"BARBED WIRE."

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 29, 3 February 1916, Page 10

"BARBED WIRE."

-' (By FRANK HAMEL.) JElsie dropped her uooV: -os. fcs tas'.O in-a spirit of utter weariness. Why was there so much disappointment in tnc world. Inn- years she had succeeded in living by" her pon.'and just when fame was within her grasp the war had swept a\Cay her chances. Jlic novel tbat was to have made her fortune had been stillborn, and the publishers had written to say how sorry they were that the sales had been spoilt because the public were more interested in-reading war-news. Since the beginning of the war she had had no work, and if this condition of things continued, it would be necessary for her to leave her Hat.

Buring the throe years she had lived | in<-it. the flat had been a constant sourco£joy. It formed the top storey of a block of offices, and contained two rooms, a lw.thr.oorn. and a kitchen. Looking round her pretty sitting-room her gUSnce fell on many treasured possessions, a couple of fme water-colour sketches, a book-case filled with favourite volumes, a valuable pairof vases, a clock inherited from an uncle, her piano, and her writing-desk. Sweet memories clung round them all. If she had to leave, what would become of her precious things, many of which had been bought from the proceeds of an article or;; a short story, and were the more cherished nn that account? o Slsie felt she was selfish to' repine when other people had far more serious troubles still. She shook off her gloomy ihoushts with determination, and went to„:thc front door to fetch in the milk for tea. She left tho doors open behind her and came to a standstill at the top of the stairs, because she heard a hustle in the offices below.

A voice she knew well was saying impatiently. '' It's a grart nuisance. See that they send round to repair the line at' once."

At that moment Elsie's telephone hell rang and the speaker looked up. his keen {Trey eyes mcetints her dark ones. "Excuse me— istf't that your telcnlrone?" lie asked in a more gentle voice. S-Yes." she answerer! excitedly, "I do lope it's an editor." She hurried in. forgeiting the milk and Tiealeeting to close the door, only to find that someone had been put through to thSwrong number. Deeply disappointed, she.' turned and found to her astonishment that the man had followed her into the; room.

*I am tahing an unwarrantable liberty.'' he said, "but you would be doing ui ( va real favour if you would let mc use your instrument. I expect you gathered from the fuss that was going on downstairs that my line is out of order." JJI thought something was the matter. Mine's completely at your service." she said cordially. She was interested in this man. He did not wait to be hsked twice, IniS took the receiver from its hook and called up a number in London Wall. SpSLne^eu^lirgv,intent he was. and t'i."jt.T3Ji : por«-er|s-'rfe had—a good figure.-broad : shfpjifjered and straight, and was wearing, a--well-cut tweed suit. His head was slightly bent over the telephone, and she noticed his closely-cut brown hair. For three "years she had seen him again and again on the stairs, and had been' impressed by his personality every time. though .never ln-fore, liatLUlsy-fiS-CaaionJo. speak'To one another. "That y-ou.-flaTke?" he was saying. " TakjC._dow.ri_.these particulars, will you?, 1)0,1100 tons, c.i.f. Havre—same shipment a.s~ w- e were discussing when the line brake down —delivery 10.000 a week, twelve pounds a ton, contract to be signed fo-night. Is that 0.X.?" JHe was silent a moment. Then be mprnmred " Yes—yes. In ten minutes. Pure? Say—" he turned hastily to Elsie to ask her number, and when she gave it he- repeated it over the telephone. "Ring mc rip here —Got that?" He appeared sa.tis.tied. and rang off. yVheuhe .turned to;.her he was smiling. *' This Ts-good of. you.- My nanie'sWadd"ley—Wßfred 'Afaddeley. T know you very welt* indeed hy sight, Miss Glover." She was miHly surprised when he 6poke her name, aud apparently he read hex thoughts. .".'.' "It's on your doorplate. you know. I've often wondered what sort of a flat this would make up here. You've a cosy litStle place to be sure."" He looked around appraisingly while Elsie wondered whether she ought to ask him to sifc_down. Againhe interpreted what was passing in-her mind. - I ought to apologise for presuming on your good nature and asking my business friend to ring mc up here. I'm afraid I acted on impulse. It's a very important piece.of business or I should not have made;s,o free. Will you .forgive roe?" "Of course I will.'' she answered. you-sii down till-the call comes?'' "Thanks, if you're snre I'm nqt interrupting you. It's quiet here after my office—there's something restful about tins place." His look wandered round the rooms again, and then dwelt on her face. He noticed.its delicate outline, her large daa-k eyes "with "their long lashes. -hex firm lips and kindly smile. He saw, iojo. thai her cheeks were white and the «yes had shadows under them. She was charmingly dressed in a soft clinging which .suited the graceful lines of ler figusre. " Sit here," she said winningly. indicating a comfortable chair, "and if yo.i don't miad. I should like to go on making - tea. Its getting late, and I won't -treat you as a stranger. Have yon time jfor- a cup-?" SAII the time there is," he said. '"Do you know that you are heaping coals ot ifirfi on an interloper's head? I've hoped fo£ an opportunity of getting to know yqn, bat I'm ashamed of having thrust imyself upon -you-like this."----i Elsie smiled in response. She did not try to disguise from herself that she found his presence stimulating. She ha;<l moped for so long and had listenel to;-so many people's troubles that she liad become heartsick and wean-. It was a relief to meet someone who had cot lost zest in everyday-affairs.. "Has the war affected your particular activities?'' be aeked, settling comfortably hack in the chair she had offered him. "For one thing, I don't see any knittmg about. Some of you women oitght to reeerve a special cross of merit for" silent endurance. You not only j suffer a thpousand deaths for dear ones at; the front, but your own lives may (have been irrevocably shattered, and vet not one word of complaint do you utter." .Elsie busied herself with the teacups. ;i'm not one of the Spartan kind," she explained. "I've grumbled horribly, perhaps not openly to others, because 31-seems selfish when they have worse *°- J HU 2H bn * I've thought a great deal daring these empty months."-

He gave, her an understanding look. I "I've thought, too."' he said. "I suppose [f< we all have. First there was the age limit—then my dear, - leerepit, lonely tmother, then a host of young fellows v many with families dependent, on them, 6I all looking to mc for support out of a concern that only I can carry on. Every- t' one has had to find out what was his or f, her particular duty—mine was decided a for mc. luckily. And 1 expect yours was too. I thought your work was one of the arts." He glanced at the piano. "Not music—no signs of easel and can- ( vases—did I bear you mention an |_ editor? Of course, there's your writing- r, table. I suppose the bottom fell out of the market." "That's exactly what happened." "Tell mc about it." he said quietly. t At first she remained silent, for there was a lump in her throat. Then a com- f polling way he had of making others a - look to liim for sympathy let loose the a worls that had been bottled up for a lonj time. x "I've made a name in journalism, you ( j •see." she liegan. "but I always hoped to ,| do something big. something original. I 1 worked hard for years to save up for v the chance. It came, as I thought, and, „ heeiless of bread and butter, 1 threw all my efforts into a novel, it went ' splendidly while 1 was writing it —even j 1 was satisfied, though I don't mean this boastfully, for I'm grateful for my small ! gifts—but war was declared just when it was on the point of publication—it " was too late lo hold it back, and useless ■ to push it forward. You can imagine the rest." She spread her hands out '. dramatically, as though it wasn't necessary to add another word. "Tell mc what the story was about." < "The pin-pricks of life, how terribly ' difficult they seem an.l what, harm they ' can do. That the only cure for them \ is " she broke oil. ' ' "Yes?" he asked when she paused. 'The only cure." she went on steadily. ' though she knew his eyes were reading ' thoughts she would rather have kept '' hidden from him. "is the great peace and ' beauty that come when two people truly love one another." For a moment he did not speak, but ( his clanee eonveve,! something of what 1 lie was feeling. 'Then lie said: "That's , fundamentally true always—war or no war. Your book will still have its chance." "No." she said. "It all seems petty t now. How can anyone think of pinpricks in the face of horrible disasters? It's as dead as though it had never been t printed. And I feel as though—as though part of myself had l>een killed with it." she added grimly. At that moment the telephone bell ; rang. "Hy call." he said. "Excuse mc!" For one bitter moment she regretted having admitted so much, but apparently he had taken her confession naturally as though they were old friend;. He was deep in his business again. " "Yes! That you Clark? What's that? Gone through, you say? The contract on the wav? Splendid! Splendid!" He hung up the receiver an.l turned back to Elsie. But his air was suddenly detached, his mind was working on another subject, and his look was . far ■ - -away. -. ~ -- -' - - -- ■• ~. "You were talking of pin-pricks." he said politely, as though he returned to ' the subject with an effort. "What did you call your book?" !: "If you'd like to look at it, there's a copy on the table. 'Barbed Wire' is the title —the pinpricks, you know. Nasty, '• scratchy stuff it is too." °" '— "■Barbed' Wire?"' he repeated.—"Great , heavens, you don't mean it? Surely that's the ringer of fate pointing. Wait. ." 1 must think " lie stopped short, gave a queer laugh, seemed about to say more but changed his mind. -After a moment, while Elsie looked on, surprised at his emotion, he murmured to himself, "it's too soon, much too soon." 2 Then he snatched the book up from the '" table, thrust it in his pocket, held out " his hand, saying. "I don't know how to thank you for what you've done. Miss " Glover. 1 must go now," and hurried 2 off before Elsie could remind him that after all he had had no tea. The rooms seemed the poorer when ' it had lost his magnetic personality/. . Elsie felt disappointed again. What was it that had caused his sudden , change of manner? She had laid her . heart bare to him. ani the moment her affairs had ceased to be of paramount importance hk awakening sympathy had ' apparently vanished like smoke, and he ' had gone without a word of explanation. ' She sighed as she thought that men were like that, except those whom women writers made the heroes of their -* stories. Meanwhile Maddeley. in a far more » cheerful mood than Elsie, hastened downstairs whistling. In the office he 1 ordered a boy to call a taxi, drove first '* to the Strand, suddenly changed his " mind, and called at a dozen shops, and v then told the Iriver to take him to " Grosvenor Gardens. His best friend. Lady Gwendoline Poynter. received him with surprise. .; "Walter says lie hasn't seen you for weeks, and that you never leave business till the most unconscionable hours." y Walter was her husband, •t "1 could afford to leave to-day. I've " made a small fortune, one that even ' r you wouldn't despise," lie answered. T "Besiles. this is a business call, Gwen." *i She pouted. "That's a new name for ■'< a visit .here." c "I can't tell you the whole story, but s I'll begin iv the middle. I'm hopelessly ? in love." 't "And you call it business?" "Certainly! Most serious business!" i- He was intensely grave, d "To begin with —what sort of woman '■■ is she?" t "Not any 'sort of woman'—the one c and only woman: honest and sensible, grave and humorous, cold and yielding, practical and romantic; brimful of the d contradictions and inconsistencies the d perfect woman ought to have." .v Lady Gwendoline knitted her brows, t "How long have you known this paragon ?" '1 "All my life." t "Ilni! ' I'll change the form of the c question. How often have you 6poken I to her?" c "Once." t "1 guessed a-? much. I suppose you d 'managed to offend her?" "I hope not." lie was still perfectly r serious. "I may have done something ;- she won't like, but if so, she hasn't tl heard about it yet. You see. she's writs' ten a novel—oh. a splendid novel. I II have a copy of it in my pocket and " t "Have you read it?" asked f>ady V Gwendoline, innocently. S "Not yet—it was ihe title that at- , tracted mc so immensely. Then the war has prevented it from selling and—for a reason I can't explain " lie paused. "You haven't been so Quixotic as to >i buy up the edition with the idea thai T you would he helping her?" interrupted g Lady Gwendoline again, anxiously this ;e tuDl: - ---t "I hadn't a thought of helping her," he said, emphatically.

"Now you've given yourself away,you foolish man," she murmured frowning.

"Wait! 1 can't make clear to you the whole of the mental process by which 1 arrived at my present position, so you must be satisfied when I tell you that 1 changed my plans after 1 made them host, and I've ordered all the books to be sent here. They will ■ arrive in about fifteen different parcels."

"Mercy mc! 1 shall send them straight back where they came from."

"You'll do nothing of the kind, please, ft wen. Y'on'll have the books unpacked land distribute them among your friends."

Lady Gwendoline laid one hand sympathetically on his arm and said, "Poor, poor Wilfred. The war has surely turned vonr brain."

"Not a bit of it." he replied cheerfully. "And what's to prevent your inaiting the author here and getting her and the book talked about?"

She sniffed deliberately, contemptuously even. "What? You ask mc to do that, while parcels of her books are due to arrive every few minutes and the chairs and tables will be covered with them. You must have taken leave of your senses. How do you suppose you can keep her from hearing that her precious lx>ok is being hawked about London as a free gift, and that you are responsible for cheapening it? She'll take it as an insult —if she's the right sort ot woman—and I'm glad I'm not in your shoes."

"But there are circumstances " began Maddeloy. trying to hold his own. Lady Gwendoline flatly refused to listen.

''Circumstances! Fiddlesticks!" she exclaimed. "1 can't think of any that could remedy such a blunder. You'd better go and con lei* to her what you've done before any mischief comes out of it," and though iMuddeley did his best to explain to her. she stuck to her original suggestion that if he valued his future happiness in the least, he had better make a clean breast of the affair to his lady love.

Maddcley felt that in this ease nothing would induce him to take Lady Gwendoline's advice. He wished heartily he had kept to his original plan nnd not let her know anything about the books, lie left the house feeling annoyed with her and not quite at ease with himself. I'eihaps for once his judginient had been at fault.

A week passed and lengthened into ten days. No word came from Lady Gwendoline, and. in spite of making several efforts to meet her. Maddcley did not see Elsie on the stairs. He began to feel uncomfortable lest slio had heard from her publishers that the book had suddenly started selling, and then had made inquiries, and the cat had been let out of the bag. If that was to* ca.se she would cut him for ever and ever. He felt crestfallen and undecided, and as a good business man this frame of mine thoroughly displeased him. At last he could bear it no longer, and llecided to make certain. His mind made up. he hastened to Elsie's flat in office hours and rang the bell. She opened the door herself, and asked him in with a smile that reassured him to some extent. - They sat down opposite one another, and he did hot know in the least how to begin his confession. "When I used your telephone the other day I made a mint of money," he began, and then he realised he had made a false start. .«- . "Lovely!" she said sympathetically. "I'm glad you don't think mc sordid. I like plenty, myself." "So do other people," she replied, "but they can't always get it." "I'll tell you how I made my thou- ' sands, if I may," he went on. She nodded. "I sold a Consignment of —what do you think? —barbed wire. The Governments can't get enough of it for entanglements, you know. When you told mc the title of your book, you nearly took my breath away. It was like a touch of fate bringing mc close to you. I wauted to be closely in touch with you. Your book, which you told mc was so much a part of yourself, seemed suddenly to belong to mc, too. I wanted it to belong to me—'badly, and 1 determined that if I couldn't have the thing I wanted most of all, I'd have the book; so impetuously I went off and bought up every copy I could lay my hands on." "She was so upset that only the last part of his remarks reached her. "You did that?" (She rose from her chair and stood opposite him, her eyes wide open with dismay. "Oh, how could you?' How could you? You've spoilt my only chance of getting known, and I hate you." She turned passionately, took a letter from hef deftk, pulled a cheque out of it, and threw it at his feet. "That came this morning. They sent it out of pity, because they knew I was in trouble. It's yours—not mine —to add to the thousands you'vi been telling mc about." For a moment he paused, controlling the anger her words and action had kindled, then, mastering himself, he stooped dowa in a leisurely manner and picked up the cheque. As he laid it on the table be noticed it was made out for twenty-five pounds, about a tenth of the sum he bad spent. "We are equals again," he remarked in a quiet tone of mastery. "Equals?" she cried. "How can we be equals?" "You think I have insulted you. and I am sure you have insulted mc. That makes us quits." "I can't see it. First you buy my book so that no one has a chance ol seeing it but you, then, after boasting of your riches, you offer mc money or its equivalent. Can you expect mc not to return your gift with contempt?" "If throwing cheques on the lloor in . a temper denotes contempt. 1 can. First , listen to what I have to say. I told you ■ that my original impulse was pure selfishness, but 1 mastered that. I didn't keep the books myself: I sent them to my dearest friend, Lady Gwendoline l'oynter, asking her to see that the novel was taken up by her influential acquaintances. Then, I need never have told you what part I played in the affair, and you would have remained in ignorance of it. Because 1 come here and am honest enough to telt you what I did, you treat mc like this. Beware, or even you may go too far." There was an angry glitter in his eyes. "Even 1?" she repeated, mystified. "Even you." He gazed at her sadly. "If you must have the bald truth you shall". At first I never even thought of helping you. I wanted the book for its own sake, because, you valued it and looked upon it as part of yourself. I felt that 1 could not hear other people I reading it and sharing your inmost thoughts with mc. I wanted it beI cause it seemed the next best thing to , yourself, anad 1 wanted " , "Mr. Maddcley," she interrupted, i "don't go on —please!" Her heart was , beating as though she would suffocate. I "1 must go on, Miss Glover. I've I said either too much or too little to I Btop. I know it's too coon to speak,

that you will look upon what I am going to say as an additional presumption on my part, but I can't help that. I love you, and there hasn't been a day for more than a year that 1 haven't wanted to tell you so. To show you how prepared 1 am to humble myself still further in your eyes I'll confess the extent of my misdeeds. The other day when I let you believe my telephone was out of order, it never occurred to you that we have several lines besides my private wire, and that I could use any one of them, and I didn't enlighten you because 1 saw a chance of getting to know you. What do you think of that';"

Ke stood waiting for her answer, but she said not a word. Speaking was impossible to her. The whole thing was a shock. She could not accustom herself to the novel idea that this man loved her. To her relief there -was a knock at the outer door and she went out, glad of any excuse to break the strain. When she returned she had a telegram in her hand for Maddcley.

"This is for you. They sent it up and want to know whether there's an answer."

He tore it open, glanced at it and saiil "No." It was from Lady Gwendoline. She had wired, "Sent the novel to a bazaar for Belgium relief fund. Copies sold like hot cakes, and everyone's talking of it. No need now to confess." lie read the first part aloud to Elsie

She sat down listlessly, over wrought.

'Without a word of warning, he stepped forward and spoke in a suppressed tone, close to her ear.

"I don't care what I've done and whether it -was ri<rht or wrong. I don't care whether you hate or despise mc. I love you nnd I want you, nnd I mean to have you." He put his arm round her and she did not push him away. "Can't you cut out the preliminaries and jump lo conclusions? Women are supposed to be jrootl at that." He bent down and kissed her passionately, and she did not struggle. "You're n novelist—you've studied these things. Put your c.vperiences into this crowded moment. Dearest, give mc yourself

Of n sudden the passion iv her re sponded to his.

"If I hadn't written that novel I shouldn't have been clever enough to understand," she whispered, as soon as she could speak.

'The novel is going to he a huge success, and so is our life together. It will be due to "llarbed Wire.' but we've evaded the pin-pricks und found the peace and beauty straight away." She smiled at this repetition of Tier words. "It only comes when two people truly love one another," she whispered.