Part 21 (1/2)

An air of evasion characterised Mr. Bast. He explained again, but was obviously lying, and Helen didn't see why he should get off. She had the cruelty of youth. Neglecting her sister's pressure, she said, ”I still don't understand. When did you say you paid this call?”

”Call? What call?” said he, staring as if her question had been a foolish one, a favourite device of those in mid-stream.

”This afternoon call.”

”In the afternoon, of course!” he replied, and looked at Tibby to see how the repartee went. But Tibby was unsympathetic, and said, ”Sat.u.r.day afternoon or Sunday afternoon?”

”S--Sat.u.r.day.”

”Really!” said Helen; ”and you were still calling on Sunday, when your wife came here. A long visit.”

”I don't call that fair,” said Mr. Bast, going scarlet and handsome.

There was fight in his eyes. ”I know what you mean, and it isn't so.”

”Oh, don't let us mind,” said Margaret, distressed again by odours from the abyss.

”It was something else,” he a.s.serted, his elaborate manner breaking down. ”I was somewhere else to what you think, so there!”

”It was good of you to come and explain,” she said. ”The rest is naturally no concern of ours.”

”Yes, but I want--I wanted--have you ever read The Ordeal of Richard Feverel?”

Margaret nodded.

”It's a beautiful book. I wanted to get back to the earth, don't you see, like Richard does in the end. Or have you ever read Stevenson's Prince Otto?”

Helen and Tibby groaned gently.

”That's another beautiful book. You get back to the earth in that. I wanted--” He mouthed affectedly. Then through the mists of his culture came a hard fact, hard as a pebble. ”I walked all the Sat.u.r.day night,”

said Leonard. ”I walked.” A thrill of approval ran through the sisters.

But culture closed in again. He asked whether they had ever read E. V.

Lucas's Open Road.

Said Helen, ”No doubt it's another beautiful book, but I'd rather hear about your road.”

”Oh, I walked.”

”How far?”

”I don't know, nor for how long. It got too dark to see my watch.”

”Were you walking alone, may I ask?”

”Yes,” he said, straightening himself; ”but we'd been talking it over at the office. There's been a lot of talk at the office lately about these things. The fellows there said one steers by the Pole Star, and I looked it up in the celestial atlas, but once out of doors everything gets so mixed.”

”Don't talk to me about the Pole Star,” interrupted Helen, who was becoming interested. ”I know its little ways. It goes round and round, and you go round after it.”

”Well, I lost it entirely. First of all the street lamps, then the trees, and towards morning it got cloudy.”