by Sara Seale
"No. I'm afraid Evan's frightfully angry with me." She sighed, and resting her weary head on Mark's shoulder, went suddenly to sleep.
II
Julie stood drumming her fingers on the window-pane of Mark's study. Her back was towards her brother, and he couldn't see, as yet, what effect his story had had upon her.
"So you see, I had no option but to forbid him the house altogether," he finished. "You quite understand, Julie?"
"Quite," she replied, and still did not look round.
"And, Julie—I must say that your attitude over the whole business of Swann's behaviour has made Gina suffer unnecessarily. Why couldn't you have helped her, instead of making it impossible for her to confide in anyone? You could easily have dealt with Swann and kept him in order."
"I told you before, Mark, young girls are often very foolish and imagine a great deal that isn't true. I think that was so in Gina's case."
"You know you don't believe that."
She turned and faced him at last, and he saw that her face was rather pinched and her eyes very bright.
"Anything unpleasant that came Gina's way, she asked for," she said with cold deliberation.
"You said a moment ago that she imagined everything," he returned quietly. "No, Julie, that won't wash with me. It would be more honest if you admitted that for a reason which the poor child can't help, you dislike her so much that you won't lift a finger to help her."
A queer little spasm passed over her face. "Oh, I admit it," she said in a lifeless voice. "Where's the use of pretending? One's whole life is pretence in one form or another."
"Julie, I cannot understand you!" he cried. "If I even knew what it is you want—but you defeat me on every count."
She smiled then. "Poor Mark! We've 'all been a terrible worry to you, haven't we? Well, you'll be rid of me soon, at least. I'm going to marry Victor."
He stared at her silently, then he said in a rather shocked voice, "For God's sake, why?" "Why does anyone marry?"
"But you can't seriously tell me you're in love with the man—knowing what he is."
"What he is doesn't much matter to me," she said. "We understand each other. I was in love with Denis, Mark, so that scarcely comes into the thing. Victor has always attracted me very strongly, if you must have a purely physical reason."
"Marriage isn't purely physical," said Mark roughly. "No. So Denis frequently told me. But in that respect, as in most others, we were very poorly matched," she said very quietly. "Victor is much nearer my own way of thinking, although I loved Denis.—You force these things out of me, Mark. It's rather humiliating."
"My dear, I don't want to force anything from you. I'm only trying to understand your point of view," he said gently. "And I think I do in a dim sort of way. I'm terribly sorry for you, Julie."
"Thanks. Please don't be," she replied bitterly, "And your mind's quite made up?"
"Quite. This affair with Gina has only brought things to a head."
"Nothing I can say or do "
"—can make any difference. You can't stop me, Mark."
"Your 'affairs are your own concern, my dear. You're not a child," he said quietly. "But I imagine you don't propose that Gina should live with you when you're married."
"Gina? My dear Mark—!" She looked at him amazed.
"Exactly. I didn't suppose you would want her," he said a little dryly. "But what do you suggest should become of her? You're responsible for her, and she's under age."
"She will probably marry Evan Hunter."
He shook his head slowly. "She refused him last night."
Her eyes hardened. "Well, she can work, can't she?"
"What do you suppose she's fitted for?"
She shrugged. "Other girls have had to earn their living. She's quick enough."
"And what home will she have? She can't live with me, you know."
"You seem out to make difficulties, Mark. There are hostels—quite cheap places—where the girls are well looked after. There would be no need for you to bother much with her."
"God, Julie, you're hard!" he said with 'a strange expression in his eyes. He had been watching her closely as she gave her answers to his questions. "Well, you needn't worry about Gina's future. I'll arrange something for her."
A little flicker of fear came into her eyes for a moment and was gone.
"You're not thinking of marrying her yourself, are you?" she asked sharply.
"Why should you mind if I am?" he returned coldly.
"But are you serious?"
"Don't you think my affairs concern me just as much as yours concern you?"
She stood, struggling with her feelings in silence, then she burst out a little hysterically:
"You're a great fool, Mark! Both those two are out for what they can get, and always have been. Gina may marry you willingly enough, but she doesn't care that for you!"
She saw the swift pain come into his face, then he said in a voice that was suddenly very tired:
"Let's not discuss it at all, Julie, if you don't mind."
She hesitated a moment, ashamed of having hurt him, then turned without speaking, and left the room.
III
Gina got out of bed at eleven o'clock and languidly began to dress. Sebastian had brought her breakfast up to her room and reported on the state of affairs downstairs.
"Julie's in Mark's study now, and Sweeny's just gone off in the car with the Swann's luggage," he had said. "What a glorious end to the Christmas festivities!"
"Evan, Nancy, Victor, Julie!" she muttered as she splashed water into her basin. "And now to add to my troubles, I'm in love."
Gina recognized the real thing when she saw it, and she had realized, as soon as she had flung open that bedroom door last night and seen him standing there, that she loved Mark. She had thought it was Victor's friend re-turned to release them, and the exquisite shame she had experienced at being found in such a situation by Mark had left her in no doubt of her feelings.
Everything became as clear as crystal. Her reaction to Evan's kiss, her concern for Mark himself, even her small resentments fitted into place and were accounted for.
She cleaned her teeth, one eye on her little tree spreading its glass branches above the mantelpiece. It gave her double pleasure now, and whatever she was doing, she liked to stop and look at it. She wondered simply if Mark could ever fall in love with her, but dismissed such a shining thought as being too much to expect. She was humble in her new-found love. She knew that Mark was very fond of her, but she didn't suppose his affection for her went any deeper than that.
It was at this juncture that Julie knocked sharply 'and came into the room.
Gina smiled at her a little nervously. This couldn't possibly be an agreeable interview, but she hoped it might prove bloodless.
"Good morning. I hope you feel rested," Julie said in a tightly controlled voice.
"Yes, thank you," Gina said politely, and speculated on what was coming.
"I want to say a few things to you, Gina," said Julie, who never hesitated to come to the point. "Mark has of course told me about last night. He naturally took a very different view of the matter from mine, but that's only to be expected. I don't think we need discuss it except that I can't help asking if you think it was very loyal to involve a guest of mine in such unpleasantness?"
"But, Julie—" gasped Gina. "You must know it was nothing to do with me. It was all perfectly beastly, and I never wanted Mark, of 'all people, to know about it."
"Well, as I say, we won't discuss it," said Julie pleasantly. "Of course it makes it rather awkward for everyone, since I'm going to marry Victor quite soon, and as Mark doesn't wish him to come to the house, it's all rather difficult."
"Then you are going to marry him?" exclaimed Gina impulsively. "I was afraid you might. Oh, Julie, why? You're much too good for him."
A curious expression crossed Julie's handsome face. "Don't you think that's a little impertinent?" she said suavely.
&
nbsp; "No, I don't, because it's true. Julie, you can't—not after Father. You were fond of Father."
For the first time Julie seemed deeply moved. She put a hand instinctively to her eyes, shielding them from Gina's gaze, and when she spoke, her whole voice had softened.
"Don't speak about your father, please. There's so much you can't possibly understand."
Gina, too inexperienced to be wise, took this momentary weakening to mean capitulation, and she went eagerly to her stepmother, and put an arm about her neck.
"I do understand. You loved him, didn't you?" she said softly. "For that reason, Julie, don't you see, you can't marry a man like Victor. Father wasn't perfect, but ho was decent. How could you be Victor's wife knowing all the time that he was having his mean little affairs behind your back?"
She felt Julie tremble violently, 'and she was roughly pushed away.
"How dare you, Gina!" her stepmother cried, and there was bitter humiliation in her voice. "When I want your advice, I'll ask for it. Do you think I don't know all there is to know about Victor's mode of life? How dare you try and teach me what I already know and care nothing about!" She paused, shaking with anger, and walked over to the mantelpiece, where she rested her head on her arm. Gina said nothing, and presently Julie lifted her head, 'and continued in a low passionate voice:
"You're a little snake, Gina, and always have been. You worm your way into people's affections and expect always to be protected." "Julie—please!"
"You don't like that, do you? Very few of us do like the truth. But you'll have to begin to stand alone now, my dear. You can't expect Mark to support you when I'm no longer here, and of course it's out of the question for you to live with Victor and me. And remember this, Gina. Mark has a very strong sense of duty. You can re-pay him a little for what he has done for you, by not taking advantage of it. Do you understand me?"
"I don't think so," said Gina in a scared little voice. "I shall try and get something to do, of course, once you're married, Julie. But need I be a burden to Mark? Won't —won't you go on—clothing me—until I can keep myself?"
Julie gave a short laugh, 'and took up the glass tree, turning it round in her hand to catch the light.
"My dear child, did you really imagine I was paying for everything?" she said in a hard artificial voice. "How do you suppose I could do it on my tiny allowance? You must be very credulous where money is concerned."
"Oh, Julie, do be careful! It's frightfully brittle
What do you mean, please?"
"Why, that you've been entirely kept by Mark, that's all."
"Mark!"
"Every stitch you wear has been paid for by him. He's been ridiculously generous, considering he's not a rich man." "Then I owe everything to him?"
"Every single thing. The food you eat, the clothes you wear, the money you spend—every mortal thing."
Julie watched Gina with a certain enjoyment, and saw her go gradually whiter. There was a queer defeated look in her green eyes, and her hands hung limply at her sides. "That's what I meant when I said that Mark had a very strong sense of duty," Julie finished. "It might very well lead him into being foolishly quixotic, and if you've any gratitude in you at all, you won't take advantage of him. Now do you understand me?"
Gina shut her eyes, feeling a little sick, and made no answer. This annoyed Julie, who could not altogether fathom her attitude. A wave of anger swept over her again, and her fingers tightened convulsively. There was a tiny musical ping! as one of the delicate branches of Gina's tree snapped off.
Gina sprang forward. "What have you done?" she cried so fiercely that Julie was startled. She backed away, and the tree slipped from her hands on to the hearth where it smashed in a thousand pieces.
There was a pregnant little silence, then Gina fell on her knees and began gathering up the shining fragments. "My tree!" she said. "You've broken my tree!" and began to cry desolately.
IV
"This house is hell!" remarked Sebastian, coming downstairs later in the morning, and meeting Mark in the hall.
"Here's Julie trying to pretend to the Careys nothing's happened at all, 'and being about as successful as a mule at the Derby; you looking as though you've got one foot in the grave, and Gina howling her eyes out upstairs."
"What's the matter with her? Not Julie again, I hope," said Mark quickly.
Sebastian shrugged 'a shoulder. "She said Julie broke that tree you gave her for Christmas, She's weeping over the fragments."
Mark frowned. "This is damnable! We shall have no peace now till Julie goes, I suppose."
"Goes? Where to?"
"She's marrying Swarm, or says she is," Mark said shortly.
Sebastian whistled, and said shrewdly, "What's going to happen to us all when that merry event occurs?"
Mark glanced at him. "That depends on yourselves," he replied.
"Well, Oxford for me, I suppose—if I've got in—but what about Ginny? She can't live here with you very well."
"No. Well, that's got to be discussed, naturally."
Gina came down to lunch, looking tear-stained and miserable, and in the middle of the afternoon Mark motored the Careys to the station.
"I'm sorry there's been such 'a damp atmosphere about your departure, Phil," he said to Philippa, who was sitting beside him. "The house is in rather a turmoil just at the present."
"Don't bother to explain, my dear," said Philippa tranquilly. "I've eyes in my head. I'm sorry for little Gina, though."
"She'll be all right when things have settled down again, I hope."
"She'll be all right because she's so eminently sensible underneath. But remember, Mark, if we can ever be of any use, Elliot and I will always love to have the child to stay indefinitely."
"Thank you, my dear, I'll remember that," he said gratefully, reflecting that there was very little which escaped Philippa's shrewd attention.
"Good-bye, and good luck, Mark!" she said just as the train started. "Go to it!" She made a small grimace at him out of the carriage window, and left him standing on the platform with a grin of comprehension. Dear old Phil! But it wasn't as easy as all that.
It was not until the next day that he had an opportunity of speaking to Gina alone. She seemed to be keeping out of his way, and in the end he had to send Sebastian to fetch her.
"You sent for me?" she said, so exactly like a nervous schoolgirl that he had to laugh.
"Come along and sit down and let's be warm and comfortable," he said, pulling up a chair to the fire for her.
She sat down, and he leant against the mantelpiece and filled a pipe. "Getting over your nasty adventure?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, thanks."
"That's splendid. Now, I want to talk to you about one or two things that I think we ought to discuss."
She wished he wouldn't adopt this bright bedside manner towards her. It made it so difficult to know what he was really after.
"Julie, as she's no doubt told you, is going to get married again, which means that this household will have to be somewhat reorganized."
While he was speaking, she glanced at him surreptitiously. He was just the same of course, and yet, now, everything about him seemed changed. His eyes were kinder, his mouth more tender than she had remembered before. He looked tired and a little strained, and that worried her.
"—so you see, my dear, we must consider what's to be done with you and Sebastian," he finished.
"I shall find some work," she said immediately.
He smiled. "Where?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you would help me. You must know people who would give me a start."
"It isn't easy when you have no training."
"I know. But I don't mind what I do."
"You'd do anything?"
"Of course."
"Would you marry me?"
She stared at him dumbly. "What?" she said then, rather faintly.
He smiled again. "Don't look so scared. I was only asking you if you would include marriage in
doing anything."
"With you?"
"With me. Why not? Would you hate it?"
This was unbearable! Gina for one bad moment felt she was going to burst into tears, and he watched her with dismay. But she pulled herself together, and since her dazed emotions had to have an outlet some way, she began to laugh helplessly.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped. "But it does seem such a f-funny sort of proposal."
He sat down beside her, and allowed his pipe to go out while he talked to her. "Think it out sensibly, Gina. You don't dislike living here, do you?" She shook her head. "And you are fonder of me than you were?" That hurt a little. He was so unassuming of her 'affection. She made no answer, and he went on with forced cheerfulness:
"You could make a home for Sebastian that way, and the three of us could manage very comfortably." No word for himself, no mention of his side of the bargain.
"And what do you get out of it?" she couldn't help asking.
"I?" he looked startled, then a little embarrassed. "Well, I should like to feel there was no danger of you running off and leaving me—either for the sake of a job or a young man," he said. "Besides, it would put an end to all this money business which seems to worry you so much."
The temptation was very great. She argued that it might be less trouble in the long run for Mark, if she married him, for as things turned out, he would have to keep her entirely, while she was learning her job, and that would mean two establishments. Yet marriage was a tremendous thing to accept from someone purely as a quixotic gesture.
"Well—what do you say?"
"Would it be cheaper?" she asked carefully.
"Cheaper?"
"I mean would it be cheaper for you than starting me in a job and paying my expenses until I was earning?"
"My dear, I'm not asking you to marry me on the grounds of economy!" he said quickly. "But if you hate the idea, I'm sure Julie would help you—"
"You needn't bother to keep that up," she broke in. "Julie told me I owe everything to you. I—I'm terribly grateful."
