In the inevitable fatigue which had marked Claire's first experience of
regular work, she had looked forward with joy to the coming of the
holidays when she would be able to take her ease, and for a month on end
laze through the hours at her own sweet will. A teacher scores above
other workers in the length of holidays she enjoys. Several months in
the year contrasts strongly with the fortnight or three weeks enjoyed by
a female clerk or typist; in no other profession is so large a
proportion of the year given to rest.
Claire had condemned the staff at Saint Cuthbert's for want of
appreciation of this privilege; but, before the four weeks of the
Christmas holidays were over, her eyes were opened to the other side of
the picture. Holidays were horribly expensive! Living "at home" meant
an added bill for fire and light to add to the necessary expenses
abroad; that the last items were necessary could hardly be denied, for a
girl who had been shut up in a schoolroom through three months of term,
naturally wished to amuse herself abroad during holiday time, and in
London even the most carefully planned amusement has a habit of costing
money.
Even that mild dissipation of shop-gazing, enjoyed by Sophie Blake, plus
the additional excitement of choosing an imaginary present from every
window, could only be enjoyed at the price of two Tube or omnibus fares.
Boots wore out, too, and gloves grew shabby, and the January sales
furnished a very fire of temptation. Claire had never before seen such
bargains as confronted her down the length of Oxford and Regent Streets,
and, though she might be firm as adamant on Monday or Tuesday, Wednesday
was bound to bring about a weak moment which carried her over the
threshold of a shop, and once inside, with sensational sacrifices
dangling within reach, resistance melted like wax.
"Where do you suppose you are going to wear that concoction?" Mary
Rhodes asked blightingly as Claire opened a cardboard box which had
arrived by the morning delivery, and displayed a blue muslin dress inset
with lace. "Lords, I suppose, or Ascot, or Ranelagh, or Hurlingham, or
Henley... They come on in June and July, just as poor High School-
mistresses are in the thick of cramming for the Matric. But _no_ doubt
you are the exception to the rule! ... You must think you are, at
least, to have bought a frock like that!"
"Cecil, it was wickedly cheap--it was, indeed! It was one of a few
summer dresses which were positively given away, and it's made in the
simple, picturesque style which I love, and which does not go out of
date. I hadn't the least intention of buying anything, until I saw it
hanging there, at that price, and it looked at me so longingly, as if it
_wanted_ to come!"
"It's well to be rich! It might have longed at me as much as it liked,
I couldn't have bought it, if it had been two-and-six! I need all my
money for necessities," Mary Rhodes said, sighing; and Claire felt a
pang of reproach, for, since her return, Cecil had indeed seemed
painfully short of loose cash. The debt still outstanding had been
increased by various small borrowings, insignificant in themselves, yet
important as showing how the wind blew. Claire wondered if perchance
the poor soul had crippled herself by presenting her lover with a
Christmas gift which was beyond her means.
The third week of the holidays arrived; in another week school would
begin. Claire succumbed to temptation once more, purchased two good
tickets for an afternoon concert at the Queen's Hall, and invited Cecil
to be her guest. Cecil hesitated, evidently torn between two
attractions, asked permission to defer her answer until the next day,
but finally decided to accept. From remarks dropped from time to time
Claire had gathered that Major Carew was not fond of indoor
entertainments, and somewhat disappointed his _fiancee_ by his
unwillingness to indulge her wishes in that respect. In this instance
she had evidently balanced the concert against an afternoon in the
Major's society, and the concert had won. Claire found herself
cordially in agreement.
When the afternoon arrived the two girls arrayed themselves in their
best clothes, and set off in high spirits for their afternoon's
amusement. Their seats were in a good position, and the concert was one
of the best of the season. All went as happily as it could possibly go,
until the last strains of "God save the King" had been played, and the
audience filed out of the hall on to the crowded pavement, and then,
with a throb of disgust, Claire recognised the figure of a man who was
standing directly beneath a lamp-post, his black eyes curiously scanning
the passing stream--Major Carew! He had evidently been told of the
girls' destination, and had come with the express purpose of meeting
them coming out. For the moment, however, they were unrecognised, and
Claire gave a quick swerve to the right, hurrying out of the patch of
light into the dimness beyond. The street was so full that, given a
minute's start, it would surely be easy to escape. She slid her hand
through Cecil's arm, drawing her forward.
"Come along! Come along! Let's hurry to Fuller's before all the tables
are taken!"
"Fuller's? Tea? How scrumptious! Just what I longed for. Listening
to classical music _is_ thirsty work!" Cecil replied, laughing. She
was so lively, so natural and unconcerted that Claire absolved her on
the moment from any arrangement as to a _rendez-vous_. In her anxiety
to secure the longed-for cup of tea she broke into a half-run, but it
was too late; the sharp black eyes had spied them out, the tall figure
loomed by their side, the large face, with its florid colouring, smiled
a broad smile of welcome.
"Hulloa, Mary! Thought it was you. I was just passing along. Good
afternoon, Miss Gifford. It _is_ Miss Gifford, isn't it? Had a good
concert, I hope--a pleasant afternoon?"
"Very good, thank you," said Claire shortly.
Mary cried, "Oh, Frank! _You_! How did you come? I didn't expect--"
And the tone of her voice showed that the surprise was hardly more
agreeable to her than to her companion. However welcome her lover might
be on other occasions, it was obvious that she had not wished to see him
at this particular moment.
"Well, well, we must move on; we mustn't block up the pavement," the
Major said hastily. He took his place by the kerb, which placed him
next to Claire, and bent over with an assiduous air. "You must let me
escort you! Where were you bound for next?"
Claire hesitated. She wished with all her heart that she had not
mentioned Fuller's, so that she could reply that they were bound for the
Tube. Oxford Circus was only a step away; in five minutes they could
have been seated in the train; but Cecil had declared that she was
longing for tea, so it would be ungracious to withdraw the invitation.
"We were going to Fuller's."
"Right!" The Major's tone was complacent. "Good idea! How shall we
go? Taxi? Tube? Which do you prefer?"
Claire stared at him in surprise.
"But it's here! Quite close. We're nearly there."
He looked disconcerted, unnecessarily disconcerted, Claire thought; for
it was surely no disgrace for a man to be ignorant of the locality of a
confectioner's shop! From the other side came Cecil's voice, cool and
constrained--
"If you were going anywhere, Frank, you needn't stay with us. We can
look after each other. We are accustomed to going about alone."
"Please allow me the pleasure. There's plenty of time. I should enjoy
some tea immensely. Always take it when I get the chance!"
The block on the pavement made consecutive conversation impossible, and
the three edged their way in and out in silence until Fuller's was
reached, and one of the last tables secured. The room looked very
bright and dainty, the Christmas garlands still festooning the walls and
framing the mirrors, the hanging lights covered by rose-coloured shades.
The soft pink light was very kind to the complexions of the visitors,
nevertheless Claire felt a guilty pang as she looked into the nearest
mirror and beheld the reflection of herself and her friend as they sat
side by side. As a rule, it was pure pleasure to realise her own fair
looks; but for the moment they were of no importance, whereas poor dear
Cecil had a lover to please, and there was no denying Cecil was not
looking her best! Her expression was frowning and dissatisfied. She
had taken off her veil in the hall and her hair was disarranged;
compared with the fashionable groups round the other tables, she looked
suddenly shabby and insignificant, her little attempts at decoration
pitifully betraying the amateur hand.
"Oh, dear me, why _won't_ she smile? She looks quite pretty when she
smiles. I'll hold her before a mirror some day and show her the
difference it makes. Ten years disappear in a flash! Now what in the
world had I better be--agreeable and chatty, or cold and stand-off?
I'll do anything to please her, but it _is_ hard lines having our
afternoon spoiled, and being sulked at into the bargain. Cakes,
please--lots of sweet, sugary cakes! Won't that do, Cecil? We can have
bread-and-butter at home!"
"Cecil! Cecil! Her name is Mary. Why do you call her Cecil?" cried
the Major quickly, looking from one girl to another. Claire fancied
there was a touch of suspicion in his voice, and wondered that he should
show so much interest in a mere nickname.
"Because she is `Rhodes,' of course."
For a moment his stare showed no understanding, then, "Oh! that fellow!"
he said slowly. "I see! It's a pretty name anyway. Beats Mary to
fits. Mary is so dull and prosaic. Too many of them about. One gets
sick of the sound."
"Is that intended for me by any chance?" asked Cecil in her most acid
tones, whereupon the Major cried, "Oh! Put my foot in it that time,
didn't I?" and burst into a long guffaw of laughter, which brought on
him the eyes of the surrounders.
Claire's interest had already been aroused by a little party of two men
and two women who were sitting at a table in the corner of the room, and
who were, to her thinking, by far the most attractive personalities
present. The men were tall, well set up, not especially handsome in any
way, but possessing an unmistakable look of breeding. One of the women
was old, the other young, and it would have been hard to say which was
the more attractive of the two. They were quietly but very elegantly
dressed, handsome furs being thrown back, to show pretty bodices of
ninon and lace.
When Major Carew gave that loud unrestrained laugh, the four members of
this attractive party turned to see whence the sound arose; but whereas
three faces remained blankly indifferent, the fourth was in the moment
transformed into an expression of the liveliest surprise. He stared,
narrowing his eyes as if doubting that they were really seeing aright,
twisted his head to get a fuller view, and, obtaining it, twisted back
into his original position, his lips twitching with laughter. Then he
spoke a few words, his companions leant forward to listen, and to two
faces out of the three, the laughter spread on hearing what he had to
say.
Only the elder of the two ladies retained her gravity. Her sweet glance
rested on Claire's face, and her brow contracted in distress. In the
Major and Cecil she showed no interest, but Claire's appearance
evidently aroused curiosity and pity. "What is _she_ doing in that
_galere_?" The question was written on every line of the sweet high-
bred face, and Claire read its significance and flinched with distaste.
"How they stare!" cried Mary Rhodes. "The man looked as if he knew you,
Frank. Do you know who he is?"
"He's a member of the Club. His name is Vavasour. We know each other
by sight." Major Carew's florid colour had grown a shade deeper, he was
evidently disconcerted by the encounter; but he made a strong effort to
regain his composure, smiled at the two girls in turn, and cried
lightly, "Envies me, I suppose, seeing me with two such charmers!"
"He didn't look exactly envious!" Cecil said drily. She also had
noticed that reflection in the mirror, and it had not helped to soothe
her spirits. She felt an unreasoning anger against Claire for appearing
more attractive than herself, but it did not occur to her that she was
heightening the contrast by her own dour, ungracious manner. Altogether
that tea-party was a difficult occasion, and as it proceeded, Claire's
spirits sank ever lower and lower. She had spent more than she had any
right to afford on those two expensive tickets, hoping thereby to give
pleasure, and now Cecil was in a bad temper, and would snap for days to
come.--It was not a cheerful outlook, and for the second time a feeling
of restiveness overtook her, a longing for a companion who would help
the gaiety of life--such a companion as pretty, lively, happy-go-lucky
Sophie Blake, for example. How refreshing it would be to live with
Sophie! Just for a moment Claire dwelt wistfully on the possibility,
then banished it with a loyal "She doesn't need me, and Cecil does.
She's fond of me in her funny way. She must be, for she has confided in
me already, more than in any of the others whom she's known for years,
and perhaps I may be able to help..."
The Major passed his cup for a second supply; a waitress brought a plate
of hot cakes; the occupants of the corner table stood up, fastening furs
and coats, and passed out of the door. With their going Major Carew
regained his vivacity, chaffed the girls on their silence, recounted the
latest funny stories, and to Claire's relief addressed himself primarily
to his _fiancee_, thus putting her in the place of honour.
Nevertheless Claire was conscious that from time to time keen glances
were cast in her own direction. She had a feeling that no detail of her
attire escaped scrutiny, that the black eyes noted one and all,
wondered, and speculated, and appraised. She saw them dwell on the
handsome fur stole and muff which Mrs Judge bequeathed to her daughter
on sailing for India, on the old diamond ring and brooch which had been
handed over to her on her twenty-first birthday; she had an instinctive
feeling that she rose in the man's estimation because of her air of
prosperity. He made tentative efforts to arrange a further meeting.
"Where do _you_ go on Sundays, Miss Gifford? I say, we must arrange
another tea like this. Lots of good tea places in town. We must sample
them together. What do you say, Miss Gifford?"
Claire's answers were politely evasive, and presently he began to grow
restless, and finally pulled out his watch, and jumped to his feet.
"How time flies! I had no idea it was so late. I must run. So sorry
to leave you like this."
Mary Rhodes stared in surprise.
"Leave! Frank! But you said--I thought we were going--"
"Yes, I know, I know. I'm sorry, I thought I was free--but--a
regimental engagement! Can't get out of it. I'll fix up another night.
I'll write."
There was no doubt that he was genuinely disconcerted at the lateness of
the hour, and his leave-taking was of the most hasty description, though
he found time to give a lingering pressure to Claire's hand; then he was
gone, and the waitress came across the room and presented the bill.
Cecil flushed uncomfortably.
"I must pay this. Frank has forgotten. He rushed off in such a hurry."
She pulled out her shabby purse, and Claire made no protest. In a
similar position she herself would have wished to pay, but it was
inconceivable that she should ever be in such a position. However
hurried a man might be-- She rubbed her hand on her knee with a little
shudder of distaste. "Wretch! He would make love to me, too, if I
would allow it! How can Cecil possibly care for such a man?"
And then she forgot Cecil's feelings to ponder on a more perplexing
problem.
Why had the man called Vavasour looked so amused, and why had the sweet-
faced woman looked so distressed?