Julian's first impulse was to drive to the town hall and carry Stella
off. He was debarred from doing so only by a secret fear that she might
refuse to come. He was a little afraid of this first meeting with
Stella. She might haul him over the coals as much as she liked; but he
wanted to stage-manage the position of the coals.
He decided after a few moments of reflection to ring her up on the
telephone. The porter at the other end said that Miss Waring was still
at work, and seemed to think that this settled the question of any
further effort on his part. Julian speedily undeceived him. He used
language to the town hall porter which would have lifted every separate
hair from Mr. Travers's head. It did not have this effect upon the
porter. He was a man who appreciated language, and he understood that
there was an expert at the other end of the line. It even spurred him
into a successful search for Stella.
"That you, Stella?" Julian asked, "Do you know who's speaking to you?"
There was a pause before she answered a little unsteadily:
"Yes, Julian."
"Well," said Julian, with an anxiety he could hardly keep out of his
voice, "I want to see you for a few minutes if you can spare the time.
Will you come to the Carlton to tea? I suppose I mustn't ask you to my
rooms."
"I can't do either," replied Stella. "I'm too busy. Can't you wait till
Saturday?"
"Impossible," Julian replied firmly. "May I come and fetch you in a
taxi? I suppose you don't dine and sleep at the town hall, do you?"
"No, you mustn't do that," said Stella, quickly; "but you can come to
the Cottage Dairy Company, which is just opposite here, if you like. I
shall go there for a cup of tea at five o'clock. I can spare you half an
hour, perhaps."
"Oh, you will, will you?" said Julian, grimly. "I suppose I
must be thankful for what I can get. Five sharp, then, at the
what-you-may-call-'em."
Stella put up the receiver, but he thought before she did so that he
heard her laugh.
Julian had never been to the Cottage Dairy Company before. It was a very
nice, clean, useful little shop, and there was no necessity for him to
take such an intense dislike to it. The rooms are usually full, and for
reasons of space the tables are placed close together. The tables are
marble-topped and generally clean. There is not more smell of inferior
food than is customary in the cheaper restaurants of London.
Julian arrived at five minutes to the hour, and he turned the place
literally upside down. It did no good, because Cottage Dairy Companies
are democratic, and do not turn upside down to advantage.
He only succeeded in upsetting a manageress and several waitresses, and
terrifying an unfortunate shop-girl who was occupying the only table in
the room at which Julian could consent to sit by standing over her until
she had finished her tea, half of which she left in consequence.
Stella was ten minutes late; by the time she arrived Julian had driven
away the shop-girl, had the table cleared, and frozen every one in the
neighborhood who cast longing glances at the empty place in front of
him. He was consumed with fury at the thought that in all probability
Stella had had two meals a day for six months in what he most unfairly
characterized as a "loathsome, stinking hole."
As a matter of fact, Stella had not been able to afford the Cottage
Dairy Company. She had had her meals at the People's Restaurant, which
is a little cheaper and not quite so nice.
Julian's anger failed him when he saw Stella's face. She looked ill. He
could not speak at first, and Stella made no attempt whatever to help
him. She merely dropped her umbrella at his feet, sat down opposite him,
and trembled.
"How dare you come to this infernal place?" Julian asked her at last,
with readjusted annoyance, "and why didn't you tell me you were ill?"
Then he ordered tea from a hovering waitress. "If you have anything
decent to eat, you can bring it," he said savagely.
Stella smiled deprecatingly at the outraged waitress before she answered
Julian.
"I'm not ill," she said gently, "and I couldn't very well tell you
anything, could I, when I didn't know where you were?"
"Of course, if you make a point of eating and drinking poison," said
Julian, bitterly, "you aren't likely to be very well. I suppose you
could have told my mother, but no doubt that didn't occur to you. You
simply wished--" He stopped abruptly at the approach of the waitress.
Stella did not try to pour out the tea; she showed no proper spirit
under Julian's unjust remarks. She only put her elbows on the table and
looked at him.
"There, drink that," he said, "if you can. It's the last chance you'll
get of this particular brand. They call it China, and it looks like dust
out of a rubbish-heap. I don't know what you call that thing on the
plate in front of you, but I suppose it's meant to eat. So you may as
well try to eat it."
"Food," said Stella, with the ghost of her old fugitive smile, "isn't
everything, Julian."
"It's all you'll get me to talk about in a place like this," said
Julian, firmly. "I wonder you didn't suggest our meeting in one of those
shelters on the Strand! Do you realize that there's a Hindu two yards to
your right, a family of Belgian refugees behind us, and the most
indescribable women hemming us in on every side? How can you expect us
to talk here?"
"But you and I are here," said Stella, quietly. "Julian, how could you
believe what Eurydice told you?"
Julian lowered his eyes.
"Must I tell you now?" he asked gravely. "I'd rather not."
"Yes, I think you must," said Stella, relentlessly, "You needn't tell me
much, but you must say enough for me to go on with. If you don't, I
can't talk at all; I can only be afraid."
Julian kept his eyes on a tea-stained spot of marble. There was no
confidence in his voice now; it was not even very steady as he answered
her.
"I made a mistake," he said. "You weren't there. I wanted you to have
everything there was. I can't explain. I ought to have let you choose,
but if you'd chosen wrong I should have felt such a cur. I can't say any
more here. Please, Stella!"
She was quick to let him off.
"I oughtn't to have left you so soon," she said penitently; "that was
_quite_ my fault."
Julian made no answer. He drew an imaginary pattern on the table with a
fork; he couldn't think why they'd given him a fork unless it was a
prevision that he would need something to fidget with. It helped him to
recover his assurance.
"I suppose you know," he said reflectively, contemplating the
unsuspicious Hindu on his right, "that I'm never going to let you out of
my sight again?"
"I dare say I shall like being alone sometimes," replied Stella; "but I
don't want you to go calmly off and arrange things that break us both to
pieces. I'd never see you again rather than stand that!"
"Now," said Julian, "you've roused the Belgians; they're awfully
interested. I'll never go off again, though you're not very accurate; it
was you that went off first. I only arranged things, badly I admit, when
I was left alone. I wasn't so awfully calm. As far as that goes, I've
been calmer than I am now. Have you had enough tea?"
"You know it's you I mind about," said Stella, under her breath.
"You mustn't say that kind of thing in a tea-shop," said Julian,
severely. "You're very nearly crying, and though I'd simply love to have
you cry, I believe it's against the regulations. And there's a fat lady
oozing parcels to my left who thinks it's all my fault, and wants to
tell me so."
"I'm not crying," said Stella, fiercely. "I'm going back to work. I
don't believe you care about anything but teasing."
"I don't believe I do," agreed Julian, with twinkling eyes; "but I
haven't teased any one for six months, you know, Stella. How much may I
tip the waitress? Let's make it something handsome; I've enjoyed my tea.
I'll take you across to the town hall."
"It's only just the other side of the road," Stella objected.
"Still, I'd like you to get into this taxi," said Julian, hailing one
from the door.
Stella looked at him searchingly. "I should be really angry if you
tried to carry me off," she warned him.
"My dear Stella," said Julian, meeting her eyes imperturbably, "I
haven't the nerve to try such an experiment. I'm far too much afraid of
you. Get in, won't you? The man'll give me a hand." He turned to the
driver. "Drive wherever you like for a quarter of an hour," he
explained, "and then stop at the town hall."
The taxi swung into the darkened thoroughfare, and Julian caught Stella
in his arms and kissed her as if he could never let her go.
"Not very clever of you," he murmured, "not to guess why I wanted a
taxi."
[Illustration: "Not very clever of you," he murmured, "not to guess why
I wanted a taxi"]
Stella clung to him speechlessly. She did not know what to say; she only
knew that he was there and that the desperate loneliness of the empty
world was gone.
She wanted to speak of the things that she believed in, she wanted not
to forget to reassure him, in this great subdual of her heart; but she
did not have to make the effort. It was Julian who spoke of these things
first.
He spoke hurriedly, with little pauses for breath, as if he were
running.
"I know now," he said, "I've been a fool and worse. I saw it as soon as
I looked at you; it broke me all up. How could I tell you'd mind losing
a man like me? I'm glad it's dark; I'm glad you can't see me. I'm
ashamed. Stella, the fact is, I gave you up because I couldn't stick it;
my nerve gave way."
"I shouldn't have left you so soon; it was all my fault for leaving
you," Stella murmured.
"That rather gives the show away, doesn't it," asked Julian "not to be
able to stand being left?"
"You weren't thinking only of yourself," Stella urged defensively.
"Wasn't I?" said Julian. "I kept telling myself I was behaving decently
when I was only being grand. Isn't that thinking of yourself?"
"But on the downs," urged Stella, "you weren't like that, darling."
"You were on the downs, remember," said Julian. "I got your point of
view then--to give in, anyhow, to love. It wasn't easy, but it made it
more possible that if I didn't marry you, you only had hard work and a
dull life. It seemed different when I heard about that fellow Travers.
You see, that cut me like a knife. I kept thinking--well, you know what
a man like me keeps thinking--at least I don't know that you do. It was
my business to fight it through alone."
"No it isn't," Stella protested quickly. "We haven't businesses that
aren't each other's."
"Well," admitted Julian, "I couldn't bear thinking I'd cheated you out
of my own values; so I let yours slide. I knew, if I gave you the
choice, you'd stick to me; but I couldn't trust you not to make a
mistake. That's where my nerve broke down."
"Ah, but I didn't know," whispered Stella; "I didn't know enough how to
show you I loved you. If you'd seen, you wouldn't have broken down. I
was afraid to try. Now I can. All these six months have eaten up my not
knowing how." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "You see,
I do know how!"
He held her close, without speaking; then he murmured: "And knowing how
doesn't make you afraid?"
"It's the only thing that doesn't," said Stella, lifting her eyes to
his.
The taxi stopped before the door of the town hall.
"And have I got to let you go now?" Julian asked gently.
"I shall never really go," Stella explained; "but you can let me get out
and tidy up the surveyor's papers, and then be free for you to-morrow."
Julian opened the door for her. She stood for a moment under the arc of
light beneath the lamp-post looking back at him.
The love between them held them like a cord. Julian had never felt so
little aware of his helplessness; but he wondered, as he gazed into her
eyes, if Stella realized the bitterness of all that they had lost.
She neither stirred nor spoke. She held his eyes without faltering; she
gave him back knowledge for knowledge, love for love; and still there
was no bitterness. At last he knew that she had seen all that was in his
heart; and then for a moment, if but for a moment, Julian forgot what
they had lost; he remembered only what they had found.