While this drama was taking place in the little house in Sloane Street,
Madame Frabelle, who lived for romance, and was always imagining it
where it didn't exist, was, of course, sublimely unconscious of its
presence. She had grown tired of her fancy about Edith and Mr Mitchell,
or she made herself believe that her influence had stopped it. But she
was beginning to think, much as she enjoyed her visit and delighted in
her surroundings, that it was almost time for her at least to _suggest_
going away.
She had made Edith's friends her own. She was devoted to Edith, fonder
of the children than anyone except their grandmother, and strangely,
considering she was a visitor who gave trouble, she was adored by the
servants and by everyone in the house, with the single exception
of Archie.
She was carrying on a kind of half-religious flirtation with the Rev.
Byrne Fraser, who was gradually succeeding in making her very high
church. Sometimes she rose early and left the house mysteriously. She
went to Mass. There was a dreamy expression in her eyes when she came
back. A slight perfume of incense, instead of the lavender water that
she formerly affected, was now observable about her.
She went to see the 'London Group' and the 'New English' with young
Coniston, who explained to her all he had learnt from Aylmer, a little
wrong; while she assured him that she knew nothing about pictures, but
she knew what she liked.
She bought book-bindings from Miss Coniston, and showed her how to cook
macaroni and how to make cheap but unpalatable soup for her brother. And
she went to all the war concerts and bazaars got up by Valdez, to
meetings for the Serbians arranged by Mrs Mitchell and to Lady Conroy's
Knitting Society for the Refugees. She was a very busy woman. But it was
not these employments that were filling her mind as she sat in her own
room, looking seriously at herself in the glass. Something made her a
little preoccupied.
She was beginning to fear that Bruce was getting too fond of her.
The moment the idea occurred to her, it occurred to Bruce also. She had
a hypnotic effect on him; as soon as she thought of anything he thought
of it too. Something in her slight change of manner, her cautious way of
answering, and of rustling self-consciously out of the room when they
were left alone together, had this effect. Bruce was enchanted. Madame
Frabelle thought he was getting too fond of her! Then, he must be!
Perhaps he was. He certainly didn't like the idea at all of her going
away and changed the subject directly she mentioned it. He had always
thought her a very wonderful person. He was immensely impressed by her
universal knowledge and agreeable manners and general charm. Still,
Madame Frabelle was fifteen years older than Bruce, and Bruce himself
was no chicken. Although he was under forty, his ideal of himself was
that he liked only very young girls. This was not true. But as he
thought it was, it became very much the same thing. As a matter of fact,
only rather foolish girls were flattered at attentions from Bruce.
Married women preferred spirited bachelors, and attractive girls
preferred attractive boys. In fact, Bruce was not wanted socially, and
he felt a little bit out of it among the men through not being among the
fighters. The fact that he told everyone that he was not in khaki
because he was in consumption didn't seem to make him more interesting
to the general public. His neurotic heart bored his friends at the club.
In fact there was not a woman, even his mother, except Madame Frabelle,
who cared to listen to his symptoms. That she did so, and with sympathy,
was one of her attractions.
But as long as she had listened to them in a sisterly, friendly way, he
regarded her only as a friend--a friend of whom he was very proud, and
whom he respected immensely. As has been said, she impressed him so much
that he did not know she bored him. When she began rustling out of the
room when they were left alone, and looking away, avoiding his eye when
he stared at her absently, things were different, and he began to feel
rather flattered. Of course it would be an infernal shame, and not the
act of a gentleman, to take advantage of one's position as a host by
making love to a fascinating guest. But there was so much sympathy
between them! It is only fair to say that the idea would never have
occurred to Bruce unless it had first occurred to Madame Frabelle. If a
distinguished-looking woman in violet velvet leaves the room five
minutes after she's left alone with one--even though she has grey
hair--it naturally shows that she thinks one is dangerous. The result of
it all was that when Bruce heard Edith was taking Aylmer for a drive, he
apologised very much indeed for not going with her. He said, frankly,
much as he liked Aylmer, wounded heroes were rather a bore. He hoped
Aylmer would forgive him. And Madame Frabelle had promised to take him
to the Oratory. She disapproved of his fancy of becoming a Catholic; she
was not one herself, though she was extremely high, and growing daily
higher, but the music at the Oratory on that particular day was very
wonderful, and they agreed to go there. And afterwards--well, afterwards
they might stroll home, or--go and have tea in Bond Street.
* * * * *
It was the last day of Archie's holidays, and though it was rather cold
his mother insisted on taking him with her.
Aylmer tried to hide the shade that came over his face when he saw the
boy, but remembering that he had undertaken to be a father to him, he
cheered up as soon as Archie was settled.
It was a lovely autumn day, one of those warm Indian-summer days that
resemble early spring. There is the same suggestion of warmer sunshine
yet to come; the air has a scent as of growing things, the kind of
muffled hopes and suppressed excitement of April is in the deceptive
air. This sort of day is dangerous to charming people not in their very
first youth.
* * * * *
In high spirits and beyond the speed limit they started for Richmond.