"Have you ever had a good time?" he demanded abruptly.
"I don't think so," I answered, then sudden loyalty to my parents made
me add: "I--I don't care for the sort of good time some girls have."
"Rubbish!" he interrupted rudely. "Every girl likes a good time, and
every girl will use a fellow to get one--his money, his influence, his
friends, his admiration, his love--anything that adds to her rotten
vanity and flatters her. There is no honour among women, they are all
the same; there isn't a sport among them--not one; and the prettier a
girl is the less of a sport she is."
"I am plain enough to be a sport," I put in.
"Yes," he acquiesced indifferently; then he suddenly swung round on me.
"The real explanation of to-night is going to be damned awkward," he
said curtly. "Do you realise that?"
"Yes."
"Then why explain? It suits me jolly well if you don't."
"I must."
"Why?"
"Oh--because I must."
"A fool reason."
"We can't pretend to be engaged."
"Why not? I think it would be rather a piquant relationship. It
appeals to my debased sense of humour. It would at least have this
Stirling advantage over the average engagement. We needn't be a couple
of confounded hypocrites the whole time with each other. We have no
mutual regard--we could at least reserve our self-respect by being
honest; or perhaps the prospect of explaining to the inflammable Major,
his Colonel, and the Colonel's lady, the circumstances that necessitated
the loving embrace in which they found us to-night appeals to your sense
of humour?"
"Don't be a beast," I flashed out.
"You perceive how charmingly natural we are already. I find it
refreshing--and I intend to continue to refresh myself. Own honestly
that you simply daren't explain. The Colonel is going back to the mess
for bridge. When I arrive the entire mess will be in a position to
congratulate me. Those officers who have charming wives in billets will
carry back the glad tidings of our betrothal."
"You must stop him!" I said. "Oh--please--please--do something! Where
are they?" I searched the hill for the three figures.
"They have considerately left us to our lovers' lingering. Your father
is swollen with pride to-night."
"Why?"
"Because I am an excessively eligible young man--the sort of young man
no one expected you to noose."
"You are a horrible young man--perfectly beastly!"
Yet I did not hate him, he was so frightfully exciting. I can't quite
explain to myself what I felt about him. I could breakfast every
morning in his company for a year and not know what I was eating once.
I am quite sure of that.
"I am not going to let you go," he said suddenly. "I have made up my
mind about that. You are a present from the devil to the worst side of
my nature. There, aren't you _thrilled_? Doesn't your foolish female
heart flip-flap?"
"No," I said stormily; "and I think you are talking like an idiot."
"Delightful creature! Now, listen here, young spitfire, I'm going to
give you a good time----"
"I won't take it!"
"You'll lap it up as a kitten laps up milk--that's all girls are for."
"I am going back to explain to father and mother."
"The thought of 'father' explaining to the C.O. and the mess fills me
with pleasurable anticipation. Your own conduct alone will require all
his ingenuity to explain; the natural and charming and quite unblushing
way in which you accepted the very nice congratulations of Mrs. Walters
and the Colonel requires quite a----"
"I didn't know what I was doing."
"That merely denotes you an idiot."
"Where are we going?" I said, suddenly realising the pleasant wiry
spring of the heather was gone from beneath my feet.
He gripped my arm and laughed. "I am taking you to pay a little call,"
he said.
*II*
"It's Brennon House!" I protested. "You aren't going in here!"
For answer he swung open the gate of the largest house in the
neighbourhood, still keeping tight hold of my arm.
"Why not?" he demanded coolly. "I have a book to return."
"But it must be nearly ten."
"Better late than never."
"Besides--I don't know them--and I have my old mack on."