The Keeper of the Door Part 93

"I should say so," he answered, "but it seems I am of no account."

"Oh, he didn't mean that," she said quickly.

He looked at her. "He is not the only person who thinks so, Olga."

She slipped a friendly hand on to his arm. "Noel," she said, "you don't think I think so, do you?"

He laid his hand on hers and pressed it silently. They stood together in the semi-darkness, isolated for the moment, very intimately alone.

"Noel," Olga whispered at length, a tremor of distress in the words, "you mustn't think that; please--please, you must never think that!"

He moved a little, stooped to her. "Olga," he said, speaking quickly, "I'm not blaming you. You couldn't help it. It's just my d.a.m.ned luck.

But--if I'd met you--first--I'd have won you!"

The words came hot and pa.s.sionate. His hand gripped hers with unconscious force. She made no attempt to free herself. Neither did she contradict him, for she knew that he spoke the truth.

Only, after a moment, she said, looking up at him, "I'm so dreadfully sorry."

"You couldn't help it," he reiterated almost savagely. "Anyhow you're happy; so I ought to be satisfied. I should be too, if I didn't have a sort of feeling that you'd have been happier with me. P'raps I'm a cad to tell you, but it's. .h.i.t me rather hard."

He broke off, breathing heavily. She drew nearer to him, stroking his shoulder softly with her free hand. "Dear Noel, I love you for telling me," she said. "I feel dreadfully unworthy of your love. But I'm very, very grateful for it. You know that, don't you? And I--I'd marry you if my heart would let me, but,--dear, it won't."

He forced a laugh. "I know you would. That's just the d.a.m.nable part of it. Life is an infernal swindle, isn't it? It's brimful of this sort of thing." He stood up with a jerk, and pulled himself together. "Forgive me, Olga! I didn't mean to let off steam in this way. I'm a selfish hound. Forget it! Only promise me that if you ever want a friend to turn to, you'll turn to me."

"Indeed I will!" she said very earnestly.

He held her hands very tightly for a moment and let them go; but they clung to his. She looked up at him appealingly.

"Noel," she said, with slight hesitation, "please--for my sake--be friendly with Max!"

He drew back instantly with a boyish gesture of distaste. "Oh, all right," he said.

She saw that he would not endure pressure on this point, and refrained from pursuing it; but his reception of her request was a disappointment to her. Somehow she had come to expect greater things from Noel.

The rest of the evening slipped away magically. She danced a great many dances without any sense of fatigue; but when it was all over at last a great weariness descended upon her. She drove back with Max, so utterly spent that she could hardly speak.

Yet, as they entered Nick's bungalow, she roused herself and turned to him with her own quick smile. "It's been the happiest evening of my life," she said.

"Really!" said Max.

She slipped the cloak from her shoulders and went close to him. The love in her eyes gave them a glory that was surely not of earth. She took him by the shoulders, those clear, shining eyes raised to his.

"I'm afraid you've had a dull time," she said. "I hope you haven't hated it."

"Not at all," said Max.

Yet a hint of cynicism still lingered about him as he said it. He stood pa.s.sive within her hold.

She pressed a little nearer to him. "Max, you didn't mind my giving all those dances to Noel? You--understood?"

He began to smile. "My dear girl, yes!"

"You are sure?" she insisted.

He took her upraised face between his hands. "I have always understood you," he said.

"I can't help being sorry for him, can I?" she said wistfully.

He bent and kissed her. "It's a wasted sentiment, my child; but if it pleases you to be sorry, I have no objection."

"He is much nicer than you think," she pleaded.

He laughed at that. "I've known him from his cradle. He's a typical Wyndham, you know. They are all charming in one sense, and all rotten in another."

"Oh, Max!" she protested.

"I'm an exception," he said; "neither charming nor rotten. Now, my dear, since your estimable little chaperon has deserted you it's up to me to send you to bed. Do you want a drink before you go?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "No, I don't want anything. I feel as if I had had too much already. I don't want to go to bed, Max. I don't want to end this perfect day."

"There is always to-morrow," he said.

"No; but to-morrow won't be the same. And the time goes so fast. Very soon you will be going too."

"It will soon be Midsummer Day," smiled Max.

She gave a sudden, sharp shiver. "Lots of things may happen before then."

He held her closely to him for a moment, and in the thrilling pressure of his arms she felt his love for her vibrate; but he made no verbal answer to her words.

Slowly at length she released herself. "Well, I suppose I must say good-night. I hope you will be comfortable. You are sure you have all you want?"

"Quite sure," he said.

"Then good-night!" She went back for a moment into his arms. "I wonder Nick isn't here. Do you think he can have gone to bed?"

"Haven't an idea," said Max. "Anyhow I don't want him. And it's high time you went. Good-night, dear!"

Again closely he held her; again his lips pressed hers. Then, his arm about her, he led her to the door.

They parted outside, she glancing backward as she went, he standing motionless to watch her go. At the last she kissed her hand to him and was gone.

He turned back into the room with an odd, unsteady smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

The hand with which he helped himself to a drink shook slightly, and he looked at it with contemptuous attention. His favourite briar was lying in an ash-tray, where he had left it earlier in the day. He took it up, filled and lighted it. Then he sauntered out on to the verandah, drink in hand.

The night was dark and chill. He could barely discern the cypresses against the sky. He sat down in a hammock-chair in deep shadow and proceeded to smoke his pipe.

From far away, in the direction of the jungle, there came the haunting cry of a jackal, and a little nearer he heard the weird call of an owl.