Honey

by Mary Burchell

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "I DON'T understand." Deborah looked helplessly from her brother to Honey and back again. "The engagement, over? But it can't be! It's only just begun. Aren't you well, Honey dear? Has something... something happened?" She stammered slightly in her incredulous dismay. For a moment Honey was overwhelmed by a sort ot desperate remorse. It was wrong to shatter anyone's serenity with such dreadful finality, and she almost yielded to the temptation to take back what she had saidto reassure poor Deborah with almost any argument or pretence that would hide the tatters of this torn romance. But she had had enough of pretence. She had been too shocked and frightened by that moment Of revelation when pretence had seemed more precious than any reality. She had known that her whole scale of values had slipped out of gear. "I'm sorry, Deborah," she said again, as though there were some necessity for her to apologize to someone for her broken engagement. "I know it must be a shock. But Dr. Anston and IJohn and Iare not going on with the engagement." "Dr. Anston," repeated Deborah dazedly, as though in Honey's extraordinary way of referring to her fiance she might find the key to this mystery. As, indeed, she might. "But you were so happy, such a 131 . success. Everyone was enchanted with you. Honey, and so happy for John and . . . and me. I can'tI sim ply can'tgo out there now and tell them all it's aT. mistake." ; "There's no necessity to do-that, Deborah." Her brother spoke at last, but in an odd, chilled way that ' sounded expressionless. "There's no need to tell anyone tonight. That would be unnecessarily sensational. We can arrange things quietly in a few days' time." "Then you mean it's true?" "I'm afraid so." Deborah, who had apparently clung to some remnant of the idea that it might be a mistake, seemed to sag, almost physically, at this confirmation by her brother. "I can't understand it." She fiddled aimlessly with the clasp of her evening bag and looked almost as though she might begin to cry. "I can't understand it at all." ' "Don't try to," her brother told her curtly but not unkindly. "ButTm much older than both of you. You mustn't think I'm interfering if I say that there's no quarrel that can't be made up if two people love each other," Deborah said earnestly. "I believe you." Her brother wearily passed his hand over his face and looked suddenly as though he had had very much more than enough of this scene. "But the operative clause there isif they love each other. Honey and I don't love each other. ..." "We only pretended to do so. I'm sorry. The idea was mine. And a damned bad idea it was, too." "Do you mind," said Honey in a strangled voice, "if I go now? I don't think I can bear to stay and hear it 132 all^discussed again^ Make some excuse for me, please any excuse if people' mreiss me. Say I'm' illfaint anything; But don't ask me to go back among them all and pretend any more." . And, without even waiting for Deborah or John Anston either to agree or protest, she turned and almost ran from the room. By good luck rather than calculation, she found herself near a staircase. Not the big main stairway, where she had lingered watching Dr. Anston and Millicentcould it be only yesterdaybut a narrower staircase at the back of the hotel. Possessed by an illogical fear that, even now, someone might pursue her and insist on her returning to the scene of her triumph and her despair. Honey raced up to the second floor. And after some frantic wandering around what seemed like miles of corridor, she stumbled at last on her own room. She had not her key with her, but a friendly chambermaid opened the door for her, making some good-humored comment to - which Honey somehow managed to reply coherently. And then the door was closed again,, shutting out the maid and all the world. Honey was alone at last. Except for her thoughts. She leaned against the door for a minute or two, with her eyes closed, aware only of the rdief of not having to face people or to pretend any more. But slowly the weight of her own wretchedness made it seem an effort even to stand. Rather stiffly she moved away from the door and mechanically began to strip off her beautiful dress, her necklace, she sobbed a little at that point though she hardly knew it, and then her other clothes. Then wrapping herself in her dressing gown, she flung -herself across the bed, face downward, as though she would blot out even the sight of the impersonal hotel bedroom. It was over. The hateful, beloved, fascinating, frightening engagement with Dr. Arinston was over. Ruthlessly she had cut all the bonds. And, if the ends hung uneven and unconnected, at least there was nothing to hold her any longer. Nothing exceptshe raised her head and stared at her handnothing except her ring. The moment had come to take that off now. Return it to him with a polite little note. It had never represented anything real. Now it did not even represent their make-believe. For that too was over. She fingered the ring nervously, as though to draw it from her hand. But, instead of doing that, she suddenly bowed her bright head on her clenched fingers and wept unrestrainedly. For what she could not quite have said. Only that it was all over. Some time later her mother came and knocked on the door. It was Honey's impulse to say, "Go away." But she had precipitated this crisis and must deal with it. So, wiping the tears from her cheeks, she sat up and called, "Come in." Her mother entered. Her pretty, eager, bewildered face a study. Honey's heart smote her. For it was not only her own plans and hopes that lay in ruins. "Honey. .. ." Her mother came over and sat on the bed beside her, without attempting to touch her, "What's happened, darling?" She was glad her mother did not embrace her emotionally or otherwise increase the tension of the i34 scene. In some curious way, it was comforting to be spoken to .so quietly and yet lovingly, as though one were a lost child. Which perhaps she was. "The engagement is over," Honey said, and she was surprised at the quiet finality other own Voice. Her mother bit her lip, but did not break out into the protests that Honey had steeled herself to face. All she said was "Aren't you going to tell me why?" "If you like." Honey pushed back her heavy, fair hair wearily. "It was all a mistake, anyway. The engagement, I mean. It was never real." Mrs. Milward swallowed. In her experience people did not become engaged by mistake, and she found this very difficult to accept. "Couldn't you tell me a little more than that, dear?" she pleaded, "ft all seemed quite emphatically real to me, and I think to everyone else too." Honey smiled very faintly. "That was because we acted so well," she said with a sigh. And then she thought suddenly how wonderful it would be to tell someone the whole story. Someone who wouldn't criticize or blame one, or point out the self-evident fact that she had been crazy ever to embark on such a project. Someone whose dear partiality would gloss over all one's foolishness and mistakes. , '^Oh, Mother!" Honey cried, in .the tone of one who has broken her doll and cut her knee only to realize that she is not a big girl after all. And, flinging her arms around her mother, she leaned her head against her and began to pour out the whole story. Right from the beginning, at the group meeting of the Women's Institute, when everyone had just assumed that she and Dr. Anston were more or less engaged. '35 "I know I was silly ever to take it on," she admitted humbly, "and sometimes I wanted to turn back. But there never seemed to be a chance, Mother." "It was all Miss Emms's fault," declared Mrs. Milward indignantly and, one feels bound to say, unjustly. "Oh, Mother!" Even in her distress. Honey was intrigued though not convinced by"'this novel point of view. "How could it be, poor thing?" "It was she who started the gossip," Mrs. Milward said firmly. "Why, she stopped your father and told him you were engaged, even before you knew it yourself. Don't you remember?" "We-ell, she scooped the news, if you like," Honey 'conceded, with a pale smile. "But I don't think we can blame anyone but our two selves for-what really happened." "I must say I am astonished at John." Mrs. Milward spoke reluctantly, for she hated blaming anyone of whom she was so unfeignedly fond. But, as the only alternative culprit to Honey herself, he had to be sacrificed. "Oh, I don't know." Honey sprang to the erring Dr. Anston's defence with unnecessary eagerness. "We were both responsible for this stupid scheme. ..." "But it was to please him originally. And it was carried much too far. That handsome ring!" Mrs. Milward glanced at Honey's hand. "That lovely necklace this afternoon." She looked around the room. "I've taken off the necklace," Honey said abruptly. "And the ring, dear? You should take that off too, you know, now your engagement is broken."
"I know," Honey said, but she curled her fingers tightly into the palm of her hand, as though she 136 thought something or someone might remove the ring by force. "I mean to ... soon." "And then what?" Mrs. Milward sighed, and Honey was completely dumb, for suddenly those three words opened a vista of such a pointless, loveless, empty future that a great lump rose in her throat and nearly choked her. For a minute or two both of them were silent. Then ; Mrs. Milward said, as though reluctantly making the best of a very heavy burden. "Well, it's something, I suppose, that there are no deep feelings involved on either side. All we have to deal with is social embarrassment and disappointment." "Yes," murmured Honey huskily. "Deborah's immediate departure to the States is almost providential, in the circumstances. It saves her from having to make any explanations to her friends and relations for a little while. And it also gives us a very good reason for returning home tomorrow." "Tomorrow!" For some inexplicable reason, Honey looked aghast at this. "Well, of course, my dear. We can hardly stay on here as the guests of John's sister if you're not going to marry him, after all." "No, I suppose not." "In any case" Mrs. Milward looked puzzledly at her daughter "I would have thought it would mean less embarrassment for you if we returned home." "Yes, of course," Honey said and immediately began to wonder feverishly what likelihood there was other seeingjohn again before their departure. "Well, you'd better get to bed now, darling." Her mother drew a slight, involuntary sigh. "It's late." *S7 "Yes," Honey agreed, though she shrank from being left alone to struggle with her own unhappy thoughts once more. "Thank you. Mother, for being so understanding." "My dear child! Who would understand it" your own mother doesn't?" exclaimed Mrs. Milward, with some feeling.. "Though I'm bound to say," she added generously, "that Deborah behaved very well about it all." "Did she have to explain to many people?" asked Honey, who could not quite control a reluctant vet fascinated curiosity about the situation that she had left behind her when she had fled upstairs. "She didn't explain the real facts to anyone. She merely made graceful excuses to the few people who inquired about your absence." "Was it very difficult?" "Not as difficult as one might have supposed." Mrs. Milward determinedly made light of Deborah's and her own difficulties. "Several of the older guests had already gone, and most of the others were dancing in the ballroom. That's the advantage of having a party at anywhere like the Gloria. Once people start dancing, they become absorbed in their own affairs and don't look around too searchingly for other members of the party." "I suppose you're right," agreed Honey, with a slight, irrepressible pang of envy for such singleminded and carefree pleasure. Then her mother went away into her own room. And there was nothing for Honey to do but get' into bed and lie there; thinking of the extraordinary past and the strangely empty future. With a loving efficiency that seemed almost to wall , 138 Honey around, her mother attended next day to every detail of their departure. Miraculously she dealt with inquiries, casual or particular. Tactfully she settled whatever it was necessary to settle with Deborah. And speedily she repacked and arranged for them to depart by a train so,on after breakfast. "Don't you think I ought to see Deborah?" Honey suggested, over breakfast in her room. But her mother shook her head. "It isn't necessary, child. Deborah understands just exactly how you feel about it all. . . ." "How can she?" thought Honey. "I don't understand it myself." "And she knows that, although you don't blame John," went on Mrs. Milward magnanimously, "any meeting would be pointless and painful just now." Honey wanted passionately to say that her mother had gone rather far if she had been as emphatic as that. But what good was it to dispute the details of the break? In any case, perhaps her mother was right. It was difficult to see how any meeting could do anyone a service. Only, as Honey and her mother passed through the great foyer of the Gloria on their way out. Honey glanced around with almost desperate eagerness. And it was hot Deborah she was seeking. Symbolically perhaps, the only person in sight whom she knew was Millicent. And even she was talking animatedly to someone else and did not notice Honey's departure. It was as though a door closed behind her, shutting off everything to do with Dr. Anston and his private circle. In the train, Honey inevitably found her thoughts 39 running anxiously ahead, to meet the next crisis. And, looking across nervously at her mother, she said, "I don't know how we're going to explain our sudden return to Daddy." '' "I have explained," her mother replied composedly..'"! telephoned to him last night." "Oh, Mother, did you? Did you tell him about the broken engagement?" "No. I merely told him that Deborah had to return to the States immediately, and that we were therefore, of course, cutting our visit short." "How did he sound on the phone when you told him that?" "Like a man on a desert island who sees a sail on the horizon," replied Mrs. Milward indulgently. "Your father is a man who likes to have his womenfolk around him." Honey laughed a little and then sighed enviously in the mistaken, but quite common, belief that one's parents don't really know what heartbreak is. "Then you didn't mention about me at all?" "No. For one thing, the thing went 'pip-pip,' which always demoralizes me. And, for another, I didn't really know at what point you intended to make the break public." sity of making a definite decision pressed upon her, she looked at her mother in some distress. "I don't think there's any special hurry," Mrs. Milward said, with a steadying calm. "I see no reason why you shouldn't finish your few days' leave quietly at home now, without any crisis atmosphere. Then, when you've gone back to the hospital, I'll tell your father all about it. At least, I will tell him as much as he will understand," she added, in kindly but firm 140 qualification. She smiled softly at her daughter. "Oh, Mother!" Honey felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Can you reallyput it off until then?" "Of course, darling." Her mother smiled. "When you've been married as long as I have, you get to know that tactful timing smoothes out most family crises." "I expect you're right," Honey agreed soberly. And then she fell to wondering if her own timing, in relation to the breaking of her engagement, had shown any of the tact tha^t her mother so justly regarded as important. If she had not panicked so stupidly because Dr. Anston kissed heror, more exactly, because of the way she felt when Dr. Anston kissed hershe might still be in London enjoying her fictitious engagement. Though whether or not that would have been an advantage, she was not able to decide at this moment. They arrived home in the early afternoon by taxi, since Mr. Milward could not get away to meet them at the station. Honey's first impression was that the delicious, uneventful peace of one's own home was the most heavenly thing in the world. But, once she had unpacked her things, had an early supper with her mother, and looked around the garden, the dreadful conviction began to grow upon her that delicious and uneventful'peace was not at all what she wanted. During the last few weeks she had lived in a state of perpetual excitement and anxiety. If she had had to give an opinion at the time, she would have declared, of course, that it was a most harrowing way of life and that it was altogether too bad that she had had that situation thrust upon her. 141 But now, now that she had nothing to worry about, no anxiety lest some fresh crisis should involve Dr. Anston and herself, she wondered bewilderedly how she had lived so busily and happily before he had entered her life. That was what it always came back to: Dr. Anston and the way her life had centered around him recently. If only she had been a little less precipitate. If only. . .. But she refused to let her fancy follow that dangerous path. Better accept the situation as it was and decide, first of all, how she was going to meet her father's affectionate inquiries, and then, much worse, the comments and questions of her friends and colleagues when she returned to the hospital. In spite of some reflective, and even disquieted, glances from her mother, Honey was still wearing her engagement'ring. How else, she asked herself, was she to substantiate to her father the theory that she was still engaged? But even this precious delay could last no more than a few days. When her leave was up and she returned to the hospital, she would have to take off "her ring and face the consequent astonishment and curiosity. The meeting with her father was not difficult. He was inclined to think that whatever her mother did was right, and so h
e expressed sympathy for the abrupt curtailing of their pleasure, while quite obviously delighting in their unexpectedly early return. And then, apart from ,commenting somewhat unwisely on the fact that they did not seem to have managed to spend much money, he had little more to say. But even he might have detected some inexplicable 142 depression in his daughter's manner, and suspected complications, if a rival claim on all their interests had not presented itself. Heralded by no more than a telegram, delivered in person by an excited Miss Morris from the post office earlier in the evening, Michael arrived home very late that night. "But, darling" Mrs. Milward flung her arms around him and blinked away a tear"I thought you were building a bridge in darkest Africa or something." "A generator," he corrected her kindly, "and not in darkest Africa. Quite near civilization." "It's the same thing," Mrs. Milward said happily. And, being a kind fellow, her son did not insist on pointing out that it was entirely different. He merely explained modestly that, owing to some pretty good work on the part of himself and his team, they had finished well ahead of schedule. Even Honey's heart felt lighter at the sight of her tall, carefree, affectionate brother. And he had so much to tell them all that, for a while at least, she managed to put off his questions about her engagement almost casually, with the promise that they would talk of that later. "The subject requires a whole session on its own, I guess." Her brother smiled at her good-humoredly. "But at any rate tell me who it is. Honey." "John Anston." "One of the surgeons at the hospital," her father amplified. "An exceptionally good fellow." "But I thought that was the chap you wrote about in your last letter but one," Honey's brother said, with an exactness of recollection that might be flatteri43 ing but on this occasion, was slightly embarrassing. "You said then that he was a perfect stinker, or words -' to that effect." "I changed my mind," Honey -explained, coloring slightly, while her father laughed a good deal and her mother looked unusually grave. Michael gave his father a man-to-man grin at this and remarked maddeningly that he believed nurses always fell in love with their surgeons at some point or another. "They don't, you know," said Honey almost coldly. "Well, you're not in a very good position to argue thafone," her brother told her amusedly. "Look what you've done." At this Honey smiled with as good a grace as she could. She tried to' look like the happily engaged girl who hardly minded what jokes were made at her expense. Her brother, satisfied that all was well with his dearly loved Honey, turned once more to his parents and began to explain in great detail just how it was he had managed to finish his generator ahead of time and thus surprise them in this delightful manner. And, if they nodded their heads arid looked very wise and knowledgeable, without really understanding much of what he was saying, they were doing, no more than the rest of us do when a beloved person insists on embarking upon technical explanations that have no interest at all for us, apart from their connection with the speaker. With relief, as well as sisterly partiality. Honey saw thankfully that the household was probably going to revolve around her brother during .the next few days. If that were the case, perhaps she might dare to hope that her own miserably tangled affairs would escape 144 any great degree of comment or question from them But, again, as soon as one had been virtually dealt with, one had to look ahead anxiously to the next one. And right in front of Honey loomed the worst crisis of all. The dreadful necessity of returning to the hospital no longer engaged to Dr. Anston. She lay awake for a long time that night, trying to steel herself against the thought of the astonished and pitying glances she would have to encounter; not to mention the point-blank questioning there would be from some other less delicate minded colleagues. And then, toward morning, she arrived at a partial solution of the problem. She decided that she would telephone Barbara sometime during the day, tell her of the broken engagement, and ask her to pass on the news as tactfully as she could, with the firm indication that Honey wanted no questions on the subject. It was not a very brave way of dealing with the situation, Honey knew. But she felt she had just about had enough of being brave, bright, and resourceful. And, in any case, she knew that Barbara would shoulder the task with friendly willingness. Even this was something she shrank from doing. But, early that afternoon, when she knew Barbara would be off duty, her brother was safely out of the house, and even her sympathetic mother was somewhere in the garden. Honey summoned all her resolution, telephoned the residence and asked for Barbara. As she stood there, holding the telephone in her . hand and trying not to notice how heavily her heart was thumping, she felt a cowardly hope rise within her that Barbara might be out. But someone picked i45 up the receiver at the other end, and Barbara's voice said, "HelSo." "H-hello," replied Honey a little unsteadily. "This is Milward. Honey" "Honey! Are you speaking from London?" "No. I'm speaking from home." "But I thought...." "Yes, I know. We came back sooner than we intended. Dr. An-'-John's sister had to go back to the States unexpectedly. And anyway, the engagement is off. That's what I called up to tell you." She rushed on so that Barbara could not unnerve her with exclamations and interruptions. "I'll tell you something about it when I come back. But will you let the others know, Barbara, and please tell them that I don't want any questions or commiseration. Not any." / There was a long silence at the other end. "Are you still there?" asked Honey timidly. "Yes, of course. I was just wondering what to say. If you don't want either questions or commiseration" "Oh, I didn't mean that for you personally, Barbara! Though, of course, one can't, say anything much on the phone." "N-no. But can I at least ask if, well, did you do the breaking off, or did he?" "Oh, I did," Honey explained, more forlornly than she knew. "I see. But are you absolutely sure about this, Honey? Wouldn't you rather I delayed telling" "Absolutely sure," insisted Honey. "I don't know that it is such a complete surprise for me." "You mean you never thought it would wprk?" "I don't mean that at all. To tell the truth, in an odd way, I thought it would work. Once I'd recovered from 146 the initial surprise, I mean." Again, a long silence. "But then, " with difficulty Honey kept her voice steady, "how could you guess that .anything had gone wrong?" "I suppose it was just the way Dr. Anston looked when I saw him this morning." "You .. . you saw him this morning?" stammered Honey. "Where?" "In the hospital, of course." "But it isn't his day for operating." "Not his regular day, no. But he was summoned for an emergency. There was a consultation this morning and he's operating this afternoon. One of those three or four-hour touches, I believe it is." Honey was bereft of speech. For there rose before her such a clear picture of Dr. Anston in the operating room. She could almost see the glint of his cool gray eyes above the surgeon's mask, and the incredibly delicate movements of the long, strong hands in the surgeon's gloves. And she wished she could be there with him. With a nostalgic longing, amounting almost to passion, she wanted to be with him wherever he was. In the operating room, in London, in Meadlands. It didn't matter where, because, wherever he was, there was the center other world. M7 "ARE you still there?" It was Barbara ,who asked the question this time. "Yes of course. What did you mean, Barbara, when you said you thought something might be wrong, from the way Dr. Anston looked? How did he look?" "I don't know quite how to describe it. Grim and remote and .. . dispirited. I don't ever remember seeing him look that way before. Grim and remote, but not the other thing." Honey bit her lip and didn't manage, to say anything in reply to that. She could only think how very badly she had managed everything. "Is it quite beyond mending, Honey?" Barbara inquired, after a few moments' silence. "I'm afraid so." "You've returned your ring and everything?" Honey glanced guiltily at the bright circlet on her finger. But it would be too ridiculous to say, after all her protests and assertions, that she was still wearing Dr. Anston's ring. So, hastily, and quite untruthfully, she said, "Oh yes!" and immediately decided'that she must somehow find some way of turning intention into fact as soon as possible. In spirit, the gesture had unquestionably been made. In practical form it must now be completed. "Well," Barbara was saying, "I'm terribly sorry about it all, and I can imagine you're feeling pretty 148 depressed at the moment. But you know your ow
n affairs best, I don't doubt, and there s nothing helpful one can say. Particularly if you'd rather not. talk aboutit anyway. I'll tell the others for you, though, if that's really what you want." Hohey.said unhappily that this was indeed what she wanted. Then she thanked Barbara for (a&mg on an awkward task and replaced the receiver. Her mind was still very much on what she had just'been told about Dr. Anston's mood that morning. So he was at the hospital' Not more than 20 miles away. Although, of course, this meant nothing at all when they were a thousand miles apart in all that mattered. It was no use lingering nostalgically o.ver that thought, she told herself. She must now give her whole attention to the practical problem of returning his ring to him, thus making the situation as final as she had already described it. One could send it back by registered mail, of course, accompanied by a cool and dignified little note. But Honey blanched at the thought of Miss Morris's reaction if she were to present herself at the post office with a significantly small parcel addressed to Dr. Anston. There must be another way, a better way.-The excited color flooded into Honey's face. She glanced at her watch and then stood there perfectly still in the sunlit hall for a moment, as though frightened by her own inspiration. In ten minutes' time the local bus would be passing the end of the road. In less than an hour it would be in Forchester. She could be in Forchestcr, where Dr. Anston was. He would still be operating, in all probability. But i49 even the longest operation does come to an end at last. He would be free then to accept his ring from her hands, and to exchange with her whatever words still remained to be said about this whole sorry business. "It's betfer than just finishing everything with a formal note," Honey told herself almost feverishly. "He owes it to me to at least.. . no, perhaps I owe it to him. Well, anyway, it doesn't matter which way around it should be. It only matters that I should see him and speak to him once more. Not as Nurse Milward, but as Honey." She whirled around and ran out into the garden at the back of the house. "Mother, Mother! I've julst remembered something I have to do in town," she called to her mother, industriously weeding near the bottom of the garden. "I can catch the tnree o'clock bus, if I hurry. I'll be back for dinner, I think. But I must run now!" Before her mother could call back any more than the "Very well, dear" of all well-trained or naturally understanding mothers. Honey had turned once more, rushed through the house, grabbing her purse and gloves as she ran, banging the front door behind her. . As she ran down the road, she saw Miss Emms coming toward her, on the other side. But nothing was going to stop Honey now. Not even Miss Emms in search of information. She waved with false cheerfulness as she passed and ran on, aware that Miss Emms stood and looked after her, undoubtedly asking herself what Honey Milward could be doing, tearing along the road like that on a warm afternoon. With two minutes to spare, she caught the Forchester bus, more than half-empty at this time in i501. the afternoon. Only a matter of minutes after the great decision had been made, she was jogging along the road she had so often traveled to and from the hospital.. Sitting in the front seat, she now had time to review the position and consider her'plan of action. As she did so, her first ardor began to cool. In the hall at home seemingly all she had to do was to make sure that she caught the bus and go to Dr. Anston. Now, she saw, she might well travel the first 20 miles of her journey with ease. But then, how did one bridge the final gulf? How was she a nurse out of uniform and supposedly on leave, in any case, to find her way to the side of a busy and distinguished surgeon, who did not even know that she was coming and probably would* not want to see her if he did? Honey glanced down self-consciously at her dress. Pretty, informal, highly suitable for an afternoon at home or'in the garden, but almost as conspicuous as a bathing suit in hospital corridors on a non-visiting day. "I'll simply have to slip into the residence and change into uniform," she thought, slightly surprised herself at the coolness of her. planning. "And then....".. Yes ... what then? One could not hang around corridors, hover outside the operating room, or otherwise invite comment on one's curiously unoccupied state. __ "I'll go to his office," Honey thought suddenly, "where he has his consultations. And if his secretary is there. . .. Oh,I'll think of something to say. To her I shall still be his fiancee." She felt disproportionately 15^ cheered at the reflection. "I might even. ... Well, anyway,i'llsee." Boldness usually pays dividends. And Honey, outwardly calm, however much she might be quaking inwardly, found no difficulty in entering the residence. She gained the safety other own room without meeting anyone who happened to know that she shouldn't be there. She changed rapidly, in spite of her trembling fingers that made unusually heavy work of fastening her belt and pinning on her cap. And, thankful that not even Barbara had seen her. Honey went across by the covered way to the hospital building itself with a purposeful but unhurried air. As she entered the high central hall of Emergency, she experienced terror of what she was doing for a moment. Officially speaking, she had no right to be here at all. She was, according to the records, on leave in London. And it made one feel oddly like a criminal to be putting the official records in the wrong. However,-she went on determinedly. Her expression of thoughtful occupation made her look, she hoped, just like any other busy nurse going about her lawful duties. Once her heart almost jumped into her throat, because there, only a. few turnings ahead of her, was Matron herself. And, incredible though it might seem, Matron always knew where one should be at any given time. Certainly she could not fail to remember that Nurse Milward, who was engaged to Dr. Anston, should be on leave. But, by great good fortune. Honey reached the elevators just then, and one of them stood open, ready to receive her. The gate clanged behind her. She was 1.52 whisked upward, away from Matron's dangerously knowledgeable glance and onto the topmost floor, to the surgeons' consulting rooms. By now Honey's heart was beating heavily, and she found it quite extraordinarily difficult to breathe in anything but shallow tittle gasps. Just as though she had run up all those flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. Outside the last door in the corridor, the door with Dr. Anston's name upon it, she hesitated for almost half a minute. Then she raised her hand and knocked timidly. A voice immediately bade her, "Come in." But it was not the voice of Dr. Anston. It was the voice of his very competent secretary. And, not knowing whether she was relieved or disappointed by this reprieve, Honey opened the door and entered. Dr. Anston's secretary was standing before a small mirror, putting on her hat. But she turned at Honeys entrance and said briskly, "Yes, Nurse?" Then she saw who it was, and her tone changed - subtly. "Oh, Nurse MilwardI didn't realize it was you. I expect you want to see Dr. Anston personally?" "Yes, please." Honey tried not to sound as frightened as she felt. "He should be here almost any time now. Do sit down and wait, won't you?" It was as easy as" that! Honey sat down, nearer the edge of the chair than a self-confident fiancee should have done, and, in an effort to make light conversation, said huskily, "I suppose he's operating?" "Yes, of course. It was an emergency, and he 53 expected to be downstairs most of the afternoon." "I see." The secretary took a pair of gloves from her top drawer and smoothed them a trifle self-consciously. "I hope you don't mind if I slip away now. Dr. Anston did say I could go early." "Why, yes of course." Honey was faintly embarrassed at the implication that explanations were due to her. Almost as though she were more or less the surgeon's wife! "My boyfriend is home on leave," the other girl explained happily, as she pinned a rose to the lapel of her suit. "He's in the navy, and we hope to be married next year." "Do you?" said Honey, envying her her simple joys. "How nice." The secretary laughed slightly at that and glanced curiously at Honey. "Same pleasant fate for you, isn't it?" she said. "When are you planning your wedding?" "Iwehaven't decided yet," Honey replied. And then she simply could not add anything else. So the secretary didn't ask more. But she said goodbye and went away, secretly deciding that Honey was the upstage kind giving herself airs, just because she was engaged to one of the surgeons. Honey sat on the edge of her chair, clutched her hands tightly together, and wished she had never come. Why had she come, anyway? What was there to say to
him, now she was here? Mechanically she counted her heavy heartbeats and looked around the quiet, somewhat austere office, and thought this is. where he interviews people. This i54 is where he talks to them in that quiet, confident reassuring manner. This is where he must have made many decisions that have meant hope and happiness for countless people. Only he can't make any happy or hopeful decision for me. And then she heard his footstep outside. Before she could even rise to her feet, the door opened and he was in the room. For a moment he must have mistaken her for his secretary, for that tense, absorbed, exhausted air that followed on any long and anxious operation did not alter. Then suddenly, as though he refocused on a world outside the operating room, he realized who she was and said, "Honey. ..." he stopped a few paces away from her, as though he thought he might frighten her if he came nearer. "What is it, child?" he asked gently. "How is it you're here and in uniform?" "I couldn't come any other way." She looked at him with big, frightened eyes, that reflected a good deal of the anxiety she had experienced over her unorthodox behavior. . "I see. And you had to come?" He pulled out the chair behind his desk and dropped into it, a little wearily though his eyes were bright and alert as they observed her. "Why did you have to come, Honey?" "I thought" she twisted his ring on her finger, "Iought to give you back your ring in person, rather than...." She looked down at her hands. "Oh!" The exclamation was sharp, as though something had annoyed or hurt him. "I meant you to keep that." "But I couldn't! One never does when . .. when an engagement is broken." 55 "Not if it's a real engagement, perhaps. But you went through a good deal ofunhappiness and embarrassment on my behalf. Honey. I wish you'd keep the ring." "As a sort of payment, do you mean?" She was horrified. "No, of course not! Don't be a little idiot." She was silent, and after a moment he said more quietly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. And, in any case, I should have started by apologizing to you." "For what?" Honey raised her eyes and looked at him. ' "For the whole miserable business, I suppose, Honey. But most of all for what happened the other evening." "The other evening?" She looked puzzled. "When I kissed you and made you so angry and frightened," he reminded her grimly. "Oh, that, I wasn't frightened of you," Honey said half to herself. "You gave a most convincing impression of being so," he told her dryly. "I understood that was why you slapped my face and finally broke the engagement." "Oh, no." She remembered the slap on his cheek and felt very contrite about it. "It wasn't you that I was frightened of." "Of whom, then?" She was silent, suddenly seeing a gulf open at her feet. "It doesn't matter." She stood up, and with a sudden movement wrenched the ring from her finger and placed it on the desk. "There. There's no point in 156 talking any more about it. I just wanted 10 return the ring and . . . and go." "But I don't want you to go, without answering my question." He too stood up, but she slipped past his desk and made for the door. . "Honey...." But she would not answer the supplication in his tone and grasped the handle of the door. "Nurse!" "Sir?" All the discipline of three years' training went into the lightning reaction to that authoritative tone, and she turned immediately. "Come here, please." "No one wearing the uniform of St. Margaret's could ignore that command, said in that tone. Honey walked back slowly until she stood before him. "Yes, sir?" she said, with her head bent. "When I kissed you the other night" this remark slightly disturbed the nurse-surgeon relationship, but only slightly "you were desperately frightened about someone or something. You say you were not frightened of me. What were you frightened of then?" "I don't want to say," Honey told him in a whisper. "But I insist on knowing." He spoke almost gently that time, but quite determinedly. Two tears trembled on her gold-tipped lashes. And after a moment he took both her hands in his and said, "I don't insist on knowing. But won't you tell me?" "I was frightened," Honey whispered, "because of the way it made me feel. I didn't know by then what was real and what was make-believe. But I wanted...! wanted...." She pulled one of her hands away and rubbed it across her eyes like a child. 57 "What did you want, my darling?" asked Dr. Anston. And, taking her in his arms, he held her so close that Honey felt she and her stiffened uniform went equally limp. "I wanted it to be true," Honey said with a deep sob and buried her face against him. "But, my dear, siily little love," said the most distinguished surgeon of St. Margaret's, "It is true. Everything that kiss implied is true. I adore you. Don't you know that? You're the most entrancing, fascinating, touching, infuriating and altogether beloved creature to me. Haven't you'realized that yet? Didn't you know that I was caught in my own tangle of. make-believe almost from the first moment?" "I couldn't know," exclaimed Honey, her face still hidden against his white coat. "How was I to know? You were talking about perhaps marrying Millicent later, and affecting to cheer me up with the constant reassurance that it would all soon be over?" ' "I had to say that. Honey. I didn't know that you'd moved very far from the days when you thought me a monster." "Oh, you must have known that!" She raised her head and looked at him reproachfully. "I hoped occasionally and, forgive me now, dearest, I even hoped to make you a little jealous over Millicent. Stupid, I know." Honey was silent. Then she said slowly, "It wasn't stupid. I hated her." Dr. Anston began to; laugh at that. And then, as though he recalled that all too recently they had touched tragedy, he stopped laughing and kissed her softly. "You still haven't told me what all this means, you 158 know." His eyes were grave, now, and demanding. "What all... what means?" "Fear of what you felt when I kissed you. Your feeling that you must come and see me. Your jealousy of Millicent. Your letting me hold you in my arms, as I've wanted to for weeks now." "Oh. . .." She smiled faintly, and then with a hint of mischief. "I should have thought you could add all that up for yourself without much difficulty." "But I want you to say it to me, my darling." His tone was urgent, almost pleading and, looking up at him, she saw for the first time that his usually light gray eyes could look dark with anxiety. "Oh, darling Dr. AnstonJohn, I mean. ;. ." She flung her arms around him and kissed him, in a way that should have reassured any man. But, just in case he still wanted the whole thing in words, she went on, "broke away from his tender embrace and had' snatched up the receiver even before he could say, "Ofcourse." 160 Eagerly she demanded to be connected with the nurses' residence. Then she stood there, alternately fuming at the seeming delay and praying that Barbara should, somehow, not yet have begun the tactful and friendly service she had undertaken. It seemed ages before anyone answered, and then fresh ages before Barbara's voice sleepily said, "Hello." "Oh, Barbara! It's Honey. Have you told anyone yet about my engagement being broken?" "No, I have not," replied Barbara crossly over the telephone. "Look, Honey, I've only just woken up. I'd still be asleep, as a matter of fact, if you hadn't called. I haven't had time to get around to" "Oh, thank goodness! That's all right. Then don't." "What did you say?" "I said, don't. Meaning, don't get around to telling anyone. The engagement isn't broken, after all. In fact, it's all just wonderful. I'll explain later." There was an eloquent silence. Then Barbara said, "You might give it to me in writing next time, will you? Just to get things straight first time; so you won't have to wake me up when I'm sleeping off night-duty, to tell me you're not engaged and then you are." "I'm terribly sorry," Honey explained contritely. "But terribly happy too." "Well, I guess that's all that matters," Barbara said with a laugh. "I don't really mind being woken up to be told that." And then she hung up. "It's all right." Honey turned a relieved face to Dr. Ansfon. "She hadn't told anyone." He looked a good deal amused, but faintly relieved too, Honey thought. For nothing is harder to unsay 161 than good, solid hospital gossip. This was a break! "Now' let's go home and tell Mother." Honey smiled with fresh radiance as she thought how happy her mother would be. "Give me ten minutes to change, and I'll meet you downstairs." "Make it a quarter of an hour. I have one or two things to attend to here," he-replied, with a glance at the pad on his desk. And neither of them noticed that they were talking now like two people who were engaged, and riot two people who were pretending to be engaged. As Honey made her way back to the residence, it was all she could do not to sing or laugh aloud, or otherwise make her rapturous happiness known to all the world. But she contented herself with smiling radiantly at everyone she passed until she Suddenly realized that she was beaming at Sister. She stopped immediately and said, "Why, Nurse- I thought you were on leave." She stared at her. "Yes, I wasI meanram," explained Honey con-' fusedly. . "Then why," enquired Sister, not unreasonably, "are you here, in uniform?" "Well, I... I had to see Dr. Anston. About something very urgent." "Something private, you mean?" "Yes. Something private." "That doesn't quite explain the uniform, does it?" Sister looked piercingly at Honey. "You know'as well as I do, Nurse, that you aren't supposed to wear your uniform when you're off duty;." "N-no. But it was the only way .of getting into the hospital without- comment or question," Honey explained, unable to think of anything but the exar? /162 truth, in the emergency of the moment. "And I had to see him." It is possible that the slight break in Honey's voice conveyed more to Sister than she had intended. At any rate, a slight' smile touched her usually severe mouth, and a faintly humorous glint came into her rather fine eyes. "I see," she said dryly, but not unkindly. "I hope everything is ... all right now." "Oh, yes," Honey assured her with candid rapture. "Everything is simply wonderful." "I'm glad to hear it." Again there was that dry, but rather human note in Sister's voice. "But change into^ something more suitable for o'ff-duty hours now." "Yes, "Sister. And thank you, .Sister, very much," Honey said fervently, before she sped away to her room to change into a dress as Sister suggested. And, in the glow of happiness that enveloped her at this moment, it seemed to Honey that Sister was an altogether sweet and lovable person. When she met Dr. Anston a quarter of air hour later, he kissed her as though he had not seen her for a month. And all the way out to Meadlands they talked of how much they loved each other and how silly they had beenwhich was true, of coursenot to have discovered this before. As they neared home. Honey's eager impatience to tell her mother the good news became 'almost uncontrollable. When they finally arrived outside the house, she jumped out of the car almost before it had stopped and rushed into the house, crying, "Mother, Mother, where are you?" But it was her father who came out of the living room, holding his evening paper and demanding, 163 "What's die matter? Is the place on fire? Why are-" "Oh, Daddy!" Honey flung her arms around her father. "I'm engaged to Johnreally engaged, I mean." ' . Her father kissed her indulgently and sai'd mildly, "Well, that's Jine. But I did know that already, you know." "Oh ... oh,, yes. You did, didn't you?" Shamefaced, but radiant. Honey smiled at him, remembering then that he knew nothing of the recent crisis and was therefore hardly in the picture. "I guess I'm a little bit crazy at the moment." . . "I guess so," agreed her father kindly. "Most people are when they're engaged. Your mother and I were, as I remember. .Hello, John. Come and have a dnnk." John Anston paused for a moment to smile at his darling before following Mr. Milward. Perhaps there came to him the sweet, instinctive knowledge that one day, in the far distant future, he would say much thesame words to his daughter. 164