Newspaper Page Text
A Fascinating Novel of Modern Married Life
(Continued from preceding page.) \
\
-same tinie she felt that in all his naive hunger and eager
ness there was*only a sort of great reverence and appre
ciation. ;
W * * * * » -
Three weeks later, sitting alone in the drawing-room of
"_what__was now his flat in Bury street, St. James’s, Pat
Mallow wrote this letter to his mother in America :
“Darling Little Mother: '
“Forgive my not having written to you tlie last three
weeks. I've tried several times to sit down and concentrate,
~ but it has been absolutely impossible: Imagine a man hang
ing on to a Jropé round the neck of a forest pony that was
raving mad apd being pulled all over the place. T've been
that man, and you won’t believe it, but my pal Jack has been
the forest pony. Mad? As.mad as a March hare. Madder
than any hatter, as,mad as a man—a man mind you—in love
for the first time, no, not in love. That means very little,
One can be in love with a piano or a pfcture or a face. In
/| fact, one is generally in love with a face. But a man who
- loves onqe and ‘forever, who has given a whole heart, and a
clean heart, and a saved-up heart, all over entirely to a
' woman, the very first sight of whom was enough.
“You'll go back and read this again, I know. You won't
believe that I'm talking about Jack—old Jack. I ean’t believe
it, even I, although I've only just got back from Eardley
Wishes, where he was married to-day in the village church. I
was best man, You know what Kipling says. ‘Friend that
sticketh closer than a brother—eight years—dashed bit of a
ulip of a girl—eight weeks—and where's your friend?" Only
ft hasn't been eight years. It's been twelve. And it hasn't
been eight weeks. It's been three. And where’'s my friend?
Dear old Jack, martied and done for. Of course I don’t ‘mean
done for really, because the girl he’s married is quite the
most beautiful thing I've seen anywhere. I'm alene to-night
for the first time and I suppose I'm a little pessimistic.
“Jack’s gone. He's out of my life. He's got a wife, and .
presently, of course, he'll have children and where’s his friend
*—what? You think I'm Irish and sentimental. Why not? I
,am. Well, I wish him luck and Godspeed, and everything
that's good. He deserves them all.
“As for me, Mavourneen, well, I shall lie in bed for a
couple of days and sleep and make new plans and simmer
down. I deserve it. I wrote to you from Sandwich, didn’t 1?
Just a bit,6f a note. And then I told you that Jack had met
Violet Melksham and that she had swept him off his feet like
a o e <o A B
& tornado. A few
days later he kissed
her. He didn't prov
pose to her. He
kissed her.
“The day after that
—he hates growing
grass—we left Lon
don and went to
Speakwell, he and 1,
Mrs. Percy Sturgess
and Violet. Mrs, S.
is Violet’s pal. These
two hired a furnished
cottage between tha
Scorrier Arms by Wil
liam . Peak, a friend
of mine, and the post
office, mainly run by
a girl called Lottie,
also a friend of mine.
The next day was
Sunday and the
banns were called.
Quick work, but
that's Jack—the new
Jack, anyway. And,
by ‘gum, he is a new
Jack! -~ When I tell
you that every day
during these three
weeks T played him
at golf and beat, you
know how mew he
was. When he was
not thinking about
Violet he was talking
about her, and dur
ing the rest of the day
he was with her. ~
“What would you
do, little mother, if I
brought a girl home
suddenly, without a
word of warning, and
said, ‘mother, my fu
ture wife?” You'd do
what Lady Emily did,
for a thousand dol
flars. You'd be aw-
fully nicé and kind and sweet and make her very welcome.
But out of the corner of your eye you'd watch her like a
lynx. Oh, yes, you would! You know you would. And I
should discover you sitting in quiet places quietly, toting
up all the things you could against her, as Lady Emily did,
and as all mothers do, bless them. How you hate the
women who marry your soms, don’t you? And why should
n't you? They're your sons. And the Guvnor? What would
he do? Why, what old Scorrier did, of course—fall in
love with the girl and put soap on his moustache. Why
shouldn’t he?
“Those were quaint days at Speakwells which led up to
the outburst of village bells and were filled with the clatter
of tongues of all the village. It filled me with great joy to
see the quiet way in which Violet managed Lady BEmily. .By
Jove, .she’s clever. Before she went up the aisle of the little
old Norman church on old Scorrier's arm she had won the
mother as well as the father and the son and me and the
sexton and the parson and, believe it or not, the parson’s
wife. In fact, she was the star turn of the place, and mind
you, it was noeasy thing for her to win me and the mother.
We were going to lose Jack. It meant a good deal to us both.
“Jt's an odd thing, but you always lose a man when he's
married. It's the right thing, because a happily married man
—well, he’s happlly married! And according to the rules a
threesome has no standing on a married links. Twosomes
play through.
“go here I am back again in London, alone except for
the rice that's down my neck. I came up in the same train
as Jack and Violet, but not in the same carriage. One of
these days, maybe, I shall be married. 1 thought of that.
However, 1 saw them off from Victoria Station to a lovely
place by the sea. And having consulted the daily paper and
found that the Ocednic leaves Southampton in a fortnight's
time, I shall book a passage on her and join you. Who was
the master philosopher who said that a man’s best friend is
his mother? I need you, Mavourneen, because Jack's done
me a most unfriendly turm. He's been and gone and got
married, and I wish him luck and Godspeed and all good
things.
“By the way—no, I'll tell you that when 1 see you . .”
“Well, how do you like it, Jack?”’
Jack picked up one of Violet’s beautiful hands with
its long pointed fingers and kissed its palm. ‘‘Nothing
matters except you,”” he said.
Violet laughed. “‘I know, but just do take one look
at the cottage. For Evelyn’s sake I want you to show a
little appreciation. It was awfully good of her to lend it
to us.”’
" And so. in order to oblige his wife—his wife, the-word
thrilled him—Jack looked about hinr. The house in which
Y o ¢
& _ B &‘ Ak 3 | o A
| : ; ‘»w iey A $ R o e 3 & esy
R BN -~ NNS
o), I e \ : iPWSRG.. Be, N
/\}'”; %SA B {g“ L et iooTR e O Aoy ST ei SR
:.!-i Uv,.vf o ¢ R & X 3WiT e 3 #\‘ :?:.v;\,_;@g:‘-;‘ N. . a s
L L “'~=-4"";;s::=s\\-' Bi\; e 5 S Fase R ;:1\:35;» o ;52335‘1:;‘;;:,: LT {é >S N “‘7;2‘ XA i S™’ ok
eI o 1%&% o, -o3 g ) _S e iigeNS RY e "u 5 m
( N ~“M>>%‘ ¥PP e ® TSR ) |S RO ‘B-"& SRR e Qfii’:fi: 18 eE%3 ‘
<H . = |ps.&. >e A S eSRRRANSg3 3SRvt B
fim\ e Buodßnrsnoooons b " 31-&_”.4;%' e sR 2 AN RL 3 “i’,fi.’f’?{’g’v R RGN eT: . T ffi\b E 1
i) eYA 0e.5 ORy v"-'%@:-):,‘<i:}?&.:~.4 ~--:;:-a$;;_\;;Ag:z;-,;r.::t‘::;.;»gc,&:;,§:-.<§;;;;:- B
< = Y o i Lot Py R e SRR RN % o SRR
oiy b LRy og R N SRR, ¥he )\ A ORI y::gu--.-.-\.,»‘-‘S.n;,;é-.'...yu. b 3PR o 5
ey Q‘W”‘*":.@mfi eR et Lty ~;;.-::;-;::;;::;-;;,;;_.;;:,3%& Wl it W\ R fmi ey S - bR oy
‘o e »v;f&\,fig’.:«&\" TR sty sg e eRe ST ;"*:fi.‘_g.,.‘;_ et 4 “"’l‘sl:‘-35351()155_,'?;;5‘3‘1 "\ SR A R
(s g )NN SR o Re R &N A S e e A N
SRS ;g“yg‘%"‘:'@& RT e o SGR£ St b SRER Tormes - \ e p
PRI e R ~§!"~§-"§‘ so 3 ‘%::z R yc“ L L B RERE R Vit sTI B SRS -Si | B P 2% 3
,:_Y:_A,::,:f 2“ j .'/::E‘,”":1:5(555?::5:3}::?:"""':'"{:!\*;" K. AN RS Ps TR q&“‘ Ry eP S e 3 _\\’ < Ro 3
Gl SRR eAR R F Rty : ofa Ro e v;%%g, 3;|%iy beo AN 3
P o S G og R eO Y R L RV
i L PSlslA BT o 4 SRORR G % RR e SRR Ah R %
M‘ g\?w WA Il Lo GA e h SRR RN §’*’{‘§\ & :‘%* \ 3 D
WRO SRR v RN SRR eP P RR 7 4 ok iwA\ Rl\ .:. % .
: :£V(<wy<,;"°, %vf»’?“-'wwmf)’»v»w\ ot 45 <.~\ ;;i:;;;?‘,;;i.»';;j;4.;j_»:;-,:55;::1;;§§533:; & 3'§ i 3 hod 3Sy %5::;;;%“:;' KX % R \‘,3, N & i“*
l_:_v;3;ZEi_‘j,_.::;:;;;:;:,-,.w}»._vfl;:::.s;;.s&;\'::':i&-?!fi{-’?li-é:;;»;r-s;;;;;:;,\;;:;:-:g%;ge;::;_~v;;z:L:. Eesu s e W,__”_;fl:&;, .»:'-";.;;z;,:;:r},a‘-‘;gsl;,;;:',,., s SRR L S e ’g»g SO Yb S HONER
L ‘:*g‘““‘%\iwh ng A;:‘-\ig;:‘_ii-j:‘;’-:ji?é}iii*:{{.}:l,‘__;E;>~. 2 "'a,}’fv» el ;‘% RN g.é BTYot bG SR eg Ry
R SS R :_.'_A;.A?.'E:E.:;'_.:.:,-;;:gzgi':». AR "A;-f-,‘-'2'2-'-'iE;;;;:;:;-;E.j;‘:f;;;5_"51';::,\‘ 3R eRf PT N SRSSRECE : % ) RsBoAR -Y O S RS, R & b eENT
§ :é“ o «efl\h‘\?"“\@‘\&wwv’« 5 é‘;fi!g‘s \.,;,..»v;‘j“f'.:, ePN e e e X : A A "’%; TR '..-=z= R § &Ay
4e . ::::sfl;::_ffiéw" 4,,“:.‘ e »\.-.ou (r O SRR ey Sl PB% RS S 5 RPBR<3ST PR RS o 3
Nf::zv'};::é;_:,:‘..:::(.;;.};;_;;-fi_\-gss,-‘Z‘-,:'g;ei»:i%\*fi:"?’:"&'fi" X Gl (O wggx gSR § ’ Rgg ; ;f;.v SRR iy %{‘ \)\%fi 5 :'% PR NN N 8 % g
I e Z»::t:;vg;;;.5:::;.'*5??-.2.:li:.;;:-::;;:,\:5.._:{;:,;_V,;,';_:_._»;:,:- SRR TS RS RN SRR WPR o 5 SRR oRB2 b3B T PEDE < g
Mm‘{fi.t:@&;_g;;:;:;._:_: e s FRETIIRRRT LS e-» R e \Ge 2R ‘“‘% >kiß Re o
=iee Sa oo iST R ARER A &-s& B e " RRRNST Pl gLR
SR TIRSR SR RR, PR £ P R P% S SRR o, P S
i.’?}'»'v;\jéd:b%_wfi» eSRetSR ey R e ARG Y e B o |v' : : SYv‘) §{ A
SR o A SRR SR T RSty RAR o r ¢| .‘ “ PN |j 2
”:.‘i:..w:-iue‘:“y{‘Az‘::“"fi *‘3*\» wm,fi\\fiwv o L may Pg “/ CORER VRS B s3%®o PR X e B.S ?‘
o ‘;;;A_:\.;r:«»'~‘§‘"‘.¢"‘-~ R N ..?\.4;..,»;:;:::. SR SfAR SO T R SR 3 .PRaR B b 3 eelPt g
e - e ‘;;::;;W&::?:::E_:E;:%;E:;&_w g <<.s\4*°' e S SR AeReG SP <l
e e vinera L eneesy ~;;:z:iisi:zv:-\-v::-5:«'"*-'55'.‘5" et oeYiby 2% N
‘- e - \waa Comales gdy No‘- ; B SRR TTR T L S
a‘;»\@gs fiw‘ e 'f'iéj@j';j-;‘fi;;_f%-*' N SRR Qfie‘;«g:;:;;:;gg;fi;ga;:;;;;‘:»:__;._-.‘_ 8 i SpoT R T eRPRaO ge (g
&aLt S «'x;-:;‘;:;;;-:':':é:?=‘=:-:=>'l"*"""t‘ffi':’:': io T | ; " S ;g?‘ k!
AR g ~»MM e R taandiogy eAP \“, SRR YR AR oy TTEa SR RRS PS g P
. . o e .f.'«.p:»)%qf.’-i::’::::, BE AR T \:\,«.P:-3,;_:1.':;:,;4:;;;;_:;:::_:-,;.-- 3SF RS - ¥ ARG %lo¢A TB e g o
éG G R B e R ;’2,‘&,\' <~>‘°“\ D i-?':i:i:'E}i-f'-- g": N -. : ; .i‘ -N 8 )\ h +::
eSR O B '«r;:._.-;;;:_:,_ SRR SRR BB caen R . BRI Rol2 IRy SRR = bPReB %? 5 S
R SR RBNT RN -;.:>,;-:-.».A_.:::;:c-_-:Av:_-.~:»:»_\.;»:-:-:»:» S SRaRC R-\. | . .- : WN | ;.
&';;9 e O "'"‘-'m'.:_.;,E':A:_:_‘:\E;'_4‘::s:‘:.::Z?"“%:?:Ef§_ »:’ SR ‘&« i 3’\.;;:'2":?}'.;\:;E;'fig:‘jzis?%::‘»fiféEs%E;:"-Eisi;f;i;;-:i;i;lzi;i;%’:ffiz?-gi:fii Te L - - S 8&) | \ .l“#;::?{
S S O '«Q*'X\n PR SR S e ,»-‘,,:g:j:z;.ji:;ir::;2:;:5:5:5:;:E:E:}:;;;?-S:E;‘&._"-'%?" £l Li..% .: ‘. ::”‘:5&:;: L 5 s \ |
iSt SRR Re DN RR B 'A‘f’f:':f;,lii‘t".‘i‘?:‘f'"'i»:é.j._é?;:?""" oA. .. A ob e ;. };gfi e N
.<‘.:.::§::f~'i:‘.i\::viif:3.:;s3:::s'3lss:;.%:,:l'.‘;'f;"_:‘{‘v"“ e“\ ;,-:ié::v'?.‘-%::;:i,_u;;f:;;-t‘:lf'f:;.-.;' et eSRe SN e ‘
.i L ) PR *Mw»«‘mfi” <\ v “v, GOk R S r&,, \ NN RRG P, R
i ee e Halng: RTR A Gl e eoog LR e o)
o ‘SFZ__:S::__\__Q_,.__f:vw_-‘t:x»; ~s{3?’:-;%@355:1513-'ss“:' e AN SR ‘»!?.‘.;»‘ ee SR '.,.,.‘_-.,,_:;us:-,_,,‘,v,::_;j Efi\B fs S EEER SVA A: s 0
o i eg R 2:555’&:_-";.,1:.;-.. iS S e ;‘_:‘“_«, e oe NN "-,33 AT TR R3kßßy Py ;55,.5:::;5;5;-‘"‘ SRER 3Bk NN e R , o &
R SR NR o R SRR si3 BRS wr & R &9&&& R S ORIy GgR D T B P
. . x Q(, /3:?,‘:‘”} ‘,,‘\ -.:_«x»«-»\%%,@mz;g;w.\‘ RS A R b isj“.“(:‘fi‘ it 2’~? <‘é? Gt e L W
.L e S R FES RN AR S R TR PRRy R % N %Vi
%EZ:};K{%&%M o e .;;g;:;,.,:.\':e\-,"-f'_’A;'if- WSRN R i )”‘»;“é, _‘,_,:-.,,4;:"‘ CETRE By & 3 GagE sy <g e 5
i Fov 'W%M*MM“ LS 3 W&Q eTR R e :5?\)‘3;,\;,3;32;3:,,_ _A"?g;»,:‘ B, o} R :v‘ G%L) Ni i
; _dmwh:;\\%\:flgi;’:&v o v’%%;m%}w% «“%’;‘%m‘ g ey ;g‘&,ig\‘, SV LA 4 5. i
Sl IR TLR i R gG v 520, » 7 i Vl
M)::v o e R e v\""'%u;;?én &0 7 ¥ T fEe ¥ ( T
- g N e ¥ B #«&”\?‘\ oSO :s*:‘;‘-\@3;4_-»,;._.;. ‘&N\ Bg3 $ 4 iri e y
SR .‘e S& G e .:,-u,::;:»:.;_:,,.,i.v Prade &k ig e & ;Y R A
vt IR R ~.\,}*\% "‘-g‘*:i:;‘-?:’.;:&‘“- e x"‘v‘.{“»vw‘:”'g"»*v? go @ .p 8T §
TR b e Rgsß AR R "“-“g;;i“:i:i:;:;:joj::n.;:.“-' e ¥ 5 o
E' N oRb R&% m%‘ i "‘:s':"s‘3 LR jok / 9 A\
-..w;@,-;z‘_;;y;qiiv§§-§E§§l§§£§f?i'§ff?‘lié::.:"E--:fifnv»' S . ,}:,f.ifi:f';:Zf’f;;s;\?}, ’V"% ‘_f‘,_‘},:{';fli egAR P 7 i % :
--«-4:;.s‘:.;;s_;;g,;;':?;i»;izizi,;‘;fi:':::'*s:lss:'::-"*" e G Loge ;_}@&w& \% % ia?‘&z war oA o 03%
ieA A S CENE T 8 RSIR &g k F.
e, w"i&\ o GRS ’o“’\fi%%?c*» RS g :"s‘} Lig 7 ; \
St Lo o O ~\\& iTR LR i % X
sy St RFo R sST A e S 3 '.&»’(:‘ & : |
SRy, ge e R e :_;.5-;:-':5.;:;-::,,..'?5.';:4!;;{'.‘:»7.1(5'}"!‘ ge ) o
eel e e g
5 % slon: il G
R A e . W
Te R e N " '
AA s g S e v
ee B Lo & !
oTe fe mustamn o R g
Tet DR REE B S
¢ £% Segene soo e B R 4 o
e .""t‘.‘:‘f-;-::}'.*;.;':..*‘s S 0400 B B 6 g o s
f o RRLTUC SERLa S T L
eOy R B A AR BTR B TR SR
pkfii"‘}:}\m o i \ijgffi* e T i S BT R s ‘-,c,:-\}\_.:-,;?:,x
S e R g P F¥ EREE HOREEY RA PR
N T e §gl o e U R R
SR e ompeaake RAR Ko oo @@l iy
¥ e R 2 g\)\/w; ;\S fi]‘&: ,'\-;.\-‘\__f ‘:\ 9 SPR st ;’::-f-_';p ‘:E.::,f':::g:‘.&,\ \a
Be - =
b e REEROE R J \Q N, s
e e SRR SRR RRN Pip Y R 3 f e o
Firs g SRR R R ge e e S nwcpn g R 3 W SRS anoan>
G Le t R % SRR X N - GBB
N . e oy ; : ERa Y ik
FR AR i R S " Y a
g & L oTR gao : SRS Y Sl g et 0
ity ¢ i ”5&5‘&‘%.&13‘5 fig%§° ; § ; Ne R S% g v
e TR g ey s
2 RO, L o ”IE:::E;?E?{.:"@!' e 58 S R ‘f\ Sl
£ R e %“S Etm:fiki-gfiffi‘f : A B SRR 2 ;‘ M.g(»-”"\ oi e g
Lo S NEm s pia o 0 S - _ M e
|7 RVe R i ::L é b §oA é,&?'
R sod e \ :».:iuf@.i;; A % ] ‘ Hp RGN
T TR W : . . 1L
e TR ey el ol ‘g’*‘* {
: g ; SR R Wy SRR R R
e . - ey 3 VAR SO W S e LRE B
SR BA b 4 S . & §‘.‘, Wk aadragniain §
B'i eR B W '."« b T PR ‘:‘;'i‘g St ~'fal 7
B e r. BN el R 8 i s s ¥,‘ N S & SRS ¢ 0L
i \\ N ee g pT O R sO o, e
WT"g Ca i SR RV SRR S SR R
BN | R eYR BiR e B A R e R A e %
RO R RS R g W e Y B
R i ?%ifl::f:e:s:i‘:::;‘ v§ B W e R Tl S SR oo R
SE NN RS Eaeh LR Y < R R R Y. s 3 . \ e
e N P R SRR B eRN RR s e
SRR a E.“’é .: ?;,‘ X o ')\ S ”*"’}( e Rgl e
Re U SR RFR e R X W By ;i"“’“ i
jf; b e s }’i‘(&”%t S yoB B f)‘e’”‘) Lt R e T g
R e Y P i RGN T Ml ~
BRO RR B T bAN SRR IR - o T SR SN e SN
~_’*§--i‘2.‘s‘fi?l‘ Foßs ‘i?»*gé‘*»é ~g(qg;v" I i ‘%' eRR »"“i‘“‘@ . S g G R T
e"f. WA X e (fig L ?\" e R$ i
Sl G B L vrßae e e TR e ORI o o el
B 8 i R g Py b’ .. T TSR T ‘_}z; ReNG W el R »
R R TN % SO R T QA e
grJSR R 2168 W S N‘Q St N/» : v‘? el
B e ; L e b R R M‘/ AR SRR N
e ' RN oot RL s ST )
P bENE €L« Pe e Coeoaag foa il eG S R
@ e R Ro) W T el O e R
oa - L 8 e *%t L T T SRR N T
L e AL L 8 YR AR A P g
‘e Gy : Sagh T N ,t/ PR "x‘f} Cro g S S |
e E $ L p 5"?’,.:* e Ng\ R 7AW et soy o
LR SN “'5?:;: : ¥ .SW e 3 B, NG ‘AT 7 SRS, B NSRS DPI A
o DRSNSy S AR
R Roe RN S i R SRS
e, R s R. T eT S
!fif%% soo voaad o GRGO T
G RL N L B e A
S i "%fi«??&&?&%w she v;i:"j"i‘i::"".:£§.s;s=3:sl?s::?::,§§"s2" Gy
S R S RRR RSN IR
k@ . s:'::3s:s:s‘:?::i‘ffi'.;":-"“ir:':E-é;.’;i"" . v
R | R e e SRR N R A
“**%‘w‘%“\fi’fi% e Vo
ey .
SR a 0 e R
ie e RR, R 2
- V*g*% &?”“ B '
SB A AN e f
thick, white posts. All the bricks were green and all
the woodwork, was white. It was mounted up above
the road on a grass covered bank. It stood in g line of
bungalows all different, ail very pretty. The line came
to an end with a rather too elaborate golf club. From
where he stood Jack could see the links undulating in
front with its great patches of gorse. The hall in which
they stood was delightfully furnished with old oak. Their
baggage, just brought in from the cab, was piled at the
foot of the stairs. ;
““Tt’s ripping,’’ said Jack. And he turned and kissed
her again. Then he held her at arm’s length and looked
at her. Her youth and her beauty filled him with a sort
of awe. She was his, for better, for worse. In very sim
ple words he told her again how much he loved her, what
she meant to him and all that he would do for her sake.
He was deeply stirred.
The servant appeared, followed by a muscular gar
dener, and together they carried the baggage upstairs.
The sun had almost set. Ardent golfers were still
playing and a bevy of girls in white frocks went by leav
ing a trail of laughter behind.
““While we unpack,’’ said Violet, ‘‘don’t you think it
would be a good idea for you to go along to the golf club
and Put our names down for a fortmight’s member
ship?”’
R To-morrow,”’ said Jack, and held her tight.
*‘No, to-night. Do! I'll change while you’re away,
and be ready for dinner.”’ -
Jack held her still tighter. ‘‘To-morrow,”” he said.
““To-morrow. I can’t spare you for a minute.’’
‘“‘But my dear boy, I must dress. Please do as T ask.
they: were to
Zpend their
oneymoon was
a bungalow, It
was charmingly
built, with a cu
rigus door and
a veranda with
Copyright, 1018, by the Star Comgpany. Great Britain Rights Reserved
\ And then we’ll go along to the hotel and have
E’ dinner there.’’
‘“The hotel?”
‘“Why not? - For one thing, there’s very
little in the house—you forget all this has been
rushed through and Evelyn’s other friends
have only just gone—and in any case, I want to dine
at the hotel. Let’s try to look like old married people.
Don’t you want me to do what I went?’”’
Jack released her. ‘‘Dearest!’’ he said. ‘‘Dearest,
anything you ask. I love you.”’
““You’ve shown me that, Jack,’’ she said, and touched
his face with her fingers. ‘‘Come out here. Look, there’s
the club.”’
‘‘Righto,’’ said Jack.
‘‘Give me half an hour.”
““Too long,”” he said. ‘‘l couldn’t stand it."”’
‘‘Please.”’
So off he went. s
Violet watched him go and before she went upstairs
several curious thoughts flashed through her mind. Into
her sense of triumph at having acquired—it was her own
word-—this man, there was a suspicion of regret. She
wished, for Jack’s sake, at any rate, that she had married
him for love and not as an investment, not as a speculator
puts every farthing that he can raise into a mine in which
he believes that there is a rich vein of gold. It would
have made things easier. :
But Violet was an optimist. She had an infinite belief
in herself and her capabilities, her gift of management.
She was very cheerful as she directed her maid in the
unpacking.
* » - ' * 84 L 3 ®
Violet had dreamed of this. She had been through it
all many times in dreams. She had sailed into a crowded
hotel dining-room dressed with the most studious sim
plicity, with no other jewelry than a string of pearls, and
passed along an avenue of wide, admiring eyes. It was
one continual dream that had come true. She was Mrs.
John Fitzroy Scorrier, the future Countess of Idredgehay,
the wife 6f the future Prime Minister, perhaps. As she
said this to herself, she scratched out perhaps.
It was with a sense of enormous pleasure, immense de
light, that she saw the eyes which had admired her, turned
with admiration to Jack. His height, his squareness, his
“It seemed to her that the
vitality and the magnet
fsm and the desire of the
man who had written the
note made it quiver in her
fingers.”
excellent, frank face, almost glorified by
his happiness—why of course they stared at.
him.@As he sat down opposite her at the
little table, and in a perfectly undshamed
and unselfconscious manner, touched her
slim hand and said, ‘‘Darling!’’ under his
breath, there was admiration in her eyes,
too. There was also calcuiation, estimation
and confidence, but there was no love. He
was her husband, dnd for that she was
gratetul, glad. But he was notdier man.
He left her cold. He did not stir her. She
told herself this again. It all fell in with
her scheme of life.
She caught her face and shoulders in
a looking-glass and Jack’s strong profile.
Aristocrats, she told herself, both. And
there was something quite gleeful in the
little smile that came into her eyes.
There was no band in the room, but,
as the night was warm and still, most of
the windows were open and there drifted
in the thin notes of a violin played with
feeling by an itinerant musician on the pa
rade. There was something a little sarcase
tic in the fact that the man was playing
“Un peu d’amour.’”” The Scorrier pearls
glistened on Violet’s white neck.
Jack touched her hands severgl times
and ‘said, ‘‘Darling! Darling!’’ often, bes
fieath his breath. He was like a boy. Vios
let had said to Mrs. Sturgess. ‘‘He loves
me wonderfully.”’ She said it again.
, And she said it again and, yet again
after dinner, when they went along the
parade together, almost in silence, listen
ing to the quiet wash of the sea, and the
song of all the stars burning in the win«
dows of the sky. His hand was clasped
round her arm. A full moon faced
them. {
When they returned to the cottage they
sat on the veranda—Jack at her feet, with
the palm of her hand against his lips. Was
he the man who had stood up in that court,
a tyro, and made all the tongues of Eng
land wag-—he, who murmured inarticulate
love like a boy, saying things that sounded
almost comic in their boyishness, things
that he imagined could have been said by
no other man since the beginning of the
world?
Violet sat forward in her chair, filled
with restlessness. To her there was noth
ing beautiful in that night and in all that
it meant. She was spoiling to get to work,
to climb, to move Jack forward on his ca
reer, her career. She ‘wanted to talk, to
“make plans_to contrive, but she knew that
Jack had no ears for any such conversa
tion. Tt did not seem to be strange to her
that she was glad of this, not loving him,
because all her future success lay in the
fact that he'loved her, that he would obey
her and that he would, above all, give upi
for her. Yes, give up. Love always giveg
up: And in her scheme her beauty would
play as great a part as his ability, and,
therefore, she must considef herself as well
as him. fapringe e Wik o, s
Presently, although not tired, she sighed and stretched
herself, and said, ‘‘Time to retire, 1 think, Jack.”
He said, ‘“Yes.”’
So she got up and gave him her hand and said, ‘' Good
night, then. We shall meet at breakfast.”’
Jack laughed, and caught her to him and kissed her.
But she held him away and said, ‘‘No, T mean this.”
And then Jack looked as if he’d been turned to stone.
“Youmean . . . what do you mean? Violet!”
And she put her hands on his shoulders. ‘‘Think
back,’’ she said. ‘‘Think back, dear. I hardly know you.
You have swept me off my feet. Give me time,’’ and she
lt}ft him standing like a man turned to stone.
L - * * - * * -
The day was breaking when Jack came back. The
’oft growing light ran all along the horizon. There was
a faint breeze in the air, a little sharp. The small town
was asleep still. Not one human being, not one, moved
anywhere, except this man who had been shut out—this
man with dust on his shoes and pain upon his face, who
had saved himself. All night he had been walking any
where, anywhere. He had watched the light in the room
that should have been his, until it went out, in an agony
of hurt bewilderment. At first he was stunned, and then
angry, and almost out of control, and then away he went,
asking the silent sea what it all meant, what he had done,
why he should deserve such punishment? For hours he
tortured himself with questions, but it was not until the
day broke quietly, silently, and a little coldly, that he
grasped at an answer, and grappled it.
“‘She doesn’t love me——yet. That’s it. I must be
patient and very tender. When she loves me—when—
and she shall love me. I’ll make her.”’
And finally he came back and stood under her win
dow, ‘exhausted, heart torn and soul weary, but with a
light burning within him that lit up both, and said again,
““When she loves me. When she loves me . . .”
And then he kissed his hand to the window and with
one heart-weary sigh turned slowly away. He straight
ened his shoulders resolutely and hurried a trifle self
consciously into the door of the cottage that he had en
tered so happily the night before. Going into the bath
room he turned on the tap very softly that Violet might
not be awaken~d v the sound of the water.
€opyright, 1013, by Little, Brown & Co. |
(To be continued next Sunday.) W
9