Mrs. Maxon Protests Part 30

"Probably--with the happy result of reducing, _pro tanto_, the practical importance of the subject, without depriving it of its speculative interest," laughed Stephen. "Love, union, parentage, partners.h.i.+p--it's good to have them all, but, as life goes on, a lot of people manage with the last two--or even with only the last. It grows into a pretty strong tie. Well, Winnie, you seem to have come through fairly well, and I hope you won't have much more trouble over the business."

"I shan't have any, to speak of. I've put it all in Hobart Gaynor's hands. I went to see him and told him all he wanted to know. He's taken charge of the whole thing; I really need hear no more about it. He was awfully kind--just his dear old self." She smiled. "Well, short of asking me to his house, you know."

"Oh, that's his wife," said Tora.

"Mrs. Gaynor seems to live up to her theories, at any rate," chuckled Stephen.

"It's not so difficult to live up to your theories about other people.

It's about yourself," said Winnie.

"I think your going to Mrs. Lenoir's is such a perfect arrangement."

Tora characteristically ignored the large body of opinion which would certainly be against her on the question.

"I'm very happy there--she's so kind. And I seem quite a fixture. I've been there nearly two months, and now she says I'm to go abroad with her in the spring." She paused for a moment. "The General's very kind too.

In fact I think he likes me very much."

"Who's the General? I don't know about him."

Winnie explained sufficiently, and added, "Of course he thinks I'm just Miss Wilson. Mrs. Lenoir says it's all right, but I can't feel it's quite straight."

"As he appears to be nearly seventy, and Mrs. Lenoir's friend, if anybody's----" Stephen suggested.

Winnie smiled and blushed a little. "Well, you see, the truth is that it's not only the General. He's got a son. Well, he's got three, but one of them turned up about a fortnight ago."

"Oh, did he? Where from?"

"From abroad--on long leave. It's the eldest--the Major."

"Does he like you very much too, Winnie?"

Winnie looked across the lawn. "It seems just conceivable that he might--complicate matters," she murmured. "I haven't spoken to Mrs.

Lenoir about that--aspect of it."

Stephen was swift on the scent of another problem. "Oh, and you mean, if he did--well, show signs--how much ought he to be told about Miss Wilson?"

"Yes. And perhaps even before the signs were what you'd call very noticeable. Wouldn't it be fair? Because he doesn't seem to me at all a--a theoretical kind of person. I should think his ideas are what you might call----"

"Shall we say traditional--so as to be quite impartial towards the Major?"

"Yes. And especially about women, I should think."

Stephen looked across at his wife, smiling. "Well, Tora?"

Without hesitation Tora gave her verdict. "If you'd done things that you yourself knew or thought to be disgraceful, you ought to tell him before he grows fond of you. But you're not bound to tell him what you've done, on the chance of his thinking it disgraceful, when you don't."

"I expect it's more than a chance," Winnie murmured.

"I'm groping after Tora's point. I haven't quite got it. From the Major's point of view, in the hypothetical circ.u.mstances we're discussing, what's of importance is not what Winnie thinks, but what he does."

"What's important to the Major," Tora replied, "is that he should fall in love with a good woman. Good women may do what the Major thinks disgraceful, but they don't do what they themselves think disgraceful.

Or, if they ever do, they repent and confess honestly."

"Oh, she's got an argument! She always has. Still, could a good woman let herself be fallen in love with under something like false pretences?"

"There will be no false pretences, Stephen. She will be--she practically is--an unmarried woman, and, if she married him, she'd marry him as such. The rest is all over."

"It may be atavistic--relics of my public school and so on--but it doesn't seem to me quite the fair thing," Stephen persisted; "to keep him in the dark about our young friend, Miss Wilson, I mean."

"I think I agree with you, Stephen." Winnie smiled. "If he does show signs, that's to say!"

"Oh, only if he shows signs, of course. Otherwise, it's in no way his business."

"Because, whatever his rights may be, why should I risk making him unhappy? Besides, in a certain event, he might find out, when it was--from his point of view--too late."

Stephen laughed. "At least admit, Tora, that from a merely practical point of view, there's something to be said for telling people things that they may find out for themselves at an uncomfortably late hour."

"Oh, I thought we were trying to get a true view of a man's--or a woman's--rights in such a case," said Tora, with lofty scorn. "But it seems I'm in a minority."

"You wouldn't be happy if you weren't, my dear. It's getting dusk, and here comes d.i.c.k back. Let's go in to tea."

d.i.c.k Dennehy often grew hot in argument, but his vexation never lasted long. Over tea he was in great spirits, and talked eagerly about a new prospect which had opened before him. The post he held as correspondent was a poor affair, ill-paid and leading to nothing. He had the chance of being appointed a leader-writer on a London daily paper--a post offering a great advance both in pay and in position. The only possible difficulty arose from his religious convictions; they might, on occasion, clash with the policy of the paper, in matters concerning education for instance.

"But they're good enough to say they think so well of me in every other way that the little matter may probably admit of adjustment."

"Now don't you go back on your theories--or really where are we?" said Stephen chaffingly.

"I won't do that; I won't do that. I should be relieved of dealing with those questions. And, Stephen, my boy, I'd have a chance of a decent place to live in and of being able to put by my old age pension."

They all entered eagerly into the discussion of these rosy dreams, and it was carried, _nem. con._, that d.i.c.k must build himself a 'week-end'

cottage at Nether End, as near as might be to Shaylor's Patch. Perhaps Winnie could find one to suit her too!

"And we'll all sit and jaw till the curtain falls!" cried Stephen Aikenhead, expressing his idea of a happy life.

"Ye're good friends here, for all your nonsense," said Dennehy. "I'd ask no better."

"Moreover, d.i.c.k, you can marry. You can tie yourself up, as Tora puts it, just as tightly as you like. Choose a woman, if possible, with some breadth of view. I want you to have your chance."

"Oh, I'm not likely to be marrying." A cloud seemed to pa.s.s over his cheery face. But it was gone in a moment. "Well, who'd look at me, anyhow?"

"I think you'd make an excellent husband, d.i.c.k," said Winnie. "I should marry you--yes, even tie you up--with the utmost confidence."

He gave her a queer look, half-humorous, half-resentful. "Don't be saying such things, Winnie, or ye'll turn my head and destroy my peace of mind."

"Oh, last time I flirted with you, you said you liked it!" she reminded him, laughing.

On the way to the station, Winnie walked with her arm through his, for the evening had fallen dark, and the country road was rough. With a little pressure of her hand, she said, "I'm so glad--so glad--of the new prospects, d.i.c.k. I believe in you, you know, though we do differ so much."

He was silent for a moment, and then asked abruptly, "And what prospects have you?"