The Business of Life

"She hasn't said a word yet. I've done nothing but talk and she's done nothing but listen. It knocked me galley west, too. But it happened before I realised it. She was playing on the piano, and suddenly I knew that I wanted to marry her. And I said 'You darling!' And she grew white and began to cry."

"Did you ask her to marry you?"

"About a thousand times."

"Didn't she say anything?"

"Not a word."

"That's odd," said Desboro, troubled.

A few minutes later the clock struck.

"Come on, anyway," he said, "we've scarcely time to dress."

In his room later, tying his tie, Cairns' uncertainty clouded his own happiness a little; and when he emerged to wait in the sitting-room for Jacqueline, he was still worrying over it.

When Jacqueline opened her door and saw his perplexed and anxious face, she came forward in her pretty dinner gown, startled, wondering.

"What is it, Jim?" she asked, her heart, still sensitive from the old, healed wounds, sinking again in spite of her.

"I'm worried about that girl – "

"What girl!"

"Cynthia – "

"Oh! That! Jim, you frightened me!" She laid one hand on her heart for a moment, breathed deeply her relief, then looked at him and laughed.

"Silly! Of course she loves him."

"Jack says that she didn't utter a word – "

"She uttered several to me. Rather foolish ones, Jim – about her life's business – the stage – and love. As though love and the business of life were incompatible! Anyway, she'd choose him."

"Is she going to accept him?"

"Of course she is. I – I don't mean it in criticism – and I love Cynthia – but I think she is a trifle temperamental – as well as being the dearest, sweetest girl in the world – "

She took his arm with a pretty confidence of ownership that secretly thrilled him, and they went down stairs together, she talking all the while.

"Didn't I tell you?" she whispered, as they caught a glimpse of the library in passing, where Cairns stood holding Cynthia's hands between his own and kissing them. "Wait, Jim, darling! You mustn't interrupt them – "

"I'm going to!" he said, exasperated. "I want to know what they're going to do – "

"Jim!"

"Oh, all right, dear. Only they gave me a good scare when I wanted to be alone with you."

She pressed his arm slightly:

"You haven't noticed my gown."

"It's a dream!" He kissed her shoulder lace, and she flushed and caught his arm, then laughed, disconcerted by her own shyness.

Farris presented himself with a tray of cocktails.

"Jack! Come on!" called Desboro; and, as that gentleman sauntered into view with Cynthia on his arm, something in the girl's delicious and abashed beauty convinced her host. He stretched out his hand; she took it, looking at him out of confused but sincere eyes.

"Is it all right to wish you happiness, Cynthia?"

"It is quite all right – thank you."

"And to drink this H. P. W. to your health and happiness?"

"That," she said laughingly, "is far more serious. But – you may do so, please."

The ceremony ended, Desboro said to Jacqueline, deprecatingly:

"This promises to be a jolly, but a rather noisy, dinner. Do you mind?"

And it was both – an exceedingly jolly and unusually noisy dinner for four. Jacqueline and Cynthia both consented to taste the champagne in honour of this occasion only; then set aside their glasses, inflexible in their prejudice. Which boded well for everybody concerned, especially to two young men to whom any countenance of that sort might ultimately have proved no kindness.

And Jacqueline was as wise as she was beautiful; and Cynthia's intuition matched her youthful loveliness, making logic superfluous.

Feeling desperately frivolous after coffee, they lugged out an old-time card table and played an old-time game of cards – piquet – gambling so recklessly that Desboro lost several cents to Cairns before the evening was over, and Jacqueline felt that she had been dreadfully and rather delightfully imprudent.

Then midnight sounded from the distant stable clock, and every timepiece in the house echoed the far Westminster chimes.

Good-nights were said; Jacqueline went away with Cynthia to the latter's room; Desboro accompanied Cairns, and endured the latter's rhapsodies as long as he could, ultimately escaping.

In their sitting-room Jacqueline was standing beside the bowl of white carnations, looking down at them. When he entered she did not raise her head until he took her into his arms. Then she looked up into his eyes and lifted her face. And for the first time her warm lips responded to his kiss.

She trembled a little as he held her, and laid her cheek against his breast, both hands resting on his shoulders. After a while he was aware that her heart was beating as though she were frightened.

"Dearest," he whispered.

There was no answer.

"Dearest?"

He could feel her trembling.

After a long while he said, very gently: "Come back and say good-night to me when you are ready, dear." And quietly released her.

And she went away slowly to her room, not looking at him. And did not return.

So at one o'clock he turned off the lights and went into his own room. It was bright with moonlight. On his dresser lay a white carnation and a key. But he did not see them.