The Kingdom Round the Corner--_A Novel_

BOOKS BY MR. DAWSON

_NOVELS_

THE KINGDOM ROUND THE CORNER

THE GARDEN WITHOUT WALLS

SLAVES OF FREEDOM

THE RAFT

LAST CHANCE RIVER

THE ROAD TO AVALON

_SHORTER STORIES_

THE LITTLE HOUSE--_Illustrations by Stella Langdale_

THE SEVENTH CHRISTMAS--_Illustrations by Edmund Dulac_

THE UNKNOWN COUNTRY--_Illustrations by W. C. Rice_

_WAR BOOKS_

CARRY ON: LETTERS IN WAR-TIME

THE GLORY OF THE TRENCHES

OUT TO WIN: THE STORY OF AMERICA IN FRANCE

LIVING BAYONETS: A RECORD OF THE LAST PUSH

THE TEST OF SCARLET: A ROMANCE OF REALITY

_POEMS_

FLORENCE ON A CERTAIN NIGHT

THE WORKER AND OTHER POEMS

[Illustration:]"_I'm sorry, " Tabs apologized. "I didn't mean anythingunkind. _"

_The_ Kingdom Round the Corner--_A Novel_

_By_ CONINGSBY DAWSON

_Illustrated by W. D. Stevens_

 "_To every man the woman whom he loves is as Mother Earth was to her legendary son: he has but to kneel and kiss her breast to know that he is strong again. _"--Michelet

NEW YORK

Cosmopolitan Book Corporation

_M C M X X I_

_Copyright, 1921, by Cosmopolitan Book Corporation, New York. --Allrights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including that of the Scandinavian_

_Printed in the United States of America_

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I PAGEAN ALTERED WORLD 7

CHAPTER II

RETRIEVERS OF YOUTH 54

CHAPTER III

ALL SORTS OF KINGDOMS 94

CHAPTER IV

THE COMPLICATIONS OF MAISIE 134

CHAPTER V

THE AIR OF CONQUEST 172

CHAPTER VI

TRAMPLED ROSES 217

CHAPTER VII

SOME PEOPLE FIND THEIR KINGDOMS 262

CHAPTER VIII

ROUND THE CORNER 311

The Illustrations by

W. D. Stevens

"I'M SORRY, " TABS APOLOGIZED. "I DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHINGUNKIND. " (Page 33) _Frontispiece_

 FACING PAGE

TABS EXTENDED HIS HAND. BRAITHWAITE MADE NO MOTIONTO TAKE IT. 130

"MRS. LOCKWOOD, WHY CAN'T YOU LET ADAIR ALONE?" 172

"I WAS AFRAID YOU HAD LEFT" 324

_The_ Kingdom Round the Corner

CHAPTER THE FIRST

AN ALTERED WORLD

I

It was on a blustering March morning in 1919 that Tabs regained hisfreedom. His last five months had been spent among doctors, havingsundry bullets extracted from his legs. He walked with a limp which wasnot too perceptible unless he grew tired. His emotions were similar tothose of a man newly released from gaol: he felt dazed, vaguely happyand a little lost. He felt dazed because he hadn't remembered that theworld was so wide and so complicated. He felt lost because he wasdiscovering that this wasn't the same old world that he had left in1914. It hadn't paid him the compliment of marking time during hisabsence; it had marched impolitely forward. He would have to hurry toovertake it. What made him feel most lost at the moment was the factthat he had only just realized how his bravest years had been escaping. The reason for this realization was Terry. He had been accustomed tothink of himself as in the first flush of manhood, with all life'sconquests still lying ahead; it was therefore a little disconcerting tobe told, as a matter of course, that he had only four more years to gotill he was forty. "I'll be there at the station to meet you, " Terry hadwritten him. And then, she had added laughingly, "Father orders me tosay that he only gives his permission because you're such an old friendand nearly middle-aged. "

Middle-aged! He, Tabs, middle-aged! The thought was appalling. It was aslander so almost true as to be incapable of disproving. He had to-day, to-morrow, and the next day; after that people would have the right tosay of him that he was middle-aged. That was the real sacrifice that hehad made in the war--he had given to it the last of his youth. And hehad not been aware of this until he had received that letter. 

Now that he was aware of it, he rebelled against the sacrifice. Herefused to be robbed. He would not allow himself to become middle-aged. Why, he hadn't begun to live yet. He'd only been experimenting up to thepoint when the war had started. He'd been thirty-one then, a man full ofpromise, and now he was dubbed middle-aged. He remembered withindignation the theory that men of forty ought to be chloroformed tomake room for the younger generation. "But, hang it, one's years havenothing to do with it, " he protested; "in my spirit I belong to theyounger generation. " So, to the rumbling accompaniment of the train, heargued his claims passionately. Had he formed them into a petition hewould have prayed, "God, make me young again. " It would have beenbecause of Terry that he would have prayed. 

And yet he was happy--vaguely happy, as any man must be to whom theright to live has been restored. For the past half decade his horizon, and that of all the men with whom he had intimately associated, had beendwarfed by the thought of dying. Throughout that period he had dared tohope for nothing personal; he had belonged body and soul to unseenforces which had hurried him without explanation from one hell toanother. He had had to subdue his pride to their authority and to trainhis courage to contemplate the shock of annihilation. Now, at the end ofalmost five years, the will and the body which had been so ruthlesslysnatched from him, had been as ruthlessly flung back into his ownkeeping. All of a sudden, after having been enslaved in every detail, his will and body were set free and no one cared what became of them. They could be his playthings; he was allowed to do with them what heliked. But what did he like? It was a problem. He could so easily spoilthem. When he reminded himself of how easily he could spoil them thefear of death, which would never again trouble him, was replaced by thefear of failure. He was furious to find that he was still capable offearing. He had so confidently believed that, whatever the past fiveyears had stolen from him, they had at least brought him the reward ofnever again knowing fear of any sort. 

That morning by the earliest train he had shaken off the dust of campsand started in civilian dress as his own master on the new journey. Itwas characteristic of him to start early and to slip out of his latestphase with so little fuss. For the first two years of his service, whilemen of his class were gaining high promotions, he had served in theranks. He had done it as a uselessly proud protest. In the ranks one didthe real work, faced most of the danger and won the fewest decorations. He had loved the ranks for their quiet self-effacement and had preferredto be reckoned in their number. 

It had been dawn when he had started. From the top of the hill above thecamp he had gazed back at the huddled, sleeping rows of hutments. Howlacking in individuality they were! How wilfully ugly! You could seetheir like in the rear of all armies. The military mind seemed incapableof appreciating differences and beauty. How stereotyped the past fiveyears had been; yes, and, while the danger had threatened, how ennobledwith duty! So ennobled that there had been times when it had almostseemed that he was on the point of finding his kingdom. 

What he hadn't expected was that he would be alive to-day. With thatthought gratitude had bubbled up and he had limped away, whistling, through dim lanes and budding hedgerows to the little wayside countrystation. 

But once on board the train to London, he began to feel more like afugitive escaping than a hero returning. This wasn't the end ofsoldiering that imagination had painted. There had been strident bandsand hysteric shouting to start him on his way to the conflict. Therehad been pictorial challenges to his courage pasted on every hoarding. There had been extravagant promises of the welcome which would await himif he survived. Who remembered them to-day? He hummed over the words ofthe latest promise, "If you come back, and you will come back, the wholeworld's waiting for you. " Was it? He doubted. There was somethingunpleasantly furtive about the way in which men were being stripped oftheir outward signs of valor and dribbled back into civilian life. Italmost seemed that statesmen had discovered something to be ashamed ofin the unforeseen heroism by which the world had been rescued. 

What did it matter? The world had been saved, and he had helped to saveit. No one could deprive him of that knowledge. His joy leapt up. Whatdid it matter if other people considered him nearly middle-aged? He andTerry must prove to them the contrary. He was free; that was whatcounted. Free to reckon his life by more than stretches of twenty-fourhours. Free to rise or go to bed when he liked. Free to travel to theends of the earth. Free to speak his mind without the dread of acourt-martial. Never again would he be compelled to issue orders whichhe knew to be unwise; never again would he be compelled to obey them. Hewas free. And there was Terry----

II

Across the carriage-windows landscapes went leaping: the bleak clearnessof brisk March skies; the shining grayness of meadows from which mistswere slowly rising; the faint flush of greenness which was gathering inhedges; the shy pageant of spring unfolding, with the promised certaintyof new summers which are never ending. The world looked young. As thetrain dashed by, new-born lambs, unused to such disturbances, tottered, bleating, after their mothers. Buds were bursting. Sap was rising. Thechapped scars of winter were vanishing. Things which had seemed deadwere being convulsed with life. He watched it all gladly and yetimpatiently; it was for the end of the journey that he was waiting. 

On nearing London the train slowed down as though reluctant to leave thecountry. Twice it halted and he consulted his wrist-watch with a frown. Then it crept through Battersea, wound snake-like across the gleamingThames, and came to rest in Victoria Station. Despite his lameness, hewas the first passenger to alight. He had no luggage to attend to, savethe newly-purchased bag which he carried. He lost no time in hurryingdown the platform; when he hurried his limp became more pronounced. Ashe passed through the barrier he slackened his pace. By reason of hisgreater height he could glance above the heads of the crowd; his eyeswent questing in all directions. They failed to find what they sought. He delayed until nearly all the people from the incoming trains hadscuttled into the holes of the Underground; then, masking hisdisappointment, he wandered out into the station-yard to hail a taxi. AnArmy Staff car was drawn up against the curb. A thrill of hostilityshot through him. How often, in the old days, when marching up to anattack, had he and his comrades huddled to the side of the road likesheep that these khaki-colored collies of the shepherds, who had driventhem up to die, might splash arrogantly past them! He eyed it casuallyand was passing on, when a girl in the back seat stood up franticallywaving. She was dressed in the latest whim of fashion; but it was herthat he saw rather than her appointments. Her gold bobbed hair was likea Botticelli angel's. Her eyes were clear and deep as violets. She wasexquisitely vibrant and alive--scarcely beautiful; her nose turned upand was too short for that. One sought for the right words to expressher attraction. Perhaps it was due to her light-hearted health andgirlish freshness. 

As he came up eagerly, limping with the effort, she reached out herhand. "Tabs, fancy you not knowing me! I don't need to call you LordTaborley, do I? Between us it's still Tabs. "

"Terry dear! My dear Terry, at last!" He spoke queerly as though he hadbeen running. Then, seeing how his intensity startled her, he let go herhand and laughed. "You can't blame me for not having spotted you. Where's all your beautiful hair that was so blowy?"

She glanced up through her lashes at the tall man. "'I'm growing such abig girl now'--you remember the refrain from the song at the Gaiety?That's why. When you were a young man, girls put their hair up to showthey were of age; nowadays they bob it. "

"So that's the explanation!" He climbed in and took his seat beside her. "That's another thing that disguised you. How was I to guess that you'dwangle a Staff car to meet an ex-lieutenant?"

"It belongs to a friend at the War Office. " She nodded her permission tothe trim girl-soldier at the wheel to start. "He lent it to me when heheard that I was to meet you this morning. Taxis are so scarce, and Ididn't know how well you could walk, so----" She turned from the subjectabruptly. "You're so changed. I scarcely recognized you at first. I wasexpecting that you'd still be in uniform. "

"I was demobbed yesterday. So you find me changed! For better or forworse? Confess, Terry. "

She was aware that beneath his assumption of gayety he was hidingsomething--something that pained. He had been hurt too much already. With impulsive sympathy she laid her hand on his arm. "It isn't a caseof better or worse. Between people like ourselves appearances don'tmatter. I think to me you were handsomest of all as a Tommy. How proud Iwas of you, Tabs, when you first joined up! Do you remember how I usedto strut along beside you---- And that last night, when you went for thefirst time to the Front?"

He remembered, and waited with boyish expectancy. She had stoppedsuddenly and glanced away from him. For the second time his intensityhad frightened her. He said nothing--did nothing to help her. Shemustered her courage to turn back with a smile. "It's long ago, isn'tit. Tabs? I've grown such a big girl now. "

He brushed aside her attempt to divert him. "But you find a differencein me?"

"A difference! You mean the difference between a man in uniform and inmufti? Why, yes. A uniform made you look younger. It did that for mostmen. "

"But more for me than for most. " He was pitiless towards himself nowthat he had forced her to answer. "I've aged more than the five yearssince you slipped your arm into mine as we marched through the darknessto the troop-train. You never shed a tear, Terry. You kept your promise. Often and often when I was afraid in the trenches I remembered you, awhite and gold slip of a girl with dry eyes, waving and waving. Andthen, somehow, because you'd kept your promise not to cry----"

"Don't, " she whispered. "Please don't. It's all ended. Everything's newand beginning afresh. "

"Beginning with you, " he questioned, "where it left off?"

If she heard him, she ignored the interrogation in his voice. 

III

The girl-soldier at the wheel relieved the situation. Since leaving thestation she had been running slower and slower, glancing back across hershoulder and trying to catch their attention. Just short of the greatcross-roads at Hyde Park Corner she brought the car to a halt. 

"What's the matter, Prentys?" Terry asked. "Anything wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, miss; but you've not told me where to go. "

The girl spoke so reproachfully that Terry laughed. "Awfully sorry, Prentys. It's Lord Taborley's fault. He didn't tell either of us. Whatare your plans, Tabs? Where do you want to go?"

"To go?"

He caught at her question and examined it. To go--where did he want togo? He had been so certain when he had boarded the train to London earlythat morning. Ever since he had said good-by to her, nearly five yearsago, he had known quite definitely. Each time that he had had a glimpseof her on those brief leaves from the Front, he had been more and moresure of the desired direction. Her letters coming up to him undershell-fire had made him even more certain--those letters compassionatewith unashamed sincerity, written with a girl's admiration for a man whowas jeopardizing his all that she might live in safety. 

And now, when he was free at last to go where he chose and she herselfasked him, he could find no answer to her question. Why couldn't he? Helooked at her thoughtfully with the frown of his problem in his eyes. What change had come over her? Or was it he who was altered? She hadseemed so absolutely his while the terror of battle had kept them apart. She had written and acted as though she was his right up to---- Yes, right up to the point when he had been in a position to claim her. 

Between him and Terry there had been no engagement--only a wealth ofinterchanged affection; interchanged for the most part on paper. Onceand only once had marriage been mentioned--on the night that he had setout for the first time for the Front. "You won't ask me, Tabs; I knowthat. You're too honorable. So I've got to say it. When you come backI'm going to marry you. "

"_If_ I come back, little Terry, " he had corrected. 

"But you will--you must, " she had pleaded, "for my sake. "

"I'll try. I'll try so hard, " he had promised. "But I won't marry youtill I'm out of khaki or the war is ended. "

"And I'll meet you at the train the moment you're free and we'll bemarried that very day. "

All this five years ago on a murky station in the tragedy of parting, while Belgium was being trampled and the troop-train waited. She hadeluded the vigilance of her parents and had met him outside thebarracks, without forewarning. Through the gloom of streets and the blurof the accompanying crowd, he had seen her face loom up. Her arm hadslipped through his; she had marched beside him like any Tommy'ssweetheart. She had been seventeen at the time; to-day she wastwo-and-twenty. In the years that had followed he had taken no step tomake that girlish promise binding, yet increasingly its fulfillment hadbeen the goal towards which he had struggled. 

After she had joined Lady Dawn's Nursing Unit and had gone to France hehad missed her on his leaves; by some fatality they had been alwaysmissing. She had existed for him only in their correspondence and in hisvivid imagination. And now, after so much hoping, she had become again areality. He had been prepared for strangeness, but not for---- Was ither youth, which was to have flung wide all doors, that formed thebarricade? Her youth which, if shared, would have put back the hands onthe face of Time! Her relentless, flaunting youth! Youth which isforever hostile to age!

Her growing and puzzled expression of impatience forced him to narrowhis answer to the requirements of the moment. "What are my plans, youasked? I haven't any. I'm a man at a loose end and at a beginning--likeall the world, as you yourself just stated. "

"Yes, but----"

"I know what you're going to say--that every one has to live somewhere. I have a place all right--my old place. "

"Shall I tell Prentys to drive you there?"

He shook his head and thrust out his long legs, throwing his weight moreheavily against the cushions. "Not unless you didn't read my letter. "

Her habitual sunniness clouded. "Tabs, you're trying to be beastly. If Ihadn't read it, I shouldn't have known to have met you, or when, orwhere. "

"Then you remember that it reminded you of----"

She cut him short, glancing furtively at the girl at the wheel to seewhether she had been listening. "I don't forget easily. Where do youwant to go? Would a run into the country suit you?"

"Excellently. "

"In what direction?"

"Makes no difference. "

She whispered something to the girl; the car semi-circled and gatheredspeed, shooting through the traffic which was lumbering towards theFulham Road and Surrey. 

Now that he had gained his point, he didn't seem inclined forconversation. He lolled back with his eyes half-shut; she sat boltupright, ignoring his presence. 

He recalled to-day as he had pictured it. Terry was to have been stillthe girl-woman who had wanted him so badly that she had been braveenough to ask for him. She was to have been precisely and in everydetail the girl from whom he had parted. She was to have been on theplatform waiting for him, and he.... 

Pshaw! What a sentimentalist and how easily disappointed! The old fightwas still on in another form. It was never ended. Life was a fight fromstart to finish, calling for new and yet newer courage. He refused to bedefeated. He would not be embittered. He would win his kingdom round thecorner, even though it proved to be a different kingdom from the one hehad expected. Terry couldn't have stayed seventeen always, which was themiracle he had demanded. She was a woman. He would have to teach her tolove him afresh. There was no time to be lost. For all he knew theremight be a rival--perhaps the mysterious some one at the War Office whohad lent her this car. He leant forward good-humoredly, touching herhand to attract her attention, "Terry. "

IV

She turned slowly, almost reluctantly. What new and disturbing questionwas he going to ask? She hadn't been prepared for this altered man withhis limp and his gauntness and his strained intensity. She couldn'tbring herself to believe that this grave, spent, unlaughing person ather side was Tabs, the gallant, care-free comrade she had asked to marryher. She was shocked both at him and at herself. And she had wanted tobe so glad--to make him feel that every one was so happy at having himback----

"Terry. "

At the sound of her name, spoken like that, a little thrill of hisold-time power stirred her; it traveled up to her eyes, so that she hadto press back the tears before she turned. 

"Terry, it was sentimental blackmail. I'm sorry. "

"What was? I don't understand. "

"That last letter. I oughtn't to have reminded you. What one promises atseventeen doesn't hold good. It was sporting of you to keep the promiseby meeting me this morning, but---- What I'm trying to say is this; I'mforgetting everything that you would like me to forget. "

"But I'm not sure that I want you to forget anything. " She widened herlips into a smile from which the trouble was only half dispelled. "Itsounds horrid and unfriendly, this talk of forgetting, as though---- Itsounds so much worse when it's put into words, as though we hadsomething of which to be ashamed. "

"No, it's not like that. May I be terrifically honest--just as we used?"

She eyed him doubtfully. It was evident that she was still timid of thetruth. Then she nodded. 

"Well, you know how it was between us before I went away. You were of anage when most people still thought of you as a child. You _were_outwardly, but inside you were almost a woman. The little girl didthings and promised things that the woman wouldn't approve to-day. Andthen take my side of it. I went out to a place where life seemed at anend and where, because of that, one became selfish in the demands hemade on the people whom he had left behind--especially on the women. Itwas impossible to be normal; probably I'm not quite normal now. But thepoint is this: every man in khaki thought intensely of some one girl. Itdidn't matter whether he had the right to think of her; he just thoughtof her, and wrote to her, and carried her photo with him up to anattack, as if he had the right. He wasn't even much disturbed as towhether, in allowing him to love her, she loved him in return or wasmerely being patriotic; he didn't expect to live to put things to atest. All he wanted was the belief that one woman loved him. Youunderstand, she was very often only a makeshift--a symbol for the womanhe would have married if death hadn't been in such a hurry. Well, forsome of us Death has had time to spare and we've come back--come backstarved, emotional, tyrannic--passionate to possess all the things forwhich our hearts have hungered and of which they have been deprived solong. It was easy to strip ourselves of everything when we thought wewere going to die. But now that we know we're going to live we'retempted to recover some of our lost years by violence. You must bepatient with us, Terry; we're sick children, querulous, eager to takeoffense and over-exacting. I was like that when I blackmailed you intomeeting me this morning. It was unworthy of me to have treated thatchild's promise as binding. "

"But I was seventeen; I wasn't a child. And I wanted to meet you--I didtruly. "

"Letting me down lightly?" he smiled. 

"No, an honest fact. "

When he gazed at her with kindly incredulity, she edged herself closerand bent forward in a generous effort to persuade him. 

"Don't you see that what you've said of yourself was true of me aswell?"

"I wasn't talking in particular of myself, " he parried; "I was includingall the other men. "

"Yes, but especially of yourself. It was of yourself that you weretalking. What you've said of yourself is true of me and--oh, of almostall women. We saw you men march away; you seemed lost to us forever. Everything seemed at an end. So we did what you did--chose one man whowould embody all our dreams and become especially ours. We wrote tohim, shopped for him, placed his portrait on our dressing-tables, wereanxious for him and, oh, so proud of him. We didn't stop to ask whetherhe was the man with whom we could live for always. There wasn't any_always_. It didn't look as though there was ever again going to be any_always_. And then the horror stopped and we found ourselves with a manon our hands--a man who, though we had known him so well, would comeback to us different. We hadn't meant to cheat him when we made allthose promises; but now that he's really ours, we're not sure thatwe---- All the ecstasies and tears that we wrote to him on paper----"She made a helpless gesture with her hands. "They don't seem real. It'snot our fault. They belonged to the part of nurses and soldiers that wewere acting. And now we've slipped out by the stage-door and we'vebecome ourselves. Don't you see, Tabs, we men and girls have got to findout afresh who we are? We've almost forgotten. "

She seemed to have made an end, when something else occurred to her. Sherecommenced hurriedly, "We women have been spendthrifts, too; we'vegiven away more than was wise--little bits of ourselves, not always tothe one man--sometimes in the wrong directions. But which is the rightdirection? When people who were risking so much for us begged for alittle of our affection, we never thought of that. We simply gaverecklessly--little bits of ourselves. Now that we've regained a future, with room for remorse and things like that, we've become suddenlycautious. The swing of the pendulum----" She turned to him, as thoughproffering a smile for his forgiveness, "It's our sudden caution thatmakes us seem mean and ungracious. But I _was_ tremendously interestedabout meeting you. "

"Interested! Not glad or ecstatic. It's a long road from dreams tofacts. "

"Yes. "

She said it humbly. He tried to catch the expression in her eyes, butall he saw was the flickering gold of her hair as the wind tossed itagainst the rounded whiteness of her neck. His brain kept muttering, "Little bits of herself! What did she mean by that?"

A barrel-organ was grinding out a tune; children danced in the sunshineon the pavement. As they flashed down the street the music followedthem. She twisted to look back and he caught her eyes. "Tabs, do youknow what it's playing?"

"Can't say I do. "

"It's out of the Elsie Janis revue at The Palace. I think it was writtenespecially for this moment. " She listened till the air reached therefrain and then sang the words, "_Après la guerre, there'll be a goodtime everywhere_. "

His stern face relaxed at her childishness. "Will there, Terry? I hopeso. Musical chaps aren't reliable authorities. They're----"

"You must _know_ so, " she interrupted valiantly. Then, forgetting hercaution, she slipped her small gloved fingers into the palm of his bigbrown hand. "You _must_. Even though I disappoint you ever so badly, you must know so, dear Tabs. You must seize your own good time atwhatever cost. One girl isn't all the world. "

V

"I wonder whether what we've been saying explains Adair. "

They were crossing one of the bridges over the Thames. He wasn't surewhich one. Moreover, he didn't care; it was enough for him that, wherever they were going, they were going together--racing into asun-crazed world where spring romped and shouted like a hoyden. Abovelazy chimney-pots trees patched the sky-line with sudden greenness. At agreater distance soft contours of hills lay shadowed beneath stampedingclouds. Coldly silver beneath the bridge the river flashed, dimpled hereand there by rapid feet where breezes, like adventurous children, rushedacross it. He noted the bowed windows of little houses along the banks, their whitened steps and shining brasses. He caught the far-blownfragrance of hyacinths; it set him dreaming of drifting bloom andflower-strewn ways of woodlands. A happy world, whatever the mentalstate of its inhabitants! A world which was doing its bravest best toplay the game by mankind! A world which was whispering at every portalof the senses that the business of living was immensely worth while! Aworld which----! He had reached this point, when the mention of Adairbrought him back to the cause of his philosophizing--the inscrutabletenderness of the girl, half sorceress, half penitent, seated at hisside. She had recovered her calmness by withdrawing her thin fingersfrom his enclosing hand. 

Adair Easterday! He didn't want to discuss him; he had more importantthings to talk about. Speaking absent-mindedly, "Adair doesn't need anyexplaining, " he said. 

"Oh, doesn't he?" she laughed softly and looked away, creating theimpression that she was leaving volumes unexpressed. 

Her air of wisdom provoked him. "Well, I've known him since we were boysat school together and I've never found him much of a conundrum. He'sbrilliant, and lazy, and kind. I think of all the men I've known he'sthe one who's most truly a gentleman; he's the one who has given mostpromise and who has fewest accomplishments to his credit. He may havepuzzled you as his sister-in-law; but to me, a man of his own age, hepresents no mystery. If anything he's too obvious; that and the factthat he allows himself to be too much absorbed by his wife are two ofthe reasons for his lack of success. "

"He doesn't allow himself to be too much absorbed by his wife now. " Shehad turned deliberately that she might watch the effect of her words. "He doesn't even pretend to care for Phyllis any longer. "

"Not care for her--his own wife! Nonsense! You can't make me believethat. " Then he reined himself in, for he suddenly realized that he wasunconsciously adopting the tones of an elder. "That was a terriblymodern accusation for you to make, Terry, just as if loyalties andaffections were ostrich-plumes and ermine to be worn or discarded withthe fashion. "

"That's just what they do seem to have become since we've all stoppedfighting, " she persisted. "And please don't look at me like that, Tabs, as though you were my commanding-officer. I'm not trying to be a cynicalyoung person; I'm simply stating facts. Look at all the men for whom thewar was a social leg-up. They were plumbers and bank-clerks and dentistsin 1914; by the end of 1918 they were Majors and Colonels andBrigadiers. They didn't know where the West End was till they got intouniforms. Since then they've learnt the way into all the clubs andfashionable hotels; they've spent money like water; they've been thecompanions of men and women whom they couldn't have hoped to have metunless the war had shaken us all out of our class-snobbishness. But nowthat the war's ended, these men whom every one flattered for theirbravery and whose social failings they excused while there was fightingto be done, have become worse snobs than ourselves. They've beeneducated out of the class for which they were fitted. War was theirchance; it's ended, and now they have to go back to their humble jobs, which are the only ones by which they can gain a livelihood. Worsestill, they've got to go back to their wives, who haven't shared theirgrandeurs, but who've played the game by them, taking care of theirchildren and standing by the wash-tub. Some of them can't face up to thechange. Peace has turned the world up-side-down. We're walking on ourheads. You're just out of hospital, but you'll know what I mean whenyou've been a week in London. "

"But nothing of what you've been saying applies to Adair Easterday, " heobjected. "He wasn't a profiteer in khaki; he wasn't even in khaki. Hemade nothing; he lost nearly everything he had. Moreover, whateverfaults he may have, he's always been a thorough-bred--a stickler forhonor; the kind of chap who, if he had to sink, would go down with allhis colors flying. Where his wife is concerned, he's a lover-for-all-timekind of fellow. "

She shook her head obstinately. "He isn't now. He's standing on his headlike the rest of us. "

"I'm certain you're mistaken. " He paused, half-minded to let the matterrest. He hated this contending. In the old days he and Terry had neverargued. He glanced at her; she was smiling in a sorry, amused fashion. It made him feel that in accusing Adair she had cast suspicion on everyman's constancy--his own included. Reluctantly he set himself to proveto her that she was incorrect. 

"When you were in France with Lady Dawn's Nursing Unit, I spent most ofmy leaves with Phyllis and Adair. We went about together. I lived intheir house, got to love their kiddies, knew all that went on there. Ithink a part of my motive was that being with your sister seemed tobring you nearer. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't noticefrictions and irritations. Adair was humiliated at being rejected by theArmy because he wasn't up to physical standards. He tried every trick, but was always turned down. He didn't like to be seen about town; hefelt that people were accusing him of being a slacker. He looked so wellthat he had always to be explaining why he wasn't in the trenches. Ittried his temper. Wherever he went soldiers were being treated asheroes. Women were pleased to be seen escorted by a uniform--his ownwife as well. And I'm bound to say Phyllis didn't help him. She pridedherself on having held on to her man as though it were something thatshe'd done herself. Adair used to flare up in a passion and tell her notto be a fool; then, because her foolishness was all because she lovedhim, her feelings were hurt. But to say that he doesn't love her is anexaggeration. If there's anything the matter, the trouble is not withhis heart but with his nerves. "

"Then you really haven't heard? I thought everybody----" She stifled ayawn. "It's the wind against my face. It always makes me sleepy, " sheapologized. "Since you haven't heard, I suppose I oughtn't to tell you. He's become the sort of skeleton in our family cupboard---- You're stillincredulous! That will please mother. She'll be almost happy when shelearns that there's at least one person who hasn't been told about it. She thinks that all the world talks of nothing else. As for Daddy, Phyllis was always his favorite and he adores her children. He goesabout trying to find some one who'll volunteer to horsewhip Adair. Ican't say that I feel that way myself. " Her hand stole out and touchedhis arm caressingly; it seemed as though she were appealing for herself. "We've all either done or are on the verge of doing something foolishthat we're sure to regret. It's not a time to be hard on anybody. To-morrow we may stand in need of sympathy ourselves. Horror hasshell-shocked every one, civilians as well as fighting-men. Theblackness of insecurity----! We're all convalescing. " She haltedabruptly, biting her lip and peering at him, suddenly aware that she hadbeen confessing herself. When he only looked puzzled, she finishedlightly, "So, you see, Tabs, though you'll think me terribly immoral, Ikeep a soft place in my heart for our skeleton. "

"But you don't tell me anything positive, " he complained. "What hasAdair done?"

"Done!" She stared at him. "That's what I have been telling you. He'sfallen in love with some one else. "

He was unwilling to believe what he had heard. 

"Some one else! Impossible!---- I'm sorry, Terry; I didn't mean that Idoubted your word. You mustn't be offended, but---- I'm picturingPhyllis. At her best she was good and sweet and pretty enough to holdany man. She was such a loyal little pal--only second best to you, Terry. And Adair--he was such a white man, so patient with her and sodevoted to the kiddies. I can't see him in the rôle of a runaway. Andwhat on earth would he gain by it that he hasn't got already? I don'twant to think that what you've told me---- It makes all fidelity seem socontemptibly temporary. "

Terry spoke gently. "Not that. It's infidelity that is temporary. A lotof us are unfaithful for the moment--it's a symptom of our illness. Yousaid something a little while ago about trying to regain one's lostyears by violence--that's what he's doing. He's mislaid the knack ofhappiness with Phyllis; he's trying to recover it with some one else. "

Tabs was still rebelling against the facts. "But he was such a staid oldfellow. "

Terry ignored his discursiveness. "I don't think I've done wrong inletting you into our family secrets. You'll be made a part of them assoon as you meet Daddy. When he heard that you were coming to town andthat I was going to see you, he said, 'Thank God for that. Taborley willbe able to do something. ' He has a pathetic belief in you, Tabs. One ofthe reasons why I was at the station this morning was that I might havethe chance to tell you first, before any one else had prejudiced youwith bitterness. Daddy wants you to dine with him to-night. He expectsyou to be the kind of moral policeman who makes the arrest. But it can'tbe done with morality. I don't think even you could manage to persuadeAdair at the present--not with moral arguments, anyhow. "

"Why not?"

"Because I've seen _her_. "

VI

It was at this moment that a sound like a pistol-shot occurred. The carcommenced to bump. The girl-driver applied the brakes, guided the carto the side of the road and jumped out. 

"Quite like the Front, " Terry cried cheerfully; "I expect you feel athome when you hear a noise like that. "

Tabs looked round. He had been too busy talking to notice where theywere. To the right, through wind-rumpled, tree-dotted meadows ran theThames, still intensely silver in the sunshine, but somehow blither andmore young than in London. Clouds flew high; everything was riotouslyspacious. Scattered through the vivid stretch of landscape ivy-coveredhouses stood squarely in their park-lands. Set down in the leveldistance, like children's toys, cattle browsed. The quiet greenness hadbecome starred as far as eye could carry with a gentle rain of myriadtinted petals. 

"The car's got a sense of beauty, " he laughed; "it chooses carefullywhen it wants to break down. "

"And it's all at the Government's expense, " Terry smiled, glancing backat him across her shoulder as she scrambled out. "So it's a back tire. How long will it take to put right, Prentys?---- Then we may as wellwalk and let you overtake us. I don't think we're more than a mile fromOld Windsor. We'll get something to eat at the little inn by theriverside. You remember the one I mean? We've been there several timeswhen the General was with us. "

"What General is that?" Tabs asked as they trudged along between thehedges. 

"The General who lent me the car, " she replied. 

"Oh, your friend at the War Office! I suppose he's one of the dug-outswho's been there all the time. "

"He isn't. He rose from the ranks. He's only been at a desk job sincethe Armistice. " She spoke defensively, with a certain resentment. Tabswas quick to detect the sharpness in her voice. "I'm sorry, " heapologized; "I didn't mean anything unkind. "

She halted with a sudden gesture of concern. "I _am_ inconsiderate. Inever thought of it. Won't this walking wear you out?"

"She's changing the subject, " he told himself. "I wonder why?" Aloud hesaid, "Not a bit. But I can't stride along the way we used in the olddays. "

Branching off to the right, they came down to a little inn by thewater-side. It was shabby with the look of disrepair which all inns hadat that time. Its paint was chapped and faded; its windows cracked andheld together by pasted strips of paper. The putty had perished inplaces, so that some of the panes were on the point of falling out. Nevertheless, it had a brave look of carrying on triumphantly, fortulips and crocuses were springing neat as ever from the turf and it wasover-hung by a green mist of trees just coming into leafage. Theyentered and took their seats at a table from which they could watch thepale flowing of the river through the spangled peace of the outsideworld. 

"It was lucky we broke down. " Terry sat watching him with her squarelittle face cushioned in her hands. "You see I'm training myself tobelieve, " she explained, "that everything happens for the best. "

"A comforting philosophy for the lazy, " he smiled. "It lets us all outof resisting temptation. Why resist anything, if everything happens forthe best? If it were true, it would give us the license to be as flabbyas we liked--which rather falls in line with what we were saying aboutAdair. But who is she--this woman? You say you've seen her. "

"You'll know soon enough for your peace of mind--probably you'll see heryourself before the day is out. "

"But can't you even tell me her name?"

"Her name's Maisie Lockwood for the present. "

"For the present! Why for the present?"

"Because one's never certain about Maisie. She was Maisie Gervis onceand Maisie Pollock before that; there must have been a time when she wasMaisie Something Else. "

Tabs couldn't quite make up his mind whether he ought to laugh or frown. The suspicion had crossed his mind that this composed imp of a girl, whocould look so immensely the young lady when she liked, was playing a slygame with him. However he pretended to take her seriously. "In mostsocial sets names are fairly permanent. "

Terry laughed outright and looked away from him, following the riverwith her eyes. "There's nothing permanent about Maisie. I think that'sher attraction; that's what makes people forgive her everything. Shestarts each day afresh--it really is a new day for her, with no oldhates or griefs or dreads to drag her down. She has no regrets becauseshe remembers nothing. Whatever happened yesterday she puts out of mind;she forgets everything except her willingness to be friends. "

"Her names as well, according to your account. "

"Yes, there's no denying that. Until the war ended, if you'd not seenher for a month, you were never quite sure how you ought to address her. Even now one's liable to make a mistake. To-day she's Maisie Lockwood;to-morrow she may be Maisie Anything--Mrs. Adair Easterday, perhaps. "

Under her willful mystifications his calmness was getting ruffled. Whilehe listened to her, he kept comparing this day with the other day thathis imagination had painted. The world was to have been so much betterand kinder when the agony of the trenches was ended. It was in orderthat it might be better that so many men had not come back. And this wasthe kinder world--a world in which men, saved from the jaws of death, met the girls they had loved as strangers, in whose presence, if theywere to avoid offense, they must pick their words! A world full of menlike Adair, who had been honorable until others had made them safe bytheir sacrifice, and of women like Maisie of the many names, who forgother yesterdays that she might seize her selfish personal happiness!

"Terry, " he spoke with a show of patience, "do you think it's a matterabout which to jest? There's your sister and her kiddies; their future'sat stake. If I'm to be of any help----" He broke off, for a voice insidehis brain had started talking, "You're old. That's exactly the way inwhich her father speaks to her. " Was it her thoughts that he had heard?Her face was lowered; he could see nothing but the top of her goldenhead. Youth radiated from her; even in his anger it intoxicated him. 

"So if I'm to help, " he picked up his thread, "you mustn't mock. Itisn't decent, Terry; the situation's too serious. Let me have the facts. How does she come by all these different names? Does she call herselfsomething different with each new dress?"

Terry's eyes were wide and sorry. "No, with each new husband, but----"There came a break in her voice, "Oh, Tabs, I can't bear that you shouldbe cross with me. You've been disappointed in me from the moment we met. We're not the same. And I know it's not all my fault. And----"

Her lips trembled. He was in terror lest she would give way to crying. If it hadn't been for the table that parted them with its unromanticdébris of dishes---- As it was he leant across and assured herearnestly, "I'm not cross with you, my dearest girl. I'm---- Terry, howis it that we've drifted so apart? I keep groping after the old Terry;for a minute I think I've found her, and then she's no longer there. "

Drying her eyes, she nodded. "It hurts most frightfully. That's what Ikeep doing, barking my shins in the dark, trying to follow the old Tabs. He's always going away from me----"

"I think it's the laughter that I miss most, " she said presently;"you've grown so stern. "

"I've seen stern things happen--a kind of Judgment Day. It's rememberedthings that are so silencing. "

"I know what you mean. I saw some of those things in our hospital inFrance. " She shut her eyes as if the memory was unbearable. "But don'tbe hard on people who have a right to be young and who want to forget. It isn't that they're ungrateful. " Then she surprised him, "People likeMaisie and myself. "

"Don't couple yourself with her. " He spoke more sharply than he hadintended. 

"But she was with me out there, " she expostulated. "That was how she mether second husband, Gervis. She nursed him. "

"It makes no difference how she met him; she's not in your class--awoman who has been divorced three times. "

"But she hasn't. Whatever made you think that?" Terry shot upright onher chair, for all the world like a startled rabbit. 

"You told me she'd had three husbands. " He was once more puzzled anduncertain of his ground. "You as good as said that she wouldn't beaverse to making a fourth of Adair. I therefore conjectured----"

"You conjectured all wrong, " she cut him short. "They died for theircountry. "

"All of them?" He was making a rapid calculation as to how long couldhave elapsed between each re-marriage. 

"One at a time, of course, " she added. "She was married to the firstthe first week of the war. "

"Even so it was quick work. May I light a cigarette? Three husbands infour years! She must be a very alluring person!"

Terry laughed nervously. "She is, though you mayn't think it. I can seeyou don't; you think she's horrid. But let me tell you it takes a smartwoman to bring three men to the point of matrimony when the world's sofull of unmarried girls. And they were every one of them more or lessfamous--the kind of men of whom any woman would be proud. You'llremember Pollock--Reggie Pollock; he was one of the earliest of ouraces--the man who brought down the Zeppelin over Brussels and got killedhimself a few days later, no one quite knew how. There was a mysteryabout his death. He was the man to whom she was first married. "

"A splendid chap! And I recall her now. Her portrait was in theillustrated papers at the time of her third marriage. It was headed _AConscientious War-Worker_ or something like that. And I don't forget thename the soldiers called her when they read the papers in the trenches. "

"Did they call her something?" She was gazing at him intently. "Was itsomething brutal that you wouldn't like to tell me?"

"It was something true, " he said, pinching out his cigarette with quietfierceness. 

"Oh, I don't know----" She broke off to ask the waitress whether the carhad arrived and was answered in the affirmative. "I don't know about itsbeing true. After all, she made three men happy before they went West. I don't see that she'd have been any more to be admired if she'd allowedthe last two to go wretched. "

Tabs half-rose and then reseated himself. "An awful woman! Insatiable! ALucrezia Borgia, without Lucrezia Borgia's excuse. "

"I knew you'd say that. " Terry spoke hopelessly in a tone that dragged. "How do you or I know what excuses she had? How do we know why anybodydoes anything--what hidden reasons they have? And yet we're always soeager to condemn! I wanted to be the first to let you know about Adairbecause you always used to understand. You would have understood ifyou'd been the _you_ that you were. I thought that if I explained to youabout Maisie---- But what's the use!"

She rose from her chair and stood leaning against the table, lookingwilted and pathetic. When she spoke again the heat had gone out of herwords and was replaced by an appealing tenderness. "Don't you see whatit is--why it is that I don't condemn? I'm so sorry for them--so sorryfor you, for myself, for everybody. It hurts me here, Tabs. " She laidher hand against her breast. "We all want what we've spent in the lostyears. We want it so impatiently. We can't get it; but we want it atonce--_now_. The things one wants are always in the past or the future, so one cheats to get them _now_. "

He hadn't the remotest idea what she was trying to tell him. She wasstirred by some deep emotion--some overwhelming loneliness. For a momentit crossed his mind that she also was tempted--fascinated by somelurement of dishonor kindred to Adair's. He put the thought from him aspreposterous and disloyal. Yet it recurred. Ever since they had met shehad been talking curiously--talking about having given away bits ofherself to people who were hungry, little bits of herself in wrongdirections. She had coupled her own case with this unspeakable Maisie's. What was her problem?

She stood there with her head bowed, like a child self-accused ofwrong-doing, with all the flaunting joy of spring tapping against thewindow on which she had turned her back. Then it dawned on him why shewas standing; he was between the door of escape and herself. He steppedaside. As she moved eagerly forward, he caught her by the points of herelbows and arrested her going. The wild violet eyes fluttered up to hisfearfully and fell as he towered over her. 

"My very dearest!" He spoke gently in a voice from which all passion hadbeen purged. "Don't blame me if I simply can't understand. Though Inever become any more to you than I am now, I shall always be yourcomrade, believing in you and loving you. Remember that. "

When he released her she fled from him, leaving him alone in the shabbyroom. 

VII

When he found her, she was talking to the girl-soldier in the yard ofthe inn. "But do you think that you can manage it, Prentys? It'll beall right in the open country, but I'm not sure that I want to risk itin the London traffic. We're merely joy-riding and, if anything happenedto the car when you weren't on military duty----"

"I don't see that we've got much choice, miss, " the girl answered. "TheGeneral's orders to me were explicit, and you know what he is: obedienceand no explanations. We've barely time to do it. "

Their backs were towards the inn. Tabs strolled up and made a pretenseof inspecting the new tire. 

"Anything I can do?" he asked casually. 

It was Prentys who answered him. "I sprained my left wrist, sir, backthere along the road. " She held it out to him painfully as proof. It wasall bound up and puffy. "It isn't very much use, sir; so I've only onehand and I don't know whether I'll be able----"

Terry interrupted and took up the running. "I thought that the car wasours for the day. Prentys has just told me that General Braithwaiteordered her to pick him up at the War Office this afternoon atthree-thirty. Now that she's sprained her wrist, she'll have to drive socarefully that there's scarcely time to do it. "

Tabs couldn't help smiling at the pompous importance of little people inthis newly enfranchised world. It was only yesterday that for him alsothe foibles of Generals had been sacred. Generals had been gods whosetantrums and mental rheumatics had thrown whole armies into a fume andfret. For him that day was ended, but it still existed for this slimgirl-soldier. He was sorry for her. 

"You needn't be upset, " he said kindly. "I haven't renewed my license, but I can drive. No one's likely to interfere with me in an Army car. Jump in and I'll get you there with a quarter of an hour in hand. "

"But----"

It was Terry who had spoken. Her brows puckered with thoughtfulness, shewas gazing far away into the green distance. He waited for her toamplify her objection. When she maintained silence, he prompted her. "Ifit's me and my bag that's the trouble, you don't need to worry. AfterI've driven you both to the War Office, I can fudge round for a taxi. One can usually wangle one in the neighborhood of Whitehall. "

Before he had ended, he knew that his guess had missed fire. It wasn'this comfort that was disturbing her. 

"All right, " she said reluctantly. "I suppose there's no other way. Getinto the back, Prentys; I'll ride in front with Lord Taborley. "

He was glad to have something to occupy his attention--to be able totalk without the necessity of regarding her. They were both embarrassedby the memory of their recent tempest of emotion. "Braithwaite! Sothat's the name of the good fairy who gave us our day in the country. Idon't remember him; but that's not remarkable. Generals at the Frontwere as common as policemen in London; you found one at every streetcorner. As for trenchdwellers like myself, we never came in touch withthem except when we were in for a wigging. We came in touch with themall right then. "

She made no remark. He had the feeling that she was annoyed with herselffor having let the General's name escape her. Up to that point she hadreferred to him anonymously as "a friend at the War Office. " Tabs triedto switch to another subject without making the change offensivelyapparent. "Now that I'm a free man, I've got to reorganize a household. "

She kindled into interest, "Taborley House is still a hospital, isn'tit?"

"Yes, I handed it over to the Americans. I was glad to do that for mymother's sake. After all, I'm half American. At least a third of myboyhood was spent in the States. But they're sending most of theirwounded home now, so I shall soon have it back on my hands. But thatwasn't what I meant. It was too big for me; I never lived there. "

"Then what did you mean?"

He realized that she was encouraging him to continue talking because thetopic was safe--not because it held much attraction for her. 

"What I meant was that I'll have to try to collect up my old servants. Idon't know where they all are, or who's alive and who's dead. There'sone man I'm particularly anxious to discover. "

He slowed down, tooting his horn vigorously as they rounded an awkwardcorner. When they were again on the level she reminded him: "You weresaying that you were anxious to discover----"

"Oh, that man of mine! There isn't much to tell! He looked after mewhile I was up at the 'Varsity; when I left, I carried him off. I wasalways wandering, so I made him my body-servant. When we were leadingcivilized lives in cities he acted as my valet-butler-secretary. When wewere adventuring in the remoter parts of the world, he was mycompanion-friend. I had a real affection for the chap; he was sogenuinely distinguished and quick to learn. He'd have gone far if thingshad kept on. As it is, he's probably gone farther. "

"Gone farther?" She sounded half-asleep--politely lackadaisical. 

"Gone West, " he explained shortly. "His letters became fewer. We joinedup together in the ranks. You know all about my end of it. I suppose itwas my mother's democratic Americanism that made me do that. We gotdrafted into different regiments. After the fighting had been going fora year, he stopped corresponding. The funny thing was that none of myletters to him was returned. "

She was so bored that she was scarcely listening. He cut the mattershort by adding, "It was your mention of General Braithwaite thatstarted me gossiping. "

She pulled herself together with a jerk and instantly became allattention. "How? How could my mentioning General Braithwaite do that?"

He noticed again her unreasonable suspicion of hostility each time hemade a reference to this man. Thinking it the wiser policy to overlookit, he answered evenly, "Because his name also happened to beBraithwaite. "

Fully fifteen minutes elapsed. "She's quite fed up with my valet, " hetold himself. He hadn't been able to contrive any fresh topic which wassufficiently innocuous, so he'd been keeping silent. They were againpassing over the bridge beneath which, like a gleaming sword, lay theThames, barriered on either bank by the little bow-windowed houses, withtheir shining brasses and whitened steps. They were already catching upwith the throng of London traffic when she shook herself out of herself-absorption by saying, "There must be thousands of Braithwaites inthe world. "

He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes. Her latestconversational effort tickled his sense of humor--it was so whollyinadequate. He laughed outright. "That's better; the high spirits willsoon be coming back---- Thousands of Braithwaites! My dear Terry, theremust be hundreds of thousands. " Then in a graver voice, "But thoughthere were thousands of millions, it wouldn't restore to me my one loyalman. "

"You loved him?" She uttered her guess softly. 

"Yes, and I--it's a queer thing to say about one's valet--I admired himtremendously. "

It was the best part of five years since Tabs had driven a car. Hehadn't yet regained his old dexterity. He wasn't expert enough to attendto the wheel and at the same time to carry on a conversation. As he leftthe bridge he had to pass a coster's barrow which was drawn up besidethe curb. The coster was dressed in the soiled khaki of a man recentlyreleased from the Army; his barrow was piled high with narcissi anddaffodils, and a drowsy donkey drooped between the shafts. In avoiding asuicidal pedestrian, Tabs misjudged the room that he had to spare. Hefelt a jolt, guessed what had happened, and jammed on his brakes. Apoliceman in front of him was holding up a magisterial hand. Behind hima stream of familiar trench profanity was gathering in volume; underother circumstances he would have found a certain enjoyment in thesound. He looked back and saw what he expected: the barrow overturned;the flowers scattered, the donkey surprised out of its drowsiness, thrown on its back and kicking in its harness; the coster straddling thesudden ruin and calling down all the rigors of the law. A crowd wasrunning together; it hesitated between the coster and Tabs, uncertain asto which would provide the more exciting entertainment. When thepoliceman waving his note-book approached the car, it plunked for Tabs. 

The policeman was a stout, fat-fingered, immovable kind of person. Hesaid nothing till he had penciled down the car's official number. Tabsgave his name and address. "Lord Taborley, etc. " The policeman liftedhis slow eyes to judge for himself whether the Lord part of hisinformation looked probable. The lean aristocratic face which heencountered seemed to correspond with the specifications recorded. Heasked to see his Lordship's license. Tabs embarked on explanations, pointing to the bandaged wrist of Prentys as a confirmation of hisfacts. While he was explaining the coster joined them, having got hisdonkey on to its legs. He was violent with anger and burning to expoundthe justice of his cause. Suddenly he struck out a convincing line ofargument, "Look at 'im, the bloomin' slacker--the pasty h'aristocrat. 'Edidn't see no fightin'. Not 'im. But now the war's been won by poorblokes like meself, 'e ain't ashamed ter go banging abart in h'Armycars. "

"I know how you feel, " Tabs said. "But you're mistaken; I served in theranks two years myself. I was only demobbed yesterday; to-day's my firstday out of uniform. I'll pay you whatever you think fair; so you don'tneed to work yourself up. "

The man's attitude changed completely. He removed his cap and scratchedhis head. "Served in the ranks, did yer? Then you and me was pals outthere!" He turned to the policeman, "'E ain't done me as much damidge asif one of them there Big Berthas 'ad landed. "

The policeman let his fat eyes wander from the coster to Tabs, from Tabsback to the coster. "I wuz too old ter go, " he said inconsequently; "butme son's out there and won't ever come back. " He crossed out theparticulars he had written down so laboriously; when that was done, hefumbled his note-book back into his pocket. "If your mate 'ere says thatit's h'all right, sir, it's h'all right so far as I'm consarned. Yourfust day h'out of the h'Army! Well, well!" He looked at Terry with aworld of understanding, wheeled about slowly and went ponderously backto his corner. 

"That was sportsmanly of you. " It was Tabs speaking. "I'd like to knowhow much----"

The coster shook his head. "It don't cost you nothink. Me and you usedter share. "

Tabs protested. The man climbed the running-board and pushed hisgrime-stained hand into the car. "Call it quits, mister, and shake forluck. And now the little lady, if she don't h'object. "

Terry shook his hand daintily. So there wasn't going to be a fight afterall! Everything had been settled amicably! With an air of disappointmentthe crowd dispersed. 

"Came pretty well out of that!" Tabs remarked as the car startedforward. 

"You're not to talk. " Terry's voice was high-strung and emphatic. "Youcan't talk and drive--and you've got to drive like mad. "

"Why? What's the hurry?"

"The hurry! We've wasted twenty minutes; we've barely time to getthere. "

"Oh, the General! I'd forgotten. Well, it won't do the old boy any harmto wait. Lord, the hours he and his sort have kept me waiting onparade-grounds in France!"

Then he remembered that this General wasn't an old boy. If he wasn'told, there was all the less reason for making so much effort not to belate. Nevertheless, to please Terry---- He could feel her bodytwitching. Every time he had to slow down for traffic he was aware ofher impatience. Why was it of such vital importance to her that theyshould arrive in time? She wasn't too punctual by habit. A thoughtstruck him; it was like a searchlight pointing out many things that hadbeen dark. Her anxiety wasn't that they should arrive in time, butbefore time. She didn't intend, if she could prevent it, that he shouldmeet the owner of the car. Had it not been for the double accident ofPrentys spraining her wrist and having failed to mention that the carmust be back by three-thirty, he would never have been allowed to knowthat there was a General. Terry had been compelled to let him drive ifthe borrowed car was to be returned; but her main object now was toreach the War Office a few minutes early and to smuggle him off beforean introduction would be necessary. If they arrived punctually or late, the General might be already on the pavement---- Tabs bit his lip. Hehated petty intrigue. He demanded a man's code of honor from the womanhe adored and made no feeble excuses for feminine dishonesty. This wasthe worst disappointment she had given him. 

As they approached Hyde Park, when it was too late to turn off into aside-street, he saw that the road ahead was blocked. He worked the caras far forward as possible and then had to halt. Terry was nervouslyconsulting her watch. "The time?" he asked. 

"Three-twenty-three. "

"Then this puts the lid on it. " He beckoned to a policeman, "What'sholding us up?"

"The Queen's expected, so I'm told, sir, though us didn't 'ave no properwarning. "

At that moment the crowd out of sight commenced cheering. The cheeringspread and drew nearer. It was taken up by people who were strung acrossthe road immediately in front. A carriage flashed by in which two ladieswere sitting, one of whom was bowing from right to left. Despite herirritation at the delay, Terry stood up so that she could get a clearerview above the clustered heads. The cheering grew deafening, thenlessened, and sank to a hoarse murmur beneath the trees of the Park. Asshe reseated herself and the traffic lurched forward, she turned toTabs, "You noticed who it was?"

"The Queen. "

"Yes, but the lady who was with her?"

"I didn't see. "

"It was Diana--Lady Dawn with whom I nursed. She's supposed to be themost beautiful woman in England. "

"Don't know her. So I shouldn't have placed her if I had seen her. "

They made a clear run of it from Hyde Park Corner to Whitehall and drewup quite marvelously before the War Office on the second. 

"Done it, " said Tabs as he shut off the engine. "It's zero hourexactly. "

But Terry wasn't there to listen to him, as he discovered when hisattention was free and the engine had ceased to throb. Almost beforethey had halted, she had nipped out of the car and was hailing a taxiwhich was on the point of moving off. His bag was already in process ofbeing whisked from one vehicle to the other. This indecent haste to berid of him roused his obstinacy; he sat still where he was and watched. 

She returned a little breathless and self-congratulatory. "There! Wasn'tthat clever of me? Taxis are scarce. If I hadn't collared you that oneyou might have---- Come on, Tabs, if you're stiff in your lame leg, giveme your hand and I'll----"

At that moment the dingy swing-doors of the War Office flew open and ared-tabbed, handsome figure of a man, with gold braid on his cap andcrossed swords on his epaulettes, came briskly out on to the steps. Hecaught sight of Terry and, throwing her an airy salute, came with aneager stride towards her. He wasn't the old fogy Tabs had sopersistently imagined. He was young, barely thirty, lean, tall andswift-moving as an arrow--very much what Tabs had been before he hadspent himself at the war. 

"Hulloa, Terry! This is ripping. I didn't expect you---- But what's allthis? An accident! What have you been doing to Prentys?"

The voice was glad and frank, though its habit of command wasunmistakable. Every gesture bespoke authority and arrogance of body. Even in this moment of geniality, "Obedience and no explanations" waswritten all over him. He was a man who believed his acceptableimportance to be a verity established beyond the pale of challenge. Yetthere was something lacking--a sureness of refinement, a lastconsiderateness. With the first word he had spoken, Tabs had detectedthat he wasn't quite the part. 

Terry had hurried forward to meet him. She was saying something in avoice so subdued that it did not carry. She had so contrived theirgrouping--or was it an accident?--that the General's face was hidden. 

Tabs waited, then turned to Prentys, "My taxi-man's getting impatient. Will you give my thanks to the General for his kindness and make theexplanations?---- And I hope that your wrist will soon be better. "

He had given the driver his address and was stepping into the taxi, whenhe heard Terry's voice, "Why, you're running away! You mustn't gowithout meeting the General. General Braithwaite, I want to introduceyou to Lord Taborley, of whom I've spoken to you so often. "

Tabs limped back to the pavement and found the General regarding himintently. "I'm glad to make Lord Taborley's acquaintance, " he saidformally. And then to Terry, "You didn't tell me that it was for LordTaborley you were borrowing my car. "

Before Terry could reply, Tabs was answering for her, "Then I have toapologize to you, sir, as well as to thank you. But we've used the samecar often, haven't we? In fact, I'm certain that we've met many times. "

"Never to my knowledge. " The General drew himself up stiffly. "Youmistake me. It's the first time I've had the pleasure. "

The two tall men stood glooming at each other. Tabs had it on the tip ofhis tongue to say something more, but glanced at Terry and thoughtbetter of it. Instead he addressed her, "Do I drive you home?"

The General interrupted. "It'll be out of your way. I'm going right pastMiss Beddow's house. "

For the first time since they had been introduced Terry came betweentheir hostility. "How did you know where Lord Taborley lived and that itwould be out of his way? You said that this was the first time you hadmet him. "

Tabs refused to make her the witness of a quarrel. "Since GeneralBraithwaite knows where I live, perhaps he will call and explain that tome later. I can't keep my cab waiting longer--are you riding with me, Terry?"

She avoided his eyes. "With the General. " And then, "You won't forgetthat you're dining to-night with father?"

"To-night. At seven-thirty, I suppose, as usual?"

"At seven-thirty. "

He raised his hat. As he drove away he felt compelled to look back justonce to assure himself. He caught the General's features in fullsunlight; he had not been mistaken. 

"So that's why my letters to him weren't returned, and that's why hedidn't write! He's gone farther than far with a vengeance. " He clenchedhis fists and frowned savagely at his crippled leg. "I felt so sure ofher--and to have to compete with my own valet!"

CHAPTER THE SECOND

RETRIEVERS OF YOUTH

I

The taxi had scarcely drawn up before a small, prim house in BromptonSquare when the door was opened by a neat maid in immaculate cap andapron. She was so neat and respectful as to appear almost passionless. She had the high complexion of a Country girl, good gray eyes, a slim, attractive figure and dark, wavy hair which escaped rebelliously frombeneath her cap. One wondered how she looked in her off-duty moments, when she wasn't saying, "Yes, your Lordship" and "No, your Lordship. "Tabs mustered a smile and called to her, "Thank you, Ann. I'll be withyou in a moment. "

As he paid the fare, he let his eyes wander. The outside of the househad been painted white, evidently in honor of his home-coming. The workhad been only recently completed, for the chalked warning on thepavement was not yet obliterated, "Wet Paint Beware. " He had given noorders; it was Ann's doing--her accustomed, tactful thoughtfulness. Thesteps were speckless as a newly laundered shirt, the brasses polished tothe brilliancy of precious metal. His window-boxes---- He glanced alongthe fronts of his neighbors' houses; they hadn't put theirs out yet. Hiswere ahead of everybody's; they made a cheerful splash of red, withtheir soldierly upstanding tulips, above the long serried line ofarea-railings. Again Ann's doing! And the snow-white curtains behindeach row of panes were also Ann's. 

The driver clicked his "For Hire" sign into the upright position andchugged away to join the flow of traffic which thumped orchestrally pastthe end of the Square. Tabs climbed the three low steps separately; hehad been used to take them at a bound. He tried to climb them slowly asthough from choice, and not from necessity. He was very conscious thatAnn was watching. As she closed the door behind him he said, "So youknew I was coming? You received my telegram?"

"Yes, your Lordship. "

"I was sorry I couldn't tell you the exact hour. I didn't know itmyself. I hope you didn't trouble to prepare lunch. "

"It was no trouble, your Lordship. "

"Then you've managed to get some one in the kitchen? They tell me thatall the cooks have become bus-conductresses or lady-secretaries. "

"I did, your Lordship. My sister--the one who lost her husband at Mons. I thought you wouldn't object----"

He cut her short. "Ann, you know I never object; you never need to gointo details. Whatever you've done is right. From what I've seen alreadyyou've done splendidly. "

Under his praise she flushed and became a little less the servant. "Iwas afraid you might think I'd taken too much upon myself, what with theflower-boxes and having the house repainted. I wanted to have thingsnice for your Lordship after----" She hesitated for a word, and thenburst out, "After all the dirt and beastliness! Your Lordship oughtnever to have gone in the ranks, begging your pardon; you weren't fittedfor it. You ought to have gone as a General. Then you wouldn't have comehome with that poor leg and----" She saw him wince and changed thesubject. "But about doing things without orders, I knew that ifBraithwaite--if Braithwaite----" Her voice sagged and her eyes mistedover. At last Tabs saw how she looked in her off-duty moments, when shewasn't occupied with being respectful. The sudden memory came back ofintuitions he had had that she and his valet might one day marry. Fromtime to time he had twitted them on their fondness, taking an idlepleasure in forwarding the match. And Braithwaite had kissed her beforehe marched away. Ridiculous to remember it now! It signified nothing. People in their station kissed when they felt kindly, and on thatoccasion they had had an epoch-making pretext. 

Her eyes were searching his with a hungry wistfulness. "What I wasmeaning, your Lordship, was that if he had been spared, he'd have donethings on his own and gone ahead, the same as he always did. So I, seeing as how he wasn't----"

Tabs touched her shoulder gently. "It's all right, Ann. I appreciateyour motives. I'm glad you went ahead. But you haven't shaken handsyet. "

He glanced in at the dining-room before he went upstairs. The table wasspread for dinner. Cut flowers were standing about in vases. The verysilver had a festive shine. 

"Again I have to be sorry, " he told her. "I'm dining with Sir TobiasBeddow. "

"And Miss Terry, " she inquired, "is she well?"

When he went to climb the narrow stairs she refused to permit him tocarry his bag. He guessed the reason--that he might be freer to supporthimself by the rail of the banisters. On the first small landing, whichlooked out at the back on to the Oratory and the graveyard of the ParishChurch, there were still more flowers. When he reached his bedroom, three flights up, he found that his evening clothes had been all laidout and just as carefully as if Braithwaite--the old Braithwaite whom hehad loved--had been there before him. 

As she unpacked his bag, opening and closing drawers, "I shall have tolook round for another valet, " he said. 

"Please don't. " Her tone was sharp with earnestness. 

Tabs felt sorry for her. She, too, like all the world was wanting thething that she could never have. He wondered whether it wouldn't bekinder to tell her and let her know the worst. "But sha'n't I, Ann?"

With simple pathos, which was the more touching because it was sounconscious, she clasped her hands, "He might come back. He was neverreported. My letters were returned unopened. I've not given overhoping. I shouldn't like him to find that your Lordship---- If he foundanother man in his place, he might feel like he hadn't been wanted. Meand sister can manage----"

"But----"

He got no further, for her eyes were meeting his with an appeal that wasdesperate. "A strange man--his ways would be different. He'd make oneknow that everything--everything was ended. "

She glanced hurriedly round for a last time to make sure that there wasnothing she had omitted--collar, tie, silk socks, dress-shoes, shaving-water, razor. "I'll be listening for the bell in case there'sanything that I've forgotten, sir. "

With that she closed the door between himself and her emotion. As sherustled discreetly down the stairs, he thought he heard a sound ofsobbing. 

II

It was too early to dress--not five o'clock yet. He made an estimate ofthe time he had to spare. If he walked across the Park to Sir TobiasBeddow's, that would take him from a half to three-quarters of an hour. At the earliest he wouldn't have to leave the house till six-thirty. Sohe had the best part of two hours during which to think out his line ofconduct and to dress. At dinner he would meet Terry--how would she act?And what was the right thing for him to do as her family's trustedfriend? He felt very tired. It took a tremendous lot out of onepretending to other people that one wasn't tired. He was ashamed to haveto own to himself how quickly nowadays he could use up his physicalreserves. For the moment there was no one to watch him; he stretchedhimself out at full length on the couch. 

He was glad to be back in this friendly house with its narrow stairwaysand endearing littleness; it had been his American mother's before him. Within its walls were the exquisite traces of a temperament and tastethat had been hers. She hadn't always been a great lady; to the end ofher days there had remained with her the love of small things which onefinds in nun-like New England towns. There had been times when theostentation and entertaining at Taborley House had become too much forher; this nest of refuge had been her secret--her place of retreat whereshe had regarnered her sincerities. She had loved the Square'sold-fashioned primness, its tininess, its unchanging atmosphere of rest. It was scarcely invaded by the strum of London. In the cloud ofgreenness which drifted above its communal garden, one could stilllisten to the country sounds of birds. At the back gray religion spokein the tolling bell of the Parish Church; through Sabbath stillnessesone could catch the pealing of the organ in the Oratory and the mutterof worshipers at prayer. Tabs had kept the house as she had left it. Itwas something faithful to which to return, however much he failed in thesearch for his kingdom and however far he wandered. 

However much he failed! This first day of freedom had been anything butsuccessful. He felt as though every hope that he had had had beenblotted out; that morning he had had no plan for the future which hadnot included Terry. What would be the upshot? Would Braithwaite accepthis challenge to visit him? If he did, what then? He, Tabs, couldn'tvery well ask his ex-valet, merely because he was his ex-valet, todesist from loving the same girl. He had no doubt that Braithwaite, inhis new incarnation as a General, did dare to love her. He had littledoubt that Terry had shown herself at least susceptible to the glamor ofhis infatuation. How far had the matter gone between them? There lay theguess. 

He searched back, trying to piece together phrases which would indicatethe correct answer. There was her disturbing confession about havinggiven away bits of herself, little bits of herself in wrong directions. There was her reticence as to the ownership of the car and the way inwhich she had tried to prevent a meeting. There was her sympathy forMaisie's matrimonial excesses; her unnatural tolerance for Adair; herreiterated excuse for the current love-madness, that people had theright at any cost to be happy; and the eagerness with which she hadseized on his own words, "to recover our lost years by violence. " In thesilence of his brain he heard her voice pleading, urgent with pain andunderlying terror, "Don't you see why I don't condemn? I'm sorry foryou, for myself, for everybody. " His knowledge of the world told himthat impassioned latitudinarians were most frequently found among thosewho had themselves offended the conventions. Whatever Terry knew or didnot know, she was certainly aware that a match between herself andGeneral Braithwaite was completely off the map and would be regarded byevery one who counted as a _mésalliance_. 

And what did she know? Not that Braithwaite had been a valet--mostdecidedly not that he had been _his_ valet; at most she suspected thatthey had been acquainted when Braithwaite had moved in humbler circles. Had she been possessed of the exact truth, she would never have borroweda car from that quarter to meet her ex-lover on his home-coming. She hadbeen testing--trying to discover. She had scented a mystery--one for thesolving of which none of the General's explanations had provedconvincing. Then had come the unforeseen encounter outside the WarOffice and Braithwaite's falsehood, which even Terry had detected. "Youmistake me. It's the first time I've had the pleasure. " What was theman's game? Did he hope to erase his old identity? Did he think----

At this point Tabs' patience broke down. "Dash it all, " he muttered, "ifthere hadn't been a war, the fellow would have been running mybath-water at this moment. "

If there hadn't been a war! But there had; and this was only one of themany preposterous situations which had resulted from it. Terry was rightin at least one thing that she had said--the world was upside down andwalking on its head. 

As he lay there thinking, with the topmost branches of the trees in theSquare weaving a tracery of green shadows against his windows, a suddeninspiration came to him. He sat up. "By Jove, I've got it. Terry's proudas Lucifer. I can stop this nonsense at any time by telling her who herlover was. Braithwaite will have to call to see me; I can force him toit. When he calls, the door will be opened by Ann. I can hold the threatover him that, if he doesn't promise to break with Terry, I'll exposehim. "

He went across to his writing-table, selected a pen and wrote:--

 _General Braithwaite, The War Office, Whitehall, London. 

 Sir:

 I shall be pleased to see you any time to-morrow at my house in Brompton Square, which you know so well. The matter which we have to discuss is urgent. 

 Yours truly, Taborley. _

He addressed the envelope, sealed it and rang the bell. When Annappeared, he handed it to her. "Please see that it's postedimmediately. "

He had done something decisive. For the time being he felt happier. "Nothing like getting a thing off your chest!" He took a bath and, having slipped into his dressing-gown, commenced to shave. Between theseacts he whistled snatches of street-songs to prove to himself hisgenuine light-heartedness. It was while he was drying his razor that hestarted on the wrong air. Where had he heard it? Oh, yes, the sunlitstreet, the children dancing and a voice at his side murmuring the wordsof the refrain, "Après la Guerre, there'll be a good time everywhere. "

The old argument commenced again, but with a new justice. "What have Ireally got against this chap? To rise from a private to a General is nocrime; it's to his credit. We all had his chance and some of us had moreinfluence; yet he got there. "

He tried to eliminate his own desires and wounded pride from theproblem. For five years he had been nothing and had been glad to benothing, that the cause which he believed to be righteous might triumphby his self-effacement. What sickness of soul had overtaken him that, onthis, his first day of freedom, he had immediately surrendered to thisorgy of outrageous selfishness? It was Terry that mattered and onlyTerry. The stronghold of her happiness was threatened by Braithwaite'slie. There was a kingdom for everybody, his old theory. As for himself, if he had been mistaken and his kingdom was not Terry, then he mustpress on, for it lay further up the road round some newer turning. Meanwhile, at whatever cost to himself he must rescue Terry's happiness. 

His heroic state of mind lasted no longer than it takes to set down. Hewas demanding too much of his exhausted capacity for self-abnegation. Hewas starving for her. His old hunger to win her swept over himravenously. Only by winning her could his lost youth be regained. 

III

He had almost completed dressing when there came a tap at the door. Finishing what he was doing in front of the mirror, he answered, "Yes, what is it, Ann?"

"Before you go, I should like to speak with your Lordship. "

"Is it important? I've not got too much time. "

"It's--it's something to do with myself. "

"All right. Half a second. "

On opening the door, he saw at once that her face was disturbed. 

"What is it?"

"It's something to do with him, sir. "

"With whom?"

"With Braithwaite. "

It was evident that for Ann there was only one _him_ in the world. 

"Well, what of him?"

Ann commenced speaking slowly. Under the stress of her nervousness sheforgot the correct demeanor for a high-class parlor-maid and became acountry girl, twisting the corner of her white, starched apron in herhands. 

"I was noticing the address on that letter your Lordship gave me topost. " Tabs thought quickly, "Hullo, we're in for it. That was foolishof me. She's put two and two together. "

But Ann reassured him in her next sentence. "It was to a General at theWar Office and I was thinking that he might help. Braithwaite and I hadan understanding. I'm not saying we were engaged; we weren't. We didn'ttell anybody. But we'd made up our minds to get married if he ever cameback. If I'd been engaged to him, I'd have a right to make enquiries;but now, in most people's eyes, I was nothing to him. That's--that's thehardest part of it. You see, sir, he was never reported dead or missingor anything. I just stopped hearing from him. So I thought that if thisGeneral was your Lordship's friend----"

Tabs' brain had been working. He already had a plan. "You thought that Imight persuade him to use his influence to have the records searched?"

She glanced up hopefully. "That's what I was thinking. Would he do itfor your Lordship? I don't know how to set about things myself. It'sthis--this, " she almost broke down, "this uncertainty that's a-killingof me. Sister knows about her man, but I----"

Tabs saw the redness of sleeplessness in her eyes; it was true--theuncertainty was killing her. "Don't upset yourself by talking about it, "he said kindly. "I'll write to the General and post my request on my wayout. "

He had supposed he had dismissed her and had seated himself at his desk. A sound behind him warned him; he looked across his shoulder to find herstill hovering in the doorway. 

She answered his unspoken question as to why she was delaying. "Aren'tthere any particulars that your Lordship ought to have? Things like hisregimental number, and his birthday, and where he was born, and allthat? And wouldn't this help?"

"What's that?"

She pulled out from her apron-pocket an envelope. "It's one of hisletters. If the General was to see it, he'd know I had the right. "

"May I glance through it?"

Tabs unfolded the scribbled sheets of paper. They were torn from an Armynote-book. 

 _"My darling Ann:

 The jolly old war drags on and seems as though it were never going to end. Not that I've much to kick about, for it's proved a chance for me. Here's the great news. I'm in for my commission and shall soon be 'an officer and a gentleman. ' Don't tell his Lordship if you write to him or see him; he's still in the ranks and might not like it. It's funny to think that I shall be his military superior before many weeks are out and that, were he and I to meet, he'd have to salute me. If I come through the war, I sha'n't go back to being a valet. Once having been a gentleman----"_

Tabs ran rapidly through this sheet and turned to the next:--

 _"You're wonderfully good. I got the socks that you knitted and the two parcels of food from Harrods. You mustn't spend so much of your money on me. When it's all ended, I'll pay you back. We'll get married and have a little cottage in a little town, the way the song says that we heard together at the Comedy on my last leave. You remember how it goes. 

 'And we'll have a little mistress in a silken gown. A little doggie, a little cat, A little doorstep, with WELCOME on the mat. '

 "My dearest sweetheart, I love you. 

 "Yours, in the pink, etc. "_

Tabs looked up. "May I keep this for the present?--And, by the way, howmany more of them have you?"

"Nearly a hundred from the day he enlisted. That's one of the last--Inever heard from him whether he lived to get his commission. "

When she had vanished, he reread the letter more carefully, made a copyof it and slipped the copy into another envelope addressed to GeneralBraithwaite, together with a note from himself, which read, "_One of theimportant reasons why I am insistent that you shall call on me iscontained in the enclosed copy of one of your many letters, theoriginals of all of which are in my possession. To a man of honor itspeaks for itself_. "

IV

At the red pillar-box, at the foot of the Square, he posted this secondmissive. "He'll receive them both by the first delivery to-morrow, " hethought. "I wonder what he'll---- Rotten! But it can't be helped. " Thenhe turned to the right by the Tube Station, going up the narrow oldworld passage, behind the backs of houses, through the graveyard of theBrompton Parish Church to Ennismore Gardens and the sudden, railed insolitudes of Hyde Park. 

There were few pedestrians about. Until he reached the Park they werefor the most part men in evening-dress, going to dinner-parties, likehimself. Sometimes they were accompanied by their wives or sweethearts, whose little high-heeled shoes made a sharp tap-a-tap against thepavement. Lamps were lighted. The reluctant twilight was graduallyfading; the sunset still glowed faintly above clustered chimney-pots tothe west. "I'm going to meet Terry, " he told himself. "If the day hadworked out as I'd planned, I should be going to ask for her hand inmarriage---- When I planned that, I still believed that I was young. "

Then he thought forward. Sir Tobias, from the moment he entered, wouldbe scheming to get him to himself. Sir Tobias must be avoided. Directlydinner was ended, he would try to hurry him off and imprison him in hislibrary to discuss this Maisie woman and Adair. Still he was going tosee Terry; merely to see her was a compensation which stirred his blood. 

He crossed the Serpentine, stretching like a phantom lake, rose andslate-colored, through the Peter Pan haunted glades of KensingtonGardens. Then he emerged from the Victoria Gate and found himselfringing a bell and being admitted by a butler, who relieved him of hiscoat and hat with the velvet-plush manner of a fashionable surgeonfeeling a patient's pulse. 

"If you will come this way, Sir Tobias is waiting for your Lordship inthe library. "

It was happening precisely as he had foreseen; it was being taken forgranted that he had come as her father's friend, and therefore in someabsurd measure as his contemporary. 

As he prepared to follow, his attention was attracted by the scarletband and gold braid about an officer's cap which was lying carelessly onthe hall-table beside a pair of dog-skin gloves. 

V

Sir Tobias was standing astride the hearth-rug with his back towards thefire. As the door opened, he was caught in a last nervous adjustment ofhis tie. 

He was a little man, inclined to be podgy, brimful of a darting kind ofenergy and dignified with an air of fussy distinction which none of hisantics, however grotesque, could diminish. He was Shakespeare as hemight have appeared at sixty, after years and a return to Ann Hathawayhad quenched the taller flames of his poetic fire. The resemblance washaunting and remarkable: there underlay it a hint of gnome-like agility. One suspected that he affected age as a disguise. The pointed beard waswhite; the scanty hair had receded from the calm forehead; the eyes wereblue and faded, and red about the rims with over-much study. The toppart of the face above the cheek-bones was noble; but the lower partfell away to a mouth and chin which were amiable and undecided. At thehour of Tabs' arrival, he was flinging up his hands and splutteringimpotently, an inexpert swimmer in the waters of adversity. 

"My dear Lord Taborley! My dear fellow!" The moment he discovered hisguest in the doorway he came darting forward. "My dear boy, this is realfriendship. We missed you and wanted you so much. --So you're out of itat last? I mean the khaki. "

The little, wrinkled hand with its stubby fingers reached up timidly inan attempt to pat the big breadth of shoulders. 

"Yes, I'm out of it, Sir Tobias. "

Tabs didn't want to be patted. He was impatient of polite evasions. Heforesaw that he was expected to spend the next five minutes in replyingto questions which required no answers--all this as a conventionalpreface to a discussion of the delicate position of Adair and Maisie. But Tabs had his own problem, and one question in particular about a haton the hall-table that he was burning to ask. They stood staring at eachother, the big, fair man and the worn version of Shakespeare, bothwondering how long it would be decorous to chatter before they clinchedwith the vital topic. 

"May as well sit down. There's time for a cigarette. Terry----" SirTobias made a short-winded attempt to push a second arm-chair into placebeside the fire; Tabs achieved the desired end with one lurch of hisbody. "Terry brought some one in to tea; he's not gone yet. They neverknow when to go, these New Army fellows. Good at their job, they tellme, but no polish. I suppose I oughtn't to say that--ungrateful of me!But I'm sick of it all, the invasion of the classes, the women introusers, the beggars on horseback, the Jazz music. I want the old worldback--the womanly women, everybody labeled, and Beethoven. "

He pushed the cigarette-box fretfully across to Tabs, having firstselected one for himself. 

"Beethoven, " he snorted, "that's what I want, and no bobbed hair andeverybody happily married. "

"This New Army chap who's with Terry, " Tabs paused to make his voiceunanxious and ordinary, "does she see much of him? Is she fond of him?"

"Fond of him!" The little man jerked round quickly. He was in a mood tosee the shadow of terror in the most far-fetched suggestion. "If Ithought she was, I should pack her off to Lady Dawn and keep her withher until the fellow was dead or----"

"What's the matter with him?" Tabs flipped the ash off his cigaretteindifferently. 

"The matter with him!" Sir Tobias pulled at the point of his beard, making a mental effort to frame the charge. "If you'd asked me thatquestion five years ago I could have told you; but not now. In 1914 wespoke of a man as belonging to our class and meant that he had ourstandards of conduct, our code of honor, our sense of public duty, ourtraditions--that he could be trusted to run true to form. To-day anyman's a gentleman, provided he killed enough Germans. "

"But still you do feel that there's something the matter with him. "

"Yes, but I can't tell you for the life of me why I feel it. In manyways he's admirable: I believe he's about the youngest brigadier we havewho rose from the ranks. There was no hanky-panky about his promotioneither--no petticoat influence; it was all sheer merit and courage. Hewas a fighting-man from first to last and shared all the chances. Butthe trouble is that one doesn't know where he came from, and, therefore, one can't be sure where he's going. I know that sounds snobbish. Youhave the right to tell me that if a man was good enough to be butcheredto save an old chap like myself, he ought to be good enough to sit downwith me at the same table. But what people don't realize is that menhave been wounded in protecting old chaps like myself in coal-mines, andon railroads, and a thousand other places ever since the world started, but until now we never felt it necessary to offer them a bed in ourhouses. War asked for the simplest gifts from men, physical strength, uncomplaining endurance and courage. The war's ended, and if those samegifts are to continue to secure social advancement, every policeman whocaptures a burglar ought to be made a bank-president. When I demand thata man shall have traditions to be my friend, I ask no more than when Irefuse to buy a dog without a pedigree. "

"But this man, what's he called? If he's as distinguished as you say, Iought to have heard of him. "

Before his host could answer, the door was discreetly opened. "Dinner isbeing served, Sir Tobias. "

There was a rush of light footsteps and Terry breezed past the butler. "I know you're going to scold me, Daddy. It's all my fault that you werekept waiting. It took me so long to persuade General Braithwaite. By thetime he'd consented---- I had to dress like a hurricane. I'm not at allsure that I'm properly hooked up the back. I know I feel draughty. "Then, as though she had not remembered that he was expected, "Why, hullo, Tabs! In a dinner-jacket! You do look peaceful and jolly. "

VI

They had taken their places at the square handsome table, illuminated ateach corner by a silver candle-stick, red-shaded and electric-lighted. Tabs and Terry were seated side by side, so that he saw her always inprofile, except when she turned to him in conversation. He saw the softroundness of her shoulder, the satin pallor of her throat and breast, the quivering gold of her childishly wavy hair. 

The General sat isolated, opposite and facing them. Sir Tobias and hiswife sat at either end--had they known it, for all the world likejudges. 

Lady Beddow was a proud, unbending woman, gracious to her own sort, unquestioningly respectful to those above her, tender in a practical wayto those below her and coldly scrutinizing to any one who tapped at herdoor claiming to be an equal. Being bred to her finger-tips, she was asill-at-ease as her husband in the jostling democracy of the moment. 

In the hall Sir Tobias rather huffily had introduced his guests. Tabshad relieved the tension by smiling quietly at Braithwaite, "The Generaland I have met before. "

It was an uncomfortable dinner from the moment they sat down. SirTobias, although he had shown no signs of it in the library, seemed tohave developed a resentment at having been kept waiting. No referencewas made to this resentment, but Terry and the General were obviouslythe culprits. Sir Tobias was vaguely unhappy and had to blame somebody. Under the tacitly implied criticism Terry's rebellious spirits rosehigher, but the General's authoritative assurance began to crumble. 

Sir Tobias was continuing the conversation which had started in thelibrary. He seemed oblivious to the fact that it had then concerned theman who was now present. "You can't make the world afresh with acatastrophe. Men are like water: in a storm they rise above or sinkbelow themselves. When the disturbance is ended, they tend to find theirown level. War destroys; it never created anything. "

"That's not true, if you'll excuse me for contradicting you. You'respeaking without knowledge. " Braithwaite uttered himself bluntly as hewould have done in his own Headquarters' mess--this despite the factthat it was Tabs whom his host had been addressing. 

In his astonishment, Sir Tobias nearly gagged himself with the soup thathe was on the point of swallowing. He blinked mildly at this confidentyoung man, his breast ablaze with decorations, whom he had not invited. "Then, in your opinion, what has war ever created, " he asked withdangerous courtesy; "this war, for instance, that's just ended?"

"This war that's just ended is the only war of which I have had anyexperience. " Braithwaite glanced across at Terry for encouragement. "Iknow what it created in me and in thousands like me. It created in usthe most valuable of all assets--character. In the bitter test of painand dirt and despair we _found_ ourselves--found ourselves capable ofmore nobility than we had ever dreamt possible. We sorted out afresh, inhours that we thought would be our last, all our inherited superstitionsand servilities; in so doing we discovered that God and life itself aremuch kinder than we had been informed. Because of that discovery men whohad been timid learnt how to face death gladly, shirkers how to shoulderresponsibility, selfish people how to become decent through the finehumanity of sharing. Time-servers learnt how to get up off their belliesand confront misfortune with a laugh. I don't know whether I make myselfclear; perhaps one had to be a part of the great game to understand itslessons. That we do understand them is the reward of those who havesurvived. We've come back to you as uncomfortable fellows; we shall bemuch more uncomfortable before we're satisfied. We intend to fight forthe same equalities in peace that you sent us out to fight for in war. You asked me what this particular war has created; it has created acomplete new set of social and spiritual values. It's done away with theuncharity of caste. "

During his last words he had been gazing across the table at Tabs with afearless challenge, as much as to say, "That's who I am. Now expose me. "

But Tabs was remembering the coster's reason for not having dragged himinto the police-courts, "Served in the ranks, did yer? Then you and mewas pals out there!" Braithwaite, whether he knew it or not, had beendoing a piece of special pleading for himself. He and Braithwaite, whatever they might be now, had been pals out there. Silently Tabs hadbeen thinking while he had been listening, "You're right and I'm withyou. I'd be with you still more if you'd only live up to your standardsby sticking to Ann. "

It was Sir Tobias who took the offensive. The soup-plates had beenremoved and the fish-course had not yet been served. He had the leisureto talk. "You men who have been in the Army, " he said testily, "especially those of you who have gained your promotion rapidly, alwaysspeak as if the rest of us had been receivers of stolen goods until youput on uniforms. Armies are composed of youth; for most of you it wasthe first time you had tasted authority. It's gone to your heads; youwant to brush experience aside and dragoon the older world into newformations. You, who were civilians yourselves, have come back despisingus civilians; your contempt is three-parts fear lest you'll fail, as youfailed before, in the old civilian competitive struggle. You talk aboutthe virtues war has taught; let's grant them and grant themgratefully--they saved us from destruction. But what about the franticrecklessness it encouraged, the cheap views of bodily chastity, thedesperate insistence on momentary happiness?" At the mention of bodilychastity, Lady Beddow from the other end of the table had stuttered a"tut, tut!" Her husband dodged it, as a boy might dodge a wheelbarrowupset in his path. Without shifting his glance he ran on. "A completenew set of social and spiritual values! Rubbish! War places an excessivepremium on merely brutal qualities--muscle, bone, sinew, all theparaphernalia of physical endurance. What use has it got for old fellowsof intellectual attainments like myself? It takes the greatest poet, singer, painter, violinist; all it can do with him is to thrust a rifleinto his hands. All brains look alike, Michael Angelo's or arag-picker's, when they're spattered in the mud of a trench. Take LordTaborley here, for instance--all that military stupidity could do withhim was to keep him in the ranks for two years. You can't make mebelieve in your complete new set of social and spiritual values. Acomplete unrest and insubordination to time-honored moralities is thelegacy of war. "

Having delivered himself, he tucked his napkin tighter into hiswaistcoat and attacked the fish-course, as though by this display ofgastronomic energy he could somehow strengthen his argument. 

It was clear to Tabs that behind all that Sir Tobias had been saying layhis misery over Maisie and Adair. He saw the world always in thepersonal equation. 

"I agree with most of your statements, " the General blundered on. "Andyet you're wrong. You miss something. I think it's the vision of thestupendous heroism. You never saw it; you don't want to see it. That younever saw it we can understand; but that you shouldn't want to see it, makes us see red. It was something that we did for you, and you take itall for granted. You cheered us and jeered us into going because youwere frightened. You handed us white feathers if we hesitated. Youdragged us from our jobs and very often we were poor men, who had nosuch financial security as was yours. You promised that if we wouldshare our lives with you, you'd go fifty-fifty with us on your financialsecurity. There wasn't time to have deeds of agreement drawn up; we tookyou at your word. And what a lie it was! Why, I passed a blinded officerin Regent Street to-day peddling shoe-laces. The day before a joblesssoldier threw himself beneath a train and his last words were, 'Over thetop and the best of luck. ' There's a Colonel I see by to-night's paperwho's gone back to being a policeman. If you see a man in uniformto-day, your unspoken thought is, 'For God's sake take it off. ' I tellyou it's all wrong. It's that kind of ingratitude that leads torevolution. You talk about the brutality of war; it's not a patch on thebrutality of peace. You treated men's lives as yours while the dangerlasted, but you insist that your possessions are your own now that it'sbeen averted. "

He took a breath and glanced round. 

Tabs was nodding unconscious approval. Terry's face reflected the fireof his own passionate indignation and enthusiasm. The butler in theshadows had turned his back non-committally and was making a pretense offiddling with the next course. Lady Beddow sat very upright andstartled, grasping her knife and fork as though they helped to supporther. The only person who was still doing justice to the meal was theworn-out version of Shakespeare, who was responsible for the storm. 

The silence seemed to call for a final climax. The ex-valet cleared histhroat. And it was to his ex-valet that Tabs listened; he had forgottenthe General. It was as though the grimness of reality had interrupted apiece of play-acting. There was less heat in Braithwaite's voice now andmore reproach. "You said nothing about caste in those days, when youhurried us to the shambles. You promised us---- What was it that youpromised us?"

"A kingdom round the corner, " Tabs suggested. The next minute he feltTerry's warm little hand clinging to his own beneath the tablecloth. 

Braithwaite stared at Tabs to see whether he were jesting; then smiledin relieved friendship at this proof of comradeship from an unexpectedquarter. "Yes, perhaps it was that--a future kindliness, where we shouldall be men together, neither free nor bond. " Then again to his host, "You sent us out there where everything was censored. Scarcely a whisperof the truth reached you. The very war-correspondents were instructed todelete the horror and to write nothing that would disturb your calm. We've come back, what are left of us; we think you ought to know whatreally happened. It isn't that we take much pleasure in telling you, butwe think that if you knew, you might be persuaded to keep at least someof your promises. And what do you do? You reassert your privilege todespise us. You stuff your fingers in your ears and talk about caste, and forgetting the war, and getting back to work. Sir Tobias, I'm afraidI'm being far too personal, but you're a sample of millions who weren'tthere. You're living in a totally altered world of whose very existenceyou're content to be unaware. Your complacency drives men like myself tothe point of madness. We hold that you have no right to be complacentuntil the bill you put your hand to has been settled. I don't know howLord Taborley feels; he's not expressed----"

"Tabs feels exactly the way you do and so do I. " It was Terry speaking, like the shrill courage of a bugle answering the slow bass of atrumpet-call. "We're the world that purchased victory--we three, whilethe rest of the world sat back. It was men like you two who got gassed, and wrenched, and tortured, and girls like myself who patched you up andflirted with you so that we might send you back to the Frontcheery--girls like myself who hadn't known love, or children, oranything but a nursery sort of happiness. We three and people like usunderstand, because we paid the price together. "

"Really, Terry, I must confess there are times when you shock me. " AsLady Beddow rose from her seat, she was the picture of disapproval. Fromthe door, which the butler held open for her, she glanced back. "I thinkthis discussion has gone _very_ far. "

As she swept out, she called across her shoulder, as one might call to apet dog, "Come, Terry. "

VII

But Terry did not come; she sat on tightly, just as if she were a manamong men. Until coffee had been served and the room was free fromservants, there was a pretense at small-talk in which Sir Tobias did notjoin. He crouched moodily in his chair, an unlighted cigar between hisfingers, looking very old and somehow deserted. With the instinctivetenderness which she always showed when she knew that she had hurt, Terry got up and went to him. She linked her arms about his neck andstooped to kiss the bald-spot on his head. "Cheer up, Daddy dear; itisn't half as bad as it sounded. Don't you want me to light your cigarfor you?"

Tabs, to distract attention from the reconciliation, addressed theGeneral. It was odd that he should feel so much sympathy for a man whomhis letters, already beyond recall, would stir into panic in themorning. "Do you intend to stay in the Army, sir?"

"No. But why do you ask? They're getting rid of all of us who aren'tRegulars, no matter how brilliant our service. They're making the Armyagain a social club. I shall soon be out of uniform. "

"And then?" Tabs persisted. 

"Oh, then I shall find something else. " He spoke airily, but the shadowwhich crossed his handsome face added plainly as words, "If I can findanything. "

"If it isn't impertinence, " Tabs sank his voice, "may I ask what youintend to turn to?"

The General eyed him suspiciously, wondering whether he was again aboutto lay claim to the previous embarrassing acquaintance. "I have severalthings in view, " he said sketchily, "from which a man in my positionought to be able to choose. "

"Ought! But that hasn't been the story up-to-date. What of the Colonelyou were just telling us about?" Tabs saw that another storm wasbrewing. He leant across the table and hurried on. "If the worst comesto the worst, I expect your old job's waiting for you. The qualitieswhich have made you what you are to-day, must have been recognized andvalued----" Terry had completed her reconciliation with her father andwas resting her gaze upon them. Tabs altered his tone. "You put what yousaid at dinner rather strongly, sir. But I understand what you weredriving at--it was the democracy of the front-line where courage, whichat its best is unselfishness, was our only standard of aristocracy. "

Before the General could make reply, Sir Tobias had raised hisbewildered head. "It's a thing that I for one don't want to understand. I don't want to go on living, if what you've said is true. "

Tabs turned considerately to the older man. "I think you would if youknew. The difference that war made to all of us who were there was thatit taught us to judge men by their good points rather than theirdefects. It upset all our preconceived notions about society, especiallyour notions about the extreme value of race and breeding. What welearnt was that there's a breeding of the heart which enables a man fromthe gutter to run true to the highest form. "

Sir Tobias leveled his weary eyes in challenge. "Then what about Adair?"

The name was out at last--the name which he had been trying to getuttered all evening. It didn't matter that Adair hadn't been at the warand had no proper place in the argument. He had wanted to break throughhis reticence due to his sense of impending family disaster. At last hehad done it. 

"I think, Daddy, " Terry said, "the General and I had better leave youand Tabs to talk alone. "

The next thing that Tabs saw was Terry making her escape with this otherman. He had it in his power to settle his suspense for all time bysaying, "One minute, Terry. You're choosing between the General andmyself. It may help you in making your decision to know that Braithwaitewas once----" But the coster's definition of fair-play deterred him. This man had been his pal in the trenches; because of that he allowedhimself for the second time that day to be shut out from the company ofyouth. He hadn't discovered how much or how little she knew. By herwithdrawal he was made to feel middle-aged--more nearly her father'scontemporary than ever. Yet, as an underlying comfort to his distress, he had the remembered pressure of the little hand that had sought hisown in secret friendliness. 

He turned to Sir Tobias. "Yes, what about Adair? Terry said that youwanted to consult me. If there's anything that I can say or do----"

VIII

The door was reopening. Tabs glanced back across his shoulder throughthe shadows. She was hovering just inside the threshold, hastily clad inher evening-wrap; beyond her in the hall the General stood fidgetingwith his cap. Sir Tobias was sitting with his head bowed; he had notheard the sound of her reëntry. He spoke evidently believing that theytwo were alone. "I don't like that fellow. It's the last time he evercomes to my house. Whatever Terry can see in him---- And he's not goodfor Terry. "

She tiptoed back into the hall, pulling the door softly behind her. Amoment later the front door closed with a bang. 

"What was that?" Sir Tobias looked up gnome-like and startled. 

Tabs guessed what it was; but because, as she had said they three hadpaid the price together, he kept her secret. "General Braithwaite, probably. But you were speaking of Adair?"

Sir Tobias shivered, betraying his nervous tension. "A disturber, " hesaid irritably, "even in his going. And yet, I suppose it's true; weshouldn't be sitting here comfortably to-night if it hadn't been for hissort. "

Now that it had been broached, it was anything to avoid the main topic. He drummed with his fingers on the table, ceased drumming and sighedheavily. "Yes, I was speaking of Adair. I don't understand him. I'vegrown out of touch; I don't seem to understand anybody. I'm left behind, somehow. People do things to-day that they never used to do. They shoutabout things from the house-tops which all my life I've mentioned onlyin whispers. Terry does; you heard what she said to-night about neverhaving been loved and never having had children. The loss ofdelicacy----"

"I wouldn't call it a loss of delicacy. " Tabs struck a match. "I wouldcall it a loss of prudishness. We all know that girls are born to bemarried and that the best of them long to have children. Why shouldn'tthey own it? You owned it long ago when you bought her dolls. The lid isoff false reticences. I hope it stays off; we shall be a much honesterworld. "

"The lid's off! That's the phrase I was searching for. " Sir Tobias leantforward confidentially. "You haven't been much in England during thepast four years or you'd know how badly the lid is off. You men, whenyou were in the trenches, lived above yourselves; but, the moment youcame home on leave, you taught the world that wasn't in khaki how tolive below itself. I could tell you stories----"

"I know. " Tabs didn't want to hear those stories. "It was pathetic. Mentried to steal in a handful of hours all the passionate experiences thatwould have come to them beautifully and legitimately over forty years. It was like snatching from a bargain-counter things that you hadn't timeto pay for. You were young and you were so soon to be snuffed out. Theunthoughtful took desperately what they believed life owed them. They----"

It was the turn of Sir Tobias to interrupt. "But so did the women--thisMaisie woman, for instance. It was astounding--the women one would leasthave expected. All the desires we had caged through the centuries brokeloose--caged with traditions, with public opinion and scripturalpenalties. " He was delighted with his image and went on to elaborate it. "They broke loose like wild animals from a menagerie. We'd always knownthey existed. Sometimes we'd paid surreptitious visits to them inbooks, " the old eyes blinked cautiously, "the way one goes to the Zoo, to remind himself that there is a jungle somewhere. But we'd onlyregarded them as specimens; we'd never expected to meet them roamingabout the streets loose or coming as domestic pets into our houses. Nowthe war's ended and the jungle's all about us; we can't get the animalsback into their cages. Fellows like this General Braithwaite don't helpmatters by telling us that we oughtn't to want to get them back----"

"Perhaps he's one of the animals, " Tabs interpolated. "You couldn'texpect him to want to be put back. "

"Perhaps he is. In fact that's what I've felt about him. That's what'shelped me to make up my mind that he shall see no more of Terry. " Hereached out and tapped Tabs' hand, taking it for granted that he was hisally. "The sight's becoming far too normal--wild beasts everywhere, sunning themselves in impertinent freedom, as if they were house-cats. Nobody's shocked at it any longer. Terry isn't. Lloyd George isn't--atleast he pretends he isn't for fear the wild beasts may lose him anelection. No one makes a stand. It's left for private individuals likeourselves, to----"

"To do what?"

Sir Tobias lost his stride. He blinked reproachfully. "To get them backinto their cages. "

For an instant Tabs nearly smiled. "And Adair--is he the first wildbeast we tackle? Have we got to get him back into the cage of matrimony?Tell me about Adair. "

"It was no cage. " Sir Tobias spoke almost resentfully. "His home was akind of nest and Phyllis was the mother-bird. "

The butler had looked in several times to see whether he was free toclear away. For the first time Sir Tobias became aware of him potteringin the shadows. "Perhaps we'd better continue in my library. "

He pushed back his chair, dropped his napkin, groped after it feebly, then led the way solemnly across the hall. When he had seated himselfbefore the fire and fortified his courage with a fresh cigar, he plungedheadlong into the story of his son-in-law's delinquencies. 

IX

"How a man who has a daughter of mine for his wife can find attractionin any other woman is more than I can fathom. "

"I agree with you there, sir. " Tabs suddenly found himself carried offhis feet and on the point of a confession. "If any man were to playfalse by Terry, I think--I think I'd brain him. "

Sir Tobias half-closed his eyes and regarded his guest with sleepyapproval. "I somehow knew, " he said slowly, "that that was how youfelt. " Then he opened his eyes wide and darted forward in his chair, asthough to trace exactly the effect of his words. He was full of tricksand contradictions, obstinacies and tendernesses, this Punch-like oldgentleman with the head of Shakespeare. "I knew that was how you felt, "he continued, "because you've seen all the love that has gone to theirmaking. You were already a big fellow when they were still tiny. Wasn'tit Terry who first called you Tabs because her tongue couldn't get roundTaborley? Ah, I've been so proud of my girls! They were so little andwhite when they first came to us. They couldn't walk--not a step. Onehad to carry them everywhere. Then they began to crawl; they couldn'tstand up right unless one gave them his hand. And then at last theywalked. They walked by one's side at first and soon got tired. But asthey grew stronger, they walked away and away, always getting moreincomprehensible, till finally--it hasn't happened to Terry yet--tillfinally they met a man. Wait till you're a father, Lord Taborley; fromthe moment you give all that whiteness into another's keeping, you nevercease to be jealous of him. He can never appreciate what a gift you havemade him. He never saw her when she was little and helpless. She's youryouth--she's everything vigorous that you were. The first time heaffords you with a reason for hating him, you'll hate him like---- Theway you said: so that you could brain him without compunction. Adair----I could cheerfully kill him. "

Tabs felt rather than heard the pent-up passion in his voice; it alarmedhim with its sincerity. "But mayn't you be exaggerating?" he suggested. "Are you sure that Adair---- What I mean to say is, he may be onlyphilandering. Heaps of men do that--go through all the motions of makingfools of themselves and actually do nothing. He may be only expressingthe discontent of the moment, the revolt from suspense, the flatness ofquiet after terrible excitements. One didn't need to be a fighting-manto share those excitements. You say that Phyllis made a nest of herhome. Perhaps he didn't like nests. It may be that that's done it. Adaircan't have altered so radically over night; he wasn't forceful enough toerupt so disastrously. He was decent----"

"I know nothing definite. " The passion had died down. It was again anold and weary man who spoke. "I only know that she believes he'sabandoning her and that it makes her wretched. She wants him back; ifthere's any way of getting him back, she must have him. I never deniedanything to my girls. If money will persuade him, it's for you to findout how much. If this Lockwood woman has a price, let her state it. I'llspare nothing. Though everything else has lost its value, money stillhas the power to purchase. I can't buy back faithfulness and loyalty;but I should be able to buy the appearance of it. If I were you I wouldtackle this Lockwood woman first. "

He tossed the stub of his cigar towards the fire. It fell short in thegrate. He picked it up and rammed it deep into the burning coals. Helooked a poor, old, pitiful child, uttering embittered heresies. "Allwomen are mercenary; all of them except my wife and daughters. Ah, yes, and Lady Dawn. "

Tabs wondered what Lady Dawn had done to gain exemption from thissweeping accusation. "I'll see this Maisie Lockwood to-morrow, " he said, "if you can tell me where she lives. "

Sir Tobias had risen and was seating himself at his desk. "I'll copy youout her address. I have it somewhere buried among these papers. "

He had hidden it so thoroughly that it took a few minutes to find. As herustled sundry sheets and stooped over them round-shouldered, Tabs hadtime to reflect. Terry! Where was she? She was so little and unprotectedand white. Would a day ever come when a man would play her false? Atthis moment he had it in his power to prevent that day from everarriving. 

"Ah, here it is!" It was his host talking. Then the painful scratchingof the pen commenced. 

"Sir Tobias, I want to speak to you about Terry. " The scratching of thepen stopped, but the shoulders remained bowed. "This is an unfortunatenight for me to choose to talk to you about her, but---- To tell thetruth, I feel that if I don't speak to-night I may lose my chance. "

"What do you want to say about her?" The shoulders had unhunchedthemselves, but the head had not turned. 

"Only this, that I've loved her for a very long while and that if youdon't think I'm too old, I should like your permission to ask her tomarry me. "

Tabs thought to himself with a glow of satisfaction, "At last I've doneit. And done it in just the way and at just the time that I'd alwaysplanned. "

He felt the pride of a man who had worked on schedule and been punctualto the second. 

Sir Tobias turned. His face was composed. It was some seconds before hespoke. "Of course this is no surprise to me. You _are_ old for her. You'll be fifty-five when she's scarcely forty. " He paused and Tabs'heart sank. "You're older than her; but then you're wiser. She needs ahusband who'll be wise. " He sat leisurely as though he were resting froma long journey; then he stretched out his hand. Tabs went over and tookit. "My dear fellow, there's only one thing I ask: make her alwayshappy. "

The clock in the hall struck midnight. He lifted himself to his feet. "Ihad no idea how the time had flown. By the way, that's the address--theMaisie woman's. "

Tabs took it carelessly. It had become a thing of little consequence. Hefolded it away in his pocket. "And when shall I see Terry?" Of a suddenhe felt that he must see her; see her and make sure of her without lossof time. 

"To-morrow, I suppose. Say about eleven. "

Tabs thought back. He had expected to receive a call from GeneralBraithwaite about eleven, or at least to hear from him as soon as he hadopened his morning's letters. Then he smiled to himself; when once hewas engaged to Terry, what General Braithwaite did or did not do wouldbe no longer of any importance. 

"Yes, about eleven, if it'll be agreeable to Terry. "

"There's not much doubt about its being agreeable to her. "

They passed out into the hall. While Tabs found his hat and coat, theyspoke only in monosyllables. The servants had gone to bed. The house wasintensely silent. 

They had got as far as the front-door and Sir Tobias already had hishand upon the latch, when a taxi purred up to the pavement and came to ahalt immediately outside. "Some one stopping at the wrong house, " hehazarded and threw the door wide. "See you again to-morrow. "

"Yes, to-morrow. "

"At eleven, " Sir Tobias reminded. 

"On the dot of eleven, " Tabs confirmed. 

He passed into the cool night air, wistful with the fragrance of unseenflowers. His eyes were dazed for the moment by the sudden change oflight. He made out the blurred silhouette of the taxi and faltered, thinking he might have a chance to hire it; then he saw that its shadowyoccupants were climbing back into its deeper darkness. It seemed thatSir Tobias had been right; it had stopped at the wrong house. 

As he reached the corner where he turned, he glanced back. The taxi hadnot moved. Its occupants were again getting out--an officer and a girl. The girl was ringing the bell of the house that he had left, while, theofficer was settling with the driver. As he joined her, the door opened, letting fall a shaft of light. There was a brief parley--evidentlyhurried explanations. Even at that distance he could recognize theindignant tones of Sir Tobias' angry voice. Then he heard the "Shish, Daddy!" from Terry. They entered. The door closed behind them. The taximoved off in the opposite direction. Again there was silence--nothingbut the fragrance of unseen flowers and the wistfulness of the cool, spring night. 

CHAPTER THE THIRD

ALL SORTS OF KINGDOMS

I

Tabs had dressed himself with more than ordinary care. He was ratheramused at his self-consciousness in having done so, and a littledisdainful of it. Yet he knew that in the winning of a woman thestrategy of clothes has its value; he had no intention of losing a trickby negligence. It was nine o'clock when he sat down to breakfast; withintwo hours he would be seeing Terry. 

It was a gay morning, lacquered with sunshine; bustling breezes madeyoung leaves of trees in the little Square murmurous. Ever since he hadwakened he had been listening to the gossiping chirp of congregatedsparrows and the rolling boom of tumultuous traffic. At intervals acrossthe upland of roofs there had drifted to him the far-blown chime ofbells and the slower music of clocks striking. It was like an orchestrascraping its chairs and tuning up before crashing into the overture ofthe happier world. 

Lying beside his plate as he came down he saw a single letter. It wasaddressed to him in an unfamiliar feminine hand. He picked it up andexamined it carefully with the air of a connoisseur. So long as aletter remains unopened, especially when it is to a bachelor from anunknown woman, it retains an atmosphere of adventure. Up to a point heresented the intrusion. This morning his thoughts should have been soutterly Terry's. And yet he was piqued by it. 

He slit the envelope. The letter-head was embossed with a crest quiteunknown to any but the most modern heraldry. He read:--

 _Dear Lord Taborley:

 I have been given to understand that you are exceedingly anxious to make my acquaintance. If this is so, I shall be at home when you call to-morrow afternoon. Asking your lenience for this liberty, I remain, Yours very truly, Maisie P. Lockwood. _

"To-morrow afternoon! Written yesterday! That means the afternoon ofto-day. --And why the _P_--Maisie _P. _ Lockwood? Is that for Pollock, herfirst husband?--Unusual! A rather naïve person!" Then his face wentblank. "She must be a thought-reader! How the dickens did she guess thatI wanted to make her acquaintance? I scarcely knew it myself at the timethat she wrote this letter. "

Crushing the scented sheet in his hand, he tossed it into the emptygrate. "My dear lady, if you can read minds so accurately at a distance, be assured of this: to-day I shall be too busy with Terry to have anytime to spare on you. "

The door from the narrow hall partly opened. "May I come in?"

At sound of her voice, he sprang to his feet, upsetting his chair. Shemade bold to look in at him. "Why, Tabs, you _are_ a late breakfaster. Daddy told me you were planning to see me at eleven; to save you thetrouble, I hurried round. "

Like a flurry of March sunshine, Terry entered. 

II

He scarcely knew how to greet her. How does one greet a girl whosepermission he has yet to gain, whereas her father has already consented?Moreover, there was his last memory of her, at midnight dodging into thetaxi to avoid him. 

She spared him the trouble of deciding by holding out her hand. "I knowthat you saw me. That's what I've come to talk about. "

Her smile as she said it was both embarrassed and frank. She looked likean honest youngster who had come voluntarily to confess and, if need be, to be spanked. Tabs noticed that her lower lip was tremulous and thatshe was whipping up her courage. His mind went back to days when she hadreally been a child and he a man--when he had bound up cut fingers forher, had taken her on fishing expeditions, had taught her to cast herfirst fly and, as a reward, before the nursery lights went out, had beenallowed to see her snuggled safe in bed. Little Terry, she had been histiny sister in those days whom he had loved with no thought ofgain--just a small companion for whom he bought exciting presentswherever he voyaged across the world--a doll's house in China, a quirtin Mexico, a scarlet riding-saddle in Persia. It hurt him to see herafraid of him now--afraid of him because he was about to offer her thegreatest of all presents. Was she afraid because he was too old for her?

"You don't need to talk about it unless you like, " he said kindly. "Whatever you do or have done is right. "

"That's not true. " She wrung her hands. "Oh, Tabs, you make it so hardfor me when you're generous. I haven't done right. I'm in a tangle. Idon't know whether what I'll do in the future will be any better. "

They were still standing just as they had confronted each other when shehad entered. Tabs glanced round the room at the used breakfast-table, Maisie's crumpled petition lying in the grate, the flood of sunlight andthe tops of the heads of passers-by stealing across the pane above thestiff row of tulips. His eyes went back to the flower-face of this younggirl as she stood before him, fashionably attired and battling toconceal the storm of her distress. The setting struck him as inadequateand unprivate. The hats which stole by above the row of tulips seemed tobelong to spies. At any moment Ann might tap and request that she beallowed to clear the table. He believed that in the next half-hour hisdream of the last five years was to be shattered; otherwise, if it hadnot been to spare him, why should Terry have paid him so unconventionala visit, at such an unconventional hour, when by every law of usage sheshould have been waiting for him to call on her?

"How about upstairs?" he suggested. "In my study we shall be sure to beundisturbed. "

"No, Tabs, dear, " and the little added word touched him strangely, "I'vegot to say at once what has to be said. It's like waiting at thedentist's--it's the waiting that's so wearing. " Her face lit up with theghost of a smile. "When you've faced the real pain, it's over in asecond. "

She seated herself. Reluctantly he followed her example. But when shewas seated, she found herself at a loss for words. She drew off hergloves, and sat there folding and refolding them. He waited for her tocommence; the silence was unbroken, save for the laughter of childrenplaying in the Square and the occasional tapping of footsteps on thepavement. He leant across the table and took her hand. "Terry, after allthese years you're not afraid of me? You don't need to be. Remember whatyou've just said: it's the waiting that's so wearing; the real pain'sover in a second. Get the real pain over; then we'll plan for the best. "

She looked up gratefully with eyes that were almost clear of trouble. "You're gentle--so different from other men. I could almost love you; Ido love you. But not quite in the way---- You understand. I trust youmore than any one in the world. "

"Then why----?"

"Ah, why?" she echoed. "That's what I wish you could tell me. Why shouldI be able to offer more to--to some one else whom I trust less? So muchless?"

"But is that love, Terry? Isn't it infatuation? Could you keep onoffering? Loving means marrying and marrying means being togetherwithout respite. "

"I know, " she nodded wisely. "I know all that. I know it so well that Idon't want to marry him or anybody--at least, not yet. "

"Then why----?"

She took his other hand in hers, clinging to it as if she were drowning. "That's the second time you've asked me why. I'll tell you. Because if Idon't say 'Yes, ' I shall lose him. Even though I may not want himforever, I can't bear to lose him for now. You must know thefeeling--you who are in love. And that's why, " her voice choked with thetears that she kept back from her eyes, "that's why I promised him lastnight. "

"Last night!" Tabs spoke slowly, trying to bring the finality home tohimself. 

"Last night, " she repeated; "the night that should have been yours. Thenight I had promised to you for years. " Then, in a flame ofself-derision, "Why don't you let go my hands and hate me, now that youknow how treacherous I am?"

"You're not treacherous. " He smoothed the slim fingers as though he werecoaxing a child. "You mustn't be unjust to yourself. When we're in lovewe're all apt to be unjust; I was yesterday, to this man. Injustice, whether to oneself or to some one else, works most of our mischief; onenever knows where it ends. We can't control our hearts, Terry; you'vetried. You've tried to make your heart love me and it's refused. Don'tbe miserable because of it; you couldn't help that. And this man--he's afine fellow. I always knew he was a fine fellow, until seeing him withyou yesterday made me jealous and blinded my eyes. He's a finer fellowthan ever now. You couldn't love him if he weren't. "

She wasn't giving him the enthusiastic attention that his praisedeserved. Somewhere at the back of her mind there lay a doubt with whichshe wrestled while he strove to comfort her. He believed that he hadguessed her doubt. "As for not trusting him the way you trust me, " heexplained, "that's natural. We know the whole of each other's lives; ourfamilies are the same kind of families and we share the same kind offriends. Whereas----"

"Whereas, " she broke in, "I know nothing about his past, where he lived, who his people were or anything. I know nothing that he enjoyed orlaughed at before I saw him lying quietly in our hospital-ward inFrance. I've questioned him as much as I dared; but always he growsvague. There's something that he's hiding from me. I only gathered thathe had known you from the way he pricked up and listened whenever yourname was mentioned. That was why, without warning either of you, I----You see, I had to find out. And then, when he met you face to facehe--he lied. "

"Hush, Terry. "

"But he did. He lied. "

She had withdrawn her hands from his and sat back eyeing him with aclear look of challenge. Tabs was at a loss to explain her change ofattitude. Yesterday she had been all for defending this man. What didshe gain by accusing him now that she was engaged to him? In any caseshe had employed too ugly a word. And here was a strange state ofaffairs, that it should be left to him to defend his successful rival. 

"A man is not compelled to know another man unless he likes, " he saidcautiously. "They may have met some time in the past under unfortunatecircumstances--circumstances which are embarrassing to remember. The manto whom that memory is a disadvantage has a right to protect himself bysweeping it clean from his mind. "

"But not to lie about it to the girl he says he loves, " she declared. "There can be only one motive for such a denial: that it covers upsomething which is dishonorable. "

"But there never was anything dishonorable. That I swear. "

"Then he believes that I would think it dishonorable, " she insisted;"which means that he doesn't trust me. That's the reason I can't trusthim in return. If we don't trust each other now, how can we hope thatthings would be better if we married?"

Her logic was unanswerable, but she was arguing on the wrong side. Atwhat was she driving? He gave it up. Was she wanting him to tell herwhere and when he and her future husband had met? The eagerness of hersilence seemed to demand as much. But there are rules to every game. Nopressure that she could bring to bear could make him tell her that. Sherecognized those rules by refraining from putting her request intowords. 

It was he who broke the silence. His tones were puzzled. "You come to meon the morning that I had hoped to be engaged to you myself and youconfide all these secrets about this other man. You insist that neitherof you trusts the other and that you could find no happiness inmarriage. Then why, in heaven's name, Terry, did you pledge yourself tohim last night?"

"The fear of losing him----" Her face quivered pitifully. She was on theverge of weeping. "He overheard what Daddy said about forbidding him thehouse. It seemed our last time together. I couldn't bear that it shouldbe the last. It was to keep him near me for just a little longer thatI----"

Tabs rose and limped to the window. He dared not let himself go, the wayhis instincts urged. They might carry him too far. She looked so muchlike the little girl in short skirts he had known, as she sat therebravely trying not to cry. He wanted to take her on his knees, as in theold days. Now that she loved another man, he was not allowed to show hercomfort in that way any longer. That she should run to him for help andyet love some one else, wounded his pride. What was the matter with himthat he had failed to stir her passion? Why could he appeal only to herhelplessness?

Inside the communal garden, with its surrounding railings and lockedgates, nurses in uniforms were pushing prams. Toddlers were tossing aball across the lawn and tottering after it with excited shouts. Beneatha tree in the clear sunshine a young mother sat sewing. Other men'swomen! Other men's babies! He would have to set out in search of hiskingdom afresh; all his old quests had been mistaken. But he was oldernow and lame; he lacked the energy for a new journey. It seemed to himthat he would be alone and unwanted always. 

A telegraph-girl was mounting the steps. He heard the bell ring withoutinterest. Gazing out, with his back towards Terry, he put to her what heintended should be his final question. "You promised him lastnight--then why did you hurry round to me this morning?"

Her dress rustled and her breathing quickened. "Because----" shecommenced and failed. He did not turn his head. She tried again in alower voice, "Because I want you to get my promise back. "

He swung round and crossed to where she was still sitting. With hishands resting lightly on her shoulders, he stared down at her goldenhead. "But, Terry dear, why? Look at me. You must tell me. "

She did not look at him. "I'm frightened. Nobody knows as yet; so beforethey know---- Oh, Tabs, you're so clever; you can do anything. " And thenshe repeated whimperingly, like a child over a broken toy, "I want youto get my promise back. "

"Listen to me, Terry dearest, " he spoke coaxingly, "don't be a baby. What is it that you're asking me to do? Is it to see him for you and tobreak the news that you've altered your mind over night. You know he'llwant reasons. What shall I tell----?"

She lifted her head, stretching back her throat so that all her facelooked up at him. "If you'll still have me----" His hands on hershoulders tightened. "Say that you still want me, Tabs. " For answer hishead slowly nodded, but his eyes never left her eyes. "Tell him that I'mengaged to you, instead. "

In the tumult of surprised desire he bent over her, but he got nofurther, for a tap fell on the panel of the door and the handle turned. He drew himself upright quickly and stepped back aloofly. "What is it?"

"A telegram, your Lordship. " Ann entered. "I told the girl to wait incase there was an answer. "

He tore it open, glanced through it and handed it to Terry. To Ann hesaid, "There won't be any answer. "

Terry read, "_Shall be delighted to have you lunch with me to-day SavoyHotel one o'clock. Braithwaite. _" She examined the address and looked upstartled, "But it's to you. It's--it's as though he knew we weretogether. What made him send it?"

When Tabs answered there was no echo of her excitement in his voice. "Iwrote him yesterday asking him to call here. Evidently he preferred amore public place. "

She glanced at him shrewdly. "Why did you write him? You must have donethat between leaving me and coming to our house to dine. I know it's nogood my asking you. " Her last words were more of a question than anassertion. "I can see that it's no good my asking you. " "No, Terry, it'sno good. Braithwaite's past is his own secret. But I can pledge you myword that it bears no stain. "

"Then why shouldn't he----?" She changed her question. "Shall you meethim to-day at lunch?"

"Yes. "

"Shall you tell him what we've----?"

"Not all of it, Terry. "

"Why not all of it? Which part are you going to leave out?"

He came again to where she sat and stood gazing down on her. "Terry, whydo you want me to tell him? Why can't you tell him yourself? It would bekinder. "

"Because---- Oh, Tabs, you do want me, don't you? Because I daren'ttrust myself to see him. "

"And so you want me to tell him we're engaged because you daren't trustyourself to tell him! Isn't that it?"

She nodded. 

"And you daren't trust yourself to tell him because the moment you sawhim you would fall again under his spell?"

This time she didn't nod, but her eyes gave assent. 

"And what does that mean, little Terry? Whether you call it love orfascination, it means that even though you do not see him, your heart ishis at present. It means that against your will he's infinitely more toyou than I am. It means that you only ask me to become engaged to youin order that you may be strong to break his spell. It doesn't mean thatI will be anything more to you to-morrow than I was last night, when yougave him your pledge. "

She tried to speak, but he halted her words. "I'm older than you are. Have you thought of that? I'm not the man I was; I'm lame. You can likeme as a friend and believe me indispensable; but, if I were yourhusband, fifteen years from now when you're only the age I amto-day----Have you considered that? My dear, I love you so well, thatI'll never let you tie yourself to me, till you're as certain that youcan't risk meeting me without loving me as you're certain at this momentthat you daren't risk meeting this other man. When you can do that----"

The tenderness in his eyes hurt her. "Directly I can do that, I'll tellyou, Tabs. And--and I believe I could almost tell you now. "

"If you can now, " he said, "there's a test. Will you take my place atlunch and tell Braithwaite?"

She shrank, and tried to smile, and shook her head. 

"Then it'll be I who'll have to do it. " He tried to assume a cheerfulmanner. "But I can't give him your reason about being engaged to me. Ifit were true, which it isn't, it wouldn't be generous. If I carry anymessage, the only honorable thing for me to do is to inform him ofeverything. "

"Of everything?" she questioned. 

"Yes, of everything. I must tell him where the trouble lies and givehim his chance to be frank with you. Only when that is done, shall I befree to do my utmost to win you for myself. "

She took his hands and drew herself up to him. "Do what you like, Tabs. As long as I know that I've not lost you, " her voice became small andalmost happy, "I'm content. "

She was tiptoeing against him. The next thing he knew he was kissing herwarm red mouth. 

III

She was gone. He had watched her from the steps until she had reachedthe end of the Square where the swirl of passing traffic had engulfedher. At the last moment she had looked back and smiled. For some minutesafter she had vanished, he had stood there recalling the way in whichher brave little figure had tripped out of sight among the blusteringMarch sunshine and shadows. A child, he thought, impulsive and lackingin perspective, with a child's alacrity for drying its tears andbelieving in a future happiness. How would she regard this morning yearshence in the after-glow of experience? Would she find nothing in itscalamities but foolishness? And what relation would he himself bear toher when she had arrived at that stoical calm?

He reëntered the house. In the room where they had been together thefragrance of her presence still lingered. The chair was pushed back, just as she had risen from it to lift her warm, red lips to his. Howsmooth they were! Again like a child's! Everything about her was youngand undeveloped. She had kissed simply and gratefully, with none of theblundering, sweet surrender with which a woman clings to her lover. Ifshe had ever kissed Braithwaite, she had not kissed him like that. 

And then Tabs was overcome with a reluctant remorse, which was tingedwith a shameful sense of triumph. She had offered him her lips ingratitude; they had kindled in him the flames of passion. For the momenthe had devoured her with kisses--her eyes, lips, cheeks and hair. 

If he were to keep himself in hand, he must fill his days withinterests--_new_ interests. He must move among people and normalizehimself. He must fight against the melancholy of his obsession. His eyeschanced to rest on the crumpled sheet of scented note-paper tossed intothe empty grate. Stooping, he picked it up and smoothed it out. Thisproblem of Maisie would at least divert him--besides, he had promised todo what he could for Adair. He noted the Chelsea address and reread thecontents with its sly humility and hint of coquetry: "I have been givento understand that you are exceedingly anxious to make my acquaintance. If this is so, I shall be at home when you call to-morrow afternoon. "

She had been quite certain that he would call when she wrote thosewords. They had all the assurance of one who was fully persuaded of herown powers of charm and beauty. 

"Again, Maisie P. , " he apostrophized her, "I'm bound to acknowledge thatyou know more about me than I know about myself. I didn't know that Iwanted to make your acquaintance at the time when you were writing thisletter. I was quite sure that I wasn't going to call upon you when Iread it. In both cases you were the better informed, for I shall be withyou as soon as I've fulfilled my Savoy engagement. "

An hour later, as he was on his way out, he found Ann waiting for him atthe foot of the stairs. 

"I don't want to bother your Lordship. "

"You're not bothering me. What is it?"

"I've been thinking that if I wrote the particulars down myself----"

"The particulars! What particulars?"

"About Braithwaite, sir. There were things you wouldn't know or mightleave out. So I thought that if I stated my case myself, it might makethings more sensible-like to your Lordship's friend at the War Office. "

"It might. Are those the particulars you have in your hand?"

"Yes, sir. But they're kind of private. I shouldn't like them to be readby just anybody. That's why---- Perhaps, if your Lordship was seeingyour friend----"

"As it happens, " Tabs spoke with a careless air, "I shall be lunchingwith him to-day. I can deliver your letter direct. "

"Your Lordship is very kind. "

"Not in the least, Ann. And remember, whatever happens, that Braithwaitewas brave and he'd expect you to be brave. If you're not---- D'you knowwhat you'll do? Whether he's alive or dead, you'll let him down. "

Her head lifted proudly, despite the tears in her eyes. "No fear ofthat, sir. I'll never let my man down. "

"That's the way to talk. And don't worry too much. You know the sayingabout night always being blackest at the hour before the dawn? If we'donly all believe that and cheer up----"

He let himself out. As he walked down the Square he tried to strolljauntily; probably Ann was watching. 

"I could do worse than live up to that advice myself, " he thought. Then, "And so I will, by the Lord Harry. "

IV

As he passed through the doors into the Savoy, he consulted his watch;he was five minutes late. He halted in the middle of the foyer, gazinground. There was the usual collection of officers on leave or out ofhospital, British, Overseas, American, all of them out for a good timeand debonair. There were the usual rows of expectant girls, wonderingwhether their men had forgotten the appointment or whether the fault wastheirs in mistaking the place of rendezvous. Here and there through thecrowd worried and assertive literary individuals wandered, searching forinvariably unpunctual publishers. As though Time pressed behind themwith his scythe, hatchet-faced journalists from Fleet Street were makinga bee-line for the restaurant. In contrast to this perfervid haste, self-possessed young queens of the footlights lolled with theiradmirers, importantly believing they were recognized. All the medley ofLondon as it used to be, is and will be again, was there; but nowherecould Tabs descry a General's uniform. 

He went to the desk to enquire whether there was any message for him. Atmention of the General his enquiry was received with marked respect. Yes, General Braithwaite lived there. No message had been left, but hemight be in his room. While they were telephoning and he was waiting, Tabs remembered and smiled at remembering. Under quite othercircumstances, on a former occasion, he and Braithwaite had stayed theretogether. The clerk interrupted his reflections. "The General's not inhis room---- Ah, here he comes, your Lordship. "

Tabs turned quickly and looked in vain at first. He did not become awareof his host till he was standing almost at his elbow. Then he held outhis hand, "How are you, General? You must pardon me for not havingpicked you out at once. Like all of us, you look different in mufti. "

"More like the old Braithwaite your Lordship used to know?" The Generalsmiled. "Well, I have to thank that experience for this at least--that Iknow where to find the proper tailors. How about lunch? Are you ready?"

Against a window looking out on the Embankment, one of the best tableshad been reserved--a further proof of the new esteem in whichBraithwaite was held. The head-waiter hurried up immediately to advisewhat he should eat and passed on his orders to subordinates with as muchsolemnity as if they had been the details for an offensive. "Yes, myGeneral. " "No, my General. " When everything had been chosen and therewas nothing to do but wait for the first dish to be served, Braithwaiteleaned across to Tabs, "Your Lordship is amused. I don't blame you. "

Tabs drew out his case and offered him a cigarette. "I'll make a bargainwith you, sir. Let's cut out the unfriendly formalities. I'll call youBraithwaite if you'll call me Taborley. "

The General blew a puff of smoke into the air and watched it disappearbefore he answered. In civilian clothes he bore a more distinctresemblance to the man he had been; and yet the resemblance only servedto emphasize the change that had taken place in him. The old Braithwaitehad been a slight-built, gentle creature, loyal to the point ofself-effacement, soft-spoken and dependent on the appreciation of amaster for his happiness. The new Braithwaite both in body and characterhad hardened. His gray eyes had concentrated into command. Hisclean-shaven cheeks and small military mustache gave him an expressionwhich was tolerantly ironic. The moment you saw him, you knew beyondquestion that he was ruthlessly aware of what he wanted out of life. Hewas a sword which had lain hidden in its scabbard and was now withdrawn, glistening, intimidating and fiercely pointed. 

Tabs compared his forceful appearance with his own, where in a mirrortheir reflections sat facing each other. There was little to choosebetween them in outward gentility, despite the immense disparity oftheir chances. There was no fault to find; everything about Braithwaitebespoke confidence and refinement--his neatly brushed chestnut hair, hiswell-cut gray tweeds, his black, woven tie with the horse-shoe scarf-pinof diamonds, his fine white teeth, his trim mustache. He looked a man ofiron will and unswerving decision, destined from birth to take controlof crises and to shoulder responsibilities. As a last humanizing touch, there was a hint of cavalier devilment about him, of the gambler who wasalso a sportsman. 

The puff of smoke had faded. The General's eyes came back with a twinkleto his guest. "You're right. Between us this 'Your Lordship and General'business would grow tiresome. I never thought the day would come whenI'd call you Taborley, however. As for myself, plain Braithwaite's alittle reminiscent---- Still, we'll consider that part of our compactsettled. And now, what?"

"Do we need to hurry matters?" Tabs questioned. "This isn't a militarycourt of enquiry. It wasn't my idea to meet you as though we weremaintaining an armed neutrality. We----"

"But aren't we?" Braithwaite interposed with an air of amusedgood-humor. Then he lowered his voice, "When you parted from me I wasyour valet. You didn't hear from me for the best part of four years andbelieved me dead. You came back to find that I was your superior officerand had tangled things up for you pretty badly. You've threatened mewith your knowledge of a previous love-affair and you have it in yourpower to tangle up my future in return. Under the circumstances whatelse is possible but an armed neutrality?"

"Let me state the case from another and, I think, a juster angle. " Tabspaused to knock the ash from his cigarette. "Before the war you were myvalet whom I had always treated as my friend. I believe at that time, ifit had come to the show down, you were the man who was closest to myaffections and whom I trusted most in all the world. I'm trying to speaksoberly, Braithwaite, without any color of exaggeration. We'd been inmany tight corners together--perhaps the tightest was when they tried toexecute us in Mexico. Anyway, we'd always played the game by each other. In 1914 we both joined in the ranks; in 1918 you finished up as aGeneral, while I was a first lieutenant. There's only one way to accountfor that: up to 1914 you'd never had your chance; when your chance came, you proved yourself the better man. In a way, though it's difficult forme to confess it, I can understand and sympathize with Terry'spreference. Women admire bravery and merit. Ann and I admired them inyou; we knew they were there before the war made them public. "

He took a breath while he watched what effect the mention of Ann's namehad had. The General's expression from being interested and generous hadgrown suddenly obstinate and set. Tabs hurried on. "So I can understandTerry's preference. And yet, as you've owned, despite your advantages, Ihold the winning card. I can joker all your aces by telling--well, thethings to which you have referred. " He leant forward across the table. "I don't want to have to tell. To do that I should have to make myselfstill more inferior to you than you have proved me to be in the hardestof all tests. There's only one occasion that would compel----"

"And that?" the General enquired coldly. 

Before Tabs could answer, a Major in the Guards who was passing hadhalted. "Hullo, sir!" he exclaimed, addressing Braithwaite. "I wasintending to hunt you up. I've heard a rumor about your transferring tothe Regulars. Why don't you have a shot at my outfit?"

Braithwaite introduced Lord Taborley perfunctorily, then returned to hisfriend's question. "A shot at your outfit! It's too expensive. I've gotto make money. Besides, to become a Regular I'd have to sink my rank andlive on my pay at that. I can't afford it. To tell the truth, I'malready out of the Army. I handed over the keys of my desk at the WarOffice this morning. That phase is ended. "

"You did! Well, if you've got something better----" The Guardsman noddedassent to a signaled question from a companion at another table. "Don'tlose touch with your old set, sir, " he added cheerfully as he movedaway. "Send us the map-location of your next dug-out. "

The lunch arrived. Dishes were obsequiously offered for inspection andapproval. While the meal was being served, there was no opportunity forprivate conversation. Tabs was pondering one fact which he hadoverheard. "So, he, too, was demobbed yesterday! That's why he took hislast chance to become engaged. The glamour of a uniform---- And to-dayhe's back where he started. Poor chap!"

The over-zealous waiter had at last moved out of range. Braithwaitelifted up his dagger gaze. "And what is that occasion--the one occasionwhich would compel you to publish my past? Perhaps I can save you thetrouble of putting it into words. You mean if I dared to become engagedto Terry Beddow? I am engaged to her. I dared last night; so I mustleave you to do your worst. "

He smiled with quiet triumph; gradually his smile faded into puzzlement. "You don't seem surprised. "

"I'm not, " said Tabs. "Why should I be? I myself supposed, that I wasengaged to her last night. "

It was Braithwaite who showed amazement. "You! Last night!"

"Yes, I, last night. "

Braithwaite set down his knife and fork. The bleak look came into hiseyes that had given him the nickname at the Front of "Steely Jack. " Hewas silent for a full five seconds; then he said, "Lord Taborley, you'rea man of your word, but I find it difficult to believe that. "

Tabs' voice was both quiet and kindly when he replied, "You'll find itdifficult to believe a good many things before I've ended. EvidentlyTerry never told you that for over four years she and I had had anunderstanding that, when peace came, if I survived, we would be married. Last night, while you were proposing to her, I was asking her father'sconsent. While I was gaining his consent, you were being accepted. "

The blank look of astonishment which had overspread the General's face, quickly gave way to one of generous compassion. "On my word of honor, Lord Taborley, I never knew that. I thought--please forgive me--that youwere interfering merely out of snobbishness. I ought to have knownbetter. All my dealings with you should have---- I begin to understand. "

Tabs' old sense of friendship for the man--his man--was coming back. "You begin, " he said, "but you don't fully understand. You and I have tocome down to earth. Not unnaturally up till now you've chosen to treatme as an enemy. Perhaps I was when I sent you those two lettersyesterday. But I'm not now. I, too, am learning. There was a coster wholet me off arrest. Did I tell you about him? I forget. The reason hegave taught me a lot, 'You and me was pals out there. ' And you and Iwere pals out there, Braithwaite--not master and man or junior andsenior officer. It would be a burning shame if, now that the war'sended, we should fall to squabbling among ourselves. "

"And yet the fact remains, " said Braithwaite, "that I, who used to beyour servant, have cut you out of Terry. How are we going to remain palsin a case like that?"

Tabs flinched at the bluntness of the words, "cut you out of Terry. " Fora moment he felt inclined to say right out, "You're mistaken. She's sentme to get her promise back. " Instead he said, "How are we going toremain pals! That's what I'm here to talk about. I've made up my mindhow I'm going to act. It's about you that I'm concerned. I'm jealous foryou, Braithwaite. I'm proud of the fact that, whatever you are to-day, you were once my man--my man in the old clan sense. I want to see youcarry yourself as bravely in your new fight as you did in the one that'sended. I think of the two this peace fight will be the more difficulttest, especially for men like yourself. I lost caste during the war, while for you it proved a social opportunity. Now that we're back atpeace, the process is likely to be reversed. The qualities which gaveyou high rank in a world at war won't fetch the same market value. You'll have to fight afresh--only this time it'll be against thetemptation to sink below your own high standards through bitterness. Ina General's uniform you could go anywhere. It was your passport. No onemade enquiries. Once you're demobilized, the world asks for othercredentials--credentials as to your profession, bank-account, friends, birth. What I'm trying to say is this: there's nothing dishonorable inyour past save your own assumption that it was dishonorable. And I wantto assure you that it isn't my purpose to drag you down. I couldn't. There's only one man who can do that--yourself. But _you_ can dragyourself below anything that you were if you go on refusing to playfair. "

Braithwaite's face went white beneath its tan. He fell to stroking hismustache. "You take a lot upon yourself. It's the first time that I'veever been accused of not playing fair. "

"But _I_ accuse you of it. " Tabs spoke with an equal quietness. To anyone watching they would have appeared to be two handsome men of thesoldier type engaged in desultory conversation. "I have to accuse you ofit. I want you to glance through this before you answer me. "

He drew from his pocket and passed across the letter which Ann had givenhim that morning--the letter which, to quote her words, "Might makethings seem more sensible-like to your Lordship's friend at the WarOffice. " It was unaddressed, but as Braithwaite's eye fell on thesprawling handwriting of the contents, the deep flush which crept acrosshis face betrayed the fact that it was recognized. He commenced to readthe sheet with a studied carelessness; as he proceeded, the carelessnessgave way to a troubled frown. For some time after he had finished, hesat motionless. When he looked up, his mood was contemptuous. "So thisis your price?"

"No price was mentioned. "

"But it was implied. You tell me that, at the time that I was beingaccepted, you yourself were hoping to be engaged to Miss Beddow; thenyou hand me this letter. What do you suppose I infer? What would any maninfer? That your promise to keep my existence a secret from Ann isconditional on the breaking of my engagement with Miss Beddow. "

"Handing you Ann's letter wouldn't do that. Your engagement with MissBeddow is already broken. "

Braithwaite jerked his chair back and stared. Then the audacity of suchan assertion touched his sense of humor. He fell to laughing. "That atleast is an invention. "

Tabs showed no resentment. There was something disturbingly convincingabout his self-possession. "Didn't I tell you, " he asked patiently, "that you'd find it difficult to believe a good many things before I hadended? I had an appointment to see Miss Beddow at her father's housethis morning at eleven. Before I'd finished breakfast she was visitingme instead. She had called to make two requests: that I would see youto-day and get her promise back, and that I'd become engaged to hermyself. "

Braithwaite lurched forward, folding his arms on the table. His voicewas thick with passion when he spoke. "What you tell me sounds mad; butyou'd gain nothing by telling it if it were not true. "

"Nothing, " Tabs confirmed. 

"No, nothing. If it weren't true, I could go to the telephone anddisprove your falsehood inside of ten minutes. "

"You could. "

"Then it is true--which means that you've ousted me. And that's why youcan afford to be so calm and Christ-like. I've been wondering how you'dcontrived this Galilean display of charity. "

"You've not heard me out. " Tabs still spoke with friendliness. "While wewere together your telegram arrived and I agreed to be the bearer of hermessage. But as for her second request, that I should become engaged toher, I refused that point-blank. "

"You what?" The anger cleared from Braithwaite's face, leaving thechalky mask of a tragic harlequin. When he spoke again it was humbly. "You can't blame me for not believing you. You jump about. You sayseveral things which seem to point to a definite conclusion and then atthe last moment you change it. I don't know whether you do it to amuseyourself at my expense or whether it's merely the way your mind works. At any rate, it's cruel--this cat and mouse game. I wish you'd bedirect. "

"That's what I wish to be. You could help me if you'd ask questions. "

Braithwaite sighed, wearied beyond endurance. He was becoming less likethe General and more like the old dependent Braithwaite every second. "You wanted to marry her last night, only to find she'd promised herselfto me already. Then she comes to you this morning, offering herself, andyou refuse her. That doesn't make sense. Why did you refuse her?"

"Because if I'd taken her at her word, I shouldn't have been playingfair. "

At the recurrence of that phrase "playing fair, " a momentary annoyancecrept into Braithwaite's eyes. "I've always heard, " he commenced, "thatin love and war----"

"Everything's fair, " Tabs ended his quotation. "Well, in this case, itisn't. It was because she realized, after she'd promised herself to you, that in love everything isn't fair, that she asked me to get her promiseback. "

"You mean as regards yourself? She'd begun to feel that she wasn'ttreating you handsomely?"

"I don't mean as regards myself. You were the cause of her change ofmind. "

"I!" Braithwaite's bewilderment made him hostile. "How could I havecaused her to change her mind? I parted with her after midnight; it musthave been shortly after nine that she was seeing you. I held nocommunication with her in any shape or form during the eight or ninehours that elapsed. "

"Nevertheless, you were the cause. She realized in the meanwhile that inlove everything isn't fair. It isn't fair to ignore a young girl'shappiness in order to win her hand. You had done that; though she has noproofs, instinctively she feels it. "

Braithwaite shook his head and thrust himself back with the gesture of aman whose patience is completely at an end. "I haven't the vaguest ideawhat you're hinting at. "

"Then I'll be brutally explicit. You've at no time told her who you wereor where you came from before you made a name for yourself. You'veevaded all her questions. You told a palpable falsehood in her presencewhen you insisted that you had never known me. You're perfectly awarethat, if you approached her father, all the facts about your past, whichyou're suppressing, would most certainly come out. Your courting hasbeen clandestine, behind the back of her family. It seems perfectlyobvious that you're trying to lure her into a runaway match. She hasgrounds for believing that you do not trust her and, because of that, although you fascinate her, she finds it impossible to trust you inreturn. She trusts you so little that she did not dare to risk facingyou and sent me in her stead. She's so sure that a marriage with youwould be unfortunate that, in order to save herself from it, she'swilling to become engaged to me, whom she loves only as a friend. You'llwonder why I tell you all this. It's because I want her to be happy. Ifyou really are the man for her, she must have you. But you'll never havethe remotest chance of winning her unless you make a clean breast----"

"If I did my chances would be at an end. "

"If you believe that, " Tabs sought for the most lenient words, "you knowwhat you're doing. You'd despise to cheat at cards, but you don't mindcheating the woman whom you profess to love best. --And then there'sAnn. "

"I'd rather not discuss Ann. " The abrupt pain in Braithwaite's tonebetrayed the grumbling ache of an old wound. "I think even you willgrant that there are some things in a man's heart which are privatelysacred. Ann lies entirely outside the bounds of all justifiableinterference on your part. "

It took an effort for Tabs to bring himself to break down the barrier ofreticence which this depth of feeling had imposed. "I'm sorry, General, but I can't agree with you. " He waited for the expected protest. When itdid not come, he carried on reluctantly, "I have a high regard for Ann. She's one of my household and that makes me responsible for her to anextent. I can't allow her to be tortured any longer with suspense--she'shad more than three years of this horrid nightmare, hovering betweenhope and dread. Every day of the three years has been unnecessary. Whether you break or keep your promise to her is your concern. Whethershe takes action against you when she knows the truth, is hers. But shehas the right to know. To see that she knows comes within the bounds ofany decent man's justifiable interference. One of us must tell her; thenews would come with less grace from myself. But for you to wriggle outof your dilemma with silence, while she goes on breaking her heart, iscowardly--just as cowardly as if you'd deserted in the face of theenemy. I've no doubt you've sentenced more than one poor wretch to beshot at sunrise for doing that. "

Tabs pulled out his watch. He had said everything. So far as he wasconcerned the conversation was at an end. It was nearly three o'clock. Time had traveled quickly. He was surprised at the lateness of the hour. Now that his intentness was relaxed, he let his gaze wander. The roomwas nearly empty. Most of the gay little ladies who had chattered acrossthe tables to their recently recovered lovers or husbands, had trippedaway to continue their spree of celebration at a matinée or in an orgyof shopping. Those who were left were putting on their wraps or sippingthe last of their coffee under the reproachful eyes of waiters. Acrossthe window in a brown-gray streak flowed the wind-flecked highway of theThames. 

Braithwaite beckoned for his bill. After the humiliation of what hadbeen said it irked Tabs to have to see him pay it. The trend of theconversation had helped to strip him of the arrogance of his militaryhonors. The mercenary subserviency of the man who handed him hisaccount, seemed to arouse him to the landslide that had taken place inhis self-esteem. He made a conscious effort to pull himself together. While he waited for his change, he broke the silence. 

"I believe you meant well by coming here. It would be foolish for me topretend that I'm altogether grateful--grateful for your way ofexpressing most of the things that we've discussed together. At the sametime, Lord Taborley, I owe you an apology if at any point I've misjudgedyour intentions. As regards Ann, you err in justice when you hold meaccountable for all the causes of her tragedy. Both she and I, and MissBeddow for the matter of that, are the victims of circumstances. It'sscarcely my fault that I've outgrown Ann; I'm no more to blame for thatthan Terry is for having fallen in love with a man who was your servant. _I_ didn't make the war. _I_ didn't promote myself from a valet to aGeneral. _I_ didn't even consciously allure Terry. She fascinates me asmuch as I fascinate her: I fought against her fascination at first. --Butto get back to Ann, I let her slip out of my life because I wanted tospare her. I thought it would be easier for her to believe me dead thanto be told that she was--was discarded. I couldn't be expected toforesee that she would display this awkward loyalty of hoping. I didn'tknow what had happened to her. She's a good-looking girl; I'd picturedher as married to a man of her own class, until you flung thisbombshell at me. I'm not callous. Don't misapprehend me. I can stillthink of her with tenderness. But as for ever treating her again as myequal---- It would be as impossible for me to resume the old relationswith her as it would be for your Lordship to commence them. " He waitedfor some word of criticism or encouragement. When Tabs only noddednon-committally, he proceeded more slowly. "I don't know what I'm goingto do. I'm fully aware, now that the war is ended, that as a has-beenGeneral who rose from the ranks, I have no marketable value. I have nospecialized training to offer to a commercial world which calls forexperts. The only knowledge that I have to sell is the old knowledgethat you used to purchase. My house of cards has collapsed. To beunwisely frank, my financial resources are limited to little more thanmy war-gratuity. "

"And yet you're anxious to marry Terry, " Tabs suggested; "to marry herwithout letting her know about any of these handicaps of which she wouldhave to share the penalty. "

Braithwaite's head went up with a soldierly jerk. The bleak look cameinto his eyes. He was "Steely Jack" at that moment. "I have theconfidence to believe, " he said proudly, "that I shall go as far inpeace as I did in war. Never to own that you're beaten, never to squealwhen you're hurt, never to retreat from a position when once it has beencaptured must count back here for as much as it did out there. In FranceI had the reputation for never losing an inch of trench. I don't intendto lose an inch of trench now. My back is to the wall. For the presentI can't afford to do anything gratuitously charitable; by the smallestwaste of energy I may defeat myself. To hold any correspondence with Annat this moment might mean the slamming in my own face of every door ofopportunity. I'll do my stretcher-bearing when I've won; not a secondbefore. "

Against his will, while he listened, the unscrupulous valor of the manstirred Tabs to admiration. Only the after-event could prove whetherthis verbal display of fireworks was only bombast. "And so that's yourultimatum?" he asked with disquieting sanity. 

"Yes, if that's what you call it. "

The waiter had returned with the receipted bill. Braithwaite was pickingup the change. Not looking at Tabs he said, "A few minutes ago you wereconsulting your watch. I believe you have an engagement. "

"I have. But if we can arrive at any more definite conclusion by talkinglonger, I'll skip it. It's of no importance. "

Braithwaite glanced up. "Not to you, perhaps; but it may be to her. "

With that he commenced to lead the way out, choosing a winding paththrough the maze of tables. Not until they were traversing the greatgold and crimson lounge, with its ornate furnishings, did Tabs catch upwith him to ask his question. "How did you know about my engagement andwhether it was important or not?"

Braithwaite answered carelessly, "It's with Maisie, isn't it? I heardTerry suggest to her that she should make it. She's a nice little woman. I shouldn't like to be the cause of her disappointment. She was lookingforward----" The rest was lost as a flunkey requested the registerednumber of whatever Tabs had left in the cloak-room. 

While they waited for the hat and cane to be produced, Tabs made a lastattempt to persuade the General to commit himself to some promisedcourse of action. "No one would be more pleased to see you succeed thanmyself. I'm not trying to hamper you. Neither is Terry; but she insiststhat unless things are to terminate between you, she must know thetruth. Frankness with Terry necessitates frankness with Ann. You'llnever succeed, however great your courage, unless you start with yourhonor solvent. Ann's beneath you, you say--that's why you've outgrownher. It's not my business to dispute the fact. I didn't want tointroduce the class view of things; but, by the same showing, you'rebeneath Terry. She's young to-day: through a lifetime she might outgrow_you_. She's as much your social superior as you claim to be Ann's. You've discarded Ann on the ground of inequality of rank. In your caseTerry's family have a perfect right to raise the same objection. "

"Not at all. " The answer came like the crack of a whip. Braithwaite drewhimself up with the pride of one who had moved men like pawns across thechecker-board of life and death. "The two cases afford no parallel. Annand Terry have remained in the social stations to which they were born, while I--I stand outside all such ready-made, rule of thumbclassifications. By sheer impetus of personality I have lifted myselfout of the rut, so that not even you, with all your omniscience, dareprophesy how far I am going or where I shall end. "

It was plain that further talk would be useless. "I'm afraid I must begoing, " Tabs said. "I wish you very good luck. I hope we part friends. And of course you understand that I now consider myself entirely free todo my utmost to win Terry for myself. "

He extended his hand. Braithwaite made no motion to take it. He heldhimself erect as if prepared for an affront. His tones were icy when hespoke. "Before I shake hands with you, Lord Taborley, I have to knowwhat you mean by your utmost. With so many playing-cards out against me, I don't stand the ghost of a show unless---- Perhaps I have no right toexpect it; I never asked quarter from any man. I was going to say, unless you intend to be gallant----"

Tabs pocketed his hand and turned to limp into the sunlit thunder of theStrand. "The merciful receive mercy, General. Perhaps we shall shakehands some other day. How gallant I am depends entirely upon yourself. "

V

He emerged into the swollen thoroughfare, where the traffic roared andjostled like a torrent through a mountain gorge towards the broaderfreedom of Trafalgar Square. He turned westward, walking swiftly forthe first hundred yards, rather fearing that he might be followed. Thenhe slowed down; swift walking made his limp too painfully obvious. 

He was dissatisfied with both himself and Braithwaite. He felt as thoughhe had gone to meet some one in a wood and had heard only the mutteringof a voice and the rustle of retreating footsteps. "If I had only seenhis face, " he thought. 

In recalling Braithwaite, he found himself picturing two persons, ofboth of whom he had had separate and distinct glimpses: the one theloyal man, who in years gone by had served him faithfully and shared somany of his adventures; the other the arrogant, red-tabbed superior, whohad stolen his happiness without warning. It was impossible to resolvethe two into one. The first he still regarded with affection. Thesecond---- He had never allowed himself to hate any one. Hatred he heldto be back of breeding--a weak man's subterfuge for acknowledgingself-distrust. Because he had come so near to hating, he accused himselfof censoriousness. "If I had only seen his face--the real man beneaththe pretense--I might have understood and helped him, " he muttered. 

[Illustration: _Tabs extended his hand. Braithwaite made no motion totake it. _]

And now he was going to a fresh encounter where even more sympathy wouldbe required. It would be easy to condemn Maisie P. Lockwood. On asuperficial judgment she merited nothing else. Three husbands in fourand a half years, plus a risky flirtation with a married man were notthe credentials of an honorable character. If he followed the adviceof Sir Tobias Beddow, he would seek to assess her price at once. But hehad never been accustomed to regard women in that light--as a sex whosevirtue could be inflated or depressed by the increase or shrinkage of abalance at the bank. Actually he knew very little about women; riding asa knight-errant, with the wonder in his eyes of the mystery that mightsurprise him round the luck of any corner, he had never given himselfmuch time to learn. His ideas about women were Tennysonian. He liked tobelieve that they were free from temptations, more true in theiremotions, more generous in their affections, more unerring and unstainedthan men. He extended to them all the reverent tenderness with which heregarded his mothers memory. In this he saw nothing quixotic; to him themost hoydenish girl was a potential mother, whose body possessed asacredness quite apart from herself as a slim, adventurous ark whichwould bear the future of the race across the deluge of the ages. Heknew, as a matter of fact, that all women were invariably neither saintsnor angels; but he clung to his chivalrous superstition as a man prays, though he receives no answers to his prayers. To the recorded cynicismof experimenters in temptation he flung back the challenge of a saddercynic, "We're all in the gutter; but some of us are looking at thestars. "

So in this matter of Maisie, he argued, she couldn't be as shallow asher history would indicate. She was Terry's friend; that, in itself, wasa proof of goodness. Terry had been so anxious for him to meet andcomprehend her that she had gone behind his back to prompt theappointment. Well, he would make a better job of this second interviewthan he had of the one that was just ended. He must approach it, at anyrate, without prejudice. 

While thinking these thoughts he reached Charing Cross. Already he wasweary with so small an exertion. He halted, debating whether he shouldstruggle further. Then he became aware of wounded Tommies, chieflyOverseas troops, Canadians and Australians, who from their first landingin England had chosen this quarter of a mile as their happyhunting-ground. They stood propped up against the pavement; they satamong the pigeons on the parapets of Trafalgar Square. They werelaughing and chaffing, those one-legged, one-armed, derelict crusadersin their atrocious hospital uniforms. They were thousands of miles fromtheir one and only woman; but their drawn faces grinned cheerfully andtheir jaws were squared in the old, invincible, obstinate determinationnever to admit they were down-hearted. The sight of them filled him withstrength. Though he saw them only fugitively through gaps in the tide oftraffic, he felt their companionship. He would always feel it--the fine, shared courage of men out of sight, who had adventured for an ideal ashis companions. 

He crossed the top of Whitehall, passed beneath the Admiralty Arch andentered the garnished, graveled, tree-bordered spaciousness of the Mall. His old sense returned--the confidence which the Mall always gave tohim--of Empire and world-wideness. As he strolled along, he noticed aboard which informed the public that, by following a certain path, onewould arrive at the Passport Office. Hidden in the greenness, set downin the bed of an ornamental lake which had been drained when the terrorof air raids had threatened, he made out a low-built, sprawling shed. Itwas like a glimpse of romance. The path which led to its doorway was thefirst few hundred yards along the road that ran to Rio, Fiji and Tibet. One had but to enter and the journey was commenced. The sight remindedhim of something which he had forgotten; that, though every otherdelight failed, he still possessed the wideness of the world. He couldsail away. There were islands of the sea--Stevenson's Samoa, Conrad'sMalay Archipelago. If people proved disappointing, there were always thepainted solitudes which human disillusions had not withered and couldnot defile. It was a loophole worth remembering. 

Outside Buckingham Palace he made an unpremeditated surrender. A taxiwas prowling along by the curb as slowly as regulations allowed. Heraised his stick automatically as he caught the driver's eye. When thecab had halted, again he procrastinated with the handle of the door inhis hand. 

"Where to?" the driver enquired for the second time. 

"To Brompton Square, " he ordered uncertainly. 

The cab was already moving when he changed his mind. Standing up andleaning out of the window, "No. To Chelsea, " he shouted above thethrobbing of the engine. Then drawing out Maisie's crumpled letter, heread from it the address. 

CHAPTER THE FOURTH

THE COMPLICATIONS OF MAISIE

I

Tabs was not very familiar with Chelsea. He had seen it from the river ascore of times, red-walled, umbrageous and old-fashioned. But of thedistrict itself he knew next to nothing, save that up to the war it hadbeen the favorite roosting-place of short-haired women and long-hairedmen. He wondered whether Maisie's hair was short. He decided in thenegative. To have attracted three husbands in four and a half years shemust be outwardly conventional. An unconventional woman might persuadeone man to marry her, but not three in such rapid succession. Sheprobably belonged to the apparently harmless, sympathetic, sisterly, domestic type. And yet she must be something more than conventional;millions of merely conventional women lacked the prowess to anchor onlyone man in all the years of their life, whereas, judging by the Adairincident, Maisie had not yet completed her list of husbands. There wasan undefined danger in coming into contact with such a woman, which lentthis expedition to Chelsea an atmosphere of adventure. 

Did she know for what purpose he was visiting her? If she did, she was abold woman--a strategist. Her position was strengthened by his coming toher in the guise of an invited guest. Then he remembered that he hadmade a bargain with himself to meet her with a mind unclouded byprejudice. 

He had been traveling mean thoroughfares, when suddenly the cab swunginto an old-world street of dignified respectability and turned againabruptly into a tiny quadrangle of color-washed, stucco-fronted, timbered houses. In the center was a lawn, surrounded with white postsbetween which black painted chains hung in loops; the apparent intentionwas to create the illusion of a village-green. Tabs entered instantlyinto the spirit of the game--the littleness and childishness of theattempt at quaintness. He liked the bijou privacy of the Court, itsgreenness and tidiness, and the absurdity of the narrow windows whichglinted at him like spectacles. But there was something that he missed. 

The driver had climbed down and was opening the door. "Mulberry TreeCourt, mister. I forget which number you told me; but there ain't somuch of it that you're likely to lose yourself. "

"But where's the mulberry tree?" Tabs asked. There was in his voice thediscontent of a disappointed child. 

"There never was no mulberry tree, " the man replied in all seriousness. 

"Well, if there isn't a mulberry tree, " Tabs laughed, "I suppose we mustmake shift to do without it. "

The man frowned and justified himself grumblingly. "It ain't my bloomin'fault. I've done nothin' with yer bloomin' tree. "

"I suppose not, " said Tabs as if the matter were still in doubt. 

Feeling in his pocket he paid what was owing and watched the cab moveoff. Even at this last moment he was half-minded to retreat. Whatbusiness was it of his to interfere in another man's love-affair? Helooked stealthily round the Court to see if eyes were watching. All thewindows were empty; nothing stirred. The fact that he was not watchedreassured him. He glanced at the number on the nearest door, discoveredin which direction the numbers ran and decided that his must be thehouse conspicuous for its marigold-tinted curtains, standing retiringlyin the farthest corner. 

Once again he hesitated. Should he or should he not? The oldnursery-rhyme came wandering into his head with its innocent lilt ofjolliness:

 "Here we go round the mulberry-bush, The mulberry-bush, the mulberry-bush; Here we go round the mulberry-bush, So early in the morning. "

"And so we do, " he murmured. "Let's take a chance. "

II

The door--an apple-green door--was opened by a maid as trim as Ann. WasMrs. Lockwood in? She would enquire. "And your name, please, sir?--LordTaborley! Certainly. "

She left him waiting in the hall, while she went to make her fictionalenquiries. He was as sure that they were fictional as if he had glancedinto the room upstairs where Maisie was making a last anxious inspectionbefore her mirror. So the pretense was to be that he had called casuallyand had scarcely been expected. 

He tried to learn something of Maisie from the appearance of her hall. It was speckless. Everything in it shone with intense cleanliness andpolish. He had noticed the same gleam about the windows, brasses andvery doorstep before he had entered. He had noticed it again about themaid who had admitted him. It sent Maisie up very much in hisestimation. It almost explained to him how she had managed to get threehusbands. Men never know why they fall in love with a woman; more oftenthan not they mistake tidiness for beauty. "If you can't be beautiful, be clean, " Maisie's hall seemed to say; "if you can be both, you'reinvincible. " Maisie was invincible, as her conquests proved. This firstglimpse of her belongings showed that she loved cleanliness. By a jumpin his logic Tabs began to suspect that she must be beautiful. 

He had pursued his observations thus far, when he heard a doordiscreetly closed overhead and the starchy rustling of the maidreturning. 

"If your Lordship will step into the drawing-room, Madam will be down ina moment. "

He found himself in a long artistic room, feminine to a degree, exquisitely restful and yet broad-minded with signs of selection andtravel. It was furnished according to no particular period. There wasan Italian chest of drawers inlaid with ivory, a Dutch marquetrysecrétaire, some Louis XVIth chairs, a mirror of old Venetian glass, bronzes, snuff-boxes, specimens of china, odd bits of beaten silver, knick-knacks of all sorts, lying scattered about with apparentcarelessness. A fire was burning in the grate. Tea was set out on atable beside a companionable couch. Through French windows the smallestof gardens shone bravely, a-blow with bulb flowers planted in crevicesof a rockery, at the foot of which lay an oval pond and a silentfountain. As though to emphasize the game of littleness, a toy-boatfloated on the pond's surface. 

"Not the woman I had imagined, " was his unspoken thought; "not the wilyadventuress! But if she's not, then what----"

In an attempt to satisfy his curiosity, he commenced to inspect the roomin detail. The first thing he discovered was that all the silver frames, which stood about, contained photographs of the same man. It struck himas an odd exhibition of faithfulness on the part of a woman who had hadso many husbands. He counted the photographs; there were no less thanfive of them, recording the same face from varying angles. 

"Which of them, is he, " he asked himself, "Pollock, Gervis, or Lockwood?But he mayn't be any of them. Perhaps he's a possible fourth--thelatest. If so, here's hoping, for he shuts out Adair. "

He turned towards the couch, intending to sit down. As he turned, hisgaze encountered an oil-painting hanging above the mantelpiece. 

"By George! How did I manage to miss that?"

He stared at it with intense interest--almost with a sense of shock. Somewhere--he could not determine where--he had seen that face before. 

The picture was a half-length portrait of a woman. There was somethingextraordinarily queenly and at the same time patient in her attitude. Her hands, which were out of sight, seemed to be folded. She was seated, leaning forward; her head was turned towards the right, so that her faceappeared in profile. She was in extremely low evening-dress of anaquamarine shade, flowered with gold. Her shoulders were sickle-shapedand gleamed like the half-crescent of a young moon. From her throat, which was full and white, hung a splendid string of tan-colored pearls. But it was the slope of her jaw, the way her ears set back, and therounded strength of her head that gave to her that peculiarly alertbeauty. Her dark hair was drawn from off her forehead, making clear inher features an expression of calm challenge. She was a woman who hadlived and not always happily. Her calmness was the quiet of almostpainful self-control. And her age---- With her atmosphere of experience, it was certainly over thirty. She was not the woman to put back thehands of time for any man. 

"It can't be of Maisie, " he thought, and yet he hoped. "But it can't beof her, " he insisted. "This woman is remote and uncapturable. She's donewith passion. She's tasted life to the full and the taste was bitter. She has nothing left but her unquenchable pride, with which she torturesherself: her pride not to submit, not to cry out, to stand always atbay. That's all she has, unless----" And then, speaking aloud in hiseffort to remember, "I know her. I'm positive. And yet----"

The door behind him opened. "This is nice of you, Lord Taborley. --Ah, you were looking at Di! Most men do that when they visit me. I ought tobe jealous. But a word of warning; looking is as far as any of themget. "

Tabs found himself shaking hands with a woman who shared the features ofthe woman in the portrait, but who differed from her in that she wasfair, lacked her alluring remoteness and had much more of youth to hercredit. Whereas the woman in the portrait looked uncapturable, Maisie'scharm lay in her accessibility--the genial promise she held out of beingwilling and even eager to surrender. Her every tone and gestureproclaimed her anxiety to find this world a pleasant place--herdetermination to make it pleasant and to be gay under everycircumstance. 

She was as little, flawless and gleaming as her house. More than halfher good looks were due to the immaculate care which she bestowed on herbody--the whiteness of her teeth, the fineness of her well-kept hands, the brilliant clearness of her complexion, the wavy smoothness of herabundant flaxen hair which had been brushed and brushed until it shoneand glinted like raw gold in sunshine. She would have looked almost tooperfect to be genuine, had it not been for her vivid health. She was sodainty in her fragility that one longed and yet scarcely dared to touchher. 

The moment she had spoken Tabs had recognized that nothing that she haddone or might do could obscure her atmosphere of breeding. He had metmen like that, whose sense of race, even when they were at the lowestdepths, had kept them superior to their environment. A pale woman ofspun silk and gossamer, with cornflower eyes and lips like partedpoppy-petals! This woman could be kind to the point of folly--so kindthat her folly would appear almost virtue. She was a woman who, thoughshe might love too often, would love so much that to her much wouldalways be forgiven. 

"I must apologize, " Tabs spoke gently, "for having been found staring atyour picture. "

He did not know it, but men always spoke gently to Maisie. It was herair of trust and helplessness that did it, her tender trick of creatingin each man the belief that she relied peculiarly on him forprotection--all of which was totally at variance with the masterlyefficiency with which she ran both herself and her house. 

"I was staring at your picture, " Tabs continued, "because I thought Irecognized----"

"I daresay you did, " Maisie interrupted. "Though you may not have mether, her face is forever in the papers. Among the family she's known asthe Princess Czarina Bolsheviki----"

"She looks it. But is she a princess?"

Maisie laughed. "Not yet, but it won't be her fault if she isn't. It'llhave to be a prince next time. If she marries again, she'll stoop tonothing less. Look at the way she carries her head; she almost feels theweight of her coronet already. But she says she's had enough ofmarriage. We've all said that. Poor dear Di, she misses a lot of fun byher exclusiveness. If I only had half her wealth----"

She evidently wanted Tabs to ask her what she would do with it. Her eyesgrew round with spendthrift promises of jolliness, if ever such wealthshould come within reach of her tiny, managing hands. She looked asmischievously covetous as a magpie while she waited for him to put theobvious question. 

But Tabs wasn't interested in the obvious. He stuck to his enquiry. "What you've told me doesn't help me to recall her, " he said. "Who isshe? It's most annoying to recognize a face and not to be able to placeit against any background. "

Maisie pretended to pout. "You're like all the rest of them; you come tosee me and do nothing but talk of her. I'd have hidden her in the atticlong ago, only she's by Sargent. She's too beautiful for hiding, andthen no one can afford to hide her Sargent under a bushel in these hardtimes. "

"And still you've not told me, " Tabs reproached her. 

III

"Wouldn't we be more comfortable sitting down?" Maisie slid between thecouch and the tea-table, making herself comfortable against a pile ofcushions. When Tabs looked round for a seat, he discovered the strategyof the arrangement of the furniture. The nearest available chair toMaisie was at least four yards away; to have selected it would have beento have isolated himself. He would have had to have hailed herridiculously across the room's breadth. It was plainly intended that heshould challenge fate and share the couch, just as Pollock, Gervis, Lockwood, Adair and so many others had done before him. 

All this friendliness would make it a little difficult for him presentlywhen he broached the subject of Adair. He had an uneasy feeling that SirTobias wouldn't approve of this way of conducting his mission. It wasone thing to fly the white flag of truce while you parleyed with theenemy; it was quite another to share the same couch with her in a cozyroom, where there were only the two of you and the jumping flames of thefire in the grate made the silver on the small round table glow red. When they weren't talking there was no sound. None of the clamor ofLondon reached them. They might have been in a cave, far removed fromeverything that disturbed. And, indeed, the little piled-up rockeryoutside the windows, with the spring flowers blowing and the baby lake, with the toy-boat drifting on its quiet surface, rather created theillusion that this was a cave. 

A restful lethargy of kindness was creeping over him. He didn't want tobe at enmity with anybody, least of all with this dainty sprite of awoman with the cornflower eyes and the flaxen hair. He no longerwondered that three men in succession, weary of the mud of fighting, hadcome to her for rest. He could even comprehend Adair's treachery, if ithad gone so far as treachery. Adair had found his wife fretful--she hadalways been crying and hanging round his neck. Here he had foundcompanionship, secret laughter and forgetfulness. The world owed anywoman a large debt of liberty who could give men that. Maisie was thekind of woman who could bury twenty husbands and go out next morning tomeet the twenty-first. What was far more amazing, she could do itwithout frivolity or loss of self-respect. She lived a day at a time. She made you feel, the moment you met her, that that was the onlytolerable way of living. The excuse for her philosophy was its success. She was an expert in happiness--so expert that she could communicate hersecret without waste of words. Probably for most men words were notnecessary; for them their happiness was herself. 

From her end of the couch Maisie smiled at Tabs dreamily. "You'repersistent when you want anything. I suppose you always get yourdesires?"

"The little things, yes, " he replied. "But the big things--they evademe. "

"You mean Terry. "

She said it without change of tone or expression, with the same happysmile curling up the corners of her uncruel mouth. It was disconcertingto have his private humiliations referred to so frankly, as though theywere fitting subjects for casual conversation. But, after all, hereminded himself, his business there was to discuss her equally privateaffairs. He was hardly in a position to resent anything she might say. It was a duel, and she had drawn first blood. He was quick to see thather purpose in introducing Terry was to gain an advantage while shepostponed the inevitable discussion of Adair. 

She didn't give him a chance to reply. "I know all about you and Terry, "she continued, "and about Braithwaite, too, for the matter of that. Perhaps why Terry evades you is because she isn't one of your really bigthings. You may have mistaken her for a big thing. If she is one of yourtruly big things, you'll get her. You're one of the few men who get allthat they desire. "

It was possible that she was trying to flatter him; nevertheless, against his will, the certainty of her way of talking impressed him. "What makes you think that I get everything that I desire?"

She laughed and snuggled closer into the cushions. "I can't put it intowords. I just know by looking at you. You have the air. "

"Then what makes you say that Terry may not be one of my big things?"

She glanced up at him amused. "I almost made you angry when I saidthat. --Do you really want to know? I said it because I don't think thatshe is one of your big things and, what's more, you don't think that sheis either. Now I _have_ made you angry---- But you don't--not the saneyou, who was and is and will be to-morrow--the you who'll outlive thisdisappointment. "

He was at one and the same time intrigued and offended by the turn theconversation had taken. His memory groped back to the first conceptionhe had had of this woman--the woman who tricked married men, who usedscented note-paper, who interpreted thoughts before they were utteredand forestalled actions before they had been planned--the woman whom hehad been instructed to buy off with a price. What was he doingdiscussing his love-affair with such as her?

His voice was chilling when he spoke. "It's very good of you to takesuch an interest in me. I ought to be gratified that you should thinkyou know so much about me, and after so short an acquaintance--so verymuch more than I know about myself. "

"But I don't think; I do know far more at this moment than you knowabout yourself. " Her tones were calm and lazy, unembarrassed andpleasant. The red glow of the fire glinting on the silver tea-serviceseemed the reflection of her cheerfulness. 

"If you're so certain that you know, you might tell me, " he saidstiffly. 

"I know---- Do you mind if I smoke?" She leant forward while he held amatch to her cigarette. "I know that you're an intensely lonely man. Allmen have to be lonely till they're thirty if they're going to getanywhere. They have no time to spare. You've had no time to spare forwomen--that's why you don't understand them. Women were for you a treatin store, until the war broke. Then suddenly you discovered that you hadmissed the most precious thing in life. You hadn't the time to be wisein your choice, so you turned to some one young and accessible. Heryouth seemed to symbolize all that you coveted at the moment; itsymbolized going on forever. You weren't really in love with her as anindividual; you were in love with the thought of love and youth. Youwon't believe it, but almost any young girl who was beautiful andwilling would have served your purpose. During the terrible years you'veclothed her with your own idealism. You've told yourself that it was forher that you were fighting. You've created in your heart a person shenever was and hasn't it in her to become. You've thought of her as asecond you, with _your_ sense of honor, _your_ passion forunselfishness, _your_ patience and experience gained through suffering. The ideal you've set up for her is contradictory and impossible. Youthisn't considerate, experienced, unselfish, patient. For those qualitiesyou have to go to the middle years. I know what I'm talking about, forI've had three soldier husbands. " She said it without self-reproach orself-glory--as though it were the sort of thing that might happen to anywoman. "You've been finding out the kind of girl she really is sinceyour return--the kind of girl who prefers General Braithwaite toyourself and can't discriminate between the temporary and the permanent. You're disappointed in her. You've discovered already that she isn't thewoman you thought you were loving. You're now only pretending that youstill care for her because life would be too empty without your dreamand because the right woman, for whom you've already renewed yoursearch, hasn't yet turned up. Somewhere inside you at this moment yoursane self is endorsing every word that I'm saying as true. "

"That's not so. " His contradiction was spoken fiercely. 

"But it is so, " the sweet voice persisted. "You yourself have tacitlyowned it. "

"How?"

There was the sharpness of alarm in his way of asking. Her assurance hadstartled him out of his brief anger. 

She laughed softly. "I think we might have tea; it'll restore ourserenity. There's nothing like employing your hands when you want tokeep from losing your temper. A woman learns that, even when she's onlybeen married once. When she's been married three times, " the cornflowereyes became suddenly innocent, "she knows everything. --Will you touchthe bell? It'll save me getting up. --How, you ask. How do I know thatyou've already renewed your searching? To a man who's as head over heelsin love as you profess to be all women, except the one woman, howeverbeautiful, ought to be hanks of hair and bags of bones. I read yourthoughts when I caught you gazing at my sister's portrait. You weresaying to yourself, 'What if she's the woman!' And you're evensufficiently detached in your affections to acknowledge attraction in ahorrid little pestering, too-much-married person like myself. "

IV

It was lucky that the maid selected that moment for answering the bell. Things were getting uncomfortably personal. Tabs had the idea thatMaisie had been talking against time till she should hear the footstepsof her reënforcements. As the maid entered, she turned towards her withthe brightness of relief. 

"That's splendid of you, Porter. You guessed what we wanted. --Porteralways guesses what I want, Lord Taborley; she's my second self. AndPorter can tell your fortune from the cards--can't you, Porter? Only shenever reads the cards on a Sunday; she says it brings bad luck. If youcome here often, you must try her. --You might take that dish fromher. --Thanks awfully. There's room for it here on this corner of thetray. "

Tabs smiled inwardly while he did his awkward best to make himselfuseful. He might know very little about women, but he knew intuitivelyquite a lot about this particular woman. He knew that Porter had guessednothing, because nothing had been left to chance. He knew it as surelyas he had known what Maisie had been doing in front of her mirror whilehe had been kept waiting. He knew that long before his arrival everydetail of his reception had been prepared and planned, and that Porterhad been instructed. The whole morning had been spent in dusting, sweeping, polishing and making ready the various dishes of dainty cakesand neatly-cut sandwiches which were being spread before him. He wascertain that the kindly patronage of Maisie's way of addressing Porterwas another part of the conspiracy. 

Curiously enough it was Porter who made him like and trust her more thanhe had done as yet. Porter's eyes, when they rested on her mistress, embraced her with a slavish worship; when they rested on him, theywarned and dared him. He had the feeling that the man who made Maisiecry was likely to feel a knife in his back. Maisie must be good to beable to call forth such fanatical loyalty from a humble woman. He beganto be infected by this atmosphere of idolatry. And yet----

What was Maisie's object in belittling his love for Terry? What did shehope to gain by it? He hardly dared allow himself to suspect; thinkingin her presence was like speaking aloud. She heard unspoken words asplainly as those that were uttered. But the suspicion would not besuppressed. Had she formed the audacious plan of winning him forherself? And this despite her three previous marriages, despite herknowledge of why he had visited her, despite his knowledge of Adair!

Quick as a flash her eyes turned on him with a scarcely perceptibleshake of her head. The door clicked discreetly as Porter left them. Itwas like clearing a ring for the second round. The dangerous intimacy, half tender, half inimical, returned. 

"There's no harm in being pleasant, " her voice was musical and pleading, "however unpleasant the circumstances which have thrown us together. Taking tea with me doesn't set up any social obligation. You won't haveto know me again or anything like that. Now that we understand eachother---- How do you like your tea? Is it two lumps?"

With the tongs poised ready to pounce, she waited for him to tell her. But he didn't tell her; he smiled inscrutably. He wasn't sure at whathe was smiling. Perhaps it was that he was happy--happy in aworldly-wise fashion that he had never been with Terry. He could sayanything to this woman and it wouldn't shock her--there was comfort inthat. 

But she had scared up a doubt in his mind that he might have mistakenhis kingdom. Perhaps the recovery of youth wasn't everything. There werethings very precious in themselves, which were well lost under certaincircumstances. Maisie's youth, for instance. She was far more enchantingnow than she could ever have been as a girl. In losing her youth she hadgained in sympathy; it was that that made her understand him so well. Ina wife you wanted more than youth--the knowledge of a companion. Itbegan to dawn on him that there might be truth in what she had said. Perhaps once again she had known him better than he knew himself. He hadbeen with her less than an hour. He didn't completely trust her, and yethere was this astounding fact: by reason of her experience there werethings he could say to her that he would never dream of saying to thegirl whom he believed he loved best. And Adair, he, too----

"You hadn't expected that things would be like this, " she was saying, "just you and I, sitting like old friends and drinking tea together. You'd nerved yourself up for a vulgar row. I know---- Well, since youwon't tell me how many lumps, I'll give you two. "

As he bent forward to receive the cup, their hands touched. The contactwas electric. A rush of excited vitality seemed to pour into his bodyfrom hers. The touch was only for a second, but it left him startled andstark of pretenses. When he sought her eyes, they were calm as ever. "You're a most bewildering woman--the most bewildering I ever met, " heconfessed. 

"Except my sister, " she corrected. 

He glanced up at the portrait and back to her, comparing the features. "Yes, I see it now. She is your sister. I ought to have guessed. But Ihaven't met her; so I don't except her. "

Maisie busied herself with passing the dishes. She had a way of makingeverything appear conventional by the unruffled quiet with which sheaccepted it. At the back of her mind she seemed to be smiling at thedomestic scene she had achieved with this man, who should have been herenemy. 

"No, you haven't met her, " she assented. "But until you've met her, youwon't rest; and after you've met her, you won't rest either. --And so youthink I'm bewildering! You thought something else, which you didn't havethe courage to put into words. Bewildering and dangerous--the mostdangerous woman you'd ever met--that was what you meant. "

He smiled with a shade of embarrassment. "I might have called you themost disconcerting woman; you're all of that. No man of sense, whovalued his peace of mind, would tell any woman she was dangerous. "

"I don't see why. Why shouldn't he? Do tell me. I shan't be offended. "She leant forward, absorbing him with her childish eyes, her lipsparted with expectancy. 

"Because----" Tabs checked himself while he studied the tantalizinginnocence of her expression. He felt certain that he was going to saysomething irresistibly unwise. To gain time he looked away and commencedaimlessly stirring his cup. "Well, if you must have it, because to tella woman that would be to tempt her to be dangerous. "

"But I love to be tempted, " she said eagerly; "temptation is the yeastof life. " And then in a whisper, speaking less to him than to herself, "A woman knows that she's old when temptation ends. "

Like ripples from a stone flung into water the poignancy of what she hadimplied rather than uttered, spread away with a commotion which grewever fainter. They sat without change of posture at either end of thecouch, she bending towards him, he gazing down into his cup as though bystaring into it he could retain his grip on the conventions. There wasno sound, save the rustling of live coals in the grate. Outside thewindow the toy boat floated, a symbol of men's and women's ineffectualchildishness, always dreaming of adventures on which they never setsail. Tabs pondered the hidden profundity of her words. At last hebelieved that through her he understood himself. It wasn't youth that heor anybody coveted; it was the more supreme boon of not growing old. Hehad just arrived at this new self-knowledge when she spoke. 

"To be tempted means that one's wanted--wanted dreadfully, so that ithurts. That's living--to be wanted. Not to be wanted is worse thandeath. When you're dead, you're forgotten and you forget. To beforgotten and to remember is the end of all things. Not to be wantedwhen you're alive is to beat your flesh against the walls of a tomb. Lord Taborley, I know what you came for. " He had set down his cup. Shecovered his bronzed hands with her own passionate white ones, overwhelming him with a rush of words. "You came to accuse me, to bribeme, to buy me. You didn't want to hear me; I was already condemned. Doyou think I don't know what's said about my marriages? I know too well. But it isn't vanity that makes me want to be loved. It's so right to beloved. It isn't wickedness. It's the terror of not being loved--the sameterror that makes you cling to Terry though she doesn't want you inreturn---- We all want to believe that we're wanted. It's human. Withoutthat life's a blank. One can't face up---- And I----"

She tore her hands from him and buried her face, sobbing in thecushions. 

V

He had done it. By some unaccountable blunder he had made her cry. Whatwas it he had said? Only a minute ago she had been so radiant andsmiling. His first thought was of Porter; she must not know. This cryingmust be stopped before she heard it. Any moment she might enter. Evennow she might be listening at the door, preparing to enter. 

Another conjecture rushed into his mind--this sobbing might be part of aprearranged plan. Tears are the jiu-jitsu of woman's art ofself-defense. To the world at large the man is always a villain who hascaused them. "But I didn't cause them, " he protested to himself. Andthen, "Dash it all! There's nothing gained by sitting here. I've got todo something. "

He roused himself and limped round the table to the end of the couchagainst which her face was hidden. He could see nothing but the palegold of her hair, the ivory whiteness of her neck and the pitifulheaving of her fascinating shoulders. She looked extraordinarily like adoll--a broken doll which had been allowed to fall through some one'scarelessness. 

"Confound it! What a brute I am!" he muttered. "What the dickens doesone do with a woman in hysterics?"

He laid his hand very timidly on her silky hair. He had had no idea thatit was so silky. "Cheer up!" he said softly. And then again, "I do wishyou'd cheer up. "

She took not the slightest notice, save that a small white hand scuttledout like a mouse from beneath the cushions and commenced a hurriedsearch. He watched it and formed a hasty guess. It couldn't find thething for which it had been sent, so he dropped his own largehandkerchief in its path, saw it take possession of it and dive againbeneath the cushions. It made no difference to the sobbing. 

What ought he to do? He couldn't endure the sound--it wrenched him. Hebent over her, trying to turn her obstinately hidden face in hisdirection. 

"Maisie!" The word had slipped out. It didn't matter. It mattered solittle that he repeated the indiscretion. "Maisie, you mustn't breakyour heart like that. No one thinks ill of you and you are wanted. You're wanted most awfully. Heaps of people want you. "

The shoulders ceased to heave for a fraction of a second, but her facestill refused to turn. "Who-oo--who wants me?" Her voice reached himchoked with tears and muffled. 

Tabs frowned. The question was a poser. Who did want her? He was blessedif he knew. There must be people who wanted her--Adair, for instance. But the mention of Adair would provide her with a reason for a newoutburst. There was only one thing to say under the circumstances, so hesaid it. "I do. "

She lay so still that she might have been dead. It was frightening, thissudden silence after such a storm of emotion. It was so frightening thathe had to say something more to prove to himself that she could hear. "You're beautiful. You're so gay when you're not crying. I don't thinkany man could prevent himself from wanting you. " And then desperately, in a last effort, "You're most tremendously charming. "

Her face never stirred from the cushions, but he was aware thatsurreptitiously his borrowed handkerchief was being employedindustriously. 

He had just time to compose his features before a tear-wet eye blinkedup at him. It was an eye eloquent with gratitude and babyishly blue. "You're a dear, " a small voice whispered. 

VI

He had been called many things from time to time, but never before "adear. " To be called "a dear" by a beautiful woman was an entirely newsensation for him. It made him distinctly uncomfortable--almost ashamed. A gift of this sort, even though it hasn't been desired, puts therecipient under an obligation. When once a woman has dubbed a man "adear, " she expects him to live up to the part she has assigned him. Tabshoped that she hadn't been as sincere as she had sounded. 

Taking himself off to the nearest French window, he stood staring outmorosely--staring out at the silly little rockery, with the silly littlepond at the foot of it, containing the silly little boat that neversailed anywhere. He was cross with himself and even more cross with her. Why couldn't she have behaved sensibly, instead of bursting like arain-cloud without warning? She made mysteries out of everything, out ofhimself, Terry and even her sister's portrait. She never gave him acomplete answer to any question. She surrounded herself with theatmosphere of a detective novel. He was half-minded to rush into thehall and make good his escape before she involved him further. SirTobias could come and conduct his own unpleasantness. How on earth washe going to tackle her concerning Adair now that she had called him "adear"?

But beneath his irritation and always struggling to surmount it was aquite different emotion--an emotion of tenderness. He kept seeing her asshe had lain there sobbing, so fragile and dispossessed and broken. Itwas the whiteness of her neck that he remembered, the narrowness of hershoulders and the silkiness of her pale gold hair. 

He had been standing at the window for perhaps five minutes when hervoice reached him from a great distance. "Thanks muchly for the hanky. I'm better now. "

"I'm glad, " he said with his back towards her, once again on his guard. 

As he turned slowly, she greeted him with a smile of welcome and noddedtowards her sister's portrait. "She wouldn't have cried, you know. "

"Wouldn't she?"

He had to say something; that seemed as good as anything. He made noattempt to approach her, but stood at bay against the window just wherehe had turned. He had arrived at one fixed determination; whateverhappened, he would not again be entrapped into sharing the couch withher. 

In answer to his unenthusiastic enquiry, Maisie shook her headvigorously like a little girl. "No, Di wouldn't. She never cries. Evenwhen we were children we couldn't make her. "

It flashed on Tabs that this conversation about the unknown woman wasintended as a kind of peace-offering. Not to be ungracious, he rousedhimself to a show of interest. "Couldn't make her! Surely you weren'tso cruel as to try?"

"Here's your hanky, " she said, tossing the moist, scrunched ball acrossto him. "Cruel! We didn't mean to be cruel. I suppose we were. She usedto ask us to try. There was a game we played; we called it ChristianMartyrs. She was always the martyr; she liked it. All she ever did whenwe hurt her was to say, 'Do it harder; I can bear more than that. ' Shewas as proud then as she is to-day of all that she could bear. I thinkthat's what made her husband furious. She seemed always to be saying tohim, 'Do it harder, ' and he certainly did. But neither he nor any oneelse has ever succeeded in making her cry. "

Tabs glanced at the aloof beauty of the painted face--it was like theface of a Roman Empress, so proudly secure in its serenity. "Make hercry! Why should any one want to make her cry? To do that would be a kindof blasphemy. "

"That's why, " Maisie clasped her hands eagerly. "You've said it for meexactly. I've never known how to put it. It's the holiness of God thattempts men to revile Him. He evades them, outlasts them and yet compelstheir affection. They have no power over Him and can't destroy Him, though they can destroy everything else in the world. What a man lovesand has no power over, he longs to destroy; either that, or to drag itdown to his own level, so that he can get his arms round it and comfortits weakness and hug it to his breast. It was that way with Di and herhusband. He couldn't drag her down. He couldn't find her weakness. Shewas always up there. So he reviled her. "

A silence fell between them. They stared at each other across the room'sbreadth, finding each in the other something at the same time intimateand incomprehensible; each feeling that they stood on the verge of adiscovery. It was Tabs who spoke. 

"_Was!_ Then he's dead?"

She barely nodded. "Killed at the Somme, poor fellow. He must have hatedher to the end. In everything else he was large and splendid. "

"And his name?"

Again Tabs was striving to remember where he had seen the unknownwoman's face. He _had_ seen it--of that he was certain. He had the sensethat the circumstances under which he had seen it had been tragic. If hecould only make Maisie reveal the name, he might recall. 

VII

"His name was Lord Dawn. " Seeing the instant puckering of his brows, sheasked quickly, "You knew him?"

"Knew him!" Tabs pondered the question. "I'm not sure. But LadyDawn--I've heard a good deal about her. She had a nursing unit inFrance, didn't she? Of course she had; you and Terry were with her. Itwas in her hospital that Terry met Braithwaite. She passed me yesterday, driving with the Queen in the Park; not that I noticed her. It was Terrywho did that. " He came slowly over from the window to the fireplace andstood gazing level with the picture above the mantelpiece. He spokewonderingly, "The most beautiful woman in England, they say! So this isLady Dawn!"

When he had finished his inspection, his interest and absorption were sogreat that he did what he had vowed he would never do again--he sat downfor a second time on the couch beside her. 

"There's something wrong, " he said quietly. "Either you're misinformedor I'm mistaken. Let's get things straight. "

She made no attempt to conceal her amusement. She attributed hisseriousness to sudden infatuation--an infatuation which made him seemridiculously inconstant after his recent professions concerning Terry. 

"Something wrong!" she echoed mockingly. "If you think that I'veexaggerated anything that I've told you about----" She glanced up at theportrait. "I don't think I'm likely to be misinformed. After all, I'mher----"

"I didn't mean that, " he interrupted impatiently. "I was referring toLord Dawn. If he's the same man, I think both you and she have misjudgedhim. "

Maisie laughed. "Lord Dawn was sufficiently definite. I'm not misjudginghim. He left no room for misjudgment. "

"But you said that he had died hating her. "

"He did, as far as we know. He gave no sign to the contrary. "

"But does she, Lady Dawn, think that?"

"Think that he hated her?"

"No, that he died hating her?"

Maisie picked up a cigarette from the table and looked to Tabs for amatch. She was getting bored. "Why, certainly. One doesn't want to becynical, but all the deaths on the casualty-lists weren't total losses. Some of them were releases. They weren't all--well, to put it mildly, occasions for wearing the deepest mourning. There were English wives towhom German shells were merciful--more merciful than English law. Ifthey took lives, there were cases in which they restored freedom. "

As Tabs struck a match and held it to her cigarette, his hand trembled. He had to steady his passion before he asked his question. "And youthink that she, Lady Dawn, was one of these?"

Maisie blew out a lazy puff of smoke. "Everybody thinks so. " Then sheadded pointedly, "Everybody who knows her and has a right to anopinion. "

Tabs refused to be put off. There was a polite forbearance in his tonewhen he spoke. "The first thing to do is to make sure that my Dawn wasthe same as yours. Mine was known to us by no title; he was a Captain inthe same battalion as myself. He was killed in front of Pozières. --Ah, Isee by the way you start, that so was yours! But here's where thedifference comes in; mine loved his wife, if she was his wife, moredearly than any man I have known. His devotion was the talk of theregiment. "

She flipped the ash off her cigarette. "Then that puts him out of therunning, doesn't it?"

It was the studied carelessness of her gesture that released the triggerof his indignation and made it leap out beyond control. There was in hismind the vision of those blood-baths of the Somme, where men haddrowned in the putrescence and been flattened by shells like fliesagainst a wall. They hadn't all been good before they had reached theirordeal. They had come, as most men come, from every kind of prison-houseof lust and human error. But they'd been good when they had died. They'dbeen reborn into valor and tenderness. And now, to hear theirimperfections discussed in this pleasant room, so entirely feminine, where everything was safe and warm! Their imperfections were so small ascompared with their sacrifice. Modern-day Christs, that's what theywere! Christs by the thousands, who had found no Josephs of Arimathea tohide their defilement in garden-sepulchres. There they lay at thismoment in the wilderness of corruption where they had fallen, whileliving people between puffs of cigarettes, undertook to explain why theyshould not be regretted. 

"Puts him out of the running! It doesn't. "

He leapt to his feet and commenced to drag himself up and down the room, limping backwards and forwards, while she pressed lazily against thecushions at a loss to account for his excitement. 

"It doesn't, " he repeated, pausing opposite to her. "He's still in therunning. The Dawn whom I knew was a very silent man. He was a man with asorrow. It made him careless. He was in the war to die. We all knew it. The men adored him because of it. He was the finest officer in thefinest of battalions. "

He became aware that he was frightening her and sank his voice. Thelowered tone only made what he said the more dreadfully impressive. 

"There was something funny about him. " He all but whispered it. "Something funny that we couldn't understand. We couldn't understand whyhe should want so much to die. The reason why we couldn't understand wasa woman's photograph. "

She looked up at him timidly. "Yes!"

"Wherever he went he carried it. When he went into an attack, he carriedit next his heart. In billets he slept with it beneath his pillow. Hepinned it against the walls of dug-outs. That was where I saw it. Iremember now. It was smeared with the mud of a hundred trenches--Bochetrenches as well as ours. It looked down on curious sights, did thatwoman's printed face in the photo. " He laughed harshly. "Sights thatthose of us who were there will spend the rest of our lives in an effortto forget. And here you and I sit and talk---- Well, as I was saying, wecouldn't fathom why he should be so keen on death when there was thatwoman in the world for whom he cared--for whom he cared right up to thelast. It was at the Somme, in the attack on Pozières, that he went west. He was in command of a company that got cut off. When we found him, hehad that bit of cardboard so tightly clasped that we couldn't take itfrom him. "

He paused, suddenly exhausted. His indignation had burnt itself out. "I'm tired, " he apologized. "I'm afraid I let myself get out of hand. Iscared you for a moment. I'm sorry. Do you mind if I sit down?"

She pushed the table back to make it easier for him to take a placebeside her. "It's all right, " she consoled him. "I know that you're onlyjust out of hospital. Terry told me. You're not really recovered yet. Besides, it was my fault; I spoke lightly. I wasn't thinking what Isaid. But I don't feel lightly about these things. I couldn't. " Then shesaid something which struck him oddly. "You know my man's out there. "

What did she mean by _her man_? If she had said _her men_, he could havecomprehended. She had lost three husbands in the war. But why did sheparticularize and say, "My man"? It seemed cruel to the rest. And whichof the three was it that she regarded as so peculiarly hers. 

He jerked his thoughts back. "There was something you told me about LordDawn; you said it explained him. How did it go? I think you said that hehated his wife as men hate God, because they love Him so much and yet Hewon't come down. Well, out there it wasn't like that. Dawn climbed up toher; yes, and perhaps beyond her. Out there he didn't need to pretend tohate her; he could afford to love her without loss of self-respect. Isuppose he thought it was too late to tell her after all that had gonebefore. "

"Either that, " Maisie assented, "or else---- It would be like him. Orelse because he was too much of a sportsman. As it was, if he werekilled, she wouldn't need to be sorry. But if he wrote her that he lovedher and had always loved her, and then got killed---- Don't you see, that's where her remorse would start?"

Tabs nodded. "And yet she was his last thought. She ought to know it. It's monstrous that she should go on believing----" He broke off. Andthen, "She must be told. It's merest justice--whatever it costs. "

VIII

The light had been failing while they had talked. A tap fell on thedoor. Coming at that moment when their nerves were jangled, it soundedominous. Their heads turned sharply. Maisie's voice was unsteady whenshe asked, "What is it? What do you want?"

"It's Porter, Madam. Dinner is served. "

"Oh, come in, Porter. Have you laid a place for Lord Taborley?"

As the maid entered, Tabs rose. "I had no idea---- Why, I've been herefor hours. I really must apologize, Mrs. Lockwood, and be going. "

However much his reception had been prearranged, dinner had formed nopart of the program. The slightly puzzled expression on Maisie'swatch-dog's face betrayed that fact to him at a glance. 

Maisie laid an arresting hand on his arm. To the maid she saidcheerfully, "It's all right, Porter; Lord Taborley is staying. "

As Porter was making her exit, he commenced again to protest. Maisiesilenced his objections by leaning against him warningly. "You've talkedof everything except me, " she whispered; "it was about me you came totalk. You _must_ before we part. "

Following her across the hall to the dining-room, he reflected on herability for getting him into deeper and yet deeper water. He had thefeeling that he was being led somewhere against his will--somewhere thatmight be for his good or for his harm, but which would inevitably cuthim off from many of his old affections. He had the discomforting sensethat he was doing something disloyal to Terry. Heaven knew what promisesmight not be exacted from him before the evening ended. When would itend? He would have to stay for at least an hour after coffee--that wouldbring him to nine o'clock. Sir Tobias Beddow would have been expectinghim long before that to deliver his account of the result of hismission. Furthermore, Sir Tobias would be demanding an explanation as tohow it was that, having asked for Terry's hand the night before, he wasstill unengaged to her. If he postponed the interview till to-morrow, itwould create the appearance of lukewarmness. He couldn't very wellexcuse himself by saying that he'd spent the afternoon and evening withMaisie. And he couldn't get Maisie to let him off on the plea that SirTobias, her harshest critic, was waiting for him. Besides, he hadaccomplished nothing as yet; Adair Easterday had not been mentioned. 

If ever he made good his escape, he prayed that he might never againencounter a woman possessed of charm. His paramount desire was to seizehis hat and make a furtive exit. There was nothing to prevent him butthe politeness due from a man to a woman--and she traded on it. As hepassed into the dining-room he was secretly on his guard. "I wonder whatshe'll do next to inveigle me?" was his thought. 

"It'll be only a little dinner, " she explained as they seatedthemselves. "You weren't expected. But Porter always has somethinghidden away for an emergency. Don't you, Porter?"

He was getting accustomed to these asides addressed to Porter. He beganto perceive that Porter had other uses besides gliding round the tablein a cap and apron. She was a conversational stop-gap when situationsgrew awkward, as they frequently must between an ensnared bachelor andan unchaperoned widow. 

And she was eligible; he had to own it as they sat down to their firstmeal together. Tea hadn't counted as a meal; you can serve tea toanybody. But dinner for two, in an oak-paneled room, when the springdusk is falling is different. The table was lit by four naked candles. Looped back from the windows hung the marigold-tinted curtains, revealing in triangular patches the courtyard, with its mockvillage-green and its quaintly timbered houses. It looked very real inthe half-light. An electric street-lamp stood out sharply against thefading sky, placid and contemplative as an unclouded moon. Severalhouses away a woman was singing. Sometimes her voice sank so that helost the air; but once, when it rose, he caught the words, "Crushing outlife, than waving me farewell. " He knew what she was singing then andfollowed the air in his imagination. The atmosphere of the room wasvibrant with romance; all that was lacking was his impulse to beromantic. 

Maisie was chattering gayly and forestalling his wants. He reserved asmall portion of his mind for her conversation--sufficient to enable himto reply "Yes" or "No" when the occasion seemed to demand it. It wasclear to him that it made her happy to have a man so entirely at hermercy. She meant immensely well by him. Behind her mist of words sheseemed to be saying, "Isn't it nice to be just we two together?"

But he was thinking of the other three soldiermen who had played thegame of being "just we two together" before him. The singing voice, drifting through the courtyard, put into words the question of histhought, "Where are you now? Where are you now?" Yes, where were they?

He felt pity and distaste for Maisie in equal proportions. Those men hadeach in turn caressed her, dipped their hands in the largesse of herpale gold hair, seen their souls' reflection in the cornflower innocenceof her eyes, drunk forgetfulness from the poppy-petals of her mouth andgone away to die, believing she was wholly theirs. How little of her wastheirs now! She was almost virginal--as though she had never beentouched by their passion. And yet there seemed to be one of them whosememory had outstayed the rest, for she had said, "You know, my man's outthere. " Was she merely a light, predatory woman or---- Or very lovingand lonely?

She was speaking more seriously now. "We mustn't tell her. It's naturalto be sorry for him now that he's dead. " He picked up the thread andguessed that she was referring to Lord Dawn. 

"We must tell her, " he said. 

"But we mustn't, " she urged. "For years he tried to make her wretched. There were rumors of other women. She's found peace at last. It wouldn'thelp him to let her know that he had died loving her out there. He'sbeyond any help of ours. They all are. " He surmised who the _they_ were:the three soldiermen who had sat there before him. In pleading forsilence for others, she was pleading for silence for herself. Again shewas defending herself against his thoughts. "All of the dead had theirchance. Lord Dawn had; there were so many years in which he might havetold her. To tell her now would be to rob----"

She broke off as the maid reëntered with the coffee. Her tone changedinstantly to one of convention. "Not here, Porter. We'll have it in thedrawing-room. "

As he followed her out across the hall, he glanced at his watch. It waspast eight o'clock. He could lose no more time. He must plunge boldlyinto the subject of his mission and bring his visit promptly to an end. He dreaded the temptation of that feminine room, with its coziness andsecurity and quiet. It made him too much alone with her; she was not awoman that it was wise to be alone with too long. 

The moment the maid had left them and the door had closed, he becameconfirmed in the sanity of this decision. Everything in the roomappealed to him to procrastinate. The curtains before the Frenchwindows were closely drawn. The hearth had been swept in their absence;the fire glowed more companionably than ever. About the table, where thecoffee waited, a solitary lamp shed a golden blur. It was heavily shadedwith yellow silk, so that most of its light escaped their faces and felldownwards. 

She had seated herself on the couch. When she had filled both cups, sheglanced up at him smilingly, patting the vacant place beside her as asign that he should occupy it. He was standing before the fire, lookingimmensely tall in the semi-darkness. He could see her plainly where shesat beneath the lamp; but of him she could see nothing but his outline, for his eyes were lost in shadow. When he seemed not to have noticed hersign, "Come, " she said coaxingly. "You don't spare yourself at all. Youmake yourself tired by so much standing. "

"Mrs. Lockwood----" She started as he called her that. Twice already shehad been Maisie to him. "Mrs. Lockwood, as you reminded me beforedinner, it was about you that I came here to talk. Let's get it over. Ihaven't any idea how far things have gone. I should like to believe thatnine-tenths of what's said is nothing more than gossip. But why can'tyou let him alone? He may mean nothing or a tremendous lot to you--butwhy can't you?"

CHAPTER THE FIFTH

THE AIR OF CONQUEST

I

She sat very silently, the way he had seen men sit when they werewounded. She had been expecting the blow and trying to postpone it; nowthat it had fallen her only feeling was one of peace because theexpecting was ended. Her face remained turned towards him, as it hadbeen while he had been talking. As though a mask had dropped, the real, very tired, very young, very lonely Maisie watched him. The wistfulnessof her beauty surprised and touched him. Several times her lips moved inan attempt to say something. Then, at last, "What right have you toask?"

"I should like to claim the right of friendship. "

"Of friendship!" She frowned slightly, peering from beneath the lamp inan effort to make out his features. Then her eyes cleared and shesmiled. "If you don't mean it, please don't say it. You see, it wouldhurt afterwards. And--and I should like to have you for my friend. "

[Illustration: "_Mrs. Lockwood, why can't you let Adair alone?_"]

He came over from the fireplace and seated himself beside her. "We'vebeen almost enemies--just a little afraid of each other. Isn't that so?It's ever so much more comfortable now; we'll be able to talk moreeasily. Tell me honestly, what do you see in Adair?"

"See in him!"

She commenced sipping her coffee. She looked extraordinarily like Terryused to do years ago, when she was a little lass and had been naughty, and had come reluctantly to ask pardon. He thought that if he went ontalking he might make it easier for her. 

"You'll wonder why I, who never knew you until to-day, should have takenupon myself to broach this subject. "

"I don't wonder, " she headed him off. "I know. Terry's my friend. Herfather was determined to send somebody, so she worked things in orderthat you might be sent. She thought that you would be the kindestperson. "

"She thought that!" Tabs was a little taken back by her assertion; itseemed to pledge him to kindness before he had learnt whether kindnesswas required or deserved. It made him in a sense her partisan, when heought to have been impartial. 

"I think I can be trusted to be kind, " he said; "but you must rememberthat I've got to be kind all round. I must be kind to Adair's wife andto his children. If this goes much further it will spell tragedy forthem. "

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed without mirth. "Adair's wifeshould have remembered to be kind to herself. If a woman can't keep herhusband, she never deserved to have won him. And Adair--he's theeasiest man to keep in the world; far too easy to be exciting. If shedoesn't lose him to me, she'll lose him to some one else, unless----"And then she surprised him, "But she won't lose him to me, for I don'twant him. "

Tabs sighed with relief and lit himself a cigarette. "Then that'ssettled. If you don't want him, the trouble's ended, and I think SirTobias and all of us owe you an apology. "

Again she laughed. This time some of her old mischief had come back. "You go too fast, Lord Taborley. I shouldn't advise any of you toapologize to me yet. It's true that I don't want him for keeps, but----"

Tabs guessed the way the ground lay and went back to the question withwhich he had started. "What on earth do you see in him? That's what Ican't make out. "

She kept him waiting for his answer. While he waited, like sunshinestruggling through cloud, amused happiness fought its way into herexpression. When she turned, she met his gaze with complete candor. Shewas again a woman of the world. "What do I see in him? Not much--only amakeshift, a second best. Only a man who needs me for the moment becausehe's lost his direction. You remember our conversation of this afternoonabout having to feel that you were needed. He gives me that feeling, soI'm grateful. That's why I have to have him. "

"Are you so lonely as to stoop--well, to steal to get it?"

He was sorry he had asked it. She bit her lip in an effort to keep backthe tears and to force herself to go on brightly smiling. "Yes, aslonely as all that, " she nodded; "so lonely that it's almost a joke. "

"No joke. " He was at a loss what to say. "But you have friends. You goeverywhere. You----"

"Friends!" she interrupted, laughing with the high-pitched note ofbreaking nerves. "What are friends? People to whom you say, 'How d'youdo?' here and 'How d'you do?' there, every one of whom can do withoutyou. I want some one who can't do without me for a second---- No joke, you said. But it is almost a joke to be young, and eager, andgood-looking, and to know how to dress, and to be so willing to love, and to live in the world just once, and to hear the world go by youlaughing, and to desire so much, " she paused for breath, "and to want togive so much that no one is willing to accept. If one didn't laugh overit, it would be more than one could stand. If one didn't treat it as ajoke----"

He caught her hands. "Steady, Mrs. Lockwood. Stop laughing at once. There's nothing to laugh about. You're nearly over the edge. "

She stared at him with wide eyes, filled with panic, while littleripples of laughter kept escaping from her, which she did her best tosuppress. 

"Now, listen to me, " he continued quietly: "You're not exceptional. You've been expressing something that there's not a man or woman thathasn't felt. I feel it when I realize that I may lose Terry; so doesBraithwaite. Lord Dawn felt it when he couldn't drag his wife down tohim and couldn't climb up to her. And his wife must have felt it too, when she sat always by herself. Phyllis feels it when she sees that, forthe moment, you have more attraction for her husband than she has. AndAdair feels it as well, when he risks his good name for a littledesperate comfort and is willing to clothe you, for whom he professes tocare, with all the appearance of dishonor. You're no exception; it's thefeeling that you are exceptional that makes you unscrupulous in yourself-pity. Get that into your head, that you're not exceptional. Halfthe world's with you in the same box; but it smiles and doesn't own it. Have you got that?"

She nodded and tried to withdraw her hands; but he held them fast. 

"And now as regards this desire to be wanted; that's perfectly right andnatural. There's nobody who doesn't share it. And I understand what yousay about mere friendship. It's unsatisfying and impermanent. It's likea meal snatched at a restaurant; none of the dishes or napkins or tablesor chairs belong to you. They've been used by other people before youand they'll be used by other people the moment your bill is settled. What you want and what every one wants, is something more thanfriendship--a human relation with one person who is so much yours thatyour intimacies are a secret from all the world. "

"Some one with whom I can be little, " she whispered, "and foolish andoff my guard. "

He smiled. "That's it exactly. But you won't get that sort ofrelationship with a man who belongs already to another woman. "

"One gets the pretense. "

He shook his head. "Not even the pretense. There was a phrase you usedabout Adair; you said he'd lost his direction. That's true; he has forthe moment. Presently he'll refind it and the road leads back toPhyllis. You said something else: you called him a second best. That'sall he is, however you take him, whether as a husband, a father or alover. He lacks earnestness; he has always lacked it. I've been hisfriend for years; his flabbiness sticks out all over him. But you're nota second best, Mrs. Lockwood. You're a top-notcher--too fine foranything but the best. You really are. You ought to set a higher valueon yourself. "

She had regained her composure. He showed a willingness to release herhands, but she let them rest where they were like tired birds, while sheregarded him with wistful kindness. 

"Too fine for anything but the best! It's a long while since I heard anyone say that. Reggie used to say it in almost those very words. But thenReggie, " she caught her breath at the remembered ecstasy, "Reggie usedto think that the sun rose and set for me. He was different from allother men. You advise me to reserve myself for the best. How can I dothat, Lord Taborley, when the best is in the past?"

She was very beautiful in the simplicity of her pathos--one of the mostbeautiful women he had ever met. She had become a little child for themoment and her littleness was baffling. He felt extraordinarily near toher and alone with her. There was no longer any danger in theiraloneness. He realized why it was that she was able to give away so muchof herself; there was no value in the gift, for her heart was beyond thecapture of any man. She was the shuttered house of a vanished happiness, inhabited by a restless ghost. The gold light from the lamp fell in apool about her. It revealed startlingly the whiteness of her arms andthroat, the blueness of her eyes and the primrose gleam of her polishedhead. She seemed insubstantial as a dream, environed by shadows. Andwhat did she mean by saying that all her best lay in the past? Surelyshe had misjudged! With her power of charm she could build her world toany pattern. 

"The best in the past! None of us know enough about the future to saythat. The best lies ahead--always. To believe that brings our bestwithin our grasp. "

"For me it can't. " She spoke hopelessly. "No believing can do that whenyour best is dead. "

The finality of her despair silenced him. He could feel it like fingerstightening on his throat. He realized in a flash that this was how he, too, would be tempted to speak were he to lose Terry--that, having lostthe best, any careless makeshift would suffice to comfort him. While heconsidered, her hands snuggled closer in his clasp, establishing a newsympathy. 

"I think, " he said at last, "even though my best were dead, I shouldtry to go on acting as if it lay still ahead. If I did that, round somenew turning I might find it waiting for me as a kind of recompense. "

She leant forward, peering eagerly into his eyes. "Yes. You would dothat. I'm sure of it. I knew you had something to give me the moment wemet. That was why I wouldn't let you escape me. I've learnt the secretat last--the secret of your air of conquest. It isn't that you get yourdesires. It's not that. It's your belief that you will get them thatmakes you strong. "

Somewhere at the back of his head he remembered the pleading of Delilahwith Samson, "Tell me, I pray thee, wherein thy great strength lieth. "

He laughed. "Perhaps you have guessed. I'm what you might call around-the-corner person. I have a philosophy all my own; it's around-the-corner philosophy. I believe that we find everything thatwe've lost or longed for, if we'll only press on. Everything that we'veever loved or wanted waits for us further up the road, round some hiddenturning. It's always further up the road and just out of sight. Thewhole trick of living is to keep your tail up and march forward with theappearance of success, no matter how badly other people say you've beendefeated. More often than not, we're nearer our hidden corners than anyof us guess; it's the pluck to struggle the last hundred yards thatswings us round the turning and wins our kingdoms for us. "

She withdrew her hands and lay back against the cushions. "No amount ofcourage----" She broke off and tried afresh. "Being brave wouldn't puthim again into my arms. You're wondering whom I'm talking about--ReggiePollock, my only husband. The other two didn't count, any more thanAdair counts. I don't say it unkindly. I do want you to believe that. They were passers-by--that was all. They hung their hats in the halland, somehow, they stopped. They were nice boys, both of them. It seemeda kind of war-work to let them marry me. You see, they needed me; sowhen they said they loved me, I didn't have the heart to turn them out. I suppose I was too amiable. But they didn't count--not at all. "

"The war's over, " Tabs reminded her with quiet humor. "How long is thisamiability going to last?"

She smiled dreamily. "Adair again! You don't leave him alone for long. If you think that I ever let him make love to me, you're mistaken. It'sonly that he's unhappy and I can do something for him. "

Tabs wasn't at all sure that it was only that. This fatal amiabilitymight have raised quite different expectations in Adair. Like her twolatest husbands, he might take a notion to hang his hat in her hall. Ifhe did, would she abate her amiability sufficiently to tell him to hangit somewhere else?

She was drifting; what she needed was either a tow-rope or a rudder. Hesent his gaze questing through the shadows. 

"Those five photographs, all of the same man--they're of Pollock?"

"Yes. "

"He was one of the first of all the aces, wasn't he? It was he whobrought down the Zeppelin over Brussels and went missing a few dayslater. You see, I remember his record. He was outstandingly brave at atime when the world was full of brave men. And you tell me he lovedyou?"

An expression of triumph flitted across her face. "Not loved. " Her voicewas full-throated. "He adored me, and to me he was a god whom Iworshiped. I'd have gone through hell for him. I'd----"

"No, you wouldn't. "

The flatness of the contradiction pulled her up short. "No youwouldn't, " he repeated quietly. "You wouldn't even go through this forhim. You wouldn't play the game by him when he was dead. He always kepthis end up, whatever the odds against him; but you--you couldn't. Thiswas your chance to show that you were worthy of him. While he was alive, you played a winning game; it was easy to be true to him. But he--he wasstauncher; he was most to be trusted when the game seemed all but lost. You ought to have kept his spirit alive for us; but you've understood solittle of his spirit that you've been willing to put any stranger in hisplace--to quote your own words, any stranger who chose to hang his hatin your hall. Pollock was a soldier; he didn't need to be sure ofvictory to show courage. It was in tight corners that he was at hisbest. You're in a tight corner now, and you're his wife--the wife whomhe didn't love, but adored. "

The brutal impact of the truth had struck her dumb at first. Her lipshad fallen apart. While she had listened, her face had gone white. Nowthat he paused, she slipped back into the cushions, covering her eyeswith her hands. "For God's sake stop torturing me! Though you think I'mas contemptible as that, don't say it. If you must speak, tell me whatyou think I ought to do. "

"Do! Until you find a living man who's his match, carry on as though hewere not dead. "

She uncovered her eyes and sat upright, staring at him. "As though hewere not dead. But Reggie is dead. You know as well as I do that he'sdead. "

Tabs nodded. "I'm not denying it. But for all that, try to live asthough he weren't--as though somewhere up the road, a day, a week, amonth, a year hence he would meet you round the corner. "

Her interest faded forlornly. "What good would that do? It would only bemaking believe with myself. "

He spoke gently. "Yes, but games of make-believe come true. You couldn'tmeet _him_, but you might meet some one his equal--a man who's, perhaps, already waiting for you, while you squander yourself on makeshifts andsecond bests. "

The little silence which had ended his speech dragged on from secondsinto minutes. In the quiet room nothing stirred. She attempted to freeherself from his gaze by refusing to look at him. Against her will hereyes crept up to his, clashed, evaded, fell back and again crept up tothem. 

At last, speaking humbly, she said, "I was ashamed. You made me ashamed. Whatever I'd done, if he came back, he wouldn't be ashamed of me. Itwouldn't matter how cowardly I'd been or however many husbands I'd had;he'd be so glad to have me in his arms that he wouldn't find time to beashamed of me. So I'm not going to be ashamed any longer; I'm going tostart to live as if he were coming back. It'll be hard at first. Adair--he was nothing. And yet---- I shall miss him, no doubt. You saidsomething this afternoon that you didn't mean. "

"Didn't I? What was it?"

"It was when I was crying because nobody wanted me. Do you remember whatyou said? You said, 'I do, ' not meaning a word of it. Could you manageto want me just a little, Lord Taborley? Not for long, you know; onlytill I've got past the loneliest places--till I've begun almost topersuade myself that he may come back. To think that you wanted me wouldhelp. "

Before he could answer, she had sprung to her feet, all but over-turningthe lamp. "What's that?"

A sharp rat-a-tat-tat had reverberated through the house. While shespoke, it was repeated. Her over-strung nerves gave way. As Tabs rose, she clung to him beseechingly. "Don't let him in. I'm not ready for him. Don't let him in. Go outside and send him away. Tell him anything. Butdon't let him enter. "

Tabs had no clear idea to whom she was referring. It might have been toAdair. It might have been to Pollock. It seemed more likely that it wasto her dead husband. This talk about living as though he might comeback had probably distraught an imagination already over-taxed. 

"He sha'n't enter, " he assured her. "There's no need to lose yournerve. "

As he passed into the hall, he heard the starchy approach of Porter. Hewaited and halted her with, "Mrs. Lockwood asked me to answer it. "

When he had watched her retreat and vanish, he advanced towards thedoor. Who was it out there in the darkness whose knock had power tostrike such terror? It was a terror the excitement of which he at leastremotely shared. The thought crossed his mind, "Is it possible that herlonging could have dragged him back?" He felt as though in thestucco-fronted gloom of Mulberry Court, Fate itself stood waiting forhim on the other side of the panel. With conscious bravado he stretchedout his hand and drew back the latch. 

II

"Is it Mr. Easterday?"

It was a woman's voice that asked the question--a deep voice, thrillingwith emotion, that made him wonder what it would sound like with all thestops pulled out. He had opened the door only a little way, expectingthat he would have to refuse admittance. At the sound of a woman'svoice, his sense of the conventions sprang to life. It must be a gooddeal past ten and here he was answering Maisie's door as though he wereher butler. The kind of conclusions that could be drawn were made plainby the caller's question, "Is it Mr. Easterday?" To be mistaken forEasterday annoyed him. It was tantamount to an accusation. It impliedthat, even though he were not Easterday, the proprietory way in which heattended to other people's doors at after ten o'clock put Him wellwithin Easterday's class. Tabs was particularly annoyed to hear himselfaccused by a voice so gracious and pleasant. His surprise had evidentlyimpressed her as furtiveness, for she said, "So it is Mr. Easterday?"

He was at a loss what to do with her--how to turn her away. For Maisie'ssake she must not be allowed to enter, for then she would discover thatthey had been alone. He opened the door a few inches wider and parriedto gain time. "If it's Mr. Easterday that you're wanting, you've made afortunate mistake. This is Mrs. Lockwood's house. But I happen to knowan Easterday--an Adair Easterday; he's a personal friend. Perhaps he'sthe man you're looking for. If so, I can give you his address. "

This sally was greeted with a quiet, rather mocking laugh. He was usinghis eyes, trying to form an estimate of the visitor. She had arrived ina car, which he judged to be private, for in the light reflected fromthe windshield he could make out the livery of her chauffeur. She wasswathed in a sumptuous wrap which looked as though it were of sable. Sheheld it gathered closely about her, so that it fell in soft folds, revealing and at the same time concealing her figure. He was anxious toread her face, but the lower part was snuggled into the fur of the deepcollar and the upper part was shadowed by a broad-brimmed tulle hat, from which two bird of paradise plumes spread back like wings on thehelmet of a viking. For the rest, she had white kid gloves, whichreached up to her elbows. Outside the glove of the left hand she wore abracelet; every time she stirred the stones struck fire in thesemi-darkness. Her hands were very small. Peeping out from below hergown, the buckles on her high-heeled shoes twinkled. She was mysterious, taunting, and strangely commanding. As she hovered there across thethreshold, a faint perfume drifted up to him like the intoxicatingromance of June rose-gardens under moonlight. 

She, too, seemed to have suffered a surprise at hearing the tones inwhich he had spoken. "His address! Oh, no, it wasn't Mr. Easterday I waswanting. I only supposed---- If Mrs. Lockwood's at home, I should liketo see her. "

Her voice was like a chime of contralto bells. It made him think ofBernhardt. It imparted to the commonplaces she uttered a quitedisproportionate intensity of drama and tragic depth. The way in whichshe had said, "Oh, no, " reverberated in his memory as though the soundstill lingered on the air. 

"I don't know at all, " he commenced. Then he smiled at his confusion. "You see I'm not used to answering doors, and Mrs. Lockwood's not quiteherself. She was very tired just now. But if you'll give me your name, I'll----"

If he'd been left to himself, he might have succeeded in creating theimpression that he was Maisie's physician. As it was, his consciencewas spared the deception by the advent of the inevitable Porter. Shesailed up behind him with an appearance so immaculate that it would haveshed propriety on the most compromising circumstances. He instantlystood aside to make room for her. "Porter, here's a lady enquiringfor----"

But the lady took matters into her own hands. "Mrs. Lockwood in, Porter?"

"Why, certainly, your Ladyship. "

"Then why was I shut out? Who is this gentleman who----"

The rest was lost as their voices sank. The next words he caught wereher Ladyship's, running up the scale of laughter. "Then I'm not _detrop_! That's a blessing!"

He fell back, trying to obliterate himself, as with every sign ofdeference Porter admitted her; but in crossing the hall, she had to passhim. Scarcely pausing, she swept him with a pair of stone-gray eyes, made mischievous for the moment with merriment. "You're no good as abutler, " she whispered. "You carry discretion too far. "

To his chagrin he recognized her--the one woman whom he would most havechosen to have met in an attitude that was dignified. She entered thedrawing-room and was lost to sight. But she had left the door ajar andhe heard Maisie's delighted exclamation, "Why, Di, what brings you hereso late? This is darling of you!" His position was elaborately false. Itgrew more false every minute he delayed. He foresaw himself apologizingand being explained. He had no appetite for explanations. Since he hadadventured into Mulberry Tree Court, he had twice been tempted to boltfor safety. Now that he was tempted for a third time, he acted blindlyon the impulse. Having played the rôle of butler with too muchdiscretion, he seized his hat and, without a thought of ceremony, adopted a butler's mode of escaping. 

III

In the shrouded emptiness of the London night he felt himself freeagain. He came into possession of himself and found that he could thinkwith his old definite clearness. In the last few hours events had rushedhim off his feet; he had no sooner realized their significance than hehad discovered himself in the throes of a new crisis. Now, for themoment, he stood aloof and could consider his actions in their trueperspective. 

As he turned out of Mulberry Tree Court, he had thought he had heard avoice calling after him. "Lord Taborley! Lord Taborley!" He had lookedback across the imitation village-green, where the white posts showeddimly like smudges of chalk. The door of Maisie's house had been openedwide, making a lozenge of gold against the blackness. He had fanciedthat he had seen her standing there framed, leaning out, andthen----Yes, surely he had heard the running of slippered feet along thepavement. He had not waited. He scarcely knew from what he wasescaping--perhaps from his fate, from which there is ultimately noescape. He seized his respite, however, for the dread of recapture wasstrong upon him. 

And now all hint of pursuit had died out. Tall houses stood mutedagainst the sky; dim trees cast a leafy obscurity; stars glintedremotely like diamonds set in gun-metal. He found a healing chastity inhis sudden aloneness; it roused in him an almost angry desire to recoverhis lost monasticism. 

He was amused to discover himself speculating as to whether women wereworth the trouble they occasioned. They coerced men with sentimentalarguments to which there were no replies. They wore away men's fortitudewith the continual flowing of their tears. They molded men's strengthinto weakness with the magic caressing of their sex. They promised anddisappointed, flattered and allured, captured and despised. Theircuriosity was insatiable to possess themselves of secrets, which were nolonger valued the moment they were divulged. Their little teasing hands, so destructive and lovable, had commenced the débâcle of every humangreatness. Throughout the ages, their coaxing, pleading voices could beheard wheedling men's hearts to the same purpose. "Tell me, I pray thee, wherein thy great strength lieth, and wherein thou mightest be bound toafflict thee. " The strength of men had eternally roused theirresentment, whether they were the Delilahs of long ago or the Maisies ofa modern generation. The goal of all their passion, even when it wasunselfish, was to bind. 

He had nearly been bound, but he had escaped. At the thought that hehad escaped, he felt a flood of exultant joy sweep through him. Hesmiled, believing he had discovered a humorous and more human motive forthe exhausting piety of the anchorites. It wasn't their religiousself-abnegation that had made them flee to scorched river-beds anddesert hiding-places; it was their triumphant satisfaction at havingtantalized and eluded feminine pursuit. They fled in order that theymight possess, not deny themselves. As they became more emaciated andscarred and as their needs grew less, they listened. What they heard wasample compensation for all that they had foresworn at the hands of life. Far blown from distant haunts of habitation came a sound which in theirears was sweetest music: day and night the painful dragging of chainsand the groan of men toiling in servitude to women. 

"The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" When the last sleepy caress hadbeen given, all men who lacked the caution of the anchorite, were sooneror later destined to hear that cry. 

How much nobler men had been in a womanless world! Some of them had hadto become womanless before they could be noble. Pollock plunging to hisdeath from the clouds, like an eagle struck by a thunderbolt! Lord Dawnwith the smile of calm remembrance on his lips, purged of all hisfruitless sex-contentions, lying white and quiet beneath the crack andspatter of exploding shells! Braithwaite, the ex-valet, who had provedhimself an aristocrat in courage! And he himself, thinking only of duty, with every jealous ambition laid aside!

And now---- The mate of the eagle was a trifler with peacocks andvultures. The man whose face had been molded by his last thought into anexpression of serene faithfulness, was recalled only as one who hadlived envenomed by disloyalty. Braithwaite, the aristocrat in courage, was now distinguished for his cowardice; he himself was at one and thesame time Braithwaite's rival and grudging critic. _The Philistines beupon thee, Samson! And he awoke out of his sleep and said, I will go outas at other times and shake myself_----Asleep! He felt that he, too, hadbeen asleep. All the men who had been giants in the past five years wereeither dead or sleeping. And this sudden transformation was the work ofwomen, because men had come back to walk and rest with them in the soft, desired places. The little feminine hands had stripped them of theircharity, had taken away their valor and had concealed liers-in-wait inthe chamber of their affections. 

So his thoughts ran on, amplifying, magnifying, exaggerating the themeof the debilitating effects of women. But from all his accusations heexempted Terry. She was the Joan of Arc of his imagination, who rode onunvanquished across life's battlefields, inspiring to heroism with hershining purity. And he made one other exception--Lady Dawn. It was theLady Dawn of the portrait he exempted, not the Lady Dawn who had mockedhim in passing with her steady stone-gray eyes. In a strange way hediscriminated between the portrait and the living woman. The portraitwas almost his friend; the living woman was a stranger. The woman inthe portrait was after his own heart; she had never been known to cry. "Do it harder; I can bear more than that. " He thrilled to the pride ofher defiance. 

Then he pulled himself up with a start. Again he was thinking about her. Yes, and though he might discriminate between the portrait and theliving woman, it was the living woman's eyes that gleamed in theblackness of his mind. There was truth in what Maisie had said, thatwere he as much in love with Terry as he professed all other women, however beautiful, except the one woman, should be hanks of hair andbags of bones. He consoled himself by arguing that that was preciselywhat he had been trying to prove them by his sweeping applications ofthe conduct of Delilah. 

Whichever way he viewed his situation, things were in a pretty fairmuddle--a muddle which annoyed him because it was so unmerited. He waspledged to Terry, while she held herself unpledged. He was committed tohelp Maisie--a distinctly unwise little lady for any bachelor to help. As a third party to his problem, Lady Dawn intruded herself--though whyshe should, he wasn't certain. He would have to see her, however muchMaisie dissuaded; it was right that she should know about her husband. Yet was that the entire reason why he was so keen to see her? He assuredhimself very earnestly that it was, and dismissed her from his mind. 

For the rest of the journey home he conscientiously narrowed hisimaginings to thoughts of Terry. 

IV

It was with thoughts of her that he fitted his key in the latch. TheSquare was full of newly married couples, some of them little more thanboys and girls--youngsters who had waited impatiently and had runtogether the moment war was ended. Others had been married just longenough to be proudly parading their first baby. Every morning whiteprams were wheeled out into the garden, there to be watched over bysoftly spoken nurses. Every night, as dusk came down, expectant motherspaced gently through the shadows, leaning on the arms of ex-officerhusbands. It wasn't only in the trees that nests were being built. TheSquare's name might well have been changed to Honeymoon Square. 

And now, as Tabs pushed the door open, preparing to enter, he knew thatall up and down the Square, behind the pall of darkness, other doorswere being pushed back. Young couples were coming home from dinners andtheaters. He could hear the murmur of their laughter, subdued andsecret, hinting at intimacies of affection. The men had misplaced theirlatch-key perhaps; the girls were advising that they search anotherpocket. Or the lock refused to turn and the girls were whispering how itcould be persuaded. Some of them were arriving in taxis; others, lesslucky or more economic, were tripping by on foot along the pavement. Henoticed how closely they clung together and he thought of Terry. Itwould be jolly to be young, to build a nest and, by and by, to see yourown white pram wheeled out to take its place in the blowy greenness ofthe garden. He withdrew his key and entered, closing the door behindhim. 

The house was very still. It was nearly midnight. The maids had gone tobed, leaving lights in the hall and on the landings. As he hung up hishat, the stillness was broken by the sudden ringing of the telephone. Itrang in a peevish, scolding manner, as though this were not the firsttime and it had lost its temper with waiting. He climbed the flight ofstairs to his library and, without waiting to switch on the lights, satdown at his table, taking up the receiver. 

"Yes. "

"Is this Lord Taborley?" a voice inquired. 

"Lord Taborley speaking. "

"This is Sir Tobias Beddow. " There was a pause, followed by a littleasthmatic cough. Then, "How are you, my dear fellow? I've been trying toreach you all evening. I was expecting to see you round here thismorning at eleven. --No, I don't mean perhaps what you infer. Besides, itwouldn't have been any good if you had called; Terry wandered out, without leaving word where she was going. She didn't get back tillnearly lunch-time. Most unaccountable conduct under the circumstances;but since your conduct was equally unaccountable, perhaps it was just aswell. But that wasn't what I called you up about. "

Tabs smiled in the darkness. Sir Tobias was as simple and crafty as achild; he couldn't keep anything back. Then his mind jumped to theobvious conclusion. Terry hadn't told her parents about her morninginterview; her parents naturally supposed that it was his fault that hewas not engaged to her as yet. Making an effort to be diplomatic, hesaid, "Perhaps I can explain my apparent negligence to you later. Itmust seem unpardonable. I've been busy every minute over things thatabsolutely couldn't be avoided. "

"Of course. Of course. " The words were spoken soothingly, but withoutconviction. "We men understand. It's Lady Beddow who---- Such events arewomen's great occasions. She's a stickler for form. As you say, you canexplain later---- But that wasn't what I called you up about. "

Tabs stifled a yawn. He had suddenly discovered he was sleepy. 

"What was that you said?" Sir Tobias enquired suspiciously. 

"I didn't say anything, " Tabs replied politely. "But I think I know whatyou called me up about. It was about Maisie--I mean Mrs. Lockwood. "

"What about her?" The question was asked carelessly; he knew at oncethat he had missed his guess. It was strange, even though he had guessedwrongly, that Sir Tobias should not display more interest. 

"What about her? Only that I've spent the last six hours with her. Youasked me to see her as soon as possible, you remember. I had only justgot home from being with her, when the telephone rang. She's not thewoman we thought her. "

"Eh? What's that?"

He repeated what he had said. He was perfectly certain that Sir Tobiashad heard the first time. "She's not the woman we thought her. " And headded, "There's been some mistake. She hasn't and never did have anydesigns on Adair. After we'd talked things over, she agreed of her ownaccord never to see him again. "

"She did!" There was a long pause, expressive of skepticism, dissatisfaction, or anything that he cared to conjecture. Then, "When wemeet, you can tell me. But that wasn't what I called you up about. "

Tabs waited for him to tell him why he had called him up. He waited solong that it seemed to be a competition to see who would compel theother to break the silence first. At last he gave in. "If that wasn'twhy, why did you?"

He almost heard Sir Tobias blink his eyes--those faded eyes that lookedso blind and saw so much. "I called you up about this GeneralBraithwaite. He's been here to see me on the biggest fool's errand, withthe most unusual story which, if it's true, partly concerns yourself. It's too late to enter into details this evening. But I thought I'd letyou know---- Good night. "

"One minute, Sir Tobias----"

Before he could get any further Sir Tobias had hung up. For a fewseconds he sat there in the darkness listening; then he hung up also andtook himself off to bed. 

What object had Braithwaite had in going to see Sir Tobias? Was it hisfirst step in trying to play fair? Was his "fool's errand" a formalrequest for Terry's hand in marriage and his "unusual story" a manlyrecital of the facts? And had this great advance in frankness includedthe telling of Ann? As he tossed sleeplessly from side to side, otherproblems leapt up to confront him. Had he done wisely in promisingMaisie that, in a measure, he would compensate her for the loss ofAdair? What would Sir Tobias think of such an intimacy when he got tohear of it? What would even Adair think of it? There was only one personwho would not doubt his integrity; that was Terry. And then LadyDawn--had he actually any moral right to interfere in her affairs? "Doit harder; I can bear more than that. " He could hear her saying it inthat deep, emotional voice of hers. He could feel her honest stone-grayeyes, probing his soul for motives in the darkness. 

Day was breaking and birds were stirring in the mist of greenness thattopped his windows, before his eye-lids closed and he slipped off intoforgetfulness. 

V

"To-morrow's another new day, " he thought as he awoke. One could meetany and every indebtedness to life if he only had a sufficient fund ofto-morrows in his bank. 

He looked at his watch and leapt out of bed. Nine o'clock! He had sleptlate. He didn't hurry over his dressing. He could afford to be late foronce. The mood of conquest was upon him. Maisie had said that. No, itwasn't _the mood_ but _the air_ of conquest that she'd said he had. Whichever it was, he would prove her a true prophetess. He might notgain all his desires, but he'd at least wear the air of one who wasgoing to gain them. To-morrow was another new day, and to-morrow hadarrived. 

On coming down to breakfast he scrutinized Ann's features closely tolearn whether she had heard anything from Braithwaite. They told himnothing. Presently, however, while she served him, she began to openout. 

"Did your Lordship speak to the gentleman at the War Office?"

Tabs had been glancing through the morning paper. He looked up. "Yes, Idid, Ann. I placed your letter in his hands, and saw him read it. "

"Did he say anything or promise anything to your Lordship?"

Tabs pursed his lips judicially, trying to avoid a lie. "You know whatthese War Office officials are. They never make promises to any one. ButI believe this one's a good-hearted chap. When he realizes how much thisthing means to you, I think he'll do his best. "

"Then he didn't show your Lordship my letter?"

Tabs had dipped into his newspaper again. He detested the well-meantdeceit he was compelled to practice. This time, when he answered, hedidn't raise his eyes. "No, he didn't. "

But she didn't efface herself, as he had expected. She stood there, toone side of his chair. He felt that she was looking down at him. Justabove the edge of his paper he could see her hands clasped together, pressing against each other in agitation. He abandoned his refuge anddropped the paper to the carpet. 

"Something more that you want to ask me? What is it?"

"Your Lordship said that when the gentleman realized how much all thismeant to me, he'd do his best. "

"That's what I said and I'm sure of it. "

"What I wanted to ask was, does your Lordship think he has realized?"

It was the way she said it that roused his curiosity. Could she haveguessed? Had she read the address on that letter which he had given herto post to General Braithwaite, and put two and two together?

He met her eyes--good, gray eyes, with something of Lady Dawn's gravehonesty in their expression. "I think he has realized. "

"Thank you, sir; and I'm sorry I had to trouble you. "

She withdrew, leaving him with the disturbing sense that she hadintended more than she had said. He gathered up the paper from the floorin the hope that a perusal of it might enable him to recover his lostequanimity. In so doing he caught sight of the last page, whichcontained the photographic items. Braithwaite's face stared up at him. Above it was printed the caption, "_Youngest Ranker Brigadier DemobbedYesterday_. "

If she had seen that, she knew. If she had seen it, what would be hernext move--appeal or revenge? What had been the significance of herfinal question, "Does your Lordship think he has realized?" Did she knownow; had she even known when she had written her letter that it would bereceived by Braithwaite himself?

If she didn't know and had not seen the paper, he was determined thatshe should not see it. Before leaving the room, he stuffed it into theempty grate and applied a match. He would play fair by Braithwaite. Hewas so eager to play fair that he did not turn to go upstairs till everyvestige of print had been licked to ashes. 

VI

His library occupied the whole of the second story; even at that it wasnot very large. It had two long French windows, opening onto a verandawhich looked out over the Square. The veranda was constructed of wroughtiron, painted green, and ran straight across the front of the house. Annused it for giving her plants an airing; they usually formed a truantgarden beyond the panes. There was a smaller window at the back, fromwhich a view could be obtained of the Oratory. 

The room was furnished in English red lacquer, which had beentransferred from the collection at Taborley House, when Taborley Househad been lent to the Americans for a military hospital. The walls werehung with landscapes by Zuccarelli and with Chinese portrait-groups ofthe Eighteenth Century. 

He had scarcely entered before the telephone renewed its irritatingclamor, like a fretful child which yelled whenever it heard hisfootstep. He responded to its fretfulness in very much the same mood, seizing hold of the receiver as though he would shake it into silence. 

"Yes. Hullo! Hullo! Yes, this is Lord Taborley. What's that? You didn'tcatch what I---- It's Lord Taborley speaking, I said. "

"Well, I must say you don't sound very nice. " It was a woman's amusedvoice. "Even at this distance, you make me almost afraid. I do hope youhaven't been like that all night. "

Tabs made his tones more smiling. "I'm sorry if I don't soundsufficiently pleasant. But who are you?"

"Well, who do you think?" There was a snatch of laughter. "I'm Maisie; Imean Mrs. Lockwood. You needn't tell me that you're not frowning, because I can feel it. What's the matter?"

He pulled a wry face at himself in the opposite mirror and shrugged hisshoulders. Down the 'phone he said with excessive amiability, "Nothing. I'm top-hole. How are you feeling?"

Her answer came back like a flash, "Vulgar and not very safe. " It wasfollowed by a gurgle of merriment. 

"I'm not sure that I understand your symptoms. "

The gurgle was repeated. "You wouldn't. Lord Taborley never feels vulgarand he's always safe. But this is one of my vulgar days, when I'm notto be trusted. I always have one when Di has been to visit me; it's therelapse after contact with too high standards of respectability. I'mliable to do anything. I married Gervis and Lockwood after being withher. I shall break out to-day if you don't come at once and stop me. Unless--unless you don't want to stop me and would prefer the experimentof being vulgar together. "

"The prospect sounds alluring. " He was trying to let her down lightly. "But I'm afraid I have too many engagements on hand. "

"Oh!" It was the _oh_ of disappointment. When she spoke again her gayirresponsibility had vanished and a coaxing quality had come into hervoice. "I know you've only just got home from being with me--I meancomparatively speaking. I don't want to make myself a burden to you, but---- It's such a jolly day. Have you been up long enough to look outof the window? I thought we could go off somewhere--to the Zoo, perhaps, and drink lemonade all among the monkeys and the nuts. I woke upplanning it. We'd limit our spending money to five shillings likekiddies, and do all our riding on busses. Doesn't that sound jolly?"

"Immensely, " he agreed; "but I'm afraid no amount of jolliness couldtempt----"

She broke in on him. "It's the kind of thing I used to do with Adair. "

The meaning of this last remark was plain; she was reminding him that ifthe pair of shoes vacated by Adair were to remain vacated, he must paythe promised price on occasions by wearing them himself. He determinedto get behind her diplomatic hints with frankness. 

"I don't want you to think, Mrs. Lockwood, that because I have to refuseyour first request I'm going back on our contract. There'll be plenty ofother opportunities. "

He caught her sigh of relief across the line. When she spoke again itwas with a new brightness and reasonableness. "I'm glad you said that. So you really are going to help me? I was a wee bit afraid that you'dgone back on your bargain by the way you ran away. "

It was his first experience of the advantage a woman gains when sheattacks a man from the other end of a telephone. He had trouble inmaking his voice sound patient. He replied with conscious hypocrisy, "I'm sorry I created the impression of running away. "

"You did. " Her answer came back promptly. "You created the sameimpression on us both. I had to do a lot of explaining to Di. "

"And I was trying to save you embarrassment, " he excused himself. 

"Eh! What's that?"

To his immense surprise a third voice--a man's--jumped in on theconversation. "Are you there? Is this Lord Taborley?"

Tabs was just getting ready to confess that he was there and that he wasLord Taborley, when Maisie took matters out of his hands by informingthe intruder that the line was occupied and that he was interrupting aconversation. 

"I'm sorry, " the intruder apologized, "but my time's valuable. I've beenkept waiting for the best part of quarter of an hour. Are you thetelephone-girl that I'm talking to?"

"Indeed I'm not, " said Maisie with considerable haughtiness. "Please getoff the line. " And then to Tabs, "Are you still there, Lord Taborley?This is Mrs. Lockwood. Can't you postpone some of those engagements sothat we can meet to-day?"

At that moment the girl at the switch-board took a hand. There was aconfused gabbling and buzzing of voices, out of which the suave tones ofthe intruder emerged triumphant, saying, "This is Sir Tobias Beddow. CanI speak with Lord Taborley?"

Perhaps Maisie had heard. At all events, the moment Sir Tobias declaredhimself the line cleared. 

But it wasn't what Maisie had overheard that disturbed Tabs; it was theuncertainty as to how much of her conversation had been listened to bySir Tobias. After all, prospective fathers-in-law are only human and aslikely as any other class to jump to damaging conclusions. Tabs hung upthe receiver, making it necessary for him to be summoned afresh beforehe acknowledged his presence at the 'phone. Then, "Good morning, SirTobias. "

"Good morning, my dear fellow. " Sir Tobias was as courtly and friendlyas ever. "I called you up to know whether you could run round to see mebetween now and the forenoon. Yes, the matter I mentioned to you lastnight. About eleven, you say? Very well, then, I shall expect you. "

VII

No sooner had the butler with the velvet-plush manners admitted him thanhe found himself face to face with Terry. She must have known that hewas expected and have been lying in wait for him. Before he could say aword, she pressed a finger to her lips, signaling caution. To the butlershe said in a low tone, "It's all right, James; you don't need to wait. I'll announce Lord Taborley. " The discreet James showed a fittingappreciation of romance by folding his plump hands across the pit of hisstomach, making the ghost of a bow and tiptoeing noiselessly into thenether regions with the stealth of a conspirator. 

Terry's face was a picture of innocence. After Maisie she struck him asvery young--much too young to love or to know the meaning of love. Thesight of her freshness was forbidding. It made him seem jaded. It filledhim with a reverence that was not far short of worship. He felt itimpossible to think of her as performing the ordinary acts of a mortalworld. He had the feeling that she moved on higher levels--that she wasa creature too shy and perfect to be made the instrument of passion. Sheshould be guarded in her purity like a vestal virgin, so that herstraight young body might be forever valiant and her eyes might neverlearn the cowardice of tears. 

In the brave March sunlight which shafted down on her, her head lookedmore like a Botticelli angel's than ever. The raw gold of her bobbedhair shone solid as metal, making a sharp edge where it ended againstthe ivory pallor of her throat. She was dressed in a white tailor-madeserge. Her violet eyes danced with eager secrets. 

"What are you doing to-day?" she whispered. 

"Nothing!" he whispered, "if you want me. "

"Then invite me out to lunch. I've such heaps to tell you. Don't letDaddy take you to his club--I know he's going to ask you. And, oh, before I forget, I've told them nothing about yesterday, so don't giveme away by accident. " Then in a sly aside, just as she was turning thedoor-knob to admit him to her father's library, "You've been getting onfamously with Maisie, haven't you?"

Before he could reply, they were across the threshold. There was a soundas of a rheumaticky hen stirring in its nest. The neck of Sir Tobiascraned painfully round the corner of a high-backed chair. 

"Here's Lord Taborley to see you, Daddy. Don't keep him forever. He'sjust invited me to go out with him to lunch. "

Having shot her bolt, with the masterly strategy of her sex, shevanished, pulling the door behind her. 

What would Shakespeare have said under the circumstances, and what woulda suitor have said to Shakespeare when he knew that he was suspected ofhaving gone back on his request for the daughter's hand in marriage?Tabs almost felt that he was in the actual presence of the bard ofStratford, Sir Tobias looked so ineffectually pompous and overweightedwith gravity. Both Sir Tobias and Shakespeare, in the opinion of Tabs, were vastly overrated persons; but the only thing Shakespearian aboutSir Tobias this morning was the magnificent calmness of his forehead;his podgy body, supported by its stiff little pen-wiper legs was morereminiscent of Punch, as portrayed on the cover of the famous weeklywhich bears his name. 

"Immensely considerate of you to come, " puffed Sir Tobias, leveringhimself out of his chair in order that he might shake hands. 

"Not kind at all, " Tabs contradicted cheerfully. "I kill two birds withone stone; I have my conversation with you and in half an hour I carryoff Terry. "

That'll make him hurry up with whatever he has to say, he thought; itsets a time limit. 

The old gentleman seemed put out to find himself deprived of hisprerogative to be elaborate and prosy. He made a gesture, indicatingthat Tabs should copy his example and choose a chair. But Tabs ignoredit. He had learnt that a man on his feet has the advantage, especiallyif he stands six foot two in his socks. 

"You'll be wanting my news, " he suggested. "I told you pretty welleverything across the telephone. I think it's a case of everybody havinggot the wind up--Phyllis particularly. Mrs. Lockwood's a very restfulwoman. I should call her a man's woman. She's bright and entertainingand pretty, and she owns a charming little house. She had noresponsibilities, so she's free to entertain from morning till night. Adair has without doubt visited her more often than was wise. It wasremarkably foolish of him to have made a woman-friend whom he didn'tshare with Phyllis. But I suppose he didn't dare to introduce them afterhe'd seen that Phyllis was jealous. However that may be, this dread thatthey may run away together is moonshine. Mrs. Lockwood sets too high avalue on herself. Besides, there's only one man whom she loves or everhas loved for that matter. He happens to be dead!"

"One moment, my dear fellow, " Sir Tobias interrupted, "I alwaysunderstood that the lady had had three husbands. Was this man one ofthem or did she have no affection for any of the men she married?"

Tabs felt himself cornered--and he had been getting on so well. Herealized that if once he allowed Sir Tobias to start questioning him hewould get tangled up. "She's complex, " he explained; "she's complex inher simplicity. She's one of the most simply complicated andcomplicatedly simple women that I ever met. To understand her you haveto talk with her. I talked with her for six hours. The upshot was thatshe promised to shut her door against Adair. "

The innocent old eyes blinked. "I'm not modern, like you, Lord Taborley. I have my suspicions of these simply complicated and complicatedlysimple women. Set me down as old-fashioned. Having been only oncemarried, I can't enter into the refinements of feeling of suchmatrimonially inclined boa-constrictors as Mrs. Lockwood. I sha'n't givemyself the chance of meeting her. I'm an old man; it would be tooupsetting. If I talked with her, I shouldn't understand. So I must takeyour word for it that, however much appearances may have been againsther, her motives were beyond question. " He slipped forward in his chairwith a disconcerting suddenness; for a moment his filmy eyes becamepenetrating. "She seems to have made a deep impression on you, my dearfellow. If your optimism proves correct and through your efforts Adairis free from her clutches, we all owe you a debt of gratitude. But--andI'm sure you won't take amiss what I'm saying--I would advise you, nowthat you've effected Adair's rescue, not to see too much of heryourself. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn't see her any more if I couldhelp. "

It was clear that the benignant, sly old gentleman had overheard asubstantial part of Maisie's telephone conversation. It was equallyclear that his interference was wisely and kindly intended. He had aperfect right to be scrupulous about the conduct of a man whom heregarded as his future son-in-law; but he had no right to take advantageof the worst managed telephone-system in the world to eavesdrop on aprivate conversation. At the same time Tabs could hardly accuse him ofeavesdropping, so he fell back on his dignity for defense. 

"I've always been very well able to take care of myself, " he saidquietly. "If I hadn't been, I shouldn't have undertaken your missionand have gone to interview the kind of woman you described. I found, however, that she didn't live up to your description of her; in fairnessto her I have to let you know that. I don't think you appreciate, SirTobias, what a delicate situation you created for both of us. She's awoman of breeding; which goes without saying since she's Lady Dawn'ssister--a fact which you withheld from me. You sent me to her house as akind of moral policeman with a warrant for her arrest. She was wellaware of that and she was also aware that the charge you laid againsther was almost libelously mistaken. All I can say is that she hasbehaved very handsomely. Since you and Phyllis have misunderstood herfriendship for Adair, she's willing to break off relations. The mostcourteous and only decent thing that we can do is to cease discussingher. It's an incident which does none of us much credit. "

As he had warmed to her defense, Tabs had been very conscious that hewas being more than generous--perhaps even more generous than truthful. It hadn't been his intention at the start to depict her as a wronged andspotless angel; but the skepticism of the attentive old image, bleachedwith disillusions and faded with years, had goaded him to excess. 

Sir Tobias had listened, scratching his pointed beard thoughtfully, withentire amiability. He was utterly unimpressed and visibly unashamed. "You're a man of the world, my dear Taborley, and you have the advantageof having seen her. From what you say I gather that she's not badlooking. To the not bad looking much is forgiven. Nevertheless, I standby my opinion that she's not a safe woman to see too often. However, you're master of your own actions and that's neither here nor there. "

He commenced to fumble through his pockets. When he had found hiscigarette-case, he proffered it to Tabs, who refused it. 

"I wish you'd sit down, my dear fellow. "

Tabs glanced at his watch. There was only a quarter of an hour left ofthe time he had allotted. As a concession to Sir Tobias he seatedhimself. "It was about General Braithwaite that you called me up lastnight?"

"Yes. But there's no hurry. We can discuss that over lunch. "

Tabs considered that the time had come to be firm. "I'm sorry, SirTobias. Terry's lunching with me. We start in something less thanfifteen minutes. "

Sir Tobias screwed himself round and surveyed his future son-in-law witha mild amazement. For forty years he had been accustomed to having hisown way unchallenged. "Terry can wait. " He spoke as though the matterwas now settled. "What I have to tell you is important. "

"And so is what I have to tell Terry. " Tabs emphasized his statement byglancing again at his watch. 

For a few seconds Sir Tobias was at a loss. To hear himself opposed wasa novel experience. Then he thought he had discovered a consolingreason for this obstinacy and smiled loftily, as Shakespeare retired toStratford might have smiled at hearing himself reminded by Ann Hathawaythat he was not so great a man as London had imagined. 

"Very well, my dear fellow, " he conceded; "young blood will have itsway. I withdraw for this once, since your plans are already made. "

His forgiveness was brushed aside. Time was pressing. Tabs forced him tothe point without further ceremony or waste of words. "When you phonedyesterday evening it was nearly midnight, so the matter must have seemedurgent. You said that General Braithwaite had been to see you on afool's errand, with a story that partly concerned myself. May I ask howit concerned me?"

"You're brusque, very brusque, " Sir Tobias complained. "We could havetalked this over much better at my club. "

When Tabs showed no signs of relenting, he revealed his real feelingstestily. "You know this fellow Braithwaite. You must have recognized himthe moment you clapped eyes on him. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tabs looked up quickly, taken aback and slightly resentful at theperemptory tones in which he was addressed. "It wasn't my business. Apart from that, I was aware of nothing to his discredit. " Once again asin the case of Maisie, he was allowing himself to be goaded out ofjustice into excessive generosity. 

"Nothing to his discredit! That depends on your point of view. " SirTobias sniffed audibly. He could be as a rude as a spoilt child. "Thatdepends on how deeply interested you're in--in my daughter. "

"I think I gave you proof of my interest, Sir Tobias, the other eveningwhen I asked----"

"Pshaw! You know very well what I'm driving at, Taborley. "

"Nevertheless, I should like to hear you put it into words. "

Sir Tobias gave one of his remarkable exhibitions of youthfulness. Flinging aside his decrepitude, as though it had been no more than anaffectation, he shot bolt upright, gripping the arms of his chair. "Lastnight, within a handful of hours of my forbidding him the house, he hadthe impertinence to call here to inform me that he was in love withTerry. Not content with that, he added insult to his impertinence bytelling me that he had been your valet. How is it, Taborley, that onthat evening when you dined here as his fellow-guest, you never oncehinted by look or word that he wasn't the part he was playing? I can'tconsider that very honorable of you. As an old friend, quite apart fromany new relationship, I had the right to expect that my interests werenearer to your heart. It upsets me to find I was mistaken. Have you solittle pride in the girl you propose to marry that it doesn't offend youto see her gadding about with ex-servants? You saw them get up and leavethe table that night. You heard the front-door bang and knew that they'dgone out together--my daughter with the fellow who used to put the studsinto your shirts! And there you sat with me, sipping your coffee andchatting as though it were all perfectly right and normal. Upon my soul, Taborley, you're beyond my comprehending. If I, her father, can feelthis indignation, what ought not you to feel? You're supposed to be herlover and you're not jealous. So far as I can see, you're not evendisturbed. "

Tabs' face had gone suddenly white. He acknowledged to himself that, hadhe been Terry's father, he would have said no less. When he spoke it waswith quiet intensity. 

"I am annoyed, Sir Tobias--a good deal more annoyed than I care to ownto myself; but I try not to let my annoyance obscure my sense ofjustice. It isn't fair to consider Braithwaite in the light of aservant. He isn't a servant; he's won his spurs. He arrived at theposition he occupies to-day through original and unaided merit. That theman who was my servant, happens to be my rival, is bitterly galling. ButI'm not going to let it blind me to the fact that he has qualities ofgreatness. He proved those qualities, even more than on the battlefield, when he came to you and pluckily told you the truth about himself. Godknows what he thought to gain by it; but I'm hats off to him. "

Sir Tobias threw out his hands in a disowning gesture. "I don't want toquarrel with you--that's the last thing I desire. But I must confessthat I fail to sympathize with your attitude of mind. Magnanimity is allvery well, but it's easy to be magnanimous where your affections aren'ttoo deeply concerned. A man in love has no right to be magnanimous--itisn't a healthy sign. Lady Beddow used those very words to me thismorning. She feels as I do, that in your attitude to Terry you lacksomething. You've let two days elapse since you asked my permission toapproach her---- You're the same with this Maisie woman--inhumanly, unsatisfactorily magnanimous. You don't identify yourself with ourantipathies--you almost side with the people who affront us. It'sestranging and distressing. I like a man to be more emphatic in hisloyalties and aversions. I like him to show more fire. In days that Ican almost remember, Braithwaite's intrusion would have been an occasionfor a duel. Terry's mother feels the same about you; it makes herunhappy. 'He lacks ardor'--that was how she expressed it. 'Perhaps, after all, he's too old for Terry, ' she said. Personally I don't go asfar as that. "

Now that he had made an end, Sir Tobias attempted to beam on Tabs withhis accustomed suavity. He was skillful in saying offensive things withan air of consideration. When he had said, "Personally I don't go as faras that, " he had leant out and patted Tabs' hand with a senile displayof affection. 

_Too old for Terry!_ Tabs sat pondering the words. They voiced his owndoubt--the doubt that had haunted him from the moment of his return. Theantiquated version of Shakespeare sat watching him, plucking at hispointed beard and blinking his faded eyes shrewdly. 

Suddenly with a cavalier smile of conquest, which was strangelyunwarranted, Tabs swung himself to his feet. "Well, Sir Tobias, we'vetalked for more than our half hour. After all, it doesn't matter acontinental what you, or I, or Lady Beddow feels. It's Terry's feelingsthat count. I shall know what she feels before the afternoon is ended. "

He was holding out his hand to the surprised old gentleman, when thedoor opened just sufficiently to admit Terry's head. 

"Come on, your Lordship!" she laughed mockingly, "you've kept me waitinglong enough. "

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

TRAMPLED ROSES

I

As Tabs emerged from his interview with Sir Tobias, he found Terrystanding in the hall, doing up the last button of her gloves. James, ofthe velvet-plush manners, lost no time in proffering him his hat andcane, and in flinging the front-door wide. He did it with the air of asentimentalist who was aiding and abetting an elopement. Tabs had thefeeling as he limped along the pavement with Terry tripping at his side, that the eyes of the house which they had left followed them--followedthem jealously, romantically, expectantly. There was only one way inwhich they could give satisfaction and that was by returning to itengaged. 

"He lacks ardor. Perhaps, after all, he's too old!" Lady Beddow'scriticism drummed in his mind. Not very pleasant hearing!

Silence was maintained till they had rounded a corner and the tall buffhouse was left behind. Then Terry raised a shy, laughing face. "Downcast, Tabs? You look as though you were bearing the sins of all theworld. "

"Not of all the world!" he corrected gravely. "Only of three people. "

"Then I'm one of them. Who are the other two?"

"You know already--Mrs. Lockwood and Braithwaite. I saved all yournecks, but I broke my own. "

She brushed against him affectionately. "Tabs, you're a trump. "

Her praise displeased him. "I didn't tell you for that. "

"Then why?"

"Because I thought you ought to know. " He slackened his pace. "I thoughtyou ought to know that your father isn't as keen on me as he was, Terry. "

"That's all right, " she said cheerily; "I am. But what have you beendoing to Daddy?"

"Describing Mrs. Lockwood as a lady above reproach and accusing him ofuncharity towards Braithwaite. "

She tossed her head and laughed outright. "You _have_ become converted!"

"Converted!" He pondered her assertion. "No. I'll acknowledge that I wasinclined to be too harsh at first. I may have become more pitiful; butI've not become converted, if by that you mean that I condone what thesetwo people have done. I still think that Mrs. Lockwood's conduct withAdair was inexcusable and that Braithwaite's holding back the truth fromyou was dishonorable. In talking with your father I gave Braithwaite allthe credit for speaking out to him like a man, and I let him supposethat Mrs. Lockwood had given up Adair unconditionally. As you know, Braithwaite didn't come up to scratch till I'd handed him yourultimatum; and Mrs. Lockwood---- But you don't know about her yet. Ihaven't told you. "

"I know, " Terry smiled roguishly. "Maisie's a great abuser of thetelephone. She called me up this morning to ask whether she might shareyou with me for a few weeks. When I asked her why, she said to help herto forget Adair. Of course I consented. "

Tabs looked down at his companion to see whether her last remark hadbeen sarcastic; to his discomfort he found that it hadn't. "I'm not surethat I like to be lent round like that, " he objected. "I was sorry forher last night and promised to help her; but this phoning you up to askyour permission puts an entirely erroneous complexion on the affair. "

"Not erroneous if I understand, " she assured him, glancing up withtender frankness. 

He smiled at the way she cozened him. Was she willing to lend him toanother woman because she was so sure of him, or because she didn't carewhether she lost him?

"Your father suspects me of being lukewarm about you, " he said; "and Ican't blame him. He knows nothing about our meeting yesterday. Hedoesn't know that you care for Braithwaite. All he knows is that I askedhis permission to approach you and then let two days elapse. When I didcome to his house again it was to defend the two people who have causedhim most annoyance. My reason for defending them was that I might makethings easier for you. But my position is false, Terry. Every day yourparents are expecting that we'll become engaged; every day that wedon't----"

They had come to the Marble Arch. "Shall we hop into a taxi?" heenquired. 

She shook her head. "Let's walk a little farther--down to Hyde ParkCorner. It's easier to say things. "

When he had helped her through the traffic and they were saunteringthrough the Park, she took up the thread of their conversation. "I toldyou yesterday that I was willing to become engaged to you. I'm willingto-day. "

"_Willing!_" he emphasized. "But you don't _want_. The man you love isBraithwaite. What difference has this confession of his made?"

She shrugged her shoulders and looked away, so that he should not seethe quivering of her mouth. "It's made everything impossible. I admirehim more than ever. I admire him for having told the truth and forhaving climbed so far up by his gallantry. But---- I'm no fool, Tabs. Iknow that I couldn't marry him without bringing ridicule upon all of us. Noble notions about human equality don't work in practice. He's what heis--fine of his kind. He's finer than you or I, Tabs, only he's not oursort. He couldn't ever become our sort. If I were as big as he is, Imight not mind. But I'm little and mean; I care so much for caste. Andyet, in spite of that, I want to marry him. I oughtn't to tell you, ofall people. But I can't tell him and I can't tell any one--any one butyou, Tabs. I want him so much that I'm ashamed sometimes. I wouldn'thave my people know it, so you must stick by me. Do at least as much forme as you promised to do for Maisie--stay with me till I can forgethim. " And then she added ruefully, "It isn't much fun for you after allyou'd expected. "

He couldn't afford to let her become emotional. Riders and smartequipages were passing. Several times already they had been recognized. The introduction of Maisie's name supplied him with a loophole. "Mrs. Lockwood rather adds to our complication. If I'm not engaged to you andI see something of her, your father will never understand. If I wereyour father, I wouldn't. To be perfectly frank, he thinks already thatI'm lenient to Maisie only because she's good-looking----"

Terry didn't permit him to get further. "Daddy's probably right. Behonest, Tabs. Would you have stood up for her, if you'd found her fatand forty? Of course you wouldn't. Maisie's a dear, but she's dangerous. She can't help being dangerous; it's half her attraction. By the way, we've been walking entirely in the wrong direction. "

They had come out by Hyde Park Corner. "How do you make that out?" heasked. "I thought we would lunch at the Ritz. "

She began to apologize. "Before I met you this morning, I'd arranged forus to lunch with her--I mean with Maisie. You don't mind, do you? I wasspeaking with her over the phone and she said we must come because shedidn't feel safe. "

"She said that to you, too! She said the same thing to me. But you andI, do we want her?"

Terry nodded, making her eyes wide. "We'll all make each other moresafe. That's what friends are for. I told her we'd be at her house byone. "

"If you told her that----" He was trying to discover whether he wasrelieved or disappointed. With an eagerness which it was hard to accountfor, he was wondering whether Lady Dawn would be there. He pulled outhis watch. "Twelve-forty-five. We can just do it in a taxi. If you toldher that, we'd better stick to your plans. "

He hailed a driver who was passing and helped her into the cab. 

II

As he and Terry chugged their way to Mulberry Tree Court he eyed her, sitting beside him. Would he ever get her? If he did, would she prove tobe one of his really big things? All men must have thought that theirwives would be the really big things in their lives before they marriedthem. How many of them thought that six months after they were married?There was Adair, for instance. But his wife was going to be the bigthing--on that he was determined. 

And yet, it wasn't very big of Terry to be using him as a stalking-horsefor her love for Braithwaite; he felt morally certain that that was whatshe was doing. She hadn't acknowledged to having seen him, but Tabs feltinstinctively that she had seen him. He also felt that within the nexttwenty-four hours she would be seeing him again. It was impossible forhim to accuse her of clandestine meetings of which he had no proof; atthe same time he was distressed by the restraint that was put uponhimself. As things were, anything might happen. When it did happen, itwould happen suddenly and he would be in a measure to blame. 

And here again, in this luncheon with Maisie, he was being made a partyto her policy of secrecy. There could be no doubt that Sir Tobias was inignorance of her continual correspondence with Maisie. 

He looked at her. How near she seemed to him and yet in reality whatmiles away! He could listen to her voice. He could touch her. But hecould not foresee a single one of her future actions. She was remote andstrange and dear. She had offered to become engaged to him, but she wasno part of him. She filled him with discomfort and unrest. For the firsttime he dared to frame his charge against her. It was in almost the samewords as the charge which she herself had brought against Braithwaite. He could love her so that it seemed that if he did not win her, he wouldnever be able to love any other woman; but he could not trust her. Hebegan to question whether she had ever been the woman he had tried tothink her. Perhaps she was only a dummy and his imagination had clothedher with affection. He had attributed to her adorable qualities----

When all was said, how little he really knew about her! His need of herfought with his sense of discretion. It was not dignified that a man ofhis position and years should allow himself to become a shuttlecock inthe hands of her capricious inexperience. Would he ever be able tobridge that gulf of years! Lady Beddow's unhappy criticism haunted him. "He lacks ardor. " Perhaps she was right; experience should marryexperience and inexperience inexperience. 

As they sped down the Brompton Road, they passed the end of HoneymoonSquare. In the enclosed garden among spring flowers children were stillplaying. Scattered here and there, under the thin shade of blossomingtrees, he caught glimpses of white prams with their attendant nurses. The little houses--his own among them--stood all a-row, shoulder toshoulder, looking intensely smiling and habitable. His imaginationreconjured all the midnights they had witnessed--the home-comings undercover of darkness, the secret endearments of lovers, the muffledlaughter. Then he remembered his own dream, which he had planned toshare with her. It was intolerable that it should escape conversion intoreality. 

It seemed little short of marvelous that she should still sit besidehim. She should have vanished with the Square. Had he given her a name, he would have called her his lady in heliotrope, for she was dressed ina heliotrope gown, trimmed round the hem and throat with gray opossumand topped with a little close-fitting turban of color and fur to match. She looked so dainty and subtly haughty, so austere in her virginalbeauty, that it seemed to him he must have wronged her with his silentconjectures. 

"You're more than ordinarily pretty to-day, " he said. 

"Am I? What you mean, I suppose, is that you like my gown. It's a newone. I'm wearing it for the first time, especially for you. "

She turned her laughing face towards him, violet eyes, flushed cheeks, golden hair, white teeth--everything aflash with instant gratitude. Thediscovery of how easily he could command her happiness touched him. 

"Can I make you as merry as all that just by telling you you'rebeautiful?"

She compressed her lips and nodded. "It's not being told. That doesn'tmatter. It's being told by you. "

He felt for the moment that he had recovered her--that he had bridgedthe gulf of the years that divided. Before anything further could besaid, they were halting in Mulberry Tree Court. 

III

On entering the house with the marigold-tinted curtains he had glancedround casually for any signs of Lady Dawn. After Porter had shown himinto the drawing-room Terry had left him to go in search of Maisie. Hewalked over to the tall French-windows and found himself once moregazing out on the garden-rockery with its oval lake, its silent fountainand its toy-boat that never sailed anywhere. He made an effort tocontinue gazing out, for his impulse was to turn and look at theportrait over the fireplace. He tantalized himself by trying to ignoreit. But it was strange the fascination that it held for him. He had thefeeling that behind his back the face had changed from the profileposition in which it had been painted, so that the steady stone-grayeyes were challenging his attention. At last he resisted no longer;walking over to the fireplace, he stood gazing up at it. 

For a moment he tried to pretend to himself that his interest was purelyan art-interest. It was Sargent's brush-work that he was admiring. Thenhe smiled, as much to the portrait as to himself. "Princess CzarinaBolsheviki, " he murmured, "were you really looking at me when my backwas turned? Did you flash your eyes away directly I obeyed your desire?It's the trick of every woman; but you're not like every woman, PrincessCzarina Bolsheviki. "

It seemed to him almost as though the woman on the canvas was about torelax her pose and quiver into life. The longer he looked, the lessaloof she became and the more her serenity trembled. He felt that heknew so much about her--so very much more than he had ever been told. There were experiences of pride and terror which were common to themboth--the pride and terror of appalling heart-hunger. He knew forcertain, as though those painted lips had confessed it, that he was theone man in the world who had the power to make her cry. And yet hedissociated in his mind the woman of the portrait from the woman who hadslipped past him out of the night with the taunting, sideways smile offeminine triumph. The living woman could wound and disappoint; thewoman of the portrait was his friend entirely. 

He was startled out of the mood into which he had fallen by the sound offootsteps crossing the hall. He was not going to be discovered in thatposition by Maisie for a second time. He had barely recovered his placeby the French window, when she and Terry entered laughing. It would havebeen easy to have mistaken them for sisters, with their golden heads andclear complexions. Directly he caught sight of them he guessed by themischief in their eyes that their laughter had been at his expense. Itwas Terry who spoke. "Oh, Tabs, how could you? It was like a littlefrightened boy. "

He glanced from one to the other of them for further enlightenment. "Dowhat? If you'll let me know, I'll tell you. "

"Run away, like you did last night, " Maisie explained. "I've just beendescribing it to Terry. There was I sitting on the couch when Dientered. The first thing she asked me was, 'Who's your new butler?' Iwouldn't tell her. 'He'll be here in a minute, ' I said; 'I'll introducehim to you. ' We waited for about a minute and, when you didn't come, Iwent out into the hall. 'He's gone, Madam, ' Porter told me in her mostMayfair manner. 'Gone!' I exclaimed. 'He can't have gone without sayinggood-by. ' But I was afraid you had, so I went on to the steps and calledafter you. I don't know whether you heard me. When I came back into thedrawing-room, Di was smiling. 'I've read about lordly butlers, ' shesaid, 'but it's the first time I ever met one. ' So there you are! Youcan imagine what a trouble I had to clear myself. I only downed hersuspicions when I assured her that you were on the point of becomingengaged to Terry. "

Instantly Terry's eyes sought his; the laughter died out of them. Heshared her annoyance that Lady Dawn should have received this piece ofinformation--Lady Dawn of all persons. He wasn't engaged to Terry. Hewas a long way from being engaged to her--perhaps further at this momentthan since his return. 

The silence that followed made Maisie aware that she had been guilty ofa mistake. He suspected that she had intended to be guilty of it fromthe start. Nevertheless, she played the part of innocence, making hercornflower eyes eloquent with apology. "Oh, I'm afraid I've put my footin it. But you are almost engaged, aren't you?"

Tabs laughed good-humoredly. "It's all right, Mrs. Lockwood. You didn'tmean to, but you've paid me back in more than my own coin. "

Porter relieved the tension at that moment by announcing that lunch wasserved. 

When they had taken their seats in the front-room, overlooking themake-believe village-green, Terry surprised them by saying carelessly, "Oh, Maisie, you remember General Braithwaite whom we nursed in ourhospital?"

Maisie looked up sharply, trying to warn her that Porter was stillpresent. "Of course I remember him, " she said. "Since then we've bothmet him a hundred times. I think Lord Taborley would like some bread, Porter. "

But Terry wasn't to be deterred. She seemed to be taking a perversedelight in introducing the one subject on which it would have been mostfitting for her to have remained silent. "Since Tabs came back we'vefound out all about the General. You'll never guess who he really is orwas. It's difficult to say whether he is or was, now that he'sdemobilized. "

Tabs recognized the blaze of recklessness in her eyes, like the glare oflighted windows after nightfall from which the curtains have beensuddenly thrown back. He had seen that look in her eyes at the huntwhen, in disobedience to shouted warnings, she had looked back acrossher shoulder challengingly before taking an audacious jump. There was inher expression the fear of the thing she was about to do and the panicof determination to get it done. He attempted to turn her aside from thedanger by slipping in quietly, "I don't think I'd discuss the General atthis moment. "

"At this moment!" she flashed back with a scared smile. The sound of herown voice seemed to clap spurs to her excitement. "Why not at thismoment, dear Tabs? Everything comes out sooner or later. If there'sgoing to be any spreading of gossip, one takes the sting out of it bybeing the first to spread it. Besides, you oughtn't to mind. You oughtto feel most frightfully bucked. "

"Nevertheless, I don't think I'd say it. "

Then he held his breath for, paying no heed to him, she had turned toMaisie. "You mustn't laugh, but it's too good to keep to oneself. Before he was a General, what do you think he did for a living? He usedto clean Lord Taborley's boots. You don't believe it, but it's a fact. Daddy's terribly grim with me over it. Of course it was _infra dig_ togo footing all over town with your best friend's valet. But how was I toknow that he'd been that? Daddy says I ought to have sensed it, if I'dhad any sort of a social instinct. But here's the funniest thing of all, the way we made the discovery. I'd invited him to dine at our house onthe very night that Tabs was Daddy's guest. I'll never forget yourfaces, Tabs, when Daddy introduced the two of you. " She commenced topantomime the scene with forced gayety; then she pretended to becomeaware for the first time that they weren't joining in her laughter. 

"What's wrong? You look as solemn as a funeral. Don't you find itamusing?"

Porter was leaving the room. Maisie waited till the door had closed. Then, "You didn't intend it to be amusing. Why on earth did you say allthis before her?"

Under the rebuke Terry's face flushed defiance. She was near to tears, but she contrived to go on smiling. "When I want all the world to knowanything that's private, I mention it before servants. It always works. "

"But----" Maisie was at a loss to find a motive for such indiscretion. She glanced helplessly at Tabs. "But, " she objected, "surely you don'twant all the world to know about this, Terry? You and the General havebeen such good pals, and---- I have to say it, even though LordTaborley is present: there were a great number of your friends who wererather afraid----"

"Then they won't have to be afraid any longer, " Terry cut in with icysweetness. "When it's reported to the General that I've told this story, he won't have to be rather afraid either. It'll set all his doubts atrest. "

Tabs had sat puzzled and horrified while she had been talking. Everything that he could remember about her was gentle; it wasn't likeher to be cruel. Now at last he realized that it was for his sake thatshe was being cruel--far more cruel to herself than to any one else. Shehad so little faith in her strength to break with Braithwaite that shewas building up a protective wall of contempt by the spread of thisdamaging story. If Braithwaite heard it, she might well hope to rousehis hatred and save herself further effort. 

From across the table her eyes sought his in appeal; his answered herswith intuitive comprehension. But his mind was stunned with apprehensionat the discovery that her passion for this man meant so much that hishate would be a lighter burden than his love. 

Maisie turned to Tabs with veiled disdain. "I suppose it was you whotold her this, Lord Taborley?"

He paid her scant attention and continued looking at Terry. "On thecontrary. " He spoke with unruffled urbanity. "It was GeneralBraithwaite--Steely Jack as he was nicknamed in the Army. He never lostan inch of trench, so they say. Like your own first husband, Mrs. Lockwood, he's most to be feared when every one else would have given uphoping. Like myself, though he doesn't know it, he's a round-the-cornerperson. Curious, Terry, that you should have attracted tworound-the-corner admirers! It makes one almost believe that you're around-the-corner person yourself. "

He had said it without consciousness of magnanimity. There was nothingmagnanimous about stating the truth according to his code of honor. Hewas seeing the bleak look that would come into Braithwaite's face shouldhe hear of this happening. He was wondering whether Braithwaitepossessed the insight into feminine strategy not to take offense, but tointerpret it as surrender. 

Terry was speaking again. "My dear Maisie, if ever you get to know LordTaborley, you'll learn to have a better opinion of him. He plays withall his cards on the table. I think most men play like that. It's wewomen who cheat and carry spare aces and revoke when the game's goingagainst us. " Then came her amazing burst of frankness, "Like you didwhen, to suit your own purpose, you pretended that we were on the pointof becoming engaged. Like I did when I told that story just now aboutSteely Jack. And again like you've done all along in your dealings withAdair. Why, even now, when you're ready to give him up, you can't playthe cards that are on the table; you have to try to borrow Lord Taborleyfrom me. Don't get angry. I'm not accusing you especially. We women areall the same; there's not one of us who can stick to the rules of thegame. " Her glance shifted to Tabs. "You used to think that I was theexception. You see, I'm not. The wonder is that men can even pretend torespect us. "

Long after she had finished and the conversation had taken a new turn, she went on gazing at him, raising and lowering her eyes as she ate herlunch, begging him to understand. 

"You're wrong, Terry. " In her capacity as hostess, Maisie was making anattempt to get away from personalities. She was too convicted by whathad been said to consider it wise to defend herself. "You're wrong. Mendon't want to respect us. They love us for having faults that theywouldn't tolerate in themselves. They encourage us to cultivate them. Itflatters their integrity to discover our dishonesties. They like tobelieve that we're cowards. They don't expect us to tell the truth. Theyalmost resent our having a sense of honor. The woman who cheats at everyturn and then cries in their arms when she's found out, is the kind ofwoman who always has a man to take care of her. Look at my sister, LadyDawn. She's never been known to cry. She's missed everything in lifethrough being almost repellently honorable. "

In the discussion that followed Tabs took no part, though he was oftenappealed to for an opinion. As he listened to their modulated flow ofvoices, their refined and gentle intonations, their evasive, slylyuttered words, he began to have an understanding of what was takingplace. It was something primitive--the oldest of all battles. Neitherof them wanted him, but each was prompted to covet the pretense of hispossession. Their hunting instincts were aroused. He had taken on asudden value in their eyes because each had discovered that the otherwas in pursuit of him. 

His thoughts went back to Lady Dawn--to her pale aloofness. She wasn'tlike this--she was different from all other women. It was ridiculousthat he should be so sure that she was different when his only proof wasa portrait, quite certainly idealized. He began to argue with himselfagain as to whether he ought to seek her out and endanger her serenityby telling her about Lord Dawn. It would be useless to confide suchintentions to Maisie. He would obtain no help from her. She couldconceive of no sympathy between a man and woman into which sex did notenter. The thought of sex in connection with Lady Dawn seemed animpertinence. 

The discussion went on. Luncheon was at an end. Coffee had been served. Cigarettes were being lighted. Again and again he was referred to. Didhe think this and didn't he agree to that? Wasn't this true of the wayin which men regarded women? Their differences of opinion seemed sotrivial. Their views so immature and amateurish. He watched them withcurious, brooding attention. They were so nobly tender in their outwardforms. He appreciated the grace of their gestures, the fine-bonedsmallness of their bodies, the delicacy of their molding, the tendrilthinness of their fingers, the sagacity of their tiny aristocraticheads, the seduction of their soft red mouths, the poetry of the fringeof golden lashes in which the pathos of their eyes hung enmeshed--theirintrusive, penetrating frailty, which supplicated, denounced andastounded. They were so weak and yet so strong. A man could crush themwith one arm. But they could slay a man's soul with their sweetness. They were equipped in every detail by their pale perfection to quickenand to disappoint. To disappoint! That was what they had been trying topersuade him for the past half-hour--that they were Nature's traps, cunningly contrived and baited. _The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!_Their self-traductions were undermining his faith in all sacredness. 

In the silence of his brain he fought--fought against disillusion, claiming exemption for at least one woman from these sweepingdenunciations--the woman in the portrait. 

A man had been passing and repassing the windows, cut into triangles bythe looped back, marigold-tinted curtains. At first he had mistaken himfor a different man each time he had passed. Then the lazy certainty hadgrown up within him that it was always the same man. A man who wantedsomething--wanted something that was in that house. It wasn't possibleto make out his features. He wore a morning-coat and was top-hatted. Theswing of his carriage was indefinitely familiar. 

And now he had vanished--lost courage, lost patience, given up hisquest, perhaps. Through the triangular gaps in the panes thevillage-green showed untraversed, sunlit, tranquil, garnished. 

Without knocking Porter entered, looking worried. 

Maisie broke off from her conversation long enough to say, "A littlelater, Porter. We're not finished. "

She was resuming, when Porter again interrupted. "It isn't that, Madam. It isn't----"

"Then what is it?"

With an elaborate air of caution Porter closed the door and set her backagainst it. "I've told him that it's no good. That you won't see him, Madam. "

"Of course not. That's quite right. " Maisie bestowed her approval withrapid tolerance. "I can't see any one at present. " Then, as anafter-thought, "By the way, who is it?"

It was then that Porter let fall her bomb. "It's no good my telling him. He won't go away. " Her firmness crumbled. She bleated in a dramaticsurrender to distress. The three who heard her caught the commotion ofher alarm and waited breathless. Her explanation came at last. "It's Mr. Easterday. " The moment she had said it, she turned and fled. 

The door had scarcely closed, when Maisie rose from her chair and stoodswaying. She sank back, closing her eyes and pressing her hands againsther breast. The mask of placidity had been wrenched from her face, leaving it blanched with the conflict between yearning, temptation andloneliness. 

"Adair!" she moaned. "My God, I daren't trust myself!"

Unclosing her eyes, she gazed burningly at Tabs. 

"I was honest in what I promised. I do want to live as though Reggieweren't dead. How did you put it? As though he were round the corner. Asthough he were truly coming back. "

In the silence that followed she stifled a sob, realizing that it wasn'tTabs who was the obstacle. Turning hysterically to Terry, she laid holdof both her hands. "I can't do it--_can't, can't_ by myself. I can onlydo it if you'll tell Lord Taborley to help me. "

IV

At a nod from Terry he left the table. In the hall he found an odd sightwaiting for him. He had to look twice to make certain that this was theAdair Easterday whom he had known, and not a strayed and beflusteredwedding-guest. 

The man before him was worried to distraction. He had the unhappy, panic-stricken eyes of an over-driven bullock that scents theslaughterhouse. And yet his dress was immaculate; he was tailored andlaundered as though for an occasion of joy. Everything that he wore wasdiscreetly festive, from the lavender gloves and shiny topper to thestriped trousers and canvas spats. One would have said that he was acaricature of George Grossmith on his way to a garden-party. 

But he was hot--terribly hot; far more hot than he had any excuse forbeing in brisk spring weather. There were beads of perspiration on hisforehead; his face was congested with excitement. To lend the touch ofhumor, which always lurks behind other people's tragedies, he held histop-hat by the brim in his right hand, as though he were taking acollection, while from his left, like a feather-duster, trailed anenormous bunch of roses. He was a short man in the late thirties, red-headed and inclined to be podgy. He was not built to express poeticpassions--how many of us are, if it comes to that?--or to sustain theironslaught with dignity. Emotion seemed to have bloated him with unshedtears. There was nothing noble in his distress--only a farcicalappearance of wretchedness. 

As Tabs crossed the hall to the front-door, just inside of which Adairwas standing, he felt an undeserved compassion for him--the kind ofcompassion one feels for a clumsy dog, which is always getting underpeople's feet. At the same time he couldn't help marveling that thereshould be two women at the same time in the world who were willing tocompete for such a man's affections. 

"I happened to be lunching here, " Tabs commenced conventionally. But healtered his tactics promptly. In the presence of his friend'sself-advertised misery nothing but the briefest truth seemed adequate. 

"Old man, it's no good. She won't see you. She doesn't want you. "Forgetting his sense of justice, he placed his hand affectionately onAdair's shoulder. 

Adair stared in a full-blown way and nodded. "She never did want me. "

He passed no comment on this unforeseen meeting in the little house withthe marigold-tinted curtains. He manifested no resentment against thisfamiliar angel who had been deputed to bar the gates of Eden to hisapproaches. He was incapable of surprise. He was obsessed by thesolitary idea of his own forlornness. "I knew it. She never did wantme. " And then, in a rush of self-pity, "No one ever wanted me. "

"Except Phyllis, " Tabs suggested. 

Adair appeared not to have heard. He stood like a living statue, histop-hat extended, his bunch of roses dangling--the picture of idioticfutility. Genuine emotion, however mean its origin, always has its grandmoments. Tabs forgot the silly beginnings of this upset and the endlesstroubles it had caused. All he saw was a typical ragamuffin of humanityin the grip of the policeman, Nemesis. Adair had been caught trying todo what thousands of other ragamuffins achieved daily with success. Hehad been arrested red-handed in the act of stealing forbidden happiness. It was his first offense. He was inexpert and had bungled. He hadbungled because, while assuming the rôle of roguery, he had remained atheart an honest man. Now that he was caught, he took the exposure of hisdishonesty too seriously. 

Tabs had almost forgotten that he had been the last to speak, when Adairrepeated his exact words, "Except Phyllis!" And then, "Poor kid! She, too, is unhappy. "

Through the marshy obscurities of his humiliation his conscience wasbuilding a path. With his two hands he crushed his topper back onto hishead. The act had the vehemence of decision. In the doing of it hedropped the roses to the floor. There they lay forgotten--so forgottenthat he placed his foot on them without noticing. 

"Home! Best be going home, " he muttered. 

Without further explanation, he drew back the latch and let himself outinto the sunlit Court. Delaying long enough to pick up his hat and cane, Tabs followed. 

Adair gave no sign of recognition as he caught up with him. Failing tohail a taxi, they boarded a bus. Tabs paid the fares. Adair sat likeNapoleon after Waterloo, taking no notice of anything. It was theintensity of his thoughts that kept him silent--not moroseness. 

They had reached Clapham Common and had come to his garden-gate, beforehe acknowledged Tabs' presence. 

"I was a fool. I deserved it, " he said sadly. "It's ended in exactly theway that any sane man would have expected. "

Kicking the gate open, he passed up the path. From the Common Tabswatched him, till he was safely within the house and the door had shut. 

As he turned away, he scarcely knew whether to laugh or feel vexed. Themisfortunes of others can always be traced to folly; it is only our ownmisfortunes that are never deserved and never anything less than august. If Adair's love-affair had appeared ridiculous in his eyes, probably hisown would afford materials for jest to some one else. 

He couldn't forget the top-hat and the trampled roses. Theineffectualness of all passion loomed large. It might have its value asan educative process, but what a waste of energy! For the moment he drewno distinction between Adair's guilty hankering after something whichwas forbidden and his own honorable love for Terry. The end of allpassion was futility. 

Then he laughed, for in imagination he saw the world as a crestfallencaricature of George Grossmith, top-hatted and bespatted, wending itsunfestive way through the centuries to an eternal garden-party, fromwhich Adam and his lineage were forever debarred. 

V

His exit from Mulberry Tree Court had been so hurried that he had had notime to make arrangements with Terry. 

He had no sooner knocked than the door was opened by Maisie. He wasslightly embarrassed at being brought face to face with her thussuddenly after the last scene that they had shared. He entered in atentative manner, only just crossing the threshold, as though he had notmuch time to spare. 

"I called in, " he apologized, "because I thought you'd like to know whathappened--and to fetch Terry. "

"Of course. " She spoke with a cheerfulness that astonished him. "I wasexpecting you. " With that she led the way across the hall to thedrawing-room. 

Carrying his hat, he followed. He clung to his hat purposely; it wouldserve as a reminder that he had not come to stay long. She was on thepoint of seating herself, when she spotted it. "Oh, how rude of me!" Inthe twinkling of an eye she had deprived him of it and vanished. "Captured once more!" he thought. 

During the few seconds that she was gone, he looked about him. Everything was as it had been yesterday. A companionable fire glowed inthe grate. On a table beside the couch tea was spread. Even asyesterday, the nearest chair to the couch was at least six feet away, making it necessary for any one who did not wish to appear boorish toshare the couch with her. There was something else that he had noticedon entering: while he had been away she had made a complete change oftoilet. She was now dressed in a filmy gown of emerald green, withshoes, stockings and buckles to match. It was a gown so _chic_ that, hadhe been a woman, he would have guessed at once that it was the latestfrom Paquin's. Inasmuch as he was a man, his sole comment was, "Pluckylittle thorough-bred! You don't catch her owning that she's down. " Theemerald shade brought out all the values of her coloring, the faint roseof her complexion, the daffodil gold of her flaxen hair. He had expectedto be bored by a Magdalene repentant; instead he had found himselfconfronted by a challenging young Diana. His admiration went out to herfor her courage. 

Having come back and resettled herself on the couch, she smiled up athim through flickering lashes. "A nice frock, don't you think? Nothinglike a new frock after a knock-out for restoring your self-respect. "

"It's a charming frock. Where's Terry?"

She clasped her small hands about her knees, leaning her head far backso that her eyes glinted up at his languidly. Perhaps it was necessaryto do that in order to see him properly. He was still standing. And yether attitude served another purpose; it called attention to the firmyoung lines of her bust and throat, and to the voluptuous curve of herlips, parted in patient expectancy. 

"Terry!" Her voice sounded drowsy. "I forgot. I ought to have given youher message. She couldn't stop. She had another engagement. "

"An engagement!" He was dumbfounded. "That's strange! She never saidanything---- Are you sure she didn't invent it?"

"Certain. " Maisie sat up fully awake now. "Quite positive. But she hadmade up her mind not to keep it till, through no fault of yours, yougave her the chance. You don't want to believe that; it sounds as thoughshe had cheated. You don't know much about women, Lord Taborley. Youdon't know because you refuse to learn. You're determined, in the faceof every proof to the contrary, to live and die in the faith that we'reangels. " She shook her finger at him. He was amused to discover that hewas being scolded. "Angels! We're far from it. We're very much like youmen, with this difference, that we're cowards. What you need--this maysound entirely wrong--is a good sensible woman to take you in hand, andgive you a run for your money, and teach you your own value. Why, withyour position and charm----"

"You must excuse my interrupting. Of course it all depends on what youmean by a run for my money. But are there many good and sensible womenwho are game for an adventure of that sort?"

"Heaps of them, " she assured him, imitating his mock seriousness. "Themore outwardly good and sensible, the more inwardly they're willing. "

"Humph!" He pretended to be pondering this gem of information. And then, "But you have to own, Mrs. Lockwood, that Terry's not----"

She blocked his protest with a gay little laugh. "I make no exceptions. Terry's exactly like the rest of us--younger and more innocent looking, no doubt, but just as imperfect. As regards this engagement of hers, shebreathed no word of it until you had gone. Then she began to flirt withthe idea that she might be able to keep it. At last she couldn't resistthe temptation any longer. Out she came with it, that she must be going. I'd lay a wager I could name the person with whom----"

"You'd lose your wager. "

"I think not. " She met the threatened tempest in his eyes with calmness. 

"Would you give a name to this person?"

"Where's the good?" She shrugged her dainty shoulders. "We both know it?Steely Jack. Isn't that what you call him?"

Instantly she leant forward. Her whole instinct was to touch him. Shehadn't intended to hurt him like that. He looked so defiant, and gauntand deserted--such a huge, scarred boy of a man. He reminded her of oneof those early war-posters, in which a solitary figure was depicted, knee-deep in barbed wire, head bandaged, hurling the last of his bombs. 

"Please don't be angry, " she pleaded. "I was clumsy; but I was trying tohelp. When you helped me yesterday, you too were clumsy. You can't puton a new frock, worse luck, the way I've done, to restore yourself-respect. But I do wish you'd buy a new something--a new race-horseor a new car--I don't care what as long as it would make you swank. Alittle swanking would do you all the good in the world; it would keepTerry from knowing how much you care. Terry's not half good enough foryou; one day you'll acknowledge it. Still, if you really do think youwant her, you can bring her to heel any moment by putting on anindifferent air. Look how jealously she flared up at me at lunch. Itmakes a woman furious to see her rejections picked up as treasures byanother woman. The only reason why Terry brought you here to-day was tosee for herself just how deep an impression we'd made on each other. "

At last she mustered the courage to touch him. Reaching out, she tookhis hand and drew him to her. He stood against her knees, looking down. 

Her voice was tender. "Some one had to say these things to you, just asyou had to say things to me that weren't altogether pleasant. So whyshouldn't I to you? After all, we're both in the same box, and the boxis labeled NOT WANTED. It pains me to see a man like you, wastinghimself on a girl who hasn't the sense to appreciate what he'soffering. " She raised her eyes to his with a slow smile. "Don't mistakeme, Lord Taborley, I'm not trying to secure what you're offering formyself. "

He began to see the drift of her argument. Before he could formulate it, she herself had put it into words. "Can't we do a little missionarywork, you and I, by appreciating each other just a little?"

Flinging prejudices to the winds, he took a place beside her on thecouch. Why shouldn't he? Why should he go on conserving himself soscrupulously for a girl who didn't value his loyalty?

"I should consider it a privilege to be appreciated by you, " he saidgravely. "But let's start properly. How about dinner at the Berkeley?After that, if you felt like it, we could do a theatre. Would that suityou?"

 * * * * *

It was close on midnight when they returned to Mulberry Tree Court. Notuntil he was handing her out of the taxi and Porter was standing framedin the open doorway, did he remember that he'd imparted none of hisimportant news concerning Adair. 

"About Adair----" he commenced. "Or shall I put him off till to-morrow?"

"Till forever. " As her feet touched the pavement, she swung around onhim with laughter. They had been very happy in the last six hours. Shepressed close against him. He caught the sparkle of her eyes as hestooped above her and the faint, sweet fragrance of her hair. She restedan ungloved hand on his arm. It looked dim like a large white moth thathad settled there. 

"I have few principles to guide me, " she whispered, "but the few that Ihave I observe. I never dig up my dead and I never botanize on thegraves of the past. Good-night. Merry dreams to you, Lord Taborley. "

With the suddenness of a phantom she went from him. There were a brieffew seconds while he heard the ripple of her laughter and the rustlingof her dress. Then the door closed. Save for the lamps of the waitingtaxi night was again eventless and dark. 

VI

That evening was the first of many such adventures. His tall limpingfigure became a familiar sight in Mulberry Tree Court. 

Very early in their friendship he took her advice and delighted her bypurchasing a smart two-seater runabout which he drove himself. Sometimesit was at her door shortly after breakfast to transport her to wheresaddle-horses were waiting in the Park. Sometimes it would turn up aboutlunch-time and stand impatiently chugging while she changed into sport'sclothes, after which it would dash away with her, humming contentedly, into the depths of the country. It was the magic-carpet which obeyed allher desires. After war-days, with their petrol shortages and restrictedtravel, it seemed more than ordinarily magic. It made emphatic asnothing else could have done, the freedom and serenity which peace hadrestored. The very fleetness of its obedience prompted her to urge Tabsto take her farther and ever farther afield. There were evenings whenthey dined within sight of the sea beneath the red roofs of Rye andstarted back for London across the Sussex downs, driving straight intothe eye of the sunset. There were afternoons when they drifted over theChiltern hills to where the spires and domes of Oxford rise, placid asmasts of a sunken ship in an encroaching sea of greenness. 

But it was most frequently nearing midnight when the quiet of thesecluded Court was wakened by the merry buzzing of the engine. At firstit would come from far away, drowsily like the song of a belated bee. Then it would gather in volume and grow more lively, till it pantedround the little village-green and quavered into silence in front ofMaisie's door. Porter, with the gold light of the hall behind her, wouldalways be there on the threshold to receive her mistress. It wasdifficult to guess what Porter thought. There were impromptu jaunts totheaters and dances. Porter had seen many gay beginnings and tearfulendings. Her face was immobile and respectful at whatever hour hecalled. 

It was a curious friendship that had developed between them--afriendship which lived from hand to mouth, which had the appearance ofbeing more than a friendship, in which nothing was premeditated. Nothingcould be premeditated so far as he was concerned. Terry had first callon all his leisure--not that she availed herself of it very often;nevertheless, he held himself in readiness to break every engagementfor her. Maisie was his consolation prize when Terry had failed. Maisiewas not deceived as to the spare-man place that she held in hisaffections. She was painfully aware that at any moment their friendshipmight end as abruptly as it had started. On either side it was based ona common need for kindness, a common tenderness and a common desire forprotection from loneliness. In a sense they were each a substitute forsomething postponed and more satisfying. While he was making up to herfor the loss of Adair, she was trying to save him from the rashness ofcommitting himself too fatally to Terry. They were altruists, actuatedby self-interested motives. 

And yet it was a friendship not untinged by enmity. His enmity wasawakened when she became too possessive in the demands which she madeand especially when she let fall criticisms, however mild, concerningTerry. These occurrences set him thinking of the other casuals who hadventured on her doorstep, not meaning to stay, and had ended by hangingup their hats in her hall. Her enmity was roused by the courteouscircumspection of his behavior. He never admitted her to the privacy ofhis inmost thoughts. He could be gay and gallant and bountifullygenerous, but he never permitted her to peep beneath the surface. Headdressed her invariably as Mrs. Lockwood. The use of her surname heldher at arm's length. She longed most frightfully to hear him call her bythe name that was less safe. She denied to herself that she wanted himto make love to her; at the same time she was disappointed at thepersistency with which he held her off. She liked to believe that, if hehad made love to her, she would have rebuffed him. She rehearsed manytimes the indignant words with which she would have set him in hisplace; she would have reminded him that it was for Reggie Pollock shewas waiting--as though he were not dead, but only round the corner. Toher chagrin Tabs never gave her the least incentive to employ them. 

He saw her never more and frequently less than once a day. There was aweek at a stretch when he saw nothing of her. She bridged these tediousintervals of expecting by the length of her telephone conversations. Whenever he stayed away for long, she tortured herself with suspicionsthat his courtship of Terry had begun to prosper. If he returneddebonair and smiling, she felt confirmed in these suspicions. He wasmost dear to her when he returned in an under-mood of distress. She knewthen that she was necessary; to be necessary was the passion of herheart. Then she would become gay and tender and mothering--an altogethersweeter, gentler and more self-effacing Maisie. 

Whither were they drifting--toward marriage or only toward infatuation?If you had asked Tabs, he would have replied promptly, "Toward neither. "He had promised to tide her over the dull spots. She had advised him totake a course of education in his own value in order that he mightincrease his worth to Terry. She had told him that he ought to let somegood sensible woman take him in hand and give him a run for his money. They had accepted each other at their word--that was all. 

At the same time he knew that that was not all. He knew that if therewas one thing more irritating to her than being addressed as Mrs. Lockwood, it was his way of treating her as if she were good andsensible. Most women would feel affronted at hearing themselves spokenof as anything other than sensible and good. Good and sensible women arethe pillars of society, but they are not usually regarded as attractivecompanions for joyous excursions in two-seater runabouts. 

Neither of them was entirely insensitive to the conjectures that theirsudden intimacy had given rise to in the minds of onlookers. They wereboth too well-known and were seen together in too many different placesto avoid the breath of gossip--even of scandal. Men were scarce afterthe wholesale butchery of the war, especially bachelors of LordTaborley's class. Had he only had the conceit to know it, he hadreturned to London a strong favorite for the season's matrimonialsweepstakes. More than one anxious mother of unappropriated daughtershad set him down for preference on her list of eligibles. Wheninvitations poured in on him and were politely regretted, there wasconsternation and puzzlement. The puzzlement vanished when theexplanation was whispered across a hundred dinner-tables, "Haven't youheard? It's Maisie Lockwood. "

Then would follow details of how they had been seen at sundry theaters, at half-a-dozen fashionable hotels and riding together in the Park. "She mounted on one of Lord Taborley's horses of course. "

"It's quite a case, " people said. "If he doesn't mean matrimony, itwould be decent to exercise more discretion. There used to be some talkof Terry Beddow; that's completely ended. Queer the women men fall for, even the quietest of them! No one's sane any longer. Had three husbandsalready, hasn't she? Quite a crowd! One would scarcely have supposedthat an exclusive chap like Taborley would have joined in the queue tomake a fourth. And he could have had almost any girl for the asking. There's never any telling. "

Veiled references began to appear in the society columns; but not soveiled that they could not be recognized. "A romance is developingbetween a noble lord, who served in the ranks during the war, and avivacious beauty, three times widowed, well-known in fashionablecircles, etc. " One paper published a photograph of them riding side byside. After that sceptics who had not seen for themselves, werepersuaded. 

It was a mad world--a world in which it was not safe to be censorious. The lid was off the conventions. Every one was shouting forhappiness--happiness at all costs. When they could not get it for theasking, they were taking it without thought of law or penalties. Therewere few who could afford to sit in judgment and many who preferred tolaugh. The day of authority was over. Traditions were no longerrespected. While the war was on, men and women had been drilled intodumb acquiescence; now that the drilling was abolished, they had becomea mob, avid, leaderless and uproarious. 

Tabs came to realize that he was not alone in his lost sense ofdirection. The right to live had been restored, but neither individualsnor nations were sure what they wanted to do with it. After having beenas one in their sacrificial certainty, they had arrived at a cross-roadswhere there was no policeman to take charge. They had broken up intolittle groups, gathered about their own vociferous stump-orators. Theresult was babel. Of orators there were a plenty. They abused oneanother across the Irish Sea. They tried to shout one another downacross the Atlantic Ocean. But the hammer-head men of righteousness weregone. After the apocalyptic splendor of mailed knights of Christcharging stern-faced down to Armageddon, the results of victory had beenconsigned to the weakling care of a race of talkers. 

And yet there was music and laughter. Spring rushed on. Feet that hadmarched, now moved in the rhythm of the dance. Theaters were crowded. Jazz-bands clashed. There were endless processions. Youth beckoned. Chestnut bloom grew white and fell in flurries. Women were no lessbeautiful. The sun shone thunderously. 

If Tabs were foolish, which he did not concede, all the world was hiscompanion in foolishness. Blindly and gropingly he was still going insearch of his kingdom. He ignored the gossip which his championship ofMaisie had called forth. He despised it. It made him the morecompassionate toward her--the more determined to help her to weatherthe storm. Well-meaning friends undertook to warn him. "She's mostbeautiful and charming. And she's Lady Dawn's sister, of course. But----Well, to put it frankly, a woman who's been married three timesmight just as well never have been married at all. Looks as though she'donly squandered her money in rising to the nicety of a marriage-license. I hope you don't mean to marry her, old chap, because she's not yoursort. "

When Tabs went to the trouble of assuring these well-wishers that he didnot intend to marry her and that she was his sort, they slipped theirtongues into their cheeks and opened their eyes wide, "Oh, so that's theway of it!"

Maisie reported to him similar experiences. "So you see how I'mregarded, as though I were no better than I should be. And I'm young andI've done nothing wrong. If it wasn't for your friendship, I should betempted----"

"But you have my friendship!" he assured her. 

He tried to rise superior to this petty talk of scandal-mongers, but itwas not always possible when he remembered Terry. 

VII

He met Terry as often as he could contrive, but he no longer forcedhimself upon her. He could effect nothing so long as her infatuation forBraithwaite lasted. 

Now that Sir Tobias had lost faith in him as a lover, his opportunitiesfor meeting her became more rare. When Sir Tobias lost faith in any one, he made no attempt to disguise it. In the case of Tabs, he let him knowit with a fine air of magnanimity, as though he were doing him akindness. His frankness took the form of communicating some newdisparaging criticism, astutely attributed to Lady Beddow, every time hewas paid a visit. 

Having separated Tabs from Terry by carrying him off to his library onone pretext or another, he would carefully close the door and commence, "You men who've seen service are all unbalanced; it would be unfair tohold any of you responsible. You're no exception, my dear fellow, thoughyou probably don't notice it in yourself. As Lady Beddow was saying tome this morning, 'Poor Lord Taborley, he has a rambling mind. Mostlikely it's a species of shell-shock. There's a queer look comes intohis eyes. It's not always there. It's a look as if he were haunted. Youought to speak to him, Tobias--you're his oldest friend--and advise himto see a specialist. It's lucky we found his weakness out before thingsbetween him and Terry went too far. '"

Or he would say, "Lady Beddow and I were talking about you, my dearfellow. You know she's very fond of you. She loved your mother beforeyou. 'The little big lady from America, ' she used to call her. She'snaturally very much upset at the way in which you're getting yourselftalked about. Unfortunately she holds me partly responsible for havinginduced you to visit this Maisie woman. 'You ought to have known himbetter, ' she says. 'There's an immoral streak in him--an inheritedtaint, which I, for one, always suspected. ' She was wondering whetheryou have any knowledge of there having been insanity in your family. "

After having invented such discomforting surmises and given his wife thecredit for them, the old gentleman would blink his crafty eyes and resthis hand affectionately on Tabs' arm. At the end of each visit he waspressed to call again; but when he called, it was to find himselfshepherded into the library, safely out of reach of Terry, in order thathe might hear his conduct discussed afresh, either directly or byinsinuation. 

He was unable to defend himself without betraying Terry. She maintainedher silence with regard to Braithwaite, refusing to take her parentsinto her confidence. They naturally attributed the hanging fire of theengagement to Tabs, supposing that on the eve of his proposal he hadbeen ensnared in the net of Maisie. In their eyes he cut a shabbyfigure. 

Behind his back Terry came to his defense. She would hear and believe nowrong of him. This only proved to her parents that her heart stillfollowed him. They thought her very brave and became more gloomy intheir accusations. Matters took a serious turn: her health began tofail. When the doctor was summoned, he ascribed the cause to secretworrying and prescribed a complete change. Tabs received no word of thishappening, for Terry had become increasingly shy, so that she createdthe appearance of avoiding him. She quite definitely avoided Maisie. 

There came a day in early June when he went to call on her and wasinformed by the velvet-plush James that Miss Terry was out of London ona visit of undetermined length. When he asked for her address, Jamesshook his head mournfully. She had been ill and was to be spared alldisturbing communications. His orders were that her address was to begiven to nobody. 

"But that order doesn't apply to me, " Tabs urged. 

James became more profoundly agitated. He averted his eyes, while hefiddled with the last button of his plump waistcoat. "I regret to say, to your Lordship most especially. "

"Humph!" Tabs stroked his chin. "Is Sir Tobias at home?"

"Your Lordship would gain nothing by seeing Sir Tobias. "

"You might mention to him that I called. " With that he descended thesteps and climbed into his runabout. 

"Turned away!" he thought. "Turned away from Terry's house!" Then hismind went back to two months ago--the hopes he'd had, his meeting withher at the station, his asking her father for her hand in marriage. Itwas like the old front-line trench, when reënforcements had failed tocome up: there was nothing for it but to dig one's self in and stick itout. 

He had been shown the door with as little ceremony as an intrudingpeddler. 

VIII

From Terry's house he went to Mulberry Tree Court, but the route that hechose was not direct. He drove all over the West End first, throughOxford Street, Bond Street, Piccadilly; then back by way of RegentStreet, swinging to the left through Conduit Street, till he againstruck Bond Street. He doubled and redoubled on his tracks, moving amongcrowds, feeling that he must hear the noise of crowds, yet seeing littleof the sights on which his eyes rested. It had been like this with himbefore, after being in too close contact with calamity. It had been likethis in war-days, when he had returned on brief leaves out of monstrousoffensives to the appalling quiet of a normal world. He hadn't dared tobe alone. He had felt that his sanity depended on his rubbing shoulderswith people. He had been like a child in an empty house, leaning out ofa window to catch the stir of life along the pavements. 

The gayety of the London season was at its height. Khaki was growingrare. Signs of war had almost completely vanished. No one wanted to talkabout it. No one wanted to read about it. Shops had redecorated theirwindows with the necessities and luxuries of civilian requirements. There was a wave of spendthrift extravagance abroad. Every one in thestreets had the look of being out for a good time. The threat oftorturing to-morrows no longer made life haggard. If there was onelesson that the past five years had taught it was that each new day wasa gift from the gods, to be enjoyed separately and drained of everyavailable drop of pleasure. The restraints of duty were indefinitelypostponed. Men and women sauntered in pairs, aimlessly and joyously. Work was the bondage furthest from their thoughts. They seemed aware ofno one but themselves in their ecstasy at being reunited. Racing hadbeen restarted; up and down the gutters newsboys ran shouting thewinners. London was a Tommy on leave, insubordinately, humorously, contagiously happy. 

As he drove, Tabs argued out his problem. From house-top to house-topthe June sky sagged like an azure canopy. Across pavements the afternoonsunshine lay in bars of gold. Flower-sellers stood at intervals alongthe curb, scenting the air with their country nosegays. A lazy breezeruffled drooping flags which had been hung out for the latest festival. Everywhere there were girls in their blowy summer dresses--girls of allkinds and sorts. Single girls, married girls, girls who worked for theirlivings, girls whose business it was to be beautiful, girls who weremerely drudges. There were both pathos and urgency in the sight of them. It was not good that they should live alone. They had wasted their youthtoo long. The great necessity for that waste was ended. Not one of themwas a patch on Maisie. 

If he did not desire Maisie, why did he miss her? Was it that he wouldnot allow himself to desire her? Why did he encourage his passion forTerry--Terry who in her mild and gentle way had become almost insolentlyunappreciative? Wouldn't he be wiser to content himself with the womanwho was within reach rather than----?

He frowned as the truth dawned on him. For the first time he hadacknowledged it. He did love Maisie. Not as he loved Terry, of course;but in a more human way, to the extent of needing her companionship. Hehad made a discovery that amazed himself--a discovery that thousands ofmen had made before him: that it was possible for him to love two womenat the same tune, utterly differently and yet with entire sincerity. Hefelt as lowered in his self-esteem as if he had committed bigamy. He wasdumbfounded at this new twist that his emotions had developed. Withoutconsulting him, they had played a trick on him which foreverdisqualified him for the larger rôle of constant lover. He felt himselfpushed down to almost the level of a philanderer--a philanderer not muchmore august than Adair. The suspicion crossed his mind that, if he couldbelieve himself in love with two women, he couldn't be very mightily inlove with either. 

But he was impatient of delays--worn out with procrastinations. Themagnificent chances of the present were slipping past him. One day hewould be old. "_Now, now, now_, is the appointed time, " throbbed hisengine. Out of the sheer disorganization of his thoughts a desperatescheme took shape. Why should he not go to Maisie and say, "We'reneither of us first in each other's affections. It's a rough-and-tumbleworld! Why be thin-skinned about it? We may become first later. Let'sstop dreaming of kingdoms round the corner and make the best of suchkingdoms as are ours to-day. "

The idea took hold of him with force. It fascinated him. He turned hiscar about. In passing through Mayfair he made a detour to glance atTaborley House. The American Hospital had vacated it. It looked ruinedand forlorn. He tried to picture it as it might appear if Maisie wereits mistress. 

Twenty minutes later he drew up before the retiring little villa withits marigold-tinted curtains. He had by no manner of means decided onhis course of action. He could not have told you what he was going tosay to Maisie. In this as in so many other ways, he believed himselfabnormal. No one had ever told him that ninety-nine out of a hundredmarried men, if they spoke the truth, would have to confess that theyhad been unaware thirty seconds before they proposed that they weregoing to do so; and that the most incredible happening in their liveshad been when, thirty seconds later, they had discovered that not onlyhad they proposed, but that they had been riotously accepted. 

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH

SOME PEOPLE FIND THEIR KINGDOMS

I

He was in the act of shutting off his engine when he heard himselfaccosted. "I beg your pardon, but are you, Mr. Gervis?"

It was a pleasant voice--a man's. Keeping his eyes on what he was doing, Tabs answered in the negative. Then he recalled that Gervis had been thename of Maisie's second husband. "If it's the Gervis who used to livehere, " he indicated the house with a jerk of his head, "I'm afraid youwon't find him. He's been dead these three years--killed at the Front. "

A quiet chuckle greeted this piece of information, followed by a hearty, "Thank the Lord. "

Tabs had finished what he was doing. As he stepped out of the car, hethrew a contemptuous glance at the man who could be so callous. He was aslightly built, fresh-complexioned young fellow of middle height, withamiable gray eyes and a fair, closely-trimmed mustache. He belonged tothe demobilized subaltern type and had the weary, drawn expression ofover-strained nerves that so many young faces had at that time. He wasdressed in a smartly fitting suit of striped navy-blue flannel andcarried himself with the plucky alertness of a highly bred fox-terrier. He had a clean and gallant bearing which it was difficult to reconcilewith the ungenerosity of his last remark. In a neat, unforceful way hewould have been handsome, had it not been for a badly healed scar whichran straight across his forehead, only just escaping his eyes. 

Before Tabs could say anything, he was apologizing. "That soundedrotten. I'm sorry. But you see, I didn't know the chap. It's his wifethat I'm trying to find. She was married to a man named Pollock when Iknew her. I was rather a pal of Pollock's, belonged to the same squadronand was shot down at the same time. I've been a prisoner in Germany. Just got back, in fact. As you'll understand, I'm rather out of touch. Ithought you'd be able to tell me whether she still lived here. "

It was very damping to his ardor at this particular moment to haveMaisie's matrimonial past raked up. Within the next half hour he wouldvery possibly be asking her to be his wife. He wasn't sure that he wasgoing to; but meeting this friend of her first husband on her doorstepdidn't help him to make up his mind. He was no longer unsympathetic tothe young fellow, but he was quite determined that he must be sent abouthis business. 

"As a matter of fact, " he said, "the lady you're in search of does livehere. But she's not Mrs. Gervis any longer. She's married again. She'sMrs. Lockwood now. "

A glint of enmity came into the stranger's eyes. "Then you're Mr. Lockwood, perhaps?"

Tabs answered him with a note of irritation. "I'm not Mr. Lockwood. She's a widow. Lockwood also was killed. But I really don't see why youshould stop me on the pavement to ask so many questions. You can findout everything by ringing the bell. "

"That's right. " The young fellow stroked his mustache. "But I didn'twant to do that until I had made certain. Surely you can see howembarrassing---- And now this third chap's gone West, you say. Poorlittle Maisie, she hasn't had much luck. "

It was difficult to be brusque with a man of his own class, especiallywith a man so genuinely likeable. But he had to get rid of him. Afterhaving nerved himself up to the point of being at least prepared topropose to Maisie, he couldn't contemplate an evening of sharing herwith a stranger and listening to the merits of her first husband. 

"So you're an old friend! Well, I'm afraid she won't be free thisevening. I have an appointment with her. But, if you like, I'll mentionthat I met you and I'll let her know that you'll call--when shall wesay--to-morrow? Perhaps you'd care to give me your name----"

The young man smiled good-naturedly. "I couldn't think of troubling youto that extent. "

"In that case, I'll have to ask you to excuse me. All kinds of luck toyou on your return. It must be rather jolly not to be a prisoner. Goodevening. "

Tabs crossed the pavement and rang the bell. In order that he mightafford no opportunity for further conversation, he stood with his facetowards the door while he waited for it to be opened. He was veryconscious that the stranger had not departed, but was hoveringimmediately in rear of him. 

It was Porter who answered his summons. "I'm sorry, your Lordship, Mrs. Lockwood is out---- No, she didn't leave any word. She's bound to beback shortly---- Why, certainly, if your Lordship has the time. "

While she was closing the front door, he walked across the hall and lethimself into the drawing-room. He went directly over to the emptyfireplace and gazed up at Lady Dawn's portrait. It always seemed tochallenge him--seemed to be trying to say something to him. It wasalmost as though it were his conscience hanging there on the wall. Hehad an idea that it reproached him for his silence with regard to LordDawn. He felt that, were he to do what his instinctive sense of justicehad first urged--go to Lady Dawn and tell her that her husband had caredfor her--the painted face would be no longer turned away and thestone-gray eyes no longer averted. 

He was haunted by the obsession that he would never have any luck tillhe had vindicated the dead man's memory. 

It was Maisie who had prevented him up to now--Maisie with her laughter, her breezy arguments, her short views of life, her contempt forsentiment, her sledge-hammer motto, with which she shattered the past, "I never dig up my dead. " She had made him hesitant about reopening thesubject. Her sister was the most beautiful woman in England. A man neverknows to what boundaries a woman's jealousy spreads. He feared lest, ifhe persisted, she might impute to him less lofty motives than the desireto play fair by a comrade-in-arms who had gone West. 

Something stirred behind him. He swung about and found himself staringinto the face of the stranger who had accosted him on the pavement. 

"Sargent painted it ten years ago, " the stranger said. "She's not asyoung as that now. "

"How did you get in?" Tabs demanded. 

The stranger laughed boyishly. "Not too loud or you'll give the showaway. I followed you. The maid raised no objection. She thought we weretogether--which was exactly what I intended. "

"But what do you want? What right have you here?"

"Want! I know what I want. As to my right, that's problematic. "

He turned his back on Tabs and commenced to move about the room, pickingthings up and examining them with a purposeful curiosity. He showed nofear, yet in all his movements there was a calculated stealth. Tabswatched him in amazement, wondering what he ought to do. If it came tograppling with him, unless he carried fire-arms, there was little doubtas to who would get the better of the contest. The man might be alunatic, a blackmailer, a burglar; by his odd mode of entry, he had laidhimself open to every suspicion. But he looked perfectly normal; and ifhe had been a burglar, he surely would have selected an opportunity whenno other man was present. It was an awkward situation, this being shutup alone in a husbandless woman's house with an unknown intruder. Itseemed to be an occasion for tact rather than the possible fuss ofpolice interference. 

At this moment the stranger made a discovery. 

He had been examining the five silver photograph-frames, each in turn, with close attention. With his back towards Tabs he remarked, "It looksas though she hadn't forgotten him. Five reminders of his homely mug andnot a solitary one of the also-rans! Numbers Two and Three couldn't havemade such a deep impression. " He caught his breath in a nervous shudder. "It's queer. Everything's queer when one's just come back. One's sochanged that he could court his own wife without being recognized. You, too, were out there I should judge by the way you limp. I wonder whetheryou've got over the queerness yet. I haven't had time----"

From in front of the empty fireplace, Tabs interrupted him. "Look here, my dear chap, I don't want to be rude and this isn't my house; butwhat's your game?"

The stranger turned and smiled. His frank gray eyes were amused andfriendly. "Upon my word, I haven't any game. I'm like yourself--justpaying a visit. "

Tabs shook his head and gazed at him fixedly. "It won't do; you knowthat. You're a gentleman. Gentlemen don't get into unprotected women'shouses by your kind of methods. "

"They don't. That's a fact. " He laughed carelessly. "I suppose this iswhat comes of having been a prisoner in Germany. One prefers to beunderhand. "

"Don't you think it's time you stopped fooling?" Tabs spoke in aconversational tone without temper. "There's Mrs. Lockwood to beconsidered; she may be here at any moment. It's no good coming thisreturned prisoner trick; all the prisoners in Germany were returnedshortly after the Armistice. Eight months have elapsed. "

"All right. Have it your own way. "

The stranger ceased to wander and sat himself down at Maisie's end ofthe couch. Pulling out his cigarette-case, he offered it to Tabs. "Havea gasper?---- You don't need to refuse because of Maisie. If she's theMaisie she used to be, she won't object. ---- Well, if you won't, Iwill. "

Tabs noticed that his hand trembled in holding the match. The man was abundle of nerves; he was only maintaining this display of coolness withan effort. Whatever the purpose of his bold intrusion, it was notsocial, as he had pretended. 

"I don't like any man to think me a liar. " The man spoke slowly betweenpuffs at his cigarette. "You think it's all bunkum that I'm fresh out ofGermany, but it isn't. Do you see that?" He ran his finger across thegash in his forehead. "That and the ill-treatment I received in theprison-camps made me go wuzzy. The only fact about myself that I couldremember in all those years was Maisie. So it's natural that I shouldcome to see her first. I wasn't sure of my own identity until a monthago. I suppose I was released at the Armistice, but for seven out of thepast eight months I must have wandered in rags over Central Europe. However, all's well that ends well, and here I am. "

"But you knew that she'd remarried, " Tabs objected suspiciously; "youasked me if I were Gervis. "

"A friend of Pollock's told me that, " he explained. "Gervis wasexcusable. But this Lockwood fellow's the third. It's a bit thick! Shecertainly has been going it. " He looked up suddenly. "I've been doingall the talking. What about yourself?"

Tabs crossed the room and opened one of the long French windows whichled out into the rockery. The golden afternoon had faded into earlyevening and a refreshing coolness was in the air. When he came back, heseated himself at the other end of the couch. "Just to show that there'sno ill-feeling, I'll accept one of your gaspers, if you'll allowme. ----There's nothing for me to explain. My name is Lord Taborley andI'm a friend of Mrs. Lockwood. There's nothing else. "

The stranger leaned forward. His humor left him, revealing his prematurehaggardness. He laid a hand on Tabs' arm and asked a question. "You'refond of her?"

Tabs eyed him in silence, trying to divine what was intended. "At anyrate, you are, " he said kindly; "I see it now. "

"Not fond of her, I'm in love with her. " The man's face softened as hemade the confession. "I was in love with her when she was still the wifeof Pollock. I've been through deep waters. I've had to wait for her likeJacob did for Rachel. I've lost most things--my memory, my health, myvery likeness! but never for five minutes have I lost my love for her. She was the only star in my darkness----" The words fell from him withsomber sincerity. "I don't know whether you understand----"

But Tabs' thoughts had turned inwards. He was living again theenglamored poignancy of the years when Terry had been for him preciselythat--the only star in his darkness. The intensity of the vision waslike a cry of warning rousing his sleeping idealism from its lethargy. His present errand became a treachery to be swept aside by his refoundstrength. He recognized the intruder with new eyes, not as an enemy, butas a comrade--a comrade marooned on the selfsame island of lonelinessand bound to him by the common experience of a kindred adversity. He waslike Crusoe discovering the footprint. Here, quite close to him, was afellow waif who had drunk deep of his own bitter sense of desertion. With a thrill of sympathy, his heart turned to him. 

"The only star in the darkness!" He repeated the stranger's words. "Formost of us there's been one woman who was all of that. If she failsus----" He stifled his pessimism. "When stars fail, one waits for themorning. "

"So you, too, had your woman!"

The stranger smiled and relaxed against the cushions. "Foolish of me!You can't blame me. Twice I've believed that I'd lost her. First therewas Gervis and then this Lockwood. Poor devils, I cry quits on them. Butwhen I found you so at home here, you can guess what I dreaded. And yetyou'll never guess why I followed you into this house. " He lit acigarette and crossed his legs. "I didn't want you to escape me till I'dasked a question---- Has it ever entered your head that Pollock mightnot be dead?"

Tabs started. Then he sat very still. It was the commonplace tone inwhich the question had been asked that froze his blood. It was as thoughthis man had said, "I can bring him back. " For a moment he knew genuinefear--the non-physical fear which the impalpable can awake in thebravest mind. Through the open window the companionable mutter of Londonentered. The normality of everything on which his eyes rested did itsbest to reassure him--the mellow evening sunlight in the friendly room, the flowers in the rockery, the toy-boat on the pond. "I never dig up mydead. " He remembered Maisie's motto. But what if the dead----

He pulled himself together. Pollock not dead! An absurd suggestion!Maisie had changed her name twice since then--a sufficient proof! Thepoor fellow was demented. Everything that he had done bore the hall-markof insanity. He had owned that he had been deranged to within a monthago. Everything that he had said might be quite true. He probably hadbeen the dead man's friend and in love with Maisie at the time of herfirst marriage. The misfortunes that had befallen him had exaggeratedhis love into mania--a mania which the news of Gervis and then ofLockwood had rendered active. He felt an immense compassion for the man. There, save for the grace of God, sat himself. But what was to be done?Already Maisie was overdue. Not a second could be wasted. He must humorhim and get him out of the house, if a scene was to be prevented. 

And all the time the stranger had been watching him--following histhoughts, no doubt. He spoke again. "Don't you agree with me? It wouldbe damned awkward if Pollock came back. "

Tabs forced a smile. "I'm not so sure that I do. She never loved any onebut her first husband. She's told me so. The other two---- I don'tbelieve she herself knows how they happened. They were soldiers. Theyweren't long for this world. She didn't want to do them out ofanything. " He glanced at his watch. "By Jove, and I've not dined yet!I'm afraid I must be off. How about you? I'd be awfully glad if you'dtake dinner with me. "

The man jumped to his feet, so that Tabs rose with him. But once theywere on their feet an amused expression of cunning came into his eyes. It told Tabs plainly that he had seen through the strategy. He shook hishead. "Very good of you. But I'm waiting for Maisie. " He held out hishand. It was evident that he was determined to take Tabs at his word. "We'll meet again, perhaps. What you've just said piques my curiosity. Before you go, there's one more question. In your opinion what wouldMaisie's attitude be if Pollock did come back?"

Tabs was instantly aware that he had made a false move. His bluff hadbeen called. He'd made it impossible for himself to prolong his call; atthe same time he didn't dare to leave this man behind in the house. Itwasn't Maisie that he was thinking of now--he could warn her as sheentered the Court--it was Porter. A madman was capable of anything; andyet, confound the chap's deceptiveness, he didn't look mad. There wasonly one chance of delaying his departure: at all costs he must involvehim in an argument. 

"If Pollock came back! Curious that you should suggest that! I've sat inthis room and discussed the possibility with Mrs. Lockwood by the hour. For the past two months--that's as long as I've known her--I've beenhelping her to live as though he might come back. "

The man's coolness instantly vanished. His excitement grew well-nighbeyond control. "You're not going. Sit down. You've got to explain. " Herapped out his sentences in short, quick jerks. His voice had becomeharsh and imperative. "You can't have any idea what this means to me. It's ridiculous. Why should you, a living man, help her, when she's sobeautiful, to save herself for a dead man? She didn't save herself inthe case of Gervis and Lockwood. "

With a sigh of relief Tabs reseated himself. The man sank down besidehim, crowding against him on the couch. His anxiety was sharp-pointedas a dagger. "Quick, " he urged. 

"I don't know that I can be quick. " Tabs spoke leisurely. He paused, trying to think what he should say next. "Here it is in a nutshell. Mrs. Lockwood, as we both know, is a more than ordinarily charming woman. She's the kind who, without being able to prevent herself, draws men. There are women like that. Her three marriages, all taking place soclose together gave her a reputation---- You're a man of the world;you'll understand that I'm not trying to say anything derogatory. Butthree matrimonial adventures in such rapid succession gave her areputation for lightness. She was young and pretty. She longed to livelife. You can't blame her. For a woman life isn't a very full affairwithout a man. And yet there aren't many men who would be willing tochoose a wife with three previous husbands to her credit. It would seemtoo much like a week-end experiment, without the option of parting whenthe week was ended. So here was the injustice of her social situation;without having committed a solitary indiscretion, she was damagedgoods--debarred from matrimony, yet coveted by men. Do you realize thetemptation----"

The man half rose in his irritation. "You're not answering my question. "The violence in his tone was unmistakeable. "What I've got to find outis, what put you up to persuading her to live as though Pollock were notdead?"

"I was coming to that. " Tabs spoke reassuringly. "Beneath all her gayetyI found, when I began to know her, that she was desperate--desperate tolive in the sunshine and mortally afraid of shadows. At the least hintof shadows she grew reckless. She believed that her happiness was in thepast. So I taught her to play a game--a game that has often saved mefrom despair. It was just this--to act as though all the goodness onehas known still lies ahead; in her case this meant living as though theman whom she had loved were not dead, but waiting for her round somefuture corner. So that was why---- But I think I've answered yourquestion. "

Tabs rose from the couch and limped over to the empty fireplace. Hestood there beneath the portrait of Lady Dawn, supporting himself withone arm against the mantel. The room was beginning to fill with dusk. Beyond the threshold of the open window, the rockery-garden was stillvaguely golden. The little pond was a silver mirror. 

Perhaps two minutes had elapsed. Uncertainly the stranger struggled tohis feet. He moved towards the door, halted and came slowly back. Helooked very spent, and slim, and wasted in the gathering shadows. AsTabs gazed down at him, he noticed that his face was prodigiouslysolemn. 

"I don't mind now. " He swallowed like a small boy getting rid of hisemotion. "I don't mind Gervis or Lockwood any longer; it's as thoughthey'd never happened. And I don't feel hard to her, the way I mighthave. I'm glad you told her about things being round the corner. BecauseI'm Pollock. I have come back. "

Tabs stared at him. He was deeply moved. To humor him in his delusionseemed the height of callousness. Yet what else was possible under thecircumstances?

"Of course you're Pollock, " he assured him gently. "One wouldn'trecognize you from your portraits, but I ought to have guessed. "

The man caught the deception in his tone. He lifted up his puzzled grayeyes. "You don't---- No, I see you don't. You don't believe me. Yet I amPollock. "

"My dear chap, " Tabs said it coaxingly, "I don't see why you shouldthink I doubt you. I'm quite certain you're Pollock--Reggie Pollock, thefirst of all the aces: the man who brought down the Zeppelin overBrussels. You see I know all about you. Your picture was in the papers. I've told you that you were expected. So why----"

The front door was heard to open and close. There was the sound ofMaisie's voice. They stood rigidly listening in the semi-darkness. Neither of them spoke or stirred. As she entered, a shaft of light fromthe hall preceded her. Quietly Tabs placed himself between her and thestranger. The stranger made no motion to thwart him; he stood like oneturned to stone. Just across the threshold she halted, leaning forwardslightly and peering through the shadows. 

"Why, Tabs, " she laughed, "how romantic of you to sit waiting for me inthe twilight!"

Tabs came forward as though he were about to push her back. "I'm notalone, Mrs. Lockwood----"

"I know. Porter told me. But why are you standing in my way?" Shelaughed again. A shiver of fear cut short her laughter. "What's thematter? I don't see your friend. Why don't you introduce----"

"He's not my friend. He says he's yours. "

"Then all the more reason---- Why are you acting strangely? No, pleaselet me into my own room, Tabs. "

He had put out his arm to prevent her. Without warning the strangeradvanced into the shaft of light. She saw him and fell back screaming, covering her eyes. With a vehemence that was unexpected, he pushed Tabsaside and clasped her to him. "Maisie darling, don't be afraid. I'mreal. I know everything. And I don't mind----"

At sound of his voice, she uncovered her eyes. His face was close tohers. The fixed look of terror left her. 

Putting out her hands timidly, she ran her fingers along the scar in hisforehead. "They've hurt you. Poor you! My Reggie! Oh, my lover, they'vehurt you!"

She buried her head against his shoulder and fell to weepingpassionately. 

II

Neither of them had seen him go. He had tiptoed past them like a ghostand out into the summer night. The sky was luminous with the dust ofstars. A sleepy wind was blowing. 

He jumped into his car and sped away, making such haste that one mighthave thought he was pursued. He wheeled to the left in the directionthat led to the Surrey hills. It was the direction he had taken withTerry on that March morning when she had met him at the station. He wasmaking a discovery: that there is no tragedy more difficult tocontemplate with charity than the sight of other people's happiness. Their follies we can tolerate and view even with compassion; but theirjoys are unendurable. Joy separates men with impassable barriers. Ittransfigures beggars into Lazaruses lying at rest in Abraham's bosom. Weview them from afar off and their contentment increases the burning ofour torment. No man has yet discovered how to share his joy. Only a godcould say, "My joy I give unto you. "

They had not seen him go. That was the neglect that rankled. Even thoughthey had seen him, they would not have cared; they would have donenothing to delay him. They were past all caring. Like tired ships, having weathered many storms, they had furled their sails in the harborof desire. He had slipped by them like a demon vessel, all canvasspread, out-going on his endless voyage. 

From the door, before he left, he had looked back. The room was a-silverwith twilight. The garden beyond was still vaguely golden. The pondglimmered darkly like a magic mirror. The murmur of London wove patternson the silence. From the hall across the silver of the dusk, anintrusive shaft of light pointed like a finger at those two entranced, who had refound the peace that time had scattered. 

Even though Pollock had not returned, he himself could never havemarried her. There are violations of the austerity of the soul which theurgings of the flesh cannot accomplish. In the vivid flash of realitythat had visited him he knew that now. He was angry--bitterly angry. Buthis anger was not for her; it was for himself. He could be soaudaciously prophetic in the affairs of others. He could advise them andwell-nigh compel them to conserve themselves for kingdoms of whosecoming there was neither the slightest hope nor warning. His penetratingoptimism could foresee the daringly incredible, so that it almost seemedin the case of Maisie that his optimism had created out of theincredible a fact. He could work these miracles of restraint for others;himself he could not restrain. His road ran straight as destiny, yet anylazy kingdom of mildness in a woman's eyes was capable of luring himaside. In his abasement he lost all faith in his self-knowledge. Hadn'the always been the victim of an imagination which had tricked mereliking into a resemblance to passion? He strutted, gestured, despairedtill he almost persuaded himself that he was the part he was acting. Buthad he the faintest conception of what real love meant? Hadn't he alwaysacted a part? Yes, even in the case of Terry!

His saner judgment intervened. He hadn't always been like that. Wherehad the point of departure started? He traced back the weakness till hecame to the moment when he had permitted his sense of justice to beover-ruled by a woman. It had started with Maisie, when he had allowedher to persuade him to hide the truth from Lady Dawn. 

He jammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden halt. To go andtell her must be the first step in his redemption. Till that was donethe curse of the dead man would follow him. It seemed to him now, as helooked back, that through all the spring and summer the shadow of LordDawn had crept behind him. He would go at once. He would go that night. He knew where he could find her. He would set out like a pilgrim of longago through the moon-drenched, hay-scented sweetness of the country. 

His vision turned outwards. He realized for the first time where he hadhalted. He was within sight of Richmond Park, outside _The Star andGarter Hotel_, the old haunt of merry-makers, which had now become apermanent hospital for the mutilated. There were lights to mark thewindows of men who suffered. As he watched, some leaped up; others weresnapped out. He could hear in memory the starchy rustling of nurses andthe creaking of springs as the patients turned. There were men in therewithout arms and legs and faces; he had shared their danger and he hadbeen spared. Surely the God who had covered him with His mantle, had hadsome plan--some design of goodness for him!

Far below in a curving streak of blessedness the Thames ran silvered bythe moonlight. He could see the clumped shadows of woods and the flickerof ripples striking fire against the banks. More distantly Londonglowed--a golden flower cupped in the hollowed hand of night. Holdinghis breath he listened to the loudness of the quiet. Subtle ecstasiesdrifted to him, fluttering like moths against the windows of hismind--"lilies like thoughts, roses like words, in the sweet brain ofJune. " _There was a design. _ Maisie had found her kingdom. Was it toomuch to expect that round some future turning God had another kingdomwaiting?

III

He drove back to London by the directest route. He would have to getsupper before he made a start. By the time he had done that, packed hisbag, and refilled his tank it would be close on midnight. Dawn Castlelay somewhere down in Gloucestershire. He knew the road as far asOxford; after that his ideas were vague. 

He was a little daunted by the thought of Lady Dawn. Everything that hehad heard about her, including his first meeting with her, had served todaunt him. He pictured her as a woman with a conscience clear-cut as acameo--a woman, infallible and unsubdued, impatient of foolishness andgentle in her spirit with the cold tranquillity of a landscape underice. How would she receive him, coming out of nowhere, unheralded andunexplained? And how could he explain the urgency that had compelled himto come to her? It was a delicate task that he had set himself, thisseeking out a woman with whom he was unacquainted, that he might tellher that her husband had not hated her when he died. What concern was itof his, she might well ask. If she chose to be hostile, there were noarguments by which he could defend his interference. His solejustification was his deep-rooted conviction that he was doing right. 

She never cried. How often Maisie had insisted on her sister'sabstinence from tears, as though it was something monstrous that summedup all her character! He would have felt far more comfortable invisiting her if he had been assured that she sometimes cried. 

As he turned into Brompton Square, he thought he caught the door of hishouse in the act of closing. He might have been mistaken. It was darkunder the shadow of the trees. Quite possibly it had been the door of aneighbor's house. Nevertheless, he hugged the curb as he drove so thathe might scan the face of any one on the pavement. Forty yards from hisdoorstep, at a point where things were darkest, a man passed him. He wasa tall man and walked with the erectness of one who had been a soldier. The way in which he carried himself and strode was extraordinarilyreminiscent. Tabs slowed down and looked back; the man moved straightahead, without hesitancy or sign of recognition. It couldn't beBraithwaite; Ann's vicinity was the least likely place in which to findhim. 

As Tabs let himself into his house, he found Ann in the hall. "Was theresome one here to see me?" he asked. 

"There's been no one to see your Lordship, " Ann replied respectfully. 

He scarcely knew what prompted him to say it. Perhaps it was thehealthy neatness of her appearance--the extreme orderliness of herquiet. "Ann, you're the sanest creature I meet anywhere. You've thepluck of one in a million. "

She turned to him a face that was flushing and eyes that were unusuallybright. "It's good of your Lordship. Your Lordship is always kind. "

"No, Ann, only human. I know what you've been through and I'm gladyou're getting over it---- I have to be away to-night. I shall need somesupper. While you're preparing it, I'll pack. "

On the way upstairs he telephoned the garage to send for his car and toreturn it within the hour. Then he climbed the last flight to hisbedroom. 

While he packed, he kept pausing and knitting his brows. A ridiculousconviction was forming in his mind. "It couldn't have been, " he assuredhimself. Yet the more he recalled the man on the pavement the morecertain he was that he had been Steely Jack. But what motive couldBraithwaite have had for calling and why should Ann try to hide the factthat he had called? He had lost trace of him utterly since that day whenhe had handed him Terry's ultimatum at the Savoy. Since then Terry andhe had had many meetings, he did not doubt. Braithwaite's influenceclung to her like her shadow. But if he was so in love with Terry, themore reason why he should steer clear of Ann. To have called at BromptonSquare would have been asking for a cloudburst. It couldn't have beenBraithwaite. And yet----

And then there was Ann. Since that day when the General's portrait hadappeared in the papers, she had given up watching for letters marked, "On His Majesty's Service. " She had made no further enquiries as to howhis Lordship's friend at the War Office was progressing. Her silencetold its story; she had learned the truth. In what spirit she hadaccepted the truth Tabs had no means of guessing. Lady Hamilton, thelittle maid-of-all-work, had been the beloved of Nelson. Ann was notwithout her precedent. But the maid-of-all-work had become Lady Hamiltonbefore the Admiral had set eyes on her. Steely Jack was a General, whileAnn was still a servant. Her claims would not meet with much applause ifthey were brought before a jury. 

To all appearance she had resigned herself to the inevitable. Tabs wasfrankly surprised at her magnanimity and fortitude. About her fortitudethere could be no question, but concerning her magnanimity he was not alittle skeptical. More than once he had caught her singing as she wentabout her work. She didn't get all the words correctly; she sang themwith improvisions, filling in the gaps where her memory failed. Throughout the war the song had been sung to men on leave at theAlhambra by the heroine who acted the revengeful part of _Tootsie_:

 "Some day I'll make you love me. Some day you'll call me 'Dear'. You'll feel so lonely And want me only; I'm sure you'll want me near. I know you can't forget me, Though, dear, for years you'll try. I'll make you miss me And want to kiss me, Bye and bye. "

She was a mystery. If she were playing a game, it was a game theintentions of which he could not fathom. The man whom he had passed onthe pavement could not have been Braithwaite. Common-sense insisted onthat. 

IV

While he was at supper she gave him no chance to question her. "I'mmotoring down to Dawn Castle, " he told her. "I've left the address on mydesk. Don't forward any letters till you hear from me. I don't supposethat I shall be there for more than a day. To tell the truth, " heglanced up smiling at her seriousness, "I haven't been invited. "

Ann refused to be lured off her perch of reticence. She set before himthe dish she was carrying. "I'm sure wherever your Lordship goes there'sa welcome. "

He felt that he was being reproved. He had been conscious of her silentcriticism from the moment he had announced that he would be away for thenight. He respected Ann and was anxious for her good opinion. She was bylong odds the most honorable woman of his acquaintance and the best, because she was the kindest. He had had the feeling throughout the pasttwo months that there was very little that had happened inside his brainthat had escaped her. She had disapproved of Maisie. She had shown noenthusiasm for Terry. She had been aware of his dangers when he himselfwas disguising them with excuses. All this he knew though no word hadbeen exchanged. She had observed in all her dealings with him thedecorum to be expected from a high-class servant. And yet she was histrusted friend, whose virtues compelled his admiration and whose loyaltycommanded his affection. She thought ahead for him and smoothed hispath. Her sense of responsibility was as tender as a sister's. Herhumility lent it a touch of pathos. He looked up to her as meninstinctively look up to good women in whatever grade of society theyfind them. The silent knowledge which each had of the other formed abond of sympathy, the more delicate because it was unuttered. 

He said, "Long ago--it must have been before the war--I gave you ticketsto see Peter Pan. "

"It wasn't to me your Lordship gave them. It was to Braithwaite. "

"Was it?" He held her eyes, striving to peer behind their curtainedwindows. It was the first time that that name had been mentioned betweenthem in casual conversation. "You're right. It comes back to me now. Itwas the Christmas of 1913 that he took you. Do you remember the fairywho was dying? There was only one way of keeping her alive. Peter Panhad to make the children in the audience promise that they believed infairies. When they did that, she got well. That's why I'm going to DawnCastle to-night. "

Ann ceased abruptly from what she was doing and stared at her master inconcern. He laughed mischievously. "Wrong again, Ann; I've not takenleave of my senses. Two hours ago I made the same mistake. There was aman who asked me whether I believed that Mrs. Lockwood's first husband, who was killed at the Front, would return. While I was wondering howlong it would be before he'd grow violent, he proved to me that he washer first husband. So I'm believing in fairies. "

A secret happiness lit up her face. "Deep down beneath our doubts, mostof us believe in fairies, I think, your Lordship. " With a shy smile sheleft him. 

The purring of an engine warned him that the car had returned and waswaiting. He could hear Ann in the hall, handing out his bags. He hadfinished his supper; he might as well be off. As he drove out of theSquare, he looked back; she was standing on the steps, gazing after him. He had the restless certainty, now that it was too late, that she hadhad a secret which, at the last moment, she would have given the worldto have shared with him. 

V

Of that night journey in after years he remembered only the deep peaceand the ecstasy. He was doing something at last that was right; thoughwhy it was right, he would have found it hard to explain. He encounterednone of the difficulties he had anticipated in picking up his direction. He flew unswervingly to the mark like a bullet traveling a predestinedpath. The first sixty miles were familiar; Maisie had covered them withhim on many occasions. By every law of emotion each landmark should havestirred some poignant memory, some fresh wistfulness of regret. The factwas that he hardly gave her a thought. When he did, it was only to wishher luck and to congratulate himself on his escape. 

Having passed through Oxford lying blanched in moonlight, he climbed outof the Thames valley, striking through uplands across the wold toBurford. From then on all memories were left behind; he had become anexplorer in an unknown country. 

Everything was sleeping. How trustfully it slept! Trees were hooded likeextinguished candles. Flowers throughout the fields clasped their facesin their hands. Birds, like fluffy balls, drowsed on branches. Starsalone were wakeful. They stooped to watch him with intent, companionableglances. Now and then he had to halt to flash his torch on a sign-postor to consult his map. For the most part he took chances and guessed. 

Night engulfed him, rushed past him, broke over him. He was like a shipthrusting forward into a trackless ocean. 

The paleness of dawn was in the sky as he neared Gloucester. When heentered, its roofs and towers were precipices of gold and fire, straining up to the New Jerusalem which floated in the clouds. Thestreets of the ancient city had a mystic look, white and hushed andtenantless. But already the cheeky sparrows were about, scandal-mongering beneath the eaves with an unholy disregard for the aweby which they were surrounded. 

He left Gloucester in a southwesterly direction. In fields the hay waslying cut. A largesse of dew had been scattered through the hedgerowslike loot from the treasure-chests of emperors. Larks were battling up, striving to sing against the very bars of heaven. Every fragrance andsound was a messenger, guaranteeing happiness. 

Round a bend in the road he came across a cluster of thatched cottages, their white walls gleaming incandescent in the morning sunshine. Beyondthem lay a parkland, from the edge of which rose a wooded knoll, crownedby a moated castle. The next mile-stone warned him that it was thevillage of Dawn he was approaching. 

VI

All day he had waited--a lazy summer day, drowsy with the hum of beesand heavy with the perfume of cottage flowers. On entering the villagehe had put up at _The Dawn Arms_, an old-fashioned hunting hostel whichowed its prosperity to the fame of the Dawn foxhounds. Having bathed andbreakfasted, he had started off to leave his card on Lady Dawn. Arrivingat the Castle, he had been informed that her Ladyship had left earlythat morning and was not expected back till early evening. He had filledin the morning by sleeping and the afternoon by joining a band ofsight-seeing trippers who had driven over from Gloucester ingayly-painted chars-a-bancs. 

With a spice of amusement, he had paid his shilling for admission at thewooden booth outside the Castle gate and had found himself herded with acrowd of affectionately inclined young women and young men who perspiredfreely--the latter for the sake of greater comfort had removed theircoats and knotted handkerchiefs about their throats. In good time adecrepit ex-butler had appeared to act as guide and had led theexcursionists over the Norman part of the ruins. He had shown them thedungeons, the room in which a prince had been murdered and the havocwrought upon the walls by Cromwellian cannon. The ever recurring themeof his trembling narrative was the prowess and the splendor of theDawns. He was like a weak-voiced cricket chirping in the sunshine. Hisstories of bygone lords, who had died in rebellions and crusades, weretoo ancient to grip the imagination. At first his veneration for therace which he served inspired an outward show of respect on the part ofhis hearers. But soon, in straggling twos and threes, they lagged behindto explore and pluck wall-flowers from the crannies. Girls, feeling thepressure of lovers' arms about their waists, giggled shrilly. Theywandered off to shady nooks in the grass-grown ramparts where woollysheep looked up somnolently to watch them. 

To the few who remained the old man mumbled on. It was the nobility ofthe late Lord Dawn that he was now recounting--the daring horseman hehad been, the deviltry of him, the lust of life he had had, thegreatness of his possessions and how he had foregone all this beauty tobe hammered into the defilement of the trenches like a rat, cornered ina sewer. 

"Visitors are not allowed in the part of the Castle that is inhabited. But, since her Ladyship's away----"

Unlocking a door, he led them through a tunnel to a grilled gate, through the bars of which they saw the Castle's terraced rose-gardens, falling away steeply in a cascade of petals to a water-lilied, green-scummed moat which encircled the stronghold like a necklace ofjade. Beside the water's edge a fair-haired boy in a white sailor suitwas deeply absorbed in sailing a boat. 

"His little Lordship, " the old man whispered. 

"But I didn't know---- How old?" Tabs questioned. 

"Eight years, sir, come December. "

Long after he had returned to the inn, the picture of the little boyremained with him. This discovery that Lord Dawn had left a son made himthe more certain of the justice of his errand. 

The azure and emerald of late afternoon drifted into the ensanguinedgold of sunset. The long-tarrying twilight had already settled when amessenger arrived, bearing a note. It was from her Ladyship, regrettingher absence and saying that she would be happy to receive a visit fromLord Taborley that evening or at any time that was convenient. 

VII

He set out at once. Heretofore, with the exception of Terry, women hadmeant little to him. But he was curious to meet this woman--curious andeager in a strangely boyish fashion. Every one who had mentioned her hadspoken of her with a certain hint of fear, not untinged with adoration. He hadn't been aware how anxious he had been to meet her until her notehad summoned him. He wondered whether she had any of the endearinghumanity of her sister. He wondered whether what Pollock had said wastrue, that she looked much older than her portrait. He didn't want herto look older----

He came to the bridge across the moat and the gateway which bore thegrooves in which the old portcullis used to slide. He passed through thegateway, under the tower, into the graveled courtyard of the Castle. Onthree sides the courtyard was loop-holed and sullen, but on the fourthmodern windows and a brass-knobbed door had been let into the solidmasonry. Above the door, shining down on the whitened steps, a lampburnt in a wrought-iron socket. Several of the windows were alsolighted. 

His knock was answered by a gray-haired man, with the gravity ofdeportment which is peculiar to lawyers, undertakers and footmen. Whilethe man went to inform his mistress, Tabs was left to note how the hallwas hung with hunting trophies. Then he heard himself being requested tofollow. 

Having climbed a winding stair, he was shown into a room in the turret, one side of which was filled by a tall leaded window gazing westward. The landscape which it framed, hung against the darkness like a paintedcanvas--a far-reaching expanse of tree-dotted pasture, vague withislands of mist and rimmed by the last faint sparks of the sunset. Theceiling was heavily beamed, the furniture Jacobean, the walls paneledand hung with many generations of family portraits. In a wide hearth afire of coals and logs was burning. In the room's center stood a carvedtable on which was set a massive silver lamp, casting a solitaryillumination. 

"Lord Taborley, my Lady. "

As his name was announced, he heard the rustle of her dress, anddiscovered that she had been seated in a low chair by the window. Sherose with a slow grace. There was something indefinably tragic andforeordained about her every movement. Maisie's name for her flashedinto his mind, "The Princess Czarina Bolsheviki. " It suited her exactly. In those surroundings she might have posed as Mary Queen of Scots inprison--a queen without a kingdom whose pride was unbroken. In thedimness his first impression was of her queenly gentleness. 

"I can guess why you've come. "

The same deep voice that had taunted him at Maisie's, only now it was nolonger taunting! He noticed the way she offered him her hand, with thearm fully extended as if to hold him away from her. She was a smallerwoman than he had remembered; it was the courage of her bearing that hadmade her seem taller. He could not see her face distinctly; it was inshadow. But, when she turned, he caught the whiteness of her profile onthe dusk, clear-cut and tranquil as a cameo. After having gazed so longat Sargent's painting, he would have recognized anywhere the roundedshapeliness of her head, the hair swept smoothly back from the calmforehead, the splendid strength of her throat and the delicate, whollyfeminine half-moon of her shoulders. 

"Won't you sit over here? If you would prefer it, we can have morelamps. But they would spoil----" She indicated the vague stretch ofcountry, across which mists were drifting like gray ghosts. 

He drew up a chair at an angle to her own, so that he could study her. "You say you think you know why I've come?"

"I was expecting you, " she said quietly. He could feel rather than seethe steady kindness that was in her stone-gray eyes. 

"If you were expecting me, then your sister must have----"

"My sister had nothing to do with my expecting. Can't you think of anyone closer?"

He shook his head. At first he had hoped that Maisie had told her anddone his work for him. Evidently it wasn't that. She was attributingsome other motive to his visit. It was a motive the disclosure of whichcalled for delicacy. She had prearranged his reception. It was noaccident that had caused him to find her alone in the dimness of thegathering evening. The scanty lighting of the shadowy room had beenstage-set to spare them both embarrassment. "If it wasn't yoursister----" He paused at a loss to know how to proceed further. 

Her hands came together gently in her lap. When she spoke, her emotionalvoice had a new tenderness. "Will you allow me to help you? We're notsuch strangers as we seem. For years I've been interested in you. I wasalways hearing of your adventures in Mexico, Korea, the Balkans and lastof all at the Front. You've been quite a romantic figure in my life. You've always seemed so strong; and I admire strength immensely. I neverdreamt that a time would ever come when I would be able to help you. You're in love and she's not in love with you. You're older than she isand it makes you unhappy. She has time to experiment, but for you it'sdifferent; your love is bound up with the last of your youth. Becauseyou've been unhappy, you've been unwise. Your foolishness endedyesterday with the return of Reggie Pollock. I received the news of hisreturn this morning. So you came down here to me, which was perfectlynatural. "

He shifted his gaze and stared out of the window, puzzled and troubled. "Unfortunately for me, Lady Dawn, a good deal of what you've said istrue. But I don't see how it makes it natural that I should have come toyou. I've been wanting to come for a very long time, but was given tounderstand that what I had to say might be distasteful. "

"You must put that out of your mind. " She said it comfortingly, asthough to a little boy. "There's nothing distasteful in what you haveto say. It may cause awkwardness with Sir Tobias; but if you can assureme that you're really in earnest over Terry, I'll be quite willing torisk that in order to become your ally. "

He smiled towards her through the darkness. "There's nothing I shouldlike better than to reckon you as my ally. And now I see why we've beentalking at cross-purposes. You think that I've come to wheedle Terry'saddress out of you. Perhaps I have, since you've put the idea into myhead. And with regard to my earnestness, nothing except Terry in thewhole world matters. She's romance, self-fulfillment and, as you'vesaid, the last dream of my youth. If I supposed that I were going tolose her, I would rather not have---- But I didn't come here to burdenyou with my troubles. I came to do something for you--something whichI've tried to avoid doing. Something which has forced itself upon me andfollowed me until---- It's as though I'd been compelled by a personalityoutside myself. I may make you very unhappy----"

She leant forward, bringing her face so close that he could feel thefanning of her breath. The moon was newly risen; as it shone on themist, low-lying in the meadows, it made the country-side luminous like avast lake of milk which washed about the trees and submerged the hedges. In its reflected radiancy for the first time he saw her featuresclearly. They startled him, leaping together out of the white blur thatthey had been into something more lovely than he had imagined. He hadnever seen such calmness. And the calmness was not alone in herexpression; the same sculptured quiet was in the white curve of her armsand the gentle swelling of her breast. He knew now why she was declaredto be the most beautiful woman in England. But it was the wisdom of herfar more than the beauty that enthralled him. There was no weakness thather sympathy could not encompass--nothing that he need be ashamed totell her. Though she appeared to be about the same age as himself, byreason of her experience she made him feel younger. No woman who hadattracted him before had been able to make him feel that. Already he wasfilled with a strange sense of gratitude. 

Very simply she took his hand and folded it between her own. 

"You, who have been a soldier, were a little afraid of me. Don't beafraid of me, Lord Taborley. Whatever it is that you've come to do forme, I shall try to be grateful. As for making me unhappy, no one--noteven you--has the power to do that. "

VIII

He looked at her wonderingly. "They say you never cry. "

A slow smile flitted across her face and died out. "You want the truth?You yourself tell the truth---- When they say that I never cry, theymean that I never let them see me. "

He laughed softly. "I thought it was that: you cry in secret like a man. Not to cry at all would be monstrous; it was that which made me afraidof you. A man doesn't like a woman to be stronger than himself. It wasabout a man who didn't like a woman to be stronger than himself that Icame to talk to you. "

She had guessed. Through her hands he could feel the commotion of herlife struggle and die down till it grew almost silent. The stillness ofthe room seemed a backwater of the intenser stillness of the nightwithout. 

Her lips scarcely moved. "And the man?"

"Your husband. "

"But he's dead. "

"I know. "

He waited for her to flame up at the indelicacy of his intrusion. Healmost hoped she would. When she sat motionless as a statue, hecontinued apologetically. "I'm trespassing on things sacred. Because ofthat I've fought to avoid this meeting, knowing all the time that it wasinevitable. I've tried to persuade myself that it would be kinder toleave you in ignorance----"

"Of what?" She strove to subdue her apprehension. Her profile showedpale and expressionless, as if chiseled in the solid wall of darkness. 

"In ignorance of his grandeur. "

He had said the thing most remote from what she had expected. He wasaware of her relieved suspense--at the same time of her gentleskepticism. He felt irritated with himself at his choice of words. Grandeur did not express the meaning he had intended. When he made a newstart, he stumbled his way gropingly, confused by his consciousness ofher unuttered doubts. 

"Why I have to tell you this I can hardly say. It's not for his sake. It's certainly not for mine. It's for yours, I fancy. Yes, I'm sure. Bydoing him justice I shall be able to help you, though I have no reasonfor supposing that you stand in need of help. It's to do him justicethat he's been urging me. Yet why should he have selected me to be hisspokesman? I wasn't his friend. I never met him till I reached theFront; out there I really never knew him. No one did. He was like asleep-walker--a very silent man. You'll be wondering why, if this wasthe case, I should be so impertinent as to mention his name to you--toyou of all persons, who can claim to have known him infinitely moreintimately than any one else. And you'll be wondering why, after twomonths of procrastinating, I motored through the night from London toforce my way into your privacy, without forewarning or introduction. IfI'm going to be honest, I must run the risk of appearing absurd. I couldresist him no longer. He coerced me with ill-luck. Ever since I enteredyour sister's house and discovered who you were, he's been urging----"

"Who I _was_!" Her head turned slowly. It was her first intense displayof interest. 

"I mean your relation to him--that it was you who were his wife. At theFront I didn't know that he was Lord Dawn; he'd blotted out hisidentity. He was merely gun-fodder like the rest of us--something to besent over the top to be smashed and then to be left to sink into themud or else hurried back to be patched up in hospital. He was acompany-commander in my battalion. I knew nothing of his past. Myacquaintance with him began and ended in the trenches. I don't know muchnow--only what Maisie's told me. " He had been speaking with growingearnestness. Suddenly he flashed into indignant vehemence. "WhatMaisie's told me! It's false of the man as he was out there. He wantsyou to believe that. Out there he was different. He may have been paltryand base once; but he was reborn into a new nobility. He was white allthrough. He was overpoweringly heroic. From the humblest Tommy we alladored him--adored him for the example he set us. He was only cheerfulwhen there was dying to be done--out at rest and in quiet sectors he wasgloomy. The men loved him for that; it struck them as humorous. And yethe was utterly indifferent to their love. He'd got beyond caring forwhat anybody thought of him. He was too absorbed in establishing reasonsfor thinking well of himself. I learnt things about him--one does in thepresence of physical torture. I learnt secrets about the fineness of hisspirit which, I believe, he never allowed you to suspect. Probably henever suspected them himself until the ordeal of terror had sifted thegold from the dross. It was the dross that Maisie remembered. But we, who were his comrades in khaki, saw nothing but the gold--his untiringability to share. You weren't there; nevertheless, that's what I've gotto help you to understand. I've got to make you see the new Lord Dawnwho was born out there. It was last night, after Pollock returned, thatI saw my duty clearly. It came on me in a flash that, if a man who hadbeen counted dead could come back, it was not impossible that thispleading from beyond the grave, which I'd tried to thwart andridicule----"

He broke off abruptly. It was the wideness of her eyes that warned him. He was conscious that she, too, was feeling that invisible pressure. Shewas expecting to see something. He followed the direction of her eyes, glancing behind him into the hollow dimness of the room, where thesolitary lamp was burning and the vanished lords of Dawn gazed stonilydown from their canvases. In that moment he was aware that he had beenstating facts as he had never owned them to himself. It was as thoughhis lips had been used----

"Things that he didn't allow me to suspect!" She sighed shudderingly. "He allowed me to suspect so much. But tell me. What were these things?Since they're the reasons for your visit, they must be important. "

"They're only part of the reasons. "

"There are others?"

"The chief reason is yourself. " He spoke cautiously, fearful lest hemight lose her attention by rousing her incredulity. Even to himself itsounded preposterous that he, an outsider, should claim to bear sointimate a message from a husband who was dead. "You believed, LadyDawn, that you had ceased to count in your husband's affections; yetwherever his battalion went, you were present with us. The men andofficers knew you, without knowing who you were. You were with us inthe mud of the Somme; you went over the top with us in our attacks. Morethan one young officer believed himself in love with you. Yours was thelast woman's face that many a poor fellow looked upon before he wentWest. We were an emotional lot. Death made us natural as children. Womenmeant more to us than they ever had before and than they ever willagain, perhaps. The nearness to eternity purged us of impurity. It firedus with a wistful kind of chivalry. The change is hard to express. I'veknown men, who hadn't a wife or sweetheart, cut strange women'sportraits from the illustrated papers and treasure them. As we sit hereit sounds a waste of sentiment; out there it seemed tragically pathetic. Every man wanted to believe, even though his believing was a consciouspretense, that there was one woman peculiarly his, who would miss----"

He interrupted himself to glance again across his shoulder, followingher eyes where they probed the stealthy shadows. Then he brought hisgaze back. "That was how I first learnt to know your face--from theportrait which your husband carried. Into whatever danger he wasordered, you went--you accompanied him in the most real sense: hecarried you in his heart. From time to time I got glimpses of you. Whenhe thought no one was looking, he would prop your portrait against thewalls of dug-outs with a candle lighted before it, as if you were asaint whom he worshiped. You were the inspiration of his steadfastnessto duty. What he did, he did for you. His courage was your courage; hiskindness was your kindness. He was striving every minute to be worthy ofyou. I know of what I'm talking, for I did the same for Terry. Late atnight one would stumble down greasy dug-out stairs, coming in from apatrol, to find him lost in thought and gazing at you. Or one would findhim covering page after page of letters which he never sent. When he wasdying, alone and far out in No Man's Land, he must have drawn out yourportrait from next his heart. It was so tightly clasped in his hand whenwe found him, that we couldn't take it from him. I'd almost forgottenall this until two months ago, when I recognized Sargent's painting ofyou in your sister's house. Then for the first time I discovered yourname and who he was. Since then he's given me no rest. "

She had been leaning forward, her arm supported on her knee, her chincushioned in her hand, the white light from the mist-covered meadowsfalling softly on her through the tall window, revealing the pulsebeating in her throat and the trembling of her thin sweet mouth. 

"What was it that he wanted you to do for me, Lord Taborley?"

He hesitated, clasping his forehead, like a man whose memory hadsuddenly gone blank. "I'm not sure. And yet I was sure before I startedtalking. Didn't you believe that he died hating you?"

She shook her head. "He left a child by me. "

"Then, perhaps it wasn't that he hadn't hated you, but that he'd lovedyou in his last moments. Was it that which he wanted me to tell you?"

Again, with a gesture, she negatived his suggestion. "He'd never havedoubted that I would know he had died loving me. "

"Then why did he send me?"

Even while he asked it, he marveled at his certainty that she shared hisconviction that he had been sent. 

She turned her eyes full on his face and let them dwell theresearchingly. As he returned her gaze, he noted that she was less youngthan he had supposed. She was older than her portrait. Her hair, whichhad looked night-black in the shadows, was prematurely frosted. Themoonlight, strengthening, picked out remorselessly each silver thread. She was no longer capable of putting back the hands of time for any man. 

She had read his thoughts. The pride went out of her voice. "Perhaps hesent you, " she faltered, "that he might give me back a little of what hetook. "

"What did he take? Anything that I have----"

She leant back in her chair. Her face was again in shadow. "My youth. Myhappiness. "

In the silence which followed he was aware that the third presence haddeparted. 

IX

"Your youth! Your happiness!" He was astounded. "Strange that you shouldsay that! I thought that I alone was searching. "

"Let me talk, " she begged. "I want to speak about myself. Not for my ownsake, but for yours. To men like you who have lived at the Front, lifehas become a terribly earnest affair. You're like impatient children;what you want you want quickly. You seem to be afraid to postponeanything lest death should carry you off before your desire has beengranted. But you're not really different from women like myself. Crisescome to all of us, when life grows desperate--when to be alone becomesintolerable: when everything, even one's pleasures, becomes a burden, because they are unshared. Such a crisis would have come to you sooneror later in any event. It comes to every unmarried man and woman. Thewar only happened to be the means of bringing home to you yourloneliness. When it broke, you didn't have time to choose; you seized onTerry, because she was young and pretty and susceptible. You wereterrified by the calamity of being blotted out before you had knownlove. You forgot that there's a worse calamity--and that's beingcompelled to live forever with a person for whom you have ceased tocare. A man like yourself can have any woman he likes, only any womanwouldn't suit. She would have to be unusual--of a high type likeyourself. Such women are rare. The thought of Terry attracts you becausea marriage with her would seem to halve your years. But why should youwant to halve your years? To have lived ought to mean that you havegained experience, which is the most dearly purchased form of knowledge. Why should you be ashamed of it and so anxious to be rid of it? Youpurchased your experience with blood. It's the most valuable of allyour possessions. And if you were to marry Terry, what could shecontribute? A pretty face, an unbroken body and all the intolerance ofher youth. A pretty face doesn't go far in matrimony. Husbands soon getused to mere prettiness and learn to look behind it for character. Awife, in order to be your friend, would have to be your equal in herunderstanding of suffering. How much suffering has a girl like Terryhad?"

He wasn't angry. He wasn't even offended. What she had been saying hadso clarified his thoughts that it had been as if he had been thinkingaloud. Her voice was a dark mirror, glancing into which he hadrecognized himself. His self-knowledge carried him far beyond anyarguments of hers. He sat perfectly still with a face of iron, gazingstraight before him. 

What he had mistaken for chivalry and romance had been nothing butfoolishness. He had been enacting the unwisdom of an infatuated boy withthe solemnity of a mature man. His clamor had been unprofitable, undignified, absurd--on a level with the amorous hysterics of GrandOpera, save that it had lacked the redeeming storm of contending music. The utter futility of so much wasted feeling bordered on tragedy; theneed which it had expressed had been so primitive, so distressinglysincere. He was confronted with the necessity of confessing that hispassion for Terry was at an end. 

When had it died? Perhaps only since he had entered this quiet room, with its moonlit landscape, its lowered lights and its wise mistress, sitting so gravely alone with her patient beauty and her gently foldedhands. But even before he had entered, it must have been dying. Forweeks he had been flogging it, like an over-tired horse, into a feebledisplay of energy. More than anything, his conduct with Maisie provedthat. 

Maisie's excuse for the error of her many marriages recurred tohim--that Gervis and Lockwood had hung up their hats in her hall. Frivolous, yes! But had he been less frivolous in his treatment ofTerry? He had felt the compulsion to concentrate his craving to love andbe loved on some special woman! Terry had been handiest, so he'd hunghis idolatry on her. 

But to acknowledge this implied a fickleness of temperament that wasdisastrous to his self-respect. It deflated him to the proportions of anAdair. It toppled his lofty standards in the dust. It changed him from aloyalist, making a fanatical last stand, into a haggard runaway. 

His pride leapt up in his defense. Turning to Lady Dawn, with grimdespair he muttered, "But I want her. I can't do without her. I want noone else. "

X

Her voice reached him out of the darkness. "To own that we've beenmistaken takes more courage than to persist in the wrong direction. 'Iwant no one else!' We've all said that. It was through saying it that Ibrought about my shipwreck. But if you're sure that you want no oneelse, you must have her. If there's any way of getting her for you, I'll do my best to help. "

She made an effort to rise. She stood before him swaying, a blinded lookon her face, her eyes closed, her hands stretched out. He placed his armabout her. Her weight sagged against him. 

"Not the servants, " she whispered. "You and I. Give me air. "

With his free hand he jerked the catch and pushed the window wide. Thecool dampness of the night streamed in on her. He stood there with herclasped against him, her head stretched back, her body drooping. In thebowl of darkness at the foot of the turret, the rose-garden floated. Outof sight, in the green-scummed moat, a fish leapt with a sullen splash. A bird called. Wheels rumbled on a distant road. Again the silence wasunbroken. The moonlight, falling on her face, gave to it an expressionof childishness. Her breast and throat, gleaming white as marble, reminded him she was a woman. 

She stirred. Her eyes opened. She gazed up at him wonderingly. "I'mbetter. Foolish of me!" Then, inconsequently, "How tall you are, LordTaborley!"

He supported her till she could lean across the sill. They leant theretogether, their faces nearly touching. His arm was still about her; shedid not seem to notice it. He was dumb with tremulous expectancy. 

"It was about myself that I had to tell you, " she whispered. "I was oncelike you. I wanted no one else. I knew, even while I wanted him, that hecould never make me happy. Even when I was most in love with him, hehad qualities which I distrusted. After marriage the distrusting grew. Yet all the while I was sorry for him. I would have given anything toundo---- His sins were mine. With another woman, less virtuous, he mighthave been good. In his yearning he tried to drag me down. I couldn't go, not even if going would have saved him. There was something in me, notexactly pride, that prevented. I have never spoken of this to anybody. I'm saying it to you because----"

She broke off. Why was she saying it? The perfume of June roses undermoonlight, mingling with the fragrance of her hair, was intoxicating. His arm about her tightened. Was she only allowing him to hold her outof pity because of his confession?

"Because, " she said, "I think before she knows of your visit it would bebetter that you should go. "

He failed to grasp her logic. "But if I stay, she will never know. "

She released herself gently and gazed at him reproachfully. "Never know!But you came in order that she might know. "

He was more than ever puzzled. He had come to tell her of her husband. Did she not believe him? She seemed to be accusing him. He rememberedhow she had claimed, when he had entered, that she could guess what hadbrought him. "I came solely to see you, " he said, speaking slowly. "Iwas compelled, as I've told you. I give you my word of honor that myvisit wasn't even remotely related to----"

A sharply indrawn breath cut short what he was saying. They turnedquickly, moving instinctively apart. Gazing in from the open door, across the pool of lamplight, was Terry. 

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH

ROUND THE CORNER

I

Lady Dawn was the first to recover her composure. "Why, Terry, I thoughtyou were in bed!"

"I was. "

Terry's eyes shifted from Lady Dawn to Tabs. They were startled andmisty with sleep. She seemed only half-awake. Her hand rested on thedoor as if ready for retreat. Her square little face was flushed; hergold, bobbed hair was flattened where it had pressed against the pillow. She was clad in a filmy negligée; her bare feet had been pushed hastilyinto slippers and peeped out rosily from beneath the hem. She lookedimmature--the way she had in days gone by when he had tiptoed to herbedside through the darkness to feel her tight little arms leapstranglingly about his neck. She had been really a tiny girl then. Whycouldn't she have stayed like that always? Why need she have roused inhim this torturing desire which she did nothing but rebuff?

"I was asleep. I heard voices. I thought----"

What had she thought? How much had she seen and heard? How long had shebeen standing there?

Tabs attempted to bridge the awkward silence. "I drove down fromLondon. " Then he added, "That was last night. "

None of them had stirred. Lady Dawn advanced from the window into thepool of lamplight. "I think I know what you thought--that something waswrong. It was. I nearly fainted. If it hadn't been for LordTaborley----But come inside. Why do you remain standing there?"

Terry stepped just across the threshold. Having closed the door, sheleant against it, still holding the knob in her hand. It was plain thatshe was making an effort to be valiant. She looked fragile as a peeledwhite wand; like a flower, shy and dew-wet. Life had not yet commencedto break her. The clinging folds of her wrap emphasized her slenderness, the grace of her lines and the girlish contours of her figure. 

Lady Dawn went to her and put her arm about her. "You're afraid. Of whatare you afraid? Surely not of Lord Taborley? He's been telling me---- Tobe loved like that---- There was a time when I would have been proud. "

Terry's left hand went up to her breast. Her wild violet eyes lookedstraight before her, seeking always the face of Tabs. They seemed tocall to him. He came slowly to the table where she could see him. It washis chance. Lady Dawn was his advocate. It was the chance for which hehad waited. 

He was contrasting the two women before him; the one in her dainty, enviable promise and the dumb hostility of her youth; the other in thegentleness of her experience and the charity of her dearly purchasedunderstanding. Terry, whom he had loved since she was a child, hadbecome inscrutable. But Lady Dawn---- Was it her suffering that made himknow her as he knew himself?

"I hadn't meant to intrude on you, " he apologized. "I hadn't the leastidea you were here. How should I have had? You disappeared withoutwarning; at your father's house your address was refused me. Lady Dawnwill bear me out that, at the very moment you entered, I was assuringher that my visit had nothing to do with you. Probably you heard. "

"Nothing to do with me!" There was relief in her way of saying it. Shevisibly relaxed. "Then it isn't because of me at all that you're here?"

The suppressed eagerness of her question was wounding. She wanted tohear him state more positively that she had had nothing to do with hisvisit. Whatever she had seen before they had become aware of her, hadhad no power to rouse her jealousy. She could have given him no strongerproof of how absolutely he had ceased to count. He smiled bitterly. "Notbecause of you at all, Terry. The reason for my being here is strictlyprivate between Lady Dawn and myself. I didn't come to worry you. Youmay set your mind at rest. "

"Then you didn't know or even suspect----"

He laughed unhappily. "What more can I say to convince you? I haven'tthe least idea what you suppose I could suspect. What business is it ofmine to suspect anything? And if I did, what license should I have tointerfere? We're not as we once were. There are no longer anysentimental obligations that would hold us accountable to each other. You've shown me that you consider our relation ended. In the face ofthat, I should scarcely follow you into the country where, by allaccounts, you've come to escape me. It's purely a coincidence that youfind me here. "

He caught Lady Dawn's eyes resting on him. They were wide and clear andinterrogating. He knew what she was remembering: that it was in thisroom within the hour that he had said, "But I want her. I can't dowithout her. I want no one else. " Self-ridicule tempered his spirit intosharpness. He turned again to Terry. 

"Once and for all I should like to set your doubts at rest. You needhave no fear that I shall ever inconvenience you. We're bound to meetfrom time to time, but I pledge you my word that I shall never refer tothe past. You're of an age to make decisions for yourself; you'vedecided against me. You're acting quite within your privilege when youdiscard old friends. You'll wonder why I state obvious facts. I'm doingso in order that you may feel certain that I've withdrawn whateverclaims I had for influencing your movements. I shall always beinterested---- But as for presuming that anything that I might say or dowould make the least difference to your plans, I shouldn't be sofoolish----"

Breaking away from Lady Dawn, she crossed over to him. Resting her handon his arm, she sank her voice and commenced speaking so hurriedly thathe alone could make out what she said. 

"I've been false and foolish. I don't need you to tell me. If you knewhow miserable I've been and how I've despised myself---- But I can'thelp it. I go on doing things. I never used to be a beast--least of allto you; never until you wanted me to marry you. If I can act like thisnow, what sort of a wife---- Can't you understand? I'm trying to spareyou. But I won't have you hate me, Tabs. I can't endure that. Everysecond that I've kept away from you, I've been wanting--not the _you_that you are now, but the old you. Won't you start afresh, liking me theway you did when--before this happened?" She seized his hand on theimpulse and pressed it to her lips. It was the humble act of a smallgirl. "Love me just a little. I'm not really bad. Please, please forgiveme my wickedness, dear Tabs. "

He stood dumbfounded and embarrassed. If they had been alone, he wouldhave known what to do. He was at a loss to find a motive for thisdisplay of passion. Was it a ruse to get him back? He crushed thesuspicion as unworthy. Then was it what she had seen that had made herpossessive? Her tears fell scalding on his hands. 

He drew her to him. "There, there, little Terry! You mustn't. There'snothing to cry about. There's nothing wicked in not having loved a man. It's a thing that can't be helped. "

At the sign of his relenting, she threw away the last of her control. Burying her face against his coat, she clung to him. All that he couldsee of her was her golden head and her slight body, quivering withsobbing. Her voice reached him muffled. "But I am wicked. I've pushedyou from me. If you knew---- If you did, you wouldn't touch me. "

There had been no sound, yet something warned him. He looked up. Thedoor was closing. 

"Lady Dawn, " he called. In his voice there was the tremor of anxiety. 

On the point of vanishing, she glanced back across her shoulder. "Whatis it, Lord Taborley?"

The calmness of her austerity made emotion seem shallow. There was atouch of scorn in her repose. 

"Won't you help?"

She smiled faintly. "I was. I was going. "

"Then please don't. It's late. Both you and she must be worn out. "

Like a figure of silver, she came coldly back. But there was onlytenderness in her voice when she spoke. "Terry, did you hear what LordTaborley said? He thinks he ought to be going. "

Slipping her arm about the girl, she led her from him. Their footstepsdied out on the turret stairs. 

He waited, hoping that Lady Dawn would return. Now that she was gone, hewas invaded with his old loneliness. The dead lords eyed him cynicallyfrom their canvases. Through leaded panes the moonlight fell. It seemedthe sorcery of her spirit. The perfume of the rose-garden was herbreath. How pale she had made his dream of Terry! How trivial she madeall women look when she stood beside them! There was nothing in thisgift of youth for which he had clamored. Terry's youth, had he marriedher, would have been his scourge. He knew at last what it was that herequired at the hands of a woman--it was rest. 

There was no sound. The Castle was intensely still. He lowered the wickof the lamp before he left, watched the flame splutter and waited tillit sank. Tiptoeing softly down the stairs, he slipped out noiselesslyinto the romance of the summer's night. 

II

Next morning, for the first few seconds after he had wakened, he laywondering why he was so happy. Then he remembered. 

He had never had a friendship with a woman. From the start, though hehad hidden the fact from himself, his supposed friendship with Maisiehad been nothing less than lazy courtship. Terry had detected that whenshe had said that he wouldn't have been so interested in Maisie if shehadn't been so desperately good-looking. Until this morning he had hadno faith in such friendships. He had believed that their fundamentalattraction, however well concealed, must always be sex. They could neverbe more than a pretense, in which either the man or the woman wascheating--the one being anxious to give more than friendship, the otherderiving amusement from giving less. He had held that such relationsbetween men and women were inherently dishonest, doomed to end in aclash of desire or to broaden into an honorable love affair. There wasno middle course between coveting a woman and neglecting her as entirelydispensable. 

But this morning his point of view was altered. He was confident thathis interest in Lady Dawn was on an utterly different footing. He hadnever had this peacefulness of feeling for any woman. He marveled at it. He had to fight the disillusion that it might be no more than a mood. His liking for her had come to him so suddenly. Suddenness in theemotions prompted him to distrust. Yet his present contentment seemed assecure as it was incomprehensible. His new affection compensated him forall previous failures and atoned for the humiliation of every pastregret. 

At that word "affection" he halted himself. Was it affection that heentertained for Lady Dawn? He took a good look at the suspected word anddecided that it was. But it was the affection of reverence. In owningthis much he qualified his admission by insisting that his affection wastotally devoid of passion. Passion in the presence of Lady Dawn lookedhysteric and paltry. She inspired a serenity which had nothing to dowith the physical. It was the charm of her character that entranced him. Her body scarcely figured in his thoughts; when it did, it failed tostir him. It was no more than the gracious vehicle through which thebeauty of her spirit was expressed. 

His paramount emotion was gratitude--gratitude that she, who was reputedto be so cold, should so instantly have unveiled herself. There was astartling purity in the frankness with which she had bared her spiritto him. It left him awed and touched. He recognized the generosity whichhad prompted her; she had realized his need of a woman's trust. And soshe had withheld nothing that would comfort him. She had made him feelsafe, the way a mother does. She had picked up the little boy that lieshidden in the heart of every man, and had folded him in her breast. 

It had been shameless of her. He had not guessed that a woman could beso good. 

And she had made him so finally sure of her. He felt that he could leaveher and know that her protection would follow him. He could return andbe equally certain that none of her understanding would have vanished. She was the first woman who had impressed him with her wisdom; the onlyone who had had the courage to offer him her strength. 

And this was not love. He smiled exultantly. It was nobler andinfinitely more rare. Love, as he had read of it and mistaken it in hisexperience, was a devastating energy, greedy and devouring. It was acontinual, nagging contention between self-abasement and hostility. Itwas a humiliating attempt on the part of a man to barter something, which was persistently undervalued, for the feminine equivalent whichwas as persistently hoarded. It was an amalgam of physical yearning, wounded vanity and resentment of contempt. It was egotism masqueradingas altruism. It was a dancing bear lumbering at the heels of insanity. Of all the passions it was the most hypocritical--a snare-setter, adigger of pitfalls, an enemy disguised as one's dearest friend. Hethanked God there was no hint of love in his new-found friendship. Likean outcast fleeing from a storm, he had blundered against the door ofthis woman's charity, had felt it yield beneath his touch, and had foundhimself immersed in the blessedness of instant and unmerited rest. 

Lazily he commenced to dress. From his window he could see the Castle, perched grave and gray against the forehead of the clouds. He wonderedwhether she was up, how she was occupying herself, whether she wasexpecting him? He listened to her voice in the silence of his brain, like the far-away singing of contralto bells. He saw her still face, herslow smiling, the proud, sweet stateliness of her pacing steps. Then histhoughts went back to whether he was expected. 

If he were not---- The thought chilled him. She had said nothing toencourage him to seek her afresh. What if his reappearance should causeher embarrassment--an embarrassment which she would betray bywithholding herself? It was quite likely she would impute to him wrongmotives. Already she might have repented of intimacies she had allowed. He had placed his arm about her. With the injustice of most women, though she had permitted it, she might be blaming him because the acthad been witnessed by Terry. Terry of all persons! Having had time toreflect, she might be accusing him of gallantries. It was not so longsince she had confused him with Adair. From her untypical knowledge ofhim she was entitled to estimate him as the kind of man to whompromiscuous caresses were a practice. He turned coward at therecollection of his daring. Last night it had been so involuntary andhad seemed so natural. Why had he done it? Why had she allowed it? Ithad been the liberty of a plow-boy with a village-girl. There would belittle room for wonder if, when next they met, she fixed a No Man's Landof pride between herself and his familiarity. She would have goodreason, for their companionship would be shared by Terry. Poor littleTerry, with her exaggerated sins and distorted self-accusations!

He wandered down to breakfast disturbed by these apprehensions. As themorning dragged by they took shape as facts. Towards noon he couldtolerate his uncertainty no longer. He turned his steps in the directionof the Castle, having first determined, if he found himself unwelcome, to announce that the purpose of his visit was to bid good-by beforesetting out for London. 

III

He had been shown into the turret room and supplied with the dailypapers, while the same grave image who had admitted him the nightbefore, had departed in search of her Ladyship. More to calm himselfthan to satisfy his curiosity, he commenced to glance through the news. 

It was a disjointed world that the pages reflected--not at all thekingdom round the corner for which the war had been fought. Honor, patriotism, heroism seemed forgotten words. The old ruthless scrambleof commercialism had restarted. The honesty of everybody, whetherindividuals, governments or nations, was being doubted. Class and racehatreds had broken loose. Strikes were pending. The Allies were alliedonly in name; they gnashed their teeth at one another across thecouncil-table in Paris. The lying game of diplomacy had been revived. Poison-notes were being exchanged. The tabby-cat statesmen who had beentoo old to fight, were busy sowing the seeds of future wars. Thepoliticians who had nailed mankind to the cross, were casting lots forthe raiment which had survived the sacrifice. No one asked, "Is thisrighteousness?" The only question was, "How much of it belongs to me?"Meanwhile, the children of honester men who had died, starved by theirhundreds of thousands. Mothers pressed sick babies to their milklessbreasts. The mutilated, stoical with neglect, shuffled along thepavements. Fanatics of despair turned hopeful eyes to Russia where adevilment was brewing which, should it overboil, would pour destructionacross five continents. No one cared. 

He glanced through the window at the quiet landscape, lying green andsun-dappled against the wet, gray streak of summer sky. Was his ownexperience so universal? Were kingdoms perpetually round the corner, always and always out of sight?

As he again took up the paper, his eye was caught by a head-line: STEELYJACK RUNS FOR PARLIAMENT. Immediately he forgot his pessimism andbecame absorbed. Braithwaite had come out with the true story of hislife. He was calling on the seven million men who had seen service tofight on in peace for the ideals for which they had fought in war. Heinsisted that if they cast their votes together as one man, they couldcontrol any election. If they combined with the patriot ex-soldiers ofother nations, they could control the world. He was out to smashpolitics and the disastrous iniquity of political compromise. His aimwas to restore the comradeship and sharing which had enabled the oldfront-line to stand fast. He was establishing a paper. He wasspeechifying. He was to hold an immense mass meeting in the AlbertHall----

Tabs laughed in sheer excitement. Here was one man at any rate whowasn't content to miss his kingdom. He might have known it. He could seeBraithwaite's bleak look as clearly as if he stood before him. Hisinstinct was to join him and say to him, in the words of the coster, "You and me was pals out there. " He'd never lost an inch of trench. 

"Bravo, Braithwaite!"

IV

"I beg your pardon, your Lordship. "

Tabs looked up. The dignified image had returned and was standing in thedoorway, with his chin thrust out and his nose at a high angle with hiscollar. 

The man coughed deferentially. "If your Lordship will follow me----"

But at that moment he heard her calling from beneath the turret wall, "Lord Taborley!"

Jumping to his feet, he hurried to the window and leant out. She was inher riding habit, standing on the terrace above the rose-garden. "I'vejust got back from my morning ride. I have to visit the kennels. I waswondering whether you would accompany me. "

He turned to the footman. "If you'll show me the way out to the terrace, I can find Lady Dawn myself. "

She had moved farther away to where the steps led down between therose-bushes. As he came towards her through the sunlight, she pretendednot to notice him, but stood meditatively flicking the dust from the toeof her boot with her crop. Even when he joined her, she did not look up. They descended the steps in silence. When they had turned along a path, where no one could observe them, she raised her eyes. "I was afraid youhad left. "

He smiled, unconsciously imitating her quietness. "And I, too, wasafraid. I was afraid you would not want me. "

"Why not?" She stopped to pluck a bud in passing. "I should think anywoman would want you. "

He looked to see if she were chaffing. "Last night, " he explained, "youwere present when at least one woman didn't want me. That was why----"

She shot a glance at him with her honest, stone-gray eyes. Her handsstarted out to touch him, but she recalled them. "You must feel sorryfor her, " she said softly. "She's so young. I think you'll live to thankher. She'll learn that men like you don't come every day--only once in alifetime. "

[Illustration: "_I was afraid you had left. _"]

Uneasily he harked back to her first statement. "Why did you fear that Ihad left?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You had nothing for which to stay. "

"There was you. "

"Me!" She laughed wisely. "You had to say that out of politeness. In aman's world I'm of no consequence. I know how I appear in your eyes. I've been married, so I'm no longer a novelty. I'm not so young as Iwas; I shall be older. And then I'm a mother--you forget that, LordTaborley. Oh no, I have no attractions to offer. "

"You have friendship. "

"Friendship!" She repeated the word with a shake of her head. "Men neverwant merely friendship; they want less or more. They want vivacity--someone who will halve their years, with whom they can sport and romp. Someone who can have babies to them--little pink babies, with squirmy toesand baldy heads. They want to begin everything afresh. They're notlooking for another man's left-overs. Even in the matter ofdisillusionizing a woman, they want to do that for themselves. Menwho've not been married, demand that a woman shall be doing everything, as they are doing it, for the first time. It's their right. "

"But there's another side, " he protested. "A woman who's been marriedhas gained experience--the most dearly purchased form of knowledge, asyou yourself have told me. She can be trusted not to expect theimpossible. She's been over the course and knows the pitfalls. She'slearnt the value of compromise. She ought to have learnt how to be kind. I think kindness is the thing that matters most. Few people are bornwith it. You have to have been wretched to acquire the knack of it. "

"And yet you have it, " she glanced sideways at him humorously, "and youhaven't been married. "

Realizing the drift of their conversation, he pulled himself up. Hefeared lest she suspected him of flirting. "You're very generous, LadyDawn. "

They had arrived at a lookout point, where a lichen-covered summerhousestood, protected on the steeper side by a low stone wall. Below them laythe moat, green-scummed and starred with water-lilies; throbbing in themidday haze, the emerald sward of the parkland seemed to float. Againstthe wall she halted. "What makes you say that I'm generous?"

For all his thirty-six years, he blushed like a boy. "Because you takeme seriously. After last night you might have been either amused orannoyed. The position in which I placed you was false. You thought thatI'd come from London to urge Terry to marry me. When I told you thatthere was no one else in the world, you believed that I knew she wasstaying with you--that I was trying to persuade you to plead my cause. The anti-climax, after she'd surprised us, was the height of tragicalabsurdity. It reduced all my high-flown sentiments to farce. I wonderyou were able to prevent yourself from laughing. Terry could afford sucha scene; she's little more than a child. I can't. With four more yearsto my age I could pass for her father. No, please. I want to be hard onmyself. Let me finish what I'm saying. I've only met you twice; on eachoccasion I've suffered a loss of dignity. The other time was when Itried to turn you away from Maisie's door. You're probably aware thatsince then, until Pollock's return, I've seen far more of your sisterthan was wise. In fact I've offered myself like a job lot. And yet therewas a time when I was content to wait. I believed that one had only tobe faithful and he'd find what he hoped for round some future corner. You're a proud woman, Lady Dawn. You admire strength almost cruelly. You're inhumanly infallible----"

Her eyes filled. She slipped her hand through his arm and patted itcomfortingly. By the contact she was comforting herself as well. "I'mnot. I wasn't infallible when I married. My pride came later to cover upmy fault. I don't say it to flatter you--any woman would want you. "

He gazed down at her. "How gentle you are!"

"I understand. "

They strolled along in contented silence. They had trespassed far beyondthe bounds of discretion. A diversion was caused when they reached thekennels. He watched her among the leaping hounds. She employed the sametactics to quiet them that she had used with himself. With a coaxingword and a caress she had them crouching at her feet. He listened tothe precision of her orders and the definiteness of her enquiries. 

"You'd have made a business woman, " he remarked. 

She laughed. "I could if I'd been forced. " And then, "By the way, you'relunching with me, aren't you?"

"I'll be delighted. But, since confessions are the fashion, I may aswell make a clean breast. If I had found that you were upset with whathappened last night, I'd planned to tell you I was off to London. "

"But you're not?"

"One doesn't run away from happiness. "

He was afraid he had offended. Her expression clouded. She withdrew andwalked a few paces apart. He had come almost to the point ofapologizing, when she turned to him eyes that were misty--suspiciouslymisty for a woman who never cried. "I'm glad you had the courage to tellme, because I haven't felt so happy for---- I daren't own how long. "

On entering the Castle, she left him while she went to change for lunch. As he waited, he reminded himself that in a handful of seconds he wouldbe meeting Terry. The anticipation provided him with none of the oldelation. With what ecstasy he used to watch for her in days gone by, asthough the world was reborn when she stood before him! Far from feelingecstasy, he was filled with uneasiness. Her presence would recall to himhis failure and would mock something beautiful that had commenced inhis life. What that something was he hadn't estimated. All he knew wasthat, with the coming of Lady Dawn, every one of his problems hadmysteriously found settlement. He was no longer humiliated. He was oncemore sure of his direction. He felt unreasonably strong and triumphant, as though the goal of his striving was in sight. His old dread ofgrowing middle-aged impressed him as puerile. Whatever his age, shewould always keep pace with him. She was the same age as he was. Had hebeen younger or older, he might have missed her or gone by her withunseeing eyes. 

When he entered the room in which lunch was served, he found that LadyDawn was alone. Glancing at the table, he perceived with surprise thatonly two covers had been laid. She read the question in his eyes andanswered it. 

"Terry's away. I forgot to tell you. She had an early breakfast andmotored into Gloucester before I was up. The car's come back withouther. She's sent no word as to when or how she proposes to return. "

"Something urgent?" he asked casually. 

"More likely shopping. A woman's shopping's always urgent. I'm no wiserthan you are. The first I heard about her going was when I was informedshe had gone. "

He relapsed into thought. It wasn't difficult to conjecture the reasonfor Terry's errand. She'd been no more anxious to meet him just atpresent than he had been to meet her. She'd taken the day off in thehope that by nightfall he would have departed. 

Another solution occurred to him. "Did she ever mention to you a GeneralBraithwaite?"

Lady Dawn met his eyes with a hint of warning. Listeners were present. "I believe she did, " she admitted discouragingly. 

"The only reason why I asked was that his name's in the morning papers. She may have seen it before she started. If so, it might explain----"

"John will know. " Lady Dawn turned to the footman. "Did Miss Beddow readthe papers, John, this morning before she left?"

"She did, my Lady. It was after she had read them that she ordered thecar. "

"Then that's it. " Tabs dismissed the subject as unworthy of furtherdiscussing. "She went to Gloucester to hurry off a telegram ofcongratulation. Braithwaite's had a stroke of luck. "

"If that is all, " Lady Dawn smiled mischievously, "I wonder that shedidn't come back in the car. A telegram can be dispatched in fiveminutes. "

From then on, the threat of Terry's return hung over them, urging themto make the most of their respite. Everything that had started betweenthem was so new and uncertain. No time-limit had been set to Tabs'visit; his original reason for coming to Dawn Castle was exhausted. There was no sufficiently plausible excuse for prolonging his stay inthe village longer. A little absence, a little carelessness offorgetting, a few new interests and who could say but that this suddenneed of each other, which had rushed them together with such compellingimpulse, might not subside as unaccountably as it had occurred. In boththeir hearts this dread was present--this distrust of the permanency oftheir emotions. If they parted, they might meet again to find the magicirrecoverable. 

After lunch they retired to the room in the turret. She chose herfavorite chair by the window and sat there sewing, with her work-basketat her feet. He sat opposite, watching the busy occupation of her hands. He noticed that many of the garments which she mended belonged to thesmall boy whom he had seen in the rose-garden. 

She looked up. "I always do everything for Eric. "

It was later, when tea was being served, that the small boy himselfpeered in on them. Tabs caught his jealous eyes peering round thedoorway. "Won't you come and talk to me?"

But the child ran away, despite his mother's coaxings, and refused todivulge his place of hiding. 

She apologized. "He's not quite eight yet--the only sweetheart I have. "Later she said, "I've been thinking of what we talked last night--I meanhis father. Would it be too far-fetched to believe that it was really heand not your imagination, that piloted us together?"

"Not far-fetched at all. I'm sure of it. He wanted us to meet that Imight tell you----"

"What?" She bent forward, folding her hands in her lap and watching himsearchingly. "Not about his heroism; he'd take that for granted. Notthat he'd loved me; we both knew it. Not anything self-pitying or weakthat would rouse my regret----"

"You know. " His assertion was almost a question. "Somehow he's got hismessage across to you. "

She lowered her eyes and resumed her sewing. "I couldn't sleep lastnight. I lay awake puzzling and remembering--remembering the long wasteof years, the loneliness and the love that had turned to bitterness. Andnow, when ordinarily there would be no chance to make amends, he sendsyou to me, speaking through your lips and taking possession of yourthoughts. He's trying to do something for me--something that will blotout my past for me, as his sacrifice has blotted out his past for him. Something comforting and tender----"

The seconds ticked by. If she had guessed the dead man's desire, sherefused to put it into words. The silence grew painful. 

Tabs looked at his watch. It was nearer six than five. He rosereluctantly. "I suppose I should be going. "

"But you're staying in the village to-night?"

"I hadn't intended. There'll be moonlight. I was planning to be inLondon by morning. "

"Don't do that. You'll make me think you're afraid of meeting Terry. Dine with me to-night. "

She had risen. Her gesture was almost one of pleading. He smiledtenderly and took her hand. "Your wishes are mine. I'll run down to theinn and dress. "

By the time he returned it was nearly seven. She met him withill-concealed trouble. "Terry's not back. It's strange. You see I'mresponsible for her. And----"

The footman entered with a letter. "For your Lordship. "

"Are you sure?" Then Tabs recollected. "Yes, of course. I left myaddress with Ann. "

As he took the letter he scanned the handwriting. "Odd!" When the manhad left, he turned to Lady Dawn. "It's from her. Did you guess?"

V

"But why should she be writing when she'll be seeing you any minute?"

Tabs squared his lips. He began to feel the stirring of a storm ofanxiety. "Perhaps, because she doesn't intend to be seeing me anyminute. " He looked at the postmark. It had been mailed at eleven o'clockthat morning in Gloucester. He tore the envelope and commenced to read. Before he had read far, he turned with a worried expression to LadyDawn. "This concerns you as well. " She came and stood beside his elbow. They glanced through the pages together. It was written on commercialnote-paper of _The New Inn_, Gloucester, and ran:

 DEAREST TABS:

 I love you very much--just as much as ever. I always want you to feel sure of that. But my love isn't the kind you've asked for. It never can be. Because of this there are so many things that I've not been able to tell you--so I've been avoiding and deceiving you ever since you came back. I know I've not been honorable. A promise once given ought to be sacred; I gave you my promise that I would marry you. But that's all I could do for you now--just marry you; I couldn't give you the other things you would have a right to expect. I ought to have said, the other things you have earned and deserved more than any man. So, though I married you, I should still be robbing you, which would be even more treacherous than not fulfilling a promise. 

 That I'm in love with General Braithwaite is no news to you. Love may not be the proper word. At least I'm so infatuated with him that there's no room in my heart for any other man. Do you remember that night in March, when you dined with us and asked my father for my hand, and next morning early I came round in a panic to your house? I didn't dare tell you all my trouble. The General had urged me to elope with him. I _wish, wish, wish_ that I had. I should be his now and sure of him. By delaying and suspecting I've all but lost him. 

 I always knew that he would be a big man--as big after the war as he was while it lasted. What this morning's papers say about him proves it. So for all these reasons and because I can't bear to face you at the Castle, I'm taking my fate in my hands. Please tell Lady Dawn that I shan't be back and excuse me in any way you can. I'm only carrying one small bag; she can send the rest of my things after me. 

 There's one request I have to make--that neither of you will notify my father till at least twenty-four hours have elapsed. All my future happiness may depend on your granting this request. It's the last favor I shall ever ask you. 

 And now, my very dear Tabs, almost my brother, if this hurts you, please take revenge by bundling me out of your mind. I was never your equal, never worthy of you, though you placed me on a pedestal that was far above you. Comfort yourself by believing that if you'd married me, you would have found this out. What a wretched quitter I appear in my own eyes after all you suffered in the trenches, to have reserved this worse suffering for you, when your life has been spared and you had counted on me for happiness. My entire body's not worth your little finger. And yet how good you've always been to me--

 You'll get a better woman than I am. I think I already know who she'll be; if I'm right, I shall be so very glad. 

 I feel so humble--so apologetic. It's such a different ending from the one we dreamt when I saw you off on the troop-train with my hair all blowy down my back. There's nothing gained by recalling that. I meant so well by you; you've always been so much to me, my dearest, loyal Tabs. 

 Even though you despise me, I still insist on signing myself, Your ever affectionate

 TERRY. 

"I'm sorry. " It was Lady Dawn. 

He shook himself. He was so raw that even her sympathy almost wounded. "Don't pity me. It's she we've got to help. What's to be done?"

"Done! I haven't thought. What can we----"

"We can follow her and bring her back. We've got to--and we haven't muchtime. You must have read between the lines what her letter meant. Afterhaving turned Braithwaite down, she's gone off to beg him to elope withher. When a girl puts herself at a man's mercy like that, there's noknowing how he'll act. The chances are that, whatever he does, it won'tbe honorable. We're got to prevent her, not only for her own sake, butfor his sake as well. He's just started on a great career; if this storyleaks out, he'll be smashed. They'll both be smashed, for that matter. If she'd give him time to marry her honestly, it wouldn't matter whetherher family had consented. But she doesn't intend to--that's why she'sasked us to keep quiet for twenty-four hours. What we've got to do isnot to stop her from marrying him--no one cares about that; but to catchher before she runs off with him. "

"But we don't know where----"

"No, we don't. " He spoke rapidly. "But we can find out. Ann can tell us. Ann's a maid in my house; she was practically engaged to him when he wasmy valet. Now that I look back, I'm sure she's known everything from thestart and has seen this coming. We can get Braithwaite's address fromher; when we know that, we shall have laid our hands on Terry. "

While he had been speaking, Lady Dawn had been rummaging through herdesk. He went and bent over her, his hands on her shoulders. She wasfingering a time-table. She looked up at him with her head leant back. "There's no train--nothing that will reach London till morning. "

"Then we must motor. "

Her face was still raised to his. She spoke softly. "_We!_ You say _we_every time. Do you mean---- What do you mean, Lord Taborley?"

His intensity relaxed. Flushing with confusion, he stared down at thewhiteness of her breast, the queenliness of her, her graying hair andher expectant, tender mouth. "I want you to come with me. I ought tohave asked you properly. I've been taking you for granted and orderingyou about. "

She remained very still, gazing directly up into his troubled eyes. Hethought she was judging him. At last she whispered, "Don't be sad. Ilike you to order me. "

VI

They had all night before them. If they left the Castle by ten, theycould be in Brompton Square by five in the morning. Nothing would begained by arriving earlier. 

Now that the first shock was over, they went into dinner as if nothinghad happened. In the long, dim banqueting-hall there were only the twoof them. They sat close together at the illuminated high-table likecastaways, marooned on an island, in an ocean of brooding shadows. Whilethey dined they conversed in lowered voices to prevent their plans frombeing overheard. It was decided to take Lady Dawn's Rolls Royce and toleave the runabout behind. The reason acknowledged was that it would bemore dependable. The reason unmentioned was that the presence of achauffeur would lend an air of much needed propriety. 

Gradually as they talked, the seriousness of their errand dropped fromsight; their journey took on the complexion of an adventure. Itsunconvention clothed it with romance. How unconventional it was theyrealized when Lady Dawn gave the butler orders concerning her departure. He was an old man, rigid with tradition, who, having served the familyfor three generations, had acquired the aristocratic bearing of hismasters. 

"At ten o'clock, your Ladyship. To where? To London! That's a longjourney to take at night. And the car will call at the inn first to pickup his Lordship's luggage. Oh, I see, my Lady. I thought at first thatyour Ladyship was going. "

"I am, " she corrected with quiet dignity. "Lord Taborley and I are goingon an errand of great importance. I don't want this talked about. Youunderstand? And who'll be driving? Witherall! Then warn Witherall tokeep silent. "

When the butler had withdrawn, she turned to Tabs. "I'm breaking all myprecedents for you. I couldn't have told him, if I hadn't had you tokeep me in countenance. He looked so shocked that he made me feel as ifit were you and I, instead of Terry, who were doing the eloping. I'msure that's what he thought. There'll be gossip. I shall have to pay thepiper; but I'm too happy to-night to look ahead. "

"It hadn't occurred to me----" Tabs hesitated. "I've been unpardonablyinconsiderate. I see it now--you'll be what they call compromised. Inthat case, it will be wiser----"

"It won't. " She bent towards him laughing. Her pearls, nestling in thewhite cleft of her bosom, gleamed dully, shaken by her quiet merriment. In the short time that he had known her, she had become extraordinarilygirlish--almost girlish enough to put back the hands of time for theproper man. "It won't. It won't be wiser. It's never wiser to turn yourback on happiness. I'd dare anything to-night. You've invited me; youcan't wriggle out. "

"If that's how you feel----" He checked himself. Her mischief warnedhim. Instinctively he knew that she was about to ask precisely how hethought she felt. He cancelled what he had intended saying andsubstituted, "It's an ill-wind that blows nobody any good. And it's poorTerry we have to thank for this chance of being together a littlelonger!"

"Is it a chance? You're not bored? You do want me?"

He raised his eyes slowly. Her pain had startled him. Up to that momenthe hadn't been awake to how utterly he had come to want her. For aninstant he had a glimpse of the emptiness of life, should he findhimself deprived of her comradeship. 

"You didn't need to ask me that!" he said quietly. "And now it's my turnto be inquisitive. Does it make you glad to hear me own that I wantyou?"

He watched her color rise. It was like the elfin tiptoeing of her spiritbehind the white transparent walls of her flesh. It climbed the smoothascent of her breast, passed up the columned tower of her throat andstared out at him excitedly in the brightness of her eyes. 

"Men don't ask things like that, " she said reproachfully, "at least, only when they're flirting. I sometimes think---- Don't treat me likeall the others who were before me. "

"What others?"

She held his gaze. "The emotional women and silly girls---- You musthave been loved very often, Lord Taborley. "

To have defended himself against her tender jealousy would have beenfutile. She was plainly anxious to believe her accusation. Perhaps itflattered her a little. Perhaps it lent him an added touch of glamor. Hewas wondering how he should satisfy her. He could remember no heartsthat his fascination had broken. He could rake up absolutely---- She wasspeaking again. 

"And yet I'm glad you compelled me to tell you that I wanted you. You'remaking me do things that I never did before in my life. I'm supposed tobe a cold woman. You'll find people who'll say that I'm remote anddomineering. I've only one big affection--my little boy. For your sakeI'm leaving him alone to-night. "

"For mine?"

"For whose else?"

"I thought for Terry's. "

Her lips parted. The laughter died in her eyes. "In your heart you knewbetter. "

Then he left her and went down to the inn to pack his bag. 

VII

He had paid his bill. His luggage had been carried downstairs. There wasstill a full quarter of an hour to wait. He sat in his bedroom smokingfuriously. Before he met her again, he wanted to know precisely what hadhappened to himself--and, perhaps, to her. 

He was filled with self-distrust. His newly discovered propensity forfalling in love was genuinely alarming. It wasted his time, upset hisplans and robbed him of his mental vigor. It made him a rudderless shipat the mercy of any chance winds of sentiment. Up to less than threemonths ago the solitary woman in his life had been Terry. Throughout thewar, while the masculine world had been making an amorous idiot ofitself, he had kept his head clear and gone straight. Things had come toa pretty pass if now, when normality was returning and the excuse forrunning wild was out-of-date, he should start on his emotionalescapades. His love for Terry had been deep-rooted. His fondness forMaisie had been the attempt of a starved heart to satisfy its cravingwith a substitute. But where was this pursuit of substitutes to end? Ifit went much further he would gain for himself the reputation of being alimpet who attached himself to any chance rock of feminine amiability. The kind of woman he cared to associate with would avoid him. If ever hewere to fall in love again, his attentions would be so shop-wornthat----

If ever he were to fall in love again! Within the last twenty-four hourshis irresponsible heart had committed this disastrous folly for a thirdtime. 

He smiled cynically, as though he were two separate persons, one of whomwas cool and calculating, while the other was improvident andscape-grace. How Lady Dawn would despise him, were he to reveal to herthe stupid commotion of his mind! His excuse for blundering his way intoher privacy had been sufficiently fantastic: that her late husband wasemploying his living brain to communicate with her from the dead. Itmust have strained her credulity to the breaking-point. If on top ofthis he were to propose to her, what possible conclusions could shedraw? Either that in order to gain her intimacy, he had perpetrated acruel fraud; or else that he was so lacking in humor as to believe thatLord Dawn, from beyond the grave, was arranging for his wife's secondmarriage. The drollery of a dead husband acting match-maker made himsmile. In the middle of his smiling he pulled himself up. Why not? Whyshouldn't a husband who had wrecked his wife's happiness, try to repairthe damage, if that were possible, when through death he had attained akinder knowledge? The Roman Church prayed to the dead whom it canonized. There were thousands of parents, wives, sweethearts, bereft by the war, who were asserting that their longing had bridged the gulf andpenetrated----

He shook himself, as though to struggle free from an invisibleassailant. Hallucinations! All these so-called spiritualisticmanifestations were the result of over-taxed imagination. To stick tofacts was the only safe course; and these were the facts in his case. Hehad approached Lady Dawn as a matter of duty to tell her the truth abouta husband whom she had not known at his best. She had misinterpreted hismotive and had believed that he had come to confess to her his ownfailure. She had been thrown off her guard, had dropped her mask ofstoicism and had lavished on him a reckless kindness. But other womenhad been reckless to him in their kindness. Terry had: so had Maisie. Women's kindness had caused his present predicament--their kindness, plus his awkward knack of valuing their kindness at more than its faceworth. He had learnt his lesson. Never again would he be lured into thenet of feminine fickleness. When he felt the temptation rising, he wouldsuppress and ignore it; at any rate he would ignore it until the woman, who was rousing his affection, had declared her intentions beyond anychance of mistaking. 

And Lady Dawn? She was in a class by herself. He held her sacred. Themere thought that she should ever fall in love with him wasimpertinence. To talk cheap sentiment would be insulting. It would causehim to lose her friendship--a loss which he could not bear tocontemplate. It would be taking a mean advantage of a situation createdfor an entirely different purpose. ---- And yet, dare he trust himself, now that he was in love with her, in the intimate aloneness of a longnight drive to London?

He rose to his feet disgusted. If this was the loss of self-control thatpeace had brought, better a thousand times the rigors of the sacrificethat was ended. Out there he had been strong; here he was a sick dog, licking his sores and whimpering at his own shadow. Self-pity hadwrought this wholesale impotence--an impotence which was infecting theentire world. While individuals and nations had thought only of others, they had been valiant; they had raced in generous competition, clean-limbed as athletes, towards the tape, where endeavor ends andeternity commences. And now this lethargy, this cowardice--thismonstrous fat of quaking emotion!

A memory flashed back on him--an afternoon in March when he had beenobsessed by a similar discontent. It had happened in the Mall, after hisinterview with Braithwaite and just before his introduction to Maisie. He had come across a sign-board which had announced that, by following acertain path, one would arrive at the Passport Office. That narrowtrack, vanishing into the bushy greenness, had seemed to him the firstfive hundred yards of the road that led to world-wideness and freedom. At the end of it lay Samoa, Tibet, the Malay Archipelago--jeweled seasand painted solitudes which human disillusions could not wither. Instantly his will concentrated. By following that road he could becomelean-souled again. By reseeking hardships, he could recover his lostdiscipline. The idea held him spellbound. It meant escape. It meant areturn to monasticism. Then and there he determined that he wouldcommence his preliminary enquiries to-morrow. 

Going to the window, he leant out. The quaint village street wassleeping. The night was so still that, it scarcely breathed; it lay likea tired child in the firm white arms of the moonlight. Coming smoothlyto a halt before the hostel was a powerful car. It was a landaulet andthe hood was lowered. Lady Dawn must have altered her plans at the lastmoment; instead of sending for him, she had come herself! Catching sightof him, she waved her hand. His heart became quiet. Like the nightwithout, his being was flooded with a drifting whiteness that robbed thedarkness of its terror. 

VIII

As he stood by the side of the car talking to her while his bag wasbeing stowed away, her manner was chillingly conventional. It was soconventional that it bordered on the unfriendly. About theunfriendliness of the chauffeur there could be no doubt. The elaboratecare with which he tucked the robe about her Ladyship had a distinct airof alert possessiveness. 

When Tabs had taken his place beside her and the village was leftbehind, she relaxed and laughed softly. "Such a trouble I've had! Theyall disapproved of our expedition--I mean the servants. Their eyesaccused me of---- Perhaps it's better not to be explicit. But that waswhy I called for you, instead of letting you come to the Castle. Did younotice anything queer about Witherall?"

"Your chauffeur? I thought he rather overdid his superciliousness andthat he treated you a little as if he were your husband. Apart fromthat----"

"Apart from that, " she laughed, "he made you feel entirely welcome. Youmustn't mind him. My servants aren't used to seeing me with an escort. And then---- Well, an all-night ride would be a little difficult toexplain to anybody. "

"I suppose it would. "

They relapsed into silence. It was jolly to be so near to her and, after the fears he had had, to know himself so trusted. She sat quiteclose to him, so that he could feel the warmth of her body. Hershoulders touched him; sometimes she leant against him with a gentlepressure. Her fragrance was all about him. The robe spread across theirknees gave an added touch of intimacy. He glanced down at her sideways. She was wearing a moleskin coat with a deep collar of silver-fox. Shehad on a moleskin hat, close fitting to her glossy head. Her face waspartly hidden by a smart veil. She was immaculate as ever--as composedand stylish as if she were going to a theater-party instead of on anall-night ride to London. But it wasn't her stylishness that impressedhim; it was her littleness. She looked very tender and pale as she satbeside him. The moral back of her chauffeur, as seen through the glass, condemned him of unkindness. He had had no right to ask her to accompanyhim. Why should he have burdened her with his troubles? She must haveplenty of her own, with her boy to care for and her estate to manage. 

"I've been selfish, " he said. "You ought to be in bed and sleeping now. "

She smiled. "Always blaming yourself, aren't you? I shouldn't be hereunless I'd wanted. "

"But why did you want?"

Beneath the robe her hand commenced to grope. It stole into his own andlay there quietly. "Because I couldn't bear to see you hurt. You're sogood. In some ways you're so strong; in others you're just as tiny asmy Eric. I felt you needed me for the moment. "

"For the moment! I shall always need you. "

"I wish you might. " She shook her head slowly. "But you won't. You'll goaway. I shall hear about you--all the big things you're accomplishingand planning. And then I shall remember that for just one night I hadyou for my very own. "

"But we're always going to be friends. I shall be always coming back toyou. "

"Men don't come back, Lord Taborley. A man of your temperament is leastlikely to come back. You press forward. You're eager. Wherever you goyou form new affections. I'm not like that. I'm cold. You don't thinkso, but then I'm treating you as I never treated any other man. Youslipped under my reserve and reached my heart before I could stop you. Do you know how I'm treating you? Just the way I'd like some good womanto treat my little Eric one day, when I'm not here and he's a man. "

"But you're going to be here for a long time--just as long as I am. "There was alarm in his assertion. "I couldn't bear to think of your notbeing in the world. It wouldn't matter so much whether I saw you; itwould be the knowledge that I could see you; that would make all thedifference. "

"Would it?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You mustn't think that because there was Terry and--I'mashamed to have to own it--a passing fancy for your sister, that I'mfickle. "

"I don't. I never thought it for a moment. What I thought was that youwere unhappy. People do a lot of foolish things when they're unhappy. "

"It seems so long since I was unhappy, " he said gently. "You've healedeverything. "

She was shaken as though with a storm of sobbing. No sound escaped her. She did a thing which was as amazing as it was beautiful. Raising hishand which she had been holding, she hugged it against her breast. 

IX

During the night he nodded. Once when he wakened, he found her tuckingthe robe more closely about him. "Go to sleep. You're tired, " shewhispered, patting his shoulder. 

A strange woman--strangely maternal and beautiful! She never seemed tothink of herself. The women whom he had known had always demanded thatmen should do all the giving. Even Terry had been like that. Hisconception, of love had been of a continual bestowing with no hope ofreciprocity. To be allowed to give throughout one's life to the womanbeloved had seemed to him to be the maximum of married blessedness. Heknew better now. Lady Dawn had given so generously that she hadestablished a new standard; he would never again ask so little from anywoman. He began to perceive that all his approaches to love had beenself-abasing. In the true sense of the word he had never been in love. Dream-intoxicated, yes! But all that he had experienced had been desire. It was a new thought to him that a man must respect, even more than hedesires, the woman whom he covets. 

His feeling for Lady Dawn was one of worship. When he wakened to findher watching over him, it seemed to him that the Mother of God satbeside him. When God's Mother is symbolized in a living woman, love isreborn into the world. 

The last time he awoke, dawn was breaking. The moon had grown feeble. Achill was in the air. He sat up. "What! Still awake! I don't believeyou've slept a wink all night. "

"I haven't. I didn't want. I've been enjoying myself. "

"You look tired. "

He commenced to pile cushions behind her and tried to coax her to takesome rest. "If you insist, " she assented. "But I'd much rather not. I'mlike a child at a party; I want to last out every moment. "

"Then let's talk. We're nearing London. We sha'n't get much chance forbeing alone after we arrive. We don't know what we'll find. We may bewhisked away in opposite directions. Before we're separated, I want toacknowledge what I owe you. "

"It's cold, " she shuddered, drawing closer to him. And then, "You owe menothing. "

He was tempted to place his arm about her, but the cowardice of pastfailure was strong upon him. He was afraid lest the ordinary gestures ofaffection would cheapen him in her eyes; he was still more afraid thatthey might mean to her that he valued her too lightly. He held himselfin hand, staring straight before him and speaking quietly. 

"I'm the only judge of what I owe you. I came to you broken. Life hadmade a fool of me. I'd fallen through placing my ideals too high. Everything was slipping. Every belief I'd ever had was open to doubt. Most of all I'd lost faith in the goodness of women. To explain my stateof mind I have to tell you that the war had made me fanatical. Likemillions of men who went out to die, I'd persuaded myself that I wasfighting more than Germans--I was fighting to bring about the new heavenand the new earth. Our politicians promised us as much. You remembertheir phrases. 'A world safe for democracy! A land fit for heroes tolive in. ' When all the muck and the heartbreak were ended, we found thatoutwardly it was the same old world. Heaven was as far away as ever. There were no signs that any one wanted a new earth. Nations which hadbeen comrades, began to wrangle. Soldiers came home to find their jobsheld by slackers. The glorious promises had been a death-bed repentance;their insincerity was proved when the world recovered. But our worstdisappointment was utterly personal--that despite the magnanimity we hadshared and witnessed, we ourselves were no less selfish. For me allthese disillusions were epitomized in Terry. I'd fought for her. I'dcarried her in my heart. If I'd died, my last thoughts would have beenof her. I came back hungry and she disowned me. That she should havedone that made humanity a Judas and God a mocker. I don't mean you tobelieve that I gave way at once to this wholesale injustice. At first Imade an effort to struggle against it. I'd always held that great livingwas a matter of pressing forward, of wearing an air of triumph when youknew you were defeated, of believing, in spite of every proof to thecontrary, that further up the road your kingdom waited for you. "

He felt the pressure of her friendly hand. "It does, " she assured him. "That's what you've taught me. It's what you taught Maisie; it's almostas though you'd willed her husband to come back. You're a greatbeliever. All great believers have been doubters. They give away so muchof their faith that at times they have none left for themselves. Youlimp. Don't flinch; with me there's no need to be sensitive. When youentered my room for the first time, you made me think of another lameman. Do you remember how Jacob wrestled all night with an unknownassailant? When dawn was breaking his thigh was out of joint, but herefused to let his assailant go until he had asked his name. Thestranger would not tell him--instead he blessed him. And then Jacob knewit was with God he had wrestled. When the sun rose and he went upon hisway, he halted upon his thigh. You have the look that I think he musthave had--the look of a man who has been maimed in trying to make Godanswer questions. It's that look and your very lameness that have givenme back something that Lord Dawn took from me--something that he knew, when he sent you, you could give me back: my faith in men, withoutwhich a woman can have no happiness. "

The ghostly world streamed by, silent-footed and mist-muffled. It wasthe hour when children are born and weary people die--the hour of newbeginnings and ancient endings, when life and death, like soldierschanging guard, salute at the cross-roads of the new day as friends. 

At last he broke the silence. "I thought I had nothing to give you. Ifelt so empty. You seemed so strong and immovable, like a still tree ina forest that was storm-shaken. You made me feel that however the windraged, beneath your branches there would be always rest. I neverknew----" He paused as though he had forgotten what he had set out tosay. "I never guessed that a woman could be so good. "

"Nor I that there was so good a man. "

They clasped hands so tightly that it hurt. The sun was rising as theyentered London. Trees dripped gold and birds were chattering as theydrove into Brompton Square. It was only when they had halted before thesleeping house, gay with flaming window-boxes, that she released hishand. With the severance of contact he awoke from his trance andremembered the errand that had brought them. 

X

He had opened the door with his latch-key and had stood aside to allowher to pass into the hall, when suddenly he clutched her arm and drewher back. He signed to her to make no sound. Together they stoodlistening. The early morning stillness was broken by a door shuttingsmartly at the top of the house, a cheerful whistling and then theunmistakeably firm step of a man descending. 

Tabs had no man in his employ, so what was a man doing in his house?There was no secretiveness about the stranger's movements; on thecontrary, there was an airy boldness. 

The sunlight danced and nickered on the wall as if it shared theexcitement of their suspense. The footsteps drew nearer. They pauseddramatically. The whistling ceased abruptly. Had the stranger takenwarning? A match was struck. He was only lighting a cigarette. Thefootsteps came on again. At the final bend of the stairs the intrudercame in sight. He halted, mirroring their surprise, and stood staringdown at them with a bleak, hard look. He was the man whom they had leastexpected. 

Tabs was the first to collect himself. He closed the front door behindhim. "Good morning, General. You couldn't have been more prompt if wehad telegraphed you that we were coming. " When Braithwaite still stared, Tabs continued, "Allow me to introduce you to Lady Dawn and may I askhow long I have had you as my guest?"

Braithwaite drew a puff at his cigarette. His manner was as haughty asif he had been the owner of the house. "Since last night, " he said. "Ihave to thank your Lordship for a bed. Mrs. Braithwaite----" A gleam ofamusement shot into his eyes. "Mrs. Braithwaite had a sentiment forspending her first night beneath your roof. Seeing that you were awayand that I was so newly wedded"--he made an eloquent gesture--"I couldscarcely deny her. " Turning on his heel, he commenced to reascend. Across his shoulder he flung back, "Of course I apologize. We'll nottrespass further. In a few minutes I'll have her dressed. In half anhour, at the outside, I'll remove her. "

"Don't be a fool. " Tabs spoke sharply. "You make me wonder which of usis mad. "

Braithwaite regarded him for a moment with an enigmatic smile. "I'm not. Yesterday I did the wisest thing of my life. " With that he vanished. 

Lady Dawn turned to Tabs gently. "If that's the way he feels, then hehas. Terry's to be congratulated. "

"But why on earth should she have wanted to spend her marriage-night inmy house?" Tabs questioned. "My house of all inappropriate places!That's what I can't understand. And what could Ann have been doing toconsent? You remember I told you there was a time when he waspractically engaged to Ann. "

They mounted the stairs till they came to the first landing. Enteringthe library, with its bright red lacquer, they sat down to await events. But Tabs did not sit long; he was too restless. Having flung wide theFrench windows which opened out on to the veranda, he kept going to thedoorway to listen. 

He glanced at his wrist-watch. "Barely six o'clock! Upon my word, Idon't relish the idea of her being disturbed. Braithwaite's such ahot-head. For all I care, they can stop here as long as they like. I'lltake a holiday so as not to embarrass them. " He faced Lady Dawn withtroubled frankness. "The question is: _are_ they married? I've beentrying to figure things out. They simply can't be unless he met her witha special license in Gloucester. And even then, I can't see how---- Butif they're not married, surely he would never have had the audacity tobring her to my house. It would be too preposterous--to the house of aman to whom she was engaged, where she would be waited on by a womanwith whom he was once in love. "

At that moment Ann entered, pretty and sleepy-eyed, with Braithwaitefollowing close behind. Tabs commenced speaking at once, in order thathe might put them at their ease as regards his intentions. 

"We're not here to blame any one. You, General, evidently think that I'mhostile. I'm not. As far as you're concerned, Ann, whatever you've doneis right. Of course I'm a little taken aback to find that my house waschosen for the honeymoon. But if you'd like to have the use of it for aweek or so and Ann doesn't object, I'll clear out and leave you toyourselves. You'll make me really happy if you'll accept the offer;it'll be a proof of friendliness. You're wondering why we surprised youso early. It wasn't to prevent you from marrying. It was because LadyDawn was responsible for Terry and we felt that a runaway match, withthe marriage announced after the event, might damage not only her butyou, General, as well. I read yesterday in the papers of what you'redoing and I want to say just this to you. You're the better man. Youdeserved to win. Last time we met you refused to shake my hand. I hopeyou'll take it now. You can afford to be magnanimous to a rival, nowthat you're Terry's husband. "

Tabs stood with his hand held out. Braithwaite made no motion to acceptit; and yet his expression was generous. "I can't shake your hand asTerry's husband, Lord Taborley. I'm not married to her. "

Lady Dawn sprang to her feet and came between the two tall men. "Notmarried to her! But you intend to marry her? You told us you weremarried. "

Braithwaite was still smiling. "I am. " To their amazement he slipped hisarm about Ann and kissed her sleepy, tender mouth. "Terry is safe withyour Ladyship's sister. We took her there when she arrived last night. "

He turned to Tabs. "You said that I was the better man. I'm not. It wasyour sense of duty that always urged me. I have to thank your Lordshipfor the greatest happiness that can befall any man. You made me see itas my greatest happiness, when I was in danger of becoming a cad. Therewas one thing you said to me that sank into my mind. 'You'll neversucceed, however great your courage, unless you start with your honorsolvent. ' You saved my honor. I didn't like your methods. But I thankyou with all my heart now. If it hadn't been for you, neither Ann nor Iwould have come safely to our journey's end. I think we'd both like toshake your hand. "

XI

It was two hours later. They were finishing their breakfast in the open, on the balcony of the Hyde Park Hotel. From where they sat they couldwatch a lawn-mower traveling slowly back and forth, patterning the swardwith alternate stripes of different colored greenness. They could smellthe acrid juices of newly cut grass. Beyond the islands of flowers andvivid candelabra of trees, they could see the wild fowl of theSerpentine rise and drift like phantoms across the sultry stretch ofblueness. Wheels of a water-cart grumbled sleepily against the gravel. Moving through the sunlit shadows of the Row, riders were returning fromtheir early morning gallop. 

They were still together--just the two of them. They were romanticallyself-conscious of the domestic appearance which their twoness caused. Only married couples or very ardent lovers rise, while the lazy world issleeping, to keep each other company at breakfast. They had not had theheart to disturb the General and Ann in their temporary possession ofthe little nest-like house. 

Lady Dawn was speaking. "So you've done it again. "

"What have I done?"

"What you did for Maisie. How did you put it last night? You've led themto their kingdom. "

He smiled. "I seem to have a faculty for doing that. I do for otherswhat I can't do for myself. "

Still not looking at him, she said: "Perhaps you don't find your ownkingdom because you're too much in love with the search. You don't wantto bring your journey to an end. There are people like that. "

"I'm not one of them. --I wish you'd look at me, Lady Dawn. Do you knowwhat I covet most in all the world? Rest and certainty. I don't mean alazy kind of rest, but the rest of a mind at peace with itself--thecertainty we all had while the war was on, when we were adventuring forthe advantage of other people. I've done nothing lately that wasn't formyself. I want some one to live for, so that I can forget myself. I'vebeen thinking----"

The waiter presented the bill. Tabs scarcely knew whether to curse orbless. He had been approaching the danger-mark; nevertheless, he wasn'tat all sure that he was grateful for the interruption. His heart criedout to him to risk humiliation by one last act of daring. Experiencewarned him that it is the sins of precaution--the follies leftuncommitted--that are most regretted by men of seventy. 

She rose as he was gathering up his change. The purpose that had broughtthem to London was ended. There was no further reason for their beingtogether. If they were to prolong their companionship, a new excuse mustbe invented. He saw by the tentative manner in which she waited, thatshe also had realized that. He became perturbed lest she might dismisshim. Speaking hurriedly to forestall her, he said, "I suppose we hadbetter make sure of Terry by hunting her up at Mulberry Tree Court. "

She barely nodded. Perhaps she thought, now that Braithwaite had beeneliminated as a rival, that this making sure of Terry betokened arekindling of the old infatuation. A constraint grew up between them. Itwas not until they were standing on the top of the hotel steps, waitingfor her car, that he ventured to correct the wrong impression. "Funnyabout Terry! If it hadn't been for her, we might never have beenfriends. The first day of my home-coming she drew my attention to you;it was too late--you had passed. You were driving with the Queen in thePark. I remember what Terry said. She called you Di and spoke of you asthe most beautiful woman in England. "

She gave no sign that she had heard. As though she were unescorted, shepassed before him down the steps. But the moment they were seated in thecar, she turned to him. She looked her full age. Her face was pale withmore than weariness. He noticed the threads of gray in her hair. Eversince he had seen Ann in her flushed shy exaltation, he had felt morekeenly the pathos of Lady Dawn. It was a pathos that found an echo inhis heart--the pathos of approaching separation. What purpose did itserve her to be beautiful, if she had no man of her own to admire her?

"You were on the verge of telling me something, when the waiterinterrupted, " she prompted. "It began like a confession. You'd beenspeaking about living for other people and your need of rest. Then, yousaid you'd been thinking----"

"It was about how one could make a man's job out of living, " he answeredquickly. "It's all wrong that one should feel decent only when he'sattempting to get slaughtered. It takes neither brains nor perseveranceto be dead. Any one can----"

"But it was about finding rest that you were speaking. "

"Yes, but I've burdened you with too many of my troubles. " He hesitated, wondering whether he dare tell her what had happened to his heart. "I'vedone nothing for you. I've only borrowed from your strength. You're themost restful woman, the most calm----" Then he dodged. "But since youask me of what I was thinking, it was of how I might escape to the oldhardships. I thought I'd call at the Passport Office and get in touchwith the Royal Geographical Society, and commence arrangements toexplore----"

"Then I sha'n't be seeing you again?" She asked it in a tone ofdreariness, bordering on terror. Her hands trembled in her lap. Shestared straight before her. 

"But you will. " He forced a cheerfulness into his voice which he was farfrom feeling. "These things take time. It may be weeks----"

"But you'll go away. I know it. "

"I suppose I shall. Sooner or later I shall return. In the meanwhile wecan write. "

She paid no attention to his consolation. Her face was gray as granite. Her hands kept folding and unfolding. There was something symbolic intheir emptiness. "You won't come back. It's the end. You weren't sent, after all. "

How or why he said it, he never could tell. The words were utterlyunpremeditated. He spoke them, ordinarily and unemotionally, as thoughthrowing out a casual suggestion. "We could get married, if that wouldmake you happier. "

"It's what I'd like. "

His heart missed a beat. He dared not credit his senses. He glanced downat her, prepared to find that she was mocking. The most beautiful womanin England! There was no mistake; she had actually asked him. 

"It's what I should like, too. " He spoke conventionally. Nothing in histone betrayed his emotion. "It's what I've been dreaming from the momentthat we met---- When would be convenient?"

"As soon as possible. "

"Would a week from to-day suit?"

She nodded, "Or sooner. "

Beneath the robe his hand sought hers. He did not trust himself to lookat her. She was his, all of her and forever. It was marvelous. Thesecret clasp of her hand was sufficient for the present. He was stilldoubtful of his fortune and unnerved by his temerity. He felt aloof anddisembodied--an uninvolved spectator. And this was love, the journey'send--this smiling stillness, which was so different from anything he hadimagined!

They entered Mulberry Tree Court and drew up before the house with themarigold-tinted curtains. It was while they were waiting for the door tobe opened that he broke the silence. Smiling down at her with a guilty, glad expression he asked, "We're engaged now, I suppose?"

She returned his smile less certainly. "I'm ashamed. But you won'tgo----"

He laughed at the folly of her question. "Go, when I've got you, thewoman whom I wanted!"

"Then you won't go exploring? You won't exchange me for hardships?"

"Di, dearest, I've done with searching. "

The door was opening. She pulled herself together. Porter stood beforethem, neatly laundered, with the old suspicious meekness in her glance. 

"Good morning, Porter. We've come to see Miss Beddow. We've been toldthat she's staying with my sister. "

"She is, your Ladyship. But none of them are down. She arrived so lateand unexpected. "

They followed her across the hall into the sun-filled drawing-room, withits fragrant flowers, tall windows, rockery-garden and little oval pond, with the toy boat floating on its surface. The moment the door hadclosed, he had her in his arms. Now that he was sure of her possession, he held her desperately as if he feared that he were going to lose her. "Closer, " she whispered. "Closer. " It flashed through his memory thatthe last time he was in that room, he had been the spectator of justsuch a union and had fled from it because he was excluded. 

She stirred against him, lifting up her face. 

"This time you're really crying, " he whispered. Stooping he pressed herlips. "They always told me you never----"

Freeing her arms, she clasped him tightly about the neck. He could feelthe weight of her body, dragging his face lower. She kissed himpassionately, stopping his breath, as though she would breathe into himher very soul. "Oh, my dearest--my very dear! How cruel you were! Youmade me ask you. I thought I'd never get you. "

The door was opening. Terry was watching them. The first they knew ofher presence was when she spoke. 

"You came to see me. "

They broke apart like shameful children and stood regarding her, theirhands just touching. She seemed their elder. 

"I suppose you have the right to jeer at me, " she continued slowly. "I'mleft out. I was too cold. I'm too late. I didn't want what was offeredat the time it was offered. What I didn't want once, I can't have now. And, perhaps, I still don't want it. Tabs used to speak of kingdoms. Inever knew what he meant. You've all found yours--Maisie, Braithwaite, both of you and even Ann. Everybody, except me. " She laughed to preventher tears from falling. "I suppose Tabs would tell me that mine's stillround the corner. You would, wouldn't you, Tabs?"

Her need, which had been theirs, penetrated their happiness. They feltagain the old wild pang of neglected loneliness. Sargent's paintingabove the mantelpiece, looking down on them, reminded Lady Dawn of herown forgotten tragedy. It was unendurable that their gladness shouldbring sorrow to Terry. With a common instinct they went towards her. Lady Dawn placed her arms about her. It was Tabs who spoke. 

"Little Terry, you're not left out. You're ours more than ever. We'venot robbed you. We couldn't. Of you alone it's true that everything liesbefore you. All the time you've had your kingdom, though you didn't knowit. You still have it--the Kingdom of Youth, for which we older peoplewere all searching. "

In the silence that followed there stole to them through the summersunshine, above the mutter of London, the music of a distantbarrel-organ. In the mind of Tabs a picture formed; it was of childrendancing along a golden pavement on that first spring morning of hisdisillusion. The tune which the barrel-organ played was the same. Hisbrain sang words to the music:

 "Après la guerre There'll be a good time everywhere. "

And it was no longer an optimism--it was fulfilled promise. 

Surely, beyond the bounds of space, Lord Dawn also listened and washappy. For Tabs, as long as life lasted, it would be the marching-songof the kingdom round the corner.