Part 62 (1/2)
”Oh, yes ... you can have it, if you like.”
”_What?_”
”Yes, really--and whichever others you like.” Bramham seized her card blithely.
”Now this comes of getting ahead of pirates like Abinger and Carson----”
”But ... _he_ ... has not returned?” she asked quickly. It occurred to Bramham to be wily in the interest of his dances. Carson is big enough and ugly enough to look after himself, was his thought.
”No ... not yet. But he _might_ run in, mightn't he? You're not thinking of going back on me, are you?”
”Of course not!” She turned away.
He dotted his initials thickly on her card, for he had discovered at a little informal affair that she danced delightfully. When he gave it back, her hands were trembling violently. Even the mention of Carson's return had power to shake her whole being.
Mrs. Portal came in, looking thin and worn, but with her little gay air that carried everything along and made people forget to observe that her eyes were ringed, and her cheeks drawn, or what colour she was dressed in. Laughing and apologising, she implored Poppy to give a glance at the back of her gown to see if it was all right.
”Really, I believe I laced it with my toes,” she said. ”My hands haven't had a moment since daybreak.... Come along, or we shall be late, and have to sit glued to the wall all night.... Miss Allendner, you simply take the s.h.i.+ne out of us all in that gown ... you are _all_ s.h.i.+ne ... I never saw any one so shamefully magnificent.... Come along, good peoples.” She pushed the pleased old soul gently out of the room before her, and Bramham and Poppy followed. Miss Allendner was, indeed, at her best in a s.h.i.+ning sequined gown, which Mrs. Portal had been at some pains to reconstruct and bring up-to-date.
Eventually they set off--Poppy still carrying her bunch of orange leaves, faintly scenting the carriage. Sometimes when the others were absorbed in talk, she secretly pressed them against her heart. She felt as though she had gone back again to the days of her childhood, when misery claimed her, and there was no hope of comfort, or strength, or kindness, from anything but trees and green leaves. She was glad that she wore her mother's old green brooch and that there were great pieces of green malachite in the high Empire comb she had stuck in her piled-up crown of black, black hair; she needed all the strength that green things could give her to-night.
One of the first people they saw on entering was Mary Cap.r.o.n, standing in the centre of the ball-room, a little crowd of people about her, supremely beautiful in black lace and diamonds. She came over to them at once with a little loving pat of welcome for Clem and a brilliant smile for the others. She half extended her hand to Poppy, in friendliness; but Poppy turned away from her. She could not welcome the touch of a hand that had smitten happiness out of her life. They all moved down the big ball-room together. There were little groups everywhere of laughing men and women, and the seats that ran all round the room were all occupied. The bandsmen up on the stage, ma.s.sed with palms and flags and greenery, were making quivery-quavery sounds on their instruments.
Other women came up and greeted them.
”What a crus.h.!.+... we shall have the gowns torn off our backs when the dancing begins ... don't you think it was a mistake to have the ball so early?... so hot still!”
Behind her Poppy heard one of the Maritzburg women say to the other in a low voice:
”Clem's got paint on again.... She never used to do it ... I wonder if Bill has been badly hit in the slump? There's _something_ wrong!”
”I hear that Nick came in from the camp at the last moment. Do you think it could possibly be true, Clem?” said Mrs. Cap.r.o.n.
”That depends on who told you.”
”Young Head. He said he heard someone say that Nick and your Billy were both at the Club. Perhaps they are going to surprise us by appearing.”
Mrs. Cap.r.o.n's voice did not express much enthusiasm. Clem's eyes flashed like lightning round the room, in search of young Head, and she saw him immediately, busily collecting dances. She had an inclination to rush straight over to him, but she curbed it. Another inclination that almost overwhelmed her was to fly from the hall, and take a rickshaw to the Club; but she curbed that too, though to do so cost an effort that threw up her rouge-spots more clearly by reason of the increased pallor of her cheeks. She continued to talk easily.
”How did you get here, Mary?”
”I drove down with Mrs. Lace. How do I look, darling? This is my _Mac.h.i.n.ka_ gown ... you haven't seen it before, have you?”
”Perfect, dear. I never saw you look more beautiful.... Isn't Poppy wonderful to-night, too? ... she looks like a woman who has stepped out of a dream ... no wonder the men crowd round her. If I could only catch her eye, we'd move on.”
When Poppy's card was all but full, a voice said at her elbow:
”Don't forget _me_.” Nothing could have looked more out of place in that gay ball-room than Abinger's scarred, sardonic face. But he stood there, cool and irreproachably dressed.
”I'm sorry. I'm afraid there are none left.”