“Well, I’m greatly obliged,” said Miss Cloke, with a dry laugh. “It was
a good thing I wrote, wasn’t it?”
“It was Fate,” said Crispin piously. “‘There’s a divinity that shapes
our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.’”
“No doubt,” said Eleanor. “Any way, you’ve opened my eyes—wide. . . .
By the way, have you got my, er, application or did you leave it on the
piano?”
Crispin began to search his pockets.
“I had it,” he murmured. “I remember thinking when I was dressing ‘I
must not leave that about.’”
“Never mind,” said Eleanor in a shaking voice. “I expect the servants
have found it and thrown it away.”
“Here it is,” said Crispin triumphantly.
Eleanor snatched the letter and thrust it into her bag.
Then she rose to her feet.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I think I’ll go. Don’t let me take you
away. I’m only sorry to have put you to so much expense.”
“My dear,” said Crispin, “the thought that I’ve opened your eyes makes
it cheap at the price.”
“It is obvious,” said Eleanor, “that the great thing in life is to know
oneself.”
“That’s the idea,” cried Crispin, thumping the table with his fist.
“You’ve got it in one, Nell. And it’s never too late to begin.”
Speechless with indignation, Miss Cloke regarded him.
Then she recovered her face and began to shake with laughter. . . .
Crispin watched her open-mouthed.
At last she pulled herself together and passed to the door.
“Poor . . . old . . . Madge,” she said deliberately.
Crispin swallowed.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said. “She’s only rather tired.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Eleanor. “I think I should be—_rather tired_
. . . after five years.”
The next second she was gone.
Captain Willoughby took out a handkerchief and proceeded to mop his
face. Then he stepped to a mirror and adjusted his tie.
“And they think they’re acting,” he muttered, jerking his head towards
the box. “Well, well—it’s all in the day’s work. . . .” He fell to
pulling his moustache. Suddenly he burst out laughing. “What a game Life
is!” he cried. “I try to protect my own skin, and they give me the V.C.;
I deliberately scrap my reputation to do a girl a good turn, and—and it
costs me a jolly good friend and seven quid.” He lighted a cigarette and
picked up his coat. “I wonder how Madge has got on,” he continued
musingly. “And perhaps it’ld be as well if I had a look at the play. I
can’t reappear till it’s over, and she might ask what it’s about.”
He hung up his coat, extinguished his cigarette and entered the box.
* * * * *
The wedding of David Herrick and Eleanor Cloke took place early in May
and was a brilliant success.
The bride looked extraordinarily beautiful, and if the dignity of her
gait was slightly affected, that was a fault upon the right side.
At the reception the bridegroom, who had eaten no lunch, ate nothing at
all. I imagine he had decided that the occasion was one upon which no
risks should be run.
Captain and Mrs. Willoughby were among the guests.
The tongues which had recently wagged fairly spouted the ‘Amens,’ and
afterwards slobbered over the ‘enchanting atmosphere of a true
love-match.’ Subduing a feeling of nausea, Madge and Crispin agreed
enthusiastically.
The relations, however, between the Herricks and Willoughbys seemed to
leave something to be desired. The old familiar affection seemed to have
been superseded by a boisterous cordiality which was rather too hearty
to be true.
These conditions prevailed until the month of July.
It was then for the first time that Mr. and Mrs. Herrick spent
twenty-four hours apart. And that was against their will—they were
really absurdly in love. But Eleanor had a cold, and Tattersall’s Sale
Ring may be a draughty place. . . .
For all that, Madge Willoughby was there, and she and David had an
engaging talk—so engaging, in fact, that the mare which he had come to
Newmarket to buy became the property of another at less than half the
figure to which Herrick was prepared to go.
That same July morning Mrs. Herrick received a note.
_Nell dear,_
_I gave you back your letter because you asked for it, but to
part with it went against the grain rather more than did
anything else I had to do that night. You see, next to Madge, I
love you rather better than anyone else, and I was so pleased to
know that, next to David, you felt the same about me. Besides,
to be strictly truthful, it was the only ‘application’ I’d ever
had. . . . Still, perhaps it’s as well._
_One or two confessions you’ll value._
_First, before your delivery of the word ‘waddle,’ I almost
broke down. I never could have believed that so much withering
contempt could be compressed into so homely a dissyllable.
Secondly, I never missed one of your thrusts; they were superb.
Finally, never to my dying day shall I know how, when first you
were standing by the table, I resisted the temptation to take
you in my arms. Before we got down to it, I mean. Nell,
it—was—irresistible. . . . Yet, I came through. Truly,
‘There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we
will.’_
_Crispin._