Mary Stewart Cutting

“ Batsford-Wring frankly composed herself for sleep, in which she had a brilliant cubist effect. Benson and the captain kept up an interested conversation on the sports in Africa and how they differed from those in the States, while the former kept up that double tide of thought which was not exactly thought, but a sensation through everything of being free. It was as though he had been wounded so deeply that there was no more feeling left—something had been killed in him. He might wake some day to worse pain than ever ”

“ He laughed and stood up, beginning to take off his coat. "Just watch me."
"Benson! Don't," said Cecelie sharply.
He turned in surprise, as though he had forgotten that she was there.
"Why not?"
"Mrs. Paley told me that lots of boys have tried to get the nest and couldn't. You can see where the lightning struck—those jagged branches may not hold you."
"Oh, the tree's all right."
"But, Benson! Please!" Her colour flickered. "I ask you not to. It's idiotic; I hate to see people in high places—it makes me dizzy."
"But Mrs. Batsford-Wring wants the feather," he argued seriously. ”

“ The only drawback was that Cecelie, lovelier than ever in the glow of the fire, sat with one elbow on the table, her head turned away, looking out of the window at the frozen inlet and the tall lightning-scarred tree in the distance—in the far top of which dangled something that the waiter explained was a fish-hawk's deserted nest—and refused, in spite of Benson's consternation, even to taste anything.
"But don't let that make any difference to you," she urged amiably. "Eat all you want." ”

“ Benson was not a dweller in the big city—only coming here on rare trips, like the present, from the mining town he happened to be in. All the sights and sounds—the environment, the people—had for the moment an agreeable foreignness that produced a vague exhilaration in addition to that absorbing prospect of meeting Cecelie, but with some vaguely depressing undercurrent, because as yet she had not come. ”

“ Cecelie had asked him to meet her at the Venetia at half-past four the next day, and they would have their afternoon uninterrupted. And, after all, she had not come! Oh, she never kept her promises—she fooled you every time! What would have alienated in another was only a deeper allure in her; she drew like a magnet, whatever she did. Why must she always fly from him when he was near? ”

“ He always was a filthy brute—I never liked him. And you? Are you not married yourself?"
"No, indeed," said Benson, with an involuntary look at Cecelie, who, slim and graceful as a willow wand, was talking to the admiring captain.
"Shall we have some tea together?" pursued Mrs. Batsford-Wring hospitably. "You were very late finishin' your luncheon, weren't you?—but a cup of tea is refreshin' at any time. Now don't look at your watch, Bennie; you can't hurry off when we've so much to talk over. You'll have tea with us, Miss Sherwood?" ”

“ He grimly foresaw only failure at the end of his day, yet his exhilaration remained. Who that says he has no hope really has none? We get ahead in life by counting the milestones to the hopes we never reach! He wondered how much her pretty shoes cost, with a tender sense of possession; for the time being she was his anyhow.
Suddenly Cecelie hid her face in her arm, she shook from head to foot.
"What's the matter?" he asked, bending over, in quick distress. "Cecelie—you're not feeling so badly as that, dear? Cecelie!" ”

“ Can't I for once have what I want—when it's so little—without all this fuss about it? You know you'd go off for a motor ride with any one else without turning a hair."
Her face contracted, she moved herself disdainfully as far away from him as possible into the blue-cushioned corner, her gray furs half round her. Her hair looked very golden, her skin very pearly, her lips very red—but there was a stony expression in the gray eyes that gazed past him. Benson's eyes were fixed on her. ”

“ He had forborne to scan too closely the faces of the throng near him for fear of finding some hampering acquaintance—he had travelled enough to be apt to meet people he knew in any scene—but now a large-busted, bare-throated lady, rising from the chair beside him, revealed just beyond a slender, prettily dressed young woman with a delicate profile about which there seemed to grow something pleasingly familiar. ”

“ Her eyes shone with delighted reminiscence as she began talking faster and faster. "And wasn't Ferd cross? I think people on their wedding trip are too funny for anything—neither one knows what the other is going to get deeply injured at. I can see his face now as he was introducing you to me on the hotel steps, and all my letters blew away, and the comb fell out of my hair, and the cologne bottle dropped from my bag and smashed!"
"You laughed," said Benson admonishingly. ”

“ Her voice rose piercingly in peal after peal, with a caught breath in between.
"Stop!" said Benson peremptorily, as her voice became an hysterical shriek. "Stop! Stop! Stop! The people in the two cars that just passed us are looking back—one is turning round! We'll have the police after us. Stop, Cecelie! ”

“ Batsford-Wring, who nearly saved my life—once when I was ill at Baden—and earned my undying gratitude—and her brother, Captain Hawkly," said Benson formally. "Miss Sherwood is the daughter of Mr. Nevitt Sherwood, of whom you may have heard."
"How d'ye do? Some people are so particular about whom they meet when they're travellin'—but I'm nawt," said Mrs. Batsford-Wring pleasantly, with a stare at Cecelie, who was deeply observing in her turn, while the captain's glance fell on her, with the instantly resulting gleam. ”

“ But that was a nasty one, wasn't it?" said his sister agreeably.
"Oh, you can't scare me off that way!" said Benson. "You'll certainly dance as well as I do."
"You're lookin' a lot more fit than you were; it's a pity I cahn't take you in hand oftener, isn't it?" she murmured once as, his arms around her, her graceful lankiness dipped and reared wildly to the rhythm of the music.
Benson's "Yes," gave quick assent; his hand pressed hers warmly.
"You're the kindest woman I ever knew, Chickie." ”

“ She gazed at him in tender concern, with that provocative effect of sweetly giving that meant—as he knew so well—instant withdrawal if one presumed on it. "Why do you take everything so seriously?" Her voice dropped to a pleading tone. "Why won't you be good and come with us?" ”

“ Batsford-Wring. "Really he's quite an extraor'n'ry man, you know, Miss Sherwood; he does everything so well. The tales they tell of him out in Dakotah! My word, but those women at the ranch were mad over him! I thought he'd be married by now to the little Dalgarnie girl; but it seems he's nawt. Well, Bennie, you're back to earth again, aren't you?" Her violet eyes welcomed him.
Cecelie's face had flushed unaccountably. Was this the Benson she knew?
"And here's your feather, Chickie," he said, touching Mrs. Batsford-Wring gently on the cheek with it before handing it to her. ”

“ What do you mean?"
"Why"—he fumbled for words under her direct and indignant gaze—"why, it's this way, Cecelie—— For heaven's sake, don't look at me like that! Don't get any foolishness into your head; I'm not running away with you. But you never will give me a chance to see you alone and speak for myself; so this time I've taken it. You're going to spend this day with me." He put up his hand detainingly, as she made a movement forward. "There's no use in your talking to the chauffeur—he's fixed. I've got it all planned out; I'm going to take you up into the country to Paley's. ”