Winding Paths Part 55

"Oh, I dare say Lorry would come for the matter of that. We might teach her to play too."

"Well, I hardly meant she should actually be there," he went on in a meaning voice. "She'd be rather in the way, wouldn't she? I don't know that I could do with any one else but you."

He stepped closer to her, and slipped his arm round her shoulders. "A third person will always be in the way when I am with you, Hal."

She changed colour, and breathed fitfully, moving as if to disengage herself from his arm.

"No, don't go. This is very harmless, and I've been exceedingly good for a long time, now, haven't I?"

"All the greater pity to spoil your record," putting up her hand to remove his.

But he only clasped her fingers tightly, and drew her closer, till he could feel her heart palpitating a little wildly; and that gave him courage.

"It has been far harder than you have the remotest idea of. I deserve one kiss, if only by way of encouragement."

His face was close to hers now, and with a little murmuring sound of gladness he kissed her cheek.

"Little woman," he murmured, "I've grown desperately fond of you. I hardly know how to do without you. Be a sensible little girl, won't you?"

She disengaged herself resolutely then, but she was not angry, and her eyes were shining.

"You are transgressing flagrantly - as I should express it in a newspaper report. Collect your forces, and retire gracefully, O transgressor."

"I suppose I really must go now. It's been such a splendid day, hasn't it?"

He seemed to speak with a shadow of regret; and there was a shadow of regret in his eyes also as he riveted them on her face. Then he turned suddenly and picked up his cap.

"Well - the best of friends must part - and the best of days come to an end. Good-bye, little girl."

With his cap in his hand, he suddenly put both his arms round her and kissed her with the old pa.s.sionate eagerness - then he loosed her and turned to the door.

"I'm in love with you, Hal - head over ears in love; but it's a devilish hard world, and Heaven only knows what's to come of it."

With which enigmatical sentence he let himself out and departed.

When he had gone Hal stood quite still where he had left her, and looked into vacancy. About her lips there was the ghost of a smile.

In her ears was only the recollection of the words, "I'm head over ears in love with you."

So, it was coming at last - the great, glad day of love and fulfilment.

If he had set out to trifle with her at first, at least he was serious enough now. She, too, had only trifled in the beginning, seizing a little fun and adventure in her workaday world. There had been no reason to suppose it need hurt any one. Now, she, too, was serious.

Perhaps the things detrimental to him that she had heard previously had some truth in them then, but he was changed now. Love had changed him.

He was like another man. She had seen and felt it in a thousand ways that could not be translated into speech or writing. It was just that he was different, and in every particular it was to his advantage.

She was different too. She did not resent the kiss, because she knew that he honestly cared for her. Ans she knew, too, that she honestly cared for him. The end of the enigmatical sentence rankled a little, but she did not led herself dwell upon it.

She chose instead to remember how he had kissed her; and that he had confessed he was head over ears in love with her. Which only showed that Hal - for all her worldly wisdom and practical common sense - could be as blind and as romantic ans any one when her heart was touched, and her pulses romping feverishly at a memory that thrilled all her being.

Three days later she had heard the conversation.

Of course it was absurd - manifestly so - and yet an yet -

After a miserable twenty-four hours of fighting against her own uneasiness, she paid the flying visit to Lorraine, to see if she could glean any light on the gossip from her, only to return to the office baffled and tormented.

It was the enigmatical sentence that pressed forward now, instead of the thrilling confession that he loved her. Was it possible he was indeed so base as to love her and tell her in the very same week that he had asked another woman to be his wife?

And if so, what had prompted him? What was in his mind? Why had he not left things as they were, and refrained both from the kiss and the confession?

And then above her tortured feelings rose the triumphant thought, goading and pleasing at the same time: "Whether it is true or not, he loves _me_ - not her, the heiress, but me - Hal Pritchard - the peniless City worker."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

In the evening came the party at d.i.c.k Bruce's home, and it was necessary, she knew, to thrustl all recollection of Sir Edwin aside, in order to give rise to no questioning and appear as usual.

So she dressed herself with special care, rubbed a pink tinge on to her white cheeks, bathed and refreshed eyes dulled by worry and shadows, and made her appearance, looking, inf anything, a little more radiant than usual.

"By Jove! you look stunning, Hal," was her jovial uncle's warm greeting. "Who'd ever have thought, to see the ugly little imp of a small child you were, that you would grow up into a fashionable, striking woman? I congratulate you. When's the happy man coming along?"

"When I'm tired to enjoying of myself," she laughed, "and feel equal to coping with anything as trying as a husband. At present a brother keeps me quite sufficiently occupied, "and she pa.s.sed on.

Across the large, well-lit room, towering above every one around him, she saw the head and shoulders of Alymer Hermon. All about her, as she moved towards him, she heard the low-voiced query: "Who is he?"

No society beauty at her zenith could have caused greater interest. He was looking grave, too, and thoughtful, which suited him better than laughter, giving him something of a look apart, and banishing all suggestion of the conceit and self-satisfaction that would have spoilt him. Then he caught sight of Hal, and instantly all his face lit up, and a twinkle shone in his eyes as he edged towards her.

"How late you are! I thought you were never coming. Did your hair require an extra half-hour? I suppose you've been tearing it out by the roots over your faithless swain."

"I don't know what you mean, and anyhow I shouldn't be such a fool as to tear my own hair out by the roots for any one. If hair is coming out in that fashion, it shall be his roots."

"Come and sit down. I'll soon find you a chair."

"What's the good of that? We can't converse unless you sit on the floor. I work too hard to spend my evening shouting ba.n.a.lities at the ceiling."

"Well, let's hunt for a couch; there are plenty here on ordinary occasions. Isn't it a poser where all the furniture goes to at a 'beano' like this! There's nothing in the hall, nor in the dinning-room; and there doesn't seem to be much here. Let's make for the lounge."

"But I can't take you away. I shall get my face scratched. You were made to be looked at, and half these silly people are staring their eyes out in your direction. I don't know how you put up with it so serenely. I should want to bite them all. If I were a man, and had been burdened with an appearance like yours, I should want to hit Life in the face for it."

"Don't be silly. What does it matter? It pleases them, and it doesn't hurt me. I get my own back a little anyway... when I want to" - with a low, significant laugh.

"Oh of course lots of women are in love with you," - with a contemptuous sniff; "but if I were a man I wouldn't give tuppence for the woman who made me a present of her affections. You miss all the fun of the chase, and the victory. It must be deadly dull."

"That's what Lorraine has sometimes said; but what can I do? Shall I paint my face black?"

"Oh, I've seen you look black enough, but it's rather becoming than otherwise. Anyhow, it isn't insipid. But you've grown quite manly lately, I suppose. I hear about you occasionally positively working hard. Heavens! - what you owe to Lorraine!""