“_Toby darling_,” cried Miss Voile, “_have you got a cigarette?_”
There was an awful silence.
Miss Woolly, who had a keen sense of humour, set her white teeth and
fought to suppress her mirth. Head up, Mrs. Medallion stared in the
direction from which the voice had come, as one who has detected an
unlawful and offensive smell. Fingers to mouth, Captain Rage was
glancing over his shoulder with the nervous apprehension of the escaped
felon who has heard his pursuers decide to bomb his lair.
Two sweet, pretty hands appeared upon the miniature wall.
The next moment, looking extraordinarily lovely, a flushed and hatless
Cicely pulled herself abreast of the parapet.
Toby stepped forward, put his hands under her arms and lifted the lithe
figure on to the road.
Then he turned to his aunt.
“This is Miss Voile, Aunt Ira—Miss Cicely Voile. Cicely, this is my
aunt, Mrs. Medallion.”
Cicely stepped to the car and put out her hand.
“How d’ye do?” she said with a charming smile.
In stony silence Mrs. Medallion touched the slight fingers.
“Are you engaged to my nephew?”
“Of course I am,” said Cicely. “That’s why we’re alone. We got engaged
last night, so we’re spending to-day in the mountains to recuperate.
D’you think he’ll make me happy?”
The ghost of a smile stole into Mrs. Medallion’s face.
“That depends on his wife,” she said. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“We haven’t told anyone yet,” said Cicely Voile. “And I expect he’s shy.
Men are funny like that, you know. They seem to regard their engagement
as a confession of weakness.”
“It frequently is,” said Mrs. Medallion. She turned to her nephew.
“Toby, you’re a fool. Why shouldn’t you be engaged?”
Captain Rage grinned sheepishly.
“No reason at all,” he said. “Only—only it was all rather sudden, you
know. The—the words wouldn’t come.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” said his aunt. “They still seem rather
reluctant.”
“What did I say?” said Cicely, sliding an arm through Toby’s and
addressing his aunt. “You see? He’s ashamed of himself. He feels his
position. They can’t help it. Where are you staying, Mrs. Medallion?”
“At Pau. Should I like Biarritz?”
“I should come for the day. It’s not very far. I think Pau’s quieter,
you know.”
Mrs. Medallion regarded her.
“I heard you ask,” she said, “for a cigarette.”
“I didn’t know you were here,” said Cicely Voile. “I shouldn’t smoke
before you, because I’m younger than you and so it’s up to me not to
give you offence. I’ve got an aunt called Susan who simply loathes it.
So I never smoke before her.”
Mrs. Medallion turned to her companion.
“A very proper spirit,” she said defiantly.
“Admirable,” said Miss Woolly.
“Miss Voile, this is Miss Woolly, who bears with me.”
Miss Woolly laughed, and Cicely stepped on to the running-board and put
out her hand.
“It can’t be a very hard life,” she said. “You’re looking too well.”
“I suppose you dance, child?” said Mrs. Medallion.
“I do,” said Cicely. “I love it. I know the dances of to-day aren’t all
they might be, but neither is anything else, for the matter of that. I
imagine that convents are as conservative as ever, but outside them——”
“I doubt it,” sighed Mrs. Medallion. “Look at the gaols. I don’t believe
in torture, but I always had a weakness for the discouragement of crime.
Never mind. Come back to Pau now, and I’ll give you some tea. Toby!”
“Yes, Aunt Ira.”
“Take Miss Voile out of sight and give her her cigarette. I think she’s
earned it. Then follow us back to Pau. By the way, d’you feel better
now?”
“Much better, thank you, Aunt Ira,” said Captain Rage.
“What a fool you are,” said his aunt. “I don’t expect to be welcomed,
but misprision of my understanding I cannot endure. But for your pretty
advocate, your ghastly endeavours to dissemble would have cost you
extremely dear.” Her nephew quailed. “Besides, aren’t you proud of her?”
“I should think I was,” said Toby heartily.
“Then act accordingly,” said Mrs. Medallion. “And if ever again you want
to throw dust in my eyes, throw dust—not clods of earth. If you can
manage to blind me, that’s one to you. But I won’t be assaulted.”
“I’m very sorry, Aunt Ira,” said Toby humbly.
“I’m glad to hear it.” She turned to address Miss Voile. “Now don’t go
and heal those stripes as soon as my back is turned. Give him the cold
shoulder for a quarter ’f an hour. And please tell the driver to turn
and take us to Pau. I shall expect you at four at the Hôtel de France.”
“Thank you very much,” said Cicely. “I’m sorry my entrance was so
abrupt, but——”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds,” said Mrs. Medallion. “It
was—enchanting.”
In silence the landaulette was turned and the ladies were driven away.
As the dust swallowed them up, Toby turned to his companion with a
glowing face. Then he caught her hands and pressed them against his
lips.
He looked up with shining eyes.
“Cicely darling,” he cried, “you’re an absolute brick.”
Miss Voile disengaged herself.
“No endearments, please,” she said calmly enough. “This is a serious
business. I’ve compromised myself good and proper, you know. And until
we’re out of the wood I’d rather go slow—dead slow.”
“My dear——”
“Don’t call me your ‘dear,’” cried Cicely, stamping her foot.
“It’s ‘without prejudice,’” said Toby.
“What about our engagement? That’s ‘without prejudice’ too. The trouble
is we omitted to point that out to Mrs. Medallion.”
“Well, I’m very sorry,” said Toby. “But what did you do it for?”
“Why do people go in after drowning men? Because they can’t stand still
and see them drown. I did it out of common humanity. When I looked over
the wall I saw how matters stood—saw in a flash. It wasn’t particularly
bright of me. If you could have seen your face. . . . Well, there was
only one thing to be done. The difficulty was how to do it. And then
with her very first words she smoothed that away.”
“Common humanity or not, it was a most handsome act. And I’m deeply,
deeply grateful. I’ll put things right, of course.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet, but I will—before any damage is done. I’m afraid
it’s spoiled your day, and I’m frightfully sorry. But there you are. And
now let’s go to Eaux Chaudes and find some tea.”
“Eaux Chaudes?” cried Miss Voile. “But we’re booked to your aunt! Don’t
look so amazed. If I start on a thing I like to see it through. And what
on earth’s the use of all I’ve done if we don’t——”
“I refuse,” said Captain Rage. “As you’ve said, you’re deep enough in.
If I hadn’t been so rattled——”
“I never said that,” said Miss Voile. “And now please don’t interfere.
This is my show. You say you’re grateful. Very well, then. Do as I say.
I shan’t get in any deeper by going to tea. I don’t suppose it’s a
party.”
“I wish you wouldn’t,” said Toby. “I—I don’t like it. What with bein’
heckled by that woman, then all of a sudden lugged out of the muck, an’
then all dazzled an’ blinded by the way you handled her, it never
occurred to me that you were paying the score. It sounds ungrateful and
selfish, but there you are. Now that I do see, for Heaven’s sake have a
heart. Don’t make me feel more of a worm.”
With a sudden movement Cicely put out her hands.
“Toby, I’m sorry,” she said. “And please don’t feel like a worm. It is
so—so very inappropriate. I was so glad to help you.” Rage took her
hands in his. “I _am_ so glad I’ve helped you. And I’m glad to go on
helping you—awfully glad. And then we’ll help each other—out of the
wood. . . . I’m afraid it sounded as if I repented what I’d done. I
don’t, Toby, I don’t. And I don’t quite know why I said such rotten
things. Only, when you called me ‘darling’ on—on the top of it all, it
. . . seemed as if you were forgetting . . . that it’s only—only a
game.”
Toby Rage looked into the great brown eyes.
“I—I believe I was,” he faltered.
“Well, please don’t, Toby dear,” said Cicely Voile. “I’ll tell you why.
_I’ve banked on your not forgetting._ I’ve put—not exactly my honour,
but my—my value in your hands. The moment that you forget I become
cheap.” The man started. “You won’t have made me cheap. I shall have
made myself cheap. Cheap in my own eyes—and yours. And I like you just
well enough, Toby, not to want that.”
“You know that I’d never——”
“You wouldn’t at once. But after a little you’d see. Time makes things
so painfully clear. Never mind. Now that I’ve told you, I’m sure that
you won’t let me down.” She whipped her hands away and put them behind
her back. “And now be nice to me, Toby, and give me a cigarette.”
* * * * *
Twenty-four hours had gone by, and the two were sitting again on the
rolling moor.
An urchin breeze darted and hung, Puck-like, in the brave sunshine,
while earth and sky and sea lifted up radiant heads. Time nodded
drowsily over a golden world.
From a little fellowship of chestnuts in a neighbouring dell the pert
insistence of a cuckoo cheered to the echo the excellence of present
mirth. Out of the sweetness of a hawthorn a fragrant eulogy of idleness
stole upon the air. The lazy hum of bees about their business swore by
content.
Miss Voile, however, was not smiling, while Rage was regarding the
jovial landscape with a perfectly poisonous stare.
“How,” said Cicely, “are you getting on?”
Toby started and picked up a writing-pad.
“Give me a chance,” he said. “I’m not a journalist. Besides, a letter
like this takes some composing.”
“It’s got to go off to-night,” said Cicely Voile.
“Well, don’t you rush me,” said Toby. “It’s a very delicate job. Any
fool can say ‘The engagement’s off,’ but that won’t do for Aunt Ira.
What I’ve got to do is to word it in such a way as to stifle the
instinct of cross-examination. Well, bein’ an optimist, I’m not going to
say it’s impossible, but, if I can’t do it, she won’t come over for the
day—she’ll come for a week. I shouldn’t wait for that. I’ve only one
heart. But she’ll metaphorically sack Biarritz.”
“Oh, it’s easy enough,” said Cicely. “Shove it on to me. Say you find
I’m a waster. I don’t care.”
“Well, I do,” said Toby violently.
Cicely shrugged her fair shoulders.