ALMOND-BLOSSOM
 
 By the same Author 
 
 BELONGING 
 
 CONQUEST 
 
 FRAILTY 
 
 POSSESSION 
 
 THE FLAME 
 
 INSTEAD 
 
 PAYMENT 
 
 STOLEN HOURS 
 
 NEVERTHELESS 
 
 REALITY
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVE WADSLEY 
 
 Author of "Belonging" "Conquest" etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 1921
 
 Copyright 1921 
 By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, INC. 
 
 First printing. Oct. 1921 
 Second printing, Nov. 1921 
 
 PRINTED IN THB U. S. A.
 
 To 
 NEWMAN FLOWER 
 
 2138821
 
 BOOK I
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " // is something to have smelt the mystic rose, 
 Although it break and leave the thorny rods. 
 It is something to have hungered once as those 
 Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods" 
 
 G. K. CHESTERTON 
 
 WHEN he had quite finished breakfast, which 
 he ate contentedly, and did not compare 
 disparagingly with the set meal he would 
 have had at home, but, instead, drank the really 
 excellent coffee and consumed rolls and confiture in 
 large quantities, Rexford strolled out from under 
 the shade of the pink and white tasselled awning 
 and surveyed the day. 
 
 It was a day worthy of observation a golden 
 and blue day, a day of crystalline clearness and 
 etched shadows, so white was the sunshine; a day 
 unquestionably, in Eexford's opinion, in which "to 
 do something." Days generally meant that to him, 
 specially in a town where the "doing" consisted in 
 getting out of it, and if Pago was not exactly a 
 town, it was a place of streets, and as such, meet to 
 be left. 
 
 Rexford lit a cigarette from a tiny lighter and,
 
 4 ALMONDJ3LOSSOM 
 
 true to type, looked round for a dog, and in looking 
 round, had an instant's vision of the courtyard of 
 his own place, with the kennel-man grooming one of 
 the terriers, preferably Mck, as Mck was Rexford's 
 best-beloved. 
 
 Still visioning Nick's amber eyes and exactly 
 "right" coat and build, Rexford strolled back into 
 the hotel and up to his wife's room. 
 
 He walked with that very slight swing of the 
 shoulders and even slighter looseness of gait which 
 is so sure a betrayal of an athlete, and as he waited 
 for a moment after his knock, he loomed very large 
 indeed against the white-painted, narrow door. 
 
 Francesca was drinking her chocolate in bed, 
 reading Rexford's letters for him, and planning his 
 day. 
 
 He kissed her hair, which was enchanting, and 
 tied back like a little girl's with a big ribbon-bow, 
 let himself down carefully into a frail wicker chair 
 which groaned at him, stretched, smiled at Fran- 
 cesca, and said : 
 
 "Well, what about it?" 
 
 He had made just that same remark every morn- 
 ing during the tour, and Francesca had always met 
 his need by letting him drive her to the place she 
 thought he would like best, where he could either 
 swim, or fish, or shoot, or, at least, watch others 
 engaged in some relatively arduous sport. 
 
 Those friends of Francesca who delighted to lay 
 claim to that disturbing oddness known as " perfect
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 5 
 
 frankness " (the last characteristic which should 
 deserve this celestial qualification, having regard 
 to its effect on those who unwillingly receive its 
 benefit!) often told her she "managed" Tony. 
 
 Francesca used to listen to them and smile, and 
 relate their comment to Tony, and laugh. 
 
 Tony laughed the louder. 
 
 In point of fact Francesca loved her husband ; she 
 had fallen in love with him at once, and though she 
 was quite aware that he was, perhaps, not very 
 " quick," and that many people thought him heavy, 
 whilst she agreed with them, she liked his heaviness, 
 just as she liked his fair hair, well watered down in 
 the morning and before dinner, but apt to become 
 less sleek towards mid-afternoon, just as she liked 
 his blue eyes and obstinate, boyish mouth and his 
 whole air of strength and bigness. 
 
 This morning, in the filtered light of her room, 
 he looked bigger than ever in his thin, white suit. 
 
 There was a knock at the door and Miguel, the 
 waiter, came in holding an armful of yellow roses 
 and beaming widely; he broke into a torrent of 
 speech, descriptive of his own prowess in obtaining 
 the flowers, their beauty, the beauty of the noble 
 Excelentisima, his wife, and of the generosity of 
 the Excellency himself. 
 
 Bexford lifted an eyebrow, handed the man five 
 pesetas, and said : 
 
 " Give 'em here, will you? Thanks." He held out 
 the roses to Francesca : " I was afraid I mightn't
 
 6 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 get the right ones yellow, y'know. Of course, 
 others wouldn't have been the same." 
 
 He rose and sat down on the bed beside her, and 
 they both laughed ; he slid an arm round her. 
 
 " Tragedy if that comic opera little chap hadn't 
 been able to get 'em, wouldn't it have been, darling, 
 to-day of all days?" 
 
 His wife put up a white arm, drew down his head 
 and kissed him. 
 
 "You have the loveliest ideas, Tony," she said 
 very gently, keeping his face to hers. 
 
 Kexford beamed. 
 
 " Oh, I dunno," he said in the happy voice of the 
 really assured, " but getting married to anyone like 
 you takes a bit of forgetting, darling, y'know. I say, 
 Fay, I can remember to-day how damn nervous I 
 felt waiting for you to come up the aisle ! It seemed 
 an age, I can tell you, and when you did come you 
 looked such a little kid, you made me feel shy, 
 almost frightened of you, as if I'd no right to have 
 you at all." 
 
 He sat up and lit a cigarette and gave it to 
 Francesca, then added, lighting his own : 
 
 " Y'know, darling, it seems pretty good to me to 
 sit like this with you ; as good as ten years ago in 
 one way. I say, you seem pretty silent, old lady; 
 anything up? " 
 
 Francesca gave a shaky little laugh : 
 
 " Nothing, parole d'honneur ; but you must allow 
 a wife to be touched by such an offering on the tenth
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 7 
 
 anniversary of her wedding day ! Some husbands, 
 my dear, instead of buying golden roses, are scan- 
 ning their passbooks to see if they can afford a 
 divorce by that time ! " 
 
 Bexford laughed. 
 
 "Only the wrong sort, old girl. Question of a 
 sense of values, or no sense, rather, in the begin- 
 ning." 
 
 He rose, and straightened his tie before the 
 mirror. 
 
 " I don't want to brag about my brilliance, Fay, 
 y'know, but you'll own I knew a good thing when 
 I saw it ! " 
 
 He strolled back to the bed and stood smiling 
 down at her. 
 
 " If you were thinking of getting up ? " 
 
 " Darling, at once. Call Mathilde for me, will 
 you, as you go out? Her door's the next but one on 
 the right. But, Tony, just a minute come here." 
 
 He turned back. 
 
 " No, here-r here-esf then ! " 
 
 He stood beside her again, a little mystified ; she 
 held out a hand to him. 
 
 " Kneel down, darling, you're so far away. And 
 don't look so frightened ; no one is going to do any- 
 thing to you ! Tony " 
 
 " Yes, old girl, what is it? " His puzzled eyes 
 met hers unwaveringly. 
 
 She drew his head suddenly close against her, 
 shoulder.
 
 8 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Tony, you have been so endlessly dear ; you say 
 you have said this morning things which have 
 reached my heart and, in a way, hurt it. No, don't 
 move, I don't mean hurt in one sense. It was your 
 last remark about values. Oh, darling, have you had 
 such a return ; don't you ever regret, ever think it's 
 rather rather hard luck when Charles comes with 
 the boys?" 
 
 Rexford forced up his head from under her 
 restraining hand. 
 
 " Now look here," he said strongly, " I do not, 
 never have 'thought/ as you call it, or regretted I 
 took you hunting that time. We both believed it 
 was all right, and the most tremendous bit of luck 
 of all my life was when the doctors told me you'd 
 live after the accident. Listen to me, Fay, and 
 believe this : a man doesn't care a damn about any- 
 thing but his wife when it's her life or anyone 
 else's in the question. The choice is certain, 
 inevitable, you simply don't choose; it's a fact, a 
 part of life, because she's a part of your own life. 
 As for Charles and the boys, I dunno I've ever seen 
 a boy much more of a sport than young Charles, 
 and if you labour under the delusion that I spend 
 my life longing for the unattainable, it may interest 
 you to learn, old girl, that I scarcely ever think 
 of it!" 
 
 He rose, picked up her white silk peignoir and 
 held it out.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 9 
 
 She slipped into it, and he stood for a moment 
 holding her so in his arms. 
 
 Then he released her. 
 
 "All right, now?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 He tightened his hold of her, laughing down at 
 her. 
 
 "Nothin' but a baby sometimes, are you, what? 
 Get a move on with your dressing now, won't you? 
 I'm off to buy some of those native cigarettes as an 
 experiment; they're like young cigars, and pretty 
 strong, I should think." 
 
 Francesca heard him go downstairs, pause for a 
 moment in the hall, then, from the window, she 
 watched him stroll down the uneven little street. 
 
 " Darling, darling liar," she whispered. 
 
 And to himself Kexf ord was saying : 
 
 " I did that thundering well ; she never had the 
 faintest notion I was bluffing ! And Fay's absolutely 
 one of the best. It's simply rough luck on us, that's 
 all, and it's no good grousing. Young Charles will 
 do the place credit, that's a comfort." 
 
 He thought, as he walked along, that Spain 
 seemed a country of which babies appeared to ap- 
 prove ; they swarmed on every doorstep ; each dusty 
 gutter was someone's royal kingdom. 
 
 A child toddled up to him, skilled already, at the 
 ripe age of three or four, in the art of appeal, and 
 begged urgently. 
 
 Kexford burst out laughing, gave the baby a
 
 10 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 peseta, and listened to a fluent flow of thanks. But 
 other babies had watched the luck of this favoured 
 pioneer; they made a bee-line for Rexford, and 
 whilst the unsteady clutched his trousers as a sup- 
 port, the older ones clung to his hands, and his ears 
 were assailed by torrential lisping. 
 
 " Well, I dunno ! " he said, smiling down at his 
 exigent adorers. " Here, catch, you infant pirates ! " 
 
 He flung a handful of small coins to them, 
 watched them scramble, of course compensated the 
 luckless, and then walked on in search of his 
 cigarettes. 
 
 He wondered, for the hundredth time, "what 
 Fay would say " to adopting a little kid for the fun 
 of the thing? and, facing the truth to himself, to 
 give life that interest which it lacked for him ; yet, 
 not for an instant would he have dreamt of hinting 
 at this idea. 
 
 It recurred again and again though, whilst he 
 loitered in the sunshine waiting for Francesca, and 
 watched the apparently endless families possessed 
 by every self-respecting Spaniard disporting them- 
 selves in the warm dust. 
 
 Some men are born with the protective instinct of 
 paternity ; it is sufficiently rare to find a man who 
 is not fond of children ; but there are men in whom 
 this feeling is a profound quality, and who stand in 
 a finer relationship to life by reason of this quality 
 than any other they possess. 
 
 In this category heredity and choice had placed
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 11 
 
 Rexford, and his inclusion made Mm a good land- 
 lord, a perfect uncle, and a chivalrous soul, and, as 
 well, deny the fact as he might, a dissatisfied man. 
 
 Paradoxically, the quality which spurred his 
 nature to discontent was the very one which pre- 
 vented his voicing that discontent, for that protec- 
 tiveness, which was one of the strongest tenets of 
 his creed, was naturally a keenest influence with 
 regard to* Francesca, and whatever joy a certain 
 course of action might afford Tony, he would never 
 mention it to Francesca, because he knew quite well 
 that it would hurt her, however she might dis- 
 semble to him. 
 
 He was not a particularly unselfish man ; simply 
 he loved his wife; she was his own. 
 
 She came down on to the veranda now and waved 
 to him with a white sunshade. 
 
 In the searching sunshine she looked about 
 twenty-four. In reality, she was thirty-four; but 
 she had that extremely English complexion which 
 seems neither to fade nor thicken, and that hair 
 which is like both ashes and gold, palely golden 
 hair. She had always been called beautiful; as a 
 matter of fact she was an extremely pretty woman, 
 who was very beautifully cared for ; a woman who 
 possessed the gift of appearance, and who would 
 have seemed chic had she been poor. She was slen- 
 der to the verge of thinness, and dressed, therefore, 
 ito add to the first effect and conceal the latter.
 
 12 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Kexford crossed to her and put up the white, 
 green-lined sunshade. 
 
 " I've ordered the car," Francesca told him, 
 pulling on loose wash-leather gloves. " We'll go to 
 the river, don't you think, and perhaps we might 
 get a bathe after lunch? I've had our suits packed." 
 
 " Oh, splendid," Kexford said. 
 
 The car came round as he spoke; a touring car 
 with the hood up because of the heat. 
 
 Kexford always drove himself ; motoring in every 
 detail was a passion with him; and one of which he 
 never tired. When he was not in one of his cars he 
 was probably about it, or under it, a pipe glued 
 between his teeth, and a hoarse, hissing noise 
 accompanying his labours; the car was always 
 alluded to with affection as " she," and " her " 
 actions and virtues occupied much space in Rex- 
 ford's conversation. The Spanish tour had been 
 partly (and most enjoyably) spent in tinkering up 
 the quite perfect Rolls each day after its trials and 
 tribulations over the worst roads probably in 
 Europe. 
 
 All Rexford's servants adored him. Carvel, the 
 chauffeur, who had, it was understood, passed in- 
 tricate examinations in motor-engineering, would 
 bridle with pleasure whenRexford argued with him, 
 quite wrongly, on some technical point, and mur- 
 mur: "Yes, my lord," for the sheer pleasure of 
 receiving his master's attention. 
 
 He settled in the back now whilst Rexford took
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 13 
 
 'the wheel, and after walking the car through the 
 village children, let it out on the Seville road. As 
 they rushed along Francesea noticed that the aloe 
 trees were in full flower ; they held themselves with 
 dauntless, upright splendour despite the menace of 
 the dust; occasionally a shrine was visible; one 
 shone out by reason of a wreath of orange blossom 
 some worshipper had placed upon the cross, where 
 it glowed in the white sunshine like a living crown 
 of stars. 
 
 Oxen-drawn carts, leisurely affairs which zig- 
 zagged about, trailed peacefully along the road, 
 their drivers refusing, with bovine obstinacy, to 
 hurry, in spite of Kexford's " free speech," the irate 
 Carvel's infuriated adjuration, and Francesca's 
 laughter. 
 
 " It's so nice to slow up, then one can really see 
 things," she explained to Eexford, whose face was 
 set in lines of resigned, yet savage irritation ; that 
 expression common to those true motorists who get 
 into a car for the purpose of getting out of it again 
 in the shortest possible space of time, and who 
 expect, nay demand, that any obstruction in their 
 road shall also " get out " likewise in record time. 
 To these ardent pace-makers the car, as a vehicle 
 for sight-seeing, for casual enjoyment of the sum- 
 mer breeze, simply is not. To them, to slow down is 
 a grievance; to stop, for any purpose save that of 
 arrival, anathema.
 
 14 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 The orchestra of Heaven might have played music 
 of exultant sweetness above the bonnet, but to such 
 a car-lover as Rexford, one rhythmic " purr " of a 
 " just-so " engine would have been far more beauti- 
 ful than any celestial strain, and the cries of the 
 tortured damned would have moved him far less 
 than one squeak from a nut which needed oil. 
 
 Francesca, aware of this outlook, made no effort 
 to oppose it; she knew better than to distract an 
 absorbed mind by any allusion to the beauty of 
 Nature, or to show a desire to discuss any topic 
 save the " going " of the car. 
 
 Upon their arrival at Barazio, and when he had 
 made a preliminary but searching inspection of the 
 car, Tony would again become his usual pleasant 
 self. After he had, in all probability, delivered a 
 spirited and abstruse monologue on the good be- 
 haviour of the car as evidenced by the drive, touched 
 lightly on any feat of steering afforded him by the 
 obstructive and accursed traffic, and generally given 
 a technical word sketch of the engine's prowess at 
 every milestone of the road, he would ask Fran- 
 cesca if she had not enjoyed the country through 
 which they had passed. This, save for isolated 
 moments when a goat, an ox, or any two-footed, 
 equally infamous idiot (bent, apparently, upon 
 speedy suicide) had held up their progress, had 
 been to Francesca, by reason of the amazing speed, 
 merely an indistinguishable blur of dust, and green- 
 and-yellow patches, which custom and instinct had
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 15 
 
 helped her to recognize as fields, and which (having 
 .due regard to the obligations of matrimony) she 
 had accepted as a "view," and would then dilate 
 [upon as "charming scenery " to Tony. 
 
 To-day proved no exception to the rule : Tony got 
 |out, helped Francesca, and instantly bent over the 
 car in an attitude which displayed at once the 
 excellent fit of his suit, and enabled him to peer into 
 the recesses of the engine; Carvel hovered about 
 him, and both men murmured darkly to one another. 
 
 Francesca strolled into the hotel, a little inn-like 
 place, with the same vine-covered veranda and pink 
 walls and little stained tables as the Pago place, 
 and ordered luncheon, and in due course Tony 
 joined her, clamouring as usual for a wash, a drink, 
 and his food. 
 
 He came back to the veranda very shortly, 
 favoured Francesca with his views on the drive, as 
 per schedule, and then, having filled his glass, asked 
 heartily : 
 
 " Enjoyed it, old girl? Like the scenery? " 
 
 Francesca mentioned the aloe trees, the dust, the 
 shrine, and Tony grunted appreciably. When he 
 had finished an excellent lunch, he suggested, the 
 car being now housed in a shed and its rest guarded 
 by the faithful Carvel, that they should " look over " 
 the place before driving out to the river for their 
 swim. 
 
 They strolled together down the main street, both
 
 16 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 \ 
 
 smoking cigarettes, Francesca's hand linked in 
 Tony's elbow. 
 
 The street was silent, ice-cool, sun-hot, as the 
 houses let in the light or obstructed it. Like so many 
 Cordovan towns, the place gave a strange impres- 
 sion of aloofness, of chill, half -contemptuous indif- 
 ference to modernity and its claims. 
 
 These towns seem never to lose entirely the effect 
 of their ancient Eastern rule a rule at once more 
 subtle and more ruthless than any other; it seems 
 as if a faint imprint of that sinister influence still 
 lingers; there are still echoes of savage, stifled 
 feuds, smothered cries, inexorable yet hidden tyran- 
 nies, trifling yet significant echoes of the centuries- 
 dead omnipotence. 
 
 " Rum old place," Tony said, as halting before the 
 church of San Pablo he stared up at it gravely, 
 shutting his eyes for an instant against the dazzling 
 effect made by the sunshine striking the black and 
 white tiles of the roof. 
 
 " Let's go in," Francesca said suddenly. 
 
 " All right." 
 
 They threw away their cigarettes, and Tony 
 pushed open a small door; before it there hung a 
 heavy leather curtain, and as he held it for Fran- 
 cesca to pass in, it seemed to her as if a visible cool 
 peace met her gently. 
 
 She sat just inside the church and Tony stood 
 behind her. 
 
 The sun was pouring through one small window,
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 17 
 
 and its spear of goldenness was thick inset with 
 gorgeous green and scarlet and purple jewels from 
 the coloured glass. 
 
 No one was in the church save their two selves ; 
 it was very, very dark and chill and austere, and 
 yet, it seemed to Prancesca, kindly. 
 
 Near by was an altar to the Virgin, and Fran- 
 cesca deciphered the words engraved on the stone 
 railing, behind which the candles burnt high and 
 clear in the still air : " For those we love." 
 
 She slipped a hand into Tony's pocket and took 
 out some money and went across to the little shrine 
 and bought candles and lit them. 
 
 Tony watched her; like every other man of his 
 type he did not " think much about religion " ; 
 indeed it is probable he never deliberately thought 
 of it, but he believed in it nevertheless ; he classed it 
 inevitably in his mind with the stability of the 
 Empire to which he had the honour to belong, and 
 all enduring " country " things the soil, freshness 
 and rain. 
 
 But, for one instant, his eyes on Francesca's bent, 
 slender form, the faint mist of goldenness visible 
 beneath her hat, imagery touched his mind. 
 
 He went forward and knelt beside her, remem- 
 bering indistinctly, and yet rather poignantly, their 
 marriage, the child's death, their home, their life 
 together. 
 
 Francesca smiled at him, and he put an arm 
 about her and drew her up.
 
 18 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Out in the sunshine, back to normality again, he 
 gave a quick sigh; he was grateful for normality 
 and the sunshine and the lizard strolling, for once, 
 in Francesea's direction. 
 
 " Let's get a move on, shall we? " he asked. 
 
 He glanced at Francesca as he walked beside her ; 
 the day had held one or two pretty "stiff" mo- 
 ments, their talk that morning, then this church 
 business. He said : 
 
 " I say, Fay, we shall have to celebrate to-night, 
 y'know. Get some decent champagne from some- 
 where, and you must tog up, old girl, do your 
 damnedest ! " 
 
 Francesca understood exactly why he seemed 
 rather more robustly ordinary than usual; she 
 agreed to his suggestions gaily, and by the time 
 they reached the inn, Tony had lost his sense of 
 "little shadows," as she had fully meant he 
 should do. 
 
 They raced off again, of course, this time in the 
 direction of the river, which, at the pace they went, 
 they reached most speedily. 
 
 It glittered gorgeously before them, shining like 
 a chain of emeralds set in silver. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, the bank afforded no 
 shelter at all, though they ran along it for some 
 miles ; then, in the distance, a rough tent appeared. 
 
 " That'll do," Tony said, " we'll pay 'em to let 
 us use it." 
 
 But "upon arrival the tent proved to be empty,
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 19 
 
 though a litter of household things, and a string of 
 washing outside, testified to the fact it had been 
 occupied that morning. 
 
 Tony peered in. 
 
 " It's all right," he said, withdrawing his head ; 
 " bit of a frowst, but you needn't be in there long. 
 Cut on in now, and if anyone turns up before you're 
 ready, I'll speak 'em fair." 
 
 Francesca slid out of her clothes very swiftly, and 
 into her bathing suit; she stepped on to the sand, 
 which struck hot through her sandals just as Tony 
 plunged into the water and shouted to her that it 
 was " topping icy cold ripping." 
 
 He swam magnificently ; he was already far down 
 stream by the time Francesca had made a dozen 
 strokes. 
 
 A bridge, a rough stone affair, low bending, un- 
 even, crossed the river a few hundred yards away. 
 Fony had nearly reached it when Francesca heard 
 him shout and saw him dive, come up, and dive 
 again; and then she saw, on the bridge, rocking 
 herself in frenzy of emotion, a woman, and a mo- 
 ment later (the whole episode was one of two 
 minutes perhaps), Tony reappeared, his fair head 
 close to another smaller head, swimming over hand, 
 and making for the bank. 
 
 Francesca swam in too, and ran towards him, 
 catching up her bathing wrap as she ran. 
 
 Tony was already on his knees beside a child, a 
 mere baby of two or three, and was attempting arti-
 
 20 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 ficial respiration; Francesca knew the movements; 
 she, too, knelt down, and helped to work the tiny 
 arms; she was conscious, as the blinding sunshine 
 fastened on her back like a blister, of an incessant 
 noise, and once she looked up and saw the baby's 
 mother weeping uncontrollably, and between her 
 sobs imploring each saint by name to save her little 
 one, and a youth expostulating, swearing, sobbing, 
 too standing beside her. 
 
 " Not much rgood 'f raid " Tony gasped at 
 
 last, straightening up a little, and thrusting back 
 the hair from his forehead. "Bad luck indeed 
 hoped we'd save the poor little beggar ! " 
 
 And just then the baby opened the greenest eyes 
 Prancesca had ever seen, and smiled deliberately at 
 Tony, meeting his glance with a sort of steady 
 delight, seeming by that radiant smile to acknowl- 
 edge his help and make further claim on him in one. 
 
 Tony sat back and roared with laughter, and 
 Francesca bent over the baby and worked on it 
 again until it protested unsmilingly and vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 The parents came forward and burst into ecstatic 
 thanks, to which Tony mumbled self-consciously: 
 "All right all right!" 
 
 His voice seemed to have a restraining influence 
 on the baby, which had been crying stormily in its 
 mother's arms; it stopped as he spoke, and again 
 that gorgeous green-eyed smile appeared, made 
 specially for Tony, smiled only at Tony.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 21 
 
 " You rum little devil ! " he said to it. And to 
 Fay: " I say, it's rather a jolly baby, what? " 
 
 " She recognizes her rescuer ; she knows you, any- 
 way, Tony," Francesca answered. 
 
 " Do you know, I believe she does," Tony said. 
 " What's her name? " he asked the mother. 
 
 " Dolores Juana, senor." 
 
 " Is it, by Jove ! Well " he advanced and lifted 
 one tiny hand "well, Dolores Juana, here's to a 
 future meeting." 
 
 The mother urged him with a languishing glance, 
 and Dolores played her trump card she smiled. 
 
 Tony, grinning a little, kissed her. 
 
 Of course Francesca had seen him kiss children 
 before, as men do kiss them, rather solemnly, and 
 with a countenance expressive of relief, when the 
 deed is well accomplished; but somehow, seeing 
 Tony looking as he looked at the moment, absurdly 
 boyish, with his hair still ruffled from the water, and 
 clad in his bathing suit, an indescribable sensation 
 stirred in her heart; it was as if something had 
 closed down on it, and, holding it captive, forced it 
 forward to accept a realization. In that instant, 
 (without quite knowing that she did so, yet aware 
 f its advent in her mind, she presaged the future. 
 All that happened after that golden afternoon was 
 ibut a fulfilment of that first intuition. 
 
 The sway exercised by that sixth sense faded 
 quickly; Francesca bade farewell to the mother, 
 kissed the baby too, Tony plunged into the river and
 
 22 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 swam to the car; in half an- hour they were ready. 
 As Francesca turned to leave the tent, the habitual 
 dwelling-place, it appeared, of the parents of Do- 
 lores Juana, she heard Tony's voice in obvious con- 
 verse with the lady of the smile herself. His con- 
 versation consisted of alternate " Hullo's ! " and 
 "Bum little devil's," with laughter at frequent 
 intervals, overtures to friendship much appreciated 
 by the baby, apparently, since Francesca could hear 
 a funny little chuckle, and when she went out of 
 the tent, found Dolores Juana seated comfortably 
 on Tony's knee, gripping the lapel of his blazer and 
 nearly asleep. 
 
 Her eyes closed as Francesca appeared; Tony 
 looked up with an expression of amused ques- 
 tioning. 
 
 " Eather done me this time," he whispered. 
 
 Francesca stood above the two of them, and again 
 that bitter contraction of her heart made her wince. 
 
 " Oh, don't bother," she said, in a voice she forced 
 to be light ; " I'll call the mother. We'll start for 
 home, I think. It's been rather a strenuous after- 
 noon, hasn't it? " 
 
 She was sickeningly aware that Tony's seraphic 
 expression changed to one of apologetic anxiety; 
 he rose to his feet instantly, holding the baby as 
 carefully as he could and walked towards the 
 mother, and gave it into her arms. 
 
 The girl curtsied and broke into a torrent of
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 23 
 
 exaggerated gratitude, but the young husband 
 scowled. 
 
 Francesca called : " I'm ready, Tony ! " Carvel 
 brought the car nearer. 
 
 Tony thrust a hand into a pocket and drew out a 
 note. He pushed it very gently into the baby's hand. 
 
 " You get her something," he said to the mother. 
 " Good-bye." 
 
 The father, softened by the contemplation of 
 Tony's gift, asked with the ready effusion of the 
 skilled idler, to whom pleasantness is an asset: 
 " The senor is of course a father? One sees how 
 he loves children ! " 
 
 Francesca heard Tony say : " No, I have no chil- 
 dren." And instantly the mother of Dolores broke 
 into a torrent of commiseration, checked suddenly 
 by the inspiration that " the senor and his lovely 
 senora might perhaps be on their honeymoon ! " 
 
 Tony's confession of the actual celebration of the 
 day brought a murmur of wonder, of concern ; it all 
 seemed to Francesca grotesquely arch, and yet 
 painful. 
 
 Then, distinctly, she heard the young man say : 
 
 " The senor should adopt a little one." And at 
 once Tony's head veered round a little way in Fran- 
 cesca's direction ; she could see his face and the dark 
 smiling face of the other man and Dolores Juana 
 smiling. 
 
 Tony was speaking; she could not hear what he 
 said, but she knew oh ! she knew !
 
 24 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He was suggesting that of course Dolores such 
 a baby could not be parted with ; then, afraid of his 
 daring, he would retreat. 
 
 He did ; he came towards her now, his face a little 
 flushed, a little self-conscious. 
 
 " Time we were moving. Sorry I kept you. Those 
 peasants were talking to me. Mce woman, the 
 mother. They must marry precious young here; 
 they've six children already, besides that baby, and 
 she only looks about twenty ! " 
 
 He busied himself with the car for a moment, 
 gave Francesca his hand, and climbed into the driv- 
 ing seat over the wheel. 
 
 He drove back in silence, a not unusual event; 
 but, on arriving at the hotel, he did not, which was 
 most unusual, go with Carvel into the barn which 
 served as a garage and proceed to spend a pleasant 
 hour overhauling a perfect machine; instead he 
 lounged for a little while on the veranda, then went 
 up to Francesca's room. 
 
 " Can I come in and smoke for a bit? " he asked. 
 
 Francesca was having her hair done; she dis- 
 missed Mathilde with a smile, and Tony subsided 
 into a wicker chair beside the dressing-table and 
 began to fidget with Francesca's manicure case, the 
 tops of her scent bottles. 
 
 Francesca went on combing her hair ; it lay like 
 pale-gold silk wave, outspread upon one shoulder; 
 from under her lashes, as she combed, she studied
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 25 
 
 Tony's rather heavy face, her fingers gripped the 
 frail comb with sudden intensity. 
 
 Oh heavens ! were all men this mixture of defence- 
 less childishness, a sort of thick and yet rather 
 pathetic obstinacy, and, as well, such decent nice- 
 ness, a niceness which, despite its humdrumness, in 
 spite of its usualness, yet had something rather 
 splendid about it, combining, as it did, fidelity and 
 chivalry were all men beings who harrowed one's 
 feelings and made one, when a safe course of action 
 had been chosen in one's innermost mind, yet see 
 beyond that safety a way which, for oneself, held 
 neither safety nor ease, and upon which, neverthe- 
 less, the feet of another would be set as surely and 
 steadily? 
 
 She gave a sigh, and Tony ceased twisting a gold 
 stopper round and round, thus permanently loosen- 
 ing its hold, and looked up. 
 
 "Hullo! Tired?" he asked. He added slowly, 
 staring rather intently at Francesca, obviously 
 wishful, however, to please: "Topping your hair 
 looks!" 
 
 Francesca murmured of motoring dust, no decent 
 hairdresser available; a silence fell. 
 
 Tony began to turn the stopper round again ; it 
 squeaked a little at his ministrations, and that 
 almost inaudible squeak raised a sort of stifled fury 
 in Francesca; she longed to take the scent-bottle 
 away from those big hands and bang it down and 
 smash it, and demand : " Why don't you say what
 
 26 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 you want to? Why do you force me, by your con- 
 sideration for me, to give expression to the words 
 I ache not to say which you make me say because 
 you are so decent? You spare me, and that I can- 
 not bear " 
 
 In the silence, the choked little fountain, which 
 played in what the hotel termed its court-yard, 
 could be heard, a bird called sleepily, the sky was 
 a riot of sunset loveliness, all the flowers of summer 
 seemed piled there, and as the clouds drifted apart 
 revealing the tender, luminous dark blueness of the 
 early evening, it was as though countless flowers 
 dropped petals as they faded. 
 
 Tony fidgeted again ; Mathilde knocked, and came 
 in with a dress over her arm, which she spread upon 
 the bed in all its frail glory. 
 
 " Hullo ! " Tony said. 
 
 " It's my damnedest," Francesca said. " You 
 remember you told me to do my damnedest 
 Voila!" 
 
 They both laughed; Mathilde, with that rare 
 glance of happiness a really good maid bestows on 
 a really good mistress, evincing approval and satis- 
 faction, not utterly uninfluenced by the presence of 
 the master, went out. 
 
 Silence again. 
 
 Francesca felt her heart begin to beat rather fast 
 as she waited ; she said at last, a little tremulously : 
 
 " Darling, what is it? "
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 27 
 
 She leant forward; she had finished doing her 
 hair, she held out a hand to Tony. 
 
 " What's what? " he asked defensively. 
 
 Francesca forced a little laugh. 
 
 " Tony, of what are you thinking? " 
 
 "At that moment I happened to be thinking of 
 that kid Dolores. Lucky we were in the river 
 to-day." 
 
 He rose and stretched. 
 
 " I'll go and change, and I must have a look at the 
 cellar with Monsieur le patron ; this is a celebration 
 dinner ! " 7 
 
 It was at least celebrated by excellent wine ; and 
 the good Mathilde, when she had finished Francesca, 
 had exclaimed at the beauty of " miladi," but never- 
 theless, the dinner lacked gaiety. 
 
 And after dinner irony of fate the waiter came 
 to tell them two gypsies were going to sing on the 
 veranda that night; their Excellencies would be 
 there to enjoy it? 
 
 Of course the gypsies were the father and mother 
 of Dolores, and of course she slept beside them 
 whilst they sang and played. 
 
 Tony's listlessness had vanished ; he went out and 
 talked with them, and bent over Dolores, who slept 
 on. Francesca could hear the man Pedro talking of 
 poverty, his big family, the hardships they all 
 endured. . . . 
 
 She called to Tony that she was going up ; it was
 
 28 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 still early, but she felt tired out by the strain of 
 those last hours. 
 
 In her room she sat in darkness by the window, 
 the sound of the guitar came to her faintly and the 
 echo of Pedro's voice young, ardent, gay as he 
 sang to its music. 
 
 It was a perfect night, a night of radiant stars 
 and deep, soft darkness, of a thousand perfumes, 
 and a cool, little wind to carry them about like 
 invisible, enchanting flowers. 
 
 The loveliness made Francesca wince inwardly; 
 it intensified by its contrast with her own outlook, 
 the sadness in her heart ; loveliness was for happy 
 people, people at peace with their world. 
 
 And she was so far from that, and near only in 
 this moment to suffering and struggle. She could 
 not urge Tony to adopt this child despite the dumb 
 appeal of his eyes, the " waiting " which she sensed 
 in his attitude ; she could not. 
 
 And then, perversely, quite suddenly, she encour- 
 aged the false note : " Perhaps Tony did not really 
 care, was not genuinely interested? " 
 
 She clasped her hands together^ so closely that the 
 rings bruised her fingers. 
 
 It would mean a change in their life together ; it 
 would mean a severance and she could be, she 
 knew, jealous of Tony. 
 
 She would be she met the acknowledgment with 
 a faint flush and a quick stab of the heart. For her 
 jealousy would not be so much for herself, in direct
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 29 
 
 connexion with Tony's love for her, his dependence 
 on her for his happiness, as it would be for that 
 undying memory they shared, which their love for 
 each other had first called into being. 
 
 Oh, how could, how could he want this child 
 when he remembered? 
 
 And before her mental gaze there rose the vision 
 of Tony and herself. He had come in and found her, 
 when she had just got better, and had been up for 
 the first time, kneeling beside the box of lovely tiny 
 clothes, and he had knelt down beside her and 
 gathered her up in Ms arms and kissed away her 
 tears. 
 
 How could he want to do this thing? 
 
 And how easily men forgot ! What a little while 
 they suffered, really! 
 
 The tears Tony had kissed away seemed to have 
 returned to her keeping now, and they fell in her 
 heart. Below in the scented darkness the vapid yet 
 pretty notes of the guitar still sounded ; Pedro still 
 sang of love and sorrow in the voice of youth. 
 
 Francesca got up and began to walk about the 
 room. What an impossible situation it was, really ! 
 And it had risen in one half-hour, from a half- 
 careless remark, from sheer chance. And it would 
 alter their lives irrevocably. 
 
 The door opened gently ; Tony looked in. 
 
 "Hullo! Not asleep?" 
 
 " No, I can't sleep." 
 
 He crossed to her.
 
 30 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Anything wrong? " 
 
 Francesca answered with another question: 
 
 " Have the gypsies gone? " 
 
 "Oh yes, rather at least, the mother and our 
 rescue, Senorita Dolores Juana they've gone. 
 Pedro, the father's still doing his stunt." 
 
 " You didn't stay when the others left? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 He wandered about irresolutely ; a big, solid, well- 
 shaped being in the dimness, the outline of his 
 shoulders clearly cut against the window space as 
 he stood there, looking out. 
 
 His very silence seemed irritatingly dear at this 
 moment, expressing, as it seemed to do, strength, 
 and yet making Francesca intensely aware of the 
 futility of strength at such a juncture. 
 
 The idea came to her that if Tony simply turned 
 round and said, as he would say in his speech : 
 
 "... Look here, old girl! I want to have that 
 kid ; I think it's the jolliest little beggar, and I vote 
 we go down and fix it all to-morrow." . . . that she 
 would feel it all so much easier; his directness 
 would cut away so much of that growth in her soul 
 which she felt to be morbid concerning this matter. 
 
 But Tony said nothing; and at last, going to him 
 and slipping a hand into his, Francesca said : 
 
 " Did Maria and Pedro discuss our taking their 
 baby from them, adopting her, by any chance? " 
 
 " Oh, I dunno ! They talk a lot, those sort of 
 people, y'know. Perhaps they don't mean half of it !
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 31 
 
 Giving up a child isn't a very light sort of thing to 
 settle about in five minutes." 
 
 " No, I know, darling, but supposing they do 
 consent why shouldn't we? " 
 
 She felt him start; his voice was troubled yet 
 eager, as he said : 
 
 "Look here what d'you really feel about it, 
 Fay? What 'ud you really like? I don't mind say- 
 ing I was rather taken with the little kid and then 
 rescuing her and all that saving her life. I sup- 
 pose that gives one a feeling of a bit of a claim, but 
 I don't want anything you don't absolutely agree to. 
 It rests with you I we " 
 
 He stopped irresolutely, and there was a little 
 silence. 
 
 " I know," Francesca said, " you did rescue her, 
 as you say, and if these peasants are really anxious 
 to be rid of the poor little thing if you really feel 
 you would like to do this, if you would be happy 
 about it " 
 
 Her voice trailed off; she could not go on speak- 
 ing just then; the effort to make it all as easy as 
 possible for Tony had cost her her self-control. 
 
 Tony did not notice ; he began to discuss the affair 
 carefully and thoroughly, showing thereby how 
 much thought he had already given to it. 
 
 Francesca listened. 
 
 How right she had been, how deadly right ! 
 
 She listened and suggested as Tony elaborated 
 his idea ; outside it had grown very still. Pedro had
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 one, the hotel was at peace for the night ; suddenly, 
 in the silence, a bird called, waking from its sleep ; 
 another brief silence, then the tender, anxious call 
 came again. 
 
 It seemed to Francesca like a whisper from the 
 night ten years before, calling, calling to her heart 
 to answer. 
 
 She forgot to listen to Tony; she could only re- 
 member that on that other evening, in the ivy 
 outside the house where they had gone on their 
 wedding-day, a bird had stirred and called. She 
 had been waiting for Tony to come to her, and in 
 this hour she could recall how, at the faint sound 
 of the thrush stirring in the leaves, she had started, 
 and how madly her heart had beaten, supposing it 
 to be Tony. 
 
 She had leant far out of the window, looking 
 deep into the ivy, and the scent, it had seemed to 
 her, of surely the most wonderful roses in all the 
 world had drifted up to her. 
 
 And she had been drawn back into Tony's arms ; 
 he had been waiting behind her. 
 
 Together they had stood, his arms about her, 
 looking together into the loveliness of the night a 
 night like this one as fair, as wonderfully, in- 
 timately dark ; but then Tony had kissed and kissed 
 her hair as she had leant back against him, and he 
 had called it, in a passionate whisper, a " perfumed 
 crown " " darling, heavenly stuff to kiss ! "
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 33 
 
 Ten years before. 
 
 His voice broke through her memories. 
 
 " It's up to you, you must decide." 
 
 She caught his hand in hers. 
 
 "Tony, d'you remember this night ten years 
 ago? " 
 
 " Of course I do," he said quietly. 
 
 " It was all rather wonderful, wasn't it? It's 
 rather rather a pity, isn't it (how people would 
 scoff at me for being sentimental, if they knew) , but 
 it's rather tragic, don't you think, that all that 
 wonderfulness goes so soon and is forgotten? " 
 
 " It's not forgotten," Tony said, " only things 
 replace it's that, I think they grow. I dunno, I 
 can't put things much, as you know, but it seems to 
 me that, though marriage is pretty wonderful and 
 all that, just living together day by day, and feeling 
 life's good because you do, is wonderful, too. Stacks 
 of times I look at you and feel proud of you, or glad 
 about you, or a dozen other things, because you're 
 my wife and you love me. That seems pretty good 
 to me, too." 
 
 " Oh, Tony ! " Francesca whispered. She drew 
 his arm around her and leant her head back against 
 his shoulder. 
 
 He kissed her hair. 
 
 " How ripping it smells, Fay. What stuff d'you 
 put on it? " 
 
 " Oh, scent. I forget what it's called. Tony, I 
 love you."
 
 [34 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He gave a deep sigh above her bent head. Fran- 
 cesca waited a moment, then went on speaking 
 swiftly. 
 
 " And, Tony, I think I mean I have decided, and 
 I want us to give one another Dolores for a tenth 
 wedding present. Don't you think it's rather a 
 lovely idea? " 
 
 She was trying to smile in the darkness; the effort 
 was visible in her voice. 
 
 Tony's arm tightened about her. 
 
 " Fay, d'you mean it? " 
 
 And without waiting for her assurance, he hur- 
 ried on : 
 
 " You don't mind you're sure? " 
 
 She had known he must ask that question; she 
 said quickly : 
 
 " Darling, no." 
 
 He released her and seemed to square back his 
 shoulders; the decision had been given, suspense 
 was over; confession waited on relief. 
 
 " I've thought of it often before," he said slowly, 
 " but I was afraid I mean I thought you'd be so 
 hurt, perhaps. Shows how little one ever knows 
 about anyone else, what? For look at us now! " 
 
 " Yes, look at us now," Francesca echoed. 
 
 A clock chimed far away ; the notes fell softly and 
 clearly into the stillness. 
 
 " Getting late," Tony murmured. 
 
 " You'll have to maid me," Francesca said. Life 
 had returned to extreme normality; the sacrifice
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 35 
 
 had been made and never realized; things were 
 " going on " as usual, that chief necessity for the 
 average man. 
 
 Tony fumbled with the hooks of the white and 
 silver dress, cursing in a quiet, absorbed way under 
 his breath ; at last he had finished his labours, and 
 he heaved a portentous sigh of gratitude. 
 
 " I'll cut off now shan't be long. Feel a bit tired 
 to-night ! " 
 
 He vanished into his own room, and Francesca 
 could hear the sound of much running water and 
 brushes in mutual operation; then Tony reap- 
 peared, looking very clean and sleepy. 
 
 " Rather a great day? " he asked. " It's not every 
 five minutes or every anniversary of one's wedding- 
 day one adopts a baby ! I say, we ought to make this 
 her birthday with us. Bather a scheme. Sleepy, old 
 lady? " 
 
 Perhaps Francesca's answer was so gentle, it 
 seemed sad ; perhaps, dimly, a very faint glimmer- 
 ing of the fact that such a thing as hurtness existed 
 in the world came to Tony. Of course Fay had said 
 everything was all right, so of course it was; still, 
 women were rather rum, difficult to get at. ... Per- 
 haps Fay had been remembering, poor little darling! 
 
 He slid an arm about his beautiful wife. 
 
 " Happy, aren't you, darling? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 She stroked his thick mat of hair, released from 
 its durance vile of extreme tidiness during the day.
 
 36 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " What made you ask? " 
 
 " Oh, I dunno. It's the end of our anniversary, 
 after all." 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 He waited. Francesca did not speak again; she 
 was tired, of course ; it had been a long day. 
 
 He freed his arm. 
 
 " Good night, old girl." 
 
 " Good night, darling." 
 
 When he was quite asleep, beyond the power of 
 disturbance, Francesca got up and knelt beside the 
 window. 
 
 An extraordinary vivid kaleidoscope of her life 
 and Tony's since their marriage flashed before her 
 as she knelt . . . the usual gay, full, interested life 
 of their set. . . . Tony and she had raced and 
 hunted, danced and visited; he had seemed so 
 " complete " in his outlook, so serenely pleased, con- 
 tent, and, all the while, behind his apparently happy 
 occupation, there had been this secret overshadow- 
 ing thought, this innermost hope of which she had 
 known nothing, which Tony had felt to be too sacred 
 to tell her, or had trusted her love for him so little, 
 he had not risked doing so. 
 
 Perhaps that hurt in this hour more than the ful- 
 filment of his longing made possible by her sacrifice ; 
 at least, there, her action had bound them closer, 
 but Tony's silence a silence of years, a cherished 
 growth of his very soul, guarded so jealously had 
 wounded her deeply. She realized, staring out into
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 37 
 
 the soft night, how very, very little, in the end, one 
 human being knew of another, how endlessly lonely 
 even the closest lives were; it was possible, and 
 therein lay a deadening irony, to share a man's life, 
 his every action almost, his every interest, to live 
 with him as himself, bound by a genuine love on 
 either side, and yet know him so little that a funda- 
 mental outlook on a matter of most vital importance 
 could be held by him without his desire to share it. 
 
 And again that stark wonder which the discovery 
 of any distinctive, new quality in the character of 
 those we love can wake in us, swept over Francesca. 
 
 She was afraid of this loneliness of herself, which 
 seemed so suddenly to have been made visible to her 
 by Tony's silence, and again by the quick, jerky 
 confession he had poured out to her and so much, 
 oh ! so much, by the advent of Dolores. 
 
 She felt, on this point, an indescribable emotion, 
 which held jealousy and nobility and dread, and 
 longing and bitterness and an infinite sorrow in its 
 depths ; she knew, she had known, even in that fleet- 
 ing exultation which a sacrifice made for someone 
 you love wakes in you, that she would suffer watch- 
 ing Tony with Dolores, that her loveliest and most 
 poignant memory would be changed into bitterness 
 now, and that yet she would want Tony to be happy. 
 It amazed her, too, to find how little her boasted, 
 casual acceptance of the inevitable, a tenet of her 
 creed, availed her now in the first real trial of her 
 life; her gay cynicism fell from her like a useless,
 
 38 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 too frail wrap, swept away by a tempest, her slogan : 
 
 " Oh, of course one accepts the things one must ; 
 it's the easiest and wisest thing to do ! " seemed a 
 string of cheap and foolish words; one did not 
 accept wisely or easily, because pain, resentment, 
 were both futile. 
 
 The dawn was breaking in the east, a spear of 
 pearl cut between the bars of darkling violet, the 
 winding, uneven street became dimly visible, the 
 new day had come. 
 
 Francesca rose wearily, and went to the dressing-! 
 table to spray her hands ; she caught a pale glimpse! 
 of herself in the mirror. 
 
 Had it been only yesterday she had seemed so] 
 young, so one with golden life and golden roses? 
 
 They bloomed now, whitely, in a tall vase beside 
 her. 
 
 She looked at them with the first tears which had' 
 come to her shining in her eyes.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 " Le coeur a des raisons que la raison ne connait pas." 
 
 WITHIN a week Dolores Juana Estival, aged 
 two years and one month, a member of the 
 Holy Roman Church, and a citizeness of 
 the Spanish kingdom, had become the legal posses- 
 sion of Tony and Francesca, and the parents of 
 Dolores Juana had become the legal possessors of a 
 portable bank, and felt themselves to be happily 
 free from an encumbrance. 
 
 Dolores accepted the change in her life and sur- 
 roundings philosophically; she left the parental 
 tent seated between Tony and Francesca ; and Tony, 
 Francesca noted with a little, bleak smile, drove 
 very slowly in order that Dolores might see all that 
 there was to be seen in the way of passers-by, or 
 flowering trees, or oxen. 
 
 Francesca could have cursed and cried, laughed 
 and derided as she sat in infinite loneliness that 
 sunlit afternoon and watched Tony's patience, his 
 unaffected pleasure in Dolores' unsteady but so 
 attractive "walk," her solemn wonder at finding 
 herself defeated by the ground she had a moment 
 before trampled upon in triumph. He had gone 
 with Francesca to engage a nurse, and he had talked 
 
 39
 
 40 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 with her in his bad, vigorous Spanish about Dolores, 
 laughing at his mistakes, but nevertheless, manag- 
 ing to drive homeiany point he wished to emphasize. 
 
 As he talked, Francesca had marvelled, for he 
 knew his subject; and again, at that realization, a 
 sword had turned in her heart. 
 
 Dolores, her curls brushed and bobbing every 
 moment, her cheeks carnation-pink with excite- 
 ment, her green eyes like clear pools lit by sheer 
 sunshine, danced on Tony's knee, her short, fluffy 
 skirts billowing out like tiny, white waves about 
 her. 
 
 The car had been requisitioned for days for her 
 shopping; Tony had contributed a pair of emerald 
 green shoes, and a little jade necklace. 
 
 " I never knew you had 'such decorative in- 
 stincts ! " Francesca told him. 
 
 " I haven't ; Doro has such green eyes, that's all," 
 he said with a grin. 
 
 He had chosen " Doro " as a name, and Emilia, 
 the nurse, and Francesca had received this ulti- 
 matum with quiescence. 
 
 At any rate, Francesca owned to herself, Doro 
 paid for dressing, for the meticulous care to which 
 she was now subjected ; she was a really lovely thing 
 and, as Tony constantly repeated, "When she 
 smiles! ..." Imagination was left to cope with 
 a marvel so enchanting ! 
 
 As if she understood, Doro kept the smile almost
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 41 
 
 exclusively for Tony ; Tony was her god, and sky, 
 her need and dream. 
 
 She said his name first, her only English word ; 
 she knew his voice, his step, and she swarmed up 
 him the moment he sat down, clutching a flannelled 
 knee in deadly seriousness, whilst she stood with 
 both emerald shod feet on one of Tony's, and pulled 
 herself higher till she stood upright, gripping the 
 lapels of his coat, her face near to his, the enchant- 
 ing smile breaking out at the glorious triumph of 
 her progress. 
 
 And Tony would say under his breath : 
 " You little ripper, you stunning little kid ! " 
 He did not lavish many endearments on Doro in 
 Francesca's hearing; he might be " thick," "heavy," 
 as has been stated, but if he was also (as had been!, 
 hinted by Francesca's friends) " one-ideaed," some- 
 times that single instance of imagination was 
 extremely tactful; Francesca and he had never 
 discussed the question of her affection for Doro, yet, 
 though Francesca had been entirely sweet about 
 getting the child things, seeing to her welfare, and 
 though she called her " Darling," Tony knew that 
 an imitative effort on his part would not be wel- 
 come. So Doro remained unendeared in public, and 
 Tony made up for it, when he could, in private. 
 
 He had few chances; Francesca was generally 
 present, but he had one amazing gorgeous after- 
 noon when he drove Doro out alone in the car,
 
 42 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 whilst Francesca disposed, if she could, of a head- 
 ache, and encouraged a siesta. 
 
 Emilia pleaded to go ; not that she loved the car, 
 but that she loved Dolores ; the car, in an access of 
 self-abandonment, she had termed " a machine of 
 the evil one," having driven in it when Tony had 
 felt inclined to pace, and having never forgotten 
 that memorable and devastating experience. 
 
 The mere idea of her beloved baby driving forth 
 to certain danger, to her probable death, in Emilia's 
 opinion, was not to be endured without violent 
 protest. 
 
 But Tony was adamant, and at last, having be- 
 sought every saint she could remember to keep an 
 eye on her baby and avert the evil eye from the car, 
 Emilia watched the Kolls disappear in a cloud of 
 dust, and returned to a broken siesta on the veranda, 
 where, luckily, Miguel, the first waiter, was also 
 resting from his labours, and could help to beguile 
 sorrow from the mind by means of picked tunes 
 played upon the mandolin and accompanied by 
 glances, long, expressive and love-lorn. 
 
 Tony and Dolores meanwhile drove together in 
 easy silence ; Dolores had on a white muslin dress, 
 and a large white shawl which stood up in a peak at 
 the back of her white bonnet, which was of stout 
 corded silk, and had a ruffle round the face. 
 
 " Like it? " Tony inquired at length, some ten 
 miles having ticked off the speedometer ; he trans-
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 43 
 
 lated his speech into Dolores' native tongue, and 
 she smiled. 
 
 Tony put an arm round all the sweet whiteness, 
 and Doro laughed, she stretched up, and laid a 
 hand on the huge steering wheel and laughed again, 
 so Tony lifted her on his knee and Doro drove. 
 
 It was hot and still and peaceful, and at last, 
 having noticed a garden which seemed to belong to 
 an untenanted house, Tony ran the car back, and, 
 holding Doro on one arm, went in at the rusty iron 
 gate to investigate. 
 
 The house a square, pink-washed building, the 
 pink faded to a pale lemon colour in many places, 
 its black and white roof glittering in the sunshine 
 stood back, raised upon two small terraces. It 
 appeared utterly deserted, and indeed the cobbled 
 paths were nearly .hidden beneath their growth of 
 rank grass and groundsel. 
 
 But the terraces were cascades of loveliness, from 
 which roses tumbled in velvety waves of gorgeous 
 deep red, and sheerest, most delicate pink. 
 
 Tony took out his pipe, and sat down beneath an 
 orange tree. 
 
 It was infinitely peaceful here; there seemed to 
 be only sunshine, and the nearness of the bees, and 
 roses in the world. 
 
 " We'll come here often," he said to Doro, " you 
 and I, d'you see? It's our enchanted garden; we 
 discovered it."
 
 44 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He looked gravely at Doro, who looked back with 
 that wide, satisfying look of childhood when it loves 
 and trusts. 
 
 Tony had none of that reputed shyness, dis-ease 
 of mind, which is popularly supposed to beset a man 
 at the mere nearness of a baby; he had no gene 
 whatever where children were concerned ; tout court 
 he belonged to that class of men which likes chil- 
 dren, dogs and horses, because it understands them, 
 a class whose adjectives are limited, but their hearts 
 large. 
 
 He was planning all sorts of things for Doro, as 
 she industriously rolled one orange after another 
 between his feet, white goal-posts of obliging ex- 
 tension into which Doro " shot " with surprising 
 regularity when she sat close to the right foot and 
 pushed the orange with both hands. 
 
 This mancEuvre Tony criticized, as became one 
 of the sporting patrons of the British Empire. He 
 instructed Doro in the mysteries of a " foul," and 
 urged her to shoot a little farther off, thus intro- 
 ducing more dash into the game. 
 
 Doro agreed instantly ; she sat down with a com- 
 fortable bump opposite Tony at a distance of two 
 yards, and proceeded to kick off. 
 
 "Good egg," Tony said judicially, when a stout 
 orange, by pure chance, rolled home at last ; " keep 
 it up, old lady." 
 
 They played absorbedly, both being of that tem- 
 perament which has received biblical mention in
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 45 
 
 the form of an adjuration, which advice applied to 
 trade crises to-day, should prove of inestimable 
 value to the output, if the workers could accept it ! 
 
 Doro and Tony pursued their labour with their 
 Ifeet in place of hands, as originally directed, but the 
 result was satisfactory. 
 
 " I'll teach you cricket later on," Tony volun- 
 teered as the game progressed; "and to ride, and 
 shoot, and, above all, fish, my dear." 
 
 He removed his pipe from between his teeth in 
 order to give Doro a fair and unimpeded statement 
 on this vital matter. 
 
 " Fishin' is the sport, Doro. To go out early, and 
 stand and watch the deep swirl of quiet water, to 
 wait and think, and then do it all over again in a 
 world to yourself, where you can feel there's room, 
 where you can breathe at peace. And then home in 
 the evening through the thick, soft grass with the 
 shadows creeping over the hills and the smell of 
 crushed leaves and wood fires burnin' ; there's a lot 
 in fishing, baby, take it from me." 
 
 Doro apparently " took " it, for she said slowly 
 and distinctly, as one repeats a hallowed word: 
 " Fish." 
 
 To Tony's ardent, Waltonian soul, this was sheer 
 joy ; he felt this would be an anecdote for all time to 
 prove conclusively the superlative wisdom of Doro, 
 and they passed towards the car in radiant mood. 
 
 Within view of the gate Tony halted abruptly, 
 and as he did so a voice hailed him languidly :
 
 46 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Hullo, Rex ! At last. I knew the car, of course ; 
 been stalking you, as a matter of fact. Why 
 what " 
 
 There was a pause, during which Tony lifted 
 Doro and walked out of the garden, 
 
 He said, meeting the amused, amazed stare of the 
 young man in the second car : 
 
 " We've adopted Doro. Doro, this is your Uncle 
 Pan." 
 
 Pasquale Greville, after one swift glance at 
 Tony's face, bent over Doro's hand and raised it 
 with absurd empressment to his lips. As he lifted 
 his head he said lightly : 
 
 " Ton my soul, Rex, your taste is excellent ! Con- 
 gratulations indeed ! " 
 
 Tony grunted non-committally ; then he said : 
 
 " Why are you here? I thought you said in your 
 note to Fay it was impossible to obtain leave ; that 
 you had some special stunt on? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, but that is quite over ; the affair has 
 died out. They always do in Madrid. We live on 
 .the verge of death by reason of our diplomatic 
 frenzy over some detail, and behold, the next day, or 
 at tea-time the same day, it is over ! This particular 
 affair shrivelled like tissue paper in a flame. One 
 ( becomes inured to an enormous expenditure of 
 energy over nothing after a time and remains impas- 
 sive. Then one obtains leave, for the Powers believe 
 impassiveness to be exhaustion due to forced labour.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 47 
 
 I have never admired economy, but always its 
 result ! " 
 
 He gave a little laugh at his own words, and Tony 
 inquired unsmilingly: "Your car?" his eyes on 
 the scarlet racer. 
 
 " Oh, no ; Desanges lent it me." 
 
 He nodded to the chauffeur at the wheel and told 
 him in excellent Spanish to crank up. 
 
 " You can go back to the hotel. I am returning in 
 the other car." 
 
 " See Fay at the hotel? " Tony inquired next. 
 
 " No, her maid said she was asleep, but a very 
 voluble Cordovan, with excellent teeth and pencil- 
 line eyebrows, told me you had gone off in the car. 
 I was rather surprised at her knowledge, knowing 
 your views ; but I see, upon reflection, that the girl 
 really has a position in your menage necessitated, 
 one supposes, by my niece's advent." 
 
 Tony said jerkily : 
 
 " I rescued Doro, and then I we er we simply 
 decided to adopt her." 
 
 " Excellent idea, since she is quite beautiful." 
 
 Tony thawed a little at this praise. Pasquale and 
 he had never, as he phrased it to himself, quite " hit 
 it." Charles and he were differently bound editions 
 of each other; but Pasquale, who was ten years 
 younger, and had been the only child of their 
 father's second marriage, had never fitted into the 
 perfect circle. Yet, for the life of him, Tony could 
 not have said why he had this detached feeling about
 
 48 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Pasquale, why Charles and he rarely talked of him, 
 and why Pasquale seemed to lead a life apart. 
 
 He had chosen to go into the Diplomatic, and 
 Madrid had been his first post; it had been at his 
 instigation that the Kexfords had decided to motor^ 
 in Spain ; they had all met in Paris, by chance, and 
 Pasquale had seemed, for once, actually enthusias- 
 tic about something, and the something had been 
 Cordova. 
 
 " It has mystery ; it holds the past between the 
 dry palms of its dark hands," he had said. 
 
 Tony, in his more acute moments, had wondered 
 whether Pasquale had not the poetic instinct; 
 rather, let us say, he had feared this catastrophe, 
 and always dreaded secretly to receive tangible 
 proof thereof, specially when Pasquale " enthused." 
 
 Of course, it had been realized very early in the 
 Kexford home that " Pasquale " as a name was im- 
 possible; the Rexford tradition, as exemplified in 
 the two elder sons, decreed all things foreign to be 
 somewhat " high f alutin' " ; as a compromise, and 
 partly because Pasquale used the word himself, he 
 had been nicknamed " Pan." 
 
 By chance, therefore certainly from no far 
 vision on the part of Tony or Charles they gave 
 their small half-brother a name whose appositeness, 
 later in his life, could not be gainsaid. 
 
 Another quietly mournful outlook of Tony's was 
 concerned with Pasquale's undeniable beauty; 
 Tony considered it almost distressing; it seemed
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 49 
 
 .unmanly of Pasquale to be really beautiful, and odd 
 and unnecessary that any member of decent family 
 should be so dowered. One divine mercy alone had 
 been vouchsafed to him in this connexion: Pas- 
 quale was not conceited, or at least, if he was, he 
 had sufficient subtlety to disguise the fact. 
 
 Dimly, Tony realized Pasquale was "damn 
 clever," and that also disquieted him ; he could not 
 fathom this brilliant-eyed, brilliant-brained young 
 brother at all, with his deliberately exotic outlook, 
 his barbaric strength, and his pose of extreme Ian- 
 guidness about everyone and everything. 
 
 " Comes of bein' foreign," Tony told himself, find- 
 ing therein a balm for his own perplexity of mind. 
 " It's his Hungarian mother." 
 
 It would have been a source of comfort to Tony 
 if Pasquale's mother had been Austrian ; it seemed 
 a less remote, less wild, and altogether better coun- 
 try to have sprung from. 
 
 She had died shortly after his father, who had 
 idolized her and, also true to type, idealized her too, 
 a fortunate combination of adoration, and one 
 which adds enormously to the comfort and peace of 
 life for both people concerned. 
 
 Tony and his stepmother had " got on," inasmuch 
 that both had tacitly and unobtrusively avoided the 
 other ; after his mother's death Tony had made over 
 her fortune to her son. 
 
 He imagined now that Pasquale's surprise visit 
 was probably due to money shortage, but he minded
 
 50 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 that very little; he was a generous soul, and the 
 " clan-protective " instinct stood him in good stead 
 here. 
 
 Pasquale had lifted Doro on to his knee and was 
 teasing her in Spanish, to which she responded with 
 complete self-possession. 
 
 Both Doro and he smiled at Tony at the same 
 moment, and he was struck by the brilliance of their 
 smiles, the quick flash of Pasquale's golden hazel 
 eyes, the translucent sweetness of Doro's. 
 
 He found himself thinking, " What ripping chil- 
 dren Pan'll have " ; aloud he said : 
 
 "Why don't you marry, Pan?" 
 
 " Why should one? " Pasquale answered evenly. 
 "At twenty -five anyway? Vaut pas la peine, my 
 dear ! " 
 
 " Seems a pity not to," Tony said. " Be better 
 for you than your type of life." 
 
 Pasquale made a little grimace over Doro's head, 
 his clear-cut lips curved downwards for a moment, 
 his eyes held a faintly contemptuous look. 
 
 With that needle-like intuition of some "pointed" 
 minds which goes unerringly to the very subject the 
 listener wishes to avoid, he asked in retaliation : 
 
 " How exactly does Francesca feel about Doro? " 
 
 Tony bristled defensively. 
 
 "How d'you mean, how exactly does she feel 
 about it? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh ! it occurred to me that it must be rather 
 difficult, one would think, to accept such a condi-
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 51 
 
 tion, even when it means so lovely a thing, and not 
 feel something. She was most awfully cut up when 
 her accident happened, wasn't she? " 
 
 Tony said rather heavily: 
 
 " Fay suggested our adopting Doro." 
 
 Pasquale smiled again, this time with a mixture 
 of admiration and derision. 
 
 " Oh, I knew that; I was sure it would be she," 
 he agreed lightly. 
 
 They drove the rest of the way in silence ; on the 
 veranda Francesca was waiting for them; she 
 waved to them gaily. 
 
 Pasquale noticed the Cordovan girl with the 
 pencil-line eyebrows was just behind her, and that 
 Francesca gave her directions. 
 
 He therefore was quite ready to deliver Doro into 
 the arms held up for her, and Tony descended unen- 
 cumbered from the car. 
 
 Between Pasquale and Francesca a friendship 
 had always existed; his good looks must have ap- 
 pealed to any lover of beauty ; the modelling of his 
 head alone, with its darkly shining cap of thick 
 hair, was perfect, and he had, moreover, the build, 
 slender yet so suggestive of splendid strength, of an 
 athlete, and, coupled with it, great height. 
 
 Women sighed at him, after him, for him, and to 
 his great amusement and secret satisfaction. He 
 was spoilt and he enjoyed it. 
 
 " Everyone ought to be," so he declared ; " it does 
 them good."
 
 52 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Whatever direct/aetion results from this course, 
 I should feel inclined to lay heavy odds against its 
 being one connected with virtue ! " Francesca 
 laughed at him. 
 
 He took off his soft, white hat now and greeted 
 her, kissing first one hand and then the other. With 
 Francesca he was perhaps more boyish, more genu- 
 ine than with any other woman ; he was fond of her, 
 he had never dreamt of being in love with her, so 
 that he was able to like her and really appreciate 
 her. 
 
 To-day he was intensely sorry for her; all the 
 sleeping chivalry of his nature, so long smothered 
 by the weight of his entirely selfish code of life, was 
 stirred. 
 
 His intuition told him at once that she had suf- 
 fered, no less than the faint violet stains beneath 
 her charming dark eyes. 
 
 He leant back against one of the wooden pillars 
 of the veranda, and found Francesca a wholly 
 attractive being to watch. Her extreme slenderness, 
 concealed, yet beautifully suggested, by her thin 
 white frock, silhouetted against the riot of pink 
 geraniums, which seemed to throw a rose light on 
 to her palely golden hair, delighted him ; she pos- 
 sessed, moreover, to a great degree that inexplicable, 
 almost indescribable power of suggesting at once 
 allure and reserve. 
 
 Pasquale thought to himself : " She is the sort
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 53 
 
 of woman men want to fall in love with, and other 
 women envy." 
 
 To-day all that effect was there, but it was as if 
 it gleamed through a shadow. 
 
 " She is deadly unhappy," Pasquale told himself, 
 and he would have liked in that instant to put his 
 arms about her and say : " Look here, I know. And 
 I'm most awfully sorry, Fay." 
 
 But he was quite aware that Francesca would 
 laugh at him, stroke his hair amusedly and make 
 him feel abominably self-conscious. 
 
 As it was, he laughed at himself for having let 
 sentiment guide him so dangerously. His great 
 effort, as he conceived at the moment, was to enjoy 
 without regret and to avoid without reproach. 
 
 So he said now, lightly : 
 
 " I like your baby, Francesca, and you would of 
 course choose one with looks. She has the advan- 
 tage, too, of getting 'em, as it were, retail! One 
 cannot argue at least whose eyes she has, or which 
 side of the family invented her nose ! " 
 
 He went on talking amusingly of Madrid ; he was 
 keen, too, on the Eexfords returning with him, and 
 then, after a brief stay, driving on to Biarritz, " all 
 silver sea-spray, and baccarat, and freesias, and the 
 most exciting cocktails, my dears. You must come ! " 
 
 Tony, who hated being called " my dear," consid- 
 ering its application to himself to be one of those 
 peculiarly mosquito-like affronts which it was im-
 
 54 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 possible to resent openly without appearing foolish, 
 now lit a pipe and maintained silence. 
 
 " Look thou not down, but up," Pasquale adjured 
 him with languid amusement. 
 
 "Oh, we'll go if you like," Tony said ungra- 
 ciously, his eyes on Francesca. 
 
 "Then that is settled," Pasquale suggested, 
 watching Tony's face between his thick lashes. He 
 was as impersonally angry with Tony as his type 
 of nature would allow him to be, on Francesca's 
 account. 
 
 In his heart there burned no steady flame of 
 whitely protective passion, to him " Hurstpoint " 
 was merely a place he had always known, which 
 Tony had, since his succession, improved rather 
 pleasantly, but he understood Francesca's outlook 
 extraordinarily well, and Tony's not at all, and for 
 the n th time he asked himself, with a faint shrug of 
 his shoulders, why clever women ever married 
 stupid men? Or why, having married them, they 
 did not order their lives by their own chosen 
 direction? 
 
 Love, embodying selflessness, had never entered 
 into Pasquale's scheme of things; one wanted, one 
 obtained, one's own expression of affection was 
 necessarily regulated by the offering it received. 
 
 He walked alone with Francesca in the old gar- 
 den; it was very late, they had not begun to dine 
 until nine, and now the nightingales were singing 
 and the air held a wine-like intoxication of perfume.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 55 
 
 elusive, infinitely alluring ; a wind like a caress, so 
 soft, so cool, so fragrant, lifted the close leaves of 
 the cypress trees, and once, it was so still, a rose 
 broke and its petals fell, each distinctly, on to the 
 sun-burnt earth. 
 
 It was a night when longing wakes in the heart, 
 causeless perhaps, unidentified with any real 
 thought or hope, save just the wish that such love- 
 liness might never die, that one's heart might never 
 miss its poignant, heavenly-sweet appeal; it was a 
 night when unhappiness is so much more unhappy 
 than it has been by day, when contrast forces it into 
 more vivid being, and makes all the loveliness as 
 well hurt and ache in the wound which throbs so in 
 one's heart. 
 
 Francesca sought desperately to escape from her- 
 self. Tony had vanished after dinner; she had 
 known where he had gone, of course, but she had 
 thought he would soon join Pasquale and herself in 
 the garden. 
 
 He had not come. 
 
 A week ago, he would have walked beside her, 
 slid an arm in hers, and loved the loveliness with 
 her. 
 
 He might be inarticulate, but Francesca heard 
 the words he never said. 
 
 And suddenly Pasquale's youth, his sheer joy of 
 living, lashed across the wound in her heart. 
 
 Ordinarily, his pose was indifference to all things, 
 or the cultivation of a taste so eclectic, nothing
 
 56 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 really satisfied; but to-night the magic of the 
 scented darkness stripped him of his diseased fas- 
 tidiousness, and made him, for the moment, a nor- 
 mal being. He slid a quick hand through Fran- 
 cesca's arm. 
 
 " It is divine, all of it, isn't it? One's pagan self 
 is called back to the burning past by a night like 
 this. Simply to be alive with all the world before 
 one, all of time, to dream in, love in, compete in! 
 Francesca, d'you know, I feel to-night as if each 
 star were mine to fling over the edge of all the skies, 
 
 if I so wanted. I feel " He stopped as suddenly 
 
 as he had spoken, and added, his mind divining 
 hers : " Whilst you feel that everything is utterly 
 wrong out of the scheme of things " 
 
 Francesca gave a little low laugh. 
 
 " My dear boy, it isn't any good feeling anything 
 more about it. It has happened, you see. I made 
 it happen. I should have been a quite worthless 
 being if I had not done so, and I should be a coward 
 and fool if I regretted a decent action. I am neither. 
 I am simply, rather contemptibly, quite humanly, a 
 jealous woman, whose jealousy is redeemed a little 
 by the fact that I try to smile at myself when I do 
 not despise my own idiocy ! " 
 
 " Why did you do it? " Pasquale asked with hard 
 curiosity. 
 
 Francesca laughed again. 
 
 " Why? Oh, for a reason you will scarcely under- 
 stand, you are too youthfully clever still, too old
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 57 
 
 for your own heart, my dear ! Because I love Tony, 
 because I want him to love me, because he is so 
 much my small son, as well as my husband, and 
 because he isn't clever, and he has no use, therefore, 
 for substitutions, and cannot understand i instead 
 of ' for the words * of course ' ; and because all these 
 things being so, he must have what he wants if I 
 can give it him. I could give him Doro, you see rf 
 though I struggled not to. Then he defeated me 
 because he fought on my side ! I was thinking only 
 of myself, and he thought of me, too." 
 
 " Or you imagined he did," Pasquale interpolated. 
 
 " My dear, whatever one believes is true when one 
 loves, as long as one does believe it, that belief 
 makes it true. But, if you like, I chose to believe 
 Tony considered me, and so I considered him we 
 revolved in a beneficent circle, from which there 
 was no outlet unless I forced one. It was a ques- 
 tion: why should two people be unhappy or one 
 quite happy? And I abhor foolish waste. So here 
 we are now, two of us perfectly happy, the third, 
 myself, if not happy, at least good a state which 
 should bring its own reward, and never does, I 
 have noticed, probably because one feels such exer- 
 cise should be recompensed, thereby robbing the 
 action of its value ! I seem, too, to be in rather the 
 position of those dowered ones who are told, be- 
 cause they have, they shall have ! a most perverse 
 form of generosity it seems to me, and merely 
 another method of chastisement ; suggesting to my
 
 58 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 profound mind, in this instance, the action of those 
 Christmas friends who will give you presents to 
 please themselves, quite irrespective of what they 
 know you want and then you have to seem grati- 
 fied! Pasquale, d'you know, I feel sometimes as I 
 think a shipwrecked person must do, who finds a 
 boat on his desert island, and then discovers it has 
 no oars, nor he the power to fashion any ! Tony and 
 I both wanted a child so much; we felt, I think, 
 following up my rather poor metaphor, that a child 
 would help us to push out into the life off the island 
 where we had become rather narrowed perhaps. 
 Now the child is there, and I don't know what to do, 
 and my lack of skill in helping defeats Tony's power 
 as well." 
 
 " I understand," Pasquale said quickly, " and 
 Tony's so forward, shall we say, about this matter 
 because he has not much vision. It's a deuce of a 
 risk, for one thing, I should imagine, adopting a 
 child like Doro. How on earth can one foresee how 
 she may develop? " 
 
 It was obvious he obtained a certain trite satis- 
 faction from the contemplation of Tony's probable 
 disappointment. 
 
 " There is such a thing as reversion to type," he 
 added. 
 
 Francesca felt how very far away from her he 
 was, despite his evident desire to comfort; he saw 
 only one crude issue ; he visioned for her one con- 
 solation for her bitterness Tony's discomfiture
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 59 
 
 and, at once, that married loyalty which is so in- 
 comprehensible to any outside person, a loyalty 
 which will maintain itself perversely under the most 
 amazing conditions, asserted itself. 
 
 " Oh, no, that sort of thing will not happen," she 
 said quietly, " environment is "nine-tenths of this 
 sort of battle sufficiently early environment, bien 
 entendu and we have that advantage, you will 
 own, wholly on our side. My dear, look at the world 
 we know ourselves; if you need examples I could 
 point to men and women whom we both know now. 
 to whom environment has meant everything, whom 
 environment has made. I grant you they have 
 brains the women more markedly than the men, 
 for their sense of values is so much more definitely 
 social and, after all, as long as a man makes good, 
 one is apt to tolerate him easily. But one ranks 
 women differently, and really their response to en- 
 vironment is amazing. I know a woman who is 
 legitimately famous for her wit, her charm, her 
 general ' flair ' for all that is decorative, and, in a 
 limited sense, l right ' in life. Her nearest relatives 
 are of that class from which Doro springs; her 
 father made money; he had vision; he married a 
 gently-bred woman, and the daughter had initiative 
 and one other great asset, the gift of differentiation ; 
 she could choose, she did ; she ' chose ' the right 
 husband, and cultivated various eclectic tastes and 
 trained them. Expensive tastes, the right kind, 
 give a cachet of exclusiveness ! Quite a number of
 
 60 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 people have attained eminence through a hobby ; it 
 is one of the dearest but wisest forms of social 
 imposition! Only it must be a rare taste. This 
 woman collected something and made it her hobby, 
 as she made her children, by dint of study, the real 
 thing. The only detail she overdoes, and it is quite 
 a good thing to overdo in her case, is her extreme 
 indifference to all so-called class distinction. No 
 woman with any position ever really possesses this 
 indifference. One pretends to do so and grades 
 one's parties! Or one gives an olla podrida and 
 is furious at the wrong people being mentioned as 
 being present ! Honestly, Pan, what snobs we are, 
 every one of us ! " 
 
 " Yes. Adds a flavour to life. Nothing is so de- 
 pressing as universal anything ; haven't you noticed 
 that? And snobbishness, even if it is cheap, makes 
 for gaiety ! If one hadn't got it, life would be pre- 
 cious dull. And it's so pleasant to feel superior, 
 and it's amusing, too, when you know that you're 
 feeling superior about a thing you couldn't possibly 
 help, anyway! You're amused both ways then: by 
 the other lesser-gifted souls who value what you 
 can't help having, and with yourselves for valuing 
 their appreciation ! " 
 
 Tony's voice called out of the soft darkness. 
 
 " Here," Francesca answered. 
 
 He came towards them slowly, his cigar-end look- 
 ing like a tiny, travelling crimson star. 
 
 " What have you two been discussing? "
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 61 
 
 " Social values," Francesca said with a little 
 laugh. 
 
 " And what are they? " 
 
 " Things that only the people who don't need 
 them ever have, really," Pasquale said derisively. 
 
 Tony was standing still: he said now in a low 
 voice : 
 
 " Bather good out here, Fay, what? By Jove, the 
 honeysuckle smells like an English lane ! " 
 
 " There's glory for you," Pasquale said with light 
 derisiveness, apostrophizing the honeysuckle ; " you 
 smell like a nice, neat English lane where Reuben 
 and his lass walk heavily, his earth-stained, horny- 
 hand about her well-steeled waist, and where the 
 stars shine down demurely! Here we have only a 
 flood of passionate perfume and the stars blazing 
 goldenly, and the very dust is shaken by Romance ! " 
 
 He took out his cigarette case and chose a ciga- 
 rette and shut the case with a sharp snap. Tony 
 was on his nerves; he longed to irritate him, to jerk 
 him from his state of fatuous baby- worship ; it was 
 absurd and Francesca's beauty, a certain note 
 which had trembled in her voice when she had 
 answered Tony's call so swiftly, fed his anger incon- 
 sequently ; he wanted life, all that was lovely in it, 
 to be for him alone that night ; he relented a state 
 of things which offered him, personally, nothing. 
 
 He said deliberately, after an instant's pause : 
 
 " Where've you been all this time, Tony? "
 
 62 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 At once Francesca began to speak; Pasquale 
 knew she did not want the answer. 
 
 Tony's stolidness was not easily shaken. 
 
 " I went up to see if Doro was all right," he said. 
 
 " On such a night ! " Francesca quoted. 
 
 "Is anything special to-night?" Tony asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 Pasquale went off into fits of laughter ; a servant 
 passed carrying a lantern, and for the moment his 
 beautiful, laughing face was clearly visible; he 
 looked like a faun in the passing flash of gold, a 
 faun delighting maliciously in his power.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "A secret between two is God's secret" 
 
 RABINDRANATH TAGORE. 
 
 BIARRITZ, despite its baccarat, its cocktails, 
 and its freesia, was not very satisfactory. 
 Tony did not like " large " hotel life, and just 
 then Biarritz was crowded; he seemed to move 
 amidst a swirl of diamonds, dresses, high laughter, 
 endless meals. 
 
 Doro did not like it either ; she saw little of Tony ; 
 she had a dull life; she said so in Spanish with a 
 wail, and suddenly she grew pale, and all at once 
 she was ill. 
 
 For the first time Francesca voluntarily cared for 
 Doro; she walked with her in her arms trying to 
 soothe her, murmuring over and over the little 
 words of love babies understand in any language. 
 
 She had come in from a dance at the villa that 
 Diana Arundel had taken for the season, and she 
 had felt very tired, most inclined for bed. Tony, too, 
 had been, as he put it, " yawning his head off " since 
 their return to the hotel, when Emilia knocked at 
 the door and said with frenzied gestures that " the 
 blessed little one the angel -baby was ill dying; 
 who knew, save the good God, what was to be 
 done? " 
 
 63
 
 64 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Without being gifted with celestial wisdom, Fran- 
 cesca seemed to know; she had one glimpse of 
 Tony's face looking stupid through fear, then, put- 
 ting on a peignoir, she ran to Doro's room. In her 
 mind, as she rocked Doro, there raced a medley of 
 memories culled years before from some little 
 " manual " she had read with such youth and such 
 earnestness. * 
 
 "Hot water" seemed all she could remember, 
 and she applied it, and Doro relaxed, coughed piti- 
 fully, and was better, and Francesca was conscious 
 of a quick joy as she clasped that small figure and 
 cuddled it down against her heart. 
 
 She walked up and down, up and down, whilst 
 the darkness faded and the light came, when Tony 
 tip-toed in, followed by a little, voluble doctor, who 
 seemed to have come for the sole purpose of telling 
 Francesca how clever she was. 
 
 When he had gone again and Francesca was sit- 
 ting on the couch with Doro still sleeping, Tony 
 came and knelt beside them. He put an arm about 
 Francesca and leant his head for an instant against 
 hers. 
 
 " I say, Fay, you are a ripper," he said hoarsely ; 
 " that chap, Gomez, says if you hadn't been so 
 prompt Doro'd not have had a chance. I I've 
 wanted to thank you so much about about well, 
 all this, adopting her and so on, but to-night 
 
 He waited until Doro slept in her cot, with Emilia 
 watching fervently beside her; then, out in the
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 65 
 
 empty corridor, lit now by one long adventurous 
 spear of golden light, he lifted Francesca in his 
 arms. 
 
 " You're dead tired," he said. 
 
 He carried her into their room and laid her on 
 the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, to 
 return with a kettle and little spirit stove. He lit 
 the stove, set on the kettle, and measured tea from 
 Franeesca's tiny silver caddy ; when the water had 
 boiled and he had made the tea, he carried Fran- 
 cesca's cup to her and held it to her lips. 
 
 " Come on, Sweetness, drink it up." 
 
 He had not called her that for years; it had 
 always been rather a high-day and special term, 
 reserved for use on great occasions, and not to be 
 dealt with lightly or unadvisedly. 
 
 In this time of dawning, the cup of tea, Tony's 
 large, dressing-gowned figure, his untidy mat of 
 hair, and that last expression, seemed to Francesca 
 to make up for all the bitter-sweetness of her gift of 
 Doro to him; for all the self-torture and weary 
 depression. The tea was far too strong, and it had 
 no sugar in it, and insufficient milk; but it had, 
 nevertheless, an Olympian flavour. 
 
 " Now go to sleep, there's a good girl," Tony said 
 
 in his most fatherly-masterly-husband way. 
 * * * * * 
 
 They reached HtHtetpoint in the early autumn, 
 having travelled up through the chateau country 
 very leisurely, and at once life became a series of
 
 66 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 house-parties, of shooting by day, of much bridge 
 and poker in the evening, and very little baby- 
 worship indeed. 
 
 Doro appeared and disappeared, and Tony 
 laughed at her and lost her, save for one hour in the 
 evening before dinner, when he sneaked off to the 
 nursery, where he generally found most of the staff, 
 headed by old Mrs. Beadle, teaching Doro English. 
 
 She learnt with amazing quickness, just as she 
 progressed in her walking, so that one evening she 
 strode from her chair to Tony like a warrior going 
 into battle. 
 
 "Topping," said Tony, and Doro added a new 
 word to her growing list. 
 
 She had a way of choosing out from a sentence 
 two words which expressed just what she wanted, 
 so that Tony's invitation to " come and walk a bit," 
 became from Doro to him the command, perfectly 
 understood by both, " a bit," and the nursery catch- 
 phrase, " give me a kiss, baby," an imperious " kiss." 
 
 It was Francesca, though, who introduced into 
 nursery life a joy hitherto unknown, in the form of 
 Mck, that redoubtable " errier boy," as Doro came 
 to call him, and, as Mck knew himself to be, the best 
 ratter, the pride of the yard, and the distinction of 
 his master. 
 
 Until his fall, which, like Lucifer's, was mighty. 
 
 For Mck became the nursery dog; he was intro- 
 duced into this Paradise of the fallen by Francesca ; 
 he light-heartedly accompanied her thither one
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 67 
 
 rainy afternoon when he had chanced to meet her 
 in the hall, and, finding life dull, had decided to 
 walk a little in her company. 
 
 He went, he was seen, he was conquered by Doro, 
 who, ignorant of his prowess, his reputation, un- 
 aware even of the excellence and beauty of his 
 shape, clasped him about his middle and besought 
 him to kiss. 
 
 Mck looked into those green eyes, and for him, 
 Antony's temptation, that of Paris, the adoration 
 of Komeo, became a living thing; he mutely wor- 
 shipped and, like Antony, forsook a warlike life to 
 bask in luxury. 
 
 His master spoke to him rather in sorrow than in 
 anger, but Mck was adamant; he wagged a feeble 
 tail, but he remained with Doro. 
 
 He would take an occasional walk with Tony, 
 when it was very wet, perhaps, and the wind was 
 rockety, and there was a good earthy smell of leaves 
 and rain ; he would go forth then beside Tony, and 
 Tony would talk to him like a father. 
 
 " Where's your sporting instinct now ; where's 
 your professional pride? You've let me down; 
 you've lowered the kennel standard ! The prestige 
 of the yard ! " And Mck would listen, his dark, 
 golden eyes serene, his tail carried " just so," as one 
 who said " Doro loves me," and to Doro he would 
 return at a racing pace, wet and muddy paws, eager, 
 damp nose, soaking coat, " an' all," as Mrs. Beadle 
 was wont to say tragically, trying to clean first
 
 68 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Doro, and then Nick, after one of his perambu- 
 lations. 
 
 " How are the mighty fallen ! " Tony would say to 
 him, and Nick would look from happy and harmful 
 gazing into the glowing fire and say as plainly as 
 plainly, one ear up, " On to their paws ! " 
 
 "He'll have to go to town with us later on, 
 y'know," Tony said earnestly to Francesca ; " he'll 
 pine away if he doesn't." 
 
 They were sitting in that wonderful interval of 
 peace, the dressing-hour, together. Mathilde had 
 not yet come, and Tony had dressed early. 
 
 Francesca was lying on the couch before the log- 
 fire, watching the little emerald and sapphire flames 
 playing games together. 
 
 This sitting-room of hers at Hurstpoint was her 
 own entirely; Tony had given her everything in it 
 at some time or another. It opened out of their bed- 
 room, and was furnished partly as a dressing-room 
 and partly as a sitting-room. 
 
 On the white walls hung portraits of Tony, a 
 photograph of Sargent's picture of Francesca, views 
 of their homes ; there was a bureau where Francesca 
 wrote her letters, and in one corner her big dressing- 
 table with its five-winged mirror. 
 
 Tony was mooning about happily, his pipe be- 
 tween his lips, sniffing scent bottles, giving his hair 
 a last sleek down with Francesca's brushes. 
 
 Secretly, he adored the " clutter " of Francesca's 
 dressing-table, as he called it, though he would never
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 69 
 
 have owned to such a weakness. But he did; it 
 intrigued and amused him, just as Francesca's 
 extremely able management of their houses aroused 
 his silent, intense admiration. He loved the "finish" 
 of her ; her way of getting things rightly done, and 
 yet never talking about doing them at all. 
 
 Francesca's voice came to him : 
 
 "Had a good day?" 
 
 "Kather. Gad, it was a run; mud up to your 
 neck and the softest going, but a scent like a knife." 
 
 " Darling, how splendid ! " 
 
 " Yes ; but I say " polishing a thumbnail which 
 would have needed a pot of polish to make it shine, 
 " I say, why didn't you turn out? " 
 
 Fay laughed; he turned and looked at her with 
 a surprised smile. 
 
 "Why? Anything funny on?" 
 
 She was sitting up amongst a pile of frilly cush- 
 ions, her hair was done in a loose plait, and she 
 looked very young and gaily sweet. 
 
 Tony went across to the couch and stood beside 
 it, looking down, his brown face still smiling. 
 
 " Any special reason? " 
 
 Fay cleared a space for him. 
 
 " Sit down and I'll tell you." 
 
 He sat down obediently. 
 
 " I suppose you were in the field until tea-time 
 and I never knew? Some dodge like that? " 
 
 " No. I had a more important reason." 
 
 " Give it up, old lady."
 
 70 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 t 
 
 " Tony, you know you said just now we'd have 
 to take Nick with us when we went up to town in 
 the spring? " 
 
 " As becomes a brave man, I cling to my words." 
 
 " Tony, suppose we stay down here? " 
 
 " Miss the season, darling? / shouldn't care, you 
 know that, but I won't have you chucking every- 
 thing just because I love the country." 
 
 " Oh, Tony, be like a husband in a play or a 
 novel. Say, ' No oh ! my darling it cannot be.' ' 
 
 She stopped with a broken little laugh, and for 
 an instant there was a dead silence; then she put 
 out one hand and drew Tony's cheek to her own. 
 
 " Darling, it's true, darling, it's quite, quite true 
 after all after our despair after all the special- 
 ist said ! Sir Graham Duke was here this afternoon, 
 and he's so pleased. Aren't aren't you? " 
 
 " Pleased" Tony echoed thickly. He thrust him- 
 self a little way away from her, then caught her in 
 his arms and held her so, her head against his 
 shoulder, looking down at her face in the firelight ; 
 she buried it against him suddenly, and he sat on, 
 whispering at her, kissing her hair. 
 
 The gong boomed out, Mathilde knocked. Fran- 
 cesca stood up. 
 
 " I've ruined your shirt, darling ! Eun and change 
 it whilst I dress I'll have to hurry." 
 
 "Just a second," Tony said; he called out in 
 execrable French to Mathilde to wait, then he went 
 back to Francesca.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 71 
 
 " I say, Sweetness," he said unsteadily. 
 
 They stood so, quite near to one another, yet not 
 even their hands touching for a moment; then he 
 bent and kissed her mouth and left her.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ". . . . / thought to find 
 
 Lips wither, listening cease, and eyes grow blind. 
 Yet still my eyes, where hope no longer grows, 
 Beyond all other eyes keep watch for those; 
 Mine ear awaits thy voice without my door, 
 And my hand seeks for thy hand evermore." 
 
 MONICA PEVERIL TURNBULL. 
 
 FRANCESCA'S on was born in a midsummer 
 which seemed to swoon in a haze of amethyst- 
 tinted heat ; the day had no vitality, the very 
 air seemed exhausted, and, as a breathless evening 
 closed in, with the waning of the day's weary love- 
 liness, Francesca's strength waned too. 
 
 She died at dawn, a little faint inscrutable smile 
 on her curved lips, her last look one of love for 
 Tony; and it seemed to him, meeting it, welcoming 
 it, that Francesca must be getting better, it was so 
 like her usual smile, a little mocking in some way, 
 a little wistful, wholly sweet. 
 
 He knelt down by the side of the big bed, from 
 which all the tinted hangings had been stripped 
 away, and took Francesca's frail hand in his. A 
 thousand incoherent memories flooded his tired 
 mind, jostling one another impotently, inducing in 
 him a sense of intolerable, irritating fatigue. 
 
 72
 
 . ALMOND-BLOSSOM 73 
 
 " God, if the day would come Fay speak they 
 had a son what a life-time ago it seemed since Fay 
 had told him they had beaten the home coverts 
 that day or hunted and one night in Spain she 
 had talked to him a little the same before they had 
 taken Doro Their wedding-day and the yellow 
 roses a waiter had got somewhere odd how that 
 sort of fellow managed to get things there had 
 never been a woman to touch Fay. Why on all 
 God's earth didn't some doctor or other give her 
 something to buck her up, bring her round? She'd 
 such vitality that day, years ago, out hunting, 
 after her accident " 
 
 Her hand moved very gently in his ; he lifted his 
 haggard face ; Fay was looking very clearly at him. 
 
 " You're better? " he said hoarsely. 
 
 She smiled straight into his blue eyes, tenderly, 
 under standingly ; her lips moved. 
 
 " Fay ! " Tony called loudly in uncontrollable 
 anguish. 
 
 She had always answered his every need, divin- 
 ing from the very first that only such love could 
 serve him ; she made a great effort now, her sweetest 
 
 and last. 
 
 ***** 
 
 In the nursery Rex cried, and Doro considered 
 him, then expressed her consideration in Spanish at 
 Emilia's knee. 
 
 " But he is of a littleness," she remarked gravely, 
 "and of a queerness." Upon further reflection Ms
 
 74 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 toes alone seemed satisfactory; Doro could recog- 
 nize a human resemblance there. 
 
 In point of fact Hex was like his mother ; he had 
 dark eyes and an absurd fluff of daffodil hair. 
 
 He was, rather naturally, an extremely nervous 
 baby, and he cried incessantly, a poor, anxious little 
 cry which wrung Emilia's soft heart entirely. 
 
 " Cry, cry, cry," said Doro, " what a baby ! " 
 
 Tony saw his son for the first time a month after 
 his birth. 
 
 He came in from an inspection of the farms, 
 gaitered and booted ; he walked heavily without any 
 spring, and his face looked lethargic, his eyes dull. 
 
 He only came to the nursery now because there 
 was some question of structural alteration, and it 
 was essential he should give the matter his personal 
 attention. 
 
 He stood just within the door, unnoticed by 
 Emilia or Doro. 
 
 Francesca had adored redecorating the nursery ; 
 he remembered distinctly choosing the Hans Ander- 
 sen tiles for the fireplace at Goodes' they had 
 lunched at the Berkeley that day; a dozen unim- 
 portant details, immortalized now by their dearness 
 and very ordinariness, appealing, as perhaps only 
 things just so little and usual can appeal when the 
 opportunity of their recurrence is gone for ever, 
 thronged his memory. Fay had been wearing gar- 
 denias that day, they had had a waiter whom they 
 had known at the Carlton, the hold-up in Piccadilly
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 75 
 
 outside Devonshire House had been a record one 
 later, they had walked to Goodes', which Fay said 
 absurdly was the best-mannered shop in town be- 
 cause it opened its doors to you at your approach, 
 all of its own accord ! 
 
 What tiny, ridiculous things people who were 
 happy laughed at ! 
 
 Opposite, on the glazed and gleaming tiles the 
 little tin soldier saluted eternally. 
 
 " We must have this set look at him and think 
 of explaining him -to Eex ! " Fay had said. 
 
 Tony tramped into the room, and Doro rushed 
 at him, arms upheld, emerald-shod feet going peril- 
 ously fast. 
 
 " Up up ! " she commanded. 
 
 He lifted her in his arms, and at once she cuddled 
 an adorable cheek to his, such a cool soft touch 
 against his face, and an indefinable yet vaguely 
 consoling sense of femininity seemed to float to him 
 from a long way off, and he felt, for a second, less 
 hideously miserable. 
 
 " Hullo, old lady ! " he said to Doro, walking 
 across towards Emilia who had risen and stood 
 looking at him now with a mingling of hurt pride 
 and sorrow. Tony gazed down at his son, his own 
 face set, his mouth a bar of obstinacy. 
 
 This for her ! 
 
 Eex lifted dark lashes, and met his father's gaze 
 gravely; he had Fay's eyes exactly, dark amber, 
 translucent.
 
 76 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Retriever eyes," Tony had called them once, 
 rather pleased with his parallel, and he had added : 
 "Retrieve me anyway, anyhow, from anywhere, 
 darling ! " 
 
 He went on meeting his little son's darkly golden 
 look. 
 
 "Excellency will hold him?" Emilia suggested 
 softly ; she had transferred Rex to his father's free 
 arm before he could reply. 
 
 Tony went on looking down, remembering pain- 
 fully ; he felt none of that deep stirring he had been 
 told fathers invariably experience; only his grief 
 stirred anew, and it never rested long. 
 
 He gave Rex back to Emilia, kissed Doro and 
 went out. 
 
 It was a perfect day, a day of soft flooding light, 
 of sweet freshness ; autumn was coming, but like a 
 lover to deck his love in loveliness. 
 
 The second roses bloomed in glory, the sun drew 
 out the poignant scent from the cut box hedges. 
 
 Tony went to sit in the walled rose garden; he 
 lit his pipe, and took off his cap, and looked round 
 him ; he knew it was a lovely day, but the days, all 
 of them now, seemed so damn endless all the same. 
 
 His mind worked dully, going over and over the 
 same problem. 
 
 His life felt maimed ; the influence of Fay's death 
 was like a trap from which he could not escape ; he 
 seemed to hustle round clumsily in it, clumsily and 
 slowly, bruising himself all the while.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 77 
 
 He had a feeling he had been duped, treated with 
 inscrutable unfairness. 
 
 Since the fusion of one's identity in that of an- 
 other was a decree of life itself to ensure its com- 
 pletion, surely it was monstrous that, suddenly, for 
 no sane reason, that fusion should be broken, dis- 
 persed for ever, one life left mangled, suffering 
 horribly? The fact that this thing could be made 
 every great fact grotesque and cruel. 
 
 Extraordinary too, to think that before his mar- 
 riage he had been content! Now he was alone, a 
 single life again ; but, God ! what a difference ! His 
 mind fumbled with its grief, which seemed to cut 
 him off from all humanity. 
 
 Other people told him of their sympathy, and he 
 accepted their speech with mechanical courtesy; 
 but in his own mind he was thinking, "What do 
 you care? You'll go back to your home, you've all 
 your real interests waiting for you the minute you 
 cut clear of this forced sympathy meeting! It's 
 only a bore really having to be sorry. I used to 
 feel like that myself about other people, so I know ! " 
 
 And again, it gave him an almost jealous misery 
 to listen to other people discussing Fay. The place 
 irritated him, too, each room was a reminder. Fay 
 had been one of those women, rarer than one real- 
 izes, whose imprint lives in their home. 
 
 Many women of personality lack this gift, often 
 because decided personality induces a certain com- 
 placent little hardness ; and, strange as it may seem,
 
 78 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 you must possess a definite gentleness to be able to 
 influence your furniture ! 
 
 Fay had concentrated on her marriage, and sub- 
 merged herself in it to a great extent, and her home 
 had therefore mattered to her rather greatly. 
 
 It had been a beautiful place before she had come 
 to it, but she had made beauty comfort too; collec- 
 tions of her various small delights stamped her im- 
 pression in many rooms. Fay had adored boxes and 
 fans, she had collected tiny models of shoes from 
 every place where her own feet had rested in her 
 travels with Tony ; the boxes lovely, delicate, min- 
 iature things of shell, and enamel and jewels lay 
 about, some filled with cigarettes; the fans were 
 framed and unframed, you trod the highways and 
 cobbled parts of Europe in tiny shoes fashioned in 
 Bucharest, Madrid, Maggiore, or Biarritz. 
 
 Tony had sometimes bought a box and had never 
 failed to receive delighted thanks for his thought 
 and choice and general dearness ; but since he knew 
 nothing of boxes whatever, save as square, oblong 
 or round effects which opened and shut, and since 
 Fay's love for him had not rendered his discrimina- 
 tion sapient, the worst examples vanished dis- 
 creetly. 
 
 He sat on in the rose garden ; the shadows from 
 the avenue began to stretch out across the park, a 
 clock chimed from the stable-yard, intensifying by 
 its solitary notes the soft mournfulness of the 
 drooping sunset.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 79 
 
 A feeling of utter desolation, of depression so 
 deep it was like a smothering pall held Tony. 
 
 He had the ghastly sense : " I can't get out, I 
 can't escape. I've got to go through with it," which 
 seems to rob the soul of power to hope, of any vision 
 beyond the appalling dreariness of the moment. 
 
 Life would go on, that was all. 
 
 And people talked of that as a mercy! 
 
 Nick came out, not running, but walking; he 
 stood in a last patch of sunlight and lifted his head, 
 then steered towards Tony. 
 
 He walked up to him and sat beside him, looking 
 away. Tony stared down at him; there was some- 
 thing friendly somehow in the way his stiff white 
 coat stuck out a little above his collar. Tony called 
 his name ; Nick's .glance met his in less than a 
 second, it seemed. 
 
 Tony's hand slid down into the friendly bit of 
 Nick's back, into the tufty little spike of hair, and 
 instantly Nick pressed close against his gaitered 
 leg. 
 
 They sat together whilst the night floated from 
 the sky, veil within veil of enshrouding deep blue- 
 ness. Tony was conscious of Nick's warmth, Nick 
 instinct with that strange sympathy which only a 
 dog who loves you can feel. 
 
 He had a touch of rheumatism himself in a hind 
 leg, and the grass was growing damp, but he never 
 stirred. At last Tony got up, and Nick raised him-
 
 80 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 self very gingerly ; they began the walk back to the 
 house. 
 
 Tony said: 
 
 " I've settled it then. I shall get off as soon as I 
 can. I can't stay here. And there's nothing to keep 
 me. The children will be taken good care of. To 
 sit through the days like this to lie awake night 
 after night ... I cannot do it. It's settled, I clear."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 " Observation is the most enduring of the pleasures of life" 
 
 GEORGE MEREDITH. 
 
 AFTER he had dined Tony ordered the car and 
 drove over to " Pointers," a house on the ex- 
 treme borders of his estate, inhabited now by 
 his aunt, Mrs. Stafford, known to her own world and 
 all her relatives, by her own request, as " G." 
 
 G received him in her dining-room where she was 
 finishing dinner, as her father had finished it before 
 her, and his before him, with extremely excellent 
 port and walnuts. 
 
 She dismissed the butler, a little, sad-looking, 
 withered effect, with a wave of the hand as Tony 
 entered, and rose to greet him. 
 
 G prided herself on her freedom of speech, of life, 
 and her knowledge of mankind. 
 
 To-night she wore an evening gown which was 
 made to resemble a man's court suit, and became 
 her well. 
 
 She was slight, short, and silver-haired, and she 
 had lately had her hair cut en brosse, which, oddly 
 enough, became her. 
 
 She had magnificent dark eyes, whose darkness 
 she intensified by shadowing them with bistre 
 
 81
 
 82 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 circles ; for forty years she had used the same scent, 
 which was made for her by a French firm. She 
 greeted Tony in that style which she had affected 
 before he had been thought of, and had seen no 
 cause to alter since the event of his birth. 
 
 " Well, you poor devil ! " she said in her ex- 
 tremely attractive voice, " I bet you have come to 
 tell me you mean to clear out, and to ask me to look 
 after things for you? " 
 
 Tony said slowly : " You're right, I have." 
 
 " Bound to," G retorted, her black eyes flashing 
 with amusement. " Better have some port. No? A 
 whisky then? For God's sake drink something. The 
 men of this generation fatigue me by their incom- 
 petence. If we, or rather they, are not careful, the 
 degrading responsibility of saddling the most con- 
 servative and best-bred nation in the world with the 
 lemon-squash idiocies of upstart colonies and fer- 
 menting republics will rest on them. Your father 
 drank, and his, and his, and his, and they made you. 
 Carry on, I suggest?" 
 
 She took a box of cigars to Tony, resumed her 
 seat and said: "Well?" 
 
 " I can't stick it, G," Tony said heavily. 
 " Cowardly, if you like, I don't care. I am off. I 
 telephoned to town and found Cochran at the club ; 
 he'll go with me." 
 
 "Whereto?" 
 
 " Oh ! Africa, India ; it doesn't matter. Anywhere 
 away."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 83 
 
 " Best thing for you. Why not go my trip? The 
 one I made in '96? I have the maps, details and 
 so on." 
 
 " We might," Tony said rather vaguely. 
 G stirred her coffee. 
 
 "You had better, I think. So consider that 
 settled. Now, for my instructions." 
 " Yes, I suppose so," Tony murmured. 
 G gave a little exasperated " click." 
 " For God's sake have one decent idea, my good 
 man. The children, what do you want me to do 
 with them?" 
 
 "Emilia is trustworthy, but I wish you'd see 
 them daily, G." 
 
 " I should have done that without a suggestion 
 from you," G said tranquilly. " Your son has cer- 
 tain claims on his people, I consider." 
 
 She studied Tony's expressionless face keenly. 
 " Come along, I will play to you probably. You 
 will think that unfeeling, but in point of fact noth- 
 ing is unfeeling which serves to distract an obsessed 
 mind. On the contrary. I wish I had known you 
 were coming ; I would have sent for Lygon and that 
 good-natured imbecile Letitia, whose sole sense is a 
 card one, and we might have had a game. However, 
 its rather late now. Do not look so bovinely dis- 
 tressed ; I am aware grief is immortal, and sacred, 
 and the ' thing,' but only those to whom it is quite 
 new really believe that ! When you pull down your 
 first shot you will appreciate what I am saying.
 
 84 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 You do not believe that either, but no matter. I 
 will play you the ' Liebes Traum,' I think. Do have 
 another whisky." 
 
 Tony followed her into the drawing-room ; it was 
 rather bare, beautifully lit by reflection, and con- 
 tained a piano with Corot panels inset. 
 
 Two Sealyhams rose in a window seat, fell off it, 
 and greeted Tony. 
 
 "Amor and Psyche, be quiet," G ordered, and 
 they subsided instantly. 
 
 G took off her rings, even her wedding ring, which 
 was so thin it was a mere thread. " Why brandish 
 one's fate in the faces of others? " she had asked. 
 " It merely precludes good flirtation, and makes 
 people think you far more respectable than you 
 would ever wish to be ! " and then began to play. 
 
 She played magnificently, with power, restraint 
 and delicacy. 
 
 Tony smoked and stared at the black oak floor 
 which gleamed in the soft light, then at his aunt; 
 the music had disturbed his thoughts ; he began to 
 wonder aimlessly what G had been like in her youth, 
 which he had been told had been both triumphant 
 and devastating. He could believe it, studying her 
 profile, listening to the waves of sound caught up by 
 her frail hands and flung into space ; she had domi- 
 nance and, with it, temperament. 
 
 Abruptly, she ceased playing, and faced him. 
 
 " Now then ! I was right, hein? About the for- 
 getting? " Her eyes laughed at him.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 85 
 
 "And you feel it disloyal to forget, d'you not? 
 My dear, loyalty at its best should be a spiritual 
 and actual defence of the one we love; it should 
 never be what most people make it, and more 
 imagine it ought to be a leech-like sticking to one 
 idea, one person! Humanity has such fatiguing 
 admiration for limitation ; indeed, most of us believe 
 that only those states of being which are static are 
 praiseworthy! Change, flux, when you come to 
 think of it, is nearly always resented and derided." 
 
 She came and leant against the mantelpiece 
 directly before Tony, one extremely slender foot 
 poised on the low fender seat ; there was no tender- 
 ness in the long look she bent on him, but there was 
 very human interest; mentally she reviewed his 
 future, and did it ably : he would not marry again, 
 he would become heavier ; he had one type of nature 
 which is such a boon to Catholicism, the " accept- 
 ing" type, which canonizes gratefully; Tony had 
 already canonized Francesca. 
 
 G considered gravely the marvel of influence 
 Francesca had exercised during her lifetime ; Tony 
 had been almost interesting then, because his nature 
 had been drawn out by Francesca's ceaseless affec- 
 tion ; it seemed rather as if some natures, natures 
 of definite " grip " and vividness, could inject them- 
 selves into other less vital ones and tone them up. 
 
 Very obviously this process had ceased ; it did not 
 endure, its effect was not lasting, and really Tony 
 was rather boring.
 
 86 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Good God ! " G said to herself suddenly, " the 
 actual hideous cruelty of one human being towards 
 another ! There is this poor devil utterly up against 
 it, and because he is dull I wish that he would go. 
 I wonder if many people are as hard, or would own 
 how much of their sympathy is set to time? And, it's 
 time Tony went, indubitably ! " 
 
 He got up as she reached that thought. 
 
 " I must be off, my dear. So you'll come over and 
 see to things and so on? " 
 
 " Yes. Good-bye, m'dear." 
 
 He came back. 
 
 " I feel I am thrusting a responsibility on you, 
 G, but you are to be trusted." 
 
 " That's the one decent quality I do possess, and 
 it springs from a steel-like pride! Extraordinary 
 how many of our virtues are, as it were, caught in 
 a vice ! Good-bye again, my dear, and thank you for 
 coming to me." 
 
 She watched him start up his car, and watched 
 the last glint of his rear-light, like a scarlet star, 
 wink in the darkness and disappear as the car 
 swung into the road. 
 
 Then she lit a cigarette and walked out into the 
 garden. 
 
 Frankly, the idea of responsibility bored her ex- 
 tremely; perhaps only her pride had made her 
 accept it ; she could not be " let down " in her own 
 estimation.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 87 
 
 She wondered idly, speculating, as she often did, 
 how many people, if they were quite, quite honest, 
 did things from a purely altruistic standpoint? She 
 suspected, very few! 
 
 At any- rate, at sixty her own altruism was not 
 a sturdy growth; and instinct of noblesse oblige 
 ruled her life, served her most ably for other virtues. 
 
 The people about loved her for her generosity, 
 her friends for her wit, her relatives for her dis- 
 cretion. 
 
 There was about her that bright hardness which 
 is so often the distinguishing characteristic of those 
 favoured mortals who have never known a day's 
 illness in their lives. 
 
 G had never missed a meet, never lost a day's 
 yachting, and explored Africa. Stafford had died 
 in an effort to keep up with her, her enemies said; 
 in point of fact he had died more reasonably, and 
 had always adored his wife. Of course he had been 
 rather weak (a detail G had concealed from the 
 world) and charming, exactly the man a strong 
 woman generally marries, and then makes a success. 
 
 It had been rather impossible to make a success 
 of Stafford because he had had no desire to do any- 
 thing, so G had turned him into an explorer. 
 
 To-night, oddly enough, she thought of his death, 
 and her own first queer feeling of relief that her 
 freedom had been given back to her, that she no 
 more need order her life to keep step with another
 
 88 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 life, however desultory the march, or frequent and 
 prolonged the halts ! 
 
 They had had one son, who had died. 
 
 G let her cigarette go out ; even at sixty, with forty 
 years between that death and to-night, the wound 
 hurt. 
 
 But it brought with it the memory of Tony's boy, 
 of whom she was to take charge. 
 
 She decided she would go over the next morning. 
 
 After all, the responsibility, she thought as she 
 walked to the house, had its attraction! 
 
 In her low, wide room her maid was waiting, a 
 hard-featured but devoted woman rejoicing in the 
 wholly inappropriate name of " Sweet." She sighed 
 as G entered. 
 
 G walked to the big chair before the looking-glass 
 and sat down and held out one foot; she made no 
 comment on Sweet's obvious depression, evidenced 
 by smothered sighs and darkest looks, as she drew 
 off the black satin shoes with their scarlet heels and 
 produced a pair of purple monies, leant back and 
 sniffed prodigiously, an air of relentless confidence 
 on her face. 
 
 " Very sad. I agree with you," G said briefly. 
 
 Sweet cast at her mistress that glance of resigned 
 bitterness which springs from a sense of defrauded- 
 ness, the knowledge that someone knows beforehand 
 what we meant to tell them en surprise later ! 
 
 She kept silence.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 89 
 
 G felt a little wry amusement; Sweet was 
 actually " playing up." 
 
 " Get me out of this kit quickly, and then you can 
 leave me. I can manage," she said pleasantly. 
 
 Sweet flung an agonized glance at the raftered 
 ceiling. Was every gloomiest joy thus to be snapped 
 from her? Never! 
 
 As she began to hang up the black velvet dress 
 she moaned clearly, turned, and ejaculated pro- 
 foundly : 
 
 " Motherless fatherless " 
 
 " Sisterless brotherless in this case too/' G 
 agreed. She had often felt that Bernhardt had lost 
 a pupil in Sweet. 
 
 " Crooil crooil hard, mam," Sweet went on in 
 determined abandonment. "Where, I ask myself 
 in all 'umility, are 'is lordship's father's feelings? " 
 
 "Vested in me for the time being," G said blandly. 
 
 Sweet's stricken countenance underwent a 
 marked change ; caution replaced despair ; curiosity 
 pity. 
 
 " Do I understand you to mean, mam, that, so to 
 speak, 'is lordship's little son and adopted child 
 will be settlin' here? " 
 
 G very nearly exclaimed with perfect natural- 
 less, " God forbid," but checked herself in time. 
 
 Instead, mellifluously, she told Sweet that Provi- 
 dence walked in varied ways. What would be, would 
 be ; and added, that all things worked together for 
 good if a household staff were adaptable.
 
 90 ALMOND BLOSSOM 
 
 Sweet, gathering up a pile of ribbons and muslin, 
 halted at the door. 
 
 " I wish you good night, mam," she said lugubri- 
 ously; "if so be you can enjoy rest, the future 
 loomin' before you." 
 
 G, drawing a novel towards her, was not certain 
 she had won the day ; the future certainly "loomed/' 
 
 In spirit she raised her hat to Sweet.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 " Happy hearts and happy faces, 
 Happy play in grassy places 
 That was how, in ancient ages, 
 Children grew to kings and sages. 
 
 " But the unkind and the unruly, 
 And the sort who eat unduly, 
 They must never hope for glory ; 
 Theirs is quite a different story! " 
 
 R. L. S. 
 
 WHEN G discovered, some months after Ms 
 father's departure, that Rex was very 
 slightly crippled, she cabled to Tony for 
 his instructions ; when none came she began to pil- 
 grimage to famous surgeons. 
 
 In her code it was a thing unforgivable, it should 
 have been impossible, for one of the family to be 
 maimed, for the stock to have a blemish. The idea 
 was repugnant and humiliating, and paradoxically 
 it awoke in her the strongest emotion she had ever 
 known ; there sprang up for Rex a love which had 
 never bloomed for any other living being, even her 
 own son. 
 
 Patiently, tirelessly, she journeyed with Rex and 
 Emilia and Doro to Paris, New York, Geneva, 
 Berlin, Copenhagen, in search of some man who 
 
 91
 
 92 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 could make a tiny crooked limb straight, and she 
 would have travelled to Thibet had she received 
 assurance that the miracle could be performed 
 there. 
 
 Of Tony she had no news ; occasionally a message 
 came from him containing no information, save a 
 rough indication of his whereabouts probably two 
 months earlier. G bothered not at all about him; 
 he would return ; the " code " allowed the men of 
 the family to roam; they invariably came back to 
 Hurstpoint; the code decreed that they should. 
 
 When Hex was eight and had been seen by, and 
 made firm friends with, about a dozen most eminent 
 surgeons of the day, they returned en famille to 
 settle down at home. 
 
 " An' a good thing too," Doro said. " I can ride 
 now, can't I, G? " 
 
 " Naturally," G agreed. 
 
 But she had not bargained for a vision of her 
 adopted relative seated on a pony which bucked the 
 very first morning of their arrival, stable-boys and 
 grooms in hot pursuit, and Doro's head upflung, her 
 face extremely white, her green eyes blazing with 
 terrified yet glorious excitement. . 
 
 G and Jlex watched her; G secretly trembling a 
 little, Emilia openly wailing. 
 
 The pony bucked down the avenue; a groom 
 approached him, and he went off at a gallop. 
 
 Doro sat well back, her small hands gripping the
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 93 
 
 rough mane, her own curls blown back like a dark 
 flame. 
 
 "Gad!" G told herself, "if I didn't know the 
 child had no breeding, I should swear she had ! " 
 
 Doro landed almost at her feet, and faced her 
 instantly. 
 
 " You said ' naturally ' when I asked," she stated. 
 She was visibly trembling, but she stood her ground. 
 
 Emilia caught her up in her arms, and began to 
 kiss her wildly. 
 
 " Put Miss Doro down," G commanded instantly. 
 She held out her veined, slender hand to Doro. 
 
 "From to-day you will ride with a groom and 
 leading rein, my dear." 
 
 " I adore you," Doro replied intensely. She had 
 heard Pasquale Greville say that to G, and had seen 
 her smile; besides, she was grateful and wanted to 
 say so, and particularly, say it rightly. 
 
 "TJhank you," G responded as gravely. "You 
 had better let Emilia undress and bathe you now. 
 When you are ready let her bring you to Rex and 
 me on the terrace." 
 
 Greville, home on a brief leave, and amused by 
 G, was staying at the house; he strolled on to the 
 terrace now, his head gleaming in the sunshine, a 
 cigarette between Ips lips. 
 
 " Where have you been? " G asked him. 
 
 " In the library." 
 
 " You missed a rather enjoyable and quite nerve- 
 devastating sight. Doro managed to mount one of
 
 94 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 the ponies and rode it down the avenue the beast 
 bucked badly; she did not fall." 
 
 " I wish I had seen that," Greville agreed, " a 
 thoroughly good sight. One imagines, G, that child 
 will be a personality some day. No nerves, superb 
 health, green eyes, and made rather like a mythical 
 being, so straightly and fairly. What will you bet, 
 my dear, that she won't fashion life? " 
 
 " It is a pity she is not of our blood," G returned 
 rather absently. 
 
 Doro appeared, walking towards them; she had 
 on a little holland frock and white socks with black 
 strap shoes ; she looked innocuous, extremely pretty 
 and marvellously clean, the typical good child of 
 the fairy tale. 
 
 " Hullo, Alice," Greville called, " come here ! " 
 
 She went obediently and, leaning against him,, 
 bent to smell the tiny gloire de Dijon in his button- 
 hole. " I hear you have been very enterprising." 
 
 " What does that mean? " 
 
 " Oh, courageous and adventurous, daring, in 
 your understanding." 
 
 " That's a good deal to make one word mean," 
 Doro said. " Do you pay it extra? " 
 
 Greville was delighted with her quickness ; he had 
 called her " Alice," but he had not expected her to 
 know her " Looking Glass " so well, even had she 
 caught the allusion. 
 
 " I think I should win my bet? " he remarked to 
 G over Doro's head.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 95 
 
 "A good memory proves very little," G said, 
 rather tartly. " The dullest people often have one, 
 and take it to themselves to glory, and even seem to 
 consider it an achievement. Why ! Heaven knows ! 
 Since it is mostly a matter of chance, like having a 
 squint or the wrong sort of speaking voice; you 
 either have it or you haven't, despite all this craze 
 for mental exercises to strengthen the memory, 
 which of course only benefit people who have one 
 already, and for them to pay a fee for such a pur- 
 pose is on a par to my way of thinking with 
 thanking your feet for walking! However, evolu- 
 tion, I suppose, and it helps the mania for self- 
 analysis a most dangerous interest, I consider ; as 
 if everyone of us, if we ever do confess honestly, 
 did not spend all our spare time concentrating on 
 ourselves ! And now to invent excuses to enable one 
 to do it more intensively ! Psycho-analysis will be 
 the ruin of quick living (the only way to live) and 
 nice slow thinking that never hampered your action 
 at all! And those things have kept the world a 
 pretty decent place up to now, take it all in all! 
 Meddling with instincts, focusing any interest on 
 'em is a mistake, believe me. Dissection only serves 
 one purpose, the growth of practical knowledge, and 
 one's instincts, like the origin of fire, will for ever 
 remain an eternal mystery. And should do. 'Pon 
 my soul, it's a relief to me to think there is some- 
 thing that can't be explained by science or 
 muddled up by it."
 
 96 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Her eyes rested almost tragically on Hex as he 1 
 ran across to Doro. 
 
 "One is expected to grant science supernatural 
 power, and it has not yet discovered how to 
 straighten a crooked.limb ! " 
 
 Greville stirred; like all men of his type, any 
 emotion of a distressing nature vaguely annoyed 
 him. 
 
 " Rex's limb .will not handicap him," he said in- 
 differently. "He is quite a decent height for his 
 age he will probably grow tall, like all of us and 
 he is a good-looking little beggar." 
 
 Rex turned towards them as he spoke; he was 
 standing on the terrace steps and his deformity was 
 concealed ; the sun poured over him, making his fair 
 hair a cap of gleaming gold, throwing into his dark 
 eyes little golden dancing reflections. 
 
 G's mouth softened as she looked at him, quivered 
 a very little; and she said with determination: 
 " Special stirrups of course, and so on. One .can 
 arrange everything." 
 
 "Is he at all nervous?" Greville asked perfunc- 
 torily. There was in his voice none of the amused 
 pleasure it had held whilst he had spoken of Doro ; 
 intuitively he resented Rex's shortened limb; such 
 a thing offended his sense of the beautiful which he 
 had cultivated until it had become of a diseased 
 fastidiousness. 
 
 He had that vague contempt for Rex some people
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 97 
 
 always feel with regard to any oddity in life or 
 humanity. 
 
 G laughed lightly derisively. 
 
 " My dear Pan ! " 
 
 The tone, the laugh, stirred Greville's vanity, 
 never a heavy sleeper; he was used to quiescence 
 from women, young or old. 
 
 He said now, his beautiful eyes half closed, a 
 faint smile on his lips : 
 
 " Doro's stunt would have been rather beyond 
 him, alas ! " 
 
 " Doro is nearly three years older than Kex," G 
 said in the sharp voice of hurt age. She rose and 
 went to Rex and took his hand and walked away 
 with him, keeping him on the side of her farthest 
 from Greville's vision. 
 
 Rex went with her gaily ; he adored her, had no 
 fear of her whatever; there was between them the 
 strangest, strongest companionship and genuine 
 love. 
 
 Perhaps because of his poor foot, perhaps merely 
 owing to the very forceful impression of herself, her 
 views, G left on people, Rex was, without being 
 precocious, or even advanced, extremely under- 
 standing. 
 
 He was still a very little boy, but he had a natural 
 sweetness, a rather penetrating sweetness somehow, 
 and all the reckless delightfulness of childhood, 
 allied to a mentality intensely stimulated by G, and
 
 98 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 one which had received a good deal of assistance 
 towards development from his wandering life. 
 
 G had taught him to read very early, and, at the 
 age of eight and a half he read as he chose and his 
 choice was decidedly interesting ; he adored horses 
 and had a great love of boxing, and had read nearly 
 every old book in the big library on both subjects. 
 And he adored fairy stories too and funny long tales 
 out of the old "Household Words," which filled one 
 shelf. 
 
 His speech was polyglot, and the more attractive 
 because it was so ; Emilia talked to him in Spanish, 
 G often spoke French; Kex used bits of either 
 language. He had a certain very charming clear- 
 ness of enunciation and deliberation in his speech 
 which gave an odd, rather dear little effect of 
 dignity. 
 
 Perhaps this had been fostered by G's insistence 
 that he should, directly he was old enough, take his 
 own position in the house ; she had explained to him 
 that he represented his father and that to do so wag 
 a distinction. Rex, like every child, loved playing a 
 part, and secretly enjoyed his role enormously. 
 Entirely normal, despite his collection of attributes, 
 he had days of devilishness like every other small 
 boy, and very usual needs and " wants." 
 
 To-day Doro's spirited performance had naturally 
 made him long to go and do likewise. 
 
 He said so.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 99 
 
 " G? " 
 
 " Yes, darling." 
 
 " I too should like to ride, I think, hein? " 
 
 G's hold on his hand tightened for a moment. 
 
 " You are not quite big enough." 
 
 " I could have a very little pony, my darling, the 
 littlest ever." 
 
 He had a store of what he called " dear words " 
 which he used solely for G, and for which loyalty, in 
 her heart, she worshipped him. 
 
 She looked down and met his eyes, determined, 
 very clear and hopeful. 
 
 "You do not think you would be frightened, 
 Rex? " 
 
 " Doro wasn't." 
 
 " Doro is older." 
 
 " Do you think that matters, my love? If I would 
 be frightened, I 'spect I'll be it later on just as easily 
 as now." 
 
 He stopped and stood before her, and said with 
 eager earnestness : 
 
 " Let's just just take a very little look at the 
 stables, shall we? " 
 
 It was noon, the stable-yard was hot and empty, 
 the pleasant sound of water rushing somewhere 
 above broke the silence. 
 
 " This is where Rufus lives," Kex announced. 
 " He is no end of a devil, Sam says." 
 
 G laughed. She opened Rufus's door and went in 
 to him ; back went his sleek little ears, he shivered,
 
 100 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 the whites of his wicked beautiful eyes showed for a 
 second. 
 
 " Put me up, put me up, G," Rex begged, shiver- 
 ing, too, with excitement, his eyes blazing, his 
 yellow hair ruffled by an impatient hand. 
 
 G lifted him easily, but she was short, and Rex 
 was not very big; he caught at Rufus's mane and 
 tugged himself on to his back. Rufus lashed out 
 with temper, but G, to whom fear was a thing un- 
 known, never moved, though about her there seemed 
 a welter of little, vicious gleaming hoofs and white- 
 rimmed, angry eyes. 
 
 But Rex screamed once, and as if it had been a 
 command, Rufus stopped kicking and was still. 
 
 G lifted Rex down ; neither spoke ; in the stable- 
 yard Greville was standing; he had been watching 
 with Doro. G's face coloured very slowly, very 
 faintly; she met Greville's smile. 
 
 "Ah! you here? Hot, isn't it? And surely it 
 must be nearly lunch-time? " 
 
 Rex's hand was quivering, and unclasping within 
 hers. Greville looked at his wrist-watch ; then his 
 amused glance rested on his small nephew. 
 
 " Still frightened? " he asked. 
 
 " No," Rex said. His voice shook a very little. 
 
 Greville laughed. 
 
 " Doro will have to teaeh you," he said teasingly ; 
 " she is brave, anyway ! " 
 
 Rex went on looking quite directly at Mm, but 
 his face flushed vividly.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 101 
 
 He loosed G's hand as Greville finished speaking, 
 and sprang awkwardly straight at him. 
 
 " You you beast/' he said chokingly. 
 
 There was a second's utter silence ; G's voice cut 
 into it imperiously : 
 
 " Hex, apologize to your uncle at once." 
 
 Kex turned to her, his lips opened, shut again. 
 G's eyes, dominant to. all the rest of the world, 
 appealed to him ; the colour drained slowly from his 
 face. 
 
 He said in his quietest voice : 
 
 " I 'pologize, Uncle Pan." 
 
 He waited a second, then alone, walked across the 
 big yard through the high gates and on towards the 
 house. 
 
 (r, after a moment, followed him slowly. 
 
 Doro looked at Greville, considering him gravely. 
 
 "You were a beast, you know," she said tran- 
 quilly. " Boys hate to be laughed at before girls. 
 So do men." 
 
 " Do they indeed ! Why, I wonder? " 
 
 " 'Cos they are so vain," Doro said indifferently. 
 
 "And how do you know that, Mademoiselle 
 'Sagesse? " 
 
 " G said so ; I heard her tell Lord Doneymore in 
 Paris, that old thin, little man with the moustaches 
 like tiny white swords, who laughed in a wheeze. 
 An' he said being vain made you it's a long word, 
 but G said it means get-at-able, and if men weren't 
 so vain, women would have a slow time. Why? "
 
 102 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Greville, since his stay at Hurstpoint, had begun 
 to cultivate towards the word " why " that feeling 
 of helplessly enraged irritation occasioned in the 
 soul by the presence of an active mosquito when you 
 long to sleep, and cannot catch the insect, and are 
 powerless to resist it. 
 
 " Why? " Doro asked again. 
 
 Greville appealed for heavenly assistance in two 
 words. 
 
 " God knows," he said. 
 
 " Yes, He knows everything," Doro returned 
 sapiently. " Mustn't it be queer never to have to 
 wonder, and course He can't if He always knows. 
 Should you like being like that, Pan? " 
 
 She had called him Pan from the very first. 
 
 The luncheon gong boomed deeply from the 
 house. 
 
 Doro danced up and down. 
 
 " T.G. food ! Kace you to the terrace, Pan 
 darlin'?" 
 
 " Oh, I've a bone in my leg," Greville protested 
 basely. 
 
 " So have I, so's everyone, lots." 
 
 She let clear, kindly contempt rest on him for 
 that old prevarication. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, come on ! " 
 
 Laughing, he raced, and asked Doro as they 
 reached the house who allowed her to say fool? 
 
 "Everyone says it," Doro returned blithely.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 103 
 
 " Emilia and G, and Hex and me, you often, I've 
 heard you." 
 
 She danced into the hall where lunch was laid on 
 a round table in one of the big window embrasures, 
 and gave a shriek of joy. 
 
 " Duck oh, duck how heavenly ! Lots of 
 stuffin', please, Wyckham," she commanded the 
 butler, " and get a move on, too, please." 
 
 G corrected her, laughed, damned the apple sauce. 
 
 The children at their lunch drank sherry in 
 special little glasses; G had drunk sherry in her 
 childhood, and had still, as she phrased it, the palate 
 of a gourmande and the digestion of an ostrich! 
 Two facts which proved to her conclusive satisfac- 
 tion that her upbringing was worthy of imitation. 
 
 Rex, at the head of the table, looked pale but 
 composed ; he was deadly polite to Greville. 
 
 He was just a little boy in a thousand ways, but 
 in one or two others he was extraordinarily ad- 
 vanced, and he had been encouraged to exercise his 
 intuition. Now, sitting at the head of his table, G 
 facing him at the other end, he watched his guest 
 with steady, dark eyes, and hated him. From that 
 day he resented Greville in his life and despised 
 him. 
 
 For his vanity had not been hurt, but his trust in 
 the decency of those grown-ups who belonged to 
 him, and should therefore have been generous, had 
 been destroyed in the case of Greville for ever by 
 his taunt.
 
 104 ALMOND-BLOSSOM j 
 
 "I was afraid, but I did stick on," Hex told 
 himself. 
 
 From that day he never willingly stayed with 
 Greville, or talked closely with him. 
 
 To-day his funny little dignity, which can make a 
 child so unapproachable, visibly surrounded him. 
 
 He had the quaintest, yet quite natural, old- 
 fashioned manners, severe and stately, inculcated 
 by G, and now he sat at lunch with his kinsman 
 when G and Doro had left, waiting with patient 
 courtesy until Greville should have drunk his 
 cognac and coffee, when he would be free to go. 
 
 "What are you doing this afternoon?" Greville 
 asked him idly. 
 
 "I don't know," Eex answered ; like all children he 
 detested questions. 
 
 " Going to read drive ? " 
 
 I don't think so." 
 
 " Doesn't anyone plan your time for you? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Rex's composure, which Greville chose to con- 
 sider merely conceit, a result of having been badly 
 spoilt, irritated him obscurely; he knew, with the 
 quick intuition of vanity, he had lost ground with 
 Rex, and he felt resentment against Rex for having 
 put him in a position to do so. 
 
 Behind, on the terrace, invisible to Rex, a figure 
 halted a man's; he walked towards the window. 
 Greville's eyes expressed a second's intense sur- 
 prise ; then he said, very languidly :
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 105 
 
 " Ah, Tony ! " and to Eex, " Your father." 
 
 Eex wheeled on the instant, his small face, dead 
 white with excitement, gazed into the dark one of 
 the man before him. 
 
 He was a highly-strung boy; he hesitated, then 
 flushed scarlet, then advanced. 
 
 " I I am Eex, your son," he said. 
 
 Tony bent down and picked him up ; then oddly, 
 awkwardly, set him on his feet again very quickly. 
 
 " Tell the people I am back, will you, Pasquale? " 
 he said in a curiously slow voice. 
 
 Greville left the room ; Tony and Rex were alone 
 together. 
 
 Tony sat down suddenly. 
 
 " Gome here," he said to Eex. 
 
 Eex went unhesitatingly and stood between his 
 knees, a small hand on each; the two looked long 
 at one another. 
 
 " You didn't didn't write much," Eex said. 
 
 " No, I suppose not." 
 
 Eex struggled to make conversation. 
 
 "Am I like the son you you thought I would 
 be?" 
 
 " You're damn like her" Tony said heavily. 
 
 His utterance was almost uncouth ; he had lived 
 alone so long that speech had become a rare thing 
 with him. All the years he had spoken but when he 
 had been forced to do so ; for the last four years he 
 had been the only white man within a radius of a 
 hundred miles.
 
 106 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He had come home because an epidemic had 
 broken out in his district; he had given his house 
 as a hospital, and watched men die by the score. 
 
 He had not intended to return even when he had 
 left Saiwunga ; but he had trekked to a port, and a 
 boat had been leaving, and he had found several 
 letters of G's, and he had thought he might as well 
 go back for a little. 
 
 London had terrified him, he had become blunted ; 
 but fear had pierced his heavy armour of insensi- 
 bility, and he had fled, as one possessed, haunted, 
 to Hurstpoint. 
 
 He~felt nothing now save a dull perplexity. G 
 came in, a bright spot of colour on either thin cheek, 
 and after one swift glance at him, greeted him quite 
 casually. 
 
 " You haven't lunched? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Ah ! I'll have some sent in at once." 
 
 Wyckham came in with the tray, and nearly wept 
 with joy to see his master, but Kexford merely 
 nodded, muttered the man's name; the welcome 
 petered out, because a little ridiculous. 
 
 Rexford ate and drank largely; the household 
 tip-toed to the door, eager, glad ; he nodded to them, 
 too, inarticulately. 
 
 " What a Shavian rendering of the wanderer's 
 return ! " Greville murmured with malicious amuse- 
 ment.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 107 
 
 He was genuinely amused, but G was not; the 
 code demanded no hysterical ebullition, naturally, 
 when a member of the clan came home, but such a 
 return . . . ! 
 
 She faced Tony across Ms own table, a cigarette 
 in her hand, her dark eyes glowing. 
 
 " Antony, please listen." 
 
 " I am," he said, in the same stocky, almost stupid 
 way. 
 
 " Then take heed ! Your position demands certain 
 things ; one is consideration to those you employ. I 
 beg you to show it. You had better make a little 
 speech of thanks for their welcome." 
 
 " Why? " 
 
 G brought a clenched hand down on the dark 
 wood table. 
 
 " Decency of feeling ; your sense of responsi- 
 bility." 
 
 " Eot ! " Tony said lethargically. 
 
 She looked closely at him ; this man was the real 
 man, she sensed that in the instant ; appeal would 
 be useless. 
 
 She rose and went to the window, tears of grief 
 and a sharp humiliation in her eyes ; she could not 
 have described her feelings, but she knew they were 
 poignant and pathetic. 
 
 She turned to look again at Tony ; all his fine air 
 of athleticism had gone; he, like his mind, had 
 thickened ; it was almost as if some invisible coat- 
 ing had been welded over him, not quite effacing,
 
 108 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 but dimming all the old features of his personality ; 
 he was not obese, but he looked dully, solid, and his 
 face was burnt, and the whites of his eyes perma- 
 nently bloodshot by the sun, his thick hair looked 
 lifeless, his fingers broad-tipped and uncared for. 
 
 Of course, his clothes were grotesque, but that 
 could be remedied. 
 
 "And the rest?" G asked herself wretchedly. 
 " For now I shall not be expected to stay, and the 
 children Rex and his father " 
 
 She clasped her hands in sudden impotence ; her 
 age seemed to crowd upon her in that moment ; she 
 felt the weight of the years for the first time. 
 
 She wheeled suddenly. 
 
 " Antony," she said almost desperately. 
 
 He rose and crossed to her. 
 
 " What's up, G, my dear? " 
 
 " Antony, what do you mean to do? " 
 
 " To do? " 
 
 " Now you are home ; now that you will have the 
 children to educate? " 
 
 " They'll be all right, won't they? I noticed the 
 boy's right foot. Odd. A pity." 
 
 G laughed that she might not cry. 
 
 "Oh, yes," she said, controlling her voice with 
 difficulty, a vision of those wearying pilgrimages to 
 one surgeon after another trailing through her tired 
 mind, " oh, yes, but Doro is all right ! " 
 
 " Good. I'd better see her, hadn't I? " 
 
 " I'll ring for her to come down."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 109 
 
 They waited in silence for Doro's appearance. 
 
 She came in quickly, her eyes saw Rexford in- 
 stantly ; she stood for a second poised on her narrow 
 feet, her eyes wide, brilliant, her lips parted a little. 
 
 Then, with a swallow's dart, she had reached him, 
 was clinging to him, calling his name : " Tony, 
 Tony," rapturously. 
 
 She drew herself upright by clutching at his coat 
 and looked into his face. 
 
 "You've come back! Oh, heavenly! G, isn't it 
 booful lovely; oh ! Tony, aren't you glad to see me? 
 Yes, yes, you must be ; oh, Tony, I love you." 
 
 Tony's stolid face broke a little, he smiled. 
 
 "Kiss me quick fast," Doro commanded; she 
 rubbed her cheek to his. " Goodness you are all 
 prickly! Is that bein' abroad? Do you grow like 
 that? Tony, I can ride; I did, didn't I, G? And, 
 Tony, I can speak in French and sing it. Oh, I love 
 you darlin', dear." 
 
 G left them together, her heart, jealous for Eex, 
 contracting with bitterness. As she went she heard 
 Tony laugh, a sort of dull roar . . . but no one else 
 had won a smile from him. . . . 
 
 And soon they were walking, Doro and he, to- 
 gether in the park. 
 
 Rex came up to G. 
 
 "Fathers are strange people," he said, rumina- 
 tively. " Of course, I do not remember mine, G, but 
 he seems very, very unfatherlike, don't you think?
 
 110 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 'Course Doro knew him before, that makes a 
 difference." 
 
 He stood watching the big figure and the little 
 white-clad one casting shadows on the brilliant 
 grass. 
 
 " It'll be odd to have one always about the place," 
 he remarked at length, speaking of a father much as 
 one would of a wheel-chair, or any other mechanical 
 device, and suddenly his arms went round G's neck ; 
 he clung to her with the passionate abandonment a 
 child can feel when it is unhappy. 
 
 " We never liked s'prises, did we? " he whis- 
 pered; "you always said, darlin', they were a 
 mistake."
 
 CHAPTEK VII 
 
 " Oh, grown-ups cannot understand, 
 And grown-ups never will, 
 How short's the way to fairyland 
 Across the purple hill. . . . 
 . . . And yet at just a child's command 
 The world's an Eden still/ " 
 
 ALFRED NOYES. 
 
 IN his own rooms memory assailed Tony. The 
 insidious spell of the house which had roofed 
 his ancestors, which had come down to him as a 
 heritage, began to make itself evident ; he had again 
 that old satisfying feeling of " belonging " some- 
 where, the feeling which will call a man from happi- 
 ness, riches, the farthest place on earth. Tony had 
 never known he had missed his house, but he knew 
 it now. 
 
 He leant far out of the window in his bedroom, 
 and the scent of the earth came to him and made 
 him draw his breath sharply ; the ivy rustled in the 
 night wind; that disembodied feeling which it is 
 possible to experience after a fresh shock, complete 
 change from one place to another, possessed him ; 
 he was able to contrast, as if he passed from one 
 land to the other, the clearing he had called home in 
 Saiwunga, and this real home. He could still see the 
 grass growing like spears, glittering in the blazing 
 
 ill *
 
 112 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 moonlight; still hear the jungle cries, faint, mys- 
 teriously eerie ; here, the roses blew in the starshine, 
 and the bells chimed over the fields. 
 
 But even in this tranquillity he did not find com- 
 plete satisfaction ; he had been robbed of the near- 
 ness of immediate association, and as one can feel 
 an illogical regret upon saying good-bye, when in 
 reality one is aware one will experience a genuine 
 relief directly the actual separation has taken place, 
 so now Tony felt almost an aggrieved sense of for- 
 lornness. He walked about the room ; there was a 
 picture of Francesca on the walls, and below it a 
 portrait of Eex. 
 
 He stared into Francesca's face. 
 
 He had not forgotten, but he had not, during the' 
 last year, remembered very much. 
 
 He was seven years older ; he found himself think. 
 ing how pretty she had been "pretty as paint." 
 . . . His mind stirred unhappily. 
 
 What was the good of remembering? 
 
 Besides, he had cultivated a knack of slamming 
 down a little door in his mind on all thoughts that 
 bothered. He slammed it now. 
 
 If one did not, memories of loneliness assailed 
 one, and they were hideous. 
 
 Even with the door slammed ghosts crept some- 
 times. 
 
 He stared out at the softly shadowed park, above 
 which the star-jewelled sky hung like a benison.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 113 
 
 He would take on the farms, run the place, live 
 for it. 
 
 During the voyage home he had planned the 
 future that way; it was a relief to find he could 
 pursue his purpose. 
 
 A thought of Pasquale drifted across his mind: 
 odd that he still felt as he did towards him. 
 
 Pan did not fit, that was it; it would be decent 
 to see old Charles again sometimes. His life abroad 
 seemed to have loosed him from all sense of respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 Greville said of him to G, maliciously smiling : 
 
 " As an example of a broken heart, Tony is rather 
 disillusioning, what?" 
 
 " He is atrophied," G returned quickly. " It is 
 a tragedy, Pan, but I fail to find it an amusing one." 
 
 Her whole mind was absorbed by the thought of 
 the future, Hex's first, then Doro's, for she had a 
 genuine regard for her; she would naturally sug- 
 gest her own departure at an early date, and the 
 idea -of Hex, dependent on Tony for every interest, 
 was poignantly distressing. 
 
 All through the summer night she lay awake and 
 worried. With the morning sleep came, and hardly 
 had it come, it seemed to poor G, than Eex arrived 
 also. 
 
 Eegularly, each morning, he accompanied her cup 
 of tea. 
 
 To-day, he sat with bare feet, clad in his pyjamas, 
 and " poured out."
 
 114 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " I love the ' seentiness ' of your room, darling," 
 he said conversationally; "it smells like you do, 
 sandal-woody and bunches of flowers." 
 
 He climbed down and limped to G's dressing- 
 table and gravely sprayed himself from an atomizer 
 containing jasmine perfume. 
 
 " I like you looking the same in bed as up, too," 
 he remarked. "Emilia's an awful hidjus-uggy in 
 bed." 
 
 "Hidjus-uggy" was a word the children had 
 made. It belonged to the " Mck " language and was 
 entirely understood. 
 
 " Keally," G said absently. 
 
 " Yes, really ; she has paper hair things, but you 
 look darlin'." 
 
 " You flatter me ! " 
 
 "Well, you like it, my love, don't you?" Rex 
 inquired carelessly, taking a spoon carefully round 
 the jam-dish. 
 
 G laughed with pleasure in him ; he was so sweet, 
 and queer, and natural. 
 
 He looked up, licking the spoon enjoyabiy. 
 
 "That's better," he said a little inarticulately. 
 " I love you laughin', your eyes go like black stars." 
 
 "Ever seen a black star?" G asked, pretending 
 to study a letter. 
 
 " No, but I can think them." 
 
 " D'you think many things like black stars? " 
 
 " 'Bout Doro and you I do. Doro's darlin' to look 
 at, too."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 115 
 
 " My friend, you begin early ! " 
 
 " Early what? Can I have that bit of toast? " 
 
 " Yes ; but you will spoil your own breakfast." 
 
 " Yes; but it isn't toast and this sort of jam, so 
 it doesn't matter." 
 
 He slid forward a little when he had finished the 
 toast, and leant his head back on G's shoulder ; the 
 adorable littleness and trust of him swept over her 
 in a wave of tenderness. 
 
 " What made you choose this cherry-pie coloured 
 silky thing? " he asked, pulling the fringe of G's 
 dressing-jacket. " An' have a bow that colour in 
 your hair, all done up? " 
 
 G laughed again. 
 
 " Darling, I am old, as old as old, but just the 
 same I want to seem as nice as I did when I was 
 very young. In fact, I wish more earnest than I did 
 then, to seem nice! One ought to . . .we all 
 ought. Y'know, Eex, one's body is a temple in a 
 way, and we are expected to keep it fair. My way 
 of keeping mine so is to have the scents you love, and 
 cherry-pie coloured ribbons and so on as a decora- 
 tion, d'you see? " 
 
 Hex stretched luxuriously. 
 
 "A temple," he echoed meditatively, wriggling 
 his toes, and studying them. " G, what are my 
 decorations? " 
 
 G considered him : stumped again by the devilish 
 ingenuity of childhood to bowl " googlies " in the 
 question line!
 
 116 ALMOND-BLOS'SOM 
 
 "Well, you rather liked your overcoat," she 
 hazarded, "and that tie we bought in Paris the 
 deep blue silk one." 
 
 A bell rang. 
 
 Rex sat up and slid an arm about G's neck. 
 
 " I must be goin', my love," his face very close to 
 hers ; they kissed, and he leant a cheek on her silver 
 hair close to the lilac bow. 
 
 " I do love you, G." 
 
 "And I you." 
 
 He released her and scrambled free. 
 
 " That's all right then. I guess my little temple's 
 going to be scrubbed now." 
 
 G laughed at him with tears in her eyes. 
 
 "I guess it is. Afterwards, decorate it for my 
 sake, with the white flannel suit and Paris tie." 
 
 "All right, darlin'." He went off at a limping 
 run, shouting for Emilia. 
 
 Sweet came in to dress G, her lugubrious face 
 gloomier than ever. 
 
 " There'll be sad changes now, mam," she re- 
 marked with relish. 
 
 In her heart she was intensely sorry for her mis- 
 tress, but Sweet's nature was so constituted that 
 any sorrow was its greatest pleasure ; just as certain 
 people really only enjoy singing burial hymns and 
 would rather attend a funeral than a matinee. 
 
 To-day she thought G looked her age, and it was 
 not often she did that. She handed a lip-stick to 
 her mistress (G's sole "aid," with the exception of
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 117 
 
 the bistre shadows), and watched with sympathy 
 for once whilst it was applied. Its use was generally 
 reserved for evenings, so Sweet recognized the 
 portent. 
 
 "Well may we ask ourselves, mam, what the 
 future holds now?," she suggested. 
 
 "Why?" G snapped. 
 
 "'Is lordship back, so different, so strangely 
 h'altered." 
 
 "His lordship had a terrible blow in her lady- 
 ship's death." 
 
 " There's few 'as memories so faithful, mam. It 
 should be a comfort to us to find it." 
 
 She began to brush G's thick, silver hair, punc- 
 tuating the even strokes of the brush with comments 
 on life at Hurstpoint and in general. 
 
 " Plans will be changed life do seem strange 
 a'most like a sleeper wakened seven years gone. 
 'Is lordship's fleshier, mam what, I ask meself, 
 'appens now? Wanderers again " 
 
 " Sweet, be quick," G ordered with asperity. Pre- 
 cisely the same question Sweet had asked had been 
 tormenting her. 
 
 What was to happen now? 
 
 Would Tony ask her to remain as chatelaine of 
 his house? Once she could have counted on his con- 
 sideration; now he seemed to have forgotten the 
 meaning of the word. 
 
 She must broach the subject that morning ; if the 
 worst came to the worst Pointers was not very far j
 
 118 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Eex could come over and see her often. But she 
 would miss him in the morning, and at evening time 
 and all time, she confessed wretchedly to herself. 
 
 She walked into the dining-room to find Tony 
 seated there with Doro : Greville breakfasted in his 
 own room. 
 
 " Tony says I can ride to-day," Doro burst out, 
 " and he'll teach me to drive and hunt. T.G., you've 
 come home, Tony darling ! " 
 
 After breakfast, when Rex's tutor, the vicar's 
 boy, down for long vacation, had taken him off with 
 Doro, G approached Tony definitely. 
 
 " It will be wiser to have an understanding," she 
 said. 
 
 Pan had already " given notice " ; he was leaving 
 for town that day en route for " Heaven knows 
 where or perhaps not Heaven ! " 
 
 " Very probably not," G had agreed .drily. 
 
 Tony offered no comment, made no suggestion; 
 at last, dignified in her driven forlornness, G spoke 
 of returning to Pointers. 
 
 " I'll take you over," Tony said. 
 
 She looked at him in dumb amazement ; for seven 
 years more than seven years actually she had 
 sacrificed her entire life to Tony's interests, Tony's 
 children ; it is true that his agent and bailiffs had 
 managed the estate, but she had had to superintend 
 their activities. 
 
 And of course with regard to Doro and Rex. . . . 
 She remembered that evening years before, whet
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 119 
 
 Tony had come to Pointers to ask her help, and she 
 had found him so boring in his dull absorption of 
 grief; odd that then she had not realized it to be 
 merely the small exercise of a sir '11 mind. 
 
 For it had been that: Tony's whole life had 
 proved it ; he had not suff ered.by reason of a search- 
 ing vision which had been his ; he had suffered with- 
 out one, and thus narrowed down his feelings to 
 numbness not that tragic numbness which is the 
 result of an anti-climax of anguish, but that com- 
 placent numbness which has no recollection, no 
 direct spring of existence. 
 
 She met Tony's bovine look with a quick, 
 " Thanks. I'll tell Sweet to pack. I can leave in 
 time for tea, I think." 
 
 She went in search of Rex later, and they walked 
 to the old rose garden, and G sat on the circular 
 stone seat, warmed through and through by the sun- 
 shine, whilst Kex settled on the grass. 
 
 " I go back to Pointers to-day," she said to him. 
 
 " Why? " he demanded instantly. 
 
 " Your father will look after yo . He is home, 
 you see, and that arrangement is a right one." 
 
 " I hate it," Rex said, kneeling up. " G, don't 
 you hear, I hate it." 
 
 " And I, too," she longed to cry to him ; instead 
 she said, as levelly as she could : 
 
 " Pointers is quite near." 
 
 " Pointers isn't breakfast in bed and good-night 
 kissing, and all the while. It's all the while that
 
 120 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 matters so. G, oh darling, I hate it so, I hate it so." 
 
 "Darling, don't," G begged. The idea of sever- 
 ance from this rare, yet never very distant, lovely 
 intimacy, which can exist when a child loves and 
 has a tenderness no other love or companionship 
 can possess, made her feel unutterably tired and 
 old. 
 
 She consoled Rex with a description of future 
 meetings. 
 
 " Father is not what I'd choose to be left with," 
 Rex said candidly. 
 
 " You do not know him yet." 
 
 " No ; but I think about him, and that's what I 
 do think." 
 
 Doro and he argued together in their sitting-room 
 about G's departure. 
 
 " But if G's going, Tony's come, and it balances 
 things, don't you see?" 
 
 Rex faced her with passionate conviction. 
 
 " Nothing balances for losing someone you love 
 tight" 
 
 " But don't you love Tony? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " But he's your father." 
 
 " I know, but it doesn't matter." 
 
 Doro drew her straight, fine eyebrows together : 
 
 " But, Rex, it ought to." 
 
 She studied Rex's close-shut mouth. 
 
 " I love him like anything," she volunteered.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 121 
 
 "You had room to, you see," Rex said surpris- 
 ingly, and after that would discuss the point no 
 more. 
 
 They all drove in with G to Pointers. Bex stayed 
 behind the last to kiss her good-bye, then he ran 
 back, as quickly as he could, to the car. 
 
 G found on her pillow a bunch of roses, rather 
 short as to stem, but wrapped in a piece of paper 
 on which was written, "With lodes of love from 
 your adoring Rex."
 
 CHAPTEK VIII 
 
 "II arrive souvent que des choses se presentent plus 
 achevees a notre esprit qu'il ne les pourroit faire avec 
 beaucoup fart." LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 BY the time Doro was seventeen Rexford had 
 transformed Hurstpoint into a place where 
 you slept and ate when you were neither 
 hunting, shooting, fishing, nor pursuing any other 
 seasonable sport. He had been helped towards this 
 achievement by an old friend, a widower who (a 
 second resemblance also) lived for himself and 
 sport. Foster Pembroke contributed one outside 
 asset : he talked well and he had read widely. Both 
 Doro and Rex liked him and listened to him; he 
 taught them how to read intelligently, and guided 
 their choice in books, and if his tastes were some- 
 what catholic and contained works scarcely suit- 
 able to his admirer's outlook or age, neither they 
 nor he recognized the fact, nor were they likely to 
 do so in a house where men ruled and the only femi- 
 nine influence was that of a kinswoman whose own 
 outlook was that of a more naturally robust gen- 
 eration than her own. 
 
 Doro and Rex were educated in jerks: when a 
 tutor was available, when Rex was fit enough, when 
 
 122
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 123 
 
 Doro could spare time from hunting or racing, or 
 shooting. 
 
 One accomplishment alone was hers, and G had 
 insisted on its cultivation, and had herself arranged 
 for a master to come from London once a week: 
 Doro could sing. She had a voice which promised 
 glorious things and a curiously eclectic taste in 
 music. 
 
 For Tony she would sing any song, and he would 
 sit over his port, his red face intent, encouraging her 
 hoarsely, whilst Foster Pembroke criticized her 
 rendering. 
 
 Kex and G received the benefit of her own taste 
 Spanish songs, songs by Grieg, Lassen, Chaminade ; 
 it was before the days of Ravel, Wolff, Duparc. 
 
 Cavini, who made the fatiguing journey to Hurst- 
 point weekly, enthused wildly to G. 
 
 " It is a Heaven-sent voice it is all there, you 
 understand. There will be no trouble. Dio! what 
 a loss to Opera ! What a crime, a sin, to make no 
 use of such a voice ! " 
 
 G did not argue the point. Of course her niece, 
 even if she was so only by adoption, could not sing 
 publicly : it was one of those quite Bohemian ideas 
 which were amusing, but so lacking in discernment. 
 
 Rex said to Doro : 
 
 " Would you like to sing in Opera? " 
 
 Doro, cursing over the fit of a new habit, answered 
 absently :
 
 124 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 "Kather fun, don't you think? Carmen, for in- 
 stance, or Mignon. Drat this tailor the man's a 
 fool." 
 
 "Tut, tut!" said Rex. 
 
 He had not the splendid time which Doro adored 
 and lived for ; he was often " not very fit " or had 
 a breakdown; he loathed being ill, and was in- 
 tractable and moody until he felt fit again. 
 
 His father, appearing occasionally, would boom 
 at him: "Easy does it, eh? But you mustn't give 
 in too quickly. Got to keep goin' as much as you 
 can." 
 
 Hex would reply : " Yes, sir," wearily ; he realized 
 his father's deficiency of mental vision and felt no 
 resentment for his criticism, no special sentiment 
 towards him at all ; they agreed because they never 
 disagreed; Tony was seldom available for any 
 friendly overtures had Rex wished to make one ; he 
 was generally attended by Pembroke and one or 
 two other ardent sportsmen; he drowsed through 
 the days at home when he had to be there, drinking 
 heavily, and talking, if he talked at all, with Doro. 
 
 He was proud of her and fond of her; he gave 
 her everything she wanted, and only asked that she 
 should share his love of sport; at seventeen she 
 knew less of life than many girls of thirteen, more 
 about horses and dogs than a man of thirty, and 
 was a slender, beautiful, straight thing, all long 
 lines, reminiscent rather of a racer, as clean-limbed 
 and perfect in poise. She rode superbly, shot like
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 125 
 
 a man, swore like one, and could jump like a boy. 
 If she had cut her hair she might have passed for 
 a boy, with her slightly tanned long hands and 
 length of slenderness. 
 
 Rex topped her by a couple of inches, but his limp 
 was still evident. 
 
 He was too thin, but he had breadth of shoulder, 
 and his fair hair and dark eyes, eyebrows, and 
 lashes, gave him an air of distinction; he looked 
 different from the average boy, and was immensely 
 particular, without being affected, about his clothes, 
 a tendency ardently fostered by G, who, if Tony 
 spoilt Doro, evened the scale by spoiling Rex. 
 
 She was nearly eighty, but was still a dominant 
 character. Rex adored her ; they had no secrets from 
 one another, and G talked with him quite frankly ; 
 neither felt that the difference of years counted; 
 their minds met in happiness, and G's gift of love 
 .to Rex gave a colour and worth to his life it would 
 never, otherwise, have owned. 
 
 Her outlook was that of her day, the day when 
 men had baulked at subtlety, divided women into 
 definite classes, considered honour a natural attri- 
 bute and not a distinction, cultivated the narrowest 
 views and largest morals, and had been keen, quite 
 simple, enjoyable, and sentimental. 
 
 Rex, by intuition and choice, insomuch as he 
 could make choice at his age, was a modern of the 
 moderns ; but G's outlook had a fascination for him, 
 and G's manners were a joy to him.
 
 126 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He had distinct views on responsibility and the 
 dignity of life, despite his youth. He argued with 
 Doro often, who had no views, or rather views so 
 scattered that to attempt to catch one and discuss 
 it was rather like pursuing flying leaves with an 
 egg-spoon. She was a Socialist one day, a rabid 
 Conservative the next, both together later, and so 
 on and so forth. 
 
 " It's because I'm not, I suppose," she said firmly 
 to Hex, " and you are! You see, I haven't any obli- 
 gations social ones, I mean ; a tent doesn't confer 
 them, whereas a turreted house and a house in St. 
 James's oh, la la ! " 
 
 Her origin had a great charm for both Rex and 
 herself. 
 
 " We'll go to Spain one day," she said. " Tony 
 shall take us." 
 
 " That will, indeed, be romantic," Rex said dryly. 
 
 " He is, he can be ; deep down he's different to 
 anything you think of him," Doro protested. " I 
 know I feel it. It's because I love him and you 
 don't." 
 
 " Perhaps it's because you can endow people you 
 are fond of with all the qualities you admire," Rex 
 suggested in an elderly way. 
 
 " Well, if I do it makes things easier ! " Doro 
 laughed. " But " she grew serious " I am right 
 about Tony." 
 
 Rex heeded very little either way; he was in- 
 dulging in a discussion with Doro from his bed,
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 127 
 
 whither a bad toss out hunting had driven him. He 
 had sprained himself and was bored and out of 
 temper with his world. 
 
 Doro had come in to have tea with him, and was 
 standing beside the window ; outside a dull Novem- 
 ber day was drawing to a.dismal close ; the gorgeous 
 fire leaping up the open chimney made the weather 
 seem even gloomier. 
 
 " Ordered crumpets? " Hex asked, raising a 
 ruffled head from his pillow. 
 
 "Yes. Feelin' better, old .boy?" 
 
 " No, rotten." 
 
 " Damn bad luck ! That wall had absolutely no 
 take-off. Like a light? " 
 
 " Not just yet." 
 
 "Head bad?" 
 
 A bit." 
 
 Doro crossed the room and sat down on the bed 
 and laid cool, slim fingers on Rex's forehead. 
 
 "Oh, that's jolly," he said with a little sigh. 
 "What topping scent you've got on what is it? " 
 
 " G gave it to me. She says every woman ought 
 to appreciate perfume, and use it with perception." 
 
 "I appreciate your perception this afternoon, 
 anyway," Rex murmured. "You're like jasmine 
 flowers at night, Doro." 
 
 " I wish I said those sort of things thought 
 them," Doro exclaimed. "You have beautiful words, 
 Rex, y'know. I suppose it's readin' so much, partly."
 
 128 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " For God's sake don't drop your ' g's/ " Eex 
 said impatiently. " It's awful I hate it cropping 
 words like a puppy's tail ! It's cruel to them ! " 
 
 Doro laughed, her fingers slid into his thick, yel- 
 low hair. 
 
 " But don't, I do hate it ! " Bex protested. " I 
 hate beautiful things to do unbeautif ul ones ! " 
 
 " D'you think I'm really beautiful?" 
 
 " Yes. So do you." 
 
 " Sometimes I get worried," Doro said. " It's 
 my type other girls are different. Daphne Carew 
 that gold and white effect of hers that's lovely, 
 if you like." 
 
 " Yes, and ordinary, my dear kid ; it's the unordi- 
 nary that has the pull! And you oh! I dunno, 
 it's your eyes being so green. . . . Awf'ly few people 
 ever have really green eyes, you know. You read of 
 'em and hear of 'em, but you scarcely ever meet 
 ? em. I was talking with G about it, and she agreed. 
 
 And yours are green as " he sought for a simile ; 
 
 " they are like the sea on a very still, hot day. You 
 must have noticed it sometimes? In Cornwall, I 
 remember thinking of your eyes when I was stand- 
 ing on a cliff and looking down, and one long drift 
 was clearest, sheerest green, with the sun pouring 
 through it. That's your eyes in some lights, and in 
 others they're like jasmine and jasmine leaves, very 
 dark green with little reflections like stars in them : 
 jasmine petals in their leaves. I ought to have 
 been a poet. I may be yet."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 129 
 
 They laughed together. 
 
 " D'you want to write; would you like to? " Doro 
 asked. 
 
 "No, not really. Eeally, I want to do all the 
 things you do, but I knock up so quickly, damn it." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," Doro said consolingly, " any- 
 one would be laid up after a toss like the one you 
 took yesterday. And no one can help runnin' into 
 bad luck sometimes ! " 
 
 Hex looked at her, they both laughed. 
 
 " Don't you see chopping off your ' g's ' is so 
 ugly?" he expostulated; "all abbreviations are. 
 You take a perfectly good name or word that's never 
 done you any harm and, like the White Queen, you 
 say: 'Off with their heads!' (only it's tails this 
 time ! ) . I like Dolores heaps better than Doro, but 
 it's too late to alter that; but some abbreviations 
 are criminal. Anyway, they all give me a lop-sided 
 feeling." 
 
 Doro lit a cigarette and handed it to him. Tony 
 had never interfered with his son's habits in any 
 way ; if Rex had chosen to go about in woad or taken 
 cognac for breakfast, it is doubtful, firstly, that he 
 would have noticed, and if he had, that he would 
 have made any comment. 
 
 Rex's vices, however, were negligible so far, and 
 his smoking had certainly not retarded his growth ; 
 he was fifteen, and nearly six feet in height. 
 
 Propped up on big pillows he surveyed his room. 
 The firelight flung a wide glow over the white-
 
 130 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 pannelled walls. Eex had collected various things 
 he loved from other rooms, and had chosen with 
 discernment. He had a dowry chest Jbeneath one 
 window, and a travelling box on one side of the fire- 
 place which had belonged to an Italian lady of the 
 sixteenth century. It was of brass, studded thickly 
 with nails; a really beautiful thing. 
 
 Boxing prints adorned the walls, uncles and 
 great-uncles and other relatives figuring amongst 
 the onlookers in several cases. Portraits of Tommy 
 Burns, Fitzsimmons, and Jem Mace hung between. 
 
 Rex's bed was a four-poster with the hangings 
 stripped away and the lovely fluted posts left shin- 
 ing and clear cut. 
 
 Through the open windows the soft, moist air 
 blew in and mingled with the scent of Tony's really 
 excellent cigarettes. 
 
 " Ring for tea," Rex suggested ; " it must be get- 
 ting pretty late." 
 
 He propped himself higher; he had on a rather 
 gorgeous jacket of Indian workmanship which 
 Pembroke had given him from his " stores." Pem- 
 broke was sixty, and hale, and selfish, and strangely 
 pleasant; he neglected his own place because it 
 offered poor sport. 
 
 Often he gave Doro and Rex gifts, Doro a brace- 
 let, Rex a gun, but always gifts he had had in his 
 possession for some time. 
 
 Rex loved his Indian coat ; it was of densely blue 
 satin, embroidered in faded golden thread, and had
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 131 
 
 queer matrix buttons. His face looked rather white 
 above the intense colouring, white and thin. 
 
 Emilia came in, followed by Bex's man carrying 
 the tea-tray. 
 
 Emilia had not changed with time; she had re- 
 mained stout, bronze-faced, white of tooth and jolly 
 of smile, and utterly devoted to Doro. 
 
 Bex she loved, Doro she adored. 
 
 She exclaimed at once now over her " little Sefior- 
 ita's " shoes, and knelt down to change them, whilst 
 Doro extended a slender foot, balancing herself by 
 holding on to Kex's hand. 
 
 "You're an angel, Nannie," she said with the 
 careless, happy acceptance of a thoroughly spoilt 
 childhood. "And she's to have tea with us, isn't 
 she, Rex? " 
 
 " Bather," Bex agreed. 
 
 Emilia beamed with pleasure. She loved having 
 both her nurselings under her charge again, how- 
 ever unnecessary her care now might be. 
 
 Doro sat down in a big chair and gave a sigh of 
 content. 
 
 " Strong as death, sweet as love three lumps and 
 lemon too, please," she ordered blithely, " and the 
 merest hint of anchovy paste on the butteriest 
 crumpet, Querida, and I think I'll do for a bit ! " 
 
 Between mouthf uls she asked Bex : 
 
 " Glad you haven't to dine down? " 
 
 He looked at her for a second, then said:
 
 132 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Oh, you mean because Pan's coming? Not 
 sorry ! " 
 
 " There's a hell of a row on," Doro said elegantly, 
 
 " Divorce is rotten, anyway," Eex declared 
 aloofly. 
 
 " Tony's furious about it all." 
 
 Eex gave a little chuckling laugh. 
 
 "I suppose he said two sentences and gave up? 
 ' Damn nuisance ! ' i Pretty mess.' Or didn't he get 
 sufficiently angry to inspire him to such lengthy 
 eloquence? " 
 
 " He feels things awfully, Rex, you've no idea." 
 
 " A mutual resemblance at last then. He hasn't 
 many, you'll own ! " 
 
 Doro flushed gorgeously. 
 
 " Being able to talk rather cleverly isn't every- 
 thing ; lots of people who are inarticulate know an 
 awful lot, too." 
 
 " Two up," Rex agreed placidly. " You have the 
 honour ! " 
 
 Tea progressed in peace. 
 
 "How long's Pan staying?" Rex asked irrele- 
 vantly. 
 
 " I don't know till Tony's seen to all this bother, 
 settled it." 
 
 "That shouldn't take long," Rex commented 
 blandly. " Father will ask two questions. Pan will 
 answer neither directly, and there remains the sub- 
 ject of allowance ! It'll come to that, I'm certain." 
 
 "What really happened?"
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 133 
 
 " Oh, Pan married this girl and then tired of her, 
 and there was a duel or something, and he's been 
 booted out of the Diplomatic, and he's sans income, 
 job, and, I bet, temper ! " 
 
 " You do hate Pan, don't you? " Doro asked idly. 
 
 Kex stirred restlessly. That reserve which cloaks 
 any deep feeling was his to an intense degree. 
 
 " Of course not," he said ; " it would be childish 
 now." 
 
 " And of course we're very grown up now ! " 
 
 " Oh, I'm awf 'ly old for my age," Kex stated gaily. 
 
 Light flooded the room as G entered. G with a 
 stick, but no other evidence of submission to the 
 years' sovereignty. 
 
 Rex struggled up in bed, his face flushing with 
 delight. 
 
 " Darling, how sweet of you to come over ! " he 
 said eagerly. "I say, this is a beano ! Emilia, ring 
 for China tea, and macaroons ; and, Doro, be a sport 
 and fetch those tall roses from the study. G will 
 love to look at them." 
 
 G sat down beside him. 
 
 " Crocked again? " 
 
 He nodded, smiling. 
 
 " But worth while, after all, since it brings you 
 to see me ! I say, Pan arrives to-night." 
 
 " Bad business," G commented briefly. 
 
 " I suppose so," Eex agreed soberly. " G, is it 
 very bad?"
 
 134 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Yes, quite. Unforgivably so, according to our 
 standards." 
 
 Doro came back with the roses. 
 
 " Look, aren't they adorable? " she asked. 
 
 She stood for a moment beneath a hanging light 
 arranging them, and the soft glow flung delicate 
 and beautiful shadows over her face, as she slightly 
 moved her head. She gave an extraordinary im- 
 pression of goldenness and rose-colour standing 
 there, her hair shone, the translucent greenness of 
 her eyes as she smiled at Kex and G seemed like a 
 happy radiance. 
 
 " Very effective, my dear," G said as she put the 
 roses down. 
 
 Rex gave a low whistle under his breath. His 
 gaze met G's. 
 
 " I thought so, too," she told him, smiling. 
 
 "Isn't it queer," he asked a little breathlessly, 
 " the way you seem suddenly to notice things? " 
 
 G studied him as he looked again at Doro, who 
 was seated on the rug before the fire feeding herself 
 and Nick's grandson, a young gentleman of some 
 eight months, with bits of crumpet, on which, 
 according to minute instructions, the merest "hint" 
 of anchovy paste had been duly spread. 
 
 Doro was wearing a shooting-skirt and silk shirt 
 with a severe black tie. Her hair was plaited in one 
 thick plait and tied with a bow equally severe, and 
 she had on heather stockings. Her clothes certainly 
 were not very decorative, and yet, sitting there, the
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 135 
 
 flames patterning her in gold and scarlet, she gave 
 an impression of youth, and sweetness, and coolness, 
 and fragrance. 
 
 Really, her hair was " up " ; this stirring event 
 had taken place on her last birthday, and in the 
 evenings Emilia, who had toiled to London to learn 
 the way, dressed it delightfully. 
 
 " I'll have to love and leave you, my dears," she 
 said now, looking up from rolling young Nick's ears 
 over her little finger. " Tony told me to be down 
 early. I'll come in when I'm ready, though. I've 
 the rippingest new kit. I got it at Callots, all white 
 and silver, young, but not too young, if you take my 
 meaning, as Pembroke says, and it has distinction ! 
 Don't you believe it! Good-bye again." 
 
 As the door closed, Hex said : 
 
 " G, wasn't it odd, the way we both thought so, 
 at the same minute? " 
 
 G had known he would go back to that instant's 
 revelation. She said quietly : 
 
 " Telepathy, or, more probably, a similar taste 
 for beauty ! Of course, Doro has it. We have always 
 been agreed on that point." 
 
 Rex lay back and thought. 
 
 " D'you know," he said suddenly, " to-day, some- 
 times I can't think why it seemed different, not 
 newer, but different, stronger? " 
 
 " It's Doro's doing ! " G suggested lightly. 
 
 "I suppose so."
 
 136 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 G looked down at his absorbed face. He was 
 gazing intently at the fire ; his profile was towards 
 her, a rather thin, rather ascetic profile, very clear 
 cut, fine of line, a firm chin and resolute mouth, 
 the lips close pressed. Anxious love stirred in her 
 heart, roused in some measure by the surprised 
 happiness which had shown in Rex's eyes when he 
 had looked at Doro. 
 
 Of course he was only a boy, she a girl. 
 
 But the mere thought that he might be unhappy 
 hurt her. 
 
 But, heavens! How far-fetched a thought, how 
 very, very problematical!
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 " Let this be said between us here, 
 
 One love grows green when one turns grey: 
 This year knows nothing of last year; 
 To-morrow has no more to say 
 To yesterday." 
 
 SWINBURNE. 
 
 DORO walked downstairs slowly. She was 
 early, and her shoes, of frail brocade, scarlet- 
 heeled, were extremely new and very high. 
 
 From the hall, half hidden beneath the shade of 
 a dim, torn banner, Pasquale Greville watched her. 
 
 Her loveliness swept like a summer wind across 
 his close, jaded mind. 
 
 Doro stopped on the stairs and adjusted a flounce, 
 and Greville thought her skin was whiter than her 
 soft white dress; she looked all whiteness, un- 
 touchedness. 
 
 He went forward and stood directly under a 
 light ; he had done it before and knew the value of 
 a first decorative impression. 
 
 He obtained it. Real beauty is so rare, it must 
 be recognized at once; it is impossible to ignore it. 
 
 Doro, a being alive to the end of every shining 
 strand of her hair, acknowledged its presence with 
 delight ; G's influence, Rex's outlook, her own choice 
 of view, all swayed her now in her admiration. 
 
 137
 
 138 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 She enjoyed looking at Greville, and was aware 
 she did. 
 
 Then he spoke, and she laughed and coloured, 
 and said: 
 
 " Pan ! " 
 
 Greville caught her hands in his. 
 
 " Doro ! " 
 
 The loosening of their hands took a little while, 
 and Greville did not speak for a moment, then he 
 said: 
 
 " Grown up, altogether new ! " 
 
 " Oh, not altogether," Doro said rather shyly. 
 
 "Well," he made a quick gesture with his fine 
 tanned hands, " what is one to say then? I remem- 
 ber an Alice in Wonderland and find Aphrodite." 
 
 " Both begin with an ' A,' " Doro owned demurely. 
 " That's a resemblance, anyway." 
 
 Greville laughed mechanically ; he was swept off 
 his feet utterly by her beauty and youth ; he had an 
 extraordinary sense of well-being suddenly ; the old 
 discontent, boredness with life, which had encom- 
 passed him about during the last years, seemed sud- 
 denly to have been dispelled ; he knew the sensation 
 well, but he had not experienced it of late. 
 
 Doro was studying him; he felt it, and was de- 
 lighted in his turn. 
 
 Actually, she was thinking how strange it was to 
 see a beautiful man, and yet no other word could be 
 used to describe Greville accurately. He had fault- 
 less form of head and features ; odd, yet attractive,
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 139 
 
 darkly-golden hazel eyes, and nearly black hair; a 
 skin of fine texture, faintly tanned, and a singularly 
 charming smile. 
 
 He was very tall and had the sportsman's figure : 
 flat, broad of shoulder, which gives an expression of 
 strength and grace. To Doro's relief he was ex- 
 tremely well turned out. Tony was rather a grief to 
 her in that respect, Pembroke also, and Rex did not 
 count very much; Greville did, and she liked 
 his sapphire waistcoat-buttons and links, which 
 matched. 
 
 And, too, there was about him the undeniable 
 glamour of a wrong romance. Doro was rather in 
 doubt as to why people were divorced, but there 
 clung to Greville, undoubtedly, the suggestion of an 
 unhappy love, which never fails to invest the man 
 or woman with interest : of what nature depends on 
 the person by whom it is felt. 
 
 Doro's, of course, was sheerly sentimental, and, 
 it must be owned, Greville was the easiest person 
 possible for whom to feel sentiment in any form. 
 Women had always adored him and spoilt him ; he 
 knew to an eyelash the value of his looks. 
 
 He had looked forward to this visit with great 
 distaste; only the fact that he had to have money 
 and that only Tony would give it to him had forced 
 him to undertake it. 
 
 His marriage, which had taken place ten years 
 earlier, had been an unqualified failure. His poor 
 little Italian Marchesa had suffered too cruelly in
 
 140 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 comparison, and Greville had not cared who had 
 known it; he had married her because he had been 
 forced to do so, or leave the Diplomatic. Now, in 
 the end, he had to leave it, and because of her, and, 
 though he had no least affection for it really, he 
 resented having to give up anything without his own 
 volition. 
 
 Still, it was an infinite relief to be rid of Bianca, 
 whom once he had likened to Primavera, to Semi- 
 ramis, to Bice but not to Aphrodite; he had sup- 
 plied the godlike looks in that family a deux. 
 
 He greeted Tony and Pembroke urbanely, and 
 continued to stare at Doro. 
 
 They dined in the big dining-room; Tony chose 
 to maintain a certain state, and Greville thought 
 the formal service, the silver plate, the dark table 
 with its purple and white orchids set in feathery, 
 vivid green, a fit setting for Doro. 
 
 She sat at one end facing Tony, and the panelling 
 of the walls was a beautiful background for her 
 whiteness. 
 
 Greville found himself thinking of her eyes; he 
 had quite forgotten, with regard to colour, that she 
 had eyes ! 
 
 And behold! they were the n 111 marvel: really 
 green eyes, set below pencil-line black eyebrows. 
 
 " Really green ! " he kept telling himself, recover- 
 ing from his amazement with difficulty. 
 
 He recalled, whilst apparently listening to some
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 141 
 
 hunting story of Pembroke's, various verses which 
 were applicable to Doro's green eyes. 
 
 Hadn't Baudelaire spoken of " yeux verddtres 
 sorcidre aux yeux allechants? " 
 
 At any rate, some poet had, and some day he 
 would read the poem to Doro. 
 
 How old was she, seventeen, eighteen? 
 
 Old enough ! 
 
 Doro rose. 
 
 " Better stay and drink with us," Tony suggested. 
 
 To Greville's surprise she stayed, but she drank 
 very little, and only twisted the glass of port round 
 before a candle placed near her, watching its rubies 
 reflect on her hand. 
 
 " Goin' to sing? " Tony suggested in the drawing- 
 room. 
 " Do you sing? " Greville asked. 
 
 " She's trainin' under Cavini," Tony threw out 
 contemptuously. 
 
 Greville opened wide eyes for an instant : Cavini 
 was a maestro; it was an honour to be taught by 
 him. 
 
 " I'll do my best," Doro said, seated at the ebony 
 piano. " Darling," to Tony, " what will you have? " 
 
 "Any thin', anything" Tony said lethargically; 
 " please yourself." 
 
 To Greville's amazement she began the opening 
 bars of Grieg's " Time and all Eternity," and when 
 she sang it, her eyes, half unconsciously resting on 
 Greville's face, his looked into hers with every
 
 142 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 consciousness. For years, since his youth, he had 
 not felt as he now felt ; he realized he was actually 
 trembling, a mist seemed to rise before him, and 
 through it Doro sang on, superbly, gorgeously, 
 without any effort, with the heavenly clearness and 
 lack of emotion a boy's perfect voice holds. 
 
 " My God ! " Greville said to himself, " when she 
 feels and sings as she feels . . . ! " 
 
 The song was finished ; he heard Pembroke make 
 some remark, Doro answered it ; then she began to 
 sing again, a little song in French, an absurd little 
 song all about a " belle marquise " called Fifinella ; 
 she finished the song, laughed, and rose. 
 
 " There ! " 
 
 " Very nice, my dear," Tony said. " That's 
 Cavini, Pan." 
 
 "And a very lovely voice," Greville answered 
 coolly. 
 
 He turned abruptly to Doro. 
 
 " D'you like singing? " 
 
 " I adore it." 
 
 " And riding too, still? " 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " You have a wonderful memory, PanJ " 
 
 " Not in some cases," he answered, his golden eyes 
 darkening as he looked at her ; " in some cases one 
 cannot forget." 
 
 A sudden delicate confusion robbed Doro of the 
 power to reply.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 143 
 
 She had a strange sense of being cut off in some 
 way from Tony and Pembroke, of talking in another 
 atmosphere a keener, more vivid one, with Greville. 
 
 He disturbed her thoughts oddly and made her 
 feel, paradoxically, at once older in some ways and 
 much younger in others. 
 
 He lit a cigarette now, and with the match cupped 
 in his hand, a little flame of hard light illuminating 
 his face, and making his eyes shine brilliantly, 
 asked in a low voice: 
 
 " Why did you flush, Aphrodite? " 
 
 "Did I?" Doro asked. 
 
 "Yes, most adorably. There must have been a 
 reason." 
 
 Doro lifted grave eyes to his. 
 
 " I think I felt shy," she said ; " you see, it is such 
 a long while since you were here " 
 
 " And now I seem different, and you also? " 
 Greville supplemented quickly. "And the differ- 
 ence is rather bewildering, is that it? " 
 
 " I suppose so," Doro murmured. 
 
 Tony called to her; she went across to him. 
 
 "What are you and Pan muttering about?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Differences in life," Greville said blandly. 
 
 " You should be able to argue on that," Tony con- 
 ceded with bluff sarcasm. He jerked his head at 
 Doro: 
 
 " Time you were in bed, my dear."
 
 144 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Greville opened the door for her and followed her 
 to the foot of the wide, shallow stairs. He took her 
 hand. 
 
 " Sleep well, Aphrodite ! Grow used to the dif- 
 ference! I want you " his cool grasp tightened 
 suddenly, " I want you to grow very used to me." 
 
 He waited until she reached the landing, and 
 Doro had a last impression of him, dark head back- 
 flung, his eyes smiling her " good night." 
 
 She paused at Rex's door, then knocked and went 
 in. 
 
 " Had a thin time? " Rex asked sympathetically. 
 " I heard you singing and loved it. What's Pan like 
 now ; same as ever, I expect? " 
 
 Doro did not answer for a moment, and Rex 
 repeated the question a little differently: 
 
 " Was Pan pretty sickening? I suppose so. 
 Languidly clever, and unostentatiously indifferent 
 to. us, eh?" 
 
 "He was quite all right, I think," Doro said 
 constrainedly. 
 
 "Tired?" 
 
 " Yes, a little ; it's been rather a stiff day." 
 
 Rex sighed and drew a book from his table. 
 
 " Better cut along to bed. Good night." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 In her own room, with Emilia undressing her, all 
 her own " little " comfort of atmosphere about her 
 again, she felt less weary, the sense of tautness 
 seemed to have left her; it had been, this evening
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 145 
 
 downstairs, rather like a lesson of some sort, an 
 ordeal in some way. 
 
 When Emilia had gone she slipped into a thick, 
 white silk dressing-gown, banked herself with big 
 cushions, and went to sit in the window-seat before 
 the open lattice window. 
 
 The night was so mild it suggested spring ; there 
 was in the air that hesitant little breeze, the 
 fragrance of wet moss. 
 
 A wood fire, now only a glow, cut by an occasional 
 spear of blue flame, lit the room faintly. Doro 
 gazed out into the night; a restlessness possessed 
 her, and she discovered again and again that her 
 thoughts were of Pan. . . . Men's looks had never 
 seemed to matter before men, anyway, had not. 
 Men had always been Rex's friends : Richard Cole- 
 fax, the Carew boys, the Dorringtons. . . . 
 
 Perhaps it was because Pan was older that he 
 seemed to count more? 
 
 He had lived so much and the others the others 
 had always been just where they were, what they 
 were. 
 
 She would discuss Pan with G. . . . No, she 
 would not quite distinctly she realized she would 
 not do that; her motive was obscure, but it was 
 definite. 
 
 It had not been easy to say anything about him 
 to Rex even. 
 
 Why? 
 
 She drew her delicate brows together ; her whole
 
 146 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 mind felt tense with perplexity, which yet had an 
 element of happiness in it. 
 
 It was so strange that the meeting itself and the 
 fact of its occurrence impressed her so and made 
 her feel she could not sleep ! 
 
 The vision of Pan, standing beneath the light, 
 came to her again, and then again the thought re- 
 turned, so inevitably attractive to youth, of the 
 mystery in his life. 
 
 What had really happened about his marriage; 
 how unhappy had he been? 
 
 She felt sure he had not been the first to whom 
 blame could be attached, anyway. 
 
 A guard of defence for him leapt to instant being 
 in her thoughts. 
 
 Had he been very unhappy? Had he loved Bianca 
 very deeply? 
 
 For years Pan had been merely a name. He had 
 been in Berlin, in Bucharest, in Paris often ; he had 
 married an Italian girl, he had left her, he was re- 
 turning to England. 
 
 That had been all, and Doro had listened very 
 vaguely. 
 
 Now he had come into her life, an entirely new 
 being, and thereby had accrued to him the weight of 
 much novelty, the benefit of forming her im- 
 pressions. 
 
 Doro went to her dressing-table for a handker- 
 chief. Her own reflection caught her gaze in the
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 147 
 
 oval mirror. She studied herself with a new ab- 
 sorbed interest. 
 
 Was she beautiful really honestly? 
 
 Her mind still practised the childish formula 
 honestly? 
 
 She gave a little shy smile at her own reflection, 
 and her eyes smiled back at her. Rex had said they 
 were like jasmine flowers and leaves. She leant 
 forward, and the light from the electric candles lit 
 a little star in the deep greenness. Were green eyes 
 so wonderful? 
 
 She hoped so, with a deep sigh. 
 
 Just now they had shadows of weariness under 
 them, leaf shadows on the magnolia petal of her 
 skin. 
 
 She threw up both slender white arms and sighed 
 again. 
 
 It was a good world, a world full of sport and 
 general splendidness but somehow 
 
 She switched off the lights, and slipped into bed. 
 Anyway, to-morrow was near, and that was, for 
 some secret reason her heart would not quite 
 acknowledge, rather wonderful. 
 
 A last memory of Pan came to her, and she won- 
 dered if he were asleep, and wondering, slept herself. 
 
 At that instant Greville was lighting a last ciga- 
 rette as he stood before the fire in his room. It was 
 his own old room and, as a matter of course, was 
 always prepared for him when he visited Hurst 
 point.
 
 148 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 To-night he thought of the last time he had slept 
 there, years before. 
 
 It was not a very pleasing reflection, so much had 
 happened since then, so much which had been un- 
 comfortable and disturbing, and the " before time " 
 of memory should be of the sun-dial type, which 
 only counts the happy hours! Greville stirred the 
 fire with a slippered foot, frowning a little, and the 
 flames leapt up gaily. Reflection concerning the last 
 decade of his life made him think with ironical 
 amusement of a certain popular song, with its sug- 
 gestion of a varied affection for fair ladies as dif- 
 ferent. . . . Farkoa had sung it, or someone else; 
 it really did not matter, but its subject was 
 familiar ! 
 
 Forty! 
 
 He met the thought with a quick squaring of the 
 shoulders and a little covert smile forty, and free 
 to enter the lists again ! By God, he would be care- 
 ful this time; this separation had cost him the 
 remainder of his income. It was an unpleasing 
 thought, but he was not unduly distressed by it. 
 Kexford was an extremely wealthy man, and he 
 would give him a reasonable allowance, Greville 
 felt convinced, if only because of his abhorrence of 
 any family scandal. 
 
 Eexford could leave his money as he liked, pretty 
 well, too. 
 
 Already Greville had sensed to whom Tony gave 
 affection.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 149 
 
 i 
 
 It was not amazing ! 
 
 God, what absolute sheer beauty Doro had! A 
 winner beyond question. 
 
 Extraordinary combination of colouring, that bur- 
 nished sort of hair, and that white skin, and such 
 eyes and with it all, utterly young, utterly im- 
 pressionable. 
 
 He smiled a little now as he remembered Doro's 
 " shy " flush, her delightful confusion when he had 
 asked its reason. 
 
 What a heavenly task to rouse Selene, to watch 
 the adorable growth of consciousness, to note the 
 birth of response to an emotional influence it 
 would be like studying a bud opening its petals 
 slowly, slowly, utterly delightful in its unconscious 
 surrender. . . . The thought burnt like a swift fire 
 in his brain for a moment. 
 
 After all, why not? 
 
 But he would have to go slowly. Doro's upbring- 
 ing had held no hothouse element apparently ! Any- 
 thing but, he was forced to conclude upon reflection. 
 
 But if not, there was her voice to explain : that 
 voice which held within its note the promise of a 
 passionate heart. ... A voice like that, allied to 
 such youngness and loveliness ! 
 
 What a land of amazing promise and mystery 
 for an explorer, what heavenly labour to wake 
 sleeping emotion, to give colour to that voice ! 
 
 He caught his breath sharply; it had been so 
 long, owing to the tedious exigencies of the hour,
 
 150 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 since he had experienced a love affair. And to find 
 one here, at Hurstpoint, of all places ! 
 
 He drew on his cigarette until it flamed deeply. 
 
 If it might not be an affair of moment, Doro's 
 presence would make his stay a very different event 
 from that he had been prepared to endure. 
 
 At any rate, even if nothing matured, it would be 
 pleasant to wile away the days with Doro, instead 
 of being left to the tender mercies of Tony. Gad, 
 what a boor and bore ! 
 
 He looked at his watch. He, too, meant to hunt 
 the following day. His glance caught the sharp 
 colour of his pink coat, which his man had laid out 
 for him. Time to turn in if he meant to turn out in 
 decent time. 
 
 As it was he overslept, and ran downstairs, 
 gulped some scalding tea, and was barely able to 
 catch Doro up at the house field. 
 
 He hallooed to her gaily ; the sun was just break- 
 ing through ; he felt admirably fit, and he was quite 
 aware he looked it; and certainly Doro looked a 
 great deal more than merely fit ! 
 
 She was riding near Tony, who greeted Pan with 
 a jerk of his head. 
 
 Pan edged close to Doro. A fine little smile had 
 curved his lips for an instant after he had met her 
 glance. 
 
 It was such a shy little glance shy, and admir- 
 ing, and happy.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 151 
 
 He felt suddenly extraordinarily gay, at one with 
 the keenness of the day, the joy of sport, all the 
 elan of the hour. 
 
 A soft big wind blew the sodden leaves about, the 
 sky hung low, its pale blueness shielded by banks 
 of dove-coloured clouds; every single detail of the 
 landscape seemed to stand out as if it had been 
 etched; the lovely bareness of the trees as they 
 reared themselves back from the caresses of the blus- 
 tering wind was cut against the delicate sky in 
 straight, graceful lines, a witchery of myriad-pat- 
 terned lace-woven branches. 
 
 " Oh, it's good, it's divine to be alive and riding, 
 and so happy," Doro's heart sang to her; all her 
 youth tingled with the sheer joy of living this soft, 
 clean day. 
 
 Last night seemed far away, and yet still won 
 derful. 
 
 Tony, riding behind her, urging forward, caught 
 a glimpse of her rapt face, its colour whipped to 
 keenest shell-pink, and unconsciously his hard 
 mouth softened. 
 
 All his obstinate pride centred in Doro. It was 
 a secret pride, and because of that, more strong. 
 
 Hex had never managed to matter much ; the lad 
 was always ailing, and when he was fit he was so 
 damn silent, kept himself to himself, and the old 
 grudge had never died, never would die . . . but 
 Doro ... 
 
 Occasionally Tony thought plans for her, very
 
 152 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 rarely; he was content to accept the good moment, 
 and Doro was so young. 
 
 He said huskily to Pembroke, who was passing 
 him: 
 
 "All right, eh?" his bloodshot eyes on Doro. 
 
 Pembroke shared his admiration, whilst reserv- 
 ing an appreciation of Rex. 
 
 He nodded now and said bluffly: 
 
 " A winner, Tony, a winner, hands down." 
 
 Pan cut out of the field and bore down; both 
 men watched him ; Tony's face lowered. 
 
 He rode straight to Doro and they raced ahead 
 together. 
 
 Pembroke, removing his shrewd eyes from Tony, 
 wheeled away swiftly.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 "I put my soul into your eyes; 
 I looked, I saw, and did not see 
 My own soul looking back at me." 
 
 ARTHUR SYMONS. 
 
 " Only thoughts of you remain 
 In my heart where they have lain. 
 Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining 
 A tired sweetness in my brain. 
 Others leave me: all things leave me, 
 You remain." 
 
 FEW people have the gift of withdrawal when 
 they desire to attain, fewer still (and it is not 
 an admirable quality) the power to stabilize 
 the moment; subtlety is required to achieve that 
 condition, and subtlety rarely yokes with selfless- 
 ness ; nearly always a subtle love imposes sacrifice. 
 
 Greville played on Doro's nature like wind on 
 flame ; he was vastly intrigued himself, but he had 
 no least wish to transform intrigue into action ; for 
 him the hazard of the game was a great charm. . . . 
 
 Doro, hesitant, nervous, delightfully young, was 
 swept from one mood to another by Pan's atten- 
 tions, his lack of them, by the endlessly disturbing 
 sense of " waiting " which never left her. 
 
 She could have told no one what she felt ; luckily 
 there was no one to watch her very closely. Hex 
 
 153
 
 154 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 was ill for rather a long time ; G was generally with 
 him, and Tony and Pembroke were immersed in 
 the season's sport, which gave little opportunity for 
 scrutiny of subtlety. 
 
 Often Pan vanished to town for week-ends, and 
 then Doro knew how the time dragged. 
 
 Consciously, she never said to herself at this time, 
 " This is love." Love had held so small place in her 
 life as a subject to be brought for examination. 
 
 But she waited with a sickening sense of sus- 
 pense for the arrival of the car when it had gone in 
 to meet the six o'clock train. Often Pan did not 
 come when he had said he would, and then, when 
 she had waited in the hall and learnt of his non- 
 arrival, she would slip away upstairs to her own 
 sitting-room, and sit there in the twilight until 
 Emilia came to dress her for dinner. 
 
 She was not really unhappy ; the " waiting " sense 
 was an excitement, every hour held some promise. 
 
 Whimsically, watching the drive one day at post 
 time, for Pan had written occasionally from town, 
 and this was during a visit there, she thought of 
 the magic of the postman; until Pan's advent he 
 had been John Thomas from the forge, now he was 
 either heaven's messenger, or a heartless old man 
 who might as well never have been born ! 
 
 Pan motored down for Christmas, however, arriv- 
 ing on Christmas Eve laden with gifts, books for 
 Rex, a tiny diamond wrist-watch on a green ribbon
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 155 
 
 with an emerald clasp for Doro, appropriate gifts 
 for all. 
 
 He came into the big hall, exclaiming at the cold, 
 declaring he was frozen, but looking fit and smart. 
 
 He sat down beside Doro; so close to her that 
 the sleeve of his coat touched her arm. 
 
 " Glad to see me? " he asked in a voice only she 
 could hear. 
 
 A wild shyness prevented her answering. 
 
 " Aren't you? " Pan teased softly. "Hard-hearted 
 being! And I have thought of meeting you, only 
 that, all the way down in the car. The cold didn't 
 matter because of that thought; it was like a fire 
 and kept me warm." 
 
 He held out his hands to the real fire now, and 
 the keen flame shone through their lean fineness. 
 
 Doro felt a frantic longing to put out her hand, 
 too, and twine her fingers in those other long ones. 
 She stole a glance at Pan's bent head, on which the 
 firelight glowed, making his dark hair glitter a 
 little. 
 
 At last she said very shyly : 
 
 " I am so glad you came for Christmas, after all." 
 
 Pan laughed. He had that laugh which can hurt, 
 which is on a note of mockery, of disbelief, it seems 
 always. 
 
 " I am indeed honoured," he said lightly. 
 
 All Doro's lit happiness was extinguished by his 
 voice ; it fell away to a little heap of desolate ash, 
 vain hopes burnt out.
 
 156 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 She rose with a murmur of some duty as hostess ; 
 her one desire was to save her pathetic little dignity. 
 Then as she moved she trembled uncontrollably, for 
 Pan's hand had slid down and clasped hers, his 
 fingers twined closely *in her own. 
 
 For an instant the hall, the huge leaping fire, 
 every familiar sight and sound vanished; she felt 
 physically faint with an overwhelming joy, and deep 
 in her heart she asked piteously: 
 
 " What happened what happened? " 
 
 Rex sauntered across, her hand was freed ; but as 
 Pan's fingers loosed her own, again that wonderful 
 dizzying sweetness swept over her, and she wanted 
 to whisper, " Ah ! don't take your hand away don't 
 go, don't go." 
 
 "Rather in the dark over here, aren't you?" 
 Rex's voice asked. " One moment." He leant across, 
 and a light leapt to being ; he fetched cake for Doro, 
 and waited beside her and Pan. 
 
 " Had a good time in town? " he asked Pan. 
 
 " Thanks, yes. Are you better? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ; nearly all right. I mean to hunt next 
 week." 
 
 " And when do you go back to school? " 
 
 Rex laughed. He knew quite well that Pan was 
 aware he had had to leave Eton because of his 
 health, and the question genuinely amused him be- 
 cause he penetrated its reason. 
 
 " I don't. I stay here " he smiled his peculiarly
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 157 
 
 attractive smile, glancing at Doro " and look after 
 Doro." 
 
 Doro protested, of course ; laughed nervously. To 
 himself Pan said, " The damned young cub saw 
 how much will he suspect? " 
 
 He met Rex's clear, rather aloof gaze with a hard 
 stare ; he might gibe with hidden dislike at Rex, but 
 he acknowledged him no mean opponent. There was 
 about Eex an effect of serenity; he gave the im- 
 pression of one who had a real sense of the dignity 
 of life, despite his youth. 
 
 As he leant up against one side of the high fire- 
 place, his slight tall figure outlined against the grey 
 stone wall with its heavy design, he was nearly as 
 tall as Pan, and he had the same narrow virile hands 
 and feet, the same breadth of shoulder. He stayed 
 beside Pan and Doro, smoking imperturbably until 
 the dressing bell rang. 
 
 " Get a move on, Doro," he said then. " We've a 
 crowd dining, and we must be down." 
 He slid an arm through Doro's and led her away. 
 Pan watched them, his eyes narrowed. . . . 
 But he had his moment later, when Doro came 
 down early (he had known she would be early!) 
 wearing a white chiffon frock with a silver sash 
 and her first pearls, Tony's gift to her ; they lay like 
 clouded stars at dawn upon the faint rise of her 
 white breast. 
 
 "This," she told Pan, touching them, "is an 
 event ; did you know? Oh, but yes ! For we live for
 
 158 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 the first string of pearls, the real kind, not just 
 seed ones. When we attain the real ones we^re 
 grown up ! " w 
 
 " No pearls, no jewels ever made could make you 
 more beautiful than you are," Pan said very low. 
 
 " Oh ! " Doro said almost in a whisper; her colour 
 sped and returned under his words, like soft flames 
 driven by the wind. 
 
 Pan felt himself a little shaken ; again and again 
 he had realized there was a danger. Doro was too 
 vivid, too sensitive; he would need more control if 
 he went far in this white yet so intriguing passion. 
 His mouth felt a little dry now. He was seized 
 suddenly by an almost uncontrollable impulse to 
 kiss Doro; he mastered himself with an effort, a 
 visible one, for he paled. 
 
 " What is it? " Doro asked, her hand upon his 
 arm. 
 
 At that instant Tony appeared on the landing. 
 He bulked there blackly, his heavy face immobile, 
 but his small, deep-set eyes glowed for a moment. 
 
 Then he came down, treading very softly. 
 
 "Admirin' Doro's pearls, Pan?" he asked, halt- 
 ing beside her. 
 
 " They are lovely," Pan answered too quickly. 
 
 " She becomes 'em," Tony said in his rather 
 hoarse voice. He stopped speaking a moment, then 
 added broadly: "Wonder how many girls you've 
 given pearls to, Pan, eh? "
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 159 
 
 Then, chuckling huskily, he drew Doro on with 
 him towards the drawing-room. 
 
 She was nearly as tall as he, and he glanced at 
 her with needle-point scrutiny. 
 
 By God, had Pan made an impression already? 
 
 His dark face purpled at the thought. 
 
 Pan, with his list of amours, his rotten cheap 
 marriage, dishonourable attempt at divorce. . . . 
 
 He said abruptly to Doro : 
 
 " Run up to G and tell her I want her, will you? " 
 
 Pan had entered the room. He sat down now in a 
 big chair and drew an illustrated towards him. 
 
 Tony waited until Doro had disappeared, then 
 he crossed the room. 
 
 He stood beside Pan, looking down at him with 
 his impassive stare. Finally he said: 
 
 " I may be wrong. I hope I am. If I am not, then, 
 by God, you may go a beggar. D'you hear? " 
 
 "What on earth?" Pan asked indifferently, but 
 his eyelids flickered. 
 
 " You know all right," Tony said, his voice short 
 as if with suppressed savagery, " and I know you 
 know. One look at Doro that you should not give 
 and you go." 
 
 " I suppose," Pan said with assumed indolence, 
 " it would be quite useless for me to tell you that 
 your er what shall one call them suspicions 
 seems too important a word for an idea so foolish 
 are entirely unfounded? "
 
 160 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Tony gave a short laugh. He said nothing, but 
 stared at Pan, an ugly little smile on his lips, the 
 hot glow in his eyes. 
 
 " I've told you," he said contemptuously ; " you 
 can take it I mean it." He swung round with amaz- 
 ing swiftness for so big a man. " Hands off or no 
 allowance." 
 
 He walked to the fireplace, cut a cigar carefully, 
 and lit it. 
 
 To himself Pan was saying in inarticulate fury : 
 
 " Damn you, damn you, damn you." 
 
 He laboured under no delusion with regard to 
 Rexford's outlook; what he said he would do, he 
 would do. 
 
 Doro came back. She was singing Carmen softly ; 
 she danced into the room, her eyes seeking Pan, the 
 words, " Si je t'aime prends garde a toil " a chal- 
 lenge, a declaration to him. 
 
 She danced with muted castanets, her slender 
 hands making every gesture; and she danced as 
 Spanish women do with the lithe sway of the body, 
 like the stem of a flower bending. 
 
 "Tony, I'll be an opera singer yet," she cried 
 gaily ; " darling, I will. Cavini says "she used her 
 hands, imitating the Italian's florid manner " ' Ah, 
 but you are dee-vine a little later, yes you could 
 startle the worrld ! ' Think of it, Antonio, mio ! " 
 
 " Rather not," Tony said grimly. 
 
 Rex came in, and Doro showed him the pearls; 
 he glowed responsively.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 161 
 
 " Oh, I say ! How ripping, Doro ! " He turned 
 to his father, using almost his own words : " She 
 becomes them, sir, doesn't she? " 
 
 G, resplendent in black velvet and diamonds, sat 
 down at the piano and began to play an old-fash- 
 ioned polka. 
 
 "Come on, Doro," Rex urged. 
 
 They danced away together, Eex's limp scarcely 
 evident. 
 
 " ' See me dance the polka/ " he sang absurdly. 
 " G, what hearts have unburdened themselves to 
 you to this sprightly step?" 
 
 Doro's eyes sought Pan persistently, but he did 
 not glance at her. 
 
 One of love's "little fears" entered her heart, 
 chilling its warm happiness. 
 
 What had happened, on this day of all days? 
 Ail through the long dinner she tried to meet his 
 glance; he would not look at her. 
 
 But others did. Eichard Colefax, down from his 
 first term at Magdalen, pre-eminently therefore a 
 " blood," a man of the world, paid her extravagant 
 compliments, drank to her incessantly, his ardent 
 boyish face pale, his eyes aflame. Doro drank with 
 him, or with Christopher Arundel, whose dark 
 satiric face glowed on her. She had to divide her 
 dances. Pan had asked for none. 
 
 Again and again she danced past him, saw him, 
 yet feigned an utter unobservance.
 
 162 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 In one of the conservatories Richard Colefax 
 caught her hand. 
 
 " Oh I say, Doro " his voice was trembling 
 " you you're so so utterly lovely Doro ! " 
 
 His clasp was compelling, but Doro drew back. 
 
 Here was no swift fire leaping from hand to hand, 
 no wonderful maddening thrill which seemed to 
 sweep one's soul towards a passionate paradise. 
 Richard seemed like a toy, a marionette dancing 
 steps which were jerked from it by an unknown 
 power, and he did not matter, he did not count. 
 
 She led him back to the ballroom by the promise 
 of the next dance. Pan was near the door, and now, 
 for one full instant, Doro's eyes and his met; his 
 glance swerved to young Richard's white, set face, 
 and Doro saw his eyes narrow as she had noticed 
 they did only in moments of tension. 
 
 An unreasoning sense of triumph filled her, an 
 insane recklessness seemed to blaze up in the over- 
 excited mind. 
 
 "Ah! don't you want to dance with me, 
 Richard?" she asked softly, allure in her every 
 gesture, every tone of her voice. 
 
 " You know I do," he said vehemently. His arm 
 went round her, more closely than it need have 
 done, and deliberately, her gaze still on Pan, she 
 leant her head so near Richard's shoulder that his 
 lips touched her hair. 
 
 She stopped dancing when they neared Pan again 
 and walked slowly past him, talking with Richard.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 163 
 
 But, again in the conservatory, all the unnatural 
 triumph fled. 
 
 " I am so tired, Kichard," she said tonelessly. 
 
 " I'll get you some champagne," he answered 
 quickly ; " I won't be long. I saw a footman a 
 moment ago." 
 
 As he left the conservatory Pan entered it ; he was 
 smiling the little " fine " smile which gave his face 
 in some strange way a sharper outline. He crossed 
 to Doro, his lithe tread noiseless on the marble 
 floor, and stood before her. 
 
 " We can hear the band from here," he said un- 
 emotionally. " Will you not finish this with me? I 
 have indeed been on short commons to-night! 
 Aphrodite neglects her faithful subjects, I am in- 
 clined to think! The old law, familiarity, and so 
 forth!" 
 
 That bitter-sweet hurtness at his neglect which 
 had throbbed through her all the evening held Doro 
 silent. 
 
 She rose and let Pan dance with her; the music 
 came to them very faintly ; often they lost it as they 
 danced almost noiselessly under the deeply droop- 
 ing palms; somewhere a fountain played, and its 
 fall and ripple were audible as they went close to it ; 
 the conservatory was like a summer night after rain, 
 as humid, as adorably fragrant of bruised leaves 
 and growing flowers, and rich earth. . . . 
 
 It seemed to Doro as though, once in Pan's arms, 
 all pain and misery vanished, as if his touch held
 
 164 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 supreme happiness. She breathed in little panting 
 sighs, her lips parted, her eyes wide, almost implor- 
 ing. And once she drew Pan closer involuntarily, 
 and under that slight pressure his blood quickened 
 fiercely. 
 
 He answered it by drawing her nearer; and, at 
 the contact of her slender sweetness, the vision of 
 her face, drained now of its rose colour, but lovely 
 with a pale loveliness which intoxicated him, he 
 bent his head and kissed those parted lips, drawing 
 between his own the fluttering breath which came 
 and went. 
 
 " Doro ! " he whispered. 
 
 She did not answer, only her eyes mystic, rapt 
 fell beneath his glance, those white eyelids, so like 
 white wings, were as an emblem of adoring sur- 
 render. He kissed them, kissed the line of her bur- 
 nished hair where it sprang away so vitally from 
 her brow, kissed the dark eyelashes, and reached 
 her lips again. 
 
 Endless seemed those kisses which took and took, 
 which seemed to Doro to sink into her very soul, 
 to drain her being into Pan's. 
 
 There was a sound, faint, yet Pan heard it, and 
 in one second Doro found herself released, and Pan 
 was calling Richard's name urbanely. Uncon- 
 sciously, she put out a hand and caught at the edge 
 of the marble rim of the wide basin which held the 
 fountain; above her, about her, around her, there
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 165 
 
 seemed a mystery of golden tracery, of waving 
 leaves, of falling water like a silver veil. 
 
 She heard Eichard's voice as if from very far 
 away. 
 
 " You must drink this you are faint." 
 
 Mechanically she put her lips to the glass he held 
 and drank. 
 
 The trees became vast palms again, the fountain 
 was only a silver thread which rose and fell, she 
 could hear the echo of the music. 
 
 "I say" Richard's voice came to her "you 
 are simply dead tired, Doro. You mustn't dance any 
 more. We'll sit it out." 
 
 " I I think if you don't mind I'll go to my room," 
 Doro said; "if you don't mind, Richard." 
 
 He accompanied her to the foot of the stairs and 
 watched her out of sight. 
 
 Her own room was dark, and cool, and still. She 
 stood beside the window with closed eyes. It had 
 really happened it had been no dream of a rest- 
 lessly sweet night Pan and she had kissed he did 
 love her ... he did ... all the fears and doubts 
 were over, he loved her . . . her wonderful dream 
 god her king. . . . Oh, that to-night could ever 
 pass oh ! that it might have lasted for ever . . . 
 they two together at last . . . and all the happy- 
 unhappy strangeness done away with for ever. 
 
 Oh ! to die now utterly, utterly happy, with only 
 the memory of Pan's eyes gazing into hers, Pan's 
 lips drinking in her soul's love.
 
 166 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Her utter inexperience of love strove with the 
 flame-like nature of her adoration. Her mind seemed 
 as if it were lit by a tired blaze, its thoughts 
 caressed her, steeped her being in a golden warmth. 
 
 She slipped suddenly on to the deep window-seat 
 and, like a child, put her head down on her out- 
 stretched arms. 
 
 It was as if a violent storm had swept over her 
 and still, despite its passing, she lay spent and 
 exhausted by it; the "clear shining" was yet to 
 come. 
 
 She confused herself, was shy with herself, 
 triumphant, heavenly happy and yet afraid. Oh! 
 to have kept those moments, to live them again ! 
 
 To feel again in reality the wild rapture of that 
 first kiss of her whole life, to live it through again, 
 though whilst it had lasted she had wondered if she 
 were not dying in the ecstasy of passion which had 
 thrilled through her. 
 
 Some tiny voice had said within her : "This is the 
 end this is the end ! " 
 
 Then they had kissed again, and all that rapture 
 which had seemed as if it must break her heart by 
 its dominion had swept over her anew. Even now, 
 under her hand, her heart beat as if it would escape 
 its bondage. . . . 
 
 The door opened very, very cautiously. Doro 
 leant up, her hands pressed down on either side, 
 wide-eyed, listening. 
 
 And Pan's voice, Pan's, said : " Doro ! "
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 167 
 
 She had reached his arms before the word had 
 wholly left his lips. 
 
 In the darkness Pan's face went ashen; he held 
 her to him in an embrace which was madness, as 
 fiercely he put her away from him. 
 
 " I came," he said, stumbling on Ms words, such 
 words making his lips stiff in such an hour, " to 
 to Doro, we mustn't speak of this loving one 
 another yet. Do you understand? Rexford he'd 
 be furious. Promise me ... it shall be a secret 
 our secret " 
 
 " Oh, I promise, our heavenly secret the secret 
 of your heart and mine! Kiss me again, only kiss 
 me again ! " 
 
 Still he drew back, a confused feeling, which had 
 in it, miraculously, pity, surging over him. 
 
 Doro's lips brushed his, such a fugitive " young " 
 little kiss from one who knew no other kisses, but, 
 ah! who longed to learn. And she laughed a tiny 
 frightened little laugh after it, her hands on his 
 shoulders, all her white sweetness offering itself to 
 him so anxiously. 
 
 The world, their world seemed unutterably far 
 away ; for them there was but " the hiding and re- 
 ceiving night " as empire, and for music the beating 
 of their hearts. 
 
 Pan rested his hand upon Doro's heart. 
 
 " Is it mine? " 
 
 " It is all yours."
 
 168 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 And he felt it leap and strain beneath his hand 
 as if to reach him actually; for an instant he 
 thought of holding a dove within his hand, and 
 feeling its life* throb so. 
 
 He put his other arm about her, and with it drew 
 her to him in an embrace which, for Doro, robbed 
 Heaven of its hopes, its glories, its revelation. 
 
 Her very life seemed to float between her lips to 
 lose itself in Pan's love ; she felt as if she swooned 
 in ecstasy, half -magic pain, half -endless rapture. 
 
 Thoughts like golden falling stars flashed through 
 her mind, a world she had never dreamt could be 
 seemed to open before her eyes. Dimly, dimly, Pan's 
 voice reached her. 
 
 " I love you I love you." . . . 
 
 A door closed, and he had left her, left her with 
 a kiss half kissed upon her parted longing lips. 
 
 " Pan ! " she cried in a little broken whisper.. 
 
 There was no answer only the wind blew the 
 curtains gently inward, and they rippled like a 
 tiny wave upon the wainscoating. 
 
 He had gone it was over. 
 
 She walked to the window again, and found that 
 she was trembling so that even those few steps were 
 quite uncertain. But the window-seat received her 
 kindly, and she crouched down on it, her head 
 pillowed on her arm, her face upturned to the blue- 
 black sky with its mail of silver. 
 
 The night was not very cold; the wind had 
 changed since sunset and now blew softly ; a cloud
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 169 
 
 obscured the moon and the world was hid in soft, 
 shielding darkness. 
 
 Never before had the night seemed wonderful, 
 amazing, new almost, as it did now. 
 
 But now now suddenly it was the time of love, 
 the time when there need be no more concealing, no 
 more hesitation. 
 
 "Oh, I live, I live!" Doro told herself. "And 
 oh! the rest of time is mine to love him Pan 
 Pan."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 "Passion and heart's desire, 
 All of youth's splendid fire 
 To you alone I gave. 
 I bade red roses wave, 
 I raised a monument 
 To mark the way you went " 
 
 THE morning was an ordeal. Doro kept Emilia 
 with her a long while ; twice she changed her 
 frock. At last it was impossible to linger any 
 longer, however much her shyness deepened. She 
 clasped Tony's pearls round her throat and ran 
 downstairs. 
 
 And, after all, she need not have felt so nervous. 
 Pan was not there ! 
 
 Eex was waiting for her. He got her hot toast 
 and coffee, and inquired about each little dish 
 which stood above its flame. 
 
 " Just this," Doro said. 
 
 " Saving up for dinner? " Rex inquired. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 They laughed. 
 
 " Where did you get to? " Rex asked next. " Last 
 night, I mean? I hunted everywhere for you till 
 Colefax told me with a superior air that he had 
 advised you to rest! I say, Doro, old Dickie has 
 also gone up up the pole, or to the stars, or wher- 
 
 170
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 171 
 
 ever you like to call the ascent towards true love ! 
 He raves, he dithers. What d'you think of him ? " 
 
 He spoke lightly, but his eyes were serious. 
 
 " Oh, I don't think at all," Doro answered. 
 
 " We'll see no end of him this vac, though." 
 
 He sat down on the broad leather fender-seat. 
 
 " I say, Doro, I wonder who you will marry? " 
 
 Doro felt the colour race to her face. She said 
 confusedly : 
 
 " Oh, don't be an idiot, Rex ! " 
 
 The door opened and Pan came in. 
 
 " We were discussing Doro's marriage," Rex said 
 urbanely. "What's your view on this momentous 
 question, Pan?" 
 
 " Does our view, yours or mine matter? Isn't 
 our outlook arranged for us, doled out to us by that 
 of Doro? " Pan answered. He searched amongst 
 the silver dishes leisurely. 
 
 Rex hung on ; Doro stood by the fireplace. At last 
 Pan rose. Doro waited now with a sense of almost 
 suffocating tension. Pan spoke to Rex. 
 
 " Coming for a tramp? One must do something 
 on this sort of day ! " 
 
 "Thanks, I don't think I will. I want to save 
 myself for hunting next week." 
 
 " I'll come," Doro said. 
 
 " Good ; I'll be down in a few minutes." 
 
 Doro went off too, to have her boots put on. Rex 
 stayed beside the fire; he smiled to himself; the 
 smile matched the bleak dreariness of the day. 

 
 172 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He was thinking : " He knows I can't walk much 
 yet; he only asked me because he knew " 
 
 Outside, cutting across the short, hard grass, Pan 
 said: 
 
 " You played up very well ! " 
 
 "Played up?" Doro's eyes were wide. 
 
 " I meant you to break in just as you did." 
 
 " Then I'm glad I did, but I didn't know. I " 
 she flashed an enchanting smile at Pan " I had to 
 be alone with you, I felt, and this seemed such a 
 chance." 
 
 " Oh youth ! " Pan's " morning after " soul sighed 
 within him; he deplored this blatant frankness; 
 intrigue to him was one of the joys of a love affair. 
 To be unconscious of its very existence, and to admit 
 one's crime ! 
 
 It was indeed the morning after in good earnest ! 
 
 Yet, as he glanced at Doro the day seemed fairer ; 
 she was so slight and sweet, a somehow splendid 
 thing in her boyish tweeds, a felt hat crammed down 
 on her bright hair, an absurd little jay feather 
 thrust into its black ribbon, her eyes holding stars 
 within their depths as she met his glance. 
 
 She thrust a gloved hand through his arm. 
 
 " Pan " 
 
 He looked back at the house to see if they could 
 be glimpsed, decided not, and pressed the hand 
 resting on his arm. 
 
 Gorgeous rose-colour flamed in Doro's face. 
 
 " Oh, Pan I thought you had forgotten and it
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 173 
 
 really happened ! I keep telling myself that. I say : 
 ' It really happened it happened he loves me, lie 
 kissed me.' Pan " 
 
 " Yes, Aphrodite? " 
 
 " Pan, couldn't you? Just a little baby one, even 
 if it is morning time? " It's Christmas time, too, 
 when one is expected to be generous ! " 
 
 Her eager, so untouched vividness thrilled him 
 despite the " after " mood, his caution, his resolu- 
 tion to " slow back." 
 
 Yet, even so, he drew Doro towards the little 
 copse Tony had just planted, and kissed her there 
 between the little innocent silver beech trees which 
 afforded, after all, scant protection, and needed it 
 themselves, indeed ! 
 
 In this white light, a stable clock chiming eleven 
 somewhere, Pan felt out of tune with kissing; a 
 winter's morning, walking over stubble-land, was 
 not the hour or place for romance. 
 
 Or only untried youth could find it so ! 
 
 And now Doro asked : 
 
 " Why must we be secret about loving, Pan? " 
 
 Pan gave a little laugh which held no amusement. 
 
 " Because Kexford decrees it." 
 
 "But how did he know? We didn't till till we 
 kissed. If I just told him, he'd be all right." 
 
 Pan stopped in his stride; he stood before Doro 
 holding her hands. 
 
 " Look here, you mustn't tell Rexford. I cannot 
 explain yet; later I will. But give me your word
 
 174 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 our secret shall be ours till I set you free from 
 your promise." 
 
 " I promise, Pan." 
 
 Her face was lifted to his, he bent and kissed the 
 cool mouth which was so near, and then, despite the 
 winter morn and stubble-land, kissed it again and 
 again, until its coldness changed to soft flame which 
 lit his being to passion. 
 
 Beneath the white arc of the hard sky they stood 
 and kissed, hands entwined, dark head and shining 
 head leaning to one another. 
 
 They stood so still that a rabbit, which had come 
 up to take a breath of fresh air, sat and watched 
 them carelessly, and a robin near by broke into gay 
 singing. 
 
 From a distant hill, Tony, riding back slowly 
 from Pointers, saw their two figures. He pulled up 
 his horse; his sight was keen, his range long; he 
 sat on the hill gazing and thinking. 
 
 An anger like a choking fever seized him; he 
 panted for breath, and pulled with twitching fingers 
 at his soft stock ; his face grew purple, his lips had 
 a bluish line about them. 
 
 He watched until the two figures drew apart, then 
 he wheeled his horse and rode towards the house. 
 
 Doro said to Pan, her voice divinely shaken : 
 
 " Oh, Pan Pan I love you I love you ! " 
 
 Her eyes roamed beyond him, and she saw the 
 absurd rabbit. 
 
 " Eavesdropper ! " she laughed deliciously.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 175 
 
 Pan had changed colour; he swung round 
 violently, and saw a glint of grey fur. 
 
 Doro explained. 
 
 But he seemed rather dk trait ; in his mind he was 
 telling himself it was " devilish open thereabouts 
 whatever induced me ? " 
 
 Still, after all, kissing a pretty girl was not a 
 crime ! 
 
 If Doro came by no greater hurt than his kisses, 
 her life would not be one of deep distress ! 
 
 Rexford was a surley old fool; his dog-in-the- 
 manger attitude was ridiculous. Did he suppose a 
 girl like Doro, a girl quick with southern fire and 
 longing, was likely to go through life unkissed? 
 
 At that instant in his business room, to which he 
 retreated whenever he wished to think (interpret 
 sleep generally), Tony was pacing up and down, 
 his teeth shut on a pipe, his big hands locked behind 
 his back. 
 
 As Pan had thought with cynical, cheap disparage- 
 ment of Doro's youth, its promise, the penalties life 
 might exact from it, so Tony thought of her as a 
 little girl, shod in emerald-green, as a bigger girl 
 riding for the first time beside him, racing to him 
 on her fifteenth birthday, and hugging him wildly 
 for his gift of a hunter. . . . 
 
 Pan touching that straight sweetness, soiling it 
 with his caresses. . . . 
 
 By God he caught a glimpse of himself in a tiny 
 old mirror, and he stood still, staring.
 
 176 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Did he really look like that? 
 
 He made a singular effort and controlled his 
 anger. 
 
 For one second he had felt the power of his two 
 hands as if, in reality, he had held Pan's throat 
 between them, and that sudden vision of himself in 
 the little mirror had shown him the savage in 
 himself. 
 
 All his interest in women, since Francesca's 
 death, had come to centre in Doro; peculiarly his, 
 from the very first, he had felt even when he had 
 learnt of Rex's coming, that no other child would 
 quite take her place with him. 
 
 Francesca's death had deepened the belonging 
 between them, and perhaps because Doro had been 
 so much the desire of his dream, the embodiment 
 of his longing, she had seemed more his than the 
 actual flesh of his flesh had done. 
 
 So much gaiety of life, gladness had come with 
 her and, as well, the attainment of his will; that 
 counted too ! 
 
 Soiled, spoilt by Pan a man he despised, and 
 with every reason ; the old furious resentment flared 
 up in him again. 
 
 He rose from his deep chair and plodded heavily 
 to the window. Ah ! He saw them ; they were cross- 
 ing the park ; they would be in soon. He rang and 
 gave orders. Mr. Greville was to be sent to him as 
 soon as he returned. Then he waited.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 177 
 
 Pan came in on light feet, armed with suspicion, 
 but outwardly careless. 
 
 Tony said to him : 
 
 " I saw you in the east plantation." 
 
 Pan made no answer; he was debating his best 
 course, and he found no easy choice. 
 
 Tony kicked a log into place violently, wheeled, 
 faced him again. 
 
 " You will be called to town, en route for Paris," 
 he said harshly. " I suppose a wire can reach you 
 to-morrow? " 
 
 " My dear chap ! " Pan murmured. He took out 
 his cigarette-case and chose a cigarette. 
 
 A great weight settled down on Tony's heart. 
 
 " Well? " he demanded on too sharp a note. 
 
 Pan permitted himself a smile. 
 
 " I am not enamoured of Hurstpoint," he said 
 smoothly, " but I resent being booted out of it. And 
 Paris is so rowdy at the New Year. Besides " his 
 brilliant eyes had been studying Tony's face 
 " whatever you do, or do not do, my dear Tony, the 
 issue of this matter rests with me." 
 
 He saw Tony's hands clench and unclench. 
 
 As if brute strength could match subtlety ! 
 
 The little contemptuous smile flickered across his 
 lips again. 
 
 "Why should not Doro love me?" he asked 
 quietly. " I may get free." 
 
 Tony took a step towards him and stopped.
 
 178 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Love you? " he echoed thickly. " You? By gad, 
 you ask me that, knowing I know, knowing all 
 I know." He moved his head once from side to side 
 as if he were in pain, then turned away and stared 
 out tor a very long time at the winter-bound land. 
 
 The issue lay with Pan that was true. 
 
 Unless Pan chose could be made to choose to 
 give Doro up entirely, could be forced, made to 
 accept his decision ! 
 
 Humiliation at his powerlessness dragged at 
 Tony's stubborn heart. He swung round on Pan 
 with sudden force. 
 
 " If you will go to Paris to-morrow, swear not to 
 write make Doro think you have simply forgotten, 
 I will double your allowance." 
 
 They eyed one another for an instant, 
 
 " If you stay you will not receive one penny," 
 Tony finished dully. 
 
 " And to beg, I am ashamed ! " Pan quoted with 
 sneering bitterness. 
 
 "You have the choice," Tony returned im- 
 placably. 
 
 Pan looked at him between narrowed lids, hating 
 him with an intensity which surprised himself. His 
 mind broke its thought upon the treadmill of his 
 anxiety to find a way out, and yet save himself. 
 
 He had been covered, and had no weapon where- 
 with to fight. 
 
 What would it profit him to refuse? Rexford
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 179 
 
 would turn him out of Hurstpoint, Doro be in- 
 accessible. . . . 
 
 His smarting vanity seized on these facts; they 
 held by their very naturalness and unavoidable 
 truth, their inaccessible obviousness, some balm of 
 healing for him. 
 
 Only a fool battled for a cause already lost. 
 
 He met Tony's savage stare and shrugged his 
 shoulders slightly. 
 
 " You make a vast to-do about nothing. Very 
 well, I consent." 
 
 They looked again at one another, and after a 
 pause Pan went out. 
 
 He carried with him a sense of humiliation which 
 was like a poisoned goad. If Tony had felt murder- 
 ous towards him, he felt towards Tony a desire to 
 stab in the dark, and stab again. 
 
 Doro was singing in the music-room. He could 
 hear her voice as if no corridor nor wing of the 
 house intervened. 
 
 She was singing an Italian song, a thing of 
 warmth, and sheerly delightful prettiness. 
 
 His heart beat suffocatingly for an instant as he 
 stood there listening; he had meant Doro to be a 
 passing affair, his intercourse with her a trifle of 
 charming words, a kiss or two no more. He had 
 the sense, in that empty corridor, of having thought 
 to step down a safe stairway, and of finding him- 
 self poised, hanging by his hands to one frail sup- 
 port, above a void.
 
 180 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He had always withdrawn himself so easily be- 
 fore there had been a scene. He had left, and quite 
 simply, for him, the affair had been ended. 
 
 But this time? 
 
 Doro sang on. She had chosen a little French 
 song, and faintly the words reached Pan. He knew 
 them, of course. 
 
 " Seule, elle pent mon mal guerir " 
 
 He visioned her so easily, that slim white throat 
 back flung, the shining head and translucent green 
 eyes, her parted scarlet lips all his, all his for the 
 taking ; more his than she knew herself, more than 
 he had the right to think. 
 
 But he did think. He let his mind dwell on that 
 thought whilst Doro sang ; and baffled, hungry anger 
 grew in him, dominated him. 
 
 Thoughts which were abominable came to him, 
 thoughts without honour, of infinite baseness. 
 
 It lay within his will still to beat down Kex- 
 ford's power to the lowest dust, to force him to 
 terms. 
 
 God! to do that, to smash that hellish pride to 
 atoms ! 
 
 He waited a littje longer, his darkly golden eyes 
 opaque between their heavy lids, then he went on 
 to the music-room. 
 
 He saw only Doro in it ; he did not see the convex 
 mirror hanging directly above the piano, which re- 
 flected her face. In a chair, hidden away, Rex was
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 181 
 
 lying listening, watching Doro as she sang, in the 
 mirror above her head. 
 
 He saw Pan's face, he saw Doro's eyes as she met 
 that glance of Pan's. 
 
 He got up instantly so that they might both real- 
 ize his presence, though Doro, of course, had known 
 he was there. 
 
 He waited a moment, made some pleasantly triv- 
 ial remark, then sauntered away. One of those odd 
 fancies which drift across one's mind when it is 
 distressed came to him to seek refuge in his father's 
 workroom. 
 
 He walked along to it, Mck III beside him. 
 
 His father rose at his entrance. 
 
 " Sorry," Rex said, " I didn't know you were here. 
 I was just just mouching about." 
 
 Tony nodded. He glanced at his son, away from 
 him. 
 
 He asked him jerkily : 
 
 " Seen Doro? " 
 
 " She's in the music-room was a minute ago." 
 
 "Seen Greville?" 
 
 " He came into the room as I left." 
 
 Tony shot him another hard stare, absently patted 
 Mck, and after a moment's hesitation walked O'lt. 
 
 Rex took Nick's head between his hands. 
 
 " He wanted to tell me something, old man," he 
 said; " he'd have liked to, but he's so dashed shut-in 
 he can't speak easily when he's bothered. Nick, old
 
 182 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 son, it's Doro and that beast Greville. What'll we 
 do about it?" 
 
 Nick snuggled against his ankle. 
 
 "Because he's a greasy swine," Bex went on 
 gently ; " that describes him, old son ; he's all that 
 and more. I've heard men speak of him now and 
 again, and when men do say anything well, it's 
 generally long after they might have done." 
 
 He stood up, and Mck sprang on to Tony's so- 
 called writing-table, and gazed eagerly out of the 
 window, too. 
 
 " Of course, I can't be just to him because I hate 
 him," Hex said. " I did as a kid, and a kid's likes 
 and dislikes are amazingly sound, I've come to 
 think. They know, and haven't any further trouble 
 about it, whilst when we're grown up we're in- 
 fluenced by outside considerations, we weigh quali- 
 ties oh ! we're idiots. Kids like you, Nick, know" 
 
 He went in to lunch, wondering rather, and found 
 to his relief a crowd of people had ridden or driven 
 over. 
 
 All the afternoon they played a game of poker ; in 
 the evening there was to be another dance, at the 
 Colefax's this time. 
 
 " I'll drive you over," Doro," Eex said to her ; 
 " we'll have the coupe", and if we break down, God 
 help us ! " 
 
 His father was looking at him ; he gave a quick 
 grunt of approval now.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 183 
 
 "We'll follow and pick up the fragments," he 
 said, attempting jollity. 
 
 Doro came down to Hex in the white chiffon dress, 
 covered by a chinchilla coat, which had a lining of 
 sheer-gold softest satin. She seemed to bloom out 
 of it like a tiger lily, all whiteness, goldenness, 
 blackness of lashes and long eyebrows. 
 
 " Indeed, yes" Kex answered gravely. 
 
 On the way there Doro leant against him happily. 
 She longed to tell Kex the secret, he always under- 
 stood ; but she did not dream of breaking her word. 
 
 Only it would have been so exciting just to say, 
 " Kex I love Pan and he loves me ! " 
 
 Kex would perhaps make some caustic, nice sort 
 of remark. 
 
 Suddenly now he spoke: 
 
 "Happy, Doro?" 
 
 She gave a little laugh. 
 
 "Why do you ask? Yes, of course." 
 
 "'Fessup!" 
 
 Then he guessed. But he must not. 
 
 " Did I sound guilty? " she asked. 
 
 " No, on the contrary, only very happy." 
 
 "I can't tell you, old boy," Doro said quickly, 
 her hand on his for a moment ; " directly I can I 
 will." 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " All right." 
 
 The car swung in between high gates, and then 
 sped up the straight avenue to the house, which
 
 184 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 gleamed out of the darkness like a giant Christmas 
 tree, with its myriad lights and central turreted 
 tower cut in a dark point against the sky. 
 
 A moment later Rex and Doro were the centre 
 of a group of people, all laughing, all excited, all 
 young and at one with life. 
 
 Doro's mood met theirs. She flamed into the 
 midst of them triumphantly, to be acclaimed in- 
 stantly by young Richard and borne away to " try " 
 the floor. 
 
 The band had just come, and Eichard asked them 
 to play. He and Doro danced alone on a perfect 
 floor to perfect time. 
 
 Doro looked over Richard's shoulder to see Pan 
 in the doorway, and as their glances met, that sweet 
 delight raced through her veins which she felt 
 always now under his touch, his look. 
 
 A hideous bitterness went like some noxious, suf- 
 focating wave over Pan's soul. In that instant he 
 loved Doro and hated Rexford with the same savage 
 intensity. 
 
 He had not loved her before, she had been such 
 easy winning ; but now that she was out of his reach 
 forever, the unattainable became, as it does with a 
 certain type of nature, a nature which has been 
 systematically indulged, for ever to be desired. 
 
 At home, years before, as a little boy, it had been 
 ordained that Pasquale must never be " crossed," 
 his will thwarted; later in life his looks, his un- 
 deniable charm had assisted at the continuance of
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 185 
 
 this regime, whilst Pasquale's own nature, inclined 
 to headlong wilfulness, had allowed that wilfulness 
 to degenerate into headlong self-indulgence. 
 
 To be baulked by a man like Rexford, a thick fool 
 whose only weapon was the chance of his birth, 
 which gave him power. . . . 
 
 Pan stared at Doro and Kichard, dancing to- 
 gether so lightly that they seemed to float over the 
 shining floor. The vision of her thus, secure in the 
 arms of this stocky, self-satisfied youth, intensified 
 his sick resentment; to his tortured imagination it 
 was as if Richard's arms were a conventional barri- 
 cade cutting Doro off from his pursuit. 
 
 A resurgence of that venomous desire for revenge 
 which had overwhelmed him after his interview 
 with Rexford was upon him. He stood staring with 
 half -dropped lids at Doro, intensely aware of her, 
 intent on making her equally aware of him. 
 
 He saw the rose-colour hesitate in her face as she 
 met his dark glance, and as the music stopped she 
 came towards him. 
 
 " Shall we dance, too, before the others coine? " 
 she asked quickly. 
 
 For answer, he made a signal to the band and put 
 his arm round her. 
 
 For a moment they stood so, and Pan could feel, 
 under his hard enclosing arm, Doro's heart beating 
 frantically. 
 
 He knew his power, and at that instant he both 
 hated and desired her hated her for his own power-
 
 186 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 lessness to use his power, and desired her for her 
 loveliness, the promise her innocence and youth 
 gave of a wildly sweet surrender. 
 
 It is possible for a man of certain intensely selfish 
 qualities to feel the enemy of the woman he loves; 
 that feeling held Pan now. He longed to exert the 
 power he dared not, in order to win back for him- 
 self his sense of sovereignty and to humiliate 
 Rexford. 
 
 Passionately he longed to "get at" Tony to 
 wound him beyond bearing for having hurt his 
 pride, lowered him in his own esteem. 
 
 Wounded vanity is the strongest incentive to 
 baseness that exists ; few women forgive that slight, 
 even fewer men, and Pan had never laid claim to 
 any form of God-head. He was of the earth, earthy, 
 only, he would have declaimed laughingly, of an 
 exotic earth. 
 
 But any form of thraldom very quickly strips the 
 polished shell of conventional cultivation from a 
 man. 
 
 Pan, holding Doro in an almost fierce grip, whis- 
 pering words to her which were like perfume upon a 
 flame, had lost his grip on the smooth realities of 
 life. Passion had swung him far out from his nor- 
 mal, indifferent enjoyment; his hurt pride had 
 swung him further from that suave acceptance of 
 life of which he made languid boast. 
 
 It was as if he had been swept by a tempest and 
 the old landmarks were gone; thoughts he would
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 187 
 
 have gibed at as melodramatic, cheaply sentimental, 
 thronged his mind now. 
 
 He bent his head until his lips rested on Doro's 
 shining hair. She could feel his breath like a caress, 
 and she shivered a little in his arms. That look 
 which children have sometimes of utter trust and 
 unquestioning obedience was in the eyes she lifted 
 to his, but in hers it was mingled with clearest 
 adoration the white worship of a dawn-time 
 sacrifice. . . . 
 
 Pan realized his moment, the gift this glance 
 meant. 
 
 He struck with his caress of passionate words at 
 the frail barrier of Doro's inexperience. 
 
 "Every pulse in my body cries out for you 
 that's how I love you," he said very low. 
 
 It was the first love speech he had ever made to 
 her, and under the spell of its demand, its surren- 
 der, its intoxicating meaning, Doro quivered; she 
 paled to intense whiteness beneath his glance. Be- 
 tween her parted lips the words, " I love you," 
 seemed to flow without conscious volition, as if, 
 indeed, they were the utterance of her soul and 
 beyond the control of bodily expression. 
 
 The music was ending. Pan looked into the eyes 
 lifted in sweet worship to his own. Once such utter 
 compliance with his will would have irritated him ; 
 he was not of those for whom the best, in the sense 
 of the finest, has allure. He preferred virtue spiced,
 
 188 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 never au naturel; but for the moment in his desire 
 for victory he welcomed this entire submission. 
 
 "Doro," he whispered, and watched her eyes 
 dilate until their greenness seemed almost golden 
 round the black pupils. " Doro, in case we do not 
 dance. . . . Yes, Kexf ord saw us this morning . . . 
 he was is intensely angry . . . will you meet me 
 at one, in the avenue? I will wait for you in the 
 shadow, and we can have a moment together? " 
 
 He released her as the music stopped, and in- 
 stantly Kichard claimed her. 
 
 It was nearly eleven ; there were two hours to be 
 spent. 
 
 He went into the bridge-room and joined Tony, 
 Pembroke and John Colefax, taking a malicious 
 pleasure in spoiling Rexford's interest in the game 
 by his presence. 
 
 They played high, and Pan lost persistently. Of 
 course, Colefax, who was a bluff, decent sort with 
 his useful ideas, the management of his place, and 
 a knowledge of wine, made the inevitable remark : 
 
 "She spoils you, eh, Greville?" said he with a 
 wag of his head. 
 
 " I'm devilish lucky," Pan agreed suavely, watch- 
 ing Rexford's flushed, hard face. 
 
 " Good as all that," Colefax pursued, grinning. 
 
 From the ballroom the echo of the music came; 
 it was twelve o'clock. 
 
 "Another rubber?" Rexford suggested. All 
 agreed. Half -past twelve.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 189 
 
 " I have the next five dances booked," Pan said. 
 He paid his losses and walked away. 
 
 He felt utterly disinclined to go into the ball- 
 room, and went quickly through a side passage to a 
 small door and let himself out. The clear, cold air 
 was like a draught of champagne, the stars points 
 of white flame, the shadows, cut by the moonlight, 
 so dark as to seem ebon-black. 
 
 A sense of cruel power filled Pan an overmas- 
 tering desire to exert that power to its fullest. 
 
 The weather had changed, the apple-green sunset 
 with its sliver of orange fire had foretold frost, and 
 already the ground rang iron-hard, the wind cut 
 sharply. 
 
 Pan felt no cold. One of those wildly unreason- 
 able, half -fantastic moods of irrational love in which 
 a lover as willingly wounds as adores, had been bred 
 in him slowly but surely by the events of the last 
 days. 
 
 He waited without anxiety, his mind swept first 
 by one unreasoning mood, then by another. There 
 was about him that hardness which can make so 
 much misery for a woman, a perverse hardness, 
 which harboured the wish to let a wrong rankle, 
 which would enjoy the prolongation of another's 
 unhappiness because it would minister to the need 
 of his pride, and which, so utterly grotesque was it, 
 could include a sense of almost savage grudge 
 against the very being whom he loved, simply be- 
 cause, through her, he himself had been laid open,
 
 190 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 by the discovery of his love for her, to this madden- 
 ing defeat by Kexford. 
 
 The feeling, senseless as it was, resembled that 
 experienced sometimes by a person who has sus- 
 tained an accident and who for evermore bears a 
 grudge against the place where it happened. 
 
 It is wholly silly and paltry, as is all resentment, 
 the reason for which has been our own chosen 
 action. . , . 
 
 One o'clock struck out clearly, almost triumph- 
 antly, and at that instant Pan saw Doro emerge 
 from the house, a shadowy figure, hesitant for an 
 instant, then approaching him directly. 
 
 To-morrow might be Paris, absence, hell for all 
 he cared. This one hour of the night was his to do 
 with as he chose. 
 
 Doro was beside him, in his arms, their lips met, 
 and for Doro it seemed as if all of life, until the 
 moment Pan had loved her, had only existed to 
 ensure the miracle of this kiss, which flamed 
 through her, paled in its passion, flamed again, and 
 swept her into deathless space in which only Pan's 
 soul and hers had place, which swept her through 
 whirling circles of delight, so intense, it seemed, 
 that life was leaving her, that feeling so one could 
 not live come back to earth again. . . . 
 
 In reality, she drooped in Pan's arms, lay faint- 
 ing against his heart, her eyes closed, her lips pale 
 for all their kissed passion, her heart failing her.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 191 
 
 Pan laughed softly above the white blossom of 
 her face, his arms tightened round her. 
 
 " Aphrodite, come back to me. ... I want you 
 darling speak to me look at me " 
 
 He bent his head and began to whisper between 
 her lips, words of flame which should relight the 
 eager ardour of her love, stir again that delicately 
 wild rapture which shook her in his embrace like a 
 leaf torn by a spring tempest. 
 
 Doro lay still, her lashes the only clear colour on 
 her face. 
 
 Pan leant his warm cheek to hers. 
 
 " This is our hour before the dawn, our one hour 
 to remember always." 
 
 Doro stirred. Those words pierced the enfolding 
 veils of weary ecstasy; they semeed to her over- 
 strung mind to hold a menace. Her eyes opened, 
 darkly questioning. 
 
 " You do not mean to leave me . . . to go away? " 
 
 Her words forced Pan against some explanation ; 
 he recognized this moment to be propitious to 
 himself. 
 
 He said swiftly : 
 
 " I have told you Eexford has been very " He 
 
 gave a short, angry laugh; even in this hour he 
 could not stifle his resentment. " Rexford has been 
 damnably officious." 
 
 "But but he can't separate us?" Doro asked. 
 "Why, Pan why should Tony be hard, he isn't
 
 192 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 usually. Shall I tell him? Let me; I know I could 
 make him understand." 
 
 The irony of his position afforded Pan a mo- 
 ment's cheap amusement, but it brought with it the 
 realization that some sufficiently good reason must 
 be offered Doro. He offered the sentimental one 
 which never fails to sweep a woman's heart strings 
 when she loves a man. 
 
 " Eexford thinks I am too old for you." 
 
 He was sure of the answering cry, but such reck- 
 less, eager denial touched him a little. 
 
 "You old? You " Doro gave a little derisive 
 
 laugh, a real laugh ; she could afford to be amused 
 at such poor criticism of her god. As though age 
 could touch that faultless face, the thick, thick hair 
 which looked so crisp in the sunlight and felt so 
 soft to touch. 
 
 " Seventeen and forty," Pan murmured, his lips 
 on hers. 
 
 But even for kisses Doro could not listen to a 
 hint of heresy. 
 
 She said softly : 
 
 "Eighteen nearly, darlingest! And let's halve 
 the difference of our ages and both be twenty-nine ; 
 that's a good age, and one at which all pretty women 
 stop, G says ! " 
 
 Pan laughed a little strainedly. He had no wish 
 for this mood of gaiety; it did not fit into the 
 scheme of things just then.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 193 
 
 He chilled Doro's little happiness by saying 
 abruptly : 
 
 " Kexford is adamant on the subject of my love 
 for you. So that our happiness, its future, lies in 
 your hands." 
 
 He lifted one soft drooping arm, and kissed it 
 from finger-tip to elbow, his lips lingering in that 
 white warmness. 
 
 "Ah, darling," Doro whispered, kindling to his 
 caress. She wound her white arm about that dark 
 head with a sudden gesture of sweet protection, and 
 drew it close against her heart. Pan could feel the 
 violent, young pulsation against his cheek ; it roused 
 in him a quickening of his own heart, a swifter fire 
 beat in him than he had ever felt. 
 
 He locked his arms about Doro, and heard her 
 give a little startled cry, and stifled it on her lips 
 with -his own pressed hard upon them. 
 
 All his scheming, his plan to outwit Kexford, to 
 tread him underfoot, fled from him in this moment ; 
 he was, for the time being, a lover in every fibre; 
 discreet emotion, which could be weighed, which 
 was to have fashioned a weapon wherewith to attain 
 his pride's satisfaction, had been swept away. He 
 only knew Doro was in his arms, all her soft grace 
 crushed against him. The perfume of her hair, her 
 skin was like a sweetly maddening drug to his 
 senses; in her lips there seemed to be a magic 
 potion, which he drank and drank and which filled 
 him with delirious passion.
 
 194 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Words of love burnt Mm as he thought them ; he 
 said brokenly between his ravening kisses : 
 
 " Mine mine, Doro Aphrodite I am at your 
 feet worshipping you worshipping you this 
 once this once before I go. I am at the gates of 
 Paradise Aphrodite, can you not hear my implora- 
 tion? Ah, if you loved me if you loved me as I 
 love you, you could deny me nothing. ..." 
 
 At that reproach which love can never hear un- 
 shaken, Doro gave a little wounded cry ; she could 
 speak no words. The thrall of utter passion, first, 
 whitest, most utterly consuming, was on her, and 
 she had a vision of Pan's face, his eyes like dark 
 flames; his vivid face seemed to her to bear some 
 mystic imprint. The wildness of his kisses had 
 loosened her hair; one strand, warm and fragrant 
 like a flower the sun has caressed, slid between his 
 lips and hers. 
 
 He bound it about his throat, a living bond hold- 
 ing one to the other ; and that action alone, the fact 
 he could do such a thing, he, who sneered at every 
 least deviation from the accepted code, even in his 
 affairs of love, signalized the utter sway of the 
 moment upon him. 
 
 They stood in the enshrouding darkness, as lovers 
 have stood for all time, immortalized by this instant 
 of sheer worship, touched by youth eternal. . . . 
 
 To Doro this moment seemed unreal ; the place, 
 she was, and was not, this trembling being clasped 
 to her lover by a strand of soft bright hair. Pan
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 195 
 
 was no earthly lover, but love itself, the one mystic, 
 divine power which gave happiness, and ah! such 
 passionate delight, a feeling so intense it exhausted 
 whilst it exalted. . . . 
 
 Little broken words, incoherent, helpless, fell 
 between them. " Kiss me. Ah, you do you do 
 
 don't you my beautiful my love -" And again 
 
 and again that reiteration which lover seeks from 
 lover and never hears enough, " my own." 
 
 A clock chimed, a bird stirred and called sleepily. 
 " Doro," Pan pleaded, whispering, " I am going 
 to drive you home now. We shall be alone you 
 and I you and I. Wait here." 
 
 He ran from her arms across the white-lit patch 
 into the shadow again; she heard his light steps 
 grow fainter, cease. 
 
 It seemed so strange to be alone here, a roof of 
 slenderest sable tracery overhead, through which, 
 like jewels, the stars shone. She felt cut off from 
 the world, as if she had escaped beyond it. 
 
 From the house the sound of the music floated 
 on the still, cold afr; it seemed to mingle with the 
 sweet confusion of her brain, to sway to the rhythm 
 of those passionately dear words, " My own my 
 beautiful," and the little tender homeliness, " My 
 darling." 
 
 A car slid into sight, stopped. Pan drew her in, 
 wrapped her in furs, had her close to him by one 
 arm, and drove recklessly forward with his free 
 hand.
 
 196 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 All of her thrilled to this new contact. Her shoul- 
 der was against Pan's, his arm drew her ever 
 nearer; they rushed through the night, and it 
 seemed, too, to open its arms to them and call, 
 " Come come." 
 
 Pan stopped the car for a moment, and bent above 
 her. 
 
 " I must " 
 
 And he drank the kisses from her young mouth 
 as a traveller drinks in the desert after long wan- 
 dering. 
 
 " Ah ! to have you wholly in my arms t his way." 
 He touched the thick fur robe. 
 
 Ah, to lie in his arms, so close. . . .
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "No coward may accept ease bravely." TACITUS. 
 
 ON the terrace Rex lit a cigarette, then 
 listened. 
 
 Someone had started up a car. He lis- 
 tened more intently. 
 
 His car surely? And equally surely, running 
 swiftly now? 
 
 He had a very boyish love indeed, a most ex- 
 clusive and unassailable love and knowledge of his 
 car. 
 
 He had really come out to look for Doro and 
 Pan ; but now he limped away towards the stable- 
 yard where the cars had all been parked. Their 
 own man, who had driven in Rexford, Pembroke 
 and Pan, was looking beyond the gate. 
 
 " Did you start up the car? " Rex asked. 
 
 " No, sir, Mr. Greville's took it, sir, and then he 
 picked up Miss Doro." 
 
 " Where's he gone? " Rex said quietly. " Which 
 road? " 
 
 " Rexworth, sir ; going >ome, I think, sir." 
 
 " I see," Rex nodded. " All right." 
 
 He walked away at an even pace until he was out 
 of sight, then he began to run ; he ran almost well, 
 
 197
 
 198 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 he had practised for years ; now he started at a fair 
 pace. 
 
 His thoughts kept time to his speed. 
 
 " Through the beech wood, then the cut across the 
 stream, then the long meadow down it, it was long 
 too then the home hill, down it and then " 
 
 He was quite aware why he was going, but his 
 supposition happened to be incorrect; he believed 
 (Pembroke had been fairly explicit in his descrip- 
 tion of his father's attitude towards Pan and its 
 reason) that Pan and Doro meant to leave Hurst- 
 point together that night; he had heard of his 
 father's ultimatum to Pan. 
 
 Neither Pembroke nor his father nor any of the 
 hunting men who frequented the house had ever 
 troubled to restrain the expression of their outlook 
 on certain aspects of life, nor restricted their 
 opinion concerning various people whom they hap- 
 pened to discuss. 
 
 Hex, at sixteen, had a man's judgment on certain 
 matters, coupled with a cool, unfeigned indifference 
 to the point at issue : simply, the moral or immoral 
 aspect of certain episodes did not interest him. 
 
 He had listened to Pan's conversation sometimes 
 when he had chanced to be in the smoking-room, too, 
 after dinner, or playing billiards with his father. 
 
 He was quite interested in one affair, however, 
 and moreover he had warm and decided views on 
 it ; Pan should not hurt Doro, if he could prevent it.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 199 
 
 Quite boyishly now he thought, as he panted over 
 the crackling heather : 
 
 " Why, the chap's old! " 
 
 He was amazingly hot; it was heavy going in 
 pumps, which gave his bad foot no support, but he 
 did not think of resting. 
 
 " Like a modern film," he grinned to himself. " G 
 will be enormously amused when I tell her ! " 
 
 He had reached the park; he cut across it 
 obliquely, the going was easier here. 
 
 His car stood before the door. 
 
 " Damn cheek," he murmured, registering an- 
 other cause of dislike of Greville. 
 
 He went in by a side door, the house seemed 
 deserted; then he remembered all the servants had 
 gone to a dance in the village. 
 
 He looked in the music-room ; a fire glowed there 
 dully; no one there; he drew a blank, too, in the 
 morning-room. 
 
 Hesitant, he stood at the foot of the stairs ; Doro 
 and he shared a sitting-room opening out of the 
 gallery which was on the first landing, and then 
 higher up were their own rooms, to which lately 
 they had chosen to add each one other room. 
 
 He limped upstairs and whistled the old whistle 
 Doro and he had always used. 
 
 He waited utter silence ; below in the big hall a 
 coal fell with a little soft crash. 
 
 Silence again. 
 
 Then Doro's voice, Doro at the door of their sit-
 
 200 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 ting-room, a fur robe trailing about her. 
 
 "Hullo, Kex!" 
 
 "Hullo, Doro!" he laughed. "How long have 
 you been in? " 
 
 " A oh ! very few minutes." 
 
 "Were you tired? I'd have driven you home. I 
 see " his voice unconsciously held a note of resent- 
 ment " I see the Lancia's home. Pan drive her? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Doro still stood in the doorway. Eex, looking at 
 her more closely, moving forward, noticed how 
 white she looked. 
 
 " You look pretty cheap," he said with very young 
 candour; "we'll have something to drink. I'll get 
 it for you. You look as if you ought to. We've got 
 nearly all that cognac father sent up to the sitting- 
 room for a rag months ago. Better have some of 
 that." 
 
 He was at the door ; Doro stepped back. Pan, lift- 
 ing his dark head from a chair where he was rest- 
 ing before the fire, said with a yawn : 
 
 " I'll have some too, Eex." 
 
 Kex made no answer; he limped across to their 
 cache, as Doro and he had christened the cupboard 
 ages before, and stooped to unlock it with a key he 
 carried. 
 
 Pan, his nerves literally quivering with sup- 
 pressed rage, with a loathing of this boy who had 
 followed them, chose to feel Bex's attitude an im- 
 pertinence.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 201 
 
 " Did you hear what I said? " he shot at Kex. 
 
 Kex straightened up. 
 
 " Easily," he assured him with an ironic suave- 
 ness. 
 
 In Pan's temple a pulse drummed and drummed ; 
 he had attained nothing absolutely nothing. His 
 chance was gone torn from him by this damned 
 sneaking little spy whom of course Rexford had 
 instructed. 
 
 He got out of the big chair very slowly and 
 crossed towards Rex. The sight of him cool, his 
 air of self-possession, his very youth struck a fury 
 to life in himself ; as lightning can cleave a rock and 
 destroy it, so now his mad rage, the outcome of the 
 day's humiliation, passion, defeat, cleft his reason. 
 A mist passed before his eyes, his face was a little 
 distorted. 
 
 " Your manners don't appeal to me," he managed 
 to articulate. 
 
 Rex did not look at him. He said perfunctorily : 
 
 " Sorry ! " And then with more courtesy, " A 
 drink?" 
 
 Pan mastered himself with an effort which 
 drained him of strength for the moment. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 Doro had gone to take off her cloak. Rex set the 
 syphon on the table, and poured out some brandy. 
 Pan came nearer; Rex's hand on the syphon lever 
 slipped, a stream of soda water drenched Pan's coat 
 sleeve.
 
 202 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Rex gave a little spluttering laugh, exactly the 
 laugh a boy does give under such circumstances 
 inoffensive, genuinely amused. He checked it very 
 quickly, and gave a swift glance at Pan's face, prof- 
 fering his handkerchief. 
 
 " Dash thing swerved ! " he murmured, his hand 
 still outstretched. 
 
 Even then he had no faintest idea Pan meant to 
 strike him. He saw his lifted arm ; it conveyed no 
 menace to him. Then Pan's clenched hand de- 
 scended on his wrist with a hammer-blow. 
 
 " God damn you, you mis-shapen, sniggering little 
 spy ! " Pan sobbed at him. 
 
 Eex paled slowly as he listened ; the handkerchief 
 fell from his fingers as he doubled them slow r ly into 
 his palms. 
 
 " And God damn you ! " he said in a whisper, his 
 lips lifted above his teeth which gleamed whitely 
 as his eyes gleamed, fixed in a stare of hatred upon 
 Pan's livid face. 
 
 Doro's step sounded near. 
 
 Rex swallowed visibly; with a hard choking 
 sound, he said, running the words a little together : 
 
 " I can't after all, you're my guest till to-mor- 
 row, when you've got to go, thank God! Listen, 
 Greville, I hate you! Do you hear? And one day 
 I'll make you pay for this." 
 
 Doro came into the room; in silence Rex gave 
 her a glass.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 203 
 
 The noise of the others returning was audible. 
 He limped down to meet them. 
 
 " Greville, Doro and I are in the sitting-room," 
 he said a little stiffly ; " there's a topping fire there." 
 
 His father said: 
 
 " You three came back early? " 
 
 " Yes. Greville drove my car." 
 
 A look of relief crossed Tony's face; he had had 
 a hideous presentiment at the Colefaxes' that Pan 
 would dupe him. 
 
 " We'll come up," he said. 
 
 " I think I'll turn in," Rex volunteered. " Say 
 good night to the others, Greville and Doro." 
 
 He never again called Greville other than by his 
 name ; he went to his room and bathed his wrist ; it 
 was badly swollen, a little discoloured. 
 
 A slow but vivid colour crept into his face and 
 stayed there, a brilliant spot on either cheek.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 This is the last one rose that's left; 
 
 This rose I send, although my empty garden 
 
 Lies bereft, where bare boughs bend. 
 
 As I have given my rest, my best, 
 
 My fairest and my costliest, 
 
 All that I had, or was, or could, or knew, 
 
 For you/' 
 
 UT why has Pan gone? " Doro asked. 
 
 "He was wired for, a Paris wire, busi- 
 ness," Tony said curtly. 
 
 " But but he never said good-bye ! " 
 
 " Why on earth should he? " Tony exploded. 
 " Good Lord, his departures and arrivals are not 
 matters of state, are they? " 
 
 " No, of course not," Doro said, that little piteous 
 note in her voice. 
 
 " Go and change and ride round with me," Tony 
 suggested. " I'll wait for you." 
 
 Doro went obediently; as well ride round as sit 
 alone or do anything else now Pan had gone. 
 
 She let Emilia help her into her riding kit in 
 silence ; the news of Pan's departure seemed to have 
 stunned her; there seemed now nothing left to do 
 or say. It was a steel-blue day, the ground battened 
 down, ridged with hard bars where the frost could 
 
 204
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 205 
 
 grip it flat, the sky like an iron plate, a forbidding 
 day, no cheer or hope in it. 
 
 The horses were restive; Doro's mare needed 
 handling. 
 
 " Where's Rex? " Tony shot at her. 
 
 " Indoors ; he's hurt his wrist, somehow." 
 
 "Always got something," Tony muttered. 
 
 Doro, usually so eager a champion, said nothing ; 
 they rode in utter silence. 
 
 From time to time Tony glanced at her; a dull 
 ache was in his heart, and, as well, most conflicting 
 emotions, a very lively hatred of Pan. But girls 
 got over things, of course ; Doro would. It was early 
 days to expect her to have forgotten entirely, come 
 to think of it! 
 
 And as they rode the horses' hoofs beat out to 
 Doro : " Pan has gone Pan has gone." 
 
 Only yesterday they had walked together in the 
 sunshine, and everything had seemed so wonderful, 
 and as if it would never end could not. 
 
 And with that thought a little warmth of com- 
 fort grew in her heart. 
 
 Pan would write Pan would come back. . . . 
 
 There was no doubt in her heart. Only something 
 very imperative could have called him from her 
 now. Ah! how could she harbour one smallest 
 thought of doubt remembering? And with those 
 memories her face paled and flushed like scarlet 
 and white roses in the dawn. And oh, and oh ! his 
 coming back, how wonderful it would be !
 
 206 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 She could not bear not to ask one question : 
 
 " Do you think it will be very long before Pan 
 comes back? " 
 
 She saw Tony's dark face twitch; he looked at 
 her very straightly, and said hardly: 
 
 " All I can tell you is he's gone." 
 
 " I I had grasped that," Doro ventured with a 
 pathetic attempt at gay satire. 
 
 For the n th time Tony was fighting over the ques- 
 tion : " Should he tell Doro the whole truth or 
 not? " 
 
 Pembroke had advised " decidedly not." 
 
 " Do no good," he had said sapiently ; " only make 
 the child feel he's ill-treated, having no pay. Girls 
 find it more romantic for a lover to be penniless. 
 God knows why ! Anyway, they don't think so after 
 marriage! But provide a girl with a few good 
 obstacles to surmount, and begad, Tony, she's off to 
 get over 'em before you can say Jack Robinson! 
 No, no, my lad ; you lie low and say nuffin' ; ' least 
 said soonest mended ' ; and silence is never so golden 
 as when it's a real asset. Don't go giving Doro any 
 details to hang pity or hero worship on. Let her 
 stay as she is, and stand clear yourself. Once let her 
 think she's ill used or he is, and there'll be the 
 devil to pay. I know women ! " 
 
 Tony had found this sound advice in the smoking 
 room at three o'clock in the early morning; but 
 somehow, under the hard glare of noon which
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 207 
 
 showed Doro's face to be pitiful and tired, he was 
 not so certain he approved it. 
 
 But, after all, what could he say to Doro? If he 
 said anything, he must seem to know everything. 
 
 Whereas, if he did not speak, he spared Doro's 
 forced confidence. He decided to keep silencv 
 
 They stopped for lunch at G's. 
 
 " Delightful of you," she said, welcoming them 
 warmly, "and where's Hex?" 
 
 Once more the story of a hurt wrist. 
 
 G made no comment. She never offered comment 
 on any illness Hex had ; but she would far rather 
 have had each one herself. 
 
 They lunched at a little round table, on which 
 G's first hyacinths bloomed. 
 
 "Heavenly perfume," G said; "only, only as a 
 flower as a scent N.B.G., as Rex says ! Doro, my 
 dear, a propos of perfume, remember this, there are 
 three things a woman, to have charm, must culti- 
 vate, but use very delicately ; they all begin with the 
 same letter, and are perfume, passion, and percep- 
 tion! A right and judicious adaptability of one's 
 life and emotions in these three instances, and a 
 woman should go far ! " 
 
 " Some go a good way without the last quality," 
 Tony said. 
 
 " Too far, the wrong sort," G retorted crisply. 
 
 Doro was conscious of a great fatigue; G's con- 
 versation, Tony's, seemed aimless. She was thank- 
 ful when they could ride home.
 
 208 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 At home at least she could sit in her room and 
 remember. 
 
 The days of memory began, the nights when one 
 thinks back and back, and re-creates the shining 
 hours, and in imagination kisses and is kissed again. 
 
 The first few days were a torment waiting for the 
 letter which should have come and did not. 
 
 Casually, then, Tony mentioned Pan had gone to 
 India. 
 
 Of course, letters took a long while from there. 
 
 Doro, who had never studied geography much, 
 pored over maps now. 
 
 A month passed, two ; no letter came. 
 
 Of course, it would come; she would find it on 
 her tray one morning. . . . 
 
 Frantically she "willed" Pan to write. Her 
 faith did not falter yet ; she thrust each doubt away 
 from her with passion. Spring came, and with it a 
 recrudescence of all the old longing which was so 
 headlong, which held her so helpless a victim. 
 
 " Oh, Pan, Pan, to be close in your arms again, 
 to be kissed once more. ..." 
 
 The soft sweet nights with their drooping winds 
 and thousand fragrances of tender growing things 
 became a torture. 
 
 Doro grew thin. The gorgeous greenness of her 
 eyes was shadowed by the rings round them, as if 
 wet violets had been pressed there and left their 
 faint imprint. 
 
 Still she believed she had to believe; she was
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 209 
 
 too young not to. There was no end to love, there 
 could not be if it was love ; and if those kisses, those 
 words, had not sprung from love, then all the world 
 was false. 
 
 She slept very badly, scarcely at all on some 
 nights ; a desolate longing took the place of kindly, 
 effacing sleep. 
 
 She used to lie in the window seat, her face to 
 the stars, and think back. Each night held one hope : 
 to-morrow was near, it might bring a letter. 
 
 The almond-blossom in the avenue Francesca had 
 planted behind the rose garden burst into soft lovely 
 flame quite suddenly. 
 
 Kex came to tell Doro of it, his eyes shining with 
 delight. 
 
 "It's heavenly ! " he said. "Come on, Doro ; you'll 
 adore it." 
 
 It was a morning of brilliant vividness, when 
 every leaf shone emerald and the sky was sheerly 
 blue with densest white clouds, which sped across 
 it as if playing. 
 
 Against the blueness and the whiteness the 
 almond-blossom shone in a glory of keen rose, 
 startlingly beautiful, so lovely, one's breath was 
 caught. 
 
 " Stand here," Rex said, " just here." 
 
 He guided her until she stood in the centre of 
 the grassy space between the trees. 
 
 " Now look straight down the avenue." 
 
 It was like looking into the heart of a rose.
 
 210 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 And at the sight of that sweet loveliness Doro's 
 grief came back upon her intolerably. The laughing 
 beauty of the day was like a blow upon an open 
 wound; it was all so happy, she herself so utterly 
 forlorn. 
 
 She turned to Kex and looked at him. 
 
 He met her glance with a strange gravity ; he did 
 not ask boyishly, or even with that curiosity which 
 so many people feel, or would have felt, " What is 
 it?" 
 
 He did not speak at all for a little while, and then 
 he said : " It's a little blinding, all this riot of 
 colour." He slid a hand into her arm, walking back. 
 At the house they separated. 
 
 In the night a sleet storm fell. Doro listened to 
 it. When it was over she crept out. Her windows 
 had had to be shut ; the air felt close. 
 
 She found herself suddenly, so it seemed to her, 
 in a part of the gardens she did not recognize. She 
 looked with weary bewilderment at the line of 
 stripped, shivering trees before hep. 
 
 But surely behind her was the rose garden? These 
 trees had been the almond-blossom glory! She 
 looked up; a few ghostly petals clung to bare 
 branches. One fluttered down, like a pale tear 
 falling.
 
 BOOK II
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 "// vaut mieux se taire que de dire hors de temps des 
 choses trop tendres" STENDHAL. 
 
 f 4 y^l HANGE 'ud be a good thing," Tony said. 
 I. " What d'you think, G? " 
 
 " I thought so nearly three years ago," 
 G returned vigorously, " and was told that Doro 
 refused to entertain the idea. Naturally she would 
 do so, it being for her good, and she young enough 
 to know worse, as, again, I pointed out at the time." 
 
 "Well, it's got to be now," Tony announced 
 gloomily. " Place's like a morgue Pembroke gone, 
 Hex away, the child and I alone. When she's not 
 huntin' she's practising and when she's doin' neither 
 she's silent." 
 
 He himself sat in silence for a moment, then he 
 burst out: 
 
 " Damn Pasquale." 
 
 "Yes, but less loudly; a quiet damn is equally 
 efficacious ! " 
 
 Tony slewed round his face and stared at her 
 intently : 
 
 " G, d'you think she cares still? " 
 
 G gave a little sigh. Her restless fingers, slender 
 and straight still, loaded with rings, went on tap- 
 ping the top of her ebony stick. 
 
 213
 
 214 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 "Youth is so unjudgable," she said at length. 
 " You ask me if Doro still cares for Pan? My dear, 
 I think yes, but not, of course, as she did ; that, at 
 her age, would be impossible. Not even eighteen to 
 twenty can live at fever heat, but, just because of 
 those eighteen to twenty years, she does still. But 
 he is not Pan now ; he is an altar, I suspect, where 
 no flowers bloom, a memory with a flame behind it, 
 shining through and obscuring the real vision from 
 the devotee. Youth never remembers, but it also 
 never forgets! There is a difference, you know. 
 Youth manages so ably to discard any memory it 
 does not care for, whilst clinging with devilish 
 obstinacy to the main fact; youth concentrates so 
 mistakenly, and believes in ' never ' and ' ever ' as if 
 they were truth, and not a sentimental paradox ! So 
 give her change, my dear ; let her rip ! She's lovely, 
 lovable, and alive; she'll do it all right. We have 
 been fools to trust to the help of time. Time seldom 
 does much for any real lovers, save make 'em pleased 
 with themselves for being faithful ! Get Doro out of 
 the rut; let her meet a few men whose names are 
 neither Colefax nor Okehampton, nor any other 
 name of the good and worthy round about, and we 
 shall see things move Doro move, at any rate, I 
 hope. Music and hunting are all very well when 
 you're married, as a respite, but as life objects 
 no!" 
 
 " Hermione'll have her," Tony stated morosely,
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 215 
 
 alluding to his own sister in much the voice in 
 which one discusses a calamity. 
 
 " Then that's that," G commented. 
 
 In the silence that followed Doro's voice could be 
 heard from the music-room ; she was singing a song 
 by Hahn. 
 
 Tony groaned a little. 
 
 " Always that modern no-words-on-a-tune sort of 
 stuff," he said irascibly. " Why on earth Doro can't 
 sing a decent ballad, a song you can follow, God 
 knows." 
 
 "Ah! but it's beautiful," G said softly. 
 "Listen!" 
 
 Tony listened, wearing that expression common 
 to the uninitiated who have bought a good thing 
 for vast sums, grudge the outlay, but enjoy hearing 
 it praised, receiving thereby a faint sense of return 
 for their expenditure. 
 
 Doro sang on, and if she had sung music-hall 
 doggerel her voice would have made it beautiful. 
 
 When she stopped singing it was as if a sense of 
 loss were instinct. 
 
 She came down the wide stairs a little later. 
 
 " Hallo, you two ! " she said. 
 
 Even her speaking voice had changed; it had 
 become much softer, and had certain charming, very 
 personal intonations ; odd words she said somehow 
 quite differently from anyone else. 
 
 She stood gazing out of the window at the spring
 
 216 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 morning, and into G's mind there came the thought : 
 " Ah me ! how lovely loveliness is ! " 
 
 Doro had it unquestionably and quite unmistak- 
 ably ; she had it in her colouring, which was deep 
 rose, in the glowing light of her hair, which was no 
 distinct tint, but yet gave an impression of quick 
 warmth from its thick depths, and dominating all 
 else, she had loveliness in her eyes jasmine eyes, as 
 Bex had called them not inaptly once, when, look- 
 ing at them, he had seen the reflection of white light 
 in either, like a star, or jasmine flower amongst its 
 leaves. 
 
 Green eyes are often talked about, and extremely 
 seldom seen, or they are called green and discovered 
 to be hazel ; but Doro's eyes were green in the clear 
 light as waterpools, and in the shadow as jasmine 
 foliage. 
 
 But she no longer laughed with them, though she 
 laughed often. 
 
 G had noticed that and deplored it, and Doro's 
 too evident slightness as well. 
 
 " We must get her away," she had told herself ; 
 "suppressed temperament is the deuce an' all at 
 twenty-one ! " 
 
 She said now, still surveying Doro urbanely : 
 
 "My dear, you are going to do a season with 
 Hermione Lascelles." 
 
 Doro turned round. 
 
 " Do I want to do a season with Hermione 
 Lascelles? " she enquired.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 217 
 
 "Enormously as you have to, anyway," G sug- 
 gested. " You start to-morrow." 
 
 " I am disposed of then," Doro murmured, her 
 eyes on Tony. 
 
 " Your aunt thinks it best," he said hastily. 
 
 A little to both their surprise, Doro said 
 languidly : 
 
 " Oh, very well, perhaps it will be fun ! " and 
 sauntered to the door. 
 
 G said at length : 
 
 " The spring, my dear Tony, its usual influence, 
 either abandon or sweet depression! Berkeley 
 Square will be a good tonic for that, take my word 
 for it." 
 
 " I hope so," Tony said disconsolately ; he had 
 expected some slight passage at arms which should 
 have given him an opportunity to exert his 
 authority, or, at least, suggest that he had the power 
 to do so, and behold ! quiescence had robbed him of 
 the chance of exploiting what he knew he had not 
 and had therefore longed to pretend he had. 
 
 Some of life's hardest moments are those when 
 we realize that other people have long (and care- 
 lessly) known the weakness we believed only we 
 ourselves suspected ! 
 
 He walked out when G had left, and cursed Pan 
 in the gardens. 
 
 There was, deep in his heart, a strange, but not 
 bitter jealousy of Pan. Pan had taken Doro from 
 him as surely as if he had carried her bodily away,
 
 218 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 for Doro liad never been the Doro of Tony's life 
 after that one brief winter. She and he had dis- 
 cussed nothing; sometimes, hearing from Pan, 
 whose extravagances had been tediously recurrent 
 through the years, that he was at Bucharest, or 
 Biarritz, or Berlin, or any other place where gaiety 
 and women were, he had mentioned this fact openly, 
 but no one had ever offered any comment. 
 
 Pan had had a great victory had he known it by 
 making Doro love him; he had left Tony's life 
 empty. 
 
 Doro had never " come back." Tony thought of 
 it like that, not in three years even. 
 
 It was as if, over the happy gaiety and frankness, 
 a film of frost rested ; you never felt quite at ease. 
 
 Tony sighed as he walked. Perhaps London would 
 do the trick? Make her forget. 
 
 Lord, what was there to remember so faithfully 
 about Pan who had loved a dozen women since 
 Doro, and only left her because of money ! 
 
 Yet it had never occurred to Tony to tell Doro 
 the truth; Pan was his brother; they had had the 
 same father. 
 
 No, one couldn't do that. 
 
 They left for town on the following day, accom- 
 panied by Emilia, Nick and the car. Doro was to 
 have every possible thing which made life attractive. 
 Of course, Tony and G had taken her to town 
 every year " to do " the shows ; they had all stayed 
 at the Stafford, and had not bothered to open up
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 219 
 
 Greville House ; but those visits had been brief and, 
 as it were, undressed. This stay was to dedicate the 
 French frocks and every possible adornment Doro 
 could desire. 
 
 Hermione " lone," as she ordered herself to be 
 called was not, of course, at home when they 
 arrived. 
 
 " Damn bad manners," both G and Tony thought. 
 Doro did not mind. 
 
 She had met lone several times, and she neither 
 liked nor disliked her, 
 
 Tea was served, Doro and G presiding, to a host 
 of people they knew by name only, though G knew 
 their families' families in some cases. Tony knew 
 no one, and handed food. 
 
 At six, lone arrived. She had the odd gift which 
 some people find a charm in itself, of appearing at 
 once bored and vital. 
 
 Her health was amazing, though she adopted an 
 air of becoming fatigue, and, clad usually in filmy, 
 beautiful frocks, gave a clever impression of frailty. 
 Her manners were adorable, if often rather ex- 
 hausted, and her appearance all she desired it to be. 
 
 Charles Lascelles adored her, and had been 
 trained by her to do so in perpetuity. He was not 
 clever, but she had made him interesting, and she 
 paraded her affection for him whenever she remem- 
 bered to do so. 
 
 Her vivacity was inextinguishable, and she main-
 
 220 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 tained a champagne standard, and was duly valued 
 as a guest and enjoyed as a hostess. 
 
 Now, as she entered, some glow seemed to enter 
 the room too. 
 
 She said at once, " Darlings ! " in her attractive 
 voice, and kissed everyone, laughed at everyone, 
 declared she was dying for tea, had none, and lit a 
 cigarette, made plans for the evening, and summed 
 up Doro in her own mind. 
 
 " Spoilt, generous, self-willed, passionate a 
 handful or will be. What fun! Thank God she's 
 beautiful." 
 
 They dined at eight-thirty, and had ten guests to 
 dinner, and left for a play about ten ; it ended at a 
 quarter to eleven, when everyone went on to some- 
 one's house, and drank champagne, and danced. 
 
 At two, Tony took Doro back to Berkeley Square, 
 left her there, and repaired to the Stafford, and 
 wished he had been with G, who had returned after 
 dinner, and thanked his Maker he was going back 
 to Hurstpoint on the morrow. 
 
 Doro woke about nine, and listened to Emilia's 
 description of her evening, described her own, and 
 duly went, as requested, after her bath, to Tone's 
 room. 
 
 lone was up in a peignoir, her hair still hanging 
 down and tied back with a ribbon. She was forty- 
 three and looked thirty en deshabille; she did not 
 dye her hair, which was very pretty and naturally 
 wavy, but had it washed by her French hairdresser
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 221 
 
 in some herbal wash, which answered just the same 
 purpose as a dye, but was not such a bother. 
 
 Quite honestly, she had no real interest in anyone 
 save herself, and, through herself, her husband and 
 son ; but she had a sense of family feeling, and her 
 house was so large it meant very little to her chap- 
 eroning Doro, and of course Tony was a very liberal 
 donor. 
 
 Charles, who was really nothing, was ostensibly 
 a shipping magnate in London, and, quite truly, a 
 good landlord in the country. Nicholas, the boy, 
 was with Hex at Magdalen, and was innocuous, gay, 
 good-looking, and had charming manners. 
 
 The only disappointment of Zone's life had been 
 that he had not inherited her brains. However, he 
 had her looks and his father's, and that was some- 
 thing, and also he thought her the most wonderful 
 woman in the world, and that was another. 
 
 Not that lone would have owned men folk who 
 did not; she insisted on nothing visibly, and ob- 
 tained everything by dint of concealing her force 
 of character whilst she exercised it. Women loved 
 her because she talked with them, and not about 
 them; she knew few people who were not fond of 
 her, and attributed this, firstly to her charm, sec- 
 ondly to her house, thirdly to her lack of snobbish- 
 ness, which was a real fact. 
 
 There are only two sets of people in the world 
 who are not snobs; one is the set which does not 
 care to visit the homes of the great, or call them by
 
 222 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 their Christian names in public, because it can, and 
 the other is composed of those irresponsible idealists 
 who do not count anyway! 
 
 One grasped by inference to which set lone be- 
 longed! Her hospitality was indiscriminate; she 
 did not care what guests she asked to her house for 
 big affairs, because she rarely realized they were 
 there; as a result, the semi-demi smart woman of 
 the world, the woman of a certain social status and 
 breeding (who possessed, however, a wider outlook 
 than was customary in some matters!) women, 
 that is to say, who managed to keep their lovers and 
 their prestige at the same time went there; 
 mothers as devoted to their children as lone; 
 artistic people, and steady friends of Charles, and 
 Tone's habitudes, and an olla podrida of moneyed 
 London. 
 
 lone was restlessly modern, and meant, as she 
 said, to have a good time. 
 
 G would have been nearly stunned into a decline 
 had she realized Tone's code of life. Mercifully, she 
 believed it to be that of all Rexfords, and had there- 
 fore felt quite at ease in committing Doro to her 
 charge; Tony knew nothing anyway, and would 
 have realized very little if he had stayed a month 
 at Berkeley Square. 
 
 Tone surveyed Doro much as she looked over a 
 horse at Tattersall's. 
 
 Then she announced where Doro should go for 
 clothes, where they were going during the day for
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 223 
 
 amusement, and told her she was beautiful, and 
 asked her if she wished to marry. 
 
 Doro said " No," composedly. 
 
 " Oh, why? " lone asked. " It's really the best 
 way of living. Most people make such a muddle of 
 it because they feel convinced it must have a basis 
 of mutual adoration. As if that ever lasted or 
 could. Every woman ought to study science a little, 
 sufficiently anyway to grasp the why and wherefore 
 of duration of what all of us, at one time or another, 
 call love ! Look at me," she flashed a smile in Doro's 
 direction. " I married Charles twenty-two years 
 ago, and there is not one moment of my married life 
 I regret, and yet I was never in love with him! I 
 had a sense of values, that was all. I liked his 
 looks, I knew him well! I realized he had certain 
 qualities that made for peace and contentment, and 
 he adored me. I was very fond of him, I have never 
 liked any man as well, and so I married him. I fore- 
 saw we could make a decent thing of life. We had 
 the same tastes at least, I knew we should have: 
 Charles was malleable, you see ; and we loved chil- 
 dren and having a good time ; and he, as I say, loved 
 me. Voila!" 
 
 "D'you believe in romance, lone?" Doro asked. 
 " I mean the sort one reads about : deathless pas- 
 sion, two people who matter to one another in- 
 tensely . . .?" 
 
 lone shot a very shrewd glance in Doro's direc- 
 tion. Tony and G had told her nothing; she felt a
 
 224 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 little aggrieved, realizing there was something to 
 tell. 
 
 She said, walking about the beautiful room, put- 
 ting carnations straight in their vases, tidying her 
 letters, directing her maid at intervals : 
 
 "You mean the Paolo-Francesca, Komeo and 
 Juliet love? Yes, for a woman, but for extremely 
 rare women ; women who would use their mentality 
 in love, never a grand amoureuse, and unfortu- 
 nately most clever woman who have great tempera- 
 ment exploit it in that way. To love you have to 
 have so much free time, my dear! Freedom of 
 thought, too, and that's so difficult to obtain; and 
 qualities which are rather far-fetched for most of 
 us: the spirit of sacrifice, limitless generosity, 
 humility oh! I don't know: all the dull virtues 
 which are only not dull when they are guided by 
 brilliant mentality! For the ordinary every day 
 man and woman romance is an impossibility. Sorry 
 to be depressing, but that is the truth. It's better, 
 my dear, to go in for a good time ! As we are going 
 to do. Get dressed now, will you? The car will be 
 round at eleven." 
 
 She was peacefully bored with Doro by the after- 
 noon, and might have stayed in that condition of 
 perfect amiability if Doro had not arranged with 
 Cavini for a singing lesson the following day. lone 
 stood on the stairs spellbound ; true to type, or per- 
 haps one should say to the standard she imposed 
 in order to keep her position as deesse with her
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 225 
 
 friends, she " knew " the arts intelligently ; at any 
 rate, she recognized the wonder of Doro's voice, and 
 quite quickly, after realization, the attraction this 
 discovery would be for her next parties. 
 
 She went into the drawing-room when the song 
 was finished, and found the great Cavini nearly 
 weeping with joy. 
 
 " What a voice ! " he said to her, mopping his face. 
 
 " What a voice ! " 
 
 He enthused wildly, speaking with Neapolitan 
 frankness of Doro's appearance, her anatomy, and 
 temperament. 
 
 " Scientifically and physiologically," lone smiled 
 at Doro. " How interesting ! " 
 
 She gave a big party the following week, and 
 Doro sang at it, in a Callot frock, with the " tem- 
 perament " en evidence in her voice. She had a 
 furore of a success and, through it, became in a 
 moment a definite personality. 
 
 Kex, down on a visit with Nicholas Lascelles, 
 found a new being. 
 
 He told her so, leaning his long length against a 
 window and gazing at her dispassionately. 
 
 " What d'you mean to do about it? " he asked. 
 
 Doro laughed. 
 
 " Oh, live, have a good time, as lone is always 
 saying." 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Grow like lone? " 
 
 " One might do worse, my dear."
 
 226 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Granted, as they say in Yorkshire, or County 
 Somerset, or Beckenham, but do you enormously 
 admire even the very best paste? I know it's a most 
 finished thing, far more valued by connoisseurs than 
 solitaires, for instance; but, after all, it's not the 
 real thing." 
 
 Doro laughed again, Hex was so delightfully 
 funny and abstruse. 
 
 " Poor lone, how crushing ! " 
 
 " Oh, she'd laugh," Hex assured her ; " she'd never 
 accept any statement that wasn't flattering as 
 true!" 
 
 Doro liked having Rex and Nicholas; both were 
 good-looking, and both smart with that clean nice- 
 ness which is so pleasing; both, needless to say, 
 interested in their clothes to a degree of absorption. 
 
 Nicholas proposed, quite happily, to do nothing. 
 
 Rex intended to " stand," he announced, " some- 
 where, somehow, some day." 
 
 His limp had nearly disappeared ; he had trained, 
 exercised, undergone an operation in order to be- 
 come fit, and he had outgrown much of his earlier 
 delicacy. 
 
 Nicholas and he, Doro and lone, raced through 
 life; it was lived to pitched laughter, quick wit, 
 quicker dancing, rather heavy drinking. 
 
 Everyone drank and was amused by it, and if 
 you drank too much, were more amused. 
 
 Rex, writing to G, was discreet for her sake ; he 
 took a week-end of his brief vacation to go down and
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 227 
 
 stay with her, though he longed to remain in 
 London. 
 
 He told her of Doro's success; he dilated on her 
 beauty, Tone's kindness, and bowdlerized his de- 
 scription of the crowd with which Doro and she 
 ran. 
 
 He went up for a last, huge party before term 
 began the following day. It was early May, and the 
 train sped through cuttings tipped with shining 
 greenness out into fields golden-starred with 
 dandelions. 
 
 London semed utterly delightful in the gay pink 
 and gold sunset, the streets were thronged, the 
 shops glowing lengths of colour; Tone's house had 
 new flowers in the window-boxes, marguerites and 
 lobelias, and the awning was ready for the ball, and 
 the red carpet. 
 
 He had that splendid sense of Men etre, which 
 being fit and young and happy alone conveys; he 
 took the austere steps two at a time, and hailed 
 Nicholas with a shout as he saw him going upstairs. 
 
 They turned into Nicholas's special room for a 
 cocktail. 
 
 " Where's Doro? " Kex asked almost at once. 
 
 " Putting the war paint on, or out, or something," 
 Nicholas answered. "I say, Shropshire did!" 
 
 Rex felt an odd contraction in his heart ; he heard 
 himself say unemotionally: 
 
 "And Doro?" 
 
 " Did not" young Nicholas said as solemnly.
 
 228 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Kex burst out laughing. 
 
 " It's a chance of a life-time gone phut," Nicholas 
 observed almost reproachfully, staring at him. " A 
 title, places, hell of a lot of money, and a decent 
 feller, take it all in all." 
 
 " Good deal of one sort of all," Kex suggested 
 keenly. 
 
 Nicholas had the nature which, in early youth, 
 admires a " dog," and believes fastness to be an 
 asset ; he wagged his boyish head. 
 
 " Oh, well, we only live once," he remarked. 
 
 "And other people live lots of lives for us to 
 atone for it ! " 
 
 " Oh, well," Nicholas repeated vaguely ; he could 
 never cope with Kex when he became what he called 
 " top-lofty." 
 
 "What did your mater say?" Rex asked sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Oh, nothing ! Laughed. Shropshire went to her 
 first in the good old-fashioned way. He meant busi- 
 ness, I tell you." 
 
 " Where is Doro, anyway? " 
 
 " I've told you : out, or in, or not, or something," 
 Nicholas suggested ; " I dunno." 
 
 Rex went in search of her, but in vain. 
 
 They met at dinner finally which happened to be 
 a party at the Ritz, and Rex found himself opposite 
 Doro; beside her Lord Shropshire was sitting, 
 visibly passing through that process vulgarly
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 229 
 
 known as " bearing up," and not doing so with dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 Doro met Rex's eyes and smiled at him. 
 
 Again that odd little contraction shook his heart ; 
 at least, his breath caught for a second. 
 
 He went on looking at Doro, and chose perversely 
 to imagine her engaged to Shropshire. 
 
 Suddenly Shropshire's hearty voice said to him : 
 
 " I say, Greville, whom do you want to murder? " 
 
 Rex knew he flushed darkly; he felt the hot 
 blood drum up under his skin right to his forehead ; 
 he laughed as naturally as he could. 
 
 " I bet there was someone," Shropshire pursued 
 heavily ; " your eyes had a glare in 'em, old son, I 
 tell you." 
 
 Rex asked himself: "What on the earth's the 
 matter with me? " 
 
 He felt ashamed of his " idiocy " as he termed it, 
 and turned resolutely to his partner and made con- 
 versation. He scarcely looked at Doro again. 
 
 But when they were leaving the Ritz she came 
 up to him. 
 
 " Let's walk back together," she whispered ; " it's 
 only a few steps, and it's such a heavenly night." 
 
 She slid a hand through his arm. 
 
 And in that touch he knew, for it seemed to race 
 like flame through his veins until it reached his 
 heart. 
 
 The flame rested there.
 
 230 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Almost with stupefaction he told himself : 
 
 " I love her." 
 
 It seemed to him that he walked beside her in 
 some dream, that he must awake and say : " How 
 extraordinary, it seemed so real I" It was as if a 
 spell held him in thrall ; he realized the scent of the 
 London streets in summer time; he heard the roar 
 of the traffic; a car gleamed out of the soft dark- 
 ness ; Doro was speaking. 
 
 And mechanically, over and over again, his own 
 soul seemed to say : " I love her ; I love her." 
 
 Now, as she moved, as her hand pressed less 
 lightly, that amazing thrill pierced its way to him 
 again. He had never as an actual fact, as a thing 
 that could, that must happen to him thought of 
 love. His life had had no place for it, no time ; even 
 lately, at Oxford, he had never been absorbed by 
 the one topic which seemed to interest most of the 
 men. There had been Doro and G in his life ; they 
 had sufficed him. He did not realize and would not, 
 for some long time, how much G's influence had 
 swayed him ; how very much she had counted, and 
 how wholly finely in his life. 
 
 To-night all the world seemed a new place; 
 miraculous, yet disturbing, greatly perplexing. 
 
 " You are very silent," Doro said to him, " and 
 we're nearly there. I wanted to hear about home." 
 
 Eex dashed into a jerky, spirited description of 
 his visit, and all the while, as he held her arm in 
 closely, he longed to cry out :
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 231 
 
 " Don't take your hand away, I love it there ! " 
 and wondered with a sort of chill, almost fright- 
 ened wonder, what Doro would say if he did so. 
 
 He was uncertain what he felt, save this heady, 
 stinging sensation of mystifying delight ; he was out 
 of his depth utterly. 
 
 He glanced at Doro's profile shyly, bending his 
 head to see it better. 
 
 It was as though he had never seen her until now. 
 He thought of his stay at Pointers, and his restless 
 longing to be back in London. 
 
 He had wondered why a little himself ; it had been 
 all the while as if some power had been drawing 
 and drawing him back. 
 
 He remembered walking in G's garden very late, 
 and standing beside the tobacco plants and feeling 
 the strangest sense of stirredness. 
 
 But he had not actually thought of Doro then; 
 it had only been when he had imagined her in love 
 with Shropshire that he had truly realized ; he had 
 known then that for her to love another man would 
 be hideous simply, that it could not be. 
 
 At that moment it did not seem to him that love 
 could be unreturned. 
 
 Because it had been born in his heart, it must be 
 born, too, in the heart of the woman who had in- 
 spired it. 
 
 Life's most delicate and poignant irony, the belief 
 that love must create love, was accepted by him as a 
 lovely and immutable gospel.
 
 232 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Partly, perhaps, because he had been ill so much, 
 and, therefore, had been debarred from leading the 
 ordinary boy's happily dull career, the strain of 
 mysticism in his nature had become a strong in- 
 fluence. He brought to love much that few youths 
 of his years could bring, and one quality which few 
 people ever practise or can, with regard to love : the 
 exercise of philosophy. 
 
 He had read so much, dreamed so much, been 
 save for G's love, his love for her (in itself a 
 strangely gentle, strangely curious influence) so 
 alone, that his outlook was bound to be either mis- 
 anthropic, or that of a visionary disciple of what- 
 ever creed aroused his loyalty, his unspoiltness and 
 straightness, and, until a short time before, pathetic 
 disability for sport had made it the latter. 
 
 He was clean all through by instinct, and because 
 of G's robust clarity. 
 
 If he was pedantic, he was also gallant. 
 
 That wild desire to tell Doro, to urge what seemed 
 to blaze in his brain and heart, to speak of his love, 
 seized him again. . 
 
 " Doro," he said, and thought his voice normal. 
 
 Doro, loosing his arm, said : 
 
 " Did you speak, Rex? " 
 
 The crushing snub, which mere normality admin- 
 isters more effectively than irony or indifference, 
 because it is unconscious, struck him to silence. 
 
 She was on the red-carpeted steps, he mounting 
 behind her; the moment had passed.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 233 
 
 lone was already at the entrance of the ballroom, 
 looking a little bored and quite beautiful, and wear- 
 ing what Nicholas disrespectfully described as the 
 " eternal fender " ; some people had arrived and the 
 band was playing. 
 
 Kex, with quick foresight, claimed certain dances 
 with Doro; later, much later, she was to sing. Ke- 
 camez was to appear also, and Cavini was to play. 
 
 " Now we're off ! " Nicholas exclaimed, listening 
 to this description of fame and beauty. 
 
 lone danced with him ; she loved him as she loved 
 nothing and no one else ; for her, he was never this 
 big person, but her little son, whose advent had been 
 the greatest joy of her life. He danced perfectly, 
 and so did she, and she looked like his sister. 
 
 " Muv, you're a beauty and a peach," he told her. 
 
 "And you're a darling, Baby," she answered, 
 laughing at him, her brilliant eyes soft and shining 
 with pleasure. 
 
 Kex, dancing with Doro, felt his dream-thrall 
 upon him, and with it that startlingly keen percep- 
 tion dreams seem to confer; it was as if he really 
 " saw " Doro for the first time, and he gloried in 
 this flooding vision. 
 
 His thoughts ran goldenly; every poem he had 
 ever read of love of lovely women seemed to float 
 through his brain. 
 
 He invested Doro with the glamour of a first great 
 romance, and could look this night upon her rose- 
 carnation colouring, her lovely-petalled mouth, with
 
 234 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 the worship of one before an altar. He and she 
 seemed both unreal in this white hour of revelation. 
 
 Yet once, as they danced, and Doro moved her 
 head and her hair brushed his bent cheek, a thrill 
 so exultant, so virile, shook him that unconsciously 
 his arm tightened round her, his hand holding hers 
 trembled. 
 
 Oh ! did she not feel too she must, she should. 
 
 He relinquished her with his heart drumming like 
 a rebel against all serenity, and his young blood 
 like wine. 
 
 He could not dance with anyone else yet; he 
 slipped out on to the balcony. 
 
 London glowed and shivered with intensity of life 
 around him, he felt a passionate oneness with it, 
 with all the glitter and stress; the golden lights 
 below, the silver above, and between the swim- 
 ming blueness of a perfect night. 
 
 Down in the street a man laughed, a girl's voice 
 answered his laugh; the lilac trees waved their 
 fragrant tassels and wafted the scent into the soft 
 air ; a laburnum gleamed like palely golden fire. 
 
 All Rex's youth flamed in him, too, like a mount- 
 ing torch which would blaze into sudden dazzling 
 splendour. 
 
 " I live, I live," he told himself, with a little, ex- 
 cited, boyish laugh. 
 
 Suddenly he longed to be in G's garden beside 
 the tobacco plant again, its intoxicating and poig- 
 nant perfume charming him like a caress.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 235 
 
 To stand there with Doro and kiss her, and kiss 
 her ... 
 
 He realized that the dance music had ceased and 
 went back ; everyone was moving slowly towards the 
 music-room. 
 
 Doro was to sing, or Recamez; at any rate, he 
 longed to hear. 
 
 He saw Doro standing beside lone, and Cavini 
 waving his hands absurdly and smiling fatuously. 
 
 Everyone grew very still; Cavini ceased atti- 
 tudinizing and seated himself at the piano, and the 
 first notes of L'Heure Exquise fell like flower petals 
 into the silence. 
 
 That sheer ecstasy, which can only come from 
 knowledge as well as appreciation, filled Rex ; each 
 tone of Doro's voice was like the music of his own 
 spirit. 
 
 The song ended, and there was that moment's 
 supreme tribute of utter noiselessness before the 
 applause broke out. 
 
 Kex, as it died away, when it was seen that Cavini 
 was preparing to play again, heard a voice behind 
 him, and recognized, with that irritating uncer- 
 tainty which nags at the mind, that he could not 
 place its owner, and unwillingly turned his head. 
 
 His eyes met Pasquale Greville's dark golden 
 ones. 
 
 "Ah, Rex!" 
 
 The two nodded coldly ; Rex turned away again. 
 But he had lost his hold on utter delight, and
 
 236 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 though his music-loving soul paid its just tribute, 
 yet his mind was absorbed by Greville's arrival. 
 
 And instantly, as partner to his disturbed absorp- 
 tion, came another thought: What would Doro 
 feel? 
 
 He looked at her, and by a most unhappy chance 
 saw in her eyes her greeting to Pan. 
 
 His soul sickened with an unknown fear and 
 dread as he watched Doro's face : for it was exactly 
 as though a light were lit behind those lovely eyes ; 
 as if one gazed, oneself on earth, upon the entry of 
 another into Paradise. 
 
 Her face was illumined, transfigured for a sec- 
 ond; then convention reasserted its sway, and she 
 smiled formally at Pan. 
 
 And he? With a violent twist of his shoulders 
 Rex stared at him again. 
 
 Ah, he had seen, too! 
 
 He had been of even colour when first they had 
 recognized one another; now, after that instant's 
 exchange of glances with Doro, his face was white. 
 
 Rex studied him with the merciless scrutiny of 
 youth for disliked age. 
 
 He looked older, his thick hair had a powdering 
 on the temples, innumerable tiny lines showed 
 round his mouth, but he was still damnably good- 
 looking, and Rex hated him for the fact, as well as 
 for forcing it on his recognition. 
 
 But he looked " lived out," and Rex recognized it. 
 
 He pushed a courteous way to Pan.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 237 
 
 " When did you get back? " he asked civilly. 
 
 " This afternoon, from Paris, from Petersburg, 
 from Peking ! " 
 
 " Eather interesting tour. I suppose you made it 
 because of the alliteration? Staying in town long? " 
 
 " Haven't an idea." 
 
 " Where're you putting up? " 
 
 " I'm at the Kitz. You must dine one night." 
 
 " Thanks. I go up to-morrow, though. I'm with 
 Nicholas Lascelles at Magdalen." 
 
 " Ah ! Dim shades of my youth ! " 
 
 Oh, really? " 
 
 They had no more to say they eyed one another 
 with hidden hostility. 
 
 Pan said perfunctorily : 
 
 " And Hurstpoint, and so on? " 
 
 " Quite all right, I think. I was there for two 
 week-ends. My father and G were fit." 
 
 The use of that possessive pronoun irritated 
 Pan; obscurely: supercilious, affected, young cub! 
 
 He said in a slight drawl : 
 
 " Doro seems to have come on, what? " and with- 
 out waiting for Eex's answer, strolled through an 
 opening he saw and walked towards the piano. 
 
 Rex watched the actual meeting with miserable 
 weakness, aware he only did so because of his sus- 
 picion, and despising himself, and yet unable to 
 leave the coign of vantage. 
 
 And again he saw Doro's face illumined for a
 
 238 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 moment; then, bewilderingly, it changed utterly 
 and became ironically cold. 
 
 He turned away and went into the other room, 
 an anguish of a half -understood bitterness welling 
 up in him.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 " Debts make freemen slaves." SOPHOCLES. 
 
 WHEN Doro faced Pan utter nervousness 
 possessed her; she wanted to laugh aim- 
 lessly; she had no clear thought, no in- 
 stinct of what to say. 
 
 She gave her hand to Pan, and, as if that touch 
 released some spring which had restrained her 
 mind, there rushed upon her the memory of their 
 last parting, that winter's night years before, and 
 then she said with banal flatness: 
 
 " You are back then? " 
 
 Pan answered: 
 
 " The Prodigal has returned ! Will you help kill 
 the fatted calf at a dinner to-morrow at the Ritz? 
 I am staying there. And you? " 
 
 " lone is giving me a season." 
 
 " Ah, really ! " His eyes sparkled for a moment. 
 " That is splendid. I am to be in town, too." 
 
 lone joined them with a little cry of pleasure. 
 " You ! " she said, holding Pan's arm, " after long 
 years indeed! Well, comment ca va? " 
 
 "Isn't everything vsry much the same?" Pan 
 answered. 
 
 " Ah, you've been as dull as that? Poor dear! " 
 
 239
 
 240 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " You look radiant," he told her. 
 
 "I feel it. Why not?" 
 
 Doro was studying Pan as he talked to lone, and 
 the study stirred her heart unutterably. She so 
 loved beauty, and here before her again was that 
 face which had once been as a god's ; at which, just 
 to look, had seemed such wonderful happiness. 
 
 And she had not only looked ! 
 
 Her heart throbbed unbearably as she recalled 
 those wild kisses, clinging, unsatisfied, so passion- 
 ate; as she remembered other dear, absurd, little 
 delights of love-making, Pan's eye-lashes kissing 
 her cheek, herself tracing his profile with a finger 
 he caught and prisoned between his lips. . . . 
 
 Now they met like this and yet all that had 
 been! That question women's hearts have asked 
 through the ages echoed in Doro's: 
 
 " How can he? How can he? " 
 
 How could he stand so near, and never care if it 
 were less near, or more ; he who had once said : " I 
 could hold you in my arms for ever? " 
 
 Yet he could; and suddenly his indifferent com- 
 posure became a mortification. 
 
 She gave a little smothered gasp. She would go ; 
 she would not wait. 
 
 David Shropshire passed; his face lit up at the 
 sight of her. 
 
 " My dance? " he said impressively, and led her 
 away. 
 
 lone laughed at Pan.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 241 
 
 "You saw?" 
 
 " Not entirely clearly, I'm ashamed to confess, my 
 dear, knowing your passion for pace in all things." 
 
 "Not all. But in this affair, yes. David wants 
 to marry Doro, and I want him to, too. She's the sort 
 of girl who won't take the plunge easily. There is 
 too much romance about her, my dear, to allow 
 of any dalliance! If she waits to marry she will 
 wait, become choyee probably, and not marry at all. 
 And that is a tragedy for any woman with looks." 
 
 "Why? " asked Pan idly, disliking the conversa- 
 tion, yet forced to go on with it if he wished to learn 
 more of Doro. 
 
 " Oh, children," lone threw out lightly. " Doro 
 should have adorable babies, position, and so on. 
 After all, Tony can do something for her, but not 
 very much. Kex gets everything, naturally. He's 
 the dearest being a cross between Sir Galahad, a 
 budding La Rochefoucauld, and a portrait of one's 
 ancestors ! " 
 
 Pan asked, with startling abruptness: 
 
 " Rexford, how is he? " 
 
 " Oh, Rexford, that's all ! " 
 
 He wished lone would not be so elliptically witty, 
 or less convinced wit must be brief. 
 
 " Did he talk over my sins with you? " 
 
 He had to know that, to discover where he stood 
 in this new and intriguing scheme of things which 
 presented itself to him, and Doro as Tone's ward. 
 
 lone laughed really amusedly.
 
 242 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " My dear, I only see Tony once in fifteen blue 
 moons, and then only for an hour; in eternity he 
 may begin the discussion you mention: we might 
 thrash the matter out then ! " 
 
 She did not know then. 
 
 "How d'you like having Doro with you?" he 
 said, pretending to look in idle interest about him. 
 
 " Oh, greatly ; she has all the gifts a guest should 
 have : looks, an exploitable talent, the right clothes 
 (I chose 'em), and, thank God, the art of retire- 
 ment. Shall we dance? "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire. 
 Dividing my delight and my desire, 
 The crescent life, and love the plenilune; 
 Love me though dusk begin and dark retire. 
 Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. . . . 
 
 " Nay, I will sleep then only, nay but go. 
 Ah sweet, too sweet to me, my sweet I know. 
 Love, sleep, and death go to the same sweet tune, 
 Hold my hair fast and kiss me through it so. 
 Ah, God, ah God, that day should be so soon" 
 
 SWINBURNE. 
 
 II WILL not remember, I will not," Doro told 
 herself vehemently. " Oh, why did he come 
 back? " 
 
 She dreaded a resurgence of the old unhappiness, 
 as one dreads the recurrence of a devastating pain, 
 and yet there was upon her that ghastly sureness 
 which freezes hope, that she was not safe, that she 
 was to be claimed again, that the pain already had 
 thrust out a tiny spear which was beginning to 
 rankle. 
 
 She went everywhere with redoubled vivacity; 
 she never rested, she was afraid to rest. 
 
 Rex had left with scarcely a word, and she had 
 ; scarcely missed him; all her consciousness was ab- 
 
 243
 
 244 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 sorbed in escaping from her own memories, in defy- 
 ing their power. 
 
 The glimpse of a branch of belated almond-blos- 
 som, its tinv, exquisitely vivid roses shining out 
 like coloured stars, struck her heart like a blow. 
 For one second she was back in the gardens, the 
 big, soft night-wind blowing, the rain bea.ting 
 gently on her face, and the almond-blossom falling, 
 falling like weary tears. 
 
 " Heavenly stuff ! " lone said. " But so foolish ! 
 The frailest, most adorable of all flowers, and it 
 braves the earliest spring ! So rash of it ! No won- 
 der it withers first and never finds the lovely sum- 
 mer time. Lack of perception there, if you like I" 
 
 Doro laughed mechanically. 
 
 Ah! lack of perception, indeed and how true 
 that the frailest blossoms withered first 
 
 She clenched her hands suddenly; she was 
 " thinking back " again, and that way lay the land 
 of desolation. . . . 
 
 Pan came very little; for one thing, though this 
 may not have influenced him greatly, his allowance 
 was just due ; for another, he was finishing an affair 
 which threatened to be rather troublesome. 
 
 Foi* a last reason, he was uncertain of himself for 
 once. 
 
 He had no idea what Rexford had told Doro, 
 and he had no means of discovering her actual 
 knowledge.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 245 
 
 So he avoided her rather, giving time its chance : 
 time which obligingly laid bare so much, time as- 
 sisted by a subtle searcher ! 
 
 But, as history can prove with crushing force, one 
 glance can suffice to wreck the matured plans of a 
 lifetime. 
 
 Pan, rather pleased with himself for his absti- 
 nence, assuring himself he was fleeing temptation, 
 keeping his word, considering Doro's good, not a 
 little inflated by the sense of his honour towards 
 Rexford, refused Zone's invitations systematically, 
 to meet Doro at a small party which Shropshire 
 gave at Ranelagh. 
 
 It was a hot night, and the air was weighed down 
 by a thousand perfumes ; perfect summer bred rest- 
 lessness by its beauty. 
 
 Shropshire, in his blindness, had placed Pan on 
 Doro's left. Was he not a sort of relative, and 
 therefore safe? 
 
 The great Recamez, great in every sense "et 
 'pourquoi pas" to quote an adorer, " since one could 
 never have too much of the truly beautiful? " 
 offered generously to sing. 
 
 Shropshire gave an order to the musicians, and 
 the leader hurried forward and bowed before 
 Recamez. 
 
 He was Italian. " Of course, he knew Madame's 
 songs Good God, yes! And might he dared he 
 suggest he alone should accompany the great 
 diva? " .
 
 246 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 After further compliments and a smile from 
 Recamez's scarlet lips which dazzled its recipient, 
 the little man took up his violin. 
 
 " I will sing an English song," Recamez an- 
 nounced, " and I do not know its title ! At least, I 
 forget. Let us call it ' Love.' It is a word we all 
 understand, and it has a wide appeal, I think ! " 
 
 She opened her beautiful mouth and began to 
 sing, and she sang like a child which is hurt and 
 a woman who loves too well. 
 
 The words fell, each distinct, apart, sheerly beau- 
 tiful: 
 
 u To sigh for thee, cry for thee, 
 
 Under my breath. 
 To find but a shade 
 Where thy head has been laid, 
 
 It is death. 
 To yearn for thee, burn for thee, 
 
 Sorrow and strife; 
 But to have thee, 
 Hold thee and fold thee, 
 
 It is life, it is life! " 
 
 Doro had sat immobile at first, then memories 
 like a bursting flood had poured over her, and then, 
 with almost terrified realization, she had felt Pan's 
 hand touch her; for an instant she felt utterly 
 numb, then she shivered desperately, and helplessly 
 she let her hand slip into those ardent, seeking 
 fingers, which closed on her hand, and seemed by
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 247 
 
 that action to close, too, on her heart, drawing it 
 wholly from her into his own keeping. She could 
 not look at him. She knew Recamez sang again, 
 stopped; people talked, she herself spoke with 
 David ; but all the while she was intensely, widely 
 conscious of that clasp, that touch which had the 
 power to change her whole being, to sweep her soul, 
 her senses, as a musician's bow sweeps the strings of 
 the instrument he loves. 
 
 Oh, again, again, to feel those kisses which 
 opened Heaven, again to be crushed in an exultant 
 embrace, again to listen to words smothered in the 
 saying by dearer words unspoken. 
 
 Again, again to live, to wake and thrill and sleep, 
 and dream, to love, to have love once more as the 
 beat of the day's measure. And into her surcharged 
 mind some lines flashed dizzily lines of a poem, 
 some woman loving over much had prayed : 
 
 <f This will I ask of Christ the Lord, 
 This much for thee and me: 
 Only to ~be as once awhile, 
 Forever now 
 Together, 
 I and Thee " 
 
 It was wrong she remembered only vaguely 
 but it expressed the unspoken, overwhelming long- 
 ing in her heart.
 
 248 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Everyone rose. Pan drew her chiffon cloak, with 
 its soft fur collar round her shoulders. He said in 
 a normal, self-contained voice: 
 
 " Shall we go in the gardens? The lily pond is 
 rather attractive." 
 
 They went out together. To Doro the world was 
 empty save for their two selves. 
 
 Pan took her arm in his cool, close grasp, and led 
 her past rose trees palely flowering now in the 
 powdery moonlight, for all their riotous loveliness 
 by day, towards a dense belt of shadow flung by 
 some trees. 
 
 They had kissed before under trees, and now 
 again they claimed their shelter. 
 
 " Doro ! " he said in a stifled whisper. He gripped 
 her hard by both shoulders. 
 
 " This is madness," he muttered. The passion- 
 broken words fell about Doro like a drift of golden 
 leaves ; she lifted her face, almost sacrificially, and 
 he kissed her. 
 
 "Ah, you love me you love me say it," she 
 whispered against his lips. In that imploration was 
 so much suffering, so many fears, all the years of 
 waiting : " Say it say it ! " 
 
 He kissed the words away, kissed the power of 
 speech from her, kissed her until she lay utterly 
 spent in his arms. 
 
 Then, with a passion-shaken laugh, that low,] 
 broken laugh of a sure, exultant conquest, he said : 
 
 " I love you, I adore you."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 249 
 
 Doro caught his dark head, back-flung for the 
 moment, between her two hands ; she drew it down 
 until she could gaze into those shining eyes. 
 
 " Look at me," she whispered. " You must. I 
 must be told the truth. Why did you leave me? 
 How could you? Why did you never write? Oh, 
 Pan, I waited and waited, and I you don't know 
 what it meant to be without you and every day I 
 used to think, perhaps a letter will come perhaps. 
 I watched every post. And you knew, you knew, 
 you held all my life between your hands and yet 
 you went you left me " 
 
 In that moment Pan would have lied to her had 
 his life been forfeit for it, for upon him had dawned 
 the certainty, dearer to a man of his type than any, 
 that for Doro he had found again the power to love. 
 In Doro he found personality and loveliness, and 
 also one other thing, which, for some men, has a 
 great attraction, and has its value for all : she had 
 a certain place already in that world which decrees 
 and refutes. Rexford's name, the romance of her 
 adoption, and her voice would have given her social 
 prestige; but her own imperial youth was her 
 greatest charm. Many pass through youth and have 
 not this talent for largesse of their very selves, are 
 powerless to give out anything to the world. 
 
 Doro gave unconsciously, with both outflung 
 hands, her radiant gaiety, her shining loveliness; 
 she stimulated like a draught of sparkling nectar; 
 she was vivid in every movement, every thought,
 
 250 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 !, 
 
 from the crown of her head, with its so vital hair, 
 to the soles of her narrow feet upon which she went 
 so lightly. 
 
 Pan found it extremely pleasant to love where 
 all loved, and yet know oneself alone beloved ! 
 
 Selfish, vain, fantastically weak, his love for 
 Doro began to possess him wholly, and, as was in 
 evitable with a man of his age, this possession be- 
 came a goad; he was never free from the thought 
 of Doro, nor wholly happy in that thought away 
 from her. 
 
 To his type of temperament remorse is alien ; it 
 savours of bourgeois melodrama, and what is even 
 worse, discomfort! 
 
 If Greville thought of himself in actuality, he 
 did not think long. His tedious marriage had not 
 hampered him for years : why should it now? 
 
 Yet, at intervals, he resented his powerlessness 
 with a sort of puny fierceness : he cursed everyone 
 save himself for the dilemma in which he was now 
 placed. 
 
 He told himself, once or twice in the very little 
 hours when he was tired, that he ought to give 
 up seeing Doro; but it never prevented him tele- 
 phoning at their usual hour to arrange their next 
 meeting. 
 
 How it would all end he never let himself think. 
 After all, this was the beginning, or the continua- 
 tion of the beginning, and what true lover ever fore- 
 sees an end?
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 251 
 
 Forty-five twenty-two : he did not encourage this 
 memory, and told himself with a small grimace 
 that he had never cared for arithmetic. 
 
 And, after all, what was forty-five for a man? 
 He thanked God with genuine gratitude that he 
 was of the " lean kind," and that his hair was of 
 hardy growth ! 
 
 " Half the battle ! " he told himself appreciatively. 
 " Lines add interest ; but a threatening of baldness 
 one's waistcoat in a wrinkle adieu romance ! " 
 
 He was, oddly enough, not very vain of his looks ; 
 his vanity waited on his attraction for women, but 
 mere features, colouring, did not interest him 
 greatly. 
 
 Of course, he was aware he was good looking, 
 but mercifully he forgot the fact very often. 
 
 As a lover, he was all sufficing, and since much 
 practice goes to make perfection, this fact was not 
 amazing. 
 
 To Doro, he was Heaven, the sun and stars. 
 
 These years of despairing waiting had given her 
 emotional maturity, and had quickened her sense of 
 adaptability through force of acceptance of condi- 
 tions. To-day Pan received the benefit of quick 
 understanding. He must never be thwarted, Doro 
 learnt swiftly, and avoided this catastrophe by 
 agreeing with him or maintaining an innocuous 
 silence. Sorrow, any suffering is popularly sup- 
 posed to endow the sufferer with the gift of under- 
 standing, and most people mistakenly conclude this
 
 252 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 understanding must be universal. In point of fact, 
 whilst any poignant grief must open new channels 
 of vision within one, they are traversed merely for 
 the purpose of carrying one's own thoughts to that 
 other person who counts, and towards the world 
 that pretence of indifference is manifested, which, 
 because it displays itself in courteous and easiest 
 acceptance of most things (from lack of entire de- 
 sire to penetrate into anything at all), is acclaimed 
 as " sympathetic insight " ! 
 
 Anyone who says, "Ah, yes, I know, I under- 
 stand," to the inquirer is bound to be popular. Many 
 women, without ever having had a vestige of hurt- 
 ness of heart even, have achieved a reputation for 
 selflessness simply by the exercise of such speech, 
 and all the while have merely used it as a shield 
 for their boredom ! 
 
 Doro " learnt " Pan ably, and if she found the 
 lesson difficult, she brought concentration to bear 
 on it. 
 
 The discovery that one person can argue, or. 
 rather that it was easier for one person to do so, 
 left her rather silent sometimes ; a second discovery 
 that small vanity is not a woman's prerogative 
 caused further adjustment in her outlook on them. 
 
 But, above all, transfiguring everything, her 
 sheer worship of Pan made every little considera- 
 tion of no value. 
 
 Minor selfishness became "his ways," and, as 
 such, to be laughed at and rather loved; moods
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 253 
 
 existed for her love to disperse; jealousy was, of 
 course, a proof of love, even when it became 
 exigent. For Pan had reached that somewhat 
 pathetic milestone when youth itself has become a 
 dormant grievance, unacknowledged because vanity 
 denies its value, yet nevertheless a very real factor ; 
 in spirit he was antagonistic to it, and though he 
 spoke of it with amused admiration, he could not 
 make his voice of that inflection which conveyed 
 genuine pleasure. 
 
 He delighted in the possession of Doro's youth, 
 but he drew her from direct influence of other 
 youth by subtle use of such words as " flamboyant," 
 " noisy," " banal." 
 
 Doro began to regard any quick call of life as 
 something to be avoided, or indulged in when Pan 
 was far away, and even then with a little ashamed 
 nervousness ! 
 
 Yet she missed nothing ; the days were only time 
 in which to see Pan, to wait for him. 
 
 Occasionally they had some hours together ; late 
 in the season Pan offered to drive her down to 
 Hurstpoint. 
 
 Doro was delighted, lone agreeably interested. 
 
 "For one night only," Pan said, "you'll need 
 very little luggage, Doro." 
 
 The day dawned airless anil goldenly hot, but 
 on the sunny road there was a little cool wind. 
 
 They lunched at a hotel where, alas, the lunch, 
 according to Pan, was everything a lunch should
 
 254 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 not have been; but, luckily, that cloud faded, and 
 when they drove the car over a heather-covered 
 common, and stopped, and sat down on the purple 
 carpet, life became wonderful again. Pan had taken 
 off his cap; he lay back, his hands clasped behind 
 his head, and smiled at her. 
 
 " I should ! " he said encouragingly. 
 
 They both laughed; Doro bent over and kissed 
 him. 
 
 "Again and yet again," he quoted lazily, his 
 golden eyes glowing; tye stretched up a hand and 
 slid it behind her neck, thrusting his fingers deep 
 into her soft hair. " God, you're a delightful thing, 
 Doro." 
 
 " Heavens, you're a darling, Pan," Doro mocked 
 him gaily. 
 
 She sat up, leaning back on one hand, the other 
 straying on Pan's shoulder ; he kissed it, and Doro, 
 looking down, was conscious of a sudden intense 
 tenderness at the sight of that dark, bent head ; she 
 drew it close to her breast and they sat so, and 
 she kissed Pan's hair gently. Near them a may tree 
 stood, flinging its shadow across their resting-place ; 
 the dense blueness of the summer sky pierced the 
 branches, a bird sang somewhere, a bee lumbered 
 past, giving to the afternoon that sense of country 
 sweetness and peace its murmur always wakes. 
 
 Idly, Doro glanced at the heather, already tipped 
 here and there with the paleness of exhaustion be- 
 neath the sunshine ; in the distance trees stood out
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 255 
 
 sharply against the sky; from far away a train 
 whistled, bringing to their intimacy that odd 
 " nearer " sense, the very faint reminder of the 
 outer world conveys. In a patch of shade the car 
 stood, again an emblem, in some way, of their 
 " togetherness." In it they had driven from Kane- 
 lagh on that night when all the stars had seemed 
 to light her soul. 
 
 Of all time did not this hold the hour when Pan 
 and she could talk of the days to be? 
 
 She said peacefully and utterly naturally : 
 
 " Pan, darling, where shall we have to live? Here, 
 or abroad somewhere? " 
 
 He did not start actually, but inwardly he felt 
 jangled, irritated by this forcing of a decision on 
 her part, however unconscious. 
 
 He drew away after a moment on the pretext of 
 getting his cigarette case from his pocket. 
 
 " Where would you like to live? " he asked care- 
 fully. 
 
 " Any place is Heaven if you are near me," Doro 
 teased him; but at his movement, at some latent 
 tone in his voice, one of those incomprehensible, in- 
 describable little shadows fell in her heart which 
 only a lover knows ; she sensed that Pan had " gone 
 away " from her, and yet had no definite ground 
 for believing it. 
 
 Bather shyly, she said: 
 
 " I I suppose, after all, even we will have to 
 settle down some day."
 
 256 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Pan gave a short laugh. 
 
 " You sound optimistic, my dear, I must say ! " 
 
 His eyes were narrowed as they were wont to be 
 in moments of annoyance, his cigarette seemed to 
 be burning badly, he threw it away, and it lit a 
 living path of heather to a point of amethyst flame ; 
 the flame died. 
 
 Doro said a little nervously : 
 
 " You aren't very encouraging, darling, yourself, 
 after all." 
 
 In answer, he pulled her down suddenly beside 
 him and leant his cheek to hers. 
 
 " No, I'm not. I'm a beast to you sometimes, I 
 know. I deserve that you should hate me, but I love 
 you, love you, love you. Do you hear? " 
 
 How could she fail.to hear and be swayed by the 
 words she loved best of any? 
 
 Pan forced her gently back on to the heather and 
 leant upon his elbow gazing at her. 
 
 She smiled at him under white lids, her eyes, in 
 their lashes' soft shade, a glint of deep blue-green 
 loveliness. 
 
 " Open them," Pan commanded, " wide ! " 
 
 Doro obeyed laughingly, shyly; she opened them 
 widely and the strong golden light filled them : Pan 
 had once said that when most she loved him her 
 eyes were greenest. 
 
 " Is it all right? " she questioned with tender 
 gaiety.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 257 
 
 He was gazing at her sombrely; she looked so 
 young and yet so intensely alluring with those inno- 
 cently passionate eyes. . . . 
 
 He bent and kissed her, locking his arms about 
 
 . 
 
 her with a fierce pressure, almost hurting her with 
 long, hard kisses. 
 
 She forgot the question of the hour entirely ; the 
 world seemed a place where purple heather met a 
 purple blue sky, where softest summer winds blew 
 from a far sea, and where love was a joy so wild it 
 seemed to hold pain within its depths. 
 
 They stayed in one another's arms ; Pan reached 
 for a cigarette and they smoked it between them, 
 talking with that careless content that only lovers 
 know, laughing at nothing, endlessly, boundlessly 
 happy. 
 
 Cyclists passed on the far road, other cars. 
 
 " Who cares? " Pan asked with superb disdain. 
 
 " It must be tea-time," Doro said at last. " Dar- 
 ling, we must hurry; we'll never reach home for 
 dinner." 
 
 " Who cares? " Pan repeated, his ardent eyes on 
 her face. " Do you? " 
 
 " Not a bit," she confessed, " as long as we are 
 together, I do not care if we never reach anywhere." 
 
 Pan's darkly golden eyes flashed suddenly. 
 
 " I wonder if women ever mean that sort of 
 remark? " he said slowly. 
 
 Doro, unpacking the tea-basket, laughed over her 
 shoulder.
 
 258 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " This woman means it," she said ; " you and I 
 you and I Pan ..." 
 
 She came and knelt before him. 
 
 " I feel sometimes as if a veil had dropped be- 
 tween us and all the rest of the world, and we stood 
 on one side of it, blessedly, beautifully alone." 
 
 " You think lovers have a right to be that ," 
 
 he hesitated, under his tan he had paled a little ; " I 
 mean, you think they can make laws for themselves 
 that they as you say, can shut themselves off 
 from the world; have the right to live for them- 
 selves?" 
 
 " Yes I think I meant that." 
 
 She looked at him with a little puzzled gaze ; her 
 speech had been a speech of love ; it had held love's 
 meaning for the moment, and so served its purpose : 
 Pan's insistence on its gravity was rather con- 
 fusing. 
 
 She made tea, and they picnicked delightfully. 
 
 "We must go," Doro said, "Pan darling; we 
 must, honestly." 
 
 " Why? " he asked. 
 
 " Well, angel, it's seven, Hurstpoint is far, and if 
 we are going to see them, it seems hardly courteous: 
 to arrive so late we cannot see them because they'll 
 have gone to bed ! " 
 
 "Suppose we don't go at all?" Pan suggested 
 lazily ; he did not look at her. 
 
 " Just go back, you mean? " Doro said dubiously.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 259 
 
 "No, go on somewhere else. Just you and I. 
 Have one evening all to ourselves ; one perfect even- 
 ing to remember all the time we're not together. We 
 could say " he made a great pretence of hunting 
 for matches: "Ah, here they are we could tell 
 lone we had a breakdown. ... Of course, if you'd 
 rather not " His voice grew flat, disinterested. 
 
 " I I it would be heavenly sweet," Doro said 
 with eager anxiety to meet his every wish. " Dar- 
 ling, I would love it, but but doesn't it sound 
 wouldn't it seem " 
 
 " Oh, possibly it would. It was simply a rather 
 'wild idea ; it seemed beautiful. ..." 
 
 He had risen, now he stretched. 
 
 " Come on, I'll take the basket." 
 
 All the joy and " nearness " had gone ; Doro felt 
 guilty, piteously shy, and punished. 
 
 She went to him and put her arms about him. 
 
 " Oh, darling, yes, if you like if really it won't 
 matter, and you think lone won't be coldly 
 furious " 
 
 " She need not know, Beautiful," Pan said, his 
 voice caressing again, his eyes glowing. " Doro, you 
 mean it? Listen then, Sweetness: We'll put up at 
 some inn and dine together, and then I'll I can 
 cut off and sleep in another pub, any old place, 
 and come in for breakfast in the morning. And if 
 lone asks we'll tell her and if she doesn't, and it's 
 a thousand to one chance she will, or take any 
 interest at all, we'll lie low and ' say nuffinV And
 
 260 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 we'll have had, what we've never had, one whole 
 gorgeous evening together. Beautiful, you are the 
 most generous giver in the world." 
 
 But, in the car, speeding in search of the " perfect 
 little place " Pan had " heard of," Doro felt that 
 nameless dislike for this project which was so seem- 
 ingly fair and sweet. 
 
 " You really think it won't matter that lone 
 would understand? " she questioned bravely, yet 
 fearfully, dreading Pan's bleak look of disinterest. 
 
 But he looked at her now with tender amusement : 
 
 " Little frightened baby ! All right, we'll go on, 
 my darling, and render unto lone a faultless recital 
 of our blameless outing! How's that? " 
 
 " Oh, darling ! " Doro said, kissing his sleeve. 
 
 " Then laugh with the jasmine eyes ! Hang it all, 
 I believe you're frightened of me ! " 
 
 " I am not ! " Doro cried. " Oh, Pan, look, the 
 sunset." 
 
 Pan slowed the car down and they gazed together 
 at the sky, which was like a field of flowers : laven- 
 der, lilac, mimosa, and the soft scarlet of deep 
 peonies ; high up, a star, like a primrose, shone. 
 
 " We must be moving," Pan said ; " a quarter to 
 eight. Hullo, an inn, I'll get some water, I think; 
 the radiator seems pretty warm." 
 
 He went into the inn and, after a time, an old 
 man brought a can of water, spilt it successfully 
 over the nickel-work, and accepted a shilling grate- 
 fully.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 261 
 
 " Now to pace ! " Pan said ; his voice held a note 
 of excitement; he caught Doro close in one hand 
 and laughed down into her face. 
 
 " All the dawns and sunsets which have ever been 
 are not as beautiful as you," he said. 
 
 The car took a hill at a splendid rush, coughed, 
 hesitated, stopped. 
 
 " Damn," Pan said ; he lifted the bonnet. 
 
 " Out of petrol, all but," he said ; " we will run 
 back to the inn ; she will do that." 
 
 The car went back well ; the old man reappeared. 
 
 " I guessed you'd be back," he said amiably, " by 
 the smell o' that oil when you'd gone ! An' a pool 
 in the road but it is all done dried up now I 
 dunno ! " 
 
 He was evidently ignorant of petrol's power of 
 evaporation. 
 
 Of course, there was no petrol, and the nearest 
 village was some miles away, and there might be 
 none there. 
 
 Pan's dark eyes were laughing ; he said to Doro : 
 
 " Pate's decided, darling ! " 
 
 It seemed so useless now to argue, to complain 
 or worry. 
 
 "Pate has decided," Doro echoed a little wist- 
 fully. 
 
 " Kind fate ! " Pan smiled. 
 
 He went inside the small, spotless bar to see the 
 host and order rooms, dinner, arrange everything.
 
 262 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Doro sat on a bench beneath a hedge of most 
 aspiring hollyhocks and wondered about things. 
 
 Convention, in its strongest form, had never in- 
 terested her, for the excellent reason that she was 
 not vitally impressed by the obvious details of an 
 everyday life ; she had never worried about conven- 
 tion because she had always been conventional! 
 
 Of course, Pan's love and hers was different from 
 everyone else's in the world; and, of course (her 
 sense of honour prompted that admission!) every- 
 one else thought exactly the same thing about their 
 love! 
 
 Still, there "was a difference he was in the 
 family 
 
 And, after all, it was not a crime to have a break- 
 down and stay at an inn only it was a disad- 
 vantage ! 
 
 Then Pan reappeared ; he came over to the bench 
 and sat down beside her and said in that repressed 
 voice, which had such power to move Doro's heart : 
 
 " Let us have one evening of all our love ; it has 
 been given us, Loveliest, after all Doro be 
 happy." 
 
 His cool hand slid over hers, imprisoning it on 
 the sun-hot wooden seat. 
 
 " Doro, look at me." 
 
 In that look Doro forgot convention, the small 
 worry of her mind. 
 
 The white road was empty far and near: Pan 
 kissed her full on the mouth ; he " left " a little kiss
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 263 
 
 with her and drew away from her, smiling mis- 
 chievously. 
 
 " You have a room all musty and clean and dread- 
 ful ! " he assured her blithely. " Texts to the right 
 of you, texts to the left of you, baby ! Yellow soap, 
 and a dimity frill to your dressing-table." 
 
 " And where do you go? " Doro asked. 
 
 " Heaven knows ! " he laughed. 
 
 A little black-haired woman took Doro upstairs 
 to the room Pan had described so exhilaratingly ; 
 he had not erred about its charms. Certainly this 
 inn laid no claim to being a godless hostel. 
 
 But they dined in the garden, and a car passed. 
 Doro heard it go. 
 
 " We could borrow some petrol," she said. 
 
 " Next car ! " Pan promised. 
 
 But the next had passed too before they could 
 rise from the table. 
 
 Ten o'clock chimed as they ordered coffee from an 
 obviously disgruntled landlady. 
 
 When it came it was undrinkable. 
 
 Pan went into the bar to give a last order con- 
 cerning the petrol a "hand " was charged to fetch. 
 
 "'E's callin' 'ere about five, sir," the landlord 
 said; "young feller off of a farm as lives near 
 Fresham. 'E'll ride on his bike an' get you 'nough 
 to tow you along." 
 
 Pan thanked him. 
 
 " Leave the door, will you? " he suggested. " We 
 shall come in soon, but it's so cool outside."
 
 264 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Doro and he walked in the old rambling garden ; 
 it had a sweetbriar hedge, and tobacco plants and 
 stocks; beyond it an orchard lay. 
 
 " Eden ! " Pan half whispered, laughing a little. 
 
 The car stood in an open shed just beside the high 
 gate which shut off the garden from the orchard. 
 
 "Wait!" he said. 
 
 He fetched the rug from the car, and together 
 they entered the orchard. 
 
 It smelt pungently fragrant ; the moon had risen 
 and flooded through the branches, starring the deep 
 grass with pale pearls of light. 
 
 Pan opened the r,:g under a tree. 
 
 " Now, are you not glad we had to stay? " 
 
 He spoke against Doro's lips and felt her shiver 
 at his nearness. 
 
 " Are you not? " 
 
 " Yes, oh yes." 
 
 They lay close to one another, Doro's head upon 
 Pan's outflung arm, their faces so near a sigh 
 seemed sighed between them. 
 
 " This is living, this is love," Doro whispered. 
 
 " This is madness," Pan laughed, kissing her eyes, 
 her hair, her throat. " Ah, Doro Doro ! " 
 
 Across his mind wild thoughts raced, faded, 
 seemed to blaze like fire. Had he ever meant this 
 hour to come? Should he be afraid to take it now? 
 Other men had no such scruples. After all, Doro 
 loved him all the passion was not his. Could they 
 not live abroad? She was his last love; this, he
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 265 
 
 knew, was the passion of life. Kexf ord Hurstpoint 
 one had but one life, and it was passing passing. 
 
 "Oh Pan, oh Pan, this is Heaven, to feel you 
 close, to be able to kiss you in the darkness, and 
 not dread someone coming! Ah, yes, I'm glad we 
 are here. I never loved you before as I love you 
 now to-night " 
 
 " Is that true? " he asked her, straining back his 
 head to look into her eyes. 
 
 " You know it. Can you not feel it? " 
 
 " Let me feel it." 
 
 His hand slid like a kiss from her throat to her 
 heart, and it seemed to Doro as if he cupped her 
 heart in that clasp and took it wholly to himself. 
 
 He had drawn the pins from her hair ; it fell over 
 both their faces, a warm fragrant veil, as they 
 kissed and kissed. 
 
 " You belong to me we belong," Pan murmured. 
 
 " Pan, never let me go, grow tired of me." 
 
 " I shall be dust when I loose you," he said som- 
 brely, " but you " 
 
 " How can you? " Doro cried, her voice breaking 
 with that hurtness only passionate love when it is 
 doubted can feel. " How can you? All my life lies 
 in your hands. I don't mind; I do not care what 
 you do with it, as long as it mingles with your life. 
 As I love you I shall never love again. I could not 
 love anyone else ; all I have ever felt, suffered, has 
 been for you. It is you, you, you every hour, every
 
 266 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 minute, and oh ! you know it so well, and yet you 
 taunt me " 
 
 " If I doubt it is because I fear so," Pan said 
 hoarsely, and he bent his head suddenly so that he 
 laid his face on her knee. 
 
 She looked down at him with a mingling of ten- 
 derness and passion, and somehow pity; then, very 
 gently, she drew him up until his lips touched hers ; 
 that token of surrender, the evidence of such a love, 
 was like a point of flame set to the repressed fire in 
 Pan's heart. He took Doro's face and held it so, 
 her chin gripped by his hand, and then his mouth 
 pressed hers so deeply, so hardly, that she gave a 
 little cry, but Pan's kiss stifled it into soundless- 
 ness. His lips stayed on hers; he seemed to be 
 drawing her life blood, her heart-beats, the very 
 essence of her being from her. 
 
 At last he released her, and they stayed so. Pan 
 put a shaking hand over his eyes. 
 
 But still upon them both was the magic of that 
 kiss ; they seemed to kiss again without volition, as 
 naturally as they breathed, and again the kiss grew 
 closer ; it became a demand, a surrender, a joy past 
 bearing. 
 
 " This is love this is love : feel my heart reel 
 it," Doro said. 
 
 The words quivered on her lips. 
 
 Her voice came to Pan as if from a great dis- 
 tance, but it brought in its echo the memory of her 

 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 267 
 
 as a being apart as well as this wildly sweet young 
 lover whose kisses rivalled his own. 
 
 He said, striving for control : 
 
 " You must not feel so your heart " 
 
 It leapt like a soaring flame under his hand. 
 
 " Doro," he said helplessly. 
 
 " I believe I was born to love you, just for that, 
 only for that! Oh! if I could die now, utterly, 
 utterly happy. Pan, do you remember the poem, 
 1 In the Orchard,' we read one day together in the 
 library at Hurstpoint? We should have read it 
 here. Then, I didn't know. Now, I do. I know now 
 what it means ' life running over, life near to go ' : 
 to want the person you love, to love and love you, 
 even if it hurts. Oh, Pan, can you believe to-morrow 
 can ever come and we wake and find this hour has 
 gone? Never to return, to be re-lived. One little 
 hour it dies and life flows over it and goes on " 
 
 Pan put an arm about her, and they sat so, lean- 
 ing against the tree, cheek to cheek. 
 
 "Yes, I remember," he said gently. "I can see 
 you now in the library, the firelight, the gold and 
 white of you, and your shining eyes, so really like 
 jasmine leaves, the little golden stars dancing in 
 them from the fire. We thought we loved then 
 but now " 
 
 She slid an arm round his neck, and ruffled his 
 thick, short hair. 
 
 " Does one remember ! " he said.
 
 268 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " We are in the orchard now," Doro murmured. 
 She began softly : 
 
 " Leave go my hands, let me catch breath and see; 
 Let the dew-fall drench either side of me; 
 
 Clear apple-leaves are soft upon that moon, 
 Keen sidelong like a blossom on the tree; 
 
 Ah God,ah God,that day should be so soon " 
 
 A thrill shook her at the beauty of the words, 
 and she kissed it upon Pan's lips. Close to him, her 
 mouth touching his, she went on, quickening again 
 to the thought of the poem : 
 
 " The grass is thick and cool, it lets us lie. 
 Kissed upon either cheek and either eye, 
 
 I turn to thee as some green afternoon 
 Turns towards sunset and is loth to die. 
 
 Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon." 
 
 " It will be dawn early," Pan said ; " the moon is 
 failing now." 
 
 " I never want this night to die. I want you to 
 love me all over again." 
 
 " Love me, though dusk begin and dark retire 
 Hold my hair fast, and kiss me through it so ! " 
 Half laughing, the shaken, low laugh of love, she 
 drew a mesh of her hair about them both. 
 
 " Kiss me love me ; swear, for ever." 
 
 " For ever. Doro, listen. We have to-night, it is 
 ours give it to me wholly, make it the night un-
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 269 
 
 forgettable of both our lives. Let me kiss you till 
 the dawn. I swear to you by all that is holy, you 
 shall never regret it. I swear to you I will be good 
 to you Doro = " 
 
 She had drawn a little away. Shy fear struggled 
 with her, adoration, and a strange sense of for- 
 lornness. 
 
 A bird stirred somewhere ; Pan moved restlessly. 
 In the moonlight she saw his face, white, with bril- 
 liant eyes. 
 
 Uncertainly, she whispered his name. 
 
 He caught her to him desperately. 
 
 " Doro our night it will soon be dawn " 
 
 Together they walked through the soft lush grass ; 
 a shape loomed before them, moved. Doro gave a 
 little cry ; she heard Pan say reassuringly : " It is 
 all right, darling." 
 
 He went forward ; there was a scamper of hoofs, 
 a glitter of frightened eyes, and the colt bolted 
 away, and Pan uttered some word sharply as he fell. 
 
 Doro knelt beside him. 
 
 " Darling, you aren't hurt? " 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 Doro called again. She put her arms round him, 
 and lifted him up. His eyes were closed ; across one 
 temple a black mark showed, a little blood was 
 running from it. 
 
 " Pan Pan " Doro whispered frantically ; a 
 
 fear which choked her breath seized her. She knelt
 
 270 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 on, holding Pan in her arms, whispering his name 
 over and over. 
 
 And suddenly she knew. 
 
 He was dead.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 " The lack of Justice in life is one of life's greatest 
 mysteries. . . . We are always finding excuses or reasons 
 for acts of Providence which, to our own inner conscience, 
 are the reverse of Just and Right." RICHARD KING. 
 
 it T AM sorry," lone said with delicate clearness, 
 " really sorry, my dear Tony. You see, I 
 had no idea." 
 
 Kexford had come up to town to go to Tattersall's 
 and had, naturally, called in at Berkeley Square. G 
 and he had heard reports of Doro's success; the 
 fame of her loveliness had spread. Tony had said 
 nothing, but had been entirely delighted, and G 
 had said a great deal, and that had delighted him 
 too. 
 
 Tony, immaculate, if hot, had been hailed by lone 
 with real pleasure; she might scoff about him and 
 G, she might ridicule them to their faces, she might 
 also be an indiscriminate hostess, a most liberal 
 critic, but in her there was an unalienable adhesion 
 to her own breeding, the " clan " instinct had never 
 died or even faltered. . 
 
 She chose to be every sort of woman for her own 
 amusement, but she remained au fond a great lady. 
 
 Tony had asked for Doro at once, and lone had 
 commiserated with him on having missed her, since 
 Pan was driving her at that moment to Hurstpoint 
 for the night. 
 
 271
 
 272 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Into Tony's face an almost blasted look of rage 
 had come ; it was as though his own rage struck him 
 and disfigured him. 
 
 He conquered himself and said nuskily : 
 
 " To Hurstpoint, begad ! Damn. It's like his 
 insolence ! How long has it been going on has he 
 been here? " 
 
 In a lightning flash, when he had explained the 
 truth, lone realized the seriousness of this matter. 
 She knew Tony's worst suspicions to be just; she 
 knew herself to have been reprehensively careless. 
 
 " But Doro knows Pan is married," she said. 
 
 " She may ; I'm not sure. When I sent him off 
 he was over here about a divorce. We never spoke 
 of the matter. That's not the point now, either." 
 
 " No," she answered simply, and added : " What 
 do you mean to do?" 
 
 She made no effort to suggest comfort, nor did she 
 utter soothing platitudes about things, " never being 
 so bad as they seemed," and so on. She was a woman 
 who knew her own men. 
 
 " I'll get off back at once," Tony said grimly. 
 
 He kissed her absently and marched out. 
 
 lone walked to the window aimlessly ; abominable, 
 the whole thing. Why had not Tony trusted her in 
 the first instance? But why should he have done? 
 If it had been Nicholas, she would have spoken of 
 it to no one. Every thought she had damned Pan 
 and despised him. And inevitably perhaps she 
 thought : " If the girl had been one of us, really
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 273 
 
 one of us, this could not have happened." Though 
 she knew this was unfair ; some obscure " family " 
 sense made her very resentful of Tony's agony of 
 spirit about Doro. 
 
 Cars passed and repassed in the square ; a barrel 
 organ was playing somewhere. lone had a hundred 
 and one things to do, appointments, visits to pay; 
 she stayed beside the window. 
 
 She felt both distressed and affronted, and her 
 dignity of life had been struck at ; this sort of rather 
 cheap affair should not happen. She resented it 
 extremely, and her resentment fixed itself definitely 
 upon Doro's secrecy. 
 
 Finally, with an expression of bored annoyance 
 on her face, she went up to her room and rang for 
 her maid to dress her. 
 
 But all the afternoon, despite a rather amusing 
 rencontre with a man who had adored her for years, 
 and despite pleasant places and people, she could 
 not shake off a little sense of anxiety. 
 
 The butler told her when she returned, just in 
 time to change for dinner after a dash to Hurling- 
 ham, that " Lord Rexford had rung up to ask what 
 time Mr. Greville and Miss Doro had started? " 
 
 " I told his lordship," the man added. 
 
 Again that " little " sense stirred uneasily. 
 
 It woke to definite, sharp anxiety when, upon 
 her return home at one o'clock in the morning, she 
 found Tony ringing up from Hurstpoint to say Doro 
 and Pan had never arrived.
 
 274 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 "Tony wait don't ring off," lone said miser-' 
 ably, uncertain what to say, suggest. " D'you think 
 an accident has happened?" she hazarded. 
 
 Neither had anything to say in reality. lone 
 passed a sleepless night, and rang up Hurstpoint 
 at seven o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Tony had no news for her. 
 
 A spasm of intense anger against Pan and Doro 
 seized lone. She raged inwardly, as women of her 
 type do, most rarely permitting themselves to 
 express anger. At eight the telephone rang again. 
 A man's voice, a stranger's voice asked : 
 
 " Is that Mrs. Lascelles? " 
 
 "Yes. Mrs. Lascelles is speaking now." 
 
 " I am Dr. Holcott. I am speaking from my house 
 at Moor Green, a village between Godalming and 
 Petworth. If you can, will you come down here 
 immediately? Your brother, Mr. Greville, has been 
 taken seriously ill." 
 
 " Yes, I will come. Who is with him? " 
 
 There was a pause. The voice answered 
 cautiously : 
 
 " A lady." 
 
 lone heard the receiver click. 
 
 She told her husband to ring up Tony while she 
 dressed. The call came through rather quickly. 
 Tony's voice said : 
 
 " Doro is here. Pan was killed by a horse's kick 
 last night." 
 
 " I am coming," lone answered mechanically.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 "La necessite empoisonnc les maux qudle ne pent 
 guerir" LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 NO influence could avert an inquest. The Barley 
 Mow Inn and the little village became famous. 
 Mrs. Lawe, the landlord's wife, was never 
 tired of giving reporters a full account of all that 
 had happened. Doro's face looked out at the world 
 from every half -penny rag; the " romantic secret " 
 of her birth and adoption was published far and 
 wide, and many other things were published, con- 
 tradicted, published again, and so on, until the 
 interest in the affair died. 
 
 It died slowly, and lone suffered a rage of humil- 
 iation whilst it lasted. 
 
 She went everywhere it was possible to go whilst 
 mourning Pan's death, and she maintained an even 
 composure before her world; she stayed in town 
 until the accustomed date for her departure. Doro 
 was obliged, or certain technical reasons, to be at 
 Berkeley Square for the last week of June. 
 
 She had ceased to mind where she was; Hurst- 
 point had been like a prison. Tony had spoken 
 seldom, G was ill, even the servants looked at her 
 askance. No one quite understood what had hap- 
 
 275
 
 276 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 pened that night at the inn or, rather, everyone 
 believed what they secretly wished to believe, and 
 that is nearly always the worst. 
 
 lone was as just to Doro as it was in her to be; 
 but she, too, had suffered, and suffering had changed 
 her brilliance to a certain light bitterness which 
 wounded and stung. 
 
 Doro knew, as if lone had said the words to her, 
 that she would never forgive her for having created 
 " a disgraceful scandal " in the family. 
 
 It was the one unforgivable sin. Doro ceased to 
 care, finally, what she thought or what anyone 
 thought. After any tragedy, great or small, there 
 follows a period of exhaustion in which is enfolded 
 banality, a tepid dreariness, simply by reason of 
 contrast. 
 
 This exhaustion settled on Doro. She lived 
 through the days in a sort of grey trance, a cloak of 
 misery about her soul, a deadly weariness in her 
 body. 
 
 Occasionally, in the night, she would wake and 
 remember, and feel for one second the intense sor- 
 row which, at first, had nearly cost her her reason. 
 She would re-imagine that last long look at Pan 
 when he had lain so white, so still in his coffin, the 
 chiselled beauty of his face a wonderful mask in 
 death. 
 
 lone had insisted with disinterested composure 
 that she should take up her music again. 
 
 " You must do something."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 277 
 
 Cavini, astute as only a bourgeois Italian or 
 Frenchman who has made himself known can be, 
 jhad wondered greatly about Doro; the truth con- 
 icerning her birth had intrigued him greatly. 
 
 He rallied her on her slackness. 
 
 " What does it matter? " Doro asked bleakly. 
 "What does anything matter, or will anything, a 
 hundred years hence? " 
 
 Nothing mattered now, nor did anyone care what 
 [became of her. 
 
 She seemed to belong to no one. Tony rarely 
 spoke; lone was unapproachable; she had sinned 
 jpast forgiveness. 
 
 Gazing at Cavini, a thought struck her for the 
 first time. 
 
 For weeks she had been seeking an escape; sud- 
 Idenly, it seemed to her, a way opened. 
 
 Cavini had been searching for some music; he 
 Iturned and gave a snort of contemptuous clearness. 
 
 "Who talks of a hundred years hence?" he re- 
 torted. " I speak of to-day, and the fact that you 
 are neglecting your voice. Oh, you women with your 
 sentimentality, it would not matter if it did not 
 affect you vitally. But it does. Something has 
 happened to you, and you refuse, therefore, to take 
 care of the loveliest gift a woman can have. My 
 God, how wasteful and how silly, too ! For if one 
 thing fails, why not take up another? Nothing sat- 
 isfies so much in this life as Art, when one sue-
 
 278 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 ceeds in it. And you, you have the voice to carry 
 you where you wish." 
 
 Doro gave a hard little laugh. 
 
 " Then let it and you guide me," she said com- 
 posedly, but two brilliant spots of colour flamed in 
 her cheeks. 
 
 Cavini said testily : 
 
 " I do not understand." 
 
 "Ah! like most people, now you are asked to 
 prove your words you draw back." 
 
 " What words how? " Cavini ejaculated. 
 
 Doro rose and stood beside the piano. 
 
 " You said just now, if one thing failed, why not 
 take up another, and that nothing succeeds like suc- 
 cessful Art. And you believe in my voice. Very 
 well, take it, me, train both of us for the opera." 
 
 Cavini's little eyes glittered for a moment, then 
 he said unctuously : 
 
 " Ah ! you jest, signorina. Your people, what of 
 them?" 
 
 " I do not belong to them," Doro said slowly ; and 
 as she spoke, for the very first time in her life, she 
 realized that truth. Sudden burning tears filled her 
 eyes ; through them she gazed at Cavini. 
 
 '* Are you willing to do this? " she asked him 
 defiantly. 
 
 He opened his hand with a deprecating gesture. 
 Already his astute mind was weighing the possible 
 loss, wealthy profits, consequent upon his exploita- 
 tion of Doro, should he entertain her suggestion.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 279 
 
 And as she stood there, the faint sunlight touch- 
 ing her hair, her face etherealized by its sadness, 
 sheer artistic admiration swept aside every other 
 consideration. At last there would be a young Mimi, 
 slight, alluring, passionately appealing, and Louise 
 and Carmen and then in Wagnerian work. . . ! 
 
 He caught hold of Doro's hands. 
 
 " Yes, and yes, and yes ! " he exclaimed, the 
 moisture of artistic perception glistening in his 
 eyes, the vision of triumphant achievement in his 
 mind. 
 
 " Then," Doro said indifferently, " I want to leave 
 England at once."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 " My heart it was a cup of gold 
 That at his lip did long to He, 
 But he hath drunk the red wine down, 
 And tossed the goblet by. 
 
 "My heart it was a white, white rose, 
 That bloomed upon a broken bough; 
 He did but wear it for an hour, 
 And it is withered now." 
 
 JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM. 
 
 ff T"^UT my dear Tony, you cannot stop her," 
 J lone said quietly. 
 
 She was sitting on the edge of his sofa, 
 upon which he was lying, recovering from an attack 
 of illness. His head was still obliged to be kept low, 
 and now he twisted about seeking to get comfort- 
 able, making himself appear an unwieldly mound of 
 heaps and bumps, covered by a singularly brilliant 
 Chinese dressing-gown. 
 
 " My dear, don't take it so hard." 
 
 Tony answered nothing. After one violent speech 
 of denunciation and reprisal he had scarcely spoken. 
 Doro still visited him, and he still ignored her. 
 
 His attitude, " I'll bring her round," was the last 
 by which to influence her at this time. 
 
 Both were supremely unhappy, both quite intent 
 on having their own way. lone, irritated to the 
 
 280
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 281 
 
 verge of a breakdown, was the buffer between them. 
 
 Already Doro's plans had been arranged ; she was 
 to leave for Paris during the week. Of this Tony 
 kne.w nothing ; he still clung obstinately to the idea 
 that Doro could do little because he could render 
 her penniless. 
 
 He kept this fact to himself, proposing to reveal 
 it only as a last weapon. 
 
 Doro went into Tony's room this evening whilst 
 lone was there ; she was in a linen walking-dress. 
 
 lone was wrapped in a pale lemon-coloured lace 
 teagown; both looked listless. 
 
 Tony humped himself up and glared at them. 
 
 If either had felt the possibility of amusement, 
 this " I-must-have-my-own-way small-boy " atti- 
 tude would have been amusing ; but Doro, aware she 
 must tell him of her departure, lone tired out by 
 the exercise of a patience which was unnatural to 
 her, merely felt the strain of everything, its weari- 
 ness and futility. 
 
 lone lit a cigarette and handed her case to Doro. 
 Through the open windows the soft roar of Picca- 
 dilly sounded ; the trees in the square had a heavy 
 covering of grey dust; the air seemed exhausted 
 by the fierce summer heat. 
 
 Tone's dark eyes questioned Doro not unsym- 
 pathetically. Personally she considered Doro was 
 doing, if not a wise thing, a thing which held less 
 unwisdom than any other course. It was manifestly 
 impossible for her to take up life at Hurstpoint
 
 282 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 under the existing circumstances; it was equally 
 impossible to propose marriage for her for the same 
 reason. Somehow Doro must obtain means to help 
 her forget, live down. 
 
 lone knew life does not run to schedule, as Tony 
 appeared to think it did, and that youth because it 
 was youth is not malleable (and is, indeed, when 
 love has touched it, the least malleable of all 
 things) : his other outlook, that all youth needed 
 to heal its wounds was substitution, was equally 
 fallacious in Doro's case, and he was equally pig- 
 headed on this point. He would, when he chose to, 
 forgive Doro get her anything she wanted. 
 
 He was about to put this fact into words when 
 Doro's voice, low and not quite steady, said : 
 
 " Darling, I am leaving with Cavini for Paris 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Tony stared at her, then he said hoarsely : 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " Yes, and and, Tony darling, won't you, won't 
 you try to understand, and let me go feeling feel- 
 ing " She faltered and stopped. 
 
 Tony said with sledge-hammer clearness : 
 
 " If you go you don't come back. You understand 
 that. If you become a singer you cease to be my 
 adopted daughter. That's all I have to say." 
 
 Unconsciously lone had placed herself beside 
 him. To Doro they seemed two foes in that moment. 
 
 " Tony," she said in a whisper.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 283 
 
 He believed her to be weakening. He did not 
 know that there are tears born of highest courage 
 as well as those of weakness ; he determined to push 
 home his advantage. 
 
 " If you go, you go penniless," he said. " An' 
 you and I are through it is finished." 
 
 Doro turned blindly and sought the door; she 
 got out of the room somehow and reached her own. 
 
 Tony said sharply to lone : 
 
 " She'll come round."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 " Thou giv'st thy laughter only unto one. 
 
 He hath no eyes to see. 
 Give, when his bitter jest with thee is done, 
 Thy tears to me." 
 
 MARY COLENDRE. 
 
 NICHOLAS sauntered in to Eex after lunch. 
 Eex was just changing to go down to the 
 river ; he was pulling on a blazer as Nicholas 
 stated bitterly : 
 
 " Here's a pretty go ! " 
 
 Eex looked at him ; he had a letter in his hand. 
 
 " It's from Mother here." 
 
 Eex read it ; he was conscious that Nicholas was 
 whistling between his teeth, strolling about and 
 moving things, looking for a certain brand of 
 cigarettes. 
 
 He folded the letter and said composedly : 
 
 " There, in that porcelain box. I say, Nicholas, I 
 shall go up to town." 
 
 " Whaffor? " Nicholas asked, Ms mouth full of 
 cake. 
 
 " Oh, I must," Eex answered, and began changing 
 into town kit swiftly. 
 
 It was, however, not until after eight that he 
 managed to reach Berkeley Square; he asked for 
 Doro. 
 
 284
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 285 
 
 "I believe Miss Greville's in the gardens, sir," 
 the butler said. " She asked for the key a little 
 while back." 
 
 " I'll go across," Hex said. 
 
 He saw a white dress in the bloomy darkness, and 
 walked in that direction. 
 
 He halted near and called: 
 
 " Doro ! " 
 
 His heart leapt wildly as he heard the gladness 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Kex you?" 
 
 j 
 
 He went and sat on the green-painted curved seat 
 beside her ; he wanted to shake hands, but his hands 
 were trembling; all of him had trembled at her 
 voice ; he put his entire will into the effort to obtain 
 complete mastery of himself again. All the way up 
 in the train he had been practising his part in this 
 scene; he had conceived his role to be first that of 
 a listener, then, little by little, they would discuss 
 everything very quietly and then he would tell 
 her the real object of his visit. 
 
 He had written to her as soon as he had heard of 
 Pan's death he had written again and again and 
 received no answer; it had been impossible, by his 
 father's orders, for him to leave Oxford. Doro had 
 never received his letters. He was wholly uncertain 
 of her attitude towards Pan ; it was impossible for 
 him, knowing so little, to rank her affection at its 
 value, but he felt, when he thought of Pan, that still
 
 286 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 black hatred which is like lightning striking the 
 steel of a man's nature. 
 
 Pan was dead, but he had injured Doro by his 
 death ; and indirectly that injury had driven her to 
 this. 
 
 Rex said now, leaning a little forward, his hands 
 gripped one within the other : 
 
 " Are you going to tell me? " 
 
 " There isn't anything to tell, except that I leave 
 for Paris to-morrow with Cavini and his wife." 
 
 "You are going away?" Rex asked almost 
 vacantly. " So soon? " 
 
 " Yes, I imagined you had heard, and had come 
 to say good-bye. Tony refuses to see me again." 
 
 She turned to him, and he knew there were tears 
 in her eyes. 
 
 He put out his hand, and let it rest secretly on 
 her dress ; just to touch her so gave his anxiety rest, 
 seemed to heal his desperate longing a little. 
 
 A tear fell on his hand. 
 
 As if it had been a key unlocking the gates of 
 his pent-up passion, words rushed to his lips. 
 
 He heard them, recognized the violence of his 
 pleading, abasement, almost with self-amazement. 
 
 But he would not draw back now; it was only 
 when Doro's reiterated cry, " Rex oh, Rex ! " 
 reached his mind through its encompassing blaze of 
 passionate adoration that he faltered and stopped. 
 
 About them there was that stillness which a 
 garden can hold in the midst of a hurrying world ;
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 287 
 
 the fragrant peace was like a keen mockery to Kex ; 
 he moved restlessly, and as he did so Doro rose. 
 
 He, too, stood up. 
 
 " Don't go," he said hoarsely, " don't go yet. 
 Don't, don't leave me like this." 
 
 " But everything is spoilt ; you don't understand. 
 Oh, why, why did you tell me this? " 
 
 He said, very low and breathless : 
 
 " Beautiful, don't you realize I couldn't help 
 myself? I didn't mean to tell you anything. I came 
 just to try and comfort you and then you cried 
 and I could see your face in the dusk, and about 
 you there clings some scent and it drifted into my 
 brain, I think you were all sweetness and tired 
 loveliness." 
 
 "Don't, oh don't!" 
 
 She did not mean to be cruel, but this scene with 
 Kex was an anti-climax; it was almost incredible 
 and yet it was true. Love, such love as this, which 
 spent itself in words of wildest adoration, which 
 abased itself utterly ; Eex, the boy she had laughed 
 at, known so well with easy affection. She was 
 angry if she was definitely anything, and yet angry 
 and sorry at once ; he had thrust upon her a burden 
 she felt, when already she was bowed down with 
 weariness. 
 
 He began an impetuous speech. 
 
 " Please please," she said. 
 
 He gave a little bitter laugh, the sheer banality
 
 288 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 of that word was cruel, as banality always is, must 
 be, to young love. 
 
 " You can't you can't leave me like this dis- 
 miss my love with a * please,' as if it were an offer- 
 ing so paltry you could refuse it as you refuse a 
 servant's offer of a new dish ! It does not matter to 
 you ; it is my life, all my life, do you hear? " 
 
 " You think so DOW," Doro said bitterly, hurt in 
 her turn by his denunciation. She made a great 
 effort to be kind, to overcome her weary consterna- 
 tion and help Kex if she could. 
 
 " Bex dear, don't you see," she said gently, " I 
 I have finished with love. I can't talk about it, 
 even to you." 
 
 He faced her with white stubbornness; his own 
 love was all that mattered. 
 
 "You never knew love, you never met it," he 
 burst out, contempt, appeal, anguish beating behind 
 his low voice. " I don't care what you say, how you 
 feel, you must listen. I know this is true, I know 
 I am right love which is real, which will last, is 
 love like mine, ' young,' as you call it, mocking at 
 it for its youth that youth which gives it half its 
 wonder. For it is young love which loves, and never 
 counts the loving, or the giving, or the suffering; 
 other love, later love doesn't do that cannot. Later 
 love compares and contrives, and there is no head- 
 long divinity about it, either of passion or foolish- 
 ness ; it's just a sort of emotion that's often rather 
 furtive, and afraid to let go and uncertain if it will
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 289 
 
 last itself. As I love you, I should never loveagain ; 
 all love that comes after a love like this will be only 
 half real. All that is real, and true, and willing and 
 humble and proud in me beats in my love for you. 
 And you turn aside from it because it's young! 
 There's one thing " his voice held smothered bit- 
 terness " it's a fault I'll grow out of ! " 
 
 " Oh, why will you? oh, Rex, don't be so difficult, 
 so hard Eex, I'm so unhappy." 
 
 Kex's breath caught in his throat ; he was, at that 
 instant, very near to tears himself. 
 
 Then he stammered in a whisper : 
 
 " Oh, my darling, my Beautiful don't don't 
 I can't bear you to be unhappy ! " 
 
 He put his arms round her so gently they scarcely 
 touched her, and yet gave her the impression they 
 were a protection, just as he had meant they should. 
 
 Yet, in that chivalrously tender gesture he could 
 feel Doro trembling, and every atom of adoring 
 virility in him thrilled to that knowledge. 
 
 " But I am," Doro said like a child. 
 
 As if she had been a child he soothed her; he 
 made her tell him all her plans. 
 
 But he had his arms about her, and as they 
 spoke together, his clasp grew a little closer; his 
 face was near to hers in the soft gloom, that scent 
 of which he had spoken almost despairingly thrilled 
 him now with its sweetness. 
 
 " There isn't anything else to do, Rex," she told
 
 290 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 him despairingly. " I cannot go back to Hurstpoint, 
 and lone of course she does not want me." 
 
 " You could marry me," Rex said with fictitious 
 calmness, " and be free. 
 
 " I mean it," he added fixedly ; " I would give you 
 my word. I came here to-night on purpose to tell 
 you that; it was the real reason for my coming. 
 'Doro, will you do it? " 
 
 " No, and no," she said, breaking from him. " Do 
 you think do you suppose one forgets like that? " 
 
 He tried to regain the old trust, but it was im- 
 possible now. 
 
 In silence they walked to the house and bade 
 " good-bye." 
 
 Rex held Doro's hand against his heart. 
 
 "Always," he said, "like that. Do you under- 
 stand? And I shall never give you up. Good-bye."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 " What is the use of April what the use 
 
 Of her wild dreams, unless you bear your part? 
 The spring has let a thousand voices loose, 
 And shall not one find way into your heart? 
 
 GERALD GOULD. 
 
 IF Doro had longed for change of outlook, scene, 
 surroundings, mental atmosphere, she obtained 
 
 it. 
 
 She had told Cavini of Tony's .refusal to coun- 
 tenance her action in taking up a career, and the 
 obvious sequel Cavini had foreseen. 
 
 He had all the small Italian's commercial sense 
 and lack of discrimination with regard to hotels. 
 
 Later on, when Doro became famous ; ah ! then ! 
 But for now, when no one was famous, and fees 
 were still fond visions of a far future, why not a 
 pension ? 
 
 He therefore repaired with his wife and Doro to 
 one of those high houses in a meagre street in the 
 wrong quarter of Paris, and there Doro began to 
 train. 
 
 To say she was disillusioned would be to describe 
 the state of her feelings poorly she was both 
 crushed and infuriated by her surroundings, and 
 secretly disgusted. 
 
 291
 
 292 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 She had, even though she would have denied it 
 to herself, expected a certain glamour. She found 
 dust, and inefficient service, and cheap, greasy food 
 instead, and ceaseless, ceaseless work, and endless 
 chatter from Signora Cavini, who was none too 
 pleased with her husband, and who went in deadly 
 fear lest Doro should prove a failure. 
 
 Another thing: no longer was Doro the spoilt 
 and admired pupil. She was now Cavini's instru- 
 ment, upon which he meant to play his way to fame. 
 
 "My God! use your brain," he would storm. 
 " What are looks, a voice, even teaching such as 
 mine, if you sing a burial song like the chorus of a 
 Vaudeville refrain? Open your mouth, open your 
 mouth you are not drinking soup ! " 
 
 He, too, had his moments of doubt, and he took 
 them out on Doro. 
 
 No one wrote. 
 
 Then, by chance, she met David Shropshire in 
 the Rue de la Paix. 
 
 In a moment his hat was off, his round, good- 
 tempered face beaming down upon her. 
 
 " I say, what luck! Come and lunch? " 
 
 They went to the Cafe Parisien, and Doro had the 
 first good lunch she had eaten since she had left 
 London, also the cleanest. 
 
 Cavini had been peculiarly domineering that day. 
 It was cold; life seemed incredibly dreary; she 
 looked at David with eyes which saw him most 
 kindly.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 293 
 
 And she thought of Rex, who was David's type, 
 insomuch that both were lean, clean mortals, with 
 an air of pleasant distinction and very happy 
 manners. 
 
 In the old days she had thought David stupid. 
 Bex had never been that, never could be. To-day, 
 however, David's conservation had the agreeable- 
 ness of novelty after the Cavinis' outpourings of 
 complaints or mediocre gossip. He talked of the 
 life Doro had known so well. She wondered a little 
 shyly, and yet with real curiosity, if he would tell 
 her again he loved her. 
 
 He did not ; instead, outside, when he had hailed 
 a taxi for her, he said gaily : 
 
 " I suppose when the great night comes I'll be 
 admitted at the stage door, what? " 
 
 Doro made some laughing reply. Definitely, quite 
 surely she knew that in Shropshire's eyes she was 
 " different " now, and that he would no longer allow 
 himself to wish to marry her. 
 
 She did not know how she knew, but she did. As 
 it happened, she was quite right. 
 
 At Christmas Rex sent her a box of scarlet roses, 
 which filled the pension with perfume, and asked if 
 he might come to Paris. 
 
 She wired back, " No." 
 
 She spent the dullest half-year of her life, and 
 was actually glad when Cavini announced that they 
 would leave for his mother's home in Italy the 
 following week. His wife and mother were lifetime
 
 294 ALMOND-BLOSSOM^ 
 
 enemies, and Signora Cavini showed a definite re- 
 luctance to acquiesce in this plan, which swept the 
 pension like a tornado. 
 
 There was, however, deep method in Cavini's 
 madness. Averado, the impresario, was at his villa 
 convalescing, and that villa happened to be above 
 the modest dwelling of Cavini's parents on the hill- 
 side at Fiesole. 
 
 Cavini was a being subject to sudden attacks of 
 a spiritually gambling nature when he " believed " 
 a certain thing would happen because he had 
 thought of it suddenly, or had thought of it slowly ; 
 any reason did which served Cavini's end. 
 
 In this instance he told himself Averado would 
 hear Doro by chance, be enchanted, and offer to 
 place her. 
 
 With that luck which attends few human foolish- 
 nesses, almost this very thing happened. 
 
 Only Averado saw Doro before hearing her. 
 When he discovered the green-eyed vision to whom 
 he had blown surreptitious kisses was the owner of 
 the voice which roused his keenest commercial in- 
 stincts, he could scarcely believe his own good 
 fortune. 
 
 He forgot gain, caution, his health, and bore down 
 on the modest house of the Cavinis like a fat whirl- 
 wind. 
 
 Doro was in the studio alone, and he kissed her 
 at once, and thanked God she was alive. The 
 Cavinis entered on this scene, and for the next ten
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 295 
 
 minutes the place was a pandemonium, in which 
 Cavini smiled, Averado beamed, Signora Cavini and 
 old Cavini laughed and chatted together. 
 
 Doro, at a shouted command from Cavini, sang 
 a scale. Suddenly Averado embraced her again, and 
 this time she gently disengaged herself. He was 
 quite Italian in his culinary appreciation, as well 
 as his knowledge of music, and her own taste in 
 food had remained so far severely Anglo-French. 
 
 But the day was to be a gala, and it was cele- 
 brated accordingly; and all at once Doro found 
 herselMattered by everyone, feted, acclaimed. 
 
 It might have been a first night. She wished it 
 had been. 
 
 Thereafter she practised with Averado, and he 
 sent into Florence for the great Ortez to sing with 
 her. 
 
 In less than a week the tiny operatic world in 
 and about Florence had become Doro's setting, and 
 she, too, began to call everyone " carissima " ; she, 
 too, became accustomed to quick, meaningless em- 
 braces. At last the life began to claim her, and she 
 forgot to be unhappy within herself. 
 
 Averado discussed the future with Cavini. He 
 had not made a big fortune by altruism, nor by any 
 other unworldly methods, and his knowledge of 
 humanity was as great as his knowledge of music. 
 
 " Spain, Madrid," he said, waving his manicured 
 hand at Cavini, " the home-land the bird return- 
 ing to her nest. What a draw to a sentimental
 
 296 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 nation! The little Freddy must advertise for us; 
 the English have a sense of bringing anything to 
 the notice of a would-be buyer better than any other 
 nation. Only wait you will see ! " 
 
 Madrid did, at any rate, for that long-suffering 
 town was placarded with posters in the national 
 colours for weeks before Doro's appearance. She 
 was billed as " The new Diva," under the name of 
 Dolores, and her connexion with the English aris- 
 tocracy was not allowed to be ignored. 
 
 Of course she was to sing " Carmen," and when 
 she asked why " of course? " Averado laughed fatly. 
 
 "All things are vanity," he answered reassur- 
 ingly. " To be popular is better than to be eclectic ; 
 only the conceited and very wealthy can afford to 
 be that, the former because it does not matter what 
 such are, the latter because it does not matter either 
 in a different way ! But to please, you must possess 
 the desire for l universal oneness,' though not quite 
 in the sense our priests mean ! " 
 
 He introduced Doro to the great Eachel Dure, 
 who extended to Doro first that gracious patronage 
 an artist is able to give to a beginner in a different 
 art, and later a very real affection. 
 
 La divine Rachel at forty-five was no mean in- 
 structress of life ; all that had colour, vividness, fire, 
 any expression which counted, she had drawn 
 towards herself. 
 
 She was beautifully plain, a belle laide of great
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 297 
 
 dangerousness, of most passionate emotions and 
 subdued sensuality. 
 
 Rumour granted her countless lovers; she had 
 had but one, and he had died. 
 
 Of course the world did not believe in her faith- 
 fulness; indeed, few people can believe that an 
 intensely vivid emotionality can exist without 
 indulgence in headlong passion. Yet, paradoxically, 
 most often the one bars out the other, for some 
 emotionality springs, nine-tenths of it, from a keen 
 mentality, a mentality keyed up to perceive and 
 accept the beautiful things in life ; whereas passion 
 can be roused by almost any means, many un- 
 beautiful. 
 
 The highest form of emotion breeds keenest criti- 
 cism; passion never leaves time to judge well or 
 badly. Rachel " gave " the stage life to Doro, who 
 ceased to feel self-conscious at last, and began to 
 accept the new atmosphere with gaiety. 
 
 On their way through Paris Doro stayed at 
 Rachel's appartement; it was bizarre, lovely, ex- 
 travagant and neat all qualities possessed by 
 Rachel's personality. 
 
 There, modern Paris met and adored itself and 
 one another. 
 
 There, Rex came to see Doro. 
 
 Rachel claimed him at once; she liked his fair, 
 debonair good looks, his mind ; he was the one per- 
 son Doro found who treated neither of them as if 
 they were on the stage.
 
 298 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 She remembered David Shropshire had not done, 
 that. 
 
 Tony, it seemed, never spoke of her ; G often. 
 
 " Ah, because you do ! " Doro said, with rather 
 sad clearness of vision. 
 
 She studied Rex as one does when suddenly an 
 old friend is much admired by a new one ! 
 
 He made no least effort to talk of love to her 
 now. She half wondered, had he ever done so? It all 
 seemed so far off now,and ineffectual somehow. 
 
 On the last evening of Doro's stay (she was to 
 leave the next day for Madrid) he took her to dine 
 at Henry's ; they were to go on to fetch Rachel at 
 her theatre later. 
 
 " Shall we drive into the country? " Rex sug- 
 gested. " You won't be too cold? " 
 
 Already climatic conditions had become a matter 
 of great importance. 
 
 He only drove out beyond Armenonville in the 
 direction of Versailles. 
 
 Beside the wood he stopped the chauffeur. 
 
 " Let's smoke a cigarette here," he said to Doro. 
 
 They strolled down a little winding path; far 
 away, it seemed at a great distance, the trees joined 
 so often, the stars were shining. Rex lit a cigarette 
 for Doro; then when she had smoked it for a 
 moment took it from her gently. 
 
 Instinctively Doro knew. 
 
 " Do not spoil our happy time," she said shakenly. 
 To her surprise he gave a little low laugh.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 299 
 
 " Spoil it? Look at me, Doro." 
 
 It was a challenge. 
 
 She looked at him standing straight before her, 
 his face a pale blur in the dimness, but his eyes 
 ardent, visibly shining. 
 
 He took her hands lightly. 
 
 " So you do not love me yet? " 
 
 Doro met him in the same spirit. 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " There is someone else? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Thank God ! Then I still hope," he said always 
 in that odd, gaily controlled voice, which gave the 
 strangest effect of coldness and fervour mingled. 
 
 " We ought to go," Doro suggested. 
 
 " Not yet; a little longer, just a little." 
 
 He had not loosed her hands, but now he freed 
 one of his own, and deliberately drew her face to 
 his. 
 
 " You will in time," he whispered. He seemed to 
 be smiling. 
 
 Doro made no answer; she could not speak. A 
 shyness had seized her, which angered her by its 
 power. 
 
 " Kiss me," Rex's voice asked. 
 
 She shook her head, but her chin was still cupped 
 in his hand. 
 
 Then suddenly he kissed her. 
 
 She could feel all the smooth hardness of his
 
 300 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 young face and all the violent shakenness of his 
 young strength. 
 
 He released her gently, and said, panting be- 
 tween the words and yet in quite a tranquil voice : 
 
 " To remember me by ! " 
 
 They drove home talking of ordinary things. At 
 the theatre entrance Hex said very quietly : 
 
 " You will remember ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 " // once again before I die 
 
 I drank the laughter of her mouth 
 And quenched my fever utterly, 
 
 I say, and should it cost my youth, 
 'Twere well! for I no more should wait 
 Hammering midnight on the doors of fate." 
 
 TRUMBULL STICKNEY. 
 
 f{ T T is really true," Doro said. She looked medi- 
 tatively at herself in the glass. 
 She had arrived, definitely, surely. 
 
 All the drudgery was past, the tedious prepara- 
 tion finished ; the array of months, years. which had 
 gone to make this one night, the scheming and fore- 
 sight of Cavini and Averado, the pension life, the 
 practice practice practice. 
 
 Somehow it did not, any of it, success, or work, 
 or boredom, or excitement, seem to matter vitally 
 in this hour. 
 
 Life merely meant going on being Carmen, or 
 Mimi, or Giulietta, or Elsa, or any other heroine 
 whose type she was. 
 
 The lethargy of over-excitement descended on her 
 spirit like a pall. 
 
 She sat in the flood of light, gazing abstractedly 
 at herself and seeing that other life at Hurstpoint, 
 at Tone's . . . .and Pan. 
 
 301
 
 302 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Work had made her forget ; at least, it had done 
 its inevitable service it had dulled her memory. 
 
 How long ago, oh! how endlessly far away it 
 was now, and yet to-night, recalling that time, she 
 seemed to feel that ghost of a chill shudder of the 
 soul which is experienced when one knows some 
 hurt must come, which she had felt always there 
 when memory had gripped her mind as, physically, 
 one waits for the recurrence of a pain, and at the 
 first faint throb feels all one's body shrink away in 
 terror. 
 
 Still on her face there were the stains of Art ; her 
 eyes were lilac-circled, her lips encarmined. She 
 looked long at that face gazing so steadfastly into 
 her own. 
 
 All the heavy days were over surely and yet 
 
 At any rate, the morning held distraction and 
 flowers, and notes, and Press notices and interviews. 
 The Kitz was besieged, and Doro answered to the 
 call with a swing of the temperament which carried 
 her to the other extreme of the night's sadness. 
 
 Averado puffed with complacency. That remark 
 so dear to everyone of us, " I told you so," was his 
 to chant unceasingly; his urbanity was like a coat 
 of many colours, each more suave and silky than the 
 last, to each new-comer offering congratulations. 
 
 Telegrams came from Rex and Rachel, from 
 people she had known in town, and met last at 
 Tone's house, where their conversation had skilfully 
 avoided the actual mention of Pan's death, whilst
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 303 
 
 holding a note of challenge concerning Doro's 
 actual participation in the whole affair. 
 
 She had said then to lone : 
 
 " I wish you could be primitively natural to subtle 
 people who cleverly suggest you are either immoral, 
 a fool, or secretive ! But you can't. It would be so 
 absurdly melodramatic when you are insulted to 
 get up and say all you feel and leave the house 
 superbly! Simply, it isn't done; all that is left to 
 'you is to suggest that the oleanders are looking 
 well or ask your inquisitor if she has a cook still, 
 or some other vital life-question! And disliking 
 them virulently afterwards doesn't do them any 
 harm, or you any good, and that's so annoying too ! " 
 
 To-day, at any rate, she had no need to long to 
 answer anyone ; all the messages were unsubtle and 
 admiring. 
 
 Neither lone, G, nor Tony wrote, however, and as 
 Doro looked from the hotel window into the square 
 below, a dazzle of heat and vista of emptiness at the 
 siesta hour, the champagne sense of goldenness of 
 life seemed to have deserted her again. 
 
 Success had given her something, but not some- 
 body, and she minded dreadfully; she was really 
 lonely in her hour despite the clamour of praise and 
 eddying excitement. 
 
 She tried to talk it out with Averado, who, big 
 and coarse in so many ways, had a soul which held 
 no commonness, and who had prevented her by h;s
 
 304 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 protection from applying the French red and white 
 of stage life too literally. 
 
 He patted her hand gently. 
 
 "You are over-tired. Some divas try hysterics, 
 you grow cynical. You have the advantage. So 
 have I; it is hard work calming the nerves. For 
 you, there is only discussion needed. I know! And 
 what I do not know about women you could put in 
 a flea's hand." 
 
 " How dreadful for you ! " Doro said. 
 
 " No, not so. I like the learning. Nothing is so 
 absorbing as temperament to watch, to exploit, to 
 possess. Women who have not got it might as well 
 be corpses for all of me. By temperament I mean 
 the humour which has a cut in it, tears which can 
 touch the heart, emotion which has beauty, passion 
 which is headlong, splendidly heedless; discreet 
 voluptuousness in a woman is repugnant. No, tem- 
 perament is a gift of the gods, and it makes women 
 goddesses ! " 
 
 He patted Doro again. 
 
 " You have it sleeping ! " 
 
 " I think that it is dead, not sleeping," she said 
 with assumed tragicness, which sounded whimsical, 
 and added : " I hope so, anyway ! " 
 
 Averado burst out laughing. 
 
 " Dead ! Ah, how I should laugh later at myself 
 if I believed you, little one ! As well say the stars 
 die each night when they leave the sky. They 
 depart, but they reappear ! So will that ' sleeping '
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 305 
 
 temperament, when least you expect it, and again I 
 shall have that glorious pleasure, the intense enjoy- 
 ment of repeating, ' I told you so ! ' 
 
 " You are a dear, Averado ! " Doro told him 
 rather listlessly ; he looked almost awkward, but he 
 was delighted. 
 
 A vast section of the public firmly believe stage 
 managers and impresarios, anyone who holds a com- 
 manding position with regard to the commercial 
 side of Art, to be arch villains, and the generally 
 opulent appearance of these gentlemen rather adds 
 to the impression of vice. Averado bore out his 
 claim to this sad title in every detail : he was big, 
 florid, moustached, and diamonded; he wore coats 
 with rich fur collars, and a hat of such shine that 
 it cheered a rainy day; his bulk was great, his 
 clothes greater; he looked vulgar, easy -living, a 
 happy libertine, and whilst he was, in point of fact, 
 vulgar in some senses, he was, in every other, of 
 primitive outlook ; his humour might be broad, but 
 his personal morality was narrow. And he enjoyed 
 his reputation of a " dog " ; it was far better than 
 being one ; he led three distinct lives : his stage life, 
 in which he judged no one ; his home life, where he 
 possessed a husband's and father's privilege of judg- 
 ing everyone at the top of his voice ; and his private 
 life, in which he enjoyed his own mind. He was of 
 small bourgeois stock, and, therefore, a pleasant 
 snob, and the fact that Doro had belonged to the 
 family of a milord gave Averado a very agreeable
 
 306 . ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 interest in her, which again induced in him a far 
 more paternal consideration than was usually be- 
 stowed by him on his protegees. 
 
 Of course, it was said he was in love with her, but 
 it was always said he was in love with his latest 
 discovery; to the type of public mind which be- 
 lieved this sort of thing, no actress or singer could 
 be moral, and every manager must be a Don Juan. 
 
 " It is all so much more attractive for the box 
 office," Averado said comfortably. " Strange what 
 virtuous people will pay to look at anyone they 
 think gorgeously sinful, and yet refuse to add to 
 their church donation for the restoration of the 
 effigies of saints ! " 
 
 Doro was finding life strange in jother ways : she 
 was appreciating the vast difference a background, 
 lack of it, can make. 
 
 At home, in town, she had been Tony's daughter ; 
 here she was a singer who had been born in a cara- 
 van, or near one, and for the first time she encoun- 
 tered patronage. 
 
 Later, she parried or paralysed it ; at this time she 
 was too inexperienced to deal with it, too hampered 
 still by the tenets of the creed she had forsworn. 
 
 She discovered how " graded "artists can be, and 
 she divined that, no matter how feted and flattered 
 they may be, or how lavish their host's hospitality, 
 they are never entirely within the circle. 
 
 All her Hurstpoint outlook felt- aggrieved ; she 
 discovered herself to be nothing very much, and a
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 307 
 
 little of everything, and it distressed her until, bored 
 by herself, she suddenly dashed to the far extreme 
 and began to entertain as all the opera world did. 
 
 At a big supper party, given in her honour, she 
 met Savardi, and instantly liked him. 
 
 "Women always do," he said quite frankly; it 
 was not possible to call him conceited, he merely 
 acknowledged facts men and women hurled at him 
 unceasingly in open admiration. 
 
 The son of an English woman and a Spaniard, the 
 owner of a large private fortune, young, famous for 
 his sporting skill, of immense physical strength, and 
 an odd, arresting mentality, Savardi had had too 
 much of everything all his life. 
 
 Miraculously, it. had not spoilt him as it might 
 have done; he was too sure of himself, of course, 
 but he would have had to have been an archangel or 
 a nonentity to have withstood his fate. As he had 
 never tried to do so, naturally he found it a pleasant 
 one. 
 
 He was twenty-five when he met Doro, and there 
 was a rumour of a great match the Church and his 
 Jiouse were arranging for him. 
 
 He fell in love with Doro at once; he had done 
 it often before when a woman pleased him. He came 
 up to her at the head of the horseshoe table, and 
 with the very deftest mingling of politeness and 
 trickery got rid of her supper partner and seated 
 himself in his place. 
 
 Doro saw a big, young man, whose very black
 
 308 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 hair made his blue eyes seem very light between 
 their thick, short lashes, and whose mouth was 
 charming; he looked so strong that he reminded 
 her of Hercules. 
 
 He had perfect manners and spoke English fault- 
 lessly when he chose. 
 
 At the end of the supper he said tranquilly : 
 
 " You are the loveliest thing I have seen, and I 
 am going to have a tremendous affair with you. I 
 will call upon you to-morrow, if I may? " 
 
 He came, armed with green orchids which he 
 gravely put into vases himself, explaining to Doro 
 that servants had no flair in such matters. Then he 
 sat on a silken cushion at her feet and kissed her 
 hands almost reverently. 
 
 She felt unembarrassed and amused, and rather 
 liked Savardi. 
 
 He made her conspicuous at once by taking the 
 stage box for the season, and each night sending 
 orchids of the same green and golden variety to her 
 at the end of the opera. 
 
 Of course she encouraged him; only women of 
 very little emotion, who are admired by dull men, 
 fail to do so; your normal woman simply cannot 
 help encouraging a man even when, from the very 
 first, she is quite sure she does not and will never 
 love him. 
 
 It may be selfish, it may be cruel, but life is so 
 constituted that each of us takes the gift we are 
 offered; if we did not we should go through days
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 309 
 
 with about as much attractiveness in them as farm 
 interests provide for a town habitue". 
 
 By encouragement, one means not discourage- 
 ment; Doro accepted Savardi's orchids, laughed at 
 his wit, let him kiss her hands, and called him a 
 " dear thing " and " cher ami." 
 
 It had not occurred to her that Spanish men have 
 an iron control of themselves because they need it. 
 
 Savardi found her passionately engrossing; he 
 was quite mad about her, and attempted no disguise 
 of the fact ; his own people paid no attention to it : 
 naturally he must wander a little before settling 
 down. And, of course, his prospective bride's rela- 
 tives treated the affair in the same way ; all the men 
 had been similar, and many such experiences; 
 everyone expected it would cost Savardi a great 
 deal. 
 
 He was prepared to fling his fortune at Doro's 
 feet ; she drove him to the verge of frenzy ; he could 
 not understand her in the least. 
 
 She was this opera singer ; night after night she 
 appeared to a rapturous public, was one with the 
 life; and yet when she received him she was a 
 different being entirely, and talked with him in such 
 a way he could not talk with her in his way. 
 
 The strain of this plain living and high thinking 
 began to tell on him ; he became thinner and, as a 
 result, looked more attractive; he lost the "fine 
 animal " look ; it gave place to a certain rather 
 pathetic, eager ardentness.
 
 310 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 "You play with fire," Averado told her most 
 admiringly. No speculation in all his career had 
 paid him so well as the launching of Doro, and 
 Savardi's adoration was, to him, merely another 
 attraction for the box office ; he thought Doro quite 
 realized her r61e and Savardi's, wherein he was 
 wrong. To Doro, Savardi was merely what he was 
 a man in love with her, with whom she was not 
 in love ; of course, the affair would end as it must ; 
 for the moment it was rather exciting. . . . 
 
 Until Savardi came to her dressing-room between 
 the acts. 
 
 She thought he was pale and said so; his looks 
 had not suffered, but his air of supreme fitness was 
 less evident. 
 
 " I have a fever," he said slowly in English. 
 
 Doro's dresser slipped out ; it was a long entr'acte, 
 and she had been bribed beyond all reason. 
 
 Also, she considered la Senorita an extremely 
 lucky being, and Savardi was nearly as good as a 
 saint to the people : he was so rich and good looking 
 and powerful. 
 
 Doro had five visions of him in her winged mirror, 
 and she thought carelessly, for the n th time, what a 
 fine thing he was. He came forward and laid his 
 hands on her shoulders : 
 
 " Dolores, I love you." 
 
 His voice was so controlled, so chillily respectful, 
 that for the moment Doro felt actually amused; 
 then she looked up as she felt Savardi's long, per- 
 sistent gaze, and met his eyes; as she did so, the
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 311 
 
 pupils expanded, covering all the blue, and in that 
 instant she had a certain intuition that there was in 
 him a force which other men had not in any such 
 like measure: something which all the veneer of 
 modernity, its influence, could neither conceal nor 
 temper. 
 
 His hands pressed harder as he said : 
 
 " I love you as I love the saints." 
 
 This again did not sound frightening, though 
 Doro could not know Savardi had never yet loved 
 any human saint, nor ever would ; but, in his mind, 
 over-wrought, tired out by his love, frustrated 
 desire, the amazing uncertainty of the whole thing, 
 religion and passion, the two major forces in a man 
 of his upbringing, mingled inextricably. 
 
 He bent lower. 
 
 " Dolores." 
 
 His breath stirred her hair, and she shivered a 
 little. 
 
 " A-h-h ! " A long sigh escaped Savardi. " At 
 last!" 
 
 His hands slid lower and clasped her with an 
 effect of steel-like gentleness ; they touched her very 
 lightly, but she could not escape from them. 
 
 His voice, breaking with passion, reached her 
 only faintly. 
 
 " My heart, my soul, I love you you are like a 
 flower of God only love me, and I will keep you 
 blossoming on the altar of my love only love me. 
 Always you look so cold, so much as if you pos-
 
 312 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 sessed yourself. I cannot bear it any longer, I tell 
 you, I cannot." 
 
 And he bent and kissed her. 
 
 The youth, the romance, that strange inex- 
 tinguishable wish to love, which is in each of us and 
 leads so many of us to commit the foolishness of 
 our lives, were stirred by that kiss. Doro's lips did 
 not answer the kiss, but they received it, and every 
 lover dares to hope from that. 
 
 The moment died, Doro's will reasserted itself, 
 and she felt inconsequently angry and almost 
 humiliated. 
 
 She rose with a swift movement. Savardi's arms 
 went out to her ; his impassioned, wilful young face 
 implored her; even in this moment Doro recognized 
 his charm. 
 
 She said lamely, intensely conscious of the crass 
 ordinariness of her words : 
 
 "Please you must not I should not have let 
 you." 
 
 A flash of intensely resentful amazement passed 
 over Savardi's face. His blue eyes narrowed; he 
 looked a long look at her, then went slowly for- 
 ward, and as slowly put his arms about her. 
 
 It was useless to struggle, but Doro strained 
 away from him ; he drew her back inexorably, near 
 to him again. 
 
 A flood of Spanish words raced from his lips ; his 
 voice w^as pleading, stormy, adoring, masterful. At 
 the end he said in English, " You shall," and at that
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 313 
 
 moment he had never been more Spanish in his 
 heart, more pitiless, savage, and headlong. 
 
 He believed her scruples to be a pretence; he 
 would not believe, as he had told her in vitriolic 
 speech, that she could have seen him all these weeks, 
 allow him to visit her daily, to kiss her hands, fetch 
 her from the opera house in his car, and yet that he 
 meant nothing to her. 
 
 " You shall not" he said now, his face so white it 
 looked painted, his blue eyes blackly blazing, " also 
 you shall" 
 
 And then deliberately: 
 
 " You are no longer your own, you are mine," and 
 he kissed her again, holding her crushed up against 
 him. 
 
 Between his kisses he adored her with most beau- 
 tiful words, but Doro listened to none of them ; she 
 felt furiously humiliated with Savardi, and herself, 
 for the kisses stirred her and his magnetism thrilled 
 her, and she hated his dominion. 
 
 Then she realized he was no longer speaking of 
 love, but of Cordova, and she listened. She heard 
 him tell her they two would go to his villa at Cor- 
 dova "it is so lonely, so lovely, the nightingales 
 sing there so maddeningly, and the roses are like a 
 sea, and the orange blossom. . . . We will live there 
 you and I you and I " 
 
 His voice sank to a whisper; he pressed his face 
 against her hair, kissing it. 
 
 And clearly, most poignantly, and with bitter
 
 314 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 anger indeed, Doro realized he was not asking her to 
 marry him. 
 
 She did not love him, she knew that, but in that 
 instant she resolved that he should love her so 
 utterly he should sacrifice everything for her; she 
 would make him ask her to be his wife. She kissed 
 him suddenly. 
 
 As he drew back, half dazed by the new happi- 
 ness of it, she said : " Come to me to-morrow at the 
 hotel. Kiss me good night now." 
 
 He kissed her, amazedly, quite gently, and left 
 her. He believed his battle won, and already he had 
 lost it ! He went home feeling the world was a toy 
 w r hich was his to play with ; he was at Doro's hotel 
 by eleven, the green orchids in his hand, and, as 
 well, a chain of emeralds by which the most vir- 
 tuous woman must have felt tempted. 
 
 In the so clear light he was an attractive crea- 
 ture, so black of hair and lashes, so healthily 
 bronzed, and his charming mouth looked very 
 happy. 
 
 As Doro's maid closed the door, he took the floor 
 in a stride and swept her into his arms, and kissed 
 her for a full minute, then offered the orchids and 
 emeralds. 
 
 " Nothing could match the wonder of your eyes, 
 but perhaps you will accept these poor offerings? " 
 
 He drew her down on to the sofa, and kept one 
 arm about her. 
 
 " It must stay there, please ! " Every bit of me is
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 315 
 
 so afraid you may not be quite true that you may 
 vanish ! " 
 
 In time they reached the subject of Cordova. 
 
 " We will motor there," Savardi said gaily ; " it 
 will be divine, the road is bad, but quite lovely, 
 darling." 
 
 His voice grew lower, his eyes more ardent : 
 
 "Dolores, when?" 
 
 " At the end of the season," she said, smiling into 
 his eyes ; " it would be impossible earlier." 
 
 " Nothing is impossible," Savardi declared vehe- 
 mently, his wilfulness awakened instantly by the 
 merest suggestion of a power before which he must 
 give way. "Nonsense a contract? Oh! I will 
 settle Averado naturally. You shall sing the 
 Mignon, and then " 
 
 " Apres a le deluge ! " Doro murmured. 
 
 He gazed at her with deep reproach. 
 
 " One should not laugh at love, it spoils it a little 
 always." 
 
 Doro thought with cynicism, having grasped 
 exactly where she and Savardi stood in relation to 
 one another, that, for a man of his outlook, his other 
 views were rather paradoxical ! She did not in the 
 least understand that Savardi was merely quite 
 natural. He could not marry an opera singer ; that 
 she and he of course understood, but, Dios ! he could 
 love one, and did. 
 
 It was no question of morality at all, simply of 
 custom. 
 
 For a week, Doro let him come ; she accepted his
 
 316 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 gifts, which were quite exquisite; she took his 
 kisses, she let him adore her; then, since he still 
 did not make the obvious suggestion, she prepared 
 to hurt him. 
 
 Again, he was in her dressing-room ; he sat there 
 every evening now during the longer entr'actes. 
 Doro had been singing in Pagliacci, and stood be- 
 fore him in her ballet dress, tying a wreath of 
 leaves upon her head. 
 
 Savardi could stand it no longer; he sprang up, 
 and seized her in his arms. 
 
 " You are so beautiful, I cannot bear it," he said 
 in a choked voice. " I cannot explain, it makes me 
 feel helpless and fierce at once to look at you. This 
 
 cannot go on, Doro, to-night " His eyes sank 
 
 into hers. 
 
 "To-night," she echoed, "yes, what?" 
 
 His eyes fell, his lips smiled against hers. 
 
 "Jesus, Maria, and Jos6," he murmured boy- 
 ishly. " What does one say? " 
 
 What he might have said just then, for he was a 
 young man of no mean talent of speech, was lost 
 for all time, for the dresser rushed in fussily, ex- 
 claiming noisily and incoherently. Behind her Tony 
 entered. 
 
 He advanced upon Doro with a quiet, " Well, my 
 girl," and as she clung to him silently he surveyed 
 Savardi most directly. 
 
 Savardi murmured his name, and Tony supplied 
 his own. Savardi's eyes neither widened, nor closed 
 from stupefaction, and he kept his lips in a hard
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 317 
 
 line, but his brain reeled a little. No contretemps 
 could shake his self-possession; he made a young 
 man's adieu to an older man, and bowed over Doro's 
 hand, then he went out to his own despair. Here 
 was a complication which crushed even his passion- 
 ate optimism ; of course, he had heard Doro's history 
 very early in their acquaintance, and certainly the 
 Spanish part of it had confirmed him in his own 
 views, made his procedure indeed far easier. 
 
 He had believed and quite understood Doro's sev- 
 erance from her English friends ; she was tout court, 
 an opera singer, and as such meet to be loved as he 
 did love her and intended to continue to love her. 
 
 Lord Kexford's re-entry into her life changed 
 everything; he saw that with desperate clearness, 
 and also that Lord Kexford was (he had grasped 
 that fact instantly) the man of all men with whom 
 his suit, such as it had been, would stand least 
 chance. 
 
 He went to his father and mother, who were 
 peacefully in bed, and with vehement gestures, and 
 tears in his eyes, proclaimed his desperation. 
 
 After endless discussion, bitterest anger on both 
 sides, kisses of forgiveness, he did what he had 
 meant to do when he had first entered his parents' 
 room two hours earlier. 
 
 He wrote a formal offer of marriage for Doro's 
 hand to Tony, and added that he would do himself 
 the honour of waiting upon Lord Kexford the fol- 
 lowing morning at eleven.
 
 318 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 This letter he delivered at the hotel himself. 
 
 Tony had inquired about him almost at once . . . 
 that is to say, he had chosen a cigar, lit it, enjoyed 
 it for a few moments, and then asked. 
 
 "And who is Don Luis de Savardi? Which of 
 'em?" 
 
 " He's the only son." 
 
 " Wants to marry you, I suppose? " 
 
 Doro temporized. 
 
 " He is in love with me." 
 
 Tony nodded. 
 
 " Wants you to become his wife, of course. I don't 
 wonder." 
 
 He looked with unconcealed distaste at the dress- 
 ing-room ; indeed, he seemed strangely out of place 
 in it. He gave Doro no reason for his amazing 
 appearance, nor had she asked one : it was so won- 
 derful that he had come. 
 
 "You don't like it?" he said bluffly. "All this 
 smell, and the heat, and all that? You couldn't." 
 
 " But I do. I love it in a way." 
 
 " Good God ! " said Tony, not in the least pro- 
 fanely. 
 
 The idea seemed to stun him into silence for a 
 little while ; he sat smoking, his eyes roving, a hand 
 on either knee. 
 
 At last he said : 
 
 " Why don't you marry him? " 
 
 For one instant she thought he meant Rex, but 
 he went on blandly :
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 319 
 
 " Decent lookin' feller, sportsman an' all that, I 
 believe. Why don't you? " 
 
 Doro had a malicious desire to be perfectly frank 
 and say : " My dear, because he hasn't asked me, 
 and never means to, unless he is forced to do so by 
 my subtlety ! " But she could not hurt Tony in this 
 hour, when he had just come, when it was so won- 
 derful a thing he should have come. 
 
 " Don't let's talk about Savardi," she said swiftly. 
 " Tell me everything, everything, darling. How are 
 Eex, G, the horses, home? " 
 
 " Oh, all right," Tony answered. " G's been a bit 
 seedy, but then, hang it all, as Walters told her, 
 time flies ! Can't expect to race with the two-year- 
 olds for ever, y'know ! " 
 
 He jerked his head towards the theatre : 
 
 " I was in there all the time, listenin' to you." 
 His gaze grew keener. " I'd as soon hear you in the 
 drawing-room at home, Doro." 
 
 " Oh, my dear ! Tony darling don't you see? " 
 
 " We won't talk about it yet," Tony agreed with 
 that obvious magnanimity we use about a small 
 thing, in order to prepare the way for a real demand, 
 in the hope the listener may be lured into a readier 
 state of acceptance. " Early days to discuss affairs 
 yet, eh?" 
 
 A funny little grin, which had an element of both 
 bravado and sheepishness, deepened the lines round 
 his mouth, as he watched Doro making up. 
 
 " Things don't change much," he said.
 
 320 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 "On revient toujours?" Doro suggested, her 
 green eyes suddenly brilliant with amusement. 
 
 One of Tony's foibles was a pretended aversion 
 to any language save his own ("English is good 
 enough for me, and you can't find a place to-day, 
 don't care where it is, where someone won't under- 
 stand it ! " ) and now he merely stared ; but it was 
 evident that if he could not grasp each word, certain 
 sentiments curiously applicable to certain condi- 
 tions borne out by Doro's remark had filtered 
 through to his brain. 
 
 " Lot of flowers," he remarked. 
 
 " Oh, one is rather spoilt." 
 
 " I believe you, my dear. You'll spare this even- 
 ing to sup with me? " 
 
 " I'd break every engagement ever made to do it, 
 darling." 
 
 He was genuinely pleased ; he said bluffly, express- 
 ing his gratitude after his own manner: 
 
 " Of course, later one sees a thing differently." 
 
 Doro, perfectly accustomed to doing mental de- 1 
 tective work of high order in connexion with Tony's 
 conversation, grasped, after a moment's lightning 
 research, that this was the amende honorable for 
 having parted from her so bitterly. She went to 
 him and knelt before him, her tulle skirt billowing 
 out, and laid her hands on his knees ; she looked very j 
 young in that moment. 
 
 " Dear Tony," she said gently.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 321 
 
 Averado burst in at that moment, and burst out 
 laughing; he stood in the doorway rocking to and 
 fro, all his diamond studs palpitating like so many 
 miniature suns, his rings, glowing as he waved his 
 hands. 
 
 When he had really finished his laugh, he apolo- 
 gized for it as heartily in Italian. 
 
 Tony sat on, surveying him with a stare beside 
 which the salt-conversion look of fame would have 
 seemed an inane smile. 
 
 Averado's class and type to him were " people," 
 and nothing else, and his outraged gaze, after rest- 
 ing on Averado's somewhat unusual ornaments, 
 travelled to his face and stayed there implacably. 
 
 Doro nervously mentioned his name, and Averado 
 at once bowed from left to right. Tony was recover- 
 ing from this shock when Eizini, the contralto, 
 rushed in and embraced Doro ; she was an immense 
 woman, immensely corseted, and perfumed, and 
 uncovered. 
 
 Tony surveyed her with much the same repugnant 
 interest one bestows upon a mandrill or freak. 
 
 He rose, and muttering to Doro he would join her 
 later, went back to his seat. 
 
 Averado and Kizini had had their uses, however. 
 Tony felt a comfortable conviction that Doro could 
 not wish to live in such surroundings, and that his 
 plea to her to return might not fall upon such 
 unheeding ears.
 
 322 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He had found life unbearable without her; he 
 longed for her to be back ; or, failing that, he longed 
 for her to marry. The contemplation that she might 
 continue to lead this life was infinitely distressing 
 to him. 
 
 Rex and G and he seemed sometimes to be like 
 dim marionettes jerking in time to a scheduled 
 existence: there was no life in them. Kex was in 
 town a great deal, and then G and he faced one 
 another in the silence. 
 
 After a peculiarly bad week of that existence he 
 had risen and said abruptly: 
 
 " I am going to Madrid." 
 
 G had replied " Good ! " and he had caught the 
 early boat train. 
 
 He had felt extraordinary when he had stepped 
 out at the frontier; for an instant the years had 
 seemed to fall away, and he was back in the olden 
 golden days, giving Francesca's maid directions, 
 arguing about the car ; there were the same customs 
 officers, clad in opera bouffe style, and the same 
 military policemen in their absurd high hats; the 
 same women with nasal voices, walking up and 
 down offering croisson sandwiches and bowls of 
 coffee and apricots. 
 
 Nothing had moved him so much as that revival 
 of memory, or brought Doro so near; he had once 
 carried her in his arms across this very line. . . . 
 
 Even the dusty heat of Madrid, where the noise 
 of the trams seemed to penetrate even to his room
 
 'ALMOND-BLOSSOM 323 
 
 in the august hotel, the absence of all that which he 
 considered alone made life bearable, could not drive 
 that feeling of tenderness from his heart. 
 
 He dined early and went straight to the opera 
 house and sat well back in his loge. 
 
 The burst of wild applause when Doro appeared 
 had shaken him a little, but reconciled him not at 
 all; the stage was not meant for the right sort of 
 woman, anyone could see that, in Tony's opinion; 
 he only marvelled that Doro had not already done 
 so. 
 
 His prolonged inspection of her dressing-room, 
 its smallness, heat, excessive light, the photographs 
 all signed " Yours ever," and inscribed to " Do- 
 lores Darling " the idiotic mascots of black cats, 
 heather horseshoes, old nails, and other equally 
 incomprehensible and valueless trifles, the "clut- 
 ter " of things everywhere, and the perfume of 
 grease paint and strongly-scented flowers and 
 Doro's beloved jasmine, had all combined to make 
 Tony feel no human being could live in such an 
 atmosphere and like it. 
 
 He went to the Casino restaurant and ordered 
 \ the best supper he could devise, and sat outside the 
 [ stage door in his hired car patiently waiting. 
 
 Doro flashed out to him in a cloak which had a 
 wonderful green lining where silver birds sang 
 ceaseless strains. She, too, was excited; she, too, 
 had been roused by tender memories; and then, 
 Tony's appearance, his claim to her, had given her
 
 324 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 back that sense of belonging rightly; she tried to 
 be amused by her own outlook, but it was a little 
 difficult ; finally she decided : " It isn't that I mind 
 other people not being up to standard, it's that I 
 do hate they're not wishing to recognize that I 
 am!" 
 
 Yet when Tony pleaded, quite eloquently for him, 
 that she should " chuck it all " and come home, the 
 lure of her new life seemed to grow in strength and 
 fascination; she could not give it up; she knew it 
 quite suddenly; simply she could not. She adored 
 the applause, the outward and visible sign of her 
 value ; her power was a never-ceasing joy to her. 
 
 She evaded a direct answer, and Tony thought: 
 
 " Give her her head " ; it was his modus operand* 
 with any troublesome plunger. 
 
 Savardi's note pleased him ; he awaited that con- 
 queror's coming with interest. 
 
 Upon closer inspection, he decided Savardi 
 pleased him mightily; he was a young man after 
 his own heart ; he detected no subtlety in him ; Jte 
 saw only a well-built youth who ardently wished to 
 marry Doro; who possessed a name, an income, and 
 could undoubtedly ride and shoot, and would be 
 a great help to him in both those vital matters. 
 
 Savardi thought to himself : 
 
 "He will suspect nothing; he is comfortably 
 stupid. Thank God he came early enough ! " 
 
 He had passed a hideous night, cursing himself
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 325 
 
 his bad start. Kexford cheered and encouraged, 
 him. 
 
 There remained Doro. 
 
 " She's lunching here," Tony volunteered; " stay, 
 too." 
 
 Doro entered, looking less like a prima donna 
 than any woman could do; she was in white, and 
 was wearing a white straw hat and no jewels, save 
 Tony's string of pearls. 
 
 " Well, my dear," Tony said, kissing her, " here's 
 a visitor for you." 
 
 Doro lifted her lashes at Savardi, and his heart 
 raced. 
 
 He went very pale. 
 
 When Tony had strolled off to " get some cigars," 
 he paled further; he looked all black and white 
 pride and obstinacy. 
 
 He knelt before Doro suddenly. 
 
 "To-day I have asked Lord Rexford for your 
 
 hand in marriage Doro " He stopped because, 
 
 literally, he dared not speak, but he kept his eyes 
 fixed on her ; she saw his lips trembling, 
 
 And, unexpectedly, she felt sorry for him; she 
 had meant this to be a moment of triumph, and 
 suddenly the wish deserted her. 
 
 Savardi whispered almost inaudibly : 
 
 " Mother of Christ, how I adore you ! " 
 
 It might have been a prayer, but Doro knew it 
 was not, and oddly, in that moment, Savardi 
 seemed very boyish and appealing.
 
 326 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Perhaps he saw the softening in her eyes; he 
 leant nearer and slid an arm about her very gently, 
 and then, like a tempest breaking from clear skies, 
 he kissed her with such passion that she felt as if 
 she must faint. 
 
 The kiss grew less dominant, the breath struggled 
 in her throat. 
 
 " My answer, my answer," she heard Savardi say- 
 ing, and his voice was as shaken as if he had been 
 running ; " open your eyes, my darling dear ! " and 
 there followed a torrent of adoring Spanish. 
 
 And his voice so eager, so full of worship- 
 stirred her, she could not help it. It was so sweet 
 to be loved again, even if she did not love and to 
 have won conquest is such balm to any hurt and 
 
 Savardi And she had been lonely, too, after 
 
 all 
 
 " My Beautiful, mine, mine, mine," Savardi stam- 
 mered, and suddenly leant his face down on their 
 : hands clasped together. 
 
 And, somehow, it became impossible to say " No," 
 though she knew that only the wonder of the 
 'moment held her: Savardi's demanding, splendid, 
 insistent youth. 
 
 He lifted his head and smiled at her and said, 
 /with that swift swerve of mood which has its own 
 .attraction : 
 
 " I had no idea one could wish to be married until 
 you came."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 327 
 
 Doro looked into his blue eyes between their thick 
 lashes. 
 
 "You have relatives in the Church, the Diplo- 
 matic?" she asked him gravely. 
 
 " But, of course." 
 
 His eyes did not drop ... his outlook had been 
 so far removed from hers that he entirely failed to 
 appreciate the fact any rebuke had been intended. 
 
 He knelt up now and took Doro wholly in his 
 arms and kissed her, as she told him later, breath- 
 lessly : " Eather too Spanishy." 
 
 He laughed into her eyes : 
 
 " I will kiss you d I* Anglais! " 
 
 And he touched her cheek chillily with his lips. 
 
 "Like that!" 
 
 He stayed to lunch, he stayed to tea; Doro and 
 Tony were to dine with him on the morrow in his 
 home. Neither Doro nor Tony had realized what a 
 Spanish engagement can mean ; they were initiated 
 into its first mysteries during the ensuing week. 
 
 Savardi, however, Tony liked better and better. 
 No lover, be it known, is so circumspect, so chival- 
 rous, so definitely " correct," as your Spaniard, and 
 all that the unsuspecting Tony found entirely right 
 and pleasing. 
 
 He was aware, though neither Savardi nor he had 
 really discussed the matter, that, upon her mar- 
 riage, Doro would have to give up her opera life. 
 In Tony's and Savardi's opinion those events would
 
 328 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 follow one another in true Shakespearean manner, 
 " as the night the day." 
 
 If Savardi had any doubts on this matter, he said 
 nothing of them. 
 
 He paid Doro assiduous court; he kept her in a 
 whirl of life which seemed all sweetness, adoration, 
 adulation, lovely gifts. She was feted by everyone ; 
 Rexford's presence had given her new prestige. 
 
 Savardi and he accompanied her everywhere, and 
 her progress in public places might have been that 
 of royalty, for the interest it excited. 
 
 Doro did not thin!:, would not let herself think ; 
 deliberately, as it is perfectly possible for any 
 woman to do, she let herself be swayed by Savardi's 
 insatiable youth and love; her life for the last two 
 years had been desolate in her heart ; Savardi had 
 forced a way in, and if he had not lighted the lamps 
 on that altar, those from his heart flung a far 
 reflection on to hers. 
 
 Women have married for less! Doro, at least, 
 loved the gaiety and quickness of him, his intense 
 virility, as women generally do love precisely those 
 qualities because they stir their pulses, and, at any 
 rate, move life from its ordinary rut. 
 
 Secretly, Doro fully intended continuing her 
 career; she foresaw the struggle, and she ardently 
 hoped it would take place before her marriage; 
 struggles after were apt to be half and half victories 
 on either side, she had noticed. 
 
 A remark of Savardi's made late one night when
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 329 
 
 lie was endeavouring to kiss her good night, a feat 
 which seemed likely to be accomplished towards 
 early morning, awoke her from her trance-like 
 %aisser-aller frame of mind. He was sitting on the 
 sofa holding her in his arms and kissing her quite 
 jgently, and he said, his lips against her hair : 
 
 " Dios! Life is very hard, difficult. I wish that 
 I might shut you up for ever, so that no one might 
 gaze upon your beauty but myself." 
 
 He was quite serious; his blue eyes burnt with 
 longing. 
 
 " I should stifle, my soul would, leading a life like 
 that," Doro said. 
 
 He put a cool hand upon her throat. 
 
 " But we should belong so all of you would be 
 mine " 
 
 " Ah, we should belong . . . ? " 
 
 Remembering, she felt a chill of dread ; the 
 struggle no longer loomed, partly worrying, partly 
 amusing ; it would be a thing of deadly seriousness. 
 
 It was useless to look to Tony for any help; she 
 iknew his views. 
 
 There remained : to break her engagement. 
 
 Averado broached the question to her; he had 
 (contracts with her which had still five years to run. 
 
 " Of course I shall fulfil them," Doro told him. 
 "But naturally!" 
 
 Averado was enchanted to hear it, also amazed; 
 but the latter emotion he hid, nor did he mention^ 
 to Doro that Lord Eexford had asked him, much as
 
 330 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 an enemy offers armistice, what price he required 
 to break those contracts. 
 
 The last week of the season dawned in a blaze of 
 heat, and bull-fights, and festas of every descrip- 
 tion, and with it there dawned Hex, quite cool, as 
 languid as ever, and self-possessed. 
 
 He certainly made a foil for Savardi with his 
 fairness and languor, his low, always, it seemed, 
 slightly amused, voice, and utter lack of gesture. 
 
 " So it is true? " he asked Doro. 
 
 He studied her. 
 
 " And you are as happy as you want to be? " 
 
 " Is anyone ever that? " she asked him a little 
 sadly. She wished Hex had not come ; somehow his 
 coming seemed a reproach, and yet there was noth- 
 ing about which she need feel self-reproach. 
 
 Savardi and he were polite to one another. 
 Savardi divined all he would never know, and his 
 divination gave him little peace where Rex was 
 concerned. 
 
 And Rex appropriated Doro so calmly; he was 
 always in her dressing-room, at the hotel, driving 
 her, riding with her. 
 
 Savardi neither liked nor understood his type ; to 
 him it appeared bloodless and self -sufficient ; Rex 
 had none of his tastes and few of his views and yet 
 seemed to have lived a great deal, and certainly he 
 was no fool. 
 
 Again, Rex's friendships were extraordinary; he 
 appeared actually to like the robust and pushing
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 331 
 
 Averado, who treated him, Savardi noticed, with 
 no effusion, and yet would do things for him he 
 would never do for other men, Savardi included. 
 
 Only Savardi's sister, Renee, raved about him 
 and his fairness, and his smile, and his voice. 
 
 Doro suspected Eex of a ridicule he did not show. 
 She taxed him with it, and he denied it with a little 
 smile. 
 
 " Do you like Savardi? " Doro asked him. 
 
 He met her gaze levelly. 
 
 " Of course, I am consumed with jealousy of him ; 
 I think he's a sportsman, and his manners are de- 
 lightful, but one appreciates the mixture of sav- 
 agery and haute finesse which distinguishes him ! " 
 
 Savardi and he went to the big bull-fight, to 
 Doro's amazement and disgust. 
 
 He was in Tony's sitting-room when she went 
 there to seek Tony. 
 
 " You are back? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes. Savardi was entertaining a crowd, but I 
 preferred to come home." 
 
 " Did you like it the fight? " 
 
 No, I loathed it." 
 
 " Why did you go, then? " 
 
 She was genuinely surprised. 
 
 Rex opened his eyes they had been closed (he 
 was lying full length on a sofa, his hands clasped 
 behind his head) and said: 
 
 " Savardi asked me, hoping I would refuse. So I 
 went."
 
 332 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " But why? It sounds so absurd." 
 
 " Oh, he understands quite well." 
 
 A storm was coming up ; the sky was livid orange 
 flecked with purple clouds, the trees shivered. 
 
 " How still it is ! " Doro said. 
 
 " Yes, the hush before a tempest : forced calm is 
 always a portent." 
 
 He looked at her fixedly. 
 
 " Doro? " 
 
 " Yes? " 
 
 " When is your marriage? " 
 
 " Heaven knows ! " 
 
 " It may, possibly does ; but will that fact content 
 Savardi? It would not me does not, in point of 
 sordid fact; there are such things as trains and 
 boats, y'know, in connexion with a return trip." 
 
 " You are going back? " Doro asked obviously. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Kex," that curiosity a woman never quite loses 
 with regard to a man she knows has loved her made 
 her question him, even while she realized her un- 
 wisdom and perhaps lack of kindness. " Kex, why 
 did you come? " 
 
 " The better to see you, my dear ! " he said, smil- 
 ing a little. 
 
 " Ah just just that? " Her voice sounded flat 
 with disappointment. 
 
 "I wanted to see what kind of a man Savardi 
 was, if he'd take care of you." 
 
 " And you think he will you approve? "
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 333 
 
 "He's a decent being with very obvious limita- 
 tions, and they are better than subtle, hidden ones." 
 
 A smile quivered on Doro's lips. She thought of 
 Savardi's first attempt to win her: was he so un- 
 subtle? 
 
 And what would Bex have said had he known? 
 She felt glad he never would. 
 
 Bex asked suddenly: 
 
 " Do you intend to go on singing after your mar- 
 riage? One imagines not: it's rather difficult to 
 imagine Excelentisima giving full vent to Delila's 
 passion-broken cry ! " 
 
 Doro went across to the sofa and stood beside it, 
 and looked down at Bex. 
 
 " Bex, what shall I do? I don't want to give up 
 my career." 
 
 " No, I know ; but I fear you will have to. The 
 fact you do not wish to will alter very little." 
 
 She felt hurt by his impersonal tone of lightness, 
 and chose to retaliate. 
 
 " Savardi adores me," she said. 
 
 " In his way," Bex answered very quietly ; " but 
 unluckily, loving you his way will not give you 
 yours. It never does. One has to love a person more 
 than oneself to be able to do that. However," he 
 sat up and drew out his cigarette-case, " you can 
 give up your way." 
 
 Doro turned and sat down on the sofa close to 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, Bex," she said helplessly.
 
 334 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He rose and walked to the window, and lit his 
 cigarette there. 
 
 Doro looked at him silhouetted against the dan- 
 gerous glow of the sky ; his profile stood out with a 
 sort of hard determination, and suddenly it occurred 
 to her that virility is not always super-evident, it 
 might exist under self-repression, and exist the 
 more intensely therefore. 
 
 The excitement which a coming storm always 
 can induce awoke in her: Eex was too self -con- 
 trolled, his aloofness made her resentful. He had 
 not always been so very still and repressed, and 
 "apart"! 
 
 If he had not come, life really would have been 
 easier; his coming had not made her love Savardi 
 more, exerted the influence the return of one old 
 lover can exert ; Rex had simply formed a contrast, 
 and her mood was too variable to desire any further 
 agitation. 
 
 Savardi came in, and saw Bex first ; his blue eyes 
 glittered. 
 
 Then he kissed Doro and talked with her in the 
 tone young men like to use to their womenkind, a 
 tone of voice which, if it had been addressed to 
 children, might be described as soothing, and as 
 addressed to a woman deserves the adjective " soft " 
 in its least polite sense. 
 
 Rex continued to stare out of the window at the 
 darkening street, the low bending trees, and lifting 
 awnings ; the air felt as if there were no wind, and
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 335 
 
 yet all things moved in a frightened, hurried way. 
 
 Savardi " wished to God " in his own mind that 
 Kex would go, and continued to murmur to Doro. 
 He was intensely wrought up, the bull-fight had lit 
 its usual excitement in him; much excellent cham- 
 pagne had not tended to lessen that effect. 
 
 He wanted to kiss and kiss Doro, but this man 
 stood there in priest-like inactivity 
 
 "You liked the fight, Senor Greville? " he in- 
 quired suddenly, 
 
 " Oh yes, thanks." 
 
 " You approve of our sport, then? " 
 
 " But why not, Don Luis? " 
 
 Nothing to be gained that way. 
 
 The hour dragged ; at last Savardi left, just before 
 the storm broke. 
 
 " I cannot drive to the opera house in this," Doro 
 said, watching the hailstones beat the street. " It 
 would be impossible. Heavens, Kex, what an irri- 
 tating thing life is ! " 
 
 As he still did not speak, she said, a little ner- 
 vously, laughingly: 
 
 " I think I want to be comforted." 
 
 The words took them back to Hurstpoint, to the 
 old life. 
 
 " Kex, I'm so uncertain. . . . " 
 
 She longed for him to question her; he said 
 levelly : 
 
 " You are engaged, y'know. No one forces that 
 sort of thing on one."
 
 336 ALMOND-'BLOSSOM 
 
 " Circumstances do ! " Doro answered sombrely. 
 
 He would not look at her ; his steady eyes gazed 
 reflectively at the sodden road. 
 
 Suddenly Doro demanded : 
 
 " What did G think of my engagement? " 
 
 " Oh, she hoped you'd be happy, and so on, and 
 so forth ! " 
 
 He smiled at her. 
 
 " G was quite as she should have been ! " 
 
 He spoke with a double truth, one half which was 
 heard only personally, for G had " taken it well " 
 for both Doro and himself. 
 
 She had not questioned Doro's choice; she had 
 certainly wished her every happiness, and she had 
 clasped Rex's head between her fine withered hands 
 and drawn it down on to her shoulder; if he had 
 felt, reading the letter of announcement, that all 
 the glow and romance of life was ended, she had felt 
 for him, through him, as if life had ceased to have 
 any value. 
 
 If his love for Doro had been of the stocky, 
 " used " kind, the kind which may begin in earliest 
 youth and settle down, from lack of ambition on 
 the part of the lover, to a state of well-wishing, 
 well-being, placidity, she would hav^ been sorry for 
 his disappointment, but not broken by it at all. 
 But she knew that some men are so constituted that 
 one love may fill their lives to the exclusion of all 
 else, and that by the possession of the woman they 
 love alone will they attain happiness.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 337 
 
 Bex had been no anchorite, but he had never 
 'spoken of any woman with love save Doro. G knew 
 him through and through, knew his passion for 
 Beauty, the subtlety of his mind, his deadly ob- 
 (stinacy. These three things had all fused in his 
 love for Doro. 
 
 " I will have the best or nothing," he had once told 
 'G doggedly. 
 
 It had been she who had advised him to go to 
 t Madrid; he had meant to go, she divined, and she 
 had made the way as easy for him as she could; 
 now he was there, and that was all that could.be 
 said. 
 
 Doro's engagement endured, he would make no 
 appeal. He recognized Savardi's defects and vir- 
 tues, and knew him to be as much in love as his 
 nature would allow him to be with one woman at 
 one time. He saw Doro did not love him, and yet 
 would marry him, unless someone deliberately 
 stopped her. He realized with austere clarity that 
 he should return to England ; he approved Savardi's 
 dislike of himself, and despised himself for exploit- 
 ing it. 
 
 This evening he knew he must not stay ; if Doro 
 did not love Savardi, neither did she love him, and 
 Ms presence confused her power of concentration. 
 
 He said : 
 
 " I am going back to-morrow, my dear. In this 
 weather I prefer Hurstpoint."
 
 338 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 "You are going to-morrow?" Doro said. Her 
 heart sank. " Oh, why? " 
 
 " Lots of reasons ; chiefly, I want to ! " 
 
 The room was nearly in darkness ; they could see 
 one another's faces in a pale blur. 
 
 " Don't go," Doro said ; she crossed to him and 
 laid her hand on his arm. " It's it's been so so 
 splendid having you. Savardi " 
 
 " Doesn't like me, but is nice about me is that 
 what you are going to say? " he interpolated. 
 
 " He does like you." 
 
 " My dear, he does not, nor I him." 
 
 " How absurd! And anyway, if it is so, why? " 
 
 Eex wondered if women were deliberately cruel, 
 or merely nervously so ; he felt a hard inclination to 
 take Doro's hand tightly in his own and crush it 
 into his and tell her : " Because we both love you, 
 because he suspects I do, and I know he does; be- 
 cause I hate to see him touch you, hate to think of 
 the hours he can kiss you ; hate him for being first 
 when it is not my fault I am not, and just chance, 
 luck call it what you will. And I hate him because 
 it makes me dishonourable to myself." 
 
 Instead, he said : 
 
 " Simply, we don't hit it. Although we are both 
 rather nice people in our different way ! " 
 
 He clung to any form of humour, went on talking 
 in the same vein to escape the tension he felt 
 threatened.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 339 
 
 Never since he had come to Madrid had he felt 
 so utterly stirred as he felt now; never had Doro 
 striven so to reach him. The storm was sweeping 
 his nerves, too : the room grew even darker ; he knew 
 if he did not go that he would later not forgive him- 
 self. He longed with a parched sensation of driven, 
 longing to break down the frail barrier between 
 himself and Doro, and implore her to free herself. 
 He longed to tell her of the sleepless nights and 
 weary days he had lived through for love of her. 1 
 Just this quiet intimacy was a danger in itself. 
 
 He made himself say nonchalantly : 
 
 " I must be off, my dear. I'll come round in the 
 morning, if I may, to say good-bye." 
 
 He did not attempt to take her hand ; he reached' 
 the door and switched on the light, and looked back' 
 at her. 
 
 " Au 'voir, then." 
 
 He closed the door, and stood alone in the vast 
 corridor; that deadly ache born of the knowledge 1 
 of chance foregone, a meeting he had longed to last,l 
 ended, seized on him. 
 
 He asked himself the questions one does ask 
 futilely: 
 
 Why had he not stayed just a little longer? Whyj 
 had he been so unnecessarily offhand he had not 
 wished to go in reality, and with every thought and 
 instinct he longed to return to Doro. 
 
 The dimly-lit corridor looked like the dreary
 
 340 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 entrance to any place of repentance ; it was stamped 
 with unoriginal neatness and worth. 
 
 How banal, to leave all your heart's happiness in 
 such a hotel to part from everything which made 
 life beautiful in one of those over-furnished, garish 
 little rooms. 
 
 Rex realized the power to hurt which, speaking 
 ordinarily, things can possess. 
 
 He walked away and down the wide, thickly 
 carpeted steps. 
 
 Outside it had stopped raining for a little while, 
 but the sky hung low like a dark menacing wave 
 about to break. 
 
 Lightning cut into it with streaks of silver fire; 
 no thunder followed, but the air seemed to suffocate 
 itself, it was so dense, so heavy. 
 
 Eex walked out and crossed the square, an acacia 
 tree in front of him suddenly bowed, as if a violent 
 hand had pulled it downwards, and at the same 
 moment a second storm burst. 
 
 He ran, still limping a little, to the first shelter 
 he saw, a faintly lighted oblong. 
 
 He pushed blindly at it, and found a half-opened 
 door, and slipped in. Voices sounded indistinctly; 
 someone laughed, a man ; someone sang. 
 
 Eex, his eyes becoming used to the dim light, dis- 
 covered that he must be in the private entrance to 
 the Caf 6 du Nord ; dimly, he could hear a band ; he 
 seemed to remember the location too. 
 
 The rain fell in a deluge ; he decided to stay where
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 341 
 
 he was, and walked forward and sat dcwn on the 
 linoleum-covered stairs. 
 
 The room on the top landing was obviously occu- 
 pied by rather happy revellers. 
 
 Bursts of song were interrupted by roars of laugh- 
 ter. Eex remembered the bull-fight, and understood 
 this otherwise unnaturally early celebration. 
 
 He lit a cigarette: it seemed extraordinary that 
 to-morrow at this time he would already be so far 
 away; it seemed extraordinary simply because he 
 would be acting directly against his wishes, even 
 his will. 
 
 He had never loved Doro as he loved her now, 
 now that he and she had both savoured life apart ; 
 her " newness " at this reunion had been an added 
 delight ; it had seemed to give her an added charm, 
 or perhaps to make all the other qualities he so 
 loved in her more wonderful. 
 
 He tried to think what he would do with life, how 
 he should pass the time which loomed so menacingly 
 before him now. 
 
 Time became an enemy with every advantage, 
 when you loved and were not loved again ; one might 
 struggle, deny, pursue one's interests vehemently, 
 one did not escape. 
 
 He supposed he would go back to London and 
 stay there and read of Dolores in the papers and 
 hate Savardi as much as ever. 
 
 For, deep down, he hated him, and though the 
 origin of his motive was obscure, he knew it resulted 
 in contempt.
 
 342 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He despised him for some quality he could not 
 place in him, but at the same time he felt he was 
 never wholly just to Savardi because of his jealousy. 
 
 And at that moment, oddly, he heard Savardi's 
 voice. He was shouting a name, Doro's. 
 
 Hex flushed in the dusk. " Young cub ! He is 
 drunk, of course ! " 
 
 Another voice shouted clearly: 
 
 " To the marriage day ! " 
 
 Apparently there was a vast filling of glasses. 
 
 Kex rose and prepared to leave; he had reached 
 the door when another voice, young, rather thick, 
 reached him easily: 
 
 " Never meant to marry the fair Dolores only 
 her father insisted " 
 
 Oaths, shouts, laughter, expostulations broke out. 
 Kex, strung up by the day's demand, took the 
 stairs in a couple of strides and opened the door 
 of the room. 
 
 Savardi and a youth were struggling together. 
 Half a dozen other young men were cursing and 
 laughing, and endeavouring to separate the com- 
 batants. As Eex entered, the youth broke free ; his 
 face was bleeding where Savardi had struck him. 
 
 He spat out venomously : 
 
 " It is the truth. All our family knows it is the 
 truth; all Madrid knew Luis would not marry an 
 opera singer! He had arranged to take her to his 
 villa at Cordova; my father saw the settlements, 
 then this Lord Kexf ord appeared ..."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 343 
 
 His friends had been restraining Savardi; now 
 one whispered Bex's name, and Savardi spun round, 
 and they faced one another. 
 
 Into Bex's mind, rocking in a very tempest of 
 white rage, the thought slid, like a sliver of ice: 
 " Now I know why I distrusted him." 
 
 He walked across the floor and stood within a 
 foot of Savardi; they were of even height, their 
 eyes met levelly. 
 
 For a moment neither moved; then Bex, lifting 
 his hand, struck Savardi lightly in the face, smiled 
 at him faintly, and drew back. 
 
 Savardi laughed in his throat; his friend, Miguel 
 Martinez, stepped forward, bowed to Bex, and prof- 
 fered a card; he began a set speech in Spanish. 
 
 Bex took the card, tore it in two, and, still staring 
 at Savardi's chill white face and burning eyes, 
 struck him again, lightly, as before. 
 
 Savardi closed with him, and he had the soul- 
 satisfying feeling of having his enemy at grips at 
 last; the elan which succeeds rage possessed him, 
 he was lifted entirely above his earlier mood, and 
 felt an amazing lightness. Neither man spoke, and 
 there was silence in the close, crowded room. 
 Savardi nearly swung Bex clear once, but a moment 
 later Bex deliberately thrust Savardi off his feet, 
 and by sheer appalling effort beat him to the floor. 
 
 As he did so, he felt his weak side stabbed by a 
 hideous pain ; a haze floated before him, but through 
 it he could see Savardi on the floor still.
 
 344 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 He gave a little laugh, and mechanically stooped 
 to offer his hand to the fallen man. 
 
 Others ran forward ; he turned away and walked 
 to a dusty mirror, set in tarnished gilt, with 
 bunches of paper flowers at the four corners, and 
 fastened his collar and tied his tie meticulously. 
 
 Then, still upright, he walked out of the room and 
 down the stairs. 
 
 It had stopped raining, and he felt vaguely thank- 
 ful for the momentary coolness. 
 
 He was in such pain that he could scarcely think 
 coherently; he knew he must reach his hotel, but 
 he did not remember which way he went. 
 
 A tram clanged past and stopped ; he reached it, 
 murmured the name of the hotel, and heard the man 
 answer, watched him wave his hand energetically, 
 and realized he was quite near it. 
 
 He managed to gain his room ; his man was there 
 putting out his dinner clothes. 
 
 Rex said to him, collapsing on the bed : 
 
 " Get a doctor, the best, and don't let don't let 
 a soul know not not his lordship d'you see go 
 now and be as quick as you can." 
 
 Martin adored him; he was back with a doctor 
 within five minutes, a little fat man, who was not 
 quite innocent of the perfume of garlic, but who, 
 the porter had informed Martin, was " as clever as 
 the devil." 
 
 He examined Rex and his sharp face grew
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 345 
 
 sharper ; in the end he took out a syringe and gave 
 Eex an injection. 
 
 " I leave to-night on the Paris express," Rex said 
 to him quietly, freed from the pain ; " if you can 
 manage it, I should be glad if you could accompany 
 me to Paris." 
 
 The doctor stared, then his heavy jowl quivered 
 with anger. 
 
 " You do not," he argued dogmatically. 
 
 Rex winced with weariness. 
 
 "Oh, yes. Can you come, or do you refuse?" 
 
 " You understand you will be in great pain each 
 inch of the way you need absolute rest, scarcely a 
 movement? " the doctor inquired with seeming 
 relish. 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " You may think you are a brave man, but I shall 
 be a braver, if I go," the doctor said glumly. 
 
 But he was poor, and he was well aware this 
 Englishman was rich; all the English appeared to 
 be four things: rich, pig-headed, conceited, and 
 without religion. 
 
 Martin and he carried Rex into the train, and the 
 doctor sat beside him in the stuffy wagon-lit. 
 
 Rex kept his steady, tired eyes fixed on the sky : 
 morphia never dulled his mind nor made him sleep. 
 
 He had sent Doro and Tony a note saying he was 
 leaving by the night express, and that had been all. 
 
 He seemed to feel nothing now but the pain, and 
 a certain gladness that he had beaten Savardi.
 
 346 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 His mind could not struggle with the reason for 
 the fight; he needed its balance to help him keep 
 physical control of himself. 
 
 In Paris he bade Espada good-bye, and sent for 
 a man he knew well a young Frenchman who had 
 been his friend at Oxford and who was mad on 
 surgery and science. He bandaged Hex and took 
 him to his own house and talked to him of his loves, 
 and work, and of much science, and more emotion. 
 
 Eex bore his kindness for a week; then, swathed 
 like a mummy, cursed for his foolishness with 
 every good French curse known to his infuriated 
 and devoted doctor, he left for London and his own 
 home. 
 
 He was fond of the town house in his way; he 
 liked its cool spaces, its view of St. James's, its 
 intimate association with all things which had 
 passed, but passed with dignity; it was too big a 
 place, of course, and very darkly furnished, but it 
 was home and his own, and he longed with almost 
 passionate ardour for a little peace in his own 
 country. 
 
 His bedroom overlooked the Green Park, now the 
 haunt of the happy loiterer, and he used to lie and 
 watch the first leaves drift down, as the hot sun 
 kissed them loose. He wondered, as everyone does 
 at some time or another, generally during unhappi- 
 ness, how many of the passers-by were glad or 
 miserable, what loveliness or tragedy had touched 
 their lives.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 347 
 
 He was not lonely at this time ; de Gries' report 
 on his injured back, Hume's grave verdict after 
 the examination, the constant pain, made him at 
 once too depressed and tired to mind much who was 
 with him or away. 
 
 But when, as it seemed miraculously, G entered 
 his room one late summer afternoon, he knew he 
 had missed her all the while. 
 
 She was in black muslin and pink roses, a frivo- 
 lous sunshade all black chiffon and roses had 
 replaced the ebony stick, real roses were pinned 
 in her corsage by very real diamonds indeed, and 
 all about her there hovered the sweet fragrance she 
 affected, which Rex had loved so as a little boy. 
 
 She stood beside his couch and smiled down at 
 him. "Well, well," said she in that caressing 
 "little" voice women use to their children when 
 they have hurt themselves. 
 
 " How did you hear I was back? " Hex asked. 
 
 " I met Sir Keith at a garden party affair, and 
 he told me everything except the bits you will tell 
 me later on ! " 
 
 Sweet, aged and funereal, came in to remove her 
 mistress's things, and incidentally to give herself 
 the tremulous joy of commiserating with Rex. 
 
 " Indeed, you do look badly, sir," she said with 
 gloomy respect; "worn to a shadow, crooil thin, 
 if I may say so. I suppose, sir, the doctor thinks 
 it'll be a long job? "
 
 348 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Years, Sweet, dear," Kex replied instantly, " if, 
 indeed, I ever regain my former briskness." 
 
 Sweet murmured scripturally about " giving and 
 taking away," then roused herself to give a spirited 
 'account of an illness, similar to Bex's it seemed, 
 .which had been suffered by a member of her own 
 family and had run a course of such serious nature 
 .that it had included every known ailment, the suf- 
 ferer, however, succumbing to none till old age had 
 taken its toll. 
 
 " Cheery outlook," Bex commented, enjoying 
 Sweet immensely. 
 
 He felt quite different already; he had never 
 realized he wanted G ; but now that she had come, 
 he knew he had, unconsciously, missed her all the 
 time. 
 
 Simply her presence, the familiar perfume she 
 used, her low yet " crisp " voice, the sense of indi- 
 viduality she gave to a room (which is so great a 
 gift and possessed by so few people) served to 
 .create an atmosphere of pleasurable contentment. 
 He forgot his back, Madrid, the longness of the 
 day. 
 
 Martin came in smiling ; flowers, which Bex had 
 been too dispirited to ask for, appeared magically, 
 tea boasted special cakes. 
 
 G, secretly intensely distressed by Bex's pallor, 
 his obvious weakness, decided instantly that she 
 would stay in town indefinitely ; she dispatched the 
 outraged Sweet to Pointers with instructions to
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 349 
 
 return " by return," accompanied by Nick, the ter- 
 rier, and such garments as she and Sweet would 
 need. 
 
 In her own old room, which she had occupied as 
 a girl, she lay down to rest for a while. 
 
 Naturally, she was consumed with anxious 
 curiosity as to the reason for Rex's illness, his 
 abrupt departure from Madrid. Age had been kind 
 to her; G often acknowledged that, insomuch that 
 it had detracted nothing from her mentality, and 
 had added to it a very temperate philosophy: but 
 philosophy very seldom takes rank with love, and 
 G's love for Rex was the dominant factor in her 
 life. 
 
 She cursed Doro's entry into the family in her 
 mind, since Rex had suffered by it. 
 
 She remembered the November' evening, years 
 before, when Doro had seemed a being of cool, yet 
 flamboyant youth, and Rex had spoken first of her 
 loveliness; she, G, should have foreseen then, but 
 she had trusted to the value of propinquity, which 
 breeds so wholesome a familiarity. 
 
 She admitted now to herself that she had entirely 
 failed to discount the influence one love may have 
 in awaking love; she had ignored the strange, yet 
 often inexorable effect the mere fact of love being 
 felt by one person may have quite unconsciously on 
 another nature, seeming to attract as if by an 
 invisible aura, exerting an involuntary spell by 
 reason of its own intensity. Now, she knew that,
 
 350 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 in all probability, had Pan and Doro never loved, 
 Rex might not have cared; Doro, until that new 
 aspect of her had been presented to him, would have 
 remained the being of close dearness and no more 
 to Rex. 
 
 But it had happened, and regret was futile. Lying 
 here in the room which had once watched her own 
 hour of storm, her thoughts moved slowly to her 
 own youth. 
 
 People said age forgot, failed to sympathize be- 
 cause it had grown out of touch ; to-day she remem- 
 bered, as if it had been yesterday, the anguish of 
 those summer months when she, like Doro, had 
 loved a man of straw. 
 
 She felt herself a ghost of herself, gazing pitifully 
 at her own anguish. 
 
 Ah, age forgot nothing; and when it still. loved, 
 it only suffered anew in the sufferings of the one 
 it loved ! 
 
 By the memory of her own grief she knew Rex's 
 pain. 
 
 She dined with him in his room, and later they 
 sat in the darkness lighted only by the reflection 
 of lamps from the park. 
 
 The trees rustled softly, sighing for relief that 
 the heat of the day was over; occasional steps 
 sounded from below ; Nick, restored to his one love 
 by the reluctant, but speedy Sweet, lay, a too warm, 
 but adoring weight in the crook of Rex's arm.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 351 
 
 " It was all damnable/' Eex said suddenly, his 
 cigarette glowing for an instant. " I made a hideous 
 mistake in going." 
 
 And he told G every detail he could remember. 
 
 " Savardi is the Carpentier type, y'know ; he con- 
 quers by force. Doro does not love him; she was 
 uncertain of life when he entered it; she had 
 achieved so much so quickly, of course all the future 
 seemed flat. And she isn't the exact type ; she has 
 been too much herself in a real role to be entirely 
 herself in an artificial one. All the while she wants 
 something and isn't quite sure what. Really, it is 
 just what everyone wants: to be understood. She 
 wants to go on, and yet have a stable background. 
 She would never acknowledge it, I suppose. Per- 
 haps, honestly, she has not realized it, but what she 
 wants is a husband like me : a man who would give 
 her her head and keep his, give her his heart and 
 keep hers. It's rare, I know, and I only sound a 
 conceited fool, but I could do it. If you specialize 
 on one woman, you do get an idea of how to treat 
 her. I've specialized on Doro through all the years 
 that matter most. No other woman has ever 
 wakened a fraction of feeling in me; I've wasted 
 nothing, not from virtue or careful hoarding, but 
 simply because I've been so i held ' by Doro that 
 I've concentrated almost unconsciously. I could 
 give her life as she wants it. Savardi will take her 
 and lose her in a year; he only wants her because 
 she did not want him. Already he is bored by the 
 exigence of her demand for freedom, by her entirely
 
 352 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 opposite conception of what an engagement should 
 be. He is of his type, G, and a fine specimen at that. 
 Big, generous, spoilt, bigoted, and selfish. And his 
 outlook is that of his kind. He hoped, in the first 
 instance, to make Doro his mistress; he asked for 
 her in marriage because he recognized that chance, 
 in the shape of father's advent, had given her the 
 best cards. When I learnt that I thrashed him 
 rather publicly." 
 
 " So that is the reason," G said guardedly ; she 
 longed to take his head and press it to her heart and 
 tell him she was proud of him, but neither of them 
 had ever been demonstrative, and it seemed late, in 
 every sense, she reflected with a wry smile, as the 
 clock struck twelve, to begin ! 
 
 " I am damn glad I did it ! " Rex went on unemo- 
 tionally. " I suppose one's made so, or one never 
 really deadens the primitive instinct, but there's 
 something intensely and passionately satisfying in 
 holding a man's body in your arms when you hate 
 him furiously, and feeling you can beat its strength. 
 When my back is devilish painful I think of the 
 moment I lifted Savardi clear, and then threw him, 
 and, by God, it helps me to feel better ! " 
 
 After a long pause, he said: 
 
 " Of course, Doro never knew about Savardi's 
 first feeling for her or, naturally about the 
 fight." 
 
 " So she'll marry him? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. Probably they are married."
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 353 
 
 He shifted on his pillows, and Mck cuddled 
 closer. 
 
 " Y'know, G it's the most extraordinary thing, 
 the way one envisages an empty life. I want Doro 
 so much that I can't get a perspective of life with- 
 out her. One would think love must meet a love 
 such as mine, to make a complete thing but it 
 doesn't. Married, she'll be the same to me. I can't 
 feel, shall not be able to, as men say they do, when 
 the woman they love marries, that it's as if she were 
 dead to them. Dead ! When she breathes and laughs 
 and moves in the world, and you might see her any 
 minute! If she were dead you'd be at peace, and 
 there is no peace for any lover whilst another man 
 lives and takes his fill. I would to God I had killed 
 Savardi, and paid for it." 
 
 When his voice ceased it was as if a brilliant 
 tongue of flame died utterly to ash; the air had 
 vibrated to passion, now it was void, exhausted 
 utterly. G knew she had nothing to say to him; 
 she had never dreamt he felt, could feel, like this; 
 she had believed his casualness signified a patient, 
 easy love; she now discovered that tranquil self- 
 possession to be an assumption; below it glowed 
 white-hot idolatry, allied, tis is so often the case, 
 to primitive instincts. 
 
 It was almost impossible to imagine him fighting 
 Savardi ; it was even more strange to recognize utter 
 truth in that headlong statement, " I wish to God 
 I had killed Savardi, and paid for it."
 
 354 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " Oh, my dear, my dear," G said wearily. 
 
 Rex gave a short laugh, meant to convey comfort, 
 to lighten the impression of his last words. 
 
 " It's all right," he said hurriedly. 
 
 They spoke of other things, but G went to her 
 room fighting an intense depression; life itself 
 seemed empty, as ashen at that moment when Rex's 
 voice had ceased and silence swathed them in its 
 numb folds.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 "My heart was winter-bound until 
 
 I heard you sing; 
 O voice of Love, hush not, but fill 
 My life with spring! 
 
 " My hopes were homeless things before 
 
 I saw your eyes; 
 
 O smile of Love, close not the door 
 To paradise! 
 
 " My dreams were bitter once, and then 
 
 I found them bliss; 
 O lips of Love, give me again 
 Your rose to kiss! 
 
 "Springtide of Love! The secret sweet 
 
 Is ours alone; 
 
 O heart of Love, at last you beat 
 Against my own!" 
 
 FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN.. 
 
 SAVARDI told nothing, and learnt with vast 
 relief that Rex had left Madrid, and with even 
 greater satisfaction that he likewise had kept 
 silence. He had not entirely believed that he would 
 speak that much honour he paid him but the 
 subtlety which he chose sometimes to make appear 
 a veneer for his real self, but which in reality lay 
 at the core of his nature, influenced by heritage and 
 cultivated by choice, had long since urged him to 
 
 355
 
 356 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 distrust the actions of any man who was his rival. 
 He hated Hex implacably for beating him, and lov- 
 ing Doro ; he respected him only because he had, as 
 he thought, discretion. 
 
 That Rex had gone because his love was greater 
 than his hatred, and his consideration for the 
 woman he adored stronger than both, he never 
 imagined; that type of affection did not enter his 
 code. 
 
 He himself went to Doro early because his head- 
 long infatuation for her allowed him to suffer any 
 anguish rather than suspense, and he found, after 
 a few minutes' speech, that she was entirely ig- 
 norant of the evening's debacle. 
 
 Doro told him Kex had left " suddenly," and he 
 made no comment whatever ; he had always believed 
 in sparing lies, and, .indeed, in never lying unless 
 the occasion was an essential one. 
 
 Now he put an arm round Doro and kissed her, 
 then gave her the gift he had brought, either as an 
 offering of devotion or an atonement. 
 
 In any case, it was a quite beautiful mantilla, and 
 had the arms of the family woven into the design. 
 After the observation that the eldest-born daughter 
 of the eldest son was christened in the veil, Savardi 
 launched into an impassioned plea for the date of 
 their marriage. 
 
 Almost coincidentally Averado entered, bran- 
 dishing a London contract just arrived, and 
 bristling with exuberant triumph.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 357 
 
 It was scarcely the moment for this announce- 
 ment, and Savardi, his bruised face flushing darkly, 
 broke into a torrent of exasperated speech. 
 
 Averado listened equably, bowed, and went out 
 
 after a long glance at Doro. 
 
 As the door closed, Savardi had her in his arms. 
 
 " Madre de Dios, does it never seem to you that 
 
 I feel anything? Do you not care what I suffer? I 
 
 wait and wait on your word, and you do not give it ; 
 
 a little actor-manager offers you a contract and you 
 
 will sign at once, and no matter when our marriage 
 
 takes place! You must not, you shall not. It is 
 
 impossible, I tell you, impossible." 
 
 He released her to gesticulate with eloquence, his 
 blue eyes narrowed in anger, his mobile mouth 
 quivering. 
 
 " I love you, I love you," he said vehemently. 
 " You are my affianced wife ; all that I have I will 
 give you to make up for this career you must re- 
 nounce. God in heaven ! what will our life be if you 
 forever sing? " 
 
 And suddenly he was at her feet, adoring, humble, 
 his ardent face almost timorous : she could not, she 
 could not love him so little that she could sacrifice 
 his love for a song? Ah, he adored her like a saint, 
 like a flame. . . . 
 "Feel feel. ... 
 
 His heart leapt against her hand under the thin 
 silk shirt.
 
 358 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 And out of a whirl of kisses, supplication, anger, 
 despair, wildest adoration, he was gone. 
 
 " I must make some decision," Doro told herself 
 wretchedly, and again she longed for Rex, his im- 
 partiality, the sense of cool support he gave some- 
 how. 
 
 She must choose one way or the other : and if she 
 chose a career, what then? 
 Just a career. 
 If she chose marriage? 
 
 Ah, well! A devotion, someone to belong to, to 
 laugh with, a sharer of life. . . . 
 
 But if Savardi had only been willing to share her 
 life a little. 
 
 " I want the impossible," she told herself with 
 bleak truth. " A man who will let me be myself, and 
 his as well ! " 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of settling up the end of 
 the season, arranging the future, disputing it, 
 Tony's old enemy, malaria, claimed him; he was 
 ordered back to England immediately. 
 
 Savardi, secretly furious, could do no less than 
 commiserate and agree that Doro must accompany 
 him. 
 
 Tony had never imagined she would not. Savardi 
 and he had one quality at least in common, a superb 
 selfishness. 
 
 Averado travelled, too, to London, enacting, as a 
 matter of course, his John the Baptist role, his 
 rendering of it shining out with special success at
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 359 
 
 railway stations and on the way to the dining car. 
 
 He said nothing of work, but his soul exulted that 
 he and Doro would be in London at the same time. 
 Covent Garden was his Mecca and Paradise, and 
 each mile nearer to it filled him with joy. 
 
 Savardi left them at Paris ; he was to fetch Doro 
 later. 
 
 As he stood on the ugly, dark, Gare du Nord plat- 
 form, bareheaded, smiling at Doro, he seemed very 
 securely young and self-confident. Their hands 
 clasped, Savardi sighed with Spanish sentiment, 
 and his blue eyes glittered for a second as his glance 
 crossed that of an extremely pretty midinette 
 tripping towards the barrier. 
 
 " I shall think every minute only of you until we 
 meet," he said to Doro; the train, already moving, 
 caught his words and crushed them in its jaws of 
 noise; Savardi turned away and began to walk 
 swiftly; Doro watched him, and as she did so she 
 seemed to lose the impression she had had of him 
 so long, and be became, mysteriously, merely a 
 good-looking young man in search of adventure. 
 
 The parting brought, as it often does, reaction; 
 now it seemed possible to feel a sense of an (para- 
 doxically) oppressive relief. At any rate, the jour- 
 ney had begun, and that meant respite from fare- 
 wells, from protestations. 
 
 For a little while now she could rest, safe from 
 adoration or adjuration.
 
 360 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 " I am impossible," she told herself with chagrin. 
 " I accept without gratitude, and yet want with- 
 out knowledge, and am all the time dissatisfied be- 
 cause I am not understood ! " 
 
 Throughout the journey that sense of harassing 
 futility held her. 
 
 For self -comfort she adopted the creed of reaction 
 and overtiredness, and found in neither any real 
 satisfaction or any antidote to her mood of lethargic 
 inappreciation. 
 
 Even being in town again gave her no quickening 
 pulse. Victoria looked as if she had never left it, 
 or rather just as she had left it years before. 
 
 The Stafford Hotel, whither Tony decreed they 
 should go for the night, was as exclusive and im- 
 posing as ever; the same heat haze hung over the 
 streets of dusk as had hung that other summer. . . . 
 
 " I'm off to bed early, m'dear," Tony announced. 
 " S'pose you'll not be late? " 
 
 " I'll sit up a little longer, I think," Doro an- 
 swered. She carried a chair to the window, and 
 lay back in it, gazing at the stars. 
 
 To-morrow Hurstpoint and Eex. . . . 
 
 What was Savardi doing now? 
 
 Had he caught up the pretty girl with the arched 
 eyebrows? 
 
 How many women became engaged because it 
 seemed the easiest thing to do, from a desire of con- 
 quest, or that fatal and cruel kindness which 
 actually springs from vanity, and, whilst declaring
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 301 
 
 its foundation to be an inability to hurt, cloaks its 
 real mainspring of existence? 
 
 She supposed Savardi and she would "settle 
 down." Life seemed singularly meaningless in some 
 ways : one took what came because it came. 
 
 She clasped her hands behind her head. 
 
 Had every atom of fire really burnt out of her 
 after Pan's death? 
 
 London brought him back so nearly, and this 
 memory made her feel very lonely, reached certain 
 depths in her which responded with an aching sad- 
 ness; Savardi's love had touched her superficially, 
 but that touch had laid open the way for this deeper 
 feeling. 
 
 Oh, once again, once again, if only for a little 
 while, to feel even a fraction of that wildly sweet 
 emotion she had felt before. 
 
 Oh, for something, for someone, to matter vividly, 
 beyond all telling. . . . 
 
 Savardi was marrying her because he could gain 
 her no other way . . . after a frustrated effort to 
 escape the tie ! 
 
 She smiled bitterly in the starry darkness. 
 
 She was so modern, so accepting of all things, 
 that she could smile. 
 
 " Oh heavens, how much one is influenced by 
 nothing at all ! " she told herself with sad amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 Blankness of life had made her encourage
 
 362 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 Savardi, and only weakness prevented her breaking 
 with him. 
 
 To-night life seemed a waste; she felt as if she 
 were looking on a fete where she might not enter. . . . 
 
 A knock came at the door. Tony's man laid the 
 late papers on the table. 
 
 She asked if Tony had gone to sleep, bade the 
 man good night, and, as the door closed, walked to 
 the table and lifted a paper and opened it. 
 
 A small head-line drew her gaze instantly ; it con- 
 tained Rex's name, and below was printed the news 
 that he was lying dangerously ill at his house in St. 
 James's Place, and added that he was suffering 
 from the severe after-effects of a duel. A description 
 of Greville House followed, and Doro read it 
 through mechanically; her mind registered a mis- 
 take : the reporter stated the Italian frescoes were 
 in the white drawing-room ; he was wrong. 
 
 The paper slid from her grasp. She stood quite 
 still in the brilliantly-lit room, and it seemed as if 
 Rex were there visibly: Rex smiling at her, Rex 
 angered, Rex become serious; little personal tricks 
 of habit which were his returned to her mind; the 
 way he smoothed his thick, smooth, fair hair; the 
 attitudes he adopted in big chairs. . . 
 
 London pulsed and throbbed outside ; somewhere 
 in the hotel a door banged. 
 
 The sharp sound released Doro from her inactive 
 self: she put a hand up to her throat to. stop the 
 fluttering of her breath.
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 363 
 
 Dangerously ill. . . . 
 
 That was only written when there was no hope. 
 It meant a person would die. . . . 
 
 She thought of Eex dead Hex, who so loved life. 
 
 And then Rex, with his sense of humour, fight- 
 ing a duel! . . . 
 
 Her mind linked the day of his departure, its 
 secrecy, his casual note of farewell ; he, who was so 
 courteous a being . . . Savardi's bruised face and 
 stiff arm. 
 
 She gave a little stifled cry, and put a clenched 
 hand to her mouth. 
 
 And in that moment she hated Savardi. Because 
 Ms conduct had hurt Rex, had brought Rex to this, 
 every atom of self-defence, of tenderness, w r hich her 
 nature held, swung out to shield Rex. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock when she reached Greville 
 House ; the door stood open, a car waited before it. 
 Doro walked straight in, and met Rex limping from 
 the library. 
 
 She put out her hands, and he caught one and 
 held it closely. 
 
 " Hullo," he said, rather hoarsely ; " what very 
 happy wind blows you here? " 
 
 Doro looked at him ; she stammered out, her voice 
 almost inaudible : 
 
 " The papers the papers said " 
 
 " That canard ! " Rex interpolated swiftly, his 
 white face flushed scarlet. " Surely you didn't be- 
 lieve it." He tried to laugh. " G showed it me at
 
 364 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 dinner: it's abominable; I've had it contradicted, 
 of course. Heaven knows how these reporters think 
 of their lies. ..." 
 
 He was talking to gain time, to recover himself; 
 his illness had left him very weak. 
 
 Doro said dully: 
 
 "Nothing matters the lies, I mean. You are 
 here, alive well " 
 
 Her bewildered eyes rested on him piteously. 
 
 " Doro," he said gently, " my dear, it's all right. 
 Of course it gave you a shock. But now why did 
 you come, you yourself, I mean so late? " 
 
 She smiled at him through sudden tears : 
 
 " I only knew the truth so late," she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 There was that in her eyes and voice a man sees 
 and hears seldom. 
 
 Rex trembled . . . this hope after despair. . . . 
 He forced himself to deny it ; he dared not believe, 
 not understand. 
 
 Steps sounded. A sure instinct that they two 
 must be alone made them enter the library and 
 close the door. 
 
 It was dark in there ; the windows were open into 
 the little private garden, a faint breeze swayed the 
 heavy curtains slightly. 
 
 Desperately, Doro said : 
 
 " Why did you fight? Was it because you you 
 knew?"
 
 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 365 
 
 " I fought because I hated Savardi," Eex said 
 with sudden hoarse ardentness; "hated him for 
 loving you; no man loves his fortunate rival. He 
 may respect him if he knows him to be the better 
 man. I knew Savardi to be a cad, and he was in my 
 way; I longed to fight him. I am glad I did." 
 
 " But I I accepted his form of love, knowing," 
 Doro murmured. " I you must know that you 
 must and oh ! I don't know, I can't explain. ..." 
 
 " You need not try," Bex said composedly. " I 
 knew long ago. I understood. One does when one 
 loves." 
 
 She went very close to him. 
 
 " I understood when I read you were ill, Rex. I 
 knew then. It was as if I had been released from 
 myself, from everything that clogged my steps. Do 
 you remember, years ago, kissing me one night in 
 Paris? And you said I should remember? I do I 
 do to-night " 
 
 He put an arm round her, so lightly it scarcely 
 touched her, and yet she knew in every fibre of her 
 being that it was there. 
 
 He said, holding her in that still tenderness : 
 
 " I do understand always " His voice grew 
 
 unsteady, very young somehow in its carefully re- 
 strained eagerness : " Doro, it's real, isn't it you, 
 you really love? " 
 
 Still he did not kiss her; he seemed to wait and 
 his waiting brought to her, in some inexplicable
 
 366 ALMOND-BLOSSOM 
 
 way, the knowledge that he waited because the 
 moment was so marvellous. 
 
 Then he gave a quick boyish sigh, and whispered 
 her name. 
 
 She put out a hand and drew down his head 
 towards her. 
 
 " Oh, yes yes," she whispered, her lips against 
 his ; " it is real it is true it is as if, my darling, 
 my heart were at rest in yours at last." 
 
 THE END