Page:The Smart Set (Volume 51, Number 4).djvu/15

Rh It was then half-past two.

She flitted hastily upstairs, un- dressed, decided after a moment’s con- sideration to leave her hair untouched, arrayed herself in her best nighty and a pretty silk dressing-gown which had once adorned Lady Marjory’s own fair form, enveloped her little white feet in ludicrously tiny slippers, and having satisfied herself that all the house was still, stole down to the study and com- posed herself with patience to what was destined to prove a somewhat weari- some vigil.

The dressing-gown was of the filmi- est texture and the night was an ex- tremely chilly one; but, as she had an- ticipated, there was a good fire in the study. She ensconced herself in a com- fortable chair and listened at first at- tentively, then with growing drowsi- ness, to the noisy passage of some hun- dreds of motors. They would come in a taxi—if they came.

If they came. An hour passed; an hour and a half; two hours; it seemed to her an eternity.

She fell asleep, awoke with a little shock of fright and stirred the dying ashes cautiously. A quarter to five! Well—she would wait until five. She shivered a little, but was afraid to risk the inevitably noisy replenishment of the fire.

Just before five a taxi stopped out- side the house. The study opened into the hall, but its windows did not look into the street. She sprang to her feet, and as the hall door opened, switched on the light.

Two rather noisy voices dropped abruptly to a lower pitch.

“Hello!” said one. *‘The governor’s been out somewhere. Naughty old hoy 1”

“As for extinction,” said another voice, not very clearly, “extinction doesn’t trouble me. It doesn’t trouble me at all, ole fellow. Extinction—"

“Oh, shut up, you silly ass!” broke in the first voice pleasantly. ‘‘Here Let’s go and have a drink with the old governor.”

“All right,” said the second voice, without rancour. “But I should like you to have that quite clear. Quite clear. Extinction doesn’t trouble me. Death—existence after death—that scares me, I admit. Yes, I admit that quite frankly, dear boy. But as for utter extinction, I—"

Their footsteps were just outside the study door.

Miss Barker moved across to the table on which Lady Marjory’s letters lay, gathered them up, put one hand modestly to the lace at her throat, and turned a genuinely blushing face toward the two men who had halted in the doorway and were now staring at her in an astonishment equally unaf- fected.

They were both fine, broad-shoul- dered, slim-flanked young animals, good-looking, assured and debonair. Mr. Arbuthnot was in uniform; Bulgie (no one knew why he was called Bulgie —nor is the point of any importance) in mufti. Bulgie was in the process of recovering slowly from the effects of ‘a German machine gun; Mr. Arbuthnot had not yet been “out.” He was the possessor of a very determined chin and a pair of pale grey eyes with black irises which looked at every object, however near, as if it was two miles distant. He was the first to speak.

“I’'m afraid we're rather intruding, aren’t we, old chap?” he said with some solemnity.

“Not at all,” said Miss Barker hasti- ly, moving toward the door. “I—Lady Marjory asked e to bring her up something—these letters—and I quite forgot—I woke up and suddenly re- membered—I—please forgive me—I had no idea—"

Her confusion was delicious. A let- ter slipped from her hand. Both young men made a hasty dive, but both were late.

“Please don’t- run away in such an awful hurry!” said Bulgie, laying a de- taining hand on the dressing-gown, as its wearer thade another little move- ment toward the door.

“Oh—but—I must. I really must.