claudia was spending the week-end out of town at holme court, wargrave, where one of her aunts, mrs. armesby croft, always spent a good part of the summer. gilbert had also been invited and her brother jack, but jack had refused to go.

she was coming down the stairs on the friday morning and heard a familiar whistling. jack’s door was open, and the musical-comedy tune—rather flat—proceeded from his room.

“jack, i do wish you wouldn’t whistle so flat. can’t you get your whistle manicured, or something?”

“hallo! claud, that you? come in, i’m nearly all there.”

the late hours he habitually kept had not yet left any mark on jack iverson. this morning he looked wonderfully young and fresh, although he had not tumbled into bed until past three. youth has a magnificent elasticity, and he looked like a modern god that has tubbed and shaved and is ready for a good breakfast.

“why aren’t you coming down to wargrave?” inquired claudia, sauntering into his apartment. “it’s just the week-end for the river.”

“maybe i am going on the river,” said jack, with a knowing air, settling his tie in the mirror. “i’ve had on seven ties this morning. how’s this one?”

“looks all right. i don’t notice anything wrong, so i suppose it’s all right. that’s the test of men’s dressing, isn’t it? why not wargrave?”

[76]

“because, though aunt margaret is a clinking good sort and keeps a jolly good table, she is not a ravishing companion. you’re only my sister, and—’nuff said.”

claudia looked at him, and her lip curled. “that means you are going up the river with a ravishing companion, i suppose?”

“thou supposeth rightly, oh, wise one! she’s just the most fascinating thing you ever struck.”

“which musical comedy?” queried claudia, running her eyes over the collection of invitation cards and pretty women on his mantelshelf. the portraits had inscriptions on them of considerable fervour, and she noticed a family resemblance in the handwritings, which were either sprawly or very dashing, with huge flourishes at the end like a stockwhip in action.

“never you mind. but she’s a duck, the very thing for a steam-launch. got the neatest thing in ankles you ever saw. beastly taking a woman with thick ankles on the river. they’re best hidden under a dinner-table.”

“can she talk about anything?” asked claudia curiously, picking up a photograph of a smile and a shoulder.

“she can talk well enough when she wants to. oh! i know you, claudia, we’ve had this discussion before. i’ve told you i don’t like clever women. i hate a girl who wants to impress you and talks like a smart novel. give me a nice, affectionate little thing who’s got a string of funny stories and doesn’t make too many demands on a fellow. she’s worth a hundred clever women, with their soaring nonsense.”

“is she?” claudia looked at him thoughtfully as he put his watch in his waistcoat. “i often wonder why you and men like you prefer to spend your time with—well, affectionate little things, rather than with girls in your own set. personally, i can’t understand your taste. i[77] am sure these girls have common ways and petty thoughts. i couldn’t stand a musical-comedy man for five minutes.”

“oh! that’s different. the men are awful bounders; you’re quite right. i’d like to see one of them make up to you!”

“why is it so different?”

“well, it is. i can’t explain things like that to you, but it is. you’re brainy, old girl, and i don’t pretend to be brainy. a lot of good brains do a woman, unless she’s a schoolmistress. not that ruby is stupid. she’s—well, she’s bright, if you know what i mean. she knows how to get what she wants, and knows her way about.”

“the cleverness of the gamin,” observed claudia coolly.

“well, anyway, she’s clever enough for me. you can be easy and comfortable with her, and she’s an amusing companion. doesn’t go in for moods and all that nonsense. i like ’em bright and chirpy, i confess. if you girls only knew how your confounded moods and fancies bore a fellow. why, look at you. you’re full of whims and fancies. you can be an awfully good companion if you like—none better; but one never knows what you will want the next moment. you women expect us to transpose ourselves to your key every few minutes. it’s a damned nuisance, claudia. take my advice, don’t try too many moods on with gilbert.”

“you think there is much in common between you and gilbert?” claudia’s voice was sarcastic.

“yes more than you think,” flashed out jack unexpectedly. “oh! i know all about his brains, but otherwise he’s much the same as me. he doesn’t care enough about women generally to make a study of ’em.”

“i’m glad of that.”

“he’s too indifferent, and i’m too lazy,” continued young iverson, bent on pursuing his train of thought.[78] “i daresay women are nice to me because i’ve got plenty of money—you are right in some cases—but as long as they are nice, what matters?”

“from your point of view, not at all, if you only want a woman as a mere plaything, to smile automatically the moment you appear, and produce a funny story when you turn a handle. you want a doll, jack, not a woman, a pretty, jointed doll, that squeaks ‘darling’ when you come up to it, and which you can pick up when you like and drop when you like.”

“my dear girl,” said jack, with a condescending smile “you can’t understand. women never do understand these things. they talk a lot about sex nowadays, but it’s all talk. the proposition is quite a simple one, if you women wouldn’t wrap it up with complexities.”

“well, i’m glad i don’t understand,” she returned warmly. “and if i were a man i don’t think i should understand either. i hope i should be more fastidious.” she pounced on a jeweller’s morocco case. “hallo! may i look, jack?”

jack nodded. he rather liked claudia when she was not too brainy and analytical.

she opened the case with a click. it contained a very handsome pendant with pearl drop and a big ruby in the centre.

“pretty, isn’t it?” said jack complacently. “the ruby was my own idea—her name—d’yer see?”

“quite subtle,” said claudia gravely; “but i daresay, if you explain it, she’ll see the point.”

“eh? oh, well! they like a little present occasionally. and if you saw her pleasure at anything you give her—well, you feel you want to go and buy her the whole shopfull at once.”

“h’m. i think i was wrong in suggesting she was not clever. let’s go down to breakfast, jacky.”

“you see,” said jack confidentially, as they went down[79] the stairs, “a fellow likes to be appreciated. you remember that, my dear, now you are going to be married. don’t have any moods, and always be appreciative and bright. that does the trick every time. take my advice.”

“thank you. i’ll be sure and remember. appreciative and bright. i might have it framed.”

“don’t you fancy i don’t know anything about women. you’re a nut, claudia, i admire you no end, but really you make too great demands on a chap. come on, i could eat a tin can this morning.”

later that day claudia was lying very comfortably in a big wicker chair under an old elm-tree at holme court, when gilbert arrived. he looked noticeably tired and fagged, for the week had been a very hot one, and he had been hard at it. he did not specially remark the pretty picture she made in her cool white linen against the green background, but he appreciated the shade of the elm. his chambers were abominably stuffy.

“poor boy!” said claudia softly. “you’re tired, i can see. i’ll be soothing. you don’t want me to tell funny stories, do you?”

gilbert’s eyes opened in blank surprise, but he caught the twinkle in her eyes, and the smouldering laugh in the corners of her mouth as she watched him. he knew there was a joke somewhere, but he was much too hot and tired to worry it out. instead he looked at claudia’s mouth, which was soft and red, with a most provocative pout.

“it’s too warm even to laugh. but it’s nice and cool here.” he dropped into a chair with a huge sigh of content.

“we are all alone here,” said claudia happily. “the others have gone on the river, but i waited for you.” there was no one in sight except a couple of birds hopping about in search of a worm. “i am going to give you[80] some tea out here, and then we will go down and get one of the boats out.” she dropped a kiss on his hair, which already had several silver threads in it. “i thought i’d stop and mother a poor tired boy! somehow—wasn’t it ridiculous of me?—i fancied you would like to have me all to yourself.” she laughed a little. “it’s rather nice to have someone to pet and fuss over. i’ve never had anyone who would let me do it. mother hates us even to kiss her—we do it once a year, at christmas, when we thank her for her present—and pat is too tom-boyish to like being petted. i had to fall back on billie. he can stand any amount of it, but still—well, he’s only a dog.”

“does that mean i have cut out billie,” said gilbert lazily. her hands, with their soft, rather mesmeric finger-tips, gave him agreeable sensations in keeping with idle hours and summer days.

“no, it doesn’t. as a matter of fact i feel so happy that i could pet the whole world!”

“a tall order! but, i say, i’d rather you didn’t do it to the masculine half. they might misunderstand your mothering instinct.”

she laughed and dropped another kiss on his hair before she went back to her seat among the cushions. involuntarily he put up his hand and smoothed his hair, which was in no way disturbed. it was thick and straight, and spoke of his abundant energy.

“gilbert! don’t brush my kisses off. you are ungallant.”

“sorry, dear. i didn’t mean to brush them off, but a man hates the idea that his hair has got ruffled.”

“that’s because you are afraid of looking ridiculous! men are very dignified animals, aren’t they? i believe you’re a particularly dignified, conventional specimen!”

the maid was approaching with the tea-tray. as she came across the lawn, the silver caught the rays of the[81] sun and threw them back in radiant shafts of light. the maid’s cap and apron seemed dazzlingly white against the green and blue of the sky and garden.

“of course, i’m conventional,” responded gilbert. “haven’t you discovered that before? only weak people are unconventional.”

claudia pondered this saying as she watched the maid arrange the table.

“i don’t believe that is altogether true,” she said at length, taking hold of the teapot.

“of course not. nothing is altogether true and nothing is altogether false. plenty of milk, please.”

“i don’t believe i have a conventional, tidy mind. i can imagine myself doing quite unconventional things, and i don’t believe i should realize they were unconventional till i looked back.”

“that’s having no mind at all.” he looked at her teasingly. “the little pink abominations out of the cake-basket, please.”

“and then you’d be terribly shocked and put on your barrister air, and say ‘didn’t you know that ...?’ you don’t altogether hold a brief for conventionality, do you?”

“it’s the safest and most convenient path,” he said, stirring his tea. “personally, i have no quarrel with convention.”

“don’t you believe that circumstances may sometimes force you to do unconventional things when convention means death to the spirit?”

“i make allowances for weakness, because weakness is the rule and strength the exception. the world gets weaker-willed and more neurotic every day. that’s why one hears so much talk of ‘individuality,’ ‘independence,’ et cetera. more cake, please.”

claudia shook her head, not at the request for more cake, but at his dicta.

[82]

“that’s not right. you are making no allowance for temperament. sometimes it’s really brave to be unconventional.”

“more often weak and cowardly,” retorted gilbert, “and the unconventional people usually put other people in a hopeless mess.”

“i don’t believe you were ever tempted to do anything unconventional.” claudia looked at him, and it crossed her mind that he was very unlike her mother’s friends.

“no, i don’t pretend to have withstood great temptations in that line. ‘trespassers will be prosecuted’ doesn’t enrage me. i put the same notice-board on my own property, and am content.”

“i see. will that notice-board cover—your wife?” she was smiling at him, but there was a hint of earnest in the dark eyes.

“most certainly, madam. the rest of the world may admire you—from a safe distance.” he found her looking very pretty behind the silver, the sun through the green branches just flecking her hair. “i warn you i should not make a complaisant husband if i found someone trespassing.” he laughed as he said it, but there was a decided champ of his jaws, which she noticed and secretly admired.

“and i shouldn’t be marrying you if i thought you would,” she replied, with a sudden touch of fire in her voice. “one sees so much of that and it is so—so horrible. one despises the husband more than the wife.” then she went on more slowly. “i think most women feel the same about it, although they say they want perfect freedom in such matters. women are playing a game of bluff nowadays. they don’t want a husband to be complaisant.”

he looked across at her, and his mother’s warnings came back to him. claudia like her mother? why,[83] she had just naively acknowledged that she only wanted to be dominated by a strong man. geoffrey iverson had always been a slackster. a weak man makes a circe. if a man cannot hold a woman, he deserves and must expect to lose her. life to-day is not so far removed from savagery after all. the strong man always wins. and had he not won so far all along the line? had he not taken and kept all that he needed? his mother did not understand that there was no cause to fear. a palmist had once told him that he possessed an indomitable will. he knew that she was right. his thoughts flew back, induced by the peace and quiet, to the last few years at the bar. he had out-distanced all his rivals. men who had eaten their dinners at the same time as he were still unknown, briefless. and some of them had shown brilliant promise, some of them had worked hard, too. he knew that already, although he was so young, there was a rumour that he might shortly be taking silk.

claudia, her chin propped on the palm of her hand, had been watching him, and with a woman’s swift uncanny intuition she knew that he had ceased to think of her, that she had lost touch with him. with a touch of jealousy she cried:

“gilbert, come back to me. of what were you thinking?”

he came back at once, but without the faintest comprehension that she had felt left out in the cold, had divined that she had a serious rival.

“suppose i say i was thinking of nothing in particular?”

she shook her head. “it wouldn’t be true. you were thinking of something that pleased you and—and interested you enormously. your eyes were dark with thought, and there was a glint in them—— ah! you were back in your chambers with your briefs?”

he laughed.

[84]

“yes, i was right. you had deliberately left this sweet, sunny garden and—and me, and gone back to those stuffy chambers. we haven’t seen one another for four days, and you’d gone back to your work.”

there was an edge to her voice that roused him.

“claudia, dear, i am very happy here with you, but one can’t control one’s thoughts or shut watertight doors on one’s affairs. a woman’s life is different. men cannot help mingling their business with their pleasure.”

“you mean we have nothing else to think of but you?” she threw up her head at an angle which was particularly becoming, and showed the softness and whiteness of her throat in the collarless dress.

“no,” he said, “but you haven’t any big objective in life. my dear claudia, if you understood the keen competition nowadays, you wouldn’t mind a man’s thoughts straying back to the fray. you don’t really, you are much too clever to want a stupid, love-sick swain who can talk or think of nothing else but love. you have said many times that you are in complete sympathy with my ambitions. don’t be feminine and illogical. i was flattering myself”—he put his hand on hers with his most engaging smile—“that i had won a super-feminine and logical wife.”

“i am in sympathy with you gilbert.” she carefully kept her eyes from his face, as though that would break the chain of her thoughts. “and i don’t want you to be a stupid, love-sick swain, but——” how could she make him understand without seeming petty and unreasonable? “gilbert,” she went on quickly, determined to say frankly what she was thinking, “is everything in your life subservient to your work? sometimes you talk as if everything else—as though we were the rungs upon which you mounted the ladder. when you talk of wasting time—things being trivial and not worth while—your face becomes so contemptuous and hard[85] and engrossed it makes me frightened. i want you to have a career; i wouldn’t have married an idle man. i will help you in every way i can; i shan’t expect impossible attention—but, gilbert, i want our marriage to mean something to you, a big something.”

she paused for breath, and he opened his lips to speak, but she signed to him to be silent.

“let me finish. i couldn’t bear to think that your work was everything to you, and that i—i was merely the hausfrau that bore your name and sat at your table. it might be enough for some women, but it wouldn’t be enough for me. i warn you that if you ever let me drop into the background of life i—i don’t know what i might not do. i told you just now that i wasn’t conventional. love is the only convention that i own. gilbert, tell me something quite truthfully. if i am asking things you can’t give me, let us break off the engagement before it is too late. i want”—her voice broke a little and her eyes were dimmed with feeling—“i want a great deal of love. i’ve never had it, you know, and i—i’m so hungry. if i didn’t love you, i shouldn’t be talking like this. you know i love you; but you—you—gilbert——”

she had risen from her seat and faced him. she was very much in earnest, and her mouth trembled like a child’s. her full, rounded bosoms under the linen and lace heaved with her quick heart-beats; her eyes asked piteously for love.

she was very beautiful in that moment. she was young and fresh and fragrant, with not a touch of artifice about her. there was no man alive that would not have been touched by her beautiful, pleading eyes. she promised so much. the hint of passion in her eyes and colouring would have allured any man, and gilbert was by nature a passionate animal. passion and ambition had[86] warred from his youth, and he had deliberately crushed out his warm human instincts. until he met claudia they had been absolutely under control. now, as on the night he had proposed to her, something swept over him like a huge wave and swamped his brain. he only knew that he desired this girl and that he had never been thwarted in anything he had set his heart upon. he did love her; what more could she want? she was young and immature; she did not understand that man’s feelings may be the deeper for not finding constant expression. later, when they were married, she would understand better.

he forgot they were in the garden of holme court—in his cooler moments he was desperately afraid of any demonstrations of affection—and he sprang to his feet and caught her in his strong arms. he showered kisses on her passionate, trembling lips, kisses that sent a wild thrill of fearful joy through her, that made the placid, sunny garden rock and reel before her eyes, and gave her a vivid glimpse of what marriage might mean. and no man had ever roused her passions before. this man had always had the power to do so since the dinner-party when he had held her hand in his and asked if he might claim the privileges of old friendship and call her claudia. something had stirred uneasily then.

“if—if he has this power over me, if he can rouse the woman in me,” she reasoned, “he must be the right man, the man i should marry.” it was the simple, true mating of nature. surely, surely all would be well?

“you do—you do love me very much, don’t you? i am more to you than your work?”

her lips had intoxicated him so that he would have told her any lie so that she did not elude him. but he really thought he was speaking the truth, that there was something more than mere sex attraction between them.

“yes, yes,” he cried fiercely, with the conquering note[87] of the male; “can’t you feel?—don’t you know?—kiss me, kiss me——”

it was several minutes before they went back to the pink abominations and the more sober discussion of their wedding.