was it
+possible she wanted to bring the shadows and dim its silver radiance for her
+own gratifications?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And even so, was it in any case likely to go undimmed much longer? The shadows
+were certain enough to come, if not through her, perhaps through some one with
+less soul, and less fineness of aim, who would do him far greater harm. Her
+love for him was not, at least, entirely selfish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew that she cared very much for his future. She cared very much that life
+should give him a chance to fulfill the best of his promise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And if the chance came by shadows, well, across the river of a man&rsquo;s life
+they flitted lightly enough as a rule, chasing each other away, and leaving the
+waters still flowing joyfully. It was only for a woman, apparently, the shadows
+left a stain that even the sunlight could not chase away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It would seem woman was made a helpmeet for man in many ways beside that of
+keeping his home and bearing his children. How often did he owe his best
+development and best achievements to her, absorbing light from her in some
+mysterious ordering, and soaring away afterwards while she was left among the
+shadows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, by some equally mysterious compensation, a woman was often so fashioned
+that if she could feel the upward flight was won through her, she might rest
+statisfied even though him she loved had soared away. It was the mother-love
+blending strangely with the wife-love; the protecting, inspiring, unselfish,
+mothering instinct, lying in the soul of every true-hearted woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Standing gazing at the flashing river, Lorraine, in the midst of her probing,
+knew that it was his ultimate success and good she wanted, as well as his
+freshness to sweeten her own life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What if she brought a shadow where there would otherwise have been no shadow,
+dimmed a brightness that, without her, had gone undimmed? She knew he was not
+weak naturally. He did not need any strengthening; only impetus, ambition, aim,
+and some safeguarding by the way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled a little drearily at the recollection that it was from her, herself,
+that probably his own people would think he needed safeguarding. She could
+foresee that they would likely enough hurl themselves between him and her,
+oblivious that by doing so they might very possibly be the cause of driving him
+to far worse. But that, of course, no one could help; as how should they know
+the fine shades between the women who lived outside the conventions?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then again, they need not know that the great friendship existed&mdash;why
+should they? After all, few would credit the celebrated, beautiful actress with
+anything beyond a passing fancy for the youthful, briefless barrister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Across every fresh pathway she turned her thoughts along, was still that
+arresting, intangible, &ldquo;and yet&rdquo;.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The pity of it! At least he was strong, and true, and unspoilt now. Why not
+give life a chance to leave him so?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why not give Fate a chance to endow him quickly with the rich, blessed love
+that kept a man walking straight and strong along his steadfast way?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But again the thought came back of what he would lose, what he must inevitably
+lose, if he missed the storm and stress and struggle that are as the mill and
+furnace through which the gold is refined, and hardened, and separated from the
+dross.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went back to the fireside feeling that her probing had brought her
+nowhither, and that she was only very tired and very depressed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she went slowly away to dress, and chose, somewhat to Jean&rsquo;s
+surprise, one of the simplest evening frocks she possessed. Jean, knowing the
+tall, beautiful new friend was coming to dinner, had laid out an elaborate
+dinner-dress, and arranged the jewel cases for selection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Put them away at once,&rdquo; was all her mistress said, with one
+sweeping glance round. &ldquo;I shall wear that little blue Liberty gown and a
+single row of pearls.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Alymer came he found her already seated by the fire, engaged with some
+knitting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How nice and homely,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I never associated you with
+anything so commonplace as sewing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I can&rsquo;t sew very well,&rdquo; with a little
+smile. &ldquo;I can knit this, and that is about all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you better?&rdquo; and he scanned her face critically, in an
+old-fashioned way that gave her secret joy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir, thank you,&rdquo; with a low laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He laughed too, and took up his stand on the hearthrug, with his hands behind
+his back, in a natural, quite-at-home way, that seemed to come easily to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How jolly it is to see a fire. My mater always seems afraid of beginning
+too soon. I think she has a sort of feeling that if winter sees fires started
+he will hurry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never leave them off. My fire is one of my staunchest companions. An
+empty grate always depresses me, because if it is sunny and hot I want to be
+out-of-doors, and if it is not, I want my fire. Let us go to dinner, then we
+can get back and purr over it to our hearts&rsquo; content.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Because it pleased her to make him an honoured guest, Lorraine had been at
+considerable pains in ordering her dinner, and she was gratified to observe
+that it was not wasted on him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Certainly, among other things at Oxford he had learnt to know a good dinner and
+good wine, and enjoy them as a connoisseur. It amused her also to observe that
+the old-fashioned air with which he had inquired a little masterfully after her
+health, grew upon him as the evening progressed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She thought he must be a little bit of a tyrant to his mother, and any one he
+was specially fond of. Not dictatorially so, but with a humorous,
+half-satirical insistence that was very engaging.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the sat over the fire together, later, she found herself telling him many
+things about her early struggles, and first successes, not in the least in a
+&ldquo;talking down&rdquo; attitude, but as to a very sympathetic companion of
+her own age.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was evident he was truly interested, and this made him a charming listener.
+And he told her yet further of his own hopes, and disappointments, and
+discouragements. Several times since he took his degree, one friend or another
+had held out hopeful expectations of being able to put him on to this case of
+that, which might bring a brief. And always the hope had failed, and the
+promise ended in smoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gave him sympathy in her turn, and said she would not raise his
+expectations unkindly, but she believed she could really help him to get a
+start. She would speak to Lord Denton about it. He was always ready to do a
+little thing like that for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is one of those dear people,&rdquo; she told him, &ldquo;who seem to
+try to make up for their own incorrigible laziness by going out of their way to
+put some one else in the way of a start.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She saw the colour deepen in his face, and a subdued light shine in his eyes,
+as he thanked her rather haltingly. The little show of diffidence was very
+charming. How far removed, how amazingly far removed he was from the average
+good-looking youth of twenty-four, who was usually so anxious to impress every
+one with his attributes and his powers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And he was not even average. Every time she saw him she wondered afresh at his
+extraordinary wealth of attraction. One could have forgiven him a few airs and
+mannerisms; but no forgiveness was asked: in every single phrase she found him
+always the modest, unassuming, high-bred gentleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they sat on and talked, and for the time being the warfare of the afternoon
+passed from her mind. Probing seemed suddenly out of place. Why probe?... Their
+friendship had slipped of itself into an old companionship. What need for more?
+She knew instinctively he would come often to fill her lonely hours, and tell
+her all about his work and his doings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And sometimes they would go out together on little jaunts. If they did, who
+need know, or who, at any rate, need gossip? She felt a gladness grow in her
+mind at the thought of the happy friendship they might have; guarded perhaps
+from harm by the disparity in their years, and at the same time of inestimable
+benefit to him, and pleasure to her. She felt almost motherly as she laid her
+fingers lightly on his arm, with a little laughing jest, as they stood together
+before parting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have enjoyed my evening of invalidism so much. Come and see me again
+soon, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should love to. You are very good to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no; I&rsquo;m not. Don&rsquo;t let us talk of goodness in that way.
+I like your company; and it is good to have what one likes. I shall expect you
+again soon, Alymer&mdash;I may call you Alymer, mayn&rsquo;t I?... Mr. Hermon
+is so overpowering.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish you would. I would have asked you, only I was afraid you might
+think it cheek.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well then, <i>Alymer</i>,&rdquo; with emphasis, &ldquo;when I have
+spoken to Lord Denton I will telephone you; and I hope he will be able to start
+you off on a road that will very nearly end in a verdict of &lsquo;Suffocated
+with briefs.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or &lsquo;briefly suffocated&rsquo;,&rdquo; he laughed, and beat a hasty
+retreat, for fear of a reprisal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he had gone, Lorraine sat again in the firelight, and it seemed as if the
+stress and unrest had fallen from her, and only the memory of a pleasant
+companionship remained. They were going to be the best of pals&mdash;why
+not&mdash;and why seek to probe any further?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Apparently he was not susceptible, and cared more for his profession than any
+one supposed, and so, since she liked to have him there to glory in his
+comeliness, they could form a mutual benefit society, and no one need be hurt
+at all. It was all quite simple, and she went to bed feeling rested and
+refreshed, and looking forward hopefully for the pleasant meetings to come?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Flip Denton was running down to Brighton for the weekend also, to take her out
+on the Sunday in his car; and he noticed at once that a shadow which had
+hovered over her eyes of late had vanished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are looking topping,&rdquo; he told her. &ldquo;What about the love
+affair, is it all satisfactorily off? It has been worrying you a little of
+late.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not exactly off,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;but it is more
+satisfactorily placed. We are going to be real good pals. He is going to keep
+me company in some of my lonely hours, and I am going to try and help him to
+get briefs. I am relying on you for the first one, Flip.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The dickens you are. My dear girl, why should I put myself out to
+acquire a brief for a rival?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, just because you are you. You know you will love it, Flip! You will
+get him a brief, and then you will pat yourself on the back and say: &lsquo;I
+know I&rsquo;m a lazy dog myself, but I&rsquo;m a devil of a good chap at
+getting other fellows work.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I am&rdquo;&mdash;enjoying her thrust&mdash;&ldquo;and it&rsquo;s a
+splendid line, and gives far more satisfaction in the end. If I tried to work I
+should only make a mess of it, and drive some one nearly crazy, whereas, in
+putting another chap on to a job I give such a lot of folks pleasure, I feel I
+am getting square with the Almighty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you&rsquo;ll try, Flip?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is humanly possible, he shall have a brief of his very own within the
+next month.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a dear. Sometimes I think you are the most adorable person I
+know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t think it long enough at a time, Lorry. You are too prone
+to go off suddenly after false gods measuring six-foot-five-and-a-half inches
+and with the faces of Apollo Belvederes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably it is a merciful precaution on the part of our guardian angels,
+Flip; and, anyhow, you know you like a little variation yourself in the way of
+bulk, and sound, practical, indecorous chorus girldom.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; was his unabashed affirmative. &ldquo;Nice, comfortable,
+elevating palliness with you; and a right down rollicking bust-up occasionally
+with the ladies of the unpretending school of wild oats.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want my giant for the present to be satisfied with his palliness with
+me and his work. Do you think he will?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As I haven&rsquo;t seen him I can&rsquo;t say. If I get the chance,
+however, I&rsquo;ll tell him that &lsquo;wild oats&rsquo; are the very devil,
+and I&rsquo;d give all I&rsquo;ve got to have stuck to work and had naught to
+do with &rsquo;em.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know you wouldn&rsquo;t, Flip,&rdquo; with a little laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I couldn&rsquo;t, you mean; but I never admit it to
+juniors.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you shall come to the flat to meet him. If he gets a brief,
+we&rsquo;ll have a little dinner party, and I&rsquo;ll ask Hal and her cousin
+and St. Quintin.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are. I haven&rsquo;t seen Miss Pritchard for ages. Shall we
+turn now, and go back by Rottingdean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us go whichever way has the best view of the sea. I feel I want to
+look at wide, breezy spaces for a while, and not talk at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You shall,&rdquo; he promised, and they sped along in silence.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hall sat on the side of her bed, brushing her hair and meditating on her
+irritation, she had not misjudged when she anticipated great enjoyment from an
+afternoon run with her new friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It would have been difficult indeed to say who enjoyed it the most. Hal was in
+great form, and Sir Edwin Crathie half unconsciously took his tone from her,
+dropping his usual attitude towards women he liked, and adopting instead one as
+gay and careless and inconsequent as hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not in the nature of the man to desist from flirting with her, but his
+pretty speeches were coupled with a humour and chaff that robbed them of any
+pointedness, and merely resulted in an amusing amount of parry and thrust, over
+which they both laughed whole-heartedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are an absolute witch,&rdquo; he told her as they sat enjoying a big
+tea at an hotel on the south coast; &ldquo;ever since we started you have made
+me behave more or less like a school-boy, and a tea like this is the
+climax.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good thing I am the only witness,&rdquo; she laughed.
+&ldquo;The poorness of your jokes alone would have horrified your colleagues,
+but to see you eating such a tea must have meant a request for your
+resignation&mdash;it is so incompatible with the dignity of a Cabinet
+Minister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had almost forgotten I was a Cabinet Minister. Gad! but it&rsquo;s
+nice to get right away from the cares of office occasionally like this. When
+will you come again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t think I must come any more,&rdquo; roguishly.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure Brother Dudley will not consent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What has Brother Dudley go to do with it?… Did he consent this
+time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not exactly. I anticipated his willingness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You little fibber. You mean you anticipated his firm refusal, and took
+French leave, so that you need not disobey him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is true that Dudley and I differ occasionally, but I do not disobey
+him… if I can help it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you took French leave this time, you can easily do it
+again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But this time it was a novelty. I was curious to find out how I should
+enjoy an afternoon with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rubbish. You knew perfectly well you would enjoy it immensely. So did I.
+Two people who like each other always know those kind of things at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal leaned back in her chair, and her expressive mouth twitched in a way that
+made him long to kiss it hard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are occasions when I don&rsquo;t like you at all,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fibber again. When don&rsquo;t you like me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Chiefly when you are quite positive certain sure that I do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that is never; so you are a fibber.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you seemed particularly confident nine seconds ago.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was only teasing you. I could hardly have been serious after you have
+called me a worm, and an old man. So now&mdash;when will you come again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In about a month. Let&rsquo;s go out as Guys on the fifth of
+November.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A month be blowed! I want to know which day next week?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am full up next week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Full up of what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine Vivian, Dick Bruce, Quin, the Beloved Chief, and the
+Baby.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a list! Is Lorraine Vivian the actress? Who are Quin and the
+Baby?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is… and they are!…&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who does the Baby belong to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be difficult to say. About a dozen probably claim him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And doesn&rsquo;t he know his own mother?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I wasn&rsquo;t thinking of mothers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who were you thinking of?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The ladies who have lost their hearts to him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. Are you one of them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not. You see, his beauty has never struck me all of a heap, because
+I&rsquo;ve got so used to it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is he a beautiful baby, or a youth, or a man?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A bit of all three. He stands 6 ft. 5 &frac12; in., and is superbly
+handsome. I call him sometimes, for variation, the stuffed blue-and-gold
+Apollo.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s better than &lsquo;a positive worm&rsquo;,&rdquo;
+laughing, &ldquo;but I don&rsquo;t mind him. Who is Quin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quin is a philanthropist, sentimentalist, and hero. He spends his life
+working in the East End.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mind him either, and Dick Bruce I&rsquo;ve seen. The
+actress doesn&rsquo;t count, and your precious chief you see every day. Now,
+then, when will you come again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got up from his seat and came round to her side of the table. He had a vague
+intention of imprisoning her hand, and perhaps her waist, but some
+indescribable quality held him off. It was difficult to suppose she did not
+half guess what was in his mind, and yet, without showing the smallest
+consciousness or shyness, she faced him with a look so boyishly frank and open
+it utterly disarmed him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not a bit more persuasive on my right side than my left, and I have
+promised next Saturday to the Three Graces&mdash;who are Dick and Quin and
+Baby. We are going to the Crystal Palace to see a football match.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what about Sunday?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I can&rsquo;t come on Sunday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know, except that it usually belongs to Dudley or Dick.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Next Sunday needn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s what I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes you do.&rdquo; He moved a little nearer. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to
+keep next Sunday for me. It&rsquo;s my turn. We&rsquo;ll have a splendid day.
+We&rsquo;ll take Peter, and we&rsquo;ll start early and fly down to the New
+Forest. It&rsquo;s glorious in the autumn. We&rsquo;ll have a picnic-lunch, and
+tea at an hotel on the way back. So that&rsquo;s settled.&rdquo; He got up, and
+lifted her ulster from the back of a chair. &ldquo;Now come along, and
+we&rsquo;ll slip home before it gets late enough to cause trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal let it pass for the time, and got into her ulster. She was clever enough to
+see the advantage of retaining a way of escape if she changed her mind, or
+accepting the invitation if she wanted to later on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew perfectly well a girl did not always go out for a whole day with a man
+like Sir Edwin with impunity; but she had also something of contempt for a girl
+who missed a great treat for want of pluck. She preferred to leave the question
+open, and if she badly wanted to go at the end of the week she would not, at
+any rate, stay away because she was afraid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As it happened, circumstances played into Sir Edwin Crathie&rsquo;s hands.
+About Wednesday, with a diffidence that made Hal secretly amused and secretly
+curious, Dudley asked her if she would mind if he was away for the whole day on
+Sunday. As she was generally away herself as long as the summer lasted, she
+wondered why he should ask her in that manner. It was just as they had finished
+breakfast, and he busied himself with his pipe-rack as he made the
+announcement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I don&rsquo;t mind,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Are you going into
+the country?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ye-es.&rdquo; He seemed about to add something further, but changed his
+mind. Hal, with a little inward chuckle, divined by his manner he must be going
+somewhere with a lady, and she was pleased, as she liked a man to have woman
+friends, believing they made him more broad-minded and tolerant and
+generous-hearted if well-chosen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She asked no further question, however, and Dudley commenced to whistle softly
+as he drew on his boots. Evidently his mind was somewhat relieved after the
+sentence was said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So now it remained to discover Dick&rsquo;s attitude. She could, of course,
+quite easily put him off; but she was not quite prepared to do this of her own
+initiative, as he had so generously placed all his Sundays at her disposal. On
+Friday, however, he was speaking to her through the telephone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Hal, you&rsquo;re coming to the Footer match tomorrow,
+aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, of course I am. Why?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s just this way. I was going to motor the pater to Aunt
+Judith&rsquo;s, and I forgot all about it. He wants me to take him on Sunday
+instead. What shall I do?... Would you care to come too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal had not the smallest wish to go to Aunt Judith&rsquo;s, who belonged to the
+old school, and disapproved in a most outspoken manner of lady-clerks of every
+sort and description. It was a constant grievance to her, when she set eyes on
+Hal,that she did not gratefully accept &pound;20 as secretary to a well-known,
+interesting editor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In consequence, Hal encountered her as little as possible, accepted gratefully
+her interesting, easy billet, and consigned the imaginary young children to a
+Hades peopled with nursery governesses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Awfully sweet and good and kind of you, Dicky dear,&rdquo; she called
+back to him mockingly, &ldquo;but I think I&rsquo;ll practise a little
+self-denial this time, and stay away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Odd you should say that,&rdquo; he laughed, &ldquo;because I consider
+I&rsquo;m practising a little self-denial in going. What shall you do with
+yourself? Will Dudley be at home?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; he&rsquo;s going somewhere for the day, that has a nervous,
+apologetic sort of air about it. I didn&rsquo;t press for particulars, but
+I&rsquo;m dying to know. I can&rsquo;t believe he would really take a gay young
+person out, and yet, judging by his manner, it might be a real flyer from
+Daly&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good old Dudley!... Then I suppose you will go to Lorraine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I daresay I shall. Good-bye, see you Saturday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal returned to her work in a meditative mood. She was beginning to wonder why
+she had not had any message from Sir Edwin all the week. Had he changed his
+mind, or had he possibly forgotten? If he rang her up presently what was she
+going to say?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The notion that he had perhaps forgotten was not pleasing; and yet, with all he
+must have to think about during the week, it was equally not surprising. As a
+matter of fact, it had been a most trying week for all Ministers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The party was emphatically growing into disfavour, and all brains had to be
+utilised to find the most efficacious remedy. Sir Edwin had been very useful in
+his suggestions, for he had had considerable practice in getting what he wanted
+by artfulness if no straighter mode offered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His suggestions to His Majesty&rsquo;s Cabinet were masterpieces of political
+trickery, and their adoption was a foregone conclusion in spite of the
+Ministers who raised objections. The party had to win back favour somehow, and
+at any rate his were the best plans that offered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But all through the stirring meetings of the week he never once forgot Hal. His
+silence was merely an adaptation of the policy he was urging upon his
+colleagues. &ldquo;If I leave her alone till Friday she will get piqued,&rdquo;
+was his thought, &ldquo;and then she will come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Accordingly, soon after the luncheon hour he rang her up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo,&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;At last I have got a moment to speak to
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What has happened to all the other moments?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve had a very anxious, worrying week in the House. I&rsquo;ve
+scarcely had time to get my meals. You surely didn&rsquo;t suppose I had
+forgotten you&mdash;did you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t suppose either way. It didn&rsquo;t matter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man at the other end of the wire smiled openly in his empty room.
+&ldquo;Prevaricator,&rdquo; was his thought &ldquo;but, by Gad, she&rsquo;s
+game.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, anyhow I hadn&rsquo;t, and I wasn&rsquo;t likely to. I only hope
+you haven&rsquo;t made another engagement for Sunday? I&rsquo;m badly in need
+of a long day in the country. Are you still free?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It depends&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nonsense; you can&rsquo;t desert me at the last moment. If I
+can&rsquo;t get that day off to run down to the New Forest, I shall have to go
+to a tiresome political luncheon party. Now, be patriotic, and serve your
+country by attending to the needs of one of her harassed Ministers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am always patriotic.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then that settles it. I suppose I&rsquo;d better not call for you.
+I&rsquo;ll pick you up at South Kensington Station at 9.30. Peter will make an
+excellent chaperone, so you needn&rsquo;t worry&mdash;good-bye&rdquo;; and he
+rang off, leaving Hal to hang up the receiver, not quite sure whether she had
+been trapped or not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At his end he moved across to a window with the smile still lingering on his
+face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing like making up a woman&rsquo;s mind for her,&rdquo; he mused;
+&ldquo;they&rsquo;re all alike when they are on the edge of the stream,
+hesitating about the plunge. Give &rsquo;em a little shove, and once
+they&rsquo;re in they swim out boldly enough. The trouble is, when they want to
+keep the whole river for themselves and will not brook any other swimmers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I expect I&rsquo;m going to have a devil of a time with Gladys, and
+she&rsquo;ll take a lot of squaring. Women are the deuce when you&rsquo;re
+short of funds. But I can&rsquo;t help being susceptible, and Hal has caught my
+fancy altogether. Dear little girl, I expect she&rsquo;ll want a big shove yet
+before she&rsquo;ll take the real plunge. But it&rsquo;s interesting, by Jove!
+it&rsquo;s interesting; and when she looks a veiled defiance at me with those
+candid, mischievous eyes of hers, I know I&rsquo;ve got to win somehow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal went back to her work, feeling a little as if she had been swept off her
+feet; and she was not entirely without misgivings. The possible impropriety of
+going out alone with a man for the whole day did not trouble her, but the
+nature of the man, she was shrewd enough to perceive, was a doubtful point.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course she was perfectly aware that Aunt Judith, for instance, and Dudley,
+and probably her mother, had she been alive, would have been scandalised at
+such a proceeding; but then she had pluckily fended for herself so long, she
+did not consider she was any longer called upon to mould her actions according
+to their views. She belonged to the large army of women who have to spend so
+much of their time on office chairs that their comparatively few hours of
+pleasure have no room for the ordinary conventions that hem round the leisured,
+home-walled maiden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If a treat offered, and it was reasonably within bounds, they took it and were
+thankful and gave no thought to the possibly uplifted hands of horror among
+possibly restricted relatives. She was one of those who enjoy the freedom of
+the American girl, without being of those who, unfortunately, often fall short
+of her level-headed characteristics; largely perhaps through those very
+uplifted hands which suggest harm, where harm otherwise might never have been
+thought of.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not, now, any suggestions born of uplifted hands that gave Hal that
+faint misgiving. It was that growing doubt concerning the nature of the man,
+and a consciousness that she was unduly pleased the treat was actually to take
+place&mdash;a growing consciousness that in spite of the doubt she cared more
+about seeing Sir Edwin Crathie than most men, with a like recognition that this
+might seriously endanger her own peace of mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was all very well to go out together on a basis of good-fellowship and
+mutual enjoyment, so long as neither cared anything beyond; but what if this
+unmistakable attraction he exercised over her deepened and widened? What if the
+commonplace, middle-class Hal Pritchard, secretary and typist, fell in love
+with Sir Edwin Crathie, the Cabinet Minister, and nephew of Lord St. Ives?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she thrust the thought away, and apostrophised herself for a silly goose,
+who deserved to get hurt if she had not more sense. Was he not twice her age,
+and brilliantly clever (so his own party said), and so obviously out of her
+range altogether that it would be sheer stupidity to allow herself to feel
+anything beyond the frank fellow-ship they now enjoyed? She insisted vigorously
+to herself that it would, and went off to have dinner with Lorraine, who was
+once more delighting her London audience nightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a curious thing which occured to both afterwards, that there had been
+some indefinable change, observable in each to each, dating from that
+particular evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was more contentedly gay than she had been for some time&mdash;a
+quiet, natural light-heartedness, born of some attainment that was giving her
+joy. Hal was not clever enough to actually perceive this, but she did perceive
+that a certain restless, anxious indecision of manner and plans had passed
+away. For the time being Lorraine was happy in a sense she had not been over
+her success. That Alymer Hermon had anything to do with it never entered
+Hal&rsquo;s head. She had treated the whole matter of Lorraine&rsquo;s
+attraction to him with the lightness that seemed its only claim, and scarcely
+remembered it at all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet, all the time, it was the young giant who was bringing the soothing and
+restfulness into the actress&rsquo;s storm-tossed life. He was beginning to be
+with her constantly&mdash;to come to her with all his doings, and his imagings,
+and his hopes. And, as she had suspected, natural or unnatural, he was the
+companion of all others who gave her the most pleasure at the time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+World-wearied and brain-wearied with her own unsatisfying successes, she found
+a new interest in entering into his projects, and scheming and dreaming for his
+future instead of her own.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was quite open to herself about the probability that she would have felt
+nothing of the kind had he been merely a giant, or had he been plain. It was
+the rare, and indeed remarkable combination of such physical attributes, with
+brains, and nobility and an utter absence of all assumption.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She forgot about his youth and a certain natural crudity; and what he lacked in
+experience and development she easily balanced with the extraordinary physical
+attraction that had never ceased to sway her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the rest, the future might go. Her friendship would not hurt him, and his
+had become necessary to her. If they dreamed over a volcano, what of it? Most
+dreams for such lives as hers usually were in close proximity to sudden
+destruction. Waves from nowhere came up and overwhelmed them. Rocks from unseen
+heights fell on them and crushed them. If she was wise she would take what the
+present offered, and leave the future alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Hal, on the other hand, had developed something of the restlessness that
+had fallen from Lorraine. The new element dawning in her life was not a restful
+one; neither did it lend itself to her usual spontaneous chaff and gay
+badinage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She told Lorraine about her afternoon drive, without giving half the
+particulars she would have done ordinarily; and when Lorraine asked her about
+Sunday, she only said she was perhaps going for another run with Sir Edwin.
+Lorraine did not press the point, because she was having a day with Alymer, and
+was chiefly glad that Hal was happily provided with a companion to take
+Dick&rsquo;s place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she went off to her theatre, and Hal went home, wishing the next day were
+Sunday.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+Dudley hardly knew, himself, why he spoke diffidently about his plans for
+Sunday, and why he did not tell Hal outright that he was taking Doris Hayward
+to a picnic at Marlow, given by mutual friends of his and theirs&mdash;friends
+of the old vigorous days, when he and Basil Hayward had gone everywhere
+together, and Hal had still been a boisterous schoolgirl. Perhaps he felt she
+might seem to have been rather unkindly left out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a matter of fact, an invitation to include his sister had been given; but,
+for reasons he hardly stopped to face, he chose not to mention it. That was
+after he had learnt from a visit to the little Holloway flat that nothing would
+persuade Ethel to leave her brother, who had been ailing more than usual of
+late, and Doris would accompany him alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had been with a curious mixture of feelings he had heard this. Things were
+very pitiful up at the little flat, and though his inmost sympathy had gone out
+generously enough to both girls, with a perversity born of narrow insight he
+had reserved the deepest of it for Doris.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It seemed to him that she was so young to face such circumstances, and at such
+an early age to become saddened by the vicissitudes of life. In the depths of
+her wide blue eyes he saw unshed tears, and the little droop of her pretty
+mouth went straight to his heart. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, and
+kiss her and pet her till she was again all sunshine and smiles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not unaware that Ethel probably suffered more, but her way of showing
+it, or perhaps hiding it, appealed to him less. Instead of that mute distress
+of unshed tears, her quiet eyes wore an inscrutable veil. It was as if the
+anguish behind the veil were something too terrible and too sacred to be looked
+upon by a workaday world; but Dudley only knew that a wall of reserve was
+between him and her trouble.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And her firm, strong mouth had no engaging droop at the corners. It was only if
+anything a little firmer, almost to sternness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley believed that Basil was dying at last, after his weary martyrdom, and he
+believed that Ethel knew it; and in some vague way it hurt him that she gave no
+sign, and refused to be drawn into any speech concerning his increased
+weakness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris, on the other hand, spoke of it in a faltering, tearful voice, adding a
+little pitifully that it made it harder for her that Ethel was so distant and
+unsympathetic.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a sense the circumstances nonplussed Dudley altogether. Some inner voice
+told him that such a depth of wondrous, unselfish devotion as Ethel showed to
+her invalid brother could not live in the same heart with hardness and want of
+sympathy; and yet there was the evidence of the swimming, melting eyes and
+drooping lips of the younger sister left out in the cold.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps it was unfortunate that on that very evening of Dudley&rsquo;s visit
+Ethel had come home rather earlier than her wont, to find Doris not yet
+returned from her daily outing, and, in consequence, the fire out and the sick
+man shivering with cold. He had looked so dreadfully ill that she had hastened
+first to get some brandy to revive him, only to find Doris had forgotten her
+promise to get the empty bottle replaced that morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In desperation she had hastened to the other little flat on the same floor,
+hoping its inmate might chance to have a little to lend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The tenant was a lonely, harsh-featured spinster, who eked out a precarious
+living by teaching music. Ethel knew her slightly, as a gaunt woman who usually
+toiled up the stairs with a sort of scornful weariness of herself and
+everything else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew that because she was not fashionable, nor striking, nor well-dressed,
+she taught mostly in rather second-rate schools, and often had to take long
+journeys to her pupils, coming home tired and worn at night to an empty,
+comfortless little dwelling, to light her own fire and cook her own evening
+meal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew, too, that she was a gentlewoman, the daughter of a poor clergyman,
+left penniless, to fight a hard world alone. Had her own home been happier, she
+would gladly have asked her to join them sometimes; but the weight of
+Basil&rsquo;s illness, and her own usual condition of weariness, had left the
+invitation always unspoken.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A little brandy,&rdquo; the music-teacher echoed, with a quick note of
+concern; &ldquo;yes, I believe I have a drop. Is it your brother? Let me come
+and see if I can help?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; Ethel had replied, trying not to allow her voice to
+show how much she would have preferred not to accept the proffered help.
+&ldquo;I think I can manage quite well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the gaunt spinster followed her across the little landing obstinately. She
+had seen Doris out half an hour before, and knew that she had not yet returned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, you have no fire,&rdquo; she said, in her somewhat grating voice;
+&ldquo;if you will let me I will light it,&rdquo; and without more ado she had
+procured coals and wood for herself, and was down on her knees before the empty
+grate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel turned away with a sick, helpless feeling over Doris&rsquo; selfishness,
+and after administering a few drops of brandy, chafed the sick man&rsquo;s
+hands and feet. When Basil felt better he glanced up curiously at the strange,
+dried-up-looking female who had just succeeded in persuading a cheerful blaze
+to brighten the room. She looked back into his face frankly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t mind me,&rdquo; she informed him; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+only the music-teacher from the opposite flat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You seem to be rather a kind sort of music-teacher,&rdquo; he said, with
+his winsome smile, &ldquo;even if you do only come from the opposite
+flat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hard face relaxed a very little, and she shrugged her shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, well, it isn&rsquo;t easy to be kind,&rdquo; she answered,
+&ldquo;when you don&rsquo;t stand for much else in the universe but a letter of
+the alphabet.&rdquo; She turned back to her grate and commenced sweeping up the
+ashes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil roused himself a little further and looked interested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What letter do you stand for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just G.&rdquo; She gave a low, harsh laugh. &ldquo;G is the letter that
+distinguishes my flat from the others, and it is all I stand for to God or
+man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see.&rdquo; His white, pain wrung face looked extraordinarily kind.
+&ldquo;Well, G, I&rsquo;m very deeply grateful to you for coming across to
+light my fire; and I&rsquo;m glad there happened to be a G in the universe this
+afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned her head away sharply, that neither of them might see the sudden,
+swift mist that dimmed her eyes, but she only answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the same, if there had been no G, and no you, the universe would
+have had an atom less pain in it, and no one have been any the worse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s where you&rsquo;re wrong,&rdquo; he told her,
+&ldquo;because Ethel couldn&rsquo;t have done without me, and if you put your
+head in at my door occasionally, and just remark to F that G is across the
+passage, F will be glad the universe didn&rsquo;t decide to leave G out of the
+alphabet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The woman looked at him a moment with a curious expression in her eyes. Then
+she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if <i>you</i> can take the insult of a maimed, or joyless, or
+cursed life like that, it oughtn&rsquo;t to be so very hard for me to be glad I
+happened to be able to come over and light your fire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor so very hard to come again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!…&rdquo; she hesitated, then said to him, looking half-defiantly
+towards Ethel: &ldquo;Time after time, when I thought you were alone,
+I&rsquo;ve wanted to just look in and see if you were all right. But I
+didn&rsquo;t like to. People don&rsquo;t take to me as a rule, and I&rsquo;m…
+I&rsquo;m… well, I&rsquo;m not an ingratiating sort of person, and I guessed,
+probably, you&rsquo;d all rather do without any help I had to give.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was kind of you to think of us at all,&rdquo; Ethel said, not quite
+sure whether Basil would like her to come in or not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You guessed wrong,&rdquo; was his answer. &ldquo;<i>I</i> think it would
+be very nice of you to look in occasionally. It certainly seems rather absurd
+for you to be all alone there, and I all alone here, when we both want a little
+company. I&rsquo;m sure the alphabet was not meant to be so unsociable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It just depends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She got up from her kneeling posture on the hearth, and stood, a grotesque
+apparition enough, looking at him with her greenish, nondescript eyes. Her
+hay-coloured hair was tightly drawn back from a high, bulging forehead, her
+eyebrows were so light they scarcely showed at all, while her nose, which
+started in a nice straight line, had failed her at the last moment by suddenly
+taking an upward turn in an utterly incongruous fashion. She had high
+cheek-bones, a parchment skin, and a mouth that was not much more than a slit;
+the grotesque effect of the whole being heightened by a long, thin neck, which
+she made no effort to cover with a neat high collar, but accentuated by a
+half-and-half untidily loose one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She wore a cheap, ready-made blouse, with absurd little bows tacked on down the
+front, which Ethel longed to abolish with one sweep, and her skirt, which had
+shrunk considerably in front, sagged in a dejected fashion behind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet to Basil&rsquo;s kindly eyes, there was something behind it all that was
+attractive. For one thing, she was so eminently sincere. One felt she had no
+delusions whatever, concerning her appearance or her oddities; and though she
+looked out upon life with that scornful, resentful air, she had yet a keener
+sense of humour and a clearer brain than most women. Under different
+circumstances she might have been a success.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As it was, she appeared to have got into a wrong groove altogether, and, unable
+to extricate herself, to have merely become an oddity. Basil, from his couch,
+looked up at her with friendly eyes, and she finished:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One may want a little company, without wanting just any company.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think you will find me even duller than nothing?&rdquo; and his eyes
+twinkled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know I didn&rsquo;t mean that. You are clever, and well-read, and
+probably fastidious. I&rsquo;m… well, you see what I am! and no good for
+anything except trying to restrain horrible children from thumping till they
+break the notes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you said you were a music-teacher?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what they call it,&rdquo; with a dry grimace; &ldquo;but
+when I dare to be honest, I have too much respect for music.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you won&rsquo;t have to weary your soul restraining me from
+thumping anything, so it will be a change to come and talk to me. We&rsquo;ll
+turn the tables, and I&rsquo;ll try and restrain you from thumping the universe
+too hard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be much more to the point if we thumped together: I, because
+I&rsquo;m not wanted, and it&rsquo;s an insult to foist me on to mankind
+whether I like it or not; and you, because… well, because you are a strong man
+cursed with helplessness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, if you come in that particular mood, we&rsquo;ll just play
+football with the bally old universe, so to speak. The main point to me is,
+that we take a rise out of the powers that be, by being a source of
+entertainment occasionally to each other. As our alphabetical significance in
+the general scheme is next door to each other, we may as well get what we can
+out of the circumstance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned aside, looking half humorous and half satirical.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It sounds well enough as you say it, but I expect the powers are
+sneering diabolically at us both. However, if you&rsquo;ll let me try to be
+some sort of company, I&rsquo;ll come across again soon&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A latch-key was heard in the door, and a moment later Doris entered. When she
+saw the two women she looked taken aback, and stammered something about not
+knowing the time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I got in Basil&rsquo;s fire was out, and he was perished with
+cold,&rdquo; Ethel said coldly; &ldquo;and as I had to go to Miss... Miss
+-&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Call it G,&rdquo; put in the music-teacher, with a comical twist of her
+mouth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&mdash;for brandy, she came over and lit the fire for me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t help not knowing the time,&rdquo; Doris murmured in a
+low, grumbling voice, and went away to take her hat off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The music-teacher glanced from one to the other, as if about to say something,
+but changed her mind and moved towards the door. On the threshold she looked
+back, and said in her short, dry way:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If F wants anything of G, G will be ready to come instantly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; Basil and Ethel replied together, the former adding,
+&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t forget to put your head in at the door occasionally, by
+way of a reminder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel said no more to Doris, because she felt it useless, but her silence as
+they prepared the evening meal together signified her disapproval. She was
+deeply worried about Basil&rsquo;s failing strength, and longed to speak of it
+to someone who could understand; but felt such selfish forgetfulness as Doris
+showed shut her out from any sympathetic discussion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Dudley came, and while Doris looked woebegone and sad, Ethel&rsquo;s face
+was a little stern with stress and anxiety. Basil tried valiantly to be
+cheerful enough for all three, but the effort cost him almost more strength
+than he could muster.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After Dudley had gone, carrying with him the image of Doris&rsquo;s plaintive
+prettiness and pathetic solitariness, and thinking gladly of the pleasure it
+would be to take her to Marlow on Sunday, Ethel slipped on her knees beside
+Basil&rsquo;s couch, overcome for a moment by the burden of his suffering, and
+the difficulties of their lives.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Often after Dudley had been, and some little act or glance or word had seemed
+to emphasise the barrier between them, her yearning over Basil had broken down
+her courage. When she had lost them both, what would become of her then? was
+the question that utterley undid her, finding no reply beyond a sense of empty
+darkness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She told herself she would go right away to another land&mdash;to some far
+colony&mdash;where she could begin life afresh, with her haunting memories kept
+in the background. She would not stay to see the awakening come to Dudley, if
+Doris were his wife, nor struggle through the long months at the General Post
+Office, when the end of each day&rsquo;s labour brought no welcoming smile from
+Basil.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She would not settle down alone in a dingy little flat as their opposite
+neighbour, to become a mere letter of the alphabet to God and man, surrounded
+by countless other cyphers of as little meaning and account. She would go away
+to some new, young land, with her vigour and her courage, and carve out a path
+with some semblance of reality and value.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only, could she ever get away from the awful emptiness that would come to her
+with the loss of Basil, and the utter lack of any incentive to carry on the
+unequal struggle?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil laid his hand on her bowed head, and for a little while seemed unable to
+speak. Then he steadied his voice, and rallied her with his brave, whimsical
+thoughts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wouldn&rsquo;t the dear old pater have enjoyed G? She&rsquo;s just the
+kind of oddity he doted on. Fancy her teaching music of all things. It must be
+only scales and exercises. I think she&rsquo;s splendid to see the incongruity
+herself, and refuse to call it music when she dare be honest. What a grotesque
+figurehead she looks, chum, doesn&rsquo;t she? I thoroughly enjoyed talking to
+her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Ethel could not answer to his cheeriness just yet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Basil, why are so many humans just mere letters of the alphabet in the
+general scheme?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had slid into a sitting posture now, and leaned her head against his arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t matter so much about the men; they can go out into the
+world and make friends by the way, and become something more if they wish; but
+what of the single women, who have to work for their living, and have nothing
+much to look forward to but a sort of terror as to what will become of them
+when they can work no more? If you could see some of them at the office, with
+that drawn, dried-up, joyless look, scraping and saving and starving for dread
+of the years ahead: it&rsquo;s so unfair, so grossly, hideously, cruelly
+unfair.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It perhaps won&rsquo;t be when you see all round it, chum. It is so
+obvious we only see one side of things here. When we see the other side it will
+all look so different.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps, but in the meantime they are here, now, in our very midst, all
+<i>these unwanted</i> women. If you saw as much of them as I do, I think you
+would feel even the letter had better not have been supplied. A blank would
+have meant so much less suffering. A penniless woman without attractiveness,
+and with neither husband, child, nor father wanting her, is such an anomaly.
+She just drags on, hating her loneliness, dreading and fearing the future or
+illness, merely existing because she is called upon to do so for no apparent
+reason.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But she can always make friends, chum. If she is kind and cheerful and
+hopeful she will soon win love of some sort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes… yes… but, Basil, to be all that, when one is weighed down with the
+inequality of chance and a horror of the future calls for a heroine; and Life
+didn&rsquo;t bother to make many of them heroines. She doesn&rsquo;t seem to
+have paid much attention to them at all. Orphans and widows and sick people she
+remembers; but the lonely, ageing, hardened, unwanted spinster! It sometimes
+seems to me it is just sentimentality to be persuaded everything is all right.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe it is all right. There&rsquo;s too much useless,
+silent aching, and useless, passionate resentment over circumstances that it
+seems should either never have been, or should be remedied if any Guiding Hand
+has power. I have determination and I&rsquo;m strong, Basil; the future
+doesn&rsquo;t frighten me badly yet, but when you are gone, I feel as if the
+loneliness might half kill me, and as if then I ought to have the right to
+become a blank if I wish, since I was never consulted about becoming a letter
+in the great alphabet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not seek to stay her, knowing with his deep insight that to get such
+thoughts spoken was better than to brood inwardly; and because of his
+unshakable faith in her courage, he was not alarmed by them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet he could not offer any comfort. Had not the enigma of useless pain racked
+and torn his soul piteously through the long years of his illness, leaving him
+indeed with a wonderful courage, but not with a theory that would fit the needs
+of suffering mankind? He could bear his own ills, because he had trained and
+taught himself to take them as a soldier takes the miseries of a hard campaign;
+but the general sum of suffering was another matter; and he shrank from saying
+either that suffering was sent by God to do good, or that it was necessary to
+the human race.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All he knew was simply that ills bravely borne seemed aided by some mysterious
+power outside their bearers; whereas the craven and the grumbler seemed but to
+add to their own burden. For the rest, though he would not say it for the pain
+it gave her, the knowledge of his growing weakness was already a solace to him,
+and he watched with hidden eagerness for the day that should set him free. At
+least a corpse was no drain upon the slender purse of a beloved sister; and the
+gnawing ache of his helplessness and uselessness would be stilled for ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If only Dudley had cared for her? From his vantage-ground of the looker-on,
+with his unnaturally sharpened sensitiveness, he knew perfectly how matters
+stood and how hopeless the desire seemed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dear old Dudley, his life-long friend, would probably marry Doris and learn his
+mistake too late; and Ethel, with her fine nature, would go to some one else.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, one could not change either one&rsquo;s own little circle of fate, or the
+universe, just to suit oneself; one could only hope for the best, while there
+was still room for hope, and cultivate that soldier-spirit, undaunted even in a
+losing fight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime there was the lonely, unwanted spinster opposite, with her
+immediate claim of nearness and loneness; and, as if to direct her thoughts
+into another channel, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know, chum, I believe G was quite serious about wanting to come in
+here sometimes. Why not find out which afternoons she comes home early, and let
+her come and get tea and have it with me here. Then Doris need not worry about
+getting back in time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if you are feeling weak it will tire you so, Basil, to have a
+stranger. You will feel obliged to talk to her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t think I shall; and it would be nice to feel she was
+rather glad not to be a blank after all. Let her come one afternoon and try.
+Perhaps one way of grappling with the problem of human suffering&mdash;the best
+way&mdash;is to try and alleviate the atom of pain that is nearest each one of
+us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She assented to please him, and then kissed his forehead with a lingering,
+adoring tenderness, marvelling that such a sufferer could so think for others.
+Then she went quietly to bed, feeling, as the gaunt spinster had tried to put
+it, &ldquo;If <i>you</i> can bear your ills so, surely I might manage to bear
+mine more courageously.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<p>
+The next evening Ethel crossed the little landing to the lonely flat, and gave
+the invitation from F to G.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A good deal to her amusement, she found the gaunt spinster knitting
+babies&rsquo; socks, with a basket containing several completed pairs beside
+her. She picked a pair up, and said with a kind little smile:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly expected to find you doing this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course not,&rdquo; in a short way, that sounded uncivil without being
+so. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s an occupation about as much suited to me as teaching
+music.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder why you do it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do it for bread, naturally. They bring in a few shillings. It is just
+a fluke that I can make them at all. I know as much about a needle ordinarily
+as a flying-machine; but I learnt to knit once under protest. I sprained my
+ankle and was laid up for some weeks, and I told the doctor I should go stark,
+staring mad if he kept me shut up in a house doing nothing. He said knitting
+was a very good preventive to madness, and he&rsquo;d send his wife along. She
+was a great missionary worker, and she pounced on me like a hawk, and started
+me off knitting socks for little gutta-percha babies somewhere in the
+Antipodes, almost before I knew where I was. Such insanity!… as if white babies
+wanted to be bothered with socks, much less black ones! I told the doctor it
+was adding insult to injury to allow it to appear I hadn&rsquo;t more common
+sense than to occupy my time with garments for the heathen. As if there
+weren&rsquo;t too many garments in the world already, half the community
+over-dressed, and ready to sell its soul for more. &lsquo;Leave them clean and
+healthy and naked, that&rsquo;s my advice, doctor,&rsquo; I told him;
+&lsquo;and if you weren&rsquo;t afraid of your wife you&rsquo;d
+agree.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel leaned against the table, enjoying the rugged face and comically twisted
+mouth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I thought you were a clergyman&rsquo;s daughter?&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So I am; but I don&rsquo;t see why I shouldn&rsquo;t be credited with a
+little common sense even then. I know they haven&rsquo;t much as a rule; what
+with their sewing-classes, and praying-classes, and mothers&rsquo; meetings
+smothering up their minds till they can&rsquo;t see beyond their noses. I never
+had much to do with that part of it. They didn&rsquo;t like me well enough in
+the village to want to pray with me nor sew with me; which was just as well,
+for if I&rsquo;d prayed, I should have implored the Almighthy to open their
+minds a little, and widen their views, and give them each a good thick slab of
+devilry to counteract their general soppiness and short-sighted stupidity.
+Ugh!… to hear some of those soppy folks praying to be delivered from the Evil
+One, and to have strength given them to cast the devil from their hearts! Just
+as if the devil had time to bother with that sanctimonious, chicken-hearted
+crew. He wasn&rsquo;t very likely to do them the compliment of acknowledging
+their existence.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did no one do any parish work then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes, the doctor&rsquo;s wife did most of it. And when a new doctor
+came they daren&rsquo;t for the life of them have a word to say to him, for
+fear of the next prayer-meeting, when she would preside. You see, she&rsquo;d
+pray for the lost sheep in the fold for about half an hour, and how he went to
+the wolf for healing, which was the new doctor&mdash;instead of the saviour,
+which was her husband, the old one, and drew lurid pictures of the fiery
+poisons and deadly draughts the wolf gave the poor sheep to kill him instead of
+cure him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what became of the new doctor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, of course he had to go&mdash;which was a pity, as he was the first
+person with a sense of humour who ever entered that village as a resident. One
+could positively talk sense to him, without being regarded as a lunatic. As a
+rule, you had to feign imbecility there if you didn&rsquo;t want to be
+considered mad. I had just made up my mind to learn to knit men&rsquo;s ties,
+instead of babies&rsquo; socks, when he departed&rdquo;&mdash;and she looked at
+Ethel with a grimness, and at the same time a lurking humour, that made it
+quite impossible for Ethel to keep her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did you change your mind then?&rdquo; seeing the gaunt spinster was
+not in the least annoyed at her for laughing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I stuck to the babies&rsquo; socks. I thought on the whole it was
+less incongruous for a woman with a face like mine to work for a baby than a
+man. And that&rsquo;s the nearest I ever got to a love affair. Just to wonder
+if I&rsquo;d knit a man a tie, and change my mind, and knit socks for a little
+black heathen whelp instead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;O dear!&rdquo; said Ethel, with a little smothered gasp, &ldquo;you
+don&rsquo;t mind if I laugh, do you? You really are very amusing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Amusing!…&rdquo; with a little humorous snort. &ldquo;Well, I
+don&rsquo;t mind amusing you; but I do think it&rsquo;s about the most
+monstrous thing in the way of a practical joke I know, for Nature to create a
+creature like me, with a natural inclination to want a mate. Just as if any man
+could bear to get up every morning of his life and see me there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; Ethel exclaimed. &ldquo;Basil thinks you are very
+attractive.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does he?&rdquo; drily. Then, with a sudden, swift humour, &ldquo;Perhaps
+it&rsquo;s a pity I didn&rsquo;t learn to knit ties after all!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell him about why you didn&rsquo;t instead&mdash;and about the village
+and the doctor&rsquo;s wife. He&rsquo;ll be so interested. You will be a
+positive godsend to him. May I tell him to expect you to tea tomorrow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Tell him, to add to the humour of the situation, I&rsquo;ll bring
+across a baby&rsquo;s sock to knit. We&rsquo;re both so likely to have a mutual
+interest in babies.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel kept Basil entertained most of the evening with the account of her
+interview, rather to the annoyance of Doris, who, for some vague reason, was
+not at all pleased about the new acquaintance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps it was because, on one or two occasions when she had remained out later
+than she should, she had met the music-teacher and encountered a fierce and
+disapproving glare. Doris was quite willing to be relieved of her charge
+occasionally, but she did not at all appreciate the idea of a strong-minded
+individual, who would certainly not hesitate not only to condemn her
+selfishness, but to look her scorn of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the evening of Dudley&rsquo;s visit, when she first found the gaunt spinster
+at the flat, she had gone to bed feeling out of sorts with herself and all the
+world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She hated having been caught in her selfish forgetfulness; she hated the idea
+of the opposite tenant coming in to help Ethel; she hated being Doris Hayward
+and living in a stuffy Holloway flat. It caused her to turn her thoughts more
+seriously to a way of escape, and, as a natural sequence, to how much
+Dudley&rsquo;s attentions might mean.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And further, if they were meant in earnest, how she would feel about marrying
+him. She made no pretence to herself of loving him; personally, she thought
+love mostly sentimental nonsense; but she liked being with him, and she liked
+going about with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the other hand, he was not rich, and she hated poverty. If she waited a
+little longer, a richer man might turn up?… or, again, he might not, and Dudley
+might change his mind. Certainly it was very awkward to know which was the
+wisest course, but in the meantime it would be just as well to keep Dudley
+attracted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To this end she gave her hair an extra curl on Saturday evening, and arose
+betimes on Sunday morning for further preparations. Ethel took a bow off her
+hat, ironed, and remade it, and finally put the finishing touches to her
+appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You look very nice,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I hope you&rsquo;ll have a
+splendid day. Run and show yourself to Basil.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil told her she would certainly be the belle of the luncheon party, and
+finally she departed feeling very pleased with herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley was waiting for her at Paddington, and his eyes showed plainly that he
+echoed Basil&rsquo;s opinion, though he did not actually express it in words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you leave Basil?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I wish I felt happier
+about him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He is much brighter altogether. I really think Ethel might have come, as
+the tenant of the opposite flat would have been only too pleased to go and sit
+with him. She never seems to have any pleasure, does she? But it is really her
+own fault. I would have stayed at home today if she would have let me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;m rather glad she wouldn&rsquo;t; though I am sorry she
+could not have had the treat as well. We are going to have a lovely day, in
+spite of its being so late in the year.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As it was only a small birthday luncheon, and the others of the party had
+either gone overnight or lived near, they were easily able to get a compartment
+to themselves, and Dudley was conscious of a pleasurable quickening of his
+pulses at the prospect of the long tête-à-tête.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And indeed it was not surprising, for Doris looked adorably pretty and winsome,
+and many a wiser man might have shared his pleased anticipation. Moreover,
+Doris was not in the least stupid or vapid, however selfish and shallow her
+nature; and if she chose she could be a very pleasant companion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And today she did so choose, hovering still in indecision over the subject
+that had filled her thoughts often of late.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally, it chanced that during much of the day they were thrown together, and
+all the time she thought how nice it was to be of so much consequence to any
+one; while he enjoyed again the sense of her clinging, engaging dependence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And when they were once more alone in a compartment, steaming back to town, it
+was not in the least surprising that, almost before he knew it, Dudley was
+pouring into her ears a tale of love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+True, it was a very calm and collected tale, but it was none the less genuine
+for that; and from the bottom of his heart he believed that she, above all
+women, was the one he desired as his wife. Transports of any description were
+foreign to his nature. He imagined they always would be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Joyous excitement and enthusiasm he left to Hal, except such enthusiasm as he
+kept for old ruins and ancient architecture. Still, it warmed all his blood and
+quickened all his pulses to have his way at last, and hold Doris in his arms,
+and try to kiss away the unshed tears and the little droop from her lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took her home from the station, but did not go in because of the lateness of
+the hour, and the probability that Basil was just getting off to sleep; only
+kissing her again with a certain old-fashioned, deferential air and promising
+to come in the course of a day or two to see Ethel and Basil.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris let herself in with somewhat mixed feelings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had had a delightful day and thoroughly enjoyed it, but, now that the die
+was cast, and the difficult point settled, she found herself beginning to be
+more critical of Dudley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She wished he were not quite so old-fashioned, nor so good. She was a little
+afraid she would find his sterling qualities distinctly boring, and his high
+standard a difficult and tiresome one to bother with.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then, of course, there was Hal. Hal never had liked her and probably never
+would. Not that it mattered very much. In fact, it was rather pleasant than
+otherwise to think of Hal&rsquo;s discomfiture and dismay, Doris wondered if
+she would expect to live with them, and made up her mind then and there, very
+decisively, that she would never agree to anything of the kind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had suffered quite enough from Ethel&rsquo;s superiority, without
+encountering a second edition in Hal. As she thought of it, and of how she
+would checkmate Hal&rsquo;s possible plans to make her home with them, she
+smiled to herself a little cruelly in the darkness.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was Hal also who filled Dudley&rsquo;s thoughts as he made his way homeward.
+In her attitude to his engagement he was afraid she was going to personate what
+is known as a &ldquo;tough nut to crack.&rdquo; He wondered if she would be
+waiting up for him, and what in the world she would say when he told her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As it happened, she was waiting, sitting over the remains of a little fire she
+had lighted for company. The reason she felt the need of company, and the
+reason she was waiting, was the fact of a perturbed frame of mind she was
+endeavouring to soothe, until he came in to give the final touch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was perturbed because of the change in Sir Edwin Crathie, and the closing
+scene of a somewhat eventful day. Until tea-time he had been as gay and
+lighthearted and inconsequent as ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Their lunch in the New Forest had been an immense success, and both had enjoyed
+it thoroughly. On their way home they further enjoyed a big tea at an hotel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Moreover, the drive had been delightful. The glory of the autumn tints; the
+delicious stillness of the autumn weather, and the sunny coolness of the
+atmosphere had all contributed to make the day perfect. After her long hours of
+office work and monotony, Hal was only the better tuned to enjoy it, and as she
+leant back in blissful ease in the luxurious motor, she thought what a goose
+she would have been to let prudish thoughts influence her to forgo it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, once more, after tea, he had deliberately moved his chair nearer to hers,
+and struck a personal note that she found it difficult to combat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know,&rdquo; he told her blandly, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re the dearest
+little woman I&rsquo;ve met for a long time? I don&rsquo;t know when I&rsquo;ve
+enjoyed a whole day with any one so much as this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s just the novelty,&rdquo; she said, adopting a note of
+unconcern to head him off; &ldquo;most of your friends flatter and try to
+please you. It amuses me more to contradict you; that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all, is it! Well, I dare say if I found a special joy
+in being contradicted, I could easily humour the fancy without going for a
+whole day into the country.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ver likely&mdash;only, since you wanted your day in the country, you
+kill two birds with one stone, don&rsquo;t you see?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And supposing I badly wanted something else from you besides
+contradiction!… a little affection, for instance!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;m giving you a lot of that thrown in,&rdquo; gaily, but she
+pushed her chair a little farther away; &ldquo;if I didn&rsquo;t rather like
+you I shouldn&rsquo;t bother to contradict you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather like me!… that&rsquo;s very cold&mdash;I, a great deal more than
+<i>rather</i> like you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That, of course, is different,&rdquo; with a jaunty air, that made them
+both laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, I don&rsquo;t think we can stop at &lsquo;rather liking&rsquo;,
+now&mdash;do you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see why we shouldn&rsquo;t; we are getting on very
+nicely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got up suddenly, and walked away to the window. In his heart of hearts he
+was a little nonplussed. Of course they couldn&rsquo;t stop where they were, he
+argued; but how, with a girl of Hal&rsquo;s practical level-headedness get any
+farther?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he remembered he was a firm believer in swift and sudden measures, and
+usually found they fitted all contingencies. So he swung round, crossed the
+room, put his hand on her shoulders, and boldly kissed her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said&mdash;&ldquo;that is how I &lsquo;rather
+like&rsquo; you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was quite taken aback&mdash;almost too taken aback to speak; but a red spot
+burned in each cheek, and a sudden flash seemed to gleam angrily in her eyes.
+Her quick brain, however, took in the position instantly. If she grew indignant
+and melodramatic, he would merely laugh at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course he knew she must be perfectly aware that men often kissed a girl who
+stood to them in her position, without thinking much of it. To make a fuss
+would be rather absurd. On the other hand, of course, he had to be
+disillusioned concerning what he apparently supposed would be her feelings on
+the subject.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I call that bad taste,&rdquo; she said coolly. &ldquo;You might have
+given me a sporting chance to let you know beforehand I should object.&rdquo;
+He looked about to repeat the action, but she edged away from him. &ldquo;Of
+course I know lots of girls don&rsquo;t mind, but that&rsquo;s nothing to do
+with you and me. I do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you mind?&rdquo; He felt rather small before the directness of
+her eyes, and tried to bluster himself on to his former level.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very silly of you, especially nowadays. There&rsquo;s no harm
+in a kiss, is there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;None that I know of, but I think we were getting on very nicely without
+it. We won&rsquo;t risk spoiling things. Come along, I&rsquo;m longing to be
+off&rdquo;; and she moved towards the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you angry with me?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; very; but if you&rsquo;ll promise not to do it again I&rsquo;ll try
+to forget. If you transgress further, we shall just have to leave off being
+friends&mdash;that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took his seat in the motor beside her in silence, and Peter whizzed them
+away at a good speed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal, enjoying the motion, kept her face averted, and drank in the lovely, fresh
+country air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently a hand stole firmly over hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not to be angry with me any more, little woman. I&rsquo;m
+afraid I was rather a cad, but you&rsquo;ve got such a fascinating mouth.
+I&rsquo;m sorry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked frankly into his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, don&rsquo;t do it again, then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He tried to look no less frankly back, but it was as if some forbidden thought
+flashed across his mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try not,&rdquo; he said, a trifle lamely, and looked away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He still kept possession of her hand, however, until she resolutely drew it
+from him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will Brother Dudley be in?&rdquo; he asked, when they drew up in
+Bloomsbury.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; he won&rsquo;t get back much before nine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took her latch-key from her, and opened the door, entering himself, instead
+of taking her proffered hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which way?&rdquo; he asked, and she opened the door into their
+sitting-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show you Brother Dudley&rsquo;s photograph now you&rsquo;re
+here,&rdquo; she said in a frank voice&mdash;&ldquo;and the very latest of
+Lorraine Vivian. I wish I had one of Apollo; but I&rsquo;ve never asked for
+one, because I always make a point of pretending not to admire him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only pretence, then?&rdquo; he asked, glancing at the others
+as if his thoughts were elsewhere.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It can only be. One is bound to admire him at heart. Nature seldom made
+a fairer gentleman, and it would be mere perversity to deny it, except, as I
+do, for his good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then suddenly she saw he was scarcely listening to her, and looking at the
+photographs without seeing them, and instinctively she moved away, feeling a
+little at loss. The next moment he had caught her shoulders, and kissed her
+again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said I&rsquo;d try, and so I have, but it&rsquo;s no use. Little
+woman, don&rsquo;t be prudish; kiss me back again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she pushed him away, and in the firelight he saw she was very white and
+determined.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked you not to. It is much worse taste still now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, it isn&rsquo;t&mdash;don&rsquo;t be silly. Why shouldn&rsquo;t I
+kiss you? I... I... have got awfully fond of you, and I know you like me
+somewhere down in your heart.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall cease to do so from this moment.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dare you to. Hal, if you like me, why not take the sweets that offer?
+I&rsquo;ll be bound you&rsquo;ve never been kissed in your life as I will kiss
+you. Don&rsquo;t be prudish. Let me teach you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She seemed to hesitate a second, in indecision as to what was her best course
+to withstand him, and, seizing the opportunity, he suddenly caught her in his
+arms and kissed her on the lips with swift, eager kisses. Then, not giving her
+time to speak her resentment, he snatched up his hat and moved to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be angry,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I did try, honour bright,
+but it&rsquo;s no use; good-bye. I must see you again soon&rdquo;; and he went
+out, closing the door behind him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For some minutes Hal stood quite still, feeling a little dazed. She saw him
+cross the pavement, give some directions to Peter, and then drive away without
+a backward glance. She stood still a little longer, then slowly took off her
+hat, threw it on the sofa, ran her fingers through her hair and sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a little, the emptiness of the room seemed to oppress her, for though it
+was not cold, she jumped up and put a match to the fire. Then the landlady came
+in with her supper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Ad a nice day, miss?&rdquo; she asked pleasantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very nice. How&rsquo;s Johnnie? Did you get to see him?&rdquo; alluding
+to a small son boarded out at Highgate for his health.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I went up to tea with &rsquo;im. &rsquo;E looks years better
+already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m very glad.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal sat down to her supper with a preoccupied air, and instead of having a
+little chat, she relapsed into silence, and the landlady departed. She felt
+vaguely that something had upset entirely the even tenor of her mind, and she
+wanted to think. Any other Sunday evening she would have told the landlady
+something about her motor-ride, for she and Dudley had now been in the same
+rooms for seven years, and it is quite a fallacy to condemn all London
+landladies as grasping, bad-tempered tyrants.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was quite fond of Mrs. Carr, and had found her unwearingly thoughtful and
+attentive. But tonight she wanted to think, and was glad to be alone again,
+almost immediately returning to her arm chair over the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was conscious, in a vague, uncertain way, that though Sir Edwin had kissed
+her because he cared for her, he could not have acted so had he cared in an
+upright, honest-hearted manner. She attracted him, and he wanted all the
+pleasure he could get out of the attraction, but there, no doubt, it ended.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the rest, he was Sir Edwin Crathie, Cabinet Minister, and member of a
+proud, patrician family. She was Hal Pritchard, secretary, typist, and
+occasional journalist at the office of a leading London paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She grew restless, and commenced roaming round the room. Her knowledge of life,
+as it is lived near its teeming, throbbing, working centre, warned her that the
+new turn of their friendship held danger. If she was wise, she would shun the
+danger, and go back to her old life before he had come into it. She would
+firmly and resolutely refuse to see him again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To do so without regret was impossible. Now that the friendship seemed about to
+cease, she realised it had meant more than she knew. She held her face in her
+hands, and her cheeks tingled at the memory of the last eager kiss.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was woman enough to know it was good to be kissed like that by a man who,
+even if his morals and principles left much to be desired, was still very much
+a man, and had won a distinction that made most women proud of far less
+attention than he had shown her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a different sense she was struggling in a net of circumstances something
+like Lorraine&rsquo;s. Lorraine wanted to do the right thing, or, at any rate,
+the sporting thing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So did Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a world full of temptations, and backsliding, and much suffering thereby,
+the sporting thing for the strong woman is to stand to her guns. If Hal dallied
+with Sir Edwin now, she felt she would be deserting her post. At the
+judgment-bar of her own heart, which, after all, matters far more than the
+judgment-bar of public opinion, she would be allowing herself to compromise for
+the sake of the fleeting, dangerous pleasure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stopped short by the window, and stared out into the gloomy, lamplit
+street. And it crossed her mind to remember the bitter price so many women had
+paid for that dalliance and compromise, so many now probably gazing out with
+dull eyes into gloomy streets, hopeless, reckless, and joyless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yes; dalliance and compromise were mistakes. The real pluck was the sporting
+spirit that stood to its guns, even if it cost a big and wearisome effort. She
+would not dally. She would answer to her own Best, and try to go on her
+steadfast way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After all, she had Dudley and Lorraine. It was good to have a brother all to
+oneself, who was incontestably a dear, in spite of a little priggishness and
+narrowness. He would be home soon, and then they would have a last chat over
+the fire together; and that would help to renew her in her determination to cut
+the dangerous friendship adrift.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She leaned back in the chair a little wearily, and waited for the welcome sound
+of his key in the latch. She wished he would come quickly, because she did not
+quite like the way her mind kept reverting to those eager kisses. The memory
+had the danger of making most other thoughts seem thin and dull; and she
+wondered how she was going to replace a friendship that had been so full of
+interest and enjoyment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If she had dared, she would like to have persuaded herself that he cared for
+her in the real way; and her cheeks glowed, and her heart thumped a little at
+the thought of all the real way meant. But her practical side told her only too
+decidedly that this was not the case.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps he was not the sort of man who could care in the real way at all. He
+was too selfish, and grasping, and ambitious by nature. That he was interesting
+and a delightful companion as well did not help matters. Men were very often
+all these things together, but the selfish, ambitious, unscrupulous side
+usually outweighed all the rest in big questions that affected their whole
+lives.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she remembered that many of the girls she knew&mdash;quite nice, jolly
+girls&mdash;would have taken the fun that offered, and not bothered about
+anything beyond the present. Still, that did not affect her own particular
+case.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One had to try and live up to one&rsquo;s own ideals, not other people&rsquo;s,
+and in her inmost heart she knew that she thought but poorly of the girls who
+run foolish risks for the sake of a little extra pleasure and gratification,
+just as she thought poorly of the man who amused himself, trifling with a
+girl&rsquo;s affections, to pass a little time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came the welcome sound of Dudley&rsquo;s key, and she sat up and turned an
+eager face to the door to greet him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He came in quietly, and returned the greeting with his usual calm,
+undemonstrative appreciation; only, he did not look at her, nor ask her any
+questions about her day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The supper was still waiting for him, and he took a few mouthfuls, in a
+preoccupied manner, with his face turned away. Hal asked him about the
+day&rsquo;s outing, wondering not a little at his manner. He seemed anxious,
+and somewhat ill at ease, and she observed that he did not eat anything to
+speak of.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At last he got up and came to her side near the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t you going to sit down?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I thought a
+little fire looked so cosy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not seem to hear her, for instead of replying he coughed nervously,
+cleared his throat, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve something to tell you, Hal&mdash;a piece of news.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She waited, watching him with a puzzled, curious air. Then, without any further
+preamble, he finished abruptly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m&mdash;I&rsquo;m&mdash;engaged to be married.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal gave a gasp, and became suddenly taut with amazement and incredulity.
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re&mdash;engaged&mdash;to&mdash;be&mdash;married!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; you&rsquo;re not very surprised, are you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sudden, awful fear seemed to envelop and clutch at her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who to?&rdquo; she asked, a little hoarsely?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To Doris Hayward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For some reason he seemed unable to look at her. Vaguely he knew he had dealt
+her a blow, and that it was of a nature he could not soften.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal stared hard at the fire, then suddenly started to her feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t mean it,&rdquo; she exclaimed, forgetting to be
+circumspect. &ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t possibly think seriously of marrying
+Doris Hayward?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly he stiffened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why you speak of it in that way. Certainly I am
+serious. It is hardly a question I should joke about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a tense silence, then Hal turned to the sofa and picked up her hat as
+if she were a little dazed. She seemed suddenly to have nothing to say, and she
+knew herself to be no good at prevarication. To congratulate him seemed an
+impossibility just yet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I know you have never cared for Doris,&rdquo; he said;
+&ldquo;but probably you did not know her well enough. I hope you will soon see
+you have misjudged her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; she said lamely.
+&ldquo;Good-night&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;hadn&rsquo;t thought about your getting
+married. I must get used to the idea. I&mdash;&rdquo; she paused in sudden,
+swift distress. &ldquo;Good-night; of course I hope you&rsquo;ll be happy, and
+all that,&rdquo; and she went hurriedly out, and up to her own room.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hal reached her room she sat down on the bed in the dark, and stared at
+the dim square of the window. She was feeling stunned, and as if her brain
+would not work properly. It grasped the significance of old, familiar objects
+as usual, but seemed quite unable to grip and understand the something strange
+and new which had suddenly come into being. She remembered she had waited for
+Dudley to come with soothing for a perturbed frame of mind, and instead, he had
+brought her&mdash;<i>this</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What could it mean? Surely, surely, not that Doris Hayward was to rob her of
+her brother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A wave of swift and sudden loneliness seemed to envelop her. The blackness of
+the night closed in upon her, and desolation swept across her soul.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If only it had been Ethel,&rdquo; was the vague, uncertain thought:
+&ldquo;any one in the world almost but Doris.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And again,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why had Dudley been so incredibly blind to Doris&rsquo;s real nature?
+Why had he of all men been caught by a pretty face? Was it possible he thought
+his life would need no other help and comfort but that of a charming exterior
+in his wife?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How childlike he seemed again to his young sister&rsquo;s practical, worldly
+knowledge. Of course he knew almost nothing of women, buried in his musty old
+architectural lore, and giving most of his brain to the contemplation of
+ancient ruins and edifices.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had looked up from his books, and Doris had smiled at him, that diabolically
+winsome, innocent smile of hers; and something in his heart, not quite
+smothered and likewise not healthily developed, had warmed into sudden,
+surprised pleasure, and straightway he thought himself in love. Hal was sure of
+one thing, that if Doris had not decided it would suit her plans to be
+Dudley&rsquo;s wife, the idea would not have occured to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After all, what did he want with a wife for years to come, going along so
+contentedly and placidly with his books and his thirst for knowledge, and the
+peacefulness of their sojourn with Mrs. Carr? No servant troubles, no
+housekeeping worries, no taxes, no gas and electric-light bills; everything
+done for them, and for company each other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Oh, of course, it was all Doris&rsquo;s doing. She wanted to get away from the
+dingy flat and the poverty, and she had hit upon Dudley as a way out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal got up suddenly with a bursting feeling. Of course she did not even love
+him, would not even try to change her nature to become more in touch with his,
+would not trouble in the least what obstacles stood between any real and deep
+understanding. Perhaps she was not even capable of love, but in any case her
+affections could not have been given to any one as quiet, and studious, and
+old-fashioned as Dudley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went to the window and threw it open that she might lean out and breathe
+the open air. Her head burned and ached, and her eyes smarted with a
+smouldering fire in her brain. She felt more and more how entirely it must have
+been Doris&rsquo;s doing. Doris had smiled at him, and confided in him, and
+managed first to convey a pathetic picture of her own loneliness, and then to
+suggest how happy her life might be with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And of course Dudley was all chivalry at heart, and trusting, and
+tender-hearted; that was one reason why he had always deplored her,
+Hal&rsquo;s, boyish independence and determination to fend for herself. He did
+not understand the vigorous, enterprising, working woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Immersed in his books and his studies, he had allowed himself to be influenced
+largely by caricatures, and by the noisy stir of the platform woman. But he
+understood the Doris type, or thought he did, and placed their engaging
+dependence before such spirited resolution as her own and Ethel&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And how to help him? How, now, to thwart the carrying out of Doris&rsquo;
+cleverly carried scheme.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her first thought was Ethel and Basil. She would go to them, and appeal to them
+to help her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then she remembered that &ldquo;blood is thicker than water.&rdquo; How
+could they thwart their own sister; and in any case what would Dudley ever see
+in it but a persecution that would intensify his affection? One hint that Doris
+was victimised, and she knew Dudley well enough to realise he would only marry
+her the more quickly, whether he had learned the truth or not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Opposition of any sort would probably do far more harm than good at present.
+There was nothing for it but to meet the blow with the best face possible, and
+hope time might yet bring release.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then her thoughts went back to Sir Edwin, and quite suddenly and unaccountably
+she longed to tell him about it. He would be interested for her sake, and he
+would cheer her up, and make her hopeful in spite of herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No; to see him again, feeling as she felt now, would only mean to see him in a
+mood of weakness, that might make her less able to withstand him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She must rely only on Lorraine and Dick, and try to stand by her previous
+determination. She would see Lorraine directly she left the office the next
+day, and in the meantime she would try and hide from Dudley the extent of her
+dismay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But in spite of her resolve, when she rested her head on the pillow, the hot
+tears squeezed through her closed eyelids, and in dumb misery she told herself
+Dudley was lost to her for ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She awoke the next morning with a dull, aching sense of misery that had robbed
+the sunshine of its warmth, and the day of its brightness; but as she dressed
+she strengthened herself in a resolve to try and hide her chagrin, and make
+some amends to Dudley for her reception of the news.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you felt pretty disgusted with me last night,&rdquo; she said
+at the breakfast-table. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, but you took me so violently by
+surprise.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had taken his seat, looking grave and displeased, but his face relaxed as he
+replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I was rather sudden. It seemed the
+easiest&rdquo;&mdash;he hesitated, then added&mdash;&ldquo;I hope you&rsquo;ll
+try to get on with Doris.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo; Hal turned away on some slight pretext.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d hate giving you up to any one&mdash;you know I
+would&mdash;we&rsquo;ve&mdash;we&rsquo;ve&mdash;been very happy together here,
+and&mdash;&rdquo; but her voice broke suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley looked unhappy, but he steadied his voice and said cheerfully:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it needn&rsquo;t be very different. If you and Doris will get fond
+of each other, it will be the same, only better. Of course you will live with
+us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no&rdquo;; and she tried to smile lightly&mdash;&ldquo;I
+couldn&rsquo;t&mdash;possibly live without Mrs. Carr now. I should never be
+properly dressed, for one thing, and I should always be forgetting important
+engagements.&rdquo; She changed the subject quickly, seeing he was about to
+remonstrate. &ldquo;Have you seen Ethel and Basil
+since&mdash;since&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I&rsquo;m going to see Basil this afternoon, after taking Doris to
+Wimbledon to see Langfier fly, and I shall stay to dinner. Will you come up
+this evening?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I&rsquo;m going out. Perhaps tomorrow&mdash;&rdquo; she hesitated,
+as if swallowing a lump in her throat. &ldquo;You might give my love to Doris,
+and say I&rsquo;ll come soon.&rdquo; She saw Dudley glance at her inquiringly,
+and recklessly dashed into another subject, talking at random until she left.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the afternoon she hurried straight off to Lorraine&rsquo;s flat, arriving a
+few minutes after Lorraine had come in from a walk in the Park. She was
+standing by the window, drawing off some long gloves, and even Hal was struck
+by a sort of newness about her&mdash;a bloom and a quiet radiance that was like
+a renewal of youth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was beautifully dressed as ever, but with a far simpler note than
+usual&mdash;something which suggested she wished to look charming, without
+attracting attention; something which suppressed the actress in favour of the
+woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was as if, surrounded with success and attention night after night, and for
+several years, she had wearied of the rôle, and put it aside voluntarily
+whenever opportunity offered. She had been wont to be very fashionable and
+striking in her dress and general appearance, but now Hal noticed vaguely a
+simpler note all through.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her face and expression seemed to have changed also. A certain hardness and
+callousness had gone. Her smile was more genuine, and her eyes kinder. In some
+mysterious way, it was as though Lorraine had won from the past some gleaming
+of the woman she might have been under happier circumstances, and without
+certain harsh experiences.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And it was all owing to her feeling for Alymer Hermon and his youthful pride in
+her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They met continually now. Her flat was open to him whenever he liked. He came
+to her when he had anything interesting to relate&mdash;when he was depressed
+and when he was hopeful. With the inconsequent acceptance of youth, he took
+from her what an older man would have regarded a little shyly, and perhaps
+feared to take.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was his pal, his excellent friend, who gave him such sympathy and interest
+and encouragement as she could find nowhere else. Because he was young, he
+drank deep and asked no questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not imagine for a moment that she was in love with him. True, other
+women were; but then they told him so, and alarmed him with their attentions.
+Lorraine was more inclined to laugh at him and make fun of him, in a jolly,
+pally sort of way, which made him feel perfectly at home with her, and
+successfully banish any questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was more like a man friend, only better, because a man would have wanted an
+equal share of interest, whereas Lorraine seemed content to be interested in
+him. She never encouraged him to talk about her triumphs and her other friends.
+She rather implied they were so public and apparent already she did not want to
+hear any more of them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she was always ready to talk of his hopes and aspirations, and help him to
+build foundations to his aircastles. And already, under her tuition and help,
+he had made immense strides. His work and his objects had become real to him,
+ambition had taken root and begun to push out little upward shoots. He saw
+himself one of the leading lights at the Bar, and instead of lazily scoffing,
+he liked the picture. He wanted to get there, and if Lorraine was ready to help
+him, why should she not? Why bother to ask questions?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course she must be fond of him, or she would not do it; but then he was fond
+of her too&mdash;very fond&mdash;and why not? The mere suggestion of danger did
+not occur to him. She was so many years his senior, and so celebrated, it never
+crossed his mind to suppose she could have any feeling for him beyond the jolly
+palliness that seemed to have sprung up naturally between them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he came and went between the Temple and her flat and his own quarters, and
+life began to assume a bigness of possibility that drowned all else, and kept
+him eager and hard working and safe from the hurtful influences and actions
+that attend idle hours.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Lorraine, for the present, walked in her fool&rsquo;s paradise and was
+content. She watched him slowly and surely fill out both physically and
+mentally into the promise of his splendid manhood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She saw his youthful beauty solidifying into the beauty of a man, and carefully
+watered and tended those budding shoots of ambition that were to help him
+attain his best promise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the time being the thwarted mother-love that is in every woman satisfied
+her with the evidence of his progress, and she lulled any other into
+quiescence, hugging to herself the knowledge that it was she alone to whom he
+would owe greatness, if he won it, and that even his own doting mother had not
+done, and never could do, the half that she was doing to start him on a
+steadfast way that should lead to fame and usefulness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made it her excuse for ignoring the questions which her wider knowledge
+could not entirely banish. To what other results the friendship might lead she
+turned a deaf ear. The other results must take care of themselves, was her
+thought; it was enough for her that she could help to make him great.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled a little at the thought of the women she had won him from. He talked
+to her now freely and openly, though always with that unassuming modesty which
+was so attractive. She knew what he had already had to combat. What a life of
+self-pleasing and gay-living lay open to him if he chose to take it. She knew
+that, if he chose it, though he might still win a certain amount of fame, it
+would never be the well-grounded, staunch, reliable success that she could spur
+him to.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so she drew a curtain over the dangers her course might hold, and, in a
+light and airy way, threw over him the glow and the warm attractiveness of her
+many fascinations and allurements, that she might keep him free from any
+foolish engagement or low entanglement, to concentrate all his mind and his
+heart upon his work and her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How long such an aim was likely to satisfy her, or how natural or unnatural her
+course, she left with all the other questions, to be faced, if necessary, later
+on, or to pass with the swift joy into oblivion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At least it was not the first time a woman, scarcely young, and having her full
+measure of success, had turned unaccountably to a man very much her junior, for
+something she apparently sought in vain from men of her own age. It might be
+strange, but it was not unique; and for the rest, were not the ways of the
+little god Love like the ways of many events&mdash;&ldquo;stranger than
+fiction&rdquo;?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His magnificent physique, his extraordinarily beautiful head, and his no less
+extraordinary, unassuming modesty, attracted and held her with links that grew
+stronger and stronger, and her happiest hours now were those in which he made
+himself delightfully at home in her flat, and added to his charm by talking to
+her with the old-fashioned, grandfatherly air she had enjoyed from the first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so Hal found a younger and softer Lorraine than she had known for a long
+time, waiting to hear the burden of her tale of woe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They talked it over in every aspect, Hal sitting in her favourite attitude on a
+stool at Lorraine&rsquo;s feet; but very little light could be won through the
+clouds. All the consolation Lorraine could suggest was a possibility that to be
+engaged and married to a man like Dudley might change Doris altogether for the
+better; but Hal, beyond feeling brighter for having spoken out her dismay, felt
+there was little indeed hope of that.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you seen Sir Edwin Crathie again?&rdquo; Lorraine asked presently,
+and she was surprised to see a spot of colour instantly flame into Hal&rsquo;s
+cheeks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had a long motor ride with him,&rdquo; she said, speaking as
+if it were a mere detail.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Have you</i>?&rdquo; was Lorraine&rsquo;s very expressive rejoinder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you say it like that?&rdquo; Hal laughed with seeming lightness.
+&ldquo;He just took me for a treat. He&rsquo;s rather sorry for me, being boxed
+up in an office, as he calls it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. Well, don&rsquo;t forget he has the reputation for being rather a
+dangerous man, old girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal laughed again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell him so, and go armed with a revolver next time.&rdquo;
+She noticed an inquiring look in Lorraine&rsquo;s eyes, and added:
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t look so serious, Lorry; he is old enough to be my father. He
+likes a little amusement, the same as you and Baby Hermon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned away as she spoke, and did not see the swift deepening of the look
+of inquiry, nor a certain strange expression that flitted across
+Lorraine&rsquo;s face; and almost immediately the door opened, and Alymer
+Hermon walked in unannounced.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, Hal!&rdquo; he exclaimed&mdash;&ldquo;it&rsquo;s quite a long
+time since I ran into you here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, Baby!&rdquo; she retorted. &ldquo;Why, I declare, you are
+beginning to look quite a man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t mind I&rsquo;ll pick you up and carry you all the way
+down the stairs to the street; then you&rsquo;ll see if I&rsquo;m a man or
+not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tut; any big creature could do that! Got any briefs yet?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine looked up instantly with an eager, questioning glance&mdash;while Hal
+asked gaily:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?... I suppose the original holder is sick, or dead, or
+something, and you are a stop-gap.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are wrong, Miss Sharp-tongue. I hold the brief entirely on my own.
+It hasn&rsquo;t even anything to do with any one in Waltham&rsquo;s
+Chambers.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And still Lorraine, with shining eyes, watched his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; said Hal, &ldquo;the other side have got a very small
+man, and they wanted a big one to frighten him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wrong again. The other side has Pym, and he is quite six feet in
+height.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then perhaps he looks clever, and they believe in contrasts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall carry you down to the street yet,&rdquo; threateningly;
+&ldquo;you are running grave risks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So is the poor man trusting his defence to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It happens to be a lady.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal clapped in her hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; she cried; &ldquo;now we are getting at it. The lady
+chose you because she thought your wig and gown becoming. How many interviews
+shall you be having with her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t say, but we had one this afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And was she very charming? Did she call you Baby?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only waste my substance trying to cope with any one as obtuse as Hal.
+Is she going to stay to dinner?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid so,&rdquo; smilingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took up his stand on the rug, with his back to the fire and looked down at
+Hal on her footstool.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a pity about the obtuseness,&rdquo; he commented,
+&ldquo;because she is really rather nice to look at. She has improved so much
+lately.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh no, I haven&rsquo;t,&rdquo; tilting her nose in the air. &ldquo;I am
+exactly the same; but you have acquired better taste. Is <i>he</i> going to
+stay to dinner, Lorraine?&rdquo; &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid so. You will have to
+call a truce, because I want to hear all about the brief; and I shall hear
+nothing if you persist in wrangling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t my fault,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I always try to be
+friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, as far as that goes, I always <i>try</i> to like you,&rdquo; Hal
+retorted with a laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You would find it much easier if you did not hurl insults at me. Begin
+another plan altogether.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come along to dinner,&rdquo; put in Lorraine, rising, &ldquo;and let us
+hear about this brief.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She led the way to the dining-room, and they had a merry little meal, arranging
+all about the congratulatory dinner Lorraine proposed to give for Alymer to
+celebrate the important occasion of his first brief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Afterwards Hal drove to the theatre with her, and stayed a short time in her
+room while, as Lorraine phrased it, she put on her war-paint.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she went rather sadly home alone, feeling lost and unhappy about Dudley.
+It crossed her mind once that Lorraine and Alymer Hermon seemed be on very much
+more familiar terms than previously, but she paid little heed to the thought,
+merely supposing that it amused Lorraine to help him in his profession.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She sat over the fire and tried to read, but presently the book went down into
+her lap, and her eyes sought the cheery flicker of the flames. Only there was
+no answering glow in her usually bright face, rather a sad uneasiness and
+perplexity, as if circumstances she hardly knew how to cope with were closing
+in upon her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt she had come to a difficult path in life she would have to face alone;
+for in her friendship with Sir Edwin Crathie neither Dudley nor Lorraine could
+help her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And, gazing into the fire with serious, thoughtful eyes, it was neither Dudley
+and Doris, nor Lorraine and Alymer who finally held her thoughts, but sir Edwin
+Crathie himself.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<p>
+The first time Sir Edwin rang up the newspaper office after the memorable
+Sunday it happened that Hal had gone into the country to report an opening
+ceremony, graced by Royalty, so she was saved the necessity of framing a reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One of the usual reporters being ill, the news editor had asked her if she
+would like to take his place, and she had eagerly accepted the chance. It meant
+a day in the country, travelling by special train, and the writing of the
+report did not worry her at all, as she had already served her apprenticeship
+to journalism, and knew how to seize on the most interesting points and
+condense them into a small space.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had a genius for making friends also, and after an excellent champagne
+lunch, and a cup of tea captured for her by a pleasant-faced man whom she
+afterwards discovered to be the Earl of Roxley, she motored back to the railway
+station with a well-known aeronaut, who promised to take her for a
+&ldquo;fly&rdquo; some day. They travelled up to town in the same compartment,
+and as Hal had to have her article ready for press when she reached the office,
+it was necessary to write it in the train.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The &ldquo;flying man&rdquo; wished to turn his hand to journalism too, and
+attempted to help her, without much success, though with a good deal of
+entertainment for himself. He was specially amused at her determination to lay
+considerable stress on the fact that one of the horses in the royal carriage
+fell down between the station and the park.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the good of putting that in?&rdquo; he argued; &ldquo;it is
+of no importance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, it&rsquo;s almost the most important thing of all,&rdquo; she
+declared. &ldquo;You evidently don&rsquo;t know much about journalism. The
+Public will not be half as interested in the King&rsquo;s speech as in the
+information that one of the horses fell down, and that the King then put his
+hands on the Queen&rsquo;s, and told her not to be frightened.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he didn&rsquo;t; and the horse only slipped.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&rsquo;re too dense!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;and, anyhow, you
+can&rsquo;t be certain that he didn&rsquo;t. It&rsquo;s what he ought to have
+done, and the British Public will be awfully pleased to know that he did.
+They&rsquo;ll be frightfully interested in the horse falling down, too. I
+suppose you would leave it out, and give dates of the building of the edifice,
+and the different styles of architecture, and the names of illustrious people
+connected with it. As if any one wanted to know that! The horse will make far
+better reading, though I daresay I ought to work in a few costs of things. The
+B.P. loves to know what a thing costs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, why not value the horse, as you think so much of it? or say that
+it snapped a trace in half which cost two guineas, and was bought in Bond
+Street?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They both laughed, and then Hal said seriously:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I&rsquo;ll make it kick over the centre pole, only then perhaps
+some of the other reporters will catch it for not having seen the kick also. I
+once wrote an account of a garden party, and left out that the horses of the
+Prime Minister&rsquo;s carriage shied and swerved, and one wheel caught against
+the gate-post. As a matter of fact, it did not do much more than graze it, but
+some journalist wrote a thrilling account of how the carriage nearly turned
+over; and I&rsquo;ve never forgotten the chief&rsquo;s face when he asked me
+why I hadn&rsquo;t mentioned the accident to the Prime Minister&rsquo;s
+carriage. I said there wasn&rsquo;t an accident, and he snapped: &lsquo;Well
+you&rsquo;d better have turned them all in a heap in the road than left it out
+altogether!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never made the same mistake since,&rdquo; she finished,
+&ldquo;and now, if the chief sees my paragraphs, he has to ring some one up
+occasionally, and make sure I haven&rsquo;t gone out of bounds
+altogether.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you&rsquo;re quite determined to lie... I mean romance... why
+not do it thoroughly? Let the King leap out of the carriage, with the Queen in
+his arms, and the royal coachman fall backwards off the
+box&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;both the horses burst out laughing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d get the sack for that,&rdquo; Hal spluttered, busily plying
+her pencil, &ldquo;and then I&rsquo;d break my heart, because I&rsquo;m in love
+with the chief.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh&rdquo;&mdash;with a low laugh, &ldquo;and is it quite
+hopeless?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite. The most hopeless <i>grande passion</i> that ever was. He&rsquo;s
+been married twice already, and the second is still very much alive. Did the
+Queen wear a black hat, or a dark purple one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dark purple, of course, like her dress. Why, I could write the thing
+better than you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you could, if you might have half the newspaper. I
+don&rsquo;t know where you&rsquo;d be in thirty-six lines!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove! Have you got to squeeze it all into thirty-six lines?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Less, if possible. There&rsquo;s been a row in Berlin, and we have to
+allow for thrilling developments, which may crowd out lots of other
+paragraphs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And supposing you want it a few lines longer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then the compiler will add a bit on about the weather, or throw in
+another dress description, or something. I&rsquo;m putting you in now,&rdquo;
+scribbling on; &ldquo;but I don&rsquo;t know your name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I&rsquo;m not going to tell it to you for your precious paragraph,
+so you&rsquo;ll have to cross that bit out again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; airily: &ldquo;a well-known aeronaut, who has
+recently beaten the distance-record, and is looking remarkably well in spite of
+his advanced years, was among the distinguished guests!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had to cry &ldquo;pax&rdquo; then.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I give you up,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you&rsquo;re too much for me! But
+I&rsquo;ll take you for a fly the first opportunity I get. Will you
+come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will I come!...&rdquo; in eager tones. &ldquo;Oh, won&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And he promised to arrange it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they reached Euston, Hal had to dash for the first taxi, and tear to the
+office with her report, and it was not until she was leaving that the call boy
+told her a gentleman had asked for her on the telephone in the afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he give any name?&rdquo; she asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Mr. Crathie.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal suppressed a smile. &ldquo;I suppose you told him I was out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, miss. He wanted to know when you would be back, and I asked Mr.
+Watson, and he told me to say &lsquo;Not before evening.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal climbed to the top of a bus, and journeyed homewards with a thoughtful air.
+Of course he would ring her up again the next day, and then what was she to
+say?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime, looming big in her immediate horizon was the visit to be paid
+to Holloway that evening. She was going up without Dudley, having expressed a
+wish to do so, with which he had willingly complied. She felt it would be
+easier not to appear forced without him, and would be fairer on Doris also. Yet
+she dreaded the visit very much, and longed that it was over.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel opened the door to her, as she happened to be in the little kitchen close
+beside it, and Hal thought she looked very ill as she grasped her hand with
+warm friendliness, saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How nice of you to come and see Doris so soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you doing in the kitchen?&rdquo; said Hal. &ldquo;I want to
+come and help.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m only making a salad, and shall not be long. You must go to the
+parlour&rdquo;; and she laughed at the quaint, old-fashioned word.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m coming to help,&rdquo; and Hal walked past her, through
+the open door. &ldquo;How&rsquo;s Basil? Dudley spoke as if he was not quite so
+well just now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid he isn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; with sudden, hardly veiled
+anxiety; &ldquo;but it may only be the foggy weather.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To any one else Ethel would probably have asserted that he was well as usual,
+and changed the subject; but she liked Hal specially, and showed it by being
+quite honest with her. She also knew perfectly well that Dudley&rsquo;s
+engagement must have been a great shock to his only sister, not solely because
+she had nothing whatever in common with Doris, but because she herself must
+love him; and her heart felt very tender and friendly over her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Although Hal had come to see Doris, she did not refrain from following her
+inclination, and seating herself on the kitchen table to chat to Ethel while
+she made the salad. Doris would keep, was her rapid mental conclusion, and they
+two might not get another chance of a few words alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Chatting thus, it was interesting to note the similarity that existed between
+these wielders of the pen, each daily immersed in a City office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Each had the same clear, frank eyes, the same independent poise of head, the
+same air of capable energy and self-dependence. Each, too, had the same rather
+colourless skin, from lack of fresh air, though whereas Ethel looked tired and
+worn, Hal seemed strong and fresh and wore no air of delicacy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Doris came, with her pink-and-white daintiness, and spoke to them both
+with a little triumphant air of condescension; for was not she engaged to be
+married, whereas clever, working women usually became &ldquo;old maids&rdquo;?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal tried not to seem too offhand, but it was quite impossible for her to gush,
+and she could not pretend a sudden affection just because of the engagement. So
+she just said something about Dudley being very happy, and hoped they would
+have good luck, and then went to the sitting-room to talk to Basil,
+entertaining him immensely with her account of the day&rsquo;s ceremony, and
+her haphazard friendship with the &ldquo;flying man&rdquo;, who was going to
+take her in his aeroplane.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who was he?&rdquo; Basil asked. &ldquo;Has he won any prizes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. He did not tell me. I did not discover his name
+either, but he was some relation of the &lsquo;Lord-of-the-Manor&rsquo; person
+who received the King.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know his name?&rdquo; asked Doris in a shocked voice.
+&ldquo;Weren&rsquo;t you introduced?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never a bit of it,&rdquo; laughed Hal. &ldquo;I was left behind when the
+last fly had gone to the station, and he heard me asking anxiously how soon one
+would get back again, and immediately offered me a seat in the motor he was
+going in. Another man was with him, a much be-medalled officer, who was
+somewhat heavy in hand to talk to, and at the station we gave him the
+slip.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can he take you for a fly if you don&rsquo;t know who he is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I dare say he won&rsquo;t; quite likely he didn&rsquo;t mean it;
+but if he did, he can easily find me at the office. He knew my name, and what
+paper I was there for. They both knew, which probably accounts for the
+gentleman with the medals being somewhat ponderous&mdash;soldiers are usually
+snobbish&mdash;and he may not have liked having to ride to the station with a
+newspaper woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if the other man was the Lord of the Manor&rsquo;s brother?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that wouldn&rsquo;t make any difference. He might very well be less
+self-important than anything in a bit of scarlet and medals if he had been the
+Lord of the Manor himself. Why, the Earl of Roxley got tea for me, and was most
+attentive.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris&rsquo;s eyes opened wider. She had always secretly entertained rather a
+superior attitude towards Hal and her sister, and was glad she was not an
+office clerk. The big, breezy, working world, where the individual is taken on
+his or her merits apart from birth, or standing, or occupation, was quite
+unknown to her; and that Hal&rsquo;s original, attractive personality might
+open doors for ever shut to her mediocre, pretty young-ladyhood, would never
+enter her mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I should care to talk to any one without being
+introduced,&rdquo; she remarked a little affectedly, to which Hal shrugged her
+shoulders and commented:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s just as well you haven&rsquo;t to knock about in the world,
+then. Any one with an ounce of common sense and perspicacity knows when it is
+safe, and when it is sheer folly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil watched her with an amused air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you do,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; She smiled infectiously. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve only once been
+spoken to unpleasantly in London, after knocking about for seven years, and
+then I offered the man a sixpence. I said: &lsquo;I&rsquo;m sorry I
+haven&rsquo;t any more, and I can&rsquo;t spare that, but if you are
+hungry!...&rsquo; He looked as if he would like to slay me, and
+vanished.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doris still looked slightly disapproving, and when at last Hal rose to go, she
+half-unconsciously asked Ethel with her eyes to accompany her to get her hat,
+instead of her prospective sister-in-law. And when they were alone, Ethel
+looked into Hal&rsquo;s expressive face, and guessing something of what she
+carefully hid, said sympathetically:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You and Dudley have always been so much to each other; I am afraid you
+must feel it a little having to share him already with another.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly and inexplicably Hal&rsquo;s eyes filled with tears, and she turned
+away quite unable to answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel pretended not to notice, but her heart bled for her, knowing how much
+worse it was than just the fact of the engagement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so wrapped up in Basil,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;that if it
+had happened to me I should have felt quite heartbroken, however much I told
+myself I wanted his happiness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal dabbed her eyes a little viciously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I want him to be happy,&rdquo; she managed to say; &ldquo;but
+it is nice of you to understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one thing,&rdquo; Ethel continued, &ldquo;you will become
+a sort of relation, and you&rsquo;ve no idea how pleased Basil and I will be
+about that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you?&rdquo; Hal smiled through her tears, &ldquo;I rather wonder at
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course we shall. Basil and I think you are one of the finest
+characters we have ever known. You&rsquo;ve no idea how proud we are when you
+come to see us,&rdquo; which proved Ethel&rsquo;s understanding heart, for a
+little generous praise is a kind healer to a sore spirit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked into her eyes, with a pleased light in her own.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are too generous, but it&rsquo;s nice to be thought well of by any
+one like you and Basil. I shall remember it when I am silly enough to be
+downhearted, and it will cheer me up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had to hurry away then to catch a train, and as she went her mind was full
+of the thought:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, oh why, had Dudley, in his blindness, wooed the younger
+sister?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he said, as she entered their sitting-room, where he was
+reading over the fire. &ldquo;How did you get on?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, splendidly&rdquo;&mdash;trying to throw a little enthusiasm into her
+voice. &ldquo;Doris looked amazingly pretty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She show a soft light in his eyes, and because it rather maddened her, she
+hastened to add: &ldquo;But I see a great change in Basil.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?... I wondered if you would. I was afraid he did not seem so
+well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley&rdquo;&mdash;with sudden seriousness&mdash;&ldquo;when Basil
+dies, it will just about break Ethel up. She idolises him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know; but she can hardly wish him to live on if he continues to grow
+worse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose not; but it&rsquo;s rather awful to think of what it will mean
+to her to lose him. And she&rsquo;s so sympathetic and tender-hearted.&rdquo;
+Hal stood a moment looking gravely at the fire&mdash;&ldquo;you know, I think
+she&rsquo;s the most splendid person I&rsquo;ve ever known.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Splendid!...&rdquo; a trifle testily. &ldquo;Why? Splendid seems an odd
+word to use.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the one that suits Ethel Hayward best of all. Anything else
+would be too commonplace. When I think what her life is&mdash;the endless
+struggle to make both ends meet&mdash;work morning, noon, and night&mdash;and
+on the top of it all the brother she adores a helpless, suffering invalid, it
+quite overawes me. If she were bitter and complaining it would be different,
+but she is nearly always cheerful and hopeful and ready to think of some one
+else&rsquo;s troubles. And yet she isn&rsquo;t goody-goody&mdash;nor what one
+describes as &lsquo;worthy&rsquo;; she&rsquo;s just human through and
+through.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She sometimes seems to me a little severe,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Severe!... Oh, Dudley, she is the kindest soul alive.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps she was tired; but it seemed to me, considering Doris&rsquo;s
+youth, she expected rather a lot of her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal turned away, and picked up an evening paper. The exclamation might have
+meant anything, yet Dudley half knew it meant that in some way Hal believed
+Doris had wilfully misrepresented her sister, and, naturally resenting the
+inference, he returned to his book and said no more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal lingered a little longer, passed one or two remarks on the evening news,
+told him of her day in the country, and then went to bed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, in spite of her soreness towards Doris, something in her evening with
+Ethel had unaccountably cheered and refreshed her&mdash;the kindly praise, the
+warm-hearted affection, the sight of the strong, womanly face, unembittered by
+its heavy sorrow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal stood at her window, and glanced out over the City, and felt renewed in her
+determination to withstand Sir Edwin Crathie&rsquo;s advances. She knew that he
+was treating her with a lack of respect he would not have dared to show a woman
+in his own circle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was treating her as a City typist; and however much she wished to prolong
+it, she knew she owed it to herself to cut it adrift.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the next day, when the anticipated telephone call came, her resolution was
+firm and unshaken.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell the gentleman I am engaged,&rdquo; she told the call boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He came back again a moment later to know what time she would be disengaged,
+and she gave the message: &ldquo;It is quite impossible to say. I have some
+most important work on hand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The small boy grinned in a way that made Hal long to box his ears, but she
+returned to her work, and pretended not to see.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the other end of the wire the speaker sat back in his chair and muttered an
+oath; then for some moments he stared gloomily at his desk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Damn it! I like her pluck,&rdquo; ran his thoughts; &ldquo;but I
+don&rsquo;t mean to be put off like that. I&rsquo;ve got to see her again
+somehow, if it&rsquo;s only to prove I&rsquo;m not the cad she thinks
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+The following afternoon when Hal left the office about half-past four she saw a
+motor she recognised a little way down the street, and was almost immediately
+accosted by Sir Edwin himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew you left at this time,&rdquo; he said frankly, &ldquo;so I came
+to meet you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked a little taken aback.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder why you did that,&rdquo; was all she found to say.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it was the only way, since you won&rsquo;t come to the telephone,
+and I am afraid to call on you in Bloomsbury. I want to talk to you. Come along
+and have some tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal hesitated, looking doubtfully at the motor, but he urged her on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come; surely you&rsquo;re not afraid to have a cup of tea with me.
+We&rsquo;ll go to the Carlton&mdash;or the Ritz if you prefer it&mdash;and take
+a conspicuous table.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In my office garments!&rdquo; with a low laugh. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+want to be taken for your housekeeper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My housekeeper is a deuce of a swell,&rdquo; laughing in his turn.
+&ldquo;She certainly wouldn&rsquo;t be seen in a last year&rsquo;s frock; but
+you&rsquo;re one of the lucky people who manage to look smart, even in office
+clothes, as you call them&mdash;so come along.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal got into the motor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which is it to be? Ritz or Carlton?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Carlton&mdash;and not the centre table.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you manage it?&rdquo; he said, as they glided off, looking at her
+with critical, admiring eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Manage what? I wish you wouldn&rsquo;t look at me like a doctor studying
+my health. I shall put my tongue out in a minute.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do that. A colleague or an opponent would be sure to be
+looking, and I don&rsquo;t know which would be worse. Manage to look smart in
+anything, of course I mean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s Lorraine Vivian and her maid; they loathe to see me
+dowdy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With a little help from the Almighty, who gave you a haughty little nose
+and a short upper lip,&rdquo; he told her laughingly. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re been
+very angry with me, I&rsquo;m afraid, and no doubt I deserved it, but I&rsquo;m
+going to make you be friends again and forgive me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You won&rsquo;t find it easy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dare say not; but I&rsquo;m going to try all the same. Shall I begin
+with a humble apology?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t be humble. I shouldn&rsquo;t believe in it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe I could with you&mdash;which means a great deal. Tell me, were
+you fully determined not to speak to me on the telephone, and not to see me
+again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most certainly I was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What nonsense! And did you really suppose I should submit without making
+an effort to see you, and persuade you to be friends again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal tilted her nose up a little, and glanced away as she replied a trifle
+scathingly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I supposed, having found I was not the sort of girl you imagined, and
+not one you could take liberties with, that possibly our friendship would cease
+to interest you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He coloured slightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You hit hard, but I suppose I have deserved it. I shall now have to
+prove to you that I&rsquo;ve turned over a new leaf, and deserve it no
+longer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They stopped before the Carlton as he spoke, and he led the way into the
+lounge, and to a side table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you&rsquo;ll trust me this far,&rdquo; he said;
+&ldquo;people stare so when one is in the middle of the room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal sat down and drew off her gloves, feeling, in spite of herself,
+unmistakably happy. It was good to be there, instead of trudging home to
+Bloomsbury; and it was specially good to be chatting to him again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A dear friend may be always a dear friend, and yet not just the one one wants
+at the moment. When things are difficult, and irritating, and disappointing,
+the pleasantest companion is apt to be one with so much individual regard for
+us at the time that we can hold forth upon our troubles without any fear of
+boring our listener.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Hal had poured her tale of woe into Lorraine&rsquo;s ear, she had known
+that Lorraine was genuinely interested and sorry&mdash;and yet, also, that
+something else occupied her mind at the same time. Sitting now, opposite to Sir
+Edwin Crathie, it was perfectly apparent for the time being that his mind was
+entirely at her service.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This was further shown by the fact that he realised something was worrying her
+before she told him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; he asked abruptly; &ldquo;you look as if
+something very boring had happened.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal kept her eyes lowered a moment, with a thoughtful air, and the corners of
+the fascinating mouth drooped a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What has happened?... Tell me what is bothering you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spoke peremptorily, yet with an evident concern for her that made the
+peremptory tone dangerously alluring. Hal remained silent, though she felt her
+pulses quicken, and he added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, we are going to be friends again; aren&rsquo;t we? I&rsquo;ve told
+you I&rsquo;m very sorry; I can&rsquo;t do more. You will really have to
+forgive me now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked into his face, and something in his eyes told her he was quite
+genuine for the time. Of course it might be rash, and unwise, and various other
+things, but it had been a difficult, trying week, and his sympathy was passing
+good now. Sir Edwin met her gaze for a moment, and then lowered his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He thought it was chiefly when her eyes laughed that he wanted to kiss her, but
+when they had that serious, rather appealing expression, he began to feel they
+were more disturbing still. Mastering his unmanageable senses with an effort,
+he looked up again, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what is it? Of course you must tell me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brother Dudley is going to be married,&rdquo; said Hal with her usual
+directness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When?&rdquo; And Sir Edwin gave a low exclamation of surprise.
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it rather sudden?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very,&rdquo; in dry tones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I suppose you don&rsquo;t want to love your prospective
+sister-in-law all in a hurry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to love her at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I don&rsquo;t suppose you will,&rdquo; with a little laugh.
+&ldquo;Presumably you know her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have known her a long time. If I had been asked, she is the last girl
+I could have believed Dudley would care for. I don&rsquo;t believe he does care
+for her in the real sense. She is very pretty, and she wanted to marry him, and
+she just played on his feelings.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you call &lsquo;in the real sense&rsquo;?&rdquo; he asked
+pointedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A pink spot burned in Hal&rsquo;s cheeks; she felt the question a little beside
+the mark, and did not want to answer it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She has rather a dull home, and is very poor, and I think she thought on
+the whole life would be improved if she were Dudley&rsquo;s wife.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that is not the real sense?&rdquo; insistently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It certainly is not love.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you haven&rsquo;t yet told me what is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know much about it,
+and&rdquo;&mdash;hastily&mdash;&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to. When it&rsquo;s
+real it hurts, and when it isn&rsquo;t real it&rsquo;s just feebleness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, you must know some day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He liked to see the spot of colour spreading in her cheeks, and the frank eyes
+growing a little defiant as he pressed her against her will.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t follow that I must. Perhaps I shall just be feeble, and
+marry for a home and luxuries.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never,&rdquo; with conviction. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll&mdash;Hal,
+you&rsquo;ll get it badly when once you&rsquo;re caught.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never said you might call me &lsquo;Hal&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you? Well, I apologise. May I?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She could not help laughing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You evidently mean to; and I suppose you usually have your own
+way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very often. That&rsquo;s sensible of you. Of course you are sometimes
+annoying sensible and practical. I don&rsquo;t know that I ever liked any one
+quite so level-headed before. It never appealed to me. Yet, somehow, I think
+you could lose your head. You&rsquo;ve got it in you to do so. I wouldn&rsquo;t
+give tuppence for a woman who hadn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was silent, and, as usual, he pressed his point.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think you could lose your head?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I shall,&rdquo; was the evasive answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt him looking hard into her face, and moved restlessly beneath a
+scrutiny that quickened her pulses and warmed her blood in a way that was
+altogether new. Then suddenly she looked up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think we are rather talking drivel? Let&rsquo;s get back
+to the original subject. I don&rsquo;t want to lose my head&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+rather a nice one&mdash;sound and reliable and all that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He sat back in his chair with a laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re very clever,&rdquo; he told her admiringly. &ldquo;I always
+seem to be out-flanked in the end. Very well then, Brother Dudley has got
+engaged foolishly, and Hal has been quietly fretting, instead of being a
+sensible little woman, and telling her friend all about it straight away. What
+are you going to do now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do anything. He won&rsquo;t get married for a few months
+anyway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when he does?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I shall stay where I am, and make the best of it, I suppose...
+but... but&rdquo;&mdash;her voice broke a little&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;m a
+positive fool about Dudley. I can&rsquo;t bear to lose him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor little woman. Well, I&rsquo;ll be good to you if you&rsquo;ll let
+me. I dare say I can brighten things up a little. Every cloud has a silver
+lining, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where Dudley&rsquo;s will be,&rdquo; with a wintry
+smile. &ldquo;It wouldn&rsquo;t be so hard if I thought there was any chance of
+his being happy. But there isn&rsquo;t. He doesn&rsquo;t in the least know her
+real character.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They sat on until seven o&rsquo;clock, and then Hal rose to go, feeling happier
+than she had done ever since they last met.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, am I forgiven?&rdquo; he asked, as she buttoned her gloves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are, for the present,&rdquo; with an arch glance; &ldquo;but I
+reserve the right to retract at a moment&rsquo;s notice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And in the meantime you will prove it by coming out to lunch on Sunday?
+We might go to the Zoo afterwards, and make friends with some of the
+animals.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the first suggestion of lunch Hal had been ready to shy away, but the idea
+of the Zoo on Sunday afternoon was too much for her, and she said with
+unmistakable longing:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should simply love the Zoo.&rdquo; Then, after a pause:
+&ldquo;Couldn&rsquo;t I meet you there about three?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why wait until three? It is not very friendly of you to refuse to
+lunch with me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I usually go to Lorraine&rdquo;&mdash;somewhat lamely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not bring Miss Vivian with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, could I?&rdquo; eagerly; &ldquo;that would be splendid&mdash;if she
+is disengaged.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A curious little half smile crossed his eyes at her eagerness; but he only
+said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly, and if she cares to bring a friend, to make the party an even
+number, I shall be only too pleased. Shall we say the Piccadilly, for a change,
+at 1.30?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal thanked him, and as she sped homewards in a taxi he had procured for her,
+she viewed the prospect with real delight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley, of course, would be spending his Sunday with Doris, and she and
+Lorraine, supposing the latter were disengaged, might have found the afternoon
+a little long alone. The evening was the occasion of the dinner-party to
+commemorate Alymer Hermon&rsquo;s first brief, so it was very likely Lorraine
+would be free at midday.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She thought it was nice of Sir Edwin to invite her friend as well, and as she
+reviewed the afternoon meeting, her heart was foolishly glad over his apology,
+and insistent determination to be friends. It was evident, she believed, that
+if she adhered to her resolute resistance of familiarity, she would be able to
+keep him at a discreet distance, and they might enjoy a really delightful
+friendship.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her eyes were smiling and glad at the little upper window that night. She had
+hated cutting off their friendship. The days had been dull and dragging without
+even a telephone chat with him; and though she still told herself it was
+chiefly because of the shock of Dudley&rsquo;s engagement, she knew it was a
+little for his sake also.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And she thought further, if they might now include Lorraine in some of their
+meetings, it would be an added safeguard, and very entertaining as well. She
+meant to telephone to her the first thing in the morning to fix up their Sunday
+engagement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Inquiries on the telephone, however, the next morning, elicited the information
+that Lorraine had already arranged to go out to lunch; and thus Hal found
+herself unexpectedly thrown on her own resources. A little note from Ethel
+asking her to accompany Dudley if she had nothing better to do, placed her in a
+further awkward position.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not want to go to Holloway, to swell the number of mouths to be fed out
+of Ethel&rsquo;s slender housekeeping purse, and add one more to be cooked for,
+etc., on Ethel&rsquo;s one free day. Finally, because it was the simplest, as
+well as the pleasantest thing to do, she telephoned Sir Edwin, and told him
+Lorraine could not accompany her on Sunday, but she would be there herself, and
+afterwards go to the Zoo.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And at the other end of the wire Sir Edwin smiled, an enigmatical smile that
+was unmistakably pleased, as he put back the receiver, and glanced towards the
+cosy fire in his grate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; he said to himself meditatively, &ldquo;if one could
+make her care, whether she could care enough to lose her head.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was rather a curious circumstance, that on the occasion of Lorraine&rsquo;s
+dinner-party, Alymer Hermon was the first to notice an indefinable change in
+Hal. To the others she was only gayer than usual, more sparkling,
+better-looking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From the Zoological Gardens Sir Edwin had taken her home in a taxi, and after
+being a delightful companion all the afternoon, had said good-bye in just the
+friendly, pally spirit that Hal wished, without exhibiting any alarming
+symptoms whatever to disturb her peace of mind. He had indeed been at his very
+best; far nicer than ever before; and together they had thoroughly enjoyed
+their intercourse, through iron bars, with the animals they both loved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Moreover, his knowledge on most subjects did not exclude zoology, and he was
+able to tell her numberless little details of the ways and habits of beasts
+that Hal rejoiced to hear, because she loved all four-footed things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then there had been the pleasant consciousness of a new winter costume,
+that was not only very up to date, but remarkably becoming; and Hal was true
+woman enough to enjoy the knowledge that she looked her best. Neither was it in
+any degree a mediocre &ldquo;best&rdquo;; and even Sir Edwin was a little
+surprised to find himself with a companion who attracted nearly as many
+admiring glances as various lady friends who were recognised beauties.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her slim, graceful figure was singularly perfect, and, as he observed with
+fresh pleasure each time they met, she walked with a natural elegance and grace
+that were a delight to the eye. And happiness gave a faint pink flush to her
+cheeks and a light to her eyes, that somehow seemed to radiate gaiety; and her
+intense power of enjoyment communicated itself to others in a way that was
+wholly delightful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they spent a gay afternoon, which cemented the former acquaintanceship into
+a firmer bond of friendship, and because of it he vowed within himself he would
+play fair with her, and make no more advances he was not prepared to follow up
+in an honourable spirit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Hal, it was enough that the past mistake seemed genuinely regretted and
+wiped out, and that all his manner to her now held deference and respect. And
+she was intensely glad&mdash;almost alarmingly glad, if she had stopped to
+consider; only that would have cast a shadow on the sunshine; and she preferred
+to take the sunshine while it offered, and leave the future to take care of
+itself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in the meantime there was Lorraine&rsquo;s dinner-party, instead of a
+lonely evening, and once more she dressed herself with care and skill; and
+later stood up straight and slim in Lorraine&rsquo;s pretty drawing-room,
+radiating happiness, and surprising even old friends with her good looks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon remarked it first. He was standing beside her on the hearth, and
+he looked down from his great height with laughing, quizzical eyes and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re looking astonishingly pretty tonight. Have you been
+consulting a beauty specialist?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick Bruce and Quin laughed delightedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, of course!&rdquo; cried Dick, digging his hands deep into his
+pockets, and giving himself a little gleeful shake, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been
+puzzling my head to grasp what it was. I&rsquo;d forgotten all about the beauty
+specialists. It must have cost an awful lot, Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It did,&rdquo; she told them; &ldquo;but you&rsquo;ve no idea how clever
+they are. They can renovate the most hopeless faces. I&rsquo;m sure you&rsquo;d
+all find it worth while running to the expense.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, come Hal,&rdquo; objected Quin laughingly. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t
+have the ornament of our flat insulted like that. The rising barrister needs no
+beauty specialist, you must admit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked up at the giant with twitching lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was going to suggest a brain specialist for him. It won&rsquo;t be
+much use getting lots of briefs because he looks nice in his wig and gown if he
+hasn&rsquo;t the brains to win his cases.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon caught her by the shoulders to shake her, and at that moment Lord Denton
+quietly entered the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine had met him in the hall, while hastening across for something she had
+forgotten, and told him to go in, so that he entered unannounced, and saw the
+group before they knew of his presence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Especially he seemed to see the two on the hearthrug. Hal, with her shining
+eyes, rising coulour, and laughing lips, and Hermon with a sort of answering
+glow in his face, boyishly gripping her shoulders as if to shake her. He stood
+and looked at them a moment without speaking, then Hal espied him, and thinking
+he had that instant entered, exclaimed:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Help!... Help!... Lord Denton, I am caught in the clutches of
+Leviathan.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He came forward smillingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leviathan does not look as if he meant to eat you; and even if he did, I
+don&rsquo;t believe my courage would run to closing with
+six-foot-five-and-a-half.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Awful, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; she said, releasing herself and giving him
+her hand. &ldquo;He is like those lanky pieces of corn which are all stalk and
+no head. Have you seen him before?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once,&rdquo; offering his hand to Hermon. &ldquo;Delighted to see you
+again. I hear you&rsquo;ve made a hit already. My cousin tells me his friend is
+charmed with your way of grappling with her case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you take her by the shoulders?&rdquo; asked Hal wickedly, rubbing
+her own.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Lord Denton told her. &ldquo;He was very grave indeed. You
+must give him his due, Miss Pritchard. You&rsquo;ve seen him grave yourself,
+haven&rsquo;t you now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; and he looked like a boiled owl. On the whole, I prefer him
+imbecile.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer turned on her threateningly, but she slipped behind the other two,
+saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you met these also, Lord Denton. Mr. St. Quintin, of Shoreditch,
+and my cousin, Dick Bruce, poet, novelist, and mother&rsquo;s help.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Denton shook hands with them genially, and then Lorraine came back, and they
+all followed her to the dining-room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The repast was a very gay one. Every one was in the best of spirits, and, which
+is more important still, all were in attune, and there was no dissentient note.
+Hal was perhaps the gayest, and Lord Denton found himself watching her almost
+if he were seeing her for the first time. She seemed to him to have developed
+amazingly in the few months since he last met her, but he supposed girls of her
+age often developed quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet even then it seemed a little strange that the merry, rather crude young
+typist, as he had regarded her before, should so easily appear a sparkling,
+distinguished guest. He could not help a little mental comparision with
+Lorraine, not in any way to the latter&rsquo;s detriment, but with a vague
+thought at the back of his mind concerning her and Hermon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine would always be beautiful: her whole face and form were modelled on
+lines that would stand the ravages of many years; and for him she would ever be
+one of the dearest of women; but could she match Hal&rsquo;s young, vigorous,
+independence, that was very likely to prove more attractive than a generously
+given devotion?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Men, like women, are drawn to an indifference that piques them; and he, man of
+the world that he was, foresaw a strong irresistible attraction about
+Hal&rsquo;s spirited independence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, on the other hand, Lorraine was intensely sympathetic and understanding,
+as well as beautiful; and it seemed strange indeed if any man she chose to
+enslave could resist her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He watched Hermon bend his fair head down to her dark one, with an
+affectionate, protective air, that was very becoming to him; and observed that
+with Hal it was all sparring, and told himself Lorraine had nothing to fear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They toasted Hermon on his brief, and on the laurel wreath Dick announced he
+already perceived sprouting on his manly brow. Hal said it was only a daisy
+chain, or the halo of a cherubim; and the laurels were rightly sprouting on
+Dick&rsquo;s brow as a novelist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon returned thanks in a witty, clever little speech, during which Lorraine
+seemed scarcely able to take her eyes from his face, and Lord Denton recognised
+more fully the extraordinary attraction such a man must wield, whether by
+intention or quite unconsciously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He pictured him towering a head and shoulders above nearly every one around at
+the law courts, with his clear-cut, fine face, looking yet more striking in the
+severe setting of a wig and gown; and he knew that Lorraine had made no mistake
+when she said he only wanted impetus and a chance to make a name for himself.
+If he could rap out a dainty little speech like this at a moment&rsquo;s
+notice, wearing just that air of unpretentious, boyish humour, his path ought
+undoubtedly to be a path of roses, petted by women, admired and appreciated by
+men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In conclusion,&rdquo; he was saying, &ldquo;may I suggest a toast to
+Miss Pritchard? I am sure you will all join me in offering her our warmest
+congratulations upon her sudden and unlooked-for promotion, from a somewhat
+nondescript young person to a brilliant and beautiful society belle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Speech! speech!&rdquo; cried Dick and Quin to her gleefully, noisely
+rattling their glasses, and Hal got to her feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ladies and gentlemen and Baby Alymer Hermon,&rdquo; she began.
+&ldquo;You must allow me to acknowledge your kind toast by congratulating you
+all, in return, upon the sudden and swift development of you powers of vision
+and perspicacity: equalled only, I may say, by your extraordinary dullness in
+not having observed long ago those traits for which you are pleased, at this
+late hour, to offer me your congratulations. Before I sit down I should like to
+suggest we all drink the healths of the celebrated actress who is our hostess,
+of a bishop in the making&mdash;&rdquo; signifying Quin; &ldquo;a great
+novelist in the brewing, and a gentleman justly celebrated for the eloquence
+and ease with which he does nothing at all&rdquo;&mdash;and she bowed to Lord
+Denton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Capital!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I am evidently dining in very
+distinguished company tonight&rdquo;; a little later, turning to Dick, he
+added: &ldquo;How soon, may I ask, will this great novel be procurable by the
+general public?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before Dick could reply, Hal intercepted gaily:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I think the carrots and turnips have fallen out as to which takes
+precedence at a dinner-party: isn&rsquo;t that so, Dick? And until the
+difficult question is settled, progress halts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something of the kind,&rdquo; agreed Dick promptly; &ldquo;and there is
+also discord among the vegetable marrows and pumpkins on a similar question;
+but when the Baby Brigade has settled the views of the Trade Unions, and
+reversed the Osborne Judgment, we shall be able to proceed smoothly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It sounds a very extraordinary type of novel,&rdquo; said Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is. I wanted, if possible, to write something even more imbecile than
+has ever yet been written. I have not the patience for great length; nor the
+wit for brilliant satire; nor the imagination for the popular, spicy,
+impossible, ill-flavoured romance; so I have chosen the other line, adopted by
+the great majority, and aim at purposeless, pointless imbecility.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is Hal the model for your heroine?&rdquo; asked Hermon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Hal&rsquo;s indignation and epithets had subsided, Quin remarked that he
+supposed the book fairly bristled with mothers, and with paragraphs of good
+advice to them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, yes,&rdquo; Dick admitted. &ldquo;There are certainly a good many
+mothers&mdash;far more mothers than wives, in fact.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, naughty!&rdquo; put in Lord Denton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. It has to do with a theory. It is to bring out the common
+sense of vegetables compared to humans. Humans condemn millions of women,
+specially born for motherhood, to purposeless, joyless spinsterhood, all on
+account of a prejudice. No green, brainless, commonplace vegetable would be
+guilty of such unutterable folly as that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be too sweeping,&rdquo; quoth Quin. &ldquo;In the East End
+women are still mothers from choice; and given decent, healthy conditions, they
+would proudly raise an army to protect their country from her threatening foes.
+It is not their fault that 50 per cent of their offspring are sickly, anaemic
+little weeds.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It sounds as if your book has a serious side in spite of its
+imbecility?&rdquo; suggested Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Imbecility and madness are usually full of seriousness,&rdquo; Dick told
+her&mdash;&ldquo;far more so than commonplace rationalism.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And do you want to revolutionise society?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh dear no; what an alarming idea!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what do you want?&rdquo;&mdash;they asked him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to see all the superfluous unemployed spinsters busy, happy
+mothers, patriotically contributing to raise a splendid fighting-force, for one
+thing, which will certainly be regarded as an utterly imbecile idea by a
+magnificently rational world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And have you any theory about it?&rdquo; asked Lord Denton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing but the worn-out, commonplace, absurdly natural theories of the
+vegetable and animal kingdoms. My only chance is that, being so ancient, and so
+absurdly natural, the modern world may mistake them for something entirely new,
+and seize upon them with the fasionable avidity for novelties.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Or they may lock you up,&rdquo; suggested Quin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In any case I&rsquo;m afraid you&rsquo;ll be too late,&rdquo; Hal
+commented, with a half grave, half sarcastic air; &ldquo;for before your
+theories can make any headway, England is likely to have given all her
+life-blood to systems, and restrictions, and cut-and-dried conventions, utterly
+regardless of her need for a strong protecting force to maintain her existence
+at all. Taken in the aggregate, she never has bothered much about the primary
+necessity for the best possible conditions for the mothers of the
+future.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a learned sentence, Hal,&rdquo; put in Lorraine, looking amused.
+&ldquo;Quite worthy of a militant suffragette.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The announced suffragettes are not the only ones who care for
+England&rsquo;s future,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I suppose I care a good deal
+because I&rsquo;m in the newspaper world, and I know something of what she has
+to contend against in the way of petty party spirit and the self-aggrandising
+of some of her so-called leaders, who haven&rsquo;t an ounce of true
+patriotism, and only want to shout something outrageous in a very loud voice,
+just to attract public attention.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Bruce is right up to a certain point,&rdquo; remarked Lord
+Denton. &ldquo;We can hardly contemplate the reinstitution of polygamy, but it
+certainly ought to be the business of the State to see that every child born
+into the country is given the best possible conditions in which to become a
+good citizen and, if necessary, a good soldier.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t there a Poor Law for that express purpose?&rdquo; asked
+Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t speak of it,&rdquo; commented Quin sadly. &ldquo;Our Poor
+Law, like so many excellent institutions, is mostly run on a wrong basis. Huge
+sums of money are expended in procuring homes for homeless children, and the
+last thing that seems to be considered is the suitability of the home.
+Applications are accepted in a perfunctory, business-like way by guardians and
+others&mdash;and perhaps an inspector takes a casual glance round; but the
+moral aspect of the whole matter, as to character and habits, is mostly left to
+chance. We, who are on the spot, often have to rescue children from the homes
+the State has provided for them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is more supervision, then, that you want?&rdquo; asked Lord Denton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a different sort of supervision altogether. It ought to be
+woman&rsquo;s work, not man&rsquo;s&mdash;women who are paid and encouraged and
+helped.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But that might be defying some of the precious conventions,&rdquo; put
+in Hal with a touch of scorn&mdash;&ldquo;making women too important,
+don&rsquo;t you know; and encouraging them to be something more than household
+ornaments. We can&rsquo;t have that, even for the sake of the future. It would
+be too alarming. No; England will continue in her cast-iron rut of prejudice,
+until most of her soul-power is dried up, and only the husk of a great nation
+is left, to follow in the way of other husks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I will go to the new, young, strong nation, and watch her splendid
+rise,&rdquo; quoth Dick.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Traitor!&rdquo; they threw at him, but he was quite imperturbed.
+&ldquo;Strength and vigour are better than old traditions and an enfeebled
+race; and somebody, somewhere on the globe, had got to listen to what I am
+bound to teach.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dear old Juggins,&rdquo; said Hal, &ldquo;when England has passed
+her zenith, and gone under to the new, strong race, you will be found sitting
+meditating among cabbages and green peas, like Omar Khayy&aacute;m in his rose
+garden. The rest of us will have died in the fighting-line&mdash;except Baby,
+and they will put him under a glass case, and preserve him as one of the few
+fine specimens left of a decadent race&mdash;in spite of his
+brainlessness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are we a decadent race?&rdquo; asked Lorraine thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only the House of Lords and a few leading Conservatives,&rdquo; said
+Lord Denton with flippancy. &ldquo;The workingman who has the courage to refuse
+to work, and the Liberal members who have the grit to demand salaries for
+upsetting the Constitution, led by a few eminent Ministers who delight to
+remove their neighbour&rsquo;s landmark, and relieve his pocket, are the
+splendid fellows of the grand new opening era of prosperity and
+greatness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; put in Quin hopefully, &ldquo;it is very fashionable to go
+big-game shooting nowadays, and an African lion may yet chew up a few of
+them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor lion!&rdquo; quoth Lorraine; &ldquo;but what a fine finale for the
+king of beasts, to chew up the despoilers of kings. Shall we go to the
+drawing-room?&rdquo; And she rose to lead the way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A Bridge table was arranged in an alcove for Hal and three of the men, and
+Lorraine and Hermon sat over the fire for preference. They were far enough away
+from the players to be able to speak of them unheard, and Hermon, in the course
+of their conversation, mentioned that he saw something different in Hal
+tonight to what he had noticed before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine thought she was only very lively, but Hermon looked doubtful. He could
+not express what he seemed to see, but in some way her liveliness held a new
+note. He thought she had more tone and a new kind of assurance, and he tried to
+explain it to Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I expect she&rsquo;s had a jolly afternoon,&rdquo; was all Lorraine
+said, with a smile. &ldquo;She has been to the Zoo with Sir Edwin
+Crathie.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has she?&rdquo; significantly, and Hermon raised his eyebrows.
+&ldquo;Are they still friends, then? I thought she only knew him
+slightly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was at the beginning,&rdquo; and Lorraine glanced at him with the
+smile deepening in her eyes. &ldquo;There always has to be a
+beginning&mdash;doesn&rsquo;t there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But no answering smile shone in Alymer Hermon&rsquo;s face, rather a slight
+shade of anxiety as he glanced across the room at Hal. &ldquo;I should not like
+a sister of mine to have much to do with Sir Edwin Crathie,&rdquo; he said
+gravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps not, you dear old Solemn-acre,&rdquo; giving his arm a gentle
+pat; &ldquo;but a sister of yours would not have learned early to battle with
+the world as Hal has.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But surely if she is less protected than a sister of mine would have
+been, there is the greater cause for caution.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no comparision. A sister of yours would always have known
+protection, and always rely on it, and if it failed her she might find herself
+in difficulties and dangers she hardly knew how to cope with. Hal faced the
+difficulties and the dangers early, and learnt to be her own defence and
+protector. Some women have to, you see. It is necessary for them to wield
+weapons and armour out of their own strength, and be prepared to be buffeted by
+a heartless world, and not be afraid. If you had a sister, you would want to
+keep her in cotton-wool, and never let any rough, enlightening experience come
+near her. If I had a daughter, I should like her to have the enlightening
+experience early, and learn to be strong and self-dependent like Hal; then I
+shouldn&rsquo;t be afraid of her future.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was silent a few moments, then added thoughtfully: &ldquo;I think it would
+be better for society in general if the girls of the leisured classes knew more
+about the world, and were better able to take care of themselves; meaning, of
+course, with a pride like Hal&rsquo;s in going straight because it&rsquo;s the
+game.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon&rsquo;s eyes again strayed to Hal&rsquo;s pretty head, with its glossy
+brown hair, and Lorraine continued after a pause:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I&rsquo;m afraid of anything with Hal, it is that she might let
+herself get to care for some one who isn&rsquo;t worth her little finger, or
+some one who is out of her reach, or something generally impossible. She
+wouldn&rsquo;t care lightly; and she&rsquo;d get dreadfully hurt.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But surely she couldn&rsquo;t actually fall in love with a man like
+Edwin Crathie?&rdquo; he remonstrated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t thinking of Sir Edwin specially. She goes about a great
+deal, you know, and meets many people. She has a strong vein of romance too. I
+always feel I shall be very glad when she is safely anchored, if only it is to
+the right man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were interrupted then by the Bridge players, who had finished their first
+rubber, and Lord Denton persuaded Hermon to change places with him for a time,
+and came to sit over the fire with Lorraine. Presently he too mentioned Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is the best woman Bridge player I have ever met,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;She seems to be developing into something rather out of the ordinary.
+Hasn&rsquo;t she grown much better-looking?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine smiled, a slow, sweet smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Alymer Hermon has just been praising Hal too,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;I
+like to hear you men admire her; it shows you can appreciate sterling worth as
+well&mdash;well&mdash;shall we call it daring impropriety?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a little severe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I? Well, you see, I know a good many men pretty intimately; and I
+have gleaned from various confiding moments that it is not the working woman
+chiefly, relying only on her own protection, who strays into the murky byways
+and muddy corners of life. It is surprisingly often the direction of the idle,
+home-guarded, bored young lady. Flip, if it came to a choice, I believe I would
+put my money on the worker. It&rsquo;s such a splendid, healthy, steadying
+thing to have a real purpose and a real occupation; instead of just days and
+weeks of idle enjoyment. And as for temptations! Well, they abound pretty fully
+in both cases; it isn&rsquo;t the amount of temptation likely to be encountered
+that matters, so much as the quality of the individual armour to meet it
+with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, when it comes to being hungry and cold and having no
+money?&rdquo; he argued.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t make much difference in the long run, except that one
+hopes The Man Above will surely find a wider forgiveness for the woman who was
+hungry and cold than for the woman who was just bored, but hadn&rsquo;t the
+grit to find an aim and purpose to renew and invigorate a purposeless life. All
+the same, I&rsquo;d like to see Hal safely anchored to a real good fellow.
+Flip, if you could persuade her to try, she&rsquo;d make you a splendid
+wife.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what in the world should I do with a splendid wife?&rdquo; laughing
+frankly into her face&mdash;&ldquo;what an appalling possession! Lorry, old
+girl, I&rsquo;ve got a splendid woman pal, and that&rsquo;s good enough for me.
+If I ever want a wife you shall have the privilege of finding me one: but it
+won&rsquo;t be until I am old and gouty, and then she had better be a hospital
+nurse, inured to irritability.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are quite hopeless,&rdquo; shaking her head at him, &ldquo;but I
+don&rsquo;t particularly want to lose you as a friend, unless it is for Hal; so
+we&rsquo;ll say no more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sensible woman! And now I must really be off. I like your friends,
+Lorry. They&rsquo;re very fresh. And of course Hermon is tremendous. You
+haven&rsquo;t overdrawn him at all. Only to be careful. Remember the burnt
+child. A man like that ought to be made to wear a mask and hideous garments,
+for the protection of susceptible females.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He would need to speak through a grating trumpet as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I suppose he would. Even I can hear the attraction in his voice. It
+will be splendid when he begins to feel his feet in the law courts. We&rsquo;ll
+make a celebrity of him, shall we&mdash;just for the interest of it. But
+it&rsquo;s to be only a hobby, Lorraine, no entanglements,
+mind&rdquo;&mdash;and he laughed his low, pleasant laught.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, call it a hobby, or what you like&mdash;only keep him in mind
+now, Flip. I&rsquo;ve got him into an ambitious spirit that means everything,
+if there is enough fuel at the beginning to keep it alight until it is a
+glowing pile quite capable of burning gaily alone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are. I like him. You fan the flame, and I&rsquo;ll rake up the
+fuel. I&rsquo;ll speak to Hodson about him tomorrow. He&rsquo;s always ready
+to lend a hand to a promising junior.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they had all gone, Lorraine lingered a few moments by her fireside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A hobby!&rdquo; she breathed; &ldquo;yes, why not? Man-making is almost
+equal to man-bearing. I have no son to spur up the Olympian heights; but what
+might I not do for Alymer, if… if&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She placed her hands on the mantelshelf, and leaned her forehead down on them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Alymer,&rdquo; she whispered, a little brokenly, &ldquo;I wonder if I
+ought to be ready to give you all, and ask nothing? Perhaps make you all the
+splendid man you might be, just for some one else, and get nothing myself but a
+heart-ache?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<p>
+The winter months passed more or less uneventfully and pleasantly. The case in
+which Hermon had held his first brief, though in only a very secondary
+position, was rather splendidly won. An unlooked-for development in it roused
+public interest, and filled the Hall with spectators. Lord Denton went out of
+curiosity, and was present when Hermon, as an unknown junior, made his first
+public appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not the only man specially interested either; senior counsel on both
+sides had its grandiloquent eye on the new-comer, so to speak&mdash;interested
+to know how he would acquit himself. Afterwards they congratulated him very
+warmly, and Denton went to tell Lorraine he had made a hit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He looked splendid,&rdquo; he declared enthusiastically; &ldquo;and he
+was delightfully calm and self-possessed. He&rsquo;ll soon get another brief
+now. You see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did; and the future began to look very full of promise to this favourite of
+fortune.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Lorraine had predicted, his growing success filled his mind, and kept him
+safe from many pitfalls; while her sympathetic companionship satisfied him in
+other respects, and formed a substantial bulwark between him and the women who
+would have tried to spoil him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had other women friends as well, but Lorraine felt they were not dangerous,
+by the way he talked of them. As long as he did not get foolishly engaged, and
+cripple his career at the very outset, as he easily might while he had no
+income to rely on, she did not fear. Lord Denton advised her to marry him to an
+heiress as soon as possible, but Lorraine knew better than to risk an impeding
+millstone of gold, and insisted he must just win his way through on the
+allowance his father gave him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime they were a great deal together, and though they seldom went to
+any public place alone, they occasionally broke their rule; and it was known,
+at any rate in theatrical circles, that Lorraine rarely went out with her own
+old set, and had grown reserved and quiet. Hal knew something of the absorbing
+friendship, but she still made light of it, and sparred with Hermon whenever
+she saw him&mdash;&ldquo;for his good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a matter of fact, she did not go quite so much to Lorraine&rsquo;s as usual
+herself; for many of the hours she had been accustomed to spend there she now
+spent with Sir Edwin Crathie. All through the winter they continued to take
+motor rides into the country; and often they went together to a quiet,
+unfashionable golf club, where they were both learning to overcome the
+intricacies and trials of that absorbing pastime.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was easy for Sir Edwin to silence curious tongues. He spoke of her quite
+frankly as his niece, and Hal more or less acquiesced, because it was simpler
+to arrange an afternoon&rsquo;s golf, for Dudley had managed to become very
+thoroughly absorbed in Doris, and she asked no questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The only two to raise any real objections were Dick and Alymer Hermon. Dick had
+to be talked round, and thoroughly impressed with Sir Edwin&rsquo;s great age
+(of forty-eight), and though Hal did not state the actual years, she was
+perfectly correct in insisting that he was old enough to be her father; though
+she need not perhaps have said it in quite such a tone of ridiculing an absurd
+idea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Anyhow, Dick was pacified up to a certain point, and obliged to see that the
+new friendship did her good, keeping her cheerful and hopeful in spite of her
+bitter disappointment about Dudley&rsquo;s engagement, and generally
+brightening the whole of the winter routine for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With Hermon it was rather different. He was less cosmopolitan than Dick, and he
+insistently adhered to his first idea concerning what he would have felt had
+Hal been his sister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why she should have been specially interested did not occur to him. Dick, of
+course, actually was a sort of brother, being much more so in a sense than many
+real brothers, as far as personal interest and protection went.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Has was first left an orphan she had been a great deal with him, at his
+own home, and they had always been special friends both then and since.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Hermon was in no sense either a brother or a special friend. They had never
+done anything else but spar, however, good-naturedly; and Lorraine, in
+consequence, twitted him once or twice about looking grave over Hal&rsquo;s
+doings.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Hermon had laughed, and coloured a little, saying something about a feeling
+at the flat that they all had a sort of right in Hal, and he didn&rsquo;t see
+what that brute, Crathie&mdash;a Liberal into the bargain&mdash;wanted to be
+taking her about for.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He even went so far as to say something to Hal herself about it; one day, when
+they were alone in Lorraine&rsquo;s drawing-room, waiting for her to come in,
+Hal had just told him frankly she had played golf with Sir Edwin the previous
+day; and in a sudden burst of indignation Hermon exclaimed:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t think how you can be so friendly with the man. Surely you
+know what he is? He has about as much principle as my foot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal had turned round and stared at him in blank astonishment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goodness gracious!&rdquo; she exclaimed, &ldquo;what an outburst! What
+has Sir Edwin done to hurt you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he stood his ground steadily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know it isn&rsquo;t that. If you were my sister, I wouldn&rsquo;t
+let you go out with him as you do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what a comfort for me, I&rsquo;m not. And really, Baby dear!
+I&rsquo;m much more adapted to be your mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rot!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her almost fiercely for a moment, scarcely aware of it himself,
+but with a sudden, swift, unaccountable resentment of the old joke. Hal,
+surprised again, backed away a little, eyeing him with a quizzical, roguish
+expression that made him want desperately to shake her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Grandpapa,&rdquo; she murmured, with a mock, apologetic air, &ldquo;you
+really mustn&rsquo;t get so worked up at&mdash;at your advanced years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His face relaxed suddenly into laughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether I want to shake you or kiss you… you…
+you&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks, I&rsquo;ll take the shake,&rdquo; she interrupted promptly.
+&ldquo;I certainly haven&rsquo;t deserved such severe punishment as a
+kiss.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took a step towards her, but she stood quite still and laughed in his face;
+and he could only turn away, laughing himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet he was conscious that her attitude riled him. He was not in the least vain,
+but all the same it was absurd that Hal should persist in being the one woman
+who was not only utterly indifferent to his attractions, but seemed almost to
+scorn him for them. In some of the others it would not have mattered in the
+least&mdash;at any rate he thought so&mdash;but in Hal it was sheer nonsense.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He liked her better than any one, except perhaps Lorraine, and he always
+enjoyed their sparring; but of course there was a limit, and she really might
+be seriously friendly sometimes; and anyhow he hated Sir Edwin Crathie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While he thought all this more or less vaguely, Hal watched him with
+undisguised amusement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think so hard,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;it spoils the line of
+your profile.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hang my profile!&rdquo; he exclaimed, almost crossly. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t
+you be serious for five minutes, you&rsquo;re always so&mdash;so&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at all. I&rsquo;m perfectly serious. A frown doesn&rsquo;t suit you
+one little bit. Imagine a scowl on one of Raphael&rsquo;s cherubim.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to imagine anything so silly, and I&rsquo;m not in
+the least like a cherub. It would be more sensible if you want to do some wise
+imagining, to think of Sir Edwin Crathie, and imagine yourself in the
+devil&rsquo;s clutches.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I&rsquo;ve not the smallest wish to be in Sir Edwin&rsquo;s
+clutches, so why should I try to imagine it?… and you&rsquo;re not at all
+polite, are you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m honest anyway; and I&rsquo;ll warrant that&rsquo;s more than
+he can rise to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But really, dear Alymer,&rdquo; reverting again to the mocking tone,
+&ldquo;at what period of your friendship with him have you had occasion to find
+him out?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your sarcasm won&rsquo;t frighten me. A man knows more about this sort
+of thing than a girl. Of course he is all right in an ordinary way, but you are
+so often with him… Considering his political career, it is positively
+unpatriotic of you to be such close friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such nonsense! Do you want me to be as bigoted and narrow-minded as
+those Conservatives who are continually holding the party back, because they
+are quite incapable of realising there are two sides to a question? I
+don&rsquo;t hold the same views as Sir Edwin at all. I&rsquo;m not likely to,
+being on the staff of the <i>Morning Mail</i>; but that isn&rsquo;t any reason
+why I should object to him as a friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; but his reputation might be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal stamped her foot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t stand there and talk about a man&rsquo;s reputation in
+that superior, self-satisfied fashion. What is it to you anyhow? My friendship
+can&rsquo;t possibly be any concern of yours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She moved away with a restless, ruffled manner, and threw back at him:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I&rsquo;m awfully grateful to you for being so interested in
+my welfare, but your concern is a little misplaced. I am quite capable of
+taking care of myself, and have been for at least seven years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked hurt, and about to retort, but at that moment Lorraine&rsquo;s
+latch-key sounded in the door, and Hal went out into the hall to meet her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad you&rsquo;ve come,&rdquo; she remarked, as they
+re-entered together. &ldquo;Baby is in one of his insufferable, superior moods,
+and is lecturing me on my friendship with Sir Edwin. And all because I casually
+mentioned I had had a game of golf with him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine looked a little surprised, but she only remarked laughingly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a little fad of his to lecture. I rather like it; but I
+wonder he had the temerity to lecture you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unfortunately, lecturing doesn&rsquo;t instill common sense,&rdquo; put
+in Hermon, &ldquo;and it only requires common sense to understand Sir Edwin
+Crathie isn&rsquo;t very likely to prove a satisfactory friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean it only requires dense, narrow-minded self-satisfaction.
+Really, Baby, if you are so good to look at, there is surely a limit even to
+your permissible airs and graces&rdquo;; and Hal tossed her head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now come, you two,&rdquo; interposed Lorraine; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want
+quarreling over my tea. Give her some of that sticky pink-and-white cake,
+Alymer, and have some yourself, and you will soon both grow amiable
+again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He hasn&rsquo;t got his bib,&rdquo; Hal snapped, &ldquo;and he knows his
+mother told him he was to have bread-and-butter first. You are not to spoil
+him, Lorry. Spoilt children are odious.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So are conceited women,&rdquo; he retorted. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s only that
+new hat that is making you so pleased with yourself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a dear hat,&rdquo; she commented. &ldquo;You have to pin a
+curl on with it, else there&rsquo;s a gap. I&rsquo;m in mortal dread I shall
+lose the curl, or find it hanging down my back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No more was said on the subject of Sir Edwin, but when Hal was about to leave,
+and found that Hermon was staying on, she pursed up her lips with an air of
+sanctimonious disapproval and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to hurt any one&rsquo;s feelings, but I&rsquo;m not
+at all sure <i>Mr</i>. Hermont is quite a nice friend for you, Lorraine. His
+conversation is neither elevating nor improving, and I hardly like to go off
+now and leave you alone with him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry,&rdquo; Lorraine laughed. &ldquo;He is improving every
+day under my tuition. I hope you can say as much for Sir Edwin.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can,&rdquo; she answered frankly. &ldquo;He has learnt quite a lot
+since I took him in hand; especially about women and the vote. He has
+positively made the discovery that they don&rsquo;t all want it just for
+notoriety, and novelty; but I&rsquo;m afraid he won&rsquo;t succeed in
+convincing the other dense old gentlemen in the Cabinet. Good-bye!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be circumspect, O Youth and Beauty. And don&rsquo;t let him over-eat
+himself, Lorry,&rdquo; she finished, as she departed.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hermon was finding fault with Hal&rsquo;s friendship for Sir Edwin
+Crathie, it had not apparently occured to him that his own friends and
+relations were likely enough to take precisely the same view of his friendship
+with Lorraine Vivian. He did not want to think it, any more than Hal had done,
+and therefore he conveniently ignored the probability, and indulged in the
+reflection that anyhow they were never likely to hear of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet it was through them, and their ill-chosen mode of interference, that the
+first trouble arose, when that quiet, peaceful winter was over, and the spring
+arrived with renewing and vigour, and with new happenings in other beside the
+natural world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was as though the one gladsome winter of pleasant companionship and
+firesides was given to them all&mdash;Dudley and Hal, Ethel and Basil, Lorraine
+and Hermon&mdash;before the wider issues of the future stepped in and claimed
+their toll of sorrow before they gave the deeper joys.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon&rsquo;s father and mother were at this time living in a charming
+house at Sevenoaks, whither he went at least once a week to see them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His father had become more or less of a recluse, enjoying a quiet old age with
+his books; but his mother was an energetic, bigoted lady of the old school, who
+had allowed much natural kindliness to become absorbed in her devotion to
+church precepts and church works.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When it first reached her ears that her only son, of boundless hopes and
+dreams, was continually with the actress Lorraine Vivian, she was horrified
+beyond words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Undoubtedly the story had been much magnified and embroidered, and accepted as
+a scandalous liaison or entanglement without any inquiry. To make matters
+worse, Mrs. Hermon belonged so thoroughly to the old school that she could not
+even distinguish between a clever celebrated actress and a chorus girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The stage, to her, was a synonym which included all things theatrical in one
+comprehensive ban of immorality and vice, with degrees, of course, but in no
+case without deserving censure from the eminently respectable, well-born
+British matron. She could not have been more upset had the heroine of the story
+been the under housemaid; and indeed she placed actressess and housemaids in
+much the same category.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course the friendship must be stopped, and stopped instantly. What a mercy
+of mercies she had discovered it so soon, and that now it might be nipped in
+the bud. Just at the very outset of his career, too, which had so astonishingly
+developed of late, and caused her such proud delight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That that surprising development, both in the career and the beloved son, might
+have anything to do with this dreadful entanglement was not to be thought of
+for a moment; and when Alymer&rsquo;s father ventured to suggest thoughtfully
+and a little wonderingly that the friendship had certainly not harmed the boy,
+she turned on him with bitterness, ending up with the dictum that men were all
+alike when there was a woman in the case, and could not possibly form an
+unbiased opinion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After which, she went off to church to a week-day service, partly to pray for
+guidance in a matter in which she had already firmly decided what line to take,
+and partly to unburden her mind to her pet clergyman. Of course she must speak
+to Alymer that very evening. How fortunate that it was one of the nights he
+almost always came to Sevenoaks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If only he had lived at home it would never have happened. It was all that
+hateful little flat where he lived with Bruce and St. Quintin. She ought never
+to have given way so easily. If his father had docked his allowance, in order
+to compel him to live at home, he would soon have got used to the daily train
+journey, and it would have been far better for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, of course, he was not likely to hear of it; and since he was making such
+good headway in his profession, it certainly did seem a pity to risk upsetting
+him. But no doubt a little quiet talk would convince him of the unwisdom of
+allowing his name to be associated with an actress just now; and once more she
+congratulated herself that she had heard in time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Rev. Hetherington listened to her story with all the sympathetic horror
+she could wish, and she felt buoyed up in her adamantine decision, although she
+still harped on the intention of praying for guidance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Rev. Hetherington, of morbid and woeful countenance, was one who looked
+across a world glorious with spring sunshine, as if he saw nothing but the
+earwigs, and black-beetles, and creepy, crawly things of existence, and he
+promised readily to pray also: and perhaps God smiled the smile He keeps for
+the good people who so often ask to be guided by His Will, when they have long
+before decided exactly what that Will shall be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The pastor accompanied his parishioner to her door, walking slowly with her
+through a garden bursting into a joyous splendour of crocuses, and snowdrops,
+and promise of laughing daffodils in warm corners; and together they lamented
+the terrible temptations of wicked sirens that beset the paths of splendid
+young men in the world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that he isn&rsquo;t a good, affectionate son,&rdquo; she finished,
+&ldquo;but he has always been made so much of&mdash;which is not in the least
+surprising, and no doubt he has grown lax. Still, he might have remembered how
+proud a name he bore, and, at least, have drawn the line at a frivolous,
+painted actress. His father says she is very clever and quite well known, but
+even he cannot deny she probably paints her face; and surely that is enough to
+show what her mind is! How Alymer could endure it, I don&rsquo;t know. He has
+been used to such perfect ladies all his life, and the mere sight of paint
+should disgust him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, of course,&rdquo; murmured the mournful parson, who had great
+hopes of a big subscription for his Young Women&rsquo;s Bible Class, and was in
+two minds as to whether to regard the present moment as auspicious, and
+introduce the need of educating all young women in high and holy thoughts; or
+whether it was wiser to wait until his companion were in a less perturbed frame
+of mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the crocuses nodded and laughed, holding up their little yellow staves
+gaily to the sunshine, and shouting to each other that it was spring,
+clamouring to make the most of their great day, before the flowers came in
+battalions to crowd them out of sight and mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the gentle little snowdrops whispered secrets to each other, which only
+themselves could hear, about warmth and sunshine and the beauty of the new
+spring world&mdash;too old in the wisdom of nature to pay any heed to the two
+humans who would rather have had a world all maxims and rules, and rigid
+straight lines from which no gladsome young hearts ever strayed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally the mournful clergyman went away without asking for his subscription,
+having made mental decision that there would be far more trouble to come over
+the painted woman, and yet more propitious occasion was likely to arise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Alymer&rsquo;s mother went into the house with set, severe lips; and pulled
+down all the blinds that were letting in sunlight, for fear some of the carpets
+got spoiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not, however, venture into the library, where her husband sat in a
+large bow window reading, with sunlight flooding all round him, and sunshine in
+his quiet eyes, and the sunshine of a great man&rsquo;s thoughts filling his
+mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was too much of a philosopher to worry about his son, and, moreover he knew
+Alymer well, and had great faith in his good sense; but he realised a mother
+would take fright more quickly, and that it was as well to let her have her
+talk with the boy, and comfort herself with the belief that she had saved him.
+As long as she did not shut out his library sunlight, nor bring her pet
+clergyman into his sanctum, he found it easy to balance her sterling
+companionable qualities against certain others of a trying nature, and go
+serenely on his philosophical way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Undoubtedly Alymer was a well-selected mixture of both parents. To his mother
+he owed his fine features and his power of resolve when he chose to exert it;
+and to his father his splendid stature, his quiet little humours, and the
+old-fashioned, courtly protectiveness that had so quickly won Lorraine&rsquo;s
+heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet it was a mixture that might have borne no practical results if left to
+itself, but rather a retarding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Lorraine had so clearly seen, the spur of ambition, and a resolute
+determination to succeed in other walks than that of the casual, charming,
+petted favourite of fortune, were indispensable to bring his traits into a
+harmony with each other that would achieve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was to this end that she had given him of her best encouragement and help;
+too old and too wise not to have seen that whatever her own personal feelings
+towards him, it was extremely probable that she had helped him towards
+realising his highest promise, for some one else to reap the deepest joy of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, at any rate she had had the interest and the companionship, and these had
+not been small things. He had come into her life just when it was wearying of
+triumph and adulation; when lovely frocks and jewels, and hosts of
+admirers&mdash;the very things she had craved for a few years earlier&mdash;had
+commenced to pall in the light of the little real satisfaction to be won from
+them. With some women perhaps they never palled. Perhaps each fresh conquest
+renewed them, and each fresh triumph invigorated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In Lorraine&rsquo;s complex character, the love of success was blended with a
+love of the deeper and richer things of life. She was of those to whom, at
+times, wide spaces, and fresh breezes, and the big, sweeping, elemental things
+call loudly, above the noise of the world of fashion; and she knew what it was
+to be filled with an aching nausea of all she had practically sold her soul to
+win, and a yearning <i>nostalgia</i> for something that might satisfy the finer
+instincts of her nature.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in a measure her interest in Hermon had filled the void. Whatever her
+feeling had been in the beginning, it had undoubtedly merged now into a
+definite purpose for his good, from which she meant to eliminate&mdash;if the
+time came when he wanted to be free of her&mdash;any claim her heart might
+clamour to assert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her dealings with him were, for the time being, on a par with the generous
+unselfishness she had shown towards her mother. For both of them she found the
+courage and resolution to thrust herself in the background and give of her best
+as the hour required.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If the friendship had been permitted to develop quietly along these lines, a
+future day might have witnessed Lorraine quite naturally outgrowing her
+infatuation, and happily satisfied with the result of her unwearying interest
+and effort; while Hermon, from his proud pinnacle of success, would still have
+felt her his best friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But at the critical moment the blundering, disturbing hand was permitted to jar
+the harmony of the strings and spoil the melody. To what end?… who knows?…
+Perhaps to some unseen, mysterious widening, and deepening, and learning
+necessary to the onward march of Humanity towards its goal of Perfection.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2>
+
+<p>
+Alymer knew directly he entered the house, and saw his mother, that something
+had upset her, but he did not associate it with Lorraine, and kissed her with
+his usual warm affection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not until after dinner, when they were alone in the drawing-room, that
+the subject was broached, and then, with very little preliminary, Mrs.
+Hermon&mdash;bending Divine Guidance to her own will&mdash;made a merciless
+attack on &ldquo;the painted woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was no doubt the most unwise course of action conceivable; but Mrs. Hermon,
+with her quiet and philosophical husband, and her only son, had led a
+sheltered, smoothly flowing married life, after a yet more sheltered girlhood,
+far removed from the passionate upheavals of society, and she had neither
+practical worldly knowledge nor experience to aid her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She told him the story that had reached her ears through the jealousy of a
+sister, whose only son was very plain, and a scapegrace, and who had been
+fiendishly glad to have an opportunity to cast a slur upon the doings of the
+successful, handsome, steady young barrister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Douglas says he is always with her,&rdquo; had been her sister&rsquo;s
+conclusion&mdash;&ldquo;and that every one is talking about it, and there is a
+dreadful lot of scandal. I thought it was only kind to tell you, as if he goes
+on in the same way he will certainly ruin his career.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then had come the parting shot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We all think so much of Alymer, that I would not believe such a story of
+him without proof. Douglas said he usualy went to her flat in Chelsea about
+five, when he leaves Chambers, and I went twice to see if he came; and on each
+occasion he strode along, and swung into the building almost as if he lived
+there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Hermon did not at first tell her son the source of her information, and he
+did not ask her. Neither, somewhat to her surprise, did he attempt to exculpate
+himself, nor to make any denial.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stood up on the hearth with that straight, strong look he had, when all his
+faculties were acute, and heard her through to the end. Then she said in a hurt
+voice: &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t deny it, Alymer. I have been hoping you went to
+the flat on business, and there was some mistake.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I deny everything that you have implied against Miss Vivian. The story
+of the friendship is true.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His quiet self-possession seemed to disconcert her a little. She was prepared
+for indignant denial, or angry remonstrance even; but this calm self-possession
+was something almost new to her. True, he had always been calm and
+philosophical, like his father; but this was something deeper and stronger than
+she had yet known in him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The fact is, mother,&rdquo; he went on after a pause, &ldquo;you have
+run away with a totally wrong idea of Miss Vivian. If she were the sort of
+actress you picture, you might perhaps be anxious; but all the same I think you
+might have given me credit for rather better taste.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear, an actress is an actress&mdash;and everyone knows what that
+is; and the mere fact of her calling, or whatever you like to name it, is
+sufficient to seriously hurt your position.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He smiled a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dispute the dictum that everyone knows whant an actress is, in the
+sweeping sense you mean. I do not think you know, for one. I shall have to try
+and persuade Miss Vivian to come and see you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed I hope you will do no such thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again he smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In any case I should not succeed. She is very proud, and would resent
+patronage even more than you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Hermon gave a significant sniff of incredulity, but she only said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Alymer dear, you will give me a promise not to see her any
+more&mdash;won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t do that, mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is out of the question. For one thing, I owe too much to Miss Vivian;
+and for another, I am too fond of her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the more reason you should try to break off the friendship at once,
+before she has succeeded in any of her schemes to entangle you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She has no schemes to entangle me, as you put it. She has been a
+splendid friend. I owe my first brief to her, and a good deal else
+beside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, and no doubt you have already given her a good deal in return.
+Quite as much as she deserves. There is no necessity for you to ruin your
+whole career, just because she happens to like being seen out with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a silence, in which Alymer seemed to be cogitating how best to disarm
+his mother&rsquo;s fears; and also to be reminding himself of her natural
+ignorance on theatrical matters, and his own need to be patient therefore. At
+last he said quietly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Vivian only wants to help me in my profession; and I can only tell
+you again she has been a splendid friend to me. Aunt Edith has told you a great
+deal of nonsense. She has always been glad to pick holes in me if she could.
+Most of it is lies, and you must take my word for it. It is useless to discuss
+the matter. I am sorry you have been so worried, but I don&rsquo;t know how to
+make you understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I understand far better than you think; and I know you ought to end the
+friendship at once. I want you to do so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is out of the question. But you need not worry. You must just forget.
+No...&rdquo; as she attempted further remonstrance; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t go on. I
+cannot listen to any more against Miss Vivian. I think I will go and smoke a
+pipe with the pater. Shall you come and sit with us?&rdquo; And a certain
+expression in his eyes that reminded her of his father in his most decisive
+moods told her he meant to say no more. She rose at once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had failed, and she knew it, but she had not the smallest intention of
+giving in. She had started on the wrong tack, that was all. Of course the boy
+was too chivalrous to go back on a friend, particularly as he believed he was
+under some obligation to her. Her plan of mercilessly tearing the lady to
+pieces had not been a good one, but she would think of something else, and save
+him in spite of himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And comforting herself with this reflection, she allowed the subject to drop,
+and went with him to the library. Her next plan should be a more sure one. She
+would work in secret with an agent to help her, who could see the enormity of
+the danger, and appreciate more thoroughly than his father the urgent need to
+interfere. She had already a vague plan in her head that she believed an
+excellent one, and which she could put into execution immediately.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was an old-fashioned, time-worn plan, but Mrs. Hermon was a woman of
+old-fashioned ideas, and she did not know but that she was the originator. She
+had not the least idea that quite the commonplace course of action in these
+questions was to send a secret emissary to the lady, to reason with her, or
+plead with her, or bribe her, according to her status, on behalf of the
+innocent young victim of her charms. The great thing, she imagined, was to find
+a suitable agent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, besides the sister who was jealous, she had a bachelor brother of a
+certain well-known stamp. A good-looking, aristocratic, well-preserved man of
+independent means; and though over sixty years of age, still a gallant, with
+not much in his handsome head beyond a pathetic desire to continue to
+captivate, and a belief that he was as invincible as ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very shady stories had more than once been written down to his account, but he
+had the wit always to rise above them and sail serenely on to do more mischief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His sister rightly surmised that he would have considerable knowledge
+concerning actressess and the theatrical world, and without troubling to
+consult her husband, she took him into her confidence and unburdened all her
+trouble.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Phew!&rdquo; murmured the elderly beau, &ldquo;so the young scamp has
+got entangled with an actress, has he? Shocking!… shocking!… But don&rsquo;t
+worry, Ailsa; we&rsquo;ll soon square the lady one way or another. Do
+you&mdash;er&mdash;happen to know if she is of the nature one can offer money
+to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think not. Alymer insists she is a lady in the real sense; though, if
+so, why did she go on the stage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Love of excitement, I dare say. Is she, by any chance, a chorus
+girl?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not exactly; though really I fail to see any difference in degree
+between one actress and another. They are all on the stage; and no doubt they
+all paint their faces and snare good-looking young men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No doubt,&rdquo; agreed the man, who had more than once made it his
+business to snare an unsuspecting, trusting girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you will go to see her, and persuade her to drop him; won&rsquo;t
+you, Percy? It is no use talking to his father; he does not see the matter in a
+serious enough light. He believes Alymer will soon tire of her. So he may, but
+in the meantime she may irredeemably injure his career. Of course, if it is a
+question of money we will find it all right; but whatever it is, try to cut the
+whole matter off entirely. Make love to her yourself, Percy, if that is what
+she wants&mdash;you know you have always been rather good at that sort of
+thing&rdquo;; and she smiled at her own astonishing wordly wisdom, feeling
+almost rakish at having framed such a sentence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; with a deprecatory shake of his head, that did not, however,
+hide a certain fitful gleam in his eyes, &ldquo;I am getting too old for those
+kinds of pranks now, but I will do my best to&mdash;er&mdash;&rdquo; For a
+moment he wondered whether he meant to do his best to make love to the actress
+himself, or try to rescue Alymer, and finally finished: &ldquo;follow out your
+wishes and suggestions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew you would, Percy. It was a good idea of mine to ask you.
+Don&rsquo;t mince matters at all, will you? Make her thoroughly understand she
+has got to give him up under any circumstances, or we shall,
+well&mdash;er&mdash;take proceedings if it is possible. Anyhow, Alymer must be
+guarded against himself, and his father is too unpractical to help, so we must
+do it alone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I quite agree. Alymer is an exceptionally fine fellow, with an
+exceptionally promising future; and if he cannot see for himself how foolish a
+scandal would be just at the outset, we must, as you say, save him on our own
+account. I am fond of Alymer, very fond, and very proud, and I will do all in
+my power over the matter. What is the actress&rsquo;s name, did you say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I mentioned it; but Edith told me in her letter. I
+will look for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went to a writing-table, and returned with the epistle in her hand,
+glancing through it until she came to the required information, when, without
+looking up, she read, &ldquo;Lorraine Vivian.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the same time a sudden, curious, startled expression crossed the faded eyes
+of the white-haired gallant, and he turned quickly aside, stroking his
+moustache with a slightly nervous air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Eh? Do you mean the well-known celebrity?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Surely
+not Miss Vivian of the Queen&rsquo;s Theatre?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so. I never go to the theatre, so I never hear these names.
+Edith certainly writes as if she were well known. Does it makes any
+difference?&rdquo; she asked, as he was silent. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want to
+go? If you don&rsquo;t I must find some one else; that is all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But certainly I will go. I was only a little surprised. She must be a
+good deal older than Alymer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That only makes it worse. No doubt she is no longer pretty enough for
+older men, so she has to set her cap at young ones, who are flattered by her
+attention. I certainly thought Alymer had more sense&mdash;but there&mdash;one
+never knows, and these women are very clever, I believe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;D&mdash;d&mdash;I mean&mdash;extraordinarily clever; but we can be
+clever too, and I dare say we can contrive to outwit her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little later he went away to catch a train back to town, leaving his sister
+reassured and hopeful; but as he went he repeated to himself in a low,
+incredulous voice: &ldquo;Lorraine Vivian… Lorraine Vivian… How strange that I
+should be asked to undertake a mission that will cause us to meet again. I
+wonder if you will recognise me quickly? I flatter myself, even white hair has
+not destroyed my claims to a woman&rsquo;s favour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine had not the smallest idea of what was coming upon her. She knew
+perfectly well herself that it would be most unwise for a rising young
+barrister to get talked about with an actress known to have a husband living,
+and it had made her a great deal more cautious than she would otherwise have
+bothered to be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Moreover, Alymer, seeing nothing to gain by making known his mother&rsquo;s
+fears, preferred not to annoy her with any account of them. To say that he was
+wholly unaffected by it, however, would be to say too much. He was, indeed,
+exceedingly and bitterly annoyed with his interfering aunt, who had obviously
+tried to make trouble for some petty motive of jealousy. He only hoped that his
+mother would take her line from him and his father, and maintain a dignified
+front, unmoved by his aunt&rsquo;s tale-bearing gossip.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was slightly affected in another way also. It was almost the first time he
+had seriously considered what the world might say if their great friendship was
+known. He knew it well enough to believe it would be in haste to put the worst
+construction on it, though their own immediate friends might stand by them
+loyally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It caused him to consider that construction in a light he had hitherto been
+protected from by circumstances, for it thrust forward an aspect they had
+successfully kept in the background. It made him ask the question, What was he
+prepared to do if his aunt continued her persecution, and some sort of change
+had to be made in the friendly, delightful intercourse?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He wondered a good deal what Lorraine&rsquo;s own attitude would be. Would she,
+perhaps, now that she had given him his start, cut all the friendship off for
+his good, and return to her old friends and admirers? He shrank from the
+contemplation of such a solution undisguisedly, and meant to continue their
+pleasant relations if possible.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He certainly wished no change whatever, if it could be avoided. Lorraine meant
+everything to him just then, and he could not but know how much his
+companionship and affection had come to mean to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So the next day he paid his customary visit, and talked as usual of many
+things, but said no word of what had passed the previous night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine&rsquo;s room was full of violets and snowdrops, cushions of them on
+every side, in lovely array. He moved about looking at them, and she watched
+him from a low chair by the fire, clad in some new spring gown of an exquisite
+mauve shade, that seemed to tone with the violet-bedecked room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It gave her dark eyes something of a violet tint, and her hands looked as white
+and delicate as the snowdrops. Moving about from mass of blossoms, Alymer,
+glancing at her, thought she looked younger and lovelier than ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have a spring air about you,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and all the room
+seems full of spring. There is something about it all I like better than the
+lilies and roses and malmaisons usually making a display.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I sent them all to the dining-room,&rdquo; she told him. &ldquo;Every
+spring is such a beautiful new thing, it has to be allowed to reign supreme for
+a little while in here. It gives me rather an ache to see them, all the
+same&rdquo;&mdash;after a pause&mdash;&ldquo;they make me dream of the smell of
+the new woodland, that delicious, damp, earthy smell of spring, and all the
+young, joyful bursting of buds and springing of seeds and the mating birds, and
+the showers that make the leaves glisten. I feel as if I should like to tramp
+out across the country in such a shower, and get healthily wet, and be a real
+bit of the spring for just one week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you go? You are not looking very well, and the country
+air would probably do you no end of good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to go alone, and I do not know who I could take. Hal
+is not able to leave, and mother would merely be bored to tears, and Flip
+Denton is at Monte Carlo. There is no one really but you and Hal and Flip who
+would fit in with my spring mood. Any one else would strike a discordant
+note.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish I could come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The wish escaped him almost involuntarily, as, with the sight of the spring
+flowers and the spring scent in his nostrils, he too felt the call of the
+fresh, wild, vigorous things in his blood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine looked at him with a curious expression on her face. Why, she
+wondered, did he not seriously contemplate coming? Why did he so steadily
+pursue, as far as she was concerned, his serene and passionless path? She
+believed he cared more for her than for any one else; and, if so, was it
+possible the ache sometimes in her heart for a closer bond and resolutely
+strangled, had no counterpart in his hot, vigorous youth?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he looked suddenly into her eyes, as if to see whether she had heard his
+wish, and what she thought of it. And as their gaze met, she saw the blood
+mantle to his face, and a half-shamed expression creep into it, as if he had
+been discovered in a thought that should never have been permitted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked away again to the flowers, and Lorraine turned her eyes to the fire,
+with a swift wonder in her mind. She felt that something had transpired since
+they last parted&mdash;something she did not know of, and that was entirely
+different to anything that had crossed their path before. Some new thought had
+been put into his mind. Something that made him give her that half-shy,
+half-wondering look.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gazed hard at the fire, and her pulses began to beat a little fitfully. She
+knew instinctively that something had come suddenly into being between them,
+which neither might name, and which was the oldest thing in the world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then across her mind, as once before, swept with swift pitilessness a
+vision of what might have been; of what life might have held for her had she
+been among the blessed&mdash;an aching, tearing longing for a youthful hour she
+had irretrievably missed. She drew her hand across her eyes, ignoring his
+presence, shutting him out, seeing only the heavenly joy she had missed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Supposing such a moment had come to her with such a man, when she, like him,
+was in the first flush of youth and beauty; of dreams and hopes, and rich
+believing. What a knight for a lovely maid! What a lover to dream of bashfully
+and fearfully; and with all her soul one thought of him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From her vantage ground of much doing and much knowing, she looked back
+yearningly to the bloom and springtide of life, when all splendid things are
+possible, and any day may bring the splendid knight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And instead had come... ah, what?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well! For her it had been the wolf in sheep&rsquo;s clothing, who, beside all
+he had robbed her of, had taken all her chance of the one great awakening to
+blinding joy. Now she could only look upon the joy from afar, seeing a barrier
+of fateful years, and, like a drawn sword at the gate of her dream, the stern,
+unyielding decree that has echoed unchanged down the long centuries:
+&ldquo;Thou shalt not&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer was silent too, standing with the thoughtful expression on his face that
+was so attractive, probing a little nervously into that wish he had expressed,
+and wondering a little uncertainly just what it meant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Lorraine got up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are grave, <i>mon ami</i>; and it is the springtime. Grave thoughts
+are for the autumn of life&mdash;recklessness better becomes the joyful
+spring.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you ever reckless nowadays?&rdquo; he asked, watching her graceful
+movements as she bent down and buried her face in a cushion of violets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am when I smell violets. They may be modest and retiring little
+flowers, but they hold spring rapture and spring lavishness and spring desiring
+in their scent all the same.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you are reckless now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What was it made him dally thus upon dangerous ground? What was it made him
+speak to Lorraine as he had never spoken before, on the very day after his
+mother&rsquo;s admonition? Why did his immense height and strength and the
+young vigour in his blood suddenly blot out the years that lay between them,
+and sweep into his soul, the knowledge of his masculinity and might, which of
+its own nature possessively dominated her femininity?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They seemed all at once to have strayed into an atmosphere, born of that
+warning admonition, and of their talk, of the reckless, creative spring; and
+because, in spite of his youth, he was very much a man, and she was a
+dangerously attractive woman, his pulses leapt fitfully and eagerly with the
+swift ache that has existed ever since God made man and woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without looking up, Lorraine felt this. The very air about them seemed charged
+with it, and she too, under some spell of springtime, moved into closer
+proximity to the splendid knight. She brushed against his arm unconsciously;
+and looking down on the top of her dark head, he said half-shyly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You somehow seem such a little thing today, Lorraine, I feel as if I
+could pick you up, as one does a small child.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; with a low laugh&mdash;&ldquo;just think of
+my dignity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you are not dignified today. You seem as young and light-hearted as
+the springtime. I feel as if I must be years older than you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She raised her face suddenly, with yearning eyes:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, let us emulate the spring this once&mdash;let us both be young and
+foolish and real, and pretend there isn&rsquo;t any one else in the
+world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For one second he looked at her with wondering incredulity, then, with a
+tender little laugh he suddenly bent down and folded his arms round her till
+she seemed to vanish altogether into his embrace, and kissed her on the lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The scent of violets has intoxicated us,&rdquo; he said, and kissed her
+again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he gently pushed her into her big, deep chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going now. I only ran in to see how you were after that bad
+headache. You must bring the lilies and malmaisons back tomorrow, or I shall
+be offending so grievously you will forbid me the flat. Good-bye!&rdquo; And
+without another word he went away out of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine sat quite still, and let the spell wrap her round for the precious
+moments that she could yet hold it. Of course it could not stay. In an hour at
+most she would be her old, brain-weary self again, with the best of her youth
+behind her; while he was still there on the threshold, young and strong and
+free. But even this one short hour was good. Life had not given her many such.
+She would fence it round with silence, and solitude, and the scent of violets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer went out into the streets wondering at himself vaguely, and yet with a
+pleasant glow of memory. He felt it bewildering that Lorraine Vivian, whose
+favours were so eagerly sought by men, should have allowed him to kiss her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It seemed something apart altogether from her generous friendship and helpful
+influence. It made him pleased with himself, and filled his mind with a yet
+greater tenderness to her. He knew so much now of her early difficulties and
+following troubles&mdash;of the frivolous, unprincipled mother, and the long,
+uphill fight. She had honoured him with her confidence in spite of his youth,
+and now&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He quickened his steps, and his pulses leapt yet more fitfully. Spring was in
+the air and in his blood, and one of the recognised beauties of London had been
+gracious to him beyond all dreaming.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was enough for the present hour. Why ask any inconvenient questions and
+spoil it all? Let the future look after itself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only one thought for a moment cast a little shadow upon his ardour. It crossed
+his mind, for no accountable reason, to wonder what Hal would think. He was a
+little afraid she would strongly disapprove.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, after all, if she did, what matter? He owed nothing to Hal, and there was
+no reason why her views should disturb him in the least. Of course it did not…
+and yet… Hal&rsquo;s good opinion was a thing worth having; and, in short, he
+hoped she would not know.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not that she was straight-laced. She was too near the heart of humanity
+through her daily toil to be other than a generous judge; but she was also a
+creature of ideals for herself and for those who would be among her best
+friends; and she would have known unerringly that no great, consuming love had
+drowned his reason and filled his senses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was for that she would have judged him; and for that he would have stood
+before her direct gaze ashamed. One might be gay and irresponsible and merry,
+but there were just one or two things which must not be allowed in that
+category. Instinctively, he knew that in Hal&rsquo;s view he would have
+transgressed&mdash;not because he felt too much, but because he felt too little
+to be justified.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But why need she know? Why need any one know? He did not think his mother would
+follow up any further the story she had been told, and he would see his aunt
+about it personally. It was better to have it out with her, lest she took upon
+herself to interview Lorraine, and make more trouble still.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He ran up the stairs to the flat, two steps at a time; and scrambled to get
+changed for the dinner to which he was going, still feeling a pulsing thrill
+that, among all men, he was Lorraine Vivian&rsquo;s chosen friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In another flat&mdash;a bachelor one in Ryder Street&mdash;an elderly beau,
+likewise dressed for a dinner-party, though with the utmost care and precision,
+instead of a scramble. And to himself he said, as he took a long, last look at
+the image he loved:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must go tomorrow morning and settle this little matter about Alymer.
+No doubt Lorraine will be amazed to see how well-preserved I am. She cannot
+have any real feeling for such a boy, and, after all, a good-looking man of the
+world&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He smiled to himself as over a thought that pleased him, and rang for his
+servant to go out and hail a taxi.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was not difficult for Alymer to persuade himself that a little diplomacy on
+his part would probably assuage his aunt&rsquo;s wish to upset his friendship,
+and incidentally allay his mother&rsquo;s fears; but, as it happened no one
+having his welfare so exceedingly at heart over this matter with the actress
+was in any degree as amenable or as quietly pacified as he imagined.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another interview took place between his mother and his aunt, in which the
+latter advised writing to Miss Vivian direct to tell her what his father and
+mother thought of the friendship, and that an uncle of his would call upon her
+at once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To say that the letter was an insult is to put it mildly, though at the same
+time it was not so much through intention as ignorance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine read it with silent amazement, and thought the writer must be mad. It
+seemed quite incredible that any lady in the twentieth century should
+apparently be so ignorant concerning the status of a celebrated actress. It was
+evidently taken for granted that she was an adventuress of the worst type.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was naturally somewhat angry and indignant, but decided it was not worth
+while to take any notice, and merely awaited with some curiosity the visit of
+the uncle who was to expostulate with her, and, practically, offer her terms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He came at about twelve o&rsquo;clock, and he did not give his name, merely
+asking to see Miss Vivian on a matter of business.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine dressed with special care, and looked her best when she quietly
+entered the drawing-room. She gave an order to her maid with the door half
+opened, in the most casual and imperturbed of voices, then she came slowly in,
+closed the door behind her, and advanced towards the figure standing on the
+hearth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When she had taken two steps she stood still suddenly, and in a voice that was
+rasping and harsh, exclaimed:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>You</i>!&mdash;&rdquo; Alymer&rsquo;s uncle squared his shoulders,
+stroked his white moustache with a gallant air, and replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes&mdash;er&mdash;Lorraine. We meet again, you see. I may
+say&mdash;er&mdash;I am very glad indeed that it is so,&rdquo; and he advanced
+a step with outstretched hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Lorraine was rooted to the spot where she stood, and a sudden, sharp
+fierceness seemed to burn in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have&mdash;<i>you</i>&mdash;come&mdash;about&mdash;Alymer&mdash;Hermon?&rdquo;
+she asked in slow, cutting tones, as if each word was hammered out of a
+seething whirlpool of suppressed emotions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Alymer is my nephew, and his mother asked me to come
+and&mdash;er&mdash;talk to you about him. She is a good deal perturbed on his
+behalf&mdash;er&mdash;because&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not want to know any more than I am able to gather from the
+extraordinary epistle I received from her this morning. What I should like to
+know is, did you agree to come here on this errand, knowing who I was?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The faded blue eyes of the carefully dressed old roué began to look
+uncomfortably from one object to another; anywhere, indeed, but into those
+scorching orbs, with their suppressed fires.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he took his courage in his hands, and tried again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Lorraine, you seem to be taking rather a theatrical view of a
+very commonplace matter. Of course it is bad for the boy to get mixed up in a
+scandal, just at the beginning of his career, or, for the matter of that,
+talked about with a celebrated actress whose husband is known to be living
+somewhere. I have come to you as a man of the world, to ask you as a woman of
+the world to be generous in the matter, and help me to set the minds of his
+parents at rest at once&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! It was as a man of the world you came to me before; but then
+I&mdash;I&rdquo;&mdash;she gave a low, unpleasant laugh&mdash;&ldquo;I
+wasn&rsquo;t a woman of the world, you see, until you had taught me, and left
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not quite know what the laugh meant, but now his old eyes were roaming
+over the beauty that was yet hers, and memory was stirring, and something made
+him reckless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t speak of it like that,&rdquo; he pleaded drawing a little
+nearer. &ldquo;I know I didn&rsquo;t perhaps treat you quite well; but if there
+are any amends I can make now?&mdash;If you will let us be friends
+again?&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Amends&mdash;amends. What do I want with amends from such as you?&rdquo;
+And her eyes flashed dangerously. He retreated quickly, with a hurt, rather
+cowed expression.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Fate has thrown us together again and I am still a
+bachelor&mdash;and I have money&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do please try not to insult me any further.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine had grown calmer, though the dangerous look was still in her eyes, and
+she moved away to the window, leaving a large space between them, and
+half-turned her back to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have already burnt the epistle I received from Mrs. Hermon&mdash;its
+insults were too utterly foolish to notice. You may go back and tell her her
+son has never received any harm from me, and I absolutely decline to discuss
+the question any further. As for yourself&mdash;you will doubtless find a
+taxi on the rank, just outside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my dear lady, I cannot go back leaving the matter like that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He grew emboldened again, now that he could not see her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am here to plead on Alymer&rsquo;s behalf. If you are fond of him, you
+must at least listen to reason for his sake.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not from you. And who are his people that they dare to treat me like
+this? . . . First an insulting letter, and then an emissary such as
+you&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Alymer is my nephew, and his mother is my sister, and therefore I am a
+most suitable emissary, except for a certain incident of long ago, which has
+long been consigned to oblivion by both of us, I am sure. The boy is young. He
+is on the threshold of life and a great career. What will be the result, do you
+think, if you refuse to listen, and perhaps ruin his prospects for your own
+pleasure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She turned back to him a moment, and the smouldering fires leaped up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was young. I was on the threshold of life. What did you care for my
+youth or my future? What do other men like you care? My mother was lax, and you
+knew it. I believe you gave her diamonds. And now you come to me and ask me to
+spare your nephew&mdash;<i>you</i> come&mdash;<i>you</i>!...&rdquo; and the
+scorn in her voice lashed him like a stinging whip.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he tried valiantly to stand his ground, though all his fine attire and air
+of bravado could not save his visible shrinking into a faded, dissipated,
+worthless-looking old rogue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you won&rsquo;t listen to any plea from me, will you permit me to
+make one from his mother, and appeal to the woman in you to realise her
+anxiety?&rdquo; Lorraine turned again to the window and looked out upon the
+silver, shining river. And suddenly it was as though all her soul rose up in
+arms. She felt with swift passion that it seemed to matter so much in the world
+that a young man with a promising future should not run any risk of harm from
+an older woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But if it was a young woman, and an older man, what did it matter then! Why,
+the very man who would have hurt her could allow himself to plead for another
+young thing, if that other were a man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doubtless he would argue, as all the rest of them, that years in men craved the
+freshness and revivifying of youth it was only natural, and a woman mattered so
+much less. But the mature woman herself, she has no right to indulge in any
+longing for that same freshness and revivifying.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ten years ago this man had been just at the age, and with just the handsome,
+aristocratic appearance, in spite of iron-grey hair, that so often attracts a
+girl in the early twenties. She scorns boys at that age, and feels the
+compliment of being chosen by a man of the world before the many older women
+she cannot choose but see would gladly be in her place. That it is her youth
+and not herself that holds the attraction is unknown to her, and a clever man
+may often dupe her young affections.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine, with her romantic, imaginative temperament, had grown to believe
+herself in love with him, and then had followed the old, sordid story of insult
+and her consequent disillusionment. The memories stung her now with a bitter
+stinging heightened by the feeling that life cared so much more for
+Alymer&rsquo;s welfare than it had ever done for hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then that appeal to her woman&rsquo;s feeling to sympathise with the
+perturbed mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, because she was his mother, surely she was blessed enough. What had
+she&mdash;Lorraines&mdash;to place against that great fact? She felt painfully
+that in spite of her success her life was pitifully, hopelessly barren, scarred
+this way and that, torn and rent and damaged by mistake upon mistake which
+could never now be rectified.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A nausea of it all made her feel in those tense moments, gazing at the serenely
+flowing river, that had she a child she would be borne away on the smooth
+silver water with her little one, out of the fret and turmoil, to some quiet
+nest in the cliffs at its mouth; and there for the years that were left her she
+would fill her days with the peaceful, homely joys that had never yet been
+hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But how could she go alone? Only in the uneventful days to find her loneness
+intensified a thousand times, and without escape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No; the river would flow on to that serene haven; but never for ever would she
+and a little one of her own be borne on its motherly bosom to the country of
+little things and peacefulness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the thought only stung her afresh; driving the sting in deep and sharp
+while this man remained under her roof.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said at last; and in the interval his voice seemed to
+have regained some of its polished, self-possessed satisfaction. &ldquo;I see
+you are deep in thought. You were always tender-hearted, and I felt I should
+not appeal to your womans heart in vain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her face was turned away, so that he could not see her expression, nor read
+what was in her eyes, and purposely she let him go on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will, I know, let me go back with the message Mrs. Hermon is waiting
+for so anxiously. It will be quite simple. No doubt you have countless
+admirers, and if you summon another, and let Alymer think he is replaced, after
+the first hot-headed wrath he will quickly become normal again, and apply all
+his faculties to his profession. I know you are too clever not to appreciate
+just everything involved, and too generous not to give the young man his best
+chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he cleared his throat, stroked his moustache, and waited, wondering a
+little why she did not speak. He squared his shoulders again, and glanced round
+to catch a reflection of himself in the overmantel, then once more stroked his
+moustache with a sleek air of growing satisfaction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had certainly been a most ticklish undertaking, and but for his diplomacy,
+he believed one foredoomed to failure. But of course Lorraine was a woman of
+the world, with a larger mixture of the other kind of womanliness, perhaps,
+than was usual, and he in his perspicacity had deftly appealed to both.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Lorraine turned round, and at the first glimpse of her face his own fell,
+and suddenly he seemed to be shrinking visibly; as if he would not ungladly
+have vanished through the floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She took a step or two forward, and stood in front of him with her head held
+high, and those same scorching fires in her eyes; and there was something
+almost over-awing in the taut intensity of her whole attitude, mental and
+physical.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, in a cold, firm voice. &ldquo;You may not go back
+and tell Alymer&rsquo;s mother that I agree to cease my friendship with him for
+you and for her. You may go back and tell her that because when I was young you
+had no thought of my future, and no consideration for my youth, I refuse
+absolutely to parley in the matter at all. I shall not change my course of
+action by one iota. I shall not take any single thought for the future. The
+future may take care of itself. If you can estrange Alymer from me, that is
+your affair. Rather than estrange him myself, I will bind him closer. That is
+my answer to you, and to the <i>lady</i>,&rdquo; with fine scorn, &ldquo;who
+sat down yesterday and penned that unheard-of letter to a fellow-woman she knew
+nothing whatever against. Yet I think I could have charged that to her evident
+ignorance concerning theatrical matters, and forgiven her, if a monstrous irony
+had not sent you to plead her cause&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Lorraine,&rdquo; he interposed, but she stopped him with an
+imperious gesture and continued:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is nothing for you to say, nothing that I am in the least likely
+to listen to. You have evidently misunderstood my character from first to last.
+Probably you even credited me with wantonness in those far-off days when I was
+fool enough to believe all you swore to me of love and devotion. However that
+may be, you tried to set my feet in the wrong path, and when it suited you,
+gave me a push that further evil might conveniently widen the breach between
+us. Probably you have done much the same again since, and with as little
+compunction. What I have to say to you now is just this, once again. Your
+mission today is not merely useless; it has considerably aggravated any danger
+there may have been. Because of every girl a middle-aged man has treated as you
+sought to treat me I shall hold Alymer to his friendship if I can, and use any
+influence I may have to increase rather than decrease his visits.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It may be fiendish of me. I don&rsquo;t know. I am no angel; not even
+the obliging soft-hearted fool you and Alymer&rsquo;s mother seem to have
+concluded I might be. And what is more, if I had a vein of kindliness and
+unselfish consideration, you have done your utmost to stamp it out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most of us are half good, and half bad. Today, you have given the devil
+in me an impetus such as it has seldom had before. That is your affair. Go back
+and explain the real truth if you dare. Tell Mrs. Hermon you found the low
+adventuress a devil, and one that you yourself had tried to help to make. Tell
+her&rdquo;&mdash;again with that low, unpleasant laugh&mdash;&ldquo;that you
+fear the worst for Alymer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is all. Now you can go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once more he futilely tried to speak, but she only waved him aside, and walked
+with a haughty, scornful step ahead of him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jean,&rdquo; she called to her maid, as she passed through the little
+hall, &ldquo;Will you open the door for this gentleman?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In her own room, she slid down into a large cushioned chair and sobbed her
+heart out.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was there Hal found her. By the merest chance she had run up to the flat at
+her midday hour, to ask a question about Sir Edwin Crathie, and a rumour
+concerning him that she felt an imperative need to have answered. When she saw
+Lorraine in tears the question was instantly banished for the moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had Lorraine been in her normal condition, she could hardly have failed to
+notice that the &ldquo;Hal&rdquo; who came up in haste to ask this urgent
+question was not the &ldquo;Hal&rdquo; of a few months, a few weeks ago. She
+would probably have observed that the vague, indefinable change Alymer had seen
+in her had grown more marked and more defined.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She seemed to have sprung suddenly into womanhood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was no light-hearted, careless, rather boisterous girl who appeared
+unexpectedly at the flat, to give her one or two eager hugs, tell her the
+latest news of her doings in gay, gossipy fashion, and eat an unconscionable
+amount of chocolates, usually kept for her special delectation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old, bright look was there on the surface, the ready, laughing speech, but
+there was also, with it, something that approached a dignified phase, and
+suggested a new reserve. She was also distinctly better-looking likewise, in
+some vague, incomprehensible way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Lorraine had not time to take any note of the change, for all her faculties
+were bent upon shielding herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course it was useless to hide that she had been crying, but at least Hal
+must not know that the crying had been soul-racking sobs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a look of consternation and dismay she, Hal, was across the room in a
+bound, kneeling beside the big chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear old girl, what in the world is the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine contrived to smile with some appearance of reality, as she dried her
+eyes, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t quite know. It&rsquo;s idiotic of me, isn&rsquo;t it? If
+you hadn&rsquo;t come and stopped me, I should never have been able to appear
+tonight for swollen eyes.&rdquo; But Hal was not so easily put off. She
+grasped both Lorraine&rsquo;s hands in hers and said resolutely:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why are you crying, Lorry?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Feeling it hopeless to avoid some sort of a reason, she replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had a letter this morning that upset me rather. It is silly of me to
+take any notice, and I shouldn&rsquo;t if I were well. I&rsquo;ve been
+wretchedly nervy lately, and it makes me silly about things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was the letter about?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, only some one who is jealous, I suppose; trying to get a little
+satisfaction out of saying a few things that may hurt me. It is so silly of me
+to mind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s mind immediately flew to Mrs. Vivian, and instead of inquiring any
+further she just said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor old Lorry,&rdquo; and kissed her affectionately.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then with a little laugh:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose you weren&rsquo;t going to have any lunch at all, but
+I&rsquo;m frightfully hungry. I hope to goodness there is something in the
+house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Run and tell Jean to see cook about it, there&rsquo;s a dear. I must
+bathe my eyes and try to look presentable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While they lunched Hal chatted of many things, but she noted that Lorraine was
+looking thin, and seemed to have something on her mind, while she made no
+attempt to eat what was placed on her plate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When she was pulling her gloves on later she asked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you take a week&rsquo;s holiday and go into the country,
+Lorry?… It is no use going on until you are ill, as you did before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I must ask about it. I feel as if one week would do me a world
+of good. How is Sir Edwin? Have you seen him lately?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We played golf on Saturday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A white look came suddenly into Hal&rsquo;s face, and she riveted her attention
+on an apparently tiresome fastener as she asked, with the greatest show of
+unconcern she could muster, the question that brought her there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you heard a rumour that he is going to marry Miss Bootes?&rdquo;
+naming one of the richest heiresses of the day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I hadn&rsquo;t heard it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine gave a quick glance at her face, but saw only the look of
+concentration on the fractious fastener.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; Hal said in level tones, &ldquo;I suppose she is worth
+about half a million, and I don&rsquo;t think he is rich.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably he has only been seen speaking to her, or taking her to supper
+at a big reception. That would be quite enough to make some people link them
+at once, and fix the date of the wedding.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a bun-fight at the Bruces&rsquo; tonight,&rdquo; Hal ran
+on, &ldquo;with Llaney to play the violin, and Lascelles to sing&mdash;quite an
+elaborate affair: so it is sure to be very boring; but I suppose Alymer will
+be there, looking adorably beautiful, and all the women gazing at him. It will
+be entertaining to chaff him, anyhow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, don&rsquo;t tell him you found me weeping,&rdquo; with a little
+laugh. &ldquo;He might not realise it was only nerves.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell him he&rsquo;s to take you away for a week&rsquo;s
+holiday,&rdquo; Hal replied lightly. &ldquo;Goodness knows, you&rsquo;ve done
+enough for him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went back to the office and settled down to her work with resolute
+determination, but any one who knew her well would have seen that some cloud
+seemed to have descended upon her, and that all the time she stuck to her work
+she was wrestling to appear normal, in the face of some enshrouding worry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Through all the letter she was writing, and over the proofs she read to aid the
+chief, there seemed to be one sentence dancing in letters of glee, like a
+war-dance executed by little black devils on the foolscap of her mind. It was
+last night she had heard it, that ominous piece of news that took her violently
+by surprise, in spite of her practical common sense. Some one had said it quite
+casually in the motor bus&mdash;one man to another, as an item of news of the
+day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They say Sir Edwin Crathie is to marry Miss Bootes the heiress.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What! The Right Honourable Sir Edwin Crathie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So they say. He&rsquo;s very heavily in debt, I believe&mdash;over
+some bad speculations&mdash;and an heiress is about the only thing to float
+him. Besides, the party wants rich men, and it would be a good move on his
+part.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was all, and then the two silk-hatted, frock-coated men had got out.
+Eminently well-to-do men&mdash;probably both stockbrokers, but men who looked
+as if they would know.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal had gone on home in a sudden torment of feeling. Of course he was free to
+marry the heiress if be wished, but why, if so, had he dared once again to drop
+the mask of companiable friendliness with her and grow lover-like? The change
+had been coming slowly of late, wrought with infinite caution and care. He had
+not meant to frighten her again, and find himself in disgrace, so he had taken
+each step very leisurely, and made sure of his ground before trusting himself
+upon it. The next time he kissed her, he had determined she should like it too
+well to resent his action.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the safe moment, as he deemed it, had come the previous Saturday after a
+delightful afternoon at golf. They had motored down to the Sundridge Park
+Links, and stayed afterwards to dine at the club-house, then back to
+Bloomsbury, and into the pretty sitting-room, where Dudley was not likely to
+appear until late, because he had gone to a theatre with Doris.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then for the second time he had kissed her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But this was quite a different kiss. It was a climax to one of the best days he
+had ever had&mdash;a day in which, besides playing golf, they had talked of
+State secrets and State affairs. He had paid her the compliment of talking to
+her as if she were a man, and Hal, being exceptionally well informed on most
+questions of the day, was able to hold her own with him, and to make the
+conversation of genuine interest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And his quick, observant brain greatly admired her power of argument, and her
+woman&rsquo;s directness of method, confirming the view that while a man
+usually indulges in a good deal of preamble, with many doubts and side-lights,
+a woman trusts to her instinct and arrives at the same conclusion in half the
+time. Of late, too, he had talked to her of interesting modern problems; and
+what had been frivolous in their earlier friendship had solidified into a real
+companionship.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now as he stood on the hearth with his back to the fire, looking with
+rather critical eyes round the pretty room that Hal had contrived to rob of
+nearly all its lodging-house aspect, she stood quite naturally and
+unconcernedly beside him drawing off her gloves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a good game,&rdquo; she was saying, &ldquo;if you had not messed
+up that sixth hole. It&rsquo;s a brute, isn&rsquo;t it. I was lucky to escape
+that marshy bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are getting too good for me. Your drives out-classed mine nearly
+every time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I can&rsquo;t approach. I never, never, shall be able to hit a ball
+just far enough. If I loft on to the green at all it is always the far side,
+with a roll.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll soon master that. A little more practice, and you&rsquo;ll
+be in form for matches. I think we&rsquo;ll have to go away somewhere and have
+a fortnight&rsquo;s golfing! Why not to some little French place? You would
+finish up a first-class player.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal laughed lightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just imagine Brother Dudley&rsquo;s face when I told him I was going to
+France for a fortnight with you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You wouldn&rsquo;t have to tell him anything about me,&rdquo; watching
+her with a sudden keenness in his eyes. &ldquo;I should have to be personated
+by Miss Vivian or some one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I dare say Lorry would come for the matter of that. We might teach
+her to play too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I hardly meant she should actually be there,&rdquo; he went on in
+a meaning voice. &ldquo;She&rsquo;d be rather in the way, wouldn&rsquo;t she? I
+don&rsquo;t know that I could do with any one else but you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stepped closer to her, and slipped his arm round her shoulders. &ldquo;A
+third person will always be in the way when I am with you, Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She changed colour, and breathed fitfully, moving as if to disengage herself
+from his arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, don&rsquo;t go. This is very harmless, and I&rsquo;ve been
+exceedingly good for a long time, now, haven&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the greater pity to spoil your record,&rdquo; putting up her hand to
+remove his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he only clasped her fingers tightly, and drew her closer, till he could
+feel her heart palpitating a little wildly; and that gave him courage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has been far harder than you have the remotest idea of. I deserve one
+kiss, if only by way of encouragement.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His face was close to hers now, and with a little murmuring sound of gladness
+he kissed her cheek.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little woman,&rdquo; he murmured, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve grown desperately
+fond of you. I hardly know how to do without you. Be a sensible little girl,
+won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She disengaged herself resolutely then, but she was not angry, and her eyes
+were shining.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are transgressing flagrantly&mdash;as I should express it in a
+newspaper report. Collect your forces, and retire gracefully, O
+transgressor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I really must go now. It&rsquo;s been such a splendid day,
+hasn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He seemed to speak with a shadow of regret; and there was a shadow of regret in
+his eyes also as he riveted them on her face. Then he turned suddenly and
+picked up his cap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;the best of friends must part&mdash;and the best of days come
+to an end. Good-bye, little girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With his cap in his hand, he suddenly put both his arms round her and kissed
+her with the old passionate eagerness&mdash;then he loosed her and turned to
+the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m in love with you, Hal&mdash;head over ears in love; but
+it&rsquo;s a devilish hard world, and Heaven only knows what&rsquo;s to come of
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With which enigmatical sentence he let himself out and departed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he had gone Hal stood quite still where he had left her, and looked into
+vacancy. About her lips there was the ghost of a smile. In her ears was only
+the recollection of the words, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m head over ears in love with
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So, it was coming at last&mdash;the great, glad day of love and fulfilment. If
+he had set out to trifle with her at first, at least he was serious enough now.
+She, too, had only trifled in the beginning, seizing a little fun and adventure
+in her workaday world. There had been no reason to suppose it need hurt any
+one. Now, she, too, was serious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps the things detrimental to him that she had heard previously had some
+truth in them then, but he was changed now. Love had changed him. He was like
+another man. She had seen and felt it in a thousand ways that could not be
+translated into speech or writing. It was just that he was different, and in
+every particular it was to his advantage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was different too. She did not resent the kiss, because she knew that he
+honestly cared for her. And she knew, too, that she honestly cared for him. The
+end of the enigmatical sentence rankled a little, but she did not led herself
+dwell upon it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She chose instead to remember how he had kissed her; and that he had confessed
+he was head over ears in love with her. Which only showed that Hal&mdash;for
+all her worldly wisdom and practical common sense&mdash;could be as blind and
+as romantic as anyone when her heart was touched, and her pulses romping
+feverishly at a memory that thrilled all her being.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Three days later she had heard the conversation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course it was absurd&mdash;manifestly so&mdash;and yet, and yet&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a miserable twenty-four hours of fighting against her own uneasiness, she
+paid the flying visit to Lorraine, to see if she could glean any light on the
+gossip from her, only to return to the office baffled and tormented.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the enigmatical sentence that pressed forward now, instead of the
+thrilling confession that he loved her. Was it possible he was indeed so base
+as to love her and tell her in the very same week that he had asked another
+woman to be his wife?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And if so, what had prompted him? What was in his mind? Why had he not left
+things as they were, and refrained both from the kiss and the confession?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then above her tortured feelings rose the triumphant thought, goading and
+pleasing at the same time: &ldquo;Whether it is true or not, he loves
+<i>me</i>&mdash;not her, the heiress, but me&mdash;Hal Pritchard&mdash;the
+peniless City worker.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2>
+
+<p>
+In the evening came the party at Dick Bruce&rsquo;s home, and it was necessary,
+she knew, to thrust all recollection of Sir Edwin aside, in order to give rise
+to no questioning and appear as usual.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So she dressed herself with special care, rubbed a pink tinge on to her white
+cheeks, bathed and refreshed eyes dulled by worry and shadows, and made her
+appearance, looking, if anything, a little more radiant than usual.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove! you look stunning, Hal,&rdquo; was her jovial uncle&rsquo;s
+warm greeting. &ldquo;Who&rsquo;d ever have thought, to see the ugly little imp
+of a small child you were, that you would grow up into a fashionable, striking
+woman? I congratulate you. When&rsquo;s the happy man coming along?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When I&rsquo;m tired of enjoying of myself,&rdquo; she laughed,
+&ldquo;and feel equal to coping with anything as trying as a husband. At
+present a brother keeps me quite sufficiently occupied,&rdquo; and she passed
+on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Across the large, well-lit room, towering above every one around him, she saw
+the head and shoulders of Alymer Hermon. All about her, as she moved towards
+him, she heard the low-voiced query: &ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No society beauty at her zenith could have caused greater interest. He was
+looking grave, too, and thoughtful, which suited him better than laughter,
+giving him something of a look apart, and banishing all suggestion of the
+conceit and self-satisfaction that would have spoilt him. Then he caught sight
+of Hal, and instantly all his face lit up, and a twinkle shone in his eyes as
+he edged towards her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How late you are! I thought you were never coming. Did your hair require
+an extra half-hour? I suppose you&rsquo;ve been tearing it out by the roots
+over your faithless swain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean, and anyhow I shouldn&rsquo;t be such a
+fool as to tear my own hair out by the roots for any one. If hair is coming out
+in that fashion, it shall be his roots.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come and sit down. I&rsquo;ll soon find you a chair.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the good of that? We can&rsquo;t converse unless you sit on
+the floor. I work too hard to spend my evening shouting banalities at the
+ceiling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s hunt for a couch; there are plenty here on ordinary
+occasions. Isn&rsquo;t it a poser where all the furniture goes to at a
+&lsquo;beano&rsquo; like this! There&rsquo;s nothing in the hall, nor in the
+dining-room; and there doesn&rsquo;t seem to be much here. Let&rsquo;s make
+for the lounge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I can&rsquo;t take you away. I shall get my face scratched. You were
+made to be looked at, and half these silly people are staring their eyes out in
+your direction. I don&rsquo;t know how you put up with it so serenely. I should
+want to bite them all. If I were a man, and had been burdened with an
+appearance like yours, I should want to hit Life in the face for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be silly. What does it matter? It pleases them, and it
+doesn&rsquo;t hurt me. I get my own back a little anyway... when I want
+to&rdquo;&mdash;with a low, significant laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh of course lots of women are in love with you,&rdquo;&mdash;with a
+contemptuous sniff; &ldquo;but if I were a man I wouldn&rsquo;t give tuppence
+for the woman who made me a present of her affections. You miss all the fun of
+the chase, and the victory. It must be deadly dull.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what Lorraine has sometimes said; but what can I do? Shall
+I paint my face black?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;ve seen you look black enough, but it&rsquo;s rather
+becoming than otherwise. Anyhow, it isn&rsquo;t insipid. But you&rsquo;ve grown
+quite manly lately, I suppose. I hear about you occasionally positively working
+hard. Heavens!&mdash;what you owe to Lorraine!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do,&rdquo; fervently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why in the world don&rsquo;t you look after her a bit? I turned up
+unexpectedly at half-past one today, and found her sobbing her eyes
+out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You found Lorraine sobbing her eyes out...&rdquo; incredulously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did. She told me not to tell you, as it was only nerves&mdash;but of
+course it wasn&rsquo;t. You know as well as I that Lorraine doesn&rsquo;t
+suffer from weepy nerves. It&rsquo;s worry again; and she is looking thoroughly
+ill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why again?...&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was looking grave enough now, and there was anxiety in his voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, because there&rsquo;s often something to worry her&mdash;either her
+mother, or her memories, or the future. I suppose you haven&rsquo;t bothered to
+go and see her lately to cheer her up? Been too busy with your briefs!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was there yesterday, to inquire how she was after a bad sick headache.
+The room was all violets and snow-drops&rdquo;; and his eyes grew soft.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And did she sight of her robust health knock you backwards?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was irritable from the strain on her own nerves, and it pleased her to hurl
+sarcasms at him, feeling somehow angry at his calm, smoothly-flowing path to
+success.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought she looked ill, and I advised her to go away for a
+week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was kind of you. And why won&rsquo;t she take your safe
+advice?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She won&rsquo;t go alone, and she said there was no one to go with
+her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Too many briefs, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What have my briefs to do with it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nothing. She&rsquo;s given hours and hours to you and your future;
+but of course you couldn&rsquo;t risk sparing a week&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But!...&rdquo; he began with raised eyebrows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t &lsquo;but&rsquo; in that inane fashion. If you say it
+isn&rsquo;t proper I shall scream. Lorraine is nearly old enough to be your
+mother, and she has far too much sense to be in love with you; and you
+wouldn&rsquo;t be so idiotic as to imagine it any use for you to be in love
+with her. Therefore it&rsquo;s only a companion she wants to keep her from
+moping and dwelling on sad thoughts; and you seem to be able to do
+that&mdash;as well as any of us; so why can&rsquo;t you get another man, or boy
+if you prefer it, to go for a run into the country with you? Flip would take
+her by the next train if he were there. He wouldn&rsquo;t care a farthing for
+scandalmongers. But I suppose he can do that sort of thing because he&rsquo;s a
+man. And, anyhow, I don&rsquo;t suppose she would go with you, even with a
+third person. She might think a whole week of you too much of a good
+thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His face has grown still more thoughtful, and he paid small heed to her taunts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine sobbing, Lorraine ailing, Lorraine unhappy, filled his mind. What
+could have happened to upset her so? True, she had not been looking well for
+some weeks, and had complained of headaches and weariness; but he felt sure
+something quie apart had transpired to upset her so thoroughly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Neither did he think it was Hal&rsquo;s version of the usual worries. He
+greatly feared his own people had made some move of which he was in ignorance.
+He contemplated with deep vexation the probability that he himself was
+indirectly the cause of her new trouble, and he mentally decided then and there
+to go to considerable lengths, if she wished it, on her behalf.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Probably if he travelled down to some seaside place and saw her comfortably
+settled, and later on ran down to fetch her, she would be more easily induced
+to go. At any rate he would call the very next day and see, if his proposition
+simplified matters at all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal watched him a little impatiently, and at length remarked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You seem to be thinking rather hard. Are you meditating upon
+Lorraine&rsquo;s trouble, or my suggestion, that it is unlikely she could
+endure a whole week of you, unadulterated?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Both,&rdquo; with a humorous glance at her. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m thinking it
+would be interesting to find out the truth in both cases.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you won&rsquo;t do that. Lorraine never tells her troubles. Not
+even to me. And she&rsquo;s too tender-hearted to hurt your feelings on the
+other question.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not afraid of that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His face grew a little brighter, and, as if satisfied with the result of his
+cogitations, he changed the subject.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s making you so ratty tonight? Is it the faithless
+swain?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps you haven&rsquo;t seen the evening paper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;m sick to death of papers by six
+o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you oughtn&rsquo;t to have missed it tonight, and then
+you&rsquo;d have had the pleasure of seeing the announcement of the faithless
+swain&rsquo;s engagement to the rich heiress.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal bit her lip suddenly, and felt her blood run cold, but she kept her outward
+composure perfectly, and merely commented:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you mean about Sir Edwin Crathie and Miss Bootes!… that&rsquo;s very
+old news.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it was only in the paper tonight anyhow; and only given as a
+rumour then. I was going to ask you if it is true. They say he&rsquo;s in the
+dickens of a mess for money. But of course you know all about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was enjoying himself now, feeling that he was getting a little of his own
+back, and it made him unconsciously merciless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It must have been rather a trying moment when you had to break to him
+that you couldn&rsquo;t possibly pay any of his debts, and that therefore you
+must part?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about his debts. They don&rsquo;t interest
+me. I can beat him at golf, playing level, and that&rsquo;s far more to the
+point.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you are going to play golf with him, while Miss Bootes bears his
+proud name in return for paying his debts! Sure, it sounds a nice handy
+arrangement for him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Hal got up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to <i>talk</i> to you, because you are talking such
+drivel; and I don&rsquo;t want to <i>look</i> at you, because your pink and
+white and blue and gold irritate me beyond words, so you&rsquo;d better go and
+stand in the middle of the room for the benefit of those who delight to gaze;
+and I&rsquo;ll go in search of a refreshingly ugly person who can talk
+sense!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon gave a low chuckle of enjoyment, and continued to chuckle to himself
+until she was lost to sight and his hostess was introducing some charming
+débutante to him. The débutante was pink and white and blue and gold likewise,
+and gazed up at him adorably under long curling lashes; but he might have
+expressed a fellow-feeling with Hal, for he found himself merely bored, and
+longed to go in search, not of a refreshingly ugly person, but of the
+refreshingly irritable, snappy, unappreciative one who had just left him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When at last he was free, however, he found Hal had complained of a headache
+and gone home early, unattended.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2>
+
+<p>
+On her way home Hal stopped the taxi and bought an evening paper. When she got
+it, however, she found Dudley there, so she merely held it under her cloak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are back early,&rdquo; he said, in a surprised voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. It was very formal and very dull, and I was tired.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced up with questioning eyes. It was something new for Hal not to stay
+untill the last moment at a festivity. He thought she looked a little paler
+than usual, and there were shadows about her eyes, but she interrupted any
+comment he might make by an inquiry after Doris.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is very well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stopped short rather suddenly, and seemed thoughtful. He had been urging
+Doris to fix the date of their wedding, and let him see about taking a house or
+a flat, but she had seemed to avoid the subject lately, and he was a little
+troubled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose poor Basil is much the same?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He and Ethel were both asking what had become of you. They said you
+hadn&rsquo;t been up for a long time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t. I&rsquo;ll go tomorrow. Good-night,&rdquo; and she
+kissed him, and went upstairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In her own room she sat on the bed, and read the evening paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yes, it was there sure enough, but it was only given as a rumour. &ldquo;We
+understand there is a rumour…&rdquo; How well she knew the phrase, with its
+dangerous suggestiveness, and safe retreat. She wondered who had started the
+rumour, and how the paper had got it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, again, insistently she asserted it could not be true. If it had not been
+for last Saturday she might have believed it. But after that… no, he could not
+be so base. She put the thought away from her, and tried to sleep, but her eyes
+would look out into the blackness, and her brain ask questions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What if it were true?&rdquo; She clenched her hands and fought the
+question. It could not be true; why worry? Yet he had never made the slightest
+suggestion of marrying her. She remembered that, but scorned it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why should he? There had been nothing lover-like between them until the
+previous Saturday; and of course had there been any one else, it would have
+been so easy to go on the same and make no change that particular afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finding what comfort she could out of these thoughts, she fell at last into a
+troubled sleep.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The following afternoon, in fulfilment of her promise, she went up to Holloway
+from the office. Doris was out, and Ethel not home yet, but the door was opened
+to her by a gaunt stranger, who said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in. This is one of my days. I&rsquo;m in charge this
+afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked into the angular face, which appeared to her as if it had been
+roughly hewn with a chisel, by some one who was a mere amateur, and she could
+not repress a little smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;ve met you before. Are you&mdash;are
+you&mdash;a friend of Mr. Hayward&rsquo;s?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he&rsquo;s a friend of mine, if that will do as well. I&rsquo;m
+generally know here as G. The letter isn&rsquo;t stamped on my face, but
+it&rsquo;s on the door of my flat, and that&rsquo;s much the same.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stood aside for Hal to pass down the passage, adding grimly as Hal
+loitered, with rather an amused, engaging expression:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t stand for much more than a door, with a G on it, as I
+often tell Mr. Hayward, but I suppose it&rsquo;s all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A little more occasionally,&rdquo; suggested Hal. &ldquo;A door
+wouldn&rsquo;t be much use to Mr. Hayward, anyhow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what he says. Won&rsquo;t you go down to his room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you going to do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Get the tea. It&rsquo;s one of the few things I can do passably
+well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me come and help. It won&rsquo;t take long. I&rsquo;m interested in
+that door. You see, I&rsquo;m not even G; and I don&rsquo;t possess a front
+door.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The music-teacher looked searchingly into her face, and was evidently pleased
+with what she saw, for she adopted a friendly note, and seemed ready to chat.
+Hal followed her into the little kitchen, and commenced to take off her hat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m an old friend,&rdquo; she volunteered, &ldquo;and I often
+leave my hat in here. Are both Mr. Hayward&rsquo;s sisters out?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Hayward will be late tonight, and her sister is uncertain. It
+depends somewhat upon which young man she is out with,&rdquo; in acid tones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal glanced up in astonishment, but her companion was busy with the cups and
+saucers, and did not notice the look.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All I can say is, I&rsquo;m sorry for that nice gentleman who is fool
+enough to think of marrying her. Lord! he&rsquo;d be safer with some one with a
+face like a door-knocker, such as mine. But there, they&rsquo;re all the same;
+and the nicest of them are generally the biggest fools.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal grasped the situation at once, and instead of enlightening her concerning
+her own identity, said casually:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s another young man as well, is there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is so. A pawnbroker I should take him to be, who wears the
+jewellery left in his care on his person for safety. As a matter of fact, I
+believe he is a South African millionaire. He brought her home one day, and
+Blakde&mdash;that&rsquo;s the housekeeper&rsquo;s husband down
+below&mdash;recognised him. He was out in South Africa in the war, and he saw
+him then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal drummed on the table with her fingers to assume nonchalance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does Miss Hayward know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Know? Of course she doesn&rsquo;t. How should she know, particularly if
+that artful monkey did not want her to? I don&rsquo;t know where the poor sick
+man would be now but for me. She&rsquo;s always off somewhere&mdash;that
+minx&mdash;and I rush back from my music pupils, because I can&rsquo;t rest for
+the thought of him here all alone. I&rsquo;ve given one up, who wanted a lesson
+at half-past four every day. That&rsquo;s the time he needs his tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you do all this for him?&rdquo; Hal found herself asking, a
+little unaccountably. &ldquo;He is nothing to you, is he&mdash;no relation, I
+mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing to me!… Oh, isn&rsquo;t he though! I&rsquo;d like to know what
+is anything, if he&rsquo;s nothing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She rattled the cups and saucers a little restlessly, and Hal, with growing
+interest, waited for her to go on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Before I knew him, I was nothing in the world but a door with a letter
+on it, as I&rsquo;ve just told you. That&rsquo;s all I stood for, a mere letter
+of the alphabet who paid a monthly rent. I told him so, when I first came
+across, and he said, &lsquo;Well, I&rsquo;m very glad they didn&rsquo;t leave G
+out of the alphabet.&rsquo; That&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m his slave now. Nobody cared whether there was a G or not
+before. It isn&rsquo;t pleasant to feel you&rsquo;re a mere cypher, with no
+particular meaning to any one; just shot in haphazard to fill up a
+blank&mdash;a mere creature, useful to teach exercises and scales to odious
+children one only longs to slap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fancy being expected to keep yourself alive in a dingy little flat, for
+ever alone, just to do that!&rdquo; The cups rattled more restively still.
+&ldquo;I say, the universe is the grimmest jester there ever was. Me to teach
+music to keep life in a body that doesn&rsquo;t want it! If I&rsquo;d been
+employed laying out corpses in their grave-clothes there&rsquo;d have been some
+sense in it. I&rsquo;m not much more that a figurehead of an old hulk myself.
+But music!… music!… Oh Lord, and I haven&rsquo;t one real note of it in my
+whole composition.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal seated herself on the table. With her quick intuition she perceived at once
+entertainment of an original kind was before her, and she promptly laid herself
+out to obtain all she could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you teach music? I don&rsquo;t think you do quite suggest a
+musician?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The gaunt spinster was cutting some bread-and-butter now with a savage air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do I suggest anything, except perhaps a butcher or an undertaker? Yet I
+can only keep myself alive with music. That&rsquo;s the jest of the Arch
+Humorist. My father was a clergyman. He droned out services for fifty years in
+a hamlet, with a little square church like a wooden money-box. I was taught
+music so that I could&mdash;well&mdash;make the tin-pot organ groan, I used to
+call it. I had twenty-five years of that, with never a break. I got so that, to
+keep myself from turning into a stone gargoyle on the organ seat, I must have
+my little jest too.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One way I had it was by making the organ groan dismallest at weddings
+and christenings, and squeak hilariously at funerals. Father never noticed,
+he&rsquo;d already turned gargoyle, you see, and as for the village people!
+well, it suited them, because they always wept at weddings, and overate
+themselves at funerals.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then?…&rdquo; Hal was so thoroughly enjoying herself now, she had
+almost forgotten the invalid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then the gargoyle died, or ran down, or something. I should think
+he got tired of sing-song the tender mercies of God to the devout people, and
+His judgments on the wicked. It always seemed to me the good folks got the
+nastiest knocks; and the wicked, well, they fairly left the green bay tree
+behind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyhow, I&rsquo;d been devout enough, as far as sinning goes, for forty
+years. I wasn&rsquo;t even blessed with the chance to be anything else. Then a
+new parson came, an underdone young man with new fal-da-dal ideas. I wonder how
+soon <i>he&rsquo;d</i> become a gargoyle? I defy him to stand out long against
+the cast-iron nonentity of that village. But he didn&rsquo;t take kindly either
+to me or my music. Hadn&rsquo;t any sense of humour at all. I don&rsquo;t know
+what I ever knew a clergyman who had. Perhaps a man couldn&rsquo;t very well go
+on being a clergyman if he possessed such a trait.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyhow, this particular one did not think I put enough expression into
+the tunes. He said they hardly sounded like sacred tunes at all; which
+wasn&rsquo;t surprising, when you come to think that sometimes a low note and
+sometimes a high note on that little tin-pot organ would take it into its head
+to stick, and would either boom or squeak all through the thing I was
+playing.&rdquo; Hal burst out laughing, quite unable to contain herself any
+longer, but the spinster went on calmly: &ldquo;The tune might just as well
+have been &lsquo;Down by the Old Bull and Bush&rsquo; then, but it wasn&rsquo;t
+my fault, because when your hands and arms and feet and eyes and ears are all
+struggling to keep time with a village choir that varies its pace every few
+bars, you&rsquo;ve got nothing left to release a stuck note with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you didn&rsquo;t tell the under-done young parson about
+&lsquo;The Old Bull and Bush&rsquo;?&rdquo; said Hal, still rocking with
+enjoyment and bent chiefly upon leading her on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d never heard of it then, or I might have. Even that won&rsquo;t
+reach the village I&rsquo;m thinking of for a hundred years; and then
+they&rsquo;ll play it until the very birds lose heart, and think they are
+uncannily up to date. So they are if you count it when things come round the
+second time. I told him if the organ seemed to be playing &lsquo;Yankee
+Doodle,&rsquo; I supposed it was because it felt like it; as, for twenty-five
+years, it had more or less pleased itself at my expense.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he&rsquo;ll be a gargoyle soon, and then he won&rsquo;t notice, and
+it will boom and squaek to its heart&rsquo;s content. Of course I ought to have
+stayed on because I matched it all, and I didn&rsquo;t mind the booming and
+squeaking as long as the choir didn&rsquo;t get convulsed, and stop
+altogether&mdash;because that was liable to catch father&rsquo;s attention. A
+gargoyle is out of place in London. It&rsquo;s as mad for me to be here as that
+I&rsquo;m here to teach music. After I became fossilised I ought to have stayed
+on till I died, and then that self-willed organ could have fairly squeaked
+itself out over my corpse. Come along and have some tea now. Poor Mr. Hayward
+will be getting faint.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&rsquo;re too perfectly delicious for anything!&rdquo; Hal cried,
+springing off the table. &ldquo;Why haven&rsquo;t I known you for years? Why
+haven&rsquo;t I known you all my life? You must meet my cousin Dick Bruce. You
+absolutely <i>must</i>, with the least possible delay. He&rsquo;ll simply dote
+on you. Come along to Basil, and tell me heaps and heaps more&rdquo;; and she
+caught her by the arm in the friendliest fashion, and half-pulled her along to
+the little sitting-room.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a gossip you two have been having!&rdquo; Basil said, and, seeing
+the laughter in Hal&rsquo;s eyes, he added, &ldquo;has G been telling you some
+of her amazing theories, or tearing the existing order of the universe to
+shreds?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t know, but she&rsquo;s simply immense. Have you heard
+about the tin-pot organ that will play its own way, and the choir that gets
+convulsed, and the underdone young parson? She&rsquo;s simply got to know Dick.
+He wouldn&rsquo;t miss it for the world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I&rsquo;ve heard most of it. She plays an organ of laughter for me
+nowadays, that makes me bless the day she was born.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The gaunt spinster positively blushed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s just your way,&rdquo; she snapped, bashfully trying to
+hide her pleasure. &ldquo;If I hadn&rsquo;t been G, a pretty, charming young
+woman with real music in her might have been, and you&rsquo;d have liked that
+much better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I shouldn&rsquo;t. She&rsquo;d have played &lsquo;Home, Sweet
+Home,&rsquo; with variations, and &lsquo;The Maiden&rsquo;s
+Prayer&rsquo;&mdash;I know her at a glance. If you do only play scales and
+exercises I&rsquo;m sure you manage to put a lot of character into them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s only thumping; and who wants thumping?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do, when it&rsquo;s the universe. I&rsquo;m just as much askew with it
+as you are, only I haven&rsquo;t got the wit to thump it so satisfactorily. You
+are going it for the two of us now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, you&rsquo;re not a gargoyle…&rdquo; with a queer twist of her
+face that delighted Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall positively take you to Dick myself,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;or
+bring him here to you. He&rsquo;ll talk to you about a mother&rsquo;s patience,
+and babies; and you&rsquo;ll talk to him about gargoyles and organs, and Heaven
+only knows where you&rsquo;ll both get to; but I wouldn&rsquo;t miss it for
+anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know who Dick may be, but if he talks to me about mothers
+and babies&rdquo;&mdash;grimly&mdash;&ldquo;I shall groan like that organ
+did at christenings. They may be useful in the general scheme, but beyond that
+I don&rsquo;t know how any one can put up with them at all; with their
+potsy-wotsy, and pucksie-ducksie, and general stickiness. It&rsquo;s quite
+enough for me that I have to knit stupid little socks for their silly little
+feet, for bread-and-butter. The most I can say for it is, that it&rsquo;s a
+more satisfactory plan than casting your bread on the waters, on the off-chance
+some kindly Elijah will butter it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where are the socks, G?&rdquo; Basil asked, looking round. &ldquo;I
+should like Hal to enjoy the edifying spectacle of your knitting babies&rsquo;
+socks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean that,&rdquo; interrupted Hal comically. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t believe it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the horrible truth,&rdquo; asserted the spinster, calmly
+going on with her tea&mdash;&ldquo;most of them go to little black whelps in
+the Antipodes. After all, it isn&rsquo;t any more incongruous than the
+music&mdash;is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you don&rsquo;t do it for the under-done young parson,
+surely?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Goodness gracious, no. What an idea! He wiped his hands of me long ago.
+The wildest stretch of imagination, you see, could not picture me ever looking
+like an angel; so he left me to my fate!&rdquo; And again the humorous twisted
+smile delighted her small audience.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you seen Splodgkins lately?&rdquo; Basil asked. &ldquo;You say all
+babies are sticky and objectionable; but you must admit that sticky imp down
+below is better than two-thirds of the other babies in the world shining with
+soap polish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So he is&rdquo;; and the grim face relaxed still further. &ldquo;He was
+sitting in my way on the stairs this morning, and as I could not get by, I
+said, &lsquo;Make room, please, Master Splodgkins; you don&rsquo;t own the
+universe.&rsquo; &lsquo;Eth oi doth,&rsquo; he lisped. &lsquo;Noime ain&rsquo;t
+thplodums. Damn th&rsquo; ooniverth.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was good to hear Basil&rsquo;s whole-hearted laughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We ought to have had him to tea,&rdquo; he said regretfully. &ldquo;He
+would have delighted Hal. He&rsquo;s two-and-a-half years
+old&rdquo;&mdash;turning to her&mdash;&ldquo;this remarkable person-age; and,
+like most gutter snipes, has developed as an ordinary child of four. He and G
+have debates occasionally. He wishes to be called D, because that is the letter
+on his front door, and &lsquo;Splodgkins&rsquo; hurts his dignity but
+he&rsquo;s so funny when he is indignant we can&rsquo;t resist teasing
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little wistful smile crept into the invalid&rsquo;s eyes. &ldquo;We have lots
+of fun in this dingy old barrack between us,&rdquo; he told Hal. &ldquo;We are
+rarely silly enough to be dull, with so many queer, interesting folks under the
+same roof.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal felt something like a sudden lump in her throat, but she smiled brightly as
+she looked from one to the other, feeling somehow the better for knowing such
+waifs of life and circumstance, who could yet baffle Fate&rsquo;s pitilessness
+with genuine laughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dick is writing a most weird and incomprehensible book on vegetables and
+babies. I&rsquo;m quite certain you could give him lots of ideas,&rdquo; she
+remarked to G.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;d better put Splodgkins in if he wants to make it sell,&rdquo;
+said she. &ldquo;Only they mightn&rsquo;t allow it at the libraries.
+Splodgkins&rsquo;s vocabulary is fortunately sometimes indistinguishable for
+his lisp.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Splodgkins couldn&rsquo;t be translated,&rdquo; put in Basil. &ldquo;He
+sometimes comes to tea with me and G; but he is almost too exhausting. I think
+he knows every bad word in the English language; but one has to forgive him
+because he always saves half his cake for his baby sister, and hurls violent
+abuse at any one who dares to disparage her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going?...&rdquo; as G got up. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure Miss
+Pritchard doesn&rsquo;t want you to leave us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Pritchard!...&rdquo; In a horrified voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind,&rdquo; said Hal quickly. &ldquo;It didn&rsquo;t
+matter.&rdquo; Then to Basil, in explanation: &ldquo;G said something about
+Doris&rsquo;s fiancé, not knowing I was his sister, but I quite forget what it
+was. Good-bye, G,&rdquo; holding out a frank hand. &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;re
+a delightful person, and I&rsquo;m just as glad as Basil that you weren&rsquo;t
+left out of the alphabet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A few minutes later Doris came in, looking flushed and stealthy, and the first
+thing Hal noticed was a loverly little diamond brooch she had not seen before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a darling brooch,&rdquo; she exclaimed, after their greeting.
+&ldquo;Did Dudley give you that? He might have shown it to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No...&rdquo; stammered Doris, turning red. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had it a
+long time. It&rsquo;s not real.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s a wonderful imitation, then&rdquo; said Hall a little
+drily&mdash;and remembered the man like a pawnbroker&rsquo;s shop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Ethel joined them, and Hal&rsquo;s quick eyes saw the still increasing
+anxiety, just as surely as she saw the increased furtiveness in Doris&rsquo;s
+side-long glances. And because of all that she felt for Ethel, she trust her
+own care into the background resolutely, and made the evening as gay as she
+could while she was there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only afterwards she went home through the lamp-lit darkness, feeling as if some
+vague shadow had descended silently upon her little world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What was this insistent, nameless fear at her own heart? Why was Lorraine
+weeping when she found her yesterday? Why was trouble steadily gathering on
+Ethel&rsquo;s face? What was this gossip about Doris?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The gloom of a foggy night added to her depression. Why, in the tube railway,
+did all these people about her look so white and tired and lifeless? Did they
+just go on in their niches, in the same way that the grotesque music-teacher
+had gone on in hers for all those monotonous years; only to become like an
+uncared-for, unwanted letter of the alphabet pushed in to fill up a blank in a
+big city at last?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Were they all gargoyles-fixed, rigid, joyless, carved things, fastened in their
+respective niches, not for ornament, or for use specially, but just because the
+general machine seemed to require them?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And if so&mdash;why?... why?... why?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was so easy to be joyous if one was made for it. Such a little would make
+every one gay, if they were fashioned accordingly. What could be the good of
+disfiguring a beautiful world with all these vacant, expressionless, hopeless
+masks?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal did not read poetry. She was perfectly frank about being utterly bored with
+it. When she had anything to say, she liked to say it straight out, she
+explained, without twisting it about to make it rhyme with something just
+shoved in to fill up the line; and she preferred other people to do the same.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, perhaps, at that particular moment, had she seen the lines:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire<br />
+To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,<br />
+Would not we shatter it to bits&mdash;and then<br />
+Remould it nearer to the Heart&rsquo;s Desire?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In her present mood she might have recognised also the stateliness and the
+beauty of a thought transcribed into verse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Or possibly she would have obstinately asserted there was no occasion to
+introduce the word Love at all&mdash;and it was no one&rsquo;s Heart&rsquo;s
+Desire she wanted, but just a common-sense, reasonable amount of pleasure for
+all, and a spring-cleaning of all the gloomy, wooden faces.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the sitting-room at Bloomsbury she threw her hat down on the sofa, and ran
+her fingers through her hair with an almost petulant air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I just feel tonight as if it was a rotten old world after all,&rdquo;
+she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley, sitting poring over some plans with a reading-lamp, looked up in mild
+surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what has made you feel all that?&mdash;not Basil, I&rsquo;m
+sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;s no occasion to be so very sure. I think it&rsquo;s
+decidedly rotten where Basil is concerned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She came and half-sat on one of the arms of his chair, and rested her hand on
+his coat-collar.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder what G would think of a sane man spending his evening ruling
+pointless-looking lines on a big sheet of paper?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who may &lsquo;G&rsquo; be?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know&mdash;except that she&rsquo;s the quaintest person
+I&rsquo;ve ever struck yet&mdash;and I&rsquo;ve seen some funny ones.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I know who you mean. Yes; she is an oddity. Well, how was every one.
+How was Doris?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know. She was not there when I arrived, and she did not come in
+until a few minutes before Ethel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder where she was?&rdquo; thoughtfully. &ldquo;I asked her to come
+for tea and a walk in the Park today, and she said she could not leave
+Basil.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked keenly into his face, and immediately he smiled and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose the tenant opposite was free unexpectedly, and Doris was able
+to get out after all. Poor little girl. I&rsquo;m glad. But I wonder she
+didn&rsquo;t telephone me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal turned away, feeling a little sick at heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Were they all then in the maelstrom of this gloomy sense of an engulfing cloud?
+What could be the meaning of Doris&rsquo;s behaviour? Did Dudley suspect
+anything? Certainly he had been a good deal preoccupied of late, and spoken
+very little of the future.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked out of her window across the blue of London lights, and her thoughts
+roved a little pitifully across the wide reaches of her own small world. From
+Sir Edwin, with his high post in the nation&rsquo;s councils, and Lorraine with
+her brilliant atmosphere of success and triumph, to the dingy block of flats in
+Holloway, where, in spite of almost tragic circumstances, to quote Basil, they
+had &ldquo;lots of fun&rdquo; among themselves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She believed he meant it, too. It was no empty phrase. Rather something in
+touch with Life&rsquo;s great scheme of compensations, which she manipulates in
+her own great way, beyond the comprehension of puny humans.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Certainly neither Sir Edwin nor Lorraine could boast of &ldquo;lots of
+fun.&rdquo; Rather, instead, much care and worry and brain-weary grappling with
+problems of modern succesful conditions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She wondered, with a still further sinking at heart, if perhaps the time had
+come when she would have to grapple too. Was it very likely, after their
+delightful friendship, and after that confession of his the previous Saturday,
+Sir Edwin was prepared tamely to give her up? In her heart, she knew him
+better.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet, if the rumour was not false, what else could result? Vaguely she felt
+it might be one of those problems of modern society, coming across the evenly
+flowing river of her life, to demand solution. Not the solution of the
+crowd&mdash;to follow a beaten track is rarely difficult&mdash;but her own
+individual solution, which might mean much warfare of spirit and weary
+heartache. The foregoing of an alluring pleasure she deeply longed to
+take&mdash;not for any reward nor any gain, but solely for the sake of the
+mysterious power abroad in the world which is called Good; and which demands of
+the Present Hour that it is ready to crucify itself and its deep desires for
+the sake of the Future.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2>
+
+<p>
+As the days of that new spring-time crept on, it appeared that the shadow
+descending upon Hal&rsquo;s little world had come to stay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Things happened with surprising quickness, and each happening was of that
+particular order which presents itself enshrouded in gloom, and, with a
+pitilessness which is almost wanton, refuses to allow one gleam of the
+sunshine, carefully wrapped up in its gloomy folds, to send a single glad ray
+of hope to those wrestling in its sinister grip.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One knows the sunshine may possibly be hidden there somewhere&mdash;sunshine
+always is hidden in each event somewhere&mdash;but what is the use of expecting
+it weeks or months or years hence, when it seems that one single ray now would
+be of more help than a whole sun in some vague, distant future?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+May it not be that in the development needed to fit the individual for the full
+and glad enjoyment of the sunshine to come, a ray of light would blur the film,
+and spoil the picture instead of producing one that is strong, clear and
+beautiful?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So, a dauntless belief in the sunshine to come, without a ray to promise it,
+may make for greater perfectness through steadfast courage than had one beam
+crept through to lessen the need for effort and for strong enduring.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet it was strange that the grim hand of destiny should strike at so many in
+that little world at the same time, and that its blows should be of that
+intimate nature which allows of no speech, even to one&rsquo;s dearest friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine knew that the rumour of Sir Edwin Crathie&rsquo;s engagement was an
+admitted fact; but she did not know how hard it hit Hal. She could only have
+learnt by accident, and, because of events in her own life, she was out of the
+line of such a discovery.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal knew that Lorraine, after a nervous breakdown, had gone somewhere into the
+country for a week or so, and that Alymer Hermon had run down later to see how
+she was getting on, and if he could do anything for her, but of the almost
+tragic circumstances that led up to his action she knew nothing, and imagined
+the merest generous attention.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She saw also the preoccupied, aged look growing on Dudley&rsquo;s face, and
+knew that the shadow was over him too.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel saw the change creeping over Basil as no one else saw it, and knew that
+not even the far future could shed a single gleam for her upon the darkness
+coming.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet&mdash;for life is oversad to dwell upon rayless darkness even in
+books&mdash;bright, enduring, beautiful sunshine was wrapped up in those black
+clouds to flood the little world with joy at the appointed hour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Lorraine&rsquo;s life that events moved first. After Hal left her, she
+spent a wretched, restless, brain-racking afternoon, and was only just able to
+struggle through her part at night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And afterwards she became suddenly sickened with the need to struggle. She was
+not extravagant by nature, and had saved enough money from her enormous
+salaries to live very comfortably if she chose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A nausea of the theatrical world and its incessant demands began to obsess her.
+She felt that from the first day she stood in a manager&rsquo;s office, seeking
+the chance to start, it had given her everything except happiness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Money, success, position, jewels, fine clothes, admirers, friends, adventures,
+gaieties&mdash;all these had come, if by slow degrees, but not one single gift
+had contained the kernel of happiness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Perhaps it was her own fault. Perhaps the trouble lay in the wrong start she
+had made and never been able to retrieve. But at least there was time to try
+another plan yet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally, feeling the nerve strain of recent events was seriously affecting her
+health, she decided to arrange a week&rsquo;s holiday to think the matter out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But then what of Alymer?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nothing had changed her mood since his uncle paid his ill-chosen visit. She did
+not actually intend to try to influence Alymer against his people, but she did
+intend that he should not change to her, nor pass out of her life, if she could
+help it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Because she, and she alone, had started him off on his promising career, she
+meant to be there to watch it for some time to come. Her influence might not
+any longer be actually needed. The devine fire to achieve had already lit into
+a steady flame in his soul, and her presence would make very little difference
+in future. He had tasted the sweets of success, and ambition would not let him
+reject all that the future might hold.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she must be there to see. In her lonely life he meant everything now. There
+was no need for him to think of marriage for years yet; and in the meantime she
+felt her claim upon him was as strong as any mother&rsquo;s fears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So she waited for his next visit, wondering much what would transpire if he had
+heard of his uncle&rsquo;s call.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As it happened, he had. In the interview he had sought with his aunt, to
+request her not to interfere in his affairs, the indignant lady hurled at him
+the story of the visit; or such garbled account of it as she had received from
+the participator himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was quite enough for Alymer&mdash;that and Hal&rsquo;s account of Lorraine
+in tears. He felt that his benefactress, his great friend, had been abominably
+insulted, and he hastened in all the warmth of his ardour to her side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was waiting for him in her low, favourite chair, and when he first saw
+her he could not suppress an exclamation to see how frail she seemed suddenly
+to have grown.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her skin of ivory whiteness, enhanced by the tinge of colour in her cheeks, and
+there were shadows round her eyes placed there by no cosmetic art.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All that was most chivalrous, most protective, most affectionate in his nature
+rose uppermost, and shone in his face as he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine, it is too feeble just to say I am sorry. I heve been cursing
+the blunder with all my heart ever since I knew.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was dear of you,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;but of course I knew that
+you would.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hoped so. I told myself over and over, you must know it had all
+happened without my knowledge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine had no mind to make light of the matter. She felt she would hold him
+better by simply leaving it alone, and letting his own feelings work on her
+side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew of course that his uncle had probably tried to injure her case; but
+then, Alymer was a man of the world, and she trusted him, knowing what he must
+about his uncle, to judge her kindly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But all this seemed to fade into nothingness when she saw the distress and the
+affection in his eyes&mdash;the anger that any one had dared to hurt her, and
+the eager wish to make amends. It made all her smouldering love leap up into
+flame, and the strength of the suddenly roused passion almost frightened her.
+She felt there was desperation in it, the desperation of the drowning man who
+catches at a straw, of the condemned man who seizes a last joy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quite unexpectedly a reckless, surging desire began to take possession of her
+soul. She had lost so much already; been hit so many times; missed so many
+things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A picture came back to her, with a new allurement. The picture of herself with
+a little one of her own, floating down the peacefully flowing river to some
+quiet haven, far removed from the glare of the footlights. Should she make a
+bold bid to win that much from the years that were left?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She sat quiet, looking into the heart of the fire while the thoughts coursed
+through her brain, and her long lashes hid from the man above her the glowing
+dreamlights in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he too pulled up a low chair and sat down, so that his head was more
+nearly on a level with hers, and still his eyes looked at her with that
+regretful, protecting expression.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must go away, Lorry,&rdquo; he said, using Hal&rsquo;s pet name;
+&ldquo;you are beginning to look thoroughly ill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t feel well, but I haven&rsquo;t the heart to go alone. I
+should only get melancholia.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal seemed to think I ought to offer you a little companionship.&rdquo;
+He said it with a slightly bashful air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal?…&rdquo; in a sharp, questioning voice. &ldquo;What has Hal been
+saying to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not much. She was in great form at the Bruces&rsquo; last night. She
+rubbed it into me finely on various subjects, and finally went off with her
+head in the air to find some one refreshingly ugly who could talk sense.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They both laughed, but Lorraine&rsquo;s eyes were thoughtful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what did she say about your companionship?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that it was only some one to talk to and be company you wanted if
+you went away, and that I seemed to fill the post better than any one just
+now.&rdquo; He paused, then added: &ldquo;Do I?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt him looking hard into her face, and kept her eyes lowered. She did not
+want him to know that the thought of his companionship in the country was like
+the straw to the drowning man&mdash;the last joy to the condemned one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You always make me forget the years, and feel young,&rdquo; she said
+slowly and thoughtfully, &ldquo;and I dare say that is a very good tonic in
+itself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You oughtn&rsquo;t to need help from any one for that&rdquo;; and she
+knew there was genuine admiration in his voice. &ldquo;You never look anything
+but young. I suppose it is temperament.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Temperatment doesn&rsquo;t erase lines,&rdquo; with a little sad smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps not, but it makes them, in some way, suit you; and they add to
+the character in a face.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is sweet of you to say so, Alymer, but it sounds a fairy tale. I
+don&rsquo;t so very much mind growing old, if only it were not so…
+empty-handed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But surely you have so much!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not very much that counts. Anyhow, I hope some day you will have a great
+deal more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are depressed. You must really get away somewhere at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was grandfatherly now, the mood she always loved and laughed at, and her
+pulses quickened to it. He placed one of his large, strong-looking hand over
+hers&mdash;it covered them both out of sight&mdash;and he leaned a little
+nearer as he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can see I shall have to take the ordering of it all. You have done
+worlds for me. Now I shall have to take you in hand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A harsh expression crossed her face for a moment, thinking of what his mother
+had written her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And go straight to perdition!&rdquo; she said bitterly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He winced a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you wouldn&rsquo;t want me to make excuses for my own
+mother,&rdquo; he remarked, with the quiet dignity that was already winning
+his name in the Law Courts, side by side with his gift for light satire.
+&ldquo;You cannot but know in your heart just how far removed her outlook on
+the world is from ours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She wanted to ask him if any outlook gave one woman the right to insult another
+at her pleasure, but she remembered Mrs. Hermon probably did not realise that
+she would have the fineness to see the insult, and was not even aware that she
+had been insulting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should like you to know my father,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;He is a
+very understanding man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But surely he…&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; he knew nothing about it. When my mother spoke to him he asked her
+not to interfere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a few swift moments the generous treatment called to her own generosity,
+and for the sake of the understanding father she was almost ready to let go the
+straw. Only then again came the recollection of the uncle, and his impudent
+offer to substitute himself, and make amends at the same time; and again the
+smouldering fires leaped up, fed by the strong, protecting touch of the hand
+upon hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think Hal was right,&rdquo; Alymer was saying. &ldquo;If my
+companionship, just to run down and see how you are, wherever you may be, will
+help to cheer you up and amuse you, there is no reason why I shouldn&rsquo;t
+manage it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew he was making a concession of which he was half-afraid, because of
+what he owed her, and while one half of her longed to be self-sacrificing and
+release him, the other half fiercely demanded the straw that yet might save.
+And still she said nothing, gazing, gazing, into the flames.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you think?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know,&rdquo; with a tired smile. &ldquo;Of course I want you,
+but if&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind the &lsquo;if&rsquo;,&rdquo; cheerfully. &ldquo;If I promise
+to run down and see you, will you go away at once, and try to get well again
+quickly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would make a lot of difference.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then that settles it. Can you start tomorrow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I could.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her pulses were leaping fitfully now&mdash;leaping and bounding with a swift
+delight. Perhaps he felt it, for he withdrew his hand, and gave himself a
+little shake, as if warding off something dangerous.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where will you go?&rdquo; in a matter-of-fact voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know, but I like the sea. Any little place that is warm in the
+spring. I might as well motor down, so it doesn&rsquo;t matter about trains,
+and the motor can come back for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I bring any one else?&rdquo; his eyes searched her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just as you like.&rdquo; She leant forward and casually stirred the
+fire. &ldquo;Anyhow, there is sure to be plenty of room at this time of
+year.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Plenty of room, but not plenty of available companion chaperones,&rdquo;
+with a little laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we should have to make Sydney serve,&rdquo; naming her chauffeur.
+She got up from her seat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I must think about dinner,&rdquo; glancing at the clock.
+&ldquo;Are you joining me this evening?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t; I have to go to Morrison&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How gay you are!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is diplomatic. Morrison could get me a brief tomorrow if he
+liked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is a very pretty daughter, just out; isn&rsquo;t there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And is she so strikingly lovely?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose she is; but she is so full of airs and graces she irritates
+one almost past endurance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid you are a severe critic. The way is made too smooth for
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had moved near to him again, and stood beside him with one hand resting
+lightly on the mantelpiece, and one foot on the fender. He was standing as
+usual with his back to the fire. He looked down into her upturned face,
+fascinating now from a touch of roguishness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The splendid knight is hard to please; mere beauty is too
+commonplace.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it sure to be?&rdquo; a little smile played round his lips
+as he made his gallant retort. &ldquo;How can mere beauty ever appeal to me,
+who have been accustomed to all you have besides?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, flatterer!…&rdquo; she said softly, and smiled into the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a tense moment in which he longed to bend down and kiss her as he had
+done when the room was full of violets, but instead he pulled himself up
+sharply and moved away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I must be off. Perhaps tonight I shall have the luck to be able
+to look at her from a distance, and not strike the jarring note. I&rsquo;ll try
+to come in tomorrow to see what you have decided, and then I&rsquo;ll run down
+on Friday afternoon for a long weekend, to see that you are taking decent care
+of yourself.&rdquo; As an afterthought he added: &ldquo;I suppose Hal
+couldn&rsquo;t get off?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll ask her if you like. She would love it, if she could.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And keep us amused too. I should get my head bitten off, but you could
+put it on again for me. Good-bye. Anyhow, it is a promise that you will
+go&rdquo;; and with rather a hurried farewell, he was gone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine remained some moments gazing into the fire, and there was a softness
+in her eyes. She knew perfectly well that he had hurried at the last moment
+because when they stood together on the hearth he had wanted to kiss her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And she could not help comparing his strength in refraining with what would
+have been the action of most of the men she had known, who would have professed
+more, and meant less. She leaned her head down on her hand, and wondered a
+little pitifully:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why had the best she had ever known come to her too late?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then followed the dangerous thought: &ldquo;Is it indeed too late?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was not able to see Hal, but she talked to her on the telephone, and
+told her she was going into the country at once, and Alymer was coming down for
+the weekend. &ldquo;We wondered if you could get off too. Do try,&rdquo; she
+said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal answered at once that she could not manage it this week, but possibly the
+next, if Lorraine were still away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve only arranged for a week&rsquo;s holiday,&rdquo; Lorr aine
+replied. &ldquo;What a nuisance you should be unable to come this week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As a matter of fact, Hal was only going out for the day with her cousin on
+Sunday, but an urgent little note from Sir Edwin had begged her to keep
+Saturday free for him; and because the suspense was becoming unendurable, she
+granted his request, determined to know the truth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So it happened that Lorraine motored down alone to a quaint little
+fishing-village on the south coast, where there was a charming, old-fashioned,
+creeper-decked hotel, too far from the railway for the ordinary weekend
+tourists, and patronised mainly by motorists in the summer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And on Friday the motor went back to town to fetch Alymer, bringing him down
+about four o&rsquo;clock, unaccompanied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So Sydney will have to be chaperone after all,&rdquo; Lorraine said
+lightly. &ldquo;Now, what should you like to do tomorrow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there any chance of fishing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He asked the question with some diffidence, fearing that it might only bore
+her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine clapped her hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly what I thought. We&rsquo;re going to have the jolliest little
+fishing-smack imaginable for the whole day; and Sunday too, if you like; and
+take our lunch with us, and fish until we are tired.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A glad light leapt to Alymer&rsquo;s eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By gad! You are a trump,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime Hal waited a little feverishly for Saturday. They were to have
+one of their long outings. Meet at twelve, motor for two hours, lunch at two,
+then a walk; back to town to dine, without changing, in some grill room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sir Edwin had mapped it all out beforehand, sitting at his desk, with an
+anxious, unhappy expression, unrelieved by the evidences all around him of what
+he had achieved&mdash;of the proud position that was his. Indeed he almost
+wished he could will it all away, and be just an independent, moderately
+successful solicitor, able to please himself in all things; instead of bound by
+the demands of party and position.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And those demands just now were very exacting. It was not an easy party to
+serve, and the less so in that its ranks numbered many soldiers of fortune of
+the swashbuckler type, who meant to hold the power they had attained partly on
+the exploitation of a lie, by fair means or otherwise; even if necessary by
+further lies&mdash;lies upon lies&mdash;but clever, carefully manipulated ones;
+not bald, childish, outspoken ones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One of their most prominent office-holders had recently perpetrated a lie of
+the latter type. Such a barefaced, impudent, obvious lie, that there was no
+possibility of covering it up, and the whole country talked of it. Music halls
+laughed at it, comic papers and comic songs rang with it, election platforms
+bristled with it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Naturally the party was very annoyed. One could imagine them saying indignantly
+to the offender: &ldquo;Lie as much as you like, but for goodness&rsquo; sake
+have the common sense to lie cleverly. If you can&rsquo;t do that, better
+confine yourself to merely distorting facts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The official in question held a post in the same department as Sir
+Edwin&mdash;which meant that quite enough opprobrium had been recently hurled
+at the Law without risk of any further scandal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The party was not sufficiently strong for that. They had fright enough over a
+paragraph in the <i>Church Gazette</i>, hinting at a lady in connection with
+one of their Ministers&mdash;where there should be no lady; but prompt action
+had steered the ship through those shoals in safety.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But all the same, this business of The Right Honourable Sir Edwin Crathie and
+the Stock Exchange had got to be attended to at once. Under no possible
+consideration must it leak out that a Cabinet Minister had been speculating so
+heavily, and lost to such an extent, that nothing but an immense sum of money
+could save him from disgrace, bankruptcy, and ruin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One friend and another had tided him over for some little time, but he had
+continued to be reckless and incautious, relying with an unpleasant sneer upon
+his title.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh well!&rdquo; had been his conclusion; &ldquo;if the worst comes to
+the worst, I can always sell my name to an heiress.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally, that unhappy condition had arrived. It had further chosen the worst
+possible moment&mdash;the moment when the music halls and comic papers were
+waxing hilarious over the badly executed lie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sir Edwin had been summoned to a consultation that had been the reverse of
+pleasant. The only thing was that the way of escape had been thoughtfully
+planned for him. He had no need to hunt up the heiress for himself. She was
+considerately provided.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Bootes&rsquo; father was a wealthy Liberal, who had more than once
+generously supplied funds to the party, in return for some small favour he
+craved. Now he wanted a celebrity, with a title, for his daughter. Sir Edwin
+hardly came up to the required standard, but Mr. Bootes was easily persuaded
+that there was absolutely no limit to his possibilities, were he once set on
+his feet as far as money was concerned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Prime Ministership, followed by a Peerage, were in his certain grasp, had
+he but the necessary money to back him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Papa Bootes said over an over to himself: &ldquo;My daughter, Lady Elizabeth
+Crathie&rdquo; (it was really Eliza, but had been discreetly changed to suit
+the fashion), and came to the conclusion that a Cabinet Minister for a
+son-in-law sufficiently banished the odorous flavour patent manures had given
+to his fortune.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally he inquired the amount of Sir Edwin&rsquo;s debts, and promised a
+cheque if the delicate little matter were settled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hence the consultation, and the polite but firm intimation that Sir Edwin must
+close with the offer&mdash;that he had not even the right to choose ruin
+instead, because of its effect on the party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And of course, now the crisis had come, Sir Edwin did not want to close with
+the offer. In his own mind he consigned the party, and all belonging to it, to
+the very worst hell of Dante&rsquo;s Inferno.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, beyond relieving his mind a little, their imaginary exodus did not help
+him in the least. He found himself in the very undesirable position of
+furnishing a telling example of the utter impossibility of serving two masters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To do his common sense justice he had never had the least intention of
+attempting to. Without any prevarication as far as his own feelings were
+concerned, he had quite honestly chosen to serve Mammon. Having decided thus
+far, he banished the very memory of any other possible master. He did not exist
+for him. Mammon, in that it meant place, and power, and money, was the only god
+he wanted to serve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now?&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, of course, the Little Girl must go. At first he said it harshly,
+shrugging his shoulders and pursing his lips. It had only been a pastime all
+through, and, thanks to her own pluck and sense, it had been one of those
+rare, delightful pastimes that, ended suddenly, might leave only a gracious,
+enjoyable memory behind. He was glad of that.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Somewhere in his heart, that was mostly impressionless India rubber, there had
+proved to be a healthy, flesh-and-blood spot after all. She had found it
+quickly&mdash;gone straight to it with the unerring directness of a little
+child. It existed still&mdash;would always exist for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But in future the India rubber would have to close over it, and hide it from
+all chance of discovery. In future he must not even remember it himself. For
+that way lay weakness. No serving of Mammon could be achieved, whichever way he
+turned, with the frank, candid, clever Little Girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so she must go; and since it was inevitable, the sooner the better.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then had come the afternoon&rsquo;s golf; and, without asking himself why, he
+had hidden from her that there was any change. Afterwards, because the
+impending finale made him desire her as he had never desired her before, he
+went into the pretty little sitting-room and kissed her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he hurriedly departed, he remembered only that the kiss had been sweet.
+Also that evidently no rumour had reached her yet. But of course it would. Any
+moment of any day her newspaper office might get the news and publish it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spent a wretched week, torn mercilessly by his desire to serve two masters.
+In the end, because he was a man who hated to be thwarted, he swore a violent
+oath, and said that he would.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he sent Hal the urgent little note, and made his plans for the day. They
+all hinged largely upon his hope to get her to go to his flat in Jermyn Street,
+after that grill-room dinner. That was why when they met he cleverly took the
+bull by the horns directly he saw in her eyes that she had heard the news. He
+appealed, with insight, to her sense of humour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you look at me like that,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I shall punish you
+by sitting down here, in St. James&rsquo;s Park, on the curbstone, and giving
+you an explanation before all London that lasts an hour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve a great mind to keep you to it,&rdquo; with her low, musical
+laugh, &ldquo;and send Peter to bring a phonograph man with a blank record to
+take it down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And a dozen journalists with snap-shot cameras, and biograph apparatus,
+to link us in notorious publicity to all eternity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I couldn&rsquo;t stand that. What is your alternative?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A long, perfect day in this heavenly sunshine, pretending anything in
+the world you like that will make us forget the stale, boresome, old week-day
+world. Then, at the end of it, the unfolding of a glorious plan that is an
+explanation in itself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked doubtful, and seemed to cogitate. He waited in an anxiety he could
+scarce conceal, watching her mobile, sensitive face. Finally the sunshine and
+the light-hearted carelessness made the strongest appeal, and she gave in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. If it had been dull and cloudy I would not have agreed. But
+one daren&rsquo;t trifle with sunshine. We&rsquo;ll take our fill of it while
+it lasts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So it happened that their last long day was one of the best they had
+known&mdash;each being clever enough to carry out the suggested programme and
+banish the following cloud for the time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was a little feverish&mdash;a little gayer than usual, with some hidden
+strain; a little pathetically anxious to act an indifference she could not
+possibly feel, concerning that rumour, and throw herself heart and soul into
+their compact of forgetting everything for a little while except the sunshine
+and the exhilarating dash through a spring-decked England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In some places the hedges were white with hawthorn; and in sheltered nooks they
+sped past primroses, like pale stars in the grass. There were plantations of
+feathery, exquisite larch trees, their lovely green enhanced by tall dark
+pines, standing among them like sentinels. In gay gardens joyous daffodils
+nodded and laughed to them as they whirled past. Sir Edwin ventured an
+appreciative remark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk,&rdquo; Hal said. &ldquo;Pretend you are in a worldwide
+cathedral, and it is the great annual festival of spring.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I sing?&rdquo; he asked humorously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; not as you value your life. We have only to listen to the choir.
+Hush, don&rsquo;t you hear the birds singing the grand spring &lsquo;Te
+Deum&rsquo;!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But after a time she spoke herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it all like this on Thursday night&mdash;all these delicious scents
+and sights and sounds cast broadcast, for all who passed to enjoy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I expect so. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The kindliness in the quizzical grey eyes was amazing, as he sat back, watching
+her with covert insistence, instead of the spring glories. How the divine spark
+changes a man for the brief moments when it reigns! Banishing utterly Stock
+Exchange scandals, convenient heiresses, exacting parties, the merciless claims
+of the god Mammon. He might have looked just so, years and years ago, before he
+entered that hard service, and buried all his best under layer upon layer of
+harsh, deadening, world-wise grasping. Pity that the best is so frail to
+withstand the onslaught of the demons of power and place&mdash;so easily
+overcome and thrust away probably for ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was up in Holloway. I suppose you know it? And there was a strong man
+dying a helpless invalid, and his sister breaking her heart, and a woman from
+the opposite flat, who said she stood for nothing in the world but a letter of
+the alphabet. And all round was gloom, and murk, and shabbiness, and hard,
+pitiless facts. I came home in the tube, and all the passengers seemed to look
+like lifeless, starved, white-faced mummies. They made me feel frightened. I
+wondered where joy had fled to.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And here, was it just like this all the time?... flowers, and sweet
+scents, and spring, and hopefulness?... And scarcely any one to enjoy it all;
+while those white-faced, vacant mummies were journeying foolishly to and fro in
+that stuffy, detestable tube.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You shouldn&rsquo;t go to such places. What have you to do with
+Holloway, and shabbiness, and starving people? If you belonged to me, I
+wouldn&rsquo;t let you go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I have to do with them. We all have. But I don&rsquo;t know
+what. And it frightens me. I don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;ve ever felt frightened
+before. It was like being brought up sharp against a stone wall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His lips were suddenly a little stern. Stone walls had to be broken down. That
+was the use of being strong. One was not frightened; one just got a
+battering-ram, and forced a passage through. He would tell her soon, but not
+out here. Not just yet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are forgetting our compact. I&rsquo;m surprised at you, Hal. I call
+it a slight on the sunshine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, so it is!... Avaunt, and leave my mind, Holloway! This day belongs
+to the spring.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And until they drew up outside the Criterion Grill, she kept her spirits high,
+and gave herself to the joy of the hour.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
+
+<p>
+When they were half-way through dinner Hal asked, a trifle abruptly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, what about this piece of news? What does it mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked away, unable to meet her candid eyes, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will tell you presently.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where? Why not now? Why all this secrecy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because it is rather a big matter. You have sometimes said you would
+like to see the horns and trophies I brought back from my shooting-trip in
+Canada. Come and see them this evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At your flat?&rdquo; doubtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Why not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal knit her forehead and looked perplexed. She had so insistently declined to
+go hitherto, that she was loath now to change her mind. Yet she felt it was
+rather silly to have any fear of him now.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the end she went.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was only eight o&rsquo;clock, and he promised to take her home about nine.
+Besides, something in his manner was baffling her, and she wanted to understand
+how they stood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once in the sumptuous, beautifully furnished flat, however, he seemed to
+change. He came up to her suddenly, put his arms round her, and kissed her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At last,&rdquo; he breathed. &ldquo;At last I&rsquo;ve got you
+absolutely to myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal disengaged herself and held him at arm&rsquo;s length. For a moment she
+looked steadily into his eyes, and then she asked:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How has this report of your engagement got into the papers?&rdquo; Her
+lips curled a little. &ldquo;I presume you would hardly act to me like this if
+it is true.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is true in one sense, and not another.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh...&rdquo; She seemed a little taken aback. &ldquo;In what way is it
+true. Are you engaged to Miss Bootes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She lifted her eyebrows, and moved a pace or two farther away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t move away from me,&rdquo; he said a little thickly.
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t the part that&rsquo;s true which matters, but the part
+that is not true.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I brought you here to explain. I can do so very quickly. I am in a tight
+corner. The tightest corner I ever was in my life. Only one thing can save me.
+I must have money. Miss Bootes, or at any rate her father, wants a title. I
+haven&rsquo;t the shadow of a choice. I have got to sell her mine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again Hal&rsquo;s lips curled, and a little spark of fire shone in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I can understand all that!&rdquo; She tossed her head
+half-unconsciously. &ldquo;But why&rdquo;&mdash;her lips quivered a
+little&mdash;&ldquo;did you think it necessary to insult both of us by, at the
+same time, becoming lover-like to me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told you why; because I love you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stepped up to her, and caught both her hands in an iron grip.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, listen to me, Hal. Don&rsquo;t try to break away, for I won&rsquo;t
+let you go. I tell you it&rsquo;s a matter of life and death. In your heart you
+know quite well that I love you. You knew it when I kissed you last Saturday,
+and you were glad. I don&rsquo;t know when you read that announcement, but
+whenever it was, your heart said to you &lsquo;Whether it&rsquo;s true or not,
+he loves <i>me</i>&rsquo;. Probably you didn&rsquo;t believe it was true,
+because you knew nothing whatever about the devilish mess I was in. But in any
+case, your heart told you right. I do love you. I love you with every bit of me
+that knows how to love. If I have to be hers in name, I am at any rate yours at
+heart, and shall be all my life. Now, what have you to say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She tried to drag her hands away, but he gripped them tightly, forcing her to
+feel his strength, his resolve, and his masterfulness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have nothing to say. What should I have? You have elected to sell
+yourself, to let a woman&rdquo;&mdash;with swift scorn&mdash;&ldquo;buy you out
+of a tight corner. I… I…&rdquo; in a low tense voice, &ldquo;am sorry we ever
+met.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He hurled the monosyllable at her, now almost crushing her hands in his grasp,
+as he waited, silently compelling her to reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because the friendship was pleasant. It has meant a good deal. And now
+for it to end like this!… for me to have to scorn you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why need it end?… Why should you scorn me?… Wouldn&rsquo;t every second
+man you know in my place act exactly as I am acting? I have no choice. I ought
+not to tell you, but my political chiefs have issued an ultimatum to me, and I
+have got to obey it. Do you suppose I would consider it for a moment if I could
+find any other way out? Do you suppose I would risk losing you, would even
+dream of giving you up, if I were not driven to it by the very hell-hounds of
+circumstance?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To have felt love at all is the most wonderful thing in my life: I, who
+have always mocked and jeered and disbelieved. Well, anyhow it is there now.
+Listen, Hal. I love you. I love you? <i>I love you</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He tried again to kiss her, but she wrenched at her hands, held in his grip.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me go. You… you… to talk of love. You don&rsquo;t know what it is.
+Let me go… let me go&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t. By God, you shan&rsquo;t speak to me like that. I
+won&rsquo;t endure it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was evidently losing control of himself a little, and the sight of it
+steadied her. Behind all her bravado and pluck there was a terrible ache.
+Caught in a mesh of circumstances, she knew she could not struggle out without
+being grievously hurt at heart. She knew that, however she loathed his action
+now, she could not unlove him all in a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he scorched and seared her with his passionate declaration, her heart
+cried out that she wanted him to love her, that she wanted to be his. And yet
+stronger and higher and better than all, was that woman&rsquo;s instinct in her
+soul which loathed his action and clung wildly in the stress of the moment to
+its own best ideal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the swift sense of hopelessness that followed, great tears gathered in her
+eyes, and welled over onto her cheeks. They had an immediate effect upon him.
+He let go her hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t cry, Hal, don&rsquo;t cry,&rdquo; he said a little huskily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t stand that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She brushed the tears away almost angrily, but, ignoring his motion to draw up
+an arm chair, remained standing, straight and slim beside the hearth, trying to
+recover her composure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sir Edwin commenced to pace the room. He had succeeded in his scheme so far as
+to get Hal to the flat to discuss the projects in his mind, but now that she
+was there he felt at a loss to proceed. He wished she would sit down; he
+changed his mind and almost wished she would cry; standing there, like a
+soldier on guard, with that direct, fearless expression, she disconcerted him,
+by making him feel mean and paltry and small.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And all the time he could not choose but admire her more and more. He wished
+with all his heart in those moments that he could throw his position and his
+party overboard, and go to her with a clean slate, and say:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have done with serving Mammon. Come to me as my wife, and I will serve
+you instead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And instead he had brought her there to say:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot give up serving Mammon. I must marry the heiress, but let me be
+your lover and I will serve you as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And all the time Hal stood there with those resolute, set lips, as erect as a
+young grenadier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But all the same he meant to have her if he could, and he remembered of old how
+often he had found a swift, bold attack won. So he stopped short beside her,
+and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know that whatever circumstances compel me to do, all my heart is
+yours, Hal, and you care a little bit about me. You know you do. Don&rsquo;t
+condemn me to outer darkness. Come to me like the sensible little woman you
+are. No one will ever know, and I can make your life gayer and happier just as
+long as ever you like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked at him with a startled, perplexed expression.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she asked slowly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, don&rsquo;t get angry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He laid his hand on her arm, with a caressing touch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve knocked about the world too much not to know what I mean.
+You know perfectly well half the girls you know would let themselves be
+persuaded. But that isn&rsquo;t what I want. I&rsquo;ve too much respect for
+your strength of character. Come to me because you can be strong enough to rise
+above conventions and because you dare to be a law unto yourself. It is the
+courage I expect of you. Hal, my darling, who is ever to be any the wiser if
+you and I are lovers? Think what I can do for you to make life gay and
+interesting and fresh. Don&rsquo;t decide in a hurry. If no one ever knows, no
+one need be hurt.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She moved away from him, and went and stood by the window, looking down at the
+passing lights in St. James&rsquo;s Street; looking at the lights in the
+windows opposite, looking at the faint light of the stars overhead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was characteristic of her that she did not grow angry and indignant; nor, in
+a theatrical spirit, immediately attempt to impress him with the fact that she
+was a good, virtuous woman, and that his suggestion filled her with horror. Her
+knowledge of life was too wide, her understanding too deep.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew that to such a man as he a proposal of this kind did not present any
+shocking aspect whatever. When he said, &ldquo;Be a sensible little
+woman,&rdquo; he meant it to the letter. He actually believed she would show
+common sense in yielding to him, and taking what joy out of life she could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, unfortunately for the world in general, it is not only the horror-struck,
+conventional, shocked women who resolutely turn their eyes from the primrose
+path. There are plenty of large-hearted, broad-minded women, who, seeing the
+world as it is, instead of how the idealists would have it, are content to go
+on their own strong way, fighting their own battle for themselves without
+saying anything, and without judging the actions of others, content in striving
+to live up to their own best selves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was one of these. If another girl in her place had yielded to the alluring
+prospect of possessing such an interesting lover as Sir Edwin, to brighten the
+commonplace, daily round, she would not have blamed her, she would have tried
+not to judge her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she would have been sorry for her in many ways, knowing how apt the
+primrose path is to turn suddenly to thorns and stones; and in an hour of need
+she would have stood by her if she could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the fact of possessing these wide sympathies did not lessen any obligation
+she felt to herself. It was her creed to &ldquo;play the game&rdquo; as far as
+in her lay, and according to her own definition.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That definition did not admit of any irregularity of this kind. It called,
+instead, sternly and insistently for absolute denial. It told her now, without
+the smallest shadow of doubt, that from tonight she must never see Sir Edwin
+again. She must take whatever interest he had brought out of her life, and go
+back to the old, monotonous round.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was useless to question or reason. The decree was there in her own heart.
+The insistent call to keep her colours flying high, as she fought her way
+through the pitfalls of life to the Highest and Best.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she paced the room behind her, disclosing a carefully thought-out plan, now
+pleading, now expostulating, she heard him rather as one afar off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The plan did not matter one way or another. If she could have let herself go at
+all she would not have troubled about plans. His pleading and expostulating she
+scarcely heard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was looking out at all the lights, and her mind was grappling with
+problems. How harsh the glare of the streets appeared tonight. How far, far
+away the pin points that were stars. Hal liked a city.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Constellations hanging like great lamps in wonderful, wilderness skies would
+have wearied her quickly. She loved people, and she liked them all about her.
+But tonight she felt suddenly very near to the dark, shadowy side of
+life&mdash;very far from the stars of light.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She glanced up at the pin points a little wistfully. If perhaps they were
+nearer with their message of high striving; if perhaps the glare at hand were
+less harsh, there might be so much more steadfast courage in the world; so much
+less weak acceptance of conditions that led to pain and misery and disaster.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At last he stood beside her, and implored her to tell him, once for all, that
+she would yield and come.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when he saw into the clear depths of her eyes, he knew his hopes were vain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly, with swift self-distrust, his mood softened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I&rsquo;ve shocked you past forgiveness now,&rdquo; he said
+miserably. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll think I&rsquo;ve been a brute to you, and
+you&rsquo;ll never forget it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I shan&rsquo;t think that; but I should like to go home at
+once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But surely that is not your last word!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What else is there so say? I... I... can&rsquo;t do that sort of thing.
+That is all. From today you must go your way, and I must go mine. It is
+useless to discuss it. Let me go home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you can&rsquo;t mean it,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Surely we are not
+to part like this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had moved back into the room now, and was pulling on her gloves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What else can we do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you care for me, Hal. You can&rsquo;t deny it. You do care a little;
+don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked into his eyes without a tremor, but with a pain at the back of hers
+that made him flinch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I care,&rdquo; she said very quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he sat down, and buried his face in his arms on the table. Every good,
+honest trait he possessed called to him to throw &ldquo;Mammon&rdquo; to the
+winds, and make her happy. Let the party take care of itself. It was not for
+his nobility of character they had taken him into the Cabinet. Let his
+creditors do their worst&mdash;a strong man could win through anything. But the
+mood did not last. There was not enough room in that India rubber heart for it
+to expand and grow. It died for want of breathing-space.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you care, why can&rsquo;t you have the courage to come to me?&rdquo;
+he asked a little fiercely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I have the courage to stay away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And he knew&mdash;hardened sinner that he was&mdash;that she named the greater
+courage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But his goaded feelings called to him, and drove him, making him mad with the
+knowledge he must lose her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Heroics!…&rdquo; he said&mdash;&ldquo;heroics!… Don&rsquo;t talk like a
+bread-and-butter miss, Hal. It is unthinkable of you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got up from his chair and took a step towards her, but stood
+irresolute&mdash;daunted by the calm strength in her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The world is too old for heroics any more. Every one laughs at them.
+Where is the politician today who cares tuppence for anything but the main
+chance? We blazon our way into office, and we blazon louder still to keep
+there. It is the spirit of the age. The strong man takes what he wants, and
+holds it by right of his strength. In primeval times we used fists and clubs.
+Now we hit with brains and words or hard cash. That is all the difference. The
+strong man is still the one who takes what he wants, and keeps it. And I want
+you, Hal. It is mere feebleness&mdash;childishness&mdash;to be thwarted by
+convention and circumstance. Hoodwink convention, and stamp on circumstance. Go
+through stone walls with a battering-ram. As long as the world doesn&rsquo;t
+know&mdash;who cares? Those are my sentiments. They have been for years. When I
+want a thing, I go for it bald-headed, and take it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He drew nearer boldly, refusing to be daunted, putting all his strength and
+determination against hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And I want you, Hal. Do you understand? Don&rsquo;t be a little fool.
+Come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She backed away from him towards the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I understand well enough,&rdquo; she said quietly, &ldquo;and I shall
+never see you again if I can help it. All that you say does not appeal to me in
+the least. I am not a politician&mdash;thank God&mdash;and I am still
+old-fashioned enough to possess an ideal. I am going now. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when he saw she was already in the little hall, a wave of fierce desire
+seemed to catch him by the throat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; he exclaimed hoarsely: &ldquo;Not yet… I care and you
+care&mdash;you cannot go yet&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But before he reached her, she had slipped through the front door, and shut it
+behind her, and run down the stairs out into the street.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap37"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2>
+
+<p>
+All through the next day, while motoring with her cousin Dick Bruce, Hal made a
+valiant effort to appear exactly as usual; but all the fresh spring countryside
+now seemed to mock her with its sudden emptiness, and the very engine of the
+motor throbbed out to her that something had gone from her life which would not
+come back any more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She chatted away to Dick manfully, about all manner of things, but in the
+pauses of their chatter she was silent and still in a manner quite unlike her
+old self&mdash;reattending with a start, and sometimes so distrait she did not
+hear when he spoke to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a time Dick began to notice, and then purposely to watch, and finally he
+perceived all her gaiety was forced, and sometimes was weighing heavily on her
+mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was useless to say anything while they motored, so he gave all his attention
+to his driving, and purposely allowed the conversation to drop.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they returned to Bloomsbury he went in to supper with her, as was his
+habit, and, as he hoped, Dudley was away up at Holloway. It was not until they
+had finished their meal, and the landlady had cleared away, that he attacked
+the subject; then, with characteristic directness, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Hal, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The matter?…&rdquo; in surprise. &ldquo;What can you mean, Dick? Why
+should anything be the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She tried to meet his eyes frankly, but before the searching inquiry in them
+her gaze dropped to the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something is the matter, Hal. Just as if I shouldn&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was thoughtful a moment or two, thinking how best to put him off the right
+scent; then with overpowering suddenness came the recollection of all the
+pleasure and interest and delight the lost friendship had stood for, and her
+eyes filled with tears. It was useless to attempt to hide them, so she
+contrived to say as steadily as possible:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am a bit down on my luck about something; but it&rsquo;s nothing to
+worry about. Don&rsquo;t take any notice; there&rsquo;s a dear boy. I shall
+soon forget.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why shouldn&rsquo;t I take any notice? Don&rsquo;t be a goose, Hal.
+Tell me what&rsquo;s the matter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was silent, and after a pause he added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it is Sir Edwin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal felt it useless to prevaricate, and so she said, with assumed lightness:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it has been a little sudden, and we had some jolly times
+together.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he is engaged?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She told him briefly why. Dick watched her with a question in his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he deliberately get engaged to the other girl, knowing he cared for
+you?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal tried to lie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, there was nothing of that sort between him and me. We were just good
+pals. But of course it can&rsquo;t go on the same.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not a clever liar, Hal,&rdquo; he said, with a little
+smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She coloured and bit her lip, with an uneasy laugh. Then the tears shone again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Better tell me about it. Perhaps I can lend a hand to get through
+with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal placed her hands on the mantelshelf, and leaned her forehead down on them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me something funny, Dick, or I shall howl in a few seconds.
+Don&rsquo;t be serious. Be idiotic. Have the carrots and turnips decided which
+take precedence yet? Is her ladyship, the onion, weeping upon the
+cabbage&rsquo;s lordly bosom? Are the babies talking philosophy over their
+bottles? For Heaven&rsquo;s sake, Dick, be idiotic, and make me laugh.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think it would do you more good to cry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, no: I hate to cry. Do help me not to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Dick understood the relief it was to a woman to have it out, and he just
+sat down in Dudley&rsquo;s big arm chair, and reached the favourite footstool
+for Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit on the stool of confessional, and I&rsquo;ll make you laugh later
+on. If you don&rsquo;t cry now, you will when I&rsquo;ve gone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal sat on the footstool, and leaning against his knee, cried quietly for
+several minutes. He played with an unruly strand of hair until she dried her
+eyes, and then said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When we were kids, you always told me when things went wrong with you.
+Tell me all about it now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I left off being a kid about a month ago. I&rsquo;m ancient history
+now&rdquo;; and she tried to smile through her tears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, just because&mdash;&rdquo; and then her voice broke suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose Sir Edwin was in love with you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he was obliged to marry the other woman for the money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was thoughtful for some moments, and then added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the same, when a man like that goes so far as to love a woman, which
+must be a pretty novel experience for him, he doesn&rsquo;t let her go lightly.
+He won&rsquo;t let you go lightly, Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall not see him again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has it come to that already?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It had to. There was no other course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It sounds rather sudden and drastic.&rdquo; He watched her keenly.
+&ldquo;A man like that would try to get both of you. Did he try, Hal?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hot blood rushed to her face, and she turned her head away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he would think it the obvious, sensible course, I suppose, and
+perhaps a good many women would, too. What did you think, Hal?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think. I hurried away. I shall not see him any more at
+all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her with a light in his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bravo,&rdquo; he said; and there was a low thrill in his voice.
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;ll think the world more of you, Hal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not sure; anyhow, it doesn&rsquo;t help very much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you wanted to go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stared into the fire and was silent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; he said simply. &ldquo;You are one of the women who would
+have dared, only… of course I knew you wouldn&rsquo;t, Hal. And, if you had, I
+shouldn&rsquo;t have been the one to blame you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she told him, still staring at the fire. &ldquo;I could have
+dared under some circumstance. But not these. Never under pretty, ignoble ones.
+I think that all makes it worse. There were two Sir Edwins. There was one I
+knew, and another the world knew. It was the other that triumphed. Mine will
+never come back. It is all finished.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She bowed her head down on her arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Dick,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I shall miss him badly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m glad you let him go, Hal.&rdquo; He spoke in a quiet voice
+full of feeling. &ldquo;Most men are pretty casual and indifferent nowadays,
+and we often say we like a woman to be broad-minded, and daring, and all that;
+but, by Jove! when we know she&rsquo;s straight as a die, without being a
+prude, we&rsquo;re ready to kneel down to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stand to your guns, Hal. I... I... want to go on knowing that you are
+among those one wants to kneel down to. If he is very persistent and
+persevering, and it gets harder, I dare say I can help. You can always
+&rsquo;phone me at a moment&rsquo;s notice, and I shall consider myself at your
+beck and call.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are a dear, Dick, but I shall not see him. He can only wait for me
+at the office, and I shall go out the back way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, if you&rsquo;re rather lost there are lots of things we might do
+to fill up the time. I&rsquo;ve been going down East with Quin lately.
+It&rsquo;s awfully interesting. Especially with him&mdash;he&rsquo;s so
+splendid with the most hopeless characters. There&rsquo;s a sing-song at one of
+the clubs on Wednesday eve. Come down with us. You&rsquo;ll see Quin at his
+very best.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d love to come. Will you fetch me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll fetch you from the office, and we&rsquo;ll have a sort of
+meat-tea meal at the Cheshire Cheese. Perhaps Quin will join us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they sat on and talked in the firelight till it was time for Dick to go; and
+all the time Hal was unconsciously drawing strength and resolution from him for
+the fight that lay ahead of her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Many years ago when she broke her dolls he had tried to mend them and comfort
+her. And now, because he was a simple, manly gentleman, blessed with the
+precious gift of understanding&mdash;when she was feeling heart-broken he tried
+with all the old, generous affection to help to heal the wound, and bring her
+consolation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And away on the southern shore, where a little fishing-village nestled in the
+cliffs, and a creeper-covered hotel awaited sleepily the coming of the summer
+and the summer visitors, Lorraine came to what she deemed her hour&mdash;the
+one great hour left&mdash;and, as a drowning man, caught at her straw. Two long
+perfect days they had spent on the sea, with an old fisherman, full of
+anecdote, and his young grandson to sail the boat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came the dreamy twilight hour, and their utter loneness; and Alymer, with
+the strong, swift blood in his veins, and the strong lust of life in his heart,
+lost himself, as she meant that he should, in the intoxicating atmosphere of
+her charm and fascination.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap38"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hal and her cousin emerged from the office the following Wednesday
+evening, the first thing Hal saw was Sir Edwin&rsquo;s motor, and Sir Edwin
+himself standing waiting for her. A disengaged taxi was just moving off, having
+deposited a fare, and instantly, without a word to Dick, she sprang into it.
+Dick gave a sharp glance round and followed her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell him where to go,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He directed the chauffeur, and then looked anxiously into her face. She had
+turned very pale, and seemed for the moment overcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sir Edwin&rsquo;s motor?&rdquo; he asked, and she nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I call for you every day?&rdquo; he said at once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. He can&rsquo;t possibly see me if I go out the other way.&rdquo;
+Then she added: &ldquo;He won&rsquo;t go on for long. He was there yesterday,
+but he did not see me; and after today I dare say he will give it up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally she added, with an effort:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard this morning the wedding is already fixed for June. It&rsquo;s
+to be one of the weddings of the season&rdquo;; and her lips curled somewhat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m more sorry for her than for you, Hal,&rdquo; he said quietly.
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve a lot of splendid years before you yet. Heaven only knows
+what&rsquo;s ahead of her. I doubt he&rsquo;ll not give her much beside his
+name for his share of the bargain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made no comment, leaning back in her corner, white and tired. It was
+difficult to imagine anything ever being splendid again just then; or any man
+ever seeming other than tame, after Sir Edwin&rsquo;s clever, virile,
+interesting personality.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Dick had judged wisely in suggesting the trip down East. Anything West
+would merely have recalled painful memories. The East of London was new to her,
+and could not fail to be interesting to any one with Hal&rsquo;s love of her
+fellows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went to a large parish hall, where Quin was in charge for a social evening
+of dancing and music. Factory girls were there in all their tawdry finery to
+dance; rough, boisterous youths mostly made fun of them; tired, white-faced,
+over-worked middle-aged women sat round the walls, laughing weakly, but
+forgetting the drudgery for a little while. At one end of the room older men
+sat and smoked, and looked at illustrated periodicals.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal entered with Quin and Dick on either side of her, and was immediately
+accosted by a young lady, with a longer and straighter feather than most of
+them, with the remark:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hullo, miss!… which of &rsquo;em&rsquo;s yer sweet&rsquo;eart?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A burst of laughter greeted this sally, but Hal, not in the least disconcerted,
+replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, both, of course… I&rsquo;ll be bound you&rsquo;ve had two at a time
+often enough.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The repartee delighted all within hearing, and from that moment Hal was a
+brilliant succes at the social evenings. She only wondered she had never
+thought to go before; but perhaps no other moment would have been just so
+propitious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sudden blank in her life craved some interest that was entirely new, and
+made her more ready to receive fresh impressions and create fresh occupations.
+She quickly found real pleasure in teaching the girls to dance properly, in
+listening to their outspoken humour, and soon developed an interest in their
+varied and vigorous personalities.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she and Dick went home together that evening he noted joyfully that a little
+colour had come back to her face, and there was once more a genuine gleam in
+her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You liked it?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Immensely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It grows on one. You&rsquo;ll like it better still yet. Alymer and I
+have always rather laughed at Quin, and regarded him as a crank. But he&rsquo;s
+not. It&rsquo;s just that he loves humanity, and he gets quite close up to the
+core of it down there, even if it is half-smothered in vice and dirt. I
+don&rsquo;t believe he&rsquo;ll ever take orders. It&rsquo;s partly because
+he&rsquo;s not a clergyman, and they know it, he&rsquo;s such a success.
+Tonight, for instance, there was a big bullying chap trying to spoil all the
+fun for the men who wanted to smoke peacefully and look at the books. Quin
+remonstrated, and he turned round and swore violently at him. To my surprise,
+Quin, if anything, outdid him. I wouldn&rsquo;t have believed Quin could swear
+like that. I&rsquo;m sure I couldn&rsquo;t myself. The chap just looked at him,
+and tried another oath or two doubtfully. And Quin said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on if you like, I&rsquo;m not nearly through yet. I can&rsquo;t be a
+blank, blank, blank bully, and I don&rsquo;t want to be&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+nothing to be proud of; but I&rsquo;m as much of a man as you any day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The other chaps laughed then, and the brute slunk off to the other side
+of the room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked Quin about it later, and he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Oh well, you&rsquo;ve got to talk to them in their own language,
+or they don&rsquo;t listen. That&rsquo;s the best of not being a clergyman. Of
+course one couldn&rsquo;t very well curse and swear then. But it&rsquo;s the
+way to manage them. That chap will come to heel in an evening or two, and be
+reasonably quiet.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You hit the right note straight off, Hal. Quin was awfully pleased. Talk
+to them on their own level first, and presently you&rsquo;ll be getting them
+struggling up to yours almost without knowing it. He&rsquo;s frightfully keen
+for you to go again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going every Wednesday,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and other times
+as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They parted at the door, and Hal went in alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment she stood in the sitting-room she knew that something had happened.
+Dudley was sitting in his big chair by the fire, holding neither book nor
+paper, gazing silently at the flames.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the table she stood still.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter, Dudley?… What has happened?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were a few moments&rsquo; silence, then, scarcely looking round, he
+replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s gone. Run away with another man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gone!…&rdquo; she echoed. &ldquo;Gone… with another man! … Do you mean
+Doris?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. She was married at a Registry Office this morning. A messenger boy
+took the letter up this evening, after they had left for the Continent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal sat down. It was so violently sudden she felt stunned. After a moment
+Dudley got up and moved aimlessly about the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s no use attempting to say anything, Hal. There&rsquo;s nothing
+to say. Of course I know you&rsquo;re sorry, and all that, but I&rsquo;d rather
+you didn&rsquo;t say it. You never liked the engagement, and you never liked
+Doris. Probably you were justified, but it doesn&rsquo;t make it any easier for
+me now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who has she gone with?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I believe he&rsquo;s a South African millionaire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You had heard of him?…&rdquo; sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only last week, from the tenant opposite. She did not know I was your
+sister, and said something about Doris having two young men, and one of them
+was a South African millionaire.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He made no comment, but continued his aimless walk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about Ethel and Basil?&rdquo; she could not help asking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are terribly upset. As soon as I had been shown the letter I went
+out to make inquiries. Ethel could not rest for fear everything was not square.
+She wanted to go off after her at once. But it&rsquo;s all correct. I saw the
+Registrar. They were properly married, and they left for Dover at eleven, bound
+for Paris.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What in the world will become of Basil?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He winced visibly. Doris&rsquo;s flagrant selfishness to Basil hurt almost more
+than her faithlessness to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She stated in the letter that her husband was allowing her a thousand a
+year for herself, and she was prepared to pay a housekeeper to look after Basil
+and the flat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little beast,&rdquo; Hal breathed under her breath. &ldquo;What are they
+going to do?&rdquo; she said aloud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The tenant opposite insists upon taking Doris&rsquo;s place. She was
+sitting with him when Ethel got home, and the letter arrived about the same
+time. Nothing else will satisfy her. She is going to be with him all day, and
+only teach in the evenings after Ethel has got back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How splendid of her!&rdquo; involuntarily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She hardly seems the kind of person Basil would like, but he appeared
+quite pleased. It may have been a little quixotism. All he said was:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What in the world should we have done without you, G; and there! only a
+few weeks ago you were wishing you had not been born.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How like Basil. All gratitude and understanding as usual. But it must
+have hit him rather hard, Dudley. Is he all right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo; The gloom on Dudley&rsquo;s face deepened.
+&ldquo;I thought he looked very ill, but I could not get Ethel to say much. She
+seemed rather to avoid me. I don&rsquo;t think she likes me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was conscious of a little inward smile of gladness. She had guessed
+Ethel&rsquo;s secret long enough ago, and she knew the power of uncertainty and
+a little thwarting. Dudley would naturally try to break down Ethel&rsquo;s
+dislike; and perhaps in doing so he would grow to know her better.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I must try and get up tomorrow,&rdquo; was all she said.
+&ldquo;Ethel is so reserved. She will get ill herself if she broods and frets
+on the top of all her work and anxiety.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you?&rdquo; he asked, with some eagerness. &ldquo;Basil loves to
+see you; and if he is really worse, I shall get Sir John Maitland to go up and
+see him again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I&rsquo;ll go. We may be able to help them between us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was just going away upstairs to bed, when the forlorness of Dudley&rsquo;s
+attitude, and the thought of her own sore heart before Dick comforted her, made
+her lay down her hat again and cross the room to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley, don&rsquo;t forget you&rsquo;ve got me still. I know I&rsquo;m
+very trying sometimes, but I love you so much more than Doris ever could
+have.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She sat on the arm of his chair, and played with the lapel of his coat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget about me, Dudley. If you are just only miserable, I
+shall be miserable too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at her with a sudden greater depth of affection than she had ever
+seen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t forget, Hal. If it weren&rsquo;t for you, what in the
+world should I do now?… It&rsquo;s no use talking about it, is it? You will
+understand that; but thank God you&rsquo;re still here with me, and we can go
+on the same again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stooped and kissed him hurriedly, and then left the room, that he might not
+see the tears brimming over in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning she rang up Lorraine&rsquo;s flat, to know if she had come
+back yet. She was rather surprised when Jean her maid answered. It was not like
+Lorraine to go away without her maid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know when to expect her?…&rdquo; she repeated
+uncertainly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; Miss Vivian said she might come any day, or she might stay over
+another Sunday. She has the motor with her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is she far from a station?&rdquo; Hal asked, contemplating the
+possibility of joining her on Saturday if she had not returned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About seven miles, I think. She went down in the car, and is coming back
+in it. I have had one letter, in which she says she is having lovely weather,
+and absolute rest, and feeling much better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s good. Well, if she comes back suddenly will you ask her to
+&rsquo;phone me? I want to see her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But neither the next day nor the one after was there any call, and in reply to
+a second query on Saturday, Jean said she had only received a wire that morning
+saying she was staying until Tuesday.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was a little puzzled that she had not been invited down for the second
+weekend, but decided Lorraine must have meant to return and changed her mind
+at the last moment, leaving no time to get a message to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A later encounter with Dick, however, puzzled her more than ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Old Alymer is taking quite a long holiday,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We
+were expecting him on Tuesday or Wednesday, but he never turned up. He was at
+the Temple on Thursday, but went away again in the evening.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope Lorraine isn&rsquo;t ill?&rdquo; she said anxiously; &ldquo;but
+of course if she is, she would have sent for Jean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is he away with Miss Vivian?&rdquo; Dick asked in some surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I made him go,&rdquo; loyally. &ldquo;He had scruples, but really
+they seemed too silly, and Lorraine looked so ill, and he always has the knack
+of cheering her up and doing her good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick looked at her doubtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope you were wise,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but they are rather
+fascinating people, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, nonsense! Lorraine is quite eleven years older than Alymer, and she
+only likes to look at him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick had it in his mind to suggest there had been a far greater disparity
+between her and Sir Edwin, but he only said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he is good to look at, isn&rsquo;t he?… and such a dear old chap.
+Nothing seems to spoil him. And of course Miss Vivian has done an awful lot for
+him. If she wanted him to go, he could hardly refuse.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I said,&rdquo; with a little note of triumph.
+&ldquo;And Jean told me Lorraine had said in a letter she was having absolute
+rest, and feeling much better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, when Hal was alone she wondered a little again why Lorraine, after
+inviting her for the first Sunday, had said nothing about the second. It was
+quite unusual for her not to go for a weekend when Lorraine was at the sea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt suddenly that they wanted to be alone, yet persuaded herself it was
+only because Lorraine had been so tired.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap39"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s uneasiness concerning Lorraine and Alymer Hermon was swallowed up
+almost immediately on Lorraine&rsquo;s return, by a sudden alarming change in
+Basil Hayward. The first time she went to Holloway after Doris&rsquo;s
+elopement, she saw the decided symptoms of change, and her report to Dudley
+caused the latter once more, on his own responsibility, to request Sir John
+Maitland to pay a visit to the little flat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sir John&rsquo;s report was the reverse of reassuring, and they all felt the
+end was at hand. Dudley went to Holloway nearly every evening, and sometimes
+stayed until the middle of the night, to sit up with the sick man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal went from the office in the afternoons, two or three days each week. When
+she was there the tenant from Flat G went home to snatch a short rest, in case
+a bad night lay ahead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel went quietly on her way, looking as if already a sorrow had wrapped her
+round before which human aid and human sympathy were powerless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went to the office as usual, and did her usual work, in nervous dread from
+hour to hour lest a telephone call should summon her in haste. She scarcely
+spoke to any one but Hal; and not very much to her; but it was evident in a
+thousand little ways that she liked to have her near.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With Dudley a new sort of coldness seemed to have sprung up. He was
+self-conscious ill at ease with her now; anxious to show his sympathy, yet made
+awkward by his self-sown notion that he was antagonistic to her. Ethel did not
+notice it very much. All her thoughts were with Basil.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal saw it and was troubled. She was afraid the slight misunderstanding might
+grow into a barrier that it would be extremely difficult to break down later
+on. However, she could only watch anxiously at present, and try in small ways
+to smooth out the growing difficulty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Basil himself was the most consistently cheerful of all. He believed that he
+was near the end of his long martyrdom, and that in another sphere he would be
+given back his health and strength.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had seemed very worried at first about Doris and Dudley, but gradually he
+became philosophical over it, and hoped the future would bring united happiness
+to Dudley and Ethel. He consigned her to Dudley&rsquo;s care and Hal&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To Dudley he merely said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you&rsquo;ll always be a good friend to chum. I&rsquo;m thankful
+she will at least have you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley did not say much in reply, but he looked sufficiently unhappy, and
+withal so glad of the service, that it spoke volumes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To Hal he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Chum is very fond of you, Hal. You&rsquo;ll keep an eye on her,
+won&rsquo;t you? Perhaps there is no one else but you who can.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quick tears shone in Hal&rsquo;s eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I will… two eyes.. I don&rsquo;t know that I shall let her out
+of my sight at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Other evening, because Dudley was so often at Holloway, Hal went to dinner with
+the Three Graces. Dick often fetched her from the office, and they went back
+together. Now that she had become interested in the East End, they had schemes
+to talk over, and she and Quin were never weary of discussing odd characters
+there, and odd histories, and plans for different amusements.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick joined in a times, but was very busy with his new book.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon had grown strangely quiet. At intervals, for the sake of old
+times, he and Hal had sparring matches, but if, as was not very usual, he
+happened to be at home, he was inclined to do little else but lounge and smoke,
+and watch her while presumably reading a paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal did not notice it particularly. She had many other things on her mind just
+then, and Alymer only filled a very small corner. She was glad he was
+progressing so satisfactorily. He was well started up the ladder now, and
+though he had had no single big chance to distinguish himself once for all, it
+was generally regarded as merely a matter of time. She fancied she did not meet
+him so much at Lorraine&rsquo;s, but as she did not go nearly so often herself,
+on account of the Holloway visits, she could not really know.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she noticed that Lorraine also was a little different&mdash;a little more
+reserved and likewise quieter. She seemed still to be ailing a good deal, and
+to have lost interest in her profession.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet she did not seem unhappy. On the contrary, Hal thought her happier than
+usual in an undemonstrative, dreamy sort of way. She was interested in the East
+End social evenings, and on one occasion went herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was also interested in Basil Hayward, and motored up with lovely flowers
+for him; but she talked far less of the theatre, and seemed indisposed to
+consider a new part.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want a real long rest this summer,&rdquo; she had said, &ldquo;free
+from rehearsals and everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In mid-June Sir Edwin was married, with a great deal of display, and much
+paragraphing of newspapers. The day before the wedding, Hal received a
+beautiful gold watch and chain from him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not be angry, and do not send it back,&rdquo; he wrote. &ldquo;Keep
+it and wear it in memory of some one who was known to you only, and who has
+since died. To me, it is like honouring the memory of my best self if I can
+persuade you thus to perpetuate it. Good-bye, Little Girl; and God bless
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal kept the watch and wore it, and the only one who demurred was Alymer
+Hermon. It was spoken of at the Cromwell Road flat one evening, when he was
+present but taking no part in the conversation. Dick admired it, and she told
+him it had been given to her recently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quin was not there, and a moment later Dick was called away to speak to some
+one at the telephone. Alymer looked up at Hal suddenly, with a very direct
+gaze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine told me Sir Edwin gave you the watch the other day. I
+don&rsquo;t know how you can keep it, much less wear it. You ought to throw it
+into the Thames.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal flushed up angrily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I&rsquo;m interested in your opinion on the matter,&rdquo; she
+said, &ldquo;but I had not thought of asking for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hermon flushed too, but he stood his ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would be the opinion of most men.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Most men&rsquo; don&rsquo;t appeal to me in the least. I am quite
+satisfied with my own opinion in this matter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, I wish you wouldn&rsquo;t wear it,&rdquo; he urged, a little
+boyishly. &ldquo;The man has shown himself a cad. He was in a tight corner, and
+he let a woman buy him out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And don&rsquo;t most men take help from a woman at some time or
+other?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He winced, but answered sturdily:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not monetary help. Besides, he didn&rsquo;t worry much about getting you
+talked of, did he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was just going to make a sarcastic retort, when Dick reappeared, and the
+matter was dropped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when she came to think of it afterwards, she could not but be a little
+struck at Alymer&rsquo;s attitude, and wondered why he had taken so much
+interest in her action.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A few days later Basil Hayward died.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was not there at the time, but Dudley had not come home at all the previous
+night, and she was afraid that his friend was worse. In the afternoon she had
+been detained at the office, and she hardly liked to go up to Holloway in the
+evening without knowing if she was wanted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So she sat anxiously waiting for Dudley. When at last he arrived he looked
+haggard and worn and ill. Hal stood up when he came in, and waited for him to
+speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all over,&rdquo; he said, and sank into his chair as if he
+were dead-beat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s hart ached with sympathy. She felt instinctively there was more
+here than grief for a friend whose death could only be regarded as a merciful
+release.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was right. For the last three weeks Dudley and Ethel had been in almost
+daily contact beside the dying man&rsquo;s bed. Silently, devotedly they had
+served him together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But while Ethel was occupied only with the sufferer, Dudley, in the long
+night-watches, had seen at last what manner of woman it was he had passed by
+for the pretty, shallow, selfish little sister.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ever since the elopement, three months ago, he had been changing. It had been
+the bitter blow that had stabbed him awake. In some mysterious way new aspects,
+new ideas, new understanding, began to develop, where before had been chiefly a
+narrow outlook and rigid conformity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was though in the fulfilling of her work, Life had harrowed his soul with a
+bitter harrowing, that it might bring forth the better fruit in its season. The
+harrowing had seared and scarred, but already the new richness was showing,
+the new promise of a nobler future.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The All-wise Mother works very much in human life as she does in
+nature&mdash;topping off a hope here, and a hope there; ploughing, pruning,
+harrowing the soil and branches of the mind and spirit, that they may bring
+forth rich fruit in due season.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The life that she passes by unheeded, leaving it only to the sunshine and wind
+and rain, often grows little else but rank vegetation, and develops rust and
+mould&mdash;never the crops that are life-giving and life-sustaining to the
+world; never the great thoughts, great deeds, wide sympathies, that raise
+mankind to the skies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But for Dudley the harrowing was not yet finished. Perhaps, indeed, no moment
+of all had been quite so bitter as the sense of his utter unworthiness and
+utter incapability to help Ethel in her hour of direst need.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The mere thought unnerved him for the little he might have done. He was so
+imbued with the idea of his helplessness, that he could only stammer a few
+broken sentences she seemed scarcely capable of hearing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had but one consolation. Towards the end, the sick man, suddenly opening his
+eyes, looked round for his sister, and seeing she was absent, had regarded
+Dudley with his whole face full of a question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley leant down to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, old chap,&rdquo; he asked tenderly. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ethel… chum… you will try and help her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Dudley, with his new understanding, had grasped all that the dying man
+hoped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I love her,&rdquo; he said very simply. &ldquo;I have been a blind fool,
+but I am awake now. I shall give my life to trying to win her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! thank God… thank God,&rdquo; Basil whispered. &ldquo;It is certain
+to come right some day&mdash;don&rsquo;t lose heart. You have made me very
+happy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He sank into stupor after that, and spoke no more, except for a whispered
+&ldquo;Chum&rdquo;, just before he died.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then it was that the full flood of Dudley&rsquo;s bitterness seemed to close in
+upon him, for his tortured mind translated Ethel&rsquo;s stunned grief into
+veiled antipathy to his presence; and when there was nothing left for him to
+see to, he went home for Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In his chair, with his head bowed on his hands, Hal thought he had aged years
+in the last three months.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Shall I go to Ethel?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes&mdash;will you? She doesn&rsquo;t want me. I feel as if she hated my
+being there now. But if you would go&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is your imagination, Dudley. Things have all got a little topsy-turvy
+since Doris went, but presently you will see you were mistaken. Don&rsquo;t
+lose heart too quickly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he refused to be comforted, and merely shook his head in silent desolation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll stay with her if she wants you?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ll stay&rdquo;; and she went away to get her hat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she mounted the stairs in Holloway, the door of Flat G opened as if some one
+within had been listening for her, and a stealthy head peeped out. Then a hand
+beckoned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal crossed the landing and went inside the door. The poor
+music-teacher&rsquo;s face was swollen almost past recognition with crying.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What am I to do?… what am I to do?&rdquo; she moaned, rocking herself
+backwards and forwards. &ldquo;There was only one thing in all the world that
+made my life worth living, and now it is gone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She sobbed bitterly for a few minutes, softened by Hal&rsquo;s sympathetic
+presence, then she told her brokenly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re all mourning. Every single soul in this dreary building.
+Considering he never left the flat, it&rsquo;s wonderful&mdash;wonderful; but
+he knew all the children, and they all knew him. And if you know the children
+you know the fathers and mothers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little Splodgkins, as we always called him, has been sitting like a
+small stone effigy on the stairs outside his door. He has patrolled the whole
+staircase for days, keeping the other children quiet. I told Mr. Hayward, and
+he sent him a message. He said, &lsquo;Tell him to grow up a fine man, and
+fight for his country, and not to forget me before we meet again.&rsquo; The
+little chap fought back his tears when I gave him the message, and he said:
+&lsquo;Tell him, I thaid dammit, tho I will.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But they&rsquo;re young, and they&rsquo;ve got each other, most of the
+other folks here, and I&rsquo;ve got nothing&mdash;nothing. Miss Pritchard, I
+can&rsquo;t go on again the same&mdash;I can&rsquo;t&mdash;I
+can&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must help Miss Hayward, at any rate for a time,&rdquo; Hal told her;
+&ldquo;if you didn&rsquo;t you would be failing him now; and even little
+Splodgkins doesn&rsquo;t mean to do that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, of course you&rsquo;re right. I can light the fire for her in the
+afternoon and put the kettle on. It isn&rsquo;t much to be alive for, but
+he&rsquo;d say it was worth while. He&rsquo;d say, &lsquo;What would she do
+without a G in the alphabet?&rsquo; wouldn&rsquo;t he? I must remember. And now
+you must go to her. It&rsquo;s worse for her than me, only that she&rsquo;s
+still got all her life before her, and she&rsquo;s very attractive, while I
+never seemed to please any one in my life but him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I must go now,&rdquo; Hal said; &ldquo;but I&rsquo;ll come and see
+you again. Come down east with me next Wednesdayn evening, to a social evening
+in the slums, will you? They&rsquo;re so interesting. We&rsquo;ll have tea
+together first. I&rsquo;ll arrange to take you, and then you&rsquo;ll meet
+Dick.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-bye for the present.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she crossed the landing, wondering with a sinking heart how she could ever
+hope to comfort Ethel.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap40"></a>CHAPTER XL</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was not until a spell of exhaustingly hot weather set in in early July that
+Hal saw a still more noticeable frailty in Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was quite unable to act, and spent a great deal of time on her sofa near
+the window, where she could just distinguish the river through the trees. It
+seemed to have a growing fascination for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve always thought,&rdquo; she told Hal one day, &ldquo;how
+I&rsquo;d like to go away from the fret and worry of London, smoothly down the
+river to a haven of sunshine and sea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you go, Lorry. Why not go at once, before you get any
+weaker?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I must. This sultry heat is too much for me, and I&rsquo;m very
+tired of London and everything belonging to it. I should like to have gone to
+my old haven on the Italian Riviera, but it would be too hot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why so far?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine glanced at Hal with a strange expression in her eyes, as she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is a greater rest to get right away. I shall try some little place in
+Brittany. Switzerland is so overrun with tourists in the summer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When she was alone, some of the quiet went out of Lorraine&rsquo;s face and a
+restless look of pain crept in. She shaded her eyes and gazed long at the
+river.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That old spirit of recklessness, which had caused her to hurl scorn and
+defiance at Mrs. Hermon&rsquo;s emissary, and afterwards allow Alymer to visit
+her at the little fishing-village, against his wiser judgment, had passed away
+now, and given place to one of poignant questioning&mdash;a spirit of
+questioning concerning that mad action of hers, and its results. She could not
+find it in her heart to regret it, not for one moment; but nevertheless her
+mind was sore troubled concerning the future for Alymer and herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And at the back of all the questioning there sounded ever an insistent call to
+renounce&mdash;something above and beyond all desire and all seeming, which
+told her she must not remain in his life, that, as far as she was concerned, he
+must be free for the great work of his future.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And yet how hard it was to go! Ever and anon her longing whispered, &ldquo;Why
+seek a crisis yet? Why not go on the same a little longer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But since, before long, she would be compelled to go, and since the nausea of
+London was gaining upon her, she began to feel it would certainly be wiser to
+start at once, and find some homely, quiet spot where she could remain in
+privacy, with her identity unknown for some months.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And always that quiet voice in the background insisted that she must cut
+herself off from Alymer Hermon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Soon after Hal had left her he came in, and, standing as usual upon the hearth,
+regarded her with grave eyes. He was nearly always grave now, as with some
+recollection that weighed heavily on his mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine tried to rally him, but without much success; and a pitiless thought
+that had sometimes assailed her of late&mdash;that he regretted their
+friendship and everything connected with it, struck icily on her heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was too loyal to show it, and yet, that strong instinct of womanhood, which
+reads closed books as if they were spread open to the light, sounded its
+warning note. He would never blame her openly, but in his heart he was already
+beginning to find it a little difficult not to do so secretly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t go away alone, Lorry,&rdquo; he said unhappily,
+&ldquo;and I can&rsquo;t possibly come with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; cheerfully. &ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t to
+be thought of for a moment. I don&rsquo;t know whether you can even come and
+see me. You certainly mustn&rsquo;t run any risks just now. Flip tells me Hall
+is interested, and you may get your big chance shortly through him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, I shall feel rather a beast.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t do anything so silly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She got up and came and stood near him, leaning her face against his arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you will write to me often, dearie, I shall be all right. If you
+worry I shall be miserable. Try to understand that you have done nothing to
+make me unhappy. A little while ago I had a dream of how I longed to go away
+with a little one of my own, to some quiet spot far removed from all I have
+ever known. If I am to realise my dream, how should I not be happy? It is what
+I asked life to give me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But his eyes lost none of their gravity. It was evident, in the midst of his
+dawning success, some cloud had descended upon his horizon, and shrouded much
+of the sunlight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine&rsquo;s sensitive temperament read it quickly, and she decided, for
+his sake, to hasten her departure. She thought her continued presence in London
+under the circumstances was a continual anxiety to him, and that he would only
+breathe freely when she was safe in Brittany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not know&mdash;how should she&mdash;that after that week&rsquo;s
+madness on the southern coast there had come rather a terrible revelation to
+the man whom fortune seemed to be smothering with favours.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had not come all at once. It had been there, or at any rate the gist of it,
+for some time. But when it was present in full force, it had the power to make
+all the adulation, triumph, and hopefulness of his career seem but a small
+thing and of little account, because of one great desire beyond his reach.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It came definitely into being during those many evenings Hal spent at the
+Cromwell Road flat, when Dudley was away in Holloway with his friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It reached a climax of realisation when she openly wore the watch and chain Sir
+Edwin had sent to her. The night he asked her not to wear it, and she tautingly
+refused, saw him, with all his success and favours, one of the most perplexed
+and unhappy men in London.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was just the waywardness of the little god Love. The fair débutantes with
+money and influence had left him untouched. No older woman but Lorraine had
+disturbed his peace, or appealed to his deepest affections.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was left to Hal, the mocker, the outspoken, the impatient of giant inches
+and splendid head, to awaken his heart to all its richness of strong, enduring
+love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And what did it mean to her?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sunshine and the joy might go out of all he was winning and achieving, if
+it might not be won and achieved for her&mdash;but what did she care&mdash;what
+was she ever likely to care?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had she not always dealt him laughter and careless scorn where other women
+bowed down? Had she not, over and over, weighed him in the balance, in that
+quiet, direct way of hers, and seen the weak strain that had always been there?
+First the lack of purpose, the idle indifference, which, in a different guise,
+had led up to a memory which now tortured his mind&mdash;the memory of a mad
+week; of love that was not love, because his whole soul was not given with
+it&mdash;nay, worse, was actually given in unconsciousness elsewhere. If she
+ever knew of that, what must her indignation and scorn be then?… Would it not
+indeed separate them for ever?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And even if it did, could it make him unlove her?… Why should it, since he had
+waited no encouragement before he gave her all? If he knew why he loved her, it
+might.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he did not even know that. It was a thing outside questioning; something he
+seemed to have had no free will about. It was just there&mdash;a strong,
+undeniable fact.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why reason? It did not <i>need</i> reasoning. He loved her. He would always
+love her&mdash;simply because she was Hal&mdash;and as Hal, to him, was the one
+woman who filled his heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No; Lorraine did not know just what fire of repentance and self-condemnation
+and hopeless aching her recklessness had lit for him; but it was enough that
+his gravity grew and deepened, and she believed she could lighten it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made immediate plans; cancelled her present engagement at considerable
+monetary loss to herself, and almost before any of them realised it, had
+vanished to a little out-of-the-way spot in Brittany, alone with Jean.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was quite unhappy that she could not go to her for her own summer holiday,
+but Dick Bruce&rsquo;s people were taking her to Norway with them, and she
+would not have a day to spare.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She made Alymer promise to run across and see how she was, if possible, and
+then departed without any suspicions or forebodings, with Dudley and Dick to
+join the rest of the party at Hull, whence they were to start for the Fiords.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When she returned early in September, Lorraine was still away, and her letters
+gave no hint of returning. Still a little anxious, she sought an interview with
+Alymer, asking him to meet her for tea the following day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The instant they met, Hal saw the change in him, and exclaimed in surprise:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you had a holiday? You don&rsquo;t look very grand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Unable to meet her eyes, he turned away towards a small table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh yes, I&rsquo;ve had a holiday. I&rsquo;ve been in France studying the
+language. I can talk like a French froggy now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then of course, you saw Lorraine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to see you about Lorry,&rdquo; with direct, straight gaze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He steadied his features with an effort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I guessed so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what is the matter with her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing very much. She got thoroughly low I think, and is not pulling up
+very quickly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand it,&rdquo; with puzzled, doubtful eyes.
+&ldquo;Lorry is not like that. She is quite strong really. She has only once
+before gone under like this, and then it was a mental strain. I wonder if it is
+anything the same again? Did you see much of her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw her four or five times.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And she didn&rsquo;t tell you anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anything about what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;about her husband, for instance. He isn&rsquo;t worrying her
+again, is he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She did not speak of him at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what is it?… I wish she had not gone so far away. I wish I could
+get to her. Did she say when she might be coming back?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at present. She likes being there. She does not want to come
+back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I can&rsquo;t understand. Something odd seems to have
+changed her. Have you thought so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think it odd in Lorraine to fancy a long spell of country
+life. She was always loved the country.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not alone,&rdquo; with decision, &ldquo;except for a good reason. I feel
+there is a reason now, and I do not know it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly she gave him another direct look.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are changed too. You are years older. Is it your advancing success,
+or what? … I don&rsquo;t say it isn&rsquo;t becoming,&rdquo; with a dash of her
+old banter&mdash;&ldquo;but it seems sudden.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He raised his eyes slowly and looked into her face with an expression that in
+some way hurt her. It was the look of a devoted dog, craving forgiveness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She pushed her cup away impatiently, half laughing and half serious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t look at me like that, Baby,&rdquo; striving blindly to rally
+him&mdash;&ldquo;you make me feel as if I had smacked you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He laughed to reassure her, and changed the subject to Norway, trying to keep
+her mind from further questioning concerning himself and Lorraine.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After tea she left him to go down to Shoreditch with Dick, first meeting him
+and the forlorn &ldquo;G&rdquo; at the Cheshire Cheese for their usual high
+tea.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had become quite an institution now that &ldquo;G&rdquo; should join them,
+and, as Hal had predicted, she and Dick were firm friends. It was the brightest
+spot of the music-teacher&rsquo;s life since Basil Hayward died, and neither of
+them would have disappointed her for the world if they could help it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tonight Quin was there also, so Hal was able to get a few words privately with
+Dick.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What in the world is the matter with Alymer?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I
+had tea with him this afternoon. He seems awfully down on his luck.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what it is,&rdquo; Dick answered. &ldquo;He is
+certainly not very gay&mdash;yet that last case he won before the Law Courts
+closed should have put him in fine feather for the whole vacation. Did you ask
+him if anything was wrong?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; but he would only prevaricate. He has been in France, you know,
+studying the language, and he saw Lorraine, but he says very little about her.
+I wish I had time to go over and see her. Why, in the name of goodness, is she
+not acting this winter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Dick could not help her to any solution, and an accumulation of work kept
+her too busy to brood on the puzzle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was at the end of October the shock came.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal reached home before Dudley that evening, and found a foreign letter
+awaiting her, written in an unfamiliar handwriting, and bearing the post mark
+of the little village where Lorraine so obstinately remained. With an instant
+sense of apprehension, she tore open the envelope, and read its contents with
+incredulity, amazement, and anxiety struggling together in her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she sat down in the nearest chair with a gasp, and stared blankly at the
+window, as if she could not grasp the import of the bewildering news.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The letter was from Jean, partly in French, and partly in English. It informed
+Hal, in somewhat ambiguous phrases, that La Chère Madame was very ill, and
+daily growing weaker, and she, Jean, was very worried and unhappy about her.
+She thought if mademoiselle could possibly get away, she should come at once.
+It then went on to make a statement which took Hal&rsquo;s breath away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;L&rsquo;enfant!... l&rsquo;enfant!...&rdquo; she repeated in a gasping
+sort of undertone, and stared with bewildered eyes at the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What could have happened?... What did it all mean?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then with a rush all the full significance seemed to come to her. Lorraine, ill
+and alone in that little far-away village, and this incomprehensible thing
+coming upon her; no one but a paid, though devoted maid to take care of her; no
+friend to help her in the inevitable hours of dread, and perhaps painful
+memories and apprehensions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All her quick, warm-hearted sympathy welled up and filled her soul. Of course
+she must go at once, tonight if possible, or early tomorrow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet as she struggled to collect her thoughts and form plans, she was conscious
+of a dumb, nervous cry: &ldquo;What will Dudley say?... What in the world will
+Dudley say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap41"></a>CHAPTER XLI</h2>
+
+<p>
+He came in while she was still trying to compose herself for the struggle she
+anticipated; and because she had not yet made any headway, he saw at once that
+something alarming had happened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced at the envelope lying on the table, then at the open letter in her
+hand, and then at her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the matter?... Have you had bad news?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For one dreadful moment, observing the foreign stamp, he thought something
+might have happened to Ethel, who was taking her month&rsquo;s holiday on the
+Continent. When Hal looked blankly into his face, as if quite unable to tell
+him, he added hurriedly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is your letter about Ethel?... Is she ill?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, it is not Ethel,&rdquo; Hal answered, noticing, in spite of her
+distress, his unconcealed anxiety. &ldquo;Some one is ill, but it is not
+Ethel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it Lorraine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spoke with quiet, kindly concern now, being reassured concerning the swift
+dread that had sized him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Hal said nervously. &ldquo;She is very ill. Dudley, I must
+go to her at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She got up as if she could not bear the strain seated, and moved away to the
+window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all rather terrible,&rdquo; speaking hurriedly; &ldquo;but
+don&rsquo;t... don&rsquo;t... be upset about it. I can&rsquo;t bear it. I
+<i>must</i> go, whatever you say, and I want you to help me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is the matter?&rdquo; He came close to her and tried to see her
+face. &ldquo;What has happened, Hal?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorry is in trouble.&rdquo; She was half crying now; &ldquo;I have had a
+letter from Jean. She has told me something I did not know. I did not even
+suspect it. But I must go. You will surely see that I must go, Dudley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me what it is,&rdquo; he said, in a voice so kind, she turned and
+looked into his face, almost in surprise. He met her eyes, and, reading all the
+distress there, he added:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be afraid, Hal. I know I was an awful prig a little while
+ago, but... but... it&rsquo;s not the same since Doris jilted me, and since
+Basil died. I see many things differently now. Tell me Lorraine&rsquo;s
+trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is so ill, because if she lives until next December she will have a
+little one. Oh, do you understand, Dudley? She is there all alone, because she
+made a mess of her life and is obliged to hide. I must go to her. You will help
+me, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She glanced at him doubtfully, and then a swift relief seemed to fill her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, certainly you must go,&rdquo; he said gravely; &ldquo;if Jean says
+she is ill now, I think you should go at once, and see for yourself just how
+things are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, how good of you. I was afraid you would be angry and object.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He smiled a little sadly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve enough money in hand for your ticket. You can catch the early
+boat train, and I&rsquo;ll send some more by tomorrow&rsquo;s post. Had you
+better see Mr. Elliott about being absent from the office for a day or two, or
+shall I see him in the morning?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He won&rsquo;t mind. I&rsquo;ve got everything straight since I came
+back, and Miss White will do my work for a day or two. If you would see him in
+the morning, and just tell him Miss Vivian is very ill and I was sent for. He
+knows what friends we are, and would understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. Now you must have some dinner, and get to bed, for you will
+have a long, anxious day tomorrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a sudden rush of feeling, she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so grateful,&rdquo; she said, in a quivering voice. &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t tell you. It has all come upon me as a shock. I had not the
+faintest suspicion.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not natural to him to be demonstrative, and he only turned away with a
+slight embarrassment, saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you hadn&rsquo;t. But I feel I can trust you now, Hal, to
+be discreet as well as quixotic. Your mission, if one can call it such, will
+need both.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he sought to distract her mind for the present, and while they dined he
+talked of many things to interest her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know that Alymer Hermon has just got the chance of his
+life?&rdquo; he told her, before they rose. &ldquo;I heard today he is to
+appear with Hall in this big libel case. Sir James Jameson told me at the Club.
+He said Hall had taken a great fancy to him, and if he does really well over
+this case he&rsquo;s going to take him up. He is very fortunate. Not one man in
+a thousand would get such a chance at his age. I hope he will do well; I like
+him; and if he isn&rsquo;t a success over this he may never get such an
+opportunity again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When does the case come on?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Almost at once, I think, but it probably will not last more than two or
+three days.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Hal said good-night to him, she remarked shyly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard from Ethel last night. She loves the Austrian Tyrol. She said
+she hoped you were better for your trip to Norway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His forehead contracted a little, and he did not look up from the book he had
+just opened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is she better herself? Is she any happier?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked thoughtfully into the fire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think she is very lonely. I don&rsquo;t think she will be much happier
+until... until... there is some one to take Basil&rsquo;s place.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No one can do that.&rdquo; He spoke a little shortly. &ldquo;Basil was a
+hero. I do not know how she is ever to love a lesser man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If she loved a man, she would easily see heroic qualities in him. She
+could not love a man who was without them; but that does not mean he need
+actually be a hero by any means.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She longed to say more, but was diffident of doing greater harm than good. At
+last she ventured:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have sometimes thought she has a warm corner in her heart for you,
+Dudley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For me!...&rdquo; He gave a low, harsh laugh for very misery.
+&ldquo;No; she despises me. She has done for some time. I&rsquo;m sorry.
+I&rsquo;d change it if I could, but it&rsquo;s too late now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal moved towards the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is rather a slur on Ethel to suggest that she could possibly despise
+Basil&rsquo;s best friend. Don&rsquo;t let an idea like that take root, Dudley.
+&lsquo;Lookers on see most of the game,&rsquo; you know, and what I have seen
+has suggested quite differently. Good-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-night. Try to sleep. I&rsquo;ll take you to Charing Cross
+myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning Hal started off alone, to find her way to Lorraine&rsquo;s
+hiding-place, and give her what comfort of friendship she could.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And all the time she asked herself with harried thoughts, &ldquo;Who has
+brought this trouble into Lorraine&rsquo;s life?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And at the back of her mind was the dread premonition &ldquo;Was it indeed
+Alymer Hermon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap42"></a>CHAPTER XLII</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Hal first saw her old friend she was almost too shocked for words at the
+swift change in her. Lorraine tried hard to smile cheerfully, but she could not
+hide any longer from herself how seriously ill she had grown, and she felt it
+useless to try and hide it from Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jean had not told her of the letter, and she knew nothing of Hal&rsquo;s coming
+until she was actually in the house. When she saw her, she could have cried for
+gladness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How good of you, Hal… how good of you!&rdquo; she breathed, and Hal, on
+her knees by the couch, in an unsteady voice replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, why didn&rsquo;t you send for me sooner? Why didn&rsquo;t you let me
+come here instead of going to Norway?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An hour later she went out to the little post office, and wired to London to
+know if she might remain away for a week.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was evident Lorraine was very ill indeed and needing the utmost care.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+During the day she seemed to grow steadily worse, and she could not bear Hal
+out of her sight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether you are shocked or not,&rdquo; she said to
+her once, &ldquo;but if everything goes all right I shall not regret what I
+have done for one moment. I wanted something more real for the rest of my life
+than I have had in its beginning.&rdquo; Her voice dropped to a whisper.
+&ldquo;I wanted his child to live for.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a caressing hand on the sick woman&rsquo;s, Hal asked in a low voice:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why isn&rsquo;t he here taking care of you now? Where is your
+child&rsquo;s father?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A swift surprise passed through Lorraine&rsquo;s eyes, as if it had not occured
+to her Hal would not know the truth. Then she said, very softly,
+&ldquo;Alymer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The exclamation seemed wrung from Hal unconsciously, and after it her lips grew
+strangely rigid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal,&rdquo; Lorraine said weakly, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve loved Alymer almost
+ever since I first saw him. I swore I would not harm his career, and I have
+not. I will not in future. But the child is his, and I thank God for it. I do
+not believe an illegitimate child with a devoted mother is any worse off than
+the legitimate child with a selfish, unloving one. That there is love enough
+matters the most. What can any child have better than a life&rsquo;s
+devotion?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Later on she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is his great week, Hal. In his last letter he tells me his big
+chance has come at last through Sir Philip Hall. We always hoped it would. It
+is the big libel case, and if Sir Philip chooses he can let him take a very
+prominent part. He will, I am sure of it. He is very interested in him, and he
+has given him this chance on purpose. Flip thinks it will lead to a great deal;
+and of course if so it is splendid for him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal said very little. She was overcome at the revelation Lorraine had made, and
+seemed quite unable to grasp it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Meanwhile she waited fearfully for the crisis the doctor had told her was
+impending. She was expecting him to call again, and was relieved when at last
+he arrived bringing a pleasant-faced French nurse with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She relinquished her post then, and waited for him anxiously downstairs. When
+he came he told her he must have another opinion at once, and Hal knew that
+something serious was wrong, and that he feared the worst.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next morning, when she saw Lorraine again, she understood that they had
+saved her life, but probably only for a few days at the most.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine was almost too weak to speak, but she looked into Hal&rsquo;s eyes,
+and in her own there was a dumb imploring. Hal leant down and murmured:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it, Lorry?… Do you want Alymer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the faint whisper. &ldquo;I feel it is the end. I want
+so much to see him once more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will go to London myself, and fetch him,&rdquo; Hal said, and a look
+of rest crept into the dying woman&rsquo;s eyes.
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>
+So it happened that the day before the great libel case Hal stood in
+Hermon&rsquo;s chambers, and delivered her message.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a tense moment&mdash;a moment of warring instincts, warring
+inclinations, conflicting fates. It was surely the very irony of ironies, that
+within sight of his goal, with all this woman had manoeuvred to give him almost
+in his hands, she should be the one to step suddenly between him and the
+realisation of everything his life had striven for.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To fail Sir Philip Hall at the eleventh hour, under such circumstance, could
+only mean an irreparable disaster. He would lose, as far as his profession was
+concerned, in every single way. It would strike a blow at his progress, from
+which it might never wholly recover.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No wonder, confronted with the sudden demand life had flung at him, he stood
+stock still, with rigid face, almost overcome by the swift sword-thrust of
+fate, and made no reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Since Hal told him, in a few, rather abrupt words, her story, he had scarcely
+looked at her. When she first entered his room so unexpectedly, his eyes had
+searched her face as if he would read instantly what she had come for?… what
+she had learnt?… Before hers, his gaze fell.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have come from Lorraine,&rdquo; she said, and he understood that she
+knew all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A dull red crept over his face and neck, and then died away, leaving him of an
+ashy paleness. He was standing by his desk, and he reached out one hand and
+rested it on some books, gripping the backs of them with a grip that made his
+knuckles stand out like white knots. He did not ask Hal to sit down.
+Commonplace amenities died in the stress of the moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She stood in the middle of the room, very straight and very still. In a
+close-fitting travelling-dress she looked unusually slim, almost boyish, and
+something about her attitude rather suggested a youthful knight, sword in hand,
+come with vengeance to the Transgressor. Yet, even in his shame and stunned
+perplexity, Hermon lost no shred of dignity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He towered above her, with bend head, rigid, white face, grave, downcast eyes,
+and in spite of every reproach her attitude seemed to hurl at him, he yet wore
+the look of nobility that was his birthright.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When do you think I should go?&rdquo; he asked at last, with difficulty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We ought to cross tonight.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tonight!&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;have a very important case tomorrow. It
+will not last long. It matters a great deal.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; was the short, uncompromising answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked up with a swift glance of inquiry. Then he said quietly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know that it may wreck my future to leave London tonight?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Hal. &ldquo;I know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And after all Lorraine did not help me to this hour of success, am I to
+throw away my chance?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine is dying. Her dying wish is to see you once more. Is it
+necessary to discuss anything else?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again there was silence between them&mdash;silence so intense, so poignant, it
+was like a live thing present in the room. Through the double windows came a
+far-off, muffled sound of the traffic in the Strand, but it seemed to have
+nothing whatever to do with the life of that quiet room. It did not disturb the
+silence, in which one could almost hear pulse beats. It belonged to another
+world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once Alymer raised his head and looked hard into her face. In his eyes there
+was an expression of utter hopelessness. She had not spoken any word of
+reproach or scorn, yet everything about her as she stood there erect and
+passionless, and without one grain of sympathy for his struggle, told him that,
+just as far as her natural broadness allowed her to condemn any one, she
+condemned him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a moment a sort of savage recklessness seized him. He felt suddenly he was
+stranded high-and-dry on a barren rock, with nothing at all any more in his
+world but his profession. He had lost all hope of ever winning Hal, which
+seemed to be all hope of anything worth having. Nothing remained but the hollow
+interest of a great name, and the lust of power. He had it in his mind for
+those brief, passionate moments, because he had lost all else, to insist upon
+taking his chance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Even one day&rsquo;s grace might save him. The trial would perhaps last not
+more than two, but in any case, a wire reaching him in the middle, which he
+could show to Sir Philip, might mean all the difference between success and
+failure. The wire could be worded to hide what was truly involved, and the plea
+of a life-and-death urgency would set him free without any awkward questioning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He glanced up to speak, and once again Hal&rsquo;s attitude arrested him. She
+looked so young, so fresh, so true, so vaguely splendid, in spite of the rigid
+lips that seemed to have closed down tightly upon all she must have suffered in
+the last forty-eight hours.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was not looking at him now, but, with her head thrown back a little, she
+gazed silently and fatefully at the clock on his mantelpiece.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And something about her called to him, with the calling of the great,
+mysterious things, a calling that shamed and scorned that spirit of savage
+recklessness; that swift, relentless lust of power.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is anything in the world,&rdquo; it seemed to cry, &ldquo;compared
+to being true to one&rsquo;s friend; true to one&rsquo;s word; true to
+one&rsquo;s love?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He saw suddenly that in any case success and triumph would bring him little
+enough to gladden his heart; that whichever way he turned was gloom and
+darkness; that in that gloom a possible ray of light might still linger, if he
+could keep always the consciousness that, at the most critical hour of his
+life, he had rung true.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He raised his eyes suddenly, and straightened himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What time does the next train leave?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am
+coming.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap43"></a>CHAPTER XLIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+After Hal had left, Lorraine sank into a stupor from weakness, and remained
+thus until towards evening. Then she revived, and seemed to comprehend better
+all that had happened; all that was happening still.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She knew that the child she had dreamed of would never lie in her arms and look
+up at her with Alymer&rsquo;s eyes. She knew that in the first awful moments of
+realisation, and deathly weakness, her whole soul had so craved to see Alymer
+again that she had asked for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A few moments later the stupor had come down upon her exhausted senses, and
+without any further word or thought from her, Hal had gone on her errand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At first, in the darkened room where she had suffered so much, she remembered
+only that very soon Alymer might be with her. And the thought, while it
+quickened her pulses, yet made her feel almost faint with the longing for him
+to come quickly. What if they were delayed, and this terrible weakness took her
+away from him without a last meeting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The thought that death was approaching did not frighten her. She rather
+welcomed it. When she left London in the summer, she had felt that she could
+never go back. She had already fixed in her mind the picture of the quiet
+haven, where she would live restfully with Alymer&rsquo;s child&mdash;far away
+from the turmoil that had marked her life almost from its earliest beginning,
+and safe from slander.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She did not mind for herself. The things that most women valued, no longer held
+much meaning for her. She had experienced more than most; learned more than
+most how empty success and triumph may become; sounded for herself the
+shallowness of many things that society regards as prizes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had been tired for a long time. Now the tiredness had reached a climax. If
+the quiet haven might not bless her life, it was, on the whole, better that she
+should die.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This quiet fatalism only increased her longing to see Alymer once more. It was
+the one thing in all existence left to long for. It merged every remaining
+faculty into one desire. And Hal would bring him. Hal never failed any one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then came the night, and instead of a quiet sleep, restlessness seized her. The
+recollection of the lawsuit which was to make Alymer&rsquo;s name once for all,
+came back again and again with merciless insistence, fighting like some
+desperate thing that last, one, great desire. Try as she would to smother it,
+after a little period of rest it came back stronger than ever.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In vain she told herself that when he knew she was dying he would have no wish
+but to hasten to her. In vain, she said also, that success would no longer mean
+all it had done; that with love crying to him from a death-bed, he would
+understand its emptiness and scorn it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another voice, the voice of her truest self, answered: &ldquo;Ah! but he is
+young. Remember he is young&mdash;young&mdash;young&mdash;and you, when you
+were his age, cared terribly to succeed. You say now that success is empty, but
+at least you had the satisfaction of learning the fact for yourself. You did
+not have to take another&rsquo;s word for it, and let your chance pass you by,
+just at the moment of grasping it. If he is to be left without you, what will
+he have then to make up for the great moment lost?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, worse&mdash;what will he have left to spur him to try and regain
+his proud position, and go on up the heights of fame? And for you, of all
+people, to deal this blow to his future&mdash;the ambitious future which you
+yourself have fostered and nourished with such care.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hours wore on, and still, in spite of the awful physical exhaustion, the
+mental battle raged, draining away strength that should have been carefully
+nursed for each bad hour of many days ahead. The nurse watched beside her with
+growing alarm, seeing the feverishness and restlessness, where absolute quiet
+was imperative.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At last she went to her softly, and said, in a sweet, low voice:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Madame is in trouble. Madame is fretting. It is not good. Madame must
+try to rest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lorraine turned her feverish, pain-driven eyes to the kindly face, with a look
+of beseeching, but she made no reply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The nurse laid her cool hand on the burning forehead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Madame is not a Catholic, but the priest brings healing to all. Shall I
+ask him to come and pray, that peace may be given to the sick mind?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I cannot confess,&rdquo; Lorraine breathed a little gaspingly. &ldquo;I
+could not bring myself to it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not necessary. The priest will come to pray if madame
+wishes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the low response; &ldquo;please ask him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little old man who took care of the souls of the little old-world village,
+and had done for three parts of a century, came to her at once, with a womanly
+tenderness in his face. In a low voice he blessed her, and then knelt down and
+prayed quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a time, some of the anguish died out of Lorraine&rsquo;s eyes. She turned
+to him weakly and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not a Catholic. I do not know if I am anything, but I want to ask
+you something. If one has sinned, and led another astray, might an act of
+renunciation perhaps save that other from the consequences of the sin that was
+not his?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Self-sacrifice and renunciation are ever pleasing to God,&rdquo; he told
+her simply. &ldquo;He knows that whatever else there is in a heart, with
+self-sacrifice there is also purity and nobility.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I thought I alone need bear the consequences, I think I could do
+anything,&rdquo; she whispered&mdash;&ldquo;bear anything, renounce
+anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again the quiet soothing of a prayer fell on her ears. She listened, and heard
+the old priest praying God and the Holy Virgin to help her to find the courage
+for the sacrifice her heart called for, that if she were about to enter the
+presence of the Most High, she might take with her the cleansing of repentance
+and a self-sacrificing spirit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She lay still for some little time listening to the soft cadence of his voice,
+and then she opened her eyes and looked at him with a full, sweet look.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will do it, Father,&rdquo; she said to him. &ldquo;Perhaps, if God
+understands everything, He will let my anguish of renunciation absolve that
+other from all sin. It is the most I have to ask of all the powers in heaven
+and earth.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Holy Mother comfort you, my child,&rdquo; he said; and with an
+earnest benediction left her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Lorraine motioned to the French nurse that she wanted her, and gathering
+all her remaining strength asked for a telegraph form and pencil. The nurse
+supported her in her arms, while with a trembling hand she traced faintly the
+words of her message. It ran:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+&ldquo;Marked change for the better. No need for haste. Come in a few
+days.&mdash;L<small>ORRAINE</small>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was addressed to Alymer Hermon, at The Middle Temple.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please take it now at once,&rdquo; she said. She knew that the
+Frenchwoman could not read English, and that Jean was not yet awake.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap44"></a>CHAPTER XLIV</h2>
+
+<p>
+In Alymer&rsquo;s room at the Middle Temple he and Hal were making their
+arrangements to catch the next boat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment he had spoken his decision she had turned to him with a swift
+expression of approval, but, for the rest, her manner was somewhat curt and
+business-like, and showed little of the old friendliness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It made him feel that, as far as she was concerned, he had sinned past
+forgiveness; and he knew with that unerring instinct that sometimes illumines a
+wrong action, that she judged him harshly because she knew he had not loved
+Lorraine with all his strength. How then could he ever hope to tell her that
+one reason he had not loved Lorraine thus was because, unconsciously, another
+woman had won his heart; further, that that other woman was herself?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No; of course the day would never dawn when he would dare to tell her that. An
+eternity separated them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he tried not to think of it now; to remember only that Lorraine, his best
+friend and his benefactress, was dying, and that she had sent Hal to fetch him
+to her side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His face was very grave, and he looked white and ill as Hal explained what time
+he must meet her at the station, but he gave no sign of flinching; no triumph
+in the world could now weaken his resolution.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, that is all arranged,&rdquo; said Hal, and at that moment
+there was a knock at the door. Alymer crossed the room and opened it himself,
+and was handed a telegram. He read it, looked for a moment as if he could not
+grasp it, then, telling the bearer there was no reply, closed the door, went
+back to Hal, and handed it to her without a word.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal read, half aloud:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+&ldquo;Marked change for the better. No need for haste. Come in a few
+days.&mdash;L<small>ORRAINE</small>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For some moments there was only silence, and then she looked at him with
+troubled, perplexed eyes, and said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t quite know what to make of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t it mean that she has passed some crisis and will
+live?&rdquo; he suggested. &ldquo;I think it must.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal still looked doubtful; and at that moment there was another knock at the
+door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again Alymer opened it himself. &ldquo;Lord Denton particularly wishes to see
+you,&rdquo; he was told.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Show him in at once,&rdquo; he replied, and turned to tell Hal who was
+coming.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Flip Denton had come to inquire for more detailed news of Lorraine than he
+could get from her letters. He gathered from them that she was remaining away
+for the whole winter theatrical season, because her health was bad; but any
+suggestion on his part to run over to Brittany and see her was persistently
+negatived. Finally he had come to Alymer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moment he saw them he knew that something serious was wrong, and that it
+concerned Lorraine. But when, after learning she was very ill, he asked Hal
+what was the matter, and saw the scarlet blood flame into her face, he said no
+more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was with her yesterday,&rdquo; she told him, &ldquo;and the doctor
+said he feared she would not live many days. She wanted Alymer, and I came over
+to fetch him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you are going at once?&rdquo; Denton asked him, with a curious
+expression in his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have arranged to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t your great case come on this afternoon, or tomorrow
+morning?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Denton&rsquo;s grave face did not change. &ldquo;I see,&rdquo; he said, and
+turned a little aside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Hal, who had the telegram in her hand, held it out to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This has just come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He read it, and his face cleared joyously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, that is splendid news&mdash;don&rsquo;t you think so?&rdquo; And he
+regarded Hal with a slightly puzzled air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know what to think,&rdquo; Hal said. &ldquo;Yesterday she was
+very ill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, but you had to leave early,&rdquo; reassuringly, &ldquo;and she may
+have been gaining strength all the afternoon, and had a very good night. What
+are you going to do?&rdquo; looking at Alymer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer looked at Hal, and waited for her decision.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal only looked doubtful and troubled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you should stay for the lawsuit,&rdquo; Denton said, to help
+her. &ldquo;It is evident that Lorraine wished it, and she of all people would
+not have Hermon miss such a chance if possible. I understood Hall it was only
+likely to last two or three days. He has some clinching evidence, I
+think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That is so,&rdquo; Alymer answered gravely; but he still waited to take
+his cue from Hal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You think he should stay for it?&rdquo; Hal asked Lord Denton.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I certainly think that is what Lorraine would wish him to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal commenced to pull on her gloves as if there were no more to say, and then
+Denton asked her:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you wait too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; I am going back by the next boat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will come with you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She glanced at him with slight alarm, and then at Alymer. Denton saw the look
+and seemed surprised. Hal&rsquo;s eyes asked Alymer what they were to do. He
+spoke with an effort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I expect Miss Vivian would be glad to see so old and great a friend as
+Lord Denton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course she would,&rdquo; he said decidedly&mdash;and to Hal:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What time do we leave Charing Cross?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>
+Hal spoke very little on the journey. A nameless dread weighed on her spirit,
+and a haunting fear for Lorraine. She was oppressed by a sense of deep sadness
+for the brilliant, succesful woman she had loved since her school days, who was
+now, after all her triumphs, alone in that little foreign village, caught in a
+maze of tangles and perplexities which offered no peaceful solution.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She could not understand Alymer&rsquo;s part at all, but she was convinced
+Lorraine&rsquo;s absorbing devotion to him was not reciprocated in like manner.
+If Lorraine learnt this as soon as she recovered, what did the future hold for
+her again but more vain dreams, and bitter hopes that could never see
+fulfilment?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She felt a little pitifully that life was very hard and difficult, even when
+one had a fine courage and will to face it; and a leaden pall of sorrow seemed
+to fold itself round her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What of Dudley and his hopeless love? Ethel and her inconsolable grief? Sir
+Edwin, and his secret bitterness? the gaunt music-teacher and her barren,
+joyless life?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Across her mind passed some lines, that had a strong attraction for her:
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;So many gods, so many creeds,<br/>
+so many paths that wind and wind,<br/>
+And just the art of being kind<br/>
+Is all the sad world needs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ah! in truth it was a sad world first of all; a sad, sad world in need of
+kindness and comfort. One could but go on trying to be kind, trying to be
+strong.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the only thing in a life of pitfalls and easily made mistakes, to just
+march straight forward&mdash;eyes front&mdash;and not let anything daunt
+permanently. She felt, more profoundly than ever, it was not wise to turn
+aside, looking to right and left, questioning overmuch of right and wrong,
+probing into the actions of others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Each human being was as a soldier in a vast army, and all were there under the
+same colours, led by the same general, to bear, with what courage they could,
+the fortunes of war. Two might be standing together, and one be wounded and the
+other untouched; many disabled, and many unhurt; some left on the field to die,
+others found and nursed back to life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the soldier was not there to question. If a comrade fell, it was no concern
+of his how he fell&mdash;his concern was to try and help him to safety, then go
+back and fight again, undismayed if his place was but a little insignificant
+one in the smoke and dust, unseen by any but a near neighbour perhaps as
+insignificant as himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That was the true spirit of the great soldier, whether he was in the ranks,
+lost in the smoke, or whether, on a magnificent charger, he led gloriously for
+all the world to see.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She remembered the change in Dudley, which had led him so quickly to respond to
+her cry, and refrain from judging. He was seeing things in that light also,
+learning to fight his own fight as pluckily as he could, and only to look upon
+the warfare of others as one ready to help them if it chanced that he was
+able&mdash;learning in place of rules and precepts, &ldquo;just the art of
+being kind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, together perhaps they could help Lorraine&mdash;if she came out of this
+last encounter bruised and broken.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then they arrived, and she and Lord Denton hastened down the short road to the
+little green-shuttered house. At the sound of the latch on the gate the door
+opened quietly, and Jean, with tears streaming down her face, came towards
+them, choking back gasping sobs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal stood still a second, and then ran forward blindly with outstretched hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She is better, Jean&mdash;say she is better. Oh, she must be, she must;
+she wired yesterday to say there was great improveent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Jean broke down into helpless weeping as she sobbed out:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She died this morning at six o&rsquo;clock.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For one moment Hal seemed too stunned to understand; then she swayed, and fell
+heavily into Denton&rsquo;s arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Later when she had recovered, Jean told them of the restless, nerve-racking
+night; of the priest&rsquo;s visit, and of the fast-ebbing strength gathered
+together to write some message the nurse had taken to the post office. After
+that extreme exhaustion had set in, greatly aggravated by the mental stress,
+and they could only watch her sinking from hour to hour.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She only roused once more,&rdquo; Jean said, &ldquo;and that was to try
+and write a message for you. I have it there,&rdquo; and she produced a little
+folded note.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In faint, tremulous words Hal read:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+&ldquo;Good-bye, darling Hal. It is hard to be without you now, but you will
+inderstand why I sent the message. I want to tell you it has never been
+Alymer&rsquo;s fault; do not blame him. I ask it of you. At the last hour I
+have made what reparation I could. Don&rsquo;t grieve for me. I have made so
+many mistakes, and now I am too tired to go on. Give my dear, dear love to
+Alymer, and say good-bye to Flip and mother. I am not unhappy now&mdash;only
+very, very tired.
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+&ldquo;Your own          <br/>
+&ldquo;L<small>ORRY</small>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the first time since she had recovered from her faint, Hal broke down, and
+Jean and Denton went quietly away, knowing it would be better for her
+afterwards, and left her sobbing her heart out over her letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two days later, flying the colours of a great victory, and flushed with the
+pleasure of warm congratulations poured upon him from all sides, Alymer Hermon
+stepped out upon the little station.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had never doubted the truth of the message, and he carried his head a little
+higher and his shoulders a little squarer, proud and glad to come to Lorraine
+with the news of his greatest success, and tell her of the proud position he
+had won almost solely through her. For had she not first imbued him with
+ambition and the real desire to achieve, and then, at exactly the right moment,
+procured him the first little success that meant so much?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The instant he knew the great case was won, he had dashed out of the court,
+scribbled her a hurried wire, and driven frantically to Charing Cross,
+meditating a special train to Dover, if he were too late. He was not, though
+the guard was just about to give the signal for departure, and the boat-train
+bore him from the station, full of that glad consciousness of a great
+achievement, to carry the news instantly to her feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the little station in Brittany Denton was waiting for him. And when Alymer
+saw him the light faded out of his eyes, and the smile from his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She died before we got there,&rdquo; Denton told him. &ldquo;We
+daren&rsquo;t let you know, because she sent that message, on purpose to give
+you your chance in the case.&rdquo; Then, very kindly: &ldquo;Sit down, old
+chap. There&rsquo;s no hurry. Wait and rest a while here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer sat down on the little wooden station bench, and buried his face in his
+hands.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap45"></a>CHAPTER XLV</h2>
+
+<p>
+It would seem sometimes that Life has a way of keeping the balance between joy
+and pain, by making that which is a source of deepest sorrow to one the
+unlooked-for instrument of great joy to another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was so with the sorrow that came down like a cloud upon Hal&rsquo;s spirit,
+while she was yet striving bravely not to allow herself to fret over Sir
+Edwin&rsquo;s perfidy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was not until after Hermon&rsquo;s arrival that the announcement of
+Lorraine&rsquo;s death was sent to the papers. After an anxious consultation,
+Hal and Denton had decided she would have expressly wished nothing to be done
+which might bring the news to Alymer before his case was over, and so, while
+making all preparations for the funeral, they refrained from any announcement
+in the home papers. Directly he arrived, the notice was dispatched.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ethel Hayward, returning from her holiday to the dreary, empty Holloway flat,
+read it in the train as she journeyed. Instantly her mind was full of Hal. She
+felt that in losing the one great woman friend of her life Hal would seem to
+have lost mother, sister, and friend in one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went home to the emptiness of the flat, with her heart so full of aching
+sympathy that some of the bitterness of her own loss was softened. On her
+sitting-room table was a beautiful array of flowers. She looked at them with
+soft eyes, believing Hal had sent them, and her tenderness made her long to
+hold the girl in her arms and try to bring her a little comfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a restless, troubled half-hour, she decided to go to her. She remembered
+it was the evening Dudley usually spent at the Imperial Institute, and she
+thought it almost certain Hal would be alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She dreaded going if Dudley was likely to be there, as the constraint between
+them was a misery to her, but she believed he was obliged to be out,
+remembering how he had always been engaged on Fridays during his engagement,
+and she took her courage in her hands for Hal&rsquo;s sake, and went to the
+Bloomsbury rooms for the first time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The maid who opened the door was just going out, and being somewhat hurried,
+did not trouble to note whether she asked for Mr. Pritchard or Miss Pritchard,
+merely standing for her to come in, and then showing her into the sitting-room
+without properly announcing her, she hastened away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Ethel unexpectedly found herself face to face with Dudley, alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was so astonished, that for a moment he seemed unable to rise, merely gazing
+at her with incredulous eyes, as if he thought he must be dreaming.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the past hour he had sat with a book on his knee, without having read a
+line, for all the time his thoughts had been with her. He knew she had returned
+that night to her empty, desolate home. He had sent the flowers up himself, to
+try and mitigate the emptiness and lack of welcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had longed to go to the station to meet her, if only to look after her
+luggage and see her safely into a cab. He hated to think of her arriving alone,
+and departing alone to that empty flat. His utter helplessness to do anything
+for her, when all his soul ached to do all, tore at his heart, and thrust
+mercilessly upon him again and again his blindness and folly in the past.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then suddenly, in the midst of it, without any warning, she stood there in
+the room, looking at him with startled, abashed eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No wonder, with a sense of non-comprehension, joy leapt to his own,
+transforming the white, unhappy gravity of his face to swift, questioning
+eagerness; while at the same time he breathed tensely, &ldquo;Ethel!…
+you!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name, and in spite of her
+confusion she could not fail to hear the ring of gladness, of intense, almost
+unbelievable joy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It sent the blood rushing to her white cheeks, and made her heart beat wildly.
+She moved forward a little unsteadily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I saw about Miss Vivian&rsquo;s death today, and I was afraid Hal would
+be all alone fretting… so I came to see&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She broke off. Something like a sudden appeal in his eyes was unnerving her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dudley only heard vaguely what she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she came forward he had seen that she was rather overcome; he had seen the
+quick scarlet in her face, followed by a striking parlor, and the bewildered
+surprise in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What was it Hal had said that evening before she left? He could not remember,
+but he knew it meant that she did not think Ethel indifferent to him as he
+believed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He knew she had meant more, but he had not dared to dwell upon it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stood up, but did not move towards her. Instead, he just stood looking,
+looking into her eyes. Hers fell, and again the quick colour came and went.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hal is not here,&rdquo; he said simply; &ldquo;she went to Miss Vivian
+last week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I am glad. I was afraid she had not had time. I thought, when I saw
+the flowers…&rdquo; An idea seemed to strike her suddenly. She looked at him,
+and her eyes were full of a question she could not ask. &ldquo;I thought only
+Hal knew I should be returning today.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew,&rdquo; he said simply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you… did you…&rdquo; she was at a loss to finish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This hesitating nervousness was new to him. He had never seen her before other
+than calmly self-possessed. It called, with swift-calling, to his natural
+masculine strength and masculine protectiveness. It enabled him to grow sure of
+himself, and strong.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I sent the flowers,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;I wanted badly to
+come to the station to meet you, but I was afraid you might think it an
+impertinence.&rdquo; He came a little nearer. &ldquo;Sould you have thought
+so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and she said shyly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should have thought it very kind of you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am always wanting to do things for you,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and I
+am always afraid I shall only vex you. And I wouldn&rsquo;t vex you for the
+world,&rdquo; in a low, fervent voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again she gave him a swift, shy, questioning glance, and he grew bolder still.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He came closer, and stood beside her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Most of all, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart and
+soul and strength, and, until this moment, I have been afraid that that would
+vex you too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She raised her eyes then, swimming in sudden tears of gladness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it doesn&rsquo;t?…&rdquo; he said eagerly, &ldquo;you… you… Oh,
+Ethel! is it possible you would like me to say it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It has been possible a long time, Dudley, but I did not think it would
+ever be said.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took her hands in his and kissed first one and then the other. For the
+moment he was too overwhelmed at the suddenness of his joy to understand it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you despised me,&rdquo; he breathed. &ldquo;It did not seem
+possible you could do anything else; but Hal said I was wrong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She smiled faintly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; Hal knew,&rdquo; she told him. &ldquo;I think she has known some
+time.&rdquo; Then she seemed to sway a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are tired out,&rdquo; he exclaimed in quick commiseration.
+&ldquo;What a brute I am, letting you stand all this time, after your long
+journey too! I have told myself over and over how I would take care of you if I
+might, and this is how I begin! Forgive me&mdash;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He gently pushed her towards his own big chair, and when she had sunk down in
+it, fetched a cushion and a footstool. She leaned back wearily, looking up at
+him with eyes that were full of deep joy, if not yet emancipated from their
+long, long vigil of sorrow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is this all true, or am I dreaming? Yesterday&mdash;an hour ago&mdash;I
+thought it could never happen at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was kneeling on one knee beside her now, holding her hand against his face
+for the comfort of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was thinking of you when you came. I am always thinking of you. My
+whole life is like a long thought of you. I was afraid it would never become
+any more. Since I grew to know myself better, it has never seemed possible any
+one like you could care for such as I.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gave him her other hand confidingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I have always cared, Dudley. Beside Basil, there has never been
+any one else who counted very much at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was good to be sitting there together by a fireside. So good indeed that it
+swept everything away that had stood between them, with swift, generous
+sweeping. There had been nothing real in the barrier, scarcely anything that
+needed explaining, only the foolish imaginings of two hearts that had become
+imbued with wrong impressions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought I loved Doris,&rdquo; he told her, still caressing her hand;
+&ldquo;but afterwards it was like a pale fancy to my love for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was terrified lest she should wreck both your lives,&rdquo; She
+answered. &ldquo;She cared so much for money, and the things money can buy.
+Without it, she might have grown bitter and hard and reckless. With it, she wil
+grow kinder, I think. She felt Basil&rsquo;s death very much. She shed the most
+genuine tears she has ever shed in her life. Dudley, if Basil had known that
+this was coming, it would have been a great comfort to him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He did know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He knew!…&rdquo; in surprise. &ldquo;How could he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told him. I saw he was fretting very much about you, and I guessed
+what was in his mind. I told him I loved you better than my life; and he said:
+&lsquo;Thank God, it will all come right some day.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, I am glad that he knew. Dear Basil, dear Basil. If he had been less
+splendid, Dudley, I think I should have taken my own life when he died and left
+me alone. But in the face of courage like his, one could not be a
+coward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Later Dudley took her home. At the door he asked her pleadingly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I came in for a moment? I want to see the flat as it looks
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She led the way, and they stood together in the little sitting-room where Basil
+had lived and died, and where Dudley&rsquo;s flowers now shed a fragrance of
+welcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She buried her face in the delicate petals, with memories, and thoughts, and
+feelings too deep for words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It feels almost as if his spirit were here with us now,&rdquo; he said
+softly. &ldquo;He was so sure he was only going to a grander and wider life. I
+think he must have been right; and that tonight he <i>knows</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tears were in her eyes again. The loss was so recent still&mdash;the memory so
+painful. He drew her to him, and kissed them away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That night, Ethel, that first, terrible night when you were alone, it
+nearly killed me to have to go away and leave you, to feel I could not do
+anything at all. You must let me comfort you doubly now to make up for it. You
+must come to me quickly.&rdquo; She smiled softly, and he added: &ldquo;It
+would have been Basil&rsquo;s wish, too. He hated the office as much as I do.
+Tell them tomorrow that you&rsquo;re not coming any more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her smile deepened at his boyishness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are certain hard-and-fast rules to be observed about leaving.
+I&rsquo;m afraid they won&rsquo;t waive them for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, tell them you are going to be married… You <i>are</i> going to be
+married, aren&rsquo;t you?…&rdquo; for a moment he was almost like Hal.
+&ldquo;Well, why don&rsquo;t you answer? I want to know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t made up my mind sufficiently yet,&rdquo; with a low,
+happy laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I must make it up for you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His manner changed again to one of wondering, absorbing tenderness. Hal had
+been right, as usual. Under the man&rsquo;s surface-narrowness and superiority
+was a deep, true heart that had only been waiting the hour of its great
+emancipation. He took her in his arms and kissed her again and again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Child,&rdquo; he breathed, &ldquo;haven&rsquo;t I waited long enough?
+Every hour of the last few months, since I knew, has been like a year.
+Don&rsquo;t make me leave you here alone one moment longer than is
+necessary.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>
+So it happened that when Hal came back to a dreary, empty, joyless London, an
+unexpected gladness was waiting for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The last few days had almost broken her spirit. The pathos of that lonely,
+far-off grave, in the little alien churchyard, where they tenderly left the
+remains of the beautiful, brilliant woman who had been so much in her life for
+so long, seemed more than she could bear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They three had stood together, representing her richness in friendship, her
+poverty in blood ties. The wire to her mother had only brought the reply from
+some one in London that she was travelling in the South of Italy, and could not
+possibly arrive in time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer still seemed almost stunned. He had scarcely spoken since Danton told
+him what had happened. At first Hal had declined to see him at all, but in the
+end Denton, with his shrewd common sense, had talked her into a kindlier mood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they came back from the churchyard she had gone to him in the little
+sitting-room, where he sat alone, with bowed head. He stood up when she came
+in, but he did not speak. He waited for her to say what she would, with a look
+of quiet misery in his eyes that touched her heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the first time she saw how changed he was. There seemed nothing of the old
+boyishness left. Only a quiet, grave, deeply suffering man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had no conception that she, personally, added every hour and every moment
+to that suffering. She did not know he was enduring a bitter sense of having
+lost her for ever, as well as the friend and benefactress he had undoubtedly
+loved very dearly, if not with the same passionate love that she had known for
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he only stood before her there, very straight and very still, and with that
+old, quiet, ineradicable dignity which never failed him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lorraine left a little written message for me,&rdquo; she said to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She paused a moment, and her eyes wandered away out to the little garden, with
+its last fading summer beauty yielding already to autumn. And so she did not
+see the expression in his fine face when he ventured to look at her. She did
+not know that because of his hopeless love, and withal his quiet courage and
+quiet pain, at that moment he looked even more splendidly a man than perhaps he
+had ever done before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had life been kinder, he would have crossed the space between them in one step,
+and folded her in such an embrace as would have lost her slim form entirely in
+his enfolding bigness. He would have given her a love, and a lover, such as
+falls to the lot of but few women.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And she stood there, with her head half turned away; with sad eyes and drooping
+lips that went to his heart; her mind full of her dead friend, and scarcely a
+glance for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She said I was not to blame you for anything, and she told me to give
+you her dear, dear love.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He winced visibly, but stood his ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; he said, in a very low voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then, with a sudden, longing triumphing over all:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I prefer to take the blame upon myself, but even then I hope some day
+you will find it possible to forgive me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall never forget how much Lorraine loved you,&rdquo; was all the
+poor hope she gave him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will that make it possible for us to remain friends?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I hope so.&rdquo; She gave him her hand with an old-fashioned
+solemnity. &ldquo;For Lorraine&rsquo;s sake,&rdquo; she said very simply, and
+then left him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned with a stifled groan, and, leaning his elbows on the mantelpiece,
+buried his face in his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet in that painful hour, out of all the tragic mistakes of her life, Lorraine
+might have gleaned this gladness. In that hour he was nearer than he had ever
+been before to the man she had striven to make him; for, mercifully for all
+mankind, there is a &ldquo;power outside ourselves,&rdquo; which out of wrong,
+and weakness, and pain can bring forth good.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sad trio returned to London the following day, and Hal wondered forlornly
+if Dudley would leave his office early to come and meet her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When she stepped out on the platform he and Ethel were standing together,
+looking for her. Then they saw her, and Ethel came forward first, holding out
+both hands, with a subdued light in her face, that made Hal pause and wonder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you know? It was nice of you to come,&rdquo; she said, with
+another question in her eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dudley told me, dear. I have been thinking of you so much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then Dudley stepped up to them, and in his face, too, was this subdued
+gladness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked from one to the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you?…&rdquo; she began, and paused uncertainly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, dear&rdquo;; and Ethel blushed charmingly. &ldquo;I am going to be
+your sister, so I thought you would let me begin at once, and come to meet you,
+and try to comfort you a little.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said Hal, drawing a deep breath; &ldquo;and I thought I was
+never going to be glad about anything again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap46"></a>CHAPTER XLVI</h2>
+
+<p>
+It is necessary to take but a cursory glance at the events that followed. Life
+flowed smoothly enough in its way, but it flowed towards higher and greater
+achievements for some, and that can only mean a story of obstacles, and
+drawbacks and difficulties sturdily overcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For the three inmates of the Cromwell Road flat it held many prizes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer Hermon&rsquo;s career continued to advance by leaps and bounds. The
+&ldquo;taking up&rdquo; by Sir Philip Hall became quickly an actual fact, and
+he was soon easily first among the juniors. What he lacked in years and
+experience his striking presence and personal charm supplied, and his calm
+gravity and self-possession went far to counteract his youthful appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dick Bruce finished his great novel, and though it was not quite the jumble
+about vegetables and babies he had prophesied, it was considered the most
+original book of the year, and brought him instantaneous recognition and fame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quin inherited some money, and built a wonderful East End Club House that is
+all his own, and is as the apple of his eye.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If the great solution of life is to find one&rsquo;s true environment, he has
+at any rate found his; and in finding it knows a happiness, even amid the
+squalid poverty of Shoreditch, such as is found by few.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the meantime Hal continued to work and be independent. When Ethel and Dudley
+married, they tried hard to persuade her to live with them, but she had already
+bespoken a smaller sitting-room with her old landlady, Mrs. Carr, and made up
+her mind to live there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Later, when Dudley began to add to his income, they begged her to give up her
+work, but she was obdurate, again expressing certain views on the boon of
+steady occupation they could not gainsay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is so boring sometimes,&rdquo; Ethel remonstrated, and she answered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not so boring as idleness in the long run, and having to make up your
+mind each day what you are going to do next. The girls who only enjoy
+themselves without work little know what they miss in never waking up in the
+morning to say, &lsquo;Hurray! this is a holiday.&rsquo; No! give me my work
+and my play well balanced, and I&rsquo;ll turn them into happiness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was months before Alymer dared to speak to her of love. It had taken him
+long to win her to the old fooling again; and in a sudden gladness at some
+little remark or touch that seemed to show him he was truly forgiven for his
+own sake, he told her the story of his love, and his long waiting.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal was very taken aback, and a little unhappy, but when she had convinced him
+it was really quite hopeless, he forced himself back to the old comradeship,
+and took up his self-imposed burden of waiting once more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then followed a period of rapid successes, during which Hal told him seriously
+he must now make a choice among the bevy of beauty, wealth, and lineage at his
+disposal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You really ought, you know,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;out of consideration
+for all the poor things left hoping against hope, and the numbers that are
+yearly added to them!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have made my choice,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;it is not my fault
+about the vain hopes. It is the obstinacy of one woman, who is keeping the
+others in the unfortunate condition you describe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But she only smiled lightly, and put him off again, concluding with:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should be frightened out of my life at possessing anything so
+beauteous and attractive in the way of a husband.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Hermon worked on, and waited, believing in his star.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet there were times when the apparent hopelessness of it weighed heavily on
+his mind&mdash;times when the very lustre of his success seemed only to mock
+him, because of that one thing he craved in vain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was so when the greatest achievement of his life came to his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was given him to plead for a woman&rsquo;s life against a charge of
+poisoning her husband, pitting his youth and slender experience against the
+greatest advocate of the Crown. The case caused a great stir, and with a
+growing wonderment and pride she hardly dared to account for. Hal followed the
+newspaper reports day by day.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The evening before the speech for the defence he came to her. She greeted him
+as usual, saying little about his present notoriety, but she noticed that he
+looked careworn, as if the strain were becoming too much for him; and then
+suddenly he stated his errand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want you to come to the court tomorrow, Hal. I&mdash;I&mdash;have a
+feeling I want you to be there when I am speaking. Will you come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked up doubtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why do you want me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know. I mean to save this woman if I can. She did not give the
+poison. I am quite certain of it; but we can&rsquo;t prove it absolutely. We
+can only appeal in such a way to the jury that they will feel the case is not
+merely not proven against her, but that she is innocent. I think it would
+inspire me more than anything if you were there.&rdquo; He paused, then added:
+&ldquo;I love you so much, Hal, I feel as if I shall save her life if you are
+there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal looked touched, and agreed to go if he would arrange everything, and
+telephone to her what time to arrive.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next day she went to the court with the card he had given, and found
+herself received with the utmost deference, and ushered at once to a seat
+reserved for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A few minutes afterwards Alymer stood up to make his great speech, and then Hal
+heard a subdued murmur around her, and saw that the judge was watching him with
+some interest and expectancy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the first time she had seen him in his wig and gown, in court, and her
+heart began to beat strangely. She felt suddenly and unaccountably incensed
+with the women all round, who whispered and gazed. &ldquo;What was he to them
+anyway! How idiotic of them to murmur to each other how splendid he looked!
+What did he care for their approval?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her heart carried her a little farther. &ldquo;What is he to you?...&rdquo; it
+asked. She felt a sudden warm glow of pride, and her eyes grew very soft as she
+watched him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he began to speak, and it seemed as if everything in heaven and earth has
+paused to listen. Surely there was no big thoroughfare with hurrying multitudes
+just outside, no continual stream of noisy, hurrying traffic; no busy newspaper
+offices awaiting each flying message&mdash;nothing anywhere but that crowded
+hall, that white-faced accused woman waiting for death or freedom, that man in
+his beauty of manhood and power straining every nerve to save her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An hour passed. No one spoke, no one moved. Sometimes a sob, hastily stifled,
+broke the oppresive hush, sometimes a stifled cough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Alymer rarely raised his voice, for his was no impassioned, heated declaration.
+It was a magnificent piece of quiet oratory, which carried every one along by
+its earnestness and convincing calm, and was intensified by the look upon his
+noble, resolute face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+After a time every one knew instinctively that he had won. The tension grew
+less taut and more emotional. Women began to weep softly and restrainedly. Men
+cleared their throats again and again. Some one sitting next to Hal apparently
+knew him, and knew her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God,&rdquo; he breathed in her ear, &ldquo;he&rsquo;s magnificent.
+He&rsquo;s saved her. I wouldn&rsquo;t have missed this for anything. I&rsquo;m
+proud to be his friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hal&rsquo;s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She began to feel dazed and faint.
+It had been too much for her, and the relief was overwhelming.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She thought of Lorraine, and her heart swelled to think he had so gloriously
+fulfilled her vast hopes, and crowned all she had done for him. She longed that
+she might have been there, and then felt mysteriously that she not only was
+there, but was speaking to her. In a vague, unreal, mystical way, Lorraine was
+pleading with her to give him his happiness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked again, confusedly, at the big, strong, calm man; and something that
+had been growing in her heart for months took shape and form.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What did the other women matter? He was hers&mdash;hers&mdash;hers. Why stop to
+question or demur? What did anything matter but that he had loved her so long
+and faithfully; and that at last she loved him?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a stress of unendurable emotion, she got up unsteadily, and left the court.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A quarter of an hour later, Alymer finished his speech, and sat down instantly
+turning his head to look for her. Instead of the familiar, eager face of the
+first hour, he saw the empty space, and his overwrought mind sank to a dull
+level of bitter disappointment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was not impressed, then&mdash;not even interested enough to stay until the
+end. Oh, what did it matter? She was hard&mdash;hard, he was a fool to love her
+so.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The jury went away and came back with their verdict of &ldquo;Not
+guilty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a rush and buzz of congratulations. He smiled, because he had to
+smile, and grasped outstretched hands because he had to grasp them. The moment
+it was possible to get away, he walked blindly and hurriedly to the entrance,
+and got into a taxi, before the waiting crowd had had time to recognise him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where to?&rdquo; a policeman asked him, and for a moment he was at a
+loss to know. Then he gave Hal&rsquo;s address. &ldquo;Better have it out and
+done with,&rdquo; was his thought. Once for all he would make her tell him if
+it was hopeless, and if she said yes, he would go away and try to forget her in
+another country.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he was shown into Hal&rsquo;s little sitting-room, he found her crouching
+on a footstool in the firelight, before the fire. He stood a moment or two and
+looked at her, and then he said in a slightly harsh voice:
+</p>
+
+&ldquo;I suppose you hurried away because you were bored. I thought you would
+have stayed until the end. I was a fool. Nothing I do ever has interested you,
+or ever will.&rdquo;
+
+<p>
+Hal did not look round. She was staring into the flames, with her chin resting
+in her hands. When he paused she said calmly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t hear what you say so far away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He moved across the room and stood on the hearth beside her, towering above
+her, with his eyes on the opposite wall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why I came here at all,&rdquo; he continued;
+&ldquo;but it didn&rsquo;t seem any use going anywhere else. Why did you run
+away in the middle! Did you want to punish my presumption for wishing to try
+and distinguish myself before you, as well as save a woman&rsquo;s life and
+honour?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little smile shone in Hal&rsquo;s eyes, where the firelight caught them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t hear what you say, right up there, near the
+ceiling.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked down at the dark shapely head, and something in her poise and in her
+voice made his heart suddenly begin to thump rather wildly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t got a beanstalk,&rdquo; she added.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He leaned a little towards her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if you had?&rdquo; he asked tensely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I had, I would perhaps climb up it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He leaned lower still, his heart thumping yet more wildly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you climbed up a ladder like that, you would be bound to climb into
+my arms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;and what if I did?&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+THE END.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Winding Paths, by Gertrude Page
+
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+Title: Winding Paths
+
+Author: Gertrude Page
+
+Release Date: May, 2004  [EBook #5636]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on July 27, 2002]
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, WINDING PATHS ***
+
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+
+This Etext was prepared by w.debeuf@belgacom.net, Project Gutenberg
+volunteer.
+
+
+
+
+
+Winding Paths.
+
+By Gertrude Page.
+
+"So many gods, so many creeds,
+So many paths that wind and wind,
+And just the art of being kind
+Is all the sad world needs."
+
+
+
+
+WINDING PATHS
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+There were several interesting points about Hal Pritchard and Lorraine
+Vivian, but perhaps the most striking was their friendship for each
+other.  From two wide-apart extremes they had somehow gravitated
+together, and commenced at boarding-school a friendship which only
+deepened and strengthened after their exit from the wise supervision of
+the Misses Walton, and their entrance as "finished" young women into
+the wide area of the world at large.
+
+Lorraine went first.  She was six years older than Hal, and under
+ordinary circumstances would hardly have been at school with her at
+all.  As it was, she went at nineteen because she was not very strong,
+and sea air was considered good for her.  She was a short of
+parlour-boarder, sent to study languages and accomplishments while she
+inhaled the sea air of Eastgate.  Why, among all the scholars, who for
+the most part regarded her as a resplendent, beautifully dressed being
+outside their sphere, she should have quickly developed an ardent
+affection for Hal, the rough-and-ready tomboy, remained a mystery; but
+far from being a passing fancy, it ripened steadily into a deep and
+lasting attachment.
+
+When Hal was fifteen, Lorraine left; and it has to be admitted that the
+anxious, motherly hearts of the Misses Walton drew a deep breath of
+relief, and hoped the friendship would now cease, unfed by daily
+contact and daily mutual interests.  But there they under-estimated the
+depth of affection already in the hearts of the girls, and their
+natural loyalty, which scorned a mere question of separation, and
+entered into one another's interests just as eagerly as when they were
+together.
+
+Not that they, the Misses Walton, had anything actually against
+Lorraine, beyond the fact that she promised a degree of beauty likely,
+they felt, coupled as it was with a charming wit and a fascinating
+personality, to open out some striking career for her, and possibly
+become a snare and a temptation.
+
+On the other hand, Hal was just a homely, nondescript, untidy, riotous
+type of schoolgirl, with a very strong capacity for affection, and an
+unmanageable predilection for scrapes and adventures, that made her
+more likely to fall under the sway of Lorraine, should it promise any
+chance of excitement.
+
+And one had only to view Lorraine among the other "young ladies" of the
+seminary to fear the worst.  Miss Emily Walton would never have
+admitted it; but even she, fondly clinging to the old tradition that
+the terms "girls" or "women" are less impressive than "young ladies",
+felt somehow that the orthodox nomenclature did not successfully fit
+her two most remarkable pupils. Of course they were ladies by birth and
+education, else they would certainly not have been admitted to so
+select a seminary; but whereas the rest of the pupils might be said
+more or less to study, and improve, and have their being in a milk and
+biscuit atmosphere, Hal and Lorraine were quite uncomfortably more like
+champagne and good, honest, frothing beer.
+
+No amount of prunes and prism advice and surroundings seemed to dull
+the sparkle in Lorraine, nor daunt nor suppress fearless, outspoken,
+unmanageable Hal.  In separate camps, with a nice little following
+each, to keep an even balance, they might merely have livened the free
+hours; but as a combination it soon became apparent they would waken up
+the embryo young ladies quite alarmingly, and initiate a new atmosphere
+of gaiety that might become beyond the restraining, select influence
+even of the Misses Walton.
+
+The first scare came with the new French mistress, who had a perfect
+Parisian accent, but knew very little English.  Of course Lorraine
+easily divined this, and, being something of a French scholar already,
+she soon won Mademoiselle's confidence by one or two charmingly
+expressed, lucid French explanations.
+
+Then came the translation lesson, and choosing a fable that would
+specially lend itself, she started the class off translating it into an
+English fabrication that convulsed both pupils and mistress.  Hal, of
+course, followed suit, and the merriment grew fast and furious after a
+few positively rowdy lessons.
+
+Mademoiselle herself gave the fun away at the governesses' dinner, a
+very precise and formal meal, which took place at seven o'clock, to be
+followed at eight by the pupils' supper of bread-and-butter with
+occasional sardines.  She related in broken English what an amusing
+book they had to read, repeating a few slang terms, that would
+certainly not, under anu circumstances, have been allowed to pass the
+lips of the young ladies.
+
+After that it was deemed advisable Lorraine should translate French
+alone, and Hal be severely admonished.
+
+Then there was the dreadful affair of the Boys' College.  It was not
+unusual for them to walk past the school on Sunday afternoons; but it
+was only after Lorraine came that a system was instituted by which, if
+the four front boys all blew their noses as they passed, it was a
+signal that a note, or possibly several, had been slipped under the
+loose brick at the school entrance.
+
+Further, it was only Lorraine who could have sent the answers, because
+none of the other girls had an uncle often running down for a breath of
+sea air, when, of course, he needed his dear niece's company.  He was
+certainly a very attentive uncle, and a very generous one too, judging
+by the Buszard's cakes and De Brei's chocolates, and Miss Walton could
+not help eyeing him a little askance.
+
+But then, as Miss Emily said, he was such a very striking,
+distinguished-looking gentleman, people had already been interested to
+learn he had a niece at the Misses Walton's seminary.  Besides, one
+could not reasonably object to a relative calling, and he had seemed so
+devoted to Lorraine's handsome mother when they had together brought
+her to school.
+
+But of course, after the disgraceful episode of the notes that blew
+into the road, the windows had to be dulled at once, so that no one
+could see the boys pass.  It was a mercy the thing had been discovered
+so soon.
+
+Then shortly after came the breaking-up dances, one for the
+governesses, when the masters from the college were invited, and one
+the next night for the girls, when the remains of the same supper did
+duty again, and with reference to which Miss Walton gently told them
+she had not been able to ask any of the boys from the school, as she
+was afraid their parents would not approve; she hoped they were not
+disappointed, and that the big girls would dance with the little ones,
+as it pleased them so.
+
+Lorraine immediately replied sweetly that none of them cared about
+dancing with boys, and some of the children would be much more amusing.
+ She made herself spokeswoman, because Miss Walton had
+half-unconsciously glanced at her at the mere mention of the word boys,
+fondly believing that the other well-brought-up pupils would prefer
+their room to their company, whereas Lorraine might think the party
+very tame.  Her answer was a pleasant surprise.
+
+But then, who was to know that the night of the governesses' dance she
+had bribed the three girls in the small dormitory to silence, and after
+some half-dozen of them had gone to bed with their night-gowns over
+their dresses, had given the signal to arise directly the dance was in
+full swing.  After that they adjourned to the small dormitory and
+spread out a repast of sweets and cakes, to which such of the younger
+masters as were brave enough to risk detection slipped away up the
+school staircase at intervals, to be more than rewarded by Lorraine's
+inimitable mimicry.
+
+"There will be no boys for you to dance with, dear girls," she told
+them gently, "as your parents might not approve," then added, with
+roguish lights in her splendid eyes: "No boys, dear girls, only a few
+masters to supper in the small dormitory."
+
+Hal's misdemeanours were of a less subtle kind.  Neither boys nor
+masters interested her particularly as yet; but there were a
+thousand-and-one other ways of livening things up, and she tried them
+all, sometimes getting off scot free, and sometimes finding herself
+uncomfortably pilloried before the rest of the school, to be
+cross-questioned and severely admonished at great lenght before being
+"sent to Coventry" for a stated period.
+
+But, had she only known it, there were many chicken-hearted girls who
+envied her even her disgrace, for the sake of the dauntless, shining
+spirit of her that nothing ever crushed.  And as for being "sent to
+Coventry", well, Hal and Lorraine easily coped with that through the
+twopennyworth system.
+
+If an offender was sent to Coventry, any other girl who spoke to her
+had to pay a fine of twopence, and if either of these two glay spirits
+found themselves doomed to silence, they persuaded such of the others
+as were "game" enough, to have occasional "twopennyworths".
+
+Of the two, Hal was far the greater favourite; she was in fact the
+popular idol; for though the girls were full of admiration for
+Lorraine, and not a little proud of her, they were also a little afraid
+of a wit that could be sharp-edged, and perhaps resentful too of that
+nameless something about her striking personality that made them feel
+their inferiority.
+
+Hal was quite different, and her unfailing spirits, her vigorous
+championing of the oppressed, or scathing denunciation of anything
+sneaky and mean, made them all look up to her, and love her, whether
+she knew or not.
+
+Even the governess felt her compelling attraction, and would often, by
+a timely word, save her from the consequences of some forgetful moment.
+ At the same time, the one who warned Miss Walton against the possible
+ill results of the girl's growing love for Lorraine little understood
+the nature she had to deal with.
+
+When Hal found herself in the private sanctum, being gently admonished
+concerning a friendship that was  thought to be growing too strong, she
+was quick instantly to resent the slur on her chum.  She had been sent
+for immediately after "evening prep.," and having, as usual, inked her
+fingers generously, and rubbed an ink-smudge across her face, to say
+nothing of really disgracefully tumbled hair, she looked a comical
+enough object standing before the impressive presence of the head
+mistress.
+
+"Really, Hal," Miss Walton remonstrated, "can't you even keep tidy for
+an hour in the evening?"
+
+"Not when it's German night," answered outspoken Hal; "where to put the
+verbs, and how to split them, makes my hair stand on end, and the ink
+squirm out of the pot."
+
+Miss Walton tried to look severe, remarking: "Don't be frivolous here,
+my dear"; but, as Hal described it later, "she looked as if having so
+often to be sedate was beginning to make her tired."
+
+But when she proceeded to explain to Hal that neither she nor her
+sister were easy in their minds about her growing devotion to Lorraine,
+Hal's expressive mouth began to look rather stern, and neither the
+ink-smudges nor the tousled hair could rob her of a certain na�ve dignity
+as she asked, "Are you implying anything against Lorraine?"
+
+"No, no, my dear, certainly not," Miss Walton replied, feeling slightly
+at a loss to express herself, "but I have never encouraged a violent
+friendship between two girls that is apt to make them hold aloof from
+the others, and be continually in one another's society.  And in this
+instance, Lorraine being so much older than you, and of a temperament
+hardly likely to appeal to your brother, as a desirable one in your
+great friend -"
+
+"I am not asking Dudley to make her his great friend -"
+
+"Don't interrupt me, dear.  I am only speaking of what I am perfectly
+aware are your brother's feeling concerning you; and seeing you have
+neither father nor mother, I feel my responsibility and his the
+greater."
+
+"But what is the matter with Lorraine?" Hal cried, growing a little
+exasperated.  "She is not nearly so frivolous as I am, and works far
+harder."
+
+Miss Walton hesitated a little.  "We feel she is naturally rather
+worldly-minded and ambitious, whereas you -"  She paused.
+
+"Whereas I am a simpleton," suggested Hal, with a mischievous light in
+her eyes.  "Well, then, dear Miss Walton, how fortunate for me that
+some one clever and briljant is willing to give me her friendship and
+help to lift me out of my slough of simpletondom!"
+
+Miss Walton looked up with a reproof on her lips, but it died away, and
+a new expression came into her eyes as she seemed to see something in
+this unruly pupil she had not before suspected.  Hal still looked as if
+a smothered sense of injustice might presently explode into hot words;
+but in the meantime the air of dignity stood its ground in spite of
+smudges and untidiness.
+
+Neither spoke for a moment, and then Miss Walton remarked: "You do not
+mean to be guided by me in this matter?"
+
+"Lorraine is my friend," Hal answered.  "I cannot let myself listen to
+anything that suggests a slur upon her."
+
+"Not even if your brother expressed a wish on the subject?"
+
+"I do not ask Dudley to let me choose his friends."
+
+"That is quite a different matter.  He is fifteen years your senior."
+
+Hal was silent.  She stood with her hands behind her, and her head held
+high, and her clear eyes very straight to the front; well-knit,
+well-built, with a promise of that vague something which is so much
+stronger a factor in the world than mere beauty.
+
+Miss Walton, who necessarily saw much of the mediocre and commonplace
+in her life-work of turning growing girls into presentable young women,
+felt her feelings undergo a further change.  She also had the tact to
+see an appeal would go farther than mere advice.
+
+"I was only thinking of you, Hal," she said, a trifle tiredly. "I have
+nothing against Lorraine, except that she is dangerously attractive if
+she likes, and her love of admiration and excitement does not make her
+a very wise friend for a girl of your age.  You are different, and your
+paths are likely to lead far apart in the future.  It did not seem to
+me desirable you should grow too fond of each other."
+
+Even as she spoke she found herself wondering what Hal would say, and
+in an unlooked-for way interested.
+
+Hal answered promptly :
+
+"I do not think our lives will lie apart.  Both of us will have to be
+breadwinners at any rate, and that will be a bond."
+
+Her mobile face seemed to change.  "Miss Walton, I'm devoted to
+Lorraine.  I always shall be.  But you needn't be anxious.  The
+stronger influence is not where you think.  I can bend Lorraine's will,
+but she cannot bend mine.  It will always be so.  And nothing that you
+nor any one can say will make me change to her."
+
+They said little more, but when she was alone the head mistress stood
+silently for some minutes looking into the dying embers of her fire.
+Then she uttered to herself an enigmatical sentence:
+
+"Beauty will give to Lorraine the great career; but the greater woman
+will be Hal."
+
+Shortly after that Lorraine departed, and about a year later embarked
+in the theatrical world.
+
+No one was surprised, but very adverse opinions were expressed among
+the girls concerning her success or otherwise; those who were jealous,
+or who had felt slighted during her short reign as school beauty,
+condemning any possible likelihood of a hit.
+
+Hal said very little.  She was already reaching out tentacles to the
+wider world, where schoolgirl criticisms would be mere prattle; and it
+was far more serious to her to wonder what Brother Dudley would think
+of her having an actress for her greatest friend.
+
+She foresaw rocks ahead, but smiled humorously to herself in spite of
+them.
+
+"What a tussle there'll be!" was her thought, "and how in the world am
+I to convince Dudley that Lorraine does not represent a receptacle for
+all the deadly sins?  Heigho!  The mere fact of my disagreeing will
+persuade him I am already contaminated, and he will see us both
+heading, like fire-engines, for the nethermost hell."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+If Dudley Pritchard's imagination did not actually picture the lurid
+and violent descent Hal suggested, it certainly did view with the
+utmost alarm his lively young sister's friendship with a fully fledged
+actress.
+
+As a matter of fact, Miss Walton's prognostications concerning his
+attitude to Lorraine Vivian, even as a schoolgirl, had been instantly
+confirmed upon their first meeting.
+
+For no particular reason he disapproved of her.  That was rather
+typical of Dudley.  He disapproved of a good many things without quite
+knowing why, or being at any particular pains to find out.
+
+Not that it made him bigoted.  He could in fact be fairly tolerant; but
+as Hal affectionately observed, Dudley was so apt to pat himself on the
+back for his toleration towards things that it would never have occured
+to most persons needed tolerating.
+
+She knew perfectly well that he considered himself very tolerant
+towards much that was to be deprecated in her, but, far from resenting
+his attitude, she shaw chiefly the humorous side, and managed to glean
+a good deal of quiet amusement from it.
+
+Considering the fifteen years' difference in their ages, and the fact
+that Dudley was a hard-working architect in London, seeing life on all
+sides, while Hal was still a hoydenish schoolgirl, it was really
+remarkable how thoroughly she grasped and understood his character, and
+a great deal concerning the world in general, while he seemed to remain
+at his first decisions concerning her and most things.
+
+It was just perhaps the difference between the book-student and the
+life-student.  Dudley had always had a passion for books and for his
+profession.  His clever brain was a well of knowledge concerning
+ancient architectures and relics of antiquity.  He studied them because
+he loved them, and, before all things else, to him they seemed worth
+while.
+
+He loved his sister also - he loved her better than any one, but it
+would never have occured to him that she should be studied, or that
+there was anything in her to study.  To him she was quite an ordinary
+girl, rather nice-looking when she was neat, but with a most
+unfortunate lack of the sedate dignity and discretion that he
+considered essential to the typically admirable woman.
+
+That there might be other traits in their place, equally admirable, did
+not occur to him.  They ware not at any rate the traits he most admired.
+
+Hal, on the other hand, was different in every respect.  She loated
+books, and learning, and what she called "dead old bones and rubbish."
+But she loved human nature, and studied in in every phase she could.
+
+Left at a very tender age to Dudley's sole care and protection, she had
+to grow up without the enfolding, sympathetic love of a mother, or the
+gay companionship of brothers and sisters.  Not in the least depressed,
+she started off at an early age in quest of adventure to see what the
+world was like outside the four walls of their home.
+
+Brought back, sometimes by a policeman, with whom she had already
+become on the friendliest terms, sometimes in a cab in which some one
+else had placed her, sometimes by a kindly stranger, she would yet slip
+away again on the first opportunity, into the crush of mankind.
+Punishment and expostulation were alike useless; Hal was just as
+fascinated with people as Dudley was with books, and where her nature
+called she fearlessly followed.
+
+Through this roving trait she picked up an amount of commonplace,
+everyday knowledge that would have dumbfoundered the clever young
+architect, had he been in the least able to comprehend it.  But while
+he dipped enthusiastically into bygone ages, and won letters and
+honours in his profession, she asked questions about life in the
+present, and grappled with the problem of everyday existence and the
+peculiarities of human nature, in a way that made her largely his
+superior, despite his letters and honours.
+
+And best of all was her complete understanding of him.  Dudley fondly
+imagined he was fulfilling to the best possible endeavours his
+obligations of love and guardianship to his young sister.  The young
+sister, with her tender, quizzical understanding, regarded him as a
+mere child, with a deliciously humorous way of always taking himself
+very seriously; a brilliant brain, an irritating fund of superiority,
+and something altogether apart that made him dearer than heaven and
+earth and all things therein to her.
+
+Hal might be dearer than all else to Dudley, without finding herself
+loved in any way out of the ordinary, seeing how little he cared much
+about except his profession; but to be the beloved of all, to an eager,
+passionate, intense nature like hers, meant that in her heart she had
+placed him upon a pedestal, and, while fondly having her little smile
+over his shortcomings, yet loved him with an all-embracing love.  He
+did not suspect it, and he would not have understood it if he had;
+being rather of the opinion that, considering all he had tried to be to
+her, she might have loved him enough in return to make a greater effort
+to please him.
+
+Her obdurate resistance during the first stage of his disapproval of
+Lorraine Vivian increased this feeling considerably.  He felt that if
+she really cared for him she should be willing to be guided by his
+judgment; and while perceiving, just as Miss Walton had done, that she
+meant to have her own way, he had less perspicacity to perceive also
+that nameless trait which, for want of a better word, we sometimes call
+grit, and which dimly proclaimed she  might be trusted to follow her
+own strenght of character.
+
+When, later, his attitude of displeasure increased a thousandfold.
+
+He was not told of it just at first.  Hal was then in the throes of
+convincing him that her particular talents lay in the direction of
+secretarial work and journalism, rather than governessing or idleness,
+and persuading him to make arrangements at once for her to learn
+shorthand and typewriting with a view to becoming the private secretary
+of a well-known editor of one of the leading newspapers.
+
+The editor in question was a distant connection, and quite willing to
+take her if she proved herself capable, recognising, through his skill
+at reading character, that she might eventually prove invaluable in
+other ways than mere letter-writing.
+
+Dudley, seeing no farther than the fact of the City office, set his
+face resolutely against it as long as he could; but, of course, in the
+end Hal carried the day.  Then came the shock of the knowledge that
+Lorraine had gone on the stage; and if, as had been said before, he did
+not actually picture the lurid exit to the lower regions Hal gave him
+credit for, he was sufficiently upset to have wakeful nights and many
+anxious, worried hours.
+
+And to make it worse, Hal would not even be serious.
+
+"Oh, don't look like that, Dudley!" she cried; "we really are not in
+any immediate danger of selling our souls to the Prince of Darkness.
+You dear old solemnsides!  Just because Lorraine is going on the stage,
+I believe you already see me in spangles, jumping through a hoop.  Or
+rather 'trying to', because it is a dead cert.  I should miss the hoop,
+and do a sort of double somersault over the horse's tail."
+
+Dudley shut his firm lips a little more tightly, and looked hard at his
+boots, without vouchsafing a reply.
+
+"As a matter of fact," continued the incorrigible, "you ought to
+perceive how beautifully life balances things, by giving a dangerously
+attractive person like Lorraine a matter-of-fact, commonplace pal like
+myself to restrain her, and at the same time ward of possible dangers
+from various unoffending humans, who might fall hurtfully under her
+spell."
+
+"It is only the danger to you that I have anything to do with."
+
+"Oh fie, Dudley! as if I mattered half as much as Humanity with a
+capital H."
+
+"To me, personally, you matter far more in this particular case."
+
+"And yet, really, the chief danger to me is that I might unconsciously
+catch some reflection of Lorraine's charm and become dangerously
+attractive myself, instead of just an outspoken hobbledehoy no one
+takes seriously."
+
+"I am not afraid of that," he said, evoking a peal of laughter of which
+he could not even see the point; "but since you are quite determined to
+go into the City as a secretary, instead of procuring a nice
+comfortable home as a companion, or staying quietly here to improve
+your mind, I naturally feel you will encounter quite enough dangers
+without getting mixed up in a theatrical set.  Though, really," in a
+grumbling voice, "I can't see why you don't stay at home like any
+sensible girl.  If I am not rich, I have at least enough for two."
+
+"But if I stayed at home, and lived on you, Dudley, I should feel I had
+to improve my mind by way of making you some return; and you can't
+think how dreadfully my mind hates the idea of being improved.  And if
+I went to some dear old lady as companion, she would be sure to die in
+an apoplectic fit in a month, and I should be charged with
+manslaughter.  And I can't teach, because I don't know anything.  The
+only serious danger I shall run as Mr. Elliott's secretary will be
+putting an occasional addition of my own to his letters, in a fit of
+exasperation, or driving his sub-editor mad; and he seems willing to
+risk that."
+
+"You are likely to run greater dangers than that if you allow yourself
+to be drawn into a theatrical circle."
+
+"What sort of dangers?...  Oh, my dear, saintly episcopal architect,
+what foundations of darkness are you building upon now, out of a little
+old-fashioned, out-of-date prejudice which you might have dug up from
+some of your studies in antiquity books?  There are just as many
+dangers outside the theatrical world as in it, for the sort of woman
+dangers are attractive to; and little Sunday-school teachers have come
+to grief, while famous actresses have won through unscathed."
+
+Dudley's face expressed both surprise and distaste.
+
+"I wonder what you know about it anyway.  I think you are talking at
+random.  Certainly no dangers would come near you if you listened to my
+wishes and settled down quietly at home.  If you don't care about
+living in Bloomsbury, I will take a small house in the suburbs, and you
+can amuse yourself with the housekeeping, and tennis, and that sort of
+thing."
+
+"And when you want to marry?"
+
+"I shall not want to marry.  I am wedded to my profession."
+
+"O Dudley!...  Dudley!..."  She slipped off the table where she had
+been jauntily seated, and came and stood beside him, passing her arm
+through his.  "Can't you see I'd just die of a little house in the
+suburbs, looking after the housekeeping: it's the most dreadful and
+awful thing on the face of the earth.  I'm not a bit sorry for slaves,
+and prisoners, and shipwrecked sailors, and East-end starvelings; every
+bit of sympathy I've got is used up for the girls who've got to stay in
+hundrum homes, and be nothing, and do nothing, but just finished young
+ladies.  Work is the finest thing in the world.  It's just splendid to
+have something real to do, and be paid for it.  Why, they can't even go
+to prison, or be hungry, or anything except possible wives for possible
+men who may or may not happen to want them."
+
+"Of course you are talking arrant nonsense," Dudley replied frigidly.
+"I don't know where in the world you get all your queer ideas.  Woman's
+sphere is most decidedly the home; you seem to -" but a small hand was
+clapped vigorously over his mouth, and eyes of feigned horror searching
+his.
+
+"Do you know, I'm half afraid you've lived in your musty old books so
+long, Dudley," with mock seriousness, "that you've lost all count of
+time.  It is about a thousand years since sane and sensible men
+believed all that drivel about women's only sphere being the home, and
+since women were content to be mere chattels, stuck in with the rest of
+the furniture, to look after the children.  Nowadays the jolly,
+sensible woman that a man likes for wife or pal, is very often a busy
+worker."
+
+"Let her work busily at home, then!"
+
+"Why, you'll want me to crochet antimacassars next, or cross-stitch a
+sampler!  Just imagine the thing if I tried!  It would have dreadful
+results, because I should be sure to use bad language - I couldn't help
+it; and the article I should concoct would make people faint, or turn
+cross-eyed or colour-blind.  I shan't do nearly so much harm in the end
+as a City secretary with an actress pal."
+
+"One thing is quite certain: you mean, as usual, to have your own way,
+and my feelings go for nothing at all."
+
+He turned away from her, and took up his hat to go out.
+
+"Your protestations of affection, Hal, are apt to seem both insincere
+and out of place."
+
+The tears came swiftly to her eyes, and she took a quick step towards
+him, but he had gone, and closed the door after him before she could
+speak.  She watched his retreating figure, with the tears still
+lingering, and then suddenly she smiled.
+
+"Anyhow, I haven't got to besweet and gentle and housekeepy," was her
+comforting reflection.  "I'm going to be a real worker, earning real
+money, and have Lorraine for my pal as well.  Some day Dudley will see
+it is all right, and I'm only about half as black as he supposes, and
+that I love him better than anything else at heart.  In the meantime,
+as I'm likely to get a biggish dose of dignified disapproval over this
+theatre business, I'd better ask Dick to come out to tea this afternoon
+to buck me up for what lies ahead.  Goodness! what a boon a jolly
+cousin is when you happen to have been mated with your great-aunt for a
+brother."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+For a few years after that particular disagreement nothing of special
+note happened.  Hal got quickly through her course of shorthand and
+typewriting and became Mr. Elliott's private secretary and general
+factotum, which last included an occasional flight into journalism as a
+reporter.  Naturally, since this sometimes took her to out-of-the-way
+places, and brought her in contact with human oddities, she loved it
+beyond all things, and was ever ready for a jaunt, no matter whither it
+took her.
+
+Brother Dudley was discreetly left a little in the dark about it,
+because nothing in the world would ever have persuaded him that a girl
+of Hal's age could run promiscuously about London unmolested.  Hal knew
+better.  She was perfectly well able to acquire a stony stare that
+baffled the most dauntless of impertinent intruders; and se had,
+moreover, an upright, grenadier-like carriage, and an air of
+business-like energy that were safeguards in themselves.
+
+A great deal of persuasive tact was necessary, however, to win Dudley's
+consent to a year in America, whither Mr. Elliott had to go on
+business; but on Mrs. Elliott calling upon him herself to explain that
+she also was going, and would take care of Hal, he reluctantly
+consented.
+
+Curiously enough, it was that year in a great measure that changed the
+current of Lorraine's life.  She came to the cross-roads, and took the
+wrong turn.
+
+Perhaps Miss Walton, with her knowledge of girls, could have foretold
+it.  She might have said, in that enigmatical way of hers, "If Lorraine
+comes to the cross-roads, where life offers a short cut to fame,
+instead of a long, wearisome drudgery, she will probably take it.  Hal
+will score off her own bat, or not at all.  Lorraine will only care
+about gaining her end."
+
+
+Anyhow the cross-roads came, and Hal, the stronger, was not there.  As
+a matter of fact, for some little time the two had not seen much of
+each other.  Lorraine was touring in the provinces, and rarely had time
+to come to London.  Hal was tied by her work, and could not spare the
+time to go to Lorraine.
+
+There was for a little while a cessation of intercourse.  Neither was
+the least bit less fond, but circumstances kept them apart, and they
+could only wait until opportunity brought them together again.  Both
+were too busy for lengthy correspondence, and only wrote short letters
+occasionally, just to assure each other the friendship held firm, and
+absence made no real difference.
+
+Then Hal went off to America, and while she was away Lorraine came to
+her cross-roads.
+
+It is hardly necessary to review in detail what her life had been since
+she joined the theatrical profession.  It is mostly hard work and
+disillusion and disappointment for all in the beginning, and only a
+very small percentage ever win through to the forefront.
+
+But for Lorraine, on the top of all the rest, was a mercenary,
+unscrupulous, intriguing mother, who added tenfold to what must
+inevitably have been a heavy burden and strain - a mother who taxed her
+utmost powers of endurance, and brought her shame as well as endless
+worry; and yet to whom, let it be noted down now, to her everlasting
+credit, no matter in what other way she may have erred, she never
+turned a deaf ear nor treated with the smallest unkindness.
+
+It would be impossible to gauge just what Lorraine had to go through in
+her first few years on the stage.  She seemed to make no headway at
+all, and at the end of the third year she felt herself as far as ever
+from getting her chance.
+
+That she was brilliantly clever and brilliantly attractive had not so
+far weighed the balance to her side.  There were many others also
+clever and attractive.  She felt she had practically everything except
+the one thing needed - influence.
+
+Thus her spirits were at a very low ebb.  She was still touring the
+provinces, and heartily sick of all the discomfort involved.  Dingy
+lodgings, hurried train journeys, much bickering and jealousy in the
+company with which she was acting, and a great deal of domestic worry
+over that handsome, extravagant mother, who had once taken her, in
+company with the so-called uncle, to the select seminary of the Misses
+Walton.
+
+How her mother managed to live and dress as if she were rich had
+puzzled Lorraine many times in those days; but when she left the
+shelter of those narrow, restricting walls, where windows were
+whitewashed so that even boys might not be seen passing by, she learnt
+many things all too quickly.
+
+She learnt something about the uncles too.  One of them was at great
+pains to try and teach her, but with hideous shapes and suggestions
+trying to crowd her mind, the thought of Hal's freshness still acted as
+a sort of protection and kept her untainted.
+
+A little later, after she had commenced to earn a salary, she found
+that directly the family purse was empty, and creditors objectionably
+insistent, she herself had to come to the rescue.
+
+There were some miserable days then.  It was useless to upbraid her
+mother.  She always posed as the injured one, and could not see that in
+robbing her child of a real home she was strewing her path with dangers
+as well, by placing her in an ambiguous, comfortless position, from
+which any relief seemed worth while.
+
+Then at last came the welcome news that Mrs. Vivian had procured a post
+as lady-housekeeper to a rich stockbroker in Kensington, who had also a
+large interest in a West-end theatre.
+
+Lorraine read the glowing terms in which her mother described her new
+home and employer with a deep sense of relief, seeing in the new
+venture a probable escape for herself from those relentless demands
+upon her own scanty purse.  A month later came the paragraph, in a
+voluminous epistle:
+
+"Mr. Raynor says you are to make his house your home whenever you are
+free.  He insists upon giving you a floor all to yourself, like a
+little flat, where you can receive your friends undisturbed, and feel
+you have a little home of your own.  I am quite certain also that he
+will try to help you in your career through his interest in the
+Greenway Theatre."
+
+If Lorraine wondered at all concerning this unknown man's interest in
+her welfare she kept it to herself.
+
+A home instead of the dingy lodgings she had grown to hate, and the
+prospect of influential help, were sufficiently alluring to drown all
+other reflections.
+
+When the tour was over she went direct to Kensington, to make her home
+with her mother until her next engagement.  She was already too much a
+woman of the world not to notice at once that her mother and her host's
+relations seemed scarcely those of employee and employer, and there was
+a little passage of arms between herself and Mrs. Vivian the next
+morning.
+
+In reply to a long harangue, in which that lady set forth the
+advantages Lorraine was to gain from her mother's perspicacity in
+obtaining such a post, she asked rather shortly:
+
+"And why in the world should Mr. Raynor do all this for me, simply
+because you are his housekeeper?"
+
+A red spot burned in Mrs. Vivian's cheek as she replied: "He does it
+because he wants me to stay; and I have told him I cannot do so unless
+he makes it possible for me to give you a comfortable, happy home here."
+
+Lorraine's lips curled with a scorn she did not attempt to conceal, but
+she only stood silently gazing across the Park.
+
+She had already decided to make the best of her mother's deficiencies,
+seeing she was almost the only relative she possessed, but she had a
+natural loathing of hypocrisy, and wished she would leave facts alone
+instead of attempting to gloss them over.  Ever since she left school
+she had been obliged to live in lodgings, because her mother would not
+take the trouble to try and provide anything more of a home.
+
+It was a little too much, therefore, that she should now allude to her
+maternal  solicitude because it happened to suit her purpose.  She felt
+herself growing hard and callous and bitter under the strain of the
+early struggle to succeed, handicapped as she was; and because of one
+or two ugly experiences that came in the path of such a warfare.  She
+was losing heart also, and feeling bitterly the stinging whip of
+circumstances.  As she stood gazing across the Park, some girls about
+her own age rode past, returning from their morning gallop, talking and
+laughing gaily together.
+
+Lorraine found herself wondering what life would be like with her
+beauty and talent if there were no vulgarly extravagant, unprincipled
+mother in the background, no insistent need to earn money, no gnawing
+ambition for a fame she already began to feel might prove an empty joy.
+
+She had not seen Hal for a year, and she felt an ache for her.  In the
+shifting, unreliable, soul-numbing atmosphere of her stage career, she
+still looked upon Hal as a City of Refuge; and when she had not seen
+her for some time she felt herself drifting towards unknown shoals and
+quicksands.
+
+And, unfortunately, Hal was away in America, with the editor to whom
+she was secretary and typist, and not very likely to be back for three
+months.
+
+No; there was nothing for it but to make te best of her mother's
+explanation and the comfortable home at her feet.
+
+As for Mr. Raynor himself, though he seemed to Lorraine vulgarly proud
+of his self-made position, vulgarly ostentatious of his wealth, and
+vulgarly familiar with both herself and her mother, she could not
+actually lay any offence to his charge.  And in any case, he
+undoubtedly could help her, if he chose, to procure at last the coveted
+part in a London theatre.  With this end in view, she laid herself out
+to please him and to make the most of her opportunity.
+
+And in this way she came to chose cross-roads which had to decide her
+future.
+
+Before she had been a week in the house, Frank Raynor deserted his
+housekeeper altogether, and fell in love with the housekeeper's
+daughter.  Within a fortnight he had laid all his possessions a
+Lorraine's feet, promising her not only wealth and devotion, but the
+brilliant career she so coveted.
+
+The man was generous, but he was no saint.  Give him herself, and she
+would have the world at her feet if he could bring it there.  Give any
+less, and he would have no more to say to her whatsoever.
+
+It was the cross-roads.
+
+Lorrain struggled manfully for a month.  She hated the idea of marrying
+a man better suited in every way to her mother.  She dreaded and hated
+the thought of what had perhaps been between them; yet she was afraid
+to ask any question that might corroborate her worst fears.
+
+All that was best in her of delicate and refined sensitiveness surged
+upward, and she longed to run away to some remote island far removed
+from the harsh realities of life.
+
+Yet, how could she?  Without money, without influence, without rich
+friends, what did the world at large hold for her?
+
+How much easier to go with the tide - seize her opportunity - and dare
+Fate to do her worst.
+
+At the last there was a bitter scene between mother and daughter.
+
+"If you refuse Frank Raynor now, you ruin the two of us," was Mrs.
+Vivian's angry indictment.  "What can we expect from him any more?  How
+are you ever going to get another such chance to make a hit?"
+
+"And what if it ruins my life to marry him?" Lorraine asked.
+
+"Such nonsense!  The man can give you everything.  What in the world
+more do you want?  He is good enough looking; he could pass as a
+gentleman, and he is rich."
+
+A sudden nauseous spasm at all the ugliness of life shook Lorraine.
+She turned on her mother swiftly, scarcely knowing what she said, and
+asked:
+
+"You are anxious enough to sell me to him.  What is he to you anyway?
+What has he ever been to you?"
+
+Mrs. Vivian blanched before the suddenness of the attack, but she held
+her ground.
+
+"You absurd child, what in the world could he be to me?  It is easy
+enough to see he has no eyes for any one but you."
+
+"And before I came?"
+
+Lorraine took a step forward, and for a moment the two women faced each
+other squarely.  The eyes of each were a little hard, the expressions a
+little flinty; but behind the older woman's was a scornful,
+unscrupulous indifference to any moral aspect; behind the younger's a
+hunted, rather pitiful hopelessness.  The ugly things of life had
+caught the one in their talons and held her there for good and all,
+more or less a willing slave, the soul of the younger was still alive,
+still conscious, still capable of distinguishing the good and desiring
+it.
+
+The mother turned away at last with a little harsh laugh.
+
+"Before you came he was nothing to me.  He never has been anything."
+
+Without waiting for Lorraine to speak, she turned again, and added:
+
+"If you weren't a fool, you would perceive he is treating you better
+than ninety-nine men in a hundred.  He has suggested marriage.  The
+others might not have done."
+
+"Oh!  I'm not a fool in that way," came the bitter reply, "but I've
+wondered once or twice what your attitude would have been, supposing -
+er - he had been one of the ninety-nine!"
+
+Mrs. Vivian was saved replying by the unexpected appearance of Frank
+Raynor himself.  Entering the room with a quick step, he suddenly
+stopped short and looked from one to the other.  Something in their
+expressions told him what had transpired.  He turned sharply on the
+mother.
+
+"You've been speaking to Lorraine about me.  I told you I wouldn't have
+it.  I know your bullying ways, and I said she was to be left to decide
+for herself."
+
+Lorraine saw an angry retort on her mother's lips, and hurriedly left
+the room.  She put on her hat and slipped away into the Park.  What was
+she to do?... where, oh where was Hal!
+
+Within three months the short cut was taken.  Lorraine was engaged to
+play a leading part at the Greenway Theatre, and she was the wife of
+Frank Raynor.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+When Hal came back from America and heard about Lorraine's marriage, it
+was a great shock to her.  At first she could hardly bring herself to
+believe it at all.  Nothing thoroughly convinced her until she stood in
+the pretty Kensington house and beheld Mrs. Vivian's pronounced air of
+triumph, and Lorraine's somewhat forced attempts at joyousness.
+
+It was one of the few occasions in her life when Lorraine was nervous.
+She did not want Hal to know the sordid facts; and she did not believe
+she would be able to hide them from her.
+
+When Hal, from a mass of somewhat jerky, contradictory information, had
+gleaned that the new leading part at the London theatre had been gained
+through the middle-aged bridegroom's influence, her comment was
+sufficiently direct.
+
+"Oh, that's why you did it, is it?  Well, I only hope you don't hate
+the sight of him already."
+
+"How absurd you are, Hal!...  Of course I don't hate the sight of him.
+He's a dear.  He gives me everything in the world I want, if he
+possibly can."
+
+"How dull.  It's much more fun getting a few things for oneself.  And
+when the only thing in all the world you want is your freedom, do you
+imagine he'll give you that?"
+
+Lorraine got up suddenly, thrusting her hands out before her, as if to
+ward off some vague fear.
+
+"Hal, you are brutal to-day.  What is the use of talking like that
+now?...  Why did you go to America?...  Perhaps if you hadn't gone _"
+
+"Give me a cigarette," said Hal, with a little catch in her voice, "I
+want soothing.  At the present moment you're a greater strain than
+Dudley talking down at me from a pyramid of worn-out prejudices.  I
+don't know why my two Best-Belov�ds should both be cast in a mould to
+weigh so heavily on my shoulders."
+
+Sitting on the table as usual, she puffed vigorously at her cigarette,
+blowing clouds of smoke, through which Lorraine could not see that her
+eyes were dim with tears.  For Hal's unerring instinct told her that,
+at a critical moment, Lorraine had taken a wrong path.
+
+Lorraine, however, was not looking in Hal's direction.  She had moved
+to the window, and stood with her back to the room, gazing across the
+Park, hiding likewise misty, tell-tale eyes.
+
+Suddenly, as Hal continued silent, she turned to her with a swift
+movement of half-expressed protest.
+
+"Hal! you shan't condemn me, you shan't even judge me.  Probably you
+can't understand, because your life is so different - always has been
+so different; but at least you can try to be the same.  What difference
+has it made between you and me anyhow?...  What difference need it
+make?  I have got my chance now, and I am going to be a brilliant
+success, instead of a struggling beginner.  What does the rest matter
+between you and me?"
+
+"It doesn't matter between you and me.  But it matters to you.  I feel
+I'd give my right hand if you hadn't done it."
+
+"How could I help doing it?  Oh, I can't explain; it's no use.  We all
+have to fight our own battles in the long run - friends or no friends.
+Only the friends worth having stick to one, even when it has been a
+nasty, unpleasant sort of battle."
+
+That hard look, with the hopelessness behind it, was coming back into
+Lorraine's eyes.  She was too loyal to tell even Hal what her mother
+had been like the last few months before the critical moment came, and
+at the critical moment itself.  She could not explain just how many
+difficulties her marriage had seemed a way out from.
+
+There had been other men who had not proposed marriage.  There had been
+insistent creditors - her mother's as well as her own.  There had been
+that deep hunger for something approaching a real home, and for a sense
+of security, in a life necessarily full of insecurities.
+
+Obdurate, difficult theatre managers, powerful, jealous
+fellow-actresses, ill health, bad luck!  Behind the glamour and the
+glitter of the stage, what a world of carking care, of littleness,
+meanness, jealousy, and intrigue she had found herself called upon to
+do battle with.
+
+And now, if only her husband proved amenable, proved livable with, how
+different everything would be?  But in any case Hal must be there.
+Somehow nothing of all this showed in her face as she fronted the
+smoker, still blowing clouds of smoke before her eyes.
+
+"What has become of Rod?" Hal asked suddenly.
+
+Lorraine winced a little, but held her ground steadily.
+
+"Rod had to go.  What could Rod and I have done with �500 a year?"
+
+"My own" - from the blunt-speaking one - "it surely seems as if you
+might have thought of that before you allowed Rod to run all over the
+country after you, and get 'gated', and very nearly 'sent down', and
+spend a year or two's income ahead in trying to give you pleasure."
+
+Lorraine flung herself down on the sofa with a callous air, and beat
+her foot on the ground impatiently.  The parting with Rod was another
+thing she did not propose to describe to Hal.  It had hurt too badly,
+for one thing.
+
+"When you moralise, Hal, you are detestable.  Besides, it's so cheap.
+Any one can sit on a table and hurl sarcasm about.  I daresay in my
+place you would have married Rod, from a sense of duty or something,
+and ruined all the rest of his life.  Or perhaps, after gently breaking
+the news, you'd have let him come dangling round to be 'mothered'.
+Well, I don't say I haven't been a bit of a brute to him; but anyhow I
+tried to do the square thing in the end.  I cut the whole affair dead
+off.  I told him I would not see him nor write to him again.  I've
+since sent two letters back unopened, and though you mightn't think it,
+I was just eating my heart out for a sight of him.  But what's the
+good!  He's got to follow in the footsteps of whole centuries of highly
+respectable, complacent, fat old bankers.  His father and mother would
+have a fit if he didn't develop into the traditional fat old banker
+himself, and beget another of the same ilk to follow on.
+
+"I daresay with me he would have developed a little more soul, and a
+little less stomach - but what of it? -" with a graceful shrug.  "For
+the good of his country it is written that he shall acquire weight and
+stolidity, instead of an ideal soul, and for the benefit of posterity I
+sentenced him to speedy rotundity, and dull respectability, and the
+begetting of future bankers.  He will presently marry some one named
+Alice or Annie, and invite me to the first christening in a spirit of
+Christian forgiveness."
+
+Hal smiled more soberly than was her wont.
+
+"And what of you?"
+
+"What of me?... Oh, I don't come into that sort of scheme.  I never
+ought to have been there at all.  Still, I'm glad I showed him he'd got
+something in himself beside the stale accumulations of many banker
+ancestors; if it's only for the sake of the next litte banker, who may
+want to lay claim to an individual soul."
+
+"But it hurt, Lorraine?... don't tell me it didn't hurt after... after
+- "
+
+"Oh yes, it hurt," with a low, bitter laugh; "but what of that eiter?
+It's generally the woman who gets hurt; but I suppose I knew I was
+riding for a fall."
+
+"I don't suppose you are any more hurt than he is.  You know he
+worshipped you."
+
+"Yes; only presently it will be easy for him to get back into the old,
+orthodox groove with 'Alice', and persuade himself that I was only a
+youthful infatuation, whereas I - Oh, what does it matter, Hal!  Come
+out of that 'great-aunt' mood, and let's be joly while we can.  I'll
+ring for coffee and liqueurs, and then we'll make lots of ripping plans
+to see everything in England worth seeing - until I can find time to go
+abroad."
+
+Hal sprang off het table.
+
+"Oh, very well," she rejoined, "Let's get rowdy and sing the song 'Love
+may go hang.'  When I've got it over with Dudley, we'll just go
+straight on, keeping a good look out for the next fence.  You'd better
+tell me something abouth this paternal husband of yours, just to
+prepare me for our meeting.  He doesn't put his knife in his mouth, and
+that sort of thing, does he?"
+
+"No; not quite so bad.  His worst offence at present, I think, is to
+call me 'wifey'."
+
+"Wifey!" in accents of horror.  "Lorraine, how awful!"
+
+"Yes; but I'm breaking him of it by degrees: that and his fondness for
+a soft felt hat."
+
+They sat on chatting together with apparent gayness, but Hal's heart
+was no lighter after she had duly been presented to the paternal
+husband, as she called him, and she journeyed solemnly home on a bus,
+feeling rather as if she had been to a funeral.  She tried at first to
+hide her feelings from Dudley - no difficult matter at all, since he
+usually contributed little but a slightly absent "yes" and "no" to the
+conversation, and if the conversation languished he took small notice.
+
+However, he had to be told, and Hal rarely troubled to do much beating
+about the bush, so, in order to rouse him speedily and thoroughly, just
+as he was settling down to his newspaper she hurled the news at his
+head without any preliminary preparation.
+
+"What do you think Lorraine has done now?  Been and gone and married a
+man old enough to be her father!"
+
+"Married!...  Lorraine Vivian married!"
+
+Dudley's newspaper went down suddenly on to his knee.
+
+Hal had squatted on the hearthrug, tailor fashion, before the fire, and
+she gave a little swaying movement backward and forward, to signify the
+affirmative.  He looked at her a moment as if to make sure she was not
+joking, and then said, with sarcastic lips:
+
+"A man old enough to be her father? ... then it isn't even Rod Burrell!"
+
+"No; it isn't even Rod Burrell."
+
+"Some one with more money and influence, I suppose?  Well, I don't know
+that Burrell needs any one's condolences."
+
+"He does, badly."
+
+"He won't for long.  The Burrells are a sensible lot, and no sensible
+man frets over a hearless woman."
+
+"Lorraine is not a heartless woman.  She has too much heart."
+
+"She is certainly very generous with it."
+
+"I don't know which is the more detestable, a sarcastic man or a
+sensible one."  Hal shut her lips tightly, and stared at the fire.
+
+"I imagine you hardly expect any sort of man to admire Miss Vivian's
+action."
+
+"It doesn't matter in the least what 'any sort of man' thinks.  I am
+only concerned with the possibility that she will weary of matrimony
+quickly and be miserable.  I told you, because I wanted you to hear it
+from me instead of from a newspaper."
+
+Dudley suddenly grew more serious, as he realised how it must in a
+measure affect Hal also.
+
+"Who is he?
+
+"He is a stockbroker, named Frank Raynor, aged fifty."
+
+"And of course she married him for his money ?
+
+"I suppose so. Also he partly owns the Greenway Theatre."
+
+"Pshaw . . . it's a mere bargain."
+
+Hal was silent. She had rested her chin on her hands, and was now
+gazing steadily at the embers.
+
+"Of course if he is not a gentleman, you will have to leave off seeing
+so much of her."
+
+"Not at all. She would need me all the more.
+
+"That is quite possible," drily; "but you owe something to yourself and
+me."
+
+"I couldn't owe failing a friend to any one. But he is a gentleman
+almost - a self-made one, and he doesn't let you forget it."
+
+"Then you've seen him?"
+
+"Yes, to-day." Her lips suddenly twitched with irresistible humour. "He
+called me 'Hal' and Lorraine 'wifey' We bore it bravely."
+
+"What business had he to call you by your Christian name?"
+
+"None. I suppose he just felt like it. He also alluded to my new hat as
+a bonnet. Also he used to be an office-boy or something. He seemed
+inordinately proud of it."
+
+"I loathe a self-made man who is always cramming it down one's throat.
+I don't see how you can have much in common with either of them any
+more."
+
+Hal got up, as if she did not want to pursue the subject.
+
+"It won't make the smallest difference to Lorraine and me," she said.
+
+Dudley knit his forehead in vexation and perplexity, remarking:
+
+"Of course you mean to be obstinate about it."
+
+"No," with a little laugh; "only firm."
+
+She came round to his chair and leant over the back it.
+
+"Dear old long-face, don't look so worried. None of the dreadful things
+have happened yet that you expected to come of my friendship with
+Lorraine. The nearest approach to them was the celebrated young author
+I interviewed, who asked me to go to Paris with him for a fortnight,
+and he was a clergyman's son who hadn't even heard of Lorraine. Next, I
+think, was the old gentleman
+who offered to take me to the White City. IL don't seem much the worse
+for either encounter, do I ? and it's silly to meet trouble half way.
+
+She bent her head and kissed him on the forehead.
+
+"Dudley," she finished mischievously, "what are you going to give
+Lorraine for a wedding-present?"
+
+"I might buy her the book, 'Row to be Happy though Married,'" he said
+dilly, "or write her a new one and call it 'Words of Warning for
+Wifey.'"
+
+"We'll give her something together," Hal exclaimed triumphantly,
+knowing that, as usual, she had won the day.
+
+Then she went off to bed, feigning a light-heartedness she was far from
+feeling, and dreading, with vague misgivings, what the future might
+bring forth.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+It was a little over two years later that the crash came. There was
+first a commonplace, sordid tale of bickering and quarrelling, with
+passionate jealousy on the part of the middle-aged husband, and
+callous, maddening indifference on the part of the now successful and
+brilliant actress
+
+To do Lorraine justice, she was not actively at fault.  Her sense of
+fair play made her try sincerely to make the best of what had all along
+been an inevitable fiasco. She did not sin in deed against the man to
+whom she had sold herself, but in thought it was hardly possible for
+her to give him anything but tolerance, or to feel much beyond the
+callous indifference she purposely cultivated, to make their life
+together endurable. The things that at first only irritated her grew
+almost unbearable afterwards.
+
+Lorraine's father had been a gentleman by birth, breeding, and nature.
+If she inherited from her mother an ambitious, calculating spirit, she
+also inherited from her father refinement, and tone, and a certain
+fineness character, that showed itself chiefly in unorthodox ways, of
+for the simple reason that her life and conditions were entirely
+removed from a conventional atmosphere.
+
+As a man she might merely have lived a double life, conforming to the
+conventions when advisable, and following her own ambitions and bent in
+secret, without ever apparently stepping over the line.
+
+As a woman she could but cultivate callous indifference to a great
+deal, and satisfy her soul by "playing fair" according to her lights,
+in the path before her, but nothing could save her from a mental nausea
+of the things in her husband which belonged to his plebeian origin and
+nature, and which crossed with a shrivelling, searing touch her own
+inherent refinement and high-born spirit.
+
+The objectionable friends he brought to the house she found it easier
+to bear than the things he said about them behind their backs; neither,
+again, was his addiction to drink so trying as his mental coarseness. A
+man who had drank too much could be avoided, but the lowness of Frank
+Raynor's mind seemed to follow and drag hers down.
+
+Yet for two years she held bravely on, cultivating a hard spirit, and
+throwing herself heart and soul into the first delicious joy of
+success. This last surprised even her friends and admirers. A moderate
+hit was quite expected, but not a triumph which placed her almost in
+the first rank, and was due not merely to her acting, but to a bigness
+of spirit and comprehension she had never before had an opporturnty to
+reveal.
+
+It was, indeed, the justification of Hal's devotion. Hal, by her very
+nature, could not love a small-minded woman. What she so unceasingly
+loved and admired in Lorraine was a hidden something she alone had had
+the
+perspicacity to perceive, and could so instinctively rely upon. It was
+the something which, given once a fair opening, carried her quickly
+through the company of the lesser successes, and placed her on that
+high plane which
+demands soul as well as skill.
+
+Then came the dreadful climax. In a drunken, mad moment her husband
+hurled at her that he had been her mother's lover, and proposed to
+return to his old allegiance - had, in fact, already done so.
+
+Lorraine immediately packed up her own special belongings and left his
+roof for ever.
+
+Expostulations, promises, threats, passionate assurances that he had
+not been responsible for what he said failed alike to move her. She
+knew that whether responsible or not he had spoken the truth, and that
+everything
+else either he or her mother could say was false.
+
+Finding her obdurate, he swore to ruin them both; but she told him she
+would sing for bread in the streets before she would go back to him;
+and he knew she meant it.
+
+Fearing his influence against her and his sworn revenge, she went to
+Italy for a year, and hid in quiet villages until his passion should
+somewhat have died, finding herself in the dreadful position, not only
+of being betrayed by her mother, but quite unable to obtain any sort of
+freedom without revealing the black stain upon her only near
+relation.
+
+She could not seek a divorce under the terrible circumstances, and she
+was far too proud and spirited to touch a farthing of her husband's
+money. It was like a dreadful chapter in her life, of which she could
+only turn down
+the page; never, never, obliterate nor escape from.
+
+In the black days and weeks of despair which followed, she often felt
+she must have lost her reason without Hal, and even to her she could
+not tell the actual truth. Hal asked once, and then no more. Afterwards
+it was like a secret, unnamed horror between them, from which the
+curtain must not be raised.
+
+For the rest there was the usual but intenser scene of remonstrance
+between Dudley and Hal with the usual resentful and obdurate
+termination. This time
+Dudley even got seriously angry, unable to see anything but a foolish,
+unprincipled woman reaping a just reward of her own sowing; and for
+nearly a week his displeasure was such that he addressed no single word
+to Hal if he could help it.
+
+Hal, for once, was too wretched about everything to resent his
+attitude, and merely waited for the sun to shine again and the black,
+enveloping clouds to roll away.
+
+She saw Lorraine everyday, in the apartments whence she had fled, and
+helped her to make the necessary arrangements to cancel the short
+remainder of an engagement and get away. She even had one interview
+with the irate husband, but no one ever knew what took place, except
+that Raynor sought no repetition, and seemed afterwards to have a
+respectful awe of Hal's name which spoke volumes.
+
+Accustomed to intimidating women with a curse and an oath, he had found
+himself unexpectedly dealing with two who could scorch him with a scorn
+and contempt far more withering than a vulgar tirade of blasphemous
+language.
+
+Finally the break was made complete. Lorraine got safely away to Italy,
+her mother retired to an English village, and Raynor departed to
+America for good.
+
+For him it was merely a case of fresh pastures for fresh money-making
+and fresh intrigues.
+
+For Mrs. Vivian only a passing exile from the gaieties and extravagance
+she loved.
+
+For Lorraine it meant a hideous memory, a hideous, overwhelming
+catastrophe, and a hideous tie from which she could not hope to free
+herself.
+
+She went away in a state of nervous prostration that was an illness,
+feeling the horror of it all in her very bones, and clinging with a
+silent hopelessness to Hal in a way that was more heart-rending than
+any hysterical outburst.
+
+Yet that Hal was there was good indeed. Hal, who, though only
+twenty-one, could look out on an ugly world with those clear eyes of
+hers, and while seeing the ugliness undisguised, see always as it were
+beside it the ultimate good, the ultimate hope, the silver lining
+behind the blackest cloud. Hal, who could criticise unerringly, with
+direct, outspoken humour,and yet scorn to judge; who had learnt, by
+some strange instinct, the precious art of holding out a friendly hand
+and generous friendship, even to those condemned of the orthodox,
+sufferers probably through their
+own wild and foolish actions, without in any way becoming besmirched
+herself, or losing her own inherent freshness and purity.
+
+It was not in the least surprising that a man as wedded to his books
+and profession as Dudley should fail to realise what was, in a measure,
+phenomenal. By the simple rule of A B C, he argued that ill necessarily
+contaminates, if the one to come in contact is of young and impression-
+able years. There might of course be exceptions, but hardly among those
+as frivolous and obstinate as Hal.
+
+He worried himself almost ill about it all, until Lorraine was safely
+out of England, adding seriously to poor Hal's troubled mind, seeing
+she must stand by the one while longing to soothe and please the other,
+and fretting silently over his anxious expression. But once back in
+their old groove, he quickly recovered his spirits, and even tried to
+make up to Hal a little for what she had lost. Unfortunately, however,
+he hit upon an unhappy expedient.
+
+He tried to persuade her to make a friend of a certain Doris Hayward,
+instead of Lorraine.
+
+Doris's brother had been Dudley's great friend in the days when both
+were articled to the same profession, but a terrible accident had later
+lain him on an invalid couch for the rest of his life.
+
+When clerk of the works of one of London's great buildings, a heavy
+crane had slipped and swung sideways, flinging him into the street
+below. He was picked up and carried into the nearest hospital,
+apparently dead, but he had presently come back, almost from the grave,
+to drag out a weary life as an incurable on an invalid sofa.
+
+Soon afterwards his father died, leaving Basil and his two sisters the
+poor pittance of �50 a year between them.
+
+Ethel, the elder, was already a Civil Service clerk at the General Post
+Office, earning �110 a year, and on these two sums they had to subsist as
+best they could.
+
+Basil earned occasional guineas for copying work, when he was well
+enough to stand the strain, and Doris remained at home with him in the
+little Holloway flat, as nurse and housekeeper.
+
+Dudley, with his usual lack of comprehension where women were
+concerned, evolved what seemed to him an admirable plan, in which Hal
+and Doris became great friends, thereby  brightening poor Doris's dull
+existence, and weaning Hal from her allegiance to the unstatisfactory
+Lorraine.
+
+His plans, however, quickly met with the discouragement and downfall
+inevitable from the beginning.  At first he tried strategy, and Hal, in
+a good-tempered, careless way, merely listened, while easily avoiding
+any encounter.
+
+Then Dudley went a step too far.
+
+"I have to be out three evenings this week, so I asked Doris Hayward to
+come and keep you company, as I thought you might be dull."
+
+"You asked Doris to come and keep _me_ company!" repeated Hal, quite
+taken aback.
+
+"Yes; why not?  She is such a nice girl, and just your age.  I can't
+think why you are not greater friends."
+
+"It's pretty apparent," with a little curl of her lips.
+
+"We haven't anything in common: that's all."
+
+"But why haven't you?  You can't possibly know if you never meet.  She
+seems such a far more sensible friend for you than Lorraine Vivian,"
+with a shade of irritation.
+
+"Probably that is exactly why I don't want her friendship," with a
+light laugh.
+
+"But you might try to be reasonable just once in a way.  Try to be
+friendly to-morrow evening."
+
+Hal, with her quick, light gracefulness, crossed to him, and playfully
+gave him a little shake.
+
+"Dudley, you dear old idiot.  I don't know about being reasonable, but
+I can certainly be honest; and it's honest I'm going to be now.  I
+think it is almost a slur on Lorraine to mention a little, silly,
+dolly-faced, conceited creature like Doris in the same breath; and as
+for being friendly to her to-morrow evening, that's impossible, because
+I shall not be here.  I'm going to the Denisons, and I don't intend to
+postpone it.  You will have to write and tell her I am engaged."
+
+Dudley's mouth quickly assumed the rigidity which denoted he was
+greatly displeased, and his voice was frigid as he replied:
+
+"You are very injust to Doris.  You scarcely know her, and yet you
+condemn her offhand: the fault you are always finding in me.  As for
+any comparison between her and Miss Vivian, it is very certain she
+would not sell herself to a man, and then run away from him because
+things did not turn out as she wanted them."
+
+Hal turned away, with a slight shrug and a humorous expression as of
+helplessness.
+
+"We won't argue, _mon fr�re_, because, since you always read books
+instead of people, you are not very well up in the subject.  To put it
+both candidly and vulgarly, I haven't any use for Doris Hayward at all.
+ Ethel I admire tremendously, though I don't think she likes me; and
+Basil is a saint straight out of heaven, suffering martyrdom for no
+conceivable reason, but Doris is like a useless ornamental china
+shepherdess, which ought to be put on a hight shelf where it can't get
+itself nor any one else into trouble.  I'm really dreadfully afraid if
+I had to spend a whole evening alone with her, I should drop her and
+break her to relieve my feelings."
+
+"Well, you needn't worry" - moving coldly away.  "I have far too much
+respect for Doris to allow her to come here just to be criticised by
+you.  I will explain that you are unexpectedly engaged," and he openend
+a paper in a manner to close the conversation.
+
+Hal made a little grimace at him behind it, and retired discreetly to
+prepare for her daily sojourn in the City.
+
+It happened, however, when, a year later, Lorraine came back to take up
+her theatrical career again in England, there was some vague change in
+her that made Dudley less severe in his criticisms.  Trouble had not
+hardened her, nor softened her, but it had made her a little less sure
+of herself, and a little more willing to please.
+
+Hitherto she had taken rather a pleasure in shocking Dudley, under the
+impression that it would do him good and open his mind a little.  Now
+she had a greater respect for his sterling side, and could smile kindly
+at his little foibles and fads.  The result was that Dudley admitted, a
+trifle grudgingly, she had changed for the better, and rather looked
+forward to the occasional evenings she spent with Hal at their
+Bloomsbury apartments.
+
+He also had to admit that success had in no wise spoilt her, that it
+probably never would.  The year of absence, it was soon seen, had not
+injured her reputation in the least.  She came back to the stage
+renewed and invigorated, and with still more of that depth of feeling
+and atmosphere of soul wich had so enriched her personations before.
+
+She became, very speedily, without any question, one of the leading
+actressess of the day; and the veil of mystery that hung over the
+sudden termination of her short married life, if anything, enhanced her
+charm to a mystery-loving public.  And all the time, as Dudley could
+not but see, she never changed to Hal.
+
+From adulation and adoration, from triumphs that might easily turn any
+head she always came quickly back to the little Bloomsbury sitting-room
+when she could, to have one of their old gay gossips and merry laughs.
+She seemed in some way to find a rest there that she could not get
+elsewhere, in the company of people who expected her to live up to a
+recognised standard of individuality.
+
+And the change in Lorraine was a change for the better in Hal too, who
+began now to tone down a little, and at the same time to strenghten and
+deepen in character.
+
+They were, in fact, a pair it was good to see and good to know.  In the
+first few years after the break-up of her home Lorraine was at her
+handsomest.  Her dark, thick hair had a gloss on it that in some lights
+showed like a bronze glow, and she wore it in thick coils round her
+small head, free from any exaggerated fashion, and yet with a
+distinction all its own.  Her dark eyes once more showed the roguish
+lights of her schooldays, and her alluring red mouth twitched
+mischievously when she was in a gay mood.
+
+A little below the medium height, she was so perfectly built as to
+escape any appearance of shortness, and carried herself so well, she
+sometimes appeared almost tall.
+
+Considering what her life had been, she looked strangely young for her
+years, seeming to combine most alluringly the knowledge and sympathy of
+a woman of thirty-five with the freshness and capacity for enjoyment of
+twenty-five.  The irrevocable tie so far had not clashed with any new
+affection; her husband remained in America and made no sign; and her
+art was all-sufficing.
+
+Hal was built on quite different lines.  Tall, and slender, and well
+knit, she moved with the surging grace of the athlete, and looked out
+upon the world with a joyfulness and humorous kindliness that won her
+friends everywhere.  She was not beautiful in any sense that could be
+compared with Lorraine, but she had pretty brown hair, and fine eyes,
+and a clear, warm skin that made up for other defects, and helped to
+produce a very attractive whole.
+
+Lorraine had taught her how to dress - an art of far deeper
+significance than many women trouble to realise; and wherever Hal went,
+if she did not create a sensation, at least she carried a dinstinction
+and pleasingness that were rarely overlooked.  Her  daily sojourn in
+the City, among the bread-winners, had made her large-hearted and
+generously tolerant, without hurting in any degree her own innate
+womanliness and charm.
+
+She showed in her every gesture and action how it was possible to be of
+those who must scramble for buses, and press for trams, and live daily
+in the midst of panting, struggling, working, grasping humans, without
+losing tone, or gentleness, or a radiant, fearless spritit.
+
+At the office of the newspaper where she filled the post of secretary
+and typist, she was a sort of cheerful institution to smooth worried
+faces and call up a smile amidst the irritability and frowns.
+
+Blunderers went to her with their troubles, and felt fairly secure if
+she would break the news of the blunder or mistake to the irritable and
+awe-inspiring chief.  He, in his turn, would be irritable before her,
+but never with her; and it was a recognised fact among the staff that
+she was almost the only one who could make him laugh.
+
+Thus a few intervening years passed happily enough, briging Lorraine to
+her thirty-first birthday and Hal to her twenty-fifth, without any
+further upheavals to strike a discordant note across the daily round,
+except such inevitable trials as Lorraine continued to meet through her
+mother, and Hal through her devotion to a non-comprehending brother.
+Only, while they had each other and their work, such difficulties were
+not hard to cope with; and life sang a gayer, happier song to them than
+she usually sings to the mere pleasure-seekers.
+
+For work in a wide interesting sphere is a priceless boon, and the men
+who would condemn women solely to pleasure-seeking and the four walls
+of their home are showing the very acme of selfishness, in that they
+are endeavouring to keep solely and entirely for themselves one of the
+best things life has to give.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+It will be remembered, perhaps, that an occasion has already occured
+when Hal had cause to congratulate herself upon the possession of a
+cousin, named Dick, who acted as an antidote to a brother who sometimes
+resembled a great-aunt.
+
+Dick, or to give him his full name, Richard Alastair Bruce, was indeed
+her best friend and boon companion next to Lorraine.  He was her
+earliest playmate, and likewise her latest.  For many months together
+they had been companions in the wildest of wild escapades as children,
+at Dick's country home; and now that they were both responsible members
+of the community, in the world's greatest city, they were equally
+attached.
+
+If Hal was down on her luck, she telephoned Dick to come instantly to
+the rescue, and if it was humanly possible he came.  If Dick wanted a
+sympathetic or gay companion, either to go out with him or to listen to
+his latest inspirations, he telephoned to Hal, and little short of an
+urgent, important engagement would delay her.
+
+At the time he become of any importance in this narrative he was
+established in a flat in the Cromwell Road, as one of a trio sometimes
+known as the Three Graces.  The other two were Harold St. Quintin and
+Alymer Hermon.
+
+The appellation was first given to them when they were freshmen at New
+College, Oxford; partly because they were inseparable, partly because
+they were a particularly good-looking trio, and partly because they all
+three came up from Winchester with great cricket reputations.  Within
+two years they were all playing for the 'Varsity' and one of them was
+made captain.
+
+Three years from the term of their leaving, after each had gone his own
+way for a season, they gravitated together again, and finally became
+established in the Cromwell Road flat, once more on the old
+affectionate terms.
+
+Dick Bruce was following a literary career, of a somewhat ambiguous
+nature.  He wrote weird articles for weird papers, under weird
+pseudonyms, verses, under a woman's name, for women's papers, usually
+of the _Home Dressmaker_ type; occasional lines to advertise some
+patent medicine or soap; one or two Salvation Army hymns of a
+particularly rousing nature: and sometimes a weighty, brilliant article
+for a first-class paper, duly signed in his own name.
+
+Besides all this he visited a publisher's office most days, where he
+was supposed to be meditating the acquirement of a partnership.  Hal
+was very apt at terse, concise definitions, and she was quite up to her
+best form when she described him as "the maddest of a mad clan run
+amok."
+
+Harold St. Quintin, or Quin, as every one called him, was idealist,
+etherealist, and dreamer.  His original intention had been to enter the
+Church, but having gone down into East London to give six months to
+slum work, he had remained two years without showing any inclination to
+give it up.  Sometimes he lived at the flat, and sometimes he was lost
+for a week at a time somewhere east of St. Paul's, where one might as
+well have looked for him as for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
+
+Alymer Hermon, after a sojourn on the continent to study languages, was
+now established with a barrister, waiting, it must be confessed,
+without much concern, for his first brief.
+
+Of the three he was the most striking.  Dick Bruce was only ordinarily
+good-looking, with a very white skin, a fine forehead, and an arresting
+pair of eyes - eyes that were like an index to a brain that held
+volumes of original observations and whimsicalities, and revealed only
+just as much or little as the author chose.
+
+Harold St. Quintin was small and rather delicate, with never-failing
+cheerfulness on his lips, and eyes that seemed always to have behind
+them the recollection of the pitiful scenes among which he voluntarily
+moved.
+
+Alymer Hermon was Adonis returned to earth.  He stood six foot five and
+a half inches in his socks, and was as perfectly proportioned as a man
+may be; with a head and face any sculptor might have been proud to copy
+line by line for a statue of masculine beauty.
+
+When he was captain of the Oxford Eleven, people spoke of his beauty
+more than his cricket, although the latter was quite sufficiently
+striking in itself.  There were others who had sweepstakes on his
+height, before the score he would make, or the men he would bowl.
+
+The 'Varsity' was proud of him, as they had never been proud of a
+captain before, because he upheld every tradition of manliness and
+manhood at its best.  And they only liked him the better that so far
+his attitude to his own comeliness was rather that of boredom than
+anything else.  Certainly it weighed as nothing in the balance against
+the joy of scoring a century and achieving a good average with his
+bowling.
+
+He was equally bored with the young girls who gazed at him in
+adoration, and the women who petted him, and it was a considerable
+source of worry to him that he might appear effeminate, because of his
+blue eyes and golden hair, and fresh, clear complexion, when in reality
+he was as manly as the plainest of hard-sinewed warriors, though the
+indulgence of a slightly aesthetic manner and way of speech, learnt at
+het University, increased rather than counteracted the suggestion of
+effeminacy.
+
+But, taking all things into consideration, he was singularly unspoilt
+and unassuming; and sometimes blended with an old-fashioned, paternal
+air a boyishness and power of enjoyment that could not fail to charm.
+
+The first time that Lorraine met the trio was when Hal took her to
+spend the evening at the flat one Sunday, by arrangement with her
+cousin.  She herself knew all three well, having been to the flat many
+times, but it had taken some little persuasion to get Lorraine to go
+with her.
+
+"Of course they are just boys," said grandiloquent twenty-five, "but
+they are quite amusing, and they will be proud of it all their lives if
+they can say they once had Lorraine Vivian at the flat as a guest."
+
+"What do you call boys?" asked Lorraine, looking amused; "I thought you
+said they had all left college,"
+
+"So they have, but that's nothing.  Dick is only twenty-five, and the
+others are about twenty-four."
+
+"A much more irritating age than mere boyhood as a rule."
+
+"Decidedly; but they really are a little exceptional.  Dick, of course,
+is quite mad - that's what makes him interesting.  Alymer Hermon is a
+giant with a great cricket reputation, and Harold St. Quintin is a sort
+of modern Francis Assisi with a sense of humour."
+
+"The giant sounds the dullest.  I hope he doesn't want to talk cricket
+all the time, because I don't know anything about it, except that if a
+man stands before the wicket he is out, and if he stands behind it he
+is not in."
+
+"Oh no; he doesn't talk cricket.  He mostly talks drivel with Dick, and
+St. Quintin laughs."
+
+"Dick sounds quite the best, in spite of his madness.  A cricketer who
+talks drivel, and a future clergyman working in the East End, don't
+suggest anything that appeals to me in the least."
+
+Nevertheless, when Lorraine, looking very lovely, entered the small
+sitting-room of her three hosts, her second glance, in spite of
+herself, strayed back to the young giant on the hearth-rug.  He was
+looking at Hal sideways, with a quizzical air; and she heard him say:
+
+"It may be new, but it's not the very latest fashion, because it
+doesn't stick out far enough at the back, and it doesn't cover up
+enough of your face."
+
+"Oh well!" said Hal jauntily, "if I had as much time as you to study
+the fashions, I daresay I should know as much about them.  But I have
+to _work_ for my living," with satirical emphasis.
+
+"What a nuisance for you," with a delightful smile.  "I only pretend to
+work for mine."
+
+"We all know that.  You sit on a stool, and look nice, and wait for a
+brief to come along and beg to be taken up."
+
+"It's a chair.  I'm not one of the clerks.  And I shouldn't get a brief
+any quicker if I went and shouted on the housetops that I wanted one."
+
+"Besides, you don't want one.  You know you wouldn't know what to do
+with it if you got it.  Well, how's East London?...  "and Hall crossed
+to the slum-worker, with a show of interest she evidently did not feel
+for the embryo barrister.  Lorraine smiled at him, however, and he
+moved leisurely forward to take the vacant seat beside her on the sofa.
+
+"Is Hal trying to sharpen her wit at your expense?" she asked him, in a
+friendly, natural way.
+
+"Yes; but it's a very blunt weapon at the best.  People who always
+think they are the only ones to work are very tiring; don't you think
+so?"
+
+"Decidedly; and I don't suppose she does half s much as you and I in
+reality."
+
+"Oh well, I could hardly belie myself so far as to assert that.  You
+see, it takes a long time to make people understand what a good
+barrister you would be if you got the chance to prove it."
+
+Hald could not resist a timely shot.
+
+"Personally, I shoud advise you to try and prove it without the chance.
+ The chance might undo the proving, you see."
+
+"What a rotten, mixed-up, meaningless remark!" he retorted.  "Is it
+because you find I am so dull, you still have to talk to me?"
+
+"Quin is never dull, he is only depressing.  Dick, do hurry up and
+begin supper.  I always feel horribly hungry here, because I know Quin
+has just come away from some starving family or other, and I have to
+try and eat to forget."
+
+Lorraine leant across to the dreamy-eyed first-class circketer,
+voluntarily giving his life to the slums.
+
+"Why do you do it?" she asked with sudden interest.  "It seems,
+somehow, unnatural in a ... "  she hesitated, then finished a little
+lamely, "a man like you."
+
+"Oh no, not at all," he hastened to assure her.  "It's the most
+fascinating work in the world.  It's full of novelty and surprises for
+one thing."
+
+She shuddered a little.
+
+"But the misery and want and starvation.  The ... the... utter
+hopelessness of it all."
+
+"But it isn't hopeless at all.  Nothing is hopeless.  And then, knowing
+the misery is there, and doing nothing, is far worse than seeing it and
+doing what one can."
+
+"Oh no, because one can forget so often."
+
+"Some can.  I can't.  Therefore I can only choose to go and wrestle
+with it."
+
+"Of course it is heroic of you, but still! - "
+
+Harold St. Quintin gave a gay laugh.
+
+"It is not a bit more heroic than your work on the stage to give people
+pleasure.  I get as much satisfaction in return as you do; and that is
+the main point.  Slum humanity is seething with interest, and it is by
+no means all sad, nor all discouraging.  There is probably more humour
+and heroism there per square mile than anywhere else."
+
+"And no doubt more animal life also," put in Dick Bruce.  "It's the
+superfluous things that put me off, not the want of anything."
+
+"It's feeling such an ass puts me off," added Hermon; "they're all so
+busy and alert about one thing or another down there, they make me feel
+a mere cumberer of the earth.  A woman manages a husband, and a family,
+and some sort of a home, and does the breadwinning as well.  The
+children try to earn pennies in their playtime; and the men work at
+trying to get work.""
+
+"Whereas you? ..."  suggested Hal with a twinkle, "work at trying not
+to get work."
+
+"Come to supper, and don't be so personal, Hal," said her cousin.  "I
+wrote a poem on you last week, and called it 'Why Men Die Young.'  It
+is in a rag called _The Woman's Own Newspaper_.  It is also in _The
+Youth's Journal_, with the pronouns altered, and a different title; but
+I forget what."
+
+"What a waste of time - writing such drivel," Hal flung at him.  "Why
+don't you compose a masterpiece, and scale Olympus?"
+
+"Too commonplace.  Lots of men have done that.  Very few are positive
+geniuses at writing drivel.  I claim to be in the front rank."
+
+They sat down to a lively repast, and Lorraine found herself, instead
+of an awe-inspiring, distinguished guest, treated with a frank
+camaraderie that was both amusing and refreshing.  They all made a butt
+of Hal, who was quite equal to the three of them; and when the giant
+paraphrased one of her (Lorraine's) most tragic utterances on the stage
+into a serio-comic dissertation on a fruit salad they were eating,
+lacking in wine, she laughed as gaily as any, and felt she had known
+them of years.
+
+Then Hal insisted upon playing a game she had that moment invented,
+which consisted of each one confessing his or her greatest failing, and
+the gaiety grew.
+
+She led off by informing them that she found she always jumped eagerly
+at any excuse to avoid her morning bath.  Dick Bruce followed it up
+with a confession that he found he was never satisfied with fewer than
+four "best girls", because he liked to compare notes between them, and
+write silly verses on his observations; while Harold St. Quintin owned
+to an objectionable fancy for bull's-eye peppermints and blowing eggs.
+
+Alymer Hermon confessed that he loved giving advice to people years
+older than himself, concerning things he knew nothing whatever about.
+
+Lorraine tried to cry off, but, hard pressed, she admitted that she
+liked the excitement of spending money she had not got, and then having
+to pawn something to satisfy her creditors.  "Spending money you will
+not miss," she finished, "is very dull beside spending money you do not
+possess."
+
+Alymer Hermon then suggested they should tell each other of besetting
+faults, and at once informed Hal her colossal opinion of herself and
+all she did was only equalled by its entire lack of foundation.
+
+Hal hurled back at him that every inch in height after six feet
+absorbed vitality from the brain, and that, though his dense stupidity
+was most trying, the reason for it claimed their compassion.
+
+"You pride yourself beyond all reason on your stature," she said, "and
+are too dense to perceive it is your undoing."
+
+Lorraine leant towards him and said:
+
+"Inches give magnanimity: big men are always big-hearted; you can
+afford to forgive her, and retaliate that too much brain-power sinks
+individuality into mere machinery.  I should say Hal's besetting fault
+was rapping every one on the knuckles, as if they were the keys of a
+typewriting machine."
+
+"And yours, my dear Lorraine, is smiling into every one's eyes, as if
+the world held no others for you.  Were I a man, and you smiled at me
+so, I would strangle you before you had time to repeat the glance on
+some one else."
+
+"And Dick's besetting sin," murmured St. Quintin plaintively, "is a
+persistent fancy for other people's ties and other people's boots.  I
+have cause to bless the benign and other people's boots.  I have cause
+to bless the benign providence who fashioned my shoulders sufficiently
+smaller than his to prevent his wearing my coats."
+
+"And yours, Quin," broke in Hermon, "is a fond and loathsome affection
+for pipes so seasoned that the Board of Trade ought to prohibit their
+use."
+
+"After all," Hal rapped out at him, "that's not so bad as love of a
+looking-glass."
+
+"And love of a looking-glass is no worse than love of throwing stones
+from glass houses," he retorted.
+
+"Of course it isn't, Hal," broke in her cousin, "and probably if you
+had anything nice to look at in your glass - "
+
+Hal stood up.
+
+"The meeting is adjourned," she announced solemnly, "and the honourable
+member who was just spoken has the president's leave to absent himself
+on the occasion of the next gathering."
+
+"Excellent," cried Quin, while Hermon in great glee rapped the table
+with his knife handle and exclaimed, "Capital, Dick!...  That drew
+her...  I think you might say it took the middle stump."
+
+"Oh, thank goodness he's got on to cricket," breathed Hal.  "He does
+know a little about that, and may possibly talk sense for ten minutes.
+Come along, Lorraine, and don't address Baby at present, for fear you
+distract him from his game and start him off struggling to be clever
+again.  As it is Sunday night, perhaps Dick would like to read us his
+latest effusions in the way of boisterous hymns!"
+
+She led the way back to the bachelor sitting-room, and for some little
+time Dick amused them greatly with his experiences over editors and
+magazines, and then the two went off together to Lorraine's flat.
+
+At this time she was living at the bottom of Lower Sloane Street, with
+windows looking over the river, and it was generally supposed that her
+mother lived with her.
+
+As a matter of fact, Mrs. Vivian only occupied the ground floor flat in
+company with a friend.  Lorraine give her an income on condition she
+should live there, and so, in a sense, act as a sort of chaperone to
+silence the tongues ever ready to find food for scandal in the fact of
+brilliance and beauty living alone; but mother and daughter had never
+again been on terms of cordiality.
+
+So Hal was often Lorraine's companion for several nights, coming and
+going as she fancied, always sure of a welcome.  To her the flat was a
+constant delight, and in the evening she loved to sit on the verandah
+and watch the gliding river - not to sentimentalise and dream, but
+because she loved London with all her heart and soul and strenght, and
+to her the river was as the city's pulsing heart.
+
+The moist freshness of the air coming across from Battersea Park was
+only the more refreshing after Bloomsbury, and the vicinity of several
+well-known names in the world of art and letters appealed porwerfully
+to her imagination.  Lorraine usually sat just inside the long French
+window, taking care of her voice, and listening contentedly to Hal's
+chatter.
+
+They sat thus for a little while after their return from Cromwell Road,
+and it was noticeable that Lorraine was even more silent than usual.
+Hald told her something about each of their three hosts in turn, while
+showing an unmistakable preference for the slum-worker and her cousin.
+At last Lorraine interrupted her.
+
+"Why  do you say so little about Mr. Hermon?...  you merely told me he
+was a cricketer,which doesn't, as a matter of fact, describe him at
+all."
+
+Hal shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"I suppose he doesn't interest me except in that way."
+
+"But it is a mere side issue.  If he weren't a cricketer he would be
+just as remarkable."
+
+"But he isn't remarkable.  He's only exceptionally big."
+
+"He's one of the most remarkable men I've ever seen, anyway."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, Lorraine.  Besides, he is hardly a man yet.  He's only
+twenty-four."
+
+"I can't help that," with a little laugh.  "I've seen a great many men
+in my life, but I've never seen any one before like Alymer Hermon."
+
+"Why in the world not?  What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, to begin with, he's the most perfect specimen of manhood I've
+ever beheld.  He's abnormally big without the slightest suggestion of
+being either too big or awkward.  He's simply magnificent.  Most men of
+that size are just leggy and gawky: he is neither.  Again, other men
+built as he, are usually rather brainless and weak, or probably made so
+much of by women that they become wrapped up in themselves, and are
+always expecting admiration.  Alymer Hermon has the freshness of a
+delightful boy, with the fine face and courtly manners of a charming
+man.  If you can't see this, it's because you don't know men as well as
+I do."
+
+Hal stepped over the window sill into the room.
+
+"Pooh!" she said impatiently.  "What in the world has happened to you?
+He's just a stuffed blue-and-gold Apollo."
+
+Lorraine got up also.
+
+"He's more than that.  Some day you will see; unless... unles..."
+
+"Well, unless what?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, only a man like that can't expect to escape being spoilt.
+ A certain type of woman will inevitably mark him down for her prey,
+and ruin all his freshness."
+
+"Then you had better take him under your wing," Hal laughed.  "It would
+be a pity for such a paragon to be lost to society.  Personally,
+stuffed blue-and-gold Apollos don't interest me in the least.  Come
+along to bed.  I'm dead tired," and she dragged Lorraine away.
+
+But instead of sleeping, the acress lay silently watching a star that
+shone in at her window, and thinking a little sadly about the man
+nature had chosen to endow so bountifully.  In a few weeks she would be
+thirty-two and he was twenty-four.
+
+Supposing it had been twenty-two instead of thirty-two, and out of his
+splendour he had given his heart to her dark beauty, what a tale it
+might have been - what a fairy-tale of sweet, impossible things, with a
+golden-haired prince and a dark-eyed princess.
+
+She awoke from her day-dream with a touch of impatience, apostrophising
+herself for her folly.  After all, what had a beautiful, successful
+woman at her prime to do with a youth of twenty-four, who played
+foolish games at a supper-table, and was only just beginning to know
+his world?  Of course he would bore her intolerably at a second
+interview, and, closing her eyes resolutely, she drove his image from
+her mind.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The second interview, however, by a mere coincidence, took place at
+Lorraine's flat.  She was walking leisurely down Sloane Street one
+afternoon, after visiting hermilliners, when she ran into the young
+giant going in the opposite direction.
+
+"How so?..." she asked gaily, as is face lit up with a pleased smile,
+and he stopped in front of her.  "Whither away at this hour?  Are you
+chasing a brief?"
+
+"Much too brief," he told her.  "I had to carry some important papers
+to a certain well-known Cabinet Minister; and he did not even vouchsafe
+me a glance of his countenance.  I was given an acknowledgment of them
+by the footman, as if I had been a messenger boy."
+
+"Too bad.  I think you deserve that another celebrity should give you a
+cup of tea, to redeem your opinion of the immortals.  My flat is quite
+near, and I am now returning.  Will you come?"
+
+"Oh, won't I?" he said boyishly, and turned back.
+
+It was the fashionable hour in Sloane Street, when many well-dressed,
+well-known people are often seen walking, and when the road is full of
+private motors and carriages.  Lorraine found herself moving still more
+slowly.  She was accustomed to being gazed at herself, had in fact
+grown a little blas� of it, but the frank admiration bestowed on her
+giant amused and pleased her.
+
+Covertly she watched, as she chatted up to him, for the tell-tale
+consciousness and perhaps heightened colour.  But when he was looking
+back into her face he looked straight before him, over the heads of the
+admiring eyes, and paid no smallest heed to them.  Neither was he in
+the least self-conscious with her.  She wondered if he even realised
+that the t�te-�-t�te he accepted so simply would have been a joy of heaven to
+many.  Anyhow, far from resenting his seeming want of due appreciation,
+she found it made him more interesting.
+
+She spoke of Hal, and he immediately exclaimed: "Hal is a ripper, isn't
+she?  I can't help teasing her, you know; it's the best fun in the
+world."
+
+"Do you usually tease your feminine friends?" she asked.  "I've no
+doubt you have a great many."
+
+"Oh, no, I haven't.  Men pals are far jollier."
+
+"Still, I expect your inches bring you many fair admirers."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders slightly, and looked a trifle bored, and she
+divined that he disliked flattery and probably the subject of his
+appearance.  She adroitly turned the conversation back to Hal, and
+spoke of her until they reached the block of flats.
+
+"Is this where you live?  What a ripping situation!" he exclaimed.  "I
+would sooner be near the river than near Knightsbridge, even if it is
+not so classy."
+
+He followed her into the lift, and then into her charming home, full of
+enthusiasm, and still without exhibiting a shade of self-consciousness.
+
+Lorraine found her interest growing momentarily, as he took up his
+stand on her hearth and gazed frankly around, with undisguised pleasure.
+
+"What a jolly nice room.  It's one of the prettiest I've seen.  You
+have the same color-scheme as the Duchess of Medstone in het boudoir,
+but I like your furniture better."
+
+Lorraine glanced up a little surprised.
+
+"Do you know the Duchess of Medstone?"
+
+"Well, yes" - a trifle bashfully.  "You see, those sort of people ask
+me to their houses because of my cricket.  Private cricket weeks are
+rather fashionable, and I get invitations as the late Oxford captain."
+
+"And do you go to people you don't know?"
+
+"Yes, rather, if I can raise the funds.  The nuisance is the tipping.
+There's always such a rotten lot of servants; and I'm too much afraid
+of them to give anything but gold."
+
+The tea came in, and she saw him glance round for the chair best suited
+to his bulk.
+
+"My chairs were not designed for giants," she told him laughingly; "you
+will have to come and sit on the settee."
+
+He came at once, stretching his long legs out before him, with lazy
+ease, and then drawing his knees up sharply, as if in sudden
+remembrance that he was a guest and they were comparative strangers.
+Lorraine liked him, both for the moment's forgetfulness and the sudden
+remembrance, and as she glanced again at his beautiful head and
+splendid shoulders, she was conscious of a sudden thrill of
+appreciative admiration.
+
+Hal was right in naming him Apollo.  The Sun God might have been
+fashioned just so, when first he ravished the eyes of Venus.
+
+"And so the duchess took you into her boudoir?" she asked, with an
+unaccountable twinge of jealousy.  "I do not know her.  I'm afraid my
+friends are not so aristocratic as yours.  But I believe she is
+considered very handsome."
+
+"Hard," he said, with an old-fashioned air.  "Handsome enough, but very
+hard.  I did not like her nearly so much as Lady Moir, her sister."
+
+"Still no doubt she was very nice to you?"
+
+Lorraine rather hated herself for the question.  The ways of
+aristocratic ladies, whose idle hours often supply a field of labour
+for the Evil One, were perfectly well known to her; and she wondered a
+little sharply how far he was still unspoilt.  The majority of big,
+strong, full-blooded young men in his place would assuredly have sipped
+the cup of pleasure pretty deeply by now, even at his years, but with
+that fine, strong face, and the clear, frank eyes was he of these?  She
+believed not, and was glad.
+
+He did not treat her question as if it implied any special favours, and
+merely replied jocularly:
+
+"Well, I suppose, since her blood is very blue and mine merely tinged,
+she was rather gracious, but of course the really 'blue' people
+generally are."
+
+"Tell me who you happen to be?"  Lorraine leant back against her
+cushions, with her slow, easy grace, asking the question with a
+lightness that robbed it of all pointedness or snobbery.
+
+He seemed amused, for he smiled as he answered frankly:
+
+"I happen to be Alymer Hadstock Hermon, one fo _the_ Hermons all right,
+but not the drawing-room end, so to speak; at the same time tinged with
+her family shadiness  - 'blue' of course I mean - though no doubt it
+applies in other ways as well.  Does that satisfy your curiosity, or do
+you want to know more?"
+
+She loved looking at him, particularly with that humorous little smile
+on his lips, so she said:
+
+"Not half.  I want to know all the rest."
+
+"Very well.  It's quite an open book.  I was born twenty-four years
+ago.  I am an only child, and, as usula, the apple of my mother's eye
+and the terror of my father's pocket.  He, my father, is not much else
+just now except a recluse.  He was recently a member of parliament, a
+Liberal member, and, God knows, that's little enough.  I believe he
+even climbed in by a Chinese pigtail.
+
+"My grandfather was a Judge in the Divorce Court, which doesn't somehow
+sound quite respectable, and my great-grandfather was a writer of law
+books, for which, personally, I think he ought to have been hanged.  I
+can't go any farther back; at any rate I don't want to, because I'm
+certain it's all so correct and dull there isn't even a family
+skeleton."
+
+"Is it the women or the men of the family that are beautiful?"
+
+"Oh, both," with humorous eagerness.  "Skeletons and ghosts we sought,
+and clamoured for, but ugliness, never."
+
+"Well, it's a pity you were not a woman.  Looks are wasted in a man.
+Give a man a ready tongue and a taking manner, and he can usually get
+what he wants, if he's as ugly as a frog.  With you, on the other hand,
+things will come too easily.  You will miss all the fun of the chase.
+On my soul I'm sorry for you."
+
+"The briefs don't come anyway, nor the 'oof': that's all I can see to
+be sorry for."
+
+"You don't want them badly enough, that's all.  If you want the one,
+you'll make love to an influential woman who can get them, and if you
+want the other, you'll marry an heiress."
+
+"I say, you're giving me rather a rotten character, aren't you?"
+
+He faced  her suddenly, and a new expression dawned in his eyes, as if
+he were only just awakening to the fact that she was beautiful.
+
+"Do you really think I'm such a rotter as all that?"
+
+She glanced away, lowering her eyelids, so that her long lashes swept
+the warm olive cheeks, and with a little callous shrug answered:
+
+"Why should you be a rotter for doing what all the rest of the world
+does?  Four-fifths of mankind would give anything for your chances."
+
+"But you just said you were sorry for me?"
+
+"So I am.  So I should be for the four-fifths of mankind, if they got
+all they wanted just for the asking."
+
+He smiled with a sudden, charming whimsicality.
+
+"I don't feel much in need of sympathy, you know.  It's a ripping old
+world, as long as you can indulge a few mild fancies, and be left
+alone."
+
+"Mild fancies!"
+
+She turned on him suddenly.
+
+"What have you to do with mild fancies?  Why, you can have the world at
+your feet with a little exertion.  Haven't you any ambition?  Don't you
+even want to plead in the greatest law court in the world as one of the
+first barristers in Europe?"
+
+"Not particularly.  Why should I?  It would be no end of a fag.  I'd
+far rather be left alone."
+
+"You...  you... sluggard,' breaking into a laugh.  "If I were Fate, I'd
+just take you by the shoulders and shake you till you woke up.  Then
+I'd go on shaking to keep you awake.  You shouldn't be wasted on mere
+nonentity if I held the threads."
+
+But his blue eyes only smiled whimsically back at her.
+
+"I'm jolly glad you haven't a say in the matter.  Why, I should have to
+give up cricket, and take to working!  You're as bad as Quin with his
+slumming, and Dick with his rotten verses."
+
+"You don't know yet that I haven't a say in the matter," she remarked
+daringly.  "Have a cigarette.  I'm awfully sorry I didn't remember
+sooner."
+
+"Indeed, you ought to be," was the gay rejoinder.  "I've been just
+dying for the moment when you would remember."
+
+An electric bell rang out as they were lighting their cigarettes, and a
+moment later Hal danced into the room with shining eyes and glowing
+cheeks.  A few paces from the door she stopped suddenly.
+
+"Hullo, Baby," she said, addressing Hermon, "where have you sprung
+from?"
+
+"I found it wandering alone in Sloane Street," Lorraine remarked, "and
+now we've been teaing together."
+
+Alymer did not look any too pleased at Hal's frank appellation, but
+former remonstrance had only been met with derision, and he knew he had
+no choice but to submit with a good grace.
+
+"I might ask the same question, Lady-Clerk," he replied.
+
+"Don't call me a lady-clerk - I hate the term.  I'm a typist,
+secretary, bachelor-girl, city-worker, anything you like, not a
+lady-clerk - bah!..."
+
+"Then don't call me Baby."
+
+Hal's face broke into the most attractive of smiles.
+
+"I can't help it.  Everything about you, your size, your face, your
+ways just clamour to be called 'Baby'.  Of course if you'd rather be
+Apollo - "
+
+"Good Lord, no: is that the only alternative?"
+
+"I'm afraid so; you needn't go if you don't want to," as he prepared to
+depart.  "We are not going to talk grown-up secrets."
+
+"If I were Mr. Hermon, I'd give you one good shaking, Hal," put
+Lorraine.  "I'm sure you deserve it."
+
+"Not a bit.  Nothing could do him more good than regular interviews
+with me, to undo all the harm he has received in between from silly,
+idiotic women, who make him think he is something out of the ordinary.
+Isn't that so, Baby?  Aren't you labouring under the delusion that
+you're a remarkable fine specimen of humanity?  And all the time,
+Heaven knows, you've about as much  honest purpose and brains as a big
+over-grown school-boy."
+
+"I hope you are not intending to imply he is more richly endowed with
+dishonest purpose?" said Lorraine.
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't mind that," Hal declared, "so long as it was energy and
+purpose of some kind."
+
+"Even to giving you that good shaking," he asked, coming forward a step
+menacingly.
+
+"Not in here," in alarm; "you and I scrapping in Lorraine's
+drawing-room would cost a hundred pounds or so in valuables.  I'll cry
+'pax'," as he still advanced.  "Of course you are rather a fine boy
+really, I was only pulling your leg."
+
+Hermon subsided with a laugh, and Hal proceeded to explain that she had
+come on business, having been asked by the editor of one of their small
+magazines to write up an interview with the actress for him.
+
+"I shall say I found you having a cosy t�te-�-t�te with a young barrister of
+many inches and little brains," she laughed.  "Come, Lorraine, spout
+away.  What is your favourite hors d'oeuvre?  Did you feel like a
+boiled owl at your first appearance?  And which horse do you back for
+next year's Derby?"
+
+She started scribbling, to the amusement of the other two, carrying on
+a desultory conversation meanwhile.
+
+"This isn't anything to do with my department, but I like Mr. Hadley,
+and he was keen about it, and offered me three guineas, so I said I'do
+do it...  Are your eyes yellow or green?  For the life of me, I don't
+know.  Which would you rather I called them? ...  I've got to go to
+Marlboro' House to-morrow to get up a short and vivid account of a
+garden party, because Miss Alton, who generally does it, is down with
+'flu'.  Were you a prodigal as a kid? no; I mean a prodigy...  Fancy me
+at Marlboro' House!  Awful thought, isn't it?  How they dare?
+
+"What is your favourite pastime?  Shall I put down shooting?  I know
+you don't know one end of a gun from the other, but it doesn't matter;
+and it reads rather well - something unique about it in an actress."
+
+"Why not put angling, and give some of my dear enemies a chance to ask
+what for?"
+
+"Or jam-making," suggested Alymer, "and redeem the stage in the eyes of
+the British matron."
+
+"Oh, don't talk... how can I write?  Shall I bring myself in, and dig
+up the dear old chestnut of David and Jonathan?...  or shall I describe
+Dudley's disapproval melting into undisguised worship," she rippled
+with laughter as she scribbled on.  "Oh dear, think if Dudley were to
+find it, and read it, because he hasn't even discovered yet that he has
+ceased to disapprove.
+
+"Who's your favourite poet?  I might say Dick Bruce; he would write a
+book of poems at once.  And Quin might be your hero in real life.  Do
+you know where you were born?  Up in the Himalayas sounds nice and
+airy, and it might as well have been there as anywhere."
+
+"If you want anymore you must get it while I eat my dinner," said
+Lorraine, rising.  "I have to try and be at the theatre at seven just
+now.  You may as well both dine with me, and you can come to my
+dressing-room afterwards if you like, Hal."
+
+"No, thank you"; and Hal pulled a wry face.  "I've seen quite enough of
+the wings, and the green-room, and all the rest of it.  You might take
+Baby, just to show him the real thing, and put him off it once for all."
+
+She turned to Hermon.
+
+"Have you ever been behind the scenes?  I used to go sometimes, just
+for the fun of it, while it was a novelty; but it quite cured me of any
+possible taste of the stage.  Most of the performers were so nervous
+they could hardly speak, their teeth just chattered with cold and
+fright mingled, and the gloom of it was like a vault.  And then all the
+gaping, staring faces in rows, looking out of the darkness.  You can't
+think how idiotic people look seen like that.  It always suggested to
+me that both stage and stalls were like children playing at being
+lunatics."
+
+"That's only your dreadfully prosaic, unromantic mind, Hal.  You just
+like to write newspaper articles, and type letters, and smother your
+imagination under dry-and-dust facts."
+
+"Smother my imagination," echoed Hal, with a laugh.  "Why, it would
+take the imaginations of fifty ordinary people to concoct some of the
+paragraphs we fix up during the week.  My imagination is a positive
+goldmine at the office, at least it would be if they dare print all
+that I suggest."
+
+"You should run a paper yourself," suggested Hermon; "a few libel
+actions would made it pay like anything."
+
+"Ah, you haven't seen Dudley," with a little grimace.  "Dudley would
+have a fit and die before the first action had had time to reach its
+interesting stage.  I'd take you home to see him now, but he happens to
+have gone up to Holloway to dinner."
+
+"I'm dinning out myself, so I must fly."  He turned to Lorraine, with a
+gay smile.  "I say, may I come and dine with you some other time?"
+
+"Come to the Carlton on Sunday, will you?"
+
+Lorraine hardly knew why she made the sudden decision; she only knew
+perfectly well she would have to break another engagement to keep it,
+and that she was foolishly gland when he accepted.
+
+"It's all right; you needn't ask me," volunteered Hal, as her friend
+glanced at her.  "I'm going motoring with Dick, and I shall insist upon
+staying out until ten or eleven.  I always try and fill my Sundays full
+of fresh air.  "Where are you going to-night, Baby?" she added, with a
+charmingly impudent smile.
+
+"The Albert Hall, with Lady Selon"; and a twinkle shone in his eyes.
+
+"Goodness gracious!  What in the world are you going to the Albert Hall
+for? and who is Lady Selon?"
+
+"She is Soccer Selon's sister-in-law, and she asked me to take her to a
+concert.  Is there anything else you would like to know?"
+
+"Her age?" archly.
+
+"Somewhere about thirty-five, I should imagine."
+
+"Oh! your grandmother, or thereabouts.  Well, skip along.  Tell Dick to
+call for me early on Sunday."
+
+When he had said good-bye to Lorraine and departed, Hal held up her
+hand, hanging in a limp fashion.
+
+"I wish you'd teach him to shake hands, Lorry.  It feels like shaking a
+blind cord and tassel.  Are you going to mother him?  What an odd idea
+for you to bother with a boy!  You surely don't mean to tell me he
+interests you?"
+
+"I like to look at him.  He's such a splendid young animal.  I feel -
+oh, I don't know what I feel."
+
+"Lots of London policemen are splendid young animals, but you don't
+want t�te-�-t�te teas with them if they are."
+
+"You absurd child!  Is there any reason why I shouldn't have tea with
+Mr. Hermon, if it amuses me?"
+
+"None specially; but if it's just a splendid young animal to look at,
+you want, I daresay it would be safer to import a polar bear from the
+Zoo."
+
+Lorraine felt a spot of colour burn in het cheeks, but she only laughed
+the subject aside, and alluded to it no more before they parted at the
+theatre door.
+
+Only at a late supper-party that night she was quieter than was her
+wont; and, contrary to her habit, one of the first to leave.  A
+well-known rising politician, who had been paying her much attention of
+late, prepared, as usual, to escort her home.  She wished he would have
+stayed behind, but had no sufficient reason for refusing his company.
+He taxed her with silence as they spun westwards, and she pleaded a
+headache, wondering a little why all he said, and looked, and did,
+somehow seemed banal and irritating to-night.
+
+He was so sure of himself, so fashionably blas�, so carelessly clever, so
+daringly frank, with all the finished air of the modern smart man,
+basking callously in the assured fact of his own brilliance and
+superiority.  She knew that most women would envy her the attentions of
+such a one, and that his interest was undoubtedly a great compliment,
+as such compliments go; but to-night she found herself remembering all
+the other women who had reigned before her, all those who would
+presently succeed her, and she was conscious of an impatient disgust of
+all the shallowness and insincerety of the fashinable, successful man.
+
+"May I come in?" he asked, when they reached the flat, looking rather
+as if he were conferring a favour than soliciting one.
+
+"No; it is too late.  Good-night."
+
+"Too late!... " he laughed a little, and Lorraine felt her temper
+rising.  "It is not exceptionally late, a little earlier than usual in
+fact.  Why mayn't I come in?"
+
+"Because I don't want you," she said coldly, and she saw him bite his
+lip in swift vexation.
+
+"I shall certainly not press you," he retorted, and turned away.
+
+At the window of her drawing-room Lorraine lingered a few moments,
+gazin with a half-longing expression at the gleam of the lights on the
+dark flowing river.  What was it that gave her that strange sense of
+heartache to-night?  Why had her usual companions bored and irritated
+her?  Why did Alymer Hermon's fine, boyish, refreshing face come so
+often to her mind?
+
+She was certainly not in love with him.  The mere idea was ridiculous,
+but it was equally certain that something about him had given rise to
+this vague unrest and longing.  Was it perhaps that he called to her
+mind the youth she had never known, the young splendid, whole-hearted
+years, when it was so easy to believe and hope and enjoy that which
+life had never given her time for?
+
+True, the world was at her feet now, just as much as it would ever be
+at his, but with what a difference?  For her, with the work and stain
+of the knowledge of much evil, and little good.  For him, at present,
+with aal the glorious freshness of the morning.
+
+She glanced back into the dim room, and among the shadows she saw him
+standing there again, towering up upon her hearthrug, before her
+hearth, with that youthful, frank assurance that was so attractive.  Of
+a truth he was unspoilt yet, unspoilt and splendid as the dawn of the
+morning - but for how long?
+
+What would they make of him presently, the women of the world, who must
+needs worship such a man, and strew their charms before him.  How was
+he to keep his freshness, when temptation hemmed him in on every side?
+
+She felt a sudden yearning as of hungry mother-love towards him.  If he
+had been her son, her very own son, how she would have fought the whole
+world to help him keep his armour bright, and his colours flying high.
+
+And instead?...
+
+The wave of hungry mother-love was followed by one as of swift and
+angry protest.  Who had ever cared whether she kept her armour bright
+and her colours flying high?  Had not life itself mocked at her early
+aspirations, and trampled jeeringly on her untutored, unformed high
+desires?  What chance had she ever had, long as she might, to keep the
+morning freshness?
+
+Well, what of it?  She had sought and striven for fame, and fame had
+come; she was a poor creature if she could not look life in the face
+now, and laugh above her wounds.
+
+And in the meantime perhaps she could help him fight some of those
+other women still; the women who would drag him down for their own
+satisfaction, and care nothing for the hurt to him.
+
+Anyhow, she would try to be good pal to him, and not a temptress.  For
+once she would fight for some one else's hand instead of her own, and
+gain what satisfaction she could in feeling herself a true friend.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+About the time that the three in the Chelsea flat were leave-taking, a
+stream of women-clerks in the long passages of the General Post Office
+proclaimed that pressure of work had again meant "overtime" to these
+energetic City-workers.
+
+In consequence, there was a lack of elasticity in the many passing
+feet, and the suggestion of a tired silence in the cloak-room; for
+though the girls hastened to get away from the dreary monotony of the
+huge building, they were, many of them, too tired to depart as joyfully
+as was their wont.
+
+Yet most of them, behind the tiredness, looked out upon the world with
+clear, capable eyes, and strong, self-reliant faces, that spoke well
+for the spirit of their set.  Up there in the big office-rooms, year in
+year out, these refined, well-educated women kept ledgers and accounts
+and did the general office work of the Civil Service with a precision
+and neatness and correctness equal to the work of any men, and
+invariably to the astonishment of any interested visitor who was
+permitted to inquire into the system.
+
+Yet the majority of their salaries ranged from �90 a year to �210, and they
+were obliged to pas an examination of no mean stamp to attain a post.
+Small wonder that many of them, having to help support others as well
+as keep themselves, had the delicate, listless, anaemic appearance of
+underfed women badly in need of fresh air, good food, and wholesome
+exercise.
+
+The policy of Great Britain towards her women workers is surely one of
+the greatest contradictions of our enlightened age.  Even putting aside
+the vexed question of suffragism, how little has she ever done to try
+and cope with the needs of working womanhood?
+
+In som Government departments, as, for instance, the Army Clothing
+Department, it is a known fact that the women are actually sweated; and
+that in the higher branches, employing gentlewomen, they pay them the
+lowest possible wage, not because the work is ill-done, but because,
+owing to present conditions, plenty of gentlewomen are found to accept
+the offer.
+
+Many of these gentlewomen lose their health in their struggle to obtain
+good food, decent lodging, and a neat appearance on  Government
+salaries, knowing full well that the moment they fall out of the ranks
+numbers will be waiting to fill their places.
+
+And in the meantime enlightened authors and politicians write articles,
+and make speeches, holding forth upon the charm and beauty of the Home
+Woman, and drawing unflattering comparisons between her and the worker.
+
+Comfortable elderly gentlemen, who have had successful careers and can
+now afford to dine unwisely every night, and keep their daughters in
+well-dressed indolence, self-satisfied, self-aggrandising,
+self-advertising young politicians, who, having obtained an attentive
+public, delight to cant about the rights of the citizen and the good of
+the Empire, clever, intuitive, charming novelists, who apparently
+possess an unaccountable vein of dense non-comprehension on some points
+- all harp upon this theme of the Home Woman, and the Home Sphere, and
+the infinite superiority, in their own lordly eyes, of the gentle,
+domesticated scion of the family hearth.
+
+As if one-fourth of the women wage-earners, gentle or otherwise, in
+England to-day had any choice in the matter whatever.  The rapidity
+with which a vacant place in the ranks is filled and the numbers
+waiting for it is surely sufficient proof of that; to say nothing of
+the pitiful conditions under which many, gentle and otherwise, cling to
+their posts long after a merciful fate should have given them the
+opportunity to save the remnants of their shattered health amidst
+country breezes.
+
+It is useless to cry out to the woman that work and competition with
+men is unbecoming to her.  She _must_ work, and she _must_ compete, and
+seeing this, it is surely time the British Government accepted the fact
+magnanimously, and took more definite steps to assure her welfare.
+
+If it can only be done through woman's suffrage, then woman's suffrage
+must surely come, because, whether British legislators care for the
+good of women or not, nature does care, and as the race moves forward
+the working woman will have to be protected.
+
+It has been seen over and over again that no band of politicians, nor
+powerful men, nor tape-bound State can long defy any advancing good for
+the needs of the whole.
+
+Wheter women work or not, they are the mothers of the future; and
+because this fact is greater than the sum of all other facts brought
+forward by the narrowness and short- sightedness of men, we may safely
+believe that, since they _must_ work, nature will see to it that they
+work under the most favourable conditions, no matter what rich men have
+to go the poorer for it.
+
+Pity is that the hour is so delayed; that narrowness, and selfishness,
+and self-aggrandisement still flourish, to the eternal cost of those of
+England's mothers who bring weaklings into the world, through the hard
+conditions of their enforced labour.
+
+The _true patriot_ of to-day will agitate not only for the highest
+possible efficiency in the Navy and Army; but, with no less resolve and
+sincerety, for the best possible conditions obtainable for all
+women-workers, that the Empire may not later sink suddenly to decay, in
+spite of her defences, through the impoverished, feeble, sickly
+off-spring who are all the men she has left.
+
+The _true patriot_ will accept the ever-strengthening fact, however
+unpalatable, that the development and emancipation of womanhood has
+brought women to the front as workers, _to stay_; and he will perceive
+that therefore it is incumbent upon the men to endeavour to find that
+happy mean, where they can work together to the advantage of both, and
+to the stability and greatness of a beloved country.
+
+Only now the women-workers toil bravely on, heartening each other with
+jests under conditions in which it is extremely likely men would merely
+cavil and sulk and fill the air with their complainings; dressing
+themselves daintily through personal effort in spite of meagre purses;
+throwing themselves with a splendid joyousness into their few precious
+days of freedom; banding themselves together often and often to wring
+occasional hours of gaiety from the months of toil; keeping brave eyes
+to the front and brave hearts to the task, while they wait steadfastly
+for the day when their worth shall be appreciated and their claims
+recognised.
+
+Hastening to the office in the morning, or hastening home (probably to
+cook their own dinner) at night, they read those clever, carefully
+worded articles and speeches by the men of power and weight, harping
+upon the charm and beauty and superiority of the Home Woman; and they
+laugh across to each other with a frank, rather pitying, rather
+irritated laughter, at the extraordinary dull-wittedness of some
+brilliant brains.
+
+They wonder gaily how these enlightened, clever gentlemen would like it
+if they all became sweet Home women in the workhouses, cultivating
+elegant gardens, and floating round in flowing gowns at their expense.
+
+The men call them "new women" with derision, or mannish, or unsexed;
+but those who have been among them, and known them as friends, know
+that they hold in their ranks some of the most generous-hearted,
+unselfish, big-souled women to exist in England to-day; and that it is
+just because of that they are able to plod cheerfully on, and laugh
+that indulgent, pitying little laugh, when an outraged man swells with
+virtuous indignation, and waxes eloquent upon their want of womanly
+attributes.
+
+Of such as the best of these was Ethel Hayward.  Among the crowd now
+hurrying more or less tiredly into the open air, she might not have
+been noticed.  So many had white faces, dark-circled eyes,
+shabby-genteel clothing, and just a commonplace fairness, that in the
+throng it was difficult to discover distinguishing attributes.
+
+One had to see her apart, and note the quick, urgent step, the
+independent, lofty poise of her head, and the steadfastness of the
+tired eyes, and firm, strong mouth, to feel that life had given her a
+heavy burden, which only a noble soul could have supported with heroism.
+
+As she left the portals of the General Post Office she hesitated a few
+seconds as to her direction.  "Should she go straight back to the
+little flat in Holloway, or should she go west, and get the
+drawing-paper Basil was wanting?"
+
+Doris could easily get the drawing-paper the next day, if she chose;
+and at the flat Dudley Pritchard would have arrived for the evening.
+She surmised hastily that it was extremely probable Doris had made some
+other engagement for herself that she would be unwilling to delay, and
+that Dudley would in no wise regret her own tardy return.
+
+The last thought caused her eyes to grow a little strained, as she
+walked quickly westwards - strained with the determination to face the
+fact unflinchingly, and try to overcome the deep, insistent ache it
+caused.
+
+But the love of a lifetime is not dismissed at will, and looking a
+little pitifully backward, though she was but twenty-eight, Ethel felt
+she could not remember the time when she did not love Dudley Pritchard,
+though it had perhaps only crystallised into the great feature of her
+life at the time when, in silent, heroic endeavour, he had given of all
+he had to win his friend back to life and health.
+
+It was Dudley's careful savings that he had paid for the great
+specialist and the big operation; Dudley's courage and devotion that
+had nerved the stricken man to take up the awful burden of perpetual
+invalidism; Dudley's never-failing encouragement and friendship that
+helped him still to bear the dreary months of utter weariness, in the
+little home kept together by his sister's salary.
+
+High up in the dreary-looking block of flats in Holloway, attended
+through the day by the erratic ministrations of Doris, and at night  by
+the yearning tenderness of Ethel, Basil Hayward dragged out a weary
+martyrdom, that prayed only for release.  In vain Ethel murmured over
+him, that to work for him was a glory compared to what it would be to
+live without him; in the silent, tedious hours of her absence, his soul
+broke itself in hopeless, passionate protest against the decree that
+compelled him to accept his daily bread at the hands of the sister he
+would gladly have striven for day and night.
+
+It as a martyrdom across which one can but draw a curtain, and stand
+"eyes front".  Look this way, look that, what answer is there, what
+reason, what explanation, of the hidden martyrdoms of the work-a-day
+world, which the blank wall of heaven seems to regard with utter
+unconcern?
+
+Mankind to-day is less disposed than ever of yore to calmly fold the
+hands and say, "It is the will of God."  They can no longer do so
+honestly without either blaming or criticising the Divine Will that not
+merely permits, but is said to send, such martyrdoms.
+
+Better surley to accept bravely the enigma of the universe, and strive
+to lessen the suffering in our own little sphere, believing that same
+Divine Will is striving with us to mitigate the ills humanity has
+brought upon itself through blind disobedience and careless
+indifference to the laws of nature.
+
+Uncomplaining resignation may help by its example, but the resignation
+which sits with folded hands and makes no effort to amend, is only a
+form of feebleness.  The strong soul accepts life silently as a field
+of battle, asking for energy, resource, courage, and that fine spirit
+which obeys the unseen general in unquestioning faith.
+
+It was only in such a spirit, through those years of pain and mysgtery,
+that Ethel was able to witness her passionately loved brother's
+martyrdom, and give all the years of her youth to earn that pour salary
+from a wealthy Empire, to keep some sort of a home for the three of
+them in the little, dingy Holloway flat.
+
+For even if Doris had been capable of sustained endeavour, the
+bedridden man could not have been left alone for long, and no choice
+was left them but to eke out Ethel's pitiful �110 salary between them.
+
+Often perhaps a passionate resentment burned in her heart concerning
+the heavy handicaps under which a woman achieves work equal to a man's;
+but she had no time to lend herself to any open protest, and toiled on,
+silently fighting her individual daily battle the better encouraged by
+those brave women taking all the opprobrium of the warfare upon their
+own shoulders, for the sake of working womanhood as a whole.
+
+Only, of late a fresh burden had been added in the fear that Dudley was
+growing to care for her sister Doris.
+
+It was not that she grudged Doris the happiness, nor the prospect of a
+home in which she and Dudley might together take care of Basil; but she
+saw ahead the tragedy of the awakening, when Dudley learnt of the
+shallow, selfish little heart behind Doris's charming exterior.
+
+That he, of all people, should be drawn to such an one was only the
+contradiction seen on all sides in life.  Because he had that
+old-fashioned distrust of the independent, self-reliant woman, he must
+needs go to the opposite extreme, and let himself be drawn to one
+capable of little else in the world but ornamentation.  Doris, she
+knew, was fitted only to be a rich man's plaything.  Dudley, she felt
+instinctively, would start off by expecting of her things she had never
+had to give, and in his dismay and disappointment might wreck both
+their lives.
+
+Yet she felt powerless to take any step that might save them from each
+other, knowing full well that Doris, bored with her life at the flat,
+had decided that even life with Dudley would be better.  And even as
+Ethel hastened westwards, instead of towards home, Doris with infinite
+pains put the finishing touches to her pretty hair, and took a last
+survey of her dainty person before the well-known step should sound on
+the stone staircase outside their unpretentious litte door.
+
+She had been very irritable with the invalid, because he was trying to
+get a plan copied quickly, and wanted a special arrangement of light,
+just when she was ready to go and dress after preparing the dinner; but
+when at last Dudley knocked on the door, Doris opened it to him with a
+face of such charming innocence and smiles that irritability would
+never have been imagined in the r�pertoire of her characteristics.  A
+little helpless, a little childish, she might be, but what clever man
+does not love a clinging woman?
+
+"It was so nice of you to come," she said.  "It is such a dreary place
+to turn out to after your long day at the office."
+
+"But I love coming," he answered simply.  "You know I do."
+
+He looked at her with unconscious admiration, and Doris noted for the
+hundredth time that although he was not particularly tall, nor
+particularly good-looking, nor particularly anything, yet his thin,
+clean-shaven face had a clever, distinguished air, and he had
+unmistakably the cut and breeding of a gentleman.  She knew that even
+if he were only moderately well off, and could not afford the dash she
+loved, he was at least good to be seen with, and a man who might one
+day make his mark.  So, though she deprecated most of the qualities
+which were in reality his best points, she decided in her calculating
+little head she would seriously contemplate becoming Mrs. Dudley
+Pritchard.
+
+His greeting with the invalid was, for Dudley, a little boisterous -
+the result of a hint from Ethel.  He would probably never have had time
+to see for himself that such a man as Basil Hayward would hate a
+pitying air or invalid manner, but he was sympathetic enough to respond
+quickly to a suggestion that the latest cricket or football news, gaily
+imparted, was far more pleasing to the invalid than a sympathetic
+inquiry after his health.
+
+For Basil Hayward, sufferer and martyr, was prouder of his near
+relationship to a celebrated international cricketer than he would ever
+had been of his own sublime courage had it been lauded to the skies.
+Life had left him little enough, but "give me the power still to glory
+in every manly and athletic achievement of my countrymen," was his
+unspoken request.
+
+So they discussed the latest sporting news of the world, and then had a
+great argument on a plan of Dudley's for a competition for a
+grand-stand and pavilion on a celebrated aviation ground, while they
+waited for Ethel.
+
+The small flat had only one sitting-room, and while they talked Doris
+flitted gracefully about, putting the finishing touches to the table.
+Afterwards she sat on a low chair under the lamp, so that the light
+fell full on her pretty hair, while she bowed her head with unwonted
+industry over a piece of sewing.
+
+Occasionally she glanced up at the two men, meeting Dudley's eyes with
+a pretty confiding look that only added to her charm.
+
+"Ethel is so late.  I wonder if we had better wait," she said at last.
+"She told me on no account to do so."
+
+Basil glanced at the clock a little anxiously.
+
+"It is too bad," he murmured; "they have no right to expect so much
+overtime work.  She is sure to come soon."
+
+"Yes; but I think she would like us to begin"; and Doris rose slowly.
+"It will save time when she does come in."
+
+It was plain Basil disapproved, but she pretended not to see it, and in
+a short time she and Dudley were seated t�te-�-t�te, while the invalid
+remained on his couch.  They were gay from spontaneity of pleasure, and
+Hal would have been surprised at the cheeriness of het grave brother,
+had she seen how he responded to Doris's playful mood.
+
+Then Ethel"s key sounded in the door, and it was as though a slight
+shadow fell upon them.  Doris wished she had been later still; Dudley
+seemed to grow grave again, from habit, and Basil watched the door like
+a big devoted dog, with eyes of hungry love.
+
+As she entered her first glance was for him, and her nod and smile ere
+she turned to greet the visitor hid all her own weariness, and was
+reflected in a light of glad welcome on the sick man's face.
+
+"I'm so glad you didn't wait," she said; "I stayed to get the
+drawing-paper."
+
+"But why did you, dear?" he asked, with quick remonstrance.  "Doris
+could easily have gone to-morrow."
+
+"Of course I could"; and Doris skilfully threw a hurt tone in her
+voice, which Dudley was quick to detect.
+
+"I wanted to walk," was all Ethel said, as she moved away to take off
+her hat and coat.
+
+But in spite of her efforts the gaiety did not return, and Doris grew a
+little pensive and sad.
+
+Dudley, with his surface reasoning, saw in her attitude something that
+suggested the other two were in the habit of being entirely wrapped up
+in each other, to the exclusion of the young sister.
+
+Ethel might be a remarkably clever and capable woman; he knew perfectly
+well that she was just as able with her fingers as her brain, and did
+nearly all the upholstering and dressmaking of the household in her
+evening free time; but wasn't she just a little superior and
+self-satisfied also - just a little unkindly indifferent to the
+monotony and dulness of her young sister's existence?
+
+Dudley found his sympathy go out more and more to those childlike eyes,
+and the pretty, clinging ways; and a sort of half-fledged resentment
+grew up against the elder sister.  He could not choose but admire her,
+if it were only for her devotion to her brother, but he felt a vague
+something, in his thoughts of her, that he could not express, and
+remained grave.
+
+Ethel, watching them both covertly while she moved about helping Doris
+to clear away the dinner things, guessed at much that was passing in
+his mind, and unconsciously grew a little strained in her manner to
+him.  That he should pity Doris and blame her seemed at last irony, but
+it could not be helped; and not even to win his love could she attempt
+to change her natural manner, and appear what might better please him.
+
+She even said "good-night" a little coldly, and remained beside Basil
+while Doris went out into the tiny hall with him to get his hat and
+coat.
+
+Doris seemed to Dudley a lonely little figure out there in the dim
+light, with just the suggestion of a droop about her lips and
+wistfulness in her eyes.  He believed that she found herself left out
+in the cold with those other two, but was too proud to complain.  He
+felt a tenderness springing up in his heart and spreading to his eyes
+as he leaned towards her with a protecting air.
+
+She was small and fragile.  It made him feel big and protective; and he
+liked it.  Has was so tal and straight and slim and boyish - not in the
+least the sort of person one could really feel protective to; and he
+liked clinging women...  His head bent down quite near to hers as he
+said in a low tone: "I suppose they are like lovers, those two, and you
+feel a little out of it, eh?"
+
+"Yes" - confidingly and gratefully - "and it makes me very unhappy,
+because I love to slave for Basil just as much as Ethel does.  But he
+does not want me... " with a little sad air.
+
+"Oh, I think you are mistaken.  It could never be that.  It is only
+that they have always been so devoted, and I expect it is too lonely
+for you here.  You do not get enough change.  Would you care to go to
+the White City with me on Thursday evening?"
+
+"Oh, I should love it!" and there was a quick gleam in her eyes.
+
+"Very well, I will arrange it."  His hand closed over hers lingeringly.
+ "Good-bye.  Don't be despondent.  I will let you know where to meet
+me.  We might have dinner at a restaurant first; shall we?"
+
+Again she expressed her delight, and Dudley went off with a glow of
+pleasure that was a surprise to him.
+
+But behind the closed door Doris smiled a little smile in the darkness,
+that had none of the artless innocence of the smiles reserved for him.
+
+"Ethel would just give her head to go with him," was her first thought;
+and then, "I hope he won't go to a cheap restaurant."
+
+In the sitting-room Ethel was putting the last touches to the invalid's
+comfort for the night, moving about busily.  Doris leaned against the
+table, and made no attempt to help her.
+
+"Dudley wants me to go to the White City with him on Thursday evening.
+ I said I would."
+
+"Thursday is the night I have to go and see Dr. Renshaw"; and Ethel
+glanced round with a shadow of vexation on her face.
+
+"I know it is, but you will not be very late."  She paused, then added,
+"I do not get so many treats that I can afford to miss one."
+
+"Dudley could probably have gone any other night.  Did you ask him?"
+
+Ethel spoke a little quickly, and Doris looked ready with a sharp
+retort, when Basil interposed.
+
+"Thursday will be all right, chum.  Doris won't leave before six and
+you will get in by half-past seven.  I shall have nearly two whole
+hours in which to do any silly thing I like, without getting scolded";
+and his smile was very winsome.
+
+"I don't like you to have to wait so long for your dinner.  You always
+get faint.  Perhaps Dr. Renshaw would see me another evening...  I -"
+
+"Oh, nonsense, chum" - in the same cheery voice - "I'll have a tin of
+sardines, and eat one every ten minutes until you come."
+
+Ethel let the matter drop, seeing it would please him best, and Doris
+retired to their room with a slightly sulky air.
+
+"There always seems to be something to damp it if I am to have a
+treat," was her complaint.
+
+"I don't think you will feel damped after you start," Ethel replied
+quietly, and they went to bed in silence.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+When Dudley got back he found Hal waiting up for him, with an
+expression of shining eagerness on her face.
+
+"Oh, Dudley, such fun!" she began, "Lorraine has got the royal box for
+me for Thursday evening.  We must have a little dinner-party.  Who
+shall we take?  It holds four comfortably, and two men could stand at
+the back."
+
+"Thursday evening!" looking a little taken aback.  "I am engaged."
+
+"Engaged!  Well, you must put it off.  Why didn't you tell me?  I
+thought you said you had any night free except Friday."
+
+"I only made the engagement this evening."
+
+"Are you going to see Basil again?  He won't mind being put off."
+
+"No.  It isn't Basil."
+
+"What then?"
+
+Dudley turned away, threw his gloves carelessly down on a sidetable,
+and picked up some letters.
+
+"I asked Doris to go to the White City with me."
+
+"You... you asked Doris to go to the White City?... " she repeated
+incredulously.  "What in the world for?"
+
+"To see it, of course.  What else should I ask her for?"
+
+"Oh, Heaven only knows!  Why ask her at all?  I should certainly upset
+her into the canal from sheer irritation if she came with me."
+
+"Such nonsense."  He knit his forehead into a decided frown.  "You are
+so unfair to Doris.  You used to complain that I was unfair to
+Lorraine.  I was never as unfair as you are now.  You don't really know
+Doris at all; and she has never done anything to hurt you."
+
+"It doesn't follow that she wouldn't if she had the chance.  You're so
+awfully dense about women, Dudley.  Why didn't you invite Ethel
+instead?  She is worth a hundred Dorises.  Then we could have taken her
+to the theatre."
+
+His voice and manner grew very cold.
+
+"I don't agree with you, but it is not a subject I care to discuss.  Is
+there any reason why Doris should not be invited to the theatre?"
+
+"None whatever, except that I don't propose to ask her."
+
+They faced each other a moment almost angrily, except that whereas
+Dudley was distinctly vexed, Hal was a little scornful, and
+half-laughing.
+
+"Then I cannot come either, and" - he paused a moment, to add with
+decision - "I object to your going unchaperoned."
+
+"Do you mean that you wish me to give up the box?"
+
+"You know what I mean."
+
+Hal was thoughtful a moment, and then remarked with sudden glee:
+
+"I know what I'll do.  I'll take the Three Graces, and persuade Quin's
+aunt to come as chaperone.  Then we'll all have supper with Lorraine
+afterwards.  You shall have a nice, quiet, interesting evening with
+Doris, and I'll get two stalls for you for another night."
+
+She moved about, gathering up her things.
+
+"You don't know Quin's aunt, Lady Bounce, do you?  She's the dearest
+old soul, and she loves a theatre.  Night-night, old boy; don't keep
+Doris too long near the canal, in case you are taken with my
+inclination"; and she went gaily off, humming a popular air.
+
+Dudley read through his letters without grasping any of their contents.
+ For the first time Hal's attitude to Doris seriously worried him, and
+he felt vaguely there was trouble ahead.
+
+But when Thursday came, and they were together, she again had the same
+pleasing effect upon his senses, and he let himself be persuaded that
+if Hal grew to know her better, she could not choose but grow fond of
+her.
+
+In the meantime a group in the royal box at the Greenway Theatre was
+causing no small interest to a crowded house.
+
+There was Hal, with her smart, well-groomed air, gleaming white neck
+and arms, and her white, even teeth that looked so attractive even in
+the distance when she smiled.
+
+Dick Bruce, spruce and scholarly, hugely pleased with himself, because
+he had an article in _The National Review_, on the strenght of the
+colonies in war time; and some lines entitled "Baby's Boredom" in
+_Fireside Chat_, concerning which he had already announced his
+intention of standing the champagne for their supper with the cheque.
+
+Of the other two occupants it would be difficult to say which attracted
+the most attention.  Alymer Hermon, with his immense stature and
+splendid head, or Quin's aunt, Lady Bounce, who presented so striking a
+resemblance to another well-known little old lady sometimes seen at the
+theatre, that friends of the last-mentioned were utterly puzzled.
+
+Surely only one little lady in London wore that early Victorian dress,
+with the ringlets and "grande dame" air, and sat with such genuine
+delight and enjoyment through a play?  And yet why did she not look out
+for her numerous friends, down there in the stalls, and recognise them?
+
+And who in the world was she with?  If that were indeed Lady Phyllis
+Fenton - and it seemed incredible it should not be - who was the
+splendid young giant, and who the white-faced girl with the brilliant
+smile?
+
+And all the time, absorbed in the play and her companions, the little
+old lady smiled and talked, calmly indifferent to the many eyes below
+waiting for the expected bow of recognition.
+
+Quin, apparently, had not been willing to desert his slummers for a gay
+West-end theatre; so Hal was only escorted by two Graces instead of
+three, but the light in her eyes, for any one near enough to see,
+suggested she was enjoying herself to the utmost in spite of it.
+
+Then came the final sensation, of the little old lady in her strange
+costume and ringlets, passing through the vestibule, on the arm of the
+young giant, followed by the sleek-looking, well-groomed pair of
+cousins, who chatted to each other with an air of the utmost unconcern
+towards the curious glances now levelled at them upon all sides.
+
+"It _must_ be Lady Phyllis Fenton," said some.  "It _can't_ be," said
+others.  "Then who the devil is it?" asked the men.
+
+And still the little group passed on, smiling and unconcerned, though a
+red spot burned in the giant's smooth cheeks, and he carefully avoided
+any possibility of meeting Hal's gleaming eyes.
+
+A roomy electric brougham was awaiting them, and then the watchers said
+it glided away: "Surely that is Lady Phyllis's car and liveries?"
+
+But what they would have made of the scene inside the car it is
+difficult to say, for the dear little old lady suddenly collapsed
+backwards on her seat, with a howl of laughter, and shot into the air a
+pair of trousered legs.
+
+"Oh my conscience!" gasped Quin, amid choking laughter.  "It will be
+the sensation of the season; and when Aunt Phyllis gets to hear about
+it she'll first have a fit with wrath and then laugh until she's ill."
+
+"I'd no idea you were such an actor, Quin," Hal exclaimed admiringly
+when she could speak; "you ought be holding crowded houses enthralled,
+instead of slumming."
+
+"Heaven preserve me.  Theatres are mostly mummies looking at mummies.
+Down east I get in touch with flesh and blood - the real thing; and I
+prefer it.  But I wouldn't have missed to-night for something.  Oh,
+lord!... just think of the people who know Aunt Phyllis that I must
+have cut; and all the fuss there will be when aunt is admonished for
+supping at the Savoy with an actress!  We aren't half through the fun
+yet."
+
+With which they all went off into fresh peals of laughter, at various
+reminiscences, and were bordering upon a condition of imbecility when
+Lorraine at last joined them with the latest news.
+
+""It's positively immense," she said.  "The manager told me Lady
+Phyllis Fenton had come with Miss Pritchard, and to-morrow every paper
+will announce it, and the mystery will grow.  I 'phoned for a private
+room at the Savoy, to keep the puzzle up.  She must only be seen
+passing through on Mr. Hermon's arm.  How splendid they must look.  I
+almost wish I wasn't in the secret."
+
+"Oh, they do!" Hal cried.  "Alymer ought to have had knee breeches and
+silk stockings, and they would look just perfect. I have to talk fast
+to Dick, or I should give it all away in my face."
+
+"You'll have to settle with your aunt," Lorraine laughed to Quin.  "I
+hope she won't cut you off with a shilling."
+
+"She will be furiously angry and terrifically interested," he said.  "I
+expect I shall have to take you all to dinner to show her what the
+party looked like.  Of course, Bonne, her maid, will give it away,
+because I borrowed the garments from her, and said they were for a play
+I was getting up in the East End."
+
+"You'll have a bad half-hour with Dudley," Dick remarked to Hal, with
+enjoyment.  "He is sure to hear of it somewhere."
+
+"Quite sure," resignedly; "but if it were a bad two hours it would
+still have been worth it.  It reminds me of the old days at school,
+Lorraine, when we used to get into scrapes on purpose, if the fun made
+it worth while."
+
+There was no gayer supper party in the Savoy that night, and the
+champagne paid for with the proceeds of "Baby's Boredom" proved none
+the less vivifying for the insipidity of its source.  Dick insisted
+upon reciting his doggerel, and Quin was not only much toasted as "Lady
+Bounce", but carried kicking round the room by the giant, because in a
+moment of forgetfulness he used a swear-word, which they all insisted
+was a reflecton upon the conversation of his illustrious aunt.
+
+Lorraine, in most amusing form herself, laughed until she was tired
+out, and wondered why she was not bored.  She asked the question of
+Alymer Hermon, who was privileged to see her home, while Dick returned
+with Hal, and Quin beat a hasty retreat to get rid of his disguise.
+
+"After all, you are only boys," she said, with a little smile, "and
+I'm... well, I'm Lorraine Vivian."
+
+The giant gazed thoughtfully out of the brougham window a moment, and
+from her corner Lorraine looked long, and a little sadly, at the finely
+modelled head and profile.
+
+"Perhaps," he said at length, "a great many people you meet make a
+special effort to please you, and try to make an impression on you.  We
+being all so young, and just nobodies, realise the uselessness of
+wasting our efforts, and are merely natural."
+
+She smiled in the shadow, and glanced away from him with the sadness
+deepening.
+
+"I feel to-night I should like to be one of you - so young and just
+nobody.  It would be a pleasant change."
+
+"I don't think you would like it at all."
+
+He looked at her with a slightly puzzled air.
+
+"Only the other day you were speaking to me of achievement and
+ambition.  You seemed to care so much.  You must be glad."
+
+"Oh yes, yes," wearily; "but it isn't enough by itself.  There is
+something I have missed, and to-night I feel that it might outweight
+all the rest - something to do with being young, and careless, and
+fresh, and just nobody."
+
+Still looking at her with slightly puzzled, very kindly eyes, he
+answered simply, "I'm so sorry."
+
+She seemed to shrink away suddenly into her corner.  The very
+simplicity of his sympathy, and the quiet, natural friendliness in his
+face, stirred some strange chord in her heart with a swift,
+unaccountable ache.  He looked so big and strong and splendid there in
+the shadow, with his freshness and his charm; and she felt very
+brain-fagged and world-weary; and without in the least knowing why, or
+what led up to the desire, she wanted to feel his arms about her, and
+his freshness soothing her spirit.
+
+And instead he was not even attempting to make love to her, not even
+flirting with her.  Would any other man she knew have ridden beside her
+thus after the gentleness she had shown?  Was that perhaps the very
+secret of his attraction?  Or was it a physical allurement - the
+irresistible charm of bigness and strength, independent of anything
+else, drawing with its time-old sway?
+
+She had no time to probe further, as the brougham stopped at her door.
+He handed her out with the deference so often met with in big men,
+remarking width an old-fashioned air that suited him to perfection:
+
+"I'm afraid we have all tired you very much.  It was good of you to
+come with us.  I can't tell you how much we appreciate it."
+
+"Oh, indeed no; you refreshed me.  Good-night.  Stevens will run you
+home.  Don't forget Sunday", and she moved away.
+
+"It must be his bigness," was her last thought as her head touched the
+pillow.  "When I am used to it, no doubt the novelty will pass, and I
+shall find him merely boyish, and be rather bored."
+
+"I wonder if it is her dainty smallness," Dudley was musing, away in
+his Bloomsbury lodging, feeling still, with a pleasant thrill, the
+touch of Doris's small hand on his arm, and seeing again the upward,
+confiding expression in her wide blue eyes.  "Odd that Hal should be so
+far astray in her judgment, when she is usually so clever; but if she
+knew her better she would change her mind."
+
+As for Hal herself, she hastily tumbled into bed, still chuckling in
+huge enjoyment over her evening.
+
+"Those boys are just dears," was her thought, "and I wouldn't have
+missed Lady Bounce for the world.  What a good thing Dudley was taken
+with paternal affection for that little fool Doris, and I had to have a
+chaperone.  Heigh-ho! what a scene there will be if he hears about it;
+but what's the odds so long as you're happy?  And oh dear! what will
+Lady Phyllis Fenton say when she finds out"; and once more the even
+teeth flashed an irresistible smile into the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+It was force of habit chiefly that caused Lorraine, as a rule, to sleep
+long and late on Sunday mornings; and it was greatly to her advantage
+that for so many months, and even years, no mental anxiety had robbed
+her of a splendid capacity to rest.  She seemed to have a faculty for
+limiting her worrying hours to the daylight, and being able to lay them
+aside, like her correspondence, at night.
+
+Yet on the following Sunday morning she found herself early awake, with
+a brain only too ready to begin probing restlessly, and having little
+of the calm friendliness she intended it should have towards her guest
+of the evening.
+
+To add to her unrest, her mother paid her an early visit, of a sort
+that had been growing too frequent of late.  It was not enough that
+Lorraine paid her rent, and gave her a handsome allowance; when there
+chanced to be no one else to pay her debts, these came upon Lorraine's
+shoulders also.
+
+T-day it was a long, rambling tale of a hard-hearted dressmaker who,
+having had a new frock back for alteration, had taken upon herself to
+return the skirt, without the bodice, with an intimation that she was
+retaining the delayed portion until her long account was settled.
+Hence Mrs. Vivian found herself with what she called a most important
+engagement, without the equally important new frock to go in.
+
+Lorraine lay under the bedclothes, with only her head showing, and
+watched her a little coldly, as she moved restlessly about the room
+airing her woes.  She had promised Madame Luce, over and over again, to
+settle in a week or two; and who would have believed the odious woman
+would serve her such a trick?
+
+Never again, if she had to go naked, would she order a garment from her
+of any description whatever.  And the friends she had sent to her as
+customers!  Why, half the woman's trade was owing to her introduction.
+
+"Perhaps the friends don't pay their bills," Lorraine suggested in a
+tired voice.
+
+Mrs. Vivian drew herself up a little haughtily.
+
+"I do not think there is any occasion to cast reflections on my
+friends, even if you do not choose to be sociable to them," which
+remark was intended as a dignified hit at Lorraine's invincible
+determination to maintain friendly relations with her mother, without
+having anything whatever to do with her mother's friends.
+
+As many previous hits, it fell quite  harmlessly; it was doubtful if
+Lorraine even heard it, half hidden there in the bedclothes with her
+tired eyes.
+
+"I suppose it isn't any use reminding you that your personal
+expenditure exceeds mine?" she hinted, "and that you have already far
+overstepped the allowance we stipulated?"
+
+"You do not have time to go about as much as I do, and it makes a great
+difference not having hosts of friends."
+
+"You don't seem to get much pleasure out of them," Lorraine could not
+resist saying, knowing as she did how much of her salary went into the
+pockets of these so-called friends, in order to buy their adherence.
+
+"Do I get much pleasure out of anything?" irritably.  "My only child is
+one of the first actresses in London, and what is it to me?  Do I have
+the pleasure of going abouth with her? or living with her? or taking
+any part in her success?"
+
+"I suppose it isn't such a small thing to live by her.  If I were not
+successful, we could certainly not live here.  It might have been
+Islington and omnibuses," and she smiled.
+
+"As if that were all.  Probably, as real companions we might have been
+even happier in Islington."
+
+Lorraine stiffened.  "Companions!...  Ah, I, with whom else ever
+dancing attendance, and changing in identity every few months?"
+
+But she made no comment, for the days of her hot-headed, deep-hearted
+judging were over; and from behind inscrutable eyes she looked upon the
+things that one sees without seeming to see them, and accepted facts
+that hurt her very soul, with a callous, cynical air that defied the
+keenest shafts of probing.
+
+It was her armour in an envious, merciless world, that would have
+rejoiced before her eyes if it could have driven in a barbed arrow even
+through her mother.
+
+More than once a jealous enemy had tried and failed, routed utterly by
+Lorraine's cynical, cool treatment of a fact that she knew no
+persuasion nor arguing could have helped her to refute.  She did not
+even weep about it now in secret.
+
+It was as though she had shed all the tears she had to shed during that
+year of utter revulsion spent in the Italian Riviera, companied by the
+passionless solitudes of snowtopped mountains.  Something of a great
+patience and a great gentleness had come to her then, helping her to
+hide the loathing she could not crush, and place the fact of motherhood
+first of all.
+
+As her mother, she had taken Mrs. Vivian back into her heart, and given
+her generously of what worldly possessions she had.  And she had done
+it with a wondrous quiet and absence of all ostentation either
+outwardly or inwardly.  It had never occured to Lorraine that, whether
+it was a duty or not, after what had passed it was certainly a fine act
+upon her part.
+
+She had not questioned about it at all.  To her mother's apologetic
+gush she had merely turned calm eyes and a strong face.
+
+"It isn't worth while to remember the past at all," she had said; "we
+will just begin again on rather different lines.  I'll always let you
+have as much money as I can spare."
+
+Mrs. Vivian had been a little taken aback by the new Lorraine who
+returned from Italy; and not a little afraid before the calm,
+inscrutable eyes; so that she had secretly rejoiced at the arrangement
+which gave her a separate establishment of her own; but none the less,
+in bursts of righteous indignation supposed to emanate from her
+outraged feelings as a mother, she usually chose to make it her pet
+grievance.
+
+And still Lorraine only smiled the tired smile, and glanced carelessly
+aside with the inscrutable eyes until the tirade was over, the coveted
+cheque made out, and her own little sanctum once again in peaceful
+possession.
+
+Only just occasionally, if the interview had been specially trying, she
+might have been seen afterwards to glance whimsically across to the
+picture, recently enlarged from an old photograph, of a fine-looking
+man in full hunting-rig standing beside a favourite hunter.
+
+"Poor old dad," she murmured once; "I don't wonder you couldn't keep up
+the old place.  I don't know how you got along at all without my
+salary."
+
+Once when she was feeling the drag of it all a little keenly she told
+the man in the picture: "Mother is splendidly handsome, and I daresay I
+owe her a good deal; but thank God you were there with your fine old
+name and family to give me the things that matter most.  It sometimes
+seems as if we had got each other still, dad, and, for the rest, some
+are frail in one way and some another, and fretting doesn't help any
+one."  The fine eyes had grown more whimsically wistful looking into
+the face of the huntsman as she finished: "Anyhow, the last favourite
+is second cousin to a duke, and she pointed out to me, he might have
+been only a butcher."
+
+How much Hal knew of her mother's life Lorraine had never been able to
+gauge, but she had reason to think she knew something and was sporting
+enough to pretend otherwise.  If so, she blessed her for it, feeling
+that by that generous non-acknowledgment she rendered a service both to
+her and her dead father.
+
+Yet it seemed strange that any one so young and fresh as Hal should be
+able to act thus, instead of suffering a violent repulsion.  Was it the
+depth of her splendid friendship; or was it a naturally adaptable,
+common-sense nature; or was it non-comprehension?
+
+As time passed and she grew to know Hal yet better, she felt
+instinctively it was the first of these, coupled with that true
+sportsman-spirit which was one of her strongest attributes.
+
+Lorraine was not the only one who felt that whether Hal had any
+religion or not, or any faith, through good and ill, by easy paths and
+difficult, one might be absolutely sure that she would "play the game."
+ It made her feel herself richer with her one friend than with her
+mother's admitted hosts, and though she seemed to hesitate and reason
+on that Sunday morning, both knew the cheque would finally be written,
+and the coveted garment rescued in time for the important lunch.
+
+Only, afterwards, a shadow seemed to linger to-day that heretofore
+would have vanished with the departing figure.  The sunshine crept
+through the drawn curtains, lying like a shaft of hope across the
+gloom, but it brought no answering gleam into the beautiful eyes, with
+their tired, far-off gaze.
+
+It was all very well for Hal to be a main feature in her life, blessing
+it with her friendship, while she turned kindly, unseeing eyes away
+from the corners where the murky shadows lay: Hal, who knew about the
+mad, discreditable marriage and its violent termination, and probably
+also of her mother's insatiable thirst for admiration and excitement at
+any cost.
+
+There was something about Hal in herself that was as a shining armour,
+against which unkind barbs fell harmlessly, and enabled her to go on
+her serene and joyful way in blissful non-attention.
+
+But could it be the same with this treasured only son, who was
+doubtless destined for a hight place in the world by doting parents,
+and other proud bearers of the same old name?  Of course he might sup
+and trifle with certain denizens of the theatrical world galore; it
+would only be part of his education, and a thing to wink at, but she
+already doubted whether such a slight companionship would have any
+attraction.
+
+In spite of his youthfulness, there was something in him that would
+naturally and quickly respond to the fine shades in herself, and grow
+into a friendship that had no part with the casual, gay
+acquaintanceships of the theatre and the world.
+
+In a sense he was like Hal, and she knew that just as she attracted
+Hal's devotion in spite of all disparity of years and circumstances,
+so, if she chose, she could make this young giant more or less her
+slave.
+
+But was it worht it?
+
+What did she, on her high pedestal, want with his young admiration?
+What did she want with a companion so undeveloped that she herself must
+awaken his strongest forces?
+
+Through the gloom, unheeding the shaft of sunlight, she saw him again,
+towering up there on her hearth, with his young splendour, so
+extraordinarily unspoilt as yet; and she knew that, reasonable or
+unreasonable, she was attracted far beyond her wont.
+
+And then she thought of his easy-going temperament, his lack of
+ambition, his half-sleepy attitude towards life.
+
+What if the wheels ran so smoothly for him that the latent forces were
+never aroused, and little achieved of all that might be?
+
+If love came at his asking, and a sufficiency of success to satisfy an
+easy-going nature, what would there ever be to stir depths which she
+truly believed were worth stiring?  Was it so small a thing to help a
+fine soul forward to its best attainment?...  was such an aim not worth
+some going aside for both?
+
+She felt there were things she could teach him, which without her he
+might entirely miss; and if without her he were the better according to
+a conventional standard, he might yet be far the poorer in the big,
+deep things of life.
+
+Well, no doubt circumstances would end by suiting themselves, with or
+without her agency.  In the meantime why worry, in a world that it
+would seem worked out its own ends, sublimely indifferent to the
+individual?
+
+They were going to dine together to-night anyhow; their first t�te-�-t�te
+dinner and evening: time enough to probe and worry when she was more
+sure a mutual attraction existed; wiser at present to seek a counter
+attraction for her own sake, that she might not uselessly build a
+castle without foundations.
+
+Prompt as ever, she reached out for the receiver beside her bed and
+rang up the Albany to know if Lord Denton were awake yet.
+
+"I'm not awake," came back a sleepy answer.  "I am asleep, and dreaming
+of Lorraine Vivian.  If my man wakes me now, I shall curse him solidly
+for half an hour."
+
+"Well, will you dream you are going to take her for a spin into the
+country shortly?  I happen to know she is fainting for the longing to
+breathe country air."
+
+"In my dream I am already waiting at her door, with the Yellow Peril
+spluttering its heart out with delight, and eagerness to be off.  I
+have even dreamt she managed to put a motor bonnet on in half-an-hour -
+is it conceivable - or should it be half a day?"
+
+"No, your dream is right.  Be outside the door in half an hour, and you
+will see."
+
+An hour later they were spinning out into Surrey at an alarming pace,
+both silently revelling in the freshness and motion and the fact that
+they were too old friends to need to trouble about conversation.  When
+they dived into the lanes he slowed down, remarking:
+
+"I suppose we mustn't risk scrunching any one up."
+
+Lorraine only smiled, remaining silent a little longer, and then she
+suddenly asked him:
+
+"When you feel yourself inclined to fall in love foolishly what do you
+do?"
+
+"Well... as a rule..." he began slowly and humorously, "I either cut
+and run, or I hurry to see so much of her that I am bound to get bored."
+
+"The first plan sounds the safest, but would often be the most
+difficult of execution.  Supposing the second miscarries and you don't
+get bored?"
+
+"Well, then I think - usually - there is an awful moment when I have to
+tell her I can't afford both a motor and a wife; and to be motorless
+would kill me."
+
+A sudden little twitching at the corners made Lorraine's mouth
+dangerously fascinating.
+
+"Evidently you have never fallen in love with me," she said, "for you
+have not been driven to either way of escape."
+
+He looked into her face with an answering humour, and a twinkle in his
+eyes as alluring as her smilling lips.
+
+"Because when I fell in love with you I did it sensibly, and not
+foolishly," was his answer; "instinct told me I couldn't have you for
+my wife however much I wished it, so I said myself: 'Flip, old boy,
+she'll make a thundering good pal, you close with it,' and I did."
+
+She made no comment, and he went on more seriously:
+
+"You see, even if you became marriageable and I cut out the motor, you
+wouldn't be attracted to an ordinary sort of cove like me.  I suit you
+down to the ground as a pal, but it wouldn't go any farther."
+
+"I wonder why you think that?"
+
+"I don't exactly _think_ it - thinking is too much bother - but it's
+just there, like a commonplace fact.  You are all temperament, and
+high-strung nerves, and soul, and enthusiasm, and that sort of thing,
+which makes you a great actress.  I'm just a two-legged, superior sort
+of animal, who hasn't much brain, but knows what he likes, and usually
+does it without wasting time on pros and cons.  Consequently, I'm just
+as likely to end in prison as anywhere else, and take it without much
+concern as all in the day's work.  You are more likely to end in a
+nunnery, as the most devout of all the nuns."
+
+"What an odd idea!  Why a nunnery?"
+
+"Oh, because it's an extreme of one sort or another, and you are made
+for extremes.  You'll perhaps be very wicked first" - he smiled
+delightfully - "after which, of course, you'd have to be very good.
+It's the way you're made.  I'm cut out on quite a different plan.  I
+can't be 'very' anything, unless it's very drunk after the Oxford and
+Cambridge at Lord's."
+
+"Do you think I could be very wicked?"  She asked the question with a
+thoughtfulness that amused him greatly, and he answered at once:
+
+"I haven't a doubt of it.  You are probably plotting the particular
+form of wickedness at this very moment."
+
+She laughed, and he went on in the same serio-comic mood:
+
+"I quite envy you.  It mus be very thrilling to think to oneself, 'I've
+dared to be desperately wicked.'  You cease to be a nonentity at once
+and become a force.  You get right to hand-grips with the big elemental
+things.  Of course that is interesting, but it usually means a
+confounded lot of bother."
+
+"You are as bad as Hal Pritchard.  She announced the other day she
+would rather have a dishonest purpose than no purpose at all."
+
+"It's the same idea, only Miss Pritchard lives up to her creed by being
+full of energy and purpose; whereas I can't be anything but a mediocre
+waster.  I've neither the pluck to be wicked, not the energy to be
+good, nor enough purpose to regret it.  I believe I'm best described as
+an aristocratic 'stiff', a 'stiff' being a person who spends his life
+trying to avoid having to do things.
+"I fill a niche all the same," he finished, "because I make such an
+excellent foil for the other chaps, who like to pride themselves on
+their superiority and hard work.  It's nice for them to be able to say
+contemptuously, 'Look at Denton,' and it's nice for me to be able to
+feel I'm of some use, without the bother of making an effort."
+
+"You are certainly quite incorrigible as an idler, if that can be
+called a purpose, and, Flip, don't change; I love you for it; you are
+one of the most restful things I have ever known."
+
+He glanced into her face with a keenness that somewhat belied his
+professed incapacity to be in earnest, and remarked with seeming
+lightness:
+
+"Feeling a bit down on your luck, eh?  Are you thinking of falling in
+love foolishly?"
+
+"I'm thinking of trying to guard against doing so."
+
+"You ought not to find it difficult.  Crowd him out with other
+admirers."
+
+"It seems as if he were going to do the crowding out."
+
+"Why, is he so big?" jocularly.
+
+"There's six foot five-and-a-half of him."
+
+"Whew!  And thin as a lathe, I suppose; a sort of animated telegraph
+pole."
+
+"No; broad in proportion, cut to measure absolutely."
+
+"Then he is a fine fellow," with conviction.
+
+Lorraine felt a swift glow of pride, and then inwardly admonished
+herself for being silly.  What, after all, was size?  As Hal had
+trenchantly remarked, plenty of London policemen were just as big and
+fine.  Half in self-defence she added:
+
+"He has brains as well, and he is as handsome as Apollo."
+
+"Then run," was the laconic response; "don't stop to buy a ticket; pay
+the other end."
+
+She smiled, but grew suddenly serious.  Leaning forward with eyes
+straining hard to the horizon, she said: "Flip, I've had a hard life,
+in spite of the success.  Shall I run?... or... shall I stay, and
+snatch joy, while there is still time?"
+
+He looked at her with a growing interest.
+
+"If I were you I should run," he said; "but, all the same, I think
+you'll stay."
+
+"No; I don't think I shall.  There are other reasons.  He is a good
+deal younger than I - and - well, I've a fair amount on my soul
+already."
+
+The tired shadow was coming back to her eyes, but she laughed suddenly
+with an attempt at gaiety.
+
+"You ought to have heard Hal Pritchard on the subject.  She remarked
+there were plenty of London policemen just as big, and suggested if I
+wanted a fine young animal to play with, I should be safer with a polar
+bear from the Zoo."
+
+"Well done, Hal.  We ought to have brought her.  Where is she to-day?"
+
+"Careering across England in a haphazard fashion with her cousin Dick
+Bruce.  Do you mind turning towards home now?  I'm dinning out, and
+have some letters to write."
+
+"Who's the happy man to-night? ... I thought of course I was to have
+the whole day."
+
+"With a view to getting wholesomely bored!  No, Flip, I don't propose
+to let you find that way out just yet."
+
+"I should have found it for myself long ago if it were possible.  As it
+is, I have grown resigned, and accept what crumbs fall to my portion."
+He paused a moment and then asked, "Is it Goliath to-night?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"Rash woman; and just when I have advised you to run."
+
+"But it is not in the least serious yet.  I only asked you in view of
+it becoming so."
+
+"Which means you will try and start to run, _after_ you are firmly in
+the trap."
+
+"Not at all.  I won't go near the trap.  I'll tell him I'm old enough
+to be his mother, and talk down to him from years of detestable common
+sense and sagacity."
+
+"Which sounds as if it would be even duller than dining with me."
+
+"Oh no.  It holds novelty anyway.  You are never dull, but likewise you
+are no longer novel."
+
+They made for the high roads again, and spun along mostly in silence
+until the car once more came to a standstill at Lorraine's door.
+
+"Come in," she said, "I've lots of time."
+
+"No,' with a little smile.  "I've had my crumbs for the day. I'm going
+to have a good solid crust now to keep the balance.  Do you know Lottie
+Bird?... Fourteen stone, if she's an ounce, and a tongue like a
+sixty-horse-power motor.  There are times when she's so damned
+practical and overpowering she does me good.  This is one of them.
+Good-bye.  Don't kill the giant with a glance; and don't be silly
+enough to get hurt yourself."
+
+"All right.  I'll go in full armour," and she nodded gaily enough as he
+moved off down the street.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+What Lorraine exactly meant by full armour she did not quite know, but
+it might very well have been taken to mean the shining armour of her
+own best loveliness.  Certainly after no small consideration she chose
+what she believed to be her most becoming gown, and she was unusually
+critical about the dressing of her hair.
+
+All the same, at 7.45 she was ready, and her cavalier had not yet
+arrived.  She waited five minutes until he came, and then it was
+necessary to wait another five minutes that he might not know she had
+been more up to time than he.  Then she entered the drawing-room in a
+little bit of a hurry, and cut short his simple, direct apologies by
+regretting her own tardiness, and saying she had been out motoring
+until late.
+
+But she had time to note quickly that he also had dressed himself with
+special care, plastering down resolutely the unruly determination of
+his fair hair to curl.  That was good.  Any suggestion of a curl must
+have produced an effect of effeminacy, whereas that neat, plastered
+wave showed the shapeliness of his head, and gave him a touch of manly
+decision.  Her electric brougham was at the door, but she kept it
+waiting a few minutes, that they might be later than the majority of
+diners, and pass up a well-filled room.
+
+In the end their arrival was equal to her best expectations.  She led
+the way slowly, with a queenly grace that was one of her best
+attributes; but as she nodded casually to an acquaintance here and
+there, she had plenty of time to observe the curious eyes from all
+around, looking with undisguised admiration, not so much at her
+faultless appearance, which was more or less known, but at her striking
+cavalier.
+
+She had engaged a small table at one of the top corners and arranged
+the seats sideways, so that both could look over the room if they
+wanted to, and at the same time be easily seen by others.  She did this
+because it amused her to see people gazing at him, and to watch his
+quiet self-possession.  She almost wondered if he even realised how
+much attention he attracted, but perceived that he could hardly help
+doing so, though he took it all with so simple and unabashed an air.
+
+She watched also to see if, as most of the strikingly handsome men she
+had known, he courted tell-tale glances from other eyes, and sipped
+honey from any flower within reach, as well as from his own particular
+flower.  And when she found that his absolute and undivided attention
+was given to her, and that all the power of entertaining he could
+muster was called into her service, she felt a glow of gratitude to him
+that he had not disappointed her, but proved himself the simple,
+high-bred gentleman she longed to find him.
+
+It made her show herself to him at her very best.  Not showily witty,
+nor callously gay, nor fashionably original, but just her own self of
+light humour and dainty speech and kindly sympathy, the true, best self
+that held Hal's unswerving devotion through good account and ill.
+
+Unconsciously she left the time-worn paths of beauty and success, and
+became young, and fresh, and whole-hearted as he; tackling abstruse
+problems with a childlike, vigorous air; holding him spell-bound with
+her own charm of conversation one moment, and leading him on to talk
+with ease and frankness the next.
+
+The other diners got up and retired to the lounge, and still they sat
+on; no hint of boredom, no note of disparity, no need of other
+companionship.  As they were preparing to rise, she told him lightly
+that he talked amazingly well for his tender years.
+
+"Only twenty-four," he answered; "it does seem a kiddish age, doesn't
+it!"
+
+"Dreadfully kiddish.  It makes me feel old enough to be your
+grandmother."
+
+He glanced up, half-questioning, half-deprecating.
+
+"That would be the oddest thing of all, unless I really appear to be
+about twenty years before my time."
+
+For a reason she could not have fathomed, she looked into his eyes with
+a sudden seriousness and said:
+
+"I was thirty-two last week."
+
+She saw a quick look of surprise he did not attempt to hide, followed
+by a very charming smile, as he asserted:
+
+"It is impossible.  You could not sit there and look like that if you
+were thirty-two."
+
+"The impossible is so often the true.  I'm glad you don't think I seem
+old.  It is nice to believe one can keep young at heart, in spite of
+the years.  Shall we go to the lounge?"
+
+Again they moved through the admiring crowd, but this time Lorraine
+felt less idle interest and more inward wonder; and without any
+misgiving she steered to a quiet alcove, where they could talk without
+again being the cynosure of many eyes.
+
+Here, in a pleasant, friendly way, she led him once again to talk of
+the future, and was glad to find, in answering sincerity with
+sincerity, he was ready to admit that he was a little sorry about his
+own lack of ambition and want of application.  He did not pretend now
+that it was of no moment.  He told her he would like to achieve, only
+somehow he always found his attention wander to other things, and his
+desire grow slack after a week of rigid application.
+
+She recognised that the motive-power was missing, and that unless
+something deeper than mere desire of achievement stirred him, he would
+probably never attain.  He needed a goal that should make everything
+else in the world pale before it, and something that seemed almost as
+life and death to hang on his success.  But how get it for him?  If he
+loved, and was bidden wait until he had prospered, the end was all too
+sure and the love too easy.
+
+It was something different that was needed; something that would bring
+him up with dead abruptness against a blank wall, and leave him with a
+taste of life that was dust and ashes unless he found a way through.
+Either that or some sweet, wild, unattainable desire, that might drive
+him to work and ambition by way of escape.
+
+And there again, where should he encounter such a desire?  One had only
+to look into his calm, fine face to feel that the unattainable in the
+form of love, barred by marriage vows as lightly made as broken, would
+never stir the depths of his heart, nor appeal to his real self in any
+way whatever.
+
+He would not love such a woman, however for a time she might fascinate
+him; and afterwards there would only be the nausea and the memory that
+was like an unpleasant taste.  Such a woman might teach him many things
+it is no harm for a man to know; but she would never call to the best
+in him, nor help him to realise himself.
+
+"Have you seen your friend the duchess lately?" she asked, with a
+disarming smile, not wishing to appear merely curious.
+
+"Yes; I saw her on Friday, at a ball.  She was in great form."
+
+"You danced with her?"
+
+"Yes.  She's not a good dancer."
+
+"Then you only had one, I suppose?"
+
+"No, three."  He smiled a little.  "We sat out two."
+
+"You ought to have felt highly honoured."
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  She is very amusing.  A very funny thing happened
+last week.  Out of sheer devilry, she and a friend and two men went to
+the Covent Garden Fancy Dress Ball,  disguised of course, and just for
+an hour or two.  To their horror, after the procession, the friend was
+handed a large glass-and-silver salad bowl, as a prize for being the
+best 'twostep' dancer in the room.  Of course she had to go off with
+the beastly thing; but she was so proud of winning it, she couldn't
+resist giving their escapade away, and it got round everywhere."
+
+"I wonder if our escapade with Lady Bounce is out yet?  I haven't seen
+Hal since Thursday."
+
+"Oh yes, it is," eagerly; "the duchess had heard about it.  She was
+pumping me to know who was in the joke.  We are longing to see Quin and
+hear the latest, but he is down east."
+
+"What an oddity he is!" thoughtfully.  "I liked him so much: but it is
+difficult to reconcile him with slumming."
+
+"He's one of the best.  Every one loves him.  And he does his slumming
+in quite a way of his own.  I've been with him sometimes, and he just
+goes among the rough characters down there as if he hated being a swell
+and wanted to be one of them.  He positively asks them for sympathy,
+and of course it takes their fancy and he is friends with them all."
+
+"I think you are a remarkable trio altogether.  Hal's cousin Dick is
+just as original in his way as St. Quintin.  And you, of course, are
+somehow different to the majority.  I wonder how you will each end?
+St. Quintin will perhaps become a bishop.  Dick Bruce will write an
+astounding, weird novel, and bound into fame.  And you? ..."
+
+He flushed a little. "I shall be left far behind by both of them,
+futilely wishing to catch up."
+
+"I hope not.  Your chance is just as good as theirs, if you choose to
+make it so,"
+
+"I fail to see that I have any chance at all."
+
+"Most chances rest chiefly with ourselves.  It's a great thing to be
+ready for them if they come.  I hope you'll be that."
+
+"I hope so too, but it would be easier if one were more sure they were
+coming," and he laughed with a lightness that jarred a little.
+
+She rose to go, as it was getting late, feeling slightly disappointed
+in some vague way; and when they parted she noticed that his handshake
+was slightly limp, as of one who would not grasp life tightly enough to
+compel it to surrender its good things to him.
+
+But in her own sanctum she rallied herself, and hardened her heart,
+asking what had it to do with her after all, and how could his success
+or non-success in any way concern her.
+
+Doubtless in the end he would share the fate of the great majority and
+attain only mediocrity; having missed that one great blinding shaft of
+pain or joy that might have stabbed him into tense, pulsing life, and
+spurred him up the heights of fame and glory.
+
+She let her evening-cloak slide to a chair, turning to glance at a
+calling card on the table, with a renewal of the old, callous, cynical
+air.  The practical force of Flip Denton's conversation was making
+itself felt.  Of course it was an absurdity for her to imagine herself
+in love with a youth of twenty-four - almost the dullest of all ages -
+be he never so good to look at.  She might very well keep a motherly
+eye on him, and show him a side of life he might perhaps not see
+otherwise, but it must end there.
+
+No doubt a certain novelty had made the evening unusually pleasant:
+after two or three more they would certainly pall, and then she would
+go back to her old chums; the men of the world who had paid their
+footing and won their experience, and come through, careless enough
+devils at best in their own phraseology, but non the worse for a fall
+or two, and a win or two, and a self-taught hardihood for most things
+life was likely any more to send.
+
+She smiled a little as she remembered how calmly he had thanked her and
+said good-night.  Of a surety he took his fruits quietly and
+unconcernedly enough.  She wondered if he were secretly in love with
+some pink-and-white d�butante, who flushed and smiled when he spoke, and
+gazed up at him with fond, adoring eyes.  It was likely enough.
+
+No doubt he would tell her all about it soon, as a very young man tells
+a favourite sister, or a jolly, not too elderly aunt.  She rather hoped
+he would.  It would be an anti-climax humorous enough to cure her all
+in a moment of seeming anything to him other than that jolly, not too
+elderly aunt.  Then she would invite Flip to dinner, and they would be
+gay together - she could imagine the tone in which he would call her
+"aunty" - and her folly would fall from her like an outgrown chrysalis,
+leaving her sane, and cynical, and wordly, and whole again.
+
+The train of thought pleased her, and soothed in some way an
+indefinable rasping sense of the general futility of all feeling and
+all striving.  Surely she, with her young-old heart, her world-worn
+memories, and her youth that never was, should know that worldly-wise
+dictum full well.
+
+Of course she kew it.
+
+The things that mattered were beauty and brilliance and success; and
+these she had in good measure, brimming over.  Her mood made her cross
+suddenly to the many-sided mirror, and switch on a blaze of light that
+would brook no feigning.
+
+In its searching gleams she looked at herself with clear, fearless
+eyes.  Yes; it was all there still, untouched and unimpaired by those
+thirty-two years: the colouring, the skin, the rounded, supple figure -
+all the things for which men loved her and the world gave her fame.
+
+She gave herself a little mocking salute, and then turned away to hurry
+into her pretty, cosy bed.
+
+But what the blaze of light had not seen the mothering darkness hid
+tenderly.  Two bright tear-drops, filling tired eyes that had tried so
+often to fool themselves into blind and callous content.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+"Dick Bruce will write an astounding, weird novel, and bound into
+fame," Lorraine had remarked to her companion, and away somewhere down
+in Kent, an hour or so earlier, Dick had remarked to Hal as they spun
+along:
+
+"I've got the maddest idea for a novel you ever heard of.  I'm going to
+make the hit of next season."
+
+"I hope it's not about babies," said Hal, thinking of his doggerel.
+
+"Yes, it is - babies and vegetables."
+
+"Oh, nonsense.  You can't make a novel out of babies and vegetables."
+
+"You see if I can't.  The vegetables are all to be endowed with life,
+and of course the scene of my tale will be the vegetable kingdom."
+
+"And where do the babies come in?"
+
+"The babies will represent mankind."
+
+"I never heard such rot.  Why should mankind be represented by babies?
+Much better let them be represented by green peas or gooseberries."
+
+"Not at all.  Mankind can only properly be represented by babies;
+mankind being in its infancy."
+
+"But it isn't.  It's much older than vegetables."
+
+"It is not.  Man was made last, and instead of developing into a
+reasonable, rational object, like a potato or a cabbage, he has strayed
+away into all manner of wild side-issues, and is still nothing but a
+very much perplexed infant."
+
+"And do you propose to try and help him to emulate the reasonable,
+rational condition of the potato and cabbage?"
+
+"I propose to show him his inferiority to these delectable creations."
+
+"Then if he has any sense he will just duck you in the Serpentine and
+make you apologise.  Personally I consider myself anything but a baby,
+and far superior to any of the cabbage tribe."
+
+"Ah!..."  he cried gleefully.  You are actually proving my theory.  I
+can't explain now, but just wait till that book is written."
+
+"Are you taking rooms at Colney Hatch while you do it?"
+
+"I have thought about it.  You show more understanding in that remark
+than in any of the others."
+
+"It doesn't require much effort of understanding to think that out.  Is
+the onion or the mangel-wurzel to be your hero?"
+
+"You are unsympathetic.  I shall not tell you any more."
+
+"Not at all.  I am most interested really.  I should make the cabbage
+your hero, and the onion your hero�ne, then she can weep on his breast."
+They swerved violently, and with a little gasp she added, "All the
+same, I've no desire to weep on the highway underneath a motor-car.
+What _are_ you doing?"
+
+"I don't know.  The steering-wheel seems a bit odd."
+
+They stopped to examine the wheel, and almost immediately, out of the
+gathering darkness behind shot another car, hooting violently to them
+to get out of the way.  Unable to stop the oncoming car in time, Dick
+tried to move aside, failed, and in less than a minute the newcomer, in
+spite of brakes swiftly adjusted, crashed into them, smashing their
+lamp, and badly damaging the back near-side wheel of the car.
+
+"Well, I'm blowed!" said Dick, "that's the only moment in the whole day
+you shouldn't have been on that particular square yard of the entire
+globe.  Any other moment, I could either have moved aside or stopped
+you in time."
+
+The occupant of the other car, who was driving alone, sprang out and
+came briskly forward.
+
+"What the devil!..." he began, then noticed the lady, and stopped short.
+
+"It was certainly the devil," said Dick, ruefully examining his
+battered wheel, and "I always thought he was credited with the deceny
+to look after his own.  How have you fared?"
+
+"Well, he seems to have looked after me all right," in a cheery voice;
+"there's nothing that will prevent my going on to town.  But if you
+will pardon my curiosity, why take root in the middle of the road and
+ask for trouble?"
+
+Hal's smile suddenly flashed out in the lamp-light irresistibly.
+
+"It's a new theory about vegetables being wiser than mankind, but of
+course we took root too soon."
+
+A pair of grey eyes looked quizzically at her in the darkness,
+discerning only the gleam of a white face in a close-fitting bonnet,
+and the flash of white, even teeth.
+
+"The blasted steering wheel wouldn't act," said Dick.  "We had just
+that second slowed down to examine it.  You might have come along here
+to all eternity and not have been as inopportune.""
+"You take it very well."  The big-coated apparition, in motor-cap with
+the ear-flaps down, and motor-goggles, and the suggestion of a
+rotundity about the centre, was not at all engaging to look at, but he
+had a charming voice.
+
+"I'm taking it so ill that I daren't express myself out loud," said
+Hal.  "What in the world are we to do?  Is there a train anywhere near?"
+
+"I'm afraid not, but there is a decent enough inn close by."
+
+"An inn isn't much use to me."  She paused, then added solemnly: "I've
+got a strait-laced brother."
+
+Hal's voice was rather deep and rich for a woman, and it had a
+dangerous allurement in the darkness.  The stranger took off his
+goggles and tried again to see her face, while Dick took a minute stock
+of his damage.
+
+"Well," he suggested, a little daringly, "if he is able to chaperone
+you at the inn himself? -"
+
+"He isn't," said Hal; "he's somewhere east of Piccadilly, studying
+Phoenician Architecture, and the herringbone pattern on antique
+masonry."
+
+"Oh, damn!" intercepted Dick, "the old man has let me down badly this
+time; this car won't move before daybreak.  It means a red light
+burning all night, and we must go to the inn."
+
+"But, Dick," Hal exclaimed in quick alarm.  "How can I let Dudley know?
+ He'll have a fit at the idea of my being out all night like that."
+
+"He ought to be too thankful you are safe and sound to mind anything
+else."
+
+"But he won't; because he is always grumbling at my not getting back
+before dark.  There must surely be a train from somewhere?"
+
+Her voice had grown seriously alarmed as she began to realise what sort
+of a fix she was in.  The stranger came forward to lend his aid to the
+inspection, and after a cursory glance added his verdict to Dick's.
+
+"You won't move her before morning; and there are no trains anywhere
+near here on Sunday night.  I am going to London myself; you must let
+me give you both a lift."
+
+Dick stood up with an air of finality.
+
+"I can't leave her.  She isn't exactly all my own, you see.  I must
+stay at the inn, but if you wouldn't mind taking Miss Pritchard..." he
+looked at Hal a little anxiously.
+
+"I shall be delighted," came the brisk response from the stranger.
+
+Hal for once was nonplussed, but her habitual humour reasserted itself.
+
+"I don't know which Dudley will think the most dreadful," she remarked
+comically, "for me to stay at the inn unchaperoned, or motor back with
+a stranger.  I seem to be fairly between the devil and the deep sea."
+
+The men laughed, but Dick made the decision.
+
+"You had better go back," he said.  "He will at least have you safe
+under lock and key by midnight that way and not lie awake worrying all
+night himself."
+
+"Then let me run you to the inn first," said the stranger, and after
+fixing his red lights, Dick went off with them in search of help to
+make the car safer for the night.
+
+A little later the stranger's motor turned Londonwards with two
+occupants only, one in front and one behind.  After a few miles he
+stopped.
+
+"Won't you come and sit in front?"  It seems so unsociable to travel
+like this."
+
+"Most unsociable," said Hal, "but it would please Brother Dudley."
+
+"Never mind Brother Dudley now."  The voice was very attractive.  "Mind
+me, instead.  I'm very dull here, and I hate driving in the dark.  My
+chauffeur is down with the 'flu', and I couldn't beg, borrow, nor steal
+any one else's."
+
+"Are you a doctor?" she asked, taking her seat beside him.
+
+"Why do you think I should be a doctor?" tucking a warm rug cosily
+round her, in a leisurely fashion.
+
+"Only because I thought perhaps you were obliged to go, in spite of
+your chauffeur being ill."
+
+"I was obliged to go, but I'm not a doctor."
+
+They started forward again, but the pace was noticeably slower.
+
+"I hope you don't mind going slowly, it is so difficult to steer in te
+dark?"
+
+Hal was perfectly aware he had not found it so difficult before, but
+she only said lightly:
+
+"Anything to keep safe from another mishap.  I might have to walk home
+next time."
+
+"Or stay at an inn with me!..." with an amused laugh.  "What would
+Brother Dudley do then?"
+
+"Have brain fever first, I expect, then creeping paralysis, then
+sleeping sickness."
+
+He chuckled with enjoyment, and presently remarked: "I don't think you
+treat Dudley respectfully enough if he is an affectionate elder
+brother."
+
+"Oh, yes I do.  I sort of leaven the lump.  Without me he'd be just a
+clever prig; he couldn't help it.  With me he is only better than most
+men; and his lofty ideas don't get top-heavy, because I keep him in
+touch with commonplace humanity."
+
+"Why is he better than most men?  What is the matter with the rest of
+us?"
+
+"The rest of you don't bother to have lofty ideas at all, much less
+struggle to live up to them."
+
+You are a little sweeping.  Do you like men to have lofty ideas, and be
+priggish?"
+
+"They don't necessarily go together.  It's only Dudley who thinks all
+the rest of the world ought to be good too."
+
+"And don't you agree with him?"
+
+"I look at things from a different standpoint.  I admire him
+tremendously, and feel his superiority; but it is more natural to me to
+take things as I find them and make the best of them as they are."
+
+"You are evidently a very sensible young lady.  You can find a warm
+spot in your heart even for a sinner, for instance!"
+
+"I rather like them," and she gave a low laugh.
+
+"Of course you do, if you're a true woman."
+
+"Oh, I'm a true woman right enough.  I like a man to have a spice of
+the devil in him; and I like playing with fire; and I love getting into
+mischief."
+
+"Capital!...  you and I must be friends.  I'm beginning to think it was
+a lucky mishap for me at all events."
+
+"I haven't finished my qualifications yet.  You may change your mind.
+I like all those sort of things, but at the same time I like the big
+things as well.  Also I'm told I'm most annoyingly practical, and most
+irritatingly capable of taking care of myself, and never getting burnt,
+so to speak."
+
+"Who told you that?"
+
+"I think it was some one at the office."
+
+"What office?"
+
+She mentioned the name of one of the leading London papers.
+
+"Oh, you're a working young lady, are you?"  He asked the question with
+a new note in his voice, though it would have been difficult to tell
+just how the information struck him.
+
+Hal gave another laugh.
+
+"A working young lady!  How awful!  I shall not be friends with you if
+you call me anything so dreadful as that."
+
+"What do you call it?"
+
+"Well, I think I like 'Breadwinner' best, as that is what I do it for -
+but I don't mind working woman."
+
+The stranger looked hard into the darkness a few moments, then he asked
+suddenly, sitll with the new note in his voice:
+
+"And I suppose you want the vote?"
+
+Mentally he was wondering whether, if she knew who he was, she would
+attack him physically or insist upon writing in chalk all over his car.
+
+"I don't want it for myself, because I shouldn't know what to do with
+it, and I haven't much time to find out.  But I want fair play for
+women-workers generally, and if that is the only way to get it, I hope
+it will come quickly."
+
+"What do you mean by fair play?"
+
+"Just whatever is fair play.  I don't think women ought to be making
+iron chains at Cradley Heath for a penny a yard, for instance, and that
+sort of thing.  I think it is a slur on the men who govern the country
+that it is possible.  If you were one of them, and drove about in this
+beautiful car, not caring twopence whether starving women were sweated
+or not, I should -"  she hesitated.
+
+"Well, what should you -"
+
+Detecting the mysterious note in his voice, she added with mischievous,
+half-serious intent:
+
+"I should want to scratch you, and bite you, and push you into the
+first available ditch, for a poor coward, who was afraid to take care
+of the interests of woman, in case she got too well able in the end to
+take care of herself - so there."
+
+He could not help laughing, and when he subsided she added:
+
+"I suppose you are one."
+
+"Why do you suppose it?"
+
+"Never mind.  Are you?"
+
+"You promise you won't scratch me and bite me?"
+
+"I'll give you a sporting chance to run away."
+
+"I'm not very likely to run away from you, I think."
+
+They had reached the well-lit roads now, and he turned and looked
+keenly into her face, partly to see if by chance he might recognise
+her, and partly to get a cleaner idea of her appearance.
+
+"You look to nice to be a suffragette," he said.
+
+"Such rot!  Do I look too nice to care whether working women and
+outcast women are fairly treated or not?"
+
+"That's only the bluff of the movement.  What they really want is power
+and notoriety."
+
+Hal tossed her head.
+
+"You're a positive worm," she told him frankly.
+
+Again his engaging laugh rang out.
+
+"That's a nice thing to say to a man who has brought you all the way
+from Millington to London, and helped you out of a tight corner."
+
+The white teeth gleamed suddenly.
+
+"I'll qualify it if you like, and call you a cross between a worm and a
+brick."
+
+"Not good enough.  I won't pass the worm at all.  If you don't retract
+it wholly I shall put you down at the first tram, and let you get back
+to Bloomsbury on your own."
+
+"I'll retract, if you'll tell me who you are."
+
+"I'll tell you afterwards."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Perhaps you are going to Downing Street even now, to plan a crushing
+blow to the Cause."
+
+"I am going to Downing Street, but it has nothing to do with the Cause,
+as you call it."
+
+It was her turn to glance round, but she only saw that he was
+clean-shaven, and somewhat lined.  His grey, quizzical eyes met hers
+full of humour.
+
+"I wonder who we both are?" he said.
+
+"I can easily tell you who I am, as I'm so comfortably of no account.
+My name is Harriet Pritchard, and my friends call me Hal.  I live with
+Brother Dudley, who is an architect; and if the world isn't any the
+better for me, I hope it is sometimes a little gayer, that's all."
+
+"And are you engaged to the young man whose steering gear went wrong?"
+
+"No; I am not engaged to any one at all."
+
+"Very nearly perhaps?"
+
+"No; not even within sight of it.  Being engaged, and always having to
+go out with the same pal, would bore me to tears."
+
+"I see."  There was a note of satisfaction in his voice.  In the
+brighter lights he had observed that the warm ulster clung to a very
+shapely figure, and covered a pair of fine shoulders, and even if she
+was not pretty, for he could not be quite sure on the point, she was
+certainly very attractive, and had a delightfully engaging smile.
+
+"I wonder if there is room for another in the ranks."
+
+Something a little condescending in the way he made the suggestion
+nettled Hal.
+
+"Aren't you a rather old?" she asked.
+
+Again his ready laugh rang out.
+
+"I'll give frankness for frankness.  I am forty-eight."
+
+"Goodness!... and I am twenty-five."
+
+"Is that all?  Then allow me to say you are a remarkably clever young
+woman."
+
+"A good many breadwinners are; they have to be.  Some of them are too
+clever even for Cabinet Ministers," and she chuckled joyfully.
+
+In the darkness, she did not see the quick gleam in his eyes, as he
+retorted:
+
+"I don't think many Cabinet Ministers have the luck to meet a
+breadwinner who is as attractive as she is clever."
+
+"And if the did," sarcastically, "I suppose they would drop the
+notoriety yarn and find time to consider whether the working woman is
+treated fairly or not.  The weakness in her defence at present seems
+solely that not enough pretty women make up her defenders.  Bah!  You
+all ought to have kittens to play with, and nanny goats and woolly
+lambs."
+
+"I don't know why you include me.  What have I done?"
+
+"Well, if you're going to Downing Street?"
+
+"Why shouldn't I be going to a dinner-party?"
+
+She turned and glanced up with a daredevil light in her eyes that
+delighted him.
+
+"I not only think you a member of Parliament, but, judging by your
+fatuous air of superiority, I should imagine you are positively a
+full-blown Cabinet Minister."
+
+He busied himself with his steering wheel, while little chuckles of
+enjoyment came out of his muffler.
+
+"And supposing I were?" he said at last.
+
+"Goodness!...  I hope you're not?... " in quick alarm.
+
+"Why do you hope so?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know, except that I've never known a Cabinet Minister in
+my life, and I never expected, if I met one, to treat him like... like
+-"
+
+"An old and fatuous lump of superiority!" with a gay laugh.  "Well,
+little woman, you needn't be in the least sorry.  I don't know that
+I've ever enjoyed a motor ride more.  When will you come again?"
+
+"_Are_ you a Cabinet Minister?..." she asked helplessly.
+
+"Well, I hope you won't disapprove, for I have to plead guilty to being
+Sir Edwin Crathie."
+
+"Sir Edwin Crathie?" in abashed tones.
+
+"They called me Squib at school."  He said it in a whimsical, humorous
+voice, looking down at her with very friendly eyes.
+
+But Hal had grown silent.
+
+"I'm afraid by your manner you do disapprove?"
+
+"It is certainly embarrassing.  I would rather you had been... well,
+just any one."
+
+"You'll get used to it," still with the twinkle in his eyes.  "In the
+meantime you haven't answered my question.  When will you come for
+another ride?"
+
+She did not reply, and he leaned a little closer.
+
+"You will come again?"
+
+"I'm afraid Brother Dudley wouldn't like it"; and then they both
+laughed.
+
+"Will you come in?" as they drew up before her door.
+
+"I'm afraid I haven't time; and besides, I'm a little afraid of Brother
+Dudley.  I only feel equal to the Prime Minister this evening."
+
+She held out her hand.
+
+"Well, thank you ever so much.  You saved me from a dreadfully tight
+corner."
+
+"The thanks should be all mine; you saved me from unmitigated boredom.
+I curses my chauffeur for going down with 'flu' to-day, but now I fee
+ready to raise his salary for it."
+
+He had pulled of his thick motoring-glove, and was holding her hand in
+a firm, lingering clasp, which she quickly cut short, tucking both her
+hands into her ulster pockets, and standing up very straight and slim
+in the lamplight.
+
+"I'll have to go though the confessional now," she told him, "and sit
+on the stool of repentance for supper."
+
+"No; don't repent; come again."  He moved nearer.
+
+"I'm naturally a very busy man, and I can't make engagements offhand,
+but I can easily get at you on the telephone.  Will you come some
+afternoon, about half-past four?"
+
+"I think you are very rash.  How do you know I shall not bring the
+colours, and wave them wildly down the street, shouting 'Votes for
+Women'?"
+
+"I'll risk it.  Will you come?"
+
+She moved away, latch-key in hand.
+
+"I don't know.  I won't promise, anyway.  Good-bye, and my best thanks."
+
+There was a rush of light through an open door, a last bright smile,
+and he found himself alone in the street.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+When Hal entered the sitting-room and met Dudley's eyes she felt, as
+she afterwards described it to Lorraine, that she was in for it.  Yet
+it was not so very late, barely half-past nine.  On the table her
+supper was still waiting for her.
+
+"We've had a slight accident," she said, taking the bully by the horns;
+"something went wrong with the steering gear, and it delayed us.  Have
+you had supper?" noticing the table was still laid for two.
+
+"I always have supper at eight on Sundays, because Mrs. White has to
+clear it away herself, as you know.  Isn't Dick coming in?"
+
+"No.  He's -" Hall stopped short, considering the advantages of
+prevarication.
+
+"I wanted to see him," testily.  "He said he would give me a particular
+address to-night.  Why is he in such a hurry?"
+
+"It wasn't Dick who brought me."
+
+She took off her motor-bonnet and threw it on the sofa, running her
+hands through her bright hair, and rubbing her cheeks, which were a
+little cold.
+
+"Not Dick?..."  Dudley looked up from his book peremptorily.  "Who did
+bring you?"
+
+Hal took her seat at the table.
+
+"Well, you see, we had a slight accident.  We had just stopped to
+examine the steering gear, when another car came round a curve and
+crashed into us.  Dick's car was damaged, and..." she reached across
+for the salad, and helped herself with as unconcerned an air as she
+could muster...  "Oh!... onions!... how scrumptious!...  Mrs. White
+always remembers my plebeian tastes, but not my patrician ones."
+
+"Well!" he suggested coldly.  "Dick's car was damaged, and -"
+
+"Dick had to stay and nurse it."
+
+"Then dit you come home by train?"
+
+"There was no train.  There was nothing else."
+
+"Nothing else than what?"
+
+"Nothing but the car that run into us, or going to an inn for the night
+with Dick.  I was afraid you wouldn't like that," with a mischievous
+gleam.
+
+"My likes and dislikes are not, apparently, of the smallest moment to
+you, or you would not have been motoring late on Sunday at all."
+
+"Dick can't go other days."
+
+"Who was in this other car?"
+
+"A man."
+
+Again he glanced up quickly.
+
+"Any one else?"
+
+"No.  His chauffeur is down with 'flu'."
+
+"Was it some one you knew, then?"
+
+"No.  He told me on the way in."
+
+"Am I to gather that you returned to London alone, in a motor-car, with
+a perfect stranger?"
+
+"I'm afraid you are."
+
+"Why didn't Dick come with you?  Surely if he takes you out for the day
+he might at least see you safely home.  I never heard of such
+proceedings in my life.  The man might have been a positive blackguard.
+ Had you any idea who he was?"
+
+"No, none; but what's the use of making a fuss!  It's all right now,
+and I'm safely at home; which is surely better than being in some weird
+village all night, and you wondering what on earth had become of me."
+
+"That is not the question.  It's the whole circumstance from beginning
+to end.  I consider Dick's behaviour most reprehensible."
+
+"He couldn't leave his car alone there in the middle of a Kentish high
+road.  He had to stay somewhere near."
+
+"I think he should have considered you of more importance than the car.
+ To let you return alone, at that hour, with a perfect stranger, is the
+most unheard of proceeding.  I shall certainly tell Dick what I think
+of him."
+
+"It wasn't Dick's fault," loyally.  "I just took the matter into my own
+hands and came.  Dick had nothing to do with it.  In fact, I insisted
+upon his remaining behind."
+
+"Oh, of course you would.  You only seem to be happy when you are
+flying in the face of some convention or other.  But Dick is older than
+you, and he knows my views on these matters.  He owed it to me to see
+you safely home."
+
+"But since I am safely home!..." obstinately.
+
+"You very well might not have been.  What the stranger himself must
+think of you I don't know.  Have you any idea who he was?"
+
+"Yes.  Sir Edwin Crathie?"
+
+"Sir Edwin Crathie!  Do you mean the Cabinet Minister?"
+
+"So he said."
+
+"And did you tell him who you were?"
+
+Again there was a gleam under the lowered lashes.
+
+"I did; but I can't say he either recognised our historie name or
+seemed much impressed.  I really don't believe he had ever heard of me."
+
+Dudley refused to smile.  Instead the frown deepened on his face.
+
+"That is probably just as well.  Your actions of late cannot be said to
+be entirely to your credit.  What is this tale about Thursday night?  I
+met St. Quintin's father with Uncle Bruce this morning in the Park.
+You told me Quin's aunt was going to chaperone you.  Did she or did she
+not?"
+
+"I told you Lady Bounce was going to chaperone me.  Lady Bounce _did_
+chaperone me."
+
+"Is Lady Bounce Quin's aunt?"
+
+"That depends."  Hal pushed away her chair, wishing vaguely that
+fathers and uncles would mind their own business.  Either incident
+alone she could have coped with, but it was a distinct imposition to
+expect her to manage both at once, and on Sunday night into the bargain.
+
+"I can only presume you lent yourself to such a vulgar proceeding as
+Quin dressing up as a woman and acting chaperone.  Is that the truth?"
+
+"Not entirely.  You see, he wasn't an ordinary woman.  He went as his
+aunt, Lady Phyllis Fenton.  His personification was a masterpiece."
+
+Dudley began to pace the room.  His thin lips were compressed into a
+straight line, and his whole air distincly worried.
+
+"What you seem quite unable to perceive is the way in which these
+incidents reflect upon your good taste and upon my guardianship."
+
+Hal grew suddenly nettled.
+
+"It is nonsense to talk of guardianship now.  I am twenty-five, and I
+earn my own living.  I am perfectly well able to take care of myself."
+
+"No; that is just what you are not.  You are so rash and inconsequent."
+
+"Well, anyhow I get a good deal out of my life, while you -"
+
+He remembered his own Thursday evening and intercepted:
+
+"It is possible to get a great deal out of life without outraging every
+convention.  Do you imagine either Ethel or Doris Hayward would do the
+wild things you do?"
+
+"Ethel Hayward is a brick.  She couldn't be straitlaced anyhow, nor
+narrow-minded.  Doris would do anything under the sun that suited her
+own ends."
+
+She got up, and turned away without perceiving his frown, beginning to
+gather up her paraphernalia.  He stopped short in his walk.
+
+"If it really was Sir Edwin Crathie who brought you home, I must write
+and thank him, I think."
+
+"I shouldn't bother; probably it wasn't him at all; only some
+third-rate actor."
+
+Dudley tried to see her face, not sure if she was serious or not, but
+she kept her head averted as she added:
+
+"Quite possibly it was Lord Bounce."
+
+"You are always treating a serious subject with levity," he complained.
+ "What am I to think?  Do you or do you not believe your escort was Sir
+Edwin Crathie?"
+
+"Well, as he was awfully afraid I might be a militant suffragette, I
+think he really was a Cabinet Minister."
+
+"I hope you entirely undeceived him on that score," drily.
+
+"Not at all.  I told him I was tingling to scratch him and bite him,"
+and the ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
+
+Dudley relapsed into silent displeasure, and for a few moments neither
+spoke.  Then Hal, with her garments on her arm, came round to him with
+a frank, affectionate air.
+
+"Dudley, don't make mountains out of molehills over nothing.  I know I
+am a little wild.  I can't help it - we seem to have got mixed up
+somehow.  You've got all the decorum and nice, refined feelings of a
+charming woman, and I've got the enterprise and 'don't-care' spirit of
+a man.  It isn't any use fighting against facts.  You must take me as I
+am, and make the best of it.  I can't change now; and I don't know that
+I would if I could."
+
+"I don't suppose you would.  You positively glory in the very traits
+that I deplore"; but his voice sounded mollified.
+
+"Oh well, old man, you wouldn't like me to be helpless, and foolish,
+and woolly-lambified, would you?  It wouldn't be half so interesting.
+Just fancy if you had a sister like Doris Hayward, can you imagine
+anything tamer?"
+
+He stiffened again, but she did not notice it.
+
+"As for Thursday night, you never ought to have heard about it, and you
+never would have done if Uncle Bruce had not been such an old telltale.
+ Just wait till I get him alone; that's all.  Anyhow, he didn't think
+it a heinous crime did he ?  I expect he gave a great laugh that
+startled every one within hearing."
+
+As that was exactly what had happened, Dudley made no comment.
+
+"And Sir Edwin Crathie would only have thought me a fool if I had been
+afraid to come back with him.  These things will happen occasionally.
+They are not worth worrying about.  You are too anxious over trifles,
+Dudley."  She moved away towards the door.  "Well, good-night, don't
+forget to return thanks that anyhow I am not in a hospital, generally
+smashed up."
+
+She left him, and retired to bed, feeling a little depressed.  Of
+course he had not forgiven her, nor would he see things from her point
+of view.  She almost wished he did not mind; but all her life she had
+had an affection that was almost adoration for her one brother, and it
+always depressed her to displease him, however indifferent she might
+seem.
+
+She awoke next morning with the sense of depression still lingering,
+and set off for the City in far from her usual spirits.  The office
+seemed dingy and dull, and the routine wearisome.  It felt like ages
+and ages since she had driven home through the darkness in Sir Edwin's
+beautiful car.  She wondered if it was real at all; only what else
+should make all the old friends at the office appear so uninteresting
+and commonplace.
+
+She speculated a little forlornly as to whether she would ever be
+likely to see him again, and decided it was most unlikely, and that
+probably he had already forgotten the whole incident.
+
+And just when she had reached that point in her meditations, the
+telephone boy came to tell her some one was asking for her.  She asked
+him dispiritedly who it was, and he replied that the gentleman had
+declined to give a name.
+
+Hal shut herself into the case, took down the receiver, and, still
+dispiritedly, asked: "Hullo!  Are you there?"
+
+"Is that Miss Pritchard?" asked a voice that made her pulses hasten.
+
+"Yes?  Who is that?"
+
+"The mere worm," came back the cheery answer.
+
+"What's the matter?  You sound somewhat funereal.  Was Brother Dudley
+very angry?"
+
+"Terrible.  I am still recovering.  He seemed to have grave doubts as
+to whether you really were the eminent person you professed to be!"
+
+"Oh, he did, did he?  And what did you say?"
+
+"That it was quite possible you were only a third-rate actor all the
+time."
+
+"Thanks.  I shall not grow vain on your compliments.  Have you any
+grave doubts yourself?"
+
+"I don't mind either way."
+
+"Thanks again.  Well, I am speaking to you from my own private sanctum
+at the House of Commons; and if you want to make sure, you can take my
+number, and ring up the Exchange and inquire."
+
+"I'll take your word for it."
+
+"Good girl.  You don't sound quite so obstreperous as you were last
+night.  What's the matter?"
+
+"I'm only Mondayfied.  The office is always boring on a Monday."
+
+"I'm sorry I can't suggest a spin this afternoon, but I'm too much
+engaged until Wednesday.  Will you come on Wednesday?  Well?" as Hal,
+appeared to be meditating.
+
+"Where do you propose going?" she asked.
+
+"Anywhere you like.  I'd better not fetch you from the office though.
+I'll pick you up just casually in St. Jame's Park.  Will you be there
+at five, near the Archway?"
+
+"All right, if I can get away.  How shall I let you know if I change my
+mind?"
+
+"Don't do anything so childish.  The run will do you good after a
+stuffy office.  I'll be there to the minute.  Good-bye," and he rang
+off without waiting for a reply.
+
+Hal went back to her work, with a pleasurable sensation that instead of
+grey stuffiness there was joyful sunshine.  She had never imagined for
+a moment het would actually carry out his suggestion of a meetingt; and
+here they were with an actual appointment.
+
+It was so odd, too, that they had not properly seen each other yet;
+only having met in the light of street lamps; and she fell to wondering
+eagerly what he was like in broad daylight.  A voice whispered,
+"Perhaps you won't like him at all, and will wish you had not gone";
+but her love of adventure easily silenced it, and she looked forward to
+her outing without any misgivings.
+
+Once she thought she would go an tell Lorraine about it first, but
+later decided it would be more enjoyable to to so afterwards, and kept
+her own counsel; which perhaps was not entirely wise, seeing how much
+more cause Lorraine had to know the world than she had.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Sir Edwin Crathie had come to the front very rapidly under the auspices
+of the Liberal Government.  Without having any special worth, he was
+sufficiently brilliant and unscrupulous to brush obstacles aside
+without compunction, and assert himself in a manner that impressed his
+hearers with the notion that he was very clever, very thorough, and
+very reliable.
+
+Those who knew him superficially believed him extra-ordinarily clever.
+Those who knew him intimately sometimes shrugged their shoulders.  He
+was possessed undoubtedly of a certain flashy sort of cleverness, but
+some of his greatest skill existed in imposing it upon others as
+strenght and insight.
+
+As may be imagined, such a man was not much troubled with principles.
+If a step was likely to help him forward with his ambitions, he took it
+without considering the moral aspect.  If no help was likely to follow,
+he only took it if it happened to please his fancy.  To say that he had
+climbed by women was to put it mildly.
+
+Many of his steps he had taken on women's hearts, trampling them
+mercilessly in the process.  And since he was admittedly unscrupulous,
+it was not surprising, for he was possessed not only of an attractive
+appearance, but of great personal magnetism when he chose to exert it.
+
+He was a bachelor because so far he had considered the single state
+best forwarded his aims, but a growing and imperative need for money
+was now causing him to look round among the richest heiresses for some
+one to pay his debts in consideration of being made Lady Crathie.
+
+In the meantime Hal's independent spirit and freshness suggested an
+entertaining interlude; and as she attracted him more strongly than any
+woman had done of late, he decided to follow up their chance friendship
+just for the amusement of it.
+
+In consequence, he felt quite boyishly eager for the hours to pass on
+Wednesday, and when at last it was time to start, dismissed his
+chauffeur with a curt sentence, and started off alone.  The chauffeur,
+it may be mentioned, merely glanced after him, and with a shrug of his
+shoulders wondered "what the master was up to now."
+
+When Sir Edwin reached the meeting-place he was not particularly
+surprised to find no signs of Hal.  He believed she would come; but
+evidently she liked being perverse, and would purposely keep him
+waiting.  He ran the car slowly back again, scanning each pedestrian
+ahead with a certain anxious eagerness, wondering how he would like her
+in broad daylight.
+
+On returning to the Archway, and still finding no one waiting, he
+alighted with a pretence of examining some part of the car, and looked
+back over the paths leading down from Piccadilly.
+
+And something in his mental regions felt rather foolishly glad when he
+recognised her afar off.
+
+He had never seen her walk, but his instinct told him Hal would move
+with just the graceful, swinging stride of the tall, slim figure coming
+towards him,  and carry her head and shoulders with just such a
+dauntless, grenadier attitude.
+
+He found himself standing quite still, with his hands deep in his
+overcoat pockets, watching her.  Her costume, too, pleased his
+fastidious taste.  Of course a first-class tailor had cut a coat and
+skirt with a fit and hang like that; and the small hat, if it had
+nothing Parisian about it, anyhow suited the wearer and dress to
+perfection.
+
+He noted with quiet pleasure that she showed no signs of embarrassment
+when she met his watching gaze, merely crossing the road with the same
+jaunty, upright walk, and a gleam of fun in her eyes.
+
+"Hullo!" was her greeting.  "Hope I haven't kept you waiting.  I've had
+a busy afternoon helping my chief to give you and The Right Honourable
+Hayes Matheson a good slanging."
+
+"Oh, you have, have you?"
+
+The grey eyes were growing more and more approving, as he noted each
+detail most likely to appeal to a man who had made a study of women for
+many years.  The shapely little ears with the glossy hair curling round
+them, the full, rounded throat, the determined little chin, the frank,
+fearless eyes.
+
+He still hardly knew whether she was pretty or not, but he discerned
+wery quickly that she was amply blessed with that rare gift of
+personality and humour that is so much more durable than a pretty face.
+
+Hal, for her part, was no less interested in him, but she found little
+else than that she had already seen: humorous, quizzical grey eyes, a
+face a good deal lined, and a mouth and chin suggesting a nature fond
+of enjoyment and self-indulgence, which it had never seen any cause to
+deny itself.  She saw that he was very grey about the temples, and a
+trifle inclined to stoutness, but tall enough and broad enough to carry
+it off.
+
+A fine figure of a man, though one, she felt instinctively, belonging
+to a very different world to hers.  Because she felt his careful
+scrutiny, and because she wanted to assert her indifference to it, she
+remarked suddenly, after a moment:
+
+"Well, how do you like me by daylight?"
+
+"How do you like me?" he retorted, and laughed.
+
+She shook her head, and her eyes grew mischievous.
+
+"Old," she said; "quite old and grey."
+
+"Old be damned!  Forty-eight is the prime of life."
+
+She was taking her seat, and gave a low chuckle of enjoyment at having
+drawn him.
+
+"Ah, you may laugh now," he said, "but I'll soon show you forty-eight
+is far more attractive than twenty-eight.  Where shall we go?"
+
+"I don't mind in the least, but I should prefer to steer for tea and
+buns."
+
+"Tea and buns!... how like a woman!...  How can you expect to get the
+vote on tea and buns?"
+
+They were spinning along the Broughton Road now, heading for Putney and
+Richmond, and Hal felt her spirits rising momentarily with the joy of
+the motion and comfort and fresh air.
+
+"We don't expect to get in on tea and buns; we expect to get it on
+whisky and beer.  That is to say, we expect the course of events to
+prove that tea and buns conduce to a frame of mind better able to cope
+with the questions of the day than the whisky and beer drained in such
+quantities by men."
+
+"And when you've got it you'll all vote for the man who happens to be
+good-looking, and who can pay you the prettiest compliments."
+
+"A few will vote that way, no doubt, but not the majority.  Women are
+not so fond of pretty men as they were"; and her lips curled
+significantly.
+
+"Pretty men!..." he echoed, with enjoyment.
+
+"Little woman, you have a neat way of putting things."
+
+He was silent a few minutes, then added:
+
+"I suppose, down at that office they are all in love with you?"
+
+"I don't know.  I haven't asked them," with twinkling eyes.  "I'm a bit
+in love with the chief myself."
+
+"Oh, your are, are you?  And what aged man might he be?"
+
+"Oh, he's quite old," she laughed; "somewhere about forty-eight."
+
+"And is he in love with you?"
+
+"It just depends.  Sometimes he's rather fond of me on a Saturday; but
+on Mondays he loathes me."
+
+"I see.  And are you as changeable?"
+
+"No, I love him always; but on Mondays it's mostly from habit.  On
+Saturdays it's from choice."
+
+He looked down at her, and it was on the tip of his tongue to state
+some commonplace about being jealous.  Then suddenly he looked back to
+his steering wheel, and the commonplace sentence died unspoken.  Quite
+unaccountably he felt less inclined to flirt and more inclined to be
+really friendly, and for some distance they skimmed along in silence.
+
+They had tea at the Star and Garter, both chatting volubly on the most
+interesting topics of the day.  Hal's newspaper work had made her
+cognisant of many subjects very few girls of her age would even have
+heard of, and her original criticisms delighted him.  It was a gay
+little tea-table, and the time slipped by with extraordinary rapidity.
+Hal noticed it first.
+
+"Do you know it is half-past six?" she said, "and I'm dining out
+to-night.  We must fly."
+
+"Is it really past six?..." in astonishment.  "How the time has flown!
+You know, you are such an entertaining little woman, you make me forget
+everything but yourself."  He looked at her hard, and the force of
+habit caused him to add: "I doubt if any other woman I know to-day
+could have given me so much pleasure."
+
+"Well, you needn't thank me," with her low, fresh laugh, "because I
+came entirely to give myself pleasure."
+
+"Then I hope you have succeeded.  I see it is quite hopeless to expect
+any sort of a complimentary speech from you."
+
+"Quite; though I don't mind admitting I have been very enjoyably
+entertained as well."
+
+"That is something, anyhow.  And now I suppose you are going straight
+off home to dress, and dine with some one else, and forget about me?"
+
+"I don't suppose I shall forget you.  It happens to be a journalist
+dinner, and probably we shall tear you to pieces between us before we
+have finished."
+
+"Well, I'd rather you did that than forget me."
+
+She felt him looking hard into her face, with something a little
+sinister in his expression, and she got up and turned away.
+
+"Why do you turn away when I am interested?  Don't you think you might
+be a little pleased that I don't want you to forget me?"
+
+He asked the question with a humorous twinkle, though she felt that he
+meant it seriously as well.  This last, however, she was clever enough
+to ignore, and merely threw him a mischievous glance over her shoulder
+as she answered:
+
+"Well, I have to consider Brother Dudley's attitude, you see; and I've
+a notion he would be best pleased for both the incident and motorist of
+Sunday evening to be forgotten."
+
+He got up slowly, looking amused.
+
+"I suppose he would be horrified at this outing?"
+
+"I strongly suspect he would."
+
+"What if he hears you were out motoring at Richmond with me?"
+
+"Oh, well, I shall tell him you are old enough to be my father, and not
+to be absurd."
+
+"Why do you harp on my age so?...  If I am old enough to be your
+father, it doesn't follow that I'm too old to be your lover?"
+
+He was standing clos to her now, looking down into her face, and Hal
+felt a little conscious tremor run through her blood.  She faced him
+squarely, however, and answered in a gay, careless voice:
+
+"Of course it doesn't, only, as I don't happen to want a lover, it's a
+contingency not worth considering."
+
+"Perhaps the post is already filled?"  he suggested, refusing likewise
+to be daunted.
+
+"Quite filled.  It's a case for a placard stating 'House Full', and
+you," she finished, "would naturally be at the tail end of the queue
+which has to go away."
+
+He laughed with relish, and gave it up.
+
+"I can see you will take some taming," he said, as he handed her into
+the car.  "My weighty and important position evidently does not impress
+you in the least."
+
+"Of course not, as you're a Liberal.  They have so few really good men,
+they have to take anything they can get.  Back up the  Budget and the
+Chancellor, and exhibit a colossal amount of impudence, and there you
+are!"
+
+"Well, there isn't much to boast of in the way of men on the
+Conservative side, is there?  Chiefly a collection of cousins, and
+second-cousins, and cousins by marriage, shoved in by a few interfering
+old aunts.  You don't need me to tell an enlightened young woman like
+you that even impudence might serve the country better than
+cousin-ship."
+
+"I wonder sometimes if any of you honestly put the country first at any
+time; or whether it is just a popular name for a very big 'me'?"
+
+"You are such a little sceptic.  Do you always credit people with
+self-interested motives?"
+
+"I don't know that I do; but if you are a city-worker it is a fairly
+safe basis to work upon, until you can find proof that you are wrong."
+
+He looked down at her with amusement.
+
+"What a wise little head it is!  Do you know, I don't think I ever met
+any one quite like you before,"
+
+"What you have missed!" was the gay rejoinder, and they both laughed.
+
+"I suppose I mustn't take you home?" as they neared Piccadilly.
+"Brother Dudley might see us?"
+
+"No, thanks.  If you will drop me at Hyde Park Corner I will take a
+homely bus, and return to my Bloomsbury level."
+
+"Until my next free afternoon, I hope.  Will you come again soon?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"What do you do on Sundays?"
+
+"I generally go out with Dick Bruce."
+
+"Does Dick Bruce consider himself entitled to every Sunday?"
+
+"Well, I consider myself entitled to Dick!..." laughing.
+
+"You're evidently very fond of Dick."
+
+"Very," with enthousiasm.  "I have been for twenty-five years.  We were
+like the two babies in _Punch_ which said, 'Help yourself and pass the
+bottle.'"
+
+"Dick's a lucky devil.  Does he take Saturday afternoons as well?"
+
+"No; he plays cricket or hockey then."
+
+"Then may I have a Saturday afternoon?"
+
+"It would be jolly;" and a swift gleam in her eyes told him she meant
+it.
+
+""Very well.  I shall consider that a promise.  The first Saturday I
+can arrange, we'll run down to some little place on the coast, and get
+some sea air.  And if you feel inclined to write me a letter between
+now and then, send it to York Chambers, Jermyn Street."
+
+He pulled up, and instantly she exclaimed in haste:
+
+"Oh, there's my bus.  Good-bye, thanks awfully; I must fly"; and before
+he could get in another word, he saw her clambering on to a
+motor-omnibus, with the utmost unconcern for his sudden, astonished
+solitarness.
+
+"Gad!...  what a woman she'll be one day," was his comment.  "If she'd
+a hundred thousand pounds I wouldn't mind marrying her myself; she'd
+never let a chap get bored.  I'll warrant,"  He moved slowly down
+Piccadilly.  "Most of them do," he cogitated; "it doesn't seem as if
+there were one woman in a thousand who didn't soon become a bore.
+Heigh-ho, but debts are more boring still sometimes, and I want a
+fifty-thousand cheque badly."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+When Hal went to tell Lorraine of her adventure she found her a victim
+of the prevailing malady, kept indoors two days with influenza.  She
+was not in bed, but lying on a sofa, by a small fire, looking very
+frail and ill.  Hal did not say much, as Lorraine disliked fussing, but
+her heart smote her to think she had been absent two days while her
+friend was a prisoner.
+
+"Why didn't you tell Jean to 'phone me?" she asked.  "I would have got
+here somehow."
+
+Instead of answering, Lorraine nestled down into her cushions, and said:
+
+"It's dreadful nice to see you, chummy."
+
+Hal drew up a footstool, and sat down with her head against the sofa.
+
+"What does the court physician say, Lorry?  Of course he is generally
+fathering and brothering and mothering you as well as doctoring?"
+
+"Yes; he is taking care of me in a sort of all-round, comprehensive
+fashion.  I don't know what I should do without him."
+
+"Do! ... "with a little laugh.  "Why, just have another court physician
+instead."  Hal's eyes strayed round the room.  "What loverly flowers,
+Lorraine!  Don't they almost make you feel a corpse?"
+
+"They would if they were white, I dare say."
+
+On a little table by the sofa was a bowl of violets, looking very sweet
+and homely amoung the beautiful exotics filling all the other vases.
+Hal buried her nose in them.
+
+"How delicious!  Who ventured to send you royal highness anything so
+homely as violets?"
+
+Lorraine's eyes rested on them with a look of tenderness.  "Some one
+not very well off," she said, "who had the perspicacity to know I
+should value them from him more than the choicest blooms."
+
+"It sounds as if it might have been Dick.  Was it?"
+
+"No."
+
+Lorraine replied in a careless tone, suggesting there was no special
+interest attached to the giver, but, for some unknown reason, Hal chose
+to be inquisitive.
+
+"The Three Graces are your only 'hard-up' friends, and Quin is down
+east, so he would not know you were ill.    Surely Baby didn't think it
+at all out by himself, and actually go into a shop and buy them?"
+
+"You shouldn't call Mr. Hermon Baby, Hal; it isn't quite fair."
+
+"Oh, yes it is, as long as he is so objectless and purposeless.
+Besides, his face is to cherubic I can't help it."
+
+"I call his face very manly."
+
+"Well, so it is - in a way: but it's cherubic also; and then he's so
+dreadfully placid.  If he'd only wake up, and boil over about
+something."
+
+She was silent a few moments, and then said suddenly;
+
+"Do you know Sir Edwin Crathie, Lorraine?"
+
+"No; why?  I now of him."
+
+"What do you know of him?"
+
+"Oh, nothing much.  I believe he is a great lady's man."
+
+"I've met him," said Hal; and she proceeded to tell of the motor mishap
+and subsequent meeting.
+
+Lorraine was interested and amused, but for some strange reason Hal did
+not tell the tale with her usual gusto, and nothing in her voice or
+manner suggested it was more than the most casual of meetings.
+Lorraine, a little preoccupied with her own feelings, for a wonder did
+not discern that Hal treated the incident with a lightness not quite
+natural, considering how exceedingly unlooked-for it was, and before
+the recital was quite finished Jean looked in to inquire if Lorraine
+would see Mr. Hermon.  Lorraine replied in the affirmative, and a
+moment later Alymer Hermon entered the room.
+
+"I'm so sorry you are not well," he said, in his frank, pleasant way.
+"I only heard of it last night."
+
+"And then you sent me violets.  It was nice of you.  I appreciate them
+so much."
+
+"I guessed Dick," put in Hal, who had not risen from her stool. "I did
+not think you would have the energy to think of them."
+
+"I have been feeling rather exhausted since," he told her lightly.
+
+"Take the arm chair," said Lorraine smilingly, "and have a good rest."
+
+"Do," echoed Hal.  "I'm sure you are tired out with your day's work."
+
+"Don't be so superior," he retorted.  "Just because you can type a
+certain number of words per minute, you give yourself such airs."
+
+"Well, that's a better reason than the fact of being a few inches
+longer than most people."
+
+"Now you two," put in Lorraine, "don't start quarrelling in such a
+hurry.  Try and be nice and polite to each other for a few minutes."
+
+"Baby doesn't like me when I'm polite," said Hal.
+
+"I've never had a chance to judge."
+
+"Liar.  What about the first time we met?"
+
+"I thought you were rather nice in those days.  Your offensive attitude
+is only of comparatively recent date."
+
+"Oh, don't sit there like a stodgy old book-worm, reeling off nicely
+rounded sentences."
+
+"I hope it might impress you with the incongruity of addressing me as
+an infant."
+
+Hal looked up from her lowly seat with a mischievous, engaging
+expression.
+
+"You know you really are rather clever in a useless sort of fashion,"
+she informed him.
+
+"Thank you," making a bow.
+
+"Can't you tell him how to be clever in a useful sort of fashion, with
+all your practical experience?" suggested Lorraine.
+
+"Oh, I _could_; but what's the use? he doesn't want to know.  It would
+mean hard work."
+
+"Give him the benefit of a suggestion, anyhow."
+
+"Well, other briefless barristers peg away at journalism, and political
+agency work, and coaching, and studying.  Baby just sits down and looks
+nice, as if he thought the briefs would come fluttering round him like
+all the silly, pink-cheeked, wide-eyed girls.  You ought to have seen
+our little maid the night he dined with us.  When she first saw him she
+seemed to mutter 'O my' in a breathless fashion, and when she handed
+him his plate, she spilt all the gravy on to his knee, gazing into his
+face."
+
+Hermon looked a little annoyed.  "Very few people can talk absolute rot
+in a clever way," he aimed at her.
+
+Hal laughed.
+
+"Why, that drew you, Baby!  You look quite ruffled.  I was only pulling
+your leg: the pink-cheeked girls don't really flutter round, they run
+away in terror at your scowl.  You know he can scowl, Lorraine.  At
+least it isn't exactly a scowl; it'smore a cast-iron solemnity of such
+degree that it has a Medusa-like effect and freezes the poor little
+peach-blossom girls into putty images."
+
+"I'm sure Mr. Hermon never gives his personal appearance a thought,"
+Lorraine replied, "except when you insist upon harping on it."
+
+"I can't help it.  I feel he's hemmed in with such a sticky, treacly,
+simpering amount of youthful adoration generally, that I simply have to
+rag him for his good!"
+
+"It's very kind of you to be so interested in my welfare" - a twinkle
+gleamed suddenly in his blue eyes -  "I certainly like your way of
+adoring the best."
+
+"Ah" - with an answering twinkle - "I didn't think you had guessed my
+secret.  How embarrassing of you!  You have positively driven me away."
+ She rose to her feet.  "I must go, Lorry.  I can't sit out any more.
+He has discovered that I adore him."
+
+"You both seem rather imbecile to-night," Lorraine commented; "but
+surely it needn't drive you away, Hal."
+
+"I must go all the same.  We have visitors coming.  I shall run in
+again to-morrow.  Be sure and 'phone me if there is anything I can do
+for you."  She kissed Lorraine, and turned to Hermon.  "Good-bye.
+Don't display all your best allurements to Lorraine this evening,
+because she isn't strong enough for it.  Remember my unhappy plight,
+and let one victim satisfy you for the present."
+
+"What about your victims?" he asked.  "Dick is kicking the toes of his
+boots thin because he saw you yesterday with Sir Edwin Crathie."
+
+Hal coloured up, much to her own disgust, and greatly to Hermon's
+enjoyment, who immediately followed up his advantage with:
+
+"I suppose we shall all have to cry small now, because of the right
+honourable gentleman."
+
+"It will be a puzzler for you to cry small," was her rather feeble
+retort, as she passed out.
+
+Hermon came back and reseated himself in the big arm chair.
+
+"May I stay?" he asked, and Lorraine answered:
+
+"Yes, do," in the frank spirit she had told herself must be her
+attitude towards him.
+
+So he sat on with an air of content, seeming to fill some place in the
+pretty room by right of an old comradeship, or some blood-tie, or a
+mutual understanding - an intangible, indefinable attitude that had
+sprung into being between them of itself.
+
+Lorraine did not talk much, because she was tired, but she let the
+goodly sight of him, and the quiet rest of him, lull and soothe her
+senses for the passing moment without any disturbing questioning.
+Hermon likewise did not question.  He liked being there, and she seemed
+willing for him to stay, and it seemed enough.
+
+Once or twice lately he was conscious that he had been rather foolish
+with different admiring friends of the fair sex; and though he was no
+prig, and knew most men took kisses and caressess when offered, and
+would have thought it a needless throwing away of good things to
+refuse, he yet felt a little irritated with himself and the givers
+without quite knowing why.
+
+And there was another trying incident over a girl he had met at various
+country-houses the previous summer, and greatly enjoyed a flirtation
+with.  Unfortunately, she appeared not to have understood it in the
+light of a flirtation; and now she was writing him miserable,
+reproachful love-letters which had at any rate succeeded in making him
+wish he had been more circumspect.  It soothed his ruffled feelings to
+be with Lorraine; and it flattered his vanity to feel that she liked
+him there.
+
+They had been sitting quietly some little time when the front-door bell
+announced another caller, and Jean came to inquire if her mistress
+would see Lord Denton.  Lorraine half unconsciously glanced at Hermon,
+and seeing an expression of disappointment on his face, said quietly.
+"Ask him to come to-morrow, Jean.  I am very tired to-night."
+
+Jean went away, and presently returned with a loverly bouquet of
+malmaisons, and three or four new books.  "His lordship will call about
+twelve," she said: "and he hopes, if you feel able to go out, you will
+let him take you in his motor."  Then she went out, leaving them alone
+again.
+
+In the pause that followed, Lorraine lay silently watching him for some
+minutes, wondering what was passing  in his mind.  Although it was only
+September still, the evenings were drawing in quickly, and there was
+little light in the room except the flickering glow of cheerful flames
+on the hearth.  They caught the glint of his hair and shone on his
+face, throwing the delicate, aristocratic features with cameo-like
+dinstinctness on the black shadow beyond.
+
+Lorraine looked again, with the eyes of a connoisseur, and she knew
+that in very truth no merely handsome face and form were here, but a
+nature and character corresponding to the outward beauty of line and
+lineament.  She wondered once more as she lay there what it must be to
+have borne such a son; and a surging, aching, tearing pain filled her
+heart for the longing to have known from experience.  She felt she
+could have been a saint among women for very joy, and an ideal
+companion, as well as a mother to such as he.
+
+And instead? -
+
+Well, there were murky corners in the background for her as well as her
+mother, but never from actual seeking.  When necessity had not driven
+her, loneliness had, and the gnawing ache of a fine, fearless soul to
+grasp some satisfaction from the sorry scheme of things.  And always
+the satisfaction had passed so quickly... so quickly, driving the
+starved soul back on itself again, with a little extra weight added to
+its burden of bitter knowledge.
+
+Was there then no counterpart for her - no twin soul - no strong, true
+comrade, to say "You and I" when sorrow and disillusion came, and so
+rob pain of its deepest sting?
+
+Then, as if he felt her scrutiny, he turned his face to her slowly, and
+looked into her eyes.
+
+"You know you are looking rather bad," he said a little awkwardly and
+shyly.  "I'm awfully sorry.  I hope you are taking care of yourself."
+
+"I don't suppose I should worry much if left to myself," she told him,
+with a touch of lightness; "but a very stern physician, and a most
+resolute maid, insist upon giving me every possible attention."
+
+"It doesn't tire you... my being here?..."
+
+"No; I like it."
+
+"I wonder why?"
+
+"Do you always want to know the why of things?"
+
+"I'm afraid I don't as a rule bother much, but this is a little
+amazing, isn't it?"
+
+"I don't see why you should think so."
+
+He studied the fire again.
+
+"Only that you are at the top of the ladder, and I am at the bottom."
+
+"I was once there too."
+
+"And did it seem  as if it would be impossible ever to reach the top?"
+
+"Yes, often.  I don't think anything but resolute, iron determination
+ever takes any one up.  Influence helps a good many up the lower rungs,
+and saves them a lot of the drudgery, but it cannot do much else, and
+unless one is full of grit and purpose at heart, one sticks there."
+
+"Still, it must be a great help to be pulled through the drudgery."
+
+"It may mean a good deal of loss also."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I don't suppose success that is won through favour means half so much
+to the winner as success that is wrenched from Fate by one's own
+resolute hands.  The only thing is, one wonders so often afterwards if
+it has been worth while.""
+"Do you wonder that?"
+
+"Ah!... don't I?"
+
+He said nothing, and she went on:
+
+"All the same, I imagine I had to succeed or die.  I was built that
+way.  Nothing less than success would have satisfied me.  I often crave
+for quiet, restful happiness now, but if it had been offered then I
+should have passed it by and struggled blindly for fame.  Still, it is
+hard to think how easily one can take a false step, and suffer for it
+till the end."
+
+"Did you do that?"
+
+He turned his eyes to her again, and she saw as sympathy in them that
+was deeper than any feeling he had shown her yet.
+
+"Yes.  I was in a very tight corner, and I took a short cut out.  I
+married for money and influence.  The step brought me all I
+anticipated, but it brought other things as well, that I had chosen not
+to remember: nausea, ennui, self-disgust, loneliness, emptiness.  I
+think I should never have won through without Hal."
+
+"And is your husband living?"
+
+"Yes.  In America.  We have not troubled each other for a long time.  I
+suppose I am fortunate in being left alone."  She was silent a few
+minutes, and then she told him kindly: "Hal says they always chaff you
+about marrying an heiress, for the sake of being rich without any need
+to work; but take my advice, and don't force the hand of Fate before
+she has had time to give you good things in her own time."
+
+He turned to her with a very engaging smile as he answered:
+
+"They chaff me about a good many things, but most of them are a little
+wide of the mark.  I haven't any leaning at present towards a paid post
+as husband."
+
+"I'm glad; but I didn't for a moment suppose you had seriously.  I
+wonder what you have a leaning towards?" she added.
+
+"I should like to succeed."  He sat forward suddenly and leaned his
+chin on his hands, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared hard at
+the flames.  "I care a great deal more about succeeding really than any
+one believes; but I'm afraid I'm not cut out for it."
+
+"I should like to help you," she said simply.
+
+"You are very good," he answered, still looking hard into the fire.
+
+Lorraine got up and moved slowly about the room, touching a flower
+here, and a flower there, and rearranging them with deft fingers.  She
+turned on an electric light with a soft shade, and glanced at the books
+Flip Denton had brought her.
+
+Hermon sat back in his chair and watched her.  He thought he had never
+seen her lovelier than she looked in the homely simplicity of a
+graceful tea-gown, and her thick black hair coiled in a large loose
+knot low  on her neck.  It gave her an absurdly youthful air, that
+somehow seemed far removed from the brilliant star as he knew her on
+the stage.
+
+Then she came towards him, and stood beside him, resting one foot on
+the fender and one hand on the mantelpiece; and he saw, with swift
+seeing, the shapeliness of the long, thin fingers and the graceful,
+rounded arm.
+
+"You are thoughtful, _mon ami_," she said, with a soft lightness.
+"Tell me what you are thinking of."
+
+"I don't know.  I don't think I am thinking at all.  I feel rather as
+if I were sunning myself in your smiles, like a cat."
+
+"You like being here, like this?"
+
+"I love it."
+
+"Then come often.  Why not?"
+
+"I shall bore you."
+
+"I think not.  It is pleasant to me also to have some one keeping me
+company in such a natural, homely way.  You see, I am very much alone.
+I have no women friends except Hal, who is nearly always engaged; and
+there are not many men one can invite to come and sit by one's
+fireside.  You seem to come so naturally and simply.  It is clever of
+you.  Very few men could.  It is difficult to believe you are only
+twenty-four."
+
+"I fancy years often do not go for very much.  I have travelled about
+alone a great deal.  Anyhow, you are just as young for thirty-two as I
+am old for twenty-four."
+
+"Hal has helped to keep me young.  She restores me like some patent
+elixir.  I suppose I love her more than any one in the world."
+
+"I'm not surprised," he answered.  "A good many people love Hal.  Dick
+and Quin just dote on her."
+
+She looked at him keenly a moment.
+
+"I am spared wasting my affection," he added, "by her obvious contempt
+for me."
+
+"She doesn't mean any of it.  She only wants to rouse you."
+
+"Still, she succeeds in making me feel rather a worm."
+
+Lorraine made no comment, but she could not resist a little inward
+smile at the thought of any one making such a man feel a worm.  She
+realised there might be no harm in the leavening influence.
+
+The clock struck seven, and he gave a start, rising quickly to his feet
+beside her.  Lorraine was a little under medium height if anything, and
+as they stood together he seemed to tower above her like some splendid
+prehistoric human, while she appeared as some exquisite miniature, or
+frail and perfect piece of Dresden china.
+
+And again it seemed  as if his physical beauty acted upon her with some
+irresistible magnetism, flowing round her and over her and through her,
+till she was enveloped and obsessed by him.
+
+His age was nothing, years are mere detail; she felt only that he was a
+splendid creature, and everything in her gloried in it.  She rested her
+hand lightly on his arm.
+
+"How big you are.  You almost overpower me."
+
+He smiled down at her, but it was just a quiet, friendly smile, and she
+could not tell if her touch stirred him.
+
+"I'm afraid I am rather a monster.  It is sometimes a nuisance."
+
+"Ah, don't say that.  I am quite sure the first Adam was as big as you,
+and Eve was frightened and ran away, but she wouldn't for the world
+have had him an inch smaller.  And every true Eve since has gloried in
+the man who towered above her, and was a little terrifying in his
+strenght.  Don't let them spoil you," she added with a note of
+wistfulness, "all the Eves who must needs follow with or without  your
+bidding."
+
+"I imagine Hal will counteract much of that; and the feeling, when I am
+with you, that I am just a great, brainless, useless animal."
+
+"No; you are not that; and you are quite extraordinarily unspoilt as
+yet.  Come and see me again soon, when you've nothing better to do."
+
+"How soon?"
+
+He was looking hard into her face now, almost as if he were only just
+fully realising her beauty, and she flushed a little as she met his
+ardent eyes and answered:
+
+"As soon as you like."
+
+"Friday is my first free evening."
+
+"The come and dine here quietly.  I shall not act this week at all.  I
+shall run down to the sea from Saturday to Monday."
+
+She had intended to go on Friday afternoon, but with his nearness all
+Flip Denton's sage advice vanished from her mind, and instead of
+running away as he urged, she went a step nearer to the temptation.
+
+When he had gone she sat down in the arm chair he had used, and stared
+hard at the fire.  Jean came in to urge her to go to bed, but she only
+said:
+
+"No; I like this room and the fire.  Bring me the fish, or whatever it
+is, here.  I will go to bed about half-past eight if you like, but not
+before."
+
+So she sat on, and in her heart she saw still the fine face, with its
+unspoiled freshness, and felt his presence still filling the room.
+
+It would seem Fate had brought her and Hal together into the arena of
+new happenings and new feelings, for amont the crowded houses of
+Bloomsbury, in a little high-up bedroo near the sky, Hal sat on the
+edge of her bed leisurely brushing her long, bright hair, and pondering
+a telephone message that had asked her to go for a motor ride the
+following Saturday.
+
+"It means putting Amy off," was her final cogitation, "but I think I'll
+go.  It wil be such fun, and I'm rather sick of work."
+
+So, in spite of strong wills and common-sense warning, we still, as
+ever, let our footsteps follow the alluring paths, and go boldly forth
+to meet a joy, ever careless of the following sorrow that may accompany
+it, until the hour of shunning is past.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The following Friday afternoon Lorraine went out with Flip Denton in
+his motor, and among his first questions was:
+
+"Well, how is the foolish falling in love progressing?"
+
+"It is stationary.  I've got another friend I want to keep, Flip;
+another friend like you."
+
+"Ah, I can't pass that.  You were never even remotely in sight of
+falling in love with me.  And you know what Kipling says: 'Love's like
+line-work; you can't stand still, you must go backward or forward.'
+You don't propose to take my advice and run away from it?"
+
+"Not before I am sure there is danger, anyhow."
+
+They were silent some moments, then she asked him:
+
+"Do men ever run away, Flip?...  My experience has been that the
+average man always has a good try to get what he wants, without much
+consideration for outside things, or for youth, or for harm."
+
+"That's because beautiful women necessarily come up against the worst
+in men.  It is their fate: one of the balancing conditions perhaps to
+make things more even with the less-favoured women."
+
+"I suppose great beauty generally undoes a woman.  Is it the same with
+men too?  It seems a pity when Nature produces anything beautiful she
+should not guard it better - beautiful flowers, beautiful birds,
+beautiful creatures all ravished the quickest; while the little,
+comfortable daisies, and sparrows, and homely people go serenely on
+unharmed."
+
+He did not reply, and they sped along in the understanding silence they
+were both so fond of.
+
+Denton was thinking, as a man may, of various pretty faces that had
+been the undoing of their owners, and wondering a little dimly and
+confusedly about the paradoxical contrariness of Nature, who gives a
+man his strongest desires nearly always towards forbidden ends.  Why
+create a beautiful thing, and then create a longing for it, and then
+probably descend in wrath upon both heads which did but follow the bent
+she herself had given them?
+
+Lorraine was wondering a little bitterly why a man may taste forbidden
+fruit again and again and go unpunished; and why a woman, so often set
+amid sterner temptations, was yet left so strangely unprotected: the
+one so quickly able to put an incident aside, and seek fresh fields for
+conquest; the other so terribly liable to be branded for life in that
+same incident.
+
+It made a bitterness surge up in her soul for her own unprotected
+girlhood and struggling youth; and for all they had brought her to
+learn of the tree of knowledge.  No doubt she had been callous enough
+about it at the time; eager only to dare, and triumph, and achieve; but
+how should it have been otherwise, since no kindly guiding hand had
+told her she was wasting her powers and her substance to achieve an end
+that would never satisfy her soul?
+
+Did she even know she had a soul that would presently crave a
+satisfaction found only among the higher and better things, and turn
+away with infinite scorn from the petty triumphs of an hour or a day?
+
+Well, she had fought her fight with the rest, and triumphed greatly in
+the world's eyes; and now she must abide by the path she had chosen,
+and glean the best satisfaction she could out of it.
+
+And yet -
+
+Later in the afternoon, when she sat drinking a lonely cup of tea by a
+lonely fireside, the questioning, probing mood returned again; the
+significant "and yet" still left the last conclusion without any
+finality.  Looking backward, a sense of resentment seemed to creep over
+her; a combative desire to get even with Fate about many things while
+there was time nd opportunity.
+
+She remembered particularly the first man who had tried to lead her
+astray.  He had been considerably more than twice her age, a hardened
+sinner without any compunction, with a devilish cunning at breaking
+down defences without any seeming over-persuasion, and at whitewashing
+his actions into passionate devotion to youngn inexperienced years.
+She remembered how she had struggled to resist him.  It was good to
+remember now that she had not been his victim.
+
+And yet, what of it, while such men could triumph again and again and
+go seemingly unpunished, and young, eager, ambitious souls were often
+so pitifully stranded at the beginning of a career?
+
+Men of his age and his character usually did triumph.  How often had
+she seen it since!  The first wrong step not a generous-hearted,
+hot-headed youth; but a hardened sinner who had wearied of other
+hardened sinners and turned his evil designs to youth and freshness,
+hoping perchance to be rejuvenated thereby.
+
+And Nature stood by with folded hands, and saw her fairest creations
+soiled and ravished before they had reached maturity, without
+apparently the smallest compunction.
+
+Her first wrong step had been her marriage, and though it had given her
+a good deal in the beginning, in the end how it had robbed her!... ah!
+how it had robbed her of those things that could never be won back.
+
+And now, by an unlooked-for turn of events, she found herself among the
+world-wearied ones, asking for the divine freshness of youth.  If she
+chose to make him love her she believed she could.
+
+And yet? -
+
+She stood beside the window and leaned her haid against the framework,
+gazing at the river.  It was gliding smoothly along now, beautified and
+glorified by the reflected light of a setting sun.  How light
+transfigured!
+
+The murky, muddy, sullen Thames, so often going with its countless
+burdens, as one enslaved unwillingly to the needs of commerce, now
+flashing, shining, silver waters hastening joyfully out to sea.  She
+felt that often and often her life had been as the shadowed, murky
+waters, enslaved unwillingly by bonds that circumstances had created.
+
+She thought how his life, the life of this man who was beginning to
+fill her soul, was still like the joyous, shining, waters reflecting
+sunlight.  Was it possible she wanted to bring the shadows and dim its
+silver radiance for her own gratifications?
+
+And even so, was it in any case likely to go undimmed much longer?  The
+shadows were certain enough to come, if not through her, perhaps
+through some one with less soul, and less fineness of aim, who would do
+him far greater harm.  Her love for him was not, at least, entirely
+selfish.
+
+She knew that she cared very much for his future.  She cared very much
+that life should give him a chance to fulfill the best of his promise.
+
+And if the chance came by shadows, well, across the river of a man's
+life they flitted lightly enough as a rule, chasing each other away,
+and leaving the waters still flowing joyfully.  It was only for a
+woman, apparently, the shadows left a stain that even the sunlight
+could not chase away.
+
+It would seem woman was made a helpmeet for man in many ways beside
+that of keeping his home and bearing his children.  How often dit he
+owe his best development and best achievements to her, absorbing light
+from her in some mysterious ordering, and soaring away afterwards while
+she was left among the shadows.
+
+Yet, by some equally mysterious compensation, a woman was often so
+fashioned that if she could feel the upward flight was won through her,
+she might rest statisfied even though him she loved had soared away.
+It was the mother-love blending strangely with the wife-love; the
+protecting, inspiring, unselfish, mothering instinct, lying in the soul
+of every true-hearted woman.
+
+Standing gazing at the flashing river, Lorraine, in the midst of her
+probing, knew that it was his ultimate success and good she wanted, as
+well as his freshness to sweeten her own life.
+
+And yet? -
+
+What if she brought a shadow where there would otherwise have been no
+shadow, dimmed a brightness that, without her, had gone undimmed?  She
+knew he was not weak naturally.  He did not need any strengthening;
+only impetus, ambition, aim, and some safeguarding by the way.
+
+She smiled a little drearily at the recollection that it was from her,
+herself, that probably his own people would think he needed
+safeguarding.  She could foresee that they would likely enough hurl
+themselves between him and her, oblivious that by doing so they might
+very possibly be the cause of driving him to far worse.  But that, of
+course, no one could help; as how should they know the fine shades
+between the women who lived outside the conventions?
+
+But then again, they need not know that the great friendship existed -
+why should they?  After all, few would credit the celebrated, beautiful
+actress with anything beyond a passing fancy for the youthful,
+briefless barrister.
+
+And yet? -
+
+Across every fresh pathway she turned her thoughts along, was still
+that arresting, intangible, "and yet".
+
+The pity of it!  At least he was strong, and true, and unspoilt now.
+Why not give life a chance to leave him so?
+
+Why not give Fate a chance to endow him quickly with the rich, blessed
+love that kept a man walking straight and strong along his steadfast
+way?
+
+But again the thought came back of what he would lose, what he must
+inevitably lose, if he missed the storm and stress and struggle that
+are as the mill and furnace through wich the gold is refined, and
+hardened, and separated from the dross.
+
+She went back to the fireside feeling that her probing had brought her
+nowhither, and that she was only very tired and very depressed.
+
+Then she went slowly  away to dress, and chose, somewhat to Jean's
+surprise, one of the simplest evening frocks she possessed.  Jean,
+knowing the tall, beautiful new friend was coming to dinner, had laid
+out an elaborate dinner-dress, and arranged the jewel cases for
+selection.
+
+"Put them away at once," was all her mistress said, with one sweeping
+glance round.  "I shall wear that little blue Liberty gown and a single
+row of pearls."
+
+When Alymer came he found her already seated by the fire, engaged with
+some knitting.
+
+"How nice and homely," he said.  "I never associated you with anything
+so commonplace as sewing."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't sew very well," with a little smile.  "I can knit
+this, and that is about all."
+
+"Are you better?" and he scanned her face critically, in an
+old-fashioned way that gave her secret yoy.
+
+"Yes, sir, thnak you," with a low laugh.
+
+He laughed too, and took up his stand on the hearthrug, with his hands
+behind his back, in a natural, quite-at-home way, that seemed to come
+easily to him.
+
+"How jolly it is to see a fire.  My mater always seems afraid of
+beginning too soon.  I think she has a sort of feeling that if winter
+sees fires started he will hurry."
+
+"I never leave them off.  My fire is one of my staunchest companions.
+An empty grate always depresses me,  because if it is sunny and hot I
+want to be out-of-doors, and if it is not, I want my fire.  Let us go
+to dinner, then we can get back and purr over it to our hearts'
+content."
+
+Because it pleased her to make him an honoured guest, Lorraine had been
+at considerable pains in ordering her dinner, and she was gratified to
+observe that it was not wasted on him.
+
+Certainly, among other things at Oxford he had learnt to know a good
+dinner and good wine, and enjoy them as a connoisseur.  It amused her
+also to observe that the old-fashioned air with which he had inquired a
+little masterfully after her health, grew upon him as the evening
+progressed.
+
+She thought he must be a little bit of a tyrant to his mother, and any
+one he was specially fond of.  Not dictatorially so, but with a
+humorous, half-satirical insistence that was very engaging.
+
+When the sat over the fire together, later, she found herself telling
+him many things about her early struggles, and first successes, not in
+the least in a "talking down" attitude, but as to a very sympathetic
+companion of her own age.
+
+It was evident he was truly interested, and this made him a charming
+listener.  And he told her yet further of his own hopes, and
+disappointments, and discouragements.  Several times since he took his
+degree, one friend or another had held out hopeful expectations of
+being able to put him  on to this case of that, which might bring a
+brief.  And always the hope had failed, and the promise ended in smoke.
+
+She gave him sympathy in her turn, and said she would not raise his
+expectations unkindly, but she believed she could really help him to
+get a start.  She would speak to Lord Denton about it.  He was always
+ready to do a little thing like that for her.
+
+"He is one of those dear people," she told him, "who seem to try to
+make up for their own incorrigible laziness by going out of their way
+to put some one else in the way of a start."
+
+She saw the colour deepen in his face, and a subdued light shine in his
+eyes, as he thanked her rather haltingly.  The little show of
+diffidence was very charming.  How far removed, how amazingly far
+removed he was from the average good-looking youth of twenty-four, who
+was usually so anxious to impress every one with his attributes and his
+powers.
+
+And he was not even average.  Every time she saw him she wondered
+afresh at his extraordinary wealth of attraction.  One could have
+forgiven him a few airs and mannerisms; but no forgiveness was asked:
+in every single phrase she found him always the modest, unassuming,
+high-bred gentleman.
+
+So they sat on and talked, and for the time being the warfare of the
+afternoon passed from her mind.  Probing seemed suddenly out of place.
+Why probe?...  Their friendship had slipped of itself into an old
+companionship.  What need for more?  She knew instinctively he would
+come often to fill her lonely hours, and tell her all about his work
+and his doings.
+
+And sometimes they would go out together on little jaunts.  If they
+did, who need know, or who, at any rate, need gossip?  She felt a
+gladness grow in her mind at the thought of the happy friendship they
+might have; guarded perhaps from harm by the disparity in their years,
+and at the same time of inestimable benefit to him, and pleasure to
+her.  She felt almost motherly as she laid her fingers lightly on his
+arm, with a little laughing jest, as they stood together before parting.
+
+"I have enjoyed my evening of invalidism so much.  Come and see me
+again soon, won't you?"
+
+"I should love to.  You are very good to me."
+
+"Oh, no; I'm not.  Don't let us talk of goodness in that way.  I like
+your company; and it is good to have what one likes.  I shall expect
+you again soon, Alymer - I may call you Alymer, mayn't I?...  Mr.
+Hermon is so overpowering."
+
+"I wish you would.  I would have asked you, only I was afraid you might
+think it cheek."
+
+"Very well then, _Alymer_," with emphasis, "when I have spoken to Lord
+Denton I will telephone you; and I hope he will be able to start you
+off on a road that will very nearly end in a verdict of 'Suffocated
+with briefs.'"
+
+"Or 'briefly suffocated'," he laughed, and beat a hasty retreat, for
+fear of a reprisal.
+
+When he had gone, Lorraine sat again in the firelight, and it seemed as
+if the stress and unrest had fallen from her, and only the memory of a
+pleasant companionship remained.  They were going to be the best of
+pals - why not - and why seek to probe any further?
+
+Apparently he was not susceptible, and cared more for his profession
+than any one supposed, and so, since she liked to have him there to
+glory in his comeliness, they could form a mutual benefit society, and
+no one need be hurt at all.  It was all quite simple, and she went to
+bed feeling rested and refreshed, and looking forward hopefully for the
+pleasant meetings to come?
+
+Flip Denton was running down to Brighton for the week-end also, to take
+her out on the Sunday in his car; and he noticed at once that a shadow
+wich had hovered over her eyes of late had vanished.
+
+"You are looking topping," he told her.  "What about the love affair,
+is it all satisfactorily off?  It has been worrying you a little of
+late."
+
+"It is not exactly off," she replied, "but it is more satisfactorily
+placed.  We are going to be real good pals.  He is going to keep me
+company in some of my lonely hours, and I am going to try and help him
+to get briefs.  I am relying on you for the first one, Flip."
+
+"The dickens you are.  My dear girl, why should I put myself out to
+acquire a brief for a rival?"
+
+"Oh, just because you are you.  You know you will love it, Flip!  You
+will get him a brief, and then you will pat yourself on the back and
+say: 'I know I'm a lazy dog myself, but I'm a devil of a good chap at
+getting other fellows work.'"
+
+"So I am" - enjoying her thrust - "and it's a splendid line, and gives
+far more satisfaction in the end.  If I tried to work I should only
+make a mess of it, and drive some one nearly crazy, whereas, in putting
+another chap on to a job I give such a lot of folks pleasure, I feel I
+am getting square with the Almighty."
+
+"Then you'll try, Flip?"
+
+"It is humanly possible, he shall have a brief of his very own within
+the next month."
+
+"You are a dear.  Sometimes I think you are the most adorable person I
+know."
+
+"You don't think it long enough at a time, Lorry.  You are too prone to
+go off suddenly after false gods measuring six-foot-five-and-a-half
+inches and with the faces of Apollo Belvederes."
+
+"Probably it is a merciful precaution on the part of our guardian
+angels, Flip; and, anyhow, you know you like a little variation
+yourself in the way of bulk, and sound, practical, indecorous chorus
+girldom."
+
+"I do," was his unabashed affirmative.  "Nice, comfortable, elevating
+palliness with you; and a right down rollicking bust-up occasionally
+with the ladies of the unpretending school of wild oats."
+
+"I want my giant for the present to be satisfied with his palliness
+with me and his work.  Do you think he will?"
+
+"As I haven't seen him I can't say.  If I get the chance, however, I'll
+tell him that "wild oats' are the very devil, and I'd give all I've got
+to have stuck to work and had naught to do with'em."
+
+"You know you wouldn't, Flip," with a little laugh.
+
+"I know I couldn't, you mean; but I never admit it to juniors."
+
+"Well, you shall come to the flat to meet him.  If he gets a brief,
+we'll have a little dinner party, and I'll ask Hal and her cousin and
+St. Quintin."
+
+"Right you are.  I haven't seen Miss Pritchard for ages.  Shall we turn
+now, and go back by Rottingdean?"
+
+"Let us go wichever way has the best view of the sea.  I feel I want to
+look at wide, breezy spaces for a while, and not talk at all."
+
+"You shall," he promised, and they sped along in silence.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+When Hall sat on the side of her bed, brushing her hair and meditating
+on her irritation, she had not misjudged when she anticipated great
+enjoyment from an afternoon run with her new friend.
+
+It would have been difficult indeed to say who enjoyed it the most.
+Hal was in great form, and Sir Edwin Crathie half unconsciously took
+his tone from her, dropping his usual attitude towards women he liked,
+and adopting instead one as gay and careless and inconsequent as hers.
+
+It was not in the nature of the man to desist from flirting with her,
+but his pretty speeches were coupled with a humour and chaff that
+robbed them of any pointedness, and merely resulted in an amusing
+amount of parry and thrust, over which they both laughed
+whole-heartedly.
+
+"You are an absolute witch," he told her as they sat enjoying  a big
+tea at an hotel on the south coast; "ever since we started you have
+made me behave more or less like a school-boy, and a tea like this is
+the climax."
+
+"It's a good thing I am the only witness," she laughed.  "The poorness
+of your jokes alone would have horrified your colleagues, but to see
+you eating such a tea must have meant a request for your resignation -
+it is so incompatible with the dignity of a Cabinet Minister."
+
+"I had almost forgotten I was a Cabinet Minister.  Gad! but it's nice
+to get right away from the cares of office occasionally like this.
+When will you come again?"
+
+"Oh, I don't think I must come any more," roguishly.  "I'm sure Brother
+Dudley will not consent."
+
+"What has Brother Dudley go to do with it?...  Did he consent this
+time?"
+
+"Not exactly.  I anticipated his willingness."
+
+"You little fibber.  You mean you anticipated his firm refusal, and
+took French leave, so that you need not disobey him."
+
+"It is true that Dudley and I differ occasionally, but I do not disobey
+him... if I can help it."
+
+"Well, if you took French leave this time, you can easily do it again."
+
+"But this time it was a novelty.  I was curious to find out how I
+should enjoy an afternoon with you?"
+
+"Rubbish.  You knew perfectly well you would enjoy it immensely.  So
+did I.  Two people who like each other always know those kind of things
+at once."
+
+Hal leaned back in her chair, and her expressive mouth twitched in a
+way that made him long to kiss it hard.
+
+"There are occasions when I don't like you at all," she said.
+
+"Fibber again.  When don't you like me?"
+
+"Chiefly when you are quite positive certain sure that I do."
+
+"Well, that is never; so you are a fibber."
+
+"I thought you seemed particularly confident nine seconds ago."
+
+"I was only teasing you.  I could hardly have been serious after you
+have called me a worm, and an old man.  So now - when will you come
+again?"
+
+"In about a month.  Let's go out as Guys on the fifth of November."
+
+"A month be blowed!  I want to know which day next week?"
+
+"I am full up next week."
+
+"Full up of what?"
+
+"Lorraine Vivian, Dick Bruce, Quin, the Beloved Chief, and the Baby."
+
+"What a list!  Is Lorraine Vivian the actress?  Who are Quin and the
+Baby?"
+
+"She is... and they are!..."
+
+"Who does the Baby belong to?"
+
+"It would be difficult to say.  About a dozen probably claim him."
+
+"And doesn't he know his own mother?"
+
+"Oh, I wasn't thinking of mothers."
+
+"Who were you thinking of?"
+
+"The ladies who have lost their hearts to him."
+
+"I see.  Are you one of them?"
+
+"I am not.  You see, his beauty has never struck me all of a heap,
+because I've got so used to it."
+
+"Is he a beautiful baby, or a youth, or a man?"
+
+"A bit of all three.  He stands 6 ft. 5 1/2 in., and is superbly
+handsome.  I call him sometimes, for variation, the stuffed
+blue-and-gold Apollo."
+
+"Well, that's better than 'a positive worm'," laughing, "but I don't
+mind him.  Who is Quin?"
+
+"Quin is a philanthropist, sentimentalist, and hero.  He spends his
+life working in the East End."
+
+"I don't mind him either, and Dick Bruce I've seen.  The actress
+doesn't count, and your precious chief you see every day.  Now, then,
+when will you come again?"
+
+He got up from his seat and came round to her side of the table.  He
+had a vague intention of imprisoning her hand, and perhaps her waist,
+but some indescribable quality held him off.  It was difficult to
+suppose she did not half guess what was in his mind, and yet, without
+showing the smallest consciousness or shyness, she faced him with a
+look so boyishly frank and open it utterly disarmed him.
+
+"I am not a bit more persuasive on my right side than my left, and I
+have promised next Saturday to the Three Graces - who are Dick and Quin
+and Baby.  We are going to the Crystal Palace to see a football match."
+
+"Then what about Sunday?"
+
+"Oh, I can't come on Sunday."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I hardly know, except that it usually belongs to Dudley or Dick."
+
+"Next Sunday needn't."
+
+"Well, that's what I don't know."
+
+"Yes you do."  He moved a little nearer.  "You've got to keep next
+Sunday for me.  It's my turn.  We'll have a splendid day.  We'll take
+Peter, and we'll start early and fly down to the New Forest.  It's
+glorious in the autumn.  We'll have a picnic-lunch, and tea at an hotel
+on the way back.  So that's settled."  He got up, and lifted her ulster
+from the back of a chair.  "Now come along, and we'll slip home before
+it gets late enough to cause trouble."
+
+Hal let it pass for the time, and got into her ulster.  She was clever
+enough to see the advantage of retaining a way of escape if she changed
+her mind, or accepting the invitation if she wanted to later on.
+
+She knew perfectly well a girl did not always go out for a whole day
+with a man like Sir Edwin with impunity; but she had also something of
+contempt for a girl who missed a great treat for want of pluck.  She
+preferred to leave the question open, and if she badly wanted to go at
+the end of the week she would not, at any rate, stay away because she
+was afraid.
+
+As it happened, circumstances played into Sir Edwin Crathie's hands.
+About Wednesday, with a diffidence that made Hal secretly amused and
+secretly curious, Dudley asked her if she would mind if he was away for
+the whole day on Sunday.  As she was generally away herself as long as
+the summer lasted, she wondered why he should ask her in that manner.
+It was just as they had finished breakfast, and he busied himself with
+his pipe-rack as he made the announcement.
+
+"Of course I don't mind," she said.  "Are you going into the country?"
+
+"Ye-es."  He seemed about to add something further, but changed his
+mind.  Hal, with a little inward chuckle, divined by his manner he must
+be going somewhere with a lady, and she was pleased, as she liked a man
+to have woman friends, believing they made him more broad-minded and
+tolerant and generous-hearted if well-chosen.
+
+She asked no further question, however, and Dudley commenced to whistle
+softly as he drew on his boots.  Evidently his mind was somewhat
+relieved after the sentence was said.
+
+So now it remained to discover Dick's attitude.  She could, of course,
+quite easily put him off; but she was not quite prepared to do this of
+her own initiative, as he had so generously placed all his Sundays at
+her disposal.  On Friday, however, he was speaking to her through the
+telephone.
+
+"I say, Hal, you're coming to the Footer match to-morrow, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes, of course I am.  Why?..."
+
+"Well, it's just this way.  I was going to motor the pater to Aunt
+Judith's, and I forgot all about it.  He wants me to take him on Sunday
+instead.  What shall I do?...  Would you care to come too?"
+
+Hal had not the smallest wish to go to Aunt Judith's, who belonged to
+the old school, and disapproved in a most outspoken manner of
+lady-clerks of every sort and description.  It was a constant grievance
+to her, when she set eyes on Hal,that she did not gratefully accept �20
+as secretary to a well-known, interesting editor.
+
+In consequence, Hal encountered her as little as possible, accepted
+gratefully her interesting, easy billet, and consigned the imaginary
+young children to a Hades peopled with nursery governesses.
+
+"Awfully sweet and good and kind of you, Dicky dear," she called back
+to him mockingly, "but I think I'll practise a little self-denial this
+time, and stay away."
+
+"Odd you should say that," he laughed, "because I consider I'm
+practising a little self-denial in going.  What shall you do with
+yourself?  Will Dudley be at home?"
+
+"No; he's going somewhere for the day, that has a nervous, apologetic
+sort of air about it.  I didn't press for particulars, but I'm dying to
+know.  I can't believe he would really take a gay young person out, and
+yet, judging by his manner, it might be a real flyer from Daly's."
+
+"Good old Dudley!...  Then I suppose you will go to Lorraine?"
+
+"Yes, I daresay I shall.  Good-bye, see you Saturday."
+
+Hal returned to her work in a meditative mood.  She was beginning to
+wonder why she had not had any message from Sir Edwin all the week.
+Had he changed his mind, or had he possibly forgotten?  If he rang her
+up presently what was she going to say?
+
+The notion that he had perhaps forgotten was not pleasing; and yet,
+with all he must have to think about during the week, it was equally
+not surprising.  As a matter of fact, it had been a most trying week
+for all Ministers.
+
+The party was emphatically growing into disfavour, and all brains had
+to be utilised to find the most efficacious remedy.  Sir Edwin had been
+very useful in his suggestions, for he had had considerable practice in
+getting what he wanted by artfulness if no straighter mode offered.
+
+His suggestions to His Majestu's Cabinet were masterpieces of political
+trickery, and their adoption was a foregone conclusion in spite of the
+Ministers who raised objections.  The party had to win back favour
+somehow, and at any rate his were the best plans that offered.
+
+But all through the stirring meetings of the week he never once forgot
+Hal.  His silence was merely an adaptation of the policy he was urging
+upon his colleagues.  If I leave her alone till Friday she will get
+piqued," was his thought, "and then she will come."
+
+Accordingly, soon after the luncheon hour he rang her up.
+
+"Hullo," he called.  "At last I have got a moment to speak to you."
+
+"What has happened to all the other moments?" she asked.
+
+"We've had a very anxious, worrying week in the House.  I've scarcely
+had time to get my meals.  You surely didn't suppose I had forgotten
+you - did you?"
+
+"I didn't suppose either way.  It didn't matter."
+
+The man at the other end of the wire smiled openly in his empty room.
+"Prevaricator," was his thought 'but, by Gad, she's game."
+
+"Well, anyhow I hadn't, and I wasn't likely to.  I only hope you
+haven't made another engagement for Sunday?  I'm badly in need of a
+long day in the country.  Are you still free?"
+
+"It depends -"
+
+"Oh, nonsense; you can't desert me at the last moment.  If I can't get
+that day off to run down to the New Forest, I shall have to go to a
+tiresome political luncheon party.  Now, be patriotic, and serve your
+country by attending to the needs of one of her harassed Ministers."
+
+"I am always patriotic."
+
+"Then that settles it.  I suppose I'd better not call for you.  I'll
+pick you up at South Kensington Station at 9.30.  Peter will make an
+excellent chaperone, so you needn't worry - good-bye"; and he rang off,
+leaving Hal to hang up the receiver, not quite sure whether she had
+been trapped or not.
+
+At his end he moved across to a window with the smile still lingering
+on his face.
+
+"Nothing like making up a woman's mind for her," he mused; "they're all
+alike when they are on the edge of the stream, hesitating about the
+plunge.  Give 'em a little shove, and once they're in they swim out
+boldly enough.  The trouble is, when they want to keep the whole river
+for themselves and will not brook any other swimmers.
+
+"I expect I'm going to have a devil of a time with Gladys, and she'll
+take a lot of squaring.  Women are the deuce when you're short of
+funds.  But I can't help being susceptible, and Hal has caught my fancy
+altogether.  Dear little girl, I expect she'll want a big shove yet
+before she'll take the real plunge.  But it's interesting, by Jove!
+it's interesting; and when she looks a veiled defiance at me with those
+candid, mischievous eyes of hers, I know I've got to win somehow."
+
+Hal went back to her work, feeling a little as if she had been swept
+off her feet; and she was not entirely without misgivings.  The
+possible impropriety of going out alone with a man for the whole day
+did not rouble her, but the nature of the man, she was shrewd enough to
+perceive, was a doubtful point.
+
+Of course she was perfectly aware that Aunt Judith, for instance, and
+Dudley, and probably her mother, had she been alive, would have been
+scandalised at such a proceeding; but then she had pluckily fended for
+herself so long, she did not consider she was any longer called upon to
+mould her actions according to their views.  She belonged to the large
+army of women who have to spend so much of their time on office chairs
+that their comparatively few hours of pleasure have no room for the
+ordinary conventions that hem round the leisured, home-walled maiden.
+
+If a treat offered, and it was reasonably within bounds, they took it
+and were thankful and gave no thought to the possibly uplifted hands of
+horror among possibly restricted relatives.  She was one of those who
+enjoy the freedom of the American girl, without being of those who,
+unfortunately, often fall short of her level-headed characteristics;
+largely perhaps through those very uplifted hands which suggest harm,
+where harm otherwise might never have been thought of.
+
+It was not, now, any suggestions born of uplifted hands that gave Hal
+that faint misgiving.  It was that growing doubt concerning the nature
+of the man, and a consciousness that she was unduly pleased the treat
+was actually to take place - a growing consciousness that in spite of
+the doubt she cared more about seeing Sir Edwin Crathie than most men,
+with a like recognition that this might seriously endanger her own
+peace of mind.
+
+It was all very well to go out together on a basis of good-fellowship
+and mutual enjoyment, so long as neither care anything beyond; but what
+if this unmistakable attraction he exercised over her deepened and
+widened?  What if the commonplace, middle-class Hal Pritchard,
+secretary and typist, fell in love with Sir Edwin Crathie, the Cabinet
+Minister, and nephew of Lord St. Ives?
+
+But she thrust the thought away, and apostrophised herself for a silly
+goose, who deserved to get hurt if she had not more sense.  Was he not
+twice her age, and brilliantly clever (so his own party said), and so
+obviously out of her range altogether that it would be sheer stupidity
+to allow herself to feel anything beyond the frank fellow-ship they now
+enjoyed?  She insisted vigorously to herself that it would, and went
+off to have dinner with Lorraine, who was once more delighting her
+London audience nightly.
+
+It was a curious thing which occured to both afterwards, that there had
+been some indefinable change, observable in each to each, dating from
+that particular evening.
+
+Lorraine was more contentedly gay than she had been for some time - a
+quiet, natural light-heartedness, born of some attainment that was
+giving her joy.  Hal was not clever enough to actually perceive this,
+but she did perceive that a certain restless, anxious indecision of
+manner and plans had passed away.  For the time being Lorraine was
+happy in a sense she had not been over her success.  That Alymer Hermon
+had anything to do with it never entered Hal's head.  She had treated
+the whole matter of Lorraine's attraction to him with the lightness
+that seemed its only claim, and scarcely remembered it at all.
+
+And yet, all the time, it was the young giant who was bringing the
+soothing and restfulness into the actress's storm-tossed life.  He was
+beginning to be with her constantly - to come to her with all his
+doings, and his imagings, and his hopes.  And, as she had suspected,
+natural or unnatural, he was the companion of all others who gave her
+the most pleasure at the time.
+
+World-wearied and brain-wearied with her own unsatisfying successes,
+she found a new interest in entering into his projects, and scheming
+and dreaming for his future instead of her own.
+
+She was quite open to herself about the probability that she would have
+felt nothing of the kind had he been merely a giant, or had he been
+plain.  It was the rare, and indeed remarkable combination of such
+physical attributes, with brains, and nobility and an utter absence of
+all assumption.
+
+She forgot about his youth and a certain natural crudity; and what he
+lacked in experience and development she easily balanced with the
+extraordinary physical attraction that had never ceased to sway her.
+
+For the rest, the future might go.  Her friendship would not hurt him,
+and his had become necessary to her.  If they dreamed over a volcano,
+what of it?  Most dreams for such lives as hers usually were in close
+proximity to sudden destruction.  Waves from nowhere came up and
+overwhelmed them.  Rocks from unseen heights fell on them and crushed
+them.  If she was wise she would take what the present offered, and
+leave the future alone.
+
+For Hal, on the other hand, had developed something of the restlessness
+that had fallen from Lorraine.  The new element dawning in her life was
+not a restful one; neihter did it lend itself to her usual spontaneous
+chaff and gay badinage.
+
+She told Lorraine about her afternoon drive, without giving half the
+particulars she would have done ordinarily; and when Lorraine asked her
+about Sunday, she only said she was perhaps going for another run with
+Sir Edwin.  Lorraine did not press the point, because she was having a
+day with Alymer, and was chiefly glad that Hal was happily provided
+with a companion to take Dick's place.
+
+Then she went off to her theatre, and Hal went home, wishing the next
+day were Sunday.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Dudley hardly new, himself, why he spoke diffidently about his plans
+for Sunday, and why he did not tell Hal outright that he was taking
+Doris Hayward to a picnic at Marlow, given by mutual friends of his and
+theirs - friends of the old vigorous days, when he and Basil Hayward
+had gone everywhere together, and Hal had still been a boisterous
+schoolgirl.  Perhaps he felt she might seem to have been rather
+unkindly left out.
+
+As a matter of fact, an invitation to include his sister had been
+given; but, for reasons he hardly stopped to face, he chose not to
+mention it.  That was after he had learnt from a visit to the little
+Holloway flat that nothing would persuade Ethel to leave her brother,
+who had been ailing more than usual of late, and Doris would accompany
+him alone.
+
+It had been with a curious mixture of feelings he had heard this.
+Things were very pitiful up at the little flat, and though his inmost
+sympathy had gone out generously enough to both girls, with a
+perversity born of narrow insight he had reserved the deepest of it for
+Doris.
+
+It seemed to him that she was so young to face such circumstances, and
+at such an early age to become saddened by the vicissitudes of life.
+In the depths of her wide blue eyes he saw unshed tears, and the little
+droop of her pretty mouth went straight to his heart.  He wanted to
+gather her up in his arms, and kiss her and pet her till she was again
+all sunshine and smiles.
+
+Ha was not unaware that Ethel probably suffered more, but her way of
+showing it, or perhaps hiding it, appealed to him less.  Instead of
+that mute distress of unshed tears, her quiet eyes wore an inscrutable
+veil.  It was as if the anguish behind the veil were something too
+terrible and too sacred to be looked upon by a workaday world; but
+Dudley only knew that a wall of reserve was between him and her trouble.
+
+And her firm, strong mouth had no engaging droop at the corners.  It
+was only if anything a little firmer, almost to sternness.
+
+Dudley believed that Basil was dying at last, after his weary
+martyrdom, and he believed that Ethel knew it; and in some vague way it
+hurt him that she gave no sign, and refused to be drawn into any speech
+concerning his increased weakness.
+
+Doris, on the other hand, spoke of it in a faltering, tearful voice,
+adding a little pitifully that it made it harder for her that Ethel was
+so distant and unsympathetic.
+
+In a sense the circumstances nonplussed Dudley altogether.  Some inner
+voice told him that such a depth of wondrous, unselfish devotion as
+Ethel showed to her invalid brother could not live in the same heart
+with hardness and want of sympathy; and yet there was the evidence of
+the swimming, melting eyes and drooping lips of the younger sister left
+out in the cold.
+
+Perhaps it was unfortunate that on that very evening of Dudley's visit
+Ethel had come home rather earlier than her wont, to find Doris not yet
+returned from her daily outing, and, in consequence, the fire out and
+the sick man shivering with cold.  He had looked so dreadfully ill that
+she had hastened first to get som brandy to revive him, only to find
+Doris had forgotten her promise to get the empty bottle replaced that
+morning.
+
+In desperation she had hastened to the other little flat on the same
+floor, hoping its inmate might chance to have a little to lend.
+
+The tenant was a lonely, harsh-featured spinster, who eked out a
+precarious living by teaching music.  Ethel knew her slightly, as a
+gaunt woman who usually toiled up the stairs with a sort of scornful
+weariness of herself and everything else.
+
+She knew that because she was not fashionable, nor striking, nor
+well-dressed, she taught mostly in rather second-rate schools, and
+often had to take long journeys to her pupils, coming home tired and
+worn at night to an empty, comfortless little dwelling, to light her
+own fire and cook her own evening meal.
+
+She knew, too, that she was a gentlewoman, the daughter of a poor
+clergyman, left penniless, to fight a hard world alone.  Had her own
+home been happier, she would gladly have asked her to join them
+sometimes; but the weight of Basil's illness, and her own usual
+condition of weariness, had left the invitation always unspoken.
+
+"A little brandy," the music-teacher echoed, with a quick note of
+concern; "yes, I believe I have a drop.  Is it your brother?  Let me
+come and see if I can help?"
+
+"Thank you," Ethel had replied, trying not to allow her voice to show
+how much she would have preferred not to accept the proffered help.  "I
+think I can manage quite well."
+
+But the gaunt spinster followed her across the little landing
+obstinately.  She had seen Doris out half an hour before, and knew that
+she had not yet returned.
+
+"Ah, you have no fire," she said, in her somewhat grating voice; "if
+you will let me I will light it," and without more ado she had procured
+coals and wood for herself, and was down on her knees before the empty
+grate.
+
+Ethel turned away with a sick, helpless feeling over Doris'
+selfishness, and after administering a few drops of brandy, chafed the
+sick man's hands and feet.  When Basil felt better he glanced up
+curiously at the strange, dried-up-looking female who had just
+succeeded in persuading a cheerful blaze to brighten the room.  She
+looked back into his face frankly.
+
+"You needn't mind me," she informed him; "I'm only the music-teacher
+from the opposite flat."
+
+"You seem to be rather a kind sort of music-teacher," he said, with his
+winsome smile, "even if you do only come from the opposite flat."
+
+The hard face relaxed a very little, and she shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Oh, well, it isn't easy to be kind," she answered, "when you don't
+stand for much else in the universe but a letter of the alphabet."  She
+turned back to her grate and commenced sweeping up the ashes.
+
+Basil roused himself a little further and looked interested.
+
+"What letter do you stand for?"
+
+"Just G."  She gave a low, harsh laugh.  "G is the letter that
+distinguishes my flat from the others, and it is all I stand for to God
+or man."
+
+"I see."  His white, pain wrung face looked extraordinarily kind.
+"Well, G, I'm very deeply grateful to you for coming across to light my
+fire; and I'm glad there happened to be a G in the universe this
+afternoon."
+
+She turned her head away sharply, that neither of them might see the
+sudden, swift mist that dimmed her eyes, but she only answered:
+
+"All the same, if there had been no G, and no you, the universe would
+have had an atom less pain in it, and no one have been any the worse."
+
+"That's where you're wrong," he told her, "because Ethel couldn't have
+done without me, and if you put your head in at my door occasionally,
+and just remark to F that G is across the passage, F will be glad the
+universe didn't decide to leave G out of the alphabet."
+
+The woman looked at him a moment with a curious expression in her eyes.
+ Then she said:
+
+"Well, if _you_ can take the insult of a maimed, or joyless, or cursed
+life like that, it oughtn't to be so very hard for me to be glad I
+happened to be able to come over and light your fire."
+
+"Nor so very hard to come again."
+
+"Ah!..." she hesitated, then said to him, looking half-defiantly
+towards Ethel: "Time after time, when I thought you were alone, I've
+wanted to just look in and see if you were all right.  But I didn't
+like to.  People don't take to me as a rule, and I'm... I'm... well,
+I'm not an ingratiating sort of person, and I guessed, probably, you'd
+all rather do without any help I had to give."
+
+"It was kind of you to think of us at all," Ethel said, not quite sure
+whether Basil would like her to come in or not.
+
+"You guessed wrong," was his answer.  "_I_ think it would be very nice
+of you to look in occasionally.  It certainly seems rather absurd for
+you to be all alone there, and I all alone here, when we both want a
+little company.  I'm sure the alphabet was not meant to be so
+unsociable."
+
+"It just depends."
+
+She got up from her keneeling posture on the hearth, and stood, a
+grotesque apparition enough, looking at him with her greenish,
+nondescript eyes.  Her hay-coloured hair was tightly drawn back from a
+high, bulging forehead, her eyebrows were so light they scarcely showed
+at all, while her nose, which started in a nice straight line, had
+failed her at the last moment by suddenly taking an upward turn in an
+utterly incongruous fashion.  She had high cheek-bones, a parchment
+skin, and a mouth that was not much more than a slit; the grotesque
+effect of the whole being heightened by a long, thin neck, which she
+made no effort to cover with a neat high collar, but accentuated by a
+half-and-half untidily loose one.
+
+She wore a cheap, ready-made blouse, with absurd little bows tacked on
+down the front, which Ethel longed to abolish with one sweep, and her
+skirt, which had shrunk considerably in front, sagged in a dejected
+fashion behind.
+
+Yet to Basil's kindly eyes, there was something behind it all that was
+attractive.  Fore one thing, she was so eminently sincere.  One felt
+she had no delusions whatever, concerning her appearance or her
+oddities; and though she looked out upon life with that scornful,
+resentful air, she had yet a keener sense of humour and a clearer brain
+than most women.  Under different circumstances she might have been a
+success.
+
+As it was, she appeared to have got into a wrong groove altogether,
+and, unable to extricate herself, to have merely become an oddity.
+Basil, from his couch, looked up at her with friendly eyes, and she
+finished:
+
+"One may want a little company, without wanting just any company."
+
+"You think you will find me even duller than nothing?" and his eyes
+twinkled.
+
+"You know I didn't mean that.  You are clever, and well-read, and
+probably fastidious.  I'm... well, you see what I am! and no good for
+anything except trying to restrain horrible children from thumping till
+they break the notes."
+
+"I thought you said you were a music-teacher?"
+
+"That's what they call it," with a dry grimace; "but when I dare to be
+honest, I have too much respect for music."
+
+"Well, you won't have to weary your soul restraining me from thumping
+anything, so it will be a change to come and talk to me.  We'll turn
+the tables, and I'll try and restrain you from thumping the universe
+too hard."
+
+"It would be much more to the point if we thumped together: I, because
+I'm not wanted, and it's an insult to foist me on to mankind whether I
+like it or not; and you, because... well, because you are a strong man
+cursed with helplessness."
+
+"Very well, if you come in that particular mood, we'll just play
+football with the bally old universe, so to speak.  The main point to
+me is, that we take a rise out of the powers that be, by being a source
+of entertainment occasionally to each other.  As our alphabetical
+significance in the general scheme is next door to each other, we may
+as well get what we can out of the circumstance."
+
+She turned aside, looking half humorous and half satirical.
+
+"It sounds well enough as you say it, but I expect the powers are
+sneering diabolically at us both.  However, if you'll let me try to be
+some sort of company, I'll come across again soon -"
+
+A latch-key was heard in the door, and a moment later Doris entered.
+When she saw the two women she looked taken aback, and stammered
+something about not knowing the time.
+
+"When I got in Basil's fire was out, and he was perished with cold,"
+Ethel said coldly; "and as I had to go to Miss... Miss -"
+
+"Call it G," put in the music-teacher, with a comical twist of her
+mouth.
+
+" - for brandy, she came over and lit the fire for me."
+
+"I couldn't help not knowing the time," Doris murmured in a low,
+grumbling voice, and went away to take her hat off.
+
+The music-teacher glanced from one to the other, as if about to say
+something, but changed her mind and moved towards the door.  On the
+treshold she looked back, and said in her short, dry way:
+
+"If F wants anything of G, G will be ready to come instantly."
+
+"Thank you," Basil and Ethel replied together, the former adding, "And
+don't forget to put your head in at the door occasionally, by way of a
+reminder."
+
+Ethel said no more to Doris, because she felt it useless, but her
+silence as they prepared the evening meal together signified her
+disapproval.  She was deeply worried about Basil's failing strength,
+and longed to speak of it to someone who could understand; but felt
+such selfish forgetfulness as Doris showed shut her out from any
+sympathetic discussion.
+
+Then Dudley came, and while Doris looked woebegone and sad, Ethel's
+face was a little stern with stress and anxiety.  Basil tried valiantly
+to be cheerful enough for all three, but the effort cost him almost
+more strength than he could muster.
+
+After Dudley had gone, carrying with him the image of Doris's plaintive
+prettiness and pathetic solitariness, and thinking gladly of the
+pleasure it would be to take her to Marlow on Sunday, Ethel slipped on
+her knees beside Basil's couch, overcome for a moment by the burden of
+his suffering, and the difficulties of their lives.
+
+Often after Dudley had been, and some little act or glance or word had
+seemed to emphasise the barrier between them, her yearning over Basil
+had broken down her courage.  When she had lost them both, what would
+become of her then? was the question that utterley undid her, finding
+no reply beyond a sense of empty darkness.
+
+She told herself she would go right away to another land - to some far
+colony - where she could begin life afresh, with her haunting memories
+kept in the background.  She would not stay to see the awakening come
+to Dudley, if Doris were his wife, nor struggle through the long months
+at the General Post Office, when the end of each day's labour brought
+no welcoming smile from Basil.
+
+She would not settle down alone in a dingy little flat as their
+opposite neighbour, to become a mere letter of the alphabet to God and
+man, surrounded by countless other cyphers of as little meaning and
+account.  She would go away to some new, young land, with her vigour
+and her courage, and carve out a path with some semblance of reality
+and value.
+
+Only, could she ever get away from the awful emptiness that would come
+to her with the loss of Basil, and the utter lack of any incentive to
+carry on the unequal struggle?
+
+Basil laid his hand on her bowed head, and for a little while seemed
+unable to speak.  Then he steadied his voice, and rallied her with his
+brave, whimsical thoughts.
+
+"Wouldn't the dear old pater have enjoyed G?  She's just the kind of
+oddity he doted on.  Fancy her teaching music of all things.  It must
+be only scales and exercises.  I think she's splendid to see the
+incongruity herself, and refuse to call it music when she dare be
+honest.  What a grotesque figurehead she looks, chum, doesn't she?  I
+thoroughly enjoyed talking to her."
+
+But Ethel could not answer to his cheeriness just yet.
+
+"Basil, why are so many humans just mere letters of the alphabet in the
+general scheme?"
+
+She had slid into a sitting posture now, and leaned her head against
+his arm.
+
+"It doesn't matter so much about the men; they can go out into the
+world and make friends by the way, and become something more if they
+wish; but what of the single women, who have to work for their living,
+and have nothing much to look forward to but a sort of terror as to
+what will become of them when they can work no more?  If you could see
+some of them at the office, with that drawn, dried-up, joyless look,
+scraping and saving and starving for dread of the years ahead: it's so
+unfair, so grossly, hideously, cruelly unfair."
+
+"It perhaps won't be when you see all round it, chum.  It is so obvious
+we only see one side of things here.  When we see the other side it
+will all look so different."
+
+"Perhaps, but in the meantime they are here, now, in our very midst,
+all _these unwanted_ women.  If you saw as much of them as I do, I
+think you would feel even the letter had better not have been supplied.
+ A blank would have meant so much less suffering.  A penniless woman
+without attractiveness, and with neither husband, child, nor father
+wanting her, is such an anomaly.  She just drags on, hating her
+loneliness, dreading and fearing the future or illness, merely existing
+because she is called upon to do so for no apparent reason."
+
+"But she can always make friends, chum.  If she is kind and cheerful
+and hopeful she will soon win love of some sort."
+
+"If... yes...  but, Basil, to be all that, when one is weighed down
+with the inequality of chance and a horror of the future calls for a
+heroine; and Life didn't bother to make many of them heroines.  She
+doesn't seem to have paid much attention to them at all.  Orphans and
+widows and sick people she remembers; but the lonely, ageing, hardened,
+unwanted spinster!  It sometimes seems to me it is just sentimentality
+to be persuaded everything is all right.
+
+"I don't believe it is all right.  There's too much useless, silent
+aching, and useless, passionate resentment over circumstances that it
+seems should either never have been, or should be remedied if any
+Guiding Hand has power.    I have determination and I'm strong, Basil;
+the future doesn't frighten me badly yet, but when you are gone, I feel
+as if the loneliness might half kill me, and as if then I ought to have
+the right to become a blank if I wish, since I was never consulted
+about becoming a letter in the great alphabet."
+
+He did not seek to stay her, knowing with his deep insight that to get
+such thoughts spoken was better than to brood inwardly; and because of
+his unshakable faith in her courage, he was not alarmed by them.
+
+Yet he could not offer any comfort.  Had not the enigma of useless pain
+racked and torn his soul piteously through the long years of his
+illness, leaving him indeed with a wonderful courage, but not with a
+theory that would fit the needs of suffering mankind?  He could bear
+his own ills, because he had trained and taught himself to take them as
+a soldier takes the miseries of a hard campaign; but the general sum of
+suffering was another matter; and he shrank from saying either that
+suffering was sent by God to do good, or that it was necessary to the
+human race.
+
+All he knew was simply that ills bravely borne seemed aided by some
+mysterious power outside their bearers; whereas the craven and the
+grumbler seemed but to add to their own burden.  For the rest, though
+he would not say it for the pain it gave her, the knowledge of his
+growing weakness was already a solace to him, and he watched with
+hidden eagerness for the day that should set him free.  At least a
+corpse was no drain upon the slender purse of a beloved sister; and the
+gnawing ache of his helplessness and uselessness would be stilled for
+ever.
+
+If only Dudley had cared for her?  From his vantage-ground of the
+looker-on, with his unnaturally sharpened sensitiveness, he knew
+perfectly how matters stood and how hopeless the desire seemed.
+
+Dear old Dudlye, his life-long friend, would probably marry Doris and
+learn his mistake too late; and Ethel, with her fine nature, would go
+to some one else.
+
+Well, one could not change either one's own little circle of fate, or
+the universe, just to suit oneself; one could only hope for the best,
+while there was still room for hope, and cultivate that soldier-spirit,
+undaunted even in a losing fight.
+
+In the meantime there was the lonely, unwanted spinster opposite, with
+her immediate claim of nearness and loneness; and, as if to direct her
+thoughts into another channel, he said:
+
+"You know, chum, I believe G was quite serious about wanting to come in
+here sometimes.  Why not find out which afternoons she comes home
+early, and let her come and get tea and have it with me here.  Then
+Doris need not worry about getting back in time."
+
+"But if you are feeling weak it will tire you so, Basil, to have a
+stranger.  You will feel obliged to talk to her."
+
+"No, I don't think I shall; and it would be nice to feel she was rather
+glad not to be a blank after all.  Let her come one afternoon and try.
+Perhaps one way of grappling with the problem of human suffering - the
+best way - is to try and alleviate the atom of pain that is nearest
+each one of us."
+
+She assented to please him, and then kissed his forehead with a
+lingering, adoring tenderness, marvelling that such a sufferer could so
+think for others.  Then she went quietly to bed, feeling, as the gaunt
+spinster had tried to put it, "If _you_ can bear your ills so, surely I
+might manage to bear mine more courageously."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+The next evening Ethel crossed the little landing to the lonely flat,
+and gave the invitation from F to G.
+
+A good deal to her amusement, she found the gaunt spinster knitting
+babies' socks, with a basket containing several completed pairs beside
+her.  She picked a pair up, and said with a kind little smile:
+
+"I hardly expected to find you doing this."
+
+"Of course not," in a short way, that sounded uncivil without being so.
+ "It's an occupation about as much suited to me as teaching music."
+
+"I wonder why you do it?"
+
+"I do it for bread, naturally.  They bring in a few shillings.  It is
+just a fluke that I can make them at all.  I know as much about a
+needle ordinarily as a flying-machine; but I learnt to knit once under
+protest.
+I sprained my ankle and was laid up for some weeks, and I told the
+doctor I should go stark, staring mad if he kept me shut up in a house
+doing nothing.  He said knitting was a very good preventive to madness,
+and he'd send his wife along.  She was a great missionary worker, and
+she pounced on me like a hawk, and started me off knitting socks for
+little gutta-percha babies somewhere in the Antipodes, almost before I
+knew where I was.
+Such insanity!... as if white babies wanted to be bothered with socks,
+much less black ones!  I told the doctor it was adding insult to injury
+to allow it to appear I hadn't more common sense than to occupy my time
+with garments for the heathen.  As if there weren't too many garments
+in the world already, half the community over-dressed, and ready to
+sell its soul for more.
+'Leave them clean and healthy and naked, that's my advice, doctor,' I
+told him; 'and if you weren't afraid of you wife you'd agree.'"
+
+Ethel leaned against the table, enjoying the rugged face and comically
+twisted mouth.
+
+"But I thought you were a clergyman's daughter?" she said.
+
+"So I am; but I don't see why I shouldn't be credited with a little
+common sense even then.  I know they haven't much as a rule; what with
+their sewing-classes, and praying-classes, and mothers' meetings
+smothering up their minds till they can't see beyond their noses.  I
+never had much to do with that part of it.  They didn't like me well
+enough in the village to want to pray with me nor sew with me; which
+was just as well, for if I'd prayed, I should have implored the
+Almighthy to open their minds a little, and widen their views, and give
+them each a good thick slab of devilry to counteract their general
+soppiness and short-sighted stupidity.
+Ugh!...  to hear some of those soppy folks praying to be delivered from
+the Evil One, and to have strength given them to cast the devil from
+their hearts!  Just as if the devil had time to bother with that
+sanctimonious, chicken-hearted crew.  He wasn't very likely to do them
+the compliment of acknowledging their existence."
+
+"Did no one do any parish work then?"
+
+"Oh, yes, the doctor's wife did most of it.  And when a new doctor came
+they daren't for the life of them have a word to say to him, for fear
+of the next prayer-meeting, when she would preside.  You see, she'd
+pray for the lost sheep in the fold for about half an hour, and how he
+went to the wolf for healing, which was the new doctor - instead of the
+saviour, which was her husband, the old one, and drew lurid pictures of
+the fiery poisons and deadly draughts the wolf gave the poor sheep to
+kill him instead of cure him."
+
+"And what became of the new doctor?"
+
+"Oh, of course he had to go - which was a pity, as he was the first
+person with a sense of humour who ever entered that village as a
+resident.  One could positively talk sense to him, without being
+regarded as a lunatic.  As a rule, you had to feign imbecility there if
+you didn't want to be considered mad.
+I had just made up my mind to learn to knit men's ties, instead of
+babies' socks, when he departed" - and she looked at Ethel with a
+grimness, and at the same time a lurking humour, that made it quite
+impossible for Ethel to keep her face.
+
+"And did you change your mind then?" seeing the gaunt spinster was not
+in the least annoyed at her for laughing.
+
+"Yes; I stuck to the babies' socks.  I thought on the whole it was less
+incongruous for a woman with a face like mine to work for a baby than a
+man.
+And that's the nearest I ever got to a love affair.  Just to wonder if
+I'd knit a man a tie, and change my mind, and knit socks for a little
+black heathen whelp instead."
+
+"O dear!" said Ethel, with a little smothered gasp, "you don't mind if
+I laugh, do you?  You really are very amusing."
+
+"Amusing!..." with a little humorous snort.  "Well, I don't mind
+amusing you; but I do think it's about the most monstrous thing in the
+way of a practical joke I know, for Nature to create a creature like
+me, with a natural inclination to want a mate.  Just as if any man
+could bear to get up every morning of his life and see me there."
+
+"Nonsense," Ethel exclaimed.  "Basil thinks you are very attractive."
+
+"Does he?" drily.  Then, with a sudden, swift humour, "Perhaps it's a
+pity I didn't learn to knit ties after all!"
+
+"Tell him about why you didn't instead - and abouth the village and the
+doctor's wife.  He'll be so interested.  You will be a positive godsend
+to him.  May I tell him to expect you to tea to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes.  Tell him, to add to the humour of the situation, I'll bring
+across a baby's sock to knit.  We're both so likely to have a mutual
+interest in babies."
+
+Ethel kept Basil entertained most of the evening with the account of
+her interview, rather to the annoyance of Doris, who, for some vague
+reason, was not at all pleased about the new acquaintance.
+
+Perhaps it was because, on one or two occasions when she had remained
+out later than she should, she had met the music-teacher and
+encountered a fierce and disapproving glare.  Doris was quite willing
+to be relieved of her charge occasionally, but she did not at all
+appreciate the idea of a strong-minded individual, who would certainly
+not hesitate not only to condemn her selfishness, but to look her scorn
+of it.
+
+On the evening of Dudley's visit, when she first found the gaunt
+spinster at the flat, she had gone to bed feeling out of sorts with
+herself and all the world.
+
+She hated having been caught in her selfish forgetfulness; she hated
+the idea of the opposite tenant coming in to help Ethel; she hated
+being Doris Hayward and living in a stuffy Holloway flat.  It caused
+her to turn her thoughts more seriously to a way of escape, and, as a
+natural sequence, to how much Dudley's attentions might mean.
+
+And further, if they were meant in earnest, how she would feel about
+marrying him.  She made no pretence to herself of loving him;
+personally, she thought love mostly sentimental nonsense; but she liked
+being with him, and she liked going about with him.
+
+On the other hand, he was not rich, and she hated poverty.  If she
+waited a little longer, a richer man might turn up?...  or, again, he
+might not, and Dudley might change his mind.  Certainly it was very
+awkward to know which was the wisest course, but in the meantime it
+would be just as well to keep Dudley attracted.
+
+To this end she gave her hair an extra curl on Saturday evening, and
+arose betimes on Sunday morning for further preparations.  Ethel took a
+bow off her hat, ironed, and remade it, and finally put the finishing
+touches to her appearance.
+
+"You look very nice," she said.  "I hope you'll have a splendid day.
+Rund and show yourself to Basil."
+
+Basil told her she would certainly be the belle of the luncheon party,
+and finally she departed feeling very pleased with herself.
+
+Dudley was waiting for her at Paddington, and his eyes showed plainly
+that he echoed Basil's opinion, though he did not actually express it
+in words.
+
+"How did you leave Basil?" he asked.  "I wish I felt happier about him."
+
+"He is much brighter altogether.  I really think Ethel might have come,
+as the tenant of the opposite flat would have been only too pleased to
+go and sit with him.  She never seems to have any pleasure, does she?
+But it is really her own fault.  I would have stayed at home to-day if
+she would have let me."
+
+"I think I'm rather glad she wouldn't; though I am sorry she could not
+have had the treat as well.  We are going to have a lovely day, in
+spite of its being so late in the year."
+
+As it was only a small birthday luncheon, and the others of the party
+had either gone overnight or lived near, they were easily able to get a
+compartment to themselves, and Dudley was conscious of a pleasurable
+quickening of his pulses at the prospect of the long t�te-�-t�te.
+
+And indeed it was not surprising, for Doris looked adorably pretty and
+winsome, and many a wiser man might have shared his pleased
+anticipation.  Moreover, Doris was not in the least stupid or vapid,
+however selfish and shallow her nature; and if she chose she could be a
+very pleasant companion.
+
+And to-day she did so choose, hovering still in indecision over the
+subject that had filled her thoughts often of late.
+
+Finally, it chanced that during much of the day they were thrown
+together, and all the  time she thought how nice it was to be of so
+much consequence to any one; while he enjoyed again the sense of her
+clinging, engaging dependence.
+
+And when they were once more alone in a commpartment, steaming back to
+town, it was not in the least surprising that, almost before he knew
+it, Dudley was pouring into her ears a tale of love.
+
+True, it was a very calm and collected tale, but it was none the less
+genuine for that; and from the bottom of his heart he believed that
+she, above all women, was the one he desired as his wife.  Transports
+of any description were foreign to his nature.  He imagined they always
+would be.
+
+Joyous excitement and enthusiasm he left to Hal, except such enthusiasm
+as he kept for old ruins and ancient architecture.  Still, it warmed
+all his blood and quickened all his pulses to have his way at last, and
+hold Doris in his arms, and try to kiss away the unshed tears and the
+little droop from her lips.
+
+He took her home from the station, but did not go in because of the
+lateness of the hour, and the probability that Basil was just getting
+off to sleep; only kissing her again with a certain old-fashioned,
+deferential air and promising to come in the course of a day or two to
+see Ethel and Basil.
+
+Doris let herself in with somewhat mixed feelings.
+
+She had had a delightful day and thoroughly enjoyed it, but, now that
+the die was cast, and the difficult point settled, she found herself
+beginning to be more critical of Dudley.
+
+She wished he were not quite so old-fashioned, nor so good.  She was a
+little afraid she would find his sterling qualities distinctly boring,
+and his high standard a difficult and tiresome one to bother with.
+
+And then, of course, there was Hal.  Hal never had liked her and
+probably never would.  Not that it mattered very much.  In fact, it was
+rather pleasant than otherwise to think of Hal's discomfiture and
+dismay, Doris wondered if she would expect to live with them, and made
+up her mind then and there, very decisively, that she would never agree
+to anything of the kind.
+
+She had suffered quite enough from Ethel's superiority, without
+encountering a second edition in Hal.  As she thought of it, and of how
+she would checkmate Hal's possible plans to make her home with them,
+she smiled to herself a little cruelly in the darkness.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+It was Hal also who filled Dudley's thoughts as he made his way
+homeward.  In her attitude to his engagement he was afraid she was
+going to personate what is known as a 'though nut to crack."  He
+wondered if she would be waiting up for him, and what in the world she
+would say when he told her.
+
+As it happened, she was waiting, sitting over the remains of a little
+fire she had lighted for company.  The reason she felt the need of
+company, and the reason she was waiting, was the fact of a perturbed
+frame of mind she was endeavouring to soothe, until he came in to give
+the final touch.
+
+She was perturbed because of the change in Sir Edwin Crathie, and the
+closing scene of a somewhat eventful day.  Until tea-time he had been
+as gay and lighthearted and inconsequent as ever.
+
+Their lunch in the New Forest had been an immense success, and both had
+enjoyed it thoroughly.  On their way home they further enjoyed a big
+tea at an hotel.
+
+Moreover, the drive had been delightful.  The glory of the autumn
+tints; the delicious stillness of the autumn weather, and the sunny
+coolness of the atmosphere had all contributed to make the day perfect.
+ After her long hours of office work and monotony, Hal was only the
+better tuned to enjoy it, and as she leant back in blissful ease in the
+luxurious motor, she thought what a goose she would have been to let
+prudish thoughts influence her to forgo it.
+
+Then, once more, after tea, he had deliberately moved his chair nearer
+to hers, and struck a personal note that she found it difficult to
+combat.
+
+"Do you know," he told her blandly, "you're the dearest litte woman
+I've met for a long time?  I don't know when I've enjoyed a whole day
+with any one so much as this."
+
+"It's just the novelty," she said, adopting a note of unconcern to head
+him off; "most of your friends flatter and try to please you.  It
+amuses me more to contradict you; that's all."
+
+"Oh, that's all, is it!  Well, I dare say if I found a special joy in
+being contradicted, I could easily humour the fancy without going for a
+whole day into the country."
+
+"Ver likely - only, since you wanted your day in the country, you kill
+two birds with one stone, don't you see?"
+
+"And supposing I badly wanted something else from you besides
+contradiction!... a little affection, for instance!"
+
+"Oh, I'm giving you a lot of that thrown in," gaily, but she pushed her
+chair a little farther away; "if I didn't rather like you I shouldn't
+bother to contradict you."
+
+"Rather like me!... that's very cold - I, a great deal more than
+_rather_ like you."
+
+"That, of course, is different," with a jaunty air, that made them both
+laugh.
+
+"Still, I don't think we can stop a 'rather liking', now - do you?"
+
+"I don't see why we shouldn't; we are getting on very nicely."
+
+He got up suddenly, and walked away to the window.  In his heart of
+hearts he was a little nonplussed.  Of course they couldn't stop where
+they were, he argued; but how, with a girl of Hal's practical
+level-headedness get any farther?
+
+Then he remembered he was a firm believer in swift and sudden measures,
+and usually found they fitted all contingencies.  So he swung round,
+crossed the room, put his hand on her shoulders, and boldly kissed her.
+
+"There," he said - "that is how I 'rather like' you."
+
+Hal was quite taken aback - almost too taken aback to speak; but a red
+spot burned in each cheek, and a sudden flash seemed to gleam angrily
+in her eyes.  Her quick brain, however, took in the position instantly.
+ If she grew indignant and melodramatic, he would merely laugh at her.
+
+Of course he knew she must be perfectly aware that men often kissed a
+girl who stood to them  in her position, without thinking much of it.
+To make a fuss would be rather absurd.  On the other hand, of course,
+he had to be disillusioned concerning what he apparently supposed would
+be her feelings on the subject.
+
+"I call that bad taste," she said coolly.  "You might have given me a
+sporting chance to let you know beforehand I should object."  He looked
+about to repeat the action, but she edged away from him.  "Of course I
+know lots of girls don't mind, but that's nothing to do with you and
+me.  I do."
+
+"Why do you mind?"  He felt rather small before the directness of her
+eyes, and tried to bluster himself on to his former level.  "It's very
+silly of you, especially nowadays.  There's no harm in a kiss, is
+there?"
+
+"None that I know of, but I think we were getting on very nicely
+without it.  We won't risk spoiling things.  Come along, I'm longing to
+be off"; and she moved towards the door.
+
+"Are you angry with me?" he asked.
+
+"Yes; very; but if you'll promise not to do it again I'll try to
+forget.  If you transgress further, we shall just have to leave off
+being friends - that's all."
+
+He took his seat in the motor beside her in silence, and Peter whizzed
+them away at a good speed.
+
+Hal, enjoying the motion, kept her face averted, and drank in the
+lovely, fresh country air.
+
+Presently a hand stole firmly over hers.
+
+"You're not to be angry with me any more, little woman.  I'm afraid I
+was rather a cad, but you've got such a fascinating mouth.  I'm sorry."
+
+She looked frankly into his eyes.
+
+"Well, don't do it again, then."
+
+He tried to look no less frankly back, but it was as if some forbidden
+thought flashed across his mind.
+
+"I'll try not," he said, a trifle lamely, and looked away.
+
+He still kept possession of her hand, however, until she resolutely
+drew it from him.
+
+"Will Brother Dudley be in?" he asked, when they drew up in Bloomsbury.
+
+"No; he won't get bakc much before nine."
+
+He took her latch-key from her, and opened the door, entering himself,
+instead of taking her proffered hand.
+
+"Which way?" he asked, and she opened the door into their sitting-room.
+
+"I'll show you Brother Dudley's photograph now you're here," she said
+in a frank voice - "and the very latest of Lorraine Vivian.  I wish I
+had one of Apollo; but I've never asked for one, because I always make
+a point of pretending not to admire him."
+
+"It's only pretence, then?" he asked, glancing at the others as if his
+thoughts were elsewhere.
+
+"It can only be.  One is bound to admire him at heart.  Nature seldom
+made a fairer gentleman, and it would be mere perversity to deny it,
+except, as I do, for his good."
+
+Then suddenly she saw he was scarcely listening to her, and looking at
+the photographs without seeing them, and instinctively she moved away,
+feeling a little at loss.  The next moment he had caught her shoulders,
+and kissed her again.
+
+"I said I'd try, and so I have, but it's no use.  Little woman, don't
+be prudish; kiss me back again."
+
+But she pushed him away, and in the firelight he saw she was very white
+and determined.
+
+"I asked you not to.  It is much worse taste still now."
+
+"No, it isn't - don't be silly.  Why shouldn't I kiss you? I... I...
+have got awfully fond of you, and I know you like me somewhere down in
+your heart."
+
+"I shall cease to do so from this moment."
+
+"I dare you to.  Hal, if you like me, why not take the sweets that
+offer?  I'll be bound you've never been kissed in your life as I will
+kiss you.  Don't be prudish.  Let me teach you."
+
+She seemed to hesitate a second, in indecision as to what was her best
+course to withstand him, and, seizing the opportunity, he suddenly
+caught her in his arms and kissed her on the lips with swift, eager
+kisses.  Then, not giving her time to speak her resentment, he snatched
+up his hat and moved to the door.
+
+"Don't be angry," he said.  "I did try, honour bright, but it's no use;
+good-bye.  I must see you again soon";  and he went out, closing the
+door behind him.
+
+For some minutes Hal stood quite still, feeling a little dazed.  She
+saw him cross the pavement, give some directions to Peter, and then
+drive away without a backward glance.  She stood still a little longer,
+then slowly took off her hat, threw it on the sofa, ran her fingers
+through her hair and sat down.
+
+After a little, the emptiness of the room seemed to oppress her, for
+though it was not cold, she jumped up and put a match to the fire.
+Then the landlady came in with her supper.
+
+"'Ad a nice day, miss?" she asked pleasantly.
+
+"Very nice.  How's Johnnie?  Did you get to see him?"  alluding to a
+small son boarded out at Highgate for his health.
+
+"Yes; I went up to tea with 'im.  'E looks years better already."
+
+"I'm very glad."
+
+Hal sat down to her supper with a preoccupied air, and instead of
+having a little chat, she relapsed into silence, and the landlady
+departed.  She felt vaguely that something had upset entirely the even
+tenor of her mind, and she wanted to think.  Any other Sunday evening
+she would have told the landlady something about her motor-ride, for
+she and Dudley had now been in the same rooms for seven years, and it
+is quite a fallacy to condemn all London landladies as grasping,
+bad-tempered tyrants.
+
+Hal was quite fond of Mrs. Carr, and had found her unwearingly
+thoughtful and attentive.  But to-night she wanted to think, and was
+glad to be alone again, almost immediately returning to her arm chair
+over the fire.
+
+She was conscious, in a vague, uncertain way, that though Sir Edwin had
+kissed her because he cared for her, he could not have acted so had he
+cared in an upright, honest-hearted manner.  She attracted him, and he
+wanted all the pleasure he could get out of the attraction, but there,
+no doubt, it ended.
+
+For the rest, he was Sir Edwin Crathie, Cabinet Minister, and member of
+a proud, patrician family.  She was Hal Pritchard, secretary, typist,
+and occasional journalist at the office of a leading London paper.
+
+She grew restless, and commenced roaming round the room.  Her knowledge
+of life, as it is lived near its teeming, throbbing, working centre,
+warned her that the new turn of their friendship held danger.  If she
+was wise, she would shun the danger, and go back to her old life before
+he had come into it.  She would firmly and resolutely refuse to see him
+again.
+
+To do so without regret was impossible.  Now that the friendship seemed
+about to cease, she realised it had meant more than she knew.  She held
+her face in her hands, and her cheeks tingled at the memory of the last
+eager kiss.
+
+She was woman enough to know it was good to be kissed like that by a
+man who, even if his morals and principles left much to be desired, was
+still very much a man, and had won a distinction that made most women
+proud of far less attention than he had shown her.
+
+Still? -
+
+In a different sense she was struggling in a net of circumstances
+something like Lorraine's.  Lorraine wanted to do the right thing, or,
+at any rate, the sporting thing.
+
+So did Hal.
+
+In a world full of temptations, and backsliding, and much suffering
+thereby, the sporting thing for the strong woman is to stand to her
+guns.  If Hal dallied with Sir Edwin now, she felt she would be
+deserting her post.  At the judgment-bar of her own heart, which, after
+all, matters far more than the judgment-bar of public opinion, she
+would be allowing herself to compromise for the sake of the fleeting,
+dangerous pleasure.
+
+She stopped short by the window, and stared out into the gloomy,
+lamplit street.  And it crossed her mind to remember the bitter price
+so many women had paid for that dalliance and compromise, so many now
+probably gazing out with dull eyes into gloomy streets, hopeless,
+reckless, and joyless.
+
+Yes; dalliance and compromis were mistakes.  The real pluck was the
+sporting spirit that stood to its guns, even if it cost a big and
+wearisome effort.  She would not dally.  She would answer to her own
+Best, and try to go on her steadfast way.
+
+After all, she had Dudley and Lorraine.  It was good to have a brother
+all to oneself, who was incontestably a dear, in spite of a little
+priggishness and narrowness.  He would be home soon, and then they
+would have a last chat over the fire together; and that would help to
+renew her in her determination to cut the dangerous friendship adrift.
+
+She leaned back in the chair a little wearily, and waited for the
+welcome sound of his key in the latch.  She wished he would come
+quickly, because she did not quite like the way her mind kept reverting
+to those eager kisses.  The memory had the danger of making most other
+thoughts seem thin and dull; and she wondered how she was going to
+replace a friendship that had been so full of interest and enjoyment.
+
+If she had dared, she would like to have persuaded herself that he
+cared for her in the real way; and her cheeks glowed, and her heart
+thumped a little at the thought of all the real way meant.  But her
+practical side told her only too decidedly that this was not the case.
+
+Perhaps he was not the sort of man who could care in the real way at
+all.  He was too selfish, and grasping, and ambitious by nature.  That
+he was interesting and a delightful companion as well did not help
+matters.  Men were very often all these things together, but the
+selfish, ambitious, unscrupulous side usually outweighed all the rest
+in big questions that affected their whole lives.
+
+Then she remembered that many of the girls she knew - quite nice, jolly
+girls - would have taken the fun that offered, and not bothered about
+anything beyond the present.  Still, that did not affect her own
+particular case.
+
+One had to try and live up to one's own ideals, not other people's, and
+in her inmost heart she knew that she thought but poorly of the girls
+who run foolish risks for the sake of a little extra pleasure and
+gratification, just as she thought poorly of the man who amused
+himself,  trifling with a girl's affections, to pass a little time.
+
+Then came the welcome sound of Dudley's key, and she sat up and turned
+an eager face to the door to greet him.
+
+He came in quietly, and returned the greeting with his usual calm,
+undemonstrative appreciation; only, he did not look at her, nor ask her
+any questions about her day.
+
+The supper was still waiting for him, and he took a few mouthfuls, in a
+preoccupied manner, with his face turned away.  Hal asked him about the
+day's outing, wondering not a little at his manner.  He seemed anxious,
+and somewhat ill at ease, and she observed that he did not eat anything
+to speak of.
+
+At last he got up and came to her side near the fire.
+
+"Aren't you going to sit down?" she asked.  "I thought a little fire
+looked so cosy."
+
+He did not seem to hear her, for instead of replying he coughed
+nervously, cleared his throat, and said:
+
+"I've something to tell you, Hal - a piece of news."
+
+She waited, watching him with a puzzled, curious air.  Then, without
+any further preamble, he finished abruptly:
+
+"I'm - I'm - engaged to be married."
+
+Hal gave a gasp, and became suddenly taut with amazement and
+incredulity.  "You're - engaged - to - be - married!"
+
+"Yes; you're not very surprised, are you?"
+
+A sudden, awful fear seemed to envelop and clutch at her.
+
+""Who to?" she asked, a little hoarsely?
+
+"To Doris Hayward."
+
+For some reason he seemed unabel to look at her.  Vaguely he knew he
+had dealt her a blow, and that it was of a nature he could not soften.
+
+Hal stared hard at the fire, then suddenly started to her feet.
+
+"You can't mean it," she exclaimed, forgetting to be circumspect.  "You
+couldn't possibly think seriously of marrying Doris Hayward?"
+
+Instantly he stiffened.
+
+"I don't know why you speak of it in that way.  Certainly I am serious.
+ It is hardly a question I should joke about."
+
+There was a tense silence, then Hal turned to the sofa and picked up
+her hat as if she were a little dazed.  She seemed suddenly to have
+nothing to say, and she knew herself to be no good at prevarication.
+To congratulate him seemed an impossibility just yet.
+
+"Of course I know you have never cared for Doris," he said; "but
+probably you did not know her well enough.  I hope you will soon see
+you have misjudged her."
+
+"I hope so," she said lamely.  "Good-night - I - I - hadn't thought
+about your getting married.  I must get used to the idea.  I - " she
+paused in sudden, swift distress.  "Good-night; of course I hope you'll
+be happy, and all that," and she went hurriedly out, and up to her own
+room.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+When Hal reached her room she sat down on the bed in the dark, and
+stared at the dim square of the window.  She was feeling stunned, and
+as if her brain would not work properly.  It grasped the significance
+of old, familiar objects as usual, but seemed quite unable to grip and
+understand the something strange and new which had suddenly come into
+being.  She remembered she had waited for Dudley to come with soothing
+for a perturbed frame of mind, and instead, he had brought her - _this_.
+
+What could it mean?  Surely, surely, not that Doris Hayward was to rob
+her of her brother.
+
+A wave of swift and sudden loneliness seemed to envelop her.  The
+blackness of the night closed in upon her, and desolation swept across
+her soul.
+
+"If only it had been Ethel," was the vague, uncertain thought: "any one
+in the world almost but Doris."
+
+And again,
+
+"Why had Dudley been so incredibly blind to Doris's real nature?  Why
+had he of all men been caught by a pretty face?  Was it possible he
+thought his life would need no other help and comfort but that of a
+charming exterior in his wife?"
+
+How childlike he seemed again to his young sister's practical, worldly
+knowledge.  Of course he knew almost nothing of women, buried in his
+musty old architectural lore, and giving most of his brain to the
+contemplation of ancient ruins and edifices.
+
+He had looked up from his books, and Doris had smiled at him, that
+diabolically winsome, innocent smile of hers; and something in his
+heart, not quite smothered and likewise not healthily developed, had
+warmed into sudden, surprised pleasure, and straightway he thought
+himself in love.  Hal was sure of one thingn, that if Doris had not
+decided it would suit her plans to be Dudley's wife, the idea would not
+have occured to him.
+
+After all, what did he want with a wife for years to come, going along
+so contentedly and placidly with his books and his thirst for
+knowledge, and the peacefulness of their sojourn with Mrs. Carr?  No
+servant troubles, no housekeeping worries, no taxes, no gas and
+electric-light bills; everything done for them, and for company each
+other.
+
+Oh, of course, it was all Doris's doing.  She wanted to get away from
+the dingy flat and the poverty, and she had hit upon Dudley as a way
+out.
+
+Hal got up suddenly with a bursting feeling.  Of course she did not
+even love him, would not even try to change her nature to become more
+in touch with his, would not trouble in the least what obstacles stood
+between any real and deep understanding.  Perhaps she was not even
+capable of love, but in any case her affections could not have been
+given to any one as quiet, and studious, and old-fashioned as Dudley.
+
+She went to the window and threw it open that she might lean out and
+breathe the open air.  Her head burned and ached, and her eyes smarted
+with a smouldering fire in her brain.  She felt more and more how
+entirely it must have been Doris's doing.  Doris had smiled at him, and
+confided in him, and managed first to convey a pathetic picture of her
+own loneliness, and then to suggest how happy her life might be with
+him.
+
+And of course Dudley was all chivalry at heart, and trusting, and
+tender-hearted; that was one reason why he had always deplored her,
+Hal's, boyish independence and determination to fend for herself.  He
+did not understand the vigorous, enterprising, working woman.
+
+Immersed in his books and his studies, he had allowed himself to be
+influenced largely by caricatures, and by the noisy stir of the
+platform woman.  But he understood the Doris type, or thought he did,
+and placed their engaging dependence before such spirited resolution as
+her own and Ethel's.
+
+And how to help him?  How, now, to thwart the carrying out of Doris'
+cleverly carried scheme.
+
+Her first thought was Ethel and Basil.  She would go to them, and
+appeal to them to help her.
+
+And then she remembered that "blood is thicker than water."  How could
+they thwart their own sister; and in any case what would Dudley ever
+see in it but a persecution that would intensify his affection?  One
+hint that Doris was victimised, and she knew Dudley well enough to
+realise he would only marry her the more quickly, whether he had
+learned the truth or not.
+
+Opposition of any sort would probably do far more harm than good at
+present.  There was nothing for it but to meet the blow with the best
+face possible, and hope time might yet bring release.
+
+Then her thoughts went back to Sir Edwin, and quite suddenly and
+unaccountably she longed to tell him about it.  He would be interested
+for her sake, and he would cheer her up, and make her hopeful in spite
+of herself.
+
+And yet -
+
+No; to see him again, feeling as she felt now, would only mean to see
+him in a mood of weakness, that might make her less able to withstand
+him.
+
+She must rely only on Lorraine and Dick, and try to stand by her
+previous determination.  She would see Lorraine directly she left the
+office the next day, and in the meantime she would try and hide from
+Dudley the extent of her dismay.
+
+But in spite of her resolve, when she rested her head on the pillow,
+the  hot tears squeezed through her closed eyelids, and in dumb misery
+she told herself Dudley was lost to her for ever.
+
+She awoke the next morning with a dull, aching sense of misery that had
+robbed the sunshine of its warmth, and the day of its brightness; but
+as she dressed she strengthened herself in a resolve to try and hide
+her chagrin, and make some amends to Dudley for her reception of the
+news.
+
+"I suppose you felt pretty disgusted with me last night," she said at
+the breakfast-table.  "I'm sorry, but you took me so violently by
+surprise."
+
+He had taken his seat, looking grave and displeased, but his face
+relaxed as he replied:
+
+"I'm afraid I was rather sudden.  It seemed the easiest" - he
+hesitated, then added - "I hope you'll try to get on with Doris."
+
+"Of course."  Hal turned away on some slight pretext.  "I'd hate giving
+you up to any one - you know I would - we've - we've - been very happy
+together here, and - " but her voice broke suddenly.
+
+Dudley looked unhappy, but he steadied his voice and said cheerfully:
+
+"Well, it needn't be very different.  If you and Doris will get fond of
+each other, it will be the same, only better.  Of course you will live
+with us."
+
+"Oh no"; and she tried to smile lightly - "I couldn't - possibly live
+without Mrs. Carr now.  I should never be properly dressed, for one
+thing, and I should always be forgetting important engagements."  She
+changed the subject quickly, seeing he was about to remonstrate.  "Have
+you seen Ethel and Basil since - since - "
+
+"No; I'm going to see Basil this afternoon, after taking Doris to
+Wimbledon to see Langfier fly, and I shall stay to dinner.  Will you
+come up this evening?"
+
+"No; I'm going out.  Perhaps to-morrow - " she hesitated, as if
+swallowing a lump in her throat.  "You might give my love to Doris, and
+say I'll come soon."  She saw Dudley glance at her inquiringly, and
+recklessly dashed into another subject, talking at random until she
+left.
+
+In the afternoon she hurried straight off to Lorraine's flat, arriving
+a few minutes after Lorraine had come in from a walk in the Park.  She
+was standing by the window, drawing off some long gloves, and even Hal
+was struck by a sort of newness about her - a bloom and a quiet
+radiance that was like a renewal of youth.
+
+She was beautifully dressed as ever, buth with a far simpler note than
+usual - something which suggested she wished to look charming, without
+attracting attention; something which suppressed the actress in favour
+of the woman.
+
+It was as if, surrounded with success and attention night after night,
+and for several years, she had wearied of the r�le, and put it aside
+voluntarily whenever opportunity offered.  She had been wont to be
+verry fashionable and striking in her dress and general appearance, but
+now Hal noticed vaguely a simpler note all through.
+
+Her face and expression seemed to have changed also.  A certain
+hardness and callousness had gone.  Her smile was more genuine, and her
+eyes kinder.  In some mysterious way, it was as though Lorraine had won
+from the past some gleaming of the woman she might have been under
+happier circumstances, and without certain harsh experiences.
+
+And it was all owing to her feeling for Alymer Hermon and his youthful
+pride in her.
+
+They met continually now.  Her flat was open to him whenever he liked.
+He came to her when he had anything interesting to relate - when he was
+depressed and when he was hopeful.  With the inconsequent acceptance of
+youth, he took from her what an older man would have regarded a little
+shyly, and perhaps feared to take.
+
+She was his pal, his excellent friend, who gave him such sympathy and
+interest and encouragement as she could find nowhere else.  Because he
+was young, he drank deep and asked no questions.
+
+He did not imagine for a moment that she was in love with him.  True,
+other women were; but then they told him so, and alarmed him with their
+attentions.  Lorraine was more inclined to laugh at him and make fun of
+him, in a jolly, pally sort of way, which made him feel perfectly at
+home with her, and successfully banish any questions.
+
+She was more like a man friend, only better, because a man would have
+wanted an equal share of interest, whereas Lorraine seemed content to
+be interested in him.  She never encouraged him to talk about her
+triumphs and her other friends.  She rather implied they were so public
+and apparent already she did not want to hear any more of them.
+
+But she was always ready to talk of his hopes and aspirations, and help
+him to build foundations to his aircastles.  And already, under her
+tuition and help, he had made immense strides.  His work and his
+objects had become real to him, ambition had taken root and begun to
+push out little upward shoots.  He saw himself one of the leading
+lights at the Bar, and instead of lazily scoffing, he liked the
+picture.  He wanted to get there, and if Lorraine was ready to help
+him, why should she not?  Why bother to ask questions?
+
+Of course she must be fond of him, or she would not do it; but then he
+was fond of her too - very fond - and why not?  The mere suggestion of
+danger did not occur to him.  She was so many years his senior, and so
+celebrated, it never crossed his mind to suppose she could have any
+feeling for him beyond the jolly palliness that seemed to have sprung
+up naturally between them.
+
+So he came and went between the Temple and her flat and his own
+quarters, and life began to assume a bigness of possibility that
+drowned all else, and kept him eager and harworking and safe from the
+hurtful influences and actions that attend idle hours.
+
+And Lorraine, for the present, walked in her fool's paradise and was
+content.  She watched him slowly and surely fill out both physically
+and mentally into the promise of his splendid manhood.
+
+She saw his youthful beauty solidifying into the beauty of a man, and
+carefully watered and tended those budding shoots of ambition that were
+to help him attain his best promise.
+
+For the time being the thwarted mother-love that is in every woman
+satisfied her with the evidence of his progress, and she lulled any
+other into quiescence, hugging to herself the knowledge that it was she
+alone to whom he would owe greatness, if he won it, and that even his
+own doting mother had not done, and never could do, the half that she
+was doing to start him on a steadfast way that should lead to fame and
+usefulness.
+
+She made it her excuse for ignoring the questions which her wider
+knowledge could not entirely banish.  To what other results the
+friendship might lead she turned a deaf ear.  The other results must
+take care of themselves, was her thought; it was enough for her that
+she could help to make him great.
+
+She smiled  a little at the thought of the women she had won him from.
+He talked to her now freely and openly, though always with that
+unassuming modesty which was so attractive.  She knew what he had
+already had to combat.  What a life of self-pleasing and gay-living lay
+open to him if he chose to take it.  She knew that, if he chose it,
+though he might still win a certain amount of fame, it would never be
+the well-grounded, staunch, reliable success that she could spur him to.
+
+And so she drew a curtain over the dangers her course might hold, and,
+in a light and airy way, threw over him the glow and the warm
+attractiveness of her many fascinations and allurements, that she might
+keep him free from any foolish engagement or low entanglement, to
+concentrate all his mind and his heart upon his work and her.
+
+How long such an aim was likely to satisfy her, or how natural or
+unnatural her course, she left with all the other questions, to be
+faced, if necessary, later on, or to pass with the swift joy into
+oblivion.
+
+At least it was not the first time a woman, scarcely young, and having
+her full measure of success, had turned unaccountably to a man very
+much her junior, for something she apparently sought in vain from men
+of her own age.  It might be strange, but it was not unique; and for
+the rest, were not the ways of the little god Love like the ways of
+many events - "stranger than fiction"?
+
+His magnificent physique, his extraordinarily beautiful head, and his
+no less extraordinary, unassuming modesty, attracted and held her with
+links that grew stronger and stronger, and her happiest hours now were
+those in which he made himself delightfully at home in her flat, and
+added to his charm by talking to her with the old-fashioned,
+grandfatherly air she had enjoyed from the first.
+
+And so Hal found a younger and softer Lorraine than she had known for a
+long time, waiting to hear the burden of her tale of woe.
+
+They talked it over in every aspect, Hal sitting in her favourite
+attitude on a stool at Lorraine's feet; but very little light could be
+won through the clouds.  All the consolation Lorraine could suggest was
+a possibility that to be engaged and married to a man like Dudley might
+change Doris altogether for the better; but Hal, beyond feeling
+brighter for having spoken out her dismay, felt there was little indeed
+hope of that.
+
+"Have you seen Sir Edwin Crathie again?"  Lorraine asked presently, and
+she was surprised to see a spot of colour instantly flame into Hal's
+cheeks.
+
+"I've had a long motor ride with him," she said, speaking as if it were
+a mere detail.
+
+"_Have you_?" was Lorraine's very expressive rejoinder.
+
+"Why do you say it like that?"  Hal laughed with seeming lightness.
+"He just took me for a treat.  He's rather sorry for me, being boxed up
+in an office, as he calls it."
+
+"I see.  Well, don't forget he has the reputation for being rather a
+dangerous man, old girl."
+
+Hal laughed again.
+
+"I'll tell him so, and go armed with a revolver next time."  She
+noticed an inquiring look in Lorraine's eyes, and added: "Don't look so
+serious, Lorry; he is old enough to be my father.  He likes a little
+amusement, the same as you and Baby Hermon."
+
+She turned away as she spoke, and did not see the swift deepening of
+the look of inquiry, nor a certain strange expression that flitted
+across Lorraine's face; and almost immediately the door opened, and
+Alymer Hermon walked in unannounced.
+
+"Hullo, Hal!" he exclaimed - "it's quite a long time since I ran into
+you here."
+
+"Hullo, Baby!" she retorted.  "Why, I declare, you are beginning to
+look quite a man."
+
+"If you don't mind I'll pick you up and carry you all the way down the
+stairs to the street; then you'll see if I'm a man or not."
+
+"Tut; any big creature could do that!  Got any briefs yet?"
+
+"I have."
+
+Lorraine looked up instantly with an eager, questioning glance - while
+Hal asked gaily:
+
+"What is it?...  I suppose the original holder is sick, or dead, or
+something, and you are a stop-gap."
+
+"You are wrong, Miss Sharp-tongue.  I hold the brief entirely on my
+own.  It hasn't even anything to do with any one in Waltham's Chambers."
+
+And still Lorraine, with shining eyes, watched his face.
+
+"I suppose," said Hal , "the other side have got a very small man, and
+they wanted a big one to frighten him?"
+
+"Wrong again.  The other side has Pym, and he is quite six feet in
+height."
+
+"Then perhaps he looks clever, and they believe in contrasts."
+
+"I shall carry you down to the street yet," threateningly; "you are
+running grave risks."
+
+"So is the poor man trusting his defence to you."
+
+"It happens to be a lady."
+
+Hal clapped in her hands.
+
+"Of course," she cried; "now we are getting at it.  The lady chose you
+because she thought your wig and gown becoming.  How many interviews
+shall you be having with her?"
+
+"I couldn't say, but we had one this afternoon."
+
+"And was she very charming?  Did she call you Baby?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and turned to Lorraine.
+
+"I only waste my substance trying to cope with any one as obtuse as
+Hal.  Is she going to stay to dinner?"
+
+"I'm afraid so," smilingly.
+
+He took up his stand on the rug, with his back to the fire and looked
+down at Hal on her footstool.
+
+"It's a pity about the obtuseness," he commented, "because she is
+really rather nice to look at.  She has improved so much lately."
+
+"Oh no, I haven't," tilting her nose in the air.  "I am exactly the
+same; but you have acquired better taste.  Is _he_ going to stay to
+dinner, Lorraine?""
+"I'm afraid so.  You will have to call a truce, because I want to hear
+all about the brief; and I shall hear nothing if you persist in
+wrangling."
+
+"It isn't my fault," he said.  "I always try to be friends."
+
+"Well, as far as that goes, I always _try_ to like you," Hal retorted
+with a laugh.
+
+"You would find it much easier if you did not hurl insults at me.
+Begin another plan altogether."
+
+"Come along to dinner," put in Lorraine, rising, "and let us hear about
+this brief."
+
+She led the way to the dining-room, and they had a merry little meal,
+arranging all about the congratulatory dinner Lorraine proposed to give
+for Alymer to celebrate the important occasion of his first brief.
+
+Afterwards Hal drove to the theatre with her, and stayed a short time
+in her room while, as Lorraine phrased it, she put on her war-paint.
+
+Then she went rather sadly home alone, feeling lost and unhappy about
+Dudley.  It crossed her mind once that Lorraine and Alymer Hermon
+seemed be on very much more familiar terms than previously, but she
+paid little heed to the thought, merely supposing that it amused
+Lorraine to help him in his profession.
+
+She sat over the fire and tried to read, but presently the book went
+down into her lap, and her eyes sought the cheery flicker of the
+flames.  Only there was no answering glow in her usually bright face,
+rather a sad uneasiness and perplexity, as if circumstances she hardly
+knew how to cope with were closing in upon her.
+
+She felt she had come to a difficult path in life she would have to
+face alone; for in her friendship with Sir Edwin Crathie neither Dudley
+nor Lorraine could help her.
+
+And, gazing into the fire with serious, thoughtful eyes, it was neither
+Dudley and Doris, nor Lorraine and Alymer who finally held her
+thoughts, but sir Edwin Crathie himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+The first time Sir Edwin rang up the newspaper office after the
+memorable Sunday it happened that Hal had gone into the country to
+report an opening ceremony, graced by Royalty, so she was saved the
+necessity of framing a reply.
+
+One of the usual reporters being ill, the news editor had asked her if
+she would like to take his place, and she had eagerly accepted the
+chance.  It meant a day in the country, travelling by special train,
+and the writing of the report did not worry her at all, as she had
+already served her apprenticeship to journalism, and knew how to seize
+on the most interesting points and condense them into a small space.
+
+She had a genius for making friends also, and after an excellent
+champagne lunch, and a cup of tea captured for her by a pleasant-faced
+man whom she afterwards discovered to be the Earl of Roxley, she
+motored back to the railway station with a well-known aeronaut, who
+promised to take her for a "fly" some day.  They travelled up to town
+in the same compartment, and as Hal had to have her article ready for
+press when she reached the office, it was necessary to write it in the
+train.
+
+The "flying man" wished to turn his hand to journalism too, and
+attempted to help her, without much success, though with a good deal of
+entertainment for himself.  He was specially amused at her
+determination to lay considerable stress on the fact that one of the
+horses in the royal carriage fell down between the station and the park.
+
+"What's the good of putting that in?" he argued; "it is of no
+importance."
+
+"Why, it's almost the most important thing of all," she declared.  "You
+evidently don't know much about journalism.  The Public will not be
+half as interested in the King's speech as in the information that one
+of the horses fell down, and that the King then put his hands on the
+Queen's, and told her not to be frightened."
+
+"But he didn't; and the horse only slipped."
+
+"But you're too dense!" she cried, "and, anyhow, you can't be certain
+that he didn't.  It's what he ought to have done, and the British
+Public will be awfully pleased to know that he did.  They'll be
+frightfully interested in the horse falling down, too.  I suppose you
+would leave it out, and give dated of the building of the edifice, and
+the different styles of architecture, and the names of illustrious
+people connected with it.  As if any one wanted to know that!  The
+horse will make far better reading, though I daresay I ought to work in
+a few costs of things.  The B.P. loves to know what a thing costs."
+
+"Well, why not value the horse, as you think so much of it? or say that
+it snapped a trace in half which cost two guineas, and was bought in
+Bond Street?"
+
+They both laughed, and then Hal said seriously:
+
+"I think I'll make it kick over the centre pole, only then perhaps some
+of the other reporters will catch it for not having seen the kick also.
+ I once wrote an account of a garden party, and left out that the
+horses of the Prime Minister's carriage shied and swerved, and one
+wheel caught against the gate-post.  As a matter of fact, it did not do
+much more than graze it, but some journalist wrote a thrilling account
+of how the carriage nearly turned over; and I've never forgotten the
+chief's face when he asked me why I hadn't mentioned the accident to
+the Prime Minister's carriage.  I said there wasn't an accident, and he
+snapped: 'Well you'd better have turned them all in a heap in the road
+than left it out altogether!'
+
+"I've never made the same mistake since," she finished, "and now, if
+the chief sees my paragraphs, he has to ring some one up occasionally,
+and make sure I haven't gone out of bounds altogether."
+
+"Well, if you're quite determined to lie... I mean romance... why not
+do it thouroughly?  Let the King leap out of the carriage, with the
+Queen in his arms, and the royal coachman fall backwards off the box -
+and - and - both the horses burst out laughing?"
+
+"I'd get the sack for that," Hal spluttered, busily plying her pencil,
+"and then I'd break my heart, because I'm in love with the chief."
+
+"Oh" - with a low laugh, "and is it quite hopeless?"
+
+"Quite.  The most hopeless _grande passion_ that ever was.  He's been
+married twice already, and the second is still very much alive.  Did
+the Queen wear a black hat, or a dark purple one?"
+
+"Dark purple, of course, like her dress.  Why, I could write the thing
+better than you."
+
+"I'm sure you could, if you might have half the newspaper.  I don't
+know where you'd be in thirty-six lines!"
+
+"By Jove!  Have you got to squeeze it all into thirty-six lines?"
+
+"Less, if possible.  There's been a row in Berlin, and we have to allow
+for thrilling developments, which may crowd out lots of other
+paragraphs."
+
+"And supposing you want it a few lines longer?"
+
+"Then the compiler will add a bit on about the weather, or throw in
+another dress description, or something.  I'm putting you in now,"
+scribbling on; "but I don't know your name?"
+
+"And I'm not going to tell it to you for your precious paragraph, so
+you'll have to cross that bit out again."
+
+"Not at all," airily: "a well-known aeronaut, who has recently beaten
+the distance-record, and is looking remarkably well in spite of his
+advanced years, was among the distinguished guests!"
+
+He had to cry "pax" then.
+
+"I give you up," he said; "you're too much for me!  But I'll take your
+for a fly the first opportunity I get.  Will you come?"
+
+"Will I come!..." in eager tones.  "Oh, won't I?"
+
+And he promised to arrange it.
+
+When they reached Euston, Hal had to dash for the first taxi, and tear
+to the office with her report, and it was not until she was leaving
+that the call boy told her a gentleman had asked for her on the
+telephone in the afternoon.
+
+"Did he give any name?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Crathie."
+
+Hal suppressed a smile.  "I suppose you told him I was out."
+
+"Yes, miss.  He wanted to know when you would be back, and I asked Mr.
+Watson, and he told me to say 'Not before evening.'"
+
+Hal climbed to the top of a bus, and journeyed homewards with a
+thoughtful air.  Of course he would ring her up again the next day, and
+then what was she to say?
+
+In the meantime, looming big in her immediate horizon was the visit to
+be paid to Holloway that evening.  She was going up without Dudley,
+having expressed a wish to do so, with which he had willingly complied.
+ She felt it would be easier not to appear forced without him, and
+would be fairer on Doris also.  Yet she dreaded the visit very much,
+and longed that it was over.
+
+Ethel opened the door to her, as she happened to be in the little
+kitchen close beside it, and Hal thought she looked very ill as she
+grasped her hand with warm friendliness, saying:
+
+"How nice of you to come and see Doris so soon."
+
+"What are you doing in the kitchen?" said Hal.  "I want to come and
+help."
+
+"I'm only making a salad, and shall not be long.  You must go to the
+parlour"; and she laughed at the quaint, old-fashioned word.
+
+"No, I'm coming to help," and Hal walked past her, through the  open
+door.  "How's Basil?  Dudley spoke as if he was not quite so well just
+now."
+
+"I'm afraid he isn't," with sudden, hardly veiled anxiety; "but it may
+only be the foggy weather."
+
+To any one else Ethel would probably have asserted that he was well as
+usual, and changed the subject; but she liked Hal specially, and showed
+it by being quite honest with her.  She also knew perfectly well that
+Dudley's engagement must have been a great shock to his only sister,
+not solely because she had nothing whatever in common with Doris, but
+because she herself must love him; and her heart felt very tender and
+friendly over her.
+
+Although Hal had come to see Doris, she did not refrain from following
+her inclination, and seating herself on the kitchen table to chat to
+Ethel while she made the salad.  Doris would keep, was her rapid mental
+conclusion, and they two might not get another chance of a few words
+alone.
+
+Chatting thus, it was interesting to note the similarity that existed
+between these wielders of the pen, each daily immersed in a City office.
+
+Each had the same clear, frank eyes, the same independent poise of
+head, the same air of capable energy and self-dependence.  Each, too,
+had the same rather colourless skin, from lack of fresh air, though
+whereas Ethel looked tired and worn, Hal seemed strong and fresh and
+wore no air of delicacy.
+
+Then Doris came, with her pink-and-white daintiness, and spoke to them
+both with a little triumphant air of condescension; for was not she
+engaged to be married, whereas clever, working women usually became
+"old maids"?
+
+Hal tried not to seem too offhand, but it was quite impossible for her
+to gush, and she could not pretend a sudden affection just because of
+the engagement.  So she just said something about Dudley being very
+happy, and hoped they would have good luck, and then went to the
+sitting-room to talk to Basil, entertaining him immensely with her
+account of the day's ceremony, and her haphazard friendship with the
+"flying man", who was going to take her in his aeroplane.
+
+"Who was he?" Basil asked.  "Has he won any prizes?"
+
+"I don't know.  He dit not tell me.  I did not discover his name
+either, but he was some relation of the 'Lord-of-the-Manor' person who
+received the King."
+
+"You don't know his name?" asked Doris in a shocked voice.  "Weren't
+you introduced?"
+
+"Never a bit of it," laughed Hal.  "I was left behind when the last fly
+had gone to the station, and he heard me asking anxiously how soon one
+would get back again, and immediately offered me a seat in the motor he
+was going in.  Another man was with him, a much be-medalled officer,
+who was somewhat heavy in hand to talk to, and at the station we gave
+him the slip."
+
+"How can he take you for a fly if you don't know who he is?"
+
+"Well, I dare say he won't; quite likely he didn't mean it; but if he
+did, he can easily find me at the office.  He knew my name, and what
+paper I was there for.  They bot knew, which probably accounts for the
+gentleman with the medals being somewhat ponderous - soldiers are
+usually snobbish - and he may not have liked having to ride to the
+station with a newspaper woman."
+
+"But if the other man was the Lord of the Manor's brother?"
+
+"Oh, that wouldn't make any difference.  He might very well be less
+self-important than anything in a bit of scarlet and medals if he had
+been the Lord of the Manor himself.  Why, the Earl of Roxley got tea
+for me, and was most attentive."
+
+Doris's eyes opened wider.  She had always secretly entertained rather
+a superior attitude towards Hal and her sister, and was glad she was
+not an office clerk.  The big, breezy, working world, where the
+individual is taken on his or her merits apart from birth, or standing,
+or occupation, was quite unknown to her; and that Hal's original,
+attractive personality might open doors for ever shut to her mediocre,
+pretty young-ladyhood, would never enter her mind.
+
+"I don't think I should care to talk to any one without being
+introduced," she remarked a little affectedly, to which Hal shrugged
+her shoulders and commented:
+
+"It's just as well you haven't to knock about in the world, then.  Any
+one with an ounce of common sense and perspicacity knows when it is
+safe, and when it is sheer folly."
+
+Basil watched her with an amused air.
+
+"I'm sure you do," he said.
+
+"Yes."  She smiled infectiously.  "I've only once been spoken to
+unpleasantly in London, after knocking about for seven years, and then
+I offered the man a sixpence.  I said: 'I'm sorry I haven't any more,
+and I can't spare that, but if you are hungry!...'  He looked as if he
+would like to slay me, and vanished."
+
+Doris still looked slightly disapproving, and when at last Hal rose to
+go, she half-unconsciously asked Ethel with her eyes to accompany her
+to get her hat, instead of her prospective sister-in-law.  And when
+they were alone, Ethel looked into Hal's expressive face, and guessing
+something of what she carefully hid, said sympathetically:
+
+"You and Dudley have always been so much to each other; I am afraid you
+must feel it a little having to share him already with another."
+
+Suddenly and inexplicably Hal's eyes filled with tears, and she turned
+away quite unable to answer.
+
+Ethel pretended not to notice, but her heart bled for her, knowing how
+much worse it was than just the fact of the engagement.
+
+"I'm so wrapped up in Basil," she went on, "that if it had happened to
+me I should have felt quite heartbroken, however much I told myself I
+wanted his happiness."
+
+Hal dabbed her eyes a little viciously.
+
+"Of course I want him to be happy," she managed to say; "but it is nice
+of you to understand."
+
+"There's one thing," Ethel continued, "you will become a sort of
+relation, and you've no idea how pleased Basil and I will be about
+that."
+
+"Will you?" Hal smiled through her tears, "I rather wonder at it."
+
+"Of course we shall.  Basil and I think you are one of the finest
+characters we have ever known.  You've no idea how proud we are when
+you come to see us," which proved Ethel's understanding heart, for a
+little generous praise is a kind healer to a sore spirit.
+
+Hal looked into her eyes, with a pleased light in her own.
+
+"You are too generous, but it's nice to be thought well of by any one
+like you and Basil.  I shall remember it when I am silly enough to be
+downhearted, and it will cheer me up."
+
+She had to hurry away then to catch a train, and as she went her mind
+was full of the thought:
+
+"Why, oh why, had Dudley, in his blindness, wooed the younger sister?"
+
+"Well?" he said, as she entered their sitting-room, where he was
+reading over the fire.  "How did you get on?"
+
+"Oh, splendidly" - trying to throw a little enthusiasm into her voice.
+"Doris looked amazingly pretty."
+
+She show a soft light in his eyes, and because it rather maddened her,
+she hastened to add: "But I see a great change in Basil."
+
+"Yes?...  I wondered if you would.  I was afraid he did not seem so
+well."
+
+"Dudley" - with sudden seriousness - "when Basil dies, it will just
+about break Ethel up.  She idolises him."
+
+"I know; but she can hardly wish him to live on if he continues to grow
+worse."
+
+"I suppose not; but it's rather awful to think of what it will mean to
+her to lose him.  And she's so sympathetic and tender-hearted."  Hal
+stood a moment looking gravely at the fire - "you know, I think she's
+the most splendid person I've ever known."
+
+"Splendid!... " a trifle testily.  "Why?  Splendid seems an odd word to
+use."
+
+"It's the one that suits Ethel Hayward best of all.  Anything else
+would be too commonplace.  When I think what her life is - the endless
+struggle to make both ends meet - work morning, noon, and night - and
+on the top of it all the brother she adores a helpless, suffering
+invalid, it quite overawes me.  If she were bitter and complaining it
+would be different, but she is nearly always cheerful and hopeful and
+ready to think of some one else's troubles.  And yet she isn't
+goody-goody - nor what one describes as "worthy'; she's just human
+through and through."
+
+"She sometimes seems to me a little severe," he said.
+
+"Severe!... Oh, Dudley, she is the kindest soul alive."
+
+"Perhaps she was tired; but it seemed to me, considering Doris's youth,
+she expected rather a lot of her."
+
+"Ah!..."
+
+Hal turned away, and picked up an evening paper.  The exclamation might
+have meant anything, yet Dudley half knew it meant that in some way Hal
+believed Doris had wilfully misrepresented her sister, and, naturally
+resenting the inference, he returned to his book and said no more.
+
+Hal lingered a little longer, passed one or two remarks on the evening
+news, told him of her day in the country, and then went to bed.
+
+Yet, in spite of her soreness towards Doris, something in her evening
+with Ethel had unaccountably cheered and refreshed her - the kindly
+praise, the warm-hearted affection, the sight of the strong, womanly
+face, unembittered by its heavy sorrow.
+
+Hal stood at her window, and glanced out over the City, and felt
+renewed in her determination to withstand Sir Edwin Crathie's advances.
+ She knew that he was treating her with a lack of respect he would not
+have dared to show a woman in his own circle.
+
+He was treating her as a City typist; and however much she wished to
+prolong it, she knew she owed it to herself to cut it adrift.
+
+And the next day, when the anticipated telephone call came, her
+resolution was firm and unshaken.
+
+"Tell the gentleman I am engaged," she told the call boy.
+
+He came back again a moment later to know what time she would be
+disengaged, and she gave the message:  "It is quite impossible to say.
+I have some most important work on hand."
+
+The small boy grinned in a way that made Hal long to box his ears, but
+she returned to her work, and pretended not to see.
+
+At the other end of the wire the speaker sat back in his chair and
+muttered an oath; then for some moments he stared gloomily at his desk.
+
+"Damn it!  I like her pluck," ran his thoughts; "but I don't mean to be
+put off like that.  I've got to see her again somehow, if it's only to
+prove I'm not the cad she thinks me."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+The following afternoon when Hal left the office about half-past four
+she saw a motor she recognised a little way down the street, and was
+almost immediately accosted by Sir Edwin himself.
+
+"I knew you left at this time," he said frankly, "so I came to meet
+you."
+
+Hal looked a little taken aback.
+
+"I wonder why you did that," was all she found to say.
+
+"Well, it was the only way, since you won't come to the telephone, and
+I am afraid to call on you in Bloomsbury.  I want to talk to you.  Come
+along and have some tea."
+
+Hal hesitated, looking doubtfully at the motor, but he urged her on.
+
+"Come; surely you're not afraid to have a cup of tea with me.  We'll go
+to the Carlton - or the Ritz if you prefer it - and take a conspicuous
+table."
+
+"In my office garments!" with a low laugh.  "I don't want to be taken
+for your housekeeper."
+
+"My housekeeper is a deuce of a swell," laughing in his turn.  "She
+certainly wouldn't be seen in a last year's frock; but you're one of
+the lucky people who manage to look smart, even in office clothes, as
+you call them - so come along."
+
+Hal got into the motor.
+
+"Which is it to be?  Ritz or Carlton?"
+
+"Oh, Carlton - and not the centre table."
+
+"How do you manage it?" he said, as they glided off, looking at her
+with critical, admiring eyes.
+
+"Manage what?  I wish you wouldn't look at me like a doctor studying my
+health.  I shall put my tongue out in a minute."
+
+"Don't do that.  A colleague or an opponent would be sure to be
+looking, and I don't know which would be worse.  Manage to look smart
+in anything, of course I mean."
+
+"Oh, it's Lorraine Vivian and her maid; they loathe to see me dowdy."
+
+"With a little help from the Almighty, who gave you a haughty little
+nose and a short upper lip," he told her laughingly.  "You're been very
+angry with me, I'm afraid, and no doubt I deserved it, but I'm going to
+make you be friends again and forgive me."
+
+"You won't find it easy."
+
+"I dare say not; but I'm going to try all the same.  Shall I begin with
+a humble apology?"
+
+"You couldn't be humble.  I shouldn't believe in it."
+
+"I believe I could with you - which means a great deal.  Tell me, were
+you fully determined not to speak to me on the telephone, and not to
+see me again?"
+
+"Most certainly I was."
+
+"What nonsense!  And did you really suppose I should submit without
+making an effort to see you, and persuade you to be friends again?"
+
+Hal tilted her nose up a little, and glanced away as she replied a
+trifle scathingly:
+
+"I supposed, having found I was not the sort of girl you imagined, and
+not one you could take liberties with, that possibly our friendship
+would cease to interest you."
+
+He coloured slightly.
+
+"You hit hard, but I suppose I have deserved it.  I shall now have to
+prove to you that I've turned over a new leaf, and deserve it no
+longer."
+
+They stopped before the Carlton as he spoke, and he led the way into
+the lounge, and to a side table.
+
+"I'm sure you'll trust me this far," he said; "people stare so when one
+is in the middle of the room."
+
+Hal sat down and drew off her gloves, feeling, in spite of herself,
+unmistakably happy.  It was good to be there, instead of trudging home
+to Bloomsbury; and it was specially good to be chatting to him again.
+
+A dear friend may be always a dear friend, and yet not just the one one
+wants at the moment.  When things are difficult, and irritating, and
+disappointing, the pleasantest companion is apt to be one with so much
+individual regard for us at the time that we can hold forth upon our
+troubles without any fear of boring our listener.
+
+When Hal had poured her tale of woe into Lorraine's ear, she had known
+that Lorraine was genuinely interested and sorry - and yet, also, that
+something else occupied her mind at the same time.  Sitting now,
+opposite to Sir Edwin Crathie, it was perfectly apparent for the time
+being that his mind was entirely at her service.
+
+This was further shown by the fact that he realised something was
+worrying her before she told him.
+
+"What's the matter?" he asked abruptly; "you look as if something very
+boring had happened."
+
+"It has."
+
+Hal kept her eyes lowered a moment, with a thoughtful air, and the
+corners of the fascinating mouth drooped a little.
+
+"What has happened?...  Tell me what is bothering you."
+
+He spoke reremptorily, yet with an evident concern for her that made
+the peremptory tone dangerously alluring.  Hal remained silent, though
+she felt her pulses quicken, and he added:
+
+"Come, we are going to be friends again; aren't we?  I've told you I'm
+very sorry; I can't do more.  You will really have to forgive me now."
+
+She looked into his face, and something in his eyes told her he was
+quite genuine for the time.  Of course it might be rash, and unwise,
+and various other things, but it had been a difficult, trying week, and
+his sympathy was passing good now.  Sir Edwin met her gaze for a
+moment, and then lowered his.
+
+He thought it was chiefly when her eyes laughed that he wanted to kiss
+her, but when they had that serious, rather appealing expression, he
+began to feel they were more disturbing still.  Mastering his
+unmanageable senses with an effort, he looked up again, and said:
+
+"Well, what is it?  Of course you must tell me."
+
+"Brother Dudley is going to be married," said Hal with her usual
+directness.
+
+"When?"  And Sir Edwin gave a low exclamation of surprise.  "Isn't it
+rather sudden?"
+
+"Very," in dry tones.
+
+"And I suppose you don't want to love your prospective sister-in-law
+all in a hurry."
+
+"I don't want to love her at all."
+
+"Then I don't suppose you will," with a little laugh. "Presumably you
+know her."
+
+"I have known her a long time.  If I had been asked, she is the last
+girl I could have believed Dudley would care for.  I don't believe he
+does care for her in the real sense.  She is very pretty, and she
+wanted to marry him, and she just played on his feelings."
+
+"What do you call 'in the real sense' ?" he asked pointedly.
+
+"A pink spot burned in Hal's cheeks; she felt the question a little
+beside the mark, and did not want to answer it.
+
+"She has rather a dull home, and is very poor, and I think she thought
+on the whole life would be improved if she were Dudley's wife."
+
+"And that is not the real sense?" insistently.
+
+"It certainly is not love."
+
+"Well, you haven't yet told me what is?"
+
+"I don't know much about it, and" - hastily - "I don't want to.  When
+it's real it hurts, and when it isn't real it's just feebleness."
+
+"Still, you must know some day."
+
+He liked to see the spot of colour spreading in her cheeks, and the
+frank eyes growing a little defiant as he pressed her against her will.
+
+"It doesn't follow that I must.  Perhaps I shall just be feeble, and
+marry for a home 	and luxuries."
+
+"Never," with conviction.  "You'll - Hal, you'll get it badly when once
+you're caught."
+
+"I never said you might call me 'Hal'."
+
+"Didn't you?  Well, I apologise.  May I?"
+
+She could not help laughing.
+
+"You evidently mean to; and I suppose you usually have your own way."
+
+"Very often.  That's sensible of you.  Of course you are sometimes
+annoying sensible and practical.  I don't know that I ever liked any
+one quite so level-headed before.  It never appealed to me.  Yet,
+somehow, I think you could lose your head.  You've got it in you to do
+so.  I wouldn't give tuppence for a woman who hadn't."
+
+Hal was silent, and, as usual, he pressed his point.
+
+"Do you think you could lose your head?"
+
+"I don't think I shall," was the evasive answer.
+
+"I wonder," he said.
+
+She felt him looking hard into her face, and moved restlessly beneath a
+scrutiny that quickened her pulses and warmed her blood in a way that
+was altogether new.  Then suddenly she looked up.
+
+"Don't you think we are rather talking drivel?  Let's get back to the
+original subject.  I don't want to lose my head - it's rather a nice
+one - sound and reliable and all that."
+
+He sat back in his chair with a laugh.
+
+"You're very clever," he told her admiringly.  "I always seem to be
+out-flanked in the end.  Very well then, Brother Dudley has got engaged
+foolishly, and Hal has been quietly fretting, instead of being a
+sensible little woman, and telling her friend all about it straight
+away.  What are you going to do now?"
+
+"I can't do anything.  He won't get married for a few months anyway."
+
+"And when he does?"
+
+"Then I shall stay where I am, and make the best of it, I suppose...
+but... but" - her voice broke a little - "I'm a positive fool about
+Dudley.  I can't bear to lose him."
+
+"Poor little woman.  Well, I'll be good to you if you'll let me.  I
+dare say I can brighten things up a little.  Every cloud has a silver
+lining, you know."
+
+"I don't know where Dudley's will be," with a wintry smile.  "It
+wouldn't be so hard if I thought there was any chance of his being
+happy.  But there isn't.  He doesn't in the least know her real
+character."
+
+They sat on until seven o'clock, and then Hal rose to go, feeling
+happier than she had done ever since they last met.
+
+"Well, am I forgiven?" he asked, as she buttoned her gloves.
+
+"You are, for the present," with an arch glance; "but I reserve the
+right to retract at a moment's notice."
+
+"And in the meantime you will prove it by coming out to lunch on
+Sunday?  We might go to the Zoo afterwards, and make friends with some
+of the animals."
+
+At the first suggestion of lunch Hal had been ready to shy away, but
+the idea of the Zoo on Sunday afternoon was too much for her, and she
+said with unmistakable longing:
+
+"I should simply love the Zoo."  Then, after a pause: "Couldn't I meet
+you there about three?"
+
+"But why wait until three?"  It is not very friendly of you to refuse
+to lunch with me."
+
+"I usually go to Lorraine" - somewhat lamely.
+
+"Why not bring Miss Vivian with you?"
+
+"Oh, could I?" eagerly; "that would be splendid - if she is disengaged."
+
+A curious little half smile crossed his eyes at her eagerness; but he
+only said:
+
+"Certainly, and if she cares to bring a friend, to make the party an
+even number, I shall be only too pleased.  Shall we say the Piccadilly,
+for a change, at 1.30?"
+
+Hal thanked him, and as she sped homewards in a taxi he had procured
+for her, she viewed the prospect with real delight.
+
+Dudley, of course, would be spending his Sunday with Doris, and she and
+Lorraine, supposing the latter were disengaged, might have found the
+afternoon a little long alone.  The evening was the occasion of the
+dinner-party to commemorate Alymer Hermon's first brief, so it was very
+likely Lorraine would be free at midday.
+
+She thought it was nice of Sir Edwin to invite her friend as well, and
+as she reviewed the afternoon meeting, her heart was foolishly glad
+over his apology, and insistent determination to be friends.  It was
+evident, she believed, that if she adhered to her resolute resistance
+of familiarity, she would be able to keep him at a discreet distance,
+and they might enjoy a really delightful friendship.
+
+Her eyes were smiling and glad at the little upper window that night.
+She had hated cutting off their friendship.  The days had been dull and
+dragging without even a telephone chat with him; and though she still
+told herself it was chiefly because of the shock of Dudley's
+engagement, she knew it was a little for his sake also.
+
+And she thought further, if they might now include Lorraine in some of
+their meetings, it would be an added safeguard, and very entertaining
+as well.  She meant to telephone to her the first thing in the morning
+to fix up their Sunday engagement.
+
+Inquiries on the telephone, however, the next morning, elicited the
+information that Lorraine had already arranged to go out to lunch; and
+thus Hal found herself unexpectedly thrown on her own resources.  A
+little note from Ethel asking her to accompany Dudley if she had
+nothing better to do, placed her in a further awkward position.
+
+She did not want to go to Holloway, to swell the number of mouths to be
+fed out of Ethel's slender housekeeping purse, and add one more to be
+cooked for, etc., on Ethel's one free day.  Finally, because it was the
+simplest, as well as the pleasantest thing to do, she telephoned Sir
+Edwin, and told him Lorraine could not accompany her on Sunday, but she
+would be there herself, and afterwards go to the Zoo.
+
+And at the other end of the wire Sir Edwin smiled, an enigmatical smile
+that was unmistakably pleased, as he put back the receiver, and glanced
+towards the cosy fire in his grate.
+
+"I wonder," he said to himself meditatively, "if one could make her
+care, whether she could care enough to lose her head."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+It was rather a curious circumstance, that on the occasion of
+Lorraine's dinner-party, Alymer Hermon was the first to notice an
+indefinable change in Hal.  To the others she was only gayer than
+usual, more sparkling, better-looking.
+
+From the Zoological Gardens Sir Edwin had taken her home in a taxi, and
+after being a delightful companion all the afternoon, had said good-bye
+in just the friendly, pally spirit that Hal wished, without exhibiting
+any alarming symptoms whatever to disturb her peace of mind.  He had
+indeed been at his very best; far nicer than ever before; and together
+they had thoroughly enjoyed their intercourse, through iron bars, with
+the animals they both loved.
+
+Moreover, his knowledge on most subjects did not exclude zoology, and
+he was able to tell her numberless little details of the ways and
+habits of beasts that Hal rejoiced to hear, because she loved all
+four-footed things.
+
+And then there had been the pleasant consciousness of a new winter
+costume, that was not only very up-to-date, but remarkable becoming;
+and Hal was true woman enough to enjoy the knowledge that she looked
+her best.  Neither was it in any degree a mediocre "best"; and even Sir
+Edwin was a little surprised to find himself with a companion who
+attracted nearly as many admiring glances as various lady friends who
+were recognised beauties.
+
+Her slim, graceful figure was singularly perfect, and, als he observed
+with fresh pleasure each time they met, she walked with a natural
+elegance and grace that were a delight to the eye.  And happiness gave
+a faint pink flush to her cheeks and a light to her eyes, that somehow
+seemed to radiate gaiety; and her intense power of enjoyment
+communicated itself to others in a way that was wholly delifhtful.
+
+So they spent a gay afternoon, which cemented the former
+acquaintanceship into a firmer bond of friendship, and because of it he
+vowed within himself he would play fair with her, and make no more
+advances he was not prepared to follow up in an honourable spirit.
+
+For Hal, it was enough that the past mistake seemed genuinely regretted
+and wiped out, and that all his manner to her now held deference and
+respect.  And she was intensely glad - almost alarmingly glad, if she
+had stopped to consider; only that would have cast a shadow on the
+sunshine; and she preferred to take the sunshine while it offered, and
+leave the future to take care of itself.
+
+And in the meantime there was Lorraine's dinner-party, instead of a
+lonely evening, and once more she dressed herself with care and skill;
+and later stood up straight and slim in Lorraine's pretty drawing-room,
+radiating happiness, and surprising even old friends with her goodlooks.
+
+Alymer Hermon remarked it first.  He was standing beside her on the
+hearth, and he looked down from his great height with laughing,
+quizzical eyes and said:
+
+"You're looking astonishingly pretty to-night.  Have you been
+consulting a beauty specialist?"
+
+Dick Bruce and Quin laughed delightedly.
+
+"Why, of course!" cried Dick, digging his hands deep into his pockets,
+and giving himself a little gleeful shake,  "I've been puzzling my head
+to grasp what it was.  I'd forgotten all about the beauty specialists.
+It must have cost an awful lot, Hal."
+
+"It did," she told them; "but you've no idea how clever they are.  They
+can renovate the most hopeless faces.  I'm sure you'd all find it worth
+while running to the expense."
+
+"Now, come Hal," objected Quin laughingly.  "We can't have the ornament
+of our flat insulted like that.  The rising barrister needs no beauty
+specialist, you must admit."
+
+Hal looked up at the giant with twitching lips.
+
+"I was going to suggest a brain specialist for him.  It won't be much
+use getting lots of briefs because he looks nice in his wig and gown if
+he hasn't the brains to win his cases."
+
+Hermon caught her by the shoulders to shake her, and at that moment
+Lord Denton quietly entered the room.
+
+Lorraine had met him in the hall, while hastening across for something
+she had forgotten, and told him to go in, so that he entered
+unannounced, and saw the group before they knew of his presence.
+
+Especially he seemed to see the two on the hearthrug.  Hal, with her
+shining eyes, rising coulour, and laughing lips, and Hermon with a sort
+of answering glow in his face, boyishly gripping her shoulders as if to
+shake her.  He stood and looked at them a moment without speaking, then
+Hal espied him, and thinking he had that instant entered, exclaimed:
+
+"Help!... Help!...  Lord Denton, I am caught in the clutches of
+Leviathan."
+
+He came forward smillingly.
+
+"Leviathan does not look as if he meant to eat you; and even if he did,
+I don't believe my courage would run to closing with
+six-foot-five-and-a-half."
+
+"Awful, isn't it?" she said, releasing herself and giving him her hand.
+ "He is like those lanky pieces of corn which are all stalk and no
+head.  Have you seen him before?"
+
+"Once," offering his hand to Hermon.  "Delighted to see you again.  I
+hear you've made a hit already.  My cousin tells me his friend is
+charmed with your way of grappling with her case."
+
+"Did you take her by the shoulders?" asked Hal wickedly, rubbing her
+own.
+
+"No,' Lord Denton told her.  "He was very grave indeed.  You must give
+him his due, Miss Pritchard.  You've seen him grave yourself, haven't
+you now?"
+
+"Yes; and he looked like a boiled owl.  On the whole, I prefer him
+imbecile."
+
+Alymer turned on her threateningly, but she slipped behind the other
+two, saying:
+
+"Have you met these also, Lord Denton.  Mr. St. Quintin, of Shoreditch,
+and my cousin, Dick Bruce, poet, novelist, and mother's help."
+
+Denton shook hands with them genially, and then Lorraine came back, and
+they all followed her to the dining-room.
+
+The repast was a very gay one.  Every one was in the best of spirits,
+and, which is more important still, all were in attune, and there was
+no dissentient note.  Hal was perhaps the gayest, and Lord Denton found
+himself watching her almost if he were seeing her for the first time.
+She seemed to him to have developed amazingly in the few months since
+he last met her, but he supposed girls of her age often developed
+quickly.
+
+Yet even then it seemed a little strange that the merry, rather crude
+young typist, as he had regarded her before, should so easily appear a
+sparkling, distinguished guest.  He could not help a little mental
+comparision with Lorraine, not in any way to the latter's detriment,
+but with a vague thought at the back of his mind concerning her and
+Hermon.
+
+Lorraine would always be beautiful: her whole face and form were
+modelled on lines that would stand the ravages of many years; and for
+him she would ever be one of the dearest of women; but could she match
+Hal's young, vigorous, independence, that was very likely to prove more
+attractive than a generously given devotion?
+
+Men, like women, are drawn to an indifference that piques them; and he,
+man of the world that he was, foresaw a strong irresistible attraction
+about Hal's spirited independence.
+
+But, on the other hand, Lorraine was intensely sympathetic and
+understanding, as well as beautiful; and it seemed strange indeed if
+any man she chose to enslave could resist her.
+
+He watched Hermon bend his fair head down to her dark one, with an
+affectionate, protective air, that was very becoming to him; and
+observed that with Hal it was all sparring, and told himself Lorraine
+had nothing to fear.
+
+They toasted Hermon on his brief, and on the laurel wreath Dick
+announced he already perceived sprouting on his manly brow.  Hal said
+it was only a daisy chain, or the halo of a cherubim; and the laurels
+were rightly sprouting on Dick's brow as a novelist.
+
+Hermon returned thanks in a witty, clever little speech, during which
+Lorraine seemed scarcely able to take her eyes from his face, and Lord
+Denton recognised more fully the extraordinary attraction such a man
+must wield, whether by intention or quite unconsciously.
+
+He pictured him towering a head and shoulders above nearly every one
+around at the law courts, with his clear-cut, fine face, looking yet
+more striking in the severe setting of a wig and gown; and he knew that
+Lorraine had made no mistake when she said he only wanted impetus and a
+chance to make a name for himself.  If he could rap out a dainty little
+speech like this at a moment's notice, wearing just that air of
+unpretentious, boyish humour, his path ought undoubtedly to be a path
+of roses, petted by women, admired and appreciated by men.
+
+"In conclusion," he was saying, "may I suggest a toast to Miss
+Pritchard?  I am sure you will all join me in offering her our warmest
+congratulations upon her sudden and unlooked-for promotion, from a
+somewhat nondescript young person to a brilliant and beautiful society
+belle."
+
+"Speech! speech!" cried Dick and Quin to her gleefully, noisely
+rattling their glasses, and Hal got to her feet.
+
+"Ladies and gentleman and Baby Alymer Hermon," she began.  "You must
+allow me to acknowledge your kind toast by congratulating you all, in
+return, upon the sudden and swift development of you powers of vision
+and perspicacity: equalled only, I may say, by your extraordinary
+dulness in not having observed long ago those traits for which you are
+pleased, at this late hour, to offer me your congratulations.  Before I
+sit down I should like to suggest we all drink the healths of the
+celebrated actress who is our hostess, of a bishop in the making -"
+signifying Quin; "a great novelist in the brewing, and a gentleman
+justly celebrated for the eloquence and ease with which he does nothing
+at all" - and she bowed to Lord Denton.
+
+"Capital!" he exclaimed.  "I am evidently dining in very distinguished
+company to-night"; a little later, turning to Dick, he added: "How
+soon, may I ask, will this great novel be procurable by the general
+public?"
+
+Before Dick could reply, Hal intercepted gaily:
+
+"Well, I think the carrots and turnips have fallen out as to which
+takes precedence at a dinner-party: isn't that so, Dick?  And until the
+difficult question is settled, progress halts."
+
+"Something of the kind," agreed Dick promptly; "and there is also
+discord among the vegetable marrows and pumpkins on a similar question;
+but when the Baby Brigade has settled the views of the Trade Unions,
+and reversed the Osborne Judgment, we shall be able to proceed
+smoothly."
+
+"It sounds a very extraordinary type of novel," said Lorraine.
+
+"It is.  I wanted, if possible, to write something even more imbecile
+than has ever yet been written.  I have not the patience for great
+length; nor the wit for brilliant satire; nor the imagination for te
+popular, spicy, impossible, ill-flavoured romance; so I have chosen the
+other line, adopted by the great majority, and aim at purposeless,
+pointless imbecility."
+
+"And is Hal the model for your heroine?" asked Hermon.
+
+When Hal's indignation and epithets had subsided, Quin remarked that he
+supposed the book fairly bristled with mothers, and with paragraphs of
+good advice to them.
+
+"Well, yes," Dick admitted.  "There are certainly a good many mothers -
+far more mothers than wives, in fact."
+
+"Oh, naughty!" put in Lord Denton.
+
+"Not at all.  It has to do with a theory.  It is to bring out the
+common sense of vegetables compared to humans.  Humans condemn millions
+of women, specially born for motherhood, to purposeless, joyless
+spinsterhood, all on account of a prejudice.  No green, brainless,
+commonplace vegetable would be guilty of such unutterable folly as
+that."
+
+"Don't be too sweeping," quoth Quin.  "In the East End women are still
+mothers from choice; and given decent, healthy conditions, they would
+proudly raise an army to protect their country from her threatening
+foes.  It is not their fault that 50 per cent of their offspring are
+sickly, anaemic little weeds."
+
+"It sounds as if your book has a serious side in spite of its
+imbecility?" suggested Lorraine.
+
+"Imbecility and madness are usually full of seriousness," Dick told her
+- "far more so than commonplace rationalism."
+
+"And do you want to revolutionise society?"
+
+"Oh dear no; what an alarming idea!"
+
+"Then what do you want?" - they asked him.
+
+"I want to see all the superfluous unemployed spinsters busy, happy
+mothers, patriotically contributing to raise a splendid fighting-force,
+for one thing, which will certainly be regarded as an utterly imbecile
+idea by a magnificently rational world."
+
+"And have you any theory about it?" asked Lord Denton.
+
+"Nothing but the worn-out, commonplace, absurdly natural theories of
+the vegetable and animal kingdoms.  My only chance is that, being so
+ancient, and so absurdly natural, the modern world may mistake them for
+something entirely new, and seize upon them with the fasionable avidity
+for novelties."
+
+"Or they may lock you up," suggested Quin.
+
+"In any case I'm afraid you'll be too late," Hal commented, with a half
+grave, half sarcastic air; "for before your theories can make any
+headway, England is likely to have given all her life-blood to systems,
+and restrictions, and cut-and-dried conventions, utterly regardless of
+her need for a strong protecting force to maintain her existence at
+all.  Taken in the aggregate, she never has bothered much about the
+primary necessity for the best possible conditions for the mothers of
+the future."
+
+"What a learned sentence, Hal," put in Lorraine, looking amused.
+"Quite worthy of a militant suffragette."
+
+"The announced suffragettes are not the only ones who care for
+England's future," she said.  "I suppose I care a good deal because I'm
+in the newspaper world, and I know something of what she has to contend
+against in the way of petty party spirit and the self-aggrandising of
+some of her so-called leaders, who haven't an ounce of true patriotism,
+and only want to shout something outrageous in a very loud voice, just
+to attract public attention."
+
+"I think Bruce is right up to a certain point," remarked Lord Denton.
+"We can hardly contemplate the reinstitution of polygamy, but it
+certainly ought to be the business of the State to see that every child
+born into the country is given the best possible conditions in which to
+become a good citizen and, if necessary, a good soldier."
+
+"Isn't there a Poor Law for that express purpose?" asked Lorraine.
+
+"Don't speak of it," commented Quin sadly.  "Our Poor Law, like so many
+excellent institutions, is mostly run on a wrong basis.  Huge sums of
+money are expended in procuring homes for homeless children, and the
+last thing that seems to be considered is the suitability of the home.
+Applications are accepted in a perfunctory, business-like way by
+guardians and others - and perhaps an inspector takes a casual glance
+round; but the moral aspect of the whole matter, as to character and
+habits, is mostly left to chance.   We, who are on the spot, often have
+to rescue children from the homes the State has provided for them."
+
+"It is more supervision, then, that you want?" asked Lord Denton.
+
+"It is a different sort of supervision altogether.  It ought to be
+woman's work, not man's - women who are paid and encouraged and helped."
+
+"But that might be defying some of the precious conventions," put in
+Hal with a touch of scorn - "making women too important, don't you
+know; and encouraging them to be something more than household
+ornaments.  We can't have that, even for the sake of the future.  It
+would be too alarming.  No; England will continue in her cast-iron rut
+of prejudice, until most of her soul-power is dried up, and only the
+husk of a great nation is left, to follow in the way of other husks."
+
+"Then I will go to the new, young, strong nation, and watch her
+splendid rise," quoth Dick.
+
+"Traitor!" they threw at him, but he was quite imperturbed.  "Strength
+and vigour are better than old traditions and an enfeebled race; and
+sombebody, somewhere on the globe, had got to listen to what I am bound
+to teach."
+
+"You dear old Juggins," said Hal, "when England has passed her zenith,
+and gone under to the new, strong race, you will be found sitting
+meditating among cabbages and green peas, like Omar Khayy�m in his rose
+garden.  The rest of us will have died in the fighting-line - except
+Baby, and they will put him under a glass case, and preserve him as one
+of the few fine specimens left of a decadent race - in spite of his
+brainlessness."
+
+"Are we a decadent race?" asked Lorraine thoughtfully.
+
+"Only the House of Lords and a few leading Conservatives," said Lord
+Denton with flippancy.  "The workingman who has the courage to refuse
+to work, and the Liberal members who have the grit to demand salaries
+for upsetting the Constitution, led by a few eminent Ministers who
+delight to remove their neighbour's landmark, and relieve his pocket,
+are the splendid fellows of the grand new opening era of prosperity and
+greatness."
+
+"Still," put in Quin hopefully, "it is very fashionable to go big-game
+shooting nowadays, and an African lion may yet chew up a few of them."
+
+"Poor lion!" quoth Lorraine; "but what a fine finale for the king of
+beasts, to chew up the despoilers of kings.  Shall we go to the
+drawing-room?"  And she rose to lead the way.
+
+A Bridge table was arranged in an alcove for Hal and three of the men,
+and Lorraine and Hermon sat over the fire for preference.  They were
+far enough away from the players to be able to speak of them unheard,
+and Hermon, in the course of their conversation, mentioned that he saw
+something different in Hal to-night to what he had noticed before.
+
+Lorraine thought she was only very lively, but Hermon looked doubtful.
+He could not express what he seemed to see, but in some way her
+liveliness held a new note.  He thought she had more tone and a new
+kind of assurance, and he tried to explain it to Lorraine.
+
+"I expect she's had a jolly afternoon," was all Lorraine said, with a
+smile.  "She has been to the Zoo with Sir Edwin Crathie."
+
+"Has she?" significantly, and Hermon raised his eyebrows.  "Are they
+still friends, then?  I thought she only knew him slightly."
+
+"Thas was at the beginning," and Lorraine glanced at him with the smile
+deepening in her eyes.  "There always has to be a beginning - doesn't
+there?"
+
+But no answering smile shone in Alymer Hermon's face, rather a slight
+shade of anxiety as he glanced across the room at Hal.  "I should not
+like a sister of mine to have much to do with Sir Edwin Crathie," he
+said gravely.
+
+"Perhaps not, you dear old Solemn-acre," giving his arm a gentle pat;
+"but a sister of yours would not have learned early to battle with the
+world as Hal has."
+
+"But surely if she is less protected than a sister of mine would have
+been, there is the greater cause for caution."
+
+"There is no comparision.  A sister of yours would always have known
+protection, and always rely on it, and if it failed her she might find
+herself in difficulties and dangers she hardly knew how to cope with.
+Hal faced the difficulties and the dangers early, and learnt to be her
+own defence and protector.  Some women have to, you see.  It is
+necessary for them to wield weapons and armour out of their own
+strength, and be prepared to be buffeted by a heartless world, and not
+be afraid.  If you had a sister, you would want to keep her in
+cotton-wool, and never let any rough, enlightening experience come near
+her.  If I had a daughter, I should like her to have the enlightening
+experience early, and learn to be strong and self-dependent like Hal;
+then I shouldn't be afraid of her future."
+
+She was silent a few moments, then added thoughtfully:  "I think it
+would be better for society in general if the girls of the leisured
+classes knew more about the world, and were better able to take car of
+themselves; meaning, of course, with a pride like Hal's in going
+straight because it's the game."
+
+Hermon's eyes again strayed to Hal's pretty head, with its glossy brown
+hair, and Lorraine continued after a pause:
+
+"If I'm afraid of anything with Hal, it is that she might let herself
+get to care for some one who isn't worth her little finger, or some one
+who is out of her reach, or something generally impossible.  She
+wouldn't care lightly; and she'd get dreadfully hurt."
+
+"But surely she couldn't actually fall in love with a man like Edwin
+Crathie?" he remonstrated.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of Sir Edwin specially.  She goed about a great
+deal, you know, and meets many people.  She has a strong vein of
+romance too.  I always feel I shall be very glad when she is safely
+anchored, if only it is to the right man."
+
+They were interrupted then by the Bridge players, who had finished
+their first rubber, and Lord Denton persuaded Hermon to change places
+with him for a time, and came to sit over the fire with Lorraine.
+Presently he too mentioned Hal.
+
+"She is the best woman Bridge player I have ever met," he said.  "She
+seems to be developing into something rather out of the ordinary.
+Hasn't she grown much better-looking?"
+
+Lorraine smiled, a slow, sweet smile.
+
+"Alymer Hermon has just been praising Hal too," she said; "I like to
+hear you men admire her; it shows you can appreciate sterling worth as
+well - well - shall we call it daring impropriety?"
+
+"You are a little severe."
+
+"Am I?  Well, you see, I know a good many men pretty intimately; and I
+have gleaned from various confiding moments that it is not the working
+woman chiefly, relying only on her own protection, who strays into the
+murky byways and muddy corners of life.  It is surprisingly often the
+direction of the idle, home-guarded, bored young lady.  Flip, if it
+came to a choice, I believe I would put my money on the worker.  It's
+such a splendid, healthy, steadying thing to have a real purpose and a
+real occupation; instead of just days and weeks of idle enjoyment.  And
+as for temptations!  Well, they abound pretty fully in both cases; it
+isn't the amount of temptation likely to be encountered that matters,
+so much as the quality of the individual armour to meet it with."
+
+"Still, when it comes to being hungry and cold and having no money?" he
+argued.
+
+"It doesn't make much difference in the long run, except that one hopes
+The Man Above will surely find a wider forgiveness for the woman who
+was hungry and cold than for the woman who was just bored, but hadn't
+the grit to find an aim and purpose to renew and invigorate a
+purposeless life.  All the same, I'd like to see Hal safely anchored to
+a real good fellow.  Flip, if you could persuade her to try, she'd make
+you a splendid wife."
+
+"And what in the world should I do with a splendid wife?" laughing
+frankly into her face - "what an appalling possession!  Lorry, old
+girl, I've got a splendid woman pal, and that's good enough for me.  If
+I ever want a wife you shall have the privilege of finding me one: but
+it won't be until I am old and gouty, and then she had better be a
+hospital nurse, inured to irritability."
+
+"You are quite hopeless," shaking her head at him, "but I don't
+particularly want to lose you as a friend, unless it is for Hal; so
+we'll say no more."
+
+"Sensible woman!  And now I must really be off.  I like your friends,
+Lorry.  They're very fresh.  And of course Hermon is tremendous.  You
+haven't overdrawn him at all.  Only to be careful.  Remember the burnt
+child.  A man like that ought to be made to wear a mask and hideous
+garments, for the protection of susceptible females."
+
+"He would need to speak through a grating trumpet as well."
+
+"Yes, I suppose he would.  Even I can hear the attraction in his voice.
+ It will be splendid when he begins to feel his feet in the law courts.
+ We'll make a celebrity of him, shall we - just for the interest of it.
+ But it's to be only a hobby, Lorraine, no entanglements, mind" - and
+he laughed his low, pleasant laught.
+
+"Very well, call it a hobby, or what you like - only keep him in mind
+now, Flip.  I've got him into an ambitious spirit that means
+everything, if there is enough fuel at the beginning to keep it alight
+until it is a glowing pile quite capable of burning gaily alone."
+
+"Right you are.  I like him.  You fan the flame, and I'll rake up the
+fuel.  I'll speak to Hodson about him to-morrow.  He's always ready to
+lend a hand to a promising junior."
+
+When they had all gone, Lorraine lingered a few moments by her fireside.
+
+"A hobby!" she breathed; "yes, why not?  Man-making is almost equal to
+man-bearing.  I have no son to spur up the Olympian heights; but what
+might I not do for Alymer, if... if - "
+
+She placed her hands on the mantelshelf, and leaned her forehead down
+on them.
+
+"Alymer," she whispered, a little brokenly, "I wonder if I ought to be
+ready to give you all, and ask nothing?  Perhaps make you all the
+splendid man you might be, just for some one else, and get nothing
+myself but a heart-ache?"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+The winter months passed more or less uneventfully and pleasantly.  The
+case in which Hermon had held his first brief, though in only a very
+secondary position, was rather splendidly won.  An unlooked-for
+development in it roused public interest, and filled the Hall with
+spectators.  Lord Denton went out of curiosity, and was present when
+Hermon, as an unknown junior, made his first public appearance.
+
+He was not the only man specially interested either; seniour councel on
+both sides had its grandiloquent eye on the new-comer, so to speak -
+interested to know how he would acquit himself.  Afterwards they
+congratulated him very warmly, and Denton went to tell Lorraine he had
+made a hit.
+
+"He looked splendid," he declared enthusiastically; "and het was
+delightfully calm and self-possessed.  He'll soon get another brief
+now.  You see."
+
+He did; and the future began to look very full of promise to this
+favourite of fortune.
+
+As Lorraine had predicted, his growing success filled his mind, and
+kept him safe from many pitfalls; while her sympathetic companionship
+satisfied him in other respects, and formed a substantial bulwark
+between him and the women who would have tried to spoil him.
+
+He had other women friends as well, but Lorraine felt they were not
+dangerous, by the way he talked of them.  As long as he did not get
+foolishly engaged, and cripple his career at the very outset, as he
+easily might while he had no income to rely on, she did not fear.  Lord
+Denton advised her to marry him to an heiress as soon as possible, but
+Lorraine knew better than to risk an impeding millstone of gold, and
+insisted he must just win his way through on the allowance his father
+gave him.
+
+In the meantime they were a great deal together, and though they seldom
+went to any public place alone, they occasionally broke their rule; and
+it was known, at any rate in theatrical circles, that Lorraine rarely
+went out with her own old set, and had grown reserved and quiet.  Hal
+knew something of the absorbing friendship, but she still made light of
+it, and sparred with Hermon whenever she saw him - "for his good."
+
+As a matter of fact, she did not go quite so much to Lorraine's as
+usual herself; for many of the hours she had been accustomed to spend
+there she now spent with Sir Edwin Crathie.  All through the winter
+they continued to take motor rides into the country; and often they
+went together to a quiet, unfashionable golf club, where they were both
+learning to overcome the intricacies and trials of that absorbing
+pastime.
+
+It was easy for Sir Edwin to silence curious tongues.  He spoke of her
+quite frankly as his niece, and Hal more or less acquiesced, because it
+was simpler to arrange an afternoon's golf, for Dudley had managed to
+become very thoroughly absorbed in Doris, and she aksed no questions.
+
+The only two to raise any real objections were Dick and Alymer Hermon.
+Dick had to be talked round, and thoroughly impressed with Sir Edwin's
+great age (of forty-eight), and though Hal did not state the actual
+years, she was perfectly correct in insisting that he was old enough to
+be her father; though she need not perhaps have said it in quite such a
+tone of ridiculing an absurd idea.
+
+Anyhow, Dick was pacified up to a certain point, and obliged to see
+that the new friendship did her good, keeping her cheerful and hopeful
+in spite of her bitter disappointment about Dudley's engagement, and
+generally brightening the whole of the winter routine for her.
+
+With Hermon it was rather different.  Ha was less cosmopolitan than
+Dick, and he insistently adhered to his first idea concerning what he
+would have felt had Hal been his sister.
+
+Why she should have been specially interested did not occur to him.
+Dick, of course, actually was a sort of brother, being much more so in
+a sense than many real brothers, as far as personal interest and
+protection went.
+
+When Has was first left an orphan she had been a great deal with him,
+at his own home, and they had always been special friends both then and
+since.
+
+But Hermon was in no sense either a brother or a special friend.  They
+had never done anything else but spar, howerver good-naturedly; and
+Lorraine, in consequence,  twitted him once or twice about looking
+grave over Hal's doings.
+
+And Hermon had laughed, and coloured a little, saying something about a
+feeling at the flat that they all had a sort of right in Hal, and he
+didn't see what that brute, Crathie - a Liberal  into the bargain -
+wanted to be taking her about for.
+
+He even went so far as to say something to Hal herself about it; one
+day, when they were alone in Lorraine's drawing-room, waiting for her
+to come in, Hal had just told him frankly she had played golf with Sir
+Edwin the previous day; and in a sudden burst of indignation Hermon
+exclaimed:
+
+"I can't think how you can be so friendly with the man.  Surely you
+know what he is?  He has about as much principle as my foot."
+
+Hal had turned round and stared at him in blank astonishment.
+
+"Goodness gracious!" she exclaimed, "what an outburst!  What has Sir
+Edwin done to hurt you?"
+
+But he stood his ground steadily.
+
+"You know it isn't that.  If you were my sister, I wouldn't let you go
+out with him as you do."
+
+"Then what a comfort for me, I'm not.  And really, Baby dear!  I'm much
+more adapted to be your mother."
+
+"Rot!"
+
+He looked at her almost fiercely for a moment,  scarcely aware of it
+himself, buth with a sudden, swift, unaccountable resentment of the old
+joke.  Hal, surprised again, backed away a little, eyeing him with a
+quizzical, roguish expression that made him want desperately to shake
+her.
+
+"Grandpapa," she murmured, with a mock, apologetic air, "you really
+mustn't get so worked up at - at your advanced years."
+
+His face relaxed suddenly into laughter.
+
+'I don't know whether I want to shake you or kiss you... you... you - "
+
+"Thanks, I'll take the shake," she interrupted promptly.   "I certainly
+haven't deserved such severe punishment as a kiss."
+
+He took a step towards her, but she stood quite still and laughed in
+his face; and he could only turn away, laughing himself.
+
+Yet he was conscious that her attitude riled him.  He was not in the
+least vain, but all the same it was absurd that Hal should persist in
+being the one woman who was not only utterly indifferent to his
+attractions, but seemed almost to scorn him for them.  In some of the
+others it would not have mattered in the least - at any rate he thought
+so - but in Hal it was sheer nonsense.
+
+He liked her better than any one, except perhaps Lorraine, and he
+always enjoyed their sparring; but of course there was a limit, and she
+really might be seriously friendly sometimes; and anyhow he hated Sir
+Edwin Crathie.
+
+While he thought all this more or less vaguely, Hal watched him with
+undisguised amusement.
+
+"Don't think so hard," she said; "it spoils the line of your profile."
+
+"Hang my profile!" he exclaimed, almost crossly.  "Can't you be serious
+for five minutes, you're always so - so - "
+
+"Not at all.  I'm perfectly serious.  A frown doesn't suit you one
+little bit.  Imagine a scowl on one of Raphael's cherubim."
+
+"I don't want to imagine anything so silly, and I'm not in the least
+like a cherub.  It would be more sensible if you want to do some wise
+imagining, to think of Sir Edwin Crathie, and imagine yourself in the
+devil's clutches."
+
+"But I've not the smallest wish to be in Sir Edwin's clutches, so why
+should I try to imagine it?...  and  you're not at all polite, are you?"
+
+"I'm honest anyway; and I'll warrant that's more than he can rise to."
+
+"But really, dear Alymer," reverting again to the mocking tone, "at
+what period of your friendship with him have you had occasion to find
+him out?"
+
+"Your sarcasm won't frighten me.  A man knows more about this sort of
+thing than a girl.  Of course he is all right in an ordinary way, but
+you are so often with him...  Considering his political career, it is
+positively unpatriotic of you to be such close friends."
+
+"Such nonsense!  Do you want me to be as bigoted and narrow-minded as
+those Conservatives who are continually holding the party back, because
+they are quite incapable of realising there are two sides to a
+question?  I don't hold the same views as Sir Edwin at all.  I'm not
+likely to, being on the staff of the _Morning Mail_; but that isn't any
+reason why I should object to him as a friend."
+
+"No; but his reputation might be."
+
+Hal stamped her foot.
+
+"Oh, don't stand there and talk about a man's reputation in that
+superior, self-satisfied fashion.  What is it to you anyhow?  My
+friendship can't possibly be any concern of yours."
+
+She moved away with a restless, ruffled manner, and threw back at him:
+
+"Of course I'm awfully grateful to you for being so interested in my
+welfare, but your concern is a little misplaced.  I am quite capable of
+taking care of myself, and have been for at least seven years."
+
+He looked hurt, and about to retort, but at that moment Lorraine's
+latch-key sounded in the door, and Hal went out into the hall to meet
+her.
+
+"I'm so glad you've come," she remarked, as they re-entered together.
+"Baby is in one of his insufferable, superior moods, and is lecturing
+me on my friendship with Sir Edwin.  And all because I casually
+mentioned I had had a game of golf with him."
+
+Lorraine looked a little surprised, but she only remarked laughingly:
+
+"It's a little fad of his to lecture.  I rather like it; but I wonder
+he had the temerity to lecture you."
+
+"Unfortunately, lecturing doesn't instil common sense," put in Hermon,
+"and it only requires common sense to understand Sir Edwin Crathie
+isn't very likely to prove a satisfactory friend."
+
+"You mean it only requires dense, narrow-minded self-satisfaction.
+Really, Baby, if you are so good to look at, there is surely a limit
+even to your permissible airs and graces"; and Hal tossed her head.
+
+"Now come, you two," interposed Lorraine; "I don't want quarreling over
+my tea.  Give her some of that sticky pink-and-white cake, Alymer, and
+have some yourself, and you will soon both grow amiable again."
+
+"He hasn't got his bibliotheek," Hal snapped, "and he knows his mother
+told him he was to have bread-and-butter first.  You are not to spoil
+him, Lorry.  Spoilt children are odious."
+
+"So are conceited women," he retorted.  "It's only that new hat that is
+making you so pleased with yourself."
+
+"It's a dear hat," she commented.  "You have to pin a curl on with it,
+else there's a gap.  I'm in mortal dread I shall lose the curl, or find
+it hanging down my back."
+
+No more was said on the subject of Sir Edwin, but when Hal was about to
+leave, and found that Hermon was staying on, she pursed up her lips
+with an air of sanctimonious disapproval and said:
+
+"I don't want to hurt any one's feelings, but I'm not at all sure _Mr._
+Hermont is quite a nice friend for you, Lorraine.  His conversation is
+neither elevating nor improving, and I hardly like to go off now and
+leave you alone with him."
+
+"Don't worry," Lorraine laughed.  "He is improving every day under my
+tuition.  I hope you can say as much for Sir Edwin."
+
+"I can," she answered frankly.  "He has learnt quite a lot since I took
+him in hand; especially about women and the vote.  He has positively
+made the discovery that they don't all want it just for notoriety, and
+novelty; but I'm afraid he won't succeed in convincing the other dense
+old gentlemen in the Cabinet.  Good-bye!"
+
+"Be circumspect, O Youth and Beauty.  And don't let him over-eat
+himself, Lorry," she finished, as she departed.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+When Hermon was finding fault with Hal's friendship for Sir Edwin
+Crathie, it had not apparently occured to him that his own friends and
+relations were likely enough to take precisely the same view of his
+friendship with Lorraine Vivian.  He did not want to think it, any more
+than Hal had done, and therefore he conveniently ignored the
+probability, and indulged in the reflection that any how they were
+never likely to hear of it.
+
+Yet it was through them, and their ill-chosen mode of interference,
+that the first trouble arose, when that quiet, peaceful winter was
+over, and the spring arrived with renewing and vigour, and with new
+happenings in other beside the natural world.
+
+It was as though the one gladsome winter of pleasant companionship and
+firesides was given to them all - Dudley and Hal, Ethel and Basil,
+Lorraine and Hermon - before the wider issues of the future stepped in
+and claimed their toll of sorrow before they gave the deeper joys.
+
+Alymer Hermon's father and mother were at this time living in a
+charming house at Sevenoaks, whither he went at least once a week to
+see them.
+
+His father had become more or less of a recluse, enjoying a quiet old
+age with his books; but his mother was an energetic, bigoted lady of
+the old school, who had allowed much natural kindliness to become
+absorbed in her devotion to church precepts and church works.
+
+When it first reached her ears that her only son, of boundless hopes
+and dreams, was continually with the actress Lorraine Vivian, she was
+horrified beyond words.
+
+Undoubtedly the story had been much magnified and embroidered, and
+accepted as a scandalous liaison or entanglement without any inquiry.
+To make matters worse, Mrs. Hermon belonged so thouroughly to the old
+school that she could not even distinguish between a clever celebrated
+actress and a chorus girl.
+
+The stage, to her, was a synonym which included all things theatrical
+in one comprehensive ban of immorality and vice, with degrees, of
+course, but in no case without deserving censure from the eminently
+respectable, well-born British matron.  She could not have been more
+upset had the heroine of the story been the under housemaid; and indeed
+she placed actressess and housemaids in much the same category.
+
+Of course the friendship must be stopped, and stopped instantly.  What
+a mercy of mercies she had discovered it so soon, and that now it might
+be nipped in the bud.  Just at the very outset of his career, too,
+which had so astonishingly developed of late, and caused her such proud
+delight.
+
+That that surprising development, both in the career and the beloved
+son, might have anything to do with this dreadful entanglement was not
+to be thought of for a moment; and when Alymer's father ventured to
+suggest thoughtfully and a little wonderingly that the friendship had
+certainly not harmed the boy, she turned on him with bitterness, ending
+up with the dictum that men were all alike when there was a woman in
+the case, and could not possibly form an unbiassed opinion.
+
+After which, she went off to church to a week-day service, partly to
+pray for guidance in a matter in which she had already firmly decided
+what line to take, and partly to unburden her mind to her pet
+clergyman.  Of course she must speak to Alymer that very evening.  How
+fortunate that it was one of the nights he almost always came to
+Sevenoaks.
+
+If only he had lived at home it would never have happened.  It was all
+that hateful little flat where he lived with Bruce and St. Quintin.
+She ought never to have given way so easily.  If his father had docked
+his allowance, in order to compel him to live at home, he would soon
+have got used to the daily train journey, and it would have been far
+better for him.
+
+Now, of course, he was not likely to hear of it; and since he was
+making such good headway in his profession, it certainly did seem a
+pity to risk upsetting him.  But no doubt a little quiet talk would
+convince him of the unwisdom of allowing his name to be associated with
+an actress just now; and once more she congratulated herself that she
+had heard in time.
+
+The Rev. Hetherington listended to her story with all the sympathetic
+horror she could wish, and she felt buoyed up in her adamantine
+decision, although she still harped on the intention of praying for
+guidance.
+
+The Rev. Hetherington, of morbid and woeful countenance, was one who
+looked across a world glorious with spring sunshine, as if he saw
+nothing but the earwigs, and black-beetles, and creepy, crawly things
+of existence, and he promised readily to pray also: and perhaps God
+smiled the smile He keeps for the good people who so often ask to be
+guided by His Will, when they have long before decided exactly what
+that Will shall be.
+
+The pastor accompanied his parishioner to her door, walking slowly with
+her through a garden bursting into a joyous splendour of crocuses, and
+snowdrops, and promise of laughing daffodils in warm corners; and
+together they lamented the terrible temptations of wicked sirens that
+beset the paths of splendid young men in the world.
+
+"Not that he isn't a good, affectionate son," she finished, "but he has
+always been made so much of - which is not in the least surprising, and
+no doubt he has grown lax.  Still, he might have remembered how proud a
+name he bore, and, at least, have drawn the line at a frivolous,
+painted actress.  His father says she is very clever and quite well
+known, but even he cannot deny she probably paints her face; and surely
+that is enough to show what her mind is!  How Alymer could endure it, I
+don't know.  He has been used to such perfect ladies all his life, and
+the mere sight of paint should disgust him."
+
+"Of course, of course," murmured the mournful parson, who had great
+hopes of a big subscription for his Young Women's Bible Class, and was
+in two minds as to whether to regard the present moment as auspicious,
+and introduce the need of educating all young women in high and holy
+thoughts; or whether it was wiser to wait until his companion were in a
+less perturbed frame of mind.
+
+And the crocuses nodded and laughed, holding up their little yellow
+staves gaily to the sunshine, and shouting to each other that it was
+spring,  clamouring to make the most of their great day, before the
+flowers came in battalions to crowd them out of sight and mind.
+
+And the gentle little snowdrops whispered secrets to each other, which
+only themselves could hear, about warmth and sunshine and the beauty of
+the new spring world - too old in the wisdom of nature to pay any heed
+to the two humans who would rather have had a world all maxims and
+rules, and rigid straight lines from which no gladsome young hearts
+ever strayed.
+
+Finally the mournful clergyman went away without asking for his
+subscription, having made mental decision that there would be far more
+trouble to come over the painted woman, and yet more propitious
+occasion was likely to arise.
+
+And Alymer's mother went into the house with set, severe lips; and
+pulled down all the blinds that were letting in sunlight, for fear some
+of the carpets got spoiled.
+
+She did not, however, venture into the library, where her husband sat
+in a large bow window reading, with sunlight flooding all round him,
+and sunshine in his quiet eyes, and the sunshine of a great man's
+thoughts filling his mind.
+
+He was too much of a philosopher to worry about his son, and, moreover
+he knew Alymer well, and had great faith in his good sense; but he
+realised a mother would take fright more quickly, and that it was as
+well to let her have her talk with the boy, and comfort herself with
+the belief that she had saved him.  As long as she did not shut out his
+library sunlight, nor bring her pet clergyman into his sanctum, he
+found it easy to balance her sterling companionable qualities against
+certain others of a trying nature, and go serenely on his philosophical
+way.
+
+Undoubtedly Alymer was a well-selected mixture of both parents.  To his
+mother he owed his fine features and his power of resolve when he chose
+to exert it; and to his father his splendid stature, his quiet little
+humours, and the old-fashioned, courtly protectiveness that had so
+quickly won Lorraine's heart.
+
+Yet it was a mixture that might have borne no practical results if left
+to itself, but rather a retarding.
+
+As Lorraine had so clearly seen, the spur of ambition, and a resolute
+determination to succeed in other walks than that of the casual,
+charming, petted favourite of fortune, were indispensable to bring his
+traits into a harmony with each other that would achieve.
+
+It was to this end that she had given him of her best encouragement and
+help; too old and too wise not to have seen that whatever her own
+personal feelings towards him, it was extremely probable that she had
+helped him towards realising his highest promise, for some one else to
+reap the deepest joy of it.
+
+Well, at any rate she had had the interest and the companionship, and
+these had not been small things.  He had come into her life just when
+it was wearying of triumph and adulation; when lovely frocks and
+jewels, and hosts of admirers - the very things she had craved for a
+few years earlier - had commenced to pall in the light of the little
+real satisfaction to be won from them.  With some women perhaps they
+never palled.  Perhaps each fresh conquest renewed them, and each fresh
+triumph invigorated.
+
+In Lorraine's complex character, the love of success was blended with a
+love of the deeper and richer things of life.  She was of those to
+whom, at times, wide spaces, and fresh breezes, and the big, sweeping,
+elemental things call loudly, above the noise of the world of fashion;
+and she knew what it was to be filled with an aching  nausea of all she
+had practically sold her soul to win, and a yearning _nostalgia_ for
+something that might satisfy the finer instincts of her nature.
+
+And in a measure her interest in Hermon had filled the void.  Whatever
+her feeling had been in the beginning, it had undoubtedly merged now
+into a definite purpose for his good, from which she meant to eliminate
+- if the time came when he wanted to be free of her - any claim her
+heart might clamour to assert.
+
+Her dealings with him were, for the time being, on a par with the
+generous unselfishness she had shown towards her mother.  For both of
+them she found the courage and resolution to thrust herself in the
+background and give of her best as the hour required.
+
+If the friendship had been permitted to develop quietly along these
+lines, a future day might have witnessed Lorraine quite naturally
+outgrowing her infatuation, and happily satisfied with the result of
+her unwearying interest and effort; while Hermon, from his proud
+pinnacle of success, would still have felt her his best friend.
+
+But at the critical moment the blundering, disturbing hand was
+permitted to jar the harmony of the strings and spoil the melody.  To
+what end?... who knows?...  Perhaps to some unseen, mysterious
+widening, and deepening, and learning necessary to the onward march of
+Humanity towards its goal of Perfection.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+Alymer knew directly he entered the house, and saw his mother, that
+something had upset her, but he did not associate it with Lorraine, and
+kissed her with his usual warm affection.
+
+It was not until after dinner, when they were alone in the
+drawing-room, that the subject was broached, and then, with very little
+preliminary, Mrs. Hermon - bending Divine Guidance to her own will -
+made a merciless attack on "the painted woman."
+
+It was no doubt the most unwise course of action conceivable; but Mrs.
+Hermon, with her quiet and philosophical husband, and her only son, had
+led a sheltered, smoothly flowing married life, after a yet more
+sheltered girlhood, far removed from the passionate upheavals of
+society, and she had neither practical worldly knowledge nor experience
+to aid her.
+
+She told him the story that had reached her ears through the jealousy
+of a sister, whose only son was very plain, and a scapegrace, and who
+had been fiendishly glad to have an opportunity to cast a slur upon the
+doings of the successful, handsome, steady young barrister.
+
+"Douglas says he is always with her," had been her sister's conclusion
+- "and that every one is talking about it, and there is a dreadful lot
+of scandal.  I thought it was only kind to tell you, as if he goes on
+in the same way he will certainly ruin his career."
+
+Then had come the parting shot.
+
+"We all think so much of Alymer, that I would not believe such a story
+of him without proof.  Douglas said he usualy went to her flat in
+Chelsea about five, when he leaves Chambers, and I went twice to see if
+he came; and on each occasion he strode along, and swung into the
+building almost as if he lived there."
+
+Mrs. Hermon did not at first tell her son the source of her
+information, and he did not ask her.  Neither, somewhat to her
+surprise, did he attempt to exculpate himself, nor to make any denial.
+
+He stood up on the hearth with that straight, strong look he had, when
+all his faculties were acute, and heard her through to the end.  Then
+she said in a hurt voice:  " You don't deny it, Alymer.  I have been
+hoping you went to the flat on business, and there was some mistake."
+
+"I deny everything that you have implied against Miss Vivian.  The
+story of the friendship is true."
+
+His quiet self-possession seemed to disconcert her a little.  She was
+prepared for indignant denial, or angry remonstrance even; but this
+calm self-possession was something almost new to her.  True, he had
+always been calm and philosophical, like his father; but this was
+something deeper and stronger than she had yet known in him.
+
+"The fact is, mother," he went on after a pause, "you have run away
+with a totally wrong idea of Miss Vivian.    If she were the sort of
+actress you picture, you might perhaps be anxious; but all the same I
+think you might have given me credit for rather better taste."
+
+"My dear, an actress is an actress - and every one knows what that is;
+and the mere fact of her calling, or whatever you like to name it, is
+sufficient to seriously hurt your position."
+
+He smiled a little.
+
+"I dispute the dictum that every one knows whant an actress is, in the
+sweeping sense you mean.  I do not think you know, for one.  I shall
+have to try and persuade Miss Vivian to come and see you."
+
+"Indeed I hope you will do no such thing."
+
+Again he smiled.
+
+"In any case I should not succeed.  She is very proud, and would resent
+patronage even more than you."
+
+Mrs. Hermon gave a significant sniff of incredulity, but she only said:
+
+"Well, Alymer dear, you will give me a promise not to see her any more
+- won't you?"
+
+"I can't do that, mother."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It is out of the question.  For one thing, I owe too much to Miss
+Vivian; and for another, I am too fond of her."
+
+"All the more reason you should try to break off the friendship at
+once, before she has succeeded in any of her schemes to entangle you."
+
+"She has no schemes to entangle me, as you put it.  She has been a
+splendid friend.  I owe my first brief to her, and a good deal else
+beside."
+
+"Well, and no doubt you have already given her a good deal in return.
+Quite as much as she deserves.  There is no necessity for you to truin
+your whole career, just because she happens to like being seen out with
+you."
+
+There was a silence, in which Alymer seemed to be cogitating how best
+to disarm his mother's fears; and also to be reminding himself of her
+natural ignorance on theatrical matters, and his own need to be patient
+therefore.  At last he said quietly:
+
+"Miss Vivian only wants to help me in my profession; and I can only
+tell you again she has been a splendid friend to me.  Aunt Edith has
+told you a great deal of nonsense.  She has always been glad to pick
+holes in me if she could.    Most of it is lies, and you must take my
+word for it.  It is useless to discus the matter.  I am sorry you have
+been so worried, but I don't know how to make you understand."
+
+"I understand far better than you think; and I know you ought to end
+the friendship at once.  I want you to do so."
+
+"It is out of the question.  But you need not worry.  You must just
+forget.  No..." as she attempted further remonstrance; "don't go on.  I
+cannot listen to any more against Miss Vivian.  I think I will go and
+smoke a pipe with the pater.  Shall you come and sit with us?"  And a
+certain expression in his eyes that reminded her of his father in his
+most decisive moods told her he meant to say no more.  She rose at once.
+
+She had failed, and she knew it, but she had not the smallest intention
+of giving in.  She had started on the wrong tack, that was all.  Of
+course the boy was too chivalrous to go back on a friend, particularly
+as he believed he was under some obligation to her.  Her plan of
+mercilessly tearing the lady to pieces had not been a good one, but she
+would think of something else, and save him in spite of himself.
+
+And comforting herself with this reflection, she allowed the subject to
+drop, and went with him to the library.  Her next plan should be a more
+sure one.  She would work in secret with an agent to help her, who
+could see the enormity of the danger, and appreciate more thoroughly
+than his father the urgent need to interfere.    She had already a
+vague plan in her head that she believed an excellent one, and which
+she could put into execution immediately.
+
+It was an old-fashioned, time-worn plan, but Mrs. Hermon was a woman of
+old-fashioned ideas, and she did not know but that she was the
+originator.  She had not the least idea that quite the commonplace
+course of action in these questions was to send a secret emissary to
+the lady, to reason with her, or plead with her, or bribe her,
+according to her status, on behalf of the innocent young victim of her
+charms.  The great thing, she imagined, was to find a suitable agent.
+
+Now, besides the sister who was jealous, she had a bachelor brother of
+a certain well-known stamp.  A good-looking, aristocratic,
+well-preserved man of independent means;  and though over sixty years
+of age, still a gallant, with not much in his handsome head beyond a
+pathetic desire to continue to captivate, and a belief that he was as
+invincible as ever.
+
+Very shady stories had more than once been written down to his account,
+but he had the wit always to rise above them and sail serenely on to do
+more mischief.
+
+His sister rightly surmised that he would have considerable knowledge
+concerning actressess and the theatrical world, and without troubling
+to consult her husband, she took him into her confidence and unburdened
+all her trouble.
+
+"Phew!" murmured the elderly beau, "so the young scamp has got
+entangled with an actress, has he?  Shocking!... shocking!...  But
+don't worry, Ailsa; we'll soon square the lady one way or another.  Do
+you - er - happen to know if she is of the nature one can offer money
+to?"
+
+"I think not.  Alymer insists she is a lady in the real sense; though,
+if so, why did she go on the stage?"
+
+"Love of excitement, I dare say.  Is she, by any chance, a chorus girl?"
+
+"No, not exactly; though really I fail to see any difference in degree
+between one actress and another.  They are all on the stage; and no
+doubt they all paint their faces and snare good-looking young men."
+
+"No doubt," agreed the man, who had more than once made it his business
+to snare an unsuspecting, trusting girl.
+
+"And you will go to see her, and persuade her to drop him; won't you,
+Percy?  It is no use talking to his father; he does not see the matter
+in a serious enough light.  He believes Alymer will soon tire of her.
+So he may, but in the meantime she may irredeemably injure his career.
+Of course, if it is a question of money we will find it all right; but
+whatever it is, try to cut the whole matter off entirely.  Make love to
+her yourself, Percy, if that is what she wants - you know you have
+always been rather good at that sort of thing"; and she smiled at her
+own astonishing wordly wisdom, feeling almost rakish at having framed
+such a sentence.
+
+"Ah!" with a deprecatory shake of his head, that did not, however, hide
+a certain fitful gleam in his eyes, "I am getting too old for those
+kinds of pranks now, but I will do my best to - er - "  For a moment he
+wondered whether he meant to do his best to make love to the actress
+himself, or try to rescue Alymer, and finally finished: "follow out
+your wishes and suggestions."
+
+"I knew you would, Percy.  It was a good idea of mine to ask you.
+Don't mince matters at all, will you?  Make her thoroughly understand
+she has got to give him up under any circumstances, or we shall, well -
+er - take proceedings if it is possible.  Anyhow, Alymer must be
+guarded against himself, and his father is too unpractical to help, so
+we must do it alone."
+
+"I quite agree.  Alymer is an exceptionally fine fellow, with an
+exceptionally promising future; and if he cannot see for himself how
+foolish a scandal would be just at the outset, we must, as you say,
+save him on our own account.  I am fond of Alymer, very fond, and very
+proud, and I will do all in my power over the matter.  What is the
+actress's name, did you say?"
+
+"I don't think I mentioned it; but Edith told me in her letter.  I will
+look for it."
+
+She went to a writing-table, and returned with the epistle in her hand,
+glancing through it until she came to the required information, when,
+without looking up, she read, "Lorraine Vivian."
+
+At the same time a sudden, curious, startled expression crossed the
+faded eyes of the white-haired gallant, and he turned quicly aside,
+stroking  his moustache with a slightly nervous air.
+
+"Eh?  Do you mean the well-known celebrity?" he asked.  "Surely not
+Miss Vivian of the Queen's Theatre?"
+
+"I suppose so.  I never go to the theatre, so I never hear these names.
+ Edith certainly writes as if she were well known.  Does it makes any
+difference?"  she asked, as he was silent.  "Don't you want to go?  If
+you don't I must find some one else; that is all."
+
+"But certainly I will go.  I was only a little surprised.  She must be
+a good deal older than Alymer."
+
+"That only makes it worse.  No doubt she is no longer pretty enough for
+older men, so she has to set her cap at young ones, who are flattered
+by her attention.  I certainly thought Alymer had more sense - but
+there - one never knows, and these women are very clever, I believe."
+
+"D - d - I mean - extraordinarily clever; but we can be clever too, and
+I dare say we can contrive to outwit her."
+
+A little later he went away to catch a train back to town, leaving his
+sister reassured and hopeful; but as he went he repeated to himself in
+a low, incredulous voice:  "Lorraine Vivian...  Lorraine Vivian...  How
+strange that I should be asked to undertake a mission that will cause
+us to meet again.  I wonder if you will recognise me quickly?  I
+flatter myself, even white hair has not destroyed my claims to a
+woman's favour."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+Lorraine had not the smallest idea of what was coming upon her.  She
+knew perfectly well herself that it would be most unwise for a rising
+young barrister to get talked about with an actress known to have a
+husband living, and it had made her a great deal more cautious than she
+would otherwise have bothered to be.
+
+Moreover, Alymer, seeing nothing to gain by making known his mother's
+fears, preferred not to annoy her with any account of them.  To say
+that he was wholly unaffected by it, however, would be to say too much.
+ He was, indeed, exceedingly and bitterly annoyed with his interfering
+aunt, who had obviously tried to make trouble for some petty motive of
+jealousy.   He only hoped that his mother would take her line from him
+and his father, and maintain a dignified front, unmoved by his aunt's
+tale-bearing gossip.
+
+He was slightly affected in another way also.  It was almost the first
+time he had seriously considered what the world might say if their
+great friendship was known.  He knew it well enough to believe it would
+be in haste to put the worst construction on it, though their own
+immediate friends might stand by them loyally.
+
+It caused him to consider that construction in a light he had hitherto
+been protected from by circumstances, for it thrust forward an aspect
+they had successfully kept in the background.  It made him ask the
+question, What was he prepared to do if his aunt continued her
+persecution, and some sort of change had to be made in the friendly,
+delightful intercourse?
+
+He wondered a good deal what Lorraine's own attitude would be.  Would
+she, perhaps, now that she had given him his start, cut all the
+friendship off for his good, and return to her old friends and
+admirers?  He shrank from the contemplation of such a solution
+undisguisedly, and meant to continue their pleasant relations if
+possible.
+
+He certainly wished no change whatever, if it could be avoided.
+Lorraine meant everything to him just then, and he could not but know
+how much his companionship and affection had come to mean to her.
+
+So the next day he paid his customary visit, and talked as usual of
+many things, but said no word of what had passed the previous night.
+
+Lorraine's room was full of violets and snowdrops, cushions of them on
+every side, in lovely array.  He moved about looking at them, and she
+watched him from a low chair by the fire, clad in some new spring gown
+of an exquisite mauve shade, that seemed to tone with the
+violet-bedecked room.
+
+It gave her dark eyes something of a violet tint, and her hands looked
+as white and delicate as the snowdrops.  Moving about from mass of
+blossoms, Alymer, glancing at her, thought she looked younger and
+lovelier than ever.
+
+"You have a spring air about you," he said, "and all the room seems
+full of spring.  There is something about it all I like better than the
+lilies and roses and malmaisons usually making a display."
+
+"I sent them all to the dining-room," she told him.  "Every spring is
+such a beautiful new thing, it has to be allowed to reign supreme for a
+little while in here.  It gives me rather an ache to see them, all the
+same" - after a pause - "they make me dream of the smell of the new
+woodland, that delicious, damp, earthy smell of spring, and all the
+young, joyful bursting of buds and springing of seeds and the mating
+birds, and the showers that make the leaves glisten.  I feel as if I
+should like to tramp out across the country in such a shower, and get
+healthily wet, and be a real bit of the spring for just one week."
+
+"Why don't you go?  You are not looking very well, and the country air
+would probably do you no end of good."
+
+"I don't want to go alone, and I do not know who I could take.  Hal is
+not able to leave, and mother would merely be bored to tears, and Flip
+Denton is at Monte Carlo.  There is no one really but you and Hal and
+Flip who would fit in with my spring mood.  Any one else would strike a
+discordant note."
+
+"I wish I could come."
+
+The wish escaped him almost involuntarily, as, with the sight of the
+spring flowers and the spring scent in his nostrils, he too felt the
+call of the fresh, wild, vigorous things in his blood.
+
+Lorraine looked at him with a curious expression on her face.  Why, she
+wondered, did he not seriously contemplate coming?  Why did he so
+steadily pursue, as far as she was concerned, his serene and
+passionless path?  She believed he cared more for her than for any one
+else; and, if so, was it possible the ache sometimes in her heart for a
+closer bond and resolutely strangled, had no counterpart in his hot,
+vigorous youth?
+
+Then he looked suddenly into her eyes, as if to see whether she had
+heard his wish, and what she thought of it.  And as their gaze met, she
+saw the blood mantle to his face, and a half-shamed expression creep
+into it, as if he had been discovered in a thought that should never
+have been permitted.
+
+He looked away again to the flowers, and Lorraine turned her eyes to
+the fire, with a swift wonder in her mind.  She felt that something had
+transpired since they last parted - something she did not know of, and
+that was entirely different to anything that had crossed their path
+before.  Some new thought had been put into his mind.  Something that
+made him give her that half-shy, half-wondering look.
+
+She gazed hard at the fire, and her pulses began to beat a little
+fitfully.  She knew instinctively that something had come suddenly into
+being between them, which neither might name, and which was the oldest
+thing in the world.
+
+And then across her mind, as once before, swept with swift pitilessness
+a vision of what might have been; of what life might have held for her
+had she been among the blessed - an aching, tearing longing for a
+youthful hour she had irretrievably missed.  She drew her hand across
+her eyes, ignoring his presence, shutting him out, seeing only the
+heavenly joy she had missed.
+
+Supposing such a moment had come to her with such a man, when she, like
+him, was in the first flush of youth and beauty; of dreams and hopes,
+and rich believing.  What a knight for a lovely maid!  What a lover to
+dream of bashfully and fearfully; and with all her soul one thought of
+him.
+
+From her vantage ground of much doing and much knowing, she looked back
+yearningly to the bloom and springtide of life, when all splendid
+things are possible, and any day may bring the splendid knight.
+
+And instead had come... ah, what?
+
+Well!  For her it had been the wolf in sheep's clothing, who, beside
+all he had robbed her of, had taken all her chance of the one great
+awakening to blinding joy.  Now she could only look upon the joy from
+afar, seeing a barrier of fateful years, and, like a drawn sword at the
+gate of her dream, the stern, unyielding decree that has echoed
+unchanged down the long centuries: "Thou shalt not - "
+
+Alymer was silent too, standing with the thoughtful expression on his
+face that was so attractive, probing a little nervously into that wish
+he had expressed, and wondering a little uncertainly just what it meant.
+
+Then Lorraine got up.
+
+"You are grave, _mon ami_; and it is the springtime.  Grave thoughts
+are for the autumn of life - recklessness better becomes the joyful
+spring."
+
+"Are you ever reckless nowadays?" he asked, watching her graceful
+movements as she bent down and buried her face in a cushion of violets.
+
+"I am when I smell violets.  They may be modest and retiring little
+flowers, but they hold spring rapture and spring lavishness and spring
+desiring in their scent all the same."
+
+"Then you are reckless now?"
+
+What was it made him dally thus upon dangerous ground?  What was it
+made him speak to Lorraine as he had never spoken before, on the very
+day after his mother's  admonition?  Why did his immense height and
+strength and the young vigour in his blood suddenly blot out the years
+that lay between them, and sweep into his soul, the knowledge of his
+masculinity and might, which of its own nature possessively dominated
+her femininity?
+
+They seemed all at once to have strayed into an atmosphere, born of
+that warning admonition, and of their talk, of the reckless, creative
+spring; and because, in spite of his youth, he was very much a man, and
+she was a dangerously attractive woman, his pulses leapt fitfully and
+eagerly with the swift ache that has existed ever since God made man
+and woman.
+
+Without looking up, Lorraine felt this.  The very air about them seemed
+charged with it, and she too, under some spell of springtime, moved
+into closer proximity to the splendid knight.  She brushed against his
+arm unconsciously; and looking down on the top of her dark head, he
+said half-shyly:
+
+"You somehow seem such a little thing to-day, Lorraine, I feel as if I
+could pick you up, as one does a small child."
+
+"Please don't," with a low laugh - "just think of my dignity."
+
+"But you are not dignified to-day.  You seem as young and light-hearted
+as the springtime.  I feel as if I must be years older than you."
+
+She raised her face suddenly, with yearning eyes:
+
+"Oh, let us emulate the spring this once - let us both be young and
+foolish and real, and pretend there isn't any one else in the world."
+
+Fore one second he looked at her with wondering incredulity, then, with
+a tender little laugh he suddenly bent down and folded his arms round
+her till she seemed to vanish altogether into his embrace, and kissed
+her on the lips.
+
+"The scent of violets has intoxicated us," he said, and kissed her
+again.
+
+Then he gently pushed her into her big, deep chair.
+
+"I'm going now.  I only ran in to see how you were after that bad
+headache.  You must bring the lilies and malmaisons back to-morrow, or
+I shall be offending so grievously you will forbid me the flat.
+Good-bye!"  And without another word he went away out of the room.
+
+Lorraine sat quite still, and let the spell wrap her round for the
+precious moments that she could yet hold it.  Of course it could not
+stay.  In an hour at most she would be her old, brain-weary self again,
+with the best of her youth behind her; while he was still there on the
+treshold, young and strong and free.  But even this one short hour was
+good.  Life had not given her many such.  She would fence it round with
+silence, and solitude, and the scent of violets.
+
+Alymer went out into the streets wondering at himself vaguely, and yet
+with a pleasant glow of memory.  He felt it bewildering that Lorraine
+Vivian, whose favours were so eagerly sought by men, should have
+allowed him to kiss her.
+
+It seemed something apart altogether from her generous friendship and
+helpful influence.  It made him pleased with himself, and filled his
+mind with a yet greater tenderness to her.  He knew so much now of her
+early difficulties and following troubles - of the frivolous,
+unprincipled mother, and the long, uphill fight.  She had honoured him
+with her confidence in spite of his youth, and now -
+
+He quickened his steps, and his pulses leapt yet more fitfully.  Spring
+was in the air and in his blood, and one of the recognised beauties of
+London had been gracious to him beyond all dreaming.
+
+It was enough for the present hour.  Why ask any inconvenient questions
+and spoil it all?  Let the future look after itself.
+
+Only one thought for a moment cast a little shadow upon his ardour.  It
+crossed his mind, for no accountable reason, to wonder what Hal would
+think.  He was a little afraid she would strongly disapprove.
+
+But, after all, if she did, what matter?  He owed nothing to Hal, and
+there was no reason why her views should disturb him in the least.  Of
+course it did not...  and yet...  Hal's good opinion was a thing worth
+having; and, in short, he hoped she would not know.
+
+It was not that she was straight-laced.  She was too near the heart of
+humanity through her daily toil to be other than a generous judge; but
+she was also a creature of ideals for herself and for those who would
+be among her best friends; and she would have known unerringly that no
+great, consuming love had drowned his reason and filled his senses.
+
+It was for that she would have judged him; and for that he would have
+stood before her direct gaze ashamed.  One might be gay and
+irresponsible and merry, but there were just one or two things which
+must not be allowed in that category.  Instinctively, he knew that in
+Hal's view he would have transgressed - not because he felt too much,
+but because he felt too little to be justified.
+
+But why need she know?  Why need any one know?  He did not think his
+mother would follow up any further the story she had been told, and he
+would see his aunt about it personally.  It was better to have it out
+with her, lest she took upon herself to interview Lorraine, and make
+more trouble still.
+
+He ran up the stairs to the flat, two steps at a time; and scrambled to
+get changed for the dinner to which he was going, still feeling a
+pulsing thrill that, among all men, he was Lorraine Vivian's chosen
+friend.
+
+In another flat - a bachelor one in Ryder Street - an elderly beau,
+likewise dressed for a dinner-party, though with the utmost care and
+precision, instead of a scramble.  And to himself he said, as he took a
+long, last look at the image he loved:
+
+"I must go to-morrow morning and settle this little matter about
+Alymer.  No doubt Lorraine will be amazed to see how well-preserved I
+am.  She cannot have any real feeling for such a boy, and, after all, a
+good-looking man of the world - "
+
+He smiled to himself as over a thought that pleased him, and rang for
+his servant to go out and hail a taxi.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+It was not difficult for Alymer to persuade himself that a little
+diplomacy on his part would probably assuage his aunt's wish to upset
+his friendship, and incidentally allay his mother's fears; but, as it
+happened no one having his welfare so exceedingly at heart over this
+matter with the actress was in any degree as amenable or as quietly
+pacified as he imagined.
+
+Another interview took place between his mother and his aunt, in which
+the latter advised writing to Miss Vivian direct to tell her what his
+father and mother thought of the friendship, and that an uncle of his
+would call upon her at once.
+
+To say that the letter was an insult is to put it mildly, though at the
+same time it was not so much through intention as ignorance.
+
+Lorraine read it with silent amazement, and thought the writer must be
+mad.  It seemed quite incredible that any lady in the twentieth century
+should apparently be so ignorant concerning the status of a celebrated
+actress.  It was evidently taken for granted that she was an
+adventuress of the worst type.
+
+She was naturally somewhat angry and indignant, but decided it was not
+worth while to take any notice, and merely awaited with some curiosity
+the visit of the uncle who was to expostulate with her, and,
+practically, offer her terms.
+
+He came at about twelve o'clock, and he did not give his name, merely
+asking to see Miss Vivian on a matter of business.
+
+Lorraine dressed with special care, and looked her best when she
+quietly entered the drawing-room. She gave an order to her maid with
+the door half opened, in the most casual and imperturbed of voices,
+then she came siowly in, closed the door behind her, and advanced
+towards the figure standing on the hearth.
+
+When she had taken two steps she stood still suddenly, and in a voice
+that was rasping and harsh, exclaimed:
+
+"_You!_ - "
+
+Alymer's uncle squared his shoulders, stroked his white moustache with
+a gallant air, and replied:
+
+"Yes - er - Lorraine. We meet again, you see. I may say - er - I am
+very glad indeed that it is so," and he advanced a step with
+outstretched hand.
+
+But Lorraine was rooted to the spot where she stood, and a sudden,
+sharp fierceness seemed to burn in her eyes.
+
+"Have-_you_-come-about-Alymer-Hermon?" she asked in slow, cutting
+tones, as if each word was hammered out of a seething whirlpool of
+suppressed emotions.
+
+"Alymer is my nephew, and his mother asked me to come and - er - talk
+to you about him. She is a good deal perturbed on his behalf - er -
+because -"
+
+"I do not want to know any more than I am able to gather from the
+extraordinary epistle I received from her this morning. What I should
+like to know is, did you agree to come here on this errand, knowing who
+I was?"
+
+The faded blue eyes of the carefully dressed old rou� began to look
+uncomfortably from one object to another; anywhere, indeed, but into
+those scorching orbs, with their suppressed fires.
+
+Then he took his courage in his hands, and tried again.
+
+"My dear Lorraine, you seem to be taking rather a theatrical view of a
+very commonplace matter. Of course it is bad for the boy to get mixed
+up in a scandal, just at the beginning of his career, or, for the
+matter of that, talked about with a celebrated actress whose husband is
+known to be living somewhere. I have come to you as a man of the world,
+to ask you as a woman of the world to be generous in the matter, and
+help me to set the minds of his parents at rest at once - "
+
+"Ah! It was as a man of the world you came to me before ; but then I -
+I "-she gave a low, unpleasant laugh -"  I wasn't a woman of the world,
+you see, until you had taught me, and left me."
+
+He did not quite know what the laugh meant, but now his old eyes were
+roaming over the beauty that was yet hers, and memory was stirring, and
+something made him reckless.
+
+"Don't speak of it like that," he pleaded drawing a little nearer.  "I
+know I didn't perhaps treat you quite well; but if there are any amends
+I can make now? - If you will let us be friends again? - "
+
+"Amends - amends. What do I want with amends from such as you ?"  And
+her eyes flashed dangerously.  He retreated quickly, with a hurt,
+rather cowed expression.
+
+"Well, Fate has thrown us together again and I am still a bachelor -
+and I have money -"
+
+"Do please try not to insult me any further."
+
+Lorraine had grown calmer, though the dangerous look was still in her
+eyes, and she moved away to the window, leaving a large space between
+them, and half-turned her back to him.
+
+"I have already burnt the epistle I received from Mrs. Hermon - its
+insults were too utterly foolish to notice.  You may go back and tell
+her her son has never received any harm from me, and I absolutely
+decline to discuss the question any further. As for yourself - you will
+doubtless find a taxi on the rank, just outside."
+
+"But, my dear lady, I cannot go back leaving the matter like that."
+
+He grew emboldened again, now that he could not see her eyes.
+
+"I am here to plead on Alymer's behalf. If you are fond of him, you
+must at least listen to reason for his sake."
+
+"Not from you. And who are his people that they dare to treat me like
+this? . . .  First an insulting letter, and then an emissary such as
+you - "
+
+"Alymer is my nephew, and his mother is my sister, and therefore I am a
+most suitable emissary, except for a certain incident of long ago,
+which has long been consigned to oblivion by both of us, I am sure. The
+boy is
+young. He is on the threshold of life and a great career.  What will be
+the result, do you think, if you refuse to listen, and perhaps ruin his
+prospects for your own pleasure ?"
+
+She turned back to him a moment, and the smouldering fires leaped up.
+
+"I was young. I was on the treshold of life. What did you care for my
+youth or my future?  What do other men like you care?  My mother was
+lax, and you knew it.  I believe you gave her diamonds. And now you
+come to me and ask me to spare your nephew - _you_ come - _you!_..."
+and the scorn in her voice lashed him like a stinging whip.
+
+But lie tried valiantly to stand his ground, though all his fine attire
+and air of bravado could not save his visible shrinking into a faded,
+dissipated, worthless-looking old rogue.
+
+"If you won't listen to any plea from me, will you permit me to make
+one from his mother, and appeal to the woman in you to realise her
+anxiety ?"
+
+Lorraine turned again to the window and looked out upon the silver,
+shining river.  And suddenly it was as though all her soul rose up in
+arms.  She felt with swift passion that it seemed to matter so much in
+the world that a young man with a promising future should not run any
+risk of harm from an older woman.
+
+But if it was a young woman, and an older man, what did it matter then
+! Why, the very man who would have hurt her could allow himself to
+plead for another young thing, if that other were a man.
+
+Doubtless he would argue, as all the rest of them, that years in men
+craved the freshness and revivifying of youth it was only natural, and
+a woman mattered so much less.  But the mature woman herself, she has
+no right to indulge in any longing for that same freshness and
+revivifying.
+
+Ten years ago this man had been lust at the age, and with just the
+handsome, aristocratic appearance, in spite of iron-grey hair, that so
+often attracts a girl in the early twenties. She scorns boys at that
+age, and feels the compliment of being chosen by a man of the world
+before the
+many older women she cannot choose but see would gladly be in her
+place. That it is her youth and not herself that holds the attraction
+is unknown to her, and a clever man may often dupe her young affections.
+
+Lorraine, with her romantic, imaginative temperament, had grown to
+believe herself in love with him, and then had followed the old, sordid
+story of insult and her consequent disillusionment.  The memories stung
+her now
+with a bitter stinging heightened by the feeling that life cared so
+much more for Alymer's welfare than it had ever done for hers.
+
+And then that appeal to her woman's feeling to sympathise with the
+perturbed mother.
+
+Well, because she was his mother, surely she was blessed enough. What
+had she - Lorraines - to place against that great fact ? She felt
+painfully that in spite of her success her life was pitifully,
+hopelessly barren, scarred this way and that, torn and rent and damaged
+by mistake upon mistake which could never now be rectified.
+
+A nausea of it all made her feel in those tense moments, gazing at the
+serenely flowing river, that had she a child she would be borne away on
+the smooth silver water with her little one, out of the fret and
+turmoil, to some quiet nest in the cliffs at its mouth ; and there for
+the years that
+were left her she would fill her days with the peaceful, homely joys
+that had never yet been hers.
+
+But how could she go alone?  Only in the uneventful days to find her
+loneness intensified a thousand times, and without escape.
+
+No; the river would flow on to that serene haven; but never for ever
+would she and a little one of her own be borne on its motherly bosom to
+the country of little things and peacefulness.
+
+And the thought only stung her afresh; driving the sting in deep and
+sharp while this man remained under her roof.
+
+"Well," he said at last; and in the interval his voice seemed to have
+regained some of its polished, self-possessed satisfaction.  "I see you
+are deep in thought.  You were always tender-hearted, and I felt I
+should not appeal to your womans heart in vain."
+
+Her face was turned away, so that he could not see her expression, nor
+read what was in her eyes, and purposely she let him go on.
+
+"You will, I know, let me go back with the message Mrs. Hermon is
+waiting for so anxiously.  It will be quite simple.  No doubt you have
+countless admirers, and if you summon another, and let Alymer think he
+is replaced, after the first hot-headed wrath he will quickly become
+normal again, and apply all his faculties to his profession.  I know
+you are too clever not too appreciate just everything involved, and too
+generous not to give the young man his best chance."
+
+Then he cleared his throat, stroked his moustache, and waited,
+wondering a little why she did not speak.  He squared his shoulders
+again, and glanced round to catch a reflection of himself in the
+overmantel, then once more
+stroked his moustache with a sleek air of growing satisfaction.
+
+It had certainly been a most ticklish undertaking, and but for his
+diplomacy, he believed one foredoomed to failure. But of course
+Lorraine was a woman of the world, with a larger mixture of the other
+kind of womanliness, perhaps, than was usual, and he in his
+perspicacity had deftly appealed to both.
+
+Then Lorraine turned round, and at the first glimpse of her face his
+own fell, and suddenly he seemed to be shrinking visibly; as if he
+would not ungladly have vanished through the floor.
+
+She took a step or two forward, and stood in front of him with her head
+held high, and those same scorching fires in her eyes ; and there was
+something almost over-awing in the taut intensity of her whole
+attitude, mental and physical.
+
+"No," she said, in a cold, firm voice.  "You may not go back and tell
+Alymer's mother that I agree to cease my friendship with him for you
+and for her.  You may go back and tell her that because when I was
+young you had no thought of my future, and no consideration for my
+youth, I refuse absolutely to parley in the matter at all.  I shall not
+change my course of action by one iota.  I shall not take any single
+thought for the future. The future may take care of itself.  If you can
+estrange Alymer from me,
+that is your affair.  Rather than estrange him myself, I will bind him
+closer.
+That is my answer to you, and to the _lady_," with fine scorn, " who
+sat down yesterday and penned that unheard-of letter to a fellow-woman
+she knew nothing whatever against.  Yet I think I could have charged
+that to her evident ignorance concerning theatrical matters, and
+forgiven her, if a monstrous irony had not sent you to plead her cause
+- "
+
+"My dear Lorraine," he interposed, but she stopped him with an
+imperious gesture and continued:
+
+"There is nothing for you to say, nothing that I am in the least likely
+to listen to.  You have evidently mis-understood my character from
+first to last.  Probably you even credited me with wantonness in those
+far-off days when I was fool enough to believe all you swore to me of
+love and devotion.  However that may be, you tried to set my feet in
+the wrong path, and when it suited you, gave me a push that further
+evil might conveniently widen the breach between us.  Probably you have
+done much the same again since, and with as little compunction.  What I
+have to say to you now is just this, once again.  Your mission to-day
+is not merely useless; it has considerably aggravated any danger there
+may have been.  Because of every girl a middle-aged man has treated as
+you sought to treat me I shall hold Alymer to his friendship if I can,
+and use any influence I may have to increase rather
+than decrease his visits.
+
+"It may be fiendish of me. I don't know. I am no angel ; not even the
+obliging soft-hearted fool you and Alymer's mother seem to have
+concluded I might be.  And what is more, if I had a vein of kindliness
+and unselfish
+consideration, you have done your utmost to stamp it out.
+"Most of us are half good, and half bad.  To-day, you have given the
+devil in me an impetus such as it has seldom had before.  That is your
+affair. Go back and explain the real truth if you dare.  Tell Mrs.
+Hermon you found
+the low adventuress a devil, and one that you yourself had tried to
+help to make.  Tell her " - again with that low, unpleasant laugh - "
+that you fear the worst for Alymer.
+That is all. Now you can go."
+
+Once more he futilely tried to speak, but she only waved him aside, and
+walked with a haughty, scornful step ahead of him.
+
+"Jean," she called to her maid, as she passed through the little hall,
+"Will you open the door for this gentleman?"
+
+In her own room, she slid down into a large cushioned chair and sobbed
+her heart out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+It was there Hal found her.  By the merest chance she had run up to the
+flat at her midday hour, to ask a question about Sir Edwin Crathie. and
+a rumour concerning him that she felt an imperative need to have
+answered. When she saw Lorraine in tears the question was instantly
+banished for the moment.
+
+Had Lorraine been in her normal condition, she could hardly have failed
+to notice that the "Hal" who came up in haste to ask this urgent
+question was not the "Hal" of a few months, a few weeks ago.  She would
+probably
+have observed that the vague, indefinable change Alymer had seen in her
+had grown more marked anti more defined.
+
+She seemed to have sprung suddenly into womanhood.
+
+It was no light-hearted, careless, rather boisterous girl who appeared
+unexpectedly at the flat, to give her one or two eager hugs, tell her
+the latest news of her doings in gay, gossipy fashion, and eat an
+unconscionable amount of chocolates, usually kept for her special
+delectation.
+
+The old, bright look was there on the surface, the ready, laughing
+speech, but there was also, with it, something that approached a
+dignified phase, and suggested a new reserve.  She was also distinctly
+better-looking likewise, in some vague, incomprehensible way.
+
+But Lorraine had not time to take any note of the change, for all her
+faculties were bent upon shielding herself.
+
+Of course it was useless to hide that she had been crying, but at least
+Hal must not know that the crying had been soul-racking sobs.
+
+With a look of consternation and dismay she, Hal, was across the room
+in a bound, kneeling beside the big chair.
+
+"My dear old girl, what in the world is the matter ?"
+
+Lorraine contrived to smile with some appearance of reality, as she
+dried her eyes, and said:
+
+"I don't quite know.  It's idiotic of me, isn't it?  If you hadn't come
+and stopped me, I should never have been able to appear to-night for
+swollen eyes."
+
+But Hal was not so easily put off.  She grasped both Lorraine's hands
+in hers and said resolutely:
+
+"Why are you crying, Lorry?"
+
+Feeling it hopeless to avoid some sort of a reason, she replied:
+
+"I had a letter this morning that upset me rather.  It is silly of me
+to take any notice, and I shouldn't if I were well.  I've been
+wretchedly nervy lately, and it makes me silly about things."
+
+"What was the letter about?"
+
+"Oh, only some one who is jealous, I suppose; trying to get a little
+satisfaction out of saying a few things that may hurt me.  It is so
+silly of me to mind."
+
+Hal's mind immediately flew to Mrs. Vivian, and instead of inquiring
+any further she just said:
+
+"Poor old Lorry," and kissed her affectionately.
+
+Then with a little laugh:
+
+"I suppose you weren't going to have any lunch at all, but I'm
+frightfully hungry.  I hope to goodness there is something in the
+house."
+
+"Run and tell Jean to see cook about it, there's a dear.  I must bathe
+my eyes and try to look presentable."
+
+While they lunched Hal chatted of many things, but she noted that
+Lorraine was looking thin, and seemed to have something on her mind,
+while she made no attempt to eat what was placed on her plate.
+
+When she was pulling her gloves on later she asked:
+
+"Why don't von take a week's holiday and go into the country, Lorry?...
+It is no use going on until you are ill, as you did before."
+
+"I think I must ask about it.  I feel as if one week would do me a
+world of good.  How is Sir Edwin?   Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"We played golf on Saturday."
+
+A white look came suddenly into Hal's face, and she riveted her
+attention on an apparently tiresome fastener as she asked, with the
+greatest show of unconcern she could muster, the question that brought
+her there.
+
+"Have you heard a rumour that he is going to marry Miss Bootes?" naming
+one of the richest heiresses cf the day.
+
+"No; I hadn't heard it."
+
+Lorraine gave a quick glance at her face, but saw only the look of
+concentration on the fractious fastener.
+
+"Well," Hal said in level tones, " I suppose she is worth about half a
+million, and I don't think he is rich."
+
+"Probably he has only been seen speaking to her, or taking her to
+supper at a big reception .  That would be quite enough to make some
+people link them at once, and fix the date of the wedding."
+
+"There's a bun-fight at the Bruces' to-night," Hal ran on, "with Llaney
+to play the violin, and Lascelles to sing - quite an elaborate affair :
+so it is sure to be very boring ; but I suppose Alymer will be there,
+looking adorably beautiful, and all the women gazing at him.  It will
+be entertaining to chaff him, anyhow."
+
+"Well, don't tell him you found nie weeping," with a little laugh. " He
+might not realise it was only nerves."
+
+"I'll tell him he's to take you away for a week's holiday," Hal replied
+lightly.  " Goodness knows, you've done enough for him."
+
+She went back to the office and settled down to her work with resolute
+determination, but any one who knew her well would have seen that some
+cloud seemed to have descended upon her, and that all the time she
+stuck to her work she was wrestling to appear normal, in the face of
+some enshrouding worry.
+
+Through all the letter she was writing, and over the proofs she read to
+aid the chief, there seemed to be one sentence dancing in letters of
+glee, like a war-dance executed by little black devils on the foolscap
+of her mind.
+
+It was last night she had heard it, that ominous piece of news that
+took her violently by surprise, in spite of her practical common sense.
+ Some one had said it quite casually in the motor bus - one man to
+another, as an item of news of the day.
+
+"They say Sir Edwin Crathie is to marry Miss Bootes the heiress:
+
+"What!  The Right Honourable Sir Edwin Crathie?"
+
+" So they say.  He's very heavily in debt, I believe - over some bad
+speculations - and an heiress is about the only thing to float him.
+Besides, the party wants rich men, and it would be a good move on his
+part."
+
+That was all, and then the two silk-hatted, frock-coated men had got
+out. Eminently well-to-do men - probably both stockbrokers, but men who
+looked as if they would know.
+
+Hal had gone on home in a sudden torment of feeling.  Of course he was
+free to marry the heiress if be wished, but why, if so, had he dared
+once again to drop the mask of companiable friendliness with her and
+grow lover-like?
+
+The change had been coming slowly of late, wrought with infinite
+caution and care.  He had not meant to frighten her again, and find
+himself in disgrace, so he had taken each step very leisurely, and made
+sure of his ground before trusting himself upon it.  The next time he
+kissed her, he had determined she should like it too well to resent his
+action.
+
+And the safe moment, as he deemed it, had come the previous Saturday
+after a delightful afternoon at golf.  They had motored down to the
+Sundridge Park Links, and stayed afterwards to dine at the club-house,
+then back to Bloomsbury, and into the pretty sitting-room, where Dudley
+was not likely to appear until late, because he had gone to a theatre
+with Doris.
+
+And then forthe second time he had kissed her.
+
+But this was quite a different kiss.  It was a climax to one of the
+best days he had ever had - a day in which, besides playing golf, they
+had talked of State secrets and State affairs.  He had paid her the
+compliment of talking to her as if she were a man, and Hal, being
+exceptionally well informed on most questions of the day, was able to
+hold her own with him, and to make the conversation of genuine interest.
+
+And his quick, observant brain greatly admired her power of argument,
+and her woman's directness of method, confirming the view that while a
+an usually indulges in a good deal of preamble, with many doubts and
+side-lights, a woman trusts to her instinct and arrives at the same
+conclusion in half the time.  Of late, too, he had talked to her of
+interesting modern problems; and what had been frivolous in their
+earlier friendshipm had solidified into a real companionship.
+
+And now as he stood on the hearth with his back to the fire, looking
+with rather critical eyes round the pretty room that Hal had contrived
+to rob of nearly all its lodging-house aspect, she stood quite
+naturally and unconcernedly beside him drawing off her gloves.
+
+"It was a good game," she was saying, "if you had not messed up that
+sixth hole.  It's a brute, isn't it.  I was lucky to escape that marshy
+bit."
+
+"You are getting too good for me.  Your drives out-classed mine nearly
+every time."
+
+"But I can't approach.  I never, never, shall be able to hit a ball
+just far enough.  If I loft on to the green at all it is always the far
+side, with a roll."
+
+"You'll soon master that.  A little more practice, and you'll be in
+form for matches.  I think  we'll have to go away somewhere and have a
+fortnight's golfing!  Why not to some little French place?  You would
+finish up a first-class player."
+
+Hal laughed lightly.
+
+"Just imagine Brother Dudley's face when I told him I was going to
+France for a fortnight with you!"
+
+"You wouldn't have to tell him anything about me," watching her with a
+sudden keenness in his eyes.  "I should have to be personated by Miss
+Vivian or some one."
+
+"Oh, I dare say Lorry would come for the matter of that.  We might
+teach her to play too."
+
+"Well, I hardly meant she should actually be there," he went on in a
+meaning voice.  "She'd be rather in the way, wouldn't she?  I don't
+know that I could do with any one else but you."
+
+He stepped closer to her, and slipped his arm round her shoulders.  "A
+third person will always be in the way when I am with you, Hal."
+
+She changed colour, and breathed fitfully, moving as if to disengage
+herself from his arm.
+
+"No, don't go.  This is very harmless, and I've been exceedingly good
+for a long time, now, haven't I?"
+
+"All the greater pity to spoil your record," putting up her hand to
+remove his.
+
+But he only clasped her fingers tightly, and drew her closer, till he
+could feel her heart palpitating a little wildly; and that gave him
+courage.
+
+"It has been far harder than you have the remotest idea of.  I deserve
+one kiss, if only by way of encouragement."
+
+His face was close to hers now, and with a little murmuring sound of
+gladness he kissed her cheek.
+
+"Little woman," he murmured, "I've grown desperately fond of you.  I
+hardly know how to do without you.  Be a sensible little girl, won't
+you?"
+
+She disengaged herself resolutely then, but she was not angry, and her
+eyes were shining.
+
+"You are transgressing flagrantly - as I should express it in a
+newspaper report.  Collect your forces, and retire gracefully, O
+transgressor."
+
+"I suppose I really must go now.  It's been such a splendid day, hasn't
+it?"
+
+He seemed to speak with a shadow of regret; and there was a shadow of
+regret in his eyes also as he riveted them on her face.  Then he turned
+suddenly and picked up his cap.
+
+"Well - the best of friends must part - and the best of days come to an
+end.  Good-bye, little girl."
+
+With his cap in his hand, he suddenly put both his arms round her and
+kissed her with the old passionate eagerness - then he loosed her and
+turned to the door.
+
+"I'm in love with you, Hal - head over ears in love; but it's a
+devilish hard world, and Heaven only knows what's to come of it."
+
+With which enigmatical sentence he let himself out and departed.
+
+When he had gone Hal stood quite still where he had left her, and
+looked into vacancy.  About her lips there was the ghost of a smile.
+In her ears was only the recollection of the words, "I'm head over ears
+in love with you."
+
+So, it was coming at last - the great, glad day of love and fulfilment.
+ If he had set out to trifle with her at first, at least he was serious
+enough now.  She, too, had only trifled in the beginning, seizing a
+little fun and adventure in her workaday world.  There had been no
+reason to suppose it need hurt any one.  Now, she, too, was serious.
+
+Perhaps the things detrimental to him that she had heard previously had
+some truth in them then, but he was changed now.  Love had changed him.
+ He was like another man.  She had seen and felt it in a thousand ways
+that could not be translated into speech or writing.  It was just that
+he was different, and in every particular it was to his advantage.
+
+She was different too.  She did not resent the kiss, because she knew
+that he honestly cared for her.  Ans she knew, too, that she honestly
+cared for him.  The end of the enigmatical sentence rankled a little,
+but she did not led herself dwell upon it.
+
+She chose instead  to remember how he had kissed her; and that he had
+confessed he was head over ears in love with her.  Which only showed
+that Hal - for all her worldly wisdom and practical common sense -
+could be as blind and as romantic ans any one when her heart was
+touched, and her pulses romping feverishly at a memory that thrilled
+all her being.
+
+Three days later she had heard the conversation.
+
+Of course it was absurd - manifestly so - and yet an yet -
+
+After a miserable twenty-four hours of fighting against her own
+uneasiness, she paid the flying visit to Lorraine, to see if she could
+glean any light on the gossip from her, only to return to the office
+baffled and tormented.
+
+It was the enigmatical sentence that pressed forward now, instead of
+the thrilling confession that he loved her.  Was it possible he was
+indeed so base as to love her and tell her in the very same week that
+he had asked another woman to be his wife?
+
+And if so, what had prompted him?  What was in his mind?  Why had he
+not left things as they were, and refrained both from the kiss and the
+confession?
+
+And then above her tortured feelings rose the triumphant thought,
+goading and pleasing at the same time: "Whether it is true or not, he
+loves _me_ - not her, the heiress, but me - Hal Pritchard - the
+peniless City worker."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+
+In the evening came the party at Dick Bruce's home, and it was
+necessary, she knew, to thrustl all recollection of Sir Edwin aside, in
+order to give rise to no questioning and appear as usual.
+
+So she dressed herself with special care, rubbed a pink tinge on to her
+white cheeks, bathed and refreshed eyes dulled by worry and shadows,
+and made her appearance, looking, inf anything, a little more radiant
+than usual.
+
+"By Jove! you look stunning, Hal," was her jovial uncle's warm
+greeting.  "Who'd ever have thought, to see the ugly little imp of a
+small child you were, that you would grow up into a fashionable,
+striking woman?  I congratulate you.  When's the happy man coming
+along?"
+
+"When I'm tired to enjoying of myself," she laughed, "and feel equal to
+coping with anything as trying as a husband.  At present a brother
+keeps me quite sufficiently occupied, "and she passed on.
+
+Across the large, well-lit room, towering above every one around him,
+she saw the head and shoulders of Alymer Hermon.  All about her, as she
+moved towards him, she heard the low-voiced query: "Who is he?"
+
+No society beauty at her zenith could have caused greater interest.  He
+was looking grave, too, and thoughtful, which suited him better than
+laughter, giving him something of a look apart, and banishing all
+suggestion of the conceit and self-satisfaction that would have spoilt
+him.  Then he caught sight of Hal, and instantly all his face lit up,
+and a twinkle shone in his eyes as he edged towards her.
+
+"How late you are!  I thought you were never coming.  Did your hair
+require an extra half-hour?  I suppose you've been tearing it out by
+the roots over your faithless swain."
+
+"I don't know what you mean, and anyhow I shouldn't be such a fool as
+to tear my own hair out by the roots for any one.  If hair is coming
+out in that fashion, it shall be his roots."
+
+"Come and sit down.  I'll soon find you a chair."
+
+"What's the good of that?  We can't converse unless you sit on the
+floor.  I work too hard to spend my evening shouting banalities at the
+ceiling."
+
+"Well, let's hunt for a couch; there are plenty here on ordinary
+occasions.  Isn't it a poser where all the furniture goes to at a
+'beano' like this!  There's nothing in the hall, nor in the
+dinning-room; and there doesn't seem to be much here.  Let's make for
+the lounge."
+
+"But I can't take you away.  I shall get my face scratched.  You were
+made to be looked at, and half these silly people are staring their
+eyes out in your direction.  I don't know how you put up with it so
+serenely.  I should want to bite them all.  If I were a man, and had
+been burdened with an appearance like yours, I should want to hit Life
+in the face for it."
+
+"Don't be silly.  What does it matter?  It pleases them, and it doesn't
+hurt me.  I get my own back a little anyway...  when I want to" - with
+a low, significant laugh.
+
+"Oh of course lots of women are in love with you," - with a
+contemptuous sniff; "but if I were a man I wouldn't give tuppence for
+the woman who made me a present of her affections.  You miss all the
+fun of the chase, and the victory.  It must be deadly dull."
+
+"That's what Lorraine has sometimes said; but what can I do?  Shall I
+paint my face black?"
+
+"Oh, I've seen you look black enough, but it's rather becoming than
+otherwise.  Anyhow, it isn't insipid.  But you've grown quite manly
+lately, I suppose.  I hear about you occasionally positively working
+hard.  Heavens! - what you owe to Lorraine!""
+"I do," fervently.
+
+"Then why in the world don't you look after her a bit?  I turned up
+unexpectedly at half-past one to-day, and found her sobbing her eyes
+out."
+
+"You found Lorraine sobbing her eyes out..." incredulously.
+
+"I did.  She told me not to tell you, as it was only nerves - but of
+course it wasn't.  You know as well as I that Lorraine doesn't suffer
+from weepy nerves.  It's worry again; and she is looking thoroughly
+ill."
+
+"Why again?..."
+
+He was looking grave enough now, and there was anxiety in his voice.
+
+"Oh, because there's often something to worry her - either her mother,
+or her memories, or the future.  I suppose you haven't bothered to go
+and see her lately to cheer her up?  Been too busy with your briefs!"
+
+"I was there yesterday, to inquire how she was after a bad sick
+headache.  The room was all violets and snow-drops"; and his eyes grew
+soft.
+
+"And did she sight of her robust health knock you backwards?"
+
+Hal was irritable from the strain on her own nerves, and it pleased her
+to hurl sarcasms at him, feeling somehow angry at his calm,
+smoothly-flowing path to success.
+
+"I thought she looked ill, and I advised her to go away for a week."
+
+"That was kind of you.  And why won't she take your safe advice?"
+
+"She won't go alone, and she said there was no one to go with her."
+
+"Too many briefs, eh?"
+
+"What have my briefs to do with it?"
+
+"Oh, nothing.  She's given hours and hours to you and your future; but
+of course you couldn't risk sparing a  week -"
+
+"But!... " he began with raised eyebrows.
+
+""Oh, don't 'but' in that inane fashion.  If you say it isn't proper I
+shall scream.  Lorraine is nearly old enough to be your mother, and she
+has far too much sense to be in love with you; and you wouldn't be so
+idiote as to imagine it any use for you to be in love with her.
+Therefore it's only a companion she wants to keep her from moping and
+dwelling on sad thoughts; and you seem to be able to do that - as well
+as any of us; so why can't you get another man, or boy if you prefer
+it, to go for a run into the country with you?  Flip would take her by
+the next train if he were there.  He wouldn't care a farthing for
+scandalmongers.  But I suppose he can do that sort of thing because
+he's a man.  And, anyhow, I don't suppose she would go with you, even
+with a third person.  She might think a whole week of you too much of a
+good thing."
+
+His face has grown still more thoughtful, and he paid small heed to her
+taunts.
+
+Lorraine sobbing, Lorraine ailing, Lorraine unhappy, filled his mind.
+What could have happened to upset her so?  True, she had not been
+looking well for some weeks, and had complained of headaches and
+weariness; but he felt sure something quie apart had transpired to
+upset her so thoroughly.
+
+Neither did he think it was Hal's version of the usual worries.  He
+greatly feared his own people had made some move of which he was in
+ignorance.  He contemplated with deep vexation the probability that he
+himself was indirectly the cause of her new trouble, and he mentally
+decided then and there to go to considerable lengths, if she wished it,
+on her behalf.
+
+Probably if he travelled down to some sea-side place and saw her
+comfortably settled, and later on ran down to fetch her, she would be
+more easily induced to go.  At any rate he would call the very next day
+and see, if his proposition simplified matters at all.
+
+Hal watched him a little impatiently, and at length remarked:
+
+"You seem to be thinking rather hard.  Are you meditating upon
+Lorraine's trouble, or my suggestion, that it is unlikely she could
+endure a whole week of you, unadulterated?"
+
+"Both," with a humorous glance at her.  "I'm thinking it would be
+interesting to find out the truth in both cases."
+
+"Well, you won't do that.  Lorraine never tells her troubles.  Not even
+to me.  And she's too tender-hearted to hurt your feelings on the other
+question."
+
+"I'm not afraid of that."
+
+His face grew a little brighter, and, as if satisfied with the result
+of his cogitations, he changed the subject.
+
+"What's making you so ratty to-night?  Is it the faithless swain?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Perhaps you haven't seen the evening paper."
+
+"I haven't.  I'm sick to death of papers by six o'clock."
+
+"Well, you oughtn't to have missed it to-night, and then you'd have had
+the pleasure of seeing the announcement of the faithless swain's
+engagement to the rich heiress."
+
+Hal bit her lip suddenly, and felt her blood run cold, but she kept her
+outward composure perfectly, and merely commented:
+
+"Oh, you mean about Sir Edwin Crathie and Miss Bootes!... that's very
+old news."
+
+"Well, it was only in the paper to-night anyhow; and only given as a
+rumour then.  I was going to ask you if it is true.  Yhey say he's in
+the dickens of a mess for money.  But of course you know all about it."
+
+He was enjoying himself now, feeling that he was getting a little of
+his own back, and it made him unconsciously merciless.
+
+"It must have been rather a trying moment when you had to break to him
+that you couldn't possibly pay any of his debts, and that therefore you
+must part?"
+
+"I don't know anything about his debts.  They don't interest me.  I can
+beat him at golf, playing level, and that's far more to the point."
+
+"Then you are going to play golf with him, while Miss Bootes bears his
+proud name in return for paying his debts!  Sure, it sounds a nice
+handy arrangement for him."
+
+Then Hal got up.
+
+"I don't want to _talk_ to you, because you are talking such drivel;
+and I don't want to _look_ at you, because your pink and white and blue
+and gold irritate me beyond words, so you'd better go and stand in the
+middle of the room for the benefit of those who delight to gaze; and
+I'll go in search of a refreshingly ugly person who can talk sense!"
+
+Hermon gave a low chuckle of enjoyment, and continued to chuckle to
+himself until she was lost to sight and his hostess was introducing
+some charming d�butante to him.  The d�butante was pink and white and blue
+and gold likewise, and gazed up at him adorably under long curling
+lashes; but he might have expressed a fellow-feeling with Hal, for he
+found himself merely bored, and longed to go in search, not of a
+refreshingly ugly person, but of the refreshingly irritable, snappy,
+unappreciative one who had just left him.
+
+When at last he was free, however, he found Hal had complained of a
+headache and gone home early, unattended.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+
+On her way home Hal stopped the taxi and bought an evening paper.  When
+she got it, however, she found Dudley there, so she merely held it
+under her cloak.
+
+"You are back early," he said, in a surprised voice.
+
+"Yes.  It was very formal and very dull, and I was tired."
+
+He glanced up with questioning eyes.  It was something new for Hal not
+to stay untill the last moment at a festivity.  He thought she looked a
+little paler than usual, and there were shadows about her eyes, but she
+interrupted any comment he might make by an inquiry after Doris.
+
+"She is very well."
+
+He stopped short rather suddenly, and seemed thoughtful.  He had been
+urging Doris to fix the date of their wedding, and let him see about
+taking a house or a flat, but she had seemed to avoid the subject
+lately, and he was a little troubled.
+
+"I suppose poor Basil is much the same?"
+
+"Yes.  He and Ethel were both asking what had become of you.  They said
+you hadn't been up for a long time."
+
+"I haven't.  I'll go to-morrow.  Good-night," and she kissed him, and
+went upstairs.
+
+In her own room she sat on the bed, and read the evening paper.
+
+Yes, it was there sure enough, but it was only given as a rumour.  "We
+understand there is a rumour..."  How well she knew the phrase, with
+its dangerous suggestiveness, and safe retreat.  She wondered who had
+started the rumour, and how the paper had got it.
+
+But, again, insistently she asserted it could not be true.  If it had
+not been for last Saturday she might have believed it.  But after
+that... no, he could not be so base.  She put the thought away from
+her, and tried to sleep, but her eyes would look out into the
+blackness, and her brain ask questions.
+
+"What if it were true?"  She clenched her hands and fought the
+question.  It could not be true; why worry?  Yet he had never made the
+slightest suggestion of marrying her.  She remembered that, but scorned
+it.
+
+Why should he?  There had been nothing lover-like between them until
+the previous Saturday; and of course had there been any one else, it
+would have been so easy to go on the same and make no change that
+particular afternoon.
+
+Finding what comfort she could out of these thoughts, she fell at last
+into a troubled sleep.
+
+The following afternoon, in fulfilment of her promise, she went up to
+Holloway from the office.  Doris was out, and Ethel not home yet, but
+the door was opened to her by a gaunt stranger, who said:
+
+"Come in.  This is one of my days.  I'm in charge this afternoon."
+
+Hal looked into the angular face, which appeared to her as if it had
+been roughly hewn with a chisel, by some one who was a mere amateur,
+and she could not repress a little smile.
+
+"I don't think I've met you before.  Are you - are you - a friend of
+Mr. Hayward's?"
+
+"Well, he's a friend of mine, if that will do as well.  I'm generally
+know here as G.  The letter isn't stamped on my face, but it's on the
+door of my flat, and that's much the same."
+
+She stood aside for Hal to pass down the passage, adding grimly as Hal
+loitered, with rather an amused, engaging expression:
+
+"I don't stand for much more than a door, with a G on it, as I often
+tell Mr. Hayward, but I suppose it's all right."
+
+"A little more occasionally," suggested Hal.  "A door wouldn't be much
+use to Mr. Hayward, anyhow."
+
+"That's what he says.  Won't you go down to his room?"
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Get the tea.  It's one of the few things I can do passably well."
+
+"Let me come and help.  It won't take long.  I'm interested in that
+door.  You see, I'm not even G; and I don't possess a front door."
+
+The music-teacher looked searchingly into her face, and was evidently
+pleased with what she saw, for she adopted a friendly note, and seemed
+ready to chat.  Hal followed her into the little kitchen, and commenced
+to take off her hat.
+
+"I'm an old friend," she volunteered, "and I often leave my hat in
+here.  Are both Mr. Hayward's sisters out?"
+
+"Miss Hayward will be late to-night, and her sister is uncertain.  It
+depends somewhat upon which young man she is out with," in acid tones.
+
+Hal glanced up in astonishment, but her companion was busy with the
+cups and saucers, and  did not notice the look.
+
+"All I can say is, I'm sorry for that nice gentleman who is fool enough
+to think of marrying her.  Lord! he'd be safer with some one with a
+face like a door-knocker, such as mine.  But there, they're all the
+same; and the nicest of them are generally the biggest fools."
+
+Hal grasped the situation at once, and instead of enlightening her
+concerning her own identity, said casually:
+
+"There's another young man as well, is there?"
+
+"There is so.  A pawnbroker I should take him to be, who wears the
+jewellery left in his care on his person for safety.  As a matter of
+fact, I believe he is a South African millionaire.  He brought her home
+one day, and Blakde - that's the housekeeper's husband down below -
+recognised him.  He was out in South Africa in the war, and he saw him
+then."
+
+Hal drummed on the table with her fingers to assume nonchalance.
+
+"Does Miss Hayward know?"
+
+'Know?  Of course she doesn't.  How should she know, particularly if
+that artful monkey did not want her to?  I don't know where the poor
+sick man would be now but for me.  She's always off somewhere - that
+minx - and I rush back from my music pupils, because I can't rest for
+the thought of him here all alone.  I've given one up, who wanted a
+lesson at half-past four every day.  That's the time he needs his tea."
+
+"Why do you do all this for him?"  Hal found herself asking, a little
+unaccountably.  "He is nothing to you, is he - no relation, I mean?"
+
+"Nothing to me!...  Oh, isn't he though!  I'd like to know what is
+anything, if he's nothing?"
+
+She rattled the cups and saucers a little restlessly, and Hal, with
+growing interest, waited for her to go on.
+
+"Before I knew him, I was nothing in the world but a door with a letter
+on it, as I've just told you.  That's all I stood for, a mere letter of
+the alphabet who paid a monthly rent.  I told him so, when I first came
+across, and he said, 'Well, I'm very glad they didn't leave G out of
+the alphabet.'  That's all."
+"But I'm his slave now.  Nobody cared whether there was a G or not
+before.  It isn't pleasant to feel you're a mere cypher, with no
+particular meaning to any one; just shot in haphazard to fill up a
+blank - a mere creature, useful to teach exercises and scales to odious
+children one only longs to slap.
+"Fancy being expected to keep yourself alive in a dingy little flat,
+for ever alone, just to do that!"  The cups rattled more restively
+still.  "I say, the universe is the grimmest jester there ever was.  Me
+to teach music to keep life in a body that doesn't want it!  If I'd
+been employed laying out corpses in their grave-clothes there'd have
+been some sense in it.  I'm not much more that a figurehead of an old
+hulk myself.  But music!... music!...  Oh Lord, and I haven't one real
+note of it in my whole composition."
+
+Hal seated herself on the table.  With her quick intuition she
+perceived at once entertainment of an original kind was before her, and
+she promptly laid herself out to obtain all she could.
+
+"Why do you teach music?  I don't think you do quite suggest a
+musician?"
+
+"Of course I don't."
+
+The gaunt spinster was cutting some bread-and-butter now with a savage
+air.
+
+"Do I suggest anything, except perhaps a butcher or an undertaker?  Yet
+I can only keep myself alive with music.  That's the jest of the Arch
+Humorist.  My father was a clergyman.  He droned out services for fifty
+years in a hamlet, with a little square church like a wooden money-box.
+ I was taught music so that I could - well - make the tin-pot organ
+groan, I used to call it.  I had twenty-five years of that, with never
+a break.  I got so that, to keep myself from turning into a stone
+gargoyle on the organ seat, I must have my little jest too.
+"One way I had it was by making the organ groan dismallest at weddings
+and christenings, and squeak hilariously at funerals.  Father never
+noticed, he'd already turned gargoyle, you see, and as for the village
+people! well, it suited them, because they always wept at weddings, and
+overate themselves at funerals."
+
+"And then?..."  Hal was so thoroughly enjoying herself now, she had
+almost forgotten the invalid.
+
+"Well, then the gargoyle died, or ran down, or something.  I should
+think he got tired of sing-song the tender mercies of God to the devout
+people, and His judgments on the wicked.  It always seemed to me the
+good folks got the nastiest knocks; and the wicked, well, they fairly
+left the green bay tree behind.
+"Anyhow, I'd been devout enough, as far as sinning goes, for forty
+years.  I wasn't even blessed with the chance to be anything else.
+Then a new parson came, an underdone young man with new fal-da-dal
+ideas.  I wonder how soon _he'd_ become a gargoyle?  I defy him to
+stand out long against the cast-iron nonentity of that village.  But he
+didn't take kindly either to me or my music.  Hadn't any sens of humour
+at all.  I don't know what I ever knew a clergyman who had.  Perhaps a
+man couldn't very well go on being a clergyman if he possessed such a
+trait.
+"Anyhow, this particular one did not think I put enough expression into
+the tunes.  He said they hardly sounded like sacred tunes at all; which
+wasn't surprising, when you come to think that sometimes a low note and
+sometimes a high note on that little tin-pot organ would take it into
+its head to stick, and would either boom or squeak all through the
+thing I was playing."  Hal burst out laughing, quite unable to contain
+herself any longer, but the spinster went on calmly: "The tune might
+just as well have been 'Down by the Old Bull and Bush' then, but it
+wasn't my fault, because when your hands and arms and feet and eyes and
+ears are all struggling to keep time with a village choir that varies
+its pace every few bars, you've got nothing left to release a stuck
+note with."
+
+"I hope you didn't tell the under-done young parson about 'The Old Bull
+and Bush'?" said Hal, still rocking with enjoyment and bent chiefly
+upon leading her on.
+
+"I'd never heard of it then, or I might have.  Even that won't reach
+the village I'm thinking of for a hundred years; and then they'll play
+it until the very birds lose heart, and think they are uncannily up to
+date.  So they are if you count it when things come round the second
+time.  I told him if the organ seemed to be playing 'Yankee Doodle,' I
+supposed it was because it felt like it; as, for twenty-five years, it
+had more or less pleased itself at my expense.
+"But he'll be a gargoyle soon, and then he won't notice, and it will
+boom and squaek to its heart's content.  Of course I ought to have
+stayed on because I matched it all, and I didn't mind the booming and
+squeaking as long as the choir didn't get convulsed, and stop
+altogether - because that was liable to catch father's attention.  A
+gargoyle is out of place in London.  It's as mad for me bo be here as
+that I'm here to teach music.  After I became fossilised I ought to
+have stayed on till I died, and then that self-willed organ could have
+fairly squeaked itself out over my corpse.  Come along and have some
+tea now.  Poor Mr. Hayward will be getting faint."
+
+"But you're too perfectly delicious for anything!" Hal cried, springing
+off the table.  "Why haven't I known you for years?  Why haven't I
+known you all my life?  You must meet my cousin Dick Bruce.  You
+absolutely _must_, with the least possible delay.  He'll simply dote on
+you.  Come along to Basil, and tell me heaps and heaps more"; and she
+caught her by the arm in the friendliest fashion, and half-pulled her
+along to the little sitting-room.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+
+"What a gossip you two have been having!"  Basil said, and, seeing the
+laughter in Hal's eyes, he added, "has G been telling you some of her
+amazing theories, or tearing the existing order of the universe to
+shreds?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know, but she's simply immense. Have you heard about the
+tin-pot organ that will play its own way, and the choir that gets
+convulsed, and the underdone young parson?  She's simply got to know
+Dick. He wouldn't miss it for the world."
+
+"Yes; I've heard most of it. She plays an organ of laughter for me
+nowadays, that makes me bless the day she was born."
+
+The gaunt spinster positively blushed.
+
+"Oh, that's just your way," she snapped, bashfully trying to hide her
+pleasure. "If I hadn't been G, a pretty, charming young woman with real
+music in her might have been, and you'd have liked that much better."
+
+"No, I shouldn't. She'd have played 'Home, Sweet Home,' with
+variations, and 'The Maiden's Prayer ' - I know her at a glance. If you
+do only play scales and exercises I'm sure you manage to put a lot of
+character into them."
+
+"That's only thumping; and who wants thumping ?"
+
+"I do, when it's the universe. I'm just as much askew with it as you
+are, only I haven't got the wit to thump it so satisfactorily. You are
+going it for the two of us now."
+
+"Still, you're not a gargoyle..." with a queer twist of her face that
+delighted Hal.
+
+"I shall positively take you to Dick myself," she said, "or bring him
+here to you. He'll talk to you about a mother's patience, and babies;
+and you'll talk to him about gargoyles and organs, and Heaven only
+knows where you'll both get to ; but I wouldn't miss it for anything."
+
+"I don't know who Dick may be, but if he talks to me about mothers and
+babies " - grimly - " I shall groan like that organ did at
+christenings. They may be useful in the general scheme, but beyond that
+I don't know how
+any one can put up with them at all; with their potsy-wotsy, and
+pucksie-ducksie, and general stickiness.  It's quite enough for me that
+I have to knit stupid little socks for their silly little feet, for
+bread-and-butter. The most I can say for it is, that it's a more
+satisfactory plan than
+casting your bread on the waters, on the off-chance some kindly Elijah
+will butter it."
+
+"Where are the socks, G ?" Basil asked, looking round.  "I should like
+Hal to enjoy the edifying spectacle of your knitting babies' socks."
+
+"You don't mean that," interrupted Hal comically.  "I can't believe it."
+
+"It's the horrible truth," asserted the spinster, calmly going on with
+her tea -" most of them go to little black whelps in the Antipodes.
+After all, it isn't any more incongruous than the music - is it ?"
+
+"But you don't do it for the under-done young parson, surely ?"
+
+"Goodness gracious, no.  What an idea!   He wiped his hands of me long
+ago. The wildest stretch of imagination, you see, could not picture me
+ever looking like an angel; so he left me to my fate!"  And again the
+humorous
+twisted smile delighted her small audience.
+
+"Have you seen Splodgkins lately ?" Basil asked.
+"You say all babies are sticky and objectionable; but you must admit
+that sticky imp down below is better than two-thirds of the other
+babies in the world shining with soap polish."
+
+"So he is"; and the grim face relaxed still further.  "He was sitting
+in my way on the stairs this morning, and as I could not get by, I
+said, 'Make room, please, Master Splodgkins; you don't own the
+universe.' 'Eth oi doth,' he lisped. 'Noime ain't thplodums. Damn th'
+ooniverth.'"
+
+It was good to hear Basil's whole-hearted laughter.
+"We ought to have had him to tea," he said regretfully.  "He would have
+delighted Hal.  He's two-and-a-halfyears old" - turning to her - "this
+remarkable person-age; and, like most gutter snipes, has developed as an
+ordinary child of four.  He and G have debates occasionally. He wishes
+to be called D, because that is the letter on his front door, and
+'Splodgkins ' hurts his dignity but he's so funny when he is indignant
+we can't resist
+teasing him."
+
+A little wistful smile crept into the invalid's eyes.
+
+"We have lots of fun in this dingy old barrack between us," he told
+Hal. "We are rarely silly enough to be dull, with so many queer,
+interesting folks under the same roof."
+
+Hal felt something like a sudden lump in her throat, but she smiled
+brightly as she looked from one to the other, feeling somehow the
+better for knowing such waifs of life and circumstance, who could yet
+baffle Fate's pitilessness with genuine laughter.
+
+"Dick is writing a most weird and incomprehensible book on vegetables
+and babies.  I'm quite certain you could give him lots of ideas," she
+remarked to G.
+
+"He'd better put Splodgkins in if he wants to make it sell," said she.
+"Only they mightn't allow it at the libraries. Splodgkins's vocabulary
+is fortunately sometimes indistinguishable for his lisp."
+
+"Splodgkins couldn't be translated," put in Basil.  "He sometimes comes
+to tea with me and G; but he is almost too exhausting.  I think he
+knows every bad word in the English language; but one has to forgive
+him because he always saves half his cake for his baby sister, and
+hurls violent abuse at any one who dares to disparage her.
+"Are you going?..." as G got up.  "I'm sure Miss Pritchard doesn't want
+you to leave us."
+
+"Miss Pritchard!..."  In a horrified voice.
+
+"Never mind," said Hal quickly.  "It didn't matter."  Then to Basil, in
+explanation: "G said something about Doris's fianc�, not knowing I was
+his sister, but I quite forget what it was.  Good-bye, G," holding out
+a frank hand.  "I think you're a delightful person, and I'm just as
+glad as Basil that you weren't left out of the alphabet."
+
+A few minutes later Doris came in, looking flushed and stealthy, and
+the first thing Hal noticed was a loverly little diamon brooch she had
+not seen before.
+
+"What a darling brooch," she exclaimed, after their greeting.  "Did
+Dudley give you that?  He might have shown it to me."
+
+"No..." stammered Doris, turning red.  "I've had it a long time.  It's
+not real."
+
+"Well, it's a wonderful imitation, then" said Hall a little drily -
+and remembered the man like a pawnbroker's shop.
+
+Then Ethel joined them, and Hal's quick eyes saw sthe still increasing
+anxiety, just as surely as she saw the increased furtiveness in Doris's
+side-long glances.  And because of all that she felt for Ethel, she
+trust her own care into the background resolutely, and made the evening
+as gay as she could while she was there.
+
+Only afterwards she went home through the lamp-lit darkness, feeling as
+if some vague shadow had descended silently upon her little world.
+
+What was this insistent, nameless fear at her own heart?  Why was
+Lorraine weeping when she found her yesterday?  Why was trouble
+steadily gathering on Ethel's face?  What was this gossip about Doris? -
+
+The gloom of a foggy night added to her depression.  Why, in the tube
+railway, did all these people about her look so white and tired and
+lifeless?  Did they just go on in their niches, in the same way that
+the grotesque music-teacher had gone on in hers for all those
+monotonous years; only to become like an uncared-for, unwanted letter
+of the alphabet pushed in to fill up a blank in a big city at last?
+
+Were they all gargoyles-fixed, rigid, joyless, carved things, fastened
+in their respective niches, not for ornament, or for use specially, but
+just because the general machine seemed to require them?
+
+And if so - why? ... why? ... why? -
+
+It was so easy to be joyous if one was made for it.  Such a little
+would make every one gay, if they were fashioned accordingly.  What
+could be the good of disfiguring a beautiful world with all these
+vacant, expressionless, hopeless masks?
+
+Hal did not read poetry.  She was perfectly frank about being utterly
+bored with it.  When she had anything to say, she liked to say it
+straight out, she explained, without twisting it about to make it rhyme
+with something just shoved in to fill up the line; and she preferred
+other people to do the same.
+
+Yet, perhaps, at that particular moment, had she seen the lines:
+
+_"Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
+To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
+Would not we shatter it to bits - and then
+Remould it nearer to the Heart's Desire?"_
+
+In her present mood she might have recognised also the stateliness and
+the beauty of a thought transcribed into verse.
+
+Or possibly she would have obstinately asserted there was no occasion
+to introduce the word Love at all - and it was no one's Heart's Desire
+she wanted, but just a common-sense, reasonable amount of pleasure for
+all, and a spring-cleaning of all the gloomy, wooden faces.
+
+In the sitting-room at Bloomsbury she threw her hat down on the sofa,
+and ran her fingers through her hair with an almost petulant air.
+
+"I just feel to-night as if it was a rotten old world after all," she
+said.
+
+Dudley, sitting poring over some plans with a reading-lamp, looked up
+in mild surprise.
+
+"And what has made you feel all that? - not Basil, I'm sure."
+
+"Well, there's no occasion to be so very sure.  I think it's decidedly
+rotten where Basil is concerned."
+
+She came and half-sat on one of the arms of his chair, and rested her
+hand on his coat-collar.
+
+"I wonder what G would think of a sane man spending his evening ruling
+pointless-looking lines on a big sheet of paper?"
+
+"And who may 'G' be?"
+
+"I hardly know - except that she's the quaintest person I've ever
+struck yet - and I've seen some funny ones."
+
+"Oh, I know who you mean.  Yes; she is an oddity.  Well, how was every
+one.  How was Doris?"
+
+"I hardly know.  She was not there when I arrived, and she did not come
+in until a few minutes before Ethel."
+
+"I wonder where she was?" thoughtfully.  "I asked her to come for tea
+and a walk in the Park to-day, and she said she could not leave Basil."
+
+Hal looked keenly into his face, and immediately he smiled and said:
+
+"I suppose the tenant opposite was free unexpectedly, and Doris was
+able to get out after all.  Poor little girl.  I'm glad.  But I wonder
+she didn't telephone me."
+
+Hal turned away, feeling a little sick at heart.
+
+Were they all then in the maelstrom of this gloomy sense of an
+engulfing cloud?  What could be the meaning of Doris's behaviour?  Did
+Dudley suspect anything?  Certainly he had been a good deal preoccupied
+of late, and spoken very little of the future.
+
+She looked  out of her window across the blue of London lights, and her
+thoughts roved a little pitifully across the wide reaches of her own
+small world.  From Sir Edwin,  with his high post in the nation's
+councils, and Lorraine with her brilliant atmosphere of success and
+triumph, to the dingy block of flats in Holloway, where, in spite of
+almost tragic circumstances, to quote Basil, they had "lots of fun"
+among themselves.
+
+She believed he meant it, too.  It was no empty phrase.  Rather
+something in touch with Life's great scheme of compensations, which she
+manipulates in her own great way, beyond the comprehension of puny
+humans.
+
+Certainly neither Sir Edwin nor Lorraine could boast of "lots of fun."
+Rather, instead, much care and worry and brain-weary grappling with
+problems of modern succesful conditions.
+
+She wondered, with a still further sinking at heart, if perhaps the
+time had come when she would have to grapple too.  Was it very likely,
+after their delightful friendship, and after that confession of his the
+previous Saturday, Sir Edwin was prepared tamely to give her up?  In
+her heart, she knew him better.
+
+And yet, if the rumour was not false, what else could result?  Vaguely
+she felt it might be one of those problems of modern society, coming
+across the evenly flowing river of her life, to demand solution.  Not
+the solution of the crowd - to follow a beaten track is rarely
+difficult - but her own individual solution, which might mean much
+warfare of spirit and weary heartache.    The foregoing of an alluring
+pleasure she deeply longed to take - not for any reward nor any gain,
+but solely for the sake of the mysterious power abroad in the world
+which is called Good; and which demands of the Present Hour that it is
+ready to crucify itself and its deep desires for the sake of the Future.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+
+As the days of that new spring-time crept on, it appeared that the
+shadow descending upon Hal's little world had come to stay.
+
+Things happened with surprising quickness, and each happening was of
+that particular order which presents itself enshrouded in gloom, and,
+with a pitilessness which is almost wanton, refuses to allow one gleam
+of the sunshine, carefully wrapped up in its gloomy folds, to send a
+single glad ray of hope to those wrestling in its sinister grip.
+
+One knows the sunshine may possibly be hidden there somewhere -
+sunshine always is hidden in each event somewhere - but what is the use
+of expecting it weeks or months or years hence, when it seems that one
+single ray now would be of more help than a whole sun in some vague,
+distant future?
+
+May it not be that in the development needed to fit the individual for
+the full and glad enjoyment of the sunshine to come, a ray of light
+would blur the film, and spoil the picture instead of producing one
+that is strong, clear and beautiful?
+
+So, a dauntless belief in the sunshine to come, without a ray to
+promise it, may make for greater perfectness through steadfast courage
+than had one beam crept through to lessen the need for effort and for
+strong enduring.
+
+Yet it was strange that the grim hand of destiny should strike at so
+many in that little world at the same time, and that its blows should
+be of that intimate nature which allows of no speech, even to one's
+dearest friend.
+
+Lorraine knew that the rumour of Sir Edwin Crathie's engagement was an
+admitted fact; but she did not know how hard it hit Hal.  She could
+only have learnt by accident, and, because of events in her own life,
+she was out of the line of such a discovery.
+
+Hal knew that Lorraine, after a nervous breakdown, had gone somewhere
+into the country for a week or so, and that Alymer Hermon had run down
+later to see how she was getting on, and if he could do anything for
+her, but of the almost tragic circumstances that led up to his action
+she knew nothing, and imagined the merest generous attention.
+
+She saw also the preoccupied, aged look growing on Dudley's face, and
+knew that the shadow was over him too.
+
+Ethel saw the change creeping over Basil as no one else saw it, and
+knew that not even the far future could shed a single gleam for her
+upon the darkness coming.
+
+Yet - for life is oversad to dwell upon rayless darkness even in books
+- bright, enduring, beautiful sunshine was wrapped up in those black
+clouds to flood the little world with joy at the appointed hour.
+
+It was Lorraine's life that events moved first.  After Hal left her,
+she spent a wretched, restless, brain-racking afternoon, and was only
+just able to struggle through her part at night.
+
+And afterwards she became suddenly sickened with the need to struggle.
+She was not extravagant by nature, and had saved enough money from her
+enormous salaries to liver very comfortably if she chose.
+
+A nausea of the theatrical world and its incessant demands began to
+obsess her.  She felt that from the first day she stood in a manager's
+office, seeking the chance to start, it had given her everything except
+happiness.
+
+Money, success, position, jewels, fine clothes, admirers, friends,
+adventures, gaieties - all these had come, if by slow degrees, but not
+one single gift had contained the kernel of happiness.
+
+Perhaps it was her own fault.  Perhaps the trouble lay in the wrong
+start she had made and never been able to retrieve.  But at least there
+was time to try another plan yet.
+
+Finally, feeling the nerve strain of recent events was seriously
+affecting her health, she decided to arrange a week's holiday to think
+the matter out.
+
+But then what of Alymer?
+
+Nothing had changed her mood since his uncle paid his ill-chosen visit.
+ She did not actually intend to try to influence Alymer against his
+people, but she did intend that he should not change to her, nor pass
+out of her life, if she could help it.
+
+Because she, and she alone, had started him off on his promising
+career, she meant to be there to watch it for some time to come.  Her
+influence might not any longer be actually needed.  The devine fire to
+achieve had already lit into a steady flame in his soul, and her
+presence would make very little difference in future.  He had tasted
+the sweets of success, and ambition would not let him reject all that
+the future might hold.
+
+But she must be there to see.  In her lonely life he meant everything
+now.  There was no need for him to think of marriage for years yet; and
+in the meantime she felt her claim upon him was as strong as any
+mother's fears.
+
+So she waited for his next visit, wondering much what would transpire
+if he had heard of his uncle's call.
+
+As it happened, he had.  In the interview he had sought with his aunt,
+to request her not to interfere in his affairs, the indignant lady
+hurled at him the story of the visit; or such garbled account of it as
+she had received from the participator himself.
+
+That was quite enough for Alymer - that and Hal's account of Lorraine
+in tears.  He felt that his benefactress, his great friend, had been
+abominably insulted, and he hastened in all the warmth of his ardour to
+her side.
+
+Lorraine was waiting for him in her low, favourite chair,  and when he
+first saw her he could not suppress an exclamation to see how frail she
+seemed suddenly to have grown.
+
+Her skin of ivory whiteness, enhanced by the tinge of colour in her
+cheeks, and there were shadows round her eyes placed there by no
+cosmetic art.
+
+All that was most chivalrous, most protective, most affectionate in his
+nature rose uppermost, and shone in his face as he said:
+
+"Lorraine, it is too feeble just to say I am sorry.  I heve been
+cursing the blunder with all my heart ever since I knew."
+
+"Thas was dear of you," she said; "but of course I knew that you would."
+
+"I hoped so.  I told myself over and over, you must know it had all
+happened without my knowledge."
+
+Lorraine had no mind to make light of the matter.  She felt she would
+hold him better by simply leaving it alone, and letting his own
+feelings work on her side.
+
+She knew of course that his uncle had probably tried to injure her
+case; but then, Alymer was a man of the world, and she trusted him,
+knowing what he must about his uncle, to judge her kindly.
+
+But all this seemed to fade into nothingness when she saw the distress
+and the affection in his eyes - the anger that any one had dared to
+hurt her, and the eager wish to make amends.  It made all her
+smouldering love leap up into flame, and the strength of the suddenly
+roused passion almost frightened her.  She felt there was desperation
+in it, the desperation of the drowning man who catches at a straw, of
+the condemned man  who seizes a last joy.
+
+Quite unexpectedly a reckless, surging desire began to take possession
+of her soul.  She had lost so much already; been hit so many times;
+missed so many things.
+
+A picture came back to her, with a new allurement.  The picture of
+herself with a little one of her own, floating down the peacefully
+flowing river to some quiet haven, far removed from the glare of the
+footlights.  Should she make a bold bid to win that much from the years
+that were left?
+
+She sat quiet, looking into the heart of the fire while the thoughts
+coursed through her brain, and her long lashes hid from the man above
+her the glowing dreamlights in her eyes.
+
+Then he too pulled up a low chair and sat down, so that his head was
+more nearly on a level with hers, and still his eyes looked at her with
+that regretful, protecting expression.
+
+"You must go away, Lorry," he said, using Hal's pet name; "you are
+beginning to look thoroughly ill."
+
+"I don't feel well, but I haven't the heart to go alone.  I should only
+get melancholia."
+
+"Hal seemed to think I ought to offer you a little companionship."  He
+said it with a slightly bashful air.
+
+"Hal?..." in a sharp, questioning voice.  "What has Hal been saying to
+you?"
+
+"Not much.  She was in great form at the Bruces' last night.  She
+rubbed it  into me finely on various subjects, and finally went off
+with her head in the air to find some one refreshingly ugly who could
+talk sense."
+
+They both laughed, but Lorraine's eyes were thoughtful.
+
+"And what did she say about your companionship?"
+
+"Oh, that it was only some one to talk to and be company you wanted if
+you went away, and that I seemed to fill the post better than any one
+just now."  He paused, then added: "Do I?"
+
+She felt him looking hard into her face, and kept her eyes lowered.
+She did not want him to know that the thought of his companionship in
+the country was like the straw to the drowning man - the last joy to
+the condemned one.
+
+"You always make me forget the years, and feel young," she said slowly
+and thoughtfully, "and I dare say that is a very good tonic in itself."
+
+"You oughtn't to need help from any one for that"; and she knew there
+was genuine admiration in his voice.  "You never look anything but
+young.  I suppose it is temperament."
+
+"Temperatment doesn't erase lines," with a little sad smile.
+
+"Perhaps not, but it makes them, in some way, suit you; and they add to
+the character in a face."
+
+"It is sweet of you to say so, Alymer, but it sounds a fairy tale.  I
+don't so very much mind growing old, if only it were not so...
+empty-handed."
+
+"But surely you have so much!"
+
+"Not very much that counts.  Anyhow, I hope some day you will have a
+great deal more."
+
+"You are depressed.  You must really get away somewhere at once."
+
+He was grandfatherly now, the mood she always loved and laughed at, and
+her pulses quickened to it.  He placed one of his large, strong-looking
+hand over hers - it covered them both out of sight - and he leanded a
+little nearer as he said:
+
+"I can see I shall have to take the ordering of it all.  You have done
+worlds for me.  Now I shall have to take you in hand."
+
+A harsh expression crossed her face for a moment, thiking of what his
+mother had written her.
+
+"And go straight to perdition!" she said bitterly.
+
+He winced a little.
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't want me to make excuses for my own mother," he
+remarked, with the quiet dignity that was aldready winning his name in
+the Law Courts, side by side with his gift for light satire.  "You
+cannot but know in your heart just how far removed her outlook on the
+world is from ours."
+
+She wanted to ask him if any outlook gave one woman the right to insult
+another at her pleasure, but she remembered Mrs. Hermon probably dit
+not realise that she would have the fineness to see the insult, and was
+not even aware that she had been insulting.
+
+"I should like you to know my father," he went on.  "He is a very
+understanding man."
+
+"But surely he..."
+
+"No; he knew nothing about it.  When my mother spoke to him he asked
+her not to interfere."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+For a few swift moments the generous treatment called to her own
+generosity, and for the sake of the understanding father she was almost
+ready to let go the straw.  Only then again came the recollection of
+the uncle, and his impudent offer to substitute himself, and make
+amends at the same time; and again the smouldering fires leaped up, fed
+by the strong, protecting touch of the hand upon hers.
+
+"I think Hal was right," Alymer was saying.  "If my companionship, just
+to run down and see how you are, wherever you may be, will help to
+cheer you up and amuse you, there is no reason why I shouldn't manage
+it."
+
+She knew he was making a concession of which he was half-afraid,
+because of what he owed her, and while one half of her longed to be
+self-sacrificing and release him, the other half fiercely demanded the
+straw that yet might save.  And still she said nothing, gazing, gazing,
+into the flames.
+
+"What do you think?" he asked.
+
+"I hardly know," with a tired smile.  "Of course I want you, but if -"
+
+"Never mind the 'if'," cheerfully.  "If I promise to run down and see
+you, will you go away at once, and try to get well again quickly?"
+
+"It would make a lot of difference."
+
+"Then that settles it.  Can you start to-morrow?"
+
+"I think I could."
+
+Her pulses were leaping fitfull now - leaping and bounding with a swift
+delight.  Perhaps he felt it, for he withdrew his hand, and gave
+himself a little shake, as if warding off something dangerous.
+
+"Where will you go?" in a matter-of-fact voice.
+
+"I hardly know, but I like the sea.  Any little place that is warm in
+the spring.  I might as well motor down, so it doesn't matter about
+trains, and the motor can come back for you."
+
+"Shall I bring any one else?" his eyes searched her face.
+
+"Just as you like."  She leant forward and casually stirred the fire.
+"Anyhow, there is sure to be plenty of room at this time of year."
+
+"Plenty of room, but not plenty of available companion chaperones,"
+with a little laugh.
+
+"Then we should have to make Sydney serve," naming her chauffeur.  She
+got up form her seat.
+
+"I suppose I must think about dinner," glancing at the clock.  "Are you
+joining me this evening?"
+
+"I can't; I have to go to Morrison's."
+
+"How gay you are!"
+
+"It is diplomatic.  Morrison could get me a brief to-morrow if he
+liked."
+
+"There is a very pretty daughter, just out; isn't there?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And is she so strikingly lovely?"
+
+"I suppose she is; but she is so full of airs and graces she irritates
+one almost past endurance."
+
+"I'm afraid you are a severe critic.  The way is made too smooth for
+you."
+
+She had moved near to him again, and stood beside him with one hand
+resting lightly on the mantelpiece, and one foot on the fender.  He was
+standing as usual with his back to the fire.  He looked down into her
+upturned face, fascinating now from a touch of roguishness.
+
+"The splendid knight is hard to please; mere beauty is too commonplace."
+
+"Isn't it sure to be?" a little smile played round his lips as he made
+his gallant retort.  "How can mere beauty ever appeal to me, who have
+been accustomed to all you have besides?"
+
+"Ah,  flatterer!..." she said softly, and smiled into the fire.
+
+There was a tense moment in which he longed to bend down and kiss her
+as he had done when the room was full of violets, but instead he pulled
+himself up sharply and moved away.
+
+"Well, I must be off.  Perhaps to-night I shall have the luck to be
+able to look at her from a distance, and not strike the jarring note.
+I'll try to come in to-morrow to see what you have decided, and then
+I'll run down on Friday afternoon for a long week-end, to see that you
+are taking decent care of yourself."  As an afterthought he added: "I
+suppose Hal couldn't get off?"
+
+"I'll ask her if you like.  She would love it, if she could."
+
+"And keep us amused too.  I should get my head bitten off, but you
+could put it on again for me.  Good-bye.  Anyhow, it is a promise that
+you will go"; and with rather a hurried farewell, he was gone.
+
+Lorraine remained some moments gazing into the fire, and there was a
+softness in her eyes.  She knew perfectly well that he had hurried at
+the last moment because when they stood together on the hearth he had
+wanted to kiss her.
+
+And she could not help comparing his strength in refraining with what
+would have been the action of most of the men she had known, who would
+have professed more, and meant less.  She leaned her head down on her
+hand, and wondered a little pitifully:
+
+"Why had the best she had ever known come to her too late?"
+
+And then followed the dangerous thought: "Is it indeed too late?"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+
+Lorraine was not able to see Hal, but she talked to her on the
+telephone, and told her she was going into the country at once, and
+Alymer was coming down for the week-end.  "We wondered if you could get
+off too.  Do try," she said.
+
+Hal answered at once that she could not manage it this week, but
+possibly the next, if Lorraine were still away.
+
+"I've only arranged for a week's holiday," Lorr	aine replied.  "What a
+nuisance you should be unable to come this week."
+
+As a matter of fact, Hal was only going out for the day with her cousin
+on Sunday, but an urgent little note from Sir Edwin had begged her to
+keep Saturday free for him;  and because the suspense was becoming
+unendurable, she granted his request, determined to know the truth.
+
+So it happened that Lorraine motored down alone to a quaint little
+fishing-village on the south coast, where there was a charming,
+old-fashioned, creeper-decked hotel, too far from the railway for the
+ordinary week-end tourists, and patronised mainly by motorists in the
+summer.
+
+And on Friday the motor went back to town to fetch Alymer, bringing him
+down about four o'clock, unaccompanied.
+
+"So Sydney will have to be chaperone after all," Lorraine said lightly.
+ "Now, what should you like to do to-morrow?"
+
+"Is there any chance of fishing?"
+
+He asked the question with some diffidence, fearing that it might only
+bore her.
+
+Lorraine clapped her hands.
+
+"Exactly what I thought.  We're going to have the jolliest little
+fishing-smack imaginable for the whole day; and Sunday too, if you
+like; and take our lunch with us, and fish until we are tired."
+
+A glad light leapt to Alymer's eyes.
+
+"By gad!  You are a trump," he said.
+
+In the meantime Hal waited a little feverishly for Saturday.  They were
+to have one of their long outings.  Meet at twelve, motor for two
+hours, lunch at two, then a walk; back to town to dine, without
+changing, in some grill room.
+
+Sir Edwin had mapped it all out beforehand, sitting at his desk, with
+an anxious, unhappy expression, unrelieved by the evidences all around
+him of what he had achieved - of the proud position that was his.
+Indeed he almost wished he could will it all away, and be just an
+independent, moderately successful solicitor, able to please himself in
+all things; instead of bound by the demands of party and position.
+
+And those demands just now were very exacting.  It was not an easy
+party to serve, and the less so in that its ranks numbered many
+soldiers of fortune of the swah-buckler type, who meant to hold the
+power they had attained partly on the exploitation of a lie, by fair
+means or otherwise; even if necessary by further lies - lies upon lies
+- but clever, carefully manipulated ones; not bald, childish, outspoken
+ones.
+
+One of their most prominent office-holders had recently perpetrated a
+lie of the latter type.  Such a barefaced, impudent, obvious lie, that
+there was no possibility of covering it up, and the whole country
+talked of it.  Music halls laughed at it, comic papers and comic songs
+rang with it, election platforms bristled with it.
+
+Naturally the party was very annoyed.  One could imagine them saying
+indignantly to the offender: "Lie as much as you like, but for
+goodness' sake have the common sense to lie cleverly.  If you can't do
+that, better confine yourself to merely distorting facts."
+
+The official in question held a post in the same department as Sir
+Edwin - which meant that quite enough opprobrium had been recently
+hurled at the Law without risk of any further scandal.
+
+The party was not sufficiently strong for that.  They had fright enough
+over a paragraph in the _Church Gazette_, hinting at a lady in
+connection with one of their Ministers - where there should be no lady;
+but prompt action had steered the ship through those shoals in safety.
+
+But all the same, this business of The Right Honourable Sir Edwin
+Crathie and the Stock Exchange had got to be attended to at once.
+Under no possible consideration must it leak out that a Cabinet
+Minister had been speculating so heavily, and lost to such an extent,
+that nothing but an immense sum of money could save him from disgrace,
+bankruptey, and ruin.
+
+One friend and another had tided him over for some little time, but he
+had continued to be reckless and incautious, relying with an unpleasant
+sneer upon his title.
+
+"Oh well!" had been his conclusion; "if the worst comes to the worst, I
+can always sell my name to an heiress."
+
+Finally, that unhappy condition had arrived.  It had further choses the
+worst possible moment - the moment when the music halls and comic
+papers were waxing hilarious over the badly executed lie.
+
+Sir Edwin had been summoned to a consultation that had been the reverse
+of pleasant.  The only thing was that the way of escape had been
+thoughtfully  planned for him.  He had no need to hunt up the heiress
+for himself.  She was considerately provided.
+
+Miss Bootes' father was a wealthy Liberal, who had more than once
+generously supplied funds to the party, in return for some small favour
+he craved.  Now he wanted a celebrity, with a title, for his daughter.
+Sir Edwin hardly came up to the required standard, but Mr. Bootes was
+easily persuaded that there was absolutely no limit to his
+possibilities, were he once set on his feet as far as money was
+concerned.
+
+The Prime Ministership, followed by a Peerage, were in his certain
+grasp, had he but the necessary money to back him.
+
+Papa Bootes said over an over to himself: "My daughter, Lady Elizabeth
+Crathie" (it was really Eliza, but had been discreetly changed to suit
+the fashion), and came to the conclusion that a Cabinet Minister for a
+son-in-law sufficiently banished the odorous flavour patent manures had
+given to his fortune.
+
+Finally he inquired the amount of Sir Edwin's debts, and promised a
+cheque if the delicate little matter were settled.
+
+Hence the consultation, and the polite but firm intimation that Sir
+Edwin must close with the offer - that he had not even the right to
+choose ruin instead, because of its effect on the party.
+
+And of course, now the crisis had come, Sir Edwin did not want to close
+with the offer.  In his own mind he consigned the party, and all
+belonging to it, to the very worst hell of Dante's Inferno.
+
+But, beyond relieving his mind a little, their imaginary exodus did not
+help him in the least.  He found himself in the very undesirable
+position of furnishing a telling example of the utter impossibility of
+serving two masters.
+
+To do his common sense justice he had never had the least intention of
+attempting to.  Without any prevarication as far as his own feelings
+were concerned, he had quite honestly chosen to serve Mammon.  Having
+decided thus far, he banished the very memory of any other possible
+master.  He did not exist for him.  Mammon, in that it meant place, and
+power, and money, was the only god he wanted to serve.
+
+And now? -
+
+Well, of course, the Little Girl must go.  At first he said it harshly,
+shrugging his shoulders and pursing his lips.  It had only been a
+pastime all through, and, thanks to her owon pluck and sense, it had
+been one of those rare, delightful pastimes that, ended suddenly, might
+leave only a gracious, enjoyable memory behind.  He was glad of that.
+
+Somewhere in his heart, that was mostly impressionless india-rubber,
+there had proved to be a healthy, flesh-and-blood spot after all.  She
+had found it quickly - gone straight to it with the unerring directness
+of a little child.  It existed still - would always exist for her.
+
+But in future the india-rubber would have to close over it, and hide it
+from all chance of discovery.  In future he must not even remember it
+himself.  For that way lay weakness.  No serving of Mammon could be
+achieved, whichever way he turned, with the frank, candid, clever
+Little Girl.
+
+And so she must go; and since it was inevitable, the sooner the better.
+
+Then had come the afternoon's golf; and, without asking himself why, he
+had hidden from her that there was any change.  Afterwards, because the
+impending finale made him desire her as he had never desired her
+before, he went into the pretty little sitting-room and kissed her.
+
+When he hurriedly departed, he remembered only that the kiss had been
+sweet.  Also that evidently no rumour had reached her yet.  But of
+course it would.  Any moment of any day her newspaper office might get
+the news and publish it.
+
+He spent a wretched week, torn mercilessly by his desire to serve two
+masters.  In the end, because he was a man who hated to be thwarted, he
+swore a violent oath, and said that he would.
+
+Then he sent Hal the urgent little note, and made his plans for the
+day.  They all hinged largely upon his hope to get her to go to his
+flat in Jermyn Street, after that grill-room dinner.  That was why when
+they met he cleverly took the bull by the horns directly he saw in her
+eyes that she had heard the news.  He appealed, with insight, to her
+sense of humour.
+
+"If you look at me like that," he said, "I shall punish you by sitting
+down here, in St. James's Park, on the curbstone, and giving you an
+explanation before all London that lasts an hour."
+
+"I've a great mind to keep you to it," with her low, musical laugh,
+"and send Peter to bring a phonograph man with a blank record to take
+it down."
+
+"And a dozen journalists with snap-shot cameras, and biograph
+apparatus, to link us in notorious publicity to all eternity."
+
+"No; I couldn't stand that.  What is your alternative?"
+
+"A long, perfect day in this heavenly sunshine, pretending anything in
+the world you like that will make us forget the stale, boresome, old
+week-day world.  Then, at the end of it, the unfolding of a glorious
+plan that is an explanation in itself."
+
+Hal looked doubtful, and seemed to cogitate.  He waited in an anxiety
+he could scarce conceal, watching her mobile,  sensitive face.  Finally
+the sunshine and the light-hearted carelessness made the strongest
+appeal, and she gave in.
+
+"Very well.  If it had been dull and cloudy I would not have agreed.
+But one daren't trifle with sunshine.  We'll take our fill of it while
+it lasts."
+
+So it happened that their last long day was one of the best they had
+known - each being clever enough to carry out the suggested programme
+and banish the following cloud for the time.
+
+Hal was a little feverish - a little gayer than usual, with some hidden
+strain; a little pathetically anxious to act an indifference she could
+not possibly feel, concerning that rumour, and throw herself heart and
+soul into their compact of forgetting everything for a little while
+except the sunshine and the exhilarating dash through a spring-decked
+England.
+
+In some places the hedges were white with hawthorn; and in sheltered
+nooks they sped past primroses, like pale stars in the grass.  There
+were plantations of feathery, exquisite larch trees, their lovely green
+enhanced by tall dark pines, standing among them like sentinels.  In
+gay gardens joyous daffodils nodded and laughed to them as they whirled
+past.  Sir Edwin ventured an appreciative remark.
+
+"Don't talk," Hal said.  "Pretend you are in a worldwide cathedral, and
+it is the great annual festival of spring."
+
+"May I sing?" he asked humorously.
+
+"No; not as you value your life.  We have only to listen to the choir.
+Hush, don't you hear the birds singing the grand spring 'Te Deum'!"
+
+But after a time she spoke herself.
+
+"Was it all like this on Thursday night - all these delicious scents
+and sights and sounds cast broadcast, for all who passed to enjoy?"
+
+"I expect so.  Why?"
+
+The kindliness in the quizzical grey eyes was amazing, as he sat back,
+watching her with covert insistence, instead of the spring glories.
+How the divine spark changes a man for the brief moments when it
+reigns!  Banishing utterly Stock Exchange scandals, convenient
+heiresses, exacting parties, the merciless claims of the god Mammon.
+He might have looked just so, years and years ago, before he entered
+that hard service, and buried all his best under layer upon layer of
+harsh, deadening, world-wise grasping.  Pity that the best is so frail
+to withstand the onslaught of the demons of power and place - so easily
+overcome and thrust away probably for ever.
+
+"I was up in Holloway.  I suppose you know it?  And there was a strong
+man dying a helpless invalid, and his sister breaking her heart, and a
+woman from the opposite flat, who said she stood for nothing in the
+world but a letter of the alphabet.  And all round was gloom, and murk,
+and shabbiness, and hard, pitiless facts.  I came home in the tube, and
+all the passengers seemed to look like lifeless, starved, white-faced
+mummies.  They made me feel frightened.  I wondered where joy had fled
+to.
+
+"And here, was it just like this all the time? ... flowers, and sweet
+scents, and spring, and hopefulness? ... And scarcely any one to enjoy
+it all; while those white-faced, vacant mummies were journeying
+foolishly to and fro in that stuffy, detestable tube."
+
+"You shouldn't go to such places.  What have you to do with Holloway,
+and shabbiness, and starving people?  If you belonged to me, I wouldn't
+let you go."
+
+"Of course I have to do with them.  We all have.  But I don't know
+what.  And it frightens me.  I don't think I've ever felt frightened
+before.  It was like being brought up sharp against a stone wall."
+
+His lips were suddenly a little stern.  Stone walls had to be broken
+down.  That was the use of being strong.  One was not frightened; one
+just got a battering-ram, and forced a passage through.  He would tell
+her soon, but not out here.  Not just yet.
+
+"You are forgetting our compact.  I'm surprised at you, Hal.  I call it
+a slight on the sunshine."
+
+"Why, so it is! ...  Avaunt, and leave my mind, Holloway!  This day
+belongs to the spring."
+
+And until they drew up outside the Criterion Grill, she kept her
+spirits high, and gave herself to the joy of the hour.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+
+When they were half-way through dinner Hal asked, a trifle abruptly:
+
+"Now, what about this piece of news?  What does it mean?"
+
+He looked away, unable to meet her candid eyes, and said:
+
+"I will tell you presently."
+
+"Where?  Why not now?  Why all this secrecy?"
+
+"Because it is rather a big matter.  You have sometimes said you would
+like to see the horns and trophies I brought back from my shooting-trip
+in Canada.  Come and see them this evening."
+
+"At your flat?" doubtfully.
+
+"Yes.  Why not?"
+
+Hal knit her forehead and looked perplexed.  She had so insistently
+declined to go hitherto, that she was loth now to change her mind.  Yet
+she felt it was rather silly to have any fear of him now.
+
+In the end she went.
+
+It was only eight o'clock, and he promised to take her home about nine.
+ Besides, something in his manner was baffling her, and she wanted to
+understand how they stood.
+
+Once in the sumptuous, beautifully furnished flat, however, he seemed
+to change.  He came up to her suddenly, put his arms round her, and
+kissed her.
+
+"At last," he breathed.  "At last I've got you absolutely to myself."
+
+"Don't do that."
+
+Hal disengaged herself and held him at arm's length.  For a moment she
+looked steadily into his eyes, and then she asked:
+
+"How has this report of your engagement got into the papers?"  Her lips
+curled a little.  "I presume you would hardly act to me like this if it
+is true."
+
+"It is true in one sense, and not another."
+
+"Oh..."  She seemed a little taken aback.  "In what way is it true.
+Are you engaged to Miss Bootes?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+She lifted her eyebrows, and moved a pace or two farther away.
+
+"Don't move away from me," he said a little thickly.  "It isn't the
+part that's true which matters, but the part that is not true."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"I brought you here to explain.  I can do so very quickly.  I am in a
+tight corner.  The tightest corner I ever was in my life.  Only one
+thing can save me.  I must have money.  Miss Bootes, or at any rate her
+father, wants a title.  I haven't the shadow of a choice.  I have got
+to sell her mine."
+
+Again Hal's lips curled, and a little spark of fire shone in her eyes.
++-
+
+""Oh, I can understand all that!"  She tossed her head
+half-unconsciously.  "But why" - her lips quivered a little - "did you
+think it necessary to insult both of us by, at the same time, becoming
+lover-like to me?"
+
+"I told you why; because I love you."
+
+He stepped up to her, and caught both her hands in an iron grip.
+
+"Now, listen to me, Hal.  Don't try to break away, for I won't let you
+go.  I tell you it's a matter of life and death.  In your heart you
+know quite well that I love you.  You knew it when I kissed you last
+Saturday, and you were glad.  I don't know when you read that
+announcement, but whenever it was, your heart said to you 'Whether it's
+true or not, he loves _me_'.  Probably you didn't believe it was true,
+because you knew nothing whatever about the devilish mess I was in.
+But in any case, your heart told you right.  I do love you.  I love you
+with every bit of me that knows how to love.  If I have to be hers in
+name, I am at any rate yours at heart, and shall be all my life.  Noew,
+what have you to say?"
+
+She tried to drag her hands away, but he gripped them tightly, forcing
+her to feel his strength, his resolve, and his masterfulness.
+
+"I have nothing to say.  What should I have?  You have elected to sell
+yourself, to let a woman" - with swift scorn - "buy you out of a tight
+corner.  I... I... " in a low tense voice, "am sorry we ever met."
+
+"Why? -"
+
+He hurled the monosyllable at her, now almost crushing her hands in his
+grasp, as he waited, silently compelling her to reply.
+
+"Because the friendship was pleasant.  It has meant a good deal.  And
+now for it to end like this!...  for me to have to scorn you."
+
+"Why need it end?...  Why should you scorn me?...  Wouldn't every
+second man you know in my place act exactly as I am acting?  I have no
+choice.  I ought not to tell you, but my political chiefs have issued
+an ultimatum to me, and I have got to obey it.  Do you suppose I would
+consider it for a moment if I could find any other way out?  Do you
+suppose I would risk losing you, would even dream of giving you up, if
+I were not driven to it by the very hell-hounds of circumstance?
+To have felt love at all is the most wonderful thing in my life: I, who
+have always mocked and jeered and disbelieved.  Well, anyhow it is
+there now.  Listen, Hal.  I love you.  I love you?  _I love you_."
+
+He tried again to kiss her, but she wrenched at her hands, held in his
+grip.
+
+"Let me go.  You... you... to talk of love.  You don't know what it is.
+ Let me go... let me go - "
+
+"I won't. By God, you shan't speak to me like that.  I won't endure it."
+
+He was evidently losing control of himself a little, and the sight of
+it steadied her.  Behind all her bravado and pluck there was a terrible
+ache.  Caught in a mesh of circumstances, she knew she could not
+struggle out without being grievously hurt at heart.  She knew that,
+however she loathed his action now, she could not unlove him all in a
+moment.
+
+When he scorched and seared her with his passionate declaration, her
+heart cried out that she wanted him to love her, that she wanted to be
+his.  And yet stronger and higher and better than all, was that woman's
+instinct in her soul which loathed his action and clung wildly in the
+stress of the moment to its own best ideal.
+
+In the swift sense of hopelessness that followed, great tears gathered
+in her eyes, and welled over on to her cheeks.  They had an immediate
+effect upon him.  He let go her hands.
+
+"Don't cry, Hal, don't cry," he said a little huskily.
+
+"I can't stand that."
+
+She brushed the tears away almost angrily, but, ignoring his motion to
+draw up an arm chair, remained standing, straight and slim beside the
+hearth, trying to recover her composure.
+
+Sir Edwin commenced to pace the room.  He had succeeded in his scheme
+so far as to get Hal to the flat to discuss the projects in his mind,
+but now that she was there he felt at a loss to proceed.  He wished she
+would sit down; he changed his mind and almost whished she would cry;
+standing there, like a soldier on guard, with that direct, fearless
+expression, she disconcerted him, by making him feel mean and paltry
+and small.
+
+And all the time he could not choose but admire her more and more.  He
+wished with all his heart in those moments that he could throw his
+position and his party overboard, and go to her with a clean slate, and
+say:
+
+"I have done with serving Mammon.  Come to me as my wife, and I will
+serve you instead."
+
+And instead he had brought her there to say:
+
+"I cannot give up serving Mammon.  I must marry the heiress, but let me
+be your lover and I will serve you as well."
+
+And all the time Hal stood there with those resolute, set lips, as
+erect as a young grenadier.
+
+But all the same he meant to have her if he could, and he remembered of
+old how often he had found a swift, bold attack won.  So he stopped
+short beside her, and said:
+
+"You know that whatever circumstances compel me to do, all my heart is
+yours, Hal, and you care a little bit about me.  You know you do.
+Don't condemn me to outer darkness.  Come to me like the sensible
+little woman you are.  No one will ever know, and I can make your life
+gayer and happier just as long as ever you like."
+
+She looked at him with a startled, perplexed expression.
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked slowly.
+
+"Now, don't get angry."
+
+He laid his hand on her arm, with a caressing touch.
+
+"You've knocked about the world too much not to know what I mean.  You
+know perfectly well half the girls you know would let themselves be
+persuaded.  But that isn't what I want.  I've too much respect for your
+strength of character.  Come to me because you can be strong enough to
+rise above conventions and because you dare to be a law unto yourself.
+It is the courage I expect of you.  Hal, my darling, who is ever to be
+any the wiser if you and I are lovers?  Think what I can do for you to
+make life gay and interesting and fresh.  Don't decide in a hurry.  If
+no one ever knows, no one need be hurt."
+
+She moved away from him, and went and stood by the window, looking down
+at the passing lights in St. James's Street; looking at the lights in
+the windows opposite, looking at the faint light of the stars overhead.
+
+It was characteristic of her that she did not grow angry and indignant;
+nor, in a theatrical spirit, immediately attempt to impress him with
+the fact that she was a good, virtuous woman, and that his suggestion
+filled her with horror.  Her knowledge of life was too wide, her
+understanding too deep.
+
+She knew that to such a man as he a proposal of this kind did not
+present any shocking aspect whatever.  When he said, "Be a sensible
+little woman," he meant it to the letter.  He actually believed she
+would show common sense in yielding to him, and taking what joy out of
+life she could.
+
+But, unfortunately for the world in general, it is not only the
+horror-struck, conventional, shocked women who resolutely turn their
+eyes from the primrose path.  There are plenty of large-hearted,
+broad-minded women, who, seeing the world as it is, instead of how the
+idealists would have it, are content to go on their own strong way,
+fighting their own battle for themselves without saying anything, and
+without judging the actions of others, content in striving to live up
+to their own best selves.
+
+Hal was one of these.  If another girl in her place had yielded to the
+alluring prospect of possessing such an interesting lover as Sir Edwin,
+to brighten the commonplace, daily round, she would not have blamed
+her, she would have tried not to judge her.
+
+But she would have been sorry for her in many ways, knowing how apt the
+primrose path is to turn suddenly to thorns and stones; and in an hour
+of need she would have stood by her if she could.
+
+But the fact of possessing these wide sympathies did not lessen any
+obligation she felt to herself.  It was her creed to "play the game" as
+far as in her lay, and according to her own definition.
+
+That definition did not admit of any irregularity of this kind.  It
+called, instead, sternly and insistently for absolute denial.  It told
+her now, without the smallest shadow of doubt, that from to-night she
+must never see Sir Edwin again.  She must take whatever interest he had
+brought out of her life, and go back to the old, monotonous round.
+
+It was useless to question or reason.  The decree was there in her own
+heart.  The insistent call to keep her colours flying high, as she
+fought her way through the pitfalls of life to the Highest and Best.
+
+As she paced the room behind her, disclosing a carefully thought-out
+plan, now pleading, now expostulating, she heard him rather as one afar
+off.
+
+The plan did not matter one way or another.  If she could have let
+herself go at all she would not have troubled about plans.  His
+pleading and expostulating she scarcely heard.
+
+She was looking out at all the lights, and her mind was grappling with
+problems.  How harsh the glare of the streets appeared to-night.  How
+far, far away the pin-points that were stars.  Hal liked a city.
+
+Constellations hanging like great lamps in wonderful, wilderness skies
+would have wearied her quickly.  She loved people, and she liked them
+all about her.  But to-night she felt suddenly very near to the dark,
+shadowy side of life - very far from the stars of light.
+
+She glanced up at the pin-points a little wistfully.  If perhaps they
+were nearer with their message of high striving; if perhaps the glare
+at hand were less harsh, there might be so much more steadfast courage
+in the world; so much less weak acceptance of conditions that led to
+pain and misery and disaster.
+
+At last he stood beside her, and implored her to tell him, once for
+all, that she would yield and come.
+
+But when he saw into the clear depths of her eyes, he knew his hopes
+were vain.
+
+Suddenly, with swift self-distrust, his mood softened.
+
+"I suppose I've shocked you past forgiveness now," he said miserably.
+"You'll think I've been an brute to you, and you'll never forget it."
+
+"No; I shan't think that; but I should like to go home at once."
+
+"But surely that is not your last word!"
+
+"What else is there so say?  I... I... can't do that sort of thing.
+That is all.  From to-day you must go your way, and I must go mine.  It
+is useless to discuss it.  Let me go home."
+
+"But you can't mean it," he cried.  "Surely we are not to part like
+this."
+
+She had moved back into the room now, and was pulling on her gloves.
+
+"What else can we do?"
+
+"But you care for me, Hal.  You can't deny it.  You do care a little;
+don't you?"
+
+She looked into his eyes without a tremor, but with a pain at the back
+of hers that made him flinch.
+
+"Yes, I care," she said very quietly.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Suddenly he sat down, and buried his face in his arms on the table.
+Every good, honest trait he possessed called to him to throw "Mammon"
+to the winds, and make her happy.  Let the party take care of itself.
+It was not for his nobility of character they had taken him into the
+Cabinet.  Let his creditors do their worst - a strong man could win
+through anything.  But the mood did not last.  There was not enough
+room in that india-rubber heart for it to expand and grow.  It died for
+want of breathing-space.
+
+"If you care, why can't you have the courage to come to me?" he asked a
+little fiercely.
+
+"Because I have the courage to stay away."
+
+And he knew - hardened sinner that he was - that she named the greater
+courage.
+
+But his goaded feelings called to him, and drove him, making him mad
+with the knowledge he must lose her.
+
+"Heroics!..." he said - "heroics!...  Don't talk like a
+bread-and-butter miss, Hal.  It is unthinkable of you."
+
+He got up from his chair and took a step towards her, but stood
+irresolute - daunted by the calm strength in her face.
+
+"The world is too old for heroics any more.  Every one laughs at them.
+Where is the politician to-day who cares tuppence for anything but the
+main chance?  We blazon our way into office, and we blazon louder still
+to keep there.  It is the spirit of the age.  The strong man takes what
+he wants, and holds it by right of his strength.  In primeval times we
+used fists and clubs.  Now we hit with brains and words or hard cash.
+That is all the difference.  The strong man is still the one who takes
+what he wants, and keeps it.  And I want you, Hal.  It is mere
+feebleness - childishness - to be thwarted by convention and
+circumstance.  Hoodwink convention, and stamp on circumstance.  Go
+through stone walls with a battering-ram.  As long as the world doesn't
+know - who cares?  Those are my sentiments.  They have been for years.
+When I want a thing, I go for it bald-headed, and take it."
+
+He drew nearer boldly, refusing to be daunted, putting all his strength
+and determination against hers.
+
+"And I want you, Hal.  Do you understand?  Don't be a little fool.
+Come."
+
+She backed away from him towards the door.
+
+"I understand well enough," she said quietly, "and I shall never see
+you again if I can help it.  All that you say does not appeal to me in
+the least.  I am not a politician - thank God - and I am still
+old-fashioned enough to possess an ideal.  I am going now.  Good-bye."
+
+But when he saw she was already in the little hall, a wave of fierce
+desire seemed to catch him by the throat.
+
+"Not yet," he exclaimed hoarsely: "Not yet...  I care and you care -
+you cannot go yet -"
+
+But before he reached her, she had slipped through the front door, and
+shut it behind her, and run down the stairs out into the street.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+
+All through the next day, while motoring with her cousin Dick Bruce,
+Hal made a valiant effort to appear exactly as usual; but all the fresh
+spring countryside now seemed to mock her with its sudden emptiness,
+and the very engine of the motor throbbed out to her that something had
+gone from her life which would not come back any more.
+
+She chatted away to Dick manfully, about all manner of things, but in
+the pauses of their chatter she was silent  and still in a manner quite
+unlike her old self - reattending with a start, and sometimes so
+distraite she did not hear when he spoke to her.
+
+After a time Dick began to notice, and then purposely to watch, and
+finally he perceived all her gaiety was forced, and sometimes was
+weighing heavily on her mind.
+
+It was useless to say anything while they motored, so he gave all his
+attention to his driving, and purposely allowed the conversation to
+drop.
+
+When they returned to Bloomsbury he went in to supper with her, as was
+his habit, and, as he hoped, Dudley was away up at Holloway.  It was
+not until they had finished their meal, and the landlady had cleared
+away, that he attacked the subject; then, with characteristic
+directness, he said:
+
+"Now, Hal, what's the matter?"
+
+"The matter?..." in surprise.  "What can you mean, Dick?  Why should
+anything be the matter?"
+
+She tried to meet his eyes frankly, but before the searching inquiry in
+them her gaze dropped to the fire.
+
+"Something is the matter, Hal.  Just as if I shouldn't know."
+
+She was thoughtful a moment or two, thinking how best to put hi off the
+right scent; then with overpowering suddenness came the recollection of
+all the pleasure and interest and delight the lost friendship had stood
+for, and her eyes filled with tears.  It was useless to attempt to hide
+them, so she contrived to say as steadily as possible:
+
+"I am a bit down on my luck about something; but it's nothing to worry
+about.  Don't take any notice; there's a dear boy.  I shall soon
+forget."
+
+"But why shouldn't I take any notice?  Don't be a goose, Hal.  Tell me
+what's the matter."
+
+She was silent, and after a pause he added:
+
+"I suppose it is Sir Edwin?"
+
+Hal felt it useless to prevaricate, and so she said, with assumed
+lightness:
+
+"Well, it has been a little sudden, and we had some jolly times
+together."
+
+"Then he is engaged?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She told him briefly why.  Dick watched her with a question in his eyes.
+
+"Did he deliberately get engaged to the other girl, knowing he cared
+for you?" he asked.
+
+Hal tried to lie.
+
+"Oh, there was nothing of that sort between him and me.  We were just
+good pals.  But of course it can't go on the same."
+
+"You're not a clever liar, Hal," he said, with a little smile.
+
+She coloured and bit her lip, with an uneasy laugh.  Then the tears
+shone again.
+
+"Better tell me about it.  Perhaps I can lend a hand to get through
+with."
+
+Hal placed her hands on the mantelshelf, and leaned her forehead down
+on them.
+
+"Tell me something funny, Dick, or I shall howl in a few seconds.
+Don't be serious.  Be idiotic.  Have the carrots and turnips decided
+which take precedence yet?  Is her ladyship, the onion, weeping upon
+the cabbage's lordly bosom?  Are the babies talking philosophy over
+their bottles?  For Heaven's sake, Dick, be idiotic, and make me laugh."
+
+"I think it would do you more good to cry."
+
+"Oh, no, no: I hate to cry.  Do help me not to."
+
+But Dick understood the relief it was to a woman to have it out, and he
+just sat down in Dudley's big arm chair, and reached the favourite
+footstool for Hal.
+
+"Sit on the stool of confessional, and I'll make you laugh later on.
+If you don't cry now, you will when I've gone."
+
+Hal sat on the footstool, and leaning against his knee, cried quietly
+for several minutes.  He played with an unruly strand of hair until she
+dried her eyes, and then said:
+
+"When we were kids, you always told me when things went wrong with you.
+ Tell me all about it now."
+
+"I left off being a kid about a month ago.  I'm ancient history now";
+and she tried to smile through her tears.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, just because - " and then her voice broke suddenly.
+
+"I suppose Sir Edwin was in love with you?"
+
+She did not reply.
+
+"And he was obliged to marry the other woman for the money."
+
+He was thoughtful for some moments, and then added:
+
+"All the same, when a man like that goes so far as to love a woman,
+which must be a pretty novel experience for him, he doesn't let her go
+lightly.  He won't let you go lightly, Hal."
+
+"I shall not see him again."
+
+"Has it come to that already?"
+
+"It had to.  There was no other course."
+
+"It sounds rather sudden and drastic."  He watched her keenly.  "A man
+like that would try to get both of you.  Did he try, Hal?"
+
+The hot blood rushed to her face, and she turned her head away.
+
+"Well, he would think it the obvious, sensible course, I suppose, and
+perhaps a good many women would, too.  What did you think, Hal?"
+
+"I didn't think.  I hurried away.  I shall not see him any more at all."
+
+He looked at her with a light in his eyes.
+
+"Bravo," he said; and there was a low thrill in his voice.  "He'll
+think the world more of you, Hal."
+
+"I'm not sure; anyhow, it doesn't help very much."
+
+"Then you wanted to go."
+
+She stared into the fire and was silent.
+
+"I see," he said simply.  "You are one of the women who would have
+dared, only...  of course I knew you wouldn't, Hal.  And, if you had, I
+shouldn't have been the one to blame you."
+
+"Yes," she told him, still staring at the fire.  "I could have dared
+under some circumstance.  But not these.  Never under pretty, ignoble
+ones.  I think that all makes it worse.  There were two Sir Edwins.
+There was one I knew, and another the world knew.  It was the other
+that triumphed.  Mine will never come back.  It is all finished."
+
+She bowed her head down on her arms.
+
+"Oh, Dick," she said.  "I shall miss him badly."
+
+"But I'm glad you let him go, Hal."  He spoke in a quiet voice full of
+feeling.  "Most men are pretty casual and indifferent nowadays, and we
+often say we like a woman to be broad-minded, and daring, and all that;
+but, by Jove! when we know she's straight as a die, without being a
+prude, we're ready to kneel down to her.
+
+"Stand to your guns, Hal.  I... I... want to go on knowing that you are
+among those one wants to kneel down to.  If he is very persistent and
+persevering, and it gets harder, I dare say I can help.  You can always
+'phone me at a moment's notice, and I shall consider myself at your
+beck and call."
+
+"You are a dear, Dick, but I shall not see him.  He can only wait for
+me at the office, and I shall go out the back way."
+
+"Still, if you're rather lost there are lots of things we might to to
+fill up the time.  I've been going down East with Quin lately.  It's
+awfully interesting.  Especially with him - he's so splendid with the
+most hopeless characters.  There's a sing-song at one of the clubs on
+Wednesday eve.  Come down with us.  You'll see Quin at his very best."
+
+"I'd love to come.  Will you fetch me?"
+
+"I'll fetch you from the office, and we'll have a sort of meat-tea meal
+at the Cheshire Cheese.  Perhaps Quin will join us."
+
+So they sat on and talked in the firelight till it was time for Dick to
+go; and all the time Hal was unconsciously drawing strength and
+resolution from him for the fight that lay ahead of her.
+
+Many years ago when she broke her dolls he had tried to mend them and
+comfort her.  And now, because he was a simple, manly gentleman,
+blessed with the precious gift of understanding - when she was feeling
+heart-broken he tried with all the old, generous affection to help to
+heal the wound, and bring her consolation.
+
+And away on the southern shore, where a little fishing-village nestled
+in the cliffs, and a creeper-covered hotel awaited sleepily the coming
+of the summer and the summer visitors, Lorraine came to what she deemed
+her hour - the one great hour left - and, as a drowning man, caught at
+her straw.  Two long perfect days they had spent on the sea, with an
+old fisherman, full of anecdote, and his young grandson to sail the
+boat.
+
+Then came the dreamy twilight hour, and their utter loneness; and
+Alymer, with the strong, swift blood in his veins, and the strong lust
+of life in his heart, lost himself, as she meant that he should, in the
+intoxicating atmosphere of her charm and fascination.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+
+When Hal and her cousin emerged from the office the following Wednesday
+evening, the first thing Hal saw was Sir Edwin's motor, and Sir Edwin
+himself standing waiting for her.  A disengaged taxi was just moving
+off, having deposited a fare, and instantly, without a word to Dick,
+she sprang into it.  Dick gave a sharp glance round and followed her.
+
+"Tell him where to go," she said.
+
+He directed the chauffeur, and then looked anxiously into her face.
+She had turned very pale, and seemed for the moment overcome.
+
+"Sir Edwin's motor?" he asked, and she nodded.
+
+"Shall I call for you every day?" he said at once.
+
+"No.  He can't possibly see me if I go out the other way."  Then she
+added: "He won't go on for long.  He was there yesterday, but he did
+not see me; and after to-day I dare say he will give it up."
+
+Finally she added, with an effort:
+
+"I heard this morning the wedding is already fixed for June.  It's to
+be one of the weddings of the season"; and her lips curled somewhat.
+
+"I'm more sorry for her than for you, Hal," he said quietly.  "You've a
+lot of splendid years before you yet.  Heaven only knows what's ahead
+of her.  I doubt he'll not give her much beside his name for his share
+of the bargain."
+
+She made no comment, leaning back in her corner, white and tired.  It
+was difficult to imagine anything ever being splendid again just then;
+or any man ever seeming other than tame, after Sir Edwin's clever,
+virile, interesting personality.
+
+But Dick had judged wisely in suggesting the trip down East.  Anything
+West would merely have recalled painful memories.  The East of London
+was new to her, and could not fail to be interesting to any one with
+Hal's love of her fellows.
+
+They went to a large parish hall, where Quin was in charge for a social
+evening of dancing and music.  Factory girls were there in all their
+tawdry finery to dance; rough, boisterous youths mostly made fun of
+them; tired, white-faced, over-worked middle-aged women sat round the
+walls, laughing weakly, but forgetting the drudgery for a little while.
+ At one end of the room older men sat and smoked, and looked at
+illustrated periodicals.
+
+Hal entered with Quin and Dick on either side of her, and was
+immediately accosted by a young lady, with a longer and straighter
+feather than most of them, with the remark:
+
+"Hullo, miss!... which of 'em's yer sweet'eart?"
+
+A burst of laughter greeted this sally, but Hal, not in the least
+disconcerted, replied:
+
+"Why, both, of course... I'll be bound you've had two at a time often
+enough."
+
+The repartee delighted all within hearing, and from that moment Hal was
+a brilliant succes at the social evenings.  She only wondered she had
+never thought to go before; but perhaps no other moment would have been
+just so propitious.
+
+The sudden blank in her life craved some interest that was entirely
+new, and made her more ready to receive fresh impressions and create
+fresh occupations.  She quickly found real pleasure in teaching the
+girls to dance properly, in listening to their outspoken humour, and
+soon developed an interest in their varied and vigorous personalities.
+
+As she and Dick went home together that evening he noted joyfully that
+a little colour had come back to her face, and there was once more a
+genuine gleam in her eyes.
+
+"You liked it?" he asked.
+
+"Immensely."
+
+"It grows on one.  You'll like it better still yet.  Alymer and I have
+always rather laughed at Quin, and regarded him as a crank.  But he's
+not.  It's just that he loves humanity, and he gets quite close up to
+the core of it down there, even if it is half-smothered in vice and
+dirt.  I don't believe he'll ever take orders.  It's partly because
+he's not a clergyman, and they know it, he's such a success.  To-night,
+for instance, there was a big bullying chap trying to spoil all the fun
+for the men who wanted to smoke peacefully and look at the books.  Quin
+remonstrated, and he turned round and swore violently at him.  To my
+surprise, Quin, if anything, outdid him.  I wouldn't have believed Quin
+could swear like that.  I'm sure I couldn't myself.  The chap just
+looked at him, and tried another oath or two doubtfully.  And Quin said:
+
+"Go on if you like, I'm not nearly through yet.  I can't be a blank,
+blank, blank bully, and I don't want to be - it's nothing to be proud
+of; but I'm as much of a man as you any day."
+
+"The other chaps laughed then, and the brute slunk off to the other
+side of the room."
+"I asked Quin about it later, and he said:
+"Oh well, you've got to talk to them in their own language, or they
+don't listen.  That's the best of not being a clergyman.  Of course one
+couldn't very well curse and swear then.  But it's the way to manage
+them.  That chap will come to heel in an evening or two, and be
+reasonably quiet."
+
+"You hit the right note straight off, Hal.  Quin was awfully pleased.
+Talk to them on their own level first, and presently you'll be getting
+them struggling up to yours almost without knowing it.  He's
+frightfully keen for you to go again."
+
+"I'm going every Wednesday," she said, "and other times as well."
+
+They parted at the door, and Hal went in alone.
+
+The moment she stood in the sitting-room she knew that something had
+happened.  Dudley was sitting in his big chair by the fire, holding
+neither book nor paper, gazing silently at the flames.
+
+At the table she stood still.
+
+"What's the matter, Dudley?...  What has happened?"
+
+There were a few moments' silence, then, scarcely looking round, he
+replied:
+
+"She's gone.  Run away with another man."
+
+"Gone!..." she echoed.  "Gone... with another man! ...  Do you mean
+Doris?"
+
+"Yes.  She was married at a Reigstry Office this morning.  A messenger
+boy took the letter up this evening, after they had left for the
+Continent."
+
+Hal sat down.  It was so violently sudden she felt stunned.  After a
+moment Dudley got up and moved aimlessly about the room.
+
+"It's no use attempting to say anything, Hal.  There's nothing to say.
+Of course I know you're sorry, and all that, but I'd rather you didn't
+say it.  You never liked the engagement, and you never liked Doris.
+Probably you were justified, but it doesn't make it any easier for me
+now."
+
+"Who has she gone with?"
+
+"I believe he's a South African millionaire."
+
+"Ah! - "
+
+"You had heard of him?..." sharply.
+
+"Only last week, from the tenant opposite.  She did not know I was your
+sister, and said something about Doris having two young men, and one of
+them was a South African millionaire."
+
+He made no comment, but continued his aimless walk.
+
+"What about Ethel and Basil?" she could not help asking.
+
+"They are terribly upset.  As soon as I had been shown the letter I
+went out to make inquiries.  Ethel could not rest for fear everything
+was not square.  She wanted to go off after her at once.  But it's all
+correct.  I saw the Registrar.  They were properly married, and they
+left for Dover at eleven, bound for Paris."
+
+"What in the world will become of Basil?"
+
+He winced visibly.  Doris's flagrant selfishness to Basil hurt almost
+more than her faithlessness to himself.
+
+"She stated in the letter that her husband was allowing her a thousand
+a year for herself, and she was prepared to pay a housekeeper to look
+after Basil and the flat."
+
+"Little beast," Hal breathed under her breath.  "What are they going to
+do?" she said aloud.
+
+"The tenant opposite insists upon taking Doris's place.  She was
+sitting with him when Ethel got home, and the letter arrived about the
+same time.  Nothing else will satisfy her.  She is going to be with him
+all day, and only teach in the evenings after Ethel has got back."
+
+"How splendid of her!" involuntarily.
+
+"She hardly seems the kind of person Basil would like, but he appeared
+quite pleased.  It may have been a little quixotism.  All he said was:
+
+"What in the world should we have done without you, G; and there! only
+a few weeks ago you were wishing you had not been born."
+
+"How like Basil.  All gratitude and understanding as usual.  But it
+must have hit him rather hard, Dudley.  Is he all right?"
+
+
+"I don't know."  The gloom on Dudley's face deepened.  "I thought he
+looked very ill, but I could not get Ethel to say much.  She seemed
+rather to avoid me.  I don't think she likes me."
+
+Hal was conscious of a little inward smile of gladness.  She had
+guessed Ethel's secret long enough ago, and she knew the power of
+uncertainty and a little thwarting.  Dudley would naturally try to
+break down Ethel's dislike; and perhaps in doing so he would grow to
+know her better.
+
+"I think I must try and get up to-morrow," was all she said.  "Ethel is
+so reserved.  She will get ill herself if she broods and frets on t he
+top of all her work and anxiety."
+
+"Will you?" he asked, with some eagerness.  "Basil loves to see you;
+and if he is really worse, I shall get Sir John Maitland to go up and
+see him again."
+
+"Of course I'll go.  We may be able to help them between us."
+
+She was just going away upstairs to bed, when the forlorness of
+Dudley's attitude, and the thought of her own sore heart before Dick
+comforted her, made her lay down her hat again and cross the room to
+him.
+
+"Dudley, don't forget you've got me still.  I know I'm very trying
+sometimes, but I love you so much more than Doris ever could have."
+
+She sat on the arm of his chair, and played with the lapel of his coat.
+
+"Don't forget about me, Dudley.  If you are just only miserable, I
+shall be miserable too."
+
+He looked at her with a sudden greater depth of affection than she had
+ever seen.
+
+"I don't forget, Hal.  If it weren't for you, what in the world should
+I do now?...  It's no use talking about it, is it?  You will understand
+that; but thank God you're still here with me, and we can go on the
+same again."
+
+She stooped and kissed him hurriedly, and then left the room, that he
+might not see the tears brimming over in her eyes.
+
+The next morning she rang up Lorraine's flat, to know if she had come
+back yet.  She was rather surprised when Jean her maid answered.  It
+was not like Lorraine to go away without her maid.
+
+"You don't know when to expect her?..." she repeated uncertainly.
+
+"No; Miss Vivian said she might come any day, or she might stay over
+another Sunday.  She has the motor with her."
+
+"Is she far from a station?"  Hal asked, contemplating the possibility
+of joining her on Saturday if she had not returned.
+
+"About seven miles, I think.  She went down in the car, and is coming
+back in it.  I have had one letter, in which she says she is having
+lovely weather, and absolute rest, and feeling much better."
+
+"That's good.  Well, if she comes back suddenly will you ask her to
+'phone me?  I want to see her."
+
+But neither the next day nor the one after was there any call, and in
+reply to a second query on Saturday, Jean said she had only received a
+wire that morning saying she was staying until Tuesday.
+
+Hal was a little puzzled that she had not been invited down for the
+second week-end, but decided Lorraine must have meant to return and
+changed her mind at the last moment, leaving no time to get a message
+to her.
+
+A later encounter with Dick, however, puzzled her more than ever.
+
+"Old Alymer is taking quite a long holiday," he said.  "We were
+expecting him on Tuesday or Wednesday, but he never turned up.  He was
+at the Temple on Thursday, but went away again in the evening."
+
+"I hope Lorraine isn't ill?" she said anxiously; "but of course if she
+is, she would have sent for Jean."
+
+"Is he away with Miss Vivian?" Dick asked in some surprise.
+
+"Yes; I made him go," loyally.  "He had scruples, but really they
+seemed too silly, and Lorraine looked so ill, and he always has the
+knack of cheering her up and doing her good."
+
+Dick looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"I hope you were wise," he said; "but they are rather fascinating
+people, you know."
+
+"Oh, nonsense!  Lorraine is quite eleven years older than Alymer, and
+she only likes to look at him."
+
+Dick had it in his mind to suggest there had been a far greater
+disparity between her and Sir Edwin, but he only said:
+
+"Well, he is good to look at, isn't he?...  and such a dear old chap.
+Nothing seems to spoil him.  And of course Miss Vivian has done an
+awful lot for him.  If she wanted him to go, he could hardly refuse."
+
+"That's just what I said," with a little note of triumph.  "And Jean
+told me Lorraine had said in a letter she was having absolute rest, and
+feeling much better."
+
+Yet, when Hal was alone she wondered a little again why Lorraine, after
+inviting her for the first Sunday, had said nothing about the second.
+It was quite unusual for her not to go for a week-end when Lorraine was
+at the sea.
+
+She felt suddenly that they wanted to be alone, yet persuaded herself
+it was only because Lorraine had been so tired.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+
+Hal's uneasiness concerning Lorraine and Alymer Hermon was swallowed up
+almost immediately on Lorraine's return, by a sudden alarming change in
+Basil Hayward.  The first time she went to Holloway after Doris's
+elopement, she saw the decided symptoms of change, and her report to
+Dudley caused the latter once more, on his own responsibility, to
+request Sir John Maitland to pay a visit to the little flat.
+
+Sir John's report was the reverse of reassuring, and they all felt the
+end was at hand.  Dudley went to Holloway nearly every evening, and
+sometimes stayed until the middle of the night, to sit up with the sick
+man.
+
+Hal went from the office in the afternoons, two or three days each
+week.  When she was there the tenant from Flat G went home to snatch a
+short rest, in case a bad night lay ahead.
+
+Ethel went quietly on her way, looking as if already a sorrow had
+wrapped her round before which human aid and human sympathy were
+powerless.
+
+She went to the office as usual, and did her usual work, in nervous
+dread from hour to hour lest a telephone call should summon her in
+haste.  She scarcely spoke to any one but Hal; and not very much to
+her; but it was evident in a thousand little ways that she liked to
+have her near.
+
+With Dudley a new sort of coldness seemed to have sprung up.  He was
+self-conscious ill at ease with her now; anxious to show his sympathy,
+yet made awkward by his self-sown notion that he was antagonistic to
+her.  Ethel did not notice it very much.  All her thoughts were with
+Basil.
+
+Hal saw it and was troubled.  She was afraid the slight
+misunderstanding might grow into a barrier that it would be extremely
+difficult to break down later on.  However, she could only watch
+anxiously at present, and try in small ways to smooth out the growing
+difficulty.
+
+Basil himself was the most consistently cheerful of all.  He believed
+that he was near the end of his long martyrdom, and that in another
+sphere he would be given back his health and strength.
+
+He had seemed very worried at first about Doris and Dudley, but
+gradually he became philosophical over it, and hoped the future would
+bring united happiness to Dudley and Ethel.  He consigned her to
+Dudley's care and Hal's.
+
+To Dudley he merely said:
+
+"I know you'll always be a good friend to chum.  I'm thankful she will
+at least have you."
+
+Dudley did not say much in reply, but he looked sufficiently unhappy,
+and withal so glad of the service, that it spoke volumes.
+
+To Hal he said:
+
+"Chum is very fond of you, Hal.  You'll keep an eye on her, won't you?
+Perhaps there is no one else but you who can."
+
+Quick tears shone in Hal's eyes.
+
+"Of course I will... two eyes.. I don't know that I shall let her out
+of my sight at all."
+
+Other evening, because Dudley was so often at Holloway, Hal went to
+dinner with the Three Graces.  Dick often fetched her from the office,
+and they went back together.  Now that she had become interested in the
+East End, they had schemes to talk over, and she and Quin were never
+weary of discussing odd characters there, and odd histories, and plans
+for different amusements.
+
+Dick joined in a times, but was very busy with his new book.
+
+Alymer Hermon had grown strangely quiet.  At intervals, for the sake of
+old times, he and Hal sparring matches, but if, as wat not very usual,
+he happened to be at home, he was inclined to do little else but lounge
+and smoke, and watch her while presumably reading a paper.
+
+Hal did not notice it particularly.  She had many other things on her
+mind just then, and Alymer only filled a very small corner.  She was
+glad he was progressing so satisfactorily.  He was well started up the
+ladder now, and though he had had no single big chance to distinguish
+himself once for all, it was generally regarded as merely a matter of
+time.  She fancied she did not meet him so much at Lorraine's, but as
+she did not go nearly so often herself, on account of the Holloway
+visits, she could not really know.
+
+But she noticed that Lorraine also was a little different - a little
+more reserved and likewise quieter.  She seemed still to be ailing a
+good deal, and to have lost interest in her profession.
+
+Yet she did not seem unhappy.  On the contrary, Hal thought her happier
+than usual in an undemonstrative, dreamy sort of way.  She was
+interested in the East End social evenings, and on one occasion went
+herself.
+
+She was also interested in Basil Hayward, and motored up with lovely
+flowers for him; but she talked far less of the theatre, and seemed
+indisposed to consider a new part.
+
+"I want a real long rest this summer," she had said, "free from
+rehearsals and everything."
+
+In mid-June Sir Edwin was married, with a great deal of display, and
+much paragraphing of newspapers.  The day before the wedding, Hal
+received a beautiful gold watch and chain from him.
+
+"Do not be angry, and do not send it back," he wrote.  "Keep it and
+wear it in memory of some one who was known to you only, and who has
+since died.  To me, it is like honouring the memory of my best self if
+I can persuade you thus to perpetuate it.  Good-bye, Little Girl; and
+God bless you."
+
+Hal kept the watch and wore it, and the only one who demurred was
+Alymer Hermon.  It was spoken of at the Cromwell Road flat one evening,
+when he was present but taking no part in the conversation.  Dick
+admired it, and she told him it had been given to her recently.
+
+Qin was not there, and a moment later Dick was called away to speak to
+some one at the telephone.  Alymer looked up at Hal suddenly, with a
+very direct gaze.
+
+"Lorraine told me Sir Edwin gave you the watch the other day.  I don't
+know how you can keep it, much less wear it.  You ought to throw it
+into the Thames."
+
+Hal flushed up angrily.
+
+"Of course I'm interested in your opinion on the matter," she said,
+"but I had not thought of asking for it."
+
+Hermon flushed too, but he stood his ground.
+
+"It would be the opinion of most men."
+
+"Most men 'don't appeal to me in the least.  I am quite satisfied with
+my own opinion in this matter."
+
+"Still, I wish you wouldn't wear it," he urged, a little boyishly.
+"The man has shown himself a cad.  He was in a tight corner, and he let
+a woman buy him out."
+
+"And don't most men take help from a woman at some time or other?"
+
+He winced, but answered sturdily:
+
+"Not monetary help.  Besides, he didn't worry much about getting you
+talked of, did he?"
+
+Hal was just going to make a sarcastic retort, when Dick reappeared,
+and the matter was dropped.
+
+But when she came to think of it afterwards, she could not but a little
+struck at Alymer's attitude, and wondered why he had taken so much
+interest in her action.
+
+A few days later Basil Hayward died.
+
+Hal was not there at the time, but Dudley had not come home at all the
+previous night, and she was afraid that his friend was worse.  In the
+afternoon she had been detained at the office, and she hardly liked to
+go up to Holloway in the evening without knowing if she was wanted.
+
+So she sat anxiously waiting for Dudley.  When at last he arrived he
+looked haggard and worn and ill.  Hal stood up when he came in, and
+waited for him to speak.
+
+"It's all over," he said, and sank into his chair as if he were
+dead-beat.
+
+Hal's hart ached with sympathy.  She felt instinctively there was more
+here than grief for a friend whose death could only be regarded as a
+merciful release.
+
+She was right.  For the last three weeks Dudley and Ethel had been in
+almost daily contact beside the dying man's bed.  Silently, devotedly
+they had served him together.
+
+But while Ethel was occupied only with the sufferer, Dudley, in the
+long night-watches, had seen at last what manner of woman it was he had
+passed by for the pretty, shallow, selfish little sister.
+
+Ever since the elopement, three months ago, he had been changing.  It
+had been the bitter blow that had stabbed him awake.  In some
+mysterious way new aspects, new ideas, new understanding, began to
+develop, where before had been chiefly a narrow outlook and rigid
+conformity.
+
+It was though in the fulfilling of her work, Life had harrowed his soul
+with a bitter harrowing, that it might bring forth the better fruit in
+its season.  The harrowing had seared and scarred, but aldready the new
+richness was showing, the new promise of a nobler future.
+
+The All-wise Mother works very much in human life as she does in nature
+- topping off a hope here, and a hope there; ploughing, pruning,
+harrowing the soil and branches of the mind and spirit, that they may
+bring forth rich fruit in due season.
+
+The life that she passes by unheeded, leaving it only to the sunshine
+and wind and rain, often grows little else but rank vegetation, and
+develops rust and mould - never the crops that are life-giving and
+life-sustaining to the world; never the great thoughts, great deeds,
+wide sympathies, that raise mankind to the skies.
+
+But for Dudley the harrowing was not yet finished.  Perhaps, indeed, no
+moment of all had been quite so bitter as the sense of his utter
+unworthiness and utter incapability to help Ethel in her hour of direst
+need.
+
+The mere thought unnerved him for the little he might have done.  He
+was so imbued with the idea of his helplessness, that he could only
+stammer a few broken sentences she seemed scarcely capable of hearing.
+
+He had but one consolation.  Towards the end, the sick man, suddenly
+opening his eyes, looked round for his sister, and seeing she was
+absent, had regarded Dudley with his whole face full of a question.
+
+Dudley leant down to him.
+
+"Yes, old chap," he asked tenderly.  "What is it?"
+
+"Ethel... chum... you will try and help her?"
+
+Then Dudley, with his new understanding, had grasped all that the dying
+man hoped.
+
+"I love her," he said very simply.  "I have been a blind fool, but I am
+awake now.  I shall give my life to trying to win her."
+
+"Oh! thank God... thank God," Basil whispered.  "It is certain to come
+right some day - don't lose heart.  You have made me very happy."
+
+He sank into stupor after that, and spoke no more, except for a
+whispered "Chum", just before he died.
+
+Then it was that the full flood of Dudley's bitterness seemed to close
+in upon him, for his tortured mind translated Ethel's stunned grief
+into veiled antipathy to his presence; and when there was nothing left
+for him to see to, he went home for Hal.
+
+In his chair, with his head bowed on his hands, Hal thought he had aged
+years in the last three months.
+
+"What shall I do?" she asked.  "Shall I go to Ethel?"
+
+"Yes - will you?  She doesn't want me.  I feel as if she hated my being
+there now.  But if you would go -?"
+
+"It is your imagination, Dudley.  Things have all got a little
+topsy-turvy since Doris went, but presently you will see you were
+mistaken.  Don't lose heart too quickly."
+
+But he refused to be comforted, and merely shook his head in silent
+desolation.
+
+"You'll stay with her if she wants you?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I'll stay"; and she went away to get her hat.
+
+As she mounted the stairs in Holloway, the door of Flat G opened as if
+some one within had been listening for her, and a stealthy head peeped
+out.  Then a hand beckoned.
+
+Hal crossed the landing and went inside the door.  The poor
+music-teacher's face was swollen almost past recognition with crying.
+
+""What am I to do?... what am I to do?" she moaned, rocking herself
+backwards and forwards.  "There was only one thing in all the world
+that made my life worth living, and now it is gone."
+
+She sobbed bitterly for a few minutes, softened by Hal's sympathetic
+presence, then she told her brokenly:
+
+"They're all mourning.  Every single soul in this dreary building.
+Considering he never left the flat, it's wonderful - wonderful; but he
+knew all the children, and they all knew him.  And if you know the
+children you know the fathers and mothers.
+
+"Little Splodgkins, as we always called him, has been sitting like a
+small stone effigy on the stairs outside his door.  He has patrolled
+the whole staircase for days, keeping the other children quiet.  I told
+Mr. Hayward, and he sent him a message.  He said, 'Tell him to grow up
+a fine man, and fight for his country, and not to forget me before we
+meet again.'  The little chap fought back his tears when I gave him the
+message, and he said: 'Tell him, I thaid dammit, tho I will.'
+But they're young, and they've got each other, most of the other folks
+here, and I've got nothing - nothing.  Miss Pritchard, I can't go on
+again the same - I can't - I can't."
+
+"You must help Miss Hayward, at any rate for a time," Hal told her; "if
+you didn't you would be failing him now; and even little Splodgkins
+doesn't mean to do that."
+
+"No, of course you're right.  I can light the fire for her in the
+afternoon and put the kettle on.  It isn't much to be alive for, but
+he'd say it was worth while.  He'd say, 'What would she do without a G
+in the alphabet?' wouldn't he?  I must remember.  And now you must go
+to her.  It's worse for her than me, only that she's still got all her
+life before her, and she's very attractive, while I never seemed to
+please any one in my life but him."
+
+"Yes; I must go now," Hal said; "but I'll come and see you again.  Come
+down east with me next Wednesdayn evening, to a social evening in the
+slums, will you?  They're so interesting.  We'll have tea together
+first.  I'll arrange to take you, and then you'll meet Dick."
+
+"Good-bye for the present."
+
+Then she crossed the landing, wondering with a sinking heart how she
+could ever hope to comfort Ethel.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+
+It was not until a spell of exhaustingly hot weather set in in early
+July that Hal saw a still more noticeable frailty in Lorraine.
+
+She was quite unable to act, and spent a great deal of time on her sofa
+near the window, where she could just distinguish the river through the
+trees.  It seemed to have a growing fascination for her.
+
+"I've always thought," she told Hal one day, "how I'd like to go away
+from the fret and worry of London, smoothly down the river to a haven
+of sunshine and sea."
+
+"Why don't you go, Lorry.  Why not go at once, before you get any
+weaker?"
+
+"I think I must.  This sultry heat is too much for me, and I'm very
+tired of London and everything belonging to it.  I should like to have
+gone to my old haven on the Italian Riviera, but it would be too hot."
+
+"Why so far?"
+
+Lorraine glanced at Hal with a strange expression in her eyes, as she
+said:
+
+"It is a greater rest to get right away.  I shall try some little place
+in Brittany.  Switzerland is so overrun with tourists in the summer."
+
+When she was alone, some of the quiet went out of Lorraine's face and a
+restless look of pain crept in.  She shaded her eyes and gazed long at
+the river.
+
+That old spirit of recklessness, which had caused her to hurl scorn and
+defiance at Mrs. Hermon's emissary, and afterwards allow Alymer to
+visit her at the little fishing-village, against his wiser judgment,
+had passed away now, and given place to one of poignant questioning - a
+spirit of questioning concerning that mad action of hers, and its
+results.  She could not find it in her heart to regret it, not for one
+moment; but nevertheless her mind was sore troubled concerning the
+future for Alymer and herself.
+
+And at the back of all the questioning there sounded ever an insistent
+call to renounce - something above and beyond all desire and all
+seeming, which told her she must not remain in his life, that, as far
+as she was concerned, he must be free for the great work of his future.
+
+And yet how hard it was to go!  Ever and anon her longing whispered,
+"Why seek a crisis yet?  Why not go on the same a little longer?"
+
+But since, before long, she would be compelled to go, and since the
+nausea of London was gaining upon her, she began to feel it would
+certainly be wiser to start at once, and find some homely, quiet spot
+where she could remain in privacy, with her identity unknown for some
+months.
+
+And always that quiet voice in the background insisted that she must
+cut herself off from Alymer Hermon.
+
+Soon after Hal had left her he came in, and, standing as usual upon the
+hearth, regarded her with grave eyes.  He was nearly always grave now,
+as with some recollection that weighed heavily on his mind.
+
+Lorraine tried to rally him, but without much success; and a pitiless
+thought that had sometimes assailed her of late - that he regretted
+their friendship and everything connected with it, struck icily on her
+heart.
+
+He was too loyal to show it, and yet, that strong instinct of
+womanhood, which reads closed books as if they were spread open to the
+light, sounded its warning note.  He would never blame her openly, but
+in his heart he was already beginning to find it a little difficult not
+to do so secretly.
+
+"You can't go away alone, Lorry," he said unhappily, "and I can't
+possibly come with you."
+
+"Of course you can't," cheerfully.  "It isn't to be thought of for a
+moment.  I don't know whether you can even come and see me.  You
+certainly mustn't run any risks just now.  Flip tells me Hall is
+interested, and you may get your big chance shortly through him."
+
+"Still, I shall feel rather a beast."
+
+"You mustn't do anything so silly."
+
+She got up and came and stood near him, leaning her face against his
+arm.
+
+"If you will write to me often, dearie, I shall be all right.  If you
+worry I shall be miserable.  Try to understand that you have done
+nothing to make me unhappy.  A little while ago I had a dream of how I
+longed to go away with a little one of my own, to some quiet spot far
+removed from all I have ever known.    If I am to realise my dream, how
+should I not be happy?  It is what I asked life to give me."
+
+But his eyes lost none of their gravity.  It was evident, in the midst
+of his dawning success, some cloud had descended upon his horizon, and
+shrouded much of the sunlight.
+
+Lorraine's sensitive temperament read it quickly, and she decided, for
+his sake, to hasten her departure.  She thought her continued presence
+in London under the circumstances was a continual anxiety to him, and
+that he would only breathe freely when she was safe in Brittany.
+
+She did not know - how should she - that after that week's madness on
+the southern coast there had come rather a terrible revelation to the
+man whom fortune seemed to be smothering with favours.
+
+It had not come all at once.  It had been there, or at any rate the
+gist of it, for some time.  But when it was present in full force, it
+had the power to make all the adulation, triumph, and hopefulness of
+his career seem but a small thing and of little account, because of one
+great desire beyound his reach.
+
+It came definitely into being during those many evenings Hal spent at
+the Cromwell Road flat, when Dudley was away in Holloway with his
+friend.
+
+It reached a climax of realisation when she openly wore the watch and
+chain Sir Edwin had sent to her.  The night he asked her not to wear
+it, and she tautingly refused, saw him, with all his success and
+favours, one of the most perplexed and unhappy men in London.
+
+It was just the waywardness of the little god Love.  The fair d�butantes
+with money and influence had left him untouched.  No older woman but
+Lorraine had disturbed his peace, or appealed to his deepest affections.
+
+It was left to Hal, the mocker, the outspoken, the impatient of giant
+inches and splendid head, to awaken his heart to all its richness of
+strong, enduring love.
+
+And what did it mean to her?
+
+The sunshine and the joy might go out of all he was winning and
+achieving, if it might not be won and achieved for her - but what did
+she care - what was she ever likely to care?
+
+Had she not always dealt him laughter and careless scorn where other
+women bowed down?  Had she not, over and over, weighed him in the
+balance, in that quiet, direct way of hers, and seen the weak strain
+that had always been there?  First the lack of purpose, the idle
+indifference, which, in a different guise, had led up to a memory which
+now tortured his mind - the memory of a mad week; of love that was not
+love, because his whole soul was not given with it - nay, worse, was
+actually given in unconsciousness elsewhere.  If she ever knew of that,
+what must her indignation and scorn be then?...  Would it not indeed
+separate them for ever?
+
+And even if it did, could it make hi unlove her?...  Why should it,
+since he had waited no encoouragement before he gave her all?  If he
+knew why he loved her, it might.
+
+But he did not even know that.  It was a thing outside questioning;
+something he seemed to have had no free will about.  It was just there
+- a strong, undeniable fact.
+
+Why reason?  It did not _need_ reasoning.  He loved her.  He would
+always love her - simply because she was Hal - and as Hal, to him, was
+the one woman who filled his heart.
+
+No; Lorraine dit not know just what fire of repentance and
+self-condemnation and hopeless aching her recklessness had lit for him;
+but it was enough that his gravity grew and deepened, and she believed
+she could lighten it.
+
+She made immediate plans; cancelled her present engagement at
+considerable monetary loss to herself, and almost before any of them
+realised it, had vanished to a little out-of-the-way spot in Brittany,
+alone with Jean.
+
+Hal was quite unhappy that she could not go to her for her own summer
+holiday, but Dick Bruce's people were taking her to Norway with them,
+and she would not have a day to spare.
+
+She made Alymer promise to run across and see how she was, if possible,
+and then departed without any suspicions or forebodings, with Dudley
+and Dick to join the rest of the party at Hull, whence they were to
+start for the Fiords.
+
+When she returned early in September, Lorraine was still away, and her
+letters gave no hint of returning.  Still a little anxious, she sought
+an interview with Alymer, asking him to meet her for tea the following
+day.
+
+The instant they met, Hal saw  the change in him, and exclaimed in
+surprise:
+
+"Haven't you had a holiday?  You don't look very grand."
+
+Unable to meet her eyes, he turned away towards a small table.
+
+"Oh yes, I've had a holiday.  I've been in France studying the
+language.  I can talk like a French froggy now."
+
+"Then of course, you saw Lorraine?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I wanted to see you about Lorry," with direct, straight gaze.
+
+He steadied his features with an effort.
+
+"I guessed so."
+
+"Well, what is the matter with her?"
+
+"Nothing very much.  She got thoroughly low I think, and is not pulling
+up very quickly."
+
+"I don't understand it," with puzzled, doubtful eyes.  "Lorry is not
+like that.  She is quite strong really.  She has only once before gone
+under like this, and then it was a mental strain.  I wonder if it is
+anything the same again?  Did you see much of her?"
+
+"I saw her four or five times."
+
+"And she didn't tell you anything?"
+
+"Anything about what?"
+
+"Well - about her husband, for instance.  He isn't worrying her again,
+is he?"
+
+"She did not speak of him at all."
+
+"Then what is it?...  I wish she had not gone so far away.  I wish I
+could get to her.  Did she say when she might be coming back?"
+
+"Not at present.  She likes being there.  She does not want to come
+back."
+
+"That's what I can't understand.  Something odd seems to have changed
+her.  Have you thought so."
+
+"I don't think it odd in Lorraine to fancy a long spell of country
+life.  She was always loved the country."
+
+"Not alone," with decision, "except for a good reason.  I feel there is
+a reason now, and I do not know it."
+
+Suddenly she gave him another direct look.
+
+"You are changed too.  You are years older.  Is it your advancing
+success, or what? ...  I don't say it isn't becoming," with a dash of
+her old banter - "but it seems sudden."
+
+He raised his eyes slowly and looked into her face with an expression
+that in some way hurt her.  It was the look of a devoted dog, craving
+forgiveness.
+
+She pushed her cup away impatiently, half laughing and half serious.
+
+"Don't look at me like that, Baby," striving blindly to rally him -
+"you make me feel as if I had smacked you."
+
+He laughed to reassure her, and changed the subject to Norway, trying
+to keep her mind from further questioning concerning himself and
+Lorraine.
+
+After tea she left him to go down to Shoreditch with Dick, first
+meeting him and the forlorn "G" at the Cheshire Cheese for their usual
+high tea.
+
+It had become quite an institution now that "G" should join them, and,
+as Hal had predicted, she and Dick were firm friends.  It was the
+brightest spot of the music-teacher's life since Basil Hayward died,
+and neither of them would have disappointed her for the world if they
+could help it.
+
+To-night Quin was there also, so Hal was able to get a few words
+privately with Dick.
+
+"What in the world is the matter with Alymer?" she asked.  "I had tea
+with him this afternoon.  He seems awfully down on his luck."
+
+"I don't know what it is," Dick answered.  "He is certainly not very
+gay - yet that last case he won before the Law Courts closed should
+have put him in fine feather for the whole vacation.  Did you ask him
+if anything was wrong?"
+
+"Yes; but he would only prevaricate.  He has been in France, you know,
+studying the language, and he saw Lorraine, but he says very little
+about her.  I wish I had time to go over and see her.  Why, in the name
+of goodness, is she not acting this winter?"
+
+But Dick could not help her to any solution, and an accumulation of
+work kept her too busy to brood on the puzzle.
+
+It was at the end of October the shock came.
+
+Hal reached home before Dudley that evening, and found a foreign letter
+awaiting her, written in an unfamiliar handwriting, and bearing the
+post mark of the little village where Lorraine so obstinately remained.
+ With an instant sense of apprehension, she tore open the envelope, and
+read its contents with incredulity, amazement, and anxiety struggling
+together in her face.
+
+Then she sat down in the nearest chair with a gasp, and stared blankly
+at the window, as if she could not grasp the import of the bewildering
+news.
+
+The letter was from Jean, partly in French, and partly in English.  It
+informed Hal, in somewhat ambiguous phrases, that La Ch�re Madame was
+very ill, and daily growing weaker, and she, Jean, was very worried and
+unhappy about her.  She thought if mademoiselle could possibly get
+away, she should come at once.  It then went on to make a statement
+which took Hal's breath away.
+
+"L'enfant!... l'enfant!..." she repeated in a gasping sort of
+undertone, and stared with bewildered eyes at the window.
+
+What could have happened?...  What dit it all mean?
+
+Then with a rush all the full significance seemed to come to her.
+Lorraine, ill and alone in that little far-away village, and this
+incomprehensible thing coming upon her; no one but a paid, though
+devoted maid to take care of her; no friend to help er in the
+inevitable hours of dread, and perhaps painful memories and
+apprehensions.
+
+All her quick, warm-hearted sympathy welled up and filled her soul.  Of
+course she must go at once, to-night if possible, or early to-morrow.
+
+Yet as she struggled to collect her thoughts and form plans, she was
+conscious of a dumb, nervous cry: "What will Dudley say?...  What in
+the world will Dudley say?"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI
+
+
+He came in while she was still trying to compose herself for the
+struggle she anticipated; and because she had not yet made any headway,
+he saw at once that something alarming had happened.
+
+He glanced at the envelope lying on the table, then at the open letter
+in her hand, and then at her face.
+
+"What is the matter?...  Have you had bad news?"
+
+For one dreadful moment, observing the foreign stamp, he thought
+something might have happened to Ethel, who was taking her month's
+holiday on the Continent.  When Hal looked blankly into his face, as if
+quite unable to tell him, he added hurriedly:
+
+"Is your letter about Ethel? ... Is she Ill?"
+
+"No, it is not Ethel," Hal answered, noticing, in spite of her
+distress, his unconcealed anxiety.  "Some one is ill, but it is not
+Ethel."
+
+"Is it Lorraine?"
+
+He spoke with quiet, kindly concern now, being reassured concerning the
+swift dread that had sized him.
+
+"Yes," Hal said nervously.  "She is very ill.  Dudley, I must go to her
+at once."
+
+She got up as if she could not bear the strain seated, and moved away
+to the window.
+
+"It's all rather terrible," speaking hurriedly; "but don't... don't...
+be upset about it.  I can't bear it.  I _must_ go, whatever you say,
+and I want you to help me."
+
+"What is the matter?"  He came close to her and tried to see her face.
+"What has happened, Hal?"
+
+"Lorry is in trouble."  She was half crying now; "I have had a letter
+from Jean.  She has told me something I did not know.  I did not even
+suspect it.  But I must go.  You will surley see that I must go,
+Dudley."
+
+"Tell me what it is," he said, in a voice so kind, she turned and
+looked into his face, almost in surprise.  He met her eyes, and,
+reading all the distress there, he added:
+
+"Don't be afraid, Hal.  I know I was an awful prig a little while ago,
+but... but... it's not the same since Doris jilted me, and since Basil
+died.  I see many things differently now.  Tell me Lorraine's trouble."
+
+"She is so ill, because if she lives until next December she will have
+a little one.  Oh, do you understand, Dudley?  She is there all alone,
+because she made a mess of her life and is obliged to hide.  I must go
+to her.  You will help me, won't you?"
+
+She glanced at him doubtfully, and then a swift relief seemed to fill
+her face.
+
+"Yes, certainly you must go,' he said gravely; "if Jean says she is ill
+now, I think you should go at once, and see for yourself just how
+things are."
+
+"Oh, how good of you.  I was afraid you would be angry and object."
+
+He smiled a little sadly.
+
+"I've enough money in hand for your ticket.  You can catch the early
+boat train, and I'll send some more by to-morrow's post.  Had you
+better see Mr. Elliott about being absent from the office for a day or
+two, or shall I see him in the morning?"
+
+"He won't mind.  I've got everything straight since I came back, and
+Miss White will do my work for a day or two.  If you would see him in
+the morning, and just tell him Miss Vivian is very ill and I was sent
+for.  He knows what friends we are, and would understand."
+
+"Very well.  Now you must have some dinner, and get to bed, for you
+will have a long, anxious day to-morrow."
+
+In a sudden rush of feeling, she put her hands on his shoulders and
+kissed him.
+
+"I'm so grateful," she said, in a quivering voice.  "I can't tell you.
+It has all come upon me as a shock.  I had not the faintest suspicion."
+
+It was not natural to him to be demonstrative, and he only turned away
+with a slight embarrassment, saying:
+
+"I'm sure you hadn't.  But I feel I can trust you now, Hal, to be
+discreet as well as quixotic.  Your mission, if one can call it such,
+will need both."
+
+Then he sought to distract her mind for the present, and while they
+dined he talked of many things to interest her.
+
+"Do you know that Alymer Hermon has just got the chance of his life?"
+he told her, before they rose.  "I head to-day he is to appear with
+Hall in this big libel case.  Sir James Jameson told me at the Club.
+He said Hall had taken a great fancy to him, and if he does really well
+over this case he's going to take him up.  He is very fortunate.  Not
+one man in a thousand would get such a chance at his age.  I hope he
+will do well; I like him; and if he isn't a success over this he may
+never get such an opportunity again."
+
+"When does the case come on?"
+
+"Almost at once, I think, but it probably will not last more than two
+or three days."
+
+When Hal said good-night to him, she remarked shyly:
+
+"I heard from Ethel last night.  She loves the Austrian Tyrol.  She
+said she hoped you were better for your trip to Norway."
+
+His forehead contracted a little, and he did not look up from the book
+he had just opened.
+
+"Is she better herself?  Is she any happier?"
+
+Hal looked thoughtfully into the fire.
+
+"I think she is very lonely.  I don't think she will be much happier
+until... until... there is some one to take Basil's place."
+
+"No one can do that."  He spoke a little shortly.  "Basil was a hero.
+I do not know how she is ever to love a lesser man."
+
+"If she loved a man, she would easily see heroic qualities in him.  She
+could not love a man who was without them; but that does not mean he
+need actually be a hero by any means."
+
+She longed to say more, but was diffident of doing greater harm than
+good.  At last she ventured:
+
+"I have sometimes thought she has a warm corner in her heart for you,
+Dudley."
+
+"For me! ... "  He gave a low, harsh laugh for very misery.  "No; she
+despises me.  She has done for some time.  I'm sorry.  I'd change it if
+I could, but it's too late now."
+
+Hal moved towards the door.
+
+"It is rather a slur on Ethel to suggest that she could possibly
+despise Basil's best friend.  Don't let an idea like that take root,
+Dudley.  'Lookers on see most of the game," you know, and what I have
+seen has suggested quite differently.  Good-night."
+
+"Good-night.  Try to sleep.  I'll take you to Charing Cross myself."
+
+The next morning Hal started off alone, to find her way to Lorraine's
+hiding-place, and give her what comfort of friendship she could.
+
+And all the time she asked herself with harried thoughts,  "Who has
+brought this trouble into Lorraine's life?"
+
+And at the back of her mind was the dread premonition "Was it indeed
+Alymer Hermon?"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII
+
+
+When Hal first saw her old friend she was almost too shocked for words
+at the swift change in her.  Lorraine tried hard to smile cheerfully,
+but she could not hide any longer from herself how seriously ill she
+had grown, and she felt it useless to try and hide it from Hal.
+
+Jean had not told her of the letter, and she knew nothing of Hal's
+coming until she was actually in the house.  When she saw her, she
+could have cried for gladness.
+
+"How good of you, Hal... how good of you!" she breathed, and Hal, on
+her knees by the couch, in an unsteady voice replied:
+
+"Oh, why didn't you send for me sooner?  Why didn't you let me come
+here instead of going to Norway?"
+
+An hour later she went out to the little post office, and wired to
+London to know if she might remain away for a week.
+
+It was evident Lorraine was very ill indeed and needing the utmost care.
+
+During the day she seemed to grow steadily worse, and she could not
+bear Hal out of her sight.
+
+"I don't know whether you are shocked or not," she said to her once,
+"but if everything goed all right I shall not regret what I have done
+for one moment.  I wanted something more real for the rest of my life
+than I have had in its beginning."  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  "I
+wanted his child to live for."
+
+With a caressing hand on the sick woman's, Hal asked in a low voice:
+
+"Why isn't he here taking care of you now?  Where is you child's
+father?"
+
+A swift surprise passed through Lorraine's eyes, as if it had not
+occured to her Hal would not know the truth.  Then she said, very
+softly, "Alymer."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The exclamation seemed wrung from Hal unconsciously, and after it her
+lips grew strangely rigid.
+
+"Hal," Lorraine said weakly, "I've loved Alymer almost ever since I
+first saw him.  I swore I would not harm his career, and I have not.  I
+will not in future.  But the child is his, and I thank God for it.  I
+do not believe an illegitimate child with a devoted mother is any worse
+off than the legitimate child with a selfish, unloving one.  That there
+is love enough matters the most.  What can any child have better than a
+life's devotion?"
+
+Later on she said:
+
+"This is his great week, Hal.  In his last letter he tells me his big
+chance has come at last through Sir Philip Hall.  We always hoped it
+would.  It is the big libel case, and if Sir Philip chooses he can let
+him take a very prominent part.  He will, I  am sure of it.  He is very
+interested in him, and he has given him this chance on purpose.  Flip
+thinks it will lead to a great deal; and of course if so it is splendid
+for him."
+
+Hal said very little.  She was overcome at the revelation Lorraine had
+made, and seemed quite unable to grasp it.
+
+Meanwhile she waited fearfully for the crisis the doctor had told her
+was impending.  She was expecting him to call again, and was relieved
+when at last he arrived bringing a pleasant-faced French nurse with him.
+
+She relinquished her post then, and waited for him anxiously
+downstairs.  When he came he told her he must have another opinion at
+once, and Hal knew that something serious was wrong, and that he feared
+the worst.
+
+The next morning, when she saw Lorraine again, she understood that they
+had saved her life, but probably only for a few days at the most.
+
+Lorraine was almost too weak to speak, but she looked into Hal's eyes,
+and in her own there was a dumb imploring.  Hal leant down and murmured:
+
+"What is it, Lorry?...  Do you want Alymer?"
+
+"Yes," was the faint whisper.  "I feel it is the end.  I want so much
+to see him once more."
+
+"I will go to London myself, and fetch him," Hal said, and a look of
+rest crept into the dying woman's eyes.
+
+So it happened that the day before the great libel case Hal stood in
+Hermon's chambers, and delivered her message.
+
+It was a tense moment - a moment of warring instincts, warring
+inclinations, conflicting fates.  It was surely the very irony of
+ironies, that within sight of his goal, with all this woman had
+manoeuvred to give him almost in his hands, she should be the one to
+step suddenly between him and the realisation of everything his life
+had striven for.
+
+To fail Sir Philip Hall at the eleventh hour, under such circumstance,
+could only mean an irreparable disaster.  He would lose, as far as his
+profession was concerned, in every single way.  It would strike a blow
+at his progress, from which it might never wholly recover.
+
+No wonder, confronted with the sudden demand life had flung at him, he
+stood stock still, with rigid face, almost overcome by the swift
+sword-thrust of fate, and made no reply.
+
+Since Hal told him, in a few, rather abrupt words, her story, he had
+scarcely looked at her.  When she first entered his room so
+unexpectedly, his eyes had searched her face as if he would read
+instantly what she had come for?...  what she had learnt?...  Before
+hers, his gaze fell.
+
+"I have come from Lorraine," she said, and he understood that she knew
+all.
+
+A dull red crept over his face and neck, and then died away, leaving
+him of an ashy paleness.  He was standing by his desk, and he reached
+out one hand and rested it on some books, gripping the backs of them
+with a grip that made his knuckles stand out like white knots.  He did
+not ask Hal to sit down.  Commonplace amenities died in the stress of
+the moment.
+
+She stood in the middle of the room, very straight and very still.  In
+a close-fitting travelling-dress she looked unusually slim, almost
+boyish, and something about her attitude rather suggested a youthful
+knight, sword in hand, come with vengeance to the Transgressor.  Yet,
+even in his shame and stunned perplexity, Hermon lost no shred of
+dignity.
+
+He towered above her, with bend head, rigid, white face, grave,
+downcast eyes, and in spite of every reproach her attitude seemed to
+hurl at him, het yet wore the look of nobility that was his birtright.
+
+"When do you think I should go?" he asked at last, with difficulty.
+
+"We ought to cross to-night."
+
+"To-night! - I - I - have a very important case to-morrow.  It will not
+last long.  It matters a great deal."
+
+"I know," was the short, uncompromising answer.
+
+He looked up with a swift glance of inquiry.  Then he said quietly:
+
+"Do you know that it may wreck my future to leave London to-night?"
+
+"Yes," said Hal.  "I know."
+
+"And after all Lorraine did not help me to this hour of success, am I
+to throw away my chance?"
+
+"Lorraine is dying.  Her dying wish is to see you once more.  Is it
+necessary to discuss anything else?"
+
+Again there was silence between them - silence so intense, so poignant,
+it was like a live thing present in the room.  Through the double
+windows came a far-off, muffled sound of the traffic in the Strand, but
+it seemed to have nothing whatever to do with the life of that quiet
+room.  It dit not disturb the silence, in which one could almost hear
+pulse-beats.  It belonged to another world.
+
+Once Alymer raised his head and looked hard into her face.  In his eyes
+there was an expression of utter hopelessness.  She had not spoken any
+word of reproach or scorn, yet everything about her as she stood there
+erect and passionless, and without one grain of sympathy for his
+struggle, told him that, just as far as her natural broadness allowed
+her to condemn any one, she condemned him.
+
+For a moment a sort of savage recklessness seized him.  He felt
+suddenly he was stranded high-and-dry on a barren rock, with nothing at
+all any more in his world but his profession.  He had lost all hope of
+ever winning Hal, which seemed to be all hope of anything worth having.
+ Nothing remained but the hollow interest of a great name, and the lust
+of power.  He had it in his mind for those brief, passionate moments,
+because he had lost all else, to insist upon taking his chance.
+
+Even one day's grace might save him.  The trial would perhaps last not
+more than two, but in any case, a wire reaching him in the middle,
+which he could show to Sir Philip, might mean all the difference
+between success and failure.  The wire could be worded to hide what was
+truly involved, and the plea of a life-and-death urgency would set him
+free without any awkward questioning.
+
+He glanced up to speak, and once again Hal's attitude arrested him.
+She looked so young, so fresh, so true, so vaguely splendid, in spite
+of the rigid lips that seemed to have closed down tightly upon all she
+must have suffered in the last fort-eight hours.
+
+She was not looking at him now, but, with her head thrown back a
+little, she gazed silently and fatefully at the clock on his
+mantelpiece.
+
+And something about her called to him, with the calling of the great,
+mysterious things, a calling that shamed and scorned that spirit of
+savage recklessness; that swift, relentless lust of power.
+
+"What is anything in the world,' it seemed to cry, "compared to being
+true to one's friend; true to one's word; true to one's love?"
+
+He saw suddenly that in any case success and triumph would bring him
+little enough to gladden his heart; that whichever way he turned was
+gloom and darkness; that in that gloom a possible ray of light still
+linger, if he could keep always the consciousness that, at the most
+critical hour of his life, he had rung true.
+
+He raised his eyes suddenly, and straightened himself.
+
+"What time does the next train leave?" he said.  "I am coming."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII
+
+
+After Hal had left, Lorraine sank into a stupor from weakness, and
+remained thus until towards evening.  Then she revived, and seemed to
+comprehend better all that had happened; all that was happening still.
+
+She knew that the child she had dreamed of would never lie in her amrs
+and look up at her with Alymer's eyes.  She knew that in the first
+awful moments of realisation, and deathly weakness, her whole soul had
+so craved to see Alymer again that she had asked for him.
+
+A few moments later the stupor had come down upon her exhausted senses,
+and without any further word or thought from her, Hal had gone on her
+errand.
+
+At first, in the darkened room where she had suffered so much, she
+remembered only that very soon Alymer might be with her.  And the
+thought, while it quickened her pulses, yet made her feel almost faint
+with the longing for him to come quickly.  What if they were delayed,
+and this terrible weakness took her away from him without a last
+meeting.
+
+The thought that death was approaching did not frighten her.  She
+rather welcomed it.  When she left London in the summer, she had felt
+that she could never go back.  She had already fixed in her mind the
+picture of the quiet haven, where she would live restfully with
+Alymer's child - far away from the turmoil that had marked her life
+almost from its earliest beginning, and safe from slander.
+
+She dit not mind for herself.  The things that most women valued, no
+longer held much meaning for her.  She had experienced more than most;
+learned more than most how empty success and triumph may become;
+sounded for herself the shallowness of many things that society regards
+as prizes.
+
+She had been tired for a long time.  Now the tiredness had reached a
+climax.  If the quiet haven might not bless her life, it was, on the
+whole, better that she should die.
+
+This quiet fatalism only increased her longing to see Alymer once more.
+ It was the one thing in all existence left to long for.  It merged
+every remaining faculty into one desire.  And Hal would bring him.  Hal
+never failed any one.
+
+Then came the night, and instead of a quiet sleep, restlessness seized
+her.  The recollection of the lawsuit which was to make Alymer's name
+once for all, came back again and again with merciless insistence,
+fighting like some desperate thing that last, one, great desire.  Try
+as she would to smother it, after a little period of rest it came back
+stronger than ever.
+
+In vain she told herself that when he knew she was dying he would have
+no wish but to hasten to her.  In vain, she said also, that success
+would no longer mean all it had done; that with love crying to him from
+a death-bed, he would understand its emptiness and scorn it.
+
+Another voice, the voice of her truest self, answered:  "Ah! but he is
+young.  Remember he is young - young - young - and you, when you were
+his age, cared terribly to succeed.  You say now that success is empty,
+but at least you had the satisfaction of learning the fact for
+yourself.  You did not have to take another's word for it, and let your
+chance pass you by, just at the moment of grasping it.  If he is to be
+left without you, what will he have then to make up for the great
+moment lost?
+
+"Nay, worse - what will he have left to spur him to try and regain his
+proud position, and go on up the heights of fame?  And for you, of all
+people, to deal this blow to his future - the ambitious future which
+you yourself have fostered and nourished with such care."
+
+The hours wore on, and still, in spite of the awful physical
+exhaustion, the mental battle raged, draining away strength that should
+have been carefully nursed for each bad hour of many days ahead.  The
+nurse watched beside her with growing alarm, seeing the feverishness
+and restlessness, where absolute quiet was imperative.
+
+At last she went to her softly, and said, in a sweet, low voice:
+
+"Madame is in trouble.  Madame is fretting.  It is not good.  Madame
+must try to rest."
+
+Lorraine turned her feverish, pain-driven eyes to the kindly face, with
+a lookf of beseeching, but she made no reply.
+
+The nurse laid her cool hand on the burning forehead.
+
+"Madame is not a Catholic, but the priest brings healing to all.  Shall
+I ask him to come and pray, that peace may be given to the sick mind?"
+
+"I cannot confess," Lorraine breathed a little gaspingly.  "I could not
+bring myself to it."
+
+"It is not necessary.  The priest will come to pray if madame wishes."
+
+"Yes," was the low response; "please ask him."
+
+The little old man who took care of the souls of the little old-world
+village, and had done for three parts of a century, came to her at
+once, with a womanly tenderness in his face.  In a low voice he blessed
+her, and then knelt down and prayed quietly.
+
+After a time, som of the anguish died out of Lorraine's eyes.  She
+turned to him weakly and said:
+
+"I am not a Catholic.  I do not know if I am anything, but I want to
+ask you something.  If one has sinned, and led another astray, might an
+act of renunciation perhaps save that other from the consequences of
+the sin that was not his?"
+
+"Self-sacrifice and renunciation are ever pleasing to God," he told her
+simply.  "He knows that whatever else there is in a heart, with
+self-sacrifice there is also purity and nobility."
+
+"If I thought I alone need bear the consequences, I think I could do
+anything," she whispered - "bear anything, renounce anything."
+
+Again the quiet soothing of a prayer fell on her ears.  She listened,
+and heard the old priest praying God an the Holy Virgin to help her to
+find the courage for the sacrifice her heart called for, that if she
+were about to enter the presence of the Most High, she might take with
+her the cleansing of repentance and a self-sacrificing spirit.
+
+She lay still for some little time listening to the soft cadence of his
+voice, and then she opened her eyes and looked at him with a full,
+sweet look.
+
+"I will do it, Father," she said to him.  "Perhaps, if God understands
+everything, He will let my anguish of renunciation absolve that other
+from all sin.  It is the most I have to ask of all the powers in heaven
+and earth."
+
+"The Holy Mother comfort you, my child," he said; and with an earnest
+benediction left her.
+
+Then Lorraine motioned to the French nurse that she wanted her, and
+gathering all her remaining strength asked for a telegraph form and
+pencil.  The nurse supported her in her arms, while with a trembling
+hand she traced faintly the words of her message.  It ran:
+
+"Marked change for the better.  No need for haste.  Come in a few days.
+- Lorraine."
+
+It was addressed to Alymer Hermon, at The Middle Temple.
+
+"Please take it now at once," she said.  She knew that the Frenchwoman
+could not read English, and that Jean was not yet awake.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV
+
+
+In Alymer's room at the Middle Temple he and Hal were making their
+arrangements to catch the next boat.
+
+The moment he had spoken his decision she had turned to him with a
+swift expression of approval, but, for the rest, her manner was
+somewhat curt and business-like, and showed little of the old
+friendliness.
+
+It made him feel that, as far as she was concerned, he had sinned past
+forgiveness; and he knew with that unerring instinct that sometimes
+illumines a wrong action, that she judged him harshly because she knew
+he had not loved Lorraine with all his strength.  How then could he
+ever hope to tell her that one reason he had not loved Lorraine thus
+was because, unconsciously, another woman had won his heart; further,
+that that other woman was herself?
+
+No; of course the day would never dawn when he would dare to tell her
+that.  An eternity separated them.
+
+But he tried not to think of it now; to remember only that Lorraine,
+his best friend and his benefactress, was dying, and that she had sent
+Hal to fetch him to her side.
+
+His face was very grave, and he looked white and ill as Hal explained
+what time he must meet her at the station, but he gave no sign of
+flinching; no triumph in the world could now weaken his resolution.
+
+"Very well, that is all arranged," said Hal, and at that moment there
+was a knock at the door.  Alymer crossed the room and opened it
+himself, and was handed a telegram.  He read it, looked for a moment as
+if he could not grasp it, then, telling the bearer there was no reply,
+closed the door, went back to Hal, and handed it to her without a word.
+
+Hal read, half aloud:
+
+"Marked change for the better.  No need for haste.  Come in a few days.
+- Lorraine."
+
+For some moments there was only silence, and then she looked at him
+with troubled, perplexed eyes, and said:
+
+"I don't quite know what to make of it."
+
+"Doesn't it mean that she has passed some crisis and will live?" he
+suggested.  "I think it must."
+
+Hal still looked doubtful; and at that moment there was another knock
+at the door.
+
+Again Alymer opened it himself.  "Lord Denton particularly wishes to
+see you," he was told.
+
+"Show him in at once," he replied, and turned to tell Hal who was
+coming.
+
+Flip Denton had come to inquire for more detailed news of Lorraine than
+he could get from her letters.  He gathered from them that  she was
+remaining away for the whole winter theatrical season, because her
+health was bad; but any suggestion on his part to run over to Brittany
+and see her was persistently negatived.  Finally he had come to Alymer.
+
+The moment he saw them he knew that something serious was wrong, and
+that it concerned Lorraine.  But when, after learning she was very ill,
+he asked Hal wat was the matter, and saw the scarlet blood flame into
+her face, he said no more.
+
+"I was with her yesterday," she told him, "and the doctor said he
+feared she would not live many days.  She wanted Alymer, and I came
+over to fetch  him."
+
+"And you are going at once?" Denton asked him, with a curious
+expression in his eyes.
+
+"I have arranged to."
+
+"Doesn't your great case come on this afternoon, or to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Denton's grave face did not change.  "I see," he said, and turned a
+little aside.
+
+Then Hal, who had the telegram in her hand, held it out to him.
+
+"This has just come."
+
+He read it, and his face cleared joyously.
+
+"Why, that is splendid news - don't you think so?"  And he regarded Hal
+with a slightly puzzled air.
+
+"I hardly know what to think," Hal said.  "Yesterday she was very ill."
+
+"Ah, but you had to leave early," reassuringly, "and she may have been
+gaining strength all the afternoon, and had a very good night.  What
+are you going to do?" looking at Alymer.
+
+Alymer looked at Hal, and waited for her decision.
+
+Hal only looked doubtful and troubled.
+
+"I think you should stay for the lawsuit," Denton said, to help her.
+"It is evident that Lorraine wished it, and she of all people would not
+have Hermon miss such a chance if possible.  I understood Hall it was
+only likely to last two or three days.  He has some clinching evidence,
+I think."
+
+"That is so," Alymer answered gravely; but he still waited to take his
+cue from Hal.
+
+"You think he should stay for it?" Hal asked Lord Denton.
+
+"I certainly think that is what Lorraine would wish him to do."
+
+"Very well."
+
+Hal commenced to pull on her gloves as if there were no more to say,
+and then Denton asked her:
+
+"Will you wait too?"
+
+"No; I am going back by the next boat."
+
+"I will come with you."
+
+She glanced at him with slight alarm, and then at Alymer.  Denton saw
+the look and seemed surprised.  Hal's eyes asked Alymer what they were
+to do.  He spoke with an effort.
+
+"I expect Miss Vivian would be glad to see so old an great a friend as
+Lord Denton."
+
+"Of course she would," he said decidedly - and to Hal:
+
+"What time do we leave Charing Cross?"
+
+. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+. .
+
+Hal spoke very little on the journey.  A nameless dread weighed on her
+spirit, and a haunting fear for Lorraine.  She was oppressed by a sense
+of deep sadness for the brilliant, succesful woman she had loved since
+her school days, who was now, after all her triumphs, alone in that
+little foreign village, caught in a maze of tangles and perplexities
+which offered no peaceful solution.
+
+She could not understand Alymer's part at all, but she was convinced
+Lorraine's absorbing devotion to him was not reciprocated in like
+manner.  If Lorraine learnt this as soon as she recovered, what did the
+future hold for her again but more vain dreams, and bitter hopes that
+could never see fulfilment?
+
+She felt a little pitifully that life was very hard and difficult, even
+when one had a fine courage and will to face it; and a leaden pall of
+sorrow seemed to fold itself round her.
+
+What of Dudley and his hopeless love?  Ethel and her inconsolable
+grief?  Sir Edwin, and his secret bitterness? the gaunt music-teacher
+and her barren, joyless life?
+
+Across her mind passed some lines, that had a strong attraction for her:
+
+"_So manny gods, so many creeds,
+so many paths that wind and wind,
+And just the art of being kind
+Is all the sad world needs._"
+
+Ah! in truth it was a sad world first of all; a sad, sad world in need
+of kindness and comfort.  One could but go on trying to be kind, trying
+to be strong.
+
+It was the only thing in a life of pitfalls and easily made mistakes,
+to just march straight forward - eyes front - and not let anything
+daunt permanently.  She felt, more profoundly than ever, it was not
+wise to turn aside, looking to right and left, questioning overmuch of
+right and wrong, probing into the actions of others.
+
+Each human being was as a soldier in a vast army, and all were there
+under the same colours, led by the same general, to bear, with what
+courage they could, the fortunes of war.  Two might be standing
+together, and one be wounded and the other untouched; many disabled,
+and many unhurt; some left on the field to die, others found and nursed
+back to life.
+
+But the soldier was not there to question.  If a comrade fell, it was
+no concern of his how he fell - his concern was to try and help him to
+safety, then go back and fight again, undismayed if his place was but a
+little insignificant one in the smoke and dust, unseen by any but a
+near neighbour perhaps as insignificant as himself.
+
+That was the true spirit of the great soldier, whether he was in the
+ranks, lost in the smoke, or whether, on a magnificent charger, he led
+gloriously for all the world to see.
+
+She remembered the change in Dudley, which had led him so quickly to
+respond to her cry, and refrain from judging.  He was seeing things in
+that light also, learning to fight his own fight as pluckily as he
+could, and only to look upon the warfare of others as one ready to help
+them if it chanced that he was able - learning in place of rules and
+precepts, "just the art of being kind."
+
+Well, together perhaps they could help Lorraine - if she came out of
+this last encounter bruised and broken.
+
+Then they arrived, and she and Lord Denton hastened down the short road
+to the little green-shuttered house.  At the sound of the latch on the
+gate the door opened quietly, and Jean, with tears streaming down her
+face, came towards them, choking back gasping sobs.
+
+Hal stood still a second, and then ran forward blindly with
+outstretched hands.
+
+"She is better, Jean - say she is better.  Oh, she must be, she must;
+she wired yesterday to say there was great improveent."
+
+Jean broke down into helpless weeping as she sobbed out:
+
+"She died this morning at six o'clock."
+
+For one moment Hal seemed too stunned to understand; then she swayed,
+and fell heavily into Denton's arms.
+
+Later when she had recovered, Jean told them of the restless,
+nerve-racking night; of the priest's visit, and of the fast-ebbing
+strength gathered together to write some message the nurse had taken to
+the post office.  After that extreme exhaustion had set in, greatly
+aggravated by the mental stress, and they could only watch her sinking
+from hour to hour.
+
+"She only roused once more," Jean said, "and that was to try and write
+a message for you.  I have it there," and she produced a little folded
+note.
+
+In faint, tremulous words Hal read:
+
+"Good-bye, darling Hal.  It is hard to be without you now, but you will
+inderstand why I sent the message.  I want to tell you it has never
+been Alymer's fault; do not blame him.  I ask it of you.  At the last
+hour I have made what reparation I could.  Don't grieve for me.  I have
+made so many mistakes, and now I am too tired to go on.  Give my dear,
+dear love to Alymer, and say good-bye to Flip and mother.  I am not
+unhappy now - only very, very tired.
+Your own
+Lorry."
+
+For the first time since she had recovered from her faint, Hal broke
+down, and Jean and Denton went quietly away, knowing it would be better
+for her afterwards, and left her sobbing her heart out over her letter.
+
+Two days later, flying the colours of a great victory, and flushed with
+the pleasure of warm congratulations poured upon him from all sides,
+Alymer Hermon stepped out upon the little station.
+
+He had never doubted the truth of the message, and he carried his head
+a little higher and his shoulders a little squarer, proud and glad to
+come to Lorraine with the news of his greatest success, and tell her of
+the proud position he had won almost solely through her.  For had she
+not first imbued him with ambition and the real desire to achieve, and
+then, at exactly the right moment, procured him the first little
+success that meant so much?
+
+The instant he knew the great case was won, he had dashed out of the
+court, scribbled her a hurried wire, and driven frantically to Charing
+Cross, meditating a special train to Dover, if he were too late.  He
+was not, though the guard was just about to give the signal for
+departure, and the boat-train bore him from the station, full of that
+glad consciousness of a great achievement, to carry the news instantly
+to her feet.
+
+On the little station in Brittany Denton was waiting for him.  And when
+Alymer saw him the light faded out of his eyes, and the smile from his
+lips.
+
+"She died before we got there," Denton told him.  "We daren't let you
+know, because she sent that message, on purpose to give you your chance
+in the case."" Then, very kindly: "Sit down, old chap.  There's no
+hurry.  Wait and rest a while here."
+
+Alymer sat down on the little wooden station bench, and buried his face
+in his hands.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV
+
+
+It would seem sometimes that Life has a way of keeping the balance
+between joy and pain, by making that which is a source of deepest
+sorrow to one the unlooked-for instrument of great joy to another.
+
+It was so with the sorrow that came down like a cloud upon Hal's
+spirit, while she was yet striving bravely not to allow herself to fret
+over Sir Edwin's perfidy.
+
+It was not until after Hermon's arrival that the announcement of
+Lorraine's death was sent to the papers.  After an anxious
+consultation, Hald and Denton had decided she would have expressly
+wished nothing to be done which might bring the news to Alymer before
+his case was over, and so, while making all preparations for the
+funeral, they refrained from any announcement in the home papers.
+Directly he arrived, the notice was dispatched.
+
+Ethel Hayward, returning from her holiday to the dreary, empty Holloway
+flat, read it in the train as she journeyed.  Instantly her mind was
+full of Hal.  She felt that in losing the one great woman friend of her
+life Hal would seem to have lost mother, sister, and friend in one.
+
+She went home to the emptiness of the flat, with her heart so full of
+aching sympathy that some of the bitterness of her own loss was
+softened.  On her sitting-room table was a beautiful array of flowers.
+She looked at them with soft eyes, believing Hal had sent them, and her
+tenderness made her long to hold the girl in her arms and try to bring
+her a little comfort.
+
+After a restless, troubled half-hour, she decided to go to her.  She
+remembered it was the evening Dudley usually spent at the Imperial
+Institute, and she thought it almost certain Hal would be alone.
+
+She dreaded going if Dudley was likely to be there, as the constraint
+between them was a misery to her, but she believed he was obliged to be
+out, remembering how he had always been engaged on Fridays during his
+engagement, and she took her courage in her hands for Hal's sake, and
+went to the Bloomsbury rooms for the first time.
+
+The maid who opened the door was just going out, and being somewhat
+hurried, did not trouble to note whether she asked for Mr. Pritchard or
+Miss Pritchard, merely standing for her to come in, and then showing
+her into the sitting-room without properly announcing her, she hastened
+away.
+
+So Ethel unexpectedly found herself face to face with Dudley, alone.
+
+He was so astonished, that for a moment he seemed unable to rise,
+merely gazing at her with incredulous eyes, as if he thought he must be
+dreaming.
+
+For the past hour he had sat with a book on his knee, without having
+read a line, for all the time his thoughts had been with her.  He knew
+she had returned that night to her empty, desolate home.  He had sent
+the flowers up himself, to try and mitigate the emptiness and lack of
+welcome.
+
+He had longed to go to the station to meet her, if only to look after
+her luggage and see her safely into a cab.  He hated to think of her
+arriving alone, and departing alone to that empty flat.  His utter
+helplessness to do anything for her, when all his soul ached to do all,
+tore at his heart, and thrust mercilessly upon him again and again his
+blindness and folly in the past.
+
+And then suddenly, in the midst of it, without any warning, she stood
+there in the room, looking at him with startled, abashed eyes.
+
+No wonder, with a sense of non-comprehension, joy leapt to his own,
+transforming the white, unhappy gravity of his face to swift,
+questioning eagerness; while at the same time he breathed tensely,
+"Ethel!... you!"
+
+It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name, and in spite
+of her confusion she could not fail to hear the ring of gladness, of
+intense, almost unbelievable joy.
+
+It sent the blood rushing to her white cheeks, and made her heart beat
+wildly.  She moved forward a little unsteadily.
+
+"I saw about Miss Vivian's death to-day, and I was afraid Hal would be
+all alone fretting...  so I came to see -"
+
+She broke off.  Something like a sudden appeal in his eyes was
+unnerving her.
+
+Dudley only heard vaguely what she said.
+
+As she came forward he had seen that she was rather overcome; he had
+seen the quick scarlet  in her face, followed by a striking parlor, and
+the bewildered surprise in her eyes.
+
+What was it Hal had said that evening before she left?  He could not
+remember, but he knew it meant that she did not think Ethel indifferent
+to him as he believed.
+
+He knew she had meant more, but he had not dared to dwell upon it.
+
+He stood up, but did not move towards her.  Instead, he just stood
+looking, looking into her eyes.  Hers fell, and again the quick colour
+came and went.
+
+"Hal is not here," he said simply; "she went to Miss Vivian last week."
+
+"Oh, I am glad.  I was afraid she had not had time.  I thought, when I
+saw the flowers..."  An idea seemed to strike her suddenly.  She looked
+at him, and her eyes were full of a question she could not ask.  "I
+thought only Hal knew I should be returning to-day."
+
+"I knew," he said simply.
+
+"Did you... did you..." she was at a loss to finish.
+
+This hesitating nervousness was new to him.  He had never seen her
+before other than calmly self-possessed.  It called, with
+swift-calling, to his natural masculine strength and masculine
+protectiveness.  It enabled him to grow sure of himself, and strong.
+
+"Yes, I sent the flowers," he answered.  "I wanted badly to come to the
+station to meet you, but I was afraid you might think it an
+impertinence."  He came a little nearer.  "Sould you have thought so?"
+
+He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and she said shyly:
+
+"I should have thought it very kind of you."
+
+"I am always wanting to do things for you," he said, "and I am always
+afraid I shall only vex you.  And I wouldn't vex you for the world," in
+a low, fervent voice.
+
+Again she gave him a swift, shy, questioning glance, and he grew bolder
+still.
+
+He came closer, and stood beside her.
+
+"Most of all, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart and
+soul and strength, and, until this moment, I have been afraid that that
+would vex you too."
+
+She raised her eyes then, swimming in sudden tears of gladness.
+
+"But it doesn't?... " he said eagerly, "you... you... Oh, Ethel! is it
+possible you would like me to say it?"
+
+"It has been possible a long time, Dudley, but I did not think it would
+ever be said."
+
+He took her hands in his and kissed first one and then the other.  For
+the moment he was too overwhelmed at the suddenness of his joy to
+understand it.
+
+"I thought you despised me," he breathed.  "It did not seem possible
+you could do anything else; but Hal said I was wrong."
+
+She smiled faintly.
+
+"Yes; Hal knew," she told him.  "I think she has known some time."
+Then she seemed to sway a little.
+
+"You are tired out," he exclaimed in quick commiseration.  "What a
+brute I am, letting you stand all this time, after your long journey
+too!  I have told myself over and over how I would take care of you if
+I might, and this is how I begin!  Forgive me -."
+
+He gently pushed her towards his own big chair, and when she had sunk
+down in it, fetched a cushion and a footstool.  She leaned back
+wearily, looking up at him with eyes that were full of deep joy, if not
+yet emancipated from their long, long vigil of sorrow.
+
+"Is this all true, or am I dreaming?  Yesterday - an hour ago - I
+thought it could never happen at all."
+
+"I too."
+
+He was kneeling on one knee beside her now, holding her hand against
+his face for the comfort of it.
+
+"I was thinking of you when you came.  I am always thinking of you.  My
+whole life is like a long thought of you.  I was afraid it would never
+become any more.  Since I grew to know myself better, it has never
+seemed possible any one like you could care for such as I."
+
+She gave him her other hand confidingly.
+
+"I think I have always cared, Dudley.  Beside Basil, there has never
+been any one else who counted very much at all."
+
+It was good to be sitting there together by a fireside.  So good indeed
+that it swept everything away that had stood between them, with swift,
+generous sweeping.  There had been nothing real in the barrier,
+scarcely anything that needed explaining, only the foolish imaginings
+of two hearts that had become imbued with wrong impressions.
+
+"I thought I loved Doris," he told her, still caressing her hand; "but
+afterwards it was like a pale fancy to my love for you."
+
+"I was terrified lest she should wreck both your lives," She answered.
+"She cared so much for money, and the things money can buy.  Without
+it, she might have grown bitter and hard and reckless.  With it, she
+wil grow kinder, I think.  She felt Basil's death very much.  She shed
+the most genuine tears she has ever shed in her life.  Dudley,  if
+Basil had known that this was coming, it would have been a great
+comfort to him."
+
+"He did know."
+
+"He knew!..." in surprise.  "How could he?"
+
+"I told him.  I saw he was fretting very much about you, and I guessed
+what was in his mind.  I told him I loved you better than my life; and
+he said: "Thank God, it will all come right some day."
+
+"Ah, I am glad that he knew.  Dear Basil, dear Basil.  If he had been
+less splendid, Dudley, I think I should have taken my own life when he
+died and left me alone.  But in the face of courage like his, one could
+not be a coward."
+
+Later Dudley took her home.  At the door he asked her pleadingly:
+
+"May I came in for a moment?  I want to see the flat as it looks now."
+
+She led the way, and they stood together in the little sitting-room
+where Basil had lived and died, and where Dudley's flowers now shed a
+fragrance of welcome.
+
+She buried her face in the delicate petals, with memories, and
+thoughts, and feelings too deep for words.
+
+"It feels almost as if his spirit were here with us now," he said
+softly.  "He was so sure he was only going to a grander and wider life.
+ I think he must have been right; and that to-night he _knows_."
+
+Tears were in her eyes again.  The loss was so recent still - the
+memory so painful.  He drew her to him, and kissed them away.
+
+"That night, Ethel, that first, terrible night when you were alone, it
+nearly killed me to have to go away and leave you, to feel I could not
+do anything at all.  You must let me comfort you doubly now to make up
+for it.  You must come to me quickly."  She smiled softly, and he
+added: "It would have been Basil's wish, too.  He hated the office as
+much as I do.  Tell them to-morrow that you're not coming any more."
+
+Her smile deepened at his boyishness.
+
+"There are certain hard-and-fast rules to be observed about leaving.
+I'm afraid they won't waive them for you."
+
+"Well, tell them you are going to be married...  You _are_ going to be
+married, aren't you?..." for a moment he was almost like Hal.  "Well,
+why don't you answer?  I want to know."
+
+"I haven't made up my mind sufficiently yet," with a low, happy laugh.
+
+"Then I must make it up for you."
+
+His manner changed again to one of wondering, absorbing tenderness.
+Hal had been right, as usual.  Under the man's surface-narrowness and
+superiority was a deep, true heart that had only been waiting the hour
+of its great emancipation.  He took her in his arms and kissed her
+again and again.
+
+"Child," he breathed, "haven't I waited long enough?  Every hour of the
+last few months, since I knew, has been like a year.  Don't make me
+leave you here alone one moment longer than is necessary."
+
+. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
+. .
+
+So it happened that when Hal came back to a dreary, empty, joyless
+London, an unexpected gladness was waiting for her.
+
+The last few days had almost broken her spirit.  The pathos of that
+lonely, far-off grave, in the little alien churchyard, where they
+tenderly left the remains of the beautiful, brilliant woman who had
+been so much in her life for so long, seemed more than she could bear.
+
+They three had stood together, representing her richness in friendship,
+her poverty in blood ties.  The wire to her mother had only brought the
+reply from some one in London that she was travelling in the South of
+Italy, and could not possibly arrive in time.
+
+Alymer still seemed almost stunned.  He had scarcely spoken since
+Danton told him what had happened.  At first Hal had declined to see
+him at all, but in the end Denton, with his shrewd common sense, had
+talked her into a kindlier mood.
+
+When they came back from the churchyard she had gone to him in the
+little sitting-room, where he sat alone, with bowed head.  He stood up
+when she came in, but he did not speak.  He waited for her to say what
+she would, with a look of quiet misery in his eyes that touched her
+heart.
+
+For the first time she saw how changed he was.  There seemed nothing of
+the old boyishness left.  Only a quiet, grave, deeply suffering man.
+
+She had no conception that she, personally, added every hour and every
+moment to that suffering.  She did not know he was enduring a bitter
+sense of having lost her for ever, as well as the friend and
+benefactress he had undoubtedly loved very dearly, if not with the same
+passionate love that she had known for him.
+
+But he only stood before her there, very straight and very still, and
+with that old, quiet, ineradicable dignity which never failed him.
+
+"Lorraine left a little written message for me," she said to him.
+
+She paused a moment, and her eyes wandered away out to the little
+garden, with its last fading summer beauty  yielding already to autumn.
+ And so she did not see the expression in his fine face when he
+ventured to look at her.  She did not know that because of his hopeless
+love, and withal his quiet courage and quiet pain, at that moment he
+looked even more splendidly a man than perhaps he had ever done before.
+
+Had life been kinder, he would have crossed the space between them in
+one step, and folded her in such an embrace as would have lost her slim
+form entirely in his enfolding bigness.  He would have given her a
+love, and a lover, such as falls to the lot of but few women.
+
+And she stood there, with her head half turned away; with sad eyes and
+drooping lips that went to his heart; her mind full of her dead friend,
+and scarcely a glance for him.
+
+"She said I was not to blame you for anything, and she told me to give
+you her dear, dear love."
+
+He winced visibly, but stood his ground.
+
+"Thank you," he said, in a very low voice.
+
+Then, with a sudden, longing triumphing over all:
+
+"I prefer to take the blame upon myself, but even then I hope some day
+you will find it possible to forgive me."
+
+"I shall never forget how much Lorraine loved you," was all the poor
+hope she gave him.
+
+"Will that make it possible for us to remain friends?"
+
+"Yes; I hope so."  She gave him her hand with an old-fashioned
+solemnity.  "For Lorraine's sake," she said very simply, and then left
+him.
+
+He turned with a stifled groan, and, leaning his elbows on the
+mantelpiece, buried his face in his hands.
+
+Yet in that painful hour, out of all the tragic mistakes of her life,
+Lorraine might have gleaned this gladness.  In that hour he was nearer
+than he had ever been before to the man she had striven to make him;
+for, mercifully for all mankind, there is a "power outside ourselves,"
+which out of wrong, and weakness, and pain can bring forth good.
+
+The sad trio returned to London the following day, and Hal wondered
+forlornly if Dudley would leave his office early to come and meet her.
+
+When she stepped out on the platform he and Ethel were standing
+together, looking for her.  Then they saw her, and Ethel came forward
+first, holding out both hands, with a subdued light in her face, that
+made Hal pause and wonder.
+
+"How did you know?  It was nice of you to come," she said, with another
+question in her eyes.
+
+"Dudley told me, dear.  I have been thinking of you so much."
+
+Then Dudley stepped up to them, and in his face, too, was this subdued
+gladness.
+
+Hal looked from one to the other.
+
+"Have you?..." she began, and paused uncertainly.
+
+"Yes, dear"; and Ethel blushed charmingly.  "I am going to be your
+sister, so I thought you would let me begin at once, and come to meet
+you, and try to comfort you a little."
+
+"Oh," said Hal, drawing a deep breath; "and I thought I was never going
+to be glad about anything again."
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI
+
+
+It is necessary to take but a cursory glance at the events that
+followed.  Life flowed smoothly enough in its way, but it flowed
+towards higher and greater achievements for some, and that can only
+mean a story of obstacles, and drawbacks and difficulties sturdily
+overcome.
+
+For the three inmates of the Cromwell Road flat it held many prizes.
+
+Alymer Hermon's career continued to advance by leaps and bounds.  The
+"taking up" by Sir Philip Hall became quickly an actual fact, and he
+was soon easily first among the juniors.  What he lacked in years and
+experience his striking presence and personal charm supplied, and his
+calm gravity and self-possession went far to counteract his youthful
+appearance.
+
+Dick Bruce finished his great novel, and though it was not quite the
+jumble about vegetables and babies he had prophesied, it was considered
+the most original book of the year, and brought him instantaneous
+recognition and fame.
+
+Quin inherited some money, and built a wonderful East End Club House
+that is all his own, and is as the apple of his eye.
+
+If the great solution of life is to find one's true environment, he has
+at any rate found his; and in finding it knows a happiness, even amid
+the squalid poverty of Shoreditch, such as is found by few.
+
+In the meantime Hal continued to work and be independent.  When Ethel
+and Dudley married, they tried hard to persuade her to live with them,
+but she had already bespoken a smaller sitting-room with her old
+landlady, Mrs. Carr, and made up her mind to live there.
+
+Later, when Dudley began to add to his income, they begged her to give
+up her work, but she was obdurate, again expressing certain views on
+the boon of steady occupation they could not gainsay.
+
+"It is so boring sometimes," Ethel remonstrated, and she answered:
+
+"Not so boring as idleness in the long run, and having to make up your
+mind each day what you are going to do next.  The girls who only enjoy
+themselves without work little know what they miss in never waking up
+in the morning to say, 'Hurray! this is a holiday.'  No! give me my
+work and my play well balanced, and I'll turn them into happiness."
+
+It was months before Alymer dared to speak to her of love.  It had
+taken him long to win her to the old fooling again; and in a sudden
+gladness at some little remark or touch that seemed to show him he was
+truly forgiven for his own sake, he told her the story of his love, and
+his long waiting.
+
+Hal was very taken aback, and a little unhappy, but when she had
+convinced him it was really quite hopeless, he forced himself back to
+the old comradeship, and took up his self-imposed burden of waiting
+once more.
+
+Then followed a period of rapid successes, during which Hal told him
+seriously he must now make a choice among the bevy of beauty, wealth,
+and lineage at his disposal.
+
+"You really ought, you know," she said, "out of consideration for all
+the poor things left hoping against hope, and the numbers that are
+yearly added to them!"
+
+"I have made my choice," he answered; "it is not my fault about the
+vain hopes.  It is the obstinacy of one woman, who is keeping the
+others in the unfortunate condition you describe."
+
+But she only smiled lightly, and put him off again, concluding with:
+
+"I should be frightened out of my life at possessing anything so
+beauteous and attractive in the way of a husband."
+
+So Hermon worked on, and waited, believing in his star.
+
+Yet there were times when the apparent hopelessness of it weighed
+heavily on his mind - times when the very lustre of his success seemed
+only to mock him, because of that one thing he craved in vain.
+
+It was so when the greatest achievement of his life came to his hands.
+
+It was given him to plead for a woman's life against a charge of
+poisoning her husband, pitting his youth and slender experience against
+the greatest advocate of the Crown.  The case caused a great stir, and
+with a growing wonderment and pride she hardly dared to account for.
+Hal followed the newspaper reports day by day.
+
+The evening before the speech for the defence he came to her.  She
+greeted him as usual, saying little about his present notoriety, but
+she noticed that he looked careworn, as if the strain were becoming too
+much for him; and then suddenly he stated his errand.
+
+"I want you to come to the court to-morrow, Hal.  I - I - have a
+feeling I want you to be there when I am speaking.  Will you come?"
+
+She looked up doubtfully.
+
+"Why do you want me?"
+
+"I hardly know.  I mean to save this woman if I can.  She did not give
+the poison.  I am quite certain of it; but we can't prove it
+absolutely.  We can only appeal in such a way to the jury that they
+will feel the case is not merely not proven against her, but that she
+is innocent.  I think it would inspire me more than anything if you
+were there."  He paused, then added: "I love you so much, Hal, I feel
+as if I shall save her life if you are there."
+
+Hal looked touched, and agreed to go if he would arrange everything,
+and telephone to her what time to arrive.
+
+The next day she went to the court with the card he had given, and
+found herself received with the utmost deference, and ushered at once
+to a seat reserved for her.
+
+A few minutes afterwards Alymer stood up to make his great speech, and
+then Hal heard a subdued murmur around her, and saw that the judge was
+watching him with some interest and expectancy.
+
+It was the first time she had seen him in his wig and gown, in court,
+and her heart began to beat strangely.  She felt suddenly and
+unaccountably incensed with the women all round, who whispered and
+gazed.  "What was he to them anyway!  How idiotic of them to murmur to
+each other how splendid he looked!  What did he care for their
+approval?"
+
+Her heart carried her a little farther.  "What is he to you?..." it
+asked.  She felt a sudden warm glow of pride, and her eyes grew very
+soft as she watched him.
+
+Then he began to speak, and it seemed as if everything in heaven and
+earth has paused to listen.  Surely there was no big thoroughfare with
+hurrying multitudes just outside, no continual stream of noisy,
+hurrying traffic; no busy newspaper offices awaiting each flying
+message - nothing anywhere but that crowded hall, that white-faced
+accused woman waiting for death or freedom, that man in his beauty of
+manhood and power straining every nerve to save her.
+
+An hour passed.  No one spoke, no one moved.  Sometimes a sob, hastily
+stifled, broke the oppresive hush, sometimes a stifled cough.
+
+Alymer rarely raised his voice, for his was no impassioned, heated
+declaration.  It was a magnificent piece of quiet oratory, which
+carried every one along by its earnestness and convincing calm, and was
+intensified by the look upon his noble, resolute face.
+
+After a time every one knew instinctively that he had won.  The tension
+grew less taut and more emotinal.  Women began to weep softly and
+restrainedly.  Men cleared their throats again and again.  Some one
+sitting next to Hal apparently knew him, and knew her.
+
+"My God," he breathed in her ear, "he's magnificent.  He's saved her.
+I wouldn't have missed this for anything.  I'm proud to be his friend."
+
+Hal's eyes suddenly filled with tears.  She began to feel dazed and
+faint.  It had been too much for her, and the relief was overwhelming.
+
+She thought of Lorraine, and her heart swelled to think he had so
+gloriously fulfilled her vast hopes, and crowned all she had done for
+him.  She longed that she might have been there, and then felt
+mysteriously that she not only was there, but was speaking to her.  In
+a vague, unreal, mystical way, Lorraine was pleading with her to give
+him his happiness.
+
+She looked again, confusedly, at the big, strong, calm man; and
+something that had been growing in her heart for months took shape and
+form.
+
+What did the other women matter?  He was hers - hers - hers.  Why stop
+to question or demur?  What did anything matter but that he had loved
+her so long and faithfully; and that at last she loved him?
+
+In a stress of unendurable emotion, she got up unsteadily, and left the
+court.
+
+A quarter of an hour later, Alymer finished his speech, and sat down
+instantly turning his head to look for her.  Instead of the familiar,
+eager face of the first hour, he saw the empty space, and his
+overwrought mind sank to a dull level of bitter disappointment.
+
+She was not impressed, then - not even interested enough to stay until
+the end.  Oh, what did it matter?  She was hard - hard, he was a fool
+to love her so.
+
+The jury went away and came back with their verdict of "Not guilty."
+
+There was a rush and buzz of congratulations.  He smiled, because he
+had to smile, and grasped outstretched hands because he had to grasp
+them.  The moment it was possible to get away, he walked blindly and
+hurriedly to the entrance, and got into a taxi, before the waiting
+crowd had had time to recognise him.
+
+"Where to?" a policeman asked him, and for a moment he was at a loss to
+know.  Then he gave Hal's address.  "Better have it out and done with,"
+was his thought.  Once for all he would make her tell him if it was
+hopeless, and if she said yes, he would go away and try to forget her
+in another country.
+
+When he was shown into Hal's little sitting-room, he found her
+crouching on a footstool in the firelight, before the fire.  He stood a
+moment or two and looked at her, and then he said in a slightly harsh
+voice:
+
+"I suppose you hurried away because you were bored.  I thought you
+would have stayed until the end.  I was a fool.  Nothing I do ever has
+interested you, or ever will."
+
+Hal did not look round.  She was staring into the flames, with her chin
+resting in her hands.  When he paused she said calmly:
+
+"I can't hear what you say so far away."
+
+He moved across the room and stood on the hearth beside her, towering
+above her, with his eyes on the opposite wall.
+
+"I don't know why I came here at all," he continued; "but it didn't
+seem any use going anywhere else.  Why did you run away in the middle!
+Did you want to punish my presumption for wishing to try and
+distinguish myself before you, as well as save a woman's life and
+honour?"
+
+A little smile shone in Hal's eyes, where the firelight caught them.
+
+"I can't hear what you say, right up there, near the ceiling."
+
+He looked down at the dark shapely head, and something in her poise and
+in her voice made his heart suddenly begin to thump rather wildly.
+
+"I haven't got a beanstalk," she added.
+
+He leaned a little towards her.
+
+"And if you had?" he asked tensely.
+
+"If I had, I would perhaps climb up it."
+
+He leaned lower still, his heart thumping yet more wildly.
+
+"If you climbed up a ladder like that, you would be bound to climb into
+my arms."
+
+"Well - and what if I did?" she said.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
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