The Moon out of Reach Part 27

"You'll drink it, though, won't you?"--persuasively.

"No," shaking her head. "I can't bear the taste of it."

"But it's good for you." He stood in front of her, gla.s.s in hand.

"Come, Nan, don't be foolish. You need something before we start.

Drink it up."

He held it to her lips, and Nan, too proud to struggle or resist like a child, swallowed the obnoxious stuff. As Trenby drove her home she had time to reflect upon the fact that if she married him there would be many a contest of wills between them. He roused a sense of rebellion in her, and he was unmistakably a man who meant to be obeyed.

Her thoughts went back to Peter Mallory. Somehow she did not think she would ever have found it difficult to obey _him_.

CHAPTER X

INDECISION

Kitty and her husband were strolling together on the terrace when Trenby's car purred up the drive to Mallow.

"You're back very early!" exclaimed Kitty gaily. "Did you get bored stiff with each other, or what?" Then, as Roger opened the car door and she caught sight of Nan's leg stretched out in front of her under the rugs and evidently resting upon something, she asked with a note of fear in her voice: "Is Nan hurt? You've not had an accident?"

Roger hastily explained what had occurred, winding up:

"She's had a wonderful escape."

He was looking rather drawn about the month, as though he, too, had pa.s.sed through a big strain of some kind.

"I'm as right as rain really," called out Nan rea.s.suringly. "If someone will only unpack the collection of rugs and coats I'm bundled up with, I can hop out of the car as well as anybody."

Barry was already at the car side and as he lifted off the last covering, revealing beneath a distended silk stocking the bandaged ankle, he exclaimed quickly:

"Hullo! This looks like some sort of damage. Is your ankle badly hurt, old thing?"

"Not a bit--nothing but a few scratches," she answered. "Only Mrs.

Denman insisted on my driving back with my leg up, and it would have broken her heart if I hadn't accepted her ''a.s.sock' for the journey."

She stepped rather stiffly out of the car, for her joints still ached, and Barry, seeing her white face and the heavy shadows beneath her eyes, put a strong, friendly arm round her shoulders to steady her.

"You've had a good shaking up, my dear, anyway," he observed with concern in his voice. "Look, I'm going to help you into the hall and put you on the big divan straight away. Then we'll discuss what's to be done with you," he added, smiling down at her.

"You won't let them keep me in bed, Barry, will you?" urged Nan as he helped her up the steps and into the great hall, its ancient panelling of oak gleaming like polished ebony in the afternoon sunlight.

Barry pulled thoughtfully at his big fair moustache.

"If Kitty says 'bed,' you know it'll have to be bed," he answered, his eyes twinkling a little.

Nan subsided on to the wide, cushioned divan.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed crossly, "You don't stay in bed because you've scratched your ankle."

"No. But you must remember you've had a bit of a shock."

By this time Kitty and Roger had joined them, overhearing the last part of the conversation.

"Of _course_ you'll go to bed at once," a.s.serted Kitty firmly. "Will you give her a hand upstairs, Barry?"

"You see?" said Barry, regarding the patient humorously. "Come along, Nan! Shall I carry you or will you hobble?"

"I'll _walk_," returned Nan with emphasis.

"Bed's much the best place for you," put in Roger.

He followed her to the foot of the staircase and, as he shook hands, said quietly:

"Till Monday, then."

"Where's Penelope?" asked Nan, as Barry a.s.sisted her upstairs with a perfectly unnecessary hand under her arm, since--as she curtly informed him--she had "no intention of accomplishing two faints in one day."

"Penelope is out with Fenton--need you ask?" And Barry chuckled good-humouredly. "Kitty fully expects them to return an engaged couple."

"Oh, I do hope they will!" cried Nan, bubbling up with the instantaneous feminine excitement which generally obtains when a love-affair, after seeming to hang fire, at last culminates in a _bona fide_ engagement. "Penny has kept him off so firmly all this time,"

she continued. "I can't think why, because it's perfectly patent to everybody that they're head over ears in love with each other."

Barry, who could have hazarded a very fair idea as to the reason why from odd sc.r.a.ps of information on the subject elicited from his wife, was silent a moment. Finally he said slowly:

"I shouldn't ask Penelope anything about it when she comes in, if I were you. If matters aren't quite settled between them yet, it might upset everything again."

Nan paused outside the door of her bedroom.

"But, my dear old Barry, what on earth is there to upset? There's no earthly obstacle to their marrying that I can see!"

As she spoke she felt a sudden little qualm of apprehension. It was purely selfish, as she told herself with a twinge of honest self-contempt. But what should she do without Penelope? It would create a big blank for her if her best friend left her for a home of her own. Somehow, the inevitable reaction of Penelope's marriage upon her own life had not occurred to her before. It hurt rather badly now that the thought had presented itself, but she determined to ignore that aspect of the matter firmly.

"Well, I hope they _will_ come back engaged," she declared. "Anyway, I won't say a word till one or other of them announces the good news."

"Better not," agreed Barry. "I think part of the trouble is this big American tour Fenton's been offered. It seems to have complicated matters."

There came a light footstep on the staircase and Kitty swished round the bend. Barry and Nan started guiltily apart, smiling deprecatingly at her.

"Nan, you ought to be in bed by now!" protested Kitty severely.

"You're not to be trusted one minute, Barry, keeping her standing about talking like this."

She shoo'd her big husband away with a single wave of her arm and marshalled Nan into the bedroom. In her hand she carried a tray on which was a gla.s.s of hot milk.

"There," she continued, addressing Nan. "You've got to drink that while you're undressing, and then you'll sleep well. And you're not to come down to-morrow except for dinner. I'll send your meals up--you shan't be starved! But you must have a thorough rest."

"Oh, Kitty!" Nan's exclamation was a positive wail of dismay.