IF TO-DAY BE SWEET

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17878, 21 June 1926, Page 16

IF TO-DAY BE SWEET

“ STAR’S " NEW SERIAL

By

DOROTHY ROGERS.

CHAPTER lll—(Continued.) At the top of the steep hill they had turned into what was called the village square. The word, however, was a misnomer, for the enclosure formed by the cottages was practically triangular in shape. In the centre several great trees spread their denuded branches over the green about which, in all the beautiful irregularity of reel's and chimneys, walls and windowlevels, were cottages resting snugly behind microscopic patches of garden. Sopie of them, built on a slightly lower level than the green, were approached not by a garden, but by a downward step or two. In the soft dusk which was now falling lights had begun to show in many of the windows, and in the spreading haze of mist and smoke these glowing windows, gave the little square a very warm and homely appearance. What helped to deepen her annoyance was the fact that she was unable to show it. Nothing -would have induced her to let him know that she was aware of what had happened, and it was exceedingl}' difficult to disguise her resentment. Even had she allowed herself to show her feelings she was convinced that he would have entirely failed to see her point of view. Wherein she was wrong, for Paul was quick to see another person’s point of view when it was explained to him. While thinking nothing of the incident himself, he would have realised in a flash how Gentian must have felt, and would most sincerely have regretted hurting her. However, this she did not know. She endeavoured to shake the whole thing out of her mind, but it returned with aggravating persistency. Once more, as on the occasion of their first meeting, she asked herself why Paul’s behaviour should affect her at all. She had no illusions about him. It was impossible therefore that she could be disappointed in him. Only that very afternoon, after the episode of the churchyard, had she told herself that, penitent as he was, he would be just as irritating again on the first provocation. He had merely' fulfilled her mental prognostication. But this thing mattered more, in a way, than the other. Yet why should it? Now if Derek . . . but her mind crushed that idea almost before it was formed. With a warm sense of contentment she thought bow impossible it was even to imagine Derek behaving as Paul Farrant had done. She felt a swift thankfulness that her fiance was so totally different to this man at her side. She knew she could depend upon Derek. The only incomprehensible thing about him was his' friendship for one who was in most ways such an utterly unsatisfactory character. Even if Paul had certain good qualities they, did not appear sufficient to warrant the friendship of such a man as Derek Hew ling. She told herself that at least he would never have her own ! Paul made a few casual remarks to which she replied as casually. lie noticed her quietness as they slid swiftly homeward along the dark and lonely country roads, but thought the keen air might have made her a little sleepy, or thta she was absorbed in her own thoughts. It certainly never occurred to him that .she was offended with him. The incident of Ada and the kiss had gone so completely from his mind that even had he known of her mood he would never have attributed it to that. And his own mood made him content to be silent. This girl had a singularly quieting influence over him. Something about her seemed to dispel the boredom that clouded him almost incessantly. In addition to her physical charm, which in itself weighed tremendously with Paul, there was something in her personality that attracted him a* he felt he had never quite been attracted before. While too sceptical, through much previous experience, to be sure that her influence would be lasting, he felt, nevertheless, a great desire that it should last. It was something entirely new in his life, and for once he did not quite know what to make of it. Long after he had dropped Gentian at her own door, receiving, with a keen puzzled glance from under that raised eyebrow of his, her reservedly polite thanks, he continued to think of her. She mystified him by her unaccountable elusiveness. Had she been invariably cold and reserved, her aloofness would very soon have fatigued and bored him; had she shown him nothing but frinedly sweetness it is more than, possible that the same result would have developed. As it was, all uncon-

sciously, she tantalised him exceeding-, ly. Deeper and deeper became his determination to win her interest, and when Paul Farrant determined to make himself liked he could be very difficult to resist. The strange mixture that he was, of simple frankness and complexity, stimulated a woman’s curiosity and aroused her vanity. For woman is vain in many ways. One form of vanity leads her to attract a man by physical allure, another to astound him by her mental powers, and still another makes her seek to be a sort of lodestar by which he may flounder from unpleasant depths to something higher and purer—not too near her own altitude, for then all need of her as a lodestar would have ceased: free from the stain yet, as it were, still breathing of the earth. So would she have a man. And nobody understood this better than Paul himself. He also knew instinctively into which category to place any woman he met. But in spite of all his faults (perhaps it would be better to use the word vices) he was impulsively drawn towards goodiiess. Whether this was because of some hidden quality within himself, or merely because it fell into line with his love of beauty, who shall say? Moreover, its influence was uncertain, depending much on environment and the nature of counter attractions, more still upon his fluctuating mood. At all events, it was this instinct which drew him subtly to Gentian and as he drove home that evening his mind was entirely preoccupied with her attractive personality. He determined to see much of her, making the most of every opportunity to develop this new acquaintanceship. But in that he reckoned not only without Gentian, but. also-—strangely enough—without himself. CHAPTER IV. During the next few days Paul began to be the prey- of unbearable restlessness. With him it. was no new complaint. llis mother was accustomed to these occasional moods and was always apprehensive. They inevitably

ended in his sudden departure for a while to London, Paris, who knew where? After a time of anxiety, during which he never wrote to her, he would return one day quite unexpectedly looking rather grey, very listless and fatigued, and with no word of his doings, to pick up the loose ends of his j daily life in the country. I But this time Paul’s restlessness was accompanied by a new’ symptom—he became exceedingly irritable. This 1 was absolutely unprecedented, for he i had inherited his mother’s sweetness |of temper which nothing, as a rule, I ruffled fpr very long. The Shadow became more apparent in Mrs Farrant’s eyes as she watched him idly wandering about, a deep furrow between his brows, impatiently taking up and dropping a dozen occupations in an hour, and eternally smoking cigarette after cigarette. Once when she had made tentative efforts to find out what was the matter with him he had turned on her almost angrily. “ What was there for a man to do in this God-forsaken hole?” he had demanded. Afterwards he had apologised to her very tenderly for the little outburst of temper, but again she had asked herself whether she was right in inducing him to stay for the sake of keeping up the estate. . Yet he was the last of his race, and if ever he married. . . . She sighed a I little drearily, and fell once more to | wondering what was the matter with I him.

Truth to tell, Paul knew’ no more than she. He was aware that everything wearied him, yet he had no particular desire to break away from his surroundings. More than once his mind travelled over old haunts in every quarter of the globe, but never with any wish to re-visit them, and he returned as distastefully to the contemplation of his present life at home. The gay Linda rang him up several times with a pretty command to go to see her. Once only did he obey, and on that occasion he treated her with such indifference and seemed so wearily unattracted by all her alluring ways, that she was furious and for a while made no further efforts to see him. One afternoon he called at Willowbank, but both Mrs Armishaw and Gentian were out, and the children having gone home there was no excuse for him to stay for the amusement of a mousmee and a Red Indian. He did not go again, neither did he drop ih upon Derek Hewling. A cloud of depression came over him, and, as .was his habit, he ran awaj’ from it. After two or three days during which between a spell of bad- weather and his own restless moodiness, he scarcely left the house, the usual end came. Paul packed, a suitcase and departed

Quite unknown to him, Gentian wa: also in London.

Hewling had had to go for the purpose of research work in connection with his book, and he had suggested that his mother and Gentian should accompany him and spend a week there. Both were delighted with the plan; arrangements were quickly made and the three went off together.

Major Hewling, who went to the station with them, declared that nothing would induce him to go to any foggy city when he could remain in healthy country air. He was a well-set-up mail with white hair and a moustache that should have been white but was singed to a tawny hue by countless cigarettes. A slight nervous twitch of the head caused his deft eye to close at intervals in an involuntary wink.,. a wink which pointed the most innocent speech in a way that was occasionally startling. Mrs Hewling was pretty in a soft helpless way. Her hair was light brown and very fluffy, showing no signs of grey; her eyes, however, were of that peculiar steely hue which gives an expression of coldness even at their softest. She had a little pout and a habit of leaving everything to others as if they were so much older and wiser and more competent than she. A habit, by the way, as flatteringly attractive to men as it was irritating to other women, for what woman likes to be older and wiser and more competent as a foil for the dainty irresponsibilities of another of her own sex? Moreover, Mrs Hewling even treated her own son as if he were the grown-tj.p and she the child—a winning incapable child who must be humoured and excused. She laughed gaily at her own stupidity ” in the midst of the big serious-minded elders. “ I always was a duffer you know,” she would say, “ I haven’t any brains. Ask John! But people are so sweet, they never seem to mind! ” And with that she would look up with her little helpless smile to receive the invariable indulgent and flattering reply. Her husband and son fostered this bv their attitude towards her and Gentian, of whom Mrs Hewling was sincerely fond, found in her a real goodness of heart beneath her superficialities. One charming trait she had was her frank and unspoilt pleasure in everything, and although she quite frequently spent a few days in London it never failed to delight her. The primary motive for this particular visit being Derek Hewling’s research work, he was obliged to leave his mother and Gentian a great deal by themselves. Both were quite happy, however, shopping and spending much time in simply watching people and things. Derek joined them fur lunch and took them out each evening to dinner and a theatre or concert, when his whole diversion seemed to consist in watching their enjoyment of everything they saw or did. Gentian was no uninterested girl, surfeited with pleasure, and when she entered a restaurant, her small dark heati delicately tilted back, her amaz ing blue eyes sparkling with animation, many women as well as men turned to watch her vivid face. (To be Continued.)