Tabs was the first to collect himself. He closed the front door behind him. "Good morning, General. You couldn't have been more prompt if we had telegraphed you that we were coming." When Braithwaite still stared, Tabs continued, "Allow me to introduce you to Lady Dawn and may I ask how long I have had you as my guest?"

Braithwaite drew a puff at his cigarette. His manner was as haughty as if he had been the owner of the house. "Since last night," he said. "I have to thank your Lordship for a bed. Mrs. Braithwaite----" A gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt shot into his eyes. "Mrs. Braithwaite had a sentiment for spending her first night beneath your roof. Seeing that you were away and that I was so newly wedded"--he made an eloquent gesture--"I could scarcely deny her." Turning on his heel, he commenced to reascend.

Across his shoulder he flung back, "Of course I apologize. We'll not trespa.s.s further. In a few minutes I'll have her dressed. In half an hour, at the outside, I'll remove her."

"Don't be a fool." Tabs spoke sharply. "You make me wonder which of us is mad."

Braithwaite regarded him for a moment with an enigmatic smile. "I'm not.

Yesterday I did the wisest thing of my life." With that he vanished.

Lady Dawn turned to Tabs gently. "If that's the way he feels, then he has. Terry's to be congratulated."

"But why on earth should she have wanted to spend her marriage-night in my house?" Tabs questioned. "My house of all inappropriate places!

That's what I can't understand. And what could Ann have been doing to consent? You remember I told you there was a time when he was practically engaged to Ann."

They mounted the stairs till they came to the first landing. Entering the library, with its bright red lacquer, they sat down to await events.

But Tabs did not sit long; he was too restless. Having flung wide the French windows which opened out on to the veranda, he kept going to the doorway to listen.

He glanced at his wrist-watch. "Barely six o'clock! Upon my word, I don't relish the idea of her being disturbed. Braithwaite's such a hot-head. For all I care, they can stop here as long as they like. I'll take a holiday so as not to embarra.s.s them." He faced Lady Dawn with troubled frankness. "The question is: _are_ they married? I've been trying to figure things out. They simply can't be unless he met her with a special license in Gloucester. And even then, I can't see how---- But if they're not married, surely he would never have had the audacity to bring her to my house. It would be too preposterous--to the house of a man to whom she was engaged, where she would be waited on by a woman with whom he was once in love."

At that moment Ann entered, pretty and sleepy-eyed, with Braithwaite following close behind. Tabs commenced speaking at once, in order that he might put them at their ease as regards his intentions.

"We're not here to blame any one. You, General, evidently think that I'm hostile. I'm not. As far as you're concerned, Ann, whatever you've done is right. Of course I'm a little taken aback to find that my house was chosen for the honeymoon. But if you'd like to have the use of it for a week or so and Ann doesn't object, I'll clear out and leave you to yourselves. You'll make me really happy if you'll accept the offer; it'll be a proof of friendliness. You're wondering why we surprised you so early. It wasn't to prevent you from marrying. It was because Lady Dawn was responsible for Terry and we felt that a runaway match, with the marriage announced after the event, might damage not only her but you, General, as well. I read yesterday in the papers of what you're doing and I want to say just this to you. You're the better man. You deserved to win. Last time we met you refused to shake my hand. I hope you'll take it now. You can afford to be magnanimous to a rival, now that you're Terry's husband."

Tabs stood with his hand held out. Braithwaite made no motion to accept it; and yet his expression was generous. "I can't shake your hand as Terry's husband, Lord Taborley. I'm not married to her."

Lady Dawn sprang to her feet and came between the two tall men. "Not married to her! But you intend to marry her? You told us you were married."

Braithwaite was still smiling. "I am." To their amazement he slipped his arm about Ann and kissed her sleepy, tender mouth. "Terry is safe with your Ladyship's sister. We took her there when she arrived last night."

He turned to Tabs. "You said that I was the better man. I'm not. It was your sense of duty that always urged me. I have to thank your Lordship for the greatest happiness that can befall any man. You made me see it as my greatest happiness, when I was in danger of becoming a cad. There was one thing you said to me that sank into my mind. 'You'll never succeed, however great your courage, unless you start with your honor solvent.' You saved my honor. I didn't like your methods. But I thank you with all my heart now. If it hadn't been for you, neither Ann nor I would have come safely to our journey's end. I think we'd both like to shake your hand."

XI

It was two hours later. They were finishing their breakfast in the open, on the balcony of the Hyde Park Hotel. From where they sat they could watch a lawn-mower traveling slowly back and forth, patterning the sward with alternate stripes of different colored greenness. They could smell the acrid juices of newly cut gra.s.s. Beyond the islands of flowers and vivid candelabra of trees, they could see the wild fowl of the Serpentine rise and drift like phantoms across the sultry stretch of blueness. Wheels of a water-cart grumbled sleepily against the gravel.

Moving through the sunlit shadows of the Row, riders were returning from their early morning gallop.

They were still together--just the two of them. They were romantically self-conscious of the domestic appearance which their twoness caused.

Only married couples or very ardent lovers rise, while the lazy world is sleeping, to keep each other company at breakfast. They had not had the heart to disturb the General and Ann in their temporary possession of the little nest-like house.

Lady Dawn was speaking. "So you've done it again."

"What have I done?"

"What you did for Maisie. How did you put it last night? You've led them to their kingdom."

He smiled. "I seem to have a faculty for doing that. I do for others what I can't do for myself."

Still not looking at him, she said: "Perhaps you don't find your own kingdom because you're too much in love with the search. You don't want to bring your journey to an end. There are people like that."

"I'm not one of them.--I wish you'd look at me, Lady Dawn. Do you know what I covet most in all the world? Rest and certainty. I don't mean a lazy kind of rest, but the rest of a mind at peace with itself--the certainty we all had while the war was on, when we were adventuring for the advantage of other people. I've done nothing lately that wasn't for myself. I want some one to live for, so that I can forget myself. I've been thinking----"

The waiter presented the bill. Tabs scarcely knew whether to curse or bless. He had been approaching the danger-mark; nevertheless, he wasn't at all sure that he was grateful for the interruption. His heart cried out to him to risk humiliation by one last act of daring. Experience warned him that it is the sins of precaution--the follies left uncommitted--that are most regretted by men of seventy.

She rose as he was gathering up his change. The purpose that had brought them to London was ended. There was no further reason for their being together. If they were to prolong their companionship, a new excuse must be invented. He saw by the tentative manner in which she waited, that she also had realized that. He became perturbed lest she might dismiss him. Speaking hurriedly to forestall her, he said, "I suppose we had better make sure of Terry by hunting her up at Mulberry Tree Court."

She barely nodded. Perhaps she thought, now that Braithwaite had been eliminated as a rival, that this making sure of Terry betokened a rekindling of the old infatuation. A constraint grew up between them. It was not until they were standing on the top of the hotel steps, waiting for her car, that he ventured to correct the wrong impression. "Funny about Terry! If it hadn't been for her, we might never have been friends. The first day of my home-coming she drew my attention to you; it was too late--you had pa.s.sed. You were driving with the Queen in the Park. I remember what Terry said. She called you Di and spoke of you as the most beautiful woman in England."

She gave no sign that she had heard. As though she were unescorted, she pa.s.sed before him down the steps. But the moment they were seated in the car, she turned to him. She looked her full age. Her face was pale with more than weariness. He noticed the threads of gray in her hair. Ever since he had seen Ann in her flushed shy exaltation, he had felt more keenly the pathos of Lady Dawn. It was a pathos that found an echo in his heart--the pathos of approaching separation. What purpose did it serve her to be beautiful, if she had no man of her own to admire her?

"You were on the verge of telling me something, when the waiter interrupted," she prompted. "It began like a confession. You'd been speaking about living for other people and your need of rest. Then, you said you'd been thinking----"

"It was about how one could make a man's job out of living," he answered quickly. "It's all wrong that one should feel decent only when he's attempting to get slaughtered. It takes neither brains nor perseverance to be dead. Any one can----"

"But it was about finding rest that you were speaking."

"Yes, but I've burdened you with too many of my troubles." He hesitated, wondering whether he dare tell her what had happened to his heart. "I've done nothing for you. I've only borrowed from your strength. You're the most restful woman, the most calm----" Then he dodged. "But since you ask me of what I was thinking, it was of how I might escape to the old hardships. I thought I'd call at the Pa.s.sport Office and get in touch with the Royal Geographical Society, and commence arrangements to explore----"

"Then I sha'n't be seeing you again?" She asked it in a tone of dreariness, bordering on terror. Her hands trembled in her lap. She stared straight before her.

"But you will." He forced a cheerfulness into his voice which he was far from feeling. "These things take time. It may be weeks----"

"But you'll go away. I know it."

"I suppose I shall. Sooner or later I shall return. In the meanwhile we can write."

She paid no attention to his consolation. Her face was gray as granite.

Her hands kept folding and unfolding. There was something symbolic in their emptiness. "You won't come back. It's the end. You weren't sent, after all."

How or why he said it, he never could tell. The words were utterly unpremeditated. He spoke them, ordinarily and unemotionally, as though throwing out a casual suggestion. "We could get married, if that would make you happier."

"It's what I'd like."

His heart missed a beat. He dared not credit his senses. He glanced down at her, prepared to find that she was mocking. The most beautiful woman in England! There was no mistake; she had actually asked him.

"It's what I should like, too." He spoke conventionally. Nothing in his tone betrayed his emotion. "It's what I've been dreaming from the moment that we met---- When would be convenient?"

"As soon as possible."

"Would a week from to-day suit?"

She nodded, "Or sooner."

Beneath the robe his hand sought hers. He did not trust himself to look at her. She was his, all of her and forever. It was marvelous. The secret clasp of her hand was sufficient for the present. He was still doubtful of his fortune and unnerved by his temerity. He felt aloof and disembodied--an uninvolved spectator. And this was love, the journey's end--this smiling stillness, which was so different from anything he had imagined!

They entered Mulberry Tree Court and drew up before the house with the marigold-tinted curtains. It was while they were waiting for the door to be opened that he broke the silence. Smiling down at her with a guilty, glad expression he asked, "We're engaged now, I suppose?"

She returned his smile less certainly. "I'm ashamed. But you won't go----"