* Ft Utti
 
 8974
 
 
 WANDERING FIRES
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 TEMPERAMENT 
 
 THE HOLIDAY HUSBAND 
 
 THE STORY OF EDEN 
 
 CAPTAIN AMYAS 
 
 As YE HAVE SOWN 
 
 MAFOOTA 
 
 ROSE-WHITE YOUTH 
 
 THE PATHWAY OF A PIONEER 
 
 TROPICAL TALES 
 
 THE RIDING MASTER 
 
 THE UNOFFICIAL HONEYMOON 
 
 YOUTH WILL BE SERVED 
 
 THE RAT TRAP 
 
 EXILE 
 
 THE PATHETIC SNOBS 
 
 THE CAREER OF BEAUTY DARLING 
 
 VERSES 
 
 THE MAGDALENE AND OTHER VERSES
 
 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 By DOLF WYLLARDE Author of 
 
 Holiday Husband/' "Temperament," "The Story of 
 Eden," "The Rat Trap," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 MCMXXI
 
 Copyright, 1921, 
 By JOHN LANE COMPANY 
 
 Printed in the United States of Americp
 
 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 2138997
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A SENSE of humour is one way to heaven. 
 Mary, looking at Eddie Thorne, decided 
 that it was unlikely he would ever enter 
 therein through the straight and narrow way ; but 
 the angels should be guilty of connivance to admit 
 him. His eyes danced, and it fascinated her. Even 
 Peter should be indulgent if Eddie came up to the 
 Gate with that air of finding something to laugh at 
 in the situation. He would be demurely surprised 
 to find himself there. 
 
 Mr. Thorne was sitting on a tree-stump, with his 
 arms resting on his knees and his hands dropped 
 loosely between them. In this attitude he could 
 look at Mary with an intentness that she should 
 have resented and did not. They had known each 
 other for the space of one week and had come to 
 Christian names and the freedom of years of in- 
 timacy. Some affinity between them there must 
 have been, were it only of laughter and good 
 spirits. 
 
 The girl was lying back in the hammock, one 
 foot dangling over the edge, and her hands clasped 
 under her sleek head somewhat ruffled now by the 
 cushions he had arranged for her. From half- 
 closed, smiling eyes she looked covertly at Eddie, 
 and Eddie looked back at her with no pretence at 
 all about it. 
 
 1 1 Your hair is all rough, Molly ! " he said, ' * and 
 
 7
 
 8 
 
 you oughtn't to wear silk stockings in the morning 
 when you are knocking about the Wilderness 
 amongst those brambles. It's awfully extrava- 
 gant. ' ' He laid his hand with a swift light touch 
 on the small ankle and arch of her instep and 
 stroked them. The audacity was so quick that it 
 was over almost before it was begun; and he 
 laughed, with an inimitable movement away from 
 her as if he expected to be cuffed. 
 
 " You are impertinent! " 
 
 ' ' I know I am. I used to be shy until I found 
 that I was losing my chances. You would much 
 rather that I was impertinent. You like it! ' 
 
 " And as to the stockings," said Mary, while 
 she wondered if he spoke the truth, " I simply 
 couldn't find any others to go with my shoes. 
 You should talk to Berkeley, it 's her fault. She 's 
 so tidy that I never have a clothe to wear. ' ' 
 
 " I don't want to talk to Berkeley; or to any- 
 body else, when I can talk to you. ' ' 
 
 " Well, talk to me! " 
 
 " When I talk to you I want to do something 
 more." 
 
 " Well, do something more ! " 
 
 " Shall II You'd be awfully angry if I did." 
 
 ' ' Not a bit besides, you know you daren 't ! ' 
 
 Thome got up, put a hand on either side the 
 hammock, and leaned towards her. His move- 
 ments, as always, were swift, and the moment was 
 critical. But Mary, looking over his shoulder, 
 saw rescue in the nick of time, and drew a sharp 
 breath. 
 
 "Eddie! There's a strange man walking 
 across the lawn. He's coming this way. Go and 
 see what he wants, for heaven's sake. He's 
 mad! " 
 
 Thome turned as swiftly as he had stooped, to
 
 WANDERING FIRES 9 
 
 discover that it was true. A man in boating flan- 
 nels and a straw hat was walking across the 
 smooth lawn that sloped to the river Thames, 
 looking about him as he came and evidently in 
 search of someone to interrogate. The cottage 
 stood well back from the river, and it was evident 
 that he had caught sight of the hammock under 
 the beech tree before he found the way to the 
 house, and hesitated, as if he wished to explain 
 his intrusion. The puzzle was how he got there, 
 since the front of Captain Trefusis' riverside cot- 
 tage opened into a drive leading to the high road, 
 and the stranger was approaching from the gar- 
 dens at the back. 
 
 Thome stepped out of the shade of the great 
 beech and went to meet him, without haste but 
 quite decidedly. Mary looked after him, more con- 
 cerned with him at the moment than the intruder. 
 Eddie had played cricket for his county until the 
 war, and was known as a safe and reliable bat ; he 
 was a slow bowler, with a break from the off but 
 he never got runs or took wickets so well as when 
 a band was playing, which was significant to a 
 student of psychology. Most people, however, like 
 Mary Trefusis, thought of his physique rather 
 than his temperament in connection with his no- 
 toriety in the world of sport. He was rather long 
 in the back, and walked with a suppleness that be- 
 longs only to the athlete. She adored Eddie's 
 walk. Without being graceful he made other men 
 look clumsy. It struck her as a mercy of Provi- 
 dence that he had not been maimed in the war, 
 though he came off with enough shrapnel in him to 
 prevent his riding races or playing first-class 
 cricket for the present. 
 
 The past moment had left her a little breathless. 
 It was seldom that Mary Trefusis lost her breath,
 
 10 WANDEBING FIEES 
 
 even though she said outrageous things to men as 
 the whim seized her. She took their forbearance 
 for granted, and on the whole it seldom failed her. 
 When it did she was furious but she was not 
 furious with Eddie Thorne, because he amused 
 her, and he was too good a comrade to be taken 
 seriously. There were several reasons why she 
 valued him, not the least being that every relation 
 she had objected to an intimacy between them, 
 and told her in unstinted terms of his past career. 
 There had been some connivance by mutual friends 
 to prevent their becoming acquainted, and that it 
 had happened at last was due to accident. 
 
 Mary watched the two men meet, and the con- 
 versation that followed. It did not end, as she 
 expected, with the stranger raising his hat in 
 apology and being politely directed off the prop- 
 erty. The explanation of his presence there 
 seemed to be engrossing, for the two men stood 
 talking for some minutes, with gestures to the 
 garden and the house, until her curiosity became 
 impatience. She sat up in the hammock and 
 swung her feet to the ground just as Thorne 
 turned and led the way over the lawn towards her, 
 followed by the stranger. 
 
 " Look here, Miss Trefusis," he said, as he 
 reached her Eddie's manners in public were in- 
 corruptible. " This is Mr. Jefferson Bromley, 
 and he wants to know if you will allow some cinema 
 pictures to be taken of your garden. He and his 
 fellow artists arrived in a boat, and seeing your 
 landing-stage they sent him ashore to make 
 enquiries. ' ' 
 
 " I hope you will forgive the liberty," said the 
 stranger, with a voice and manner as charming in 
 their way as Thome's, though he spoke with a 
 clearness and emphasis that not only belonged to
 
 WANDERING FIRES 11 
 
 his profession but were not quite British. * * Your 
 garden is so delightful and so exactly what we 
 want that I could not resist asking the owner's 
 permission. ' ' 
 
 " My father is away," said Mary eagerly. " But 
 / will give you permission ! Do bring your people 
 in and take pictures! It will be grand fun! ' 
 She sprang to her feet, looking from one man to 
 the other with wide, childish eyes. " Where are 
 they? " she said excitedly. 
 
 " In a boat, waiting at your landing-stage," 
 said the actor. " I'll go and tell them that they 
 have your permission to land, and bring the op- 
 erator, if I may? ' 
 
 " Come along! " said Thorne readily. His 
 glance met Mary's with the mutual enjoyment that 
 had been a factor in their friendship. Eddie was 
 always ready for an adventure, and the young 
 blood in her veins ran quicker to answer him. As 
 a matter of fact they were both delighted at the 
 novelty of the thing, and pleased to find that Jef- 
 ferson Bromley was undeniably a gentleman what- 
 ever his associates might prove to be. 
 
 " Will you want anything arranged chairs, or 
 tables, or anything brought out ? ' ' said Mary, her 
 whole heart instantly in the proceedings. " Do 
 tell us what you would like ! ' ' 
 
 "If we might have a tea-table would it be 
 much trouble? The scene is supposed to be an un- 
 expected meeting of the hero and heroine at a 
 party up the river. They are introduced to each 
 other as strangers by their hostess, being of course 
 secretly married and estranged ! There is tea and 
 tennis going on " 
 
 " Yes, of course topping fun! I'll go and tell 
 James to bring out everything. ' ' She was radiant 
 with amusement and interest. " Go down to the
 
 12 
 
 boat with Mr. Bromley, Eddie, and bring the oh or 
 people up,'* she said, forgetting to be cautio ,n 
 her turn and the tact of his " Miss Trefuois." 
 But Mary rarely remembered the conventions she 
 demanded of other people. 
 
 She raced away to the house while the two men 
 walked over the lawn and down to the landing- 
 stage to disembark the rest of the company. They 
 were not so very many after all: the operator, 
 who, with Bromley, was practically in charge of 
 the proceedings, two other men, an elderly lady 
 with powdered hair, and two girls. The powder 
 looked well in the pictures, but all the face? of the 
 performers were made up with what is called five, 
 or five-and-a-half grease-paint, in the profession, 
 and were a yellowish white to prevent their ap- 
 pearing black upon the screen as would otherwise 
 have been the case. Thome's observant eyes 
 danced again at their bizarre appearance, but in 
 spite of the paint he noted that one of them at 
 least was a pretty young woman with a somewhat 
 full figure in a flowing gown. She was introduced 
 to him as the leading lady, Miss May Moon. 
 
 " Awful cheek, our rushing you like this! " she 
 said, walking by Thome's side over the smooth 
 sward to the terraced gardens that lay beyond. 
 " But we were up against it for a riverside scene, 
 and when we saw this we just screamed! Hope 
 the people here don't think us a howling 
 nuisance? " , 
 
 ' * Not at all we are awfully keen on it, servants 
 and all! You have caused a flutter through the 
 whole of Restawhile." 
 
 " Is that the name of the cottage? You see we 
 came in by the back stairs, as it were, so we don't 
 know. It's simply sweet, I think. Who's the 
 owner? "
 
 WANDERING FIRES 13 
 
 ^Captain Trefusis." 
 he about! ' 
 
 " No he's gone to Sandown." 
 
 11 Oh, he's a racing man! ' Miss Moon spoke 
 with the certainty of inexperience. The social 
 attractions of race-meetings, even to men who 
 hardly cared to have a sovereign on a horse, were 
 unknown to her. ' ' Who 's giving us permission to 
 take the pictures then? " she said. 
 
 " His daughter is here she was only too 
 pleased to have the chance of seeing a cinema re- 
 hearsal. Is it a rehearsal, or the real thing? ' 
 
 " W?ll, it's both. We shall try the scene a bit, 
 and then put it through, we hope. We are working 
 on a new film five reels. It's going to be a big 
 production. ' ' 
 
 Thorne knew as little of five-reel productions as 
 Miss Moon did of bachelor parties for race-meet- 
 ings, but he was very much more adroit in conceal- 
 ing his ignorance. He looked at the girl's full, 
 smooth face and smiled into her bistred eyes. The 
 yellow paint on her rounded cheeks was so odd, 
 taken in conjunction with her blackened lashes, 
 that he found it rather piquant. Furthermore, he 
 found a strong attraction in anything which he 
 called ' * Bohemian, ' ' and the whole of the cinema 
 company might be grouped under that heading to 
 his hopeful mind. He did not really know any- 
 thing at all about the Bohemian world, for he was 
 an open-air man rather than an explorer in dissi- 
 pation ; but he used the word to express a laxity in 
 morals and a general licence as applied to his own 
 behaviour, and he found it very easy to assimilate. 
 He would have described a fast woman of his own 
 world as " Bohemian " though she was as far re- 
 moved from the manners and customs of that free 
 community as a game-keeper from the gipsies. In
 
 14 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 the present instance Miss Moon arrested his atten- 
 tion because her work demanded that she should 
 make up her face, and he took that as a suggestion 
 that prompted his next speech. 
 
 11 You are the heroine, of course? " he said. " I 
 envy the hero ! ' ' 
 
 "I'm lead, yes. You ought to come and see the 
 film when it's released. It will be at all the prin- 
 cipal halls." 
 
 * ' Of course I shall but I like seeing it this way 
 much better." 
 
 " You'll only get a scene or two." 
 
 ' ' Yes but I really see you in those scenes, and 
 I only see your photograph when it 's produced. ' ' 
 
 She smiled with the conscious vanity of a screen 
 beauty. " Do you know, I'm wondering who you 
 are," she said. " You are not Captain Trefusis' 
 son? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Or his son-in-law? " 
 
 " Not even that." 
 
 " Oh, don't tell me if you don't want to ! ' 
 
 It was not very often that Mr. Edward Thorne 
 was aslied to define his position anywhere, or in 
 any circumstances. In the present instance the 
 explanation was difficult. It occurred to him as 
 distinctly humorous that he did not know what 
 to say. 
 
 " I am only a friend who is allowed on visiting 
 terms at Restawhile," he said, rather admiring his 
 own lie. He was certainly not ' ' allowed ' ' on vis- 
 iting terms by Mary's female relatives so much as 
 by the carelessness of her father. " I dropped in 
 this morning to see if Miss Trefusis would come 
 boating, and by good luck came in for your show. 
 My name is Thorne. ' '
 
 WANDERING FIRES 15 
 
 " Well, now we know each other, anyway ! ' ' said 
 Miss Moon, as they reached the group of trees 
 where Mary was directing the men-servants to 
 place chairs and a tea-table. She had thrown her 
 whole energies into the matter and was flying to 
 and fro like a whirl- wind, bringing out cushions 
 and rustic stools, and a plate of fruit which she 
 banged down on to the tea-table, making the tea- 
 cups ring. 
 
 " We always have fruit at tea-time I thought 
 it looked more natural. And you can all walk 
 about eating strawberries and talking with your 
 mouths full! " she said breathlessly to Bromley. 
 
 Of course the position she had chosen for the 
 tea-table was all wrong, and the dense shade of the 
 trees impossible for the projected work. Bromley 
 altered the grouping in consultation with the op- 
 erator, and with perfect tact got the servants to 
 enter into the spirit of the thing, arranging the 
 scene with the right setting. He was playing lead 
 this morning, but in the absence of the manager 
 and producer he had taken on some of his duties. 
 He was aware, as he placed his stage, that Miss 
 Trefusis was hovering round him, tense with ex- 
 citement, her eyes following everything he said 
 with the innocent absorption of a child. 
 
 " Do let the men bring in the tea or do some- 
 thing, so that they can be in the picture," she said. 
 ' * They would be so bucked ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' Certainly, if you don 't mind. I will show them 
 what I want them to do. They must be content to 
 be well in the background though, as they are not 
 made up at all." 
 
 " Why? What difference does all that paint on 
 your faces make? I've been dying to ask you! ' 
 
 ' * Well, if it were not there we should all appear
 
 16 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 to be black ! Of course a negro cast would be in- 
 teresting, but your men might be disappointed in 
 themselves! " 
 
 The actor left Mary to laugh, and drew the eld- 
 erly butler and Captain Trefusis ' own servant on 
 one side, proceeding to coach them and finding 
 them far quicker to grasp his meaning than re- 
 cruits from a higher social grade, as is often the 
 case. Then he turned again to his hostess. 
 
 " Would you mind coming on yourself! Just 
 with your racquet in your hand as if you had been 
 playing tennis, and to drink a cup of tea up stage ? 
 We want another guest or so if you and Mr. 
 Thorne would help us ? Perhaps you would rather 
 not, though? ' 
 
 ' ' We should be perfectly thrilled ! ' ' She called 
 to Thorne in her fresh young voice, her slightly 
 flushed face turned to him over her shoulder. 
 Bromley, looking down on her, thought he had 
 never seen a more beautiful girl of her particular 
 type. She was so young, so mutinous, so delicately 
 vivid. She seemed in love with life and at war 
 with it at the same time. 
 
 Thorne left his flirtation with Miss Moon, and 
 joined Mary Trefusis at her summons. She seized 
 him by the arm in her excitement, and gave it a 
 little squeeze, oblivious of the fact that it must be 
 amusingly obvious to the actor. 
 
 " Eddie, Mr. Bromley says we may both be in 
 the picture up at the back because we are not 
 painted yellow and our faces would be black! 
 They want some more guests at their tea-party. 
 I'm to come on with a tennis-racquet, and you 
 what is Mr. Thorne to do ! " she flashed round on 
 Bromley, all big eyes and flushed cheeks and parted 
 lips. 
 
 " I thought if Mr. Thorne were standing by the
 
 WANDERING FIEES 17 
 
 tea-table behind the hostess, when the heroine en- 
 ters, he could shake hands with her and have a lit- 
 tle conversation. Then she turns away down stage 
 and comes face to face with me and ' suppresses 
 her emotion at sight of Carruthers ' ' he quoted 
 from the sub-title, laughing. " It makes it more 
 natural. ' ' 
 
 11 My dear feller," said Thorne easily, " may I 
 really have some conversation with Miss Moon, or 
 must I hold her hand and do it in pantomime? I 
 shall make a better show of it if I may talk. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, yes, talk talk by all means. I want you 
 to. Look, Miss Trefusis, will you stroll down with 
 me from that terrace, and stand with me for a 
 minute while Miss Moon makes her entrance? 
 Suppose we try it first? " 
 
 Mary had dropped Thorne 's arm and appeared 
 utterly unconscious that she had taken it; but 
 Jefferson Bromley could not help wondering a lit- 
 tle who " Eddie " was, much as May Moon had 
 done, and what were his relations with this pretty, 
 odd girl. There was no ring on her left hand, and 
 Bromley was unconsciously dependent on such 
 sign manuals. The indifference with which she 
 left Thorne, too, and followed at his own heels, was 
 puzzling; but then Thorne himself, in his turn, 
 seemed quite ready to take the goods the gods pro- 
 vided in the more matured May. Eddie had per- 
 haps forgotten that not twenty minutes since he 
 had told Mary he wanted to talk to no one else 
 when she was present. His memory served him 
 admirably in the lesser veracities of life. 
 
 The drilling of the amateur actors introduced 
 into the pictures took less time than Bromley had 
 expected. The servants already grasped, their 
 parts, and carried tea from the cottage to the lawn 
 with perfect manners. The lady with powdered
 
 18 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 hair (slie was Mrs. Butt in private life, and Miss 
 Vera Cholmonderly on the stage) was almost su- 
 perannuated at the tea-table, so deftly did James 
 take the onus of the situation on himself and teach 
 her her proper place as hostess. Bromley found 
 that, after all, Mary was his most difficult pupil. 
 She became suddenly shy and a victim of stage 
 fright when the moment came for her to appear 
 with the hero, and her naturalness deserted her. 
 Seeing which, be began to talk with a suddenness 
 that made her look up at him as he desired. 
 
 11 That was a good set, the last we played," he 
 said, giving her no warning that he was inventing 
 the by-play for the scene. " Captain Strong and 
 Miss Slasher very nearly had us beaten. I don't 
 like that playing up to the net but Strong always 
 does it. Your backhanders were splendid! You 
 are in much better practice than you were last year. 
 And the courts are much better since your father 
 had them sown. Don't you think so? " 
 
 ' ' We were not here last year ! ' ' said Mary 
 blankly, gazing up at him in a manner that he knew 
 must be most effective on the screen, though he 
 was careful to keep her well out of the foreground. 
 He was a tall man, and broad-shouldered. In spite 
 of her slim height, she had to raise her head to 
 answer his amazing assertions. 
 
 " Yes, you were you have forgotten, Miss 
 Trefusis! Strong was flirting with that pretty 
 widow w T ho came down for the regatta, and you 
 and I were laying bets about them. I can't think 
 why he did not marry her not enough money, I 
 suppose. He does play rather high at bridge. 
 Miss Slasher won't suit him, anyway." 
 
 " But who is Captain Strong? ' 
 
 " The man who was playing against us just now 
 at tennis! "
 
 WANDERING FIEES 19 
 
 " But we haven't really been . . . Are you mak- 
 ing it all up? ' 
 
 ' ' We must be talking to each other, you see, as 
 we come into the picture! " 
 
 Mary suddenly began to laugh, and her face 
 broke out of its wooden fear. " Do you always do 
 that? " she asked, as they came down the grass 
 steps of the terrace together. " Do you make up 
 your part as you go on? ' 
 
 1 l Oh, yes. I have sometimes had to give an ex- 
 temporary speech at a supposed election from the 
 balcony of a supposed hotel, and I once became 
 quite wrought up in my defence of a criminal, 
 though I did not know I was to be his counsel five 
 minutes before." 
 
 " How awfully clever! " 
 
 11 It is only knack," he said gently, pausing in 
 the middle of the lawn to allow the heroine to make 
 her entrance. 
 
 Eddie Thorne had proved a far better actor than 
 Mary, and a brilliant success. He was not troubled 
 by self-consciousness, and he immediately grasped 
 the advantage of speaking his part as well as act- 
 ing it, and the opportunities it gave him. While 
 Mary was making her trembling entrance he had 
 been announced at the tea-table by the butler, as- 
 sured his hostess that she was looking charming, 
 accepted a cup of tea (James, remembering that 
 it was not yet noon, had thoughtfully made it a 
 mixture of ginger-ale and sherry), and was ready 
 to greet Miss Moon on her appearance. 
 
 "I'm in luck again! " he said, with a pres- 
 sure of the lady's hand that nearly took her 
 by surprise for all her experience. " It seems 
 ages since we met, doesn't it? At least, it does 
 to me ! ' ' 
 
 " It is about half an hour since our first meet-
 
 20 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 ing! " said the cinema beauty, unable to resist 
 laughing. 
 
 11 And yet I feel as if we were old friends don't 
 you? Don't you know how you get to know some 
 people at once, as if it were a mutual attraction? 
 Surely you have felt that? " 
 
 " I think you are a very silly person! " said 
 Miss Moon with solid coquetry. There was a good 
 deal more of reality than suggestion about May, 
 mentally as well as physically. 
 
 " No, but you must believe in love at first 
 sight!" 
 
 " I don't think I was ever asked such a thing at 
 such short notice." 
 
 ' ' Go on ! I expect you Ve been asked it by every 
 man you've met." 
 
 " I have certainly never met any man like you! ' 
 
 " Haven't you? Is it a new experience? Don't 
 you like new experiences ? ' 
 
 " That's as good as asking me if I like you ! " 
 
 " I know it is. That is what I am asking you." 
 
 The give and take of the sentences, rapid as they 
 were, were holding up the action of the scene. The 
 operator's warning voice rang out the while he 
 watched it. " A little quicker, Miss Moon! ' 
 
 Eddie sauntered away with his peculiar light 
 gait, and tried his luck with the other cinema girl, 
 Miss Eobin Ward; but she would do nothing but 
 giggle and ask him if he could jazz on the close-cut 
 turf, and he waited for the end of the scene and 
 Miss Moon's release from duty to give him her 
 whole attention again. Mary had hardly fared 
 better. A lean youth in a summer suit that did not 
 fit him drifted over to her neighbourhood when 
 Bromley had to take his dramatic moment of meet- 
 ing the heroine, and she stood, swinging her 
 racquet, and answering his efforts at conversation
 
 WANDERING FIEES 21 
 
 by monosyllables the while her eyes remained fixed 
 on Bromley. 
 
 " It's very early for strawberries! " said the 
 lean youth, with a nervous grin. 
 
 11 Yes." 
 
 " I suppose you grow them under glass 1 ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I hope you don't mind our wolfing them, they 
 look so tempting ! ' ' 
 
 " Do." 
 
 ' ' Jolly little place you have here ! Like it bet- 
 ter than London? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 This scene was rehearsed twice on account of the 
 amateurs, and then Bromley, in the place of the 
 absent manager, sent his actor's voice across the 
 garden to start the performers : " Are you ready? 
 Go ! Camera ' ' and at the word ' * camera ' ' the 
 operator began to turn the handle. 
 
 It seemed that the scene moved automatically 
 after that, though a nervous thrill passed through 
 Mary at the relentless sound of the machine that 
 was recording blunders as well as the measured 
 work of the cast. Had it not been for Bromley she 
 would have forgotten even the trivial part she had 
 to play and stood petrified, watching the actions 
 of everybody else. But he shepherded her safely 
 through the opening of the scene, and when he 
 left her she was so placed that she could follow his 
 movements with a curious awe of his very real 
 talent. He made the stereotyped situation some- 
 thing that might be real and was almost tragic, 
 up to the end of the scene where May Moon denied 
 all knowledge of him with a manner that was too 
 melodramatic to carry conviction but might be 
 effective with a cinema audience. 
 
 Then the deadly purring of the camera ceased,
 
 22 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 and everyone began to sort themselves as inclina- 
 tion or shyness prompted. Mary left the lean 
 youth and went back to Bromley as naturally as 
 Eddie Thome found himself in Miss Moon's 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 ' ' I want you all to have some lunch before you 
 leave," Mary said to the lead. " You have been 
 working so hard in the heat. Do let us give you 
 sandwiches and fruit, anyway! " 
 
 He turned with that quick charm of manner that 
 never seemed quite British. " It is most kind of 
 you most kind! " he said. " But I don't think 
 we ought to trespass. We can get some food at the 
 hotel near the station, and we must catch an early 
 train back to London." 
 
 " Do you mean that you came down this morn- 
 ing in this hot weather, and are going up again 
 this afternoon before it gets cool! " Her large 
 eyes rested on him with the amazement of the 
 leisured class. " Oh, you must certainly have 
 some lunch first ! I'll tell James." 
 
 Bromley's eyes followed her over the grass with 
 the kindly indulgence he would certainly have 
 shown to a child. Mary had the figure of the mod- 
 ern girl, which is as sexless as a sapling, and has 
 neither angles nor curves. She boasted that she 
 could wear her gowns hindside before if it suited 
 her. She was not really above middle height, but 
 her extreme slimness made her look tall. 
 
 After a few minutes she came back to tell her 
 self-invited guests that lunch would be ready in ten 
 minutes in the dining-room, and to beg them to 
 help themselves to the fruit that had done duty in 
 the pictures. She flung the fruit to the rest of the 
 cast as one flings corn to chickens to draw them 
 together, because she wanted Bromley to herself. 
 "Come and look at the gardens while the servants
 
 WANDERING FIRES 23 
 
 are getting lunch," she said. " Perhaps they 
 might do for another picture another time." 
 
 " Supposing that Captain Trefusis raised an 
 objection? " 
 
 " Oh, I shouldn't ask him! " she said calmly. 
 " I always do a thing first and ask afterwards 
 with father. Well, anyhow, I say I suppose he 
 won't mind when it's done. Then if he does 
 mind I have to stand the racket. But it's quite the 
 best way." 
 
 She was leading him along the terrace between 
 herbaceous borders that were already a mass of 
 colour, for the season was early. Her candid eyes 
 looked up into the actor's face without the least 
 idea that she was ruthless in her determination to 
 get her own way in life by any method that suc- 
 ceeded. Bromley had a way of wrinkling up his 
 face when he laughed that she liked. He was doing 
 it now. She thought about the wrinkles, and not of 
 her own indifference to parental authority. 
 
 11 Do you mind telling me if it is not an im- 
 pertinence how old you are? " he said. 
 
 * ' I am twenty-one. But I don 't think that mat- 
 ters much. I have always been the same age. My 
 mother died before I was a year old, so I have 
 taken charge of myself from the first. ' ' 
 
 * l Won 't } 7 ou find it rather hard to change when 
 somebody else takes charge of you I ' ' 
 
 " Nobody ever will," said Mary, with the cer- 
 tainty of colossal ignorance. ' ' Look ! you can see 
 the Castle from here, across the river. But I want 
 to show you the view from the Wilderness. ' ' 
 
 He uttered an exclamation of delight that was 
 too genuine for the average Englishman. 
 Through splashes of crimson may and golden la- 
 burnum he could see the dappled river, as bright 
 as a snake's skin with spots of sun and shadow,
 
 24 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 and "Windsor in a haze of heat that made it a pal- 
 ace of romance. The gardens tumbled about their 
 feet, blue with forget-me-nots and pink with tulips, 
 and Jefferson Bromley suddenly realised how 
 much pleasure rich men may fence in for their own 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " I love colour! " he said involuntarily. 
 
 " Are you quite English? " asked Mary in her 
 direct fashion. " You seem to me so much more 
 aware of the things round you than English people 
 are. ' ' 
 
 " Are not English people observant? " 
 
 " Very but they don't see! ' 
 
 " Well, I had a French grandmother. But I am 
 English to the backbone." He spoke a little 
 restively. 
 
 " If you were, you wouldn't resent what I said 
 so keenly," said Mary shrewdly. " I wonder if 
 your French blood helps you to act! I think you 
 are most wonderful in those pictures you seem to 
 explain things with your hands." 
 
 " That is only training. One uses more gesture 
 for the screen than the stage. ' ' 
 
 " The others didn't use gestures like yours. 
 They only went into attitudes and jerked their 
 limbs about. I couldn't help watching you. I 
 seemed to know exactly what you were feeling and 
 thinking. ' ' 
 
 Her frank flattery was irresistible in spite of a 
 critical judgment that made him rather imper- 
 vious. He followed her through an archway in an 
 old wall, and on to a piece of wild land, feeling 
 the sunshine warm all over him, and unsuspecting 
 that not a little had been contributed by Mary 
 Trefusis and her appreciation of his work. 
 
 The Wilderness was given over to any growth 
 that pleased Nature, down to the lip of the river.
 
 25 
 
 Mary was for pushing her way through the bram- 
 bles that Thorne had warned her earlier were bad 
 for silk stockings, but Bromley put his hand on 
 her arm and checked her gently. The touch was 
 as light and impersonal as that with which he 
 might have picked a flower. 
 
 " Please let me go first and make a path for 
 you, ' ' he said, and lifted the long trails out of her 
 way, and trod down the nettles, so that she could 
 walk at ease. 
 
 * ' You make the road very smooth for me ! " she 
 said with a little wonder. 
 
 " That is a man's business, when there is a lady 
 in the case! " he returned. 
 
 She looked up at him for a moment curiously, 
 and her lips parted as if she would speak. But 
 she closed them again, and only directed his atten- 
 tion to the view with a gesture. There was more 
 of the river here, and less of the vegetation on its 
 banks, so that they saw the whole sunny breast 
 of it bared to the blue sky and decked with sun- 
 jewels. What a broad flash it looked against the 
 distant green, and how it filled and flooded the 
 picture ! Mary stood in silence for a minute as if 
 something in its irresistible tide and movement 
 appealed to her. Then she raised her eyes again 
 and looked at Bromley deliberately. He was taller 
 than Thorne, a different build, with more weight 
 and less suppleness. He would never grow stout 
 any more than Eddie, but he would thicken. She 
 had never cared for heavy-weights, but something 
 in his flat back and square shoulders gave her a 
 sense of protection that she had never felt in any 
 man. His face was rather strongly marked, and 
 being clean-shaven for his profession the lines 
 round the mouth showed the more. She judged 
 him to be about six-and-thirty, but as a matter of
 
 26 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 fact lie was less. There was a deep ripple in his 
 hair despite it being closely cut, and his eyes were 
 very kind she did not notice their colour. He 
 seemed to her an unusual type of man to have 
 walked into her life this June morning, and he in- 
 terested her. 
 
 " Do tell me about your life, Mr. Bromley," 
 she said suddenly. * * I think it must be so delight- 
 ful." 
 
 " It was delightful to-day, because you have 
 been so good to us. But we do not always work 
 under such heavenly conditions! ' He looked 
 round him with intense enjoyment. " "We take 
 pictures in the winter as well as summer, you 
 know, and we spend hours in the studio, which is 
 either very hot or very cold. ' ' 
 
 " Where is your studio? " 
 
 " It is down at Roehampton. I daresay you 
 know the Club? Well, not far from that." ' 
 
 " And what is the company called? " 
 
 * * The Block Film Company. It is a syndicate in 
 reality, but William Block started it, and he is still 
 our general manager." 
 
 ' ' It must be a very exciting life ! Do you really 
 do all those things like falling down precipices and 
 escaping through tunnels? ' 
 
 " Sometimes if we are working that kind of 
 picture. It is a very strenuous life when, for 
 instance, you are holding on to the side of a wreck, 
 waiting for the boat to rescue you, or climbing up 
 the side of a balloon ! We none of us like that kind 
 of thing." 
 
 " But it can't be monotonous. It must be con- 
 stant change! ' 
 
 A devil of dissatisfaction crept into her clear 
 eyes, and made their glance round her a darkened 
 thing. She turned away from the flood of sunlit
 
 WANDERING FIRES 27 
 
 water, and they went back to the terraced gardens 
 and the cottage, almost in silence. Here they 
 found the company assembled, and ready for the 
 cold luncheon that James had provided in a 
 fashion that was little short of miraculous. But 
 though he could not have expected seven or eight 
 extra to lunch, painful experience of his master 
 and Miss Mary had trained him to keep supplies al- 
 ways in reserve. It was very difficult to strain 
 the hospitality of Restawhile to the breaking-point 
 under James' jurisdiction. The resources of Cap- 
 tain Tref usis ' income would go first. 
 
 Thome was quite in his element, looking after 
 everyone's wants and joking the company out of 
 their shyness, though he contrived to keep up the 
 flirtation with May Moon at the same time. While 
 Mary was in the Wilderness with Bromley he had 
 spent the time profitably in showing Miss Moon 
 other portions of the grounds, their way seeming 
 always to veer to the darkest of shrubberies and 
 arboured nooks. There was the atmosphere of 
 success about Mr. Thorne in his w r hite flannels, as 
 of one who has not asked in vain; but Mary was 
 rather silent, and the lurking discontent in her 
 eyes seemed to focus when they rested on Bromley. 
 The company were all going away in a few 
 minutes, taking with them the life and stir they 
 had brought and the glimpse of something fasci- 
 nating because so novel : and leaving her with the 
 small resources of the existence that she knew, 
 which were apt to weary her however much she 
 defied law and order. She was like a child trying 
 to make a tempest in a duck-pond, while all the 
 wide seas lay outside her horizon with real storms 
 and dangers to prick the blood. 
 
 The self -constituted host and hostess saw their 
 guests down to the landing-stage and into the
 
 28 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 boat, and stood at the landing-steps calling out to 
 them and waving farewell. Eddie's last glances 
 were for Miss Moon, whose cream-painted face was 
 almost conscious under his practised eyes. Brom- 
 ley had turned at the last step to shake hands with 
 Mary once more and thank her in that peculiar 
 resonant voice. 
 
 " I wonder if we shall meet again I want to 
 see you again! " she said on impulse as his hand 
 clasped hers. There was not the least pressure of 
 her fingers, nothing beyond the strong grip of a 
 clean man who felt and wished to show friendship. 
 
 * * I should be charmed delighted, ' ' he said hon- 
 estly. "Perhaps if you were in London . . ." 
 
 " "Would a letter to the studio find you? " 
 
 * l Always or the Green Room Club. ' ' 
 
 "I'll write," said Mary, as he released her 
 hand. * ' I must know when the picture is going to 
 be shown. ..." 
 
 Then he was in the boat, and there was some 
 laughter and false alarm at getting her out in mid- 
 stream, and then the whole brief incident seemed 
 to be vanishing round a bend of the river, as 
 quickly as one of the pictures that come and go on 
 the screen. It had been curiously reminiscent of a 
 cinema show throughout, even without the actual 
 rehearsal and taking of the photographs. 
 
 Mary and Thome stood side by side for a minute 
 while the boat vanished, as if their thoughts went 
 with it very different thoughts, as they were dif- 
 ferent people. But as by a mutual impulse, they 
 turned to each other again when they were alone, 
 and laughed. 
 
 " How amusing! " said Mary. 
 
 The shadow passed from her face, and she 
 opened her big eyes as if she had awakened from 
 some curious dream. " I liked that man I think
 
 WANDERING FIRES 29 
 
 I shall always like him. Did you make the running 
 with the girl, Eddie? What was she like? She 
 seemed to me a little common compared to Mr. 
 Bromley. ' ' 
 
 " I daresay," said Thome carelessly, and he 
 did not trouble to explain that this had been no 
 disadvantage to a passing entertainment from a 
 masculine point of view. One essential difference 
 between men and women lies in their values of 
 life. 
 
 " Well, anyhow, they are gone now," said 
 Mary, looking round at the deserted lawns and 
 empty gardens, so stirred with movement all the 
 morning. 
 
 " And now we must amuse each other again," 
 said Eddie Thome. 
 
 He slipped his arm into hers and drew it close 
 against him, and so they returned to the cottage.
 
 CHAPTER H 
 
 CAPTAIN TREFUSIS had been known as 
 " Poker Trefusis " in his regiment, owing 
 to his devotion to the game. He could pre- 
 serve an equal innocence of face over a straight 
 flush or a pair of twos, and it made him a terror 
 to more nervous players. Not an eyelid betrayed 
 him when he bluffed, and his ingenuous uplook had 
 frequently led an adversary into giving his own 
 hand away by some self -consciousness. He played 
 poker all through his life, not only in the game 
 but with events, and only when he laid his cards 
 upon the table did the astonished spectators realise 
 how completely he had kept his own counsel and 
 out-mano3uvred them. 
 
 Mary was rather fond of her father because he 
 did not interfere with her. Her mother had died 
 before she was a year old, as she had told Brom- 
 ley, and a succession of nurses had brought her up 
 in addition to some muddling by female relatives. 
 The opposing power in her life had been her moth- 
 er 's elder sister, Lady Alexandra Ratrick; but 
 Lady Alex was a personality and an influence 
 throughout her world. She had married Admiral 
 Ratrick as a girl, and had no children, but almost 
 before she was a woman she had begun to domi- 
 nate the hard-headed Yorkshire family from which 
 her husband came. Perhaps it was because she 
 had been as headstrong as Mary that she under- 
 stood her. Certainly they had quarrelled, and 
 
 30
 
 WANDERING FIRES 31 
 
 been reconciled, and struggled for supremacy of 
 will from the time that Mary was five; and the 
 issue was not decided yet. 
 
 Mary admired her aunt as the most beautiful 
 person she had ever seen, and stood in some awe 
 of her terrible common sense, if she stood in awe 
 of anything. Lady Alex was a slight woman with 
 perfect hands and feet and small flat ears all the 
 signs of breeding from many generations. Her 
 hair had turned silvery-white by the time she was 
 thirty owing to a fever, and her young sparkling 
 face was the more remarkable by contrast. She 
 had curious eyes, green and blue by turn, that had 
 no depth in them, but quick, cold expression. If 
 man or woman once saw those eyes melt they were 
 ever after Alex Ratrick's slaves. But the experi- 
 ence was given to few. Lady Alex had been 
 abroad for the past month or so in India, where 
 her husband's relations held high official positions. 
 It was possibly due to this that her niece had 
 made the acquaintance of Thorne, since vigilance 
 was apt to relax in Lady Alex's absence. The life 
 of the family, with Mary as a member, was apt to 
 resolve itself into a ceaseless effort to prevent her 
 doing unconscionable things, and there was little 
 rest or confidence for anybody who was in tem- 
 porary charge. 
 
 Captain Trefusis' " few days " lengthened 
 themselves into a week, and threatened to be a 
 fortnight before he returned to Restawhile. He 
 said he had got a cold, and Mary added a rider 
 to herself that he had certainly got an agreeable 
 party. At the end of the fortnight Thorne went to 
 London, impelled thereto by a regimental dinner 
 of his recent corps. 
 
 " Why don't you run up to town for a few days, 
 Molly? " he said. " Come on! Bring your maid
 
 32 
 
 and stay somewhere respectable. I'll take you 
 about to make things even! " 
 
 " Father may come back any day," said Mary 
 discontentedly. But the suggestion pleased her. 
 She began to think about it always the short cut 
 to action in Mary's mind and when her father's 
 return receded into distance she told Berkeley that 
 they were going up to London for the inside of a 
 week and she should want a few clothes packed. 
 Berkeley, with an inverted mouth, raised the ob- 
 jections that had never deterred her mistress. 
 
 "It is very difficult to get rooms just now, 
 miss! " 
 
 " I've wired," said Mary briefly. 
 
 " "Will you give James orders in case the Cap- 
 tain returns? " 
 
 " He won't return he's struck ile! " 
 
 Berkeley passed the vulgarity with patience. 
 ' * I suppose James knows what you would wish in 
 your absence, miss? " 
 
 " Good Lord, Berkeley, as if James were not 
 runnin' the house now! What have I got to do 
 with it? It doesn't matter whether I am here or 
 no." 
 
 Mary had wired to Brown's Hotel because her 
 family usually stayed there on flying visits to Lon- 
 don. It was an unconscious convention that she 
 would not have followed if it had been pointed out 
 to her ; but as a matter of fact it secured her the 
 rooms, because Lady Alex Ratrick's was a name 
 to conjure with, and Miss Trefusis had stayed at 
 the hotel with her aunt and was known in con- 
 junction with her. Having got her rooms, Mary 
 departed without a scruple in leaving Restawhile 
 to James, and fully enjoying the fact that even 
 her father would disapprove of her action when 
 it was too late.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 33 
 
 Paddington was cabless. Every vehicle that 
 came into the station had a porter hanging on the 
 step already, or was seized by a more active male 
 than the two female travellers before it reached 
 the curb. Berkeley toiled up into Praed Street 
 as far as the Great Western Hotel entrance, and 
 Mary appealed to officials in vain. At last it was 
 her own native resource that secured her a taxi, for 
 seeing it arrive with passengers she ran like a 
 deer beside it, her hand upon the door. Then, as 
 it drew up, she was aware of a man in khaki who 
 had run also, but failed to reach it as she had. 
 
 " My cab! " she said breathlessly. 
 
 ' * Yes, ' ' he responded, a little grudgingly. 
 
 " I've been waiting twenty minutes," she flung 
 at him over her shoulder, as consolation. 
 
 " I've been waiting half an hour! " said the of- 
 ficer grimly. 
 
 Mary looked at him while the present occupants 
 of the cab were unloaded and the driver took his 
 fare, seeming still half undecided as to whether 
 he would allow anyone to re-engage him after 
 all. 
 
 1 1 "Where do you want to go f " he said to Mary. 
 
 " Brown's Hotel, Albemarle Street." 
 
 "All right! " 
 
 " Can't you come too? " said Mary suddenly, 
 turning to the man she had displaced. He had 
 aquiline features and dark hair, and was rather 
 personable. His eyes were a curious light blue, 
 which looked lighter by contrast to a tanned skin, 
 and they lit up pleasantly at her suggestion. 
 
 " Would you mind! " 
 
 " Not a bit it's only me and my maid. Where 
 do you want to go ? " 
 
 11 If you would drop me at the Cavalry 
 Club . ."
 
 34 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 " Yes, of course. I'm very glad to do it. Get 
 in, Berkeley." 
 
 The presence of Berkeley might advantageously 
 have been dispensed with, save that it proved ab- 
 solutely no check to Mary's flow of conversation. 
 She chatted to her good-looking companion as if 
 the maid were not sitting beside her in silent pro- 
 test, until he forgot to guard his strange light 
 eyes and looked a little more than he had dared 
 to say. 
 
 1 ' If I had had to wait any longer I should have 
 sworn like a W.A.A.C. ! " said Mary. 
 
 " I had done that already." 
 
 " Poor devil! I don't blame you. How long 
 had you waited ? Half an hour I Isn 't it damnable 
 that they don 't put on more cabs I ' ' 
 
 " It wouldn't matter if everyone were as kind 
 as you ! ' ' 
 
 " I think the war has made us all more neigh- 
 bourly, don't you? It seems to have knocked the 
 conventions down." 
 
 (In Berkeley's experience Miss Trefusis had 
 been knocking the conventions down ever since she 
 was seven ; and it was her laborious duty to build 
 them up again in futile fortifications. She looked 
 out of the window, and wished that Hyde Park 
 Lane were shorter.) 
 
 " Do you really Think that people are less con- 
 ventional? I met a woman the other day who told 
 me that she had given up going to church because 
 she thought it so silly to be tied by convention; 
 * and,' she added, ' nobody does it now '! M 
 
 Mary looked a little taken aback. " I suppose 
 it is only a conventional liberty after all," she 
 said. 
 
 ' * People are very seldom individual revolution-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 35 
 
 aries. When a crowd begins shouting ' Liberty ! ' 
 we fancy that we are liberated, that is all. ' ' 
 
 11 But surely everyone mixes together more 
 freely, anyhow. I met heaps of people I should 
 never have known if it hadn't been for war- work, 
 and I have kept it up I still know them. ' ' (Mary 
 had been for three months in munitions before she 
 broke down. And she had certainly kept in touch 
 with the most incongruous amongst her fellow- 
 workers as long as their novelty startled her into 
 remembrance.) 
 
 " Would you have mixed with them if ' every- 
 one ' had not done it ? " 
 
 ' * I owe something to the age I live in, I suppose 
 you mean? " 
 
 * * Ah ! that I couldn't say. You might have been 
 greatly daring, anyhow ! ' ' He looked at the chal- 
 lenging beauty of her face, and hesitated. " We 
 are all rebels when we are young, ' ' he said. 
 
 Berkeley gave a sigh of relief. The cab had 
 turned into Piccadilly. She knew, far better than 
 the officer, that to tell Miss Mary that she was not 
 doing anything out of the common after all was 
 to spur her to fresh effort. Mary was silent too, 
 and her large eyes brooded mischief. 
 
 The cab stopped at 127, Piccadilly. " I can't 
 thank you enough," said the officer simply, as he 
 saluted at the cab door. " I hope our luggage 
 has not got hopelessly mixed, but if you miss any- 
 thing you can send the police for me." 
 
 " I can't I don't know your name?" said 
 Mary quietly. It was her eyes which asked the 
 question. 
 
 " Durham." His tone was a little quickened, 
 that was all. He had been prepared to close the 
 incident with the cab door, as a gentleman. If she
 
 36 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 left the door open he could not forbear looking in. 
 
 Mary nodded, leaned back in her seat, and said, 
 " Please tell him to go to Brown's Hotel." She 
 did not tell him her own name. It was on all her 
 luggage, and if he could not contrive to discover 
 it while reclaiming his own well, he was a fool. 
 She had no use for fools. 
 
 Brown's Hotel was an oasis in the drab sandi- 
 ness of Albemarle Street. It had beer newly 
 painted white, and its ivy-leafed geraniums 
 drooped pink clusters of bloom all along the bal- 
 conies. In spite of a dull, cold day Mary's spirits 
 were at bubbling point with the recent adventure, 
 the sense of being in the midst of life, the change 
 of scene above all, the change. She came in 
 under the portico radiant and glistening with life, 
 though her face was unsmiling. Mary did not need 
 to smile in order to radiate. The porter took pos- 
 session of umbrellas and travelling gear, and the 
 new arrivals were handed on to their rooms with 
 a small sense of fuss and deference even in the 
 decorous hotel that pleased the unconscious egoist 
 in the girl. She ordered tea in her own room with- 
 out a thought of giving extra trouble any more 
 than expense, because it was more comfortable 
 than going down to the lounge, and then bethought 
 her of the telephone which was ready to her 
 hand. 
 
 " I want the Alexander Hotel," she said, and 
 having got it demanded Eddie Thome. She knew 
 he stayed there for exactly the same reason that 
 she stayed at Brown's, because it was a tradition 
 with his people, though he would have been more 
 comfortable at his Club, where he was less liable 
 to the embarrassment of meeting stray members 
 of his family. 
 
 Mr. Thome was out, and Mary's straight brows
 
 WANDERING FIRES 37 
 
 came together like the meeting of two thunder- 
 clouds. 
 
 ' ' Tell him Miss Trefusis rang up, please Miss 
 Trefusis and wants him to come to dinner at 
 Brown's Hotel at eight o'clock." 
 
 It was very tiresome of Eddie to be out ; it made 
 the first check in her successful day. If he couldn't 
 come she might just as well have asked someone 
 else. Should she ring up the Block Studio and see 
 if Mr. Bromley were available? Or the Cavalry 
 Club f Her most recent acquaintances were always 
 uppermost in her mind. As she left her room at 
 last and ran down to the lounge, to await a reply 
 from Thorne, she met a lady just coming in from 
 the street, who stopped and looked at her and 
 looked closer as if slow to be convinced. 
 
 * ' My dear Mary, where on earth did you spring 
 from? ' 
 
 " I've come up from Restawhile for a few 
 days," said Mary, laughing, her good-humour re- 
 stored on the instant. * * Father is away playing 
 poker with some men at Esher who are racing at 
 Sandown. He says he has a cold because he 
 doesn't want to come home. Why do parents 
 never tell the truth ! I was so deadly dull on the 
 river that I decided to run up to town and see a 
 few things." 
 
 " Is anyone with you? " 
 
 " Oh, I've got Berkeley," said Mary carelessly. 
 But it drifted through her mind that it was good 
 luck coming across Mrs. Claud Carpenter, be- 
 cause she could always give the impression that 
 she had come up to stay with her rather than 
 met her by chance ; and though she did not bother 
 herself with trouble before it came, a heated dis- 
 cussion with her family over her right of action 
 was always to be avoided.
 
 38 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Claud and I are staying here till Tuesday, " 
 said Mrs. Carpenter. " We are dining out to- 
 night, unfortunately, but you had better sit at our 
 table." 
 
 " I believe I've got a man coming to-night, so 
 that is all right. Thanks all the same, Clare. ' ' 
 
 " What man? I do hope it isn't one of those 
 munition people you knew last year! " 
 
 " They have rather gone out of my life, some- 
 how. I didn't mean them to, but somehow it 
 happened. They were awfully good sorts, really. 
 Do you remember Sam Roby coming down to 
 Henley in a high hat, and my taking him on the 
 river as if it were the Serpentine? ' 
 
 " I do ! " said Mrs. Carpenter grimly. " I also 
 remember what Lady Alex said. I'm thankful 
 they have gone back to their own sphere and left 
 you to yours. It's no use, Mary; the war isn't 
 going to make any social difference really, though 
 girls like you grasped the opportunity to talk 
 about freedom and make it a fashion to know 
 your inferiors. You would never have done it if 
 all your friends had not. ' ' 
 
 Mary laughed again. " How odd! " she said. 
 ' ' Someone else said that to me not an hour ago. ' ' 
 
 " Someone else? ' 
 
 " A man I picked up at Paddington, and brought 
 as far as the Cavalry Club. He couldn't get a 
 cab." 
 
 11 Is this the creature who is coming to dinner? " 
 
 " I haven't asked him, anyhow yet. I may, if 
 I am lonely ! ' 
 
 " Who have you asked to dinner? " 
 
 " Mr. Thorne." 
 
 " What Thorne? One of the Thornes of Up- 
 cott? Not Eddie Thorne, surely? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 WANDERING FIEES 39 
 
 " How did you get to know him? ' 
 
 ' ( Met him at Blanche 's. We are great pals. ' ' 
 
 1 f In this minute ! I know you had not met him 
 last month." 
 
 " Some people take years to know, and you 
 don't know them then because you don't want to. 
 I knew Eddie in a week." 
 
 " I hope you know all about him as well. He 
 really is married, to that girl in the Russian Ballet, 
 I believe. Of course it is not openly acknowledged, 
 but he is. ' ' 
 
 " I daresay. What does it matter? I don't 
 want to marry him, myself. ' ' As she spoke it oc- 
 curred to her for the first time to wonder if she 
 ever would have done so a passing wonder that 
 had really never struck her before. Mary an- 
 nexed men much as she bought sweets a reason- 
 able perquisite of her youth, and quite delightful 
 for the time being. They had gained no perma- 
 nent hold on her life as yet. She would as soon 
 have thought of her afternoon's acquaintance as 
 a husband, or of Jefferson Bromley, as of Eddie 
 Thome. 
 
 " I hope he won't come," said Mrs. Carpenter 
 frankly. " Why can't you put him off, and have 
 him to-morrow night, when we shall be here? You 
 need not even dine at our table if you are keen on 
 being conspicuous, but do for decency's sake bring 
 him to us in the lounge for half an hour, so that we 
 can say we were all together! " 
 
 Mary showed two rows of even little teeth in a 
 fresh spasm of laughter. " I daresay he can't 
 come," she said consolingly. " I only gave him 
 four hours' notice. A man is generally pretty 
 badly engaged if he is up in town for a few 
 days. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, he is likely to bo badly engaged! " agreed
 
 40 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 Mrs. Carpenter unkindly. " What are you going 
 to do now? " 
 
 "I'm coming up to your room to talk, unless 
 you don't want me." 
 
 " Come by all means but you must expect 
 Claud to tumble in and out. His dressing-room is 
 too small for him, and most of his essentials are 
 in my room." 
 
 ' ' I think there ought to be a close time for wives 
 as well as for birds, when husbands know they 
 must be undisturbed. It must be an awful nui- 
 sance to have a man as intimate as your maid. ' ' 
 
 " Mary, oblige me by not saying that to a man. 
 It is perfectly true, but liable to misconception." 
 
 They went upstairs arm-in-arm, laughing, and 
 when Mrs. Carpenter wanted to dress Mary re- 
 luctantly departed to her own room, rang for hot 
 water and Berkeley, and had her hair done. She 
 came down to the coffee-room a little before eight 
 in a short-waisted white gown that made her look 
 unusually young, and attracted passing glances of 
 disapproval or curiosity to her solitary condition. 
 The day had been sunless throughout, but the 
 panelled room looked cosy despite the hungry day- 
 light, and against its dark background Mary's 
 figure had the innocence of a lost child, so that a 
 waiter took her in hand as if by instinct. 
 
 " Pardon me, madam, there was a telephone 
 message for you." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary indifferently. " What is 
 it? " 
 
 " The porter took it. I think it was that the 
 gentleman will be here as soon after eight as 
 possible. ' ' 
 
 " Very well. Which is my table? " 
 
 He had secured one in such a remote and se- 
 cluded corner that Mary nearly laughed, remem-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 41 
 
 bering Mrs. Carpenter's challenge of her wish to 
 be " conspicuous." Had Clare Carpenter not 
 sought to jockey her like that she would probably 
 have chosen to sit in the middle of the room, for 
 she liked other people to see, and to be seen by 
 them; but that word " conspicuous," and the 
 glances of the diners already present, made her 
 gloriously restive. She would not even go out 
 into the hall again to await her guest ; she lounged 
 sideways in her chair with insolent intent, very 
 obviously expecting somebody to join her. But 
 as a matter of fact she was thinking more of 
 Major Durham at the Cavalry Club than of any- 
 body else, with a happy stir of adventure in her 
 blood, when she looked up to see Eddie Thorne. 
 
 He had come in with the light step that never 
 betrayed him, and was standing a few feet away, 
 looking at her with the devil's own mischief in his 
 face. How long he had been there she did not 
 know ; but it struck her, not by any means for the 
 first time, that his eyes were much darker than 
 those of men with more swarthy complexions, and 
 they seemed to darken with his mood, so that the 
 fire in them never betrayed the colour. What did 
 not strike her, as it would have done an older 
 woman, was that he must be an adept at walking 
 noiselessly in dangerous places that he could 
 come and go unguessed by jealous ears. All she 
 recognised of Eddie Thorne was the ease and 
 swiftness of his trained movements. 
 
 " How long have you been there? " she de- 
 manded, stretching out her hand to him across 
 the table and smiling as he approached and took 
 it. The other diners tried not to turn their heads, 
 but she was perfectly aware that she was the point 
 of attraction in her dim corner. 
 
 " The waiter showed me your table, and told me
 
 42 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 the lady was waiting. I'm very sorry. Am I so 
 late? You are looking awfully fit. How long 
 have you been up? " 
 
 " Only this afternoon I had an adventure as 
 soon as I got to Paddington. Oh, how all my dear 
 families would groan! Do sit down, Eddie. I'm 
 worse than hungry, I'm empty! ' 
 
 Thome sat down, beside her instead of on the 
 opposite side of the little table. He was always a 
 smart man, but in evening-dress he was perhaps 
 at his best, and the girl looked at him with uncon- 
 scious approval. The waiter thrust soup upon 
 them as on those who had waited too long, and 
 they ate it to dispose of it and him. Then Thorne 
 put his arms on the table and leaned towards 
 Mary with a happy oblivion of anyone else in the 
 room. His eyes held her, and she found it difficult 
 to look away from him though still unembarrassed. 
 
 " Tell me " his voice had a trick of going as 
 softly as his feet, and yet it sounded very much 
 alive " what was the adventure? " 
 
 1 ' A man I brought as far as the Cavalry Club 
 in my cab the poor wretch had been waiting for 
 a taxi for half an hour and I cut in before him. 
 If you hadn't turned up I should have asked him 
 to dine instead. I expect I shall have him to lunch 
 one day, anyway." 
 
 " You had better not do that, unless you know 
 who he is. What's his name? " 
 
 The conventionality of his tone was so decided 
 that it startled her. She had not expected such 
 doctrine from Eddie Eddie, who would have 
 drawn anything feminine into an acquaintance at 
 one encouraging glance! But it is the fast man 
 who is always the most conventional for others 
 than himself.
 
 WANDEEING FIRES 43 
 
 " He's a Major Durham. Wliy shouldn't I ask 
 him to lunch if it amuses me? You know you 
 would, in the case of a woman! ' 
 
 " Yes, but my dear thing, you can't do what I 
 do. You'll get in a mess, and wish yourself well 
 out of it." 
 
 " I shan't ask you to get me out of it, anyway ! ' 
 said Mary hotly. * ' Why should it be any safer for 
 you than for me I ' 
 
 * * Men learn to judge we always know. Women 
 are so silly, they put out their tongue at any man 
 who comes along! " 
 
 This view of her indiscriminate acquaintance 
 caught Mary unawares. She was furious through 
 the fish course, and silent till the wine waiter laid 
 the list insinuatingly at her elbow. But Thome 's 
 characteristic comment on her sex was having 
 more effect than any personal sermon from those 
 more in authority over her. 
 
 " We'll have champagne, Eddie. Perhaps if 
 you get drunk you will be civil ! ' 
 
 " I can't help it," said Thorne positively. " I 
 am not going to let you play the fool if a plain 
 warning can save you. Champagne is thirty-five 
 shillings a bottle, Molly, if it is worth drinking! ' 
 
 11 Never mind I haven't spent any money at 
 Restawhile because I won at bridge last week." 
 She ordered the wine, and looked at Thorne with 
 her brows still frowning. Thorne waited until the 
 waiter had sped upon his " joyous errand," and 
 laid his hand quickly over the one on her knee. 
 " You don't mind me, you know, Molly! " he said. 
 
 Her slender, strong hand lay in his for a minute 
 without any repulse. She rather liked his touch, 
 particularly since she knew that no one else in all 
 her little world would approve of it. The resent-
 
 44 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 ment left her eyes and dropped clown upon her 
 lips softened to a pout. Eddie's hand tightened 
 coaxingly. 
 
 11 Come and lunch with me instead of Major 
 Durham, Molly," he said. "I'm so safe! ' 
 
 Then she laughed outright, in enjoyment of the 
 demure lie. But so far he had been safe for her, 
 and he had acted the incongruous part of saving 
 her from an indiscretion. She looked at him 
 afresh, and remembered Mrs. Carpenter's remark 
 about the girl in the Russian Ballet. Perhaps he 
 was married? more probably not. In the first 
 place it was his own secret, and in the second she 
 could not ask questions. But she found him the 
 more stimulating for the mystery. 
 
 11 I ought not to drink champagne. I shall have 
 the gout some day," said Thorne, as the w r aiter 
 filled his glass a third time. " Pity that all good 
 things have a to-morrow." 
 
 " You don't look like gout," said Mary scorn- 
 fully, and indeed he did not. " I might just as 
 well say that I shall have bronchitis when I'm 
 forty because father catches cold. He's laid up 
 with it now but that doesn't prevent my wearing 
 a low gown! ' 
 
 " It's a very pretty gown. You look such a 
 good little girl in it, somehow, that I want to take 
 you on my knee and give you a kiss ! " 
 
 " Eddie, you've had too much champagne! " 
 
 " I swear I haven't." He was rather huffed, 
 but it was true that the wine had set their blood 
 dancing with equal recklessness. " I don't drink, 
 but I've the head of a rhinoceros, if I wanted to." 
 
 " Then I needn't offer you my arm to lead you 
 into the lounge," said Mary lightly, as she rose 
 from the table. ' ' We must go there because there 
 is nowhere else to smoke. It will be beastly
 
 WANDERING FIRES 45 
 
 crowded, but at least we can shock them. Oh, 
 Eddie, do help me to shock them! " 
 
 Despite her not offering him her arm he took it 
 surreptitiously, and together they strolled across 
 the hall and into the further room, followed by as 
 many glances as even Mary could wish. Brown's 
 is an hotel full of corners ; there was an empty one 
 in the lounge, shut in by glass screens and only 
 intended to hold two. The limited space was so 
 obvious that no one had taken possession, but 
 Mary made for it at once, though Thome had dis- 
 creetly dropped her arm. They sat down side by 
 side and began to whisper and giggle, for all the 
 world like two rather ill-mannered children; but 
 the intoxication of their high spirits led them into 
 such tricks in face of a public which after all made 
 it more silly than dangerous. There was no earthly 
 reason for their sitting in such obvious tete-a-tete, 
 except a love of accentuating a position that did 
 not exist. But they found their diversion in the 
 expression of other guests entering the lounge, 
 who either looked ostentatiously the other way, or 
 furtively under lowered lids, or made their faces 
 as masks to hide their real opinions. Long after- 
 wards Mary Trefusis looked back from older ex- 
 perience and marvelled that she could have been 
 so empty-headed and so unwise. She thought 
 they were a good deal excited by the wine, and a 
 trifle sentimental. What amusement could it have 
 been to her to sit hand-in-hand with Eddie Thorne, 
 with his eyes, darkened to intensity, on her face! 
 Unless indeed she were a little in love with him. 
 The possibility seemed afterwards impossible 
 only, the smell and taste of a certain brand of 
 cigarettes she had smoked that night always 
 brought back the irresponsible sense of his near- 
 ness, her own youth, the wonder about the Russian
 
 46 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 dancer, and the momentary passion of his eyes. 
 ... A more matured judgment and a later 
 knowledge of life told her that had they been really 
 alone all her sang froid could not have saved her. 
 He would have made love. She did not then, or 
 even much later, know what Eddie's love-making 
 might be. The impression of him that remained 
 to her that night was of a restless clasping and 
 unclasping of fingers, and dark eyes that might 
 look and say too much for a girl's peace of mind; 
 but she remembered little of the nonsense they 
 talked save one quick speech of his that struck an 
 echo in her sleeping consciousness. 
 
 " You asked me to dinner to-night instead of 
 all the other men you know so you must have 
 liked me! I believe you will always come back 
 to me, Molly, even though you follow wandering 
 fires. ' ' 
 
 " I wonder, if I did anything outright lived 
 with some man and didn't marry him, you know 
 whether I could tell you! ' 
 
 ' * Y-yes ! of course you could. ' ' The drawl did 
 not alter the eagerness of his words. It sounded 
 almost as if he would encourage that confession, 
 and she wondered if he would welcome her as a 
 fellow-sinner. " You never have, have you? " 
 
 " No it was not worth it." She did not say 
 she had never been asked, but as a matter of fact 
 the superhuman efforts of her family had really 
 shepherded her so far, despite her own foolhardi- 
 ness of speech and action. And no one save 
 Thome had ever put such a question to her, either. 
 She was assuming the license of her modernity, as 
 many girls do out of shame for their own inno- 
 cence. But then she spoilt her effect by an asser- 
 tion that proved her youth. " I don't think it ever 
 would be worth it. ' '
 
 WANDERING FIRES 47 
 
 " You don't know what you are talking about." 
 Quite suddenly his voice had grown positive, as 
 of one who did know. ' ' To love someone so much 
 that nothing else matters that's the most won- 
 derful experience you can have. And it's all your 
 own there's no one else but you in one person's 
 life isn't that worth anything? " 
 
 She turned in the cramped space beside him and 
 looked at him with wondering eyes, for it was as if 
 he spoke to her from beyond a boundary that she 
 might not cross. They were so close together that 
 they touched if they moved, and a minute since he 
 had been vitally aware of it. Now he was hardly 
 conscious of her, save as someone to whom to ex- 
 press his incomprehensible triumph. She won- 
 dered resentfully what he meant, and why she felt 
 thrust beyond the pale. She shrank a little, look- 
 ing at him with those clear empty eyes that held 
 no experience. 
 
 :< I'm not in love." She tried to say it ironi- 
 cally, but it only sounded sullen. 
 
 " When you are, you won't talk nonsense. It's 
 all very well, Molly; you can weigh the pros and 
 cons and say the game is not worth the candle, so 
 long as it's only a kiss and good-bye. I've done it 
 scores of times though I must own that the game 
 generally has been worth the candle ! " he added 
 with the devil's own honesty. " But when it's 
 serious with you, you won't think whether it's 
 worth while you'll know it is." 
 
 " Even to the bitter end? " 
 
 " Even to the bitter end, if it comes to that." 
 
 " I have always been able to say no! " said 
 Mary boastfully. 
 
 " It's very easy to say no when you've no in- 
 clination to say yes ! "lie retorted quickly. " You 
 haven't felt it yet. I'm sp aldng to you as if you
 
 48 
 
 were a young man, Molly, and not a little fool of a 
 girl, because I think you can stand it. Passion 
 isn't love but when you love you'll find that pas- 
 sion's part of it, and then it doesn't matter." For 
 the moment Thorne was in earnest; he almost 
 struggled for words to make himself understood 
 about a feeling that he did not understand himself. 
 And Mary Trefusis was as helpless as he through 
 her own lack of experience in what he tried to de- 
 scribe and a resentful sense that she could not 
 gauge his depth of feeling. Because he believed 
 in himself she believed in him, and it seemed to 
 separate them and made her vaguely discomfited. 
 She was rather relieved when he left her to go on 
 to a neglected engagement, though she promised 
 to lunch with him next day at the Bath Club; 
 and she went to bed yawning and with the impres- 
 sion that London was not so amusing as she had 
 thought earlier in the day. 
 
 1(1 Eddie's not a bit what people think he is," 
 she said to herself with the loftiness of her youth. 
 " He shows me a different side to the rest of the 
 world. ' ' 
 
 Had she known more she would have realised 
 that no man ever is what people think of him, 
 entirely. The complication lies in the fact that he 
 deceives himself more than his public.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THERE was a big bunch of roses for Mary 
 when she came down to breakfast next morn- 
 ing, with Major Durham's card. He had 
 only written on it, " With sincerest thanks for 
 your neighbourliness, " and the telephone num- 
 ber of the Cavalry Club; but it had the effect of 
 making her wish that she had not promised Eddie 
 to lunch with him in place of the newer man. If 
 he were going to be as serious as he was last night 
 she would rather have Major Durham; but she 
 cheered up again when she remembered that Eddie 
 never was serious for long, except over games. 
 
 At eleven o'clock she went out, Mrs. Carpenter 
 not having yet put in an appearance, with the far- 
 off objective of ordering household crockery at 
 the Army and Navy Stores, and walked down into 
 Piccadilly looking for a taxi-cab. They were as 
 scarce as the day before, and the day was chill 
 though not wet ; so Mary walked on to Hyde Park 
 Corner, and stood outside the arch watching the 
 vehicles come out of the Park and pass her. A 
 motor, empty save for the driver, slowed down as 
 he passed and then stopped at the kerb. Mary 
 looked at him and smiled. She had learned to 
 regard every empty car as her natural heritage 
 during her munitions work. 
 
 " I can't get a cab! " she said, her eyes noting 
 that he was evidently the owner, though it would 
 not have deterred her had he been only the chauf- 
 feur. 
 
 49
 
 50 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 1 ' Want a lift!" he asked, raising his hat 
 slightly. " I'm going down to Victoria. That 
 suit you? " 
 
 " Please! " 
 
 He opened the door, and she got into the seat 
 beside him. " I want to go to the Stores," she 
 said. " Put me down where you like." 
 
 He looked at her face, and said: " I think I've 
 time. ' ' 
 
 " What's the car? " said Mary amicably. 
 
 ' ( She 's an Overland. Driven one ? ' 
 
 " No but I know them. Doesn't jolt on a bad 
 road, does she? " 
 
 11 Doesn't jolt on anything. She's a light-weight 
 car. Done three thousand miles this year." 
 
 " Good! '\ 
 
 He drove in silence for a few minutes through 
 the traffic lines meeting outside St. George's Hos- 
 pital. Then : " D 'you girls ever think what might 
 happen? " he said. 
 
 " It couldn't in London," said Mary serenely. 
 
 " I don't believe you would care about anything 
 that couldn't." He laughed a little, and the lines 
 started into prominence in his face, showing her 
 that he was not very young. His tenets, there- 
 fore, were hardly hers. 
 
 " Of course, you might have been objection- 
 able," she said coolly. " But then, I wanted to 
 get there! " 
 
 " Is that really the reason, or do you like the 
 newness of your liberty? ' 
 
 11 Perhaps. Life must have been deadly even a 
 few years ago, before the Avar." 
 
 " You were at school then." 
 
 " I have never been at school except to the 
 world. I was educated that way."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 51 
 
 " And you think that your education is fin- 
 ished? " 
 
 Something in the gentle cynicism of his manner 
 made her flush. She remembered Eddie's voice 
 last night when he told her that she did not know 
 what she was talking about, and she felt as if her 
 youth hampered her instead of being the Open 
 Sesame to life as she devoutly believed. If you 
 belonged to the age you could do anything; and 
 yet everybody seemed combining to tell her that 
 she had done nothing. She sat in restive silence 
 while he drove very prettily through Victoria 
 Street, longing to say something clever that 
 should exonerate her; but it would not come, and 
 when he drew up at the Stores all she found to 
 give him was the ordinary thanks that she owed. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said, still with that indulgent 
 smile. " I am very glad to have had your com- 
 pany. When you meet him at lunch don't crush 
 him with your independence ! ' ' 
 
 She stared at him for a minute, and then 
 laughed. * ' I 'm lunching with my husband ! ' ' she 
 said on impulse, secure in the fact of her gloved 
 hands. " He's used to me by this time," and ran 
 up the steps into the drug department. 
 
 There was time and to spare before she need 
 meet Eddie in Dover Street at one-thirty, and, 
 her household orders given, Mary strolled into 
 the jewellery department to buy a gold safety-pin 
 for her boating-ties, having dropped her own into 
 the Thames while she was endeavouring to jab a 
 boathook into the Berkshire bank with intent to 
 land on someone else's property. As she leaned 
 over the counter, selecting her pin, she became 
 aware of a purchaser next to her who could not 
 make up his mind between pearl and turquoise
 
 52 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 earrings and a muff-chain in coral and gold. The 
 self -consciousness of a man in such circumstances 
 is never visible in any woman selecting the most 
 masculine of collar-studs or sleeve-links. She is 
 as suave as if the supposed brother or husband 
 for whom she chooses stood by her in the flesh; 
 but a man discredits a sister or a wife by his every 
 movement. Mary glanced out of the corners of 
 her eyes with passing amusement at her neigh- 
 bour's agitation, and the gruffness of the voice in 
 which he asked whether earrings were still worn, 
 or muff-chains popular. She saw him drop the 
 chain as if burnt, and her speaking face became as 
 serious as if they had met at a funeral. 
 
 " Do let me help! " she said kindly, and not 
 even the solitary dimple in her cheek betrayed 
 her. Mary had only one dimple, but it was so 
 deep that when she laughed she looked like a 
 naughty child sucking in its cheek for mischief. 
 " I love choosing wedding presents," she said 
 smoothly. 
 
 The relief in his face was so obvious as nearly 
 to disarm her. She had given him the phrase 
 behind which to ambush himself. 
 
 " Will you? " he said gratefully. " A man 
 never knows what is worn now. ' ' 
 
 " Don't you know if she likes earrings? " mur- 
 mured Mary, bending over the case. " You must 
 have seen if she wears them! >: 
 
 " I don't know her very well," he said, and 
 flushed again. She saw then that he was young, 
 in years as well as finesse. 
 
 " Is she fair or dark? " 
 
 11 Rather dark well, brown hair. Not so fair 
 as yours," he said confidentially. 
 
 " Then for heaven's sake don't give her tur- 
 quoise dark women never look well in them. I
 
 WANDERING FIRES 53 
 
 should take the muff-chain." They were both 
 speaking under breath, bending absorbed above 
 the trinkets, while the patient assistant regarded 
 them with no expression at all in his eyes. 
 
 * * D 'you think so ? Thanks I '11 take that. ' ' He 
 pushed the chain across the glass case and looked 
 round at Mary. " It's awfully good of you 
 really awfully good! " he said, as if for the first 
 time he saw the profile that had helped him to 
 choose. 
 
 " I liked doing it," said Mary frankly, leaning 
 sideways against the counter and giving him the 
 benefit of her full face. " It's so amusing to put 
 a finger into other people's lives when you don't 
 know them. ' ' 
 
 " I wish " he said, and stopped. It was so 
 
 evident what he wished that she laughed again. 
 " Well, I don't know either of you! " she said 
 carelessly. She turned to her own purchase and 
 gave her father's ticket number and name, and 
 the address on the river, really unaware that the 
 young man of the coral muff-chain was listening 
 in silence. They crossed to the pay-desk together, 
 and each paid for their respective goods, and 
 then turned as by a mutual impulse to another 
 department. 
 
 " I suppose you are not lunching here? " said 
 the young man after a minute's hesitation. His 
 eyes implored her not to snub him, but she was 
 too casual to have taken the trouble without his 
 making himself obnoxious. It amused Mary 
 Trefusis to speak to strangers on the highways 
 of life, knowing that only a few years since it 
 would have been a social impossibility. But that 
 was all she had no thought of unclean develop- 
 ment. 
 
 " No, I'm not lunching here," she said care-
 
 54 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 lessly. " I'm going on now good-bye. I hope 
 she'll like the muff-chain! ' 
 
 To her faint surprise he held out his hand. 
 " Good-bye," he said. " But I don't know that I 
 shall give the muff-chain to her or to anybody. ' ' 
 She had given him her hand because he asked it, 
 but when he almost clung to it she looked honestly 
 astonished. She could not believe in anybody so 
 impressionable as to make loth to leave her after 
 a few looks and words. 
 
 " Can't I do anything for you in return? " he 
 said, and almost stammered in his eagerness. 
 
 * * Well you can find me a cab if such a thing is 
 possible. But I couldn't get one at Hyde Park 
 Corner this morning." 
 
 His face cleared with a pleasure that was pa- 
 thetic, had she been aware of pathos, and he went 
 down with her in the lift with a sense of belonging 
 to her, though but for a moment, that struck her 
 as absurd. She stood on the steps outside the 
 Stores to watch him skilfully engage a taxi that 
 had just brought a fare, and allowed him to put 
 her in and to stand for a moment at the door. 
 
 " Tell him Brown's Hotel, please," she said, 
 and was rather relieved to leave him on the pave- 
 ment, for she began to be afraid that he would 
 ask if he might come part of the way with her. 
 
 " Don't think the muff-chain girl has got him 
 very tight," mused Mary, as she was driven back 
 to the hotel. On the whole the morning had not 
 been misspent, and she wanted to change her hat 
 for lunch; but she regretted that she had had no 
 chance to buy any clothes. 
 
 ' ' I must do that to-morrow, unless I take Eddie 
 with me this afternoon," she thought, and entered 
 the hotel, to be met by the porter with a telegram. 
 
 " Just come, miss," he said.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 55 
 
 Mary stood still in the hall to open and read it, 
 but its contents it was a long wire hardly 
 reached her understanding for a few minutes. She 
 was still standing there when Mrs. Carpenter came 
 out of the lounge and met her. 
 
 " How early you breakfast, Mary! " she said. 
 " Been out since? I do hope you've been alone! 
 Three people have already told me that you be- 
 haved disgracefully last night, and that Mr. 
 Thorne is no fit acquaintance for you." She 
 waited for a blaze of retort, but none came. " Is 
 anything the matter? " she said in a quickened 
 tone. 
 
 " My father . . ." said Mary uncertainly. " I 
 think he is very ill. James says we must come 
 back at once." 
 
 Mrs. Carpenter gave an exclamation of dismay. 
 11 But he was at Sandown Park. Has he come 
 home? " 
 
 * * Yes they have a nurse. It seems to be pneu- 
 monia. Clare, will you look out a train and order 
 me a cab while I find Berkeley and throw the lug- 
 gage together? " She had started across the hall 
 to the staircase even as she spoke. " Tell them 
 to send me my bill, ' ' she called back to Mrs. Car- 
 penter, already instructing the porter. 
 
 Half an hour later she was on her way to Pad- 
 dington, with Berkeley, pale and scared, beside 
 her. They had had no chance to lunch, and it was 
 characteristic of Mary that she deputed Clare Car- 
 penter to ring Thorne up at the Bath, where he 
 would be waiting, and tell him what had happened. 
 So Mrs. Carpenter found herself particeps crim- 
 inis to a lunch-party which she would either have 
 condemned or ignored had it taken place to her 
 knowledge, and her voice through the telephone 
 was crisp and brief.
 
 56 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 All the way down to the riverside cottage Mary 
 sat looking at the cold green landscape with 
 troubled eyes but a vague sense of resentment 
 upon her. She could not conceive of her father 
 as being really seriously ill, though pneumonia 
 left no comfortable room for disregarding it in 
 her mind; but she could not help feeling that it 
 had spoiled her excursion, and that as father had 
 been away for some weeks and had not needed her 
 all that time it was a pity that she had not gone 
 up to town earlier. Her face was quite serious 
 and a little white as they came home from the 
 station, but she had no clutch of immediate fear 
 at her heart until she was driven up through the 
 formal front garden to the porch. And then, even 
 as she stepped out of the cab, she saw James come 
 to open casement windows, of the dining-room, 
 closQ them, and draw down the blinds. 
 
 " He died twenty minutes ago," said the nurse, 
 mechanically glancing at her watch to make sure 
 of her assertion. " But of course he knew no one- 
 since early this morning, and he was unconscious 
 during the night. ' ' 
 
 11 Did he ask for me? " Mary questioned, look- 
 ing with puckered eyes at the collected face of this 
 girl who was but little older than herself, but who 
 had been sent hot-haste to take charge of the situa- 
 tion and run a race with death. 
 
 11 No, he asked for no one. He was too ill, yon 
 know. They do not think of anything but their 
 bodily needs. He asked for water. His tempera- 
 ture was one hundred and six degrees.'' She was 
 very sorry for Mary, with her white, tired face, 
 and immediately thought of material comforts 
 through the habit of her training. Her profession 
 was a practical one. Berkeley was nearly in a
 
 WANDERING FIRES 57 
 
 state of collapse from the shock and the strain she 
 had gone through she was not a young woman, 
 and the responsibility of Miss Mary tried her, 
 without added burdens. She was taken to the 
 housekeeper's room by the sympathetic staff, and 
 told all the dreary details that her soul loved. The 
 nurse took charge of Mary and saw that she had 
 some food, but her statement was of the briefest, 
 nor did she encourage her charge to rack herself 
 with questions as to when the illness became acute 
 and if her father could have been saved. Captain 
 Trefusis had come home unexpectedly with the 
 instinct of animals or human beings who feel that 
 their time has come and make for their homes. 
 Perhaps the journey in unseasonable weather (it 
 had been bitterly cold for July) had brought the 
 climax to his illness, but it would have been im- 
 possible to stop his return. 
 
 Not until she stood by the unresponsive figure 
 on the bed did Mary realise that he wa^ gone. The 
 denial of death met the warm pulsing life in her 
 with its full shock, and the familiarity of his face 
 had changed to a stranger 's. He had been a hand- 
 some man, of a type that is more human than 
 ascetic, and his code of morality had been so 
 strictly in accord with the world's that there had 
 been a certain indulgent acceptance of it in his 
 daughter 's mind. She knew that there was a bet- 
 ter standard, but she did not recognise that he did 
 also. Now, looking at that unknown face moulded 
 in old wax, she saw him spiritualised, and felt as 
 if she had missed a point of view she might have 
 had. He looked more worn than he had in life, 
 and she wondered if it were his illness, or perhaps 
 he was not so easy-going as he had seemed? 
 Finally she rushed away to cry healthily and nat- 
 urally until her eyes were sore and her heart eased.
 
 58 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 He had never caused her so much emotion before 
 in all her twenty-one years. 
 
 There was a consultation in the family as to who 
 should go down for the funeral and assist the 
 orphan to settle her father's affairs, of which no 
 one knew anything to speak of. It was a catastro- 
 phe that this should have happened while Lady 
 Alex Ratrick was in India and could not be counted 
 upon to put her own arrangements aside and come 
 home to manage Miss Trefusis'. In her absence 
 the family felt themselves singularly incompetent 
 to undertake this task now that even the titular 
 authority of her father was gone, and there was a 
 sneaking tendency to shirk the responsibility. 
 Finally, a first cousin of Captain Trefusis made 
 the unwelcome journey to Restawhile, and brought 
 his wife with him for the comfort of confidences 
 rather than any added control of their young 
 hostess. Mary raised no objection to Colonel and 
 Mrs. Doyle; she was rather thankful that they 
 were there to settle the technicalities of the situa- 
 tion. The funeral was arranged from London, but 
 at first no will could be discovered, and Colonel 
 Doyle was busy writing to Captain Trefusis' law- 
 yer and the bank where he kept his account, to 
 know if either of them could inform him of its 
 whereabouts. The will was finally discovered in 
 a looked cash-box at Restawhile with other old 
 papers, and was dated long since : but the enquiries 
 to the solicitor and banker brought forth the first 
 revelation of the state of Poker Trefusis' affairs. 
 The lawyer regretted to inform his heirs, etc., that 
 for some years Captain Trefusis' money matters 
 had been in a most unsatisfactory state, and he 
 had repeatedly urged retrenchment and strict en- 
 quiry into them. The banker was even more ex- 
 plicit. He could not supply details of the securi-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 59 
 
 ties deposited with him, because he regretted to 
 state that they had one by one been realised, until 
 there was nothing left but some bonds that would 
 cover the overdraft on the account. Captain 
 Trefusis had been living on his capital for some 
 years, and had he not died his pension w r ould 
 have been all that was left to him. Even Rest- 
 awhile was heavily mortgaged, and there was 
 nothing to meet the interest. The old poker- 
 player had laid his cards on the table at last, and 
 the faces of his survivors proved how well he had 
 bluffed. 
 
 11 Do you mean that father was bankrupt? " 
 asked Mary, with wide-eyed incredulity, staring 
 at Colonel Doyle. 
 
 " He would have been in a few months, if the 
 luck had gone against him any more at cards! " 
 said Colonel Doyle grimly. " It is simply shame- 
 ful that your mother had no marriage settle- 
 ment! " 
 
 11 You forget, Arty, it was a runaway match! " 
 said Mrs. Doyle soothingly. " Everyone was so 
 angry with Victoria for behaving as she did that 
 they said she might go her own way, and they 
 washed their hands of her. Alex did not speak to 
 her for years, and by that time it was too late to 
 talk about marriage settlements." 
 
 ' ' But when Mary was born it ought to have been 
 seen to," said Colonel Doyle irritably. "It is 
 very hard on her! ' ; 
 
 " You mean that I haven't a penny? " said 
 Mary, almost curiously. The strangeness of her 
 father's death had been so great that a second 
 shock made the less impression on her. " I shall 
 have to do something earn my own living? " 
 
 " Oh, we can't tell that as yet," said the Colonel 
 hurriedly. Experience taught him to guard
 
 60 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 against Mary's habit of instant action without con- 
 sidering the matter deliberately. " I shall have 
 to see the solicitors, and so will you. There may 
 be something saved out of the ruin the sale of 
 this place, for instance." 
 
 Mary rose rather suddenly. They had all been 
 sitting in the smoking-room, which had been study 
 or " den " as well to the master of the house, and 
 its comfortable seclusion seemed too confined for 
 the startling change in her life. 
 
 " I hope you'll see to all the business for me, 
 Cousin Arthur," she said decidedly. " About 
 selling the house, and getting rid of the furniture 
 and all that." 
 
 " And the servants," added Mrs. Doyle, un- 
 easily conscious of the ample staff with their solid 
 appetites, and the overdraft at the bank. 
 
 " Oh, yes all that. I suppose we must keep the 
 kitchen-maid to cook for us, and one of the house- 
 maids, and James I should hang on to James if I 
 were you, he knows where everything is! " 
 
 " You will miss Berkeley, Mary. She has been 
 with you since you were a child. ' ' 
 
 " She won't miss me! " said Mary with some 
 bravado to disguise the burning in her eyes. * ' Sh 
 will be thankful to retire. I have nearly worn her 
 out." 
 
 She went out into the garden, to gather breath 
 and face the future. The blank feeling of loss 
 loss of everything in life that she had taken for 
 granted was succeeded by a sense of excitement, 
 a bracing of her nerves by the very extremity she 
 was in. She brushed aside the solution to the 
 problem which she recognised in Colonel Doyle's 
 attitude, and decided at once that she would not be 
 given temporary homes with various relatives who 
 would hope silently but prayerfully for her mar-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 61 
 
 riage. She had the independence of her age, and 
 she would work. Other girls and young women 
 associated with her in munitions and hospitals had 
 worked before the war and were doing so now, and 
 she had grown familiar with their outlook on life 
 in somewise, though she did not -know the differ- 
 ence of actual experience. 
 
 Her restless feet carried her across the lawns 
 and towards the hammock w r here she had sat with 
 Eddie Thome a few weeks since that seemed as 
 many years. She had forgotten him as a vivid 
 personality in the stress of sharper happenings, 
 but his face rose suddenly before her mind the 
 irregular face that women found so much more 
 attractive than a duller type of good looks, and 
 the incongruous dark eyes. To suit his hair and 
 complexion Eddie's eyes should have been light, 
 probably blue, for he was unmistakably English 
 in any community. He had a trick of frowning 
 and smiling at the same time that accentuated his 
 eyes. She caught a memory of his characteristics 
 that made him seem very near, sitting on the old 
 tree-stump with his hands hanging between his 
 knees and his long, straight back leaning a little 
 forward as he looked at her. . . . And then behind 
 him rose the vision of the strange man in the gar- 
 den, who in turn developed into a personality 
 Jefferson Bromley and the whole procession of 
 the morning marched across Mary's consciousness, 
 the film company and their rehearsal. . . . 
 
 She stopped short before she reached the ham- 
 mock, and her eyes sought the glimpse of the 
 Wilderness beyond without seeing it. Here was 
 the solution of the immediate difficulty before her, 
 and a start in life at least, even if it proved a cul- 
 de-sac. She would write to Jefferson Bromley and 
 tell him what had happened in outline and ask
 
 62 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 him to help her to some training for cinema work, 
 and an engagement as soon as possible on account 
 of her slender resources. 
 
 " When I've cleared out everything that belongs 
 to me personally," said Mary to the summer 
 silence of the garden, " I shall have about twenty 
 pounds. I wonder how long I can live on twenty 
 pounds! "
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 IT is kinder to draw a veil over the defeat of 
 Mary Trefusis' relatives and connections when 
 they opposed her scheme for earning her own 
 living. Naturally enough, they disliked it very 
 much on account of its publicity and Mary 's known 
 character. A quieter girl might have persuaded 
 them that there was at least no advertisement in 
 her venture, a plainer one would have been less 
 of a mark for danger. It must be admitted that 
 there was nothing in Mary's career so far to jus- 
 tify confidence in her capability to look after her- 
 self. She had been dragged, fiercely resisting, out 
 of one scrape after another from her childhood up, 
 and her serene belief in her own immunity from 
 results was due to her perspiring guardians rather 
 than herself. 
 
 " Well, let her go to the devil! It will do her 
 good," said Colonel Doyle at last, after an alterca- 
 tion in which Mary had rather enjoyed the combat 
 and her own determination, 
 
 " Yes, but my dear Arty, people who go there 
 so seldom return intact! " said Mrs. Doyle hope- 
 lessly. " If they don't lose their reputation they 
 lose their looks, and that's worse." 
 
 " Serve her right! ' growled her husband, 
 smarting under a sense of having been swept aside 
 by the girl's headlong will, the ruthlessness of 
 youth. The worst of it was that she had never 
 grown exasperated in her turn, or asserted herself 
 hotly, or made a scene. He was intolerably aware 
 
 68
 
 64 
 
 that it was he who had done these things through 
 a sense of duty, while she had smilingly refused 
 to be turned from her purpose one inch. 
 
 Perhaps Mary would not have been so secure in 
 her position but for two things. Lady Alex 
 Ratrick was not in England or likely to be for 
 another twelve months; and she had written to 
 Jefferson Bromley and got his promise to help 
 her as far as was in his power. He had, of course, 
 only received Mary's version of the case, and from 
 his point of view it was " up to him " to do what 
 he could for her. Here was a girl left unprovided 
 for and penniless through no fault of her own, 
 forced to make her living, and with no special 
 talent for any work. She had an exceptionally 
 speaking face and a supple figure he was not 
 likely to forget her, for he thought he had never 
 seen a more wonderful type of girlhood and she 
 thought she could learn the work and would like 
 it if she could be trained. The only decent thing 
 a man could do was to help her, and he was thank- 
 ful that she was of such promising material. He 
 took a good deal of trouble to explain to her in 
 detail what she would have to do, and offered to 
 introduce her to his own manager if she would 
 come up to London, and from there to Roehamp- 
 ton, where they were rehearsing at the studio. 
 
 Mary did not inform her family of this cor- 
 respondence or the source of her knowledge with 
 regard to the cinema world. They based a forlorn 
 hope of her failure to get into the ' ' movies ' ' on 
 the fact that she could know nothing about the 
 profession, and that untrained girls even with 
 such a face were not eagerly sought after by 
 managers, who had the stage to draw upon in 
 preference. Mary did not even tell them when 
 or where she was going, and, lured into a false
 
 65 
 
 security, they awoke one day to the unpleasant 
 fact that after Berkeley's dismissal (there were 
 tears on both sides, after all) she had packed her 
 own belongings and taken herself off, leaving the 
 river cottage half shut up and James as care- 
 taker. Even the butler did not know her destina- 
 tion, but supposed it was London as she had or- 
 dered a cab to take her to the station for the 
 London train. 
 
 11 Having no authority to stop Miss Mary," he 
 said solemnly on being questioned, " I didn't care 
 to try it on. If the lawyers 'ad told 'er that it was 
 against the law for 'er to leave, and she could be 
 locked up for it, she might have stayed. But in 
 my opinion she 'd have left, any 'ow ! ' ' 
 
 Mary travelled up to London third class with a 
 view of husbanding her resources, and found it 
 rather amusing. Being totally without fear or 
 self-consciousness she turned every opportunity to 
 account, and asked the other passengers how she 
 should get to Roehampton. Had she made the 
 same enquiry at Paddington the chances are that 
 she would have been some time before getting a 
 workable answer and been sent by train out of her 
 w T ay; but a quiet mechanic sitting opposite knew 
 the neighbourhood, and told her that a 'bus ran 
 from Hyde Park Corner down to the very road 
 where the cinema studio was situated, and a young 
 woman with a child of three chimed in, " Yes, I 
 know it. My folks used to live that way. It's out 
 by the big club where they play games." 
 
 Mary turned to her, smiling, and stretching a 
 gloved finger for the round-eyed child to clasp 
 with a moist hand. " Do you think I could get 
 rooms there? " she said. " I am going to do work 
 in the neighbourhood and want somewhere to 
 live."
 
 66 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 The young woman looked dubiously at Mary's 
 very simple black gown and her innocent hat. 
 They had been chosen with intent, but they could 
 not deceive her. 
 
 " I don't know of any place as would suit you," 
 she said, " unless you went to the hotel." 
 
 " What hotel? ' 
 
 " It's a pub! " said the mechanic warningly. 
 " Leastways, it isn't the sort of hotel you mean 
 when you go to them, miss." He smiled a little 
 shrewdly, and Mary blushed and then laughed as 
 if found out. 
 
 " I couldn't afford an hotel," she said, " even 
 if it were a pub. Can't I get furnished rooms? ' 
 
 " They might take lodgers in one of they little 
 villas in the side roads," said the young woman. 
 " Real nice little 'ouses they are, with lace cur- 
 tains and a pot o' something in the winders ! ' 
 
 Mary's eyes twinkled, but she controlled the 
 deep dimple. " I should like that! " she said. 
 11 I'll go and ask them. I should so love watering 
 the thing in the pot ! ' ' 
 
 " Ah, I expect you're used to a garden," said 
 the woman simply. * ' So am I. It makes me fair 
 sick to live in a street. I must 'ave a winder-box 
 and a bit of green to grow in it." 
 
 Her rather prominent eyes went to the window 
 and the summer fields beyond with the yearning 
 of a creature who did not originally live in 
 cramped space or bear a sticky child with moist 
 hands. But the mechanic said nothing, though the 
 windows did not distract him from Mary. He 
 looked at her as if he detected a sense of humour 
 in her, and distrusted it like all his class. 
 
 At Paddington Mary left her heavier luggage 
 in the cloak-room, and proceeded across the Park 
 with a small suit-case that was constantly in her
 
 WANDERING FIRES 67 
 
 way and other people's in the motor-bus. She 
 ought to have had a pilgrim basket if she meant to 
 fend for herself, but this had not yet dawned upon 
 her. She found the next bus she wanted after a 
 long wait and some offers of assistance from 
 young men of the clerk description who wanted to 
 look at her, and, entrusting her case to the con- 
 ductor, went on top and sat out many miles of 
 suburbs of which she had hardly heard the names. 
 She had had no idea that London was so large, 
 even through motoring out of it, but she was now 
 seeing the county rather than the city of that 
 name. When at last the conductor called her down 
 she felt dazed and jolted, as if the motion of the 
 bus had got into her bones ; but she was at least not 
 hungry, having lunched at the station at Padding- 
 ton. With her suit-case once more in her hand, 
 she began to trudge up and down the side roads 
 indicated by the young woman in the train, in an 
 unavailing search for rooms that tried even her 
 young vitality. Most of the little villas were hor- 
 ribly offended at the mere request; Others ap- 
 peared to be in the sole charge of girls of four- 
 teen who could do nothing but stare at the intruder 
 and say, " I couldn't tell yer. The lady's out." 
 
 They were dreadful little houses, even to the lace 
 curtains and the " something in a pot " (generally 
 an indiarubber plant), because their uniformity 
 was so smug and so bounded by the incomes that 
 had called them into existence by the law of supply 
 and demand. After the fifth road Mary did not 
 know if they were alike or not, good, bad, or in- 
 different, the suit-case had become the load of 
 Atlas, and she had tramped the world. She set 
 it down on end at the last door she knocked at 
 haphazard, and sat on it, for she could go no 
 further.
 
 68 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 Her summons was answered by a round-faced 
 girl in a muslin gown to suit the month but not 
 the climate, who opened the door a little way and 
 looked round it in a fashion to inform any desper- 
 ate character that she was alone and an easy prey. 
 When she saw Mary she came on to the doorstep 
 in open curiosity, and they looked at each other 
 in silent appraisement. 
 
 " I'm so sorry," said Mary, rising wearily, 
 " but I was so tired I simply had to sit down. 
 This is the fiftieth road I've been up and down in 
 search of rooms." 
 
 " Oh, but no one here takes paying guests, un- 
 less it's done quite privately and through some 
 introduction! " said the other girl, reddening a 
 little. " Can't you see that it doesn't look the sort 
 of place? They are all private residences." 
 
 " It looks very nice and clean," said Mary 
 gently, her large eyes on the green doors and the 
 mosaic steps and the red and white fronts. " I do 
 wish someone let lodgings ! ' ' 
 
 " You couldn't have thought anyone here let 
 lodgings there are no cards in the windows ! ' ' 
 
 " I didn't look. I just rang the bell and asked. 
 But they always said no." She was again sitting 
 on the suit-case, looking covetously past the lady 
 of the house into the narrow little hall with its 
 cheap prints of Maud Goodman and its fumed oak 
 furniture. 
 
 " You do look tired would you like to come in 
 and rest a bit? Perhaps I could think of someone 
 respectable who would take you in, ' ' said the other 
 girl. 
 
 "May I? How awf'ly good of you!" said 
 Mary, and lifted her suit-case inside the door with 
 an alacrity that seemed ominous to her hostess.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 69 
 
 She somehow felt that, once inside, it would be 
 difficult to dislodge it. 
 
 They went into the drawing-room at the back of 
 the house. It was very full of furniture, and pic- 
 tures, and books, and brass things out of second- 
 hand shops that were not as old as they should 
 have been, and through the window was a view of 
 a narrow strip of garden with nasturtiums in a 
 riot of bloom and rambler roses and a band of 
 green grass. Mary sank down into a corner of 
 the fat sofa with a sigh of relief, and her hostess 
 faced her. 
 
 ' * Why do you want rooms here so much ? ' ' she 
 asked curiously. " You don't look a bit like you 
 can't be in a shop? " 
 
 " No, I'm going to train for cinema work," said 
 Mary, far less ashamed of being mistaken for a 
 shop assistant than her hostess had been in ask- 
 ing her. 
 
 " The pictures! Oh, I do love them so! And 
 you are going to act in them? Do tell me about 
 it!" 
 
 Mary had not much to tell, but what she had she 
 used with the ingenuity of the artist. The little 
 house was a refuge of cleanliness and newness at 
 least it was almost in the honeymoon stage, itself 
 and she simply could not tramp any more of 
 those roads. She saw the irresolution growing 
 in her listener's eyes even while she partly ex- 
 plained her position, and at last the offer came 
 that she was awaiting. 
 
 " I wonder if George would mind? My hus- 
 band is still abroad in Egypt not demobilised. 
 I live here by myself mostly, as it is so expensive 
 having visitors. I never took a P.G., but I've 
 often thought . J*
 
 70 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Oh, do! " 
 
 " It would be so amusing having someone here 
 who was going in and out of the picture studio ! 
 And then, it's only for a time? ' 
 
 * ' Oh, a very little while ! I believe they move 
 about all over the place, taking the films, you 
 know." Mary did not add that where the studio 
 was must be the permanent headquarters of the 
 company. 
 
 " I believe I might you are such a nice girl, 
 not a bit like the ordinary people one meets ! and 
 there is the spare room. Would you mind helping 
 to to dust a little sometimes? ' 
 
 "I'd love it! " said Mary untruthfully. " Do 
 let me stay ! I can give you all sorts of references, 
 and I'll pay you two pounds a week." (She could 
 go on for eight weeks at least, though it did not 
 leave much margin. Surely she must have trained 
 sufficiently to earn something in eight weeks!) 
 " Can I take my suit-case up now, and then I'll go 
 round to the studio and say I've come." 
 
 And in this wise was Mary Trefusis introduced 
 into the little household at Laurel Lodge and the 
 lives of Mrs. George Smythe and her absentee 
 husband. She never gave those references because 
 Gladys Smythe never asked for them ; she was far 
 too fascinated and absorbed with her strange 
 guest and the glamour of the cinema behind the 
 scenes to do anything but drink her in as if she 
 were new wine. 
 
 Mary took possession of the spare room at once, 
 while her hostess made her a cup of tea, the 
 " working housekeeper " (Laurel Lodge pre- 
 ferred that name to general servant) being out. 
 It was a small room as compared to the one at 
 Restawhile, and furnished in the same clean, 
 crowded fashion as the drawing-room; but the new
 
 71 
 
 occupant was delighted with it because it was new, 
 a different side of life to any she had seen ; ' * like 
 keeping house in a toy-shop," she thought. Her 
 weariness left her with her success in finding a 
 lodging, and the tea brought back her vitality. She 
 seemed more than ever a wonderful girl to Mrs. 
 Smythe when she came down again, refreshed, 
 and rushed off to the studio for fear she should 
 be too late to catch Jefferson Bromley. 
 
 She took another bus, by Mrs. Smythe 's direc- 
 tion, and was swung over the long green road, 
 with nothing in particular on either hand, ending 
 suddenly at the public-house that called itself an 
 hotel and which was decorously closed out of liquor 
 hours. Mary got down from the bus with the 
 feeling of the lost. She had been in one and an- 
 other for so long that they seemed a sort of refuge. 
 The conductor pointed her to a door between high 
 gate-posts, opposite the hotel, and was swung off 
 into infinite distance before she could thank him. 
 
 The Block Studio had originally been a large 
 and charming country house, and was still called 
 The Grange. Nothing was left of it but its shell 
 and its old walled gardens very useful adjuncts 
 these, for an outdoor scene. Mary pushed open 
 the gates and crossed a paved court to the double 
 doors, but even these were on the latch, and she 
 pushed again, to find herself suddenly behind the 
 scenes of the great cinema pictures which were 
 being shown on so many screens in and about Lon- 
 don. The hall had a curiously dismantled appear- 
 ance, though it was full of stage furniture and 
 hung with very bad oil-paintings of cinema stars. 
 A girl with a stage face w T as leaning against a 
 carved table talking to a man in khaki, and two 
 more people were doing absolutely nothing in im- 
 itation oak chairs; but none of them happened to
 
 72 
 
 have been in the cast of the pictures taken at 
 Restawhile. The girl left off talking to the man 
 in khaki to stare at Mary with the shrewd intui- 
 tion that this was a " stray " and no member of 
 the crowd. 
 
 " Can I tell you anything! " she said. 
 
 " Do you know if Mr. Bromley is here? " Mary 
 asked in her turn. 
 
 " I'll see." The girl plunged into a dark cor- 
 ridor leading at right angles from the hall, and ran 
 up a noisy, uncarpeted staircase, to return almost 
 at once with the remark: " Yes, he's here; you 
 had better come up. Mind the steps there are 
 three!" 
 
 There were generally three steps in The Grange, 
 as Mary discovered, leading either up or down 
 to any destination. She followed her guide into 
 the corridor, where more girls were sitting on the 
 bottom step of the old stairs, and vistas of still 
 more were visible in a low-ceilinged room to the 
 left. This, as Mary afterwards learned, was the 
 green room, and all the other rooms in that wing 
 were dressing-rooms. But her guide went up a 
 winding stair and along a gallery above the hall, 
 emerging suddenly into the studio itself. 
 
 The studio must have covered the space of a 
 whole suite, probably the drawing-rooms or ball- 
 room of the old house, with their ante-rooms. But 
 the upper floor and the roof had been torn away, to 
 be replaced by one huge glasshouse, under which 
 ran long lines and pulleys with black cloths that 
 could be dragged hither and thither as the operator 
 wished for the lighting of interiors. For a minute 
 Mary stood still, blinking with her great receptive 
 eyes. The rest of the house, altered though it was, 
 was still a house. This was a workshop, a scaf- 
 folding in upper air, the unreal factory for unreal!-
 
 WANDERING FIEES 73 
 
 ties. She was in a network of electric wires and 
 great lamps, of broken portions of rooms and 
 startlingly artificial statuary. 
 
 The cast had been rehearsing a big scene that 
 morning, and the stage was set with an ante-room 
 in the distance where a supposititious audience 
 was appearing in profile. The foreground had pre- 
 sumably been occupied by the few important prin- 
 cipals, but was now empty save for two or three 
 stage hands, scene-shifters and the electricians 
 very important and superior functionaries these 
 last, in whose hands the bewildering lines of lights 
 became well-trained and sentient things. In one 
 corner stood the narrow, delicate camera on its 
 tripod that she had seen at Eestawhile but had 
 hardly noticed in the excitement of that eventful 
 morning. On further acquaintance it seemed so 
 small a thing to take the great " movies " that 
 Mary was inclined to regard it with disappoint- 
 ment, for she had not as yet seen a reel and the 
 minute pictures with their perfection of detail. 
 
 " Here's Mr. Bromley! " said the girl who had 
 brought her up. 
 
 Mary threaded her way through oddments of 
 scenery, which the cinema people call " return 
 pieces " because they are used both back and front, 
 and caught her gown on a treacherous splinter of 
 wood that lurked behind an unfinished pillar. As 
 she stooped to disentangle herself a tall man in his 
 shirt-sleeves appeared from the back of an opera- 
 box, camouflaged like all the rest of the stage prop- 
 erties, and bent quickly to help her. 
 
 " Let me do it," he said. " You will spoil your 
 gown. ' ' And as she raised her laughing eyes Mary 
 found that she had met Jefferson Bromley again 
 over the snagged hem of her black skirt. 
 
 ' ' It 's all right, ' ' she said, springing to her feet.
 
 74 
 
 " I can darn it. How do you do ! I'm so glad to 
 have caught you." She shook hands with him the 
 more warmly for feeling him a former acquaint- 
 ance, almost a friend, amongst strangers, and his 
 eyes looked with the same kindly interest at her 
 young, beautiful face, a little flushed with the ex- 
 citement of this new adventure. For the first time 
 she distinguished the colour of those eyes, and rec- 
 ognised that they were blue. She had thought of 
 nothing before save their kindliness. 
 
 The girl who had acted as Mary's guide stopped 
 a few feet away, and glanced from one to the other. 
 She was turning to go, when Bromley said: 
 " Thank you, Miss Grey ! " and she nodded to him 
 and left them. But Mary had forgotten her. Her 
 whole attention was fixed upon the actor, with 
 his clean-shaven face and close brown hair with 
 the ripple in it. She thought how well-made he 
 was without his coat to hide the strength and 
 breadth of his figure. A different build from 
 Eddie Thome's a heavy-weight rather than a 
 light-weight, as she had noticed before. Why did 
 Bromley's near presence bring Thome back to 
 her, a shadowy third to their intercourse? They 
 were opposites, and yet the one man recalled the 
 other to memory inevitably. 
 
 " Well, you have caught me in my shirt- 
 sleeves! " Bromley said, laughing, and his good- 
 looking face wrinkled under the paint that made it 
 like a mask. " Will you excuse me without my 
 coat, Miss Trefusis? It is warm work here in 
 summer. ' ' 
 
 " I don't wonder! Please don't apologize. It's 
 like a hothouse." 
 
 It was indeed. Outside the day was sunny, but 
 below the normal temperature owing to a cold 
 wind. Inside the studio the sun beating on the
 
 WANDERING FIRES 75 
 
 glass was hardly tempered by open windows, and 
 most of the staff had discarded their coats like 
 Bromley. The Grange was not one of the most 
 modern studios, in that it still worked by daylight 
 even for interiors. When the house was altered 
 for the purpose of cinema work the " daylight 
 studios " were still in vogue, and the result had 
 been the great glasshouse. The disadvantage of 
 this for the company lay in heat in summer and 
 cold in winter from the glass roof; but even in 
 the most modern studios the artificial lighting will 
 make the place as hot as the sun. Later on in her 
 experience of cinema work Mary was to learn 
 what the latest developments in American lamps 
 could induce in the way of discomfort. Bromley 
 piloted her through the broken scenery to some 
 chairs left from the morning's rehearsal, and they 
 sat down in a grateful draught from the garden 
 below. 
 
 " I was so very sorry for your news," he said 
 gently. " I could hardly realise " 
 
 " Yes, but please don't let us talk of it," said 
 the girl hastily, almost impatiently. " I want to 
 get on with life, and not stand crying by the road- 
 side because I've lost my bearings." 
 
 11 That is very plucky of you very like you, I 
 should judge. I know just how you feel. Well, 
 now you want to get to work at once and have some 
 training. I've spoken to Mr. Block about you, 
 and I want to introduce you to him. I wonder if 
 he 's still here, by the way f ' ' He rose with a quick- 
 ness of movement that was unexpected from his 
 height and build, and suggested stored energy. 
 Mary watched him cross the studio and speak to 
 the electrician, and he was back at her side again 
 almost before she could expect it. Eddie Thorne 
 could not have been quicker Eddie Thorne again !
 
 76 WANDEEING FIEES 
 
 " It's all right he's just coming up. I don't 
 think we shall do much more this afternoon, but 
 we were waiting about to hear where rehearsal is 
 to-morrow interior or outside." 
 
 " Where do you train newcomers like my- 
 self? " 
 
 4 * In one of the rooms downstairs and we have 
 a corner of the garden to bury amateurs in when 
 they are of no use to us ! " 
 
 She met his eyes and laughed, to the depth of 
 that inimitable dimple. " I shall think of that 
 corner of the garden all the time," she said. 
 " You ought not to have told me till the moment of 
 execution. How did the pictures from Eestawhile 
 turn out? " 
 
 ' ' Very well indeed. When did you come up ? " 
 
 " Only to-day. I had such a hunt for a room 
 near here and such luck to find one ! ' ' 
 
 " You ought to have told me you were coming, 
 and I would have helped you." A look almost of 
 distress crossed his changing face, and she won- 
 dered at his concern for her. " Are you sure you 
 are with nice people? " 
 
 " Oh, yes with a girl whose husband is still in 
 Egypt, in one of those little villas in a road near 
 the Club. They are private houses, and quite 
 offended at the idea of ' paying guests ' not 
 lodgers, of course! but I took her by storm 
 rushed in when the door was opened, and dumped 
 down my suit-case and wouldn't go. She's quite 
 reconciled to me now, and has given me the spare 
 room. She loves the pictures ! that did it. You '11 
 have to come and see me, and that will make her 
 quite happy. ' ' Mary spoke with her usual flow of 
 words, happy again to babble to someone she knew. 
 The ephemeral acquaintance with Bromley seemed 
 quite an established thing to her, and she appro-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 77 
 
 priated him into her life as she did anyone who 
 attracted her, without waiting for overtures. He 
 sat and listened, smiling, and enjoying the vivid- 
 ness of her changing face. In his own mind he 
 decided that he would certainly go and see where 
 she was housed, to assure himself of her safety. 
 He had unconsciously accepted the responsibility 
 of Mary Trefusis, as more reliable people than 
 herself were apt to do. 
 
 There was a sudden movement amongst the 
 staff, and a standing to attention even of the elec- 
 trician and the operator, who had been chatting 
 together. Bromley turned his head with the quick- 
 ness that Mary thought was the outcome of his 
 training, forgetting that he had French blood in 
 his veins from a useful grandmother. " Here is 
 Mr. Block at last, ' ' he said. * ' Will you come and 
 be introduced, Miss Trefusis? " 
 
 The girl rose without the least self-conscious- 
 ness and followed him across the studio, a little 
 excited, but certainly not with the heart-breaking 
 anxiety of most novices whose daily bread depends 
 upon the next few minutes ' interview. Had it not 
 been for the war, Mary Trefusis would have bowed 
 to her sovereign with the same free grace with 
 which she approached the cinema manager, and 
 the same absence of nervousness. She had not 
 yet been presented, but she had been too much in 
 the limelight of the social world from her short 
 frocks to be easily abashed, and her training stood 
 her in good stead. 
 
 Mr. Block was a large man, physically at least, 
 and he had no more coat on than his company. 
 It is probable that he felt the heat of the studio 
 even more than they, for he was very stout, and 
 the top of his bald head glistened as with dew. 
 He was speaking with great decision and authority
 
 78 WANDEEING FIKES 
 
 to the electrician when Bromley approached with 
 Mary, and his quick and rather prominent eyes 
 focussed at once upon the girl and remained there 
 while the actor introduced her. 
 
 * ' Mr. Block, this is the lady of whom I spoke to 
 you. Miss Trefusis, may I introduce our man- 
 ager? " 
 
 1 1 A novice ? ' ' said the stout man promptly and 
 inclusively. 
 
 Mary's face had been vividly grave, as it always 
 was when she was intensely interested. But the 
 eagerness of her expression really did convey what 
 is somewhat obscurely called ' ' the play of the fea- 
 tures." As the manager spoke she smiled, and 
 then the eyes and mouth both lighted up, for there 
 was a glint of perfect teeth to flash back the light 
 in the iris. 
 
 " Very much a novice an ignoramus! " she 
 said confidently. " But I do want to learn. May 
 II " 
 
 The manager was still looking at her. He never 
 moved his eyes from her face indeed, except for 
 one sweeping glance over her figure. And he 
 spoke with the same decision he had shown to the 
 electrician. 
 
 " Yes. You can learn. It is hard work. We 
 keep them at it in this studio eh, Jeff? " 
 
 " Yes! " said Bromley, and there was a satis- 
 faction and pelief in his voice that was not ex- 
 plained to Mary until long afterwards. " Are 
 we to do any more to-day, Mr. Block ? ' 
 
 " No. Sorry I kept you all here for nothing, 
 but the light will not do." He was still looking 
 at Mary, and he spoke to her again as if out of his 
 thought. " Ever done this sort of thing before, 
 Miss Trefusis? " 
 
 " Never."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 79 
 
 " Any stage experience? " 
 
 11 None." 
 
 " We must take you from the beginning then. 
 Just walk across the studio, please." 
 
 Mary complied, a little amused, a little excited 
 still, and perhaps not so free from self -conscious- 
 ness as usual. She walked straight up the studio 
 away from the manager and the stage hands and 
 Bromley, and threaded her way in and out of the 
 broken scenery. The minute she was out of ear- 
 shot Block said to Bromley, but still with his eyes 
 on the girl, " Angelica! " 
 
 " You think she will do? " I did not like to 
 suggest it to you, but the minute she wrote to me 
 I remembered her appearance and I hoped it 
 might be the type. ' ' 
 
 4 ' Do ! I Ve hunted all over England and Ireland 
 and Scotland and Wales for her, and never found 
 her till now. Think I am likely to make a mis- 
 take? " 
 
 " No, I don't. But she has no training, as she 
 says " 
 
 " I'll train her. Besides, there is no training 
 for Angelica. All she has to do is to walk in and 
 out the pictures like that, and look like that, and 
 speak and smile like that. The deuce will be if she 
 tries to act and spoils herself. All right, Miss 
 Trefusis, that w r ill do." 
 
 " Well? " said Mary, in her clear, raised voice 
 as she came back to the group near the door. 
 
 " Rehearsal will be at ten to-morrow, unless 
 the weather changes," said Block succinctly. 
 ' * Interiors, Jeff. I shall want you at twelve, Miss 
 Trefusis. Are you in the neighbourhood? " 
 
 ' ' Yes in Genista Road, near the Club. ' ' 
 
 " Right. Come round at twelve, and I'll show 
 you what you will have to do."
 
 SO WANDERING FIRES 
 
 He turned away as abruptly as lie had entered 
 the studio, and disappeared into the gloom of the 
 old house, leaving Mary and Bromley gazing at 
 each other as if a little breathless. 
 
 " I congratulate you, Miss Trefusis! " said the 
 actor very kindly. ' ' That is the first step in the 
 right direction. If Mr. Block takes you himself 
 he will train you in half the time, and besides, it 
 proves his interest. I am so very glad ! ' 
 
 He spoke with characteristic sincerity and en- 
 couragement. Equally characteristic was the 
 girl's answer, as she looked up at him with those 
 wide, empty eyes. 
 
 "What fun! "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE Block Film Company were at the moment 
 rehearsing a picture-play written by Mr. 
 Percy Cunningham, their scenario-maker, 
 and produced by Block himself. It was called 
 " The Lady Wins," and was excellent of its kind 
 because both Cunningham and Mr. Block knew 
 the possibilities and limitations of the cinema 
 story as no lay author could do. But the film was 
 nearly finished, and the manager was anxious to 
 get straight on to the production of a book whose 
 moving-picture rights he had bought a year or so 
 ago, and of which Cunningham had prepared a 
 scenario that made the wretched author thirst for 
 his blood. It had been a very popular book, a 
 " best seller " on both sides of the Atlantic, and 
 might prove a gold-mine if properly filmed which 
 is by no means to say that it resembled the original 
 tale at all. Unfortunately it was not easy to cast, 
 and one of the secrets of Block's success had been 
 his patience and determination to have the right 
 faces and figures on the screen for his plays, and 
 the right atmosphere as well. Much of the plot 
 hung on the character of a young and very beau- 
 tiful girl, whose part was not so much in its own 
 action as to form the central figure round which 
 the other people produced the drama. Young and 
 beautiful girls of the type of " Angelica " were 
 not at once to be found, despite the professional 
 beauties on and off the stage who were pretty 
 much at Mr. Block's disposal, since he did not 
 
 81
 
 82 WANDEEING FIRES 
 
 mind paying for what he wanted. He was, how- 
 ever, equally positive that he would not pay for 
 what he did not want, and the production of 
 " Heaven's Daughter " was delayed by the insig- 
 nificant fact that the Maimies, and Phyllis 's, and 
 Dulcies who passed in review before him came out 
 on the screen with podgy faces, or dental smiles, 
 or lined eyes. There is but little make-up beyond 
 No. 5 grease-paint allowed in cinema plays, and 
 colouring has to be discounted. Deprive Miss 
 Dulcie, or the fair Phyllis, of her legitimate effects 
 behind the footlights, and the cruel searching of 
 the camera reveals the fact that she depends for 
 expression on blue eyes and rosy cheeks; or the 
 girls who had the expression were already too 
 worn by emotion to stand the test of the reels. 
 They were no longer young girls on the screen; 
 they showed lines and sharpened outlines. Mr. 
 Block swept them aside as fruitless effort, and 
 held up the production of the projected master- 
 piece. He could not find an * l Angelica. ' ' 
 
 Into this impasse stepped Mary Trefusis in her 
 mourning, with the condensed vitality of her breed 
 and upbringing in every line of her face and figure. 
 She was really a wonderful girl, as Mrs. Smythe 
 had felt, and as Jefferson Bromley had felt, and 
 as Mr. Block felt top when she came straight to 
 him across the studio with the very atmosphere 
 he had been hunting for twelve months, and the 
 careless statement that she knew nothing and 
 wanted to learn. If she had only been walking-on 
 at a theatre she would have been less impossible ; 
 but, on the other hand, she might have been more 
 so. A girl sometimes learned more stage tricks 
 than her art. He consoled himself with that, and 
 accepted her and the chance of success with the 
 prompt decision that usually secured it.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 83 
 
 Maiy was by no means to be pitied at this stage 
 of her existence, though she had lost home and 
 fortune and the only relative of whom she was 
 really fond, with the exception of Lady Alex. 
 Lady Alex she hated, and loved the more because 
 she hated. For her father she had had a tolerant 
 fondness that was nearer tenderness than any- 
 thing she had experienced as yet. But even the 
 sting of his sudden death was mitigated by the 
 new experiences crowding into her life. She had 
 good health, and as much strength as goes with 
 her breed and upbringing, though she could never 
 compete in this respect with the agricultural class, 
 or the robuster type that had outstayed her in 
 munitions. It sufficed her, however, for the strain 
 and racket of her new work, and the excitement of 
 the position in which she found herself took the 
 place of the " good time " which she had de- 
 manded as her inheritance of modern youth and 
 beauty and position. Everything was so new as 
 to be amusing, even the living in a toy house with 
 Gladys Smythe and associating with a totally dif- 
 erent class to any she had ever known, even in her 
 war work. 
 
 A working day at the studio began when the 
 light would allow, since the company were depend- 
 ent on the sun. Sometimes it was at ten o'clock 
 in the morning, and sometimes not until two or 
 three after midday. Mary went to The Grange 
 before the time appointed by Block because she 
 wanted to watch, and was allowed to stand about 
 amongst the broken scenery by reason of her ac- 
 quaintance with Bromley though this she did net 
 know. He secured many privileges for her, and 
 safeguarded her so unobtrusively that it never 
 reached her consciousness until she lost it. 
 
 " If you stand back here, Miss Trefusis, you
 
 84 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 will be out of the way of the operator, " he said, 
 when she appeared the morning after her inter- 
 view with Block. * ' You must keep out of the pic- 
 ture, you know." 
 
 " I am so excited! Are you going to act? " 
 
 " I hope so." The cinema lead gave a curious 
 twist to his humorous lips. " We are just going 
 to begin " 
 
 ' * Now, Jeff ! Now, Jeff ! ' The manager 's quick 
 eyes had seen whither his leading man had strayed, 
 and his quick voice called him to order more 
 sharply than usual. " This is the scene in the 
 ante-room to the ball-room. You come on with 
 Lady Lavender in a minute. Miss Egan! over 
 there, please, for your entrance. Now the dancers 
 in the ball-room beyond Miss Grey, you are danc- 
 ing with Mr. Everard, and Miss Ward with Mr. 
 Norrys. ' * 
 
 " Mr. Block! " Mary's original guide was Miss 
 Grey, and she was under the disadvantage of wear- 
 ing a stage ball dress in the broad daylight, 
 which made her look thin and rather worn. ' * Are 
 we to dance the fox-trot or the hesitation waltz 
 here? " 
 
 " Modern dances, eh? " said Block, turning 
 quickly at the suggestion. " Yes, I suppose it's 
 more natural. Which of you can fox-trot? " 
 
 * ' I can ! ' ' Miss Ward spoke up with confidence. 
 " So can Mr. Everard. Can you fox-trot, Mr. 
 Norrys? " 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't." Mr. Norrys looked 
 shame-faced. He was the same lean youth whose 
 river clothes had not fitted him, and who had made 
 a bad failure of talking to Mary at Restawhile 
 when her attention was absorbed with Jeff Brom- 
 ley. She did not like his sloping shoulders any 
 better in evening-dress, but she was good-natured
 
 WANDERING FIRES 85 
 
 enough to be sorry for his evident chagrin over 
 the fox-trot. 
 
 " H'm can you teach him, Miss Ward! " said 
 Block shortly. 
 
 " I'll try." The girl looked dubious, and draw- 
 ing her partner aside began to show him a few 
 impatient steps. " We'd better waltz it's 
 safer, ' ' Mary heard her say, and wondered at the 
 importance that seemed to attach to the incident. 
 She did not realise that a cinema actor who cannot 
 do any mortal thing has failed in his profession, 
 just as a journalist who does not know the 
 technique of the whole universe has failed in his. 
 
 The other couple, Ellen Grey and Everard, took 
 up their position at the back of the ante-room and 
 began to move across and across the open doorway 
 in the tortuous fashion of the new dances, so that 
 they should appear to be going round the ball- 
 room. 
 
 " It won't do," said Block, after a quick survey. 
 * ' We want another couple. ' ' 
 
 " Could not Miss Egan and I do a turn before 
 we come on, as we have to enter from the ante- 
 room? " Bromley suggested. 
 
 11 Yes, you might. You can do those heathen 
 shuffles, I suppose? " said the manager, with a 
 glance at Ellen Grey rocking past the entrance to 
 the ball-room. 
 
 ' ' I have tried most of the modern dances, ' ' said 
 Bromley, laughing a little. He put his arm behind 
 the leading lady rather than round her, and guided 
 her easily in the confined space that was all they 
 could use. Miss Egan was of the sharpened type 
 of good looks very prevalent in modern comedy. 
 She was a good actress and well known, and had 
 clean features and dark hair. Mary did not think 
 her so pretty as May Moon, who appeared to have
 
 86 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 loft the company, but she approved entirely of 
 Bromley's dancing. It seemed there was nothing 
 he could not do, and do well. She watched him 
 pass the entrance once or twice and then lead his 
 partner through into the ante-room with a natu- 
 ralness that it was difficult to realise was only very 
 perfect acting. 
 
 " Very tired? "he said to the Lady Lavender of 
 the film, and Mary still thought that he was simply 
 speaking as he might have done to herself. She 
 was rather staggered to hear Miss Egan reply: 
 " The duchess fills her rooms too full. I am thank- 
 ful to get out of that crowd ! ' ' 
 
 " Come and sit down for a few minutes." 
 Bromley moved a chair a little nearer the camera 
 and suddenly turned to Block. " Am I over the 
 limit? " he said. 
 
 ' ' No, my dear boy, no. Go on. Take it a little 
 faster. They have got to go on dancing behind 
 you till the music stops. ' ' 
 
 ' * I want to have a little talk with you about our 
 future." Bromley was speaking faster now, as 
 he seated himself beside his lady. 
 
 " Our future! " Miss Egan's expressive move- 
 ment timed the words. 
 
 " Yes, ours. Don't hold me off any longer, 
 Lavender. We must come to an understanding. 
 I simply can't stand this any longer. ..." 
 
 So the rehearsal had begun! Mary suddenly 
 remembered how easily he had talked with her on 
 the grass at Bestawhile about the fictitious char- 
 acters with whom they had been playing tennis, 
 and realised why Jefferson Bromley was one of 
 the best cinema actors of his day. He was never 
 at a loss for dialogue to bring action naturally into 
 place, and his action was dramatic enough to tell 
 its own story. She began to grow absorbed in
 
 WANDERING FIRES 87 
 
 the mere invention of the principals and to wonder 
 if she would ever be able to carry on an extem- 
 porary conversation like this. The studio grew 
 hotter and hotter with the increasing day, and 
 when the camera was brought into position the 
 work had already been strenuous. Block took his 
 place behind the operator, and got the full scene 
 into focus, the actors started again from the be- 
 ginning, and after a breathless moment the man- 
 ager spoke ; 
 
 " Are you ready? Go! " 
 
 Mary unconsciously clasped her hands as the 
 whirring of the reel struck on her ear. She knew, 
 from Bromley's instruction, that a mistake meant 
 many hundreds of pounds, and that a picture must 
 not be taken over again if by any possibility it 
 could be avoided. It seemed to her marvellous 
 that the actors themselves were not paralysed as 
 she had been at Restawhile by the knowledge that 
 each movement was being recorded by the whir- 
 ring demon which was ticking them off; yet they 
 were going through the scene with an ease and 
 naturalness that would by-and-bye seem like life 
 on the screen. Each movement was timed, and 
 the speeches seemed to have been almost learned 
 by heart at rehearsal, but once or twice Mr. Block 
 said, " Keep it up, Jeff! " or "Go on, Miss 
 Egan! " and the dramatic moment was a little 
 more prolonged for the manager's satisfaction. 
 He knew when to intensify a picture, and Bromley 
 at least was never failing to the demands made 
 upon his endurance. 
 
 When the big scene was over the operator was 
 once more in requisition for what is called a 
 11 still " for advertisement purposes the two 
 principals moving nearer to the lens, the focus 
 altered, and the picture taken as a " close-up,"
 
 88 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 to be repeated later with an ordinary camera. 
 This occupied more time, and it was past twelve 
 o'clock when Block called: " Now come along, 
 Miss Trefusis," and Mary followed him out of the 
 studio to his own room, or office, where she was to 
 have her first lesson. She then found that she was 
 very hot, for in her excitement she had not noticed 
 that the temperature of the studio was almost un- 
 bearable, though she had removed her coat. Most 
 of the cast being in evening-dress, they had not 
 felt it so much, but Bromley, who had followed the 
 manager downstairs, dabbed his painted forehead 
 free of moisture with a silk handkerchief. 
 
 " Swilling weather," said Block dryly. " Send 
 for two lemon squashes, Jeff. None for you till 
 you've finished, Miss Trefusis! Now walk across 
 the room and take that book off the table and open 
 it. Mind your hands! ' 
 
 The chief difficulty of a novice to film work is 
 with the arms and hands. Mary suddenly found 
 herself embarrassed with her own, which seemed 
 to have become innumerable instead of the ordi- 
 nary two. She walked too quickly and was called 
 back; she moved her arms like semaphores and 
 did not know what to do with her hands the minute 
 she stood still. It was Bromley who always came 
 to her rescue. 
 
 11 Make for some place in the room where you 
 can do something, Miss Trefusis," he advised. 
 " If you go to the fireplace lean your arm on the 
 mantelpiece it will help you. If you sit down, 
 choose a chair with arms and run your hands alon.^ 
 them. Never let them get self-conscious with idle- 
 
 ness. 
 
 j i 
 
 11 I wasn't nearly so bad when I was on the ter- 
 race at Restawhile ! ' 
 
 " You had a tennis-bat in your hand, and you
 
 WANDERING FIRES 89 
 
 were listening to me. Now come across the room 
 as if you entered to meet me you are just home 
 from school, and I am your father, welcoming 
 you. May we, Mr. Block I " 
 
 * * Go along ! ' * said the manager laconically. 
 Bromley advanced a few steps easily into the 
 
 middle of the room, holding out his hands. 
 
 " Why, my dear Angelica, how you have 
 grown! " he said. " I should hardly recognise the 
 little girl I left at the Convent four years ago. 
 Come up to me more slowly, Miss Trefusis; 
 don't rush. Now I hope you are going to be very 
 happy in your new home ! " 
 
 As he held out his hands to her she made an 
 instinctive movement to put her own into them 
 anything to get rid of those hands ! looking up at 
 him for instruction. The hands clung to his a little 
 nervously, like a child's who cannot walk alone, 
 but the advance was a wonderful improvement on 
 the awkwardness of her movements when by her- 
 self. For the next ten minutes Bromley walked 
 about with her, encouraging, prompting, throwing 
 in a sentence to carry on the scene, and giving 
 her confidence, though he was tired enough with 
 his own work to have earned a rest; and Block 
 watched them as a cat does a mouse, beneath his 
 bushy eyebrows. 
 
 " Yes, that's more like it," he said, as the actor 
 gently piloted the girl out of the picture to show 
 her how to exit. ' * If you '11 go on like that, Miss 
 Trefusis, we can make use of you." 
 
 * * It 's all very well when Mr. Bromley is acting 
 with me," said Mary, with terrible frankness. 
 " But what am I to do when I have to move 
 alone? " 
 
 " Go on moving as you did when he was there," 
 said Block dryly.
 
 90 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " I get lost, and I don't know where to go next, 
 and I always fancy that awful thing clicking at 
 me as it did in the studio ! " 
 
 " You won't hear tha.t for some weeks yet," said 
 the manager grimly, and Bromley laughed. " You 
 are not fit to waste films on yet awhile. Now walk 
 into the room from the door, and look round as you 
 might naturally do coming to a new home and 
 interested in it. Go and examine things if you 
 like, but for God's sake don't jerk! " 
 
 " What did you do when you first got into the 
 little house you are staying in? " suggested Brom- 
 ley in a lower voice. ' ' You were very interested, 
 you know you must have looked about the 
 rooms." 
 
 " I don't think I did," said the enfant terrible 
 he had taken in hand. " I was much too interested 
 in myself to think of the rooms, except that they 
 w r ere too crowded. I just sat on the sofa and 
 talked." 
 
 ' ' Then sit on the sofa and tell me what you think 
 of this whole house The Grange." 
 
 Mary laughed and dropped her lithe young body 
 on to the hard couch, without stiffness or self- 
 consciousness. " It must have been a nice house 
 once," she said. " "What was this room? The 
 library? " She tilted back her head and looked 
 up at the moulded ceiling. Then her quick eyes 
 detected the marks of bookcases left on the walls. 
 " Yes, it must have been the library," she said, 
 springing up, and crossed the centre space with- 
 out thought to run her hand over the defacement 
 of the paper. " Look here, Mr. Bromley! " 
 
 The two men nodded at each other. The girl's 
 foreshortened face and throat lifted to the ceiling 
 had been lovely, and her upspring from the couch
 
 WANDERING FIRES 91 
 
 was better than all Miss Egan's training. If only 
 she could repeat it! 
 
 1 ' Look here, my boy, ' ' Block said in confidence 
 to Bromley later. " We shall have to keep her 
 from too much training rather than too little, if 
 she is to do any good. Give her something to do, 
 and leave her to do it in her own way, and she'll 
 be all right. But she's got to walk in and out of 
 the pictures, and not be taking entrances and 
 exits." 
 
 11 She is just so lovely that art can't improve 
 on nature, ' ' Bromley agreed frankly. ' * Of course, 
 if she has to act in other parts she will have a long 
 and difficult training; but for * Angelica ' I agree 
 that she is better as she is." 
 
 1 ' Ah, if she has to act but I doubt whether she 
 ever would," said the manager thoughtfully. 
 * * For Angelica she will do with very little tuition. 
 And if I wanted her for anything else I should try 
 to make that her natural pose also." 
 
 " We can't torture her to make her cry, or 
 tickle her to make her laugh! " said Bromley, 
 laughing himself. 
 
 " She'll never be any use without the real im- 
 pulse. If she had to play a love-scene we should 
 have to get the fellow to make love to her in earn- 
 est first." 
 
 " And then she might not like him! " 
 
 11 She will be my success or my despair," said 
 Block with conviction. " And," he added to him- 
 self, ' l you are my trump card ! ' ' 
 
 Mary found a letter awaiting her when she got 
 home from rehearsal which had followed her from 
 Brown's Hotel to Restawhile, and on to Laurel 
 Lodge. It was in a masculine handwriting that 
 she did not know, but she was so interested in tell-
 
 92 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 ing Mrs. Smythe about her morning's experience 
 that she sat with it in her hand, unopened, until 
 later in the afternoon. Gladys Smythe was a de- 
 lightful audience, because she lived and breathed 
 and drank in Mary from the moment the girl en- 
 tered the house, and Mary talked to her eyes and 
 her unspoken questions and could well do without 
 masculine correspondence. When she did open 
 the letter indeed, she was rather puzzled to re- 
 member who Phillip Durham might be it was 
 signed Phillip Durham until he referred directly 
 to her neighbourly action in giving him a lift from 
 Paddington station. Then she remembered, and 
 thought what a long time ago it seemed, and how 
 little it mattered compared with her absorbing ad- 
 ventures of to-day, and she wondered why he had 
 written at all. Durham did not ask to see her 
 again he only said he should always look forward 
 to the chance, and he did not believe in lives touch- 
 ing like the circles on water and fading entirely 
 away from each other. Was she a believer in 
 destiny? He was a bit of a fatalist himself. 
 " Even ships that pass in the night may hail each 
 other in passing. I have sent up a signal. . . ." 
 
 Mary's actions with regard to men were gen- 
 erally oblique. They resembled a game' at bil- 
 liards, for if she struck one ball she cannoned off 
 on to another. Durham's letter had the effect 
 upon her of causing her to write to Eddie Thorne 
 instead of answering it. She had heard from 
 Thorne at the time of her father's death but not 
 since, and he knew nothing of her subsequent pro- 
 ceedings. It had not been the conventional letter 
 of condolence because Eddie was too warm-hearted 
 for that ; he lived very much upon impulse, and his 
 impulses were generally kindly ones. Mary had 
 not written again because she was subtly aware
 
 WANDERING FIRES 93 
 
 that he would not be entirely in favour of her 
 taking her own loved way and leaving the boun- 
 daries of her home and family. They were not 
 very safe boundaries because she had always had 
 a way of overstepping them ; but at least they were 
 there, and now there were none at all. According 
 to her creed, Eddie ought to have backed her up 
 whatever her waywardness because he was her 
 pal ; but her last meeting with him had revealed to 
 her disgusted surprise that he could be quite de- 
 cided in differing from her about Major Durham, 
 for instance. She remembered with little set teeth 
 and a fine smile that she had never told him her 
 further adventures of the motor-car and the Stores 
 because she had been summoned to her father's 
 death-bed in place of lunching with him at the 
 Bath. It would be soothing to tell Eddie of these 
 incidents, as well as her enterprise in going into 
 cinema work, and it was only decent of him to come 
 and see her and say good-bye before she went to 
 Dartmoor with the company, as she eventually 
 meant to do. Mary enjoyed the writing of that 
 letter, in the which she bragged a little of her in- 
 dependence in starting life against the wishes of 
 her family, and her success in being taken on by a 
 good firm without any help. That it was not in- 
 tolerable in its egotism was simply due to the fact 
 that it was written by Mary and breathed Mary 
 throughout, vital, vivid, mad with the joy of living 
 and the excitement of new action. 
 Thorne replied characteristically. 
 
 " DEAR OLD THING, 
 
 " Your letter was quite a shock. Most awfully 
 sorry for your bad news, and think you are a 
 real plucked 'un to go in for work. Wish it wasn 't 
 necessary though. What are all your families
 
 94 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 doing to let you I I will give you my opinion when 
 we meet, but you are only stretching my leg as 
 you are much too clever to want advice from me. 
 I am just back from Henley. Stayed with my 
 sailor brother, and had a couple of nice days. I 
 expect to be in London the week after next. I 
 wonder if your company will be there then? If so 
 we might have some lunch or dinner together. I 
 enclose you some tickets for Roehampton. I don't 
 know whether you will care for them if not, tear 
 them up. But I know you are near by, and per- 
 haps you would like to have a look at the polo 
 there. I expect they are still playing, and you 
 get some very nice tea there. The Club is open 
 on Sundays, but no polo. Hope you are fit and 
 well. Best of luck. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " E. THOKNE." 
 
 The letter was written from Upcott, his father 's 
 place. Mary promptly wrote back demanding his 
 time and his personal attendance on her the minute 
 he reached London, and then took Mrs. Smythe to 
 the Club with the passes he had sent. They were 
 too late for the polo after all, for the last Satur- 
 day's match had been the last; but the " nice tea >: 
 recommended by Thome was very enjoyable in the 
 walled garden of the Club, where the frilled beau- 
 ties of pink hollyhocks and the pentstemons were 
 arranged in masses of colour against the old brick- 
 work as if flung there for an artist's benefit. 
 Gladys Smythe enjoyed it all so genuinely that 
 Mary's own capacity, never a mean quality, was 
 doubled. 
 
 ' ' H 'm ! " she remarked, tilting her chair back 
 to survey the soft, sunshiny prospect of terrace 
 and rambler roses and old stone flags, " I quite
 
 WANDERING FIRES 95 
 
 see why Eddie is a member of this Club plenty of 
 shady corners and dark places to give him a 
 chance! " And she laughed .carelessly in the 
 sunny afternoon, her lazy child's eyes on the de- 
 licious blush of the hollyhocks and the poppy-bed, 
 where a great tabby cat was sunning himself also. 
 
 " That is one of your friends from your old 
 life? " said Mrs. Smythe jealously. She would 
 fain have absorbed Mary into the cinema world 
 and her own adoration and blotted out the rival 
 claims of a past in which she had no share. 
 
 " He's the man who sent me the passes Mr. 
 Thome." 
 
 11 Is he very fascinating? More so than Mr. 
 Bromley? " 
 
 Mary tilted her chair back an inch further, to 
 the danger of her equilibrium, and looked up at the 
 fleecy sky and the flight of a bird going west. 
 " Eddie is not particularly fascinating that I 
 know of," she said musingly. " I never thought 
 about it. He's the best pal I ever struck and the 
 best companion. He's just Eddie Thome." 
 
 " Is he very good-looking? As good-looking as 
 Mr. Bromley? " 
 
 " Eddie good-looking? I don't know. I like his 
 face too much to know. He 's so alive ! ' ' 
 
 " Clever? " 
 
 " Only as Satan is." Mary laughed. " Eddie's 
 a bit of a nib, you know ! ' ' 
 
 " Mr. Bromley is clever. Look how wonder- 
 fully he sketches. I think he can do anything! ' 
 
 11 I don't think Eddie can do anything except 
 play cricket and sit a horse. He told me once that 
 he did not care to do anything unless he couldn't 
 be beaten at it. He's at the top of the tree in 
 what he does do even in flirting! ' 
 
 " You can't like him as well as Mr. Bromley! "
 
 96 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 Mary 's chair came to the ground and stood level. 
 She sat up and looked at Gladys Smythe as if she 
 almost resented her. 
 
 11 You can't compare them," was all she said; 
 but little Mrs. Smythe was quite satisfied. She 
 construed it as being entirely in Jefferson Brom- 
 ley's favour. 
 
 The actor had established himself as a friend at 
 Laurel Lodge, and was on a footing of easy inti- 
 macy there. He would never misuse it, and he was 
 welcomed by both girls as if he were a large and 
 kindly brother to take care of them. He often 
 called for Mary on his way to the studio he had 
 rooms in Roehampton, nearer to the Lane and 
 sometimes he brought her home when the work 
 was over. She did not miss the safety of her 
 former circumstances while Bromley thrust his 
 broad shoulders between her and the world, and 
 she accepted the comfortable defence from behind 
 which she boasted of being a working girl. The 
 work, like everything else, was a game. Mary 
 Trefusis was- still playing at life. 
 
 But the studio and the people in it, and Mrs. 
 Smythe and her tiny house, had all become far 
 more real to her than her surroundings before her 
 father's death by the time that Thorne was in 
 London again and proposed coming down to see 
 her. Mary could not lunch with him as he sug- 
 gested, owing to her work; but he came down in 
 the afternoon and found her coolly waiting on 
 the doorstep to be taken to tea at the Club, and 
 arrange other engagements between them as she 
 could. Eddie had come in a taxi, and before he 
 could get out of it Mary was at the door. 
 
 " I'll get in," she said, suiting the action to the 
 word even as he tried to pass her and hold the door 
 open. " It's too hot for words, and you can drive
 
 WANDERING FIRES 97 
 
 me up to the Club. We've been sweating at it all 
 the morning. Eddie ! did you ever think I should 
 be a genuine working girl? " 
 
 She had both her hands in his, and was sitting 
 close to him in the cab, her beautiful speaking face 
 raised to his intent eyes. Thorne did not only look 
 at people, he appeared to be looking into them at 
 times. He was frowning and smiling together in 
 his own characteristic fashion, and he seemed to 
 find something in Mary's face that dissatisfied 
 him. The work had told on her, and she was paler 
 than she had been when he last saw her in London, 
 though she never had much colour. 
 
 " What have you been doing to yourself, 
 Molly? " he said. " You haven't been fretting, 
 have you? " 
 
 11 No ! " She shook her head and smiled at him. 
 " I'm afraid I haven't much. About father, you 
 mean? I do miss him, of course, but it has all been 
 so exciting. I'm getting right into the swing of it, 
 and I am beginning to like the job." 
 
 " Don't overdo it," Thorne said very kindly. 
 11 You oughtn't to look like this." 
 
 11 How? " 
 
 " Like this ! " he repeated, with the devil's own 
 smile beginning to grow in his eyes, and he touched 
 her white cheek with his finger. Mary's lips 
 parted in a little laugh and showed the deep dim- 
 ple. Eddie's impertinences always fell harmless 
 before her derision, and she escaped danger be- 
 cause she never admitted it. 
 
 "I'm getting the regular cinema look," she said 
 carelessly. " You must go and see all the pictures 
 I'm in when they are released, Eddie. You'll be 
 proud to know me one day, when I'm a star! " 
 
 "I'm always proud to know you." 
 
 There was something a little too serious about
 
 98 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 Eddie to-day. He declined to be drawn into re- 
 crimination, though she felt his disapproval 
 through the mask of his good humour, and chafed 
 to rouse him to open retort. 
 
 " Eddie, do you remember that day when I was 
 to have lunched with you at the Bath? The day 
 poor father was taken so ill and I was telegraphed 
 for? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 * ' I had two adventures that morning. I meant 
 to have told you at lunch. I got into a car at the 
 Corner because I couldn't get a cab, and the man 
 drove me to the Stores. ' ' 
 
 " Was that the adventure? " 
 
 " Don't be a garden ass. He was rather nice 
 not very young and he told me that I should not 
 have driven with him if I had thought it was quite 
 all right. I wonder ! >: The great clear eyes held a 
 demon of speculation. 
 
 ' ' Molly, you are asking for trouble ! ' ' 
 
 * ' And then he asked me who I was lunching with 
 at least, he wangled for it." 
 
 " Did you tell him? " said Thome quickly. 
 There never was any knowing what Mary would 
 do. 
 
 " I said it didn't matter it was only my hus- 
 band! " 
 
 Thorne suddenly laughed. His momentary se- 
 riousness gave way to the devil's mirth again, and 
 he held Mary's hands a little tighter. 
 
 " Would you like it? " he said. 
 
 " My dear boy, I'd as soon marry a weather- 
 cock! " 
 
 He was instantly huffed. And indeed a chance 
 truth was apt to stab him much deeper than it 
 would a more sluggish nature. Eddie was as
 
 WANDERING FIRES 99 
 
 highly-strung as a racehorse, and as vulnerable as 
 a snake that has cast its skin. 
 
 ' ' Thank you ! " he said shortly, and dropped the 
 girl's hands to open the door, for the cab had 
 paused inside the entrance to the Club. They got 
 out and left it to wait, walking on to the Club-house 
 and through the building to the garden beyond. 
 The little tables along the verandah were all full, 
 though it was out of the season, and they had to 
 find one in the walled garden beyond, where Mary 
 had sat with Gladys Smythe. She preferred it to 
 the crowd, for she wanted to talk. It was satis- 
 factory to see Thorne a little ruffled, and she went 
 on with her reminiscences as they sat down. 
 
 " Then I went to the jewellery department of 
 the Stores about something, and there was a hope- 
 less mug there buying gauds for his fancy girl. 
 So I advised him what to get her for her muff 
 rather a pretty chain and he followed me down 
 in the lift, and got me a cab, and said he shouldn't 
 part from the chain after all, and looked exactly 
 like a slab of soft soap. How's that for a morn- 
 ing's work? " 
 
 " Well, I don't admire your taste! " said Eddie 
 with his broadest accent and most Eton drawl. 
 He had an atrocious mode of speech when it suited 
 him, and he generally intensified it when annoyed. 
 And yet Mary was suddenly aware that for some 
 weeks she had been associating with men and 
 women who belonged to a different social world 
 men who had not been to public schools, and who 
 were not gentlemen in the sense that Thorne was a 
 gentleman. Perhaps they were better men. She 
 told herself fiercely and passionately that they 
 were better men than the one before her, well- 
 dressed, well-groomed, the smart, clean man of the
 
 100 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 world though he was, and * * a bit of a nib ! ' She 
 almost hated Eddie Thome for bringing back a 
 whiff of the world she had so carelessly flung aside, 
 and making her vaguely discomfited for the dif- 
 ference in the cinema people. She looked away 
 from him, up into the shredded clouds of the sum- 
 mer sky, with eyes full of discontent for earth, and 
 something pulsed up there like a hovering bird, 
 far away in the blue and white. 
 
 " There's an aeroplane," she said idly. " I 
 wish I could fly. It must be so grand to get out of 
 the world sometimes! " 
 
 " I don't," said Thome frankly. " I am quite 
 contented with the world and I shall never fly 
 because it makes me sick to look down from a 
 height." 
 
 " Poor thing! " 
 
 " Oh, be as scornful as you like, Molly. But I 
 shan't offer to fly away with you all the same." 
 
 " I haven't asked you. You would be sure to be 
 shocked if I hadn 't been properly introduced to the 
 pilot ! We came up against this before, that night 
 at Brown's when I told you about Major Durham. 
 (He's written to me, by the way!) And you are 
 the last person who ought to talk to me. I only 
 want to amuse myself, but your adventures always 
 have a second chapter, Eddie ' to be continued in 
 our next ' ! I hate a man who says yes for himself 
 and no for other people ! ' ' 
 
 Her angry speech had the misfortune of having 
 blundered into truth. She knew Thome very 
 slightly after all, but Mary's instinct was very 
 shrewd and very true. It happened that at the 
 very moment of her accusation she slung herself 
 round in her chair to look after the flickering aero- 
 plane, turning her shoulder to her companion in- 
 tentionally; and a woman with level-lidded eyes
 
 WANDERING FIRES 101 
 
 at the next table met Thome's glance across the 
 grass, as she had been trying to do for some 
 minutes. She was not a young woman, or very 
 good-looking, but she had experience. In an in- 
 stant Eddie's own eyes were considerably darker 
 than even Nature had made them, and they met 
 and held those under the level lids. His face lit 
 up with the flame of wickedness that seemed al- 
 ways at his elbow to cast a glow upon him, and if 
 Mary had not been there an introduction would 
 have followed, somehow, after the methods of the 
 male animal. But Mary was there; and he was 
 very moral for Mary. 
 
 " You are not a man, Molly," he said reprov- 
 ingly, just as he had said it at Brown's Hotel, 
 " and it is no use thinking you can do what we do." 
 Then he leaned forward and touched her cheek 
 with the evening paper he had bought on the way 
 down. " The nape of your neck is very pretty 
 where the hair grows in rings," he said, " but 
 your face is prettier still. Turn round and let me 
 look at you while I can, and don't be so ratty ! " 
 
 " You are a dog in the manger," said Mary, 
 with brutal truth. * ' You would like to shut us all 
 up in harems whether you were the Sultan or not." 
 She turned round, however, and gave him the face 
 he coolly praised. And indeed he said to himself, 
 " You are the loveliest thing I ever saw! " with a 
 certain regret, because he knew that she was un- 
 obtainable far more so than the woman at the 
 next table and Eddie's pulses were never quite 
 steady before beauty. Mary's pale face had 
 flushed with a mixture of emotions, and her eyes 
 were like a thunder-storm. He was making her 
 half dissatisfied with the life she had chosen, and 
 then attacking her vaunted liberty, and she had 
 nothing on which to fall back.
 
 102 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Come for a walk round the grounds," he said 
 abruptly. " If you have finished tea? " 
 
 "Yes. Can I smoke?" 
 
 He lit a cigarette, hesitated a moment for chance 
 onlookers, and then put it gently between her lips. 
 In the surprise of the moment she accepted it, 
 not recognising the encouragement to a man of 
 Thome's stamp, or that already some of her de- 
 fences were down by her own boast of herself as a 
 " working girl." Mary's mind, by no means ig- 
 norant, was still so clean as to make Eddie's in- 
 comprehensible to her. She thought, after a 
 minute's consideration, that he had been rather 
 impertinent, and liked him none the less. It car- 
 ried out her contention that he allowed himself too 
 much liberty, and her too little. 
 
 The woman at the next table watched beneath 
 her level lids, and comprehended. 
 
 ' * I know why you belong to this Club, Eddie, ' ' 
 Mary said, as they strolled through the scrolled 
 iron gates and along the path under the high wall. 
 * * I said so to the girl I 'm living with when we had 
 tea here it's because of the dark corners! " 
 
 He did not answer, but he heard only too well 
 what she said. His eyes were on the sunny golf- 
 course, where two men were halving the last hole 
 in a close finish. In a few minutes they would put 
 up their clubs and go in to tea and the place would 
 be deserted. Thorne strolled on by Mary's side 
 through a bit of shrubbery and out on to the course 
 and under some great trees that bordered it, and 
 his emotions were quite possibly divided between 
 the level-lidded woman and Mary Trefusis, with 
 a bias towards Mary because she was nearest at 
 hand though less vulnerable. 
 
 " Molly, how long are you in town? " 
 
 " I don't know. The company go up to Dart-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 103 
 
 moor at the end of the month, but I may be here 
 longer to train. How long are you up for? " 
 
 For the first time it struck her as a little odd 
 that he should be in London in the dead season. 
 He ought to have been in a dozen other places in 
 Scotland, at some country-house party, yachting, 
 anywhere that idle men go when unhampered by 
 a profession. He could not yet be playing cricket 
 on account of his health, and perhaps for the same 
 reason he could not stand long days with the guns. 
 A sudden memory of the tale of that Russian 
 dancer pricked her mind; but she glanced at his 
 thin, hard face and did not ask. When it came 
 to the point few people asked questions of Eddie 
 Thome. 
 
 " I shall be in town a week or so," he said. 
 " You can come and dine somewhere one evening, 
 of course! How are you managing do you get 
 any pay during your training? ' He slipped his 
 hand into her arm with a kindly little pressure. 
 " You don't mind my asking? " 
 
 * ' Not a bit. ' ' Eddie was acting like a pal again. 
 She forgot the cigarette even now in her mouth. 
 " I had about twenty pounds left of my allowance 
 and from some things I sold. If the worst comes 
 to the worst I must pawn my watch. I've never 
 pawned anything how does one do it? " Her 
 cheek was suddenly tucked into the dimple, and 
 the rollicking light of adventure came back to her 
 face. " I suppose I shall just scrape through. I 
 get paid when we go to Dartmoor." 
 
 " Don't be silly." He spoke very decisively. 
 " Of course you can't go about without any money. 
 Look here you must let me lend you some. Yes, 
 you must." The muscular hand tightened on her 
 arm. " I'm going to give you forty pounds." He 
 took a pocket-book from his coat and coolly
 
 104 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 counted out some notes which he must have 
 brought down for the purpose. " Got anywhere 
 to put them? " he said. 
 
 1 1 I say, I can 't ! " She looked at him with those 
 frank, unclouded eyes that only wanted to take a 
 hint from him. It seemed a natural thing to lend 
 money to a pal she would have done the same 
 herself for another girl, or even a man, had the 
 positions been reversed. But she had a feeling, 
 younger than most of Mary's emotions, that he 
 might himself condemn her for accepting it even 
 while he offered, and she almost asked him what 
 she ought to do. 
 
 " You've simply got to take it," said Thome, 
 and his voice from being decisive had grown coax- 
 ing. " Now don't be childish there's a dear. 
 Put it away and don't think any more about it. 
 Only don't lose it! ' He laughed a little as Mary 
 slipped the notes into the front of her black gown. 
 " You are much too pretty to be hard up, espe- 
 cially with this crowd you've got into. What's 
 become of that tall girl who played the heroine 
 at Restawhile ? Is she still with you ? ' ' 
 
 " No, and I've always forgotten to ask about 
 her. I think she wasn't suited to this picture. 
 An awful lot depends on the casting of a movie." 
 
 Thome turned and looked at her deliberately. 
 Perhaps he was wondering how she would look on 
 the screen, and whether she were not suited to 
 most pictures. The low, hazy light lay warm upon 
 her breast and her slight black figure, and that 
 pale, vivid face was none the less fair for its 
 pallor. The golfers had gone on before them 
 across the polo ground they could see the two 
 pairs of knickerbockers vanishing in the direction 
 of the garden as they turned also and sauntered 
 along in their wake.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 105 
 
 " I shall have to get back," Thome said, glanc- 
 ing at the watch on his wrist. " I have promised 
 to play poker with some men to-night, as you 
 wouldn't come and dine." 
 
 11 You didn't ask me it was lunch, and I 
 couldn't get off. Where are you dining? ' 
 
 1 ' Oh, anywhere ! ' ' He spoke so carelessly that 
 she instantly suspected an engagement and sup- 
 pressed a smile. The indifference of his tone had 
 been almost brusque a little overdone. 
 
 " I hope that waiting taxi won't ruin you," she 
 said. " I have grown awfully economical since I 
 began to depend on myself you wouldn't know 
 me. I find myself picking up the hairpins off the 
 floor for fear I should lose them! ' 
 
 ' * I say, Molly, I hate that for you ! ' ' 
 
 They had reached the little piece of shrubbery 
 again, and a minute later would emerge on the 
 open garden path. Thorne stopped and took hold 
 of the girl by her arms, looking down at her with 
 that half-smiling, frowning look. The idea of her 
 poor little economies after the careless life she 
 had led did really touch him * * roughed him up, ' ' 
 he would have said and his feelings, always too 
 near the surface, quickened at her unconscious 
 pathos. Eddie's impulses again! Before Mary 
 could move or draw back he had stooped a little 
 and kissed her, in the shadow of the trees. His 
 lips began with a gentle touch that suddenly be- 
 came warmer for a long breathless moment. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear little pal! " he said. 
 
 But the girl gave a little strangled cry like a 
 child lost in the dark. 
 
 " Oh, Eddie, why did you do that? " she said 
 resentfully. " Why did you do that? ' Into her 
 empty eyes had come the faint dawn of an expres- 
 sion, the far-off herald of experience. It made
 
 106 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 them a woman's eyes, and lie would fain have kept 
 them so, but it faded even as he looked at her. 
 
 " Why, you didn't mind, did you? " he said, 
 with a certain dragging fondness in the words 
 that he had never used to her yet. 
 
 But Mary was herself again. " I suppose I'm 
 about the fifth girl you've kissed to-day," she said 
 nonchalantly. " It's simply silly. I don't over- 
 estimate it, anyhow." And she walked out into 
 the sunlight and the safe garden path with an un- 
 clouded face and a horrible feeling that he would 
 never be quite the same to her again. Of course 
 she had known that he was a fast man * * a bit of 
 a nib ! ' ' that was the reason she had insisted on 
 making his acquaintance in the first instance. But 
 Mary, like all modern girls, was nothing but a 
 naughty child, and no more a goddess of wisdom 
 than her grandmother. She insisted on opening 
 the lid of the jack-in-the-box to see the bogey jump 
 up, and when he came she was half inclined to 
 shriek and run. 
 
 As Thome walked with her through the Club- 
 house to find the patient cab, two men in the card- 
 room looked through the open door and recognised 
 him. 
 
 " That's Thorne of Upcott," one of them said, 
 as he cut. " He has really married Petrova I 
 know her manager. He was mad about her is 
 still, I believe, though he can't give up pretty 
 women." He tilted his chair back and glanced 
 after Mary's vanishing figure. " The girl with 
 him now is worth looking at ! Well, Petrova will 
 make him pay for everyone he has played that 
 game with hitherto."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE morning light had tempted Mr. Block to 
 prolong the work far into the luncheon hour, 
 and at two o'clock Miss Grey was still smil- 
 ing and bowing to Miss Egan and Mr. Everard in 
 a property stage box while the camera behind 
 them waited the word to start. Between the mimic 
 stage and the mimic box the heads of a phantom 
 audience w r ere supposed to show, and everybody 
 who chanced to enter the studio was pressed into 
 the service, very much to their disgust. 
 
 Mary Trefusis was sitting on the stairs leading 
 to the dressing-rooms with another girl, named 
 Eobin Ward, and Mr. Percy Cunningham, afraid 
 to move lest she should be wanted, and painfully 
 aware that a young and healthy appetite had de- 
 manded luncheon an hour ago. 
 
 " They'll go on like this for another hour if 
 the sun doesn't come out more," said Miss Ward 
 in despair, looking through the open door of the 
 green room to the quiet glare of the garden. Bril- 
 liant sunshine was not nearly so precious as the 
 steady half-tones of a sun behind cloud, since it 
 induced too much black and white. Mr. Block was 
 seizing his opportunity and working his cast 
 hollow. 
 
 " Thank the Lord I'm going out to dinner! " 
 said Mary, laughing. " I shall save up and have 
 a good feed." 
 
 " Are you going out to dinner? " asked the 
 other girl with a half-veiled curiosity. She was 
 
 107
 
 108 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 a little afraid of Mary Trefusis, though the latter 
 was quite unconscious of it, as of someone who 
 belonged to another world than her own, and she 
 was more than a little interested to find out where 
 and with whom she was dining. 
 
 " Yes," said Mary carelessly. "If I live 
 through this show to-day. Oh, how awfully hun- 
 gry I am! ' Her half -comic, half-serious outcry 
 caught Jefferson Bromley's ears as he was pass- 
 ing from his dressing-room to the hall, and he 
 stopped and looked at the group on the stairs with 
 a very genuine concern. 
 
 " Haven't you girls had anything to eat yet? 
 Why, it 's long past two ! ' 
 
 11 Oh, Mr. Bromley, do go and see whether they 
 are still at it, or if we may go out and find buns ! ' ' 
 said Mary, laughing, and looking up with her wide 
 eyes. " We daren't leave, because Mr. Block said 
 he might want us at any minute." 
 
 " Stay here I'll make it all right," said the 
 lead quickly, and sprang up the stairs two steps 
 at a time. The concern in his face had become a 
 species of worried indignation, more especially for 
 the girl he always regarded as somewhat in his 
 charge. There was no least necessity for such a 
 sense of responsibility, but it was one that Mary 
 usually impressed on those around her. 
 
 In the studio the electrician was engaged in a 
 heated argument with the scenic artist, because 
 the latter wanted the footlights to the mimic stage 
 thrown upwards on the prima donna (Ellen Grey), 
 who had to come between the curtains to take a 
 call. He said the bulbs could not be worked up- 
 side down, and he knew his job, and he would 
 thank the scenic artist to attend to his business. 
 Both men wanted their luncheons and were throw- 
 ing off the resentment of an empty stomach, while
 
 WANDERING FIRES 109 
 
 the scene hung, and the camera waited, and Mr. 
 Block like a wise man allowed the specialists of 
 his trade to fight it out. 
 
 The instant Bromley appeared he was involved 
 in the scene. 
 
 1 ' Jeff, go and sit down in front there, and make 
 another head in the audience." 
 
 It was too late to retreat. Bromley ruefully 
 stepped past the scene-shifters and junior elec- 
 tricians and supers seated on the dusty floor, 
 and interpolated his own smooth-cropped head 
 amongst the untidy mops of the workmen. He 
 was annoyed at being caught, but comforted him- 
 self a minute later when Mr. Block's telephone 
 girl brought in a message and met the same fate. 
 
 " Miss Jones, just sit down there for a minute, 
 and help with the heads. ' ' 
 
 From the focus of the camera there was nothing 
 to be seen but the opera box in which sat Mr. 
 Everard and Miss Egan, and through the opening 
 and beyond them the silhouette of clustered heads 
 against the footlights and the mimic stage. The 
 telephone girl dropped into a seat beside Brom- 
 ley, grumbling softly, and the electrician having 
 triumphantly demonstrated his point to the un- 
 convinced scenic artist, the word was at last given 
 to start. 
 
 " Places for the pictures camera! " The cam- 
 era whirred softly as Miss Grey swung back the 
 curtains, bowing and smiling over the queer med- 
 ley of faces at her feet. " Applaud! " prompted 
 Block from his place beside the operator, and there 
 was a momentary show of hands both from the 
 " heads " and the occupants of the stage box. 
 Then Miss Grey let the curtain fall for the last 
 time, and Everard lifted Miss Egan's cloak and 
 laid it round her shoulders as they prepared to
 
 110 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 leave the box. It would look natural on the screen, 
 despite the stage hands and Jefferson Bromley 
 and Miss Jones to help the " heads. " 
 
 " Can those girls on the stairs go out and get 
 something to eat? They are wanting it badly,'* 
 Bromley said to the manager as soon as the scene 
 was done. He possessed a certain gift of tact that 
 generally won him his way, and he was a universal 
 favourite ; but to-day Mr. Block was unwavering, 
 even to him. 
 
 " No, they can't go out I must use this light as 
 long as it lasts. But they can have some sand- 
 wiches and coffee tell the kitchen, Jeff. I sent 
 down word early. ' ' 
 
 Bromley went himself, and saw that the make- 
 shift luncheon at least appeared promptly, aug- 
 mented by cake. There was generally food on 
 the premises for an emergency, though The Grange 
 did not boast a restaurant like the newest studios, 
 but the cast preferred to go put and forage for 
 themselves for a more substantial meal. The sand- 
 wiches were sent into the green room, and two or 
 three of the girls followed them, as young horses 
 will follow the grain-pan, even when out at grass. 
 Miss Egan, however, contested Mr. Block's author- 
 ity and went out to the Railway Hotel, and Brom- 
 ley had had his lunch long since as he had not 
 happened to be on in the last scene. 
 
 " I'm in charge of the commissariat," said Cun- 
 ningham, as he mounted guard over the table. 
 " Play fair with the sandwiches, and don't wolf 
 'em." He jerked Everard away with his elbow, 
 and taking the sandwiches in couples from the 
 dish with his fingers, he laid them first in Robin 
 Ward's hand and then in Ellen Grey's. Robin fell 
 on her share without a protest, but Ellen Grey 
 gave one expressive glance at the plate and Cun-
 
 WANDERING FIEES 111 
 
 ningliam. It was not wise to quarrel with the man 
 who wrote the scenarios ; he could have found no 
 character to suit her in the next picture. She had 
 learned a bitter wisdom in the earning of her bread 
 and butter. 
 
 " Will you have some sandwiches, Miss Tre- 
 f usis 1 ' Cunningham 's enquiry was a, mere form, 
 but the offer marked a little difference in his treat- 
 ment of the novice to that of the older members 
 of the company. 
 
 Mary looked at the sandwiches in his hand with 
 eyes which were absolutely blank. " No, thank 
 you," she said coolly, and rising she helped her- 
 self to two more from the plate on the table. One 
 of the other men coughed, and Cunningham looked 
 as if he might have flushed were it not for the 
 make-up on his face. 
 
 1 i Oh, I beg your pardon ! " he said with an em- 
 barrassed laugh. * ' I did not know that you were 
 so particular." 
 
 Mary did not answer ; she was eating her sand- 
 wiches with zest and a very real hunger. It did 
 not occur to her that her action, entirely justifiable 
 for herself, had put both the other girls in a humil- 
 iating position. Robin Ward drew back from her 
 a little and began to chat to Everard rather loudly 
 and to laugh more than usual. Ellen Grey ap- 
 peared quite undisturbed. Only a little pulse 
 ticked in her temple, and the thin hand that held 
 the detestable sandwich was not quite steady the 
 operator would have condemned it on the screen. 
 She knew that Jeff Bromley had been a witness 
 to the incident, and that he must have approved 
 of Mary's revolt from impossible manners which 
 she herself had tacitly accepted. That was hard 
 that was very hard. But life itself was hard to 
 Ellen Grey. She had learned to seem hard also,
 
 112 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 and to present an impervious surface to the knocks 
 of the world. 
 
 " May I get you some coffee? " Bromley was 
 saying to Mary. " Or will you wait for the next 
 course? It is cake, but if you think very hard that 
 it is nice hot pudding perhaps it will become so.'* 
 
 * ' Bring me coffee now, please, at once ! ' ' said 
 Mary, lifting laughing eyes to his quizzical face. 
 " I'll have everything that I can get. Do cut me 
 some cake, or pudding, or whatever you like to 
 call it. " 
 
 But he brought the whole- dish of sandwiches as 
 well as the coffee, and watched over her while she 
 ate them before he would let her have cake. 
 Mary passed the dish to the other girls with a 
 natural and unforgetting politeness. She had 
 lived in a world where small courtesies polished 
 the hard crust of selfishness or indifference. 
 
 " I don't believe we shall do another scene I " 
 said Robin Ward with a glance at the windows 
 opening into the garden behind her. " It's a 
 wash-out, and we shall have rain. It's sickening 
 to have kept us here so long three o'clock al- 
 ready! " 
 
 " They can use the spots. That's the worst of 
 interiors," grumbled Everard. He meant that the 
 spot lights, that answer to the limes of the real 
 stage, might be utilised to assist the daylight, and 
 make it possible to go on with the indoor scenes, 
 whereas had they been working out of doors the 
 rain would release them. He was an ardent golfer, 
 like so many actors, and he wanted to get away to 
 Wimbledon, where he lived, in time for a game. 
 
 " If we don't get through the interiors this week 
 we shall never get to Dartmoor by September," 
 said Ellen Grey quietly. " There are some in the 
 new pictures, too."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 113 
 
 " Well, those can wait till the winter, when we 
 are back in the studio." 
 
 " That's your picture play," said Bromley, 
 smiling down into Mary's face as she munched her 
 cake. * * Did you realise that you are really going 
 to begin next week ! ' ' 
 
 " Am I! How exciting! " 
 
 His face wrinkled up in a fashion that she found 
 subtly attractive. She sometimes tried to make 
 him laugh, merely to watch the lines round his 
 mouth and eyes. * * It is still like playing a game, 
 isn't it? " he said. 
 
 " It wasn't much of a game to-day to sit on the 
 stairs and starve! But it's awfully thrilling to 
 think I 'in really going to be on the screen. ' ' 
 
 11 Did Block rehearse you to-day? " 
 
 " Yes, and he said I should do all right when I 
 had someone to act with. I get so lost when you 
 are not there my hands dangle from the wrist, or 
 else they move like semaphores." 
 
 " You should signal for help! " 
 
 ' * I did, but you didn 't come ! ' ' 
 
 Ellen Grey put down her coffee-cup very quietly 
 and began to smoke. Those unsteady hands of 
 hers wanted schooling, and she liked the narcotic. 
 A few minutes later Bromley went away to see 
 if the weather would procure the cast their re- 
 lease, and after some delay the light was pro- 
 nounced really hopeless and everyone was dis- 
 missed at four o'clock. He walked home with 
 Mary in the rain, for he had a standing invitation 
 to tea at Laurel Lodge, and surprised her by en- 
 quiring very tactfully and kindly into her finances. 
 
 11 I am going to take a great liberty, Miss Tre- 
 fusis, but I know what girls are about money," 
 he said, in that quick fashion that she had thought 
 un-English. " Now you won't be offended, will
 
 114 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 you? I know you haven't been paid for re- 
 hearsal." 
 
 ''If it hadn't been for you I expect I should 
 have had to pay for my training instead ! ' ' Mary 
 said dryly. 
 
 " Well, how do you stand? I know you have 
 had to pay for your board all this time, and the 
 heaps of small expenses there are besides. You 
 took me into your confidence when you wanted to 
 get work, you know, so you don't mind my asking, 
 do you? " 
 
 " Of course I don't." She stared at him with 
 all her big eyes that he should be so diffident in 
 asking her. ' * I had about twenty pounds when I 
 left Restawhile, and most of it has melted away, 
 though I really have been careful. I don't know 
 whether I should have been stony before I got to 
 Dartmoor, but I borrowed of a pal." 
 
 11 One of your own family? " he asked quickly. 
 A vague anxiety beset him as he looked at her un- 
 conscious face. She could not afford to borrow 
 because she had so much with which to pay back. 
 
 " No I'll see my own family d d first! " 
 
 said Mary ingenuously. " It was a pal of my 
 own a man why, you've seen him! The man 
 who helped in the scene at Restawhile." 
 
 " Mr. Thome? " 
 
 The name came quickly to his lips too quickly, 
 for it betrayed how that incident had remained 
 in his mind, with its significant figure of a Man 
 and a Girl. He remembered Thorne quite well a 
 smart man, even in flannels, with a face that said 
 many things to men as well as to women. Had he 
 been asked, he would probably have answered ex- 
 actly as Mary had done : " He is a bit of a nib ! " 
 
 1 l I wish you had borrowed of me instead ! " he 
 said, out of some unspoken fear for her. She was
 
 WANDERING FIRES 115 
 
 so beautiful, walking beside him in the rain, that 
 she gave him a horrible feeling of watching a child 
 run heedlessly along the edge of a precipice, re- 
 joicing in the use of its limbs the while it risked 
 them. He had an instinct to snatch her back from 
 he knew not what. 
 
 " Why, you don't think it mattered, do you? I 
 shall pay it back as soon as I get going, and we 
 know each other quite well." Her face was almost 
 distressed, not because she had accepted the loan, 
 but because Bromley seemed to deprecate it. She 
 did not at all like him to object to anything she did. 
 
 " No no! " he said hastily. " I am sure Mr. 
 Thorne was as worried as I am at the idea of your 
 being without enough money, and you would have 
 hurt his feelings if you had refused. It was only 
 that I should have liked to have made the offer 
 first. I was too late, you see." 
 
 " Well, I wish you had," said Mary generously, 
 and in a way she did wish it, the more so because 
 of Eddie's parting kiss. Why on earth had he 
 kissed her? It was so stupid. It might have lin- 
 gered in her memory and made her almost self- 
 conscious with him if she had allowed herself to 
 be so ; and its outcome, though unadmitted by her, 
 had been that she had not seen him again up to the 
 present date. She would have written, frankly 
 demanding his presence, and contrived to go up 
 to London or to bring him down, but for that im- 
 pulse of his in the shrubbery. She put off the 
 meeting, and felt the awkwardness of not being 
 able to explain why, even to herself. It did not 
 occur to her that Thorne probably guessed the 
 cause of the delay. 
 
 Bromley was rather silent for the last few yards 
 before they reached the little house with the green 
 door. Mary ran upstairs to " clean up," as she
 
 116 WANDEEING FIEES 
 
 said, before coming in to tea (though, she had 
 taken the paint off her face at the studio), and he 
 went straight into the drawing-room, where he 
 found Mrs. Smythe in the eagerness of welcome. 
 She almost met him with outstretched hands, and 
 it touched him because he was clever enough to 
 realise that he merely embodied that beautiful 
 thing called Eomance which makes life worth liv- 
 ing. Gladys Smythe was living in a romance just 
 now, with Bromley and Mary for its principal 
 characters, and he knew that she would deserve 
 any confidence and be as chivalrous a princess 
 errant as he was a knight for straying beauty. 
 
 " Mrs. Smythe," he said, almost before they 
 had shaken hands, " I am so glad Miss Trefusis 
 has gone upstairs, as I want to speak to you about 
 her. You must not think I am taking a liberty, 
 because she has confided in me like well, like the 
 child she is. ' * 
 
 " I wish she were a child! " said Gladys breath- 
 lessly. " Only then I suppose she would be still 
 more unmanageable. The worst of it is that she is 
 a baby one minute and a mature woman the next, 
 and nothing but a girl again before you can turn 
 round. She takes life for granted, and some day 
 it will take her unawares. ' ' 
 
 ~" Exactly," he answered quickly. " And I 
 know you are a friend of hers or I wouldn't tell 
 you. But if you find she is in any difficulty, either 
 about money or anything else, do please persuade 
 her to come to you or me before anyone else un- 
 less, of course, she chooses to write to her own 
 family. ' ' 
 
 " What has she been doing? ' Mrs. Smythe 's 
 voice was almost like a cry. " She isn't in money 
 difficulties, is she? She hasn't borrowed? " 
 
 " Yes, she has,"
 
 WANDERING FIEES 117 
 
 " Of the cinema people? " 
 
 * ' I wish it were so. ' ' 
 
 " Not of that man she knows? Oh, how I hate 
 him! " 
 
 "Whatman? " 
 
 " This Mr. Thome Eddie Thorne." 
 
 11 Do you know Thorne? " Bromley was puz- 
 zled. Much as he deprecated Mary borrowing 
 from a man of that type, he could not imagine 
 anyone disliking Thorne. He himself had liked 
 him very much, and a considerable knowledge of 
 the world advised him that women would probably 
 like him rather more. 
 
 " No, I've never seen him," said Mrs. Smythe 
 with no less energy. ' ' I don't know what he looks 
 like but I loathe him ! She went to tea with him 
 at the Club here that pretty garden ! and some- 
 how she seemed so far away from me all the eve- 
 ning afterwards. And I know he's a fast man 
 Mary admits that he is a bit of a nib ! ' 
 
 Bromley's face began to wrinkle again, he could 
 not help it. The expression was so like Mary, and 
 so suited to Thorne. 
 
 " Yes, he is," he said. " He's a very good fel- 
 low and a gentleman ; and when Miss Trefusis was 
 living her old life it did not matter. But now that 
 she is in a different position I wish she had rather 
 borrowed of me." 
 
 He felt so sure of himself. He understood 
 Mary's position as Thorne could not do, and it 
 fretted him to think that he had been forestalled 
 in coming to her rescue. He was a fool not to have 
 thought of it sooner, he and Gladys Smythe. And 
 Thorne, with those quick, observant eyes, had seen 
 and claimed the power of obligation over her that 
 they coveted. He did not think why he wanted to 
 do her a service; he only felt that he wanted to,
 
 118 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 and that he was a safer man than Thorne for her 
 to trust. 
 
 " I shall worry all night about this," said Mrs. 
 Smythe. " And she is dining out with him to- 
 night! " 
 
 11 Is she? " 
 
 Bromley's face clouded. He had no shadow of 
 authority over Mary Trefusis, and already he was 
 experiencing that fruitless desire to help her 
 against herself that had pursued her friends and 
 relations from her childhood. He got up and be- 
 gan to walk about the narrow room impatiently, 
 being brought up short by the china cabinet and 
 checked by the piano-stool until he longed to kick 
 them out of his way. He looked so big and dis- 
 comforted that Gladys Smythe adored him all the 
 more. 
 
 " She is nothing but a spoilt child! " he said, 
 and somehow the kindly voice was a little 
 wounded. 
 
 " And Eddie Thorne is a perfect nuisance! ' 
 declared Gladys Smythe angrily. 
 
 " If he could only hear you he would be fright- 
 fully aggrieved ! ' ' said Mary 's voice, with a laugh 
 in it, as she entered. 1 1 Eddie would never believe 
 that a pretty woman could think him a nuisance. 
 He would sulk and fret over it forever. What's 
 he done, anyway? " 
 
 " He's taking you out to-night, and I shan't 
 have very much more of you," said Mrs. Smythe 
 adroitly. 
 
 " He is, is he! " said Mary thoughtfully. Her 
 eyes twinkled a little as they looked from Gladys 
 to Jeff Bromley, who had subsided into the easy 
 chair by the tea-table. " Well, I hope he will give 
 me a good dinner ! I wonder where we shall dine ? 
 I haven't an idea! "
 
 WANDERING FIRES 119 
 
 " Oh, the Ritz, or some Bohemian Club, I sup- 
 pose," said Mrs. Smythe, with miserable impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " I hope it will be the Bohemian Club! " 
 laughed Mary. " I hate the Ritz all my dear 
 families always go there." 
 
 " It sounds a trifle conventional for you," put in 
 Bromley unexpectedly. It was so unprecedented 
 a censure that it roused Mary to retort under a 
 guise of impenetrable innocence. " Oh, but I'm 
 growing more conventional than I was ! ' ' she said 
 carelessly. " I've known you for weeks, and I 
 still call you Mr. Bromley. I never dreamed of 
 doing that with other men. Don't you think it's 
 an improvement in my manners! " 
 
 " No, I don't find it an improvement," said 
 Bromley, with a quick look from his eyes, which, 
 having challenged, she would not meet. ' * I think 
 your manners would be much nicer if you didn't 
 say Mr. Bromley." 
 
 Mary laughed as she rose from the sofa and 
 strolled over to the little piano, touching the keys 
 softly with idle fingers. " You'd be awfully 
 shocked if I said Jeff! " she said over her shoul- 
 der, and began to hum a song as she stood, play- 
 ing the accompaniment without troubling to sit 
 down. 
 
 "Mary, Mary, all contrary, how does your garden grow? 
 
 With crepe-de-chine from Mondays clean, and silk stockings 
 all of a row! " 
 
 " Oh, give her some tea, and tell her to be 
 good! " said Mrs. Smythe to the actor, thrusting 
 the delicate little cup into his hand. The tea- 
 service had been a wedding present, and she loved 
 it; but she loved staging a flirtation so much 
 better that ey^n if he had dropped the cup in his
 
 120 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 excitement she would instantly have forgiven him. 
 
 Bromley did not drop the cup, however. He 
 carried it carefully over to the piano, and put it 
 on the candle-rest. " Here is your tea," he said, 
 and then in so practised a tone that even Mrs. 
 Smythe could not hear in the little room, 
 * ' Mary ! " he added. 
 
 The girl turned to help herself to the tea-cake 
 he offered her without answering, but her upper 
 lip lifted deliciously, and her one dimple flickered 
 in the cheek nearest to him. It is a great pity that 
 we do not recognise more that we are all brothers 
 and sisters in Adam. Brothers have a right to 
 kiss their sisters, as Jefferson Bromley reflected. 
 All he could do was to use his voice and eyes as 
 his profession and Nature had taught him the 
 first, because it enabled him to drop an aside that 
 should not be overheard by the audience, the sec- 
 ond because it is the way of a man with a maid. 
 And in spite of it all he remembered that she was 
 dining out with an older friend to-night the man 
 he had seen with her when they first met, and 
 speculated shrewdly as to their relations with each 
 other. . . . 
 
 As a matter of fact Mary was not dining with 
 Eddie Thorne, though it had amused her to be 
 accused of it. She was dining with Major Dur- 
 ham, somewhere in town, and he was to meet her 
 at Victoria station. It was typically " all con- 
 trary " of Miss Trefusis that when Durham wrote 
 to her a week or so since, she should have ignored 
 him and ordered Thorne to give her tea at the Roe- 
 hampton Club; but Eddie, yielding to his evil 
 genius, had kissed her on impulse, and she had 
 swung back to the thought of Durham, ending by 
 answering his letter. She did not know where he 
 had arranged to dine, and they had no plans for
 
 WANDERING FIRES 121 
 
 the evening; but as she did not want to be late it 
 did not matter. It was up to her host to amuse 
 her, anyway. 
 
 She had never met Durham since the day of her 
 fatal trip to London, and she laughed openly to 
 herself that his face was a blur to her. She would 
 hardly recognise him when they did meet. Yet 
 when he walked quietly up to her the instant she 
 alighted at Victoria she looked at him and remem- 
 bered the strange light eyes and the dark hair as 
 if they had been impressed on her subconscious 
 memory. 
 
 " Supposing that we hadn't recognised each 
 other ! ' ' she bubbled, as they shook hands. ' ' We 
 might each have dined with someone else and 
 never found it out until too late." 
 
 " That is supposing an impossibility. I always 
 remember my neighbours. ' ' He pointed the allu- 
 sion to their former meeting by a slight pressure 
 of her hand, and hailed a taxi that by remote 
 chance was disengaged. " There are more cabs 
 this year," he said, as he opened the door. 
 " Savoy, driver." 
 
 " Or we have more luck," said Mary, as she 
 leaned back in her seat and turned her radiant 
 face to his a pale face, more radiant than any 
 flush. 
 
 " I think the luck was just in the shortage of 
 cabs that day at Paddington. For me, at least. I 
 am afraid you must have thought that run up to 
 London very ill-starred." 
 
 " Well, I don't know I have had luck too. It 
 was very fortunate for me that I got work so 
 quickly, and could stand on my own." 
 
 11 I want to hear all about that you must tell 
 me. I think it was the very pluckiest thing I ever 
 heard of a girl in your position. We will talk it
 
 122 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 out over dinner. Do you mind the Savoy? I 
 thought we might go on the balcony if the restau- 
 rant is hot." 
 
 Mary accepted the imputation of a courageous 
 independence without telling him of the alterna- 
 tive offered her by her relations. She had come 
 to believe so much in her own action in going on 
 the cinema stage that she almost fancied that there 
 had been a stern necessity, and that nothing stood 
 between her and starvation but her own prompt 
 decision. It was a much more comforting point 
 of view than the self-will that had caused com- 
 motion and anxiety to her family. She assured 
 Durham that she should love to dine at the Savoy, 
 and in five minutes was chatting to him as freely 
 as if they had met last week and known each other 
 on intimate terms. It was a pleasure unrecognised 
 to have someone to talk to of the world in which 
 she was living, who did not belong to that world, 
 and who could look at it from the standpoint of 
 her own traditions which she could not alter how- 
 ever much she dressed them up and called them 
 by other names. 
 
 1 ' Very nice girls, ' ' she told him of the company. 
 " I don't care about the men so much except the 
 principals. They are all right. The women have 
 what they call a good time, going out to dancing- 
 classes when they can and picking up partners who 
 take them about. I daresay it's fun." 
 
 He looked at her comprehensively with his light 
 liquid eyes. It was quite obvious that she saw no 
 analogy between promiscuous acquaintances 
 picked up at a dancing-class and one picked up, 
 say, at a railway-station through a shortage of 
 taxi-cabs. Yet it might have occurred to him if 
 not to her. Mary was a law to herself, but not al- 
 ways to other people.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 123 
 
 " And you like the life? " he said, as they sat at 
 the little table overlooking the river. Durham had 
 engaged his table beforehand, and it was deco- 
 rated with roses the same kind of pink roses 
 that he had sent to Mary in July at Brown's Hotel. 
 Through the branches of the plane-trees they could 
 see the lights flash up and down the Embankment 
 on the ringing cars, and now and then, but seldom, 
 some river craft slipping by like a ghost through 
 the dusk, in contrast to the loud, obvious trams 
 wandering fires, going who should say where, and 
 unstable to follow. 
 
 " I like it in a way it is doing something," said 
 Mary, as she stole all the toast out of the napkin, 
 to the confusion of the foreign waiters. " If I 
 had stayed as I was I should never have had the 
 experience at least." 
 
 " Perhaps then it is a blessing in disguise? " 
 
 " Y-yes. Only I could always do without the 
 disguise, couldn't you? " 
 
 His whole face lit up with a smile, for as a rule 
 he was rather serious, as she was beginning to 
 recognise. " What is the fly in your ointment? " 
 he said, looking at her young, careless face. Mary 
 was happy with the lights and the river and the 
 other tables with people in evening-dress those 
 old associations of a leisured life that eats and 
 drinks without thinking of the cost. Though it 
 was August, there were plenty of people dining 
 in the restaurant this hot night, and apparently 
 going on to hotter entertainments ; but a soft air 
 came in at the great open windows behind Dur- 
 ham's table, and it was as good as dining outside. 
 
 " I get rather sick of the monotony. We work 
 really hard, you know," said Mary, and she tossed 
 her pretty head. " People make such mistakes 
 about stage life. It's inclined to be hum-drum."
 
 L24 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Life can never be hum-drum if one lives it 
 deep enough." 
 
 1 ' I don 't know what you mean. ' ' 
 
 " I mean that your life is in you, and not in 
 your surroundings or circumstances. " 
 
 She looked at him intelligently, but without com- 
 prehension. ' * Oh, you can make a diversion just 
 as the girls do who learn dancing to make fresh 
 acquaintances. But I don't know somehow that 
 seems only another kind of monotony. ' ' 
 
 * ' So it is, because it is all on the outside still. ' ' 
 He seemed speaking more out of an inward con- 
 viction than to her, though his eyes remained on 
 her face as if he loved its frank, inexpressive love- 
 liness. " One reason of the restlessness of the 
 world is that people so often miss their affinities 
 and go about seeking them. They know that some- 
 where or other the personalities it may be only 
 the types exist, while all round them are the 
 ordinary or the uncongenial. The majority of us 
 console ourselves with second or even third best, 
 and philosophically settle down with the wrong 
 companions in a dull world ; but here and there is 
 a stronger craving that must be satisfied. When 
 this happens with class barriers between, it ends 
 either in tragedy or a self-made man or woman. ' ' 
 
 ' * Perhaps that is why most marriages are such 
 a ghastly failure,' 7 said Mary meditatively, biting 
 at her tenth friandise. She was very fond of 
 friandise. 
 
 11 Or rather a partial success? " 
 
 " I think that's worse. There is no real excuse 
 for altering it in that case. Fancy living on for 
 years in the hope that it may turn out all right, 
 because it hasn't turned out quite wrong! And 
 always just falling short." 
 " You have plenty of time to find the comple-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 125 
 
 mentary colour at least. I never can think why 
 girls are in such a hurry. " 
 
 " I don't think they are, nowadays. I know 
 plenty of women who prefer their single blessed- 
 ness. Marriage is a thing that I shall only try 
 when I have tried everything else! " 
 
 It was that sort of speech that taxed men's for- 
 bearance with Mary Trefusis, but she seldom 
 found them wanting. Durham looked at her with 
 a kind of exasperated patience, but she had spoken 
 with perfect composure, and he turned his light 
 eyes away to the other dinner-tables rather 
 quickly. Those on the balcony were all full, and 
 two late diners entering the restaurant were evi- 
 dently put out by having to endure the heat of the 
 inside room. They sat down by a pillar, the man 
 having his profile to Durham and Mary as he faced 
 down the room, but the lady had turned her back 
 to the rest of the tables as if thoroughly out of 
 conceit with them and herself, and ate her cold 
 soup in expressive silence. 
 
 " Petrova is not dancing to-night," said Dur- 
 ham quietly. 
 
 ' * Who I ' ' Mary turned quickly in her seat and 
 looked back into the room in her turn. The no- 
 torious Russian dancer was a big, fair woman, in 
 a gown that fitted her figure like a snake's skin 
 in defiance of fashion. The modelling of her neck 
 and shoulders and the superb bust were so incom- 
 parable that one forgot that the rest of her was 
 less faultless, yet she was not really a pretty 
 woman. The face was too heavy even for a sensu- 
 ous beauty, the features had a certain Tartar flat- 
 ness even the massed hair grew too low over the 
 forehead. And there was a touch of sullenness 
 upon her now that suggested a sulky child. 
 
 " There is a good example of our diatribe on
 
 126 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 marriage," said Durham, with a slight smile. 
 " Wrong companions in a dull world! No one 
 but a madman or a Russian would have married 
 Petrova, and only the Russian could have had a 
 hope of success with her as a wife." 
 
 Mary did not answer. She was looking at the 
 dancer and her companion with parted lips 
 through which the breath came unevenly. Petrova 
 had just drawn her snake-like skirts away pet- 
 tishly as the busy waiter brushed her inadvertently 
 in passing, and almost thrust away the wheeled 
 tables as they rolled to and fro. She was behav- 
 ing very badly in a public place. 
 
 " That is her husband with her," Durham went 
 on, speaking fluently to fill the pause, and perhaps 
 to divert Mary Trefusis from more, dangerous 
 talk. " He is easily diagnosed as insane rather 
 than of her own nationality. He was insane about 
 her, and certainly insane to marry her. They 
 have quarrelled ceaselessly, and so far she has 
 always brought him to his knees. But a man can't 
 live on his knees. He is jealous of every other 
 person who looks at her, and it is Petrova 's aim 
 in life to be looked at. He is a man named Thorne 
 one of the Thornes of Upcott, and hitherto a 
 ' bachelor gay.' Petrova will make him pay for 
 that." 
 
 " I know him," said Mary suddenly. " He is 
 very much in love with her ! ' 
 
 Thorne was leaning across the table, talking to 
 his wife soothing her or reasoning her into good 
 temper, it seemed. He saw no one else in the 
 room, and would have seen no one even in acknowl- 
 edging their presence, though he was a keenly ob- 
 servant man. It was so obvious that Petrova 
 absorbed him body and soul that Mary had a sense 
 of indecency in watching them. She did not recog-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 127 
 
 nise Eddie in the man with the strained, moved 
 face, and it jarred her. If he felt like this how 
 could he have kissed her or any woman for a 
 passing fancy? She remembered his speech about 
 wandering fires, and reproached him in her mind. 
 The thing was ugly, too real, and at the same time 
 too unreal. She wanted to get away from it, and 
 shrank from further revelation. 
 
 11 Are we going to do anything? " she said care- 
 lessly, turning her face from the room and towards 
 the dark river. " I have smoked three cigarettes 
 already, and if my hands and arms are not steady 
 to-morrow at rehearsal I shall be no use for the 
 screen." 
 
 She drew her wrap round her a relic of last 
 year and more frequent restaurant dinners and 
 preceded Durham leisurely across the room, look- 
 ing at Petrova once more as she went. No, the 
 woman was not pretty. She was only magnificent, 
 and dangerous, and full of strange moods. Mary 
 had no fear that Thorne would see her, though 
 she did not wish him to, for he was trying pitifully 
 to coax his wife back to some sort of enjoyment. 
 Poor Eddie! . . . 
 
 " Would that woman fascinate me if I were a 
 man? " thought Mary, as she passed them, uncon- 
 scious of her presence. " Poor Eddie! . . . and 
 Gladys said he was a nuisance, and Jeff was 
 jealous of him! . . . Poor Eddie ' following 
 wandering fires ' . . . I feel miserable about 
 him! " 
 
 And finding herself in need of comfort she 
 slipped her hand into Durham's at the first oppor- 
 tunity.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE spectacle of Eddie Thome in love is not 
 one to evoke even the gods ' sardonic sense of 
 humour. It amazed his friends men of his 
 own set, and women who had been a little more 
 than kin and only too kind to him and it drove 
 even Mary Trefusis into unhappiness to witness it. 
 But it was too patent to be disguised, even by 
 Eddie, schooled to keep a secretive face above his 
 love affairs from the time he left Eton. 
 
 He had seen Petrova dance because other men 
 had raved of her sensuous grace and the sugges- 
 tion of passion in all her timed movements; but 
 the glamour of her personality did not really 
 affect him until he "got introduced to her by the 
 merest chance through an older admirer. This 
 man John Sinclair had been an unavowed and 
 unrequited slave to the dancer since her first 
 appearance in England, and finding himself 
 slighted had reasoned that all the rest of his coun- 
 trymen would fare the same, with a man's uncon- 
 scious vanity. He had introduced Thome to 
 Petrova because Thorne had asked him to, and 
 Thome had asked him because he saw that Sin- 
 clair hugged himself for the privilege of knowing 
 her, and valued it above a bow from royalty. But 
 Petrova could be gracious as well as ungracious, 
 and her heavy-lidded eyes were not always sulky. 
 She was a splendid animal, and she appreciated 
 the strength and fighting qualities of the athlete 
 in Sinclair's friend, exactly as a female leopard 
 
 128
 
 WANDERING FIRES 129 
 
 might apprise such qualities in a male. Then 
 Thome went mad. He became fascinated with 
 the dancer and took her breath away with the 
 rush and flame of his wooing. He was something 
 quite new after older men of the Sinclair type, and 
 she had not recognised that the stolid British 
 nation could produce racehorses of men as well 
 as the heavy working shire. The two impulsive 
 natures were so alike each other in certain aspects 
 that disaster was bound to follow ; but finding that 
 nothing but marriage would obtain her, Eddie 
 married her, almost at the point of the sword, 
 snatching her from other claimants. 
 
 In less than three months Petrova was resenting 
 his practised attentions to other women, and Eddie 
 was so miserably jealous of the men who admired 
 her that she might have pitied him. Neither of 
 them would make concessions to the other, both 
 seeing nothing but their own point of view. It 
 was Eddie's knowledge of her sex that had at- 
 tracted Petrova, the gay, devil-may-care manner, 
 and the dark eyes that fired her heavy red blood ; 
 but she w r anted for herself alone what was only 
 the result of a too generous experience. On the 
 other hand, she took as her right the public ad- 
 miration that she had always had, and it was fine 
 torture to Eddie to see other men affected as he 
 was himself. They were always quarrelling, and 
 so far the Russian had brought him to his knees 
 before they were badly reconciled, as Durham had 
 told Mary; but a man cannot live on his knees. 
 Eddie was growing somewhat tyrannically in love, 
 and it wanted but one more touch to upset the 
 equilibrium of the waiting crises between him and 
 his wife. 
 
 Curiously enough, John Sinclair was one of the 
 few men he did not suspect with Petrova, or of
 
 130 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 whom he was only passingly jealous. But Sin- 
 clair's emotions did not betray themselves, and 
 he was no longer a young man. A community of 
 interests kept them friends, and made Sinclair one 
 of the few habitues of Thorne 's flat in Hans Place. 
 He had been playing cricket for Yorkshire when 
 Eddie played it for his own county, but had re- 
 tired just as the Etonian began his career. Sin- 
 clair was a slogger, heavy at the wicket and heavy 
 in the field. He bowled down wickets as if they 
 were solid gateposts, he crashed at tlie batsman 
 without any apparent science but nerve-racking 
 decision. Yet he did not look the build of his 
 great forerunner Jessop, being a middle-sized man 
 with an ugly squareness of shoulder and fero- 
 ciously long arms. Thorne, on the contrary, was 
 the joy of reporters, who exhausted their journal- 
 ese in the effort to do justice to his style and the 
 really conscientious work he put in for his county. 
 It was a pity that Petrova knew nothing about 
 cricket, for Eddie was never nearer to beauty than 
 when he got set on a moderate pitch his quick- 
 ness of movement brought out his strength, and 
 she could appreciate agility and the force that 
 drives it, from her own art. But Eddie was not 
 playing cricket since the war on account of shrap- 
 nel wounds; and even if he had done so his wife 
 would have stared with uninterested eyes when he 
 came out of the pavilion, and talked to the near- 
 est man, over her shoulder. 
 
 When Block's Film Company left London for 
 Dartmoor Mary Trefusis sent Thorne a panel pic- 
 ture of herself in her new part of " Angelica," 
 without any consideration that it might be an em- 
 barrassing addition to a small flat tenanted by a 
 jealous wife as well as himself. It was a lovely 
 photograph, and Eddie put it up on the dining-
 
 WANDERING FIEES 131 
 
 room mantelpiece for the present because Petrova 
 had gone into a nursing-home for a rest cure, as 
 great dancers have to do at intervals to ease mus- 
 cles and brain alike. He could easily remove the 
 picture before her return both to married life and 
 the stage, and he felt it due to Mary, who had 
 really written him a very dear little note to say 
 good-bye, to have it about for the time being. The 
 note was prompted by that vision of him at the 
 Savoy but that he did not know. He put it down 
 to the memory of their last meeting, and was half 
 piqued that his kiss had not had sufficient influence 
 to make her see him personally. He had never 
 kissed Mary before, and he knew at once why she 
 had not followed up the interlude by demanding 
 his presence. It had been rather fortunate for 
 him, since Petrova had a way of probing his en- 
 gagements and catching him unaw r ares in half- 
 truths. But now that he was temporarily a bach- 
 elor he could have met Mary and taken her out 
 with him to their mutual benefit, and he would not 
 have let her go South without another meeting 
 had he known the date of her departure. When 
 he looked at her picture he felt all the more an- 
 noyed, for it was almost as pretty as Mary her- 
 self, save for the quick play of expression, and he 
 felt that she had cheated him of the pleasant ex- 
 citement that a new advance with anything femi- 
 nine always gave him. It was too bad of Molly. 
 If he had been a woman he would have pouted. 
 He almost doubted whether she liked him quite as 
 much as he had felt sure she did in the shade of 
 the trees at Roehampton . . . and, being " bored 
 stiff " by his own society, he asked Johnnie Sin- 
 clair to dinner. 
 
 When Sinclair entered the room he was met 
 half-way by Chit, the rough-haired terrier, and
 
 132 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 stopped perforce until the dog had assured him- 
 self of the guest's intentions and his trousers. 
 The inspection ended by a little sneeze on Chit's 
 part, and a roguish wag of his tail which was 
 meant to convey to Sinclair that they were en 
 g argon in the flat, and he was free to enjoy himself. 
 
 " Lie down, dog! " said Eddie, in the conven- 
 tional tones of owner and master of the house ; and 
 Chit took no notice whatever. He knew that if 
 Sinclair were not to be impressed ihis master 
 would have rubbed his head between his two hands 
 and talked to him in a language they only under- 
 stood. He did not mind impressing Sinclair, but 
 he really could not pretend to be a good and obedi- 
 ent dog when he was a personal friend. He drew 
 back politely, -however, to allow Sinclair to ad- 
 vance, and the guest went straight up to the fire- 
 place as if he were a magnet drawn to a lodestone, 
 and Igoked at the big panel photograph standing 
 there, with inscrutable eyes, while his host mixed 
 cocktails. 
 
 " Pretty girl! "he remarked. " On the stage? " 
 
 11 Cinema," said Eddie, not ill-pleased at being 
 discovered in possession of the picture. " Well, 
 here's luck! " He raised his glass and tossed off 
 the cocktail as much to the photograph as Sinclair. 
 
 " Mary Trefusis," read Sinclair slowly the 
 photo was signed, for Mary did not love to hide 
 her light under a bushel, and was she not " An- 
 gelica," the star part in the new reel? " Not 
 Poker Trefusis' daughter? " 
 
 " Yes. Did you know him? " 
 
 " Oh, yes good old sort, but not the best type 
 of father for a girl, I should say. Not for that 
 girl, at any rate." Sinclair was still looking at 
 the photo with amusing eyes, his empty glass in 
 his hand.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 133 
 
 " He went smash or something nothing left 
 after his death," said Eddie laconically. " The 
 girl was a good plucked 'un and started on her 
 own, at picture work." 
 
 "Yes, I heard they'd come to almighty grief," 
 said Sinclair quietly. " The queer thing is that 
 the very day I saw his death in the paper I had 
 been going down to stay with a party of men at 
 the hotel at Sandown Park where he had been. I 
 thought he was there then, but he'd gone home 
 to die." 
 
 " Yes, and another odd thing is that I was ex- 
 pecting the girl to lunch with me the same day 
 he did die," exclaimed Eddie. " She had come 
 up to London only the day before for a jolly no 
 idea her father was ill beyond a cold and we 
 were lunching at the Bath. A friend of hers rang 
 me up and gave me a shock by telling me that 
 Mary Trefusis had gone back to their place on 
 the river there and then. But her father was dead 
 when she got home." 
 
 Sinclair's thick eyebrows were drawn over his 
 deeply-set eyes as if he were trying to remember 
 something. * ' Old Poker died on the seventh, ' ' he 
 said. " I know because I was going to Sandown 
 Park on the eighth. Was that the date? " 
 
 " Yes, I daresay yes, it must have been." 
 
 " You were lunching with Miss Trefusis on the 
 seventh? ' 
 
 " Yes but it didn't come off. Come on, 
 Johnnie, let's have our own dinner at any 
 rate." 
 
 Chit made the third at dinner, sitting between 
 the two men and communicating with his master 
 by means of a wet nose and a system of Morse bj r 
 his tail on the floor. It was one of Petrova's griev- 
 ances that the clog could make Thorne understand
 
 134 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 him as if he were almost human; but even Chit's 
 loyalty could not forewarn a mental bludgeon. As 
 Sinclair sat down to table he said, " There's an- 
 other coincidence I was driving down to Victoria 
 that morning, and I picked up a girl at Hyde Park 
 Corner and took her to the Stores. She couldn't 
 get a cab. I wondered where on earth I had seen 
 Miss Trefusis before when I looked at her photo- 
 graph just now. It's the same girl." 
 
 " No! " said Eddie, with a little drawl and a 
 sudden laugh. * * Just like her. But she oughtn 't 
 to do that sort of thing, with her face. ' ' Then he 
 recollected something Mary's boast at Roehamp- 
 ton, to shock him, that she had hailed a private 
 car that fateful morning, and how the man had 
 driven her to the Stores, and she had told him that 
 she was lunching with her husband ! He glanced 
 sharply at Sinclair, wondering if it were true, and 
 if Johnnie remembered ; but his guest 's imperturb- 
 able face was concentrated upon the salmon, and 
 the incident of Miss Mary Trefusis seemed to 
 interest him no longer. He merely remarked: 
 11 She seemed to me the kind of girl who wanted 
 trouble would be fed up if she didn't find it 
 sooner or later." 
 
 11 Oh, she's a nice girl run at grass too long, 
 that 's all. She wanted breaking to harness again, ' ' 
 said Eddie uneasily, playing with his dog's ears. 
 Chit felt the anxiety in the nervous fingers, and 
 looked round, suspiciously to find the cause. He 
 feared that Petrova had come back. 
 
 " I don't mean that she would ever come to 
 harm. That type doesn't. She only wants to. 
 Like the American women " (he masticated the 
 salmon between the sentences), " there's a prom- 
 issory note in her eyes that she is not prepared to 
 meet! "
 
 WANDERING FIRES 135 
 
 Perhaps Thorne wondered, but lie did not dis- 
 cuss his women friends with men. He did some- 
 times discuss them, but not by name, with other 
 women when the last * ' incident ' ' was quite over, 
 and the new one had reached the confidential stage. 
 Sinclair did not discuss anyone with anybody, and 
 the conversation drifted to old cricket matches, 
 and to the day when Eddie rode a horse in the 
 Slapdash Steeplechase and landed his backers in 
 the ditch because he saw that his only opponent 
 was out of it and pulled his mount to a trot; but 
 the other rider scrambled back into the saddle 
 after an ugly fall and got his horse somehow into 
 a reeling gallop, and they lurched past Eddie on 
 the post. 
 
 " My own horse was done out," said Eddie in 
 amused reminiscence. " It was no use trying 
 to get him even into a canter once I had pulled 
 up." 
 
 " He'd have gone on if you hadn't pulled up! " 
 
 " Yes, but I never thought Curtis would pick 
 himself up after that last fence, and it is no good 
 riding a beaten horse at the gallop just to come in 
 racing. ' ' 
 
 1 i Well, you landed the Haymaker Stakes for us 
 the next week, anyway. ' ' 
 
 " I wonder if I shall ever race again! " said 
 Eddie, with a little sigh. * ' All the old life seems 
 gone somehow since the war." 
 
 " And you're married! " said Sinclair, with 
 slow significance. 
 
 Eddie did not look married. It was his psychol- 
 ogy. But though he could detach himself from 
 marriage sufficiently to keep Mary's photograph 
 on the mantelpiece, he remembered it enough to 
 go and see his wife in the nursing-home as often as 
 the doctors and nurses would allow. They ex-
 
 136 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 plained to him, somewhat laboriously, that the 
 visits of a husband, or of anyone connected with 
 the strenuous life lived by Madame Petrova, were 
 inimical to the absolute quiet that constituted the 
 rest cure, and that she would not get the full bene- 
 fit of the treatment unless she could forget every- 
 one for a time except herself and the needs of her 
 own body and mind; but Petrova 's down-pent 
 brows and the opaque eyes under the level lids 
 explained much more of the brooding silence be- 
 tween them that comes before a, storm. She had 
 not forgotten the last heated discussion that led 
 up to her overstrained nerves and squalls of pas- 
 sion, when Eddie had accused her of accepting 
 attentions from a colonel of Cossacks, and, heated 
 in his turn, had wanted her to swear that she loved 
 him, and him only, that no other man had held her 
 in his arms since her marriage. (He writhed to 
 feel that it was hopeless to ask her of such things 
 before he had known her. If he could know that 
 he was the only one since, the angry blood in his 
 veins might cool down again.) 
 
 " I shall not swear," said Petrova, with slow 
 contempt. " Why should I make you such a vow? 
 Have I asked you to swear that you will not kiss 
 the woman you looked at in the train last week 
 when we travelled to Windsor? ' 
 
 ' * The woman in the train ! ' ' Eddie sometimes 
 forgot his roving eyes, and was really at a loss. 
 " You don't suppose I should go and kiss a 
 stranger? Don't be a baby, Pet you are rather 
 a baby, you know ! ' 
 
 It had been a godsend to Eddie that his wife's 
 Russian name admitted of an English diminutive ; 
 but her full lips did not alter their ominous curve 
 for the caressing voice. " If I had not been there 
 you would have spoken and if you had spoken
 
 WANDERING FIRES 137 
 
 you would not have lost time ! I know yes. It is 
 always so with you a look, a word, you follow it 
 up, and you kiss her sooner or later, if she let you. 
 And I am to sit and do nothing while you make 
 love elsewhere. I thank you, but I can amuse 
 myself also ! ' ' 
 
 Then had followed protestations, recrimina- 
 tions, accusations in which unfortunately both had 
 truth on their side, and finally a pitch of excite- 
 ment that had added faint lines to Thorne 's irreg- 
 ular, expressive face, and had been the climax to 
 the overstrain from which the great dancer was 
 suffering after a long season. It had been a 
 humiliating scene, and had left its mark on both 
 of them. 
 
 But there was no consciousness of it on Eddie's 
 face as he was admitted to his wife's room at the 
 home some days after Sinclair had dined with him. 
 He came in looking as only an Englishman can 
 look who is in condition and well dressed, smart 
 and clean, and equally fit to fight for his life or 
 enter his Queen's drawing-room. Petrova lay on 
 her back in the narrow white bed surrounded with 
 flowers. The bouquets and sheaves and fancy de- 
 signs that used to go to the Opera-house now came 
 to the home, and it was part of the nurse's duties 
 and a little triumphant excitement to arrange them 
 about her. She was not a pretty woman, all her 
 beauty lay in her movements and the suggestion 
 of her art; but as he bent over her to kiss her 
 Thome's heart throbbed against his broad, hard 
 chest as hotly as the first time that he.had snatched 
 that privilege. 
 
 " Well, dearest, how goes it? "he said, in that 
 quick, stirred voice that his wife had begun to 
 resent rather than not since she fancied it used to 
 other women. " Getting rested? "
 
 138 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 < i 
 
 Oh, I'm better ! ' The full lips did not return 
 the pressure of his, and she moved half sulkily on 
 her pillows like a petulant child. 
 
 ' What a lot of flowers ! Who sent them ? ' In 
 spite of his good intentions the suspicion was in 
 his voice again. 
 
 " How can I remember? Look at the cards or 
 the notes if you would know. ' ' 
 
 " You don't mind my knowing? ' 
 
 Petrova's eyes were insolent under the pendu- 
 lous lids. " Why should I mind? I do not care 
 what you know ! ' ' 
 
 He took up a magnificent sheaf of carnations, 
 all shades of red, and smelt them half absently, 
 his eyes resting on his wife 's averted face and the 
 heavy rope of light-brown hair that lay twisted 
 over her shoulder. There was a ribbon tying the 
 flowers, twined in and out amongst them, that had 
 perhaps escaped the dancer 's notice, but Thorne 's 
 observant eyes saw something written on it Rus- 
 sian characters, a message. . . . He pulled it off 
 them roughly, throwing the flowers back on the 
 bed, and held it between his hands, his brows gath- 
 ering into a frown above his eyes with no smile 
 no\v to contradict it. He had learned a little Rus- 
 sian from his wife in the earlier days of their 
 marriage not much, but enough to guess at the 
 meaning of the written ribbon, possibly exagger- 
 ating it. 
 
 * ' Your friends choose curious methods for their 
 love-letters," he said. " Surely pen and paper 
 would be more private. This is from Dubrowski. ' ' 
 He asserted the Cossack colonel's name before ac- 
 tually reading it; but his wife sprang up in bed 
 from her resting attitude, her eyes awake and 
 alight with something very like hatred. 
 
 " Give it to me! " she shouted imperiously, and
 
 WANDERING FIRES 139 
 
 as lie hesitated, looking 1 at her intently with eyes 
 which had grown almost black, she broke out into 
 a storm of abuse, half English and half Russian, 
 her large supple limbs quivering with rage and 
 the globe oi' her breasts seeming to swell beneath 
 the fine texture of her nightdress. 
 
 Eddie suddenly flung the ribbon down and 
 turned away, his face working. He hardly heeded 
 her mad recriminations until a sentence in Eng- 
 lish caught his attention like a flash of lightning 
 through the rumble of thunder. 
 
 " You to talk of me you, who go about this 
 summer with a girl who call herself your wife, 
 after you marry me ! * I lunch with my husband 1 
 He is my husband, this Thorne,' she says. And 
 her face is in the house my house, where I will 
 never come again with the two of you making an 
 insult for me! " 
 
 She stopped raving and panting as her nurse 
 came into the room to see what the hubbub was 
 about. 
 
 1 i Now, Madame Petrova, what did you promise 
 us? How can we cure you if you allow yourself 
 to get into this state with any visitor we let you 
 have? ' The nurse she was only a girl, years 
 younger than her patient held up a calm finger 
 as if Petrova were nothing but a naughty child, 
 and signed to Thorne to go. "I am sorry, but you 
 must not excite Madame Petrova," she said in 
 quick reproach. " Another time when she is 
 more controlled ..." 
 
 " But there's a misunderstanding I must ex- 
 plain I can't leave it like this ! " said poor Eddie, 
 driven to distraction by the revelation that some 
 gossip of Mary Tref usis ' recklessness had reached 
 his wife in a garbled version. 
 
 " Another time! " repeated the nurse warn-
 
 140 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 ingly, with a gesture towards Petr ova's flushed 
 face and bitten lips. " Say good-bye now, please, 
 Mr. Thorne, and write your explanation if you 
 like." 
 
 Eddie came back to the bedside and bent down, 
 heedless of the nurse overhearing. The situation 
 was too desperate for such considerations. 
 
 ' ' Pet ! " he pleaded. * * You don 't understand 
 it was a silly joke of the girl's I can explain it all, 
 darling. " The full white cheek was all that he 
 could see of the face pressed against the pillow 
 again, and the unresponsive coil of hair. He 
 stooped lower and kissed the smooth, creamy neck, 
 his voice in its most coaxing whisper: " Won't 
 you kiss me, darling? Kiss me, yourself ! What, 
 not one? " 
 
 She did not turn her heavy head, but she spoke 
 in a deep, hushed tone, as if the words came up 
 from some conviction in her at the roots of her 
 being. 
 
 " You deceive me and yourself. You deceive 
 yourself as well as me. We have made a knot and 
 a tangle of our love. But I will cut us a way out. " 
 
 He did not attach much importance to her 
 words. He thought they were the backwash of 
 her passion, and women were often tragic, they 
 loved scenes. He would have tried, however, for 
 a reconciliation if it had not been for a fresh sign 
 from the nurse urging him to go. At the door he 
 turned swiftly and looked back; but Petrova was 
 lying on her side, with closed eyes, and seemed al- 
 ready oblivious of him. He did not see, as he went 
 out of the door, that her fingers closed over the 
 ribbon he had flung down and drew it nearer to 
 her, up to her breast, until her hungry eyes could 
 read its message. . . . 
 
 As Thorne went down the deeply-carpeted pas-
 
 WANDEEING FIRES 141 
 
 sage of the home he met the matron coming out 
 of her room. She began to smile at him, hesitated, 
 and walked on without stopping to speak to him 
 as she had intended, for she had found a certain 
 charm in him which she -kept very secret. The tor- 
 tured frown on his face did not invite conversation 
 in the corridor, and she doubted if he even saw 
 her. " That impossible woman! " she thought. 
 * * She makes him miserable. She would make any 
 man miserable." She was a shade too biassed to 
 be just; but Petrova's husband needed a tender 
 charity just then. 
 
 AVe can only take out of this world what we put 
 into it. Because he had been unfaithful to many 
 women, Eddie Thome could not believe in the 
 faithfulness of one. He had taken life light- 
 heartedly, rather gallantly, in fact, and his charm 
 was partly due to it. But his sins harmless 
 enough, as men go were their own avengers. He 
 was highly strung, and he could feel quickly ; some- 
 times he could feel deeply. Petrova was paying 
 him back with cruel interest what he had borrowed 
 of other women. No one really knew how much he 
 suffered, and certainly no one credited him with 
 the capacity, unless it were Mary Trefusis. But 
 the little puckered lines round his mouth told the 
 strength of Petrova's firm, white hand in dealing 
 her blows. She had sworn to him, with tears in 
 her eyes, that she loved him, during the early days 
 of their ill-judged marriage, and he was buoyed 
 up by that memory. Then the torturing doubt 
 would swing back again, for had he not himself 
 sworn the same to other women, almost with wet 
 eyes, and forsworn himself over a newer passion? 
 He forgot that he had meant what he said at the 
 time, and meant it again at the next temptation, 
 and that his wife had been as much in earnest
 
 142 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 simply because she was of the same temperament. 
 Even now he was torturing himself over the half- 
 deciphered Russian words on the ribbon that had 
 held her flowers; but though he was annoyed by 
 some silly story about Mary having reached her 
 ears, he forgot that he had yielded to a passing 
 temptation at Roehampton in kissing the girl, or 
 perhaps he did not care to remember it. If he 
 could have judged Petrova by himself he might 
 have understood her, and been more forgiving at 
 least he would not have felt outraged. But in call- 
 ing Petrova false he forgot to call himself so. 
 
 " Sinclair must have been to see her, and told 
 her about the photograph," he thought, with a 
 light half breaking in on him. * * Damned cheek ! 
 what business was it of his? I oughtn't to have 
 made a joke of it but it was the fizz, and that 
 cocktail before dinner. We weren't drunk, but we 
 were just all right." By w^hich he meant a fine 
 distinction in intoxication ; but the disaster of the 
 outcome did not deter him from going to the Club 
 and having another cocktail, the memory having 
 put it into his mind. It would brace him up a bit, 
 and make him forget the stormy scene in Petrova 's 
 bedroom breaking in on her rest cure. " I was a 
 fool to leave that damned photo out," he thought, 
 as the mixed spirits lightened his own for the min- 
 ute. " Molly's too pretty to explain away a man 
 gets on to her at once. ' > 
 
 The curious part was that even now he did not 
 think that Johnnie Sinclair had made mischief on 
 purpose ; but Eddie was as trustful of his fellow- 
 man in dealings with himself as he distrusted him 
 in dealings with women. And this again was but 
 the outcome of his own attitude. He had his creed. 
 He never made love to a woman who had in- 
 troduced him to her husband. Somewhere in
 
 WANDERING FIRES 143 
 
 Thome's nature was a finer strain that forbade 
 his taking a man's hand and betraying him, and 
 a woman who found Eddie attractive spoilt her 
 own chances if she made him known to her right- 
 ful owner. This unlooked-for scruple was bewil- 
 dering to the opposite sex, who draw a dividing 
 line between black and white, and do not recognise 
 that man is more grey than either. To a woman, 
 a fast man is a bad man who will gallop with her 
 straight to the devil, while a good man never, 
 never slips. A man knows his own kind better, 
 and recognises the fine inconsistency of his mental 
 attitude. 
 
 But Eddie, judging from himself, allowed too 
 much of noblesse to his fellow sinners. " Johnnie 
 Sinclair would never intentionally betray him? " 
 and Johnnie Sinclair had.
 
 CHAPTEE VIH 
 
 BLOCK'S Cinema Company went down to the 
 Dartmoor country in September, fourteen 
 strong. They filled two third-class carriages, 
 and a first-class for the leads. Block was not with 
 them, and the production of the outdoor scenes 
 was left to the operator and young Philip Block, 
 who was a nephew of the manager and sometimes 
 helped to produce. 
 
 Although she was an important item in the pic- 
 tures, Mary Trefusis was only drawing a small 
 salary, and she ranked with the general cast and 
 travelled third. It would have been pleasanter 
 perhaps to have gone first with Jeit Bromley and 
 to be looked after by him; but that would have 
 involved travelling for hours on end with Miss 
 Egan and Percy Cunningham as well, and she did 
 not greatly love them. In her carriage were Robin 
 Ward, Walter Everard, Cecil Norreys, Ellen Grey, 
 and her brother Arnold, who had just rejoined the 
 cast. Mary had seen him on her first appearance 
 at the studio, when he was in khaki, talking to his 
 sister; he had only been demobilised within the 
 last few weeks, and had gone back to his older 
 profession of the cinema stage. He was a tall boy, 
 well-set-up from his military training, and with a 
 certain amount of good looks that she found in- 
 sipid. But his obvious admiration for herself was 
 not so insipid, and she was not above laughing and 
 rattling off nonsense on the journey, partly for his 
 benefit, partly from the outcome of her own health 
 and good spirits. Work was still play to Mary, 
 
 144
 
 WANDERING FIRES 145 
 
 though she was beginning to take the mould of its 
 routine, to be no longer merely an amateur, but a 
 unit of the cast to whom the production of pic- 
 tures was the business of life. She had a corner 
 seat in the carriage, which Bromley had procured 
 for her, and a rug which he had lent her over her 
 knees, and a book which she did not read because 
 there were people to whom to talk. Truth to tell, 
 it was very little talk, but a good deal of chaff 
 and laughter and disjointed phrases the wine of 
 life bubbling over in young veins. Then there was 
 the meal in the third-class refreshment-car, at 
 which Arnold Grey and Norreys both schemed to 
 get the seat next to her, and more jokes on the 
 first-class diners their own ' ' toffs ' ' amongst the 
 number and welcome food when one was hungry. 
 Travelling third with a company was not so bad 
 as it might have been. Amusing, at least. 
 
 There was tea on the refreshment-car later on, 
 but Mary did not need to wait for it. Bromley 
 brought her a cup at Bristol, w r alking along the 
 corridor with it, and standing talking to her at 
 the carriage door while she drank. 
 
 " Getting tired? " he said. " Why don't you 
 have a sleep? " 
 
 " I can't sleep on a journey and we are all 
 making too much noise." 
 
 " Tell those boys to be quiet." He turned in his 
 kind, quick fashion to Ellen Grey. " I daresay 
 you wanted a nap, Nell." 
 
 " I didn't get it," said Ellen Grey quietly. 
 " Do we change at Exeter or Tavistock, Mr. 
 Bromley! " 
 
 " Tavistock. You ought to let the girls rest, 
 Everard, it's a long journey. There is room in 
 the next carriage, if you- and Norreys want to 
 smoke. ' '
 
 146 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 Then he went, carrying Mary's cup. She looked 
 a little curiously at Ellen Grey, because she had 
 never heard Bromley call her " Nell " before, 
 though when alone with herself they always used 
 Christian names he never did so before the other 
 men. But of course Ellen and he had both been in 
 the same company for so long that it was natural. 
 Ellen had settled down to her magazine again, 
 and her small, dark face was utterly oblivious of 
 anything unusual during Bromley's brief appear- 
 ance. It was " the boys " who broke out as soon 
 as he had disappeared. 
 
 " He needn't supply our carriage with tea 
 that's our business." (Arnold Grey had as a fact 
 procured a cup for his sister while Bromley was 
 waiting on Mary.) 
 
 " Why doesn't he devote himself to the Egan? " 
 " The 'aughty first oughty keep to its 'aughty 
 self, and leave the 'umble third to its 'umble 
 " Oh, shut up! Miss Trefusis wants to sleep." 
 " Do you want to sleep, Miss Trefusis? " 
 " Put your feet up, and I'll tuck the rug over 
 you- 
 
 No, hang it, Norreys, that's my special- 
 
 A shriek from Robin Ward as the two young 
 men swept past her and knocked her heavy cup of 
 tea on to the floor, half full. Mary caught her feet 
 up out of the way, and Robin swung right round 
 on to the seat of the carriage. Then the train 
 went on, whereby Everard lost his equilibrium and 
 sat down heavily beside her, causing wild mirth. 
 In the midst of which Ellen Grey picked up the 
 cup and saucer and put them out of danger, lifting 
 the rugs clear of the mess. Mary wiped her eyes 
 from tears of laughter, and found Arnold Grey 
 tucking her up on the seat. 
 
 " Shall I put you in the rack, like other light
 
 WANDERING FIRES 147 
 
 luggage? " lie suggested, with a touch of famil- 
 iarity. 
 
 " No don't be stupid, Mr. Grey." She drew 
 back from his encroaching arms, suddenly aware 
 of herself. She should have been first-class after 
 all, with her maid to attend to her. Life tipped a 
 little on to the other side, and she regained a bal- 
 ance. She saw its effect in the young man's eyes 
 as he flung himself down, half pettishly, on the 
 opposite seat. 
 
 " He's been spoilt by being in khaki," thought 
 Mary shrewdly. " l An officer and a gentleman ' 
 only he isn't. What a pity they can't stand it. 
 We've made too much of them. I wonder where 
 he went to school 1 They get the outlines of every- 
 thing at school. Aunt Alex says " 
 
 She closed her eyes and pretended sleep, think- 
 ing back into the past. Why should this silly boy 
 have offended her when heaps of men had taken 
 more liberties? . . . Eddie Thorne, for instance 
 Durham a host of others she had known. . . . 
 Poor Eddie ! She remembered him at the Savoy, 
 and forgot her present surroundings in that rest- 
 less vision of his face. . . . 
 
 It was dark when they reached Two Bridges 
 darker still two miles out on the moor to the farm- 
 house where they were all to lodge. An open door 
 and a stream of light from a lamp greeted them, 
 two maids in caps and aprons one of them the 
 cook an outside man, and a small, grey-haired 
 woman with a long, thin face, weather-beaten evoii 
 in the lamplight. 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Thirlston? " Jefferson 
 Bromley said, raising his travelling-cap. " Have 
 you come to look after us? We are in luck! " 
 
 " I'm your housekeeper," said the old woman 
 in an educated voice that made Mary Trefusis
 
 148 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 suddenly turn round on the doorstep to look at 
 her. " I've been up here a week, gathering pro- 
 visions. Please sort yourselves, and choose your 
 rooms. Supper is quite ready. Tom will help 
 carry up the luggage with the maids. ' ' 
 
 She stood aside in the lighted hall to let the 
 weary company pass, but Mary Trefusis hung 
 back and waited for Bromley. " Who is she? ' 
 she said. Something in the voice and manner had 
 struck her as the woman's face and figure would 
 never have done, for she was rather dowdy, if not 
 exactly shabby. 
 
 " Alicia Thirlston," he answered in a guarded 
 tone. " She used to be on the stage, but she does 
 not act now. She is the kindest soul ! I suppose 
 Block got her up here to make us comfortable. ' ' 
 
 " There is something funny about her some- 
 thing not quite like the rest of us-." She had 
 nearly said " you " after that readjustment of 
 old levels in the train. 
 
 " She was a very distinguished amateur once, 
 long before she went on the stage. I fancy her 
 people had money. She is a gentlewoman, I think. 
 You will like her. ' ' 
 
 Mary turned as she went up the easy, shallow 
 stairs and looked back at Mrs. Thirlston, standing 
 in the hall and seeing the luggage in. She was not 
 even good-looking, and she never could have been ; 
 but she seemed to have accepted her age and plain- 
 ness alike, and not attempted to mitigate them, 
 which was rather restful. 
 
 " I believe I'm going to get on with her better 
 than anybody," she said to herself. " Except 
 Jeff." 
 
 The f armhouse was a large one, with uncarpeted 
 passages and sparsely-furnished rooms that were 
 excellently clean. The principals and even the
 
 WANDEEING FIKES 149 
 
 girls had separate rooms, and it was only 'the 
 younger men who were berthed together. When 
 the travellers straggled down after some washing 
 and unpacking they found supper spread in a large 
 room with a square table that w r ould accommodate 
 everyone, and for this first evening they took their 
 meal together, even the property man and the 
 stage hands who were attached to the company. 
 But the next day Mrs. Thirlston's tact made itself 
 felt in accommodating the cast at different hours, 
 so that they did not need to feed in quite such 
 general order a relief for the staff as much as 
 for the artists. 
 
 Mary never remembered much of that supper, 
 or the evening afterwards, except that Bromley 
 sat next to her again and gave her a renewed sense 
 of comfort. Evidently there would be no third- 
 class in the farmhouse, and she would have the 
 advantage of his proximity as he was actually 
 domiciled under the same roof. She did not mean 
 to take advantage, but she had been used to hav- 
 ing life made smooth for her restless feet without 
 considering who was victimised in the process. 
 Bromley took her into the other sitting-room when 
 the meal was done, another large, sparsely-fur- 
 nished place, where they all smoked and talked 
 until the lids began to fall over her wide, weary 
 eyes, and she felt herself nodding, when he took 
 it upon himself to order the girls to go to bed, 
 with a laughing apology to Miss Egan. 
 
 " Breakfast is at eight, to save the daylight if 
 it is a fine day," he said. " So get all the sleep 
 you can. Is your room comfortable, Miss Tre- 
 fusis? " 
 
 " Anything would be comfortable to-night. I 
 could sleep in my trunk! " she yawned, opening 
 her little curved mouth at him, and showing two
 
 150 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 rows of good teeth and a pink tongue. Bromley 
 watched the lashes falling again on her round, 
 colourless cheeks, and, taking her hands, lifted 
 her out of the deep basket-chair. 
 
 " Not another minute! " he said. Then his 
 voice dropped quickly with that facility of the 
 stage " aside." " I would carry you up but I 
 think it wouldn't be wise before the boys." 
 
 " No, thanks." She pulled herself together 
 with a sudden memory of Arnold Grey's manner 
 in the train. " Good-night, Jeff. Don't call me 
 Miss Trefusis. You're the only one I really know 
 here." 
 
 11 I don't. That was only for the cast. Let me 
 know if you want anything I'm here to be made 
 use of, for you." 
 
 She looked up with sleepy gratitude, thinking 
 how tall he was, and what kind blue eyes he had ; 
 and then stumbled up to bed with Robin Ward, 
 both of them laughing as they leant against each 
 other in mock exhaustion. 
 
 When she reached her room Mary jerked the 
 blind up and looked out, despite her weariness. 
 There was no light in the room save that of a 
 single candle, but outside the world was growing 
 light with a rising moon, the hunter's moon of 
 September. And for the first time she saw Dart- 
 moor. It seemed to lie all round her, from the 
 low stone walls of the farmhouse garden, and to 
 stretch away into the very heavens. It was dark, 
 and heaped-up in strange broken edges, and like 
 no other landscape she ever remembered, but it 
 took hold of her imagination with a grip as hard 
 as its granite, so that she dreamed at first of its 
 outlines and utter lack of any habitation. That 
 was what made it so weird. A sense of habitation 
 haunted even the highlands of Scotland, where
 
 WANDERING FIRES 151 
 
 some human foot might have gone before ; but her 
 first impression of the Moor was that, though man 
 had imposed himself upon it, it still shook him off 
 and brooded in independent solitude. Then, after 
 a while, she dreamed no more, but slept deeply. 
 
 The wind rose in the night, so that by morning 
 it was blowing grey rags of cloud in a scurry 
 across the sky, and the heather rippled into claret 
 and blue before its force. It was impossible to 
 take pictures in such a gale, and if the wind 
 dropped the sky threatened rain. But the cast 
 were kept waiting about in an irritating uncer- 
 tainty that was worse than it had been in London, 
 where work could generally be done in the studio 
 at least. Had Block himself been present it is 
 probable that he would have decided that the light 
 was hopeless from the first, and proclaimed a holi- 
 day; but his nephew was young enough to strain 
 the cords of authority and keep his company on 
 leash. 
 
 11 Oh, let's go out and explore the Moor any- 
 way! " said Mary impatiently to Ellen Grey, as 
 they stood at the square window of the sitting- 
 room. Beyond was a vision of sparse cabbages 
 and a potato-patch bounded by the low stone wall 
 that took the place of hedge or fencing. It was 
 not an encouraging prospect by day, but the youth 
 in her demanded action. 
 
 11 But we can't," said Ellen, with the passive 
 resignation taught by working years. ' ' When we 
 are away for outdoor work like this we may none 
 of us go out of bounds without permission." 
 
 11 What is out of bounds? " 
 
 * * Well, beyond recall. Last time we were up in 
 the Lake Country the men were mostly billeted at 
 cottages, and the women were in a smaller house 
 than this. But even Mr. Bromley had to come up
 
 152 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 to the house for the orders for the day, and if he 
 went for a walk it must be somewhere where a 
 messenger could find him." 
 
 " It seems to me we might as well be prisoners. 
 Are we never free? ' 
 
 11 Oh, yes when the light is hopeless, or we 
 have done work for the day. We had some jolly 
 excursions at the Lakes." 
 
 Mary looked at the sober dark face again with 
 the same curiosity she had felt in the train. She 
 wondered if Nell Grey had ever had a " good 
 time " such as girls like herself took as their 
 right, or even Robin Ward on a lower grade. Nell 
 seemed too self-contained to enjoy life with the 
 rush of the age, too reserved to want a man con- 
 stantly in tow as Robin might have done, or, per- 
 haps herself. 
 
 1 ' Was your brother with you then f ' ' she asked. 
 
 11 No." 
 
 " Was Jeff Bromley? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' I thought he was in the army too. ' ' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Was he invalided out? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 There was nothing to be made out of the mono- 
 syllables nothing but the fact that Jeff Bromley 
 had been with the cinema company at the Lakes 
 when they had such * * jolly times. ' ' But Mary was 
 a woman, with a woman's sixth sense of intuition. 
 She stopped swinging the blindcord against the 
 window-pane with a monotonous thud, and turned 
 away. 
 
 " Well, if we can't go out till the producer has 
 made up his mind that it is going to rain, I shall 
 get something to do." 
 
 The young men were standing at the open front
 
 WANDERING FIEES 153 
 
 door, smoking, and looking disconsolately at the 
 weather. They turned as Mary crossed the nar- 
 row hall or passage, and called out to her, but she 
 did not join them. She went in search of the 
 housekeeper to know if she could have more towels 
 in her room, the meagre quantity provided rousing 
 rebellion in a soul that looked upon soap and water 
 as its birthright. Mrs. Thirlston was in a small 
 room, at the back of the house, where she seemed 
 to keep the weekly accounts and mend for every 
 masculine member of the company. A mixed pile 
 of pyjamas, socks, shirts, and even more intimate 
 garments stood at her elbow, while she busily 
 sorted letters. 
 
 " Come in, my dear," she said, looking up 
 through a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles that 
 made her look like anybody's grandmother. " The 
 post has only just got up here from Two Bridges. 
 Which are you? ' 
 
 " Mary Trefusis," said Mary, leaning against 
 the laden table and holding out her hand for her 
 mail. " Mrs. Thirlston, can I have some more 
 towels? I simply can't get dry on the dusters the 
 housemaid has given me ! ' 
 
 1 1 I think so we are rather short, and I warned 
 Mr. Block I might have to supplement from 
 Plymouth. Trefusis Trefusis here you are." 
 She looked up at Mary through the tortoiseshell 
 glasses and her eyes were quite green. They 
 struck Mary as unusual amongst the greys, and 
 blues, and blue-greys of so many Englishwomen, 
 but by no means beautiful for that. * * Is Trefusis 
 by any chance your real name? " said the house- 
 keeper. " I should not ask such an impertinent 
 question but that I used to know some of the 
 tribe." 
 
 ' ' Yes, it is. " A new interest dawned in Mary 's
 
 154 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 lovely eyes, and she looked at Mrs. Thirlston anew 
 by the light of Bromley's statement. " Her peo- 
 ple used to have money. She is a gentlewoman, I 
 think." The two things did not necessarily con- 
 nect, but they might have given Mrs. Thirlston a 
 different environment. " Who was it you knew? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Lady Alex Ratrick her sister married a 
 Trefusis Captain Trefusis " 
 
 ' ' Yes, she was my mother he was my father ! ' ' 
 said Mary breathlessly. 
 
 " Poker Trefusis? " 
 
 " Yes. When did you know Aunt Alex? ' 
 
 " Centuries ago when I was a young woman. 
 We used to act together. She was mad about 
 private theatricals at one time. Did you know? ' 
 
 11 She is always mad about something," said 
 Mary carelessly. " She kills a hobby a year." 
 Her voice trailed off absently as she looked at 
 her letters. There was one from Eddie Thorne. 
 " Would you mind if I read my mail here? " she 
 said. Mrs. Thirlston promised interest when the 
 immediate excitement of her correspondence was 
 over; she did not want to let her go, and return 
 to the dull sitting-room, where everybody would 
 be talking about pictures, and light, and the possi- 
 bilities of filming a book they were all reading. 
 Quite suddenly Mary felt that so much " shop " 
 bored her, and she wanted a respite. Perhaps it 
 was Eddie's letter, or the one from Clare Car- 
 penter which she now recognised. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Thirlston courteously. 
 " Won't you have that chair? I must just dis- 
 tribute the rest of the letters or I shall get into 
 trouble. On a dull morning like this the post is 
 of far more importance than the National Debt ! ' ' 
 
 " But you are coming back? "
 
 WANDERING FIRES 155 
 
 11 Oh, yes, I am coming back." The old lady 
 smiled rather queerly, as if she recognised that 
 sentence and had heard it often before. She was 
 certainly plain; but, despite her long upper lip 
 and her green eyes, Mary could conceive that other 
 girls had viewed her departure with disfavour. 
 She was not quite so sure about the men. 
 
 The door closed behind Mrs. Thirlston for the 
 nonce, and Mary sat down in the rocking-chair to 
 read Thome's letter. It was rather brief, but 
 quite cheery, and recalled him so vividly that she 
 could almost fancy him in the room, talking to 
 her. 
 
 " DEAE MOLLY, 
 
 * ' Well, how goes it I Hope you are fit and well. 
 I like the photo very much. Many thanks. It just 
 appeals to me. But it is perfectly horrid of you 
 not to have sent me your address. By that I pre- 
 sume that you do not want me to write to you? 
 When you have time, write, but leave out your 
 address if you wish it." (" Idiot! " said Mary. 
 " How could I send you the address when I didn't 
 know it myself ? ' ' She looked at the envelope and 
 the date on the letter, and saw that it had followed 
 her from Laurel Lodge to the studio, where it had 
 apparently waited some days.) " There is half a 
 chance not half a one of my coming down West 
 this month. If so, on the offchance of finding you, 
 I will write to Roehampton and put ' Forward ' 
 on the envelope. Shall know for certain on Satur- 
 day and if I am coming will drop a line. Do let 
 me have news of you, there's a dear. Hope you 
 will have a good time on Dartmoor. So long, and 
 the best of luck. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " EDDIE."
 
 156 . WANDERING FIRES 
 
 So Eddie might be coining! Her heart gaye a 
 bound to meet him, and her volatile fancy invested 
 him with ties of that surrendered life that had 
 infected her anew since yesterday and the associa- 
 tion with Mrs. Thirlston. She wondered if he 
 would come West, or if it were only a wish 
 prompted by writing to her? In some ways she 
 knew Eddie Thorne better than many of his older 
 friends did. " Just writing to me would remind 
 him, and make him think he must see me," she 
 thought. " How suspicious he is! All that non- 
 sense about my not wanting to write to him be- 
 cause I didn't give him this address! That's like 
 Eddie. Some woman has let him down at some 
 time! " 
 
 She opened Mrs. Carpenter's letter, a long one 
 full of gossip of places and people passed out of 
 her life, and dated more recently than Thome's. 
 Mrs. Thirlston had come back into the room, and 
 was quietly putting the buttons on to Jeff Brom- 
 ley's pyjamas, wrenched off by an antagonistic 
 laundress. The sheets of the letter rustled behind 
 her while she folded up Jeff Bromley, and took up 
 a pair of socks for Percy Cunningham, who 
 seemed to walk through them with his toes rather 
 than his heels. Suddenly she heard a little ex- 
 clamation of dismay behind her, almost like a cry. 
 " Oh, poor Eddie! " and turned round, peering 
 at Mary Trefusis with her green eyes over the 
 spectacles. 
 
 " Bad news? ' 
 
 " Yes, very, I'm afraid for somebody else. 
 Did you know the Thornes of Upcott, Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston? " 
 
 1 * Some of them. A generation before your day, 
 I expect. Old Thorne was about my contempo- 
 rary."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 157 
 
 " Yes, that would be the father, I suppose. I 
 don't know Eddie's people. One of the sons is a 
 friend of mine." 
 
 " Which? Edward or Richard? " said Mrs. 
 Thirlston unexpectedly. 
 
 " Eddie Thorne. He married the Russian 
 dancer Petrova, and she has run away from him 
 with another man a colonel of Cossacks. ' ' Mary 
 was turning back the sheets of Mrs. Carpenter's 
 letter to find the exact information. Her eyes 
 were tragic and infinitely lovely with distress. 
 " Poor Eddie ! he will be nearly mad. ..." 
 
 " Is it a misfortune otherwise? " 
 
 " I don't know her but he was infatuated with 
 her. I saw them at the Savoy before I left Lon- 
 don, and I've never forgotten it. His face ... he 
 looked so different. Poor Eddie! " 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston held the neglected sock in her 
 hands the while she looked at Mary Trefusis with 
 contemplative eyes. The beauty of the girl's 
 clear, vivid face was softened to a tender grief as 
 if this sordid tragedy of a man's headlong mar- 
 riage were a personal matter to her. " But it 
 isn't a personal matter, like that," said Alicia 
 Thirlston shrewdly to herself. " She is just fret- 
 ting over him as his mother might do. I wonder 
 if the young scamp realises his good luck ! Thorne 
 of Upcott the name is enough to tell its own tale, 
 but she does not know that." Aloud she said; 
 " Is this -a recent thing? " 
 
 ' ' Oh, it must be within the last few days. Be- 
 cause I have a letter from him here, just as usual. 
 It was dated before the other that brought me the 
 news, of course." 
 
 11 Who tells you the news? Is she reliable? " 
 
 " Quite. She is in the midst of everything." 
 
 " Tell me about Eddie Thorne," said Mrs.
 
 158 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 Thirlston, going back quietly to the sock. * ' Why 
 do you think this will be a knock-out blow? " 
 
 11 Because Eddie doesn't take things like other 
 men. He isn't puddingy enough. Don't you know 
 how most men seem to have a pudding surface 
 for trouble that just lets it sink into them and get 
 absorbed? Eddie isn't like that that was why I 
 liked him from the first." 
 
 (" She did like him from the first," mused Mrs. 
 Thirlston. " She knew she liked him. If she 
 didn't, there might be some danger. I don't think 
 she knows she likes Jeff Bromley.") 
 
 The housekeeper moved an old-fashioned foot- 
 stool forward with her foot, as if by accident, and 
 Mary jumped up quickly and took the low seat, 
 her hands clasped round her knees and her letters 
 still in her lap. 
 
 11 Eddie says I shall follow wandering fires 
 and always come back to him," she said with ap- 
 parent irrelevance. But Mrs. Thirlston waited 
 for the connection of ideas, and glancing through 
 her great glasses saw that Mary's irresistible up- 
 per lip had lifted to show her teeth in laughter. 
 " I always do come back to him, in thought at 
 least. He's so much himself! What does it mat- 
 ter what he does? " 
 
 " Oh, so he does, then! " 
 
 " I daresay his wife had her point of view. Per- 
 haps she regretted marrying him, and had to get 
 out of it, some way. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I never knew the woman who regretted marry- 
 ing a rake," said Mrs. Thirlston from the wisdom 
 of many years. l ' I have known women who mar- 
 ried good, straight men, and lived with them for 
 life quite successfully but in their hearts they 
 knew the loss of adventure, though they dared not 
 own to it. It 's the sinners who never bore you. ' '
 
 WANDERING FIKES 159 
 
 " They might make you very unhappy! " said 
 Mary doubtfully. 
 
 * ' I should be far more unhappy if I were bored ! 
 But I never married, so I Ve no right to speak. ' ' 
 
 11 Never married, Mrs. Thirlston? ' 
 
 " No, my dear. Not even unofficially. I am 
 Miss Thirlston really. I bought a wedding ring 
 and made myself a widow long ago, because I 
 found that it gave me a better position. There is 
 much dignity in a man's choice of you, to the world 
 at least." 
 
 The face of the girl sitting at her feet was full 
 of meditation that would have made her family 
 exceedingly uneasy. When Mary found a new 
 point of view, and played with it, happenings were 
 likely to follow. 
 
 " That's an awfully good idea! " she said. " It 
 seems to me that you get most of the good out of 
 marriage without any bother and and you are 
 so independent." 
 
 ' ' Yes but it 's not a safe game under fifty. If 
 a girl like you became Mrs. Jones at her own 
 pleasure, people would be too interested in the late 
 Mr. Jones to let him rest in his grave, poor man ! 
 They would want to exhume, and then they would 
 find the coffin full of stones." 
 
 " I shan't wait for fifty to do as I like, even 
 though I don't marry. Mrs. Thirlston, do you 
 see any wrong in co-habitation ? ' ' 
 
 " None whatever, so long as you are prepared 
 to face the consequences. Where the immorality 
 comes in, it seems to me, is that people always 
 try to cheat. ' ' 
 
 11 Not to be found out? That's the world's 
 fault, for censure." 
 
 " Not entirely. When people marry, openly, 
 they undertake to live together, to put up with the
 
 160 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 friction of every day, to stand it for many long 
 and dreadful years perhaps, even to the end of 
 life. And then there may be children, and the man 
 has responsibilities he cannot shirk any more than 
 his wife. Now in the other case, the man and 
 woman are stealing something to which they have 
 no right. They want all the advantages of mar- 
 ried life and none of its drawbacks. And they 
 generally get them too, and so a man thinks of his 
 mistress as one of his pleasures and his wife as 
 one of his duties, as like as not.'* 
 
 " But if you face it out? " 
 
 " Ah! that's different. There is tragedy there, 
 and perhaps a worse mistake ; but not cowardice, 
 and not a lie. I have a sneaking respect for Mr. 
 Thorne 's wife. ' ' 
 
 " You wouldn't if you knew Eddie. It must 
 have been a blow between the eyes." 
 
 " I suppose he thought himself invulnerable," 
 said Mrs. Thirlston as she looked pensively at the 
 bright blue shirt belonging to Mr. Norreys. It 
 did not appeal to her, and the wicked thought of 
 bundling it into the fire did. 
 
 " No, Eddie hasn't an atom of conceit he 
 thinks far too little of his chances. But he's the 
 vainest man I know." 
 
 * * This flight of hers will be a blow to his vanity, 
 then? " 
 
 * * Yes, and I think he will hardly know whether 
 his love or his self-love is the more wounded. I 
 can't bear to think of him alone " 
 
 " Hasn't he friends? A man like that is gener- 
 ally full of friends !" 
 
 " They don't understand him as I do," said 
 Mary. She spoke with the blatant certainty of her 
 youth. " I wish I were up in town. I could get
 
 WANDERING FIRES 161 
 
 him to talk to me. He won't talk to other people 
 he '11 only go the pace. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston shook her head. " I don't think 
 you would do much talking. You would hold his 
 hand to steady him, and then he would tell you 
 the rest with his head on your shoulder ! And it 
 wouldn't mean that he was any the less in love 
 with his wife, or had got over it. Only, it compli- 
 cates the situation." 
 
 " You might have known Eddie yourself! " 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston smiled. She did not say what 
 she thought, which was that some woman would 
 do all that she had suggested, even though it was 
 not Mary Trefusis. 
 
 " At all events, I am sure Mr. Thome would 
 not wear a violently blue shirt! " she remarked 
 enigmatically, holding up the finished garment be- 
 fore Mary's sweet, astonished eyes. " I know 
 that in cinema work you have to wear blue instead 
 of white in bright sunshine, to avoid halation ; but 
 there are more subtle shades. There must be 
 something very wrong with a man who dresses like 
 a comic song. ' ' 
 
 " Whose is it? Not Mr. Cunningham's? ' 
 
 1 * Mr. Norreys '. Why did you hope it was Percy 
 Cunningham's? " 
 
 " I didn't hope it was anybody's it is too aw- 
 ful." But Mary had the grace to blush. " I wish 
 I could just show him Eddie as a revelation of 
 how a man ought to dress." 
 
 " Is he so smart? " 
 
 " He's a bit of a nib all round." 
 
 " Mr. Norreys hopes he is, too," said Mrs. 
 Thirlston dryly, laying down the offending shirt 
 with a shudder. " And Mr. Cunningham is sure 
 of it with regard to himself."
 
 162 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " There's only one man in the crowd who is all 
 right, and that is Mr. Bromley." 
 
 " Has Mr. Bromley ever met Mr. Thome? ' 
 said Mrs. Thirlston suddenly, but her voice was as 
 ordinary as if she were still discussing the appear- 
 ance of the cinema company. 
 
 " Once " 
 
 " Did they like each other? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 " "Would they like each other now? " 
 
 Mary laughed, met the comprehending green 
 eyes, and would not answer. She knew quite well 
 what Bromley's mental attitude was with regard 
 to Thorne, through his objecting to her own debt 
 to Eddie. As to Thorne, he had probably for- 
 gotten the actor's personality. 
 
 The pile of wounded clothes beside Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston was gradually reduced to one garment as the 
 morning drifted away ; but when Bromley knocked 
 at the door at half -past twelve he interrupted the 
 same tableau the girl sitting on her low stool 
 with her hands clasped round her knees, and the 
 old woman mending mending as if she would 
 patch up the rents in men's and women's lives 
 with her quiet needle the same as in their 
 clothes. 
 
 " Oh, here you are! " said Jeff's aggrieved 
 voice as he came over and sat on the edge of the 
 table. " I've looked for you everywhere except 
 in the right place. There's no chance of work to- 
 day, Mary, and we can get out this afternoon. I 'm 
 afraid it's too late this morning." He glanced 
 regretfully at the window. 
 
 Mary gathered up some loose letters lying in her 
 lap and looked at him with strange moist eyes that 
 seemed to have wandered a long way off. " It 
 doesn't matter," she said. " I've been talking to
 
 WANDERING FIEES 163 
 
 Mrs. Tliirlston I hope I haven't bored you, Mrs. 
 Thirlston? " 
 
 " I am never bored with men and women, or 
 their lives," said the housekeeper. " Thank you, 
 my dear. Come and talk to me again whenever 
 you have time." 
 
 Mary turned to Bromley with a face that was 
 changing already. ' ' Do take me out after lunch 1 * ' 
 she said. " I feel I shall die if I don't get into the 
 fresh air and have the wind blow my hair about. ' ' 
 
 " Well, if you hadn't crept under Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston 's skirts and hidden for hours, I could have 
 taken you out before," said Jeff resentfully. But 
 she shook her pretty head. 
 
 " I wasn't ready before. I hadn't talked it out," 
 she said enigmatically. " If I hadn't used Mrs. 
 Thirlston as a safety-valve I should have rushed 
 back to London I know I should." 
 
 " And left us all in the lurch? " 
 
 Bromley's quick, reproachful voice was accen- 
 tuated in his blue eyes. Mary looked at him, and 
 then at Mrs. Thirlston over her shoulder. 
 
 " Isn't he a dear? " she said airily. " Mrs. 
 Thirlston says she knows you quite well, Jeff ; I'm 
 going to wangle your past out of her." 
 
 They left the room, laughing. But Alicia Thirl- 
 ston, as she bit off her thread and put down the 
 last piece of mending, felt as if she knew con- 
 siderably more of Eddie Thorne than of Jeff 
 Bromley.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 4 ( T SAW him in the train, coming down, ' * one 
 man said to another as they entered the 
 paddock at Newmarket. " He's taking 
 it hardly." 
 
 " Why the deuce does he come here where 
 everybody knows him? Thome's been a racing 
 man in and out of the saddle it 's like advertising 
 his disaster." 
 
 * ' Pluck or else damned folly ! ' ' said the other 
 with a shrug. " To tell the truth, I don't think 
 he quite knows what he's about. He's been mad 
 since she left him for Dubrowski. He never gets 
 drunk, but he's on the drink now. Here comes 
 Lady Jane. Look out for her heels ! ' ' 
 
 They both laughed as the much-fancied mare 
 made a dancing slide that cleared the space im- 
 mediately round her, and caused her trainer an 
 anxious moment lest an accident should betide 
 just before the big race was run. Farringdon was 
 favourite for the Cambridgeshire, but Lady Jane 
 had been heavily backed by the stable on the 
 strength of her having run well at Ascot. 
 
 " Have you anything on her? ' 
 
 " No the course is like asphalt, and she doesn't 
 like hard going." 
 
 " It rained last week." 
 
 " Not enough to do any good at Newmarket. 
 
 You want a fortnight 's rain to Hulloa, Eddie, 
 
 how goes it? " 
 
 The man they had been discussing was walking 
 
 164
 
 WANDERING FIRES 165 
 
 past with the owner of Farringdon, in rapid con- 
 versation with him. His face looked as if it had 
 been passed through some inward furnace at white 
 heat, and become a fine-drawn likeness of itself. 
 He did not look dissipated so much as battered, 
 and the fine red and brown of his usual open-air 
 life was still on his skin. It was his eyes that were 
 seared until they were rather horrible, both in ex- 
 pression and the tell-tale lines about them his 
 eyes and the closely-folded lips beneath the little 
 clipped moustache. He was as quietly smart as 
 any man present Eddie never overdressed and 
 yet he gave the impression of having been up all 
 night and of having a fever tongue. 
 
 " If you want a tip I've heard that Blandois is 
 a dead cert, ' ' he said, pausing by his two acquaint- 
 ances, and speaking in the confidential tone that 
 men use who give racing news. 
 
 * ' Why, he 's a rank outside ! * ' 
 
 " Twenty-five to one." 
 
 " This is worse than Romeo." 
 
 " Well, I've told you for what it's worth. I'm 
 going to have a monkey on. ' ' He turned away. 
 
 11 Wait a bit, Thorne you've worn silk at many 
 meetings, haven 't you ? What 's the course like ? ' ' 
 
 " Hard as iron, in this sort of weather. A horse 
 that carries any top can't stick it. The lighter 
 they travel the more chance." 
 
 " This Blandois? A French horse? " 
 
 " Yes, a bit light. But he likes hard going." 
 
 He moved on then, leaving the other men to go 
 and get what odds they could on the outsider, if 
 they thought fit. He had spoken steadily, from a 
 mechanical knowledge gained in the last half -hour. 
 But as he left them he wondered what he had been 
 saying. For in truth he did not know. The little 
 things that flitted in and out of his life now had no
 
 166 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 reality. Nothing was real save the one hard fact 
 of his outraged honour the centrifugal force of 
 the machinery, driving all the lesser wheels of 
 everyday happenings night and day, sleep and 
 food, social intercourse, this coming down to see 
 the Cambridgeshire run because he had always 
 attended the big race meetings and it would look 
 as if he dared not face his world. . . . 
 
 He left the paddock after some more conversa- 
 tion with trainers, owners, men whom he knew 
 and did not know, that he did not remember and 
 that did not matter. As he went out of the gate 
 to the stands he was caught by a party of people 
 who had lunched on the course, and persuaded him 
 to come back to the bar. More champagne he 
 had had champagne at luncheon, but it seemed 
 that his head could carry any amount. " Come 
 back and have a liqueur after the race, Eddie. 
 We've got a bottle, of the real old Chartreuse in 
 the car worth its weight in gold and brandy." 
 A woman smiled and pressed his hand, perhaps 
 in pity! She had paint on her face. He hated 
 paint. And he remembered, in a vague fashion, 
 that Molly Trefusis never used it, though so many 
 young girls did now. Chic. But not even powder 
 with Molly. He remembered kissing her some- 
 where and the dewy softness of her skin. He 
 had only done it once. Pity . . . 
 
 Back to the stand, and by good luck a good 
 place. He could not see the start, but he raised his 
 glasses and his hands were not quite steady. The 
 bell rang. They were off now he could see them 
 strung out across the course. Blandois was lying 
 fourth. He had plunged on the French horse far 
 more than he had admitted. Farringdon was cut- 
 ting out the pace. It was too good to last. But 
 it looked a sure thing for the favourite. His heart
 
 WANDERING FIRES 167 
 
 beat too fast in the fear that he might have backed 
 Blandois over-heavily, and the life he had been 
 leading revenged itself on him in a shaken nerve. 
 For even an athletic man cannot stand the racket 
 of a racing life the constant excitement, the 
 champagne lunches, and the liqueurs to keep up 
 your spirits if he is highly-strung. . . . 
 
 Suddenly it all faded out before him the far 
 course with the pigmy horses moving so mechan- 
 ically, like toys, the crowd down below, the crowd 
 in the stand there was nothing but Petrova's 
 averted face as she lay in bed in the nursing- 
 home. He saw the full curve of her white cheek, 
 and the heavy jaw, and the rope of fairish hair 
 over her shoulder. ' ' We have made a knot and a 
 tangle of our love. But I will find us a way out." 
 She had found a way out, with Dubrowski. He 
 saw her in another man's arms, and his face was 
 momentarily convulsed, there on the stand at New- 
 market, while the Cambridgeshire was being run. 
 He had never struck a woman, but as he visaged 
 her with Dubrowski he felt as if he could have hit 
 her in his fury. . . . 
 
 Then the mist cleared again, and he was still 
 looking, and the favourite was leading, Lady Jane 
 fighting hard for second place, while Blandois had 
 improved his position to third. Even as he looked 
 Farringdon swerved, the mare passed him, and in 
 the next second it seemed that the French horse 
 was gaining an advantage and increasing it. His 
 lightness told. More heavily-topped animals fell 
 behind, and the ring began to shriek, ' i Blandois ! 
 Blandois! " while a curious stillness fell on the 
 crowd. 
 
 Eddie saw his horse come in first, and dropped 
 the glasses back in the case, wondering what it was 
 all about. Not a popular victory. He had won a
 
 168 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 good deal of money. . . . Better get on to Monte 
 Carlo and spend it there. This was no good. No 
 forgetting. His eyes looked like dull velvet, in- 
 stead of their usual dance, and a woman who had 
 been going to recognise him drew back, a little 
 frightened. " Perhaps I had better not," she 
 thought. " It is Eddie Thorne. And his wife ran 
 away from him last week was it last week? Why 
 does he come out here I He looks just the same 
 only, his eyes . . ." 
 
 Thorne went out of the stand without waiting 
 for the next race, though he had money on it. 
 Somebody had offered him a drink. Oh, those peo- 
 ple who had the old Chartreuse in their car ! He 
 wanted it, after the excitement of the race. He 
 drank it standing with his foot on the step, laugh- 
 ing and being congratulated on his winnings. His 
 hand lay over the lady's with the painted face; 
 but he did not care now. Old Chartreuse was very 
 good if you could get it one or two glasses. . . . 
 They asked him to dine. No, he didn't think he 
 would dine. They were staying at the Savoy. 
 More champagne and one or two liqueurs would 
 mean . . . and the woman painted. He hated 
 paint. . . . He wished Molly Trefusis were in 
 town. He would have taken her out, and given 
 her too much to drink . . . 
 
 ' ' A bottle of fizz and two liqueurs have always 
 made my girls forget mamma's advice, or it 
 wasn't to be done! " thought Eddie jauntily. He 
 believed in wine. If a w r oman wouldn't love you 
 after champagne she was never going to. He could 
 not remember getting anything in cool blood, and 
 he would not have believed in it if he had. Ex- 
 cept . . . 
 
 Yes, he had believed in Petrova. She had sworn 
 to him that she loved him that he was the only
 
 WANDERING FIRES 169 
 
 one. Wasn't that worth having? He craved the 
 more for single-hearted devotion from a woman, 
 knowing that he could never give it to her himself. 
 Well, his wife had paid him back in his own coin 
 . . . with Dubrowski. . . . The whole thing swept 
 back over him again in the midst of the boisterous 
 laughter, and the drink, and the excitement. His 
 wife the woman he had rather piteously loved 
 in another man's arms. Intolerable. It gave him 
 the same sick feeling that it did to look down from 
 a height he wanted to draw back from the pain 
 as from a great drop beneath him. 
 
 Somebody motored him to the railway-station 
 he did not remember who it was when he got back 
 to town. He had won a lot of money that did not 
 touch him either, though it would have been an- 
 other crash if he had had to go to his father for 
 a time. He did not doubt that finally he would be 
 rescued. Eddie never doubted his finals. In that 
 he was like Mary Trefusis. And he knew the old 
 man had it. How much had he made? He tried 
 to add it up in the taxi driving through the Lon- 
 don streets, but it always came out wrongly. He 
 was dining out to-night with some men, and he 
 must dress; but when he entered the flat he had 
 shared with Petrova its emptiness struck him 
 anew with a horror as of great darkness. He shiv- 
 ered with the excitement of the day, and the wine 
 he had drunk, and the ever-present, ever-defied 
 wound of Petrova 's flight. Then a little fond yelp 
 sounded from the dark dining-room, and his dog 
 thrust a quivering nose into his hand. 
 
 " Chit! " 
 
 The terrier was wagging his whole body with his 
 eager tail, and fawning and nuzzling as good dogs 
 do with those they love best of all, but in a sub- 
 dued fashion. He had learned that endearments
 
 170 WANDERING FIKES 
 
 to his master brought vengeance on them both 
 from the horrible strange mistress who had lived 
 with them for a time and forbidden him to dare to 
 crawl to Eddie's feet. Petrova's jealousy had 
 made even Chit a bitter contention between her 
 and her husband, and because he loved them both 
 Eddie had found them hard to reconcile. In his 
 inmost heart he had dreaded some cruelty vented 
 on his dog by the savage blood in Petrova, who 
 belonged to a nation that has traditions for its 
 animals but not England's. He had never ad- 
 mitted this, even to himself, but he had rarely left 
 the dog at home when his wife was there, and he 
 stooped to pull the cocked ears with an odd little 
 sense of relief. One love saved at the expense of 
 another ! 
 
 When he went into his dressing-room to change, 
 the dog accompanied him, still sniffing and yelping 
 a little talking to him irrepressibly as one free 
 at last to tell all his little heart out. Thome talked 
 to him in return to break the vicious stillness, silly 
 words in a feigned voice that a woman might have 
 used, or a child. A good many lovers of animals 
 have " dog-voices " or " cat- voices." I have 
 known people but these were women who had 
 " horse-voices." Thome rattled to the dog while 
 he had his bath and changed into the clothes that 
 his man had laid out for him. Then jerking open 
 a draw to find something forgotten he came on 
 Mary Trefusis ' photograph, and remembered that 
 he had flung it there on his wife's return from 
 the nursing-home, because she would have made 
 a scene if it had been left on the dining-room 
 mantelpiece where Sinclair, alas ! had seen it. He 
 caught it up and looked at the exquisite, inexpres- 
 sible face with feverish intent. Dear little Molly ! 
 he wished he could share his winnings with her.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 171 
 
 He was sure she must be hard up. Would Molly 
 have treated him as Petrova had done if she had 
 been his wife, as she had so recklessly told Johnnie 
 Sinclair? . . . But, of course, Molly of the fair 
 face was like all other women. None of them had 
 ever loved him, since Pet had sworn more passion- 
 ately than any . . . once on her knees . . . and 
 Pet Dubrowski . . . That vision of them in 
 nameless embraces had him by the throat again. 
 . . . He flung the photo back into the drawer and 
 laughed. A bottle of fizz and two liqueurs that 
 did it. All his " girls " would forget mamma's 
 advice under those circumstances. . . . Cham- 
 pagne love. He recognised no other. 
 
 There followed other days and nights, wherein 
 he trod the same round of poignant pain, carrying 
 a blatant face for his world to see and accept. He 
 dared not give in and go away. He would face it 
 out, live it down, let them see how little it had 
 affected him within the limits of good taste. For 
 Eddie did not take his seared face and half- 
 drugged brain into the private houses of his 
 friends to embarrass them. He was seen at race 
 meetings out of bravado, and in the company of 
 men at places where women might be expected not 
 to go. The expectations of such men as Eddie 
 Thorne about women are nicely adjusted and 
 startlingly fastidious. Nevertheless his star led 
 him suddenly into the presence of the very woman 
 who had provided the breaking-point for Petro- 
 va 's endurance and the war-cry of her final defi- 
 ance. Singularly enough, she had not accused him 
 to his face an unusual restraint, since she had 
 gloried in scenes but must have brooded on a fan- 
 cied wrong. It was not Mary Trefusis who had 
 figured in her final letter, though Mary had been 
 an instrument in Sinclair's hands to start the dis-
 
 172 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 ruption, and she had not failed to thrust * ' the girl 
 who poses as your wife " into Thome's irritated 
 ears. After her return to the flat there had been 
 an armed peace for a week, and then Petrova had 
 seen something a bagatelle merely a mannerism 
 of Eddie 's and an exerting of his personal charm 
 to a woman who certainly might have attracted 
 him if Petrova had not been so vividly in his life. 
 Perhaps Mrs. Varney did attract him perhaps he 
 attracted her, since in his wife 's presence, but un- 
 conscious of it, she had invited him to her house. 
 It was a perfectly innocent social invitation, with 
 her husband's concurrence, given in a public place. 
 But Petrova, her sense forecasting the future, 
 knew that developments might follow, and dis- 
 counted the strength of her own influence. In her 
 farewell letter she scornfully flung Mrs. Varney 
 as a victim into the breach " Your latest flame, 
 this woman Varney " and took a certain atro- 
 cious credit to herself for her own action. " It 
 will give us both another chance," she said, and 
 that phrase cut Eddie as nothing else in the angry, 
 senseless scrawl. It was as if he acknowledged 
 failure, and had asked for release, when all he 
 wanted was Petrova and Petrova and again 
 Petrova. He had never been treated by women 
 as Petrova had treated him, and for the time be- 
 ing at least it had made him her slave. He had 
 not yet grown weary, whatever the years ahead 
 might bring. Even her tantrums were a stimu- 
 lant; they seemed the outcome of a violence of 
 passion that made other women look tame. He 
 had deceived himself in thinking that they were 
 but the proof of a fuller-blooded love for him, and 
 had clung to the delusion as only a vain man can. 
 For Eddie was very vain, as Mary had seen, and 
 it was his vanity as well as his love that his wife
 
 WANDEEING FIRES 173 
 
 had wounded. He had been too successful with 
 women whenever he really set himself to win them, 
 and he was secretly proud of it, though, curiously 
 enough, it never made him feel secure. There is 
 nothing so much like proof -armour as conceit, and 
 nothing so vulnerable as vanity. Of conceit Thorne 
 had none; he had an amazingly poor opinion of 
 his own looks and attractions, but for this very 
 reason he was the more easily flattered by a 
 marked preference shown for him. Flatter Eddie, 
 and he became grateful to the least attractive of 
 the opposite sex. But despite his unexpected diffi- 
 dence perhaps because of it it must be owned 
 that he did not always make the first advances. 
 
 Mrs. Varney was by no means the vaurienne 
 that Petrova would have made her out. She was 
 a kindly woman, in the warmth of her prime, gra- 
 cious in manner and with good taste in dress. 
 She was not very pretty, but she had a certain 
 charm in her pale face and heavy-lidded eyes, and 
 she parted her dark hair in the middle, which 
 suited her better than the majority of her sex. 
 When Thorne was first introduced to her he won- 
 dered where he had seen her before, and the remi- 
 niscence teased him until she said: " Oh, Mr. 
 Thorne, I believe you are a member of the Roe- 
 hampton Club. My husband plays golf there, and 
 I am very fond of the gardens. I go down even 
 out of the season. ' * Then he remembered the day 
 that he had tea with Mary Trefusis, and a woman 
 at another table who had looked at him. . . . The 
 incident in the shrubbery afterwards had driven 
 Mrs. Varney out of his head, since a kiss on warm 
 lips was more to his senses than a glance from 
 table to table. He admitted his membership of 
 Roehampton to Mrs. Varney, talked of the Club, 
 and did not mention Mary Trefusis. It was after
 
 174 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 this that, following up the acquaintance, Petrova 
 saw him speak to Mrs. Varney with the manner 
 that had first fascinated herself. 
 
 Some weeks after his wife's flight Thome was 
 coming out of a night club where he had been with 
 a party of men friends, and encountered the Var- 
 neys in the vestibule. They had not been to dance, 
 but to see the place, a little out of a curiosity which 
 he deprecated in the lady. But with his invariable 
 impulse he paused to speak to her because she had 
 been the crux of Petrova 's letter ... a defiance 
 flung to his absent wife by his angry conscience. 
 Mrs. Varney did not know. Had she done so it is 
 possible that she would have bowed and passed on, 
 a trifle outraged. Even as it was,^she wondered a 
 little that a man in Thome 's position should be so 
 in evidence in London; but his face touched her 
 with its new, wan look, and some of the youth and 
 devilry gone out of it. No, the devilry was there, 
 as she met his eyes, but not the youth. She was a 
 warm-hearted woman. " You have never been to 
 see me as you promised," she said, with her hand 
 in his, and perhaps her fingers pressed on his a 
 little. Sympathy, of course. Eddie almost clung 
 to the suggestion of solace in the pretty hand. 
 " When shall I come? Do you really mean it, or 
 shall I bore you T " * * I really mean it. Will you 
 come to-morrow 1 " . . . 
 
 It strikes a ludicrous note to say that a man who 
 has lost his wife as Thorne had done is in want of 
 his mother. But in truth he wanted comfort and 
 feminine patience. He had thought once or twice 
 wistfully of going down to Upcott. They had been 
 very forbearing on the whole about his ill-consid- 
 ered marriage. But there was no woman at the 
 head of that house, and his sisters both married 
 were not likely to act as the buffer state between
 
 .WANDERING FIRES 175 
 
 himself and the " old man " even if they were 
 there. Mrs. Varney offered an alternative. She 
 liked dogs too, and Chit was welcome. At first she 
 accepted Thorne and his white dog with her hus- 
 band's approval. " That poor devil taking it 
 hard. We must hold out the hand of fellowship, 
 Rose." Then there came a day when Varney 
 thought his wife saw too much of Thorne, and 
 warned her. But by that time Mrs. Varney was 
 pledged too far in her own feeling and would not 
 turn back. It became necessary to disguise the 
 situation, that was all. Eddie had dodged a jeal- 
 ous husband before. He had never been in the 
 Divorce Court as co-respondent, but he had seen 
 it materialise before him ere it faded out in a 
 fortunate mist. He was a little indignant with 
 Varney, because he meant no harm this time, and 
 had done none as yet. 
 
 He meant no harm even though he took the 
 occasion of having tea with Mrs. Varney in her 
 own sitting-room the feminine equivalent to a 
 man's den when he was safely assured that Var- 
 ney was at a board meeting of the great railway 
 company of which he was conveniently a director. 
 It was an early winter, and though the month was 
 only November, there was snow already. The 
 room was firelit, and Mrs. Varney was wearing a 
 fur-trimmed gown. The unnecessary lines in 
 Thome's worn face seemed to relax and fade out 
 with a sense of physical ease and the comfort of 
 a woman's presence and sympathy. He looked 
 round the room a little hungrily, wondering why 
 Varney was so much luckier in his domestic life 
 than himself, and feeling very lonely despite his 
 hostess, with the simple emotion of a child. Most 
 of Eddie's feelings were so elementary as to have 
 the pathos of the animal world.
 
 176 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " This is the only house where I go now! " he 
 said suddenly in a low voice. It was as near as he 
 had ever gone to a reference to his disaster. 
 
 " Poor dear! " said Mrs. Varney under her 
 breath. 
 
 Thome looked up with those dangerous eyes 
 the more dangerous in that they simply asked for 
 kindness. He laid his hand on Mrs. Varney 's and 
 played with her fingers half absently, running the 
 rings up and down them. She had beautiful rings. 
 It was a vanity of hers. 
 
 " You are very good to me, Rose! " he said. 
 If they had not been so close to each other he 
 might never have touched her. But Eddie always 
 sat beside a woman as if her very atmosphere, the 
 subtle fragrance of her gown, her feminine pres- 
 ence, attracted him. 
 
 " Perhaps I like to be! " she answered, and the 
 ringed fingers pressed his again ever so gently. 
 Sympathy, of course. 
 
 1 i Why should you like to be ? ' * He took his cue 
 almost mechanically he had taken it so many 
 times before ! The habit of flirtation becomes just 
 as much second nature as that of drink, or routine, 
 or self-restraint. Thorne hardly knew whether he 
 was or was not flirting when with a woman who 
 appealed to him at all, it was so much part of his 
 personality. 
 
 " I suppose I like you." 
 
 " Do you like me? I wonder why! There 
 doesn't seem much in me to like! " The wounded 
 vanity betrayed itself in the tone. 
 * l There is a great deal that I like ! ' ' 
 " I wonder you are not bored with me. I am 
 
 here a great deal " 
 
 " I should miss you awfully now if you 
 weren't."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 177 
 
 " "Would you miss me? ' 
 
 Mrs. Varney was looking down, those full lids 
 of hers hiding her eyes. She -knew perfectly well 
 that Thome was looking at her, could feel the fire 
 of his eyes through all the composure of her man- 
 ner. Her hand still lay in his with a dangerous 
 contact. She leaned a little forward as if to take 
 a cigarette from the box on the table near by, and 
 the movement brought her within the reach of 
 Thome's arm. He sat quite still, waiting; his 
 experience of women told him that in this case he 
 need not make the first movement, and his hurt 
 pride demanded the balm of being wooed rather 
 than wooing. Rose Varney raised her heavy lids 
 at last and looked full into his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, you may! " she said. 
 
 Eddie put his arm round her and met the will- 
 ing lips with his own. He almost waited, indeed, 
 for their pressure on his to tempt him. But he 
 prolonged the kiss with a certain luxury of solace, 
 until she drew back at last with a long soft breath 
 that sounded like satisfaction. 
 
 " I began to wonder if you ever would," she 
 said. 
 
 " You wouldn't let me, before." Thorne never 
 allowed a woman to feel herself the guilty one, and 
 at the same time he never failed to take the ad- 
 vantage of forcing the initiative upon her. 
 
 "I'm afraid I might have been so foolish, 
 if " 
 
 " You don't think this wrong, do you? " said 
 Eddie, as if suddenly troubled by conscience. It 
 was a phrase he had used often, to many other 
 women. It always roused them to defence, of him 
 no less than themselves. 
 
 " Of course not. I shouldn't do anything wrong. 
 No more would you. I could see you were very
 
 178 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 unhappy, and I wanted to comfort you." They 
 were still close together, for she had hardly drawn 
 back from him. At that suggestion of " comfort- 
 ing," so subtly feminine, he felt her hand draw 
 his head down gently to her shoulder, so that his 
 face rested half against the laces of her gown, half 
 against her warm neck. He knew better than to 
 move. She was courting her own undoing with 
 every word of indistinguishable tenderness 
 breathed above him. He had only to wait, and 
 they would most certainly have drifted to within 
 sight at least of something " wrong," but for an 
 unguarded sentence of hers that disentangled it- 
 self from the murmured words, prompted by late 
 caution. 
 
 " Only, if Reggie should guess ..." she said. 
 
 If Reggie should guess if the husband ever 
 guessed until too late ! His own case pointed at 
 Reggie, sitting solemnly on his board in the city, 
 by which tedious duty he was enabled to give his 
 wife those beautiful rings as well as the home 
 which, at this moment, another man was enjoying. 
 When you came to think of it, everyone laughed 
 at the situation of a married woman with a lover ; 
 but the poor fool of a husband did not laugh. And 
 Eddie 's creed had always been that if he knew the 
 husband he would not tempt the wife. He knew 
 and liked Reggie Varney, and had accepted his 
 hospitality. . . . 
 
 Somehow or other Rose Varney found that the 
 moment had come to an end. It might of course 
 be repeated she looked forward to such a risk 
 with intention, even if " Reggie should guess." 
 But now they were standing up, Thome's arms 
 about her it is true, and his lips on hers linger- 
 ingly, almost as if in a long farewell.
 
 WANDERING FIEES 179 
 
 " YouVe been very good to me, Rose," he said 
 again. " Bless you! May I write to you? ' 
 
 " Yes, do but not here. To my club. I play 
 bridge there any day. ' ' 
 
 ' * I know. ' ' He seemed as if he could not quite 
 leave her, for again he came back from the door- 
 way to tell her to take care of herself, and to kiss 
 her again. Mrs. Varney smiled almost indul- 
 gently. She was very well satisfied with things as 
 they were, for the present, and they had done 
 nothing wrong. 
 
 11 A kiss and good-bye " there was Eddie's 
 creed intact. He decided suddenly to go to Monte 
 Carlo, where there were always the tables, and 
 pigeon-shooting later on he had come near to the 
 cup before the war. And he need not shoot under 
 his own name. . . . 
 
 A day later Rose Varney found a letter at the 
 club in Thome's familiar, disjointed style, telling 
 her of his alteration of plans, and begging her, 
 very sincerely, to write him a line sometimes. It 
 was a letter that anyone might have read, but for 
 a certain tender gratitude that struck a truer note. 
 Rose did not play bridge very well that after- 
 noon. . . . 
 
 Chit went down to Upcott. There was a bevy 
 of dogs there already, mostly brought by Eddie 
 and his brother. It was harder parting with Chit 
 than with Rose Varney after all. The flat in Lon- 
 don was let, and passed out of Eddie's hands. He 
 would never return there. It was haunted by evil 
 memories, and the ghost of a passionate woman 
 who left nothing behind her but a sense of shame 
 and tarnished honour, until his brief married life 
 seemed to Thorne but one long bitterness, and he 
 forgot the madness of love fulfilled. The time
 
 180 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 was even to come when he would wonder at himself 
 with unconscious cynicism and a kind of secret 
 contempt, remembering Petrova as a woman with 
 heavy lines of face and figure that suggested tem- 
 per, and losing her charm losing all the restless 
 glamour that had at least made him an unselfish 
 man by the very force of his love, however un- 
 worthy its object. He did not know this he saw 
 himself rather as a blind fool. For there is noth- 
 ing that looks so mean as a discredited idol.
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 MR, CUNNINGHAM was holding up the most 
 important picture taken on the Moor, be- 
 cause he could not remember what gar- 
 ments had clothed his rather scanty legs in the 
 follow-on in London. He ranged through the com- 
 pany with distracted questions, and implored them 
 to remember the wardrobe which he had forgotten. 
 
 " My dear Thing," he said to Bromley, " why 
 should I have worn trousers in the hall scene when 
 I was just going out for the fatal walk to Prince- 
 town ? It 's not in reason I couldn 't have changed 
 on the doorstep." 
 
 " Why on earth don't you keep your clothes put 
 down in a note-book? " said Jeff irritably (he had 
 reasons for wishing to get through the work and 
 to be free to go for a walk). " I have every one of 
 my costumes down, even to the ties." 
 
 " That's just it. I thought I couldn't forget a 
 little thing like my trousers when I didn't wear 
 any. ' ' 
 
 11 "Well, I don't remember you in knickerbock- 
 ers ! ' ' said Bromley, a hint unkindly, with his blue 
 eyes on Cunningham's bony knees. " And I am 
 sure I should have noticed it if you had been 
 dressed for golf." 
 
 ' * I had just had the suit made it stands to rea- 
 son that I should have worn it! " Cunningham 
 cast a flattering eye over his own legs, arrayed in 
 baggy tweed and tartan stockings that would not 
 have disgraced a Scotch piper. " Nell! where 's 
 
 181
 
 182 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 Nell Grey? She has the memory of the company. 
 Did I wear trousers or knickerbockers in the hall 
 scene in London? " 
 
 " I think you wore the trousers," said Ellen 
 Grey soberly. " You see, you had just come in 
 from lunching with the duchess, and you said that 
 you couldn't have motored over to her house in 
 golf clothes. And you had a soft hat not a cap." 
 
 " Then I must go and change. Bromley, tell 
 them to give me half a mo, for Godfrey's Band's 
 sake ! ' ' The scenario writer made a rush for the 
 stairs, to be stopped half-way up by Bromley's 
 warning voice. 
 
 I * The light 's going, Cunningham ! ' ' 
 
 " Well, I can't wear trousers in the hall and 
 walk out of the front door in knickerbockers ! It *s 
 absurd. Where did I change ? On the doorstep ? ' 
 asked Cunningham sarcastically, pausing on the 
 stairs. 
 
 Bromley shrugged his shoulders and turned to 
 Mary Trefusis, who was listening in fits of 
 laughter. 
 
 " What does it matter what he wears'? " she 
 asked carelessly, glancing at the open doorway, 
 where the ominous day was losing the flaccid sun- 
 light and darkening with an autumn haze. 
 
 II Oh, of course he must dress the same in the 
 follow-on as he did in London! " Bromley ad- 
 mitted, his face wrinkling in the laughter that she 
 liked so much. " That's the worst of taking all 
 the interiors together, when the outdoor scenes 
 come in between. I once saw a lady coming to call, 
 on the screen, in a small bonnet thing what do 
 you call it, toque? and in the next picture the 
 butler was announcing her into the room in a wide- 
 brimmed hat ! It looked awfully funny, and might 
 have spoiled the picture."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 183 
 
 Mary's one dimple was as much in evidence as 
 his wrinkles. "I'm thankful I always wear the 
 same ' sweet simplicity ' frock! " she said. " I 
 should be sure to forget the details. Angelica ap- 
 pears to have only one gown to her name. Jeff, if 
 the light fails, will they let us off ! ' 
 
 " They will have to. Will you come for a truly 
 exploring after lunch? We haven't seen much of 
 the Moor." 
 
 "I'd love it. Do you know the way? " 
 
 " Not on your life! We're lost before we 
 start. " 
 
 They both laughed, and sat down on the door- 
 step of the farmhouse to wait for Cunningham and 
 the light, Mary with her pretty discontented faci 
 framed in her hands, her elbows on her knees. She 
 had hardly found the W 7 ork irksome in London be- 
 cause there had been no inducement to leave the 
 studio and go elsewhere, and everything she 
 wanted to do could well be managed after the light 
 failed. Had The Grange been one of the most 
 modern studios, the work could have gone on up to 
 nine o'clock, since it would have depended on 
 AVestminster arcs, Kleigel spots, and Wohl broad- 
 sides, rather than the fickle English sun; being 
 one of the old daylight studios, the company were 
 released as soon as the sun lost his power, and on 
 wet days even earlier. It had given them an 
 uncertain leisure, but up on Dartmoor the hoard- 
 ing of daylight w r as a tie and a nuisance. The 
 company might not go beyond recall as long as it 
 was possible to use the camera, and in a new place, 
 with the temptation to explore the neighbour- 
 hood, Mary felt the restiveness of her old 
 habits and independence. Had it not been for 
 Bromley's guidance, of which she w r as half uncon- 
 scious, she would have broken bounds before and
 
 184 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 earned a serious reprimand from Philip Block. 
 
 The light, however, did not improve as the day 
 went on, and after lunch had been retarded to get 
 the very best of the midday hours, it was decided 
 that it was a " wash-out," and to abandon work at 
 three o'clock, and the cinema cast were free to go 
 their own way. 
 
 " Run up and put on your hat, Mary," Bromley 
 said hurriedly, as soon as the verdict was certain. 
 * * We '11 go for a long tramp. It 's a bit thick, but 
 that doesn't matter, does it? ' 
 
 " Why should it? " said Mary in happy igno- 
 rance. " Wait for me in Mrs. Thirlston's room, 
 Jeffy then we shall get off by our lonesomes. She 
 won't mind." 
 
 She passed him with a headlong rush for the 
 stairs, and burst into her own room, banging the 
 door behind her. It did not take her long to cram 
 a woolly cap down over her hair and slip into a 
 warm jumper, after ripping off ' * Angelica 's ' ' in- 
 nocent blue gown that was chilly for the autumn 
 day, and flinging it broadcast on the bed. The out- 
 side world was not encouraging. A damp mist 
 was lying like a thin veil over the nearer tors, and 
 thickening to a blanket that wiped out the horizon 
 in the distance. But Mary's blood was young, and 
 the prospect of action after the tiresome waiting 
 about was welcome. Anything to stretch her legs 
 and feel the joy of exercise. She decided, how- 
 ever, that a wool scarf as well as the jumper would 
 be comforting, and flung over the contents of her 
 box to find one, only to discover that she had either 
 left it in London or that some other girl in the 
 company had borrowed it after a fashion peculiar 
 to them, for the cast, like the early Christians, 
 had a habit of sharing their goods in common.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 185 
 
 " Blast! " said Mary impatiently, mindful that 
 Bromley was waiting and the day going. " I must 
 borrow of Nell Gray." 
 
 It did not strike her as a salient characteristic 
 of the company that everybody borrowed of Nell 
 Grey, be it wool scarves or sympathy, needles or 
 the good office of listening. Nell was one of those 
 people who bore other's burdens and never 
 shifted her own. Mary rushed along the echoing 
 passage and knocked at her door, hardly waiting 
 for permission to enter before she was in the room 
 with a breathless request. 
 
 " Lend me a scarf, Nell! I think Wardy has 
 mine. White if you have it, but anything must 
 do." 
 
 Nell turned round from the window where she 
 was standing looking out, with a face that seemed 
 to be startled, not at the intrusion into her room 
 so much as the intrusion into her thoughts. She 
 appeared to be doing nothing, and to have no plans 
 for the precious afternoon, though everybody else 
 was in a hurry after liberty. 
 
 1 1 There 's one in the cupboard it 's white. Are 
 you going out, Mary? It's very thick." 
 
 " Jeff and I are going for a tramp. Don't tell 
 any of the boys, or we shan't get off alone." 
 Mary had dived into the cupboard in search of the 
 scarf and did not see Nell's face as she spoke. 
 When she reappeared with the scarf Nell was look- 
 ing out at the Moor again. 
 
 * ' You had better be careful of fog, ' ' was all she 
 said. " Wrap that well over your chest, it's a 
 raw day." 
 
 " It's a jolly thick scarf," said Mary appreci- 
 atively, folding it scientifically before Nell's strip 
 of glass. The soft white folds suited her vivid
 
 186 WANDERING FIKES 
 
 face as a frame and went well with the white 
 jumper. She was vaguely glad that her own scarf 
 was lost, and that she had borrowed Nell's. 
 
 " It belonged to May Moon she gave it to me 
 when she left," said Nell almost curtly, her face 
 still turned to the Moor. 
 
 " Oh, May Moon! ' Mary was still looking at 
 herself in the glass, and was more concerned with 
 what she saw there than the former star. ' * What 
 did become of her? What made her leave the 
 company? " 
 
 There was an uncomfortable silence that sud- 
 denly claimed her attention. " Well? " she said 
 almost sharply. 
 
 1 ' She got into trouble. ' ' 
 
 " What sort of trouble drink? " 
 
 " No. She was going to have a child." Nell's 
 low voice hesitated from charity rather than 
 shame. And yet Mary knew that she was ashamed 
 for the woman who had "got into trouble," and 
 was vaguely amazed. In Mary Trefusis' world 
 such a disaster was far less serious than drink or 
 drugs or debt. 
 
 " Well, really, nowadays ..." Mary turned 
 from the glass and the subject together, conscious 
 of the other girl 's disapproval. She hated anyone 
 to disapprove of her, and designated Nell's at- 
 titude as that of a world to which she did not 
 belong. For boast as she might of being a 
 working girl, and oT her independence, Mary Tre- 
 fusis was conscious in her inmost heart that she 
 was not absorbed into her new life, and could not 
 be entirely of it. She treated everybody round her 
 as her equals, and never thought of them as such. 
 In the present instance she found herself surpris- 
 ingly held up by an attitude of respectability that 
 dumbfounded her. She had expected a looseness
 
 WANDERING FIRES 187 
 
 of morals and conversation on the cinema stage 
 that she never found in Ellen Grey or even Robin 
 Ward. They seemed to her amazingly prudish, 
 and they flinched at speeches which would have 
 caused nothing but amusement at her aunt's din- 
 ner-table. Had she drifted into the dressing- 
 rooms of a musical comedy, amongst the chorus, it 
 is just possible that she would have met with 
 speech coarser than her own and phrases that 
 might have disgusted her; but she had not calcu- 
 lated for finding herself amongst middle-class 
 women whose traditions had not been rubbed off 
 them by license. 
 
 When she entered Mrs. Thirlston's room Brom- 
 ley was there alone, a tall figure in tweeds with a 
 cap over his crisp hair and alert blue eyes. He 
 looked well in his knickerbockers and short jacket, 
 and Mary found no fault with her escort. If the 
 rest of the ' ' crowd ' were middle-class, Jeff 
 Bromley at least was never in the category to her 
 mind. He glanced at her with the same covert 
 approval that she had given him, but frank though 
 their intercourse was, they had not reached the 
 stage of comment or compliment. 
 
 " Can you walk many miles, Mary? " he said, 
 as they set off. They had slipped out by the back 
 entrance of the farmhouse, through the little 
 creamery and past the shippen, and over the low 
 stone wall bounding everything, to avoid falling 
 in with the rest of the company. 
 
 " I'll beat you ! " said Mary gaily, with a glance 
 under the long lashes, half challenging, half wild, 
 as of some free animal that may make a bound for 
 liberty at any moment. " I've tramped it up in 
 Scotland with the guns. ' ' 
 
 " How many miles! Two? " 
 
 ' * Fifteen twenty ! ' ' she boasted, so like a child
 
 188 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 who swells its achievement that he laughed at her. 
 
 ' * My shoes will be worn out ! ' ' 
 
 " Go barefoot, then." 
 
 " Then my feet might be worn out, and what 
 becomes of to-morrow's pictures? Shall I totter 
 on two sticks as John Derriford? ' 
 
 1 1 He was such a mug in the book that he would 
 be sure to have corns ! ' ' 
 
 " You don't admire him? ' 
 
 " I thought he was a beast. Angelica was bad 
 enough, but the man turned me sick." 
 
 ' ' What sort of man do you admire ? ' ' 
 
 " A good sort a man who can race, and play 
 games, and go on when he 's beaten, and who loves 
 the open air, and has a clean mind and body. ..." 
 
 Bromley glanced at her keenly, striding along 
 beside him over rough grass and heather, the sling 
 and swing of her young body in perfect accord 
 with her active mind. There was no consciousness 
 of any real hero in her face. 
 
 1 * What is he like physically ? ' ' 
 
 "Don't know. Haven't thought about it. Any- 
 thing will do, so long as he is all right. Oh, he 
 must look decent, I suppose. ' ' 
 
 " I will tell you what he is like," said Brom- 
 ley suddenly. ' * He is about middle height, and so 
 built that he looks as if he were made of pliant 
 steel. He is a fair man, and his hair has a little 
 wave in it. He is so much sunburnt that he has a 
 colour those fair skins burn easily but his eyes 
 are unusually dark. His face is rather irregular 
 a charming face, I think, and so do you." 
 
 The stare of Mary's great eyes showed him that 
 she was entirely in the dark as to his meaning, and 
 he laughed again, perhaps with relief for her, or 
 for himself. " I don't know anybody like that! " 
 she said. " Did you mean yourself? "
 
 WANDERING FIEES 189 
 
 Bromley's face flushed up to the crisp hair, and 
 then wrinkled into a shout of laughter. He looked 
 so thoroughly appreciative of his own discomfiture 
 that Mary laughed too. 
 
 " What did you mean? " she said. 
 
 " I was trying to describe Mr. Thorne! " he 
 admitted meekly. 
 
 11 Eddie Thorne! ' The bright face suddenly 
 clouded, so that he wondered why. ' ' I wish every- 
 body would not force me to think of Eddie," she 
 said. " It makes me so unhappy. And it wasn't 
 a bit like him, Jeff. ' ' 
 
 1 1 Thank you ! I am no artist. ' ' 
 
 " You sketch people better than you talk them. 
 The only part of Eddie that I could recognise was 
 the dark eyes, and everybody notices those, they 
 are so peculiar." 
 
 " He is not your hero, then? ' 
 
 " Eddie isn't anybody's hero but he is every- 
 body's darling," said Mary, with one of her 
 shrewd summings-up of an intricate subject. " I 
 don't w^ant to talk of him because he's in trouble, 
 and I can't help him. It's as dreadful as seeing a 
 child hurt." Her lips set, and she began to walk 
 faster over the rough ground. Bromley main- 
 tained a respectful silence. 
 
 They were already a mile or more from the 
 farmhouse, amongst the rough grass and granite 
 boulders which made walking somewhat of a la- 
 bour. The wind was in their faces, and Bromley 
 steered by it, for the road had disappeared behind 
 the first tor they had climbed, and the increasing 
 mist made the distance a white wall. It crept up 
 and over the Moor like a shroud, sometimes so 
 thick that Bromley looked a little anxious, some- 
 times lifting so that they could see the curious 
 mellow colours of the landscape yellow-green and
 
 190 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 yellow-brown, blackened claret, brown-purple, 
 green-grey, hardly a pure colour, but all inter- 
 mingled. Both Mary and Jeff were rather quiet, 
 as if their whole enjoyment were in the exercise, 
 but after they had been tramping for the best part 
 of an hour he stood still and looked round him. 
 
 " Mary, I don't wish to say that I have lost you 
 as I promised, but I should be happier if I could 
 see a road." 
 
 " Why, there it is over there," said the girl, 
 as the fog-wreaths lifted and parted a little and 
 showed the quiescent face of the Moor in the 
 autumn afternoon. It was so quiet that it seemed 
 to have never been inhabited. 
 
 " So it is. Good girl! What a splendid thing 
 it is to have young eyes. We had better get down 
 to it and turn our faces homewards. I don't like 
 this fog." 
 
 " I want to sit on the top of that tor for a 
 minute," said Mary wilfully. " We can get down 
 to the road any time. ' ' 
 
 They had been slowly ascending a slope strewn 
 with the granite outcrop, while below them lay the 
 bed of a little river, one of those desolate moor- 
 land streams that do not seem to have any source 
 or destiny. It had come out of the mist, and was 
 going with the mist, nameless and mysterious. 
 Over the heads of the pedestrians the hillside 
 ended in more blocks of granite, crowning the tor ; 
 and still the fog wreathed and folded itself like a 
 shroud in the distance. 
 
 Mary had already sprung from one rough place 
 to another until she reached the summit, and 
 perched herself upon a rock, her back to the road 
 and her face to the open moorland. Bromley per- 
 force followed her, more slowly, looking up at her
 
 WANDERING FIRES 191 
 
 above him as if lie saw some significance in this 
 climb to reach her. In her short grey skirt and 
 white jumper and cap, she looked like some pixie 
 balanced on the uncouth seat of granite, her hands 
 resting behind her on the stone to avoid slipping 
 off. 
 
 " What's that tor over to the north, Jeff? " she 
 said. 
 
 " Heaven's Tor, I should think," said Bromley, 
 with a meaning that she did not catch. " But I 
 am not even sure that it is the north." 
 
 ' ' It must be, if the wind is still in the west. Do 
 let's go there some day. I suppose it's too far 
 now? " 
 
 " Too far to Heaven's Tor? Yes, a great deal. 
 I can't let you stay here even much longer. And 
 it will be a stiff tramp going home." 
 
 " I like it. This air is like champagne better 
 than Scotland. Jeff, I should like to build a house 
 on the Moor, and live here." 
 
 " All alone? " 
 
 " There would be a guest-room sometimes 
 if you were good! " 
 
 " Should I be good? " said Bromley lightly. 
 " It is too far off the police. I should steal the 
 spoons." 
 
 " And we would have all our own food on the 
 premises," said Mary, with the delight of a child. 
 ' * And bake our own bread ' ' 
 
 " Mary, you must come now, the time is going. 
 We have to get back." 
 
 * * In a minute. It is only tramping over the road 
 now. Jeff, did you ever hear such a funny mur- 
 mur as that stream! It seems to be gabbling all 
 sorts of things " 
 
 Bromley stood up and held his hands to her to
 
 192 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 help her off her seat. She jumped down lightly, 
 looking up at him with a mutinous face. " You 
 don't like taking me for a walk ! " she said. " All 
 you think about is getting home to tea. ' ' 
 
 * ' All I think about is this fog, ' ' he answered, as 
 he hurried her round the great rocks to the further 
 slope; but as he faced the prospect he uttered an 
 exclamation of dismay. 
 
 The road was gone. The Moor itself was gone, 
 save for a few yards of granite outcrop and rough 
 grass and heather. Creeping over the whole world 
 was that white shroud which had wiped out the 
 homeward way and the whole prospect, leaving 
 them looking into a nothingness that was all white 
 and seemed to stifle them with its silence. It had 
 come so suddenly that even now the view behind 
 them was partially clear compared to the advanc- 
 ing shroud in front, but the fog would soon be 
 over the whole of this part of the Moor. 
 
 " We shall have to go on, in front of it, if we 
 can't find the road," said Bromley. He took 
 Mary's hand and almost dragged her downhill, 
 making for the direction in which they had seen 
 the road as far as he could judge ; but the broken 
 ground made it more confusing than plain turf 
 would have been, and after stumbling on together 
 for some time they stopped in bewilderment, 
 afraid to move even a few feet apart lest they 
 should lose sight of each other. And still the 
 wreathing shroud wrapped everything with its 
 cold, clinging whiteness. 
 
 " Mary, I can't tell you how sorry I am that I 
 let you in for this! " he said penitently, pressing 
 the girl's hand to his side as if to give her a sense 
 of protection. 
 
 " I don't mind a bit. It's an adventure." 
 
 " You are very plucky. But I'm to blame, all
 
 WANDERING FIRES 193 
 
 the same. I've never seen a real Dartmoor fog 
 before, and I had no idea they came on so sud- 
 denly. ' ' 
 
 They went on again for a few yards, bearing 
 more to their right, but the bewildering white 
 sameness made it impossible even to guess their 
 way. Jeff had been walking with the wind behind 
 him, as they had faced it coming out. It now oc- 
 curred to him that it might have changed, which 
 would account for the- fog coming on so suddenly. 
 He tried walking against it again, the girl's hand 
 on his arm, and the white shroud making each step 
 something of a hazard in that rough country. 
 
 They had been going on in this manner for some 
 time when they became aware that they were close 
 to a stone wall. It seemed to be nothing but an 
 enclosure for sheep, and nowhere near a habita- 
 tion, though they followed it slowly along the hill- 
 side for some way. Even this, however, was a 
 break in the world of white blanket above and 
 broken ground underfoot, and suggested human- 
 ity, so that Bromley instinctively tried to quicken 
 his pace. But Mary was for the moment fagged 
 out. She had been at work most of the morning, 
 had walked more miles than they could calculate 
 over the Moor, and it was long past tea-time. She 
 sat down at the foot of the untidy wall in a dry- 
 spot, and looked up laughingly at Bromley, though 
 her face was even more colourless than usual. 
 
 " I can't go another yard! " she said. " Wait 
 until I've had a rest. Then I will." 
 
 " Poor little girl! " said Bromley involuntar- 
 ily. " I could curse myself for being the cause." 
 
 " Oh, rats ! I'm enjoying it. I shall be all right 
 in a minute. ' * 
 
 " You're a sportswoman, Mary, but I wish I 
 could get you out of it." He stood up, tall and
 
 194 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 anxious, his clean six feet of manhoocl rising over 
 the girl at his feet like a sentinel, and peered 
 through the white shroud that imprisoned them as 
 
 safely as iron walls. * * This d d fog must lift 
 
 some time ! "he muttered. 
 
 " For goodness' sake don't go away and leave 
 me ! You 'd be lost in a few yards, and Ave should 
 never find each other again." She caught at his 
 hand, and held it like a frightened child. " Sit 
 down and wait a bit till I can go on, ' ' she said. 
 
 He found a seat beside her, and his bigger frame 
 afforded her some shelter from the cold air it 
 was hardly a wind that lifted the wreathen mist 
 a little at times. The atmosphere was chilly with 
 moisture, and Mary's woollen jumper and the 
 white scarf were damp with it. They sat there in 
 silence for a time, Mary too glad to rest to trou- 
 ble much over their predicament, Jeff staring into 
 the fog with strained blue eyes. Suddenly he 
 turned to the girl, and looked at her for a long 
 minute. 
 
 " It's a curious world, isn't it? "he said at last, 
 deliberately. " The way that human beings are 
 flung into each other's lives, without apparent 
 purpose. Who would have thought that we should 
 be fog-bound on Dartmoor together, that day I 
 landed on your lawn and had the effrontery to 
 ask if we might take pictures? We might never 
 have met, but for that." 
 
 ''I'm jolly glad we did meet. You've been a 
 good friend to me, Jeff." 
 
 ''I'm not showing it very well just now! 
 I've only tired you out, and run the risk of your 
 catching a chill, through my carelessness. I won- 
 der if a man ever is a good friend to a woman, 
 even with the best intentions? "
 
 WANDERING FIRES 195 
 
 " I should be sorry to lose mine. I've more 
 men friends than women friends. ' ' 
 
 " I tried to be a good friend to a woman once, 
 and I did her a bad turn. ' ' 
 
 " How? " 
 
 " I married her." 
 
 Mary looked at him with interest. The fact that 
 a man was married had never interfered with her 
 intimacy with him, and in consequence it affected 
 her little. Men were not possible husbands to her 
 as yet, though they might be possible lovers. She 
 was a little excited and flattered by this confi- 
 dence from Bromley, and it took her thoughts off 
 the cold and the discomfort of her present sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 " I didn't know you were married, Jeffy," she 
 said kindly, her big child's eyes fixed on his face 
 with a kind of curiosity that it should look so 
 drawn and strange in the mist. " Tell me about 
 it. Was she on the stage ? ' ' 
 
 " No she was a girl I knew when I was living 
 at home, with my people. We had known each 
 other all our lives. Oh, it's the usual story she 
 was unhappy at home, and I thought she would 
 be better off with me. ' ' 
 
 " What happened? ' 
 
 " She left me after four years she couldn't 
 stand the theatrical life, and wanted a fixed home. 
 I haven't seen her for nearly ten years." 
 
 " Don't you know what became of her? " 
 
 " I used to make her an allowance, until she 
 wrote and told me that she didn't want it. I 
 concluded that she had found someone else to look 
 after her, and let it go at that. ' ' 
 
 11 You didn't try to free yourself? " 
 
 Bromley's face twisted oddly. " No," he said.
 
 196 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " It didn't seem worth while at the time. I had 
 had one venture at matrimony, and it had not 
 encouraged me to try it again. And divorce is 
 not a poor man's job." 
 
 " Perhaps she would have fought it, too," said 
 Mary with perfect frankness. " I don't suppose 
 you had been straight, on the stage, with a lot of 
 temptation." 
 
 * * Mary, I don 't like to hear a child like you talk- 
 ing about a man's temptations." 
 
 " Why not? I needn't be a fool because I'm 
 young, need I? " 
 
 " No, only it doesn't seem it doesn't come 
 well from your mouth. ' ' 
 
 She looked at him totally unembarrassed, but a 
 little puzzled by his mood. ' ' All right, Jeffy, ' ' she 
 said good-humouredly. " I'll talk like an early 
 Victorian grandmother if you like. But go on 
 telling me about yourself. You just let it drop, and 
 you've never seen her since? " 
 
 " We ran across each other once, about four 
 years ago. We didn't speak. I don't even know 
 if she saw me I suppose she did. ' ' 
 
 " Were you alone? ' 
 
 " No, I had a girl with me, as it chanced Nell 
 Grey. We were at Ullswater, taking pictures of 
 the lakes." 
 
 " Ah, yes, you used to go for excursions! " 
 
 Mary dropped her chin in her hands and looked 
 out into the wreathing fog that still wrapped the 
 world in a shroud. In her mind she did not see the 
 white blanket she saw the bare room in the farm- 
 house, with Nell's impassive figure in the window, 
 and the little still, dark face. Something of the 
 patience and endurance demanded of other women 
 struck her suddenly. " She took it lying down," 
 she thought. " No, she didn't she just set her
 
 WANDERING FIRES 197 
 
 teet 1 -and bore it. / should have banged about ! ' ' 
 
 There were no mental pictures in Bromley's 
 mind, nor did any significance attach to the fact 
 that he had gone about with Nell Grey during 
 the picture work at the Lakes. Had he seen it in 
 such a light he would not have spoken of it to Mary 
 Trefusis. She was looking at him rather keenly, 
 but his thoughts were abstractedly in the past, and 
 he failed to notice her expression. 
 
 * ' How was it you were doing picture work dur- 
 ing the war? " she said. " I thought you joined 
 up." 
 
 " Yes, I was in the A.S.C. The crowd I was in 
 was at Alexandria when the war broke out, and I 
 was mad to do something. I knew one of the big 
 merchants of the town who had a car and had 
 placed it at the service of the Government; but 
 he had a native driver who was debarred from 
 driving a British general, so he took me on instead, 
 and I drove an old brigadier who was awfully good 
 to me and brought me home with him after three 
 months of it so that I could enlist. I went into the 
 Isle of Wight Rifles, and they made me a sergeant 
 within a month; but the A.S.C. had thrown open 
 their commissioned ranks to all branches of the 
 army, so I applied in 1915 and was sent to the 
 training establishment at Aldershot. From there 
 I went back to Alexandria and the Canal ; but my 
 ill-luck decreed that I should get dysentery, and 
 I was invalided home. I went out again in 191G, 
 and finished my career with a strained heart. It's 
 not a great record, but it has left its mark." 
 
 He spoke lightly, but she caught a note of bitter- 
 ness in his voice, with unusual intuition. 
 
 * * What infernal luck ! You'd have liked to have 
 stayed! " 
 
 ' ' I always wanted to be a soldier. And I liked
 
 198 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 the work even though I never got to France." 
 
 Mary was silent again, thinking. For the first 
 time it came home to her with a biassed resentment 
 that men should be baulked of a career for lack of 
 means, though she could talk glibly in general 
 phrases of socialistic remedies for the handicap 
 of circumstances, like all the younger generation. 
 Such men as Eddie Thorne had the world open to 
 them, while Jefferson Bromley had been driven 
 to the alternative of a Bohemian life from an of- 
 fice stool, as she was quick enough to guess. It 
 seemed to her intolerable, just because she liked 
 the man ; and she turned to him with a new sym- 
 pathy that it was perhaps just as well he did not 
 see. His eyes were not on her face at the minute, 
 for they had been caught by something in the dim 
 white evening that was fast darkening round them. 
 
 ' ' Mary, ' ' he said, with a quickened sound in his 
 voice, ' ' Is that a light down there look ! to your 
 left." 
 
 She turned quickly and followed the direction 
 of his arm. For a minute some pale radiance 
 seemed to hang in the fog and then was utterly 
 obscured. It showed nebulous, indefinite, too near 
 the earth for any light of moon or stars even if the 
 mist had not obscured them, and even as Mary 
 strained her eyes to distinguish it, it appeared to 
 move, drifting in the fog like some will-o '-the-wisp. 
 
 " It looks like a wandering fire! " she ex- 
 claimed, excitement stringing her tired voice. 
 ' ' Come on, Jeff we had better follow it ! " 
 
 They were both on their feet with the words, 
 but Bromley laid his hand on her arm and re- 
 strained her. 
 
 " Wait a minute," he said. " It's gone again. 
 There is no use in plunging into the fog without 
 a guide. We are better off here, ' '
 
 WANDERING FIRES 199 
 
 They stood side by side in a tense silence, looking 
 into the white wall of nothingness. And still the 
 fog wreathed about them like a shroud. 
 
 " We are pixie-led! " said Mary, with a little 
 tremulous laugh. 
 
 1 i No there it is again to your right now ! ' 
 
 He seized the girl's hand and started in pursuit, 
 almost dragging her over the rough ground so that 
 she stumbled and clung to his arm. The light 
 expanded and quivered, then almost dwindled 
 away and then appeared again, drifting to and fro 
 before them in one place or another, but never sta- 
 tionary. It was, as Mary said, like being led by 
 the pixies of the Moor. Bromley plunged on reck- 
 lessly, being now pledged to the pursuit and afraid 
 to lose the light, and found himself going downhill 
 away from the sheltering w r all that had at least 
 seemed friendly in that waste of obscurity. A lit- 
 tle eerie feeling of dread began to creep over him, 
 and the chill damp felt its way to his heart. For 
 the war had laid its mark upon him as well as 
 others, and he was not the sound man he had been 
 before those brief years of service, though he 
 showed it little. The curious part was that they 
 never seemed to get nearer to the light, though 
 they almost ran, and all he could comfort himself 
 with was that they had not lost it. 
 
 1 ' It must lead us somewhere at last ! ' ' he said 
 desperately. 
 
 "We are following wandering fires!" said 
 Mary under her breath. She shivered a little, and 
 remembered what Thome had said to her at Roe- 
 hampton : ' ' You will follow wandering fires, but 
 you will always come back to me ! " They seemed 
 so far from civilisation out here in the fog on 
 Dartmoor that Eddie's vivid personality was 
 something incongruous, out of the picture. Life,
 
 200 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 at the moment, consisted of Jeff Bromley and her- 
 self and a world circumscribed by a white shroud. 
 She felt herself pressed against his side as he 
 steered her over dried heather and granite with 
 her hand under his arm, and their mad steps 
 seemed spellbound by that purposeless flame. 
 
 " It is no use it is only leading us further into 
 the Moor," she said, with a catch in her breath. 
 
 He slackened speed. " Would you like to give 
 it up? Can't you walk any further? " he said 
 anxiously. 
 
 " I don't mind but I feel in a dream." 
 
 "So do I!" 
 
 The quick, soft words seemed to slip from him 
 involuntarily, and then they were both silent, 
 stumbling on together in the white darkness. The 
 luring light hovered a minute in the mist as if 
 uncertain, dropped lower, and became stationary 
 for the first time. 
 
 " Stand still a moment," said Bromley hoarsely, 
 1 ' and let me go forward and see what is there. ' ' 
 
 11 No, I must come too. If you leave me I shall 
 lose you." 
 
 1 1 I will come back ' 
 
 But she clung to his arm and he was forced to 
 take her with him towards the sentinel flame. The 
 fog was still so thick that there was no visibility 
 beyond a foot or so around them, but as they ad- 
 vanced the light dwindled rather than increased, 
 and sharpened in outline, until it was a genuine 
 flame shining from some material source. Then 
 Bromley shouted, so suddenly that he startled his 
 companion, and ran the last few yards over the 
 rough grass to a three-sided shelter glooming up 
 on the hillside. 
 
 " Is there anybody there? For God's sake 
 show a light! We're lost in the fog," he said.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 201 
 
 The light burned steadily now, with no super- 
 natural agency, from the open shutter of a shep- 
 herd 's lantern ; and in the entrance to the shelter 
 stood an old moorsman, his sullen, suspicious face 
 peering at them under a ragged cap. On a bed 
 of rough bracken inside the hut lay a sick sheep, 
 and his errand was obvious even before he spoke, 
 in such broad dialect that Bromley had some diffi- 
 culty in understanding him or making himself 
 understood. 
 
 " He has come to look after his sheep his farm 
 is two miles off across the Moor," he said rapidly 
 to Mary, who still stood clinging to his arm me- 
 chanically. " He says we are only a mile from 
 our own farm house he passes it on his way back 
 and we can follow him. We must have been walk- 
 ing in circles for hours ! ' ' 
 
 11 It's a good thing it's only a mile," said Mary, 
 trying to laugh. " I couldn't walk much more! " 
 
 " I wonder if he has any food? Shall I ask 
 him? " 
 
 " Oh, no for heaven's sake! I couldn't eat 
 food he had carried about with him. All I want 
 is to get back to the farm. I'll eat then." 
 
 " You will go straight to bed," said Bromley 
 authoritatively, tucking her hand under his arm 
 again. " And I'll send Mrs. Thirlston to look 
 after you. ' ' 
 
 They waited till the old moorsman had tended 
 his sheep, and then followed him jealously over the 
 Moor, his lantern jiggering along in front of them 
 as it had done when they first started in pursuit 
 of it. It was the fog which had made it appear 
 so large and nebulous. The old man was surly 
 and taciturn, for he did not like " foreigners," 
 as he called anyone not born on the Moor ; but they 
 pressed hard on his heels, determined not to lose
 
 202 WANDEBING FIEES 
 
 him, and indifferent to his lack of goodwill so long 
 as he took them home. Mary felt at last as if she 
 were almost asleep. The dream feeling of the 
 white shroud over a world that was blotted out en- 
 veloped her until she did not know if the ground 
 were broken, or her tired feet stumbled, or why 
 the last half-mile grew easier. Something seemed 
 to lift her over the rough places, until she was 
 gradually aware that Bromley had passed his arm 
 round her and was strongly supporting her. It 
 did not seem to matter. Nothing mattered but 
 her recognition of the last hundred yards of road 
 and the lights from the farm windows, and then 
 the door opening to show a group of startled faces 
 in the aperture. She heard herself say " Thank 
 God! " with a little laugh that was half a sob, 
 and Alicia Thirlston took her from Bromley and 
 helped her upstairs in her turn, giving orders in 
 her composed, decisive voice even as she did so. 
 
 11 Go and get some hot whisky and water, Mr. 
 Cunningham. Miss Grey, will you tell the cook to 
 send up some supper on a tray, and have the hot- 
 water bottles filled? Mr. Bromley, please look 
 after yourself, and try to save a chill." 
 
 Jeff Bromley followed them to the foot of the 
 stairs. " You will take care of her, Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston? She is worn out." 
 
 " Yes, of course. Don't let them keep you talk- 
 ing before you change your clothes. You cannot 
 afford to run risks after your experiences in the 
 war. Even Miss Tref usis is damp all over. ' ' Her 
 thin arm under Mary's felt like nervous steel. 
 She was stronger than she looked, this old lady. 
 She helped the girl to get straight into bed with- 
 out a single question, and as soon as the hot- 
 bottles came up placed them at her feet and sides.
 
 WANDERING FIEES 203 
 
 The sense of warmth and rest made Mary drowsy 
 almost at once, and she only roused to eat her 
 supper and drink the spirit Mrs. Thirlston had 
 prescribed. 
 
 " Were you very frightened about us? " she 
 asked, looking up at the housekeeper with lovely, 
 sleepy eyes. " We've been lost since about four 
 o 'clock, and we sat under a stone wall forever. I 
 thought it was the end of the world, and that we 
 were in our shrouds. ' ' 
 
 " I am very glad Mr. Bromley was with you,'* 
 was all Mrs. Thirlston said, quietly. 
 
 " He told me about his wife." A momentary 
 flush of excitement and satisfaction drove the 
 pallor from Mary's sweet face. " Did you know 
 he was married? I believe I am the only person 
 here he has told ! ' ' 
 
 11 A compliment." 
 
 " Yes. Of course it's in confidence." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Is he all right? He was awfully good to me." 
 
 " I will go down and see that he is all right, if 
 you will go to sleep." 
 
 "I'm nearly asleep now," said Mary, yawning. 
 She snuggled down into her pillows, and smiled 
 like the angel she certainly was not. Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston tucked her up carefully and kissed her be- 
 cause she was so pretty. She had always been a 
 plain woman herself, with a passionate love for 
 the beautiful. 
 
 Two minutes later Mary was sound asleep, and 
 the housekeeper took away the lamp and closed 
 her door. But, as she went downstairs again to 
 minister to Jeff Bromley in his turn, her long up- 
 per lip was drawn a thought tighter, as was usual 
 when she was disturbed.
 
 204 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " When a man used to talk about his wife to 
 me," she said to herself, " I always knew that he 
 thought it necessary to remind himself of her 
 existence! " Her green eyes grew infinitely wise 
 and old. " It had better have been Mr. Edward 
 Thome who was lost with her on the Moor," she 
 said. " It had far, far better have been Eddie 
 Thome I "
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MARY'S chief regret in leaving Dartmoor wa? 
 that she must part from Mrs. Thirlston, for 
 the housekeeper would not stay with the 
 company when they went into rooms by and for 
 themselves; it was only when Block took a whole 
 house in a locality where they were at work, that 
 he engaged somebody to run it. 
 
 " You must come and see me in London when 
 you feel inclined, ' ' said the old lady to Mary. * * I 
 have a permanent room in Hammersmith where I 
 shall be in the spring, but fortunately for me I 
 have another engagement as a kind of duenna to 
 tour with Laken Fox's girls when I leave you. 
 They are quite young and headstrong, and I shall 
 not be of the slightest use. But Fox is an anxious 
 father, and still clings to Victorian institutions 
 such as chaperons." 
 
 " Is that the dramatist? " 
 
 " Yes. He has written a play with parts for 
 both his girls, who are much too young to play 
 them. It is going on tour for a trial, and I am 
 going with it. ' ' 
 
 "I'm sorry! " said Mary selfishly. " I wish 
 you were going to be in London right away. Do 
 give me your address, anyhow." 
 
 4 ' It is only a large room under the roof that I 
 share with the sparrows," said Mrs. Thirlston 
 as she wrote it down. " But I always manage to 
 keep it on for the sake of somewhere to put my 
 
 205
 
 206 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 boxes. Even if you learn to live in boxes you 
 can't store them. I think my attic was originally 
 a warehouse, or some building with lofts, the ar- 
 rangement is so quaint. It has a window opening 
 into the next loft, which is so badly ventilated that 
 my neighbour sometimes begs me to leave it 
 open. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Who is your neighbour f ' 
 
 " She varies. But if she is not on the stage 
 also, she is frequently in a milliner's workroom. 
 The worst type has visitors, and forgets that I 
 am a bored audience to her conversations. Then 
 I bang the window close.'* 
 
 * l Perhaps I shall come and live in the room next 
 door some day," said Mary, with no premonition 
 of despair. " And I shall leave the window open 
 on purpose, and have Eddie Thorne to tea, and 
 say the most awful things to shock you! ' 
 
 Alicia Thirlston turned her green eyes on 
 Mary's radiant face with the oldest of all her old 
 expressions. " Mr. Thorne could not shock me 
 because I gather that he is a gentleman," she said. 
 " I never quarrel with people's morals it is only 
 their manners that I dislike. If you had Mr. Cun- 
 ningham to tea, now, I should be really outraged ! 
 He might come in a sky-blue shirt that I had been 
 obliged to mend." 
 
 " I won't have Mr. Cunningham," said Mary, 
 laughing. " I promise you." 
 
 The company went back to London at the end of 
 October and took up the winter's work at the 
 studio. Mr. Block had bought the rights of a book 
 by a well-known author and was casting it with 
 his usual attention to detail and with a ruthless 
 disregard of heartburning in his cast. He had not 
 been able to go to Dartmoor, and was relying on
 
 WANDERING FIEES 207 
 
 Bromley to report on the work done rather than 
 on the operator or his nephew. 
 
 " What do you think of Mary Trefusis? Is she 
 capable of anything bigger than Angelica? " he 
 asked the actor in confidence. 
 
 " She has much more training and experience, 
 and she is shaping better, ' ' said Bromley in a non- 
 committal tone. 
 
 1 ' Could she play a big part f ' ' 
 
 " What sort of part? ' 
 
 " The part of a woman, and not a child. Con- 
 found the girl! I wish she would fall in love. I 
 want her to feel, and express her feeling. She has 
 the emotional face, and it is all locked up through 
 lack of experience." 
 
 " I think " Bromley lit a cigarette with de- 
 liberation " that Miss Trefusis is too young as 
 yet to play emotional parts." 
 
 " That means that you don't want her to risk it. 
 What 's come to you, Jeff? She was your protegee, 
 and now you are going back on her." 
 
 " Not a bit of it, my dear Bill. But I naturally 
 do not want my protegee to fail." 
 
 Block did not look at him, but his big hand 
 thrummed on the table with the pencil he was hold- 
 ing, and the lack of expression on his face was 
 more expressive than words to anyone who knew 
 him. 
 
 " Then I should have to fall back on Egan," he 
 said. 
 
 " I think it would be safer. Of course, you know 
 best, dear old boy." 
 
 The manager rose ponderously, and turned his 
 shrewd eyes once on the other man's more mobile 
 face. 
 
 " Of course I do know best," he said. " And
 
 208 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 therefore, Jeff, I am going to try Mary Trefusis 
 in the part after all ! " 
 
 " It will cause a lot of jealousy! " Bromley ex- 
 claimed anxiously. 
 
 " She must run the gauntlet of that. Pshaw! 
 she will like it she is just the sort of girl who 
 would think it fun. ' ' 
 
 " It isn't fun when women get jealous." 
 
 " Look here, Bromley, don't try to mother the 
 girl. It is not your business, and you are only 
 laying up trouble for yourself. As I understand 
 it, she has got to make a living, and she can't do 
 that in cottonwool. Let her stand alone. She has 
 got to do it sooner or later." 
 
 Bromley tried to laugh. " She would tell you 
 that she had learned to do that long since," he 
 said. " But you can't see a child straying into the 
 midst of heavy traffic without an instinct to snatch 
 it away." 
 
 11 So you've been snatching," said the manager 
 slowly. " Don't worry about Mary Trefusis' emo- 
 tional power, anyway. I'll lay you a sovereign 
 she plays the part all right, and justifies your in- 
 troduction. Of course ' he crossed the room 
 with wonderful lightness for a heavy man, and 
 struck a match on the mantelpiece " you are 
 playing with her." 
 
 " Thanks," said Bromley, with the face he wore 
 when at cards. " I will do my best to help her 
 through." 
 
 Mary was, naturally, flushed into sudden tri- 
 umph when Mr. Block sent for her to talk over the 
 new film and offered her the principal woman's 
 part in it ; but it was significant of a certain alter- 
 ation in her that her exultation was succeeded by 
 depression. She had lost the happiness of igno- 
 rance and not gained assurance in its place. She
 
 WANDERING FIRES 209 
 
 did not think that she could play the part, and she 
 dreaded failure. 
 
 " It will be worse to be offered a free kick and 
 not to make good, than to go on walking through 
 Angelicas," she said to Gladys Smythe. 
 
 11 You will make good you won't fail, Mary! ' 
 Mrs. Smythe 's voice trembled with her earnest- 
 ness, and she looked up at her taller idol with the 
 eyes of a devotee. She was more engrossed in the 
 part than Mary herself, and perhaps it was due 
 to her enthusiasm that Mary took it so much more 
 seriously than " Angelica," and threw all her ca- 
 pabilities into the work instead of allowing herself 
 to be distracted by the allurements of London. 
 
 ' ' If we can only keep her to it, she has a hun- 
 dred to one better chance than if she rags herself 
 out in town the minute the work is over," Brom- 
 ley confided to Gladys. " You are my best help, 
 for she is fond of you and hates to disappoint 
 you. ' ' 
 
 < . 
 
 We must keep her to it. If the part would 
 only take hold of her as it has of me ! But then, ' ' 
 said Mrs. Smythe, with an innocence that nearly 
 betrayed Bromley, " it is a married woman's part, 
 and I do not gee how you can expect a girl to un- 
 derstand it." 
 
 " It is simply a question of forbidden love, isn't 
 it? " said Jeff gently. " A w r oman might be un- 
 married, and still find love forbidden. ' ' 
 
 The application was a literal one to Gladys 
 Smythe 's mind. She looked at him with startled 
 eyes. " You don't mean that horrid man! " 
 
 " What horrid man? " Bromley was as shocked 
 as she had been. 
 
 " Thome." 
 
 " Good heavens, no! " 
 
 " Well, I was always afraid but thank God
 
 210 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 he's gone. She told me he was at Monte Carlo, 
 gambling or something, because his wife had run 
 away from him." 
 
 " Poor devil! " 
 
 " I really don't wonder. Only I wish the 
 woman had stayed to look after him. If he were 
 in London Mary would be racing all over the place 
 with him." 
 
 " It's not only Thorne. It's every man who 
 knows her." 
 
 11 I don't think she will go out much just now 
 though," said Mrs. Smythe, breaking down into 
 a rueful smile. " She says she is shabby, and 
 can 't buy any new clothes until she gets the bigger 
 salary." 
 
 Bromley's face quickened to distress. " Poor 
 child! Is she really hard up? I was afraid she 
 would feel it." 
 
 " Oh, not for necessaries but the things she is 
 used to. / think she looks beautiful, and different 
 to everyone else." 
 
 " Yes, she is different," said Bromley, from the 
 bottom of his heart and convictions. He had 
 realised the difference between Mary's tailored 
 mourning and the coats and skirts and blouses 
 worn by Eobin Ward and Ellen Grey. Even Miss 
 Egan was bourgeoise compared with her. Brom- 
 ley thought it was the simplicity of Mary's appear- 
 ance, the never wearing too much or, for that mat- 
 ter, too little; and he did not realise the cost of 
 cut and material, or that Miss Trefusis had always 
 had her clothes from reliable houses and had 
 started with what would be technically termed * ' a 
 good wardrobe " on the stage. Four or five 
 months' wear had not rendered them really 
 shabby, even though she had used them for picture 
 work; but she was accustomed to replace as soon
 
 WANDERING FIEES 211 
 
 as she tired of things, rather than because they 
 were worn, and it was a new and disconcerting ex- 
 perience to find that she must say no to herself 
 for once. To do her justice, she had not run up 
 bills as yet, and she took her restrictions good- 
 humouredly, though she did not like them. When 
 she played lead, she would of course get the larger 
 salary for which she told Gladys Smythe that she 
 was waiting, but William Block never paid a 
 novice more than she was worth, and the swollen 
 incomes attributed to cinema stars are not gained 
 until they are established favourites with the pub- 
 lic. Nor does the production of a film equal the 
 duration of a successful play. Mary might earn 
 fifty or sixty pounds for her work in the new pic- 
 tures ; but she had begun to realise that her gowns 
 had cost her twenty, and that a girl in her former 
 position does not have to calculate the expenses of 
 a home as well. It was, anyhow, a laughing excuse 
 for refusing invitations she did not want to accept, 
 and Mrs. Smythe was right when she said that 
 Mary would not be always running about to tea- 
 parties or dancing-clubs unless she knew that she 
 was properly turned out. Of course the young men 
 of the company implored her daily to accompany 
 them after the day's work was over, but, as 
 Thorne had said, " It is BO easy to say no when 
 there is no inclination to say yes ! ' ' and Mary 
 did not in the least care about Arnold Grey or 
 Percy Cunningham as an escort. Her relations 
 with Bromley were as perfectly friendly as ever, 
 and she appropriated him as her own property 
 without the least idea of selfishness or that sho 
 might be making a heavy demand upon him. If 
 she had a conscience-prick it was that she had 
 taken him from Nell Grey; but then it might have 
 been only in the country that they had gone for
 
 212 WANDEBING FIRES 
 
 excursions together, a chance thing that her ap- 
 pearance in their lives had not really spoiled. She 
 had grown dependent upon Bromley during their 
 sojourn on the Moor, and she did not relax her 
 claim on him when they came back to Roehampton. 
 The first breach in their friendship was caused 
 by his forgetting the date of her birthday, an in- 
 conceivable carelessness to the spoilt child whose 
 egotism resented the neglect as a personal slight. 
 The birthday fell happily on a Sunday, and she 
 had planned to take Bromley into the Club and 
 play golf with him, looking to Eddie Thome to 
 supply the passes. She had written to Eddie at 
 Monte Carlo to ask for them some time before, and 
 received the answer by a happy coincidence on 
 the very date, the postman having given it in next 
 door on the Saturday evening, by mistake. 
 Thofne was generally happy in his coincidences, 
 but it looked as if he had taken some trouble to 
 time his letter, at least. He wrote very kindly, 
 and in his usual manner : 
 
 " MY DEAR MOLLY, 
 
 " Many thanks for letter. Much appreciated. 
 Best of luck to you and wishes and merry times 
 for the birthday. I should very much like to have 
 a chat and see you. No chance of it at present, 
 I'm afraid. I enclose the passes, which by good 
 chance I happened to have with me, but I don't 
 like it one bit your going there with another man. 
 Who is he? Afraid you will have to pay on his 
 pass anyhow. I suppose it is wintry in England. 
 Not too warm here at night, though hot in the day. 
 People wrap themselves up in all sorts of things to 
 keep the wind out, but no use at all. You might 
 just as well go about with nothing on, and you 
 would be much more popular too. The hotel
 
 213 
 
 is full, but an uninteresting crowd. Nothing to 
 look at, so I don't look. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " EDDIE." 
 
 There was not a word of his personal tragedy, 
 and Mary had not offered him a useless sympathy 
 save that her own letter had been more affectionate 
 thr.n usual. She was as pleased as a child that his 
 letter should arrive actually on her birthday morn- 
 ing, and flung it at Gladys Smythe that Thorne 
 would never forget her. But her shining eyes and 
 the one dimple in play disarmed Gladys, who was 
 fatuous enough to tell her that no man would, and 
 to have no doubt of her own assertion. Mary had 
 mentioned the date to Bromley weeks beforehand, 
 and taken it for granted that he would be at her 
 disposal for the whole day, as would certainly have 
 been the case had not Block himself asked him to 
 lunch and to discuss certain business connected 
 with the new film. Bromley was his leading man, 
 and they were such intimate friends that the man- 
 ager had even taken advice from him at times, a 
 compliment he paid to very few. Jeff had for- 
 gotten the fact that it was Mary's birthday, and, 
 thinking that he had no engagement, he went off to 
 lunch with Block without another thought, and the 
 day wore on and he never appeared at Laurel 
 Lodge or even sent an apology. 
 
 Mary had been looking forward to her golf. 
 She played it as well as she played other games, 
 and had missed the outdoor pursuits to which she 
 was accustomed. Knowing that Bromley, like all 
 actors, was as keen as she, she had not troubled to 
 tell him her plans for the day if she got the Eoe- 
 hampton passes in time, but had left it as a pleas- 
 ant surprise. They would play all the morning,
 
 214 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 lunch at the Club, and perhaps play another round 
 afterwards before returning for the glorified tea 
 that Mrs. Smythe prepared. The evening held 
 further possibilities, to be discussed during the 
 day. When Bromley did not put in an appearance, 
 or write or telephone, Mrs. Smythe was dismayed, 
 almost to the point of thinking that he had met 
 with a serious accident; but Mary's first indigna- 
 tion deepened to a white heat of anger as the short 
 winter's day progressed and she found the 
 precious hours wasted like her plans. She was 
 angry as only a woman can be who feels that she 
 has put herself in the wrong by taking too much 
 for granted. Gladys had never seen her in a tem- 
 per before, and regarded her with a kind of curi- 
 ous admiration. It was magnificent. She wished 
 that Bromley could see it ! her allegiance divided 
 between indignation for Mary and a conviction 
 that the actor was quite incapable of discourtesy 
 and was suffering for a mistake. 
 
 The first that Bromley knew of his disgrace was 
 a note from Mary which greeted him on his return 
 from spending the day with Block. It was frankly 
 rude, and had no reserve or dignity in its word- 
 ing ; but it being top late to go in person and make 
 his peace he wrote in answer, and the reply was on 
 Mary's breakfast-tray next morning, having been 
 left by hand. 
 
 * ' I am on my knees to you about your birthday 
 I never remember people's birthdays. I was 
 the busiest little thing imaginable yesterday, with 
 Block, and had forgotten the date. I deserve all 
 that you say, and you shall make me do anything 
 you like as a penance. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " JEFF."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 215 
 
 Even then lie had not realised the enormity of 
 his behaviour, since he thought it a matter for 
 apology and forgiveness. He did not even wait to 
 hear what sentence he should get. But when 
 he reached the studio he found Mary too taken up 
 with Arnold Grey to do more than recognise his 
 presence, and as unconcerned with his penitence 
 as she was with him. Bromley's very real regret 
 and annoyance with himself became tinged with 
 discomfort of another sort as he passed them sit- 
 ting on the stairs outside the studio, waiting for 
 their summons. 
 
 " Would you like to come to Dizzy's to-night? ' 
 young Grey was saying. " It's lots of fun. I 
 should like to take you to Dizzy's." 
 
 " What is Dizzy's? " 
 
 ' * A dancing-club, of course. All the profession 
 goes. It's a bit hot, but you don't mind that? " 
 
 Bromley's face was quite expressionless, though 
 behind that excellent mask he was debating 
 whether he should go back to the couple and risk 
 more fury. But there was a great mirror leaning 
 against the wall outside the studio, a stage prop- 
 erty, and in it he caught a glimpse of Mary's face. 
 Thank heaven ! That young ass Arnold was guy- 
 ing his own show ! 
 
 " No, thanks," he heard Miss Trefusis say in 
 her young, uncompromising voice, " I've been to 
 every dancing-club in London worth going to, and 
 I don't care for those that are not." 
 
 11 Euchred! " said Bromley to himself, with 
 satisfaction, and he passed on to his work as if 
 Mary mattered as little to him as he to her. 
 
 But he would not have been quite so satisfied 
 had he known the peculiar workings of Mary's 
 mind. Her father had once compared her to a 
 game of billiards : "If you want to make a break
 
 216 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 with Mary, you must cannon off a cushion before 
 running into a pocket," he said. " Her tempera- 
 ment is all angles, and not always natural ones." 
 The result of Grey's invitation was that he was 
 snubbed, and Dizzy's relegated to the nethermost 
 pit of the Impossible. But when Mary reached 
 home that day she found a much-travelled letter in 
 an unknown hand, whose signature puzzled her 
 extremely at first. " Oliver Ogilvie." Now who 
 on earth was Oliver Ogilvie, and what on earth did 
 he mean by a lasting impression from one meeting, 
 and haunting the Stores for a glimpse of her I "I 
 haven't been to the Stores for six months not 
 since father died and the ticket lapsed," she said 
 to herself. " The last time I was there . . . 
 Why ! it 's the youth who bought the muff-chain ! ' 
 
 Her brows were still stormy from the memory 
 of Bromley's delinquencies, but the corners of her 
 lips began to lift ominously to anyone who knew 
 her. What a little cad Nell's brother was to ask 
 her to go to a second-rate dancing-club! Those 
 people didn't know . . . What was Dizzy's? 
 Robin Ward had been there she was talking 
 about it one day to little Mrs. Paterson, who 
 did piece-work for them at times. Nell didn't 
 go to night clubs Nell was a prig. " I suppose 
 Jeff Bromley would not approve, that's why," 
 thought Mary. Let him disapprove it was no 
 business of his. . . . 
 
 Mary took up her writing-case deliberately and 
 answered Oliver Ogilvie 's letter. 
 
 " DEAB ME. OGILVIE, 
 
 " Your letter has followed me round. Of course 
 I remember you and helping you to buy a muff- 
 chain for a friend of yours, at the Stores. I hope 
 she liked it. I thought it was charming. A lot of
 
 WANDERING FIRES 217 
 
 changes have taken place in my life since I saw you 
 that are rather curious. I am on the cinema stage, 
 and appearing in pictures. Perhaps some day 
 you '11 see me in one, and recognise me. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 11 MAHY TKEFUSIS. 
 
 1 ' By the way, do you know a dancing club called 
 Dizzy's? I have never been there, but a lot of 
 cinema people go. I want to hear what it is like. ' ' 
 
 You will observe from this letter that she did 
 not want to see what Dizzy's was like. Oh, no! 
 she only wanted to hear about it, from Mr. Ogil- 
 vie's more masculine experience. The letter wa,s 
 posted that evening, and must have reached Mr. 
 Ogilvie by the devil's agency next morning, since 
 it was a thousand to one chance that he should be 
 in the club where it was addressed. Mary's anger 
 had not had time to simmer down before she re- 
 ceived an answer sufficiently abject to be as balm 
 to her pride. Might he ask her to dine with him 
 and take her to Dizzy's? She would be all right 
 with him it was not a place where ladies could go 
 unescorted. She might even be amused, and he 
 would take such good care of her. If she knew 
 what pleasure she would be giving him she would 
 surely say yes! " Do please say yes! It means 
 nothing to you, and so much to me.'* (He was a 
 nice boy, after all.) There was a paid telegram 
 form enclosed. Mary wired " Yes." 
 
 Bromley endured the wretched relations be- 
 tween them for twenty-four hours, and then he 
 went to Laurel Lodge to make his peace, since 
 Mary would not speak to him at the studio, 
 though she had dropped Arnold Grey as rapidly 
 as she had taken him up. But Mrs. Smytho 
 greeted him with dismay.
 
 218 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " She has gone out to-night, and I don't know 
 where, or with whom. Oh, Mr. Bromley, why 
 didn't you turn up on her birthday ! ' ' 
 
 * ' Because, like seven asses, I forgot all about it. 
 She told me the date so long ago that it got 
 crowded out.'* 
 
 " You can't tell her that! " 
 
 " Of course not. She won't speak to me as it 
 is." He added savagely: " She will have to, 
 to-morrow. It's the first rehearsal of the new pic- 
 ture and her big part. She plays with me. ' ' 
 
 " She will be upset, and play so badly! And 
 she will be tired too she does not expect to get 
 back till late." 
 
 " You have no idea where she is? " 
 
 " Only that she went up to town half an hour 
 ago. ' ' 
 
 It was then half -past seven. Bromley shut his 
 mouth into its hardest lines and walked back to his 
 rooms, where he changed into evening-dress and 
 ate some food which could hardly be called a din- 
 ner. He had begun to doubt his own security in 
 Mary's refusal of Dizzy's, though he did not know 
 with whom she had gone. It was worth trying, 
 anyhow. 
 
 When he entered the night club dancing was 
 already going on intermittently between the tables 
 where people were drinking and smoking. Jeff 
 was hardly inside the doors before he was rec- 
 ognised, and a lady, nodding to him, deserted her 
 partner to join him. 
 
 " Mr. Bromley! Never saw you here before. 
 You Ve forgotten me. Met you in Alexandria just 
 before the war when you were with Burgess. Lot- 
 tie Mills of the ' Scrag-end ' you know! " 
 
 " Oh, yes yes, of course." Bromley's smile 
 was no less charming for the fact that he was using
 
 WANDERING FIRES 219 
 
 his full six feet to see over the heads of the dancers 
 to discover if Mary were present. * ' How are you, 
 Lottie? Got a shop in London now! " 
 
 "I'm on at the Friv. Give me a turn, Mr. 
 Bromley. ' ' She lifted a fat white arm to his shoul- 
 der, hardly waiting for his consent, and moved 
 with him into the middle of the hall, dancing ex- 
 quisitely, for it was her profession. Jeff had ac- 
 cepted the invitation because it enabled him to 
 get into the thick of the throng and see who was 
 there, and they dandled in each other's arms for 
 some minutes as people do in modern dancing, 
 hardly advancing round the room. He thought 
 that Lottie liked being seen with him because he 
 was a well-known " London man " on the legiti- 
 mate stage before he took to cinema work, and 
 as his absent blue eyes looked over her fluffy little 
 head he did not know that she made a movement 
 to cuddle herself closer in his arms, or that her 
 honest, vulgar little heart beat faster because his 
 hand rested on her naked shoulder. Jeff Bromley 
 had had as much attention as other good-looking 
 actors ; but if it did not interest him he was hardly 
 aware of it. And at the present moment he was 
 looking for a tall, fair girl in a black gown, with 
 a pale vivid face and wide eyes that were not so 
 empty as six months ago. . . . 
 
 Other partners asked him to dance, or hinted 
 their readiness when he got rid of Lottie so that 
 he had tangoed and fox-trotted and hesitated in the 
 waltz for half an hour before he found himself at 
 the further end of the hall outside a recess where 
 something seemed to be going on. There were two 
 men standing at the entrance watching a couple 
 who were drinking liqueurs and smoking by a 
 small table within. Jeff looked at the men because 
 they were plainly not actors, but of a type which
 
 220 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 drifts into places like Dizzy's to see life in another 
 phase. They were smart men, both of them, with 
 something of the racing stable about them and 
 more than one bottle of champagne inside. Their 
 voices were not sufficiently lowered to be inaudible 
 either to Bromley or the couple beyond them. 
 
 " Saw her up river last spring with Thorne," 
 one of them exclaimed as Bromley drew near 
 them. " Knew I'd seen her somewhere. I'll lay 
 you a fiver it's the same." 
 
 " If Eddie Thorne takes a pretty woman about 
 she 'd better put both legs into one stocking ! ' ' 
 said the other. 
 
 There was a double movement, from Bromley 
 and the man who was sitting with Mary Trefusis. 
 Jeff had caught her face almost as the racing man 
 spoke, and saw her companion as he rose abruptly 
 and faced the intruders a slight youth, hardly 
 more than a boy, with nothing very prepossessing 
 about him but honest eyes and a scarlet anger in 
 his face. He was a complete stranger to Brom- 
 ley, who was conscious of relief that he was not 
 Arnold Grey or Cunningham. He saw in the same 
 instant that he could not interfere, and that Mary's 
 escort could and would. The short, sharp words 
 between the three men were so tangled that he 
 hardly heard more than broken sentences " If 
 you are speaking of the lady with me . . ." 
 " Damn you! I don't know you! " . . . " Apolo- 
 gise, or take the consequences ! ' ' before one man 
 had struck another (he did not himself know 
 who), and two of them were down on the floor 
 fighting as fiercely as any roughs in the East End. 
 There was a rush of people to see what was going 
 on, the dancing stopped, and the officials were try- 
 ing to part the combatants. In the midst of whicli 
 Jeff's eyes met Mary's, large and more excited
 
 WANDERING FIRES 221 
 
 than frightened, and in another moment her hand 
 was on his arm. l ' Come with me quickly ! " he 
 said. " I will get you out of this." 
 
 He wrapped her cloak round her even as he 
 pulled her through the crowd, and by sheer force 
 of his height and physical strength got her across 
 the hall and out of the club, without pausing to 
 see what had become of her escort. As she felt the 
 night air blowing on her face she gave a little gasp, 
 and she faltered as if faint; but he hurried her 
 along the quiet street until by luck he found an 
 empty taxi and, hailing it, put her in. By the time 
 he had followed her and closed the door she turned 
 a perfectly composed face to him. 
 
 ' ' I hope Mr. Ogilvie will not get into trouble on 
 my account," she said. 
 
 ' ' It is his affair, ' ' he answered with a set mouth. 
 " He should not have taken you there if he could 
 not save you from annoyance." 
 
 " But I asked him I would go ! " 
 
 " You might have asked me but I certainly 
 should not have let you go ! " 
 
 She looked into his face curiously, and saw that 
 it was true. It gave her a little thrill of fear and 
 delight, a new stir of feeling after her anger with 
 him. They sat in silence for a minute while the 
 taxi rolled smoothly through the decorous streets 
 down to Victoria. When he spoke at last he as- 
 tonished her by a remark that seemed to her of 
 secondary importance. 
 
 " I am very sorry for what those two drunken 
 swine said of Mr. Thome, Mary. I do not believe 
 it is true, and I know that he is a friend of yours. ' ' 
 
 She did not reply, not through any sense of hu- 
 miliation or embarrassment, but rather with a 
 blank realisation of the difference in their point of 
 view. It had been unpleasant to be the subject of
 
 222 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 remark and the cause of a drunken row in such a 
 place as Dizzy's. But as to the actual comment on 
 Eddie Thorne, it would, at another time, have 
 amused her, if anything. She had no doubt that it 
 was true in a general sense, and she was young 
 enough to have a secret admiration for Thorne as 
 a fast man rather than any shrinking from the 
 idea. He had never made serious love to her 
 while staying in her father's house, it is true, but 
 she had sometimes felt the situation trembled on 
 the border of something forbidden, and had not 
 quite discouraged the excitement even if she had 
 not provoked it. Thorne was sufficiently a gentle- 
 man to remember his obligations to his absent 
 host, and in the first weeks of his acquaintance 
 with Mary he had only flirted by looks and words 
 usually effective enough from him. It was not 
 until the day at Roehampton that he had even 
 kissed her; but then it must be remembered that 
 he was deeply in love with Petrova during the 
 whole of his periodical friendship with Mary. In 
 the frank depths of her own mind she thought it 
 quite possible that her relations with him might 
 have been more difficult if circumstances had not 
 come between them, and she even wondered if she 
 would have done what other girls of her ac- 
 quaintance had done and not been found out. 
 There was so much liberty nowadays that it was 
 a matter of personal choice; and Eddie was 
 " that sort of man." She did not flinch from it; 
 but she had no answer to give Bromley. 
 
 He took her back to Roehampton with a certain 
 tender care that she felt was accentuated to con- 
 sole her for what had happened; and though she 
 did not need the consolation, the added chivalry 
 gave her an unusual, exalted feeling. It was 
 not until they were walking quietly home from
 
 WANDERING FIEES 223 
 
 Putney station that lie referred to their quarrel. 
 
 " Mary, are you going to forgive me? " he said 
 suddenly, and in the eyes looking down on her 
 there was something new, less guarded, and almost 
 yearning. 
 
 The girl's lips quivered with the succession of 
 feelings that she had gone through, and which had 
 left her more emotional than usual. 
 
 " I think I have forgiven you," she said. " But 
 you were a beast, Jeff ! ' 
 
 11 I know I was. You can't say anything to me 
 I haven't said to myself." He drew her hand 
 through his arm and pressed it against his side 
 with a little fierce impulse. " You mustn't quar- 
 rel with me, Maiy. I simply can't bear it." 
 
 " Can't you? " she said, with a hint of triumph 
 in her voice. " I wasn't very happy, myself. I 
 don 't want to quarrel, Jeffy. ' ' 
 
 She wondered whether he would offer to kiss and 
 be friends again. Almost any other man she knew 
 would have suggested it, and she would most casu- 
 ally have said no to them as in this case she was 
 faintly aware that she might say yes. Eddie was 
 right again : " It is so easy to say no when there 
 is no inclination to say yes! ' : But when they 
 reached Laurel Lodge he did not even come inside 
 the door, though there was a propitious dark hall 
 in which to say good-night. He stood and looked 
 at her with that stirred face until his trouble 
 seemed to reach her also, and she turned her head 
 away, restlessly. 
 
 " Don't be late at rehearsal, Mary," he said, in 
 an odd voice. " It's our big scenes together, you 
 know the first rehearsal. I shall be waiting for 
 you. I hope you won't be very tired from to- 
 night? " 
 
 " I shall be all right," she said, still half ex-
 
 224 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 pectant of she knew not what. " Good-night, 
 Jeffy." ^ 
 
 He raised his soft hat as she entered the dark 
 hall, but still stood a moment looking after her as 
 if in a dream. Although he did not intend it, the 
 thwarted feeling he had raised in Mary Trefusis 
 was the best stimulant he could have given her 
 for success in the* pictures. She was obliged to 
 throw into the mimic scenes the unsatisfied senses 
 he had wakened in her, and to act what she had 
 not experienced was her only outlet. She sur- 
 prised herself a little by her realisation of the part, 
 and the new meaning there seemed to be in the 
 actions and words of the heroine words that 
 seemed to come so naturally to express herself, 
 though when she had played ' ' Angelica ' ' she had 
 found the extemporary speeches the most difficult 
 part of her work. But she frightened Jefferson 
 Bromley behind the perfect mask of his acting face 
 and unbetraying manner. 
 
 ' * My God ! she is a woman and not a girl when 
 she plays with me ! " he said in his heart. ' ' What 
 have we done? . . . What are we doing? ..." 
 
 And William Block, watching the performance 
 from beneath a sheltering hand over his searching 
 eyes, was very nearly satisfied. 
 
 " I shall win that sovereign, Jeff! " he said to 
 himself.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MES. CARPENTER came away from the 
 gaming-tables the richer by twenty louis, 
 and congratulated herself upon her strength 
 of mind in not staking again, though she knew 
 perfectly well that she would go back to the tables 
 to-morrow and lose it all, and more. For she was 
 a gambler by instinct, though she said she went 
 to Monte Carlo to study character in the faces 
 there rather than to play, because it amused and 
 interested her. If she deceived herself under this 
 plea she did not deceive her husband, who 
 shrugged his shoulders and played bridge at the 
 hotel which he infinitely preferred. Between them 
 they generally lost as much income as would es- 
 cape the tax in England, and they called this 
 pleasure. 
 
 The March evening was warm for a change 
 there had been a bitter wind after sunset of late 
 and the band in the concert hall was playing 
 Berlioz' " Faust " as Mrs. Carpenter strolled out 
 into the gardens. There were plenty of people in 
 the hall, listening to " Faust " in preference to 
 bearing the heat of the Casino, but she sat down 
 for a minute on a seat outside the building, 
 vaguely conscious that the whole scene of the gar- 
 dens, and the music, were exquisite, and inclined 
 to plume herself again in that she had come out 
 to enjoy them instead of gambling. There was 
 only one other person near her, and he was so 
 quiet as to quicken her interest in a possibly 
 
 225
 
 226 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 ruined gambler. Perhaps it was a silence of de- 
 spair, or the calm before the storm when he real- 
 ised that he was lost. How thrilling ! She glanced 
 at him, and saw that he was smart as only an 
 Englishman is smart, and that he was simply 
 listening as she was to the music from the concert 
 hall, and so absorbed that he really did not notice 
 her presence. He was following the " Ballet des 
 Sylphes " with an appreciation that was almost 
 breathless, and his eyes were not quite dry very 
 dark eyes, in contrast to his fair skin and brown 
 hair. Mrs. Carpenter had the oddest feeling that 
 it was someone she ought to know and didn't, but 
 it really took her some minutes to disentangle 
 her rooted convictions about this man and the 
 new impression of him sitting with the face of a 
 music-lover in a quiet spot in the gardens at Monte 
 Carlo. She had the sense to wait for the end of 
 the selection before she spoke to him. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Thorne T I hardly recognised you in this 
 dim light. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, how do you do? " said Eddie, raising his 
 hat, and trying, as she felt, to recall her name as 
 she had his a minute since. " The band sounds 
 just as well from here as in the hall, doesn't it? 
 Pretty thing, that last was." 
 
 " Berlioz' Faust' The Dance of the Sylphs/ ' 
 said Mrs. Carpenter succinctly. " Most people 
 only know Gounod's. Somehow I thought you 
 would be in the thick of it, at the tables," she 
 added almost abruptly. 
 
 " Oh, I play, but I always stop when I've lost 
 or won a certain amount. I like these gardens and 
 the band. I generally go into the cafe in the morn- 
 ing to hear it. I'm very fond of music." 
 
 This was so obviously and simply true that Clare 
 Carpenter was again nonplussed. " I can see that
 
 WANDERING FIEES 227 
 
 you are," she admitted. " My husband says it's 
 the redeeming grace of the place. But I tell him 
 he is every bit as bad as I am, frousting in the 
 hotel at bridge! ' 
 
 11 Oh he plays bridge? " 
 
 11 Yes. You are trying to gather who he is, 
 Mr. Thorne. Confess that you have not the most 
 remote notion of my name and can 't find it in your 
 memory. Better give it up. It's hopeless." 
 
 " Unless you will tell me? ' 
 
 Eddie shifted his seat a few inches nearer and 
 looked at Mrs. Carpenter. As she had said, he had 
 not the faintest recollection of who she was, but 
 she was properly dressed and pretty, and music 
 always made him feel sentimental. The emotion 
 it gave him could not have been painful because 
 he revelled in it; but without the least personal 
 attraction towards her he would have liked to hold 
 Mrs. Carpenter's hand or any other girl's the 
 while he thought of past loves and the band drew 
 the tears into his eyes. 
 
 " Clare Carpenter friend of Mary Trefusis. 
 Now do you remember? " said Mrs. Carpenter 
 dryly. 
 
 His answer was even eager. " How funny! I 
 was thinking of her. That last piece ' Dance of 
 the Sylphs,' did you say? somehow reminded 
 me of her. How is she ? I hope she is getting on 
 all right. What an awful smash that was of old 
 Poker's! " 
 
 11 I believe it is rather better than they feared, 
 though. Something saved out of the bankruptcy 
 after all. Lady Alex is coming back this spring, 
 and she will look into things. Do you know Lady 
 Alex Ratrick? " 
 
 * ' No I think my brother does. Kather a won- 
 der, isn't she? "
 
 228 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Marvellous. And so rich. Mary ought not to 
 quarrel with her. If Lady Alex had been home I 
 don 't believe she would ever have done such a mad 
 thing as go on the cinema stage. Her family are 
 as tactless as if they were diplomatists." 
 
 " They interfered too much with her, and that 
 put the lid on," said Thorne shrewdly. " Have 
 you seen her lately? She doesn't write to me 
 very often." 
 
 " I saw her once at the New Year, wearing last 
 year's clothes and looking divine in spite of it." 
 
 "Poor little Molly! " 
 
 The band was playing a waltz. Eddie would 
 have liked Mary's hand in his now, and her head 
 on his shoulder. The thought of her in shabby 
 clothes touched his imagination and brought her 
 back to him for a minute. Like most people whose 
 feelings are finely on the surface, he lost touch as 
 soon as time and space intervened. But this does 
 not mean that he could not feel deeply as well as 
 quickly. He was so easily responsive that he could 
 not brush aside the present impression to hold on 
 to the past, that was all, and the person nearest to 
 him absorbed his attention. Even as it was, he 
 was not content to think of Mary he wanted to 
 talk about her to Mrs. Carpenter. 
 
 " What is she doing? " he said. 
 
 " Falling in love with an actor, as far as I can 
 make out. She talks of nothing else. I have not 
 seen the creature. ' ' 
 
 " Is she going to marry him? ' 
 
 " Oh, no, I don't think so. I fancy it is quite a 
 modern attachment." Clare could not forget that 
 Thorne had admitted a correspondence with Mary. 
 She was trying to probe his feeling. 
 
 That he did not like it she saw at once, for he 
 smiled and frowned in the old manner. " That's
 
 WANDERING FIEES 229 
 
 silly," lie said. " It will do her no good. Slid 
 had better marry him." 
 
 " Perhaps she can't. I believe all actors are 
 married as soon as they are born. I never met 
 one that was a bachelor." 
 
 " Not even at a week-end? " 
 
 " Oh, well, they must say something in self- 
 defence, mustn't they? " 
 
 They both laughed, and Mrs. Carpenter discov- 
 ered in the same instant that they were no longer 
 sitting at a conventional distance to each other. 
 When or how Thorne had moved she did not know, 
 but he was certainly close beside her, and in a 
 few more minutes would probably be closer still. 
 It was the fault of the band, which had begun 
 to play a sentimental song an English song, 
 out of compliment to the Americans crowding 
 the concert hall, who did not know it from " God 
 Save the King," and even that they called 
 " America." 
 
 "Dusk, and the shadows falling 
 
 O'er land and sea, 
 Somewhere a voice is calling, 
 Calling for me." 
 
 " Do you know this? " said Thorne quietly. He 
 turned and looked full at Clare for the first time, 
 seeing her through the dusk and the shadows that 
 were certainly falling. 
 
 " Yes, I know it." 
 
 " It makes me think of all the girls I ever 
 loved." His eyes lit up with an unholy mirth. 
 
 "It is rather a short song I should think 
 you hardly had time," retorted Clare un- 
 wisely. 
 
 " You mustn't be unkind to me." 
 
 " The words are so desperately sentimental that 
 I must either turn cynic or cry."
 
 230 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 "Night, and the stars are gleaming, 
 
 Tender and true; 
 Dearest, my heart is dreaming, 
 Dreaming of you!" 
 
 " I always feel that I want someone to love me 
 when I hear it sung or played," said Thome. 
 " And that nobody does." 
 
 " If I stayed another minute I probably 
 should," Mrs. Carpenter admitted calmly as she 
 rose. " I am going back to the hotel to weep all 
 over my husband's shirt-front as the most appro- 
 priate place. Good-night, Mr. Thome. Will you 
 come and play bridge with us one night f " 
 
 Eddie rose also and stood looking down on her 
 stood rather close, his face less distinct than his 
 voice in the dusk. 
 
 " Shall I come? " he said. 
 
 " No, don't! " said Clare Carpenter honestly. 
 
 The minute she was gone Eddie began to think 
 not of her, but of Mary Trefusis. The young imp, 
 to play the fool with one of the company suppos- 
 ing it were true. She wanted smacking. ' ' If she 
 were my sister I would do it too, ' ' he said. Then 
 he thought of writing to her, and telling her plainly 
 not to be a fool ; he even played with the thought 
 of going home and finding out where she was, to 
 walk in on her suddenly and take her to task. . . . 
 " I wonder what she would say! " he exclaimed, 
 and laughed. ... It was too early yet for much 
 pigeon-shooting, and he was waiting for that. But 
 perhaps he would go home in May and look her up. 
 
 " I will put it across her for this ! " he thought. 
 " She promised she would tell me I wonder if 
 she will dare ! ' 
 
 He was almost upset about it annoyed with the 
 girl. But as he left the gardens he found himself 
 unconsciously humming an old song that was cer-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 231 
 
 tainly never suggested to him by the music of the 
 band: 
 
 "My dear little Molly Trefusis! " 
 
 It was a windy night in England, with a promise 
 of worse to come. Mr. Block said he had never 
 known the barometer so low ; it had passed stormy 
 and gone out beyond. Furthermore it shot up an 
 inch in one hour, and that threatened rough 
 weather. He studied the barometer as part of his 
 profession, for he was sending his company out 
 again to take the landscape pictures in the new 
 film. The scene lay in the Home Counties this 
 time, and at first he had thought of letting the 
 cast go out by train day by day ; but the time and 
 cost proved more than settling them in the neigh- 
 bourhood for a week or so, and he decided on the 
 latter alternative. 
 
 He did not, however, take a house for them this 
 time. The ladies were berthed in cottages at one 
 end of the straggling village and the men billeted 
 elsewhere. It chanced that Jefferson Bromley 
 found quarters at a little whitewashed house 
 furthest from those occupied by the girls, with all 
 the long street and the village green between 
 them ; but after settling in he found time to w r alk 
 the half-mile dividing him from his fellow-artists 
 in order to see that they were comfortable and 
 wanted for nothing. Had Mrs. Thirlston been in 
 charge he would not have felt so responsible, but 
 there was a strain of chivalry in him that no years 
 of battered experience could eradicate. 
 
 Other male members of the cast came along into 
 the " girls' quarters " for the same purpose, or, 
 as they themselves phrased it, " to see if they 
 could do anything, ' ' and the usual running in and
 
 232 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 out of each, other's rooms began that is so usual 
 in a theatrical company on tour. Most of them 
 having been on the legitimate stage, it was a mat- 
 ter of course that they should do so, and Bromley 
 stopped Cunningham to learn which of the cot- 
 tagers had taken in the " movies," since he had 
 had no address given him but his own. Even this 
 was an unusual concession on Mr. Block's part, 
 most theatrical managers leaving it very much to 
 the company to find an abiding-place when they 
 reached their destination, however hungry and 
 tired, and late the hour. But Block treated his 
 people as a pack of cards, shuffling and cutting and 
 dealing them when and where he chose, and he left 
 nothing much to chance. If the weather held they 
 must be at work early next day. 
 
 Bromley did not go straight to the rooms ap- 
 portioned to Mary Trefusis when Cunningham 
 grudgingly gave him the address. A week or so 
 ago he would not have hesitated, and even now he 
 walked past the place to see whether it looked all 
 right ; but his foot did not pause, though his mind 
 did, and the lines in his face deepened a little as 
 he glanced up at the lamp-lit window. He was 
 not finding that dalliance was a primrose path at 
 all. Since the revelation of Mary's acting in the 
 new pictures he had felt as if they were walking 
 blindfold through a country of quicksands, and 
 any moment the solid ground might quiver and 
 give way beneath their feet. Their only safe- 
 guard was that Mary appeared unconscious of 
 what she had revealed to others. She was like a 
 person walking in her sleep, and he prayed that 
 she might not wake. 
 
 The lighted window was suddenly darkened, the 
 blind drawn aside, and someone looked out as his 
 tall and unmistakable figure went by in the dusk.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 233 
 
 But Jeff was conscientiously looking ahead, and 
 did not see the one of whom he thought, any more 
 than he heard her come down the little worm-eaten 
 stairs and slip out at the side door. 
 
 Robin Ward and Nell Grey had bedrooms under 
 the same roof, and shared the cottage parlour. 
 When Bromley stooped his head to enter, Robin 
 was already making acquaintance with the horse- 
 hair sofa, and having tea and boiled eggs with 
 Arnold Grey; but Nell was not to be seen. 
 
 " Come and have some tea, Mr. Bromley ! " said 
 the girl hospitably. " It's only hedgerow but 
 it's the best hedgerow. Arny says he brought his 
 own tea with him, but he hasn't brought it here, 
 the beast! " 
 
 I i Where 's Nell ? ' ' asked Bromley, sitting down 
 on the broad roll of the sofa-end and looking down 
 kindly on Robin's bobbed head. " Are you pretty 
 comfortable ? I 'm afraid the quarters are rough. ' ' 
 What he longed to ask was how Mary Trefusis 
 was getting on, and whether anybody had been 
 round to her rooms to see; but he was trying to 
 find out by inference. 
 
 II Nell's upstairs, fighting the windows. We 
 can't get them open. Arny, do go up and smash 
 them for us if necessary! " 
 
 " All right I'll go presently," said Nell's 
 obliging brother, with his mouth full of bread- 
 and-jam. " Nell's all right if she can't manage 
 she'll come down. You're tired, Robin let me 
 take off your shoes for you." 
 
 " Hasn't Nell had any tea? " asked Bromley, as 
 Grey bent forward to unlace the shoes on Robin's 
 small feet. They did not answer him, and with a 
 somewhat quizzical glance he wont himself to the 
 rescue, up the narrow stairs of the cottage to the 
 rooms with the sloping roof that the girls occupied.
 
 234 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 In answer to his knock Nell called out " Come 
 in! " on a sharper note than usual; and when he 
 entered she turned a flushed, exasperated face to 
 him from the window, where she knelt on the wide 
 ledge. 
 
 1 1 Oh, Jeff ! do come and help me this casement 
 really does open, but it has stuck from ages of 
 disuse." 
 
 Bromley crossed the little room and took the 
 matter into stronger hands than Nell's. One vig- 
 orous thrust with his arm forced the unwilling 
 hinges to act again, and the casement creaked 
 into use, letting in a rush of the sweet March air, 
 already faintly reminiscent of daffodils and early 
 wallflower from the gardens below. The draught 
 ran through the stuffy room, cleansing the air, and 
 for a minute the man and girl remained at the 
 window in silence, looking out into the spring twi- 
 light. Despite the rough weather, it seemed to 
 Bromley a curiously peaceful world out here in 
 the country, as if he had left trouble and the 
 chance of disaster in London; and the quiescence 
 of Nell's attitude was unconsciously soothing, 
 though he was not thinking of her. She spoke 
 most when she was most silent. The dark eyes 
 in the small face were not even wistful, they were 
 so utterly resigned. 
 
 Then it seemed to them both that the peace of 
 the moment was swept away by the sense of vital- 
 ity near them, and there in the doorway was Mary 
 Trefusis. They had not heard her come up, and 
 did not know how long she had been there; but 
 her white face worked oddly so that it looked al- 
 most distorted in the dusk, and her eyes were 
 aflame. Bromley dropped his hand from the case- 
 ment where it had rested above Nell's head, and 
 his stretched arm fell back to his side. He could
 
 WANDERING FIRES 235 
 
 not speak at all, at once not from the most re- 
 mote embarrassment, but from Mary 's mere pres- 
 ence suddenly thrust upon him. 
 
 11 I came in I came up to find Nell to see 
 where everyone was," she said in a choked voice. 
 "I'm sorry Robin didn't hear me she was talk- 
 ing to Arnold downstairs. ..." 
 
 " Jeff was opening the windows for us," said 
 Nell collectedly. " They had stuck. Have you 
 had any tea, Mary? ' 
 
 " Oh, ages ago! Besides, I don't want any. I 
 only came round to see you." Her face said: 
 " And now I have seen, I'll go." 
 
 11 Come down and talk to Robin and Arnold. 
 They have been playing the fool long enough," 
 said Nell, leading the way out of the room her 
 bedroom, as Mary suddenly remembered. Such 
 a thing had never occurred to her before. Now it 
 was an instant outrage, a situation she hastily 
 condemned, and then despised herself for con- 
 demning. 
 
 " No, thanks I'll go back to unpack." 
 
 11 I'll see you home, Mary," said Bromley me- 
 chanically. 
 
 " No, you won't," said the girl curtly, and 
 brushing past him she ran downstairs in front of 
 Nell and out of the cottage. When they reached 
 the door she was gone, and though Bromley fol- 
 lowed her homewards he never caught sight of 
 her again. She had given no explanation of her 
 abrupt entrance and departure, save the obvious 
 one of her crude jealousy, which was so blatant 
 that neither Nell nor Jeff had looked at each 
 other. If they had even said, "It is absurd! " 
 they must have put the thought into words that 
 did not bear thinking, and Bromley's heart was 
 in his throat with a new emotion that he tried to
 
 236 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 stifle. Nell was the sacrifice; he was very sorry 
 and troubled for Nell, but she was blotted out for 
 him by the fact that Mary had looked at him 
 with the eyes of elementary womanhood. She 
 had resented his being alone with Nell, in the little 
 cottage bedroom, sanctioned though it was by care- 
 less custom and the license in the company. She 
 had passionately questioned the meaning of the 
 situation. Her heart seemed to have awakened 
 in the one fierce moment when she had challenged 
 him with her eyes and he dared not think what 
 came next. . . . 
 
 The evening that had been so exquisite in Monte 
 Carlo a few hours since was pregnant with storm 
 in England.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE day broke threateningly, with a rising 
 wind. By eight o'clock the air seemed full 
 of refuse, torn from the highways and 
 hedges and flung into the air and whirled round 
 as a wanton child scatters something with which 
 it is tired of playing. It was almost impossible 
 to tell from which direction the wind blew, for it 
 broke in eddies and made back-shafts for itself of 
 any obstacle; but its main force was from the 
 north-west. There would be no possibility of tak- 
 ing outdoor scenes to-day, and Mary was thankful. 
 She wanted the holiday to get away by herself, 
 and face the turmoil in her mind. If she had had 
 to endure the close association of the cinema cast 
 Ellen and her brother, Jeff Bromley, the others 
 with their curious eyes she felt that the strain 
 would have worn her to the breaking-point. 
 
 She ate her breakfast hastily, and dressed her- 
 self in a rough outdoor coat, for it was piercingly 
 cold in the wind, drawing her woolly cap down 
 over her bright hair and ears. The face that 
 looked at her from the glass was paler even than 
 its wont, faintly marked round the soft red mouth 
 with the deeper feeling of new experience, and 
 the eyes were like a thunderstorm. She missed 
 the unclouded freshness of her beauty, and turned 
 away dissatisfied. " I am almost ugly," she 
 thought, and the stab of jealousy made her muscles 
 actually contract when she thought of Nell's con- 
 trol over her quiet, dark face. 
 
 237
 
 238 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 A great branch broke from an elm tree across 
 the road and was blown to her feet as she went 
 out into the tremendous morning. The wind had 
 got imprisoned in the trees, and was fighting like 
 a mad thing to get out, threshing the branches 
 and snapping those that were brittle. Mary flung 
 herself in the melee, with a fierce satisfaction in 
 the cold flurry, and battled down the road, jump- 
 ing a stile with a whirl of her close-reefed skirts 
 and heading into the wind across the open 
 meadows, with her head held down. She walked 
 furiously, the blood quickening in her veins mak- 
 ing the life in her almost intolerable, and her mind 
 tossed fragments of her trouble to and fro, even 
 as the wind tossed fragments of the trees. 
 
 What right had Nell Grey to care for him? . . . 
 She did care for him, that was certain. She must 
 have been learning to care long before Mary her- 
 self saw him at Restawhile, or joined the company. 
 It seemed to lend Nell a sort of priority of right 
 . . . unbearable. Mary's newly-stirred heart most 
 passionately questioned any right but her own. 
 The egoist in her pleaded her own vitality, the 
 strength of thwarted instincts, the goad of her un- 
 broken will. . . . Nell could not give him half that 
 she could, even to the bearing of pain. She was 
 sure of it in her splendid rage, and flung herself 
 against the wind as if to prove the force of her 
 temper. . . . When Bromley had told her of his 
 marriage she had felt a sense of exultation because 
 of the confidence between them, and realised 
 nothing more. Now it was a barrier, something 
 that she wanted to sweep aside ruthlessly before 
 Nell Grey or any other woman could precede her. 
 . . . She did not resent that early love as she did 
 a present suspected rivalry, it seemed so out- 
 worn, so far in the past. And he had told her
 
 WANDERING FIRES 239 
 
 that he no longer cared. . . . Why had he told 
 her? Why had he confided in her at all? Her 
 mind went back to the moment in the enveloping 
 fog, and to her small glow of flattery that he was 
 taking their friendship so seriously and treating 
 her like an older woman. She had been so taken 
 up with her own attitude that she had no time to 
 spare for his. The egoist in her again. . . . But 
 why had he told her? Was it that he felt the 
 necessity for some guard over himself, even then? 
 Did he think to make it safer for the steady flame 
 of their mutual self-esteem that she should know 
 him outside the pale of any licensed feeling be- 
 tween them? The flame had burned steadily then. 
 Wild gusts seemed shaking it now, as the wind 
 tore along the meadows and shook her even on the 
 sure balance of her light young feet. . . . Why 
 had he told her? . . . 
 
 Her heart began to settle down to heavy throb- 
 bing. Some look in his troubled eyes of late re- 
 curred to her to raise her fallen spirits to the 
 giddiness of intoxication. She walked faster and 
 faster, the wind making her stagger at each more 
 open space of country, and her face, lately so pale, 
 whipped to a clear red like the glow of ripe fruit. 
 The wind without and her stirred blood within 
 flushed her like a fever. She clung to every tell- 
 tale sign that he also had to face this thing, this 
 uncalculated force, as some alleviation for her own 
 discomfort. Youth is intolerant of pain, and quite 
 rightly, for pain ought to be intolerable. Mary 
 knew that her just heritage was happiness, and 
 here was this old, outworn marriage-tie across her 
 throat to strangle her very joy of life. 
 
 She stood still for a moment to realise the thing 
 that had happened to hor. Somehow she had 
 fallen in love, and the man she had chosen loved
 
 240 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 her. Up there in the windy tree-tops the rooks 
 were cawing, knocked about their nests by the 
 boisterous element, flapping great black wings in 
 trepidation round their half-built houses. The 
 white clouds sailed in fluffy puffs across a blue 
 sky, and the rough keen air threatened the breath 
 of every living thing. It had suddenly become a 
 jolly morning, full of wild possibility and glorious 
 life. The girl lifted her pretty wind-stung face 
 and laughed. She could have clapped her hands 
 and cried ' l Bravo ! " to the wind when he drove 
 a great piece of board across a field, turning it 
 over and over as a child bowls a hoop. It had 
 probably been blown down from a neighbouring 
 farm, and she now saw that she must have strug- 
 gled along for four or five miles, and would have 
 to ask her way back, so heedless had been her 
 roaming. But she did not care. Even Nell Grey's 
 betrayed feeling for Bromley took a secondary 
 place to the maddening delight of realising that 
 she herself loved him, and that he loved her. 
 
 She made her way to the farm and asked for 
 a glass of milk, laughing as she was almost blown 
 into the doorway. A big, slatternly woman drew 
 her in, staring at her delicious cheeks and rough- 
 ened hair under the white cap. She made Mary 
 sit down in the untidy kitchen, and brought her 
 the milk in a cracked cup, standing with hands 
 on hips to watch her drink it. 
 
 "It's a wild morning, and hev given you a 
 colour, miss! " she said good-humouredly. " Not 
 safe to be out, hardly. And you come from the 
 village? You'll hev to walk a matter of six miles 
 to get back by the road. ' ' 
 
 " I don't mind I like it," said Mary, her red 
 mouth creamy with the new milk. * ' And I 'm not 
 a bit tired! "
 
 WANDERING FIRES 241 
 
 But when she had paid for the milk and started 
 out again, back of the farm by the cart-track the 
 woman showed her, she began to feel the healthy 
 tiredness of her walk and the result of her restless 
 night. She was happy and sleepy, now that the 
 jealous shadow was lifted from her mind, and the 
 wind who had been a playfellow now buffeted her 
 as an adversary, determined that she should not 
 go back to the village, holding her from the place 
 where her heart raced before her. On the other 
 side of the rough road was a group of outbuild- 
 ings, a barn, and some cowsheds. Mary looked 
 longingly at them, and then turning aside from 
 further effort, she pushed her way into the sweet- 
 smelling barn, past some farm implements to a 
 great heap of hay in the dusky corner. She was 
 out of the wind, and happy, and very weary. Shq 
 snuggled down into the hay for ten minutes ' rest, 
 and in three she was fast asleep. 
 
 "\Yhen she woke the face of the day was changed 
 so that she wondered where she was. The wind 
 had fallen a little, and snow was beginning to fall 
 also, in large driven flakes that melted as they fell. 
 The treacherous sun was gone, and the sky waS 
 full of hurrying grey cloud. Yesterday it had 
 seemed almost like spring when they arrived in 
 the Midland village, and to-day it had gone back 
 to winter with the suddenness of March weather. 
 She looked at her little wrist- watch and found that 
 she had slept for some hours it was nearly four 
 o'clock. But she was at least warm and rested, 
 though very hungry. Ashamed to go back to the 
 farm and confess what she had done, she crept 
 out of her shelter and, striking into the highroad, 
 began her steady walk homewards. 
 
 Jefferson Bromley had also profited by the holi- 
 day, though with less energy than Mary. He was
 
 242 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 billeted comfortably in his little whitewashed 
 house, which had the advantage of roomy out- 
 houses. Here Jeff played with his camera, under 
 tuition of the operator, and then carpentered, and 
 made some rough sketches in charcoal which al- 
 ways resolved themselves into a woman's head 
 that had had a habit of late of recurring on his 
 drawing-blocks, growing more lovely and charac- 
 teristic with increasing knowledge of each precious 
 detail. A girl 's head turned so that one saw only 
 the coil of thick fair hair and one flat ear and a 
 curve of cheek a line of profile, as delicate as the 
 cutting of an old Greek cameo two wide, empty 
 eyes and a lifted upper lip which seemed to be the 
 most ravishing feature of the small face, until one 
 noticed the fine nostrils and the one dimple in the 
 cheek. It was this last sketch that had grown 
 under his hand to-day while the rude March wind 
 made the outside world a less desirable place than 
 usual. Why not I He could not play golf in such 
 a gale; cycling was out of the question; he had 
 walked savagely in a direction opposite to the 
 " girls' quarters," and refrained from dropping 
 in to ask if anyone w r anted anything, as the men 
 of the Block crowd had a happy way of doing 
 for the women. Secure in his own control, he 
 might at least indulge himself in drawing the 
 haunting face that w T ould never belong to him, 
 could never belong, save as a yearning memory 
 of a mirage of happiness. Wife and children! 
 Mary Trefusis as a wife, with a child in her arms. 
 . . . He stopped there. Some things did not bear 
 thinking of if a man were to keep a steady face to 
 the world. When it came to four o'clock, and the 
 day began to darken with snow, Jeff flung aside 
 his toys of the workshop and went back to the cot- 
 tage to have his tea. He would have gone out
 
 WANDERING FIEES 243 
 
 again for another walk in his restlessness a rest- 
 lessness that was growing as intolerable as Mary's 
 but for the cutting wind that was so full of sleet. 
 He lit a pipe, and sat over the fire, indulging him- 
 self in day-dreams as he very seldom did. It was 
 a snare of the devil, but for once the desire must 
 have its way with him. 
 
 The strange March twilight was darkening at 
 the windows when he heard someone fumbling at 
 the cottage door. There was nothing to prevent a 
 stranger walking in, for it was unlocked, and 
 knowing that his landlady was busy in the wash- 
 house outside he walked along the narrow pas- 
 sage and, opening the door, confronted the in- 
 truder. There was a girl standing outside, with 
 the snow on her cap and shoulders, and a heavy 
 coat that was soaked with the melting flakes. They 
 peered at each other through the clear dusk which 
 was like the light of a dream, and then his hands 
 went out instinctively to draw her in. Until he 
 touched her wet shoulders he hardly realised that 
 she was real ; she had been so much in his thoughts 
 that it seemed as if he had visualised her out of 
 the twilight. 
 
 " Jeff! " she said, with a gasp that was half 
 laughter and half exhaustion. " I've had such an 
 awful walk I've been out all day I simply 
 couldn't go any further! Can I come in and 
 rest? " 
 
 He did not answer, save by putting his arm 
 round her shoulders and almost pushing her down 
 the passage. He felt as if he must clutch at her 
 to keep her, and that she might melt away from 
 him at any moment as the snow was melting from 
 her wet coat. There was no light in the little sit- 
 ting-room but the fire, which he had banked up to 
 a great glow because he liked it better than a lamp.
 
 244 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 He began unfastening her coat for her with hands 
 that were not quite steady, and drew off the soaked 
 woollen cap from her bright hair, while she stood 
 docilely before him like a child being undressed 
 by its nurse. He had not spoken even when he 
 wheeled the hard little sofa over to the fire, and, 
 wrapping her bodily in his travelling-rug, lifted 
 her suddenly and laid her down on it. 
 
 " Let me take off your shoes," he said, in a 
 curious low voice as if someone were listening. 
 11 They must be soaking. You will catch cold if 
 I don't. . . ." 
 
 " I don't think they are wet. ..." But she 
 let him unlace and draw them off while she nestled 
 comfortably into the heavy rug. " I'm so hungry 
 and thirsty. I had no lunch nothing but a glass 
 of milk at a farm. And then I went to sleep in a 
 barn on some hay and it was hours later when I 
 woke, and the snow was falling, and I had to walk 
 in against the storm, miles ! ' 
 
 He uttered a sound of distress. " Whatever 
 made you do it I > 
 
 " I went for a walk, earlier in the day. It was 
 rather fun to fight the wind. How comfortable 
 this is! " 
 
 He was kneeling at her feet, rubbing them 
 gently, but the slush of the wet roads had gradu- 
 ally penetrated even through her stout little shoes, 
 and he could not get her feet dry in that way. 
 
 " Take off your stockings and I will dry them in 
 the fender," he said. " I won't look ..." 
 
 She laughed a little tremulously, sat up, and 
 drew off her stockings, wrapping her feet in the 
 rug. Bromley walked into his bedroom and 
 brought back a rough towel. " You will have 
 to let me rub them dry and warm again," he said 
 gently. " Come, don't be silly why shouldn't I?
 
 WANDERING FIRES 2-15 
 
 I will make you some fresh tea in a minute." 
 * ' Let me rub them, while you make the tea. ' ' 
 " No, I want to . . ." He bit back the words, 
 and kneeling down again rubbed the warmth and 
 circulation back into the small chilled feet. * * What 
 induced you to go off by yourself on such a day? " 
 " I was restless." 
 " Were you? So was I! " 
 She did not answer. She was lying back in 
 the folds of the rug, her small tired face framed 
 in it and her eyes half closed. He rose rather 
 suddenly and, carefully wrapping up her feet, 
 began to move deftly about the room in spite of 
 his size and its narrow dimensions, making fresh 
 tea. Neither of them spoke to the other until he 
 was feeding her like a baby, with hot buttered 
 toast and tea and a comfortable dough cake. 
 
 " I hope you didn't mind my rushing in like 
 that," she said, her eyes still sleepy with the 
 warmth. " I kept on thinking that I was getting 
 nearer to you to buoy myself up. I knew you were 
 in the first cottage I should come to." 
 
 I i Wouldn 't you have come to me the same, even 
 if I hadn't been the first? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She did not look at him, and found nothing more 
 to say than that one word. 
 
 " You knew I should take care of you, Mary." 
 The promise was as much to himself as to her. 
 He said it in his desperate need. 
 
 " You always take care of me. It was so funny 
 I nearly lost the way where the road forks, and 
 then I saw the firelight in your window going up 
 and down. It reminded me of the wandering fires 
 we followed on the Moor do you remember? " 
 
 II Yes," he said slowly. " They took us astray 
 first and then led us home."
 
 246 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Your light didn't lead me astray." 
 
 He looked at her quickly, almost with fear in 
 his face. " We don't want to follow wandering 
 fires, you and I ! "he said hoarsely. 
 
 She remembered again how Thorne had said 
 that she might do so, but that she would return to 
 him. It seemed an idle prophecy, made very long 
 ago. Besides, poor Eddie had followed a wander- 
 ing fire of his own, and found it a devil's lantern 
 indeed. But his example did not turn her one whit 
 from pursuing her own. 
 
 " It did lead me home to you ! " she said reck- 
 lessly, and opened her eye,s at last to look up at 
 him. They were no longer empty of expression, 
 they were full of a trouble that had faintly flick- 
 ered across them when Thorne kissed her long 
 since. 
 
 Bromley had put the food baek on the table and 
 pushed it on one side. He dropped suddenly into 
 the shabby armchair by the sofa and took the 
 girl's hands in his. 
 
 " Mary, you oughtn't to have come here," he 
 said below his breath. He was looking at her with 
 all his heart in his eyes, and they were very blue 
 even in the firelight. With any other man she 
 would have taken refuge in retort, " Don't you 
 want me? " or " Am I in the way? " but with Jeff 
 she had to meet truth with truth. He was too 
 much in earnest for her to save herself at his 
 expense. 
 
 " I know I ought not," she said, almost sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " You remember what I told you in the fog 
 about my marriage? ' 
 
 " Yes." Meeting those impelling eyes she 
 wished vainly that she could say she had for- 
 gotten. " I know you are not free."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 247 
 
 ' ' God help me ! " said Bromley suddenly, and 
 quite simply, dropping her hands and walking to 
 the darkening window. He stood there a moment 
 in dead silence, the outline of his broad shoulders 
 and well-set head against the increasing night; 
 and the girl hid her face in her hands and did not 
 dare to think what he was fighting, her will or his 
 own temptation. She knew that she was in the 
 wrong from his point of view, and the constant 
 association with him for the past months had re- 
 flected his standards on her own mind, though her 
 earlier traditions still lay at the root of her nature, 
 the selfish will of a spoilt child. What did it mat- 
 ter to her that he was doing his best to love her 
 unselfishly, to do the decent thing and be stronger 
 than his own manhood, when her headlong passion 
 was bent on over-ruling his self-control! Honour 
 and chivalry are fine words, but they are poor al- 
 ternatives for a man's arms to the woman whose 
 body is yearning to feel them round her. 
 
 A coal dropped into the fender, jarring the 
 silence, and a flame leaped up and showed the 
 man's tense attitude and the girl's relaxed figure, 
 characteristic of them both. The old-fashioned 
 clock on the mantelpiece struck two with a reckless 
 disregard of the fact that its face registered a 
 quarter to four. Both hours were hopelessly 
 wrong, but Time himself seemed to have paused 
 for those two in the little cottage sitting-room. 
 
 " Jeff, come here! " 
 
 Mary's endurance had given way, and her 
 nerves were unstrung with her physical weariness 
 and an unusual emotion. The tacit denial of 
 Bromley's flat back and shoulders was filling her 
 with growing dismay, and she felt that if he kept 
 his head turned away very much longer she must 
 cry or laugh or shriek. He came slowly at the
 
 248 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 sound of her voice, and she saw that his face was 
 contracted and his hands clenched ; but she had no 
 pity and no scruples. If he did not give way now 
 his will might prove unbreakable, and her jeal- 
 ousy of the morning returned to madden her 
 against any other woman in his life. She would 
 take by violence or fraud what she could not get 
 by honest means, and no robber was ever more 
 guilty than this soft-f aced girl looking as innocent 
 as a child on the hard little sofa. 
 
 " I'm so tired! " she said, with a catch in her 
 breath. 
 
 He knelt down at last and took her in his arms, 
 drawing the soft head against his shoulder. Ah, 
 dear, wilful Mary Trefusis! All her life some- 
 body was taking care of her because she would 
 not take care of herself, covering her faults with 
 kisses and paying the devil for her with the price 
 of her follies. The line of pain in her smooth 
 brows relaxed, and the short upper lip lifted in a 
 little confident smile as she snuggled her face 
 closer. The man who had not kissed her then 
 must choose between calling himself a hero or 
 a fool. Jeff Bromley chose to call himself a fool 
 and rejected the folly. 
 
 He did not know how long he knelt there in the 
 firelight. The close, strenuous embrace had ended 
 in broken whispers and then a silence while he 
 clutched after his happiness and tried not to think. 
 The weight of Mary's supple body lay against his 
 breast without movement, almost without re- 
 sponse, and looking down at her he saw that her 
 eyes had closed and she was breathing evenly. 
 Once the strain of uncertainty was lifted from 
 her the very natural result was that she fell 
 asleep, as she had in the barn, worn out with her 
 long walk and the struggle against the physical
 
 WANDERING FIEES 249 
 
 and mental storm. The utter trust of such a hap- 
 pening made him feel as if he had a child in his 
 arms. He brushed the hair away from her fore- 
 head with lips that were too tender for passion. 
 And when he laid her gently back on the sofa and 
 went to find some means of getting her home, she 
 still slept on as if his protection surrounded her 
 and scared away all evil thoughts.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IT was in April that Edward Staines Thome, 
 late Captain of Yeomanry, was granted a de- 
 cree nisi against his wife, Petrova Ivanovna. 
 The release came far more speedily than Thome 
 had any right to hope, and was probably unex- 
 pected by him, as he was still abroad at Monte 
 Carlo as Mrs. Carpenter had written to Mary 
 earlier in the year. Mary read the brief announce- 
 ment of the divorce in the papers, and her eyes 
 brimmed over again for Eddie. It did not seem to 
 touch her destiny any more in the absorbing in- 
 terest of her love-affair with Jefferson Bromley; 
 but she could no more forget Eddie Thorne than 
 any other woman in his life, and she was gen- 
 uinely sorry for him. 
 
 She had not even the relief of talking of the 
 Russian dancer and her husband to Alicia Thirl- 
 ston, because the company having stayed in rooms 
 this time in the Midlands, Block had not engaged 
 a housekeeper to look after them. Alicia was back 
 in London, living her unrecorded life under the 
 roof with the sparrows, and waiting for her next 
 uncongenial job. She would have been a safety- 
 valve to Mary, who did not find Jeff the ready sym- 
 pathetic listener she demanded on the subject of 
 Thome. It still irked him that she had never 
 paid back the forty pounds which Thorne had fore- 
 stalled him in lending her, and that he could not 
 persuade her either to save her salary to that end 
 or to accept a fresh loan from himself and return 
 
 250
 
 WANDERING FIRES 251 
 
 Tborne the money. Mary only laughed, her one 
 dimple in full play and her eyes full of impish 
 mischief. 
 
 " I simply can't save, Jeffy! I've darned and 
 patched every mortal clothe I have as it is, and I 
 never spend a cent that I oughtn't. Eddie 
 wouldn't want me to starve he'd be awfully ratty 
 if he thought I was going without anything to 
 send him a few pounds at the end of a few weeks. 
 He's not like that. Probably he's never thought 
 of it again." 
 
 11 Yes, but I have, Mary. And you mustn't 
 borrow from any other man except me now ! ' 
 
 His eyes filled in the hiatus, and his hand joined 
 hers in the great white muff that had appeared 
 in so many pictures already. They were taking 
 one of their long tramps across the country when 
 the subject of Thome came up between them, 
 almost the same walk across the fields that Mary 
 had taken earlier in the month in the great gale. 
 There was no wind to-day, only a low grey sky 
 that threatened more snow and a dank chill in the 
 air. Mary took the large hand between both of 
 her own and moved a little nearer to his shoulder. 
 She was enjoying herself immensely, basking like 
 a sun-warmed cat in the protection of the most 
 unselfish love she had ever met with, and concern- 
 ing herself very little as to the cost to Bromley. 
 She was quite satisfied with the excitement of 
 stolen kisses, the being petted and comforted, the 
 joy and triumph of being the first with him be- 
 fore everyone else in the world. He gave her, in- 
 deed, everything that her youth demanded and 
 nothing that it shrank from at present. Perhaps 
 an older or more experienced girl might have felt 
 a secret desire that should have matched the man's 
 own curbed passions ; but Mary was really so un-
 
 252 WANDEEING FIRES 
 
 touched by sexual emotion, in spite of the sordid 
 outer crust that association had formed over her 
 mind with much plain-speaking, that she never al- 
 lowed herself to think of any closer tie between 
 them. She lived quite happily in the present, and 
 had not seriously contemplated the future. She did 
 not suppose that she would go on being a cinema 
 actress for the whole of her life, but, on the other 
 hand, she never substituted* any definite change 
 for it. And she' lived in the present indefinite 
 state of her relations with Jeff Bromley in exactly 
 the same fashion. She could not marry him she 
 would not contemplate the possibility of giving 
 him up. As long as she herself was satisfied with 
 being in love with him she took it for granted that 
 he was equally so with being in love with her. 
 
 Had she looked at him with any compassion, as 
 he walked by her side over the wintry fields, she 
 would have seen that already she had set her 
 mark on him. The firm mouth was still more 
 firmly compressed, the blue eyes had the strained 
 look of a dog in doubt of his duty. He was prac- 
 tising a double self-control, for Mary as well as 
 himself, and it told on him. If sne had not been 
 so young, if she had even belonged to the same 
 world, and known the sordid experiences of the 
 stage as other girls had done, he might have flung 
 chivalry to the winds and challenged her to meet 
 him on an equality of passion. But her different 
 position and upbringing had raised an incongru- 
 ous barrier between them incongruous, because 
 the daughter of Poker Trefusis and the niece of 
 Lady Alex Ratrick was far less trained in moral 
 convention than Robin Ward or Ellen Grey. He 
 did not realise this curious fact ; he only saw the 
 little high-bred face, the fastidious ways, the some- 
 thing that made her different from the working or
 
 WANDEEING FIRES 253 
 
 even middle classes, and he thrust Mary into a 
 shrine and burned candles of penance before her 
 for every dangerous thought that assailed him. 
 It cost him something even to walk by her side 
 with her warm hands clinging to his own in the 
 great white muff, and he looked at her once almost 
 as if appealing for understanding, for some for- 
 bearance but her very lovely eyes were studying 
 the sky and the landscape rather than him at the 
 moment. They were no longer empty, but they 
 were very self-absorbed. 
 
 * ' I really think it will snow before night, Jeffy, ' ' 
 she said. " And then we can do those scenes in 
 ' The Woman Pays ' to-morrow, and get them 
 over. ' ' The company had been waiting all through 
 a green winter for the unobliging elements to give 
 them the background they wanted, and so far had 
 had nothing much but rain, and sleet, and wind 
 always wind, that most fatal of drawbacks to the 
 camera. 
 
 1 1 If it lies! " said Bromley doubtfully. " We 
 had snow at the beginning of the month, when that 
 gale raged ; but it was all gone the next day. ' ' 
 
 ' ' The evening I came to your rooms ! ' ' 
 
 Her face flushed under the fur cap, and the eyes 
 she raised to his were the same that had wrought 
 his undoing. It was a flagrant invitation to stop 
 and kiss, and the man knew it. His chest con- 
 tracted under a painful breath that was almost a 
 sob, and he walked on resolutely with a smile in 
 his eyes that did not reach the tortured lines of the 
 lips. 
 
 " The storm brought me one good thing at 
 least! " he said. " I can't think how you do it, 
 Mary," his voice was as gaily teasing as during 
 the first months of their acquaintance, and she felt 
 a little disappointed without acknowledging it
 
 254 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Your features are not really regular; your up- 
 per lip is too short, and you have only one dim- 
 ple " 
 
 1 ' Anybody can have two. Of course I did that 
 on purpose! " 
 
 " And yet you contrive to be a very good- 
 looking girl ! ' ' 
 
 * ' Good-looking ! ' ' said Mary indignantly. ' ' I 'm 
 pretty very pretty. If you can't see that you had 
 better go and have your eyes tested. There's 
 something wrong with your sight. ' ' 
 
 * * Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, whether 
 he wears glasses or no. There is a new girl join- 
 ing us next week, and perhaps she may fulfil all 
 my ideals." 
 
 * ' Is there ? ' ' said Mary, with a quick stir in her 
 voice that was almost suspicion. " I hadn't heard. 
 Anyone you know? ' 
 
 " No. I am palpitating with expectation. She 
 is a Miss Ethel Kerr from the Alpine crowd." 
 
 " Oh ! " There was a silence till the next field 
 was crossed, and Mary almost imperceptibly drew 
 her muff to herself and let his hand go. Bromley 
 gave a little sigh, half of relief, half of regret. 
 His heart often ached while his courage came back. 
 
 " Jeff, you won't really think her prettier than 
 I am even if she is? You won't like her any 
 better, will you? " 
 
 He roused himself quickly out of the sombre 
 reverie into which he had fallen, and looked at her 
 in astonishment. He suspected a mock humility, 
 but he had forgotten that love is a very humbling 
 process, and that even Mary Trefusis was under- 
 going moods of self-searching, in the which she 
 saw herself tottering on the pedestal of self- 
 esteem.
 
 WANDERING FIKES 255 
 
 He stood still this time, betrayed out of his 
 caution, and took her face in his chilled hands. 
 
 " No one could be prettier than you, you beau- 
 tiful thing! " he said, and his face flushed with 
 sudden excitement. " You're the only girl in the 
 world, Mary the only one I want oh, so badly! " 
 
 But the last words were lost in the folds of her 
 hair above her small pink ear, and the cry was 
 choked back once more in his throat. Mary buried 
 her face for a minute in his breast, cuddling her- 
 self against him. She at least was quite satisfied. 
 
 The new girl was so small that she was promptly 
 nicknamed " The Pigmy." She had dull golden 
 hair that was * ' bobbed ' ' in the usual fashion, and 
 dusky eyes that betrayed nothing but an idle in- 
 terest in the other members of the company. The 
 verdict on her was that she was no good for the 
 screen she depended too much upon colouring 
 and effect, for her features were merely adjuncts 
 to her mannerisms. She was one of those girls 
 who lay no claim to actual beauty, but are almost 
 always called pretty with a reservation. When 
 she saw Mary she opened her brown eyes a little 
 wider, and her expression became momentarily 
 animated. 
 
 " Why, it's Miss Trefusis, isn't It? " she said. 
 " We were in munitions together." 
 
 That very brief episode of war-work had almost 
 faded out of Mary's memory, save for its after- 
 taste of obscene language and stories. She met 
 the recognition carelessly. 
 
 " At the hostel, wasn't it? I don't think we 
 were doing the same work." 
 
 The newcomer seemed to withdraw herself into 
 her small stature as the Phasmidse of tropical
 
 256 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 countries quietly absorb themselves into their 
 background of foliage. She did not shrink or run 
 away any more than the leaf insect ; she stood still 
 and became as if she were not there, so that Mary 
 was hardly aware of her personality any more. 
 But it is possible that she liked Miss Trefusis none 
 the more for the indifference to her small overture 
 of acquaintanceship, and there was temper in the 
 sombre eyes for anyone who looked for it. 
 
 Ethel Kerr became rather popular with the cast, 
 and more particularly with the men. Arnold 
 Grey ostentatiously took her out to tea in the big 
 market town which was within walking distance 
 (Mary had declined that invitation several times) ; 
 and Percy Cunningham constituted himself her 
 special " boy," with flattering references to her 
 size. She was " Mignonne " and " La Petite " 
 and the " Fairy," as well as the Pigmy; but as 
 Mary's indifference to Cunningham had nearly 
 reached the point of dislike, she was supremely 
 thankful that Ethel Kerr had attracted his atten- 
 tion. If Mary did not like people actively, her 
 feeling was entirely passive as a rule; in other 
 words, she ignored their unnecessary existence. 
 And it did not matter to her that they might re- 
 sent this aloof attitude. Cunningham had re- 
 sented it with all his contracted soul, and the 
 Pigmy resented it in a more subtle mind and 
 manner. 
 
 The snow really came at the beginning of April, 
 and was obliging enough to lie. The company 
 took the long-delayed pictures at last, and were 
 then recalled to London for some studio work. De- 
 spite the verdict against her, the Pigmy remained 
 with Block's, for she had had both stage experi- 
 ence and some work with the Alpine firm that 
 made teaching unnecessary. It was by her sug-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 257 
 
 gestion that during the precious snow the com- 
 pany was taken in a snowballing scene, none the 
 less effective for being unrehearsed. Cunningham 
 worked it into the scenario, and exploited it and 
 Ethel Kerr together to the manager, who was by 
 no means hoodwinked by the suggestion of ' ' Miss 
 Kerr's own idea clever girl that! " but gave the 
 young lady her fair dues all the same. She might 
 become a useful member of the company if Cun- 
 ningham chose to work with and for her, and Mr. 
 Block was willing to retain her by contract instead 
 of piece-work. 
 
 Mary was glad to be back in London again, and 
 to fall back into her intimacy with Gladys Smythe, 
 augmented though the household was with a mas- 
 ter, for George Smythe was at last demobilised. 
 No one in the company had given her quite the 
 same heroine-worship as Gladys, and it only re- 
 mained to add George to her list of admirers. It 
 took one brief half -hour to convince him that she 
 was all that Gladys had said, though she regretted 
 his presence a little in the inmost recesses of her 
 mind as lively to attract his wife's hitherto un- 
 divided attention from herself ; but his work kept 
 him out of the doll's house in Roehampton most 
 of the day, and his presence at breakfast and din- 
 ner was really rather pleasant, since it only added 
 a, deeper note to the bubble of her laughter. Mary 
 liked to absorb the whole devotion of her circle, 
 but she hardly missed anything from Gladys ' rap- 
 turous greeting on her return to Laurel Lodge. 
 
 11 Do let me look at you I feel as if I were 
 starved for lack of looking! " said Mrs. Smythe, 
 and she very simply meant what she said. The 
 two girls stood facing each other, hands on shoul- 
 ders, though Mary was much the taller, and both 
 raked the other's face for changes.
 
 258 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " You're looking very well, Glad in spite of 
 what you told me ! ' ' 
 
 ' * I hope it will be a girl ! ' ' 
 
 " Why? I should want a boy." 
 
 " So that I can call it Mary! " 
 
 Mary laughed. " Let's hope she won't be ' all 
 contrary ' like me. Well? ' 
 
 " Yes, you are looking lovely you always do. 
 But has something happened to you, Mary? " 
 
 "Lots of things! " 
 
 " Your eyes seem to have grown up." 
 
 A sudden sweet flush swept the beautiful face 
 from the roots of the waving hair to the well-cut 
 chin, but the eyes that were no longer empty met 
 Gladys' bravely. 
 
 "I'm older, Gladys^ I've felt a lot." She 
 thought this was true, without recognising that she 
 had felt only as inclination took her, like a plant 
 that grows on one side towards the sun. 
 
 " Is that it? " Mrs. Smythe's face grew mater- 
 nally tender, as if the daughter for whom she 
 hoped were foreshadowed in the girl before her. 
 " My beauty, have you fallen in love? ' 
 
 " Yes! " Mary defied her own blushes with 
 laughter. 
 
 1 1 And it 's Jeff Bromley ! Oh, it must be Jeff ! ' 
 The dismay that feared another name did not 
 reach Mary's understanding. She never saw the 
 spectre of Eddie Thorne that haunted Mrs. 
 Smythe's solicitude, and, with a touch of super- 
 stition, Gladys would not even speak his name. 
 
 " Yes it couldn't be anyone else! " 
 
 The proud little head went up as Mary in her 
 turn thought of Cunningham, and Arnold Grey, 
 and even of Major Durham and Oliver Ogilvie. 
 All of these were impossible, and Jeff the very
 
 WANDERING FIRES 259 
 
 natural centre to her life. But she was totally un- 
 prepared for Mrs. Smythe's point of view. 
 
 1 1 I am glad I am thankful ! ' Gladys ' embrace 
 was almost frenzied. " I have had such qualms 
 because, of course, you know so many men." 
 
 " None like him." 
 
 " No, I'm sure. And when are you going to be 
 married? Don't wait, Mary never mind poverty, 
 or living in rooms even. It's an unsettling life, 
 but you will be together." 
 
 The radiance of Mary's face did not perceptibly 
 alter, but she found herself instantly tongue-tied. 
 It had seemed as natural to confide in Gladys as 
 in her own heart, though she had not done so to 
 any of the cinema girls, perhaps because it was all 
 so patent that to say, " I am in love with Jeff and 
 he with me," was w r aste of words. As to what 
 they had thought, Mary had not troubled herself. 
 Now, in a flash, she saw the point of view of the 
 middle classes, that love for a decent woman pre- 
 supposes marriage some day. It was impossible 
 to tell Gladys what she had learned herself from 
 Jeff as long ago as the autumn, because Gladys 
 would have reluctantly decided that Mary must at 
 once give up all thought of him, grieved though she 
 would have been and almost fretful over her 
 spoiled romance. And Mary even then had had no 
 least intention of giving him up, though at that 
 time she had only been growing rather fond of 
 him. She saw the two points of view side by side 
 with a directness that staggered her, and opened 
 her eyes to the situation as it seemed to the rest 
 of the world. The indefinite relation suddenly 
 demanded a definite end. What that end should 
 be she could not tell herself she certainly could 
 not tell Gladys. Instead of answering, she said:
 
 260 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 "I'm keeping you standing, and you oughtn't to 
 stand. Do lie down on the sofa, and I'll sit at 
 your feet." 
 
 11 You are growing just as thoughtful as Mr. 
 Bromley, Mary. He always took such good care 
 of us! " 
 
 " He's always like that. He has been taking 
 care of me all these months." 
 
 But in a further revelation she saw how much he 
 had taken care, and for the first time realised that 
 he had had no help from herself. She had not 
 wished to help him, and a dread of she knew not 
 what came over her with the recognition of his 
 self-control. Supposing that Jeff, like Gladys 
 Smythe, faced the inevitable progression of their 
 love, where would it lead? To some more decided 
 step, or to a parting of the ways? It could not 
 stay always at the same stage; it was only his 
 desperate resistance that had kept the delicate 
 balance between what would have been the altitude 
 of an engagement and the headlong descent of an 
 illicit passion. She had never faced her own inten- 
 tion, and she did not wish to do so now. She 
 would rather have left him to bear the strain, as 
 he had done so far. But circumstances were 
 hurrying her to a decision before she was aware, 
 and the man had reached the breaking-point be- 
 fore her. 
 
 Mary came in to rehearsal one May morning to 
 find that the cast had already arrived at the studio 
 and was awaiting the manager. Most of the win- 
 dows at the back of The Grange were open, and a 
 grateful wind was blowing in from the garden to 
 cool the sudden heat that had succeeded April's 
 tardy snow. The cast were grouped up and down 
 the stairs to the studio itself, hoping prayerfully 
 that the pictures might be taken outside this
 
 WANDERING FIEES 261 
 
 morning, for the sun on the glass roof of the studio 
 would be well-nigh intolerable. Mary looked as by 
 right for Bromley, and to her faint annoyance 
 discovered him on the top stair above her talking 
 to Ethel Kerr. The Pigmy was looking up at 
 him with unsmiling brown eyes, and talking rap- 
 idly, and as Mary dropped on to the stair below 
 them she heard her close the conversation with 
 the remark: " Well, I thought I would tell you, 
 even if nothing comes of it. You might like to 
 know. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, thanks awfully, Ethel it was very good 
 of you," Bromley said, but in spite of the sincerity 
 of his thanks, they had a tired sound, as if he were 
 accepting a duty rather than a boon. The next 
 instant he had seen Mary and smiled at her, but he 
 did not continue the discussion, or explain what it 
 was that Ethel Kerr had told him, and Mary felt 
 suddenly outside their confidence. The threaten- 
 ing of a thunderstorm came back to her eyes, and, 
 glancing at the Pigmy, she seemed to remember 
 that she had always faintly disliked this girl at the 
 munition factory, though had it been suggested to 
 her a year ago she would have indignantly denied 
 that she disliked anyone she met in war- work. 
 
 It had become an unwritten law in Block's 
 Cinema Company that when the " leading man " 
 sat down beside Mary Trefusis the rest of the cast 
 drifted away. But on this occasion the Pigmy did 
 not move. She sat still on the top stair as if a 
 little overcome by the heat, her head with its shoro 
 gold hair leaning back against the banister and 
 showing her whitened throat and a good deal of 
 her breast that the crepe-de-chine blouse left bare. 
 Her make-up was like a mask to-day, and her 
 sombre eyes expressed nothing at all. And yet 
 Mary sensed a diabolical mischief and malicious
 
 262 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 satisfaction in her, from the deep parting of her 
 hair at the right side of her head to her small white 
 shoes. The Pigmy was in exquisite proportions, 
 though they might be small. When the call came 
 for the scenes in the garden she rose yawning, and 
 loitered down the stairs with Bromley and Cun- 
 ningham and Robin Ward and a host of supers 
 fifteen-shillings-a-day people, brought in for a 
 crowd. Mary might fume, but she had no chance 
 to get Jeff by himself until the long hot day had 
 drawn itself out to nearly six o'clock, and the 
 work was over. They had been kept in for meals 
 served from the kitchen, and Jeff's scenes had been 
 mostly with Miss Egan, and Cunningham himself, 
 and Ellen Grey. Her own part was a small one in 
 this scenario, owing to intention on Cunningham's 
 part as she guessed. Nevertheless, Block would 
 not have her left out entirely, and her tiresome en- 
 trances and exits were endless in proportion to 
 the time she was on in the scenes, or the role she 
 had to fill. She wondered half savagely if she 
 would get an opportunity to go home with Jeff, or 
 if Ethel Kerr would attach herself to them still ; 
 but she heard Arnold Grey remind the girl eagerly 
 that they were going out to a dancing-club that 
 night, and when she herself came out into the cool 
 evening through the old iron gates, Bromley was 
 waiting for her as usual. 
 
 " Anything on, Jeff? " she said carelessly, turn- 
 ing to walk by his side. 
 
 " Nothing unusual, is there, sweetheart? " He 
 was fond of the old-fashioned word, and used it 
 very tenderly. 
 
 1 ' I thought that girl was telling you something 
 this morning." 
 
 " Oh Ethel Kerr! ' He turned his face as if 
 by chance to the traffic, away from her, but they
 
 WANDERING FIRES 263 
 
 had to cross the road at the minute, and she could 
 not swear it was intentional. Only, his face looked 
 very strained and too lined for his age in the broad 
 spring evening, and she saw the ravage that 
 something had made in him of late. She would 
 not say that it was her love that had tried him so 
 shrewdly, but her heart suffered a pang of dismay, 
 almost of rebellion. 
 
 " Yes, she was telling me of a new venture of 
 Eden and Veschoyle's a good play, the sort of 
 part I used to love before I took up cinema work." 
 
 11 The real stage? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But you won't think of going back to stage 
 work? " 
 
 " I am thinking of it. Eden rang me up on the 
 telephone later on, when you were at lunch " 
 
 " That girl gave him your number told him 
 where to find you ! ' 
 
 " Very likely. It was kind of her. It's a good 
 offer." 
 
 " Kind of her! ' Mary's eyes blazed. One of 
 the uncontrolled furies that had routed all the 
 family except Lady Alex, w r ho excelled them, 
 threatened to seize her now. " And what becomes 
 of me ? Where do I come in, in this new arrange- 
 ment? " 
 
 " It wouldn't part us, Mary." He looked 
 round at her quickly, almost shocked. * * I should 
 be in London, and you would still stay in Block 's, 
 wouldn't you? " 
 
 " We shouldn't be together." Her breast be- 
 gan to pant and the vague fear that had beset her 
 since Gladys Smythe's practical reference to mar- 
 riage darkened to a certainty. " The money 
 wouldn't be so good on the stage, even if you 
 played lead and you might have to go on tour
 
 264 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 that would part us! Oh " her voice rose in a 
 cry, heedless of passers-by " you are doing this 
 on purpose ! You want to end it all ! " 
 
 They had reached the, road with the row of little 
 villas where Mary had found a refuge last year. 
 Behind the green door of Laurel Lodge, even now 
 in view, was pretty, ordinary Gladys Sniythe, with 
 her middle-class ideals, and George, just returned 
 home and wishful to talk. There was no privacy 
 to be expected there. Bromley suddenly turned 
 back to the high road, drawing the girl with him. 
 
 " Come round to my rooms for a minute, " he 
 said. " We must talk this out. It can't matter." 
 
 She did not answer. She almost ran to his 
 hurried stride until they reached the house 
 where' for some years he had had lodgings, and 
 was too well known to be turned away like others, 
 who clamoured in vain. He opened the door with 
 his latchkey, and showed Mary into the sitting- 
 room, a pleasant, rather shabby place, full of 
 sketches of her own face, and old pipes, and dog- 
 eared, paper-covered books. She seemed to sniff 
 the very atmosphere of the man as she stood in 
 the midst of his possessions and heard him close 
 the door behind them. 
 
 " Sit down, Mary, " he said, and the incisive, 
 actor's voice had never sounded less like an 
 actor's and more like a man's. It was a little 
 hoarse, lower than usual, and very troubled. He 
 did not look at her either, but walked across the 
 room to the window and drew the blind up, letting 
 in the slanting evening light across an old-fash- 
 ioned writing-desk with a high fretted top through 
 which the sinking sun fell in patches on the faded 
 walls. 
 
 Mary did not sit down. She stood in the middle 
 of the room in her thin grey gown she was still in
 
 WANDERING FIRES 265 
 
 half mourning watching him with grave eyes that 
 had a touch of desperation in them. He knew that 
 when he looked at her he should see her beauty 
 afresh, as if for the last time the small head with 
 such a quantity of fair brown hair wound round 
 it, and that vivid face, with so much expression 
 and so little colour except in the curved lips. 
 Mary's beauty and vitality were all in line and deli- 
 cacy of moulding rather than in splash of colour 
 and contrast, as he knew from every loving sketch 
 strewed about the room. Surely the most expres- 
 sive thing in her face was the line of the eyebrow, 
 unless one gave preference to the short curve of 
 the upper lip ! But then those wide eyes, and the 
 shadow of her lashes on her round cheek when she 
 looked down! The picture in his mind betrayed 
 him into looking at her at last, and he saw again 
 the very face with which she had acted in the great 
 scene in " The Woman Pays," and that Block had 
 applauded. It was not acting now, even if it had 
 been but subconscious reality then. They looked 
 at each other for a long moment in silence across 
 the sun-fretted, shabby room. 
 
 " You are doing this on purpose," she repeated 
 slowly, as if the words formed themselves on her 
 lips and in her brain at the same moment. " You 
 want to go away from me. ' ' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She wondered with sudden dismay why he 
 looked so shamed, why his blue eyes were so mis- 
 erable and defeated. He still stood near the old 
 writing-desk and she in the middle of the room, 
 speaking to each other as if across a barrier he 
 had raised. She was not ashamed herself, or con- 
 scious of any defeat, though she feared some 
 section of his will that she could not combat. 
 
 " Don't you want me any more, Jeff? "
 
 266 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 11 Oh, my God! " said Bromley suddenly, rais- 
 ing his shaking hands to his face. " Can't you 
 have some pity? Don't you understand any- 
 thing? ' He drew nearer to her, slowly, as if 
 drawn without any wish on his own part, and 
 snatched her hands suddenly in his, holding her 
 before him with a grasp that hurt her. Then she 
 saw his face, seared with hot tears, tortured, all 
 the youth and good looks out of it for the moment, 
 in the stress of passions that were stronger than 
 anything she had yet faced in man. 
 
 11 We can't go on like this I'm breaking down 
 you've asked too much of me," he said almost 
 wildly. " I'm a man, Mary a man. Don't you 
 know what that means? I can't be with you day 
 by day and make love to you and know you love 
 me and not make you my wife. ' ' 
 
 He dropped her hands suddenly, and gathered 
 her to him, his bowed head resting half against her 
 shoulder. She found the stain afterwards of his 
 hot tears on the pretty grey chiffon, and tore the 
 fichu away because the remembrance hurt so. 
 
 But her heart was no longer sore at the moment. 
 She was only flushed and trembling with a kind of 
 reflex of his feeling, and her eyes those wonderful 
 eyes were full of soft fire. She put her hand up 
 to his crisp, dark hair, and held his face against 
 her warm neck. 
 
 11 Never mind what does marriage matter? " 
 she said, with a quick, eager breath. " We've 
 known all along that we couldn't marry. " 
 
 ' ' I ought not to have loved you, ' ' he whispered 
 back brokenly. " I ought to have left you long 
 before. ..." 
 
 " You can't leave me, Jeffy we can't be 
 parted."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 267 
 
 * ' I must, darling. You don 't know what might 
 happen." He raised his head with a sudden 
 trembling of his whole frame, and his hands, linked 
 round her waist, seemed to loosen. " I'll take 
 Eden's offer you must let me go away for a little 
 while. I'll get my grip on myself again soon. 
 I 'm ashamed to have told you. ' ' 
 
 She flung her head back, and looked up into his 
 eyes, the blood rising slowly to her pale face, and 
 the maddening lips a little parted. 
 
 " Take me too, Jeff! " she said, and clung to 
 him as his own clasp slackened. " What do I 
 care? Let me live with you as your wife. I 
 swear I '11 be as true to you as if we were married 
 I'll never go back on what I've said. Jeff! " 
 The pleading voice was close to his ear, and some 
 new soul seemed looking at him through that per- 
 fect bodily beauty. " You've got all the best of 
 me. You will make me something quite different 
 if I live my life with you. ' ' 
 
 There was a silence so long that it seemed as if 
 the sun died leisurely away from the walls, and 
 out beyond the windows, and twilight began to 
 creep into the stirred atmosphere of the room. 
 When he spoke, his voice was so unlike his own 
 that it seemed to belong to a stranger. 
 
 " You don't know what you are saying. If I 
 took advantage of it I should be the worst kind 
 of cad." 
 
 ' ' I do know, Jeff. ' ' Her words gained force and 
 something like fierceness in contrast to his, and 
 she pressed against his unresponsive figure, using 
 all the persuasion of sense and sex any ally in her 
 struggle to win. * ' I am not the jeune fille you al- 
 ways make me. I was not reared in that school. I 
 have seen plenty of life, though I have never loved
 
 268 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 a man before. Girls like I am grow accustomed to 
 knowing things long before they marry. Let me 
 stay with you I know what it means." 
 
 " I won't." 
 
 It was as if she felt his will fighting hard to keep 
 the temptation at bay, and challenged his mind 
 rather than his body. 
 
 " If you give me up you will lose me you will 
 never see this Mary that you loved, again. I shall 
 go back to the old habits, and the old view of life, 
 and be the kind of girl I was when you met me at 
 Restawhile. I warn you ! ' ' 
 
 But he repeated despairingly: " You don't un- 
 derstand. You don't know what it would be like. 
 If I took you, I should take you for good and all 
 you couldn't throw it aside as a married woman 
 does an intrigue in your world." 
 
 "I know." 
 
 " You don't know. I should prevent your mar- 
 rying and having a home and children of your 
 own children that you could be proud of, that 
 need not be half excused, and lied about. Darling, 
 I love you too utterly, and too honestly, I hope, 
 to drag you through life with me like that. ' ' 
 
 His arms tightened round her again in one 
 strong clasp, but there was no yielding in the earn- 
 estness of his manner. He had the man's simple 
 sense that he was protecting her against herself, 
 against both of them: of the more subtle loss of 
 which Mary struggled to speak he knew nothing. 
 
 But the hopelessness of her position was sud- 
 denly borne in on the girl, not from any greater 
 argument of his last words, but as if the strength 
 of his resolution had reached her at last through 
 all her self-delusive hope. She looked at him 
 strangely, as if that side of her personality that 
 she had said he loved were looking its last, and her
 
 WANDERING FIRES 269 
 
 eyes darkened as if the light in them went out 
 with the dying day. For a minute he still held her, 
 she consenting; and then, very slowly, she drew 
 her arms away from his neck and her supple body 
 from his embrace, and turned away as if indeed 
 she turned her life from his. 
 
 * * Then I may as well go home, ' ' she said quietly. 
 11 Don't come too Mr. Smythe will be back, and 
 we should have to talk to them both. ' ' 
 
 He did not answer. In the moment of his vic- 
 tory he felt the discouragement of defeat more bit- 
 terly than she could ever understand. And yet 
 she knew, as only a woman can, that they were 
 both to be supremely pitied. The last half-hour 
 that had seemed so full of crisis, and beyond the 
 count of time, had dwindled to an ordinary eve- 
 ning, without any great circumstance to mark it as 
 an epoch. They would meet to-morrow at re- 
 hearsal as usual, they might even bridge over the 
 gulf between them in a fashion, but they both knew 
 that the gulf was there from this time forth, and 
 Mary knew also that the parting of their ways lay 
 only a little further on. 
 
 He opened the door for her mechanically, but 
 she stopped him when he would have followed her 
 out into the hall, with a little imperious gesture 
 that Ellen Grey or even Miss Egan could never 
 have learned. The daylight was still in the streets, 
 and the May evening was warm from the long, hot 
 day. Mary looked at the roads that had grown so 
 familiar with eyes that saw them again as some- 
 thing detached from her, outside of her life, just 
 as she had when she first came out to Roehamp- 
 ton. It was an impression of impermanence, of 
 this phase of life passing from her as an experi- 
 ence and nothing more. Yesterday, to-day even, it 
 had seemed her destiny. Now it was only as the
 
 270 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 lure of wandering fires that had led her out of 
 her right road. 
 
 " I can always go somewhere else do some- 
 thing else," she thought restlessly. And then a 
 great voiceless cry seemed to rise up from her 
 heart and lose itself in the emptiness of the uni- 
 verse. She had followed wandering fires . . . 
 and lost her way.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ALICIA THffiLSTON had returned to the 
 sparrows, and the smuts, and the Hammer- 
 smith Broadway in the spring. Once more 
 the odd window between her room and the next 
 was opened to ventilate the further attic, and she 
 was aware of little scraps of song musical com- 
 edy songs that broke in on her reflections during 
 the hours of her meagre meals, for she had a 
 neighbour, as usual a girl with an immature face 
 and a great quantity of red hair that was too beau- 
 tiful to " bob " and too useful an asset on the 
 stage. Mrs. Thirlston for to the world she had 
 brevet rank had met her neighbour on the stairs 
 at the end of the first week after she occupied 
 the further attic, and had looked at her compre- 
 hensively with her green eyes. 
 
 " I think you have the room next to mine? ' 
 she said, as the girl passed her with a market- 
 basket in her hand. 
 
 " I hope we don't disturb you! " said the girl, 
 flushing a little. " "When my friend comes to see 
 me, I mean." 
 
 " Not at all," said Mrs. Thirlston. " I assure 
 you I hardly knew he was there. What I meant 
 to suggest was that perhaps when you are alone 
 you might like to have the window open between 
 our rooms. My own window lets in a good deal of 
 light and air that might help yours." 
 
 " Oh, thank you! " said the red-haired girl 
 
 271
 
 272 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 gratefully. " He did say it was rather stuffy." 
 She went down a step or two further, and paused 
 again. ' ' He loves fresh air so ! " she added. 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston smiled as if a little tired, but 
 then she was going up while the girl was going 
 down, and it was a climb from the ground floor. 
 4 ' Come and have tea with me, and talk about him 
 if you want to, ' ' she said. 
 
 But when the girl had disappeared into the dark 
 floors underneath, the old woman's long upper lip 
 tightened in an anxious manner. She knew that 
 her neighbour had a friend, and that he had come 
 several times to see her in the last week. That 
 was nothing. All the girls who lived next door in 
 the combined room that was an attic had friends to 
 see them. Mrs. Thirlston 's trained ears could gen- 
 erally decide if they were light comedy, or heavies, 
 or legitimate drama when the window was left 
 open, as it had a careless habit of being after a 
 girl had found out Alicia 's gift of silence and sym- 
 pathy. That was also immaterial. Actors did not 
 matter. Besides, nothing she could say or do 
 would alter a custom that prevailed on tour and 
 amongst all classes of the profession. What 
 troubled her was that her new neighbour 's friend 
 was a gentleman and belonged to a different world 
 to that which inhabited combined rooms in Ham- 
 mersmith. She had heard his voice through the 
 wall even when the window was closed, and the 
 words, though slurred and inaudible, were not in 
 an actor's voice. Once Alicia Thirlston had been 
 going to leave her room when her neighbour's door 
 opened and the friend came out and walked down- 
 stairs. She drew back, though it was dusk, and she 
 could only see his head and shoulders disappearing 
 down the stairs. It was all she ever did see of 
 him, but the momentary outline was a dis'tinct im-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 273 
 
 pression. She felt that he ought to have had rac- 
 ing glasses slung over his shoulders, or the latest 
 type of Purdey under his arm. 
 
 The neighbour came to tea, and said that her 
 name was Irene Vansittart. She was " out " for 
 two or three weeks, but expected to get a shop 
 after Easter. She talked a good deal about her 
 friend by constant references to him, his prefer- 
 ences, and his very mundane creed. He appeared 
 to be a man of the world, at least. When she had 
 gone, Miss Alicia went and fed the sparrows at 
 the open casement, looking over the misty sunshine 
 and the' drifting smoke of London. Hammersmith 
 on a spring day is nearly as depressing as Kensal 
 Green. The world looked very tangled to Alicia 
 Thirlston. 
 
 " I can't do anything except let her talk about 
 it," she said to the sparrows. " Perhaps she may 
 get an engagement in time." 
 
 She carefully closed the communicating window 
 at the first hint of double movement in the next 
 room or a masculine voice. But Irene herself took 
 no such precaution. Mrs. Thirlston was seventy, 
 and she did not even make up as other ladies of 
 that age do occasionally. She was like a plain 
 safe-deposit for Irene's confidences. The next 
 time the girl came in to tea she said, ' ' My friend 
 Mr. Thorne, ' ' and it was Alicia who dropped a cup 
 and nearly broke it, not Irene. 
 
 " How clumsy I am growing! " said the older 
 woman. " That's the result of rheumatic gout in 
 my hands. ' ' 
 
 1 1 How funny ! My friend says he will have gout 
 some day." 
 
 " Tell him to give up cocktails," said Mrs. 
 Thirlston. " He has still time to reform." 
 
 " H doesn't want to reform he has too good a
 
 274 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 time. I wish I did ! He says you always can have 
 if you take your fences as they come ' ' 
 
 ' ' Does he say that you can always have the gout 
 too? " 
 
 "Oh, I shan't have the gout ! " 
 
 " Only the good time? " 
 
 " Girls wouldn't like a man's good time. They 
 don't want to get drunk and have a rowdy. He 
 says " 
 
 " When are you going on tour? " 
 
 " Next week." The young face fell, and the 
 heavy hair cast a shadow over the eager eyes. 
 
 "I'm very glad though. I shall miss you. It's 
 bad to be out, isn't it? " 
 
 " Yes," said the girl, without elation. " I won- 
 der who will have that room after after me ! ' ' 
 
 Her face suddenly crimsoned. She got up and 
 said good-bye, passing into her dark, contracted 
 little room, from whence, through the open win- 
 dow, Mrs. Thirlston heard her singing: 
 
 " 'Tis but the coward who deceives the friend that in his faith 
 
 believes! 
 
 Do what you will, I tell you still there's honour among 
 thieves! " 
 
 Irene's friend always came in the afternoon. 
 Noting this fact, Mrs. Thirlston punctiliously shut 
 the window after lunch and kept it closed till sup- 
 per-time he never stayed so late for the first 
 two or three days of the following week. The 
 fourth day she forgot it, being very tired, for it 
 must be remembered that she was an old lady. 
 Furthermore, she must have dozed off, sitting by 
 the casement that looked far down on to the 
 streets, where the sparrows twittered, for when 
 she woke with a slight start she thought a man
 
 WANDERING FIEES 275 
 
 was speaking in her own room, and it was too 
 late to close the communicating window. The pe- 
 culiar, slightly drawling voice came from her 
 neighbour's room, intentionally illiterate, charm- 
 ingly slangy, with an atrocious accent that might 
 have belonged to the House of Lords or a London 
 flower-seller. 
 
 ' * Well, how are yer ? " it said. 
 
 Irene's reply was inaudible, but could not have 
 been satisfactory. A few minutes later Mrs. 
 Thirlston, straining to fix her attention on the 
 sparrows, heard against her will a new accent of 
 coaxing through the window. 
 
 " What's the matter, dear? What's the mat- 
 ter, Irene? . . . You're not going to blub, are you? 
 I want to leave you feeling happy, and I can't if 
 you are like this. ... I shan't enjoy myself a bit 
 if we don't part friends. ..." 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston put her hands up to her ears in 
 despairing protest, and cast a glance at the win- 
 dow between the two rooms. If she crept to it and 
 pushed it to close it, inch by inch, would he hear or 
 see? But then, it was the girl's last chance this 
 was good-bye before she went away. Life is very 
 short, and poor of romance. 
 
 Alicia Thirlston dropped her han'ds into her lap 
 and sat with perfectly hopeless eyes fixed on the 
 line of sky between the house-roofs. She could not 
 risk betraying her presence, perhaps to cut short 
 the girl's last pitiful hour. And as she sat she 
 heard something else that made her start, like an 
 electric shock. She had not noticed a step in the 
 room beyond, and yet the man must have crossed 
 it with evil facility and the lightness of a cat, for 
 she heard the click of the falling lock. . . . Locked 
 in! .
 
 276 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 Alicia Thirlston put her hands not over her eari 
 after all, but over her eyes. 
 
 * 
 
 The room next door was never empty for long. 
 Irene Vansittart (a good name for the bills, an 
 excellent name!) had not left solitude and mem- 
 ories behind her for forty-eight hours before there 
 was a fresh tenant. 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston shopped in the King's Road, 
 Hammersmith, and cooked such meals over an oil- 
 stove as she did not get in eating-shops. It was a 
 vile manner of prolonging life by nourishment' that 
 she particularly disliked. When she returned one 
 evening with a bulging market-basket, and dragged 
 it up five flights of stairs, she entered her room 
 with a sigh of relief, to find it already occupied. 
 There was a pilgrim basket set down in the middle 
 of the shabby carpet, and a long, slender figure in 
 her own chair by the sparrows' casement. Mrs. 
 Thirlston stood still and looked again to assure 
 herself of the truth. 
 
 * ' Mary Trefusis ! ' ' she said. 
 
 The face turned to her was not the Mary Tre- 
 fusis that she had known on Dartmoor, but it was 
 beautiful still, with a new meaning in the well-cut 
 features and a volume of expression in the empty 
 eyes. There was history to read in Mary's face 
 for anyone experienced in physiognomy before she 
 even opened her lips. 
 
 " Is the room next door to let, Mrs. Thirlston? " 
 she said, with a little smile that would have been a 
 laugh last year. " I've come to take it, as I told 
 you I should some day. ' ' 
 
 " Have you left Block's? " said Mrs. Thirlston, 
 putting down her market-basket carefully because 
 of the luxury of eggs in it, and feeling glad that
 
 WANDERING FIRES 277 
 
 there were four instead of two, as might well have 
 happened. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And the cinema stage? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " What are you doing? " 
 
 " I shall be a free lance." 
 
 ' ' You will find it hard work. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, I don't care! I don't care for anything 
 much. ' ' 
 
 " So bad as that? " said Mrs. Thirlston, as she 
 moved quietly about the room, preparing a meal. 
 To her surprise, Mary got up and offered to help 
 her, not too absorbed by her own situation to re- 
 member that her hostess was old and tired. She 
 had altered in more ways than one, it seemed. 
 
 " You can have the room next door a girl left 
 it yesterday," said Mrs. Thirlston, as she boiled 
 eggs and made tea. ' * You had better go down and 
 see the people on the ground floor they have the 
 letting of it. Say that I know you. But you must 
 look at it first. Have you any idea what living in a 
 combined room is like? It is not so large or so 
 well ventilated as this even." 
 
 " It will do so long as I am near you." 
 
 " Mary," said Mrs. Thirlston, raising herself 
 from her ministrations at the oil-stove, and looking 
 at the girl who was cutting bread and margarine 
 at the table, " what's the matter? ' Then she 
 caught herself up, and her eyes, as if fascinated, 
 wandered to the communicating window that was 
 now closed. Only two days since a man's voice 
 had said to another girl, " What's the matter, 
 dear? What's the matter, Irene? ' It was al- 
 ways the same thing that was the matter with 
 women.
 
 278 WANDERING FIEES 
 
 " I wanted to live with. Jeff Bromley, as we 
 couldn't marry," said Mary, in a matter-of-fact 
 tone. " And he wouldn't have me. That's all." 
 She laid another slice on the plate methodically, 
 and went on spreading margarine. 
 
 " So you left the company." 
 
 " He went first. I should have stayed if he 
 had done so. I should have fought his refusal, and 
 worn it down night and day he knew that. Mrs. 
 Thirlston, do you think I should have won ? ' ' 
 
 " No, because he would never have stayed to 
 be vanquished. He knew he dared not risk it. 
 Jeff is a man, Mary. ' ' 
 
 " He didn't seem to be so." 
 
 " Oh, my dear! women's experience of men is 
 so much on the weaker side that when they are 
 strong we call them demi-gods or dummies. ' ' 
 
 11 Demi-gods don't feel, and dummies can't." 
 The woman spoke in pain. 
 
 " He thought he was doing the decent thing," 
 said Mrs. Thirlston slowly. " And perhaps he 
 made a blunder. Well f ' ' 
 
 " I left ostensibly because there was no part 
 for me in the next pictures. At least, Mr. Block 
 would not promise me lead, and Cunningham cut 
 me out on purpose. They are having May Moon 
 back." 
 
 " She was not with you on Dartmoor? " 
 
 " No she had a baby," said Mary simply. 
 " Nell Grey told me. They were all awfully 
 shocked. I fancied theatrical people thought noth- 
 ing of immorality. ' ' 
 
 " They think too much of it. It is never out 
 of their heads." 
 
 " It doesn't seem to matter, to me, unless it's a 
 big thing like it was with Jeff and me. And then 
 it matters less still."
 
 WANDERING FIKES 279 
 
 " The middle-class adapts itself to law, and the 
 upper class adapts law to itself, that's all. What 
 did your friend Mrs. Smythe think? " 
 
 " She was just as stupid," said Mary impa- 
 tiently. " Both of them were. Her husband is 
 back, you know, and they didn't really want any- 
 one staying there, though they would have kept 
 me. They were awfully sweet about it, but I felt 
 an interloper after a time. Gladys wasn't lonely 
 any more. ' ' Her voice broke a little at last, with 
 self-pity. She felt that she was no longer the in- 
 vincible heroine to Gladys Smythe, and the spoilt 
 child in her resented the alteration. It was she 
 who was lonely, not Gladys. She had not cried 
 when she spoke of the real tragedy to her, the part- 
 ing with Jeff Bromley, but she could cry over 
 Gladys' defection because of its treachery to her 
 egoism. 
 
 " Come and have tea, and then we will look at 
 your room and see if you can bear it," said Mrs. 
 Thirlston wisely. " It is really roughing it this 
 time, Mary." 
 
 11 I don't care. I would rather do that than 
 go home ! ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston turned her green eyes rather 
 shrewdly on the altered face. She thought how 
 wonderfully pretty Mary Trefusis was going to 
 be in all the stages of her womanhood, and yet 
 how different. She could never have a plain 
 period during which she ' ' went off ' ' in her looks, 
 however many tragedies or comedies she experi- 
 enced. 
 
 * ' Have your family offered to take you back ? ' * 
 she said gravely. 
 
 " Aunt Alex has written but I shan't go. She 
 came back from India last month. ' ' 
 
 " You will go but not quite yet," said Mrs.
 
 280 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 TMrlston in her heart. She pondered a minute, 
 and then her eyes happened to fall on the window 
 between the two rooms. 
 
 " What became of that man you used to talk of 
 Mr. Thome? Do you ever hear of him? " she 
 said suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, he writes. They all write to me." 
 Mary laughed a little, but without any satisfaction 
 or real amusement. " Major Durham wrote yes- 
 terday, and Nolly Ogilvie, and a man named Sin- 
 clair who saw my photograph at Eddie's flat. 
 They were friends. He has begun to write too." 
 
 " Is Mr. Thome in England? ' 
 
 " Yes, at Upcott. At least, he wrote last from 
 there. I wish he were in London, rather. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston looked at the communicating 
 window helplessly. " Do you want to see him? ' 
 she said. 
 
 " Eddie always understood me." 
 
 " Then it was a pity you did not stick to each 
 other." 
 
 " Why? " 
 
 ' ' You might both of you be less of a menace to 
 other people." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. We were bound to follow 
 wandering fires. ' ' 
 
 " Perhaps you will go back to each other, after 
 all." 
 
 ' ' He always said so. Dear old Eddie ! but one 
 would have to make a good many allowances." 
 
 " Isn't that more tolerable to you than the demi- 
 god or the dummy? " 
 
 ' ' It might be if I went back to Aunt Alex. But 
 I 'm not going. ' ' 
 
 " No, of course not. If you've finished tea we 
 will go and look at the room." 
 
 She judged it diplomatic; but Mary was too
 
 WANDERING FIRES 281 
 
 tired in mind and body to be further depressed by 
 her surroundings. She accepted the horrible place 
 with indifference, the zinc washstand, the oilcloth 
 (it was a furnished room), the narrow pallet bed. 
 There was no looking-glass those who let it had 
 found that if they supplied one it always dis- 
 appeared. Honesty stopped short at a looking- 
 glass, however dingy. The girls who were Mrs. 
 Thirlston 's fleeting neighbours supplied their 
 own. 
 
 " You had better see that the door locks," said 
 Mrs. Thirlston, pausing on the threshold. 
 
 There was a catch on the door. Mary released 
 it with a little click, and Mrs. Thirlston started. 
 " It works easily enough," said Mary. " Some- 
 body has oiled it look at my hand! " 
 
 " The caretakers downstairs, I suppose," said 
 Alicia Thirlston. She was a magnificent liar for 
 other people. For herself, I fancy that she spoke 
 the unnecessary truth. " Go and see them, and 
 then you can take possession. Is this basket all 
 your worldly possessions? " 
 
 " It was no use bringing the rest until I had 
 somewhere to bring them." 
 
 The weeks which followed were a phase in 
 Mary's life over which she never learned to laugh, 
 not for their hardships but for their disillusion- 
 ment. She had bragged so much of being a work- 
 ing girl that when she found she had never been 
 so until the present moment she drew back ap- 
 palled by her temerity in competing with those 
 who really deserved the title. Gladys Smythe's 
 little suburban house had been a new experience, it 
 is true, but there was no hardship in it. It was 
 exquisitely clean and ridiculous in its imitation 
 luxury. The meals were regular and well cooked 
 and appeared upon the table in a civilised manner.
 
 282 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 It was Gladys who worked hard to accomplish 
 this, and not Mary. At the studio she had always 
 been a protegee of one important person or an- 
 other, and the training she received flattered her 
 vanity. When she was on Dartmoor or in the Mid- 
 lands she had had Jeff Bromley's strength and 
 manhood as a buffer between her and the world in 
 which she found herself. Latterly he had formed 
 the centre of her universe, and even small draw- 
 backs and irksome duties had become of no im- 
 portance by reason of his presence. She had only 
 played at work after all. When she stood up on 
 her own feet and faced the reality, she learned how 
 insignificant she herself had been in the shaping of 
 her destiny, and how little she had depended on 
 the individuality she thought she possessed. A 
 single day of her new work will suffice as an 
 example. 
 
 On the strength of having been with a big com- 
 pany she got daily work here and there with 
 smaller firms, for which she was paid fifteen shill- 
 ings or a pound. She might make three or four 
 pounds a week at this rate, or only fifteen shillings. 
 And it was more often the latter, because the big 
 parts were all filled by the salaried casts, and she 
 was only employed as a super. Mary had never 
 appreciated the miseries of the people who played 
 " crowds " for Block's firm before, or thought 
 that they had much to put up with beyond a pass- 
 ing pity that was half disdain. Rehearsal might 
 be called for half-past nine at the other side of 
 London, which necessitated her getting up at 
 seven (there was no Gladys to bring her an early 
 cup of tea) and boiling a sleepy kettle on a Bea- 
 trice stove both for the comfort of washing and 
 for breakfast. The rehearsal might possibly be 
 of a garden party, and in the semi-obscurity of
 
 WANDERING FIRES 283 
 
 her attic Mary Trefusis dressed in such smart 
 clothes as were left to her from a past life, with 
 the feeling of someone who has been up all night 
 in evening-dress and is horribly dissipated. She 
 was obliged to get her breakfast gingerly for fear 
 of disaster to her gown, boiling an egg or spread- 
 ing potted meat on bread-and-margarine. There 
 was no time to wash upthat must wait till the 
 evening. At half -past eight she stumbled down 
 the carpetless flights of stairs and out into the 
 street, having locked her stuffy room for the day. 
 The spring was often wet and cold, and it might 
 well be that she found a drizzling rain in the Ham- 
 mersmith Broadway. With a raincoat over her 
 dreary finery, she struggled for standing-room in 
 an omnibus or train, and was dragged across Lon- 
 don, her feet already wet in her thin shoes, to get 
 damper still in changing from one phase of loco- 
 motion to another, until she reached her destina- 
 tion breathless and irritable. 
 
 A cold, cutting wind was probably blowing about 
 the public gardens utilised as a background for the 
 party, but wraps must come off, and the supers be- 
 gin to stroll about in imitation of guests enjoying 
 themselves in happier circumstances. BlowTi 
 about by the rough gale, damp, and almost 
 draggled, Mary carried her fair, disconsolate face 
 into many pictures, coupled with people she dis- 
 liked and grouped with those wiio might be really 
 offensive to her. Then there would be a wearisome 
 delay. The principals, who could afford to be 
 wise, would not brave the weather until the last 
 moment. The light was not good enough the 
 wind was too strong. The supers would be kept 
 waiting about for some hours, thoroughly chilled 
 in their thin dresses and forbidden their wraps. 
 Lunch must be snatched anyhow; most people
 
 284 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 brought their own, cake or biscuits in a pocket, 
 until the despised sandwiches at the studio seemed 
 a luxury, though doled out by Mr. Cunningham's 
 ill-mannered hands. The cast might be dismissed 
 at midday, or hurried back to an indoor scene in 
 one of the most up-to-date studios, where weather 
 made no difference since the lighting was all ar- 
 tificial. But the heat of the great arcs was as 
 bad, or worse, than the sun on the old glass roofs 
 while one was on the stage, and the working day 
 seemed interminable. Mary learnt the bitter les- 
 son of keeping her temper and civility to all mem- 
 bers of the cast during those months of free-lance 
 work; and once she lost a chance of a better en- 
 gagement through a careless snub to the operator, 
 not realising how much power he has in his hands. 
 For the operator, if he chooses, can make an actor 
 or actress hideous on the screen with wrongly 
 arranged lights or focus, and distort a pretty face 
 into an ugly one without betraying his own work. 
 Mary came to one studio with the reputation of 
 being a pretty woman. When she appeared on the 
 screen she was pronounced hopelessly disappoint- 
 ing, and was not re-engaged. Nor could she enter 
 a protest against the operator, though she recog- 
 nised, too late, that he had taken an uncanny re- 
 venge upon her. He could not do her so much 
 harm in the general shot which is the long shot 
 of the whole scene but she had been chosen for a 
 close-up, and the result told against her. After 
 that experience she began to feel a nervous qualm 
 at the sound of the manager's voice to the elec- 
 tricians on the rostrums : ' ' Get your spots ! ' ' and 
 to wonder if the overhead lighting were bringing 
 out all the defects in her. It was no surprise to 
 her if she departed to her trains and omnibuses 
 once more, to crawl across London as best she
 
 WANDERING FIRES 285 
 
 could, fifteen shillings the richer and not re- 
 engaged. 
 
 She learned to climb up those five flights of 
 stairs at Hammersmith in the dusk of a May even- 
 ing, footsore and empty and utterly discouraged, 
 until her beauty began to have a tragic look. She 
 was hoping for a bigger engagement, of course 
 a better part; and indeed she might have got it, 
 having been somewhat starred at Block's, but that 
 she happened to leave them at a moment when 
 other firms were in full swing with a film, and 
 there was no part for her. She was unused to 
 saving, and came to the room next to Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston's with barely enough to pay a week's rent in 
 advance. Therefore she could not afford to wait, 
 and took what work offered " to fill up." 
 
 How tired she was at night ! Even for the short 
 period she had worked in munitions she had not 
 been so tired. She did not often make her bed. 
 It was enough to throw the clothes back in the 
 morning and to throw them on at night. She 
 learned to use one plate instead of three to have 
 less to wash up, and she realised how much work 
 one knife can do now that there was no one to clean 
 more for her. On Sundays she meant to clean her 
 room, but she soon learned to spend the day in bed 
 rather than scrub the old oilcloth on her hands and 
 knees. And even yet she was not quite abandoned 
 by her good fortune, because Mrs. Thirlston had 
 taken up the task of shepherding Mary Trefusis 
 and making the way smoother for her feet as she 
 would not have done for other girls Irene Vansit- 
 tart, for instance though she was always kind 
 to them. But if Mary could get home to tea it was 
 welcoming her in Mrs. Thirlston 's larger, fresher 
 room ; if she had no time to do her shopping Mrs. 
 Thirlston 's basket carried double; and when she
 
 286 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 fell ill, as of course she did fall ill after a time, 
 there was someone to look after her. Mary never 
 was entirely ' ' on her own ' ' after all, and the most 
 grimly ironic thing in her destiny was that she 
 really thought herself a singularly independent 
 character, and boasted of it all her life despite the 
 revelation of this period. She was never inde- 
 pendent, and when other guardians of hers laid 
 down their self-appointed task with relief, her hus- 
 band had to take it up, abandoning his own claim 
 to being a spoilt child with unconscious abnegation. 
 
 It was in May that Mary got a slight attack of 
 influenza, owing to wet clothes and insufficient 
 food. She was not bad enough at first to go to 
 bed, but Mrs. Thirlston, hearing her cough through 
 the open window, came in one night with hot bot- 
 tles and home-made remedies, and saved her from 
 pneumonia. Mary's face looked thinner on the one 
 hard pillow, and her eyes met Alicia's at last with 
 a sense of defeat. 
 
 " I suppose I shall have to! " she said. 
 
 "Lady Alex's letter? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, you've put up a good fight." 
 
 * ' Ah ! but I meant to win the good fight is only 
 losing, after all." 
 
 " My dear, my dear! " said Mrs. Thirlston. 
 1 1 What woman wants to struggle away her youth 
 and all its chances, unless her happiness makes it a 
 fair exchange? You are fighting for nothing, 
 Mary. There 's no goal, even if you win the race. ' ' 
 
 * ' No, ' ' said the thin face on the pillow. * ' There 
 is no goal. ... I thought the light was the home- 
 light, Mrs. Thirlston but it was only a wandering 
 fire." 
 
 " Poor little Mary! ..." 
 
 11 If Jeff had stuck to me . . ."
 
 WANDERING FIRES 287 
 
 ' ' He did his best. You can only see life through 
 your own eyes. Go back to Lady Alex and marry 
 Eddie Thome." 
 
 " Eddie? Why Eddie, of all people on earth? " 
 The large clear eyes got back their old childish 
 curiosity of expression for the moment. 
 
 " Oh, well, Major Durham, if you like or the 
 Ogilvie boy or this last Mr. Sinclair." 
 
 " I'll try," said Mary simply. " It would be 
 better to go back to Aunt Alex with some sort of 
 settled future, if I must go. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Thirlston was silent, with a sense of dis- 
 may for what she had done. It was unsafe to put 
 ideas into Mary's head, however idle they might 
 seem to the speaker. When her patient was out 
 and about again she was amused and rather stag- 
 gered to find that social engagements sandwiched 
 themselves in between spasms of film work, and 
 that Mary was lunching and dining out so far as 
 her dwindling wardrobe allowed her. It fed her 
 better, at any rate, and Alicia consoled herself 
 when she saw the girl less hollow-eyed and ex- 
 hausted. But at the end of another week or so the 
 young lady walked into her room and flung her 
 slip-coat on to the old table with a whirl that made 
 the startled sparrows on the window-sill whirr 
 upwards in a bevy of wings. There was an air of 
 finality about Mary's action. 
 
 " Well, I've tried and I can't," she said. 
 " I 've done with it. I '11 go back to Aunt Alex, if 
 I must, but I won't see any of them again." 
 
 " Have all those men I mentioned proposed to 
 you, Mary? " 
 
 " Two of them have. Johnnie Sinclair didn't, 
 because he either couldn't or thought he'd like the 
 other way best. I respected him the most of the 
 three, I think."
 
 288 WANDEEING FIRES 
 
 " And yet you said no." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't want him ! How easy it is to say 
 no, when you -have no inclination to say yes! 
 Eddie told me that long ago. There 's no virtue in 
 it." 
 
 ' ' So Mr. Sinclair is out of it. And the others ? ' ' 
 
 " Durham was in earnest, and I hated it. 
 Ogilvie ran over like ginger-ale in hot weather, 
 and I hated that more. I had led them on, too. 
 I'm a beast." 
 
 " No, my dear, a girl." 
 
 " Well, do let's have tea, anyway, Mrs. Thirl- 
 ston. The one thing I regret is that they will none 
 of them feed me any more. I did enjoy those 
 spreads! If I go back to Aunt Alex I shall tell 
 her it's because she has a cook a good cook." 
 
 " When you go back to Lady Alex," said Mrs. 
 Thirlston, serenely altering the conjunction to the 
 adverb, " you will enjoy it all the more for your 
 eggs and fish cooked on the oil-stove. Privation 
 has no value but that of shadows in a picture. It 
 throws up the high lights." 
 
 " I have not gone back yet! " said Mary, with 
 a struggle for her paraded emancipation. " If the 
 Prodigal had been a woman and not a man, I doubt 
 whether he would have caved in so easily." 
 
 1 i Even for the dinners f ' ' 
 
 " Oh, well, the fatted calf smells good, while you 
 are still amongst the husks. But there are so 
 many other things " 
 
 " Mary," said Alicia Thirlston seriously, " can 
 you face failure? " 
 
 " I am facing it ! " said the girl resentfully. 
 
 " No, you are not you are afraid, even now. 
 You want to go home just to avoid it, because you 
 know that you will never be a failure in your own
 
 PANDERING FIRES 289 
 
 world. But eould you live with it as I have 
 done! " 
 
 Mary's eyes quickened with a new understand- 
 ing. " Have you lived with it, Mrs. Thirlston? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear. I have been a failure, both 
 socially and as a worker. I belonged to both 
 worlds, and in neither was I really a success, 
 though my needs being small I have not shown it 
 overmuch. As a younger woman it did not matter, 
 because there was always the future I might do 
 something yet, some day; but now that I am old, 
 and weary, and uninteresting, you can take me as 
 a warning." 
 
 Mary looked straight into the plain, aged face, 
 and shuddered. She knew that she would never 
 look like Alicia Thirlston, even at seventy ; but she 
 might be even worse an old woman fluttering the 
 ghost of her beauty in the face of her public, laugh- 
 able because of her effort to hide the failure of 
 which her friend spoke. There was a safeguard 
 in Mrs. Thirlston 's very unimportance; she was so 
 ordinary that she missed attention. But Mary 
 would not slip into the background so easily she 
 would excite a shocked pity if nothing more. In 
 a flash of comprehension she saw that it was intol- 
 erable. She could not live with failure as Alicia 
 Thirlston did. 
 
 The warning haunted her, though she did not 
 realise till long afterwards that Mrs. Thirlston 
 had made a sacrifice in laying bare her own defi- 
 ciencies. It had been an ugly moment of self-rev- 
 elation, and Alicia was a sensitive woman. But 
 someone was bound to be sacrificed to Mary Tre- 
 fusis, that she might even read in a glass darkly, 
 unconscious of her victims. Her dwindling re- 
 sources, the discomforts of her life that were al-
 
 290 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 most privations, all pointed the way back to Lady 
 Alex; and the spectre that Miss Thirlston had 
 raised was the climax. She could not live with 
 failure. It was brought home to her in odd mo- 
 ments, by things that seemed immaterial, and yet 
 were the leverage that moved the whole weight of 
 her will and personality. 
 
 She had been to the Army and Navy Stores one 
 afternoon from former habit, forgetting that it 
 would be wiser to shop at Hammersmith with her 
 present resources. The excursion yielded nothing 
 but the prohibition of a light purse and a flood of 
 memories. She had not been in the crowded, de- 
 corous building since the day when she was stay- 
 ing at Brown's last July, and hailed Sinclair's car, 
 afterwards helping Ogilvie to buy a muff -chain 
 that he was still cherishing as a souvenir of her. 
 The ghost of her old careless smile crossed Mary's 
 lips at the memory. She did not care for such ad- 
 ventures now, the savour was somehow out of 
 them. She seemed to have grown many years 
 older in the past months, like a child who looks 
 back to the dolls of its last birthday from the 
 standard of more complicated toys. It occurred 
 to her that she had secretly looked down on Robin 
 Ward and Ethel Kerr for making friends with men 
 at dancing-classes and being taken out by them 
 later on, and that her mental attitude was hardly 
 justified by her own adventures. Major Durham 
 Sinclair Nolly Ogilvie in what way did her 
 introduction to them differ from Robin's or 
 Ethel's! She recognised that the difference had 
 seemed to her to lie between herself and these 
 girls rather than in their experiences, and the un- 
 comfortable truth frowned at her. Suppose she 
 accepted Lady Alex's offer and returned to the 
 old conditions of her life, would she still assert
 
 [WANDERING FIRES 291 
 
 her independence by such escapades as had seemed 
 to her justifiable or amusing before her father's 
 death? The past year had certainly altered her 
 outlook on life, if not her temperament. She felt 
 that she wanted to assert herself in other ways, 
 less childish and more serious, but that her aunt's 
 unconscious tyranny would be no more tolerable. 
 Yet the lesson taught through Alicia Thirlston, 
 and impressed even by the morning's vain quest 
 for a market within her means, made her realise 
 that there was no other way out of her growing 
 difficulties she would have to go home like a 
 naughty child and admit that her independence 
 was a failure. For the moment she almost hated 
 the dearly-prized fetish of her Own Way for the 
 pass to which it had brought her. 
 
 As she ran down the steps of the Stores and 
 turned up Victoria Street towards the Abbey she 
 found herself walking behind a man in a light 
 spring suit, with one of the soft drab hats that 
 the season had recently evolved as the latest 
 fashion. She was so immediately behind him that 
 she could see nothing but the rather long flat 
 back, the slope of his shoulders, and the nape of 
 his neck; but she would have known that walk 
 amongst a score of others. It was quick as well 
 as light and supple, for he was going somewhere 
 with intent. Mary had almost to run a few steps 
 to bring her close enough to his shoulder for her 
 low voice to reach him. 
 
 " Eddie! " 
 
 Thorne checked and turned round so quickly 
 that it suggested an undesired encounter, but as 
 his eyes met hers his face cleared. He looked older 
 and thinner and less boyish, as she saw at once; 
 the past year had not let him off scathless any 
 more than it had her. But he was not dissipated
 
 292 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 in appearance, whatever lie might have been 
 doing; the athletic training of his whole life had 
 stood him in good stead, and habits of physical 
 exercise had kept him in the same fine condition 
 that she remembered. He raised the soft hat (it 
 suited him, she noticed. That was so like Eddie! 
 He never followed a fashion if it did not, and was 
 in consequence a well-dressed man without being 
 too smart), and shook hands with her with a kind, 
 close pressure. 
 
 " Where have you tumbled from? " he said, 
 almost eagerly. " Are you in town now? Let's 
 walk on and then we can talk. ' ' 
 
 " I don't think I'm fit to walk with you," said 
 Mary, with an accession of her most off-hand man- 
 ner. ' ' I just discovered this morning how shabby 
 I am, and that I can't afford to buy more clothes." 
 There was the faintest bitterness in her tone, not 
 for the trivial contrast between his air of well- 
 being and her own sense of a hateful disadvantage, 
 but for all it conveyed. She felt shabby in her 
 experiences and in her failure rather than in her 
 person. She saw him glance at her quickly and 
 smile and frown together in the old fashion. 
 
 " Don't be silly ! " he said, drawling a little with 
 the added emphasis. " Don't you think I want to 
 walk with the prettiest girl in London whatever 
 she wears? What's the matter with you, Molly? 
 Are you having a down? " 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm down and out," said Mary, 
 with a faint laugh. " I can't tell you everything 
 at once, Eddie there's such a lot. But Aunt 
 Alex has written me that they've scraped some- 
 thing out of the mess of father's affairs, and she 
 will have me back if I like to go. I'm afraid I 
 shall have to." The bitten underlip betrayed how 
 galling that admission was.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 293 
 
 " Much better," said Thorne decidedly. 
 " You've had your fling, and you'll enjoy a good 
 time all the more after a bit of roughing it. Was it 
 roughing it, Molly? ' His voice changed, and was 
 very tender as to a punished child. She moved 
 closer to him instinctively, craving for the sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 11 I suppose it was a bit rough. I didn't notice 
 it at first, I was so keen on being on my own. ' ' 
 
 " The cinema show wasn't a success, then? " 
 
 11 Oh, yes, it was, in a way. But I'm not so used 
 to managing as the other girls, I suppose." The 
 humiliating truth was dragged out of her. * ' And 
 then, when I left Block's some months ago I 
 took up piece-work so much a day at any studio, 
 and sometimes you seem to make a lot, and then 
 it's nothing. I never managed to save up to pay 
 you back what you lent me. I can now, if I go back 
 to Aunt Alex." The uneasy sense of obligation 
 was as a ghost that looked at her with Jefferson 
 Bromley's eyes. It was he who had kept the debt 
 before her honesty, or, without any intention of 
 taking advantage of Thome's generosity, she 
 might never have troubled to remember it at all. 
 Bromley's creed was different to her somewhat 
 lax morality, and she had never been able to forget 
 it, with a vague sense of shame. 
 
 " Look here," Thorne said plainly, " if you re- 
 fer to that again I won't speak to you at all. My 
 dear thing, can 't I lend to a pal who is up against 
 it without all this bother about repayment? I 
 don't even remember what it was, and I don't want 
 to. If you had sent it back I should only have 
 blown the lot at bridge or racing." 
 
 " I must pay you back though," said Mary, 
 more as if she said it to Bromley's memory than 
 to the man at her side. ' ' But it 's awfully decent
 
 294 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 of you to let it run on. , Since I've worked for the 
 bread I put into my mouth I've looked at a loan 
 from another standpoint. Why are we stopping? 
 Are you going in here? " 
 
 Thorne had suddenly paused before a narrow 
 doorway with swing-glass doors and a brass plate 
 on the coping-stone. It was bounded on either 
 hand by business premises, but it was obviously 
 a private block itself. He looked at Mary half un- 
 certainly, half as if calculating an unknown quan- 
 tity. 
 
 ' l I have a service flat here, ' ' he said. * l I took it 
 off another fellow for six months, while he went to 
 America on a Government job. Will you come in 
 and have a talk? I don't see that it can matter 
 except that the lift-boy will see you." 
 
 " I don't mind if you don't." 
 
 Her hesitation was, curiously enough, for him 
 rather than herself. She knew nothing of Eddie's 
 life now beyond the divorce, but he might have 
 formed other ties he might be going to venture 
 on marriage again and she had no wish to do him 
 a bad turn. He did not answer in words, but, 
 pushing back the glass door, drew her gently past 
 him and along a carpeted entrance to the lift, 
 which took them up to the second floor. Here there 
 were three or four bachelor flats, each with its 
 own private door, and furnished alike in a dull 
 crimson that Mary liked soft pile carpets, red 
 leather chairs, a glimpse of a bedroom as they 
 passed the open door, with a crimson silk cover- 
 ing to the bed and curtains of the same shade. It 
 was too subdued to be monotonous. They went 
 into the dining-room, and were greeted with po- 
 liteness by a small white terrier as Thorne pushed 
 forward one of the deep chairs for her. Mary 
 knew Chit, and he knew her. As she silently
 
 WANDERING FIEES 295 
 
 petted the dog she looked round her with a sharp 
 remembrance of the shabby sitting-room in Koe- 
 hampton where she had stood one sunny evening 
 in early May with Bromley. The contrast to her 
 present surroundings seemed the dividing-line be- 
 tween that real, vivid life and the one to which 
 she knew now that she was going back real, also, 
 in its very artificiality. 
 
 11 You seem pretty comfortable here," she said 
 quietly, rubbing Chit's rough white chest to his 
 infinite content. He never made any secret of his 
 opinion of the women who invaded his master's 
 life and his own. He had pronounced Petrova 
 impossible on a first acquaintance, but Eddie 
 would not heed. He had said equally plainly that 
 Mary Trefusis was a desirable person whenever 
 he had been allowed at Kestaw T hile. 
 
 " Yes, these flats are a blessing. You get ser- 
 vice, and meals when you want 'em, and no bother. 
 It's ideal for a bachelor though some of the 
 larger flats below have got married people in 
 them, too." 
 
 " You're still a bachelor, Eddie? " 
 
 " Yes." He spoke curtly, and she thought he 
 was going to close the subject, when he added in 
 a lower voice: " I've made a failure too, you 
 see." 
 
 " Eddie, do you remember telling me that I 
 should follow wandering fires? * 
 
 " Did I? " He turned to her with one of his 
 quick movements and looked hard at the young 
 face, almost stern in its gravity, if such a thing 
 could be with Mary's mobile loveliness. " Well! 
 Did you? " he said. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do JOM want to tell me anything, Molly? You 
 said once that you wondered if you could! "
 
 296 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 He stooped and framed her face in his two 
 hands, looking down into her eyes that were no 
 longer the eyes of a curious child. Perhaps he 
 thought that he was helping her to confession. 
 The tragedy seemed to her that she had nothing 
 to confess. 
 
 * ' I could have told you, if I had had anything 
 to tell." She looked back at him with a resent- 
 ment that convinced him as no assertion would 
 have done. " I offered myself to a man and he 
 wouldn't have me! " 
 
 " "Why? " 
 
 " He was married. I wanted to live with him. 
 He refused." 
 
 Thorne was stroking her cheek gently ; it flushed 
 angrily as she spoke, as if the struggle and the 
 pain surged back over her again. Unlikely as her 
 statement seemed to him, from his own experience 
 or other men's, he saw that it was true. Perhaps 
 he marvelled, but he had to accept it. 
 
 " What was his reason? " he asked half ab- 
 sently. He was aware anew of the length of 
 Mary's eyelashes, her delicately-drawn brows, the 
 lifted upper lip, and despite all his acquired cyni- 
 cism it quickened his blood a little. She was again 
 11 the loveliest thing he ever saw," though he had 
 been deeply in love with a very different woman, 
 had had several affairs since, and had never 
 even kissed Mary Trefusis save that once at Roe- 
 hampton. Yet he was ardently aware of her 
 beauty, as he had been then, and her reply struck 
 him as the more incongruous for his own sensa- 
 tions. 
 
 " He said he loved me. I suppose he did. He 
 wanted to leave me free to marry to have a home, 
 and a husband, and children, that I didn't want. 
 I wanted him. He forced a future on me in ex-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 297 
 
 change for the present. But it's the present that 
 matters." 
 
 " Yes ! " said Thome blankly. He felt suddenly 
 that Mary and he understood each other, and that 
 people like this man of hers and Petrova were too 
 generous in guarding them against themselves, 
 Petrova had cut the tangle of their marriage ' ' to 
 give them both another chance." He had not 
 wanted chances. Mary had suffered from the 
 same anxious forethought. 
 
 " Did you care for him very much? " he said, 
 out of his own pain. It had the quality of a child 's 
 question, and there w r as something of the hurt 
 child in his manner that touched Mary. She was 
 not so selfish as a year since, and her intuition had 
 been quickened. 
 
 " It was all the best of me," she said. " At 
 least, it was all the deepest. I shall go back to 
 the old standards, and the usual give and take of 
 our life you know. But I don't think I shall ever 
 feel like that again. ' ' She looked up at him a little 
 curiously, almost with diffidence. He had turned 
 away from her and was fingering the solid bronzes 
 on the mantelpiece. He looked young, and full of 
 life, and smart in his light suit; but his face was 
 not young at the moment. In the pause his dog 
 sniffed mournfully, as if his sixth sense with re- 
 gard to his master made him aware of Petrova 's 
 shadow. Perhaps Mary was aware of it too. 
 
 " Eddie," she said breathlessly, " we've both 
 been hard hit. ... I wish you'd marry me. If I 
 have to go back to Aunt Alex it would be so much 
 more bearable if it wasn't forever." 
 
 He glanced at her quickly, as if incredulous, 
 with the ghost of an old merriment in his eyes. 
 " This is so sudden! " he said demurely. " Are 
 you serious, Molly? I've often been proposed to,
 
 298 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 of course, but there has generally been more to 
 lead up to it! " 
 
 Mary laughed too, a little recklessly. " I do 
 mean it," she said. " I couldn't risk it with an- 
 other man, but I believe I could with you. Oh, 
 Eddie, do let's get married and do as we like ! " 
 
 This was not Thome's actual view of matri- 
 mony, as he had proved already. That he should 
 marry and do as he liked was a- sine qua non; that 
 the girl he married should take her obligations 
 more seriously was the condition that Petrova had 
 so resented. But he was as usual the victim of 
 his own impulse. Mary had left her chair and 
 was standing beside him in her eager, breathing 
 loveliness, quite uncalculating, however, upon its 
 effect. She wanted a renewal of her liberty under 
 another form, and she saw it in the man before 
 her. Moreover, the gambling spirit of the offer 
 had taken her fancy, and she was ready to risk 
 herself and Eddie Thorne for the humour of the 
 moment the future for the present, as she said. 
 The temptation to Thorne lay in the fact that he 
 thought he did not care he had so resented the 
 unusuaA suffering forced upon him that he con- 
 cluded he never should care any more, just as 
 Mary had said of herself. And here was a girl 
 of whom he had really been fond in his lighter 
 fashion, and to whom he could do a good turn, 
 without much damage to himself either way. Let 
 her have him, since she asked for it ! He did not 
 realise that the fact that Mary was present, within 
 a foot of him, was a very potent factor too. To 
 Thorne, the person in the immediate vicinity was 
 the one most in his thoughts and most likely to 
 influence him. He had been perfectly honest when 
 he said once that out of sight was out of mind with 
 him. Mary was not out of sight at the present mo-
 
 WANDERING FIRES 299 
 
 ment, she had reinstated herself in his sphere of 
 vision, and he was beginning to respond to her 
 personality again. 
 
 ''Are you serious, Molly? Do you really want 
 me to marry you ? ' ' 
 
 He took her by the shoulders and held her be- 
 fore him, looking down into her face with a more 
 personal interest. He was a little remorseful to 
 feel how much thinner she was, and to miss the 
 merry, upward curve to her pretty mouth. With 
 a man's naive assurance, he promised himself 
 that he would make up to her for what she had 
 gone through, and pet her more than a little to 
 secure a balance that was beyond his readjusting. 
 
 Mary raised her linked hands and laid them 
 against his breast. The movement had something 
 of confidence and affection in it, and yet it held 
 him safely at a little distance. She had forgotten 
 how expressive his eyes were, and how easily they 
 altered to a most unhallowed emotion. It did not 
 warn her, because she did not care, but she was 
 vaguely aware that in spite of wandering fires he 
 was capable of lighting a blaze nearer at hand that 
 might become unmanageable. 
 
 " Yes, I do, Eddie," she said desperately. 
 * ' And you 're the only man I could stick as a hus- 
 band." 
 
 " Then I'll take you," said Thorne, with brief 
 decision. He slipped his arms from her shoulders 
 to her waist, but found those slight hands on his 
 breast held her just beyond reach. " Well? " he 
 said suspiciously. 
 
 " We've nothing to give each other like that. 
 We're not in love," she said more gravely. " I 
 don't want to marry you under false pretences. 
 I'm fond of you I think I shall be very fond of 
 you. ' ' Her eyes opened wider with a puzzled rev-
 
 300 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 elation. " You're very lovable, Eddie. But I 
 don't want you to think " 
 
 " I don't want you to think," he interrupted. 
 " I want you to feel." The pressure on her waist 
 tightened so that her caressing touch on his breast 
 must be absolute resistance or give way. She felt 
 the ominous strength in his arms, and with a secret 
 panic put her hands back to drag them apart ; but 
 her hands closing on his muscles paralysed her 
 with a revelation of what athletics will do for a 
 man. They felt like flexible steel, as hard as the 
 tempered metal, and the horrible part was that 
 they were alive. Thorne was so deceptive in his 
 appearance that she would have granted him 
 swiftness or suppleness, or grace, rather than that 
 blatant strength. She could not move his arms 
 one inch, and she went headlong against him in 
 consequence, her resistance being all at once with- 
 drawn, and heard him laugh. Mary flushed storm- 
 ily, as much for the dance in his eyes as for the 
 embrace, and flung her head aside so that his kiss 
 fell harmlessly on her warm cheek. 
 
 " It seems disloyal! " she stammered in dis- 
 tress. " For us both ..." 
 
 He released her quickly enough then, almost 
 pushed her from him as if she had struck him, and 
 his voice was again that of the hurt child that 
 touched her so. " You might have let me for- 
 get! " he said. " You say you've cared for some- 
 one. If you cared like that you wouldn't make 
 mistakes. I'm not offering you what I gave her. 
 I couldn't. But I can't talk about that. ... I 
 want to forget. ' ' 
 
 His eyes had suddenly grown dark. She did not 
 know if they were wet it seemed impossible! 
 but the dance in them had gone out. She realised 
 that if he had looked at her with such eyes she
 
 WANDERING FIRES 301 
 
 could not have met them indifferently, and though 
 he might never do so, her heart quickened from 
 its level, healthy stroke, so that even her breast 
 grew warm with the rush of blood. Strangely 
 enough, she loved him for his love for another 
 woman.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MARY TREFUSIS stood at the window and 
 looked out over a rollicking expanse of sea 
 that filled the horizon from Hove beach to 
 Worthing. The window faced south-west, and 
 swept round the corner of the block of flats, so 
 that the world looked all sea and sky, with an im- 
 material prospect of the parade immediately be- 
 low if one chose to look down, which the girl was 
 not doing. Her large eyes under the fringed lids 
 were almost as empty of expression as they had 
 been a year ago, but she looked older because of 
 the determination in her face. Mary had always 
 been self-willed, but it had. been the wind's will, 
 incalculable, blowing where it listed. Now it was 
 the will of combined force, like some element har- 
 nessed to a purpose. 
 
 She was exquisitely dressed in well-cut clothes 
 and dark furs that made her fair face fairer still, 
 and she was so little conscious of them that it 
 seemed impossible that she could ever have gone 
 shabby. Yet the amused smile on her lips at the 
 moment was due to a memory of her appearance 
 when she capitulated to Lady Alex and her well- 
 run flat, and came down to Brighton in June. Her 
 aunt's expression had been more illuminating than 
 any mirror. Mary laughed outright a small, 
 amused laugh that had no bitterness in it, but a 
 new and devastating knowledge of life. She had 
 slipped so easily back into the old grooves that 
 
 302
 
 WANDERING FIEES 303 
 
 she seemed to bring no experience with her gained 
 from the past year of her life. But the experience 
 went deeper than the fair mask of her smooth 
 flesh. Then her eyes fell idly on her hand resting 
 against the bright window, and the broken fire of 
 diamonds on her third finger Eddie's diamonds 
 catching the October sunlight like fireworks. 
 She was turning her hand childishly to make them 
 flash when Lady Alex entered the room. 
 
 " My dear, what do you think? " she said, and 
 her manner was more vital and eager of life than 
 Mary's own. " Curtis has just told me she saw 
 it advertised. The picture at the Palladium is one 
 of yours! " 
 
 " No! " Mary was quite as amused as her 
 aunt, if less excited. It was characteristic of Lady 
 Alex that after sweeping condemnation, after a 
 storm of rage, she should have swung round in 
 her mental attitude to find a childish pleasure in 
 seeing her niece on the screen. Lady Alex loved 
 the cinemas. She always went on Sunday evening 
 and took a party with her. The vestibule of the 
 Palladium knew her as well as any bridge club, 
 and the officials sympathetically informed her 
 when there was something specially good on the 
 week's bill. 
 
 " Which is it? " said Mary with a laugh. " I 
 
 have been in quite a lot, what with Block's and 
 
 the more modern firms. You'll shriek at me, I 
 
 expect, Aunt Alex. My hands and arms were 
 
 awful at first ! ' ' 
 
 "I'm simply dying to see you. Come along 
 we must hurry. I hope the Laycocks won't be 
 late. Is Carter there? " 
 
 " Yes, the car's been waiting for some time." 
 
 Mary lifted the sables that Lady Alex had 
 thrown down on the table and swun;r them over
 
 304 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 her aunt's shoulders with critical appreciation. 
 There was no one quite like. Lady Alex in Hove 
 or anywhere else. As the car bowled smoothly 
 past the Baths and on to Prince's, going east, 
 every person strolling within sight turned their 
 heads and looked, not so much at the girl, pretty 
 as she was, as at the strange woman with silver 
 hair and sea-blue eyes and the skin of a young 
 child. She was so beautiful that she frightened 
 people a little, but her niece never failed to admire 
 her even when a storm was up between their 
 clashing wills. 
 
 " I think this is so thrilling! Curtis was nearly 
 breathless when she told me," said Lady Alex 
 Curtis was her maid. " What a chance that one 
 of your pictures should be here just now! Has 
 Eddie seen it any of them? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " I suppose he won't mind, Mary? " A sudden 
 teasing smile lit the wonderful opal of Lady Alex's 
 eyes. " Will it be the end of all things between 
 you ? I heartily hope it may ! ' 
 
 " I really don't know until I see what picture it 
 is," said Mary indifferently. " But I thought you 
 liked him. ' ' 
 
 " Oh like! Anyone likes a man of Eddie's 
 type. But I don't want you to marry a divorce 
 when he has been free for barely six months ! It's 
 scandalous impossible! ' 
 
 They had been through this before. Mary's 
 strong will rose visibly in her face, and the indom- 
 itable intention to marry whom, and when, she 
 chose. The date had been fixed for next month. 
 Lady Alex had stormed, reasoned herself into rea- 
 son, and ended by kissing Eddie and very nearly 
 shaking him at the same time.
 
 WANDERING FIEES 305 
 
 " You ought to be thankful to hand me over to 
 him, aunt. And you are not above flirting with 
 him yourself! " added Mary derisively. 
 
 " He would flirt with anything it is no compli- 
 ment to me," said Lady Alex impatiently. " If 
 you tied a skirt round a broomstick and left it with 
 Eddie he would begin by making eyes at it and 
 end by getting really rather struck. That's the 
 man you 've got, Mary. Of course he is adorable, 
 I grant you that ; but always from someone else 's 
 point of view rather than his wife's." 
 
 " And yet I shall be very fond of him," said 
 Mary composedly. 
 
 " You will have to, to make your married life 
 endurable. ' ' 
 
 " I think the one thing a woman never forgives 
 is having nothing to forgive! " said Mary slowly. 
 Her eyes deepened. Some shadow from last year 
 seemed to fall in them and cause them to expand 
 and lose their childishness. 
 
 " You will have plenty to forgive with Eddie 
 Thorne! " 
 
 " He will follow wandering fires and they will 
 lead him into trouble, and then he will come back 
 to me," said Mary, with sudden conviction. " I've 
 been there myself. You can let us alone, Aunt 
 Alex perhaps we are only suited to each other." 
 
 Lady Alex looked at her a little curiously as the 
 car slowed up at the Palladium and they got out. 
 She was secretly fond of Mary, and she grudged 
 her unsatisfactory marriage, though she was wise 
 enough to see that it might have been a worse en- 
 tanglement. Thorne was at least a gentleman ac- 
 cording to her own standard, a man whose family 
 one knew. Lady Alex had heard nothing from 
 Mary of any personal experience, but she could
 
 306 WANDEKING FIRES 
 
 make a shrewd guess that there had been an es- 
 cape. . . . That half -hint in the girl's last speech 
 confirmed the impression. 
 
 Colonel and Mrs. Laycock were waiting in the 
 vestibule of the hall, with the seats already booked. 
 There was a pause of greeting, of references to 
 what was to come, of fresh excitement. Then they 
 passed on into the hall itself. 
 
 The curtain was down for the moment, and the 
 hidden band was giving the music of ' ' Patience. ' ' 
 Mary w r as too young to do more than recognise an 
 air, but Colonel Laycock picked up the words, 
 humming them : 
 
 "Yes, the pain that is almost a pleasure will change 
 
 To the pleasure that's almost pain, 
 And never, ah never! our hearts will range 
 From the old, old love again ! ' ' 
 
 " Aunt Alex," said Mary suddenly, " do you 
 remember Miss Alicia Thirlston ? I always forgot 
 to ask you. ' ' 
 
 li Alicia Thirlston? Oh, yes she had a craze 
 for amateur theatricals, and we used to act in 
 duologues together. I believe she went on the 
 stage later, but she never did anything." 
 
 " I met her when I was with Block's, and I 
 lived next door to her before I came back to you," 
 said Mary, with a little shrug. She never masked 
 her adventures of the past year. * * She was an old 
 dear ! I liked her. ' ' 
 
 " She was an unsuccessful woman," said Lady 
 Alex trenchantly. " I have no use for unsuccess. 
 Alicia was plain, and her brains were the wrong 
 calibre for her monde. I daresay she is happier 
 as she is now. ' ' 
 
 For a minute Mary thought of an attic under 
 the roof of a storehouse in Hammersmith, where
 
 WANDERING FIEES 307 
 
 the sparrows fed upon the window-sill, and of an 
 old woman with ugly green eyes and a long upper 
 lip w r ho had once belonged to the world of which 
 Lady Alex Ratrick was part and parcel. Lady 
 Alex in her sables seemed impossible to link up 
 with Alicia Thirlston, even in amateur theatricals. 
 It was unforgiveable not to be a success of some 
 sort in Lady Alex's w r orld. Mary attempted no 
 defence of Miss Thirlston, an indeed there was 
 none, save that she was a woman who could live 
 with failure. Mary had simply liked her. Per- 
 haps she might have said so three months ago. 
 Now she looked at Eddie 's diamonds on her finger, 
 and said nothing. 
 
 The hall filled, and the first picture appeared on 
 the screen. It was the comedy before the star 
 piece of real drama. Whoever calls the cinema 
 educative must be referring to the education of 
 a child's picture-book or the rough fun of a fair. 
 It was robust in humour, uproarious, highly col- 
 oured in action if not in fact. The education of 
 Comic Cuts w r ith the old-time sentiment of " Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin." Now that she understood the 
 technique, Mary watched it with interest as some- 
 thing clever in production, costly beyond the 
 dreams of the audience, who saw T motor-cars pro- 
 ceeding at an impossible rate, people performing 
 acrobatic feats, and the collapse of buildings that 
 could only be due to earthquake shocks. Not edu- 
 cative, save in nimble trickery. People round her 
 laughed with the huge guffaw of an effortless 
 brain. They were tickled with the fun of a little 
 man and a fat woman strutting about to fall over 
 the simplest obstacle and contort themselves 
 struggling. 
 
 11 How stupid! " said Lady Alex, wiping her 
 eyes from tears of laughter.
 
 308 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 " Those are knockabout artists they earn 
 their pay! " said Mary dryly. 
 
 " They can't really do that! " said Mrs. Lay- 
 cock. " Are they padded, do you think? " 
 
 " Dummies half the time, I suppose, Miss Tre- 
 fusis? " said the Colonel. " Some illusion with 
 looking-glasses, I've been told." 
 
 ' ' Oh, no, that is their work, ' ' said Mary in some 
 surprise. * l The public pay them for the bruises. ' ' 
 
 " Poor devils P 
 
 " What a curious life! " 
 
 " The public like it, or they wouldn't do it." 
 
 Mary remembered Mrs. Thirlston saying once, 
 ' ' The public is a god, ' ' and sat silent, wondering. 
 A motley god, accepting strange oblations. Her 
 thoughts went back to Gladys Smythe and her 
 type, asking different things of the screen emo- 
 tions, sentiment, faces by which one could imagine 
 romance. Was that educative either? The big 
 reels had cost some five or six thousand pounds 
 each, and they were fresh and fresh each week. 
 The public would pay for that more cheerfully 
 than for schools. . . . 
 
 ' * Your picture at last, Mary ! ' ' said Lady Alex. 
 
 " The Woman Pays. A drama of human emo- 
 tions. Picturing Jefferson Bromley, Percy Cun- 
 ningham, Mary Trefusis," etc. In her excitement 
 Lady Alex almost nudged her niece, whose name 
 was really on the screen, readable by all. It 
 seemed almost a phase of success. It was an ad- 
 vertisement, at least. Mary leaned forward with 
 a certain curiosity in her face, that made her more 
 than ever like a child. She had never yet seen 
 herself on the screen, and she experienced the odd- 
 est sensation, as her figure walked into her own 
 vision, as of one who meets an apparition in broad 
 daylight and the most commonplace surroundings.
 
 WANDERING FIRES 309 
 
 Was that how she looked and behaved ordinarily! 
 Did her gown hang like that, and was she so ready 
 to smile at the most impossible people? For a 
 minute it struck her as ludicrous, and she was im- 
 patient of the part which had seemed so good 
 when Block expounded it to her. 
 
 Her mood gradually changed as the film pro- 
 gressed. That had been acting, even on the screen. 
 The girl with her own face and figure was develop- 
 ing into a woman, and there was never any doubt 
 of the reality of the man with her, Jeff Bromley. 
 He was never unnatural or over-dramatic. He 
 seemed to her exactly as he had been every day, 
 off the stage, so that he moved and breathed be- 
 fore her in his living self. She caught her breath 
 a little and set her teeth, afraid lest Lady Alex 
 or the Laycocks should look at her and see . . . 
 something. She had never betrayed herself in the 
 past four months and she would not now, for the 
 woman on the screen w r as dead and Mary Trefusis 
 sitting in the Palladium was someone quite differ- 
 ent, someone who looked at life from a different 
 standpoint and wore Eddie Thome's diamonds on 
 her left hand. 
 
 Would Eddie, of all her present world, have 
 understood? A memory of him, with eyes she 
 could not meet with indifference, came up to ease 
 the horrible choked feeling that had surged over 
 her. She did not know why, but she was glad 
 that she was going to marry Eddie, and going 
 away from Lady Alex, with her beautiful, hare! 
 exterior, and her beautiful, hard mind. There 
 was a very tender humanity in Eddie Thome. 
 
 The film was really a success for its very inten- 
 sity of passion and of suffering. Nobody, even 
 in that cinema-educated audience, laughed, and 
 Mary's own party sat silent, straining forward,
 
 310 WANDERING FIKES 
 
 watching scene after scene with an interest that 
 was almost awed. Mary alone knew what was 
 coming her scene with Jeff. . . . She looked 
 with cold and almost repellent eyes at the face of 
 the woman in his arms her own face so altered 
 and marred by feeling that she hardly acknowl- 
 edged it. Was that how she had looked . . . 
 and felt . . . ? The shadow of her own lost pos- 
 sibilities seemed to have fallen upon her when at 
 last the show was over, and she was listening 
 with unconcerned face to the honest congratula- 
 tions of her aunt and the Laycocks. " I did not 
 know you had it in you, Mary! " " Well, aunt, 
 what of your own histrionic talent? Bound to 
 come out somewhere in the family.'* " Well, of 
 course, I always longed to go on the stage! ' "I 
 was quite thrilled, Miss Trefusis ! 'Pon my soul, 
 you made me cry! ' " My dear Mary, you really 
 were wonderful! Who's the man who acts with 
 you? " " Oh, a regular cinema star a well- 
 known man, Mrs. Laycock. You'll see him on all 
 the big reels." She felt as if she were defending 
 her own heart from pin-pricks. The horrible part 
 was that this thing that she had done, had given 
 to the public, seemed to make her vulnerable. It 
 was on show night after night, the reality of her 
 pain, the kind of thing that a woman hides from 
 her own soul. . . . She remembered that when she 
 had played the part she was unawakened, she had 
 unconsciously given herself away through the re- 
 lief of acting what she felt . . . but lie had 
 known. . . . 
 
 It was a relief to be in the cool of the outside 
 world, bowling swiftly home, the keen, strong air 
 that was full of the sea bracing her to fresh en- 
 durance. The sun was setting, a realistic wound
 
 WANDERING FIRES 311 
 
 of bloody crimson in the softly-folded grey sky, 
 and the light came in a ladder across the smooth 
 surface of the water to the wet shingle-sand. Peo- 
 ple were having a last constitutional before din- 
 ner, up and down the front in the clean, sharp air. 
 The buildings stood out white and touched with 
 points of light, and the lawns were dense green. 
 The whole place showed up prosperous and 
 leisurely, and with no purpose save that of amuse- 
 ment. There was no shady side to Brighton, no 
 reality of human pain or grief. It was just a 
 pleasure-place, for people sufficiently monied to 
 pay for it. And the car, rolling along the smooth 
 road to the costly flat, seemed a part of the desir- 
 able artificiality. 
 
 " Well, I must own I never expected to be so 
 thrilled! " said Lady Alex, pausing at the draw- 
 ing-room door. She seemed inclined to linger and 
 chat, like a child who wants to discuss a party. 
 But Mary turned away to her own bedroom. 
 
 " We shall be late if we don't hurry, Aunt 
 Alex and there are people coming to bridge 
 afterwards, are there not? " 
 
 " We have time to smoke a cigarette." 
 
 Anyone else would have followed the imperious 
 voice into the drawing-room, afraid to thwart 
 their hostess. Lady Alex wanted to smoke, and 
 that was sufficient to make her late for dinner or 
 bridge if she chose. Mary took absolutely no 
 notice. She went on into her room and closed the 
 door. If she did not offend her aunt she would 
 inevitably come into the bulk of her fortune as 
 well as the little money that she already had from 
 the wreck of her father's affairs. Lady Alex had 
 made it plain that she meant to make her incor- 
 rigible, unmanageable niece her heiress unless
 
 312 WANDERING FIRES 
 
 hopelessly estranged from her. Yet Mary never 
 tried not to offend her, and treated her, as now, 
 with a secondary consideration to her own will. 
 
 She crossed the room to the dressing-table, 
 swung the threefold mirror into place, and, stoop- 
 ing down, looked long at herself. The face under 
 the picturesque hat was more lovely than that in 
 the pictures, by reason of its delicate colour and 
 serenity. It was not torn by untoward fate or 
 marred by disfiguring passion. Reality may have 
 a certain savage nobility, but it is not becoming, 
 and the girl who was going to marry Eddie 
 Thorne next month was infinitely more beautiful 
 than she whom Jefferson Bromley had held in his 
 desperate arms. The face, with its large clear 
 eyes, densely lashed, looked back at her calmly, a 
 little grave, but quite composed. She took off the 
 picturesque hat and pulled her thick soft hair 
 rather lower on her forehead. The short upper lip 
 lifted, almost smiled, and the one dimple showed 
 in her round cheek. No girl could have seen her 
 own image as Mary did without a sense of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 But the face that she saw in the glass was not 
 the face that she had seen upon the screen. 
 
 THE END
 
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