LOVE IN FETTERS

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 249, 20 October 1928, Page 14 (Supplement)

LOVE IN FETTERS

By PATRICIA LEIGH

CHAPTER XVn.

For days after Una had learnt about Rex's former marriage she remained m bed absolutely stunned. Mrs. Blaney was distracted, for she could do nothing with her, and the girl would neither eat nor sleep, but simply lay there inert,' with closed eyes. Rex called several times, but she resolutely refused either to.see him or let him have a message. Then one morning Mrs. Blaney was relieved to find her dressing. Una stopped brushing her hair when .the American woman entered, and looked up at her listlessly. "Of course I can't go back to the W.P.F.," she said, "not after all that has happened. But lam going to ask Uncle Seamore to get me transferred to another branch, somewhere on the Continent." "That can easily be arranged;" replied the other with satisfaction. "I will ring up a few house agents and see about letting the flat at once." Mrs. Blaney was now extremely antagonistic towards Rex, and anxious to get the girl away as quickly as possible. She at any rate did not consider it desirable that the engagement should be renewed. "But you mustn't leave London merely on my account," protested Una. "Besides, you can't possibly be spared, right in the middle of all your work." "Don't you worry about me; I have no illusions about my work; I am quite aware that there are plenty of other people only too eager to take my place. I wouldn't dream of letting you go away by yourself after all you have been through | of course lam going too." "I wonder when Uncle Seamore can see me. I suppose I shall have to wait until this evening when he gets back to hia flat." *Tll arrange that," said Mrs. Blaney briskly. "If you like I will ring him up and find out when I can have a talk with him myself. Is there any special country you would like to go to?" "I don't care where it is so long as it is fairly far from England. Not Paris, or Belgium or Holland." "Very well; I will see what I can do." But when Mrs. Blaney went off to telephone to Sir Seamore Massey she also put through a call to the "New York Tribune" and got Ba/berlin, so that about eleven o'clock Una had a visitor.

She looked at him inquiringly as she entered the room, wondering what had brought him to see her at that hour.

"The chief has just told me to run away and play till to-morrow morning," he lied cheerfully. "So as I had nothing to do, I came round to eee if by any chance you could do it with me."

Una smiled a little in spite of herself.

"I am at a loose end, too," she said, "but I am afraid I would not be an amusing companion in my present mood."

But Haberlin was not looking at her; he had strolled to the window, where he stood staring out at the park.

"Listen to all the little dickey-birds; aren't they telling us to go right out into the country for lunch!" he said.

Una, looking out at the golden sunshine of a perfect English summer's day, noticed for the first time that the sky was cloudless.

"It is rather perfect weather," she remarked, almost in surprise. "I believe I would like to go out after aIL Please take me somewhere quiet, Larry."

"Sure. Run along and put your things on while I decide where you would like to go. Be quick, though, for I had a very early breakfast."

Una went swiftly back to her room and slipped inta a pale green linen frock, with coppery coloured collar and cuffs. She pulled on a little, close fitting hat of rather coarse straw and arranged her hair under it with great care. Odd, she reflected, that she was able to take the least interest in her appearance now that she was never going to see Rex again. But Larry was a good sort; he really had a lot of tact and she could rely on him to follow her lead and keep away from unsafe topics. "Where are we going?" she asked, some of her listlessness already vanishing.

"I don't know yet, but you had better bring along a coat. I am feeling rich to-day, and have chartered a Daimler for the next twelve hours, so we might as well make the best of her."

"You shouldn't do that; it was wildly extravagant of you," she said reproachfully, nevertheless pleased by his thought for her.

It wag a relief to get away from her own thoughts for a little, and she enjoyed the sensation of the warm air rushing past as the car purred its way smoothly through the London traffic and beyond the suburbs. "Don't even tell me where we are going; just find some peaceful spot where we can have a real country lunch In peace.' 'T. am afraid that will mean cold beef, boiled potatoes and a simple lettuce leaf, following by a fruit tart with alleged custard," said Haberlin a little ruefully. "I know these wholesome British lunches in the country, but perhaps we may be able to persuade them to vary the feast a little." At one o'clock they drew up at the "Plough," an unpretentious little inn, gay with scarlet geraniums, and with a tiny garden behind massed with sweetscented cottage flowers. Through part of it meandered a brook where some white ducks with orange feet and bills swam busily to and fro.

Una gave a little sigh of content as she took off her hat and basked in the warm sunshine.

"What a lovely spot. And how clever of you to find it."

"It is rather off the map, but I have had a talk with the innkeeper's wife, who seems an understanding sort of soul, and she has promised to produce lots of eggs and cream and fruit and cheese. Also real lemonade made of lemons, so we may ndt do so badly after all."

"What a dear you are, Larry," murmured Una gratefully. "You do know how to look after people well."

She was astonished to find that she had quite an appetite and was positively able to enjoy her day in the country. The presence of Larry soothed her, too; he was the one person in the world who understood what she had been through, and who could be trusted not to say the wrong thing. When they had finished what proved to be a light but delicious meal, and were drowsing there in silence, listening to the hum of innumerable bees swarming round a great lime tree overhead, Una opened the subject of her broken engagement.

"It was the only thing to do," she explained, "and now I am getting Uncle Se&more to get me transferred to one of the Continental branches.

"I am not sure that you have done the wisest thing," Haberlin told her gravely, "Don't you feel that you could forgive Hex after all, and marry him in spit© of everything. I don't say that he is not to blame, but I honestly think that he acted, as he thought, for the best."

Una's mouth drooped a little, and she thought a moment before giving a reply, nervously twisting her coloured handkerchief between her fingers.

"I feel that I could never entirely trust him again," she explained at last. "It was such a very bad thing to deceive me about, and now everything would be spoilt for me. I should always think about the other woman, wonder where she was, what she was like. She must have cared for him, too, some-time I suppose, as she married him."

Haberlin looked at her keenly. Up till that moment he had not been quite certain whether Rex had told her that Molly had been his wife. Actually he felt relieved, for it was far better that she should remain in ignorance and be spared a knowledge that could only cause her unnecessary pain and humiliation.

"Naturally you know your own business best," he told her, "but it's rough luck on Cunningham."

After that, by tacit consent, they let the subject drop, and later Haberlin produced a couple of London papers.

"I was out till the early hours," he explained, "got up late and only rushed down to the office for a moment before coming on to you."

Una was glancing idly through the "Times," while he studied the "Daily Telegraph," when she gave a startled cry.

"Larry, It isn't—it couldn't be " "What is the matter, Una ?" he asked, dismayed by her expression of acute distress.

She held out the paper to him with hands that shook.

"Here, Larry. Down here. But surely it isn't the same Molly Curtis?" Haberlin almost snatched the paper from her hands, and cursed the ill luck that had made him bring it with him aa he read under the heading of "Decrees nisi."

"Poor little girl, we tried to keep this from you. It was only sheer bad luck that you should have read it in print." "Not Molly, surely? Oh, not Molly!" she whispered.

"Listen, Una. In a sense I was to blame for the whole thing, for I was the one to recognise Miss Curtis and to remember where I had seen Cunningham before."

In spite of her protests he made her listen to his account of the events of the past few months.

"Once and for all yon have got to get this all straightened out," he told her. "You now know the actual facts, and I think that Miss Curtis did the best thing possible under the circumstances. Remember she met you in the first place without having an idea that you were Rex's fiancee, and she had to extricate herself from a very delicate situation in the best way she could." "But Molly—to think that it should have been Molly!" repeated Una, brokenly. m "She is a very attractive girl with a fine character; not many men would have wanted to break their marriage with her," remarked Haberlin thoughtfully.

"Oh, I know," replied Una miserably. "That is the part I don't yet understand. She is a thousand times more attractive than I am."

"She might not appear so to every one," said Haberlin significantly. But Una was too overcome by this new aspect of the situation to notice anything. She turned to him, all her wretchedness apparent in her face: "Now take me home again, Larry. I am sorry, but I must be alone." CHAPTER XVIII. Haberlin paused irresolutely after he had seen Una safely back to her flat. As he was in no mood for his club he set off on font in the direction of his chambers in the Temple. When nearly there, however, he changed his mind; he hailed a taxi crawling past and told the man to drive him to the Majestic.

Miss Curtis, they informed him, was not in, but just as he was leaving he met her coming up the stsps. She seemed very glad to see him and promptly asked him to go back with her, although, as she laughingly reminded him, she did not suppose for a moment that his presence in the Majestic had anything to do with her. "But it has," he protested. "I called here hoping to find you in, as I would like to have a talk with you, if I may." She assured him that she would be delighted, so they sealed themselves in a quiet corner of one of the big balconies overlooking the park and ordered tea. "I came to see you," he began, "really about Una."

Molly immediately looked concerned. "I am so dreadfully sorry for her," she sighed. "It has all been such a miserable business. I intend to go round to see her to-morrow morning some time to see if there is anything I can do."

"She has just had another blow," said Haberlin slowly. "I seem to be a regular Jonah, for if it hadn't been for me nothing would ever have come out in the first place. To-day I persuaded her to go out into the country, and, like a fool, took some newspaper with me." Molly looked up gravely, understanding in her eyes. "And she saw the divorce items." "Did you ever hear of such a stroke of ill luck? But I had no idea it would be in to-day's paper." "I am not sure that I am altogether sorry," she remarked. "It clears the air. If you knew how I have hated this tangle, with all its deception and its lies! Now Una knows everything. I told Rex that it was better to tell her the whole truth, but he did not agree." "It is the last straw so far as poor Una is concerned," Haberlin reminded her. "I know. I am so very sorry, poor girl. But I have felt 6uch a traitor, such a wolf in sheep's clothing all these months. Later, she will understand and forgive, but now I expect she simply hates me." "The best thing for her is a complete change. She has made up her mind to leave England as soon as possible, and her uncle will get her work abroad. It would do her no good to idle away her days in hotels; work will be her only salvation, but work in entirely new surroundings." Molly nodded, resting her lips on the tips of her fingers, a little trick she had. 1

"Then I am very glad you called to warn me," she said. "I would certainly have gone round to see her, but now I will simply send her a little note of farewell.

"Of course I can't help blaming Cunningham," said Haberlin bluntly. "He had no business to get engaged to any girl without explaining first about his marriage." "And I was partly to blame, too," replied Molly, involuntarily coming to Rex's defence. "I let things drift on without ever instituting divorce proceedings. "Frankly, that astonishes me. I could never understand why you did not re-marry in the interval."

Molly shrugged her shoulders. She did not feel that she could unburden her soul to Haberlin, much as she liked him.

"I get along very well single," she remarked smilingly.

Haberlin looked doubtful, but did not continue the subject. 1

"It is Una who has come out of it all the worst," he said.

"On the contrary, she will eventually forgive him, and it will come out all right in the end. The broken engagement has not been made public, and nobody but a few will ever know that anything happened."

"He does not deserve to marry her," burst out Haberlin angrily. But Molly was too absorbed in her own troubles to notice that he was jealous. "It will come out all right for Una in the end," she repeated. "Rex will follow her to wherever she happens to go, and then there will be wedding bells."

"He is not the man to make her happy; he does not urderstand her, and they are not in the least suited to one another."

Haberlin was infuriated by the thought of Una eventually going back to Rex, and threw discretion to the winds.

But for once Molly was dense; 6he was too wrapped up in her own perplexities to pay much attention to the angry young American. After all, she still had her own problems to face, and wanted to be alone.

"I still think you are wrong, but naturally as a friend of Una's you are biased,"' she informed him "But lam ever so grateful for your visit." Haberlin, vaguely feeling himself to be dismissed, rose to go, and said good-bye. Molly gave a sigh of relief when he had disappeeared, and took the lift up to her own rooms.

She had to fight an overwhelming desire to see Rex again, to talk with him for one final time. Yet she knew that if she sent for him her resistance would be at an end; she would no longer be able to fight against her love for him.

She glanced again at that little column in the "Times" containing, in a couple of lines, the tragedy of two lives. Rex had sought the divorce, not she. He had gained what )je> wanted—his freedom —and now he would be able to marry Una, the girl who loved him.

Everything would be all right in the end, except for her. For the second time in her life she was draining the cup of bitterness down to its dregs. And again the same man was the cause of all her misery. She ought to have hated him, yet could not. She glanced around her with distaste. She felt that she loathed this soulless hotel and the indifferent multitudes of London. There was only one thing for her to do, and that was to leave England at the earliest possible moment, before she had time to weaken, and send for Rex.

Her last concert over, there was nothing to keep her in England. Her lips curled in a bitter smile as she again read through the Press cuttings of her final concert: "Miss Curtis seems to have become affected by our sober English climate; in her lighter songs one missed the gaiety and the joie de vivre of her first two concerts. On the other hand, she plumbed depths of tragedy that brought tears to the eyes of even her sophisticated audience."

The critics had not been blind after all; in her art she had betrayed herself, and the mask she wore in public had not been sufficient after all.

She lay down on the long couch under the window and wept bitterly. Presently the telephone bell rang, and she sat up with a sudden, fierce hope. But it was not Rex who answered her; she heard the lisping throaty voice of the director of a well-known concert agency. Yes, she assured him, she would be glad if he could call round to see her about hia proposition. She was quite prepared to make an extended tour of the Continent, and there would be no difficulty about leaving England at once.

'To be continued Saturday next.)