Vision House Part 11

"I'm glad."

She sat down with her back to the light and made him take a chair facing the window. He knew too little of women to realise that this was deliberate; but he noticed that she seemed more of a woman, less of a girl to-day. Perhaps, he thought, this was because she wore a black dress. It was filmy and becoming to her fairness; but it made her graver, more dignified. As for Marise, she liked his looks better this afternoon. He had not had time to "dress himself up"; and his morning suit of tweed was not objectionable. She remembered once arguing with Severance that the "Blighter" might be distinguished-looking, even handsome, if decently dressed. She was in a fair way to be proved right to-day, but she was in no mood for self-congratulation. The man's personality didn't matter in the least, she told herself. Yet she was subconsciously burning with curiosity concerning him.

"First of all--before we start on our real talk, I'd like to ask you a question," she began. "Did you send Miss Marks here, to--" ("to spy,"

she had almost said!)--"to try and get work as my secretary?"

"I did not," promptly replied Garth.

"But you knew her--before yesterday."

"I knew her out in Arizona, before the war. She'd written me since she was working at the Belmore. That was how I happened to think of going there before I went over to England in 1914. She's a good stenographer, and a good girl. Since I landed she's done a lot of letters for me, and done them very well."

"She's clever!" admitted Marise. "I asked, because I never quite understood now she happened to come here to see if I wanted a secretary.

Besides, there's something in her manner--the way she looks at me--I hardly know what--but as if she had reasons of her own for being interested----"

"Perhaps she had. And perhaps it's my fault," Garth spoke out. "You see, I'd set my heart on sending you a few presents, something not just ordinary. It popped into my head to do that the day I landed. Reading about you in the papers gave me the idea. But it didn't seem easy, when it came to choosing. Miss Marks began work for me that same afternoon, for I had a heap of back correspondence, and I hate writing. I couldn't keep my mind on the dictation for wondering what I could send you, different from everything and better than anything. That's how I said to myself, 'Why not ask Zelie Marks what there is to buy in New York?' And that is what I did."

"I thought as much!" exclaimed Marise.

"But I didn't tell her about you. I didn't mention who the things were for. I just described the lady. I said, 'She's beautiful, with golden hair and blue eyes, and dark eyelashes and dazzling white skin. She's tall and slender, and I expect she's rich and has everything she wants.

The things I'd like to give her must be so new she hasn't had time to want them yet, but so stunning she won't know how she lived without 'em.' Miss Marks. .h.i.t on the right stunt from the first. Your name has never been spoken between us till yesterday, when we went out of this room together. I suppose you believe me, don't you?"

"Yes, I believe you," Marise grudged. "Miss Marks simply guessed. But I wonder how? Could she have seen your theatre tickets--seats for every performance of 'The Song'?"

"By George, yes! She may--must have done. I ordered them the first day at my hotel. They were in a bunch, tickets for three weeks, fastened with an elastic band, on the desk where she worked. I've got a private sitting-room, like a howling swell."

"So Miss Marks chose all those exquisite things!"

"She told me about 'em, and where to look. Then I went, and picked out in my mind's eye what I wanted. I always had a messenger-boy waiting in a taxi, and sent him in to buy, and pay on the spot, for fear someone else should jump in ahead. That kept up the mystery. I didn't care to have you find out at once that the things came from me. I was afraid it would queer the whole business for you."

"So it would!" Marise might have capped him. But she did not. Instead, she asked, "But surely you meant me to know sooner or later--or where would be the fun?"

"There was plenty of fun in sending the presents and knowing the secret myself," said Garth. "Silly, I guess! But there it was! And--I might as well tell you now--I did kind of hope you'd try to get at the truth, one way or another, just from pure devilment."

"You were right. I did! 'Just from pure devilment.' In the same way that Miss Marks got work with me. She must have been enjoying herself these days!"

"She's a nice girl," Garth defended the absent.

"Oh, I don't mean to discharge her. There's no reason why I should.

She's useful to me. I shan't seem to know anything about this. But I wanted to ask you."

"I'm mighty pleased you did," said the man. "I'd have been--just what your friend calls me, if I'd sent her to get an engagement with you."

Colour stole into Marise's pale cheeks. She had been more interested in the subject of her secretary's connection with Garth than she had expected to be when bringing it up, and for a few minutes had actually forgotten the loathed burden on her heart.

"Let's say no more about Miss Marks!" the girl exclaimed. "My inviting you to call to-day had nothing to do with her. I only thought I'd--clear the air."

"Is it cleared now?" Garth wanted to know. "I hope it is. If not----"

"Oh, it is--quite!"

"Then you're ready to tell me the real thing you have to say?"

"Ye--es.... Only I...." She paused. Her lips had gone so dry that she could hardly speak. Her brain felt dry, too--desiccated. She had not thought it would be like this. Stage-fright--the worst attack of stage-fright she could remember--had not been worse. Yet she cared little or nothing for this man's opinion, she reminded herself, except as it concerned the plan. "I--it's very difficult."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered eagerly.

Marise caught at his words. "That's just it! There's a very big thing you can do to help."

"You know I'll do it," Garth volunteered. "You know that, because there's nothing I wouldn't do. I told you so yesterday."

"If you hadn't, I should not have sent for you to-day."

"I wish you wanted me to kill somebody for you." (She guessed, by the fierce gleam in his eyes, what "body"!) "I'd go to 'the chair' singing."

"Oh!" she laughed feebly. "It's not as bad as that." (But wasn't it?) "You--you said several things here yesterday afternoon. One was, that you----"

"That I love you! Was that what you mean?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's the same to-day. Only more so."

"Even after--I'm afraid I was very selfish and thoughtless. I wasn't as nice to you as I ought to have been, after I'd got you to come, and--and----"

"You weren't nice to me at all," Garth gave her the truth bluntly. "I went away trying to hate you, but I didn't bring it off. Hate, if it starts from love, is a good deal like a boomerang, I guess. It comes back to what it was born from. And the friction stirs up the flame till it's hotter. Now, tell me that thing I can do for you. Because the quicker I hear what it is, the quicker I can set about it."

Marise threw up her head and drew in a long breath. She might have done the same if she had come, with a running jump, to the edge of a precipice.

"Would you--like to marry me?" she gasped.

The man bounded from his chair, and with a stride landed himself beside her. He had knocked over a smaller chair on the way, but this time he was untroubled by his clumsiness. He grabbed, rather than took, the girl's hand. She was afraid he would drop on his knees, and that would have been more than she could bear, because it was what Severance had done. But this stiff-backed soldier kept to his feet. He held her hand high, so high that the blood drained from it to her heart, and the little hand was white in his (save for the pink, polished nails) as a marble model. "You've changed your mind?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely--because his mouth, too, was suddenly dry. "You know I love you more than any other man could. So you think, after all, you might grow to care?"

"It isn't that," she had to tell him. "I haven't--exactly--changed my mind. This hasn't anything to do with 'caring.' Only, if you do love me--as much as you say--you might be willing..." She could not finish.

She felt his fingers suddenly tighten on hers, then loose them, as if he would dash her hand away. He did not do this. But, looking up, the girl saw that the man's face was scarlet. She even thought that a few beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. What had she said to move him like that? "Why, she hadn't even begun!

"What is it?" she inquired. "What is it you think I mean?" Her eyes were large and innocent as a child's.

The blood ebbed slowly from the weathered face. "Whatever I thought, I don't think it now," he said harshly. "No one could, and look at you. Go on."

"But," she argued, "perhaps what you thought was right. I can't be sure, unless you tell me."

"I'd sooner die than tell you."

"Well, then I had better try and tell you what I do mean. After that you can see if your thought was the same. If so, and you feel it is so dreadful, you may go, and turn your back on me without another word."

"No, I wouldn't turn my back on you. Not even for that--now." The words left his lips heavily, like falling stones; and there was a strange look in his face. If it had come there in battle, it might have meant desperate courage which nothing could daunt and would have brought him a bar for his Victoria Cross. But being in a hotel salon, with no enemy present more dangerous than a beautiful young girl, it was only mulish.