Part 22 (1/2)

Her face brightened wonderfully now at the suggestion and she clasped her hands eagerly.

”Oh, will you? How lovely!”

”We'll go directly after lunch,” Forrester said, and looked at Peg.

”Will you come, Miss Fraser?”

Peg shrugged her shoulders.

”You don't want me,” she said. ”Two's company, and three's a crowd.

I've got a story to finish, too.”

”Another novelette?” Forrester asked, cynically. Most of the rooms in the flat were littered with Peg's paper-backed library, and he hated the sight of them. He had made such different plans for his future. He had meant to introduce Faith to his own friends and gradually initiate her into their mode of living, but so far there had been no opportunity. Peg ruled the flat serenely, and, though she certainly never suggested bringing her own relations or acquaintances there, her mere presence prevented Forrester from doing as he wished.

”I'd much rather you came,” Faith said quickly, but Peg only laughed.

”Then I'm not coming, so there's an end of it!”

She stuck to that, and early in the afternoon Faith and her husband drove away together. It was almost the first time they had been out without Peg since they came to live at the flat, and Forrester knew quite well that it was only the desire to see her sisters that had persuaded Faith to accompany him now.

He glanced down at her with a grim smile. She was looking better than he had seen her since her mother's death. There was a flush in her cheeks and her eyes were bright, but her thoughts were far away from him, it seemed, for she started when he spoke to her.

”I've found out about your father,” he began curtly. It was not in his nature to be a tactician, and he knew that his blunt reference to the trouble between them hurt her; but he went on doggedly:

”It's true enough. He failed owing to a syndicate formed by me, but, as far as I can remember, I personally never heard his name or saw him.” He waited, surprised at himself because he was hoping so desperately for a kind word or a little smile, but Faith only said ”Yes,” and kept her eyes steadily ahead.

”If you understood business,” he went on, ”you'd see that I am not to blame at all. Don't think I'm trying to s.h.i.+eld myself, but I like fair play.”

”Yes,” said Faith again. Then she added, with a little nervous tremble in her voice, ”I loved my father.”

The Beggar Man laughed.

”And you don't love me, you mean! I'm quite aware of that.”

She did not say any more, and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

The twins were playing in the school grounds when they reached the house, and Faith paced up and down the drawing-room in a fever of impatience while they were fetched. The head mistress was talking to Forrester. She was sure the children were quite happy, she said. They were certainly very good. ”They were always good at home,” Faith said, pa.s.sionately, forgetting how many times a day they had quarrelled and slapped one another, and screamed and cried and nearly worried poor Mrs.

Ledley to death. But time had lent a glamour of glory to most things now, and Faith could never think of her life at home without a dreary feeling of heart-sickness.

And then the twins came, and she caught her breath with a cry of wonderment, for she hardly recognized them in the healthy, well-dressed children who came demurely forward, hand in hand.

”Darlings--oh, darlings!” said Faith.

She went down on her knees and put her arms round them, kissing them rapturously.

”You haven't forgotten me? Of course, you haven't forgotten me?”

The twins returned her kisses warmly enough, and then held away a little to ask: ”Have you brought us any chocolates?”

Faith's face fell. She had forgotten the chocolates! Oh, how could she have been so selfish?