This House to Let

The “bounder” brother, as Hugh always called him to himself, had drunk very heavily at dinner of every wine: hock, burgundy and champagne. But evidently he could carry a big quantity. It would take more than a small dinner-party like this to knock him over. When he entered the drawing-room his mien was as subdued as when he had first received his visitors.

They drank their coffee round the fair-sized octagonal table, and then they broke up. Miss Burton retired to a Chesterfield, whither Pomfret followed her, as he was bound to do.

Burton bustled out of the room, and returned with a huge box of expensive cigars. He offered the box to Hugh, who took one with a deprecating look at the young hostess.

“We dare not, Miss Burton. Think of your curtains in the morning.”

“Don’t trouble, Captain Murchison,” she said, with her charming smile. “The curtains have to take what comes in this house. George doesn’t often sit in this room, but when he does he always smokes cigars. I told you this was Liberty Hall, you know.”

The box was offered to Pomfret, who took one. “Do you smoke, Miss Burton?” he asked.

“Once in a blue moon. I think I will have one to-night, as a little treat. It is terribly tempting, when I see all you men smoking.” The enamoured Pomfret fetched her a cigarette, hovered over her with a match, till it was properly lighted, and settled himself again on the Chesterfield. If that silly old Hugh didn’t butt in, he was going to have a nice little chat with this charming girl, who had played the young hostess to such perfection.

But Hugh was safely out of the way. Burton had piloted him to a comfortable easy-chair at the extreme end of the drawing-room, and these two antipathetic persons were apparently engaged in an interesting conversation. Anyway, Murchison’s laugh rang out frequently.

Pomfret, it must be confessed, was not very great at conversation. If the ball were opened, he could set it rolling, but he lacked initiative. He looked at Miss Burton with admiring eyes, but although he had got her comfortably to himself on that convenient Chesterfield, he could think of nothing to say to her.

And then a brilliant inspiration came to him. “I say, how gracefully you smoke.” The young woman burst into a pleasant peal of quite spontaneous laughter. She always had a ready smile at command, but her laughter was generally a little forced. This time it was perfectly genuine.

“Oh, you are really comical,” she cried. “How can any girl smoke a cigarette gracefully? In the first place, it is a most unfeminine thing to do. All people must smoke them in the same way, and there can never be anything graceful in the act.”

“Women don’t smoke them the same way,” replied the young subaltern, with the air of a man who has observed and learned. “Most of them chew them, and hold them at arm’s length, as if they were afraid of being bitten.”

“It’s because they don’t like smoking, really, and only do it to be in the fashion. Now, when I am quite in the mood, I actually revel in a cigarette. I am in the mood to-night.”

Pomfret leaned forward, with a tender expression on his rather homely, but good-humoured, countenance.

“That means that you feel happy to-night, eh?”

She nodded brightly. “Oh, ever so happy! It is seeing new faces, you know, after weeks of isolation,” she added with a touch of almost girlish gaiety. “It seems such ages since we gave a dinner-party. And you and Captain Murchison are so nice. It seems almost like a family gathering.”

“You like my friend Murchison, then? I am glad, because it is to him I owe the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

“I think he is a dear, he seems so honest, straightforward, and so reliable.” She spoke with apparent conviction. “Were you not dreadfully shocked when he told you, for of course he must have told you, how we got to know each other?”

“Not in the least,” said Mr Pomfret stoutly. “I explained to him that people can become acquainted, without being properly introduced in the conventional sort of way.”

“Ah, then, he had some doubts himself?” flashed Miss Burton. “I expect he was a little shocked, if you were not.”

“Not in the slightest, I assure you,” replied Mr Pomfret easily. He was not above telling a white lie upon occasions. He remembered too well the remarks that his friend had made upon the girl’s unconventional behaviour, but he was not going to admit anything.

Miss Burton spoke softly, after a brief pause.

“You and Captain Murchison are very great friends, are you not?”

“Awful pals,” was the genuine response. “You see, he knows all my family. And when I joined the regiment, they deputed him to look after me. He has got a hard task,” he added with a laugh.

“Oh, not so very hard really, I am sure of that.” Norah’s voice was very sweet, very caressing. “But you and your friend are of very different temperaments.”

“In what way?”

She smiled. “Oh, in half a hundred ways. Captain Murchison is as true as steel, but also as hard as steel. You, now, are not in the least hard. You are very kind and compassionate, you think the best of everybody.”

“Don’t flatter me too much, please,” interjected the bashful Pomfret.

“Oh, pardon me, I know just the kind of man you are.” The sweet face was very close to his own, the beautiful, rather sad eyes were looking steadily into his. “You are a rich man, or you would not be in this expensive regiment. But, if you were a poor man, and you had only ten pounds in your pocket, you would lend an impecunious friend five of them, and not trouble whether he repaid you or not.”

“I think you have fitted me, Miss Burton. My dear old chum Hugh is never tired of telling me I am an awful ass.”

“You are both right, really,” answered Miss Burton.

“You see, we look at life from two different standpoints.”

“I fancy you come from two different classes?” queried the charming young woman.

Pomfret felt a little embarrassed. He did not want to give away his particular chum. But there were no doubt certain inherited commercial instincts in Hugh that sometimes offended the descendant of a more careless and aristocratic family.

“You see, Hugh has come from the trading class, originally. His ancestors, no doubt, were close-fisted people. Hugh is not close-fisted himself: he is, in a certain way, the soul of generosity, but sometimes the old Adam peeps out in little things.”

He had a swift pang of remorse when he had said this. For he suddenly remembered Hugh’s generous offer of the two hundred which Pomfret, by a very diplomatic letter, was going to cajole out of the octogenarian great-aunt.

“Believe me,” added he fervently, “Hugh is one of the best. He is a little peculiar sometimes in small things. I ought not to have spoken as I have done. I am more than sorry if I have conveyed a wrong impression of him.”

“But you have not,” cried Norah Burton swiftly. “He would be hard in some things: I am sure – for instance – he would never forgive a really dishonourable action, even in the case of his best friend.”

“No, I am sure he would not,” assented Pomfret. “But I don’t fancy he has been much tried that way. We don’t get many ‘rotters’ amongst our lot.”

“Noblesse oblige,” quoted Miss Burton, lightly. Then she added more seriously: “And I am sure he is very kind-hearted and thoughtful. I was impressed with his reluctance to smoke because of the curtains. Of course, he did not remember that it did not matter in the least, as we never have callers.”

She was getting on the theme of their social isolation, but Pomfret was sure that, unlike her brother, strangely subdued to-night from his usual boisterousness, she would handle the subject with her customary tact and good taste.

“Ah, of course, all that is very regrettable. It is not so much your loss, as the loss of Blankfield. I suppose you won’t stay very long here.”

For a moment there came a blazing light in the soft, beautiful eyes. “A few days ago, I advised my brother to pack up and clear out. The snobbish plutocracy of Blankfield had beaten us, made up of retired shopkeepers and merchants. To-night, with you and Captain Murchison as our guests, I think we have beaten Blankfield with its fat mothers and plain daughters.”

She looked superb, as she drew her slender form up to its full height, the glow of indignant triumph blazing on her cheek. At the moment she was extremely beautiful. If Pomfret had been attracted before, he was infatuated now.

“I will help you to beat the Blankfield people, for whom I don’t care a row of pins. I will come, whenever you want me.”

“And your friend Captain Murchison, will he come, too?”

Pomfret smiled whimsically. “Oh yes, he will come, if I make a point of it. Old Hugh thinks he leads me, but I really lead him.” She leaned forward eagerly. “Can you bring some of your brother officers, Mr Pomfret? Please don’t think I am bold and forward and presumptuous. But I do long to be even with these Blankfield people. I would love to make a little sort of salon of my own. I know it is useless to expect the women at present, but they might come in time. Mind you, I don’t want them.”

“I will try,” said Pomfret slowly. “I think I may say that Hugh and I are the two most popular men in the regiment; I say it without vanity. And I don’t suppose we care a snap of the fingers about the Blankfield people. Still, I don’t want to raise hopes that may never be fulfilled. I can only say, I will try.” There was a pause. Then she spoke, and there was a far-away look in her eyes. “You hesitate, I see. Oh, I quite believe you when you say you will try. But there is some stumbling-block in the way, isn’t there?” Pomfret had perforce to dissemble. “There is no stumbling-block that I know of, except running the risk of offending Blankfield. That is not a great one, as we shall be out of here in about two months.”

She leaned closer to him, and her voice sank to a whisper. “There is a stumbling-block, I know. You are too kind and generous to state what it is, you could not, as to-night he is your host. It is my brother.”

And then poor, infatuated Pomfret sought no further refuge in subterfuge. He blurted out the truth. “Some of our chaps wouldn’t stand him, you know,” he said simply.