'Yes; that's the worst of all,' he answered, with emphasis.

'Oh.'

Aylmer spoke decidedly: 'I'm not a man who could ever be a tame cat.

And also I'm not, I hope, a man who--who would dare to think, or even wish, to spoil--to--'

'And is that really why you're going?' she asked gently.

'You're forcing me to answer you.'

'And shall you soon forget all about it?'

He changed his position and sat next to her on the sofa.

'And so you won't miss me a bit,' he said caressingly. 'You wouldn't care if you never saw me again, would you?'

'Yes, I should care. Why, you know we're awfully good friends; I like you immensely.'

'As much as Vincy?'

'Oh! So differently.'

'I'm glad of that, at any rate!'

There was an embarra.s.sed pause.

'So this is really the last time I'm to see you for ages, Mrs Ottley?'

'But aren't we all going to the theatre tomorrow? With you, I mean?

Bruce said so.'

'Oh yes. I mean the last time alone. Yes, I've got a box for _The Moonshine Girl_. Bruce said you'd come. Lady Everard and Vincy will be there.'

'That will be fun--I love that sort of show. It takes one right away from life instead of struggling to imitate it badly like most plays.'

'It's always delightful to hear what you say. And anything I see with you I enjoy, and believe to be better than it is,' said Aylmer. 'You know you cast a glamour over anything. But the next day I'm going away for three months at least.'

'A long time.'

'Is it? Will it seem long to you?'

'Why, of course. We shall--I shall miss you very much. I told you so.'

'Really?' he insisted.

'Really,' she smiled.

They looked at each other.

Edith felt less mistress of the situation than she had expected. She was faced with a choice; she felt it; she knew it. She didn't want him to go. Still, perhaps.... There was a vibration in the air. Suddenly a sharp ring was heard.

Overpowered by a sudden impulse, Aylmer seized her impetuously by the shoulders, kissed her roughly and at random before she could stop him, and said incoherently: 'Edith! Good-bye. I love you, Edith,' and then stood up by the mantelpiece.

'Mr Vincy,' announced the servant.

CHAPTER XII

'The Moonshine Girl'

The next evening Bruce and Edith were going to the Society Theatre with Aylmer. It was their last meeting before he was to go away, Edith half expected that he would put it off, but there was no change made in the plans, and they met in the box as arranged.

Aylmer had expected during the whole day to hear that she had managed to postpone the party. At one moment he was frightened and rather horrified when he thought of what he had done. At another he was delighted and enchanted about it, and told himself that it was absolutely justified. After all, he couldn't do more than go away if he found he was too fond of her. No hero of romance could be expected to do more than that, and he wasn't a hero of romance; he didn't pretend to be. But he _was_ a good fellow--and though Bruce's absurdities irritated him a great deal he had a feeling of delicacy towards him, and a scrupulousness that is not to be found every day. At other moments Aylmer swore to himself, cursing his impulsiveness, fearing she now would really not ever think of him as he wished, but as a hustling sort of brute. But no--he didn't care. He had come at last to close quarters with her. He had kissed the pretty little mouth that he had so often watched with longing. He admitted to himself that he had really wished to pose a little in her eyes: to be the n.o.ble hero in the third act who goes away from temptation. But who does not wish for the _beau role_ before one's idol?

This meeting at the play tonight was the sort of anti-climax that is almost invariable in a London romance. How he looked forward to it! For after Vincy came in only a few ba.n.a.lities had been said. He was to see her now for the last time--the first time since he had given himself away to her. Probably it was only her usual kindness to others that prevented her getting out of the evening plans, he thought. Or--did she want to see him once more?

At dinner before the play Edith was very bright, and particularly pretty. Bruce, too, was in good spirits.

'It's rather sickening,' he remarked, 'Aylmer going away like this; we shall miss him horribly, sha'n't we? And then, where's the sense, Edith, in a chap leaving London where he's been the whole of the awful winter, just as it begins to be pleasant here? Pa.s.s the salt; don't spill it--that's unlucky. Not that I believe in any superst.i.tious rot.

I can see the charm of the quaint old ideas about black cats and so forth, but I don't for one moment attach any importance to them, nor to the number thirteen, nor any of that sort of bosh. Indeed as a matter of fact, I walked round a ladder only today rather than go under it.

But that's simply because I don't go in for trying to be especially original.'

'No, dear. I think you're quite right.'

'And oddly enough--as I was trying to tell you just now, only you didn't seem to be listening--a black cat ran across my path only this afternoon.' He smiled, gratified at the recollection.

'How do you mean, your path? I didn't know you had one--or that there were any paths about here.'

'How literal women are! I mean _I_ nearly ran over it in a taxi. When I say I nearly ran over it, I mean that a black cat on the same side of the taxi (if you must have details) ran away as the taxi drove on....

Yes, Aylmer is a thoroughly good chap, and he and I have enormous sympathy. I don't know any man in the world with whom I have more intellectual sympathy than Aylmer Ross. Do you remember how I pointed him out to you at once at the Mitch.e.l.ls'? And sometimes when I think how you used to sneer at the Mitch.e.l.ls--oh, you did, you know, dear, before you knew them--and I remember all the trouble I had to get you to go there, I wonder--I simply wonder! Don't you see, through going there, as I advised, we've made one of the nicest friends we ever had.'

'Really, Bruce, you didn't have _any_ trouble to get me to go to the Mitch.e.l.ls; you're forgetting. The trouble was I couldn't go there very well until I was asked. The very first time we were asked (if you recollect), we flew!'

'Flew? Why, we went on the wrong night. That doesn't look as if I was very keen about it! However, I'm not blaming you, dear. It wasn't your fault. Mind you,' continued Bruce, 'I consider the Society Theatre pure frivolity. But one thing I'll say, a bad show there is better than a good show anywhere else. There's always jolly music, pretty dresses, pretty girls--you don't mind my saying so, dear, do you?'

'No, indeed. I think so myself.'

'Of course, the first row of the chorus is not what it was when I was a bachelor,' continued Bruce, frowning thoughtfully. 'Either they're not so good-looking, or I don't admire them so much, or they don't admire _me_ as much, or they're a different cla.s.s, or--or--something!' he laughed.

'You're pleased to be facetious,' remarked Edith.

'My dear girl, you know perfectly well I think there's no-one else in the world like you. Wherever I go I always say there's no-one to touch my wife. No-one!'

Edith got up. 'Very sweet of you.'