The Garden Party and Other Stories

it if her father — well, whatever her father chose to do he’d perfectly understand. In fact, nothing short of desperation, nothing short of the fact that this was positively his last day in

d, turning up his soft collar and turning it down over the tie. He expected her to say somethi

even boast of top-hole health, for the East Africa business had knocked him out so thoroughly that he’d had to take six months’ leave. He was still fearfully pale — worse even than usual this afternoon, he thought, bending forward and peering into the mirror. Good heavens! What had happened? His hair looked almost bright green. Dash it all, he hadn’t green hair at all events. That was a bit too steep. And then the gre

t he couldn’t help hoping. Well, was it hope? Or was this queer, timid longing to have the chance of looking after her, of making it his job to see that she had everything she wanted, and that nothing came near her that wasn’t perfect — just love? How he loved her! He squeezed hard against the chest of drawers and murmured to it, “I love her, I love her!” And just for the moment he was with her on the way to Umtali. It was night. She sat in a corner asleep. Her soft chin was tucked into her soft collar, her gold-brown lashes lay on her cheeks. He doted on h

en moments, many of them, in Reggie’s life, before Uncle Alick died and left him the fruit farm, when he was convinced that to be a widow’s only son was about the worst punishment a chap could have. And what made it rougher than ever was that she was positively all that he had. She wasn’t only a combined parent, as it were, but she had quarrelled with all

to snap the head of a dead something or

t, Reginald?” she ask

said Reggie weakly, plunging hi

a head. Reggi

uld have spared your mother y

and glossy she looked like a lump of half-melted toffee. But Chinny’s porcelain eyes gloomed at Reginald, and he sniffed faintl

ng, if your mother may

, his elbow jogged the syringa bushes, and petals and pollen scattered over his coat sleeve. But wait a bit. This was too quick altogether. He’d meant to think the whole thing out again. Here, steady. But he was walking up the path, with the huge rose bushes on either side. It can’t be done like this. But his hand had grasped the bell, given it a pull, and started it pealing wildly, as if he’d come to say the house was on fire. The housemaid must have been in the hall, too, for the front door flashed open, and Reggie was shut in the empty drawing-room before that confounded bell had stopped ringing. Strangely enough, when it did, the big room, shadowy, with some one’s parasol lying on top o

ket buttons, and stammered out, “As a matter

ped back from him and her grey eye

long, soft peal, and walked away from him over to the piano,

bad ha — habit.” And suddenly she stamped her grey shoe, and took a pocket-handkerchie

ie, “I love to hear you laughing

ished to God he understood, Anne had laughed at him. Why? It didn’t matter where they were or what they were talking about. They might begin by being as serious as possible, dead serious — at any rate, as

d seen her turn away, frown, suck in her cheeks, press her hands together. But it was no use. The l

ed the handk

you. I’ll have one too.” He lighted a match for her, and as she bent forward he saw the tiny

he blew a little fan of smoke. Why on earth wa

htfully hard to b

ow beautiful she looked like that!— simply beautiful — and she was so small in that immense chair. Reginald’s heart swelled

his cigarette. “It’s ghastly, t

o-coo,” sounded

lace. “Father was saying only the other night how lucky he thought you were to have a life of your own.”

again. And Anne murmured

arette savagely on the green ash-tray. “I could stand any amount of it, used to l

o-coo! Roo-

ves,” she said. “They’ve been moved to the side

ned the French window for her and stood to one side

front, she’s Mrs. Dove. She looks at Mr. Dove and gives that little laugh and runs forward, and he follows her, bowing and bowing. And that makes her laugh again. Away she runs, and after her,” cried Anne, and she sat back on her heels, “comes poor Mr. Dove, bowing and

e grains of maize on her palm with one finger. Then slowly she shut her hand, and the new world faded as she murmured slowly, “No, never in that way.” But he had scarcely time to feel anything before she walked quickly away, and he followed her down the steps, along the garden path, under the pink rose arches, across the lawn. There, with the gay herbaceous border behind her, Anne faced Reginald. “It isn’t that I’m not awfully fond of you,

ickly. “How could there be? And I do believe I know why I make you laugh. It’s because you’re

one of those things. You don’t know me. I’m the most awful character,” said Anne. “Please don’t interrupt. And besides, that’s not the point. The point is”— she shook her head —“I couldn’t possibly m

the kind of man that Anne and he had seen often at the theatre, walking on to the stage from nowhere, without a

vision. “Yes, I se

explain. You know I’ve never —” She stopped. Reggie looked at her. She was smiling. “Isn’t it f

never felt so happy with any one. But I’m sure it’s not what people and what books mean when they talk about l

e, with the dark ilex-tree beside it. A wet, blue thumb of transparent smoke hung above the chimney. It didn’t look real. How his throat ached! Could he speak? He had a shot. “I must be getting along home,” he croak

himself a shake. “I’ll . . . I’ll —” And he

nds and stood in front of him. “Surely you do see

id Reggie, looking at

an, it’s all very well for Mr. and Mrs. Dove.

stopped him. She tugged at his sleeve, and to his astonishment, this time

ununhappy?” she wailed. “Why do you mind

away. “I can’t help it,” he said, “I’ve had

as crimson. “How can you be so cruel? I can’t let you go until I know for certain that you are jus

simple to Reginald. It se

ll that way away, with only that awful mother to write t

off his sleeve and kissed it. “Don’t pity me, dear little Anne,” he said gen

o!” sounded from the veranda. “R

en she saw his timid, puzzled

id Anne. And Reginald cam