THE DARK TOWER

 BY PHYLLIS BOTTOME

 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. H. GARDNER SOPER

 NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1916

 Copyright, 1916, by THE CENTURY CO. 

 Published, September, 1916

 Dauntless the slughorn to my lips I set, and blew "Child Roland to the dark tower came. " --Robert Browning

 TO W. W. D. H. 

 "God forbid that I should do this thing. 

 If our time be come, let us die manfully for our brethren And let us not stain our honour. "

 _I Maccabees, ix, 10. _

[Illustration: "I shall never be dangerous for you, Miss Rivers, " hesaid gently]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"I shall never be dangerous for you, Miss Rivers, " he said gently

"You may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though, " Winn remarkedwithout turning round from the sideboard. 

In his heart there was nothing left to which he could compare her

"I don't want a chance, " whispered Claire

"You've got to live, " said Winn, bending grimly over him; "You've got tolive!"

THE DARK TOWER

PART I

CHAPTER I

Winn Staines respected God, the royal family, and his regiment; but evenhis respect for these three things was in many ways academic: herespected nothing else. 

His father, Admiral Sir Peter Staines, had never respected anything; hewent to church, however, because his wife didn't. They were that kind offamily. 

Lady Staines had had twelve children. Seven of them died as promptly astheir constitutions allowed; the five survivors, shouted at, quarreledover, and soundly thrashed, tore themselves through a violent childhoodinto a rackety youth. They were never vicious, for they never reflectedover or considered anything that they did. 

Winn got drunk occasionally, assaulted policemen frequently, and couldcarry a small pony under each arm. Charles and James, who were in thenavy, followed in the footsteps of Sir Peter; that is to say, theyexplored all possible accidents on sea or ashore, and sought for a fightas if it were a mislaid crown jewel. 

Dolores and Isabella had to content themselves with minor feats and tobe known merely as the terrors of the neighborhood, though ultimatelyDolores succeeded in making a handsome splash by running away with aprize-fighting groom. She made him an excellent wife, and though LadyStaines never mentioned her name again, it was rumored that Sir Petermet her surreptitiously at Tattersall's and took her advice upon hishorses. 

Isabella, shocked and outraged by this sisterly mischance, married, inthe face of all probability, a reluctant curate. He subsided into afamily living given to him by Sir Peter, and tried to die ofconsumption. 

Isabella took entire control of the parish, which she ruled as if itwere a quarter-deck. She did not use her father's language, but sheinherited his voice. It rang over boys' clubs and into mothers'meetings with the penetration and volume of a megaphone. 

Lady Staines heartily disliked both her daughters, and she appeared notto care very deeply for her sons, but of the three she had a decidedpreference for Winn. Winn had a wicked temper, an unshakable nerve, andhad inherited the strength of Sir Peter's muscles and the sledge-hammerweight of Lady Staines's wit. He had been expelled from his privateschool for unparalleled insolence to the head master; a repetition ofhis summing up of that gentleman's life and conduct delighted hismother, though she assisted Sir Peter in thrashing him for the result. 

It may have contributed to his mother's affection for him that Winn hadleft England at nineteen, and had reached thirty-five with only twosmall intervals at home. 

His first leave had kept them all busy with what the Staines considereda wholly unprovoked lawsuit; a man whom Winn had most unfortunately feltit his duty to fling from a bus into the street, having the weak-mindeddebility to break his leg had the further audacity to claim enormousdamages. The Staines fought the case _en bloc_ with splendid zeal, andfiery eloquence. It would probably have resulted better for theirinterests if they had not defied their own counsel, outraged therespectable minds of the jury, and insulted the learned judge. Underthese circumstances they lost their case, and the rest of Winn's leavewas taken up in the Family's congenial pursuit of laying the blame oneach other. 

The second and more fatal visit heralded Winn's marriage. He had not hadtime to marry before. It would not be true to say that women had playedno part in his experiences, but the part they had played was neitherexalted nor durable. They figured in his imagination as an inferior typeof game, tiresome when captured. His life had been spent mainly inpursuit of larger objects. He had been sent straight from Sandhurst toSouth Africa, where he had fought with violence and satisfaction for twoyears, winning the D. S. O. , a broken nose, and a cut across the face. When the fighting was over, he obtained leave for a two-years' exploringexpedition into the heart of West Africa. Ten men had gone on thisexpedition, and two survived. Winn never talked of these experiences, but he once admitted to a friend that the early study of his sisters'characters had saved him in many awkward moments. He had known how toappeal to female savages with the unerring touch of experience. 

From West Africa he was called to the Indian frontier, where he put inseven years in variegated and extremely useful service. He received hismajority early, and disappeared for two years into Tibet, Manchuria, andChina. After that he came back to England for polo, and met EstelleFanshawe. She was lovely, gentle, intensely vain, and not very truthful. 

Lady Staines disposed of her at once as "a mincing ninny. " The phraseaggravated Winn, and his fancy deepened. It was stimulated by the factthat Estelle was the belle of the neighborhood and had a large supply ofardent admirers. It was almost like running a race with the odds againstyou. Winn was not a conceited man, and perhaps he thought the odds moreagainst him than they actually were. He was the second son of a man whowas immensely rich, (though Sir Peter was reported stingy to hischildren). Everybody knew who the Staines were, while the Fanshawesafter every effort and with nearly every attraction had not become apart of public knowledge. Besides, Estelle had been made love to forsome time, and Winn's way was undeniably different from that of herother admirers. 

He met her at a dance, and insisted upon dancing with her the wholeevening. He took her card away from her, and scored off all herindignant partners. In the interval of these decisive actions he madelove to her in a steady, definite way that was difficult to laugh at andimpossible to turn aside. 

When he said good-night to her he told her that he would probably comeand see her soon. She went away in a flutter, for his words, thoughcasual, had had a sharply significant sound; besides, he had very nearlykissed her; if she had been more truthful, she would have said quite. 

She didn't, in thinking it over, know at all how this had happened, andshe generally knew precisely how these things happened. 

Lady Staines told her son at breakfast a few mornings later what shethought of Miss Fanshawe. 

"She's a girl, " she observed, knocking the top off her egg, "who willdevelop into a nervous invalid or an advanced coquette, and it entirelydepends upon how much admiration she gets which she does. I hear she'sreligious, too, in a silly, egotistical way. She ought to have her neckwrung. "

Sir Peter disagreed; they heard him in the servants' hall. 

"Certainly not!" he roared; "certainly not! I don't think so at all! Thegirl's a damned pretty piece, and the man's one of my best tenants. He'sonly just come, and he's done wonders to the place already. And I won'thave the boy crabbed for fancying a neighbor! It's very natural heshould. You never have a woman in the house fit to look at. Who thedevil do you expect your boys to marry? Negresses or bar-maids?"

"Gentlewomen, " said Lady Staines, firmly, "unless their father'sbehavior prevents them from being accepted. "

Winn said nothing. He got up and began cutting ham at the sideboard. Hismother hesitated a moment; but as she had only roused one of her men, she made a further effort in the direction of the other. 

"The girl's a mean-spirited little liar, " she observed. "I wouldn't takeher as a housemaid. "

"You may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though, " Winn remarkedwithout turning round from the sideboard. 

[Illustration: "You may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though, "Winn remarked without turning round from the sideboard]

Sir Peter grunted. He didn't like this at all, but he couldn't very wellsay so without appearing to agree with his wife, a thing he hadcarefully avoided doing for thirty years. 

Lady Staines rose and gathered up her letters. 

"You're of age, " she said to her son, "and you've had about as muchexperience of civilized women as a European baby has of crocodiles, andyou'll be just about as safe and clever with them. As for you, Peter, pray don't trouble to tell me what you think of the Fanshawes in ayear's time. You've never had a tenant you haven't had a lawsuit withyet, and this time you'll be adding Winn's divorce proceedings to yourother troubles. I should think you might begin to save toward thedamages now. "

Sir Peter's oaths accompanied his wife across the dining-room to thedoor, which her son opened ceremoniously for her. Their eyes crossedlike swords. 

"If I get that girl, you'll be nice to her, " Winn said in a low voice. 

"As long as you are, " replied Lady Staines, with a grim smile. He didnot bang the door after her, as she had hoped; instead, he went to seethe girl. 

CHAPTER II

It was eleven o'clock when Winn arrived at the Fanshawes. Estelle wasbarely dressed, she always slept late, had her breakfast in bed, andgave as much trouble as possible to the servants. 

However, when she heard who had called to see her, she sent for a basketand some roses, and five minutes later strolled into the drawing-room, with her hat on, and the flowers in her hands. 

Her mother stayed in the garden and nervously thought out the lunch. 

Winn seized the basket out of Estelle's hands, took her by the wrists, and drew her to the window. 

She wasn't frightened of him, but she pretended to be. She said, "Oh, Major Staines!" She looked as soft and innocent as a cream-fed kitten. Winn cleared his throat. It made him feel rather religious to look ather. He did not of course see her as a kitten; he saw her approximatelyas an angel. 

"Look here, " he said, "my name's Winn. "

"You're hurting my wrists, " she murmured. He dropped them. "Winn, " shesaid under her breath. 

"I say, " he said after a moment's pause, "would you mind marrying me?"

Estelle lifted her fine China blue eyes to his. They weren't soft, butthey could sometimes look very mysterious. 

"Oh, " she said, "but, Winn--it's so sudden--so soon!"

"Leave's short, " Winn explained, "and besides, I knew the moment Ilooked at you, I wanted you. I don't know how you feel, of course;but--well--I'm sure you aren't the kind of girl to let a fellow kissyou, are you, and mean nothing?"

Estelle's long lashes swept her cheeks; she behaved exquisitely. Shewas, of course, exactly that kind of girl. 

"Ah, " she said, with a little tremble in her voice, "if I do marryyou--will you be kind to me?"

Winn trembled, too; he flushed very red, and suddenly he did thefunniest, most unlikely thing in the world: he got down on his kneesbeside her, and taking both her hands in his, he kissed them. 

"I'll be like this as much as ever you'll let me, " he said gravely. 

He had a great craving for sweetness, delicacy, and gentleness; he beganto tell her in little short, abrupt sentences how unworthy he was ofher, not fit to touch her really--he was afraid he'd been horriblyrough--and done lots of things she would have hated (he forgot tomention that he'd ever done anything worth doing as well); he explainedthat he didn't know any women a bit like her; there weren't any, ofcourse, _really_ like--but she knew what he meant. So that he expectedshe'd have to teach him a lot--would she--if she didn't mind, andoverlook his being stupid?

Estelle listened thoughtfully for a few minutes, then she asked him ifhe didn't think eight bridesmaids would be better than four?

He got up from his knees then. 

He didn't like discussing the wedding, and he got bored very soon andwent away, so that Mrs. Fanshawe didn't need to have the special lunchshe had ordered, after all. 

They were to have a very short engagement, and Estelle decided on fourbridesmaids and four pages; she was so small herself that children wouldlook prettier and more innocent. 

There was something particularly charming about a young wedding, andthey were to have a celebration first--Estelle was most particular aboutthat--and a wedding breakfast afterwards of course. Winn wasextraordinarily kind to her; he let her settle everything she liked andgave her exactly the ring she wanted--an immense emerald set withdiamonds. He wasn't in the least particular about where they spent thehoneymoon, after making a very silly suggestion, which Estelle promptlyover-ruled, that they might go to the East Coast and make a study offortifications. 

He agreed that London would do just as well, with theaters, and he couldlook up a man he knew at the War Office. Certainly they should go to theRitz if Estelle liked it; but it was rather noisy. 

The one point he did make was to have a young officer he liked, who hadbeen with him in China, Lionel Drummond, as his best man, instead ofhis cousin Lord Arlington. His brothers were out of the question, as hecouldn't have one without having a row with the other. Estelle wantedLord Arlington, but when she pressed the point, Winn gave her a mostextraordinary sharp look and said, "I thought I told you I wanted thatboy Drummond?" It was a most peculiar and disconcerting look, well knownin the Staines family. Trouble usually followed very quickly upon itsheels. Estelle shivered and gave in and was rewarded by a diamondbrooch. 

This showed her how important shivering was going to be in her marriedlife. 

The only really disagreeable time Estelle had during her engagement wasthe short half hour in which Lady Staines fulfilled her maternal duties. 

It was a rainy day and Lady Staines had walked two miles across thefields in what looked like a cricket cap, and a waterproof. 

She cleaned her boots as carefully as she could in the hall. They weresquare-toed and hob-nailed and most unsuitable for a drawing-room. 

Mrs. Fanshawe literally quailed before them. "You shouldn't have parquetfloors, " Lady Staines remarked, holding out her hand; "in the country, it's the ruin of them unless you wear paper soles, " she glancedsearchingly at Mrs. Fanshawe's and Estelle's feet. "And that of courseis the ruin of your feet. Probably you've lived in London all yourlives?"

Mrs. Fanshawe found herself in the position of apologizing for what hadhitherto been her proudest boast. Lady Staines looked tolerantly aroundher. "London's a poor place, " she observed, "and very shoddy. When myfriends the Malverns lived here, they had old oak and rather nicechintzes. I see you go in for color schemes and nicknacks. I hopeEstelle won't find Staines uncomfortable; however, she probably won't bewith us often. "

She turned to her future daughter-in-law. "You are Estelle, my dear, ain't you?" she demanded. "And I dare say you can't speak a word ofFrench in spite of your fine name. Can you?"

Estelle hesitated and blushed. "Not very much, I'm afraid, " shetruthfully murmured. It flashed through her mind that with Lady Stainesyou must be truthful if there was any possible chance of your beingfound out. 

"Hum!" said Lady Staines thoughtfully. "I can't see what people spend somuch on education for nowadays. I really can't! And you're going tomarry my second son, ain't you?" she demanded. "Well, I'm sure it's verykind of you. All the Staines have tempers, but Winn's is quite theworst. I don't want to exaggerate, but I really don't think you couldmatch it in this world. He generally keeps it, too! He was a nasty, murderous, little boy. I assure you I've often beaten him till he wasblack and blue and never got a word out of him. "

Mrs. Fanshawe looked horrified. "But my dear Lady Staines, " she urged, "surely you tried kindness?"

Lady Staines shook her head. "No, " she said, "I don't think so, I don'tthink I am kind--very. But he's turned out well, don't you think? He'sthe only one of my sons who's got honors--a 'D. S. O. ' for South Africa, and a C. B. For something or other, I never know what, in China; and hegot his Majority extraordinarily young for special services--or hewouldn't have been able to marry you, my dear, for his father won't helphim. He doesn't get drunk as often as the other two boys, either; infact, on the whole, I should call him satisfactory. And now he's chosenyou, and I'm sure we're all very grateful to you for taking him inhand. "

Mrs. Fanshawe offered her visitor tea; she was profoundly shocked, butshe thought that tea would help. Lady Staines refused it. "No, thank youvery much, " she said. "I must be getting back to give Sir Peter his. Ishall be late as it is, and I shall probably hear him swearing all downthe drive. We shall all be seeing more than enough of each other beforelong. But there's no use making a fuss about it, is there? We're a mostdisagreeable family, and I'm sure it'll be worse for you than for us. "

Estelle accompanied her future mother-in-law to the door. She had notbeen as much shocked as her mother. 

Lady Staines laid her small neat hand on the girl's arm. She looked ather very hard, but there was a spark of some kind, behind the hardness;if the eyes hadn't been those of Lady Staines, they might almost havebeen said to plead. 

"I wonder if you like him?" she said slowly. 

Estelle said, "Oh, dear Lady Staines, believe me--with all my heart!"

Lady Staines didn't believe her, but she smiled good-humoredly. "Yes, yes, my dear, I know!" she said. "But how much heart have you got? Yousee his happiness and yours depend on that. The woman who marries aStaines ought to have a good deal of heart and all of it ought to behis. "

Estelle put on an air of pretty dignity. "I have never loved any onebefore, " she asserted with serene untruthfulness (she felt sure thisfact couldn't be proved against her), "and Winn believes in my heart. "

"Does he?" said his mother. "I wonder. He believes in your pretty face!Well, it is pretty, I acknowledge that. Keep it as pretty as you can. "

She didn't kiss her future daughter-in-law, but she tapped her lightlyon the shoulder and trudged back with head erect through the rain. 

"It's a bad business, " she said to herself thoughtfully. "He's rushedhis fence and there's a ditch on the other side of it, deep enough todrown him!"

CHAPTER III

Winn wanted, if possible, a home without rows. He knew very little ofhomes, and nothing which had made him suppose this ideal likely to berealized. 

Still he went on having it, hiding it, and hoping for it. 

Once he had come across it. It was the time when he had decided toundertake a mission to Tibet without a government mandate. He wantedyoung Drummond to go with him. The job was an awkward and dangerous one. Certain authorities had warned Winn that though, if the results weresatisfactory, it would certainly be counted in his favor, shouldanything go wrong no help could be sent to him, and he would be heldpersonally responsible; that is he would be held responsible if he werenot dead, which was the most likely outcome of the whole business. 

It is easy to test a man on the Indian frontier, and Winn had had hiseye on Lionel Drummond for two years. He was a cool-headed, reliableboy, and in some occult and wholly unexpressed way Winn was consciousthat he was strongly drawn to him. Winn offered him the job, and evenconsented, when he was on leave, to visit the Drummonds and talk thematter over with the boy's parents. It was then that he discovered thatpeople really could have a quiet home. 

Mrs. Drummond was a woman of a great deal of character, very greatgentleness, and equal courage. She neither cried nor made fusses, and noone could even have imagined her making a noise. 

It was she who virtually settled, after a private talk with Winn, thatLionel might accompany him. The extraordinary thing that Mrs. Drummondsaid to Winn was, "You see, I feel quite sure that you'll look afterLionel, whatever happens. "

Winn had replied coldly, "I should never dream of taking a man whocouldn't look after himself. "

Mrs. Drummond said nothing. She just smiled at Winn as if he had agreedthat he would look after Lionel. General Drummond was non-committal. Heknew the boy would get on without the mission, but he also seemed to beinfluenced by some absurd idea that Winn was to be indefinitely trusted, so that he would say nothing to stop them. Lionel himself was wild withdelight, and the whole affair was managed without suspicion, resentment, or hostility. 

The expedition was quite as hard as the authorities had intimated, andat one point it very nearly proved fatal. A bad attack of dysentery andsnow blindness brought Lionel down at a very inconvenient spot, crossingthe mountains of Tibet during a blizzard. The rest of the party saidwith some truth that they must go forward or perish. Winn sent them onto the next settlement, keeping back a few stores and plenty ofcartridges. He said that he would rejoin them with Drummond whenDrummond was better, and if he did not arrive before a certain date theywere to push on without him. 

They were alone together for six weeks, and during these six weeks Winndiscovered that he was quite a new kind of person; for one thing hedeveloped into a first-rate nurse, and he could be just like a mother, and say the silliest, gentlest things. No one was there to see or hearhim, and the boy was so ill that he wouldn't be likely to rememberafterwards. He did remember, however, he remembered all his life. Thestores ran out and they were dependent on Winn's rifle for food. Theymelted snow water to drink, and there were days when their chanceslooked practically invisible. 

Somehow or other they got out of it, the boy grew better, the weatherimproved, and Winn managed, though the exact means were never specified, to drag Lionel on a sledge to the nearest settlement, where the rest ofthe party were still awaiting them. 

After that the expedition was successful and the friendship between thetwo men final. Winn didn't like to think what Mrs. Drummond would say tohim when they got back to England, but she let him down quite easily;she gave him no thanks, she only looked at him with Lionel's steady eyesand said, smiling a little, "I always knew you'd bring him back to me. "

Winn did not ask Lionel to stay at Staines Court until the wedding. Noneof the Staines went in much for making friends, and he didn't want hismother to see that he was fond of any one. 

The night before the wedding, however, Lionel arrived in the midst of analtercation as to who had ordered the motor to meet the wrong train. 

This lasted a long time because all the Staines, except Dolores, weregathered together, and it expanded unexpectedly into an attack onCharles, the eldest son, whose name had been coupled with that of a ladywhose professional aptitudes were described as those of a manicurist. There was a moment when murder of a particularly atrocious andinternecine character seemed the only possible outcome to thediscussion--then Charles in a white fury found the door. 

Before he had gone out of earshot Sir Peter asked Lionel what his fatherwould do if presented with a possible daughter-in-law so markedly frail?Sir Peter seemed to be laboring under the delusion that he had beenweakly favorable to his son's inclinations, and that any other fatherwould have expressed himself more forcibly. Lionel was saved from theawkwardness of disagreeing with him by an unexpected remark from LadyStaines. 

"A girl from some kind of a chemist's shop, " she observed musingly. "Ifancy she's too good for Charles. "

Sir Peter, who was fond of Charles, said the girl was probably not froma chemist's shop; and described to the horror of the butler, who hadentered to prepare the tea-table, just what kind of a place she probablywas from. 

Lady Staines looked at Winn, and said she didn't see that it was muchworse to marry a manicure girl than one who looked like a manequin. Theywere neither of them types likely to do credit to the family. Winnreplied that, as far as that went, bad clothes and good morals did notalways go together. He was prepared apparently with an apt illustration, when Isabella's husband, the Rev. Mr. Betchley, asked feebly if he mightgo up-stairs to rest. 

It was quite obvious to everybody that he needed it. 

The next morning at breakfast the manicure girl was again discussed, but in a veiled way so as not really to upset Charles before thewedding. 

Winn escaped immediately afterwards with Lionel. They went for a walk, most of which was conducted in silence; finally, however, they found alog, took out their pipes, and made themselves comfortable. 

Lionel said, "I wish I'd seen Miss Fanshawe; it must be awfully jollyfor you, Winn. "

Winn was silent for a minute or two, then he began, slowly gatheringimpetus as he went on: "Well--yes, of course, in a sense it is. I mean, I know I'm awfully lucky and all that, only--you see, old chap, I'mfrightfully ignorant of women. I know one sort of course--a jolly sightbetter than you do--but girls! Hang it all, I don't know girls. That'swhat worries me--she's such a little thing. " He paused a moment. "I hopeit's all right, " he said, "marrying her. It seems pretty rough on themsometimes, I think--don't you--I fancy she's delicate and all that. "Lionel nodded. "It does seem rather beastly, " he admitted, "their havingto have a hard time, I mean--but if they care for you--I suppose itworks out all right. " Winn paid no attention to this fruitless optimism. He went on with his study of Estelle. "She's--she's religious too, youknow, that's why we're to have that other service first. Rather niceidea, I think, don't you, what? Makes it a bit of a strain for herthough I'm afraid, but she'd never think of that. I'm sure she'splucky. " Lionel also was quite sure Estelle must be plucky. 

"Fancy you getting married, " Lionel said suddenly. "I can't see itsomehow. "

"I feel it funny myself, " Winn admitted. "You see, it's so damned long, and I never have seen much of women. I hope she won't expect me to talka lot or anything of that kind. Her people, you know, chatter like somany magpies--just oozes out of 'em. "

"We must be off, " Lionel said. 

They stood up, knocked the ashes out of their pipes, and prepared towalk on. 

It was a mild June day, small vague hills stretched behind them, andbefore them soft, lawn-like fields fell away to the river's edge. 

Everywhere the green of trees in a hundred tones of color and withdelicate, innumerable leaf shadows, laid upon the landscape, thefragrance and lightness of the spring. 

They were in a temperate land, every yard of it was cultivated andcivilized, immensely lived on and understood. None of it had beenneglected or was dangerous or strange to the eye of man. 

Simultaneously the thought flashed between them of other lands and ofsharper vicissitudes; they saw again bleak passes which were cruel deathtraps, and above them untrodden alien heights; they felt the solemnvastness of the interminable, flawless snows. They kept their eyes awayfrom each other--but they knew what each other was feeling, adventureand danger were calling to them--the old sting and thrill of an unendingtrail; and then from a little hollow in the guarded hills rang out thewedding bells. 

Lionel looked a little shyly at his chief. "I wonder, " he said, as Winnmade no response, "if we can ever do things--things together again, Imean--I should like to think we could. " Winn gave him a quick look andmoved hastily ahead over the field path toward the church. "Why thedevil shouldn't we?" he threw back at Lionel over his shoulder. 

CHAPTER IV

Estelle's wedding was a great success, but this was not surprising whenone realized how many years had been spent in preparation for it. Estelle was only twenty-three, but for the last ten years she had knownthat she would marry, and she had thought out every detail of theceremony except the bridegroom. You could have any kind of abridegroom--men were essentially imperfect--but you need have only onekind of ceremony, and that could be ideal. 

Estelle had visualized everything from the last pot of lilies--alwaysAnnunciation ones, not Arum, which look pagan--at the altar to the redcloth at the door. There were to be rose-leaves instead of rice; thewedding was to be in June, with a tent in the garden and strawberries. 

If possible, she would be married by a bishop; if not, by a dean. Thebishop having proved too remote, the dean had to do. But he was afine-looking man, and would be made a bishop soon, so Estelle did notreally mind. The great thing was to have gaiters on the lawn afterward. 

The day was perfect. Estelle woke at her usual hour in the morning, herheart was beating a little faster than it generally did, and then sheremembered with a pang of joy the perfect fit of her wedding-gownhanging in the wardrobe. She murmured to herself:

"One love, one life. " She was not thinking of Winn, but she had alwaysmeant to say that on her wedding morning. 

Then she had early tea. Her mother came in and kissed her, and Estelleimplored her not to fuss, and above all not to get red in the facebefore going to church, where she was to wear a mauve hat. 

It was difficult for Mrs. Fanshawe not to fuss, Estelle was the mostexpensive of her children and in a way the most important; for if shewasn't pleased it was always so dreadful. There were half a dozenyounger children and any of them might do something tiresome. 

Estelle arrived at the church five minutes late, on her father's arm, followed by four little bridesmaids in pink and white, and four littlepages in blue and white. The effect was charming. 

The village church was comfortably full, and with her eyes modestly castdown Estelle managed to see that all the right people were there, including the clergyman's daughters, whom she had always hated. 

The Fanshawes and her mother's relations the Arnots had come down fromtown. They all looked very prosperous people with good dressmakers andtailors, and most of them had given her handsome silver wedding presentsor checks. 

They were on one side of the church just as Estelle had always picturedthem, and on the other were the Staines and their relations. The Staineshad very few friends, and those they had were hard riding, huntingpeople, who never look their best in satin. There was no doubt that theStaines sitting in the front seat were a blot on the whole affair. 

You couldn't tell everybody that they were a county family, and theydidn't look like it. They were too large and coarse, and took up fartoo much room. There they sat, six big creatures in one pew, allrestless, all with big chins, hard eyes, jutting eyebrows, and adreadful look as if they were buccaneering. As a matter of fact they allfelt rather timid and flat, and meant to behave beautifully, though SirPeter needn't have blown his nose like a trumpet and stampedsimultaneously just as Estelle entered. 

At the top of the aisle Winn waited for his bride; and his boots weredusty. Standing behind him was the handsomest man that Estelle had everseen; and not only that, but the very kind of man she had always wishedto see. It made Estelle feel for a moment like a good housekeeper, whohas not been told that a distinguished guest was coming to dinner. Ifshe had known, she would have ordered something different. She felt in aflash that he was the kind of bridegroom who would have suited theceremony. 

He was several inches taller than Winn, slim, with a small athletic headand perfectly cut Greek features; his face would have been a shade tooregular and too handsome if he had not had the very same hard-bittenlook in his young gray eyes that Winn had in his bright, hawk-likebrown ones. Lionel was looking at Estelle as she came up the aisle in atender, protective, admiring way, as if she were a very beautifulflower. This was most satisfactory, but at least Winn might have donethe same. Instead of looking as if he were waiting for his bride, helooked exactly as if he were holding a narrow pass against an enemy. Hisvery figure had a peculiarly stern and rock-like expression. His broadshoulders were set, his rather heavy head erect, and when he did look atEstelle, it was an inconceivably sharp look as if he were trying to seethrough her. 

She didn't know, of course, that on his way to church he had thoughtevery little white cloud in the blue sky was like her, and every lily ina cottage garden. There was a drop of sardonic blood in him, that madehim challenge her even at the moment of achieved surrender. 

"By Jove, " he thought to himself, "can she be as beautiful as shelooks?"

Then the service began, and they had the celebration first, andafterward the usual ceremony, perfectly conducted, and including therather over-exercised "Voice that Breathed o'er Eden. " The dean gavethem an excellent, short and evasive address about their married duties, a great deal nicer than anything in the Prayer Book, and the March fromLohengrin took them to the vestry. In the vestry Winn began to betiresome. The vicar said:

"Kiss the bride, " and Winn replied:

"No, thanks; not at present, " looking like a stone wall, and stickinghis hands in his pockets. The vicar, who had known him from a boy, didnot press the point; but of course the dean looked surprised. Any deanwould. 

The reception afterwards would have been perfect but for the Staines, who tramped through everything. Estelle perpetually saw them burstinginto places where they weren't wanted, and shouting remarks whichsounded abusive but were meant to be cordial to cowering Fanshawes andArnots. It was really not necessary for Sir Peter to say in the middleof the lawn that what Mr. Fanshawe wanted was more manure. 

It seemed to Estelle that wherever she went she heard Sir Peter'sresonant voice talking about manure. 

Lady Staines was much quieter; still she needn't have remarked toEstelle's mother, "Well--I'm glad to see you have seven children, _that_looks promising at any rate. " It made two unmarried ladies of uncertainage walk into a flower-bed. 

Winn behaved abominably. He took the youngest Fanshawe child anddisappeared with him into the stable yard. 

Even Charles and James behaved better than that. They hurled well-chosenincomprehensible jokes at the clergyman's daughters--dreadful girls whoplayed hockey and had known the Staines all their lives--and theseladies returned their missiles with interest. 

It caused a good deal of noise, but it sounded hearty. 

Isabella, being a clergyman's wife, talked to the Dean, who soon lookedmore astonished than ever. 

At last it was all comfortably over. Estelle, leaning on her father'sarm in pale blue, kissed her mother. Mrs. Fanshawe looked at the endrather tactlessly cheerful. (She had cried throughout the ceremony, just when she had worn the mauve hat and Estelle had hoped shewouldn't. )

Mr. Fanshawe behaved much more suitably; he said to Winn with atrembling voice, "Take care of my little girl, " and Winn, who might havesaid something graceful in reply, merely shook his father-in-law's handwith such force that Mr. Fanshawe, red with pain, hastily retreated. 

Lionel Drummond was charming and much appreciated everywhere; heretrieved Winn from the stable yard when no one could guess where hewas, and was the first person to call Estelle, Mrs. Staines; he wound upthe affair with a white satin slipper. 

When they drove off, Estelle turned toward Winn with shining eyes andquivering lips. It was the moment for a judicious amount of love-making, and all Winn said was:

"Look here, you know, those high-heeled things on your feet areabsolutely murderous. They might give you a bad tumble. Don't let me seeyou in 'em again. Are you sure you're quite comfortable, and all that?"

He made the same absurd fuss about Estelle's comfort in the railwaycarriage; but it was one of the last occasions on which he did it, because he discovered almost immediately that however many things youcould think of for Estelle's comfort, she could think of more forherself, and no matter how much care or attention was lavished upon her, it could never quite equal her unerring instinct for her ownrequirements. 

After this he was prepared to be ardent, but Estelle didn't care forardor in a railway train, so she soon stopped it. One of the funnythings she discovered about Winn was that it was the easiest possiblething to stop his ardor, and this was really odd, because it was notfrom lack of strength in his emotion. She never quite discovered what itdid come from, because it didn't occur to her that Winn would very muchrather have died than offend or tire the woman he loved. 

She thought that Winn was rather coarse, but he wasn't as coarse asthat!

Estelle had a great deal that she wanted to talk over about the wedding. The whole occasion flamed out at her--a perfect project, perfectlycarried out. She explained to Winn at length who everybody was and howthere had been some people there who had had to be taken down, andothers who had had to be pushed forward, and her mother explained to, and her father checked, and the children (it was too dreadful how they'dlet Bobby run after Winn), kept as much out of the way as possible. 

Winn listened hard and tried to follow intelligently all the familyhistories she evolved for him. At last after a rather prolonged pause onhis part, just at a point when he should have expressed admiration ofher guidance of a delicate affair, Estelle glanced at him and discoveredthat he was asleep! They hadn't been married for three hours, and hecould go to sleep in the middle of their first real talk! She was sureLionel Drummond wouldn't have done any such thing. But Winn was old--hewas thirty-five--and she could see quite plainly now that the hair roundthe tops of his ears was gray. She looked at him scornfully, but hedidn't wake up. 

When he woke up he laughed. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I believe I've been to sleep!" but he didn'tapologize. He began instead to tell her some things that might interesther, about what Drummond, his best man, and he, had done in Manchuria, just as if nothing had happened; but naturally Estelle wouldn't beinterested. She was first polite, then bored, then captious. Winn lookedat her rather hard. "Are you trying to pay me back for falling asleep?"he asked with a queer little laugh. "Is that what you're up to?" Estellestiffened. 

"Certainly not, " she said. "I simply wasn't very interested. I don'tthink I like Chinese stories, and Manchuria is just the same, ofcourse. "

Winn leaned over her, with a wicked light in his eyes, like a naughtyschool boy. "Own up!" he said, laying his rough hand very gently on hershoulder. "Own up, old lady!"

But has anybody ever owned up when they were being spiteful?

Estelle didn't. She looked at Winn's hand till he withdrew it, and thenshe remarked that she was feeling faint from want of food. 

After she had had seven chicken sandwiches, pâté de foie gras, half amelon, and some champagne, she began to be agreeable. 

Winn was delighted at this change in her and quite inclined to thinkthat their little "breeze" had been entirely due to his own awkwardness. Still, he wished she had owned up. 

CHAPTER V

It took Winn a month to realize that he had paid his money, had his shy, and knocked down an empty cocoanut. 

He couldn't get his money back, and he must spend the rest of his lifecarrying the cocoanut about with him. 

It never occurred to him to shirk the institution of marriage. Thechurch, the law, and the army stood in his mind for good, indeliblethings. Estelle was his wife as much as his handkerchief was hishandkerchief. This meant that they were to be faithful to each other, goout to dinner together, and that he was to pay her bills. He knew thegreat thing in any tight corner was never under any circumstances to letgo. All the dangers he had ever been in, had yielded, only because hehadn't. 

It was true he had not been married before, but the same rule no doubtheld good of marriage. If he held on to it, something more bearablewould come of it. Then one could be out of the house a good deal, andthere was the regiment. He began to see his way through marriage as aman sees his way through a gap in an awkward fence. The unfortunate partof it was that he couldn't get through the gap unless Estelle shared hisinsight. 

He would have liked to put it to her, but he didn't know how; he neverhad had a great gift of expression, and something had brought him upvery short in his communications with his wife. 

It was so slight a thing that Estelle herself had forgotten all aboutit, but to a Staines it was absolutely final. She had told the gardenerthat Winn wanted hyacinths planted in the front bed. Winn hadn't wanteda garden at all, and he had let her have her way in everything else; buthe had said quite plainly that he wouldn't on any account havehyacinths. The expression he used about them was excessively coarse, andit certainly should have remained in Estelle's memory. He had said, thatthe bally things stank. Nevertheless, Estelle had told the gardenerthat the master wanted hyacinths, and the gardener had told Winn. Winngazed at the gardener in a way which made him wish that he had neverbeen a gardener, but had taken up any other profession in which he wasunlikely to meet a glance so "nasty. " Then Winn said quietly:

"You are perfectly sure, Parsons, that Mrs. Staines told you it was _my_wish to have the hyacinths?" And the gardener had said:

"Yes, sir. She _did_ say, sir, as 'ow you 'ad a particler fancy forthem. " And Winn had gone into the house and asked Estelle what the devilshe meant? Estelle immediately denied the hyacinths and the gardener. People like that, she said, always misunderstand what one said to them. 

"Very well, then, " Winn replied. "He has lied to me, and must go. I'lldismiss him at once. He told me distinctly that you had said I likedthem. "

Estelle fidgeted. She didn't want the gardener to go. She reallycouldn't remember what she'd said and what she hadn't said to him. AndWinn was absurd, and how could it matter, and the people next door hadhyacinths, and they'd always had them at home!

Winn listened in silence. He didn't say anything more about the gardenerhaving lied, and he didn't countermand the hyacinths; only from thatmoment he ceased to believe a single word his wife said to him. This isdiscouraging to conversation and was very unfair to Estelle; for shemight have told the truth more often if she had not discovered that itmade no difference to her husband whether she told it to him or not. 

Estelle knew that her heart was broken, but on the whole she did notfind that she was greatly inconvenienced. 

In an unhappy marriage the woman generally scores unless she is in lovewith her husband. Estelle never had been in love with Winn; she had hadan agreeable feeling about him, and now she had a disagreeable feelingabout him, but neither of these emotions could be compared withbeaten-brass hot-water jugs, which she had always meant to have when shewas married. 

If Winn had remained deeply in love with her, besides making things morecomfortable at meals it would have been a feather in her cap. Still hiscruelty could be turned into another almost more becoming feather. 

She said to herself and a little later to the nearest clergyman, "I mustmake an offering of my sorrow. " She offered it a good deal, almost toevery person she met. Even the cook was aware of it; but, like allservants, she unhesitatingly sided with the master. He might be in thewrong, but he was seldom if ever in the kitchen. 

They had to have a house and servants, because Estelle felt thatmarriage without a house was hardly legal; and Winn had given way aboutit, as he was apt to do about things Estelle wanted. His very crueltymade him particularly generous about money. 

But Estelle was never for a moment taken in by his generosity; she sawthat it was his way of getting out of being in love with her. Winn was abad man and had ruined her life--this forced her to supplement hertrousseau. 

Later on when he put down one of his hunters and sold a polo pony sothat she could have a maid, she began to wonder if she had at all foundout how bad he really was?

There was one point he never yielded; he firmly intended to rejoin hisregiment in March. 

The station to which they would have to go was five thousand feet up, lonely, healthy, and quite unfashionable. Winn had tried to make it seemjolly to her and had mentioned as a recommendation apparently that itwas the kind of place in which you needn't wear gloves. It was close tothe border, and women had to be a little careful where they rode. 

Estelle had every intention of being careful; she would, she thought, betoo careful ever to go to the Indian frontier at all. She had oftenheard of the tragic separations of Anglo-Indian marriages; it was truethat they were generally caused by illness and children, but there mustbe other methods of obtaining the same immunities. 

She had never had any difficulty with the doctor at home; she relied onhim entirely, and he had invariably ordered her what she wanted, after anice quiet talk. 

Travers, the regimental doctor, was different, he looked exactly like avet, and only understood things you had actually broken. Still Estelleput her trust in Providence; no self-respecting higher Power could wisha woman of her type to be wasted on a hill station. Something wouldhappen to help her, and if not, she would be given grace to helpherself. 

One day Winn came down to breakfast with a particularly disagreeableexpression. He said "good-morning" into his newspaper as usual withoutnoticing her pathetic little smile. 

He only unburied himself to take his second cup of coffee, then he said, without looking at her, "It's a beastly nuisance, the War Office want me to extend myleave--hanged if I do. "

Estelle thanked Heaven in a flash and passed him the marmalade. She hadnever dreamed the War Office could be so efficient. 

"That shows, " she said gracefully, "what they think of you!"

Winn turned his sardonic eyes towards her. "Thanks, " he drawled, "I daresay it's the kind of thing you'd like. They propose that I should stayon here at the Staff College for another year and write 'em a damned redtape report on Tibet. " His irony, dropped from him. "If it was a job, "he said in a low voice, "I'd go like a shot. "

"Mightn't it mean promotion?" she asked a little nervously. Winnshrugged his shoulders. "I can write anything they want out there, " hesaid gloomily. "All I want is ink! What I know I've got in my head, yousee. I'd take that with me. "

"But you couldn't talk things over with them or answer their questions, could you?" Estelle intelligently ventured. She had an intelligencewhich ripened along the line of her desires. 

"I could tell them anything they want to know in ten minutes!" said Winnimpatiently. "They don't want information, they want a straight swiftkick! They know what I think--they just want me to string out a lot ofexcuses for them not to act! Besides the chief thing is--they'd have tosend for me, if there was a row--I know the ground and the other chapsdon't. I wish to God there'd be a row!"

Estelle sighed and gazed pathetically out of the window. Her eyes restedon the bed where the hyacinths were planted, and beyond it to gorsebushes and a corrugated iron shed. 

They were at Aldershot, which was really rather a good place for meetingsuitable people. "What do you intend to do?" she asked, trembling alittle. Winn was at his worst when questioned as to his intentions; hepreferred to let them explode like fire-crackers. 

"Do!" he snorted, "Write and tell 'em when they've got any kind of jobon the size of six-pence I'll be in it! And if not Tibet's about asuseful to draw up a report on--as ice in the hunting season--and I'm offin March--and that's that!"

A tear rolled down Estelle's cheek and splashed on the tablecloth; shetrembled harder until her teaspoon rattled. 

Winn looked at her. "What's up?" he asked irritably. "Anything wrong?"

"I suppose, " she said, prolonging a small sob, "you don't care what Ifeel about going to India?"

"But you knew we were always going out in March didn't you?" he asked, as if that had anything to do with it! The absurd face value that hegave to facts was enough to madden any woman. Estelle sobbed harder. 

"I never knew I should be so unhappy!" she moaned. Winn lookedextremely foolish and rather conscience-stricken; he even made amovement to rise, but thought better of it. 

"I'm sure I'm awfully sorry, " he said apologetically. "I suppose youmean you're a bit sick of me, don't you?" Estelle wiped her eyes, andreturned to her toast. "Can't you see, " she asked bitterly, "that ourlife together is the most awful tragedy?"

"Oh, come now, " said Winn, who associated tragedy solely with policecourts and theaters. "It's not so bad as all that, is it? We can rubalong, you know. I dare say I've been rather a brute, but I shall be alot better company when I'm back in the regiment. We must buck up, that's all! I don't like to bother you about it, but I think you'd seethings differently if we had a kid. I do really. I've seen heaps ofscratch marriages turn out jolly well--when the kids began to come!"

"How can you be so disgustingly coarse!" shuddered Estelle. "Besides, I'm far too delicate! Not that you would care if I died! You'd justmarry again!"

"Oh, no! I shouldn't do that, " said Winn in his horrid quiet way whichmight mean anything. He got up and walked to the window. "You wouldn'tdie, " he observed with his back turned to her. "You'd be a jolly sightstronger all the rest of your life! I asked Travers!"

"Oh!" she cried, "you don't mean to tell me that you talked me over withthat disgusting red-faced man!"

"I don't talk people over, " said Winn without turning round. "He's adoctor. I asked his opinion!"

"Well, " she said, "I think it was horrible of you--and--and mostungentlemanly. If I'd wanted to know, I'd have found out for myself. Ihaven't the slightest confidence in regimental doctors. "

Winn said nothing. One of the things Estelle most disliked in him wasthe way in which it seemed as if he had some curious sense of delicacyof his own. She wanted to think of Winn as a man impervious to allrefinement, born to outrage the nicer susceptibility of her own mind, but there were moments when it seemed as if he didn't think thesusceptibilities of her mind were nice at all. He was not awed by herpurity. 

He didn't say anything of course, but he let certain subjectsprematurely drop. 

Suddenly he turned round from the window and fixed his eyes on hers. Shethought he was going to be very violent, but he wasn't, he talked quitequietly, only something hard and bright in his eyes warned her to becareful. 

"Look here, " he said, "I've thought of something, a kind of bargain!I'll give in to you about this job, if you'll give in to me about theother! It's no use fighting over things, is it?

"If you'll have a kid, I'll stay on here for a year more; if you won't, I'll clear out in March and you'll have to come with me, for I can'tafford two establishments. I don't see what else to offer you unless youwant to go straight back to your people. You'd hardly care to go tomine, if they'd have you. 

"But if you do what I ask about the child--I'll meet you all the wayround--I swear to--you shan't forget it! Only you must ride straight. Ifyou play me any monkey tricks over it--you'll never set eyes on meagain; and I'm afraid you'll have to have Travers, because I trust him, not some slippery old woman who'd let you play him like a fish! D'youunderstand?"

Estelle stared aghast at this mixture of brutality and cunning. Her mindflew round and round like a squirrel in a cage. 

She could have managed beautifully if it hadn't been for Travers. Travers would be as impervious to handling as a battery mule. She reallywouldn't be able to do anything with Travers. He looked as if he drank;but he didn't. 

Of course having a baby was simply horrid; lots of women got out of itnowadays who were quite happily married. 

It was disgusting of Winn to suggest it when he didn't even love her. 

But once she had one, if she really did give way, a good deal might bedone with it. 

Maternity was sacred; being a wife on the other hand was "foreverclimbing up the climbing wave, " there was nothing final about it asthere was in being able to say, "I am the mother of your child!"

Her wistful blue eyes expanded. She saw her own way spreading out beforeher like a promised land. "I can't, " she said touchingly, "decide allthis in a minute. "

He could stay on for two years at the War Office, and Estelle meant himto stay without inconvenience to herself. He tried bargaining with her;but her idea of a bargain was one-sided. 

"I sometimes feel as if you kept me out of everything, " she said atlast. 

Estelle was feeling her way; she thought she might collect a few extrasto add to her side of the bargain. 

Apparently she was right. Winn was all eagerness to meet her. "How doyou mean?" he asked anxiously. 

"Oh, " she said contemplatively, "such heaps of things! One thing, Idon't expect you've ever noticed that you never ask your friends to stayhere. I've had all mine; you've never even asked your mother! It's as ifyou were ashamed of me. "

"I'll ask her like a shot if you like, " he said eagerly. Estelle was notanxious for a visit from Lady Staines, but she thought it sounded betterto begin with her. She let her pass. 

"It's not only your relations, " she went on; "it's your friends. Whatmust they think of a wife they are never allowed to see?"

"But they're such a bachelor crew, " he objected. "It never occurred tome you'd care for them--just ordinary soldier chaps like me, not a bitclever or amusing. "

Estelle did not say that crews of bachelors are seldom out of place inthe drawing-room of a young and pretty woman. She looked past herhusband to where in fancy she beheld the aisle of a church and the youngAdonis, who had been his best man, with eyes full of reverence and awegazing at her approaching figure. 

"I thought, " she said indifferently, "you liked that man you insisted onhaving instead of Lord Arlington at the wedding?"

"I do, " said Winn. "He's my best friend. I meet him sometimes in town, you know. "

"He must think it awfully funny, " said Estelle, sadly, "our never havinghim down here. "

"He's not that sort, " said Winn. "He was my sub, you know. He wouldn'tthink anything funny unless I told him to. We know each other ratherwell. "

"That makes it funnier still, " said Estelle, relentlessly. 

"Oh, all right, " said Winn, after a moment's pause. "Have him down hereif you like. Shall I write to him or will you?"

"He's your friend, " said Estelle, politely. 

"Yes, " said Winn, "but it's your idea. " There was a peculiar look in hiseyes, as if he wanted to warn her about something. He went to the doorand then glanced back at her, apparently hoping that she had changed hermind. 

Estelle hadn't the faintest intention of changing her mind. She hadalready decided to put sweet peas in Lionel's room and a marked copy of"The Road Mender. "

"You may as well ask him yourself, " said Winn, "if you really want himto come. "

CHAPTER VI

It was time, Estelle felt, that the real things of life should come backto her. She had had them before marriage--these real things--light, swift, contacts with chosen spirits; friendships not untinged with aliability to become something less capable of definition. But since hermarriage she had been forced into a world of secondary experiences. Winn, to begin with, had stood very much in the way, and when he hadceased to block the paths of sentiment she had not found a substitute. At Aldershot, where they lived, there was an unspoken rule that bridesshould be left alone. Women called, and men were polite, but whenEstelle began those delicate personal conversations which led the way todeeper spiritual contacts she discovered that nothing followed. Shecould not say that she found the men elusive; stone walls are notelusive, but they do not lend themselves to an easy way across country. As to women, theoretically Estelle desired their friendship just asmuch as that of men; but in practice she generally found themunsympathetic, and incapable of the finest type of intimacy. They didnot seem to know what the word devotion meant. Men did, especially youngmen, though the older ones talked more about it. Estelle had alreadyseen herself after marriage as a confidante to Winn's young brotherofficers. She would help them as only a good woman can. (She foresawparticularly how she would help to extricate them from the influences ofbad women. It was extraordinary how many women who influenced men at allwere bad!) Estelle never had any two opinions about being a good womanherself. She couldn't be anything else. Good women held all the cards, but there was no reason why they shouldn't be attractive; it was theirfailure to grasp this potentiality, which gave bad women their temporarysway. 

It was really necessary in the missionary career open to young andattractive married women, to be magnetic. Up to a certain point men mustbe led on, because if they didn't care for you in the right way youcouldn't do anything with them at all. After that point, they must begently and firmly stopped, or else they might become tiresome, and thatwould be bad both for them and for you. Especially with a husband likeWinn, who seemed incapable of grasping fine shades, and far too capableof dealing roughly and brutally with whatever he did grasp. There hadbeen a dress, for instance, that he simply refused to let Estellewear--remarking that it was a bit too thick--though that was really thelast quality it had possessed. 

The question of congenial friendship was therefore likely to be adifficulty, but Estelle had never forgotten Lionel Drummond. When shestopped thinking about Winn except as an annoyance, it became necessaryfor her to think of somebody else, and her mind fixed itself at onceupon her husband's friend. It seemed to her that in Lionel Drummond shewould find a perfect spiritual counterpart. She dreamed of a friendshipwith him too deep for mere friendliness, too late for accepted love; andit seemed to her exactly the kind of thing she wanted. Hand in hand theywould tread the path of duty together, surrounded by a rosy mist. 

They might even lead Winn to higher things; but at this point Estelle'simagination balked. She could not see Winn being led--he was tootruculent--and he had never in his tenderest moments evinced theslightest taste for higher things. It would be better perhaps if theysimply set him a good example. He would be certain not to follow it. 

She and Lionel would have terrible moments, of course. Estelle thrilledat the thought of these moments, and from time to time she slightlystretched the elastic of the path of duty to meet them. They would stillkeep on it, of course; they would never go any further than Petrarch andLaura. These historic philanderers should be their limit, and when theworst came to the worst, Estelle would softly murmur to Lionel, "Petrarch and Laura have borne it, and we must bear it too. "

She became impatient for Lionel's arrival and bought a new andexquisitely becoming blue chiffon dress. Both she and her maid were sostruck by her appearance that when Estelle heard Winn banging about atthe last moment in his dressing room, she knocked at his door. Even thelowest type of man can be used as a superior form of looking glass. Heshouted "Come in!" and stared at her while he fumbled at his collarstud; then he lifted his eyebrows and said "War-paint--eh?"

"I only wanted to remind you, dear, " said Estelle patiently, "that thekey of the wine cellar is in my bureau drawer. "

Lionel arrived before Winn had finished dressing. Estelle greeted himwith outstretched hands. "I am so very glad to see you at last, " shesaid in her softest, friendliest voice. "I think it will do Winn good tohave you here. "

Lionel laughed shyly. 

"I shouldn't have thought, " he said, "that Winn would need much moregood. "

"Ah, my dear fellow!" said Winn's voice behind him, "you don't know howgreat my needs are. Sorry I couldn't meet you. "

Estelle's beautiful, wavering eyes rested for a moment on her husband. She had never known a man to dress so quickly, and it seemed to her anunnecessary quality. 

The dinner was a great success. Both men were absurdly gay. Winn toldgood stories, laughed at Lionel, and rallied his young wife. She hadnever seen him like this before, and she put it down to the way one mansets off another. 

Estelle felt that she was being a great success, and it warmed herheart. The two men talked for her and listened to her; she had a momentwhen she thought that perhaps, after all, she needn't relegate Winn to alower world. 

They accepted with enthusiasm her offer to sing to them after dinner andthen they kept her waiting in the drawing-room for an hour and a half. 

She sat there opposite a tall Italian mirror, quivering with her power, her beauty, her ability to charm, and with nothing before her but theempty coffee-cups. 

She played a little, she even sang a little (the house was small) torecall them to a sense of her presence, but inexplicably they clung totheir talk. Winn who at ordinary times seemed incapable of more thandisconnected fragments of speech was (she could hear him now and thenquite distinctly) talking like a cataract; and Lionel was, if anything, worse. Her impatience turned into suspicion. Probably Winn was poisoninghis friend's mind against her. Perhaps he was drinking too much, SirPeter did, and people often took after their fathers. That would have tobe another point for Lionel and her to tackle. At last they came in, andLionel said without any attempt at an apology:

"We should love some music, Mrs. Winn. "

Winn said nothing. He stuck his hands into his pockets, and stood infront of the fireplace in a horribly British manner while she turnedover her songs. Estelle sang rather prettily. She preferred songs of atype that dealt with bitter regret over unexplained partings. She sangthem with a great deal of expression and a slight difficulty in lettinggo of the top notes. After she had sung two or three, Lionel said:

"Now, Winn, you sing. "

Estelle started. She had never before heard of this accomplishment ofher husband's. It occurred to her now that Lionel would think it verystrange she hadn't, but he need never know unless Winn gave her away. She need not have been afraid. Winn said quietly, as if he said it toher every evening, "D'you mind playing for me, Estelle?" Then hedragged out from under her music a big black book in which he hadpainstakingly copied and collected his selection of songs. 

He had a high, clear baritone, very true and strangely impressive; itfilled the little room. When he had finished, Lionel forgot to askEstelle to sing again. Winn excused himself; he said he had a letter ortwo to write and left them. 

"It's jolly, your both singing, " Lionel said, looking at her with thesame admiring friendliness he had shown her before. She guessed thenthat Winn had said nothing against her. After all, at the bottom of herheart she had known he wouldn't. You can't live with a man for fivemonths and not know where you are safe. 

Estelle smiled prettily. 

"Yes, " she said gently, "music is a great bond, " and then she began totalk to Lionel about himself. 

She had a theory that all men liked to talk exclusively aboutthemselves, and it is certain that most men enjoyed their conversationwith her; but in this particular instance she made a mistake. Lioneldid not like talking about himself, and above all he dislikedsympathetic admiration. He was not a conceited man, and it had notoccurred to him that he was a suitable subject for admiration. Nor didhe see why he should receive sympathy. He had had an admirably free andhappy life with parents who were his dearest friends, and with a friendwho was to him a hero beyond the need of definition. 

Still, he wouldn't have shrunk from talking about Winn with Estelle. Itwas her right to talk about him, her splendid, perfect privilege. Hesupposed that she was a little shy, because she seemed to slip away fromtheir obvious great topic; but he wished, if she wasn't going to talkabout Winn, she would leave his people alone. 

She tried to sympathize with him about his home difficulties, and whenshe discovered that he hadn't any, her sympathy veered to the horribledistance he had to be away from it. 

"Oh, well, " said Lionel, "it's my father's old regiment, you know; thatmakes it awfully different. They know as much about my life as I domyself, and when I don't get leave, they often come out to me for amonth or two. They're good travelers. "

"They must be simply wonderful!" Estelle said ecstatically. Lionel saidnothing. He looked slightly amazed. It seemed so funny that Winn, whohadn't much use for ecstasy, should have married a so easily ecstaticwife. 

"I do envy you, " she said pathetically, "all that background of homecompanionship. We were brought up so differently. It was not my parents'fault of course--" she added rather quickly. Something in Lionel'sexpression warned her that he would be unsympathetic to confidencesagainst parents. 

"Well, you've got Winn, " he said, looking at her with his steadfastencouraging eyes, "you've got your background now. " He was prepared toput up with a little ecstasy on this subject, but Estelle looked awayfrom him, her great eyes strangely wistful and absorbed. She was anextraordinary exquisite and pretty little person, like a fairy on aChristmas tree, or a Dresden china shepherdess, not a bit, somehow, likea wife. 

"Yes, " she said, twisting her wedding ring round her tiny manicuredfinger. "But sometimes I am a little anxious about him--I know it'ssilly of me. "

Lionel's shyness fell away from him with disconcerting suddenness. "Whyare you anxious?" he demanded. "What do you mean, Mrs. Winn?"

Estelle hesitated, she hadn't meant to say exactly what her fear was, she only wanted to arouse the young man's chivalry and to talk in someway that approached intimacy. 

Everything must have a beginning, even Petrarch and Laura. 

She found Lionel's eyes fixed upon her with a piercing quality difficultto meet. He obviously wouldn't understand if she didn't meananything--and she hardly knew him well enough to touch on her realdifficulties with Winn, those would have to come later. 

But she must be anxious about something--she was forced into the rathermeager track of her husband's state of health. 

"I don't quite know, " she mused, "of course he seems perfectlystrong--but I sometimes wonder if he is as strong as he looks. "

Lionel brushed her wonder aside. "Please tell me exactly what you'venoticed, " he said, as if he were a police sergeant and she were somereluctant and slightly prevaricating witness. 

She hadn't, as a matter of fact, noticed anything. "He sometimes looksterribly tired, " she said a little uncertainly, "but I dare say it's allmy foolishness, Mr. Drummond. I am afraid I am inclined to be nervousabout other people's health--" Estelle sighed softly. She often accusedherself of faults which no one had discovered in her. "Winn, I am sure, would be the first to laugh at me. "

"Yes, I dare say he would, " said Lionel quietly. "But I never will, Mrs. Winn. " She raised her eyes gratefully to him--at last she had succeededin touching him. 

"You see, " Lionel explained, "I care too much for him myself. "

Her eyes dropped. She had a feeling that Petrarch and Laura had hardlybegun like that. 

The next few days were very puzzling to Estelle; nobody behaved as sheexpected them to behave, including herself. She found Lionel alwaysready to accept her advances with open-hearted cordiality, but she hadto make the advances. She had not meant to do this. Her idea had beento be a magnet, and magnets keep quite still; needles do all the moving. But this particular needle (except that it didn't appear at all soft)might have been made of cotton wool. 

And Winn wouldn't behave at a disadvantage; he was neither tyrannicalnor jealous. He left her a great deal to Lionel, and treated her withgood-natured tolerance in private and with correct attention before hisfriend. 

In theory Estelle had always stated her belief in platonic friendship, but she had never been inconvenienced by having to carry it out. Onething had always led to another. She had imagined that Lionel (in hisrelations with her) would be a happy mixture of Lancelot and Galahad. The Galahad side of him would appear when Lancelot becameinconvenient--and the Lancelot side of him would be there to fall backupon when Galahad got too dull. But in their actual relation thereseemed to be some important ingredient left out. Of course Lancelot wasguilty and Estelle had never for a moment intended Lionel to be guilty, but on the other hand Lancelot was in love with the Queen. 

This quality was really essential. 

Lancelot had had a great affection for the King of course, but that hadbeen subsidiary; and this was what puzzled Estelle most, was Lionel'sfeeling for her subsidiary to his feeling for Winn?

Lionel was delightful to her; he waited on her hand and foot; he studiedall her tastes and remembered everything she told him. Could playingpolo with Winn, going out for walks in the rain, and helping to makesaddles in Winn's musty, smelling den appeal to him with greater forcethan her society? He wasn't in love with any one else, and if menweren't in love with any one else, they were usually in love withEstelle. But with Lionel everything stopped short. They conversedconfidentially, they used each other's Christian names, but she was leftwith the sensation of having come up against an invisible barrier. Therewas no impact, and there was no curtness; there was simply empty space. She was not even sure that Lionel would have liked her at all if shehadn't been Winn's wife. As it was, he certainly wanted her friendshipand took pains to win it. It must be added that he won more than he tookpains to win. Estelle for the first time in her life stumbled waveringlyinto a little love. 

The visit prolonged itself from a week to a fortnight. Estelle did notsleep the night before Lionel went. She tossed feverishly to and fro, planning their parting. Surely he would not leave her without a word?Surely there must be some touch of sentiment to this separation, horrible and inevitable, that lay before them?

She remembered afterwards that as she lay in the dark and foresaw herloneliness she wondered if she wouldn't after all risk the Indianfrontier to be near him? She was subsequently glad she had decided thatshe wouldn't. 

It was a very wet morning, and Lionel was to leave before lunch. Winnwent as usual into his study to play with his eternal experiments inleather. Lionel went with him. She heard the two men laughing togetherdown the passage. Could real friends have laughed if they had mindedparting with each other?

She sat at her desk in the drawing-room biting nervously at her pen. Hewas going; was it possible that there would be no farewell?

Just some terrible flat hand-shake at the door under Winn's penetratingeyes. 

But after a time she heard steps returning. Lionel came by himself. 

"Are you busy?" he asked. "Shall I bother you if we talk a little?"

"No, " she said softly. "I hoped you would come back. "

Lionel did not answer for a moment. For the first time in theiracquaintance he was really a little stirred. He moved about the roomrestlessly, he wouldn't sit down, though half unconsciously she had puther hand on the chair beside her. 

"Do you know, " he said at last, "I've got something to say to you, andI'm awfully afraid it may annoy you. "

Was it really coming, the place at which he would have to be stopped, after all her fruitless endeavors to get him to move in any direction atall? It looked like it; he was very obviously embarrassed and flushed;he did not even try to meet her eyes. 

"The fact is, " he went on, "I simply can't go without saying it, andyou've been so awfully good to me--you've let me feel we're friends. " Hepaused, and Estelle leaned forward, her eyes melting with encouragement. 

"I am so glad you feel like that, Lionel, " she murmured. "Do please sayanything--anything you like. I shall always understand and forgive, ifit is necessary for me to forgive. "

"You're awfully generous, " he said gratefully. She smiled, and put outher hand again toward the chair. This time he sat down in it, but heturned it to face her. 

He was a big man and he seemed to fill the room in which they sat. Hisblue-gray eyes fixed themselves on hers intently, his whole being seemedabsorbed in what he was about to say. 

"You see, " he began, "I think you may be making a big mistake. NaturallyWinn's awfully fond of you and all that and you've just started life, and you like to live in your own country, surrounded by jolly littlethings, and perhaps India seems frightening and far away. " Estelleshrank back a little; he put his hand on the back of her chairsoothingly. "Of course it must be hard, " he said. "Only I want toexplain it to you. Winn's heart is yours, I know, but it's in his work, too, as a man's must be, and his work's out there; it's not here at all. 

"When I came here and looked about me, and saw the house and the gardenand the country, where we've had such jolly walks and talks--it allseemed temporary somehow, made up--not quite natural, I can't explainwhat I mean but not a bit like Winn. I needn't tell you what he is, Idare say you think it's cheek of me to talk about him at all, I canquite understand it if you do, only perhaps there's a side of him I'veseen more of, and which makes me want to say what I know he isn't--whatI don't think even love can make him be--he isn't tame!"

He stopped abruptly; Estelle's eyes had hardened and grown very cold. 

"I don't know what you mean, " she said. "Has he complained of my keepinghim here?"

Lionel pushed back his chair. 

"Ah, Mrs. Winn! Mrs. Winn!" he exclaimed half laughingly, and halfreproachfully; "you know he wouldn't complain. He only told me that hewasn't coming back just yet, and I--well, I thought I saw why hewasn't. "

"Then, " she said, turning careful eyes away from him, "if he hasn'tcomplained, I hardly see why you should attack me like this. I supposeyou think I am as unnatural and--and temporary as our surroundings?"

Lionel stood up and looked down at her in a puzzled way. 

"Oh, I say, you know, " he ventured, "you're not playing very fair, areyou? Of course I'm not attacking you. I thought we were friends, and Iwanted to help you. "

"Friends!" she said. Her voice broke suddenly into a hard little laugh. "Well, what else have you to suggest to me about my husband--out of yourfriendship for me?"

"You're not forgiving me, " he reminded her gently, not dreaming what itwas she had been prepared to forgive. "But perhaps I'd better go on andget it all out while I'm about it. You know it isn't only that I thinkhe won't care for staying on here, but I think it's a bit of a risk. Idon't want to frighten you, but after a man's had black water fevertwice, he's apt to be a little groggy, especially about the lungs. England isn't honestly a very good winter place for him for a year ortwo--"

Estelle flung up her head. 

"If he was going to be an invalid, " she said, "he oughtn't to havemarried me!"

The silence that followed her speech crept into every corner of theroom. Lionel did not look puzzled any more. He stood up very straightand stiff; only his eyes changed. He could not look at her; they werefilled with contempt. He gave her a moment or two to disavow her words;he would have given his right hand to hear her do it. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said at last. "I have overstated the case if youimagine your husband is an invalid. I think, if you don't mind, " headded, "I'll see if my things are ready. "

"Please do, " she said, groping in her mind for something left to hurthim with. "And another time perhaps you will know better than to say formy husband what he is perfectly competent to say for himself. "

"You are quite right, " Lionel said quietly; "another time I shall knowbetter. " The rain against the windows sounded again; she had not heardit before. 

He did not come back to say good-by. She heard him talking to Winn inthe hall, the dogcart drove up, and then she saw him for the last time, his fine, clear-cut profile, his cap dragged over his forehead, his eyeshard, as they were when he had looked at her. He must have known shestood there at the window watching, but he never looked back. She hadexpected a terrible parting, but never a parting as terrible as this. Mercifully she had kept her head; it was all she had kept. 

CHAPTER VII

It was shortly after Lionel's departure that Estelle realized there wasnothing between her and the Indian frontier except the drawing-roomsofa. She fixed herself as firmly on this shelter as a limpet takes holdupon a rock. People were extremely kind and sympathetic, and Winnhimself turned over a new leaf. He was gentle and considerate to her, and offered to read aloud to her in the evenings. 

Nothing shook her out of this condition. The baby arrived, unavailinglyas an incentive to health, and not at all the kind of baby Estelle hadpictured. He was almost from his first moments a thorough Staines. Hewas never very kissable, and was anxious as soon as possible to get onto his own feet. At eight months he crawled rapidly across the carpetwith a large musical-box suspended from his mouth by its handle; at tenhe could walk. He tore all his lawn frocks on Winn's spurs, screamedwith joy at his father's footsteps, and always preferred knees to laps. 

His general attitude towards women was hostility, he looked upon them asunfortunate obstacles in the path of adventure, and howled dismally whenthey caressed him. He had more tolerance for his mother who seemed tohim an object provided by Providence in connection with a sofa, onpurpose for him to climb over. 

Her maternal instinct went so far as to allow him to climb over it twicea day for short intervals. After all he had gained her two years. 

Estelle lay on the sofa one autumn afternoon at four o'clock, with hereyes firmly shut. She was aware that Winn had come in, and was veryinconsiderately tramping to and fro in heavy boots. He seldom enteredthe drawing-room at this hour, and if he did, he went out again as soonas he saw that her eyes were shut. 

Probably he meant to say something horrible about India; she had beenexpecting it for some time. The report on Tibet was finished, and hecould let his staff work go when he liked. 

He stood at the foot of her couch and looked at her curiously. Estellecould feel his eyes on her; she wondered if he noticed how thin shewas, and how transparent her eyelids were. Every fiber in her body wasaware of her desire to impress him with her frailty. She held it beforehim like a banner. 

"Estelle, " he said. When he spoke she winced. 

"Yes, dear, " she murmured hardly above a whisper. 

"Would you mind opening your eyes?" he suggested. "I've got something Iwant to talk over with you, and I really can't talk to a door banged inmy face. "

"I'm so sorry, " she said meekly; "I'm afraid I'm almost too exhausted totalk, but I'll try to listen to what you have to say. "

"Thanks, " said Winn. He paused as if, after all, it wasn't easy tobegin, even in the face of this responsiveness. She thought he lookedrather odd. His eyes had a queer, dazed look, as if he had been drinkingheavily or as if somebody had kicked him. 

"Well, " she asked at last, "what is it you want to talk about? Suspenseof any kind, you know, is very bad for my heart. "

"I beg your pardon, " he said. "It was only that I thought I'd bettermention I am going to Davos. "

"Davos!" She opened her eyes wide now and stared at him. "That snowplace?" she asked, "full of consumptives? What a curious idea! I neverhave been able to understand how people can care to go there for sport. It seems to me rather cruel; but, then, I know I am specially sensitiveabout that kind of thing. Other people's pain weighs so on me. "

"I didn't say I was going there for sport, " Winn answered in the samepeculiar manner. He sat down and began to play with a paper-cutter onhis knee. "As a matter of fact, I'm not, " he went on. "I've crocked oneof my lungs. They seem to think I've got to go. It's a great nuisance. "

It was curious the way he kept looking at her, as if he expectedsomething. He couldn't have told exactly what he expected himself. Hewas face to face with a new situation; he wasn't exactly frightened, buthe had a feeling that he would like very much to know how he ought tomeet it. He had often been close to death--but he had never somehowthought of dying, he wasn't close to death now but at the end ofsomething which might be very horrible there would be the long affair ofdying. He hoped he would get through it all right and not make a fuss orbe a bother to anybody. It had all come with a curious suddenness. Hehad gone to Travers one day because when Polly pulled he had an odd painin his chest. He had had a toss the week before, and it had occurred tohim that a rib might be broken; but Travers said it wasn't that. 

Travers had tapped him all over and looked grave, uncommonly grave, andsaid some very uncomfortable things. He had insisted on dragging Winn upto town to see a big man, and the big man had said, "Davos, and don'tlose any time about it. " He hadn't said much else, only when Winn hadremarked, "But, damn it all, you know I'm as strong as a horse, " he hadanswered, "You'll need every bit of strength you've got, " and all theway home Travers had talked to him like a Dutch uncle. 

It was really funny when you came to think of it, because there wasn'tanything to see or even feel--except a little cough--and getting ratherhot in the evenings, but after Travers had finished pitching into himWinn had written to Lionel and made his will and had rather wonderedwhat Estelle would feel about it. He hadn't wanted to upset her. Hehadn't upset her. She stared at him for a moment; then she said:

"How odd! You look perfectly all right. I never have believed inTravers. "

Winn mentioned the name of the big man. 

"It does sound rather rot, " he added apologetically. He still waited. Estelle moved restlessly on the sofa. 

"Well, " she said, "what on earth am I to do? It's really horriblyinconvenient. I suppose I shall have to go back to my people for thewinter unless you can afford to let me take a flat in London. "

"I'm afraid I can't afford that, " said Winn. "I think it would be bestfor you to go to your people for the winter, unless, of course, you'drather go to mine. I'm going down there to-morrow; I've written to tellthem. I must get my father to let me have some money as it is. It'sreally an infernal nuisance from the expense point of view. "

"I couldn't go to your people, " said Estelle, stiffly. "They have neverbeen nice to me; besides, they would be sure to teach baby how toswear. " Then she added, "I suppose this puts an end to your going toIndia. "

Winn dropped his eyes. 

"Yes, " he said, "this puts an end to my going back to India for thepresent. I've been up before the board; they're quite agreeable. Infact, they've been rather decent to me. "

Estelle gave a long sigh of relief and gratitude. It was reallyextraordinary how she had been helped to avoid India. She couldn't thinkwhat made Winn go on sitting there, just playing with the paper-knife. 

He sat there for a long time, but he didn't say any more. At last he gotup and went to the door. 

"Well, " he said, "I think I'll just run up and have a look at the kid. "

"Poor dear, " said Estelle, "I'm frightfully sorry for you, of course, though I don't believe it's at all painful--and by the way, Winn, don'tforget that consumption is infectious. "

He stopped short as if someone had struck him. After all, he didn't goto the nursery; she heard him go down the passage to the smoking-roominstead. 

CHAPTER VIII

Sir Peter was having his annual attack of gout. Staines Court appearedat these times like a ship battened down and running before a storm. 

Figures of pale and frightened maids flickered through the longpassage-ways. The portly butler violently ejected from the dining-roomhad been seen passing swiftly through the hall, with the ungainlymovement of a prehistoric animal startled from its lair. 

The room in which Sir Peter sat burned with his language. Eddies ofblasphemous sound rushed out and buffeted the landings like a risinggale. 

Sir Peter sat in a big arm chair in the center of the room. His figuregave the impression of a fortressed island in the middle of an emptysea. His foot was rolled in bandages and placed on a low stool beforehim; within reach of his hand was a knobbed blackthorn stick, a belland a copy of the "Times" newspaper. 

Fortunately Lady Staines was impervious to sound and acclimatized tofury. When Sir Peter was well she frequently raised storms, but when hehad gout she let him raise them for himself. He was raising one now onthe subject of Winn's letter. 

"What's that he says? What's that he says?" roared Sir Peter. "Somethingthe matter with his lungs! That's the first time a Staines has everspoken of his lungs. The boy's mad. I don't admit it! I don't believeit for a moment, all a damned piece of doctors' rubbish, the chap'sa fool to listen to 'em! When has he ever seen me catering tohearse-conducting, pocket-filling asses!"

Charles was home on a twenty-four hours' leave--he stood by themantelpiece and regarded his parent with undutiful and critical eyes. "Ishould say you send for 'em, " he observed, "whenever you've got a pain;why they're always hangin' about. Look at that table chock full ofmedicines. 'Nuff to kill a horse--where do they come from?"

"Hold your infernal tongue, Sir!" shouted Sir Peter. "What do I have'em for? I have 'em here to expose them! That's why--I just let them tryit on, and then hold them up to ridicule! Do you find I ever pay theleast attention to 'em, Sarah?" he demanded from his wife. 

"Not as a rule, " Lady Staines admitted, "unless you're very bad indeed, and then you do as you like directly the pain has stopped. "

"Well, why shouldn't I!" said Sir Peter triumphantly. "Once I get rid ofthe pain I can do as I like. When I've got red hot needles eating intomy toes, am I likely to like anything? Of course not, you may just aswell take medicine then as anything else, but as to taking orders from apack of ill-bred bumpkins, full of witch magic as a dog of fleas, I seemyself! Don't stand grinning there, Charles, like a dirty, shock-headedbarmaid's dropped hair pin! I won't stand it! I can't see why all mysons should have thin legs, neither you nor I, Sarah, ever went aboutlike a couple of spilikin's. I call it indecent! Why don't you getsomething inside 'em, Charles, eh? No stamina, that's what it is!Everybody going to the dogs in motor cars with manicure girls out oftheir parents' pockets--! Why don't you answer me, Charles, when I speakto you?"

"Nobody can answer you when you keep roaring like a deuced megaphone, "said Charles wearily. "Let's hear what the chap's got to say forhimself, Mater. "

Lady Staines read Winn's letter out loud in a dry voice withoutexpression; it might have been an account of a new lawn mower which sheheld beneath it. 

 "I've managed to crock one of my lungs somehow, but they say I've got a chance if I go straight out to Davos for six months. Ask the guv'nor if he'll let me have some money. I shall want it badly. My wife and the kid will go to her people. You might run across and have a look at him sometimes. He's rather a jolly little chap. I shall come down for the week-end to-morrow unless I hear from you to the contrary. 

 "Your affectionate son, "WINN. "

"I think that's all, " said his mother. 

"What!" shouted Sir Peter. He had never shouted quite like this before. Charles groaned and buried his head in his hands. Even Lady Staineslooked up from the lawn mower's letter, which she had placed on the topof Winn's; the medicine bottles sprang from the table and fell backagain sufficiently shaken for the next dose. 

"Do you mean to tell me!" cried Sir Peter in a quieter voice, "that thatlittle piece of dandelion fluff--that baggage--that city fellow's halfbaked, peeled onion of a minx is going to desert her husband? That'swhat I call it--desertion! What does she want to go back to her peoplefor? She must go with him! She must go to Davos! She shall go to Davos!if I have to take her there by the hair! I never heard of anything sooutrageous in my life! What becomes of domesticity? where's family life?That's what I want to know! and is Winn such a milk and water noodlethat he's going to sit down under it and say 'Thank you!' Not that Ithink he needs to go to Davos for a moment, mind you. Let him come hereand have a nice quiet time with me, that's what he wants. "

"That's all very well, Father, " said Charles. "But what you mean is youdon't want to fork out! If the chap's told to go to Davos, he's got togo to Davos, and it's his own look-out whether he takes his wife withhim or not. Consumption isn't a joke, and I tell you plainly that if youdon't help him when he's got a chance, you needn't expect _me_ to cometo the funeral. No flowers and coffins and beloved sons on tombstones, are going to make me move an inch. It'll be just the same to me as ifyou'd shoved him under with your own hand, and that's all I've got tosay, and it's no use blowing the roof off about it!"

"You'd better go now, Charles, " said Lady Staines quietly. 

When Sir Peter had finished saying what he thought of Charles and whathe intended to do to the entail, Lady Staines gave him his medicine. 

"Look here, Peter, " she said, "this is a bad business about our boy. "

Sir Peter met her eyes and nodded. 

"Yes, " he agreed, "a damned bad business!"

"We'd better get him off, " she added after a moment's pause. 

"It's all nonsense, " grumbled Sir Peter, "and I told you from the firstyou ought never to have let him marry that girl. Her father's thepoorest tenant I ever had, soft-headed, London vermin! He doesn't knowanything about manure--and he'll never learn. I shall cut down all histrees as soon as I'm about again. As for the girl, keep her out of mysight or I'll wring her neck. I ought to have done it long ago. How muchdoes he want?"

"Let's make it three hundred, " Lady Staines said. "He may as well becomfortable. "

"Pouring money into a sieve, " grumbled Sir Peter. "Send for the doctorand bring me the medical dictionary. I may as well see what it saysabout consumption, and don't mention the word when Winn's about. I_will_ have tact! If you'd used common or garden tact in this housebefore, that marriage would never have taken place. I sit here simmeringwith it day in and day out and everybody else goes about giving thewhole show away! If it hadn't been for my tact Charles would havemarried that manicure girl years ago. Bring me my check-book. It'snothing but a school-boy's lark, this going to Davos. Why consumption'sa pin-prick compared to gout! No pain--use of both legs--sanguinedisposition. Where the hell's that medical dictionary? Ah, it's there, is it--then why the devil didn't you give it me before?"

Sir Peter read solemnly for a few minutes, and then flung the book onthe floor. 

"Bosh!" he cried angrily. "All old woman's nonsense. Can't tell what'sgoing on inside a pair of bellows--can they? Then why make condemnedasses of themselves, and say they can! Don't tell Charles I've writtenthis check--he's the most uncivil rascal we've got. "

CHAPTER IX

It was odd how Winn looked forward to seeing Staines; he couldn'tremember ever having paid much attention to the scenery before; he hadalways liked the bare backs of the downs behind the house where he usedto exercise the horses, and the turf was short and smelt of thyme; andof course the shooting was good and the house stood well; but he hadn'tthought about it till now, any more than he thought about his braces. 

He decided to walk up from the station. There was a short cut throughthe fields and then you came on the Court suddenly, over-looking a sheetof water. 

It was a still November day, colorless and sodden. The big elms were asdark as wet haystacks and the woods huddled dispiritedly in a vaguemist. 

The trees broke to the right of the Court and the house rose up like agigantic silver ghost. 

It was a battered old Tudor building with an air of not having beenproperly cleaned; blackened and weather-soaked, unconscionably aversefrom change, it had held its own for four hundred years. 

The stones looked as if they were made out of old moonlight and thinDecember sunshine. A copse of small golden trees, aspen and silverbirches made a pale screen of light beside the house and at its feet, the white water stretched like a gleaming eye. 

There wasn't a tree Winn hadn't climbed or an inch he hadn't explored, fought over and played on. He wanted quite horribly to come back to itagain, it was as if there were roots from the very soil in him tuggingat his menaced life. 

His mother advanced across the lawn to meet him. She wore a very oldblue serge dress and a black and white check cap which looked as if ithad been discarded by a jockey. 

In one hand she held a trowel and in the other a parcel of spring bulbs. She gave Winn the side of her hard brown cheek to kiss and remarked, "You've just come in time to help me with these bulbs. Every one ofthem must be got in this afternoon. Philip has left us--your fatherthrew a watering can at him. I can't think what's happened to the mennowadays, they don't seem to be able to stand anything, and I've sentDavis into the village to buy ducks. He ought to have been back long agoif it was only ducks, but probably it's a girl at the mill as well. "

Winn looked at the bulbs with deep distaste. "Hang it all, Mother, " heobjected, "it's such a messy day for planting bulbs!" "Nonsense, " saidLady Staines firmly, "I presume you wash your hands before dinner, don'tyou, you can get the dirt off then? It's a perfect day for bulbs asyou'd know if you had the ghost of country sense in you. There's anothertrowel in the small greenhouse, get it and begin. " Winn strode off tothe greenhouse smiling; he had had an instinctive desire to get home, hewanted hard sharp talk that he could answer as if it were a Punch andJudy show. 

In his married life he had had to put aside the free expression of histhoughts; you couldn't hit out all round if the other person wouldn'thit back and started whining. Every member of the Staines family hadbeen brought up on the tradition of combative speech, the bleakest ofpersonalities found its nest there. Sometimes, of course, you got toomuch of it. Sir Peter and Charles were noisy and James and Dolores wereapt to be brutally rough. They were all vehement but there weredifferent shades in their ability. Winn got through the joints in theirarmor as easily as milk slips into a glass. It was Lady Staines and Winnwho were the deadly fighters. 

They fought the others with careless ease, but they fought each otherwatchfully with fixed eyes and ready implacable brains. 

It was difficult to say what they fought for but it was a magnificentspectacle to see them fight, and they had for each other a regard which, if it was never tender, had every element of respect. 

They worked now for some time in silence. Suddenly Lady Staines cocked awintry blue eye in her son's direction and remarked, "Why ain't yourwife going with you to Davos?" Winn hurled a bulb into the small holeprepared for it before answering, then he said:

"She's too delicate to stand the cold. "

"Is there anything the matter with her?" asked his mother. 

Winn preferred to consider this question in the light of rhetoric andmade no reply. He wasn't going to give Estelle away by saying there wasnothing the matter with her, and on the other hand a lie would have beenpounced upon and torn to pieces. "Marriage don't seem to have agreedwith either of you particularly well, " observed Lady Staines with a grimsmile. 

"We haven't got your constitution, " replied her son. "If either you orFather had married any one else--they'd have been dead within sixmonths. "

"Humph!" said his mother. "That only shows our sound judgment; we tookwhat we could stomach! It's her look-out of course, but I suppose sheknows she's running you into the Divorce Court, letting you go out thereby yourself? All those snow places bristle with grass widows and girlswho have outstayed their market and have to get a hustle on! Sending aman out there alone is like driving a new-born lamb into a pack ofwolves!" Lady Staines with her eye on the heavily built and ratherleathery lamb beside her gave a sardonic chuckle. Winn ignored herillustration. 

"You needn't be afraid, " he replied. "I'm done with women; they tempt meabout as much as stale sponge cakes. "

"Ah!" said his mother, "I've heard that tale before. A man who says he'sdone with women simply means one of them's done with him. Besides, you're to be an invalid, I understand! An invalid man is as exposed towomen as a young chicken to rats. You won't stand a ghost of a chance. Look at your father, if I left him alone when he was having an attack ofgout with a gray-haired matron of a reformatory, he'd be on his knees toher before I could get back. "

"You can take it from me, " said Winn, "that even if I _should_ need sucha thing as a petticoat, I'd try a kind that won't affect marriage. I'llnever look at another good woman again--the other sort will do for me ifI can't stick it without. "

"Don't racket too much, " said Lady Staines, planting her last bulb withscientific skill. "They say keeping women's very expensive up there--onaccount of the Russian Princes. "

"By the by, " said Winn, "thanks for the money. Had any difficulty inextracting it?"

"Not much, " said Lady Staines, withdrawing to the lawn. "Charles gotrather in the way. "

"Silly ass, " observed Winn. "Didn't want me to have it, I suppose?"

"No, he did want you to have it, " replied Lady Staines, "but he needn'thave been such a fool as to have said so. It nearly upset everything. His idea was, you see, that if his father gave you something--he andJames would have to be bought off. So they were in the end, but they'dhave had more if he'd played his hand better. "

Winn laughed. "Jolly to be home again, " he remarked. "Dinner as usual?"

"Yes, " said Lady Staines, "and don't forget one of the footmen's aPlymouth Brother and mustn't be shocked. It's so difficult to get anyone nowadays, one mustn't be too particular. He said he could stand yourfather by constant prayer, but he gave notice over Charles. Charlesought to have waited till dessert to let himself go. "

The dinner passed off well. Sir Peter and Winn had one never failingbone of contention, the rival merits of the sister services. Sir Peterexpressed on every possible occasion in his son's presence, a bittercontempt for the army, and Winn never let an opportunity pass withoutpointing out the gorged and pampered state of the British Navy. 

"If we'd had half the money spent on us, Sir, that you keep guzzlingover, " Winn cheerfully threw out, "we could knock spots out of Europe. The trouble with England is--she treats her sailors as if they were theproud sisters--and we are shoved out like Cinderella into the sculleryto do all the dirty work. "

"Pooh!" said Sir Peter, "work! Is that what you call it--takin' a horseout for an hour or two, and shoutin' at a few men on a parade ground. What's an army good for--even when it's big enough to be seen with thenaked eye and capable of attacking a few black savages with theirantiquated weapons. Why you're _safe_, that's what you are--dead safe!Land's beneath you--immovable--you can get anywhere you want to as easyas sliding down banisters! Targets keep still too! It's nothing to hit athing you can stand to fire at while _it_ stands still to _be_ fired at!Child's play, that's what it is. Look at us, something up all the time, peace or war. We've got the sea to fight--wind too--and thick weather. We've got our pace to mind and if we ever did clinch up we'd have to doour fighting at a rate that'd make an express train giddy--and runningafter a target goin' as hard as we do! That's what I call something of aservice. No! No! The Army's played out. You're for ornament now, meantto go round Buckingham Palace and talk to nurse-maids in the Park. "

"Not many nurse-maids in the Kyber Pass, " his son observed. 

"Frontiers--yes, I dare say, " snorted Sir Peter. "A few black rag dollsbehind trees popping at you to keep your circulation going, and you withMaxims and all, going picnics in the hills and burning down villages aseasy as pulling fire-crackers--and half the time you want help from us!Look at South Africa!"

They looked at South Africa for some time till the dessert came and thePlymouth Brother thankfully withdrew. After that Winn allowed himselfsome margin and Lady Staines leaned back in her chair, ate grapes andenjoyed her coffee. 

The conversation became pungent, savage and enlivened on Sir Peter'spart by strange oaths. 

Winn kept to sudden thrusts of irony impossible to foresee and difficultto parry. 

They drank velvety ripe old port. Sir Peter was for the moment out ofpain and anxious to assert his freedom from doctors. The conversationshifted to submarines. Sir Peter thought them an underhand and decadentdevelopment suited to James, who was in command of one of them. 

As to aëroplanes he said that as we'd now succeeded in imitatinginfernal birds and fishes--he supposed we'd soon bring off reptiles thekind of creature the modern young would be likely to represent best. 

"We shall soon have the police crawling on their bellies up and down theStrand hiding behind lamp-posts, " finished Sir Peter. "Call that kind ofthing science! It's an inverted Noah's Ark! That's what it is! And whenyou get it all going to suit yourself, there'll be another flood, andserve you all damned well right. I shall enjoy seeing you drown!"

Winn replied that you had to fight with your head now and that peoplewho fought with their fists were about as dangerous as stuffed rabbits. 

Sir Peter replied that in the end everything came down to blood, howmuch you'd got yourself and how much you could get out of the enemy. 

Lady Staines was slightly afraid of leaving them in this atmosphere, butat last she reluctantly withdrew to the hall, where she listened to thevarying shades of Sir Peter's voice and decided they were on the wholeloud enough to be normal. 

At eleven o'clock she and Winn between them assisted Sir Peter to bed. 

This was a sharp and fiery passage usually undertaken by the toughest ofthe gardeners. 

Winn however managed extraordinarily well. He insisted on occasionalpauses and by a home truth of an appallingly personal nature actuallysilenced his father for the last half flight. 

Sir Peter breakfasted in his room. 

He had had a bad night. He wouldn't, as he explained to his wife, haveminded if Winn had been a puny chap; but there he was, sound and strong, with clear hard eyes, broad, straight shoulders and a grip of iron, andyet Taylor, that little village hound of an apothecary, said once youhad microbes it didn't matter how strong you were--they were just aslikely to be fatal as if you were a narrow-chested epileptic. 

Microbes! The very thought of such small insignificant creatures gettingin his way filled Sir Peter with fury. He had always hated insects. Butthe worst of it was in the morning he didn't feel angry, he simply feltchilled and helpless. His son was hit and he couldn't help him. It allcame back to that. There was only one person who could help a sick man, and that person was his wife. Theoretically Sir Peter despised and hatedwomen, but practically he leaned on his wife as only a strong man canlean on a woman; without her, he literally would not have known whichway to turn. His trust in her was as solid as his love for a good stoutship. In every crisis of his life she had stood by his side, bittertongued, hard-headed, undemonstrative and his as much as any ship thathad sailed under his flag. 

If she had failed him he would have gone down, and now here was hisson's wife--another woman--presumably formed for the same purpose, leaking away from under him at the very first sign of weather. 

He thought of Estelle with a staggered horror; she had looked soft andsweet--just the woman to minister to a knocked-out man. The trouble withher was she had no guts. 

Sir Peter woke his wife up at four o'clock in the morning to shout thisfact into her ear. Lady Staines said, "Well--whoever said she had?" andapparently went to sleep again. But Sir Peter didn't go to sleep:Estelle reminded him of how he had once been done over a mare, abeautiful, fine stepping lady-like creature who looked as if she weremade of velvet and steel, no vice in her and every point correct; andthen what had happened? He'd bought her and she'd developed a spiritlike wet cotton wool, no pace, no staying power. She'd sweat and stumbleafter a few minutes run, no amount of dieting, humoring or whippingaffected her. She'd set out to shirk, and shirk she did--till he workedher off on a damned fool Dolores had fortunately introduced him to--onlywives can't be handed on like mares--"Devil's the pity"--Sir Peter saidto himself, as he fell off to sleep. "Works perfectly with horses. "

Winn came up-stairs soon after breakfast a little set and silent, to saygood-by to his father. Sir Peter had thrown his breakfast out of thewindow and congealed the Plymouth Brother's morning prayers. He wantedto get hold of something tangible to move circumstances and cheat fate, but he couldn't think what you did do, when it wasn't a question ofstorms or guns--or a man you could knock down for insubordination, simply a physical fact. 

He scowled gloomily at his son's approach. "I wish you weren't such adamned fool, " he observed by way of greeting. "Why can't you shake alittle sense into your wife? What's marriage for? I've been talking toyour mother about it. I don't say she isn't a confoundedly aggravatingwoman, your mother! But she's always stuck to me, hasn't let me down, you know. A wife ain't meant to do that. It's unnatural! Why can't yousay to her, 'You come with me or I'll damned well show you the reasonwhy--' That's the line to take!"

"A woman you've got to say that to isn't going to make much of acompanion, " Winn said quietly. "I'd rather she stayed where she liked. "

Sir Peter was silent for a moment, then he said, "Any more childrencoming?"

"No, " said his son, "nor likely to be either, as far as I'm concerned. "

"There you are!" said Sir Peter. "Finicky and immoral, that's what Icall it! That's the way trouble begins, the more children the lessnonsense. Why don't you have more children instead of sitting sneeringat me like an Egyptian Pyramid?"

"That's my look-out, " said Winn with aggravating composure. "When I want'em, I'll have 'em. Don't you worry, Father. "

"That's all devilish well!" said Sir Peter crossly. "But I _shall_worry! Do I know more about the world or do you? Not that I want toquarrel with you, my dear boy, " he added hastily. "I admit things areawkward for you--damned awkward--still it's no use sitting down underthem when you might have a row and clear the air, is it? What I want tosay is--why not have a row?"

"You can't have a row with a piece of pink silk, can you?" his sondemanded. "I don't want to blame her, but it's no use counting her in;besides, honestly, Father, I don't care a rap--why should I expect herto? My marriage was a misdeal. "

Sir Peter shook his head. "Men ought to love their wives, " he saidsolemnly; "in a sense, of course, no fuss about it, and never lettingthem know--and not putting oneself out about it! But still there oughtto be something to hold on to, and anyhow the more you stick together, the more there is, and your going off like this won't improve matters. Love or no love, marriage is a life. "

Winn laughed again. "Life--" he said, "yes--well--how do I know how muchlonger I shall have to bother about life?"

There was a silence. Sir Peter's gnarled old hands met above hisblackthorn stick and trembled. 

Winn wished he hadn't spoken. He did not know how to tell his father notto mind. He hadn't really thought his father would mind. 

However, there they sat, minding it. 

Then Sir Peter said, "I don't believe in consumption, I never have, andI never shall; besides Taylor says Davos is a very good place for it, and you're an early case, and it's all damned nonsense, and you've gotto buck up and think no more about it. What I want to hear is thatyou're back in your Regiment again. I dare say there'll be trouble lateron, and then where'll you be if you're an invalid--have you ever thoughtof that?"

"Yes--that'd be something to live for, " Winn said gravely; "trouble. "

"You shouldn't be so confoundedly particular, " said his father. "Nowlook at me--if we did have trouble where'd I be? Nowhere at all--old!Just gout and newspapers and sons getting up ideas about their lungs, but when do I complain?

"If you want another £50 any time--I don't say that I can't give it toyou--though the whole thing's damned unremunerative! There's the trap. Well--good-by. "

Winn stood quite still for a moment looking at his father. It might havebeen thought by an observer that his eyes, which were remarkablybright, were offensively critical, but Sir Peter, though he wished thelast moment to end, knew that his son was not being critical. 

Then Winn said, "Well--good-by, Father. I'm sure I'm much obliged toyou. " And his father said, "Damn everything!" just after the door wasshut. 

CHAPTER X

It hadn't seemed dismal at first, it had only seemed quite unnatural. Everything had stopped being natural when the small creature in lawn, only the height of his knee, had been torn reluctantly away from itshold on his trousers. This parting had made Winn feel as if somethinginside him was being unfairly handled. 

There was nothing he could get hold of in Peter to promise security, andthe only thing that Peter could grasp was the trousers, which had had tobe forcibly removed from him. 

Later on Peter would be consoled by a Teddy Bear or the hearth brush, but Winn had had to go before Peter was consoled, and without theresources of the hearth brush. 

Estelle wept bitterly in the hall, but Winn hadn't minded that; he hadlong ago come to the conclusion that Estelle had a taste for tears, justas some people liked boiled eggs for breakfast. He simply patted her onthe shoulder and looked away from her while she kissed him. 

He had enjoyed starting from Charing Cross, intimidating the porters andgiving the man who registered his luggage dispassionate and unfavorablepieces of his mind. But when he was once fairly off he began to have anew feeling. It came over him when he was out of England and had crossedthe small gray strip of formless familiar sea--the sea itself alwaysseemed to Winn to belong much more to England than to France--so much sothat it annoyed him at Boulogne to have to submit to being thoughtpossibly unblasphemous by porters. He began to feel alone. Up till nowhe had always seen his way. There had been fellows to do things with andanimals; even marriage, though disconcerting, had not set him adrift. Hehad been cramped by it, but not disintegrated. Now what seemed to havehappened was that he had been cut loose. There wasn't the regiment oreven a staff college to fall back upon. There wasn't a trail to followor horses to gentle; his very dog had had to be left behind because ofthe ridiculous restrictions of canine quarantine. 

It really was an extraordinarily uncomfortable feeling, as if he were adamned ghost poking about in a new world full of surprises. It was quitepossible that he might find himself among bounders. He had alwaysavoided bounders, but that had been comparatively easy in a world whereeverybody observed an unspoken, inviolable code. If people didn't knowthe ropes, they found it simpler to go, and Winn had sometimes assistedthem to find it simpler; but he saw that now bounders could really turnup with impunity, for, as far as ropes went, it was he himself who wouldbe in the minority. He might meet men who talked, long-haired, mysterious chaps too soft to kick or radicals, though if the worst cameto the worst, he flattered himself that he had always the resource ofbeing unpleasant. 

He knew that when the hair rose up on his head like the back of achallenged bull-dog, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked atpeople rather straight between the eyes, they usually shut up. 

He didn't mind doing this of course, if necessary; only if he had to doit to everybody in the hotel it might become monotonous, and he had anervous fear that consumption was rather a cad's disease. 

Fortunately he had got his skates, and he supposed there'd be toboggansand skis. He would see everybody in hell before he would share a table. 

It was curious how one could get to thirty-six and then suddenly in themiddle of nothing start up a whole new set of feelings--feelings aboutPeter, who had, after all, only just happened, and yet seemed to havebelonged to him always; and his lungs going wrong, and loneliness, likea homesick school-girl! Winn had never felt lonely in Central Africa orTibet, so that it seemed rather absurd to start such an emotion in arailway train surrounded by English people, particularly as it hadnothing to do with what he looked upon as his home. His feeling aboutleaving the house at Aldershot had been, "Thank God there aren't goingto be any more dinners!"

Still, there it was. He did feel lonely; probably it was one of thesymptoms of bad lungs which Travers hadn't mentioned, the same kind ofthing as the perfectly new desire to lean back in his corner and shuthis eyes. 

He felt all right in a way, his muscles acted, he could easily havethrown a stout young man with white eyelashes passing along the corridorthrough the nearest window; but there was a blurred sensation behindeverything, a tiresome, unaccountable feeling as if he mightn't alwaysbe able to do things. He couldn't explain it exactly; but if it reallyturned up at all formidably later, he intended to shoot himself quicklybefore Peter got old enough to care. 

One thing he had quite made up his mind about: he would get well if hecould, but if he couldn't, he wasn't going to be looked after. The merethought of it drove him into the corridor, where he spent the nightalternately walking up and down and sitting on an extremelyuncomfortable small seat by a draughty door to prove to himself that hewasn't in the least tired. 

He began to feel rather better after the coffee at Basle, and though hewas hardly the kind of person to take much interest in mere scenery, thesmall Swiss villages, with their high pink or blue clock-faced churchesmade him wish he could pack them into a box, with a slice of greenmountain behind, and send them to Peter to play with. 

After Landeck he smelt the snows, and challenged successfully the wholeshivering carriage on the subject of an open window. The snows remindedWinn in a jolly way of Kashmir and nights spent alone on dizzy heightsin a Dak bungalow. 

The valleys ceased slowly to breathe, the dull autumn coloring sank intothe whiteness of a dream. The mountains rose up on all sides, wave uponwave of frozen foam, aiming steadily at the high, clear skies. Thehalf-light of the failing day covered the earth with a veil of silverand retreating gold. 

The valleys passed into silence, freezing, whispering silence. The moonrose mysteriously behind a line of black fir-trees, sending shafts ofblue light into the hollow cup of mountain gorges. It was a poet'sworld, Blake or Shelley could have made it, it was too cold for Keats. Winn had not read these poets. It reminded him of a particularly goodchamois hunt, in which he had bagged a splendid fellow, after fourhours' hard climbing and stalking. The mountains receded a little, andeverything became part of a white hollow filled with black fir-trees, and beyond the fir-trees a blue lake as blue as an Indian moonstone, andthen one by one, with the unexpectedness of a flight of glow-worms, sparkled the serried ranks of the hotels. Out they flashed, breaking upthe mystery, defying the mountains, as insistent and strident as life. 

The train stopped, and its contents spilled themselves out a littleuncertainly and stiffly on the platform. Instantly the cold caught them, not the insidious, subtle cold of lower worlds, but the fresh, bruskbuffet of the Alps. It caught them by the throat and chest, it tingledin ears and noses; there was no menace in it, and no weakness. It was ascompulsory as a policeman in a street fight. 

Winn had just stepped aside to allow a clamorous lady to take possessionof his porter when he saw a man struggle into the light under alamp-post; he was carrying something very carefully in his arms. 

Winn could not immediately make out what it was, but he saw the man'sface and read utmost mortal misery in his eyes; then he discovered thatthe burden was a woman. Her hands were so thin that they lay likebroken flower petals on the man's shoulders; her face was nothing but ahollow shell; her eyes moved, so that Winn knew she was alive, and inthe glassy stillness of the air he caught her dry whispering voice, "Iam not really tired, dearest, " she murmured. In a moment they hadvanished. It struck Winn as very curious that people could love eachother like that, or that a dying woman should fight her husband's fearswith her last strength. He felt horribly sorry for them and impatientwith himself for feeling sorry. After all, he had not come up to Davosto go about all over the place feeling sorry for strange people to whomhe had never been introduced. The funny part of it was that he didn'tonly feel sorry for them, he felt a little sorry for himself. Was lovereally like that? And had he missed it? Well, of course he knew he hadmissed it, only he hadn't realized that it was quite like that. 

Fortunately at this moment a German porter appeared to whom Winn felt aninstant simple antagonism. He was a self-complacent man, and he broughtWinn the wrong luggage. 

"Look here, my man, " Winn said smoothly, but with a rocky insistencebehind his words, "if you don't look a little sharp and bring me the_right_ boxes with green labels, I shall have to kick you into themiddle of next week. "

This restored Winn even more quickly than it restored his luggage. Noone followed him into the small stuffy omnibus which glided off swiftlytoward its destination. The hotel was an ugly wooden house in the shapeof a hive built out with balconies; it reminded Winn of a giganticbird-cage handsomely provided with perches. It was only ten o'clock, butthe house was as silent as the mountains behind it. 

The landlord appeared, and, leading Winn into a brilliantly lighted, empty room, offered him cold meat. 

Winn said the kind of thing that any Staines would feel called upon tosay on arriving at a cold place at a late hour and being confronted withcold meat. 

The landlord apologized in a whisper, and returned after some delay withsoup. Nothing, not even more language, could move him beyond soup. Hekept saying that it was late and that they must be quiet, and he didn'tseem to believe Winn when Winn remarked that he hadn't come up there tobe quiet. Winn himself became quieter as he followed the landlordthrough interminable passages covered with linoleum where his boots madea noise like muffled thunder. 

Everywhere there was a strange sense of absolute cleanliness andsilence, the subduing smell of disinfectant and the sight of padded, green felt doors. 

When Winn was left alone in a room like a vivid cell, all emptiness andelectric light, and with another green door leading into a farther room, he became aware of a very faint sound that came from the other side ofthe door. It was like the bark of a dog shut up in a distant cellar; itexplained the padding of the doors. 

In all the months that followed, Winn never lost this sound, near orfar; it was always with him, seldom shattering and harsh, but alwayssounding as if something were being broken gradually, little by little, shaken into pieces by some invisible disintegrating power. 

Winn flung open the long window which faced the bed. It led out to asmall private balcony--if he had to be out on a balcony, he had ofcourse made a point of its being private--and looked over all Davos. 

The lights were nearly gone now. Only two or three twinkled in a narrowcircle on a sheet of snow; behind them the vague shapes of the mountainshung immeasurably alien and at peace. 

A bell rang out through the still air with a deep, reverberating note. It was a reassuring and yet solemn sound, as if it alone wereresponsible for humanity, for all the souls crowded together in the tinyvalley, striving for their separate, shaken, inconclusive lives. 

"An odd place--Davos, " Winn thought to himself. "No idea it was likethis. Sort of mix up between a picnic and a cemetery!"

And then suddenly somebody laughed. The sound came from a slope ofmountain behind the hotel, and through the dark Winn's quick ear caughtthe sound of a light rushing across the snow. Some one must betobogganing out there, some one very young and gay and incorrigiblycertain of joy. Winn hoped he should hear Peter laughing like that lateron. It was such a jolly boy's laugh, low, with a mischievous chuckle init, elated, and very disarming. 

He hoped the child wouldn't get hauled up for being out so late andmaking a noise. He smiled as he thought that the owner of the voice, even if collared, would probably be up to getting out of his trouble;and when he turned in, he was still smiling. 

CHAPTER XI

Dr. Gurnet's house was like an eye, or a pair of super-vigilant eyes, stationed between Davos Dorf and Davos Platz. 

It stood, a small brown chalet, perched high above the lake. There wasnothing on either side of it but the snows, the sunshine, and the senseof its vigilance; inside, from floor to ceiling, there were neat littlecases with the number of the year, and in each year there was acomplete, exhaustive, and entertaining history of those who wintered, unaware of its completion and entertainment, in either of the villages. No eye but his own saw these documents, but no secret policeman ever socontrolled the inner workings of a culprit's mind. There was nothing inDr. Gurnet himself that led one to believe in his piercing quality. Hewas a stout little man, with a high-domed, bald head, long arms, shortlegs, and whitish blue eyes which had the quality of taking ineverything they saw without giving anything out. 

Sometimes they twinkled, but the twinkle was in most cases for his ownconsumption; he disinfected even his jokes so that they were nevercatching. The consulting-room contained no medical books. There were twobook-shelves, on one side psychology from the physical point of view, and in the other bookcase, psychology as understood by the leadinglights of the Catholic religion. 

Dr. Gurnet was fond of explaining to his more intelligent patients thathere you had the two points of view. 

"Psychology is like alcohol, " he observed; "you may have it withsoda-water or without. Religion is the soda-water. "

Two tiger skins lay on the floor. Dr. Gurnet was a most excellent shot. He was too curious for fear, though he always asserted that he dislikeddanger, and took every precaution to avoid it, excepting, of course, giving up the thing which he had set out to do. But it was a fact thathis favorites among his patients were, as a rule, those who loved dangerfor its own sake without curiosity and without fear. 

He saw at a glance that Winn belonged to this category. Names were likepocket electric lamps to Dr. Gurnet. He switched them on and off toilluminate the dark places of the earth. He held Winn's card in his handand recalled that he had known a former colonel of his regiment. 

"A very distinguished officer, " he remarked, "of a very distinguishedregiment. Probably perfectly unknown in England. England has apreference for worthless men while they live and a tenderness for themafter they are dead unless corrected by other nations. It is an oddthing to me that men like Colonel Travers and yourself, for instance, care to give up your lives to an empire that is like a badly derangedstomach with a craving for unhealthy objects. "

"We haven't got to think about it, " said Winn. "We keep the corner weare in quiet. "

"Yes, " said Dr. Gurnet sympathetically, "I know; but I think it would bebetter if you had to think about it. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary tokeep things quiet if they were more thoroughly exposed to thought. "

Winn's attention wandered to the tiger skins. 

"Did you bag those fellows yourself?" he asked. Dr. Gurnet smilinglyagreed. After this Winn didn't so much mind having his chest examined. 

But the examination of his chest, though a long and singularly thoroughoperation, seemed to Dr. Gurnet a mere bead strung on an extendednecklace. He hadn't any idea, as the London specialist had had, thatWinn could only have one organ and one interest. He came upon him withthe effect of bouncing out from behind a screen with a series of funny, flat little questions. Sometimes Winn thought he was going to be angrywith him, but he never was. There was a blithe impersonal touch in Dr. Gurnet, a smiling willingness to look on private histories as of lessimportance than last year's newspapers. It was as if he airily explainedto his patients that really they had better put any facts there were onthe files, and let the housemaid use the rest for the kitchen fire; andhe required very little on Winn's part. From a series of reluctantmonosyllables he built up a picturesque and reliable structure of hisnew patient's life. They weren't by any means all physical questions. Hewanted to know if Winn knew German. Winn said he didn't, and added thathe didn't like Germans. 

"Then you should take some pains to understand them, " observed Dr. Gurnet. "Not to understand the language of an enemy is the first steptoward defeat. Why, it is even necessary sometimes to understand one'sfriends. "

Winn said that he had a friend he understood perfectly; his name wasLionel Drummond. 

"I know him through and through, " he explained; "that's why I trusthim. " Dr. Gurnet looked interested, but not convinced. 

"Ah, " he said, "personally I shouldn't trust any man till he was dead. You know where you are then, you know. Before that one prophesies. Bythe by, are you married?" Dr. Gurnet did not raise his eyes at thisquestion, but before Winn's leaden "Yes" had answered him he had writtenon the case paper, "Unhappy domestic life. "

"And--er--your wife's not here with you?" Dr. Gurnet suavely continued. Winn thought himself non-committal when he confined himself to saying:

"No; she's in England with my boy. " He was as non-committal for Dr. Gurnet as if he had been a wild elephant. He admitted Peter with achange of voice, and asked eagerly if things with lungs were hereditaryor catching?

"Not at present in your case, " Dr. Gurnet informed him. "By the by, you'll get better, you know. You're a little too old to cure, but you'llpatch up. "

"What does that mean?" Winn demanded. "Shall I be a broken-winded, cats'-meat hack?"

Dr. Gurnet shook his head. 

"You can go back to your regiment, " he said, "and do anything you likebar pig-sticking and polo in a year's time. That is to say, if you do asyou are told for that year and will have the kindness to remember that, if you do not, I am not responsible, nor shall I be in any great degreeinconsolable. I am here like a sign-post; my part of the business is topoint the road. I really don't care if you follow it or not; but Ishould be desolated, of course, if you followed it and didn't arrive. This, however, has not yet occurred to me. 

"You will be out of doors nine hours a day, and kindly fill in this cardfor me. You may skate, but not ski or toboggan, nor take more than fourhours' active exercise out of the twenty-four. In a month's time I shallbe pleased to see you. Remember about the German and--er--do you everflirt?"

Winn stared ominously. 

"Flirt? No, " he said. "Why the devil should I?"

Dr. Gurnet gave a peculiar little smile, half quizzical and half kindly. 

"Well, " he said, "I sometimes recommend it to my patients in order thatthey may avoid the intenser application known as falling in love. Or incases like your own, for instance, when a considerable amount ofbeneficial cheerfulness may be arrived at by a careful juxtaposition ofthe sexes. You follow me?"

"No, hanged if I do, " said Winn. "I've told you I'm married, haven't I?Besides, I dislike women. "

"Ah, there perhaps we may be more in agreement than you imagine, " saidDr. Gurnet, increasing his kindly smile. "But I must continue to assureyou that this avoidance of what you dislike is a hazardous operation. The study of women at a distance is both amusing and instructive. Igrant you that too close personal relations are less so. I have avoidedfamily life most carefully from this consideration, but much may beobtained from women without going to extremes. In fact, if I may say so, women impart their most favorable attributes solely under theseconditions. Good morning. "

Winn left the small brown house with a heart that was strangely light. Of course he didn't believe in doctors any more than Sir Peter did, buthe found himself believing that he was going to get well. 

All the morning he had been moving his mind in slow waves that did notseem like thoughts against the rock of death; but he came away from thetiger-skins and the flickering laughter of Dr. Gurnet's eyes with acomfortable sense of having left all such questions on the doorstep. Hethought instead of whether it was worth while to go down to the rinkbefore lunch or not. 

It was while he was still undecided as to this question that he heard alittle shriek of laughter. It ran up a scale like three notes on aflute; he knew in a moment that it was the same laughter he hadlistened to the night before. 

He turned aside and found himself at the bend of a long ice run leadingdown to the lake. A group of men were standing there, and with one footon a toboggan, her head flung back, her eyes full of sparkling mischief, was the child. He forgot that he had ever thought her a boy, though shelooked on the whole as if she would like to be thought one. Her curlyauburn hair was short and very thick, and perched upon it was a roundscarlet cap; her mouth was scarlet; her eyes were like Scotch braes, brown and laughing; the curves of her long, delicate lips ran upward;her curving thin, black eyebrows were like question-marks; her chin wastilted upward like the petal of a flower. She was very slim, and wore avery short brown skirt which revealed the slenderest of feet and ankles;a sweater clung to her unformed, lithe little figure. She had an air ofpointed sharpness and firmness like a lifted sword. She might have beensixteen, though she was, as a matter of fact, three years older; but shewas not so much an age as a sensation--the sensation of youth, incredibly arrogant and unharmed. The men were trying to dissuade herfrom the run. It had just been freshly iced; the long blue line of itcurved as hard as iron in and out under banks of ice far down into thevalley. A tall boy beside her, singularly like her in features andcoloring, but weaker in fiber and expression, said querulously:

"Don't go and make a fool of yourself, Claire. It's a man's run, not agirl's. I won't have you do it. " It was the fatal voice of authoritywithout power. 

Across the group her eyes met Winn's; wicked and gay they ran over himand into him. He stuck his hands into his pockets and stared back at hergrimly, like a Staines. He wasn't going to say anything; only if she hadbelonged to him he would have stopped her. His eyes said he could havestopped her; but she didn't belong to him, so he set his square jaw, andgave her his unflinching, indifferent disapproval. 

She appeared after this to be unaware of him, and turned to her brother. 

"Won't have it?" she said, with a little gurgle of laughter. "Why, howdo you suppose you can stop me? There's only one way of keeping a man'srun for men, and that's for girls not to be able to use it--see!"

She slipped her teasing foot off the toboggan and with an agile twist ofher small body sprang face downward on the board. In an instant she wasoff, lying along it light as a feather, but holding the runners in agrip of steel. In a moment more she was nothing but a traveling blackdot far down the valley, lifting to the banks, swirling lightning swiftback into the straight in a series of curves and flashes, till at theend the toboggan, girl and all, swung high into the air, and subsidedsafely into a snow-drift. 

Winn turned and walked away; he wasn't going to applaud her. Somethingburned in his heart, grave and angry, stubborn and very strong. It wasas if a strange substance had got into him, and he couldn't in the leasthave said what it was. It voiced itself for him in his saying tohimself, "That girl wants looking after. " The men on the bank admiredher; there were too many of them, and no woman. He wondered if he shouldever see her again. She was curiously vivid to him--brown shoes andstockings, tossed hair, clear eyes. He remembered once going to an operaand being awfully bored because there was such a lot of stiff music andpeople bawling about; only on the stage there had been a girl lying inthe middle of a ring of flames. She'd showed up uncommonly well, ratherlike this one did in the hot sunshine. 

Walking back to the hotel he met a string of bounders, people he hadseen and loathed at breakfast. Some of them had tried to talk to him;one beggar had had the cheek to ask Winn what he was up there for, andwhen Winn had said, "Not to answer impertinent questions, " things at thebreakfast-table--there was one confounded long one for breakfast--hadfallen rather flat. 

He felt sure he wouldn't see the girl again; only he did almost at once. She came into the _salle-à-manger_ with her brother, as if it belongedto them. After two stormy, obstinate scenes Winn had obtained theshelter of his separate and solitary table. The waiter approached thetwo young things as they entered late and a little flushed; apparentlyhe explained to them with patient stubbornness that they, at any rate, must give up this privilege; they couldn't have a separate table. Healso tried to persuade them which one to join. The boy made a blusteringassertion of himself and then subsided. Claire Rivers did neither. Hereyes ran over the room, mutinous and a little disdainful; then shemoved. It seemed to Winn he had never seen anybody move so lightly andso swiftly. There was no faltering in her. She took the room with herhead up like a sail before a breeze. She came straight to Winn's tableand looked down at him. 

"This is ours, " she said. "You've taken it, though we were here first. Do you think it's fair?"

Winn rose quietly and looked down at her. He was glad he was half a headtaller; still he couldn't look very far down. She caught at the cornerof her lip with a small white tooth. He tried to make a look ofsternness come into his eyes, but he felt guiltily aware that he wantedto give in to her, just as he wanted to give in, to Peter. 

"Of course, " he said, gravely, "I had no idea it was your table when Igot it from that tow-headed fool. You must take it at once, and I'llmake him bring in another one. "

"He won't, " said Claire. "He says he can't; Herr Avalon, the proprietor, won't give him another; besides, there isn't room. "

"Oh, I think he will, " said Winn. "Shall I go over and bring yourbrother to you? Won't you sit down?"

She hesitated, then she said:

"You make me feel as if I were being very rude, and I don't want todrive you away. Only, you know, the other people here are rather awful, aren't they?"

Winn was aware that their entire awfulness was concentrated upon hiscompanion. 

"Please sit down, " he said a little authoritatively. Her brother oughtto have backed her up, but the young fool wouldn't; he stoodshamefacedly over by the door. "I'll get hold of your brother, " Winnadded, turning away from her. The waiter hovered nervously in theirdirection. 

"Am I to set for the three, sir?" he ventured. Claire turned quicklytoward Winn. 

"Yes, " she said; "why not? If you don't mind, I mean. You aren't reallya bit horrid. "

"How can you possibly tell?" Winn asked, with a short laugh. "However, I'll get your brother, and if you really don't mind, I'll come back withhim. "

Claire was quite sure that she could tell and that she didn't mind. 

The waiter came back in triumph, but Winn gave him a sharp look whichextracted his triumph as neatly as experts extract a winkle with a pin. Maurice apologized with better manners than Winn had expected. He lookeda terribly unlicked cub, and Winn found himself watching anxiously tosee if Claire ate enough and the right things. He couldn't, of course, say anything if she didn't, but he found himself watching. 

CHAPTER XII

Winn was from the first sure that it was perfectly all right. Shewouldn't notice him at all. She would merely look upon him as the manwho was there when there were skates to clean, skis to oil, any handylittle thing which the other fellows, being younger and not feeling solike an old nurse, might more easily overlook. Women liked fellows whocut a dash, and you couldn't cut a dash and be an old nursesimultaneously. Winn clung to the simile of the old nurse. That was, after all the real truth of his feelings, not more than that, certainlynot love. Love would make more of a figure in the world, not that itmattered what you called things provided you behaved decently. Only hewas glad he was not in love. 

He bought her flowers and chocolates, though he had a pang about thechocolates, not feeling quite sure that they were good for her; butflowers were safe. 

He didn't give her lilies--they seemed too self-consciously virginal, asif they wanted to rub it in--he gave her crimson roses, flowers thatfrankly enjoyed themselves and were as beautiful as they could be. Theywere like Claire herself. She never stopped to consider an attitude; shejust went about flowering all over the place in a kind of perpetualfragrance. 

She enjoyed herself so much that she simply hadn't time to notice anyone in particular. There were a dozen men always about her. She was soyoung and happy and unintentional that every one wanted to be with her. It was like sitting in the sun. 

She never muddled things up or gave needless pain or cheated. That waswhat Winn liked about her. She was as fair as a judge without beinganything like so grave. 

They were all playing a game, and she was the leader. They would havelet her break the rules if she had wanted to break them! but shewouldn't have let herself. 

Of course the hotel didn't approve of her; no hotel could be expected toapprove of a situation which it so much enjoyed. Besides Claire waslawless; she kept her own rules, but she broke everybody else's. Shenever sought a chaperon or accepted some older woman's shelteringpresence; she never sat in the ladies' salon or went to tea with thechaplain's wife. On one dreadful occasion she tobogganed wilfully on aSunday, under the chaplain's nose, with a man who had arrived only thenight before. 

When old Mrs. Stewart, who knitted regularly by the winter and countedalmost as many scandals as stitches, took her up on the subject out ofkindness of heart, Claire had said without meaning to be rude:

"I really don't think the chaplain's nose ought to be there, to _be_under, do you?"

Of course, Mrs. Stewart did. She had the highest respect for thechaplain's nose; but it wasn't the kind of subject you could argueabout. 

For a long time Claire and Winn never really talked; she threw words athim over her shoulder or in the hall or when he put her skates on ortook them off at the rink. He seemed to get there quicker than any oneelse, though the operation itself was sometimes a little prolonged. Ofcourse there were meals, but meals belonged to Maurice, and Claire hada way of always slipping behind him, so that it was really over theskates that Winn discovered how awfully clever she was. 

She read books, deep books; why, even Hall Caine and Marie Corellididn't satisfy her, and Winn had always thought those famous authors thelast words in modern literature. He now learned others. She gave himConrad to read, and Meredith. He got stuck in Meredith, but he likedConrad; it made him smell the mud and feel again the silence of thejungle. 

"Funny, " he explained to Claire, "because when you come to think of it, he doesn't actually write about the smell; only he's got it, and thejungle feeling, too. It's quiet, you know, in there, but not a bit likethe snows out here; there's nothing doing up in this snow, but God aloneknows what's happening in the jungle. Odd how there can be two sorts ofquiet, ain't it?"

"There can be two sorts of anything, " said Claire, exultantly. "Oh, notonly two--dozens; that's why it's all such fun. "

But Winn was inclined to think that there might be more fun where therewere fewer candidates for it. There was, for instance, Mr. Roper. Maurice was trying to work up for his final examination at Sandhurstwith Mr. Roper. He was a black-haired, polite man with a constant smileand a habit of agreeing with people much too promptly; also he readbooks and talked to Claire about them in the evening till every onestarted bridge. Fortunately, that shut him up. 

Winn was considered in Anglo-Indian clubs, where the standard of bridgeis high, to play considerably above it, and Claire played with a relish, that was more instinctive than reliable; nevertheless, Winn lovedplaying with her, and accepted Mr. Roper and Maurice as one acceptsseverity of climate on the way to a treat. He knew he must keep histemper with them both, so when he wanted to be nasty he looked atClaire, and when Claire looked at him he wanted to be nice. He couldn't, of course, stop Claire from ever in any circumstances glancing in thedirection of Mr. Roper, and it would have startled him extremely if hehad discovered that Claire, seeing how much he disliked it, had reducedthis form of communion to the rarest civility; because Winn still tookfor granted the fact that Claire noticed nothing. 

It was the solid earth on which he stood. For some months hisconsciousness of his wife had been an intermittent recognition of adisagreeable fact; but for the first few weeks at Davos he forgotEstelle entirely; she drifted out of his mind with the completeness of acollar stud under a wardrobe. 

He never for a moment forgot Peter, but he didn't talk about him becauseit would have seemed like boasting. Even if he had said, "I have a boycalled Peter, " it would have sounded as if nobody else had ever had aboy like Peter. Besides, he didn't want to talk about himself; he wantedto talk about Claire. 

She hadn't time to tell him much; she was preparing for a skatingcompetition, which took several hours a day, and then in the afternoonsshe skied or tobogganed with Mr. Ponsonby, a tall, lean Eton mastergetting over an illness. Winn privately thought that if Mr. Ponsonby waswell enough to toboggan, he was well enough to go back and teach boys;but this opinion was not shared by Mr. Ponsonby, who greatly preferredstaying where he was and teaching Claire. 

Claire tobogganed and skied with the same thrill as she played bridgeand skated; they all seemed to her breathless and vital duties. She didnot think of Mr. Ponsonby as much as she did of the toboggan, but hegave her points. In any case, Winn preferred him to Mr. Roper, who wasobliged to teach Maurice in the afternoons. 

If one wants very much to learn a particular subject, it is surprisinghow much of it one may pick up in the course of a day from chancemoments. 

In a week Winn had learned that Maurice and Claire were orphans, thatthey lived with an aunt who didn't get on with Claire and an uncle whodidn't get on with Maurice, and that there were several cousins toostodgy for words. Claire was waiting for Maurice to get throughSandhurst--he'd been horribly interrupted by pleurisy--and then shecould keep house for him somewhere--wherever he was sent--unless shetook up a profession. She rather thought she was going to do that in anycase, because they would have awfully little money; and besides, notdoing things was a bore, and every girl ought to make her way in theworld, didn't Major Staines think so?

Major Staines didn't, and emphatically said that he didn't. 

"Good God, no! What on earth for?" was how he expressed it. Clairestopped short, outside the office door, just as she was going to pay herbill. 

"We shall have to talk about this, " she said gravely. "I'm awfullyafraid you're a reactionary. "

"I dare say I am, " said Winn, who hadn't the faintest idea what areactionary was, but rather liked the sound of it. "We'll talk about itas much as you like. How about lunch at the Schatz Alp?"

That was how they went to the Schatz Alp and had their first real talk. 

CHAPTER XIII

Claire was not perfectly sure of life--it occurred to her at nineteenthat it might have in store for her certain surprises--but she wasperfectly sure of herself. She knew that she ought to have been a boy, and that if she had been a boy she would have tried to be like GeneralGordon. Balked of this ambition by the fact of her sex, she turned herattention to Maurice. 

It seemed to her essential that he should be like General Gordon in herplace, and by dint of persuasion, concentration of purpose, and sheerindomitable will power she infected Maurice with the same idea. He hadmade her no promises, but he had agreed to enter the army. 

It is improbable that General Gordon's character was formed wholly bythe exertions of his sister, but Claire in her eagerness ratheroverlooked the question of material. There was nothing in Mauricehimself that was wrong, but he belonged to a class of young men who arealways being picked up by "wrong 'uns. "

He wanted a little too much to be liked. He was quite willing to be ahero to please Claire if it was not too much trouble. Meanwhile heexpected it to be compatible with drinking rather more than was good forhim, spending considerably too much money, and talking loudly andknowingly upon subjects considered doubtful. 

If the world had been as innocent as Maurice, this program would in timehave corrected itself. But besides holes and the unwary, there are fromtime to time diggers of holes, and it was to these unsound guides thatMaurice found himself oftenest attracted. 

What he asked of Claire was that she should continue to believe in himand make his way easy for him. She could fight for his freedom with asurly uncle, but having won it, she shouldn't afterward expect a fellowto do things with it which would end in his being less free. 

Maurice really loved Claire, his idea of love being that he wouldundeviatingly choose her to bear all his burdens. She managed theexternals of his life with the minimum of exertion to himself. Shefought his guardians; she talked straight to his opposers; she tookbuffets that were meant for him to take; she made plans, efforts, andarrangements for his comfort. Lots of things he wanted he could simplynot have had if she had failed to procure them. 

Pushed beyond a certain point Maurice gave in, or appeared to give in, and lied. Claire never admitted even to herself that Maurice lied, butshe took unusual pains to prevent his ever being pushed beyond a certainpoint. 

It was Claire who had managed the journey to Davos in the teeth ofopposition; but it was Maurice who would have no other guide than Mr. Roper, a splendid army coach picked up at a billiard room in a hotel. Now that they were at Davos, Claire became a little doubtful if, afterall, her uncle hadn't been right when he had declared that Bournemouthwould have done as well and been far less expensive. Then Winn came, andshe began mysteriously to feel that the situation was saved. 

It wasn't that Winn looked in the least like General Gordon, but Mr. Ponsonby had told her that he was a distinguished officer and shottigers on foot. 

Claire was quite surprised that Winn had been so nice to her, particularly as he hadn't appeared at all a friendly kind of person; butshe became more and more convinced that Winn was a knight errant indisguise and had been sent by heaven to her direct assistance. 

Claire believed very strongly in heaven. If you have no parents and verydisagreeable relatives, heaven becomes extremely important. Clairedidn't think it was at all the place her aunt and uncle vaguely held outto her as a kind of permanent and compulsory pew into which an angelicverger conducted the more respectable after death. 

Everything Mr. And Mrs. Tighe considered the laws of God seemed toClaire unlikely to be the laws of anybody except people like Mr. AndMrs. Tighe; but she did believe that God looked after Maurice andherself, and she was anxious that He should look particularly afterMaurice. 

She determined that on the day she went to the Schatz Alp with MajorStaines she would take him into her confidence. She could explain theposition of women to him while they climbed the Rhüti-Weg; this wouldgive them all of lunch for Maurice's future, and she hoped withoutdirect calculations--because, although Claire generally had very strongpurposes, she seldom had calculations--that perhaps if she was lucky hewould tell her about tigers on the way down. 

It was one of those mornings at Davos which seemed made out of fragranceand crystal. The sun soaked into the pines, the sky above the tree-topsburned like blue flame. It was the first time in Claire's life that shehad gone out all by herself to lunch with a grown-up man. Winn was farmore important than a mere boy, besides being a major. 

She had been planning all the morning during her skating what argumentsshe should use to Winn on the subject of women, but when she saw him inthe hall everything went out of her head. She only knew that it was aheavenly day and that it seemed extraordinarily difficult not to dance. 

It was a long walk up to the Schatz Alp; there were paths where thepine-trees met overhead, garlanded with wreaths of snow, and the spacesbetween the wreaths were as blue as love-in-a-mist, an old-fashionedflower that grows in English gardens. Claire pointed it out to Winn. 

"Only, " she said, "up here there isn't any mist, is there?"

"No, " said Winn, looking at her in a curious way; "as far as I can see, there is none whatever. By the by, that particular flower you mentionisn't only called love-in-a-mist, it's also called devil-in-a-bush. "

"But that's a pity, " said Claire, decisively. "I like the other namebetter. "

She moved beside him with a buoyant, untiring step, without haste andwithout effort. He told her that he would like to take her up into theHimalayas. She would make a good climber. In his heart he knew there wasno place on earth to which he wouldn't like to take her. She was born tobe a man's comrade, observant, unexacting, level-headed. She was thekind of girl you wouldn't mind seeing in a tight place if you werethere, of course, to get her out of it. Then he pulled himself up andtold himself not to be fanciful. 

It was rather a fanciful morning: the day and the snowy hillside and theendless, pungent sweetness of the sunny air were like a spell. He foundhe was telling Claire about the things he used to do when he was a boy. He went on doing it because the adventures of the Staines family madeher laugh. 

He had not supposed that James, Charles, Isabella, Dolores, and hehimself were particularly funny before, but he was delighted to discovertheir hidden gift. Claire wanted to hear everything about them, theirponies, their dogs, their sharp disgraces, and their more wonderfulescapes and revenges; but she didn't want them to be punished, and Winnhad to hasten over those frequent and usually protracted disasters. 

They had the woods to themselves; there was no sound at all except theoccasional soft drop of melting snow. Once they stood quite stillholding their breath to watch the squirrels skim from tree to tree as ifthey were weaving the measures of a mystic dance. If it hadn't been forthe squirrels they might have been the only creatures alive in all thesilent, sparkling earth. 

The mountains spread out around them with the reticent hush ofinterrupted consciousness. They seemed to be on the verge of furtherrevelations, and were withheld from a last definite whisper only by theintrusion of humanity. 

"I know they could speak if they liked, " Claire murmured. "What do yousuppose they'd say?"

"Let's have an avalanche and knock the silly blighters out of our valleyfor good and all, " Winn suggested. 

Claire disposed of Davos with a wave of her hand. 

"But they don't mind us, do they?" she urged. "Because we're so happyand we like them so. Doesn't the air make you feel awfully funny andhappy?"

"Yes, " Winn admitted; "but it's not all the air, you know. "

Claire wanted to know what else it was; but as Winn didn't offer toexplain, she felt that perhaps she had better not ask. 

They were near the top when Winn paused suddenly and said in a mostpeculiar reluctant voice; "Look here, I think I ought to tell you. "

He stumbled over the words and then added, "No, by Jove, that won't do!"

"Oh, don't let's tell each other things we ought!" Claire entreated. "It's not the kind of morning for that. I meant to talk about lots ofreally important subjects, but I'm not going to now. I may later, ofcourse; but just now I don't feel in the mood for being important. "

Winn looked at her very hard, and then he said:

"But still you are rather important, you know. "

"Then, " she laughed, "I'm important enough to have my own way, aren'tI?"

Winn said nothing. He seemed to acquiesce that she was important enoughfor that. 

"Would you like to know, " she asked, "what I'd really like for lunch?"Winn said he would awfully, and by the time she had told him they hadreached the top, and the funicular appeared, disgorging people in frontof a big glass-covered restaurant. 

Winn found the best and quietest table with the finest view. From itthey could see the valley down to Frauenkirch and up to Clavedel. 

It was a splendid lunch, curiously good, with sparkling sweet wine, which Claire loved, and Winn, secretly loathing, serenely shared becauseof a silly feeling he had that he must take what she did. 

After lunch they sat and smoked, leaning over the great clear view. Theycould hear the distant velvety boom of the village clock beneath them. Winn gripped his hand firmly on the table. 

"I've got to damned well do it, " he said to himself. He remembered thathe had had once to shoot a spy in cold blood, and that he used thosewords to himself before he did it. 

A couple passed close to their table. The woman was over-dressed, andhung with all kinds of jingling chains and bangles; she was pretty, andas she sat with her profile turned a little toward them she wascuriously like Estelle. This was his opportunity. It must come now; allthe morning it had lain in the back of his mind, behind delight, behindtheir laughter, like some lurking jungle creature waiting for the dark. 

"Do you see that woman, " he asked Claire, "the pretty one over there bythe pillar? She's awfully like--"

Claire stopped him. "Pretty!" she cried. "Do you really think she'spretty? I think she's simply loathsome!"

Winn checked himself hurriedly; he obviously couldn't finish hissentence with "she's awfully like my wife. "

"Well, she sets out to be pretty, doesn't she?" he altered it ratherlamely. Claire continued extremely scornful. 

"Yes, I dare say, " she admitted. "She may set out to be smart too, hunground with things like a Christmas-tree, but she's as common as asixpenny bazaar. I'll tell you why I don't like her, Major Staines, andwho she reminds me of, but perhaps you think her pretty, too? I meanthat horrid woman, Mrs. Bouncing in our hotel?"

"But can't horrid women be pretty, too?" Winn ventured with meekness. 

"No, of course not, " said Claire, with great decisiveness. "Why, youknow horrid men can't be handsome. Look at Mr. Roper!" Winn wasuncertain if this point of knowledge had ever reached him; but he wasn'tat this time of day going to look at Mr. Roper, so he gave in. 

"I dare say you're right, " he said. "As a matter of fact, you know, Inever _do_ look at Roper. "

"But that's not the reason, " Claire went on, slightly softened by hervictory, "that I dislike her. I really dislike her because I think sheis bad for Maurice; but perhaps you haven't noticed the way he keepshanging about her. It makes me sick. "

Winn admitted that he had noticed it. 

"Still, " he said, "of course if you hadn't proved to me that by beinghorrid she couldn't be pretty, I should have supposed that he simplyhung about Mrs. Bouncing because she was--well, not precisely plain. "

Claire looked doubtfully at him, but he wasn't smiling; he was merelylooking at her with sufficient attention. 

"There are only two of us, " she said in a low voice, "Maurice and me, and I do so awfully want him to be a success. I don't think anybodyelse does. I don't even know how much he wants it himself. You see, Maurice is so young in many ways, and our people having died--he hasn'thad much of a chance, has he? Men ought to have fathers. "

Winn listened intently; he always remembered anything she said, but thisparticular opinion sank deep into the bottom of his heart: "Men ought tohave fathers. "

"I've done the best I can, " Claire went on, "but you see, I'm young, too; there are lots of things I don't really know about life. I thinkperhaps I sometimes believe too much that things are going to be jolly, and that makes me a bad adviser for Maurice. Do you know what I mean?"

Winn nodded, but he determined that whether she expected or not, sheshould have things jolly. He must be able to manage it. If one wanted athing as much as he wanted this, surely one could bring it off. 

Hadn't he pulled off races on the scratchiest of polo ponies, when hecouldn't afford better, out of sheer intention? He had meant to win, moved the pony along, and won. Was life less controllable than a shoddypolo pony?

He set his mouth and stared grimly out over the sparkling snow. He didnot ask himself how a man with a wife hung round his neck like amillstone was going to manage the perpetual happiness of a stray youngwoman. He never asked himself questions or saw how things were to bedone, but when the crisis came his instinct taught him in a flash theshort cut to victory. 

"Now, " said Claire, unexpectedly, "you are looking awfullydangerous--you do rather sometimes, you know--like a kind of volcanothat might go off. "

Winn turned his eyes slowly toward her. 

"I shall never be dangerous for you, Miss Rivers, " he said gently. 

He did not know how much he promised her or that he was alreadyincapable of keeping his promise. She looked away from him with smilinglips and happy, mysterious eyes. She had known long ago that all theforce he had was as safe with her as if he had laid it in her hands;safer than that, because he held it in his own--for her. 

It seemed to Claire that you were only perfectly secure when you werewith a man who could be dangerous to everybody else, but always safefor you. 

"You will help me with Maurice?" she said softly. "Then I sha'n't feelworried any more. "

"I shouldn't let it worry me for a moment if I were you, " Winn assuredher. "He hasn't come to much harm so far. He's young, that's all. I'llkeep my eye on him, of course. "

Winn knew quite well what he would do with a subaltern of Maurice'stype. He would take him out shooting and put the fear of God into him. If this were done often and systematically enough, the subaltern wouldimprove or send in his papers. But Davos did not offer equal advantages. One could not get the fear of God everywhere on a tap; besides, therewas Mrs. Bouncing. 

Claire turned suddenly toward him. 

"I want Maurice, " she said rather breathlessly, with shining eyes, "tobe a good soldier; I want him to be like you. "

Winn felt a pang of fear; it was a pang that was half horrible pain, andhalf passionate and wild delight. Was Claire perfectly safe? Why didshe want Maurice to be like him? It was Claire herself who banished hisfear; she added hastily:

"He really must get through Sandhurst properly. "

Of course she hadn't meant anything. In fact, if she really had likedhim in any particular way she'd have been shot before she showed it. What she wanted was simply the advice of an older man in the service. Itdid not occur to Winn that Claire had been shot already without knowingit. 

He went on being reassured all the way back because Claire talkedpersistently about tigers. Winn explained that once you thoroughly knewwhere you were, there was no real danger in a tiger. 

PART II

CHAPTER XIV

Winn discovered almost immediately that what assistance he could give toMaurice would have to be indirect. He had not a light hand for weak, evasive, and excitable people, and Maurice did not like to be driven offthe rink with "Better come along with me" or "I should think a goodbrisk walk to Clavedel would be about your mark. " Winn's idea of a walkwas silence and pace; he had a poor notion of small talk, and he becamepeculiarly dumb with a young man whose idea of conversation washigh-pitched boasting. 

When Maurice began telling stories about how he got the better ofso-and-so or the length of his ski-jumps, Winn's eyes becameunpleasantly like probes, and Maurice felt the élan of his effectspainfully ebbing away. Still, there was a certain honor in being soughtout by the most exclusive person in the hotel and Winn's requests, stated in flat terms and with the force of his determination behindthem, were extraordinarily difficult to refuse. 

It was Mr. Roper who gave Maurice the necessary stiffening. Mr. Roperdidn't like Winn, and though their intercourse had been limited to aseries of grunts on Winn's part, Mr. Roper felt something unerringlyinimical behind each of these indeterminate sounds. 

"That man's a spoil-sport, " he informed his pupil. Maurice agreed. 

"But he's beastly difficult to say no to, " he added. "You mean tosomehow, but you don't. "

"I expect he's trying to manage you, " Mr. Roper cleverly hinted. 

This decided Maurice once and for all. He refused all furtherinvitations. He had a terror of being managed, and though he always wasmanaged, gusts of this fear would seize upon him at any effort toinfluence him in any direction favorable to himself. He was never in theleast uneasy at being managed to his disadvantage. 

Baffled in his main direction, Winn turned his mind upon the subject ofMr. Roper. Mr. Roper was slippery and intensely amiable; these were notthe qualities with which Winn felt himself capable of direct dealing. Hewould have liked to destroy Mr. Roper, and he thought that the situationmight eventually arrive at this point; but until it did, he saw that hehad better leave Mr. Roper alone. "You can't do anything with a worm buttread on it, " he said to himself, and in hotels people had to be carefulhow they trod on worms. There was still Mrs. Bouncing, but a slightstudy of that lady, which took place in the hall after dinner, put thispossibility out of the question. She called Winn a "naughty man" andsuggested his taking her tobogganing by moonlight. 

Mr. Bouncing was a side issue, but Winn, despite his own marriage, heldthe theory that men ought to look after their wives. He felt that ifthere had been any question of other men he could have managed Estelle;or, even short of managing Estelle, he could have managed the other men. It occurred to him now that perhaps Mr. Bouncing could be led to actfavorably upon the question of his wife's behavior. 

Mr. Bouncing could not walk at all; he could get out to the publicbalcony in the sun, and when he was there, he lay with the "Pink 'Un"and "The Whipping Post" on his lap and his thermometer beside him. Allhe asked was that he should have his hot milk regularly four times aday. He hardly talked to anybody at all. This was not because it madehim cough to talk--it didn't particularly; he coughed without being madeto--but because he had exhausted his audience. 

There was only one subject left to Mr. Bouncing, and that was hishealth; after he had told people all his symptoms, they didn't want tohear any more and there was nothing left to talk about. So he lay therein the sunshine thinking about his symptoms instead. There were a goodmany of them to think about, and all of them were bad. 

Mr. Bouncing was surprised when Winn sat down to talk to him, and heexplained to him at once exactly what the doctors thought of his case. Winn listened passively, and came back the next day at the same time. 

This surprised Mr. Bouncing still more, and little by little thesubjects between them widened. Mr. Bouncing still talked about himself, but he talked differently. He told Winn things he had never told any oneelse, and he was really pleased when Winn laughed at a joke he showedhim in "The Pink 'Un. "

"You can laugh, " he said almost admiringly. "I daren't, you know; that'sone of the things I'm told not to do, but I often wish some one wouldcome here and laugh at the jokes for me. It's quite an effort for mesometimes not to burst out; and then, you see, hemorrhage! I knew a poorchap who literally died of it--died of laughing. They might put that inthe 'Pink 'Un, ' mightn't they?"

Winn said he thought one might die of worse things. 

"Yes, I know, " agreed Mr. Bouncing, "but I'm not going to be caught likethat. I dare say you don't know, but I believe I'm the worst case in thehotel. I'm not _quite_ sure; that's what worries me. There's a Mrs. Maguire who stays in bed. I've made all sorts of inquiries about her;but people are so stupid, they don't know the right symptoms to askabout, and I can't go in and look at her, can I? And my wife won't. Shesays one death's-head is enough for her and I quite see her point. Perhaps Mrs. Maguire's case is partly nerves. My wife thinks I'm verynervous. So I am, you know, in a way. I have to be careful; but, Lord!when I see the things people do up here! The risks they take! You, forinstance. I've seen you do heaps of things that are perfectly deadly;and yet there you are getting better. Funny, isn't it?"

Winn said it was funny, but he supposed one must take his chance. 

"Yes, I know; that is what people keep saying, " Mr. Bouncing admitted. "You can take it if you've got it; but my point is, if you haven't gotit, you can't take it, can you? Now, as far as I can see, looking backfrom the start, you know, I never had a dog's chance. It's years since Iwent out in a wind without an overcoat on, and once in the verybeginning I got my feet wet; but for the last five years I've been ascareful as a girl with a new hat. I think I shall live till the springif I don't get influenza. I hope you'll remember not to come near me ifyou feel a cold coming on. " Winn assured him that he would. "I askedDr. Gurnet the other day, " Mr. Bouncing went on musingly, "if he thoughtI should ever be able to walk to the post-office again--I used to getthere and back last winter, you know--but he wouldn't give me a directanswer. He said he thought I could rely on the hotel porter. He's notquite definite enough--Dr. Gurnet. I told him the other day howdifficult it was to get up in the morning, and he said, 'Well, then, whynot stay in bed?' But I'm not going to do that. I believe you go quickerwhen you stay in bed. Besides, I should be dull lying there in bed. Ilike to sit here and watch people and see the silly things they do. Thatyoung boy you sit at table with--he won't come to any good. Silly! Hethinks my wife likes him, but she doesn't; it's just that she must haveher mind taken off, you know, at times, poor thing. I like to see heramused. "

"And what about you?" asked Winn. "It seems to me she might better spendsome of her time amusing you. "

Mr. Bouncing pointed to the "Pink 'Un. "

"I've got plenty to amuse me, " he explained, "and you mustn't think shedoesn't look after me. Why, the other day--when I had the hightemperature, you know, and stayed in my room--she came to the door aftershe'd been skating, and said, 'Still coughing?' That shows she noticed Iwas worse, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure she must be awfully anxious about you, " Winn assented withmore kindliness than truth. "But do you care for her knocking about sowith young Rivers and that chap Roper? It seems to me she's too youngand too pretty. If I were you, I'd call her in a bit; I would really. "

Mr. Bouncing leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. This alwaysmade Winn a little uneasy, for when Mr. Bouncing's eyes were shut it wasso difficult to tell whether he was alive or dead. However, after a fewminutes he opened them. 

"They are five minutes late with my hot milk, " he said. "Do you mindjust getting up and touching the bell? And you've got such a sharp wayof speaking to waiters, perhaps you wouldn't mind hauling him over thecoals for me when he comes?" Winn complied with this request rapidly andeffectively, and the hot milk appeared as if by magic. 

Mr. Bouncing drank some before he returned to the subject of his wife. 

"Yes, " he said, "I dare say you would call her in. You're the kind ofman who can make people come in when you call. I'm not. Besides, yousee, she's young; she's got her life to live, and, then, ought I to havemarried her at all? Of course I was wonderfully well at the time; Icould walk several miles, I remember, and had no fever to speak of. Still, there were the symptoms. She took the risk, of course--she wasone of a large family, and I had money--but it hasn't been very amusingfor her, you must admit. "

Winn didn't admit it, because it seemed to him as if it had beenextremely amusing for Mrs. Bouncing, a great deal more amusing than ithad any right to be. 

"Perhaps you think she oughtn't to have married for money, " Mr. Bouncingwent on when he had finished the hot milk and Winn still sat theresaying nothing. "But you're quite wrong if you do. Money is the mostimportant thing there is--next to health of course. Health andmoney--one's no use without the other, of course; but I don't honestlythink anything else really matters. I know what the chaplain says; buthe's always been quite strong. "

"That's all very well, " said Winn. "I'm not a religious man myself, butpeople oughtn't to take something for nothing. If she's married you foryour money, she ought to be more with you. She's got the money, hasn'tshe, and what have you got? That's the way I look at it. "

Mr. Bouncing did not shake his head--he was too careful for that--but helooked as if he were shaking it. 

"That's one point of view, of course, " he said slowly; "but how do youknow I want to have her more with me? She's very young and strong. Iexpect she'd be exciting, and it wouldn't be at all good for me to beexcited. 

"Besides, she has no sense of humor. I wouldn't dream of asking her tolaugh at my jokes as I do you. She wouldn't see them, and then Ishouldn't like to show her the improper ones. They're not suitable forladies, and the improper ones are the best. I sometimes think you can'thave a really good joke unless it's improper. "

Winn did not say anything; but he thought that however limited Mrs. Bouncing's sense of humor might be, she would have enjoyed the improperones. 

Mr. Bouncing took out his thermometer. 

"It is five minutes, " he said, "since I've had the glass of milk, and Ithink my tongue must have cooled down by now. So I shall take mytemperature, and after that I shall try to go to sleep. But I don'tbelieve you are really anxious about my wife; what you're worried aboutis young Rivers. I've seen you taking him for walks, and it's no useyour worrying about him, because, as I've said before, he's silly. If hedidn't do one silly thing, he'd do another. However, he's selfish, too. That's always something; he won't be so likely to come to grief as if hewere merely silly. It's his sister I should be worried about if I wereyou. "

"Why?" asked Winn without looking at him. Mr. Bouncing looked at Winn, but he made no answer. He had already got his thermometer in his mouth. 

CHAPTER XV

Winn had a feeling that he ought to keep away from her, but Davos was aninconvenient place for keeping away. People were always turning up whenone least expected them, or one turned up oneself. Privacy and publicityflashed together in the sunny air. Even going off up a mountain with abook was hardly the resource it seemed; friends skied or tobogganed downupon you from the top, and carried you off to tea. 

Winn had an uneasy feeling that he oughtn't to go every morning to therink, though that was naturally the place for a man who was only allowedto skate to find himself. It was also the place where he could not failto find Claire. There were a good many other skaters on the rink, too;they were all preparing for the International Skating Competition. 

The English, as a rule, stuck to their own rink, where they had a styleof skating belonging to themselves. Their style was perpendicular andvery stiff; it was by no means easy to attain, and when attained, hardlyperhaps, to the observer, worth the efforts expended. Winn approved ofit highly. He thought it a smart and sensible way to skate, and was byno means a bad exponent; but once he had seen Claire skating on the bigrink, he put aside his abortive circling round an orange. It isdifficult to concentrate upon being a ramrod when every instinct in youdesires to chase a swallow. She wore, when she skated, a short, blackvelvet skirt, white fox furs, and a white fur cap. One couldn't verywell miss seeing her. It did not seem to Winn as if she skated at all. She skimmed from her seat into the center of her chosen corner, and thenlooked about her, balanced in the air. When she began to skate he couldnot tell whether the band was playing or not, because he felt as if shealways moved to music. 

She would turn at first mysteriously and doubtingly, trying her edges, with little short cuts and dashes, like a leaf blown now here and nowthere, pushed by a draught of air, and then some purpose seemed tocatch her, and her steps grew intricate and measured. He could not takehis eyes from her or remember that she was real, she looked sounsubstantial, eddying to and fro, curving and circling and swooping. There was no stiffness in her, and Winn found himself ready to give upstiffness; it was terrible the amount of things he found himself readyto give up as he watched her body move like seaweed on a tide. Motionand joy and music all seemed easy things, and the things that were noteasy slipped out of his mind. 

After a time Maurice would join her to practise the pair-skating. He wasa clever skater, but careless, and it set Winn's teeth on edge to watchhow nearly he sometimes let her down. He would have let any other womandown, but Claire knew him. She counted on his not being exactly where heought to be, hovered longer on her return strokes, pushed herself moreswiftly forward to meet him, or retreated to avoid his too impulsiverushes. Winn was always glad when Maurice, satisfied with his cursorypractice, left her circling alone and unfettered like a sea-gull on acliff. 

This was the time when he always made up his mind not to join her, andfelt most sure that she didn't care whether he joined her or not. 

He had not talked with her alone since their lunch at the Schatz Alpnearly a week ago. Every one of her hours was full, her eyes danced andlaughed as usual, the secretive bloom of youth hid away from him anysign of expectation. He did not dream that every day for a week she hadexpected and wanted him. She couldn't herself have explained what shewanted. Only her gaiety had lost its unconsciousness; she was showingthat she didn't mind, she was not, now minding. It seemed so strangethat just when she had felt as if they were real friends he hadmysteriously kept away from her. Perhaps he hadn't meant all the nicethings he had said or all the nicer things he hadn't said at all, butjust looked whenever her eyes met his? They did not meet his now; healways seemed to be looking at something else. Other men put on herskates and found her quickest on the rink, and the other men seemed toClaire like trees walking; they were no longer full of amusingpossibilities. They were in the way. Then one morning Winn, watching herfrom a distance noticed that Maurice didn't turn up. Claire actuallylooked a forlorn and lonely little figure, and he couldn't make up hismind not to join her. 

He skated slowly up to her. 

"Well, " he said, "where's Maurice? He oughtn't to be missing a goodskating morning like this?" It suddenly seemed to Claire as ifeverything was all right again. Winn was there for her, just as he hadbeen on the Schatz Alp; his eyes looked the same, and the intentionalbruskness which he put into his voice was quite insufficient to hide itseagerness. 

"Oh, " she said, "Major Staines, I didn't mean to tell anybody, but Ishall tell you of course. It's rather sickening, isn't it? Mauricedoesn't want to go in for the competition any more; he says he can'tspare the time. "

"What!" cried Winn; "look here, let's sit down and talk about it. " Theysat down, and the music and the sunshine spread out all round them. Everything swung into a curious harmony, and left them almost nothingto be upset about. "He can't throw you over like this, " Winn protested. "Why, it's only a fortnight off the day, and you're one of the tiptopskaters. "

Claire did not say what she knew to be true, that people had been sayingthat too much to Maurice, and Maurice only liked praise that came hisown way. 

"I think it's Mrs. Bouncing, " she said dejectedly. "He's teaching her toskate, but she'll never learn. She's been up here for years, and shedoesn't know her edges! It looks awfully as if he really liked her, because Maurice skates quite well. "

"I'm afraid I've been of very little use to you about Mrs. Bouncing, "Winn said apologetically. "I thought Bouncing might help us, he's quitea good chap; but I'm afraid he's too down in the mouth. Still, I think Imay be able to do something if things get to look really bad. Don'tworry about that, please. But, by Jove! this skating matter _is_serious. What are you going to do about it?" Anything that stopped sportseemed to Winn to be really serious; something had got to be done aboutit. "Isn't there any one else up here not going in for it that youcould lick into shape?"

Claire shook her head doubtfully. 

"They'd have to give up every bit of their time, " she explained, "andvirtually hardly breathe. You see, pair-skating is really very stiff. Ofcourse, if I got a new man, I'd do most of the figures; but he'd have tobe there to catch me at the right times, and awfully steady on hisedges, and waltz of course. "

"What about me?" Winn asked quietly. 

"I'm steady on my edges, and I can waltz after a fashion, and I'dpromise not to breathe for a fortnight. " He looked at her, and thenlooked away quickly. He was a damned fool to have offered himself! Howon earth was he going to stand a fortnight with her when he could barelykeep himself in hand for five minutes?

"Oh, " she said, "you!"

Afterward she said a good deal more, but Winn only remembered the wayshe said "you, " because her voice had sounded different, as if she hadfound something she had wanted to lay her hands on. Of course what shereally wanted was to go in for the pair-skating; it was much the mostfun. 

They began from that moment to go in for it. Winn had to speak to Dr. Gurnet about the skating, because four hours wasn't enough, and Claireinsisted upon Dr. Gurnet's consent. 

Dr. Gurnet had consented, though he had raised his eyebrows and said, "Pair-skating?" and then he had asked who Major Staines had chosen forhis partner. Naturally Winn had become extremely stiff, and said, "MissRivers, " in a tone which should have put an end to the subject. 

"Well, well!" said Dr. Gurnet. "And she's a woman, after all, isn'tshe?" Winn ignored this remark. 

"By the by, " he said, "my friend's coming out in about a fortnight--theone I told you about, Captain Drummond. "

"I remember perfectly, " said Dr. Gurnet; "a most estimable person Iunderstand you to say. In about a fortnight? The skating competitionwill just be over then, won't it? I am sure I hope you and Miss Riverswill both make a great success of it. "

The fortnight passed in a sunny flash. On the whole Winn had kepthimself in hand. His voice had betrayed him, his eyes had betrayed him, all his controlled and concentrated passion had betrayed him; but hehadn't said anything. He had buried his head deep in the sands andtrusted like an ostrich to an infectious oblivion. He reviewed hisbehavior on the way to the rink the day of the International. 

It was an icy cold morning; the valley was wrapped in a thick blue mist. There was no sunlight yet. The tops of the mountains were a sharpeneddeadly white, colder than purity. As he walked toward the valley theblack fir-trees on the distant heights took fire. They seemed to belighted one by one from some swift, invisible torch, and then quickerthan sight itself the sun slipped over the edge and ran in a goldenflood across the mountains. The little willows by the lake-side turnedapricot; the rink was very cold and only just refrozen. It was a smallgray square surrounded by color. Winn was quite alone in the silence andthe light and the tingling bitter air. There was something in him thatburned like a secret undercurrent of fire. Had he played the game? Whatabout that dumb weight on his lips when he had tried to tell Claire onthe Schatz Alp about Estelle? He couldn't get it out then; but had hetried again later? Had he concealed his marriage? Why should he tell heranything? She wouldn't care, she was so young. Couldn't he have his bitof spring, his dance of golden daffodils, and then darkness? He reallythought of daffodils when he thought of Claire. She wouldn't mind, because she was spring itself, and had in front of her a greatsuccession of flowers; but these were the last he was going to have. There wouldn't be anything at all after Claire, and he wasn't going tomake love to her. Good God! he wasn't such a beast! There had been timesthis last fortnight that had tried every ounce of his self-control, andhe hadn't touched her. He hadn't said a word that damned yellow-necked, hen-headed chaplain's wife couldn't have heard and welcome. Would manyfellows have had his chances and behaved as if they were frozenbarbed-wire fences? And she'd looked at him--by Jove, she'd looked athim! Not that she'd meant anything by it; only it had been hard to haveto sit on the only decent feelings he had ever had and not let them rip. And as far as Estelle was concerned, she didn't care a damn for him, andhe might just as well have been a blackguard. But that wasn't quite thepoint, was it? Blackguards hurt girls, and he hadn't set out to hurtClaire. 

Well, there was no use making any song or dance about it; he'd have togo. At first he had thought he could tell her he was married--tell heras soon as the competition was over, and stay on; but he hadn't countedon the way things grew, and he didn't think now he could tell her andthen hold his tongue about what he felt. If he told her, the whole thingwould be out; he couldn't keep it back. There were things you knew youcould do, like going away and staying away; there were others you were afool to try. 

He circled slowly over the black ice surrounded by pink flames. It madehim laugh, because he might have been a creature in hell. Yes, that waswhat hell was like, he had always known it--cold. Cold and lonely, when, if you'd only had a bit of luck, you might have been up somewhere in thesunlight, not alone. He didn't feel somehow this morning as if hismarriage was an obstruction; he felt as if it were a shame. It hurt himterribly that what had driven him to Estelle could be called love, whenlove was this other feeling--the feeling that he'd like to be torn intolittle bits rather than fail Claire. He'd be ridiculous to please her;he'd face anything, suffer anything, take anything on. And it wasn't inthe least that she was lovely. He didn't think about her beauty half asmuch as he thought about her health and the gentle, tender ways she hadwith sick people. He'd watched her over and over again, when she had noidea he was anywhere near, being nice to people in ways in which Winnhad never dreamed before one could be nice. When people had nothing buttheir self-esteem left them, no attractions, no courage, no health, she'd just sit down beside them and make their self-esteem happy andcomfortable. 

She needn't have been anything but young and gay and triumphant, but shenever shirked anybody else's pain. He had puzzled over her a good dealbecause, as far as he could see, she hadn't the ordinary rules belongingto good people--about church, and not playing cards for money, andpulling people up. It wasn't right and wrong she was thinking of most;it was other people's feelings. 

He tried not to love her like that, because it made it worse. It waslike loving God and Peter; it mixed him all up. 

He couldn't see straight because everything he saw turned into love ofher, and being with her seemed like being good; and it wasn't, ofcourse, if he concealed things. 

The icy blue rink turned slowly into gold before he had quite made uphis mind what to do. Making up his mind had a good deal to do withLionel, so that he felt fairly safe about it. It was going to hurthorribly, but if it only hurt him, it couldn't be said to matter. Youcouldn't have a safe plan that didn't hurt somebody, and as long as itdidn't hurt the person it was made for, it could be counted a success. 

Davos began to descend upon the rink, first the best skaters--Swedes, Russians, and Germans--and then all the world. The speed-skaters stoodabout in heavy fur coats down to their feet. 

Claire came down surrounded by admirers. Winn heard her laugh before hesaw her, and after he had seen her he saw nothing else. She looked likeone of the fir-trees when the sun had caught it; she seemed aflame witha quite peculiar radiance and joy. She flew toward Winn, imitating thespeed-skaters with one long swift stride of her skates. 

"Ah, " she cried, "isn't it a jolly morning? Isn't everything heavenly?Aren't you glad you are alive?"

That was the kind of mood she was in. It was quite superfluous to ask ifshe was nervous. She was just about as nervous as the sun was when itran over the mountains. 

"There doesn't seem to be much the matter with you this morning, " saidWinn, eying her thoughtfully. 

The rink cleared at eleven and the band began to play. 

The judges sat in different quarters of the rink so as to get the bestall-around impression of the skating. The audience, muffled up in furs, crowded half-way up the valley, as if it were a gigantic amphitheater. 

A Polish girl, very tall and slender, with a long black pigtail, swungout upon the ice. She caught the music with a faultless steadiness andswing. Her eyes were fixed on the mountains; her flexible hips and waistswung her to and fro as easily as a winter bird hovers balanced on itssteady pinions. Out of the crowd her partner, a huge black-beardedRussian, glided toward her, caught her by the waist, lifted her, andflung her from side to side in great swirls and resounding leaps. Herskirts flew about her, her pigtail swung round her in the air, her feetstruck the ice firmly together like a pair of ringing castanets. Thecrowd shouted applause as he caught her by the wrists after aparticularly dazzling plunge into the empty air, and brought her roundto face them, her fixed eyes changed and shot with triumph. The dancewas over. 

Then a succession of men skaters came forward, whirling, twisting, capering with flying feet. Winn watched them with more astonishment thanpleasure. 

"Like a ring of beastly slippery microbes!" he remarked to Claire. 

"Yes, " she said; "but wait. " Half a dozen men and women came running outon the rink; with lifted feet, hand in hand, they danced like flyingsunbeams. 

Then a German pair followed the Polish. Both were strong, first-rateskaters, but the man was rough and selfish; he pulled his girl about, was careless of her, and in the end let her down, and half the audiencehissed. 

Swedish, Norwegian, French pairs followed swiftly after. Then Clairerose with a quickening of her breath. 

"Now, " she said, "you!" It was curious how seldom she said MajorStaines. 

Winn didn't much care to do this kind of thing before foreigners. However, it was in a way rather jolly, especially when the music warmedone's blood. He swept her out easily to the center of the ice. For atime he had only to watch her. He wondered what she looked like to allthe black-headed dots sitting in the sun and gazing. In his heart therewas nothing left to which he could compare her. She turned her head alittle, curving and swooping toward him, and then sprang straight intothe air. He had her fast for a moment; her hands were in his, her eyeslaughed at his easy strength, and again she shot away from him. Now hehad to follow her, in and out, to the sound of the music; at first hethought of the steps, but he soon stopped thinking. Something hadhappened which made it quite unnecessary to think. 

[Illustration: In his heart there was nothing left to which he couldcompare her]

He was reading everything she knew out of his own heart; she had gotinto him somehow, so that he had no need to watch for his cue. 

Wherever she wanted him he was; whenever she needed the touch of hishand or his steadiness it was ready for her. They were like the musicand words of a song, or like a leaf and the dancing air it rests upon. They were no longer two beings; they had slipped superbly, intolerablyinto one; they couldn't go wrong; they couldn't make a mistake. Whereshe led he followed, indissolubly a part of her. 

They swung together for the final salute. It seemed to Winn that herheart--her happy, swift-beating, exultant heart--was in his breast, andthen suddenly, violently he remembered that she wasn't his, that he hadno right to touch her. He moved away from her, leaving her, a littlebewildered, to bow alone to the great cheering mass of people. 

She found him afterward far back in the crowd, with a white face andinscrutable eyes. 

"You must come and see the speed-skaters, " she urged, with her hand onhis arm. "It's the thing I told you about most. And I believe we've wonthe second prize. The Russian and Pole have got the first, of course;They were absolutely perfect, but we were rather good. Why did you rushoff, and what are you looking like that for? Is anything the matter?You're not--" her voice faltered suddenly--"you're not angry, are you?"

"No, I'm not angry, " said Winn, recklessly, "and nothing's the matter, and I'll go wherever you want and see what you want and do what youwant, and I ran away because I was a damned fool and hate a fuss. And Isee you're going to ask me if I liked it awfully. Yes, I did; I liked itawfully. Now are you satisfied?" He still hadn't said anything, hethought, that mattered. 

"Oh, yes, " she said slowly, "of course I'm satisfied. I'm glad you likedit awfully; I liked it awfully myself. "

CHAPTER XVI

The valley of the Dischmatal lies between two rather shapelessmountains; it leads nowhere, and there is nothing in it. 

Winn gave no reason for his wish to walk there with Lionel except thatit was a quiet place for a talk. They had been together for twenty-fourhours and so far they had had no talk. Lionel had expected to find achange in Winn; he had braced himself to meet the shock of seeing thestrongest man he knew pitilessly weakened under an insidious disease. Hehad found a change, but not the one he expected. Winn looked younger, more alert, and considerably more vigorous. There was a curiousexcitement in his eyes which might have passed for happiness if he hadnot been so restless. He was glad to see Lionel, but that wasn't enoughto account for it. Winn looked ten years younger and he had something uphis sleeve. 

Lionel had his own theory as to what that something might be, but hewouldn't have expected it to make Winn look younger. He couldn't helpbeing afraid that Winn had found out Estelle. There had always been thechance that he might never find her out; he was neither reflective noranalytical, and Lionel was both. Winn might have been content simply toaccept her as lovely and delightful, an ideal wife--not a companion, buta beautiful, fluttering creature to be supplied with everything itwanted. If he had done that he wouldn't have waked up to the fact thatthe creature gave him nothing whatever back--beyond preening itsfeathers and forbearing to peck. Lionel respected and loved women, sothat he could afford to feel a certain contempt for Estelle, but he hadalways feared Winn's feeling any such emotion. Winn would condemnEstelle first and bundle her whole sex after her. Lionel hardly dared toask him, as he did at last on their way through Dorf, what news he hadof his wife. 

"What news of Estelle?" Winn asked indifferently. "None particularly. She doesn't like Peter's language. My people seem to have taken to himrather, and I hear he's picked up parts of the Governor's vocabulary. It'll be jolly hearing him talk; he couldn't when I left. Estelle'staken up religion. It's funny, my mother said she would, before we weremarried. My mother's got a pretty strong head; Estelle hasn't, she waskeen about the Tango when I left; but I dare say religion's better forher; hers is the high church kind. Up there is the valley--funny sort ofplace; it'll remind you of the hills--that's one reason why I broughtyou out here--that and the hotel being like a fly paper. Davos is likeall the places where our sort of people go--fashion or disease--it don'tmatter a penny which--they're all over the place itself, in and out ofeach other's pockets, and yet get a mile or two out and nobody's insight. Funny how people like each other. I don't like 'em, you know. Ihate 'em. "

In the early February afternoon the valley lay before them singularlystill and white. There were no fir-trees on the sides of the abrupt snowslopes, and it took Winn some time to rediscover a faint pathway halfblotted out by recent snow. 

A few minutes later the road behind them vanished, everything droppedaway from them but the snow, and the low gray skies. A tiny wind slippedalong the valley; it was strange not to see it, for it felt like thepush of a Presence, in the breathless solitude. A long way off Lionelcould hear a faint noise like the sound of some one choking. 

It reminded him of the sound behind the green baize doors in the hotel. It was just such a sound, suppressed, faint, but quite audible, that heheard along the passages at night. He looked questioningly at Winn. 

"That's a waterfall, " said Winn; "most of it's frozen up but it leaksthrough a little. There's a story about this place--I didn't mention itto you before, did I?"

Lionel shook his head. Winn was not in the habit of telling him storiesabout places. He had informed Lionel on one occasion some years ago, that he thought legends too fanciful, unless they were in the Bible, which was probably true, and none of our business. But Lionel hadalready wondered if this change in Winn wasn't on the whole making himmore fanciful. 

"I dare say, " Winn began, "there's not a word of truth in it, and it'sperfectly pointless besides; still it's a queer place, this valley, andwhat's particularly odd is, that though you can find it easily enoughsometimes, there are days when I'm blessed if it's there at all! AnyhowI've gone wrong times out of number when I've looked for it, and youknow I don't usually go wrong about finding places. This is the middleone of three valleys, count 'em backwards or forwards, whichever way youlike--but I give you my word, after you've passed the first, and takethe second turn, you'll find yourself in the third valley--or take itthe other way, you'll be in the first. It's made me jumpy before now, looking for it. However, that hasn't anything to do with the story, suchas it is. 

"They say that on New Year's eve, all the dead that have died in Davos(there must be a jolly lot of 'em when you come to think of it) processthrough the valley to the Waterfall. What their object is, of course, the story doesn't mention--ghosts, as far as I can see, never have muchobject, except to make you sit up; but they set out anyhow, scores andscores of 'em. 

"If it happens to be moonlight, you can see them slipping over the snow, making for the waterfall as fast as they can hoof it, but none of themlook back--and if they were all your dearest friends you couldn't catcha glimpse of their faces--unless, I suppose, you had the gumption tostart off by sitting up at the waterfall and waiting for 'em--whichnobody has, of course. The point of the story, if you can call it apoint, is that the last man in the procession isn't dead at all. He's asort of false spook of the living--taking his first turn in withthem--because as sure as fate he dies before the next year's out, andwhen the other chaps have reached the waterfall, he stops short andlooks back toward Davos--that's how he's been spotted, and he's alwaysdied all right before the end of the year. Rum tale, isn't it?"

"How did you get hold of it?" Lionel asked curiously. "It's not much inyour line, is it?"

"Well--I don't know, " said Winn, taking out his pipe and preparing tolight it. "The last six months or so, I've thought a lot of funnythings. I came up here prepared to die; that's to say, I thought I'd gotto, which is as far as you can prepare for most things, but I'm notgoing to die, as I told you yesterday, but what I didn't mention to youthen was that, on the whole, as it happens now, I'd jolly well rather. "

"You mean, " said Lionel, "that it's got too thick between you andEstelle? I wish you'd tell me, old chap. I haven't an idea how itstands, but I've been afraid ever since I stayed with you, that you'dmade a bit of a mistake over your marriage?"

"As far as that goes, " said Winn, "I swallowed that down all right. It'sno use bothering about a thing that isn't there. It's what is thatcounts. It counts damnably, I can tell you that. Look here, have youever had any ideas about love?"

"I can't say that I have, " Lionel admitted cautiously. "Many. I dare sayI should like it if it came; and I've had fancies for girls, of course, but nothing so far I couldn't walk off, not what people call the realthing, I suppose. I've always liked women more than you have, and Idon't think you get let in so much if you honestly like 'em. I haven'tseen any one I particularly want to marry yet, if that's what you mean?"

"That's part of it, " agreed Winn. "I supposed you'd been like that. Ishouldn't wonder if what you say about liking 'em being safer, isn'ttrue. I never liked 'em. I've taken what I could get when I wanted it. Irather wish I hadn't now, but I can't say I was ever sorry before. Even--Estelle--well, I don't want to be nasty about her--but it was onlydifferent, I can see that now, because I knew I couldn't get what Iwanted without marrying her--still--I somehow think I'd made a kind of astart that time--only I got pulled up too short. I dare say I quitedeserved it. That's no way of liking a woman. When you do _really_, youknow all the rest's been half twaddle and half greed. Your father andmother are all right--so are mine really, though they do blow eachother's heads off--still, there's something there--you know what Imean?"

"Something indestructible and uniting--" said Lionel quietly. "I'veoften wondered about it. "

"Well, I've never wondered about it, " said Winn, firmly, "and I'm notgoing to begin now. Still, I admit it's there. What I'm getting at isthat there's something I want you to do for me. You'll probably thinkI'm mad, but I can't help that. It'll work out all right in the end, ifyou'll do it. "

"You can ask me anything you like, " said Lionel, quietly; "any damnedthing. I don't suppose I'll refuse to do it. "

The water broke into a prolonged gurgle under their feet; it soundeduncannily like some derisive listener. There was nothing in sight atall--not even their shadows on the unlighted snows. 

"Well--there's a girl here, " Winn said in a low voice; "it's not veryeasy to explain. I haven't told her about Estelle; I meant to, but Icouldn't. I'm afraid you'll think I haven't played the game, but Ihaven't made love to her; only I can't stay any longer; I've got toclear out. "

Lionel nodded. "All right, " he said; "let's go wherever you like; thereare plenty of other snow places jollier than this. "

"That isn't what I want, " said Winn. "I want you to stay with her. Iwant you to marry her eventually--d' you see? It's quite simple, really. "

"By Jove, " said Lionel, thoughtfully; "simple, d' you call it? As simpleas taking a header into the mid-Atlantic! And what good would it do you, my dear old chap, if I did? It wouldn't be you that had got her?"

"I dare say not, " said Winn; "you don't see my point. She'd be all rightwith you. What I want for the girl is for her to be taken care of. Shehasn't any people to speak of, and she's up here now with a rotten, unlicked cub of a brother. I fancy she's the kind of girl that wouldhave a pretty hideous time with the wrong man. I've got to know she'sbeing looked after. D' you see?"

"But why should she marry?" Lionel persisted. "Isn't she all right asshe is? What do you want to marry her off for?"

"There'll be a man sooner or later, " Winn explained. "There always is, and she's--well, I didn't believe girls were innocent before. By God, when they are, it makes you sit up! I couldn't run the risk of leavingher alone, and that's flat! It's like chucking matches to a child andturning your back on it. 

"For after all, if a man cares about a girl the way I care about her, hedoes chuck her matches. When I go--some one decent ought to be there totake my place. "

"But there isn't the slightest chance she'll like me, even if I happenedto like her, " Lionel protested. "Honestly, Winn, you haven't thought thething out properly. You can't stick people about in each other'splaces--they don't fit. "

"They can be made to, " said Winn, inexorably, "if they're the properpeople. She'll like you to start with, besides you read--authors. Sodoes she--she's awfully clever, she doesn't think anything of MarieCorelli; and she likes a man. As to your taking to her--well, my dearchap, you haven't seen her! I give you a week; I'll hang about tillthen. You can tell me your decision at the end of it. "

"That's another thing, " said Lionel. "Of course you only care for thegirl, I see that, it's quite natural, but if by any chance I did pullthe thing off--what's going to happen to you and me, afterwards? I'vecared for that most, always. "

A Föhn wind had begun to blow up the valley--it brought with it acurious light that lay upon the snow like red dust. "I don't say I shalllike it, " Winn said after a pause. "I'm not out to like it. There isn'tanything in the whole damned job possible for me to like. But I'd a lotrather have it than any other way. I think that ought to show you what Ithink of you. You needn't be afraid I'll chuck you for seeing methrough. I might keep away for a time, but I'd come back. She isn't thekind of a woman that makes a difference between friends. "

"Oh, all right, " said Lionel after a pause, "I'll go in for it--if Ican. "

Winn got up and replaced his pipe carefully, shaking his ashes out on tothe snow. "I'm sure I'm much obliged to you, " he said stiffly. 

The wind ran up the valley with a sound like a flying train. Neither ofthem spoke while the gust lasted. It fell as suddenly as it came, andthe valley shrank back into its pall of silence. 

It was so solitary that it seemed to Lionel as if, at times, it mighteasily have no existence. 

Lionel walked a little in front of Winn; the snow was soft and madeheavy going. At the corner of the valley he turned to wait for Winn, andthen he remembered the fanciful legend of New Year's eve, for he sawWinn's face very set and white, and his eyes looked as if the presenceof death was in them--turned toward Davos. 

CHAPTER XVII

Winn was under the impression that he could stand two or three days, especially if he had something practical to do. What helped him was thecondition of Mr. Bouncing. Mr. Bouncing had suddenly retired. He had abedroom on the other side of Winn's, and a sitting-room connected itwith his wife's; but Mrs. Bouncing failed increasingly to take muchadvantage of this connection. Her theory was that, once you were in bed, you were better left alone. 

Mr. Bouncing refused to have a nurse; he said they were disagreeablewomen who wouldn't let you take your own temperature. This might haveseemed to involve the services of Mrs. Bouncing; but they were taken upfor the moment by a bridge drive. 

"People do seem to want me so!" she explained plaintively to Winn in thecorridor. "And I have a feeling, you know, Major Staines, that in ahotel like this it's one's duty to make things go. "

"Some things go without much making, " said Winn, significantly. He wasunder the impression that one of these things was Mr. Bouncing. 

Winn made it his business, since it appeared to be nobody else's, tokeep an eye on Mr. Bouncing: in the daytime he sat with him and ran hiserrands; at night he came in once or twice and heated things for Mr. Bouncing on a spirit lamp. 

Mr. Bouncing gave him minute directions, and scolded him for leavingmilk exposed to the menaces of the air and doing dangerous things with ateaspoon. Nevertheless, he valued Winn's company. 

"You see, " he explained to Winn, "when you can't sleep, you keep comingup to the point of dying. It's very odd, the point of dying, a kind ofcollapsishness that won't collapse. You say to yourself, 'I can't feelany colder than this, ' or, 'I must have more breath, ' or, 'This lung isbound to go if I cough much more. ' And the funny part of it is, you dogo on getting colder, and your breath breaks like a rotten thread, andyou never stop coughing, and yet you don't go! I dare say I shall bequite surprised when I do. Then when you come in and give me warm, drysheets and something hot to drink, something comes back. I suppose it'slife force; but not much--never as much as when I started the collapse. I'm getting weaker every hour; don't you notice it? I never approved ofall this lying in bed. I shall speak to Dr. Gurnet about it to-morrow. "

Winn had noticed it; he came and sat down by Mr. Bouncing's bed. 

"Snowy weather, " he suggested, "takes the life out of you. "

Mr. Bouncing ignored this theory. 

"I hear, " he went on, "that you and your new friend have changed yourtable. You don't sit with the Rivers any more. "

"No, " said Winn, laconically; "table isn't big enough. "

"I expect they eat too fast, " Mr. Bouncing continued; "young peoplealmost always eat too fast. You'll digest better at another table. Youlook to me as if you had indigestion now. "

Winn shook his head. 

"Look here, Bouncing, " he said earnestly, "I'm going off to St. Moritznext week to have a look at the Cresta; I wish you'd have a nurse. Drummond will run in and give an eye to you, of course; but you'repretty seedy, and that's a fact. I don't like leaving you alone. "

"Next week, " said Mr. Bouncing, thoughtfully. "Well, I dare say I shallbe ready by then. It would be a pity, when I've just got you into theway of doing things properly, to have to teach them all over again tosomebody else. I'm really not quite strong enough for that kind ofthing. But I'm not going to have a nurse. Oh, dear, no! Nurses deceiveyou and cheer you up. I don't feel well enough to be cheered up. I likesomebody who is thoroughly depressed himself, as you are, you know. Idare say you think I notice nothing lying here, but I've noticed thatyou're thoroughly depressed. Have you quarreled with your friend? It'sodd you rush off to St. Moritz alone just when he's arrived. "

"No, it isn't, " said Winn, hastily. "He'll join me later; he's stayinghere at my request. "

Mr. Bouncing sighed gently. 

"Well, " he said; "then all I can say is that you make very odd requests. One thing I'm perfectly sure about: if you go and look at the Cresta, you'll go down it, you're such a careless man, and then you'll bekilled. Is that what you want?"

"I could do with it, " said Winn, briefly. 

"That, " said Mr. Bouncing, "is because you're strong. It really isn'tnice to talk in that light way about being killed to any one who has gotto be before very long whether he likes it or not. If you were in myplace you'd value your life, unless it got too uncomfortable, ofcourse. "

Winn apologized instantly. Mr. Bouncing accepted his apology graciously. 

"You'll learn, " he explained kindly, "how to talk to very ill people intime, and then probably you'll never see any more of them. Experience isa very silly thing, I've often noticed; it hops about so. No continuity. What I was going to say was, don't be worried about young Rivers and mywife. Take my word for it, you're making a great mistake. "

"I am glad to hear you say so, " Winn answered. "As a matter of fact, Ihave at present a few little private worries of my own; but I'mrelieved, you think the Rivers boy is all right. I've been thinking ofhaving a little talk with that tutor of his. "

"Ah, I shouldn't do that if I were you, " said Mr. Bouncing, urgently;"you're sure to be violent. I see you have a great deal of violence inyou; you ought to control it. It's bad for your nerves. There are thingsI could tell you which would make you change your mind about youngRivers, but I don't know that I shall; it would excite me too much. Ithink I should like you to go down and telephone to Dr. Gurnet. Tell himmy temperature is normal. It's a very odd thing; I haven't had a normaltemperature for over three years. Perhaps I'm going to get better, afterall. It's really only my breathing that's troubling me to-night. Itwould be funny if I got well, wouldn't it? But I mustn't talk any more;so don't come back until I knock in the night. Pass me the 'Pink 'Un. '"Winn passed him the "Pink 'Un" and raised him with one deft, strongmovement more comfortably up on his pillows. 

"You've got quite a knack for this sort of thing, " Mr. Bouncingobserved. "If you'd been a clever man, you might have been a doctor. "

Mr. Bouncing did not knock during the night. Winn heard him stirring atten o'clock, and went in. The final change had come very quickly. Mr. Bouncing was choking. He waved his hand as if the very appearance ofWinn between him and the open balcony door kept away from him the airthat he was vainly trying to breathe. Then a rush of blood came in astream between his lips. Winn moved quickly behind him and lifted him inhis arms. 

Mr. Bouncing was no weight at all, and he made very little sound. He wasquite conscious, and the look in his eyes was more interested thanalarmed. The rush of bleeding stopped suddenly; his breathing was weakerand quieter, but he no longer choked. 

"Look here, old man, " Winn said, "let me get your wife. "

But Mr. Bouncing signaled to him not to move; after a time hewhispered:

"This is the first time I ever had hemorrhage. Most uncomfortable. "

"Do let me get your wife!" Winn urged again. 

"No, " said Mr. Bouncing. "Women--not much good--after the first. "

"Don't talk any more then, old man, " Winn pleaded. "You'll start thatbleeding off again. "

But Mr. Bouncing made a faint clicking sound that might have been alaugh. 

"Too late, " he whispered. "Don't matter now. No more risks. Besides, I'mtoo--too uncomfortable to live. "

There were several pauses in the hemorrhage, and at each pause Mr. Bouncing's mind came back to him as clear as glass. He spoke atintervals. 

"Not Rivers, " he said, fixing Winn's eyes, "Roper--Roper. " Then heleaned back on the strong shoulder supporting him. "Glad to go, " hemurmured. "Life has been--a damned nuisance. I've had--enough of it. "Then again, between broken, flying breaths he whispered, "Lonely. "

"That's all right, " Winn said gently. 

"You're not alone now. I've got hold of you. "

"No, " whispered Mr. Bouncing, "no, I don't think you have. "

There was no more violence now; his failing breath shook him hardly atall. Even as he spoke, something in him was suddenly freed; his chestrose slowly, his arm lifted then fell back, and Winn saw that he was nolonger holding Mr. Bouncing. 

CHAPTER XVIII

He closed the balcony door; the cold air filled the room as if it werestill trying to come to the rescue of Mr. Bouncing. Winn had often donethe last offices for the dead before, but always out of doors. Mr. Bouncing would have thought that a very careless way to die; he hadoften told Winn that he thought nature most unpleasant. 

When Winn had set the room in order he sat down by the table andwondered if it would be wrong to smoke a cigarette. He wanted to smoke, but he came to the conclusion that it wasn't quite the thing. 

To-night was the ball for the international skaters--he ought to havebeen there, of course. He had made Lionel go in his place, and hadwritten a stiff little note to Claire, asking her to give his dances tohis friend. He had Claire's answer in his pocket. "Of course I will, butI'm awfully disappointed. " She had spelled disappointed with two s'sand one p. Win had crushed the note into his pocket and not looked at itsince, but he took it out now. It wasn't like smoking a cigarette. Bouncing wouldn't mind. There was no use making a fuss about it; he haddone the best thing for her. He was handing all that immaculate, freshyouth into a keeping worthy of it. He wasn't fit himself. There were toomany things he couldn't tell her, there was too much in him still thatmight upset and shock her. He would have done his best, of course, tohave taken care of her; but better men could take better care. Lionelhad said nothing so far; he had taken Claire skiing and skating, andonce down the Schatz Alp. When he had come back from the Schatz Alp hehad gone a long walk by himself. Winn had offered to accompany him, butLionel had said he wanted to go alone and think. Winn accepted thisdecision without question. He knew Lionel was a clever man, but hedidn't himself see anything to think about. The thing was perfectlysimple: Lionel liked Claire or he didn't; no amount of being clevercould make any difference. Winn was a little suspicious of thinking. Itseemed to him rather like a way of getting out of things. 

The room was very cold, but Winn didn't like going away and leaving Mr. Bouncing. By the by he heard voices in the next room. He coulddistinguish the high, flat giggle of Mrs. Bouncing. She had come backfrom the dance, probably with young Rivers. He must go in and tell her. That was the next thing to be done. He got up, shook himself, glanced atthe appeased and peaceful young face upon the pillow, and walked intothe next room. It was a sitting-room, and Winn had not knocked; but heshut the door instantly after him, and then stood in front of it, as ifin some way to keep the silent tenant of the room behind him from seeingwhat he saw. 

Mrs. Bouncing was in a young man's arms receiving a prolonged farewell. It wasn't young Rivers, and it was an accustomed kiss. Mrs. Bouncingscreamed. She was the kind of woman who found a scream in an emergencyas easily as a sailor finds a rope. 

It wasn't Winn's place to say, "What the devil are you doing here, sir?"to Mr. Roper; it was the question which, if Mr. Roper had had theslightest presence of mind, he would have addressed to Winn. As it washe did nothing but snarl--a timid and ineffectual snarl which waswithout influence upon the situation. 

"You'd better clear out, " Winn continued; "but if I see you in Davosafter the eight o'clock express to-morrow I shall give myself thepleasure of breaking every bone in your body. Any one's at liberty toplay a game, Mr. Roper, but not a double game; and in the future Ireally wouldn't suggest your choosing a dying man's wife to play itwith. It's the kind of thing that awfully ruffles his friends. "

"I don't know what you mean, " said Mr. Roper, hastily edging toward thedoor; "your language is most uncalled for. And as to going away, I shalldo nothing of the kind. "

"Better think it over, " said Winn, with misleading calm. He movedforward as he spoke, seized Mr. Roper by the back of his coat as if hewere some kind of boneless mechanical toy, and deposited him in thepassage outside the door. 

Mrs. Bouncing screamed again. This time it was a shrill and gratifiedscream. She felt herself to be the heroine of an occasion. Winn eyed heras a hostile big dog eyes one beneath his fighting powers. Then he said:

"I shouldn't make that noise if I were you; it's out of place. I camehere to give you bad news. "

This time Mrs. Bouncing didn't scream. She took hold of the edge of thetable and repeated three times in a strange, expressionless voice:

"George is dead! George is dead! George is dead!"

Winn thought she was going to faint, but she didn't. She held on to thetable. 

"What ought I to do, Major Staines?" she asked in a quavering voice. 

Winn considered the question gravely. It was a little late in the dayfor Mrs. Bouncing to start what she ought to do, but he approved of herdetermination. 

"I think, " he said at last--"I think you ought to go in and look at him. It's usual. "

"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Bouncing, with a shiver, "I never have seen acorpse!"

Winn escorted her to the bedside and then turned away from her. Shelooked down at her dead husband. Mr. Bouncing had no anxiety in his faceat all now; he looked incredibly contented and young. 

"I--I suppose he really is gone?" said Mrs. Bouncing in a low voice. Then she moved waveringly over to a big armchair. 

"There is no doubt about it at all, " said Winn. "I didn't ring upGurnet. He will come in any case first thing to-morrow morning. "

Mrs. Bouncing moved her beringed hands nervously, and then suddenlybegan to cry. She cried quietly into her pocket-handkerchief, with hershoulders shaking. 

"I wish things hadn't happened!" she sobbed. "Oh, dear! I wish thingshadn't happened!" She did not refer to the death of Mr. Bouncing. Winnsaid nothing. "I really didn't mean any harm, " Mrs. Bouncing went onbetween her sobs--"not at first. You know how things run on; and he'dbeen ill seven years, and one does like a little bit of fun, doesn'tone?"

"I shouldn't think about all that now, " Winn replied. "It isn'tsuitable. "

Mrs. Bouncing shook her head and sobbed louder; sobbing seemed a refugefrom suitability. 

"I wouldn't have minded, " she said brokenly, "if I'd heated his milk. Ialways thought he was so silly about having skin on it. I didn't believewhen he came up-stairs it was because he was really worse. I wanted thesitting-room to myself. Oh dear! oh dear! I said it was all nonsense!And he said, 'Never mind, Millie; it won't be for long, ' and I thoughthe meant he'd get down-stairs again. And he didn't; he meant this!"

Winn cleared his throat. 

"I don't think he blamed you, " he said, "as much as I did. "

Mrs. Bouncing was roused by this into a sudden sense of her position. 

"Oh, " she said, "what are you going to do to me? You've always hated me. I'm sure I don't know why; I took quite a fancy to you that firstevening. I always have liked military men, but you're so stand-offish;and now, of course, goodness knows what you'll think! If poor old Georgewere alive he'd stand up for me!"

"I'm not going to do anything to hurt you, Mrs. Bouncing, " said Winn, after a short pause. "You'll stay on here, of course, till after thefuneral. We shall do all we can to help you, and then you'll go back toEngland, won't you?"

"Yes, " she said, shivering, "I suppose so. I shall go back to England. Ishall have to see George's people. They don't like me. Will--will thatbe all?"

"As far as I am concerned, " said Winn, more gently, "there is only onething further I have to suggest. I should like you to promise me, whenyou leave here, to have nothing more to do with young Rivers. It'sbetter not; it puts him off his work. "

Mrs. Bouncing reddened. 

"Oh, " she said, "I know; I didn't mean any harm by that. You can't helpyoung men taking a fancy to you, can you? At least I can't. It lookedbetter didn't it, in a way--you know what I mean. I didn't want peopleto think anything. If only George hadn't been so good to me! I don'tsuppose you can understand, but it makes it worse when they are. "

It seemed to Winn as if he could understand, but he didn't say so. Bouncing should have pulled her up. Winn always believed in people beingpulled up. The difficulty lay in knowing how to carry the process out. It had seemed to Mr. Bouncing simpler to die. 

"You'd better go to bed now, " Winn said at last. "People will be upsoon. He died quite peacefully. He didn't want you to be disturbed. Ithink that's all, Mrs. Bouncing. "

She got up and went again to the bed. 

"I suppose I oughtn't to kiss him?" she whispered. "I haven't any rightto now, have I? You know what I mean? But I would have liked to kisshim. "

"Oh, I don't believe he'd mind, " said Winn, turning away. 

Mrs. Bouncing kissed him. 

CHAPTER XIX

Winn felt no desire to go to bed. He went out into the long, blankcorridor and wondered if the servants would be up soon and he could getanything to drink. The passage was intensely still; it stretchedinterminably away from him like a long, unlighted road. A vague graylight came from the windows at each end. It was too early for the shapesof the mountains to be seen. The outside world was featureless and verycold. 

There was no sound in the house except the faint sound behind the greenbaize doors, which never wholly ceased. Winn had always listened to itbefore with an impatient distaste; he had hated to hear these echoes ofdissolution. This morning, for the first time, he felt curious. 

Suppose things had gone differently; that he'd been too late, and knownhis fate? He could have stayed on then; he could have accepted Claire'sbeautiful young friendliness. He could have left her free; and yet hecould have seen her every day; then he would have died. 

Weakness has privileges. It escapes responsibility; allowances are madefor it. It hasn't got to get up and go, tearing itself to pieces fromthe roots. He could have told her about Peter and Estelle and what afool he had been; and at the end, he supposed, it wouldn't have matteredif he had just mentioned that he loved her. 

Now there wasn't going to be any end. Life would stretch out narrow, interminable, and dark, like the passage with the windows at each end, which were only a kind of blur without any light. 

However, of course there was no use bothering about it; since theservants weren't up and he couldn't get any coffee, he must just turnin. It suddenly occurred to Winn that what he was feeling now wasunhappiness, a funny thing; he had never really felt before. It was thekind of feeling the man had had, under the lamp-post at the station, carrying his dying wife. The idea of a broken heart had always seemedto Winn namby-pamby. You broke if you were weak; you didn't break if youwere strong. What was happening now was that he was strong and he wasbeing broken. It was a painful process, because there was a good deal ofhim to break, and it had only just begun. However, this was mercifullyhidden from him. He said to himself: "I dare say I'm run down andfidgety with having had to sit up with Bouncing. I shall feel all rightto-morrow. " Then the door behind him opened, and Lionel joined him. Hewas still dressed as he had been when he came back from the ball somehours earlier. 

"Hullo!" he said. "I wondered if that was you; I thought I heardsomething stirring outside. You weren't in your room when I came in. Been with Bouncing?"

"Yes, " said Winn; "he's dead. I'm looking for some coffee. Theseconfounded, tow-headed Swiss mules never get up at any decent hour. Whyare you still dressed? Nothing wrong, is there?"

"Well, I didn't feel particularly sleepy, somehow, " Lionel acknowledged. "Are you going to stand outside in this moth-eaten passage the rest ofthe night, or will you come in with me and have a whisky and soda? Youmust be fagged out. "

"I don't mind if I do, " Winn agreed. "We may as well make a night ofit. "

For a few minutes neither of them spoke, then Winn said: "Had a jollydance?"

Lionel did not answer him directly; but he turned round, and met hisfriend's eyes with his usual unswerving honesty. 

"Look here, old Winn, " he said, "it's up to you to decide now. I'll stayon here or go with you, whichever you like. "

"You like her, then?" Winn asked quickly. 

"Yes, " said Lionel, "I like her. "

"Well, then, you'll stay of course, " said Winn without any hesitation. "Isn't that what we damned well settled?"

Lionel's eyes had changed. They were full of a new light; he looked asif some one had lit a lantern within him. Love had come to him not as ithad come to Winn, bitterly, unavailingly, without illusion; it hadfallen upon his free heart and lit it from end to end with joy. He lovedas a man loves whose heart is clean and who has never loved before, without a scruple and without restraint. Love had made no claims on himyet; it had not offered him either its disappointments or its greatrewards. He was transformed without being altered. He simply saweverything as glorious which before had been plain, but he did not seedifferent things. 

"Yes, " he said, "I know we talked about it; but I'm hanged if I'll tryunless I'm sure you are absolutely keen. I thought it all outafter--after I'd seen her, and it seemed to me all very well in theabstract giving her up to another man and all that, but when it came tothe point, would you be really sure to want me to carry through? I'veseen her now, you know, and I'm glad I've seen her. I'll be glad alwaysfor that, but it needn't go any further. "

Winn looked past him; he was tired with the long night's strain, and hehad no white ideal to be a rapture in his heart. He loved Claire notbecause she was perfection, but because she was herself. She wasfaultless to Lionel, but Winn didn't care whether she was faultless ornot. He didn't expect perfection or even want it, and he wasn't the manto be satisfied with an ideal; but he wanted, as few men have everwanted for any women, that Claire should be happy and safe. 

"I've told you once, " he said; "you might know I shouldn't change. I'vegot one or two little jobs to see to about Bouncing's funeral. Thatwoman's half a little cat and half an abject fool. Still, you can't helpfeeling a bit sorry for her. I dare say I can get things done bylunch-time; then I'll drive over the Fluella. I'll put up at the Kulm;but don't bother to write till you've got something settled. I'm notgoing to mess about saying good-by to people. You can tell Miss Riverswhen I'm gone. "

"Look here, " Lionel urged, "you can't do that; you must say good-by toher properly. She was awfully sick at your not turning up at the ball. After all, you know, you've seen a lot of her, and she particularlylikes you. You can't jump off into space, as if you were that old chapin the Bible without any beginning or any end!"

Winn stuck his hands in his pockets and looked immovably obstinate. 

"I'm damned if I do, " he replied. "Why should I? What's the use ofsaying good-by? The proper thing to do when you're going away is to go. You needn't linger, mewing about like somebody's pet kitten. "

Lionel poured out the whiskey before replying, and pushed a glass inWinn's direction; then he said:

"Don't be a fool, old chap; you'll have to say good-by to her. You don'twant to hurt her feelings. "

"What's it to you whether I hurt her feelings or not?" Winn askedsavagely. 

There was a moment's sharp tension. It dropped at the tone of Lionel'squiet voice. 

"It's a great deal to me, " he said steadily; "but I know it's not halfas much to me as it is to you, old Winn. "

"Oh, all right, " said Winn after a short pause. "I suppose I'll say itif you think I ought to. Only stand by if you happen to be anywhereabout. By the by, I hope I shall have some kind of a scrap with Roperbefore the morning's over. I shall enjoy that. Infernal little beast, Icaught him out last night. I can't tell you how; but unless he's off bythe eight o'clock to-morrow, he's in for punishment. "

Lionel laughed. 

"All right, " he said; "don't murder him. I'm going to turn in now. Sorryabout Bouncing. Did he have a bad time, poor chap?"

"No, " said Winn, "not really. He had a jolly sight harder time living;and yet I believe he'd have swopped with me at the end. Funny how littlewe know what the other fellow feels!"

"We can get an idea sometimes, " Lionel said in a queer voice, with hisback to his friend. Winn hastened to the door of his room. He knew thatLionel had an idea. He said, as he half closed the door on himself:

"Thanks awfully for the whiskey. "

CHAPTER XX

Unfortunately, Winn was not permitted the pleasure of punishing Mr. Roper in the morning. Mr. Roper thought the matter over for the greaterpart of an unpleasantly short night. He knew that he could prepare aperfect case, he could easily clear himself to his pupil, he could standby his guns, and probably even succeed in making Mrs. Bouncing stand byhers; but he didn't want to be thrashed. Whatever else happened, he knewthat he could not get out of this. Winn meant to thrash him, and Winnwould thrash him. People like Winn could not be manipulated; they couldonly be avoided. They weren't afraid of being arrested, and they didn'tcare anything about being fined. They damned the consequences of theirferocious acts; and if you happened to be one of the consequences andhad a constitutional shrinking from being damned, it was wiser to packearly and be off by an eight o'clock train. 

Winn was extremely disappointed at this decision; it robbed him ofsomething which, as he thought, would have cleared the air. However, hespent a busy morning in assisting Mrs. Bouncing. She was querulous andtearful and wanted better dressmakers and a more becoming kind ofmourning than it was easy to procure in Davos. It seemed to Winn as ifshe was under the impression that mourning was more important to afuneral than a coffin; but when it came to the coffin, she had terribleideas about lilies embroidered in silver, which upset Winn very much. 

Mr. Bouncing had always objected to lilies. He considered that theirheavy scent was rather dangerous. Mrs. Bouncing told Winn what everybodyin the hotel had suggested, and appeared to expect him to combine andcarry out all their suggestions, with several other contradictory onesof her own. 

During this crisis Maurice Rivers markedly avoided Mrs. Bouncing. Hefelt as if she might have prevented Mr. Bouncing's death just then. Itwas a failure of tact. He didn't like the idea of death, and he hadalways rather counted oh the presence of Mr. Bouncing. He was afraid hemight, with Mr. Bouncing removed, have gone a little too far. 

He explained his position to Winn, whom he met on one of his manyerrands. 

"One doesn't want to let oneself in for anything, you know, " heasserted. "I'm sure, as a man of the world, you'd advise me to keep outof it, wouldn't you? It's different for you, of course; you were poorBouncing's friend. "

Winn, whose temper was extremely ruffled, gave him a formidable glance. 

"You get into things a bit too soon, my boy, " he replied coldly, "andget out of 'em a bit too late. "

"Oh, come, you know, " said Maurice, jauntily, "I'm not responsible forpoor old Bouncing's death, am I?"

"I don't say you are, " Winn continued, without looking any pleasanter. "Bouncing had to die, and a jolly good thing for him it was when it cameoff; his life wasn't worth a row of pins. But I wasn't talking abouthim; I was talking about her. If you really want my advice, I'll tellyou plainly that if you want to go the pace, choose women one doesn'tmarry, don't monkey about with the more or less respectable ones whohave a right to expect you to play the game. It's not done, and it'sbeastly unfair. D' you see my point?"

Maurice wondered if he should be thoroughly angry or not. Suddenly itoccurred to him that Winn was waiting, and that he had better see hispoint and not be thoroughly angry. 

"Yes, I dare say I did go a little far, " he admitted, throwing out amanly chest; "but between you and me, Staines, should you say our friendMrs. B. _was_ respectable or not?"

"She isn't my friend, " said Winn, grimly; "but as she ought to be yours, I'll trouble you to keep your questions to yourself. "

The idea of being angry having apparently been taken out of Maurice'shands, he made haste to disappear into the hotel. 

Winn walked on into the village. It was the last time he intended to gothere. There was nothing peculiarly touching about the flat, long road, with the rink beneath it and the mountains above. The houses and shops, German pensions and crowded balconies had no particular charm. Even thetall, thin spire of the church lacked distinction; and yet it seemed toWinn that it would be difficult to forget. He stopped at the rink as hereturned to pick up his skates. He told himself that he was fortunatewhen he discovered Claire, with Lionel on one side of her and Ponsonbyon the other; he had wanted the help of an audience; now he was going tohave one. Claire saw him before the others did, and skated swiftlyacross to him. 

"But why don't you put your skates on?" she said, pointing to them inhis hand. "You're not much good there, you know, on the bank. "

"I'm not much good anywhere, as far as that goes, " said Winn, quickly, before the others came up. Then he said in a different voice, "I hopeyou enjoyed your dance last night. "

Claire paused the briefest moment before she answered him; it was as ifshe were trying quickly to change the key in which she spoke in order tomeet his wishes, and as if she did not want to change the key. 

"Yes, I did, " she said, "most awfully. It was a heavenly dance. I wasso sorry you couldn't come, but Captain Drummond told me why. "

Winn confounded Lionel under his breath for not holding his tongue; buthe felt a warmth stir in his heart at the knowledge that, no matter whatwas at stake, Lionel would not suffer the shadow of blame to attachitself to him. It had been one of Winn's calculations that Claire wouldbe annoyed at his disappointing her and think the less of him becauseshe was annoyed. He was not a clever calculator. 

"Of course I understood, " Claire went on; "you had to be with poor Mr. Bouncing. It was just like you to stay with him. " She had said a gooddeal, considering that Mr. Ponsonby and Lionel were there. Still, Winndid not misunderstand her. Of course she meant nothing. 

"Well, " he said, holding out his hand, "I'm extremely glad, Miss Rivers, to have run across you like this, because I'm off this afternoon to St. Moritz. I want to have a look at the Cresta. "

Claire ignored his outstretched hand. 

"Oh, " she cried a little breathlessly, "you're not going away, are you?But you'll come back again, of course?"

"I hope so, I'm sure, some day or other, " said Winn. Then he turned toPonsonby. "Have you been down the Cresta?" he asked. 

Mr. Ponsonby shook his head. 

"Not from Church Leap, " he replied. "I've got too much respect for mybones. It's awfully tricky; I've gone down from below it. You don't getsuch a speed on then. "

"Oh, Major Staines, you won't toboggan?" Claire cried out. "You know youmustn't toboggan! Dr. Gurnet said you mustn't. You won't, will you?Captain Drummond, aren't you going with him to stop him?"

Lionel laughed. 

"He isn't a very easy person to stop, " he answered her. "I'll join himlater on, of course; but I want to see a little more of Davos before Igo. "

"There isn't the slightest danger, " Winn remarked, without meetingClaire's eyes. "The Cresta's as safe as a church hassock. There isn'thalf the skill in tobogganing that there is in skating. Good-by, MissRivers. I never enjoyed anything as much as I enjoyed our skatingcompetition. I'm most grateful to you for putting up with me. "

Claire gave him her hand then, but Winn remembered afterward that shenever said good-by. She looked at him as if he had done something whichwas not fair. 

CHAPTER XXI

Winn's chief objection to St. Moritz was the shabby way in which itimitated Davos. It had all the same materials--endless snows, forests offir-trees, soaring peaks and the serene blueness of the skies--and yetas Davos it didn't in the least come off. It was more beautiful and lessdefinite; the peaks were nearer and higher; they streamed out around thevalley like an army with banners. The long, low lake and the small, perched villages, grossly overtopped by vulgar hotel palaces, had a farmore fugitive air. 

It was a place without a life of its own. Whatever character St. Moritzmight once have had was as lost as that of the most catholic of eveningladies in Piccadilly. 

Davos had had the dignity of its purpose; it had set out to heal. St. Moritz, on the contrary, set out to avoid healing. It was haunted bycrown princes and millionaire Jews, ladies with incredible ear-ringsand priceless furs; sharp, little, baffling trans-atlantic childrenthronged its narrow streets, and passed away from it as casually as acompany of tramps. 

There was this advantage for Winn: nobody wanted to be friendly unlessone was a royalty or a financial magnate. Winn was as much alone as ifhe had dropped from Charing Cross into the Strand. He smoked, read hispaper, and investigated in an unaccommodating spirit all that St. Moritzprovided; but he didn't have to talk. 

Winn was suffering from a not uncommon predicament: he had done theright thing at enormous cost, and he was paying for it, instead of beingpaid. Virtue had struck her usual hard bargain with her votaries. Shehad taken all he had to give, and then sent in a bill for damages. 

He was not in the least aware that he was unhappy, and often, for fiveor ten minutes at a time, he would forget Claire; afterward he wouldremember her, and that was worse. The unfortunate part of being made allof a piece is that if you happen to want anything, there is really nofiber of your being that doesn't want it. 

Winn loved in the same spirit that he rode and he always rode to afinish. In these circumstances and in this frame of mind, the Crestaoccurred to Winn in the light of a direct inspiration. No one could ridethe Cresta with any other preoccupation. 

Winn knew that he oughtn't to do it; he remembered Dr. Gurnet's advice, and it put an edge to his intention. If he couldn't have what he wanted, there would be a minor satisfaction in doing what he oughtn't. Thehomely adage of cutting off your nose to spite your face had never beenquestioned by the Staines family. They looked upon a nose as therechiefly for that purpose. It was a last resource to be drawn upon, whenthe noses of others appeared to be out of reach. 

There were, however, a few preliminary difficulties. No one was allowedto ride the Cresta without practice, and it was a part of Winn's plannot to be bothered with gradual stages. Only one man had ever been knownto start riding the Cresta from Church Leap without previous trials, andhis evidence was unobtainable as he was unfortunately killed during theexperiment. Since this adventure a stout Swiss peasant had been placedto guard the approaches to the run. Winn walked up to him during thedinner-hour, when he knew the valley was freest from possible intruders. 

"I want you to clear off, " he said to the man, offering him five francs, and pointing in the direction of St. Moritz. The peasant shook his head, retaining the five francs, and opening the palm of his other hand. Winnplaced a further contribution in it and said firmly:

"Now if you don't go I shall knock you down. " He shook his fist toreinforce the feebleness of his alien speech. The Swiss peasant steppedoff the path hurriedly into a snow-drift. He was a reasonable man, andhe did not grasp why one mad Englishman should wish to be killed, nor, for the matter of that, why others equally mad, should wish to preventit. So he walked off in the direction of St. Moritz and hid behind atree, reposing upon the deeply rooted instinct of not being responsiblefor what he did not see. 

Winn regarded the run methodically, placed his toboggan on the summitof the leap, and looked down at the thin, blue streak stretching intothe distance. The valley appeared to be entirely empty; there wasnothing visibly moving in it except a little distant smoke on the way toSamaden. The run looked very cold and very narrow; the nearest banksstood up like cliffs. 

Winn strapped a rake to his left foot, and calculated that the instanthe felt the ice under him he must dig into it, otherwise he would gostraight over the first bank. Then he crouched over his toboggan, threwhimself face downward, and felt it spring into the air. 

He kept no very definite recollection of the sixty-odd seconds thatfollowed. The ice rose up at him like a wall; the wind--he had notpreviously been aware of the faintest draught of air--cut into his eyesand forehead like fire. His lips blistered under it. 

He felt death at every dizzy, dwindling second--death knotted up andracketing, so imminent that he wouldn't have time to straighten himselfout or let go of his toboggan before he would be tossed out into theempty air. 

He remembered hearing a man say that if you fell on the Cresta anddidn't let go of your toboggan, it knocked you to pieces. His hands werefastened on the runners as if they were clamped down with iron. Thescratching of the rake behind him sounded appalling in the surroundingsilence. 

He shot up the first bank, shaving the top by the thinness of a hair, wobbled sickeningly back on to the straight, regained his grip, shot thenext bank more easily, and whirled madly down between the iron walls. Hefelt as if he were crawling slowly as a fly crawls up a pane of glass, in a buzzing eternity. 

Then he was bumped across the road and shot under the bridge. There wasa hill at the end of the run. As he flew up it he became for the firsttime aware of pace. The toboggan took it like a racing-cutter, and atthe top rose six feet into the air, and plunged into the nearestsnow-drift. 

Winn crawled out, feeling very sick and shaken, and as if every bone inhis body was misplaced. 

"Oh, you idiot! You idiot! you unbounded, God-forsaken idiot!" a voiceexclaimed in his ears. "You've given me the worst two minutes of mylife!"

Winn looked around him more annoyed than startled. He felt a greatdisinclination for speech and an increasing desire to sit down and keepstill; and he did not care to conduct a quarrel sitting down. 

However, a growing inability to stand up decided him; he dragged out histoboggan and sat on it. 

The speaker appeared round a bend of the run. She had apparently beenstanding in the path that overlooked a considerable portion of it. 

She was not a young woman, and from her complexion and the hardness ofher thickly built figure she might have been made of wood. 

She wore a short, strapped-in skirt, leather leggings, and afawn-colored sweater. Her eyes were a sharp, decided blue, and the restof her appearance matched the sweater. 

Winn pulled himself together. 

"I don't see, Madam, " he remarked slowly, but with extremeaggressiveness, "what the devil my actions have to do with you!"

"No, " said the lady, grimly, "I don't suppose from the exhibition I'vejust been watching, that you're in the habit of seeing farther than tothe end of your own nose. However, I may as well point out to you thatif you had killed yourself, as you richly deserved, and as you camewithin an ace of doing, the run would have been stopped for the season. We should all have been deprived of the Grand National, and I, who comeup here solely to ride the Cresta, which I have done regularly everywinter for twenty years, would have had my favorite occupation snatchedfrom me at an age when I could least afford to miss it. "

"I haven't been killed, and I had not the slightest intention of beingso, " Winn informed her with dangerous calm. "I merely wished to ride theCresta for the first time unobserved. Apparently I have failed in myintention. If so, it is my misfortune and not my fault. " He took out acigarette, and lit it with a steady hand, and turned his eyes away fromher. He expected her to go away, but, to his surprise, she spoke again. 

"My name, " she said, "is Marley. What is yours?"

"Staines, " Winn replied with even greater brevity. He had to give herhis name, but he meant it to be his last concession. 

"Ah, " she said thoughtfully, "that accounts for it. You're the image ofSir Peter, and you seem to have inherited not only his features, but hismanners. I needn't, perhaps, inform you that the latter were uniformlybad. I knew your father when I was a girl. He was stationed in Hong-Kongat the time and he was good enough to call me the little Chinese, nodoubt in reference to my complexion. Plain as I am now, I was a greatdeal plainer as a girl, though I dare say you wouldn't think it. "

Winn made no comment upon this doubtful statement; he merely grunted. His private opinion was that ladies of any age should not ride theCresta, and that ladies old enough to have known his father at Hong-Kongshould not toboggan at all. 

It was unsuitable, and she might have hurt herself; into these twopitfalls women should never fall. 

Miss Marley had a singularly beautiful speaking voice; it was as soft asvelvet. She dropped it half a tone, and said suddenly:

"Look here, don't do that kind of thing again. It's foolish. Peopledon't always get killed, you know; sometimes they get maimed. Forgiveme, but I thought I would just like to point it out to you. I could notbear to see a strong man maimed. "

Winn knew that it was silly and weak to like her just because of thetone of her voice, but he found himself liking her. He had a vaguedesire to tell her that he wouldn't do it again and that he had beenrather a fool; but the snow was behaving in a queer way all around him;it appeared to be heaving itself up. He said instead:

"Excuse me for sitting down like this. I've had a bit of a shake. I'llbe all right in a moment or two. " Then he fainted. 

Miss Marley stooped over him, opened his collar, laid him flat on theground--he had fallen in a heap on his toboggan--and chafed his wristsand forehead with snow. When she saw that he was coming round, she moveda little away from him and studied his toboggan. 

"If I were you, " she observed, "I should have these runners cut a littlefiner; they are just a shade too thick. "

Winn dragged himself on to the toboggan and wondered how his collar cameto be undone. When he did it up, he found his hands were shaking, whichamazed him very much. He looked a little suspiciously at his companion. 

"Of course, " Miss Marley continued pleasantly, "I ought to have thatwatchman discharged. I am a member of the Cresta committee, and hebehaved scandalously; but I dare say you forced him into it, so I shalljust walk up the hill and give him a few straight words. Probably youdon't know the dialect. I've made a point of studying it. If I were you, I should stay where you are until I come back. I want you to come to teawith me at Cresta. There's a particularly good kind of bun in thevillage, and I think I can give you some rather useful tobogganing tips. It isn't worth while your climbing up the hill just to climb down again, is it? Besides, you'd probably frighten the man. "

"Thanks, " said Winn. "All right; I'll stay. " He didn't want the Crestabun, and he thought that he resented Miss Marley's invitation; but, onthe other hand, he was intensely glad she was going off and leaving himalone. 

He felt uncommonly queer. Perhaps he could think of some excuse to avoidthe tea when she came back. 

All the muscles of his chest seemed to have gone wrong; it hurt him tobreathe. He sat with his head down, like a man climbing a hill against astrong wind. It was rather funny to feel ill again when he had reallyforgotten he was up there for his health. That was what he felt--ill. 

It was not nearly as painful a feeling as remembering Claire. Unfortunately, it was very quickly followed by the more painful feeling. 

When Miss Marley came back, he had the eyes of a creature caught in atrap. 

She took him to Cresta to tea, and it did not occur to Winn to wonderwhy a woman who at forty-five habitually rode the Cresta should find itnecessary to walk at the pace of a deliberating snail. It was a pacewhich at the moment suited Winn precisely. 

On the whole he enjoyed his tea. Miss Marley's manners, though abrupt, had certain fine scruples of their own. She showed no personal curiosityand she gave Winn some really valuable tips. He began to understand whyshe had so deeply resented his trifling with the Cresta. 

Miss Marley was one of the few genuine workers at St. Moritz, a memberof the old band who had worked devotedly to produce the Monster whichhad afterward as promptly devoured them. This fate, however, had not asyet overtaken Miss Marley. She was too tough and too rich to be veryeasily devoured. The Cresta was at once her child and her banner; shehad helped to make it, and she wound its folds around her as a screenfor her invisible kindnesses. 

Menaced boys could have told how she had averted their ruin with largechecks and sharp reproofs. She had saved many homes and covered manyscandals. For girls she had a special tenderness. She had never been abeautiful young girl, and she had a pathetic reverence for what wasfrail and fair. For them she had no reproofs, only vast mercy, andpatient skill in releasing them from the traps which had caught theirflurried young senses; but for those who had set the traps she had nomercy. 

Miss Marley was not known for any of these things. She was celebratedfor fights with chaplains and sanitary inspectors, and for an inabilityto give in to authority unless authority knew what it was about. She hadnever once tried to please, which is the foundation of charm. Perhaps itwould have been a useless effort, for she was not born to please. Shewas born to get things done. 

After Miss Marley had talked to Winn for an hour, she decided to get himto join the Bandy Club. He was the kind of man who must do something, and it was obviously better that he should not again tempt fate byriding the Cresta from Church Leap without practice. This course becameclearer to Miss Marley when she discovered that Winn had come up for hishealth. 

"Of course a fellow who wasn't seedy wouldn't have made an ass ofhimself over riding the Cresta, " Winn explained, eyeing herthoughtfully. 

He must have got somehow off his toboggan on to the snow, and he had norecollection at all of getting there. Miss Marley said nothing toenlighten him further. She merely suggested bandy. After dinner sheintroduced Winn to the captain of the St. Moritz team, and at threeo'clock the next afternoon she watched him play in a practice-match. 

Winn played with a concentrated viciousness which assured her of twothings: he would be an acquisition to the team, and if he felt as badlyas all that, it was just as well to get some of it worked off onanything as unresponsive as a ball. 

After this Miss Marley let him alone. She considered this the chieffactor in assisting the lives of others; and for nearly two hours a day, while he was playing bandy, Winn succeeded in not remembering Claire. 

CHAPTER XXII

Winn's way of playing bandy was to play as if there wasn't any ice. Inthe first few practices it had the disadvantage of a constant series offalls, generally upon the back of his head; but he soon developed anincreasing capacity of balance and an intensity of speed. He became thequickest forward the St. Moritz team had ever possessed. 

When he was following the ball he took up his feet and ran. The hardclash of the skates, the determined onrush of the broad-built, implacable figure, were terrible to withstand. What was to be doneagainst a man who didn't skate, but tore, who fell upon a ball as aterrier plunges, eyeless and intent, into a rat-hole? The personalsafety of himself or others never occurred to Winn. He rememberednothing but the rules of the game. These he held in the back of hismind, with the ball in front of it. 

All St. Moritz came to watch the great match between itself and Davos. It was a still, cold day; there was no blue in the sky; the mountainswere a hard black and white and the valley very colorless and clear. There was a hush of coming snow in the air, and the sky was covered by atoneless, impending cloud. 

The game, after a brief interval, became a duel between two men: Winn, with his headlong, thirsty method of attack, and the champion player ofDavos, Mavorovitch, who was known as the most finished skater of theseason. 

Mavorovitch never apparently lifted his skates, but seemed to send themforward by a kind of secret pressure. He was a very cool player, asquick as mercury and as light as thistledown. Winn set himself againsthim with the dogged fury of a bull against a toreador. 

"That man's not brave; he's careless, " a St. Moritz potentate remarkedto Miss Marley. Miss Marley gave a short laugh and glanced at Winn. 

"That's my idea of courage, " she said, "carelessness toward things thatdon't count. Major Staines isn't careless with the ball. "

"A game's a game, " the foreign prince protested, "not a prolongedinvitation to concussion. "

"All, that's where your foreign blood comes in, Your Highness, " arguedMiss Marley. "A game isn't a game to an Englishman; it's his way oftackling life. As a man plays so he reaps. "

"Very well, then, " remarked her companion, gravely. "Mark my words, Madame, your friend over there will reap disaster. "

Winn tackled the ball in a series of sudden formidable rushes; he hurledhimself upon the slight form of Mavorovitch, only to find he had beforehim a portion of the empty air. Mavorovitch was invariably a few inchesbeyond his reach, and generally in possession of the ball. 

Twice Winn wrested it forcibly from him and got half way up the ice, tearing along with his skates crashing their iron way toward the goal, and twice Mavorovitch noiselessly, except for a faint scraping, slid upbehind him and coaxed the ball out of his very grip. St. Moritz losttwo goals to nothing in the first half, and Winn felt as if he werebiting on air. 

He stood a little apart from the other players, with his back turned tothe crowd. He wished it wasn't necessary always to have an audience; alot of people who sat and did nothing irritated him. Mavorovitchirritated him, too. He did not like a man to be so quiet; the faint_click_, _click_ of Mavorovitch's skates on the ice was like a ladyknitting. 

The whistle sounded again, and Winn set upon the ball with redoubledfury. He had a feeling that if he didn't win this game he was going todislike it very much. He tore up the ice, every muscle strained, hisstick held low, caressing the round, flying knob in front; he had gotthe ball all right, the difficulty was going to be, to keep it. His mindlistened to the faint distant scraping of Mavorovitch's approach. Winnhad chosen the exact spot for slowing up for his stroke. 

It must be a long-distance shot or Mavorovitch would be there tointercept him, the longer, the safer, if he could get up speed enoughfor his swing. He had left the rest of the players behind him long ago, tossing some to one side and outflanking others; but he had not gotclear away from Mavorovitch, bent double, and quietly calculating, a fewfeet behind him, the exact moment for an intercepting spurt: and thenthrough the sharpness of the icy air and the sense of his own speed anextraordinary certainty flashed into Winn. He was not alone; Claire wasthere. He called it a fancy, but he knew it was a certainty. A burningjoy seized him, and a new wild strength poured into him. He could doanything now. 

He drew up suddenly, long before the spot he had fixed upon as a certainstroke, lifted his arm, and struck with all his might. It was a long, doubtful, crossing stroke, almost incredibly distant from the goal. 

The crowd held its breath as the ball rose, cutting straight above thegoal-keeper's head, through the very center of the goal. 

Winn was probably the only person there who didn't follow its flight. Helooked up quickly at the bank above him, and met her eyes. She was asjoined to him as if they had no separate life. 

In a moment it struck him that there was nothing else to do but to go toher at once, take her in his arms, and walk off with her somewhere intothe snow. He knew now that he had been in hell; the sight of her waslike the sudden cessation of blinding physical pain. 

Then he pulled himself together and went back to the game. He couldn'tthink any more, but the new activity in him went on playing methodicallyand without direction. 

Mavorovitch, who was playing even more skilfully and swiftly, got thebetter of him once or twice; but the speed that had given Winn room forhis great stroke flowed tirelessly through him. It seemed to him as ifhe could have outpaced a Scotch express. 

He carried the ball off again and again out of the mob of hisassailants. They scattered under his rushes like creatures made ofcardboard. He offered three goals and shot one. The cheering of the St. Moritzers sounded in his ears as if it were a long way off. He saw thedisappointed, friendly grin of little Mavorovitch as the last whistlesettled the match at five goals to four against Davos, but everythingseemed cloudy and unreal. He heard Mavorovitch say:

"Spooner never told us he had a dark horse over here. I must say I amdisappointed. Until half-time I thought I should get the better of you;but how did you get that devilish spurt on? Fierce pace tires, but youwere easier to tire when you began. "

Winn's eyes wandered over the little man beside him. 

"Oh, I don't know, " he said good-naturedly; he had never in his lifefelt so good-natured. "I suppose I thought we were getting beaten. Thatrather braces one up, doesn't it?"

"Ah, that is you English all over, " laughed Mavorovitch. "We have asaying, 'In all campaigns the English lose many battles, but they alwayswin one--namely, the last. '"

"I'm sure it's awfully jolly of you to say so, " said Winn. "You play apretty fine game yourself, you know, considerably more skill in it thanmine. I had no idea you were not English yourself. "

Mavorovitch seemed to swim away into a mist of laughter, people receded, the bank receded; at last he stood before her. Winn thought she was alittle thinner in the face and her eyes were larger than ever. He couldnot take his own away from her; he had no thoughts, and he forgot tospeak. 

Everybody was streaming off to tea. The rink was deserted; it lay along, gray shadow beneath the high, white banks. The snow had begun tofall, light, dry flakes that rested like powder on Claire's curly hair. She waited for him to speak; but as he still said nothing, she askedwith a sudden dimple:

"Where does this path lead to?"

Then Winn recollected himself, and asked her if she didn't want sometea. Claire shook her head. 

"Not now, " she said decidedly; "I want to go along this path. "

Winn obeyed her silently. The path took them between dark fir-trees tothe farthest corner of the little park. Far below them a small streamran into the lake, it was frozen over, but in the silence they couldhear it whispering beneath the ice. The world was as quiet as if it layin velvet. Then Claire said suddenly:

"Oh, why did you make me hurt him when I liked him so much?"

They found a bench and sat down under the trees. 

"Do you mean you've sent Lionel away?" Winn asked anxiously. 

"Yes, " she said in a forlorn little voice; "yesterday I sent him away. He didn't know I was coming over here, he was very miserable. He askedme if I knew about you--he said he believed you wanted me to--and Isaid, 'Of course I know everything. ' I wasn't going to let him think youhadn't told me. Why did you go away?"

He had not thought she would ask him that. It was as if he saw beforehim an interminable hill which he had believed himself to have alreadyclimbed. 

He drew a deep breath, then he said:

"Didn't they talk about it? I wrote to her, the chaplain's wife I mean;I hadn't time to see her, but I sent it by the porter. I thought she'ddo; she seemed a gossipy woman, kept on knitting and gassing over astove in the hall. I thought she was--a sort of circulating library, yousee. I tipped the porter--tow-headed Swiss brute. I suppose he swallowedit. "

"He went away the same day you did, " Claire explained. "Nobody told meanything. Do you think I would have let them? I wouldn't let Lionel, andI knew he had a right to, but I didn't care about anybody's rights. Yousee, I--I thought you'd tell me yourself. So I came, " she finishedquietly. 

She waited. Winn began to draw patterns on the snow with his stick, thenhe said:

"I've been a bit of a blackguard not telling you myself. I didn't wantto talk about it, and that's a fact. I'm married. "

He kept his face turned away from her. It seemed a long time before shespoke. 

"You should have told me that before, " she said in a queer, low voice. "It's too late now. "

"Would it, " he asked quickly, "have made any difference--about Lionel, Imean?"

She shook her head. 

"Not, " she said, "about Lionel. "

He bent lower over the pattern in the snow; it had become moreintricate. 

"I couldn't tell you, " he muttered; "I tried. I couldn't. That was why Iwent off. You say too late. D'you mind telling me if you mean--youcare?"

Her silence seemed interminable, and then he knew she had alreadyanswered him. It seemed to him that if he sat there and died, hecouldn't speak. 

"Winn, " she asked in a whisper, "did you go because of me--or because ofyou?"

He turned round, facing her. 

"Is that worrying you?" he asked fiercely. "Well, you can see foryourself, can't you? All there is of me--" He could not finish hissentence. 

It was snowing heavily. They seemed intensely, cruelly alone. It was asif all life crept off and left them by themselves in the drifting graysnow, in their silent little corner of the unconscious, unalterableworld. 

Winn put his arm around her and drew her head down on his shoulder. 

"It's all right, " he said rather thickly. "I won't hurt you. "

But he knew that he had hurt her, and that it was all wrong. 

She did not cry, but she trembled against his heart. He felt hershivering as if she were afraid of all the world but him. 

"I must stay with you, " she whispered. "I must stay with you, mustn'tI?"

He tried not to say "always, " but he thought afterward that he must havesaid "always. "

Then she lifted her curls and her little fur cap with the snow on itfrom his shoulder, and looked deep into his eyes. The worst of it wasthat hers were filled with joy. 

"Winn, " she said, "do you love me enough for anything? Not only forhappiness, but, if we had to have dreadful things, enough for dreadfulthings?"

She spoke of dreadful things as if they were outside her, and as if theywere very far away. 

"I love you enough for anything, " said Winn, gravely. 

"Tell me, " she whispered, "did you ever even think--you liked her asmuch?"

Winn looked puzzled; it took him a few minutes to guess whom she meant, then he said wonderingly:

"My wife, you mean?"

Claire nodded. It was silly how the little word tore its way into hervery heart; she had to bite her lips to keep herself from crying out. She did not realize that the word was meaningless to him. 

"No, " said Winn, gravely; "that's the worst of it. I must have been outof my head. It was a fancy. Of course I thought it was all right, but Ididn't _care_. It was fun rather than otherwise; you know what I mean?I'm afraid I gave her rather a rotten time of it; but fortunately shedoesn't like me at all. It's not surprising. "

"Yes, it is, " said Claire, firmly; "it's very surprising. But if shedoesn't care for you, and you don't care for her, can't anything bedone?"

There is something cruel in the astonishing ease with which youthbelieves in remedial measures. It is a cruelty which reacts so terriblyupon its possessors. 

Winn hesitated; then he told her that he would take her to the ends ofthe world. Claire pushed away the ends of the world; they did not soundvery practical. 

"I mean, " she said, "have you got to consider anybody else? Of coursethere's Maurice and your people, I've thought of them. But I don't thinkthey'd mind so awfully always, do you? It wouldn't be like robbing orcheating some one who really needed us. We couldn't do that, of course. "

Then Winn remembered Peter. He told her somehow that there was Peter. Hehid his face against her breast while he told her; he could not bear tosee in her eyes this new knowledge of Peter. 

But she was very quiet about it; it was almost as if she had alwaysknown that there was Peter. 

Winn spoke very wildly after that; he denied Peter; he denied anyobstacles; he spoke as if they were already safely and securely married. He explained that they had to be together; that was the long and shortof it. Anything else was absurd; she must see that it was absurd. 

Claire didn't interrupt him once; but when he had quite finished, shesaid consideringly:

"Yes; but, after all, she gave you Peter. "

Then Winn laughed, remembering how Estelle had given him Peter. Hecouldn't explain to Claire quite how funny it was. 

She bore his laughter, though it surprised her a little; there seemed tobe so many new things to be learned about him. Then she said:

"Anyway, we can be quite happy for a fortnight, can't we?"

Winn raised his head and looked at her. It was his turn to be surprised. 

"Maurice and I, " she explained, "have to go back in two weeks; we'vecome over here for the fortnight. So we'll just be happy, won't we? Andwe can settle what we'll do afterward, at the end of the time. "

She spoke as if a fortnight was a long time. Then Winn kissed her; hedid it with extraordinary gentleness, on the side of her cheek and onher wet curls covered with snow. 

"You're such a baby, " he said half to himself; "so it isn't a bit of useyour being as old as the hills the other part of the time. There arejust about a million reasons why you shouldn't stay, you know. "

"Oh, reasons!" said Claire, making a face at anything so trivial as areason. Then she became very grave, and said, "I _want_ to stay, Winn;of course I know what you mean. But there's Maurice; it isn't as if Iwere alone. And afterwards--oh, Winn, it's because I don't know what isgoing to happen afterwards--I _must_ have now!"

Winn thought for a moment, then he said:

"Well, I'll try and work it. You mustn't be in the same hotel, though. Fortunately, I know a nice woman who'll help us through; only, darling, I'm awfully afraid it's beastly wrong for you. I mean I can't explainproperly; but if I let you go now, it would be pretty sickening. Butyou'd get away; and if you stay, I'll do the best I can but we shall getmixed up so that you'll find it harder to shake me off. You see, you'reawfully young; there are chances ahead of you, awfully decent otherchaps, marriage--"

"And you, " she whispered--"you?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter a damn about me either way, " he explainedcarefully. "I'm stuck. But it isn't really fair of me to let you stay. You don't understand, but it simply isn't fair. "

Claire looked reproachfully at him. 

"If I don't want you to be fair, " she said, "you oughtn't to want tobe--not more than I do, I mean. Besides--Oh, Winn, I do know about whenI go! That's why I _can't_ go till we've been happy, awfully happy, _first_. Don't you see, if I went now, there'd be nothing to look backon but just your being hurt and my being hurt; and I want happiness! Oh, Winn, I want happiness!"

That was the end of it. He took her in his arms and promised herhappiness. 

PART III

CHAPTER XXIII

It seemed incredible that they should be happy, but from the first oftheir fortnight to the last they were increasingly, insanely happy. Everything ministered to their joy; the unstinted blue and gold of theskies, the incommunicable glee of mountain heights, their blind andeager love. 

There was no future. They were on an island cut off from all to-morrows;but they were together, and their island held the fruits of theHesperides. 

They lived surrounded by light passions, by unfaithfulnesses that hadnot the sharp excuses of desire, bonds that held only because they wouldrequire an effort to break and bonds that were forged only because itwas easier to pass into a new relation than to continue in an old one. Their solid and sober passion passed through these light fleets ofpleasure-boats as a great ship takes its unyielding way toward deepwaters. 

Winn was spared the agony of foresight; he could not see beyond hersparkling eyes; and Claire was happy, exultantly, supremely happy, withthe reckless, incurious happiness of youth. 

It was terrible to see them coming in and out with their joy. Theirfaces were transfigured, their eyes had the look of sleep-walkers, theymoved as through another world. They had only one observer, and to MissMarley the sight of them was like the sight of those unknowinglycondemned to die. St. Moritz in general was not observant. It hadgossips, but it did not know the difference between true and false, temporary and permanent. It had one mold for all its fancies: given aman and a woman, it formed at once its general and monotonousconjecture. 

Maurice might have noticed Claire's preoccupation, for Maurice wassensitive to that which touched himself, but for the moment a group moreexpensive and less second rate than he had discovered at Davos took uphis entire attention. He had none to spare for his sister unless shebothered him, and she didn't bother him. 

It was left to Miss Marley to watch from hour to hour the significantand rising chart of passion. The evening after the Davos match, Winn hadknocked at the door of her private sitting-room. It was his intentiononly to ask her if she would dine with some friends of his from Davos;he would mention indifferently that they were very young, a mere boy andgirl, and he would suggest with equal subtlety that he would be obligedif Miss Marley would continue to take meals at his table during theirvisit. St. Moritz, he saw himself saying, was such a place for talk. There was no occasion to go into anything, and Miss Marley would, ofcourse, have no idea how matters really stood. She was a good sort, buthe wasn't going to talk about Claire. 

Miss Marley said, "Come in, " in that wonderful, low, soft voice of hersthat came so strangely from her blistered lips. She was sitting in a lowchair, smoking, in front of an open wood fire. 

Her room was furnished by herself. It was a comfortable, featurelessroom, with no ornaments and no flowers; there were plenty of books incases or lying about at ease on a big table, a stout desk by the window, and several leather-covered, deep armchairs. The walls were bare exceptfor photographs of the Cresta. These had been taken from every possibleangle of the run--its banks, its corners, its flashing pieces ofstraight, and its incredible final hill. It was noticeable that thoughthere was generally a figure on a toboggan in the photograph, it neverhappened to be one of Miss Marley herself. She was a creditable rider, but she did not, to her own mind, show off the Cresta. 

Her eyes met Winn's with a shrewdness that she promptly veiled. Hewasn't looking as if he wanted her to be shrewd. It struck her that shewas seeing Winn as he must have looked when he was about twenty. Shewondered if this was only because he had won the match. His eyes werevery open and they were off their guard. It could not be said that Winnhad ever in his life looked appealing, but for a Staines to look soexposed to friendliness was very nearly an appeal. 

"Mavorovitch has just left me, " said Miss Marley. "You ought to haveheard what he said about you. It was worth hearing. You played thisafternoon like a successful demon dealing with lost souls. I don't thinkI've ever seen bandy played quite in that vein before. "

Winn sank into one of the leather armchairs and lighted a cigarette. 

"As a matter of fact, " he said, "I played like a fluke. I am not up toMavorovitch's form at all. I just happened to be on my game; he wouldhave had me down and out otherwise. "

Miss Marley nodded; she was wondering what had put Winn on his game. Sheturned her eyes away from him and looked into the fire. Winn was restingfor the first time that day; the sense of physical ease and her even, tranquil comradeship were singularly soothing to him. Suddenly itoccurred to him that he very much liked Miss Marley, and in a way inwhich he had never before liked any woman, with esteem and withoutexcitement. He gave her a man's first proof of confidence. 

"Look here, " he said, "I want you to help me. "

Miss Marley turned her eyes back to him; she was a plain woman, but shewas able to speak with her eyes, and though what she said was sometimeshard and always honest, on the present occasion they expressed only anintense reassurance of good-will. 

"When I came in, " Winn said rather nervously, "I meant to ask you alittle thing, but I find I am going to ask you a big one. "

"Oh, well, " said Miss Marley, "ask away. Big or little, friends shouldstand by each other. "

"Yes, " said Winn, relieved, "that's what I thought you'd say. I don'tknow that I ever mentioned to you I'm married?"

"No, " she answered quietly, "I can't say that you did; however, most menof your age are married. "

"And I've got a son, " Winn continued. "His name is Peter--after myfather, you know. "

"That's a good thing, " she concurred heartily. "I'm glad you've got ason. "

"Unfortunately, " said Winn, "my marriage didn't exactly come off. We gothold of the wrong end of the stick. "

"Ah, " said Miss Marley, "that's a pity! The right end of the stick is, Ibelieve, almost essential in marriage. "

"Yes, " Winn acknowledged; "I see that now, of course. I was keen ongetting her, but I hadn't thought the rest out. Rather odd, isn't it, that you don't get as much as a tip about how jolly a thing could betill you've dished yourself from having it?"

Miss Marley agreed that it was rather odd. 

Winn came back swiftly to his point. 

"What I was going to ask you, " he said, holding her with his eyes, "isto sit at my table for a bit. I happen to have two young friends of mineover from Davos. He's her brother, of course, but I thought I'd like tohave another woman somewhere about. Look better, wouldn't it? She's onlynineteen. "

His voice dropped as he mentioned Claire's age as if he were speaking ofthe Madonna. 

"Yes, " agreed Miss Marley, "it would look better. "

"I dare say, " said Winn after rather a long pause, "you see what I mean?The idea is--our idea, you know--to be together as much as we can for afortnight. It'll be all right, of course; only I rather wondered ifyou'd see us through. "

"See you through being all right?" Miss Marley asked with the directnessof a knife-thrust. 

"Well--yes, " said Winn. "It would just put people off thinking things. Everybody seems to know you up here, and I somehow thought I'd ratheryou knew. "

"Thank you, " said Miss Marley, briefly. 

She turned back to the fire again. She had seen all she wanted to see inWinn's eyes. She saw his intention. What she wasn't sure about was thefortnight. A fortnight can do a good deal with an intention. 

Miss Marley knew the world very well. People had often wanted to use herfor a screen before, and generally she had refused, believing that thechief safeguard of innocence is the absence of screens. But she saw thatWinn did not want her to be that kind of a screen; he wanted her to bein the center of his situation without touching it. He wanted her forClaire, but he wanted her also a little for himself, so that he mightfeel the presence of her upright friendliness. He intensely trusted her. 

There are people who intend to do good in the world and invariably doharm. They enter eagerly into the lives of others and put their fingerspressingly upon delicate machinery; very often they destroy it, moreseldom, unfortunately, they cut their own fingers. Miss Marley did notbelong to this type. She did not wish to be involved and she wasscrupulous never to involve others. She hesitated before she gave herconsent, but she couldn't withstand the thought that Claire was onlynineteen. She spoke at last. 

"What you suggest, " she said quietly, "is going to be rather hard foryou both. I suppose you do realize how hard? You see, you are only atthe beginning of the fortnight now. Unhappy men and very young girlsmake difficult situations, Major Staines. "

He got up and walked to the window, standing with his back to her. Shewondered if she had said too much; his back looked uncompromising. Shedid not realize that she could never say too much in the defense ofClaire. Then he said, without looking round:

"We shall have to manage somehow. "

It occurred to Miss Marley, with a wave of reassurance, that this wasprobably Winn's usual way of managing. 

"In any case, " she said firmly, "you can count on me to do anything youwish. "

Winn expressed no gratitude. He merely said:

"I shall introduce her to you this evening. "

Before he left Miss Marley he shook hands with her. Her hands were hardand muscular, but she realized when she felt his grip that he must havebeen extremely grateful. 

CHAPTER XXIV

They went out early, before the sun was up, when the valley was anapricot mist and the mountains were as white as snowdrops in the spring. The head waiter fell easily into their habits, and provided them with anearly breakfast and a parcel for lunch. Then they drove off through thebiting, glittering coldness. 

Sometimes they went far down the valley to Sils and on to the verge ofthe Maloja. Sometimes they drove through the narrower valleys toPontresina and on into the impenetrable winter gloom of the Mortratschglacier. The end was the same solitude, sunshine, and their love. Theworld was wrapped away in its winter stillness. The small Swiss villagesslept and hardly stirred. In the hot noonday a few drowsy peasants creptto and from the barns where the cattle passed their winter life. Sometimes a woman labored at a frozen pump, or a party of skiersslipped rapidly through the shady streets, rousing echoes with theirlaughter; but for the most part they were as much alone as if the worldhad ceased to hold any beings but themselves. The pine-trees scented allthe air, the snow dripped reluctantly, and sometimes far off they heardthe distant boom of an avalanche. They sat together for long sunlithours on the rickety wooden balcony of a friendly hospice, drinking hotspiced _glüwein_ and building up their precarious memories. 

There were moments when the hollow present snapped under their feet likea broken twig, and then the light in their eyes darkened and they ranout upon the safer path of make-believe. 

It was Winn who, curiously enough, began it, and returned to itoftenest. It came to him, this abolishing of Estelle, always more easilythan it came to Claire. It was inconceivable to Claire that Winn didn't, as a rule, remember his wife. She could have understood the tragedy ofhis marriage, but Winn didn't make a tragedy of it, he made nothing ofit at all. It seemed terrible to Claire that any woman, bearing hisname, the mother of his child, should have no life in his heart. Shefound herself resenting this for Estelle. She tried to make Winn talkabout her, so that she might justify her ways to him. But Winn went nofurther in his expressions than the simple phrases, "She's not my sort, ""We haven't anything in common, " "I expect we didn't hit it off. "Finally he said, terribly, under the persistency of Claire's pressure, "Well, if you will have it, I don't believe a single word she says. "

"Oh, but sometimes, sometimes she must speak the truth!" Claire urged, breathless with pity. 

"I dare say, " Winn replied indifferently. "Possibly she does, but whatdifference does it make to me when I don't know which times?"

Claire waited a little, then she said:

"I wasn't thinking of the difference to you; I was thinking of thedifference to her. "

"I tell you, " Winn repeated obstinately, "that I don't care a hang aboutthe difference to her. People shouldn't tell lies. I don't care that forher!" He snapped a crumb off the table. He looked triumphantly atClaire, under the impression that he had convinced her of a pleasingfact. She burst into tears. 

He tried to take her in his arms, but for a moment she resisted him. 

"Do you _want_ me to love Estelle?" he asked in desperation. 

Claire shook her head. 

"I'd like her--to be loved, " she said, still sobbing. 

Winn looked wonderingly at her. 

"Well, as far as that goes, so would I, " he observed, with a sardonicgrin. "There'd be some way out for us then. "

Claire shook her head vehemently, but she made no attempt to explain hertears. She felt that she couldn't alter him, and that when he mostsurprised her it was wiser to accept these surprises than to probe herdeep astonishment. 

He surprised her very often, he was in such a hurry to unburden himselfof all he was. It seemed to him as if he must tell her everything whilehe had her. He expressed himself as he had never in his wildest dreamssupposed that any man could express himself to another human being. Hebroke down his conventions, he forced aside his restraint, he literallypoured out his heart to her. He gave her his opinions, his religion, hiscodes of conduct, until she began a little to understand his attitudetoward Estelle. 

It was part of his exterior way of looking at the world at large. Uptill now people, except Lionel, had never really entered into hisimagination. Of course there were his servants and his dogs and, nearerstill, his horses. He spent hours telling her about his horses. Theyreally had come into his life, but never people; even his own familywere nothing but a background for wrangles. 

He had never known tenderness. He had had all kinds of odd feelingsabout Peter, but they hadn't got beyond his own mind. His tenderness wasbeyond everything now; it over-flowed expression. It was the radicalthing in him. He showed her plainly that it would break his heart if shewere to let her feet get wet. He made plans for her future which wouldhave suited a chronic invalid. He wanted to give her jewels, expensivespecimens of spaniels, and a banking account. 

She would take nothing from him but a notebook and a little opal ring. Winn restrained his passion, but out of revenge for his restraint hisfancies ran wild. 

It was Claire who had to be practical; she who had spent her youth indreams now clung desperately to facts. She read nothing, she hardlytalked, but she drew his very soul out to meet her listening soul. Therewere wonders within wonders to her in Winn. She had hardly forcedherself to accept his hardness when she discovered in him a tolerancedeeper than anything she had ever seen, and an untiring patience. He hadpulled men out of holes only to see them run back into them with theswiftness of burrowing rabbits; but nothing made him feel as if he couldpossibly give them up. 

"You can't tell how many new starts a man wants, " he explained toClaire; "but he ought to have as many as he can take. As long as a manwants to get on, I think he ought to be helped. "

His code about a man's conduct to women was astonishingly drastic. 

"If you've let a woman in, " he explained, "you've got to strip yourselfto get her out, no matter whether you care for her or not. The moment awoman gets caught out, you can't do too much for her. It's like seeing adog with a tin can tied to its tail; you've got to get it off. A manought to pay for his fun; even if it isn't his fault, he ought to payjust the same. It's not so much that he's the responsible person, buthe's the least _had_. That ought to settle the question. "

He was more diffident, but not less decided, on the subject of religion. 

"If there's a God at all, " he stated, "He must be good; otherwise youcan't explain goodness, which doesn't pay and yet always seems worthhaving. You know what I mean. Not that I am a religious man myself, butI like the idea. Women certainly ought to be religious. "

He hoped that Claire would go regularly to church unless it wasdraughty. 

It was on the Bernina, when they were nine thousand feet up in a bluesky, beyond all sight or sound of life, in their silent, private world, that they talked about death. 

"Curious, " Winn said, "how little you think about it when you're upagainst it. I shouldn't like to die of an illness. That's all I've everfelt about it; that would be like letting go. I don't think I could letgo easily; but just a proper, decent knock-out--why, I don't believeyou'd know anything about it. I never felt afraid of chucking it, till Iknew you, now I'm afraid. "

Claire looked at his strong hands in the sunshine and at her own whichlay on his; they looked so much alive! She tried hard to think aboutdeath, because she knew that some day everybody must die; but she feltas if she was alive forever. 

"Yes, " she said; "of course I suppose we _shall_. But, Winn, don't youthink that we could send for each other then? Wouldn't that besplendid?"

The idea of death became suddenly a shortening of the future; it waslike something to look forward to. Winn nodded gravely, but he didn'tseem to take the same comfort in it that Claire did. He only said:

"I dare say we could manage something. But you feel all right, don'tyou?"

Claire laughed until something in his grave eyes hurt her behind herlaughter. 

The sky changed from saffron to dead blue and then to startling rosecolor. Flame after flame licked the Bernina heights. Their sleigh-bellsrang persistently beneath them. They drank their coffee hurriedly whilethe sun sank out of the valley, and the whole world changed into an icylight. 

They drove off rapidly down the pass, wrapped in furs and clinging toeach other. They did not know what anything would mean when they wereapart. The thought of separation was like bending from a sunny worldover a well of darkness. Claire cried a little, but not very much. Shenever dared let herself really cry because of what might happen to Winn. 

It surprised him sometimes how little she tried to influence his futurelife. She did not make him promise anything except to go to see Dr. Gurnet. He wondered afterward why she had left so much to his discretionwhen he had made so many plans, and urgent precautions for her future;and yet he knew that when she left him he would be desperate enough tobreak any promises and never desperate enough to break her trust in him. Suddenly he said to her as the darkness of the pass swallowed them:

"Look here, I won't take to drink. I'd like to, but I won't. " And Claireleaned toward him and kissed him, and he said a moment later, with alittle half laugh:

"D'you know, I rather wish you hadn't done that. You never have before, and I sha'n't be able to forget it. You put the stopper on to thatintention. "

And Claire said nothing, smiling into the darkness. 

CHAPTER XXV

Claire had never been alone with Miss Marley before; she had known heronly as an accompaniment to Winn; but she had been aware, even in thesepartial encounters, that she was being benevolently judged. It must beowned that earlier in the day she had learned, with a sinking of theheart, that she must give up the evening to Miss Marley. When every hourcounted as a victory over time, she could not understand how Winn couldlet her go; and yet he had said quite definitely: "I want you to go toMiss Marley this evening. She'd like to talk to you, and I think you'dbetter. "

But something happened which changed her feelings. Miss Marley was awoman despite the Cresta and there are times when only a woman'sjudgment can satisfy the heart of a girl. Claire was startled andperturbed by Maurice's sudden intervention. Maurice said:

"That chap Staines is getting you talked about. Pretty low down of him, as I believe he's married. " She was pulled up short in the golden streamof her love. She saw for the first time the face of opinion--thathostile, stupid, interfering face. Claire had never thought that by anymalign possibility they could be supposed to be doing wrong. She couldnot connect wrong with either her love or Winn's. If there was onequality more than another which had distinguished it, it had been itssimple sense of rightness. She had seen Winn soften and change under itas the hard earth changes at the touch of spring. She had felt herselfenriched and enlarged, moving more unswervingly than ever toward heroldest prayer--that she might, on the whole, be good. She hardly prayedat all about Winn; loving him was her prayer. 

If she had meant to take him away from Estelle or to rob him of Peter, then she knew she would have been wrong. But in this fortnight she wastaking nothing from Estelle that Estelle had ever had, and she was doingno harm to Peter. It would not be likely to do him any harm to softenhis father's heart. 

Claire's morality consisted solely in the consideration of other people;her instincts revolted against unkindness. It was an early Christiantheory much lost sight of, "Love, and do as you please, " the safety ofthe concession resting upon the quality of the love. 

But to-night another idea had occurred to her, and she was very uneasy. Was it really possible that any one could blame Winn? Her first instincthad been sheer anger, and her anger had carried her past fear into thepride of love. She had felt as if she wanted to confront the world anddefy it. If the world dared judge them, what did it matter? Their heartswere clean. She was too young to know that under the world's judgmentsclean hearts break even more easily than soiled ones. 

But her mind had not rested there. She had begun to be afraid for Winn, and with all her heart she longed to see him justified. What had he everdone that he could be judged? He had loved her, spared her, guarded her. He had made, he was making, inconceivable sacrifices for her. He waskilling not only his own joy, but hers rather than do her what hethought a wrong. 

She sat on a footstool in front of Miss Marley's wood fire, frowning atthe flames. Miss Marley watched her cautiously; there was a good dealshe wanted to say, but she hoped that most of it might be said byClaire. A very careful talker can get a good deal expressed in this way;impressions, to be permanent, must always come from the person you wishto impress. 

"Miss Marley, " Claire began, "do you think it matters what people_think_?"

Miss Marley, who invariably rolled her own cigarettes, took up a smallsilver box, flattened the cigarette-paper out carefully, and prepared tofill it before answering. Then she said:

"Very few people do think; that is generally what matters--absence ofthought. Speech without thought is responsible for most people'sdisasters. "

"But it can't matter what people say if it isn't true, can it?" Clairepersisted. "I mean--_nonsense_ can't _count_ against any one?"

"I'm rather afraid it does matter, " said Miss Marley, lighting hercigarette. "Nonsense is very infectious, and it often carries a gooddeal of weight. I have known nonsense break people's hearts. "

"Oh!" said Claire in a rising breath. She was wondering what it was liketo have a broken heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew thatshe was going to have one, half of one; but what really frightened herwas that the other half was going to belong to Winn. 

"Could any one, " she said under her breath, "think any harm of him? Hetold me you knew all about us, and that I might talk to you if I wantedto; but I didn't then. There didn't seem anything to say. But now I dowant to know; I want to know awfully what you think. If I asked him, he'd only laugh or else he'd be angry. He's very young in some ways, youknow, Miss Marley--younger than I am. "

"Yes, " agreed Miss Marley; "men are always, to the end of their lives, very young in some ways. "

"I never thought, " Claire went on breathlessly, "that people would dreamof blaming him because we were together. Why, it's so stupid! If theyonly knew! He's so good!"

"If he's that, " said Miss Marley, smiling into the fire, "you'vesucceeded in making a saint of a Staines, a very difficult experiment! Ishouldn't advise you to run away too much with that idea, however. "

"It isn't me; it's him, " exclaimed Claire, regardless of grammar. "Imean, after what Maurice said this afternoon--I don't know how to put itquite--I almost wish we'd both been bad!"

Miss Marley nodded. She knew the danger of blame when a tug of war is inprogress, and how it weakens the side attacked. 

"How can I explain to people, " Claire went on, "what he's been like? Idon't know whether I've told you, but he went away almost directly hefound out he cared, before--long before he knew I cared, though he mighthave known; and he left a message to tell me about his wife, which Inever got. But, oh, Miss Marley, I've never told him, I should have comeif I'd got it or not! I should really, because I _had_ to know if hecared! So you see, don't you, that if either of us was wicked it wasme? Only I didn't _feel_ wicked; I really felt awfully good. I don't seehow you're to tell what's right if God doesn't let you know and peopletalk nonsense. "

"It's not, " agreed Miss Marley, dryly, "particularly easy to know. "

"And his wife doesn't care for him, " Claire went on. "Fancy Winn's wifenot caring for him! Poor woman!"

"Why do you pity her?" Miss Marley inquired with interest. 

"Well, " said Claire, with a sudden dimple, "I was only thinking Ishouldn't like to be Winn's wife if he didn't care for me; and then Iwas thinking that if he didn't, I'd make him!"

"Well, that effort doesn't seem required of you, " said Miss Marley. 

"No, but it only shows you that I'm much the most wicked, doesn't it?"asked Claire, with some pride. 

"The points against Winn, " Miss Marley said gravely, "are his age, hisexperience, and his wife. I feel bound to tell you that there are pointsagainst him. "

Claire frowned. 

"Winn isn't really old, " she explained, "because he's only done thingsall his life--games or his work; it hasn't been people. People make youold, especially when you are looking after them. He's never really grownup; and as for experience, I don't think you experience anything unlessyou care about it. It hurts me sometimes to hear him talk about hiswife. He's never _had_ her; he's only had me. I don't explain very well, but I know it's true, because he told me things about loving whichshowed me he'd never had anything before except dogs--and Peter; andPeter's awfully young, and dogs can't answer back. You can't grow up ondogs. "

Miss Marley tacitly admitted the limitations of canine influence; butshe said:

"Still, you know, he's not kept to his own code; that's what one mustjudge people by. I'm sure he'd tell you himself that a married manshould leave girls alone. "

Claire thought for a moment, then she said:

"Yes, but he's gone deeper than his code now. Don't you think thatperhaps a smash, even of something you value, makes you grow? I don'tknow how to put it quite, but if you never did what you thought wrong, would you ever know how big right is? Besides, he hasn't gone on doingit. Perhaps he _did_ start wrong in getting to care, but that only makesit harder and finer, his stopping himself. Very few people, I think, butWinn could stop themselves, and nobody but Winn could ever care--somuch. " Her voice broke, and she turned away her head. 

"What, " said Miss Marley, rolling another cigarette, "are your plans?"

Miss Marley felt that she must give up first principles but she hopedthat she might still be able to do something about plans. 

"We are going to drive over the Maloja to Chiavenna, " said Claire;"Maurice has a party to go with. We shall start by the earlier post, andhave lunch together at Vico-Soprano before he comes. And then whenMaurice comes we shall say good-by; and then--and then, Miss Marley, I've been thinking--we mustn't meet again! I haven't told Winn yet, because he likes to talk as if we could, in places awfully far away andodd, with you to chaperon us. I think it helps him to talk like thatbut I don't think now that we must ever meet again. You won't blame himif I tell you something, will you?"

"No, " said Miss Marley; "after what you've said to me to-night I am notinclined to blame him. "

"Well, " said Claire, "I don't think, if we were to meet again, he wouldlet me go. We may manage this time, but not twice. "

"Are you sure, " asked Miss Marley, gently, "that you will manage thistime?"

Claire raised her head and looked at Miss Marley. 

"Aren't you?" she said gravely. "I _did_ feel very sure. "

"I'd feel a great deal surer, " said Miss Marley, "if you didn't drivedown the pass. If you once set off with Winn, do you suppose he'll stop?I am sure he means to now; in fact, his sending you up here to talk tome proves it. He knows I sha'n't be much of a help to him in carryingyou off. But, my dear, I never knew any Staines stop, once he'd started. As long as he is looking at the consequences for you, he'll steer clearof them, he's looking at them now, but a moment will come when he'llcease to look, and then everything will depend on you. I think your onechance is to say good-by here, and to drive down the pass with Maurice. He can dispose of his party for once. "

The color left Claire's face, but her eyes never flinched from MissMarley's. After a time Miss Marley turned her head away; she could nolonger bear the look in Claire's eyes. It was like watching the face ofsome one drowning. 

"I don't want a chance!" whispered Claire. 

[Illustration: "I don't want a chance, " whispered Claire]

Miss Marley found her voice difficult to control, but she did controlit; she said:

"I was thinking of his chance. If he does you any harm, he won't forgivehimself. You can stop it; he can't possibly stop himself. "

"No, " said Claire. She didn't cry; she sat very straight and still onher footstool in front of the fire. After a while she said in a curiousdragging voice: "Very well, then; I must tell him about the pass. Oh, what shall I do if he minds! It's his minding--" She stopped, as if thewords broke something in her. 

"Yes, " said Miss Marley; "but he'll mind more if he ruins your life. You see, you won't think you're ruined, but Winn will think so. He'llbelieve he's ruined the woman he loves, and after a little time, whenhis passion has ceased to ride him blind, he'll never hold up his headagain. You'll be responsible for that. " It sounded cruel, but it was notcruel. Miss Marley knew that as long as she laid the responsibility atClaire's door, Claire would not think her cruel. 

Claire repeated slowly after her:

"I should be responsible for that!" Then she said: "Oh, how silly lawsare! How silly! As if any one could be ruined who simply loved!"

"We should probably be sillier without laws, " Miss Marley observed. "Andyou must remember they have their recommendations: they keep sillypeople comparatively safe. "

"Safe!" said Claire. "I think that's the emptiest, poorest word thereis! Who wants to be safe?"

"You wouldn't think so if you had a child, " said Miss Marley, quietly. "You would need safety then, and you would learn to prize it. "

Claire bowed her head into her hands. 

"Oh, why can't I have one now! Why can't I?" she whispered brokenly. 

Miss Marley bit her lips; she had hoped Claire was too young for thisparticular stab. 

"Because he'd think it wrong, " said Miss Marley after a pause, "andbecause of Peter. He's got that obligation. The two would clash. "

Claire rose slowly to her feet. 

"I'll just go and tell him about the pass, " she said quietly. "When it'sover I'll begin to think; but I needn't really think till then, need I?Because I feel as if I couldn't just now; it would stop my going on. "

Miss Marley said that she was quite sure that Claire need not begin tothink at present and privately she hoped that, when that hour came, something might happen which would deaden thought. She was thankful toremember that the worst of feeling is always over before the worst ofthinking can begin. But Claire was too young to comfort herself with thelimitations of pain. She only knew that she must tell Winn about thepass and seem for a moment at least, in his eyes, not to trust him. Nevertheless, she smiled at Miss Marley before she left her, because shedidn't want Miss Marley to feel upset; and Miss Marley accepted thisreassurance with an answering smile until the door was shut. 

CHAPTER XXVI

When Claire found Winn at the bridge-table she saw at a glance that hewas not in the mood for renunciations. His eyes had the hard, shiningstare that was the danger-signal of the Staines family. He shot a glanceat Claire as if she were a hostile force and he was taking her measure. He was putting her outside himself in order to fight her. It was as ifhe knew instinctively that their wills were about to clash. When therubber was over, he got up and walked straight to her. 

"You put me off my game, " he said grimly. "I can see you're up tosomething; but we can't talk here. "

"Let's talk to-morrow, " she urged, "not now. I thought perhaps you'dlike to come and listen to the music with me; there is music in thehall. "

"You did, did you?" he replied in the same hard voice. "Well, you weremistaken. Go up-stairs to my room and wait for me. It's number 28, twoor three doors beyond Miss Marley's sitting-room. I'll follow you. "

An older woman would have hesitated, and if Claire had hesitated, Winnwould never have forgiven her. But her youth was at once her danger andher protection. 

She would rather have waited till to-morrow, because she saw that Winnwas in a difficult mood; but she had no idea what was behind his mood. She went at once. 

She had never been in Winn's room before, and as she sat down to waitfor him her eyes took in its neat impressive bareness. It was a narrowhotel room, a bed in one corner, a chest of drawers, washstand, andwardrobe opposite. By the balcony window were a small table and anarmchair. A cane chair stood at the foot of the bed. 

Nothing was lying about. There were few traces of occupation visible;only a pair of felt slippers under the bed, a large bath sponge on thewashstand, and a dressing-gown hanging on the nail behind the door. Inhis tooth-glass by the bedside was a rose Claire had worn and given him. It was put there with meticulous care; its stalk had been re-cut and itsleaves freshened. Beside it lay a small New Testament and a book onsaddles. 

Winn joined her in exactly five minutes. He shut the door carefullyafter him, and sat down on the cane chair opposite her. 

"I thought you might like to know, " he said politely, "that I have madeup my mind not to let you go. "

Then he waited for Claire to contradict him. But Claire waited, too;Claire waited longest. She was not sure what to say, and, unlike mostwomen, when she was not sure what to say, she said nothing. Winn spokeagain, but a little less quietly. 

"It's no use your making a fuss, " he stated, "or cutting up rough aboutit and throwing morals at my head. I've got past that. " He got up, locked the door, and then came back. "I'm going to keep that door lockeduntil I make sure what you're up to. "

"You needn't have done that, " Claire said quietly. "Do you think I wantto leave you? If I did, I shouldn't be here. You can't make me doanything I don't want to do, because I want exactly what you do. "

Winn shot an appreciative glance at her; that was a good stroke, but hewasn't going to be taken in by it. In some ways he would have preferredto see her angry. Hostility is generally the sign of weakness; butClaire looked at him with an unyielding tenderness. 

"The question is, " he said firmly, "can I make you do what we both wantand what you are holding back from? I dare say you've got good reasonsfor holding back and all that, and I know I'm an out-and-out blackguardto press you, but I've reached a place where I won't stand any more. D'you see my point?"

Claire nodded. She was not angry, because she saw that Winn was fightingher not because he wanted to be victorious over her, but because he wasbeing conquered by pain. 

She was not going to let him be conquered by it--that, as Miss Marleyhad said, was her responsibility--but it wasn't going to be easy toprevent it. She was close against the danger-line, and every nerve inher being had long ago become part of Winn. He was fighting against thebest of himself, but all that was not the best of Claire fought on hisside. Perhaps there was not very much that was not the best in Claire. She hesitated, then she said:

"I thought you wanted me--to go. I think you really do want it; that'swhy I'm going. "

Winn leaned forward and took hold of both her wrists. "So I did, " heagreed; "but it isn't any good. I can't do it. I've thought it allout--just what to do, you know--for both of us. I'll have to leave myregiment, of course, but I can get back into something else all rightlater on. Estelle will give me a divorce. She'll want to keep the childaway from me; besides, she'll like to be a public martyr. As for you andme, you'll have to face rough music for a year or two; that's the worstpart of it. I'm sorry. We'll stay abroad till it's over. My mother willhelp us. I can count on her. "

"Winn, come here, " said Claire. He came and knelt down beside her. Sheput her hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. He triedto keep them hard, but he failed. 

"Don't try and get round me!" he said threateningly. "You'll make medangerous if you do. It isn't the least good!"

"Can you listen to what I say?" Claire asked quietly. 

"I suppose so, " said Winn, guardedly. "I love every bit of you--I lovethe ground your chair's on--but I'm not going to give in. "

"And that's the way I love you, " she said. "I'd go with you to theworld's end, Winn, if I didn't love you so much and you'd take me there;but you won't, for just the same reason. We can't do what would beunfair; we shouldn't like it. It's no use, darling; we shouldn't likeit. "

"That's all you know about it, " said Winn, unappeasably. "Anyhow, we'regoing to do it, whether you like it or not. "

Then she took her hands away from his shoulders and leaned back in herchair. He had never seen her look so frail and small, and he knew thatshe had never been so formidably strong. 

"Oh, no, Winn, " she whispered; "I'm not. I'm not going to do it. If youwanted it, if you really wanted it with all of you, you wouldn't berough with me; you'd be gentle. You're not being gentle because youdon't think it right, and I'm never going to do what you don't thinkright. "

Winn drew a deep, hard breath. He threw his arms round her and pressedher against his heart. 

"I'm _not_ rough, " he muttered, "and you've got to do it! You've got togive in!"

Claire made no answer. She only clung to him, and every now and then shesaid his name under her breath as if she were calling to something inhim to save her. 

Whatever it was that she was calling to answered her. He suddenly bowedhis head and buried it in her lap. She felt his body shake, and he beganto sob, hard, dry sobs that broke him as they came. He held her close, with his face hidden. Claire pressed her hands on each side of histemples, feeling the throbbing of his heart. She felt as if somethinginside her were being torn to pieces, something that knocked its wayagainst her side in a vain endeavor to escape. She very nearly gave in. Then Winn stopped as suddenly as he had begun. 

"Sorry, " he said, "but this kind of thing is a bit wearing. I'm notgoing to unlock that door. Do you intend to stay all night here, or giveme your promise?" He spoke steadily now; his moment of weakness waspast. She could have gone then, but nothing would have induced her toleave him while he cried. 

"I don't intend to do either, " Claire said with equal steadiness. "Whenyou think I ought to go, you'll let me out. "

It struck Winn that her knowledge of him was positively uncanny. 

"I don't believe, " he said sharply, "you're only nineteen. I believeyou've been in love before!"

Claire didn't say anything, but she looked past him at the door. 

Her look maddened him. 

"You're playing with me!" he cried. "By Jove! you're playing with me!"He caught her by the shoulders, and for a moment he believed that he wasgoing to kill her; but her eyes never wavered. He was not hurting her, and she knew that he never would. She said:

"O my darling boy!"

Winn got up and walked to the window. When he came back, his expressionhad completely changed. 

"Now cut along to bed, " he said quietly. "You're tired. Go--at once, Claire. "

This time she knew she ought to go, but something held her back. Shewas not satisfied with the look in his eyes. He was controlled again, but it was a controlled desperation. She could not leave him with that. 

Her mind was intensely alert with pain; she followed his eyes. Theyrested for a moment on the stand by his bed. He pushed the key acrossthe table toward her, but she did not look at the key; she crossed theroom and opened the drawer under the Bible. 

She saw what she had expected to see. It was Winn's revolver; upon itlay a snap-shot of Peter. He always kept them together. 

Claire took out the revolver. Winn watched her, with his hands in hispockets. 

"Be careful, " he said; "it's loaded. "

She brought it to him and said:

"Now take all the things out of it. " Winn laughed, and unloaded itwithout a word. "Now open the window, " she ordered, "and throw them intothe snow. " Winn obeyed. When he came back she put her arms around hisneck and kissed him. "Now I'll go, " she said. 

"All right, " agreed Winn, gently. "Wait for me in the cloak-room, andI'll take you across. But, I say, look here--will you ever forgive me?I'm afraid I've been a most fearful brute. "

Then Claire knew she couldn't stand any more. She turned and ran intothe passage. Fortunately, the cloak-room was empty. She pressed herselfagainst a fur coat and sobbed as Winn had sobbed up-stairs; but she hadnot his arms to comfort her. She had not dared to cry in his arms. 

They walked hand in hand across the snow from his hotel to the door ofhers. 

Claire knew that she could say anything she liked to Winn now, so shesaid what she had made up her mind to say. 

"Winn dearest, do you know what I came down for this evening?"

He held her hand tighter and nodded. 

"I guessed, " he said. "That was, you know, what rather did for me. Youmean you aren't going to let me come with you down the pass?"

"We mustn't, " Claire whispered; and then she felt she couldn't be goodany more. It cost too much. So she added, "But you can if you like. " Butthere wasn't any real need for Claire to be good now; Winn was goodinstead. 

"No, " he said; "it's much wiser not. You look thoroughly done up. I'mnot going to have any more of this. Let's breakfast together. You comeover at eight sharp and arrange with Maurice to take you down at ten. That's quite enough for you. "

Claire laughed. Winn stared at her, then in a moment he laughed, too. 

"We'd better not take any more chances, " he explained. "Next time itmight happen to us both together. Then you'd really be had! Thanksawfully for seeing me through. Good night. "

She went into the hotel without a word, and all her heart rebelledagainst her for having seen him through. 

CHAPTER XXVII

The hour of parting crept upon them singularly quietly and slowly. Theyboth pretended to eat breakfast, and then they walked out into Badrutt'sPark. They sat in the nearest shelter, hand in hand, looking over thegray, empty expanse of the rink. It was too early for any one to beabout. Only a few Swiss peasants were sweeping the ice and Winn hardlylooked upon Swiss peasants as human. 

He asked Claire exactly how much money she had a year, and told her whenshe came of age what he should advise her to suggest to her trustees toput it in. 

Then he went through all the things he thought she ought to have fordriving down the pass. Claire interrupted him once to remind him aboutgoing to see Dr. Gurnet. Winn said he remembered quite well and wouldgo. They both assured each other that they had had good nights. Winnsaid he thought Maurice would be all right in a few years, and that hedidn't think he was shaping for trouble. He privately thought thatMaurice was not going to have any shape at all, but he omitted thisfurther reflection. 

He told her how much he enjoyed his regiment and explained laboriouslyhow Claire was to think of his future, which was to be, apparently, awhirl of pleasure from morning till night. 

They talked very disconnectedly; in the middle of recounting his futurejoys, Winn said:

"And then if anything was to happen to me, you know, I hope you'd thinkbetter of it and marry Lionel. "

Claire did not promise to marry Lionel, but she implied that evenwithout marriage she, like Winn, was about to pass into an existencestudded with resources and amusements; and then she added:

"And if you were to die, or I was, Miss Marley could help us to see eachother just at the last. I asked her about it. " Despite their futurehappiness, they seemed to draw more solid satisfaction out of this finalprivilege. 

The last ten minutes they hardly talked at all. Every now and then Winnwanted to know if Claire's feet were warm, and Claire asked him to lether have a photograph of Peter. 

Then Maurice came out of the hotel, and a tailing party stood in theopen doorway and wondered if it was going to snow. The sleigh drove upto the hotel, jingling in the gayest manner, with pawing horses. Winnwalked across the courtyard with her and nodded to Maurice; and Mauriceallowed Winn to tuck Claire up, because, after he'd looked at Winn'seyes, it occurred to him that he couldn't do anything else. 

Winn reduced the hall porter, a magnificent person in gold lace, with animmense sense of dignity, to gibbering terror before the lift-boy andthe boots because he had failed to supply the sleigh with a sufficientlyhot foot-warmer. 

Finally even Winn was satisfied that there was nothing more to eat or towear which the sleigh could be induced to hold or Claire agree to want. He stood aside then, and told the man briefly to be off. The driver, whodid not understand English, understood perfectly what Winn meant, andhastened to crack his whip. 

Claire looked back and saw Winn, bare-headed, looking after her. Hiseyes were like a mother's eyes when she fights in naked absorptionagainst the pain of her child. 

He went on looking like that for a long while after the sleigh haddisappeared. Then he put on his cap and started off up the valley towardPontresina. 

It had already begun to snow. The walk to Pontresina is the coldest anddarkest of winter walks, and the snow made it heavy going. Winn got verymuch out of breath, and his chest hurt him. Every now and then hestopped and said to himself, "By Jove! I wonder if I'm going to be ill?"But as he always pushed on afterward with renewed vigor, as if a goodidea had just occurred to him, it hardly seemed as if he cared very muchwhether he was going to be ill or not. He got as far as the MortratschGlacier before he stopped. 

He couldn't get any farther because when he got into the inn for lunch, something or other happened to him. A fool of a porter had theimpertinence to tell him afterward that he had fainted. Winn knocked theporter down for daring to make such a suggestion; but feeling remarkablyqueer despite this relaxation, he decided to drive back to the Kulm. 

He wound up the day with bridge and a prolonged wrangle with Miss Marleyon the subject of the Liberal Government. 

Miss Marley lent herself to the fray and became extremely heated. Winnhad her rather badly once or twice, and as he never subsequently heardher argue on the same subject with others, he was spared the knowledgethat she shared his political views precisely, and had tenderly providedhim with the flaws in her opponent's case. 

When he went to bed he began a letter to Claire. He told her that he hadhad a jolly walk, a good game of bridge, and that he thought he'dsucceeded in knocking some radical nonsense out of Miss Marley's head. Then he inclosed his favorite snap-shot of Peter, the one that he keptwith his revolver, and said he would get taken properly with him when hewent back to England. 

Winn stopped for a long time after that, staring straight in front ofhim; then he wrote:

"I hope you'll never be sorry for having come across me, because you'vegiven me everything I ever wanted. I hope you'll not mind my having beenrather rough the other night. I didn't mean anything by it. I wouldn'thurt a hair of your head; but I think you know that I wouldn't, only Ithought I'd just mention it. Please be careful about the damp when youget back to England. "

He stopped for half an hour when he had got as far as "England, " and asthe heating was off, the room grew very cold; then he wrote, "I didn'tknow men loved women like this. "

After that he decided to finish the letter in the morning; but when themorning came he crossed the last sentence out because he thought itmight upset her. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

He had been afraid that Davos would be beautiful, but the thaw hadsuccessfully dissipated its immaculate loveliness. Half of the snowslopes were already bare, the roads were a sea of mud, and the valleywas as dingy as if a careless washerwoman had upset a basket of dirtylinen on her way to the laundry. All the sport people had gone, thestreets were half empty, and most of the tourist shops were shut. Onlythe very ill had reappeared; they crept aimlessly about in the sunshinewith wonder in their eyes that they were still alive. 

Winn had put up at the nearest hotel and made the earliest possibleappointment with Dr. Gurnet. Dr. Gurnet was obviously pleased to seehim, but the pleasure faded rapidly from his face after a glance or twoat Winn. The twinkle remained in his eyes, but it had become perceptiblygrimmer. 

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to take off your things, " he suggested. "After I have examined you we can talk more at our ease. "

It seemed to Winn as if he had never been so knocked about before. Dr. Gurnet pounced upon him and went over him inch by inch; he reminded Winnof nothing so much as of an excited terrier hunting up and down a bankfor a rat-hole. Eventually Dr. Gurnet found his rat. He went back to hischair, sat down heavily, and looked at Winn. For rather an ominousmoment he was silent; then he said politely:

"Of course I suppose you are aware, Major Staines, of what you have donewith your very excellent chances?"

Winn shook his head doubtfully. He hadn't, as a matter of fact, thoughtmuch lately about these particular chances. 

"Ah, " said Dr. Gurnet, "then I regret to inform you that you have simplywalked through them--or, in your case, I should be inclined to imagine, tobogganed--and you have come out the other side. You haven't got anychances now. "

Winn did not say anything for a moment or two; then he observed:

"I'm afraid I've rather wasted your time. "

"Pray don't mention it, " said Dr. Gurnet. "It is so small a thingcompared with what you have done with your own. "

Winn laughed. 

"You rather have me there, " he admitted; "I suppose I have been ratheran ass. "

"My dear fellow, " said Dr. Gurnet, more kindly, "I'm really annoyedabout this, extremely annoyed. I had booked you to get well. I expectedit. What have you been doing with yourself? You've broken down thatright lung badly; the infection has spread to the left. It was not thenatural progress of the disease, which was in process of being checked;it is owing to a very great and undue physical strain, and absolutely noattempt to take precautions after it. Also you have, I should say, complicated this by a great nervous shock. "

"Nonsense!" said Winn, briefly. "I don't go in for nerves. "

"You must allow me to correct you, " said Dr. Gurnet, gently. "You are ahuman being, and all human beings are open to the effects of shock. "

"I'm afraid I haven't quite played the game, " Winn confessed, after ashort pause. "I hadn't meant to let you down like this, Doctor Gurnet. Ithink it is due to me to tell you that I shouldn't have come to you fororders if I had intended at the time to shirk them. You're quite rightabout the tobogganing: I had a go at the Cresta. I know it shook me up abit, but I didn't spill. Perhaps something went wrong then. "

"And why, may I ask, did you do it?" Dr. Gurnet asked ironically. "Youdid not act solely, I presume, from an idea of thwarting mysuggestions?"

Winn's eyes moved away from the gimlets opposite them. 

"I found time dragging on my hands, rather, " he explained a triflelamely. 

"Ah, " said Dr. Gurnet, "you should have done what I told you--you shouldhave flirted; then you wouldn't have found time hanging on your hands. "

Winn held his peace. He thought Dr. Gurnet had a right to be annoyed, sohe gave him his head; but he had an uncomfortable feeling that Dr. Gurnet would make a very thorough use of this concession. 

Dr. Gurnet watched Winn silently for a few moments, then he said:

"People who don't wish to get well don't get well; but, on the otherhand, it is very rare that people who wish to die die. They merely getvery ill and give everybody a great deal of highly unnecessary trouble. "

"I'm not really seedy yet, " Winn said apologetically. "I suppose youcouldn't give me any idea of how things are going to go--I mean how longI've--" he hesitated for a few seconds; he felt as if he'd been broughtup curiously short--"I've got to live, " he finished firmly. 

"I can give you some idea, of course, " said Dr. Gurnet; "but if you takeany more violent or irregular plunges, you may very greatly shorten yourtime. Should you insist on remaining in your regiment and doing yourwork, you have, I fancy, about two years more before a completebreakdown. You are a very strong man, and your lung-tissue is tough. Should you remain here under my care, you will live indefinitely, but Ican hold out no hope of an ultimate recovery. If you return to Englandas an invalid, you will most undoubtedly kill yourself from boredom, though I have a suggestion to make to you which I hope may prevent thistermination to your career. On the whole, though I fear advice is wastedupon you, I should recommend you to remain in the army. It is what Ishould do myself if I were unfortunate enough to have your temperamentwhile retaining my own brains. "

"Oh, yes, " said Winn, rising to go; "of course I sha'n't chuck the army. I quite see that's the only sensible thing to do. "

"Pray sit down again, " said Dr. Gurnet, blandly, "and do not run awaywith the idea that I think any course you are likely to pursue sensiblein itself. If you were a sensible man, you would not take personaldisappointment as if it were prussic acid. "

Winn started. 

"It isn't disappointment, " he said quickly; "it was the only thing todo. "

"Ah, well, " said Dr. Gurnet, "Heaven forbid that I should enter into acontroversy with any one who believes in moral finality! Sensible peoplecompromise, Major Staines; but do not be offended, for I have everyreason to believe that sensible people do not make the best soldiers. Iam asking you to remain for a few minutes further because there is oneother point to which I wish to draw your attention should you be able tospare me the time?"

"All right, " said Winn, with a short laugh; "I've got time enough, according to you; I've got two years. "

"Well, yes, " said Dr. Gurnet, drawing the tips of his fingers carefullytogether. "And, Major Staines, according to me you will--er--need them. "

Winn sat up. 

"What d' you mean?" he asked quickly. 

"Men in my position, " replied Dr. Gurnet, guardedly, "have veryinteresting little side-lights into the mentality of other nations. Idon't know whether you remember my asking you if you knew German?"

"Yes, " said Winn. "It went out of head; but now you speak of it, I doremember. "

"I am delighted, " said Dr. Gurnet, blandly, "to have reconstructed yourbrain-tissue up to that point. I had a certain reason for asking youthis question. I have a good many German patients, some French ones, anda most excellent Belgian professor has placed himself under my care. "

"Well, what about it?" asked Winn with some sharpness. He had an ideathat this queer fellow before him meant something. 

"The Germans are an interesting nation, " Dr. Gurnet proceeded withouthurrying, "and they have a universal hobby. I don't know whether youhave noticed, Major Staines, but a universal hobby is a very powerfulthing. I am sometimes rather sorry that with us it has wholly taken theform of athletic sports. I dare say you are going to tell me that withyou it is not golf, but polo; even this enlarged idea does not whollyalter my depression. 

"With the Germans, you see, the hobby happens to beman[oe]uvers--military man[oe]uvers. I understand that this springAlsace and Lorraine have taken on the aspect of one gigantic camp. Now, Belgium, " Dr. Gurnet proceeded, tapping Winn's knee with hisfore-finger, "is a small, flat, undefended country, and one of my Frenchpatients informs me that the French Government have culpably neglectedtheir northern line of forts. 

"I hear from my other friend, the Belgian professor, that three yearsago the Belgian Government ordered big fortress guns from Krupp. Theyhave not got them yet; but I do not believe Krupp is incapable ofturning out guns. On the contrary, I hear that Krupp has, in a stillshorter time, entirely renovated the artillery of the Austrian army. "

Winn leaned forward excitedly. 

"I say, sir, " he exclaimed, "you ought to be in the intelligenceoffice. "

"God forbid!" said Dr. Gurnet, piously. "Not that I believe in God, " headded; "but I cling to the formulated expletives. 

"I should be extremely uncomfortable in any office. Besides, I have mydoubts as to the value of intelligence in England. It is so very rareand so un-English. One suspects occasional un-English qualities drawntogether for government purposes. 

"I merely mentioned these interesting national traits because I had anidea, partly that you would respond to them, and partly that they aregoing in an exceedingly short time to become manifest to the world atlarge. "

"You think we are going to have war?" asked Winn, his eyes sparkling. "War!" He said the word as if he loved it. 

Dr. Gurnet shrugged his shoulders and sighed, and spread out his ratherfat little hands. 

"Yes, Major Staines, " he said dryly, "I quite think we are going to havewar. "

"Then I must get back to my regiment as quickly as possible, " said Winn, getting up. 

"I shouldn't do that if I were you, " said Dr. Gurnet. "I should adviseyour remaining in England for three months, I think you will be usedquicker if you do that. War is unlikely to begin in India, and theclimate is deleterious in the summer months. And might I suggest thecarrying out of a few minor precautions? If you are to live efficientlyfor two years, it will be highly necessary for you to carry them out. "

Winn turned toward him eagerly. 

"I'll do any bally thing you tell me to now, " he said quickly. 

Dr. Gurnet laughed, then he said:

"Go back to England, study German, and await your chance. Don't play anymore heavy games, don't lose your temper or try your heart, don't drinkor smoke or play billiards or sit in a room with a shut window. Takeplenty of good plain food and a certain amount of exercise. You aregoing to be needed. "

Winn drew a deep breath. 

"It's a funny thing, " he said, turning toward the door, "but somehow Ibelieve in you. "

Dr. Gurnet shook hands with him cordially. 

"In a sense, I may say, " he observed, "in spite of your extremelydisappointing behavior, that I return the compliment. I believe in you, Major Staines, only--" Dr. Gurnet finished the rest of the sentenceafter the door had shut behind his patient. "Unfortunately, I am notsure if there are quite enough of you. "

CHAPTER XXIX

When the Staineses gave an entertainment it was to mark their contemptfor what more sensitive people might have considered a familycatastrophe. 

They had given a ball a week from the day on which Dolores ran away withthe groom. A boat-race had been inaugurated upon the occasion on whichWinn lost his lawsuit; and some difficulty (ultimately overcome) betweenJames and the Admiralty had resulted in a dinner followed by fireworkson the lawn. 

When Winn returned from Davos, Lady Staines decided upon a garden party. 

"Good God!" cried Sir Peter. "Do you mean to tell me I've wasted thatthree hundred pounds, Sarah?" Sir Peter preferred this form of thequestion to "Is my boy going to die?" He meant precisely the same thing. 

"As far as I know, " Lady Staines replied, "nobody ever dies _before_causing trouble; they die after it, and add their funeral expenses tothe other inconveniences they have previously arranged for. Can't yousee the boy's marriage has gone to pot?"

"I wish you wouldn't pick up slang expressions from your sons, " growledSir Peter. "You never hear me speaking in that loose way. Why haven'tthey got a home of their own? You would ask them here--nurse, bottles, and baby like a traveling Barnum's--and Winn glares in one corner--andthat little piece of dandelion fluff lies down and grizzles on thenearest cushion--and now you want to have a garden party on the top of'em! Anybody'd suppose this was a Seamen's Home from the use you put itto! And of all damned silly ways of entertaining people, a gardenparty's the worse! Who wants to look at other people's gardens except tofind fault with 'em?

"Besides, unless you want rain (which we don't with the hay half down)it's tempting Providence. Nothing'll keep rain off a garden party exceptprayers in church during a drought. 

"What the hell do you expect to gain by it? I know what it allmeans--Buns! Bands! high-heeled kick-shaws cutting up my turf! Why thedevil don't you get a Punch and Judy show down and be done with it?"

"Of course you don't like a garden party, " said Lady Staines, smoothly, "nor do I. Do you suppose I care to be strapped tight into smart staysat my age, and walk about my own gravel paths in purple satin, listeningto drivel about other people's children? We must do something for theneighborhood sometimes, whether they like it or not. That's what we'rehere for--it's the responsibility of our position. Quite absurd, I know, but then, most people's responsibilities are quite absurd. You have ason and he behaves like a fool. You can leave him to take theconsequences of course if you like--only as some of them will devolve onus, it is worth a slight effort to evade them. "

"For God's sake, spit it out, and have done with it!" shouted Sir Peter. "What's the boy done?"

Lady Staines sat down opposite her husband and folded her hands in herlap. She was a woman who always sat perfectly still on the rareoccasions when she was not too busy to sit down at all. 

"What I hoped would happen, " she said, "hasn't happened. He's presumablypicked up with some respectable woman. "

"What do you mean by that?" asked Sir Peter. "I never knew any one ascold-bloodedly immoral as you are, Sarah. Did you want the boy to pickup with a baggage?"

"Certainly, " said Lady Staines. "Why not? I have always understood thatthe Social Evil was for our protection, but I never believed it. Nowoman worth her salt has ever wanted protection. It's men that want it. They need a class of creature that won't involve them beyond a certainpoint, and quite right too. Winn seemed to see this before he wentoff--but he didn't keep it in mind--he ran his head into a noose. "

"Has he talked to you about it?" asked Sir Peter, incredulously. 

"I don't need talk, " said Lady Staines. "I judge by facts. Winn goes tochurch regularly, his temper is execrable, and he takes long walks byhimself. A satisfied man is neither irate nor religious--and hasnothing to walk off. Consequently it's a virtuous attachment. That'sserious, because it will lead to the divorce court. Virtues generallylead to somebody trying to get out of something. "

"Pooh!" Sir Peter grunted. "You've got that out of some damned Frenchnovel. You must have virtue, the place has got to be kept up somehow, hasn't it? If what you say is true--and I don't for a moment admit aword of it--I don't see how you're going to sugar things over with acouple of hundred people trampling up my lawn?"

"Estelle likes people, " Lady Staines replied. "My idea is to make her asuccess. I will introduce her to everybody worth knowing. I'll get someof our people down from town. They'll hate it, of course; but they'll becurious to see what's up. Of course they won't see anything. At the endof the day, if it's all gone off well--I'll have a little talk withEstelle. I shall tell her first what I think of her; and then I shalloffer to back her if she'll turn over a new leaf. Winn'll do his partfor the sake of the boy, if she meets him half way. I give religion itsdue--he wants to do his duty, only he doesn't see what it is. He mustlive with his wife. His prayers will come in nicely afterwards. "

Sir Peter chuckled. "There's something in your idea, Sarah, " headmitted. "But it's a damned expensive process. All my strawberries willgo. And if it rains, everybody'll come into the house and scuttle overmy library like so many rabbits. "

"I'll keep them out of the library, " said Lady Staines, rising, "and Ishall want a hundred pounds. "

She left the library after a short series of explosions, with a checkfor seventy-five. She had only expected fifty. 

The garden party was, if not a great success, at least a great crowd. 

The village was entertained by sports in a field, backed by beer intents, and overseen by Winn with the delighted assistance of the youngerPeter. 

Lady Staines, in stiff purple satin, strode uncomfortably up and downherbaceous borders, exposing the ignorance of her fellow gardeners by aseries of ruthless questions. 

Charles and James, who had put in an intermittent appearance in the hopeof a loan from Sir Peter, did their best to make things go. Charles hadbrought down a bull terrier, and the bull terrier brought down, firstone of the donkeys that was to take part in the sports, but waspermanently incapacitated from any further participation either in sportor labor, then two pet lap dogs, in a couple of sharp shakes on thelawn, and crowned his career of murder with the stable cat, in anouthouse where Charles had at last incontinently and a littleinconsiderately, as far as the cat was concerned, flung him. 

Isabel and her husband had driven over from a neighboring parish. 

Isabel liked garden parties. She made her way at once to a group ofclergy, her husband dangling meekly in her rear; and then told them inher quarter deck style exactly what she thought ought to be done withtheir parishes. Sir Peter remained in the library with the windows openand his eye upon passing clouds. 

Several of his friends joined him, and they talked about Ulster. 

Everybody was at this time talking about Ulster. 

Most of them spoke of it as people talk of a tidal wave in China. Theydid not exactly wish the wave to destroy the whole of China, but theywould all have felt a little annoyed if it had withdrawn withoutdrowning anybody. 

"The Government has been weak, " said Sir Peter sternly; "as weak as asoft-boiled egg! What Ireland wants is a firm hand, and if that's notenough, a swift kick after it! Concession! Who wants concessions? Asensible man doesn't make concessions unless he's trying to bluff youinto thinking he's got what he hasn't got, or is getting out of you whathe hasn't right to get!

"But people oughtn't to import arms. I'll go as far as that! It'sagainst discipline. Whether it's one side or the other, it ought to bestopped. 

"There'll be a row, of course--a healthy, blood-letting hell of a row, and we shall all be the better for it! But I don't approve of firearmsbeing let loose all over the place--it's un-English. It only shows whatthe poor devils at Ulster must have suffered, and be afraid ofsuffering, to resort to it! That sort of thing is all very well in theBalkans. My son Winn's been talking about the Balkans lately--kind ofthing the army's always getting gas off about! What I say is--let 'emfight! They got the Turk down once, all of 'em together, and he was theonly person that could keep 'em in hand. Now I hear Austria wants tostart trouble in Serbia because of that assassination in June. What theywant to make a fuss about assassination in that family for I can'tthink! I should look upon it as an hereditary disease and leave it atthat! But don't tell me it's anything to worry about compared to Ulster. What's the danger of a country that talks thirteen languages, has nonon-commissioned officers, and always gets beat when it fights? Sarah!Sarah! Get the people in for tea. Can't you see there's a shower coming?Damn it all! And my second crop of hay's not in yet! That's what comesof giving garden parties. Of course I'm very glad to see you all, butyou know what I mean. No shilly-shallying with the English climate's mymotto--it's the only dangerous thing we've got!"

Lady Staines disregarded this admonition. The light clouds above theelms puffed idly in the heavy air. It was a hot bright day, murmurouswith bees and the idle, half notes of midsummer birds. 

Estelle, in the most diaphanous of blue muslins, held a little courtunder a gigantic mulberry tree. She had always intended marriage with aStaines to be like this. 

Winn was nowhere to be seen, and his mother plodded patiently to and froacross the lawn, bringing a line of distinguished visitors to beintroduced to her. 

They were kind, curt people who looked at Estelle rather hard, and askedher absurd questions about Winn's regiment, Sir Peter's ships, and herbaby. They had no general ideas, but however difficult they were to talkto, Estelle knew they were the right people to meet--she had seen theirnames in magazines. None of her own family were there; they had all beeninvited, but Estelle had preferred their remaining at home. She had onceheard Sir Peter refer to her father as "Old Moneybags. " He hadapologized afterwards, but he might do it again. 

Lady Staines was the only person who noticed the arrival of twotelegrams--they were taken to Charles and James, who were at that momentin the refreshment tent opposite the claret cup. The telegrams arrivedsimultaneously, and Charles said, "Good Lord!" and James said, "My hat!"when they read the contents, with every symptom of surprise andpleasure. 

"I shouldn't have supposed, " Lady Staines thought to herself, "that twoof my boys would have backed the same horse. It must be a coincidence. "

They put the telegrams rather carefully away, and shortly afterwards sheobserved that they had set off together in the direction of the villagesports. 

The long golden twilight drew to a close, the swallows swooped andcircled above the heavy, darkened elms. The flowers in the longherbaceous borders had a fragile look in the colorless soft air. 

The garden party drifted slowly away. 

Lady Staines stopped her daughter-in-law going into the house; but shewas destined never to tell her what she thought of her. Estelle escapedNemesis by the turn of a hair. 

Sir Peter came out of the library prepared to inspect the lawn. "What'sup with those boys?" he demanded, struck by the unusual sight of histhree sons advancing towards him from the river, their heads bent intalk, and not apparently quarreling. 

Lady Staines followed the direction of his eyes; then she said toEstelle, "You'd better go in now, my dear; I'll talk to you later. "

Sir Peter shouted in his stentorian voice an appeal to his sons to joinhim. Lady Staines, while she waited, took off her white kid gloves andher purple bonnet, and deposited them upon the balustrades. 

"What are you up to, " demanded Sir Peter when they came within earshot, "sticking down there by the river with your heads glued together like aset of damned Guy Fawkeses--instead of saying good-by to your mother'sguests--who haven't had the sense to get under way before seveno'clock--though I gave 'em a hint to be off an hour ago?"

"Helping villagers to climb greasy poles, and finishing a sack race, "Charles explained. "Lively time Winn's been having down there--I had noidea our second housemaid was so pretty. "

"None of that! None of that!" said Sir Peter, sharply. "You keep tobar-maids, young Charles--and manicure girls, though there ought to bean act of Parliament against 'em! Still, I'll admit you can't do muchharm here--three of you together, and your mother on the frontdoorstep!"

"Harm, " said James, winking in the direction of his mother; "what canpoor chaps like us do--here to-day and gone to-morrow--Mother'd betterkeep her eye on those near home!"

"Off to-night you might as well say!" remarked Charles, glancing atJames with a certain intentness. 

"Why off to-night?" asked Lady Staines. "I thought you were staying overthe week-end?"

"Winn's put us on to something, " explained Charles. "Awfully good show, he says--on at the Oxford. Pretty hot stuff and the censor hasn't smeltit out yet--we rather thought we'd run up to-night and have a look atit. "

Winn stuck his hands in his pockets, set his jaw, and looked at hismother. Lady Staines was regarding him with steady eyes. 

"You didn't get a telegram, too?" she asked. 

"No, " said Winn. "Why should I?"

"Not likely, " said James, genially. "Always behindhand in the--"

"Damn these midges!" said Charles, hurriedly. James stopped with hismouth open. 

"Army, you were going to say, weren't you?" asked his mother, suavely. "If you are my sons I must say you make uncommonly poor liars. "

Sir Peter, whose attention had wandered to tender places in the lawn, looked up sharply. 

"What's that? What's that?" he asked. "Been telling lies, have they? Anice way you've brought 'em up, Sarah! What have they been lying about?A woman? Because if they have, I won't hear a word about it! Lies abouta woman are perfectly correct, though I'm hanged if I can see how theycan all three be lying about one woman. That seems a bit thick, I mustsay. "

To Sir Peter's surprise, nobody made any reply. Charles yawned, Jameswhistled, and Winn kept his eyes steadily fixed on Lady Staines. 

"Those were orders then, " Lady Staines observed in a dry quiet voice. "Ithought it very likely. I suppose it's Germany. I felt sure we shouldhave trouble with that excitable young man sooner or later. He had toogood an opinion of himself to be an emperor. "

"Not Ulster!" exclaimed Sir Peter. "God bless my soul--not Ulster!"

"Oh, we can take on Ulster afterwards, " said James reassuringly. "Nowwe'll see what submarines can do; 'member the Japs?"

"Winn, " said Lady Staines, "before you're off, say good-by to yourwife. "

Winn frowned, and then he said, "All right, Mother, " and left them. 

It was a very still evening, the scent of new mown hay and themysterious sweetness of the starry white tobacco plant haunted thedelicate air. 

Winn found Estelle lying down by the open window. He had not been in herroom for some time. He sat down by the sofa, and fingered the tassels ather waist. 

"Is anything the matter?" she asked coldly. 

He had only himself to thank that she was cold--he knew that. He saw soplainly now, all the mistakes he'd made, that the ones Estelle had made, receded into the distance. He'd never been gentle to her. Even when hethought he loved her, he wasn't really gentle. 

Gentleness was superlative kindness, and no woman who had not had justthat sort of kindness from the man she married, could help being rathernasty. He had owed it to Estelle--no matter whether she told him thetruth or not. 

"Look here, Estelle, " he began. "I want our boy to go to Charterhouse. "

It wasn't exactly what he meant to say, but it was something; he hadnever called Peter "our boy" before. Estelle did not notice it. 

"Of course, I should prefer Eton, " she said, "but I suppose you will doas you like--as usual!"

Winn dropped the piece of tassel, but he persevered. 

"I say, " he began, "don't you think we've got rather off the track? Iknow it's not your fault, but your being ill and my being away and allthat? I don't want you to feel sore about it, you know. I want you torealize that I know I've been rather a beast to you. I don't think I'mfitted somehow for domestic life--what?"

"Fitted for it!" said Estelle, tragically. "I have never known one happymoment with you! You seem incapable of any kind of chivalry! I neverwould have believed a man could exist who knew _less_ how to make awoman happy! It's too late to talk of it all now! I've made my supremesacrifice. I've offered up my broken heart! I am living upon a higherplane! You would never understand anything that wasn't coarse, brutal, and low! So I shan't explain it to you. I know my duty, but I don'tthink after the way you have behaved I really need consider myself underany obligation to live with you again. Father Anselm agrees with me. "

Winn laughed. "Don't you worry about that, " he hastened to assure her, "or Father Anselm either; there isn't the least necessity--and it wasn'twhat I meant. "

Estelle looked annoyed. It plainly should have been what Winn meant. 

"Have as much of the higher plane as you like, " he went on, "only lookafter the boy. I'm off to London to-night, there's probably going to besome work of a kind that I can do. I mayn't be back directly. Hopeyou'll be all right. We can write about plans. "

He stood up, hesitating a little. He had an idea that it would make himfeel less strange if she kissed him. Of course it was absurd, becausejust to have a woman's arms round his neck wasn't going to be the leastlike Claire. But he had a curious feeling that perhaps he might never bealone with a woman again, and he wanted to part friends with Estelle. 

"I wonder, " he said, leaning towards her, "would you mind very much if Ikissed you?"

Estelle turned her head away with a little gesture of aversion. 

"I am sorry, " she said. "I shall not willingly allow you to kiss me, butof course you are my husband--I am in your power. "

"By Jove, " said Winn, unexpectedly, "what a little cat you are!"

They were the last words he ever said to her. 

CHAPTER XXX

For a time he could do nothing but think of his luck--it was astoundinghow obstacles had been swept aside for him. 

The best he had expected was that in the hurry of things he might getback to India without a medical examination, in the hope that hisregiment would be used later. But his work at the Staff College hadbrought him into notice, a man conveniently died, and Winn appeared atthe right moment. 

Within twenty-four hours of his visit to the War Office, he was attachedfor staff duty to a British division. 

Then work closed over his head. He became a railway time-table, alost-luggage office, a registrar, and a store commissioner. 

He had the duties of a special Providence thrust upon him, with all thedisadvantages of being readily held accountable, so skilfully evaded bythe higher powers. 

Junior officers flew to him for orders as belated ladies fly to theirpin cushions for pins. 

He ate when it was distinctly necessary, and slept two hours out of thetwenty-four. 

He left nothing undone which he could do himself; his mind wasunfavorable to chance. The heads of departments listened when he madesuggestions, and found it convenient to answer with accuracy his suddenquestions. 

Subordinates hurried to obey his infrequent but final orders; and whenWinn said, "I think you'd find it better, " people found it better. 

The division slipped off like cream, without impediment or hitch. 

There were no delays, the men acquired their kit, and found theirrailway carriages. 

The trains swept in velvet softness out of the darkened London stationthrough the sweet, quiet, summer night into a sleepless Folkestone. Thedivision went straight onto the right transports; there wasn't a man, ahorse, or a gun out of place. 

Winn heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped on board; his troubles as astaff officer had only just begun, but they had begun as troublesshould always begin, by being adequately met. There were no arrears. 

He did not think of Claire until he stood on deck and saw the lightsreceding and the shadow that was England passing out of his sight. 

He remembered her then with a little pang of joy--for suddenly he knewthat he was free to think of her. 

He had thought of her before as a man registers a fact that is alwayspresent to him, but in the interval since he had seen her hisconsciousness of her had been increasingly troubled. 

Now the trouble was fading, as England faded, as his old life wasfading. 

He had a sense that he was finally freed. It was not like seeing Claireagain, but it was like not having to see anything else. 

"Until I'm dead I'm hers, and after I'm dead I'm hers, so that's allright, " he said to himself. "I haven't got to muddle things up anymore. "

The sea lay around them at dawn like a sheet of pearl--it was very emptybut for the gulls' wings beating to and fro out of the mist. 

Winn had lived through many campaigns. He had known rough jungle tusslesin mud swamps, maddened by insects, thirst, and fever; he had fought incolder, cleaner dangers down the Khyber Pass, and he had gone throughthe episodic scientific flurries of South Africa; but Francedisconcerted him; he had never started a campaign before in a countrylike a garden, met by welcoming populations, with flowers and fruit. 

It made him feel sick. The other places were the proper ones for war. 

It was not his way to think of what lay before him. It would, like allgreat emergencies, like all great calamities, keep to its moment, andsettle itself. Nevertheless he could not free his mind from the presenceof the villages--the pleasant, smiling villages, the little churchtowers in the middle, the cobbled streets, the steep-pitched, gray roofsand the white sunny walls. 

Carnations and geraniums filled the windows, and all the inhabitants, the solid, bright-faced people, had a greeting for their khaki guests. 

"Voilà quelque choses des solides, ces Anglais!" the women called toeach other. 

Winn found himself shrinking from their welcoming eyes. He thought hehadn't had enough sleep, because as a rule a Staines did not shrink; butwhen he slept in the corner of the hot jolting railway train, he dreamedof the villages. 

They were to attack directly they arrived at their destination. By thetime they reached there, Winn knew more. He had gathered up the hastilyflung messages by telegram and telephone, by flying cars and frombreathless despatch riders, and he knew what they meant. 

They had no chance, from the first, not a ghost of a chance. They wereto hold on as long as they could, and then retreat. Part of the line hadgone already. The French had gone. No reinforcements were coming up. There were no reinforcements. 

They were to retreat turn and turn about; meantime they must hold. 

They could hear the guns now, the bright harvest fields trembled alittle under the impact of these alien presences. 

They came nearer and the sky filled with white puffs of smoke thatlooked like glittering sunset clouds, and were not clouds. Overhead thebirds sang incessantly, undisturbed even by the occasional drilling ofan aëroplane. 

In the plains that lay beneath them, they could see the dim blue linesof the enemy debouching. 

They made Winn think of locusts. He had seen a plague once in Egypt. They came on like the Germans, a gray mass that never broke--that couldnot break, because behind it there were more, and still more locusts, thick as clouds, impenetrable as clouds. 

You killed and killed and killed, and yet there were more clouds. 

Every now and then it ran through his mind like a flame, that they wouldspread this loathsome, defiling cloud over the smiling little villagesof France. 

Fortunately there was no time for pity; there were merely the differentways of meeting the question of holding on. 

It was like an attempt to keep back a tide with a teaspoon. 

Their guns did what they could, they did more than it seemed possibleguns could do. The men in control of them worked like maniacs. 

It was not a time to think of what people could do. The men were fallinglike leaves off a tree. 

The skylarks and the swallows vanished before the villainous occupationof the air. The infantry in the loosely built trenches held on, breathless, broken, like a battered boat in a hurricane, stout againstthe oncoming waves. 

The stars came out and night fell--night rent and tortured, darknessassaulted and broken by a myriad new lights of death, but stillmerciful, reassuring darkness. The moment for the retreat had come. 

It was a never-ending business, a stumbling, bewildering business. Theguns roared on, holding open indefatigably, without cessation, the wayof their escape. 

Much later they got away themselves, dashing blindly in the wake oftheir exhausted little army, ready to turn at command and hold again, and escape again, and once more hold the unending blue lines, with theirunnumbered guns, unwinding like an endless serpent in their rear. 

The morning showed them still retreating. Sometimes they were milesahead and could see nothing but the strangely different barred andshivering villages, small settlements of terror, in an untroubled land. 

There were no flowers flung upon them now, only hurried gaspingquestions, "Are they coming?" "How far are they behind you?"

Sometimes they were halted for half an hour at a time, and sat in hedgesand ate, or meant to eat, and slept between the bites. 

Occasionally they surprised small bands of wandering Uhlans, and ifthere was time took them prisoners, and if there was no time, shot themin rows against white walls. 

Once they met a troop out of one of their own divisions, led by asolitary subaltern of nineteen, with queer fixed eyes, who didn't knowwho he was. All he could say, "I brought them out. "

Despatch riders hurled themselves upon the Staff with orders; very oftenthey had conflicting orders; and they always had dust, trouble withhorses, trouble with motor ambulances, trouble with transport. Enragedheroic surgeons achieving hourly physical miracles, implored with tearsto be given impossible things like time. Of course they couldn't havetime. 

Then in the midst of chaos, orders would come to hold. The gunsunlimbered, the transports tore madly ahead. Everything that could becleared off down the road was cleared off, more rough trenches were dug, more hot and sullen hours of waiting followed, and then once more thenoise, the helpless slaughter, the steady dogged line gripping theshallow earth, and the unnumbered horde of locusts came on again, eatingup the fields of France. 

Sometimes whole regiments entrained under the care of fatherly Frenchrailway officials, curiously liable to hysteria on ordinary excursiondays, but now as calm as Egyptian Pyramids in the face of nationaldisaster. They pieced together with marvelous ingenuity the brokenthread of speech presented to them by the occasional French scholarsupon the British Staff; but more often still they shook polite andemphatic heads, and explained that there quite simply were no trains. The possible, yes; but the impossible, no. One could not create trains. So the men went on marching. They did not like retreating, but theymoved as if they were on parade in front of Buckingham Palace, and whenthey held, they fought as winners fight. 

It was not until they reached the Marne that Winn found time to write toClaire. "We are getting on very nicely, " he wrote. "I hope you are notworrying about us. We have plenty to eat, though we have to take ourmeals a little hurriedly. 

"There is a good deal of work to do. 

"This war is the best thing that ever happened to me--bar one. Before Icame out I thought I should go to pieces. I feel quite free to write toyou now. I do not think there can be any harm in it, so I hope you won'tmind. If things do not seem to be going very well with us at first, remember that they never do. 

"Every campaign I ever went in for, we were short-handed to start with, and had to fight against odds, which doesn't matter really if you havethe right men, but always takes longer and looks discouraging tooutsiders. The men are very good and I am glad the War Office let mecommandeer the boots I wanted--the kind they offered me at firstwouldn't have done at all for this sort of work. It is rather hard notbeing with the men more, but the work is very absorbing, so I do notmind as much as I did. 

"I think the regiment will come out later, and they have promised to letme go back into it. I am sorry about the villages. It's a pity theGermans slopped over into France at all. I found two Uhlans yesterday ina farmyard; they had been behaving badly, so I did them both in. 

"One very seldom sees any of them, worse luck. 

"I hope you are taking great care of yourself and not worrying. Yourloving Winn. "

In the weeks that followed, Claire got many letters. They were shortletters, written in flying motors, in trains, in outhouses, in romanticchâteaux; but they all began in the same reassuring way. "I am verywell, and we are getting on quite nicely. "

The Allied line was being flung out in wild curves and swoops like theflight of a dove before a hawk; from Soissons up toward Calais theyfenced and circled. 

They retook Rheims, they seized Amiens. Lille fell from them and Laon. 

The battle of the Aisne passed by slow degrees out of their hands, andthe English found themselves fighting their extraordinary first fightfor Ypres. They stood between the Germans and the Channel ports asthinly as a Japanese screen, between England and the Atlantic. The verycamp cooks were in the trenches. 

Time fled like a long thunderous hour. It was a storm that flashed andfell and returned again. 

Winn was beginning to feel tired now. He hardly slept at night, and byday his brain moved as if it were made of red-hot steel, flying rapidlyfrom expedient to expedient, facing the hourly problems of that wild andwet October, how to keep men alive who never rested, who were too few, who took the place of guns. He wrote more seldom now, and once he said, "We are having rather a hard time, but we shall get through with it. "

Fortunately all Englishmen are born with a curious pioneer instinct, and being the least adaptable people in the world, they have learned themore readily to adapt the changes of the hour. 

They remade their external world, out of this new warfare. 

They remade it at the cost of their lives in Flanders, in the face ofincredulous enemies and criticizing neutrals, painstakingly, withoutscience, doggedly out of their own wills. They held Ypres by a thread, and when it seemed that nothing could keep it, one cold and dreadful dayalong the Menin road came up their reinforcements. 

First one group and then another of tall, dark people, silent footed asfalling leaves, turbaned black faces, eyes of appalling and unearthlygravity, hearts half like a rock and half like a child, alien captivepeople of another blood, took their place silently, regiment by regimentblocking up the dreadful gaps with their guns, their rifles, and thefree gift of their lives. 

"Lionel has come, " Winn wrote, "and all my men. I never was so glad ofanything, but you. Send me all the warm things you can. The winter willbe quite jolly now when the men get used to the trenches. It's a funnything, but they've given me command of the regiment. I hadn't expectedit, but I've always liked handling Sikhs. Whatever happens, you'llremember that I've been an awfully lucky chap, won't you?"

CHAPTER XXXI

Lionel and Winn talked of the regiment and the war; these two thingsfilled the exacting hours. In a world a very long way off and in thedepths of their hearts were England and Claire. 

They spent three weeks in the trenches, blackened and water clogged andweary. 

It was the darkest time of a dark December, the water was up to theirwaists, there was no draining the treacherous clay surfaces. The mensuffered to the limit of their vitality and sometimes passed it; theyneeded constant care and watching. It had to be explained to them thatthey were not required to give up their lives to spirits, in a land thatworshiped idols. Behind the strange lights and noises heralding deaththere were solid people who ate sausages, and could be killed. 

One or two small parties led in night attacks overcame the worst oftheir fears. 

Later on when the mud dried they could kill more; in the end all wouldbe killed, and they would return with much honor to their land ofsunshine. 

To the officers who moved among them, absorbed in the questions of theircare, there was never any silence or peace, and yet there was a strangecontent in the huddled, altered life of their wet ditch. 

Every power of the will, every nerve of the body, was being definitelyused. Winn and Lionel felt a strange mood of exultation. They pushedback difficulties and pierced insoluble problems with prompt escapes. Only from time to time casualties dropped in upon them grimly, impervious to human ingenuity. 

In the quieter hours of the night, they crouched side by sideformulating fresh schemes and going over one by one the weak points oftheir defenses. 

They hadn't enough guns, or any reinforcements; they had no dry clothes. The men were not accustomed to wet climates or invisible enemies. 

They wanted more sand-bags and more bombs, and it would be better forhuman beings not to be in trenches for three weeks at a time in therain. 

They sat there pitting their brains against these obstacles, creatingthe miraculous ingenuity of war. Personal questions dropped. Lionel sawthat Winn was ill beyond mending, but he saw it without definitethought--it was one more obstacle in a race of obstacles. It wouldn't dofor Winn to break down. He fitted himself without explanations, selflessly, with magnificent disinterestedness, into his friend's needs. He was like a staff in the hand of a blind man. 

Winn himself had begun to wonder, moving about in his sea of mud, howmuch worse you could be before you were actually done. His cough shookhim incessantly, his brain burned, and his hands were curiously weak. Hewas conscious that he had to repeat to himself all day long the thingshe had to do; even then he might have forgotten if there had not beenLionel. He might have forgotten to give orders. In spite of everything astrange inner bliss possessed him which nourished him like food. He hadClaire's letters, they never failed him, they were as regular as thebeats of a heart. Something in him lived that had never lived before, something that did not seem likely ever to die. 

It was helping him as Lionel was helping him to get through things. Whathe had to get through was dying. It was going to be quicker than the waythey had of dying in Davos, but it mightn't be quick enough; it mightdrive him out of his last fight, back to an inconceivable stale world. 

This must not happen. Lionel must live and he must die, where he was. You could bully fate, if you were prepared to pay the price for it. 

Winn was not sure yet what the price would be, he was only sure that hewas prepared to pay it. 

They were to be relieved next day. The men were so worn out that theycould hardly move. Winn and Lionel found their own bodies difficult tocontrol; they had become heavy and inert from want of sleep, but theirminds were alive and worked with feverish swiftness, like the minds ofpeople in a long illness, when consciousness creeps above the level ofpain. 

Winn had just returned from his evening round of the trenches. Lionelwas resting in his dug-out; he heard Winn's approach. Winn was coughingagain--a little choking, short cough. 

He bent double and crouched down beside Lionel without speaking. 

"Well, " said Lionel, "to-morrow we'll be out of this. About timetoo--with that cough of yours. "

Winn was silent for a moment, then he said, "I suppose you know I'mnearly done?"

Lionel bowed his head. "Yes, " he muttered, "I suppose I know it. "

After a pause Winn began again. 

"There isn't much good talking, of course. On the other hand, you may aswell know what I feel. I've had tremendous luck in one way and another. I never expected to get the regiment, for instance--and your coming outhere and all that. I've seen how jolly things could be. "

"You haven't had them, " said Lionel in a low voice. "The things youwanted most, I mean. Your pitch was queered too soon. "

"I don't know, " said Winn, painstakingly. "In a sense, of course, youhaven't had things if you've only seen 'em. Still when you come to thinkof it, you partly have. Look at the Germans; we've worked considerablyinto them without seeing 'em, haven't we? What I mean is that Iappreciate goodness now; I see its point. Not that I'd have kept clear amoment by myself. I hope you quite understand that? I've been ablackguard and I'd have been a worse one if I'd had the chance. But I'mglad I hadn't the chance now. I don't know that I'm putting the thingstraight--but you know what she's like? Thank God I couldn't alter her!"

They listened for a moment to the night. Their ears were always awake, registering sounds from the sodden, death-ridden fields beneath them, and above, but they heard nothing beyond the drip of the rain, anoccasional groan from a man tortured by rheumatism, and the long-drawnscream of a distant shell. 

"You can call yourself what you like, " said Lionel at last. "I know whatyou are, that's enough for me, and she knew it; that's one reason I gotto caring for her. 

"I dare say that seems a rummy thing to you, to care for a womanbecause she cares for another man. But it's a fact. "

Winn moved uneasily. Then he said abruptly, "Look here, young 'un, I waswrong before when I asked you to step in instead of me, but I'm notwrong now. You can take it from me she'll marry you in the end. She'syoung; be patient. I dare say she'll think for a time she's had enough, but she hasn't. There's no good living a lonely life. We may both getdone in, of course. But I don't fancy we shall. I want you to promise menot to get killed if you can help it. 

"Keep away from me if you think I'm getting into trouble, because Isha'n't be getting into trouble, I shall be getting out of it, d'yousee?"

The guns sounded nearer, a machine gun rattled sharply in their ears, asif it had been let off in their dug-out. 

"I sha'n't care for anybody else, " said Lionel, quietly, "and I shallwait all my life for her. As for not being killed--you don't want me toshirk my job, of course; bar that, I sha'n't ask for trouble. "

Winn said, "All right--then that's that! I'm going to sleep. "

They neither of them slept. 

It came very quickly and confusedly toward dawn. The silence was rentacross like a piece of torn silk. The crash of bombs, the peppery, sharpdetonation of rifles broke up the sullen air. Out of the dark, vagueshapes loomed, the trench filled with the sound of deep breathing andscuffling, and the shriek of sudden pain. 

Death and mud and darkness closed together. 

It was all over in half an hour, the attack was driven out, and the menmoved uncertainly about, trying to discover their dead, and relievetheir wounded. 

The dawn was gray and in the half light, Winn saw Lionel's eyes open andshut; the blood was pouring from a hideous wound in his side. 

"You've got to live, " Winn said grimly, bending over him. "No damnednonsense about it! You've got to live. " Lionel's eyes closed again andhe knew nothing more of the rough bandaging, the endless waiting in thesodden trench while Winn sat motionless beside him, watching hisflickering breath. In the hours of the interminable journey, Lionelroused himself sometimes and heard again like a perpetual refrain, "You've got to live. " The motor ambulance jarred and bumped it, thewheels of the train echoed it through the fever in his brain. He woke inEngland knowing that he was going to live. 

[Illustration: "You've got to live, " said Winn, bending grimly over him;"You've got to live!"]

A few hours later Winn went to see the general of his division. "I wantyou to let me have another twenty-four in, sir, " he explained. "Theywon't expect an attack so soon. I know my men are not very fresh, butit'll wake them up. They've stood a good lot. I've been talking to 'em. They want to get a bit of their own back. That trench of theirs is toonear us in any case. They'd be better pushed back. "

The general hesitated, but Winn's fiery sunken eyes held and shook him. 

"Well, Staines, " he said, "you know what you can do with your men, ofcourse. Have it your own way. When do you want to attack?"

"Soon as they've settled off to sleep, " said Winn, "just to give 'em anight-cap. "

"Don't lose too many men, " said the general, "and above all come backyourself. "

"That's as may be, " said Winn. "If I can get the men over quietly in abit of mist, I sha'n't lose too many of 'em. I've told them if they'retoo fagged to stand, they'd better fight. They quite agree about it. "

Winn led the attack with the last of his strength, and in the fiercenessof his rage with life. 

A white fog hung over the fields like the shadow of a valley filled withsnow. 

The men fought like demons--strange shapes in the fog, with here andthere as the flames shot up, the flash of their black faces, set tokill. 

Winn's voice rallied and held them above the racket of the spittingrifles, and the incessant coughing of the guns. It was the Staines voicelet out on a last voyage. To have gone back against it would have beenmore dangerous than to go on against the guns. 

They seized the trench and held it, there were no prisoners taken in thedark, and after the first light they ceased to hear Winn's voice. 

The sun came out and showed them all they had won, and what they hadlost. 

Winn lay peacefully between the old trench and the new, beyondresentment, beyond confusion, in the direct simplicity of death. 

THE END