Ruby M. Ayres

“ Esther did not answer for a moment.
“No,” she said. “He isn’t at all wonderful, really, except to me, and––and I love him, you see,” she added shyly. “I suppose every man is wonderful to the woman who loves him.”
“Until she’s his wife,” said June tartly. “And then she thinks he’s all sorts of an idiot, and tells him so.”
But Esther was too happy to take her seriously.
“You’ve never been in love,” she said, “or you wouldn’t talk like that.”
“And I never wish to be in love, thank you,” said June. “If you and Micky are samples of objects who are in love....” ”

“ Suddenly she asked a question.
"If you are Chris' best friend, why weren't you his best man at—at our wedding?"
She looked up at him as she spoke, and saw the quick frown that crossed his face.
"Am I to answer that question?" he asked.
"Of course. I should like to know."
"Very well, then, as you insist—Chris asked me to be best man, or whatever you call it, and I refused."
"Why?" She was really interested now.
"Why? Well, because—before I saw you—I disliked the idea of Chris being married. Marriage spoils most friendships between men."
Marie looked out over the sea with wistful eyes. ”

“ But June at any rate was wide awake. It only took her two minutes to read Micky’s passionate appeal; the next she was laughing and crying together, and hugging Esther boisterously.
“Oh, isn’t he the most wonderful man? Don’t you love him? Don’t you just adore him? Oh, if you’re going to break his heart after all this, I’ll never forgive you!... Why, my George isn’t in it with Micky, poor darling!”––she shook Esther in her excitement––“What are you made of, that you can’t see what a king he is? I don’t believe there’s any blood in your veins at all,” she declared indignantly. ”

“ Jimmy turned away; he stood staring down into the fire; he felt somehow as if they were both taking a mean advantage of Christine; he felt as if he had tried to force her hand; he was sure she did not wish to come back to him, but he was sure, too, that because in her heart she thought it her duty to do so, he would not return to London alone that night.
Nobody spoke for a moment; Jimmy was afraid to look round, then
Christine said slowly:
"Very well, what train are we to go by?" ”

“ Peg agreed, "but I'm not a fool, and neither is he; and as he's Ralph Scammel, and a good business man as well, he's not doing all this just to please us, and don't you forget it. There's some reason for it all."
"What do you mean?" But Faith spoke uneasily and looked away.
"I mean," said Peg bluntly, "that he's in love with one of us." She looked at Faith with sharp eyes. "A man never spends heaps of money on a woman for nothing. And as there's nothing to be got out of us, he's in love with one of us, and I don't flatter myself that it's me." ”

“ MARIE had only been back in London two days when she realized that, as far as Chris was concerned, she need expect nothing more than the casual affection which he had always bestowed upon her.
He was just the Chris she had always known—selfish and irresponsible and wholly charming.
Sometimes she despised herself because, no matter how indifferent he might be to her, her love in no way lessened. She felt that it would be much more for her happiness and much more sensible if she could grow as indifferent to him as he was to her. ”

“ But to Jimmy—Sangster metaphorically shrugged his shoulders as he looked at his friend's moody face.
How could he sit there next to that child and not realise that in his longing he was only grasping at a shadow? What was he made of that he saw more beauty in Cynthia Farrow's blue eyes than in the sweet face of his boyhood's love?
Sangster was glad when the play was over; theatres always bored him. He did not quite know why he had invited himself to Jimmy's box to-night. When they rose to leave he smiled indulgently at Christine's rapt face. ”

“ Miss Dell's harsh voice woke Faith from the day-dream, into which she had fallen over her machine, and set her hurriedly working again.
That the events of yesterday were unreal she was still convinced. A hundred times since she parted from Nicholas Forrester she had put her hand into the little bag containing the money he had given her, which she wore hidden under her frock. That was real enough, at all events. She was too awed by its possession to think of spending it. It seemed to her ignorance that all the wealth of the world was hers. ”

“ The train rumbled on through the night; it dragged into many little stations and stopped jerkily, but Esther did not wake.
Once when she moved and the rug slipped, Micky rose and quietly replaced it. He was very tired himself, but his brain would not allow him to sleep; he felt as if he were living through years during these long hours.
He sat looking at Esther with wistful eyes. Why was it that people never fell in love with the right people? he asked himself vaguely. He could have made her so happy. ”

“ She would not further alienate Chris by scenes and tears.
If he did not care for her she would not let him think that it worried her. Surely, if she were brave and turned a smiling face to a world that had suddenly grown so empty something good would come out of it all. Some small reward would creep out of the blackness that enveloped her.
Though she knew it was unjust in her heart she laid all the trouble at Dakers' door—"Feathers," as Chris and young Atkins called him. She thought of his ugly, kindly face as she lay there in the darkness, and silently hated him. ”

“ He drew her into the room, shutting the door quietly. Jimmy had walked over to the window; he stood staring into the street with misty eyes. He had never had death brought home to him like this before. It seemed to have made an upheaval in his world; to have thrown all his schemes and calculations out of gear; life was all at once a thing to be feared and dreaded.
He could hear Sangster talking to Christine behind him; he could not hear what he was saying; he was only too thankful that his friend had come. The last hours which he had spent alone with Christine had been a nightmare to him. ”

“ The light in the center of the room fell full on his ugly face, cruelly revealing all its grimness and pallor, and the trembling tenderness of his mouth. He made no attempt to ignore her meaning. It was too great a moment for pretense.
She was so small, such a child, that his passionate love died down into something infinitely gentle as he spoke.
"Do you know what it means, Marie? Do you realize that you will break Miss Chester's heart, and ruin your husband's life? Do you know what everyone will say of you and me?" ”

“ The silence of the room was unbroken save for the little crisp sound as Micky turned the paper; then the letter fluttered to the rug at his feet and lay there, half-curled up, as if it were ashamed of the words it bore and wished to hide them.
Micky raised his eyes and looked at his reflection in the glass above the mantelshelf. The pallor of his face surprised him, and the look of passionate anger in his eyes.
He was a man of the world. ”

“ She tried to harden her heart against Jimmy. She tried to remember only that he had married her out of pique; that he cared nothing for her—that he did not really want her. As a sort of desperate defence she deliberately thought of Kettering; he liked her, she knew. She was not too much of a child to understand what that look in his eyes had meant, that sudden pressure of his hand on hers.
And she liked him, too. She told herself defiantly that she liked him very much; that she would rather have been with him over at Heston that afternoon than up in town with Jimmy. ”

“ Here was a man who disliked all women even as Chris did, and yet he had found it possible to be kind to her, to befriend her in her loneliness and perplexity. She felt that she could not be sufficiently grateful to him.
Feathers did not speak till they had left the main stream and slipped into the wonderful backwater that lies between Wargrave and Henley. Marie had never seen anything like it in her life. She held her breath in sheer delight as she lay back amongst the cushions and looked up at the canopy of leaves overhead. ”

“ There would be life there, at any rate––life and people and music––something to make a man forget the depression that sat like a ton weight on his shoulders.
He felt utterly at a loose end; he stalked moodily into the lounge. There were many people there, girls in pretty dinner frocks, with their attendant cavaliers. Micky glanced at none of them, till suddenly a girl who had been sitting on a couch listening rather listlessly to the conversation of a youth beside her, rose to her feet when she saw Micky, the hot colour flying to her cheeks. ”

“ The way she asked me if I was going to stay to dinner—a chap's own wife!—and in front of that brute Kettering!"
"He isn't a brute."
Gladys walked away and poured herself another cup of tea.
"Christine has been hurt—hurt much more than you have," she said at last. She spoke slowly, as if she were carefully choosing her words.
"She was so awfully fond of you, Jimmy." Jimmy moved restlessly. "It—it must have been a dreadful shock to her, poor child." She looked at him impatiently. "Oh, what on earth is the use of being a man if you can't make a woman care for you? ”

“ He tried to show her the tragic impossibility of it all—the hopelessness. He spoke to her of the past, of the days when she and Chris has been children together; he pleaded for his friend as eloquently as he might have pleaded for himself, and at last he stopped, struck to the heart by her silence.
She drew her hand away.
"You mean . . . all this means . . . that you don't love me."
Feathers bit his lip till the blood came. Not love her! When every drop of blood in his body was on fire with love for her; when he was holding himself in with a grip of iron from taking her into his arms. ”

“ She found herself in some gardens where an elderly man was feeding sparrows; she sat down on a bench and watched him.
It seemed years ago that she went down to Enmore with June––since she sat in the little inn with Micky and heard those two men talking.
The hot blood beat into her cheeks as she remembered something that for the moment she had forgotten––that Raymond Ashton was married!
The man gave the sparrows his last crumbs and went away. The little brown birds came hopping to Esther’s feet, looking up at her with bright, eager eyes, as if expecting her to supply a further meal. ”

“ Every chair and table seemed littered with frocks and furbelows. Every available space on the walls was covered with pictures and photographs and odds and ends. The room was brilliantly lit, and at a dressing-table strewn with make-up boxes and a hundred and one toilet requisites, a girl was reading a letter.
At first glance she looked very young. She was small and dainty, with clearly cut features and beautiful hair, the most beautiful hair in all the world Jimmy Challoner thought for the thousandth time as he stood in the doorway looking across at her with his foolish heart in his eyes. ”