TEN MINUTES' STORY.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIV, Issue 46, 22 February 1913, Page 11

TEN MINUTES' STORY.

THE UNFORTUNATE LOVER. BEING SOME INCIDENTS IN THE __IMOTT_OUS CAREER OF MB. HORACE BENNERTON. CBy F. MORTON HOWARD, in "London Opinion.") HX—THE INCIDENT OF PAULINE. It was raining hard, and the 'bus was full inside—a coincidence which occurs several times yearly in London—when a young lady of queenly beauty mounted tlie step of the vehicle as nimbly as the fashion of the day would permit. Decisively closing her drenched umbrella—to the discomfiture of the conductor—she passed through the doorway and stood waiting for some one to prove that be was a gentleman. Mr Horace Bennerton, in the seat next to " stroke" on his side of the 'bus, gazed in significant reproach at a little man beside a big wife. The little man looked tentatively at his wife's profile, and then plainly made up his mind to run no risks. Indignantly, Bennerton transferred his regard to a youth in a corner: the youth began to read the letterpress ou his penny ticket with a marked concentration of purpose. Bennerton, with a sigh for the decay if chivalry, began to pity the girl for having to stand. In a moment of carelessness, he allowed his glance to wander towards her, and found, too late, that aer expectant ey e was upon him. With *■ suddenly awakened sense of hostility towards the Woman's Suffrage movement, he rose and offered her his place. She took it at once, without a word of thanks; it was clear that she was a lady of some social standing. A minute later, the 'bus passed a public house and one of the passengers hurriedly got out. Bennerton slipped into the vacated seat and found that the bread of politeness which he had ••ast upon the waters was already coming back to him, nicely buttered. " For he was now sitting directly opposite to the girl. fihe was very beautiful. Bennerton realised that at once, without needing the coiroboration afforded by the. stout wife's hostile stare at her." Her face of the well-bred, patrician sort—the type of face so rare among the aristocracy. She bore herself -with an air of dignity .vhich not even the fashionable hat sL: .vote could entirely nnlliffy. Mr Bennerton. a man whose susceptibility to feminine charm was as sensitive as the susceptibility of Transatlantic republicanism to royal recognition, began to be tremendously interested in his vis-a-vis. In this* plebeian conveyance she looked as obviously out ->f place as a diamond buckle on a policeman's boot. He admired her serenity, though there was just a touch of aristocratic contempt ibout it which made him wish that, in >orne way, he could make it known to aer that he, too, had only entered the bus because it was raining. Indeed, tc chat end, he imported a suggestion ol aauteur into his own bearing, but abandoned it hastily when the "horrid ihought presented itself to him that the ady opposite might merely imagine that he was suffering from glandulai -welling of the neck-. « The .conductor came for her fare. Ml Bennerton, a student of contemporarj action, felt his heart leap. Of course, sh< r.-ould find that she had no purse witl tier: he would proffer her fare; thi .ncident would prove to he the found liion stone of their frieuship. It was : recognised crambit in all the magazines ■She opened the bag that swung at hei .vrist. and made a hurried inventory o its contents. A little look of dismay :ame into her face. From the bag s_i .ook a handerchief. vinaigrette, a news paper cutting, something fluffy which she kept concealed in her palm, but no purse The conductor stood with patient ham] outstretched. The stout wife nudgec her husband with the air of one wbc would say " There you see ! " Mi Bennerton began to smile softly, and hi; hand went into his pocket. A blush overspread the girl's cheeks. Then suddenly relief swept into her face and, stooping swiftly, she produced a purse from some intimate pocket beneath aer skirt. And, at the same moment, Mr Bennerton. holding out a coin, remarked eagerly: appear to have lost your purse, Perhaps you'd allow mc to lend you this ? " In icy disdain, she glanced at the proffered coin. In Mr Bennerton's palm ay a ha'penny. His gloved fingers had mistaken the coin for a shilli-g The stout wife sniffed loudly; U was i sniff upon which any interpretation might have been put. Mr Bennerton apologised incoherently for his apparent facetrousness: an d the girl, after one swift glance clean through him to the -.aclv of his head, opened her purse and paid her fare. It only added further to Mr Bennerton"* regret that, after giving her her ticket, the conductor stepped heavily on lis feet as he went out again. The [bus rumbled on. Mr Bennerton, ccovering his composure by degree legan to indulge in daydreams. The rirPs calm superiority appealed to him. de began to understand the vast respect md affection which lions have for their earners. He resolved that somehow he would secure an introduction to this patrician iarusel. She had slighted him; and did not many excellent novels and plays >pen thus? Why should not Romance ie waiting for him as much in a Bays.vater 'Bus a«5 a Mayfair maisonette?" She might be his affinity, he reflected, It-earnily. Affinities don't go about dainty labelled; if they did, some of I ■ s Majesty's courts of justice would be! iM«* to move into smaller premises. The impressic__ble Mr. Bennerton rtole another glance at her, and decided hat she was his affinity—something told lim so. He was sure he was making no 'rror in diagnosis this time. Had he lot recognised his only affinity so itten that he was beginning to be quite m expert at it? By a feat of imagination he pictured linwelf married to this imperious girl. Jsu—Try complacent about his income, le now began to consider it wrth uneasiless. She looked the kind of a girl or -whom a lordly park is the only proper home environment. He found limself wondering whether he .would be .ble to persuade her to accept a London iuburb afi a compromise. And still the 'bus rattled on. De:pito his vigilance she did not dTop her lmbrella; she did not even drop her acket. She was not the slightest help a him in his emergency. He began to ose faith in modern fiction. H_lf-"*ray down Oxford Street sito stop>ed the 'bna with a gr*c_ful, languid tween of bar arm; Mr. Bannert—n real- i ed that, unlsas he was up and doing,

she would go out of the 'bus and out of his life at the same moment. The prospect to one of h_ ardent temperament was intolerable. Was she to come into his existence for a few minutes to leave it blank for ever afterwards? "Not if I know it!" muttered Mr. Bennerton with decision. And the small husband, who was moving forward to secure the more spacious seat she left empty shrank back again timidly. Mr. Bennerton rose hastily and followed the girl off the 'bus. He did not even stop to reprove the conductor for his jovial impertinence. The young lady entered a jeweller's shop. Bennerton came to a halt, and stood examining the window as though it were quite the correct thing to do when it is raining heavily and one has no urnhi•.__. "Faint heart never won fair lady," he ■said to himself iri encouragement. "I guess dear old Solomon hit the bull's eye when he wrote that line. 11l go inside and keep my ears open. Ten to one I'll be able to find out who she is. And then all I've got to do is to find someone who knows her and get them to introduce mc."

Mr. Bermerton often felt sorry foT tiie Diplomatic Corps for what it lost through his disinclination to master foreign languages. He entered the jeweller's, and, approaching the counter, demanded to be shown some collar studs. The proprietor, who had himself come forward to serve him, transferred the job to a junior apprentice.

A man with a diminutive serviette ring stuck in his eye was examining a watch. The girl, faring him across the counter, waited with admirable sangfroid to hear the verdict. "It needs cleaning and readjusting." -yin iow * the watch. it II take about four days or so." •"That wil] do," said the girl graciously. And where shall we send it, madam?" Mr. Bennerton, outwardly hesitating m the choice of two studs exactly alike, gave his whole mind to catching her reply. •

•Two hundred and twenty-one Grosvenor Square," she replied. "And the name, madam?" queried the assistant.

Massingham." she told him. Her voice seemed to suggest faint surprise that the question should have been necessary. you had better address it to Miss Pauline Massingham— I have a sister, you know and sometimes our bills are contused.

" Er —quite so, madam. I've got a brother myself, and '* h e stopped himself abruptly, and with a certain amount of confusion. "Anything I can show you this aiternoon, madam? A little string ol seed pearls or a marquise ring?" ' She allowed him to show her the pearls, but left without making a. purchase. Mr. Bennerton glanced at the data he had hastily jotted down on his cuff, recalled the apprentice from a search for gold studs with blue enamelled centres, and said he would take one of the plain ones after all.

While his purchase was being hermetic ally sealed, a discovery was made.

"The lady's left her bag behind,'' observed tbe watch-vet. to the proprietor.

"It's raining very fast now." replied the other. "She won't come back for it. =Send it on to her this evening."

By an Mr, Bennerton alfec.ted not to have overheard the conversation. Paying for his purchase, he left the shop, and hurried to the nearest Messenger Boys' depot.

'"My sister thinks she left her bag in Stevenson's shop. Oxford Street." he said to the lad in charge. "A dark brown one. You might, telephone through and inquire—name of Massingham."

After .in interval at the 'phone, the hoy informed him that the lady was, indeed, quite correct in her conjecture, or words to that effect.

"Then just send round for it, and 111 take it along to her," said Bennerton, artfully. "I don't want to go paddling about in this hcastly ram more than 1 can Lelo."

The messenger was away rather a long time. An uncomfortable thought occurred to Mr. Bennerton. Suppose Miss Massingham had returned personally to claim her property in the meantime?

He walked to the door and glanced out rather apprehensively. To his relief he saw the returning messenger at the corner of the road in the very act of folding away a tinted publication, and breaking into a run.

Three minutes later Mr. Bennerton was speeding through the rain in a taxi, Pauline's handbag on the seat beside him.

He determined to give her plenty of time in which to reach her home. Then he would call at 221 Grosvenor Square and restore her missing property to her, and, during that brief interview, he would take care to find out whether they had any mutual acquaintances who could further the friendship begun so unconventional] v.

In all things he was an op_mist. It is one of the qualities essential in a man who hag the habit of falling in love. He devoted some time to his toilette, and then smoked a couple of cigarettes in a mood of blissful anticipation. ' He took a photograph from a silver frame and tore it up, with no other sensation than relief. A glove and a faded rose he dropped into his waste-paper basket; he took a letter from his desk and utilised it in lighting his third <_<-_•- ette.

Then, having done all the spring cleaning he thought necessary, he reverently picked up Pauline's handbag and went downstairs with it. "Shall T wait for you, sir?" suggested the taxi-driver, outside 221 Grosvcnor Square. Mr. Bennerton, with a vague idea of ingratiating himself with Fate, had been generous in the matter of fare. "No thanks," smiled Bennerton, havpily. r | | He walked up the steps of Pauline's i home and rang the bell. An unemotional footman opened the door to him. Bennerton caught a glimpse of an. elderly gentleman coming dc>'w_srairß. It seem ed that there was gout in Panline's fantQy—an excellent credeniaaL "Is Miss Maesing-ain in?" qneried Bennerton. "Who, sir?" "Miss Pauline The foot—air's face lost its passivity. He gazed in quick irritation at Mr. Bennerton, and, with terse ho-tilitv, snapBed: "Servants' entrance, please!"