The Streets of Ascalon

"If you maltreat that horse again, Langly, I'll leave you. Do you understand?" she said, exasperated.

"I beg your pardon – " Again his jaw fairly snapped, but the horse did not suffer from his displeasure.

"What has enraged you so?" she demanded.

"This whole business. There isn't anything my aunt could have done more vicious, more contemptible, than to visit Mrs. Ledwith at this moment. I'll get it from every quarter, now."

"I suppose she will, too."

"My aunt? No such luck!"

"I mean Mrs. Ledwith."

"She? Oh, I suppose so."

Strelsa said between tightening lips:

"Is there nothing you can do, no kindness, no sacrifice you can make to shield Mrs. Ledwith?"

He stared at her, then his eyes roamed restlessly:

"How?"

"I don't know, Langly… But if there is anything you could do – "

"What? My aunt and the papers are determined that I shall marry her! I take it that you are not suggesting that, are you?"

"I am suggesting nothing," she replied in a low voice.

"Well, I am. I'm suggesting that you and Molly and I go aboard the Yulan and clear out to-night!"

"You mean – to announce our engagement first?"

"Just as you choose," he said without a shade of expression on his features.

"You would scarcely propose that I sail with you under any other circumstances," she said sharply.

"I leave it to you and Mrs. Wycherly. The main idea is to clear out and let them howl and tear things up."

"Howl at Mrs. Ledwith and tear her to tatters while we start around the world on the Yulan?" nodded Strelsa. She was rather white, but she laughed; and he, hearing her, turned and laughed, too – a quick bark of a laugh that startled both horses who were unaccustomed to it.

"Oh, I guess they won't put her out of business," he said. "She's young and handsome and there are plenty of her sort to marry her – even Dankmere would have a chance there or – " he hesitated, and decided to refrain. But she understood perfectly, and lost the remainder of her colour.

"You mean Mr. Quarren," she said coolly.

"I didn't," he replied, lying. And she was aware of his falsehood, too.

"What started those rumours about Mrs. Ledwith and you, Langly?" she asked in the same pleasantly even tone, and turned her horse's head toward home at the same time. He made his mount pivot showily on his hocks and drew bridle beside her.

"Oh, they started at Newport."

"How?"

"How do I know? Ledwith and I were connected in business matters; I saw more or less of them both – and he was too busy to be with his wife every time I happened to be with her. So – you know what they said."

"Yes. When you and she were lunching at different tables at the Santa Regina you used to write notes to her, and everybody saw you."

"What of it?"

"Nothing."

"That is just it; there was nothing in it."

"Except her reputation… What a silly and careless girl! But a man doesn't think – doesn't care very much I fancy. And then everybody was offensively sorry for Chester Ledwith. But that was not your lookout, was it, Langly?"

Sprowl turned his narrow face and looked at her in silence; and after a moment misjudged her.

"It was not my fault," he said quietly. "I liked his wife and I was friendly with him until his gutter habits annoyed me."

"He went to pieces, didn't he?"

Once more Sprowl inspected her features, warily. Once more he misjudged her.

"He's gone to smash," he said – "but what's that to us?"

"I wonder," she smiled, but had to control the tremor of her lower lip by catching it between her teeth and looking away from the man beside her. Quickly the hint of tears dried out in her gray eyes – from whatever cause they sprang glimmering there to dim her eyesight. She bent her head, absently arranging, rearranging and shifting her bridle.

"The thing to do," he said, curling his long moustache with powerful fingers – "is for the Wycherlys to stand by us now – and the others there – that little Lacy girl – and Sir Charles if he chooses. We'll have to take the whole lot of them aboard I suppose."

"Suppose I go with you alone," she said in a low voice.

He started in his saddle, turned on her a face that was reddening heavily. For an instant she scarcely recognised him, so thick his lips seemed, so congested the veins in forehead and neck. He seemed all mouth and eyes and sanguine colour – and big, even teeth, now, as the lips drew aside disclosing them.

"Would you do that, Strelsa?"

"Why not?"

"Would you do it – for me?"

Her rapid breathing impeded speech; she said something inarticulate; he leaned from his saddle and caught her in his left arm.

"By God," he stammered, "I knew it! You can have what you like from me – I don't care what it is! – take it – fill out your own checks – only let's get out of here before those damned women ruin us both!"

She had strained back and aside from him, and was trying to guide her mare away, but his powerful arm crushed her and his hot breath fell on her face and neck.

"You can have it your own way I tell you – I swear to God I'll marry you – "

"What!"