"I have got to say," replied Douglas, then his voice broke a little, "that I don't see how you can do it, or put that fat Jew tradesman into my father's place!"

"Your father!" she screamed pa.s.sionately, and a scar on her chin showed white against a suffused complexion; "don't talk to me of your father.

Before we were married, he often came to my uncle's shop, and talked to me about books--I got up Haydn's Dictionary of Dates, bits of Browning, and Lamb's Essays, and Omar Khayyam. I had to study them in my own room at night, so as to make him think I was well educated and shared his tastes; but I did not; no," she cried, with a stamp of her foot, "I _hated_ his tastes! Aristotle and Plato, yes, and Shakespeare--dull to the last degree, but I liked him: he was so handsome, so thoughtful, such a gentleman. And I believed that as he was madly in love I could easily twist him round to my way of thinking--but I was mistaken!" She paused, momentarily out of breath, then resumed: "He soon found me out and was sick of me in three weeks. He disliked dances, theatres, and smart society, and buried me alive in the country. We had nothing in common; he was just a bookworm, with a sarcastic tongue, who left me a beggar! Now I am free, I am going to be a rich woman, marry a man who understands me--and lead a new life."

"I see you are easily satisfied," remarked her son.

"I am; and although Mr. Levison is a Jew tradesman, as you have remarked in your nasty sneering way, he has been generous enough to offer you an opening as his a.s.sistant. He will take you into the shop and pay you two hundred a year."

"No, thank you," replied Douglas stiffly; "I know nothing about old furniture."

"Only old family, I suppose! Well, you might do worse; and when you marry Cossie, as is probable, I will make you a small allowance."

(Shafto had relinquished his income of a hundred and fifty a year, and made it over to his mother legally, immediately he had come of age.)

"I haven't the smallest idea of marrying Cossie, or anyone else," he answered, with white-faced decision.

"Well, she, and indeed they _all_, expect it."

"I've never given them any reason to do so."

"Yes, you have," she contradicted sharply; "you go there, sit by her, and take her into the garden."

"There is nothing in that," he rejoined, too chivalrous to add that it was his cousin who sat by, escorted him, and clung to him like the traditional limpet.

"She is five years older than you, I know, but very sweet-tempered, and not a bad manager--she runs 'Monte Carlo'!"

"Cossie is absolutely nothing to me beyond a cousin; nor have I ever given her reason to think otherwise--or ever shall."

"Oh, you are wonderfully bold and courageous here with _me_; I should like to hear you telling them this at 'Monte Carlo'! I know my sister has set her heart on the match; she has been talking to me about the trousseau, and intends to give you table linen, and a silver tea-pot--she has two."

"Even the silver tea-pot would not bribe me!" declared Douglas with an angry laugh.

"Well, I can a.s.sure you that it's an understood thing," persisted his parent, with spiteful emphasis.

"How can it be understood, when I have never asked the girl to marry me and never shall? Cossie is straight enough and can tell you that herself."

"Oh, she has told me lots of things!" said her aunt mysteriously.

"Well, to turn to another subject, am I to inform Mr. Levison that you refuse his offer of two hundred a year? You may come to us for week-ends if you like; he is doing up the house at Tooting and giving me a fine car."

"No, thank you, I prefer to remain where I am; and now if you've told me everything you wished to say, I think I'll go to bed," and with a brief "Good night" he departed.

But he did not go to bed when he found himself in his bare fourth-floor room, but sat on the side of his lumpy mattress, and smoked cigarettes for a couple of hours. He must squash this Cossie question at all costs; even if it led to a disagreeable interview with his relations and made a complete breach between them. In one sense this breach would mean freedom and relief, and yet he was rather fond of his dowdy old Aunt Emma, and he also liked that slangy slacker Sandy; he could not bear to give anyone pain, or to appear shabby or ungrateful. Of course he ought to have taken a firm stand weeks ago, and repelled advances that had stolen upon him so insidiously. He saw this now; yet how can you refuse to accept a flower from a girl, or be such a brute as to leave her notes and telephones unanswered, or rise and desert her when she nestles down beside you on the sofa? He felt as if he was on the edge of a precipice; and must make a desperate, a life or death struggle; be firm and show no weakness. To be weak would establish him with a wife, house-linen, and the tea-pot, in some dingy little flat near his office, where, plodding monotonous round like a horse in a mill, he would probably end his days. Always too anxious to please and to be liked, he had enjoyed lounging about at "Monte Carlo" and chaffing his cousin, but the price now demanded was exorbitant. He recalled Cossie, stout and smiling, with rather pretty eyes and a ceaseless flow of chatter. She had ugly hands and thick red lips, her hair was coa.r.s.e, but abundant, and she frequently borrowed her sister's rouge. Cossie was immensely good-natured and affectionate, and he would be sorry to hurt her feelings, poor little thing.

Then as to his mother and her marriage to Levison, he hated to think of it. He could not endure his future stepfather; between them there existed a bottomless chasm of dislike and distrust. Levison considered Shafto a conceited young cub, "but a clever cub"; and Shafto looked on Levison as a purse-proud tradesman, ever bragging of his "finds," his sales, and his t.i.tled customers.

Douglas had never felt so abjectly miserable since the time of his father's death; his depression was such that he wished he was dead too; but fate was in a kindly mood and, although he was unconscious of the fact, the clouds were lifting.

CHAPTER VI

AN EMPTY OFFER

The night that Shafto subsequently spent was wakeful and seemed endless; he tossed about on his hard bed and thumped the irresponsive pillow, paced his room from end to end, drank all the water in the carafe--and even encroached on the ewer; he felt as if his vitality had been sapped, that he had no energy with which to face his new position, nothing to which he could look forward, no gleam of hope and, as it turned out, no appet.i.te for breakfast. Seated at table, he proved infectiously depressing and gloomily silent. On the way to the Underground, Sandy Larcher, who happened to be in exuberant spirits, noticed his cousin's grave face and chaffed him about Cossie. (Sandy, a coa.r.s.e-grained creature, knew no reserves, did not profess to be a gentleman, and had never heard of the word "tact.")

"And so you couldn't sleep for thinking of her, eh? Ate no breakfast, only a bit of toast, and half a kipper; quite in a bad way, poor old chap."

"Come now, Sandy, none of that!" angrily protested the victim. "You are a sensible fellow, though you do play the a.s.s; and must know as well as I do myself that you are talking through your hat. I swear on my word of honour, I have never made love to Cossie, I'd as soon think of making love to the parrot next door, and I have not the remotest idea of marrying her. Imagine marrying on a hundred and fifty pounds a year!"

"Oh well, I couldn't face it myself, old man," generously conceded his companion, "but the mater and the girls are dead nuts on the idea; they are awfully fond of you, and say you are so mortal clever, so well-bred and such top-hole style, that you are bound to rise in the world; and Cossie is getting rather long in the tooth. Of course, I know as well as if you told me, how she rushes a chap, and writes silly notes, manicures his nails, and gives him flowers and cigarettes. She overdid it with Freddy Soames and got the knock; and now he is formally engaged, I expect she is mad keen to show that two can play at that game!"

"I'm not for it, and that's certain," declared the other, with an emphasis that was almost violent. "I like Cossie right enough as a cousin, but I'm not a sc.r.a.p in love. Why, we've not one single taste in common--bar tennis and walnut pickles! I hate saying all this to you, old man--it seems monstrously caddish, and really----"

"Oh, don't apologise," interrupted Sandy; "I know Cossie and her little ways--you are not the first by a long way that she's tried it on with."

"Couldn't you drop her some sort of gentle hint? Do, like a good chap and say a word to my aunt? I'd stay away from 'Monte Carlo,' only that I'm drawn to play in this confounded tournament."

"No good! They wouldn't listen to _me_; you must do the business yourself, Douglas, old man. Come on, hurry up, or we'll miss our train!" and Sandy began to run.

Shafto had not long been perched on his office stool and invested in his office coat and paper cuffs, when he received a message that Mr.

Martin--the head of the firm--wished to see him in his private room.

"This is the limit!" he said to himself, as he followed the messenger into a cool, luxurious apartment. "Now I'm going to get a slating--over that French correspondence--and it was Fraser's job.

Well, if that's the case, I'll enlist; I'm sick of this life!"

He found Mr. Martin temporarily idle, seated in front of his large writing-table, scanning the _Financial News_. He raised his eyes as Douglas entered, and said:

"Hullo, that you, Shafto? I have something to say to you. How would you like a little promotion?"

"Very much indeed, sir," he replied after a moment's hesitation due to amazement.

"You've been over four years with us as correspondence clerk?"

"Yes, sir."

"I believe you know Mr. Tremenheere?"

"Yes."

"So do I. He has called here to see me about you. What would you think of going abroad for a change--say, to Burma?"

"Burma--yes, sir, all right," a.s.sented Shafto, with a glowing face.

Something within him had always craved for the East.

"It's like this," continued the other, leaning back and placing his fingers together, tent fashion. "Our house in Rangoon wants a smart, healthy, young fellow, quick at figures, and able to manage bills of lading. You would soon pick up that; it will be chiefly an out-of-door job on the wharves."

"I'd like that."