Part 65 (1/2)

Harry stood in silence, fingering his hat. He cast a glance across at them--where they stood opposite to him, side by side, her arm in Andy's.

Very fresh across his memory struck the look on her face--the trustful happiness which had followed on the tremulous joy evoked by his wonderful words. It was not his nor for him any more, that look. He hated that it should be Andy's. He gave the old impatient protesting shrug of his shoulders. What other comment was there to make? He was what he was--and these things happened! The Restless Master plays these disconcerting tricks on his devoted servants.

”Well, good-bye,” he mumbled.

”Good-bye, Harry,” said both, she in her clear soft voice, Andy in his weightier note, both with a grave pity which recognised, even as did his shrug of the shoulders, that there was no more to be said. It was just good-bye, just a parting of the ways, a severing of lives. Even good wishes would have seemed a mockery; from neither side were they offered.

With one more look, another slightest shrug, Harry Belfield turned his back on them. They stood without moving till the door closed behind him.

He was gone. Andy gave a deep sigh and dropped into the arm-chair by his office desk. Vivien bent over him, her hand on his shoulder.

”Why did you let me meet him, Andy?”

Andy was long in answering. He was revolving the processes of his own mind, the impulse under which he had acted, why he had exposed her to such an ordeal as had once been in the day's work at Nutley.

”It was a chance, your coming while he was here, we three being here together. But since it happened like that”--he raised his eyes to hers--”well, I just thought that neither of us ought to funk him.” The utterance seemed a simple result of so much cogitation.

But Vivien laughed softly as she daintily and daringly laid her hand on Andy's big head.

”If I 'funked him' still, I shouldn't have come at all,” she said. ”I think I'm just getting to know something about you, Andy. You're like some big thing in a dim light; one only sees you very gradually. I used to think of you as fetching and carrying, you know.”

Andy chuckled contentedly. ”You thought about right,” he said. ”That's what I'm always doing, just what I'm fit for. I shall go on doing it all my life, fetching and carrying for you.”

”Not only for me, I think. For everybody; perhaps even for the nation--for the world, Andy!”

He caught the little hand that was playing over his broad brow. ”For you first. As for the rest of it--!” He broke into a laugh. ”I say, Vivien, the first time I saw you I was following the hounds on foot! That's all I can do. The hunt gets out of sight, but sometimes you can tell where it's going. That's about my form. Now if I was a clever chap like Harry!”

With a laugh that was half a sob she kissed his upturned face. ”Keep me safe, keep me safe, Andy!” she whispered.

Andy slowly rose to his feet, and, turning, faced her. He took her hands in his. ”By Jove, you kissed me! You kissed me, Vivien!”

She laughed merrily. ”Well, of course I did! Isn't it--usual?”

Andy smiled. ”If things like that are going to be usual--well, life's looking a bit different!” he said.

Suddenly there were wild sounds in the outer office--a door slammed, a furious sweet voice, a swish of skirts. The door of the inner office flew open.

”What about lunch?” demanded the Nun accusingly.

”I'd forgotten it!” Vivien exclaimed.

”So had I, but I'm awfully hungry, now I come to think of it,” said Andy. ”The usual place?”

”No,” said the Nun. ”Somewhere else. Harry's there--lunching alone! The first time I ever saw him do that!” She looked at the pair of them. Her remark seemed not to make the least impression. It did not matter where or how Harry Belfield lunched. She looked again from Vivien to Andy, from Andy to Vivien.

”Oh!” she said.