THE LIVING STATUE

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 141, 17 June 1930, Page 18

THE LIVING STATUE

By MARY GRACE ASHTON.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS,

AGNES HUBBARD, a poor young sculptress, who has been fighting hard, in depressing circumstances, to obtain recognition for her work, is introduced by THE HON. MRS. HEATHCOTE'ST. CYR, a society leader, notorious for her desire to be associated with "the latest craze," to COLONEL HARRY MUIR, an elderly and attractive"M.P., whose secretary is ENA LAURENCE, an ambitious aud discontented girl of thirty. Agnes is disappointed with the lack of support from "the Hon. Mrs." and Muir, and becomes very friendly with WILMOT CASTLEMAINE, a famous sculptor, who has a bad reputation with Women. Muir, after not having seen Agnes for two months, invites her to lunch. Muir in surprised to find how welldreused Aghcs is and how prosperous she looks compared with her appearance at tliiilr previous meeting. That afternoon he Hciids his secretary with a note to the nddroHH Agnes had given him. Ena finds licrHOlf in ii charming, fashionable flat. CHAPTER XI. When she got home that night Ena went into the front room and flung herself, heavy, utterly weary, into a chair. Her head ached a little, she was tired and eick, bored to death and hopeless. She would tell Muir about this afternoon. She could not afford to let a thing like that go by. Ho would hate her for telling him, but, ah God, had he not already begun faintly to like, her lose, ever since Agnea had started to maim important to him. Very well, let Jilm hfttb her, wince, incidentally, he WWiUI hftfco Agnes too. M>r. Laurence Witt® 111, looking bleak and plain with Mitt wiiitfht of eomo household worry. "C'oino on now," she said. "You'll — feol better." 9 h ■■ : ■':■;

Ena rose slowly, sat down and began to eat in rebellious silence. Feel better from what? she thought sullenly. From injustice, boredam, disappointment? Who had ever found tripe and onions an antidote for these? Sometimes, ,she thought, her mother must feel consciencestricken, for insisting upon remaining in this house in this suburb, and tried vaguely to reassure herself that all her daughter's looks and moods had no graver cause than tiredness or hunger after the scrappy lunches of the city. Well, it didn't matter what happened. There must be something in the youth of that girl that held Muir, so old himself and ever yearning after youth. He was really beginning to care for her. "I've had some trouble to-day," Mrs. Laurence was complaining. "If you can believe it, Mrs. Muggatt didn't turn up!" "What a nuisance!" Ena went on with her dinner. So far he didn't want to care for her. He was still frightened, cautious, yet he must have got some way to need to feel cautious. Amongst his work, threaded through his various occupations, he thought of her, wondered what she was doing and how she was, and then woke up, suddenly, guilty to what he was thinking of. Oh, it wasn't difficult to sco it 1 He thought of Agnes as beautiful, clever and struggling, that picture of virile activity which fascinates old age. "I spoko to the laundry about your pink set," Mrs. Laurence was saying. "They said they'd look into the matter." Ena nodded. "That's good." .. Yes. Ho looked upon her as his own. Always ho liked to see himself as a bene-

factor, liked to lay up some sense of power, to comfort himself in those moments when, she, his secretary, knew, he felt strangely, miserably weak and unpdwerful. If Agnes cared to play her cards well, if she did something great with her work soon, and if she let him think that it was all owing to him, if she made him feel young, he would succumb. But Agnes would no longer need to run after Muir. She had done well enough, contrived by some amazing craft to secure Castlemaino, whom she doubtless looked upon as the key to the United Arts. She would drop Muir now. But that would only be more alluring. .He worshipped a difficult prey, did Muir. Oh, it was a puzzle to find a way to disentangle these unaccountably converged lives! "I saw Mrs.' James this afternoon," said Mrs. Laurence. "She was saying . ." Ena tried to look sufficiently attentive. As cool as a cucumber that girl had been - this afternoon, smoking Russian cigarettes', comfortably ensconced on Campden Hill with Castlemaine, Wilmot Castlemaine, of all men in the,, world, to come in with his serious', broad face and light eyes and strong wide , figure, to come in like a collector going to the cupboard where he kept his, latest acquisition,.to take it out and pore over it once again. But, of course, she'd pay well for the honour of a place on his shelves! Had not Muir always said that his mania was fragile objects, his kink their destruction ? Miss Agnes Hubbard was fragile enough even for Oastlemaine!• A thin slip of a girl, with one *..—en strand of precarious success to keep her from falling into her place in the obscurity of a normal existence, that and her. own immense determination. "I thought you might get on the steps and just put the be,. l oom.curtr.:.:s up for: me, when you're rested," Mrs. Laurence remarked. "Yes, mother, I Till." Well, it all resolved itself into this: If Muir knew now before any more time was lost that she was a little wanton, and had sold herself to that man for what she could get, that she thought nothing of Muir, he would be bound to have a And, after all, it was true. She didn't care. Had only

wanted him until she could get C' _ > maine. Muir ought to know that. Ena returned to the armchair as her mother went to get the tea. It was horri'jlo to see him trying not to think about her, and at his age, too! Oh, he would hate to be told, but he would not think to question the mation. Drawing deeply at her cigarette, Ena lay back with her face raised. A short, full, not unattractive pn lie, and how often during the course of th. day had he not let his hand rest on hers, not exactly accidentally ? Knowing, damn him, for certain that she would not mind. Even slenderer threads than an/ of Agnes' held her to all that she wanted so much, the difficulty of being important and yet unobtrusive to a sof t-heai ced, rather unhappy, rather clever, oldish man. For a fleeing moment, ?o great was her common sense, so balanced her outlook, she saw herself, more secure, more independent, more at ease than that girl, whom she had seen hurried into the study that night under Mrs. St. Cyr's wing, wrapped in a cloak that probably had not been hers, silent and unassn 1: , i. ..ar wideeyed, and now in a desper te assurance, in clothes no more her own than they ever had beai, and perhaps really caring for Castlemaine, perhaps really hoping that she could hold him. A half ironical softness just stirred in Ena's heart. To be thirty was a tragedy, but to be twenty might be a nightmare. And it was quite unnecessary to wish the poor girl ill; she would so surely find all that without help. Then she hardened completely again. No, that was foolish, don't waste pity on people who live on Campden Hill, who can get notice from men as important as Ci. 'ex'.r.ine, who can afford to neglect Colonel Muir, who live a life, unpleasant, but yet not entirely unenviable. "Shall you go out to-night?" inquired Mrs. Laurence, entevirj wiidi the teapot. Ena got -v and -r.' f-i the window. It was almost dark. She had promised to go over and see Madge Thompson, but could she to-night bear to listen to her talk abou. the- office, :u:u her :„.eight's holiday and the dance at the Town Hall? "No," she answered briefly, then she left

the window and went upstairs to get a book she was .ading. The actual process of letting Muir know she did not find . erj easy. "Did you see Miss Hubbard?" he inquired the next mo. .ing. "Yes, I went there and met her on the door mat. She was very nice." ", A \ I knew she'd be pleased to see you. Did you give her my note?" "Yes, and she sa ! she'd write to you, and I was to thank yon I all that very much." "Ah!" It was truly delightful to keep him waiting, to force him to make the next inquiry, to see him faintly abstracted, wishing she would make haste and supply him with the information lie desired. "Is she happy in her new flat ? Rather sugar box and cretonnes, I suppose?" "I thought distinctly not," Ena said in mild tones. "I was quite surprised." He was. looking' at his desk, at that paper knife made of a tiger's claw, and spoke rather carefully. "She has a little money, of course. That's certain. She never actually told me, but ... ." "She's got a lot now," said Ena, and felt herself leap within to suppress the note of viciousness in her voice, but too late. Before he could say a word she went on, laughing a little. "Poor Miss Hubbard! I entirely sympathise with her! After all it must be a great temptation. He probably promised a good deal. He came in just as I was going . . . ." "Who?" asked Colonel Muir mechanically. "Wilmot Castlemaine." (To be continued daily.)