Part 59 (2/2)
”You mustn't listen to ill-natured gossip. Just an old friend! But it's not very likely I should have asked her to come to-day.”
The Nun and her party entered, and sat down at the other end of the balcony.
”There's that girl you were talking to. Look round; she's sitting facing me.”
”Oh yes, Doris Flower!”
”An old friend too? You seemed to be having a very confidential conversation at least.”
”On the most strictly unsentimental footing. Really there you may believe me!” Harry's voice fell to an artistic whisper. ”Did you come only to tease me?”
”I don't think you care much whether I tease you or not,” said Lady Lucy.
He was helping her to wine; he held the bottle, she held the gla.s.s.
Somehow it chanced that their hands touched. Lady Lucy blushed a little and glanced at Harry. ”How shall I persuade you that I care?” asked Harry.
The Nun's host--at the other end of the balcony--turned to her. ”You're not very talkative to-day, Miss Doris!”
”Oh, I'm sorry: There's always so much to look at at the other tables, isn't there?”
”Pretty much the same old lot!” remarked the host--an experienced youth.
”Pretty much!” agreed the Nun serenely.
Chapter XXV.
THE LAST FIGHT.
On a fine Sunday evening in the following autumn Belfield and Andy Hayes sat over their wine, the ladies having, as usual, adjourned to the garden. Among their number were included the Nun and Sally Dutton; a second stay at Meriton had broken down Sally's shyness. Belfield and his wife were just back from London, whither they had gone to see their grandchild, Harry's first-born son. All had gone well, and Belfield was full of impressions of his visit. His natural pleasure in the birth of the child was damped by Harry's refusal to promise to take up his residence at Halton when his turn came.
”But I did get him to promise not to sell--only to let; so his son may live here, though mine won't.” He looked older and more frail; his mind moved in a near future which, near as it was, he would not see.
”I sometimes think,” he went on, ”that the professional moralists, all or most of our preachers of one sort and another--and who doesn't preach nowadays?--take too narrow a view. Their table of virtues isn't comprehensive enough. Now my boy Harry, with all his faults, is never disagreeable. What an enormous virtue! Negative, if you like, but enormous! What a lot of pain and discomfort he doesn't give! All through this domestic business his behaviour has been admirable--so kind, so attentive, so genuinely concerned, so properly gratified. Upon my word, seeing him in his own home, you'd think he was a model! That's a good deal. His weakness comes in to save him there; he must be popular--even in his own house!”
”Oh, this event'll do them no end of good, sir,” said Andy, ever ready to clutch again at the elusive skirts of optimism.
”Some, no doubt,” Belfield cautiously agreed. ”And she's a brave woman--I'll say that for her. She understands him, and she loves him.
When I saw her, we had a reconciliation on that basis. We let the past alone--I wasn't anxious to meet her on that ground--and made up our minds to the future. Her work is to keep things going, to prevent a smash. She must shut her eyes sometimes--pretty often, I'm afraid. He'll always be very pleasant to her, if she'll do that. In fact, the worse he's behaving the pleasanter the rogue will be. I know him of old in that.”
”Has he any plans?” asked Andy.
Belfield smiled. ”Oh yes. He's got a plan for wintering in Algeria; they'll go as soon as she's well enough, stopping in Paris _en route_.
Yes, he's really full of plans--for enjoying himself and meeting friends he likes. There's a Lady Lucy Somebody who's got the finest motor-car on earth. She's going to be in Paris. Oh, well, there it is! Plans of any other sort are dropped. He's dropped them; she's had to drop them--after a good deal of fighting, so she told me. He makes no definite refusals; he puts her off, laughs it off, shunts it, you know, and goes on his own way. One didn't understand how strong that had grown in him--the dislike of any responsibilities or limits. Being answerable to anybody seems to vex him. I think he even resents our great expectations, though we go out of our way to let him see that we've honestly abandoned them! A pleasant drifting over summer seas, with agreeable company, and plenty of variety in it! That's the programme. We shall probably be wise to add a few storms and a good many minor squalls to get a true idea of it.”
”It doesn't seem to lead to much.”
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