Part 72 (2/2)

Two days pa.s.sed before Craven knew of Lady Sellingworth's return to Berkeley Square. Braybrooke told him of it in the club, and added the information that she had arrived on the previous Sat.u.r.day.

”Oh!” said Craven, with apparent indifference. ”Have you seen her?”

Braybrooke replied that he had seen her, and that she was looking, in his opinion, remarkably well, even somewhat younger than usual.

”She seems to have had an excellent time on the Riviera and in Switzerland.”

”In Switzerland!” said Craven, thinking of Braybrooke's remarks about Catherine Bewdley and Lausanne.

”Yes, but I don't think she has been ill. I ventured to--just to say a word as to doctors, and she a.s.sured me she had been perfectly well all the time she was away. Are you going to see her?”

”I've got a good deal to do just now,” said Craven, coldly and with a slight rise of colour. ”But of course I hope to see Lady Sellingworth again some day. She is a charming woman. It's always a pleasure to have a talk with her.”

”Yes, indeed! By the way, who is Beryl Van Tuyn's extraordinarily good-looking young friend? Do you happen to know?”

”What friend?” asked Craven, with sudden sharpness.

”The tall man she has been seen about with lately.”

”I don't know.”

After a slight pause, very intentional on Braybrooke's part, Craven replied:

”Miss Van Tuyn knows such lots of people.”

”To be sure! And Lady Archie, though a dear woman, is perhaps a little inclined to gossip.”

”Lady Archie Brooke?”

”Yes. She has met Miss Van Tuyn two or three times in Glebe Place, it seems, walking with a man whom she describes as a marvel of good looks.

But there's Antring. I must have a word with him. He is just over from Paris.”

And Braybrooke walked away with his usual discreet gait. He was feeling decidedly satisfied. Young Craven had certainly not been pleased with the information so casually imparted. It had aroused--Braybrooke was convinced of it--a sensation of jealousy which promised well for the future. Braybrooke was almost sure now that his young friend had fallen thoroughly in love with Beryl Van Tuyn. The coldness about Adela Sellingworth, the sudden touch of heat about Beryl Van Tuyn, surely indicated that. Braybrooke was not seriously upset about Lady Archie's remarks. She really was a tremendous gossip, although of course a delightful woman. And Miss Van Tuyn was always surrounded by men.

Nevertheless he was decidedly curious about the good-looking stranger who had been seen in Glebe Place. He had a retentive memory, and had not forgotten d.i.c.k Garstin's extraordinary remark about the blackmailer.

Braybrooke was not mistaken about Craven. The information about Adela Sellingworth had renewed Craven's hot sense of injury. Braybrooke did not understand that. But the subsequent remark about Beryl Van Tuyn had added fuel to the fire, and the sharp jealousy of sensitive youth mingled with the feeling of injury. Craven had been hurt by the elderly woman. Was he now to be hurt by the girl? Braybrooke's news had made him feel really angry. Yet he knew he had no right to be angry. He began to wish that he had never gone to Berkeley Square on that autumn afternoon, had never met the two women who were beginning to complicate his life.

For a moment he thought of dropping them both. But had not one of them already dropped him? He would certainly not call again in Berkeley Square. If Lady Sellingworth did not ask him to go there he would not attempt to see her. He was not going to fight for her friends.h.i.+p. And as to Beryl Van Tuyn--The curious name--Nicolas Arabian--came into his mind and a conversation at a box at a theatre. Miss Van Tuyn had told him about this magnificently handsome man, this ”living bronze,” but somehow he had never thought of her as specially intimate with a fellow who frequented the Cafe Royal, and who apparently sat as a model to painters. But now he realized that this must be the man of Glebe Place, and he felt more angry, more injured than before.

Yet he was not in love with Beryl Van Tuyn. Or had he fallen in love with her without being aware of it? She attracted him very much physically at times. She amused him, interested him. He liked being with her. He was angry at the thought of another man's intimacy with her. He wanted her to be fond of him, to need him, to prefer him to all other men. But he often felt critical about her, about her character, though not about her beauty. A lover surely could not feel like that. A lover just loved, and there was an end of it.

He could not understand his own feelings. But when he thought of Beryl Van Tuyn he felt full of the fighting instinct, and ready to take the initiative. He would never fight to retain Lady Sellingworth's friends.h.i.+p, but he would fight to a.s.sert himself with the beautiful American. She should not take him up and use him merely as a means to amus.e.m.e.nt without any care for what was due to him. Lady Sellingworth was old, and in a sense famous. Such a woman could do as she pleased.

With her, protest would be ridiculous. But he would find a way with Beryl Van Tuyn.

On that day and the next Craven did not see Miss Van Tuyn. No message came to him from Lady Sellingworth. Evidently the latter wished to have nothing more to do with him. She had now been in London for nearly a week without letting him know it. Miss Van Tuyn had telephoned once suggesting a meeting. But Craven had charmingly put her off, alleging a tiresome engagement. He did not choose now to seem eager to meet her.

He was considering what he would do. If he could manage to meet her in Glebe Place! But how to contrive such an encounter? While he was meditating about this he was again rung up by Miss Van Tuyn, who suggested that he should play golf with her at Beaconsfield on the following day, Sat.u.r.day.

”You can't pretend you are working overtime at the F.O. to-morrow,” she said.

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